Neighborly love ; and Margaret Lawrence
page: 0Illustration[View Page 0Illustration]()pjlV 1 i ) Margaret Lawrence.-Front. 177I I f\ I I I I - I 1 1) page: 0 (TitlePage) [View Page 0 (TitlePage) ] NEIGHBORLY LOVE, d "fir I M k _t" MARGARET LAWRENCE. 5Ablished by !. .2othZrop Coper,.N. H.: G. T. day & 1t & co. Co. AND t ; 4r ,: tF F t F page: -3 (Table of Contents) [View Page -3 (Table of Contents) ] CONTENTS. PAGa CHAPTER I. HEADS ON FIRE . . . . 5 CHAPTER II. AILIE . . . . . . . 14 CHAPTER III. UNCLE BERTIE . . 25 CHAPTER IV. PAIN AND PLEASURE . . 33 CHAPTER V. "TRIALS" . . . . . . 43 CHAPTER VI. THE PRIZES . .\ . . . . 52 CHAPTER VII. SNOWDROP . . . . . . 65 CHAPTER VIII. RESTITUTION . . . . . 74 (3) hi page: 4 (Table of Contents) -5[View Page 4 (Table of Contents) -5] CONTENTS. CHAPTER IX. A GREATER PRIZE. . CHAPTER X. A GREATER RESTITUTION CONCLUSION 87 N EIGHBOfRLY LOVE. 95 108 CHAPTER I. HEADS ON FIRE. MARGARET LAWRENCE .o . 111-184 THERE were two little girls sitting at work one evening with their mother. They all three looked busy and cheerful. The room was poor, but very neat. A bright fire, and a tea-table all ready spread, looked very comfortable. Tryphie," said the mother, "I think I hear the boys coming in." Up started both little girls. " Tryphie, dear, don't be in a hurry. Open the door quietly, and tell them to make haste and wash their hands, for tea is waiting." " Yes, mother," replied both little girls. The door was opened, the boys came in hot and breathless, went to wash their hands, and then every one sat down to tea. (5) * I page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] 6 NEIGHBORLY.LO]v.HN There was but just room for the five chairs round the table, and if all were not careful, a little elbowing might take place. "Nesie," said Andy, '" do sit still!" " Andy,"- said Nesie, "leave me alone !" "Hush!" said their mother, " I do not like to hear you speak so to each other. If Nesie pressed you, my boy, come nearer to me." And she made way for him as she spoke, giving his arm such a loving little squeeze as might drive away any ill-humor. "No, no, mother dear, I do very well. Don't let me crowd you, of all peope." ~- " How did you get on at school, to-day ? " "Well, mother, I got all good marks, and was sent up" " What does being ' sent up' mean? " asked one of his sisters. "Sent up to the head-master, and have it marked in a book that I had done a lesson very well for my age, Tryphie." "And what was that lesson?" asked the other. " Writing out, by heart, yesterday's reading in History, Tryphie dear," " How inconvenient it is," said Nesie, "that they are both Tryphies ! " "I suppose you are used to it," laughed the two together. "You cannot call us Phena and Phosa." "-You always call one of us ' Tryphie dear,' Andy, and that makes a difference," said one little girl, thoughtfully. " Do I?" said he. " I did not know it." They were twins, these Tryphies ; and their father, who was very fond of Scripture names, having induced his wife to consent to her eldest son being Andrew, and the second Onesimus, thought himself fortunate indeed to have twin daughters, " Tryphena and Tryphosa would suit so well." He did not live to see them six years old, but he had so insisted upon their both being always called " Tryphie," that no oine thought of trying "Phenie " or " Phosie "- as an improvement. They were very much alike, excepting that whereas Tryphena was slight and pale, seldom ailingbut always looking delicate, Tryphosa was nmch stouter and more robust-looking, though HEADS ON FIRE. 7 page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 8 NEIGHBORLY JOVE.HD much more liable to illness, and a greater anxiety to her mother. The boys were slight, but strong and active, lively, and full of fun; Nesie especially some- times letting fun run on to mischief. Tea was over ; the little girls "cleared away," " washed up," and "put away" very quickly and quietly, took their books, and sat down to learn their lessons, while the boys went to fetch theirs. Tryphosa's nose was almost in her books, and. her hair very near the candle, when her brothers entered. Nesie, seeing this, pushed. Andrew (who was passing next to her) against her chair. The shock made her bob her head into the flame. Fizz! went the hair, with a violence that startled every one, and Tryphosa screamed.. Tryphena put it out with her hands. Her mother, having ascertained that the child was only frightened, soothed and consoled her, and, repiro'ved Nesie for his cruel frolic. "I did not mean to set her on fire," cried he. "6But you meant to give her a very unpleasant start and surprise. You might have burnt her face and clothes. Shall I tell you what it re- minds me of ? " "Oh, yes, mother!" cried Tryphosa, looking up. "Did it happen when you were very young, mother ? " said Tryphena, whose hands were smarting a great deal, though she said nothing. "And do you remember all about it ? " asked Nesie. "I remember all I was told about it, Nesie ; but I was not able to see it all myself, for I was not there. I was about your age, - ten years old." "Where were you, mother? " asked Tryphosa, who was lying back in her mother's arms, pleased to be made much of, and very comfortable. "I was ill of some kind of fever. My father's business was in London, but th9 children had been sent away out of town to escape the fever. We had all just had the measles." "All of you, mother?" asked Nesie. - All who were born then," replied she, " eight of us.. It was just at the time of an election, you have heard of that, -and my father had been HIMA page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. obliged to go with a very clever gentleman to one of those elections far down in the country. There were no railroads then all over England; the first had not been opened much more than a year, and the journey took him a great many days away from us. One ofI2 my sisters, Mary, the clever one, was ill of the measles, and when my father was gone, my mother, looking round us' children, said, ' I believe they are going to amuse me while their father is away by all having the measles.' I saw she did not look very much amused, but I little guessed what a trial she was to go through, poor dear! . You :know what the measles are, I think ?" " Oh, yes, mother," cried Nesie,- "' Hot and red, And fuggy in bed-. Nothing to eat, And no one to greet!" " I did not know much about it, then, not even so much as that, Nesie, but]I soon did, for my mother wa ight. The next day my brothers and I were put to bed, two of the little ones next day, and the two ot ers a little later. My second brother, Bertie, was very, very ill, - the only one who was really in danger. My poor mother, she was alone, but God helped her, and she had her Bertie safe when his father came home, and all the rest doing well. "6I was not very ill, but did not seem able to get well; and the reason soon appeared, for I had another fever coming on, and then it was that my two brothers and Mary were sent away for fear of their having it also." " And not the little ones? " asked Tryphena. "They were not well enough ; two of them had but only just had the measles, and one was still in bed. They were put into rooms down stairs, and did catch it. But ab, this is not the story. " Mary's pretty hair had all been cut off, and she wore a cap. One evening, when she and her brothers were playing together, Bertie took off her cap and put it on his own head, going to look at himself in the glass, the others holding the candles. " Whether they pushed him, or he them, or whether he moved his head, or they the candles, His ON cE. Ii. page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. { i f, r _'; x' '7. ' {4 _' }r j t ( L Y$ .i HEADS ON FIRE. 13 was not exactly known, but in a moment Bertie's head was in a blaze, and the cap would not come off ! The more he pulled at the strings, the tighter they were tied, and the others and he tried to put out the flames with their hands, but not succeeding, the two elder children took the water- jug, and emptied it over him. " Their presence of mind put out the fire, but poor Bertie's frolic had ruined the cap, and given him a serious cold and cough that kept him at home almost as long as the measles had done, and made him delicate for a long time." " And didUMary catch cold without her cap?" asked Tryphosa. "I believe she did," replied her mother, smil- ing ; "but as she was much stronger than Bertie, and had not just had so severe an illness, we did not think so much about it, nor, I am sure, did she. she was always full of thought for others, and Bertie was a great pet of hers, and indeed of every one's." " Was it wrong of them to put Bertie out with the water-jug?". " Think again, Nesie. How could it be wrong ? It was not very good for him, but better than being burnt, and showed some presence of mind in such little things, for they were only eight and nine years old, and Bertie was but seven. " But now, my darlings, the lessons must be learned ; Tryphie is quite consoled ; Nesie has, I am sure, resolved never again to play ill-natured or thoughtless tricks on purpose to frighten little sisters or any one else ; and we are all ready to finish our evening better than we began it." The lessons were learned. Tryphena, having finished first, went away to prepare the beds for her mother, Tryphie, and herself in the next room. When all had finished, the boys' beds were made in the sitting-room, their mother read evening prayers, and they all went to bed. When her mother kissed Tryphena's check that night, she said, in a whisper,- " Well done, my darling! To suffer in silence for those we love, is one way of not letting our left hand know what the right hand doeth. Is the pain gone now?" Tryphena's heart was so full she could hardly answer ; and the words, "Yes, thank you, dear mother," were stifled in the kisses she gave her. f . , 1 page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] s f i . f o ! ,31 , .111 CHAPTER I.. AILIE. WnmE the children slept their mother lay awake ; the story she had told them had carried back her thoughts to that far time when she was a child at home; in a home very different to the. one where she was bringing up her own children. She did not tell them so, it might have made them discontented, and for herself she haa, long learned to be content, and to know that outward things are all comparative ; that is, that poor as her two rooms might seem, compared to those of which she was thinking as she told hpr story, they were yet beautiful compared to many others near them; and though she might find it difficult to teach, and feed, and clothe her children upon her scanty means, she was rich compared to some of her neighbors, whose living was to be gained, of. (14) i f y i f .9 course, day by day, by hard labor. hIer children she knew must labor ; she was bringing them up to do so, and Andrew had obtained a place as little clerk to.a law printing-office in the neigh- borhood, and was to begin the next day, going there regularly, and attending evening instead of day school; but for a few weeks he was still to sleep at his mother's house. Nesie wanted to help in a stable, but his mother did not quite like it for him. She said, however good the coach- man he was under might be, a London mews was a great place for idle men and boys, whose ways and words were not exactly what she wished her bright-faced little Nesie to learn. He said then that he would go to sea as a cabin-boy, and study and travel; that he would get leave to stand an examination as naval cadet, and be an officer in time. His mother smiled at this bright hope, but would not thwart nor discourage him further. So Nesie thought hid way of life was settled also, and he often talked it over with Martin and Tony, their nearest and pleasantest neighbors. Martin and Tony were, one nine, the other 15 AILI. page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 14 rt' 4 41 17 eight years old, and their sisters, Alice and Mag- gie, a little older; so that the four children of one family, ranged with the four children of the other family, Tony being a little younger than the twins, and Andrew and Ailie just the same age. They were often together, and went to the same schools. Their mothers sometimes met to have a little quiet talk, and if there was any little pleasure Tony's father could give his boys, he generally asked one or two of the widow's chil- dren to join them. He was a kiid-hearted man, and respected Mrs. Aylmer's quiet endurance of great sorrows and great losses, and he liked her way of bringing up her noble boys and gentle little girls. Her own boys were to be appren- ticed, one to a grocer, the other to a mercer, old friends of his; and his girls were also promised, one to a miliner, and the other to a lace-shop, as soon as they should be old enough to work. And the Tryphies ? They did not know- no one knew yet more than this "--- that they were to learn obedience at home" by their mother's side, and grow up like her, gentle, loving, stead- fast women, serving God and man for her. sake. AILI. About this time Mrs. Aylmer expected Nesie and the Tryphies home to dinner. (Andy was not to come home that day; he was at the print- ing office before eight, and was not to return till seven.) She thought she heard some one crying in the street, and some one laughing, - two sounds that never seem to suit each other very well, -- so she looked out, and saw, to her sur- prise, Allie Mervyn screaming with passion, Iry- phosa crying, and Tryphena trying to comfort them both ; while Maggie and the boys laughed loudly, and Nesie was pommelling Martin with all his might, but not much success. Mrs. Ayl- mer went to her door, drew in her own little girls and Allie, and called to Nesie : - " Nesie, come here." He knew he could not disobey that quiet voice, and came directly. Martin and 'Tony went shouting away, and Maggie with them. Mrs. Aylmer drew into her arms Ailie, still quivering with her sobs, and Tryphosa, whose tears still flowed. "Now, you two little girls," said she, "tell 2 9 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. I 16 page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] NEIGHBORLY LOVE. 19 "4t _; J Y .. 3 { 3 F i f L yx t g p'! ' n S y k i FFf 3 f r d qA } . gYYY E 2 ' { ti Y U 5 Y a " Vf t r §y A t x n 3 y ' Y 7 t s iiv S_ [ s r: e 4 F ([F' fy4 fx F' me your trouble, unless Ailie had rather not;- in that case I will take her home." Ailie could not speak, but she clung closer to her friend. Tryphosa could not tell her gtory for crying. "Ask Tryphie," said she, between her sobs. Tryphie being desired to tell the tale, did so. "It appeared that it was history-lesson day at the school, and that Ailie had made one or two mistakes which were set right by younger girls, and was rebuked by the teacher, and told she should go into a little class if she did not pay more attention. Ailie cried, and had a bad mark for temper, and was sent to sit in the cloak-room till school was over. When they had all come out, Ailie was looking blue-cold and miserable. and the other girls pitied her and were kind; but Maggie jeered and said : "'She should learn her lessons better, then. We all had the same lesson.' "'Byou had not all such a headache as I had. when I tried to learn it,' said Ailie, crying again. " Just then, the boys had come up, and had AILIE. asked what was the matter, and had heard her last words. Then they mocked at her, and said she had a headache whenever she was cross, and said she was ill three-days out of the seven, and that she was growing crosser and more careless every day; and that no one ever called her if they wanted anything kind done for them. And this had made Ailie cry so bitterly, that Tryphosa had spoken up for her, and said it was very hard to learn lessons or work about with a bad head- ache, and that she was very sorry for her; and so I said too," added Tryphena. " But Maggie and Tony laughed louder than ever, and Martin turned upon poor Tryphie, and said 'every one , ,, knew - Here one Tryphie stopped short, and, colored, and the other sobbed aloud,- " Knew what? Tryphie, speak out." But Tryphie could not ; and Nesie broke in eagerly - " He said, every one knew how her mother spoiled and petted HER, and that was why I flow at him, mother ; he said you were wrong, and I could not stand that, you know!" said the boy looking ready to fight again. f_ { f 18 page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. i 47f 47} TA F ALLIES 21 "But, my boy," said his mother, kissing his glowing face, "though I thank you for not liking to hear anything untrue said of me, I cannot have you fight all those who think dif ferently. How do your tempers prove that I do not spoil my .children ? I fear they would rather prove the contrary, Nesie. Truth never needs defence of evil passions,, dear children; and if every one had remembered that, there would not have been so much blood shed in religious wars, as they are called. 1 do not like that expression, nor the one of pious frauds. 'Truth needs nor force nor fraud.' You must beg Martin's pardon for your violence, and Tryphie for her pettish- ness." "We can't say he was right, mother." "But you can prove him wrong , if you do not* behave like spoiled children ; and you know his opinion is of no consequence. Your fault is all we have to judge, is it not?" Yes, mother. Must we go now ? " "The sooner the better, and come back to dinner. Ask if I may keep Ailie till the even.. ing." Ailie nestled closer to her friend. Her sobs were fewer and fainter now, but her eyes were heavy, and her head throbbed, so that she could .hardly lift it to thank her kind friend. Mrs. Aylmer bent down and kissed her fore- head. " Poor child ! " said she, "how it burns, does it not? How much suffering for one moment's arger! Poor little Ailie! it is a sad thing to be passionate: I know, for I was so once." " Passionate -like me - you were ? " " Listen to the character I will draw for you of myself, and you shall see if it is like any one you know. Lie still. Tell me if my talking makes your head worse." Ailie lay still, and the calm, gentle voice, far from disturbing, stilled and soothed her. "I was the eldest of the family, but had less strength of body -perhaps of mind also, but certainly of body - than my, next sister and brothers. We always were together, at lessons and play, and in both I was often 'lag-last,' partly from laziness, and partly because, without being seriously ill, I was often too unwell to get i l page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] I 11,4 r , i H 4! {i ;g E { .1 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. up for a few days, and thus lost time. Often, too, when not obliged to stay in bed, and not liking to say I was ill, theywalks or the games tired me so soon that I disliked them, and often then felt as if I could not learn my lessons when the time came. I was often peevish while feeling all this, and yet trying to do like the rest ; seeing every one more clever and active and gay, - finding that if any service' were needed, I was never the one called; however, I was known to be weak, awkward, and easily vexed." Ailie answered, "How like me ! " "My dear mother," continued Mrs. Ayimer, "took great pains with me, had me much with her, and tried to discover why I was so unlike the others, so irritable, lazy, and selfish. Some people said it was because I was more delicate and more spoiled; but one of my little sisters was much more delicate, and never became irritable nor lazy. Now I understand that it was because my life was a striving after impossi- bilities. Had I told what I felt, my strength would have been sufficient for all I should have had to do; and I should not have been irritated AILIE. 23 by failures I could not avoid. But God taught me a lesson, Ailie." Ailie looked up. " He gave me first a long fit of weakness in my eyes,.so that I could learn nothing, nor go out for many weeks ; then the measles and two fevers, all close together ; and, after that, a long, long time of weakness and doctors and baths, and different attempts to cure me of all they had left behind; so that my idleness was cured by not being able to do anything, my pride and passion by the feeling of my own weakness and nothingness, but most of all by the feeling that God was very near me, had given me pain to bear for His sake, had ever loved me, and was thus saying to me, 'My child, give me thy heart.' Ailie, Ailie, dear, He says so to you also. All the headaches, and fevers, and weariness, all the little mortifications of vanity, all the great dis- appointments in serving those we iove, are sent to teach us not to set our hearts on anything or any one but God. Bear them for His sake, work for His sake when you can ; but when you can- not, do not be vexed or discouraged - still less, 22 III n 9 :k f page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] In a; ,f it NEIGHBORLY LOVE. be envious of, and angry with, those who suc- ceed better. I know it is a trial to see younger ones doing so much better than we do ; but it must not make us envious nor so desponding as to give up trying our best : God knows all. I have suffered much, Ailie, from always wanting to be quiet or alone in whatever I was doing; it is a great fault not to know how to be equal or inferior. Ailie, will you come to me some- times, and tell me of your troubles, now you know they are like mine?'_' Ailie raised herself up, threw her arms around her kind friend's neck, and kissed her gratefully. "It seems like my own story," said. she. "t Oh!can I ever become gentle, active, and helpful'- no trouble to any one, but a comfort -- as you are?" Mrs. Aylmer's eyes shone through her tears. " You can do much more than I, dear Ailie; remember that verse, ' I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.' Give Him your heart, fear not."4 CHAPTER III. UNCLE BERTIE. TRYPHENA had guessed that her mother wished to speak to Ailie alone, and that Tryphosa would ask her to accompany her, and she had therefore left the room with her and Nesie; but as Try- phosa did not say, "Come with me, Tryphie," she remained in the bedroom on her knees, pray- ing for Ailie, for whom she, was very sorry. When phe heard the others return she went doh to them, and heard that Martin had laughed and said it did not matter, Nesie could not trust him; and his mother had said Ailie might stay if she behaved well. So Ailie dined and spent. the day with the Tryphies, who, for her sake, gave up their afternoon school. She got better, and was very happy during the day; and by the time her father called for (25) l 24. fi iI is - s a t Ii ' page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 NEIGHBORLY LOV'n, her, was nearly as well as usual. Mrs. Aylmer begged her to tellMaggie she should be glad to see her also ; but she pressed Ai:e t often,.oreturn When Allie was gone, the children natural talked of the day's events, and express at y surprise at Maggie's treatment of pher sisere "eIt is difficult" sai er, si leay to consider yourself as Wiser or better ,tan ays One else, without showing it very thnPeasantly sometimes; adIfn g vr nlaaty ofmeie and I fancy Maggie gets a good deal praise, and Ailie a good deal of blame; each, perhaps, a little more than is good orusefula, "Mother," said Tryphena d o ld you had comforted her by saying you had been passionate also ; could that be te?" "Yes, dear, very true. The illness I told you of last night subdued me very Much; but such was my nature, and God veynt me just the lesson I needed, as he does to each' of uss" " What lesson did he send to An'ary ? " She was always a better childun r ?gentle, obedient, and unselfish than I was; and though of course she had faults, none that required such' ault, noe t a severe lessons. She grew up a blessing and com- fort to all around her, and is so still, thank God Tryphosa, you are like her in face.; will you try to be like her in her sweet temper and active, unselfish ways? " "Yes, mother," replied the little girl, " and like you, too," Nesie came in and they had tea, and had learned their lessons before Andy returned. His mother had prepared a little supper for him, and they were all anoxiois to know how he liked his work and his master He was tired but very much pleased to be, as he .said, "beginning life." His mother said she hoped it really would be beginning life - the life of an active "soldier- servant " unto the end. Andy smiled, and told her he hoped so too. Nesie was going to tell him of the morning's affair, but Tryphena, guessing his intention, stopped him and whispered, "Ailie and Tryphie had rather not, I am sure." And the good- natured little fellow desisted. " Mother," (said he, "do tell us more about 27 UNCLE BEItTIE® page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 NEIGHBORLY LOVE- UNCLE BERTIE. 