Like and unlike
page: 0 (TitlePage) [View Page 0 (TitlePage) ] LIKE AND UNLIKE. BY A. S. ROE, AUTHOR OF "I'VE BEEN THINKING," "A LONG LOOK AHEAD," "TRUE TO THE LAST," "TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED?" "THE STAR AND THE CLOUD," "HOW COULD HE HELP IT?" ETC. NEW YORK: Carleton, Publisher, 413 Broadway, (LATE RUDD & CARLETON.) MDCCCLXII. page: 0[View Page 0] ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by GEO. W. CARLETON, In the Office of the Clerk of the United States Court, for the Southern District of New York. R. CRAIGHEAD, Printer. TO MAGGIE STANTON ROE a Ts i3Book IS DEDICATED AS A TOKEN OF AFFECTION BY HER FATHER. page: 0[View Page 0] "YES! man shall read aright, when he shall part With human schemes, and in the new-born heart Feel coursing new-born life; when from above Shall flow, throughout his soul, joy, light and love; And he shall follow up these streams, and find The One, the source of nature, grace and mind. There-he in God and God in him, his soul Shall look abroad, ahd feel the world a whole." DANA. page: 0-7[View Page 0-7] LIKE AND UNLIKE. CHAPTER I. "COME, Matilda, do now, like a dear, good girl, let me fix you a little before you go down to tea. Your hair is-all in a tangle, and this collar is all rumpled up; and your dress! how it does look! I do believe some of the hooks are off-- turn round, and let me see." Without reply, Miss Matilda Sterling, who had been stand- ing face to face near her good-natured nurse, and looking at her with a quizzical, but by no means ill-tempered, cast of countenance, while the above harrangue was being delivered, turned quickly round, and seemed quite as willing to have the inspection made as though .conscious that all had been right in that quarter. I' Of all things! three hooks are clean gone, and two only hanging by a thread. What upon earth, Matilda, have you been doing?" "Nothing in the world, Aunt Grizzle, but playing hide-and- seek in the lumber garret, with Kate Draper and Lizzie Bell. Ah, we have had a grand time of it!" ' I have no doubt of that, darling; but " "And to-morrow evening they are both coming here, and their brothers with them, and I mean to ask Patty Pearsall and Ellen Thomas to come too. It will make quite a tea- party, wont it, Aunt Grizzle?"' and the little lady turned rapidly round, and her very bright hazel eye was again fixed on her nurse. It must have been a very hard-hearted nurse, indeed, that could have said or done anything just then con- trary to the wish or will which was expressed in the counte- nance there upraised. It was not, indeed, such a very beau- 7 page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 8 LTWLK AND UNLIKE. tiful face; but then there was nothing out of the way; the combination of brow, cheeks, mouth, and eyes was, on the whole, pretty and expressive. There was depth of feeling, and perhaps something of impetuosity beaming from the eye, while the dimples that played so near the finely-arched lips, gave assurance of a readiness to be pleased, and no objection to a frolic. "Why do you not name your cousins? Are they not com- ing, too?" e "Well, I suppose I must ask them; but they are so stiff and fussy in their ways-we must not do this, and we must not do that-and we must behave so proper-and we girls don't care so much about what is proper-it will be time enough to be particular as to the proprieties when we are grown up; we are girls, you know, now, Aunt Grizzle, and we want some fun." Aunt Grizzle, as she was called, would, no doubt, if she had thought there was occasion for it, have given quite a disserta- tion on the propriety of the sentiments expressed; but she knew well enough that more was said than was meant; she would not have been afraid to trust her pet under almost any circumstances to act her own will, and have had no fear that there would have been either rude or improper conduct. She was, to be sure, only fourteen, but she had been nicely trained in all that regarded true delicacy and decorum; and although she liked, as she said, " to have some fun," it would be, as Aunt-Grizzle well knew, very harmless fun; a mere letting off of the vivacity that was playing within; and she did not believe there could be harm in that-for these rea. sons the only reply she made was- "I think you had better ask your cousins, though, my dear. Your aunt may think strange if you do not." "I will ask them, then, of course, aunty; but what is to be done about these hool?" "You must chang: your dress, dear; just wait a moment, though, until I fix your hair a little-these ringlets are all in a snarl; and you had better change your collar, too, Matilda." "Well, I will, if you think this will not do." "It is a good deal rumpled; and I want you to appear a little decent to-night, not only for your pa's sake, who always likes to see you in trim, but you know the new clerk will be here to tea, and " "Has he come, aunty?" "KE AND UNLIKE. 9 "Yes ; his trunk is up in his room, and I think he is down in the office. Just wait a moment longel, dear-there! I must have hurt you then "No, not much; have you seen the boy, aunty? is he a real country boy??" "Why, he is really from the country." "Oh yes, that may be, and yet he may not be what I call a country boy; he may have been brought up in the city, you know, and only been in the country a short time, just as I was last year." "I understood your pa to say that he had never been in the city before." "Then I know just how he looks, Aunt-Grizzle, and you see if it is not just as I say. How old is he?" "I believe your pa said he was seventeen; a pretty good sized boy though for his age." "I know now, Aunt Grizzle, just how he looks. He has got yellow hair--no not all yellow-the top of his head is white, and the long straight locks that hang down on his col- lar and over his ears are yellow; his face is freckled, not like Cousin Junius, but large black freckles; his nose is red; his eye-lashes are white, and his eyes, little grey specks, twinkling through them; and then his dress! I know just how comical that looks. His ooat is blue, or maybe snuff color-I guess it is snuff color-with brass buttons, a little scratched, and the waist behind away up in the middle of his back, with long skirts almost down to his knees; his trowsers are a kind of bluish grey, too short to reach his shoes; his stockings of mixed yarn, and his shoes great thick cumpers, tied with leather strings. There now, Aunt Grizzle, you see if I am not right!" Aunt Grizzle was not idle all this time, but kept her hands busy in arranging matters about the little lady and getting her in readiness for the evening meal. The hour was near at hand, and as they .were the only ladies to be at the table it would not do to be unprepared when the bell rang. She smiled and sometimes broke into a laugh as the different items in the strange figure Miss Matilda was describing were brought out, and the little lady herself laughed heartily, too. "I wonder why papa should have engaged a country boy to help him in his office, when we have so many nice smart boys here in the city. Are boys scarce here, Aunt Grizzle?" "Not very, I guess; but he has taken a notion to have one from the country; I heard him say the other day the boys in 1 page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 HTKE AND UNLIKE. town were not good for much, and you know what trouble -he has had with the two last." "Yes, I know, but is this one to live here or to board out?" "Oh, he will live here, of course. But there's- the bell! now, darling, you won't laugh, nor be ill-mannered, will you? Remember, the poor boy is a stranger among us, and may be he is very bashful." "Oh, I know he will be bashful--they always are-but I will behave my best, aunty, depend upon it. -I must do, you know, 'as I would be done by ;' that's your saying, is it not, Aunt Grizzle?" "It is no saying of mine, dear child, although 1 often repeat it to you. It is a Bible saying." "Oh, yes, so it is; well, I will think of it, and if I feel like laughing, that will stop me. Just pin this sash, aunty, and then I am ready." Mr. Sterling, like many of the merchants at the date of our story, who were in independent circumstances, lived in the upper part of his house, above his place of business. Water street was then occupied by respectable families, and it had been his place of residence for many yearn. The number, now, is of no consequence, for no vestige of its former appearance remains. Nor would one who has only known the city for the last twenty years be able to comprehend the vast change that has been made in that locality, nor scarcely to imagine how people of property could ever have consented to live in such a dirty, bustling thoroughfare! It was, how- ever, neither dirty nor bustling at the time we are treating of; and more especially that part of it which extended below the old Tontine. The houses were in general of three stories, plainly furnished, as most of the houses were in those days, but very comfortable as dwellings. Mr. Sterling was in the tobacco trade; he had confined his attention principally to the wholesale business; and for some years past, chiefly sold on com/pission -for, Southern houses. He had become a wealthy man, as wealth was reckoned then. Well acquainted with his business, he was yearly adding to his fortune, and do- ing it in a very quiet unostentatious way. In fact, he was by no means a man who wished to have it known how much he was worth, or how much he was making. He was exact in his dealings, shrewd but fair, in purchasing; careful to whom he sold, if on credit; but far removed from that little, grasping propensity which so contracts and spoils the souls of many. The first floor of his house was occupied with his business; "KE AND UNLIKE. " the front room as an office, and the remainder as a lumber- room; and this latter apartment was generally in a very unsettled state; everything seemed to be there only as about to be removed somewhere else; empty boxes standing cor- nerwise to the wall; kegs of tobacco, some standing upright and some lying just as they had been rolled in; piles of news- papers, stone jars, bladders of snuff, bundles of blue wrap- ping paper, balls of twine, some chairs that wanted either a leg or a back, and- many etceteras, that seemed not necessa- rily connected with trade of any kind. Dust, too, lay quite thick on many of the articles, as if they had been in their pre- sent position for a long, long time. The office was a little more orderly in its arrangments, but quite a plain affair; a high, double desk stood between the windows, covered with rather coarse baize, a very large ink- stand, a ponderous wafer-box, a japanned tin sand-box, and a long ivory-handled pen-knife adorned its top; and near at hand, against the wall, hung a bunch of Holland quills. This desk, however, was only used occasionally, now, for Mr. Ster- ling had been without a clerk for some time, and his own writing was done at a very respectable-looking counting- house escretoir, which stood one side of the large desk, and at which he sat in an easy leathern-bottom arm-chair. A few kegs of tobacco stood likewise in this room, but they were or- derly arranged against the wall; a deep shelf, too, which occupied one side-of the recess formed by the chimney, was covered with samples of tobacco in leaf, carefully labelled. There was no carpet on the floor, not even a rug under the feet of its owner. It had rather a dull appearance, but seemed to have been kept with proper care. The entrance to the office was through the hall-door of the house, and as that was of course usually open, an inner door, just beyond that which led into the office, secluded the dwelling proper from annoyance by comers and goers to and from the place of business. We will now go through the inner-hall door, and look at things up-stairs. A neat oil cloth covers the wide entry, and the stairs we ascend are very easy; the carpet is plain, but the rods shine brightly, and the balustrade is broad and firm; the door into the parlor opens from a small gallery at the head of the stairs, and we enter a spacious room with three windows fronting the street; the furniture looks old but of a very substantial kind, and a fine polish meets the eye from tables and chairs and book-case, and the figured iron grate. page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 T TKE AND UNLIKE. There -is no fire there now,-for it is early summer, and the back of the fire-place is concealed by white f)aper hangings cut into fringes; the carpet, too, is plain, but of a neat pattern, and the rug seems to have been used some time, and I yet looks none the worse for wear; a few pictures adorn the walls, one is a painting of Mount Vesuvius in eruption, an- other exhibits a ship at sea, battling with a tempest, and the moon just breaking through the clouds and throwings% r light upon the breakers from which the ship is trying to escape; and another represents a woodman with his axe and dog in a driving storm of snow, plodding steadily toward his home. The room has a very comfortable, home-like look, and gives an impression of substance and good taste. An adjoining room is used by the heads of the little family as their bed-room; it overlooks a neatly-paved back yard, in which is a fine, large button-ball tree. The entrance into this room is from the same passage way or gallery by which we entered the parlor, but we cannot go in now, for the mistress of the family sits there in an easy chair; she is in delicate health, and not able to mingle in family cares. But that she is a good housekeeper and a lady of correct taste, is evident from all that meets the eye. She is much beloved by her husband, and deserves all his respect and care, and there is no earthly wish she has, which he is not ready to gratify. He has no one but her and his daughter upon whom his affec- tions are concentrated-he has near relatives, but they are of such different views and tastes that he can sympathise but lit- tle with them, nor take much pleasure in their company. He is a very domestic man, too, and spends most of his time, when not in his office, by the side of -his partner, endeavoring to give her what aid he can in recovering from a long and dan- gerous sickness, and his hopes that she is gaining strength grow brighter every day. They have lived together for twenty years, and but one child is left to bless them with her presence, and for whom all their care is exercised, and she, too, has no reasonable wish that is not' most cheerfully gratified. She has not, as yet, been spoiled, for excellent care. has been taken of her moral education so far. Aunt Grizzle has- been in the family ever since its estab- lishment. She was at first an upper servant, but her faith- fulness, good principles and efficiency in management, had won the respect of her employees, and she was .now consid- ered rather as a friend than a servant. Her especial charge, "KE AND UNLIKE. 13 when not engaged around the person of Mrs. Sterling or in the affairs of the ihouse, was to superintend the lit- tle arrangements connected with Miss Matilda, and to see to it that everything in her room and about her wardrobe was in perfect order, as her mother felt quite anxious that she should be trained properly in that respect, believing, as she often said, 1" that much of the unhappiness of married life originates in the careless habits and untidy management of the wife." Aunt Grizzle was devotedly attached to them all; no labor ever seemed to tire her when either member of the family needed her services; but toward Matilda she probably enter- tained an affection as near to that of a .parent as it was possi- ble for one who never had a parent's experience. And, although there were no bounds to her wish to indulge her pet, she had good sense enough to know that indulgence was not at all times a kindness. And as Matilda had been trained to respect Aunt Grizzle, and was strongly attached to her, but little difficulty ever occurred when the good nurse happened to feel that Miiss Matilda could not- be, gratified. Mr. Sterling had been unfortunate in his last two clerks; they were both young men old-enough to know all the details of business and to feel responsibility, but their only concern seemed to be, besides that of receiving a good salary, to get through with their work as soon as possible, and do as little outside of that as they could with any grace. There was no manifestation of interest for their employer; they did not "throw themselves into the yoke," and work with a will. He soon found that in his absence customers were cavalierly dealt with, and in fact, that their minds were rather intent upon the pleasures and amusements of the past or coming evening, than on the daily duties of their station. Such help he did not need and would not endure. He had, therefore, for some time been alone. He had refrained from advertising from discouragement at his past failures, but at length wrote an advertisement and was on his way to the office of the New York Gazette, when he stepped into the counting-room of a firm with which he did business, to collect a check for loaned money; they were at that moment engaged in con- versation with a boy, who stood with his hat in hand awaiting, as it appeared, their decision in reference to employing him. Mr. Sterling took a seat, as he was invited to do, and of corrse could not help hearing what they said. page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] " .TWEK AND UNLIKE. "Is this all the recommendation you have?" said one of the partners. "I have no other, sir." L Of what use is such a paper as this? what does a priest know about business?" "I believe, sir, he does not mention anything in reference to my business qualifications; he merely gives what he thinks to be my character." ' "What can- he know about a young fellow's character. No doubt you always put on a demure face before him--and besides, I should think he was an old granny--some old Puritan risen from the dead-here, Sterling, read that. By George, I should think he was crazy, and you too, to think you was going to get a place in such a city as this on such a document." "Of course, sir, I did not expect to get a situation without giving my employers opportunity to try my abilities." C"We can't afford to be giving people opportunities; we want a competent hand that can go right into things." The youth made no reply, and waited patiently until Mr. Sterling had finished reading his letter of recommendation, and, as it was rather a unique article of its kind, we will give the reader a copy: "To all those to whom this may come greeting-This is to certify that I have known James Beaufort from his childhood-yea, even from his birth unto this day. I baptised him in his infancy. I catechised him in his childhood. I have conversed with him on his civil, religious and social duties, at divers times and at sundry places, all the way along through the years of his moral and physical growth to the present day. I have more particularly conversed with him on the important subject of his soul's sal- vation, and have gone with him through all the struggles of the new birth. And I have finally had the unspeakable pleasure of receiving him into church membership, and look upon him as a precious lamb of the true flock. And having noted his careful walk and conversation, do with much confidence commend him to all or any who may need his services, as worthy of all confidence. "Yours in the Lord, "LEMUEL LANGSTAFF, "Pastor of the Church of X in the Village Pleasant Vale, Dutehess Countv, State of New York." As soon as Mr. Sterling had finished the letter, he handed 'it to the youth, who, merely saying, " if the gentlemen should not suit themselves with a clerk, and should conclude to give me a trial, I shall be at the Cortland street House for a few days," made his obeisance and retired. "TTKF AND UNLIKE. 15 "Did you ever know such consummate folly! to send a young fellow to New York with such an epistle as that! and besides, Sterling, I have no faith in these religious clerks; they are generally soft-headed, and so conscientious that a little white lie startles them and makes them stare their eyes open as if they saw the . No, no; and then, if there is a pushing time and a little extra job to be done of a Sunday; oh,' their conscience wont let them!' 'they daresn't do it!' I wouldn't have one of them if he came recommended by a" the old priests in the country." Mr. Sterling made no reply; he was not a religious man himself, although very far friom having any such prejudices as troubled the gentleman who had been letting out his views so freely. He smiled at the earnestness manifested, for there were a great many unnecessary words thrown into the gentleman's harangue, manifesting considerable warmth of feeling; and Mr. Sterling could not help smiling to think how small a matter would sometimes wake up a man's wrath. His business was soon accomplished, and he bade them good- morning; but, instead of going to the Gazette office, he returned immediately home. It was in the afternoon, just as he had finished his dinner, that-he took his hat and walked over to Cortland street, and entering the bar-room of the stage-house, looked round to see if the individual he was in search of was there. Many were standing at the bar, and some seated in chairs were enjoying their segars; presently, he stepped up to a youth who was sitting with his back to the rest, and looking through the window at the passers by; his countenance had a dejected look, and he was evidently deep in thought, for, when Mr. Sterling addressed him, he started as from a reverie. "I believe I saw you this morning in Pearl street; you were looking for a situation." "I am, sir' yes, sir, I relnember seeing you." "Have you found a place to your mind?" "No, sir; I have applied to those who have advertised, but without avail. Some give one reason and some another. ITfear I shall be obliged to return home or go to sea. I sup- pose I should need no letter of recommendation to get on board a ship." "A sailor's life is a very hard life and a vety dangerous one, both to life and to morals." page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 16 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "I know that, sir; but it is an honest employment, and that I want and must have." "You have been brought up in the country?" "Yes, sir; I have always lived there." "Have you ever been in a store there?" "No, sir; I have lived at home and attended school until the last year." - "Ay, indeed! Your parents living? Excuses my ques- tions. I am a stranger to you, of course, and have no right to be putting impertinent questions; but I may possibly be able to help you with advice, if in no other way. I am an old merchant here." u' I have no hesitation, sir, in answering anything you may see fit to ask. I have nothing to conceal. I am poor and must depend upon my own exertions. My father died more than a year ago; his affairs were involved, and our 'estate had to be sold.. All that remains to us is a small cottage, once a farmer's lodge, which belonged to our place. My mother and 'two tisters are there now. They have means enough to keep them for a few months, and I have thought by coming to the city I would be more-in the way of being able to afford themi substantial aid than by remaining in the country. I might, no doubt, soon accustom myself to labor, so as to earn a livings on a farm; but I believed a- better chance offered in the city. I may have judged wrong, though." "You are well acquainted with figures, I suppose?-" "I believe I can say thatJI am. I have learned book- keeping also-that is, so far as I can learn it from books. Since I made up my mind to try what I could do here, I applied myself to such things as I supposed would be neces- sary-writing and arithmetic, and the principles of double entry. Of course, sir, my knowledge is only of that kind which the books could give me; but some whom I have called upon to-day have told me that all that is of no account." "Yes, it is of -some account. It shows that at least you have a determination to do something, and that is a good deal. You may not be able at once to take charge of a set of books; but if you have the will, and are apt to learn, all the difficulties will soon vanish. "I should not fear them, sir, if I could only have a chance to try; but my letter of recommendation, I find, is worse than nothing. I knew it would read strangely to those who "KE AND UNLIKE. 17 did not know the clergyman who wrote it. I wish it might have been differently worded; but you know, sir, it would- have been rather rude in me to have offered any suggestions to the old gentleman after having asked him for a letter. I supposed, if I could bring a letter that would give me a fair character, my abilities would be known on trial; but it seems that it is not the way." ,.Your letter, I own, is rather a singular document; but still it is entitled to credit, and you must not be discouraged. You have not been anticipating a large salary, I suppose- that is, not at the start?" ' "By no means, sir. I do not suppose I can more than get enough to pay my board, at least for six months, and it may be not for a year." 1"Well, my young friend, to be plain with you, I will say at once that I want a clerk. I was on my way to put in an advertisement when I stepped into the office where vou were. Your letter satisfies me in regard to a very important requi- sition in the person I want-I mean the fairness of your reputation; and, as you -say, your aptness for business must be proved by trial. If you will call to-morrow morning at 'Water street, I think I shall be glad to make some arrange- ment with you." "At what hour shall I call, sir?" "At nine o'clock." "I will be there, sir. And I feel very grateful to you, sir, for taking the trouble'to call here, and for your kind treat- ment." But the tea bell has rung long ago, and Aunt Grizzle and her charge have. been some time at the tea-table. Very little is said by any one present but by the head of the family. Aunt Grizzle pours out the tea and sips her own very quietly; Miss Matilda feels and acts very naturally ;,she has no occa- sion to be on her guard against laughing at their stranger guest. She does laugh at times as her father says some plea- sant thing, and when she' does so, looks at the youth who is seated opposite to her at table as though she wished to have him join with her. She wishes to make him, feel that he is at home, and that her papa is not such d dreadful man that those under him cannot laugh before him. She is careful also to wink to Aunt Grizzle when his cup is out, and to hand .the cake, which stands nearer to her than it does to him. She feels very, very far indeed from laughing at his expense. Her ideas of what he would be like are-all at fault; neither the page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18 LIKE AND UNLIKE. color of his hair nor his eyelashes, nor the size of his eyes, nor his complexion, nor dress, are in one singular particular like the picture she had drawn. Nor is he peculiarly bashful; he is indeed quite reserved, speaking only when addressed by some one at the table; but there is no awkwardness in his behavior., She thinks he has a sad look, and guesses he has v not a very good temper, or at least that he might be easily put into a " flurry "-a word Aunt Grizzle always used to denote an excited state of mind-because his eye is so bright and dark, and looks with such earnestness at one when he is spoken to. As to his hair, she is almost tempted to wish her own was like it, it appears so very soft and silk-like--it is not black, not so dark even as his eye. The youth has finished his meal, and just asked to be excused, when the door of the parlor is opened. At Mr. Sterling's the parlor was their eating-room, sitting-room and reception-room; and if friends called while at a meal, his first word to them was, to take a seat at the table, and join the circle around it. A middle-aged lady entered, immediately followed by a young miss. "Ah, sister F , good morning! Glad to see you, come, take a seat with us.-Mary, how do you do? Come, sit down.-Matilda, dear, get a chair for your cousin.-Sister F , take that seat the young gentleman has just left. Come, Grizzle will give you as good a cup as you'd get at home." "Oh, thank you, brother, I prefer to wait until I get home. Don't let us disturb you." "By no means, Sister F ; I never let anything do that, without the house should take fire or some one get hurt. I like to take my time at the table, and glad to have friends join with me if they will. Another cup, if you please, Grizzle. I have got to be a great tea-drinker, sister F ; -I think as much of my tea as I do of my port." Mr. Sterling during this time had not risen from his seat, and the lady had taken one of the large arm-chairs near a window. She was quite gaily dressed, and was not only good-looking now, but had evidently been, in earlier years, quite handsome. There was, however, when her, features settled into repose, an austere cast to their expression, as if it would not sound strangely to hear from those compressed lips some utterance of displeasure or dissatisfaction. , "Caroline not out yet?" said the lady. "KE AND UNLIKE. 19 "No, not yet; gaining, though, every day." ' I don't see how she can be gaining, as you say, if she keeps cooped up in her room so; it is impossible. You ought to insist upon her coming out. I should think she would want to get out as soon as possible, if for nothing else, to be at the head of her own table." Aunt Grizzle had just gone out to carry some toast and tea into Mrs. Sterling's room. "Oh, she can't, she can't, Sister F ; she is weak yet, and very nervous; a very little upsets her. And as to the table, we get} along nicely, I assure you; Grizzle makes an excellent cup of tea." "Who is that young fellow that went out just as I came in?" "That is my new clerk." "You haven't hired him, have you?" "Well, not exactly; he is here on trial. How do you like his looks?" "I don't know anything about his looks; he carries rather a stiff head, I should think; but I am glad to hear you say you have not hired him, and that he is only on trial, for I am set upon having you take Junius; you know I spoke about that matter to you the other day, and I almost wonder you should have thought of getting any other person until I saw you." Mr. Sterling just then had slipped some of his tea down the wrong way, for he was taken with quite a fit of coughing, and for some time could make no reply. So the lady con- tinued : "I told you that although Mr. Roff wanted to get Junius into that concern of the Leavenworths, yet that I pre- ferred to have him with you; of course, you know it would be much better for all round-it would be all in the family." Mr. Sterling knew that, but did not think more favorably of the matter on that account; he had not, however, suffi- ciently recovered from his spell of coughing to do anything farther than nod his head in assent. "You say you have made no positive arrangement with this person." "No, no, not positively; I am to try him first and see how I like him." \ "Who is he? what do you know about him?" "Oh, well, all I know is, that he has a good recommend page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 LIKE AND UNLIKE. from his own minister ; it seems he is a professor of religion, and you know he ought of course to be trustworthy." The lady colored a little at this appeal to her own con- sciousness, but she had so often ,been told by Mr. Sterling that some professors were no better than they ought to be, and believing that the remark was designed as a side thrust,- she could not help replying to it. "Now, I don't want any of your innuendoes, Brother James. I know you don't think any better of him on that ac- count, and I don't believe it will weigh one feather in raising him in your estimation ; and, besides, what persuasion is he?" "Never asked him! I guess he's a Methodist." "Then don't have anything to do with him." "No good people among them?" "I say nothing about that; but don't you hire him; mind me-their principles are very loose." - I don't know anything about that. I look at the prac- tice, you know. I judge you all by that." "But let him be ever so good, you surely could not have more confidence in him than in our Junius--your own nephew!" "It is not altogether the fact in reference to character which I wish to be assured of; there is little chance for one who might not scruple to take a trifle that was not his own; there is but little change lying round, and neither silks nor laces to be cabbaged. I want a youth that will be ambitious to please and to get ahead; one who feels that everything depends upon his tfaithful attention to my interests." "And don't you think Junius will be faithful to you, and S much more likely to be than a stranger?" "It may be so, and it may not be so; but the long and short of the matter is, Sister F , this youth is now here on trial; if he suits me, I shall feel in honor bound to hire him." "And take him into your house and make him a companion for your daughter." The young folks had withdrawn for purposes of-their own, and Aunt Grizzle was in the adjoining room in attendance on Mrs. Sterling. "That is a matter I did not take into consideration, Sister F , I assure you, and I think hardly worth mention- ing." "That is the way you always talk, James; things that are of most consequence you seem to care little about; but I shall T,TR AND UNLIKE. 21 not rest satisfied to have it so. Does Caroline approve of such a measure?" "Bless your heart, I don't know; we never talked about that bearing of the case; in fact, I don't think Carrie thought of it any more, than I did." "Strange parents you are! you are not fit, either of you, to have the care of that child; in fact, you are not doing justice by her. Now, James, I am serious; I am in earnest; I do feel that something ought to be done for Matilda; here she is now fourteen years of age; in two or three years she will be a young lady; you know her ways are not lady-like ; she is quite careless about her person, and her address is of the very plainest kind; here she is, most of the time hanging round Grizzle and learning her ways; before you know it, she will be a perfect hoyden; and -here you are, a rich man, and every body knows it, and she likely to be your only heir. She ought to be educated for her position. She ought to be taught a little about the world and what is in it, and how she should conduct herself in it. She ought to be associated with girls of her own standing and prospects, where she will be led to feel something of her own importance. You know there is great danger in a young girl situated as Matilda is, forming too low a standard. You would surely be mortified if, when she is old enough to be married, she should throw herself away upon some fellow of a low family. I know it would mortify me dreadfully, although she is only my niece." "Oh, Sister F , what creatures you women are to be looking out for breakers. Why, Till is but a baby yet, my. little pet; it will be time enough to put womanly airs on her when she gets over riding on my knee. But where are you going?", "Only in the other room, to see Caroline." "Now, look here, Sister F , don't, I beg of you, bring up any of these matters and trouble poor Carrie about them; it will only set her head wild and keep her from sleeping all night.". The lady made no reply, and Mr. Sterling said no more, for he knew his sister too'well not to know that if her mind was intent upon an object, anything he could say would be of little avail, so he continued sitting alone at the table, sipping his tea and inwardly lloping that his new clerk might prove so efficient that he should be able with confidence to make a bargain with him, otherwise he feared there would be no way but to take Junius--an alternative not at all to his mind. page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 22 - TRF, AND UNLIKE. Mrs. Roff, the lady who has just retired, was one of those beings who can never rest satisfied within their own sphere of duties, but must be bustling round into every circle where they can have the least pretensions to any interest, and endea- voring to set things right or to arrange them according to their own views of what may be proper. Mr. Roff, her hus- band, was doing a large business, and whether very prosperous or not, the world gave him credit for being so, and Mrs. Roff strengthened public opinion by giving large entertainments and attending to all the conventionalities of style. Her house was handsomely furnished; servants in plenty were at her call; her daughters attended fashionable schools; her pew in church was in the very choicest locality, and her milliner and dress- makers the most select. It did not seem to hinder the resort on the part of Mrs Roff to any new and eccentric fashion, or the exhibition of much display at home or abroad, the fact that she went regularly to the communion-table and repeated, Sabbath after Sabbath, the prayer " to be delivered from the pomps and vanities of this wicked world." How she recon- ciled the prayer with her conduct was her own business; somehow she did it, for there can be no doubt but Mrs. Roff thought herself not only consistent, but to be really an exem- plary character. She was a manager of the Widows' Society; she subscribed to the Orphan Asylum; she was first directress of a church sewing society; and, above all, belonged to a circle of ladies which met weekly fol prayer at each others houses. It would not be proper for any one to doubt, there- fore, the piety or consistency of Mrs, Roff. The good woman was ofren troubled with doubts; but they were exercised in reference to others, not herself. It was a great mystery to her how such and such persons could get along with their profession and yet give so sparingly, or perhaps refuse to give altogether,' when she called for alms in behalf of some of the benevolent objects above named, or for some object not included in that calendar, for Mrs. Roff was ever ready to set off on a begging tour-sometimes, we fear, without due examination asuto the merits of the case. Mrs. Roff was troubled with doubts likewise as to the cha- racter of some ladies, professors like herself, who never attended the praying circle, although often invited; their excuses did not satisfy her mind, and she often made it a topic of conversation after their exercises were over, anc seemed to lament with the rest over the coldness of Christ- ians in general, and some in particular:', who manifested no L TRKE AND UNLIKE. 23 heart for such privileges; and among this number she counted her sister-in-law, Mrs. Sterling. With all the influence she possessed over this relative, and that was of no trifling amount, she had never been able to induce her attendance. Once, indeed, the lady had been persuaded to meet with them, but only once. The true reason. perhaps had not been given, although one that Mrs. Roff never could be satisfied with was stated as of sufficient weight with Mrs. Sterling. "James," she said, meaning her husband, " does not ap- prove of it; he thinks women had better do their praying with their own children, or in their closets. He may be wrong; but although he does not of course forbid my going, yet I prefer not to do anything which he thinks I had better not do." ; Mrs. Roff had no such notions of obedience, and therefore thought the excuse by no means valid, and as she had set her mind upon accomplishing what she thought a very meritorious work-a real missionary effort--had left no opportunity un- tried to bring about such a desired result. For some time, Mrs. Sterling had been too unwell to leave her house or her room, but she was now convalescent, and as Mrs. Roff thought, quite well enough to take her place again at the head of her family, and that she was merely a little nervous and full of conceits. The good woman had therefore come this evening to have a serious talk with her about one or two matters which ought to be attended to and which, as Mrs. Roff said, " no one else would speak to her about if she didn't;"- which very likely was the truth. In addition, however, to the bur- den upon her mind that had brought her to her brother's house, another item must now be included, andswhich had obtruded itself since she had been there, so that when Mrs. Roff rose and left her brother sitting at the table, and started for the invalid's room, quite a budget of crooked circum- staiices lay coiled up in her heart, and it must be let out and things put into a different shape. Mrs. Roff was not a person of violent temper nor what we usually call a bad temper. But she was easily excited; im- pulsive by nature, she was often too hasty, both as regarded her feelings and her conduct. Unfortunately, too, self had gained an ascendancy in early life, and had never been dis- placed; and she was, blindly no doubt but really, under that tyrant's supreme control. All the good she did,or tried to do, was magnified inordinately to her own view; her own deficiences, by the same power, were veiled from her sight. page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 LIKE AND UNLIKE. She might indeed make mention of them to others, and even go so far as to lament them; but they were all hidden weak. nesses. She was very confident no one could point them out, and she never directed attention to them by making mention of any one particular failing. She generalized always when on that topic. Mrs. Sterling, on the other hand, did not seem to have any very complacent feelings toward her own indi- viduality. She never, indeed, made much ado about her sins or short-comings; how much she felt them, one must have been very intimate indeed to have formed any opinion, for she seldom, if ever, made her own feelings a subject of con- versation, either in connection with religion or matters in general. She did not think her own opinion of sufficient con- sequence to allow it to intrude upon uncertain territory, and if at any time her advice was asked and given, it made no disturbance in her breast if it was not taken. "Yet in your room, I see! I was in hopes, Caroline, to have met you in the parlor.; you are surely well enough now. A little pale; but that is to be expected where one keeps shut up from day to day. And how are you to gain strength sitting here? It will never do, depend upon it! You will get so, by and by, as really to be unable to stir from your, chair or your bed." Mrs. Sterling did not attempt to interrupt the harangue, for it was properly such--delivered standing, not at the door, to be sure, but close to the large easy chair in which the invalid was seated. A flush on her cheek was all the sign she gave that she felt the impropriety of the address both in matter and manner. "Take a seat, sister. Grizzle, will you hand a chair? and you may remove the tray." "You will take another cup of tea, and a little more of this toast-surely do, Mrs. Sterling?" "No, thank you, Aunt Grizzle; no more to-night. Do take a seat, sister. How are you all at home?" "We are well--pretty well. I have had, to be sure, a headache all day, and I suppose some persons would have thought they could not leave the house or even their room; but, if we all give up to trifles, nothing will ever be accom- plished." There was a pause for a moment, as Grizzle, taking up the tray, left the room. "I almost wonder, Caroline, that you allow yourself thus to address Grizzle. Such familiarity is not in place, depend "KE AND UNLIKE., 25 upon it; you will have her soon taking you to do for what- ever may not suit her fancy. Servants must be made to know their place, and to keep it." " Oh, well, sister, we do not look upon Grizzle in the light of a servant now." " What else is she, pray ?" " Well, she serves us no doubt, and most faithfully too, and never seems to think she can do enough for us, and we pay her wages; but she has, you know, been with us a long time. We have become much attached to her. And as Matilda has always called her Atint Grizzle, sometimes James and I give her the title too." " Well, well, each one for their notion; but you will be sorry for it yet. Such people can't bear familiarity. But I want to talk with you, Caroline, about several things, and thought I would run round this evening; but I must be in haste, for this is Thursday, you know." " Oh, yes; I remember, there is a meeting this evening. Do many attend ?" " No, Caroline. I am sorry to say it, a great many that ought to be there, never come. For my part, I don't know what people mean; they profess one thing and practise another." " That is too true with us all, no doubt; but we cannot always tell in regard to such matters. Some would doubt- less like to be there who for some cause cannot go. How good it is that He whom we profess to serve knows our hearts and circumstances, and will judge us not according to external appearance." "That is very true when properly applied, Caroline; but we can only judge of the heart by the conduct. If people stay away firom church or firom our prayer-meeting, we can only conclude they have no love for them; and we must con- clude so-there is no help for it." " Doubtless, if they abstain from attendance when no pecu- liar obstacles prevent; it manifests that they have no desire to be there." " And is not that a shocking inconsistency-a professor of religion, and not love prayer-meetings ?" " They may love to pray, for all that. Perhaps the services may be unprofitable; perhaps even offensive." "Unprofitable ! offensive ! that is strange language, Caro- line. And pray, may I ask is that the reason why I have 2 page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 LIKE AND UNLIKE. - so long tried in vain to induce you to attend our private meeting?" "No, sister, it is not. I have given you the true reason. In matters that are not essential, I am persuaded my duty is to yield to my husband's wishes; but I must say, although, to gratify you, had he never objected, I should have attended; yet, from my experience at the meeting I did attend, it would have been merely to please you, and not from any anticipation of being benefited myself." "Not benefited! and such excellent prayers! such ear- nest pleadings at the throne of grace! What can you mean, Caroline?" "s I cannot help it, sister. To me such performances were by no means edifying. Some were intolerable for length and for needless repetitions; some were, to my mind, irreverent; and some, by their peculiar manner and the tone of voice, reminded me of the prophets of Baal at Mount Carmel. It was not, to my mind, the way to address our Heavenly Father, who is always ready to give us what we truly need, and what we sincerely ask for in Christ's name.' In all Mrs. Roff-s experience she had never been thus met before; but she was a prudent woman when she had an end in view, and could restrain her feelings. She saw now that it would not do to press matters; the subject of the prayer- meeting had better be dropped. It was her intention to have proposed to her sister Sterling, as she was not, or thoughlt she was not, able to go out, that a meeting should be held at her house; but at present she would say nothing about it. She would get out of this dilemma the best way she could. "As to that, Caroline, we may differ; but I would cer tainly not urge the matter. I enjoy them; I feel refreshed by them. All certainly have not the same gifts; but if they are sincere, we must pass over peculiarities, and make the best of it." "Certainly, sister-certainly, by all means; but I think, from what I have seen of prayer-meetintgs, sufficient care is not taken to allow only such, to lead the devotions awho not only have a fair character for consistent piety, but who have intelligence enough to firame simple petitions in a plain, intel- ligible form, and when they have asked for what we want, know when to stop." "I don't say but you are right, Caroline." "KE AND UNLIKRE. 27 There was a few moments' pause now, as Mrs. Roff was collecting her thoughts for another subject. "I wanted to talk with you a little about Matilda. In fact, it was my principal object in calling; but this old sub- ject has come up again, and I don't know that we shall ever see alike about it; but that is neither here nor there. You know, I suppose, that we are going to send Mary to board- ing-school? Mr. Roff and I think it high time she was where she can have some advantages which she cannot have at home. Girls, you know, want to be trained by one who makes a business of it; where their manners, and all that, will be regulated properly; where they will be under more restraint than at home-in fact, be finished off as ladies. Mary is very anxious to have her cousin with her, as it will be so pleasant to have her for a roomrnmate. The school is highly spoken of-indeed, it is patronized by the very first people in the city.- The Misses M--, at Troy." Mrs. Sterling was much agitated, as the fiesh color in her face, and the rapid motion of her fan, clearly manifested; and it was some moments before she made reply. "That is a new idea, sister-something I have not thought of. Have you mentioned the matter to James?" "' Not a word! That is, I did not enter into particulars. You know he is very queer about 'such matters, very thoughtless; but you must feel, that as Matilda is now get- ting to be quite a big girl; if ever she goes, she ought to go soon." "That is true; but" There was so long a pause after this "but" that Mrs. Roff took courage to proceed further. "You know how it is with you--much of the time you are complaining-the child is a good deal left to herself--a father is no fit person, at least her father is not, to regulate all the little matters about a daughter's behavior; and, indeed, I say it with -all kindness, Matilda, though an excellent child and a good scholar,'is quite careless of her manners; if left so, she will be mortified by and by, and so will you; now remember, I say this in all kindness, I don't wish to interfere, I only propose the measure." Nothing could have been better calculated to gain the good will and control the understanding of Mrs. Sterling, than the latter part of this address, delivered at it was with that peculiarly placid manner which Mrs. Roff could at times assume. page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "I thank you, sister, for your kind interest. I know on some accounts it might be well for Matilda to have advan- tages such as you name; but is she not very young to send away from home?" , "Just the age, depend upon it; and only to think how pleasant it will be-the two cousins to be together! We want them, you know, to be intimate--the same flesh and blood. I look upon Matilda just as I do upon one of my own. Now I want you to think of the matter--there will' be six weeks yet before the term commences-plenty of time to get her ready. You talk over the thing with James-he will do, I know, about such an affair just as you may think best. And there is another thing I wish to say a word to you about- although of this I do not wish you to say a word to James- that is, I do not wish you to let him know that I have spoken to you on the subject." "Oh certainly not, if I can avoid it." "Well you know there is some chance that you may have a young man here in the house with you." "The boy in the office you mean?" ".Yes, I say young man, for he is pretty nearly grown up I should think-I am in hopes James may not engage him--he is only here on trial-it is just the place where I wished our Junius to be-don't you think it would be much better to have one of your own kindred in the house than a stranger?" "I should have liked Junius, certainly." "Well I am in hopes to accomplish that yet, and if James consults you, why you can very easily persuade him that for very many reasons he had better not have a stranger right inl the midst of your family, it may be very unpleasant. Junius would be, you know, like a son; you could trust him to wait upon Matilda or to wait upon yourself. Oh I am so grieved the more I think of it, that James did not speak to me befolre he ever took this young fellow on trial-but if we both work together, we can bring the thing right, no doubt. But I am afraid I have talked your head all into a whirl, so good night, sister." And giving Mrs. Sterling an affectionate salutation, she arose. "I will see you again to-morrow or next day- good night." It was quite true that she had talked Mrs. Sterling's head into a whirl, and for some time she sat reclining the wearied member against the back of her easy chair, and closing her eyes, tried to let the matters go for the present-her thoughts "KE AND UNLIKE. 29 were too troublesome for her weak brain. Very soon her husband came in, and guessing the truth in regard to the effect of his sister's visit, took a seat quietly by her side, placed her hand gently in his own, and wishing to let her recover by rest, spoke not a word. CHAPTER II. WHEN Mr. Sterling went into his office the next morning, it was with some feeling of curiosity in reference to the appearance of things there. He had purposely given no directions as to what ought to be done-he wished to ascer- tain whether the youth had any idea of setting himself to work. Never before, that lie remembered, had everything looked in such good condition-it had been thoroughly swept and dusted, the tumblers and water-pitcher shone as though Aunt Grizzle herself had been at them; and as he took- his morning paper up and reposed himself in his large arm-chair, he felt a degree of satisfaction in the aspect of things which 'he had not realized for a great while. Mr. Sterling, like many- others, felt happier when everything was neat and orderly about him, and yet was not himself very expert in thus arranging them. As he happened to glance his eye from his paper into the adjoining room, he thought he missed the sight of some well remembered objects; and instinctively impelled, at once arose and walked in to see and satisfy him- self; he could scarcely believe it was the same old lumber- room, everything had been placed in order, the boxes arranged side by side against the wall, the kegs stood in order, the old papers folded and piled by themselves, the floor swept, the walls stripped of cobwebs, and the windows made as clean as a good brushing could make them. It really looked so inviting, that he at once concluded, durilg the heat of the day, to make it a sitting-place; it would be much cooler than his front office. As he came back to resume his seat, the young man, who was waiting at the desk, turned toward himn and said: (' I have taken a liberty, sir, which perhaps I ought not to page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 30 TTAR AND UNLIKE. have done, in arranging things in that room without asking you." "You have done just right. I am pleased at seeing it look so orderly. You may go for the mail, now, James--you know the way to the post office?" "I think I do, sir--in William street?" "Yes, just turn up the first slip, that will lead you to it." A few moments after the youth had gone out, Matilda came rushing into the office, and coming up behind her father, put her arm around his neck, and leaning over his shoulder as she sometimes did when he was reading the papelr. "Papa, what's the news this morning? Anything that mamma will like to hear?" "Can't say yet, my darling; have only just taken the paper." "Well, pa, I will tell you what I have come for; you know I am to have some company this evening?" "No, who says so?" "I say so, and mamma says I may-is not that enough?" "Well, what then?" "Why you know I must have some oranges, and nuts, and sugar plums, and almonds, and raisins, and ever so many things. " "Well go and get them." "Yes, but who will go with me to bring them home?" Aunt Grizzle." "But she has to be busy making the cake and the jelly, and all the nice things." "Then I will go with you." "Oh, thank you-and now there is another thing: mamma wants to know what you think you shall conclude about this- young-young, what shall I call him-young gentleman?" "Yes, is he not one?" "I think he is, and Aunt Grizzle has been telling mamma that there has not been anyone in this house that has had such gentlemanly manners as he has; but what mamnma wants to know, is whether you think you shall enoage "Why does she wish to know that?" "Because, you see, if you have concluded to keep him, she thoulght it would be proper to ask him to join my party this evening, but if not, she said it might not be best--and then there is another thing she wants--she wishes to see that letter you spoke to her about-some queer letter from a cler.- E A. ' LIKE AND UNLIKE. 31 gyman. She says she has an idea that she knows the man or did know him when she was a girl. Have you got the letter?" "No, darling, I have not." "Well, then, what is to be done about it?" "About what?" ( Oh, papa, you are so taken up with the paper, that you- don't answer any of my questions-what shall I tell mamma about all these things?" "About what things, my darling?" "Well, first about the boy, or young man, or young gen- tleman, or whatever he is-do you mean to engage him?" "I think I shall." "Then about the letter-can mamma see it?" "Yes, yes, no doubt; when James comes in I will ask him for it." "Then we had better ask him to attend my party this evening." "By all means." "Then that is all settled. Oh, no! one thing more--who shall ask him?" "Why, ask him yourself; you have invited all the rest, why not you ask him?" "Well, I will try; but " "But what?" "Oh, you know, papa "What do I know?" "Oh, you know--well-he is so different from what I expected." "What did you expect? that I was going to get a monkey?" "Oh, no; but I thought, as you told us he was firom the country, he would be like the boys I saw at Plainville last summer. I had just as lief speak to them as not. But he is not at all like a- country boy, or any other that I have ever seen." "Ay, indeed; well, I can't say that he appears to me so very different fromn other boys of his age. Do you not think he behaves with propriety?" "Oh1, yes; he is almost too proper. You know, papa, I don't care to have folks too proper." "You don't, ha! well, you had better tell that to mamma, she will be for giving you a lecture. A pretty ' how-do-ye- do'-don't like folks to be too proper!" page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "Oh, well, you know what I mean, papa. I don't like folks -young folks, like me, I mean-to be too stiff, too stuck up, afraid to do this, because it won't be genteel, and they can't do that, because, 'What will Mrs. What-do-you-call-em think?" "Oh, you pussey! I'm afraid, Tilli, you are a spoiled child." "Not a bit of it, papa; do I not mind whatever you and mamma say?" "Yes, you do, my darling." And -after giving her a gen- tle shake, and then a gentle squeeze, followed up with a kiss, the fond father held her off at arm's length, fixed his eyes upon her smiling, dimpled face: "Now, darling, tell me what makes you afiraid to speak to James, and ask him to your party?" "Oh, I am not afraid; you know it is not that; but, you- see, he has such a look; it is not a cross look, nor an imper- tinent look, nor a bold look. I can't hardly tell what it is; but, you know, he fixes his eye steadily on you when you speak to him, and seems to think of every word you say, and seems so serious about it. He has something of a sad look, do you not think, papa?" "Poor fellow, he has some reason for it. Treat him kindly, my darling-he has no papa." In an instant the father saw the deep flush mantle his darling's cheek, and the tear start to her eye. She could say no more, and as some one was entering the office, she turned to depart; it was young Beaufort; he handed the letters to Mr. Sterling, and was about to return to his desk, when Matilda, looking up to him with a pleasant smile upon her countenance, said- "' I am to have a little party this evening, and I should be glad to have you for one of the company." "Thank you, Miss; you are very kind." "You will surely come in, then?" "I will do so, if it will be a favor to you; but I fear I shall not add to the .pleasure of your party, I shall be such a stranger." "Oh, you will soon know them all. I shall expect to see you there, most certainly." And the happy girl, glad that she had accomplised the somewhat dreaded task, left the office, and was on her way through the hall, when young Beaufort at once stepped after her, and overtook her just as she had passed the inner door': "Miss Sterling, please excuse me for intruding upon you; "KE AND UNLIKE. 