The prize essay ; and The mitherless bairn
page: (TitlePage) [View Page (TitlePage) ]TERZE ES AY, A "t 'I II Ii BA 114 -3: & AIV t ' - ° : 'h _ "fi .. . .... page: 0[View Page 0] THE PRIZE. ESSAY. BY ROSWYTIIA. I.AHAPTER FIRST. lessons take up all my tim10, 80 to bring th'is abut "Honor and shame from no condition riso, I must steal fcom sleep as well as p!tisu re. Act well your part, there all the honor lies" "Consume the midnight oil, eh l well that ain't fI'lic. to my taste. Now look here, Sumner, I suppose Come Sumner, now for a, day of pleasure- I may have spent two hours on my prize essay, come, old boy, we are not going to leot you ona and I will wager anything you can it eildt it, 11ry this time; we have laid out for such a day of a yumay. I'd be nehanied to toil so over gunning and aren't to be done out of such a cap- petty thing like that," ad he spnrned tie pe- tAl follow as you are. Do you hear me, Dick . cilled paper with ls hand. " What I do of his Sumner, or must I shout a little louder to recall . . n. , ,,kmnd must spring from my brauin ia ihmg of life you from dreamland ?7 end from dreamlr and ". and I defy you or any One else who hasn't genius, And the speaker, a wild 'good enough looking to compete Successfully with one whbo luml." youth, brought down his hand upon the shoulder T e sue boreyath oervolio ha. of his fellow with a violence that could not fail p. .o . to annihilate for the moment, all dreamy thoughts xvould have chafed upon any ambitous nnd as it did upon young Suutmer's. Th slater w n1t or reflections, had Dick Sumner been given to . . . at all sanguine of recemoiig the prize tfo he ht such. With a pleasant smile he answered, essay, but as ait udent hie conddered h1s b(.,t "Yes, yes, Ihear you, Putnam, as well as feel effort worthy of rs'spret. you-but you see what Iam doing, don't you f' Trying for the prize, boy! it is all nonsense " Well, Putnam, y my le more giled a for you to do that, you have not been here long the rest of us, but for that reason 1 dot kno enough, besides I haven't lost a prize in compel. why we should despise onr humble powxe ii. i sition for two years, and do you think I would have heard all about the field heing bin yiele yield it to you, who have not been in the school to you, and that there was no use in my trx ig more than six months." for even a hearing-that none bult flie jio lg " You would have to yield it, was it awarded would ever know of the result of my hard lab to me by thejuldges, wouldn't you Putnam ?" but in the face of it all. 1 tmo boni,i tomak "Was it !-of course-but it won't be, I have trial; if they should nit consider it worthy of genius ; all acknowledge it here, and most know thought, I shall be no worse oilh thanI Il 1 hairi'! better than to waste their time in striving for what itteapted it-ioodand I am positive meintwl 1a h I am sure to win." must do us good, and niw that on kniw how I Well," said Sumner, his face flushing with view the matter, you weot try fo diunde me pride, "if no'one tries but yourself, you must of from my purpose, I (resume." course be sure of win-3ing-for this once I will " Oh! no, it isn't the slightest cemonslrence to be your competitor, maybe not a successful one, me-I know if prizes had to be labored for so but no matter for that, if I do my best I shall be severely by me they would be left to some One satisfied with myself, and I'm bound to do my else; it was from ciinsideration to you that I best." spoke-you are rather new I ore, and if one ann " And work a hAoliday, do you say, Sumner ?" judge from your apperIaraice, not altogether hf r "Yes, and more than that! I am compelled to dened to failures. lut I'm detaining th1e) IS labor for everything I accomplish, and my usual So you have decided to forego this splendid tior' i page: 2-3[View Page 2-3] 2 THE PRIZE ESSAY. TILE PRIZE ESSAY. Well, good-bye, may the muses attend you, and- yes, I might as well wish you success !" and with this Gary Putnam dashed away to join his com- panions,with all of whom he was much ofafavorite This youth was now in his eighteenth year, and through all his life he had seemed Fortune's pet child. The son of a wealthy city Judge, in his infancy and boyhood he had basked in the sunshine of a delightful home, and the object of a doting mother and sister's love;and his father's pride, scarcely a wished for pleasure had been de- nied him. Possessing fine mental powers by nature, each day of his, life had served to foster within his heart a self-superiority, and consequently a depreciation of almost every one he might come in contact with. Very early he learned to hold all mental, as well as physical labor, in contempt. Why should he not? all praised and petted him- teachers held him up as an example, and -friends called him a child of genius. Since he, without an half hour's labor, would far excel those who had toiled for long hours to accomplish the same thing-could win praises and prizes till they had no value. Where was the necessity of his doing more ? Happily he possessed a good share of heart-kindness-a great deal of good nature and tact-so was not more a favorite at home than in the country academy, where he was placed for a thorough preparation for college. Before the first six months came to an end, nearly every one, teachers not excepted, paid court to this young man's genius-perchance a small share of the attention which was heaped upon him might have been owing to his father's wealth. Be.that as it may, his stay in this country school had been very delightful to him-the two years had been years of triumph, which would have filled almost any young head with pride. Surely it was not strange that he smiled half derisively at the idea of the less fortunate, and, as he believed, less gifted Richard Sumner entering the lists against him in composition-the study of all others in which he took pride in success. And now one glance at young Sumner's past and present. Like his school-fellow, he was an only son, the object of the love and pride of his parents and two younger sisters. But his father, a tolerable thrifty farmer, had scraped together his little all by dint of hard labor, and when his son first ex. pressed adesire for a better education than could be procured at their district school-which, after he was ten years of age, he could attend for but three months in the year, he having become far too useful to be spared from the farm, save du- ring the depth of winter-old Mr. Sumner thought the boy a little out of his mind. It was, however, talked over again and again by the two, some- times Mrs. Sumner and her two daughters, Mary and Janet, being present. Whenever they were, the fond girls, though tooyoungto speak with dis- cretion-had their little word in favor of their brother's plans, and although Mrs. Sumner was too exemplary a wife to take a position against her husband, yet she could not help smiling upon her children with pride, so willing as they were to sacrifice to each other. These young sisters proposing the yielding of some promised pleasure that their brother should be gratified, and he as firmly refusing to, accept such a sacrifice from them. The end was, the father yielded to the reasonings of his son, although he would persist in pronouncing it all folly for a farmer's boy to have a better education than could be acquired in their own little district school house. One year Richard should spend in the academy, situated about a dozen miles from his home-but this could not be an unbroken year. The first of November-it would be his nineteenth birthday, in prospect such a happy one-he was to com- mence, to remain, save the week of holidays, six months without interruption. Then he must come home to help his father through with the farm work until the following November, when he should re-enter school to complete his year. And that home-was it not a busy one ! Never did mother's and sisters' fingers work more in- dustriously or more willingly to prepare a darling son and brother for his first going away from that dear fireside ; and all their niceness and'industry were necessary to make their Richard's home- spun clothing passable among the more -highly favored sons and daughters with whom he was to mingle. He was a fine youth, and when Mrs. Sumner and the girls saw him ready to take his departure, in the simplicity of their loving hearts they wondered if he would not be the pride of the academy, as he was of their home. The " good-byes' were happy, smiling ones, for economy required that the boy should board him- self, so he would come home every week to re- new his stock of provisions ; and every Saturday afternoon it would be so delightful to have him come as a visitor-better than having him all the time, the girls said to their mother, in whose lov- ing eyes the tears would glisten. Even the noble hearted old father caught something of their en- thusiasm, and rubbed his horny hands with a good relish at the thought of the splendid times they would have every Saturday night listening to all Dick would have to tell them, and in their turn relating all the haps and mishaps connected with kitchen and barn yard. This young man's entry into what must of course be so new to him, was attended by many trials. Diffident to a painful degree-for many days he shrank and trembled at the very sound of his own voice. There were a few, as there ever are in such a country seminary, who made a jest of his embarrassment, yet nearly all had for him a kind werd, and very soon he gained courage to show what he really was, and before a month passed he found a footing among schoolfellows and teachers not at all despicable. His educa- tion, though home gained, had not been neglected, and by his untiring industry this farmer boy kept his ?lace nobly with those who had spent months where he had days in the school. And the gay, dashing Gary Putnam, who thought Dick Sum- ner one of the finest fellows he had ever seen, was filled with delight at his unequalled success, though he did shrug his shoulders in a half com- miserating way at such untiring labor. Sumner's first six months had come very near to its close-it had been a delightful time, and the last three weeks, which were spent in re- viewing everything in preparation for the exhibi- tion which was to terminate the winter and spring term, gave this youth little time for pleas- ure or sleep, so anxious was he for the result, and so determined that his parents and sisters, who were to be there, should be made happy by. seeing him hold a fair position among the stu- dents. He belonged to the first rhetoric class, in which the Professor took great pride. To the member who should write the best essay there was to be given a prize, yet to make a trial for it was not compulsory, but rested with the choice of the pupils. Gary Putnam prided himself more upon his position in this class than in any other, and so successful had he been in winning the prize each term, it had frightened nearly all his fellows from the field as competitors ; but Richard Sumner resolved that this time he should have a determined rival, if not a success- ful one, yet crowded as he found every moment, sometimes it had seemed almost impossible to de- vote one hour to what should have had aleast a whole day. A fortnight before the close of the term, when at home to make his weekly visit, he was telling his sister Mary-who was now fifteen-of his fear that he should have no time to spend in this little strife. Sister-like she was confident it but required her darling brother's best effort to make sure of the victory, for had he not already re- ceived the highest praise-and deservedly too- for the beautiful things he had written. That his friend, young Putnam, whose praises he was nev- er tired of sounding, could do well she was ready to admit, but not better than her brother, and her proposal that they should all forego the pleasure of their visit for two weeks to come, was seized upon by Richard with great eagerness. "After that we'll have you every day for six months, brother Dick, so we shall -none of us mind it so very much-poor little Janet will take on the worst, for you have no idea how she misses you; all the week she counts the days to Saturday, then as as soon as that day, which is a v ary bright day to all of us, comes, she counts the hours till your time of arriving ; but don't yield to the little rogue, for we shall be so proud to hear your name called out on that night. I am sure we shall be well paid for not seeing you all these two weeks." And so it was decided, not, however, without some opposition from the younger sister, as well as the father, that Saturday of the two following weeks should be spent by this ambitious youth in making himself ready, for what, to all of them, was a very great event. By nearly all the students Saturday was passed as a holyday, and when young Putnam had heard that his friend, sumner, had not gone home, as was his custom, lie determined to secure him as one of a party he was getting up for a day in the woods. But as has been seen, Dick Sumner had something more important on hand, and his young friend was not altogether satisfied at discovering the same. He was very partial to him, but no, he could not feel willing to yield the pamhn to him in this department. "If he had chosen to rival me in anything elfn," soliloquised Putnam, as he went out, "I would mot mind it-I wouldn't try very hard, for I like his spirit, but in this 1 must keep imy place " but lie had no thought of the wound lie had given that friend's spirit by the tone of superiority he had assumed. Habit had taught him to consider this his right, and nearly all acknowledged it so, by countenancing what, in another one, they would have set down to impertinence. Sumner and Putnam were the same good friends as ever after this slight difference, anil may be the former would have felt a small sitisfe- tion, could he have known his confident rival had taken another reading of his own essay - making some changes and amendments. At length the examination, which was to last two days, commenced, and as usual, progressed finely. This was not only an academy for young men, but for young ladies as well, and in that examina- tion there was manifest the spirit and vigor which is found inl no inistitutioni devoted to F t E c s d 5= i t l a R f i" u E ,S ,,YY @ .S k4 t 3 I I )' i page: 4-5[View Page 4-5] THE PRIZE ESSAY. THE PRIZE ESSAY. either sex exclusively. Not until the last even- ing were to come the reading and speaking, the evening of the closing exhibition, and by all this was looked forward to with great anxiety, for not until then would they know who was counted first in any of the classes, nor who was successful in the prize essay-and never had Gary Putnam felt as much excitement in such matter as he did now. As to Richard Sumner, everything was new and exciting, to everything he gave a share-of thought and anxiety, and not after his essay had gone out of his hands, until on this last evening, as he sat in his place among his fellows, and occasionally caught a glimpse of one or more of the eager fond faces of his own family, did he feel any peculiar heart-throbbings for the coming declaration as to who was the winner. They would feel it so much if he had failed in this-yet he had scarcely a hope of any- thing else. The kind-Sumner almost fancied congratulatory-smile of the preceptress, who, with the professor, and one other teacher, were the judges in all the matters-thepeculiar smile of this lady-like matronly woman, as she passed him to take her place among the teachers, made the young man's heart bound with hope ; "She would not have smiled in that way upon me was I the loser in what I have striven for with all may strength, she is so kind;"lhe said this mentally,but a moment after, the thought " she is accustomed to such things, and could have no idea how I, a fool ish boy, would interpret a kindly glance-no, I wont flatter myself;" and it would have been well for him, had he prevailed upon his ex- pectant heart to yield up all his hopes, for a moment after, the reader coming upon the stage, the prize essay was announced, and the first word consigned all his cherished hopes to the grave.'It was very hard to endure, yet the young marn was far toy proud to allow those around him to see his disappointment, and bravely he returned a congratulatory smile for the triumphant one his friend Putnam threw upon him. Richard Sum- ner held his teachers in too high a respect to think of anything like injustice, yet he knew his partial dear ones could not see this in the same light he could, and try as he would, he could not gain cour- age to glance at those sadly disappointed faces. He knew their expectations had been very high, and he feared his sister Mary would consider his success in everything else as nothing, that he had failed in this. While these thoughts were flitting through his mind, he was listening to the reading of his rival's production, And before it was half done, he was more than satisfied that the choiceI had been made with justice-it was a brilliant composition, displaying much genius, and he felt no jealousy when Gary Putnam was:announced the recipient of the prize. " But," the Professor went on to say, " this is not the only; rival essay which deserves a hear- ing-there is another scarcely inferior-not in- ferior in excellency-but the writer has failed to round his sentences as perfectly as in that just read: as this is a thing to be acquired by prac- tice'only, it could hardly be pronounced a fault; yet it must have its consideration, and it has turn- ed the scales in favor of Mr. Patnam, although one of the three, whose difficult task it was to decide, still persists in holding to the rejected, but most praiseworthy essay as the one deserving the prize. All shall hear it," he said, and taking his seat, the reader came forward, and commenced in a clear tone-yes, he was not mistaken-these were his own carefully studied reflections. Richard's disappointment had not been half as difficult to endure as was this joy; for a few mo- nients ho heard nothing save the hum of the read- er's voice, saw nothing but that radiant face- his sister Mary's face. His parents and little Janet might still be in doubt, they had not lost all of their expression of disappointment, though now there was mingled with it much of hope, but his eldest sister, extacy beamed from every feature. That of itself would have rewarded the fond brother for nights of toil and many days of pleas- ure sacrificed to study. In the midst of his be- wilderment he heard his own name called out, and immediately followed such a clapping of hands and stamping of feet as quite recalled his wandering senses. When order was partially restored the Profes- sor called upon Gary Putnam to come forward and receive his well earned prize; but before the words had escaped his lips there arose such a tu- mult among the audience-such a renewed clap. ping of hands and calling for Richard Sumner ; in a moment the students caught the enthusiasm, and " Dick Sumner, Dick Sumner, too," was echoed by a hundred voices, and the good, warm- hearted Professor finding there was but one way of quelling the tumult, left the stage, and a mo- ment after returned followed by the rival friends, Sumner and Putnam,arm in arm. Their appear- ance called for renewed cheers, and when order was once more restored, with a brief preamble the good Professor made a presentation of the prize-a beautifully bound volume ofShakspeare- to the triumphant Putnam. He feared another interruption before he should bethrough, so made all possible haste ; but every voice was silent, no enthusiastic hands were raised to make the old hall ring again, no impatient feet stamped out the was speaking the earnest delighted gaze of Suin- boisterous delight of the lookers-on-disappoint- ner among the crowd made the good Judge turn ment was marked upon every face, and many a his eyes in the sine direction. pair of lips were ready to murmur "unjust." But "[rhey are my parents and sisters," was the the tide of dissatisfaction was for the moment brief explanation of the soi and brother, as he held back by the coming forward of a fine, sub- sprang away from his friends, and a nionieut after stantial-looking old man, and "Judge Fullerton" the schoolfellows of the young man, as well as was passed from mouth to mouth. With a bow the old Judge were delighted with the reception to the Professor, he begged a moment's indul- the fond parents and sisters gave their hiiy gene, and then turning to young Sumner, he Richard; and all the young men agreed with the said: - older one that it could not be the smallest of )ick My son, I congratulate you-not only upon Sumner's pleasures to be smiled upon so proudly, the love and admiration which is shown forth so lovingly, by the sisters who had witnessed his for you here to-night-but upon your success in triumphs. producing an essay of such originality and Old Mr. Sumner had cherished sine fears lost depth, as many an honored head, frosted with Dick would lose the spirit for work upon their old years, would be proud of claiming as its own.- farm, interested as he had become in his books, In saying this I take nothing from your friend but the day which followed his returA to his Mr. Putnam, nor in presenting you with this home, convinced the father his boy was not a volume--it -is a gift from your teacher, Mrs. whit the less handy in repairing fences which Moulton, and the fac simile of your -successful the March and April winds had thrown down rival's prize-would I have any one imagine that for having passed six months in the "'cademny I consider injustice has been done. I only say and all through their Spring's plowing, planting, you have striven nobly, and if you have not come sowing and hoeing, Riciard held a moore thani out best you are scarcely behind the victor. May even hand with'the hirl man, which delighted his all your efforts in life be crowned with success fond old father even more than had his" 'cademny equal to this. I can wish you nothing better than smartness," as ho called his son's success inl this my son." ) school. It had seemed that every breath had been The summer with haying and harvesting, sum- hushed, so profound had been the silence during mer fallowing and the like, flew swiftly by, then this hearty speech, but the moment the Judge i came the fall with its potato digging, wheat sow- grasped young Sumner's hand to give it a whole ing and apple gathering, then there was a mak- souled shake-as if to atone for their quiet- ing of every thing snug for winter, and Riclard audience, students and all, burst forth in deafen- Sumner bright and vigorous as when lie left ing cheers, among which were shouted the school, and well advanced by his evening's stud- names "Summer, Putnam, Judge Fullerton and ies, wiis ready to return to the seminary for his Mrs. Moulton." The anxious and severely practi- second and last six months close but delightful, cal professor began to fear they should never be application; and this time he went with the bear- able to go oi with their exercises, for in their ty " God bless you, Dick," of his homespun fa- present excited state, the smallest move seemed ther, who a year before had pronoun ed it "all to prompt the lookers on to a renewal of the din. folly for a farmer's boy to have o mch larnin." Finally, through the suggestion of one of the Richard Sumner found, on his ref urn to school, junior teachers, the anxious man hustled Sumner that his old friend and rival, Gary Putnam, had and Putnam-the two instigators of the spirit of finished his preparatory studies with great credit, confusion, from the stage, and with something and was already pursuing his college court r in like restored quiet, the remaining exercises were an Eastern institution-one of the first V1 the passed over-whether ill or well, seemed all one country ; for a little time he flt the loss of his to the crowd who had no thought for anything in former friend, but soon wholly absorbed in his the common line, books he regretted nothing, and before he was When the whole thing was over, to the delight scarcely conscious of its presence the winter was of all the students who chanced to be near them, gone and the spring too, and with them the Sumner and Putnam shook hands cordially, and last half of the year's schooling, which his hon- Judge Fullerton, who soon joined the little cir- est father had considered time enough to learn cle, told the latter he must take good care of his nearly all that books could contain. Sometins position if he would not see his father's son left he had found it hard to keep down the longings in the rear by this stalwart farmer ; but as he which would arise in his heart for a deeper I 5 I'_ ji I - 14 *6 r 1 . 4 _ . _. 'f , 1 "{ i i g Y1 f } pl t page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] 6 THE PRIZE ESSAY. draught at that fountain from which he had sipped a few drops, and found them so delicious; but it could not be. He must be satisfied, for he was confident his father had done all for him he could afford, and he would show him that-he knew how to be grateful. With a right good will he bade adieu to his teachers and fellow-students, and re- solved to leave all regrets behind him. It was not his fortune to have such coveted advantages as many he had come to know, during his year in school, but he felt he had richer blessings, per- haps, than they in that plain old farm-house, his home, and he returned to them with a loving, thankful heart. This time, the termclosed on Friday night, and the following Monday morning Dick Sumner ap- peared in his rough farming garb, ready to do battle with the spring's work, which was already waiting to be attacked by his young strong arms. That night the good old farmer whispered to his smiling wife that their boy was made of the right stuff ; "he can't be puffed up or spilt by all the larnin' in the land ;" and when, in the following fall, his manly son procured a situation as teach- er of a school, and was to receive the almost fabu- lous sum of twenty dollars a month, board and wsAshing included, and his school to continue five months, was not the father proud enough? " Ah, my boy, we'll be thinkin' 'bout a new houie one of these days," he exclaimed, carefully reckoning up what amount of money Dick would be the possessor of in the Spring; "Mother says this old un is gettin' purty rickety, and so it is, I 'spose, but it's somethin like oursel's; but, nev- er mind, you and the gals is young and strong, and so I ortn't to be thinkin' 'bout another and me." As to the son, he entered heart and soul into this plan for a new house, for, as his honest father had said, the old one was getting rather rickety, and he longed to see his patient, selfsac- rificing mother surrounded by more comforts and conveniences while she was still young enough to enjoy them. As to his father, he always had a warm, comfortable corner when he came home from his work, and he could not understand what nice-care and management were necessary to keep that one room, which must serve as a kitchen and parlor, so tidy, cheery, and rest-inviting. He only knew it was so, and when he saw his pa- tient-faced wife looking tired it quite puzzled him, so nice and comfortable as she must be in- doors all day long. Good old man! warmth and rest had become more desirable to him than any- thing else. But his son saw everything in a dif- ferent light; young and strong, and hopeful, too, he looked to working out a future, but in the meantime his dear ones must be made comforta- ble, and hisfirst earnings, swelled by what could be cleared from their small farm, should be ex- pended in building a new house ; then his sisters must be thought of, for he had determined their natural taste for books should be better gratified than it could be at their district school, though with his help they were for the present going on finely. Richard Sumner was most fortunate in pro- curing the place he did as teacher. The people were such as were ready to be pleased by one who entered with a whole soul into the teaching of their children, and before he left them, to the delight of all his pupils and satisfaction of the parents-he was re-engaged for the following, winter at twenty-two dollar a month. With his hundred dollars in his pocket, which, to ex- press their more than satisfaction, the trustees -contrary to custom-got ready for him the day his school should close, he returned to his father's home proud and happy. Why should he not be happy ! in one year he had earned enough to re- pay his father three-fold for what his father had expended for him that extra year at the academy. He had no thought of keeping back any portion of it for little extravagances in clothing-for a time his mother and sisters must attend ; to his wardrobe, as they had ever done. Until he saw them established in a new home he would not aspire to any thing higher than comfortable home- spun. When the crops were disposed of the follow- ing fall, their saved-up sum was swelled to two hundred and fifty dollars. The coming winter's earnings would make it three hundred and sixty ; the old farmer rubbed his hands with glee. "A new house for mother and the girls in two years, my boy-five hundred dollars '11 dew the thing right purty-good 'nough for queens, and they is queens too, ain't they ; Mary's a plaguy purty gal, jist like mother many a year ago, and Nettie, the little weazel, ain't a pin ahind her; childern is a great comfort, Dick-a real solid comfort, my boy ! Well, it will be plaguy nice, though, arter all, I kinder like old quarters, but I wont be too selfish, I can't 'bide self-consate, and young folks is young folks, and must have change." Richard's winter quarters were full twenty miles from his father's home, so the Saturday morning previous to the Monday which was to commence his labors, the family were astir long before day, for Mr. Sumner was to take his boy to the substantial farmer's house where he was to make it his home, and the utmost expedition TIIE PRI would be required to enable the old man to re- turn by bed-time, for to stay away from his home all night he often declared went aging his natur. Never had Mary felt it so hard to be separated from this dear elder brother as now; she knew it was best, she felt it must be so, but that made it no easier to endure. If they could but have him as they had during his year in the academy, every Saturday night it would make the separation much more endurable ; but to gratify some two or three time-saving fathers and mothers Richard had consented to forego the Saturday afternoon's rest, keeping each week out to the utmost limit till five o'clock Saturday evening, and even then hev as not allowed to feel his time his own, nearly all joining in the opinion that their sool master belonged to them is much Sabbath as any other day, and he wondered him- self how they got on without him in the singing at the meetings which were held in the school- house every Sabbath, for when he was there, he and his pupils made up the choir, save now and then a devotional old brother or sister, whom the spirit of piety moved to strike in and do their very best to make the young folks strike Out. So to gratify both parents and pupils Rich- ard decided on making but one visit to his home during the winter. "You must help Nettie on with her studies, Mary ; and you get on as well as you can alone, saving everything you don't understand till I come for that grand visit. It won't be so very long, if you are busy all the time, and I know you will be as busy as a bee-there, there, don't cry Mary, I want to remember your face bright and happy." This was the noble boy's encouraging good-bye o his oldest sister, who was more his companion than any one else. To her he came with all his hopes and anticipations, as well as with all his difficulties and dis, ouragements ; they were in truth to each other all that brother and sister could be. None of those quarrelings and wrang- liugs which ofttimes spring up from intercourse with the world, had this little family ever known. To think of each other seemed withal the most natural thing in life, and now the eldest daughter pressed back her tears, that by her cheerfulness she might make the parting less painful to all the rest: her hopes and ambitions were very high for this brother, and well she knew how necessary was separation, for how could he accomplish all his talked of plans staying with thetm in their little farm home. As to the father, he pronounced them all a set of chicken-hearted babies, to cry when Dick was sech a plaguy smart boy, able to r ; t , 1 i c rt t i i .r 1 ZE ESSAY, am sech lots o' money. But when the tender mother and her two girls were left to themselves they had a good cry together, and then their tears were chased away by hopeful thoughts. When the practical old farmer returned home in the evening, and found their faces all beaming with smiles, he pronounced them the most sen- sible set of women folks he'd ever seen. "He'll make a fortin, that boy of ourn one o' these days ; it would a' did your heart good, moth- er, to a' seen the way they received himjest like he was a minister, or some other great man by jings, didn't I feel proud and no mistake ! then the way he interduced me to all on 'em-it was jest like Dick and no body else ; one 'Id think he'd been born a king, by his manners, and yet there ain't tde first grain of stick-up in him." As to mother and the girls, they fully agreed with the enthusiastic father, yet in spite of all her efforts to keep them back, the tears-which were such a mystery to the husband-were silently chasing each other down the wrinkled cheeks of Mrs. Sumner. After a few days they all became accustomed to having the absent one away, and then they all gathered around the large crackling fire in the kitchen, peaceful and happy, after a hard day's work; the mother al ways busy with her knitting or mending-Mary stitching away industriously upon some progress- ing garment, for she was now the only seamstress the family required, while just at her elbow the petted Nettie, who was seven years younger than herself, had her place with arithmetic and slate working her way so hard to get on in a way which would astound brother Dick, when he should come home for his mid-winter's visit. Then the old farmer-who by wife and daughters was con- sidered first and most important on all occasions, occupied his cushioned chair, which ever held its place in the brightest corner-his stockened feet outstretched, his head laid back in the very atti- tude of contentment at the glowing warmth which was shining upon him. Sometimes he listened to, or perhaps joined in the conversation between his wife and oldest daughter, then he would close his eyes for a moment's nap. They did, indeed, present such a picture of humble happiness as many a business wearied man, or fashion-slaved woman might have envied. It was something in this way that Richard ever remembered the little circle at home during the many months he was away from them, for he found very few families so quiet and loving, with whom the world had intermeddled in so small a degree as had it with his own. From his inmnost heart this youth prayed that it might never he i page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 8 THE PRIZE ESSAY. otherwise-that his pure-minded sisters would ever have a little circle where their hearts should centre their woman's love-for which life itself would not be too great a sacrifice. The little he had seen outside that home-hearth had convinced him, that in its refining influence, no education, however finished or elegant, could atone for the absence of the teaching and training given by a pure womanly nature, which, in his partiality, the sen saw developed in all its perfections in his own darling mother. So, amidst daily school la- bors, evening studies, and a continual making of himself useful, the first ten weeks went away. Then the time came for his home visit, and never was visitor greeted with fonder hisses, or more hearty words of welcome. But three days' stay had been granted him, and, before he was conscious of it, they were gone; yet it was astonishing how much.had been done in that time. Mary had been helped up in all her difficulties, and the brother was delighted to see how finely she was getting on. Nettie had gone through with an entire reviewing, and was more than satisfied with the praises Dick heaped upon, not only herself, but also her teacher. All the cattle, sheep and horses, had passed before him in their turn, and been pronounced in excellent order; indeed, nothing had been forgotten, and yet Richard went back to his labors with a feel- ing of reluctance, He feared his mother was not well-in her face there was an expression of unusual care ; -he had all the time felt it, but to his anxious inquiries she had answered with a coaxing smile, that was all. In his father, too, usually so quiet, he had noticed a look of uneasiness. When his eyes rested upon the mother's face, though when the boy ventured to question- him upon the subject, the old man had declared with great earnestness, he had never in his life seen mother better; but this could not wholly satisfy Richard, and he re- turned to his school, wishing it was done, and he at liberty to remain with his family. After a time, however, his apprehensions became quieted by one of his father's neighbors calling at his school house to tell him they were all doing finely at home. This friend had called at the old farm house that very morning, knowing he should pass that way, and thinking Richard might like to hear; he had seen and talked with each member, and pronounced them all looking unusually well and in such good spirits-this was very satisfac- tory, and once more this ambitious youth gave himself up heart and soul to his labor. I TIIE PRIZ CHAPTER SECOND. "Droop not, tho' shame, sin and anguish are round thee, Bravely fling off the eold chain that hath bound thee, Look to yon pure Heaven, sailing beyond thee, Rest not content in the darkness-a clod ! Work--.for some good-be it ever so siowiy, Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly; Labor I all labor is noble and holy, Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God."-[Osgood.- Time sped very swiftly away, until it wanted but one week of the close of his five ionths, and Richard began to feel regrets mingled with his eagerness for the last day, for the tie between teacher and pupil had become very strong. A re-engagement for another winter was talked of, but .the trustees hesitated about in- creasing the wages, they having gone already higher than had ever before been paid ; the young man felt he was now competent to undertake a much larger school, and was very near declining the renewal of the engagement on any grounds-, when circumstances occurred to hasten this de- cision. On Monday afternoon of thelast week, just as the scholars had been dismissed for the day, the teacher was startled bythe entrance of his father; but one glance was needed to show the son there was something very unusual weighing upon the old man's mind ; his face was very sober, and when he grasped the outstretched hand of his boy, and answered that he was well to the affection- ate "How do you do, father ?" there came no smile to relax those sad, stern features, and the voice was very dry and painfully husky. With anxious hesitation Richard enquired after his mother and the girls. Well, well, toy boy, 'taint them that's the matter !" answered the father in an excited man- iner, and then laying his hand upon his son's should. der, he went on in such a pleading tone, " Don't blame me, Dick ; promise me you won't blame me-won't call me an old fool, though I know I've been one-yet I could never stand that--to have my children turn agin me." The son did his best to sooth the father, and now with tolerable heart too, since he knew, what- ever had happened, his mother and sisters were well. After a little while the broken old man commenced his sad story-and sad enough it was too-yet he had no need to fear censures from his son, judging from the looks of sympathy which beaned upon the old man's face, as he went on with his humiliating confession, of how in his desire to grow suddenly rich, as had many of his acquaintances in the neighboring village, he had embarked in the raging wheat speculation, not only risking their snug little sum of two hundred and fifty dollars, bat in the firm beliet that he 11 '{ s ggi '.1 c I F' r could make double that amount, he had mortgag- ed the dear old home, to raise an additional five hundred. This had been expended in buying wheat, double the amount it would pay for, the same sworn friend-in truth one of the most shrewd of grasping speculators, who had advanc- ed hin the money on the mortgage-going his security for the payment of the other half, as soon as the old farmer should in his-turn sell ; but to make himself safe, in case of accident, he said he fixed a claim upon the same wheat to the amount for which he was security. This had been in early winter, day followed upon day, not a cent more had-been offered in the market than Mr. Sumner had given; his friends assured him there was nothing to fear, it certain- ly must come sip soon, so the simple hearted old man was content to wait, as it was evident the longer he waited, the greater would be the rise; so said his advisers, and thel were experienced men. But week had followed upon week, and month upon month, and so far from the market price increasing, each day it grew less and less, until his friend Mr. Rich advised him to sell without- an other d ay's delay. This to the old man seemed impossible, and so he told his ad- viser ; now he would not receive a farthing more than half of what he had agreed to pay, and this last was the friend's reason for not only insisting upon a sale, but enforcing it, if there was any fur- ther hesitation; and to his dismay poor Mr. Sumner found he possessed the power, for the time which had been given the old man to dispose of the thousand bushels of wheat-which was the amount he had purchased-had already expired. "And to-morrow it goes my boy, and. every cent 'll go into the pocket of John Rich-he is a villain, I know it now, and I was a fool-but that don't make it no easier to bear. Oh ! Dick it's hard-plaguy hard-poor mother, she looks near heart broke, but the gals try to cheer her, though I can't see any cheer about it !" and the old man buried his face in his hands and fairly 8 obbed aloud. his son could not at first believe all was as bad as was represented, but the father once more composed, told that he had sought the best legal advice their town afforded, and had been assured there was no power in law to reach such a trans- action-to let the suit go on, he could in truth lose but the seven hundred and fifty dollars. "But the seven hundred and fifty dollars, he said, my boy, as though that wasn't enough to ruin us! to sech as him it may be nothing, but to an old non like mie, broke down by hard work-it's too much-I'm sure it'll putty nigh kill me, and . T ____ ._.._.... .. T It was very doubtful about their being able to borrow a sum, to them so very large, on the teen- rity they had to offer, and for the time they nut ask for paying it, and the young man felt it would be hardly the best thing to do if they could. lis father's working days had past, and if the farm was kept with its present incunmbrance, se en months in the year if not more he must himself be there, and then the help they should be com- pelled to hire, would eat up all their profits ; so their only hope of treeing themselves from debt must rest in the winter's labors. Then there was his mother to think of; though much younger than his father, she bad worked too hard all her life, to be forced to it anew, when she began to feel the need of rest; and what was there for the girls but a life of drudgery, if they remained on the old debt incumubered place. If he could but get a situation in some large village school, where he would be employed simmer as well as winter, and could have the family in a snug little home, where he could board with them, Richard felt it E ESSAY. 9 sometimes I've been sinful 'nough to wish I could die. Poor mother, it's hard on her, she toll me better than do it, she wanted mse to como to you afore I ventured in sech a thing; but I thought I knowed better than she or you, and I did it with out heedin' her counsel, or seekin' your advice, my boy, and I've ruined you all," and again the old man broke down, Richard tried to comfort his father, and indeed it was a comfort that he was so kind, that lie ut- tered no word of reproach ; he had not dared hope it would be so though the mother had tried to persuade her poor husband that their son could act in no other way than kindly. Mr. Sunnier went with Richard to his boarding place, for it was too late for him to think of returning home that night, and in a desponding way the old maia said: " It's of no account now, I might as well get used to stayin' away, for the old place'11 have to go and afore long too"-and after talking it over during nearly the whole night the son was con- vinced the father was right. Their whole farm fell a little short of fifty acres, and although they had good barns, the boise was very poor, so the price for which it would sell under the most favorable circumstances would not be more than twice the amount for which it had been mortgaged. The man who had a cimm upon it would show no mercy, and the time was drawing very near when he would have the pow- er of foreclosing the mortgage, if the borrowed money was not paid; for Mr. Sumner had given his note payable in four months. page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] # s y: } 3 ' ;' (s Y 1 t= " i{ r' e;, THE PRIZE ESSAY. 10 , THE PRIZE ESSAY. would be the best thing; and so he toldhis father. the young man's indignation. "My father was The old man listened silently and despondingly. ignorant of your way of doing business; I am The world looked very cold and barren; what proud of saying it, he is an honest man. You he had worked for all his life was gone, and now have wronged him out of his little home-but he and mother and the girls must rely upon poor never mind, he possesses what you do not, sir, Dick! But the young man spoke cheeringly- and never will-a good conscience and the love he said, he wouldn't wonder if he could get a and veneration of his family. I have looked into situation where he would receive forty dollars the matter, sir ; I understand all about it; the a month ; he was positive he was well enough qual- man of whom my father purchased that wheat, ified to enter almost any village school. At the all through your influence, is but your agent; my- thought of so much the father brightened a little, father's loss goes to swell your wealth, it may be but poor old man, dependence seemed a very imperceptibly, it is so small, but it was to him hard thing to him; he -had received his son's as much as your own ill-gotten riches are to you, wages without a thought of dependence, and it was his little all! He is now broken down by would have continued to do so; it was a very his loss, but thanks to him, I am qualified to do different thing from going into a house where he something by which he can still live independ- was nothing but a hanger-on-a burthen, he ently; and remember, Mr. Rich, there may come said-but there was no way that he could see a day of reckoning-your villainy may return but this, and bidding his son "good bye," he turn- upon your own head; if it does or does not, I ed his horse's head towards that home-whi ch don't envy you your happiness." he fully realized could be his but a little longer- Richard spoke with great vehemence, paying with a heart weighed down by gloom and hope- no heed to his father's cautioning, " Dick, Dick, lessness. my boy," but with his eyes flashing with honest Richard determined to stay his time out, for it indignation, he held his parent's creditor silent would be a great disappointment to his scholars and spell-bound till he was done., His answer the losing of this last week; they had counted was such as showed that he felt the young man's upon having grand times with spelling schools, words.I in which the neighboring districts were to meet - "Boy, how dare you speak to me in this way? them as enemies, and to all it was a most i m- Do you know I have the power to turn you out portant matter who should come off victorious, of this house before another day ?" he could not now feel so much interest in the "You have not, sir, law has something to do eambat himself, but he said it would be too hard here," was Richard's proud answer. for him to allow his own 'anxieties to spoil their "We will see, boy, we will see," was the an- sport, and since he could do no especial good by gry ejaculation of the enraged man, as he left the goiDng home, he would do his very best to make house. his scholars happy, and he succeeded, as must 4"Oh, Dick, who knows what he will do!" every one who forgets or strives to forget self in exclaimed the old man, in great distress to his duty. son.I Poor Mr. Sumner's speculation turned out as "He can do nothing, father. Maybe I was bad, and perhaps worse, than might have been, wrong, but bewas too insolent, and I couldn't help expected-, the wheat sold at a forced sale, and speaking. I just saw Mr. Marstoq and Harry; purchased by the same man of whom the old they say if we can't do better, they'll take the farmer had procured it, brought just enough to farm as they talked yesterday, at eighteen dollars pay the arrears, and the very day his note be- an acre, and this old villain will have nothing to came due, Mr. Rich, in his prompt business way, do with it. Mr. Marston said we should have called for the money.. The poor old man told four or five hundred dollars to-night, if we wished him he hadn't it, and made some complaints as it, and afterwards the papers could be made out. to the way he had been treated; but he was in- Don't look so down-hearted, father, the girls and formed that business was business; the creditor I, so, well and strong as we are, and you and moth- said if the money was not forthcoming in three er left to us." days, he must take the necessary steps to pre- The old man tried to look happier, for he heard cure it. .his wife -and daughters coming down stairs ; they " You can do so, sir !" exclaimed Richard, went away when they saw Mr. Rich coming in, who had sat silently by until now, for it was his for the old farmer wouldn't have them hear all father's business, and he wouldn't interfere, but he might have to say. At the mention of Harry this cold, calculating way of speaking aroused Marston's name, there was a very perceptible 11 deepening of the rose upon Mary's cheek, which was not lost upon her brother. After telling the mother and the girls that there would be no other way than to let Mr. Marston have the place, father and sen started off to see that kind neighbor. Whatever might have been Mr. Rich's calcula- tions, he was compelled to be satisfied with five hundred dollars and interest for four months, and a few additional words from Dick, whose bold- ness quite astounded the monied man. "Do you remember Judge Fullerton, Dick ?" asked Mary, one evening as they were going into the house after milking the cows. This had always been the brother's and sister's favorite time of talking over their plans, and now the young man had just finished telling his com- panion what he must be, doing. He had ended by saying: "Mr. Marston is very kind to let us stay here, yet I couldn't think of accepting his kindness any longer than necessary. Harry is at the bot- tom of it, Mary, and although I like it in him, I don't want you should be compelled to feel under any such obligation, I must get a school, that is the best thing for us, and in some village, too." It was in reply to this, that the blushing girl had asked her brother if he remembered his friend, who, excepting the night of the exhibition, he had never seen, but his answer told that he had not forgotten. "Yes, Mary, I do remember him, and now I believe you are thinking of the same thing I have been thinking of these good many days. To go to Marshall, to try my luck in getting a school. Father and mother will think it very far, but it wont make much difference; it can't be more than thirty-five or forty miles, and I do believe Judge Fullerton would use his influence to get me the school there." That evening in thelold kitchen, the matter was discussed thoroughly, and the result was the next day was fixed upon for Dick to start for Marshall. Two days passed and the family bore the suspense with exemplary patience, but the third day found them, from the old father to the, child Nettie, excited and restless ; Richard had told them they should allow him three days, yet they all firmly expected him the evening of the second, and when he did not come, parents grew troubled and Nettie grew fretful, while Mary did her best to reassure and sooth till three. Dear, hopeful girl, her faith in her brother was of itself almost sufficient to secure him success. Before the forenoon of the third day had half gone, Net- tie had been on the topmost rail of the fence not j less than half-a-dozen times to gain a longer sight of the way by which they expected their traveler, and each time as she jumped down, her declara tion had become more emphatic that he was never coming and there was no use in look- ing for him. But he did come in spite of the im- pulsive child's declaration to the contrary, and to her chagrin from the opposite direction fromiii the one she expected, and which she had watched since dinner from her eyry in the topmost branch of the highest pear tree which commanded the r oad and long before she could scramble to the ground the others had welcomed him in their own warm way. The horse must first be tiken care of be- fore the eager ones heard the result' if their Richard's expedition ; so his mother and sist-rs flew around to get something upon the table, ter the poor boy must be nearly fitmished, they all thought. When he came in, however, he bad them leave the lunch, and sit down every one of them, for he had much to tell; besides, he wasn't hungry, having taken dinner about one o'clock. And it was a long story he had to tell the little circle who gathered around him. Just a little in front of his boy, and so close that his hand rested upon his knee, sat the old fa ther, his face bearing the marks of care, and his 'yes turned upon that manly son as his only hope; and then near her husband sat the loving wife and mot her, while upon the other side of the narra tir were the two sisters, and never did speaker have bet- ter listeners. le arrived at Marshall the afternoon of the day he left home, and enquiring for Judge Ful- lerton's office of the landlord where he put up his horse, he made his way to it without delay. At first the kind-faced mann seemed to have for- gotten him, but when his visitor told his ane he grasped his hand more cordially than.the young man had even hoped. "Remember you, indeed I do, my son. I was a farmer's boy, Mr. Sumner; I struggled through many difficulties to gain my education, and that little scene in the academy where I first saw you came - right home to my heart: for an hour or so I was living my academy days over again ; sit down now, for I want to hear all about how you have been going on," And so Richard had told this whole-hearted man how the three years had passed, and finally closed by revealing the object of his visit; and to his satisfaction Judge Fullerton told him he was almost sure he could secure the village school for him the following fall-but at the same time he said he ought to be doing something where his powers of mind would be brought more into ac- page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 THE PRIZE ESSAY. tion, and which would promise a better future. Teaching was wearing mentally and physically, and too often a most thankless as well as slavish life ; and then the remuneration was not what it ought to be. " But we will talk more of this to-night, for you will go home with me, and possibly we may strike out a path for you in the future, which you will think it better to follow than teaching." That evening Judge Fullerton proposed to Richard Sumner the commencing of the study of law in his office. The young man told him how impossible such a thing would be, much as he might wish it. He must think of immediate ne- cessities, which could only be met by his enter- ing a remunerative occupation. " I understand," had been the answer to this, " of course I must understand this; yet is it not possible for you to get on with what you might earn as clerk? For the first year this might be little more than enough to pay your board, we will say three dollars a week, though if you are a pretty rapid penman, and not afraid of early as well as tolerably late hours, I think you could bring it up to five or six dollars after a little time; for you see, my son, this writing is a part of your study, and if twelve hours are spent in the office, six will be as much as you should spend in read- ing, so six will be left for copying; in that time I used to earn a dollar, but it was upon the very nicest work-in truth as confidential clerk. You are a farmer's boy, Sumner, you have been brought up with economical, industrious, and strictly honest habits, you are ambitious, and have perseverance and strength to support your ambition, why should you not take the place in my office, if, as you tell me, your desire has been to enter this profession. By a severe illness I was two months ago robbed of my reliable clerk, I have not been able to fill the place to my satis faction, if you feel inclined to try such a labo- rious course-for you will have to labor if you would succeed-the place is open to you to make a trial: If you come immediately, which I should wish you to do, you will have learned before fall whether you can venture to go on; if you cannot I will promise to do my best to procure the school for you ; now you see, I am offering you nothing but a chance to work your way, but if you do as well as I hope of a farmer's son, it will prov e a mutually advantageous undertaking. Now tell me frankly, how does this look to you, Mr. Sum nor ?" " It looks, sir, as though I would enter it heart and soul, so far as the labor is to be considered, but I must first see how much it will cost our famiy to live here, for it won't do for me to un- dertake anything that will be running us in debt. Neither of my parents could endure such a thing, nor could I; and to begin with, what will we be compelled to pay for rent; a small house, but comfortable, Judge Fullerton?" " I have a cottage a half mile from the office which will be vacated next week; it has two very comfortable sleeping rooms, a small parlor, kitchen and woodhouse, besides a low chamber which answers for storage very nicely, and in a case of emergency, could be used as a bed-room, for it is warm and lighted by two windows, one in each gable; beneath the house there is a good cellar: then a small but excellent garden plat sur- rounds the house, and at the further end of the plat is a barn large enough to shelter a horse and cow, as well as to contain the winter's fodder. How do you think this would answer-it is plain but very decent, and in a most respectable neigh-- borhood?" " So far I am sure it would. be most satisfac- tory, sir, but you forget you have not given the most important item to one who is compelled to count costs closely." " Ah ! yes, the rent," exclaimed Judge Fuller- ton. "Well, the family, who have occupied it for two years, agreed to pay me a, dollar per week, though they have always managed to be sorely behind hand; and what I have got out of them had cost me more than it has come to, so I have made u p my mind to let them try another landlord, for there s no reason why they should be objects of charity, being all in good health ; next week they must go; that I think is not an unreasonable rent ?"- This was said question- ingly.I " No, I should think not, for such a snug place,' was Richard s answer, immediately adding, "and if we went into this house, sir, there should be no lack of promptness in paying rent; my father is a very plain farmer, but he has an independent and honest spirit." " And don't lack pride, judging from his son 2' was the elder gentleman's smiling remark. Richard's face crimsoned, "you need not be ashamed of it, my son, it is a manly pride that needs not to be blushed for, a pride that would compel you to live upon the meanest fare rather than have it in the power of any man to sky you owed him ought ; it will insure you success, I am confident ; but let us remember what we are about ; if this house suits you, a dollar a week is all that you will have to pay for rent, as to the other expenses, you, as a farmer, know them as y TIlE PRIZE ESSAY. 13 well as any one; they won't be great,'for every- so insisted on having the bargain all closed, atil thing is very low." I, believing it the best thing, yielded to ciruin- In his own mind Richard had already run them stances. Did I not do right, father I" ovbr, and was near coming to the conclusion that "Yes, Dick; and I'm sure we may think it a the thing might be done, though perhaps with a plaguy good chance for Mary; two dollars and pinch, when his companion wen.- on after a brief a half is fust rate for a gal to be arnin ; but pause. what 'bout you, boy ; do youi think you've got "Have you not a sister old enough to assist a gab 'nough in you to make a lawyer 7" little by teaching ? For it would be an easy mat- Richard as well as his sister laughed a little ter to get a young lady into the school here, es- at this query from their father, but much to the pecially one who had the reconitnendation of be- surprise of not only his children, but his wife ing country bred. also, the old farmer seemed to be talking inre The young man told how limited had been than half in favor of his son's inew plans in a little Mary's advantages, but Judge Fullerton assured time. him there was no doubt of her being more than " To tell the truth, mother, ever since l)ick competent to undertake in the juvenile depart- give it to that villain Rich in such a way, l'xe msent, where she would receive at the very least been thinking hewarn't made for living in the kind two dollars and a half per week. It was now the o'way I have; he's too much fire in him ; 1nly middle of April, as yet the summer's arrange- hope he'll be an honest man." mnents were not made for the lady teachers in the This was the old fitther's concludinmr ent ri Ito district school, and after some talking and a good his wife that night; and with this ifthoerl wN i-i deal of thinking, Richard Sumner decided that, for his boy still lingering in his mind, the ol tla- let hin do as he might, this would bt a desirable itmer fell asleep. It was decided that the flily thing for Mary, she would feel not only indepen- should remove to Marshall as so:t as they coldl dent, but would in truth be a great help to their Let ready; for, hard as it might be for ti1n, t1h parents, and at the same time vould be advancing parents felt it would be the best thing for tiwir it her studies ; so on the following day he accom- children, and whatever was best for their eOh - panied Judge Fullerton to see the trustees, and it dren they should soont come to enjoy. was decided that the little more than child to her Three weeks froi the time this new lhm xwas family, should the following week appear before i rst talked of in the old farn- house kitchen. h iid the inspectors for examination, which must de- the family of Mr. Sumner really ensconced ini txeir cide her engagement the coinig four mouths. village hoie which wits far fromi unplenaa , In tis recital to his parents and sisters, Richard While Mary iad commenced her novel lamr, in had been permitted to go through with his long, the school room, and early as well as late hRirhar d but not to them tedious, account with very few xwas found at his desk in Judge Fullerto' lii. interruptions, save as his father would ask a to the garden Mr. Sumner ftouud enoiigli ti more particular account of what was said on keep . him busy and cotnseqiently tolerai ly con both sides; but when he cane to this-that he tent ; in her household allairs the notlir ix a had really engaged a school for Mary, in ca se she succeeded in procuring a certilicate, all exclaimed with astonishment and the poor girl herself was in a great fright. But Richard assured her he knew much better than any one else whether she was fitted, and he had no anxiety. " And it is determined that you go to stulyin and writin with the judge, my boy ?" asked the father in a tone expressive of dissatisfaction. " No, father, I certainly would not decide upon that till I came home and talked with you about it; and even in Mary's case, I lisisted upon being allowed a week to decide, but they are very late in making their engagement, having failed in one that they had considered would prove satisfactory. I presume it was owing to Judge Fullerton's accompanying me, they seemed very certain you would suit them, sister, and very happy, morning and ventig having ic is sistamice of her daughter, site fomihid her pr'.nt life much less laborious tihamn had bhei rlp"t upon the fita. But the pirenits had n'ai .: - ieties ; to them it seemed a very preentrion- of living, their daily support dependiii ng labor of their clhilkr n, yet it was the ht t it t could be done, and they were truly thankful that they had such a Son and daughter to rely pO in their extremity. A few months' trial showed not only lU-b: rI but his parents too tlh'?t Juilge Fullertiu hnt not overrated his advantages ; his labi rs xwith his pen often gained him seven dollars ii,, week, and never less than five ; having thi ,i xiii what Mttry plaid thtem for hem- board, the y min ed ' to bring around the first year very comfhirtally, the mother's management and economy mo dii s' r . --- { --------------- r --_ ,... .+. r..-_w... -+.«...raw.rwr"v...s...r.. ..e. .. -w.+ .