29 your little days, and Uncle Bertie; you said he was a great pet with every one. Was he spoiled?" " Oh, no. Kindness never spoils noble na- tures, Nesie. " If my 'little days,' as you call them amuse you, I will think of something more to tell you when Andy is ready." "Oh do not wait for one, mother; let me go into the other room, and you can begin as soon as you like," said Andy. "I shall learn' more quickly if I think I am not keeping you all waiting." ".Go, my son," said Mrs. Aylmer. "But," added she, as she closed the door, -" bu.t " We will wait for him," said the little girls, guessing her thought. Nesie, disappointed, but ashamed to be the only selfish one, held his peace. "Did you see Martin and Tony this afternoon, Nesie ? " asked his mother. "Yes, mother; they said their mother was vexed at Ailie's being so often ill, and that her father thinks she is only lazy." " Poor Aiie! I do not think .she is lazy. I fear she is often ill, and that she does not treat it so as to get wiser or happier by it." " Wiser or happier, mother ? Is that what 'I illness makes people?" asked Tryphosa. " It is what it ought to make them, dear, if it is taken by them and by their friends as a mes- sage from God. But then it must be fairly met by every one as a truth to be neither hidden nor grumbled at, nor disbelieved in, nor made too much of, but just confessed, accepted, attended to, and endured cheerfully, for God's sake." Tryphosa came round softly and kissed her mother's cheek. She was often ill herself, de- spite her stout, ruddy appearance, and she knew why her mother always desired her to tell ex- actly what she felt, once, and then to make no fuss, but take quietly whatever was ordered for her, were it lessons, physic, rest, work, or play. She allowed no peevish complaints of una- voidable discomforts, but she was vexed if her children concealed the truth about their health, as about anything else. Ailie's parents were extremely tender, and listened to her fretful complaints of heat and cold, page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] UNCLE BERTIE. 81 and thirst and pain most devotedly when she was so ill as to be evidently suffering; but they thought it either wiser or more natural to treat her, directly she was able to run about again, as equal to the life of Maggie and her brothers. They had made her and Maggie begin going to school the same day; and Ailie was so 'often prevented attending, that though a year older than Maggie, and quite as quiet, if not quieter, she soon fell far below her sister's place in school; and this mor- tification helped to discourage her. Had she been sent a year earlier, she would have gained start sufficient to have maintained her place with a little effort. As it wash she grew more and more indolent, depressed, and irritable.~ Andy now came in, and said that he knew his lesson; would his mother tell them about Uncle Bertie? "When your Uncle Bertie was a very little boy," said she, "some one heard him use the word ' honor,' and asked if he knew what honor was. "'6Yep, yes,' said he, eagerly, 'I know. what honor is,-- I know what honor is. Honor is not to tuck the cunies.' He could not say 'currants,' so you may see how little he was by that. " Another day, we children were all playing before the fire in a very small room, and our mother said it was dangerous, and that the first who ran so close to the fire should go out of the room. "A little while afterwards we missed Bertie. Where could he be ? We hunted through that room nd the next, and then I opened the door on the staircase. There he was ! standing out- side the door. We asked - him what he was doing there, and he answered, "'Mother said the first who ran close to the fire should go out of the room. I ran close to the fire, so I came out of the room.' " My mother was very much pleased, called him in again, kissed him, and said he was an example of obedience to us all. And so he was. He was a very good child, and a neat, clean little fellow in every way. How he loved his Bible Stories, and to ' talk about God,' as he called it! "When he was four years old, I used to hear him say his prayers every evening; and if I was 80 NEIGHBORLY LO E« page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. naughty myself, my mother used to say that I should not go to teach Bertie, for he was more fit to teach me. She was right. I was too fond of leading and guiding others; and Bertie gained more prizes for good conduct than I ever did. Still, as I was older, of course I could teach him more things, and he used to call himself my son. When he was asked his name, he would say, 'I'm son!' which puzzled two good ladies, I remember, till it was explained to them." "Did he die very 'young, mother ?" asked Andy, gently. "'He went to sea, my boy,' said she, sadly, caressing Nesie's head, "and I never saw my Bertie again." "Was he pretty?" asked Tryphosa. ":ie was pale and fair, with very dark blue eyes and a face like a statue when he was still, lit up ith fun and feeling when he spoke. Yes, I thoughthim very prtty and so clever! Ho used to say thi igs quite gravely that made every one else laugh ; and he never said the same thing twice. He was a pretty, witty boy, and, more than that, he -was a good and pious child." CHAPTER IV. PAIN AND PLEASURE. A FEW days after this, the children were at school in the morning, and Mrs. Aylmer was sitting alone when she heard a tap at the door ; it was Ailie's mother. "I thought, Mrs. Ayl- ner," said she, " that you would excuse the liberty, -I wanted so much to ask you about my Ailie ; she's always complaining, she does not get on like her sister, and she's unhappy, and cross, and makes every one else wish she would be -wel-like other people." '-No doubt so would she herself wish," said Mrs. Aylmer, smiling. "How is she, to-day?" "She's been better,. and more cheerful,,ever sine the day she spent with you. But'she is not prosperous like other children ; and her father thinks it's half laziness and shamming, but I can't think that." 3 (33) page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] PAIN AND PLEASURE. 35 " Nor do I," said Mrs. Aylmer. "From her face I am sure she suffers, though she may hardly know from what cause. What does she complain of?" "All sorts of things; but most of being so cold and so tired, - always &so tired,' she says." "Have you shown her to a good doctor yet ? I am going to see a very good one,-an old friend of mine, - to-morrow ; let her come with me, and he will tell us whether there is any reason for her being so chilly and so tired. As to her temper, you know, Mrs. Mervyn, if she is trying to do, with some ailment upon her, all that the others do with their health and strength, it is as if she ran a race with lead in her pockets; she must fail." "Yes, certainly," said Mrs. Mervyn. " Well, suppose you and I were to lose a race, or a walking wager, because we had lead in our pockets that we could not get rid of, and did not like to own it, don't you think we should find it hard to fiave been forced to run, and then be jeered at for failing?" "It would be better not to start, or to start saying we were weighted." " That is just what I tell my own children ; while they are little they must tell me of their lead, that I may know how they start in the race. When they are older they need confess all burdens to God alone. Try, dear Mrs. Merwyn, and get Ailie to tell you quietly what she feels, and then never to refer to it again ; this will prevent her getting into the habit of complaining and grum- bling. Many people think they bear illness well, because they say nothing about what really is trying them, but murmur at everything else. The heat, cold, weather, place, people, circum- stances, all are wrong." " Surely, it were better to say, 'I am not well,' and complain of nothing and nobody be- side. We are always afraid of children's liking to be ill, and made much of. But we always treat them as if they were strong and well, unless they are really laid up. Do you do so, Mrs. Aylmer?" " No, indeed, I do not. I do not find them wish to avoid any of their little duties, and I always have taken care, that if they have little extra indulgences on account of their being a 34 - IOT:EIGIIBOR LY LOVE. page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 36 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. 37 little ailing, they have something to give up also. They are never anxious to be on the sick- list an hour longer than necessary. Tryphena and Amelia are almost too impatient of the necessary restrictions on their liberty. Here are the children. Shall I calL for Ailie?" "4Yes; I shall thank you very much." So the next day, while the children were at school, Mrs. Aylmer called for Ailie. The child had been rather alarmed when her mother had told her she was going to be shown to a doctor; but Mrs. Aylmer's smiling face reassured her. They had a long time to wait and Ailie was get- ting quite frightened again, so Mrs. Aylmer began telling her stories, and so passed the time, until a neat maid-servant opened the door, and said, - "Now, madam, this way, if you please." The doctor was very kind: he asked .Mrs. Aylmer some questions,"and Ailie some, looked at her chest and arms and back and head.; asked if she ever had a pain in her back or shoulders, would she show him where it was; took her into the next room where there was a sofa, to show hov she liked to lie when the pain was bad, and told her to lie still and rest, for that he could sec it was already there (to which she assented), while he looked at Mrs. Aylmer. He went back with Mrs. Aylmer, and wrote down some direc- tions for Ailie; but he said that the greatest care would be needed, for that she had a weakness in the spine and chest that was c9tning to a dan- gerous point, and might make her for life, a sick- ly, deformed woman, even if she lived to grow up. She must lie down whenever her head ached, and always after walking, writing, or any fatigue. She must sit as little as possible, and if she sat badly never to be scolded for it, but sent to lie down directly. Mrs. Aylmer gently told Ailie's parents this, on her return, and said that she had asked if there was no danger of making the child think too much about her health, and he had replied, that for such health as that, care and attention must be paid at any risk, and that the mind was usually in such cases active, energetic, and only too willing to over-exert the body. He had said that she would probably become PAIN AND PLEASURE. page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 38 . NEIGHBORLY LoVE. rapidly weaker for a time, and. must certainly give up school. This was a great blow to them. " Give up-school !" said they ; " why, she will know nothing." "Do not tell her she is to give up school, it will discourage her ; but tell her she is to take these medicines, and lie down a great deal to see if that cures her. Does she ever complain of her back ?" "Not much ; but says she is always so tired, so very tired and cold." " That is it. I told the doctor so, and he said that is the fever that some children - not all have with this complaint. Do you' think you, shall have time, Mrs. Mervyn, to read to her ? She might learn much in that way. I am often at leisure in the afternoon ; if she likes to come and lie upon my little sofa when you are too busy to read to her, I- will teach her a little. You know I am used to it, and fond df it. I only send my little girls to school because they require more time than I can give them; but I shall take them away by-and-by for half the day." This plan pleased Ailie's parents very much, and it sounded very well. Ailie had the whole attention of a kind, cultivated teacher, and now her little body was not aching with the fatigue of walking to school, and sitting on a hard fori. She could give her mind more thoroughly to the subject before her, and though she still had pain to suffer, and some days it was so severe that even Mrs. Aylmer's lessons were too much, and the poor little pale lips were firmly closed that no sound might escape them, even those days were not lost, for Mrs. Aylmer, while tenderly placing cushions, or supporting in her arms the suffering child, would whisper two or three words of pa- tience, hope, and courage, that soothed her mind as the anconite she applied soothed the body. Ailie's mind was growing fast ; living much with older people, hearing her father's conversa- tion with her mother or with Mrs. Aylmner, in the intervals of his visits, led her to think of higher and deeper questions than those who get on best at school; and though she had never been told she was not to return there, the weeks had passed on, her time had been filled up, her weakness had . . AND PLEASu7 E" page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 NEIGHBORLY LOTE 41 PAIN AND PLEASURE. increased, and she no longer thought about going to schdol with Maggie. All rivalry was at an end, and Maggie and the boys, seeing how real the great doctor had thought their sister's head- aches and "tiredness," felt ashamed of their for- mer jeers and hard, unkind disbelief, of which Ailie never seemed to think now, and showed her kindness and attention that quite won her grate- ful heart. "How kind every one is now ! " said she. "They would have been so always, had you been as you are now, in their eyes, -a real but uncomplaining sufferer. We cannot expect peo- ple to guess what we try to hide, and only let out in cross tempers ; moreover, that seems to be un- reasonable," said Mrs. Aylmer. " But, Ailie, dear, you must watch and pray still. Knowing that you are ill makes people avoid putting vexa- tions and temptations in yoir way, it is true; but that does not prove that you are really less easily vexed." "How shall I be sure? " said Ailie. "Observe when vexations arise, which they will do some day, if you still think things happen or are done on purpose to vexyou. " I-ow do you know I used to do so? " asked Ailie. 1 I know my own heart, Ailie, dear; observe whether you are selfish still, - whether it still is your first thought. How does this affect me ? Illness brings new dangers ; selfishness is one of the greatest, and needs constant striving and praying against. Is the pain coming on, my child ? " " A little; " and Ailie turned away her face, that her kind friend might not, be grieved, for it was a veiy severe fit that was coming on, and she was learning to command herself for others. Presently she felt the gentle hand apply the anconite, and heard the gentle voice murmur softly, "'Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' " "Sing it," gasped she. And the sweet notes rose on the air, and seemed to Ailie to still her pain. The voice fell a little lower. " Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me; for I am meek and lowly - and lowly in heart; page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 MIGHBORTY LOVE. and ye shall find rest and ye shall find rest unto your souls." There was a pause, and the sweet strain began again in another key, " He shall feed his flock like a shepherd, and gather the lambs with His arms, and carry them in His bosom." Ailie turned round, her eyes full of tears, --- " Oh, dear, dear friend !. this has been the worst pain I have had yet, and you have made it the happiest moment of my life." CHAPTER V. "TRIALS." Tn weeks passed on, and the children's lives went on also, without much change. Martin, Tony, and Maggie +ent to school, and did fairly well there. Nesie was writing better than before, and, like the Tryphies, was intent upon gaining prizes at Christmas, e$ecially the prizes for arith- metic and history. Tryphena was very clever and quick at both ; but Tryphosa was less frightened when questioned, which is a very great advantage. Maggie hoped for the geography and history prize, and talked much of it. Andrew was at the head of the boys' school when he left, but his master could not be expected to wait while he gained his prizes. Ailie, undisturbed Ow by envious thoughts, and able to interest herself in what she learned for its own sake, was very anx- (43) page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] 44 NEIGHBORLy VE, ious to hear all about the hopes and fears of the others. It was cold weather now, and she could no longer even cross tb e street to come to her friend. She had grown very much weaker, and though the doctor had said that it must be so be. fore she could begin to improve, it was very dis. tressing to her father and alarming to her mother. "It really seems, Mrs. Aylmer" said she, "as if Ailie's visit to the doctor - for which I am sure I thank you heartily, had laid her, as one may say, on a sick bed; and as if she got on better than before." "Mrs. Mervyn," said Mrs. Aylmer, "did you ever sprain your hand or your thumb ? " "Oh, yes, to be sure. But you don't mean, her back is sprained, do you ?" "4No; but I wish to remind you how you went on doing all you could, and thinking the sprain was nothing ; fighting away with pain, and doing everything slowly and awkwardly, till some one advised you to have'it bound up." "Yes, yes, I remember; and it was my right hand, too. How it did ache, to be sure !" "But when it was bound up could you use it better?" TRIALSS. "45 " Not at first. I was obliged to wear a sling, and rest it as much as I could." "So that you looked and seemed more help- less, but really suffered less and- got better ? Well, may not little Ailie be doing the same? At all events, you know if she had been fancyiug erself ill, she would haye been tired of so many privations long ago." " Oh yes ; no one thinks that of her now." "I remember a little girl who was often fanci- ful, saying she had hurt her back. There was nothing to be seen and the doctor thought it was a fancy, but said, ' Keep her lying down : if it is real it is the only thing to do, and if it is a fancy it will cure it.' Some of .the family said it was all nonsense, she ought to be made to get up and study. Others pitied her, and said she ought to be allowed to get up and play; but her governess had understood the doctor's opinion, and let her move neither to study, play, nor eat ; for she said, 'If we only pet her the fancy may continue, if it is a fancy; and if she is really hurt, we cannot be too careful at her age.' " At the end of three days the little girl said page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] 46 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. she was cured. The doctor looked again but could find no mischief ; and she ran and played as before, and was in no hurry to be again upon the sick-list, for she said, "'1My governess is 'very kind, but she made me quite tired of being.ill and laid up.' " "You do not let Ailie feel that so," wasthe short but fervent reply of Mrs. Mervyn. "She is quite different now, so patient and gentle; al- ways thinking about other people, instead of complaining about herself." Mrs. Aylmer's eyes shone, but she only re- replied, "Ailie is bearing her troubles as a message from ' God. That makes her different. And then -do you not think that her illness makes a difference in the others also ? " "Oh yes, that it does ! The boys area more quiet and helpful, and Maggie - well, she was perhaps a bit set up by being always set over Ailie, who was older, you see ; but she's sorry for' her now, and. says, ' Ailie's grown so nice she's ill.' " " Well, dear Mrs. Mervyn, this is a heavy trial .for you, but- there are some comforts in it, are there not?" Mrs. Aylmer said this gently and kindly, and Mrs. Mervyn replied heartily, "There are, indeed. Thank you for showing them to me, and for all you've done for Ailie. I think we are all really the better for knowing the truth." " That we are," said Mrs. Aylmer ; "and though. it may make us ' sow in tears, we shall reap in joy,' you know." " That means another sort of truth, though." "Yes; it means truth as to our souls, -tears of repentance, joy of forgiveness. We can go on for some time without noticing the sickness of our souls: the pain they give us is attributed to some other cause: but if God, by some sorrow, or trouble, or fear, opens our eyes to our own state, we do indeed discover a worse complaint than poor Ailie's and but one remedy -the cross of Christ, and repentance at the foot of that cross. " But you know all this better than I, and I did not mean to say so much, only the subject drowsy me on. My prayer would always be, 'Lord, let me know the truth!' " TRIALS." 47 t 1 ¢ page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 NEIGHBoRLY LOVE. Mrs. Mervyn had just left Mrs. Aylmer when she met Maggie coming home from school. " Oh, mother," cried Maggie, " there's such a fuss at school, and both the Tryphies are in ito!o" " How do you mean, Maggie ? Are you in it?" " No, mother ; I will tell you. There was the last Geography and History class to-day, and of course we were very anxious to be first, because the prizes are to be given on Monday, and, as far as we know, we four first have an equal chance." "As far as you know?" " Yes ; as it is an upper class, they give us 'counters' for good answers, and at the end we count them, and so does the teacher, and she sets. down the number to our names, and we give back the counters. We keep a list, too, each of us, of the marks we each have each time; but that is our own affair. " Near the end of the class, Tryphena, who was the first of us four, seemed to have the best chance. She had not missed one question, and had taken up several. (We don't take places -, only counter -in this class.) Sitting next to her was Rhoda Simmons, and then Tryphosa; I was the fourth. Tryphena had answered her question; it was Rhoda's turn. . She did not know; it was passed to Rhoda and me, and then all down the class, and so to Tryphena again. She knew, and gave the answer ; but while she was speaking, she slipped under the table, and Rhoda called out that she had lost some counters. "Of course, this put every one out, and quite upset the class. Tryphena was told to get up, but she had her foot under her, and could not at first, and when she did, she was very pale, The teacher finished the round, and counted the counters and the questions she had asked; but it was difficult to be sure because of the taking up. Certainly, Rhoda had seemed, just before, to have as many as rlhie and 1, but now she had four less, and Tryphie had two more." " Which Tryphie ? Tryphosa ? " "Tryphosa. As she sat next to Rhoda, Rhoda, accused-her of having stolen them. Tryphie had 4 / " TRIALS* 7 9 49 page: 50 (Illustration) [View Page 50 (Illustration) ] '.0 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. her list of questions that she had answered, by her side, and Tryphena had her list of her own and Tryphie's and Rhoda's. It is a fancy of hers to make those lists, and it never prevents her attending and being ready to take up; and by the lists, Tryphie had answered one more ques- tion and taken up one more .than Rhoda, and so had I. "Every one was much vexed, of course ; but you see, dear mother, if it is not cleared up, I am first, for the two others will not be reckoned, and Rhoda has fewer counters; and so the prize will be mine for certain." Mrs. Mervyn did not look, perhaps, so flurried as Mrs. Aylmernmight have done, had she heard such a remark from one of her children, but she said, " I had rather you gained it in some other way, Maggie. Was that all that passed.?" " Oh no, mother. The teacher said she must keep back Rhoda and the Tryphies after school, and desired them to go into her sitting-room, and Rhoda to the great school-room. We were in the class-room. But when Tryphie tried to move, she fell down in a faint." page: -51[View Page -51] " TRIALS." 