The sunny side, or, The country minister's wife
page: 0 (Cover) [View Page 0 (Cover) ] page: 0 (TitlePage) [View Page 0 (TitlePage) ] THE OR, THE COUNTRY MINISTER'S WIFE. BY H. TRUSTA. BOSTON: JOHN P. JEWETT AND CO. ANDOVER: WARREN P. DRAPER. 1851. page: 0 (Table of Contents) [View Page 0 (Table of Contents) ] CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. THE PASTOR ELECT, . . . Page 1 CHAPTER II. THE NEW HOME, . 14 CHAPTER M. THE BREAKFAST-CHAT, . . . 21 CHAPTER IV. THE MNISTER'S COMPANY, . . 27 CHAPTER V. DEMAND AND EFFORT, . . 31 CHAPTER VI. PERPTxEv-I"LS AND PURPOSES, . . 38 CHAPTER VI. THE COUNCIL, . . 48 page: vi (Table of Contents) -vii (Table of Contents) [View Page vi (Table of Contents) -vii (Table of Contents) ] Vi CONTNTS. CHAPTER Vill. VISIT TO BOSTON, . . Page 46 CHAPTER IX. PRESENTS, 52 CHAPTER X. HARD TIMES . .59 CHAPTER XI. GOING TO COLLEGE, . . . 62 CHAPTER XII. THE PACkiNG, . . 66 CHAPTER XTTI. TROUBLES, . " CHAPTER XIV. HOPING ON, . . 76 CHAPTER XV. THE FIRST WELCOME HOME, . . 78 CHAPTER XV1. THE OLD PLAID CLOAK, . 80 CHAPTER XVII. THE BROADCLOTH CLOAK, 88 CONTENTS, vii CHAPTER XVII. THE LETTER HOME, . . Page 91 CHAPTER XIX. THE SECOND WELCOME HOME, . 96 CHAPTER XX. AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL, .101 CHAPTER XXI. THE SACRIFICE, . . . . 105 CHAPTER X X f. TROUBLE Wrlr GEORGE, . . 114 CHAPTER XXI I 1. HENRY'S Box, . . . . " CHAPTER XXI V. THE RETROSPECT, . . 125 CHAPTER XXV. THE REWARD, . . . .9 / . . page: viii-9[View Page viii-9] THE SUNNY SIDEI CHAPTER I. THE PASTOR ELECT. ONE pleasant summer afternoon, a young clergy- man named Mr. Edwards, rode over from Lynnfield, to Weston. These are .two quiet villages in New England. He rode alone, for his friend, Miss Emily Harwood, could not be persuaded to accompany him at this time. He had received a call from the church in Weston, accepted it, and was to be or- dained on the following day. The drive was a delightful one. Much of it took him through still pine woods; the horse's feet fell softly, as if on velvet, and the summer flies buzzed drowsily, and now and then a squirrel chirped, or a bird sang a pleasant song. Our young minister was very thoughtful. To his excited mind the road over which he was passing, seemed like a rainbow bridge which was linking two parts of his life to. gether--his life of preparation, and his life of ser- vice. The one he was now taking his leave of; the other he was about to enter. His thoughts and atf fections would linger around his college walls and the familiar scenes of a student's life) and he could 2 page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 THE SUNNY SIDE. not bid them adieu without regret; yet the future beckoned him on invitngly. In his heart, he was glad to go to work, though he thought he knew that work would be one of great care and toil. Hope buckled upon him shining armor; he was full of youthful zeal, and he said, "I am ready for the con- flict--through Christ strengthening me, I can do all things." Then he thought of his people, what they seemed most to need in the way of instruction, what plans for their improvement would be most likely to be successful; his mind was fertile in projects, and his imagination taking the reins, soon drove on to re- su'lts. Beneath his fostering care his charge grew in wisdom and grace, until there was not in all New England a better and abler parish than that of Wes- ton. He would make the most of himself, for their sakes--and: his affections warmed towards them, and he thanked God that he had given him such a work to do, and prayed that he might be faithful unto the end. Then she who was to share his labor and joy, re- called him to present practical domestic arrange- ments. On the next day he was to be ordained-- a very important event surely; but on the week fol- lowing he anticipated one scarcely less important, for he was then to be married. He began to wonder if they had not made a mistake in the order of these events. Could he do full justice to his first sermon, with that -in such immediate prospect? As if to speed the time a little, he drew his whip across his ponyRs ears, who, feeling insulted by so smart a blow, started off at a round trot, and soon brought his THE- PASTOR ELECT. 1- i1 driver out of the still woods, into the village of Wes- ton. He had not been in Weston before, since his ac-: ceptance of the call; with what different eyes he now beheld it. How was its beauty and importance increased. With what real interest he looked on the thriving farms. Pony, as if to give him pleaty of time for his survey, fell back into his sober jog. Several individuals recognized Mr. Edwards. The children, wild from school, climbed a stone wall, and gave a "hurrah for, the new minister."' He rode by them smilingly with his hat off, and made them his firm friends. Pony was now climbing a hill, on the top of which stood the church, so he must needs walk-- a liberty which his driver scarcely noticed. He was think- ing of other things. Away on his right there, was the handsomest house in Weston, and the richest man lived in it; his name was Dodge. But alas! Mr. Edwards had already heard that he was miserly. "What a pity," thought he. "What can I do to cure him of such a fault. I must get at him from the pulpit." A sermon on the love of money, oc- curred to him. He decided in due time to preach it. Now he was passing a demure looking dwelling, and instantly this sermon vanished from his mind, for it was there Deacon Jones lived, and at the thought of him our-young friend's brow clouded. His slight acquaintance with him had quite con- firmed the common report that he was a peculiar- man. A good man he was generally believed to be, yet no one liked him. There seemed to be some curious twist in his make, which nothing would fit. If the. church started- any movement, it was almost page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 THE SUNNY SIDE* morally certain he would oppose it--he helped along no plan which did not originate with himself. It was also a favorite opinion of his, that in these days the clergy were getting quite too much power into their hands, and that the laity must have a watch- ful eye to their own interests, and stand up for their rights. Notwithstanding his goodness, he made so much trouble for the church at Weston, that in a fit of desperation they chose him to the deaconship, thinking this would enlist his energies on the side- of good order. It was "jumping out of the frying- pan into the fire." He so "magnified his office," that the Weston pulpit went for some time a beg- ging. Yet after all, there was no one in the parish who was so kind to the poor, so attentive to' the4 sick, lived so simply, and gave away so generously as Deacon Jones. It seemed as if the church could neither do without him nor with him. "Ah me!" sighed Mr. Edwards, "I am afraid I shall find the thorn there." His last conversation with one of his Professors occurred to him. Said he, as he followed him to the door, and bade him good-by, "Now, when you are settled, if you find a crooked stick in your parish in the shape of an un- ruly Deacon, don't hope to get rid of the trouble by running away; you will find one everywhere." Pony now had left the demure house quite behind him, and was approaching pleasanter objects. There was the church with its handsome spire, and pleas- ant green blinds all freshy painted, as pretty a church as a man could desire; and nearly opposite was the dear little parsonage, with its liberal yard and new fence, and thriving shade trees. "There we shall live." thought Mr. Edwards. Then the THE PASTOR ELECT. 13 clock in the church steeple struck six. This was Deacon Emery's tea hour; so pony could linger no longer at the parsonage, however much he might be inclined to do so. *-- * page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] CHAPTER II. THE NEW HOME. THoUrGH an ordination was no new thing at Wes- ton, yet it made quite a stir. At an early hour peo- ple came riding in from the neighboring villages, and the church was filled to overflowing. A very liberal dinner was provided at the tavern, which by the way was something new, and was proposed by Deacon Jones. The ordination services, as a whole, were unu- sually interesting; and the new minister pleased every one. For the admiration of the ladies, he was undoubtedly indebted much to his personal ap- pearance. His countenance was one which readily betrayed feeling, and he appeared to great advan- tage. His manner also was warm-hearted and cor- dial, and this won the regard of the older people. After the services, a few with whom Mr. Edwards had become somewhat familiar, crowded around him to inquire about his health and his plans. Said an old man to him: "We want you to bring your wife now and settle down, for we hear you have got one picked out. On six hundred dollars we think you can live pretty snug with us." Mr. Edwards smiled, and told him that he intend- ed so to do, and should be absent the next week on his wedding tour. After his ordination, he had no time to think of the weighty cares of his new office; THE NEW HOME. 15 for the Sabbath was fast approaching, and the first sermons for the occasion pressed him hard. He wrote night and day. He did not wish to dis- appoint his people, he was determined to do his best, but he could not satisfy himself. He wrote and re-wrote, till the bell tolled, and then entered his pulpit dissatisfied. After so much excitement, Monday morning found him of course quite ex- hausted. Then came preparations for his wedding, then the wedding itself, and the journey, and the visit home to introduce to his widowed mother the chosen wife of her only son; then the exchange on the following Sabbath. So, to say the least, he was scarcely rested, when he arrived at Weston on the Tuesday following with his bride. For a particular account of their reception we are indebted to Mrs. Edwards's private journal; and from the same source we must draw our most inter- esting accounts of the domestic history of this min- ister's family. FROM THE JOURNAL. "We reached my father's, on our return from our wedding tour, about noon. He and Mother were as delighted to see me as if I had returned from Eu- rope; I have never been away from them much. After dinner we left home and started for Weston. Home! I suppose I must not say that any more. Father, by the way, had made us a present of a fine horse and buggy. We shall take a world of com- fort out of it. Howmy pen lingers around the old spot! If I do not hurry I shall :never get to Wes- ton. page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] TIE SUNNY SIDE. It was a beautiful ride there; Prince took us over in about four hours. How grateful I am that we are to live so near home, (there it is again). Seems to me my "cup runneth over" with mercies; I hope my heart acknowledges in it all my Heavenly Fathler's care; indeed, I think I do love to acknowledge this. I shall not soon forget this ride. Henry and I talked with each other more freely about our feel- ings and plans, our hopes and fears, than we had ever yetdone. I ventured to tell him what anxie- ties had harassed me; how often I had trembled when I thought of what was before me; how totally unfitted it seemed to me I was for a minister's wife. I felt that I could love his people - I could love any one who loved him, but to take the lead among them would be painful to me. To be an ob- ject of notice, to be looked up to as a model--poor I! who needed myself so much to be taught and led! He told me to banish all such-needless anxieties and comforted me by making the path a little plain before me. Said he: "Just act yourself, Emily without any regard to what others will expect or think. Let your own conscience be your guide in the new circumstances in which you will be placed; satisfy that, and you need nothing more." I know I have a sincere desire to do what in all things will be best for his people; but my mind is in some con- fusion as to what exactly a minister's wife should him to be. I have before me a very good, very proper, very thankful kind of a lady, dresced in a straw bonnet trimmed with green ribbon, but this does not help me much. I am very long in getting to Weston--longer THE NEW HOME. 17 than Prince was. It seemed to me we had but just started, when Henry pointed with his whip to a tall spire, which showed finely on a background of blue clouds - "There is my church, Emily." Were we really so near? I began to tremble--he laughed at me a little -I wished the introduction over. Said he, " we will ride quietly into our own yard, and perhaps see no one till to-morrow." I suppose he did half believe it, but only half; soon we turned into Elm Street. To my astonishment, it was filled with people dressed in their Sunday best, who seem- ed to be all hurrying in one direction. "What does it mean?" said I. Henry laughed, "I don't know, I am sure, unless they are going to p y their re- spects to the bride." I felt that my time had come, and I must meet it in a manner worthy of his bride. I tried to quiet myself, but by this time it was diffi- cult, for we were recognized, and though every one bowed to him, I felt they looked at me. So many bright faces I had never seen at once. I looked at Henry; his speaking eye told me plainly how much he was pleased. I struggled still more to regain my composure, that I might meet his people as he would wish me to. We drove up to our own house, but I had no time then to notice it. It seemed to be filled with people, nd doors and windows were all open. Prince stop- ped at the little white gate. Dea. and Mrs. Emery stood there, and cordially welcomed us to Weston. Dea. Emery offered me his arm, and with faltering steps I went up the path. Dea. and Mrs. Jones re- ceived us at the door, and as cordially welcomed us to our new home. My hat and shawl were taken off by some one, and I was ushered into a parlor page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 180 .rTHE :SUNNr SIDE. already filled. I looked around timidly for Mr Ed wards, but I could scarcely find him. I was intro- duced, and introduced. I shook hands with all who came, and tried to look pleased, but to tell the truth, I was both frightened and bewildered. The rooms were oppressively warm, I was tired, I was afraid I should fall. I eaned against a chair for support; the buzzing became more and more indistinct; I really didnot know what I said or did. Mrs. Jones was the first to observe my embarrassment, and she ,quietly took me out of the room, and led me round to the back stairs. "You look very tired," said she; "just slip up into that room and lock yourselfin. I will call you when tea is ready." "Tea!" thought I, "am I to serve, or to be serv- ed?" Whatever was yet to be done, I was in need enough of present quiet. A few minutes more of that heat and excitement, and I think I should have fainted. Now I threw myself into a chair, shut my eyes, and tried to rally my scattered senses. Soon I heard a step I well knew, and a tap at the door. "Are you able to go down to tea?" asked Henry, when admitted. "0 yes," said I, "I am rested now. I will brush off the dust a little. I feel much better." We were met on the stairs by Dea. Jones, who with some formality ushered us into the tea-room. Tables were set here, loaded with niceties. Hot tea and coffee had been prepared and were handed Tound by the young ladies. All seemed to be en- joying themselves. When tea was over, there was some bustle among the young men. A line was formed, and an original hymn was well sung-- this t '? THE NEW HOME. 19 was their welcome to the new pastor. Henry felt it, and replied to it eloquently; then he made the Clos- ing prayer. After this was shaking of hands and shaking of hands, and invitations to ca--call caU-- call. But with due consideration- for us, by eight 3'clock Henry and I were alone in the parsonage. "Emily," said he pretty soon, "are you too tired to look over the house to-night?" I was very im- patient to do so, for as yet I had really seen nothing. My furniture had been sent the week before, and I knew that some of the people were to unpack it for us. They had not only done this, but had made the carpets and arranged everything. Our first visit was to the study. Here we found a handsome book-case, presented, it seemed, by the young men. Henry's books had been taken from his box, and nearly filled it. I thought we had quite a little library to begin with. Henry was in- clined to stop and laugh awhile at the order in which the books had been placed, but I shut the door and would not let him. We went back to the parlor. How nice and new and prettyit' looked--simple as was my furniture! Here we found a handsome rocking-chair and some mantle lamps, placed there by the young ladies. In the chamber over this, was an album-bedquilt made by the children; and in- deed in every room we found some testimonial of the good-will of the people. They had manifested so much in our reception, that it seemed to me I already loved them. They were our first"People,' and this was our first home. I felt as if nothing was wanting; Henry had been called to the pleas- antest parish in New England, was a well-beloved minister, and I was his wife. page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 THE SUNNY SIDE. After our survey, we returned to the parlor. As I placed the light on a little stand, I found one pres- ent had been overlooked. It was a small English Bible, well bound, given by Mr. Dodge. Henry smiled, when he saw whom it was from -I did not know why. This Bible was of a convenient size, and good print, and Henry proposed that we should use it for a family-bible. I hesitated a little, think- ing it almost too handsome, but we at length decided to do so. I drew up the stand to the sofa, we sat down together, he read a portion of the Scriptures, and we knelt, side by side, in prayer. How he prayed! How his heart overflowed with gratitude to God ; how earnestly it went forth in petitions for God s blessing upon our new home and our family altar." CHAPTER III. THE BREAKFAST-CHAT. PASSING over the first few months of beginning house-keeping at the parsonage, we meet our friends again at the breakfast-table, on a pleasant Septem- ber morning. The windows of the little sitting-room were open, and a straggling branch of morning-glory, full of blue star-blossoms, had fallen in upon the white sill. The table, so neatly laid for two, with its simple white crockery, was cozy enough, and the lady with rosy cheeks who presided, looked around her with much satisfaction. The breakfast was all of her own cooking - she had been up a couple of hours, working like a bee. "How are you going to get along without help?" asked Mr. Edwards. "Beautifully," replied his wife, "I really do not need any one. Is not this a nice breakfast? Taste bty biscuit. Do you not think that by and by I $hall make them almost as well as your mother?" "I never tasted better," replied he, and was silent. Mrs. Edwards felt it; her eye instantly glanced over her table, but she could detect nothing wrong there. Stin, Mr. Edwards was silent, and sipped his coffee. At length he spoke suddenly, as if just aroused. "Emily, I doubt whether it is best to try to get along so." "Get along how?" she inquired anxiously. page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 22 THE SUNNY SIDE. "Why, without any help. You have to work too hard, and I know you have never been used to it, and it troubles me." "Is that all?" said Mrs. Edwards, smiling; "I was really afraid something was wrong in the breakfast. You need not have one moment's anxiety on that point. I have not been so free from headaches, in years, as since we have been housekeeping, and I have done the work. I really think it suits me; besides, Henry, I love to do it. While I am busy about, I fancy it is all for you, and that I am saving some of the salary for you which can go towards filling up the book-case. Why, don't I make a nice little housekeeper?" said she, laughing and lifting up her bright eyes to him, hoping to dispel the cloud which still lingered there. "The best in the world, love," replied he; "but to tell the truth, this salary business is beginning to trouble me. I find now that I did not fully under- stand it at the time of my settlement. The people have never yet raised over five hundred dollars; they have depended on a few voluntary contributions to make out the amount. Sometimes they get it and sometimes they do not; there is no dependence to be placed upon it; indeed, I doubt whether they will raise it even the first year. Our house rent is ninety dollars. I am seriously afraid we cannot live here." "Why, do not you think we can make it out.?" said Mrs. Edwards. "It seems to me that four hun- dred dollars well managed will do a great deal. It will be two or three years before I shall need any- thing, and you have a pretty good stock of clothing. Then here is our garden, and we can live mostly on THE BREAKFAST-CHAT. 23. the vegetables we raise. I really would prefer not. to have a girl, and I don't see, Henry, what we do want money for; we might lay up our salary for a 'rainy-day. " She could not make him smile. "I have no fears for myself," said he gravely. "I expect to work and work hard, and I trust I am willing to do so. I have motive enough in the na- ture of mywqrto sustain me, but I see plainly that all the drudgery and petty cares inseparable from such a situation must fall upon you." "And have I no motive to sustain me?" asked: she, with tears in her eyes. "You do not know how much my heart is in the work of a minister's wife; you have not tried me long enough yet." "I think I do know," replied the young minister, with returning cheerfulness, for anxiety and distrust were fast vanishing before such a spirit of hope and love. "I begin to find out one thing," said he at length, for now he was becoming sociable; I begin to find out that I must have a settled plan about my studies. I must look over the whole field, make up my mind as to what I ought to do, what I can do, what I will do, and stick to it. It will never answer for me to depend upon the impulses and necessities of the hour, for intellectual effort. I must do more than simply meet the wants of this people week by week. I must not narrow myself down to the actual demand upon me, and I feel that I am in some danger of it. I see what is attainable and have many enthusiastic aspirations for it; but when it comes to going into my study day after day, inclined or disinclined, con- venient or .inconvenient, andtoiling my way along; page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 THE SUNNY SIDE. step by step so slowly, my enthusiasm vanishes, my spirits flag, and if I am ready for the Sabbath, I am very apt to find excuses for leaving my study- table. Yes," said he with a laugh, "I am fully convinced that I should make a great man if it could only be done by one tremendous effort. It is daily, patient toil, that disheartens me. Now, Emily, I must from the first, keep a jealous eye on this ten- dency of mine, and you must help me." "Tell me how I can help you?" "By feeling yourself and by often reminding me, that it is my business to'be in my study forenoons; and in order to accomplish anything there I must have an uninterrupted morning. This, I foresee, will throw all the ordinary business and social calls on you; what do you say to this?" "O, I shall find it pleasant I have no doubt, but is this all I can do to aid you?" "There is one little thing in our domestic arrange- ments that I see will be important-it is regularity about our meals. I ought to be ready by eight o'- clock the year round, to go into my study. But we cannot do much at this, with all your interruptions, until we have help." "We can try," said his wife, "I was trained by the clock, and regularity is habit with me." After a pause, she said in a gentler tone, "You don't know, Henry, how happy it makes me, to feel that God is giving me something to do. I hope you will tell me whenever I can do anything which will be of any use to you or your people. I have no ambition for great deeds, as you know, but it is a comfort to me to have some duties distinctly before me; I can then work on cheerfully day by day, improving every ,I^ THE BREAKFAST-CHAT. 25 opportunity for accomplishing them, which God gives me." "And this very spirit of cheerfulness and hope will be invaluable to me. Many a time it will raise a drooping wing, for I am somewhat easily dis- pirited." Emily gave him a look full of affection, and the young minister felt that with her at his side, he ought 'to do his work well. "One thing more," said he, " now while I think of it. I wish you would learn to be an impartial hearer of my preaching. Pass your judgment on my sermons as candidly as you would on those of another man. It will do me good. If you think everything I write, smart, I shall soon be of the same opinion myself." "Ah! now you give me something to do which is not easy," replied she, " you must make allowances for what your wife thinks." : Mr. Edwards had now talked himself into good spirits. "This salary business," said he, "will do me good in one way." "How so?" "Why, if we are to live on nothing, awe shall have nothing of course to lay up for old age --so it will not do to have any old age." "What do you mean? "I have an idea that if the same amount of time and energy which it requires to save money, were expended in disciplining our brains, they would hold out to earn our bread as long as we should want it. Now, I have no prospect of having any capital to retire upon. I must probably, if God gives me health, work while I live. This is an additional in- page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 THE SUNNY SIDE. ducement to me to form studious and industrious habits now. If I allow myself easy work in the morning, where shall I find the strength to toil at eventide?" "I do not think you are in any danger of being indolent," replied his wife; " my greatest fear is, that you will over-work and break down, as so many young ministers do." "It will not do to preach that doctrine to me, Emily. I am in no such danger. 