33 but I wish to ask you if my absence will make any material difference to you? I thank you, most truly, for your invita- tion; but can you excuse me this evening?" "I will excuse you, if you wish me to; but not for the rea- son you named--that of being a stranger; for you know this is to be your home, and you will soon be acquainted with all our friends. But I shall not at all think hard of you if you do not come in-not by any means-only I should like to introduce you to my companions; some of the young gentle- men you may like very much. I think you would like my Cousin Junius, and he would like you." "You are very kind; if I remain here, I shall certainly be most happy to form any acquaintance you may see fit to introduce me to." "Oh, but you are going to remain with us, are you not?" The youth colored deeply as he replied: "That is not for me to say; your father will decide that." "Oh, then I know you will, for'papa says he shall keep you." This was almost too nmuch for the wrought-up feelings of Beaufort; it was an unexpected ray of hope into a mind full of intense anxiety as to his lot. Matilda noticed his emotion; she thought at once of her father's tone of voice whenl -he said to her, " be kind to him, he has no father," and turning away to hide her own feelings, she ran up into her mother's room, and the young man returned to his desk. Mr. Sterling, perused his letters, and handed them to James to indorse and file away; he then gave him some bills to make out, and other. general matters to attend to, some of them not of much consequence, except as they would enable him to judge a little what might be expected of his future effi- ciency. It was nearly two o'clock before Mr. Sterling was able to leave his office and take his seat by her whose comfort was of more value to him than aught else in life. She received him. with her usual pleasant smile, but he soon perceived that she seemed dull and wearied. "You are not so well to-day." "Oh, yes; I felt evidently stronger this morning, and thought surely I should to-day be able to sit at table with you once again; but I find it takes a very little to- overcome me; anything that disturbs my mind takes away ny strength. I have been agitated a little about taking this strange youth into the family; we do not know much about him-we may 2* page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 34: LIKE AND UNLIKE, almost say nothing-and to have one who may be not what we would wish, with us day and night, intimate as he must be with all the members of our family-it may be a source of great trial to us." "C That is true, my dear; and I will not insist on the mat- ter, by any means. I like the boy exceedingly, so far, and feel very much interested in him. I have had a long talk with him, and have got out, by little and little, his history, and to tell the truth, should be glad if matters suited all round to keep him, but by no means'if it will be unpleasant to you." "Well, you know, James, Sister Roff is very anxious that we should take Junius; she appears to be bent upon it, and you know how it will be, if she cannot have her way. I fear it will be the means of exciting hard feelings, and perhaps make some difficulty between the families. I wish, if possi- ble, 'to live peaceably with all men.'" "I know you do, dear Carrie ; there is no doubt of that; and there is no doubt, also, if you are to live peaceably with Sister F---, that you must yield to her fancies in all things; the rule ought to work with her as well as with you." "; Well, you know she is peculiar." "I know that, and have known it much longer than you have; but tell me, Carrie, what good under the moon, does a person's religion do them, if it don't enable them to over- come their peculiarities, as you call them. I have always thought that a change of heart meant a real turn over of the whole concern; a scraping out of all the old cantankerous matter, and a putting in of gentleness, meekness, patience-- above all, charity. Now, Carrie, your religion and that of somebody else's differ in toto. I can see the change in you, but I tell you what"-- Mrs. Sterling put her hand on her husband's arm, which was just then in motion; he used considerable action in speaking, especially when somewhat in earnest; the design on her part was to check what he was saying. "Please don't, James; you hurt my feelings when you talk so." 4 I don't wish to do that, but you must let me talk some- times, Carrie, to your face, and tell you just what I think; it is no more than justice to you that I should do so. You were not always what you now are; when you and I were married, you had not a bad temper, to be sure, but you were peevish at times, you know you were; frietted about very lit- "KE AND UNLIKE. 35 tie matters, were fond of show, were not easy if some source of excitement were not on the carpet; not a little vain of your beauty, too, and spent more money in dress in one year than you now do in two." "You should not have let me." "Did I ever deny you anything?" She took his hand and pressed it to her lips, but could make no reply; the tears that fell upon it were answer enough. "And now how is it? how has it been these six years past? you are always cheerful, even when in'pain; you bear rebuke with meekness; your heart is not now fascinated with the gewgaws of life; you are handsome still, but you only care for appearance as it pleases me; you are contented now with your husband, your child, your home and your Bible. Now, all this you have not been able to hide from me. Your life is a light that is continually before my eyes, and it has made me ashamed of much in myself, and filled me with deep respect for a power that is so manifest. I know as I should never have known in any other way, that there is such a thing as the power of -Divine grace." She was leaning back upon the cushions behind her; her face was covered; the tears fell free and fast-tears not of sorrow, but of humility and gratitude. It was no flattering tongue that was thus speaking her praise; it was no stranger to her private, walk, but the husband with whom she had lived for twenty years; it was unexpected, and beyond her credence had she not known that he never said what he did not think. But, oh, how unworthy did she feel to hear such language and in reference to her! but above all, what heart. felt joy to hear him acknowledge his belief in the unseen power! "Perhaps, dear Carrie, you -have felt that the sentiments I..have at times expressed in reference to a certain class who would wish to draw you into all their ungainly doings and meddlesome activity, have been unkind; I never meant it in reference to yourself." "Never, never; I have always known you did not." "I have never wished you to be drawn away as a tag after Sister F--. I do not fancy, I do not respect her religion, or at least her nlanilestation of it. I' have never seen the change in her which she professes to' have received. Of what -avail are all her busy doings, her prayer meetings, and societies, and what not--do they alter her temper? Do they * page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 36 LIKE AND UNLIKE. subdue her pride? Is she not as fond of finery and show as she ever was? Whose will governs her at holme? Where is any of that holy, blessed light, which shone so clearly around him whose disciple she pretends to be?" "Don't, don't; please, James, don't speak so." "I am not angry at her, Carrie, but now I am on this sub- ject, I must out with my views. I know how you feel; you hope for the best; you wont ever think evil; but I am accustomed to judge by a few plain principles, both as to business and religion. I do not place the most confidence in those merchants who worry round and make a great bluster and a deal of show, and I don't think the best of that religion which manifests itself only in zeal for others. I am not, very likely, in such matters a correct judge, but I would give more for one earnest lprayer in secret, where God only can hear and know what is going on, than for all the prayers of a room full of these fussy Christians But I see it troubles you, so we will drop it; and now about the boy; if his being here will in the least disquiet you, I will say no more about him--he is only on trial-I, will let him go, and get some one who lives in the city." "If you think him such a one as will suit you, might he not board somewhere else-at a boarding-house?" "True, that might be; and yet, knowing what I do of the city, I should fear sending a youngster like him to mingle every evening with, we can't tell what kind of scanips; remember, he is fresh from the country, and I judge of a very respectable family ; as I told you, I have got out from him some items of his history." "Oh, have you got that letter he brought; I have some curiosity to see it." "Yes, here it is; it is a curious document, certainly, and yet, in spite of its quaintness, or perhaps in consequence of it, I attach a good deal of meaning to it; it is an honest opinion, I will venture." When Mrs. Sterling had read the paper through and looked at the signature, she laid it on her lap and fixed her eye earnestly at her husband. "Pleasant Vale! Lemuel Langstaff! Why, James, I feel very sure it must be the same, the Rev. Mr. Langstaff, that I have often heard preach in our pulpit. Pleasant Vale is only eighteen miles from Chestnut Grove; and is James Beau- fort from Pleasant Vale/? Beaufort! Beaufort-it seems to me, now, I remember the namne. But that Beaufort was "KE AND UNLIKE. 37 said to be a very rich man ; I think they called him Captain Beatfort. I wonder if this boy can be a connection?" "His father was formerly captain of la vessel and was once a rich man, but high living, I expect, and a free, open heart ruined him." "James, I should like to see that boy. Matilda has been talking so much about him, and says he looks so different from boys in general, I have a great curiosity to see him; but then, if we do not keep him, it may not be best to do anything to encourage him; the trouble is, that Sister Roff is so set upon having us take Junius, that if you do not, I fear she will feel hurt."' "I know all about her plans, Caroline. Sister F looks fiurther. ahead than her good husband does. Roff, between you and me, is not worth one tenth what people in general think he is. He does a large business, but they spend enor- mously. It would not take, in my opinion, a very bad year of business, nor a great many losses, to bring him flat. Sis- ter F-- thinks that I have got a world of money; that I am rolling it up every year; that we don't spend as fast as we make-I hope we don't. And she thinks it would be a nice thing, as we have no boy of our own, to have Junius come in one of these days for a share -with MAatilda." "Oh, husband, dear! you are too suspicious of your sister." "Not a bit. I know. Shecan't hide from me. She don't often pretend to, for I tell her her own thoughts so straight that she sees it's no use. I can't be' easily blinded. Now, Junius is a clever boy; I have no particular objections to him only on account of relationship. Roff and I have never agreed very well on business matters; he has my name, to be sure, but only for a specific amount, and it must never go beyond that; but our views about matters and things in general differ in toto; he wants to be thought a great man, and I don't esteem him as such; he likes parade and show, and in that respect he and F - are well matched. You see, I don't care to have all my affairs pumped out of a boy or young inan, who, being in my office, must of course know more or less all about things. No, no; to please you I will take Junius, but it don't quite meet my views." "You know, James, all the motive I h'ave in that matter. You had better do as your own judgment dictates." "Well, I will think the matter over; perhaps, for peace sake, I had better take Junius--we will see." page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 38 ZLIKE AND UNLIKE. CHAPTER III. MY DEAR MOTHER: I promised, as you know, to write to you after I reached New Yolk, and let you know what prospects I had of being able to accomplish the business for which I came, and I con- cluded, after I left you, that I would every evening just note down the occurrences of each day, and that would enable you to understand my difficulties and progress, as well as inform you of my prospects; so I send it to you now; it will answer better than if I should attempt to relate it in a letter. -'June 10th.--Here I am, this evening, in a small room in the attic of a farmhouse; everything is clean and neat, how- ever, and I think I am tired enough to sleep comfortably. I have walked fifteen miles to day; it was rather too long a stretch for the first day, but I felt in a hurry and walked too fast; in the middle of the afternoon, I became quite tired, and had to rest very often; my feet, I suppose, swelled, too, for they were quite sore, and my shoes felt very tight; I dared not take them off lest I should not be able to get them on again. Toward sundown, finding I was yet two miles from a tavern, I stopped at a small, plain-looking farm-house, and asked if they could give me supper and lodge me for the night. The young girl who came to the door called her mother, and she, when she came, asked me many questions -s to where I came fi'om, and where I was going, and so on. But when I told her that I felt very tired, and that my feet were quite sore, and that I would willingly pay the same fare that would be charged at the tavern : "Oh, dear!" she replied, " it is not the pay we care for; only we aint in no wise situated to take in travellers; but if you aint too particular, and can do with plain country fare, we will do the best we can, and entirely welcome." And sure enough, they. did their best. The supper of bread and milk, cheese, cold pork, dried apple sauce and pickled cucumbers relished well. I believe I ate some of eve ything onl the table; and after supper the lady gave me a foot-tub of warm water, and I believe would have bathed my feet herself if I would have allowed her. It made me feel "KE AND UNLIKE. 39 almost at home, she and her daughter were so kind. The only man about the house is her son, whom she expects home at nine o'clock; a grown man, she says he is. And now, with a thankful heart for all the mercies of this day, I will get into the clean-looking bed by the side of which I am now writing. I cannot now tell you about my feelings when I lost sight of the dear house where you and sisters are, nor when I felt so wearied this afternoon; some other time I will do that. I shall not forget them, depend upon it. Junze 11th.--This has been a very eventful day, and as I have more time this evening, and do not feel so tired as I was last evening, I will try to give you all the particulars. I slept soundly and was awake by daylight. After washing and dressing and getting ready for a new start, my feet quite rested and all whlole again, I went down stairs and found breakfast nearly ready. It had a delightfuil flavor, and I will try to tell you what was on the table. There was a dish of ham and eggs, potatoes cut in slices, and fried in butter I should think from the taste of them; cakes, something like our dough-nuts, fiied in feat, very crisp, and with molasses on them they were delicious; pickles, too, were on the table; a dried apple pie, a large plate of sweet butter, and a plate of rye bread; a pitcher of milk and a tea-pot of pleasant-flavored tea; but I drank the milk. The young man, her son, was there, a cheerful, lively person, strong to appearance, and. ready for work or fun; quite good looking he was, as well as his sister. We four sat down, and as I expected to pay, I ate heartily, and never did a breakfast relish better. While we were eating, the young man said to me: "You are going south?" "Yes," I said. "I am going down the road about five miles, if you would like to ride I will take you." I had no doubt he expected to make a shilling or so by the operation, and thought at first to decline; but as they had been very attentive to me, I could not very well refuse, so I accepted his invitation, thanking him for the offer. Imme- diately after breakfast, his team was at the door-quite a neat-looking concerns the horse young, a bright bay, and finely formed. I then thallked the lady and her daughter for their kindness and- hospitality, and asked i' how much was the bill?" at the same time taking out my purse. "The bill!"' said the lady. "You don't think we are going to charge you for a night's lodging and a meal's page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 LIKE AND UNLTKE. victuals?"And she and her daughter fairly laughed at the idea. "But, my dear madam, I have put you to a good deal of trouble," I said, " and I have had two meals, and most excel- lent ones. I never relished a meal more in my life, and I certainly expected to pay for it all." "Well, we thought like as not you did, for you don't look nor act as though you wanted to sponge on a body; but we never once thought of taking pay-it's pay enough if you have relished our plain things as you say you have. Oh, no; we live in a plain way, you see, but we aint no wise strait- ened; we raise our own things, and have a plenty, the Lord be praised; and we would be ashamed if we couldn't just take care for a night and give a little refreshment to one that needs it.- You was tired, I could see well enough last night, and sooner than turned you off I'd have given up my own bed; I would, that's certain." I was completely surprised, and hardly knew what to do or say. I had nothing with me that I could leave as a token of my gratitude, and therefore could only express my thanks by words and looks. They seemed perfectly satisfied, however: The old lady wished me all manner of success, for she had got out of me pretty much all my history. The last thing she said was: "Trust in the Lord, and keep his commandments, and you will have a blessing, depend on it. His word is, as sure as the sun." I could almost have given her a parting kiss, she looked so pleasantly at me as she said it. She was a fine-looking woman, and must once have been quite handsome. Her daughter I think the prettiest girl I ever saw-a great pity she could not have an opportunity for a good education. She would make a splendid woman with the advantages some have. When I return home, if I ever get on the way to that dear spot again, I shall certainly call and see these good people. My ride with the young man was very agreeable, and I learned from him a good deal about his affairs. I asked him " if he could make anything-more than a bare living?" Oh, yes, he said; he laid by a little last year-he had laid by one hundred dollars; and he hoped this year to do better, for he had the promise of their district school next winter as a teacher; that it was near enough to his home to enable him to do his own chores, and by boarding at home he could get larger pay. TKEJ AND UNLIKE. 41 As we were riding along, we met a young man quite showy in appearance, driving a fine horse and gig. They bowed to each other; but as soon as we had passed, he said: "That fellow belongs in New York-that is, he is most of his time there, although his mother lives in that fine house you see there on the right." I looked at it; it was a noble-looking place. C But," said he, "I do not fancy him much; he calls at our house rather often, to my notion; he likes to come and have a laugh and talk with Janltte, my little sister. I shall give him a hint one of these days that his company is not wanted. Mother treats him civilly because she likes his mother; but I guess she don't care to have him too intimate- with Janette any more than I do." The five miles were passed over sooner than I could have thought for; he stopped opposite a plain farm-house, and then said; "I wish I could take you further; but I am going to help them here to-day. hoeing corn, and it is time I was in the field." "You will let me remunerate you," I said, " for this ride; it has been a great lift for me." He quite laughed. "Oh, by no means; it has been much pleasanter than if I had been alone, and I thank you besides," said he, " for recommending those two books to me. I can get them at our minister's, and I mean to read them." So all I could do was to thank him most cordially for his kindness. As I was shaking hands with him, he said: "When you get settled in the city, if you think of it, if you will once in a while send me up a New York paper, if you can as well as not, I will be much obliged." "I will most truly," I replied, " and maybe a letter." "Do," said he; "-and mind, if ever you come this way, to give us a call." I took my little valise, strapped it on my shoulders, and walked off, thinking very hard, I can assure you, mother, for I had learned some things which gave a new turn to my mind. You know that I have blad rather a low opinion of a farmer's life; but when I came to see how comfortable people can. be on a very little, and what kind and hospitable feelings they cherish, it seems to me rather a desirable calling; for, after all, what does all this show and style of living amount to? it costs a great deal to keep it up, and no doubt must often be a terrible burden to those who have to provide, and page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 LIKE AND UNLIKE. perhaps keeps them from bleing at heart truly hospitable. I almost envied that young man, to think how cheerful he was! how contented! how satisfied with small gains! and how truly respectable in his appearance and behavior! I don't know-for I have no experience as to the trials or the plea- sures of a city life-but I must say, I was almost tempted to wish I had a few acres of land; but then, I am not accus- tomed to hard work; I know nothing about farming, although brought up in the country; I cannot drive oxen, although I can break colts; but I can write and cypher, and know some- thing about accounts, and so that must be my employment. But one thing I do think, mother: rich people, or those ewho live in fine style, have not so much the advantage of plainer and poorer people--I mean as to real enjoyment--as we are apt to imagine. My mind is turned very much round- things look very different from what they did to me twenty- four hours ago. I walked along quite rapidly, for I felt so fiesh, and my thoughts were so busy, that I did not keep in mind I was on a journey, and had some fifty miles to go over before I would get to its end. The day was warm, and about eleven o'clock I began to come to my senses, and felt that it was time to rest. I perceived, at some distance ahead, a large tree by the road-side, and made fobr it; a shade would be welcome, and the lunch which the good people had forced upon me would come in play, for I was' hungry. Just before I reached the tree, I perceived a man sitting there on a large rock that extended like a ledge along the fence. At first I felt doubtful whether to stop; but as he saw me approaching, he spoke: "Well, shipmate, this is a snug harbor to hatul up in." I perceived by his dress that he was a sailor. His blue round- about and pantaloons seemed new; his shirt and collar wei'e all figured over with blue and white; his hat was new and highly polished, and he had white stockings and puml-ps on his feet; the latter, I thought, poor things to walk in. A small bundle lay by him on the rock, the outer covering of which was a figured bandanna handkerchief of very gay colors. He was a young man, I should think about twenty; he looked pleasantly at me when he spoke; he had a fine countenance, and at once I lost all hesitancy about stopping, And replied to him- "It is a warm' day, sir." "Hot as blazes! We are both on a cruise, I see." "Yes," I said; "I see you have a pack as well as myself." "KE AND UNLIKE, 43 "Not much cargo have I got," said he ; "' I've left my lum- ber at the port I hail from. Where are you bound?" "I am bound for New York," I said. "Well, I'm bound for New London, and from there to old London; come, take a bite," and he handed me a paper which he held in his hand, filled with bread and butter,ham, and hard-boiled eggs. "Lay hold, there's plenty of it." "Thank you, very much," said I, " but I have a store of my own, but I don't know what it is yet;" so I pulled out the parcel from my pocket and untied the string, spreading the paper out on the rock. "Shiver my timbers!" said he, "I guess you've been to a pastry cook's." There was pie, and cake, and cheese, and some pieces of rye bread, nicely buttered, and cut as thin as a wafer, and slices of cold ham lay between them. How I did bless that good woman, and her daughter, too, for no doubt .she had a hand in it. Mother, if any young fellow ever comes along by our house and wants a little comfort, mind and give it to him, and when he goes away give him a lunch along with him- you can't tell how happy you may make him. The memory of that meal under that tree, I think, will stay by me. Of course, you will know I forced some of the pie and cake upon the sailor; he seemed to-relish it much; there was more than I could possibly eat; for his part, he finished all his own before he got through. This eating together made us quite sociable; so I soon learned his story, as well as told my own. I was pleased to find that he used no profane language. I found that he had made two voyages to England and was now bound for the third. He seemed more intelligent than I expected to find one of his class; and from some feelings he manifested, I took him to be one who had been kindly treated at home. When we had finished our meal, I remarked that I wished we had a good spring of water at hand. "Yes," said he, " that would go well; but"-at the same time feeling ill his bundle he pulled out a small flask bottle- "I've got something here that will do to wet our lips; if we only really had some water I could mix a good glass of grog in no time; just put it to your mouth," said he, handinog me the bottle, " and take a swig." I thanked him, but said, "I never drink liquor." "You don't," said he ; " why not?" "Oh," I said, "I have not learned yet, and I do not wish to." page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] ": LIKE AND UNLIKE. '"You drink wine, though, when you have it?" "No," I said, "I never drink anything but water or milk." "Don't you ever mean to?"' "I think I shall not, without I should need it as a medicine." "Now, tell me what's your reason?" "Oh," I said, "I think I shall do better without it. I know a great many people injure themselves by it. Some young men whom I know have ruined their health, and, in fact, destroyed themselves by learning to drink. Perhaps you have known some, too?" He sat a moment with the bottle in his hand, the cork -was out, but he had not as yet tasted it, then he stood up, and tak- ing aim at another rock near us, sent the flask with violence against it. It was shivered to atoms. "Oh,"-I said, " you should not have done so; you may need it as a medicine, yet." "I tell you what, shipmate, what you have said is too true. I don't love the devilish stuff yet, and I know, to my sorrow, that it kills more than it cures. Shiver my timbers, if I ever drink grog again. No, no! I don't want it for medicine, I never was sick in my life, and when I am, it will be time enough to hunt after it. No, no! I've left a good old mo- ther, that I don't want to make sad by any bad doings of mine; it shan't be said that Will Thompson fell from the yard-arm because he had too much grog aboard. So, that chapter's ended. And now let's be scudding, for, if I don't miscalculate, there's foul weather bleeding in the west, there." It was hotter than ever when we left the shade, where we had sat for nearly two hours. I found that he was expecting, in a few miles, to turn off and take an easterly course, and I almost felt sorry, for he was quite a jovial companion, and his breaking the bottle as he did made me feel more confidence in him. We had been on our way about two hours, but had :not progressed many miles, for the hills were steep, and we often sat down to rest. We were now climbing a hill that had thick woods on both sides. No houses were in sight in any direction. When about half-way up, I heard a loud cry. We both stopped. '; What was that, shipmate?"Before I could reply, the cry was repeated-; it seemed to be the cry of females; we could plainly hear them screaming," Oh, help, help!" With one bound Thompson-for I may as well now call him by his name-sprung over the fence and I after him, and we "KE AND UNLIKE. 45 ran with all the speed we could make in the direction from whence the cry of distress came; the screams being con- stantly repeated, but growing louder every instant. We could not make as much haste as we wished, for the ground was ascending; we soon got to the top, however, and push- ing our way through some bushes which obstructed our view, were almost immediately met by a young lady, her hat off, her hair loose, and her face the picture of agony; two men were in full pursuit of her and nearly up to her; and at a lit- tle distance we saw another female, and a man about to grasp her, when she fell, either from being entangled by the under- brush, or from fright. We had no time then to think. As soon as the first lady saw us, she screamed and rushed toward us--"Oh, help, help!" I was almost beside myself, but felt no fear only for the poor girls. The moment the men saw us they paused. They were rough, ugly-looking villains; one of them, the most forward, quite a stout man; he stooped and picked up a club, and as Thompson made at him he received a terrible blow on the head, which I feared had killed him. But no--in the twinkling of an eye he gave the fellow a blow with his fist that sent him reeling backward, and he fell to the ground like a dead man. I thought I must do something the moment I saw the three men, and so I laid hold of a stake that had fallen from the old bush-fence, and when I saw Thompson attack the first nman, I ran up to the other, but he had a stick, too, and I knew I could do nothing at close quarters, so when I got near enough, I sent my club with all my milght at his head; luckily it took him right in the mouth; I saw the blood fly, but the man came at me, swearing most horrid oaths. Thompson, however, was ready for him, and he, too, went staggering backward, and finally tripped up and came to the ground. The third villain, seeing his companions down, ran off with all his might, and the other two, gathering themselves up and seeing their com- panion off, and probably having had enough of Thompson's fist, thought best to make tracks away; but they did not run; probably they would if we had pursued them; we were, however, too much concerned about the young ladies to think much about the men ; we could hear them threatening all kind of mischief if they .caught us again. They were, pro- bably, alarmed lest more help should be at hand, and were but too glad to get off so easy. The young lady near us, the moment she found herself free from the clutches of the two wretches who were after page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] " LIKE AND UNLIKE. her, sunk down upon the ground, and began to cry most piteously. Aend Thompson seemed so worked up by Ilis feelings for her, that he was on the point of starting off in pursuit of the men, and for the first time let off some terri- ble hard words; he was almost beside himself; the distress of the young lady seemed nearly to craze him. I went up to her and tried to soothe her in the best way I could-tell- ing her to fear nothing now--that the men had gone, and that we would not leave her until we had seen them home if she wished it. I asked her "' Had we not better go to the other lady?" "Where is she? Oh, where is my sister?" And she looked out wildly, for I suppose the tears blinded her eyes. "She has fallen down," I said; " had we not better go right to her? She may be hurt." "t Where! where! oh, where is sie?"And she tried to get up, but I saw she was vely weak; so I ventured to take hold of her just as I should of Mary or Julia, if either of them had been in her case. She was shaking violently, poor thing! How I did feel! She very readily let me help her, and I called to Thompson-who was running round not knowing what to do, yet too much excited to stand still-to come and help. He gave a spring, as though he was jump- ing to lay hold of a rope in a gale of wind, and she walked between us, but her limbs were scarcely able to bear her weight. As soon as we reached the prostrate girl, another scene of distress had to be endured, for the one we had assisted thought to be sure that her sister was dead, and I thought so too; but Thompson, without saying a word, ran down the gentle descent on which we were-it was a small gully, and at the bottom the ground was springy, and in some parts of it water was lying-and soon came back with his hat half full of water; it was not very clear water to be sure, for, besides the dirt he had scraped up with it, there was a red mixture which I soon perceived to be blood. I said nothing, but, looking at Thompson, I could see that his face was smeared. He had been badly hurt, I feared, but did not seem to mind it, or think of himself, he was busy holding his hat with the water in it, and we were busy bathing the face and arms of the young lady. She had fainted, and the water caused her to catch her breath, and very soon she grew better, and was able to sit up and to cry, which we were all very glad to witness. As soon as possible ..... . . . . "KE AND UNLIKE. 47 ;! I suggested that we should be moving, for I feared the men would be back again, if for nothing else to be revenged for the injuries they had received-but the one who had fainted was not able to stand. "Had we not better carry her?"I said; " those men may return." "Oh, yes; do let us try to carry her," said the elder sister; "do let us get away." "Where is your home?"I said, for no house was to be seen. "It is east from here; just through the wood and across the field," said the young lady. I at once took hold of the sweet girl, for she was very pretty, about 12 or 13 years of age, I should think, and I looked at Thompson to help me. "Vast heaving, friend," said he, " let me take the precious bundle--if that's the orders-while you run and get my traps." And he took her up as if she were a baby. I offered my arm to the other lady, leading the way through the woods and across a large field, the ground still ascending; and w hen the top was reached a fine house was full in view. Entering a wide avenue, we were not long in reaching the house. You must imagine the scene when we got there-I cannot describe it-such a screaming, and questioning, and crying, and running about-the father and mother, sisters, and other women were making a terrible hubbub. Thompson and I remained on the piazza awhile, and then he went to a pump in the yard and washed his face, for it was smeared with blood and dust. I examined his wound, and found quite a gash, and was about going into the house to get a rag to bind it up, but he called out- "Where away, my hearty?" "C Goingo for a rag." " Vast there-don't want their rags;" and he pulled out a figured handkerchief, wet part of it in the water, and bound it round his head. "Now, shipmate, you and I have done our duty, we'll claw off and be steering for a harbor somewhere. We are going to have a muss; those clouds look squally." I looked wLere he pointed, and saw that we were like to have rain, and felt that we had indeed better be on our way. So, taking up our things, we started off into the avenue, not doubting from its direction that it would lead to the high- page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] TTKER AND UNLIKE. way we had left. We walked along for sometime without saying anything to each other. At last he broke silence. "I don't mind a matter of a squall, nor a drenching of rain when rigged for it, but when a man has got his best on, it ain't quite so clever. But, howsoever, we have done our duty, so let it come." "I think," said I, " it would only have been civil if some of them had thanked us for our trouble, and invited us to stop until the shower was over." "They are fresh water folks," said he, " they don't know any better. Now, at sea, shipmate, if we had hove up to a vessel in distress, and in helping them we had damaged our- selves, they'd have turned to and seen that all was right be- fore we parted company. But land lubbers don't know much -you'll pardon me, though." "CNo offence, I assure you," said I. "I have been think- ing we deserved a little different treatment." By this time we had reached the highway, but scarcely had we entered it when we heard a wagon behind us-it soon overtook us and stopped-a fine looking young man jumped out. "Are you not the persons," said he, " who assisted the two young ladies?" "We are," I replied. He at once grasped my hand, and then took that of Thompson. "They are my sisters," said he. "You have done us a great favor. My father and mother feel quite distressed to think that in their anxiety, and the confusion of the moment, they neglected to express their gratitude. I was not at home myself. Now, come, go back with me-it will be a cause of deep mortification and regret to us all if you do not. It is about to rain, too, and you cannot possibly reach a shel- ter before the storm comes. Do go with me." Thompson looked at me, and I looked at him, and then he looked at his new trowsers and white stockings-not very white just then. "Well, friend," he said to the young man, " this chap and I have fallen into company, and we have had a pleasant little cruise together so far, barring trifles, and I don't care to shove off and leave his company; so I'll do just as he says." Thus appealed to, and knowing he felt a little anxious about his new suit, and very ready myself to get soon to a shelter, I assented; and in a moment more we were going at I T TRPW AND UNLIKE. a rapid rate back through the lane we had travelled with somewhat ruffled feelings. Nothing could have been more kind than our reception. Poor Thompson, in spite of all his opposition, had to suffer his wound to be washed with castile soap, and then liniment put upon it, and all done by the mother of the family herself. All vied with one another in paying us attentions. The old gentleman, a very dignified person, but apparently in feeble health, after thanking us again and again-at last requested that we would not think of leaving his house that night. "Stay here to-night, and to-morrow morning my son will carry you in his wagon at least ten miles on- your way-you must not let us feel that you have been hindered in your pro- gress by your noble efforts to rescue my daughters. You will stay-now, will you not?" For my own part, I was quite willing, for I was about used up; what with the heat of the day and the excitement I had been under, I felt jaded out. And as Thompson left the matter to me, I concluded to remain. June 13th.-One day's tramp more, and I shall be in New York. I stayed until after dinner of the second day at the house of Judge Jones--the name and office ofthe gentleman- and I have a great many things to tell you when we meet, that he said to me. Thompson rode with us as far as the road on. which he turned to go east; he is a good fellow. Judge Jones tried to make him a present of some money, but he saw that Thompson felt hurt by the offer, and he apologized to him, and spoke his thanks in such a handsome manner, that the young sailor had to wipe a tear away when they parted. The young lady, however, whom he carried in his arms, pre- sented him with a very handsome brooch; he could not refuse it; he pinned it to his silk neck-tie, and said: "He'd part with his life before he'd part with that." He seemed really sorry when he and I had to separate, and I wish I could tell you all he said to me-this will be enough, though. "I am going to set out," he said, " on a new cruise for life; I have broke the rum-bottle; and now I am going to knock off swearing. (He did swear tremendously when those men attacked us, and it is likely he was in the habit of it when among swearing folks.) I thank you for some few things you have said to me. I see there is a better way than the one I have been on-good bye, and God bless you." 8 page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 LIKE AND UNLIKE. I really felt like weeping; he is a noble fellow at heart, and I hope we shall come across each other again one of these days. Young Jones carried me ah of fifteen miles on my way; he said he wished to go to New Rochelle. So here I am, eighteen or twenty miles from the city. A stage starts at nine o'clock in the morning, and I have engaged a passage in it. I thought it would be better for me to enter the city in a decent shape, than covered with dirt and tired, and should only be able to get there in the evening-when a stranger, in a strange place, might be troubled to find a lodging. So I have cleaned up, and shall put on my better dress. I suppose, as you have told me, appearance especially in the city, and to one a stranger, is of great consequence. I am- rather fidgety to-night. 2Yew York, 14th June.-You see by the date that I am here at last. I am at the stage-house in Cortland street--a very plain house, but comfortable. I arrived about noon. I have walked about some this afternoon to get a little the run of the streets-but how lonesome one feels here! how dif- ferent from the country-everybody seems to have too much to attend to of their own to take any notice of you. loth June.--I have been round to-day making applications to the different firms who have advertised for clerks, but have not succeeded. I fear my letter of recommendation is not the right kind-some I noticed smiled when they were reading it; and although all treated me civilly, yet none of them felt ready to give me a place even on trial. I feel not only tired this evening, but somewhat discouraged; I almost feel like giving up the idea of being a merchant, and shipping on board some vessel and trying the sea. 16th.-This has been a peculiar day. I went from place to place until at one store I thought I was treated rudely. I did not resent it, for I felt almost heart-broken; my recom- mendation was fairly ridiculed. So I came home, or rather came back, to the stage-office where I am staying, about resolved to try no more, but go off at once to sea. My father, I thought, succeeded there, and so might I. When about the middle of the. afternoon, a gentleman came up to me while I was sitting and thinking very hard, and spoke to me, and asked if I had yet got a place; he had seen me at the last store I was in, and he had read my letter. I liked his appearance and his address. And to conclude, he wishes me to come to his office in the morning, and he will give me a fair trial. I feel like a different person this evening. "KE AND UNLIKE. 51 17th JTune.-I cannot tell you, mother, how anxious I am to obtain this situation. The gentleman, Mr. Sterling, is so much of a gentleman-he is kind and reasonable, and ready to appreciate my efforts to please. The family is small-Mr. Sterling and his wife, and their daughter, a girl of fourteen or fifteen, with two or three servants. The daughter has a party this evening, and I hear them overhead enjoying themselves. She very kindly invited me to attend, but really, mother, I had no heart to do so; it is yet uncertain whether I retain this place. It is now ten o'clock, dear mother, and I go to bed with a heavy heart. Hwill tell you why. As I was writing the above lines, Mr. Sterling entered the office, and I thought he looked sad. I could not think what was the matter, but I feared some bad news. "James," said he, "I always think it best not to delay if I have any unpleasant news to communicate, but tell it right off. I acknowledge that the little I have seen of you, satisfies me; but a young man, a nephew of my own, has been expecting to have this place, and I find it will make hard feelings if I do not take him; my wife is not well, and rather dreads taking a stranger into the family; but you can remain here awhile in the family just as you are, and I will do my best to get a place for you." And went on to say what he could to encourage me; but I was too much under the power of my feelings to heed what he said. I inwardly resolved, however, not to-remain in the way; thus all my prospects have gone to the winds. June 18th.-This morning, mother, Hwas invited into the room of Mrs. Sterling. She is a lovely woman, and very handsome, although she is pale and thin. She had a long conversation with me, and it seems she knows Mr. Lang- staff, and knows our family by repute. She spoke kindly and frankly to me, and seemed, as we talked together, to be more and more free. While I was talking with her, a lady came in, whom I understand is a sister of Mr. Sterling. She seemed quite surprised at seeing me there, and could hardly be induced to come in. I immediately retired and went to the office below stairs. Mr. Sterling then went up, and what took place I know not, but in about an hour he came in again. "James," said he, '" should I be willing to engage you, are you yourself satisfied to remain if we can agree upon the terms?" page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 LTITKE AND UNLIKE. I told him that I had been treated so kindly, I could imagine nothing, on my part, that would not be agreeable; but I begged him for no consideration of kindness to me, to do anything that would disappoint or displease anyone else. "That is all settled," he said-; " there will be no hard feel- ings toward you on the part of the young man. Other matters Mrs. Sterling and I will attend to. Now tell me what salary you expect." ' ' I can fix no terms, sir," I said. "' I shall do my best to serve you; if my services will be worth my board at present, it is all I can ask for." "Well, then, we can soon fix it. You will board in my family; you will occupy the room you have slept in hitherto; you will consider yourself a member of the family, and act as freely and feel as free as in your own home. I wish you to feel under no restraint. When you do wrong, if you do any- thing out of the way, Mrs. Sterling or myself will tell you of it at once, so that you may always feel at ease until you are reproved; besides your board, I shall allow you two hundred dollars for this year, and shall increase it so as to be satis- factory to you-of course anticipating that as you grow older, you will be more efficient; do these terms suit you?" Dear mother, I could not reply-my heart was too full of joy. My nerves had been so wrought up by the scenes of some days past, that I had no control over them. Mr. Ster- ling understood me. "James," said he, "I comprehend the state of your mind; but keep a good heart now; you will find that you have got among friends, if you prove worthy, as I think you are." And now,-mother, you cannot tell how happy I am. I am sitting -in my bed-room, a fine, large, airy room, neat as possible, in the third story, and looking out upon the street. I feel, ah, how strong and resolute! I don't think I ever can get tired; and you may rely upon it, nothing shall be left undone by me to merit the favor of these kind people. I never was so happy as I now am. What shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits toward me? Your affectionate son, JAMES BEAUFORT. -LTKE AND UNLIKE. 53 CHAPTER IV. "WELL, Aunt Grizzle, I believe I never shall get off!" "Matilda, Matilda, dear, what are you doing?" The young lady was busy just then pulling out things from a large drawer she had opened, and some of them going on the floor and some on the top of the bureau. "Why I am looking for my blue sash; you know I have got blue ribbons on my hat, and I must have my blue sash to match it, must I not, aunty?" "Yes; but you know I never keep your sashes there. I always put them in your collar drawer; do wait, child, until I get this tape run through. I will find it for you." "Well, aunty, I will wait; but I am pretty sure I threw my sash in here the other day, I was in such a hurry, but I cannot find it, so I will throw the things back again." "Wait, darling, do wait a minute, I will put your clothes in again. What will you -do, Matilda, when you get to boarding-school? If you manage so, you will be getting into trouble with the mistress, and have a hard time, I'm afraid; do, dear, try to learn to keep your things a little in order. "Well, aunty, I will try; but must I see to my clothes, do you think, when I am at boarding-school?" "That you must. And your aunt says the lady is very strict." A"Strict, is she? Well I don't know what I shall do, then; you know I never have had any strict people round me. Will she scold, do you suppose? or what will she do? I hope she won't be like Aunt Roff. What makes Aunt Roff so cross and ugly?" "' Matilda, Matilda, you must not speak so, you must 'not. She is your own aunt, your father's own sister." ^"I know that, Aunt Grizzle; but my father never acts as she does; he never goes to her house and finds fault with her management. He never scolds, and worries, and frets, and goes on so like everything, because she does not do just as he says." "That is very true, my dear; your father is a kind hearted, reasonable man; he would never make anyone feel unhappy page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 LIKE AND UNLIKE. if he could help it. He ain't a Christian, I know-I wish he was. I have good hope he will be yet." "Why is not my pa a Christian, Aunt Grizzle? Is he not the best man that ever was?"' "Oh yes, dear, I know, and we all know, that he is a good, kind-hearted man; he wishes well to everybody, and he is an example to many who profess a great deal; but you know he don't go to the table, and he don't profess to have a new heart." "What kind of a heart has Aunt Roff got, do you think, aunty? She goes to the table." ," I ain't her judge, my dear." "Yes, but, Aunty, if people who go to the table have got new hearts, ought not they to be better than other people? How does Aunt Roff prove that she has a new heart? when did she get it?" "I can't say, my dear. She is a peculiar kind of a person." "What does it mean, aunty, by having a new heart? I hear a great deal said about it. Aunt Roff asked me one day if I had a new heart." "And what did you tell her?" "I said I did not know, and then she asked me if I did not want a new heart, and said that I was by nature dead in sin, and that I must be born again." "That is very true, my dear; we are all dead in sin, and we must be born again, that's sure, or we cannot see the kingdom of God; but my notion is, that that work is done by the spirit of God sometimes when we don't know just what is going on, sometimes when we are very young, the change is made, and that the safest and the surest way to tell about it, is by the life we live. I know some lay great stress upon their feelings; 'they must have great distress of mind, ' and then they must have great comfort, and all that. Some, no doubt, have such experience; but the surest way, to my, mind, is to- ask ourselves if we love to keep the command- ments of God." "You mean the ten commandments, aunty?" "Yes, I mean them and I mean all the commands that are given. - We are to love our neighbor as ourselves; we are to be meek and humble; we are to love the Saviour, and try to be like him; we are to deny ourselves when it is necessary; when we are reviled we must not revile again; we must not be selfish, nor seek merely our own advantage; we-must love "KE AND UNLIKE. 55 all persons, and try to do them good, no matter what they do to us." "I don't see many people do so, without it is my mother. She never gets angry, nor complains, nor worries, and I never heard her speak evil of anyone-and she is so patient; the other day, when Aunt Roff spoke so hard and unreasonable to her, she never answered her a word. Now how can it be, aunty, that there is such a difference in people. Aunt Rofd, you say, has a new heart, and mamma has a new heart- would they not be more alike if they had the same kind of heart? What good does a new heart do, if it don't make people better? Aunt Roff is not meekc, you know that, aunty, and she is very selfish; did she not wish my papa to turn James away, although he is poor and needs the place very much, because she wanted him to take Junius? I can- not understand it all, aunty." Aunt Grizzle was silent for some time; she saw clearly that there was a puzzle in the mind of the dear young girl not very easy for her to unravel. She had the same difficulty at times with her own thoughts in trying to reconcile the conduct of those who professed to have experienced a change of heart, with what she knew the Scriptures clearly proved to be the fruit of that change, and the only way in general that she could get along with the matter, was, to let it drop, and go to examining her own heart and life. At present, however, she was in a dilemma; it would not answer to let this young and inquiring mind be left with the impression that the new birth was not a reality, and that a person might profess one thing and act another, and yet in some way all was right. "I will tell you, dear, what I think; the best and the only way for us is not to look at what other people do; we shall not have to answer for them-we must take care for- our- selves. The Scripture is plain.' When we are born again, the work is done by the Holy Spirit of God. And to know ' that it has been done, the fruit will show; the tree is known by its fruit. Now the fruit of the Spirit is ' love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness and ten- perance '-that is- all I have to say." "Where in the Bible is that, aunty?" ' Oh its in many places-but I guess you'll find the very words in Galatiens, the last chapter." "I mean to learn that, aunty. I should think people who go to the table would get those things by heart, and- keep page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 56 . LIKE AND UNLIKE. thinking them over, to see about what they are doing. But what is to be done, aunty, about my sash?" "Oh, dear, I have forgot all about it; you have kept me thinking about something else." And Aunt Grizzle, with a- sprightly step, soon found the stray article, and fixed it on her darling, admiring as she did so the graceful figure and the bright and happy face of her pet. "And where are you going now, dear?" "Well, aunt, I am going first, you see, to call at Aunt Roff's for Mary. Mamma wishes me to call there, that aunt may feel assured that mamma has not laid up her hard speeches against her, and she wishes me to be very pleasant toward aunt, for she says Aunt Roff is no doubt sorry she spoke as she did; and I mean to, Aunt Grizzle, for as you say, we have not got to answer for her." 4"That is right, dear child; your mother is a dear good ,woman, and she will have her reward. She has it all the time, though; for her mind is all the time in peace." "And do you want to- know where I am going next, Aunt Grizzle?" "Oh, well, dear, I suppose you are going to call on friends; it don't much matter, I know you will behave yourself wher- ever you go." "t To be sure I shall, Aunt Grizzle; but you know I can- not be so proper as some can. I like fun, you know, aunty, sometimes." "Not in the street, though, my dear." "Well, I should like to, sometimes--I should like to laugh out heartily at some of the folks I meet, so starched and prim-so stuck up and stiff-so uneasy and unnatural as they appear! But I won't, aunty, so don't look frightened--you know I am going with Mary, and she is so very proper-so very, very proper. I will walk just as demurely as you and I do, when we go to church. But I will tell you where I am going. You see, mamma says old Dinah has not been here for these two weeks, and mamma is afraid she is sick; and see here, aunty," and the laughing girl took out her purse-" see here-here's the goodies that will make Aunt Dinah laugh, I know. Mamma has sent this for her." "Ah, that is good. Poor Dinah! IFve been thinking about her. She works hard when she can, but she is not able to do much now." "But mamma says she shall not want for any comfort while she lives, and I guess there would not any of us see "KE AND UNLIKE. 57 her want. So good-bye, Aunt Grizzle. I am sorry I turned that drawer up so; if you will let me now, I will put -it straight again."- "Oh, no, no, no, darling; you go on your way. I had rather see to the drawer myself." It is but a short walk to Mrs. Roff's-just up Wall street, into Broadway, and a few doors below Grace Church. A colored serving man answered the ring of the bell, he was dressed quite stylishy, and made a low obeisance as the young lady entered. "Is Aunt Roff at home, Peter?" "She is, Miss Matilda. Will you wait in the parlor, or go up into her room? They are all there." "Oh, I will go upstairs then." The room which was designated as Mrs. Roff's, was in the second story-a large, airy apartment, with three windows looking on Broadway. Red and white drapery adorned the windows and the large high post bedstead; two large look- ing-glasses filled the spaces between the windows. The chairs were of the fancy sort-green, white, and gold; the carpet a bright red, spotted with yellow, and all the other furniture in the room rather flashy than substantial. Mrs. Roff was seated in a rocking-chair. She had on quite a gaudy dressing gown, and a faded crimson turban. The robe, although of many colors, had also a faded look, but as it was merely her morning dress, and no one would be likely to see her in it but her husband and children, of course it was well enough-so, no doubt, she thought. Just now, however, a lady much younger than Mrs. Roff and quite well dressed, was seated by her'; she must have been a very intimate friend, or no doubt she would not have been ad- mitted into the sanctum of that lady, and she in dishabille. The moment Matilda entered, her aunt smiled very gra- ciously. "Why, Matilda, my dear, good morning. How glad I am to see you. How is dear mamma this morning?" - ^Quite comfortable, I thank you, aunt; and she sends her love to you." 4"Oh, thank her. I am so glad that she is better. My poor dear sister," turning to the lady beside her, "has, you know, had a long illness, but she has borne it like a true Christian -times of sickness and of sorrow are the times to bring out the Christian graces-the times when they are with the Sa- viour on the Mount, and, like him, are transfigured." 3* page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 TTKE AND UNLIKE. Matilda could not help thinking what kind of a transfig- uration her aunt meant, for she had heard her cousins say that whenever their mother was a little unwell, the- whole house was set in motion, and she was so cross and whimsical there was no comfort in doing anything for her. "That is true," the lady replied, heaving a deep sigh, and clasping her hands together, " that is true. Our religion was designed for the trying hours of life- ' Pain and sickness, grief and woe, Make the Christian graces flow.' " "Beautiful idea! beautiful idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Roff, drawing the folds of her dressing gown together, and clasp- ing her hands in like manner as her companion. "What rich thoughts are forced out of us at such times. Truly, as you say "'Tis only in affliction's night The Christian's lamp burns clear and bright, 'Tis only when the rod we bear, We learn the use of faith and prayer.' "What a precious season we had at our last meeting-such prayers I Such upheavings of the soul I never heard," ' "It was, indeed; and I thought how sad it was that/so few can be persuaded to join us.' It was good to be there, indeed it was; but, poor me, I had a hard time when I got home. Mr. Russell, you know, is yet in the gall of bitter- ness; and because the servants did not get the dinner in season, oh, how he went on! But you know ' they who live godly in Christ Jesus must suffer persecution ;' it has been foretold us-we must take up the cross-but it is very hard to bear sometimes; human nature rebels, it did yester- day-and I told Russell straight out, that he might say what he pleased, he should not stop me from enjoying my preci- ous meetings." Mrs. Russell, however, forgot to tell her confidential friend that she had given the servants no directions about dinner, and that she did all in her power to throw the blame from her own shoulders on those of her cook. Poor dear Chris- tian woman! she forgot in her ecstasy of feeling some of those precepts which have particular reference to married women and mistresses. What a pity the fervent petitions she had sent up had not been followed by some little atten- tion to her relative duties. - "KE AND .UNLIKE. 59 "Yes," said Mrs. Roff, " that is what we have to submit to, if we can. But, as you say, such crosses are hard to bear; but firmness is requisite. Where are you going, Mary?" addressing her daughter. "Oh, I am only going to take a little run with Ma- tilda." "Well, put on your new hat and stop at the milliner's, and tell Mrs. Fanshaw to look at it. I ordered her- to make it after the pattern she showed me, the new hat from Paris; and ask her to be sure send my French cap round to-morrow, that I am engaged to a party in the evening, and must have it. You hear now?" "Yes, I hear." "Tell your dear mother, Matilda, that I will call in a day or two, Give my best love to her." "Thank you, aunt, I will certainly." "You are going to the Bigelow's, then, to-morrow even- ing," said Mrs. Russell, as soon as the girls had left the room. "Oh, yes. I suppose it will not do to refuse. I suppose it is not best for Christians ta abstain altogether. We must needs, then, go out of the world." "C That's just as I think. Some people have an idea that religion consists in being very demure and staying at home, but I feel that the better way is to mingle with the world. How are we to be lights in the world, if we -shut ourselves up?" "We cannot be, as you say--those of us who occupy a certain station in society, cannot avoid mingling in those social scenes. It is the only way we can prevent worldly minded people from sneering at religion. We are social be- ings, and it is very hard drawing a line across which we must not pass." "You spoke of a French cap-anything new?" "Just come over-a beautiful thing. Rather costly, but very becoming. What do you intend to wear?" "Oh, well, I have not looked over my things yet; I sup. pose there will be a good deal of dressing?" "No doubt. The Bigelows, you know, move in quite a gay circle; they make a great dash. As to dress, I have not decided yet what to wear. Well, we must not set our hearts on these things, they will all perish with the using. I sup- pose, as long as our hearts are right, there can be no danger from mingling in worldly pleasures that are in themselves in. page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 LIKE AND UNLIKE. nocent. You ]mow the apostle says: 'We are not to be abridged of our liberty; we are not to be judged by other people's consciences.'" "That is just what I say to Russell when he twits me of loving fine dresses and all that. I tell him it is nobody's business, that ' my liberty is not to be judged by another's conscience.' But that makes me think of another thing-you know we have got to raise one hundred dollars to pay the board of our proteg6, young Blauvelt, and you and I have agreed to raise forty between us." {"Yes, I know we have; and I don't know how I am to get my part of it. I shall go among the merchants, and get it out of them." "Well, you see, I asked Russell the other day to head my list, -and absolutely he swore at me, and said before he would give one cent to that young beggar, he would see him rolling a wheelbarrow as a porter. And then he said, if I could afford out of my allowance to spend two hundred dollars at my milliner's, I must get the money for that young scape- grace out of it too." "Yes, that is the way with the men; but you must learn to manage them. That is the only way I can get anything out of Roff." ' How do you manage?" "Well, sometimes one way, sometimes another. Before I got my pier-glass for the parlor, I pouted for two whole days, and never went to the table to a single meal. And when at last Roff asked me"' what ailed me?' I said nothing ailed me, only I was miserable, and didn't care what became of me; that I was very sorry I had said anything about the glass, since itl made him so angry at me and caused him to speak so hard to me. It was not, I said, that I cared for the glass on my own account; all I wished was to have things decent-; that to be sure everybody was talking about his making so much money. But, I said, it is -of no consequence; I shall try to do my duty, and let people talk about our old-fashioned furniture as much as they please; my heart is not set on such things. And then Hbut no matter-that very evening the glass came." "Oh, but Russell could not be moved in that way. I might pout forever, it would only make him swear. Roff, you know, is different; he goes to the table with you." "Yes, that is true; but for all that, he has to be managed. Men are dreadfully absorbed in their money-making-the s', "KE AND UNLIKE. 