51 " Tryphena?" " Yes; she had hurt her foot by falling with it under her, and the teacher carried her into the next room, and sent for a surgeon, for she thought it looked odd, I believe. She said she must go back: to her; so she only came in to tell me to send the doctor, and to tell her mother, and she desired us all not to speak of the lost counters." "And you have, Maggie!" " Only to you, mother ; I will not say a word to any one else." At this moment, Nesie ran in to his mother's house, and they saw Mrs. Aylmer come out with him directly. She did not seem to see or notice them. " Poor woman ! I" said Mrs.1Mervyn, "trouble's come to her again, now, But let us go in to Aili , who will be wanting her dinner. Do not 4ell ier about the lost counters." ' No, mother, I will not." . page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] THE PRIZES. CHAPTER VI.. THE PRIZES. WHEN Mrs. Aylmer entered the. school, she, found one Tryphie drying, and the other consoling her, and assuring her that the pain was not very great. One glance at her face showed her mother how great it was ; and one look at her foot made her perceive that the surgeon's visit would not be unnecessary. She had' "put out" her ankle, and it was already swelling fast, though the teacher had been fomenting it all the time. The surgeon arrived, and the teacher took Tryphosa tq Rhoda, saying she wanted to be quite clear about their story ; but very much in order that Tryphosa might not see the operation of setting the ankle. The ,surgeon having inquired how the accident had occurred, Tryphena grew a little less pale, and said that she had slipped off the chair, and (52) had fallen upon her foot, which was twisted under her. "Very curious," said the doctor: "such a fall as that does not in general dislocate a joint, unless there is some force used, and some push given." Tryphena did not reply. She was very pale, and looked faint. They gave her some hartshorn, and then the surgeon said ho should advise her going to the hospital, as~ she could be better attended to ; and that, if her case were not very carefully watched, she night become lame. Try- phena looked at her mother, and felt as if she could not go ; but then, recollecting how much trouble and fatigue she might cause that dear mothe:L, she tried to smile, and said, " Thank you, sir ; it will be better." He then went away, saying he would send for her in half an hour, and that she must not be allowed to talk or excite herself. Poor little girl! he little knew how much there was to excite her. Mrs. Aylmer went to speak to the teacher, and finding Rhoda with her, and Tryphie, discovered r 1' ; t' 53 i+ .S* !lfs yr - * s' t s page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. that something unusual had occurred beside the accident. The teacher told her the story as far as she had seen, and added Rhoda's assertion which however she said she did not herself be- lieve. Rhoda now said that Tryphena had taken the counters and passed them to her sister, and that it was in doing so that she slipped and fell. Tryphosa denied the fact. Rhoda said, Maggie could bear witness to her having done so, and more than once, before. "Rhoda," said the teacher, "are you not bearing false witness ? I never knew Tryphena or Tryphosa do anything mean or dishonorable." If Mrs. Aylmer had been grieved to see Try. phie suffer, she was much .more grieved to hear this imputation cast upon her children's honor. Her own words, one short hour before, came back to her, "Lord, let me know the truth." She could not believe her children guilty ; yet Rhoda boldly accused them, and called Maggie to witness that they had been, deceiving their teacher and their companions. She could not ask Try- phena about it, but she resolved to question Maggie closely herself ; and her own little Try- phosa would, she knew, never sleep till she had confessed her fault, IF GUILTY. She went back to Tryphena, who looked at her anxiously. " Mother, you know all ? " I do, my child, all that is said ; but you must not talk, you know." " Only one word, mother ; Tryphie never did such a thing, - she could not." " I believe you, my child. Hush ! here are porters come for you." She was warmly covered up and carried away, her mother and Tryphie following her and seeing her received into the hospital; but they were not admitted with her, and went home sadly enough. Nesie waiting for news of her, and. for his dinner, was there ready for them. The dinner passed silently, and Nesie thought his sister must be very bad, by the depression of the others. His mother saw that, and said to him, "No, my boy, Tryphie will do very well; but I have another matter that grieves me, and that I cannot tell you about at present. Tryphie, dear, it is THE PRIZES. page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] NEIGHBORLY LOVE. T Z very late, but you may do as you like about going to afternoon school to-day, after the events of the morning." " I think I had rather go, mother," said Try- phie. " Nesie, are you ready ?" And they started together. Mrs. Aylmer, looking out,. saw Maggie and Rhoda just before them; she stepped out and called her children, giving them a message to leave for her on their way. This just detained . them till the others were out of sight. She felt it hard to bear this trial; and, though she approved of Tryphie's wish to go to school, she felt the time long without her, and less will- ing to go and tend little Ailie than usual. Still she felt that, since the child could not come to her, she must go, or be guilty of selfishness and neglect of a suffering child, and of a duty she had voluntarily undertaken- She went therefore. Ailie was much surprised and touched to see her, and said she did not ex- pect her, knowing of poor Tryphena's accident. She evidently had not heard of anything else, and her gentle, loving words of sympathy and sorrow fell like dew on the.spirit of her friend. One hour - two hours passed, and Mrs. Ayl- mer looking out, saw the little round figures she was longing for coming home. She kissed Ailie and left her, and met Tryphie at the door ; the boys were often nearly two hours later, and they would have time for a long conversation before Nesie's return. She asked Maggie's mother to let Maggie step over when she returned ; and Maggie's mother said she would do so. and asked if Tryphena could be visited nex day. " Not till Sunday," was the reply, given in so sad a tone that it told how heavy the mother's heart was at the thought. Mr. Aylmer and Tryphie went in ; she took her little girl on her lap and caressed her ten- derly. "Now," said she, " my darling child, tell me all you khow about this sad story." " Oh, mother ! you do not think we did it?" " No, my dear, I do not think so ; and I do not even clearly see why you are suspected. It does not seem certain that Rhoda had lost any counters." "Oh, yes, mother, I'm afraid it is, for the 1 2.Y'd'isr4.+' + s;.3.4ty'.d3C'8L '. I '+' 7+ :KSM " *"ff rv(c+m v - rdmmo a er .saeseaww+wsb.+ + + 56 f,7 THE PRIZES. page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. teacher made us show our lists this afternoon, and Maggie's and Rhoda's agreed. By that we three had the same till the'last turn, when Rhod4a missed her question; but that only made one less, not four." "What does the teacher say?" "She says that it is not at all likely that either of us should think of doing such: a thing, but if it is not cleared up, she cannot let either of us try for the prize." "Maggie says she saw Tryphie hand you some- thing behind Rhoda. Did she do so ? " " Yes ! my pencil, which I had forgotten. She had put it into her riting-book for me; but that was at the beginning of the class. I wanted it for my task. Oh, mother ! mother ! why must we be blamed ? We did not do it." Maggie now came in, her manner rather an odd mixture of bluntness and insincerity. "Mother said you wanted me," said she. "I suppose it's about this business." "It is, Maggie. I believe you. are a truthful child, in general. Tell the truth now, and I shall ever be thankful to you. What did you see THE PRIZES. 59 happen this morning, during the geography class ? " Maggie, thus solemly addressed, felt inclined to reply by telling the same story she had told her mother in the morning (even then she had not mentioned one or two important little facts); but recollecting all that Rhoda had said to her since, and the prize so nearly within her grasp, she said only, "I saw Tryphena fall, and Rhoda count her counters." "Did you see Tryphena take any, and give them to Tryphosa ? " "I saw her give them to Tryphosa." "What made her fall? "I don't know. Reaching over, I suppose." This was said hesitatingly. Tryphosa said, " I think Rhoda's counters may have fallen, for I felt her make a sudden move, I suppose to catch Tryphie, and she may have knocked down her counters." "The class-room was searched," said Maggie, " and even all the books of maps there and in the big school-room opened and shaken, to see t .,. ,. , page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] THE PRIZES. 61 *1~ if any counters were hidden in them, but there were none." " Has the head master been told of it?" "The teacher told him after evening school, and he is 'going to 'Mr. Randolph to-morrow, if nothing is found out, for the prizes are still to be given on Monday." Mr. Randolph was the clergyman, and he took great pains with his school, and especially with this class, which was an idea of his own. 2 Poor Tryphie looked frightened. "Do not be alarmed, dear," said her mother." "if you have done nothing wrong. In any case, speak the truth, and leave shame to those who do not." She spoke rather severely for her, for she felt sure Maggie was hiding something, she could not tell what; but her face did not go with her words at all. She blushed, and went home directly. " What reason do they think we could have had, mother, for acting so ? Tryphie was nearer the prize than any one, and I was equal ro the others." "Perhaps they fancy she wanted to make sure of yo+yrboth being first and equal, so as to have two prizes. But they do not know Tryphie. She would give up her own prize to you, but never steal one for you." "Would it be stealing, mother ? " "Of course it would - taking what is not yours. But here comes Nesie. No more such talk before him, Tryphie ! Nesie came in, and the evening was spent as usual. Andy came in late ; and the history of Tryphena's accident had to be told him. IIe had heard nothing, of course, and was much grieved, poor boy ; so much so, that he found his lessons very difficult to learn that evening. How small a party they felt themselves without Tryphena ! She was the quietest, but how they missed her voice ! She was the slightest, yet how empty seemed the table without her ! She was the palest, yet how pale and dull did everything look, now she was not there ! The next day was Saturday, and Mr. Randolph went to the school, called the class together, and examined the children separately and collectively. F Cz f, . fi k" - 7s ' Lti - j i' R; " 3 f L x ft f ! i ,g-, ( '_ i , , i Y. {_ r .. E i 60 NEIGHBORLY LOVE* page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] ,i " ° , z ; +i -: b i 62 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. None of them had anything to testify of any importance except Maggie and Rhoda, and they repeated the same story, supporting each other as before. Mr. Randolph saw truth in the fair fea- tures of little Tryphie, he thought, but the cir- cumstances were against her; and he did not see it in the expression of Rhoda and Maggie, but facts were in their favor. He went to the hos pital, but Tryphena was very feverish, and could not be questioned, or even spoken to. Mr. Randolph decided that neither Rhoda nor the Tryphies should be reckoned as trying for the prize; but he asked to see the books, that he might make a memorandum of the number of counters and good marks they had gained, in case anything should be discovered later. And Maggie? Maggie was rather a difficulty. If she were telling the truth, it would be hard to punish her; she had accused no one until desired to speak. Mr..Randolph decided that she might still try. Of course she was successful. Tuesday was the day on which they were to see Tryphena ; but the poor little girl's mind had r, .F 4I { THE PRIZES. 63 been so agitated, that her fever ran high, and they were only allowed to kiss her, and look at her, and sit beside her. They had the less difficulty, therefore, in not telling her about the prizes. It would have been a shock to her, for she had never heard herself accused, we must remember. Monday came - a bright, beautiful winter's day. Mrs. Aylmer, Nesie, and Tryphie went to the giving of the prizes. There were a good many to be given ; and, as the very little ones were called first, after Mr. Randolph's few words of address and prayer, it was some time before Tiyphie's class was called to receive its honors. The prize for arithmetic was Tryphena's-no doubt about that, Mr. Ran- dolph said, and he was sorry she was not there to receive it. The prize for geography should have been hers also ; but, owing to an accusation, that time would, he hoped, prove to have been mis- taken, it could not be awarded either to hei or to her accuser. He was obliged, for the same rea- son, to withhold altogether the 'prize for 'good conduct; and as this was more important than the R44 t 4 . page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] NEIGHBORLY LOVE. other, he should wait one month, in order to give her time to recover from her accident, and for her character for honor and integrity to assert itself, as he felt sure it would do. The tears shone brightly in her ,mother's eyes and in Tryphie's also ; and she found that seeing Maggie with her sister's prize was not so very bad after all, if Mr. Randolph still thought well of her. She started on hearing her own name, and found she was to receive a prize for writing, and one for needlework. The elder classes then received their prizes, and the boys came in for theirs. Martin and Tony had nothing very brilliant,. a prize for reading and one for spelling ; but they were little fellows. Nesie had one for maps and charts, which he drew uncommonly well; and one for singing, also, which was taught in this school. He had a beautiful voice, and a very good ear. And thus were the prizes given. CHAPTER VII. SNOWDROPS. THE prizes being now given, the whole story was, of course, in everybody's li)5, and Martin, Tony, and Nesie heard it directly, as well as Ailie. Maggie was vexed to see Ailie's bitter grief at such an accusation being iide and be- lieved. She said it was '' perfectly impossible " for Mrs. Aylmer's girls to do such a thing. When she said this, her mother and Maggie turned upon her, and said she cared more for the Aylmers than for her own people; and Ailie hav- ing said once, "Oh no, indeed not, dear mother; but I do not like them to be unjustly blamed," found that her words did more harm than good, and that it would be better to mourn in silence over the troubles of the Tryphies. 5 (65) i1j !; 3Y bE i F' , i _ -t t' i ? ,;i v f z ,i, E ,2' , _ {,. 64 page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] NEIGHBORLY LOVE. SNOWDROPS. s ',I e t . k : . _., .Tts ,' Rhoda had become a much more frequent visi- tor at their home of late; she and Maggie were often closeted together; she did not care much for Ailie, nor did Ailie particularly take to her ; she did not trust hei The boys were pleased that they and Maggie had each a prize to show, and did not think much of the Aylmers' troubles. Their chief subject of lamentation was their father's absence from home, "just when they wanted him most." As if children knew when they wanted their father most! And Maggie? what was her state of mind? had the desired prize brought her all the joy she had expected ? or had Tryphosa's and Ailie's tears, and Mrs. Aylmer's solemn entreaties, and Mr. Ran- dolph's serious warnings, already taken off the edge of her enjoyment? Did she wish she had done nothing to procure it, except fulfil her duties? Did she regret, that, whilst at school on Friday morning with Rhoda, in which she had said, " I think it will be mine -1[ think it will be mine ; but I wish I was sure, of it." "If two were equal, they would give two prizes you and me, Maggie ; " but Rhoda replied, Yes. Not Tryphena and Tryphosa." "If I saw them getting on too fast, I would check them, only don't you tell, or warn them. Hush ; here they are." This evil thought, once suggested, had taken root. Nothing more had passed then ; buL Mag-, gie had seen - yes, seen -Rhoda push Trypliena, who was sitting awkwardly on the very edge of the chair, just as she was answering a question. She did not see her put into her pocket- several counters at the same time. Maggie told the story to her mother, as we have seen, without these lit- tle particulars. Rhoda, when relieved, came to her, in order to find out exactly how much she knew, and bribe her to silence. You know," said she, '' I have gone too far now to go back; if you tell of me, we both lose the prize, and those Aylmers will be made more of than ever, and Trvphena is sure of the arith- metic prize already. I dare say you and I shall both get prizes flow ; at all events, you will, and I like' that better than their having it, and my f li r _11 {; s &: a a i '"i r fv_ r 4 r 66 67 page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] SNOWDROPS. (9 being made to confess; but you must say you saw Tryphena give Tryphosa something behind me, and make your list like mine." And Maggie had consented, and had told these lies-yes, they were lies - what for? To gain a prize, and steal it, for she had no right to it -- to help a wicked. child to grow worse - to injure two innocent little girls - to grieve their widowed mother, and her own father ; yes Maggie knew how he would look did he know all; he who was honor itself in word and deed and thought, and whose great anxiety about Tony had always been that he was not sure of his truthfulness,. But he was absent, and Maggie, unlike the boys, did not regret his absence ; for the first time in her life she feared to meet his eye. Nor did she particularly wish to see Tryphena. She was not very likely to do so. The poor lit- tie girl's ankle was not going on well, and the fever of that, and her troubles kept her many weeks at the hospital. Nesie's first burst of indig- nation, and Andrew's deeper resentment, at the J, treatment their sisters had received, were lost in the anxiety they suffered for Tryphena's recovery. ' FS She had a swelling, like what is called, on the knee, a white swelling, a thing that hardly ever comes in the ankle, and was for some time very .ill; but after the first ten or twelve days was able to see them, and then little Nesie it was who told her all she and her sister had been accused of, and of the final arrangement of the prizes. Wheii she heard that Maggie said she had slipped in pushing the counter's to Tryphie, she was going to speak, but stopped herself. Nesie went on - "So now they think you took them and Tryphic kept them; but I say - what eyes your teachers must have not to see all these things ; why, we boys should be had up in a moment if we attempted such tricks." Nesie was right ; and Mr. Randolph, if he said little, was pretty much of the same opinion, for he took that class himself for some time, and soon remarked that Rhoda, far from being one of the first in real knowledge, was inferior to many whose counters always reckoned less than hers, and he resolved to watch her carefully. We shall soon see the result. Tryphena was at last able to walk on crutches, 68 NEIGHBORLY LOVE c page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] NEIGHBORLY LOVE. L and to come back to her home in time for her school. She was very weak, pale, and shadowy, and I do not think Ailie's want of self-command, in bursting into tears when she saw her, was quite inexcusable in one so weak as she herself was. -She was expecting her father home also,, and that might make her a little more excitable than usual. Tryphena's mother took her away quickly, for the sake of both lytle girls, and put her to bed ; and she was rather surprised, later in the evening, when Tryphosa was gone to bed also, to receive a visit from Ailie's father and Mr. Randolph-. They soon told her their business. "Mrs Aylmer,". said Mr. Randolph, "we are come to tell you that we are in hopes of being able to prove your children's innocence to others. We are quite sure of it.ourselves. This evening, Mr. Mervyn came home, and of course his chil- dren soon showed him their prizes, and told him all the.events that had attended the prize-giving. He had been struck with Ailie's indignation, and with her asking Maggie, A "'Did Tryphie fall behind Rhoda?' "' No ; she fell forward on the right side.' "' Was Rhoda on her right hand?' " .No ; on her left.' ' Then how could she have been giving any- thing to Tryphie, behind and beyond Rhoda on the left side, when she fell forward, and to the right. It is impossible, is it not father?' a He was struck with the observation, and said it was impossible, and that he would come that moment to me ; but he wondered no one had no- ticed that before. " Ailie begged him to come at once. She seemed to have been building upon the hope of his doing something when he returned ; and having seen Tryphena that day, made her doubly anxious. Therefore," continued Mr. Randolph, "' I shall make this known publicly in school to- morrow; for if this account be proved to be false, everything else must be so, as it all turns upon this. I have reason to suspect that one of the parties concerned is not strictly honest or honor- able. The mark-books have been tampered with, t1;4 WV 4 Ii 1' 70 71 SNOWDROPS. page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] P I r N 4 Tit iEi t} "" NEIGHBORLY LOVE. and a '50' cleverly altered to '66;' and a regular system of keeping back two counters after the sum was entered and set down - as a stock--in-trade for next time -I have myself dis- covered. This must be known to-morrow, so I do not scruple to mention it to-night. Mr. Mervyn may be thankful if his own little girl escapes the contagion of such an example. I shall be glad of Tryphena's own evidence, for Mr. Mervyn will come and see her in the morn- ing. The walk to the school would be too much for her, I suppose." "Thank you, sir," said Mrs. Aylmer, "I think it would ; but I could bring her to your house." " Well, do so at twelve, and I will have the other children there, and the teacher, but not the whole school. That will be better in every way. Good-night." He gave her his hand, and went away. Mr. Mervyn waited a little, and Mrs. Aylmer spoke of his journey, and also of the sorrow she felt for poor.Maggie's share;of the trouble. '' Better so, Mrs. Aylmer," said he-and the )' SNOWDROPS. 73 strong man's voice trembled -'' better so now than hereafter. God knows I love them all tenderly; but I had rather lose them all now for heaven, than see them grow up, 'fit for the Devil and his angels:' and such we know are liars. Your children are an honor to you, and I am as glad almost as you are, that the pretty little Tryphies are to get over their troubles as the snowdrops come through the snow," added he, smiling ; and then, more gladly, '' God knows all you have done for my Ailie ; she is growing more like them every day, and sweeter and better she could not be; and it's your doing. God bless you!" " Thank you. Amen!" said she, her eyee shining- 72 page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] A RESTITUTION. A RESTITUTION. MRS. AYLMVIER and Tryphena started in good time the next norning; for though Tryphena had been using her crutches in the house for some time, they still felt strange to her in the streets, and she was verb weak, so that after every few steps she had to rest. While she was doing so, she found herself carefully and gently lifted in some kind, strong arms, and Mr. Mervyn's voice said, " That is it, Tryphie dear. Here's your horse ready to carry you, so that you. may be all fresh for the Rectory." Mrs. Aylmer had taken her crutches, and they went on. It was in the next street but one - a mere step to any one who was well and active ; And Mr. Mervyn would not allow Tryphie or (74) her mother to thank him. He said he was al- lowed to attend also, and Rhoda's parents, so that every one might see and hear justice done. It did not -take very long. Mr. Randolph spoke to the children in the name of Him "to whom all hearts are open, and from whom no secrets are hid," to declare all that they knew, and invited Maggie and Rhoda, for their own sakes, to speak and confess the truth before he told it for them. '' For," said he, '' a great in- justice has been done to two innocent persons, and cannot be allowed to go on." "Has any child here anything to say?" con- tinued he, looking round the class. There was no answer for a minute, but Mary Flaxmore, a little creature, said that she had passed Rhoda and Maggie walking to school on Friday morning, and had heard Maggie say, And Tryphena and Tryphosa? Oh, if they are getting on too fast," replied Rhoda, '' I can soon check them; but don't tell them." Mr. Randolph wrote that down, and said, "Why did you not tell this before, Mary?" [ i Ii 'I j1 page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] IY K r = 24. NEIGHBORLY LOVE "Because, please, sir, I were away all the time to 'the holidays. Baby was took ill that same day, and I never came back - I had to nurse him." This, the teacher said, was true., "But you were at the class, Mary?" "Yes, sir; and I saw Rhoda's face when she missed her question. It went all round us, and came back to Tryphena, and then I saw -I saw "What did you see?" "I saw Rhoda push Tryphena, so as to stop her short in her answer, and send her off her chair ; and she took some of her counters up in her hand." " Whose counters?" " Her own, please, sir." " Tryphena," said Mr. Randolph, "why did you not say Rhoda pushed you?" Tryphena flushed crimson, and her little pale hands shook with agitation. "I do not think any one but the surgeon asked me how I fell, sir," replied she. Every one present felt why Tryphena had not RESTITUTION. 77 complained, and looked at her with respect and affection. Mary Flaxmore's evidence made the first part of the story clear ; and Mr. Randolph told her she had told it very well, so quietly and dis- tinctly. e' Every one," said he, looking around, " must now be convinced that Tryphosa did not steal the counters; but some may still believe that Try- phena took them, and slipped in handing them to her sister. Now all answer me - which way did she fall? Right or left? Forwards or back- wards? Against Rhoda, or away from her?" " Away from her ! To the right ! Towards ! " He then made three of the children sit down in a row, and showed the class, that if the first of the row leaned back to give anything to the third and lost her balance, she must fall behind the second ; but that if the second pushed her, she would fall away from her. They all understood this perfectly, also. " So, then, you see that Tryphena is innocent. Now we must do justice." Mrs. Mervyn stepped forward. 76 14, ;ftk ." J ll , Ij , ( L 11y ' i 4)~1?t . x _. iV page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] f2 IV, NEIGHBORLY LOVE. "S-ir," said she, "my little crippled girl at home had a great struggle with herself before she would confess all she knew, on account of her sister, but I made her give me this paper." Tryphena rose as well as she could, and begged Mr. Randolph not to say more about the prize; she did not want that, she said; now that no ohe thought Tryphosa or herself guilty of so dis- graceful an action, - that was all she was un- happy about. But Mr. Randolph told her that could not be. Ailie's evidence must be accepted as well as Mary Flaxmore's, and the matter must be sifted to the bottom; but he added, seeing how pale she was - "You may go home, my dear, now; this is quite sufficient for you." They took her out. She was- indeed pale and quite worn out. Mrs. Mervyn carried her home (she -could not have used her crutches now), and her mother put het on the bedto rest. Mr. Randolph read aloud the paper as fol- lows:-. "I heard Rhoda and Maggie say one day that RESTITUTION. 