-w .... -..... -".rr a _. i r c i S e r t page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] 14 THE PRIZE ESSAY. to the son to have doubled their receipts, for to the simple wardrobe of each one had been made the necessary additions, so that the second year was begun even more promisingly than had been the first, yet this partial success had not come without labor very severe-often weari- some-for no heart however brave or hopeful will never feel discouragements when they are strewn thickly by the way-no hand or head however willing or strong will never feel fatigue if constantly taxed. But Richard's heart sink- ings were never of very long duration, and be- fore the close of the second year he began to oc- casionally receive P fee for officiating in some petty case ; it might be small, but it was a help to his family. So well did he manage the first few important matters placed in his hands, in such a manly and yet such a lawyer like way, Judge Fullerton, who had already grown to have the greatest confidence in his pupil, tried him again and again each time giving him a more im- portant case, and when the third year o f his studies commenced, his prospects really began, to brigthen. Five years had been the time which his legal father had at first fixed as necessary to admit him, well fitted, to the bar, but so rapidly had Richard advanced in his study, Judge Fullerton told him at the commencement of the third year, that a half of his time had expired, that another two years' close application would fit him thor- oughly for his examinations and admission. This was indeed cheering, and but little time did he have to spend in copying during the coming months-he had grown a very necessary assist- ant in more important matters, and this was given up to those whose time was not as valuable to others or themselves as had his become. That was a happy day to all interested in Richard Sumner, which completed his four years' study. He passed his examinations with much credit, and the very week following the one on which he was admitted to the bar, Judge Fuller- ton received the young man into his office, no longer as mere student, but as a partner in his business. When old Mr. Sumner called upon his son's friend to thank him for his kindness to his boy, the Judge said, in reply to his few touch- ing words of gratitude: "The obligation is on my side, Mr. Sumner; your son has become indispensable to me, and you have yourself alone to thank for the good, whole., some lessons which you practised before him of industry, economy and honesty, and the advan- tages you gave him for an education. Happily for you and your family, he has improved upon these well, and if you live but a few years, sir, it is my belief you will be the father of a great man." The large tears leaped from furrow to furrow in their uneven course down the old farmer's cheeks, and when he would have spokes, as he grasped the hand of Judge Fullerton, something in his throat choked him, and he turned towards his cottage home without a word. " Who'd a thought it, mother, when we fixed the boy off for the 'cademy, more 'n seven years ago ! I 'gin to think it may be better 'n farimin'; arter all, though 'twas plaguy hard givin' up the old place, and it e'en a'most broke my heart, but we ort to be thankful; yes, mother, we ort to be very thankful for sich children." This was the really worthy father's long speech to his tearful, yet happy-faced wife that night, after telling her what Judge Eullerton hud said of Dick; and Mary, the faithful, noble, hoping worker, was sae not proud of her brother? Many a time had Richard said to her during these four years of hard labor, did he succeed it would be to her he should owe his success. To see such steady, loving faith as she had ever had in him, lie would be unworthy such .a sister, did he not accomplish all she expected of him., Perhaps Richard was right ! Every heart has its fountain of affection, and through that the intellect may be more easily reached than through the outward sense of hearing, by dint of long lectures upon human responsibilities, or per- chance often repeated assurances to. the slow plodder in the road to greatness, that he is a dunce. Both of these last named systems have too often failed of making.from promising boys anything but the merest apologies for men, why should not mother and sisters try faith upon those Heaven has given them,; it is said to be powerful enough to remove mountains, may it not make mountains of goodness and greatness from those minds which chastisement and blam- ing would utterly dwarf? Richard Sumner's first year in his profession was one of steady success. The senior partner in the firm soon began to learn the junior had no common head, to rest upon such young shoulders, and so unwearying was he, apparently so insensi- ble to fatigue, he soon surprisedJudge Fullerton, much as he had grown to expect during those four years of persevering study. At the close of the year Richard made the announcement to the trustees of the village school, that they would be compelled to seek a teacher to fill his sister's place. Such a proud and happy thing as this was for the brother i lY {, 1 ' ,1 1)" t s 15 Now Mary should have the advantages of a bet- ic flashing into life, but a steady working into de- ter education, for which she had always so much served consideration, more rapid it is true than longed, but of which she had never spoken since is often seen, because there had been more in- her father's unfortunate loss. The truly noble dustry; but his was a most reliable footing and girl remonstrated a little, saying she had got on so often now he had a trial of his strength in those well in her studies it was not worth while, and cases where a natural lawyer finds such delight it would be too great a burthen upon the gener- in working his way step by step until lie brings to ous Dick;' but that young man silenced her by light a chain of evidence which astounds even saying he would not be outdone by her, she had himself. labored five years untiringly to give him a pro- In this branch of the profession Richard dis- fession, now it was his turn to have a little pleas- played such unusual talent, that notwithstanding ure; "until you comply with my wishes and at- his great advantage in years and experience tend the best young lady's seminary in the coun- Judge Fullerton seldom allowed any case of im- try, Mary, for at least two years, I shan't give portance to pass without first submitting it to the my consent in a little hatter which I know lays consideration or examination of the junior part- very near your heart'. Harry graduates in one ner; and the kind old Judge was free to coifess year, and after that he'll not be a very patient that this was not more benefit to the young man, youth in one matter, but he can't have my sister, than himself by securing the opinion of one so till she as a woman stands equal to him in edu- vigorous and long-headed. cation, as she is in everything else." On entering the office one evening after a most This proved a conclusive argument, and Mary at fatiguing, day in court, young Sumner was mde twenty-three years of age commenced her studies very uncomfortable by seeing his partner sur- under the accomplished teachers of a school of rounded by three or four persons engaged in very high repute. 'There was but one change made earnest conversation ; he had some little niatters in their way of living in Richard's home ; which he particularly wished to consult the elder now that Mary was away, the fond son and gentleman upon, but a glance at his earnest law- brother insisted that there was too much for his year's face told the young man he nust wait, ac- mother and Nettie to do about the little cottage. cordingly he turned to leave the room. The child Nettie was nearly old enough to think "Sumner," called out Judge Fullerton, from of sobering a little, but she had a strange fancy his place, "are you particularly engaged for an for remaining a child in everything but her books, hour or so?" and to all it was such a delight to have her just "No, not at all engaged, sir," was the gentle- as she was a very well-spring of joy and love ; manly answer, yet there was something half re- no one felt disposed to find fault, so the brother luctent in the voice, which might have been in- said they must have a girl to take the burthen of terpreted, "nor do I wish to be!" If his friend the work from the hands of his dear ones, and noticed this,lie gave it no consideration. Dick ruled the day, though to the industrious " Then you nmy feel inclined to give an hour's mother it was a grievance than otherwise for a attention here to some important facts which tinie. But the plain snug cottage was held too, promise to develop into something interesting." in spite of Judge Fullerton's sugg stion to the The young man approached the little groh p, young man that he ought to seek a larger house; and the instant his eye caught a sight of the face he had his own ideas about the first things to be of the lady, who had been engaged in speakig on attended to; it was true his prospects were most his entrance, he stepped quickly forward, ex- flattering, so different from what he had expected. claiming in a glad, cordial voice: " But," he said to himself," we can't tell what " Mrs. Moulton, my dear teacherr" may happen, and since father and mother ate so It was indeed that lady, but she found it much happy in the little cottage, my first earnings, be- more difficult to recognize in the fine, noinmre fore one little extravagance is indulged in, shall lawyer Sumner, any thing of the handsome youth, be put by for Mary and Nettie. I've not forgotten Richard Sumner, for whom she had felt-full how they put in their generous loving words for ten years ago-such a strong partiality. After me, when first battling father's prejudices; they a few moments spent in surprised exclamations shall have minds cultivated as they have hearts and inquiries, the lady turned to a bright faced generous and loving !" girl beside her. Another three years with its love and labor "Edile, my child, this is young Sumner, of passed and Mr. Richard Sumner stood high among whom I wrote you so many years ago, the com- his brother lawyers. His had not been a meteor petitor for the Prize Essay ! THE PRIZE ESSAY. " I i page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] THE PRIZE ESSAY. TI, E PRIZE ESSAY. i 't .4 .F i i ' C ,_ . ,r 1 . The young girl, she might have been sixteen or brought by business in that direction, he had call- seventeen years old, extended her hand in a frank ed to spend a few days with his relative. But the manner; the young man took the little hand very old man was not in quite his usual health, he kindly, for this free artless creature made him would not trouble her with this, he said, only that think of his sweet sisterNettie. These two ladies, the physician insisted on Miss Edile being writ- and a man having the appearance of a servant, ten to; but there was no cause for anxiety; it were all of the little company. As soon as he was a very slight indisposition, but lest they could with civility do it, Judge Fullerton called should be anxious he would write by next mail. the attention of all to the subject of interest. This had made Edile very unhappy, for her uncle The story which they had to tell was gleaned had long been subject to attacks of rheumatism, by fragments from Mrs. Moulton, Edile, and the and she knew how highly he valued his little nurse man Joshua, and was in substance as follows: . as he ever called her ; yet the mother had thought Twelie years before, a childless uncle of Mrs, it advisable to wait for a second letter; it came Moulton had asked of her, her daughter, who at in three days, and to their dismay, told that all the time was but six years old. He wished the was over. little one to grow up in his house, to regard him The two lost no time in their homeward jour- as her best friend, next to her mother, and to love ney, though there'was no chance of their arriving him as well as it is possible for childhood to love before the burial should take place; but Edile age, and in return for this she should have as per- had been nearly frantic with grief that she had not fect an education, as delightful a home as money been with her poor uncle, to whom she, a warm could procure, and at his death she should be the hearted child, had'becomne very strongly attached. possessor of all that was his, which was a hand- When they arrived at the old family home-it was some fortune of not less than thirty thousand dol- one that had been held by the family for two gen. lars. It was not strange that such a proposal, erations-all was confusion, and soon they learned from one in whom she had the most perfect con- that before his death the poor old man had made fidence, should be cordially accepted by a mother another will, depriving this child, whom he had for her child, when, aside from this, all that the loved doatingly, of even a pittance. The voices of future promised either of them was a life of toil the auctioneer and buyers w.,ere already ringing and hardship. And in this home of wealth, with through the old house, and when Mrs. Moulton the fond old uncle as her almost constant com- had ventured her remonstrances, the inheritor of panion, the child Edile had passed from little more all-this distant relative--had laughed sneeringly, than jifancy to girlhood, so free and joyous, with and said: but one wish ungratified-that wish was to have "Business is business; besides the old fellow her mother with her constantly. But that mother has had his day." knew she waa not required in the house, as her As to the housekeeper, she' was moody and uncle had a housekeeper who had served him silent; but this was nothing to wonder at-she long and faithfully, and kind as the old man was, was nearly always so! but poor old Joshua, he she felt he would prefer his child relying upon him was nearly heart-broken. for society more . than upon any one else, so "Didn't he remember the will dear old master through all this time she contented herself with a had made long ago, he had himself been one of yearly visit of a few weeks to her child, and the the witnesses, and everything had been given to remainder of the time she was occupied in teach- Miss Delie, just as it should be, and now to think ing. This state of affairs had continued ,up to of all being sold six months previous to the relation; then with But all was sold, notwithstanding many said it the old man's free consent Mrs. Moulton had wa- very unjust, and soume whispered that there taken Edile with her to make a brief visit to her was more to be learned, if Mrs. Moulton showed father's friends in the Eastern States. She had the spirit she ought to. But at first, Edile had scarcely ever been away from the old-fashioned opposed' this, her dear uncle was gone, and she home since she entered it for more than half aday, didn't care for the old place; yet, after a time, and then in the company of her old uncle, and now the dissatisfied murmurings of Joshua, and per- he said she ought to go, though when the hour of suasion of others, Who fancied they had seen parting came, he took on very badly, and begged movements about the old mansion, not altogether- her not to stay away from him long, consistent with the past life of the good Mld man, Not more than a month had they been absent had induced Mrs. Moulton to seek the advice of on this visit,when Mrs. Moulton received a letter her former acquaintance, Judge Fullerton. Josh- from a distant relative of this uncle, who said, ua had insisted upon accompanying her, for h did not like to trust her to tell his part of the story. "And what is the name of this man who had taken it upon himself to dispose of matters in this way ?" was the older lawyer's question. "Names have great weight with me-great weight," he added. "Rich, ir; John Rich." As Mrs. Moulton made this reply, Summer, who had before been an attentive listener, started, re- iterating that name three or four times. To the inquiries as to the cause of his excitement, he made no answer, save that he thought he had heard it before, but now his attention became most intense, and when Judge Fullerton, with his natural caution, expressed his doubts as to the advisability of undertaking anything like an in- vestigation, thatthe villain was too wealthy and influential, though he believed there had been foul play, his partner, with much promptness and earnestness, remonstrated: "Let them look about, at least," he said, "let them find what evidence there was against the man. Mrs. Moulton and her daughter had both seen a will in favor of the latter, so had Joshua, who had been a conddential servant. It had been, a common belief that the young lady was to be heir to the uncle's estate; there must have been crooked acting; let them at least do their best to discover it, if there had been.' The old Judge caught something of the young man's enthusiasm, and before the little party broke up, the lawyer had noted eery important and unimportant fact connected with the matter, had learned that Jane, the housekeeper, had gone with Mr. Rich to his city home, that the home- stead had been sold for much less than its real val- ue, and that unless the case should be gained, neither Mrs, Moultn nor her daughter had much to spare for lawyer's fees. In return for all this they eiferced upon the minds of the three the importance of keeping positive silence aeon the subjects, if poerible to lead even their best friends to think they had abandoned all hope in the matter. The next week Sumner thought he could es- cape from home business to quiet look over the whole thing, but their chief hope depended upon quit. After a little hesitation Mrs. Moulton ac- cepted Judge Fullerton's kind invitation to her. self and daughter to make his house their home for the present, that they could the more secure- ly communicate with them; and at the end of a week Sumner started upon the chase which, had his partner spoken his mind frankly, he would have pronounced something of the wild 16 17 - goose order, and the time of his absence con- vinced all interested that he had not found it wanting in length. But at last, to the relief of all, at the end of three thonths he did return, and when he laid out the evidence he had collected in full array, the elder lawyer was silent with astonishment and poor Mrs. Moulton was nearly beside hersel with delight. Immediate ly the prosecution wa, entered into, and in spite of the impatience of the plaintiff and her counsel the time did arri' e for the trial. It added not a little to the excit - ment of young Sumner, knowing that his old school fellow Gary Putnam and his celebrates father were to act as the opposing counsel. In his mind there was no doubt as to who wouli win the prize this time. Neither the defendant in allhis pride of wealth, nor his counsel were prepared for the host which was arrayed against him. There were sons narrow observers who fancied the cheeks of th confident Mr. Rich turned a shade paler whet Jane, the old housekeeper, was called upon the staud, but it might have been surprise at once more discover ing the old woman who had imonthe before escaped from his house; his surprise par- took somewhat of dismay, however, when the conscience stricken creature gave a full ac count of ill the temptations which he had placed before her to induce her, to produce the will of her master, and when at last she was overcome and brought it forward, he worked upon hen avarice and her natural dislike to the young iad) Miss Edile, until she consented to becon.e n accomplice in wroging her good old master who was dying, and who was constantly think ing and talking of his child, his darling Edile And first the original will must be destroyed this part of the work belonged to her, defendant had s tid ; at the time they were in the kitchen and in the store there was burning a brisk fire; she had removed one of the covert and thrown in the paper, much to 14, instigator's satisfaction ; the roar which follow eed the replacing of the lid satisfied him the wo k was done; but an hour after, when left alon, 81 e had found the document somewhat scorched, yet comparatively protected by the bed of ashes iio which it had fallen in the back part of the large cook stove. Here the oded paper was produced. showing scorched edges, but otherwise uninjured This opened the understanding of all for the crow of evidence which followed ; letters were pr- duced purporting to come from the young lady Edile Moulton, addressed to the housekeeper and speaking in a most unfeeling manner of he i page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] it { 18 THE PRIZE ESSAY. fond old uncle-these had been read to him in his ton in any other way than as the daughter of a last moments, when reason had a slight hold, and beloved teacher and his client. Why should he ? their influence upon his mind had produced that And now between the young men there came a trembling signature which consigned his child to long talk of past and present times, and so once poverty, and all his wealth to a man whom he had again they separated. Putnam to return to his not for long years entertained as a friend. cty home, and if possible to solve the prob- Before the trial was half completed, Messrs. lin as to how the poor, obscure, country Putnam saw how hopeless was the case of their boy had : advanced three strides to his one client, and in spite of themselves their pleas par- in their profession, and Dick Sumner to vis- took somewhat of their dampened spirit, but not it his parents and sisters on the old country more than did the eloquent Sumner of his tri- home, where Mary had for more than a year pre- umph. . The jury required but a few moments sided over the cozy new house of Harr-y Mars- for deliberation, and their return announced Edile ton, built upon the very site which had been oc- Moulton the rightful possessor-of the disputed es- cupied by the venerable tenement in which the tate. The court room now became a scene of Sumners had passed so many quiet years. confused excitement, and amidst the congratula- A week he had spent with his happy ones, and tions which acquaintances and strangers were for the twentieth time had told his delighted old heaping upon him, Sumneredged his way towards father all about the defeat of tie villain who had the spot where Mr. John Rich, now somewhat once robbed him, when a letter was received crest-fallen, was standing. which recalled him to business. It was from the "You remember Mr. Sumner. the simple-heart- man who had been the victim to Mr. Rich's ed farmer, Mr. Rich? Ah !yes, I see you re- fraudulent sale of Edile Moulton's estate. Th's member; I am his son ; you in that little specu- was indeed unexpected, and the young man made lation have come out the loser. all haste to Marshall to consult with Judge Ful- This was said by the youiig lawyer in a very lertos before responding to the call. It was roost audible voice, and, although those around did natural that he should feel s ame heart throbs of not understand the meaning of the sly speech, pride, and the warm congratulations of hisfriends they saw from the frowning brow and compress- were highly valued by him. ed lip of him to whom it was addressed that it Is triumph was a complete one in, this case, had struck a sensitive spot, but he made no re- and after the trial lie accepted of Mrs. Moulton's ply in words. invitation to visit her and her daughter in the The greeting between Sumner and Putnam was home he had saved for them, and now he was at very cordial. liberty to regard the young lady as something "You've striven for a high, prize this time, more than his client, and when a few months Sumner," was Putnam's merry bantering; "with. after Mrs. Moulton pressed the clasp.Ad hands of' out the estate, I think she'd be worth tr) im for, her children between her own, she said: and with it-my word you're a lucky fellow." "You have won my child, Richard; I give her The young man smiled at the absurdity of such to you with my best blossing-may she prove to a speech-he had never thought of Edile Moul- you earth's richest prize." CHAPTER FIRST. It was at this hour, so crow ded by br eight When a' either bairnies are hushed to their hame, visions to the favored ()f earth's little (irs, that By aunty or cousin, or freeky grandame, Wilson 1a rley moved slowly and a ppir rent 1 wha stand last andl lately, and sair ly forlain ? 'lis the poor dowie laddie-the witherless bairn. without thought Or design as to where his steps The initherless bairnie creeps to his lane bed, should bring tim; yet from his seanty clothing Nasno covers his e suit iik, norbah pbihare head, 171k wee hat-ift ui-les ae hard as the aii n, Ore would haveou1ghit the swe-pinrg 1wind, 8in And hthless the lair o' the witheriesi tairn " sha p and frosty, would long before this hav wILin Tiron admnitlied himl) of the prtopriety of haifteii The twilight of Christmas eve! To happy his steps towarls a slater ing homr; but wi l childhood this is a cha ried hour ! Geitle lov- men and vwmen, biy s a nd girls, fl w past h im, ing spirits seemed flitting hither and thither, his- drawing teicir coats iand (loaks, nulelrse 1s ina1 pering ia eager oars of gilded to ys, vonders of vevils closer at every step, somrtimus jostrig h picture-books and sweet things-the very thought nearly off, theI pivoeent, the li ti fllow wv onhI of which last make the rosy mouth wi ater ! And regain his plaeo anl keep ni i ttone iii iadreon! Stinta Claus, the dear old fur-clad, rough-visagedIt Inhis yung miid there wais lne pictr o V hicb flow, with all is kindness of heart, is it not would giv e place tio nothing el,-ai-t iill, el bt strange that he should contire his visits to t lose frm stretch twi thin hit Nilt stained p'in coi ini households where kutid parents, and, perhaps, the white lids filled reposing!y po Ilt 1 ht b i, brothers and sisters, smile lovingly upon the happy which could noitur le ive to a heart-I h ro b 1 faced, merry-hearted little ones 1 A selfish spre joy or grief; the stiffelned feet, vi Ich hid toi lie is, after all, very earth-like ini the distributinitt i ftn draigd with wariness, lay colirh- aid of his favors; he seeks not the homue of poverty still, cloe sti-d by side-the face rcompojitsel, t x. and sorrow ; andi thre little street wiaintderer, whlt presittite, de, ri-sted upi the hard elt1 i is there in that purple face, with the actimulated Couch prepared lflr the paper's biturial, as ib ftl tear stains upon the hollow cheeks and upon the its it would havo rented upon a pillo v of dm a n1 eyes so large, telling sad tales of suffering ; what softiress. is there in iall this to attract a jolly old iouil, who Sometirmes the childs breath mie lup w if b delights in the free ringing laugh of chilli-en ? sob) as mentally he gazed n p this pictiur', Iut Maybe he is provident, like manry a benevolently there were rio tears in his hi-avy ei-! I 'or inclined mortal, and so avoids the by-ways ant minry days the fountatin had bint dry, nl e i disial corners, fearing if lie comiences in giving when that liAst breath was idrwii, and he kitew where not tire smallest comfort is possessed, the that he was tiotherless-witmeit for holii meeting of even pressing necessities will too soon friindloss, hiomi-elets-he remembered whli at til exhaust his store. mother had told iiit, forio Ire ha l herr her onil But he and his similitudes have to learn that nu(rse,-aI while his little heart was bre- thing little blue hands or feet are no colder, because a with aguony, he pressed down the lids -v-r the ood ctat wraps a little shivering forn. or that a eyes already giizirig in de ith, ard coimposed t well-filled stonmich would take the frosty air no limbs which Althad told hitm must soon grow more unbearable. Whether this old Christmas cold and stiff. sprite Las or has not any thought for the desolate It must have bern very hard for a foIid, l iing of earth, he sends not his little invisible emissa. child of eight years old to take his first lesson int ries to foretell his mysterious visits during those such sad duties by the death-bed of the only still hours when bright eyes are sealed with friend the earth contained for hin; his mother slumber. . had realized that it must be very hard, yet there Y i i :' 1i 5 )) _8 7 .' d i 3 t 1 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. l page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] } e r i r .E{frr _ .fr" fr ' r3 t ff i 4r l" S e f t f , Y i ,, very road they had just come; and one of them half sighed as he remembered his own numerous family, whose daily necessities depended upon hi labor; his death would leave them as homeles as this poor little one, and almost as friendless; bur as he passed out of their sight, the two turn- ed away to pursue their work ; and all that long, cold day Wilson Harley passed slowly up one morning-the morning before Christmas-as is street snd down another, paying alike heed to I usual out of consideration to sensitive natures cold, hunger and the thousand pedestrians who which might be shocked at sight of such a fune- passed and jostled him on his way. How much ral procession, the men had received their orders longer he might have kept on his slow, hopeless, to carry off the body at the earliest possible aimless walk, he could not himself hav told, but hour, never heeding the remonstrances of friends' a lumbering policeman suddenly brought him to who might linger near it, for to them it could a stop by half stepping and half stumbling against make small difference whether the body, was the child, and so nearly brought himself flat upon taken at dawn or midday. She had been a pau. the pavemeht. per, supported by the city-she must be buried at With an oath the man bade the boy get out of an hour most agreeable to that city. Fortunate- his way, and when he remained standing, in his ly, it made no difference to the child, Wilson, that bewilderment scarcely understanding how he had I THE MITHERLESS fIAIRN. 20 THE MITIIERLESS BAIRN. was no other to perform these last offices, and the cold, glaring sun was scarcely an hour high her sensitive nature shrunk from having them when theii backs were turned upon his mother's left undone; so day after day she had gone on grave; time or circumstances c auld have no in- preparing her boy for the hour which must fluence over his grief, and he was only aroused come-the time when he would be alone-and from his sad revery when one of the men laid his when at length the end came, he was as one hand upon his arm, saying: who had watched by many a death bed. But one night had he been left to care for his "We're back to your place, my boy; I spousee dead, then the city authorities had sent two rough You'll get out." but kind men with a rude coffin; they had lain Starting up and looking around him, the child the wasted form within its narrow home, had saw they had stopped opposite the miserable pile nailed down the cover, and then raising it to their of buildings in which he and his mother had been shoulders, the two had borne their slight burden housed during her long illness. There was no- to the street, where a cart was in waiting to thing for him there now ; the few necessities they trundle it away to the "Potter's Field." The had possessed had been provided by the overseers child had made no remonstrance, for he had been for the poor, so he had nothing now to expect prepared for this ; his mother had told him it but that he should, if found there, be taken to would be so, and when he followed the rough the poor house. This his mother had told him bearers out of the miserable place which had over and over again to avoid; her child she could sheltered him for many weeks, he knew that he not have mix with common - paupers; she, who was homeless-loveless. refused to receive the care of the low, miserable At first the men had objected to the child ac- woman who had been sent to nurse her, how, companying them,but when he paid no heed to their could she think of her pure-minded child mixing remonstrances, but silently climbed into the cart with those to whom vice is as familiar as "house- and seated himself upon the foot of the coffin, hold words." What must be his end, unprotected they were awed by the little fellow's silent grief, as he would be when she was gone? the mother and permitted him to have his own way. One had often said to herself in agony, and although had said to the other: the answer had ever been, "the home of a pauper "He won't hinder us, poor child! he's so quiet, or starvation," she had taught him to shrink and if it is any comfort to him, we'll let him go, from the poor-house as from a plague ; and now though it 'pears to mo it 'ud be small comfort when nothing else could be remembered, the boy to see a mother lugged off in this way! I tell forgot not how his parent had shuddered at this you it's sad work, this of our'n, Tom," and with one fear, and he determined to avoid it. this the two men took their places upon the side The rough, honest men' wondered where the of the cart, and drove off towards the place pro- poor orphan was going, when they saw him, in- vided for burying the poor. stead of entering the door, pass back over th.- 21 1'- -..._ r . ....e..__. ._...... - _ - - J 1, l' - I been the cause of the angry fellow's mishap, the official exclaimed- " Begone, you little rascal, or I'll have you ta- ken to the lock-up ; begone, I tell you, you little vagabond, and don't letme catch a glimpse of you again to-night; if you do, I'll put you where you'll be safe from playing such tricks as this. Do you hear me, eh ?" and he grasped the little fellow by his shoulder and shook him in a furious manner. Wilson did hear, and young as he was under- stood what was meant, though he did not an- swer a word; had he done so, he would probably have been lugged off to the police station without hesitation, but as he had not been even guilty of answering the officer, the latter understood fully the impropriety of carrying such a child away without the least grounds for complaint against him, for the jostle, which had infuriated him so greatly, had been his own fault and not the boy's; this he knew. very well, and so Wilson was left to enjoy his freedom. But this little incident had aroused him to the necessity of seeking some place of shelter, for the next one who should take notice of him might not allow him to pass as well as had this one. The hour was already late, and in that large, cold city there was no heart or house in which Wil- son felt he had a claim; yet to save himself from being sent to that home for the homeless, the friendless, he must find some coner in which to hide himself away. He was now upon one of the handsomest streets in this large city, and just as these thoughts were flitting through his mind, and he was looking timidly about for some covert place in which to creep, he espied by the flicker- ing light of the street lamps that he was standing opposite a fine house fronted by a latticed veran- dah. In an instant he thought this might be as comfortable and secure a place as he should find, and no one could object to his making his bed outside the door; within the porch he felt along the sides until he came to the part most shelter- ed, and was just preparing to crouch down for the night, when the unbolting of the door made him shrink close to the wall; with a savage growl and bark a dog sprang out and immediate- ly the door was closed again, and plainly he heard the bolts and locks secured. The poor child now trembled with terror, ex, peeting the instant he should be discovered by the animal to fall a victim to his rage ; by the dim light he saw that his size was enormous, but now his growling had ceased, and the old fellow was snuffing anxiously towards the corner in which Wilson was trying to conceal himself, and to the boy's surprise he came slowly towards his nook, and after smelling around him fora moment, the noble fellow stretched himself by the side of the boy, all the time giving low glad whines and licking the hands and face of the motherless out- cast in a way most expressive of fondness. Soon the poor child lost all terror of his new companion, and drew his shivering form more closely to the warm shaggy coat, and with his head resting within the huge paws of the animal, this boy of eight years old recalled to mind the assurances which his mother had so often given him, "that God would never leave him utterly friendless." For the first time since his mother's death, the child raised his heart to Heaven in prayer, and then with the breath of his new friend falling so warmly upon his face, he sank into a heavy sleep. During all the cold dark hours of that night, this boy, who had never before gone to his bed- mean though that bed might have been--without a mother's kiss upon his lips, without a mother's hand to tuck the scanty covering around his cold back, slept as one wholly exhausted, dreaming of that mother who could no more feel the griping hand of want. 'It was not surprising that he should sleep, for his watch by his mother's bed- side had been a long and faithful one; besides the exposure to cold with the fasting and grief had been more than enough to exhaust his childish strength ; but the early dawn of day brought to poor Wilson a sad awakening; his strangely watchful bedfellow, with a gentleness which seemed to partake of intelligence more than ani- mal instinct, licked the heavy eyes of the boy as he moved uneasily, and just as the child half raised himself, looking around in a bewildered manner, the opening of the hall door helped him to recall something of the night before. " Neptune, dear old Neptune, where have you hid yourself?" was shouted in a clear, childish voice, and immediately the speaker, a little girl so lithe and joyous, danced out upon the veran- dah. " Merry Christmas, you old rogue; see what Santa Claus has brought you!" and the little fairy held up in her hand a silver collar, bright and new. The dog raised himself upon his fore paws, but made no move to approach the little one, who was evidently his young mistress, and in this half sitting posture he quite concealed the slight form which nestled at his side. Coming forward, the child cried out: " You lazy Neptune, have you no eyes that you don't see this; you had no stocking to hang up, so Santa Claus put it into mine; conic, hold up Your head, and let me trny it on you ! .:_ The coffin was lowered into the pit prepared for it, and many another one, and throwing in a few shovels full of dirt, the party turned away with- out a word. A moment the child lingered, but the men were not willing to leave him, and one of them taking him by his slender arm drew him along to the cart, and thus the funeral ceremonies of this mother ended. This had been at early page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. The little girl had got as far as the dog's side, and was just about trying the new collar on his beautiful glossy neck, when she made the discoi- ery that her pet was not alone ; although she was startled, there was nothing in the boy's sad face to alarm her. "What have you here, dear Neptune ?" she asked, as she allowed her arm to rest upon the noble animal's neck, and not satisfied with the only answer the dog was able to give, a low whine and delighted wagging of his tail, she ex- claimed, regarding the companion of her dog in a half kindly and half curious way: "Who are you, little - boy ? did Santa Claus bring you to Neptune? ain't you cold, it seems so cold out here, and see, your back is all covered with snow! What is your name? come, why don't you speak, what made you sleep out here with my dear old Neppy ?" The boy had regarded the little speaker very earnestly, as she had asked question after ques- tion, not giving him a chance to answer, had he been inclined to, and when at last she paused, he had raised himself to his knees, and with a hand resting upon the dog, he said: " My name is Wilson Harley, and I slept here with your dear, beautiful dog, because it was so much warmer than in the street." "The street," was the child's answer; "Oh! you'd freeze in the street, I'm sure ; but why didn't you go home ?" "I hadn't any home to go to, and I was afraid to stay out any longer." The voice in which this was spoken was very tremulous. I " No home ! where does your father stay, and haven't you any brothers and sisters, nor mother either ?" asked the little girl, bending towards the kneeling boy. " I never had a father, nor brothers nor sisters, and they buried my mother yesterday ; I haven't got any one to care for me." "They buried your mother! what for? wasn't she good, and didn't you love her ?" This was too much for the poor orphaned boy. The day before, with all his grief he had no tears t shed, but the sympathetic questioning of one so near his own years, so touched his little heart, he had no power of controlling his emotions, and hiding his face upon Neptune's shaggy back, he sobbed out: " Mother, oh ! mother, mother !" "Was she so good? did you love her ever so much? then what did they bury her for I if she'd been my mother, they shouldn't 'a buried her; I wouldn't let any one have my mother if I had one; but I never had any-there, don't cry any .more, little boy,-did you ever see Santa Claus ? ah ! he brought me such heaps of pretty things, and just gee this collar he brought for old Nep- tune-dear old Neppy-won't-he look nice ! his hair so black, and this bright as it can be." " Hetty, where are you, Hetty ?" called a voice from the door. " It's my fathe"-said the child, springing to- wards the door-" Here I am, father, come and see this little boy--such a strange thing-he says he's no home, and nobody to love him, and old Neptune, father, I can't call him away from this poor little fellow." "What are you doing here, you little vaga- bond ?" exclaimed the tall, hard looking mart, the moment his eyes fell upon Wilson. "Get out of this, you little thief-aut of this, before I kick you." The boy started up, but when the speaker ap- proached menacingly, the dog, Neptune, seemed inclined to stand protector to the little intruder aga net his master, for be uttered a low growl, keeping himself between the angry man and child ; nor did the dog prove the only one inclined to start in the defense of' the stranger. The girl, Hettie, said with a good deal of firmness for one so young- "le ain't a thief, father ; what makes you call him so? if you should touch him, I think Neptune would bite you. No, father, you shan't touch him"-exclaimed the little one springing for- ward as she saw her parent clench his fist; but there was no need for theinterference, for the dog still kept his place between his master and the little stranger, and his growls were really be- coaning threatening. As to Wilson, for very terror, he had not spoken ; but seeing his two new friends so staunch it his defense, gave him courage. "I ain't a thief, sir;. Inever stole anything in my life; my mother always told me it was very wick- ed. I wouldn't aslept here if I had known it would make you so angry ; if you went strike me I'll go away this minute ." The boy's gentle, earnest way of speaking, seemed to have a soothing effect upon the hard, angry man, or at least acted as a check upon his movements, for when the poor little fellow pass- ed very near him to go down the steps, he made no demonstrations of violence towards him. Still the dog kept his place between the two, and when his master made an effort to call him him back, he stopped, looked around and then followed the child into the street. Hattie smiled triumphantly, for well as she loved her pet, Nep- I M 22 i THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 23 tune, she had taken such a strange fancy to this This was said by good Mrs. McDonald, as, for little boy she was more than willing to see the old the twentieth time, she raised her anxious fate fellow follow him away ; but she understood her from her work and looked up the roiad ina the di- parent's temper too well to express her willing- rection from which she expected her husbatad. ness in anything but glances. Running into the Her halt dozen little children partooak of their house, she flew out of the back door and down, mother's anxiety, all saving the baby of three an alley, by which her new acquaintance must months old, who slept sweetly ill its cradle j11t pass in his way, for if her dog had determined to by her side. have a new master, she had resolved he should " Dinna be iu a worry 'bout the boy, Mary; not go without his new collar. he's weel clad and strong, besides his aint a But a moment she had to wait for the two, for whining nature. I'll warrant he hasn't haid a in spite of her father's effort to get him back, thought of the cold all day lang, if lhe found at good Neptune held to his strange fancy, and followed market for his load." close by the side of the lonely, motherless one. "But he'll have to face the wind all the way You aint had any breakfast, have you ?" ask. home, mother, and aln east wind too. If I coubal ed Hottie of Wilson, as the two came up- " I oly take a part of the hardships off his shtouli- knew you hadn't, so I snatched these rolls from ders; but poor David! instead of doing that, I ao the table. as I ran through the kitchen; and, Nep- continually adding to his cares. Oaar family is tune, you shan't go away without your new col- getting very large, mother, aad I can do vry lar-dear, good Neppy-you'll always love him if little besides taking care of our children; ad lays I let him go home with you, littleboy my father a baby i my arms, though we have a heart full never likcd him, and I know, by the way he look- of have fiar each one, even before their eyes opaan ed at him this morning, he'll give him such a apon us; Ioften wonder my poor husband's hin t whipping if he stays, and then I shall be so mad- don't fail him." I always am nmad when any one abuses him, and " But maay soaa, never caomaplaius, Mary, nao father strikes or kicks him so often-you'll never much as by a look !he's wel anad hearty, ad w ill be cruel to him; promise me, and then I'll let naever yhameo his wai hr by m aruriang while sIr- you go- rounded by such blessings as fill his hoe;a what Wilson promised, but at the same tinie he ex lot could be mair desirabale than to labor for such pressed his unwillinguess to rob the little girl of children ats ours and their waither; aur fainily is her favorite. large, Mary, but ntane too large.; you've nale ta But you shall take huan; I'd rather you Would, pare, aor would yoa he if aamay n ir are fer It) afraid father'll kill him if yoa dat; la to be gina woud. ll w arrant D)avid walA looked in such a way, I don't krow why, but I mind aae itlher aamuth to f ead, aad ats to y olr ail- know he's very ad. There, good-bye, Neptune, ig the lay, daughter, I agree wi hi I know you'll have a friend now, little boy, for he part is the naist try ng." loves you better thanhe does me; good-bye, both The iwif heauld no chance to a,wer this tart of you. I uust run ml, or fatheall aiss me and then he'll be i such a rage--remaember, I could'aat very kideiarko f her at hr-ia-ltw , for a have given you any darling dog, only to save hima xclandtieaa eorar e o.t iast t washm( from such a whipping."' Aan with this the yaad faher was in sight, and fro tgrandmtia to the range girl disappeared.,tottler of two years old, each had a hand in tie The day following, the papers contained an a- paepaatias far the recepioa. vertisement in iwlich a large reward was offered . Te daaton your cap, Jalanmhay, a ir are for the recovery of the dog ; but days and weeks passed, -and- at last the old master abandoned all your miatten, be at the gte ta tak(liltahefla laaora- hope of ever seeing t'h freakish animal again, w poor father, he iost nat t turt sg aa it which, as little Htettie had said, had noverI eana This wts the ather's c targ o har sion, and favorite with him. .Ithe boy slwed no reluaa tante i lobtey ing1, for hle' nomaeit the horses Stappeal he wits by their siale CHAPTER SECOND. and received the reie which his father threw Ier spirit, that passed in the our o'his birth, I out to hin. stall witathe haia lane, lorn wanidariangs oat etarata ; " e, mother !see, granalaai wha at a tbig dlag Wtatareln n v-a ni h o mthea aom father has brtauht haamae!" cried twat or three (wuzlia TaioM- little vaoices ia a breatha-"and moatther, maaathaer, "How the-wind does blow, and your poor father come and laoak he's got a baay toaa; had's its baig tat out in it all the day ("' Davie, but father's lifting htima ouit ina his armas.'" _ s' f page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] ;1 it F F y i t dt ! 1 0 f P.k P+ f i 24 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. By this time mother and grandma were at the are more than tempting to one half starving; as window with tne little ones, and sure enough usual, I expect you all went without your din- there was the stalwart farmer tugging along a ners because I was n't here, and won't object to boy, who for size one would have thought fully chicken pie and pumpkin pie, any more than I competent to walk, while just at his side, looking shall." up into the good man's face in such a sober anx- The family gathered around the well filled ta- ious way, walked a large beautiful dog. There ble, upon which the maid of all work had just was no time for expressing wonder or surprise; placed the enormous beautifully browned chicken Mrs. McDonald met her husband at the door, pie, and Alfter the never forgotten blessing had "Ever a smiling welcome, Mary, let me bring been asked, the farmer set himself about his duty whatever cares I may; poor child, he's quite in a way most conclusive of his satisfaction of senseless, and must have been dead very soon but the whole arrangement; but in spite of their for this noble dog-no, darling, the corner the hunger, and judging from their impatience for two farthest from the fire; any part of the room will hours before their parent's arrival, it was not be a great change from out of doors!" ,small, not one (if the children tasted more than a " Poor child, where did you find him David ?" mouthful or two, before commencing their ques- asked the tender hearted woman, as she arranged tions again, and demanding the promised story; a blanket upon a settle in the corner of the room and Jemmy, who had but just come in from the the most distant from the fire-" there, lay the barn, as the rest were gathering around the ta- little fellow down;'how came he in such a con- ble,.left his place to try his skill in making the dition ?" acquaintance of the beautiful dog which had re- " I can't tell you, Mary; he was as you now see slated the united coaxing and persuading of every him, perfectly insensible, when, by the singular other member of the family, keeping his place by movement of this dog, I was attracted to the the side ot his little master, and refusing to taste spot where he lay. I felt it almost wrong to add a morsel of proffered food, or even give a grate- another care to yours, already too numerous, but ful glance to the one that ofered it. But al- I could not leave the child in such a place; he though the dog allowed the gentle caresses of was in the "Potter's Field,"' near one of those the boy, yet he would not turn his fine sober face half filled holes, where they bury the poor-there, away from that child's, so pale and still. that covering will be sufficient; poor boy, his sto- "Is it not strange " remarked the mother, as ry mast be a sad one. I was right, was n't It they allwatched what success little Jemmy should Mary, to bring him home ?" have-" isn't it perfectly unaccountable that one The wife answered her husband with one so destitute should possess such a beautiful dog; glance of her teary eyes, for the sight of the poor and that collar, one would think, pure silver, it little sufferer, so near the age of her own chil- looks so bright and new I' dren, touched her mother's heart. Each little "Oh ! yes" cried Jemmy, who had been examin- McDonald had his or her question to ask, but at ing this ornament with great care, "it is marked last the farmer silenced all further inquiry by Neptune, a gift from Santa Claus, Christmas, telling them that as soon as the little stranger was 1838--that is to-day, mother - only think it was properly cared for, and they seated at their put on to-day : I do wonder how he got such a Christmas supper, he would give them the little pretty collar for his dog, and his clothes so mean, fellow's history, as far as he knew it. But all not half so good as Davie's and mine"-and Jem- this time hands had been very busy preparing re- my was not the only one who thought it a mys- storatives; Mrs. McDonald had relieved the child tery. of his miserable wet shoes, and set one of her "4You'said you found the poor boy in the Pot- children-her little six year old Mary-chafing ter's Field-how ame you to pass so far out of the cold feet, while she went on removing the your way, David; could you tell us now about t ittered garments, and wrapping the slender it ? for I must acknowledge myself as curious as bloodless limbs in warmer flannel. Then grand- one of the children-" . ma, with her cup of hot whisky and water, bent "Yes, all I know I will tell you, th-ugh if it is over the child, and after pouring many a teaspoon- as unsatisfactory to you as it is to me you wont full into his moith, they at last had the satisfae- thank me for my story. To begin, you must tion of seeing him swallow, know what detained me to such an hour ; as I " Now he'll do to be left alone for a time,'' said expected when I left home, I disposed of all my the farmer-"just let him come to by degrees, load yesterday, getting through in time to get while we have a taste of these good things which your stock of groceries, and thought with satis- " And where did you find the boy and the dog, father? tell us about that now, I'm tired of the other." found him don't look don't look as though accustomed to such say, Mary, was I to' "So was I, Davie, my son, but I had to bear it ships by thus adding patiently, and if you do, we will arrive at the 'py "No, oh no, avid and dog in time. It was noon when I was once more ready to make a start, and now I had to poor little one! it in drive round to see the youngster's father ; it was own darlings." full two miles out of my way, but I found a real The mother's voi gentleman ; he paid all costs without a word of "Mary never th complaint, but only expressed regret that I had a'ways for you she i been put to so much delay and trouble all through like an o'er warked his son's carelessness at first, and then that he sleep frae anxiety fo should compell me to go all that way to get my for ever thinking o' rights ! He asked my name and where I lived, puir little laddie t and then directed me the nearest way to get into mithler by hollow oh my road home, which way took me by the Pot- nies ever be left to ter's Field; and now, Davie, for the boy and dog. now, Dochter, was: Just as I came along side of this sad place, I no- of your babies would ticed that beautiful dog, standing back in the field feed ? I ken him m a little distance, his head up and he evidently ever set eyes on hin watching- for some one to come along the street; was never p'er th mine was the first team that had passed that way the comforts which to-day, I knew from there being no track in the could ever enjoy rig flurry of snow which fell last night. I think all can the chicken ani avoid the street, for it is a gloomy, neglected spot. ain careful hands hi ~he moment the animal saw me, he looked for Both son and dam atminstant upon the ground by his side, and then last fond but half s ran for the road some distance ahead of me, mer's enjoyment of where he stood waiting directly in front of the turned their attenti horses when I came up, and not a step would was now fast imp he stir from the middle of the road till I stop- whisky, given wit much like it, but that dog his master had long been lodgings. Now what do you o thoughtless of your hard, to your cares ?" ! Ile can have no mother; ight have been the lot of our 'e trembled with emotion. inks of hersel, David: its s anxious, but you dinna look lad, nor as though you lost r your bairns. While ye are each other and such as that there, yell nae shame your eeks, nor will your ainu hair- want. What do you think I right in saying the father dn't mind anither mouth to Many a year, Mary, before ye in, and its nae much to say he toughtful o' himself, though were placed before him he ht heartily, as e'en now he d pumpkin pies which your ave prepared." ughters-in-law smiled at this portive allusions to the far- the dinner, and all once more on to the little stranger who roving. G andma's Scotch h all her Scotch kindness THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 25 faction as I was going to bed that I should be pad and got out of the sleigh ; then he whined able to reach home before noon to-day ; but al- and sprang upon me, afterwards running though I got up at a very early hour and tucked a few steps towards the spot where I had at first myself very comfortably into my sleigh, I wasn't seen him standing, and when I didn't follow, destined to get on without mishaps. Just as I back he came moaning pitifully and going through was driving through Main street, two dashing with the same movement again; at last I turned youths came up with a pair of prancing horses, my horses to the fence and followed the strange and esignedly or carelessly, it was difficult to animal; his expressions of joy were most boun- tell which, ran so close to me as to have our tiful as he walked close at my side, but soon he tackling become entangled. Both pair of horses ran forward, seemingly confident that I would became almost unmanageable, and before we could follow, and when he came up to his standing get into any thing like order, my harness was point stopped and seemed wholly absorbed in much broken, and one of the whippletrees; there something upon the ground, and very soon I discov- was nothing for me, of course, in such a matter, ered that poor boy laying perfectly senseless by but to wait for them to be mended ; but not feel- the side of a partially filled grave. To leave the ing willing to pay for the carelessness of the little fellow there was out of the question, he young rogues, I told them they must meet the bill must soon be dead in such a place-to take him of the harness maker as well as the blacksmith's. to the poor-house seemed little better; from whit At first they stood off, then said they had'nt any I have heard I should prefer that a child of mine money ; but as I didn't seem inclined to let them should be left to die-so what could I do but off, one of them, the most decent one, told me carry him to my sleigh, wrap him as well as who his father was and where I would find him, I was able in the horse-blankets and bring him and when I had made sure he had spoken the here to share in our home. He may possibly truth, I let the scamp go." have friends, his clothes and the spot where I ,,, .; ' x ° 3 4 7 i i ¢4 d f page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] X26 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. ,' z and caution, was working beautifully, ann all had been done so gradually they had rea son to hope the marks of his suffering would not be very lasting. As to the children there was just mystery enough about the new comer to make hiMn a hero in their young imagin- ations, and add to this the admiration they all felt for the beautiful dog, Neptune, they were all in a very interesting state of excitement. The noble animal, now that they had discovered his name, seemed much inclined to acknowledge the little folks as acquaintances, but not a morsel of food could they prevail upon him to take until he saw his young master eating of the smoking chicken broth which grandma had prepared with her most skillful hand; then with half an eye upon the recovering Wilson, he took the offered dainty bits from one hand and then from another with a care that told he was accustomed to this delicate way of being f; d. When Wilson at last opened his eyes and look- ed about him enquiringly, every little mouth gaped with curiosity, but the better judgment of the farmer and his wife forbade it being satisfied that night. " Here is your dog, my poor little boy; you see you are among friends ; all you can be per- mitted to say to-night is, tell me what we are to call you! " There was something so tenderly, mother- like, in Mrs. McDonald's voice as she said this it made the poor child feel that lhe was not alone; he remembered the morning, how he had been driven from the porch of that elegant city home by that cold, hard man, who seemed at enmity even with his dog; how doubly desolate had he felt as he turned his step towards his mother's grave, praying in his little heart to die; but for the dog Neptune he might, perhaps, have be- lieved he had changed worlds, so different did everything seem about him, so beautifully kind was every face, and the voice of that mother-it was like what he might have imagined in angels. But the presence of his noble dog, regarding him with such anxious affection, was sufficient evi- dence to the child that he was still on the earth. "Wilson Harley is my name-my mother called me Willie," was his answer to Mrs. McDonald's inquiry as to what they were to call him. Even the half wild Jemmy and Davie were struck with the musical softness of his voice ; a moment more his large eyes were fixed 'upon that sweet mother's face which bent over him, and then he added: " You may call me Willie; when you spoke it d made me happy, it sounded like my mother-will - you call rue Willie?" " Yes, my child we will call you Willie, if you wish it; now shut your eyes and don't speak any more; you are not well, Willie, and we can't let - you talk to-night; if you are better in the morning ' you may speak all you like." The child lay shutting and opening his eyes in a languid manner like one wholly exhausted and riot anxious ever to make another exertion, and at last his half dreaming vague thoughts of his r loved mother and that over bending face became l so happily combined in his mind, he felt no longer motherless, friendless, homel ss, and he fell into a quiet refreshing sleep. The shadows of evening were gathering in this farm home, and the father, with his boys Jernmy and Davie, put on coats, caps and comforters, and went to the barns to attend to the feeding and caring for their sleek, well kept stock; while the mother and grandma turned their attention to the little household matters, to making everything cheery for the evening; so only the younger chil- dren lingered near their little visitor to watch him and his beautiful Neptune. No sooner dii the dog see his master sleeping, than he stretched himself upon the floor, his face toward the settle, and with his nose resting upon his outstretched paws, he watched the child with half closed eyes. It was a most lovely sight, such an one as might have charmed others than the McDonalds, but im their minds they were already forming plans for the grandest sport, in which Neptune and Willie were to figure largely ; for front the good old Scotch grandmother to the six-year old Mamy, every mind was made up as to Willie really be- longing to them; and it was not surprising that the novelty should have its charm for the little ones, for not a half dozen times in the whole year were they accustomed to being assisted in their snorts or studies by any one outside their little circle, and each one had determined Willie should be made the happiest boy in the world. The little earnest Mamy, as she sat upon her little stool rocking the cradle, thought how she would show him all -her picture books and tell him the beautiful stories her mother had told her ; then to her mind he was just the boy to take some interest in doll-babies; if he would help her in caring for her numerous family what a nice thing it would be, for her only sister was this wee baby in the cradle, and her brothers had no fancy for such quiet fun; Jemmy didn't object to having a nice frolic with his sister's darlings if he could have it in his own way ; but nothing short of ship-wrecking a whole boat load of these I --- _ 2 L s 'i TILE MITHERLESS BAIRN. upon the duck pond, and rushing in to bring them to understand why children, who have been so out from the water soaked and dripping, or fondly loved, should be deprived of the (only beirg imraking the poor innocents the victims of capital nature his given them a right to look to for pro- punishinent, and so causig poor little Manry the tection and guidance. All the tine this orphaned incst excrrciatiig heart-sorrow. Nothing more one was telling his story, I seemed to seo (lur quiet than this would give this half wild boy the ow dear children fatherless, imotherless, homne- least satisfaction, so it was not surprising that the less. Oh, Daevid! were we to be taken from child was speculating upon the stranger's tastes them, their lot would be the sano as this little and wondering if he ever had a sister. stri.ger's; I have often thought of this, but nev- Jenny's and Davie's visions were of riding or did it come home to me as this ornelrting, down hill and how granrd it would be to have when listening to this story ; I knrOw it was very Neptune to aid them, better to their minids selfish, I felt it so; yet try as I would, I could inot than it ie was a boy ; then snow houses and forts keep my mind from our own darlings." and snow balling, in all these the two new covers "1It is as elfishness, Mary, that you need not be would be of the greatestimportance. ashamed of, that yo'i should not blaie yourself With the father the thought-how wias it to ain- for feeling ,efor what are thoso home loves given swerthis bringing into his well regulated famiily irs, if nt that our hearts, our sections, should Srnger-was conning up in his ird coitiui- 'centre here; oh ! no, lm sure we should yellow ally ; yet ie knew that he had acted towards the these home affections to sie further upon these unfortunate onte as he would wish another to act outside oer little circle ; as to our children let utr towards his own children were they ever to be hope they will never be orphaned, but should left destitute, and he believed it would all turn they be, the same Father, who has tiken care oef eeut well, but that there would be something of' this poor little fellow, will care for theme ; it trial and perplexity attending this new charge ie would be a great heart sorrow to know they must could not doubt-, and from one source above did look to any (other than ourselves for protection, he look for strength and wisdom to perform this yet were they to be orphaned, and was i thonie new duty faithfully,. as good as this to be thrown open to them, we With the tender, loving mother the one ear- would not feel that our trust had been im vonie, nest thought-he was motherless-she w ould be Mary. We can't see how these things should be, to him a mother, put everything else out of her why those who have it within their reach should m rtind. There was no question, could she over- be struck down, while hundreds perfectly useless look little peculiarities, could she pardon faults are left cummbering tire ground as it were. Ncr and caprices as in her own children, she re- is it necessary that we should understand thit solved to ,,l the place of that one who, from the further than to perceive that the Goed, wine 1di- fCw word the boy hod spoken, she knew had rects every thing, knows a thousand times better passed f-rom earth ; the same power which ena- than we call what is for our good and the good of blid her to perform, the faithful mrothe's part our children. Now this poor mother in her dying towards leer own chnddrin would aid her here. moment could see nothing in hr boy's future ibu The pious old grandmother cointenrplated the starvation, or that, so little to be preferred, the part each was acting with satisfaction. The poor-house. bi eight spirit of peace and love which regulated " Providence took its own way to bring the child her son's household made the aged woian feel to us-this icble leg's sudden attachment, his continu.lly.hto us-thisasnthe ugtsofuoene, oeutinually how sweet was the fr-nit oone s naster's brutality, and the little girl's freaekish Own labor. Such was the family into which this fancy, were all necessary to bring it about; then motheiless child had, by a protecting, guiding iny delay, at which, I ean assure you, I felt in fell poIwer, been cast. sh re of imrpatience-inr rio cone Of all these cw- - currences ihad chance any hancd each eeNe was CUArTER THIRD. necessary to the accomiplishiuent of this end, ande now ar he wrk estswit usandGodgiv- And ye are strong to shelter !