'Hard work, and steady at it,' is the only thing which will make me successful. Now, I foresee, love, that you will be expected to supply all my deficiencies. You will have to visit, and to be visited, and to attend all sorts of societies. I do not feel either, that the people have really any claim upon you for such an outlay of time and strength; but I see, that wherever there is a gap where good may be done, you will be sure to enter it. How you are to meet all these claims, and have so much to do at home besides, I confess, troubles me. I fear it will be taxing you beyond your powers." "My dear Henry," said she, " it is but one thing at a time, and it will all come easily. If God con- tinues to me my health, I need have no fears that I cannot do all He would have me do. Let us trust the future with Him." The blue stars on that straggling branch folded their silken leaves, for the sun was getting high. When this long breakfast-chat was concluded, it was too late for our minister to do much in his study before dinner, that day. ':2 II CHAPTER IV. THE MNISTER'S COMPANY. JOURNAL. "WHAT a busy time I have had of it! We have entertained at our table no less than forty people, this week, and every meal has been prepared by my own hands. It is well for me it does not happen so very often. Yesterday afternoon we had been alone for the first time, about two hours, and were really enjoying it, when I chanced to look out the window, and saw an old gentleman in a yellow gig, with a dusty trunk strapped on behind, just driving into the yard. To tell the truth, I was not glad. I was tired, and Henry and I had promised ourselves so pleasant an evening together. I looked at him and saw him bite his lips - he was disappointed too. The old gentleman got out, slowly ascended the steps, and knocked. Mr. Edwards did not seem 'inclined to answer the call. I felt that I must make the effort. "He is old and feeble," said I hurriedly, trying to smile, " let us take care of him." I invit- ed him in. He was a good old minister, and was on his way to a distant town, to bring home a sick child who was in a decline. He intended to stay with us over night. He seemed very much fatigued, and sat down at once by the fire. Mr. Edwards accordingly went out and put up his horse. This page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 THE SUNNY SIDE. made seven horses which we had lodged and fed in one week. I must confess, it annoyed me. I did not like to have Henry's time taken up with it; in- deed I did not think it exactly proper that he should turn hostler so often; but I tried to put it out of my thoughts. I brightened up the fire, and gave the old gentleman a pair of slippers, and made him as comfortable as I could, and he looked so pleased and contented that I went cheerfully to prepare his tea. He retired very early, so that after -all Henry and I had the evening quite to ourselves. Perhaps the consciousness that we had made a great effort to entertain the stranger added to our enjoyment. We had then a long talk about this visiting among ministers. "We cannot live at this rate, Emily," said he, "that is a settled matter. You look now completely worn out, and I have made up my mind not to have it go on so aiy longer. We must have help. You cai at least have a little girl to save you steps. As for nmyself, I will not be hostler any longer. Now for this whole week I have not been able to go into my study until after ten, because I have had horses to harness and visitors to see off. We must either give up entertaining horses, or sell Prince, for, to say nothing of the trouble, we cannot afford to keep both. If the people do not make up the salary this year, we shall run in debt; and once in debt, I see nro hope of ever getting out." "I have been thinking,' said I, that we had better tell our friends plainly that we cannot conve- niently keep their horses. The tavern is near by, and they can drive over there. I am not willing to have you troubled with it, neither do I think it is Vi WTHE MNISTER'S COMPANY. 29 exactly appropriate that you should attend to it. But to our house and our table, Henry, let us make, these poor ministers welcome, and share with them what we have." After a few minutes' serious thought, he said gravely, "A minister's salary ought to be large enough to enable him to travel when 'he needs it, and put up at a hotel, as other men do. He ought not to be obliged to stop at a brother minister's house to save himself a sixpence." "But if we cannot make their salaries larger?" --said I. "Then," replied he, " we must entertain them just as you have done; and may they never get worse fare." -I received an expression of approba- tion which quite repaid me for my fatigue. The next morning, our visitor rose before we had thought of stirring, and I heard him go down into the parlor and build a fire. Supposing he was anxious to be on his way, I immediately rose, kindled my kitchen-fire, and set the table. The morning was dark and cold; it was almost an hour earlier than Io was accustomed to rise, so that I really made a good deal of effort, for me. I prepared as nice a break- fast as I could, for our old friend. I baked hot bis- cuit and made an extra cup of coffee-for that dying child was much in my mind, and it seemed as if any little attention to the father was a kindness to her; so I felt quite happy as I stepped briskly about. I shaved down some dried beef which my mother had sent me--cut a plate of cheese, and soon my breakfast was smoking on the table. A blessing was asked and the covers lifted. The old man looked first at one thing and then at another, and seemed dissatisfied. At length he asked, "Have'nt "-?, page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 80 THE SUNNY SIDE. you a bit of fresh meat in the house, you could let me have? I had; so I went and cooked it for him. At first, I had a little struggle with myself to feel just right, but it was soon over. Now I am glad I went, for I believe he is truly a good man, and I may never have an opportunity to do anything more for him. We have had so much company that Mr. Ed- wards has not half finished his first sermon. Ah! this is the worst of it. Now he must exchange, or preach an old one, and I do not feel willing to have him do either. What can I do to save his time? I do not know but that I had better keep a little girl. She can bring in wood and water, and that will save him some odd minutes." CHAPTER V. DEMAND- AND EFFORT. JOURNAL. Monday. "I feel weary to-night, and not much like writing. Mr. Edwards looks jaded out. He sat up half of Saturday night, to finish his sermon, and then preached three times yesterday. I heard that Deacon Jones began to complain because he had no more meetings. I have a little girl, Jane, who works for board and clothing, and I hire a washer-woman besides. She is a member of our church, and a most excel- lent woman; I like to hear her talk. The first day she came to work for me, I did not know exactly what to do. I did not know whether I should be expected to ask her to sit down to the table with us, or not; so I stepped softly into the study, for I thought it urgent business. "Henry," said I, " shall I ask her to eat with us?" "Who?" said he, look- ing up. "Why, the washer-woman. I want to do just the right thing; now, what shall!"do?"He burst out laughing, and told me, "I could judge as well as he he knew nothing about it." He did not help me at all. I determined I would keep on the safe side; so when Jane and I had dinner all ready, I went to her and invited her to sit down with us. "No, I thank ye," said she pleasantly, page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 THE SUNNY SIDE. "I am all wet and dirty, and I had rather eat with Jane in the kitchen." I respected her for her good sense. Jane is a nice little girl, and I find she can save me a great many steps. To-day I tried to wash the paint in the parlor, and while I was about it, I had four calls. I wiped the suds frown my hands, and sat down. The calls were mostly on business. I was informed of my appointment to the office of First Directress in the Sewing Circle, and also of the prayer-meetings which are to commence on the first Wednesday of next month. Henry wanders about the house to-day, as if he felt indisposed even to read a newspaper. I set him to tinkering. Tuesday. Some one came this morning, for Mr. Edwards. Widow Green had a stroke of the palsy in the night. She is quite old, and has been feeble a long time; but as it is probable she will linger in this state for some weeks, I thought I would not disturb him. It seemed to me very necessary that he should have his mornings, this week; so I decided to go myself. Now, she lives a mile and a quarter from here. This is something of a walk for me; however, I took it, for I would not call Henry down to harness. I wish Jane and I could learn to har- ness Prince; it would be very convenient in an emergency. I found Widow Green's daughter much distressed. She met me at the door, seized my hand, and burst into tears. I was quite unprepared for this, the old lady was so far advanced in years; but I should have remembered that we never see the time when we feel as if we could part with a mother. I tried to comfort her, but to tell the truth, I did not know what to DEMAND AND EFFORT. 33 say, I found myself wholly unequal to it; I could only sympathize with her. She soon led me up stairs into a pleasant little chamber, which looked towards the setting sun. There in bed, bolstered up, lay the old lady. One arm had fallen powerless at her side, and one corner of her mouth was drawn down slightly -not enough, however, to injure the expression, for she lookeq calm and happy. She raised her other hand, and tried to bid me welcome, but her tongue refused to obey, and after one or two indistinct sounds, she gave it up, but her eye wan- dered to the Bible on the shelf, and I understood that she wished to hear me read. I did so, and then spoke a few words of comfort and sympathy to her and her weeping daughter, promised them Mr. Ed- wards should call in the afternoon, and took my leave. How humbled I felt, as I walked back; how utterly unfit I am to stand by the bedside of the dying. It was quite late when I reached home. I found dinner all ready, and Henry waiting impatiently for me, and claiming the credit of the cookery. I think a great deal about the prayer-meeting. I cannot keep it out of my mind. It is my duty to go, I know, and I cannot excuse myself, without throw- ing a "stumbling-block" in the way of others. I believe these little praying circles are often blessed, and that my example and influence must go towards their support. But what shall I do? I have never in my life prayed in the hearing of another, and to go for the first time before so many, most of them much older than myself, and so much more advanced in their Christian course - I am distressed when I think of it. I sometimes say, ' I cannot do it.' May page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 34 THE SUNNY SIDE. I not plead that I am "slow of speech?"Will God accept this plea? Ah! I fear not. If He gives me then, this cross to bear, shall I seek to escape from it? No-I must take it; I must go; I must do the best I can. Perhaps He will "strengthen me in the hour of need." Do I not know that "He will not try me 'tl e what I am able to bear?" Wednesday. This is an important day to me, and I wish to record its mercies. Through the morning I felt somewhat sad; I could not forget the trial be- fore me. Once or twice I retired to pray for Divine assistance. When the appointed hour arrived, I became much agitated. I believe I had dreaded it so much that my nervous system was affected. With trembling hands I tied on my bonnet and went softly out; I did not wish even to have Henry speak to me. I walked rapidly to Deacon Emery's. I was early; there were only two ladies there. This re- lieved me a little, for we chatted on indifferent mat- ters until more assembled. Mrs. Emery then read a selected portion of the Scriptures and called upon an old lady to lead in prayer. She made an excel- lent prayer. I was quieted by it; it almost seemed as if God had directed her what to say for my com- fort. After this they sang, and I tried to join them, but found I could not, my voice trembled so much. At the close of the singing Mrs. Emery said, " they would like to join with me in prayer." My heart beat violently I could scarcely breathe; but I did not hesitate. I had made up my mind before I came what it was my duty to do. I knelt; I at- tempted to speak-my lips quivered, but I could not utter a sound. There was a deathke stillness for a few seconds; then I burst into a flood of tears DEMAND AND EFFORT. 35 and wept violently. I heard others weeping around me - no one rose. Once more I summoned all my resolution, and this time my voice obeyed me; and God gave me thoughts and feelings and language. It seemed to me I realized His presence and blessing as I had never done before, and when I concluded my prayer, I felt that this struggle was all over. A sweet peace fell upon my heart. How can I be grateful enough to my Heavenly Father that He did not leave me to follow my own sinful inclinations in regard to this matter. Now I can tell Henry about it. How different are my feelings to-night from those of last night! Thursday. I have had a very happy day, I hard- ly know why either, for nothing unusual has hap- pened; Mr. Edwards went punctually to his study at eight, and this always starts the day right. Mother and Martha drove over this morning, to go with me to Society. I mean to'make a business of being punctual and I was there at the appointed minute. This is one of the little virtues, the culti- vation of which I shall be glad to help along, by my example. Henry will not let me be Directress; he thinks that some lady who has less demand upon her time should take it. He is right, I suppose, as he generally is, for it would require much time to fit all the work -more than I, situated as I am, can really command; and I would much rather not hold the office at all, than to hold it only nominally. The ladies were disappointed, and some I fancied dissat- isfied by my refusal, but 1 cannot help it; I must be guided by my own conscience. I mean to go right on and do what seems to me right, and bear the con- sequences. I hope by and by I shall be able so to page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 36 THE SUNNY SIDE. secure their confidence 'that they will be willing to trust me to form my own judgment, as to what is right and proper for me to do. For one thing now, I mean to attend the Society meetings always, if I can. I think, for their social results, it is highly important they should be sustained. Mr. Edwards thought it would be a good plan to have reading a part of the afternoon. The ladies accede to it, because the Pastor proposes it, I imagine, but I fear that this plan will not succeed. There is so much work go- ing on, and so many things wanted, that a reader must be constantly interrupted. Yet I should like -to try it; it would give a little more character to our meetings. I suppose I shall be expected to fur- nish books, and I am sure I shall be puzzled what to select. Light reading it will not do for me to carry, and serious reading will not interest them, and I have not a very extensive library to select from. However, I will do my best, and if I bear it in mind, little interesting items may fall in my way. I can glean something by the way-side. I found, the other day, a very interesting account of Franklin's early life, in an old newspaper which Mother sent me around a ham. I cut it out and put it away care- fully in my Society box. Friday. No studying going on to-day. Henry had to go out, right after breakfast, about five miles to see a dying man, and this afternoon he was called three miles in another direction to marry a couple. It seemed as if he could not spare a day, so near the close of the week. We heard yesterday that Deacon Jones was dissatisfied because he visited so little, and had made some sharp remarks about it. I hope Deacon Jones is a good man; I believe he is, DEMAND AND EFFORT. 387 but it would make a great change in him if he could be a country-minister one year. When he returned to his deaconship, I am quite sure he would be more considerate. It seems to me that Mr. Edwards is laboring hard and faithfully. He has the best good of his people near at heart, and does not spare him- self. I wish they understood how much it'would be for their interest, not to disturb him in the morning. Such a day as this troubles me. Sermon-writing now must come late into Saturday night, and then for haggard looks and low spirits, Monday. Saturday. About ten this morning, .Rev. Mr. Jones, wife, and child, came to spend the Sabbath with us. I was embarrassed when I met him, but soon I told him frankly, that if he would excuse it, I would not call Mr. Edwards down, as he had had a broken week, and was not quite ready for the Sab- bath. I must confess I was relieved when Mr. Jones told me that he was obliged to give up preach- ing himself, for a while, on account of throat trou- bles. Not that I was glad he was ill, of course, but I was glad Henry would not have to invite him into the pulpit. He has had more help of late, than Deacon Jones and Miss Cribby like. I do not know but I am too sensitive about what the people say, but I do want them to love him, for if they do not, he can do them no good. Miss Cribby, now, is a most excellent woman, but she is peculiar. I hope that some time we shall understand each other bet- ter, and yet I find I can get along more easily with her than I did at first. I am sometimes a little sur- prised to see how much I am interested in this peo- ple-how ready I am to excuse their faults and admire their virtues. They seem like a part of our family. page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] CHAPTER VI. PERPLEXITIES AND PURPOSES. ABOUT three years from the last date, we meet our friends again in those quiet woods which overshadow a part of the road between Lynnfield and Weston. They were now riding in a buggy-waggon, which Prince seemed to carry with as much ease as he had carried the chaise---for his additional load was but a light one. Master Harry, though stout, was but a two-yearling, and baby Emma's weight was too lit- tle to be noticed. Mr. and Mrs. Edwards looked somewhat older and graver than when we last saw them here, on their wedding tour. "I wish," said Mnr. Edwards, "L that I could go to Boston, this :fall, to the meeting of the American Board." "Why do not you?" replied his wife. "I had thought of the plan, myself. I really want you to go; it would do you good. You have scarcely been away now in three years. You need the change, and would enjoy those meetings very much." "I know that, love, but where am I to get the money to go with?" "Why, Prince will carry you, and you would put up with my uncle. You would scarcely need any money.' "I have not a dollar I could spare to pay for having my horse kept, after I got there. I declare!" PERPLEXITIES AND PURPOSES, 39 said he, cracking his whip, " tliis is what I call being poor." Mrs. Edwards smiled, but looked in vain for an answering smile. "We could get along beautifully," said she, "-if they would only pay us what is really due ; don't you think so, Henry? "It would be small enough at best," replied he, "but the people are so backward in their payments, it is impossible to get along at all. Quarter-day comes - no salary ready - I must take an order on the stores, or nothing. We must buy even the salt for our porridge at a disadvantage, and I must be always in debt. I really feel ashamed to face some of my own people who have claims on me. They are honest debts, and ought to be paid; but, time after time, I must put them off with the same old story. To tell the truth, I have not a dollar of my own in the world. I have a bill which I borrowed of Deacon Emery just to keep in my pocket-book for an emergency. Things have been in this state now for several months. There is always an excuse for not paying me. I have not bought a book since the first year I was settled. How in the world, Em- ily, you struggle along and keep so cheerful, with all your care and sickness, I cannot imagine. If it had not been for you, I should have given up long ago, in despair." "Why Henry," replied she, "indeed it is really wonderful to see how God has provided for us. Through all our sickness, we had one of the very best physicians, and he, you know, never would take a cent of pay, either for attendance or medicine. Then our children are healthy, and Jane has proved a real treasure; she does almost as much page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 THE SUNNY SIDE. work as a woman. Mother and the girls have quite clothed her, so that she has cost us almost nothing, and I have been able to teach her, evenings. Really Henry, I have almost everything I want. For my- self, I do not mind the salary troubles; it is only on your account I feel them." "It is not right," said he, bursting out like a tor- rent long pent up, "it is morally wrong for this people to be so remiss in this matter. I would rather, to-day, receive one half the amount in ready money, which they give me now in orders; it would be worth more to me. Here we are; we must buy at just such a store, at any price they please to set, and often take a thing which is not what we want, because we can get no other. Then I do not even in this way receive all which they agreed to give me. There is scarcely a family in Weston who live on such small means as we do, and yet we en- tertain more company than all of them put together. Now I suffer from this. I go into my study dis- heartened. . Often when I take up my pen to write, I think of you down stairs, toiling so patiently and cheerfully from morning to night, with your chil- dren in your arms, and I feel that it is my business to relieve you myself, if I cannot afford you relief in any other way. Then when company comes, I sometimes look out and see them driving in, and feel that we have scarcely the bread to give them, and you certainly, neither time nor strength to spend on their entertainment -I confess it unmans me. I often lay down my pen and weep. Anything is 'better than such a life as this, and I will live so no longer-on that I am determined. My usefulness is destroyed. I can do more good digging by the high- PERPLEXITIES AND PURPOSES. 