79 they had altered the lists, and made up their story wonderfully well, for that no one suspected the truth. I told Maggie I had heard this, and begiged her to go and confess everything. She would not, and I told her I should tell father ; but still I only could when he saw I was hiding some- thing. I am very sorry to have to say it. Bint he says Truth and Justice ought to ,come first. - AILIE. It was signed " Aie," and all the children knew the writing, weak as it was. lie then spoke of Tryphena's conduct in not exposing Rhoda, and contenting herself with declaring her sister's inocence and her own, refusing to t:ike her prize from Maggie, and said she had certainly deserved the Good Conduct prize which had been reserved ; and that he thought Tryphena would let Mary Flaxmore go with her to carry it to her sister. Tryphosa and Mary thanked him, but their voices were lost, for all the children ex- claimed, Thank you, thank you, sir!" All except Maggie and Rhoda. "Rhoda," said he severely, " if you were a lit-. 78 i y. F'I r' of: FLT %tE page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 NEIGHBORLY LOVE.' tie older you would be sent out of the school alto- gether. I shall, however, considering you are so young, even younger than your real age, only put you into the little citlass till vacation. If your conduct and your improvement satisfy me till then, you-shall return to your companions. You have been guilty of several great sins, and of some of them I shall have occasion to speak to you more. freely in private ; but this must be generally known, you have been detected in cheating as to the number of your counters, altering your priv- ate list, and the schoolbooks - look here. Are not these your figures? You no doubt hoped to gain the prize for Diligence, to be given at School, by the help of thesemarks; but finding the books had been touched, I have desired new books to be made out from Christmas, and kept out of sight, therefore you have gained nothing. Your conduct to Tryphena and Tryphosa has been cruel and base; but your conduct to Maggie has been worse. The injury you did, to the Aylmers' good name has passed by, and left them higher than before in every one's estima- tion. Tryphena's sufferings, of which you were t 4 RESTITUTION. 81 1..i 5 i e i 13 the cause, may, please God, pass away also ; but to Maggie you may have done eternal injury ; you have persuaded her to begin a course of deceit in order to secure gain, whereby she has dirtied the purity of her mind, has grieved her parents, and has fallen low in the esteem and affection of her friends, and has sinned grievously against her God. It will take her long to recover from this ; but if she is truly penitent she will here confess her fault, and beg pardon of Tryphie for the injury she did her by false accu- sation ; and of all her companions, for having deceived them and given them so bad an exam- ple;, she will then go to Tryphena and Ailie and beg their pardon ; and her own parents' pardon; and she will go to her room and humbly seek for- giveness of God. She will give up being so anxious to befirst, and will strive to keep steadily to her duty in the place to which God has called her." Maggie stepped forward, gave one look round the room, seemed to wish to speak, but her courage failed her;, and she rushed out of fue room. page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 2 NEIGHBORLY LOVE.E "Let her go," said Mr. Randolph, ''"she is probably gone home to tell all to her parents ; and you, my dears," said he, "and the other children may go too. Rhoda must wait ; and, Tryphie, here is the prize for your sister. Her, name is written in it." It was a beautifully bound and illuminated "Pilgrim's Progress," from his owe library. Happy and proud were Tryphie and Mary as they carried the precious book, slung in a hand- kerchief. between them (therefore much less safe than it would have been in the hands of either of them) ; and happy and proud also were all the other little girls of the class, who would accompany them in procession. But we must leave them to their happiness, and remain with Mr. Randolph, Rhoda, and her par- ents. As soon as they were alone, he said, ''"Rhoda, since .I have taken this (l11ss I have watched you; you have every time told me the number of your counters, and kept back two or more, which you added to these gained last time. Thus, if you had six and I put down six, the first time you kept back two; and supposing you received seven next time, you had nine with these two, nine were put down,. and you kept two or three for the next time also. Shall I tell you how I know this? Look here," - he showed her a list he had kept each time of the counters given to each child, a dot standing for each counter, and the numbers put down in the book, thus : - Maggie Tryphosa Rhoda . 10 .9 . sa to t , E f e } r Y ur E, t , , t is ; i a i s t T That he had counted the counters before and after each class, and that there were always two or three missing, exactly agreeing with the surplus in Rhoda's number the next time. That he had resolved to try her during six weeks, in order to be quite sure ; and that the facts were but too plain. "Now Rhoda," said he, ''I have not explained all this to the other children ; they only know in a general way, that you are not trust- worthy, besides having seen it for themselves in the matter of the prize. I do not wish you to gain a character for deceit, and therefore shall 1. i v f ' 83 82 RESTITUTION. .a ." ." .e .e .0 .4 . . RIF f 2; - A r ';r 3 page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. say nothing more this time. You will leave this class till next New Year, and I shall watch you; but if ever I find you cheating again, I shall be obliged to warn every one against trusting you. I say to you as I said to Maggie, confess your sin to God, to your parents, and to those you have injured; and try to improve. You are but a lit.. tle girl, and by God's help, may live so as quite to cause all this sad story to be forgotten." Rhoda looked mortified and-sullen rather than humbled; and her parents, though they thanked Mr. Randolph as they took :her away,,seemed to' think her still more to be pitied than blamed. They went away,; and Mr. Randolph, as he took his hat to go out also, thought within him- self over the characters of these children he was helping to grow up in the love and fear of God; and then dismissed them from his mind with a prayer, and turned his steps and his mind towards the almshouses where he was going to hold service. Maggie had run straight to Tryphena to beg her pardon, and to offer to give her that prize lawfully hers ; but Tryphena persisted in refusing it, saying she never could accept it knowing how very much Maggie had wished for it. Maggie had declared that she would not keep it, after all Mr. Randolph had said who should have it. "Ah, I know," said Maggie, "and if you and Mrs. Aylrner, and Mr. Randolph, all agree, I shall feel that you have really forgiven me. Try- phie shall have it. She is equal to me in counters. You will not take it; I cannot keep it ; let her have it. And here they are all coming down the street, so do say quickly, yes, and forgive me once more all my ill conduct." :Both eagerly forgave her, and assented to the proposal; and Tryphosa made no difficulty about accepting for she said, "I shall consider it as a present from you two ;-- but now look here, Tryphie, here is your Good Conduct prize, and we are all so pleased, they would all come and wish you joy of it." Tryphena rose 'on her elbow, coloring a bright pink, to look at the book and the inscription To TRYPHENA AYLMER, Prize of Good Conduct, Christmas, 1862. "r atient in Tribulation." Lf RESTITUTION. 85 page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] NEIGHBORLY LOVE. and to thank her kind and eager little friends. They did not remain long, for it was every one's dinner-time, and they dispersed like a flock of birds ; Maggie remaining till the last, to whisper to Mrs. Aylmer, " Shall I ever be like Tryphena, do you think ?" Mrs. Aylmer's reply was a kiss, and " By God's blessing you may be, and do all things, Maggie, my child." k . 86 } t 3 }T tE } E, l j Y , t C t !' t t 4 -fI ' CHAPTER IX. A GREATER PRIZE, As Mr. Randolph left the almshouses, a mes- senger said to him - "Sir, you are wanted at Mr. Mervyn's." "I will go directly," said he. And while he is walking there, we will accom- pany Maggie, who left Mrs. Aylmer's, and her three children (for Nesie had come in, too) ad- miring the book, and purposing to dine in haste, for it was nearly time for afternoon school. As she crossed the street and entered her home, she felt as if she could not go fast enough to claim the forgiveness of her parents and Ailie, anC own her sense of the sorrow she had caused them. She opened the door quickly, there was no one in she sitting-room ; but in the bedroom next to it there were several persons standing (87) : page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] NEIGHBORLY LOV:ERE. II with grave figures (for she could not see their, faces), but their way of standing showed that they were in great trouble, and Maggie felt awe- struck, and went forward -softly. They were standing around Ailie's little bed -she lay upon it -white, with pale lips, as she often was after her fits of pain ; but now her eyes were closed, and the doctor was watching her., and silent tears were dropping like quiet rain down the grieved and loving faces around her. Ailie was dying. The moment she had writ- ten that paper, a severe fit of pain had begun, which had ended suddenly in a deathlike swoon, and she had gone from one fainting fit into an- other ever since. Maggie went forward softly, yet her sister heard her light little footstep, and murmured - " iVaggie ! forgive !" and opened her arms, They made way - and Maggie and Ailie were locked in afond embrace. Ailie's arms fell; she had fainted again. The doctor held her wrist, and tried many things to restore her;; but she was in so dead a faint, that he, said she might never revive again, but pass away thus, He was mistaken, however. 89 Mrs. Aylmer had observed the doctor go in, and fearing Ailie was less well, she saw her chil- dren out for school, and Tryphena happy, reading her book and resting, and came over to see her little friend. She saw at once how it was. She bent over her, kissed her, and whispered, "My child, the race is nearly run, the cross of Christ shall be thine exceeding great reward. Amen." Ailie seemed to hear, for the faintest sha- dow of a smile crossed her lips, and she tried to raise her head, as .if to meet another kiss. It was fondly, tenderly, given. " Peace be with this house, and to all that dwell therein." Secretly, soothingly, fell the sounds on those sorrowing hearts. Mr. Randolph caine in and prayed with, and for the departing child in the midst of that afflicted household. Wbep they rose from their knees, she had entered into her rest. Ailie was in Heaven. She had received a better prize than Tryphena's, a nobler joy than the one for which poor Maggie had so falsely but fervently risked all. The little frail body, worn to a skeleton with suffering, was laid to rest, and 4 88 A GREATER PRIZE. page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] Y s t 1 Y "6 igpt i the bright and purified spirit, made to suffer as her Lord suffered, that she migl:it be with Him where He is, was forever rejoicing in His pres- ence. Mrs. Aylmer remained some time with the poor Mervyns; the father was broken down with grief, the mother almost distracted, anId poor Maggie's despair was fearful. It was nearly evening before she could leave the poor sorrowing ones, and go back to Tryphena, who was still alone. " Mother," said she, "how did you find Ailie ? Is she very ill?" " She was very ill, Tryphena, very ill indeed, and her sufferings have long been so severe, that it was evident that her strength was failing; but I did not think it would have been so soon. Yes, my-child, Ailie is gone - hers is the better prize, Tryphie," said she, caressing her little girl, who was too much stunned by the news to weep at first. -"We are still left to sorrow and suffering, but 'dear, patient little Ailie is' at rest for ever- more." Tryphena wept long in silent agony. 91 Oh, mother ! " said she at last, '' I did not know -I did not pray -I did not see her !" " Every agitation made her faint away, Try- phie, therefore I could not fetch you before the prayers, -and indeed there was no time, as all happened so quickly. I have been so long away because of the agony of the rest -iers was all over almost directly I went in. Here Tryphosa came in, crying' violently. She had heard the sad news from one of the neigh.- bors' children. Maggie's absence from school had not muah surprised her; for Rhoda was absent also, and it was easily understood that they would not very much wish to show their faces again that day. But poor Maggie had a deeper cause for her absence. Nesie, who had heard of Ailie's death also, quickly followed his sister, not caring to stay and play as usual with the other boys, which was what generally detained him. The three talked sadly over Ailie's short his. tory, her sufferings, and her happy change of character, and of poor Maggie's visit of repen-. tanee that morning, and of the sorrow she would now suffer, poor child, in the loss of her sister. 90 A GREATER PRIZE. NEIGHBORLY COIVE. page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] 92 NEIGHB3ORLY LOVE~ Mrs. Aylmer left them, and went to meet her boy Andrew. He still came home of an evening for a visit almost every day; but he slept at his master's. She knew his tender heart and thoughtful character, and did not like to let him hear by chance what must grieve him so much. She met him, and after talking a little with him, sent him in to see Tryphena's prize, and hear about all the events of the day, while she went to see if she could assist her poor friends by taking Maggie or the boys into her house for the night. They had so little room that they gladly ac- cepted this friendly offer, and she brought back Maggie and the boys. Andrew was still at home, and he gladly assisted in placing his bed for the two little fellows, and did not go till he had seen Tony safely tucked up in it, and Martin, half undressed, preparing to follow his example. The boys slept heavily; and if the remem- brance of their- loss troubled them, it was, in dreams and not in wakefulness. But Maggie could not sleep. She turned wearily from side to side, and her tears flowed, though silently, far, F A GREATER PRIZE. 93 far into the night. Mrs. Aylmer knew that her sorrow must 'have way, and did not attempt to check it; but when she thought Maggie was find- ing the night weary, she spoke to her in quiet whispers, of Ailie, of her pain, and weakness changed into rest and peace, just as her fretful temper had been, by their aid and by God's bless- ing, changed into the gentleness and patience that had endeared her to them all. "And made it harder to lose her !" broke in Maggie. "I could have borne it then! It was very wrong-but do you know long ago I used to wish I were the eldest. I thought I should have made a better eldest than Ailie, so I wished she had not been born, or was ' And now she is," said she, "I cannot bear it !" A deep sob was heard from the other bed. "4Oh, Maggie, Maggie !" cried Tryphena ; 6c do not say that ! We are all sorry for you. But you know, dear Maggie, we must bear what God wills. Ailie is happy, and you can make your parents happy in time, by your loving and dutiful ways." "6Can I Tryphie ? do tell me how !" t ;- F page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] NEIGHBORLY LOVE. Mrs. Aylmer rose, and lifted Tryphena to the bed where Maggie lay. "Hush !" said she; "do not let us disturb Tryphosa, now she sleeps. She was very tired." So she left the two little girls together, and lay down herself hy the sleeping little Tryphosa. By-and-by Maggie's tears ceased to flow. Tryphena's voice sounded lower and lower, till she whispered, "Mother, she is asleep, and so am I almost. Good-night!" And the household slept. Nil =7 -a 'S 5 i y} t t i i 94 F r CHAPTER X. A GREATER RESTITUTION. FOR some time after poor little Ailie's death, Maggie's father could scarcely bear to have her with him, and this was a great grief to the girl, who wished much to be all in all to him and to her mother. But Maggie, like many of us, had got to learn that in order to be all in all to any one, we must be unselfish, unrepining, have long habits of thoughtfulness and self-denial, and, above all, must inspire confidence. The mortifi- cation did her good, however, and when she found how gladly the Aylmers always welcomed her, and made her one of them, she hoped that she should some day become pleasant to her father, who used to think so much of her. Mrs. Aylmer was always afraid she should discover that one great reason of her father's feeling this (95) page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 11 t NEIGHBORLY, LOVE. kind of reluctance to have her with him arose from the fact that it was writing that paper on her account that had seemed to put the last stroke to little Ailie's life ; and she was glad that Mag- gie's own mind never reverted to this. It would have been a needless additional pain Kfor the life that hung upon such a thread .could not have been prolonged.. The complaint in the spine, had been; so rapid and severe with her, that it had de- stroyed her strength as utterly in a very few months, as it does in most people so afflicted in as many years. Rhoda was in a very uncorfortable state. She was .always less liked than Maggie, and now she was much more shunned and avoided. The loss of her sister had. softened the neighbor's hearts towards Maggie; her giving up the prize to Try hosa, and the affection all the Aylmers showed her, were much in her favor also. But Rhoda confessed nothing, looked sullenly and spitefully at Tryphena whenever she saw her, took no notice of Tryphosa, and never came near Maggie in all her sorrow. The winter was passing away; Spring was A GREATER RESTITUTION. 97 drawing near, and there were to be one or two prizes given, then, unlike those given at Christ- mas. One 'was, as Mr. Randolph had said, for the greatest number of good marks altogether since Christmas. Another was for the best writ- ten answer to a question given to all the school above eight years old. The question this time was, " Who was the bravest of the Patriarchs, and why do you con- sider him so?" Tryphena had no chance of the greatest nuniber of marks. Maggie and Tryphosa, and several others, had attended regularly the whole quarter, missing only a day now and then, while she, of course, had been absent for many weeks. But there was a question prize, as they called it, in each class ; and this she had tried for, and had some hopes of gaining. Her ankle now allowed her to go regularly to school, with only one crutch or a stick ; but it was very apt to twist again and swell up for a few days, and require the help of the two crutches, or even of complete rest. She and Maggie and Tryphosa had not seen each other's answers; but they were all 7 page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] A GREATER RESTITUTION. 99 three done, and only required writing out fairly, which was to be done on next Sunday Eve, and they were to be carried to the school, and judged on Monday. Rhoda, of course, might not try for this, as she was in the six and eight years' old class, and it vexed and annoyed her much to be left out. She had been carefully watched, and detected in one or two attempts totrick or evade the truth ; but yet Mr. Randolph thought that she was im- proving, and might return to her proper place, though not to the geography and history class. He intended to tell her so and also to tell the teacher (who had long been aware of his inten- tions), that after the Spring holidays her place would be supplied by another from the Training Institution, and that he had found for her a school to manage, under his brother in the country. On entering the schoolroom, he saw the teacher, and spoke to her, but he did not see Rhoda. He asked where she was, and was told that she had come to school, looking rather miserable, and complaining of -sick-headache, which soon became so bad that she had asked leave to go home. He heard the children read, went on to visit the boys, and the rest of his parish duties, and thought no more of Rhoda, till he recollected that she lived in a place called Burns' Alley, where there had been a case or two of fever. After school, Tryphosa and Maggie, who were grown great friends, said they should run home to have time for some work they were intent upon, if Tryphena did not mind being left behind. " No," said she ; " only please tell mother not to mind if I am late, because I want to go and see how Rhoda is, she seemed so poorly." " See Rhoda! with your lame feet!" they cried, "Oh, yes, it is not far." It was not really far, but it was far for Try- phena. She had left the street in which the schoolhouse stood, when she heard some one groan, and saw, sitting on a doorstep, huddled up, poor Rhoda, looking so sick and miserable, it I' 98 NEIGHBORLY LOVEe page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. was impossible not to pity her. When she saw it was Tryphena, she turned away. " What is the matter, Rhoda?" said Try- phena, gently. l' Is your head so bad still?" "Oh, yes ! and I'm so giddy, I can't get along at all; I don't know how I am ever to get home!" "And you'll get worse sitting here. Shall I go and call your father and your mother?" " Father's a-bed with the fever, and mother can't come, for baby's ill, too." " Then let me try to help you. It is a pity all the others are gone the other way ; but I daresay we can manage." " Oh, Tryphena, and you so lame!" " Not to-day," said Tryphena, smiling; "but come, for I am sure you are getting worse, sitting on those cold stones." Rhoda.got up, but her head swam, so that she could see nothing. " Shut your eyes, said Tryphena, ",and try to walk. Here, lean on my shoulder." The poor girl was.only too glad to do so. She was strong, and twice as heavy as her little guide ; but no one who feels sick feels strong for the time. Presently they came to a chemist's shop, and Tryphena asked if they might sit down. The shopman was very civil, and asked what was the matter. Tryphena told him, and asked if he could give Rhoda anything to help her to get home. He said, "Oh, yes," and produced a cordial. Tryphena had sixpence (all she had in the world), and she shyly laid it on the counter. The shopman smiled. He knew her, and would have trusted her. Rhoda felt better after the draught; and they continued their slow, weary progress. When they reached her home, she sunk down, however, on her bed, and quite unable to move. The mother was crying over her baby, and could not move to help Rhoda. " Oh, Tryphie, is it you? Will you undress her, for the love of mercy ? for its the fever she's got, no doubt, and this little blessed one, and mv husband! ' I shall lose them all, all ! " Tryphena did as she was desired, as well as she A GREATER RESTITUTION. 101 ; page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] A GREATER RESTITUTION. 10" 102 NEIGHBOILY LOVE. could, and helped Rhoda into bed, found some vinegar, and tied her handkerchief wet with it, round the poor girl's head, and asked when the doctor would come. "He'll be round presently. He said ,my mas- ter would want him again by noon, and it's that, and long past. There he is! No, it's some one else. Oh, dear! oh, dear!" Rhoda groaned, and asked for some water. Tryphena gave it to her. " Shall I stay," said she, " till the doctor comes ? Can I help you? you seem to have your hands full." " Oh, do - do stay, Tryphie; Rhoda is quite as bad as baby to mind, and there's my husband, too, - oh, dear! oh, dear ! " Tryphena found a bit of paper, and wrote, DEAR MOTHER,- Rhoda is very ill, and her father, and the baby; and her mother begs me to stay a little while, and help them; so do not be uneasy -you know where I am. rRYPHENA. She looked out, and saw one of the school- boys whom she knew. " Jimmie," said she, " will you kindly take that to my mother, Mrs. Aylner? She will be very much obliged to you, and so shall I." "That .1 will, Tryphie," said he, and off he went. Tryphena remained sitting with Rhoda's mother, hearing her complaints, the groans of the poor man, and the cries of the baby. She " tidied up" the room and the hearth, asked what they had eaten, and found that the poor woman had been too much distressed to think about it. Try- phena asked if she might make some tea, or some broth, some toast-and-water for Rhoda, and thus employed herself till the doctor came. She listened carefully, and pit down all he said about Rhoda and the baby. Ie said thie' man had better go to the hospital, and Rhoda, too, if she proved to have the complaint ; but that was not certain. He had the man carried off to the Fever Hospital diretly. They would not take him ir a any other, with an infectious complaint. The poor woman was so worn out, that she threw herself on the bed her husband had just been lifted from, and lay there with her wailing baby. 1 t page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] A GREATER RESTITUTION. 