-ali meek things, now, Mary, the werk rests with mis, finedeediv AIt that need honie and covert, love your shade! ineg us wisdom and strength, Pt child's coming Birs of shy song end low-voiced quiet springs ta i- And nan-like violets, by the wind betrayed ', amrog us shall prove a blessing t al HFIEMANS- terested." "This is a sad story, Mary ; almost too sad feer "I am sure it will prove a blessmg, Darvid- one to wish it to be true; yet one can't help be There are very few who would have felt it a dirty lieving it-" -to add this helpless stranger to a famniy already "Peor boy ! David, it's very hard for a mother large. Even those wino know nothing oef the I t L page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. anxieties of providing for those Heaven has given but we cannot help feeling this a very great re- them, would never dream of its being a duty to sponsibility." take in such an outcast to share with them their "The same responsibility, dear, that we have abundance; but you, who are compelled to count in bringing up our own children, no greater ! the every cost with such precision, did not for an in- one is ours just as much as the other; although stant hesitate as to how you should act." the child comes to us nearly naked, we can see " The child's condition when I found him he has had tender care, and although we should would allow of very little time being spent in de- ever act with caution where our children are liberation, yet after I had wrapped him up and concerned, I have very little fear of his compan- laid him in the sleigh I did think very seriously ionship; he will undoubtedly have some faults to of what I was doing-whether I had any right to be corrected, and you must deal with them ac. add this care to the hundreds which you have cording to yourmother's judgment, always having resting upon you; for, Mary, I am not blind to a care that your sympathy for him don't cause your trials and hardships, as this might declare you to overlook his short comings !" me to be.- I so often see you looking pale and "That never can be," was the wife's answer; tired, while yet a dozen garments are waiting to "with our own children, I ever feel they are be mended before you can get rest, tnd generally lent me by a Heavenly Fathet, and to him must your eyes are the last in the house to be closed, I stand accountable. With this boy I must con- no matter how heavy they may be from early as tinually have it in mind, his mother's eye is upon well as late hours. Yet feeling all this, Mary, me; I have taken her jewel into my keeping, and and knowing so well that every one most have it must be mine to preserve it pure and untar- just about so much done for him, I brought this nished. Oh ! could I have known her! could the boy to you; the work he will make you--the dear child give us any idea of her real position- care which, allowing he is the very best boy in of his father-his mother's family, it would be the world, he must require-this is all that is such a satisfaction ; but to have no family, no worthy of a thought. As to the expense, we relative, only this dead mother to remember, it is shan't know whether it has cost us anything or such a desolate thing for a child." I not at the end of the year; one other little mouth "sTake care, dear, take care; your Scotch to feed won't make a perceptible difference, and pride is at work now as well as your sympathy." since this exchanging of wool for cloth, the cloth- The husband said this playfully, but a moment ing for boys is not of much account; and now, after added soberly enough, "if we adopt the wife, is it settled that the little fellow has a boy, wife, he must adopt our family; teach him place with our children, that he is to have a place to hold his mother's memory sacred, certainly, in our hearts, too, as well as our home, for un- but at the same time he must feel our family is less this last can be there is no use in our taking his, whatever there is in it to be proud of, he has the work in hand?" his share the same as our own children; indeed, The wife's voice as well as her ekes were full from the time that he consents to stay with us he of tears as she replied: "He has found a place shall be one of our children; this shall be no half in my heart already, and I can't think we are do- way adoption." ing our children any wrong by taking another to "And his name ?" asked the wife. share with them their humble comforts. He was "He must take ours certainly, unless he should certainly dead to every one in the world, except object to it, which as a child he is not at all likely his dog, and, but for your care, must very soon to; but in taking it, he shan't drop his own., have breathed his last. We may feel that he is This would be more that other people should our own. Have we not a right to feel this? I cease to remember that he was ours by adoption believe we can soon bring health and happiness and not by birth, than that name should make to this mournful face. But the dog's conduct, any difference in his feelings or ours, for I have David; that puzzles me/the most. That it should no fear of you or the children ever giving him a take such a sudden fancy to a stranger is per- chance to feel himself an odd one. And now, fectly incomprehensible!" - Mary, I think we are perfectly agreed that the child is ours, providing of course that he accepts heartesess inomrhenitle girl's ilngestr' of our home and family as we offer it ; he won't heartlessness, or the little girl's willingness to be able to sit with us at dinner, so we will lay resign her dear old pet ?" askea the farmer- the matter before mother and the children; a' It is all very remarkable certainly, and as there will be no fear of objections, for while you say, David, we cannot set it down to chance ; mother looks upon me as a good natured, easy :1 - , ' . , i' f :' ' 'S i i 1t . I THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 29 laddie, she thinks you as nearly perfect as mor- For a very long time, almost ever since winter tal can be, and so on no account would she op- commenced, they had lived in this place, this pose us in our decision; as to our harum scarum child acting as nurse and housekeeper, then the boys, they will think this having a brother born mother had died, and the poor boy's time of des- large enough for a playfellow a grand thing, and olate grief had come, and when he had found him- I have an idea from the little fellow's quiet face self cast forth with bitter threatening words from that he will have a good influence over our good even the porch of the home of the wealthy, the spirited roisterers, and make all more compan- child had sought his mother's grave, there to ionable for Mamy than they are in the habit of breathe his last sigh; but the noble Neptune had being." saved him from that death which had well nigh This conversation between farmer McDonald claimed him for its own. and his wife, as the latter sat busy over her sew- This was enough to hear of so sad a history, ing, the forenoon following Wilson Harley's coin- but what a life for a child-only eight years old- ing taong them, did not occur until they heard and yet so thoroughly acquainted with care, anx- all that the boy know of himself, and this was iety and sorrow; to the father and mother of the little enough. His pale faced mother had ever well led, rosy cheeked McDonald children, this sittle hirenugh.nHisaefced enouh-areve was a picture too saddening to be gazed upon; since his remembrance secured enough-scarcely s itea hyke fct iei t iey more-to keep them from starvation and freez- 0ltl ste nwofct iei t iey ig by-doing sewing and embroidery; they had they thought it a solitary one, and in relieving it lived in one room, which the child thought very as far as they might, their minds never went out cheerful, it was so much nicer than those near to gaze upon the hundreds and thousads who it-always so clean-though his poor sweet iioth- would in want and misery form more than a par- eralways pressedher hand to heir side and looked allel to this heart-saddening case. At dinner the as though she was suffering, after cleaning and children received the announcement, that their as houh se ws sffeing afer leaingan parents had determined Willie should become scrubbing their little home ; he couldn't tell how their h er ined de shons o ie long this had lasted, a very long, long tiie, until their brother, with no y demonstrations ofpleas- she grew so weak that her child was allowed to ure and satisfaction. take her place in perturming this part of the Won't it be fun to have him to help us 1)1. household lbor, while she would sit by still busy Davie ?" exclaimed Jeuny ; "and I guess old with her iieedle, and telling the child what he did Neptune won't be slow to go too, and it's so nice not understand; and the little fellow said with a he ha n't anybody to ever come avid take him sad pride away from us-hurrah ! it's just what wo want- And the floor was almost as white, and our ed to make us the happiest fellows in the world." window almost as clear as when my mother di " Yes, and don't yo hope lie likes arithmetic it herself; but she did ntstop pressing her and too, Jen m y ; thi m s m a re so hl d, an i u to hr side, though when I would tell her so,Shan spelling class there'll be another one to get a above; wouhd try t h look so. well ! w now I don't want to go to seh l,, ur chl s 'il be large enough, Jeinny ; I say I wonler if moth. This last the child added. in such a mournful er 'll inie him go without his supper when he tone-then day by day that tell-tale imovemiient don't get his lesson ?" had grown more and more frequent, and every "Mother will treat all her boys alike, Davie, day the toiler's task with. the needle had been was the father's answer, as lie joined the mother found more difficult of performance, until at last and grandria in smiling at the boy's enthusiam. she could do no more; and when their last crust " and what hive you to say, daughter.? yoir e)fs disappeared, and the last article of furniture had don't look as though you felt wholly indilirent i been disposed of, she let a kind woman, who had the matter." sometimes been in to see them, go to a man who This the parent said as he caressed ono of the takes care of foiks when they can't take care of bright rosy cheeks of little Mary. Before the thenrmlves. At first this man, who was one of child could answer, Davie cried out: the overseers of the poor, had said he must take " Oh ! she is having her time now, father; don't them away to the poor house, but after seeing you think she's been telling him stories nearly all how feeble the poor woman was, a room adjoin- the forenoon, and I wouldn't wonder if mother ing the one which they had so long oIccupied-it had to send somebody to bed without supper tof- was much smaller, as well as dark and gloomy- night." was rented and the sick woman and her child " And there is where you are not like your sis- placed in it, with comforts few enough, yet suffi- ter, Davie; she was up a full hour before you cdent to keep them alive, this morning, and well were her lessons learned 'a , f 4 CIS jb. i fi page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 30 THE MITHERLES8 BAIRN. before you had opened a book: she seldom thinks loved and venerated as such an one can never of idle pleasure till her work is done, though we fail to be. wouldn't call it an idle pleasure the amusing and That afternoon Wilson Ilarly was quite well comforting of this mitherless laddie; and such a enough to leave his little bed, in which Ms Mc- wee tender-hearted thing as she is, I wouldn't Donald had thoughitit best for him to remain quiet have blamed her so very much if her lessons had during nearly all the day; this little bed had been been for once forgotten ; but I11 warrant shell made up in her own room, as it would have been eay every word, which may be mair than her for one of her own little ones if sick, that if her either will find all her bairns able to do, and care was required it could be had in a moment; somebody may be sent to bed without supper and here, during nearly all the forenoon, as Davie after all, which is nae very uncommon thing." had said, Mamy had amused and interested the "Oh! grandma, I have got my lessons most stranger with her very prettiest stories and her every word, if you mean me," cried thelittle fel- finest picture books, at thte same time wining low-" I shall have roy supper any how, for don't her way in the dog Neptune's love and confidence I know what we are to have; Sally alwutys tells to that extent that, had Jemmty or Davie b-en in me, and if it's anythingvery good, I lookout ! her place, he would have been quite wild wAith ees- , tcy at such sue~cess. Lavie, Davie, my son, I'm surprised at you!" t - .c, said the father, not able to repress a smile at the Wilson had enjoyed Mamy's company very boy's declaration-" so it's the supper and not much, yet lie was not sorry when Mrs. McDoniald the disobedience which you care for; mother will cant to tell him he night get ii for little timie, be compelled to look out for you in future!'' and come with the rest of the family around the bright, crackling fire in the pleasant sitting-room. The child tried to stammer out an explanation "I have' brought you a pair of uty little Davies at which all laughed, not seeming at all convinced stockings and trowsers to put on; your's aar not that there had been any mistake in his first as- quite comfortable, Willie. until I fix them a little; section. if you stay here you must have some clothes " What do you say, another, to our taking this warm and comfortable like Jenny's and Davie's. boy to be one of our family ?" asked Mrs. Mc- Do you think you would like to live with u, Dottald of the old lady. Willie, to be our boy, a brother to muy wild, noi- y -I think, Mary, it is like yourself to do it ; full childrnn, and call their parents father andi moth- o' tender care for those who need help; it is weel er? Do you thiak it would seemu like home, ty always to think o' the needy. Mary, but tnane little one ? should be mair tenderly remembered and cared Mrs. McDonald had seated herself upon the side for than apuir mitherless laddie like this ; your of the low bed, atd-as she asked this she suioothed work will bring its ain reward, for he is not an the dark neglected hair from the pale brow of illy tr ainad bairu to brimg among our am." the child in a tender way. The touch of that The good,,loving old lady never failed in ex- hand recalled the caresses lie had so often pressing her affectionate approval of all her received from his mother, but which could dauighiter-in-law's actions site Was ea (of those be his no more; and in spite of all the beings not as often found as one might wish-an kindness which the family had shown hun, the old woman satisfied that she had been young, had boy's heart was for a moment weighed down with enjOyed the pleasures and borne the trials and its load of desolate grief. His companion saw griefs of childhood, youth and womanhood, and those features working as if with aneflyort to press was tow old; and if those am-exrod her laughed down some emotion which was ready to burst when her heart was heavy and her soul weary, forth, but there was no need for her to question: she remembered the timne when ehe too had been her woman's instinct told her what had stirred joyous, and smiled at the remembrance. . She the little heart, tiid that lie would best overcome would not that her grandchildren would move its painful throbbimgs if left to himself she fully about with the . slow, pattering step of age, for understood; still her hand kept up that get- sIe remembered wben her xwn children were tle stroking of the hair, and in spite of herself a young, and she had loved the sound of their fly- tear drop fell from her cheek. But a moment inig feet as they now loved the music which their Vilson required to niastem his emotions, then'tak- oiwn darlimngs made in this home. Life still had lug that motherly hand he pressed kiss after kiss in it a sweet, quiet pleasure for her, and because upon it with a warmth thatleft no room for doubt shte was not as young as those about hem-, she as to his sincerity. wounld inot rejyct it; and by all her family she was ," I never had such a home as this, but I haid a i i i h THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 31 motherjust like you, only her sweet face was al- which never fails to interest a notherly woman. ways paler, and at last it was so thin and white- Her answer was calculeited to satisfy the little but her voice and her hand were just like youis- fellow, and then s c left him to wash and dress so motherly !" himself. "And would you like to stay here, Willie, and When the mother reached the sitting room she call me mother, and be loved by me as I love my fund every child waiting, eager to hear w hit own children?' Willie said about living with them, and when he Oh! I should love to stay, I have no borne, found he was more than satisfied with the ar- no one to love me, though now I can't feel so rangements, it was very difiult tor father,mother lonely as I did yesterday." and grandma, with united efforts, to keep then " You mustn't feel lonely any more, my little quiet enough that the child in the adjoining room Willie, you shall have a place with us, and ifyoit should not hear their boisterous rejioicings, wAhiili, will you shall call me mother, though mind, young as lie was. could not ftil to jpr upon his Willie, I don't want you to forget your own dear tfclit-gs. These uproarious densiitrati(is owere Mother who has gone to Heaven; you must often confined to tht two eldest boyS. MAm:zy lk di talk with me about ier, y ou niust tell tile every. very happy, and every moment her 4yes were turn. thing you can remember that she said to you, all ed towards the bed-rom door ; bit she was t: r1 her teachings and all the little stories she told very noisy ; their mother had told theit w0hat you, and in that way I shall come to know her, Willie had said about the dhg taking tothe lit and you will be much happier; I tam sure, Willie, girl, but Jeimy declared hle wasn't Ithe stupid i1 we shall all grow to love each other very much ; fellow to be sticking to girls with (ill-babies, but I had a little baby dieoice, had lie lived ie would would after awhile nitichi rather N with hiimt and have been just about as old as you; now, I ami Davie to eijoy their 1. i (]a3s. going to look upon you as that baby so miuch Willie's entrance interrupted the conxverten, grown up, and after you get used to iy boys y1u and the noisy itmirth if the by w xas hushed is will like them very much; they make a great deal as they looked uponi that younlug moiutritifl te; of noise, for they have never had anything to but after a tinei they ventuied to ask about l s trouble then, but if you get tired of their noisy dog, and to coax and pet the old fo low ; Ibt hw play, our little Mamy, with her story and picture received their atteitioit x ith bare' cn ilty-all bIt books, and her more itiet sports, and the young- Mtmy's--she, it was esident, had in sime nuaier er children, and then your lessons, all these will found the way to the dog's affections , but ithow give you occupation and amisement-don't y ou she had been sosuccesful no one coiuhltell, till- think, Willie, that you will learn to be content lesS Willie's stiphosition was corret, that tlit with us?' re malice of his4 oung itistiess tmidi tie The little fellow had no voice to answer, Le aiiual partial to little gitls, X hieh seemed cr) could only press kiss after kiss upon that hand prIbalble. which had in it such a motherly touch. - You need not try to answer me iow, you are not strong enough to bear much excitement; now I'll go out for a few moments and you ay dress Never had a faiher don his duty, and Lved to be dei- , . piseri ofhIs "oil. yourself; don't put on your coat, but throw this AW I of iemi mantle of Davie's around your shoulders ; the Consider tim station of thy son and tr dim t 1 r tune with judgmentt" Tr wo ni. boys arc very anxious to have not only you hut your beautiful dog out among theii, it is strange Eight years passed over the McDonald homne that he can't be coaxed from your side when he so quietly, that but for the shooliig up of the has known you so short a time." bright healthy children, onoe could hi dly hare ''Pear Neptune-good Neptune !" believed a half of that time had glided a way ; the As Wilson said this the anintal placed his paw firmiter looked not a yetir older, his wife often tldI upon the bed and rubbed his face against that o htim he was younger in face and mtner tha his young master. when their children were gathered around flum, "lHe loves Mamy very much; every time she such a little helpless crowd; now five pronmising comes in he looks happier, and when she goes sns from twenty years O ag owni to the mist ount he whines as though he felt sorry. Don't convenient ten year old, filled the place otf the you think it is because he has been used to a little nocisy household group of eight y ears of tige, girl as mistress ?" while the six year old Mary hatd grow tt a tall hiut This the boy asked with childish earnestness, very shy girl of fourteen, and her hiahy ster had page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 0 32 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. become the pet plaything of every member of the family, a sweet romping child, loving and beloved by everybody. From Mrs. McDonald's face, one was inclined to say not only years but care had touched her lightly, and mother never looked upon her grow. ing family with a more heart-felt gratitude than did this faithful worker. Nor was it only youth and those in vigorous life that time had spared ; still the quiet grandmother was there to smile upon the p-osperity of her children, and her grand children, some of them grown quite to manhood, knew no greater pleasure of an evening than to gather in grandma's room and listen to some story' of her girlhood, when her home had been far, far away, in that land of real Lairds, which no true Scotch heart, while it has a throb of life, can cease to remember with a child's devoted love; and none loved these little gatherings more than did Wilson Harley, now known to the family and all their friends as. Willie McDonald; with the other children he was often declared "grandma's favorite. But she had no favorites in her affec- tions, though Willie's never-failing attention to her every little want, made her depend upon him more than upon any other one of the family, and his voice was so clear, although it had become quite difficult for her to hear common conversa- tion, she never lost a word he said to her, though he didn't speak half so loud as did the other boys; on this account, Willie was nearly always the dear old woman's reader, and of winter evenings there was nearly always to be found a little party of three, in the snug little room, grandma occupying her old-fashioned high-backed rocking chair, and her " eternal knitting" as Jemny called her never failing knitting work, occupying her fingers; near herjut beside the little table, Willie with his book had his place, and opposite him, busy with her sewing, Mary was nearly always found; but this did not make up the whole of the little cir. cle; laying at the young girl's feet, upon a com- fortable cushion, was the old dog Neptune. He had become a veteran indeed, but the tender care he had received had kept him hale and hearty, in spite of age, and no one di-puted tme- good old fellow's right to lay at Mary's feet, let her choose her seat wherever she might; the moment he saw her settled, with his comfortable cushion in his mouth, he would walk-with not exactly the elastic step of a young dog, for his limbs were considerably affected by rheumatism; and it was in consideration of this slight ailment, that he was honored with a cushion-but his gait -and manner had in them much of sober dignity, as he would move across the room, and after deposit- ing the cushion in a satisfactory style at the feet of the young girl, he would stretch himself upon it, his soft clear eyes, as they were opened and shut lazily, speaking cf his heart full of content- ment. Such was the family which filled the very com- fortable home of farmer McDonald, and never for a moment had any one felt regret that the homeless Wilson Harley had found a place in their home as well as in their hearts on that bit- ter Christmas afternoon long years ago; yet in the minds of all the McDonald'stie motherless Wilson had become completely lost in their own brother Willie, loved not a grain less because he was brother and son by adoption instead of by birth. "What are you looking for, Mary, child ? You have stood at the window well nigh an hour and not a word have I heard you speak in all that time. Are you expecting any one, dearie, that your eyes have not been turned to the right or left this long time ? " " Father must be coming'soon, grandma, and I was watching for him." " And why she uld you watch so steadily, Mary; it's nae sae uncommon a thing for him to gang awa' that ye should be sae anxious, my bairnie ! " " But, grandma, father has gone to the city to see about a place for Willie ; I heard him talking with mother and Willie before he went away this morning ; Mr. Phelps has for a long time been offering a place in his store to one of the boys, and to-day father has gone there to decide whether he will accept it, and I heard him say it was just the business for Willie." " Your faither is right, Mary. Willie is a right smart laddie, but nae just sae strang to be put to books like Jemmy or to farming as Davie; he must ha' something that will tax mind and body alike, and a merchant house must be of that kind. Why dinna ye answer, my bairn, are ye displeas- ed that your father should think of sending the laddie awa' to the city ? ' There was something of trembling in the voice which said : "No grandma, you know I would not think of being displeased with what father and mother thought best to do; but wont it be very lonesome to have Willie go away? We shall all miss Jernmy very much, and- I have been sad enough when I remember how close at hand the time is for him to go away ; but to have Willie go too, it will be so lonesome we shan't know how to live, and I'm sure I don't know what you will do, grandma, when the long evenings come-no body to read to you." "What are you to be about, bairnie, all the time, [ f. TILE MITIIERLESS BAIRN. 33 that you wont give grandma an hour or two of think it unieasonible. Yours is the samne, 01113 the evening? " instead of' a profession you are learning a busi- This was asked very coaxingly by the old lady. ness, so I am not inclined to make salary a mat- Mary's large hazel eyes were cast down half dif ter of much'importance." fidently as she replied, " And 'what will he pay ine besides mily board "Willie has such a nice voice and reads so asked the boy. beautifully, you will feel the change very much " 1Ten (ila rs a mnith, Willie, which will clot ho he never hesitates over words, and then the way you nicely and give you spending money for boilk he retnembers all the fine things, one can't help and all the little notions you will require. Yu'ii improving if they listen to him." must renember you are under very favorable cir- " The lad is an uncommon good reader, Mary, cuustances ; your pay comninences with your and I never tire of hearing him praised, but you labor, and you are bound for no timi, tholigh if please me quite as much if you hint no ill of you undertake it and the business shall aigreo wNitil yourself, child; the change will nae be unpleasant, you, I have no fear of your giving it up. Whai f ,r I love the voices of ibaith my children. But do you say, ty son; how does it sound to 3our it is naeyet decided that he gange to this merchant mind,!" place, you said, Mary ? " '-"No, no; let Ie ask m3 questions before any " Not until father comes home, grandma. I thing is decided upon," put in Mrs. Mel)onald. think Willie is anxious to go, so I have very lit- " What of Mr. Phelp's family, David, and wliat tle doubt he will, for father said Mr. Phelps was will Willie's position in it be ?" a good man, and really anxious that one of the "I will answer your last question first, Man, boys should accept the place. There! father has for it don't require any great dal of 'hrew- come at last, and so we shall soon know all iess to discover that it is with 3on (f ti about it, grandma. I must go and help spread greatest importance-your Scoteh pride tug the supper, for we shan't hear anything till after gested it." that;" and away the young girl flew to perform " And a wholesome pride it is, 1)vid ; is her part f the preparation for the evening's weell for a iiither to hi' in niid how lot meal. bairns are to be treated-aA it is in i son " Well, father, what have you got.to tell us ?" of mine wha would ha' line of his liddies put asked Willie as Mr. McDonald shoved his plate in the place of an underinog. Hull to Nir away from him as an evidence that his meal was Seote'h prior, Mi3y, er bairiis will bb w oe for through. it, though Daivid iimy laugh." " You have mastered your impatience pretty " Ah ! mother, you have a right to sehl nO," well, all of you," was the answer, " iand now I the f I rmer unsllwered,hlin ,ll iligly, " ad11 il nlu10m !- am ready to give a full account of my day's work, . iedge if any prio is wliolesiu, it is Si'iihh which won't take me long. The only point upon pride but in this matter ofi Willie, initlo which your mother and I hesitated, Willie, was you nor Mary will say I have shown iiiy w11im your board. We are not willing that any of our of it. Our boy 'is to bI as a son in Mir. Philp children leave us, unless we can be sure of their fiuily ; his rooni, which Mrs. I'lelps ai iied having a pleasant home when released from bq- nie to go up and look it, is a very siig ole; siness-a home where they will feel happy and everything clean and convenient, iind1 nicie content. That is what I went to the city for to- enough to sit anybody. 'lie finiily cinhi ( of day, and at last the matter can be settled by one Mr. and Mrs. Phelps, ii daughter not far fil word from you, for Mr. Phelps has concluded Many's age and two youig boys." that he -will take you into his ownfamily. I took "iAnd what has become if the will youl 1 dinner with them to-day, and everything looks to. who caused you that accident, the f it ymi me as though you might be very happy. Mrs- knew of them ?" Phelps is a very pleasant woman, and judging "He is in thearniy-I never asked iifter 1hm from her face she must know how to make her till to day, for his father seemed always anxious family happy." to avoid the mention of his name ; but 'w Nici The farmer gave a satisfied glance at the sweet they talked with me so freely of our children, I matronly face opposite him as he said this. thought it no more than right to ask after lily ok. "Your pay won't be as much, of course, my acqu~lintance. Both parents looked sad eniouigi son, but that is not the most important thing..- attemnino hcr5ii5nne hn i Here, Jemmy is to give away five years to pre- has caused them many a heartache ; but for oun pare himself for a doctor, and we none of us hapiesad I prs efo this too it apies3n peueo erto r , ._ f fl I 1 h f3 t' IA page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 34 THE MITHER better that he should be away. And now, Mary, are you satisfied as to family." "Yes, David, I should think our Willie might be very comfortable there; that he would not miss those he leaves at home more than we could wish him to." "And what do you say, my boy ?" asked the farmer of the youth. "That it is best for me to go, father; I am not needed at home, and- it is time I began to think about doing something.." "That is right, Willie; I am glad to hear you speak so decidedly, for it seems a very favorable opportunity. Now, how soon can you get him ready, Mary, for Mr. Phelps said they were in a very busy time, and the sooner he could have Willie, the better he should be pleased." And, now between the farmer and his wife, grandma andWillie, there was planning and talk-, ing, which ended in the conclusion that the nild- die of September was the earliest possible time that the boy could leave home for the city ; now it was the last week in August and there was much to be done in these three weeks, for this was the time fixed upon for the departure of the eldest son from his home to commence the study of medicine with an uncle in an Eastern city. This uncle was his mother's brother! He held a very high place in his profession, and when on a visit to his sister a few months previous, had taken a great liking to the bright, spirited James, insisting upon his being sent to him to be fitted for the medical profession. He had no sons of his own,, and had seemed so anx- ious for this, that at last the parents had been in- duced to think it best that they should be sepa- rated from their child, since such .advain Y s as were now offered him, their moderate cicum- stances would not allow them t, give all their children. The uncle had assured the parents that there could be no lack of home enjoyments to their son in his house, his wife was of that class of women whose province was her own fireside, and nothing would gratify her more than the presence of her husband's nephew in her family ! And as there was in the city a medical college of the very best standing, there seemed every in- ducement for their accepting the offer, which was not to cast their carefully trained son upon strangers for society. This had ever been the* loving mother's anxi- ety as she each day had studied to make their home the most attractive place on earth to her children; the thought would continually come up that by-and-bye they might be cast upon strangers wh would care very little whether they were RLESS BAIRN. happy or miserable. She could scarcely hope that it would be otherwise with some, at least, of such a numerous family, and then'they would be driven to seek society where snares were thickly spread ; her husband had shared this anxiety, realizing the dangers which the world contains for those cast upon it for society much better than she could, especially those who had been raised in the pure atmosphere of such a home, and this was his very good reason for making every effort towards fitting them for set- tling them as fast as they came of an age to decide what was best suited to their tastes and capaci- ties. They must not think of the pain ;attending a separation; their children were not given them to hold selfishly, but to prepare for acting a part in the world, and if that preparation could not be made fully while under the eye of their parents, then father and mother must resign their society for a time that their trust might be well kept. But well did they look to making this going away as pleasant as it might be. There must be a home to go after each day's labor ; a table to sit at, healthful morally, intellectually and physi- cally; and since nothing of this could be found in a boarding house, no boarding house could receive their well-bred country boys ; and until a place within a quiet family circle was secured to re- ceive them, they said " no" to all business offers, no matter hoy advantageous they might seem. All had listened to the conversation which re- lated to Willie's going to the city, and when it was at last settled that he and James were to leave home on the same day, the latter exclaimed, in his' gay, thoughtless way, "I'm glad we're going at the same time, Wil- lie, for my irnd has been oppressed with the conviction tte-t 1 shouldn't be miss d in a way which would be very flattering; for my life I can't make out that I am a particle of use to any one in the establishment, and I am convinced, were they to make any demonstrations of sorrow when I am going, they must be so feeble as not to be satisfactory. But you'tl be missed by all, from grandma down to Amy, and I can'have a chance to go in for a share of the tears which will be shed for you'" " For shame! my son, to speak in this way of the grief we must all feel at losing you for a time!" the mother's voice was almost reproach- ful as she said this; "you don't deserve the regret we must all feel, Jemmy, if you speak in this thoughtless way of it." " No, mother, I was not thoughtless, but more serious than I often am; I have felt this very much. Who ever calls upon me for anything?' In THE MITER truth, I believe the only decided thing I do for anybody in the house is to torment the younger children, that I may hear them makeitheir droll complaints to you, mother; and then I enjoy my peace-making with you after they are sent away so much ; how can I help feeling my absence will relieve them of a pesterer, and you of a great. care ?" The speaker's voice had lost much of its gaiety, as this was said in a way that left no room for any doubt as to his seriousness. Littly Amy, who was usually his victim, but who after all loved him with a child's capricious fondness, was upon his eldest brother's lap, lavishing upon him her sweetest caresses as an assurance that after all lhis teazing he was the best brother in the world, and all save the grandmother expressed their full agreement with the child. " Ye said right, Jeminy, yer deeds bae been nae praiseworthy; butye hae weel managed the heart o' every ane o' the household, that whether we would or nan, we maun lo'e ye, and we shall miss you sairly, laddie, but nae sae selfishly as your brither Willie !" As the young man bent over the old lady to kiss her wrinkled cheek for this loving chiding, a tear fell upon her old withered hand, and in an instant all her assumed severity was gone. "Ye're a gude laddie, Jenmy, yell be missed all---eairly missed, I tell ye, my bairn-" and with this the old grandmother hurried to her own room, where an hour or two after the children found her as usual, very calm and cheerful, but her eyes bore the traces of tears.- After all his thoughtless gaiety, this youth, her David's first born, was the darling of the old woman's heart, and many a tear had fallen silent- ly as she had thought of his departure from his home; but so quiet had been her grieving, the object of them had no suspicions that she gave him a thought. The three weeks which followed the -cision that Willie should go to the city were buy ones with the farmer's home, and no one could have imagined that one of the two youths, for w hom all these preparations were making, had been a stranger to the house until he was eight years old; in everything they were equal, and Davie, who continually asserted his determination to stick to home and the farm life, declared that but for old Neptune he should believe it was all a dream! that Christmas day! And to all it was much like a dream, but to none more so than to Willie.; even to this time his foster-niother often talked with him of that other mother who had so long been at rest; but his heart no longer LESS BAIRN. 35 grieved over the death of one who had kum N naught but sorrow. He loved the family who had adopted him as they had been his own, and ne - er had they allowed him to feel himself alone. Yet at the same time his ambitions were not the same that they might have been had he been a child by birth; all this love and care would then have come naturally, and, like his brothers, he would have been content to receive it without further thought; now it was owing to th ir pure benevolence, and he would reward them by pro - ing himself worthy the affection which had so blessed him. To Mary these three weeks were very sad ones; to lose two brothers at one time was more thin she knew well how to endure, but there was to much to be done-to have any time to spend in repining, and from daylight until late in the evei- ing the young girl kept her place in her grand- mother's room, stitching busily upon the shift ts which were to form a part of the brother's oow- fit; but in spite of her bravest iflrts the tears would sometimes coiuplet ly blind her over lr work. 'T'hese evenings of sewing were, howit - er, never tedious, for \Willie,vsith his book, never failed to be ii his place, and the eldest brother nearly always stole in to iistnii ani to caress ol Neptune, as he stretched himself at Mary's fe t, and eften enough he wondered that he had ii i i before discovered w, bt a charniing place tits was, and he told Willie all the praise he dserv- ed for his attentiveness to their grandmother was just none at all, for the most selfish fellow in the world would do all that he had done,jIst for tlie pleasure to be derived from it. And Jmmes was right, for many a selfish pleasure seeker goes tho' world over in his hopeless search wit hout in his whole life finding half of the real leis- ure which an unselfish heart has in the per- formnance of a good action. CHAPTER V. And seldom, when life is mature, and the strength pre- iporiloned to the burden, Will the feeling mind that can remenaber acknowledge t deeper anguish, Than when. asia stranger and a little one, thel heart firet ached with anxiety, And tle sprouting buds of ensibility were bruised by the harshness or a school." rurr' in. They were sorry,yet very hopeful hearts wlhiehi James Wilson McDonald left in the dear ol home. This was the first break in their circle, and all from the aged grandmother to the young- est child felt it a very sore trial, amnd many anid earnest were the prayers that wenut up to I leaveni that night from the household which had that day J' i' page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] sent forth two of its members to try their hands son Harley left at the age of sixteen years to en- in that world of which they as yet knew very tera mercantile housa in the neighboring city.- little, but for which they had been as well pre- Seldom had he in eight years been away from pared as good education and sound wholesome this protecting roof for more than one night, for teachings and trainings, intellectually, morally the superior education of the farmer and his wife and religiously, could make them. Even farmer had enabled the-m to act as teachers to their child- McDonald brushed a tear or two from his sun- ren, and so saved them the trouble and expense burnt manly cheek as for the last time he badehis of tutors or schools. children a "God speed ;" and the tender mother The man, into whose employ the youth was had no voice in which to speak the final good going, had before this seemed somewhat connect- byes. Mamy, the shy half child, half woman, had ed with his destiny, for it 'was his wayward son hard work to subdue her sobs sufficiently to re- who had by his wanton carelessness delayed Mr. spond to the affectionate brotherly charges which McDonald on that Christmas morning, and the were given her by the two brothers with regard merchant himself had directed the farmer to the to writing, while the younger brothers and little Potter's Field. where the homnelebs Wilson had Anny made no efforts to conceal their grief on the sought'a home and couch by the side of his mroth- occasion. But both adventurers, notwithstand- er's grave, and now this same Mr. Phelps had ing their tender-heartedness met all this with a agreed to receive the boy into his extensive busi- wonderful bravery, and had this been the end of ness establishment, and into his house as a mem- their good byes, both would have escaped with- ber of his family, as an equal and associate with out compromising their dignity; but when, at the his children; but that he had acted any part in last moment, grandma with face paler than usual influencing the fortune of his young clerk previ- and bearing the traces of recent tears, emerged ous to this, the merchant was wholly ignorant, from her chamber and laid a trembling withered for he regArded him as the real son of farmer hand upon the head of either one of her children, McDonald, the latter agreeing with his wife that the tones in which she faltered her tender solemn this matter of the adoption need not be mentioned benediction, so stirred the heart of the usually in making the arrangements. gay spirited James, that all his stoical self pos- The first week of the boy in his new quarters session gave way, and he wept as passionately as was not without its emhbarrassment and difficul- in the days of his boyhood. ties; the business was in everything new, and to "Come, Willie," whispered Davie, with a shrug one accustomed to the plain, comfortable home of his shoulders-"it must be you or Inext, for of a farmer, the elegancies of a handsome city see Jim is completely over. Come, boy, let's be off before we lose our character, for I begin to feel plaguy choky about the throat. You've said good bye once round, so let's get into the wagon and Jim will soon follow-there's no use in waiting, the last will be just so hard let it come when it may." Willie was of Davie's opinion, and thought the longer they delayed their departure the more pain were they giving their mother and all their dear ones, and so the two were soon seated in the wagon which was to take them to the depot wait- ing to be joined by the eldest brother, who might have lingered, no one could tell how long, hadinot his father suggested the possibility of his being left behind, did he not hasten his last adieus., The poor old grandmother felt the parting more deeply than did any other member of the family, but in the solitude of her own room she gave vent to her grief, for well she knew that each heart felt sadness enough without having it increased by witnessing her emotion, which she could not subdue. Such was the home which the motherless Wil- establishment could scarcely fail to be annoying; yet Wilson was one to become very soon accus- tomed to change, and the second week he was nearly as much at home behind the counter as from long practice he had become at swinging the scythe or holding the plough; and not more dif- ficult was it for the well-bred youth to learn the real comforts to be found in the simple elegance of the home surroundings. Mr. Phelps soon saw he should have no cause to regret the addition he had made to his house- hold. Having been trained by such a tender mother, and lived constantly in her society,,the boy was ever thoughtful of what he could do-, of what service he could be to the wife of his employer; then the three children, the eldest a daughter named Delia, being near the age of Mamy, were not long in learning how delightful it was the having one so kind and ready always to help them in their difficulties with their les- sons; and before the first month had come to a close, at which time by arrangement he was to go home for a few days, Wilson had become so much a helper in the family of Mr. Phelps that THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 37 nothing could have tempted either wife or chil- lie was to visit his dearly loved home; a full month ren to have consented to his leaving them ; and had he been absent, and saving one brief visit from -"4 1---s-was1.ne.a oif--re wLlir nis..employer, wno- toe rar--er-rio one ,cI t n fmil hd" seni i l i 5 ) ?f 1 i _ __......._, ..r _._ _-------__ i . I 36 A THE MOTHERLESS BAIRN. notLes, asliea -avrit wth is mpoyer, who the farmer n1o one of thle family had he seen inl had considered honesty and good breeding the that time ; so it was not surprising that this visit only advantages that a country boy would possess , was looked forward to with anticipations of over one trained in the city, but who by this time the greatest pleasure. His leave of absence was began to set them down as far superior in talent to extend over three days, and as the journey re- and business capacity, to say nothing of morals quired but a few hours for its performance this and refinement; and often enough had he felt a promised to be a grand time. heart pang as he had watched the young man so As the Phelps family met around the breakfast quietly and patiently explaining to his little sons table, the boys were loud in their lamentations their lessons, till the difficultes which had seemed over the loss of one who had proved such a con- mountainous for size had all disappeared, and as petent and ready helper to then in their diflicul- the little fellows thought of their recitations for ties; even for so short a tinIe Ihey felt it would be the next morning their eyes would dance with very trying to get on without the assistane they pride. had come to depend upon as their right, It was not strange that all this should cause "And what do you think Wilson's brothers do the good man more than one heart-pang, for be- without him all the tinke ilsons 7" asked Mr. side it would invariably rise another picture- PhelpsI his own son reckless- of all good, spending with "They are clever; ain't they, Willie ? so the a prodigal hand all that his parents put within don't n e ele ack rind Bill," so the his reach, and not caring to what sorrow .he don't need brvlp like Jaek and Billy," said the brougheahm, ridsnot in o sehaesow he half-grown Delia, glancing at her brothers in a brought them, so his own selfishness could be rgihwy gratified; and often enough as he would turn roguish way. oh away from the contrasted pictures, did the mer- "But don't you want as mluch help as we d, chant wonder in his heart why he should have it Miss ?" cried the ten year old Jack. "I'm sure in his power to make so great a man of his son, Bill and I have to wait that you muy be first and yet that son have not one element of great- shown in your sums almost always ; so if we guess ; while the good farmer McDonald was ain't clever you've no right to laugh, and I guess compelled, from his limited means, to think of the you'll niiss Willie so much as we shill: or if you occupation of his boy as an actual necessity to don't, I guess Miss Parks will, 'cause I don't be- his future comfort, and'yet that boy possessing live your lessons 'll be half learned all the natural endowments for making a ruling 'Well, well, children, I thought Willie was my spirit among great men. He thought it all one clerk ; but instead of that being his chief busi- of fortune's mistakes, having no idea that the ness, you seem to look upon him ias a sort of tin- very possession of these almost useless advan- tor. I shall be compelled to attend to thisnat- tages, over which he now sighed, had bad a great ter, for I think he must finud you great torments. hand in making such a marked difference be- How is it, Wilson, don't these youngsters bore tweenthe two minds which he had thus contrast- you to death with their requirements ? You ed. Nature had undoubtedly favored him who will have to teach them one thing, which it is was to drink so deeply of childish grief. Was it very difficult for them to learn, that is, to keep not natural that she should ? But education- in their places, and let you have a little rest in the influences of home had been the philosopher's those hours w hieh should be your leisure 7" stone. The farmer and his wife had with their "Then lie must teach Delia too, pa ; hie is as limited means given to the child of their adop- bad as we are every bit, ain't she Willie ?-no, tion, what the merchant, with all his wealth, you won't say so, but ain't she, Billy, always could not bestow upon his first born-the pride wanting something just at the sanme time wedo?" of his heart. Yet the latter had no suspicion that "Oh, yes ! and if she ever got through, we the fault lay at his own door, that his own ruin- wouldn't so much mindd" was Billy's somewhat ous indulgence at first, and afterwards thought- surly answer. "Is your big sister-Mamy 3 oi less severity upon the very follies he had occa- call her, don't you ?-is she as troublesottie is sioned, had made a perfect wreck of what nature Delia ? don't she never know one of her lessons had designed for a man of mina and worth. lie till you have told her all about them ? If she felt like murmuring at first that it had made his don't, I am sure she nust miss you-girls night child so inferior to his young clerk. know without being told, it sees to ie-such At length the morning dawned upon which Wil- big girls any way." page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 18. THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. "Hush! hush ! every one of you-no, Jack, don't say any thing more"- said the mother in a kind but determined voice-"your pa was speak- ing to Wilson, yet you have given him no chance to answer ; now mind you are not to open your lips to speak one word, my sons, till you show a better humor." "And aint Delia to hold her tongue too ? she began." " Jack, be quiet or I shall send you away from the table; that is not a very good humored remark; you are in an unenviable state of mind this morn- ing, and I shall be compelled to punish you if I see much more of it." This acted as a-.silencer upon the little fellow, but it was a very surly-obedience. Wilson liked these children for they were really geod hearted boys, and Delia, a handsome, high spirited girl, often amused him very much ; but it was impossi- ble for him to be among them, and not often in his mindcontrast them and his young brothers and sisters well trained, and no matter how full of fun, never forgetting the obedience and respect which they owed their parents, or even their eld- er brothers and their quiet sister Mary. Yet the Phelps children were very fond of each other, and doatingly fond of their parents ; but a little firmness was required on the part of the parents to make them a most loveable little family, and the absence of this respectful governing bid fair to make them little better than their ungainly brother, who had caused the father and mother too many saddening hours ; yet Mrs. Phelps was very desirous of training her children rightly, and fully believed she did her very best towards mak- ing them well mannered ; she did not realize that such a surly obedience as her boy Jack had given her at the breakfast table was not obedience, but the result of fear that he should be sent away with a half completed meals and no acknowledg- ment of a mother's right to command obedience, " Let's see ! this is Friday, you will be back on Monday morning, r suppose, Wilson ?" asked Mr. Phelps, when order was once more restored among the younger members of the family. " Yes, sir, I will try to get back by the first train, which I am sure I can do as father is a very early riser." "By the first train ! Oh ! well that will be very convenient, though I should not have required it. I hope you will enjoy your visit, Wilson, the weather promises to be very fine, and a few days in the country would'nt be unpleasant to any one. Call at the store, if you please, on your way to the depot; I have a letter to write fcryour father, which, if you will take that trouble, I will intrust to your care ; you can't have muclh time to lose, it's half-past eight and the cars start at half- past nine, so you had better come right along with me." This the merchant said as he arose from the breakfast table, at the same time looking at his watch. Wilson 'was not sorry to accompany his employer, for he had already began to feel a full measure of impatience to be on his way. As they walked quickly in the direction of the mercantile house, Mr. Phelps talked to his clerk in the kind- est possible manner of his future, and then alluded to his position in his family ; he told him that he must not allow Jack and Billy to encroach upon his hours of leisure, which in justice to himself he should devote to useful reading, save sufficient to be spent in active out-of-door'exercise. " Now I will detain you but a moment ; I would write your father a few words, which you shall deliver to him." This the gentleman said as he approachad his desk and proceeded to ex- amine the outside of a handful of letters which had been left there for him. "Here, Wilson," he said, turning to his companion and extending towards him a letter, " here is something for you, from your brother, if I mistake not, in Bos- ton, I think you said he was." The youth answered in the affirmative, at the same time grasping the letter, -which, from its size, was far more properly called a package. "Now your time of waiting wont be tedious," was the employer's remark, as he opened his desk and proceeded to write to farmer McDonald a few lines expressive of his perfect satisfaction in his son. Wilson' was not long in breaking the seal' of his brother's letter, for he had heard from him but once since his arrival in his new home, and he was all eagerness to learn how everything ap- peared to the gay fellow after a little better acquaintance. The letter commenced: "Willie, my dear fellow, I have now so much to write I hardly know where to begin ; your letter was received more than a' week ago; its contents gave me overwhelming pleasure ; but I was not at all disappointed, for the Phelps family would be in pretty business to treat you in any other way than with the greatest consideration. Ask mother and dear grandma as to the respect- ability of the McDormlds and the Wallaces, which last, you know, was mother's name, and you will see either of them grow a full inch taller from the rising of their " Scotch pride," as father calls it; no, there is scarcely a family in the land who has a broader foot-hold for their pride than ours ; but I must acknowledge I never knew I h THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. "39 much of this until I came to live with uncle James. We lived so quietly at home ! father and mother were forever too much absorbed in keep- ing their harum-scarum boys in order, to attend much to the display of family dignity. I presume they were right. Ah ! Willie is it not a comfort to think of our life at home? We have reason, at least, to be proud of the part of our family which we have known. A woman who on every occasion won the love and admiration of her children, who never humbled herself before one of them by losing the command of her temper, who never left one of her boys even in anger, but' forced them to see their fault in its true light. I tell you, Willie, the remembrance of all this often weighs upon my mind, for, as dear grandma would say, "To whom muckle isgiv'n, mann we nae look for muckle?" " The world has heavy claims upon the children of David McDonald, and the question in my mind is-shall I improve upon the shortcomings of my boyhood? There is no danger of you, for forget- fulness is not one of my faults. I used to say it foqonA r ouvnto drmrihaniA sf ago to-day. Cousin Chloa was in a great way for two days before her friend came, and on every occasion she entertained me with the most glow- ing descriptions of sometimes her wealth, some- times her beauty, and sometimes her wit. But you haven't forgotten, Willie, I was never over- fond of the girls, anybody but 'dear Mamy and Amy ; so cousin Chloa looked dissatisfied that 1 showed so little anxiety to meet this young girl; but when at last she came, all my indiffmence fled with one sight of her childish yet womanly face. She is two years younger than cousin Chloa. I had expected to see a girl of the sanme age, with eyes blue and face fair ; but Henrietta Farnham's eyes are of no common kind. I now know what color they are, because she has told me, but they are those eyes which change with every thought, yet she assures me they are gray- as she says-ugly gray. I don't know how to desci ibe her that you can have any idea of her looks. Her hair is brown, or of a color nearly as uncertain as her eyes, and slightly wavy; she puts it -up in heavy plaits, though she tells me she used to wear it in curls; her face is not r was soeeasdy to wearitncurg lsher faceinonar- there was no praise belonging to you; how far ticularly fair-uncle James tells her if she was wrong I was in the assertion I cannot say, but I ever still long enough to give any grounds for shall never forget your distress the first--I be- such an opinion, he should pronounce her in n lieve the only time you were ever sent supperless liver complaint-and her skin is rather sallow; to bed, because your lessons were not perfect. Do but I never see this, there is such a charm in the you remember it, my noble brother? I, who was expression of this girl's face she can well dis- four years older than you, had coaxed you off to pense with peach blossom complexion. She is of take one more slide, and just one more, I was about the medium height and not so very well much the most in fault, yet you were not the boy developed, being not quite fifteen. You will to tell mother of this you took it all very qui- wonder what 1 am at, Willie; but just stop and etly, looking somewhat out of spirits, but yet not look at my indistinct picture, and tell me do you inclined to lay it to heart at all until you for the see anything familiar in it ?'I first time learned our mother's habit of sharing in "From our first introduction Henrietta and I the punishment which she inflicted upon her chil- seemed to take to each other; there was a some- dren, and then were you not well nigh heart bro- thing in her look or manner, I could not tell ken. That I am sure was the first time the ear whh, nor can I now, that reminded m)e of home : woman everyielded to the over persuading ofl one I think it must be only the way a lovely of her children, that night our mothertook'her child or woman will always remind us of sisters supper, notwithstanding one of her boys was still or mother, and now to the point of my story. fasting. I think it was the only time you ever Uncle Janies has a very handsome hound, of' gave her the trial. What would I not give to have which we are all very fond; well, two or three as clear a conscience as you, Willie! I wonder if days Henrietta had been here, when one evening you think of these days at home as much as I do. she came out on the porch where I was playing Three weeks I have been away, and it seems in with Folly, and the dog, as was very natural with some things as many years." one so much accustomed to being petted, sprang "But what am I about? I commenced this towards Ifenrietta fIor a caress. For a mnonment letter with entirely a different object from the she let her haud rest upon the animal's pretty one which has shown itself. The first time I head, and then removing it she said, wrote, I think I told you all about uncle James' "1I never make pots of dogs, Mr. McDonald, I family. Well, cousin Chloa, that's the oldest of don't believe they are to be trusted." my swarm of girl cousins, had a visitor come to. "Not to be trusted !" I exclaimed, " what an spend a few weeks with her. She arrived a week idea, Miss Henrietta, why I have often heard it *1 1' ,W page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 THE MITIIERLESS BAIRN. said, that if man was but half as faithful to those even the animal's name; why, you will linow as who have a claim upon him, as one of these well as I when you have heard the story.' brutes will be to a master not over kind, he would "And then, Willie, can you believe me, when I show himself much more worthy of being called tell you, this young girl, this Henrietta Farnham, MAN; and yet you, who seem so full of confidence gave me a full account of how you, my own broth- in every thing good, condemn man's closest brute er, sought shelter upon her father's porch more companion for its faithlessness!" than eightyears ago; how her dog Neptune saved "Do I seem full of confidence?" she asked in a you from freezing by laying close to you ; how her most childish way ; but immediately added with father thought you a thief; and finally of her dog's cheerfulness, "but we are not always what we determination to protect you even against his seem,.Mr. M'Donald'!"' master. She spoke of this very little, not liking "You are, I am positive, Miss Henrietta," I re- that one should thiak illy of her father, I presume; plied;."but now tell me what is your reason for but she need not have shielded the old villain, I condemning dogs, for I know you have a reason. knew the story too well When she came to the end, finishing Up by telling how she put the dear "No, no, I did not condemn-I only said I did old fellow's new collar on him, I said, as though not make pets of them, because I did not believe I had never before heard a word of the matter: they were to he trusted. I once had a very dear, '" But why (did you give himi this collar, which beautiful dog, who left me willingly for a stran- you spohe of-so valuable as ith w a whiche ger; I did not try to keep him back, for I would qu s efo ale as a tci wass; it seemed not have even a brute held in bondage; nor did I stranger, and your Old Neptune s fathless-you condemn him then, nor do I now; forhe must have could hardly think him worthy of such a mark of seen something to love very much in the stranger, con hy or he would not have left.me, for he had ever "Oh! it was his and not mine," she answered, before shown the strongest attachment for me! But never since heleft me have I seen hi ,. and I smiling, yet, Willie, there were tears in her eyes. will never love a dog again!" ."Santa Claus brought it to my dog, and not to me; I did not think I had any right to keep it She spoke in such an earnest, serious way, it back; but if I felt differently, I could not have made me feel this a matter of mnuchmore impor- kept back the dear old fellow's collar, be deserved tance than under ordinary circumstances I should it f.r the good behavior of the past, let his con- have thought it, and in right good earnest I took duct after that be what it might; but I'aia sure up the gauntlet, which I considered she had he was always faithful to that poor boy, though thrown dawn. h a lasfihu ota orby huh you don't know how much I would give to hear "But because one dog has. shown himself un- from him again, as well as to knlow the fortune of. worthy of trust, is it a good reason for condemning i the whole dog tribe?" I asked.11hs por little master." "Willie, wRhat ought I to have done ?' I don't "I declare again, I don't condemn, I merely know whether I acted rightly or not, yet for my withhold confidence and love. Where I have life. I could not have brought myself at that time once found my confidence misplaced, I never trust to have told this girl that my brother Willie and again, nor will I trust those of the same kind." her hero of the porch were the same. You know "But because one dog shows himself worthless we have none of us ever been inclined to speak of shallthe great canine family suffer for it F" this out of the family; we are too selfish to be "'My old favorite was not unworthy; he was willing that other people should know that you are the handsomest and best animal I ever saw; had not ours by nature.. I hardly know if this is right, he been mean-spirited, it would have been very yet I cannot see what good could come of telling different; but, until the very hour he left me. IIyour sadstory. and in evervthinir vou do helona know he would have sacrificed his life to save to us. You understand, then, that I left the nar- mine ; I could never find one more noble, so I rather to think I had never before heard of her or could never find one that I would trust.' her dog, and asked her questions enough to con- "'But it is was very strange that he should leave vinee her that the matter had no small interest you if so attached and faithful as you say-tell for me. Is it not wonderful that I should meet me about it, Miss Henrietta!' this girl, Willie? So many times as we have "I will tell you since so much has been said'- talked of her, always calling her famniliarly by was her answer,'but although it is a very little that pretty name-" Hettie." She is a very sweet thing you must promise me to say nothing more girl-spirited enough to suit any one, but who of it, for my father has the most perfect dislike to could help admiring her devotion to her dog's TILE MITHERLESS BAIRN. memory, for it was that, and not distrust, which kept her from choosing another pet. The old fellow took away with him all the heart the child had for a dog. How I would like that they should meet again, and if Neptune was not so old, I might think the thing not improbable. But, no more of this now-the future we may dream of, but it must be worked out patiently, and how different a thing may it prove from what we in fancy saw. "Write me, my dear fellow, very soon, and tell me how all this made you feel ! Would you have Hettie (I call her so now) know who you are, and that her dog Neptune, somewhat rheumatic, yet well cared for, is under the protection of your sweetest sister Mary? If you would, I should be .more willing to tell her now than I was on that evening; you must be going home soon, but if you don't mind I would rather you didn't show this letter to all of our folks ; I would just as soon Mamy would see it as not, but the rest-I hardly know why-yet I think Davie would laugh, and dear father and mother and grandma might say I was a foolish boy., So you had bet- ter not mention having received a letter from me, and new, my best of brothers, good bye--I shall look for an answer very soon, and your are not the fellow to disappoint me. "Give my love to Mamy and a caress to old Neptune, and believe me your faithful-JIM." And this was from the gay thoughtless James McDonald, who had but one month ago left his home as frolicsome and fun loving as when he was no more than a dozen years old. But to Wilson it possessed a higher interest than even the 'change which it showed to have taken place in the mind and heart of the writer. So much had he become absorbed in the reading, that but for his employer Wilson would have allowed the train to have left him, Mr. Phelps, for a few moments, watched the youth, rather hesi- tating to interrupt him, but when he saw no signs of an end to the work in hand, he said : " The letter is ready for your father, Wilson, and as it wants but a few moments of car time, I would propose that you get aboard before finish- ing the reading of your letter, for you would not like to be left behind." Wilson's face crimsoned with mortification, that he had been guilty of forgetting himself so completely, but thanking his employer he folded his brother's letter hastily and placed it with the one for his father in his pocket, he bade thekind Mr. Phelps good bye, and made his way with no lingering step towards the depot. In his seat the boy was at liberty to give hiui. 41 self up to the perusal of this interesting cominu- nication, and not until he was well nigh his jour- ney's end did he refold and place it in security. Often enough had Wilson walked through the crowded streets peering into every face which he met or passed, hoping that fate might throw the child Hettie in his way, but all his search had been in vain. As to the house which had been the child's home so many years ago, he had not the most distant idea of its whereabouts, for on that tedious Christmas morning the poor boy had pos- sessed neither eyes nor heart for the surrounding world. Many had been the time he had strolled through the streets at evening trying to select the handsome building in the perch of which he had crouched for shelter, but so many of the houses had the same appearance, he could form n iblai of its locality even! Then to at last learn 'w ho was the child, to have her, after so many years, tell the sad story of his destitution, and express such a desire to hear what had been his fate, was it strange that his boyish heart was stirred with deep emotions ? lHe was by no means blind to the deep interest his brother's letter expressed, nor did it give himii any anxiety, but he did long to consult his moih- er before answering James' inquiries as teo t4he propriety of revealing to this young girl the-- cret to her very interesting story. Jamce' vwiih, however, that none of his family, save Mary, should see his letter, put this last it if the b1140's power, and made up his mind to read the wliole thing with his sister and abide by her decision, and with this conclusion he set out upon his two miles' wall, which was to end at the door of the McDonald farm house, and a warm wI elec (Ie did he find awaiting hini there !lie had not lee eicx- pected till the following morning, but the surpi is' gave all additional pleasure. The thousand questions which were showered upon him defied all attenips at answering, par- ticularly with such difficulties as the y outh had to contend with in the shape of fond kisses and caresses. Little Amy, who in the affeetions of parents, brothers and sister felt no inclination to yield her place to elders or superiors, in spite of coaxings or remonstr:ances, accrued bent on siffi- eating their visitor, and not until her gramihca in- terposed her emphatic thre'it to exclude the child from her room for a whole day unless she behaved more as a reasonable being, could they unlock her little arms which clasped Willie's neck. lut t he child knew too well the folly of expecting iny swerving in her grandparent, after once her word had passed; and the idea of being banished fromin that delightful old ro on oerdinairy occasion ns i 'i II page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 - THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. would have been terrible enough,-but now,' when dear Willie was with them, to come into such disgrace would be almost unbearable; but to think of him and Mary with the young broth- ers, and that gayest of all brothers Davie, with whom she was something more than with anybody else, congregated around the delightful crackling fire in the evening, listening to one of grandma's stories, such an one as was sure to be brought forth on so rare an occasion; end she always had the very best place for seeing everybody in the circle, of hearing all that was said, and asking all the ques- tions she chose-to be excluded from the room- the bare thought was enough to make her a tol- erable biddible child. But while all the rest now took their turns in the greetings, the little sprite was off to a pas- ture, a long way from the house, to carry the glad tidings to Davie, who was engaged upon the repairing of a sheep-shed, and although the pleasure of carrying such glad tidings was a suf- ficient reward for her long breathless run, her brother's resources for giving her pleasure never failed him, and now mounting the delighted girl upon his horse, which he had there to assist him in the dragging of some heavy timbers, he sprang on behind her and the two had a grand half mile's canter home, arriving just as the idea had entered the heads of the younger boys to carry the news of Willie's arrival so unexpected to their elder brother! But their little sister too one of you. It is short, children, so you can en- dure the restraint, only be quiet."