61 more they make, the tighter they get. But this is our cross. Are you going?" "Yes, I must; I have some shopping to do. I have had a delightful call; it is so good to have a little Christian com- munion; you know I have none at home." "Does not your aunt love to talk on the subject?" , "( Oh, well, Aunt Jane does not give me much comfort. When I say anything about Russell, she says I must be patient and bear with him, and do nothing to irritate him, and that I ought to let him see that I have a meek and quiet spirit, and all that, so that I get very little comfort from her; and the worst of all is, she has got completely round John, and he often tells me if I would copy a little from my aunt, it would be better for him and for me. So, you see, I am between two fires." "That is your cross, Julia; bear it as well as you can." The door was now opened, and a servant maid entered. " I don't know, Mrs. Roff, but I have done wrong to say you were at home; but the Rev. Mr. Goodman has called, and before I thought Hsaid you was in." "And is he below, Janette?" "He is, madam." "Oh, well, you did right, as it was Mr. Goodman; but you must help me put on my things, Janette. Just get my pur- ple crape and the pink turban. Julia, you will not go now, of course?" "Do you think I had better stay?" "Oh, by all means; you will want to see the dear creature." And while the purple crape and pink turban are being adjusted, we will slip down and visit the reverend gentleman. Mr. Goodman was as yet a young man, probably not quite thirty; an earnest preacher of the truth, with fine talents, and good personal appearance; rather slender for one who. has much work to do ; in height, a little above the medium; his complexion somewhat sallow, and not indicative of health; his features finely molded. He wore glasses; they were necessary, as he was'near-sighted; but the eye which looked through them was so bright, that no one would have sus- pected a deficiency. He was settled over a wealthy congre- gation, and one somewhat difficult to please. Some were of* foreign origin, and very strenuous on points of doctrine, and jealousoof any departure from old customs; some were pro- fessional men of high standing, who could not le put off with page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 T TRF ,AND UNLIKE. a. mere pleasant delivery and a few flowers of rhetoric, and although the larger number consisted of merchants, who in general are satisfied with superficial accomplishments, yet the few superior minds to whom-he was called to administer, demanded all the efforts, he could put forth, and no doubt the burden which rested upon him was too weighty for one of his years. He cannot visit among his people sufficiently to become personally acquainted with their peculiarities, and of course can only judge of that character by what he perceives of them in public. Wbhile Mrs. Roff was making preparations for an interview with him, he was sitting on her velvet-cushioned sofa and looking round the apartment and through the open folding- doors into the adjoining room. He was somewhat surprised at the evident attempt at display. Rich furniture in the house of one who was esteemed a prosperous merchant, of course he would expect to see; but Jiere everything was rather gaudy than rich or substantial. However, "it was not lis business to regulate about such matters," and although some doubts passed through his mind on the subject of con- sistency, he at once dismissed them, on the ground that, after all, it was a matter of taste and not properly a test of cha- racter; and as Mrs. Roff in particular has a distinguished name as an active Christian, such a trifling circumstance as any peculiarity in the furnishing of her house was not worth noticing. And yet, as his eye passed from object to object, in spite of his reasoning, there will come, up -the idea of incon- sistency. "My dear sir, how rejoiced I am to see you." Mr. Goodman rose, evidently confused; he had been so absorbed in thinking as not to notice the entrance of the ladies, "Mrs. Roff, I hope I see you well, madam; and Mrs. Rus- sell-I had designed to call at your house." i. "But I must not lose that favor because accidentally here." ' Indeed, madam, if you carl spare a few moments at the present time, and save me an additional call this morning, it will be quite a favor. I am out on a special errand." "I was in hopes," said Mrs. Roff, 'you had come ex- pressly to visit me, and that you had at last thought of one of the most unworthy of your flock, and had come purposely to see her." T TKF, AND UNLIKE. 63 Mr. Goodman did not take the bait thrown out-he-was no flatterer. "I have come purposely to see you, madam. I believe you are a teacher in the Sabbath-school connected with our church, and you, too, I believe, Mrs. Russell?" "I am a teacher," the latter replied; "Mrs. Roff is our Superintendent." "So I have understood; I will, therefore, open the subject to you both, at once. A new feature has been developed in Sabbath-schools since their introduction to our country towns. They have been found, there, to operate as nurseries to the church. Being attended by all the children of the congrega- tion, they have turned out to be a means of giving to the young a knowledge of the Scriptures, and affording an oppor- tunity for direct application of those truths to their minds which has been long wanting. In many of our country churches, it'has been ascertained that almost all admissions to the church are through the Sabbath-school; and so numerous are the instances of revivals of religion commencing in these schools, that many of tus in the city feel that we ought to avail ourselves of the advantages of such an institution." "But I do not, perhaps, understand you, Mr. Goodman. Have we not already Sabbath-schools in all our churches?" "True, Mrs. Roff, we have Sabbath-schools attached to our several churches-that is, many of our members teach a sqhool on the Sabbath, said to belong to our church-but the scholars, as you well know, are not drawn from the church or congregation; they are the children of parents who seldom worship anywhere; none of the regular worshippers with us, send their children." "Of course not, my dear sir, of course not." "And why not, Mrs. Roff? Why should the children of the congregation be debarred the advantages of such. instruc- tion? No doubt your children are regularly taught the Scriptures by their father or mother." - Mrs. Roff had to fan herself; she must have been quite warm, for her face was highly flushed. "Your children may not suffer for the want of such a means of grace; but do you really imagine that parents in general are faithful in this matter?" Mrs. Roff was evidently much disturbed, as well as her/ friend, Mrs. Russell; both, no doubt, could have answered for themselves, but the answer, we fear, would only have confirmed the reverend gentleman in the doubts he had just expressed. . page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] " .TRTF AND UNLIKE. "But, Mr. Goodman, I am afraid you do not consider. How can the thing be done? You know, doubtless you know this method of instruction was designed for the poor-the outcast." ' I know that, madam; but it is also calculated to embrace in its sphere of usefulness a far wider circle than was at first thought of, and if so, why should not its benefits be enjoyed?" "Surely-surely--but I cannot well see how it can be done. Now, for instance, my servant, the young girl who admitted you, attends Sabbath-school. Now, how can my children be associated with one whom they are in the habit of seeing at home in a menial situation? Will it not be a con- founding of all rank in society? It is very difficult now to keep servants in their proper place." "But, no doubt, my dear madam, you believe that your children and your servants must pass through the same great change, must come to the same state of mind substantially, must drink from the same fountain of instruction; and no doubt they do now, for you doubtless give the same instruc- tion as to the things of religion to your maid as you do to your little daughter, and they both kneel at the same family altar. But do you find, in consequence of such a mingling in your own home, any hindrance to correct family government?" Mrs. Roff had begun to feel the heat to be quite oppres- sive; the fan could not sufficiently modify it, and. the per- fumed handkerchief had to be brought forth. The perspira- tion was standing on her forehead. /Her maid religiously instructed! Her servants at the family altar! Her children drinking the holy precepts from their mother's lips! Alas! poor Christian woman! how did the supposition of her pastor tear up her conscience! And yet, self-condemned as she felt, the idea of her children asso- ciating with the baser sort, even in the road to Heaven, was too painful to her refined sensibilities. "The plan is worth trying, my dear madam; and I think we shall have no difficulty in accomplishing the matter, if a few of our influential members, set the example by sending their children and coming themselves to assist in teaching." "But, do you think, Mr. Goodman, you can get such to come forward and engage in it in this way?" (' I really do, madam; I feel, for instance, very confident that both yourself and Mrs. Russell will unite in it. You are both known to be forward in every good work, and you are both known to be in prosperous circumstances. Wealth has "KE AND UNLIKE. 65 its influence even in the church, and those who wield the power, must see to it that it be used for the advancement of Christ's kingdom; and I f el confident that is the way you wish to use it." 1"Oh, you know, my dear sir, how glad we all are to do anything you wish done, or that you think best to be done," and Mrs. Roff looked at Mrs. Russell, when that lady immediately chimed in- "I am sure we do." Mr. Goodman had arisen to depart, and giving each lady a hand: "I thank you for your readiness to fall in with this propo- sition, and I hope from higher motives than a regard to my wishes, although I thank you for that. I shall call a meeting soon, at which this subject can be canvassed in all its bear- ings, and shall anticipate your aid in setting things right and using your influence to accomplish what I believe we shall find to be a most desirable end Good morning, ladies.1' Mrs. Russell was about to take leave, also, but Mrs. Roff held her by the arm. "Julia, you must not go yet-do, come, sit down--I am all in a flutter." Mrs. Russell was just then surveying herself in the large pier-glass, and Mrs. Roff, with her arm upon her friend's shoulder, was taking a side peep at the purple crape and the pink turban. "What a lovely glass this is! I don't wonder you pouted for it; I would pout for a week, if I could by such means get one out of Russell-how perfect it is! Was my hair hanging down in this way when that dear soul was here? What an interesting creature he is!" "What did I say to him, Julia, when he took my hand to bid good-bye? For the life of me I cannot remember." "I am sure I don't know; all I heard was, that you would be happy to do -anything he said." "Are you sure?" "Sure I am you said as much as-that. At any rate, you see, he counts upon us to give our influence for the thing." "Oh, well, I hardly know what I did say. - But one thing is certain, it will introduce radicalism to the church; we shall all be mixed up together. But did I truly say, Julia, that I approved of the measure and would lend my influence to sustain it?" "Certainly you did say something of the kind. But, my page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] o66 T TARR AND UNLIKE. dear, good friend, I must not stay any longer; I have left no directions about dinner; it will be late, I know it will, and then Russell will go on like anything." "Well, if you must go, you must. But this matter about the Sabbath-school looks dark to me; I don't see how it is going to work. , You will surely be at the Bigelow's?" "By all means; I would not miss it for anything." "Let me see! to-morrow we have our-prayer-meeting, do, we not?" "Oh, yes, sure enough ; I never thought about that. But we shall have time enough after that is over, to dress." "I hope my cap will be done. Oh, well, we must try and not think too much of these poor, dying bodies." ' "Oh, you dear, good creature! I always get some good by coming here; what should I do without such a Christian friend!"And kissing each other affectionately, Mrs. Russell went on her way. But our stay at Mrs. Roff's has been quite long enough for the present, and we must follow our two young ladies, Miss Matilda and her cousin, Mary Roff. They have not yet reached the extent of their journey, for they have called to see several of their school companions, and they are now just passing two small wooden houses adjoining the New York Hospital, in Broadway, between which wooden houses are two latticed gates, through which can be seen two pleasant- looking yards, mostly covered with green sward, and around each yard are covered stands, with tables and benches; a sign over each gate designates the place as a Mead and Beer Gar- den; and as the girls are passing, they hear the pop of a cork and see the white foam of the luscious beverage filling the tumblers, as a young woman, neatly dressed, holds the bottle which she is serving to some young folks at one of the tables., "Do, Matilda, let's go in and get some mead." "No, Cousin Mary, I think not; it looks very tempting, though, does it notV" "Why not go in, then? Come, do." "No, no; I am pretty sure mamma would not wish to have me go; for the other day, when I told her that you and I went in there alone, she said it was all well enough, but she thought, after this, that we girls had not better go there without. some of our gentlemen- friends were with us." "She thought not! that was not forbidding you. And, besides, who will-know it?" "' . . TTF AND UNLIKE. 67 Matilda- was startled, and looked at her cousin as if she was about to express her surprise, but she morely said, "You know, Cousin Mary, I always tell mamma, when I get home, all I have done, where I have been, and all about it." "I hope you don't tell her all you have said?" "Why, yes; if I could think of it. Would you say any- thing you would not wish' to have Aunt Roff hear?" "Yes, I do say many things I should not tell my mother; and so do you, Matilda. For instance, have you not been tallking about James Beaufort, saying how handsome he is, and how polite, and all that, and how glad you were that you couid have him to wait upon you, and " "Yes, I have said something of that kind, but nothing that I should not have said if mamma had been by." "Well, I should not; and I do hope, Matilda, if you do tell, you will not bring in what I have said about him. I do like him, but don't you say a word to a living soul-you hear, now!" "If you are particular about it, cousin, I certainly will try to remember your request. But here we are at Aunt Dinah's." During this conversation they had left Broadway, and turned down Leonard toward Church street. Matilda, opened a latticed gate, and they entered a small yard in which stood a low one-story building, with a little sign on it, "Washing and Ironing done here." A gentle knock at the door was& answered by "Come in." Matilda opened the door and entered. Her cousin, declin- ing to go in with her, whispered, "Don't stay long." A colored woman, somewhat advanced in life and well sup- plied with flesh, was sitting by a table engaged in ironing, and at the moment Matilda entered was pressing with both hands upon the iron and moving it very slowly. The hands, however, were at once released from their work and extended above the head of their owner, and a broad smile lighted up the dark, though comely features: "Oh, you blessed dalrling! is it you?" "It is myself, Aunt Dinah, and I am so glad to see you up." And Matilda walked straight up to those dark, shiny arms that were extended to receive her, and the moment she was within reach was clasped as'in a vice; kisses were bestowed upon her arms and hands, and no doubt the kind-hearted creature would have been delighted to kiss those rosy, dim- pled cheeks, but she made no such attempt. page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 TlWr AND UNLIKE. "I am so glad, Aunt Dinah, to see you up; mamma has been fearing you were sick. You have not been to our house for some weeks." "I know I hasn't; but tell your dear ma tit was utterly unpossible for me to come. You see, Peter is getting worser and worser every day; ha ain't long for here; he's done his work for this world " The voice broke here, but it was evidently not the design of the speaker; it was a natural triumph of feeling, for the moment, over the will; and although the hands were again clasped to the iron, and the smoothing process going on, Matilda saw the dark cheeks dropping the tears which had coursed over them; she had never before seen such signs of sorrow on that face. Aunt Dinah was always of good cheer she was stout-hearted, ever ready to do for others, full of kindness and full of hope. It must be sorrow, indeed, that had forced a tear from her. Catching out her handkerchief, Matilda pressed it to the face of the silent sufferer, and threw her other arm around her neck. This was more than Dinah could bear. She dropped her iron again, and pressing the hand of the dear girl to her face, let nature have its full vent. For a few moments not a word was said. At length Dinah broke forth: "Oh, you blessed child! your own mother's child! you've made a baby of Dinah at the last; but I won't no more." And with a desperate effort she broke away, and with much difficulty, for she seemed quite lame, arose and went to a cupboard near at hand, and taking out a clean white hand- kerchief, soon wiped away all signs of the storm, and with almost a cheerful face, resumed her seat. "You have hurt yourself, Aunt Dinah; you are very lame." "Oh, well, I amjust, but--but it ain't much; it's a little of the old rheumatism that has come back, which I got, you know, living in that damp cellar; and I 'spose being on my feet so, day and night, has gin me a touch of it again. I shouldn't mind it, only, you see, it hurts me to stand; so I have to do my ironing sitting down; it ain't very handy, though, but I make out after a sort." "Mamma was afraid you was sick, or something was the matter, because you had not been to our house, and so she has sent you some money." "Oh, but she has paid me clean up." , "Yes; but -no matter for that, Aunt Dinah, you can make E AND UNLIK-E. 94 -TTKE AND' UNLIKE. 69 that all right with her. I guess this is a present, for if you are so lame and Peter is so sick, how can you work?" "Oh, well, the Lord is good, indeed. I was just beginning to dread the coming round of the week, for the folks doa't think, some of them, and they send their clothes, and I do 'em up the best I know how, but they are so slack about the pay; but your dear mother ain't like the rest; there is Mrs. Rus-. sell, now, ain't paid me for a month; they are rich folks, no doubt, but they don't think how much poor folks want the money 1hey earn. 'But it ain't no matter. Oh, what can I do for that dear woman!" "And here,-Aunt Dinah, is two dollars mamma wishes you to give to that poor woman-that poor white woman you told her about." "Oh, what a blessing this will be! The poor woman is in a bad case, and such a dreadful husband as she has got. She 'told me but yesterday, that she didn't see but they must all go in to the street; and two children is sick, and the woman sewing, sewing, from morning to night, and from night to morning, almost; but the pay is very small, and the husband earns nothing, or if he does, spends it in'drink and carousing around. Oh, it is dreadful, sometimes, to think what folks have to suffer! This two dollars will make her poor heart jump for joy. But wait a minute, dear, and I'll see what I've got." Matilda would have opposed Aunt- Dinah's getting up to see about anything, but she knew it would not stop her, so she said nothing, and in less than the minute there was stand- ing on the table a bottle of spruce-beer-Matilda knew the article of old-and a plate of cookies. ' Now, darling, who is that has come with you? - Call her in." "It is Cousin Mary." Aunt Dinah put up her hands again, and made up a most expressive countenance, denoting extreme amazement. "Do call her in, dear; that is, if she will come; but her mamma was so angry at me cause I had to send three times to get my money, that she spoke very, very hard; but no matter for that, it wasn't the child's fault. Do, call her, dar- ling, and then I'll open the bottle." Cousin Mary had walked off to the further part of the yard, and was looking at some flowers which were growing very luxuriantly in some old, broken tea-pots; it was with some difficulty that Matilda at length succeeded in almost page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] TO7 LIKE AND UNLIKE. dragging her cousin in, but the kind reception she received made the young lady ashamed that she had manifested any reluctance. Immediately the cork was drawn, the smoke burst forth, and the foam after it, the tumblers were filled, -and the cakes were handed and eaten with a relish, and Miss Mary had to acknowledge she had never tasted such delicious beer before. l "Then take more of it, my lady, do take more--it wont hurt you. Oh, it does me so much good to see your young faces. I hope your ma is well." "Oh, very 'Well, I thank you." And very soon the bottle was exhausted, or nearly so, and they ready to depart. Miss Mary thanked the good woman in a very pleasant manner, and even took the dark hand that was extended toward her on parting. But Matilda had a word to say to Aunt Dinah; it was said very close to her ear; it was not a message from her mother, but she made a venture of her own. "Now, Aunt Dinah, don't you be worried how you are to get along. Pa and ma will not let you want for anything; you wont worry, will you?" "Oh, no, blessed child!"And again Aunt Dinah has grasped her hands and kisses the plump little things as though she would devour them. "No, I wont give way to the bad feelings. I do the best I can, and the Lord is so good. And I know your ma is good and considerate; but I was feeling very down-hearted this morning, just afore your blessed face came in at that door; but I am all right now; and you will tell your dear ma that Dinah can't say all she wants to, but I feel it, oh, I do feel it.' The cousins walked for sometime after leaving Aunt Dinah's without either of them speaking. Mary was the first to begin: "She seems to be a clever old soul."* "Aunt Dinah, you mean?" "Yes, Aunt Dinah, as you call her. You are a queer chit, Matilda; you have got all kinds of aunts-black- and white;' it seems to make no difference-to you, whether they are nursery-maids or cooks." "Oh, well, it -seems so natural, you know. Suppose I began when I was very little, and new now it would seem for me to say Grizzle or Dinah. I could not do it; and then they are so good to me!" "I don't see how it'is that the servants you have all seem "KE AND UNLIKE. 71 to be part of your family; and when they go away, they seem to feel, or you do, that they still belong to you. And then you have been so lucky in getting good ones; I wish we could have such luck. Only to think, your Aunt Grizzle, as you call her, just goes on and takes the charge of things when your ma is sick, just as if she was mistress; pours out tea, and I must say looks as nice and behaves as well as any lady. I don't see into it; ours are always snapping and snarling and dissatisfied, and worry ma to death, and they don't stay long enough for one to care about them, any way." "I don't know how it is, I am sure," Matilda replied. Sure enough she did not know, and had never thought about the matter before. It was a subject which she had never heard canvassed at home, for the reason that no changes had ever been made during her remembrance. The old cook was a fixture in the kitchen, and Aunt Grizzle up- stairs, and Matilda no more thought of their leaving their places than she did of her parents leaving -theirs. And why should they? They had each been led by kind and patient, yet- consistent training, to manage in their different depart- ments, by one who knew what she wanted and how she wished things done. And when they had learned their du- ties, they were treated with consideration: their comfort was attended to; their desires gratified as far as possible; their wages regularly paid to the very day; their rooms furnished, not only with necessaries, but little conveniences; -when sick, they were tended with care, and religious instruction im- parted by their kind mistress as she found opportunity. They could come to her freely as to their best friend,-and felt perfectly sure that both the heart and the hand would be ready to help them. Why should they ever wish to make a change, so long as they must serve somewhere? And, doubtless, Mary was equally at a loss to understand why it was that her mother's servants seemed to take no interest in her or the family in general; why they were so dissatisfied, so impertinent, and so ready to go away. Scolding she sup- posed, of course, the unavoidable duty of a mistress, and passive obedience and non-resistance the duty of servants. They were menials, and must be kept at a distance; and made to know their place; but why they were so morose to her, and treated her so very differently from what Matilda was treated at her house, she indeed could not comprehend, and ascribed it, as well she might, for she could imagine no page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 72 LTRFK AND UNLIKE. other reason, to good luck, in getting faithful, kind-hearted persons to serve them. "Well, I don't know either; but I wish to goodness ma would send ours all off, and get some just like yours. But who is old Dinah?-that is, I know she takes in shirts and fine things to wash, for ma used to employ her, and I don't see why she don't now, she does things up so beautifully; pa's shirts are done up sfiamefally. But what I mean is, what makes her seem so fond of you? Did she ever live with you?" "Oh, yes; but it's a long, long time ago. You see, she was born in grandpa's family; she was a slave, and when my pa and ma married, grandpa gave her to ma, and she used to cook, I believe; but when she wished to get married, pa and ma gave her h'er freedom, and she went to live with her hus- band, 'who had a good trade; but he did not get along. They lived at ,Philadelphia; and after a while, pa heard of her there, being very poor and miserable, and he went on and brought them to New York, and hired a place for them, and' got work for her husband; and so, you see, she feels that we have been kind to her, and she has a warm heart; and then ma give ner money once in a while to help her along." "And I wish ma would give money that way, rather than be spending it for young men. Now, don't you think you would be ashamed, if you were a young man, to be living on charity? having a parcel of women meeting together every week, knitting your stockings, making your shirts, and talk- ing about you, and directing you; and, worse than all, going round and begging from the merchants-money, and one thing and another? I should be perfectly ashamed if I was a man*" "I don't know how I should feel. I suppose they are poor, and have no other way; and I suppose they cannot study and work too." "Then I would work and let the study go. But how does James Beaufort do it? You say he is busy all day, and every evening he takes his book and studies Latin and French and ever so many things! "Oh, well, pa says he is a very singular young man, and ma says he is very fond of his mother and sisters, and is anxious to get ahead, so that he may take care of them. No doubt Junius would do so too, if your pa was not a rich man v . "KE AND UNLIKE. 73 "My pa a rich man! I should like to see some of his riches, then. I know people say he is rich and making ever so much money; but why, then, does he skimp us so?"' "Oh, Mary, how can you say so? Don't you have every- thing? Don't you have most beautiful dresses and all kind of things, and your sisters too? And is not your house most beautifully furnished, and you have parties whenever you want them, and everything?" "Well, I know that; but what a fuss pa makes about it. He scolds sometimes like anything when the bills come in, and ma has to keep putting off the servants from their wages, and she can't keep a cent by her, because pa is always crying out that money is so scarce. Where's the use of being called rich and all that if there has to be such a fuss every time a little money is wanted? I wish Junius would get a place and go to work and earn something for himself, and not be lolling around; he don't like to study, and he won't. But there, Matilda, see there! see that fellow Sue has got in tow--a real dandy, is he not?" The parties alluded to were approaching them. The lady was very gaily dressed; she was the eldest of Mrs. Roff's children, rather pretty, and of a beautiful form, which- was set off to advantage by her dress. She was laughing and talking and seemed in high spirits. Beside her was a young man, dressed in the extreme of fashion, and twirling a light cane; he wore very high-heeled boots, and his hair was long and covered the collar of his coat, his ears, and the sides of Iris face. The face was not a handsome one-there was a hardness and boldness in its expression; but he had fine teeth, and showed them almost constantly, for he was laugh- ing, in sympathy doubtless with the lady. As the parties passed each other, Miss Susan nodded to Matilda, but -took no notice of her sister. The gentleman-for I suppose we ,must thus designate him--gave a bold stare at the girls, and they could distinctly hear him say to his companion: "I declare! A very pretty girl that. Who is it?" "I wonder Sue will be seen in Broadway with such'a look- ing fellow!" "' Do you know him, Cousin Mary?" "No- yesi I know he was at our house, the other evening, and they say he is from the country, and that he is rich, and what a fiight he is!" The young gentleman was not thought a fright, however, by many young ladies somewhat older than she was. There 4 page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74: TI,F, AND UNLIKE. was nothing that any of them could have pointed out as peculiarly interesting. He could converse about trifles, and could say flattering things to their faces-for he was not gifted with modesty; he could dance well, too, it was said, and was such a good-natured fellow-but that they merely guessed at. The crowning excellence of the young man in their eyes, and that which covered over many unpleasant rumors respecting him, was "' that he was rich ;" and in this they were correct: he was rich. His father had lately died, and his share of the property was not less than a hundred thousand-it was not two hundred thousand, as reported. But one hundred thousand was enough for all the purposes it was likely to be used, and quite enough to give him a passport to domestic establishments where, if he had been poor, he would neyer have been welcome. We likewise can say to the -reader that he is the same young gentleman who was met by James Beaufort, when on his way to. New York, while riding with the young farmer who treated him so kindly -the latter making the remark " that he did not care to have him calling so often at their house." His home was in that vicinity, but much of his time of late was spent in the city. Matilda made no answer to her cousin's remark. She was not in the habit of calling persons- by hard names, wliatever she might think; and just then she was thinking more of having her cousin go home with her and spend the day, than of the appearance of the young man, and almost immediately made the request. "Oh, I should like to,'dearly. I almost wish I could live at your house-everything goes on so smooth and pleasant; I feel so at home there, I can do just as I please; and Uncle Sterling is so good-natured, and your ma is so kind. But, you must stop at our house with me and let me ask ma-like as not she will have some objection or other; but we will go and see." As the girls entered the house and were about to enter the back room, Matilda was startled -by hearing .her uncle speaking with some one in a loud and harsh tone, and imme- diately was beginning to retrace her steps, when Mary caught hold of her. ' Stop, Matil, just stop, they're at it, hammer and tongs; stop now, I say, it will soon be over." And by main force, her cousin prevented her from going; her whole frame, though, was in a tremor. She was not accustomed. to hard z TIKF AND UNLIKE. 75 speaking, and her sensitive spirit especially shrunk from listening to a. contest between two whom she had been taught to respect; for she discovered at once the disputants were her uncle and aunt. , But she could scarcely bring herself to. believe that .her aunt could be the same person whom she heard that morning a few hours ago conversing in such a pious strain with her Christian friend Mrs. Russell; but strangest of all, how could her dear cousin, Mary, bear to listen to such altercation, and wish her to do the same! Her cousin Mary, however, had become hardened to such scenes, and to her it was mere sport! In a few moments Mr. Roff left the room, passing through a further door and up the back stairs, and Mary, after requesting her cousin to wait there a moment, entered the parlor. "Ma, I want to go and spend the afternoon at Aunt Sterling's." "You shall do no such thing; here has your father been berating me for you and your sisters going out, and dressing, and everything, merely because Constance & Co. have sent in their bill to him this morning. No, you shan't go out of the house, not one of you-you shall stay home and be nfns, the whole of you." "Don't speak so loud, ma; Matilda is in the entry." "Why didn't you tell me that before?" in a low voice. "Ah, I didn't know you was going to scold-how shotald I?" "Oh dear me, I wish I was in heaven-there is no peace nor rest in this world. Go, call your cousin in." ' Oh, ma, she can't stop a minute, she must go right home, and I want to go with her. Junius can come for me to-night; you know he likes to go there so." We cannot say that this was an artful turn on the part of the young lady, probably it was not; it happened to be merely a simple statement of a trifling fact; but it had great effect upon the mind of Mrs. Roff; it gratified her much to have,Junius intimate at his uncle's, and she was pleased to know that he was fond of going there." "Oh, well, I suppose you must go; but where is Matilda?" And following her daughter into the hall, she was about to speak, when Matilda burst into tears. She had restrained her feelings as long as she could, but a sight of her aunt overpowered her, and she had to give vent to, her laboring heart. Mrs. Roff seemed to compreliend the cause of her trouble at once. page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 ' LIRE AND UNLIKE. "You dear child! come here to me," and putting her arm around her,-she led the weeping girl into the parlor. This tender embrace from one who had scarcely ever before mani- fested for her much tenderness of feeling, but made the storm more furious, and Matilda sobbed as if her heart was broken. You dear child! You cannot bear to hear scolding, I know you cannot, you are not used to it. I have to scold sometimes, dear Matilda. Poor child, ,you will be sadly fitted to meet the storms of life-your heart is too tender!" They sat down together on the sofa, and while she was tenderly smoothing her glossy hair as she pressed the dear girl's head to her bosom, there was a tumult in the breast of Mrs. Roff very unlike anything that had made disturbance there for a long, long time. Years long gone were back again, and years of more- recent date, with their heterogeneous mixture of good and evil. Thoughts, too, fulll of wholesome instruction, if she will but listen to them-her own delin- quencies; her want of faithfulness to those who were grow- ing up under her care; the better way which she felt conscious she was not pursuing! Yes, the tears of this girl are reminding her how little she has done to cherish the kindlier feelings in her own family. And oh how sickly now appear the multitude of duties, as she has called theni, in which she has been engaged,' amid the outworks of religion, for (" her own vineyard she has not kept." It took some time to calm the troubled waters, and diary was very anxious to be off, for she feared something might yet turn up to prevent her going with Matilda; so, watching for a favorable moment, and taking her cousin's hand, she asked kindly: "Shall we go now, cousin?" It almost startled her mother, for she was deep in thought, and did not seem to wish the spell broken. Matilda raised her face, and putting her arm around the- neck of her aunt, kissed her-it was unexpected, but it was done in such an affectionate manner, and the eye of Matilda was fixed upon her with an expression of so much tenderness, that all the better feelings in the heart of Mrs. Roff were aroused. She returned the embrace, and as the two girls left the room, she reclined her head upon the arm of the sofa and wept. The great mistake Mrs. Roff had made, was, that she had overlooked some of the distinguishing traits in the life of Him ., '. "KE AND UNLIKE. " whom she professed to love, and whom we cannot but hope she did love. She had not studied that character as closely as she ought, nor realized that her prominent duty as a Christian and of more consequence to herself and the world than all the active labors she could perform in the church, was, to assunme this character herself, to be at home and abroad a true exemplar of her great Pattern. Mrs. Roff sat for some time, making good resolutions one minute, and even asking for grace to keep them ; and then again, as some of the obliquities of her situation would obtrude themselves--' the unreasonableness of her husband, or the difficulties which kept coming up every few days in the shape of milliners' and merchants' bills"-would banish all the better feelings and leave her in a state of mind not easily described, but most certainly not well calculated to advance growth in grace. So hard is it to retrace a wrong path! Her tears, however, have been at last dried away; and well they have, for her elder daughter has come in and the gentle- man with whom she had been promenading with her. "Mr. Somerindyke, mamma." The gentleman did the best he could at a bow; but the heels of his boots were so high and narrow, that he was very much in the condition of a person on stilts. He did bow, however, and showed his teeth, and pushed the long hair firom his eyes, and tried to do the best he could to make him- self agreeable to " mamma." And Mrs. Roff,- knowing that he was esteemed a great catch for somebody, did her best to give him a hearty welcome. She had forgotten at once all the thoughts she had indulged about herself and children, and was quite ready to join in with all the small talk which seemed so agreeable to the young man. Very soon the gen- tleman arose and bade them good morning. '"You will be sure to be here this evening, and with your pumps on." - This was said by Miss Susan, her mother looking- some- what startled, both at the peculiar manner of her daughter, as she knew their acquaintance had been very -slight, and at the peculiar request. What it meant she could not imagine. ' Ah, ha! ah, ha! must I, Miss Susan?" "Yes, indeed, if you expect to have me for a partner!" "Ah, ha! ah, ha! Mrs. Roff, do you allow such things in your house? Dancing, I hear, is prohibited among our reli. gious folks." ' { -Mrs. Roff colored much more than her daughter could have page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 7 8 LIKE AND UNLIKE. wished. She had some reasons for her confusion which Susan did not know; but she made out to reply. quite graciously. "Oh, well, a little in the family sometimes, just for variety and exercise; there can be no harm in that." "So I think, madam. Ah, ha! ah, ha! Well, Miss Susan, I will be here, sure as fate-and with the pumps as you com- mnand. Ah, ha! ah, ha! Good morning, ladies." The door had no sooner closed upon Mr. Somerindyke than Airs. Roff asked rather anxiously : "What is it, Susan-? You going to have company this evening?" , "Only just a set; just to make up a cotillon. The girls are delighted to come; they are crazy to dance with Somer- indyke, but I guess they will be sadly mistaken. He has engaged me for the evening; but I shall let the poor souls have a turn. But what's the matter, ma? you look as demure as if you had just come out of your prayer-meeting! And what made you color so when Sam spoke to you about dancing? I felt really mortified." "Do-don't, my dear. I hope you don't call the young man so to his face?" "And why not? The girls all call him Sam. He's a real clever soul. He don't mind it." "Ah, well; things have changed wonderfully since my day." "I suppose they have. But what's the trouble now? There is something the matter-I know there is." C"There is matter enough. Your father has been going on like anything at me because Constance & Co. have sent in their bill." -"Well, did he not expect to pay it? He knew all the time that we went there for 'most everything!" "Yes, I know that; but I suppose it is larger than he anti- cipated. I think there must be some great mistake in it; we never could have had so much. It is five hundred dollars." ^ "Five hundred dollars! and what is that? I'll be bound he makes that every day of his life." "I don't know how that is; but he says money is dreadful scarce, and that we are spending enormously; and that he will be ruined yet!" "Yes, that's the way he always talks. Why don't he, then, give us an allowance, as other men do, and not make us all come to him for every sixpence we want?" "KE AND UNLIKE. 79 "There is no use in talking so, Susan. But, about the company to-night. I don't see how you'll manage. There must be entertainment? you know." 'C Of course there must. Let Jerusha make some cake; there is wine enough in the house, and we can send over to Rose's for the ice-cream." "Jerusha is so cross this morning, I don't know but she will leave. She wants some money, and I was just going to ask your pa for it when lie brought up the matter of this bill, and went upstairs in such a huff, I dare not say a word about it; but the girls ought to have their money." "'I'll manage Jerusha; leave that to me." ,' But I expect your pa will be very angry when he hears you are going to have company again to-night." "Oh, no, he won't. I shall not say anything about it until he has got his dinner down and two or three glasses of Madeira. Men are always cross when they are hungry. You leave it to me, I know when to take him; and -besides, if he says anything, I shall ask him why he goes to parties if he don't expect us to give parties too? Aren't we all going to the Bigelow's to-morrow night? and he'll be drinking champagne and as lively as the best of them." Thus saying, Miss Susan took one look at herself in the large glass, and humming a tune, walked away to see what she could do by way of "managing Jerusha," while Mrs. Roff still sat reclining upon the sofa. She was by no means in a happy frame of mind; no one feature of her circum- stances satisfied her. Her husband was no doubt unreason- able; but she could get along with that. She could put on a sad face and appear very unhappy, and when in his more genial moods, that would trouble him, and he would, after a while, come round and square matters up. But the children were not pursuing a course that she believed to be right. She knew they were not walking as the children of Christian parents ought to walk; they were too fond of all the vani- ties of life. She could perceive it in them while she could overlook it in herself. "But how was she to help it? They were young; and young people must enjoy themselves. there could be no harm in a little dance. Susan was of an age, too, when, if ever, she must mingle in society; and then this young man who had lately come in their way was no doubt quite a prize-it would not do for her to throw any obstacle in the way if he was so rich as every one said; it would be just the thing for Susan; she must marry a rich , . , page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] MO LTIKTE AND UNLIKE. man, or she never could be happy. She was fond of the finer things of life, and must have them. All she the mother could do was to pray for them." But we must leave Mrs. Roff to settle matters as she best can with her conscience, and Miss Susan to " manage Jeru- sha," and prepare for the evening hilarity, and follow Matilda and Mary to-the house of the former. Full of glee, the girls bounded up the stairs and into the room where they knew Aunt Grizzle would be. -' Oh, my darling, how you have stayed! but hurry all you can. Here, Miss Mary, let me take your things, and both of you just fix your hair a little-they are at dinner; here, Matilda, let me, you can never get the comb through those curls-'what a tangle they're in!"And Aunt Grizzle made all the haste she could, but she had to work with caution, for the curls were in rather a jumbled state. "There, dear, I guess that will do, and if your pa says anything, tell him its my fault, that I hurried you so." It was a small party to be sure, but a very cheerful one at that dinner table, for Mrs. Sterling was again in her place, and looking quite bright; and her fond husband was so pleased to see her there, that his spirits were unusually gay. James Beaufort was the only one beside themselves at table. "A pretty how do do, this is, you runaways! A little more, and you would have lost your dinners, both of you. Mary, dear, come give your old uncle a kiss.' And Miss Mary did as requested, and very graciously too; but she could not help blushing a great deal; one reason, no doubt, was, that such endearments were not common at home, but perhaps the more powerful one was that the circumstance could not but be noticed by the young gentleman present. Miss Mary, however, behaved very well, and not Anly kissed her uncle, but went round, and in quite an affectionate man. ner gave the same salutation to her -aunt. She looked all the prettier for the operation. James, in the mean time, had risen, and placed a seat for her, which she acknowledged by a very gracious smile. "And now, girls, tell us where, you, have been, and what you have been at." " Matilda must tell you, uncle, for you know I only went to accompany her." "Oh, well, pa; we have been almost everywhere. In the first place, I called, you know, at Aunt Roff's to get Cousin "KE AND UNLIKE. 81 Mary. And mamma, Aunt Roff sends a great deal of love to you, and so does Mrs. Russell." "Have you called at Mrs. Russell's, too; my dear?" (' No, ma, but you see she was at Aunt Roff's when I called; is she not very handsome, ma?" "Very good looking indeed." , That is more than can be said for her husband," said Mr. Sterling. "Mr. Russell is a clever, kind-hearted fellow, but he has no beauty to spare." "But he is dreadful stingy, uncle-ma says he is." "Hoot, toot! Miss Molly, we must not call folks by such names; how would you like to hear your old uncle called stingy?" "I should tell them you was not stingy, I knew you were not, and that you let aunt have just as much money as she wants." ' That is right, Mary, and he lets me have everything I ask for, too," said Matilda. Mr. Sterling put down his knife and fork. "Mamma, I shall have to turn over a new leaf, and shut up my purse. A pretty name I am getting, to be sure! Very soon I shall find my credit doubted, and the banks be throw- ing out my paper." "Oh, well, dear, I think your credit will stand such a test; but I must say a word in favor of Mr. Russell. I think, Mary dear, that very likely Mrs. Russell may in the indulgence of hter kind feelings go further than her husband thinks prudent for them; you know that gentlemen comprehlend more about their pecuniary matters in general than ladies can be supposed to. They have to be familiar with all the expenses of a family; the burden comes upon them, and no doubt, at times, presses heavily even upon those who are quite well off. And we ladies ought to -learn to sympathize with them, and be sure and keep within the bounds of what our husbands think best, or what they allow us. And as to Miss Matilda here, her wants are very trifling at present; they do not extend muchi beyond some oranges or confectionery." Mary had never heard her mother reason in such a way, nor make apologies for Mr. Russell, or any other of her friends' husbands; but she was old enough to appreciate the instruction. "' I am sorry, aunt, that I called Mr. Russell stingy. I will try and remember what you have'said." "That is spoken like a noble girl," said the uncle; ' never 4* page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 LIKE AND UNLIKE. be afraid, my dear Mary, when you have done wrong, to confess it. I shall give you a good mark for this, depend on it." "And now, go on, Matilda, and tell us about your travels this morning," said Mrs. Sterling. "Oh, well, mamma, we called on some of the girls, and had a good time with them, and then we went to see Aunt Dinah." - "And how is she, Matilda, dear?" said Mrs. Sterling, with some anxiety on her countenance. "I hope she is not sick." !"Oh no, ma; she is not quite sick, but she is so lame with the rheumatism, that she can hardly hobble round the room; and she was sitting down to her ironing." "Poor thing!" "But, ma, that is not the worst of it. Peter is very sick, and Aunt Dinah feels dreadfully. She cried when she spoke of him.." "Then he must be very ill. Dinah never sheds tears with- out a powerful reason. My dear husband, we ought to see about them at once." "We must, indeed." '"How would it do for me to ride there this afternoon? I feel as if the air would do me good." -c Do by all means. James will go and order a carriage whenever you say, and I suppose I must go with you." \ "No, my dear, I know you dislike riding so much, I will not put you to that trouble. I have learned from Master James that he has been used to horses, and that at home he constantly drives out with his mother and sisters." As Mrs. Sterling looked ,at him to confirm what she had said, James felt called upon to reply. "That was, Mrs. Sterling, before our place and our horses were sold. Of late, we have not had any such pleasure." "What I would propose is, that James should go to Mr. Shaw's and get that horse and gig which I often see come to our neighbors. I like riding in a gig so much better than in those close car iages." "Do you think," said Mr. Sterling to James, " you: can drive in the city?" "I think I can, sir, without- any difficulty. I have often driven in Albany." 4' You must ask them for a very, very gentle horse." James smiled as he replied: "KE AND UNLIKE. 83 "I 'Will, sir, if you insist upon it, but all the horses in town seem to be pretty well used up; not much danger from them, I should imagine." "Suppose he should run away?" "We must sit still, then, sir, and hold on until he stops." ' Have you ever been run away with?" "Oh, yes, sir." FC How did you manage?" "I did the best I could, sir; I kept him on the road until he was ascending a hill, and then, by a little extra pulling, managed to bring him to. He had not been properly har- nessed by the hostler." "Ca'n you tell when a horse is properly harnessed, for I cannot? "I ought to be able, sir; I have harnessed my own horse ever since I was eight years of ace, and driven him, too." "Well done; it is not every boy can say that. Well, mamma, if you say- so, so be it; I will trust you with this young gentlemnan, but I don't know another in the city I would let you ride with. But be careful, now, James; see what kind of a horse you get, and look well to the harness." "I will, sit', most certainly. What time, Mrs. Sterling, would you wish to go?" "I care not how soon after dinner ; as soon as Mr. Sterling comes down, you may go for him; that is, pa, if you can spare James." "By all means." Requesting to be excused, James bowed to the company at the table and left the room. "Poor fellow!" said Mr. Sterling, '"I expect he has seen sad changes in his young life." "He has, indeed; I had a long talk with him last night, after Matilda Jad gone to bed and while you were out. I wanted to know about his affairs, as far as I could without hurting his feelings, and so I asked one thing and another, until he told me the whole. I knew, as soon as I heard he was the son of Captain Beaufort, of Pleasantvale, that his family once lived in fine style; it was, in fact, the principal family in that vicinity. But from what he told me, I gathered that great wrong had been done them at his father's death. A suit was commenced by a gentleman in this city, for a claim that their lawyers told them could never be sustained; but by some crook in the law the judge had to decide against them, and their beautiful place went into other hands, and the expenses page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 LIKE AND UNLIKE. of the lawsuit took everything, almost, they had. Their fur niture was -sold at auction, and all they had left was a few hundred dollars and a small farm-house. But he has been admirably brought up; any one can see that." -"Yes; and no doubt he will do better than if it had all remained.". "Oh, I do not know, papa," said Mrs. Sterling, " it is so hard for a young nlan to begin on nothing, and then have others depending upon him." "No doubt it is hard; but it will be all the better for him; every dollar he earns, and every dollar he spends for his mother and sisters, will do him good; it will make him more manly; it will give him nobler, kinder feelings. He has got -an aim in life, now; he has a great object in- view; he feels a necessity to exert himself to the utmost, and that is what a man wants." ' I believe he does exerlt himself." "He does so; I never had such a close applicant to my business, before; he is into:everything, don't mind doing anything, and never gets tired. The customers like him, too. He will make a good salesman ; he speaks just what he thinks to be the truth, and the folks get confidence in him. I shall give the books in his charge to-morrow; he is very anxious, I kn'ow, to get at them." "He can play on the piano, too, papa," said Matilda, " he can play on it beautifully." "Now, Matilda, dear, I am afraid James will feel hurt to know that you have mentioned that." "Why,--mamma? he did not tell me not to mention it." "But he asked me, after you had gone out, not to say any- thing to your pa about it. He said it was an accomplishment he learned at home, when he had nothing else to do; he did not mean to follow it up, for he had other things of more con- sequence to engage his attention now; and he was 'afraid if Mr. Sterling knew it, he might think it a rather trifling business for a man; but he does play beautifiully." "Let him play, then ; what hurt can it do, so long as it does 'not take his attention from more important things. Let him play, by all means." "Oh, then we will have some music this evening, shall we not, Cousin Mary?" "My dear," said Mr. Sterling to his wife, " you had better take -your purse with you; Dinah may be wanting some little extras." - LIKE AND UNLIKE. 85 "Yes; but, pa, that was the very thing I went for this morning, and she was glad to receive it, although at first she would not take it; she said ma had paid her in full." "Never mind, Matilda, dear; your pa will not care to hear about our little arrangements with Dinah; he leaves that to you and me. It is enough for him to keep our parses supplied." "Yes; but, ma, mine is completely empty-not a penny in it!" "Why, aunt, no wonder!" exclaimed Miss Mary; " she gives to all the beggars that ask her. This morning, twice, she would stop and listen to their stories, and the last time she gave an old woman all she had in her!purse. Pa says these beggars are a nuisance, and that they ought all to be put in the workhouse." "Well, pa, I know you would, have done it-now you must not look so serious at me-I know you would have let me give it, if you had seen the poor thing and heard her story." Mr. Sterling did indeed have a serious aspect as he looked at his pet; but there was no displeasure in the feeling that v caused it; there might have been a little pride-and yet he could hardly have been blamed if some of the latter feeling had just then been at work. There was such an artless exhibition of such traits as lie wished to see developed in his child-traits that are the crowning excellence of woman. ". A heart quick to sympathize with suffering, and an un- suspicious disposition, ready to be imposed upon." He had rather know that his daughter could not stop in the out- pouring of her kind feelings to scrutinize with a suspicious eye, the object that obtruded its necessities upon her, than that she had made shrewd inquiries, and followed them up with a keen research until she had ascertained that some little discrepancy was found between the story and the abso- lute truth. "I am glad, my dear, that you emptied your purse, if you really felt that the poor woman needed the money. She may have needed it just as much as she said she did-and it is possible she may not" have been quite in such a strait as she made you believe; but no doubt she waspoor-perhaps could do nothing else, whereby to live, but to -beg, and tell her sad story, even if it was not in all particulars consistent with the facts in the case. At any rate, you were not to blame for that; and better for those who can afford it, to page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 " LIKE AND UNLIKE, give to nine unworthy supplicants for charity, than let the tenth poor sufferer, that truly needed, go away with a sad and aching heart. We cannot always distinguish between real -and assumed poverty, But my own opinion is, that in our country few beg but the really poor." '4 Our Saviour once cured ten lepers of their foul malady, but only one of them turned back to give him thanks or to glorify God." Mrs. Sterling looked steadily at her husband as she said this, although the eyes of both the young ladies were fixed upon her as she spoke. She designed her quota- tion to confirm the opinion he had just expressed, "that we must not stop doing good because we may suspect evil." Our Saviour did good to those whom he knew to be un- worthy. "Your principle, my deal, accords with *good authority." He did not reply, but a sudden twinkle of his eye denoted that he felt the force of her remarks. She wished to prove to him whenever she had an opportunity, that although he did not yet dare to ,proclaim himself a believer, yet his prin- ciples of action were drawn from a holy source. Faithful and loving wife! She knew the heart of her husband and when to drop a thought that his good sense would know how to profit by. And she had wisdom to say no more. The girls, perhaps, did not take the full force of what Mrs. Sterling had said. But Mary was somewhat surprised to hear -a quotation from the Scriptures at such a time, and under such circumstances. All she ever heard from the Bible was when it was read on the Sabbath, and then it seemed to her rather a matter of form connected with the day, than a lesson for her thoughts and conduct.' "And now, my dear," said Mr. Sterling, "I will go down, and you may be getting yourself in readiness, for James will not be long in getting the horse and gig; he is full in the spilrit of it." It was indeed but a short time before the gig was at the door, and James standing by the horse's head, while Mr. Sterling assisted the lady to her seat. "Are you sure the horse is gentle, now? He looks rather gay." "He drives finely, sir-just the thing." "And have you examined the harness?" "I have, sir. Depend upon it, everything is right Y': There was quite a collection of carts ahead of them, and Mr. Sterling watched with much anxiety to see how the , "KE AND UNLIKE. 