105 Tryphena brought her some broth, and per- suaded her to take it; she then fell asleep, and was asleep when Mr. Randolph came in. He looked very much pleased to see Tryphena's occupation ; she was wetting Rhoda's head with vinegar, and holding the baby on her lap. She told him of the doctor's visit, and the poor man's removal to the hospital. He asked if her mother knew she was there. " Jimmie has taken her a note, sir ; but I am sure she will think it right. Rhoda was so sick she could not come home alone." "Do you like doing this for Rhoda?" "Oh, yes, certainly for Rhoda." "God bless you, and keep you from all ill, my child." Mrs. Aylmer soon came in to see if she could assist. She was a very great help and comfort in illness,. and Tryphena was very grateful, for she did not insist upon her going home. She quite understood her little girl's feeling, and said she would come for her as late as she could. " But, my dear," said she, "this is the evening for writing out the question, you know; have you forgotten that?" No, mother," said she; " but I had rather do something for Rhoda, indeed, dear mother, only don't let Tryphosa forget hers." Her mother kissed. her, and felt, as she walked home, that she had much to be thankful, for in her children. She came again, later, for Tryphena ; but Rhoda's fever was then violent, and the poor little baby was in convulsions, and entirely occupied its mother. Mrs. Aylmer knew much of the necessary treatment, and assisted the poor distracted woman, who, having but these two left out of six children, was in an agony of fear. It was a terrible night, for Rhoda was wild with fever, and the baby's life seemed to be going ; but when the sun rose, the little one was sleeping quietly, iis wearied mother dozing also, and Mrs. Aylmer made Tryphena lie at Rhoda's feet, in order to take some rest, though she said she felt no fatigue. She went home herself at her children's breakfast-hour, to give them their orders for the day, and sent them to school and 104 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 NEIGHBORLY LOVE. A GREATER RESTITUTIO&T. 107 church. Then she returned, to await the doctor's morning visit to Rhoda. He arrived just after. she had come in, and on learning the account of the night, and looking at Rhoda, said she had better follow her father, and he would send for her. " And, Mrs. Aylmer," said he, "give all your children this twice a day," and he gave her a little bottle, "for there is much fever about, I am sorry to say, just now." When they had seen Rhoda carried off, and heard the doctor's opinion that the baby would live, Mrs. Aylmer took Tryphena home. She had almost to carry her; so directly she got home she undressed her, put all the clothes she had had on into lime-water, gave her some of the doctor's drops, and kept her in a dark quiet room all day. Tryphena was of course more tired than ever she had been in her life, but she thought it very hard to spend such a Sunday at home, she said. Her mother thought of a beautiful verse, -- "Meek souls there are, who little deem Their daily course an angel's theme; Or that the cross they take so calm Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's balm." But she only kissed her little girl, and said, simply, "There is a time for all things, Tryphie, and you may certainly pray lying down when you cannot stand." f-' - _ 1' X i, ' } 4 : . __1 i i j 3 c i' 7k pEy. f,1 r' - R $ -: Jl ( S +QY, ' page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] CONCLUSION. _' , F ° { ' -# } } . r e - fi . _3 ji{ ' t fi . . { CONCLUSION. MY story is already almost too long. The prizes were given on Monday. Maggie had the greatest number of good marks. Tryphpsa's was the best answer to the question, for Tryphena's of course was not sent in. She had no prize save the light that shone in her mother's eyes, and in Mr. Randolph's as he said in a low voice, " I was sick and ye visited me." Rhoda did not die, nor her father, nor the baby ; the only thing that perished that fight was the ill feeling that family had towards Tryphena and her mother. It had died under the soft hands that bathed Rhoda's temples and soothed the baby. Maggie succeeded in becoming all in all to her parents. (108) " Martin and Tony grew up fine and sturdy young fellows, doing their duty in their station. Andrew was more than this he became a learned man, the friend of learned men, a great and pious man, the friend of good and pious men. Nesie went to sea and became a mate, but I never heard of his climbing higher than that. And the Tryphies? They grew up, like their mother, gentle, loving, Christian women, the light of their households, the warmth and joy of heart to all that knew them and lived with them, their daily life showing by its gentle shining, whose they were and whom they served. ~. p. 109 page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] V 34 MARGARET LA C C (t ", i[" . Ei It 9 L1WRENCE. page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] MARGARET LAWRENCE. 4r CHAPTER I. "Ye are not your own: ye are bought with a price." SUCH was the text of a sermon preached by the vicar of Old Bridge to his flock one Sunday in summer. If you had been there, you would have seen one of those old churches which have so solemn and soothing an influence on our hearts. It was not a beautiful church, but al spoke of care and reverence, and there were many quaint monuments, telling their tale of those who had worshipped there formerly, and are now waiting for the Resurrection. The sweet, warm air, and the perfume of the new-cut hay, came in at the open door, and the song of birds, and the humming of bees made themselves heard in the pauses of the preacher. But soon the sermon was ended, and the blessing given, and the congregation began to disperse, yet 1in- 8 (113) ,' page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] 114 MARGARET LAWRENCE. 115 gering before they left the churchyard for those kindly greetings which seem never more fitting than when we have joined in offering our prayers and praises to the Father of all. "How are you to-day, Robert? " asked Mrs. Lawrence of an old man who was slowly wending his way towards the little wicket-gate at the right of -the churchyard, leaning with one hand on the shoulder of his young granddaughter, and with the other on a stick. " Better, thank you, ma'an. This warm weather gives me new life," said the old man, and tottered on; but before he and his grand- child reached the little gate, they turned aside to visits a grass-covered grave, with a neat head- stone, telling that Mary, the beloved wife of Robert Smerdon, had departed this life July 20, 1840, aged 60. " I had a longing to come here again, child," said the old man. "All through the spring I thought I never should, till they car- ried me to lay me beside her. It was just such a summer's day as this when we laid her here. Well, God is good, and she is at rest. He never fails His people, and He will not forsake.old Rob- ert. Let us go home now, for my limbs are weary." They went home, Mary supporting her grand- - father to the door of the little cottage, which was only separated from the churchyard by the road and its little garden. ,A sweet little garden it was on a summer's day, with its woodbine covering the cottage porch, and the cabbage roses under the parlor window, and the broad border under the wall, full of Canterbury bells, double rockets and stocks, and many old-fashioned flowers, often dis- carded from grander gardens, yet as full of beauty and fragrance as any that have taken their places. old Robert sat in the arm-chair which Mary had carefully placed in a sunny and sheltered nook. She left him and went to get their simple dinner ready. His eyes seemed to roam from one flower to another in his garden, and then to dwell on the more distant prospect with an air of deep content- ment. By-and..by the girl came back. Come, grandfather, to your dinner; you must want something after your walk. Are you very tired ?" "Better than I thought to be, Mary, dear," MARGARET LAWRENCE. I. t page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] MARGARET LAWRENCE 116' MARGARET LAWRENCE. he said. " No one knows the blessing it is to get out and go to church again till they've been shut up for months like me. God is 'very good to me. To think that He numbers the hairs of our heads, and makes all things turn to good, and yet that' we can fret ourselves and murmur, as if there was none to care for us. Mary, child, you must trust God better than I have done. You will have your troubles, no doubt ; but you must al- ways be sure that you have a Father in Heaven who will give you all that-is good for you." But old Robert is not the only member of the congregation of that village church to whom I wish to introduce my readers. There is another, in whose heart a chord has been touched by part of the sermon with which my story begins, and this is Margaret Lawrence, daughter of the lady whom we heard inquire after Robert's health a few minutes ago. Margaret is young, while Robert is old. Life is 'behind him, and before her. He has little or nothing more to do in the world but to wait "the appointed time till his change come," while she looks forward, as only the young can do, to the life which seems to lie before her, wondering what it will bring, not without fears of the changes which she knows to be our appointed portion, and yet full of hopes, longing to have every faculty of her soul called into exercise. And therefore the words which spoke of rest and trust had most come home to the aged pilgrim; and those which spoke of work to be done, which gave a motive and object for her whole life, found an echo in the heart of the young servant of Christ, who had lately, at her confirmation, taken on herself, by deliberate act, the holy vows spoken for her by others, while she was an. unconscious infant. Margaret had just "finished her education." We use the words is they are commonly used. Yet is not our whole life here, if we do not entirely miss its purpose, an education for eternity? Is not God himself, our Great Teacher, guiding us gradually onwards as we are able to bear? Margaret was still expected to devote some time to the improvement of the acquirements she had gained; and she had, of course, her share of those home duties which fall to the lot of every woman; but her hours were in great measure at I; r 117, page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] 118 MARGARET LAWRENCE. her own disposal, and she began to feel a respon- sibility which she had never known while her whole day was mapped out for her. She longed for a life of action and usefulness. The common daily round seemed to her too small and insignfi- cant. Some engrossing pursuit, which should be to her what his science is to a philosopher, or his art to a painter, was her idea of happiness. And now she began to feel, vaguely and indistinctly, that the service of God ought to satisfy all the cravings of her heart, and to give her an object for the exercise of every energy.- She had read of some of those women whose names must al- ways call forth our love and reverence, -,of Florence Nightingale, and Sister Rosalie, and Mrs. Fry ; and in her dreams of the future she wove for herself a destiny like theirs. The even- ing of that Sunday, Margaret sat and dreamed. The time and place were favorable, for the place was the quiet garden, and the time was the time of' sunset. By-and-by her mother came and, joined her. " What makes you so thoughtful, my child?" she asked. " I was thinking about the sermon this morn- ing, dear mother, and wishing I could lead a use- ful life." "You need not fear, Margaret ; we can all do that." " Yes, mother ; but what I can do is so little it would be all done just as well without me." " My darling child," said her mother, 'let us never think anything little in which we can serve God. Remember the ' cup of cold water.' And besides, if any one ever is to do greater things, the little things must be the preparation. ' le that is faithful in that which is little is faithful, also, in much ; and he that is unfaithful in that which is little is unfaithful, also, in much.' Margaret's youngest sister Lucy now appeared, to summon her and her mother to tea. If we accompany them, we shall have an opportunity of becoming acquainted1 with the other members of the family. Her father is a middle-aged man, with a very benevolent countenance. He is a lawyer, and is obliged to leave home every morn- ing soon after breakfast for his chambers in Exeter, returning late in the. evening. His clil- MARGARET LAWRENCE . 119 page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] MARGARET LAWRENCE, dren see little of him, except in vacation, when the whole family often leave home for a little trip. Mrs. Lawrence is already known to you. She is pale and delicate-looking, and her face, though somewhat worn, has the trace of considerable beauty. Her son Robert - a boy about thirteen -is at her side, helping her to make tea. There are two little girls- Catharine and Lucy - who are nine and ten years old. One of the party is absent -Edward, the eldest son -who is pre- paring to take holy orders, and is now paying a visit to an uncle in the north of England. He is Margaret's special friend and companion, though several years her senior. She watches his success in his studies, and firmly believes that she shall see him a great man. CHAPTER II. I A THE morning sun was shining brightly in at Margaret's eastern window ; at last it has crept on to the white curtain of her bed, and roused her from her slumbers. She begins to wonder what o'clock it is, for the light comes so long before we can be expected to get up in summer ; but soon she hears a sound of life ; it is the mowers sharp- ening their scythes, and so she knows it must be after six o'clock, and gets up. I hope you like to get up early, my dear reader, at least in summer that you know the delicious sweetness of the morning breeze, and the beauty of the early shadows, and of the glistening dewdrops. It was an effort to Margaret, this getting up, she was so much inclined to lie there, considering what she would do through the day, and making (121) :1 120 page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] MARGARET LAWRENCE. many plans for the future, but that sound of the mowers' scythes decided her. "They are working for their master," thought she, "and have not I also a work to do and a Master to serve?" She opened her casement window and looked out; the men were' mowing the meadow down by the river ; it lay half under the shadow of the pollard elms which bounded it on one side; wreaths of blue smoke rose slowly through the calm air from two or three cottages which were almost hidden in the luxuriant foliage; the swallows were skimming over the clear river, just dipping their wings for a moment and then darting -on; it was a lovely morning. Margaret dressed herself, and then knelt down by the open window to say her prayers. She did not forget in her petitions the aspirations which yesterday had deepened in her heart, and, begged that God would show her bow she might best serve Him. After her prayers were said she took her Testament, and reading a few verses, tried as she had been taught to fix her mind on them in meditation for a few minutes. And now, she began to ask herself, what was her work 'for. the day ? The first thing that struck her, was that on Saturday her mother had given her a list for the grocer, begging her to copy it out in time to send to Exeter by her father on Monday morning. And so she began with this; before it was done she heard the clock on the stairs strike half-past seven, and she thought she would go and look after her little sisters, and make sure that they were ready to go to church by eight o'clock. The vicar read prayers every morning at that hour, and the Lawrences, who lived close to the church, were generally part of the congregation. In due course of time the children were ready, and the whole family went together to church. There were a few old people already in their places, and the children of the village school ; many of the parishioners could not come, on account of their different callings, and others perhaps could but would not; in any case the offering of prayer and praise went up daily to Leaven. As Margaret and her parents walked back, the vicar, Mr. Brand, overtook them, and after the usual greetings had been exchanged, begged Mrs. Lawrenceto go and see his sister, in- the course of the day, as he was obliged to be absent from i t t9 122 t MARGARET LAWRENCE page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124' MARGARET LAWRENCE. MARGARET LAWRENCE. 125 home till evening, and she was laid up with a sprained ankle. The children who had run on before, came back with the letters which the post~ man had just brought. "Is not this from Edward, mother?" asked Robert. "When is he coming?" asked the two little ones. " Wait a moment, my children, and let me see; yes, it is from Edward, he says he is coming back on Thursday, and that Uncle William is coming with him to spend a day or two with us." These tidings were received with universal joy, and the whole party went into the house, where breakfast awaited them. Breakfast at Lea Grange was not the long, sociable meal it is in some houses; it was rather a matter of serious business, as Mr. Lawrence was obligedto start almost as soon as it could reasonably be finished, to catch the train at Old" bridge. The children were at present enjoying" their summer holidays, Miss Turner, their governess having gone to .spend. a few weeks at home. k{ 4: }F r t ' d ' a 2 y . F ''Y We may hope that she enjoyed the rest as much as the children did, for it is very certain that she had worked much harder than they had done, to deserve it. When breakfast was over, and the cats and doves and Leo, the great dog, had been fed, and the morning reading gone through, there was a general petition that the afternoon might be spent at the seaside. Sandycove was little more than two miles off, if you took all the short cuts across the fields, which could be done in fine weather. " Can you come too, mother ? " said Robert ; "it is not very far, after all, and you can rest for awhile, in the wood, half-way. It is such a beautiful day for the sea, and the tide will be full at two o'clock." "Do come, dear mother, if it will not do you harm," begged Margaret. Mrs. Lawrence wil- lingly consented to be of the party, and it was decided that they should start soon after an early dinner: as Mr. Lawrence was going to dine in -Exeter, there was no need to hurry back, and they could take the coolest part of the day. " But first," said Mrs. Lawrence, " I must go page: 126 (Illustration) [View Page 126 (Illustration) ] MARGARET LAWRENC: and see poor Miss Brand, who is .laid up. Will you come with me, Margaret? and .let us go sogn. They were soon at the Vicarage, which was but a short way beyond the church. It was a low gray house with gables, overgrown with ivy and creepers. Miss Brand was on a sofa in her pleasant drawing-room, which opened into the garden ; she was busy at work, making some baby. things. '' How glad I am to see you. to-day.! You see I am a prisoner, and my brother is away for the day, so I thought I should have spent it quite alone." " Your brother told me of your accident, dear Miss Brand, but tell me yourself how you feel now," said Mrs. Lawrence. " Better, thank you, as long as I keep still. I am very busy with some things for poor Esther Crosse's baby. Margaret, my dear, do help me; here is a thimble, and you will find everything else in my basket. You see how that little shirt is to be made, don't you?" -S 'ri Y?Q -r 126 page: -127[View Page -127] MARGARET LAWRENCE. Margaret was a ready workwoma the employment offered to her, while went on to say, You know John Crosse fell a leg a couple of months ago, and no getting about again; but I fear m little savings are gone, and Esther c many things ready fbr the baby, so to help her out with these." "Let me take some away and fin you," said Margaret. "You hav much to do." "Thank you, my dear; I shall b of your help, and I know you will b( something for a good cause. Their be done." But there are not many very here, Miss Brand, are there?" said M Not many very poor, but a grea want a little done for them from ti However, I was thinking more of great towns, where the need is so c urgent. I have just had a letter f who is working in London; begging 127 tn, and took Miss Brand Ad broke his w he is just [ost of their ould not get I am going ish them for re always so )e very glad glad todo e-is much to poor people Iargaret. t many who me to time. those in our easeless and rom a friend me to send [±" page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 MARGARET LAWRENCE. her some help, and I must try to begin and work for her." Mrs. Lawrence and Margaret soon bade Miss Brand good-by, and returned home. The weather in the afternoon was all that could be desired; the sky was clear, with only a few fleecy clouds to break its azure expanse, and there was a refreshing breeze. The party started, prepared. to enjoy themselves to the utmost. Their way lay first through one of those shady lanes so well known in Devonshire, a high, ferny bank on each side, and trees meet- ing overhead. Here and there a gate into an adjoining field gave a glimpse of the more distant country. Then there was a bit of heathy com.. mon'to be crossed, and after that, they dived into the refreshing gloom of a wood, and sat down to rest for awhile under an old oak-tree. The sun shining through the foliage threw a checkered shade on the fresh green grass, and lighted up the rugged stems of the oaks, and the smooth bark of the beech. How beautiful this world is! I do not mean only where there are grand mountains, and glorious cascades, and W4 MARGARET LAWRENCE. 129 rock-bound rivers, - but how beautiful. it is everywhere! It seems to me that all these fair sights that God has thrown in our common path, ought to fill our hearts with a deep feeling of the tenderness ;of His loving kindness, and care for His creatures. But our friends were soon rested, and so they proceeded on their way, still onward through the wood, and out into an open lane, which soon led them to a little old-fashioned fishing-hamlet, and then down to the sea. Let us stand a moment before we take the last descent to the beach, and look at the scene. The sea is a beautiful blue ; the beach scen s of almost a snowy white, and the cliffs rising from it are of deep red sandstone, topped with fresh green turf. In the distance, on one side, is a long stretch of irregular cliff, gradually fading away til1 cliffs and sky can no longer be distinguished one from the other. On the other side you have nothing but the waste of waters, now calm and peaceful, with a few fishing-boats near, and some larger craft in the distance. Some boats are drawn up on the shore, and the shermen are spreading out some nets to dry. The tide is go- 9 page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 130 MARGARET LAWRENCE. ing out, and the regular plash of the tiny waves is heard at intervals. ' How glad I am to see the sea again !" said Robert. "The last time I was here was just at the end of the Christmas holidays. How grand the waves were then ! I wish there were a storm like that fnow; but it is all as quiet as a lake." "It is all the better for us, though," said Catharine, "for we can go out on the rocks and look for some sea anemonies ; " and off they went to the low rocks, made more visible by each re- treating wave, and discovered numberless little pools, inhabited by living flowers, and little crabs, and adorned with green and crimson sea- weeds. " Here is such a lovely daisy! " "I have found the most beautiful anemone!' " Do look at this hermit crab !" " Here is a blue-rayed limpet on a great stick of seaweed!" Such were the exclamations first of one and then of another of the group, till at last they were tired of searching, and came to sit on the smooth beach above the range of the tide. MARGARET LAWRENCE. 131 "6I wish we lived quite close to the sea, as near as we are now, so that we could hear the waves all day and all night, don't you Lucy?" said Catharine. " I think I do ; but I don't -know if I should like it in winter. I should be afraid in a great storm." I should like to be in that ship far away ; do you see it, mother?" said Robert. " I mean that great bark, with the sun shrlung so brightly on her sails. Would you like that, mother?" "It would depend partly on where the, ship was going, my dear, and also the people that were with me." 66 But if we were all in it, and papa, and we could sail exactly where we liked, how nice that would be ! I should like to sail far away to the north, and see the icebergs; and you, Mar- garet?" I would sail to the Holy Land, and then on my way back, if I ever came back, i should like to go to Venice." " And I would sail to Ireland, and see mam- i page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] MARGARET LAWRENCE. 