41 way. I have made up my mind to ask for a dis- mission this week. Mrs. Edwards looked up in amazement. She had received no intimation before, of any approach to such a crisis. She hardly knew what to say. "What could you do," she asked at length quiet- ly, "if you were dismissed?" "First, I would sell off everything and raise a lit- tle ready money, and then I would take you and the babies home to my Mother's farm. I can earn your living there, and have time to look about me a little for other employment. Live we must, and if I cannot do it by preaching, I must try teaching. Thank God, 'Every laborer is worthy of his hire."' They rode on some time in silence; at length Mrs. Edwards asked in a gentle tone: "Had we better make so important a move hastily?" "It would not be a hasty move," was his reply. I have thought it all over many and many a time, and looked it through from beginning to end, and my duty now seems to me clear, and my path plain. My resolution is formed. I am not on the whole sorry that I settled here, for I have learned many things by experience, which will be of great use to me hereafter; but it seems to me that my work here is done. As our family expenses increase, our per- plexities increase; and I have to spend so much energy in providing the needful to eat and drink and wear, that I have little left for professional du- ties. My enthusiasm has vanished, my spirits flag my sermons drag, and what I write with little in. terest the people hear with as little. It would be wrong for me to continue this course any, longer." Prince now of his own accord stopped at the door 'i,4 page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 THE SUNNY SIDE. of his old home. Grandmama took the baby, and Aunty the laughing Harry. Mrs. Edwards looked pleased, but a close observer could have detected now and then a sigh. She was thinking of the future. The next morning our friends returned to Weston. What then happened will be related in another chapter. CHAPTER VII. THE COUNCIL. WESTON was taken entirely by surprise, when their pastor asked a dismis ion; and there was a great excitement about it. They could not understand what the difficulty was; for they were quite sure they were satisfied with him; it did not seem to occur to them, that he could be dissatisfied with them. A few ventured to come to head quarters, for some light on this dark subject. They were frankly told, that Mr. Edwards had said all to his people, on the subject of their pecuniary remissness, which he deemed it proper to say; that he could not consent to remain where he must perpetually dun his people for his salary. The council investigated the matter thoroughly, The result was, they censured the people in very plain terms, and refused to dismiss the minister. With this, the people were not offended, for they were really much attached to both their minister and his wife, and by no means willing to part with them. They saw also, that, having been so long without any settled pastor, they had really fallen into loose ways-of doing business. No one had brought them up to the mark. Now they came for- ward, and ,entered into a written agreement of their own accord, that the salary - five hundred a year, in ready money--should be in the hands of the page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] " THE SUNNY SIDE. treasurer, on such a day, subject to Mr. Edwards's order. In addition to this, they would agree to raise another hundred, by voluntary contribution, if they could; and in case they could not, they would yearly give a donation party. This affair brought out warm expressions of attachment, even from Miss Cribby and Deacon Jones; but, notwithstand- ing this, it cost Mr. Edwards a struggle to consent to remain. He was convinced, that nine times out of ten, when a minister has asked a dismission, it is best that he should go; and he also felt that even now, his salary would be too small to meet his ne- cessary expenses. He did not however see his way quite clear to renew his application. "Well, Emily," said he that evening, "I do not see but that we must stay, for the present at least. One good will come from the move - we shall know what to depend upon, though at the best, we shall have a hard row of it." "Perhaps we can meet it as well as any one," replied she. "Some one must live here. There are souls in Weston as precious as elsewhere." "I know that," replied he, " and if I had only myself to care for, I would cheerfully labor here till I die. But I must provide for my family. How are we to educate our children? Why, our shoemaker, over the way, earns more than I do." "I never allow myself an uneasy thought about the children," replied she. "If God spares them to us, and they wish for an education, some way will be provided, I have no doubt. Would it be right to leave what, all things considered, seems a post of duty, to provide for an uncertain future? Would it not seem like a distrust of God's care of us?" THE COUNCIL. 45 "You preach like a minister," said Mr. Edwards, with a smile. "O, Henry," replied she, as the color deepened a little in her cheeks, " indeed I did not mean to preach; I was only saying to you just what came into my heart." "Well, love, here we will stay, unless some new door should be opened, so long as the people will keep to their agreement. We will cheerfully trust our children, ourselves, and the future, in God's hands." page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] CHAPTER VllI. VISIT TO BOSTON. THE new order of things made a most remark- able change in the minister's family. With an un- looked for consideration, Mr. Dodge himself called with the money, on the morning of the day on which the salary was due. Now they could pay as they went along - they contracted no more debts. There was no more borrowing money to fill an empty pocket-book. Sometimes they had an opportunity to send to Boston, and they always improved it, for they could purchase at an advantage there, procur- ing a nicer article for the same price. At the close of the year, it really seemed as if one dollar had gone as far as three had formerly done, when taken in "orders." The Donation-party was also some help, though it was far from being as good for them as the hun- dred dollars would have been in money. They received many things which they would not have bought. Then, it was not exactly pleasant to take as a gift, what was really their due. However, the more intelligent part of the people regarded the thing in the right light, i. e. as a favor, to be allowed to pay a part of the salary in this manner; and felt that they were the party under obligation. Those who did not regard it thus, Mrs. Edwards found it quite VISIT TO BOSTON. 47 easy to get along with. She seemed to get along with almost every body, even with Miss Cribby. The new order of things was felt by the Society also. Their minister came to them no longer with -a troubled countenance, neither did he write for them despondingly. His people said he had never preached better, and this was true. The two ends of the year now met so well, that on the ensuing spring Mr. Edwards again enter- tained the idea of going to Boston to attend the Anniversaries. He had not taken a journey with his wife since their marriage, and he felt that the change and relief from care would be of great service to her. - She, however, objected to going, assigning various reasons and concealing the main one which was in her mind, the additional expense of taking her. Mr. Edwards overruled all these objections, pressed his point, and she consented to accompany him. Then followed the "getting ready,"- a small affair for him, but a great one for her. She had not pur- chased a nice dress for herself since her marriage. Now the relatives with whom she was to stay in Boston, were fashionable people, and she found she had a little feeling about appearing there in such antiquated dress. The old remark, about "coming out of Noah's ark," would find its way into her mind. After a few struggles with herself, she had about made up her mind to go with the best she had, and to feel satisfied with it, when she received very unexpectedly, from the ladies of the parish, a new black silk dress. They, also, had some pride about their minister's wife, and wished her to appear page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 THE SUNNY SIDE. as well as others. With the dress was a little note, enclosing two dollars, with which they asked her to buy a new ribbon for her straw bonnet. This was a well timed present, and Mrs. Edwards was touched by the kind interest which the ladies mani- fested. She was also comforted by it, for she had been a little afraid, that her sensitiveness about her dress, was not altogether right. Her Mother and Martha came over from Lynn- field on so important an occasion as the making of a silk dress, and it was soon done up in good style. The old Dunstable-straw was sewed over yet once more; it was newly bleached to the last degree of faintness, and trimmed with a .fresh, modest, green ribbon. Mrs. Jones brought in, one evening, a little parcel, which she kept tucked under her apron till just as she was going away, then she slipped it un- der the table cover. Martha laughingly opened it, and found a nice new green veil. So our traveller seemed to be all equipped. The children returned with Grandmama to Lynnfield, and everything be- ing ready, the day was fixed for their start. At an early hour, Prince in shining harness stood waiting at the door, and quite a party of interested friends called to see them off. It was a cheerful and pleas- ant group on the steps of the parsonage, and in the midst, quietly and sweetly stood the minister's wife. * Was she not the fac-simile of that image she long ago had in mind? Was she not "very good" and uery thankJul," and dressed even in the "green ribbons " Indeed, her new attire was so becoming, and she appeared so prettily, that her husband looked at her with beaming eyes which well expressed his plea. VISIT TO BOSTON. 49 sure at her improved appearance. The ladies smiled at one another, and felt repaid for all they had done. No one, who -has not once in their lives, taken such a patiently earned journey, can fully under- stand how much Mr. and Mrs. Edwards enjoyed. They seemed almost to have entered a new world. Everything interested them; the light and shade, the waving trees, the ever changing landscape, rocks and birds and flowers, farms and fruit orchards, alike attracted their attention. They talked incessantly, time flew, and before they were ready for it, Prince had brought them within sight of the State House dome. Soon, they were making their way through the narrow streets of Boston, and then were at Mr. Harwood's door. So quickly had they come, they could scarcely realize it. It seemedalmost like a dream, yet how easily it had all been accomplished! With some trepidation Mrs. Edwards followed her husband up those large graniteI steps, which, with the house, seemed quite imposing. Their ring was immediately answered, and they were ushered into a handsome drawing-room. Mr. and Mrs. Har- wood met their niece so cordially that it reas- sured her, and quite at her ease again, in her sim- ple natural way, she introduced Mr. Edwards to them. Their hospitable relatives did everything in their power to make them feel at home. Their house was filled with guests, and Mrs. Edwards soon found that her very retired life had in some respects been a disadvantage to her. She was embarrassed in general society. She had been out of it so long, that she had almost forgotten how to act. Among their own people, where she was so much looked page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 THE SUNNY SIDE. up to, she was quite at her ease, and could talk; but to be among strangers, in a mixed party, placed her in such new relations as to embarrass her. It must be said, however, that these new cir- . cumstances, though they made her silent, yet did J not make her awkward, for she was truly modest and assumed nothing on the ground of being a minister's wife. When she did converse, there was something in her manner which was winning and gentle, and which made friends. As to those customs of fash- ionable life to which she had been so long unused, she met them in a quiet, observant way, which shielded her alike, from blunder or notice. That she was too silent, is however only partial- ly true. When religious topics were introduced she expressed thoughts and opinions, and showed more of general information and cultivation than one would have been led to expect. True, since her marriage, she had found but little time to read, but she had made the most of what she had read. She never forgot anything worth remembering, and seemed to deposit what she learned in its right place, and appropriate it to its proper subject. The truth was, when she read, it was for the people as well as herself. She made a point of studying her Bible daily-and who can do this without intellec- tual as well as spiritual improvement? Her practice ? of journalizing and writing occasionally had contrib- 1 uted also to give her command of language. Mr. Edwards was at home at once, among the i ministers. He was interested and excited through the whole week. It was enough to do one's heart j good, to see how much our friends enjoyed.- : They attended the meetings-they shopped to- VISIT TO BOSTON. 51 gether -they stepped into bookstores. Here, after turning it all over in their minds, they purchased a few, a very few books. How rich they felt with their treasure, all tied in a paper parcel, which Mr. Edwards easily carried under his arm! After a little more good planning, Mr. Edwards decided to subscribe for a Theological Review. He felt the real necessity of keeping abreast with the literary and religious world, as he had not done before since his settlement. The week in Boston seemed to fly. The Anni- versary meetings came to a close, and Mr. and Mrs. Edwards, refreshed in body and mind -rich with news and their few purchases--all important to them, turned their faces homeward. Not a cloud came over the sky---the air was mild and balmy- nature seemed to sympathize with their quiet joy. Prince was in fine order; indeed, like his master, hef seemed to have grown young again. He was not long in leaving the old State House far behind him, and in time for an early tea, he stopped at the door of the parsonage in Weston. page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] CHAPTER IX. PRESENTS. FROM THE JOURNAL. Nov. This morning Mr. Dodge stopped here. He did not get out of the sleigh, but rapped on the fence with his whip handle. I sent Jane out to him. "Tell your folks," said he, " if they will send a basket up to my house, I will give them some sweet potatoes." I was quite pleased, for it is a long time since I had seen a sweet potatoe. I sent Jane, but took good care to select the smallest basket I had, which was at all suitable. Mr. Edwards laughed out when I gave it to her. "I don't wish him to rob himself," said I, half apologetically. I received no reply; Mr. Edwards returned to his newspaper, though I could easily see a curious smile lurking still, around the corners of his mouth. Jane was gone only a few minutes, as Mr. Dodge lives quite near us. When I saw her returning I went out to meet her in the entry. I thought perhaps it would be as well to take the potatoes quietly into the kitchen, and let Mr. Ed- wards finish his paper; but he called out to her, to 'bring them in.' The basket was but half filled, and most of those were specked! Mr. Edwards looked a little angry. I laughed. PRESENTS. 53 "You see," said I, "Iwas right in the selection of my basket; but here is enough to give us a little taste. You may take them out, Jane." Mr. Edwards was a little angry. He is very sen- sitive about receiving presents. I do not think our Donation-parties are altogether agreeable to him. He does not like to be put under obligation for what is justly his due. I wish the people would feel as if they could dispense with them, and raise the money, it would be so much better for us. If Mr. Dodge would only do his duty, they could raise it easily-but money comes hard from him.. I do not mean to complain of the people in general, for I think they have been exceedingly generous and at- tentive to us. They do the best they can, and for the most part cheerfully, I think. I do not remem- ber having my feelings pained, but once. Before Harry's birth, I had many little things sent in to me. I was calling on a lady, one day, and I spoke of the presents which I had received, of their value to me, and of my appreciation of the kindness which prompted it. She replied, suddenly, and to me it seemed sharply. "Well, Hdidn't send you nothing, Miss Edwards. Ithink, charity begins at home-- and it is my duty to see first that my own children have clothes." I was so taken by surprise, I did not know what to say. My feelings were hurt. It was with difficult y I could restrain my tears. If I had known that she had sent nothing, of course I should not have spoken - but I had attributed some anonymous presents to her, and wished to notice them in this way. However, she is a good woman, and I don't suppose she meant to hurt my feelings. April. How long it is since I have written in page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 THE SUNNY SIDE. my journal! We have had a very trying winter. God has seen fit to send sickness among us. In January, our dear little Kate was born. We had been at so much expense, previously, that I dismissed my nurse earlier than I am used to doing, and I think I over-exerted myself before I got my strength up, for my work had run behind hand, and there was really a great deal to be done. I must have taken some cold, also, for I had a severe illness, and was confined to my room two months. I am now but just able to sit up and do a little light work in my chamber. Henry, dear boy, is a great comfort to me. He is a mother-boy. I hardly know how I could get along without him. He is but little more than six years old, but he does the work of a boy of ten. He brings in all my wood, and builds the fires, and looks after the little ones. Dear little fellow! I have had to keep him out of school, now, for a month; I regret it very much, but it cannot be helped. He leads Emma and George every morning, and goes for them at night, and he tends the baby. I think little Kate begins to know him already. He tends her almost as well as I do. It is curious to see him sitting in his little rocking chair, singing to her. How much we have to be grateful for! True, we are poor, as this world goes, but we are rich in our children. God -has given us a world of comfort and hope now in Henry. Then there is Emma, her father's child, noisy, and talkative, and lively, doingt all she can to keep us in good cheer. George seems to be more quiet and gentle. In the midst of my sick- ness, they all had the measles. Mr. Edwards took them into the study, and took care of them himself. May. It is so delightful, this morning, I think PRESENTS. 55 I shall venture to ride out with little Kate. Prince is so gentle, it will be no trouble to drive him.