87 young man would manage but onward went the horse at -a free pace, and safely through the clustering carts the vehicle was steered. "I see he knows how to drive," said Mr. Sterling to the girls, who had been standing in the door. "Now go up stairs, my darlings, and make yourselves as happy as you can." Matilda would have gone directly to the room where she knew A/unt Giizzle was sure to] be found, busy with her needle; but Mary, for particular reasons, wished to be in the parlor. "She wanted to practise,v she said. "Why, Cousin Mary! I thought you disliked the piano so much? You have told me you never practise or play without you are obliged to-that you hated the piano. But I am so glad! forT wish to practise, too; and we can spend the afternoon, can we not, in getting our new lesson?" "Oh, I don't mean to practise the lesson--not I. Do you practise when your teacher is not by?" ' Why, certainly, Cousin Mary. How can we learn the lesson he gives us without we do? That is the wav, you see, that I came to find out that James Beaufort could play. I was stumbling along, and making very sad work, for Mr. Clark had forgotten to mark my piece to tell me how to finger it, and I said to mamma I did not believe I should be able to do anything with it, when all at once James left his book, and, coming to the piano, ' Perhaps, Miss Matilda,' said he" "Does he call you Miss Matilda?" "Surely. It sounds stiffly, does it not?" "I shall not have him call me Miss Mary--see if I do." "But how will you help it? He is so polite and so re- served." "Oh, I Fwill find a way. I will tell him I do not like it, it is too formal for friends." "Oh, well-but" "But what, Matilda?" "Oh, nothing. I suppose if I was to ask him not to say it, he might, to oblige me, omit the miss-but I think he ' would prefer not to." "You are a queer girl; Matilda! You seem to:want every one to do that which pleases them best. We ought to be 'pleased sometimes, too." "Well, it pleases me well enough to have him call me page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 . T4TRt AND UNLIKE. ,Miss Matilda. It seems easier for him, and you know if I should say anything about it, it might embarrass him and me to. When he has been here a year or twos you know, it will be different; but perhaps not--he is so particular and proper in all his conduct! But now to our practising. You Say you will not take the lesson?" "No, I shall not. But you have not told me yet how you found out he could play." "We11, as I was saying, he stepped up and said, ' Miss Matilda, perhaps I can help you'with the fingering, if you will allow me.' Mamma and I both looked at him with astonishment. So I gave him my seat, and he run his fingers over the piano, and played the tune, that is a few bars of it, and then marked the notes, and was going to get up, when mamma came up and insisted upon his playing, and to please her he did: and you cannot think how beautifully he plays. But you shall hear him this evening." Cousin Mary said nothing further on the subject, but taking her seat at the piano, turned to some one or two tunes she had partly learned, for, to tell the truth, although she had been taking lessons for ttwo years, she had not yet learned one tune perfectly; and no wonder, if, as she said, she only practised while the teacher stood over her. She had an object, however, in making herself as perfect as pos- sible with what little she had learned. With all patience imaginable, Matilda listened to the blunders of her cousin, and turned the page for her, and occasionally corrected an error; for Matilda, although but a few months a learner, was yet in advance of her cousin. "Which of these tunes do I play the best, Matilda?" "I should think you play this last as well as either." "It is the prettiest tune, too, is it not?" "Perhaps it is--it is the most simple, and easiest played." "Well, then, I will try this one; Iwant to get it as per- fect as I can. Oh dear! I do wish I didn't hate to practise so, and had been a little more diligent; I mean to after this." It was very strange to Matilda what had given her cousin all at once such a passion for the piano, nor could she really suppose she meant to exhibit her skill before company; but she knew Mary had sudden freaks and fancies, and of course supposed that she had one now-its object she took no thought of. "There now, I guess that will do. Oh dear, how tired my "KE AND UNLIKE. 89 fingers are ! I never played so long at a time before. There now, let us sit by the window, and watch for thein to drive up; it must be time for them to be back." -" Oh, not yet, surely; it is quite a distance, you know, and mamma, will want to talk with Dinah, and see all about. her, and no doubt she will wish to see another poor woman that Dinah told her about, a white woman, who is very poor and helpless." "Dear me, Matilda! I never see what a fuss you make here about the poor. Pa says the more we do for them, the more we may; that it is their own fault -they are lazy, and had rather beg than work." "I don't know how it is, nor what is the reason there are so many poor; but this one I was speaking about, never begs. Dinah says she believes she would starve first. Is it not a dreadful thing, though, Cousin Mary, to be poor ?" "I suppose it must be. There! I hear a carriage now," and so saying, the young lady ran to the window, while Matilda took her seat at the piano, and turned to the lesson which she wished to practise. It was not, however, the carriage which the young lady wished to see. Nor did that wished-for carriage make its appearance for a long, long time, at least so it seemed to the young lady; but, there she sat and watched, and her cousin continued to practise her lesson, until, with a light heart, she bounded from the piano to the window beside her. "Oh, Mary, you cannot think how glad I am. I can play the most difficult part of my lesson. I have conquered it at last; how happy one feels, when, after trying, and trying, and trying again, you accomplish it at last! Is it not so ?" "I don't see what keeps them so." Poor Mary had all the perseverance of Matilda, it would seem, only manifested in a different way and to a different end. Matilda had perse- vered and made an advance in her power over the accom- plishment she was learning. Mary had kept a constant. watch tfrom the window, stretching her sight as far as possible: among the confusion of the moving vehicles, but she had gained nothing, not even patience. She was evidently none the happier by her long effort. Thle door was opened, and a servant entered and began to make preparations for tea. "Come, Cousin Mary, let us go up and see Aunt Grizzle, and get ourselves ready for tea; there is no use in watching they will come just as, soon without watching; and pa-is page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 - TttFR AND UNLIKE. down in the office, he will be ready to help mamma and wait upon her up stairs, I know he will." Ashamed to keep her position after all the excuse for it was thus artlessly removed, Mary was preparing to follow her cousin, when all at once she perceived the gig at the door. It had come in the opposite direction from that where she had been gazing, and had reached its stopping place with- out her notice. Mr. Sterling was on hand, as Matilda pre- dicted, so James did not have occasion to leave his seat. She did not catch' even a glimpse of his face, nor he of her, and the moment her aunt was lifted out, James drove off. The whole tiling was, in some way, a disappointment to Miss Mary, although what she anticipated, it would have been dif- ficult, perhaps, for herself to have specified. All the light thrown upon the matter can only be gained from what she said as-the gig wheeled away. "He .might have looked up! he must have seen me look- ing out." Mrs. Sterling seemed much invigorated by her ride, and was very free in her expressions of satisfaction with the care- ful driving of her young gallant. This was all very well, it no doubt increased the respect of all parties for him; a man or boy who can manage a horse well, is no doubt looked upon as one who has attained at least one degree of manliness. But this did not diminish a certain amount of disappointment under which Miss Mary was laboring, and what added much to it, was the conduct of Master James at the table-he was polite, to be sure, but made a very short meal of it, and as soon as decency would allow, asked Mrs. Sterling if he might be excused. Miss Mary had not half finished her meal, nor had the rest of the family; but as James had been made to feel at homei and as it was not an- unusual thing for hidh thus to leave, none but the young lady thought anything of the matter. Mr. Sterling was in fine spirits; he was so rejoiced to find his good lady so much improved by her ride, and to know that he might with safety allow her to repeat the experiment, and without being himself compelled to accom- pany her, as he had a perfect dislike to riding in any kind of vellicle. And Mrs. Sterling was herself much more'cheerful than usual, the return of healthful feeling was now so mani- fest. She seemed to take a new lease of the pleasures which life, -under her happy circumstances, so richly dis- penses. At candle lighting, Junius Roff made his appearance; he TrE AND UNLIKE. 91 was very cordially received, and the little circle in different parts of the room were soon seated in separate divisions, and engaging in free converse, as suited their different ages and iresponsibilities. Junius was quite an easy, gentlemanly young fellow, with a full flow of talk; he was rather good looking, and was dressed full as well as one of his age ought to be. A little too much attention seemed to have been bestowed upon the curls that dangled about his head, and if his hair had been cut shorter, it would doubtless have improved his appearance in the eyes of many; but that was the fashion just then for -the exquisites, and they too often influence those younger than themselves, especially in dress. Aside from his curls, and his fashionable dress and his good looks, however, Junius was a pleasant young fellow. He had a kind disposition and a good intellect. He was, indeed, not fond of study, and had gotten along at school by a certain aptness at catching just enough of a lesson to make a passable recitation and no more. He was at present merely a hanger on in his father's store--a wholesale grocery and commission establishment-his mother not wishing him to be a clerk there, because she had a strong prejudice against one of the partners of the concern. There is no telling, therefore, what Junius will be, for he is not under circumstances favorable to a development of his true character. He is, however, quite a gallant, is well received among all the circles of young ladies, but seems more inclined toward that of his Cousin Matilda; he waits upon her when at parties, and seems to do it with pleasure; no notice, of course, is taken of that fact by Matilda or her parents--they are cousins, and yet quite young, and not a word has ever been lisped to Matilda by any of her own family in -regard to these attentions of Junius, any more than if he had been her brother. She treats him with all kindness, and gets along with him much more smoothly than she can at all times do with his sister. Mary, however, for some reason, has on this day, whose scenes we have been unfolding, appeared much more docile, more kind, more reasonable and thoughtful than Matilda remembered to have seen her; and the two cousins have enjoyed, really enjoyed the day together, and Matilda, feel- ing so happy and contented with herself and all about her, is ready to meet Cousin Junius at least half way, and they are talking in as free and social a manner as though the "old folks" were not in the room. , Mary joins in a little, page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] 92 LIKE AND UNLIKE. but she is not at ease, she is not over her past disappoint- ment, or else is suffering further in that way. She falls her- self a great deal, looks at the clock often, then through the open door into the hall and stairway, and has a sober cast to her countenance, and if forced to laugh or to smile, makes -quick work of it, a mere flash, and all over. Mr. and Mrs. Sterling are busily engaged in conversation carried on in rather an undertone; what they are talking about would not be interesting to the other group, and per- haps-not best that they should hear, but quite necessary that the reader should--we will, therefore, leave the young circle and join this. "You think Peter will not recover?" "The physician thinks he cannot; he is quite resigned, however, poor fellow; he feels so grateful for what we have done for him and Dinah; he said to me, ' Missus, I know I aint long, for this world; I am not afraid to die, thank God through Jesus Christ-yes, thank God for that. And thank you, missus, for all your teaching; without that, I 'fear I should not now be so easy on this bed. And I want you to thank Master Sterling for all his kindness; he has had great trouble with us.' "Pooh, pooh!"Mr. Sterling could not have replied just then but in some such short sentence, and, Mrs. Sterling could not have said anything at all if she had not let the tears come and flow gently as she was talking. How lovely she looked in the eyes of her doting husband! That beauti- ful face, so calm, so mild! and those glistening eyes fixed fill upon him, without the least attempt to hide the emotion that was filling them! How he almost adored her and envied the sweet and winning power she possessed, in that piety that ruled her heart, and had been in more than one or two instances the means of winning a soul to the hope of the Gospel; yes, he loved her for her piety, it was so like what he believed the great Master exhibited! "I told- him just what I knew you would say, and set his mind at rest about that, and I told him to trouble his mind not in the least about Dinah, that she should be taken good care of--' God bless you, missus,' he said, ' now I am ready any time the Lord pleases.' After a short pause, Mrs. Sterling proceeded: ' I said a few words more and bade him good afternoon, and told him I would see him soon again. Then I had a few words with Dinah, and comforted her all I could; good "KE AND UNLIKE. , 93 creature, how she does seem to love us all! And then I went to see a woman who lives in thenext house. Dinah spoke to me about her, and said she felt so sorry for her; she seemed to be a broken'-hearted woman; she had no hus- band; she was sickly, and not fit to be off from her bed, and yet kept about trying to do what she could; she had two daughters who, Dinah said, were in some way a great trou- ble to their mother. As I was so near to lher, I thought I would go -in and see her, and Dinah went with me. She was in the cellar kitchen, although it seems her two daughters occupy rooms in the first floor, just. over her. I found her all alone, a poor, thin, pale, sorrowful looking creature. She was'lying down when I came inl; she apologized, by saying, ' that her side pained her a great deal, and when she couldn't stand, it any longer, she had to give up and lie down.' I asked her where her daughters were? as I saw she did not look able to do anything-her breathing was so short and she seemed so very feeble. "' Ah, madam,' said she, ' vou ask me a sorry question; my daughters are a grief of heart to me; they live under the same roof with' me, but they might better be afar away;' and then she burst into tears. It was some time before she could go on.; at last, she made out to tell me that they lived in the rooms over her; that they were gay and light-hearted; that they kept company with those that were far above them in society, that young men were constantly there who had better be otherwise employed. "I asked her what work they did for a living, and whether they did not attend upon her or do anything to aid her? " They might, indeed,' she said, ' be of much aid if they were so minded; and they had offered her some money, but,' said she, ' I would sooner die than touch it, and I have told them so; and because I have told them so and warned them of their ways, they have just left me to do as I. can; they never come near me now ; but oh, madam, I could not take their money when I felt sure it was the wages of. iniquity t ' I then told her not *to be disturbed about the means of subsistence; that I saw she was not able to work, and that, while she was so feeble, I would see to it that she should not suffer. "A-nd after talking a little further with her, and saying what I could to calm her spirits, I left her, requesting Dinah page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] " LIKE AND UNLIKE. , that when Dr. Batton called to see Peter, she would ask him, for me, to step in .and see the poor woman and try to do what he could for her, and then I stepped out to get into the gig. While James was helping nie in, I saw a young man very foppishy dressed come out of the house where the poor woman lived. He stood on the stoop a moment, talk- ing with one of the girls, who had come to the door with him. I merely gave a glance that way, but I perceived that James, after I was seated, fixed his eye very steadily upon the-young man, and even stopped to gaze at him after he came down and walked away. I felt a little curious, and when James took his seat beside me, I said to him: '"Do you know that gentleman?' "'No, mam, I do not know him, but I had an idea that I had seen him before, and I am pretty sure I have; yes, I remember now. He is a young man I met when I was on my way to New York. I am very sure he is-he looks very much like him.' "Did you have any conversation with him at that time,' I asked,' or what was it that has made such an impression on your mind?' "I had no conversation with him,' said Jamnes; 'but a young man with whom I was riding at the time, and who spoke to him as we passed, talked a little about him, and that made an impression on -my mind, I suppose, and made me recall his countenance; but what surprised me was to see him visiting or living, I don't know which, among such poor-looking people in New York, for the young man told me he was very rich, and that makes me think so strangely of it.' "I made no reply to James, as I did not wish to tell him what I feared; he has no consciousness of the evils which are so common here." Matilda now came up to her father and says: "Papa, is James so busy that he cannot be spared this evening, Cousin Mary is so anxious to have some music." "I cannot say why he does not come up; perhaps he thinks you have company and do not want him; send Junius down for him. I suppose he is making up for lost time this afternoon; he likes to get through with his day's work before he liaves the office; but let Junius step down and ask him up." Junius stayed so long that Mary grew quite impatient. "-I do believe," she said, "that they have got talking TKE, AND UN LIKE. 95 together and Junius never knows when to stop if he once gets a going." However, the young gentlemen arrived at last, and seemed to -be in a very good humor with each; other; the fact was, James had just finished his labors and was about to come up, but, as Mary said, Junius had got to talking and being equally well pleased with each other, they never before having had an opportunity to do more than give a passing salutation, the time flew by without their being aware of it. Very soon, however, after they came into the room, Matilda stepped up to James and asked him in her pleasantest man- ner: " Will you not favor us with a little music ?" James was taken by surprise. He looked really distressed, and turned his eyes imploringly, and almost with a look of alarm toward Mrs, Sterling. She immediately came to his aid. "' I can assure you, James, I have not broken my word to you. The secret has by no means come from me, and it was divulged by another party thoughtlessly,'or at least without any idea that you would be tried. Mr. Sterling knows all about it, and is pleased to learn the fact; he loves music him- self very much." " That I do," said he; " and I can tell you, Master James, I had much rather know that you can handle the piano than that you were expert at checkers or backgammon. It is a better way for a young man to spend an odd hour, than in doing many other things. Come, sir, let us hear you." Thus assured, James, although very reluctant, made no further opposition, nor did he make any apologies; but turn- ing.to Mrs. Sterling, asked her what she preferred. " I can tell you better when I have heard them; for to say the truth, I very seldom hear more than a bar or two of any tune. Matilda, you know, is only beginning." James smiled, but went immediately at the work, and very soon, not only Junius and the girls were around him, but Mr. Sterling himself soon left his seat and took his place in the circle, apparently delighted, and very much astonished at the ease and rapidity with which his hands moved and the music rolled off. Cousin Mary was completely absorbed. She had forgotten all about how she should appear in the same- place, and, in- deed, could not now, for any amount of coaxing, have been induced to exhibit her skill. The labors of that afternoon page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] i96 ILIKE AND UNLIKE. must go for nothing. It was hardly fair, however, for a young lady, pretty, as she certainly was, to, look with so steady a gaze at one who was in such a new position, and performing a piece of work that required strict attention. The glow which animates his face certainly shows that he is quite engaged-it is a wonder that he did not make more blunders. "Thank you, James; I really thank you for the treat you have given us," said Mrs. Sterling as he rose, after playing two or three tunes. "And to show you, sir, too, how much I prize your obedi- ence to Mrs. Sterling's request, although somewhat disagree, able to you under the circumstances," said Mr. Sterling, put- ting his hand kindly on his shoulder, " to-morrow you may take the rest of my books in charge. So, you see, I do not think the less of your abilities below stairs, because you are so able to make yourself agreeable iri the parlor." "Oh, thank you, sir!"The words came from James with such earnestness as clearly manifested what extreme pleasure Mr. Sterling's announcement had given-nothing that James could have thought of in anticipation would have surpassed this. It had been for some time the height of his ambitious aims-all praise for his music was perfectly indifferent to him in-comparison with the fact that he- was to be intrusted with such an important position. He really felt as if he was now fairly treading on terra firma, and need fear nothing. It is to be hoped that Miss Mary will not attribute the great change in his manner toward herself, and the pleasant way in which he addresses her, and the evident freedom from that stiffness which had hitherto marked his behavior, to any influence her fascinations have obtained--she cannot be sure-that they are the cause. He is at present in such a happy fiame of mind that everything and everybody are agreeable to him. It was, indeed, after this, a very pleasant evening for the young folks, and it passed off much faster than any of them realized. The sound of the clock in the' hall first attracted their attention -to that matter. "Nine o'clock," said Junius. "It cannot be!" said Mary. His watch was presented to the young lady, and, sure enough, the hour had arrived for breaking up their happy circle. "Oh, dear! Matilda, Matilda! do come and walk' home. / "KE AND UN-LIKE 97 with me. It is such a beautiful evening, the moon is so bright. Do come, you must." " Do," said Junius, but too ready to further such a delight- full. idea. " Mamma, what do you say ? Cousin Mary proposes that I should accompany her home." " To stay all night, my dear ?" " Oh, no, mamma-only for a walk." " It is such a beautiful evening, aunty; do say yes." "But that will be taxing Master James, to accompany her and see her safe home again." Junius was about to speak, but his better sense interposed, and James readily answered, " It will be no tax, Mrs. Sterling, but a great pleasure." "' Well, just as you please, then, Matilda." There was not much difficulty in arranging the order of procession. Junius hastened to offer his arm to Matilda, and of course James had no alternative but to make the like offer to Miss Mary; she certainly had no hesitation in taking it- not, indeed, in a bold and forward manner; she seemed rather to be a little confused, and if James did not notice a slight tremor as the delicate burden rested confidingly on him, it was because he was so taken up with the beautiful moonlight, or with his own thoughts about other things. He need not, however, think it was a very light matter that lie is thlus^ favored. Many a youth of his age was ready enough to embrace such a privilege. Miss Mary Roff was a belle for her age, and a general favorite with the young gal- lants. Nor is it very likely that he at all undervalued his present position; he certainly was very affable, was very careful to give her the best of the pavement, to pick out the driest crossing, and in all things was as -attentive as the young lady could desire. They both seemed very happy. Nor, if we should judge by the lively converse between the two cousins, was there any want of happiness there either. Blessed spring time of life ! how fresh thy opening beau- ties! how full of hope and fond anticipation are thy new, green leaves and swelling buds! what rich promise of lovely flowers and luscious fruits hang out on every bough and bush and tiny plant! The firuits Wand flowers, should they unfold in promised beauty and richness, will never afford such pecu- liar happiness as the fond imagination impart'ed to them under the influence of the balmy air and the quickening page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98 LIKE AND UNLIKE. freshness of the early spring.. Ah, those young pulses that beat so quickly and give such life to the whole frame I No unhallowed thoughts spring from them--the eye meets the eye, and the catching smile illuminates each face, and -no blush mounts to the cheek, for no selfish art is playing be- neath-no sinister aim riles the pellucid fount. All is open, fresh, pure, and true. There are, doubtless, richer feasts for the heart when maturity gives strength to its deep pulsa- tions, but who can forget, that has ever tasted of their sweets, the seasons of youthful communings beneath the shadows of deep green woods--or when the falling leaves are-rustling to the little foot that keeps step with yours-or seated on the rock that overhangs the clear running brook-- or even amid the din of the great city, with the moon hang- ing her full orb above you and throwing her mild beams on the artless face that turns so readily to yours. They have reached the dwelling on Broadway, and the "good nights " are said. The door is opened, and the sound of lively music is distinctly heard. James and Matilda de- scend the steps. A- hack has just driven up, anrid James, as he glances his eye at the gentleman who alights, almost starts, for he has recognized again the young man whom he had that afternoon seen emerge from the mean-looking two- story house next door to Aunt Dinah's. He merely looks back to notice whether he could possibly be about to enter the stately dwelling of Mr. Roff, and is just in time to see the light from the opened door fall full upon him as he went in. CHAPTER V. THE interview which Junius Roff had enjoyed with young Beaufort, as recorded in the previous chapter, was followed \ very soon by others of much longer continuance. Junius had taken quite a fancy to this young companion, and as he had his time at command, frequently called in to have a chat. Matilda and her Cousin Mary were now away. They had gone to commence a career of study and discipline at the boarding school of the Misses W --, at Troy, so that there "KE AND UNLIKE. 99 was nothing especially to call Junius to the house of his uncle but his desire to see James. The young men were not alike either in personal appearance, or in the structure of their mind. Junius was, no doubt, good-looking, and per- haps, in the judgment of some young ladies, better looking than James. He had a fine fresh color, his features were regular, the aspect of his countenance good-natured, ever ready with a smile or a hearty laugh, easy in his manners, not at all abashed by company, and with a ready flow of lan- guage. James Beaufort was rather pale of complexion, with some- thing of a sallow cast-this, however, soon gave place to a fresher tinge when engaged in conversation, or under the least excitement. His features were rather of a manly than pretty cast, and their expression generally sedate-some might almost say stern. His eye was dark and brilliant, andu when excited seemed literally to sparkle with emotion. He did not smile readily, but when his countenance was thus illumined, the change was very marked and the aspect most winning. The mind of Junius, so far as hitherto developed, was of the light order; trifles pleased him and seemed to engross his attention-he was not fond of reading, except for amuse- ment, nor did his thoughts ever seem to dwell on any of the weightier matters of life. But he had been as yet only a petted boy. The mind of James Beaufort naturally inclined to serious subjects. It was no task for him to keep his attention- to the work before him. His reading had been for some time, and was still, confined to such subjects as have a tendency to enlarge the understanding and sharpen the intellect-and perhaps this may account for that sedateness of manner which seemed to have left him out of the rank of boys and placed him among those who had already attained man- hood, and were battling with the stern realities of life. No doubt, also, the circumstances in which he had been placed had a tendency to that effect; for, young as he was, care had already pressed with a heavy hand upon his heart. James might not have been a favorite at an evening party, although his manners were those of one who had been used to good society. But with most persons of good judgment and warm sympathies, he would have been noticed as a very at- tractive youth-one whom they would like to think well of,- one whom they should like to get acquainted with--into page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 LIKE AND UNLIKE. whose inner feelings they should like to entelr, and whom they imagined they could love warmly. Thus constituted, it may appear strange that these youth should have taken pleasure in each other's society, and yet at every interview they seemed to become more and more attached.- Some qualities in common they both had, or Deemed to have-generous impulses, and an open, unsuspicious na- ture, above duplicity. It was not possible, however, for two persons of their age to be thus intimate without in some measure assimilating; one or the other would gain an ascendant influence, and we well know that the power is not always with the strongest or sternest mind. James had made a profession of religion, and was no doubt well established for one of his years; but he was not free to communicate his feelings on religious sub- jects, not even to Mrs. Sterling, with whom he enjoyed almost the intimacy of a son. From some things which he witnessed at his first becoming a Christian, he had received an unfavorable impression in regard to what some call "re- lating their experience," which had made him distrustful of all such publicity, and he had chosen rather to feel and act than be forward-in exposing his own peculiar views. He had adopted the idea which he thought the Scriptures held out, that the life of the good man should be itself the power which was to be seen and felt in the world-that if he lived up to the precepts of the Gospel, his life would be a city set on a hill which could not be hid-a light which would throw its rays around his path wherever he trod, more potent to con- vince unbelievers of the reality of religion than any amount of fine talk and obtrusive interference. He knew also, for he not only studied the Scriptures but kept a close scrutiny of his Qwn heart, that a great deal of the work he had to do was within, in regulating his own affections and contending against the corruption and waywardness and unholy propen- sities of his nature. He had learned from the Scriptures that the Christian's armor was almost exclusively defensive, and it appeared to him very plain that his greatest care and activity must be in guarding against attacks from a powerful and insidious enemy. At least, he felt this to be his great work at present; he was too young and inexperienced to make offensive war. He did not, ,therefore,.although he believed Junius to be thoroughly thoughtless on the subject of religion, feel it his duty to say anything to him personally on that matter. In "KE AND UN-LIKE. 101 fact, it was a topic which rarely introduced itself at their interviews. But, although James almost studiously avoided conversation on such topics, yet Junius was aware that the books which James had around him in his room, and some of which he was engaged in studying, were of a religious cha- racter-although almost entirely such as were designed to elucidate the Scriptures. No doubt he often wondered at his taste; and yet he found James a most agreeable companion -fiee, social, kind, ready to enter heartily with him into his relation of all the little scenes which he, Junius, had wit- nessed among the "fellows," as he styled many of his associates. Junius, although apparently thoughtless on the more im- portant matters, was, like most persons, whether young or old, at times troubled with certain serious thoughts; they would obtrude themselves, and most generally when he was with James or thinking about him-an influence which Ju- nius could not help feeling was constantly doing a silent work; the character of James was gaining more and more his respect, his confidence, and even his love, and in like measure his own deficiencies appeared to himself more obvious. Months had rolled on in the meanwhile; the fall of the year had come, and the long evenings, and the usual evening exercises in the church and the world had begun to occupy the attention of the different classes. James had generally attended a meeting which was called the Church Meeting, and was held every Thursday evening. Junius knew of this engagement, and was careful never to call that evening or to invite James to go abroad with him; he did not attend the meeting himself for the reason that it was supposed to be de- signed solely for members of the church, and no doubt for the stronger reason that, he had no taste for such services, and yet'there were times when he was almost tempted to ask James if he might not go. with him. One evening, the latter part of October, as they were about to separate, Junius asked: "What do you say to going to Scudder's Museum to- morrow evening?" "To-morrow evening! Well, any other evening I should delight to go with you. To-morrow evening I have an en-. gagement." "What, Saturday evening!" " Yes; to-morrow evening I have an engagement I cannot well neglect." page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "Is it a meeting?"And perceiving the color suffused the face of his friend, he immediately added: "Pardon me, I was too hasty; my question was rather an impertinent one; I spoke without thinking." "No apology, I assure you, is needed. , I have no objec- tion to mention the matter to you. Yes; I am to attend a meeting in the upper part of the city." "' Would you have any objection to my going with you?" James hesitated; it would indeed be a severe trial; but he dared not deny such a request. "I fear you may not enjoy such a meeting, otherwise I should be most happy to have your company. I must tell you candidly, it is a meeting which I hold at the particular request of a good old colored woman, and most of those who attend are of her complexion. I should not have ventured upon such an undertaking except for the fact that those I meet with are much more ignorant than I am." "I do not wish to intrude,'and if my presence will be an annoyance to you, I would not by any means go; but yet I should be glad to go with you." "Then you shall, by all means," said James, as he took the hand which was extended for the purpose of bidding good-night, giving it a much warmer pressure than usual. "But it will oblige me if you will say not a word to anv one about it. Your aunt may know of it, but no one else." It was old Dinah who had persuaded James to hold a meeting at her humble dwelling. She had become quite inti- mate with him from the fact that he often called in of an evening to get her aid in some little mending which he did not care to trouble Aunt Grizzle with, and the old woman loved to-talk with him on a subject which was near her heart. Dinah loved to talk about her Saviour. She never cared to enter upon the harder points of Christian faith; she seemed to let all else go but just the simple fact that "Christ came into the world to save sinners." She felt that nothing else was so comforting to her; that was plain- that was clear to her as the noonday sun. She knew that, as a poor, weak, helpless sinner-she, with all other sinners, had been invited to embrace that glorious hope; she had embraced it, and she clung to it with a-strong faith. Dinah had friends of her own color who also had fled for refuge to the same deliverer, and she had other friends whom she most heartily wished could be persuaded to try the remedy she had found so effectual; and when she noticed how readily James could refer to the "KE AND UNLIKE. 103 Scriptures when talking with her about the great salvation, she wanted to have all her friends by, that they might hear him too. And so she made the request, " that he would let her ask a few of her acquaintance, just to come together and let him-read a chapter and talk a little as he did to her, and make a prayer with them." If he had been an older person or a minister, she might not have felt at liberty to ask such a favor; but with him she ventured to be free. James was troubled much by the request, and yet he dared not say no; it was a call to do something for his Master in a very humble way; it would be a trial, but he could not well refuse. So he allowed her to ask her friends, and at first but three or four were present; then a few more the next time; and the number increased until, at the fourth meeting, Aunt Dinah's little room was as fiull as it could conveniently be. There were young and old, all blacks, except on one occasion when James saw two or three white women come in and take their seats. They were indeed pitiable looking objects, miserably dressed, and with careworn, haggard, countenances, just such perhaps as the Master had in his eye when he said: " Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Junius was punctual at the appointed time, and together they went'to the meeting. The room was full, and every eye was fixed on Junius, as one who was to take a part in the exercises. Aunt Dinah knew him, and her face was lighted up with joy, and she placed a chair for him by the side of James, behind the little table on which the lights were stand- ing, and where the Bible and hymn-book lay. " She had no doubt that he had come to take a part." James, however, went on as usual to conduct the simple exercises alone; and when the meeting had closed, he stepped to a distant part of the room, to Hay a few words to some who lingered, apparently, for that object, among them being one of the Nwretched-looking, white women whom he noticed had been present for the second time. While busy in this work of love, Aunt Dinah ventured to give her hand to Junius. He readily took it. ( Oh, Master Junius, how my heart is full of joy to see you here! Oh, it is such a blessed thing to see the young who love the Saviour-rich or poor, no matter, He is precious alike to all. But why did you not help that dear young-man ? You needn't, you know, mind us; we're all poor, ignorant creatures !" But as Junius did not reply, and as Aunt Dinah page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 104 LIKE AND UNLIKE. saw that he seemed much confused, and under some strong emotion-perhaps was only a new convert, and felt backward to express his feelings-she continued: "But it ain't no mat- ter; by and by you will have your mouth open. I know when the love of God is once in the heart, it can't be shut up, it must come out; but it makes my heart .so glad to think that you have chose the right way!" When James and Junius left the room, and walked on their way homeward, not a word was said by either in refe- rence to the meeting. James said nothing, for his heart mis- gave him that Junius was not favorably impressed, and the silence of the latter confirmed his fears. Junius said nothing, for reasons of his own, which he could not just then have told to any human being. What few remarks were made by either, had reference merely to some casual matter that attracted particular attention as they walked down the lighted thoroughfare of Broadway. * At the corner of Wall street, they shook hands to say good- night. "I wonder," said Junius, "what ever put it into your head to set up that meeting?" "It was not my own starting, I assure you, Junius. Aunt Dinah requested it as a particular favor to her; I could not well refuse the good old woman; I know I am not compe- tent for any such work, but as they are all illiterate, ignorant people, and as they seem to like to attend the meeting, I have been encouraged to keep it up." "I hope you will keep it up. Oh, James, I wish I was as good as you are!" "Hush--hush, Junius--please do not speak so; you cannot think how it pains me. If you knew what a corrupt heart I have, and how far I am from goodness, you would not speak SO? "I may go with you next time, may I not?" 'Oh, certainly, if you wish to; but I tell you, candidly, Junius, I know but little, I am poorly qualified for any such duties, and my only fear is, you may get an unfavorable im- pression of religious services. I should be extremely sorry to be the cause for any such impression." "I have never once thought, James, anything about the manner of the performance; my mind has been absorbed with other things. Some other time I should like to talk with you, and tell you how' I feel. At present my mind is all in confusion. But you must let me go there again with you." "KE AND UNLIKE. 105 "Certainly, if you wish to." It was but a few days after that, Mrs. Sterling having now quite recovered her health, called in about the middle of the forenoon to sit a few moments with her Sister Roff. Of -late the intercourse of these two ladies had been more fiequent, and on the part of Mrs. Roff quite a change had taken place in her manner toward the former. Several causes had com- bined to make this change, but the most efficient one, no doubt, was, that both Junius and Mary had become so fond of their Aunt Sterling, and were so intimate there-a circum- stance which Mrs. Roff, as well as her husband, were by no means displeased with. Mrs. Roff was in her .parlor, and quite a little circle of ladies around her,' when Mrs. Sterling was introduced. The ladies all knew her, and there was a general expression of delight as she entered, some pressing her hand very cordially, and others manifesting their pleasure in a more affectionate manner. "Sister Caroline," said Mrs. Roff, "s who has sent you here just at such an opportune moment? We were just speaking about you, and two of our good sisters here, Mrs. Allweather and Mrs. Bustle,- were debating whether they should call upon you this afternoon or to-morrow morning." "You see," exclaimed Mrs. Bustle-a little woman, whose eyes of deep black were sparkling with impatience to let out the burning thoughts that were working in her breast. She was rather a good-looking personage, this Mrs. Bustle, quite a smooth-skinned, round, plump-faced body, with a quick movement of person and tongue. "You see, Mrs. Sterling, we are all in a state of confusion about this young proteg of ours. It has just been ascertained that he holds very errone- ous opinions on some of our most important, most fundamen- tal doctrines. He has turned out to be a Hopkinsian! Only to think of it!" "And here we have been"-Mrs. Bustle was here inter- rupted by Mrs. Allweather, who sat beside her. Mrs. All- weather did not look, as her name might denote, as though all sorts of weather were the same to her, for she had rather a sickly cast to her countenance--" spending our strength, emptying our purses, wasting our time, I may say, too, in running round soliciting aid, meeting together and sewing our fingers sore-all for the support of one who holds such terrible doctrines; and I, for one, shall do it no more, and I don't think you will, Mrs. Bustle." 5* page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 LITKE AND UNLIKE. "Not I, indeed," said Mrs. Bustle, shaking her head, and snapping her eyes together so that one could almost hear them crackle--"Not I, indeed! No Hopkiniansism for me!" "It is not yet ascertained, I believe," said Mrs. Russell, who was one of the company, "Sister Sterling, that he has positively adopted that heresy; but he is intimate with Dr. S----, who, you know, sides with that party; and he spoke highly, the other day, of Dr. C , who is a rank Hopkins- ian; and did he not tell you himself, Sister Sterne, thathehad adopted those views?" Sister Sterne, being thus appealed to, fixed herself a little more erect upon her seat, laid her hands, with the fan which she held, very complacently in her lap, and in a moderate measure and tone of voice, proceeded to reply: "I have had my suspicions aroused for some time in refe- rence to this matter; for I often noticed that many of the sentiments which this person expressed, had a tendency that way. I, you know, have been brought up in the good old way-it is the right way, I am very sure; at any rate, it is the way which both my father and my grandfather taught- they both insisted much on the good old strong doctrines- some, I know, object to these doctrines because they are so strong, but to me they are all plain; just as plain as A B C. Any one who has ever learned the Catechism, and repeated it as often as I have done, knows that; and no one can deceive me about such matters. The way I take, when I have my doubts about what any one believes, is to put it to them in the very words of the Catechism. I put the ques- tion right-plain to them, and if they go to alter it in the least, or to explain the words away, of course I know then where they are. When we leave the straight, plain text, we are lost-all at loose ends. So, having my doubts about young Blauvelt, I asked him plainly, one day, if he had learned the Catechism, and how he liked its explanation of man's free will, and the doctrine of God's decrees. "He says to me: ' Mrs. Sterne, these are very difficult points. I have not yet examined the Scriptures sufficiently to make up my mind as to what I ought to believe on these subjects.'- "What an answer that was! Not made up his mind, whken the doctrines are so plainly expressed! "' You believe the Catechism?' I said. "'Oh yes,' he said; 'I believe in the main it is pretty correct; but from what little I have examined of these doc- Mu' , "KE AND UNLIKE. 107 trines in the Bible, I am disposed to think that if they had been worded somewhat differently, they would convey more truly the meaning of the Scripture.' "' By that you mean, then,' I said, C that the Catechism is in error? "4 No,' he said, ' I do not say it is in error--only I have not yet examined the Catechism sufficiently to know whetheri;, it conveys the true Bible meaning!' The true Bible mean- ing! there you have it, you see, ladies, in his very words." "And now," resumed Mrs. Bustle,- " it remains for us to say'what is to be done. Shall we expend our energies in maintaining a heretic?" "That is what I say," responded Mrs. Allweather. "And I, too," said Mrs. Sterne. "That is the question," said Mrs. Roff. The ladies, to be sure, did not wait for each to express her opinion as here recorded, but all spoke at once, and all looked at Mrs. Sterling, as though awaiting her reply, and anxious to have her-sympathy in this dilemma. And as Mrs. Sterling did not reply immediately, and perhaps did not intend to reply at all, not considering herself called upon to meddle in such a delicate matter, Mrs. Bustle thought it best to put in a word. "You have given liberally, Sister Sterling, to this cause, and have a right to express your opinion-'certainly you have as much right as any of us. Now candidly, do you think it best for us to waste our energies in supporting a young man who is like in the end to come out against the very doctrines we hold so sacred?" Thus urged, Mrs. Sterling ventured to say: "I regret very much there should be any misunderstand- ing on such a matter. I have always heard you ladies speak in very warm terms of the young man, as possessed of ardent piety."- "Oh, we don't doubt his piety," said Mrs. Bustle; " but what is piety if it is to be mingled with false doctrine?5" i' But there ale many excellent divines who give a little different meaning to some of these abstruse doctrines, or rather, explain them differently. I believe our own minister is not so strenuous on-these points as some are." "Very true-you are right there, Mrs. Sterling; that he is not, and I can tell you people are getting dissatisfied with him." - "I am very sorry to hear that," said Mrs. Sterling; ,h- - page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 108 TMTITZ AND UNLIKE. is an excellent man, a most faithful pastor, and a very instruc- tive preacher." "Yes, but all that will not make up for being slack in doctrine. I don't want to say all I know, but I heard a lead- ing man the other day say, there would have to be a change before long." "I should be sorry, indeed, to lose our minister; but it would probably be worse for us than for him. A man with his abilities and known piety would not long be without a call. But it seems to me it might be a very serious matter for this young man you are speaking of, to be deserted justin the midst of his studies-he has no other means of support?" "Not that we know of," said -Mrs. Sterne. "So far, we have borne the burden; he is now about ready to enter a theological seminary, and now is our time to say that we will do no more." "I of course, you know, ladies, have no responsibility in this case. I remember cautioning my sister here at the time the project of supporting a young man was talked about. I feared there might be trouble in raising the money every year, or that he might not prove all that you hoped for. But now, having been so long under your charge, and having thrown himself, at your own request, upon your care, it would be a hard thing to withdraw your patronage. Would it not be a cruel act, even dishonorable?" There was no reply to these remarks, but the ladies looked at each other with such an expression of surprise and wounded pride as only ladies can throw into their countenances. Mrs. Sterling did not notice, however, the effect of her remarks, for she was looking fixedly at her sister, Mrs. Roff, whom she was more particularly addressing. As no one seemed dis- posed to say anything further, and thinking, perhaps, that a different view was beginning to be had by the ladies, she continued: "It seems to me, in this case, the -young man has acted rather a wise part; those points upon which he is supposed to be erroneous, we all know are abstruse, and even dark to many old and enlightened .Christians. He, it seems, has not made up his mind in reference to them; he has not yet thoroughly examined them. And as he is to be a teacher of religion, it is highly necessary that he should not come to a decision until he has had time to examine for himself, and also had the advantage of those eminent teachers who'are at "KE AND UNLIKE. 109 the head of our theological school. It raises him, in my esti- mation, that he does not, under these circumstances, express a decided opinion. And I trust we all feel too much sympathy for a young person who is thus dependent, and made so by the act of your society, to turn away firom him and withdraw your aid at the present juncture. As I said before, it does not seem to me to be honorable--it seems like an unchristian act." "I Mrs. Roff," said Mrs.. Bustle, rising from her seat, fol- lowed by the three other ladies, "I have been the first directress of this society; as you are the secretary, I announce to you my resignation." '"And my name also I wish to be withdrawn," said Mrs. Allweather.- I am very sorry to take such a step, but I decline having any further to do in the matter." "As second directress, I also resign. Mrs. Roff, my con- science is clear in 'having done my duty; but error is fear- fully creeping into the church; I cannot have a hand in help- ing it." And thus saying, Mrs. Sterne, took the lead, and politely bowing to the company, walked from the room, followed by Mrs. Bustle and Mrs. Allweather. Mrs. Roff of course followed her guests into the hall, and was for some time engaged with them in quite a spirited'conversation, the purport of it could only be guessed at by the two ladies in the parlor, who, confounded by this sudden movement, sat in silence awaiting the return of their hostess. "'Well," said Mrs. Roff, as she entered the room, "we have got into a pretty muss now, what shall be done?" "You cannot think, sister," said Mrs. Sterling, ," that these ladies will withhold their subscription, although they have resigned. their stations as officers; it would be a most unrighteous act." ' You do not know them, Sister Sterling; they are most determined women." "But they are Christian women I hope; and it seems to me simple justice would demand of them a different course." "Well they are, you knowi very orthodox in their views; they believe strongly in the old doctrines, and of course they-feel it their duty to set their faces against all inno- vations." "' We are all, I believe, orthodox-that is, we receive the Confession of Faith of our church as the true exponent of the doctrines which the Bible teaches; but after all, the Bible is page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] "O LIKE AND ULITKE. the true standard, and it may be that to some these very doctrines which are compiled into our formula, may appear slightly different as they are brought to view in the Scriptures from the naked dogma as it stands in the Catechism. But aside from this, it seems to me a very hasty conclusion to arrive at, that upon no more evidence of heterodoxy than this young man has given, they should throw off the responsi- bility they had voluntarily assumed, and leave-their friends to bear the burden. You, surely, Sister Roff, and you, Julia, do not mean to follow their example?" "Why, you see, Sister Caroline, it pl-aces us, at least it does -me, in a very delicate position. I find it difficult, as it now is, to collect what I have agreed to pay-it is a severe tax, and now, if all the rest withdraw, what are we to do?" "I know what I must do," said Mrs. Russell. "I must withdraw my name. Russell is bitter against the whole thing, and won't help me to a cent beyond my allowance, and you allow, Sister Roff, how hard I have found it to get along and pay what I have agreed to. All I have is five hundred dollars a year, and you both know how'far that will go in the way of dress as fashions now are. And where will be the use of our continuing to do anything, if all the rest back out?" "And they all will, you may depend upon that. Mrs. Bustle has gone this very moment to call on the otiler mem- bers, and no doubt she will induce them to do as she has done, and she will no doubt go also to the young man, and let him know that he must not any longer look to this society for aid." Mrs. Sterling said no more, for she was sorely confounded. The whole matter was such a glaring departure from Christian morality, as she never before had come in contact with in polite life, and she knew not how to reconcile the profession of love to Christ and obedience to his precepts with such a manifest want of forbearance, patience, meekness and justice! What greater amount of prejudice, self-will and pride of opinion could have been looked for in persons who made no pretensions to religion. And she could not but say to herself: "Is it so'that after all Grace has no power to bring the heart into a spirit of obedience!"And a dark cloud came suddenly across her mind-it filled her with dis- may. Hope was ready to expire. Religion, after all, may be but a farce! If the power of the Holy Spirit is no longer witnessed, what have we left to prove that Jesus has "TKE AND UNLIKE. "I ascended on high, and is at the right hand of the Father? Under this unhappy state of mind she arose, and was about to depart. "Dear sister, don't go yet; I want to talk with you about a plan I have been making, which I think is going to accom- plish a good end. I have been thinking that there is a great want of Christian communion and fellowship among our people, and that something must be done to get us together. Come, sit down, and I will tell you." Mrs. Sterling sat down, but with no heart to listen to any plan of that sort. Her whole mind was in a confused and unhappy condition. "I have been talking the matter over, and we have hit upon the very thing. It will combine -a pleasant social scene and a religious entertainment. You know we are social be- ings; we cannot thrive alone. Christians, as well as others, need society; and we need recreation, we must have it, and we have thought of this: Suppose we invite, say, a select number. We cannot invite all, you know, and an indiscrimi- nate circle would only be embarrassing all around; but we can select a goodly number, so as to form a pleasant com- pany. Then, let there be a moderate entertainment, genteel, nothing more; aud at the close of the evening have a prayer. Now this would be simple. It would give us an opportunity for firee converse together; it would make us better ac- quainted; it would give us an opportunity to form plans for doing good, and all that. Now, don't you think it an ex- cellent arrangement?" Thus appealed to, Mrs. Sterling must say something. '"It might be, no doubt." I knew you would think so. Well, we shall begin it at once; and I have concluded to have the first meeting here, and it is to be on Wednesday of next week. Now, you will, of course, join in this?-I know you, will." "I cannot promise you that, sister. I do not, you know, very much fancy large companies, and James would not feel like attending." "Well, no matter for that; we will see you home, you know. Julia does not expect that Russell would come either." "Not -he." said Mrs. Russell. "4 Catch him at any such meeting. The prayer would frighten him." "But I have made it a point of duty never to go to any party of pleasure without my husband," said Mrs. Sterling. page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] "2 TTKF AND UNLITE. "Yes, and that is the way you have spoiled him. You give up too much to him. I must say it, if he is my brother." "Oh, I do not think so, sister.- It is my duty, is it not, to consult his wishes? I know it is my pleasure to do so. He would, no doubt, if I should-insist upon coming, come with me; but, when I know it would be disagreeable to him, how could I have the heart to do it? And I certainly could not unite in any such plan without opening my house in turn, and that, I am certain, would not accord with his views and feelings. James, you know, has a very kind, social disposi- tion, but he enjoys a few friends at a time. Neither he nor I feel quite at ease in a large or mixed company." "But this will not be a mixed company. They will all be Christians, and all of our own standing in society." "No doubt it will be very pleastiant; but you must not epend upon e in this matter. You must excuse meh. sister." Mrs. Rof felt that it always hould be of no avail to urge any f your brother and, after a fe more at plan which was now uppermost in her mind, Mrs. Sterling was permitted to take her -leave. I don't knowsometimes what to make of Sister Sterinthe She does not seem to be a happy Christian. She keeps at home too much." "And yet Russell is always holding her up to me as an example. You know he and your brother are great cronies, and Russell goes there a great deal. He told cIe the other day-justso provoking he is-that he believed if anything would make him a Christian it would be having such a wife as Sterling had. And he says he never knew such an alteration in any man as there has been in Sterling since he first knew him. Russell says he has more religion in him than half the Christians, and that it is all owing to his wife." "Yes, no doubt Caroline is a good creature, but she is too retiring, too shut up in little matters at home. She is not quite open enough. What I mean is, not openly known in the Christian world. We are commanded to let our light shine. Now, how can the world see our light if we do not go into it? It is a great thing, Julia, to be decided-to let the world see that we are not ashamed of our religion. Some say, to be sure, 'What do ye more than others?' and even twit us of having fine furniture, and fine clothes, and a fine - . . , "TKTR AND UNLIKE. 113 house; and I know they say we would do anything that the world does if we were not ashamed. But the world will talk; they will find fault with Christians any how. For my part, I don't mind what they say. They found fault with Christ himself, and no wonder they should find fault with his disciples." " Oh dear, how good it is to hear you talk! I get strength every time I am with you. Sometimes, I must confess, when Russell brings up these things, and says I don't govern my temper, and I am too fond of show, and parade, and all that, I get quite discouraged, and begin to think perhaps I am wrong. But you clear up matters so that I can see the truth. Sure enough, how can our light shine in the world if we do not mingle in it? and how can we mingle in the world if we do not in some of these non-essentials conform to it ? We must dress as people in our- circumstances dress; we must furnish our houses as others do, and, for our fami- lies' sake, we must have company. How can we avoid it ?" ' Speaking of Caroline; was you not surprised to hear her come out so decided before Mrs. Bustle, and say it was cruel ?