133 132 MARGARET LAWRENCE. ma's old home," said. Lucy; "and what would you do, Catharine?" , "I would go to Ireland and to the Holy Land, and then I would sail away to some place that nobody ever saw before." " A desert island, Catharine, like Robinson Crusoe's?" " No, not exactly that. I think a great forest; some place that had never been touched by any- body since God made it. I want to see how it would look. Would not you come, mother?" "Yes, my child, I understand that wish; but the sea itself is just as God made it, when you get out of sight of the land with its houses and towns, and there is nothing but the water and the sky to be seen. I suppose it must be the same as it was after the Creation, when God said everything was very good." " Is that' a ruin on the cliff that runs out a little more into the sea than the others, far away to the left?" asked Robert. "Yes ; it is an old ruined chapel called St. Michael's. I have heard that it was built some hundred years ago, and that the wives of the fish.. ermen and sailors used to go up there on stormy nights, to pray that their husbands might come back safe, and to keep a light burning, that might guide them out at sea. It is a dangerous coast, and there are many families here, who have. ohe of their number resting beneath the waves." " How glad I am that Edward and Robert are not sailors, mother ; are not you? " said Margaret. " Yes, my dear child, we should have many anxious hours if they were; and yet, there is the same watchful care of God over us by sea as by land. If we are His children we are safe." They sat on the seashore till the sinking sun warned them that it was time to be turning their steps homewards; and then they went back through the wood and the dim bowery lane, now fragrant with the rich perfumes of the clematis and the woodbine, and did not reach. their own door till the stars were already coming out in the dark-blue sky. I have told you about one day, and you may imagine how a great many more were spent at page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] MARGARET LAWRENCE. Lea Grange. Sometimes Robert went to join some friends of his own age in a game of cricket, or in long walks, and sometimes Mrs. Lawrence and the girls went to pay a few visits in the neighborhood ; but it was a very quiet life on the whole, with very few great events to fill the pages of a story. Margaret had an unfailing in- terest in the garden ; she loved her flowers, not as some people love them, who are content to walk round their beds and gather a choice bou- quet, and then leave them to themselves, but she loved them in the spirit of a real gardener. There was always something to be done,-sow- ing seeds, planting roots or bulbs, making cut- tings, bedding out, training and pruning, - and then what pleasure to see the reward of her la- bors, to watch the unfolding flowers of some new seedling, to admire some happy combination of rich colors in a border, and again to make plans for the next year, by which still more beautiful results are to be obtained. It is an employment. full of hope, this gardening, and perhaps that is one reason why it takes so strong a hold in many of our hearts. 1' t f F t{ 2 t Y Pp =X # i; ,f, t {,LY app f{ s . ,} 5 n - ': ~M ii $, i w s i *j t+ I Fkf I 4 ! yy I + y^ i k + q f ' Y fi e S r k I 14.. Y Q0.' 4s' .,. $ " . kaca; ' _r f S. i KKA 33y{ k, F. } f CHAPTER 'III. BUT now I have an event.to tell you of, and no small event in the eyes of the family at Lea Grange. It was the arrival of Edward and Uncle William. What preparations were made to receive them ! and how many tines Catharme and Lucy went down to the gate to look out for them, before they could possibly arrive ! At last they did arrive, with Mr. Lawrence, who had met them in Exeter. Edwin had not been at home for some months, and Uncle Til- llam's visits were few and far between, for he was a clergyman, and very seldom left his parish. His visits were always welcome to every miemiber of the family. He had the happy talent of adapting himself to every one, and drawing out the best of every one, and accordingly seldom (135) 134 F ty} 3' ao Ye i : -_,.g . f lfr_ t Iy_ page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 136 MARGARET LAWRENCE. found any one very dull and uninteresting. There was in him,, though he had now passed middle age, a freshness of interest in everything worth caring for, and an unfailing love of learn- ing, a cheerful, happy spirit, which always turned to the bright side of things, while feeling deeply for all the troubles of others, and earnestly fight- ing against the sin and evil of this world. The evening passed in talk such as is heard between those who are near and dear to each other, but seldom meet: talk of old times and future hopes, of sorrows and joys, of the absent who may yet be seen again in this world, and of the absent who have passed beyond its limits, till the usual hour of retiring to rest slipped by unawares. Next morning how many things there were to be shown to the new-comers, -the young pigeons, the seedling carnations, the croquet ground, and the new balls and mallets, Margaret's, drawings, the slippers that Catharine and Lucy were working for papa's birthday, " for a surprise," they said ; but there was some reason to fear that the secret might be divulged before the right moment should. arrive. By-and-by, Uncle William said he must go and call on an old friend in the neighborhood. Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence went with him. Mar- garet took her work, and seated herself in the arbor in the garden, the things for Esther's baby were not quite finished, and she wished to delay no longer about them. Presently her two little sisters came begging her to join them in a game of croquet. She told them she was too busy, and that they must do without her. " But you know," said Catharine, "Robert is going to play with us, and three will not do for the game. You were not too busy to amuse yourself all the morning." Catharine was evidently put out by her dis- appointment; and it is hard to say how the mat- ter would have ended but for Edward's timely arrival. He was easily induced to join the game, and Margaret was left to her reflections. She could not help thinking of Catharine's words; though they had been said in a moment of irrita- tion. It was perfectly true that she had been amusing herself all the morning. Perhaps she had been wrong, perhaps she ought to have done the work first, and then she would have been M S ii i : ; 1{ , y 4' ,. 5t_ r' F. e 4.,d S s. i' 1; v., ae' " , r LL± i- a' 8 : - ;n {,, g. '4 I j# "''4+y MARGARET LAWRENCE. 137 z ': ,z,. ,y v ' i . 4 i 1 a tai +r F% : . ,F' 't_ Y y t 3" a3 4 ii ,' , o' ' ,t. t' °r page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] MARGARET LAWRENCE. ready to join the children's game, and Catharine's temper would not have been tried. She. worked on ; and before her task was quite finished, Ed.. ward stood beside her. " Come and sit here, Edward, till I have done my work, and then let me help you to settle your books." He sat down beside her, and they began to talk. Margaret -drew from him, little by little, some account of his work, and of his hopes for the future. He had distinguished himself in col- lege, and now in a few months the time would come when he might hope to be ordained. "1I could almost envy you," said Margaret; "you have been learning so much, and then you have distinguished yourself; and by-and..by, when you are a clergyman, you will be'able to do so much good." " But the responsibilities are very great," said he, " and I know I am but little fit to take them on me. I do not ,mean in the way of learning only, that is such a small part of it ; but a clergy- man ought to be so holy, and so wise, so like his Master, in fact. Promise me, Margaret, that 138 $ free 9 r J pp-_ 6'- , Y-- {{fyfy,,,, l Y _ ., fe,_ r 'f I, ! '{, S - se ,' 1 t i. jj5 iI J , , i 34M . °i: , r .; F - I ,' ;, t , E y ': A'. _# : (F l , ,s^_ ,a[: F - L ' ! -'!1 - F 'fir gt tCF k + rr F t s : ;1+ 3 , ,u will pray for me every day, that God will give me His special grace to prepare mc." "I will, dear Edward. But indeed, I am sure you will succeed." And then Edward asked her for many partic- xlars of home life. "You know I am delighted to get your letters, and I must say you are all very good correspond- ents. But talking is much fuller and better. How has mother been the last few months?" ' I think she is really a good deal stronger," said Margaret. " She has not had a headache for a long time, and she is able to walk with us much more than she did." 6 I daresay she is very glad that you have done with the schoolroom now, you will be able to do so much for her. By-the-bye, you never told me how you like the change, and what you are going to do with yourself next." "I like it, on the whole, very much. You know I do not want to give up learning, but I am glad to be able to do it in a different Wxay, and I should like very much to do some good to my neighbors. I don't well know how to set about it, though." 139 MARGARET LAWRENCE. page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] 140 MARGARET LAWRENCE, "I thought that was some work for the pear you were doing just now, was it not?" said Ed- ward. "Yes it was; some that Miss Brand gave me. But that is such a little thing; any one can do a bit of work." " Why, Margaret, are you so very ambitious as to want to do something not like anybody else ?" " It is not exactly that. But don't you know that a girl who has never been taught half the things we have can do this kind of work quite as well. Surely a person who is educated ought to be able to do something higher. If I could even teach; but there are enough teachers already for the school here.- I think, Margaret, you need not be dissatis- fled if you can follow Dorcas' line for the present.. Perhaps something else may come in your way by-and-by. I suppose the best plan, if mother approves, would be for you to ask Mr. Brand if' he can give you anything to do. I fancy there must be some poor people who would be glad to hear a little reading now and then. Then there A MARGARET LAWRENCE. 141 are always Catharine and Lucy, you could do a great-deal for them. How is Catharine getting on? " "Since the holidays began, smoothly enough ; but before, there ere continual fusses with Miss Turner over the lessons, and I suppose it will be much the same when she comes back-again." " That is a great pity," said Edward; "there is so much good in Catharine all the while. Do you remember last year, when John Marshall's house was burnt down, how she brought all her little 'store of pocket-money to Mr. Brand for the poor creatures? And it was done so quietly, too, nobody would ever have known it if Mr. Brand had not told mother." " Yes, Catharine would do a generous thing like that, any day ; but she cannot govern her temper." "I suppose it is the most difficult thing any one can attempt," said Edward. "6I mean, of course, if the temper is bad. Lucy's never seems to want much trouble. You could do much for Catharine, Margaret, by trying to shield her from every provocation." page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] 142 - MARGARET LAWRENCE. MARGARET }LAWRENCE. 143 "But would that be good for her? Must she not learn to bear what is trying?" "tNo doubt she must, Margaret. But there will always be enough trials; besides, we are so warned against causing others to offend that I suppose we can hardly be too careful to remove anything we possibly can that may lead another to sm. But your work is done now; shall we come and take it to Miss Brand?" The brother and sister set out on their walk; but as they passed Robert Smerdon's cottage, their progress was arrested by his granddaughter Mary, who told them that the old man was Very weak, and had sent her to beg that Mr. Brand would come and see him. She was hurrying to the Vicarage; and, in the meantime, Edward and Margaret went into the cottage. They found Robert in his easy-chair by the fire, for he was chilly, though the weather was fine- He seemed free from pain, but extremely feeble, and was hardly able to speak 'to them Edward thought a little wine would do him good, and Margaret went home for it. She soon returned, and wheu he had tasted it he revived a little, and thanked '4 them. Edward told him he would stay and see if he wanted anything, till Mary's return, but begged Robert to keep quiet and not tire himself by speaking before Mr. Brand's visit. "Thank you kindly, Master Edward," said the old man. ."6I think I am not long for this world, and I want to be ready when my hour comes. But I am not cowed at death, for I trust in God." Margaret left the cottage and went to wait for her brother in the garden. The words of the old man had struck her : " not cowed at death." She tried to fancy what it would be to )e so near it, as he seemed to be; but it is hard for youth and health to do this. Till we have ourselves stood, as it were, on the brink of that dark river, we cannot form an idea of what it is ; but we can look back and realize, in some degree, how our past lives would strike us on a death-bed. How trivial and unimportant many of our interests and pastimes, and even of our labors here seem, in the intense earnestness of such a light! How we long to have done something worth the doing be- fore our earthly course is over ! We cannot bear 1~ I page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] MARGARET LAWRENCE. the thought of sinking down like a stone cast into the still waters, leaving a trace for a few short mo s, and then hidden and lost, as if it had Ever . And if we think more deeply of our life that the time in which we can do some- ithi or ho has done all for us, in which ca en yes, and show our love by so c what an increased value does i u aa motive is given for every po Mr. Bran( to t arden-gate, and Margaret open r him. He went into the cottage and Edwa came out almost immedi-. ately. It was now t ate for the walk to Miss Brand's and they returned thoughtfully to their home. " Do you think Robert will die very soon?" asked Margaret. " I do not know; he seems very weak, but I do not think there is any disease. It is rather the gradual going out of the lamp. He has reached fourscore years, and at that age, of course one cannot expect him to rally." " Could we do anything for him, I wonder?" " Mary seems very attentive, and he told mc that Mrs. Ward had been with him last night. His daughter, who is in service, will come for a few days to-morrow, and that will probably be enough. But we will go every day and see how he is. We must pray for him. I do not mean that, as far as we can judge, he is unprejaredY-or death; but it is a time when, everyahuman- being must need all the strength and help he c:an have." Uncle William's visit camp to an end very soon, far too soon for thevii*s of his relatives. But though they were sofy to lose him, every one seemed refreshed and strengthened by his iii- fluence. His sister, Mrs. Lawrence, had talked much with him on that subject most engrossing to a mother's heart - the future of her children. Margaret, his god-child, had opened her heart more to him than she could have done to any one save, perhaps, her mother, and was strengthened in her aspirations for a life of usefulness, while at the same time she was led to look at the little every-day duties lying in her path, which we are 10 144 145 MARGARET LAWRENCE e page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] 146 MARGARET LAWRENCE. so apt to neglect, while we dream of doing good on a larger scale. Robert seemed to have been impressed in some mysterious manner with a desire to improve himself, and begged Margaret to help him with his French during the holidays. Catharine was heard to say that if Uncle William were always here, she would never get into a bad temper; while Lucy managed for several. days to avoid teazing her sister. It is a blessed thing, this influence, which some people exercise for good on all with whom they come into contact. -What does it consist in? Is it not, if we could analyze it, in charity, and a single eye to the glory of God? A few more days passed on. Margaret was returning with her father from spending the day with some friends a few miles off, and they went to Robert Smerdon's cottage to ask for news of the old man. " He is gone, sir," said his daughter, who had come to nurse him. "This afternoon he passed away quite quietly. Mr. Brand was here yester- day, and gave him the Holy Communion. He spoke very little after that; but he bid us put our trust in God, and he repeated several times, ' Ye are bought with a price.' He took great coinfort in that thought, for he said God would be sure to keep what He had bought so dear. Will you come in, and see him, sir? lHe was very grateful for your kindness, and all the family's." Mr. Lawrence turned to his daughter, and asked her, in a low voice, if she could come in. She did not like to refuse. Margaret had never looked on death ; and it was not without some shrinking that she said she would go, for the first sight of death must always be very awful. The woman opened the door of the little bed-chamber behind the kitchen, and Margaret followed her father into the room. The old man's face was perfectly placid. The worn and suffering look that it had had for some time was gone, and there was an expression of beauty and dignity which death sometimes gives. He looked younger than before, and there was a smile on the lips. Still Margaret felt the awful presence of death, and there was a shrinking at her heart. She could not take her eyes off the face of the corpse while they stood in the room. But it was a kind of relief to her feelings when her father turned away, MARGARET LAWRENCE Q 147 c' , . r :° ;: f r page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] MARGARET LAWRENCE. and, after a few sympathizing words to the mourners, left the cottage. They walked on in silence till they were opposite the church, and their eyes fell on the western heaven, lighted up with a glorious crimson sunset. "Look, Margaret," said her father. ''"It seems an emblem of our old friend's peaceful de- parture. Rest and light at the last. I had known him ever since we came to live here, and I do not think I ever saw one who gave me the idea of setting God before him in everything more than he did. I hope the sight of death did not distress you, my child. It is well to be able to bear it." "I'm glad I saw him, papa. But it was strange, and more awful than I could have thought." "Yes, Margaret, it must be. so--it must always be awful. But here there is peace and hope. I think the sight of death enables one the better to understand the mercy of our Blessed Lord, who 'humbled Himself even unto death' for us. When we think of His Sacred Body having lain cold and lifeless ljke that, we can in some better degree realize the love which brought Him so low." CHAPTER IV. TmI went on quietly. Margaret spent some hours ever morning in study and drawing, she worked for the poor, helped her mother in many little household duties, walked with her father or brothers, and helped the children in their games and work. Her purpose of usefulness was con- tinually before her, and she began to find, as per- haps we generally may do, work very near her hand, little things so small that if her attention had not been especially called to them, she would have passed them unheeded, but little things that had to be done, that were for the good of her neighbour, and for the glory of God. She was learning - it is by these little things we do learn - charity and watchfulness. One day was much like another ; we often say so, and we get tired (149) 4 4 {tai A n r z r 148 I I " 0 page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] MARGARET LAWRENCE. of this uniformity, yet each is really new, unlike all others, bringing fresh graces, fresh opportune. ties, fresh teachings, it may be fresh trials, leav- ing us, not as it found us, but changed, going forwards or backwards in our course. We may not ourselves always know which, but the fact is there. Margaret was learning -learning amongst other things that she had a great work to do in her own heart ; that it was for the glory of God that she should be holy, and that ,her most unceasing and earnest efforts were needed to attain holiness, - to approach it in any 'degree. She had faults to contend with, and as the work went on, she saw more and more how much there was still to do, before she could even reach her own imperfect standard. The holidays were drawing tQ a close, and Msiss Turner waS to come back sOQn, when one day Mrs: Lawrence received a letterI from her, saying that her mother had been taken suddenly ill in ' very 'dangerous manner, and that it was quite impossible for her 'to leave her, as the only daughter at home was a mere child. The doc-. tors thought, the 4lness likely o be's q tedious, that Miss Turner said she had no choice but to give up her situation at once, and devote herself to the care of her mother. She hoped the incon- venience to Mrs. Lawrence would not be great. This letter was read one morning after breakf ast. Robert was back at school, the two little girls had gone to feed their pets, but Margaret and Ed-. ward had lingered, looking for a book on the shelves 'which stood in the dininr-room. Mrs. Lawrence read the letter aloud. "I am very sorry for Miss Turner's trouble," she said ; " but perhaps, as the break has come, it may be a good opportunity for making a change." We must look out for another governess," said Mr. Lawrence. I did not mean that, dear Henry; 1 thought of teaching' the children myself. I have often Wished, to do it, and now that I am so much stronger than I was, it will be a good time to begin." "I am afraid of your doing too much," said Mr. Lawrence; "but Margaret could help you for qv hile, an4 then you will see how the plan works." w 150 151 MARGARET LAWRENCE. page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 152 MARGARET LAWRENCE. "Do let me help, mother," said Margaret; " I think I could teach them some things." After some further consultation, the plans were settled. Margaret and her mother divided the labors of the schoolroom between them; occa. sional help was to be given by masters at Ex- eter. Mrs. Lawrence had many reasons for being pleased to make a change. The expense of a governess was a serious matter, now that one son was at school, and the other in college, and though Miss Turner was in many ways most excellent, Mrs. Lawrence thought that Catha- rine's temper. was sometimes unnecessarily tried, and that the very fact of a fresh start might be very beneficial to her. Here was a work for Margaret, though not exactly the one she would have* chosen for herself; her visions of useful- ness were chiefly amongst the poor and ignorant; however, she was learning to take the workgiven her. Catharine and Lucy themselves looked forward to the new system with some satisfaction; they thought it would- be very nice to have theix mother to teach them, and they were rather curious to see how Margaret would acquit herself in her new capacity ; mixed with these feelings there was in Lucy's mind a sorrow at losing Miss Turner, and in Catharine's a kind of remorse, for she felt she had often given her a great deal of needless trouble by her insubordination and tem- per. For the first few days all went on very smoothly. Mrs. Lawrence was in the schoolroom as much as possible. The children were intel- ligent and quick in learning, and the novelty was rather pleasiiig to both parties ; but by and by Catharine's temper began to show itself, and Lucy was from time to time idle and careless ; she was, however, one of those happy children who are generally on good terms with their nurses and teachers; there was something so engaging about her, .that her faults were lightly passed over, and when things came to theworst, a flood of tears, and many promises of amendment would settle tle whole matter. Margaret had, what is a com- mon fault with earnest natures, a great strictness and severity in her ideas ; to do her justice, it must be said that' she was as strict in her judg- MARGARET LAWRENCE 9 s ;y r 1 page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 MARGARET ,LAWRENCE. ment of self, as in that of others; but there was a want of tenderness and forbearance, of care to avoid offence, an insisting on trifles, that often caused strife; she had not yet learnt that wise and Christian maxim, "pas trop gouverner.'' She had no love of ruling, and so far might have been fitted for the post, but her strictness about trifles, her want of a ready power of putting herself in the place of others, often caused disputes and outbreaks of temper on Catharine's part. She felt that teaching was by no means the easy work that she had imagined; that the mere knowledge of certain subjects was a very small portion of the qualifications of a good teacher; and f4rom time to time she was much out of heart about it. One day everything seemed to have gone wrong; Catharine had evidently, as the saying goes, got up with her wrong foot foremost ;" it was perhaps -partly the weather, for a walk to Cole- man's wood had been planned, and since dawn, the rain had poured in ceaseless torrents. It was much wanted for the country, but that was very poor consolation to the little girls ; they came to their work late, then Lucy's French dictation was I S t 1 t t p i i-w !i C 3 F t k full of the, faults that Margaret had been correct- ing for a week before. Catharine's sums were in a state of hopeless perplexity ; the slate was brought up to Margaret over and over again, with a different result each time, and each time wrong. Catharine got fairly stupefied over them, though they were really quite within her powers ; at last Margaret said to her, " Catharine, this is very wrong ; you are not trying, for those sums are not any harder than what you did a week ago, quite rightly." "That is not true, Margaret; I never had such hard sums in my life ; even Miss Turner never asked me to do anything so difieult. I don't think I shall try any more if they are not right this time." "Then you will do very wrong, Catharine, and mother will be much displeased. She is busy now, writing letters to India, and if you cared to save her trouble, you would do your lessons well, and let her find them finished when she comes back." "I care for mother as much and more than you do, Margaret, and it is all your fault for giving me sums I can't do." rr e55 MARGARET LAWRENCE. page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 MARGARET LAWRENCE. MARGARET LAWRENCE. 