-- I will not let Mr. Edwards go with me, as he has been much disturbed of late. His habits of study have been broken up, and I see he finds it diffi- cult to resume them. A great deal of miscella- neous business has accumulated on his hands. His people have been considerate, and certainly very kind. Mrs. Jones, in particular, insisted upon sit- tingc up night after night. I used to think then, that I could overlook all the Deacon's faults for her sake; but how little we know of our own hearts. Now it was only last week, that I lost my patience wholly, with him. He came in oie evening, after we were beginning to look up a little, and gave Mr. Edwards a regular scolding. He told him " his church was in a cold state, they were almost dead, and some- thing must be done to get up a revival, or they should all go down." He is really unfortunate in his man- ner of expressing himself; even when he does not mean to be unamiable, he appears quarrelsome and threatening. After these private interviews, Mr. Edwards is often silent; last week he was quite depressed; he began to think there must be some general dissatis- faction in the Society, and that Deacon Jones's call was not entirely of his own accord. But I think if this was the case, 1 should certainly hear of it from Miss Cribby, for she keeps me duly informed of all which goes wrong, so I have made up my mind not to be troubled about it. When God disables us by sick- ness, it is wrong to fret because we cannot be " up and doing." I will go out now to enjoy this beau- tiful day; it will do little Kate good. page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 56 THE SUNNY SIDE. June. This afternoon, Deacon Emery called. His benevolent, pleasant, good face, is a real cordial. I feel, when I am by him, that I am near a friend; and a true friend he has indeed been to us. I love him with all my heart. He made us a pleasant call; I saw he had a bundle under each arm, which, as he rose to go, he put down on the table. '"I noticed, Sir," said he to Mr. Edwards, "that you had no standard works of history in your library, and as your children are getting to be readers now, you may find these useful." He had brought a complete set of Hume and Smollett. Mr. Edwards was very much pleased, and so was I. We fancied, and righltly I imagine, that he had in some way heard of Deacon Jones's fault-finding call, and wished to do away any wrong impressions which he might have made, for he spoke with unusual cheerfulness and warmth about the prosperity of the church, and took special pains to specify individual cases where attention had been awakened by some particular sermons. The tears came into my eyes, and I could not refrain from thanking him by a warm pressure of the hand. Just before Deacon Emery came in, Mr. Edwards had been talking about leaving Weston. Said he: "I have now been here ten years, and I do not know but I have done my work for this people. A new order of things, perhaps, would give them a new start." I think it has been a cherished opinion of his, that ten years is about as long as a man ought to stay in one place. "Would you seek for a larger place?"I inquired. I was sorry I had asked the question. He did not immediately reply. He walked the room silently, and when' he did speak, it was in a sorrowful tone. PRESENTS. 57 "I do not know that I could fill a more important place, Emily. I know that I have not advanced, as ten years ago I meant to do. I have fallen below my mark. Too much energy and time has been spent simply in contriving how to live year by year. I have not been able to buy books, or to travel about and find out what other men are doing, and I have had very little to excite my ambition for study. Then my people have required a great deal of pas- toral duty, and they would have it even if it inter- fered with the preaching; so here I am. I am yet in the prime of life, but my habits of study and thought are now formed, and have been formed un- der such circumstances as these, and I have no rea- son to think I shall ever do, or be, much more than I am now. No, when we leave Weston, if I am wise, I shall seek only another retired field of labor." It pained me very much to hear him speak in this manner; I knew that he was unjust to himself; he had been a faithful, hard-working pastor. "Perhaps," said I, "in the course which you marked out for yourself, there may have been an unsanctified ambition which God would not accept, and though you may not have accomplished your own plans, you may have done more for Him, in the way he has led you." "And there I must rest, love," said he. "Cer- tainly the way has never yet been opened for me to leave Weston, though the small salary here has been a great disadvantage to me every way. Why, you see how much of my time it takes to teach my boys. I cannot afford to send them away to school, and if they are ever fitted for college, I must fit them. We must give them an education; it is all we can do for page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 THE SUNNY SIDE. them." Here, as I have already written, Deacon Emery called. After he had left the parlor, Mr. Edwards asked him into the study, and had a long talk with him. Aug. The question has once more been agitated, whether to go or stay. Mr. Edwards finds now, that he has taken such deep root in the hearts of the people, that he cannot tear himself away, with- out violence. Probably, he will never again- at- tempt it. He has made up his mind now to live, and labor, and die here, if God sees best. I am content. I love Weston--I love his people. Here have all my children been born; no other spot could be so dear. CHAPTER X. HARD TIMES. SEVERAL years' later in the history of our minis- ter's family, we find them at a period of their great- est pressure. Now, there are seven children- four boys and three girls, to be fed, clothed and ed- ucated, on five hundred -a year and presents. Mr. Edwards with great perseverance and at some professional sacrifice, had managed to fit the two eldest boys for college. Henry was nearly sixteen, was an ambitious boy, and a good scholar. He had not as yet given any evidence of piety. Next in order to him was Emma, a discreet, amiable, ma- tronly girl, who was a great help to her mother. She had been kept at the Weston High School, which was sometimes well and sometimes badly managed; and in addition to this, her father had encouraged her studying with her brothers, so that she had thus far been well educated. Next to her, came George, who seemed to like anything better than study. Then followed the sprightly and beau- tiful Kate, then Susan, who was mother all over again; then John, who was about like other boys, and Jamie the baby and pet--all these to be pro- vided for, with the short, scanty purse. It was really wonderful to see how it held out. They-never went hungry. True, neither tea, cof- fee nor sugar was seen on their table, but there was page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 THE SUNNY SIDE. plenty of fresh, sweet milk. Meat was a rarity, but there was no lack of hasty-pudding and bean por- ridge, pea-soup and potatoes. Poultry in abund- ance too at Thanksgiving, and a fine pig killed about Christmas. The little farm which the stout boys helped work, furnished their vegetables, and fed Prince, while their fruit trees sometimes brought them in a little money. Of cakes, pies and pre- serves, they seldom tasted; notwithstanding which their cheeks were as rosy and their complexion as fair, as those who fed sumptuously every day. In their dress, however, their narrow income was more perceptible. Garments were handed down from one to another-turned upside down and inside out - patched and re-patched, and worn as long as they could be made tidily to hold together. Home- ly and out of fashion their clothing necessarily was, often, but never ragged or dirty. It took so much cloth to cover them, both boys and girls grew so fast, that what was purchased, could only be of cheap material. Sometimes, Mrs. Edwards wished that for their sakes, she could afford to dress them a little better, but then again, true to her confidence in God, she felt quite convinced, that God had given them everything which it was best for them to have. To make the most of this, however, she toiled incessantly. She turned her hand to everything. Often she felt obliged to steal time from sleep, and she would sit up late, cutting and contriving, making and fitting. An old coat, perhaps, of Mr. Edwards's, must make a Sunday jacket, good as new, for one of the boys, or a dress of Aunty's must be made over for the third or fourth time, now, for the baby. While HARD TIMES. 61 thus occupied, particularly- if alone, it was her habit to sing in a low, sweet voice, her favorite hymns one of which was: "Sweet was the time when first I felt," etc. To her family she always appeared quiet and happy, and they never realized how constantly she exerted herself. Notwithstanding her home cares, her so- dom vacant at the prayer meetings, and she seemed always ready to answer a call of poverty or sickness, It was wonderful, how much she accomplished with feeble health too, and yet she did her work so qui- etly, and naturally, that her labors were appre- ciated only by their results. page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] CHAPTER XI. GOING TO COLLEGE. THE time came when our minister's family was to be broken in upon, and the nestlings to scatter. Henry was. about to enter college. 'Every nerve -had been strained to fit him out. At their last Do- nation-party, one little thing had occurred, which Mrs. Edwards loved to regard as a special Provi- dence. It was this: a whole piece of cotton cloth had been given them, for the first time, and it ex- actly met their necessities. One afternoon, while Mrs. Edwards, Emma, and Kate, were sewing busily, making it up into shirts, Miss Cribby called. "Always find you at work, here," said she; i" wish some folks in the parish would take pattern by ye; they'd be better off." "We are fitting Henry out," said Mrs. Edwards, smiling, " he enters college, this fall." "Enters college! Why, bless me! isn't he too young?" "No; he is about sixteen." "Sixteen! well, I never! how time does fly away with one. It does not seem but yesterday that he was born. How pretty he looked when he was bap- tized. Little toad! I felt as if I wanted to give him a good shaking." Kate, by this time, had unloaded the rocking GOING TO COLLEGE. 63 chair; and, placing it by the window, she invited Miss Cribby to sit down. "Well, I don't care if I do," was the reply; " how I much have you got to do, Mrs. Edwards, to fix him off?" I' T^We have just commenced! on his shirts, but I intend-to keep Emma and Kate at home for a little while, and I think we shall get along nicely." "Dear me! why on earth now can't some of the folks come in and give you a lift? They might, just as well as not. I do wonder why nobody ever seems to think of such things, but me. I'd take hold, my- self, if I had any eyes." "I think we shall get through in season." "Now, that is because you are always afraid of troubling other people, Mrs. Edwards. I don't see no sense in it." Miss Cribby soon rose, made rather an awkward apology for her short call, and took her leave. Miss Cribby had a notion in her head. First, she went to Deacon Emery's to tell the news. "Henry Ed- wards was going to college in a fortnight, and Mrs. Edwards had a world of sewing to do, to get him fixed out; and for her part, she thought it was a sin and a shame for them to stand by and see her work- ing herself to death, and never offer to give her a lift." Thus went Miss Cribby from house to house, scolding some, coaxing others, and inviting all to a Sewing Bee the next afternoon, at the minister's, giving them as a last charge, "Mind ye, now, and bring your own victuals." Miss Cribby's Bee was a very large one, and was really a great help. Particularly so was it to little page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] " THE SUNNY SIDE. Kate, for a great part of the fine stitching was done. This she had intended to do, herself. Dear child! she meant to stitch Henry's linen everywhere where it was suitable; for she felt as if nothing could be too nice for him to go to college with. Mrs. Edwards was so very careful never to seem to demand assistance from their people, that it was cheerfully offered. This is not always the case. Sometimes assistance is given reluctantly. The ladies who are pressedrwith their own sewing, feel that it is rather hard they should be called upon to sew for the minister's wife. Do not yield to these feelings, my friend. Go and help her gladly, and be sure this act will find a place in that golden line with the "cup of cold water." You do not know how much she has to do with her time, and never will, unless you are a faithful minister's wife, your- self. Assist her all you can, you may still feel that you receive quite as much as you give - though you may not always trace it directly to her. Were you comforted and strengthened by the sermon, last Sabbath morning? Had not your minister's wife left all her Saturday's mending, and gone in and sat down five different times with callers, it would not have been iis'hed. Did you enjoy much at the last prayer meeting, because your minister was there with all his heart in it? Had not his wife staid at home, and after a hard-day's work, rocked and nursed and walked about with the teething child, he could not have been present. If you think your minister's wife has an easy life of it, you are mis- taken. If you think, with all its toils she finds much to enjoy in it, you are right. But, to return to. our story. Miss Cribby, not GOING TO COLLEGE. 65 satisfied with her Bee, went to work to see what else she could do. Going about from one to an- other, and finally ending off with Mr. Dodge, with whom she had a regular siege, she accomplished her object, and collected ten dollars in money. One morning she came to the parsonage at breakfast time, but entered without ceremony, as usual. She seemed embarrassed- something new for her. Mr. Edwards asked her to sit down. "No, she couldn't stop; she only wanted to know how they all were, ard how they got along, and if they were most through, and if they didn't want some more help about the sewing." She was duly informed on these points, and then there was a pause. "I may as well tell on't first as last," said Miss Cribby, trying to keep back some awkward tears, "May be this'll help you some at this pull, and if it does, I'm paid, that's all;' She laid the roll of bills on Mr. Edwards's plate, walked out of the room fast as she could go, and, in the gladness of her heart, cried all the way home. Ten dolars ten dollars I The children crowded around to look at it. "Only think, Henry," said Kate, "ten dollyf! why, it will most carry you through college": This was indeed timely aid; and when the min- ister and his family knelt in prayer, both gift and giver were remembered with gratitude. page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] CHAPTER XII THE PACKING. HENRY'S first new suit of broadcloth, which was to be paid for at some future time, arrived. He put it on and walked proudly about. His father and mother looked at him but were silent. It seemed as if they now realized for the first time, that he was getting on into manhood - that he was to leave them--that he was very dear to them. The chil- dren, noisy in their love, clambered about him, all but George, who now beginning to think himself al- most a man, stood at a distance, to pass his judgment coolly. "I think," said he, "it's pretty well done for a country tailor. You'll pass muster, I guess, Harry. You' 11 be dressed as well as any of them at any rate." IKate looked upon him with her sparkling blue eyes. "He will be the handsomest man in all col- lege, I know that." - "'Kate, don't be silly," said Emma, "you'll make him vain if you tell him so; handsome is that hand- some does." "I hope he will be the best man in college," said his father. "Have you nothing to say, mother?" inquired Henry, turning to her. "I like your clothes, my son, they fit well." THE PACKING. 67 "Well, must'nt he be good, to pay for it, mother?" said John. "Yes," said mama. She approached Henry and kissed him fondly. Henry knew her well enough, to understand that her heart was full, and that her first desire for him she would not express at so noisy a time. At length, all Henry's sewing was finished. Mrs. Edwards rejoiced on Kate's account, for it seemed as if the child would make herself ill. She would sit there, near the window, by the hour together, with her sampler in her lap, stitching in, on one thread, on all the linen, "Henry Edwards," in full. She had an idea that college was a bad place, and he might possibly lose some of his precious property, if it were not well marked. Then came the packing. Now the old trunk, which Mr. Edwards himself had carried to college, was brought down from the garret into the kitchen. Emma sat down very quietly on the floor by it, and began to rub up the tarnished brass nails. No one paid much attention to her, excepting George, who, seeing what was to come of it, slipped out the back- door, ran over to the shoemakers, and obtained some strips of red leather. When he returned, the nails were shining like stars, and, Henry Edwards, twin- kled out on the cover like a new constellation. This threw the rest of the children into quite a fever about making a new trunk of the old one. Kate, with a huge pair of shears which made deep blue dents in her delicate fingers, must needs point all the strips of leather. Then the boys would try their skill with blacking and brush. At length, after a good morning's work, the trunk suited all. Even page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 THE SUNNY SIDE. Mr. Edwards was obliged to confess that it looked about as well as when he first took it. This trunk was large, and Henry's wardrobe at best but scanty, yet in one way and another it was filled. Each child had a little present for him. Johnny had picked out a bag full of nut-meats. Suzy had a budget of nice pen-wipers and holders, Kate had quilted him a pair of slippers, stitching in the leaves and flowers. Emma filled a box' with good substantial doughnuts. George owned a port- folio, a birth-day gift - this he cheerfully placed by the other presents. A new penknife was there too, from his father, but nothing there from his mother, yet. The last article was in, and no excuse offered for lingering longer over the packing. Kate had smoothed each article, even to her own satisfaction, and Emma was quite convinced that no book could rub the new suit now, "Come, children," said Mr. Edwards, " it is get- ting late; we will have prayers. Henry must be off, bright and early, you know." The children fol- lowed him into the sitting-room. "Father," said Emma, " may we sing 'The voice of free grace' to-night?" "Yes, do, father," said Kate, 'that's Henry's tune. u It will be pleasant to sing it all together once more/' said Mrs. Edwards. All sang, and yet among so many voices, there was one, harmonious, yet clear and distinct from the others; it was to this chiefly the mother listened, for it was Henry's. After the singing they knelt in prayer. Henry THE PACKING. 69 did not always listen to prayer, but this night he did not lose a single word. His father prayed for him. Henry was startled by the earnestness with- which he seemed to wrestle with God for a blessing on his boy. How he prayed that God would keep watch over him, and preserve him in the midst of temptations and dangers to which he would be ex- posed. Henry seemed for the first time to realize that he needed other strength than his own to ' keep him from the evil,' and he sincerely wished, that God would be his friend. At the close, his father briefly alluded to this first family separation. Henry heard a stifled sob from Kate, who was kneeling by him, and it required a very manly effort to control his own feelings. They rose, exchanged a good night and kiss. "I shall be up--and!"- they would not now say, good-by. Henry slept alone in the little bed-room which opened into the kitchen. After he had retired and extinguished his candle, he heard the latch of his door gently lifted, and his mother entered. "Henry," said she, "are you asleep?" "No, mother." She came and sat on his bed. "My son," said she," I have not given you my present, yet; I wish- ed to wait until you were alone. Here it is, Henry; it is the best of all books which I have chosen, and I have written your name in it, and also a verse, which expresses my heart's desire for you. Will you read this Bible every day) Henry, for your mother's sake?" He could not immediately reply. "I bought as handsome a one as I could, Henry. I did not know but it would be more pleasant for page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 THE SUNNY SIDE. you to have it lie on your study-table, if it were well bound. It is an English Bible - see - do you like it?" Henry held it under the candle, and turned it over, but he could not speak a word. (c My dear boy," said she, throwing her arms af- fectionately around him, "I feel as if I must tell you, before you leave me, what a comfort you have always been to me; you may like to think of it when you are away. I have depended upon you a great deal, Henry. You are my first born, and from your baby-hood until now, you have always been dutiful and considerate towards your mother. You have been a good son. I do not think I have ever felt impatient with you more than once or twice in your life; but I want you to forget thatc:h And now, my boy, if you were a Christian, it seems to me I should have no wish ungratified about you. In the excitement of your college life, you will not forget the wish which lies nearest your mother's heart - will you?" Henry dared not speak. "1 Mother shall miss you sadly, son'y boy; but then it is all right," said she, speaking quickly and cheerfully, " vacation will soon be here, and then we shall have you home again. Good night. I will put the Bible in your trunk. Good night. Go to sleep, quick as you can." She closed the door. Henry could control him- self no longer. He buried his head in the bed- clothes, and wept like a child. His mother's fare- well had unmanned him -he was still a mother- boy, if he was fitted for college. Gradually, how- ever, he became more quiet, and began to form THE PACKING. 71 plans for the future. He determined that he would sweep all before him- in college--that he would graduate with the highest honors--,that he would have his mother there, all dressed up so handsome- ly, and she would be so proud and so happy. Then he was rising fast in his profession, and making money fast - he was a rich man, and his mother- rode in her carriage, and had plenty of servants - then soothed by his golden visions, he fell asleep. He had quite lost sight of the wish which lay nearest his mother's heart. In his plans for making her happy, he had already left out the only thing which could do so - his conversion. page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] CHAPTER XITT. TROUBLES. GEORGE gave his parents anxiety. He was rest. less, fond of wild freaks, and not of his books. After Henry's departure, most of the chores about home fell to him, and for the first time his mother had trouble in getting them properly attended to. George began also to complain of Weston: "It was a dull, stupid place; he wished he could go out and see a little of the world." His father proposed that he should give up study, and go into a store; but this proposal did not please him. He wished to go through College, and study medicine. "Nothing," he said, " would tempt him to be a minister; he had seen enough of that life." One evening, his father and mother were kept up quite late, waiting for him. He had been absent all day, and no one knew where he had gone. "What shall we do with him?" said Mr. Edwards, as he paced the room. "I never shall dare send him to college - he is so easily led astray; and he is so bent on going, I am afraid he will never do any- thing any where else." "I have been thinking, lately," replied Mrs. Ed- waxds, "that perhaps the child really needs some change. He has lived here all his life, and gone the same round, year after year, and his restless, active temperament, finds little vent here. I wish TROUBLES. 