-unrighteous ! That hurt the good soul, I know it did." " Well, I must say, I feel bad when I think it all over. It is hard to cast off the young man so all at once; but I don't see how we can help it. -You and I cannot bear the burden; and if the rest will not help, what else can we do but just let things take their course. But who will tell him ? I should not have the heart to do it, and I know you could not." " Oh, Bustle will do all that. She has a strong mind. She will go to him, I have no doubt. She says she will, this very day. Bustle is one of your go-ahead persons. She fears no one, and had as lief tell our minister, right to his face, when he says anything in the pulpit she does not like, as not. She is a superior woman. Her light will be seen; I will war- rant that it will never be put under a bushel." " Oh, well, I must go. But one thing more; what do you think of the new order of things in the Sabbath school ?" " I do not fancy it, but it will not do to say much. Some think it will work well. They thinl-there will be a division after a while; and as we have no poor people, or rather any of the lower class, in our congregation, we, at any rate, shall not be troubled; and as our servants are all pretty much Irish or Methodists, they will, of course, go to their own page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] "4 LIKE AND UNLIKE. schools. But one thing troubles me; tlose of us who are teachers have to study the lessons, and they are not all of them so easy. And another thing, it sets the children ask- ilg questions-you know children are handy enough at that any time, but now they want to know what this mreans, and that means, and it puzzles me to answer them. Sometimes I send them to their father, and he is not much better ac- quainted with Scripture than I am." "That is just what troubles me. My little Emma bothers me to death. And Russell, when she goes to him, sends her to me, and tells her I know the Scripturles by heart. The fact is I never knew before what an ignoramus I am. I dread to have the child come to me with her book. Oh, dear me, what poor creatures we are!" ' Oh, well, we do the best we can.. This teaching will be a cross, but we must take it up. There is one thing though I have forgot to tell you. Iy Junius has, I do believe, be- come a Christian!" "You don't say so!- ow you are blest! That is be- cause you are so faithful.:" "Oil, I can't say how that is. I try to do, but it is little we can do at the best. I have not spoken with him yet. I believe he goes to his Aunt Sterling's; he is there a great deal. But he is very much changed. I hope he will be a minister." "You are blest indeed! Well, I must go. I hope we shall have a good time next Wednesday. I don't know what Russell will say when he finds I have invited them to our house. He will go off somewhele,- I know he will, and swear dreadfully when it's all over; but I can't help it." CHAPTER VI. MRS. STERLING left the house of her sister Roff with a dark cloud upon her mind. Her faith in the power of Di- vine Grace had been sadly shaken. Not that she really doubted the sacred truths of the religion she professed; her heart was wedded to them, and she would have even then suffered death itself rather than denied one of them. But "KE AND UNLIKE. 115 there are mysteries in our belief which can only be received by faith in Him who has made the revelation to us; and as no sensible tokens of the power of the God we worship are vouchsafed to us now, as in the days of Prophets and Apos- tles, our faith requires either the consciousness of inward grace, the special working of the Spirit on our own hearts, or the clear manifestation of that grace in others. The day of miracles is past, no doubt; why, we cannot say, unless it be that the Church has lost that faith in her covenant head which might have retained her pristine power. But that this evidence that Christ is at the right hand of the Father, and has all power committed to his hands, is no more hers, is a serious and humbling truth. One great fact alone remains as a witness for Him liere below--His grace vouchsafed as a trit zrnphing power over inward corruption, and bringing its subjects into true, and hearty, and complete obedience to all His precepts. Let this be wanting, and naught remains as an assurance that the work of Redemption is carrying on but the simple declaration of historic record. The inward witness is doubtless to the Christian at times, and perhaps most constantly, a powerful testimony, and it would be as easy to deprive him of the consciousness that he was a living, thinking being, as to take from him the sense of an operation upon his mind by an invisible agent, produc- ing therein holy affections, implicit confidence, and ardent love. But there are times when-the sensible presence is not realized; the spirit of obedience is not lost, nor has love decreased, but an uncertainty steals over the objects of faith -troublesome doubts creep in-mists cloud the mind-its own experience does not satisfy. Then it is that the more visible power of Grace is needed-the mind longs fjr and stretches forth its feelers to grasp something beyond itself- it wants a palpable token that the promise is sure, and that the Holy Spirit is a power and is in the Church. And where can the mind turn in its longing for substantial evidence but to the members of the living body? And with what joy does it fix its gaze upon some true, steady, firm believer, whose life is a living testimony to the great change; whose humble, holy walk-whose pure, unfading love-whose stern denial of the worldly appetites and passions, and whose sure likeness to the image of the Master, attests the truth, that Grrace has power, and that the promise which the-Saviour left as his people's legacy is a certain inheritance-a palpable fact. 'Alas! did each one who bears the Christian name page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] "6 LIKE AND UNLIKE. daily put on the Lord Jesus Christ and' go forth in all the glory of that beauteous array,-shedding the mild beams of unobtrusive holiness- around his path, be it but some lonely byway, or amid the throng of the busy world, or high up within the shining circle of the great, how different would be the estimate the outer world would have of the great salva- tion! This may not be hoped for; but yet, let each remem- ber that as he mingles with his fellow-men, whether in the world or in the Church, he may be a power of vast moment; he may-not only win an unbeliever to the truth, but he may quicken into lively exercise the faith of some true fi'iend of the Saviour, who is suffering amid the mists that cloud his' vision. Mrs. Sterling was-never self-confident; she was too prone to look at the dark side of her own character; her virtues seemed hidden from her view and every failing was magnified into a heinous fault. With such a disposition, she was prone to doubts of her own estate, and at her brightest moments could not realize to its full extent the work which grace had accomplished and was accomplishing for her. No wonder, then, if she were in a peculiar degree dependent upon exter- nal evidence as a confirmation to her faith. Had she that morning been in company with poor old Dinah and listened to her simple story of what the Saviour had done for her soul, and witnessed the manifestation of her simple trust and ardent love, her mind could have sympathized in the exhibi- tion, and sweet peace would have spread over it, and she would have gone home refreshed and strengthened. But the strange inconsistencies she had witnessed in those who had a high reputation as active, zealous Christians had thrown gloom and doubt about her path, and her spirits drooped and were sad. Duty, however, and a strong sympathy with the sorrowful had not lost their hold upon her. She felt that a great injus- tice was about to be done to an unoffending youth, and- as she had given a liberal share of what had been contributed for his maintenance, although refusing to become responsible as a member of the society, she felt that in some measure she was implicated in the present state of things, and resolved that she would see him herself and ascertain not only his views and feelings, but also his true- condition as to temporal support, and she would do this at once. The young man in question was a native of New Jersey. He had been apprenticed to a large farmer and manufacturer "KE AND UNLIKE. 117 in the vicinity of Elizabeth Town, but had been released from the two years of his servitude which still remained for the purpose of allowing him to follow a strong inclination which had possessed his mind, to study, with a view of preaching, the Gospel. His intellect was bright, his desire for know- ledge ardent, and his piety deep and fervent. He was poor, and all his friends were poor and utterly unable to render him assistance. No organized society existed at that day for the support of those who wished to enter the ministry and needed aid. A lady whose heart was devoted to the cause of her Master, but whose pecuniary means were very limited, proposed the matter of taking up this youth and carrying him through his preparatory course to some of the members of the church whom she knew were more or less- active in good things. The idea met with a warm reception, and a certain number of ladies agreed each to give, or to be respon- sible for, a certain amount, in all making a sum sufficient to provide for very plain board and some other contingent ex- penses. When the proposition was first made to the youth, it did not meet his full assent, his own plan being to engage in the business which he had learned, and by a continuance of manual labor and by studying at the same time, maintain his independence and get into his profession by his own exer- tions. Naturally of a. resolute and determined will, as well as possessed of no small amount of commendable pride, he shrank from throwing himself upon the charity of any; but advisers, much older than himself, took a different view of the matter, and overruled his better judgment. He accepted the proposition accordingly, and had been now two years under the care of these ladies. Two years of sedentary life and of close application to study had made a vast difference in his physical power; he was no longer the rugged youth, he had become delicate in frame, pale in complexion, weak and debilitated in muscular power, and somewhat affected ill,health. He could study, and he could walk, and he could speak in a public assembly; but he was utterly unable to have done an hour's work at the employment he once followed. A consciousness of this fact had for some time been a cause of anxiety to him, for he had noticed what he thought to be a change of feeling on the part of those ladies who were the official actors in the society, and liis pride had been on one or two occasions sorely, and he thought unnecessarily, wounded. Bat there he was. He could no longer, he knew, page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] "8 LIKE AND UNLIKE. earn his subsistence as he once could. He had yielded his independence at the suggestion of others, and as he believed, with the motive of doing a good work for the cause of Christ, and now he must submit to whatever mere trial of feeling he might be subjected to. But he could not yield up his independence of thought, what he really believed he held with great tenacity; of what he thought might be true, but which he had not yet fully considered nor fixed as an article of faith, he would not express an opinion; no fear of man or woman could induce him to hide his true conviction or drive him a hair's breadth from the line of duty. In this respect he was not to be molded by any set of circumstances. He had strong feelings, keen sensibility, a warm heart. He could love most ardently, and he could be most cruelly pained by a cold look or an unkind remark. On many accounts he was a very unfit person to be dependent on the bounty of any one. The "Triangle," that theological bomb which made such havoc in the Church, especially in the city of New York, had just been published, and the minds of men who were for any reason interested in those doctrines upon which it touched were aroused to a pitch of zeal that for a time swept the spirit of love away as a bird borne off before the mighty hurricane. Original Sin, the limited Atonement, and man's Inability, with the opposite doctrines, were the themes which absorbed all others, and in the contest seemed likewise to be absorbed all that was beautiful and lovely in the Christian faith. Under such a state of things, it did not surprise this youth that he should be questioned more or less respecting his views, and being on his guard, was careful only to commit himself on such points as were settled in his own mild., He had reason to believe, however, that this was not satisfactory; he regretted it, but could not alter his coulse. That any serious consequence should follow he did not anticipate; all that troubled him was the idea of being so situated as to be subject to the critical surveilance of his religious belief by those whom he did not respect as competent judges. But the true state of the case was about to be made known to him, and in a manner as unexpected as the result waas most confounding. ilMrs. Bustle had made up her mind to act, and when Mrs. Bustle had resolved upon any course of conduct, no conside- rations of delicacy offered any obstruction. After leaving the "KE AND UNLIKE. 119 house of Mrs. Roff, she, in company with Mrs. Sterne, lost no time in calling upon the few ladies who, besides those she had parted from, composed the society. -Mrs. Bustle had a ready tongue, and in consequence of that, and her position in the church, Mr. Bustle being an elder, and moreover a man of property, she had quite a commanding influence. That her account of things was strictly according to truth, Mrs. Bus- tle's imagination, we must believe, led her to suppose. Her story, however, under the exciting influence of the present feeling had its desired effect, and every name but one, and that a truly conscientious person, but with small ability in pecuniary matters, was withdrawn, and Mrs. Bustle went home to her dinner quite satisfied with her morning's work. But the business was not yet finished; he upon whom the blow must fall ought not to be kept in suspense. There was mercy in that thought no doubt, and justice too-two glorious attributes were now ready to urge her on and sustain her in the discharge of her remaining duty. Her friend Mrs. Sterne kept by her, dined with her, and together they entered the humble mansion in Grand street, where the doomed youth had his lodgings. They found him at his studies in a small room, plain as need be, but very clean and every article in place. Somewhat sur- prised, but by no means alarmed, the young man cordially greeted them and gave them seats. Mrs. Bustle was more nervous than she had any idea she could be; even with Mercy and Jeustice and irs. Sterne to back her, she felt absolutely a misgiving at heart when she looked at the pale, placid, serious countenance of her victim. And the longer she sat and heard his pleasant tones of voice and looked into his open, fearless face, the worse she felt. So the sooner her business was entered upon, the sooner it would be over, and the better she would feel. "I am sorry to say that we have come upon a very unplea- sant business thisafternoon, Mr. Blauvelt; but duty to you as well as to ourselves and the ladies we represent, demands a plain statement of facts. You must be aware that many of our good people are much alarmed at the present condi- tion of things in the Church. Strange, or rather what we consider improper, doctrines, are being broached, and we fear are gaining ground.' This you are aware of; and moreover, you must have felt that those of us who have been support- ing you have for some time been made uneasy by the fact that you are so intimate with some of our ministers who favor page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 TICKF AND UNLIKE. these peculiar views. And'also you must be conscious that you have yourself given us reason to believe that you do not hold, in, their str ictness, some of our essential doctrines." "I am not aware, madam, of that fact." "Well, perhaps you do not think them essential. We do. It is not worth while going over the ground, as you, no doubt, are perfectly aware of the particular doctrines to which I allude." "I am, no doubt, madam." "And you still retain the views you have so frequently of late unfolded to us as your sentiments?" 1"I am still, madam, of the opinion which I have expressed when questioned by any of the ladies." "Well, that is enough. As I have said, this, among other facts, has created great dissatisfaction among those who have contributed to your support. And to be plain with you, as in duty bound to be, I must tell you, painful as it is to me, that I fear you must not depend upon aid from this source any longer." The young man made a slight obeisance, but said nothing. There were a few moments of profound silence. "You understand the matter, then?" C I believe I do, madam." As the ladies rose to depart, the young man likewise stood up. "I believe you have received your last quarter's payment, which will end in two weeks from this day; but here are ten dollars, which this lady and myself contributed from our own purse; it will help you a little until you are able to look elsewhere." And Mrs. Bustle, putting on as mild an aspect as her coun- tenance would bear, held out the bill for his acceptance; but his hands remained in their place. ' Thank you, madam, for your kind intentions; but I must beg you to excuse my acceptance of your bounty." "You had better take it; it will be some help to you, and perhaps" "I must'beg you to excuse me, madam. I thank you for your intended kindness." The firm features, the fixed and unmoved posture, and the decided tone of voice in which he spoke, convincedl the lady that her offering would in no way be accepted. It was a mortification she did not anticipate-and a disappointment, too; for no doubt she would have felt much relieved by the "KEI AND UNLIKE. 121 thought that she had made quite an atonement for all the wrong she had done, if, indeed, she had done any.. Her money was returned to her purse, and the two ladies left the --room with feelings which no one need envy. They have departed and the door is closed, and in silence the young man now takes his chair, and ponders on this strange, this sudden shock to his career. It is a cruel blow to all his hopes, and the -way he is walking is suddenly enveloped in an impenetrable mist. He can but bow submissively and wait-what next he knows not-it is all dark-his thoughts can find no way beyond the thick mist. But, perhaps, hard as this first lesson in the life work he has marked out for himself may be, it is no doubt useful. He must learn that many Christains have but an imperfect view of what their great work is. To be in all things like their Master does not seem to be the uppermost object of en- deavor. They rather feel that they are to be workers in a rough field--that they have a great deal to do in clearing away rubbish, and must go at it with a strong hand. They are thinking to make a mighty change by their strenuous efforts-opposition nmust be borne down by resolute will and steady blows. As the men of this world work, so must they; and as the men of this world succeed, by dilligence and hard pushing, so they expect to succeed in building up the beautiful kingdomrn of Christ-no matter how hard and uncouth the language, so as it is the truth that is proclaimed -no matter what pain may be inflicted on a sensitive spirit, so as it is done in the way of duty. Is a pastor of a flock, enfeebled in health, too weak to accomplish all they think he ought to accomplish? He must be set adrift to provide for himself as he may, the Church must not suffer for the sake of one nan! Ias he become old in the service of his flock, and deficient in the sprightliness and energy which once marked his character? He must be plainly told that age has come upon him, and that time has rendered him unfit for duty, and no matter if it is hard to tear himself from those he has so long loved and served--the Church must not suffer for an old man, no not even should his heart break! Yes, young man, this is but your first lesson-it is hard, no doubt; but it may be better you should, at the beginning of your course, be thus forewarned. As he sat and pondered, he heard some one approaching his room. And he knew by the heavy step upon the stairs 6 page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 LIKE AND UNLIKE. that the visitor must be one of his own sex. A good stout knock at-the door further assured him of this. At once the door was opened, and a portly gentleman, neatly dressed, and with a very pleasant countenance, stood before him. ' Am I right, sir? Is this the room of Mr. Blauvelt?" "It is, sir; my name is Btauvelt. Will you please walk in, sir, and take a seat?" "I will, with pleasure, for it is quite a walk from my house. My name is Sterling,-I don't know that you ever heard of me before. But I have come on an errand for my wife, per- haps her name is familiar to you?" "I do not know, sir, that the name has been mentioned to me before this. If so, I have forgotten the circum- stance." "Like as not. But she has belonged to the circle of ladies associated for the support of a young man for the ministry, and I presume you are the young gentleman." "I have been hitherto, sir, supported by such an associa- tion, but have been within the last hour informed that I must not look to them any longer for aid." "You don't say! Have they been here already?" "Two of the chief officers have been here not an hour since." "Their names?" "Mrs. Bustle and Mrs. Sterne.!" "Bustle, ah! What a busybody she is! I wonder if she is ever at home, or if the old man's shirts ever lose any but- tons? If they do I guess he has to sew them on himself. Ain't she a creature, though! And she has told you the whole story, then?" "She has plainly told me, sir, that I must look to my own resources for means after this." Mr. Sterling's countenance now assumed its more sober business aspect. "I hope, sir, you will not think I am meddling with what does not concern'me. My wife has been a contributor to the fund which these ladies have raised, but most likely has not allowed them to feel that she -is responsible with them. She likes to do good in a quiet way. She accidentally heard to-day, however, that these ladies-for what she considers a very insufficient cause-had concluded to throw up the whole matter, and she has been troubled about it-and I agree v't*h her in thinking they have acted without due considera- tion of the dilemma in which you may be placed. As I "KE AND UNLIKE, 123 understand matters, you were induced by the offer made you by these ladies, to relinquish the mechanical pursuit in which you had been engaged, and, relying on their aid for two years past, confined yourself, and that closely, too, to study. Is this so?" "You have stated the case correctly, sir." a I should judge, then, from the fact of the great change you have in consequence made in yur habits of life, and also from your present appearance, that you are totally unfit to resume your old employment." "I must say, sir, I fear I could not do it. It would take a long time before I could recover the physical strength I should need. But it might possibly be done." "I doubt it very much. And then it seems to me a pity that the two best years of your life should be, in a measure, thrown away. And now, to, come at my business at once, let me ask you what sum will be needed to carry you along- yearly, I mean?" "My wants, sir, will be few. I am nearly through with my preparatory studies-in two months I shall enter the Princeton Seminary. I shall have a room free of cost. I shall board myself. I have been making a rough estimate, and believe I can sustain myself on thirty dollars a year. Clothing, beyond what I; now have, I shall not need for a year, or perhaps two years." "I don't quite understand you. You do not mean to say that thirty dollars will provide you with food?" "It will, sir. I think I have made a correct calculation, and have no doubt I can live on that sum." "Thirty dollars a year! it won't find you in bread and cheese!" "It will not find me in luxuries, sir; but I am very sure I should prefer the plainest food to a state of dependence." Mr. Sterling was silent a moment-he could hardly think the young man was in earnest; and yet his staid and deter- mined look gave no sign of jesting. "Can it be that you are in earnest, and intend to limit -yourself to such a diet." "I am in earnest, sir; and my only doubt about the mat- ter is where the thirty dollars are to come from. Perhaps I may be able to borrow the sum until I complete my course. "Well, well; I honor your resolution, but I am very happy to be able to inform you that my good wife has comrn page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 LTKF AND UNLIKE. missioned me to let you know that you can depend upon her for one hundred dollars a year, and more if wanted." "I cannot take it, sir." The young man spoke in haste, perhaps almost too much so* It struck him at once that he was wrong. "You will pardon me, sir; I have been most cruelly tried within this last hour, You cannot tell, sir, what it is to be dependent, and thus bitterly made to feel it." "I do realize your feeling, my young friend. I do not wonder that you want to eat your own bread, if it was the hardest and blackest crust that ever an Indian crunched. But let me tell you this is no charity that is offered to you. My wife has her own pin money that she disposes of as she pleases; I never ask her what she does with it; but in this case she has come to me, as she thought I, as a man, could talk with you more freely, and you could talk with me. Your reception of this money will lay you under no obliga- tion to any human being-it is given entirely for the sacred cause of the Gospel ministry. She does not know you per- sonally-you do not know her; nor will any human being but us three, ever know a syllable about it. And if it will suit you any better to receive it as a loan, to be refunded when you are able, so let it be." "You are very kind, sir. I am poor, very poor; I am not well able to work with my hands, as previously. I am anxi- ous to go through my course; if one half the amount you have named can be loaned to me until I complete my course, I will take it and feel under great obligations." "You shall have it, and that right off;" and taking out his pocket-book, and handing the fifty dollars, " it is not often, my young friend, I pay over money with the pleasure and satisfaction I do this. I only wish, for my wife's sake, you would take the whole amount she has sent; She will feel bad, I know, to. think how you contemplate living." "Will you present my most sincere thanks to her, and say -just what you know best to say to her. I am satisfied, sir, that you have feelings that can realize how much sweeter will be the coarsest fare received from the hand of friendship, than the most delicate Viands doled out as charity even at the hands of professed Christians. I receive this as a loan from a friend." "So be it; and I tell you further I want you to visit us- there is my card; come at any time. I think my wife will be better pleased, when she comes to know you, that you "KE AND UNLIKE. 125 have placed this matter on such a footing-I think you and she will yet be very good friends." Mr. Sterling had much to think of on his walk home. He was glad that he had become personally acquainted with this young man--a vast amount of prejudice had been taken from his mind. He had formed an erroneous opinion of the youth. He had fancied a person of weak mind, who was but too ready to receive bounty, and be dependent upon charity, and had rather stoop to receive alms than labor for his own sup- port. He was undeceived. He knew from the very looks of the youth there was that in him which would raise him above such littleness. He felt convinced that he was in ear- nest in the work before him, and was ready to make any sacrifice of present comfort to attain his desired end-and that end was no ambitious, worldly aim! No wealth was to be gained by it-no idle sinecure was to be the station he was pressing to obtain! A higher, nobler, purer principle must be the ruling motive. To do good-to preach the Gos- pel, had power enough to enable one just starting in life, and in a country. where wealth and honor were within the reach of such a resolute, determined spirit, to put them from his view, and go through self-denial and want with one steady purpose: " that he might win his fellows from the paths of error, and lead them to truth and virtue." Mr. Sterling had also learned a new lesson, and his discerning, just mind will not lose the benefit. CHAPTER -VII. JOHN RUSSELL was not a swearing man, as those might sup- pose who had frequently heard Mrs. Russell speak of the man- ner in which he abused what she called her religious engage- ments. He was, indeed, somewhat excitable, as most per- sons are who have a warm heart, and it is not improbable that he had, on certain occasions, inadvertently dropped some expressions not quite so proper in a lady's presence; but it must have been under strong provocation, for no one who was in habits of daily intercourse with him, but would have testified to his freedom from such vulgarity. He was not, page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 T,YKFT AND UNLIKE. indeed, a religious man, in the common acceptation of that term, although he certainly had a respect for religion, for he was very regular in his attendance on public worship, and particular in the observance of proper attention and decorum in the house of prayer. Evening meetings, in general, he did not fancy, although, at times, he had waited upon his wife to such a service, but he preferred to be at home. Largely en- gaged in business that required his strict attention through the day, he loved the evening recreation with his wife and little children, or in the company of those whose society was agreeable, and with whom he could unbend. John Russell and Julia Lefferts had now been married ten years, and the connection being one that had come of what they thought, and others believed to be, a strong attachment, and their circumstances being very easy, there seemed no bar to a full amount of conjugal happiness. Three children had been given to them in the course of these years, the youngest of whom was now five years of age. They lived in good style; their house in Barclay street was furnished somewhat more expensively than Mr. Russell could have wished, but he had allowed his wife to suit her own taste, and that was per- haps rather gay than chaste. But although fond of plain things himself, he in a little while accommodated his feelings to the display which his large rooms exhibited, and thought no more of it. They were neither of them, when married, members of the Church, and it was nearly eight years they had lived together before any change in this respect took place. At that time Mrs. Russell became seriously impressed, and united with the church. No opposition was made by her husband to this step; but, on the contrary, it was rather a subject of gratu- lation with him, for he felt that now the little ones would have the wholesome care of a pious mother, that surest safe- guard against the evil that is in the world. Until this period they had lived happily; not, indeed, entirely exempt from those little passing clouds which will, for a moment, slightly obscure the sunbeams in the brightest day, but no permanenrt shadow rested upon them. Love's golden chain still bound them in its sweet embrace, and hal- lowed every other blessing which a kind Providence had so bountifully allotted to them. A change, however, has for the two years past been gradu- ally taking place. That union of heart which seemed to be so perfect, has begun to manifest a sad decay. They do not "KE AN UNLIKE. 127 see things through the same medium; they do not harmonize in the same views; jarrings and contentions about matters of trifling moment are not uncommon; they do not sit plea- santly together, as once they did, and talk about the past- the days of love's first power. Nor do they talk together of what concerns them now--their pleasant home, their child- ren's welfare, their common duty, or their future prospects. They seem no longer two in one, but separated as by an icy barrier; each heart has shut up its warm sympathies in its own inclosure, and they live together as sojourners at the same inn, rather than as the united head of a beautiful house- hold. That Mrs. Russell had really met with a true change, there seemed to be, from the recital of her experience at the time, no reason to doubt. But, unhappily for her and for him, she was thrown into the society of two or three Christian friends whose views of Christian duty appeared to be drawn I ather from the teachings of men than from the plain injunctions of Scripture. Christianity is in' its nature a social principle. When the mind becomes imbued with the heavenly influence, the heart is stirred with kind emotions; it longs for sympathy, it delights in pouring out its own experience, and especially in listening to that of those who have been longer in the Christ- ian path, and have more to tell about the workings of Divmine grace. There are always in the Church some few leading minds to whom others may look up; and happy it is for any Christian community when such leaders are of the right stamp; such as have drunk largely at the fountain of Divine truth, and have clear and correct views of- what should be the constant aim of the followers of the Redeemer. Unhappily for many in the society to which Mrs. Russell was attached--especially for those of the weaker sex-the most prominent among its members were persons whose exhibition of religious character was rather that of activity than holiness of heart. Foremost in this set was lMrs. Bustle, who has already been introduced to the reader, and through her influence a system of machinery had been set up, which kept the females who followed her lead constantly employed. There were sewing societies, and assistant Bible and tract societies, and assistant widow societies, and mite societies, and juvenile assistant mite societies, and a variety of others, which not only kept the minds of the female members of the page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 * LIKE AND UN'lTKER.. Church occupied, but absorbed a large amount of their time. !: The evil, however, which these various engagements was ! working, and had already accomplished, was not confined to what in some cases many complained of-" the absorption of : time firom domestic duties"-a much greater evil was suf- fered in its effect upon Christian character. Activity was held up too prominently as the great test of true discipleship. The great work of cultivating holy affections and subduing ! the lusts and passions was thrown out of view, and far too I many members of the Church gave no other testimony to the power of religion than by their diligent attention to all the benevolent associations which had been started in their midst. Mrs. Russell had, unhappily for herself and family, become intimate with this clique. She had been visited by Mrs. Bustle and Mrs. Sterne, and had talked freely with Mrs. Roff, when first under serious impressions, and very naturally they became to her models of character. She was young and they in middle life; she was just beginning the race, they had -been long upon the course; and to follow them appeared to her not only safe but her duty. With servants at command to do her work, and an aged relative to keep a watch over her children, and money enough to meet the various subscriptions which these sooie- ties demanded, she really thought her duty was clear, and that she was at her legitimate calling when mingling day after day in the social gatherings, or doing some outdoor work which their object contemplated; and being of a lively, social turn, her feelings were gratified by the fiequent inter- course it enabled her to have with the different members.9 Her home, however, was suffering; her domestics did not perform their work satisfactorily, and there was constantly occasion for finding fault and changing help. Her children, indeed, were cared for by her aunt, but they were losing that ;f love and respect for her which was in the last degree desir- able, and beginning to exhibit the want of a mother's constant presence. But the greatest evil of all was, the effect of the course she was pursuing, upon the mind of her husband and upon the holy relation they bore to each other. It can easily be imagined. Confusion in domestic arrangements, a wife and mother missed from her place at the fire-side and the I nursery, a lonely house, were not circumstances calculated to satisfy a husband and father of the temperament of Mr. Russell. At first, gentle remonstrance was resorted to; and ' I w - 4!! TLTRR AND UNLIKE. . 129 then severe rebukes, and at last ridicule and condemnation of -the whole system of Christian engagements. All this Mrs. Russell resented, and consoled herself with the idea that she was suffering for righteousness' sake; and in this, she was encouraged by her unwise Christian associates. They said nothing to her of her duty as a Christian wife and mother; they did not hold up to her the beautiful precepts of the Gos- pel; they did not talk to her of meekness and gentleness and patience, of obedience, respect, and love; nor unfold to her the power she possessed by an exhibition of these graces, to win her husband to a love of the truth. Wider and wider grew the chasm which was separating this wedded pair; and darker grew the cloud that lowered over the present and the future. Home was no longer a desired retreat for the weary merchant; other resorts: were becoming more agreeable; other houses seemed pleasanter to him; and even places of amusement, which he had long neg- lected to visit, afforded now a relief that was in itself a dan- gerous symptom. It was on the evening which had been set apart for the "Christian Sociable," as Mrs. Roff named it, that was to be held at her house. Mr. Russell had been detained at his store, and did not reach his home until after Mrs. Russell had left. She had said nothing of the matter to him, for she knew he would not attend, and had gone in company with a lady and gentleman of her acquaintance whom she had invited to call for her. Russell took his tea alone, and then went into his bed-room to prepare himself for a visit to the the- atre. He opened the drawer appropriated to an article he needed and saw, indeed, a full supply. His quick eye glanced over the one he had taken out, and lo! the button on the collar was wanting; of course, it was thrown aside. The next in order was taken up and seemed all right; but, to be certain, he cast a lbok at the wristhands, and there a button-hole had 'broken through, although the button was in its place; it was a small matter; a " stitch or two " wouldvhave fixed it, but the " stitch or two" had not been taken. That was also laid aside, and the next in order taken up and surveyed; ;the buttons were all right and the button-holes, too; but an unfortunate crease where a crease had no right to be, spoiled the collar, and he threw it down rather impatiently upon its condemned fellows. There was quite a pile yet, so the next was taken i it had, indeed, a susliciou; look as not being the 6* page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 130 LIKE AND UNLIKE. genuine article, but he took it up. Instead of a collar, was a pretty lace frill, incompassing a breadth that was never designed to be buttoned round a man's neck; sleeves, too, were wanting, and as it unfolded from his hand, the length condemned it as something never designed for his purpose; it had no business, he saw at once, upon his premises, and he dropped it on the unfortunate pile that was accumulating outside the drawer. The next in order was still less fitted for his purpose, for it had frills above and below, and all about, and cord and tassels, too, and he laid that aside. The next was in truth his own; it was all right-except! and, i quite in anger now, he was about to send it far off upon the floor as his eye fell upon a dark spot upon the bosom; the iron that smoothed it had left a smut behind. A moment he paused, speaking to himself in language not very proper nor to the purpose-it could not remove the smut--but his pas- sions were excited, and he felt that he had cause to be angry. He laid it down outside, closed the drawer, and in an unhappy state of mind, walked the room, to and fro, with a quick and angry stride he paced, his heart swelling with the troubled thoughts that came like angry waves fast and furious. He vented forth harsh words, killing words to a wife's heart, had she been present to listen to them. And then the fury of the storm began to subside. His anger died away, and the more healthful emotions of sorrow took its place. He felt that his dream of happiness had vanished!! I his life must be a dull and monotonous round of toil, with no bosom open to partake his joys or sorrows; no heart to pour its kindly, loving feelings into his. She whom he had once dearly loved had chosen a different outlet for her sympathies --seemed indifferent too, and independent of, his love. Could it be that true religion had thus wrought the change! And could it be a true religion that had weaned a wife frojm her duty and her home! And he was almost ready now and for- ever to renounce even the very form of it; to cast the Bible and the Church frotm his respect, and throw himself into the dark sea of unbelief. What was the Bible if its precepts had no greater power? What was the Church but a solemn farce, if its members were no better than the world, and many of them not so good! But a bright star twinkled to his view amidst the dark and gloomy clouds that were sweeping over him, and its light checked his wild conclusions, and he fixed his eye upon it. Yes, there was one whose lovely life did speak with convinc- liKE AND UN-LIE. 131 ing power to all who knew her steady, peaceful, consistent, Christian walk, it had a real power, a presence undisputed, a beauty that could be felt, shedding unconsciously its charm through the whole circle where she moved. Alas! why was it that his Julia, with the same belief and under the same. influence, should manifest so unlike a temper, should find her pleasure, and perhaps what she felt to be her duty, too, by walking in a path so divergent from that in which this lovely woman walked! Too unhappy now to care for the entertainment which he had designed to enjoy that evening, and longing for the sym- pathy of some friendly heart, he arose and walked out, bend- ing his course for the quiet home of his friend Sterling. He found the two at home, but Mr. Sterling about to leave for the purpose of meeting a gentleman from the South, who was putting up at the City Hotel. "I am so glad you have come in," said the lady, "as I should have been quite alone this evening." "HHow do -you think I do, alone every evening?" "Not so bad as that, I hope," said his friend Sterling; "but- you will not be in a hurry to-night; wait until I get back, and we will have a good chat together-that is, if my wife does not tire you with talking before I get home; but what makes you look so sober to-night?" "Sober! well, it is a pretty serious world; I find it so; a man need look sober; he can't help feeling sober; it is not every one, Sterling, that has such cause for a smiling counte- nance and a happy heart as you have." Mr. Sterling made no reply; the remark was not an unu- sual one for MSr. Russell to make, but never before had he made it with such an earnest and serious manner. Bidding them both good evening, he left the room. ' On one account I am glad Sterling has gone out, for I have been wishing to see you alone. I must have some one to tell my troubles to. My heart is almost desperate. Julia will drive me to distraction if she goes on as she has done. I cannot stand it. I cannot live so. My home is a desert to me, and everything in it is wrong and going to ruin." "I am very sorry to hear you speak so. I know some- times you joke about Julia's being out so much, and engaged in so many public duties,-but I could not suppose you were serious." "I know I have spoken lightly about it; it was the only way I could treat the matter without allowing myself to be -. page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 132 TTRJ AND UNLIKE. made unhappy; but I am in earnest now; things have come to a pass that is insufferable; in fact, I am a wretched man." Mrs. Sterling perceived that her friend was, as he said, in "earnest now," fobr his voice trembled as he uttered the- last sentence; he was evidently under deep excitement. "Julia is away this evening?" "She is, and that is not the worst of it; she might as well never be at home. I cannot-I do not wish to enter into particulars; it is no pleasure to me to speak of her faults, and to no human being but yourself or Sterling would I hilt of them even; but there is no mistress, no mother, no wife at my home." "I am sorry, most heartily sorry; I suppose I can account for it'all. Most unhappily, Julia has fallen among those who have peculiar views. She is young, easily persuaded. She is thoughtless. No doubt she supposes that her duty to the Church and the world demands so much of her timle. You must not lay the blame on her." "I do not wish to blame her. I do not wish to blame the Church, nor to charge my trouble to religion; but one thing is true, we were happier before she had anything to do with these matters." "I am glad to hear you say that you do not wish to charge against religion the delinquencies of its professors; we are all poor, weak, sinful creatures; religion is designed to aid us in overcoming our deficiencies, in rising above our weak- nesses and in making us wiser and better in the true sense. The trouble lies in our not yielding to its influence, and not walking strictly by its plain precepts. And no doubt some mistake what its more important precepts are; they take some injunctions which the Bible no doubt unfolds as our duty, but in their zeal to attend to these, overlook others that possibly may, after all, be the more important ones. This seems to me to be an- error, and I fear is the error into which Julia has fallen." Mr. Russell did not reply; he seemed to be calmed some- what, and sat with his head resting on one hand, while the other was turning a ball of yarn that lay on the table by which he was sitting; and in a few moments lMrs. Sterling continued: "This is a day in which a great many benevolent opera- tions have been started, and as we are all prone to run into extremes, it is not to be wondered at if the Church, having long been in a dormant state, and now apparently just awak- "KE AND UNLIK. - 133 ing to a sense of duty in regard to its obligations to the poor and the outcast, should do so, too. Some may, indeed, very justly fear that the machinery is too complicated, and that there is danger to vital piety; that Christians are diverted from their real duty by their numerous engagements, as we all know it is easier to be active than it is to be holy." "You may well say that," and Mr. Russell assumed an upright posture, and his eye brightened as he spoke; "' it is easier to be busy about other people's matters than culti- vating a right spirit, and going on steadily performing in quietness the duties which devolve upon us in the domestic relation. I firmly believe that, and I have no doubt more than half the fuss which is made by these societies amounts J to nothing except that it affords an opportunity for busy- bodies to meet together. Now, of what earthly use is this gathering this evening? Do you think yourself that getting such a multitude together with no other object, that I can learn, but to have a good time, and then a prayer at the end by way of sanctifying it; do you believe it is going to help one soul there to be a better Christian?" "I cannot say; I am sure I hope it may do good." ' Why are you not there, then '?" "You know that neither I nor my husband were ever fond of large companies; he, more especially, would not relish such a meeting; but we must not condemn those who do, especially those who are yet young. Perhaps you have not taken that into consideration in regard to Julia. She is yet, you must remember, in the hey-dey of life, only twenty- eight. She has a lively turn of mind, is very social in her feelings, and it cannot, therefore, be so much a matter of astonishment that she should be captivated by a pleasant engagement with those whom she knows. I fear that you may not have taken this sufficiently into consideration. You do not enjoy many meetings which are pleasant to her, and perhaps have declined accompanying her, and you may also have expressed in decided terms your disapprobation of them, and it may be--for the feelings of a true wife are very sensi- tive-you have set her off from you in this way, and made her feel that she must consult her own judgment. It is a great pity that there ever should be occasion for a difference in feeling between such dear friends, or for the utterance of their feelings in decided words.' Oh, it is so sad to have the beautiful chain of love soiled, or its links broken! Harsh words, though, have power to do that." page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] 134 LIKE AND UNLIKE. Mr. Russell covered his face, and for some time sat as though earnestly engaged in thought. At length he fixed his eye on the kind friend who was thus endeavoring to heal the sore which was festering at his heart. She saw that he was looking at her, but did not raise her eyes from her needle. "I fear I have been wrong, and Julia has been wrong, and between us, we have destroyed our happiness! Our love has been blighted; our confidence in each other lost! We shall both be miserable to the end of our days." "My dear John"--Mrs. Sterling sometimes used that familiar title, they were about the same age, and had been long on terms of great intimacy. She was looking at him then, and perceived by the glistening of his bright eye, that he was much excited. "Do not say so, do not feel so. Your - love to Julia is not lost, and I am very sure her love for you remains true; unfortunate circumstances may have caused a distance between you, but these may yet be removed. Miis- understandings can be rectified; have patience-mind what I say-deal gently with her--speak kindly-overlook some things-bear patiently with others; a woman's heart is won by gentleness-it cannot resist long, it cannot live long with- out a resting-place. Give her time to think, and be sure of what I tell you, all will be right yet-perhaps you will be ' happier than ever." "If I could only think so, how light my heart would be. But I will try to do as you say. I will be patient; I will avoid using hard expressions; but so long as she is under the influence of such persons as I can name, what change can be hoped for?" "The persons with whom Julia has become intimate, are not such, I am very sure, as she can always respect. They will not always influence her. She is not really like them; in time she will observe their deficiencies. She will yet come back to duty-only let her feel that she has still the heart of her husband to come to and to rest upon." "I will-I will--I will do just as you say." "And by no means let her know that you have thus exposed to another any difficulties that may have arisen between you; it is possible she may herself speak of them to me; if so, I shall know what to say to her." "I will not. I am so glad I came here this evening. I had made up my mind to go to the theatre, but I got out of humor at some careless management of Julia's or the servants, "KE A-ND UNLIKE. 135 and felt so sad, that I bad no heart for amusement, and so came here. I know you are right, and mean to try my best to follow your advice." Mr. Sterling now came in, and the remainder of the even- ing was spent quite pleasantly, and 1Mr. Russell's visit pro- longed much beyond the usual hour. Mrs. Russell came home at cquite an early hour. She was not as well satisfied with the entertainment of the evening as she had thought she would be. The whole matter seemed to be forced ; the conversation turned upon subjects of no great interest except one, and that was by no means agreeable to Mrs. Russell. She had become quite attached to her minister, and it was certainly a favorable omen that she loved so good a man and such a faithful pastor. But this evening, for the first time, she learned that many were dissatisfied. Mrs. Bustle was one of these, and she was very busy circulating among the different groups, expressing in plain terms her decided opinion. "He was -too lax on doctrinal points;" he was evidently not Calvinistic; and more than that, he was coming out with his New England views on the subject of baptism. And "it was said," so Mrs. Bustle said, that he was not willing to baptize the infants of such as were not members of the Church. "Things were coming to a pretty pass. We must stick to the good old ways of our fathers; we don't want innovation; we don't want any New England notions introduced among us, and Mr. Goodman will find that he cannot rule here." And Mrs. Russell found to her surprise that many, at least all that Mrs. Bustle thus talked With, seemed to coincide with that lady's views, and she felt sad; perhaps, too, the fact that she had not invited her husband to come with her, may have had its influence in sinking her spirits; and it may be, that she really did not feel well--at least that was the excuse she made, when she proposed to the lady with whom she had gone, " that they should leave." The lady and her husband were, however, quite willing to go with her; they had been disappointed too; and so they departed, even before the prayer was made. So large was the company, however, that their departure was not noticed. When Mrs. Russell returned home, and found her husband was away, she retired to her room; in a few moments she went into the nursery to see her aunt. The old lady was seated by her stand busily engaged in reading. "' Are the children asleep, Aunt Jane?" page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 136 TT,'R:C AND UNLIKE. "Oh yes, dear, they went to bed early, they felt so lone- some, as their father was gone too." C"Aunt Jane, will you please step into my room?" The spectacles were laid down, and the old lady followed her niece. "Do you know what this means? Who has been here and laid these clothes in this state? Here are some of my garments and Russell's lying all in a heap together; and the drawer is half empty, and all tumbled and in confu- sion." "I cannot say, my dear; you know I never come in here to see to things. Susan puts away the clothes in your room. I heard John come in here, and I heard him walking for some time up and down the room; it struck me he was troubled about something, but I supposed it might be he felt bad about your being out, and one time I thought I would just come and ask him if anything was the matter, but then I thought it might only trouble him the -more; but how these clothes came here, I cannot imagine, without it is that he has been changing his linen, and-but do look here! no wonder! here is a button off! and here is a great spot on the bosom; and this collar! how it looks! it is not fit to be seen! and you know he is so particular about his clothes, too. If you would only let me, Julia, I would see to his things." "4 No, aunt, I shall not allow that; it is Susan's business- she is paid for it. I shall send her off. Such miserable creatures as I have got about me!" l "Well, Julia, I tell you as I have often done before, ser- vants want a mistress-they want overseeing-they want to feel that some one notices their work. But, oh me!" "What is it now, Aunt Jane? What makes you sigh in that way?" "4 Oh well, Julia, it is for your sake and that of your bus- band I feel. How can things go on as they should in a family, when the mistress takes so little care, and is so much from home?" "But, Aunt Jane, you are here certainly, and you are experienced, and know how to do things better than I do." "But, my dear child, I have told you again and again, that it will not do for me to say a word or to direct. I should only get insulted if I should attempt it. Serva'nts know that ,there is but one master and mistress in a family, and when others interfere, it only makes matters worse. But I am afraid, Julia, that John has come to this drawer, and not been "KE AND UNLIKE. 137 able to find a single thing that was fit to put on. I do wish it might be different." Mrs. Russell wished so too; but fearful to prolong the conversation with her aunt, lest she should bring up an old topic, by no means agreeable, she closed the drawer, and prepared to retire, and the old lady returned to her room. Very happy was Mrs. Russell, that her husband seemed by no means offended by her absence that evening. Not a word of reproach was given her, and when he left the house next morning for his store, although she thought he looked sad, yet he gave her no occasion to feel that he was displeased.- Susan, the servant whose delinquence Mrs. Russell severely reprimanded, gave her some very impertinent answers, and was accordingly dismissed; and in consequence, the hostess was compelled to go abroad in search of one to supply her place. She had no faith any longer-in intelligence offices, and therefore determined to make application among her friends; and knowing that Mrs. Sterling always had excellent help, she made her first call there. Mrs. Sterling received her friend in more than her usual kind manner. She had no idea for what purpose she had called, but rejoiced in the opportunity of giving her some friendly advice. It was not the habit of that-lady to be ob- trusive in such matters. She had good sense- enough to know that advice unasked for was seldom of much avail; but this was an extreme case. She had been thinking with much seriousness of her interview with Mr.; Russell the last evening, and she felt convinced that the fuiture happiness of this husband and wife was on the point of being utterly de- stroyed. It would certainly be if the latter did not change her course. She loved them as friends, and could not there- fore, without inward anguish, think of their separation; and she had such exalted views of the married state, that if she had not thus felt a personal interest in their happiness, or lad they been strangers to her, she could not have with- stood, when such an opportunity was offered her, but endea- vor to set things right. "I am all in trouble again about my help. Susan, my laun- dress, has become so impudent and careless that I hate had to dismiss her, and where to look I do not know.. Servants now-a-days are good for nothing. I don't see how it is you always have such good help. What would I give for such a person as your Gizzle. Do you know of any one, or does she know of any one, that could be got?" page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] 138 TTKR AND UNLIKE. "I believe, dear, it is very difficult to get the right sort of persons about one; but you know we are so much out of the habit of changing help, that really we should hardly know where to go in search of one if we should be so unfortunate as to be obliged to make a change. Have you applied at the intelligence office?" "I have not. I have applied there until I am tired of it. Those that we have had from there-and I have had three in the last two months-are absolutely good for nothing. They are mere eye-servants. I cannot leave anything to themn but what I must oversee." ' That you must expect, Julia. The eye of the mistress is quite as necessary as the hands of the servant." "That is what Aunt Jane tells me; but how can I be all the time at home, and looking after every little item. My time is taken up, you know, a good deal in our societies. Monday, you know, is our prayer-meeting; that takes about all the morning. Tuesday I have to visit with the commit- tee, to look after the widows, and Tuesday evening is the sewing society. Thursday we have our meeting of the mite society, and every other Thursday we have to meet and help the children to cut out their work and manage their little matters. Then, you know, Thursday evening is the church meeting; and now this new arrangement for Wed- nesday evening will, of course, if I attend it, be another en- gagelent to take me from home." "How did you enjoy your meeting last evening? You were at my sister's, -I suppose?" "Yes, I was there, but, I must say, I did not enjoy it much ; and, besides, I felt hurt at the- conversation I heard about Mr. Goodman. Do you believe it! there is such a talk about his not preaching the Calvinistic doctrines, and about his unwillingness to baptize the infants of those wlho are not professors, that I should not wonder if there should be trouble. Sure I am, if Mr. Goodman had heard what was said by some of his leading members last evening he would leave us; I know he would. I sometimes think }Mrs. Bustle makes herself too busy about such matters. I wish she would not. I know she means well, but she is headstrong, and speaks her mind so freely, and uses such strong language, that I should think she would offend oftener than she does." - "Mrs. Bustle, dear Julia, is very peculiar; and although it is not for us to judge her piety, yet I cannot but condemn "KE AND UNLIKE. 