- "My dear sir--As your son is about starting for his home on a visit of a few days, 'I cannot deny myself the pleasure of writing you a fewj words, expressive of my perfect satisfaction of our new relation. He has a good business mind, much better than you gave me any reason to ex- pect, and judging from his appearance he is pleased with his situation. If it would be any satisfaction to you to know what I think of him intellectually and morally, it is enough for me to say I should be proud to be called FATHER by such a youth. I hope much from his influence over my boys-indeed my wife says he is already much more to them and our daughter than are all their teachers ; and here I have an idea your advice might be of great service to the boy ; by your fatherly arraige- ment his evenings are his ow:2, but as yet he has derived very little good from them, for my chil- dren have discovered that he possesses an almost magical power of teaching what was before un- learnable to them, and while heshows a willing- ness to assist them, they won't listen to my per- suasions to leave him quiet for even a moment. Besides, I am nearly always away, and so have very little control over my family. As to my wife, her mother's' ondnesa makes it seem a very easy thing for any one to sacrifice to her children, and I know it must be a great relief to her to have often stole a march upon them to allow them to them so quiet of evenings and yet so perfectly lay their disappointment to heart very much, and happy ; but since your son's duties do not extend as usual they contented themselves by saying they to the nursery or school-room, I don't think it didn't care so Davie had come. right for him to slave himself of evenings, drilling "What have you there, father and mother? " long lessons into heads not over quick to under- asked David after he had gived Willie his own stand ; they have the best of teachers, but it is warm hearted welcome, and espied his parents not like sitting down with some one who will wholly absorbed over some kind of a paper-Is it talk and explain as Wilson does ; however, I am a letter from Jim ? if so, I'm sure we all have a not willing he should deprive himself of the only right to share its contents." liberty he has, and as my hints to that effect have " No, Davie, it is a letter to your father from had no influence over him, and my direct inter- Mr. Phelps ; Willie brought it." ference might lead my wife as well as the chil- " A note to father for your bad behavior, eh, dren to think me careless of their comfort, I boy !" exclaimed David, shaking Willie by the would suggest the advisability of your enforcing shoulders. upon your son the improvement of his evenings in reading and exercise ; you can understand this "I'm sure I don't know," was the laughing from me much better than lie could; a family man answer; "I was its bearer, ht it contain what it finds many difficulties which must be met, that may, and I don't believe Mr. Phelps would be not even his wife can appreciate. Mrs. Phelps is unjust towards me !" already very much attached to your son, and I ".There, you are a capital fellow, my son! a trust all may continue as pleasant as it has com- capital fellow, certainly. I haven't finished yet, menced ; you must come with your wife to visit but if you will all be quiet for a moment, I will us and him. Perhaps it might be as well not to read the letter aloud to you, for I cannot suppose give your boy any idea of the contents of this note, it interests me a whit more than it must every he might not understand my real motive, and med- THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. dling always seems veryunpleasant. I wish you all much pleasure in this visit, and hope Wilson will not be the less content for it when he returns to our home, and now it is time for him to be off. Yours very respectfully, A. PHELPS. The end of this letter was greeted with a shout from David, and all felt inclined to laugh at the closing charge, that the boy should know nothing of its contents, when he and his brothers and sisters had already listened to the whole reading. " I can see no harm in your having heard it," remarked the father. "There is no danger of your looking upon it in the light Mr. Phelps feared you might. The deepest intere t in your welfare suggested the writing of it, and I am sure we must all think him very kind." "Very kind, may be, David, but nae so very clever. Is it mair needful to his bairns that they hae siller mair than will meet their wants, or a faither's care? Puir laddies ! it will be nae sae muckle their fault if they grew up fules." This the old grandmother said with all her Scotch severity. " No, nd, mother, you must be just; Mr, Phelps provides the best of teachers f'or his children, and it would hardly be his fault if they do badly." "David, I tell you a' the teachers in the land are nae sac gude as the laddie's ain faither, and the tnither-if she be such an one as should be- is better than either. Where would hae been a' yer ain bairns but for Mary's teaching and care; and noo in a' the country round ye'll find a better taught family than yer, ain, David! and yet ye talk o' teachers for this merchant man's wee, tender things? But mother, you forget we were ,too poor to have teachers for all our large family. Had I been but a quarter as rich as Mr. Phelps, I would never have permitted Mary to take such a burden upon herself as she was compelled to in this thing." " I know, David, the mither o' yer bairns has nae had an idle life ! But has she nae a light heart noo, when her work is so weel promising in the world, and the lad o' this rich man, I did not hear ye say he had made the heart o' his pa- rents sairby his wrang doings. Nae, my son, I like nae the man's writings o' his children, or their mither-its nae praiseworthy, but our Wil- lie has been too well trained to gain ill frae ain mair feeble than himsel." The old lady spoke in a stern disapproving tone, which her son well understood, and anything from him would but increase her severity, and had he spoke frankly he would have condemned the care- 43 less manner in which Willie's employer alluded to his wife and children, but the little this good farmer had seen of business men, had convinced him that once allow the mind to become absorbed in the pursuit of wealth, there was great danger of the best part of man's nature-his pure domestic tastes-completely dying out: and when the fat h- er once becomes negligent of the little circle, who have a right to look to him for love and tender- ness ; when he shifts all his duties on the mother of his children, can he complain that she in her turn, wearied with a life barren of s3 mpathy, leaves her work to be done by hirelings. And then when the offspring grow up, fit only to spend im dissipation and recklessness the gold which their father had hoarded up for them in lieu of instilling into their minds good precepts, and by ex:niple teaching them that life was an earnest thing, thii shall they dare to imurpiur that they have been denied the treasure which they see their more humble neighbors in the full enjoyment-children, which are a crown of glory to their world wea- ried parents ? These reflections had some influence in prevent- ing farmer McDonald from defending this wealthy man against his excellent mother's attack. With her sterling goed sense and quick perception he knew she saw the evil, and since fault findingaind censure would do no good, he thought it better that nothing more should be said. But there was one other in this little family circle who had his thoughts of this way of leav- ing children to hirelings-that was Willie ; and his old grandmother had spoken truly when she said there was no danger of his learning ill from one more feeble than himself; but he was not at all inclined to give up his fhice of helping the Phelps children, for he was becoming really at- tached to them, and their doleful stories of Ihwir ill-tempered teacher had quite excited his coii- passion. As to his parents interforing, he had no fear of that; it had been too much the business of one child to assist another in their family, for either of his parents to look upon it with disalp- proval. "Serve them as you do the boys and Amy, Willie, they are very kind to you there. If you can in some measure return the kindness-wthich we know you can by your attention to the boys- it is no more than right. We would rather you would be in the family as one of them, even sup posing you do sometimes have annoyances, than that you should be excluded from the domestic circle. If the little fellows grow to be trouble- sonme, serve them the sameo way you would your i .! ......_ . ......... --- _,tia. .m _._. .. _ page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] 44 THE MITHERLESS'BAIRN. little brothers, for now you know there isno dan- ger of offending the parents.". "Yes, he says there is a girl, too, as old as Mamy"-put in David-" he is to pull her ears, ain't he father? And now I'm so glad business is done the first thing ; you know your line of action, Willie ; hurrah ! won't you have a jolly time when you get back to the city folks, and won't we have a jolly time while you are here, hurrah ! my boy, why don't you shout just once ; so much room as there is here, no brick walls or dusty streets," and the sturdy young farmer per- formed the most ridiculous antics, first with kicking his slouched hat in the air, and then by upsetting his youuger brothers. Every member of the farmer's family seemed to c-tch the gaiety of its master-spirit, and Willie took deep breaths of enjoyment, whether sport- ing with the children, laughing with David andI Mary, or talking more gravely with their parents and grandmother. It was strange that the youth never indulged in those longings so common with orphans or foundlings-longing for kindred in blood. But he never had-his life had been too full of love for him to wish for more, and blessed by such parents, brothers and sisters, was it not sufficient? To wish that his own mother could have lived seemed to him cruel, so pale had been her cheek, and languid her step, what could there have been in her toilsome life that one who loved her should desire its continuance? 'Tis true, he sometimes had dreams of his father-who he had been, and was he living or dead, but one thing he knew: to him he had ever been dead, and was it not enough that his mother had been pure as an; angel? But all this would have been so differ- ent but for the wholesome home training which had surrounded him. No questionings of his parenta,'e, no allusions to the past, save to speak to him in the most loving manner of his dead mo- ther ; no recalling of his destitution, or reminding him of his dependence. From the fond old grand- mother down to the petted Amy, he was their own Willie as entirely as had he been born in the house; his place was as secure as was that of the first-born, not only in hearts, but in home; and none, to have seen him among his dear ones, to have looked into his clear, happy eyes, would have dreamed this could be the sad, motherless child who had on that Christmas eve wandered homeless and hopeless through the dismal streets of the heartless city-thought of by none, cared for by none-for whom no simple heart gave a throb. Now home and love were his, and the world was no longer cold or desolate ! - I CHAPTER Vi. "Love is a sickness fnll of woes, All remedies refusing; A plant that with most cutting grows, Most barren with best using."-[ANON. The first and second day of Willie's home visit passed, and yet not even for one little minute had he been able to steal Mary from the rest of the family for a private reading of that letter which was hid away in a most secret place, and which contained so much that was deeply interesting to him; and Sunday promised to bring little more than had Friday or Saturday, for the day was already waning, and yet all that the youth had done towards the accomplishment of the desired object, was to whisper Mary that in some way she must get rid of the tormenting children as he could not go away without seeing her by herself for a half hour at least, as he had something from their brother Jemmie, which he must read to her, and which no one else could be permitted to see. This made the girl so fidgety, she stood a very good chance of disclosing the whole secret. If Willie had but told her he wished a half-hour with- her alone, it would have been enough, but hearing it was something about Jemmie, some- thing which was to be concealed from the rest of the family, nearly upset the child. She was yet but a young girl-had not even got rid of her little girl tastes, but such a constant companion- ship with mother and grandmother had made her a strange mixture of woman and child; and now- so like as it will with a woman-the dreadful apprehension of temptation, and a yielding to it, came stealing over her. But no sooner was she conscious of the presence of the thought than did she, with quick anger at herself, repel it as unworthy the sister of their dear James. "No, oh ! no," she said to herself, "Jemmie is too noble, he is too strong; nothing could make him forgetful of himself, of the loving hearts which would be wrung with agony, if but the shadow of shame were to fall upon him. No, it is not that, or Willie could not have been so happy all this time ; neither can he be sick, for Willie would not keep that from father and mother ; he must be home-sick, yet loath to tell of it; must be wretched away from parents, grandma, brothers and sisters; must be pining to get back into their' loving midst! Oh, if it is only this," she continued to herself, with the greatest en- thusiasm, "wont we all open our arms to wel- come him to his old place again!" Dear little Mamy, with all her heart-with all her -womanly feelings, she had no suspicions of the truth'; she had no dream of their dear James TILE MITER falling in love, and that too with a child not a year older than herself-not a year older than his own little sister! as he was ever calling her "the heroic defender of a whole family of broken- headed doll-babies." But, when a youth, not yet too old to delight in victimising unfortunate dolls, takes it upon himself to fall in love, it seems most fitting that the recipient of his passionate devotion should be one, not yet passed the tender age, which feels for the miseries of such senseless LESS BAIRN. 45 Once on the quiet country road, W ilson ware not long in revealing the nature of his seret to his companion ; walkig slowly along ho read tlw letter to her, and she listened with an intertt no less intense than that which he had fit when ifirt perusing it, yet only an exclamation or two es- caped her until it was brought to a cl se, anl the youth asked, " Now tell me, dear Mamy, what do you think of this l" inocents. " Oh! Willie, I hardly know what I tlisnk," (Author's query-Lovers or doll-babies ?) was the artless answer. " It is all so nalden At last, af er Mary had quite frightened her and to me it seems so pleasant ; don't yin know grandma by the anxious expression of her large how often we have talked of this, and I have o eyes, and called forth from her mother a score of many times wished you might find that chilh, inquiries as to whether she was quite well, and whom we must all love very much for her kind got every child in the house, not excepting the ness to you; for we never should have had you. rmischievious David, following close upon her but for her; Im sure she can be no conlimoni heels, by pettishly declaring herself wearied with child, and I don't wonder dear Jeimmnre lke them; Willie, by his remembrance as to the likes her very much. But why should he feel in suchi and dislikes of his brothers, and sisters, succeeded a strange way about telling her, how much we in the accomplishment of the desired object. all owe her. I ari sure it is not any thing to Ie At five o'clock on Sabbath day there was al- ashamed of, and as much as I love all i bro- ways a prayer meeting at the country school- thers, I believe I love you better, Willie, tlim house about a mile from the McDonalds ; as the you ain't a brother like the rest, and I'd jint as family always attended morning service at the lief the whole world would know all about iow church of the neighboring village, the farmer and you came to us as not ; wouldn't you, Willie!" his wife never required their children to be pres- " Yes, Mamy, for myself' I would," was the ent it these gatherings, which seemed toofferlittle y oung man's answer, and the tones of his voic of real interest or devotion, and no one of themever told something of the pleasure he felt as lie w eint showed arn inclination to victimise themselves by 11on, 'it was not oin iy own account that I bei i- attending of their own accord. However, on this tated, but do you think father and mother and Sabbath Willie made the announcement to the Davie would feel im the s sii.n way I" family that he was going to the prayer meet- " Yes, I am sure they wouint, we tli feel you too ing, at the same time inviting David to ac- great a treasure not to be mole than willing, but company him; the latter declined with a shrug of the shoulders, saying if he wished a nap, he thought his bed a much more comfortable place to take it than the hard, strait-backed seats of the school-house. The younger boys received the invitation with prompt refusal, and little Amy wouldn'tgo 'cause the men sung in such a funny way she couldn't keep from laughing, and young as she was her sense of propriety told her this was no place for merriment. From Mary now he could only expect com- pany, and her eagerness in accepting the invita- tion opened her brother David's eyes to the fact, that at last he had been outwitted ; but for their ingenuity, he said, the two deserved to walk by themselves, and in his mind he resolved to qines- tien them very closely when they should return, to snake sure whether or dot they made the school house the termination offtheir walk. If they did not attend the prayer meeting he resolved to have his revenge by a good laugh at the two. anxious to thank her, who was so kind to y i4 when you had no friend. You iiust write all this to Jenmiie, and ask him to permit you to show this beautiful letter to all our folks; (h ! lhow grandma would love you to read it, for I tell you, Willie, she misses you two boys very much ; I haven't seen her so like herself in all this log month as she has been since you came home, nal to read such a letter as thatfrom Jeunie, it would make her very happy; I cant see why he ain't willing they all should see it, I cannot undirs and, can you, Willie, why lie should so hesitate to tell this dear good girl all about you, and how dear you have become to us ?" It was very seldom that this young girl forgot her timidity so entirely, even with those of her own family, to speak so unreservedly, and prob- ably she had never givens her adopted brother a greater pleasure than now in speaking so frankly of their relation. He too had often of late the same feeling when thinking upon those who had page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] TILE MITIIERLESS BAIRN. 4{ 46' THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. come to be all in life to him, he was thankful they were not his family by nature; at any time, even a month ago, he could not have explained the cause of such a feeling, but- absence from his home, and more than all, this letter from James, had opened his eyes somewhat, not only to the understanding of his brother, but as well to a little more clear understanding of himself. A minute Wilson thought of this, hesitating, whether or not it would be right to throw a new light into the mind of this child-woman; by ex- plaining James' reluctance to speak to the young girl of him; evidently Mary had no suspicion of the truth, yet he was confident but a word would be required to make her see all in its real light, but without that word it was all a puzzle to her; at length he said: "Mary, can't you imagine Jemmie may prefer remaining the object of chief importance with this interesting stranger? Although 1 would not accuse him of insincerity in what he said of his brotherly attachment and unwillingness that the world should know that we were not by nature brothers, yet I think there was still an higher motive in this case for his keeping silent; he was not even willing to speak of old Neptune to this Henrietta Farnham; he would have been jealous of one little thought she might have given her dog, once so dearly loved ; and the same feeling prevented his telling her of me. Do you not think so, my dear Mary?" The young girl looked at her companion half doubtingly. " What do you think, Willie? or I know what' you, think; but Jemmie is so yourg to us, younger than you are; can it be that h6-can it be as you think ? " Don't you think it is, Mamy? Just read that letter to yourself, and then tell me why did he say father and mother would call him a foolish' boy, and why would David laugh, if he was not guilty of something to him unusual? I know we have all regarded him as a boy among us, but that letter shows him possessed of deeper and more manly feeling than we had any of us imag- ined ever moved him, so gay and light hearted as he has ever been, and I am much mistaken, my little Mamy, if he has not ventured upon that very man-like perforiance of falling in love with my old friend of thd parch; when you have given that letter a second reading you will agree with me, I have no doubt about it." Mary took the letter which her companion handed her and read it through very carefully, judging from the time which was consumed in the operation, and when she came to the end, she folded it up silently, her face looking very anxious and seber. " Well, Mary, tell me what new discovery have you have made, for you have changed very much during the last half hour ?" Willie said this in a cheerful voice, for to him all seemed very bright and cheering. " You are right, Willie, I think it must be as you say ; Jemmie loves this beautiful, rich girl very much; but, oh! I am so afraid it will not be a happy thing; you mind how he speaks of her fa- ther-I could not-no, she could not love, one who would speak or think in this way of her fa- ther; and don't you remember what you have said of him? lHe must be a dreadful man, and he would never let his child nmarry our James, though he must think him good enough for any body. This will make him very unhappy-poor Jemmnie--I'm sure it will." There did, in truth, seem great reason for anx- iety as Wilson was ready to acknowledge, though he had not before seen it; yet, as he told Mary, it was not best to borrow too much trouble, for if it was as they suspected-if James did in truth love this child, he would not at present think of declaring it to her ; so young as they both were- particularly the girl-and he but just started to work out his position in life, years at least must pass before either one could think of marriage seriously; and in, but one or two years what chance for change; in four or five they might cer- tainly hope for a much greater; in that time James McDonald might attain to a position to make him an object to be sought after. Mary was not so very sanguine as to the first part of this proposition. She knew her brother's impatience too well in the most trivial matters to be so very certain of his acting with such pro- priety in so important a case; yet none could be more hopeful than was she of her brother's future, should nothing occur to darken his spirit-this was what troubled her in this affair. Very little attention was given by Wilson or his child companion to the services at the school- house; the mind of the latter was too much ab- sorbed with the contents of her brother's letter to think of anything else, while Willie was turn- ing over and over in his mind Mary's manner of receiving the intelligence which he had commu- nicated. Not so much on account of the influence this intelligence might exert over any' one inter- ested was it that he gave the matter so much thought, as the clear peep which the shy child had given him of her real character, which was much more that of a woman than a child. He smiled, as well he might, when he remembered that he was but two years older-in years more of a child than Mary according to the usual compari- sons of the world, but he felt as did every one else that his childhood so full of trial had ex- ercised over him a wonderfully maturing influ- ence, and in the famliy of farmer McDonald he knew he was regarded as the eldest among their children; to him had been intrusted the teaching of the younger members in many branches of study, while no one would dream of such a thing as James or David acting in any other capacity than amuser or tormentor of the boys or Amy ; and then his reading had been of that vigorous and improving kind which had greatly aided in the forming of his real character. At first this solid reading had been commenced to gratify grandma McDonald, who, as other amusements and occupations failed her, fell back upon what had been the delight of her girltiood-- but very soon he found in those long quiet even- ings a double enjoyment, and when he reached the age of sixteen he would have shamed many a man, who counts himself learned, by his supe- rior knowledge of history and nice taste in the refined and poetic authors which had found their way to the farmer's book-shelves. Had this moth- erless boy been at heart purely sefish, he could not have acted in a way more conducive to his own interest, for while he had ministered to the enjoyment and improvement of those who had be- friended him in his sorest extremity, he had been treasuring up knowledge which even now was giving him a position and influence far superior to his years-and this would be the result, almost universally, could the young be made to consider the happiness of those around them worth a. small sacrifice from themselves ; but this is one thing which can alone be taught by constant ex- ample. On their way home, Mary and Wilson spoke very seriously of James, and what should be writ- ten to him, and their conclusion was that it was better to wait until he confided his secret to them, ere they ventured any cautions or remonstrances. As to his telling this Henrietta Farnham of the interest they had all felt in her ever since that Christmas day, neither Wilson or Mary could see what should prevent his doing it; indeed both concluded that they owed it to her, so much lisp- piness as she had, through her noble dog, been instrumental in securing to them, yet Mary could not get rid of her anxiety when David rallied her on her new fancy in attending the prayer meet- ing, she found it very difficult to answer him in any thing like her usual manner, and then the thoughtless boy declared she was becoming Meth- ('diat, and that they should none of them be per- mitted to speak but in just such a tone after this But after a time, by Willie's interference, 1)avid became interested in something besides tormnent- ing his sister, and thed, according to the custoti of the old school Presbyterians, with the deepen- ing of the twilight the family began to asttnw their week-day amusements and occupations, and a very merry time they had of it, giving Mary a full opportunity to recover her usually quiet mood. "And when are we to see you again, Willie, my dear boy ?" asked Mrs. McDonald as th y were about to say good night; "all wdi be in too much of a hurry to-morrow morning to give us a chance to say a word but good-bye, so every thng else must be got through with to night, will yin come home at the end of another month ? for I am not sure that we shall not all be longing fir 'the repetition of this cheering visit long before that time." "And I shall 1ht g to see you, mint r, as well as all the rest here, but don't think I could sk Mr. Phelps to pare inc again so soon. 'Iy have a great crowd of business, and I how it was very inconvenient for hini to let no comn' now ; but he had told father that I shtoid, after a month's trial, come ihonie and let )ou all knou how I was pleased, and he is not a man to break an engagement in even so small a thing. It from what I heard him say to one of the rolde clerks, I am sure he wouldn't approvo of fre- queit visits ; he said success in trade depended more upon a willingness to apply oreselI cli wly. being always found in one's place, than upoua any peculiar shrewdness ; that in this tie must hrlie themselves during their a pprenticeship, if thbey would practice it when they should become prin- cipals in an establishment; so 1 have resolved to deny myself another s isit 'till Christ mas, fory Iu know, mother, 1 don't calculate to be cleih always, and I would commence learnin g the most important things first to insure to mtyo'lf success in my business ; besides I wouldn't put N r Phelps, kitid as he is, to t he inconvetietnceeof sparing me again through the hurry ing asont." "Not until Christmas !' was the exelaintiotin which passed around the little circle, and the tone in which it was spoken told that no one felt over-cheerful at the prospect of so prolonged a separation. But the old grandmother, who was ever ready -with her word of encouragement, wheni she saw one of her chibIren striving at a difficult task, now put all the murmurers to si- lence. "Haud your murmuring, my bairne ; would ye - - - iJ i. i I page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 148 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. hae the laddie lose the guid will o' his maister for and long ride, was not unwelcome; and then each ain visit to his hame ? can ye nae understand it one had his or her questions to ask about his visit, maun be mair trying to him this being separated as well as father, mother, brothers and sisters, from all o' us, than to us wha are left a' together ? and right heartily the boys laughed at some of the and yet ye a' gie the boy a discouraging word in- answers to their questions, making up their minds stead o' cheering him in his manly resolve. But that the McDonald boys must be the finest fel- dinna ye mind them,Willie ; yer visit '11 be a' the lows in the world. Wilson wished those he sweeter that ye hae nae displeased yer maister.' had left at home could witness his welcome back "Yes, Willie, mother's right. Mr. Phelps has to the house of his employer; to him there was mnore elim upon you now than we have, and as nothing like hardship in serving those who were much as we niay miss you, I am glad to know that so kind, yet many a boy might have been in this you realize your duty to him; he'll be a good family and found Mr. Phelps an exacting master, master to you, I am confident, and after all, child- while from his wife they would have received ren, it will be only six weeks longer to wtit." nothing but cold civility, and the children been The children were not convinced that six in their behavior overbeariuig and disagreeable. weeks was such a very little matter to be added Wilson had no idea he had any hand in the treat- to a month, but their grandmother's rebuke had meant he received, for he had been so accustomed silenced them; as to Mrs. McDonald, she was to amusing the younger children at home, he too earnest a mother to have a selfish thought would have thought of nothing else here; and to when it was the good of a child which was in be thoughtful and obliging towards his elders, consideration, and now with much cheerfulness was it not a perfectly natural thing ? Yet it was she said: to this same gentlemanly, obliging spirit, that he "Two months and a half will soon be gone, my owed his extreme good fortune of having such an children, and may be Mr. Phelps will let us keep excellent place, and, to the teachings of his home, Willie till New Year's, so we shall all feel-doubly to a mother's careful training, it was that he was rewarded for our long, waiting. Poor Jemmie!' indebted for this same gentlemanly, obliging if he could come too we would have a happy Now spirit. Year." According to his and Mary's conclusion, he "No, no, Mary, we musn't think of that, it is wrote a long letter in answer to the one he had too far and we must all wait with patiencQ till received front James, and every line was expres next summer,-then we'll have the noisy fellow sive of affection and good spirits. But when, af with us a good long two months," was the far- ter a fortnight's impatient waiting, a short, testy mer's answer to his wife's motherly wish to see dispirited epistle came from James, he felt n her first-born. little disappointment. It told him that severa Willie and Mary exchanged glances at the days before his "long delayed answer" had beer mention of James' name, and in her heart the received, Henrietta Farnham had been summoned latter prayed that he might indeed return to by her father to join him in a neighboring city them as gay spirited as he had left; and over and from thence they were to proceed ti the placid face of grandma there passed a cloud Europe. at the thought of how long a time must pass ere " And so," he went on to say,1" I shall proba she should look upon the dear boy's face again. bly never meet her again; you, of course, can hav On the following morning the good-byes were no idea of the torture such a thoughtgivesme; ye heartily said, and now that all had made up their I could have believed, gratitude for the kindnes minds to Christmas as the time for the next visit, she showed you long years ago might have give all spoke of it with the same cheerfulness they you a shadow of interestin her. if it was nothing would have spoken of one month's time. to you that she had become a part of my exii The Phelps family had but just breakfasted tence ; but I see I was too confident, and it ha when Wilson surprised them by his arrival, and blasted all my hopes. Had I not trusted in you s the warm and satisfied greeting he received from entirely, I should have told her how worthle his emplotyer was most gratifying. As to the must my life be, if she could not cheer me wit children, they were wild with delight, to have her presence; but I waited-aye waited, Wilso their dear, obliging Willie back, and Mrs. Phelps' Harley, and it.has made my life a blank! To yo reception told he was no less a favorite with her this may be a small thing. I doubt not it is. Yo than with the boys. Delia, with the true spirit wrote as calmly-as indifferently as had you be of a woman, hastened to get for the youth a hot speaking of the most unimportant matter, but f cup of coffee, which,- after his early breakfast this I could have forgiven you, had your letti 1 { e it L1 n d r -t ,8 ns d0 ,8 th sII n31 F J THE MOTHERLESS BAIRN. 49 reached me a few days sooner. Foolishly I re- heart; but ifhe could be useful to others it woud solved to conceal the state of my feelings from he ahlllie could ask. my darling Hettie, till I should receive an answer Poor Mary sympathized with her brother deep to my long and full confession to you-till I bad ly, but she was all the member of the farmwr your sanction for telling her how great was the family who knew anything of the cause if the debt which our family owed her-aid offering to great change, which to all was very aipanu in her a whole life's service, would she but accept it. the absent one; yet, although his letters to theme Then, perhaps, I might not have been left in this showed a change, pride-perhaps a fear of peing desolation; but why think of what might have laughed at by the waggirh David-made him ver y been? she is gone, and you, Wilson Harley, whom chary of his secret, and they thonuht it a chaise she even now remembers-you, whom i have to be rejoiced over. Tie was losing the frivoi- loved as a brother, are the cause; that tardy, lousness of his boyhood, and as mtueh as they haid cold letter, was all the ret-urn you had to make all loved his gay spirits, parents and grandmother for long years of affectionate confidence." were reconciled thtt they should give police i Great as was Wilson's disappointment, much the sobriety if manhood ; arid they looked fir- as he was grieved at poor James' miserable un- ward to the visit which they had been promising happy state of mind, for his life he could not help themsehes ever since his departure from hoee smiling that he should himself be set down in with increased anticipations of pleasure. Juil fault. To begin-the poor boy had made no had been the time fixed upon when this vilit "confessions," of which he spake so confidently.; should conrinueie, and it was to coutiuue through and then had he, the answer had been as prompt that and the following rmonth. as it could have been, and he avail himself of Mary's advice, which had been asked through theI poor fellow's own suggestion. As to coldness orCPteRoT ;n. indifference, that was all the spleen of a disap- It was just at the close of June; in one we k pointed lover and Well he knew James would Janes McDonald was expected home and then see it when he was able to see any thing, and in the old farm house there would be rejoicinrg would regard his own epistle as a curiosity of such as it roust do any heart good to witness absurd contradictions As he attended with extreme care and punctual- In his own aid Wilson thought it a fortunate ity to his every duty, it umst be acknowledgil thing that the matter had been permitted to go that thoughts of the quiet happy time +hey wonil no further, but he would not tell his brother third; have ini grand's roomi made the hea rt of Mr but wrote full of kindness and sympathy, Oeg- l'thelps' dry goods clerk a little sad,-iot eeol ing him hope for the best; that would this young that they would all be so happy, but that he could ging imot he with them tie; et such regrets diii seemt; girl have listened with favor to his declarations not be with tem fo yesh reetidlseem of lvehadhe ecoe a objct f sdicentin-unreaisonable, for w bile J ames had been till these of love, had he becatme an object oif sfflioient in tell niiiniths awaly, without for one look inrg iili terest to herfor this, she would not forget hin: tnc ofthese dar faces or hearing on upofamilir but in all his letter, Wilson never alluded to the oneol tone, he had thce tnes visited their " rong accusation which had been made against .nhomebesideshftei seeig dith'rent members tit him, nor attempted in any winy to excuse or juns- tie family when busieiss had called them to the tify himself. The result was such as he believed citry would be, a sad, kind answer, asking to be for- given if anything harsh or thoughtless had been. But it is not always in one's power to aheudon said before, and pleading as his only claim fora thought or wish cause it is untreasinable, and csaidbefreatndpleadigas his extremec although Wilson McDonald would put down the Consideration, his extreme unhappiness. ~ ihta a otnal iigi rshat Before one month had passed away Wilson wish that was ontinully hre fo jiis heart- had settled (one thing in his mind, that however the wish that he could go home for just one week painful this love affair might have been to his if no more-it seemed to do no good t ll ; with broterit hd ben olloed y vry fvorblethe next breath there it was in its old place, prom- brother, it had been followed by very favorable inlentadrbliosa vra'h a op results; James' letters were more manly in their ent and rebellious as ever-as he was compel- spirit, and of the future he spoke as one who be- led to console hnself with the reflection tht gan to regard life as an earnest thing, and before would he not control his thoughts he could con- the close of the winter he told much of the deep tr, hisfaction, 1 he diddno interest he 'had grown to take in the pursuit of tent, ifohe ai ntim wuldoilieto.ea his studies, never failing to bring in now and then ho Wlon; or rtherul how likerto be tim melancholy paragraphs of the hopelessness of hi8 oe isn;o atehwsotatm 4 would satisfy you-a fortnight ? page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. This was asked by Mr. Phelps one evening as Phelps," he said, looking into his employer's face they were all lingering over the tea-table. Wil- with eyes full of grateful pleasure. "I would not son looked up surprised and inquiringly. His have asked for this, though, had you not insisted good-natured employer answered his look with upon my fixing a time." a relishing laugh, saying- "And are you sure you can be content to come "Didn't you understand me, my boy? I fan- back to us at the termination of a week's time, cied that was a kind of language which at this my boy?"' time would be particularly comprehensive to "Oh ! yes, sir, I shall feel you are too kind." you." "Well, you are a faithful fellow,Wilson ; but if "Yes, I beg your pardon, sir, for not answer- you have any consideration for my domestic hap- ing, but I was half bewildered-you must have piness or safety, you wont think of remaining at misunderstood me-I am sure I have not asked home a less time than two weeks. One would of you to allow me to go home !" think you no favorite here by the determination "And I'm never to be permitted to give or the children hnd their mother manifest to be rid grant what is not asked for, eh? Well, that is of you; and yet if you'll believe it, my boy, Mrs. rather a bad state of affairs; but are you so sure, Phelps complains bitterly if I appropriate you Wilson, that you have not asked this. My oppo- for one evening, she says the boys are quite lost site neighbor who believes herself skilled in read- without you to help and amuse them. iug the expression of eyes, declares yours have "Yes," said the mother, "and I hope the said nothing but 'home, home,' for the last week. obliging, self-denying spirit Wilson has shown She thinks a month not too long a tim'e since towards them has not been lost upon them; you your brother is to stay two months; but women have not forgotten, husband, nor have you, have no eye to business, and I don't calculate to Willie, how differently Jack 'and Billy behaved give you into my wife's hands to be disposed of list fall, when you were going home for only according to her fancy, you are too valuable to three days." me for that, yet I am disposed to give 3ou a very "We have not forgotten it, wife ; and it is my manly-that is, a rational holyday, and I'll leave opinion that before the expiration of a fortnight it to yourself how long it shall be, only set the you'll all be ready to welcome the, boy back time bn come back at its expiration." again. ! And now let we make a popsal, that "Say a month, Willie; as much as we all miss your brother James shall come to the city and you, I want you to have a good long rest," ex- spend a week or two with you; it will be a fine claimed Mrs. Phelps with animation. change for him, and we shall enjoy his society "Yes, say a month-say a month,Willie," put much!" in the boys and Delia, all clapping their htinds "And Ronald and Archie, have them come with glee. too?wouldn't we enjoy their society, Bill, hoorah! "No, no, this is not fair; I protest against it; would'nt we cut shindies ? Have 'em come, it is contrary to all rules," put in the father; but Willie, just you tell 'em we'll make 'em the the boys' shouts and clapping of htd- .arly gayest fellow s i the world; no lsna to be drowned every other sound, and it was some 1o0- learned, nothing ,ut play for two woeli." ments before the combined influence of the pa- "And who would you have him bring back rents could subdue their boisterous uproar. withhim, Delia? asked the father as soon as "Now, Willie, mind if you are not to be influx Jack would give -hin a chance to speak. enced by our suggestion, you ought not to be by "Mary and her grandma; it would be such a my husband ; so speak independently, if it is to treat to hear that dear old ladi ttll her long s 7y two--" stories-better than anything els in the world;, "Srop, stop," cried Mr. Phelps, as hisw wife I'll bet the boys would forget th-ir play to listen reached this point, "do leave the-boy achance toIto her; we wouldri't have ani rights in the chboise, or I shall adjourn the meeting ; come, out room, but a fire in the fire-place. is you do in oth your time, Wilson, or we shall all be engqg- that.splend*d room of hers at hom ; and then the cd in a pitched battle, and with the childrCn and flashing of the fine light and the d -ing shadows I hem- mother against me, my only hope would be 'on the wall, will make all her s; -ries seem so ih retreat." real." They all laughed at the speaker's look of alarm, "Upon my word, Delia, that w. ill be grand," but all seemed ready to hear Wilson's decision as answered.the father : adding with a mischievous to tie length of his visit, glance, " don't you think a fire will be rather -- hall be perfectly satisfied with a week, Mr. uncomfortable such weather as this'l" 5 1 TIlE MITHER Poor Delia, her brothers fairly shouted at such a sudden explosion of her nice bit of romance, and she was just on the eve of crying for vexa- tion, when Willie came to her rescue, turning the attention of all from the poor girl. " Oh ! Mr. Phelps, I have a favor to ask ; it would be impossible to bring all our family up here; and wild as my brothers are, father and mother would never consent to their coming to your city home; you might almost as well intro- duce wild colts into your parlors ; but out on our farm, they, with Jack and Billy, would have a chance and plenty of room to cut all the pranks they could without disturbing anybody, or injuring anything, and Delia would enjoy Mamy's company, there as much as here, besides having a chance to hear grandma tell her stories in her old fash- ioned room, which she never can unless she goes, there, for grandma never leaves home. Let them all go home with me for two or three days. I will write to mother that they are coming, and will insure them a hearty welcome, from the oldest' to the youngest member of our family." And now there arose a great discussion, in which the children took no small part; to go they were determined, and in spite of all the ob- jections which could be raised by their parents, they, with Willie's help, won a promise from their mother that, should Mrs. McDonald say she would be willing to see them, they should go, and Willie assured them they had nothing to fear, he knew how cordial would be his mother's in- vitation to the Phelps children to visit the plain old farm home. The time was the next thing to be settled, but that, Mrs. Phelps said, should be left to Wilson's mother, and Delia comforted the boys by the hint that by this arrangement they should probably go sooner than if their mother set the time, for the McDonald faunily would all be in so much of a hurry to see Willie, they would fix the earliest day possible for this journey. Willie wrote home immediately, and the boys declared that the week of waiting for an answer to' his letter would never terminate, and so troublesome were they, never for a minute still, and continually wondering would an answer come at all, and if they should go, what would be the first thing the McDonald boys would say to them, and would they prove such grand play-fellows as they expected, with a thousand other things, un- til their mother wished the matter decided as soon as they could themselves. On the morning of the very earliest day they could, with any reason, look for the arrival of the wished for letter, Willie caine bouniling into the breakfast room, flourishing an open sheet and call- LESS BAIRN. 51 ing upon Jack and Billy to join him in three cheers. This was the letter from Mrs. McDon- ald, and well might her boy be proud of it. She told how happy they were all made by the con- tents of their dear Willie's letter, and begged him to thank Mr. and Mrs. Phelps in hei-'s and his father's name ; it would be such an unexpected happiness to have their family altogether for a whole fortnight, and it would be an increased pleasure to have the younger members of the Phelps family with them; she only wished the parents could accompany their children. She had much to say of the preparations the boys were already making for the reception of their guests, while Mamy and Amy were scarcely behind them, and grandma promised some of her very best sto- ries, and then closed by fixing the beginning of the next week as their time for coming, as the excitement of James' arrival would then have passed, and if possible, she would have them there in time to enjoy those delicious strawberries which were this year unusually fine. This was almost too much for the boys to en- dure,,and Delia too was half wild with excite- ment ;--the beginning of the next week-and now it was Saturd sy. But Mrs. Phelps soon gave each one to understand there was no time to lose, for her husband and Wilson said Tows- day was the best day for a start and that would leave but two days besides Sunday for the lire- parations. And never' did the sun shine tore beautifully than on that same Tuesday morning, and never did a little party in their bright holi- day smiles seem more perfectly satisfied with their prospect, titan did the one w hich left the handsome Phelps house to take their seats in the cars, which would very quickly bear them to the end of their short journey. Mr. and Mrs. Phelps had no hesitation in entrusting their children to Wilson's care, for al- though he was young, he had gained such ani in- fluence over the boys that he could control them with less difficulty than could their parents, and their high spirited Delia regarded him as suh a perfect oracle of wisdom, it was for her enough j to know that he approved o- disapyroved of liMr actions to make her happy or wretched ; so their 1 good byes to the little traveling party were most cheering as the bell rang the moment of departure. "Mind, Willie, you are not to keep the11 be- yond Saturday, and if you cannot persuade them to come alone you must accompany them home and then return by yourself-s you are all to be as happy as ever you can for three days, and re- uneumber all about your visit that I may have tmy sthare when you return ; now away with yiiu, nmy page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. This was Mrs. Phelps' good-natured, playful and Jim might make a great ado if they were left charge to Willie and the children, and not a little at home, so the best way was to make them all did it contribute to the real enjoyment of each stay in their places like good children; but you one. There was no sighing over being left alone, know it wonti do to try 'em too much. You see no appealing to their sympathies, and no child I've come with the lumber wagon, Willie for not had a thought there was a lack of love in the knowing the size of 'all our expected visitors, I mother's heart because she smiled so brightly at thought it the safest way, and I guess it's fortu- the separation; yet how well she remembered nate, for I would'nt wonder if we should strain the time when it had been so different; it was the springs of the pleasure wagon with such a only within the last year that she had begun to load ? see how it was that a parent could make a child To his load it made little difference what almost what they wished it to be, and all by their kind of vehicle he had brought to take them home treatment of and example before itand who had in, though had it been theirs to choose, this first given her the idea which had resulted in the lumber wagon would have been preferred to any opening of her eyes to a mother's duty-the mod- thing else, for at home they had enough of car- est, unassuming farm boy, whom her husband had riage riding. Long before they reached the farm taken into his store to instruct in business; she house, Jack and, Billy had made up their minds had seen his influence over their noisy, unruly this was to be a wonderful visit, and while boys, whom no one had ever thought of calling Delia was a little puzzled by the young farmer's anything but pests and torments, and the ques- half quizzical and half gallant manner towards tion had come up-if a stranger can by patience her, she was not at all displeased with him. and kindness do this, why could not a mother do When they got in sight of the house, all were much more? and already she began to see good re- positive they were expected with no little im- sults from her experiment. patience by some of the family, for there were Swiftly the cars flew over the road, and when the two boys Ronald and Archie, each decorating at last they reached the station, which was the a gate post, while Amy, tailing of a loftier perch terminus of the Phelps party's noisy ride, the occupied the top of the gate. But soon they first object which met ,Wilson's eye was his saw the young ones were not alone in their im- father's horses and wagon, and an instant after, patient eagerness for nearly every member of the before the cars had fairly stopped, David's eager McDonald family were upon the porch waiting face was thrust in the door, immediately followed for the arrival of their guests, and no sooner had by his stalwart form, and such a hearty shout of the wagon stopped at the gate, than all crowded welcome as made many a passenger look around around with their glad greetings. inquiringly to see the recipients of such a genuine Wilson lost no importance in the opinion of greeting. The young man grasped Willie by the Phelps by the reception his family gave him, both hands, and then welcomed his young com- and not only the boys but Delia, too, felt them- panions. The eyes of both the boys sparkled selves fortunate in being his companions, so dis- with delight, in a moment David was just the fel- tinguished as he seemed by all. Before a half low for them; in his ,salutation- to Delia, there hour had passed the strangers were as much at was no lack of gallantry, yet he whispered aside home with their new friends as though they had to his brother- known them for years. Jack and Billy were out "And this is the girl whose ears you were to with the McDonald youngsters, taking a survey pull; why didn't you tell us what a witch she of their play ground, and getting a list of the was, you sly rogue ?" plays which were in high favor with these coun- "Oh, no !" broke in Jack, who was ready for try lads-'ball," they thought fine sport as well anything-" he don't pull Delia's ears, but Miss as "flying kites ;" then there were "tag" and Parks does awful sometimes-Willie never pulls "gool," or if Any wanted to play with them "I anybody's ears. spy" and "hide and seek" and ever somany others. "Ile don't,, eh !