73 we could send him away for six months or a year; it would almost be the saving of the boy." "I know that," said Mr. Edwards, " it is just what he needs, but just what we cannot do. We are straining every nerve, now, to keep Henry along. "Yes, that is true, but I have thought it all over, and I cannot help hoping and expecting, that if it is really necessary the dear child should go, God will in some way open a door for us. We can be on the look out for opportunities which He may throw in our way." After this conversation, Mr. Edwards, bearing the thing in mind, made inquiries about the neigh- boring schools, and expressed his wishes to one or two of his brother ministers. It-was not long before he received a letter from an old class-mate who was then Principal of an Academy, and who had a son in delicate health, whom he wished to send out into the country where he could study a little, and work in the open air as his strength would allow. He proposed to Mr. Ed- wards that they should make an exchange of boys. Mrs. Edwards's hopeful spirit was prophetic. This was just the chance for George, and it seemed provided at the right time. They determined im- nmediately to accept it. Then he must be fitted out. But here a new trouble arose; there was nothing to fit him out with. The clothing which he had, though clean and whole, was not really suitable to be worn among well dressed boys in a large village Academy. His mother knew that he would be mor- tified and made unhappy by it. She thought about it day and night--she devised plan after plan-- none would succeed without money, and money page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 THE SUNNY SIDE. there was not. She went again and again to her closets -hoping some article might have been over- looked - but no, they had been too thoroughly ran- sacked before. Not a coat nor pair of pants was left to be made over; even the last old stock-frame had been re-covered for Henry. "We cannot do it," said she with a sigh, "unless we run in debt or deprive the other children of ne- cessary clothing." "It must indeed be a desperate case which you give up," said Mr. Edwards; "you have dressed your boys so long out of nothing, that I never thought of this proving a serious obstacle. I am sorry indeed, but fortunately, I have not told George, so that he will not be disappointed. I will write Mr. Hardy that we cannot make it out this year." "He did not wish him to come until Spring?" said Mrs. Edwards. "No." "Can we not, then, defer giving a definite answer until the first of March?" "O yes, but we should be no better off then." "I do not know," said Mrs. Edwards, "I cannot help hoping something will turn up; we may save him one suit by that time out of something. Our Donation-party is yet to come, and you remember our cotton cloth last year. That really seemed like a special Providence." "Well," said Mr. Edwards with a smile, " it is, 'Hope on, hope ever,' with you; it shall be as you wish. I will write brother Hardy that we like the plan exceedingly, and if we can make it out, will let him know definitely, early in the Spring. In the TROUBLES. 75 mean time I think we had better be careful not to let George hear of it. In due time, came the somewhat anxiously-ex- pected Donation party. What was given proved to be rather less in value than it had previously been; some might have remembered that Miss Cribby had called upon them in the Autumn. Af- ter the party, Mrs. Edwards went anxiously round to examine the gifts. Alas! there was nothing to help her any about George-nothing at all. Not a dollar in money had-been given. She felt disap- pointed; she had depended upon aid from this source. She sighed as she came to ,the conclusion, that from their already contracted expenses, one suit of clothes more must in some way be saved. In the mean time they heard often from Henry. He soon recovered from his homesickness, and wrote in high spirits. He was full of ambitious hopes, and, from his own account, seemed to be hard at work. During the term his tutor wrote once to Mr. Edwards, and spoke of Henry in the highest terms. He had taken the first rank in his class. page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] CHAPTER XIV. HOPING ON. JOURNAL. "T has cost me a struggle to feel reconciled to my disappointment about George. He is a bright boy, I trust with good principles and a kind heart; yet he is wild and restless, and easily led astray. He wants firmness of character. Mr. Hardy made us a fine offer; it seemed to be just the place for- him, but we really have not a dollar to spend on his outfit. It takes all we can spare to keep Henry along, as we wish to run in debt as little as possible. It seems to me I never realized as I do now, that we are poor. After my disappointment about' the do- nation-party, I found myself often wondering if we could not find a place to live where they would give a better salary. We are seeing our hardest times; if we ever need money it is now, while we are edu- cating our children. Perhaps earlier in life I ought to have acceded to Mr. Edwards's desire to leave; yet then I could never make it seem clearly the path of duty, and why should I regret our decision? Was it easier to trust my children to God's care when they were young than it is now, as they begin to leave us? No, I do trust Him, and, for the most part, my heart is peaceful. I will leave my erring boy with Him. He will do for him what is best. , Henry is getting along remarkably well. I am more than satisfied. When he writes, particularly to me, I go away alone to read his letters. I am so HOPING ON. " happy, it is a relief to weep. I think it is unusual for a boy to retain so tender a regard for his mother as Henry does. He is studying very hard, his tutor tells us. He wishes to have me proud of him. I must watch my own heart here. If I do not really feel-that to be truly great one must be truly good, I shall fail in making him believe it. He means to teach in his long vacations, and is looking forward to the law as a profession. I hope I may live to see him a minister. He is the firstling of the flock, and in a peculiar manner was consecrated to God. The conversion of our children, is our first object; for this chiefly, we labor and pray; all else regarding them is, I trust, but secondary with us. Emma is a great comfort; we have good reason to hope that she has experienced a change of heart. She wishes to unite with our church, and I think will do so, in Henry's vacation. Her father hopes to have us all together then. Kate, I can see, thinks and feels much, though she says but little. To me she ap- pears, as if she already indulged a tremble hope that she is a child of God and yet feared to express it. She is gay and lively in her temperament, and per- haps is afraid she might bring a reproach upon the profession of a Christian. Her tender conscience will, I trust, prove a safeguard to her; for we can but see that she is growing more and more beautiful every day, though as yet, she does not seem to know it. Suzy is very sweet tempered. O! we have a X world of comfort in our children. I am astonished when I look back and see how much God has ena- bled us to do for them, with such limited means. We have every reason to trust Him with the future, and I will put away all my anxieties about George. page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] CHAPTER XV. THE FIRST WELCOME HOME. AT the parsonage, the great event to be looked forward to, was Henry's vacation. The children counted the weeks-but Time kept on his steady jog, neither hastening nor loitering, and soon brought them where they reckoned by days, then by hours, when Henry would be among them. "Do eat your breakfast, Kate," said Mr. Edwards, "there is no hurry. He cannot reach here before six, and the travelling is so bad, I presume it will be seven or after." "I am not hungry, father," said Kate. "I guess they will come fast, to-night, papa," said Susan, "because brother Henry will whip up the horses." "Most likely he will take the reins himself," said John, " and then the way he'll cut the horses up hill and down, I tell you, won't be slow. I wish I were on the box with him." "Mother," said Emma, " wouldn't you make some fried apple-pies, to-day? You know Henry is very fond of them." Mrs. Edwards thought this .was a good sugges- tion, and determined to set each child at work about something which should have some reference to Henry. She had a tact for planning, and succeeded in keeping the little ones occupied, so that the sun went down in good season. THE FIRST WELCOME HOME. 79 "Now," said Mr. Edwards, "we will wait tea for hi m" "Then I think," said Mrs. Edwards, "that we had better all go and dress. We want to look our best when he comes, you know; after that, we will get tea." The children scampered away. There was a great running hither and thither, and shouting and hurrying, though they well knew they had plenty of time. George, when dressed, walked down the hill. Johnny every once in a few minutes, capered out into the front yard, climbed the gate, and sat there until the cold drove him in. Even little Jamie, if not watched, would tottle away to the ever open front door, and put his chubby face into the frosty air. Emma quietly set the table, taking care, how- ever, to keep a good look out. Kate, now really pale from excitement, ran up to the garret windows, and there she stood straining her blue eyes, vainly trying to see through the deepening twilight. She was repaid, by being the first to espy the lanterns on the old lumbering coach. She clapped her hands, she ran down stairs: and upsetting Suzy in her way, cried: "He's come! he's come! O, he has come I " "Keep a little more quiet, children, if you can," said Mrs. Edwards, in her gentle tone. George and John had not heard her - they had already given a loud shout . it was echoed from the stage box -a cap waved in the air-another loud huzza, and Henry was in the midst of them. This was the first welcome of the college boy, home. page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] CHAPTER XVI. THE OLD PLAID CLOAK. FOR a few days, nothing was thought of but Hen- ry. Work and study were alike neglected. Mrs. Edwards found no fault, but quietly put her own shoulder to the wheel. Even the thoughtful Emma did not observe that her mother was doing all the work; she with the rest was fascinated with Henry and his college stories, which seemed to transport them into a new world. He had to repeat them over and over again-they were never tired of hearing them. Henry was both patient and com- municative; he always gratified'them. He had improved very much in his manners and appearance. His face, always handsome, had received a new charm from a certain air which he had acquired. His father looked on him with pride; he was a noble boy. His mother loved to keep him in sight; but her watchful ear soon detected a sound which startled her; it was a slight hacking cough, to which none of her children had been subject. It recalled the illness of her brother, who had died young with consumption. She also noticed a tendency to hoarse- ness, and inquired into it anxiously. "I have taken a little cold," said Henry, ' I shall get over it pretty soon." His father accounted for it, by his studious and sedentary habits, of late. He had changed his whole manner of living; rest and THE OLD PLAtJ CLOAK. 81 recreation would restore him perfectly. Time passed, however, and the "cold" was no better. Mrs. Edwards became alarmed. One night she followed him into his little bed- room. "Henry," said she, " you are no better at all, and I am not willing to have this go on any longer without attention. I must send for a phy- sician, to-morrow." "Don't, pray don't send for a doctor, mother; there is really no need of it. I'll take anything you want me to, if you are so much in earnest about it. But I tell you the truth when I say, that I am a great deal better than I have been; the cold is going off." "Better than you have been! Have you had this long, Henry?" she asked, deeply agitated. "Not so very long, mother, only it has been much worse." "And you did not let me know it? that was not right. Tell me now all about it; how did you take such a cold in the first place? have you been very ill?" said she, speaking now very seriously, for she read in Henry's face that there was something in this matter which he wished to conceal. "Come, my son; you must tell mother all about it." Henry burst out laughing, for it seemed to be the only thing he could do. "Pray do not look so dis- tressed," said he, " sit down by me and I will tell you the whole story. About four weeks ago we had a pelting rain, and I got pretty well soaked through, just going over to my meals, and it was too much trouble to dry my clothes, because you see I should have to go right out again." "But I thought you boarded quite near college." page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 THE SUNNY SIDE, "So I do."f "How could you get so wet, then, with a cloak on?" i"Why, you see, I did not wear my cloak that day; so now, mother, you have the whole story. I am getting well fast. Just bring on the julep, and that will complete the cure." Mrs. Edwards knew her son well enough, to know there was something about this matter which he still kept to himself. She sat a few minutes lost in thought, then light seemed suddenly to flash upon her. "Henry," said she, "you never wear your cloak." "How can you prove that, mother?" said Henry, laughing. "Do you, my son? - do you wear your cloak?" "Why, you see mother, I never wear it on a warm day; it is too heavy." "But do you ever wear it on a cold day?" "I wear it cold nigihts, very often, mother." "Ah! Henry, I see how it is, it looks out of date; it is quite out of fashion there, is it not?" "It is just as warm for all that, you know, mother." "Have you been all winter long without any over- coat?" I am tough, mother." "And you have gone tired, out of your hot room, into cold and storm, with no additional clothing?" "O yes, mother, I always wear my tippet, and run when it-is very cold." "You arm not strong enough for such exposure, Henry. It has already cost you a cold which you may never get rid of. From such a cold your poor THE OLD PT,AID CLOAK. 83 uncle never recovered. I do not think you have done just right, my son. "But, mother," said Henry, "to tell you the plain truth, I could not wear my cloak; the fellows laugh- ed at me. You have no idea how it looks there. Nobody wears plaid cloaks and square capes now-a- days. If I go without any, they think I am tough." "You cannot live so," said his mother sorrowfully, for she remembered George's wants. "There is a friend of mine, Ned Elliott, who is as rich as Croesus. He has a splendid broadcloth cloak, all lined with woollen, which he gave forty dollars for, and he has been teazing me to buy it of him for twelve. He has some bills to meet which he knows his Guardian will make a fuss about, and he wants to raise the money in this way. He can get a new over-coat easily enough, but he cannot get the money without telling what he wants it for; besides, he has worn his cloak two winters, and that is as long as he ever wears anything, and he is tired of it. I did not mean to tell you this, mother; my plan was, to see if I could not in some way, by copy- ing for a lawyer whom I know, earn enough to pay for it, next term." "And did you mean to do without any until you could earn it?" "I thought you and Emma would cure up my cold with julep, and then the winter is half gone. If it was not for this deuced cough, I should be well enough now." This was a new word,-one which was never heard at the parsonage before. Mrs. Edwards look- ed at her boy, and he felt her silent reproof; he was sorry he had said it. page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 THE SUNNY SIDE. "Go to sleep now," said she, "it is getting late; we will talk more about it to-morrow." Mrs. Edwards went to the sitting-room and sat down by the fire, alone. What was to be done now? She had not the heart to blame her boy; he had always been sensitive to ridicule, and she thought if it was as he represented it, she really could not ex- pect him to wear the old cloak. To go back with- out one in his present state of health would be at the risk of his life, and yet, to get him one was im- possible. If by any means money could be raised, in all justice it must be spent on George. She could not help weeping. She would gladly have taken her last black dress, to meet the emergency, but that was by no means suitable for an over-coat. "It cannot be helped," said- she at last to herself with quiet sorrow, " he must wear it and bear the laugh." She felt that she could understand the suf- fering this would cause him. She could see the color mounting to his temples, and the trembling of his lip at the unfeeling jest. How gladly would she shield his young heart from such trials; but there was nothing left for her to do, but to pray for him. She prayed earnestly that God would give them entire submission to His holy will; that He would make them contented and cheerful under the allotments of his Providence. As she committed the case to God, her agitation subsided, and her heart returned to its peaceful trust, as a bird to its nest. "Yes," thought she as she retired, "all will be right. How do I know but God designs to bless just this suffering to Henry? I will not be distress- ed; if it is best for him that he should be relieved, some way will be provided." THE OLD -PLAID CLOAK. 85 The next day she told Mr. Edwards; he also at first was much troubled. "I cannot see," said he, "what we can do about it, and yet it is a great pity to let such a chance slip. A very common article would cost twelve dollars. There is no question but that it would be good economy to buy it. Here are three boys to wear it after him, and it will prob- ably look well, as long as it holds together. rIf it were not for George's clothes, I could appropriate five dollars towards it." Henry entered at this moment. "What about George, father?" Mr. Edwards, without alluding to the cloak, ex- plained to him how they were situated with regard to George. "He ought to go - that's a fact, said Henry; " he is as restless as a fish out of water. If the only trouble in the way is his clothing, I think I can remedy that." He then told them that Ned Elliott had already given him a large box full of summer clothing which he had done %Wearing, and wanted to get out of his way; most of it was as good as new. "I took it," said Henry, " because I knew mother would be glad of it. I can't wear the clothes, they are too small for me, and I should not exactly want to wear them there, if I could. They will just fit George. I meant to have brought them home, but the box was under my bed andj forgot it." He enumerated the articles-to his ilother, and she found they would abundantly fit out George. She exchanged a sig- nificant glance with her husband - her eyes beamed with pleasure --- she met an answering look - both were thinking of the five dollars and the new cloak. page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 THE SUNNY SIDE. In the afternoon, Mrs. Edwards made a confi- dant of Emma. Her thoughtful mind sometimes suggested expedients which were valuable to her mother. At this time she wore a demure face for some hours, and then came with her plan. "Mother, I think I can make my best dress last another year, if I turn it and put the top at bottom, and buy a little new trimming; and as I calculate, this will save about two dollars towards the cloak- so ,we have seven, already." Mrs. Edwards was much pleased with this gene- rous offer, and she accepted it. But vacation drew near its close, and the much needed five dollar bill had not turned up. "We cannot make it out, after all," said Mrs. Ed- wards, with a sigh. "In one way we can," replied Mr. Edwards. "As a dernier resort, I can give up my Review. This year, in all probability, is our hardest, and we must meet its exigencies at any sacrifice." Mrs. Edwards knew that it would be a great sa- crifice to Mr. Edwards, to relinquish this, their only Periodical and she was about to protest against it, when a slight hacking cough, heard in the entry, checked her. Reluctantly, by both, this arrange- ment was at last agreed upon, and Mr. Edwards wrote that day to have the Review discontinued. Before the wafer was dry upon this note, he was called down to see a friend, who was an old man, exceedingly rich. The old gentleman was social-. he asked to see the children, expressed great pleas- ure at their appearance, and cordially invited them to come and make him a visit. He dined heartily on ham and eggs, drank with a relish a fine cup of THE OLD PLAID CLOAK. 87 coffee, and was in high spirits. He had been very hospitably entertained, and was impressed with the idea that the Edwardses must be " well off." He was a man who never sought out charities; he had no practical belief that people could need money, and yet be silent about it. Had he been on the alert to do good with his abundance, he could not have entered as he did into the detail of this family history, without knowing there must be need here. He took- Iis leave in good humor, buttoned up his fur-lined over-coat--buttoned it over the large pocket-book lined with money--money-- money. The thought never entered his mind, how much good a single five dollar bill, which would never be missed there, might do here. So, he went away, and the bill with him, to be spent with three or four others, the next day, on some extra trappings for very extra horse-blankets! As yet, not a word had been said to Henry about all this twisting and turning with regard to the cloak. The time came for him to leave, and Emma now stowed away in the trunk, a box of cough medi- cines, instead of fried apple pies. Henry, when he went, made a great show of wrapping himself up in the old plaid cloak, with the square cape. "Mother," said he with a good-natured smile, "nobody needs a better cloak to travel in; it keeps me warm as toast." There was a bright smile in his mother's eye, which he noticed then. "My son," said she, as she bade him good-by, " open your trunk, will you, as soon as your fire is built, and your room warm." page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] CHAPTER XVIIL THE BROADCLOTH CLOAK. IT was night when the young student entered his room, now cold, dark and silent. It made }lim home- sick; so he left it, and went to his boarding-house. Not one of his friends had yet made their appear- ance, and taking his tea hastily, he returned. Soon a fire crackled in his old Franklin; the ruddy light capered about on the brown walls, welcoming him with twinkles, nods and grimaces. He rubbed his hands, warmed himself, and began to feel a little at home again, with the old stove. Soon he was think- ing of his mother; he recalled her parting looks and words; indeed he had thought of them with some curiosity, once or twice before. "Open your trunk as soon as your room is warm." "One of mother's good letters there for me, I dare say; I'll get it." He struck a light, and opened his trunk. Just as he thought - there, on top, lay a letter. He opened it as he drew up to the jolly Franklin; and as he did so, bills fell out, which he hastily picked up, and wondering, read as follows: "My very dear son: Enclosed are twelve dollars, which we wish you to take and buy that cloak. We thought you might never have another such chance, and it was best to improve it. With a little good contrivance, we have i THE BROADCLOTH. CLOAK. 