157 At this moment Margaret's mother came into the room, and on asking how the lessons were getting on, heard a complaint of Catharine. She took the slate and looked at the sums, and then said, ." I fear, Catharine, you have been thinking of other things, for jou have done sums of this kind quite rightly before. We must put them by for to-morrow, and then I hope to see them well done, but for to-day you have no mark for arithmetic. And now it is late, and I am sure Margaret must be tired of work, so you and Lucy may go and play battledore in the lobby." The little girls put away their books, and left the room. Margaret sat down to write an en- closure for the Indian letter to her cousin, but the writing would not get on that morning, and Margaret sat with the pen in her hand, and with a troubled expression on her face. Her mother soon noticed. it, and said, "Dear Margaret, I am afraid you have under- taken a more difficult task than you expected." "It is not that I mind, mother. I would gladly work twice as hard, but I do not succeed. Catharine's temper is getting as troublesome as ever, and though Lucy is very pleasant generally, I am afraid she is learning very little. I cannot help you as I thought I could." "Do not be out of heart, Margaret, perhaps more good is done than you see ; we often have to wait a long time for results, and teaching is to most people not a thing that comes of itself, but one that must be learned. Perhaps you expect too much from the little ones. You take great pains I am sure, but I think sometimes you do not pass over little things, and that this irritates Catharine's temper. It is a great art in dealing with children to know when to overlook faults. Of course I do not now speak of really serious faults, but of the many little things which are almost certain, in a child who is carefully brought up, to cure themselves, and of others which are of so much lessnportance than temper. With Catharine particularly, I would try never to find fault if possibly it could be avoided, and to praise whenever it can be done. She has, with many good points, a trying temper, and if yielding to it once becomes a fixed habit, it will give untold trouble to herself and others. Lucy is very page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] 158 MARGARE~T IJAWRENCn. different, I do not mean that she is really better than Catharine, but her faults are at present of a kind less unpleasant to her neighbours. She wants however to learn to think, she is too apt to be carried away by the feeling of the moment, and there is, I fear, a tendency to vanity, which will be a snare to her, and another thing that grieves me is, her love of teasing Catharine; we must try to check this, and make her feel that she is really breaking the golden rule when she gives way to it. They are both pretty quick in learning, which is a great comfort; but you know, Margaret, this is only an experiment we are making, and if we find it is too hard work for you, we must make some other plan." " No, dear mother, you must let me go on, I will do my best, and I hope by degrees, I shall manage better." Margaret was helped by her mother's words, and made many good resolutions of forbearance and gentleness, in short, of doing as she would be done by, a rule which is often put aside in our dealings with those over whom we are placed in any manner. By and by Catharine came back MARGARET LAWRENCE. 159 and whispered to her that she was sorry she had been so long about her sums, " but really," she added, "I was thinking so much about our dis- appointment in not going to the wood, that I could not remember what to carry, and then I got so puzzled." Margaret kissed her, and all was right again. The teaching went on, and on the whole it prospered. There were some days when things went wrong, and probably there were faults on both sides, but by degrees Catharine's outbreaks of temper became far less frequent, and Margaret exercised a very good influence over both her sis- ters. Mr. Brand had asked her to go sometimes and see a few of the poor of his parish, to whom he thought her visits might be a comfort. Margaret began to feel that she was of some use in the world; she was learning more than she thought, both fromher sisters and from the poor ; and truly we might always learn from the circumstances with which we are surrounded, for has not God ordered them all for us, with a view to our end- less welfare? :I EIi ii i+ page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] 160 MARGARET LAWRENCE.' But Margaret had "come 'out," and you will no doubt suppose that this step made some differ- ence in her life; her parents lived very quietly, but for that very reason any little change from the daily routine was - an event in Margaret's life. Soon after the holidays were over, an invitation to dinner, for Mr. and Mrs. Land.Miss Lawrence, came from Mr. and Mrs. Taylor of Cliff Manor. Cliff Manor was an old house which had. long been in possession of the family of Mrs. Taylor,, but had been for some years deserted. Mr. and Mrs. Taylor had coeic to live there when, on the death of her father some months before, the place came into her hands; hitherto on account of their deep mourning, they had mixed very little in the society of the neighborhood, and much interest was now caused by their appearance in the little world of Oldbridge. The invitation was ac- cepted; it was Margaret's first dinner-party, and she looked forward to it with some satisfaction. Catharine and Lucy thought her lot a most envi- able one ; and counted the years that must pass before they could hope for a similar one. The expected evening came. Margaret dressed MARGARET LAWRENCE. 1 61 herself in white, with blue ribbons. I have nev- er told you what she was like, and now it would seem to be time to say something about the mat. ter. 1 have heard it remarked that every one is good-looking at some time or other, and 1 hope it may be true. Margaret was good-looking now : she was fair, with a quantity of light brown hair, blue eyes, and a pleasant and thoughtful countenance. You would not have remarked her as beautiful, but her face was one that would have grown upon you, as you came to know her better. The little girls took the only part left for them in the proceedings of the evening, that of waiting- women at the toilets of their mother and sister. Lucy's tasteful fingers provided for her mother a bouquet of China-asters, and for Margaret one of late roses, and in due time the preparations were completed. Margaret came to her another's room, to be assured that all was right on so un- portant an occasion, and presently Mr. Lawrence's voice was heard announcing that the fly was at the door, and that it was time to start. The western sun was gilding the tops of the trees, and casting long shadows on the ground 11 V{ c page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] MARGARET LAWRENCE. A as they set out. It was a drive of about two miles to Cliff Manor, which stood a little way back from the sea, on the summit of one of the red sand-stone cliffs which were seen from Sandy- cove. It was a long, low, gray building, old and. strong ; it had weathered many a storm, and more than once had served as a refuge for ship- wrecked mariners ; in wild weather, the sound of the breakers on the rocky shore was very clearly heard there, and when a strong southwesterlY gale was blowing, the front windows were often dimmed with the salt spray. Some people would have called it a dreary place, and yet it had a beauty and charm of its own. For many genera- tions the Martins had lived in it, and loved it, till some ;five-and-twenty years ago, Mrs.. Taylor's, brother, George Martin, then a promising youth, had been drowned almost in sight of the win- dows. He had been out in a small sailing-boat, when a sudden squall came on ; the bboat capsized, and all on board perished. His poor mother had never been able, from that time, to bear the sight of the sea, and the family went to live in another part of England; both the poor boy's parents t Y. 3 ^ k . R t ' F; { yy! Fj Y i were now dead, and Mrs. Taylor was his eldest sister. Margaret had often heard this sad story, and the place had a special kind of interest in her eyes. The old gray walls and deep-mullioned windows carried her back to the past; and what a charm there is in anything that carries us back? Would it be the same if any magic power could make us see things as they will be in two or three hundred years to come? I think not, for there is an instinct in the heart that craves for the 4 old times," the "4 old paths." The company assembled in a large hail, hung round with many old family pictures, of ladies in hoops, gentlemen in court dresses, and children with their hair cut straight across the forehead. Margaret was studying them, wondering if by any change of dress they could be made like the people around her, when she became aware that her host was speaking to her, and introducing to her his cousin, Mr. Charles Martin, who was to take her in to dinner. The party was not large ; a few guests were staying in the house, and the others were near neighbors. At dinner, Mar- garet found herself placed between Mr. Martin , t . 162 163 MARGARET LAWRENCE e 3 x z ' page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] 164 MARGARET ]LAWRENCE.M and her old friend, Mr. IBrand. The former had been a great traveller, and she was soon engrossed in his stories of foreign parts ; by and by her attention was' caught by the conversation passing on her other side between Mr. Brand and the lady beyond him; she was a stranger to Mar- garet, and they were speaking of books. - The lady seemed to be given to studies, and spoke, with a clearness and beauty of language not often to be met with. She had evidently a great interest also in the neighborhood, and asked Mr.' Brand many questions as to the old history of the country. The dinner passed. pleasantly, and by and by the ladies withdrew to a drawing-room beyond the hall. Later in the evening there was some good music. Margaret was not herself a musician, but had a power of enjoying it, and there was something in the whole scene, the old tapestry hangings, the pictures, the rare china, the numerous objects of virtue disposed about the room, the exotic flowers with their rich perfume, the profusion of lights and the bright dresses of the ladies, that seemed to carry her into another world. Margaret was falling into a kind of K reverie, when Miss Gilbert, one of the guests staying at Cliff Manor, came to talk to her. "Have you been in London lately, Miss Law- rence ?" ''"Were you at the Plymouth regatta?" "Are you going to the archery meeting at Bit- ton?" "Have you. a croquet club in this neighborhood?" "Don't you find it dreadfully dull in the winter?" were amongst the questions asked her by this lady, to which Margaret was obliged to reply in the negative. She began to feel bewildered, and moreover she had (shall we confess it?) an uncomfortable feeling in her own mind that with every fresh " no " she sank a little in the-esteem of her interrogator. She- almost felt ashamed of herself for being so behindhand; was there really a world beyond, just beyond her, from which she was shut out? The lady, insen- sible to Margaret's feelings, rattled on, told her of all the changes she should make at Cliff Manor if it were in her power, how she would have the wainscoat removed because it was so gloomy and old-fashioned, how she would turn the old tennis-court into a croquet ground, and cut down the yew hedge in the garden becirse it T iii 5,f ° . -qir ,: . ,ici } E3^"1 - -k ' rY5 ; _ F +f [ ' r i 3 # , i . yi Y(s [ r r a 1 MARGARET LAWRENCE. 1()5 i 4 Y _thF- 'I , ±j Y it i 'S f i = . .° fi r' { r .f' {${ Vii! s , ,; f Y _ page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] 166 MARGARET LAWRENCE. looked so melancholy. Margaret felt inwardly rejoiced that the projector of all these schemes had it not in her power to do more than talk of them, and was relieved when Mr. Martin, her companion at dinner, came to show her his port- folio of foreign photographs. What a treat they were to her, those views taken beneath clear, bright skies, of scenes so full of history and of beauty. Rome, Venice, Egypt, the Holy Land, all passed before her eyes,, and the intelligent remarks and explanations of the collector gave a reality to them all. At last it was time for the party to break up; one by one the carriages drove away, through the lanes lighted by glow-, worms, beneath the starry slky " How did' you like your first dinner-party, Margaret?" asked her mother, as they passed out into the road. " Oh, very" much, dear mother, everything was so beautiful, so like a picture. I should like to know all that has happened in that old house, and all the histories of' those portraits in the hall." "More than any one can tell us Margaret, but the story would be a strange one if it could be known. I have heard that in the time of the Crusades, there was a lady living there, waiting her husband's return from the Holy Land, but he was taken prisoner and detained a long time, and at last worn out with waiting, his wife died, and 1e returned home just in time to bury her in the little church you may have seen from the window of the Hall." "There was a curious story, too," said Mr. Lawrence, " of a Spanish lady of rank, who was wrecked here, and having been saved by the master of Cliff Manor, eventually married his son ; they say she gave a beautiful organ to the church as a thank-offering for her deliverance. I believe the tomb of Antonia is still to be seen in the church, but I have not been there since Mrs. Taylor's father and mother left the country. They were a great loss, and I hope the present possessors will in some degree fill their place." Next morning Margaret was expected to give a full, true, and particular account of the party to her little sisters. Lucy wished to know what everybody had on, and Catharine required an 4. MARGARET LAWRENCE* 167 page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] 168 MARGARET LAWREjINCE. equally detailed account of the pictures and tapes-- tries. At last they were satisfied, and concluded with a hope that Margaret would go to a great many parties till they were old enough to go themselves, because it was so amusing to hear about them all. But Margadet's gayeties were few and far between. The intercourse with Cliff Manor was kept up pretty frequently, and by degrees she found great pleasure in the society of the lady who had been talking to Mr. Brand at dinner. This lady was a great deal older than Margaret; she was a relative of Mr. Taylor's, and was paying a long visit to him and his wife; she was a person who had known much sorrow and loneliness, on her way through life, and Mar- garet's earnestness and simplicity were refreshing to her, though she was far Margaret's superior in acquirements of various kinds. Margaret, in her turn, admired and loved her, and was often helped by her in her studies and plans for Mrs. Dormer had a ready sympathy with all the inter- ests and pursuits of others. Occasionally Mr. and Mrs.- Lawrence went to spend a day at Exeter, where they had many friends, and once, 169 MARGARET LAWRENCE. in the course of the summer, Margaret went, for a few days, to some cousins in the neighborhood of Torquay; perhaps the even tenor of her ordinary life made her enjoy these recreations all the more, while they in their turn sent her back to her common round of duties with fresh energy. t [. a. y F .} k i fi ,' E 3 , t , t ,. j R- t , 9 V a ,. Y: page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] CHAPTER V.t ONE morning the post brought a foreign letter for Mrs. Lawrence while the fhm iy were assem- bled at the breakfast-table. She opened it, and glanced hastily at the contents,, and then said, ",Here's a letter from Jane at last! Let me- give you your second cup of tea Hed h ',- Henry, and then I will read it aloud," Jrane was Mr. Law- rence's younger sister, and was a great favoritee with all her family. We will listen with them to the letter which Mrs. Lawrence is about to read. "CAUTERETS, HAUTES PYRNES, July 24. "My DEAREST ISABEL : ~7 I hope you have had the letter which I wrote just before leaving Pau, otherwise I fear you may be uneasy about us. I have been waiting to write again from day to day, in the hopes of telling you something decided of our plans, but I can say nothing as yet. This wet day, however, is so fit (170) 14f MARGARET LAWRENCE. for letter-writing, that I will lose no more time in making a beginning. In the first place, I am thankful to say I can give yo~u a very good account of our dear Amy. She bore the journey here without over-fatigue, and is now working away at her course of water-drinking and baths, which I trust is doing her a great deal of good. And now I must take up the thread of our history from my last letter. We were almost the last of the British in leaving Pau. Day after day we had seen our friends and acquaintances de- part. The streets became deserted, and the carpets were all taken out to the Haute Plante to be cleaned. Carpet- cleaning and dust encroached little by little on the part we had deemed devoted to walkers. We waited, however, in the hope of making sure of warm weather at Cauterets, and also of having a little rain to lay the dust for Our journey there. At last, on the afternoon of the 28th of June, we set off for Argelez. The drive was pleasant enough. The first few miles we knew well, along the straight road, with its line of poplars on each side. There is something dispiriting and almost hopeless in these roads - so straight and uniform. They remind me of the old pictures of the Path to Paradise ; but, alas ! the goal seems very (listant. However, by and by we turned aside, and our course lay through pretty villages, with farm-houses standing in large courts, entered by gates like our lich-gates in England, and every here and there a delicious shady grove of chestnuts, with a little stream, where women were washing their clothes. The chestnuts now in flower are very beautiful; the flower is so much larger than at home. At- a distance 171 page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] 172 MARGARET LAWRENCE. it gives a bright color in. the landscape. It was growing dusk when we reached-Lourdes, and the people at the hotel where we stopped to bait the horses seemed anxious to per- suade us that a storm was coming, and that we could not possibly go on farther that night. However, we determined to proceed, and in course of time reached Argelez by the light of the glowworms. It was very pleasant to rest in the clean and comfortable Hotel de France. After I had been, I thought, a long time asleep, I was roused while it was still quite dark, by the tinkling of sheep-bells, and the' wild song of some shepherds, who were taking their flocks up to the mountains for pasture. There was something very sweet and strange in that song breaking in on the silence of the night. In the morning we wandered about the pretty old town, admiring the carved wooden balconies of many of the houses, and the lovely views (as the mist of the mountains cleared off). We found some acquaintances established in a chateau at one end of Argelez, a curious old chateau where the Black Prince is said to have lodged. It stands in a charming garden,gay with the scarlet blossom of the pomegranate, and the view from the terrace is worth going a long way to see. We set off again about one o'clock, and reached Cauterets in less than two hours, driv- ing into the mist, which so continually hangs on these high mountains. We soonfound a clean and comfortable little apartment, and are much pleased with it and with our land- lady. But how we shivered the first two days. We had a chaufferette for our feet, and ultimately lighted a fire one evening. Cauterets is, you know, very high up in the MARGARET LAWRENCE. 1 7 mountains. The little town lies in a sort of nest, in a narrow gorge. There are still great patches of snow on some of the mountains, which do not seem very distant from us. What it mist.be in winter, I can hardly fancy. Very few of the inhabitants, however, remain here. At last the weather has grown bright and warm, and we are able to enjoy ourselves out of doors. We begin the (lay by going up to the Railliere, a spring of sulphur water, which is considered very good, especially for chest complaints. Amy drinks and bathes here. We go up in an omnibus, in which human nature is to be seen in some of its least lovely forms. Every one tries to get next the door to get a little air. Then there are people who won't have their windows opened, and others who won't have them shut. In short, 'every one for himself,' is the motto. I mean to take a donkey instead, in self-defence, as I have to go and drink at a spring a little higher than the Railliere. After a late breakfast and a rest we go and sit in the park, till it is time for Amy to go again to her spring for a second draught of this wonderful water. There are a great many people here, and we are fortunate in having some friends. We often amuse ourselves by watching the picturesque figures of some of the visitors. There are some monks, -Bene- dictines, I believe, all clothed in white ; some Spaniards, with their gay red sashes and handkerchiefs round their heads instead of hats; some sisters of charity, with their white caps, who must enjoy a breath of country air and a little rest after their hard labors ; and amongst them all a number of gay ladies in the latest Paris fashions, and the most , page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] 174 MARGARET LAWRENCE. brilliant colors. And now I must end for to-day, as the weather has cleared, and it is time to go out." " July 26th. -Good news for you, my dear brother and sisters. We have just seen the doctor, and he thinks Amy is equal to the journey, and will be all the better for going home, so we propose (D. V.) to set out to-morrow for Tarbes, and then to make our way northwards by degrees. I cannot yet say when we may reach England; but I will write again on our way, and I trust it may not be more than a week or ten days before we nieet. If it still suits you, we will go to you, as you have so often urged us to do as soon as possible after landing; but you had better write to me in Paris, where we mean to stay a day. I cannot tell you how I rejoice in the thoughts of seeing you all again, and of being at home once more. I have had such a longing for you all, and for the very trees, and flowers, and birds. But I must end, nd make preparations for our departure. With our united love to you all, "Ever, my dear Isabel's affectionate sister, JANEE LAWRENCE." The joy of all the party at hearing this news was very great, and preparations were at once begun for the reception of the expected guests. Amy was Mr. Lawrence's youngest sister. She had married very young, and gone out to, India with her husband, but had been obliged from bad health to return to England, and then to spend the MARGARET LAWRENCE. 175 winter abroad. Margaret had not seen her since she was quite a child ; but 4' Aunt Jane " was frequently at Lea Grange, and was much loved by all its inmates. At last a letter came announc- ing their arrival in England, and saying that they hoped to be at Lea Grange on the following even- ing. How often did Margaret's mother go round the rooms prepared for the guests, to see if any- thin more could be thought of for their comfort, especially for that of the invalid. An easy couch was placed in the window, that she might rest herself, and look out at the same time on the gar- den and the green meadows beyond. A vase of the choicest flowers stood on the table, and every- thing looked bright and fresh.. It was growing late. when the travellers arrived ; but Amy de- clared she was quite able to come down to tea, and would not hear of staying in her room br the rest of the evening. Margaret remembered her in a dim way, as a beautiful young lady when she was quite a child, and at first she seemed to her, and indeed to Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, very little changed. There was the same bright but delicate colour, the beautiful dark hair and bril- , t F 1 + l E _ ; i 9 I, 2 7"v A n 9' ' 3 1 .3 }.' ;' fl g r , , k }}jjj( I f. i ' }, 1 ' r a; ¢ page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] 176. MARGARET LAWRENCE. liant eyes, the same ready wit, and a charm of manner that seldom failed ito attract at first sight. The travellers had come home laden with treas- ures, and even that first evening some of them were displayed. There were sketches of the grand mountains where they had lately sojourned, and of the picturesque inhabitants, of old chateaus and churches, many of them connected with some thrilling legend or curious history. There Were seeds and roots of rare plants, which might perhaps be induced to flower under other skies. There were Spanish handkerchiefs and knives, and many specimens of the delicate Pyrenean knitting in the shape of shawls, and scarfs, and slippers. Every one had some present, selected with a view to his or her particular needs or tastes, and every one was happy. All anxiety on Amy's account was much allayed by her good looks and high s irits. The plan was that the sisters should make Lea Grange their home, or at least their head- quarters for the rest of the summer, till the return of Amy's husband, Mr. Franklyn, from India, when she was to join him, and Jane to go back to her home in the north of England. It was a bright , ,ti. z 4 , . Fr _ ag ?