-well I do," was David's an- "And marbles,,you.play marbles, don't you ?" .swer as he shook the merry little fellow by his questioned Billie. unfortunate auricular member-"but, come on, "No, Archie and I have wished ever so many are these boys and bundles all the baggage you times that we could see marbles played, for have ? the folks at home will be in my hair if I'm we've read so much about them in our story one minute over necessary time; the boys were books; but father says they are very bad things bound to come with me, and if they did, father fdf boys, so we wouldn't play withthem for any said Amy must come too, and I thought grandma thing." i. THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. "Not play marbles," cried Jack and Billy in a playfellows-had acquired that fatal passion, breath at this item in country morality. "And which had cost the heart of those who loved him where's the harm in playing marbles I'd like to so many a bitter pang, jpd Jack resolved to tell know I our father lets us play all we want to." his parents, on his returA home, all that Mr. Mc- Jack said this in a way not altogether expres. Donald had said of that which they had ever con- sive of pleasure. sidered an innocent amusement. "Oh! we don't know anything about them any But while the boys had become acquainted, way you see, but what father says ain't right why quiwrreled, peace made, had a grand Play, aud you don't blame us for thinking there must be listened to a discourse, on mora l,-th ret Of something wrong about ? If you'd ask father the house hold had not been idle, Delia Phelps he'd tell you why he thought it bad for boys to was charmed with every thing and every body: play marbles; but we could never have played, All was so diterent from what she could have for we never had any, and so we were satisfied expected. David, she thought the very drollest with knowing father thought it not such a very being in the world,-yet he was good looking, and good play for boys." Archie said this in a sooth- in spite of his tow cloth clothing was very gentle- ig conciliatory way. manly. Him she had first met and in her mind ttAh, Ic ee it now; we could'nt be fooled in he deserved the first place in impoitance. James that way, could we Jack? he tells you all that was much taller, much more city-fied, and many story 'cause he don't want to give you money to might have thought much handsomer, indeed buy marbles and it would be hard to keep from Delia pronounced him good enough looking, on it if you teased real bad-father's tried such ho was very like hundreds of people she had things sometimes but we aint to be taken in in seen before, so there was nothing in him worthy that kind of way.' of particular notice. The middle-aged farmer "But our father wouldn't say a thing lie didn't looked to her the very man of all others to call think," said Ronald, proudly, "he would give us " father ;" and when he kissed her on each cheek money or not as he thought best, to buy play- telling her how glad he was, she had come to visit things, but he wouldn't tell a lie." them, the enthusiastic girl longed to throw her arms Archie, who was much more gentle than his round his neck and give him a good hugging as brother, again interfered, saying they would ask she so often did around her own dear father' sat their father to explain where was the harni in this home. And then the boys, in their brown trous- play which had become the subject of dispute, ers, and shirts white as snow, looked as though and although Billy and Ronald had both come they had not a wish ungratified, and for all their very near losing their tempers, but a moment wild spirits, behaved so nicely towards their was required to make them the best natured boys brothers and sisters and to her spoke in such a in the world, and long before dinner was ready respectful way it was most flattering to the the four were deep in the enjoyment of a grand young girl. Mrs. McDonald in her plain, snowy game at ball, and the McDonalds quickly regain- cap, and simple calico dress, wias just such a ed the ground which they had come near losing woman Delia thought as the had so often in the opinion of their city friends by acknow- read of in stories, but never before seen; ledging themselves ignorant of a most popular she spoke so cheerfully, and laughed in such play. When farmer McDonald, with his three a happy way, although her quiet eyes were filled grown up song, went out to enjoy the game by with tears, but they must have been tears of looking on, Jack Phelps, with the assurance of a gladness that her children were all once niore town-bred boy, asked him to explain his grounds with her. To Delia it looked such a strange for objectingto marbles. thing to see thebe grown up, manly soNs kiss The farmer complied without hesitation, and their mother as coaxingly as they would havoe the city youths were completely silenced when kissed a child. As to Mary, she seemed plain they were not only told but plainly shown that and shy, until she raised her large brown eyes, this their favorite sport was gambling; they had then Delia thought her very beautiful. Amy was both heard of the evils of gambling-their parents much like other little girls-blue-eyed, sunny. had come to have good reason to dread this alarm, faced, and full of fun. But it was in grandma ing vice, for their eldest son--their first-born, McDonald, whom she had been so curious to see, was too often found in those dens of immorality ; whose stories she had dreamed of as being the yet neither parents nor children had ever dream- maost charming entertainment in the world, it ed that his first lessons for ruin had been taken was in her that Delia found the chief object of in upeu the pavement ; that there he-among his terest ; in her quaint, kind greeting this old lady page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN; exercised over the young girl that power which forgotten the time when he had been a partici- the aged should ever possess over the young pator in like scenes ; and although Mary was not mind. And thus in the first hour or two of her quite so demonstrative in her enjoyment in watch- visit Delia had formed something of an opinion ing the boys as was her new friend,the flashing of of each member of the farmer's family. her usually pale cheek and dancing of her eyes, told her not an indifferent spectator. But dear little Amy-was in an agony of enjoy- CHAPTER VIII. meant ; she could not have told which of the gay "Fainter her silow step falls from day to day, fellows she would see victorious, so let whoever Death's hand is heavy on her dark'nirig brow,'t Yet doth she fondly cling to earth and say win that might, her cheering,fand laughing, and 'I am content to die, but Oh I not now - .hand-clapping were most vociferous. None to Spars me, Great God lift up my drooping brow, have witnessed the united happiness of this I am content to die, but Oh I not now.'" LNoRTON. family circle, could havQ deemed it possible that Wilson McDonald was much gratifi ad to find disunion or bitterness could ever find its way his brother James not so very much changed. among them, or that the misfortunes or sorrows To be sure his manner was more gentle, as well of life could cause one heart to beat indifferently as more manly, than it had been a year ago, but for any one of that loving band. And with such after all his despairing letters, he was now so far a well-regulated house-with such parents-there from melancholy that the alteration in his habits seemed . small room for forebodings; their gave his family no anxiety, but rather pleasure. happiness seemed as secure as happiness may be With the boys and Amy he was now as an in a world where all is so uncertain. The thoughts elder brother, more ready to interest them by ac- of the parents and grandmother were not confined counts of what he had seen and heard during his to that company of sporters, as with their eyes absence, than to torment them by interfering with they watched, their quick, graceful movements, their sports or toys; yet, even now he was not a so expressive of life, health and happiness ; each bad play fellow as he showed on the very after- one had seen too much of the world not to feel noon of the day on which Wilson arrived at that the cares and trials of life must soon begin home, by calling upon him and David to join in to be felt by some, at least, of their offspring, an active frolic which the younger boys were en- and the mother's heart grew heavy with anxiety joying much, and which they liked none the less as she thought how sad night be the change, that these three well-grown lads were volunteer which even one short year could bring to those assistants; and in his cheerfulness it was plain bright young faces; and, as a mother has so often to see there was nothing forced. done, she wondered in what shape would sorrow To Wilson this Was not wholly unexpected- first come to those whom she had trained and h had hoped much from James' natural lightness guarded with such prayerful love; and the prayer of heart, but he soon began to feel the advantage then uppermost in her heart was : certainty possessed over a hopeful uncertainty; " Father, lead them not into temptation-save and the Phelps boys were astonished to find that them from transgression-though sorrow may be their father's sedate and very wise clerk could their portion. Oh! shield them from sin or shout with laughing, until the echoing hills rang shame." again. It was not strange that mournful thoughts From the porch the game was watched by the should come to intermeddle with this mother's farmer and his wife, as well as by grandma, with joy. To her dear ones she was : the same she a face so full of happy contentment, none could had ever been ; even those who had been sepa- doubt her participation in the enjoyment of her rated from her for long months detected no children. The old lady's nicely cushioned, high- change in that sweet face which had ever been backed chair had been brought out and placed in too delicate for health, yet she was herself con- the very coolest spot by Mary and the delighted scions of the gradual waning of her strength- Delia, and when its occupant had settled herself her constitution, naturally fragile, had little by in it, the two girls had taken their places, one on little yielded under the cares and labors which either side of her, occupying low stools,while Nep- had rented upon her, and often times of late the tune, sleek and glossy notwithstanding his great thought had come unbidden, that before many age, had his cushion in front of the matron, be- years at farthest,and perhaps in a few months her tween her two younger companions ; and the oc- children would be left motherless-and one casional slight elevation of his long ears, as he heart, whose every joy and grief was her own, so watched the merry sporters, showed he had not sadly desolately widowed-yet to no one, not THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 5 even to that dearer self, had she breathed aught rietta-is a silent partner in the house in which I of these sad convictions. She would see all bright am clerk; I had been quite ignorant of this until and joyous while they might be, and quietly was about a month ago, when Mr. Phelps chanced to she putting her house in order, getting all in speak to his wife of Mr. Farnham having written readiness for that time when hands and mind him from Cleveland on some matters of business would no longer have strength for life's labors- connected with the interest of the house. He for that sadder time for her household when said, this man had declared his intentions ofcom- heart should be still, and kands folded in death. ing East, if he could find a desirable school in In these preparations, there was but one to which to place his daughter, one in which she whom she could look for help, and with her would be quite safe from all intrusion. Mrs. wonted tenderness, she guarded her every word Phelps' answer to this was, that if he was not and action, that none should read her heart, that careful he would lose this only child of his, which the cloud descend not upon their home before its he seemed to guard with such a suspicious eye; time! She knew there would be too much of that he hd no sooner found a safe asylum for her, watching in agony of soul, when the destroyer murder the eye of one that could be trusted, than should have made himself visible to every eye, withooit any reason-save that he missed her so- for the past had taught her too well the meaning ciety, or wished her company on a journey, or of that short, fevered cough, and until that time something of that kind-he would remove her she would be schooling her heart for the separa- She said, she considered it a great misfortunle tion that she felt was inevitable, that then she she being an only child to such a man-one who should be strong to comfort and uphold those to had no confidencein the world! I could make no whom this trial must be too grievous yet, amidst inquiries, for you know to the Phelpses I am a all these painful r-flections, she mingled with her McDonald-they having no knowledge of moy re-united family with the same apparent cheer- early history. Not only on your account, but also fulness, her voice and laugh had the same sweet, on my own, I would have asked a question or happy sound they had possessed since ever she two, could I have done it without appearing h- had a wife'e-a mother's joy. pertinent; but I could not! and so far as you are As this mother witnessed the gay sporting of concerned, I comforted myself with thinking you her boys, now little 'less thaa men, she thought iad probably managed to inform yourself as to how quickly would every voice be hushed,-how this girl's whereabouts, for I have always heard suddenly would every face lose its joyous light, love is wonderful in inventive power. could they look at the future as it lay before " But do you know, James, there is something them 1 But none feit there was a shadow-over- in this matter which makes me very uncomnforta. hanging their nmue, so they joyed in the present ble; why it is, I cannot tell-whether for you or as those who begin to feel life is an earnest thing, myself, Im unable to determine! his desire to and play hoxre are few and each day growing put this child of his in a safe asylum-has it any fewer. thing to do with your attachment for her ?" It was evening before Wilson and James found James had listened with very perceptible anx- themselves quietly alone; ali had been too much iety, his step being quick and nervous, but he had given to hilarity and rejoicing, for them, the two made no attempt to interrupt the speaker by a heroes of the day, to withdraw themselves ; but question. When Wilson paused with his last en- as twilight deepened, for very weariness alh set- quiry, the young man said in a firm voice: tIed themselves into itte social knotsaiid these " I don't know at all, Willie; there seenos two withdrew froma the rest for an hour in the something very peculiar about this movement, cooler atmosphere of the garden. yet to none but you have I ever said a word of " go after all you are not so widely separated this matter-not even to Hettie herself-though from this girl as you dreamed you were to be, I am now confident she has some suspicions of James?" Wilson said this in a banteing way. my love for her, and I believe, if she does "But how should you know this, Willie? I not return it, that I am not an object of indiffcr- had calculated on telling you when I should see once to her! This makes me look to the (uture you, but Pm sure I've never hinted a word of hopefully. As to her fater's movements, I their act having gone to Europe, ina any of my think-indeed I am eonfident-I have some in- letters."- fluence over them ; yet why I should have, I am " Nor have you, but I heard of it in the most wholly at a loss to tell. I knew these two had natural way, though lIsnow it must surprise you, notgone to Europe, for near the close of winter, as it did me. Mr. Farnham-the father of lien- cousin Chloe received a letter from Hfettie, page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] THE MITHERLESS BAIRN.' If1 i . , j 'I,.._ 5 telling of their traveling in the South, and of James, it doesn't amount to that; but more a their tour abroad being postponed to an indefinite sensation of discomfort which may probably be period; she said she was home-sick, and was easily accounted for in connection with this man's writing to get rid of the blues; that for the first treatment of me years ago ;. and knowing that I time in her life she was writing contrary to her am now in his employ-for notwithstanding his father's orders or wishes. But it was a disobe- being, what they call, a silent partner, he has an dience that she considered pardonable, as there authority, an iinuence which , as clerk in the could be no earthly harm done in letting a young house, must acknowledge, and which, should he girl friend know where she was and how lope- come hero and become aware of my being that some she was feeling after that delightful fort- poor outcast he treated in such an unmanly way, night in Boston. Where they should- go next it he might make me feel in anything but a pleasant was impossible to say, for, kind and tender as situation. A man who could cherish such a bit was her father to her, he never seemed to think ter hate for a dog as not to be wiliFng that his his calculations contained any interest for her; name should be spoken in his presence, we might yet, so good a parent as he was, Ae could not with good reason expect such a man toremember complain of this which seemed but a way of his his unaccountable antipathy to an unoffending ever reserved in referring to plans and calcula- child even after long years; and to me it would tons. She closed by saying, as this kiter had not seem injustice to dread such a disposition, let been written without her father's permission, she it be possessed by man or woman." would -rather Chloe would show it to no one, "But there isu't the least'chance of his know- and ifnot contrary to her parent's orders, not ing anything of this, is I think there is hardly mention having received it. It was to, this last one of our neighbors b-ut has forgotten that in request or charge that I probably owed my truth you are not a McDonald, a&d standing as good fortune in getting a peep at the precious you do in Mr. Phelps' favor, he wont be apt to epistlet With the honor of young girls general- question your parentage. I am sure it I had no ly, Chloe resolved to keep Hettie's secret, but more reason for anxiety than you, have, I would finding it impossible to do so alone, she got me to leave my heart perfectly easy, so far as this man help her. Since this I have heard nothing of her, is concerned. With me it is so different, though and I'm ConDfident Chloe has not, for she is a very I have great confidence in the future-mueh clever girl, and has made up her mind that her greater than I had beforeyou told me of what Mr. friend feels more than a common interest in me,. Phelps said, for it seems that this way of acting though I have guarded my secret so well, that is no new thing, and now his keeping his calcu- with all her perception she has no suspicions of lations for the future a secret from his child has my love for Hettie." ' no relation to me, hut is probably a caprice, a James said this last with a confident pride. peculiarity in his disposition ; indeed, I have which went far in proving to Wilson the girl made up my mind, he must be something of a Chloe's cleverness, for while she had evidently misanthrope so far as everything and everybody made herself the possessor of her cousin's secret, in the world, save Hettie, may be considered, and she had made him believe she had no suspicions her fondness for old Neptune, more than anything of it; he smiled as he thought how easy a thing else, was his real grounds for disliking the dog. it was to blind a mind so preoccupied, but his I don't know as Icould-so much blame him either, companion recalled him to the subject that con- for had I any claims upon her, Tm not so sure tained great interest to both of them. that I should be willing to see her lavishing ca- "But I cannot see, Willie, why this man's resses upon even a brute." movements should give you any anxiety cn your "So she would have no hope of escaping tyran- own aceount; you surely cannot think he could ny, were you to become her guardian instead of have any wish to harm you for so small an offeuce this strange father," said Wilson in a bantering as making a bedroom of his porch, and that so tone. "You shouldn't have told of this Jemmie, many years ago-even if he knew that you and I may play disinterested friend to one who once that poor boy were the same-which of course did me such great service, by betraying to her he can have no knowledge of?' your Blue-Beard character, and so put her upon The tone of the speaker had in it something ex- her guard, that she need not jump from the frying pressive of conscious superiority of judgment, but pan into the fire." Wilson had too much good stnse to be wounded, James laughed at this rallying, ha-;ing no or even-irritated by it. thought that all that he had said in reply to his "couldn't call the feeling I have anxiety, foster brother's very natural uneasiness had 56 ' I 1 1 . {ii$ i jj i S , f' ' y t j } i! t o set down his anxiety in the category of old ened-" The Genius of Roselhnd'--while thi womanishness, he resolved to say nothing more sweet faced farmer's wife, at iher side, played hi r of it, not from a sense of pique, but from the part as " Queen" in a most fascinatiag way. But conviction that one who had not looked upon this for Archie and Ronald, those city youths would man's face, could have no idea of what might be have gone through with the whole porormmont' expected, or feared of him-particularly an ar- in a most decorous manner, for to them all this dent lover of the daughter, who thought of the was just as real as anything else they had st-en in person in question as the parent of his darling- this home; but these two country lads w ct' who had it in his power to bestow or withhold a quite unable to suppress their laughter, very great treasure ! when they saw their young friends taking it The visit to the farm house passed most de- all in such an earnest way, and so the viion a lightfully; nothing on the part of the McDonalds well as the wits of the city visitors were a little was neglected not the smallest thing that could sharpened, and they discovered that they luul add to the comfort or pleasure of their young done what to them was in truth an out-of tlie- city guests. Busy as was the season, all labor, way thing-saluted their wn sister with t he save that which hired hands could perform un- same respect they would have saluted a grown it assisted, was suspended, and the kind farmer al- up lady. The half ashamed boy s for a nitinwitlt lowed himself to be coaxed into the manufactur- felt quite chagrined, but very s1o(m they forgot ing of cross-guns, bows and arrows, and kite everything but emujoymient, as what boys pos sitsr frames, as well as tying fish-hooks on lines, load- ing good taste would not, with such a feast spread ing them with sinkers, and a hundred other things out before them? As, for Delia, she miade up for the boys ; while for the girls there were her mind that all city people had better come swings to be put up, fanciful bowers to be adorn- to the country to study politenmn us, for never it ed, in which work arms longer thami their own her life had she seen anything equm to the niie were required, and in which they would invite behavior of not only James and Willie, liut all the family at evening time to partake of their David, with all his dhullery, paid cturt to tlhi nicely prepared repast of strawberries and the Genius and Queen of the Feast, in mia ny wh-ictm most luscious-cream. she was quite sure no city friend of hers ctinld In this last work the father was their ready equal; and very much she wondered at it, haliiung helper, and sometimes even accompanied the ever heard that genuine politeness commes frtomii three girls on their happy expeditions to gather goodness of heart. the rich fruit which at evening they served ttp Tins young girl hal heard of ihe country oftt i, to their brothers with such pride. Any one f enough, but while she haid looked to enjoy Pig liti the 'three grown up boys would have been very visit, what her young friends had told hr ofii imomeit Jack and Billy Phtelps were awed into the most dignified behavior, looking upon the three young girls, who stood roaly to serve ttin, as strangers, not recognizing their own site in her fantastic decoration of 11w ci ; and the h.11 grandma occupying the seat of honor at the eal of the table, her high backed chair bedeelo d with roses, they; were inclined to believe her really what she had been for the occasion clrit- t C f 1 1 1 i I I I For the last month he had not been able to get rid of the feeling of discomfort, that the man who had given him such cause to remember him as destitute of the most common humanity, was a partner in the house, where he had already gained so firm a foothold, yet to no one would he have spoken of this, had not he and James pos- sessed a common interest in this peculiar person, and when he found that his brother was inclined THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 57 shown him so self-absorbed, that any one less glad to have taken the gallant father's plaeo in considerate than Wilson would have set him this not unpleasant labor, but the girls had their down as supremely selfish ; and now the two choice, and the young amen were compelled b) went on talking most cheerfully of the prospects their father's decision tp remain igniorant of the of the elder child of the McDonald household, result of all the flitting hither and tlhither of and when an hour after, they joined the family Delia, Mfiaimy and Amny, until such time as he, the in the big old fashioned sitting room, there were "Lord Chamberlin"-for the girls had digt ifietl no traces of anxietytupon either face ; yet for all ! him with that title-should admit them as gu t this powet of concealing from every one his little to their fairy-like reception bitower. troubles, Wilson had those that-notwithstand- On the first occasion of tmis kind which w as ing his firm faith in that Power which had upheld the evening of the day following the arri al of him, when there was none near to help-some- the city party, the guests were mll charuwd n hem times weighed heavily upon his young mind. they entered the fidry like 'chamber, and for a page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 THE MITHER country youths and maidens, had prepared her to have many a laugh at the expense of the McDon- ailds ; for how young ladies could frequent the kitchen, could delve into all the mysteries con-' nected with cooking, butter-making, and the' like, to say nothing of cow-milking, and still know anything of politeness would have been a mystery to any one of Delia's friends as it was to her; and to see a farmer's son, with his sunburnt cheeks, and hands brown and callous from hard work and exposure, so gentlemanly and self- possessed in his manners-as much at home- when acting the polite as when holding the plough, was a greater mystery still. Delia's city associates, who regarded all country youths as boors, would have wondered, as she did, how two things so incompatible-labor and politeness- could be practiced by any one person with such ease, and a few days spent in the McDonald family would have explained it to them as it did to Delia-that what one is accustomed to from infancy, must ever be practiced with grace- when by sons and brothers, mother and sis- ters are regarded as first and most deserving among all woman kind, of their love and atten- tion every other woman must receive from them that delicate attention which is ever most grati- fying to a true womanly heart. Delia was yet' too young to arrange her newly acquired ideas, yet had they been brought into shape, they would have differed very little from the foregoing con- clusion, and not in years-no, not in her whole life did she forget this most delightful lesson ac- quired from this first visit in a farmer's home. After an hour's indulgence in fun,frolic and straw berry eating, and to the Phelps children this last 'was not the least important part of the perform- ance-by the prudent suggestion of grandma Mc- Donald, the whole company adjourned to her own room, where she was in truth the reigning genius, and where by one of her most entertain- ing and instructive stories, she subdued the mad spirits of the younger portion of the family into a most quiet listening mood. Even her own children, who had spent so manydelightful hours listening to her never failing stories, listened this evening with an interest they had seldom felt, and Delia thought it was no wonder this family were happy, the possessors, as they were, of such a living story book; and at last she settled the question which had greatly puzzled her, that could she choose from the treasures of this home which would she take ? Grandma was certainly the one most to be coveted, and long after she was in bed she was livig over the events of the day- the most delightful day that in all her short life LESS BAIRN. she could remember having spent. She would have said before this, that a man must lose his importance if he would condescend to mingle with children in their sports, yet when had she ever seen a father more respected by his children than was this farmer, who had entered with such real enjoyment into the amusements of the day- and mother and grand-mother, although they gave themselves up so entirely to the amusing of their children, not hesitating to play to perfection the part assigned them, not for a moment did even the wild Archie or Ronald' lose sight of that deferential love which characterized their man- ner towards these two. Delia had seen this, yet it was one thing, she could not quite understand; with girls she would not have been surprised perhaps that such man- agement should work well; but with harum sea- rum boys-that was what puzzled her, and yet she had not failed to observe that her own not over civil brothers had never behaved with such praiseworthy propriety as on this evening. The cause of this might have puzzled older heads than Delia's, for very few parents learn in the whole course of training their children the thousand opportunities they let slip of improving and influencing those so dear to them, to say nothing of giving them greater enjoyment -and securing to themselves a greater-by neglecting to mingle with and assist them in their childish pleasures. They seem not to realise that as a child behaves in the play ground or in the play room towards his or her associates, so, with scarcely an exception, must they act towards those with whom they come in contact when they shall come to fill the position of men and women, and in this great school for forming not only mind and manner, but heart too, these tender un- trained beings are left without a guide; and who canwonder, that the end is too often soul sickening-may we not rather wonder that any escape the polluting touch of vice? When wo- men. and men, too, learn that the most noble thing they can do in this bfe is to watch over with tenderness and wisdom that richest gift which heaven can bestow upon earth's children- their offspring-when in their griefs, their studies, their amusements they come to join as sympa- thizers, helpers, and participators, then and only then must there be a falling off from dram shops and gambling houses, and then may we hope to have penitentiaries and poor houses unoccupied. But Delia's thoughts were nothing of the sort, but such as, under the circumstances, might have occupied any otherflfteen year old girl-wishing that her own dear mother did not so easily tire of THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. talking with her, of answering her questions and assisting her in her studies, and that for once in her life she could see both her parents playing the child, as she had seen it played by the digni- fied farmer and his wife on this delightful even- ing. During their three days' stay, there was no falling off of enjoyment with these city children, but when Saturday morning arrived, and Wilson told them they must, during the forenoon, take their last draught of country enjoyment, for at noon they were to take the cars home, which was in accordance with their mother's wish, no one uttered a word of murmuring ; in truth, they looked to the going home with anticipated pleas- ure-their visit had been so delightful, so full of novelties, would there not be enough to talk about for- a whole week ? When Wilson prepared to accompany them to the city, they all begged of him to send them alone and not for their sakes deprive himself of a half day of his delightful fortnight at home. The youth was much gratified by this unexpected thoughtfulness on the part of the boys, but he had no chance to thank them, for David broke in up- on their couheil, making the declaration that he had made up an independent etrawberrying par- ty-as yet, it was composed of hhnself alone, but volunteers would be received with equal pleas- ure. And not many minutes was it before the gay young farmer had the satisfaction of piling brothers, sisters and guests all into the lumber wagon, for weie they to walk, he said, nobody would do anything but eat as fast as they should gather the berries when they reached the mea- dow, and his object in the expedition was quite a different one. He wished to give the mother of their young visiters a taste of their country luxu- ries; the berries they should gather were to be his offering to Mrs. Phelps, and until their largest basket was filled, no one of the company was to be allowed to regale him or herself with even a single taste, no matter how tempting they might be. Delia and her brothers were too much grati fled with this arrangement, not to practise this self-denial while with the rest. David was look- ed upon as having a right to direct, being chief originator of the party, so no one thought of act- ing contrary to his commands; but formidable as was the designated basket for size, with such a numerous party and berries so plentiful, not a very long time was consumed in filling it to the brim, and then Delia and Amy went on heaping it up with the most beautiful clusters they could select, until there was not room for another one ; 59 then there came the closing up merry making time, in which all joined right gleefully, and it was only broken off by Willie reminding them that they were to get back home for lunch, and then there would be no more than time for their travelers to reach the village before car time. They found Mrs. McDonald waiting their re- turn with table spread ; and the mingled perfume of coffee and short cake told she had not firgot- ten her part of the engagement. Mary and Amy assisted by Delia, soon had a sufficiency of ber- ries prepared to fill the rich, smoking short cake, and as it was placed upon the table, floating in delicious cream and juice, the rustic party ac- knowledged themselves fully prepared to test its merits, by gathering around the table in the most unceremonious manner, for all having been pre- pared for them they felt themselves at liberty to dispense with all order. To David's appeal, if, after all, the country was not much to be preferred to the city--especial- ly country lunches to city lunches-Delia, like a cautious child, answered, "If all of the country was like what she had seen, and all the city what it appeared to her, surely the country must be the best beyond com- parison. But to her all seemed too fairy-like to last; she was not convinced of its reality yet."a " But don't we seem a remarkably robust race of fairies, Delia? The way we've all pitched into that stock of strawberry short cake would seem to ine sufficient to convince you of our tan- gibility. Fairy-like, you call this do you? Well if we don't have real life and real enjoyment here, I don't know where you will find it!" "That is what made me say it seems like fairy-land, for you know we think that the nicest place in the world ! you all look so kind and happy here, you would make every one else sa. I don't believe I was ever so long a time without feeling a little cross, and Jack and Billy have been se different from what they are at home- Willie will tell you so," she added, as they ill laughed at her frank way of speaking of herself and brothers. " And do you bring this up as an argument against the country, Delia ?" asked David roguishly. " Oh ! no, you know I do not"-was the girl's answer, not seeming to notice that the youth was laughing at her-"but all has been too pleasant to last-that was why I pronounced it unreal !" "But I can testify that it has lasted these nine- teen years, Delia, and if that is'nt sufficient, that youngster at your side will tell you he has grown to maii's estate-for lie plumes himself on his one0 JI r page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. -h The flash of thoughtfulness, which for a mo- ment was stealing over all the company, flitted before this boyish speech, and all laughed at the lad's thorough appreciation of their repast, quite forgetful of David's unusually serious moods. The Phelps children were accompanied by all the younger McDonalds, as well as by David and Willie ; James alone being left out of the com- pany. The good byes of Mr. and Mrs. McDonald and grandma were such as their visit had given them reason to expect, and the invitation from all three to repeat the visit in the fall, when the nuts were in their most inviting mood, asking, as the farmer said, to be gathered, filled all their young, heads with the brightest imaginable dreams of another delightful time. And then such pleasant messages as they had for their parents, not only to allow their children to come to them, but to come themselves and get a taste of the country life ; all this convinced the Phelps party that never before were there people, so good and thoughtful of children as Mr. McDonald, his wife, and that charming grandmother. Their ride to the village in the lumber wagon was all taken up in plans for the McDonalds to come to them, and have a taste of sight-seeing. The boys felt particularly how little they had to offer in the way of entertainment to their young friends, but then they would do the best they could, and at least they could talk over all that had been so nice during their stay in the coun- try. But to Archie and Ronald it looked a very different thing-a visit to the city would be a for this gentle, cheerful mother seemed much the same she had ever been, was always in her place among her children, and to their natural' inquiries after her health, the answer was what it had ever been " very well !" But Wilson was not to be decived, and as his visit came near its close, his close watching of every movement had convinced him all was not right, and he resolved to tell his kindest of mothers what were his fears, and find if they had any foundation. Not until the evening before he must return to the city did he find a favorable opportunity to speak freely with the object of his solicitude. Mr. McDonald being engaged with a neighbor, who had called to spend an hour or two, and the chil- dren wholly occupied with a game in the garden, while James and David were absorbed in listen- ing to Mary's reading of an interesting book, there seemed little danger of his being disturbed by any of them, if he sought the mother's roi- where at twilight, she was nearly always to be found. As Wilson approached the door, which was ajar, he saw the occupant of the room sit- ing by the window, her head bowed, and her thin face partially concealed by one hand, upon vxhich her forehead was resting ; by the twilight that face looked paler and thinner than he had ever seen it, and the expression upon it was that of exceeding sadness. For a moment he hesitated, feeling he hardly had a right to disturb her reflec- tions ; then his anxiety, which was not at all les- sened by her look, gave him courage, and his gen. tle tap upon the door made her start quickly and and twenty years-and in all that time our home wonderful event-but they-had little hope of its has been as you see it now!" .being realized very soon, and told their friends as " That is not what I was doubting," was De- much. The time they would have in the fall, lia's thoughtful answer, "but could anybody else gathering nuts-David taking it upon himself make the country what you do here ? I don't to picture to Delia all the pleasure citnuect- know, but I have thought you would make a home ed with it-and so their ride and their visit ended in the city a very nice place ! That it wasn't so with the most cordial good byes and cheering a - much the difference between country and city, as ticipation of a delightful time in the comniog au between you all here and everybody I'd ever seen tumn. before." The remainder of Wilson's home-stay piased The speaker was by far too serious for her lis, with much of quiet enjoyment, yet once or twice teners to wish to laugh at her frank way of coin- the boy had detecte u a look in his other's face plimenting them ; and of one thing David, with his that troubled him-it carried him back to a time devoted love for the country wis satisfied, thatthis past, when within a very narrow and scantily bright spirited city girl fully appreciated their furnished chamber, he had acted the part of home, and his answer that he had never thought housekeeper and nurse to a fading, dying mother- of this-may be it was grandma, parents, broth- it carried him even further back than that, to the ers and sisters, which made everything pass off time when that mother had striven to conceal the so splendidly. - failing of her strength from her poor child, when "And strawberry short-cake," broke in Jack, she had stifled the sharp cough, and suppressed "if Billie and I could always have strawberry the sigh which would arise, as she thought of short-cake and such coffee for lunch, I guess we'd the future. The cause of this strange associas- be fine fellows !" tion of thoughts he was unable to account for, I Ili III Ii THE MITHlERiSS BAIRN. 61 look up. Her voice was very much subdued,.yet Her hands were clasping his own, and her head there was an effort at cheerfulness as she said: resting upon his shoulder. In her miannir there "Who is it-you, my dear Willie? Come in was something so pitiful-something so a ppeaI. my son; I was not expecting any one, and your ing as though she would look to him for sup port knoek startled me." . Mother, this 'must not be-it cannot ho t As she said this, she turned her chair that her " for, and not not day cano lot; face should be in the shade, and the youth saw that hand passed over her cheek as if to brush no, no, mother, your case cannot be so hopeless- you can yet be saved to us-to all who live 3 :u away a tear drop. He went up to her side, and tuore than they love their own lives" Wils as he seated hiniself upon a chair very near her, he sadspoke with determined hopefulness, butt his eoi- "You are not displeased that I came to you, my pinion's answer made his heart sikeiiwith an- dearest of mothers ?" he bent over her as he guish. asked this, and her hand was passed caressingly " Ithought'so at first, ny dear boy, but I know over his forehead. ' better now. I have talked with our ph3icit- "Certainly I am not, my boy; and to-morrow he has given my lungs a very careful exitoina- you leave us again-these separations seem very tion, and lie said the best thing for me to do wasto trying and although I know so well they are for be very cautious about exposure, and i't possible the best, I have to yield to sadness occasionally ; have change of air. I know too well the uiiieaimin yet I would not have troubled you with a sight of such advice, forIhave seen two sistersgi1 101is (if my cheerless face, Willie, had you not taken same way ; it means live as long as I can xith me unawares.' tmy disease. As to coiisulting any other plhy sician For a moment this gave the youth a little com- I know too well what would be the conseqionen; fort, but a second thought convinced him there aInd now, Willie, let us say no more of' that, for was another cause than this working upon the, the hope you would cherish has nothing to est mind-of his companion to depress her. tpoi. I feel it here, and it is now hin weeks "Mother, can you not speak to me freely-this that I have been trying to become recneciled : is not all which is weighing upon your heart- but when I think I have gained a little stireng t you are not well, my dear mother, and you would a sight of my children and their father talb' it conceal it from me, would conceal it from all all away and again my veiy soul is wrung x ith wholove you, and would grieve over your suffer-; anguish. Oh! moy boy, how will they lear tils- ings. Tell me, mother, is not this so ?" you are much stronger, and although I how y ot The head of the listener was bowed until the love me as though I wis your mother by nature, forehead rested upon the arm of her son, and he yet you have suffered befOre, and know better felt her trembling with emotion. For some mo- how to endure-where to go for comfort ; bt ments she was silent, then once more raising they know nothing of' grief, their lives have been her face, she said- all suishine-my'heart tells me this will bri g t, heremfacecshe said- "Willie, do they know this-do my other them perfect despair! Till to, my son, how enn I children know I am changed-that this cannot ever open their eyes to this sorrow, which I fiel last longT?" The voice, after all her struggling, is approaching rapidly ? was choked with agitation. Poor Wilson! how trying did he find all this ; "No, mother, they have no Anxiety-they he would have cried aloud fur agony, h ,toid have never seen a mother failing, sinking, dying -! once felt the desolition of the onitherless-wi bl Perhaps they have never thought that such a whom it was no dismal dream, but a liiarti-rnd- thing could be!" Willie controlled himself won- ing reality; now, when the love of a eiiiiil derfully as he said this, for he would not have his mother had wound itself into his ver lheart- mother witness the anguish he felt. had made itself, is he felt, a part of his lif, it "Then, Willie, do not tell them-do not, as was to be torn away ; and would h * feel it less you love them and me, trouble them until it can that he knew tie extent of' the misery w hieb no longer be concealed. This is the hardest part, must be endured? But as his grieving, nearly to know that those who are so dear to me must heart-broken another had said he was stroiig, be so deeply grieved-that this home, which has for her sake he bade his heart le still. Ihat he for so many years echoed their glad, innocent1 might comfort her who had been to him si trt' ai laughter, must, perhaps soon, echo their cries oif mother, he resolved to forget all selfishness, that anguish, and I not able to comfort them. Oh ! he might comfort and strengthent her, atid all thant my boy, it is a bitter cup." were dear to her ! page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 THE MITHEIRLESS BAIRN. CHATER IX. "Our very hopes belied our fears, our fears our hopes belied. We thought h,.r dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died. HooD. To a disinterested looker on, Mrs. McDonald's fears might have seemed almost groundless. For many weeks, even months, she kept her place in her family, as was her wont, and then, little by little, this careful wife and mother was compelled to yield to her growing feebleness-to give up to less practiced hands t ose little duties she had so delighted in, until ere she, or those who loved her so truly were hardly conscious of it, the ac- tive housewife, was completely lost in- the con- firmed invalid. April found her able to do little more than walk with great difficulty from her bed to the easy chair in which she found relief front her weariness ; but still the family had not yet arous- ed to a consciousness of the sorrow which was overshadowing them, the summer they thought would bring with it strength for that feeble one, and the smile, with which the sufferer heard these hopeful words, reassured their anxious hearts. But in all this time Mrs. McDonald had found much real comfort and strength in unbur- thening her tried soul to the child of her adop- tion ; no pain was concealed from him, and had she not known him so well, she might have be- lieved that the steady cheerfulness he was ever able to preserve in the presence of the other members of the family, and the quiet comfort he could ever speak to her when they were alone, came from indifference; but the long years, dur- ing which they had lived in that closest relation as other and child, had given her a thorough knowledge of the strength of Wilson's love for her; yet one thing she had not learned, and there seemed little chance of her ever finding it out- the strength of that boy heart, its ability to for- get self in comforting those who were dear to it-or if not forget-to suppress the cry which his agonized soul was struggling to utter, and instead to whisper calm loving words of comf rt. Could this mother have had Wilson with her constantly, it would have served greatly to les- sen the weariness attending this gradual wearing out; but this she would not ask, for with his em- ployer he had grown to be a most t ffieient clerk, not only on account of his activity, but for the studied care he had ever shown in all that he had lain his hand to. Mr. Phelps had gained the greatest confidence in him, and often intrusted him with commissions, or talked with him on- business matters in a way he would not have done with his oldest and most reliable clerks. Knowing all this Mrs. McDonald would not have consented to Wilson's futtire prospects being sa- crificed to gratify her, for in all probability, when the boy should reach his majority, if not before, he would be entered as partner in the large mer- cantile establishment; and she looked upon his unequalled success, which she well knew was owing to his own honest and active service, with all a mother's pride-but in this pride how much was-there of sadness. When others, to whom he was dear, should be looking upon the prosperity of not only this child, butherother children,when they should rejoice to- gether over the good things life might bring, or per- chance weep together over the sorrows which might lay before them-she should be beyond all. sorrow or joy, so far as earth and her dear ones were tosbe thought of-should be'still and silent in the grave, that resting place, seeming to mortal mind, colder and more dismal the more nearly ap- proached, and which, so long as an heart-tie re- mains in life, no Christian faith can rob of its gloom, . Mr. Phelps had heard from Wilson of his moth- er's feeble health, and without being asked, had granted him a two days' visit home each month. This was indeed a great kindness, and not only the boy, but Mrs. McDonald felt it so, and neither one thought of asking more, yet the separations al- .ways cost them both a pang, for when Wilson was gone the invalid must shut her secret within her own heart, and very often her mournful thoughts would become almost unbearable. Yetoften as she tried to break the sad truth to her husband and children, her courage would always fail her, and when the words were almost spoken, again they would be recalled. Thus shut out from opening her heart to all the others, was it strange that this sinking woman had grown to lean so confid- ingly upon the boy, who despite the absence of a natural tie, had gained a child's place in the motherly heart. "Good-bye, mother, I must go now, but Mr. Phelps told me I should come to stay a long two weeks with you as soon as we should complete the invoice of the stock now preparing for be- ing shipped.-Two weeks !-how much I shall enjoy such a long visit !" Wilson took the thin white handle of his mother within his own as he said this, and his words were spoken in a very cheerful tone, for David was standing by waiting to have the good-byes over that he could take his brother to the depot; and Mary, the quiet, thoughtful girl, sat close at her mother's side closely occupied with her sew- ing ; yet her mind was never so much absorbed I' THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. in labor of any kind, that she had not an ear for what was spoken by her worshipped mother; this Wilson well knew, and had assumed a manner so foreign to his real feelings, for his last two or three home visits had shown the object of his anxiety declining much more rapidly than at any time before, and from all that he had heard of the progress of this stealthy disease, the very symptoms over which all felt so rejoiced-the ab- sence of pain-was the one which spoke the most plainly of a rapid dissolution. Convinced of all this, it was not -pos-ible for him to think of a home visit two or three weeks hence with other than a sad heart, sometimes it was with heart- rending forebodings, yet for the sake of all those dearer 'than his own life he could hide this, and seem happy as in the days when all had been sunshine. Mrs. McDonald found it less easy to assume what she so little felt, and her tone was really mournful in which she said: "Mr. Phelps is very kind, Willie-very thought- ful-but how long before this business will be done with-not too long I hope'' "Not more than three weeks, dear mother; that will be soon gone, and I shall then have more than a chance to say 'how do you do,' before the 'good bye'must come." "And three weeks are longer than two, Willie; it looks very long to me, for there may come much suffering and sorrow in that time"-the voice was choked with emotion. Mary arose quickly and came to her mother; her young face was troubled, and the hand which she laid upon her parent's forehead was cold from nervousness; but she made no attempt to speak save with her sorrowful eyes, which told her fos- ter brother the truth was dawning upon her ; as to David, he could see no reason for such gloomy apprehensions; full of health and vigor, and hope himself, life must look very fair, and his manner was very gay as he said: "Tut, tut ! mother, nervous are you! This be- ing cooped up here is too much for almost any- body, but who would have thought of your going out? Come, now, cheer up, the sun is warm to- day; in ihree or four days we shan't be afraid to take you out, and then you'll get strong, and these cheeks will grow like themselves again." He patted one of her cheeks playfully as he said this, but neither his words or manner had any power to cheer her heart or even to awaken a shown of cheerfulness. These cheeks will never be more like themselves than you see them now, Davie; you may take me out, but the change will bring no strength to 63 my wasted limbs. No,you need not look doubt- ful, my dear boy, I am not nervous-as you Say- but I know my life is almost spent, I have ft It it for a long time going from me very gradually, but very surely; but now that I have so little way to travel ere I come to the end, it seems to mue I un speeding over it so swiftly-yes, too swiftly, for even feeble as I am, there is a pleasure in staying with you all-there, there my darling, my poor Mary, hush! now I would not have spoken yet, but I have put it off as long as I dare ;-dt't cry so bitterly, my child." Mary had sunk upon her knees by her moth- er's side, and with her head bowed upon the ari of the chair, she was weeping as one nearly be- reft of hope; her sobs were not loud but deep and passionate. Her mother's words and caresses had little power to soothe her, but only brought home to that young heart-before untried in sor- rdw-the conviction that she soon should be left motherless! motherless !! As to the happy light-hearted David, there seemed something in the words of his other which bewildered him; his manner was as ore who did not comprehend, but with one hand upon his brow he stood half bending over the speaker, his eyes fixed upon that loved face as though he would read her very heart and know all its sad secrets; after a moment spent in trypnig to soothe Mary, the mother went on, "I have shut this in my heart very long, none but Willie, our faithful Willie-has fathtmed toy secret; and not even now would I have spoken had all my children been with me ; but the 1.h au few days have told me, that what you have all hoped so much from the warm sunshine andtitm mer air will but hasten the day of sorrow ; ny strength has gone much more rapidly during the last two days, than in a whole week before, and I can't be blinded to my fate Biut, David, I muiit see your brother-I must see my first-born, be foi [ die ; but before he can be sent for, your father must be told of this; oh ! my children, how can I bear to rend his heart, so peaceful, so happy as have been our lives-so tender as he has ever been, how can I lookt upoin his agony ; and yet hi must know it-very soon, even it' I seal my lips, he will learn all in the saddest, saddest way." "IHush, mother, don't let a thought of it'e who-are well and strong-who are so well able to bear, compared with you-overcome you so much. We are all helped in our grief-we are all given strength according to our affliction." Willie said this in such a low soothing voice, it could not fail to calm the mother's agitation page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] THE MITIIERLESS BAIRN., 64 somewhat. When she seemed a little more quiet he went on: "Mother, shall I talk to father ? I know he has many fears, yet he believes you will be spar- ed to us; it is hard for any of us to believe in the coming of a first grief, we think som thing will turn the destroyer from our doors, yet for all this our circles are broken. Mother, shall I wait un- til evening, and save you as much as I may from this trial?" Wilson spoke with much feeling, and much more like a full grown man than a youth of seven- teen years. The answer was almost a wail of sorrow. " Do, Willie-arid, oh! do not go until this is over. My poor David, my poor husband! but for this I could endure the trial." All three of the children seemed overcome by the scene. David, who until this moment had kept his half bent position, now sank into a chair and burying his face in his hands, the poor fel- low groaned aloud. Wilson alone had even the appearance of composure, but even he dared not venture the first word for some moments. When at length he felt his voice might be trusted, he said "Now, dear mother, for your own sake as well as ours, and mother, for father's sake you must lie down, you must get quiet, for (ne that is strong soon sinks under such agitation-and you know how very little you can endure. You would stay with us for a while, dearest mother ; I know how you long to see our brother, but you must be caretul of your strength-the little you have must be used with great caution, . or it won't hold out." While he was saying this the boy passed his hand over the brow and down the side of the mother's face in the most gentle loving way ; that touch told how much of love there was in his heart for the sufferer, although he could so entirely lose sight of his own share in the grief, it was not that his share was a small one, but that he loved this mother, so unselfishly. After a little the invalid laid her head back in her chair, and closed her eyes as if to rest, Wilson went quietly to his brother's side, and laying his hand upon his shoulder he said in a low voice, "David, my poor brother, come; we must not think of our part in this sorrow-for father's and mother's sakes let us not seem to grieve! " "Seem not to grieve!" exclaimed David with vehemence--"seem not to grieve!! and can you who have shared our home and her love say that, Willie; seem not to grieve! Oh, yes, I can see it is not with you as was she your mother; but, Wilson, can't you recall the time when it was your own mother who was going, and then can you not pity me?" The young man spoke almost bitterly, but his words seemed to have no other effect upon him to whom they were addressed, than to excite his alarm lest they should agitate their mother. "Hush, hush, my poor fellow; yes, I do pity you, and David I know how to pity one who suffers, but mother must be quiet now; let us go out and leave her to Mamy's care, and may be she will get a little sleep; we can trust her with Matny-comne, Davie, will you not come with me?" ie spoke in such a kind, persuasive tone, the yoang man arose to go with him. "Yes, go with him, my poor Davie," said Mrs. McDonild, in a voice much calmer than when she had last spoken. "If you could know all that he has been to me, you would not say again what you just now said-though you are right he has none of my weakness of heart-he is not my child by the flesh, nor is he your brother, but by the love he bears us he is ours doubly. Oh, so truly ours-he will make you stronger as he has made me; listen to him, my boy, and he will teach you submission as he has taught it to me, and if you can follow the ex- ample he sets us all-though this is very hard-you will be a living comfort to all you hold dear! Little did I dream on that Christmas day, so many years ago, when your father brought him a home- less, motherless, child to our house, that he could prove to us such a blessing. Go with him, Davie ; kiss me first and then go away; he will do you good, besides I would have some rest. Willie is right. I must be very careful of my remaining strength would I stay until James can arrive." David had no voice to reply, to him this was a, fearful shock, so sudden he scarcely knew whether he waked or slept. One kiss he press- upon those colorless lips and then followed Wilson from the room. As to Maryher adopted brother had.been right in what he had said of her, their mother was to be trusted in her care. No sooner were the two left alone, than the young girl raised her head, revealing her thin face sorrow stamped, but still wearing the expression of de- termined calmness. Although the child had sob- bed so heavily, there were no traces of tears upon her cheeks, and her eyes in their sorrowful look the mother thought larger and clearer than she had ever before seen them. " I will lay down, my child-place the pillows very high, for I find it difficult to breathe; I would get rested for I am tired, and your father will be in soon." 1 I TIlE MITIIERLESS BAIRN. 65 Mary arranged the bed with the greatest care, might thank the child of tier adoption; that it was and then supported her parent's trenibling, tot- from him her daughter had learned that the true tering steps as she walked from her chair to it. way of showing her love for those God hfad After she had got herself settled and comfortable, given her to love, was by being wholly forgetful she said: of self. "Now, Mary, bring a chair up close, I believe " Now, that is all, my darling child; I have this may be as quiet a time as we shall have to- said what I have very long wished to say to gether, and I would say something to you, such you; I have told you of your duty to all but as a mother may say to her eldest daughter. You Willie-your (wn heart will teach you that, MNa- are more like Willie than are any of the rest, and ry ; I believe i is a heart which may ho trusted, I can talk with you and grow calmer plh the time, so I shall say nothing which can influence you as I can with him. You had not expected this further than this - when you are sure it is your separation, my child, yet I know the little I have heart which speaks, after asking of God to had strength to teach you during the past year guide you in all its desires and decisions, you may will be doubly sacred to you, when you know it be guided by it without fear. I aim now ready to Was in prepparation for the time when you must rest, my child; I think I iay sleep a few mo- do without a mother's advice and counsel;" and ments, for 1 feel more quiet than 1 have for many then this mother went on in low, soft tones, tell- days. Help tie to turn so that should any ore ing her young daughter how she must do when conie in I could see then without moving ; there, she was gone-of the thought she was ever to that is very nice. 1 ow get your sewing and sit have for her poor father, who must feel this blow close beside me-I feel soi quiet, so coifonti- more bitterly than any other one-how she should ble." soothe him; then of her care for her failing grand- Mary complied with her mother's wishes inl mother, who must feel not only her own sorrow the most gentle way, and when she had settled in this breaking of the family circle, but, must herself by the bed, hard as it was, sie trni-red her share in the grief of her only child. Old as she hands aid her eyes upon her work, althliough he- was, the mother showed Mary how tender she tween every two stitches she would steal u glhme- must be of her; then little Amy must look to her at the face (of the half sleeping invalid, who la1 elder sister, as she had done to her mother-she opening and shutting her eyes in tie most c(n- must be a mother to her and the brothers-so tented way. The poor girl little knew that in faithfully did that dying parent labor to show her after life she was to look back upon this as daughter the influence a sister might ever exer- among the most precious moiuwnts she )a evm cise over her brothers. Could she ever show her- passed. self willing to sacrifice to them-ever thoughtful At last the mother seeded sleeping, aid the of them she would be sure of their love, abniiozt hands of the daughter dropped with their wer k veneration -, and in those times wN lien youth so upon her lap, while her large, mournfutl e) tf fixed much requires a mother's watchful ea r, the faith- themselves upitr that face si thin alid dtn)h-hue. ful, loving sister may prove their guatrdian angel. It might have been ant half hitiur that she sat Not one word that was spoken by the mother this, her eyes never for a moment rmnixving frorm in that hour was lost upon her child; many a time that one point, and her thoughts were of thit her heart rose with its swdlings of grief, but mother and the time when she would no longer with the firmness of a determined spirit she w(iuld be among themt. press it back, and whenever she was required to "Strange," this young girl said to herself, "that speak her voice was steady as that of one who had I have not seen this before. She is so white- no anguish to bear. almost like marble-." At this monrent tire door The mother was surprised at the steady calm- opened. ness of her child, who, she well knew, loved her The watcher started anxiously lest the sleeper with almost a passionate devotion, and could the should be disturbed, but her slumbers were un- young girl have known what comfort she gave broken It was Wilson, who had conie in to see her parent in that hour of struggling, what confi- how their invalid was after this great excitemen t, dence-so far as the future of her -dear ones was and when ie saw her so quiet upon the bed, lie to be thought of-she woald have been abundant- approached Mary's side with the softest possible ly rewarded for the conflict which during all that step, and bending down he whispered, hour was going on in her heart between her loves " Has she slept long, Mary 1" and griefs. " Yes, and so still she lays, Willie ; look at her Mrs. McDonald knew not that for this she if you em see. I darkened the window that thre 5 page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] 66 - THE MITIIER light should not come strong upon her face ; yet in a minute you will be accustomed to it so you can see clearly. She is so white, Willie; I must arouse her; I can't endure to look upon that face so much as though it would never move again." While she was speaking her companion ap- proached nearer the sleeper; there was some- thing in the very attitude which alarmed him; his hand was laid upon one of those colorless as marble, and as quickly withdrawn--it was cold and lifeless as clay. Mary saw the movement and one look into Wilson's face confirmed her fears-.. she knew that she-that they were motherless. But where death had stolen in so quietly, was it not meet that the mourning should be of a quiet nature? In that moment this young girl feIt her heart crushed, yet she uttered no moan, she breathed no complaint; and how well that other mourner remembered the time when niore than nine years .LESS BAIRN. was to her only child-how he looked up to her as a second self; and it was not strange that her old heart's fibres had wound themselves about this younger one so closely. That now when they were torn away she almost longed for death to free her from a life whieh seemed all so deso- late. Yet there might be something for her to do-this stricken family might now require the aid of these old hands which had so long appear- ed so useless, and she prayed for patience to en- dure, if yet there was the smallest thing remain- ing for her to accomplish in life. To farmer McDonald the shock was overpow- ering. He had looked upon the frail, delicate wife ns a part of himself, and although for months she had been so very feeble, the thought had nev- er for a moment been entertained that he was to yield her up to the destroy ing angel; and had such a thought sought a place in his mind, he would have cast it out as a thing impossible for ago, he had stood by the bedside of that other nimato lyvewethons no a ieor so meny sweet beautiful mother, who had sickened and years been the light of his heart and home. died, with none to care or mourn for her, save her The truth was too fearful a one to be received one little boy. He had watched alone by her suf- at first, but when his tender words met with no fenreg couch-had answered her every complaint response, when his caresees were lavished upon with words and hisses of affeetioi, and when the that inanimate form, and the face retained that lst breath of life had beer Spent his hand had fixed stony smile, when he called her by the closed the glazing eyes. That had been a very names she best loved from his lips and yet her sad time,' but since that he had known niuch of slumber remained undisturbed, then he began to real happiness-had called another kind and understand the meaning of their words-to know g- tie woman mother, and learned to think of 'that she was gone-was dead, and he still lived- that other as a another in Ieaven. But now this lived to look upon her, the wife of his bosom- other had gone away, and once more his heart the love of his youth, senseless-hopelessly dead led over his orphanage ; and im that household and his almost hopeless grief broke forth in such there was no one that did not feel that the light Wails of anguish as made his children forgetful of . . -.a.a. . ," andi jO of this. world had passed away with the their own share in this common calamity. They passing out of that life. But every one hushed dared not attempt consolation; for what was their lanentation, when that sorrowing widowed there of comfort to any of them? for when all had heart broke forth with its desolate moans; all been said, the oae awful truth would return upon ftIt their grief was not to be compared with that them, motherless ! motherless !u! and all that af- of the strong man, who by this sudden blow had ternoon and evening they inmoved about from room been stricken to the very earth. And the aged to room with hushed steps, and each heart pris- grandmother, to vhem this woman had been a oied its grief, uttering no complticet, save the beloved child-the shock of her death seemed to bursting forth of an occasional sob too strong to tiave added a sco-ere of ears to her already large be kept down. Then one and another would steal number; her step was no6w unsteady, and into that solemea chamber only to come out with when she would have spoken comfort to her son faces more strongly marked by anguish ; and the and his iotherless children-her words were first day of their first sorrow was past, and when broken and almost inaudible. Poor old woman! the hour for sleep came all were glad to seek Her very look told how great was the misfortune forgetfulness im slumber. which had fallen upon this house, once so full of But in that house there was one spirit that I joy aed life and love. found no rest. The strong man walked to and For more than twenty.three years she had call- fro through that silent chamber struggling with e i this woman daughter-she had seen her in her his great woe ; struggling helpless and hopeless- homele--among her family the most active and loving ly, for he sought no aid in his extremity, Since mother ; she had seen how great a treasure she his youth, in all life's cares and joys, he had call- If I TIIE MITIIER ed uron God for strength and wisdom to aid him; but now, when he most needed Divine support, he sank down upon his own weakness, forgetting that the hand which had been outstretched to afflict could also pour the soothing balm into the bleeding heart. There was one other pair of eyes in that house- hold unvisited by sleep-that aged mother's, dimmed by nearly four score years ; yet they were not too old to watch when a child-her only one was wrestling in such sore agony ; but she knew well his was not a grief to be reached by hurin comfort, and christian-like she used her only available means, prayer; but tramp, tramp, sound- ed the mourner's step save when for a momiient he would pause by the bed of death to gaze upon all that remwaied to him of what he liad so fondly worshipped ; and day brought with it no change. The funeral was like many another one. The dead was laid away to rest until that great di) of awxxakeninig, and many a curious looker on pro- nounced the children almost heartless that they could witness the burial of such a mother wit i such hushed grievings. Little did they dream, that for the time their grief for the dead was al- most forgotten, or at least for the moment cast aside in their anxiety for~ the liig ; so it was with the elder ones, and the younger, as is so natural, followed the example set therem-simoth- ering their sobs which swelled their childish hearts. Not until the second day after the funeral did Wilson feel it possible to tear himself from his, home to return to the cty. A messenger had been sent to Mr. Phelps, the afternoon following Mrs. McDonald's death, to tell hun of the cause of the youth's detention, and the answer which die merchant had returned was most expressive of sympathy ; yet ha could expect, in such a busy time, a business man-no matter how kind hearted-would think it unreasonable that too much time should be consumned in abandon- ed grieving; and Wilson's better judgment told him that, instead of doing them good, this silent sympathy was creating a morbid melancholy within all their minds, and this diversion might do them much service ; for not only Mary and David, but the younger children, cried out against his leaving them at such a time, and even Mr. McDonald and his mother raised a faint remonstrance, when they heard of his de- termination to go back to his employer. The farmer seemed surprised that any one should tbink of business ; ho had felt this was a death which should drape the whole world in mourn- LESS BAIRN. 