89 found the money; indeei it is wonderful how all our wants are provided for. God never forsakes us; I feel that I shall live to see you wholly de- voted to Himn. I have no time to write more. Re- member about the cough; do not go out without the cloak, until spring is far advanced. YOUR AFFECTIONATE- MOTHER. P. S. I steal a minute more. Be sure and wear the cloak now, until an April sun shines; and don't fancy we have pinched ourselves to spare this; we have done it very well. Two dollars are Emma's present; she chose to wear a dress which would save her this sum, and I let her do it, because I knew it would make her happy. God bless you, my son, and adopt you into His family. You do not know how much we pray for this. Write to your father; he will want to know all about your getting back. MOTHER." Henry read this, and re-read it, and read it yet again. He counted over the precious money- those dear twelve dollars, the price of so much love and self-denial; then he put them carefully away, and with compressed lips and glistening eyes, strode back and forth in his room. He realized as he had never before done, at what a cost his parents were trying to educate their children; how closely his father was calculating; how much - denying himself what his arduous life seemed to require;;how his patient, gentle, hopeful mother, toiled on cheerfully year by year, without luxuries, and often without the comforts which her delicate health seemed to make necessary. "And three boys to come after me," said he aloud; " where is to be the end? This 7 aE page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 THE SUNNY SIDE. will never do; this will never do." He could not sleep much that night, notwithstanding his fatigue: for new views of things had opened before him; new ideas were crowding on his mind; and from the chaos, a new purpose was forming, which was to take deep root in his heart. CHAPTER XVIII. THE LETTER HOME. TOWARDS the close of Henry's term, an incident occurred which, as it had an important influence on his future life, must be related. He was strolling up the college walk, one day, with several students, one of whom was Foster, a Southerner. Foster had been dining at an oyster saloon, and his dinner seemed to have made him talkative and boisterous; he was noisy in his praises of some young girl. "Pshaw! Foster," said one, "I don't see any thing handsome in her." "That is just as much as you know about any- thing," was the reply. "I tell you she is a --- fine girl. There isn't her equal for foot and hand, in the country." "What do you think of her, Edwards?" said the first speaker. "She will not begin to compare with my sister Kate," said Henry, proudly. "Kate is the hand- somest girl I ever saw in my life." "Handsome sister Kate, is she?" lisped out Fos- ter. "I was not speaking to you," replied Edwards, reddening a little - He had already had some ex- perience of Foster's insolence; it -was from him had come the shafts at the old plaid cloak, which ran- kled deepest. page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] 92 THE SUNNY SIDE. "O, you warn't, wor you? You are a smart one. Talk about handsome Kates, will you, when you havn't a decent coat to your back. How much will you take for her? Come, I'll trade--don't be hard on me now-I'll give pretty well." As he proceeded with his taunting proposals, the blood mounted rapidly to Henry's temples, his eyes flashed fire, he drew his breath sharp and quick be- tween closed teeth; an instant more, and Foster dropped lifeless on the walk. The hot blood fled rapidly from Henry's temples, leaving him white as the dead, and he stood motionless. I have killed him,' was all he could think. His friends crowded around him, took him by the arm, and hurried him off to his room. "Sit down to your books," said his chum hurried- ly, "no one will suspect you; be studying like a house a-fire if the tutor comes in. Here, dsink this water, man, you are white as a sheet. Keep whist now, while I go out and see how it will turn out; I don't believe he is hurt much." When his chum reached the scene of the affray, he found Foster on his feet; he had been stunned by the blow, but it had also sobered him. Covered with mud, he sneaked off amid peals of laughter. The blow, however, was severe enough to make him ill; a physician was called in and he was bled. After this he carried the marks about for some time. Henry could not look at him without shuddering. It seemed to him that it would have taken but a trifle more to have killed Foster. Into what a gulf of woe, then, a single moment of unbridled passion would have plunged him! He would gladly have made an acknowledgment to Foster-- he really felt THE LETTER HOME. 93 grateful to him, for not dying-but Foster gave him no chance. The Faculty felt called upon to reprimand young Edwards, and to order a "letter home." This part of his punishment Henry felt very much. He knew that his mother would grieve over it; she could not make all the allowances for him which his father would make. He was depressed and unhappy. In this state of mind he was relieved and touched by a letter which his classmates drew up among them- selves - a letter to his parents, in which they stated the matter just as it happened, with all its provoca- tions. They did not feel that Henry was much to be blamed, and they spoke of him as a man and a scholar, in terms of unqualified praise. Gradually, Henry recovered his wonted cheerfulness, but the hour of solitude and thought which this adventure caused him, tended very much to mature and strengthen some plans and purposes which had already taken root. This " letter home," brought the first sorrow to the parsonage, and it was but the precursor of heav- ier affliction. Death now entered the family circle for the first time, and claimed the little lamb of the flock. Poor little Jamie sickened and died very suddenly. Henry did not hear of it until after the funeral; it was not thought best to inform him be- fore, for the expenses of a journey home could not be borne. Henry felt this affliction very much, per- haps the more for his being alone, and he began t6 think more seriously about this double life of ours, than he had ever yet done. We can learn a few particulars about this, from the Journal page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] " THE SUNNY SIDE. Journal. "For many weeks we have been a mourning family. God has seen fit to remove from us our youngest born. Our children were distressed beyond measure; the last parting was agonizing. Poor ate fainted quite away, when the coffin lid was closed. Whlenever I have suffered myself to think of the children's dying, it has been with the feeling that Mr. Edwards would have to sustain us all. But it did not prove so; he was entirely over- come, and I had to comfort him; but God did not forsake me. He put comforting thoughts into my mind, and, I trust, I felt peaceful in suffering what Ie willed. I was also strengthened to watch over my little sufferer to the last. "Mama take him," were the last words he spoke. Precious one! he was then in my arms. His last look was on me. I saw the light of life go out in those blue orbs, and I gently closed the lids over them. They will open no more on earthly scenes. Little pilgrim! short and easy has thy journey been, and now, I trust, thou art safe in thy heavenly home. 1 do not think that in the experience of my whole life, I have had such startling views of the goodness and justice of God as I had then. MIy soul seemed to rise with mny child to the gates of heaven. I had a near view of God as He is --so infinitely holy and lovely, that I think with my whole heart I said, ,lot my will, but thine be done,' 'All things work together for good to them that love God.' How much it takes to make us cordially believe this. We have abundant reason to believe it, for we have every assurance that this affliction has been sanctified to Henry. He appears exceed ingly well, humble, trustful and ardent. He hopes THE LETTER HOME. -95 to unite with our little church, in his next vacation. Kate also, dear child, tremblingly expresses the hope that she has ' passed from death unto life.' I have hoped for a long time, that her heart was changed. We feel safe in advising her to seek ad- mission to the church, with Henry. My heart is full. Truly our ' cup runneth over.' ' What shall I render unto the Lord for all His benefits?' Three of our dear children, we hope, have entered the path to Heaven; one, we believe, sleeps in Jesus. Ever since Jamie's death, George has appeared thought- ful; he has been very obedient and attentive and kind. Neither his father nor I should be willing to have him leave home with his present feelings, lest these serious impressions should be dissipated. I keep about my work and try to have everything go on with its usual regularity, for I feel that this is best for my family. I am grateful to God for the health and tranquillity which enable me to do so. Yet the stillness of the house is oppressive. We miss our dear little boy's prattle. To-day I have been putting away his toys and clothes-this is my last work for him." page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] CHAPTER XIX. THE SECOND WELCOME HOME. Tim young grass was showing its tender green leaf; the crocus and daffodil were up in the bor- ders, and the time of the singing of birds had come. Itwas a mild day in spring when Henry now reached home. This time, there was no noisy greeting, for the children all thought of Jamie; the girls smiled upon him through tears; his father shook his hand in silence; his mother spoke calmly and sweetly to him. This was his second welcome home. He went into the sitting-room; he looked into that cor- ner, where, ever since he could remember, a cradle had stood-there was no cradle there now. He realized as he had never yet done, the dear baby's death,--and he burst into tears. His mother let him weep, and began at once to talk of Jamie, and related many little particulars about his sickness which they had not thought it best to write, and gradually the children became more calm. Then their father made a great effort to be cheerful; he spoke with much feeling of the satisfactory evi- dences of piety which his children gave, and he led their minds to the contemplation of the Saviour's love in numbering them among his chosen. Their young hearts glowed with gratitude and were soon peaceful and at rest. They sat there-all close together-with quiet smiles where tears had been, I THE SECOND WELCOE HOME. 97 and gradually they spoke of other things. Henry told them about his journey home, and various other little matters, and then tea was ready. After tea, Emma asked about her box of medicines, and this led to inquiries about the cough, which was now quite gone, -and also about the famous cloak. "I will get it and show it to you," said Henry. He went into the entry aloxe, opened his trunk, and taking out the cloak, swung one side ver his shoul- der, velvet out, and walked into the room with the air of a Spaniard. It was very much admired; no one had imagined it was so very elegant. "So much real velvet," said Kate. "And such a beau- tiful tassel," said Suzy. "Just like the one I mean to have when I go to college," said John. "Let us see you get it," replied Master George, who was now parading about in it. The cloak was long dis- cussed, and then Emma, turning it inside out, put it carefully' away. After tea, Henry brought his trunk into the kitchen. The opening of this, to the children, was a great affair. They crowded around it, an eager group. Some little present there was for all - odds and ends, such as a student without money chances to pick up. A knife, or pencil, or paper folder, or a book-mark, which had been given him; candy and maple sugar; and now a wooden horse, curiously carved, the work of Henry's leisure minutes; this his mother took and put away in the drawer with Jamie's toys. There was a cup and ball too, of Henry's manufacture-quite a pretty one, which' was for Susan. After these, came the summer clothing. George tried on every article, and Henry pronounced them .a " dead fit." "Only examine page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98 THE S UINX SIDE. them, mama," said Emma, "they are of the very nicest material; and see how much work is put into them?" "Yes, I see," said Mrs. Edwards, very much pleased, " they must have cost a great deal of money." "I guess they did," said Henry, "Eliott has so much money, he does not know what to do with it." "George will have every thing he needs, and more, too," said Kate. "That is just all you know about it, Kate," said George, "you don't know any more what a man needs, than you know how to wear a coat." "You are not a man," said Suzy, " you are only George." "Well, I shall be, if I live long enough, I sup- pose; shan't I?" "What time must George go, father?" inquired Emma. "Some time next week, I believe." "Next week! This was quite too soon; Henry had but just come; might not George delay one week?" m "No," his father replied, "when the ter om- menced, he wished to have him present, that he might begin fair and square." The boys were all somewhat disappointed. Several days after this, the children were together on the back piazza, where the noon sun shone warm- ly. John and Suzy mounted the maple logs, and gathered the honey which oozed from them. Kate cleared away the dead leaves from her flower bor- ders. Emma sat knitting by her brothers. "Yes," said Henry, "I meant to study law. I meant to be President, some day, or a Daniel Web- THE SECOND WELCOME HOME. 99 ster, or some great man or other; but my feelings on this point have changed." "How changed?" asked George, quickly, "you wouldn't be a parson, would you?" "If I choose any profession, it will be that, I think," said Henry, "-and yet I have not got over my childish feeling, that it is hard work and poor pay." "The greatest drudgery in the world," said George. "No, no, not all that," said Henry; "a man can- not help feeling that he is working for something, when he is working for eternity. The profession has altogether a new interest to me, now, and yet I find I cannot quite get -away from my old impres- sions about it. My mother has had to work too hard." "Then you mean after all to be a minister?" "No, I do not think I shall." "Well, I always said you were cut out for a laws yer." ' I shall not be a lawyer." "Well, bless you, man, what will you be? One Doctor in a family is enough, and you know I have set my heart on that." "I shall not be a Doctor." "What in the world are you going through col- lege for, then?" "Cannot tell, just yet." "I shall be a minister, and have a pulpit, and preach just like my father," said John. ," That is right," said George, 4 stick to your text. You will have to give up maple honey, though, if you preach." page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 THE S11sNY SIDE. "That is right, Johnny;" said Henry, "be a minister. I will send you through. It would be a great pity not to have one minister among"-- he checked himself-- he had almost, said " amongfour boys." "' If I were a man," said Emma, "I think it would be my highest ambition to be a minister." "You must be a minister's wife ;" said Henry, "that is next to it." "I do not know about that." "And what shall I be?" said Kate, lifting up her beautiful face, and holding out her dirty fingers. "Just what you are, I hope, for many a year to come," said Henry. "Mother says I shall make an artist," said Suzy, and I shall paint beautiful pictures, and get father some money to buy him a house." "Where is the money to come from to make us anything?" said Henry. "It is a hard pull now, just to feed and clothe us; we ought all of us who are old enough, to be earning our own bread." The children were saddened by this suggestion; conver- sation lagged, and they soon separated. CHAPTER XX. AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL. EARLY in the ensuing week, the boy who was-to take George's place, arrived at the parsonage un- expectedly, and George was hurried off. On the Sabbath before, Henry and Kate united with the church. George seemed much impressed on this occasion, and in the evening he conversed freely with his parents respecting the -state of his owi mind. After this, they seemed to feel less anxiety about him than they had done. He was much mis- sed, however, at home, -with his noise and pranks and fun; the quiet invalid boy, by no means made his place good; but an event soon happened which occasioned so much stir at the parsonage, that there was no time to mourn his absence. This event was the breaking of the axle-tree of a Mrs. Brown's car- riage; in consequence of which she was detained at Weston over night. Now, the old tavern was a dull place to stop at; no books were to be found there but almanacs, and a well-thumnbed copy of the "Mysteries of Udolpho." Mrs. Brown remem- bered having met Mrs. Edwards in Boston, many years before, when she went to the May Anniversa- ries, and she thought she would call on her and re- new their acquaintance. Mrs. Edwards received her cordially, and treated her with true hospitality. She urged her to pass the night with them; and as page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 THE SUNNY SIDE, the tavern was very unconfortable, Mrs. Brown was easily persuaded to do so. She was an intelligent, observing woman, and soon noticed the good order which prevailed at the parsonage. She was particularly pleased Pith the womanly Eimma, and managed adroitly to learn what her advantages had been, and how far she had progressed in her studies. Soon after Mrs. Brown's return, Mrs. Edwards received a letter from her, in which, after thanking her for her hos- pitality, she invited Emma to come and spend a year with her and study with her own daughters, for whom she had provided the best of tutors.-- "They lived," she said, " quite retired, dressed plain- ly, and Emma would need nothing different in the way of dress from what she wore at home." The children were elated by this proposal - they clapped their hands and shouted. "Nothing in the world could have happened better for them;" they said, " it was indeed wonderful." "Mother thinks," said Kate, " that we ought not to say happen, exactly; I know that, by her looks." "You are right, Kate," said her mother, by a smile. Emma had been quite silent through this uproar, but her bright eyes and crimson cheeks showed plainly enough how much she felt. With her usual forethought, she was wondering how her mother could get her ready. "She must go," said Henry, decidedly. "Certainly," said her father; "we cannot lose such a chance as this for her." "r Emma, dear, I can make over my black silk dress for you, and that will be all you need for a handsome one," said her mother. AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL. 103 "O, mother, I cannot take that," replied Fmma, with tears in her eyes, "itis the only nice one you have in the world." "Never mind that, my daughter; it is the chil- dren first, now, you know. I do not need it much here; and besides, it is short-waisted for me, and will about suit you. Perhaps, one of these days you may teach, and with the first twenty dollars you earn, which you do not need, you may buy me a new one. This will make it all square, won't it?" s"And I," said Kate, dancing about, with her blue eyes sparkling, "I have a beautiful plan, mother: I have not marked one of my new under clothes, and Emma can take them all, and I can wear out her old ones here at home. Isn't that lucky?" "Well done, Kate," said her father, laying his hand affectionately over her sunny curls. But Kate could not stand still long enough to be caressed; she capered .ff for the clothing. "I do not see that you will need anything, Em- ma, but a pair of new shoes and gloves," said her mother. "What shall I do' about a bonnet?" said Emma, rather gravely. "I forgot that," said her mother. "She may have my cap," said Johnny, eager as any of them; "she looked real pretty in it, on Prince." "I'll tell you--I'll tell you," said Kate, and in her haste, her words came tumbling over each- other, "mine - mine - it's most new - ribbon and all- beautiful - we'll change." "Bring it, Kate," said her father. She was off again, like the wind. "Here, Em- page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] -104 THE SUNNY SIDE. - ma, try it. on: it just fits. Doesn't she look well, papa? How lucky it came my turn to have the new one, this year - it is so becoming to Emma." "But how do you look in her's?" asked Henry. "Like a beauty, don't I, Henry? see for your- self." She had innocently spoken the truth ; a face beau- tiful indeed, peeped out on Henry, from the old straw bonnet-the eyes beaming, the whole coun- tenance radiant with generous feeling, the cherry lips half parted, the -curls which her father had tum- bled, lying over her cheeks -that was Kate. "You will do,". said Henry, smiling; he was very proud of her beauty. "Don't you think I shall, Emma?" said Kate, and she took off the bonnet which had been whit- ened perhaps twenty times. "And you must carry my shawl," said her mother; "so I do not see but you are quite fixed out." The white wedding shawl, carefully pinned up in a napkin, was brought out, and mad/e over to Em- ma." "Do not be afraid to wear it," said her mother, "put it on always when you need to be dressed." Thus were Emma's matters arranged. Hope had fitted out one child, and love was now fitting out an- other. Henry was an interested spectator of the whole scene. He saw how cheerfully sacrifices were made; " and,* thought he, " shall I make none? If X were off their hands, they would not be obliged to strip themselves of their own clothing, to get along." CHAPTER XXL. THE SACRIFICE. From the Journal. - -"Emma has left us. Mrs. Brown is a most estimable woman; may God re- ward her for her kindness to our dear child. She is just such a lady as I like to have Emma with; she will give her good counsel; and a young Chris. tian needs guidance and sympathy. Mr. Edw ards seems more cheerful than I have seen him since Jamie's death. He is very much pleased with this offer for Emma; so am I, but I find I miss her very much indeed; I scarcely- appreciated before, how much she relieved me from care. I am afraid I have not expressed enough to her of the comfort and pleasure which she has given me. Mr. Dodge has been very ill, and Mr. Edwards was very attentive to him. Yesterday he called, and I presume he felt grateful to his minister and wished to show it in some way; so he handed him a five dollar bill, and asked him to buy himself some- thing he needed. Mr. Edwards, I saw plainly enough, would have preferred to decline it, but he thought it would not answer. After Mr. Dodge left, he threw it to me. "There," said he, "you had better take that for Emma." "She really needs nothing," said I, " but what the last wedding fee will buy, and I think none of the children need it. ]Ha ..