139 some things in her conduct; and, to be plain with you, I do not think her a safe person for you to copy." "Oh, I do not think I try to copy after Mrs. Bustle. I am sure I do not. I do not like her ways; but then she is so useful; she keeps everything going, she is so active, so efficient." "That is true, Julia, she is so; but it may not do for all young wives to do as she does. All husbands may not be like Mr. Bustle. You know they are not particular about matters at home. You would not wish your domestic ar- rangements to be in the condition which is so evident there." "No, I should not. Russell would not have it. He even finds fault as things now are, and I try to do my best, too." "' I know your husband is particular. He is so about his person, and I know he must be so about his house, for he no- tices little things here even." "But he always speaks of things here as being in such perfect order. ile provokes me sometimes, when he has been here, by talking about how orderly things are, and how perfectly neat. You know he thinks all the world of you. He thinks there is no one like you." "I am glad, indeed, to have his good opinion, but should be very sorry to know you should be thus made unhappy by his drawing an unfavorable contrast." "Oh, you know, it is not as if you and I were not so inti- mate. I know my things never look as yours do; and I "Dear Julia, I fear you are hurt now.- Pray, put away all unpleasant feelings. Do not allow anything to mar our friendship." ' I am not hurt, but I am very unhappy. Nothing seems to go right with me." Mrs. Sterling saw the fine countenance of Mrs. Russell manifesting much emotion, and the tears had started. "Will you let me, Julia, tell you what I think is the cause of your unhappiness?" You may tell me anything. I wish you would." "It is not pleasant to me, I assure you, to say that which may pain you; but I do love you, and I love your husband. He has a noble spirit." "Why, then, does he treat me so coldly? Why does he oppose me so? Why does he fmid fault? I can do nothing right." page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] "O LIKE AND UNLIKE. "Perhaps, Julia, if you will reflect a little you will be able to ascertain why this great change has come over your mar- ried life. Surely, for many years you were very happy." "Yes, I was, until I united with the Church. Since then I can truly say I have been persecuted." "'But think a moment. Your trouble could not have arisen from that fact. I know that John was highly pleased when he knew of your intention to do so. He told me him- self how happy he felt, and only wished he was in a proper frame of mind to join with you. He said to me, 'Now my children will have a mother to train them in ways of right- eousness. It is the way I wish them to be trained."' Mrs. Russell now covered her face and gave full vent to her excited feelings. Alas! how her heart condemned her! Little had she done as yet in that important part of her duty. "I think, Julia, the cause of difficulty, and the cause of your unhappiness, lies in the course you have fallen into, and which you may yet see is erroneous. You have, no doubt, thought it your duty to be active in every good work; to spend your time, and to spend your money, in works of be- nevolence. The latter is of little consequence, the first, though, to a young mother, is of the last importance. It is impossible to be engaged in such a round of duties, which calls you from home, and at the same time fill the station which is yours to fill-and which no one beside you can fill --in your own home. IMen have their cares in business. Their minds and their bodies get wearied. They come home to rest, to enjoy the society of those they love, and to us they look; in us their hearts- find repose. Our smiles cheer them, and to our management they look for all the comforts which home provides; and our duty it most certainly is to make their home agreeable-a place where they feel contented to remain. It would make you very-wretched, I know it would, should you find that your husband was obliged to resort to other places for that enjoyment he missed, because the wife he loved was so seldom at her place, and seemed to care so little for his company. Last evening,' but for some trifle that turned his mind, he was going to the theatre." "Going to the theatre!" and Mrs. Russell looked up in alarm. "Yes, it is true; and would you not regret most heartily if, by any dereliction from duty on your part, he should become hardened against religion, and, perhaps" , r "KE AND UNLIKE. 141 ("Oh, Mrs. Sterling! my dear Mrs. Sterling, tell me what to do! Tell me where I am wrong! do help me to do right! I want to do right!" ' Dear Julia, the way is simple. It may, indeed, be a trial to you to break away from the circle you have got into, but I would do it. Then take your Bible, and make that your guide in all things. You cannot err if you follow that. Many of those with whom you are intimate, you must be aware, are trying, I fear, to serve the world and Christ at the same time. It cannot be done. No Christian can be happy who does so. You have a world of happiness before you in the pure love of your husband; in being all and all to him; in trying, by your consistent walk, to win him to the truth. He never can be led to it in any other'way. He can only be convinced by noting the effect of the truth upon those whom he intimately knows. You can do that for him which no other human being can; and if your life does not show him that religion has power to subdue wrong feelings, and to shed the true light-the light of peace, and purity, and meekness, and faithfulness, and love-I fear, most truly, he will never be won to embrace it. A world of happiness is before you in your children; to be their teacher, their ex- ample, their confidant, and to have their heart love. Oh, what a treasure, and what a rich reward!" I believe you are right-I know you are right. Oh, that it could be so! but I fear-ah, I fear John has lost his con- fidence, his love already! I fear it is too late!" "I assure you not-I .know him well; only let him see that, after this, you are his Julia again-that you are satisfied in his society, and with the duties which home demands. I assure you there will be a spring given to his happiness that will make your own heart leap for joy." The two were seated near together, so near, that for some time Mrs. Sterling had been holding the hand of her friend upon her lap, but now, as she says this, the latter puts one arm around her neck, gives her an affectionate embrace, and leans her head against her breast. "And I shall have your love, too! Oh, you will help me, you will advise, and warn, and lead me, will you not?" "I will do all, dear Julia, that a loving friend can do; but depend upon it, you will find little need besides our precious guide the Bible for any counsel-only follow that." "I will try to--I am resolved I will." page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] "2 LIKE AND UNLIKE. '"As to a girl, I will talk to Grizzle, and perhaps she may think of some one we can send ,you.') "Oh, thank you. No wonder my husband thinks so much of you. I shall tell him yet, I hope, all you have said to me, that is, if he will ever let me tell him anything in confidence again." "Don't you fear that, only be resolute and do your duty." Mrs. Russell had designed making some other calls that morning, but when she left the house of her friend Mrs. Ster- ling, such new views and feelings possessed her, that she had no heart to make them, and retraced her steps to her own home. Her first business was to see that things were in a right condition about her house, and then she retired to her room to meditate upon the past, and try to find out' her present duty. It was, however, no easy task upon which she had now entered. It was no light matter to overcome the pride of her heart, and in all humility confess to her husband that she had been wrong. This could easily have been done when their love was yet uninjured, and no real separation of heart had made such a distance between them. This distance had now become a reality. So many unkind and cutting remarks had been made on both sides, so long had both he and she acted without consultation, and each pursued that way which seemed right in their own eyes, that when she came seriously to reflect upon the means of recalling the con- dition of former days, the chasm seemed a "fixed gulf," and the way of return hopeless. "Would he be willing to forget the past? Would not her advances be met with coldness and disdain, perhaps with ridicule and bitter taunting?" But happily for her, she at length took up her Bible, and the portion which she came to in course; for she had always continued to read that blessed book, although, strange to say, she seemed to forget, while going over its pages, that its plain precepts had any particular reference to her. So true it is that the path of duty may be persisted in by habit, and yet the mind not affected rightly, or have but little sympathy with the details of duty. Now as she read the epistle of James, the place which her mark pointed out as her regular reading, a new and strange light poured upon the sacred text--it seemed penned for her--its directions seemed exactly suite-l to her case, and when she came to the passage, "Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another," she paused and pondered. "Was not that her first duty? She had been wrong-must she not acknowledge it? She was , *. "KE AND UNLIKE. 143 bound by the law to her husband, and if she had neglected to perform the part of an obedient, faithful, loving wife, was it not her duty to confess her fault, and throw herself upon his charity? Might not such a step awaken in him the old love that had once glowed in his breast, and soften at once that asperity of manner which had been now so long but too manifest." "Pray one for another!"Alas, her conscience was not at rest on this point of duty. She had, indeed, not forgotten him in her petitions. But she had not kept in mind that upon God both he and she were dependent for happiness in each other, and that no true change could be looked for while this cold and unnatural state of feeling existed between them--the stumbling-blocks must be first taken out of the way. Her heart was resolute; every step she took was waking up the softer emotions; her feelings now yearned toward him who had been her first love. She wanted again to get into her place--to nestle beneath his care and affection-to be his companion, and to bask beneath the sunshine of his smile. That prayer was no formal duty, it was the outpouring of her woman's heart for the friend of her life, and for strength and wisdom to do her part. Her mind is made up; she arises happier than she had been for many long months. She knew how pleased he used to be to see her neatly dressed, and with much care she arrayed her person-not gaudily, for he never cared for costly array, nor for those attachments either to her or his home that were designed merely as show. And with a calm and peaceful mind, she awaited his return. She hears his ring at the door and his well known foot- step entering the house, and quickly she descends to their parlor. There seems a softer look upon his countenance as she enters the room. She hesitates not a moment-her eye is glistening with tears, and going straight to him, she throws her arms about his neck, and lays her face upon his breast. "My dear John, can you forgive me? can you forgive your erring wife?" Fondly he clasps his arms about her, and seeing her sweet face now dripping with the signs of penitence, pressed her lips to his in a long and silent embrace. "Say no more, say no more, dear Julia; this is enough! I am happy now! oh, how happy!" page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] "4 TLTTKER AND UNILIKEo The work was done--the tide of coldness and heart-burn- ing had rolled away, and the sweet, still waters of peace and love flow round them. CHAPTER VIII. THERE was, indeed, trouble brewing in the High street church, and their young minister was not well calculated to meet it. He had been called to fill his present situation before having time to make suitable preparation for such a charge. The first sermon he wrote was preached to the people who called him. to be their minister, and of course he had no supply on hand to meet the exigency of a week of illness or physical inability. There had been some demur on his part in accepting the call, on the-point of baptism. It had been the custom of their former pastors to baptize the infants of all persons who applied on the part of their children for the benefit of this rite, irrespective of their membership. So long as parents, no matter how inattentive to religion themselves, were will- ing to take upon them the solemn obligations in reference to the training of their children in the ways of holiness, it had been esteemed all sufficient. But many ministers had begun to feel that this was an error-that not much faith could be put in pledges to train their children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord by those who gave no evidence that they themselves feared the Lord 'or walked in His ways, and to pray with and for their children, when they never prayed for themselves, and had not yet performed any such duty in their families. And Mr. Goodman had not made up ;his mind that he could fall into that practice-he had his doubts of its being the right way, and chose not to be bound. The committee who presented him with the call was made aware of this determination; but having a strong desire to secure him, and hoping that he would at last pursue the old course, unadvisedly trusted to this hope, and took upon themselves the responsibility of allowing this matter to be passed over. -It was, indeed, a flattering call for a young man; the "KE AND UNLIKE. 145 church was one of the most distinguished in the city, of long standing, and many of its members persons of wealth and station. Mr. Goodman was poor, as most clergymen are, but he was more than poor, for he had dependent upon him a large family of parents, brothers and sisters, who had but small means of support; he felt under peculiar obligations to them all, as they had willingly made sacrifices to enable him to prepare for the ministry. His salary was large for those days, and had he no other burdens than himself and wife, he might have lived in ease and independence. But this could not be. His heart was affectionate, he could not enjoy his ease while those he loved were in straitened circumstances; his surplus means, and even his name-unwisely, no doubt-were given for their help. This, with increasing expenses of his own, :not only drained his purse, but brought a weight of care upon his mind. For a while his-eloquent discourses and his great popu- larity overbore the murmuring of those who were dissatisfied with the decision he at last came to on the subject of bap- tism-which was in opposition to the old custom; but these murmurs began at length to assume a more decided charac- ter, and the cares of this world, which pressed upon, him at length affected his preparations for the Sabbath, and afforded a pretext for dissatisfaction. Mrs. Bustle had never been pleased with the new arrange- ment of the Sabbath-school, it placed her in a wrong posi- tion. She could be very efficient as a visitor among poor families, and could talk very plainly to the mothers of the necessity for having their children under religious instruction on the Sabbath, and she could easily talk to the children on the Sabbath about the proprieties of conduct, and found no difficulty in teaching them to spell, and to read, and could hear them recite their verses from the Bible, and their hymns; all this was easy. But when it came to instructing girls and boys who had already made considerable advances in education, and were prone to ask curious questions, and were apt scholars, Mrs. Bustle found the work very perplex- ing. She was no great reader, and perhaps not a very deep thinker, and to be obliged to confine herself to the study even of the Bible itself was quite a task. Bible-classes, too, were an annoyance to her; they being a higher grade in the school, Mrs. Bustle was of course assigned as a teacher of one of them. She did not wish to say she was incompetent for the station, but the duties which it involved were arduous 7 page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] "16 LIKE AND UNLIKE. in the extreme, and it required all the ingenuity and mental power of Mr. Bustle, whom she had to call to her aid, be- sides the violent exertion of her own intellect, to get along anyway decently with the undertaking, and Mrs. Bustle often sighed over the new order of things. She did not like it, but she dared not appear to discountenance it, for it was becoming popular. .She did, however, very much blame her minister for being so forward in this new idea, and it had weakened her regard for him. With all Mrs. Bustle's piety, she had not got the better of a natural propensity to regard her own self-interest as paramount to all other interests. As we have seen, Mrs. Bustle was very strenuous on doc- trinal points. She had been brought up on the old plan, and was a firm believer in the strictest tenets of the strictest Calvinistic school, and the reason for it was that her progen- , itors had believed them-a very good reason indeed, but one which sometimes will not bear examination. It was much easier for her also to be satisfied with the faith she had been brought up in, than to answer some texts drawn from the Scriptures, which if taken into account, have a tendency to modify these extreme and sharp dogmas; and because she could not answer them, she wans very much wrought upon in- wardly and her righteous soul vexed. 4' To think," she said, h that people should attempt to undermine or controvert doctrines which had been believed by the good old'men of former days! It was abominable, insufferable. They were doctrines which she had been taught in her childhood and -she would cling to them to her dying day." And no doubt. she would; it was easier to cling to them than to examine them by Scripture--at least, it was easier for Mrs. Bustle. Now Mr. Goodman had not just the views of this matter which Mrs. Bustle and some others had, and feeling his responsibility as a minister of the Gospel to preach the whole Gospel, and not merely such parts as would sustain a partic- ular system, he- did at times let out some truths that had a tendency to make those who were trusting too implicitly to their orthodoxy feel very uncomfortable; they might not, after all, be so secure as they imagined, and as nothing will give a man so severe a shock as to be told that he is resting on an unsafe platform, there was quite a stirring up of the sensibilities; some shook their heads, some whispered, some murmured disapprobation, some came out boldly and made sweeping denunciations and even terrible threats. The matter of removing a minister is by no means a diffi- "TKE AND UNLIKE. 147 cult one in general, if there are only a few resolute spirits to lead the enterprise, and it is a humbling fact that for such a purpose so many who may be considered in other respects excellent Christians, seem at the time to forget their charac- ter and vows, and act without reference even to the common principles of honor among men. They work in the dark; have secret and select meetings; speak, as they have oppom: tunity, in disparaging terms to those over whom they have influence; insinuate false motives; make light of apparently good efforts; and in a variety of ways use their best endea- vors to shake the faith of the people of his charge. They forget with what earnestness they invited him to cast himself upon their care, and how readily they pledged themselves, if not by word of mouth, yet by every implied promise that men of honor should feel as binding as a written contract, to hold up his hands and be his friends and supporters. Mr. Bustle was not a man of much force, but he had a wife to urge him on; his views were pretty much those which Mrs. Bustle held, and in fact it was very well for his own in- dividual comfort that he could so readily at all times coincide with her-it saved him a deal of trial. But, with her to stimulate'his action, he might be made an efficient workman in the way of undoing things. He was an elder of the Church, a man of good physical presence; he had a mild, in- sinuating countenance, a grave and rather solemn demeanor; his hair lay very smooth upon his head, and it was white, and imparted a reverend aspect; his voice was soft and agree- able, and he had a way of saying good things that was quite taking with women and children and many men; he was gifted in prayer, so these men, women and children thought, for his utterance was reverential, and he went over the common expressions of pious utterance very smoothly- and then the way in which Mr. Bustle sighed when he had finished, and the way in which he drew his white handker- chief across his face and over his smooth foretop was all tak- ing; it had its part in the scene, and it was perfiectly natural; he always did just so. That he was a good man there is no doubt; but these external accompaniments had a powerful influence in elevating Mr. Bustle in the minds of many people. Mr. Bustle, or rather Mrs. Bustle, had made up her mind that Mr. Goodman must be ousted, and the first step was to call the session together-not indeed in regular meeting, for then the pastor must be present, but merely for the sake of page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] "8 LIKE AND UNLIKE. talking things over-and for this purpose Mr. Bustle called on its several members, and as he had not, it must be said, the resolution and courage .of Mrs. Bustle, he endeavored to avoid as much as possible all personal responsibility, and it may be doubted whether he was really at heart very much in the spirit of the undertaking; he therefore used caution, and in opening the matter to his brother officers in the Church, rather suggested than urged it. "He regretted," he said, (" to find that there seemed to be in the minds of some of the Church some dissatisfaction; he didn't know how much. He felt sorry that it should be so; but that, as members of the session, it seemed to him their duty to. be doing something that -would, may be, put things in a better shape; perhaps they could, by coming together and talking things over in a brotherly way, do something by way of mending matters-at any rate, try and find out what was the true state of things." As no reasonable objection could be made to such a pro- position, each one of course assented to its propriety, and thus that business was settled and an evening was appointed for a meeting at the house of Mr. Bustle. Mrs. Bustle was in high spirits at the success of his mission. She had a great deal to say; she had spent the day in calling -- not one but was of her mind." Good soul, no one cared to differ from her, especially as her glib tongue and decided manner gave them no very favorable opportunity. Shefelt positive " that there was an immense dissatisfaction." But she had done good in another way. Her friend Mrs. Roff had told her about Junius, and very lucky it was that she happened to call there, for, said she- "He was in a very distressed state of mind. I found that he was just about to go to Mr. Goodman, and talk to him; Mrs. Sterling had advised him by all means to go. But I soon stopped that-to think of his going there, and have his young mind led astray! I stopped that ; I told him there was no occasion at all for any such step; that, so far as I could see, he was all right; that there was no kind of occasion for his looking on the dark side of things-there was every evi- dence already that he was a Christian; all he had to do was to go on, and to be of good cheer. And then I asked his mother if'she had Toplady in the- house, for if she hadn't, I had; but she went and got it. ' There,' says I,' do you read ' that; Toplady is next to the Bible-a glorious book. All you want now is to be indoctrinated-get well indoctrinated, - lI "KE AND UNLIKE. 149 and you will find all will be clear.' Toplady on Predestina- tion, Mr. Bustle, is a great book." "A very good book-a great book." Mr. Bustle always quoted his wife's remarks, even if he put in a few words of his own. The meeting of the members of the session came- off ac- cording to appointment. There were present, Mr. Stokes, a Scotch gentleman of portly bearing and of good solid Scotch elements. There was no humbug about Mr. Stokes-he made no great pretensions to ardent piety--was no friend to social prayer-meetings, and never encouraged them by his presence. No one could ever have guessed that he was a member of the Church, much less would they have supposed him to be an elder, who did not happen to see him go to the table and serve at it. But Mr. Stokes was an honorable, out- spoken man, who said just what he thought, without refer- ence to the views and feelings of any other man; and we hope in the main he was a good man. He certainly was a very correct, upright man in business. - He did not like the pastor for the change he had made in the matter of baptism, and for other reasons, and he was ready to let anybody know his mind. Mr. Biam was not a Scotchman, but he had a strong pre- dilection'for old forms and creeds, and old ways in general. He was quite an easy sort of person, and never troubled himself nor any one else about church affairs further than its temporalities. He likewise eschewed prayer-meetings, and such like unusual gatherings; was not at all anxious because there seemed to be rather a cold state of things; indeed, to one who beheld him on the Sabbath, comfortably ensconced in his easy corner of the pew, wrapped up in his own medi- tations, and regardless of all about him, he would have ap- peared as a very contented man, and perfectly sure he was on the way to heaven-and quite satisfied to let others get there or not, as they thought best. Mr. Biam. was a little "out of sorts "-nothing could have disturbed him much- but he was not pleased with the change in ,regard to baptism. Mr. Raynor was an earnest and zealous Christian, a warm- * hearted, kind and intelligent man. He loved the Church in general, and that one in particular, for it had been his house for public worship from his childhood. He also had been an ardent friend of Mr. Goodman, and was one of those who hoped for the best, and that Mr. Goodman would come to the conclusion to pursue the old course, which had been the page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 150 TIKRF AND UNLIKE. custom of that church. He would not, in all probability, have taken any steps against his young minister, if he had not been goaded to it by Mr. Stokes, an old friend of his, and his own good wife, who, like Mrs. Bustle, ruled at horne, and was herself quite severe in her feelings. Mr. Raynor had a sorrowful look as he took his seat that morning. IHe really felt grieved at heart for he knew the part he should take would not be on the side of Mr. Goodman. He could not do otherwise for domestic reasons. Mr. James was a Scotchman, good in his way, an illiterate man, and had given his mind up pretty much to be ruled by Mr. Stokes. He was a constant attendant on -all the appoint- nments of the Church, and, no doubt, as far as he knew, meant to do right. Messrs. Wyckoff and Rhind were firm friends of their minister, and were men of the true stamp. They believed in the doctrines of their church, but were willing to allow a preacher of the Gospel a full latitude in delivering his whole message. They were willing to have him insist on the neces- sity of good works, as well as dependence on grace-to have their hearts probed and natures weighed, and to be closely catechised on all points of Christian duty in the Church, the family, and the world. They were not the men to mind be- cause the shaft touched them directly--they knew that there were hidden evils in their hearts, and were ready to see them, and to thank their minister for enabling them to do so. "Mr. Miles was an oM gentleman. Mr. Bustle did not in- vite him. He was not of much consequence, he was a poor man, very retiring in his habits, and of little influence among so many who were rich. Perhaps Mr. Bustle thought it might be unpleasant to Mr. Miles to be seated in a fine par- lor, where everything would be in such contrast with his own poor home. But whatever were his motives, he had not called upon him. He was there, however, by the invitation of Mr. Wyckoff, who happened to meet him, and informed him of the meeting. Mr. Bustle has been already introduced to the reader, and we need say nothing further of his peculiarities, except that he seemed more than usually solemn this evening, and used his handkerchief very often in smoothing down his silvery foretop. As he had invited the gentlemen, it behooved him to open the meeting, and state the object for which they had been called together. He did it very well, -and, to crown all, he "KE AND UNLIKE. 151 proposed that their consultation should be preceded by prayer. All assented, and as he had made the proposition, he was requested to perform the service. This he did in his usual manner, going over with all the petitions he had been in the habit of using on every occasion, but with slight and rather disjointed requests in reference to the present meet- ing-anything out of the regular order came unhandy to Mr. Bustle. He did .say, something, however, which no doubt answered the same purpose, as he supposed. He was then called, upon to give a statement of what he knew about matters and things in the church. M1r. Bustle " could not say much. There was evidently some dissatisfaction; he had reason to know it "-he did not state from what source his information came--" but he had reason to know it. People were dissatisfied-they were not pleased-there was a good deal of dissatisfaction. One cause and another had made them dissatisfied with their minister. He did not know that he had anything more to say-only thdre was great dissatisfaction-and he should like to hear the minds of the other gentlemen." It was, however, desirable that Mr. Bustle's mind should be known, and one of the other gentlemen, it was Mr Wyckoff, asked: "What are your own views and feelings, Brother Bustle? we should like to hear them. It seems proper that we should speak plainly on that point, especially to each other." Mr. Wyckoff evidently had doubts whether Mr. Bustle was really speaking for himself. "I think so too," said Mr. Stokes, in his bluff, stern man- ner. Let every man speak his feelings openly." Thus urged, Mr. Bustle smoothed down his hair and his face to his satisfaction, and again rose up, moving his chair as he did so in a nervous, fidgetty way. "As to my own views and feelings, I have not much to say. I would have been well pleased to have had things go on as they have done. I want peace; I don't like to be stirred up myself-nor is it good, as I view it, that the minds of the people should be stirred up; it isn't good;- it isn't for the good of the Church; we should study peace in all things. These are my views." And Mr. Bustle was preparing to sit down again, when Mr. Stokes asked: "Mr. Bustle, are you satisfied with Mr. Goodman's preaching?P" page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 152 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "Not altogether, sir: some things I might wish a little different." Mr. Stokes manifested, by the color which spread over his face, some-sort of emotion, but it would have been difficult to say what it was-his countenance never changed, it was always stern. "Perhaps, Brother Bustle, you had better say on what grounds your dissatisfaction is based. Are his sermons defi- cient on account of style, or does their matter displease you?" "His style I do not complain of-it is not that; he is a fine preacher-; his style is good, but some think he dwells a little too much on some points, and then, that is not all; there is great dissatisfaction on the point of baptism; many people are dissatisfied; they don't like the change; they have been used to the old way, and they are dissatisfied; that is all I can say. You have my views." As there was not much likelihood of getting anything further out of Brother Bustle, he was allowed to take his seat. Mr. Stokes then arose. His manner was stern, prompt, business-like. "I think, Mr. Goodman has no business to alter the long established usages of this church, and the sooner we get rid of him the better." This was plain and comprehensible; it did not, indeed, seem to harmonize very well with the mild and gentle prin- ciples of the Gospel, nor with the courtesy which the Scrip- tures recommend, but it was the way in which Mr. Stokes delivered his sentiments, and was satisfactory to himself. Mr. Biam, being the next richest member of the session, was then called upon. Mr. Biam arose very quietly, and spoke in a calm and agreeable manner. "I am sorry this difficulty has arisen, and that Mr. Good- man has taken the stand he has; but if there is such univer- sal dissatisfaction -as has been stated, my opinion is it would be much better that there should be a separation of pastor and people. I am for dissolving the relation." Mr. James was next called upon. He arose and fumbled about his head with one hand, while with the other he held fast to his chair. Mr. James was of the Bustle order-very solemn, and very deliberate and careful. "I agree with Mr. Biam "-he meant Mr. Stokes. Mr. Stokes was the highest authority with Mr. James. "I am - sorry there is so much dissatisfaction; but, since the people "KE AND UNLIKE. 153 are dissatisfied, it is my opinion the union between the pastor and people had better be dissolved." And Mr. James took his seat. - "Brother Wyckoff," said Mr. Bustle, " we should be glad to hear your sentiments." "- I should prefer," the gentleman replied, to be -heard after Brother Miles has spoken; he is the oldest man among us, and it seems proper that he should have an opportunity to express his views before those of us so much his juniors." And Mr. Bustle intimated to Brother Miles the desire of the company to hear what he had to say. - And liMr. M3iles arose. "I ,cannot understand, brethren, how it is that thus sud- denly we are called upon to talk over the subject of dismiss- ing our minister. Nor can I understand very clearly what are the grounds of complaint against him; for my own part, I have not heard a lisp of dissatisfaction from any member of the congregation before I heard it here this evening. On the contrary, I have heard many speak in the warmest terms of approbation, and, moreover, I am very confident his preaching is doing good; many persons, to my knowledge, among the people are quite serious; our prayer-meetings are quite fillly attended, and there are signs of the, commence- ment of a good work among us; it would be most unfor- tunate that any move should be made such as has been inti- mated this evening. I can think of no good reason for it." Messrs. Wyckoff and Rhind, " were equally confident that there could be no. general dissatisfaction, and agreed with Brother Miles that any attempt to bring about a dissolution between pastor and people would be, at the present juncture, a most. unfortunate event." -Mr. Raynor was evidently very unwilling to say much on the subject. "He thought there was dissatisfaction, but how much, he could not say; he sincerely regretted it; he sin- cerely regretted the course the pastor had taken, but would not call in question his motives. Nor did he think it best to make any hasty conclusion about the subject of breaking the relation between this church and the pastor until the opinions of the people were canvassed. Some of the members were now very busily engaged in confidential conversation, and in a few moments a motion was made that a committee of two persons be appointed to call on the different members of the congregation for the purpose of ascertaining how much feeling there was on the 7* page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 LIKE AND UNLIKE. subject; the result was, that Mr. Bustle and Mr. James were selected for this purpose. Mr. Raynor had been nominated, but for special reasons declined, and the meeting was dis- solved. Mr. Bustle and his associate lost no time in commencing their task. Strange as it may seem, they went forth as if going on a mission of love. They thought not of the pain they were about to inflict upon a faithful minister of Christ, nor upon many who loved him and delighted in his ministra- tions, nor upon the effect which their work might have in stirring up discord and strife; and yet neither Mr. Bustle nor Mr. James were unkind or evil disposed men; they were both illiterate, although men of property, and no doubt, in the main, men who feared God and loved the Church; but their minds were not -enlarged; their spiritual vision em- braced but a narrow circle; they were in a station for which neither of them was qualified, and a little lifted up in conse- quence, and the errand they were about to start upon was undertaken rather because it was of a public and 6fficial character than from any real hostility of feeling to their minister. That the church in High street was the stronghold of some of the severer features of Calvinism and of the practices of the Scottish Church, there is no doubt, and that many who listened to the preaching of their pastor did not altogether relish his close preaching and his insisting so much on the exhibition of the true Christian character in professors, and the danger of relying on any evidences but those which were palpable in a holy walk and conversation, was no doubt true; but the strong proofs which he adduced to support his asser- tions, and the pungent exhortations which he addressed to their consciences, tended to stop complaints, and was no doubt bringing the majority of his hearers under the influence of his wholesome teachings. This had more particular refer- ence to the younger portion of the congregation. Many of the older ones still wrapped themselves in their self-compla- cent theories, and received these truths into unwilling ears. Among the latter were those who had great wealth and, of consequence, even in the Church, had great power. They had long ruled without any to gainsay or resist them. As these were first honored by a visit from the committee, it did seem pretty clear to their minds that the dissatisfaction so much talked about at their meeting was a reality. But another view of the state of things was soon unfolded to , -i . *' , * ,*.. "KE AXD UNLIKE. . 155 them. Having nearly closed their labors of the first day, when about to pass the store of Messrs. Russell & Co., they consulted together as to the propriety of calling in. Said Mr. Bustle, "Mr. Russell is not a member of the Church, and perhaps does not care much one way or other about the matter; but his wife is on our side, so LMrs. Bustle thinks, although she has not called' upon her. Shall we go in? He is a pew-owner and has a right to speak." "' Certainly, if you say so." So in they went. Mr. Russell received them with all courtesy, for, although as a man of the world, he had a certain estimate of both of these gentlemen that was not strictly in accordance with the views of some of the " men, women-and children " of the congregation, yet he would pay them due respect for their office sake. He had no idea what their errand might be. Perhaps to converse with him in reference to his soul's con- cerns. He could have wished they had chosen a different place and that some others he could have named had taken this duty upon them. "But they should receive civil treat- menlt, at least." Mr. Bustle, being the chief speaker, soon commenced: Mr. Russell, as you are a pew-owner and Mrs. Russell is one of our members, and you no doubt are interested in the well-being of our Church, we have called to have a little talk about our matters; things are not just right; not just as they should be; perhaps you have felt it." ' ' Somewhat relieved by finding that he was not to be sub- ject to a personal lecture, Mr. Russell replied readily: "To what do you allude, Mr. Bustle?" "I mean in regard to our minister and the feeling that is getting up against him." "Ah! indeed! Not against Mr. Goodman! That's news to me. "It is a sad -fact, Mr. Russell. I am sorry to say it, but there seems to be great dissatisfaction-great dissatisfaction." "' Who are they that are dissatisfied?" " Oh, well, a, good many in all, sir; some of ouf most in- fluential people." "What are they dissatisfied about? don't he preach close enough for them?" "Oh, well, I can't say as to that." ' Don't he give us the truth?" ",Oh, well, I wouldn't just say that. There is no doubt auch truth in what he says, but many think he seems to slip page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 LIKE AND UNLIKE. round the doctrines; they think the old doctrines are not preached as they used to be." "And I hope they never will be; we have had them ground over long enough." r Mr. Bustle smoothed down his hair, and Mr. James took out his snuff-box ard commenced fingering his Maccaboy; they both began to wish they had just passed on their way and let Messrs. Russell & Co. alone; but as they were in for it, something must be said. "And that is not all; there is great dissatisfaction -about the change in regard to baptism. You know he refuses to baptize the infants of such as are not members of the Church' -a new thing among us." "Yes; and a good thing it is, as I view it. If I was a minister, I should do just as he does. Why, what kind of a mockery it is to see men, and women, too, go up with their children, who have no more religion than a horse, and take the most solemn obligations upon themselves, and promise to pray and all that, with their children, and when they had no more idea of doing the thing than if they were heathen? I have seen" men there performing that solemn act when it has made my blood run cold, for I knew they never meant a word they said. It was enough to make one despise the whole concern, and I only wonder that those who pretend to believe in the solemnity of the act- should have been willing to allow it. Why didn't these same persons go to the table themselves ; certainly they had a right to do it if they had a right to poke their children into the Church, for baptism makes one a member of the Church, does it not?" "Oh, not exactly--Oh, no!" ' Why not? What else constituted membership when the Church was first established? If baptism does not, then tell me what does?"' "Oh, well, I know-I know it did then, no doubt." "And when has any new light been given? Who has had a new revelation since then?"' "' No new revelation-oh, no; but we must examine them first, now, you know--we must see whether they have expe- rienced a change of heart." ". "All right; that is right, no doubt. And do you examine those parents who come up and promise so many things, and make confession of their faith? Could they make a stronger confession if they came forward to be baptized themselves? Answer me this; Can a parent confer upon a child a pri- "T1TCF AND UNLIKE. 157 vilege through himself, which he himself is not entitled to?" Mr. Bustle was at his wit's end. This was not the errand he came upon. He could talk deploringly about dissatisfac- tion; but to go into such particulars about the propriety of certain rites, and the privileges they entailed, and the reasons for them, was not in his line; he had not looked further than into the old custom, and the dissatisfaction which had arisen from breaking it. As he kept smoothing his forehead and wiping his face, Mr. James took the matter in-hand, and spoke for him: "We are, you know, Mr. Russell, a branch of the Old Scotch Church; that is, we are a Presbyterian Church, as founded in this country by the good fathers that are dead and gone, and we follow their customs. They were good men, and we don't want to cast a slur on their names; we don't want any innovations." "Our fathers," replied Mr. Russell, '" are dead and gone, and must answer for themselves; they cannot answer for us; and I don't think, gentlemen, without meaning any disrespect to Scotchmen or to the Scotch Church, that we are bound to fol- low their peculiar notions. But, aside from that, tell me one thing: Who has started this difficulty? and is Mr. Goodman aware that members of his Session are going about and endea- voring to create discontent and discussion among the people?" "Oh, sir! Oh, Mr. Russell!"Mr. Bustle exclaimed, put- ting up both his hands, as though deprecating the idea. "You have mistaken our errand entirely-entirely, my good "SiHave I? the I am glad to know it; but from te tenor of your remarks I have drawn that conclusion. - I think, at any rate, its tendency is to such a result." "By no means, by no means, sir, would we wish to do any such thing as that. We are merely calling on the different members of the congregation to ascertain the feelings of the people-that is all, I assure you, sir." "I should think that might better be ascertained by notic- ing their attention on the Sabbath. I should judge that the people were all well pleased. Never washour church better attended than it is now; and my wife tells me that the evening meeting, which Mr. Goodman holds every week, is quite full, and that his services there are most satisfactory." The two gentlemen looked at each other as though they felt it was time to go, and Mr. Russell continued: t page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] 158 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "So far as I and my family are concerned, if you wish to know how we feel, I can tell you: we are entirely satisfied with our minister, and so are all those whom we hear speak of him; and I should say, that the best thing for the Session to do, is to hold up the hands of the young man, as you pro- mnised to do when you settled him. I think you had better spend your time in praying for him, than trying to find out any little item of dissatisfaction that may be in the minds of any. That is now my-candid opinion--pardon me, if I speak my mind too plainly." "Oh, certainly-certainly, Mr. Russell; no offence, we assure you, sir. We merely called, as I said, to know how you felt; that is all, sir; all satisfactory, sir-perfectly so." Thee two gentlemen had already risen, and at once took their departure. This last call having satisfied them for the day, they made their way to their own homes. Mrs. Bustle had been also out that day, and had just returned when her good husband came in from his labors. She was not in the best humor, whether with herself or him, or the general affairs of the world or the Church, Mr. Bustle did not know. But having an intimate acquaintance with the changes in her countenance, it did not take him long to deter- mine, from a glance at her eye, what was the state of her mind. He therefore proceeded carefully, talked pleasantly of the state of the weather, and of matters entirely one side of the businges he had been upon. Mrs. Bustle was in her chair, rocking herself quite fast. "It is pretty hard, Mr. Bustle, when I am exerting myself in every which way to do what I can to get things set right, and am exposing myself to the ill-will and cutting remarks of all sorts of people, that you should be unwilling to come out and take a stand, and let folks know what you think-it's pretty hard." "Haven't I come out? "No; I don't call it coming out, when you are afraid to say what is what--I don't call that coming out." W' hen was it that I didn't say what is what?" ' When was it? Why, it was only the last evening, here, in your own house, too! and when you yourself had gone and called the Session together-I should not have thought it. "Wife, it is not so-it is a great mistake." "Well, so it is said. You see, this thing is all round. The way you have managed, too, is most ridiculous, Mr. Bus- i "KE AND UNLIKE. 1- 59 tie; only to think, instead of calling together a few of the Session, just such as you knew were disaffected, and- having a consultation about what measures had best to be taken, you go and ask the whole of them, when you knew well enough that Mr. Wyckoff, and Mr. Rhind, and old Miles, are dead set in favor of Goodman. ' Was that any way to do?" "I did it for the best-I did'it all for the best." "' And you have done it; yes, you have done it, Mr. Bus- tle; just the very thing that will knock the whole dish over."' "How so--how so, Peggy?"Mr. Bustle always said Peggy, when he wished to soften matters, and get the right side of Mrs. Bustle. "' How so! I will tell you how. The thing is all out now -everybody knows of the meeting, and all that was said and done, and many are up in arms about it; and the blame comes upon us. Why did you invite them here?" "You told me to." "Never! not such a meeting as you called. Never, Mr. Bustle! Why, you might have known :that such men as some of your session are, would never have agreed to any such step as the business you have been upon to-day, only that they might tell round that you were going about 'to make mischief.: And it has been told to my face, this very day, and by more than one person, too. But I have done-- I shall make no more exertions. To be abused as I have been this day, and then to think- that you had not the cour- age to come out and say what you really did think! I can tell you, Mr. Stokes is hopping mad about it." "Mr. Stokes mad at me! What have I done, wife?" " Well, you shall hear the whole of it. When I went out this morning, I thought I would call on NMrs. Stokes first. So I stops there, and who should be there but Mrs. Raynor, and you know what sort of a woman she is-and the first salute I had was, 'Well, Mrs. Bustle, your husband was afraid last evening to say his soul was his own; he was so round about and meally-mouthed, there was no finding out whether he liked Mr. Goodman or not.' CAnd that, too,' chimes in Mrs. Stokes, ' after he had taken the trouble to call them all together. Mr.-Stokes came home all out of humor. He says he spoke his mind freely.' And there was I, hearing all this and not a word. to say. BiUt I guess you have of fended Mr. Stokes, so look out-he is a rough'man and don't care who-he cuts when he gets mad-friend or foe." page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] 160 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "What I did I did for the best. I did not want to hurt the feelings of some of the members by saying as one man said to me to-day, and he a member of the Church. Speak- ing of Mr. Goodman, he said, ' kick him out of the Church-- kick him out of the Church.' You would--not have me speak so, would you?" "I would, if I was a man, say what I thought. You know you are fast to get rid of him. Why, then, should you be so mealy-mouthed about it?" "Our influence-our influence, Peggy. We must be care- ful, you know; we must not injure that if we can help it." "Well, I guess your influence, as you call it, is pretty much gone now with both parties. Stokes is mad, and I guess Raynor is inad, and then the other party is hopping mad. I guess you may hang up your fiddle now, Mr. Bustle. You are done for! And then to be told to my face at one of the places where I called, that all the trouble begun with me and my husband, and that 'we were trying to make disturb- ance, and to get our minister away! It is too bad! it is shameful, and I shan't stand it. No one has the right to tell me so to my face." Mr. Bustle was about to relate his own experience, which was so parallel to that of Mrs. Bustle, but he concluded it could do no good, so, like a prudent man, he kept his trial to himself. There was now a ring from the street door bell, and in a few moments a servant entered with a letter, which he handed to. Mr. Bustle. "Who brought this, James? Not the postman?" "Oh, no, sir. The boy that lives with the Rev. Mr. Goodman brought it. I asked him if he was to have an answer. But he said he was merely told to leave it." Mr. Bustle took out his,spectacles, and with rather a ner- vous tremor in his hands, removed them from the case, and placed them in a position to do him service. His hand trem- bled a little, too, as he held up the note to read. Mrs. Bus- tle's curiosity was greatly excited. She sat with her hands folded, with her bright, sparkling eye fixed on her good man. She saw that he was somewhat pale. "What is it, Mr. Bustle?" "Read it "-handing her the note. She read it carefully through, and then laid it on her lap. "What shall you do?" '"I must go, I suppose; what else can I do?" "KE AND UJNLIKE. 16 "Now, Mr. Bustle, hear me--now will be the time of trial. He wants you to come there-why couldn't he have come here?" "Don't you see--he says he is not well to-day, and cannot 'come out." Mrs. Bustle took up the letter, and read it again. "I guess he's well enough for that matter; but he has no doubt heard of this business, and I suppose it- has worked upon him, may be. Now, Ir. Bustle is your time of trial. He will, no doubt, bring -up this business-he will want to know all about it. Now, I say, is your time--you must be firm--you must say out and out just what you think and what other people think-you must stand your ground; if you don't you will be done for, you will be despised and hooted at by everybody." Mr. Bustle made no reply-he was in- no very happy state of mind. He had hitherto been on pleasant terms with his pastor, that is, to his face-and the tenor of the note showed very clearly that Mr. Goodman looked to him as one of his best friends. To go now into his presence-to meet him alone-to meet him as a friend and to tell him his true feelings, as Mrs. Bustle had insisted upon his\ doing-it would indeed require a firmness of purpose which, unhappily, Mr. Bustle did not possess, and he was conscious of it. He did not eat his dinner with any relish that day, and very soon thereafter started for the house of his minister. He had much to think of by the way, and therefore walked with a very moderate pace, ever and anon wiping his face, and taking off his hat and smoothing his foretop. But before we go with him to his pastor's study, we must attend to some events which were transpiring elsewhere, James Beaufort had become quite intimate with the-Rev. Mr. Goodman. He had, through the instrumentality of the minister, been appointed as teacher to one of the Bible classes. He was indeed very young to take such a responsibility, but Mr. Goodman found upon acquaintance that he was a dili- gent student of the Scriptures, and very anxious to make himself familiar with such subjects as would in any way throw light upon the sacred record; and as few libraries, except those of the clergy, contained, such works, Mr. Goodman had invited him to make free with his, and James had done so. This led to familiar intercourse, and by degrees the young man became almost as much at home in the house of his pastor as at -M. Sterling'8-in fact, he was quite a favor- page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] 162 LIKE AND UNLIKE. ite with both Mr. G. and his lady, and especially would the latter converse freely with him, and sometimes on personal matters, and at times take thee liberty of asking his aid in doing an errand upon which she did not like to send her husband, and could not well commit to a servant; and as his an evenings were at his own-command, he was often in this way able to repay their kindness and attention to him. He had also made himself very useful during the sickness of a de- ceased brother of Mr. Goodman, and had watched through many nights, and was by his side on that in which he breathed his last. All this had brought him into great intimacy there. The evening preceding the day in which the committee started on their tour of exploration, James had spent at his pastor's. He did not see him, for he was not well. Mrs. Goodman, however, was in the parlor, but appeared very much downcast. The conversation turned on the recent death, and Mrs. Goodman, in speaking of it, said, " that she feared the event was going to be a sad thing for them, and would in all probability be the means of breaking up their. home. Mr. Goodman had become responsible for his brother to the amount of three thousand dollars, and it was found (Mr. Goodman had only learned it that day) that the business had turned out very badly-a ruinous concern, and that there was no doubt he would be obliged to pay the whole amount for which he had become responsible. The news," she said, "had entirely overcome him, for there was no way to pay the amount but by the sale of their furniture or some vacant lots which she owned in the upper part of the city; in either case the sacrifice would be very great. She did not care for her own sake, but her husband was feeble, his strength was exhausted by severe study, and his spirits seemed to have lost their elasticity. She feared what the end might be." James was deeply concerned; he could say nothing that could give comfort, for he was helpless himself; and unable to give material aid, and nothing else was of any moment. When he returned home, he in confidence told Mrs. Ster- ling, saying at the same time, " that he thought where there was so much wealth in the congregation, it seemed a pity so good a man should be allowed to suffer." Mrs. Sterling thought so too, and in turn made known the state of thngs to her husband. Mr. Sterling was a man of business, he had made his own fortumfe, and was as cautious "KE AND UNLIKE. 163 now as he had been when just commencing his career. He was liberal, but never apparently forward in measures where demands were likely to -be made upon his purse. He there- fore expressed sorrow on hearing the recital-somewhat blamed Mr. Goodman for his imprudence, and there let the matter drop. Having some business at the office of Russell & Co., he called there the next day, and as he entered he found his friend Russell in a state of excitement. "' They're a set of canting hypocrites," he heard him say-as he came into the office. F "What's the matter now?" "I tell you, Sterling, they're a set of canting hypocrites, half these Chstians are." "Toot, toot, toot, don't talk so ; not ]half of them. Hush, man, you are too fast. Some good men and women among them. I wish you and I were half as good." "Did you meet Bustle,. and that old codger with him, James? .They have just gone from here." "Yes, I met them and bowed very politely to them, as they did to me. Two very venerable men." "Two old hypocrites, as ever walked the earth." "Hoot, toot! fie upon you, Russell. Remember they are elders in the church." "I know that, and the more the pity. What do you think? They have been here whining out a pitiful story about our minister, and doing their best, the old goats, to make a breeze and stir up dissension. I can see through them." ' "It can't be, though! They are not on any such business as that, I hope." "Yes, they are. Came here telling me that people are dissatisfied and all that, and wanting to know how I felt. And I told themrn pretty plainly how I felt. And if it had not been that it was in my own office, I should have told them to their face what I thought of them. I shaved polite- ness rather close as it was; but if it had been anywhere but on my own premises, they would have taken such a scorching as they never had." "Russell, step out here." And Mr. Sterling took his arm, and they walked into the hinder part of the building. "What you tell me is rather a serious matter, especially in connection with some other things I have heard. Tell me what they have said." page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] 164 LIKE AND UNLIKE. And Mr. Russell went over with the scene which has teen already described. "I understand the difficulty now. In fact, I have thought some of the old Scotchmen got stronger medicine sometimes than they like to swallow. But it cannot be that many are dissatisfied! I feel sure it is not so; quite the contrary. But this thing, in connection, with another I have heard of in the last twenty-four hours, may be the means of driving Mr. Goodman -away from us, and for Caroline's sake I should dread that exceedingly." "So should I. Julia would be distracted; she thinks there never was such a man, and in fact I like him myself. He is a noble preacher, and a noble man, a good fellow every inch of him, one that you can look up to and respect. He won't stay, though, if there should be any difficulty." "No, not unless he found he had some very firm friends to stand by him through thick and thin." ( I will be one of them, at any rate. I will stand by him, -if all the old blues clear out." "The trouble I fear is, that a late affair, just come to light, will so affect him that his strength will give out; he is not in firm health, and for a young man like him to have the charge of such a congregation-to have divisions to contend against and a heavy debt upon his shoulders-it will be more than he can stand." "Debt! He is not in debt, is he?" "You know his brother died lately." - "Yes." "He has left his affairs in a bad condition, and it seems, in order to give this brother a start in business so that he might be some assistance in supporting -their father's family, Mr. Goodman has given his name for three thousand dollars, and now he has got to pay it." "Whew! you don't say so?" "It is true. Mrs. Goodman told our James so last even- ing, and he felt so bad about it, he told Caroline. Mr. Goodman himself is quite unwell; I have no doubt it is this trouble that 6auses it." "No doubt, no doubt. But what will he do? He has nothing, has he?" "Nothing but his furniture. You know-his wife pur- chased that. She had some little property, and has still a few vacant lots, which she tells James must be dreadfully sacri- ficed as well as their furniture; they have no other means." "KE AND UNLIKE. 165 "Sterling, let us go and see him-let us go and see what the state of the case is. Perhaps we can'be of some aid; we can give advice, at any rate; and hang me, if, I wouldn't rather put my hand in my own pocket and do something. I would do it for Julia's sake, if for nothing else.' "That is just what I have been thinking. We had better go there and let him see that he has friends. As you say, I would, for Caroline's sake, put my hand in my pocket too, rather than have the good man suffer." "When will you go?" " At once-that is, we had better wait until after dinner." '"I will be ready; you call for me." It was the first time either Mr. Sterling or Mr. Russell had ever been in the house or study of their minister, and it was a matter of some surprise to him to behold the two gentle- men as the servant opened the door and admitted them to his presence. He had no idea for what intent they had come. He knew they were not memibers of his church. They could not have come as inquirers, or they would have come singly. Possibly-and the thought at once threw a cloud upon his heart-their errand was on business; in some way they were interested in his brother's affairs?" 