67 ing,- and this proposition of his adopted son to turn his ined to his labors again seemed the un- happy man's first recollection that his was not an universal source of affliction-that still there was buying and selling to be done-that inn looked upon this death, which had so crushed his heart, as lee lead1 looked upon the thousandesee and thousands that had gone before it ; yet for himself and his family all ambition was dead- buried in that grave which had received thee heolpe and life of his crushed spirit, and he only wished he might be freed from life wx which had become a burden. Ye were ordained to, oiot to if-y, eTo sefer, wx h h ich is nobler thau to lare, A holy lurthliin is ii life yo bienai; Look on it, lin it, he-a it a letiriily, Stand up and walk beneath it Sel-aelfastly, Fail notf lr sorrow, fller not for sie, Buit Onwaerdl, iiliiviii i, till thee goial ',I wiie. ''Yo ehave the proof, Mr. Phelps ; I dnl't iht you to be gided by i jeelhgment not quite ioo meih inclined tee be inifloeieced by a foolish fancy e your own ; ye ui hive the proof in his own h1 .- writing, and if that is not eeufi .ieit 3u en yc-iI)- peal to 3our own sein, vheo seees rather iunfo tee- ite in les chleoice oif e ifrlil -ie-xer. i, ile ou iii scarcely hi 1h1111ulion.' Mr. Phelps' face fleshed paitfully. "Mir. 1F:rei ham, it is not necessary that you should re-al ' my mind lmy child's share im this iematter; a hitle feels keenly enough when shoie falls upon li, eetlhprimg, without haxinig it rudeely hetInrut ito bi face. Beet I ciii be .J'ict, sir, and steal of it being mey sole, wvhoe li-is illbelenenfeotrbundee ii til choice of his f('riend, it is iiiy chrk, woii( is m-a unfeortun ate in having come neder the inef1leene (I my wretchedl, ulisipaitedh hbey! "Oil! well, veei eknow better thani T, etofeitr- waiis the soenrig ienliith'reent iia-er '*f Mr. 1sn lamn-'a mrane1 is exp-ct-ed to know soemethmieeg eSl those who Have leon born iiins lee1il)e ; rut 3 (i at least, adit the guilt of tlis young villan "Mr. Faeirnhia, I xw ull rather 3ou did not speak in this wary of onle I hae h Ilerfi very strongly rittebeht-l to, and for whom I mut feel deeply, even if forced to lidrneit the proof, most convincing ; but, while my eyes tell 1ine this letter was written by Wilson, my btter initre declares it impossible." '' And so you still think of standing leach in the matter, Mr. Phelps ; I am sorry feor it-hie l but a boy, and a goode lecture with ra prompt de- missal might answer as well as mrore severe mn- sures, and the exposure which moust ceemre x iii a legal investigation; feer he must leanve the i-c I f f page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 6 8 THE MITHERLI i tablishment, or in one way or another he must b go !" r The speaker's manner was excited, and his u companion thought his determination would have u been very commendable it shown in some other li cause. h " You surprise me, Mr.Farnham, in taking such a decided stand in this case; matters of thiskind t you have ever before left to me entirely, and now you seem more than half inclined not to give me j even a voice in deciding as to the guilt or inno- j cence of this boy, who, let him be what he mayc now, I shall ever believe care to me with an s honest heart." "It may be to you surprising, Mr. Phelps, that t I ever presume 'to have a voice in my own af- fairs"-the manner was cold and expressive of, displeasure-"but although I have interfered so E little since we were associated, I don't consider that this non-interference has annulled my rightI to Epeak, when I see a want of sober judgment in the conducting of the affairs; you must excuse rue for saying this, but you are guilty of a womanly weakness, so far as this youth is concerned. I am the last one to be over-severe, but our inter- ests are endangered by allowing him to remain in his place, and justice demands that such a thing should not be passed over without attention; if we forego a public investigation, we certainly should not a private. In consideration of his ex- treme youth, an i his family-w.hich you say are very respectable-I am inclined to allow justice to yield much to mercy; but he must know this is all discovered! For a few moments Mr. Phelps remained silent and his face was very sober; then he said, "You may be in the right, Farnbarn; you are an older man than I, and have seen more of the world; 1 suppose I ought to yield to you with a better grace, but it is very hard for me to believe one who has ever seemed so nearly perfect, so very false; and just at this time, too-I could have a little more courage if the boy had no trouble upon his mind; but it is not a light matter to bring up an affair of this kind when his heart is well nigh crushed, for, let you say or think what you may, I know he was most devoted to his mother, and there is a chance of its not being true; don't you think it cruel to accuse at such a time on uncertainties?" There was something like a smile upon the face of Mr. Farnham, as he answered, "The boy must be a very good actor; I don't doubt but that he is; to some it is more natural and much easier to seem than to be ! One who could act the honest so as to so thoroughly deceive a man of r ESS BAIRN. usiness, all the time practising the accomplished ogue, could, I presume, make himself appear a most devoted son. I trust no one, sir, no one, until I have tried them in every way. Let us be- ieve every man, woman and child evil until we have proved them good!" There was much of bitterness in the words and one of the speaker. " I don't like that doctrine, Farnham ; I would udge mankind more by myself. No, no, let us- udge the hearts of our fellows by the hearts we carry within our own bosoms-oven that may be evere enough." " May be you think I do, Phelps; may be you think I judge in this way, that I am so severe." and the speaker gave a bitter laugh. Before his companion had time to answer, a slight confusion outside the counting room made them both look through the widow, and the hind-hearted Mr. Phelps saw with regret the ob- ject of their slight disagreement receiving the greetings of the other clerks in the store ; but without lingering among them for a moment he was making his way towards the counting room, where for the last few months he had been nearly the whole time occupied in a way which told he possessed the entire confidence of Mr. Phelps at least. His manner was anything but expressive of . consciousness of having betrayed a trust con- fided in him, as he entered the little room where the two gentlemen were sitting. Mr. Phelps arose to receive him, and in spite of all that had passed he felt his heart yearn- ing towards the youth, who now. stood accused of robbing him,-and what seemed so very strange, it had not been to benefit himself, but to satisfy the extravagance and dissipation of his employer's son, one, who by his disobedience and waywardness had forfeited the affection of even his parents. As to Wilson, he saw nothing pe- c liar in Mr. Phelps' manner, and when he had for a moment hesitated to enter, on discovering the room occupied by more than one, the voice was only a little subdued in which he had been bidden to "comein." " I have staid longer than was right, perhaps, Mr. Phelps," he said ; "but I felt you would over- look it at this time.". The answer was to the effect that even now he did not expect him back-he might have ad- ded he could wish he had not come-and as he spoke in a half hesitating way, he stole a glance at Mr. Farnham, who was still seated by the ta-. ble. Wilson naturally followed the direction of the glance, and he started very perceptibly ; at first the face had been turned away from him 1s (s TIE MITIERLESS BAIRN. 69 but now he had a full view of it, and not a second though it pains me much that I am compelled to look was necessary to tell him 'Where and when speak; I have done my best to escape from it, for he had before seen those features, so strongly I have grown very partial to you, but I see no marked by passion. Nine years had not erased other way than to tell you frankly of the charge the impression that face had made upon him on which is brought against you, and to show you that Christmas morning, and now that it should the evidence that has been produced to prove come up again, and just at this time when he was you anything but what I have ever believed you, feeling that old desolation, in an instant it struck an honest, conscientious young man. Mr. Farn- hiur as a strange coincident, and one that left no ham came to the city four days ago, and imme- pleasant impression. He remembered, too, the diately we entered into a balancing of the books, discomfort he had felt when nearly a year before which you know have for sometiie been w nailing he had for the first time learned that Mr. Farn- his coming; we found there was something wrong ham was a partner in the store, and in spite of -it was little to be sure, not over five hundred his sadly pre-occupied mind, the thought did steal dollars, but it was enough to be looked after, I in, had he come there for any harm to him? Mr. suppose; at any rate Mr. Farnham was determir- Phelps interrupted his reflections- ., ed to find out where it had gone to, and comn- "Go to the house, Wilson, I shall soop be up menced laying snares for the detection of tie to tea, and in the meantime Mrs. Phelps and the robber, for he was positive it had been taken by children will have much to say to you." soine one of lire clerks. But all his mai(euver- He spoke kindly, yet there was an unus- ing seemed in a poor way of bringing any good, ual restraint in his manner which did not escape when this morning a letter came in addressed the youth ; he thought it might be caused by a to you, and although I was much opposed to bi, remembrance of what lie must have suffered doing it, he insisteJ on examining the contents, since they last met; but there came another as he said the object justified the end. I had no thought too-"had this partner anything to do fear for you, Wilson, but so much confidence in with it ?" With a word or two of thanks he your honesty I felt this move entirely uncirlld left the counting-room and the store; by Mrs. for; you can judge of the shock I received wn Phelps and the children he was received with [ was compelled to read this letter from my owni that thoughtful attention, so full of frankness, son addressed to you. that he felt with satisfaction that this evil ian "My DEAR McDoNALD: I received yours had done him no harm here-they at least were containing the sum required safely. You are a the same as when he went away. Mrs. Phelps trump, old fellow, and know how to nmaage my wished t- hear all about the death of his mother governor splendidly. I enclose yours with this which had come so suddenly, and both she and since you wish it, though it would have been safi' her daughter wept when they heard how nobly with me. I'll try and keep clear of scrapes, and Mary had struggled to endure. so save your conscience. At present you will There was but little spoken during tea; the have to take thanks as a return for this lift- boys were very quiet, for their mother had told sometime I may do more-who knows ? This is them Willie did not feel like hearing them talk, all I have time to say-yours truly, or answering their questions. Delia was too WrITrsER Purenm" thoughtful to speak to any one, while Mrs. "And there, Wilson, is your letter, I won't rend Phelps, with a wife's quick perception, saw sonie- it to you-it is not necessary, but )ou can ba"e thing unusual was amiss with her husband to it again cause him to be so silent, and this kept her from The speaker extended the letter towards lie entering into any conversation. youth who sat as one in a dream ; ahnost uncoln- "XSilson, -ill you go into the library with me sciously he took the folded sheet and slowly open- I have a matter I would talk over with you; I ed it, but no sooner bad his eyes fallen upon the would defer it, but perhaps it will bejust as well written page thau he started with an exclilion now." This Mr. Phelps said as he arose from of surprise. But a iniornent was required to rild the table. Wilson stood up to accompany him the whole, and if his employer had before thought without a word, and without showing the least the affair a mystery, the manner of the youtIh did hesitation. ..not serve to clear it up in his iniid. The young After a few words at an attempted introduc- face was full (if doubt anid hen ildermienit, but tion, which -brought him .no nearer to the watch foir it closely as he~ could, Mr. Phnelps w as point, the merchant said; able to discover rio sign of fear or guilt. "I have something to say to you, Wilson, "Well, Wilson, what can yin say fur your. page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. self?" The voice was anything but what the' speaker designed it should be-cold and stern. "What-can I say, Mr. Phelps? you know my hand-writing as well as I do myself, and I must see how nearly that resembles it ; had I not readI what is written, I could have taken my oath that I wrote it-though God is my witness, my eyes never before rested upon one word traced there." The tone in which this was spoken was clear, and to Mr. Phelps' heart his words seemed con- vincing, yet, as Wilson had said himself, he would take his oath the writing was no other than his, and so he told the poor boy. This was more than Wilson had looked for-it had seemed to him as impossible that his employer could believe him guilty of this, as that he should believe it himself. For a few moments he struggled with his shame 'r,d anguish, and then bowing his face in his hands he wept silently over this wrong, and in his heart he prayed for death, that this sorrow and disgrace might be lost in forgetfulness. CHAPTER XI. "To fly from, need not be to hate mankind."-tBYRoN. "'Labor is worsip!' The robin is singing; 'Labor is worship ! The wild bee is ringing; Listen! That eliegnent whisper npspriogiog, Speaks to thy soui from out nature's great heart" [OGonoD. On one of those vast fields of the West which nature has so kindly prepared for the industrious husbandman, embowered within a clump of smell trees and shrubbery, nestled a small hut which bore evident marks of being not only a human habitation, but of its occupant or occupants, who- ever he or they might be, having a thorough ac- quaintance with refined as well as civilized life. Not but that it was rough enough, being built p irtly of stone, partly ofclay, while here and there wais to be seen an unhewn beama of wood, serv- ing apparently as a sort of frame work, yet to one acquainted with Western life, as well asWestern architecture, this structure declared the hands which had fashioned it possessed of no small share of industry and cleverness, for save three or four windows, composed of a single pane of glass each, in the external of the little dwelling there were no evidences of foreign manufacture. The planks from which the doors had been man- ufactured had never known the benefit of plane or even saw; although done with extreme nicety, it wis clear that the degree of smoothness which they possessed had been procured by the use of no other utensil than the common axe, while the enineys, three in number, which were built two feet, at least, abteve the roof, were fashioned of rieugh fragments of stone and clay. For all this primitiveness, there was something in the form and the very air of the dwelling and its surroundings, which declared that no common mind or taste had been occupied in planning and arranging every thing. Even in the choice of the spot, there was expressed.a love of the beautiful, which would have made one wish to see the pro- prietor of the little domicile, as well as the hun- dreds, one- might almost say thousands of acres of magnificent land which surrounded it. With the refinement manifest in all which had been done here, what could have driven'the possessor of all this to seek such hermitage, scores of miles away from any human habitation, and hundreds of miles distant front civilization? Near enough to the cottage, that the murmuring of its clear waters sounded as a soothing music, flowed a beautiful river, bordered by the graceful willow, interwoven with here and there a flowering shrub which had floated down upon the stream, and, lodging among the overhanging willows, had taken root, and in their new hom flourished as if they had known no other. But these were not the only flowers which bar- thened tie air with their rich perfume. Trailing rose bushes clambered up the rough walls of the cottage until they crept along the very eaves; the.wild jassamine, too, was there, mingling its sweet breath with its floral compare ion, and doing more than could any art to beautify the rough dwelling, while all was inclosed by a hedge form- ed of the wild gooseberry and raspberry bushes. which in their season furnished an abundance of delicious fruit as a reward to whoever kept and triramed them with such care. A larger bed of wild strawberries, greatly improved, as must be nearly everything by contact with civilization and- cultivation, were even now ripening in the warm June sun, telling of princely feasts to be enjoyed there. But a few rods distant the young corn was waving to the soft warm breeze, while peas, beans, potatoes, and many other kinds of vegeta- bles were thriving in that manner which told of no common care. Small patches of grain, too, testified of the richness of the soil, but in their laying out they seemed more the work of a gardener than of afarmer, firtheir size was so di- minutive they seemed to promise very little to- wards the support of whoever had thus nicely cared for them. In an opposite direction from the little em- bowery were the only animate objects to be seen around the dwelling-a half dozen sleek, happy, looking goats were feeding, quite content appa- rently with the fresh, tender grass which was growing in such abundance around them, ad, I ----- - - I e U y ie s arf e~I~7 o1 i 'U , iiV iVy ti 11 : , whatever it was which was troubling himo- exclaati of recognition or surprise. whatever was weighing upon his mind, to have The stranger raised himself from his stoopineg it settled, let it turn which ever way it might. posture, a moment he regarded with deep emi'- Iutead of pushing his way thr'iugh the hedge, tion that bowed forra but just now 5) steeical that he might enter the hous -by the front door, in its miaihooed, but in n instant rendered alminoft the traveler followed a rather e Il-worn foot- powerless by the recolletions which tiat famihIar path which he'd te the right, and ceonncted him vo'ice had forced upon the miind and heart !-- to a small gate w hieh tduiitted 'him to the en- Now there was no doubt-lie who lied fer five closure ; and now of one thing he as rune, long yers been mierred elmcst is hopehsly ai ahicever the occupant of the cottage might be, hid le been dead, was atlast fend, eidl )a il ie was at hoeme, fir the door upon this side of McDonald, the stalwart young farmer, felt he the house was standing open to ndmiit the rays of coild (ef his minhoed no justice by eimeg le the declining sun, and sittimeg near it, but with his miture this cne little hecr. lace turned awayr, wadin rain soiewhit slenderly "Willis, mly brother Willie!" cried in Al formed, but in Other 'respects presenting to the imnpacsaioned voice is he threw his ccrm11s abioit casual eye a figure not unlike tamiy a Western his companion, "have you no welcme for tie, hunter. after this loi searehinig for- you -my brother- The sound of the approachig footsteps aroused cl, my brother Willie him from what seemed a re cry, and starting up, ' Why sheou'd you come I here vid I Why he turned his face quickly towards the door. ''hie should yeeu ccki mie loet in+y itlitid-, to tn ;Ii- sight of the stranger give himt tie snip rise', but le el ii noy mic eust ice-il edrg lgs I -l gosi u ec cciii el half familiar nod was thecoily welcou he t I hl lihped wiere forever luled t (' ne (ii, first gave. Pausing upon the threshieid, the tray- DaviD, why not le: mceill in peael ini tee, ery ee gazed feet a moment intently inteo the ftee, emnt of the soelitiude to w hieh I wa-s bi ecni lg more than half hidden by masses of dark hair reconcile ii? Why a .keii the reme nibrancee and a heavy beard. The scrutiny had no other' ll I have suiTered--of aill those I love hat e f influence upon the object of it than to hold him fred through mie!-ofi' 1 the wrongs I live ec- in silence, for he seemed scarcely to observe the dured-my brother, of tile ehiamlle which mnt- intruder. The face of the latter wore an expres- ever rest upon me !" Tie head of timt) spe-ke'r iiYr _._ r -- TIIE MITIIER contrary to their nature, willing to allow the tempting grain and vegetables full in sight to re- main in their luscious tenderness all untiuclied- - but a few moments' watching would show all this forbearaaco not of their own free will, but an obedient submission to tolerably long tether- ing cords, which kept them within a given range, each one being made fast within a low closed shed, which served the animals as a comfortable shelter from the sun and rain. - To take in at a hasty glance all these objects something in the same order they have bee-i des- cribed, a traveler paused upon the bank of the river, just opposite the strangely constructed dwelling. The ma was young and well clad,. but as he leaned upon his heavy walking stick, there was about him an air of weariness which spoke of a long journey, and his person as'well as his clothing told of some days' absence freun the civilized world, and in t he expression of his sunburnt face there was a half mournful eager- ness not usually seen in an aimless wanderer-a desire to go a little further-to take another step, even a frantic longing for it, but with that long- ing a fear to move lest some hope, too long cher- ished, should be in a moment crushed. Sud- dl h to tl d.). f rward eviudent -ileined LESS BAIRN. 71 sion of disappointment, ani Iihis eyes drioppd from the point upon which they haud seemed for that little moment chained ; but the object they met upon the floor, just in front of the seat whi h this hermit had occupied on his eitraioe, needed no second glance to convince hint hi 'j neily wis at last ended. There, stretched in the attitude of the mot perfect repose, lay a large shaggy dog, his m e resting upon his outstretched paws , and ho ei- dentv ly wrapped in the heaviest sleep. Quickly lie stepped forward aind bending down, lie ca- ressed the fine head of the animal. "Neptune, dear old Neptune,' IeI bail i a coax- beg toine. But the animal made no movement, and then for the first time the visitor discovered, that this was but a stuffed fiorni and no living dog - Scarcely an instant had been taken up in this little scene, yetit had been long enough to work a truly wonderful change in the a peliilalico aniid manner of the master of the lieriiitage-at the first soud of that voice, calling upon the dug biy that familiar name, lie had sunk imito the near-st seat, and hid his ftce u within his hands, but there was uttered no groan, no word of complaint, no I page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. still remained bowed, but the voice expressed a Wilson Harley,as entirely innocent of the crime vehemence almost wild, of which he had been accused and proved guilty, "Look up, Wilson Harley '" the young farmer as he, the employer, with all the convincing evi- spoke with an excitement which seemed almost dence to the contrary, had ever persisted in be- suffocating-" that was the name which received living him! For three long years-and how long the stain-that is the name by which you are must they have been to him !-this accused, but now known-the one by which you are declared innocent youth, has been banished from home to the whole world innocent, Willie, innocent of and friends -a -selfdsnposed banishment. But all which you have been accused-of all Ior what might have been expected from one pos- which you have so cruelly suffered! William sessed of such/rare reflnement and sensibility, as Harley, look up and tell me you rejoice with me, we are constrained to believe from all we have that you rejoice to return to those who, in the heard, belonged to him ? Rescued from the darkest time, have never for one moment doubt- gloomy cell of a prison by the interposition of ed you!" friends who, notwithstanding their unshaken be- The head was raised, but it seemed a mechan- lief in his innocence, could only plead for him ical obedience, for the face was distressed and be- in consideration of ,his youth, for he was but wildered in its expression. eighteen years of age-heleft his home for, per- "Did you not hear me, Willie," cried David, haps, a foreign land! who had looked to see his glad tidings so differ- "Beggina to be allowed to go where new scenes ently received, and at sight of that face had be- might enable him to forget the disgrace which come much alarmed lest this long waiting had had come upon him, his friends consented sorrow- been too much for the mind ever so keenly alive ingly, trusting to time to soften his more than to -the opinion of the world; "did yoa not un- grief-but these years have passed, and no tidings derstand ? Here it is-read the last paragrapl- have been received from the wanderer. Whether that will tell you every thing in a few words- living or dead, we know not; but with all our that is what has been said to the whole world !" hearts we can say we hope he inay still be alive' The young man drew from his pocket a well- to rejoice over the clearing away of this sad mys- worn paper, and unfolding it in a hurried manner, tery-to return to his home where he has never he held it directly before his companion's face been doubted-to his friends who knew him too designating with his finger the paragraph in well to believe aught evil of him-to the world question. Wilson Harley took the paper as re- which must ever stand in need of minds so truly quired, and commenced reading. At first he but noble and upright, that in the face of all proof to spoke the words, without comprehending the the contrary, those the best acquainted, refused idea they would express, but as he proceeded a to believe guilty of the smallest deviation from few lines the truth stole upon him. What he had honesty. been requested to read 'was but the closing clause "Only an all-wise Providence can understand of a full statement of the wrongs an innocent, why this should be-that the guilty should so noble hearted youth had suffered through the flourish and the guiltless be so sorely tried ; but evil workings of those who had been foremost knowing that an eye not limited in vision watch- in condemning him, in proving him guilty of a es over the destinies of all earth's children, giving black crime. them grace according to their trials, and trials "And so the woild sees," this was the read- according to the work which may lay before ing of the paragraph, " how Wilson Harley, the them, for the accomplishmentof which they must adopted son of David McDonald, Esq., has been the innocent victim of two evil-minded men-. one the confidential clerk in the establishment where .he, and the youth he so villanously wronged, were serving-the other, the son of one of the principal partners in the establishment. It is by the prompt acting of this last gentleman that all this has been brought to light. - Forget- ful of the father-forgetful of everything but justice, from the moment that the first ray of light was thrown upon this matter, he allow- ed no time to be lost, and no stone to remain un- turned until the world saw this deeply wronged be prepared ; let us hope and pray that the future of this young man may be such as to atone for what has passed, by making him forget all that there has been of sorrow mingled with the joy.' Wilson Harley, the subject of these explana- tions and good wishes, read this to the close. Every word was spoken with the distinctness of one who did not quite catch the idea, or imagined there might be somewhere a hidden meaning which might escape him. When he reached the end he paused a moment, then began again read- ing all over very closely and carefully. "Are you .sure of this, David ?" he asked THE MITIERLESS BAIRN. 73 S72 1. - i r. i .r-- when he had completed the second reading. His an exertion ; he saw, when he visited home, the voice was husky, and his face drawn and hag- second winter you were in his father's employ, gard in its appearance. "No, no; I see it is but Carson't, jealousy, and he determined t turn it the work of an evil hand. You have been de- to his own account! you begin to see now, Wil- ceived, my dear brother; whoever did that other, lie, how all this has been done. whoever brought this great shame upon me, is " Poor Carson found he had a very exacting not satisfied-he would see how I bear it-he master, for young Phelps extorted from him a half would have me return that he may witness my of his salary the first year after you left, lby misery, may enjoy the wreck he has made. Three threatening to expose him to his epilo)yers ifl he years! ha! ha! he has not comuted as carefully refused it-and then, w hen he rose from elerh t( as I have. No, no, David, I have nothing more junior partner-which he did in one yes r-1hi to do with the world, and none of this art can found this spendthrift a perfect leech, drawing tempt me to return to it, to subject myself to from him almost his entire share of profits, and such glances as I bore on those two dreadful all the wre tched fellow could do was to submit! days! Three years ! ah ! I would you had not IHe had chosen his task-mnaster, and he found his come, my brother; this solitude ill be more slavery was most grievous; but there was no es- dreadful, and then to think of all at home! Da- cape from it, for, as Phelps said, he had nothing vid, David, this is no light thing! The hope this to fear in the exposure, for it was impossilb for one little moment gave, has undone all that I for him to stand in a more unfavorable light with had in five years accomplished, Yes, five years, his father fhain he did already, and Carson knew. David, not three as they talk of here; a year is if he refused to comply with the conditions, the not so light a thing to one in solitude that, in, fellow would carry out his threats. So Ior tvN counting five by days-by hours-I could almost years longer he submitted with as good a grace say by minutes-two could be lost." as he could, hoping, undoubtedly, that deliver- "Wilson, listen to me !" cried Pavid, for the 1 dance would coeic some time-and it did ; thumigh look and manner of his companion began to alari not the kind lie had looked for, and p(lorly was he him very greatly-"I have come to you, my poor prepared to receive it. Willie, with no uncertainty. Much as we longed "Three years after you left us, Willie, three to see you-much as we pined for your society I ears to the very day-the ulpnppy youig mnTw once more-much as we desired to see our peeor was thrown freem his horse,while taking a imori- Mamy's head raised from its bowed sorrow-we ing's ride. le never spoke or even moved efter regarded your wish as too sacred a thing to have he struck the ground. That very day a letter sought you out, until our tidings would throw came for hin from young Phelps. lr. Phdyjs, from your'life-from all our lives this dreadful the father, reeognised the hand-writing inl the cloud! But-do you hear me, Willie ?" he asked superseription, and as parent (ef the writer tld as his companion bowed his head in a despairing partner of him to whom it was addressed. he way. felt himself justified in opening it. You will tn- "Yes, yes, I hear !"was the mournful answer. derstand, Willie, how the cont-nts shook the old " Coeie, come my boy, don't refuse to receive man. It was a pereniptory deniand fer nore good tidings-for the sake of those to whom you money with dark threats if lie vi as refused. are as a brother-for the sake of one to whom " Mr. Phelps in an instant cleared his unfort u you are even dearer than that, hear what 1 have1 nate partner of having ny part in anything di- traveled hundreds of miles to tell you ! What honorable-he remenibered the letter wxheielh hade! you have read there is all true-by and bye you meonce come from the samce snouree, for youi anid he shall read the whole statement, but now you. are believed his wretched son, with the tidl of son not calm enough--- can tell yfiu bettor, my poor acconiplice as reckless and evil-minded ms him- Willie-it was Carson, the confidential clerk who self, was seeking another victim. did it-it was he who wrote that letter to Wal-- "le wrete such a letter to the yuung villain as I ter Phelps ! It was a plan between them, not I don't think umeny of us would like to receive, only to ruin you, but with young Phelps, to make declaring his full belief in his partner's igno- his companion in guilt his slave ! Carson envied rarcee of the letter, or anything connected with you, for he saw how you were rising in favor, it ; but, when he confided the whole matter to is an'd he feared you would become his rival-Wal- wife-as I think lie is rather alpt toe (le aneythingL ter Phelps hated you, as he hated every thing connected with the wrong-doeingsoef their soen-aned good-yet just your ruin would omet have been a perhaps no father and liuisbaer is peculiar in th- sufficient inducement to' his making soe mu-ch of Mrs. Phelps expressed amie dots as te Carson, page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. and when her husband insisted upon his having been a most reliable man, accusing her of a lack of womanly feeling, in thus suspecting him of anything wrong, now that be was beyond defend- ing himself, she told him she had never shared with him the confidence he had felt in his part- ner; she made no pretensions of believing their son less guilty than his father was inclined to thiak him, but, until they had made an examina- tion of Carson's papers, she would not be con- vinced the boy was alone in guilt. Her woman's perception, served her better in this case than did her husband's sounder judgment, as he was himself compelled to acknowledge when the cor- respondence between the two villains--the whole, for three years, was brought to light. "Then it was that we learned all about the part that these two had acted towards you, Wil- lie! Carson, in his caution, had requested the re- turn of his letters, and all, save two or three, were found in his possession; these two or three Phelps had kept to witness against the fellow, in case he proved unmanageable. But they were scarcely needed, for the contents of threatening letters, afterwards written, gave us a pretty good idea of all they contained. Their whole plan for la3 ing you under suspicion was divulged, and their rejoicing over the success of their scheme was such as you might expect. " Mr. Phelps did not wait an unnecessary hour' after this discovery was made before he put a clear statement of the whole affair into the hands of the editor of that paper, and he made no ef- fort to spare his son, or conceal his part in the criminal matter. Neither did he spare his money, Willie, but sent notices and advertisements to papers in all parts of our country, paying liber- ally, and offering extravagant reward for the smallest information of you ; but a year passed, and no tidings cane. Then all were agreed that our only hope of finding you was for me to start out, and never give up the search until I had dis- covered your whereabouts. It has been a long journey, Willie, a very long journey. I have traveled over thousands of miles, North and South, East and West; many a time, as in this ease, hearing of some strange man dwelling in solitude, I have turned in my course and gone hundreds of miles, but to meet with disappoint- ment. This has happened again and again, until I had grown to expect it-or if not to expect it- for my hope of finding you was strong as ever- I was prepared to find at the end of my jaunt a surly, perhaps a grizzly bearded, half civilized being, instead of such an one as had been do- scribed to me, and given us small grounds for hop- ing to find you. "It was with this feeling I followed the path indicated by a rough hunter, more than five hun- dred miles away from here, Wilson. It has been a great tramp, and at last I have my reward-at last my brother is found, and I can rest." Desponding as had been Wilson Harley when his companion commenced speaking -wholly bereft of hope as he had seemed, he very soon be- came a most attentive listener, and through the whole narration, he made no attempt at an in- terruption, by question or exclamation. But the change which gradually came over his face showed that however hapless he might have been the account was too clear and convincing for even his despair to withstand, and when David crame to the closing up of the story, illustrating the last exclamation by seating himself in the cu- riously constructed, but very comfortable arm chair which his companion had abandoned on his approach to the door, Wilson himself arose, walked hastily across the room two or three times, then stepped out into the freshening air, brushing the heavy hair from his forehead to al- low the breeze to fan his fevered brow! David would rot interrupt him, for, judging from his movements he believed the poor fellow was try- ing to decide whether he slept, or was really awake--whether those tidings were indeed a glad truth, or but a dream to be in one little mo- ment dispelled,.and his solitude be rendered more unbearable that it had been believed, at an end. At last coming back into the house, he grasped the hands of his brother and said in a very trem- bling voice: "David, I have not deserved all this devotion- you have acted more than a brotherly part, but now I cannot speak of it: I believe-no, it can- not be a dream, no dream could seem soreal- my heart begins to open to receive the great joy, but my banishment from real gladness has been so long an one, we must wait a little--wait a little till I become accustomed to this wonderful change." "Amid until you put it in my power to break my fast, which has lasted since a very early hour this morning, and from which I begin to feel symptoms'not in the least enviable," exclaimed David in a gay -tone. The little speech had the desired effect upon Wilson. His thoughts so suddenly turned from himself to the necessities of one who had done for him more than a brother's duty, in a mao- ment he seemed inspired with all the life and ef- ficiency of a real host. - _ _-_ _ a.- + ...+-..-.. . a -- .... _ _ _ _ tp... II.-. -._-. -.........+..... . ...-...-o. -^ . .. I i I l 1 1 1 J I TIIE MITILERL "Ah! yes David-yes, yes,, how thoughtless Il have been-you look faint and exhausted. Be-c fore I can go about your dinner to prepare it, I1 must get you something to refresh yourself with ntil it is ready." Quickly he disappeared through a side opening in the room, and after a few moments' absence returning, said : "Come Davie, a wash after your long walk will do much towards resting you, and time will pass more quickly too if you are doing something, for, although I have all that one can wish in the way of provision, it requires cook- i'ng, which you have not forgotten must take a ittle time!" As he spoke, he led the way into an inner room from which was a door opening out upon the river. David looked around him with perfect astonishment. Here was a bed having a most in- viting and comfortable look to a weary man. Two or threo'chairs, quaint enough in their fash- ioning, and upholstered with, deer-skin, were sitting around the room. A large wooden bowl, evidently of home manufacture, stood upon a washstand. This last article of furniture was of the necessary height, and consisted of a trans- verse portion of avery large tree, nicely sawn out, and serving'the purpose for which it was made remarkably well. Upon a rock hung towels, which for their niceness might have shamed many a landlady, and just at hand were an abundance of water and soap, h most convincing proof that all these comforts were for use as well as show. A dressing table, of the same style as the wash- stand, supported a small looking-glass, with other articles for the toilet, besides a vase of fragrant flowers, which filled the room with their perfume, and, to complete all, the floor was covered with bark matting, which gave to everything a look of elegance and comfort that would have astonished many another one as it did David McDonald- meeting it here, hundreds of miles away from civilized life. After looking around him for a few moments, his face expressing something of the surprise and admiration he felt, the young farmer exclaimed: "Upon my word, Willie, you are a real prince here ! So far as you are concerned, I don't think I've done anything worthy of thanks ; to be lugged away from so nice a place as you have made of your little home, don't seem to me a particularly desirable thing. At first one is inclined to think it all the work of magic, but a second glance gives all a most tangible position and character,"' " Well, I must leave you to test the material- ity of all by yourself. If-y ou flnd yourself in need of anything not at hand, ring the chambermaid's ESS BAIRN. bell, or what is the same, shout to mte, and I x1 ill do my best to supply your necessities. Afmir your wash yiu had better throw yourself upon the bed for a little time, for a thorough stret e-- ing of one's limbs after so much fatigue is a nost refreshing thing ; and after it, dinner will do 3 t all the more good. Now let questions wait on appetite for an hour or so," and before livid could reply he found himself alone. After his not unwearisome journey of nore than a thousand miles, and the last half of it performed on foot, in a canoe, or upon the Nwk of a borrowed mule, each in its turn, as be couhtl catch it, the thought of rest was really gr-t ful to our traveler. Not i three long weeks had he seen its much of real comfort as lnow surround- ed him in this little home, so remote front ani1 other human habitation; and all was the tt If this one lone man. But it was not natural ihat too long a time should be spent in sentiment al soliloquising, when he had not for long da1 s t - joyed the luxury of such a with as wet now waiting for him, and very soon idding hitnst If of unnecessary clothing, he fell at it with the iphi it of one who fully appreciates the virtue to be ftuint in a free use of soap a-d water, and when hh l toilet was completed, in spite of excitenient, lhe felt himself constrained to act upon the sugg- tion of the proprietor of this liitle iniissiti,nd stretching his really wearied frame upon the hi, he found. it was not to the ey e bdte that it pre- sented attractions, and, as imiiptossible is he mliigft have thought sleep at this time, befitre ten mint t had passed, the luxurious softess of the coucth had soothed him into a refresh ing sin mi r. For a moment after Wilson liarley ft h is guest, he stood with his hands closely pret'(l ft his forehead, and his face was expre-mvxe of a confused gladness. But not long wxas he in Ie calling his scattered facultieS, and very soon wxith the ease and readiness of a prtfessed eootIl fi -t himself about his duties. Ex perilenet had t' nd him the necessity of rest after unitusuial it , before the appetite was gritified, so hte I it 1 was better to tithe time for the pit up of a dinner, somewhat tempting in itst n ilte than to allow haste toi make it-x hat is nearIy a ways found in the back oods-a deihitoint lef. ut spoiled in the throwing together. After ft tin1h the fire in a large open fire pltcte, which h (in its construction known no other mason th1an;1 fhf who now served as cook, and hung over the xrow- itng bliize a kettle of clear water, biriught tinmt spring buit a fewv rods distant finn the hiouci, ihi young man totok [ruin a prest--anI a lmrious hotme-mado loitking a tir was thIi sann pr1 o ll~s- page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. a wooden basin, and soon he might have been seen gathering from the well-tended vines the rich strawberries, which could not have failed to tempt one's appetite at any time, in any land. But a short time was required to fill the ves- sel from the abundance, and good care was taken that not one of a mean appearance for size or ripeness should find its way in - among those so large and juicy. The most fastidious housewife would have been satisfied with the niceness dis- played in this part of the, preparation. During the time consumed in plucking and preparing the fruit for the table, and in crushing cotfee which he had himself roasted, the fire had got so well under way as to be nearly ready for use, and now from a subterranean apartment, reached by rais- ing one of the heavy planks which went to make 'up the floor, a hole scarcely deep enough to be dignified with the appellation of cellar, Wilson produced a pair of prairie chickens ready dress- ed for cooking. These split in half and laid up- on the bright wood coals, soon sent through the little cabin a most inviting and hunger exciting odor, and that mingled with the perfur e of the coffee which was soon smoking near it, foretold a feast in which many an epicure might have wish- ed to share. It was with an emotion very nearly akin to pride that the young man viewed all his arrange- ments, when everything was ready for his.visiter; very often had he entertained guests here in his hermitage, and taken great pleasure in feeding with luxuries, not often enjoyed upon these prai- ries, poor, worn, and half starved hunters, but never before had he prepared a dinner with so much thought to its appearance. David was fast asleep when Wilson entered his bed room to call him, but he knew too-well the sensations and dreams arising from sleeping upon a half famished stomach, to feel any hesi- tation with regard to arousing him. " Come, Davie," he said, laying his hand upon the sleeper's shoulder--" dinner is waiting for such an appetite as you must have !" The young man still half dreaming sprang to the floor and for a moment he was wholly be- wildered, every thing around him seemed so strange. A word from Willie helped him to re- call every thing that had occurred before he slept. "After all, I have not seemed to you such a very slow cook, have I, David ?" "No, Willie, nor is your bed such an one as one would look to find in such an out of the way place as this. It must possess some very peculiar prop- erties, for when I threw myself upon it I had not the most distant thought of sleep, but after my head touched the pillow I had but one idea-that was not such a very definite one either-some- thing like what a Turk might indulge in, when resting in his luxurious cushions." "And I hope my dinner may be as agreeable to your empty stomach, as was my bed to your worn out limbs." Saying this, William led the way to the adjoin- ing apartment, and pointed his guest to one of the two seats at the well-spread table. David sat down, and for a little time looked upon all with an astonishment too great for words. At last he broke out-- "Willie, do you remember the first time Delia Phelps visited our home? I have thought of what she said of our home a thousand times- she was not certain as to its reality-thought it fairy-like, you remember !' Now, I understand precisely how she felt; I am in the same fix with regard to everything here !" "And your best way of becoming convinced of the tangibility of my surroundings, is to attack them, my boy," said Wilson playfully, and then be went on in the same spirit-"and, to begin, I will give you this half of a prairie chicken, and a cup of coffee, which I flatter myself can't be surpassed in the old McDonald home." Following the suggestion of his host, David soon found himself too much absorbed in the work before him for any thing like conversation, and Wilson watched with real satisfaction the eager enjoyment of his brother. At length when he had demolished a second half of a prairie- chicken, and emptied his cup the second time of the refreshing coffee, and passed it to be again filled, he said, "Now do, Willie, tell me how on earth you have managed to possess yourself of all that I see in your house ? your table compares well with our very best, and yet I'm sure I've traveled nearly a hundred miles without coming across a trading post, or even a hut where lived any liu- man being-and yet I find you here in the enjoy- ment of real luxuries-prairie chickens swim- ming in butter, coffee rejoicing in the richest of cream, and delicious civilized bread, and as to the strawberries, I'll ask no questions of them till I have become satisfied on those other points " "I can very easily satisfy you, David," an- swered Wilson, at the same tiume,helping him to a generous dish of strawberries, dressing them well with cream and sugar. "I have very little here, that this magnificent land does not produce for me. The chickens live in tens of thousands upon these plains. As to wheat and corn, I grow THE MITHERLESS. BAIRN. 77 twice as much as I can use every year, without house to build--that I did not finish till near the plow or team of any kind to aid me in the culti- close of the second year. Then all my furniture vation of the land-unless I may call my goats a I made myself, which gave me great amuisem ut. team, four of which I have broken in to draw a I have three rooms-one which I give up to what- drag of my own manufacture over the ground, ever guests I may have, so you see it must have before and after sow my wheat. Then these taken some time to make chairs, tables, bed- goats supply me with milk, and a part of the steeds, and all that-and that matting on my bed year with the best of butter. The bed of straw- room floor I platted myself! The beds are made berries outside the door will account for our of prairie grass, but I had a longing for sit'- dessert. Now I believe 1 have answered for thing softer, and from the feathers of the chickeiis everything except the coffee and sugar. These I and ducks I have eaten, I niade that one upon get at a fur-trading post, where I go every fall which you took your iiap! Sometimes in the and spring, to exchange whatever I may have very hottest weather I have to abandon it, but accumulated that is saleable for these articles, nearly always we have a fresh breeze at nibt which I of course regard as luxuries ; and the which makes it a real luxury. It is now tiw wheat which I raise here, I generally exchange years since I emnple -d all the:e things, and I for flour; and there I get my supply of clothing, have often wished my' comfort required that I which isn't the finest kind, but I find it very should go all through with the manufacture again, confoirtable. Isn't this description taking from butI have all I wish, and more wNould beof noii use. the romance a little, Davie ?" Now can't y)ou invigine the weariness of haN igi "1Not a bit, sir-no, not a bit-but rather add- none to labor for but yourself ?" ing to it-I never in my whole life heard or "To be sure, it must be very desolate, hutith dreamed that man could live in such an indepen- one or two friends here you could be very lop- dent, magnificent way! and you perform all of the 7, duties of farmer, hunter, house keeper and cook,"py '"With one or two friends hero or arnywhJere I s, as well as play the gentleman of leisure, at which David, I could be very happy, was tho1o you were occupied when I came?!" exclaimed Fhadow, dark and dreadful, hanging oier iii. David, with enthusiasm. . . - a - "Yes, and that last is the least agreeable part Hi Said this maon oenest anmourii ,i which told hisi compjanion how fearf ul had been I have to play-when wholly occupied. one es- ca pes from his own tormentir thoughts-but ,,te." idleness wears out one's verydi e' I often Plan solitude." idleessweas ot oe'svery~if I ofen lan "My poor Willie ! don't let us think (if that - all sorts of things to do, hoping to deceive my- it. ybenry ireanil utitis iif ut~ self into the idea that I ainlaboring to some great douhave endred i bravl,- tiino iid ti purpose-but it won't do ; there is no such thiiig bte han1ehud ave doe,-d t nnepi . . better than I shoul('l have done, and now it as enjoying labor, unless it is to the accomplish- should be to y-u and till of'us a natter of piide meant of some desired end ! Wilson said this in the delightfulhonie yonh\uitofur in a melancholy tone which told how much he felt it. here, fathowyou coili(-wlere yen "1And do you pretend to say, Willie, that with ed all these things, that is whbat I don't under- all you must have to do, yi u have more leisure stand-how to make such bread its this-no o1e than you require for rest! Why to look around ever taught you, I am sure, and your chairs and one would think you must be a very slave !"' bedsteads." " You have no idea, David, how much one "Necessity is the another of invention," was man can accomplish, by working day after day- the cheerful answer-"besides we all hail one day after day-the whole year through. No time lesson taught us at home, which must be a great spent with friends--no time consumed in reading help in whatever we undertake-to nevei as we do, at home. I have but one book, that is give up whet we had undertaken to do, uni- a Bible, and I always read some in it at morning less we found it a moral impossibility to ne- and evening-but you know my nature well complish it!" enough to understand, that I have many times "And have you ever found any moral impossi thaught it would be a positive sin for me to open bilities ?" asked David. , that book. We must have the right feeling "Never anything that I have given up as suih," would we be benefited by what we read. Oh ! was the answer. "' There has been one task, I tell you, David, I have sometimes felt that I which for all these five years I have been striv- must go mad with thinking ! The first two, yes, ing at, and sometimes, even within the last few -three years, it was not quite so bad ; I had my days, I have felt it was no nearer being aiccom- page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 78 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. polished than on the day I commenced it, yet I If he turned his eyea to the window, two of these have been determined not to abandon it." tell-tale monuments were just beyond to meet his "But now it will be abandoned, my poor gaze, arid too well this lone man remembered the Willie," exclaimed David, much moved by the tedious hours and days of suffering, like this now voice and manner of his companion." "I don't before him, which the iwo poor fellows who had need to ask you what this has been, that look found their rest there, bore, before they slept which you cast about the room told me plainly their sleep which must endure for years-perhaps enough, and I don't believe many would have for ages.1 striven as nobly as you have to accomplish this- Could it be, he asked himself, that this young to become reconciled to a life of solitude." strong frame, which in its active life of twenty- "Not solitude alone," was the earnest reply, five years, had scarcely known a pulse throb, "but uselessness-inaction. But, as you said, save that of health-which one might thiisk na- David, let us speak of this no more. I have been ture had particularly designed for treading the greatly blessed in the midst of all, and now let rough paths and bufeting the raging storms of life, us talk of home-tell me of all--of each one could it be that such a one was to paint with the separately. I thiuk I could never tire of hearing fatigue and exposure which many a fragile child of those I had grown to regard as lost to me." would ,have hamlessly ended? When life And there, for long, long hours, thje twowas before him so fair and full of promise, and brothers, who had for five long years been so the one cloud was but just removed that had painfully separated, talked of home anddear ones, - -m quiet happiness, vas h'to lay hundIreds of iiles away. himself down and die, hundreds of miles away from those dear ones, whose prayers day and night ascended to Heaven for him-that he might CHAPTER XII. be successful in his mission ? Fear not! but trust in Providence In these hours of anxious watching, Wilson Wherever thou maybt be. Harley learned how quickly a great joy uight be To David McDonald the fatigue and excite- turned into a bitter grif!' When he had listened ment attendant upon this long journey and its to the account David had given him iof those at terniation, proved too much. home-of each one separately, the father--the Luxurious and sleep-conducing as he had found dear old grandmother, who prayed for the return his brother's couch in the afternoon, when at of her Willie before she was called hence-of tlhe last they retired that night, he discovered that faithful, quiet Mamy, whom all had learned tolook not only slumber but rest and comfort had fled upon as more than a sister to their lost one-of the pillow, and all the night long he tossed rest- the joyous Amy, who in her gladdest moments lessly, and uiorning's dawn found linm suffering would become sileut and sad at the mention of from a devouring ifver, which seemed each hour that nae.n--of the younger boys, who, as they had increasing upon himi, until his nurse, physi- passed from noisy, roistering fellows, to more ci n and only attendant found the greatest diffi- thoughtful youths, had not lost their affectionate culty in restraining hin from jumping out of his remembrance of " brother Willie"-had noteeas,- bed to rush from the cottage and 'cast himself edto talk of the grand times they used to jave with into the river, the waters of which murmured him, and which should be so often repeated when so temptingly upon his ear, and of which, half he should orce more come home to them, free and wildly and half consciously, he was continually innocent before the world as they themselves raving. knew him to be! And James, too, though so Wilson Harley had not lived for so many years much absorbed with his own affairs and prospect, upon these meadows of the West, coning in con- was a true brother in heart. tact continually with desolate wanderers and hunt- But these Wilson had felt uirat be true to hie- ere, without forming a sufficient acquaintance there were still others who had shown forth their with the diseases incident to the climate to tell noble generous natures in their defence of him now what was the nature of the fever from him, when the world had regarded hin, as a which his poor, faithful friend was suffering. criminal, and who had labored untiringly and Nor did this knowledge servo to lessen his anxie- self-sacrificingly for his return since the stain had I y. In the almost pur ple face, the parched lips, been removed from his name ! The high-soruled the strained and engorged eyes, thre dry, burning Delia Phelps, who had turned with scorn from hands, there was a shuddering whisper of desolate her scores of city admirers to plight hier faith to graves upon those beautiful but lonely plains ! the plain, unpretending farmer's sorn, had silenced THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 79 all the impatient pleadings of the lover by the what nature had so abundantly provided, the ever promise that when ho had repaired the wrong grateful remedy to the fover-scorched p'tient- her brother had done, as nearly as it might be re- the heaven-distilled cordal-proved sobeneficiil. paired-when he had brought back the wanderer procuring now and then a brirf snatch of sleep to to witness their banns, that very hour, if he wished the sufferer, that for nearly a week lie persevered it, her hand should be given where her heart had in the treatment, and if his skill was not declared long been so entirelypossessed; but so long as the by the improvement of his patient, it was by his head of their dear Mamy was bowedin such deep tenacious clinging to life beyond anything which sorrow, so long as the deeply injured one re- could have been hoped. mained so sadly banished from home and friends- For six (lays David McDonald was never for so long would she feel it unpardonably selfish to one moment conscious ; almost constantly he rejoice as the bride of him she so fondly loved. was in imagination enjoying the society of thise Thig had given Wilson great comfort, to know dear himue-friends whom there seeried snmi l that by all he had been so truly remembered, and hope of his ever seeing moro. The seventh day that the parents of Delia had commended her Wilson looked forward to with heart-trembbrg resolution, might well makie his a proud happi- of hope and fear. He had often heard it sid h ness-but how short-lived had it been ! Every thOse moire thorouglilncqrainrtedl with the coiuror- movement of the invalid, so expressive of suffer- and terumination of the lever thnimi wai h-, tht ing and danger, brought home to him the thought could the patient survive till the sev-nIth lay, of returning to home and friends, which, but a there was small ground for hoping for a ithv ri- few brief hours since had given him such a t-i-. ble change, and all the right of th4- ix hl diy Ie umphant happiness, but now it brought nothing latched over the sick nin, wti n iuixiety but a shrinking dread ! If this life was to be painful i its intenrsity ; but morning e(meii ad sacrificed to secure to him deliverance from a passed, and still lose rone hreartickeing nur solitary existence, in his heart he, said, it had nriniigs of the uniconisciots suffererunded been better that the cloud had remained, for he through the room, and as the ll, day wand ti) had learned to bear-almost resignedly-what seemed i as a death-kinell to all his lioptes. seemed inevitable !How could he go alone to Gradually the patient ws sinking, n-I I i -oW the home of their childhood-to tell that father ly remedy which Wilson had-pure watt r-Sileemi- that the prop of his declining years, upon which ed to poses ie lnger tire power of relit in he had leaned with childish dependence had him or reviving his sinking faculties. Of -I passed away-that ill which remained of him. lie had taken none since the first day of lie t- the faithful, noble hearted David, had been tack, and so constantly had ho reIutired Wilsoi's lain to its last-rest hundreds of uiles away ! wiiatching, the hitter had been quite unable ti go how could he live to hear the cries of sorrow out for gaie to try the effects in broth upoii h. which mut sound through that dearly loved patient; but the dealing if the fever, and ni home-and the wail fr amn that one. womanly that the strength h of p DIa'ivil, wiuir-d th heart, which must tell of hopes forever dead. wateher of the riecessity if dl smoiting, 1 How should lie endure the thought, that it wais fi it but to exierimiet still further. huin all this was .endured-for hini the father's To lenve the patient to proeure gpmir n headwould be bowed with sorrow to the grave ; to be thought of, and lis only alterin J1i wa im for him this hone was filled with woe-, while the of hris goats;-mt another tme thaun athui 'l heart of the high-spirited, hopeful, bertrith o mai lire was cepeinig inpon it, ir 'e e ultn t was made a sepulchre for the love which had life beenless vluabl,, vi-lin mighthavoesinu ul] once been to it such a joy and pride! Ifrond linihit ; )terir gone("fflihec fr i idItIIirIIn I xli el Thoughts like these would it tinies rider tii had been to him so much company, nd had watcher almost frantic, and wlingly woruild hoe served bLur so fuit hfulily, but mow ie wruld ha w have resigned the hope of a few hours before laid dr.n his owyin life willingly to havr av-id could he have awakened and found all a dremll- at ore which seemed flickering ro feeb - but it was no dream, but an earnest reality, and it unur)ily ini hIn lay the kniife I the thit - very soon the sufferer's increased deliriumn ad the trusting, gentle brute without a thought if fever required such constant activity oni the pirt pity or coinmiseration ?Ilie had but one thmight of the watcher, there was small tine left for de- now-that wan, how should he act to prolong thi spending fears. life of his too f-iitlhful frieunl. The resources ira the ay of medicines seemneil The dniy from which lie luad hiiped so nmuchi had snall cuough, yet a very cautious use, at first, of passed, mind now till tine fourteenth day lhe coiiuld page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 0 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. I1 i white cloth, physiian and nurse to make an answer which "We will dine together, Davie, my dear fel- could dampen the spirit of his companion. low-since ever you spoke of it to-day that now For a little time, David was too much absorb- we might eat together, I have been quite impa- ed with eating and praising the chickens, made tient for meal time to come-and for the first doubly delicious by a relish of green peas-the time since you were taken sick, I feel I shall en- first that had been allowed him by his judicious joy eating ;-how do you feel, my poor boy ?" nurse-to think or speak of anything else; at This last was asked in the most coaxing tone, length, laying back upon the pillow in a wearied, and the speaker bending over the invalid smooth- contented way, he said: ed the hair back from his pale brow with a hand "What would I not give, Willie, if the folks as gentle in its caressing touch as that with at home could but look in upon us here. I am which a mother might have soothed a pet child. sure they would pronounce us the most comfort- "Deliciously dependent, Willie," was the able fellows in the world. I can't realise that. cheerful answer, " I had never the most distant we are such a distance away from them though, idea it was so grand a thing to be taken care of ; for all seems so home like." too weak to wish to stir, and entirely free from "I would not have them take a peep at you, pain as I am, rest is a glorious thing ! I have David, till you ,have a little more the look of been watching the sunlight as it flashed across your original self; your face now wouldn't speak the water, and thinking nothing could be more very well for the fare of my bachelor home." Wil- beautiful, but I am not so sure that the perfume son spoke very cheerfully, and his companion from your cookery will not soon make me forget- asked quickly: THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 81 not look for a favorable change, yet the chances ful of everything but the vulgar delight of eat- were small enough that life would hold out until ing." that time. Very seldom since his sojourn upon "So you are hungry," exclaimed Wilson in a these prairies had so long a time passed without delighted voice, "well, I've found just the thing his receiving a visit from hunter or adventurer. for you-no, you need'nt ask what it is, for I Now he looked and longed for the coming of shan't tell you; but just let your mouth water some one, no matter how wild or desperate he for a dinner which would tempt an epicure-it might be, so he was accompanied by the brandy is almost ready !" flask which seldom failed to attend these wander- With this the speaker hurried away, and very ers. In this hour even a few drops of the con- soon the repast was laid upon the table. . tents of such a flask would have been to him a .This is what I have been looking for ever priceless treasure, but fate seemed determined .i"cThisu.sbwatto think aoutw t I brouvt that he should struggle unaided, and faithful, af- since you began tthnabuwatIroght ththesoldsrugaunie, n fihul f you to eat-young p rairie-chickens-but until to- feetionate watching and care triumphed over the yo oetyugparecikn-u ni o diae wichnanedmaryrieded hremedicines day, I have seen none that were fit for the table. disease which had seldom yielded where me These are as fat as they can be, and in the lan- and stimulants were possessed in an abundance; oa perhaps the very absence of these was the salva- guage of an old house-wife, as tender as a perhapsthesvfer er!Povidencchicken.' Would you like to be propped up and tion of the sufferer ! Providence very often fee71 yourself, or shall I feed you ?". As lie asked brings blessing under the cover of trials-with- thi. W'l waIbusy ou ut aspo holding from us the boon we so earnestly plead this. Wilson was busy pouring out a cup of for, because the granting of it would desolate our coffee, seasoning it with the greatest care for the hearts with grief. sick man' One week after David McDonald had passed '"Oh, let me feed myself and you sit down close the crisis, he was lying before the open door,just by the bed, for I shall so much enjoy -to see you at the close of the day,breathing in strength with eat, and you can cut up my food without -getting the freo breeze which came from off the beau- up from the table! Do you know, Willie, it tieful,- briv e w ihameovedmtheouthe beat-seems to me much like what we used to have tiful river. XWilsin Lid moved the bed out, that' when children-don't you remember when his patient might have the full benefit of the when childedont youre ro when coo stenghenng irandthelatter, just began lMamy, assisted by grandma, used to cook such cool, strengthening air, and theit-astea nice little meals, and spread them out of doors ? to realize how much he needed it-as he said-I Well, this is to mie just abcut as earnest as that he vwas just getting strong enough to appreciate wa s his weakness. Wilson was in the adjoining was!. room busy with his household affairs. Soon en- Wilson's smile was a sad one. To him, there tering the bed room, he moved the table to the was in his present life little to remind him of bi d id a aing 9as le read upon it a clean play-house days, but he was by far too judicious a i { 11 8 e ,.v 3U7 esyiu g pUR~a~ jia v N ~ . .