-8 page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 THE SUNNY SIDE. -ot you better put it by and take the Review again?" I knew well how much this had been missed. "What Review?" said Henry; "you have not stopped the Review?" "Read it all out," said his father, laughing. I was afraid I had 'let the cat out of the bag,' and I tried to divert Henry's attention by talking about other things, but he was on the alert, and asked so many questions that he soon found out the whole story. "It was by such a self-denial as this, then," said he with a trembling voice, "that you bought my cloak." "My dear son," said his father, "you make quite too serious a matter of it. The Review was really of less consequence to me than the cloak to you, and even if it had not been, I should have given it up in such a case. We expect to pinch a little to get our boys through college, and then if you are prospered you can repay it at some future time. Dear me! we may be rich yet, and I can have forty Reviews if I wish for them, and your mother here, may keep her carriage -who knows?"Henry did not smile; I could see that he felt badly; I cannot forgive my- self for having been so careless. It seems to me, that of late he has been very sensitive about being dependent upon us. I have sometimes fancied even that he ate sparingly when the other little ones were unusually hungry." One week later. "It is all explained now. Three days after this conversation about the Review, we once more packed Henry off for college. 'I observed that he was thoughtful, and often I knew that he was making a great effort to control himself. I supposed THE SACRIFICE. 107 he missed little Jamie, who used to be delighted with the packing. Once in particular, I remember, I was folding something over his books. 4"Henry," said I, " how learned you are going to be when you get all these into your head." He tried to reply, but seemed unable, choked, and then burst into a loud laugh which startled me. Now I understand it all. He started early, bidding us a cheerful adieu. "You will hear from- me very soon, Mother," said he, and I fancied then there was something signifi- cant in his look and tone. In a week from this date, Mr. Edwards came home from the post-office almost breathless, with an open letter in his hand. IKate and I ran to meet him. In an instant my heart had travelled around to gather up its three absent ones. What evil had befallen them? "Nothing," said he, reading my alarm, " no bad news, all are well; but Henry has left college and gone into a store in Boston." "Left college - gone into a store!!" we echoed in astonishment," what do you mean?" "Just what I say - I never was so surprised in my life. Did you know anything of his plans, my dear?" "Not one word- do read." We stood riveted to the spot where we were, while Mr. Edwards read the following letter. I copy it because it is a pre- cious one to me. "Boston. MY VERY DEAR PARENTS You are very much astonished, I know, by get- ting a letter from me with this post-mark. You have imagined me for several days, snug in my col- page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 108 THE SUNNY SIDE. lege quarters; instead of that, I am in Boston. First, I will tell you how, and where, for you will be impatient to know. I am at present in my uncle's family, paying nothing per week for board. I am duly entered into Mr. Magoun's wholesale dry goods store, as assistant clerk, and for my services I am to receive - only think -four hundred dol- lars a year! What do you say to this, father? I have as much salary as you, and am as rich a man, all but the children. Now, dear mother, you have the cream of the story, and I hope you will read the rest of my letter, feeling quite happy. I will now endeavor to explain how all this came about. My plans for myself, when I was a mere boy, as you know, were to study law -I set my heart on it. But what is the use of setting one's heart on a course which is not the best one? It is of no use at all, as I have found out. I entered college- thanks to father- well fitted, and commenced my course, full of ambitious plans. I studied hard, sometimes late into the night, and whatever repu- tation I gained as a scholar, was certainly hard- earned. I fairly boned down to it, and had the Law still in my eye. I felt that I must crowd much into little - for I sometimes burned with impatieuce to be earning money, that I might share with you the burden of educating the other children. I knew very well that you and mother had a hard struggle of it to keep your heads above water, with all of us on your shoulders. I did not, however, fully un- derstand what hard work it was, until the affair of the cloak came up. The evening after I got back, and read mother's letter, it came into my mind for the first time, that I had no business to be going THE SACRIFICE. 109 through college-that I was the oldest, and it was my place to put a shoulder to the wheel, and not be dragging on you. After this thought, I never felt exactly easy, though I could not at once relinquish all my golden schemes. I went on struggling with duty and inclination, until dear Jamie's death. You know how this first affliction roused me to new views of life and eternity. As I hope, my heart was changed. The Law gradually lost its charm as a profession -and I thought more and more seriously about giving up a profession altogether. Even if I could work my way along through college, without more aid from you, still at best, it would be many years before I could render you any assistance about the other boys. I should have to stand by, and see you struggling on, through all the best years of your life, having few comforts, no luxuries, and never feeling in easy circumstances--debts always con- tracting - money wanted faster than it could come. This does not seem to me, right. One of us ought to take up the profession of money-making, for the sake of the rest. Now I, after much deliberation and prayer, have chosen it--it is my birth-right, and I hope, my dear parents, you will not seek to change my purpose. I have counted the cost-it seems to me plainly to be my duty, and I have made my final decision. I left college with the in- tention of never returning; and this decision was strengthened every day I was at home. My eyes were now opened, and I saw how closely you had to live, to get along at all, and saw also how cheer- fully sacrifices were made-and I became impa- tient to be at work with the rest of you. God has seemed to smile on my undertaking. Il page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] "O THE SUNNY SIDE. Only hear of my success. As soon as I arrived in Boston, I sought out my mother's uncle. I intro- duced myself to him, and then frankly told him the whole of the story, from beginning to end. He re- ceived me most kindly, sent his man off to the stage office at once for my baggage, gave me a pleasant lit- tle room, and told me I should be his guest until he could look around for me. He went that very morning, and called upon Mr. Magoun, who is a very wealthy business man here, and told him, as I afterwards learned, the story. Mr. Magoun wished to see me, and I accordingly went after dinner with my uncle, and was introduced to him. Between ourselves, I fancy he ' took a shine' to me. He made me sit down, and put question after question, until I had told all over again, how this had come about. I am afraid I made a long story of it, for when I be- gin to talk about home, I never know when to stop. Yet he seemed much interested; he paced his par- lor back and forth, and if I am not mistaken, I saw tears in his eyes, when I was telling how you had to get along. He came and put his hand for an instant upon my head, almost as if I had been his son, and said, 'Young man, you have done well.' I tell you this to please you, mother. He said he knew my father,-- he was in college with him,- father was senior when Mr. Magoun entered. He thinks I look very much like father. Then he of- fered me this situation, with four hundred a year t I doubt whether there is a man in Boston who feels as rich as I do; I am sure there is not one happier. Now, mother, Kate and Susy sha ll go to the very best schools in the country; but of that some other time. I am to remain three months with my uncle, 's THE SACRIFICE. Ill free of expense; and after that, Mr. Magoun has invited me to spend some time with him. He says he remembers having seen you here, one May, mother, and that he was very much interested in you. What do you think of tlfat? No board bills, you see, for several months--so tell the children to look out for a big box on top of the stage, one of these days. My dear parents, do believe me when I tell you that I am happier than I can express. God has blessed me in my efforts to assist you. I wish I could just run up to talk it all over,-a letter seems so formal, but I am a business man now, and I must stick to my work. So good-by to college walls and musty books. I am about a better business. If God continues to prosper me, you and the children shall want for nothing. Don't grieve, mother, because the country has lost such a fine President as I should have made, for I shall yet be a Boston merchant, and I can tell you, this is an honorable calling; some of them are princes in heart as well as fortune; and of course I mean to be one ofothe best. Father is smiling at my 'great talk,' but I am writing, ex- cited by my extraordinary success. Now mother, one word more, particularly to com- fort you, and my long letter shall come to an end. I have become fully satisfied that the constitutional weakness of my lungs would never have admitted of my preaching. I should have broken down in one year. I have to be very careful, as it is. John must be the preacher. It strikes twelve--adieu. Write me at once, and approve my course, that with a light conscience and heavy purse, I may also have a happy heart. Your affeetionate son,- HENRY." page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] "2 THE BONY SIDE. I was entirely overcome by this letter. I sank down into a chair and wept. Mr. Edwards paced the room, sometimes exclaiming, "What a noble. hearted boy!" Kate and Susan were excited; they seemed to feel as if a mine of wealth had been open- ed under their feet; they could not comprehend my tears. "'He is right about it," said his father at last, "I was beginning to see, myself, that we could not carry another boy through college until Henry could help as; but this is a great sacrifice." I felt all this, -and it has cost me a hard struggle to recon- cile myself to it. My conviction that he is right about the weakness of his lungs, I think has done more than anything else towards it. I begin to fear that I have cherished some unhallowed ambition for my first-born, which God sees fit to chasten in this manner; but now, I trust, the struggle is over. I cheerfully submit, and I love to thank God for such generous impulses in my boy. I had reached this state of mind before I wrote him, so that my letter was a cheerful one. Dear fellow! he deserves all the comfort we can give him by our cordial approval. Still later date. More news from Henry--full of comfort. Recieved to-day a letter from his em- ployer, which I copy. "TO THE REV. HENRY EDWARDS. My Dear Sir,--It is with much pleasure I answer your inquires regarding your son. His deportment is unexceptionable. He minds his busi- ness, is :attentive, industrious, obliging and gentle- manly. I am perfectly satisfied with him. He is a fellow of fine parts, and I hope soon to be able to THE SACrIFICE. 113 promote him. I have every reason to believe that lis moral and religious influence in my store, is of the best kind and is already felt. I congratulate you sincerely on having such a son. He is one of whom any father might be proud. Yours respectfully, Not proud, I hope, but grateful and happy in him, and indeed in all our dear children. George is the only one whose misconduct ever causes us anxiety. He is so impulsive and head-strong, that he is often led into evil, which causes me some sleepless nights. I believe that he will yet be saved. I cannot feel that any of our number will finally be lost; but at present the impressions produced by Jamie's death, seem to have passed away" page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] CHAPTER XXII. TROUBLE WITH GEORGE. GEORGE had fallen in with a wild set of boys, who led him astray. He was often induced to join them in a "frolic." To one of his temperament, the reaction from a life of restraint under a parent's watchful eye, to his present life of comparative freedom, was dangerous. Liberty intoxicated him, and he sometimes joined the various frolicking clubs, just because he enjoyed the consciousness of doing as he pleased. At length he quite neglected his studies, and after one or two warnings, his teacher felt obliged to write to his father. Mr. Edwards read the letter at the post office, and decided to say nothing about it until the next morning, for he knew it would give George's mother a wakeful night. After breakfast the next day, when the pleasant sunshine, and the perfume of summer blossoms, stirred up cheerful thoughts, and seemed to lighten troubles, he called her away from the children into the par- lor, and told her how George was behaving. His feelings were a little irritated by his boy's perverse- ness and idleness. ' I have about concluded," said he, " to send for him to come right home; for if he will not study, he shall work. It would not be right to take the bread from the other children, to help along a boy who will do nothing to help himself." Very gently, and by quiet suggestions, Mrs. Ed- TROUBLE WITH GEORGE. 115 wards calmed his feelings, and modified his plans. Was not this George's first trial, and his first fault? Was it so very strange that a boy of his tempera- ment should revel in his liberty awhile, and be car- ried away by the novelty and excitement of his new life? Must he not learn by experience, who were proper associates, and who led him into evil, for which she knew his conscience gave him no peace? Would it not be best to expostulate with him kind- ly; to show him his danger and his errors, and to give him a fair chance to repair ,them?" "Yes, perhaps it was best," Mr. Edwards remarked at last. "At any rate, he would defer recalling him, until his mother had written, and would wait to see what effect that had upon him." During this day, Kate observed that her mother was unusually serious; and that several times she left the room, and quietly stole up into the garret. There was a little unfinished room there, with a "window which opened towards the sun-rising," and the name of that chamber might well be called -Peace. It was there this mother retired daily to pray. It was there she consecrated herself and her children to God, and found such comfort in it; there she came with a troubled spirit, and found rest; and there was her mourning turned into joy. The children seemed to feel a reverence for this room - they walked softly in it - they never played there.. Nothing which she ever said to them, made so deep an impression on their young hearts, as the sound of her soft footsteps thither, when she quietly left their pleasant circle. It was there she now plead for the erring one, as only mothers plead, that God would preserve him from the evil influences which page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] "6 THE SUNNY SIDE. were around him; that he might be kept from stum- bling on " the dark mountains." From this chamber of Peace, she at length returned tranquil; her coun- tenance expressed it; her tones of voice expressed it; it was evident that she had been with God. After this, she wrote to George. There is no copy of this letter, hbut something of its effects upon the boy, is known. The very first page, he wet with penitent tears; and before reading half the second page, he put it down, and seizing his hat, ran out at once, and took the Temperance Pledge: a pledge which he faithfully kept through his whole life. Shortly after this, his father wrote him a full account of Henry's course. This had a great effect on George, and he made many strong resolutions, not to be behind him in his generous devotion to the good of the family. The children knew nothing of this trouble. Em- ma continued well and happy. Mrs. Brown wrote, that she was making fine progress as a scholar, and had endeared herself much to them; they did not know that they should ever be willing to part with her; that she was already forming plans to teach, for which she was anxious to fit herself, as soon as possible, that she might help Kate and Susan. She came home and made a short visit, once during the year, and her friends found that Mrs. Brown had not spoken too highly of her progress. She had improved astonishingly, both in appearance and manners. She was lady-like and polished, conversed with ease and elegance, but to little Kate she seemed zo very genteel, that she could not immediately feel at home with her. However, in a short time this wore off, and they were on the old terms again. TROUBLE WITH GEORGE. 117 Mr. and Mrs. Edwards enjoyed Emma's visit very much; there was no draw-back upon their pleasure, for George was now doing well, and Henry wrote often, and always in fine spirits. In his last letter, he said in a postscript, " Ask the girls, on Wednesday night, to be so good as to go to bed at sundown, and dream of me. Johnny had better sit up.'" "What does Henry mean ?" inquired the children. "Papa looks roguish," said Kate; "he knows something-1 can tell by his eye." "Father, what is it ? - tell us--tell us." They hung on him, they took away his newspaper, they would be answered. 4 Tell you what? " " Why, what Henry means." "You do just as he says--go to bed to dream, and John and I will sit up until the stage comes in." "Now I know," said Kate. " It's the box - -the box! I know ! it's Henry's box coming on Wed- nesday." The children capered about at this an- nouncement, and nothing else but the box was talked of, or thought of. page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] CHAPTER XXTT. fENRY'S BOX. ON Wednesday night, the look-out at the back garret was occupied early. The old stage-coach was no cousin of that "watch pot which never boils," for just at the proper time it came lumbering along, with a big box on the top of it. "That is it!" shouted the children, as they raced down stairs and out into the yard. The stage-passengers looked smilingly out of the window on the happy group, for even Father and Mother were there, to welcome Henry's box. One might have thought Henry him- self was concealed in it. The stage-driver hoisted it off, as John thought, rather unceremoniously. "Look out, there," said he, "you may break something." "Hadn't you better carry it yourself, my little man?" said the driver. It was soon in the kitchen and the cover off- but now so many faces were peeping in, papa could do nothing. "Father," said Emma, " suppose we take out in turn--you first, then mother, and we children by ages, commencing with the youngest." Mr. Edwards said, 'Mother should draw first,' and this was agreed upon. A letter fell to her, which was laid aside to be read afterwards. Mr. Edwards brought out a bundle which was 'For HENtY'S BOX. 119 Mother.' It contained a nice brown silk dress, with patterns for the cutting. "The dear boy," said she with a trembling lip; "he- shouldn't have spent his money so." Mr. Edwards took the silk, threw it over her shoulders, and it fell in soft folds, golden and glossy. "This is really very handsome," said he; " some lady must have chosen it for him. You have not had such a dress since you were married, my dear." "I never had such a dress, Mr. Edwards," replied she with deep feeling. Emily drew a package for herself, on which was written: "From an anony- mous friend-for Emma." It contained a hand- some Carolina-plaid dress. Kate drew one just like it for herself: "From Henry." Suzy also brought out a French calico dress for herself, which exactly suited her taste. The girls admired these so long, that John became quite impatient, so he proceeded to investigate farther, and found a blue velvet cap, which would suit no head but his. "We all have something but father," said Kate. "We have not got to the bottom yet, Kate, but here, what is this? here is another box." All order was now at an end, and the box was eagerly opened. There lay snugly in it, two bonnets, one of drawn pink silk on which Henry had pinned a slip of paper with this written: "For Kate, in place of the one which she gave Emma." Kate immediately put it on and looked up at her father. Her blue eyes were suffused - her cheeks were glowing - and her soft hair hung negligently in curls about her face. Her father felt that she was very beautiful; even Johnny felt it. "Why Kate," said he, "you look just like a picture." page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 THE SUNNY SIDE. "' Would not you like it, Emma?" said Kate; "I think it is a little prettier than the one Mrs. Brown gave you, and I would just as soon exchange as not." Emma would not listen to this plan--she was rejoiced to see Kate look so prettily. "' Here is the other," said Suzy, " whose is this?" "For Mother. Wear it to please me - Henry." This bonnet was of brown satin, matching in shade the dress, and was trimmed -on the outside with a wee bit of a brown feather, and on the inside, with delicate rose-colored ribbon. "My dear child!" exclaimed his mother, "how could he spend so much money on me. I am sorry,- for it never would do in the world for me to wear such a hat as that." "Why not, my dear?" "It is so dressy, Mr. Edwards." "Do put it on, Mother," said Emma. "Had I not better get another cap first?" "No, Mother, try it on just as you are," said Kate. She did so, and John clapped his hands. "Why Mother, you look almost as handsome as Kate. If you will wear that, I'll marry you when I grow up." John's offer raised a great laugh. "It takes two to make such a bargain, master Johnny," said papa. "Mother," said the girls, "'you never looked so well in anything in all your life." "It is really very handsome," remarked Mr. Ed- wards; "you must wear it of course, for Henry's sake." "But