'He was pale, and appeared more than usually wan and weak. He received them with much courtesy, sad and sick at heart as he felt. "Our visit, we hope," said Mr. Sterling, "will not be deemed an intrusion, Mr. Goodman. My friend Russell and myself have just heard that you are likely to be put to trou- ble on account of the situation in which the affairs of your deceased brother have been left, and we thought you might possibly need some advice, not being yourself a business man, or even you might need aid. Our intention is friendly, I can assure you, sir, and I hope on that account you will pardon the liberty we have taken." Mr. Goodman settled back in his large chair, and for a moment seemed at a loss for words in which to reply; he was evidently much moved. "My dear sirs, you must excuse me if I don't receive your offer with the fervor I would gladly manifest. I am some- what exhausted; my strength, I find, is more completely prostrated than I had imagined. A severe pressure has been upon my spirits; troubles of different kinds, coming as they have unexpectedly and in close succession, have been more page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] 166 LIKE A:ND UNLIKE. than my physical strength is equal to. But I assure you, I feel most deeply your kindness." "-We have no desire, M1r. Goodman," said Mr. Russell, "to intrude upon your private affairs; but so far as, you see fit to confide your true situation to us, you can do so with the full assurance that the information will be held strictly confidential on our part." "I have not the least fear, gentlemen, of unfolding to you my pecuniary matters;. in fact, I meant to do it to some of my- people, and have sent a note to our good elder, Mr. Bustle, expressing my desire that he would call on me. I felt that I must have advice, and could think df no one who would be more able and willing to give it than Mr. Bustle." The two gentlemen looked at each other; what peculiar meaning was conveyed by that look the reader can, no doubt, comprehend. "But I assure you- both, Mr. Goodman continued, " that I feel equal confidence in you, and therefore shall not hesi- tate a moment in making the revelation." Mr. Goodman then went on and explained fully the situa- tion of his affairs, and the motives that had induced him thus to involve himself. It took some time to do this, and just as he closed, the door of the study was opened, and Mr. Bustle came in,- with handkerchief in hand, clean and white, and smoothing his white locks and his full, round face. ' To describe the peculiar feelings of the gentleman as he ad- vanced to give his hand to his pastor and .the two gentlemen would not be an easy matter. He knew well the feelings of one of the parties, and had no doubt the other sympathized in these feelings or they would not have come there together, and he felt equally certain what their errand there was. To meet such a storm as was now clearly brewing, and under such circumstances, was a little too much for Mr. Bustle's nerves, and his knees fairly trembled; he was glad to take a seat as soon as possible. Mr. Sterling was a man of quick thought, and being very sure of the cooperation of his friend Russell, even without an opportunity for consultation, he at once turned to Mr. Goodman : "I believe now, Mr. Goodman, Mr. Russell and I compre- hend the whole case, and can'communicate to your friend here, Mr. Bustle, what you have told us, and as we should like to consult a little in private, we will, with your leave, "TF AND UNLIKE. 167 withdraw into another room for a few moments, or perhaps you could give up your study to us." '( By all means. Remain here, gentlemen, and when you wish my presence, please pull the bell." And immediately Mr. Goodman left the room. "This is rather a bad business, Mr. Bustle." Mr. Bustle did not reply, he merely moved his handker- chief down each side of his smooth face. Mr. Sterling was the speaker. "Mr. Goodman is in a great deal of trouble, and as he has told us that he had sent for you as a friend to communicate with you in reference to his affairs, I feel at liberty, of course, to do so for him, and you know he has lately lost a brother?" "Yes, sir-yes, sir."' "And his affairs are left in a bad condition."' "I know nothing about his affairs. Is it so?"5 "It is so, and that is not the worst of it. Mr. Goodman is involved with them." "You don't say! Not much, I hope." "Not much for you or me-but quite too much for Mr. Goodman. , He has become responsible for his brother to the amount of three thousand dollars." "Three thousand dollars! What made him do it?" Mr. Bustle began to feel better --he spoke with a freer and firmer voice-his mind was evidently somewhat relieved. "The motives which moved him to do it, were no doubt laudable; but if he had known as much of the world as you and I do, Mr. Bustle, and been as well versed in the dangers of such a measure, he would, no doubt, have acted differently. But as the case now stands, he is in a very uncomfortable situation, and neither you nor I, nor even friend Russell, here, can feel very easy, knowing the fact that there is no way in which he can meet his responsibility, but by the sale of his furniture or the sacrifice of what little property his wife brought. The first alternative will hardly accomplish the mat- ter, and that would be very humiliating for us as a people, and the latter will be very trying to him.1" "No doubt--no doubt; it is a sad business-a very sad business all round." "And now I tell you what I think. We three are able to take hold of this matter, and it will be but a drop in the bucket for either of us. Neither Russell nor myself are mem- bers of the church. I wish we both felt worthy to be such 4 page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] jI ) 168 JTKF, AND UNLIKE. but you are one of its officers, and I have reason to think, from what Mr. Goodman says, that you are one of his firm friends." "I do feel friendly-I do indeed; and if at any time" Mr. Sterling, however, did not think best to give- the gen- tleman any opportunity for explanation. "I have no doubt you do, and what I propose is this: we don't want this matter noised round. It will make a great talk; let us do the thing right off, and no more words about it. Let us just take the thing into our own hands. We will share alike in it. We may lose a thousand apiece, but that will be no killing matter to either of us, and we may by man- agement save a good part of it. What say you, Russell?" "I am agreed." Russell would gladly have lost the thousand, just for the pleasure of witnessing the motions of Mr. Bustle at that par- ticular time; his hair certainly was never so smooth before, it fairly shone under the frequent labors of the handkerchief. "I thought you would be. The fact is, it will be worth all the money we shall lose, just to feel that we have taken such a load from the mind of that young man. He is quite a young man yet, Mr. Bustle, and wholly unused to any such trouble ; he has not been through the mill, as you and I have, and we don't want to have him go through ; his responsibilities as a minister, are enough, quite enough, without a load of debt on his shoulders." "That is very true." "And now, Mr.- Bustle, it remains for you to say if this thing shall be done. I know you will not hesitate, when you reflect a moment what a relief it will be to him, and what satisfaction, too, to know that he has such friends." Mr. Bustle was not gifted with a mind that could at once take a wide sweep and look carefully over all the consequences of any course of action; he was too apt to fix his attention on some one of them, arid be governed accordingly. At present he was thinking how well this would look, if it should come to his pastor's ears, that he had taken a prominent part in raising a difficulty. It would show that " he- loved his min- ister, and that what he had done that might be construed differently, was for the good of the church." Mrs. Bustle, and what she would say, unhappily for him, did not come into his mind, not just then. "Well, gentlemen, I shall not be backward in this matter, and as you so nobly offer to do your part, H will join you." l TTRE A-ND UNLIKE. 169 Mr. Russell moved his chair a little ; but it was merely to get out of the sun-he was rather warm. "Thel," said Mr. Sterling, "the thing's a bargain; we will call Mr. Goodman at once, and relieve his mind. And as you, Mr. Bustle, are more intimate with him than we are, and the oldest of the party, we will leave it to you to break the news to him;" and M1r. Sterling at once touched the bell cord. Mr. Bustle seemed by no means decided as to the propriety of the measure, and was about to decline the honor when Mr. Goodman made his appearance, and both gentlemen looked earnestly at Mr. Bustle--as much as to say, " we leave the matter with you." As he seemed somewhat to hesitate, Mr. Sterling remarked : "We have talked over your matter, Mr. Goodman, and Mr. Bustle will make known the result of our deliberations." "Yes, sir; yes, Mr. Goodman, we have talked over this matter, and we think it is a very hard case for you to be in; we are really sorry to have our -minister in any such kind of trouble-very sorry, indeed; and we have concluded to say that we will try and help you out of it." "Oh, sir, I thank you. You are friends, indeed." Fearing Mr. Bustle might not bring the affair to the right conclusion, Mr. Sterling added: "We have concluded, Mr. Goodman, to take the responsi- bility of the amount for which you are implicated on our own shoulders; we will just take your place, and release you from all liability." "Oh, gentlemen! this is beyond all my expectations! May God reward you an hundred fold, not only with his temporal blessings, but the richer blessings of his grace; but it is a severe tax you are laying upon yourselves!" "By no means, sir. We all do it cheerfully, and feel that in so doing we are only manifesting how much we prize your labors among us; and besides, sir, we shall be very likely to secure more for ourselves out of the assets than you would be able to do; and now, sir, let your mind be at rest-that is our 'wish." . They arose, and Mr. Goodman grasped'their hands: "'I feel now that I haye, indeed, fallen among friends, and may God, in his infinite mercy, make my ministry more effective than it has yet been. Oh, gentlemen! I have never yet known the true state of your hearts, but I may hope, may I not, from this manifestation of feeling for a minister of the Gospel, that you are not far from the kingdom of God?" 8 page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 170 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "All I can say is, sir," said Mr. Sterling, "I speak for my- self; I wish I was a great deal better than I am." "I can never hope to repay any of you in kind, but if earn- est prayers for a blessing on you and yours will avail, you shall have them." And then Mr. Goodman took the hand of Mr. Bustle. "My good old friend, I never knew before how much of a friend I had in you; I need your prayers more than you do mine; but I shall never forget this act so long as you and I shall live." Mr. Bustle could not stand this; his feelings in many ways had been excited, and now, to have the man whom he feared he had made his enemy, thus embrace him as a friend, warmed them up to a pitch beyond bris power to control-the old man let the tears come; he could not help it. The three gentle- men had a few words together on the stoop, and then they parted, Mr. Bustle quietly walking toward his own house, and the other two, arm in arm, to theirs. Mr. Russell, and, no doubt, Mr. Sterling also, had thought what a hearty laugh they would enjoy together over the ruse they had played, by which Mr. Bustle had been caught; but all such thoughts had now vanished. "I shall not regret this affair, Russell," said his companion, "even if we lose it all." "Nor I. To feel the grasp of that man's hand, and to see the tear on his cheek, as he tried to thank us, is pay enough for me ; and then, to think how Julia will feel when I tell her. I tell you what it is, Sterling, there is good to be done -with money, besides making a show or feeling independent. "There is so; and there is something in religion after all, in spite of the faults of many who profess it. Bustle is, for all his peculiarities, a man to be respected." "I will never speak against Bustle again. The old man may have got a wrong kink in his mind, but he is sound at heart." They had done a good deed, and their better feelings had been aroused; they have opened a gate through which the true light will more readily enter. Mr. Bustle felt very happy for a Wfhile-much happier than he did when on the way to his pastor's house; but this feel- ing did not last long. As he approached his house, the thought of Mrs. Bustle, 'and what she would say to him, and what he should say to her, camne like a dark and depressing vision, and spoiled his peace. What he should say he could "KE ANtD UNLKE. 171 not determine. But one thing he resolved most firmly, " he should make no more opposition; let things go 'as they might, he would not be against his minister in word or deed." The good deed he had done had re-acted upon himself, and although he may not have done it willingly, yet he had done it-and he felt a friendship for his young minister that was really a source of satisfaction and comfort to his heart. Mrs. Bustle had been out too, and just returned. She had been out to call on some of her widows; but, as usual, she had met with so much querulousness, and as she thought, in- gratitude, that what with talking a great deal and having her feelings touched, and taking a long walk, she felt much the worse for wear. It was unfortunate for Mr. Bustle that she was just in such a worried condition. "Well, my dear, you have got home," said Mr. Bustle, in his pleasantest manner. "Yes; and tired and worried out I am." "Worried! who has worried you?" "You would know if you had to deal with such a set of ingrates and wasteful creatures." "What, the widows!" "Yes, the widows; they are never satisfied. Do what I may, they complain. They act as if we were under obligations to feed and clothe and do everything for them; and they are so wasteful." "That comes of paying too much attention to them. I often tell you that one half of them ought to be taken care of by their relations; and if they were not, many of them, so ill-tempered and ugly, why their friends would no doubt help them more than they do." "You know nothing about it, Mr. Bustle; how should you know? You never visit them." "No, that's true; but I know what human nature is, Peggy. The more you help some folks the more you may." , "I wish, Mr. Bustle, you would stop that. I don't think it's a respectful way of speaking. Suppose I should call you Johnny-how would it sound?" "Oh, well! I thought you liked to be called Peggy." "No, I don't." "Well, then, Margaret." Mr. Bustle had never called her by that name before. "Margaret! you know I do not like the name. I never did like it. You seem to be in a strange humor, Mr. Bustle. page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] ji - 172 LIKE AND UNLIKE. You see I am worried out, and you only want to aggravate me." "Oh, no, no, no; by no means. But what makes you trouble yourself so about the widows? What makes you keep going among them so every week? Why not give them their allowance and let them make the best of it, and growl over it by themselves." "That is just as much as men know about things. Must not I go to see how they spend the money? and that it is not wasted, or given away or spent for things that are not proper; and see to them that are sick, and talk to them- about their souls?" "Oh, well--yes; but I should think once a week was oftener than was necessary-without they are very sick. Are many of them sickly?" "No, they are not sickly; but are we not all liable to sickness?" "That is true; but, just as you please. Only I would not worry myself." "Mr. Bustle, that is a very provoking way you have. When I am a little anxious and try to do my duty, and see to things that properly belong to me, you bring that up. Who is to worry if I don't? You would never worry if the world was to go to ruin and destruction-not you. Some- body must be active and go about, and stir up things and get them righted, or what would become of them? But men are all alike; they never worry themselves; but they don't care how much their wives are worried-not they." , Mr. Bustle perceived that his good woman had got her feelings badly wrought up, and he was not one that cared to keep the fire burning, so he concluded to let the matter drop. He had said more already than he would have said, in the hope that she might be diverted from another topic that he was fearful she would be too ready to bring up. Just then, however, a happy interruption occurred by the entrance of a young lady-a very young lady--and a very pretty one too. She came in smiling, and with a very lively manner. Mrs. Bustle's countenance changed at once; and with a pleasant smile she welcomed her young guest. "Emma,- dear, how do you do, and how is mamma?" "Oh, thank you, Mrs. Bustle, she is very well; and I am so glad you are both at home, for I have an errand to you both; but first I will give my errand to you, Mrs. Bustle. Mamma sends her love to you; and says, she hopes you will "KE AND, UNLIKE. 173 not fail to be at the Sewing Society this evening, for Mrs. Sterne has got a headache and cannot go out; and mamma says that no one but you - and Mrs. Sterne knows anything about cutting out the widows' wrappers and caps-and if you are not there, she does not know what she will do; and you know Mrs. Russell has sent in her resignation, who was very handy about such things. Shall I say you will come?" "By all means, Emma ; but who says Mrs. Russell has left the society?" "Mamma says so. She, you know, is the secretary, and she received a note since the last meeting from Mrs. Russell, saying she could not conveniently give her time at the sew- ing meetings, but she would continue her subscription and would double the amount of it." "Poor Julia! she has her own trials. I know how it is. Russell hates anything that is good; he won't let her go. So it is, Emma, dear, those who wish to do good must suffer for righteousness' sake; but I shall see her, and tell her my mind. She ought not to be hindered in a good work by any man- tell your ma I will certaiqly be there." "And now, Mr. Bustle, I will do my errand to you." "What is it, my darling? No cutting out for me to do, I hope." "Oh, no; but I have come to you to tell me something about my Bible lesson. You see our teacher has given us some questions to answer on the next Sabbath, and I cannot find them out; and mamma told me to come to you, for you no doubt could tell me." "Who is your teacher?" "Mr. Beaufort." "Beaufort! Beaufort! who is he?" "La, Mr. Bustle," said his spouse, ' don't you know it is that boy that lives at Sterling's." And Mrs. Bustle's counte- nance, -as it turned to her husband, was expressive of stern contempt. "Oh, but Mrs. Bustle," replied the lovely girl, " he is not a boy; he is quite a young man, and he is such a delightful teacher! he seems to know everything-he makes it so pleasant." "Oh, no doubt he makes it very pleasant for you young girls," said Mr. Bustle, with a good-natured smile upon his face. "'He laughsand talks with you, and you all have a good time together, no doubt." "Oh, no, Mr. Bustle; he never laughs nor talks with us; page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] 174 LIKE AND UNLIKE. he is just as demure and sober as Mr. Goodman himself. He is very polite, though, and gentlemanly, and ready to answer any questions; but I should not dare to ask him a question-- not in the class. The girls are all crazy to get in our class." "Well, now, what is it you want to know about?" "It is about Herod. He said he could tell tne all about him, but he thought we would remember it better if we searched and found out for ourselves. We have got to tell him which Herod it was that is mentioned as king when Christ was born." "Why, was there more than one Herod-and how does he know there was?" said Mrs. Bustle, rather sharply. Mr. Bustle did not reply-he was thinking. "Oh, yes; he says there were several Herods-and then he wants us to tell him why it was that ' all Jerusalem was troubled with him.'" "What kind of questions for you children to answer!" said Mrs. Bustle, "and what's the use of them? Ah, me! how much better to be learning the Catechism!" "Oh, but Mrs. Bustle, I know the Catechism all by heart, and it is such dull work saying it over and over so often. What is the-use of it, Mrs. Bustle?" "There it is! you see now what I have said all along, Mr. Bustle! These new-fangled doings are driving all the old ways-the good old ways-out of the heads' of the young. Why, Emma, when I was a young girl I said my Catechism every Sabbath day regular as the day came round." "And did you not get dreadfully tired of it?" "Tired of it! Oh, dear me! Well, we shall all see what will come of it! No good, I fear." Mr. Bustle, in the meantime, had been thinking, thinking very hard, and as Mrs. Bustle paused, Miss Emma looked at him, to see if he was ready to answer. "Why, Miss Emma, to tell you the truth, I have never thought about the matter. As you say, there must have been more than one Herod; but how to tell the difference between them is more than I can do-that is, just off hand- and why ' all Jerusalem was troubled with him,' there must - as have been some reason, no doubt. I remember the passage very well; but, if you believe me, it never came into my head to ask why it was." "Mr. Beadfort says we can find out by looking into Scott's ' Commentary or Josephus.' Have you got either of these books?" "KE AND UNLIKE. 175 "Upon my word, we have not. I must get Scott's Bible. Mrs. Bustle, I wish you would remind me when I go down town again about that matter. I should like to look into these things a little, indeed I should." Mrs. Bustle could not help putting a decided sneer upon her countenance, but she made no reply. "I don't know where you will go, Emma, to get theses books, without you call on Mr. Goodman. He, no doubt, has them." "Thank you, sir. I will go there, for I must find out about it somewhere. Mrs. Bustle, then I will tell mamma you will surely be at the Sewing Meeting to-night?" "Oh yes, dear, certainly. I will surely be there." And the pretty girl bade them a pleasant adieu and de- parted. "Now, you see, Mr. Bustle, how this thing works. I want you to look at it. You heard what she said about that young man--boy I call him. But there he is, stuck up at the head of a class-a youngster no one knows anything about; and, as Mrs. Roff says, a very proud, conceited fellow-there he is, teaching these young girls, and gaining an influence over them; they just fools enough to be taken with him, and, no doubt, ready, when they are old enough, to fall in love with him. That girl is in love with him already, or she would not be so anxious about the questions, running here and there, and troubling everybody with curious question of no earthly use." "Oh, may be not. I suppose she is a little ambitious to be, able to answer as well as the rest of them. She is too young to have any such nonsense in her head." "That is as much as you know about it, Mr. Bustle. What do you know about girls? I know all about it. She is all of fourteen years of age; and her family-a most respect- able family, and wealthy, too-tell me I know all about such things. And this young fellow-nobody knows who he is, some country boy; like as not his father a mere common farmer-and he taking the place of a teacher. There is nothing will turn the head of a girl so much as to have a man seem to know ever so much, whether he- does or not. I think it is a dangerous system, and you will see what will come of it." "Well, well, my dear wife, you know it is none of my do- ing; I was no ways forward in the matter." page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] 176 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "But I know who was; and that makes me think-Did you see Goodman to-day?" Mr. Bustle was startled. His hopes had been greatly raised i he did think Mrs. Bustle's other troubles had driven his errand that afternoon from her mind. But no ; the storm had begun, he must meet it as he could. He answered, in a very husky voice: "Yes, yes; I saw Mr. Goodman." "Well, why don't you tell me all about it; or have you gone and told him you. was very sorry for what you had done? ,Like as not you did, or else you wouldn't answer me as you do." 4"That subject was not even mentioned, my dear." "C Not mentioned! What did he want of you, then? To borrow money? I have heard to-day, that if his debts were paid, he'd be bankrupt. He has gone and risked all his wife's property to help his own brother-a shameful thing in him. He has not a cent of his own to lose, for he was as poor as a church mouse before he was called here." "Clergymen are not generally very rich; but where did you hear about it?" "No matter where I heard it. Is it true?" "It is too true." "And whdt is he going to do? He will have to leave now, at any rate. What did he want you to do about it? Did he want to borrow money?" "He never said a word to me about borrowing any money. I suppose he felt he was in trouble, and wanted my advice. He knew that I was acquainted with business, and thought, perhaps, I could give him advice how to act." "I hope you advised him to leave; that is what you ought to have done, when you knew, Mr. Blustle, that there is so much dissatisfaction. I should like dearly to know, now, what you did say to him?" "The fact, is, my dear, I did not have much to say any way. When I got there, I found Mr. Sterling and Mr. Rus- sell both there; and as he had been talking with them, I let them, as being younger men, and in business now, do pretty much all the talking. But there was not a word said about the trouble in the Church; and surely you would not have had me begin about any such thing at such a time.". "Russell and Sterling! and did he send for them too? I think it is very strange! Why not send for his elders? "KE AND UNLIE. 1" They are not members of the Church. He sent for you; why didn't he send for Mr. Raynor or Mr. James?" "That I cannot say. I tell you just how it was--he was in a great deal of trouble." "Well, I guess he will not make much out of Russell, or Sterling either. They are not the men to help a minister. But I am right glad they were there; if you had gone there alone, like as not he'd have asked you plump to lend him money, and you would have been just weak enough to have done it. He has got in, and now let him get out. But now is your time, if ever, to push on this business; there ought not to be a day lost." "Wife, I can't do it-I can't; my conscience will not let me; and if you had seen him, and seen how broken-spirited he looks, and how much he feels this trouble about giving his name, you would say so too. No, no; let us have some charity. I can't tread on a man when he is down-I can't do it." "That is just what I have thought, Mr. Bustle; you are not fit for your station. It is not the man we are fight- ing against, and it is not for our own benefit; it is for the truth-it is for the good of the Church; the interests of the Church are of more consequence than the feelings of any man." "No doubt of that; and yet how would I feel, and how would you feel, if by urging on this thing now, just when he has got this new trouble upon him-and he a young man too, and not very strong at the best--we should be the means of breaking him down, and possibly the cause of his death. You would feel bad--I know you would. No, no; let us, dear wife, be merciful." Mrs. Bustle's bad feelings -had now about worn themselves out; and, perhaps, hopeless of getting her husband to do what she wished, concluded to drop the subject, at least for the present. "Mr. Bustle, you will come for me this evening?" "Oh, certainly, certainly." "They will want you, you know, to close the meeting. I must go and get ready a little before tea. Ah! dear me, that walk was a'most too much for me." "Why did you-not take the carriage?" "Oh, well, I don't like much going in the carriage, and calling round at those poor places. They would think I was proud, or very rich, and able to do more than I do for them 8* page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] l'i 5 LIKE AND UNLIKE. , now. No; I don't mind working as long as I am able- ' better to wear out than rust out. " And Mrs. Bustle, very much to the relief of her husband, went off to get herself ready for the evening's exercises. She had evidently softened down a good deal, and Mr. Bustle's mind was greatly relieved. He had gone through the ordeal most happily, and had been able to answer her questions without committing himself. And he did not mean to com- mit himself as to his doings that afternoon, if he could help it. CHAPTER IX. "WHAT a fellow you are, James Beaufort-forever at -your books!" "Ah, Junius! I am glad to see you. Why have you not been here for so long a time?" "Oh, well, I have so many engagements, you see. But what a pleasant place you have got here! I should not know the old office." It was indeed a pleasant place, and had been fitted up, with the consent of Mr. Sterling, by James himself. James had now become something more than a mere clerk to Mr. and Mrs. Sterling. His- steady deportment, his efficiency in business, his pleasant, respectful manner in the family, and the deep interest he took in all their affairs, had won their confidence and love. At his suggestion, Mr. Sterling had been induced to have -his office, which had hitherto been a very plain concern, put into a different shape. A neat carpet covered the floor; the old broken grate was replaced by a new one, the face of which was highly polished; the wood- work well painted; the desk varnished, and the rough baize covering substituted by one of fine green cloth; and an easy arm-chair, at Mr. Sterling's secretary, replaced the old creak- ing seat he so long occupied. It was now a room in which one could feel at home, and James took great pride in keep- ing it in the neatest condition. As the winter set in, James spent a portion of each even- ing there, for the purpose of improvement. He could pursue his reading or studies more advantageously than in the JITKF; AND UNLIKE. " 179 parlor, where he would be liable to interruption from com- pany. "Do you not think," said James, in reply to Junius, " that it is improved?" "Improved! it looks grandly-one of the snuggest boxes I know of. I wish I had as pretty and quiet aspot to be alone in. I think I should like to read, too. Btt at home there is so much going on, all the time, there is no opportu- nity to read, if one wanted to. But why did you not come to our meeting last Saturday? We had six or eight of the fellows in, and we sat there until ten o'clock." "Well, to tell you the truth, Junius, I did not feel like it. The last meeting I attended did not seem to me a very profitable way of spending time. I do not fancy suchdiscus- "Oh, but that is the way to get out the truth." "It might possibly be, if those who were there had been older perisons, and more capable of bringing forth passages of Scripture to substantiate their positions. And then I think but little good is obtained from arguing on difficult points. The doctrine of election, which was up that evening, is a doc- trine, no doubt, revealed in the Scriptures; but when persons of no greater knowledge than you and I take decided stands some for and some against it; some trying to prove that if it is true, 'the offer of salvation to all is a mockery;' and others trying to prove 'that if it is not true, God takes no care of his children, and does not know whether any will be saved or not,' it seems to me to be handling delicate subjects rudely. I do not like it; and you will excuse me for saying so. And I think some of the expressions of the young men were quite too rash-they chilled me-they seemed almost blasphemous." "Oh, well, I guess you are a little too sensitive. Now, for my part, I go for it strong. I have been reading Top- lady; have you ever read it?" "'No; nor do I wish to read him." "Why not-not afraid, I hope? He makes a strong case "Very likely he does. But, to tell you the truth, Junius, I do not intend to hang my faith upon what any man says, so long as I have the Bible to go to."' "But he quotes the Bible. The book is full of it." That may all be; and yet the arguments may not seem so plain as when you read the same passages in their connection. page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] 180 LIKE ANSD UNLIKE. The doctrine, as I'learn it from the Scriptures, seems to me very different from the same doctrine when condensed into a dogma or creed. In the one case, I am ready to receive it, and submit to it. In the other, my mind revolts at it. I can hardly tell you why it is so; but that is the effect upon me. And I think too much is said on these subjects at present; I hear people talking about them, and in great ear- nest, too, and even getting out of humor with one another, when I think they would do better by trying to carry out the principles of the Scriptures by a correct life. This arguing on abstruse doctrines has the same effect as many of the benevolent operations of the day. It is easier to work and to dispute, than it is to keep one's heart right." "I guess I know where you have got your lesson from. I know Aunt Sterling thinks just so." "6 Well, I am not conscious of ever having heard her ex- press an opinion, one way or the other, on that point; but I must say I should not be ashamed to confess that I had taken my lesson from her. I know of no one who shows so much of the true Christian, all the time, as she does." "Yes, I know she is a good woman; but if all ladies were to do as she does, what would become of things? She is not active; that you must know." "She is not--in the way that many are. But she is ever ready to do good, as she has opportunity. She seems to me to love the cause of truth most heartily. And all who know her, and see how she lives, and what a lovely temper she manifests, and how conscientious she is in everything, and how correct her judgment is, and how happy she makes every one around her, rich or poor, must feel--they cannot help it -that she is not an inactive Christian. Her idea is, I know, that a lady's great work is at home." "Well, I hope Matilda will be as good at-home, and more active abroad. She is a good deal like her mother; but I think she will take a higher stand than ever Aunt Sterling has. Do you know she is coming home next week?" "I have heard so." "And I am glad, I can tell you. I miss her awfully. And that makes me think; Mary, whenever she has written to me, has sent her remembrance to -you; I ought to have told you, but I am very careless about such matters. But what is it you are at, with so many books about you? What are you studying?' "I am at several things. That book you have taken up is "KE AND UNLIKE. 181 my French Testament. I read in that a little every evening, and then a little in 'Telemachus ;' and then I read a chapter in Russell's 'Modern Europe;' and after that take up my Bible lesson." "Aye, aye, my boy; that reminds me what I heard the other day. All the girls in your class are getting in love with you, and some of the old women are quite alarmed." "I am sorry that any one should disquiet themselves on that account. I presume the young ladies would not feel much flattered, should they hear of it." "Old women, you know, are always suspicious; but it is a fact about the girls, they do nothing but talk about you. I almost wish I had a class." "Will you take mine?" "Me? What could I do with them? They would laugh in my face; I frolick too much with them. And, besides, I need rather to be in a class myself. How is it, James, that you have learned so much about the Bible?" "I have not learned much; I know very little about it, but I like to study it. I find there is so much to learn, how- ever, that sometimes I feel discouraged." "What is there to learn so much, except what you can learn from commentaries?" "TWell, there are many things. In the first place, I want to know all about the manners and customs of the Jews, and of the nations they had most to do with-the Egyptians, Syrians, Greeks, and Romans. There are many allusions to customs which, from my ignorance of them, some passages do ilot appear plain. Then, I should like to be acquainted with ancient geography; both physical geography and that which defines the different countries of that period." "' And do you mean to study all these?" "I am studying them now. Mrs. Sterling, you know, has very kindly made me a present of Prideaux's ' Commentaries,' and also a Scripture atlas, and she has ordered for me a work published in England, called 'IlHorne's Introduction to the Study of the Scriptures.' They say it is a very valuable work." "When will you get time to go through all these books?" L I have my evenings, you know." "But I should think you would get so tired, being all day at the desk and running about on business, you would want to rest." "Oh, it rests me to take a book." \ - page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 182 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "Yes, it might, some amusing book; but I should think these things would be rather dry reading; and, then, you ought to go out more, you ought to go into company, you will get stiff, if you don't." "Time enough for that, yet. The fact is, Junins, if I don't apply myself-now, and store my mind with some kind of knowledge, I shall never be able to do it. I have a grand chance now; I have no care of business on my mind, and nothing to divert or hinder me; by and by it may be diffe- rent; and don't you think we can be more useful the more knowledge we get?" I don't know but we can; but it depends more upon a man's talents than anything else. Now, there is Talbot- you know him, you have heard him speak in meeting-that fellow makes himself useful; but I guess he does not read much, he can't have time, he is all the while attending meet- ings." g"I have heard him speak; he has a good flow of words; but if you have noticed, his remarks are very common-place, and he has a habit of repeating the same idea almost so much as to spoil the force of his remarks. I understand he intends going into the ministry. If he means to succeed there, he will be obliged to study, or he will run himself out. Some- times I have thought it was a misfortune that he could speak so rapidly; it will be a temptation to him to neglect the pro- per preparation for future usefulness. I only expect to do good in a small way; but I am very sure my mind ought to be stored with knowledge in order to do that. I can per- ceive, already, that the little I have acquired enables me to impart information to my class on subjects they have possibly never thought of, and no doubt they think I know more than I really do; but I mean to try and keep ahead of them." "They think you know everything; and I tell you what it is, my boy, you stand a grand chance with these girls--they are the pick of the congregation." "I hope you do not think so little of me, Junius, as to sup- pose I have any such thought. I am glad to have their respect, for then I may do them some good. Beyond that, I have no desire." "You are a queer fellow, James, I must say. One thing I know, if I were in your place, I should be getting in love with the prettiest and richest girl among them. No I shouldn't, either, without somebody else was one of them. But, why have you given up your meeting at Dinah's?" "KE AND UNLIKE. 183 "The meeting is not given up." "But you don't conduct it." "No; that is true. The fact is, Junius, I am not yet com- petent for such a task. I could, no doubt, say a few things to the poor blacks that first came in, but the meeting began to grow so large, and so many white people came to it, I felt that they needed a proper teacher, and so I persuaded Mr. Wyckoff, one of our elders, a man well educated, and every way qualified for such a task, to take charge of'it; and I think he is doing real good there. I attend-principally for the pur- pose of leading the singing, and to please old Dinah, she seems always so glad to see me." 1"Well, I have reason to think well of that place; I shall never forget the first evening I was there; but some how, James, I don't feel as I did then-I wish I did." Junius had now touched upon a topic that James most ardently wished' to bring up, but knew not well how to do it. "In what way, Junius, have your feelings changed?" "Oh, well, I don't feel as I did; I am not as happy as I was then; but I suppose that is what I must expect" "Why so-why should you expect it?" "Oh, well, you know everybody says that is the way- that one cannot always expect to have the same feelings they had at first-that is what my mother has told me, and others have told me so; Mrs. Bustle told me so the first time I con- versed with her." "I do not like, Junius, to contradict older persons, espe- cially such as you have named; but it seems to me that those who say such things to young Christians, do not realize how much evil such sentiments may produce. I can find no inti- mation of such a necessity in the Sciliptures, but quite the contrary. It seems clear to me, that those ' who wait upon the Lord, will grow stronger and stronger;' that the Lord will be with us while we be with him." "Yes; but is it not common for Christians to lose their first love?" "No doubt it is common, and many never regain it. But is it necessary? Was not a charge brought against one of the old churches for doing so? And are there not many pro- mises that prove to us if we cling to the Lord, He will. keep near to us? If any man keep my commandments, my Father will love him, and we will come unto him and make our abode with him--' Behold I stand at the door and page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] :184 LIKE AND UNLIKE. knock; if any man open the door I will enter in and sup with him, and he with me.' " Junius was silent--he leaned his head on his hand, and seemed to feel what was said. "Junius, if you will let me, perhaps I can tell you where the difficulty lies." "Do, do-tell me anything you please." "I do not wish to wound your feelings, nor do I pretend to be able to direct you aright, but I can only tell you what I think, and what I know from my own experience." (c I promise you I will not be offended at anything you say -I know you are a true friend."' "I believe I have the most friendly feelings, and I know I am diffident about saying anything that relates to your own conduct; but do you not think that the change in your feel- ing has come from the circumstances in which you have been placed, and from the fact that you have been too much under their influence? You are situated very differently from myself; your parents are wealthy, and you have no pressure upon you; your wants are supplied without the necessity on your parefor exertion; you are in your father's store, to be sure, but you are not tied down to a daily round of duty; you go when you please and where you please." "That is true ; I often think of it, that I feel under no necessity for- working much, and I know that is bad. I am naturally averse to confinement to any given task, and many times I feel unhappy at the end of the day, because I have accomplished so little." "And you cannot conscientiously ask God's blessing upon the labors of the day?" "Yes; there you have it." "I find that for me to be happy, I must not only ask to be assisted in what I have to do through the day, but I must be so faithful in doing all my work, that at night I can pray for a blessing on what I have done." "You are right. In fact, James, I have hardly dared to ask for assistance, when I felt conscious that I was probably going .to spend a great part of the day in no very profitable manner. "Perhaps with companions that cared nothing for reli- gion?' "Yes; there has been, I fear, another evil." "I have been afraid of that, too, Junius, and I am glad that you are sensible of it. I fear many of your companions , "KE AND UNLIKE 185 are such as would be very likely to draw your mind away fi'om serious things. You and I are not old enough yet, nor sufficiently established in our principles, to be able to risk ourselves by being too intimate with those who think lightly of religion. We want all the light we can have from kind, judicious, and faithful Christian company." "But it is hard to give up all my companions." "Perhaps you need not do that. But suppose you should, in the first place, take upon yourself such a department in your father's store as would demand all your time through the day, and make a conscience of devoting your energies to it? My idea is, that if the business is a lawful one in which we are engaged, we ought to attend to it strictly, and let our minds be upon it. Then, suppose you should fix your mind upon some study, and resolve to spend an hour every even- ing In that way, and be regular and conscientious at it? You would then, by degrees, learn to be independent of company, and your companions, finding you so constantly engaged, would, in time, cease to trouble you." "Yes, no doubt that would be a good way; but a body must have associates. We are not commanded not to mingle ' with the world." "That is true, if we can do so and let our light shine among them. If you can keep alive your better feelings and always act the Christian among them, there would, indeed, be no occasion for withdrawing." "I guess I have not much light to boast of, at any rate. Oh, dear me, James, it is easier to know what is right than to do it; but I will try. Now, what shall I study? The Bible, I suppose you will say." "Oh, no, not altogether, unless you wish to ; but you must read it and study it enough to find out what you are to believe and what you are to do. But, after all, a proper study of the Bible will lead into such a variety of subjects, that it seems to me there can be no better foundation for one to begin upon for the mere improvement and enlargement of the mind. This new arrangement, also, in reference to Sab- bath-schools, offers a grand chance for all persons who wish to do good to have work. Only to think! all the youth of our congregation are in time to be under this kind of instruc- tion; and proper teachers will be needed, and every young man, well qualified for such a place, can have a class of those who are younger than himself. What a stimulus that will be to study! Not only that, but what a help to one to main- page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 186 LIKE AND UNLIKE. tain a falr standing for Christian character and Christian courtesy; for no doubt such things are of great consequence for a teacher; it seems to me one of the very best things that good people have ever thought of." "Oh, dear me, James! you have got a long head; now such an idea has never got into mine, but you know I don't think much. I believe you are right, though, only if I could bring myself to knuckle down to the business in earnest, as you do. But you 'see you have got an old head on young shoulders." "Not very old, you would think, if you knew all the fool- ish things that come into it sometimes." "I tell you what it is, James, you are finely situated for going on just as you do. You have got a grand situation here. No one in the house to trouble you ; no sisters to call you off, and want you to walk with them, or go with them to parties, and no host of fellows calling in and whirling you off to some amusement or other. Then you are cock of the roost, up stairs and down; for uncle and aunt think so much of you, they would do anything you wish, just as much as if you was their own son. You have everything to help you." "I know, Junius, I am most pleasantly situated, and that I am treated in the kindest manner, and that your uncle and aunt both are more like parents to me than anything else; but then I have to keep in mind that everything depends upon my own exertions. I have got to make myself. I have, besides, a mother and two sisters, who are dependent upon my exertions for support. I have to deny myself constantly, to save all I can for them. I have to feel that when I come of age, I have no wealthy father to advance me a capital to begin for myself; and if I should be taken away, my mother and sisters would be obliged to do something-what, I don't know-for their own support. You have no care of this kind, and have only to resist a few temptations to pleasure. You can go on and improve yourself in every way, and can leave all care about your future establishment to your parents. I think you are very happily situated." "Well, I suppose I am. One thing, I wish that I/was living here with you; I should then, I know, be better than I am. We could work together, and study together, and talk together, and your talks always do me good; at the same time I feel clear down-hearted when I leave you." "Why so?" "KE AND UNLTKE. 187 "Oh, because I see such a difference between what I am and what I ought to be." "Allow me, Junius, to say one thing more. I would not, if I were you, be much engaged in disputations on doctrinal points; that meeting of young men you attend, might be turned into a very profitable one, if you would take up prac- tical subjects; subjects that are plain, such as relate to Christian character, and the different traits of character; examining some portion of Scripture together that unfolds our duty as Christians, and pray together. Is there not too much trifling, do you not think?" "Trifling! how? We laugh sometimes; no harm in that, is there?" "Oh, there is no harm in laughing at proper times, of course; but it seemed to me that the subjects which caused some laughter the evening I was there, were not just the things to be merry over. You know some told their experi- ence, and seemed disposed to do it in a way that was calcu- lated to excite laughter in one that had a sense of the ridicu- lous. Religion is a serious matter, and the work of the Spirit upon the heart is a real work and a great work, which should excite our gratitude, but not our mirth. I must say I re- joiced you did not do anything of the kind, yourself, and I have but little respect for the piety of those who were able to speak of their change of heart, and the circumstances attend- ing it, with so little feeling of the right kind. You noticed, no doubt, what I allude to." "Yes, I did. I did not fancvy it ; but you see, they are fellows that have had but a low family education. They were ignorant; I guess they meant well." "No doubt they thought it all well enough, and that good was done by what they called 'their experience ;' but do you think the relation that was made that evening had a ten- dency to strengthen your religious principles, or to quicken you to duty? Do you not think, that if you and I had spent the evening together, examining some passage of Scripture, opening our hearts to each other in a serious, prayerful man- ner, and playing over what we had been talking about, we should both have been more improved, and been, at the close, much happier?" "James, would you have any objections to my coming here, say three evenings in the week, studying with you? Will it put you out?", '.By no means ; I wish you would come every evening- page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] Iii 188 LIKE AND UNLIKE. that is, every evening when I am in. You know Thursday evening is our church meeting, Saturday evening I go to Aunt Dinah's." '"I will, then. And I don't mean to have many compan- ions besides you, after this. I know I shall be happier to do as you say, and I mean this very night to ask papa to give me a department in the store that I can fill. I mean to go to ,work." CHAPTER X. "AH! my good fellow, you are here before me!" James Beaufort turned as Junius spoke. "How are you? What a lovely morning!" It was indeed a lovely morning, one of April's best. Thle sun was just rising, as could be seen by his bright beams gilding the hill tops on the Jersey shore, the river which lay before them smooth as a mirror, and the vast panorama of country beyond, just green enough to show that nature was rising from her wintry grave and putting forth her new life. The two young men were standing at the extremity of a long pier, at the foot of Courtlandt street, surrounded by quite a little crowd of people-hackmen, cartmen, and friends of expected passengers in the steamboat from Albany, just then nearing the dock. James had been there for some time, watching with no little impatience the slow progress of the vessel whose smoke and unsightly hulk could be seen for miles up the river from the standpoint he was occupying. He had come at the request of Mr. Sterling, to meet Matilda, and escort her home. And it must be said that the errand was one he entered upon with all his heart ; for he not only sympathized with his patrons in their anxiety to embrace once again their loved one, who had now been absent nine months, but had some little feeling on his own account. She had left a very pleasant impression upon him by her kind treatment during the short period he had enjoyed her society previous to her departure from home, and might reasonably anticipate with pleasure a renewal of their intercourse. His natural gallantry, also, was aroused by the honor which he "KE AND UNLIKE. 189 considered as conferred upon him by his commission, and he had therefore arrayed himself in his best, for he could not tell what nine months had done in changing the artless girl into a young lady who might be somewhat scrupulous at being waited on by one- not in the garb of a gentleman. Quite a collection of ladies could now be seen gathered on the deck of the steamer, near the after cabin. "I think I see your sister," said James to his companion. "Do you! Where? Oh, yes; I see she waves her handkerchief. And there is Matilda! Why don't you bow to them?" Junius was then waving his hat. James made no demon- stration beyond merely raising his hat and at once replacing it, and he noticed that Miss Matilda did not appear to recog- nize him ; for while Miss Mary smiletd very graciously, the former merely glanced her eye at him and then fixed it on her cousin Junius, saluting him not only with a smile, but with a wave of her handkerchief. It was a small matter, but trifling as it was, it brought a cloud over the mind of James. His elated spirits at once drooped. But hs errand must be performed ; so, turning to Juniuu: "If you will go on board, Junius and let your cousin know that I am here, I will- go and bring a hack." "Oh, but man, I have engaged a hack already, for both of them. No, no,; you won't cheat me out of my ride." "But my orders were to procure a hack for Miss Sterling 'and her baggage." "Never mind about the orders. They can just as well ride together, and I know they will prefer it." James colored slightly, and was in doubt for a moment what course to pursue ; at length he concluded he would de- liver his errand to Miss Sterling, and let her decide. The moment the plank was run out, Junius rushed on board. James followed a little in the rear. Miss Mary Roff at once approached him and gave her hand. She seemed somewhat excited, and as James made his obeisance to Miss Matilda, kept her eye fixed on him. She was evidently sur- prised, her countenance manifested it; it said very plainly: "I- How he has grown! How much improved! How well he looks!" Matilda's greeting was somewhat reserved, perhaps caused by the stiffness of his salutation. The color rose to her cheek also, whether from surprise at his altered appearance, or the coldness of his- address, is uncertain. page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] :, II "KE AND UNLIKE. "Miss Sterling,'" said James; there was more tremor to his voice than he could have wished,-but he could not help it-altogether he felt very uncomfortable--' your father re- quested me, if you were on board, to procure a carriage for you. Shall I do so now?" "Oh, certainly; as soon as you please." c' No, no, Matilda!" said Miss Mary; "we are all to ride together. Junius has engaged a hack and has gone to bring t Matilda looked at James, intimating her wish that he should decide. "That must be just as you shall say, Miss Sterling." "It is immaterial to me; but perhaps you had better do as papa has said." "Now, Matilda!" said Mary in great earnestness; "I say it is all filed; we can all ride together. The carriage can as well carry four as two. Now do let it be so." Matilda again looked at James for an answer. "Consult your own feelings, entirely, Miss Sterling, I must leave it with you to decide." "Well, as Mary seems to insist upon it, perhaps we may as well all go together." James bowed in acquiescence, and as Junius came up in great haste and offered his arm to Matilda, James did the same to Miss Mary, and they were soon at the carriage. The moment the ladies were seated, Junius sprang in, and James closing the door, made his bow, and was about to depart. "But you will get in?" said Miss Mary; "there is plenty of room." ' Come in, old boy!" said Junius; "room enough. Come in." "Thank you, I prefer walking!' and before anything further could be said, he walked off at a quick step. Matilda would have spoken. She did say, as plainly as looks could do so, "Please come in," but for some reason she could not utter the words ,in fact, her feelings were all at once deeply agitated. How provoking it is '!" said Miss Mary; "what can be the matter, Junius? You have tried his feelings some "Me! No-what have I done? You know he is such a fellow to obey orders, that I suppose he feels put out that I did not let him hire a carriage, as Uncle Sterling told him to -but there was no use in it." "KE AND'- UNLIKE. 191 "I fear, then, it was my fault," said Matilda; "I noticed that he was somewhat agitated. Oh, I am so sorry!" "So am I," said Mary; "I thought to be sure he would ride with us, or I should not have proposed it; and I think, Junius, you forgot your politeness in jumping in so quickly yourself. If I had been in your place I should not have done So." "Oh, pshaw! never mind; I know James, he is a good fellow, but he is quick as a flash--he will soon be over it." "He is very sensitive ; and on that account you ought to be more careful. I shall apologize to him the first opportu- nity I have." "What is the use, sis, of making such a fuss about it? He had rather walk-I know he would." Miss Mary, however, did not enjoy her ride, and for the rest of the way left Junius and Matilda to do all the talking; the latter merely replying in as few words as possible to her cousin's remarks or questions. Junius left his sister at their house, in Broadway, and then acccompanied Matilda to his uncle's. Amid the joyful greet-- ings between the child and her parents, no notice was taken of the fact that Junius instead of James had brought her to her home; but a few moments thereafter Mrs. Sterling asked Matilda, "Then James did not get there time enough; you have not seen him?" "Oh, yes, mamma, he was there when we came in; but Mary was so anxious to have us all ride together, that she and Junius would not hear to our having another carriage." "But how is it James did not ride with you?" "He seemed to prefer walking; we could not persuade him to get in. I almost fear, for some reason, he was offended; but I cannot tell why." "I should be sorry if anything should have been done to -wound his feelings ; he is very sensitive." At that moment the breakfast bell rung, and as James heard it, having just entered the house, he came in without making any change in his dress, and Mrs. Sterling took notice of the fact that he was arrayed in his best, and at once it occurred to her he had done so for the sake of Matilda. He had anticipated the pleasure of waiting upon her, and of course must have had some reason for leaving her to the care of others; and wishing to soothe his feelings, if, indeed, they had been wounded, she playfully said, page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] th 1" ai:d j' 192 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "So, this young lady gave you the slip." "I believe it was unintentional on the part of Miss Ster- ling." Matilda felt much relieved and truly grateful for his reply; it touched her heart in a way that James could have no idea of. He had, by his walk, lost some unpleasant feeling, and was himself again. But Matilda was resolved not thus to let the matter pass, and on the first favorable opportunity to have an explanation, or at least to let him know that she had not designed to injure his feelings, if, indeed, they had been tried. A servant now entered, and said that a young man was at the door, and wished to see Mr. James Beaufort; he there- fore arose and left the room. "Pool' James!" said Mrs. Sterling, " he has got to suffer much before he gets through life; his feelings are all alive. Now, I have no doubt, from what you have told me, Matilda, that he has been tried by Junius. He, no doubt, felt that it was his privilege to wait upon you in particular. You see he has dressed himself in his best, and I think it likely felt some- what chagrined at his disappointment." "I know I should," said Mr. Sterling; " but young men have to take such rubs." "I think more of it, because he is so disposed to keep his right place. He never puts himself forward, and never takes advantage of attention paid to him. He has been a great com- fort to us this winter; ready to do anything that is wanted, and treat him ever so familiarly, he never loses his respectful bearing toward any of us." "He has grown very much," said Matilda; c" in fact, I did not at first sight recognize him. I think, too, he has grown rather stiff and formal. He came up to me in such a distant way, calling me Miss Sterling, and bowing as formally as if he was for the first time introduced. I didn't know what to make of it." "Perhaps you were a little formal, too. You say you hardly recognized him; but he has not altered, I think you will find-that is, for the worse." "Mary thinks he has altered wonderfully; but she thinks he feels of much more consequence than he used to." 6 And well he may, my darling," said Mr. Sterling; ".a young man that, at his age, can by his honest- earnings sup- port a mother and sisters, and himself, too, and behave with "KE AND UNLIKE. 