{, n roo fn rrialrn on .nnamc r" ra, inh sr c.i n nr cl rl ........... "Am I so much changed by my sickness, Wil- lie ?" "In yourr face, very much changed, my poor Davie, but not more than we would expect from such an illness. Do you know how long since you arrived here, David ?" "No, that is the very thing I was thinking of to-day, but I suppose it must be as much as two weeks." Wilson smiled mournfully as he an- swered: ',It is one month to-day, my dear David-you came the fifteenth of June-this is the fifteenth of July." The face of the invalid was express- ive of the greatest astonishment. "One month, Willie !-the fifteenth of July-- are you serious?" "tes, I am quite serious-did you not feel at that time, when you awoke-more than a week ago it was-that you had slept very long ? You remember you asked me, was it late? thinking evidently that but one night had passed since you arrived, and, as I judged from your manner, that you had overslept yourself! Since that have you had no recollection of the time which intervened between your coming here and the time of that awaking 1" " No, I only felt that I had dreamed a great deal," was the answer"-though when I wished to get up, you told meI had been sick, which I should very soon have discovered from my weak- ness ; yet I had no idea, Willie, that I was 'so long sick-it must have been nearly three weeks!" " You were insensible to all that passed around you, three weeks'to the very day, David !" "And all that time you were here alone, Wil- son-no one to assist you in the care of me !" exclaimed the invalid in a commiserating way. " Did you have any fears that I would not re- cover, at any time I" he asked in a low voice. "You had better have asked-had I at any time a hope that you would recover, and I should have answered you, it was impossible to give up all hope while there was life! Your disease was such as very few in this part of the world re- cover from; yet you had a very severe attack, and without a grain of medicine lived through it, though it run the very extreme limit of its course upon you, which is twenty-one days." "And all this time I knew nothing of your anxiety and suffering, my poor Willie. How dreadfully desolate you must have been !" " Your unconsciousness was the greatest bless- ing to both of us, David-let us feel thankful 'for it-for had you realised but a fourth part of your suffering, you could not have lived. A look at 11 these thin hands will tell you something of what it must have been !" The invalid regarded for a moment his emaci- ated hands, with a sad, thoughtful expression; then seeming to recollect himself, he exclaimed : "What must they think at home? IIt is now a full six weeks since they have received a word from me, and Heaven only knows how much longer it must bel rve no patience with my- self, Willie, thatI should have got sick at such a time! Strong as I was, there was no possible use in it! How we might have been at home long before this had I but shown myself half a man! I tell you there was no sense in my giving out at such a time!" The young man spoke in an excited, impatient way. His companion took one of his thin hands within his own. "David! David! let us not dare to murmur, but rather lift our hearts to Heaven with thanks- giving! You have stood upon the very brink of the grave, and yet your feet were staid there! Let us thank God with our inmost souls, that this stroke did not fall when it seemed almost upon us! It is not ours to yield, or not, to dis- ease, as we may choose. Man, with all his boasted strength, must yield, even as an infant, when sickness comes-and in this, as in every thing else, we have the one comfort,-no trial- not even the very smallest one, is without a pur- pose !" "Yet will you not acknowledge, Wilson, this was quite unnecessary?" asked David, in a voice which showed him somewhat humbled-"I may require a little chastising, I do not doubt but that I do-but I have not been the sufferer-to me it has been no more than a dream! All the trial has fallen upon you, and Heaven knows you had suffered enough before!" "We must endeavor to believe, David, that Heaven knows much better than we can what we need-if we are never able to see why this should have been, it is such a blessing that we know there is an eye unlimited in vision, which understands wherein all this was required!-Lie quiet, David; I can't allow you to talk any miore -but you.may just listen calmly to what I have to say, for I have thought of all this a great deal. "When you were first taken sick I knew well the nature of your disease, and, fully realizing your danger, I was almost wild with anxiety. Having no kind of medicine-not even the most simple-I knew not what to do! I have never kept any medicine for my own use, having no one to administer it in case I was ill; and hAving seen too much of the bad results of a sick man, un- page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] I 82 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. educated in the science, taking medicine with-7 out even sober reason to guide as to quality or i kind, I had thought it better, if disease shouldN come, to allow it to take its course! But when you were taken so violently ill, how sorely I re- gretted my extreme prudence r but there was no help for it. Could I have left you, fifty miles at least must have been passed over to have procur- ed what I required; but to leave your side was out of the question, so all that was left to me wasf to do the very best I could, and hope and pray that some straggling hunter might happen along,1 to provide me with a part, if not all, that your case required. "Sometimes I grew almost frantic with wait- ing and watching, but none came, and now I con- fidently believe it is to the absence of all these remedies we owe your recovery. Circumstances compelled me to make the most of what I pos- sessed, and you not only passed the fearful crisis in safety, but since that you have gone on mend- ing with astonishing rapidity. Providence knew better than I did what you required, and in spite of my importunings, acted for your good. I be- lieve, David, it is always so, though it may be very hard for us to reconcile it with our human wisdom, Sometimes, to make us more trusting, perhaps, circumstances are so arranged that, blind as we are, we can't help seeing that what we had thought a bitter affliction, proved a very great ble ssing. Is it not possible, we may sometime learn wherein this very serious illness of yours was necessary to our actual good ?" Wilson's low tone and gentle manner quite, soothed his patient's excited irritability, and when the speaker paused with this question, David said with a smile; " Your life has made you very different from what you used to be, Willie, and we were never much alike ; you know very well I am no philos- opher!" This was said with a smile. "But you are a Christian, David, which is much better !" was the quick, earnest answer. "I don't know--I'm not so pure I am that either. I don't think I have been subjected to the-test which decides real practical christianity! When all goes fair and prosperous, it is very easy to trust all to God,-to say we believe He does every thing for the best and acts with a wisdom which man should not dare to question ; but trial and sorrows and disappointments make a very different case, and the christianity that won't stand these-that won't enable one to look to God still with confidence, and say with sincer- ity, ' though Thou slay me, yet will I trust in Thee,' isn't the kind one wants, and I am afraid s the kind I possess." The invalid spoke in a way that told his companion how much he felt what he was saying. "There may be much truth in all you say, David, but when every other prop is removed beyond our reach, to me it would seem an un- natural thing to refuse that one that can never, fail. In prosperity, one might easily forget God, for surrounded by thousands of worldly blessings, he don't realize their need of those divine- but when desolate, almost hopeless, how unnatu- ral to cast aside the only glimmer of hope and comfort." "Ah! yes, you understand ; but remember, every one don't understand !" was the reply- 'but, to seem the Christian so completely as to deceive the world and even one's self, is very easy, when all-goes fair; but seeming won't an- swer in adversity-that shows you to yourself and the world as you really are-and I had almost said, that only can !" Just at this moment,. a shadow falling across the door, made Wilson start up, and an instant after, a stranger stepped upon the threshold. There was no need that he should ask for rest and food ; his haggard face told how much both these were required ! Wilson pas no new hand at acting the hospitable host, and very soon in the adjoining room the traveler was partaking of a comfortable dinner, and scarcely was he through with satisfying the cravings of hunger, when his head began to droop, and stretching himself upon the floor, he soon slept as a man who had known no rest for days ! For two or three hours Wilson allowed the poor worn-out fellow to lay as he had thrown himself down, for he seemed so unconscious of the hardness cfhis couch, a sleep seemed so much of a luxury to him, the young man thought it a pity to break his slumbers ; but after all the household duties had been completed, and David comfortably settled for the night, the apartment which had long ago been christened "the guest chamber," was prepared by Wilson to receive the worn-out stranger. It was with great diffi- culty he was aroused sufficiently to change the floor for a comfortable bed, and before his head scarcely touched the pillow he was in a sound sleep again--having hardly spoken a word of thanks for all the kindness he was receiving. TIIE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 83 i i 11 f i W II .=_. 4 CHAPTER XIII. having been required by David for broth, before As polished steel receives a stain, his condition would admit of his being left alone From drops at random flung, sufficiently long for his nurse to procure animal So does the child, when words profane food upon the prairie, bat forgetful of tho fate of Drop from a parent's tongue. The rust eats in, and oft wefind, their fellows, these two trusting creatures bound- Thait naught which we can do, Tocleanse the metal, or the mind, ed forward to greet their master, and so broke The brightness will renew. ANON. up his soliloquy. Long before sunrise, according to his usual cus- t Wl H 1 - I The day was well advanced before David tonm, Wilson Harley was out on the prairie with Tedywswl dacdbfr ai his rifle, to procure game for the day's use. This showed a disposition to arouse himselfand not un- morning the presence of the stranger in his house til long after he had enjoyed a refer thingg bath, and rendered it doubly necessary that he should lay~ partaken of an invigorating breakfast, rendered in a good supply, for, from the man's starved look doubly pleasant that he could feed himself, and so and manner, the owner of this snug domicil fore- leave Wilson free to enjoy the meal with him sit- saw a visit of three or four days st least from the ting close beside the bed-not until long after worn out traveler, in which time he might be- this, did Wilson disturb his quiet. Long as his come recruited for the continuance of his jour. sleep had lasted, the wearied man showed no dis- ney. - position to arouse himself, but at last the men- But it was not a very serious task the provid- tion of breakfast made him open his eyes, and ing of food for his household. The plains were soon he was seated at his repast with tn appe- fairly swarming with prairie hens with their title which seemed utterly ignorant of the supper broods, a few of the latter being sufficiently which had been provided the evening bfore. grown to make most delicious eating; while Wilson looked at the poor fellow with no co-in smaller winged game, of several varieties, were , devouring what had been placed before him, the flitting constantly across the hunter's track ; andderng what een pla bfore him, t upon the river's bank the parent ducks, with ,. . - scrutiny. There was almost a fascination in the their young families-such plump little ducklings man's cadaverous face, and Wilson was fall of as might well make the mouth of a culinary con-speculation as to what could have induced ono noisseur water with expectation-were to be speculatimaasto wate cou h ef ut uon found in thousands. Had his family been ten in this emaciated state, to trust iaiself out upon times larger than it was, Wilson would have the prairie, uninhabited as it was by manrand found his morning's labor anything but wean- himself not provided with the means of prcur- some-the providing for the necessities of the ing food to keep himselffrom starvation, day-for a natural fondness for gunning had But from anything that it was likely he would grown into almost a passion since he had been learn froln the traveler there would be a great compelled to indulge in it so much for the pro- chance for him to go on speculating, for the man's curing of his daily food, yet his humanity nearly decided reserve amounted to taciturnity, and when always kept him from taking even one life which he had completed his meal-which was not until his need did not demand. he had devoured nearly everything-that had been As the young Man returned from his morning's placed before him-he arose, and with half spoken hunt, which might be counted his only amuse- words of thanks commenced making his prepar- ment, it was with a feeling something like regret ations for a departure. that he thought of the good-bye he should very Now Wilson felt it was time for him to reion- soon bid to these scenes, which he felt he had strate, although there was something in th- look been familiar with for a lifetime; and this last and manner of the man to make any one regard month had made all doubly dear to him. him as anything but a desirable companion or "With a friend or two," he said to himself, "yes, guest; yet hospitality, or even common humani- with one friend, so I could choose that one and ty, seemed to cry out against one, very far passed no shame, I could be more than content to remain the meridian of life, and suffering from active here; then my life would not be aimless and the disease, as one would judg' he was from the dry world which I have grown to dread, I should cough which he now and then gave, starting out have small dealings with-could I ask her to give upon his journey through the broiling July sun, up all the rest for me-could I expect she would with almost no hope of his enduring the fatigue do it?" to which he must be exposed before reaching a At this moment his two tethered goats, all that point where any mIode of conveyance could be pro remained of his little flock, the others, all of them, cured. I i i r s ,I page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 1V As he said this, there was in his eye a fiery "Ha ! ha ! you need not recoil-I only wished glow which made his companion shrink away ;- to convince you," he said in a half indifferent way, 11 4I "You are not going, air-the sun is overpower- ing in its heat, and feeble as you seem you would faint before anhour !" For an instant the eyes of the traveler were turned upon the speaker; it was the first time Wilson had been able to catch his gaze, and the demoniac expression which seemed a part of those light blue eyes, was a strong enough plea to let the fellow go without another remon- strance. But then he was a man-or at least bore the form of one-and the past had taught Wilson the injustice of judging too hastily-at least let the past have been whatever it might, now he- was a fellow-wanderer, and sympathy seemed most natural. After the first moment the young man's remon- strance seemed quite unheeded-even forgotten by the grizzly bearded stranger. The only ac- companiment he had-a small greasy knapsack- he had carefully adjusted over his shoulder, and confined it there by a strap passing across his breast and under one arm. The fastening of this was looked to with as much care as had it been a safeguard to a miser's treasure, and the host saw that his kind words had scarcely been ob- served by the old man. " You have nearly fifty miles to pass over be- fore you find another white man, sir; do you think you have the strength to endure the fatigue ?" Wilson asked this in a way which could not fail to elicit a reply-his manner was respectful, and his voice and words were expressive of sin- cerity. "Fifty miles, you say !" was the answer, in a half dubious tone. "Fifty miles ! well it can't be got over by lying still, young man." "No, certainly not," said Wilson, now more than half attracted towards the stranger, for his voice possessed a peculiar charm in its musical tones, which had not been before perceptible, as this was the first time he had spoken, save in monosyllables, and his pronounciation was not that of a wild hunter, as one would have expect ed from his appearance. "But, is it so imperative that you should be in haste? a few days' rest might prepare you for your journey, and possible secure to you company, for hunters frequently pass over this route." " I wish no company, young man, and I've n few days to lose. My life has been long, but shall count it all lost-all lost- should I fail i doing the one thing that remains to me!" . ii 8 r it told that this somethiny was no work of love- that it was the closing up of a life dark and fear- ful-but his contact with desperate characters had not been of rare occurrence since his banish- ment from the world, and he had long since learn- ed that to influence them at all, it was necessary to treat them with a frank confidence. " Your business is your own, sir, but as a fellow- man I would do my best to persuade you to take a day at least to recruit, if that business is of the least importance to you or any one else. For in your present state you can't endure the hardship you will be compelled to meet, before coming to the next stopping place; and if you perish alone upon the prairie, your work must perish with you-besides you have no means of procuring food." " No, my old rifle had served me well, but I lost it three days ago. Worn out with walking, I thought to try an old raft, but it was too much racked, and I came near going over-as it was, my rifle, which I had used for more years than I can tell, went to the bottom of the river. But I can't stop, young man-I may need rest, and by and bye I shall have a long one, but not yet. I should sleep illy if this last act of my life was not done-even were the grave my bed, I should not rest !" The voice of the old man seemed much changed as he said this. It was no longer clear, but hollow and mysterious in its sound. Wilson saw it was useless to attempt to dis- suade him, and now all that was left, was to fit him out as well as it lay in his power for the con- tinuance of this journey, "Are you acquainted with the trail before you?" was the young man's inquiry-and when his companion answered that he was not, having passed much lower when on his way to the mountains. Wilson went on, " You mentioned having tried an old raft-if you have strength to manage it, I can let you have a small skiff, which would give you a little t better chance of getting through, as you could - carry provisions. Do you think you have strength e in your arms to manage a very small craft over t swift rapids, which you will find about half way Y on from here to the fort ?" y The traveler smiled at this question, and Wil- son thought the smile made his ghastly face more o fiendish than it was before, and when the bony I hand was outstretched and grasped his young n arm in a vice-like manner, Wilson shrunk away from the strange being in spite of himself. _......- i i THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 85 letting go his hold. "You are satisfied of my "Yes, it is fearful, and he would be an enemy strength, very.well. As to skill, if it is to be to be dreaded,Willie !" was the invalid's answer, procured by twenty years of more or less practice, with a good deal of excitement. "I believe," I can paddle canoe or skiff over any river in the he went on, after a minute, "there is nothing West--so if you can serve me, young man, don't within that man's power, that he would not do linger about it, for I've no time to lose - to accomplish a wish or object. le would stab His manner was imperative, and Wilson felt to the heart the one that had but just served him no inclination to oppose his departure further. -perhaps saved his life-so it would secure to That he had once known much of refined society him revenge. I believe it, Willie, and I am glad was evident from his language, yet at times his he is gone! Had he known of your having this manner was almost fierce, and with his sick skiff, he would not have waited for you to offer companion still almost helpless, Wilson felt it it-no, I am very glad he is gone, for I must ac- was better for them to be left alone. knowledge I hav'nt felt quite comfortable since Bidding the stranger follow, he led the way to he.came in at that door, except when I slept, and a cave near by from which he hauled forth a then I dreamed of his sepulchral face. In a sick snug little skiff,,which had served him well in man, who can't walk across the room, this won't the fishing seasons for the two last years. The be counted cowardice, so I may dare to acknow- old man expressed his satisfaction in the little ledge it. His way of looking at one was any craft, and just after the burning sun had passed thing but pleasant." the ' meridian, with a good supply of bread, 1"Well, we wont mind him now, David; he's vegetables and broiled game to support him to his off, and we need not dread of seeing or hearing journey's next stage, the stranger and his little from him again. At any rate, he's entitled to our boat pushed out into the stream, and it was with sympathy, for he's not happy; and as to our feel- a feeling of satisfaction and relief that Wilso ing anxious about his work in hand, we know watched the strange being glide swiftly away nothing of what it is, and have done for him only with the current. our duty. I was going to ask you to part with "Is he really gone ?" was David's inquiry as one of your revolvers to make up for the loss of his friend entered his chamber. his rifle, but a reconsideration of the matter made "Yes, really gone," was the answer, " and I me change my mind, for, without it, he is com- am not sorry. He is a very remarkable beig, paratively harmless. I had my doubts about his and I believe he is upon no good mission. His mind being quite right." manner made one feel this, and when all was "It may be as near right as it ever was," an- ready for a start, he took my hand for a moment, swered David in a more cheerful tone, "but saying,I. not more than half the folks in this world are "'I thank you for what you have done for me, ever more than half sane. People may say what young man-that is all I can do. If the world they please of revenge, but to me it is the most had- all been more like you, I might have been unnatural thing in the world, and where one is what I am not. But you have saved my life, seeking it, I should 'Without hesitation pronounce friend, that I may complete my work; for your him a monomaniac. As though an injury we have sake I could almost wish it was a better one, then received could be lessened, or made any easier to might it bring to you a blessing! But none was bear, by our doing the perpetrator of it one as ever blessed for serving me, though I am not un- bad or worse. I am not particularly forgiving or grateful! Good bye. The best wish I have to good-natured, but because I have been made un- leave you is, may you never know a burning thirst happy through the suffering of myself or a 'dear for revenge, for it cannot be satisfied!' friend, to me it wouldn't seem mending the matter, "With this last word still lingering upon his particularly, to set my conscience lashing mue." tongue, before I could reply he shoved off into "You always take it for granted, David, that the stream, and was very soon out of hearing. everybody has had such a mother as we had - Poor man! it makes me almost shudder to look that everybody is to understand all these points at his gray locks, and almost skeleton form, and in morals, the same as you do. But now try to think he isjust holding on to life, that he may se- imagine a mother getting angry with her child- cure through revenge, redress for real or imagin- ren-those no worse than we usedl to he, nd ary wrongs. Is it not fearful ?" Wilson had seat- punishing them in a way a decent brute-could ed himself close beside the bed, and bowed his brutes speak--would condemn; beating them per- head upon his hand in a desponding way. haps until their strength and anger wero both , k , P a { page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. exhausted; tell me what kind of a disposition must approve, for the love of good and the Au- do you think that would cultivate ? not one par- thor of all good, and because our happiness and ticularly forgiving, I am sure you will acknow- the happiness of all who are near us will be in- ledge; and yet from what I have seen of life, I am creased by a right life ? Not oftener than once inclined to set more than half the mothers down in a score of years, I will venture to say ; but in- in this very category. They don't regard their stead, they are continually holding up before children as human beings entrusted to their care those to whom they have been sent. to teach and fr training, and preparation for the world, and preach the law of love, the terrors of eternal pun- laborers in society, but as their offspring, whom ishment, eternal death, if they do not fellow the they have a right to indulge or thrash to their way they point out! Npw to me, this is just as ruin, just as the spirit moves them. They might much to the purpose for the persuading of man- plead, and with a great show of justice 'too, kind to become good, sincere, practical Chris- that it was not their fault-their mothers and tians, as is the mother's thrashing of her boy or teachers had done the same with them, and of girl to the making of him or her a good, obedient, course their children, when it comes their turn justice-loving child. And now, not another word, to tyrannize, stand upon the same footing-so David, we have talked too much for you already, where is it to end? " and while I am getting your dinner ready, you "Heaven only knows ?" was David's answer; must have a little nap.", "but do tell me, Willie, who ever put all these David showed himself more inclined to be si- things into your head? One would think you lent than to make any reply, but his mind was too must have lived about four-score years, bringing much occupied for sleep. To him Wilson was a up a large family for yourself, and then watched great mystery-so full of thought, and yet in ev- each of your children in the training up of his erything so thoroughly practical. and her family; you talk much more like a patri- arch than like a boy of twenty-three. You never learned all this wisdom at home-or if you did, , C H A P T E R X I V. you are a much more apt pupil than any of the "I have not loved the world, nor the world me- rest of us, for we never think of-these matters in But let us part fair foes; I do believe thw o dThough I have them not, that there may be the way you do." Words which are things-hopes which willnot deceive, "It has been more by comparing our home, and 'And virtues which are merciful, nor weave Snares for the failing; I would also deem the care and training we received, with that which O'er others',griefs that some sincerely grieve; I have seen since my boyhood, that I have grown That two, or one, are almost what they seem,- That goodness is no name, and happiness nio dream." to find excuses for so many of my fellow beings [CTg, h oHAROLD. in home teaching," was Wilson's answer; but his Mr. Farnhan, of the firm of Amos Phelps & companion said: Co., had been for a few weeks the occupant of a "I don't understand it so-or, at any rate, I very retired but pretty cottage in the central don't believe we would any of us have done the part of the State of New York. Here, with his same. However, let us drop that; and now do only child, he had shown a strong disposition to tell me where all this begins-for everything has seclude himself from all society or intercourse a beginning, or first cause-and where is it to with the world, and not only himself but ,his end?" daughter, too, whom one needed but to look at "I may almost hesitate in answering your ques- to learn something of her capability for impart- tion conscientiously, but you must keep in mind, ing happiness wherever she might go, as well as David, these are only opinions. Leave a person securing to herself a pretty good share of enjoy- alone as much as I have been, and he or she will ment. Had not her disposition been of this pe- find it very difficult not to ferm some kind of an culiarly elastic kind, she must have found very opinion upon almost every question that ever pre- little to make life desirable, for by her father she, sented itself to the mind, so you must not think was regarded and watched as a prisoner, more me egotistical because'I think for myself ; for five than as an only child, who must sooner or later- years self has been almost my only companion. if her life was prolonged, as from her fine I can be forgiven for having grown somewhat health one might reasonably expect it would be,' partial to the old fellow. I believe this false sys- for many years-become the inheritor of his vast tem of training the young, has its origin in false wealth-the sole heir to all he had toiled so in- religious ideas. Tell me, how often do we hear a dustriously to heap up-his nearly a million of minister, or religious teacher of any kind, plead- dollars. But he was not one to allow this mat- lag an upright, straight-forward life, such as God ter to pass unconsidered, and thoroughly had he THE MITHERLE, sought for one to whom he could trust his two treasures, but thus far his search had been vain. Old enough that naturally the end of his race should have seemed to him near, this man shrank from the thought of death, as if he had been the only one upon whom the sentence had been pro- nounced. Without a heart-throb of love for any being on earth save his child, without confidence in even her, he clung to the world with! more than mortal strength, refusing to listen if one spoke of another life, for which it seemed neces- sary that he should be making himself ready. "This life," he would say with cold bitterness, "has been quite enough. When it is done I would be dead-senseless as the earth which shall cover me; I have no hope, no desire beyond-no! nor fear-I have lived and shall be dead ! If there is a Creator, to him be all the glory or shame connected with my life, whieh has contained very little of good to me." Such, and even more sceptical and chilling re- plies, were received by all who could gain his ear, and ventured to remonstrate with him on his un- natural way of looking to the end, which to all others than himself was seen rapidly approach- ing. To all who had access to his secluded home, it was evident the man of the world was passing from his possessions; but these all were very few. The physician of the neighboring village; a lawyer whom-he had called upon to act as his man of business when he had found it necessary to have as much as a letter written, and two or three of the wealthier, more worldly old men, were all. His constant, ever-faithful companion and nurse, was his young and beautiful daughter, and she was all he wished for; and cold he now have been assured that a century of ears was before him, to be spent as had been the last few weeks, he would have declared himself content. Not that he seemed happy, or that his child could be to him a gay, even a cheerful companion; but it was as near to happiness as anything he had known in Iong years, and better than anything he could look for in the future; and as to his child, Henrietta, she was almost content that she was allowed to rest quietly'in a little home-like nook. Since her early childhood she had scarcely known what it was to rest. Her .father would) place her in a school, to which he had been re- commended by a most reliable friend, but scarcely would he have left her,-when distrust would creep, into his heart ; he would fancy he saw covert do- signs in either the friend or those having charge of his daughter, upon her or him, or his wealth ; so with some pretence, it scarcely mattered what SS BAIRN. 87 -for he permitted no one to question him-he would remove her, just as she had become suffi- ciently attached to feel a sense of home-sickness stealing over her at the severing of newly-formed ties. So nearly her whole life of twenty-one years had passed-she, the envied of many an one, yet herself feeling that the daughter of the simple cottager, with her home love and home duties, was an object which she might well envy. And other cares and sorrows, too, she had than this. Her father she loved-not blindly-but de- votedly-unselfishly. She knew well he was not what he once had been, though his face with the dark cloud was the only father's-the only pa- rent's face she had everknown ; but her heart told her there had been a time when it had not rested there-that a crushing sorrow, as her fears some- times whispered, a crushing shame hadstamped it upon hin ; and, loving him as she did, it was not possible for this young girl to escape the effects of this shadow. When, in early spring, Mr. Farnham had de- clared to his daughter his determination to seek a home within a little cottage, in a most seclu- ded part of the country, where they should see no one only such as they might choose, and have the benefit of fresh air and exercise, which his gradually failing health admouished him were most essential, she received the ipteligence with delight. It mattered very little to her where she went, so it was home-though, had it been her's to choose, she would have said the country in pre- ference to the city, and a cottage hoo1 rather than one of splendor. Her father was no niggard in his providing, nor did she lack taste in the expenditure of his wealth, and she found her little home a very at- tractive place; so munch so, that she felt she could be very happy here with no other society than her father, her books and her music-act- ing the housewife when necessary, and attending her garden for amusement. Nor did Henrietta find, on trial, that she hail overrated her domestic qualities. Her home seemed to her a delightful place, and narrowly she watched herself that, by no look or wish ex- pressed, should her father be led to seek change on her account, and now surely she felt they were safe from his apprehending anything serious fromI any acquaintance or intercourse with society- for they had none that could afford any one the least pleasure. Early in May they had left thme city, and then Mr. Farnham had not allowed his feebleness to be but slightly visible to any one-even to Ilhenri- etta-though she knew he was very far from well, } 9 a , { page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 THE MITHIERLESS BAIRN. for too often she heard his uneasy turning upon his bed, and sometimes, during the still hours of the night, she heard his troubled step up and dewn his room, which told that rest was a stranger to his pillow.;. but to her anxious inguiries,his re- ply was always that he was well, and her know- ledge of his.nature forbade her pressingthe mat, ter. Bat as spring lost itself in summer,. he yielded more and rpore to the enervating influ- ences around him,.and often times stern and silent he sat from morning till night unoccupied, save with his thoughts. Before coming into this secluded home, Mr. Farnham had confided to his partner, Mr. Phelps, his plan for the summer, to remain perfectly quiet and separate from business for the year, that, as he expressed it, he might become famish- ed for the turmoil connected with it, of which he was now heartily sick. Although these two men often disagreed, yet no person had for long years the -decided confidence of this cold unloving man of the world that Mr. Phelps had. How he had won it he could not 'himself well have told, for well he remembered the many sharp controversies they had held, not alone upon business, but often upon important moral questions, which not un- frequently leave bitterness behind. ' "I think he will withdraw from the house- he is immensely rich, and with this one child only to provide for, I can see no good reason for his remaining where he is sure to be crossed, for I can't hold my peace when I hear such ideas ad- vanced; and to tell you the truth, I shan't be sorry when the day of our dissolution comes, for he is not a pleasant partner." This, or something very like it, had been Mr. Phelps' remark to his wife nearly a score of times, yet the firm remained the same ; and when Mr. Farnham told of his plans for the year, he gave up all care and management to his partner more entirely than he had ever done before, confiding to him his retreat, at the same time requesting him not to annoy him in matters of business, or reveal to any one his secluded quarters. And three months gave themisanthrope no cause to regret his confidence, for never in all that time' had he been been vexed with unnecessary letters, or a visitor that could have been attributed to any information given by his partner. Yet instead of becoming famished for the world, by being out of it, he every day grew more entirely to dis- like it, to wish never more to return to it. But his child soon begun to understand that his thoughts, let them be what they might, were not health-producing, and day after day, she increas- ed her efforts to win him from his moodiness, to converse with her, to listen to her music or reading, or to give her his assistance in, caring for her flowers. But her efforts proved futile or nearly so, for in spite of everything he kept his place in his large chair, every day growing thin- ner, and, had it been possible, more dejected, his face wearing the expression of one inwardly struggling against fate, yet compelled gradually to yield. But for her father's apparent unhappiness, Henrietta would have been very happy in her cottage home, for, with all her capabilities for deriving enjoyment from the outer world, she was very far from dependent upon it, having within herself resources sufficient to atone. for the loss of society; but when she saw the only object the earth contained for her to love,. without hope or joy, she, could not fail to feel her heart at times weighed down by gloom. The silence which Henrietta's father had ever manifested towards her upon nearly all.subjects, but particularly upon his cause for shunning and hating the world., had made her fear ever to ap- proach him upon that matter, or even ask a ques- tion which might give him an, idea it was called up by his peculiarities. Yet this would not have been so much a source of sadness to her, had it not been so connected with another thought-her mother. Once-it had been very many years since-she had asked her father to tell her of her mother, who hed died long before she could re- member ! How this 'request had been received she was not likely to forget-the perfect storm of rage which had been expressed in her parent's face, and the terror which his voice had sent through her,as he bade her never question him again of one who had turned him from a man to a fiend, who had well nigh made him hate his own child, that she had been its mother. She had not a coward's heart, yet the thought of her father's words sent a chill to her very soul, even after years had passed away, and, whatever might be her desires, this remembrance proved sufficient to keep her from asking further ques- tions. But often enough she longed and prayed that her parent's reserve might be cast aside, that she might give him all the comfort to be derived from sympathy; for, whatever might be the sor- row-aye-shame. was it' not her own as well as his? And that he should carry it to the grave shut close within his heart, drawing his very life blood, she felt was doing not only himself but her a cruel wrong However, time had gone on so long without bringing any change, she had almost ceased to hope for any, and, woman-like, made the most of THE EITHER] the little she could do for her father, coaxing him out into her little garden sometimes-exercising her ingenuity in getting up tempting dishes for his delicate appetite, and, while he sat at table, chatting away, encouraged by scarcely an an- swer, thus hoping to win him to forget himself and take more than his scanty morsel of food ; but, had not her perseverance been inexhaustible, she would have very soon been discouraged by her poor success, and, as it was, her heart often enough sank within her ; but she felt there was no good in despair, and possibly her unhappy parent was a little less wretched when he saw her cheerful--so day after day she tried her little wits and bore her failures as best she could. The first of August came without bringing with it any marked change, and one, at least, of the dwellers in the little cottage began to feel in connection with all around her, a most agreeable home sensation.' Every day the man of all work was sent to the village, to bring home whatever the post office might contain for them ; but Hen- rietta waited his return with no anxiety, for none of her many friends knew where to direct their epistles had they been disposed to write-but with her father it was very different-from the moment the man set out upon his errand, 'till he returned with the welcome intelligence-"no letters"-he was a stranger to rest; yet,;tq a casual observer, this would not have been so ev- ident as was it to his child, who watched every movement of his dark, overshadowed eyes, in a way which told her how dear was his happiness to her. One day when she was engaged upon a piece of sewing, sitting near her father, she ven- tured to say, as she saw his eyes turn quickly at some slight noise, "What makes you start so, father ? it .was but this rose bush sweeping against the window !" "I start!" he exclaimed in a tone too expres- sive of offense to be misunderstood--"I did not start, Hettie, and I don't wish to be told that I did by my child." Seeing her mistake in speaking of it, or show- ing that she observed his discomfort, the daugh- ter hastened to make amends, by saying in a very quiet tone : "I might have been mistaken, father, but I was unusually anxious about you to-day, for you were not looking as well as usual, and I may be nervous myself; but don't be angry with me, dear father." As she said this, she put aside her work, and leaving her chair, took her place upon a stool at her parent's feet, laying her cheek down upon his knee, in a pleading way. "! -- .......M.,.... --l ; I --- - LESS BAIRN. 89 "No, no, Hettie, child, I am not angry ; what should I be angry at ? Why will you fret your- self in this way ? I've no cause to be angry, and I'm no criminal, that I should start at every sound-am I, daughter ? I say I'm no criminal, Hettie, that I should be afraid of the wind; tell me if you have ever thought, me criminal, or ever dreamed ill of me ?" He spoke in a hurried, half gasping tone, which quite alarmed his child; and his eyes were strange in their expression, as they might, have been, had he been gazing upon some heart chill- ing sight, which as yet no other eye had seen, but which he was in momentary expectation of being discovered by one who of all others he would have never behold it. Henrietta was now truly alarmed. " Why do you speak like this, father?" she said, pleadingly; "how could I dream ill of you? how could I think you criminal? I know you have suffered ; that you always suffer; but I don't think it your fault ; if I ever did, father, I don't think so now!" " There, that is enough, Hettie-if you ever did, you don't now-that is enough!" He said this in a cold, severe tone, and his child understood that his more gentle mood was gone; but, if she had possessed the courage to reply, the arrival of the servant would have prevented her. As was her wont, she hastened out to receive whatever he might have brought for her father. " There's one letter, ma'am-and not sich a very great load to carry, either, ma'am, though they seem in a might hurry about its gittin here, for they were just startin a man to bring it over when I got there." Henrietta took the letter eagerly, for her fath- er's peculiar manner towards her, joined to what the man had said of the letter, had awakened a strange terror in her breast-a fear of something dreadful coming-what, she could not have told. A glance at the superscription told her it was from her parent's partner, and in one corner the "please deliver with haste," explained what the servant had told her of a messenger about be- ing despatched with the letter when he arrived. A moment she was hesitating whether she should deliver the missive to her father in his present mood, when his hand was laid upon her arm. "What are you looking at, child-why are you standing here ? is the letter for you or me ? " "For you, father ; it is for you, but don't look in that way at me !" " Give the letter here, and be quiet, girl; what possesses you to torment me in this way ; go l . '#4 j d t i g7 i f t if page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. away; leave me to myself; I don't wish you ter; yes, it may be her child; twenty years-more here!" than twenty years-it must be so!' Then turn- Often enough had he spoken to his child in this ing to Henrietta, from whom he had in his solil- way, and one might have thought she must be oquy turned away, he said, hardened to it, but she was not-although, after "Child, is your father here ? I know he is kindness would heal the wound, still such words here-and I must see him!" always wounded her; but hers was not a timid He spoke quietly, and his voice had a pleasing or unforgiving nature, and those two nearly al- effect upon his companion, for it was gentle and ways go together-so with the remembrance of a musical. wrong received, she would not shrink from after reconciliation, if his occasional kind words could be counted worthy of so dignified a name. company now. Whatever your business is, you beunter wrthysof ohin e ane. b will have to wait for a time, for he is not well, and But there was nothing to be gained by dis- can't be disturbed!" obedience, with a nature like his, and, without cantdsu re"e another word of remonstrance, she turned into Henrietta spoke respectfully, but with deter- her own little sitting room to wait for him-not mination. The look with which the stranger re- that she expected to ever hear of the contents of garded her, was almost sad, and he murmured this letter, only so far as she could guess at it by aloud, the influence it should exert over his actions, but "Like, very like-yet more fitted for the world, she knew the present mood would not be of very not to be crushed by a single blow !" And then to long duration. the girl he said: "I have little time to lose wait- A half an hour she might have been siting ing_; I have come a long, long way, when soul here, when the sound of the gate shutting made and body could scarce hang together, and all for her look up. Such a strange skeleton frame was one interview with your father ; but do not think, making his way towards the house! His gray girl, it was for any love I bore him, or that t is beard and lank gray locks were hanging down from any kindly feeling towards him that I shall over his shoulders and bosom, 'rendering his face now speak! Yet a sight of your young face, so more ghastly in its pallor, and his clothes set as full of high-souled truth, whispers me of the years they might have done upon a skeleton, so flesh- long since passed-of one that I knew when I less seemed the limbs around which they hung.- was not as now. I had not thought to tell you His face and whole appearance might have this, for I had not believed my heart capable of a awakened an unnatural terror in many breasts, kindly feeling towards any one, and certainly not but Henrietta felt only commiseration, and as towards your father's child! But humanity is in- the miserable object approached the porch in explicable-at one moment demoniac in its de- front of her window, she hurried out to hear sires; the next-why, we can hardly say-by what he might wish, for shehad no other thought what influence-angelic in its goodness; -you look than that he was an asker of alms. at me doubtingly, but I am not mad-ah! no, I When Henrietta appeared at the door, this am not mad! my mind has not been so clear in strange being stopped suddenly, looking at her as years; no, not in long years; your face has though she had sprung up in an unnatural way be- brought back my youth in mind, and something of fore him, and his stare so full of astonishment, my old heart. Give me a seat, my dear young la- and unmixed with terror, held the girl for the dy, and I will tell you a story which you may nev- moment spell bound-for there was something, or have heard-a 9tory which can't fail to interest- she could not have told what, to make one trem- you." ble in that wild being-a look almost, she said to His voice had grown soft, and his companion herselfr that he was in league with the' evil one- thought rather tremulous, as he went on speak- was wholly abandoned to his evil passions.- ing. , She had no hesitation in complying with Suddenly he seemed to arouse himself, murmur- his request, but quickly drawing an easy chair ing half aloud, out upon the porch, she saw him comfortably " Fool! is this the face of a wronged and seated in it, and then sat down herself near him; ruined woman? No, I'm not to be foiled now. but no word had she spoken, for something in his I'm not to lose what I have labored so hard to manner made her tremble with eager fear, for gain.-labored against death to gain it!" .she felt he knew more of her and hers- than he He passed his hand over his brow in a way cx- had yet told, and there was no thought of its pressive of doubt or indecision, and then his lace being wrong to listen to what he might have to lighted as if with a new thought. " Her daugh- say. THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. "You are ready now to hear my little story?" he said, in a questioning tone. " Yes, I am waiting ; only before you begin, tell me, is it true-all true that you would tell me?" "Every word, child of Henry Farnham. Be-j 91 lieved I possessed the treasure which had been wrested from me? I might have found it very hard, but I could have grown reconciled, or at least forgiving. But when I saw her, in all her purity and beauty a wreck-aye, worse than that; a thing to be spurned by the foot of him who had fore God, I declare every word is as true as Ilis robbed me-can you wonder that the man within holy book! and it is more than twenty years nme became a devil almost too dark for hell itself? since I have called my Maker to witness any of my But I was very calm-calmer then than I am words or actions. But I must not linger in my now! The remembrance, even after so many work; I have no time to lose, nor do I, to begin, years, drives me almost mad !". ask you to look with forgiveness upon my past The voice of the speaker became stifled by his life. I have not forgiven wrongs which have been emotion-his breath came thick, and the veins in done to me and mine, how can I look to having his forehead, before sunken, were now swollen my fellow beings-forgive me! I do not-no, no, and corded. Henrietta's first thought was for I do not ask it! something to restore him, for to have bim fail 'Twenty-five years ago I was a young, strong, now, with his story but half told-the thought happy man, respected by the World and respect- nearly distracted her! She brought a glass of ed by myself. Happy in my health and strength water, which he swallowed with eagerness, and and prosperity, and peacefully happy in the love- then, heaving a deep breath, he said: of one I considered little less than an angel in 'It was almost too much-it is long since 1 'purity and goodness. She had promised to be have recalled it so vividly, but I thought myself my own, to honor me by taking my name, to be- stronger. This is the hardest part for in--yes, come the angel of my home! That home I set the hardest part !" about preparing for receiving my heart's idol-my He spoke as if to himself, and then his head household god! Six months I was away, and then half reclined upon his hands, and his chin rested all was ready, and even now I remember with upon his bosom. Henrietta waited for hin to go what pride I surveyed one little room which I on, but when he showed no signs of speaking, but had adorned as perfectly as money and good taste only seemed wholly absorbed in his own thoughts, would enable me to, and with half-closed eyes I she ventured to inquire. sat there at twilight and in a waking dream saw "And she you had loved-was there none to her slender form reclining upon the delicate rose pity or shelter her from the scorn of him w% ho colored couch which I considered sacred to her. had so barely crushed her-from the world which That was a delicious hour, and I love to recall it; has no pity." with all the love which filled my soul. The eyei of the old man beamed upon his con- "My vision extended much further than this- panion with something nearly akin to tender- I heard tiny feet pattering around the room, I saw ness. baby forms with hair as sunny as those tresses "You have a heart which can pity the weak which swept the cheeks and bosom of my heart's and erring; my better nature told ie so, amid I treasure-and much more tham was in my lover's bless you for it; if my prayers could be heard, dream, of which I will not speak. Had I then how earnestly would I plead with Heaven to been told that all must perish in the imagination, shield you from sorrow or wrong-buit they do in my pride, I would have cursed the informer not rise-I have too long forgotten my Maker, for a false and evil prophet-for my love was per- and will not insult Ilimi by offering th is miera de fect, and there could be no fear or distrust in my' remnant of may life in service, when so anity heart! years have been sinfully wasted. You ask mie "One month from that time, child, I, who'had what became of her ? was there none to pity.