the feather, Mr. Edwards." "What is the matter with the feather? There is but little of it, and it is a pretty modest color, I am sure." HENRY'S BOX. 121l -Mrs. Edwards smiled. "I think it would not do o make any alterations in the bonnet," said he in eply to it, "since Henry has taken so0 much pains with the selection. Ah! here is something for me. As number of the' Review, with a receipted bill; what has not the boy thought of? I declare here is mother dress; here Jane, it is -for you. No one is forgotten." The box was turned upside down and shaken. John hauled over all the wrapping papers, and was rewarded for his search, by a package of confec- tionary. After this the family went to the sitting-room to talk the box over, and read Henry's letter, which was written as usual in fine spirits. "Do not be anxious, father, about the money which I have spent," he wrote, " it is much less than my board would have cost. I assure you I am very prudent with my salary, for I have a plan in mind, which will require most of it;- but more of this by and by. I cannot tell you how happy I have been in fitting out the box. I have been silly enough to lie awake nights, thinking of it. I hope the presents will suit all around. Do write to me, every one of you. A lady helped me in selecting the girls' rigging." If Henry kept awake that night, wondering what was said on the arrival of the box, he had company enough at the Parsonage. The. excited children made light sleepers, and the gray dawn of morning found the mother still awake and thinking of the absent ones. On Saturday the, question was discussed: 'whetho er, the next day being fair, the new bonnets should be worn? ; 9 page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 THE SUNNY SIDE. As it was now generally known that Henry had sent a box, Mr. Edwards thought it would be better to satisfy the curiosity of the people at once, and have the talk over with; besides, on putting the old bonnets by the new, they appeared quite too shabby to be worn. Mrs. Edwards consented to this ar- rangement, though if it would have pleased her hus- band and children equally well, she would have liked to take out the feather, lest she might "offend some of the little ones." As she expected, there was a stir in the Weston church the next morning, when the pastor and his family entered., Such stylish bonnets had sel- dom appeared there; and never before in the minister's slip. Kate, to tell the truth, was almost too handsome for Sabbath day; it was difficult to keep one's eyes off from her; but in this she sinned innocently. On Monday afternoon, the work being all done up, Mrs. Edwards sat down with her two daughters, to sew. Suzy, who was reading by the window, all at once dropped her book; "Mother, here is AMiss Cribby coming." ' Now, Mother, you will have to take it," said Kate, laughing;"shall not I call father to help you?" Mrs. Edwards smiled, but gave Miss Cribby a pleasant welcome as she entered. Miss Cribby made herself at home talked awhile about the weather - the state of the church - who were at the prayer meetings, and who were not- who were sick, and who were going to be married. These fruitful topics exhausted, she entered upon the real object of her visit. HENRY'S BOX. 123 " You have had a box from Henry, I hear." "Yes," quietly replied Mrs. Edwards, "he is doing very well in Boston, and has sent us a very valuable box. Katy dear, perhaps Miss Cribby would like to see what he sent." "Yes, Mama, I will get the things," said Kate, expressively treading on Emma's toes as she rose. Emma colored, and Suzy laughed outright, at which imprudence she was much frightened, and tried im- mediately to make amends for it by looking very grave. "I don't know what you will say to so many fine things, Miss Cribby," said Kate, as she came in laughing, " I look like a Yankee pedlar, with my silks and satins and ribbons and feathers." " I never !" said Miss Cribby, " why what a sight ! Well, I never see anything beat it. Henry always was my boy. N!ow, if he would only stick to col- lege, what a preacher he would make. Indeed, Mrs. Edwards! how much do you suppose he gave a yard for this silk. It must have cost a power of money; I hope he did not run in debt ?" Susan was so much amused, that she tittered out behind her book every now and then, and Mrs. Ed- wards sent her out of the room on an errand,- for poor Kate was having a hard time of it to keep her countenance. "I declare, Mrs. Edwards," continued Miss Crib- by, "what children you have got! Some folks has the luck a bringing 'em up, and you are certainly one of that sort. I don't suppose I had ought to say luck; it's example, I know. Them that live Christ as well as preach him, are blessed. There, Cather- ine Edwards, there are them bonnets* How dashy they be." " page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 THE SUNNY SIDE. "Yes," said Mrs. Edwards, " they are almost too dressy for us to wear, but Mr. Edwards thought we ought to wear them, after all the pains Henry had taken to get them." "Henry is a good boy," replied Miss Cribby, " but I do not know as he has quite judgment enough to be trusted with such matters. For a minister's wife now to wear a plume is a 'stumbling-block and rock of offence' to some folks. You must not mind me, Mrs. Edwards, you know I am plain-spoken." "I know you always mean well, Miss Cribby, and for myself I should have much preferred my bonnet without this feather, but as it is a little thing, I yield- ed to the wishes of my husband and children in the matter." "Well, I don't know," replied Miss Cribby, "I suppose you were right, and to tell the truth," added she laughing, "you did look as pretty as a pink in it." This was the last that was heard of the brown feather. CHAPTER XXIV. THE RETROSPECT. From the Journal.-"We are now alone not a child with us. We are again mutually dependant upon each other for society, as in our early married life; we are still happy together, but we miss the children and often feel solitary. Jane seems almost like a child, now. I am writing by an open window in my little sitting-room. How much I love Wes- ton; I love those distant hills over which for so many years I have looked for the sun-rising; I love this dear old elm, and watch its budding every spring with unwearied delight, for under its shade is my baby's little grave, and there by his side I wish to be laid. I hope we shall never be called to leave Weston. Sometimes I fear Weston will seek a young minister, and the parsonage will be wanted, and there will be a bride here again; but I will not trouble myself with these fancies longer. God has always been our friend, and I know he will not for- sake us in our old age. I look back over Mr. Ed- wards's life and labors here with deep gratitude. Many souls have been given him, as the 'seal of his ministry,' and Weston, under his pastoral care, has become one of the most thriving and moral villages in New England. A large proportion of the young whom he has trained, are professing Christians. With these blessings we have had no more trials page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 THE SUNNY SIDE. than have been for our best good. Deacon Jones, to be sure, is Deacon Jones still, but he has grown no worse; indeed, in some respects, I think his char- acter has improved. Deacon Emery is still one of our warmest friends. Infirmities increase'upon him, I see, but he bears up under them cheerfully. He has, in one way and another, helped us a great deal. He seemed to know by instinct when we came to a pinch, and would help us through if he could. I love him and his wife- I love all our people- I hope we shall live and die among them. I have not written very much in my journal lately, and I see I have not recorded Mr. Dodge's death. I think Mr. Edwards's influence over him was blessed to his good, for to every one's astonish- ment he left large legacies to the various benevo- lent societies, and also a pretty sum to the Weston church. Thinking of him generally recalls Miss Cribby. She is still as she ever has been, I believe, a good friend of ours, but it seems to me she grows more and more odd, as she grows older; at the same time her piety becomes more apparent. I think she seems to enjoy religion more now than she has done at any previous period of her life. I some- times love to think of her as I hope to meet her in heaven, when she shall have got rid of her ailing body. Yes, I do love this people. I do not think Mr. Edwards is as well satisfied with his life's work here, as he ought to be. He thinks he has not accomplished what he hoped to do, and has fallen much below his standard, and that one great reason, was his small salary, which cramped him so much during the early years of his ministry, when his habits were forming. I do not THE RETROSPECT. 127 know -there may be truth in this; I cannot tell what, under other circumstances, he might have done. I only know what he has done, and I thank God that his labors here have been so abundantly blessed. Henry is now doing finely, on a salary of a thou- sand a year. He gives himself, heart and hand, to every good work - is Superintendent in a Sabbath School, and active and useful in Dr. B's church He has had Kate in Boston at a fine school, for nearly two years. She is improving rapidly, and Henry, I think, is very proud of her. He writes me that she attracts a great deal of attention, but seems entirely unconscious of it, and is as simple and childlike in her manners as ever. He throws out a hint, now and then, about young Magoun and Kate, which I do not quite understand. I think Mr. Edwards and I will accept Henry's invitation and go to Boston, and look a little into matters for ourselves. Deacon Emery seconds this plan, and wishes us to take his new carriage. We should enjoy such a trip, very much, I do not doubt. Emily is now first Assistant in Miss H.'s school in Philadelphia, where she receives an ample sala- ry. I almost feel as if I must send for her to come home -I really want to see her; we have been separated most of the time for several years. She loves us all as much as ever. Somehow, our chil- dren, let them go where they will, never get weaned from home. Emma's simple and earnest piety, has been the means, I hear, of doing much good in Miss H.'s school. George has been supported through college, wholly by Henry' generosity, and he has graduated with honor. He is now in Philadelphia, page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 THE SUNNY SIDE. attending medical lectures, still assisted by his brother. He is, I believe, perfectly correct in all his habits. I know he is a strong Temperance man, but, alas! dear boy, he is the only one of our little flock who gives us no evidence of having been brought into the fold of Christ. He has been-a child of many prayers and tears. God grant that I may live to see him a devoted Christian; it seems to me I could then de- part in peace. But I must leave him in the hands of a covenant-keeping God. I could die for him, but I cannot change his heart. Susan is with Mrs. Brown at present, who would otherwise be left alone by the marriage of her daughter. I relinquished Susan with a sigh, for she was the last left to me. John is away at school, doing well, and hoping to fit himself for a preacher. By the time he is ready to go to college, I trust George will be able to take care of himself. How much I write and think about my children. It is a great comfort to me, now I am alone. I ought not to say alone, either, for our people are very kind to us. They seem like a large family. There is a great deal to enjoy in the life of a minister's wife. True, it has its peculiar cares and trials, but it has its peculiar comforts also. A heart loving to do good, finds an outlet at every point, while from a thousand little streams, kindness and affection flow in. I should feel lost without a " people." It is a great thing to have the opportunity of making so many friends in this world. A busy life enough have I found the life of a pastor's wife, but I can truly say that it has fully recompensed me. If I could feel that I had Aret its claims to the best of my poor abilities, I should look back upon it with great satisfaction." CHAPTER XXV. THE REWARD. WE have dwelt so long on the early domestic his- tory of this minister's family, that we can touch but briefly on the important events of later years. To begin with Henry; he, in the course of time, was taken into partnership by the firm which first employed him. He was prospered in his business, and he became rich, almost as rich as he deserved to be. Gold'which fell into his hands, " went about doing good." He made, as he promised to make, a noble-hearted, disinterested man.. In the early part of his business career, he sometimes felt the sacrifice which he had made of his literary tastes and ambi- tious projects; he felt this keenly when George graduated. As he listened to the hearty applause which followed his brother's eloquent oration, it cost him a struggle to keep down vain regrets at his own course; but he conquered these unhappy feelings manfully, and with all his heart and without a shad- ow of envy, he grasped George warmly by the hand, as he came elated from the platform. "God bless you, Doctor, you've done nobly," said he. When he was rich, he bought the old parsonage and gave it to his parents. It was well Mrs. Ed- wards had indulged in no anxious fears as to what home should shelter them in their old age--for her children knew how much she loved the old spot. page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 130 TRE SUNNY SIDE. Henry, in refitting it, took great pains to make as little change as possible; paper and paint, as nearly like the old as could be found, were chosen. His own little bedroom, he would not even have painted; for he wished to keep it just as it used to be. Thus there was a new parsonage - but no bride for it as yet; it was still the home of the minister and his wife. They seemed to be gently going down life's hill-side by an easy path-with no clouds in the sky, but the golden clouds of twilight. There was some change in the furniture of the sitting-room which we came near forgetting. Two very handsome, modern stuffed chairs had found their way there, one for each fireside nook. This was Suzy's work. She had bought them with the first money which she earned at miniature painting. She had great taste and skill as an artist, and pre- ferred to turn her accomplishment to some use. Henry had quite enough to do with his money," she said, " he ought to lay up something, and she would help herself while she could." The result of this commendable independence was rather too ro- mantic for a sober story, but as we profess to give the history of this family, it will not do to omit so important an item in the summing up. A young lawyer persuaded her to paint his miniature; , for," he said, " he was very anxious to make a present of it to his mother on her sixtieth birth-day." Susan never had painted -the miniatures of gentlemen, but he was urgent, and brought his sister with him to the young artist's room, and she at length consented. Impressions were left more indelible than those on the ivory, and the result of this double painting was --the first marriage in the family. THE REWARD. 131 We must say\ a word about Kate; our warm- hearted, joyous, beautiful Kate. Young Magoun, as- has been hinted, found out that she was a jewel of rare worth, a prize for any man-and he won her, and was worthy of her. It was delightful to see how she retained all her innocent simplicity of character, when she moved in the polished circles of affluence and fashion. Henry deserved much credit for this. When she first began to go into society, he-watched over her with almost a mother's care. He made himself her constant attendant in going to and from the brilliant assemblies for which the or- nament of her dazzling beauty was often sought. He encouraged her to confide in him, and she learn-- ed to tell him artlessly, all the pretty speeches which were made to her; and he with his manly good sense would tell her how little they were worth, and would direct her attention to those whose praises were valuable, and to the things which were valua- ble in a woman's character. Thus was she guarded against the dangers peculiar to her lot, and she came at last to turn with little difficulty from the unmean- ing flatteries of others, to seek his approval. Kate's was the second marriage. From being a child in the humble parsonage, she became mistress of one of the Boston palaces, and was none the less admired, for having added to beauty and worth, rank and wealth. She travelled in foreign lands-- she mingled in choice society everywhere- her every want was supplied, which money could supply; but she always continued to be little Kate Edwards. She was not to be spoiled; she never broke away from her early training; she was a sincere Chris- tian, and to her, as to her parents, Heaven was an page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 132 THE SUNNY SIDE. object of faith and hope, a future home for which she tried to live. With her sensitive conscience and her pious heart, she rested beneath the " shadow of His wing,to whom she had in the morning of her life, fled for refuge. Her husband also fully sym- pathized with her artless piety, and thus in their magnificent home, was lived over again, the earnest, simple, practical religion of the parsonage. Kate often went to see her parents, and Mr. 1Ma- goun once laughingly told them, "That nothing in Europe or America seemed to please Kate quite so much, as to ask her to trot over to Weston." Emma taught a few years in Philadelphia, spend- ing her summers principally at home. She devel- oped symmetrically, and became, though not a bril- liant, yet a very interesting, woman. During one of these summer visits, she received a call from a young clergyman of the name of Enfield. She had be- come acquainted with him in Philadelphia; indeed her acquaintance had been of such a nature, that she at once divined the object of his call. Her con- lecture was right, and --he was successful. It was therefore by no means difficult to persuade him to remain at Weston over the Sabbath, and it was but courteous then, that he should be invited to preach; and preaching as well as Emma's , friend" might be supposed to preach, it was not at all singular that he should please the people; and they being pleased, were the more easily reminded of Mr. Ed- wards's often repeated suggestion, that they should seek for a colleague with their old pastor; and as Mr. Enfield had every reason to be pleased with Weston, his acceptance of their invitation was only what might reasonably have been expected. The THE REWARD. , 183 society were now comparatively rich. A new par-s sonage had been built when the old one was sold; and the income of Mr. Dodge's legacy, together with two hundred a year which Henry paid an. nually to the church, enabled them to support both ministers comfortably. So Emma settled down among them. At first, Mrs. Edwards felt a little disappointed; she had secretly indulged the hope, that John would some day succeed his father; but this feeling soon gave place to gratitude. She found it a great comfort to have Emma near her, and be- came much attached to her son-in-law. Then she found also, that John's heart was elsewhere, and he had consecrated himself to the work of Foreign missions. His parents would place no obstacle in his way, and when the time came for him to go, they gave him up without a murmur, and cheerfully bade him farewell. Why should they not do so? They had long since given their children to God. George settled at " the West," and became suc- cessful in his profession. He threw himself on the "good side," in all public movements, was a strong temperance man, a lyceum lecturer, a warm advo- cate for- common schools, and a firm supporter of evangelical religion. He seemed to be every thing but a Christian. Once a year he made it a point to send for his parents to come out and visit him, and the journies were very beneficial to them. Henry (for we cannot end without a word more about him) became a resident of Boston. Among his many private charities, one deserves to be par- ticularly noticed. He made friends in various As- i' sociations of ministers, and they kept him informed of the wants of the most needy of their number; page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] 134 THE SUNNY SIDE. and many a country minister received, year after year, the best Quarterlies, and other Periodicals, and sometimes new and valuable books, without ever knowing the source from which they came. "Thus fell the blossoms of the almond tree." Our aged pastor and wife could look upon their children, and find them, with but one exception, at the head of Christian families - some wealthy, all influential. "They were remarkably blessed," say some; but this is not so. God deals with us with a more even hand than we are always disposed to be- lieve. The evil is largely tempered with the good; and those who wholly trust in Him, shall, even here, be " led into green pastures." Many a minis- ter's family, who have as cheerfully met the toils and privations of their humble lot, and as hopefully lived for the future as did this one, whose fortune we have followed, have been not less " remarkably " rewarded. Old age crept on kindly with our friends. The hopeful and loving mother had long seemed ripe for heaven, and calmly received her summons. George was sent for, to attend her in her last illness. He watched over her day and night, and she breathed her last in his arms. Her death was the means em- ployed to bring in the only wanderer from the Chris- tian flock, and she died full of faith that so it would be. There were no dry eyes in Weston, on the day when the minister's wife was buried. The people loved her with all their hearts, and mourned for her as one mourneth for a mother. They all came to follow her to her grave, which had been made, at het request, beneath the shadows of that elm tree THE REWARD. 135 -where lay her infant boy. All her children were there, save the one who was about his masters work, on the plains of India, and for him many prayers were offered that day. She died, but she lives still in Weston. Her earnest life, her affectionate heart, her winning ways, her simple piety, made her a- bright example which to this day, the good strive to imitate. Her mantle fell upon her now solitary companion. During the few remaining years of his pilgrimage, he seemed to listen more to her loving and hopeful voice, than when he had her by his side. He learned to look with her, cheerfully and with a grate- ful heart, upon his life's work. He ceased to mourn that he had " done no more," and thanked God, that he had been permitted to do so much. At length, he also "rested from his labors," and, followed by a weeping train, he was borne to his last home, be- neath the shade of that elm tree.