- r warm summer. There were many of those de- licious days when existence itself is a pleasure. Often the whole party used to sit under the shade of an old larch, the ladies working while Mr. Lawrence read to them. But this state of things was too good to last. Chilly days came, with rain and wind, depressing the invalid's spirits, and keeping her a prisoner in the house, while even those who were well were glad to gather round the fire in the evenings. Jarne was obliged to go away for a few days; and, to make matters worse, there were no letters from India by one mail.\ All these untoward events, put together, had an unfavorable effect on poor Amy's health and spirits. She became restless and irritable, longing for change, complaining bitterly of the climate, while she refused to take the precautions necessary in her state of health. Margaret had from the first devoted herself a good deal to her aunt, and had been pleased to feel that she was of some use to her. She use to bring her up her breakfast in the morning, when- ever she did not feel equal to joining the circle downstairs ; to walk with her up and down the 12 MARGARET LAWRENCE. 177 i page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] MARGARET LAWRENCE. sheltered garden walk when the weather did not permit her to go further;, to read aloud to her whenever she was inclined, and to, perform the many other little offices in which affection finds such pleasure. But now all was changed. The breakfast did not please Amy, and the book wea- ried her. Every thing that Margaret did seemed a failure. Poor Margaret was much grieved,- she loved her aunt dearly. She would gladly have toiled day and night to make her happier and better, but it seemed hopeless work. She blamed herself, and yet she could not find how to amend. She had seen people ill before, but it had always been something of a more definite kind; and she did not understand (how could she?) the wear- ness of long-continued weakness, and the keen sensitiveness of every nerve-all'the suffering that can hardly be described, and, if it were de- scribed, hardly understood, except by such as have learned to sympathize by undergoing the same. Perhaps Amy was unreasonable sometimes. If people are not a little selfish and exigent when they by been long laid aside from ordinary life, it mut no from -a very special grace. Perhaps 178 F x°rt, dN" f'a r t t*j' C {r F' Y., +1 ;Elll tr 1 f I+ t f1- V, 3. -u VV L° TI 5- i. F* t r: s," she did not think of many little things which might have saved those who loved her some of their anxiety and pain ; but it was hard for her. She had been always so -tenderly cherished, first at her own home, and then by her husband, that she had learned to look on such care as a sort of natural right. While Jane was away she became very poorly, and was obliged to stay in bed for some days. Margaret and her mother shared the nursing, and sat up alternately for the few nights that the invalid wished to have some one with her. It was not necessary, but she had a nervous dread of being left alone. What an anxious night it was to Margaret the first that she sat up ! IIcr aunt was continually asking for something, and as often dissatisfied when it was given. At last she fell asleep, and Margaret sat in the easy chair, hardly venturing to move, for fear she should rouse her. She had a book beside her, but she was afraid to turn its pages, so she could only sit and think. It was the morning of her birthday, - a time when we are naturally led to look back and to look forward. She looked 179 MARGARET LAWRENCE page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] MARGARET LAWRENCE. back, and she felt as if the year just gone had made her a great deal older. She felt out of heart; perhaps. it was partly from weariness. She looked back at her high aspirations, and then at her failures. She did not know how much she was learning from her very failures, Her, eye fell on the Testament which was open on the table, and she -read the words: " WhosQever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily, I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward." They brought comfort to her heart- She might not be able 'to do great things, but at least she could do that. How wonderful to think that our Lord would reward it! CHAPTER VI. CONCLUSION. WE cannot follow Margaret through all her life. For some time it went on uniformly. There were happy meetings with dear ones, and, above all, with her beloved brother Edward. There was the solemn day when he was ordained, and Margaret heard him take on him the holy vows of devotion to the special service of Christ, to which he had been called, and joined her prayers to his, that he might keep them perfectly. There was the daily work with her -sisters, and their gradual progress not only in learning, but in the more important affair of correcting failings and acquiring Christian virtues. Margaret be- came more and more their counsellor and friend, and to her mother a companion and assistant in all the cares and duties which often pressed heavily (181) 180 1i ' , a' page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 182 MARGARET LAWRENCE. on her delicate' health. To her father and her younger brother, too, she was all that a daughter and sister could be, while. the poor and afflicted in the neighbourhood were continually receiving some help, or at least sympathy from her. She had learned to be satisfied with little things, and to listen for every call to serve her Lord in His poor, or.His little ones, and learned, too, to serve Him by trying to make her own heart a temple for Him. What a work we have to do there, if we only looked within !S At last the means and the call to a wider sphere of usefulness seemed to come. Edward was ap, pointed to a parish in one of.our great imianfactur- ing cities, and Margaret inherited from an old relation a sum of money. She spends most of her time in that town, working, under her broth- er's direction, amongst the poor and ignorant. There is much to sadden the heart,. The very life in a great smoky town is a trial, and not a small one to one who had the' intense pleasure that Margaret had in every country sight and sound; there is often much to discourage, little result apparently from great endeavours ; but she goes on, working for her Lord, seeking contin- ually to learn more and more how to work best, refreshed continually by the services of his Church, and sometimes cheered by seeing that her labours have been a blessing to some poor soul. She goes back to her old home from time to time, and gladdens the hearts of her parents. The fim- ily circle is still unbroken by the hand of Death. Catharine is married, and living iii Scotland. Lucy has a husband and a home very iear her parents. Robert is in Australia. Aunt, Jane lives with her friends at Lea Grange. Amy has recovered, and is in India with her hiusbaiid and children. Uncle William has fallen asleep, after a long life of usefulness, and his memory is fresh in the hearts of all his nieces and nephews, especially in that of Margaret, who feels that she owes much to his counsels and encouragements, and more, it may be, to his prayers. Mr. Brand is still at Oldbridge, where he has now seen a generation grow up, and many of them pass away. His sister is amongst the number who have been laid to rest in the quiet churchyard. It is sooth- ing to Margaret to come and kneel, when she is at MARGARET LAWRENCE. 1.83 page: 184-185 (Advertisement) [View Page 184-185 (Advertisement) ] AI 184 4 MARGARET LAWRENCE.u home, at the altar where she first received the Bread of Life, and to think - as she marks the changes made by the hand of Time in those she loves - to think that she and they alike are "bought with a price," and that not a hair of their head can fall without their Father's care- NEW PUBLICATIONS. Egypt* occupied the geographical centre of the ancient world. It was fertile and attractive. Its inhabitants were polished, cultivated, and warlike. Its great cities were cen- tres of wealth and civilization, and from the most distant countries came scholars and travellers to learn wisdom under Egyptian masters and study the arts, sciences and govern- mental policy of the country. While surrounding nations were sunk in primitive barbarism Egypt shone as the patron of arts and acquirenients. With a natural thirst for con- quest she introduced a system of military tactics which made her armies almost invincible. Her wisdom was a proverb among the surrounding nations. "If a philoso- pher," says Wilkinson, " sought knowledge, Egypt was the school; if a prince required a physician it was to Egypt thai he applied: if any material point perplexed the decision of Kings or councils, to Egypt it was referred, and the arms of a Pharaoh were the hope and frequently the protection, even at a late period, of a less powerful ally. It would'"surprise many readers to know how much in customs, social and religious, has come down to us from this ancient people. Placing the ring on the bride's finger at marriage is an in- stance. The Egyptian gold pieces were in the form of rings, and the husband placed one on the finger of his wife as an emblem of the fact that he entrusted her henceforth with all his property. The celebration of Twelfth Day and Cand- lemas are Egyptian festivals under different names. The Catholic priest shaves his head because the Egyptian priests did the same ages before; the English clergyman reads the liturgy in a linen dress because linen was the dress of the Egyptians, and more than two thousand years before the bishop of the Church of Rome pretended to hold the keys of heaven and hell there was a priest in Egypt whose title was the Appointed Keeper of the Two Doors of Heaven. It is not strange that the story of this people and country should -be so fascinating. There is an element of the mys- teriouk in it which attracts even the reader who does not care for historical reading in general. In the preparation of her work Mrs. Clement has not only had the advantage of extensive reading upon the subject, but of personal travel and knowledge. She has skilfully condensed the vast amount of material at her command, and presents to the reading public a volume which needs only to be examined to become a standard. Egypt. By Mrs. Clara Erskine Clement. Lothrop's Library of Enter- aining History. .Boston: D. Lothrop & Co. Price,$z.So. S d + 1 _ f "+ 4 r +S T s page: 186 (Advertisement) -187 (Advertisement) [View Page 186 (Advertisement) -187 (Advertisement) ] NEW".PUBLICATIONs-. FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS AND How THEY GREW. By Margaret Sidney. Ill. Boston: D. Lothrop & Co. Price $1.50. Of all the books for juvenile readers which crowd the counters of the dealers this season, not one possesses so many of those peculiar qualities which go to make up a per- feet story as this charming work. It tells the story of a happy family, the members of which, from the mother to the youngest child, are bound together ini a common bond of love. Although poor, and obliged to plan and scrimp and pinch to live from day to day, they make the little brown house which holds them a genuine paradise. To be sure the younger ones grumble occasionally at having nothing but potatoes and bread six days in the week, but that can hardly be regarded as a defect either of character or disposi- tion. Some of the home-scenes in which these little Pep- pers are the actors are capitally described, and make the reader long to take part in them. The description of the baking of the birthday cake by the children during the absence of the mother ; the celebration of the first Christ. mas, and the experiences of the family with the measles ai'e portions of the book which will be thoroughly enjoyed. A. good deal of ingenuity is displayed by the author in bring.. Ing the little Peppers out of their poverty and giving them a start in life. The whole change is made to turn on the freak of the youngest of the cluster, the three-year old Phronsie, who insisted on sending a gingerbread boy to a rich old man who was spending the summer at the village hotel. The old gentleman after laughing himself sick at the ridiculous character of the present, called to see her, and is so taken with the whole family that he insists upon carrying the eldest girl home with him to be educated. How she went, and what she did, and how the rest of the family finally followed her, with the rather unlooked-for discovery of relationship at the close, make up the substance of a dozen or more interesting chapters. It ought, for the lesson it teaches, to be put into .the hands of every boy and girl in the country. It is very fully and finely illustrated and bound in elegant form, and it will find prominent place among the higher class of iuvenile presentation books the coming holiday season. NEW PUBLICATIONS. CnIs FROM THE WHITE HoUSE.-12 mo. 486 pp. $1.50 What the press says of it: In this handsome volume of five hundred pages have been brought together some of the most important utterances of our twenty presidents, carefully selected from speeches and addresses; public documents and private correspondence, zaid touching upon a large variety of subjects.- Golden Rule, Boston. Most of the extracts are dated and accompanied by brief explanations of the circumstances under which they were written, and the volume, therefore, if judiciously read, will give a clearer idea of the character of the men than can be gathered elsewhere by reading a small library through.- New York Graphic. The selections are made with judgment and taste, and represent not only the political status of the listingiuished writers, but also their social and domestic characteristics. The book is interesting in itself, and specially valuable as a convenient book of reference for students of American 'history. Its mechanical presentation is all that can be asked.--Providence Journal. Each chapter is prefaced by a brief synoposis of the life and services of its subject, and most of the extracts are dated, with brief explanations of the circumstances under which they were written. The work, in fact, 'is a handbook. It is convenient for reference of American history. It is printed in clear, large type, is tastefully and strongly bound, and is supplemented by N very full index,- Woman's Jour- nal, Boston. The book is thoroughly good ; none better could be placed in the hands of young persons. By the light of these they can see the reflection of the character of the grand men who have been called to rule over the Nation during its existence. No 'other nation ever had such a succsssion of rulers, where so few have proved failures., Inter Ocea., Chicago. = ,a r ' r. . - page: 188 (Advertisement) -189 (Advertisement) [View Page 188 (Advertisement) -189 (Advertisement) ] NEW PUBLICATIONS- THE LIFE, TRAVELS AND LITERARY CAREER OF BAY- ARD TAYLOR. By Russell H. Conwell. Boston: D. Loth- rop & Co. Price $1.50. The author of this work says truly that "the direct and unavoidable appeal of a noble life, which closed with honor and deserved renown, is far more patent and permanent in the culture and reformation of the world than all other forms of mental and moral quicken- ing." Bayard Taylor is conspicuous among the many in our country who have risen from humble conditions by per- sonal, honorable effort, to high places, not only for his suc- cess, but for the quality of that success. Although not the greatest of American poets, he was one of the truest. His harp never rang false; he never praised things evil or lent his pen to a bad cause. He was-alover of humanity and of truth. Although in one sense a man of the world, he never lost the pure instincts of his childhood, and though lie had the common faults of humanity they weighed lightly when compared with his virtues. Col. Conwell has told the story of his life, his struggles and his final success with loving care, and has supplemented it with an account of his death and the'wide-spread sorrow it occasioned. He gives a report of the great memorial meeting held at Tremont Temple, and quotes freely and largely from the expressions of condolence and aitection made by those present and received from those of the dead poet's friends who were unable to be present. The volume is issued in handsome form and contains a por- trait of lr. Taylor. THE Ln1-E FOLKS' READER. Illustrated. Boston : D. Lothrop & Co. Price $1.00. No one who has not seen it can realize the beauty of this little quarto, or the care with which its contnts have been prepared for young readers. It is intended for the use of little beginners in the art of reading, and all possible means have been taken to make it as attractive as possible. The stories are such as will inter- est young children, and are profusely illustrated by the best American draughtsmen. As much pains and expense have been bestowed upon it as upon some of the costly holiday volumes. It has a beautiful prize cover designed by George F. Barnes. EXCELLENT BOOKS. Six MONTHS AT MRs. PRIOR's. By Emily Adams. Illus- trated. Boston: D. Lothrop & Co. 1.25. "In this fresh little story, which is addressed especially to young girls, the author tries to impress the lesson that the disagreable and annoying duties of life may be made pleasant by accepting them. as inevitable, and asking help from above. Mrs. Prior is the widow of a clergyman, and has been left with five little ones to support. She discharges her servant, and divides the lighter duties of the household between herself and the two eldest of her children, Minnie and Helen. Unaccustomed to any thing but study and play, the girls find it very hard to have their old time appointments for enjoyment circumscribed, and complain bitterly at first. The book gives a history of their experience, and shows how the work that was so irksome at first became in the end a source of pleasure and means of healthful discipline. " Six Months at Mrs. Prior's" is a sweet story of womanly tact combined with christian trust. A widow, with scanty means, makes a home happy for a group of children, restless, wayward and aspiring, like many America-i children of our day. The mother's love holds them, her thrift cares for them, her firmness restrains, and her christ ian words and life win them to noble aims and living. The influence of the christian household is widely felt, and the quiet transform- ing leaven works in man'y homes. We can't have too many books of this kind in the family or Sunday -school." Miss PRICILLA IIINTER, by Pansy, opens a new view for that charming writer, but one eminently popular at the present time. It deals with the payment of a church debt, and shows how an humble woman, with a Christian charac- ter which gave power to her words, raised the money to pay off a debt which had long been a hindrance to church growth and to Christian benevolence. Why she did it, and bow she did it, is told in Pansy's best fashion: her encounters with crabbed folks, and stingy folks, and folks determined not t give to the church debt, are highly amusing, as well as her devices to get sOinething from everybody. page: 190 (Advertisement) -191 (Advertisement) [View Page 190 (Advertisement) -191 (Advertisement) ] BOOKS FOR CLERGYMEN. The list of D. Lothrop & Co's more important books is especially rich in works prepared to meet the. wants of clergymen, Sunday-school superintendents and teachers. Among them are collections of sermons by eminent preach- ers, full of thought, and abounding in practical suggestions; essays upon doctrinal points; discussions of various methods of preaching and teaching; church history and biography; books of scriptural reference and exegesis, and collections of poetry of a devotional character. They are invaluable as working tools for carrying on the practical work of the church. Some of thorn have been before the public for years and have gained a high and secure place in the esti-. mation of the clergy and teachers alike; others, not less im-- portant or helpful in character, are new, and result from later needs in the church and Sunday-school. How to Conduct Prayer Meetings, by Rev. Lewis O- Thompson, comes prominently under this list, a volume which has attained a wide popularity. Dr. Thompson's theory of what a prayer-meeting should be is based upon the fact that it is, in the main, a gathering of professing Chris- tians for conference and edification, and not a revival ser- vice for the conversion of the impenitent. The inquiry meeting has taken the place of the former revival prayer- meetings to a great extent, and has been found far more efficacious in producing results. A brief introduction is furnished by the Rev. J. H. Vincent, D. D., in which the work is warmly commended to the notice of all Ch ristian workers, for its sound, practical sense, and deep religious purpose. Nor will Dr. Vincent be alone in his estimate of its worth. It should be read by every pastor, by every class leader, by every church member. It will serve to elear away many false impressions, inspire fresh ardor and en- thusiasm among luke-warm church goers, and will be an efficient aid in the -promotion of Christian feeling and Christian work. 3a NEW PUBLICATIONS. THE YOUNG FoLKs' BIBLE HISTORY. By Charlotte M. Yonge. Boston: D. Lothrop & Co. Price $1,50. The pres4 ent volume is not only important in itself, but it is an addi- tional proof of the wonderful versatility of the author. The same hand that so successfully set before young readers the stories of the growth and development of the different countries of Europe, here puts the grand old Bible story into a form which the youngest readers can easily compre- hend. The language is simple and the facts are told in modern style; one great stumbling-block to the understand- ing being thus removed. Beginning with the account of the creation, succeeding chapters carry along the Scriptural rec- ord to the time of the prophets, and from their day down to the appearance of the Saviour upon the earth. The life and teachings of Jesus are especially dwelt upon. The volume is profusely illustrated with drawings by English artists. We cannot too cordially commend the plan of this work, nor the excellent manner in which it is carried out. It will be found not only valuable for home teaching, but for use in the in- fant classes of Sunday-schools. The New York Tribune in a notice of Amanda B. Harris's "How We Went Birds'-nesting " says: "It is written with charming simplicity of style, and its ornithology is taken directly from nature and not from books, There is some- thing of the spirit of adventure in the book, and as the youthful reader of dime novels is filled with a desire to go out West and hunt Indians, so the boys and girls who read this little volume will be prompted to visit the haunts of the birds and will have their powers of observation directed and sharpened." : page: 192 (Advertisement) [View Page 192 (Advertisement) ] NEW PUBLICATIONS. YOUNG FOLKS' HISTORY OF .AMRICA. Edited by Ieze- kiah Butterworth. Boston: D. Lothrop & Co. Price $1.50. In form and general appearance this is an exceedingly attract- ive volume. The paper is good, the type clear, and the illus- trations with which its pages are crowded are well chosen and finely engraved. Mr. Butterworth has selected for the basis of his work, McKenzie's "History of the United States," which was published in England several years ago. The text has been thoroughly revised, changes made where necessary, fresh matter introduced and new chapters added, the remodelled work being admirably adapted for use in schools or for home reading. It sketches succinctly and yet clearly the gradual development of the country from the time of the landing of Columbus down to the present; brings into relief the principal occurrences and incidents iii our national history ; explains the policy of the republic, and gives brief biographies of the statesmen and soldiers who have rendered especial services to the country. The narrative is brought down to the present moment, and in- cludes an account of the inauguration of Garfield, with sketches of the members of his cabinet. An appendix con- tains a list of the Presidents and Vice Presidents of the United States, with the dates of their qualifications; statis- tics showing the population and area of the states and terri- tories, a list of the cities and towns of the United States hav- ing a population of ten thousand and upwards, according to the census of 1880, and a chronological table of events. There is, besides, an exhaustive index. The work should find a place in every home library. WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. By George MacDonald. Illustrated. Boston: D. Lothrop & Co. Price $1.75. This charming story, by one of the foremost English writers of the time, which has appeared in the form of monthly sup- plements to WIDE AWAKE, will be brought out early this fall in complete book form uniform in style with A Sea Board Parish, and Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood. It is a picture of Scotch life and character, such as none but Mr. MacDonald can paint; full of life and movement, enlivened with bursts of humor, shaded by touches of pathos, and showing keen powers of analysis in working out the charac- ters of the principal actors in the story. The book was set from the author's own manuscript, and appears here simul- taneously with the English edition.