- prided myself upon my 'manhood-upon my up- Aye*! child, there was a God in Heaven who pitied rightness of character, had become a very fiend her, pnd prevented the love in may heart being in heart! She whom I had set my very soul up- turned to bitterness towards her! Shte wts on had played me worse than false! iMad I come sheltered and cared for by those whot were kind back to find her the honored and loved wife of for gold's sake, and then when her hour of trial another, I think I could have borne it-I came, and she learned that it was to be the think I might have forgiven her after a time; closing up of life with all its sliame and grit f, I and he who had won her-who should know how listened to her prayer-I took my place by her to forgive him better than I, who had once be- bedside, I spoke in her listening ear tender words IT page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] 92 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. of forgiveness, and it was my hand which wiped the death-damp from her brow, and at last closed her sweet eyes ; and when I saw her stretched to her rest, with the head of her dead infant pil- lowed upon her bosom, I murmured as I pressed one last kiss upon her pale cold lips, 'thank Godc she is at peace!'" . . j Henrietta had sat with lips parted, and as her I head was bent forward her young face bore theP very impress of agony-but as these last few words were spoken every feature relaxed, and giving a heavy sob she murmured involuntarily as it seemed, "thank God !" and her face was bu- ried in her hands. Her companion started at the sound of her! voice, and quickly he caught the meaning of her emotion. "Hah poor child! your heart shrunk from the thought, that she was your mother ! I did not think of that, poor little trembler ! No, she and all that belonged to her was laid in the grave, and I lived to avenge their wrongs ! The wretch who had done all this evil moved proudly among his fellow-men and all smiled upon him. He had wealth, talent and education-these won him the place which should only be given to one possess- ing a heart of virtue. But I held my peace. I resolved to bide my time, for I knew it would come. He was courted by the world and ere long, I said to myself, would come the time when he would choose for himself one dearer than all others. I was right, and not very long had I to wait. "But Heaven is my witness, that, wholly lost as my heart was, I felt something like regret when I saw what a fair and noble being must be crush- ed to accomplish my end ; but the remembrance of my ruined hopes so overcame everything in my soul but a desire for revenge, and from that moment I never wavered. But I would not ap- proach one so high-souled and noble,to leave her a crushed and ruined thing. Could I have done it, I would not! Besides, I knew the man with whom I had to deal too well to take a mis-step in the doing of my work. Self was his idol; had I left that untouched, I felt he would but laugh at me. "I had forced him to consider me a friend, and he dreamed not that I knew him as the -lighter of my joy, and at his bridal none smiled more brightly than did I, or spoke their congratula- tions in tones more expressive of friendship; and well might any man be proudly happy-as he was--with such a noble woman loving and trust- ing him so entirely as did his bride. "I did not feel in haste about my work, but day after day I was a welcome guest in their house, and fairly glutted over the destruction I would, work them. With not only the husband, but with his bride too, I learned to feel myself a favorite, visitor, and, had he not been so confident of his own power, I think he might sometime have been ealous of the attention given me by his wife, for his love was not so perfect as to preclude the pos- sibility of such athing, granting, as I must, there was no cause. "A year of their wedded life passed without any jars that the world knew of-though some- times I saw a cloud upon the fine brow of my friend's wife, that I was sure he had had some hand in placing there; but it appeared to me al- ways more a cloud of proud sorrow than of an- ger, and that promised well for me ! Then there came a new joy into the house, in the shape of an infant son-and the father was as proud in his happiness as I could wish to see him-for the prouder he was, the more perfect would be his wretchedness I know ! " Their boy they named for me, and I gave it many a caress and tender word-after sporting with the fine little fellow to the delight of both the parents-then I went away from there ; I had an indefinite idea why, yet I would not now explain it, for another who did not know both the characters with which I had to deal, could not understand it. More than a year I traveled, and in all that time I was in constant correspond- ence with both my friend and his wife, and then there came a letter which told me of another lit- tle link added to the household chain-a lovely daughter-and the father's heart rejoiced as so did the mother's, that this little stranger was like its father, much more than was the son. The same dark eyes, the mother wrote me, that we must both of us understand--and the hair was mote like his than like hers. Poor confiding noble heart, she little knew what a villain I was, nor how poorly I was about to repay her confi- dence! ,But now I felt was my time and I im- proved it, as the desolation which followed was quite sufficient to prove. " By anonymous letters I warned the man in a mysterious way of somedanger which was threat- ening his home; I spoke of his best friend, or he who appeared to be so, being his bitterest enemy: I spoke of his first born, his idolized son: asked him whose name he bore-whose likeness was stamped upon his baby features? for, before I left my friend's house, the child's resemblance to me had often been spoken of. All this could not fail to have some influence upon the man, as THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 93 - I I I I 1 1 I learned from his letters to me. He made an ef- her infidelity, or one so proud and fond as her fort to write with the same confidence, but I was husband had ever been of her, could never have upon the watch and not to be deceived by any been led to resign her-to cast her, with her eld- pretence; yet I kept fanning the flame, taking est child, so entirely off. The husband had dis- good care to mail the letters, to excite suspicions, posed of his home, and with his child, removed at some point very far distant from my real stop- North. ping place, and they were ingeniously got up. "But a few days after, his wife had left the Now I wonder at it, how I carried the work on house of the brother, where now, that sorrow had as I did; but my whole life was in it; I would have come to her, she was no welcome visitor, and died sooner than not succeed. neither she nor her child-her darling boy- " At last I wrotega letter to my friend's wife, had been heard of since." which she could not understand, but which I felt "Poor thing! I did feel the deepest compas- almost sure she would not show her husband, for sion for her; but then I said to myself the inno- she was very proud, and he was not always cent muot suffer that the guilty may be punished, gentle towards her. I was right. She put it and this is but sorrow-no shame, like my poor away, thinking, I doubt not, that when I should Ellen's! Yes, I thought I had acted in a most return I would be able to explain all. I was her generous manner. husband's friend, remember-most wives would "I traced the wanderings of the poor mother have done the same. This one private letter did with her boy; I found she had dropped her hus- the work. The husband's jealousy was aroused band's name and taken that which she had borne before, and now he waited for no second thought! before she know him, and had given to her boy, One more anonymous letter, hinting of a private my namesake, the one she had been called by in correspondence between his wife and myself, led her happy girlhood. This had been done partly to questionings, which could not fail to distress from pride, and partly that she might be near her and confuse her somewhat; and then followed infant daughter without so much danger of dis- bitter accusations, which her pride and anger- covery by him who would flee from her if he that so natural to a true wife and woman, forbade thought her near. her answering even by denial! " This was all I wished to know. I now felt "What their last interview was, I scarcely that I was done with mankind, and for imore than know-but the end of it was, the wife, innocent five years I wandered in the wilds of the West; of a thought dishonorable to her husband or her- but at last the haunting remembrance of this self, with her first-born, which the enraged man woman brought me back. For a long time I now disowned, were thrus into the street! The sought for her in vain; but at last a lone deso- infant he kept for himself; that he knew must late creature told me she was dead! She could belong to him; and with it he left the city which not give me the particulars of her death, for it had long been his home! But before he left he had happened when she had been absent a few wrote me of'all that had passed, told me of the days acting as nurse to a sick lady, nor did she letters he had received, of warning which had know where the motherless boy had gone! This led to his detecting my villainy, aknd ended by a last gave the old creature great uneasiness, for prayer that all the curses of Heaven nd Hell be she had a package which had been placed in her visited upon me and mine. hands by the mother, who was in very feeble "Oh! I fairly hugged that letter-I felt the full health, which she wished preserved for her boy delight of revenge! To write him was my first in case she died. At last she had gone very sud- act-I made no pretence of denying the justice denly, and in her absence; and the boy had never of what he had done, but to make him more cer- been seen since he rode away in the draymain's tain that he had been betrayed-and I believe he cart, sitting upon his mother's coffin, which was had no shadow of doubt in the matter-I asked taken to the Potter's Field! him if he remembered Ellen Gray. I told him "I told the woman I would seek for the boy, that she had been to me all that his wife had been and as there seemed a much better chance of my to him, and, if his heart was now made as desolate finding him than of her, she gave me the package as mine had been for the last four years-as utter- to deliver to him in case I was successful. But, ly hopeless, I was content. after a year's search, I gave up the matter as "I went back to my home, to hear strange nearly hopeless, and since I could hear nothing whispers of these two, yet no one seemed to of the wretched man, who had made me a crimi- know where had been the difficulty; but nearly all nal as bad as himself, I returned to the life of a concluded the wife must have been dreadful mi wanderer, which continued till three months - . - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ".e.-. . . .. -te r I 1 page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] 94 THE MOTHERLESS BAIRN. ago, when a paper five years old chanced to fall standing at his side, her hand resting in his, so into my hands, and I read of this namesake of skeleton like. When he made this last appeal mine being found guilty of a crime, which, but to her, she caught her breath as in a deep sob, for the interposition of friends, must have been and, throwing herself into her seat again, she atoned for by long years of labor in the State's buried her face in the folds of her dress, and I I- - TIlE MITHERLESS BAIRN. er, my darling brother, his right ; bring him home, and hear him speak with his own lips his forgive- ness for the wrongs of the past, that your last days may be your best days; and then, any own father, you shall have no chance to complain, that your child-your Hettie, has lost aught of her affec- tion for you'" She spake tenderly, but with a woman's firm- ness-one who has an object to accomplish, for which her life would not be too great a sacri- fice, could it not be gained without. Her poor old father sat meekly bowed down, listening as one he felt deserved no mercy; but he made no answer to what his child had said. "Father," she went on, "may he come in- may this strange man come in, and show to you that which shall prove beyond a doubt, the truth of what he has said ; may he come now, father- without a moment's delay? for you know it must be done, and the sooner it is passed the better it will be for you !" The cowering form shrunk down lower at this appeal, but there was no escape ; and in a 95 You have had a strong hand in our sorrow. I claim it as a right-as one of the sufferers-as a child of her you so deeply wronged-that you take not away the little power my father has left, for repairing this great wrong of restoring my brother to his right!" Henrietta spoke with the spirit of a high-souled woman. "You are a brave girl!'" the old man said, ris- ing from his chair; "you shall control me in this, thohgh I would not have believed the earth con- tained the being who could influence me as you have. I will be gentle with an mortal en(Wy 1(f- your sake, and you shall promise me that you will sometimes think of me with kindness, when I have gone to my rest!" The old man spoke with feeling, and the grate- ful look which his companion gave him, would have been a sufficient answer, but she had a better. "I thank you for this, and if my brother ever returns to us, I promise you, our thoughts--not only mine but his-when they turn to you, shall not be such as can take from the peacefulness of prison; and who do you think was his chief ac- cuser ? I tell you, child, it was his own father'1 And he knew he was raising his voice against the child of her he had promised to love, cherish andk protect! Do you remember this case, young lady, the case of Wilson Harley? in which your father and ims stood up against him for whom strangers' hearts were melted with pity ?" Henrietta's attention had been chained through this whole relation, and she looked as one pre- pared for a startling announcement ; but, what- ever she had expected, this inquiry of the strange narrator brought her suddenly to her feet. " His father and mine ! Wilson Harley's father and mine ! Are you mad, sir, or do you know what you are saying ?" She asked this in a scarcely audible voice, and her hand which had been laid upon the old man's shoulder, held him in a vice-like grasp. He took hold of her hand in a tender, pitying way. , " Be calm, child-I have not spoken as one mad , I have not told this story as though it had been originated in my brain; I wonder that I could speak as calmly as I have, for I came here with but one desire-to complete my revenge ! I knew my days were numbered, and night and day I have traveled, that I should not be too late; but a sight of your face softened my heart; I re- membered your mother and the wrong I had done her, and the longings which I had felt to see your father writhe with his agony of sdul, when he should hear that his wife was as innocent of that of which he accused her, as were you, then his infant daughter, gave way before other thoughts and emotions. Iam a different man from what I have been since this shadow fell upon me-since that dreadful blighting of my hopes. I could al- most give up this interview with your father, but now I am influenced by a higher motive than re- venge ! Justice now compels me to see him, to tell him all that I have told you, to deliver the proofs into his hands, that he may know that I, and I only wrote those letters which first led him to doubt-and then to cast off his wife forever ! "This more than revenge now actuates me- and when I have done this, I shall feel that my work upon this earth is completed ! Now, do you doubt my speaking in my sober senses 7" This he asked of his companion in a quiet tone which he knew so well how to command-and it had a soothing influence over her. She was still "My mother ! my poor darling mother !-so no- ble, yet so deeply wronged," burst from her lips. "Yes, deeply wronged-and so was another who still lives to forgive the sins which have been committed against him. When I started upon this mission, which was not one of love, I thought this other-this brother youi have never known-- guilty of a crime which must ever render him an outcast from society; but before .1 came here I learned this was but another cruel wrong he had suffered by the injustice of his fellow-men. Now take me to your father, child, that I may put it in his power to retrieve the past, to a very small extent.' Thus called upon, the girl arose to comply, but in spite of herself she shrunk from the task be- fore her. 'Tis true she had sometimes felt there must have been a dark page in the life of her father, but never had it influenced her in her be- havior towards him, or slackened her in the most implicit obedience; and now she inwardly shrunk from seeing him humbled, though, as this strange being who had been her companion for the last hour had said, she knew and felt it was justice- a debt her father owed to his child, his first-born, who had suffered too deeply for his sins. With her mind full of these thoughts, she turn- ed into the house, and the first sight which met her eyes brought from her an exclamation of alarm. There sat her poor old father, leaning helplessly against the window seat, concealed from view from the porch by the wavy muslin drapery. His eyes were not closed, yet he seemed unconscious of the entrance of his daugh- ter, for there was no movement of limb or muscle. But when she went to his side and took his cold hand, calling upon him- "Father, dear father ! " He raised his eyes to her face with such an ap- pealing expression, and his voice might have awakened sympathy in a less pitying heart as he said, "After that, Hettie, after hearing all that you have justlistened to, can you call me dearfather ?" She laid her arms about the trembling form, much as she might have laid them around a very sinful, but penitent child. " You are my father, and what there has been in the past to grieve over, a child should not al- low to come between her parent and herself, Only do what remains to be done; restore to my broth- broken voice ne answered, your rest." " Do as you think right, child-I might as well be crushed at once! I deserve nothing better! I deserve no mercy." CHAPTER XV. "Hush! father, you should not speak in this way! think what he has borne, and yet, father, he has been innocent! Should you murmur at this "What is the hour, IHettie, my child-is if nt even if it be very trying ?" time that the messenger should return frm Mr. " I deserve it-oh ! yes, I deserve it, or my Phelps'?" child, my Hettie, would not forget her tender- "No, father, we c'uld not expect him yet; we ness, to chide me-to reproach me! yes, yes let must be patient; you know it is 'more than two him come. I can but die, and that will be better hundred miles, and it's little more than a d ay than to live entirely unloved!" since he started. Can we hardly hope to see him, The daughter felt two strong loves drawing before to-morrow at this tinie ?" upon her heart and in opposite directions, but "Another day's waiting ! I shall go mad, child. justice whispered that for this once the daugh- If I was to die without seeing-without ev en ter should give way to the sister, and, as nothing hearingfrom the poor boy! Hettie, Hettie, how was to be gained by an attempt to persuade, she am I to bear this suspense-how am I to endure felt it better to hurry over the meeting of two this waiting!" men who had neither of them been strangers to For a moment the sick man was silent, but th sin-that it would be a trying scene she fully un- convulive working of his features, and the fin derstood,'but the sooner it was past the better clasp in which he held a portion (if the bed it would be for both, for it was evident that nei- clothes, told how hard he found it to endure the other one had much strength to spare. Leaving struggle which was going on in his mind; then her father, she went out upon the porch. once more turning his eyes upon his faithful, "Come now, sir-but ah! for my sake, be as pitying daughter, he asked: gentle as possible towards him; he is very fee- ' "How is he, Uettie? how is Wilson Danforthi? ble, and you who have not been a stranger to sin, does he suffer the tortures of remorse too, after should not be severe !' A moment he regarded such a long life of evil working ?" her. This, Mr. Farnham asked of his child, in a S"I did not ask for consideration, child-I'm no voice in which humility and bitterness x eire puler, but will meet my punishment like a man !" strangely mingled. Henrietta felt a pang shoot "But you have helped to wrong us, sir.- through her heart, as she thought how more than 1 i page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. i i I, I THE MITJIERLESS BAIRN. 97 equal had been her father's share in this evil do- s ing, but she answered tenderly, . " He is very feeble, dear father, and I can't in- duce him to try the smallest thing as a restora-d tive ! He says his work is done, and the sooner he is done with life the better for him and for the world-yet he is very gentle-like child almost, in his way of receiving any little attention !" The last part of the girl's remark was un- heeded by the father, and his answer showed how cold and hard was his spirit even in this hour of his humility. "He is right ; he has done a demon's work ; he has rooted the last vestige of good from my heart-he has robbed- me of the noblest woman that ever breathed, made my son fatherless, my daughter motherless, my life that of a cold-heart- ed wanderer. Let him die uncared for, neglect- ed ; let him die the death of a dog, as he should ! My child, let him perish, soul and body, unpitied, uncared for !" "Father, father, how can you speak so-don't you remember ? Is it not true that he, too, has suffered wrong-and, oh ! forgive me for saying it, but I must; I feel it is right-at your hands, too 7" "Child, how dare you, how dare you speak to me in this way '" was the sick man's fierce answer, half raising himself in the bed, and fix- ing so firm a grasp upon his child's arm as made her shrink, in spite of herself, with the pain which he gave her. For an instant his eyes gleamed upon her, then seeming to recollect him- self, he sank back cowering upon the pillow. "Ah yes," he said helplessly, "I must bear it,- must take insult from my child! I have not thought it could ever be. I must submit to be- ing neglected as she may choose for this villain- my worst enemy ! I might have known it would be no better! -What right had I to expect aught else of human love ?" Had not his inmost soul become hardened by the great sin which had borne it along, until it seemed beyond the reach of a noble, manly peni- tence, it would have echoed in condemning tones, "what right?" but his was the humility of a cow- ard. He wished to see his son reinstated-see him occupying the position which belonged to him, because he was his son-because now the world woula, in spite of his desire to the contra- ry, hear of all the wrong which the boy had suf- fered at his own father's hands; so he would pa- cify the world by doing what seemed to him amost magnanimous act ! But in his humility there was no meekness, no remembrance within penitent Ii i ------r"----- __________. 11 r -- - .... .: i orrow of the young, fair, but too weak being he had won from an honorable love, to cast her off a a ruined, hopeless heart-to die-but for the en- during fondness of him who had lavished upon her he wealth of his soul-alone and friendless! No thought of her years (f struggling with the hard world; the woman, who had the right to look to him as her friend and protector, when all others should fail; no heart grievings as he remembered his poor boy, a homeless, friendless, wanderer as he had been on the Christmas morning, more than fifteen years agone, When he had thrust him unfeelingly from his door, to wander to the grave where slept his wronged mother, at last safe from all sorrow, where he must have died but for the more faithful affection of the noble dog, who, after more than five years' separation, re- coguized his young.master and refused to be sep- arated from him again! No, although these last were remembered, they were not remembered with self-condemnation, with a sorrow which gives promise of better things, but with a cower- ing humility, with a bitterness of soul towards his less guilty sharer in this life-work of evil- an inward cursing of himself for his stupidity in thus being duped out of all the good life might have contained for him, in coming at last to that miserable state, that he must be an object of compassion to his bitterest foe! Poor Henrietta! this was not the least trying part of her grief, to watch over her own father; to see him still the cold man he had ever been, and yet so weak as he had become mentally and physically! She felt that she could almost have rejoiced in his childish, dependence, had it been accompanied by any thing like childish sorrow or humility; but to see him thus, but for the one thought-he. was her father-she must have shrunk from him with loathing! Then her. poor another! often she had said "willingly would I submit to a life of drudgery- of toil of the meanest kind, but to be certain that no shame attached itself to that name !" Now she'was certain! This wild being's strange story had borne upon its face the very impress of truth, but he did not ask them to trust to that! The greasy discolored knapsack-the only thing he had brought with him upon his long journey, contained proofs which no one could for a mo- ment dispute ! , The original of the letters Mr. Farnham had received, with erasures and altera- tions, proved him beyond a doubt the writer of those anonymous epistles, which had at first aroused the demon suspicion in the husband's breast ! This must have been enough to satisfy any one that the wife had been wholly innocent i of every thing which had been laid to her charge, and for which she and her first born had been cruelly cast off! Then the small package which had been left with the poor woman-the most timely friend the mother had had near her-to be preserved for her poor boy when he should be motherless, contain- ed her marriage certificate; all! aye, her only earthly possession ! That she felt it would be to him a treasure in after years, proving to him who were his parents! A letter accompanied it, addressed to the boy, her darling Willie, telling him of all she had suf- fered, and of her entire innocence and utter ig- norance of all of which she had been accused ; but what was more convincing of her innocence than all the rest, was her firm faith in her boy be- lieving her so ! All had been written in great sor- sow, but there had been mingled with it no doubt as to this one thing ; her boy who knew her so well-knew her better than had ever any other earthly being-his heart would tell him how deeply she had been wronged ! Poor thing! when-she was penning that stain- ed and blotted epistle, her nearly powerless hands, scarcely able to make the words legible, she had little thought her daughter, then hardly more than an infant, would weep over it bitter tears of pity, regret and deep affection ! That to her woman's heart it would speak of her mother as noble and worthy of all the fondness her chil- dren could give her; that to one who had never known her, save in her days of unconscious infan- cy, it would carry proof as conclusive of her in- nocence, as would it to her boy who loved her as very few children are capable of .loving, as very few mothers deserve to be loved ! The thought of her mother, as she now had a right to think of her was to the daughter a great joy, but it was a joy mingled with deep grief!- With the certainty of her mother's purity-the mother she had never known, there came another certainty-that of her father's cruelty, guilt. The only being she had ever known to love, she now regarded--as how could she help doing- as deserving nothing better than a shunning pity-but, no,she would not unteach her heart its affection-it could do her other parent no good, and she believed, was that other one able to speak, she would bid her be true and faithful in all her duties as daughter. Then there arose in her mind the picture of the motherless one who had sought shelter from the bitter coldness of the winter's night upon the porch of her father's mansion-their father's she could now say--the sweet sad-faced Wilson Harley ! Nor did this picture, with all the re- membrances which must accompany it, do much towards comforting her heart as to the part her father had acted ! He had recognized in this desolate boy, the child of her who-even grant- ing her guilt-he had so wrongfully cast off upon the cold unpitying world, homeless, helpless, and if sinful, with no encouragement to mend her ways ! He had once loved her, and yet he could spurn her poor starving boy from his door with hard unmanly words ! But Providence had not been forgetful of those forgotten by man ! The instinct of the noble dog, who had been the boy's protector and constant companion in his early infancy, had enabled the animal to recognise the poor child, in spite of change; yet Henrietta was ignorant of the noble Neptune's activity and more than animal instinct, in caring for his charge, and saving him from the death which had ap- proached so nearly. In truth she knew very little of what had been her brother's life since, save the fact connected with his disgrace, for much as she had desired to meet some of the McDonald family, or Mrs. Phelps, that she might learn something more of one who had so much interested her when a child, her father had ever prevented her seeing them.- Now she knew it had been by design. These thoughts all had a place in her mind, pro- ducing strangely conflicting emotions, but, fortu- nately perhaps it might be counted, she was not left to indulge them undisturbed. Here were two old men hardened in sin, now, after long lives which had contained very little of good, reduced to childish dependence, and she must act as their sole nurse. Her father required from her the closest atten- tion, as he had ever required and received the most implicit obedience, and with Henrietta there was no thought but to answer his every call as nearly as she could, and in so doing neglect no other duty; the other-that wretched, desolate man, who had traveled over hundreds of miles to remove the stain which had for years rested upon that unknown mother's name--no matter what had been his motive--he had done them a great good; had repaired as nearly as lay in his power the sins of a life-time; now that all his life pow- er seemed exhausted, was he to be left uncared for, unattended? No ! not while such ready hands as Henrietta Farnham was near, and ac- tuated by such a true woman's heart as she pos- sessed! Her father would have had the fainting travel- er thrust from the door, even in the hour of his cowering humiliation, and when towards him had -11 page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] rI THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. family. Soabetween the two invalids Henrietta found herself so well occupied, there was small time left for idle thought, and the three days which passed between the arrival of Wilson Danforth and the return of the messenger which had been dis- patched to Mr. Phelps, to beg of him to lose no unnecessary time in coming to his partner, Mr. Farnham, who was too feeble to leave his bed- passed much more quickly to her than either of the sick ones. But the sense of relief which she felt when she saw the messenger spring out of the carriage at their cottage gate, followed quickly byI the kind, ever ready Mr. Phelps, was no less than would it have been had she watched the way from which the travelers were expected, and counted the minutes with the greatest impatience. Way down in her heart there was a restless aching to have some one at work to bring about the return of her brother while her father was still living, and if possible, while that other flick- ering life should continue to burn. Had it been possible she felt she should herself have started upon the mission, butthen there would have been none to guard and care for her sick, and she re- solved to perform faithfully the woman's part for which she proved herself eminently fitted, and leave the other to the one Providence should ac- tuate to embark in it; and now when she caught To Henrietta, this was not a small trial, yet she faced it bravely, withholding but one thing- that was the nature of the wrong her father had done Wilson 'Danforth ! She told him it had been grievous-she said that, with such a nature, no one could have expected any less from him in the way of revenge--that his nature was too strong to deal with petty good or petty evil-and she ended by saying: " Father is very bitter towards him, and I don't know as we could expect anything else. You know he has been ill for a long time, but by his strength of will has resisted disease; but this has broken him completely-he has not been able to leave his bed since we heard of it, and some- times I fear his agitation may hasten his end--yet I cannot turn this poor man from our house. Mr.- Phelps I cannot forget, that but for my father he might-I believe he would-have been so differ- ent ! Tell me, am I acting right?" "You are, my child--you are acting with a noble justice; I should be proud to know that my own daughter would under like circumstances prove herself so unselfish-though God forbid she should ever be put to the test !" This last was said with much warmth, and ap- parently as though the speaker was scarcely con- scious of speaking it out-but that it was with \\ 98 I been shown far more of kindness than he had sight of the benevolent face of her father's part- any right to expect, he would gladly have seen ner, in her inmost soul she thanked Heaven that his partner in evil doing cast out to suffer and they had not been left alone in their extremity. die of neglect, want and starvation-but misera- - Henrietta had not dreamed of the possibility of ble, pitiless tyrant that he had become, none Mr. Phelps coming with the messenger-punctu- chose to obey his commands, and he was too al as he ever was in his business transactions- weak to enforce them. she had counted upon a delay of a day or two, at Wilson Danforth was placed in Henrietta's least, hoping only that their messenger would own room, and what care he required was given bring them tidings when they might expect him, him by Henrietta herself. But it was very little if he found it possible - to leave home at all; so he wished to have done for him-much less than she was quite undecided how she was to act, he was compelled to submit to and receive of whether it would be better to tell a part of their this girl's attention. However, in one thing he strange story to their visitor, before she took was resolute-not a grain of medicine would he him to her father, and so save the latter the ex- swallow, though his nurse begged'and entreated citement of listening and talking more than ne- of him to take just the simplest thing which she cessary, or whether she should leave it to her had prepared for him. He said it would do no parent to reveal and withhold as he chose ! A good, and even did he know it would, it would be moment only was given her to decide, and her no temptation to yield to her, for he did not wish sense of justice as well as her prudence, inclined to be benefitted-he had no desire to live, Tor her to the former, for this was not the time she should any one else seek to prolong an existence felt to be biased or influenced by petty scruples, which could be of no use to himself or any one and, daughter though she was, she could not be in the world. Yet that.this noble girl's attention blind to the fact,, that love of self was still the gave him satisfaction very nearly allied to peace ruling principle with her father, and she feared was very evident, and his gentleness and real hu- that, without his meaning it, this would have a mility almost forced her to forget the part he had certain influence over his account of the whole acted in the sorrows and misfortunes of her affair. 11 .r r -- ..ter THE MITHERLE him an earnest thought ! Then an instant after he added : "Come, my child, now take we to your father, for there is no time to be lost I would have you remain with us, if he is inclined to cloak himself in the matter, your presence--knowing every thing as you do-will be a check upon him, and he can't so well shrink from performing his part, before you, his child, as could he before all the rest of the world ! I want you should be pre- pared, though, to see him struggle against duty, for he will-but he must be humbled-must be !- there is no help for it ! Humbled to the very dust--I know it will seem to him." Much as Henrietta felt for her father, it was a real comfort to her to hear Mr. Phelps speak in this earnest, forcible manner---it showed that he appreciated the importance of the case, and that she might look to him for assistance in forcing her father to act with justice---for she saw he must be forced---that he would, if per- mitted, shift the blame, as far as was it possible, to the shoulders of the man whose hopes, whose life, whose very .soul had been blighted by his own evil doings; and this daughter had felt how hard it would be for her, unaided, to prevent this and still have anything like justice meted out to her noble brother and her dead mother! But now, with Mr. Phelps to help her, earnest and strong as he was, and devotedly attached as she knew him to be to her brother, the woman was strong in her heart--'she felt she could stand firm- ly for the right against her father's threats---- against even his entreaties. Mr. Phelps could not fail to be startled at what he had heard, although he had cotne prepared for a surprise, and in imagination had conjured up all manner of things, yet the reality was yery differ- ent from any thing he could have fancied. This wild unnatural stranger had come to him for in- formation as to where Mr. Farnham was to be found, but supposing the poor fellow more than half crazed, he did not think it best to enlighten him, yet his manner had been so peculiar he had attached importance enough to the occurrence to give his partner a very minute account of it in a letter, which letter Mr. Farnham had received the very day, and not an hour before the arrival of Wilson Danforth beneath his own roof. When the message to come to Mr. Farnham without an hour's unnecessary delay reached Mr. Phelps, his mind immediately reverted to that wild being, and he thought of some old business mat- ters being called up to trouble and perplex his not over-amiable and forbearing partner. Some- times the idea had crossed his mind that this f' _% i SS BAIRN, . 99 man's dealings might not always have been up- right, he seemed always so suspicious of others but nothingworse than this (lid he suspect. Yet so well did 'he master himself, when he en- tered Mr. Farnham's room, the latter might have believed he had been told nothing which he had not known a lifetime. The invalid answered his visitor's inquiries as to his health, by bitter comi- plaints, which would have told any one not ac- quainted with the sad history, that he had been by far more sinned against than sinning--that he had been the chief suflfrer, and now in spite of all his commiands to the contrary, his worst ene- my-the destroyer of his happiness-hadfound a hospitable shelter beneath his roof. Mr. Phelps listened with great caution, that not by ia look should he betray his knowledge of the affair. "Your daughter has toll me something of this, but she says then maan is too feeble to leave his bed ! You, Mr. Farnham, who are not over strong, ought to feel common pity for the miserable fellow, even it he is a villain. Besides this don't seem the matter of first importance to be considered now-and that too should teach you to be a little leas severely just, andi a little more merciful towards the erring, for you can't have forgotten the time when I plead with you to deal gently with this son of yours who was accused of a crime of, which I believe him as innocent as was I myself, and the sequel proved him more so, for I can't help feeling that I was partially responsible for iiy son's dissipated recklessness ! Yet you remimniber, you turned a deaf ear to all I had to say, pretending you felt it would be injustice to the boy not to punish him as such a crime merited. Well, you had your way, and we have seen the consequence partially! May heaven grant that we see nothing more serious than we have already-that before a, much longer time passes, the wanderer may be broughtlback to us; and, Mr. Farnham, don't you think we should endeavour that this lesson be not lost upon us-that it teach us ,o lean even weakly, if you choose so to call it-to the side of mercy, rather than execute too severe justice 1" Mr. Phelps spoke in a reproving tone, and the invalid listened as one not at all comfortable. His answer was that of an overbearing spirit be- reft of power. - "None could have supposed that letter a for- gery. I am not the only one, Mr. Phelps, who was compelled to acknowledge it must be the work of him whose name it bore--besides, how was I to know anything of the young mnaun. But had I, was it more unnatural in inc believing hium page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] The sick man said something in a complain- ing tone of his child's unkindness and disobedi- ence,but Mr. Phelps by avery few words silenced him, and at the end of an hour the invalid had. learned the folly of trying to deceive his partner, and although he did not cease his complainings, did not give up declaring himself very badly treated--his authority completely outraged, and he the most unhappy of all fathers; yet little by little he yielded to Mr. Phelps' propositions with regard to the immediate steps to be taken, and before he was left to his rest he had consented to his partner making as full a statement of the un- fortunate matter as he should deem proper or necessary, to be inserted in the principal journals of the whole country, concluded by the offer of "five thousand dollars reward" for any correct and positive information of the lost Wilson Har- ley, alias Wilson Farnham. When this was accomplished, Mr. Phelps de- clared his determination to hasten back to the Quite unconscious of the importance into which he had suddenly grown, even among those who had before scarcely known of his existence, Wilson rowed his boat down the river with a light-hearted joyousness which would have scan- dalised many a sentimentalist. That he had been very unhappy he would not have denied; and that, too, from the unprovoked injuries which he had received when doing his best to gain for himself an honorable position, by performing faithfully and uprightly his duty towards others-but the gloaming hour had passed, and full of health mor- ally and mentally, he was ready to receive the joy- ous sunlight and rejoice in it ! David, who was not yet sufficiently recovered to assist his com- panion in his labors, or even to endure the fa- tigue connected with the journey, unless cared for with the greatest tenderness, reclined upon the comfortable bed which had been spread for him, and shielded from the sun's scorching' rays, as well as the chilling winds of morning and evening, _._.. IU ___ 100 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. guilty, than it was in you believing your son-the city as quickly as possible, allowing no unneces- one you knew to be your son-one of the parties sary time to be lost, for he had more than one' to that affair? If I recollect, you did not deny reason for anxiety in the affair. More than two your belief in his guilt!"' months had passed since they received their last Mr. Phelps' features worked painfully, but he intelligence from David McDonald, and the face- said unhesitatingly, "The past has taught me of his daughter Delia began to wear an anxious what to look for from my unfortunate son; but expression, and from day to day he saw her losing even then I allowed no conviction to crush the something of her freshness and fine spirits, though father within me. But speak frankly and hon- still she expressed herself hopeful of his final estly, Mr. Farnham,-for nothing else will an- success. Yet this long wandering in such a blind swer now-did you not know at that time Wilson search was very wearing, and the merchant Harley to be the son of the woman who had once thought this advertisement, with the offer of so been nearer and dearer to you than all others ? large a reward, might possibly be of some use or we will not say, did you not know him to be your assistance to the persevering boy, though the son, but did you not recognize him as the child of chances seemed very small of any paper contain- your cast off wife 7n ing it penetrating that part of the country-so "How should I-how can you suppose I could wild and uninhabited, as they must believe, recognize him, when I had not seen him since he from what he had written them last-until months was three years old ?' after its publication; but the least they could The tone and manner, both shrinking and cow- do for either of the young men was to use all ardly, told the speaker false, and his daughter, dispatch, and Mr. Phelps was no lingerer in who had until now remained a silent listener, work he had in hand. Oculd endure no more. Laying one of her hands upon his, she said, pleadingly: CHAPTER XVI. "Father, dear father, for your own sake, don't shrink from the tiuth longer! In the end, all '"All's well that ends Well.'-SHAKSPEARE. must be known by the whole world; it can't be While at home all interested were in the heat helped; and Mr. Phelps knows now, for I have of their surprise, excitement, hope and fear, con- told him, have told him almost everything ! But nected with the bringing to light of the strange he is very kind, father, and will advise with you story of the Farnham family, Wilson Harley, now and help you, if you will tell him--if you do not to be known as the son of one of our wealthiest speak falsely to him but you must remember and most aristocratic merchants of western New my brother has been the great sufferer, and he York, was making short stages with his precious must be first considered by all of us-by all of us, freight-the convalescent David-towards their father !" home. I Ll THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 101 by the matting which had once served so well as to me through these dark years, and I can't tell bed room carpet, stretched as an awning over a why it is, but I feel that there is good,even half of the, boat. greater than I have ever known, waiting for toe. To him Wilson had ever seemed a wonderful Much as I have suffered in thislong banishment, mingling of the grave and gay, but never did he I have no regrets for the past. I have no rmin regard him with so much surprise as now, and in my heart for regrets-all seems so full of joy listen to the snatches ofjoyous song which would I felt it when we first found ourselves fairly under occasionally burst from his lips, and to which his way, and it hasn't for a moment left mne; and if splashing oars beat time, as though they partook you but go on improving, which I shall take good of the spirit of the singer-with doubts as to care that you do, I can see no reason w by our whether the world contained another heart which journey is not to go off famously." could have borne so much, feeling its sorrows And Wilson was not disappointed. When with all the acuteness of a most sensitive nature, they reached the point where the boat was to be and yet come out so fresh and whole. abandoned for a conveyance less in keeping with When questioned by David, as they sat at their the strength of his invalid, as it had been when mid-day lunch, as to how he had managed tokeep they first sat out, Divid found himself so mu in himself from the morbid melancholy which sel- improved as to bear the fatigue without any on- dom fails to attack those who have such trials to favorable results, and even very little rest did he meet, he answered cheerfully-almost gaily: find necessary during the day, so that the time "Why now that I am positive that it is all which they had anticipated must be consrumed in passed-that this is reality and no dream-that their home journey was very touch lessened. you are so nearly recovered, and we are actually When finally they came within one day's fray- on our way home, I would be worse than a el of the end, Wilson's excitement cocaine almost heathen did I not allow my heart to bound with unbearable. His anxiety forneit companinohad joy and thanksgiving! I tell you, David, I feel no longer the power to keep him any thing like to-day that I am actually a boy again, arid that calm! Question after question did he iisk osf any demonstration-no matter how, noisy would David, as to theirhome and the dear ones in it; be in perfect keeping with my years! Had I not of their father-the only father he hai ever been afraid of alarming you-of forcing you to known-the grandmother-of Mary--and when doubt my sanity, I think I might have tried my he spoke this last name his voice was subdued as voice in an old fashioned shout, several times, to him-had hie thought of it-it would have such as we used to give when boys, to hear the seemed most fitting it should he. Thel Amy echo sent back by' the barns and hills-I believe and the boys-he would wonder if lie should ho I am happier than I could have been had I able to recognise them, was he to mteet them known nothing unusual in the way of sorrow!" away from home-and for the dozenth time he "But this is not at all usual," was David's an. asked David to t,11 him of James, WhO hailbe- swer; "we generally see persons who have been come the pride of their house-of his floe, ianly severely tried, distrustful of everything-I had looks and manners, and what lie said of hiin almost said of everybody, particularly if they when last at home, and when would he probably have suffered such injuries as you have!'' be home again. A moment Wilson was silent and thoughtful, David could scarcely wonder at this agitation, then he replied, but he could not prevent its giving hin iinxiety, "The wicked-I mean those who study to do ;for he bud never before seen Wilson so unsettled, evil-have always had a place in the world, and but he answered all his inq-ries as quietly as he will as long as the world goes on under its pres- could making every eah irt to chi ahis rO ah- ent system, and those who would do right will could, m' a mPer eilr o chain h Is oman suffer more or less by these servants of an Evil ion's mnd to some particular subject, but all his Power. Such things are permitted to be, so must efforts proved of little avail. we not believe it is for some good? We neither When at last they reached the city which had of us doubt God's ability to destroy evil; and that been the scene of Wilson's unjust accusation and He permits it, should be a convincing proof that disgrace, the poor fellow became very silent, and it is'for some good. Now if we bring ourselves David, who nad had some thought of leaving the to view it in this light, we will not allow the sor- cars here, that he night by presenting-hiiself in rows and trials of the past, to keep us from the person, relieve the anxiety of one lovig heart, im enjoyment of good when it comes, nor knowing which he believed himself of no little importance, there are evil workers in the wold, make us dis-l concluded duty called in another direction, and il- trustful of those who have never given us any- though he find it somewhat trying, the putting thing but kindness. Yet, David, there is one off of this ,glad meeting for another day, yet for thing which I think inust make every one heavy- Wilson s sake he resolved to do it and to say noth- hearted, even for a lifetime-that I have never ing of what had been his plans. had to bear, and God grant I never may! It is Had any argument been required to convince to be doubted by those we love! him he was acting rightly, he would have iound it " Do you think I could turn my face towards in one glance at Wilson's face, which was strongly home so gladly; that I could look forward Iwith marked by the conflicting emotions which were ut such a certainty to a free loving welcome , had work within his breast. The sorrow aid shame they ever doubted me there ? No, no, I- should had been borne with fortitude-the bniishmient have no assurance that another enemy might not from home and friends had been met with bravery, step in to lay another and a greater sin at my and the prospect of being restored to all that he doer, and so turn the welcome which I had so held dear, had been hailed by him with glad thanks- fondly expected .to a cold repulse ! But now I giving! But now that thle hour of this glad re- am so sure of those hearts which have been true union was at hand, the joy of the present joined page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 1 02 THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. '1 to the sad remembrance of the past, threatened to be almost too much for him to endure! Yet, David knew how useless would be anything he could say, so he watched him sileptly, seeming all the time occupied with his own thoughts., When at length the cars stopped at the depot where the two travelers were to leave them, Wilson aroused himself again, and attended to the removing of their baggage with more pres- ence of mind than could be expected of him. The lad whom h9 engaged to take him and his companion home, eyed him very narrowly, but al- though he had seen him hundreds of times before, five years had made too great a change to leave the boy much chance of recognizing him ; but wh 'n David came out to get-into the carriage the youth was no longer at a loss to make out his man. "Gracious goodness, David McDonald, you've come home at last, have you? Well, I guess the folks at home won'tbe sorry to see you, for they'd near about given you up as a goner! Here these many weeks your father's been wearing such a face as made a feller's heart ache but to look at it! But you aint lookin' dreadful ruggid-guess vou aint had the easiest times in the world, eh ?" David could not repress a smile at this quaint greeting, but the lad - was one who had known him for years, and the interest which was mani- fest by his remarks, was upon this long acquain- tance warrantable, besides Ezekiel Jones, which was his name, or as he was familiarly known, "Young Zeke," was the oddity of the village and neighborhood, and David thought his drolleries might not have a bad effect upon Wilson at this time, and his answer but invited the youth to push the conversation further. "Yes, Zeke, I've been a lodg time.away-much longer than I should have been, but for sickness- I suppose they have been anxious at home-when did you see my father, Zeke ?" "I seen him yesterday, he was jest coming' out of the post office! I thought he must a' earn something' awful he looked so bad; but when I asked him, he said 'No, Zeke, not a word from David yet!' and oh! my, his voice made a feller feel awful, 'twas a'most as if he'd seen you dead !" "Poor Father !" was David's ejaculation, and then he asked, "are they all well at home, do you know, Zeke ?" "Well, yes, I guess all perty tolerable that's there-they was the last I heard anything said 'bout it !" "And are not all at home that are there usually?' "Well, yes, all but Mary, your sister, and you I guess; I ain't heard of any of the rest being away !" Wilson had not seemed particularly interesteZ in what the boy had to say, but David saw hi face change in its expression at this last item o information, and he was not sorry they had hi upon something which was of importance enoug to turn him from his own thoughts, besides it wa such an unusual thing for Mary to be from home the intelligence surprised him not a little. "Are you sure Mary is not at home, Zeke?' was David's inquiry. "Gracious, yes,I think I ought to be, if there' any believin' what the folks say ! for its bee town talk these last tew weeks-every bod -IL e 31s seems to think" she's the main spoke in the wheel, up to your house!' "And they aint very far from right !" was Da- vid's earnest answer.; "but do you know where, my sister has gone, that she stays so long?" "No, I don't know where it is-Iv'e heard 'um tell the name of the place, but its a jaw-break- er, so I wouldn't try to speak it, but its way off som:'ers your brother 'Jim came and took her away! I don't knew as I ort to tell," and the youth glanced at Wilson; "but you must a' earn of it afore this time, the papers have had noth- in' else in 'um for the last tew months, so I can't see where's the hurt of speakin.' She went off to help take care of that Mr. Farnham; he's awful sick they say, and the old feller too who told lies about his wife, they say he ain't a goin' to live much .longer, and I'm sure no- body'll cry when h'a dead." " Mary gone to take care of Mr. 'Farnham!" was David's exclamation more to himself than' to his informant, Wilson said nothing, but his faced expressed an impatient anxiety; under other circumstances he might have hesitated to listen to the town gos- sip with regard to Mary's movements, but now information, no matter how.it was gained, must be had, and he would have asked to hear more, had not the boy shrewdly guessing he had hit up- on something the travelers had not yet heard of, found it impossible to deny himself the luxury which nearly all of this class so much enjoy-be- ing the first to tell a startling piece of news. He was not certain as to who was David's compan-- ion, but the possibility of its being the much talked of Wilson, made it more impossible for the boy to leave to another the rare treat of tell- ing the wonderful story; yet his natural delicacy- for none in their natural state are destitute of this property-made him hesitate a little as to how he was to commence, but it was only for a mo- ment. "Why, yes; you see it wasn't such an unnat- ural thing neither-mother says it wasn't! She can't have any love for Mr. Farnham, I dare say, but this son of his'n that everybody takes on so about-he was amost like a brother to her and you too! Then the idear of his offering five thousand dollars to anybody 't'll bring him home! nuff to make a-feller independent for life! I'd thought it would a been cheaper to a cared some- thin' for him when he had him safe at home, but then there's no 'countin for taste, that's what the books say, I 'blieve; andbooksisright some- times. But then ain't it awful strange how things turn sometimes! It makes a body anost laugh, 'to think of the 'pinions of people. Now, I shan't forget it as long as I live, for mother' 1 was awful mad about folks medl'in with what they didn't know nothin about, and what was none their business, neither. They said when all that happened in the city, you know-that about h the money being' took from Mr. Phelps- s that your father might a know'd better , than such a child from the streets to take, that he never had a right look, and any- body of common sense would a know'd the boy would never come to any good! Then when it s come out ever so longafter that it was another n awful mean feller. that took the money, they y was sort o' still-yet once in a while you see one i f eww...r.r..r.++. ..a. - - c +r..-- -- THE MITHERI that thought folks hadn't got no memories, and would sry---they always knowed it was all a lie! Then when this come out 'bout him being the son of this awful rich Mr. Farnhamn, they wasn't a bit s'pried, though they could talk of nothing else from mornin till night; they would declare anybody that had eyes, might a seed from the very fust that he belonged to no common breed, That made mother mad---as though he was any better fur havin a rich father! Well, here we are, almost to your gate. No, David McDonald, you needn't be feelin in your pocket, for I shant take nothin; I'll be paid next time I see your father, by one sight of his face. I'll take care of the things, you both go along." It was well that their arrival at the McDonald house brought the loquacious Zeke to a close, for the subject was one upon which he was not at all likely to become tired, and both of his com- panions had lost all disposition to question or in- terrupt him, for it was very plain to them there was something very wonderful to be learned, and they both felt the propriety of waiting to hear it from those to whom it was a matter of more than a curious interest. The reception of these two young men in their home was too full of heart-felt rejoicing to be described. ' The father, who had begun to believe himself bereft of not only their long absent Wil- lie, but also of the prop of his declining years, his true-hearted David, wept tears of gladness, while grandma found it too much for her to bear with composure, and after one kiss of welcome to each, she stole into her own room, that none should wit- ness her struggling with her emotions; and with the younger members of the family there was no lack of feeling in their glad greeting. It was a very long time before any one was composed enough to speak quietly of the matter which was weighing upon the minds of all, but when at last all became more quiet, and Mr. Mc- Donald, assisted by the boys and Amy, gave Wil- lie and David a full account of the disclosures made by Wilson Danforth, their surprise was too great to adnit of any other emotion for some time. Suddenly, a new idea seemed to strike David-- "What did they say of this strange being, fa- ther-what was his look? Scant gray hair, a gray beard, and a face that looked as though it it had been in the grave ?" "Those were not the words, Davie, but still very much the same meaning. But why do you ask so eagerly and so particularly?" Mr. Mc- Donald asked this in an eager way. "Because we have seen him, father. It is the same, Willie-the same wild being you saved from starvation and helped upon his journey! Don't you'recognize him ? Willie, Willie, I will never doubt again, that in all things which may seem to us evil there may be a hidden blessing. Now I see why we were detained there; why my illness was necessary, for without- it we should have been home when this strange man needed succor-this Wilson Danforth-and he must have died, and with him all this knowledge would have perished." "And but for my poor mother I could I wish it had !" was Wilson's earnest answer. "No, my boy, no, no, I can't hear you say this," the father answered quickly. "You have seen LESS BAIRN. 103 enough of the world to know how to use wealth- if that was the only consideration, but it is not; you have a sister, the child of your darling mooth- er, who will soon be left wholly orphaned and will need a brother's love and proteotion-yi should thank Heaven that you have learned all this-for her sake if not for your own !" "And you will love her so, Willio, for she nm4 be a dear girl-Jemmie says she is beautiful and so good, and then if she wasn't, she would never have been willing for old Neptune to have gone with you on that Christmas morning! Won't you bring her soon to see us, Willie? for I shall never be satisfied till I have seen her-a real he- roine as she is." This the enthusiastic Amy said in her own cheering, loving way, which never failed to inthe all happier who caie within its influence, and Wilson began to feel its effect before ho was aware of it-for this child was indeed a ray of cheering sunlight in her hemue. Before the family retired that night, it was agreed that on the following morning Wilson should set out on this journey to see his father, before he should die. His heart rebelled soie- what at first, but finally he yielded for his sister's sake; and there was another in that louse aiding his sister in her duties as nurse, whom his heart bounded with impatient love to greet once more. David was to accompany him as far as the city, should his strength seem suflicient for it When morning should come. In this case love proved itself good tonie, and all were compelled to acknowledge David much improved by hisuight's rest, and so, without much opposition, he accompanied Wilson a short dis tance on his journey. But he felt no dispositi, i to go beyond the city, and the welcome which he received from Delia Phelps would have made him forgetful of ten fold the fatigue le suffered in his short ride, though it was strange how nuch nursing and care this tond girl and her mother found him requiring, and how long a time ie needed for rest before they could consent to his venturing to return home. The day was drawing to a close when the car- riage containing Wilson stopped at the cottage gate where terminated his journey. 1Ie looked anxiously out for soine dear, familiar face to welcome him, but all was as quiet as had the cottage containedno living thing. Passing into the yard, he reached the side door before any one discovered him. Then a face was seen at the window, and before the traveler had time for thought, the hands of Mary McDontald were within his own. Was it strange that for a time everything else was forgotten in the joy of this meeting ? Mary was the first to recollect where they were. "Come in here, dear Willie" (how familiar and sweet that name sounded to her; as she led the way, she repeated it mentally again and again, before going on with what she hai to say). As he seated himself, she laid her hand in his once more-and now there was something very touch- ing in the expression of her face, and the move- ment seemed full of sympathy. "Have you heard,Willie," she said in little more than a whisper, "have you heard what has come?" " What do you mean, Mamy ? ,you need not fear to speak ! i page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 104 THIS MITHERLESS BAIRN. "Death was before you, Willie-how I wish you could have come before; he-your father- so longed to see you, but he is gone; he died this morning !" Wilson leaned his forehead upon the loving hand which lay within his own. After all there was a feeling at his heart-not of sorrow-but this had been his father, and he was dead,-dead without realizing his one strongest wish-with- out looking upon his son-the son of her he-had so cruelly wronged. Mary's other hand was passed very gently over his bowed head-the touch, slight as it was, aroused him-and looking up into her face,.which was much the same he had left it five years be- fore, he said: " My sister.,Mamy, this must be a bitter trial to her, yet she must even in this hour have a wel- come for a brother who has so long been a, wan- derer.- I cannot regret that I am spared this meeting with one, who, if living, I know I could only regard with bitternesi-now that he is dead all is forgiven. 3ut, my sister. my heart yearns towards her, Mamy, and I would sootheand com fort her in this hour. Mary had no voice to reply by a single word, but hurrying out of the room she a moment after re-entered it, accompanied by Henrietta. The tear-stained face of the latter told that her sor- row was such as had caused bitter weeping, and at sight of her brother she found it impossible to restrain her over-wrought feelings, and long and passionately she wept; but her tears brought with them composure, and for the first time in her life she felt the joy of having a brother. After a little time Mary stole out of the room, and left to themselves, the brother and sister talked of him who had but a few hours since passed from earth; but their words were gentle, pitying ones, nothing of bitterness and reproach. Then Henrietta told her brother of another one, who waited to see him before leaving the world. It was the man for whom he had been named- the man who had done them a great injury, and at last had been the means of restoring the wan- deret to his right. Wilson expressed his readi- ness to visit the bedside of this strange being withbiut further delay, and as his sister led the way into the sick room, he peered eagerly at the bed upon which was stretched the emaciated form. One glance was enough. David bad been correct in his conjecture. It was indeed the same being who had been his guest in his prairie home! The agitation of the invalid, when he recognized in his name-sake the young man who had saved. his life when he was near perishing from fatigue and hunger, made both his watchers tremble for the result, but after a time he rallied-his hour had not yet come. While these two were in the .ick chamber, James McDonald, accompanied by Mr. Phelps, returned from the neighboring town, where'they had been to make all necessary arrangements for the burial, which in accordance with Mr. Farn- ham's request was to take place in this quiet country town, where had passed the last few months of his life, and where he had been hum-' bled to the very dust. When told by Mary-who met them before they reached the cottage door- of Wilson's arrival, Mr. Phelps' inquiring res- ponse was "And David ?" "Is safely cared for by your wife and daugh- ter!" was Mary's answer. "Then we may indeed rejoice ;" was the earn- est reply. "We will not even complain by wishing they had come sooner--poor Willie, he has been spared a sad trial and he has had enough of them, so let us not regret it!," Both Mr. Phelps and Mamy felt to say "amen" to this brotherly sentiment from James, and then Wilson himself appearing at the door, both turned their attention to him. Ere another day dawned death had the'second time entered the cottage, and these old men, who had in life been mortal enemies, were laid to their last rest on the same day, by the hands of those who had most severely suffered by their evil doings, and these two were their only mourners. One.year from this time, there was gathered in the snug farm home of David McDonald a joyous party-a three-fold wedding party! Wil- son Farnham-the wealthy and courted-claim- ed from this dearly loved circle for his bride, the quiet, gentle Mary whom he had loved since first his eyes rested upon her little child-face. And proud was he of bestowing his sister upon the manly James, who had taken good care to win the heart of her he had long loved. As to the third pair it would not be difficut to guess who they were,:when Delia Phelps' promise to David -to give him her hand whenever he should ask it, so he who had so cruelly suffered by her brother, was there to witness the bands-shall be recall- ed! The news of the death of this unhappy brother had, however, compelled David to mas- ter his impatience for a year's delay. His bride was not all that the young farmer won by the long search after the lost Wilson-by right the five thousand dollars reward belonged to him, and he did not refuse to take it. Wilson and Henrietta could well spare double that sum from their abundance, but this was all that he would receive. Among all of the party there was much of curi- osity to see the bridal gift which W ilson had for his sister. David evidently knew what it was, for he would give a very conscious look whenever it was spoken of, but to not even Delia did he be- tray the secret, for, as he told her, it was not his. Of one thing they were certain-for size it was not diminutive, for it required a box almost large enough to contyia the young man himself to hold it. Henrietta was not the least curious one of the company, but she forbore questioning, and when the moment came and the cover was removed from the case, displaying her dear old Neptune,that she had never ceased to remember with fondness, the swelling of her loving heart, would not allow her to speak her thanks-but her brother read all she would have spoken in her affectionate eyes,and he felt that his noble sister appreciated the act- that to her the gift was of more value than could have been any other, no matter how costly. And after this life of severe trial, he who had nearly seventeen.years before sought the grave of his darling mother to die-he who had felt himself homeless, friendless, motherless, was bless- ed with home and friends and enough of this world's goods, but what he valued more than all p he rest ten times told-with the love of his true- hearted wife. I