193 as much propriety, and command the respect of all who come in contact with him, has a right to hold his head up." James had never forgotten the young farmer who treated him so kindly when on his journey to New York. Occasion- ally he had sent him a paper, and one or two letters had passed between them; and James had, with the consent of Mrs. Sterling, invited him, when he could conveniently leave his home, to make him a visit, and -he would show him the wonders of the great city. When James, therefore, on coming down stairs, saw him standing in the hall, he gave him a co'- dial reception, and invited him at once to go up and be introduced to the family. ' "' Oh, no, thank you; I have come down for a very diffe- rent purpose; I amr in a great deal of trouble." And then the young man had to pause; his lip trembled, and James saw that he was greatlykexcited. -"Can I help you? Can I do anything for you?" I am a perfect stranger here, you know, but I had your address, and I thought you might help me to find a police officer. "I can; but for what purpose do you want one?" I want to find--to find my sister " The tears now started freely and ran down his bronzed cheek. "What, your little sister, the one I saw at your house?" The same; she has been inticed away by a great villain, as we have every reason to think. Do you remember our meeting a well-dressed young man while riding together? and imy saying to you I did not fancy him, and that I did not like his calling so often at our house?" "Yes; I remember that Circumstance, and I remember the young man, and I have seen him several times in the city." "Oh, have you? Where? Do you know where to find "I do not; but I know where the house is that I have seen him come out of, twice at least." " Can you go and help me?" I will see." James ran up stairs, and in- a few moments returned, and the two young men started in pursuit of an officer. While on the way, the young man had time to give lim the particulars. "I told you at the time, you will remember, that I did not ancy the young man; there had been a good many ugly stories In circulation about his doings, and I did not care to be :ltimate with him, nor to have him so often at our house, , 9 page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] I i j I f tjli t III: E 194 LIKE AND UNLIKE, and told nly mother how I felt about it. For a time she could not think as I did, but after a while she began to sus- pect something was-wronlg, and finally requested him to dis- continue his visits. My sister thought it was very hard, and we both perceived-thlat she had become attached to him. He was very rich, and we comparatively poolr, and my mother and myself both knew that his parents would never consent to his marrying among such plain folks as we were-thouoh we feel as good as they alre, any day. This run on so for about two months. Whether my sister saw him or not we did not know, but she said nothing about him. We have heard since, however, that not a week ago they were seen talking together; and the day she left home she was seen with him, and there call be no doubt she has come away with himn." The officer they were in search of was happily at home, and all three were soon on their way to Leonard street. "Is this the house?" said Bowman, the officer. "This, is the house," James replied, "I have seen him several times come out of." "Ah, he is a great villain!" and Bowman immediately ascended the stoop, and opening the front door took his stand one or two steps within, and knocked loudly. A young woman made her appearlance, and was evidently much alarmed at sight of the officer. "I want Somerindyke-is he in?" "He don't live here." "I know that-that was not the question I asked. Is he in?" No"No, he is not." "Where is the young girl he brought here yesterday? And saying so, Bowman immediately entered the room by the door at which the young woman, was standing. Another young woman stood there, much more bold in appearance, and with a stern voice demanded, "What's wanting?" "Gentlemen," said the officer, "stand here, and watch that no one leaves these premises, while I search the house." The two girls, in the meanwhile, whispered to each other, and then one of them called out, "You needn't search, sir; she ain't here." "Where is she, then?" "How can we tell?" "I will find a way to make you tell. You may as well I' ' t * "KE AND UNLIKE. 195 be putting your duds on, for you and I have a walk to take," "Oh, please, Mr. Bowman," and the girl who spoke advanced toward him and began to cry bitterly, upon my sacred word, we don't know where she is- indeed we don't. She went off somewhere last evening before Mr. Somerin- dyke came in, and he has been hunting for her all over. It is the living truth-just as true as I am a living person." The young man, Rushton, on hearing this, was deeply agi- tated; his hands were grasped tightly together, and his coun- tenance manifested great agony. "Oh, let us go," he said to the officer, "and look some- where else-let us go quick." "Keep quiet-we don't leave them so-she has been here, they confess it; and if they don't tell us where she is, I shall put the screws on- them in less than no time. A turn in State prison won't hurt them any. Do you stand here, both of you, as I said, and see that no one leaves the premises." And saying so, he left them and proceeded to search the house, one of the girls, in the meantime, weeping aloud and pro- testing that she was innocent, and knew nothing about her. James could not bear to see anything in the shape of woman in such trouble, and he stepped up to her. "Had you not better tell at once all about it?"I "I would if I knew, even if it cost me my life; but I don't know. A girl came here yesterday, about the middle of the forenoon-Somerindyke brought her here, and wanted us to treat her kindly until he came back; but she seemed-to be frightened, and do what we could, we could not get her hardly to speak a word. We left her a few moments in another room, and that's the last we saw of her. It's the living truth, so it is." Mr. Bowman was about to-descend the stairs into the lower apartment of the house, when he found standing there an elderly woman; and as- soon as she saw him, she pro- sceeded down the stairs, beckoning to him, but saying nothing. When they had reached the lower room, she spoke, but scarcely above her breath. "You are looking for a young girl?" "We are." "You see, I heard a noise up stairs, and I just went up to listen. Don't, for, the life of me, say nothing; but the young girl is safe." page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] LIKE AND UNLIKE. "Where is she?" "I will tell you all about it; but you won't let any of them know I told you. They will all but kill me." "All I want is to find the girl. I shall not tell of you, if you have done no wrong." "Well, I will tell-you. Yesterday, about noon, I happened to be up stairs, and I heard some one crying in the back room; and so I opened the door, and there sat a poor young thing, a trembling like a leaf, a'most distracted with fright. 'What's the matter on you,' I asked. 'Oh,' said she, 'I want to get out of this house; but I am a stranger, and no- body knows me, and I don't know where to go.' 'Aint you no friends in the city?' I said. 'No,' she said: 'I live in the country; and came here with a young man, who promised to marry me, and said he had a fine house all ready for me to go into; but I don't believe now he means any such thing; and I want to get away-I want to get home.' "Well, what to do I didn't know; but I thought I would try and help the poor young thing. So I told her to come with me, and I'd try to get her out of harm's way; and down she came with me here; but what to do with her here I did not know, for when the man came in I knew he would be searching all round the house; so I thought of Aunt Dinah, next door, but I had to watch my chance to get her there; and there she is." "Who is Aunt Dinah?" "Oh, she is a colored woman what lives next door, a good soul, and a Christian woman. But I am so glad you have come; for I've been on a tremble all day for fear they-might have seen me take her there; and- she, being all alone so, what could she do? But you won't tell 'em up stairs; it will be the death of me if you do." Mr. Bowman assured her that he would carefully preserve her secret, and proceeded at once into the upper stories of the house. This he did in performance of his promise. He wished to let them believe he had learned nothing below. Taking a slight look into each room, he descended to where he had left his companions. "She is not here." I told you so," said one of the girls, again beginning to weep. "We don't know nothing about her." Well, I shall search the neighborhood; but I shall- know where to find you if we do not come across her, so rest assured of that. When will Somerindyke be here?" , "KE AND UNLIKE. 197 "We don't know.") '"Where does he live?" "We don't know that either." "Well, well, my ladies, I shan't leave the sight of this house until you and he are where you ought to be; mind that.9" "I don't care-what becomes of me," said the one who ap- parently was the younger of the two, and had been weeping. ' I wish I was dead! that I do." "Jane, you are a great fool,:" said the elder one. ," I know I am a wicked fool; but I wish I was in my grave, it would be better for me." "I believe it would," the officer replied-" perhaps better if you had been there long ago. But why do you stay here- then?" The girl again broke into apassionate outcry. "Where can I go to? Oh, if I knew where to go!"- "Jane, Jane, hush! What a fool you are, making a baby of yourself. He can but do as he says, and put us in the lock-up. Who cares? I don't." "I don't care so much for that. I don't care if I do go there. Anywhere to get away from here." The officer was in haste, as well as those who were with him; and yet some things the young girl had said touched his heart: he knew what she said was true. Every decent house would be shut against the poor lost creature, even if her present feelings were genuine. He pitied her case, but knew no remedy. He looked at her ajnoment, and then led the way out. As they entered the house of old Dinah, she was somewhat alarmed, until she beheld James Beaufort; when, putting up both hands, she exclaimed: "The Lord be praised!" "( What is it, Aunt Dinah?" "Oh, I am so glad to see the blessed face of somebody or other that I know-; for I've been in the greatest trouble any poor soul ever was. But come in, gentlemen." "I understand you have a young girl under your care, my old lady, and we want to see her. You have no objections, I suppose." Not if that young gentleman says so," pointing to James. "By all means," said James. "Then you shall." The officer motioned to the two young men to go in, as page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] 198. - LIKE AND UNLIKE. Dinah was leading the way into the back room; but James stepped aside when he had reached the door, and allowed his companion to go in alone. Immediately, the young girl, as she saw her brother, rushed to his arms, but could only weep aloud. Nor did he speak, but gave full vent to his feelings in a flood of tears. The tears soon began to run down Aunt Dinah's cheeks in sympathy with the two sufferers. "Don't be troubled," she said, " if so be you are her brother. No harm has come to her as yet, thank the Lord for his mercies! Oh, how good He is!" "Oh, brother!"But the poor girl could say no more. "Never mind now, Janette; you will go right home with me?" "6 Oh, will you take me? Will mother ever forgive me! Oh, I have been so foolish!" "Never fear that," said Aunt Dinah--- never fear for that. Young folks is apt to be foolish and easy persuaded; but mothers can't, nohow, put a child out of their heart-never be feared for that." "No, Janette, you know mother better than that. We will go right home." cI want to tell you-I want to tell you all about it. I never suspected anything until I got here." "I am sure of that. Don't say anything about it. Let -the past go. We will go home this very day." He led her to a chair, saying: "I will be back in a moment, if this good woman will stay with you." "Qh, sartain sure I will. Oh, how good the Lord is! I know your poor mother has been praying for you; for you have been delivered from the jaws of the lion. Oh, praise the Lord, He is so good!" * Neither James nor the officer asked any questions when the young man came back to them. His appearance con- vinced them that the lost lamb had been found. But he had scarcely entered the room when he exclaimed: "There is that villain now!" and he made a rush to the door, but the officer grasped his arm. "Let me go! let me go to him! That is the very fellow -the dirty villain!" "Stop, friend, stop-just hear to me." The man whom he had seen had by this timne reached the next house, and was about to enter. James recognized him at once, and felt al- "KE AND UNLIKE. 199 most indignant at the officer for laying hold of his friend; he was ready himself to rush out with him. "' Stop, I say, and tell me what you want to do." a ' I want to give him his deserts-I want to" "Hear to me. Hear to me, I say. I should like to do it almost as much as you do; he deserves to be beaten within anl inch of his life--no, more than that, he deserves hanging ; it would not be anything'more than he deserves. But what wotuld be the consequence if you should go and make himn feel the weight of your righteous anger.? Like as not I my- self would be compelled to take you up, and instead of mak- ing him suffer you might be put to a great deal of trouble and a good deal of cost." "Can't he be taken up, then-can't he be prosecuted?" "Yes, he can be taken up, but what will the consequence be? You and your sister would be detained here in the city for a long time, and she would be exposed to publicity, ques- tioned and cross-questioned, and tormented, and after all he might possibly be fined; and what would that be to him? No, no, your best way now is to let the matter go. His evil designs have been firustrated." "There he goes again!"--and again he sprang to the door; but now both the officer and James caught him. "You can't catch him now if we should let you go; he has no doubt heard the news, and he is off on the run. Just hear to me; I know more about these matters than you do. When a young fellow has plenty of money, as they say he has, there is not much chance to do anything with him at the law; and to beat him would indeed be a satisfaction; but you would no doubt have to pay dearly for it. Go home, hush the matter up; the least said or done the better, the better for your sister at any rate. Villains must have their way in this world, especially if they are rich villains." As James united his efforts with Mr. Bowman, they to gether succeeded in calming him down into a reasonable state of feeling; and at the request of James a hack was immedi- ately called-the young man concluding if there was no sloop to sail for their village that day to go on board of the steam- boat foi Albany and land at the stopping-place nearest to his home. He opened his purse, took out a bill, and handing it to old Dinah: "There, my good woman, is five dollars. I don't know that you will think it enough to compensate you for your page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] 200 LInKE AND UNLIKE. trouble, but I thank you with all my heart a thousand times." "Oh, the Lord bless your young heart. I don't want no pay. Dinah aint so poor as that. Ha, ha, ha! no, no-you are a gentleman) I know; I thank you just the same; but I can't no how take this. Don't you think my heart is too glad to see how it has all come about? and just to think that me and that poor good creature next door have been the means of saving the dear child." "That woman next door has acted nobly," said the officer. "I havn't had time to tell you; but she has at the risk almost of her life interposed for the rescue of your sister." "One of those young women?" '"Oh, the Laws no," interrupted Aunt Dinah, "not they; they are the torment of their mother. It is the mother that found the poor thing and brought her here; but there must not be a word said. I believe they would a 'most kill her." "Can you give this to her, my good woman?"--and the young man brought forth another bill. "And thank her for us. I wish I knew what else I could do to show my grati- tude." C No, stop, stop; no occasion for any more money. I will just put this in her hands-poor creature, she wants it. She has a hard life of it, I assure you. No, no, we don't want no more; this is all a plenty."' The officer was then remunerated for his trouble, and as James then came up with the carriage, Dinah went into the back room to help the young girl prepare for her departure- that was soon done. "Oh, what shall I do for you, you have been so kind to me?" "Nothing at all, my dear child, only thank the Lord for your deliverance." "And that other good woman-oh, if I had money, what would I not give her!" "Your brother has done it, my darling; he has done it; I have got it in my hands, and I -will see she has it." "And you will thank her, won't you?" "That I will, and thank the Lord too." "And now good-bye." The young girltook Dinah's hand, and a moment looked into her pleasant face. It was dark indeed, but it had been to her as the face of an angel in her hour of trouble. She could not part thus; and throwing her arms about the neck of the good woman, allowed Dinah to * * , "KE AND UNLIKE. 201 press her for a moment in her strong arms, and then gave her a parting kiss. "Oh dear, dear, what a baby you make of me"--and the old woman wiped away the tears that had started at a salu- tation so unexpected. "Well, well, I see you aint afeared for the color. The Lord be good to you, and keep you and bless you, and make you learn wisdom from this trouble." She did not recognize James as one she had ever seen be- fore, and so nothing was said as she passed out with her brother to the carriage. The door was closed, and the car- riage moved off. "A lucky escape, I can tell you," said Mr. Bowman. "I call it a lucky escape." "Did you not hear what one of those girls said?" asked James, as they were now proceeding on their way. "You mean the youngest one, that seemed in such trou- ble?" "Yes, the one that said she wished so to get away." "I heard her, and I pity the poor thing; but what could any one do for her? There is a great difficulty about it. She is in a net that is hard to break; and if she was out of the net she would be like a fish floundering on land, no relief but death." "And yet that young man visits, I have reason to believe, in some of our best families." "No doubt of it, and many mothers a fishing for him to marry their daughters, no doubt of that." "But ought he not to be exposed-ought not the public to know about him, that people might be on their guard, and he not be allowed an entrance among refined and delicate ladies?" "Hoot, toot, man! you don't know much about our world yet, or you would never talk so. Don't you suppose these fami- lies where he visits know all about him, or at least have reason to judge pretty correctly what sort of a character he is; and if one should go and tell them he would be thought a ninny- for his pains. Our young ladies here, or at least some of them, are not so particular as you imagine. Why an angel or a saint as good as Paul would stand no chance with them, along side of such a devil as that Somerindyke, with his hun- dred or two hundred thousand in his pocket. Some, you know, think that a reformed rake makes the best husband; that is one of the worst lies the devil ever invented, as I know to my sorrow." 9* page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] 202 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "But do you not think it is my duty to inform a family where-I know this young man visits what kind of a character he is? Why I have seen that young man not more than an hour after he has come out of that house walking with one of their daughters. Now do you suppose she would be seen with him, if she knew all about him?" "I can't say how she or they might feel or act; but my opinion is that you would not be thanked for your informa- tion; and if you will take my advice, you will do no such thing. People must look out for themselves, and if they will worship money, they must-no help for it." James could say no more. It was, however, quite a damp- er upon his zeal to hear a person of some age and experience give such advice. He had resolved to let Mr. Sterling know what he had now accidentally discovered; but the remarks of his companion sealed his ardor, and he concluded upon the whole not to meddle with it. About twelve o'clock, James was again at his home and at his desk, and had the happiness of telling Mr. Sterling the result of his efforts. The latter listened with deep interest to his story, and when he had concluded asked: "What do you say is the name of that young man?" Somerindyke." "Somerindyke! Somerindyke! I have heard it before. You say le is rich?" "So it is said, sir." "Somerindyke! I wonder"-but what was the thought which just then came into the mind of Mr. Sterling, James could not know, for he did not express it; and after standing a few moments, thumbing his fingers on the desk, resumed his seat. Almost the first words Mr. Sterling uttered, as he com- menced carving a sirloin of beef that day at dinner, were: "Well, my dear, so sister F has made you a visit to-day." "Oh, yes, I had a very pleasant call from her. She seems in high spirits. She had some good news to tell." "Good news, ha! Well, it is not often she has any such budget as that to let out; most generally to me- she has some complaint to make, either about Roff, or the children, or the church, or somebody or other. Is the good news a secret?" "She did not tell it as such. I suppose it will be pretty generally known, for she was on her way to see Mrs. Bustle, and they are such friends, she will no doubt tell her; and "KEi AND UNLIKE. 203 Mrs. Bustle is no hand to keep a secret. Why, you are to have a new nephew." "A new nephew--what do you mean?" "I mean you are to have a pew nephew, and Matilda have a new cousin. Susan is engaged to be-married." "Mr. Sterling laid down his knife and fork; he had helped all but himself, and looked much excited as he asked: "' To whom is she engaged?" "Neither you nor I have yet seen him, I believe. He has visited there, however, sometime, so it seems. Hle is very rich, sister says; his name is Somerindyke." "My dear Caroline, you don't say so!" Mrs. Sterling noticed that James was intently looking at her and was unusually pale, and her husband evidently more affected than was usual for him. "Do you know him, my dear? do you know anything against him?" "Do Roff and his wife know him?" "I suppose of course they do. Sister says he is of a very respectable family. His fiather is dead and his mother is very feeble and not expected to live long. They have an elegant place in the country, and they own considerable property in the city. He owns a three story house in the upper part of- Broadway and it is to be furnished elegantly for Susan. They are to be married in a month, or, in case of the old lady's death, it might have to be put off for some months." "Well, well, if they are satisfied, we ought to be; but if my daughter had engaged herself to him, if I could not pre- vent her marrying him, I should wish death-might take either her or me away before the time-that is, if he is the one I take hin to be." "Iy dear James, what strange expressions you use!" "No stranger, iny dear, than my real feelings." "But do you know him?" "No, I do not. But one thing I know, he must never darken my doors." "Please do not speak rashy. If you know anything out of the way, it might be your duty to inform your brother and sister; they evidently think all is right." "Mamma," said Matilda, "I think if you were to see him, you would almost feel as papa does-although, perhaps it is wrong to judge a person hastily merely by his looks." "How does he look, my dear?" "Oh, mamma, I cannot describe him so as to impress you page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] 204 . T TKE, AND UNLIKE. in the same way that I think you would be if you saw him yourself. In the first place, he dresses not like a gentleman, but in the very extreme of fashion; and then when he speaks, it seems to be in an affected manner-by no means natural. He is constantly trying to say some witty thing, and laughs a great deal at what he himself says, and if I am any judge, he is very slightly educated. His language is quite coarse, and his manners raide; but his countenance has impressed me more unpleasantly than anything else about him. He stares very boldly at you, and there is something very cold and for- bidding in his whole look." W"Well done, my darling. I see you have become quite a critic. Young gentlemen will have to be on their good be- havior and have on their best looks before you." O1 110 no, papa, by no means; but one cannot well help re- ceiving a strong impression sometimes from personal appear- ance." James seemed very anxious to finish his dinner, and ate quite rapidly for him. As soon as he was through, he asked lMrs. Sterling " if he might be excused." James did not like the drift of the conversation, and feared he might have some questions put to him which, under present circumstances, he would not care to answer. As soon as he had left, Mrs. Sterling asked: "Is James any way related to that young man? he looked very pale when I mentioned his name, and seemed' quite agitated?" "I imagine not. He may probably know something about him which we do not." "I wish you would ask him, dear husband. If there is any- thing wrong, it seems very plain that Susan and her parents ought to know it, and they ought to know it at once." "Like as not if they did know it they would think light of it, or imagine there was some mistake or wrong representa- tion of the matter. It is a very ungracious business to med- dle in' such affairs. Parents ought to be on the watch and not invite to their houses, or allow their daughters to asso- ciate, with those whose character has a stain on it." "Very true, but how are they to know? There may be some things in this young man, such as Matilda has mention- ed, that are not agreeable to most people; but all do not see alike. Doubtless Susan nor her parents look upon him as Matilda does. They have become accustomed to his pecu- liarities and -think nothing of them." ! JTRTKR AND UNLIKE. 205 "Very likely." "But if you know anything, as it seems you do, tmy firm opinion is you ought to tell themn of it." "I have very strong suspicions that I do know, but I can ascertain for a certainty. I shall examine into it, and if I am- correct shall speak to Roff at once." 1Mr. Sterling did not sit so long at his' wine as usual, and went down to his office a full half hour earlier than was his custom.' "I lwant to ask you, James, a few questions about this young man. I have reason to think that the person who induced that poor foolish young girl to leave her home and come here to the city underla promise of'marriage, is the one ifho is engaged to Miss Susan Roff:" ' I believe him to be the same, sir." "What makes you think so?" "I have seen the young man go into Mr. Roff's, and I have heard Junius speak of him." "Might it not possibly be some other person of that name he was speaking of?" "I think not, sir, for the reason that once when walking with Junius, we met him, and Junius spoke to him, and after- ward told me he was the young man who was visiting his sister Susan." '"Did you ever say anything about him to Junius?" "I never did, sir-although sometimes I wished to do so; but I then knew nothing positively, althoulgh I had a bad impression of him." "And you feel very certain in this case?" "I do, sir, and I think he ought not tc be permitted to enter the house of a decent family." "I think so too. You had better keep this matter to your- self, without Mrs. Sterling should speak to you about him. She will be likely to, as she observed you seemed agitated when his name was- mentioned at the table." Mr. Roff was a very proud man; he showed it in his bear- ing on all occasions. He had a portly person, with a full, ruddy face, rather handsome, with the appearance of one who fared well and did not allow care to trouble him. At home, he did at times manifest an uneasy, worried mind; and Mrs. Roff had her own trials in that way; abroad, in company, or in business, most persons took him to be a very easy, liberal man, with rather a haughty demeanor. Mr. Sterling was not in the least affected by Mr. Roff's page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] 206 LIKE AND UNLIKE. pompous manners, for the reason that there were certain ob- ligations on the part of the latter to the former which could not well be dispensed wasith, and which Mr. Sterling never was obliged to ask in return. The favor,-thei'efore, was all one- sided, and both gentlemen knew that fact, and they both go- verned themselves accordingly. To Mr. Sterling Mr. Roff was always very complaisant. The errand upon which Mr. Sterling left his office that af- ternoon was not a very pleasant one, but he felt that his duty as a near relative demanded this step, although very much doubting whether any good would result firom it. He was received cordially, and found his brother-in-law alone in a back office more immediately occupied by himself and the next elder partner of the concern. "I have come, brother Roff, to have a little talk with you about a matter that concerns you more particularly, and it is possible you may think none of my business; but I feel an interest for you and your famnily, of course, and should be very glad, if the circumstances were reversed, to -have you deal in the same way with me." Mr. Roffcolored somewhat, and did not at dnce make a reply. He straightened himself a little more upright in his chair, and his look manifested some concern. He finally nodded his head as in assent to what Mr. Sterling had said, and awaited further communications. "I hear that Susan is engaged to be married." Mr. Roff nodded his head again, adding; "I believe you have been rightly informed; I suppose Felicia has told you." "Yes, she mentioned the matter to Caroline this morning. Do you know all about this young man?" "What, Somerindyke! Oh, yes, we know all that can very well be known about a man before he is married. We knew, and I guess you remember old Somerindyke. He has been dead about a year; left a large property, quite an estate. His mother is living-living at their country seat; I have been there some years ago; a very fine place it is too. I say the old lady is living, but she cannot last long now ; she is quite in a decline ; and I suppose at her death the property the young man will have will be a very handsome thing-a very handsome thing indeed. He has probably not less than two hundred thousand now." "Ay, indeed; that is more than I supposed his father left; but if he has one half that amount, it will be enough. But what I intended to ask, was: do you know the character of I - "TIKPF AND UNLIKE. 207 the young man-his habits, and so on; you know after all those are of more consequence than la large amount of pro- perty." "Yes, yes, very true. Why, as to that, I suppose, like most young men of his station in society, he may have lived a little free; perhaps, like many others, 'sown some wild oats'-like as not; young men witvh money, you know, have great temptation, and yet such men, when they come to settle down--why, they make pretty steady folks ; don't you think that is the case?" "Indeed, I can't say. I had no very large amount of money when I was a young man, and was, therefore, not tempted to spend it, and I had to work too hard to have much chance to ' sow any wild oats;' but I tell you candidly, brother Roff, there are some things which I have heard about this young man that I have thought you ought to know, and further than that, of course, I have nothing to say." And Mr. Sterling then went on with a recital of the event which had but that day transpired-giving mostly the out- lines of the story-and closed with saying: "I know, of course, that this was an affair about which you could not have been. informed, and it was mere accident that I have learned what I tell you." , "It is a very strange affair-a very strange story indeed, and one that ought to be well confirmed. You say you have heard this. Who has given you the information?" "It has come to me very straight; my young man was with Bowman at the house. I can assure you the story is a correct one; but if you wish to ascertain further about it, I presume Bowman, the police officer, can tell you." "Well, well, I will, if necessary, see him; but it seems, after all, a very improbable circumstance; take it all round, probably a very different version might be given to the whole thing. So far as I can understand you have heard only one side of the matter. Now this girl must, at all events, have been a very weak, foolish young thing, at the best --that you must know; and her version ought to be taken with great al- lowance. A woman has it in her power to make up any story about a man she pleases." "That is very true. After considering all the circumstances of the case, I think there can be little doubt of the truth of her statement." "Another thing; if her story is true, why did not her pa- rents prosecute the young man? She goes off, it seems, and page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] 208 TTKER AND UNLIKE. her brother with her, in the very sight of her betrayer, as she calls him, and with an officer by, and yet takes no steps to arrest him, or say anything to him." Mr. Sterling was not at all disappointed in the result of his communication; he had discharged his duty, and did not care to argue the case, and therefore eased off from the subject as pleasantly as he could, and very soon took his departure. The next morning, while Mrs. Sterling was sitting alone in her room, her sister, Mrs. Roff, made her appearance. She was evidently in no very pleasant frame of mind, as her countenance clearly showed, and her very first salutation convinced Mrs. Sterling that she must prepare for an unplea- sant encounter. "Well, Caroline, it seems the fact which I mentioned to you yesterday about Susan's engagement has had a very un- happy effect upon you." '4 In what way, sister?" "Why, I will tell you ; it seems that you and James can- not bear to hear of anything favorable happening to any of our family. If I had thought my talking to you would have worked you up so, I should not have troubled you with the news." "I am not conscious that either your brother or myself have any but the kindest feelings, Felicia, toward yourself and all your children. I suppose you allude to the fact that James gave some information, which both he and I thought it our duty to give, in reference to the young man who is en- gaged to Susan." "Yes, I do allude to it, and a shameful, pitiful story it is; and I only wonder that James had not more good sense or good feeling, than to go to Susan's father with such a strange story; he must have known it would make him feel very un- pleasantly, and what good could it possibly do? He knew, for you no doubt told him, that Susan was engaged; and it was his duty, when he heard such a foolish story, to have kept it to himself, and not go blabbing it about." "James is -not apt to do that, you know; he never meddles with other people's affairs ; but in this case, he felt it was but right that you and Mr. Roff should be informed of a fact that seemed so likely to interfere with the happiness of you a11." "It is no fact, Caroline; a mere base story got up, no doubt, by a foolish young girl, whom he may have paid a little attention to in the country; and she, poor foolish thing, "KE AND UNLIKE. 209 thought he meant it all in earnest; nay, likely she wanted to get some money out of him; many a girl is up to such tricks." "Sister Felicia, we have had no thought but of your and Susan's happiness; we have not acted either without being well assured of the truth in the case, and I fear, as does James, that you will all, one day, wish you paid more regard to it. But we have done with it." "No, Caroline, you have not done with it; you may choose to uphold the pitiful informer, but Mr. Somerindyke is not a man to be trifled with, and he will make the mischief-maker sweat for it-that he will." Mrs. Sterling felt that there was no further occasion for her to reply; she had nothing more to say, and therefore she resumed her sewing. "And to think that you should harbor under your roof a tale-bearer and mischief-maker isnot very much to your credit; but take care, mind what I say, you have got a snake in the grass about you; and one day see if you are not bitten! I know some things too, you will see yet to your sorrow; and I must tell you, since you make so free with my children, that you and James are both blinded about Matilda, and that you are doing very wrong to keep her home, as you say you intend to do. I should not trust one of my daughters alone with a young man every evening, studying together, and all such nonsense as that." "I presume I know, sister, to what you allude, and must say that you have been incorrectly informed." " Did not Matilda and that young fellow sit together every evening and study, before she went away; is not that true?" "Not as you have stated it. James sometimes assisted Matilda in her French lesson; but it was done in my pre- sence." "And you intend, as I hear, to let Matilda be under his instruction in the Sabbath-school; is that wise, do you think?" "Under the circumstances, we do think so ; I believe Mary is also to join the class." i I shall forbid it, the whole thing is wrong; as Mrs. Bustle says, we are turning things upside down-to put such a teacher at the head of young girls about as old as himself; Mr. Goodman ought to know better; but he will rue it yet." "Do not let us forget, dear sister, that you and I are pro- fessedly Christians; we are not to judge harshy; we are not to think evil; we are to exercise charity. Now, this young page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] 210 LIKE AND UNLIKE. man, of whom you speak so unkindly, has done nothing that can warrant any one in speaking ill of him-not at least since he has been in our family; he has been well instructed, and he is a perfect gentleman in behavior. Ite has more than or- dinary talents, and above all, is a most exemplary Christian; he manifests it in his faithfulness in all the relations' of life?, and especially in his devotion to his parent and sisters. Few young men would deny themselves as he does, for the pur- pose of sending all his earnings for the support of his friends." "How do you know where his money goes?" "I do not know certainly, I but your brother does. He never appropriates any of his salary but through him." "Ah, well, well-it is all well; your eyes are pretty well blinded, you will see yet." "And I ask you, sister Felicia, to think calmly and fairly, and with a spirit of prayer, what either James or myself have done to deserve the harsh language you have used to- day. You must realize that we could have no motive but your benefit and that of your child. Why should we be op- posed to any arrangement in your family that was satisfac- tory to you?" "Oh, I don't know why; but you have always something to say, or James has; and no doubt you talk over such mat- ters together. Hasn't he had the-I won't say what I was going to-but hasn't he as much as told me that I spent too much money for furniture and dress and parties? and don't I know the reason he so seldom comes to our house? He thinks things are too fine and showy. We are not dependent upon anybody, especially upon him, and he has no right to say a word to me about my affairs. It will be time enough when we ask favors firom him." "I suppose he feels at liberty to say to you what he would not say to any one else." "And when I wanted him to take Junius, and he knew I did, how did he act then?" "Oh, well, you know men must judge for themselves in regard to such matters." a They don't always judge for themselves; sometimes they are influenced. But I hope you will keep your minds easy about Susan; we have no fears but she will do well. There are enough ready to jump into her place." Mrs. Roff now arose to depart. Mrs. Sterling looked up at her with much feeling depicted in her fine countenance. ' Sister Felicia, do not let us part so; it is not right, it is "KE AND UNLIKE. 2" not Christian. We are near relatives-James is your only brother-and I can assure you I have only the purest feelings of friendship for you and for all the children. Now please, dear sister, believe me." "Actions speak louder than words. If your conscience is clear, so is mine. I don't talk so much about it, though. One thing I don't do: I don't meddle with other people's afails--I don't persuade people to withdraw their hand from works of benevolence. No, I don't do that; I should be afraid to do it." "Have I done so, sister?" "Ask yourself-ask yourself, who, has influenced Julia Russell to leave all her engagaements and skulk down at home. As Mrs. Bustle says, it is bad enough to refrain from Christ- ian enterprises yourself, but when you exelt your influence to keep others from doing so, it is a queer kind of religion. And you need not take the trouble of denying what I say, Caloline, for I know all about it. Julia Russell has been turned clear round, and now she can find time to come here every day, or to have you there; but' she cannot leave her family to attend our prayer-meeting, or our sewing society, or our sociables. Ah, it puts me out of all patience! it is sheer hypocrisy, I was going to say; it is not Christianity, at any rate. Some people have queer ideas of religion; some people want influence, and if they cannot have the influence they think they ought to have in public, they will hold back and cry out against those who are trying to do some little good in the world." And so saying, Mrs. Roff hurried from the room, and Mrs. Sterling, overwhelmed, with the strange and unkind treat- ment of one she wished to love as a friend and sister, gave vent to her feelings in a burst of tealrs. It was but a few moments after MrS. Roff had left that Mr. Sterling entered the room; he knew his sister had been there, and anticipated in some measure what her business was. He saw that his wife had been weeping, and he was much excited. "My dear Carrie, you have been tormented and abused, I know you have. I shall positively forbid my sister coming to my house." And he took her hand and seated himself beside her.- "My dear James, you must never do that--never. I only felt rather unpleasantly after she went out, and could not help giving way to my feelings. No, no, husband. Sister page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] 212 'TIJKF AND UNLIKE. has much to struggle against; she cannot always command her feelings--I am sorry she cannot. Why she feels so hurt, I cannot imagine. But let us have all patience with her. You are her only near relative, and as you love me, I beg of you to overlook her faults; treat her kindly, she may one day need our sympathy. I fear at present she does not see things in a right light; but the Lord will teach her." Mr. Sterling looked at his lovely wife as she was saying this, the tears had only added interest to her sweet face-not a mark of passion was on it; to him it appeared unearthly: love shone from it-love to God and man. He felt an over- powering sense of the majesty of goodness. He knew well what an ordeal she had been through: but not a trace of unruffled temper had it produced; and to hear her in such earnest words pleading with him to restrain his own feelings and bear patiently with one who had so often acted without reason or a sense of decorum, overcame him. He put his arm around her and drew her toward him. "Dear Carrie, you are too good." "Oh, no, no, no! not good. I am very weak, and but for God's grace you even would not love me." "Oh, Carrie, I would barter all I have for that grace; can it be that I can ever have it?" ", Oh, my husband, my husband! this is too good; I have never heard you thus speak. Can it be?" -"I do most devoutly wish for just such a state of feeling as I know you have. I do feel that Religion is a great real- ity. I see its power exhibited day by day. Your very looks condemn me, they have long condemned me. Your conduct convinces me, that the Spirit of God is a living, acting being, and I tell you now that I am ready to yield my heart, my life to Him who is your God." "6 Oh, dear James! to think that I should live to hear you speak thus. Our bridal day, James, was not so pleasant to me as this moment of my life, We are one now in reality, one forever."' And clasping her -arm about his neck, she poured out her feelings upon his breast. She had borne with Christian patience the rude treatment of- his sister--it was at times a difficult task; but she had looked above continually for that aid she felt the need of. She was carried through-grace had triumphed. Love, that true charmer of life's ill, spread its hallowed influence over every passion of her -heart, and now the reward has come, TIKRF AND UNLIKE. 213 richer than her imagination could have fancied; the one dark spot on her life's journey is removed. The husband, the choice of her youth, and the resting-place of her earthly affec- tion, is ready to throw himself beside her within the covenant of God's love. It is enough! She has no other request to make, but that he and she might be able to walk in the light to the end of life's journey! Mrs. Sterling knew her husband well, and that the words he had uttered were not forced from him by any sudden burst of feeling. He always acted deliberately and with determination. She therefore felt a confidence that she could not have felt in another, that what he said was the true meaning of his heart, and thus it proved. His consecration was a whole burnt-offering. What he did he always did with his might, and from that day he became a true, faithful, hum- ble follower of the Saviour. Her light, indeed, had not shone far, but it had shone with beauty and power in the sphere she occupied-a blessing and a joy to each one who witnessed its steady lustre. CHAPTER XI. DEAR MOTHER: The winter and the spring have passed, and a very happy winter and spring they have been to me. I have told you in former letters what a happy New Year I had, and what a handsome present I received from my employer, and that he had raised my salary to four hundred dollars; but I can hardly tell you in words how kindly I am treated. If I were a son, instead of a clerk, I could not have more comforts. I never knew such a pleasant state of things as there is in this family: I have not heard a harsh word used. by Mrs. Sterling to any of the servants since I have been here; they know their place and seem very anxious to please, and although they are perfectly free to make known any of their wants to her, and she sometimes consults with them about little matters in their department, they are very respectful and obedient. The servants they have now have been with them for years, and there is nothing ever said about a change of help. I do not believe they would leave for any consider- page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] 214 LIKE AND UNRTrT,. ation. I do not see how it is when I hear so much complaint made by other ladies who come to visit here concerning their help; but I believe the reason is, that iMrs. Sterling enters into their feelings. If anything is the matter with them, whether they are' unwell or in trouble of any kind, she pays just as much attention to them as if they were her kindred; and I believe in that way she has won their hearts. They serve her for love as much as for their pay. Since I last wrote to you their daughter has come back from school. She is very much improved in her manners and her looks; I could not have supposed nine months would have made such a change; she has grown some as well as myself, and has the bearing now of a young lady. I do not know that all would call her handsome, but she has good fea- tures, and one of the fairest complexions I have ever seen. She has not in general much color, but a very healthy look. Her hair is brown and very silky; she wears it on her neck, and it curls slightly at the ends. But her eye has a peculiar softness to its expression; the eyelashes are long and seem to me to give a richness and meaning to the eye which are difficult to describe. Her form is very graceful, and she walks with ease, her footsteps can scarcely be heard across the room; some girls, you know, have a heavy tread, and seem to stamp every step they take, and shake the room, unless the beams are remark- ably solid. I wish Mary could see her walk, either about the house or in the street, she would then understand what I mean by a graceful, easy gait, and what I have talked to her so much about. {And -now, dear mother, I come to a subject that I can hardly write about with a steady hand. I am to have a-vaca- tion in July--a vacation of two or three weeks; I am to go home to see you all once more, and what will you say! Mrs. Sterling will go with me. I will tell you how that has come about. She has on several occasions expressed a strong desire to see my mother. What makes her wish to see you I dare hardly tell, for fear you will think me a poor weak young man. But whenever H have done anything that has pleased her particularly, she has said: "James, I know you have a good mother, I should dearly like to see her." And I have -replied:-"I wish you could, I am sure she would suit you, Mrs. Sterling; I think your views of things are very much alike." Well, the other evening, when Mr. Sterling told me he 1 LIuKE AND UNLIKE. 215 thought it was time that I should have a holiday, and that I might fix my own time for taking it, I thanked him and said I thought, if he could spare me in July, it would be-the best time, as there would be less business doing. ' Very well," he replied, " that will suit me, for I have been thinking of spending a week or so this month in Philadelphia." Mrs. Sterling then looked at me and smiled. "I suppose," said she, " you would not care to have any company with you?" '"Oh, Mrs. Sterling," I said, remembering the wish she had several times expressed, " will you go? I should be so delighted." "Thank you, James. But what would your mother think?" "Oh, she will be delighted; I know she will." "Well, my dear, I think," said Mr. Sterling, "if James really knows that it would not put his friends to inconveni- ence, it would be a good idea. It would be gratifying to me to have you acquainted with his friends and to have them acquainted with us. I expect, if nothing happens, he will for some years be a member of our family, and if you go there, his mother or sisters may return the compliment and visit us. I like the idea much." Dear mother, when Mr. Sterling was saying this, my feel- ings almost overcame me; but I managed to choke them down. "' Well," said Mrs. Sterling, "I must say I have the same views you have expressed, my dear, and if James really thinks it will be best, and will not give his friends too much trouble, I would like it above all things." I assured her it would not, and then said: "You know we live in a very plain way-the house is plain and the furniture is plain; and " But she stopped me very soon. "I thought you knew me, James," she said, "and that I am not likely to be affected by such things." I begged her pardon, and promised to say no more about it. So, mother dear, it is now all arranged, and on the first day of July we are to start. We shall go up in a sloop to Fishkill landing, and take a conveyance from thence to our house. Oh, how I did want to say something about Matilda's going with us; but the words stuck in my mouth, I dared not bring them out. And now, dear mother, I tell you what I want to have done. You see I have inclosed to you one hundred dollars; page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] 216 LIKE AND UNLIKE. it is the whole of my last quarter's salary, but I have no use for any of it; I saved enough from the previous one to carry me through to the next. In fact, I have very little occa- sion to spend money at all except for some benevolent object. But what I want you to do is this: You have told -me that you hire Pawlus, to weed your garden, and do some little jobs for you. Now, let him put the little garden in complete order, and clear up everything around the house, if he has not already done so; and let him see to it that the small barn is all cleaned out, and everything in its place. And I wish you would hire a carpenter for a day or two, to straighten the garden-fence, and the fence around the house, and make everything look whole and neat. I do not care how plain everything is, but I want things to be in order. And let him clean out the little spring back of the garden, and arrange the sods around it, and clear away all the bushes; but do not let him cut away any of the willow branches that hang over it. Mary can show him what to do there. I cannot think of anything else that I need speak about; but I do want things outside the house to be fixed a little. I know how things will be in the house, well enough, and am not ashamed to take any good housekeeper, or true lady, there at any time, expected or not. I have many things more to say, but will defer them until we meet. With my best love to dear sisters, I remain, Your affectionate son, - JAMES BEAUFORT. -CHAPTER XII. MRS. BUSTLE was not going to give it up so, not she. "Julia Russell, I know," she said to Mr. Bustle, " suffers all but martyrdom firom that irreligious husband of hers-poor thing! What a pity she ever married such a man." Mr. Bustle smoothed his hair the least bit, and then said, "John Russell is not a bad man, my dear. He is, I think, quite a good sort of a person. He don't make a profession, to be sure-I wish he did." "He make a profession, Mr. Bustle! what do you mean? "KE AND UNLIKE. 217 A profane swearer-! a man that won't even let his wife have her own way, and keeps her mewed up in the house like a jail-bird! I am surprised to hear you talk so!" "Oh, well, I know he don't profess; but then he is very steady at meeting, and very attentive, too; and as to swear- ing, I can't say that I ever heard him use an improper word, and you know I have seen him often, lately, and seen him per- plexed with all kinds of people; and I have seen him mani- fest, I must say, a good deal of kind feeling. He is no nig- gard, depend upon that." ' You are a very soft man, Mr. Bustle, I must say. One day you think one way, and you think another way the next. Just so it was about Goodman--you was ever so fierce about getting him away, and made a sputter about it for a day or two, and then you turned clear round, and are as meek as a sucking-dove; and you will sit and take his preaching as quietly as if it was all Gospel--when you know in your heart he is preaching up the law the whole blessed time." "May be we need it, my dear; I can't say but we do; we - are none of us perfect, yet." "No; and we are not like to be, with the law hammering in our ears every Sabbath. We are under the Gospel now, we are not under the law." "We are under both, my dear wife, we are under both; and they can't be separated no more than you and I can be." "Pray, what does it mean, then, when the Scripture says: ' Cast out the bond-woman and her son. The law gendereth to bondage?' " "Yes, no doubt it does, if we look to be saved by it. We are saved through faith-but faith without works is dead." "I know all that, Mr. Bustle, works are necessary; and that is what makes me say to them who hold back and stay their hands from the many things there are to do, ' Show your faith by your works.' Now, there is this poor creature, Julia Russell; she did- run well; she was constant at all our meet- ings ; and a more efficient hand there was not among us. 'And who hath hindered her?' I know-and I wouldn't be at all afraid to tell him to his face that he was persecuting the righteous-vexing his wife's righteous soul." "I would not, wife, if I were you, say any such thing; we had better not be a meddling between husband and wife; it never does any good, and it might do harm." "nThat is just' like you, Mr. Bustle; you are always in a quake for fear of doing harm; if I should feel so, what would 10 page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] 218 LIKE AND UNLIKE. become of things? Would anything ever be done? But it seems very strange to me, that of late you are so turned round about Russell-you know yourself what you used to think about him." "I know that; but sometimes we may judge wrong, not knowing people. But I tell you now, wife, Russell is not such a man as many take him for; that I have reason to know." ' "It's a dreadful way you've got, Mr. Bustle, of saying things in the dark. You say you have reason to know this, and you have reason to know that-and you have reason to think this, and you have reason to think that. Why don't you tell your reasons straight out, and then a body would know what's what, and why's why. I know, of late, you have been with Russell a good deal, fussing over Goodman's affairs; and your head seems to be clean turned about it; and it wouldn't surprise me at all to hear that you had got, yourself in, in some way; it is what I've been a thinking. There will be money hauled out of your pocket yet-see if there ain't." "I tell you what is favorable for Russell." Mr. Bustle was anxious to turn his good wife's thoughts away from money matters. It might lead to some unpleasant questions on her part. "You know he and Sterling are very intimate-like brothers-and Sterling, you know, -has joined the Church." "Yes; and what good will it do? He and his wife will squat down at home, and never lift their finger to help along in anything." "But they give, don't they-give liberally?" "Suppose they do--they ought to give, they are abun. dantly able; but what would the giving do if there wasn't any one to go about and see to things? They ought to take up their cross." "I Maybe they do, there is no telling; maybe they have to do it in one way or, another, we can't say; maybe it isn't much of a cross for some folks to be busy." "Now Mr. Bustle! Oh, dear! to think that my own hus- band! Oh, Mr. Bustle, you will be sorry for this one of these days!" And Mrs. Bustle began to rub her eyes; the old man was alarmed. "Why, Peggy, Peggy, what is it? What have I -done P? what have I said?"' "Oh, you have said enough; but no matter-this is my ^, "KE AND UNLTIKE. 219 cross, I suppose. I'll try to bear it. To think that I am to be twitted because I try to do a little good, and am trying to spend what strength I've got in the blessed work-that I am to be twitted and told that it is no cross for me. Oh, no!T "W ho said so, wife?" "I know who you meant, Mr. Bustle. But I didn't think you would join with my enemies and call me a busy-body in other folks' matters. But ' I am stricken in the house of my friends.' I will try to bear it." "You are too quick, wife--you are too hasty. You take up things wrong end foremost. I can't speak nor say any- thing but you act as if pins were sticking in you. You will make me think, by and by, that you ought maybe to look more at home." "Go on, Mr. Bustle, go on; say all you've got to. I'll try "I don't want to trouble you; but can't I say a single thing, but you must take it to yourself. Supposing I should fly up and make a todo just because you happened to say something. Did you not say just now that I was soft?" "Go on-go on, Mr. Bustle." "I shan't go. on, for I have no more to say; but I will go out, and let you cool off a little." And so saying, Mr. Bustle did get up and walked very moderately from the room. He could not have done any- thing more vexing to Mrs. Bustle's righteous soul. She had not by any means got through. She knew it would do no good to call him back, for Mr. Bustle had moments when he was what is commonly called "stuffy," and he was in that state now. He did not like contention, and having borne up as long as he could well stand it, human nature began to get uppermost, and so he put himself very wisely out of harm's Soay. But Mrs. Bustle relieved herself by a good cry-yes, she was vexed to tears! and twas greatly relieved by the operation; so much so, that she resolved to go in the spirit of Elijah and accomplish a mission she had been bent upon, and that was to see" poor Julia Russell," and condole with her and try to give her resolution to resume her duties, which she had for some time neglected. So Mrs. Bustle ordered her carriage, for she had several calls to make and time was precious to her. She found Mrs. Russell at home, sitting with two of her children beside her, reading to them the life of Harriet 'Newell. page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] 220 LIKE AND UNLIKE. Mrs. Russell received her visitor very cordially, and imme- diately thereafter told the little ones to go into Aunt Jane's room, which at first they seemed reluctant to do; but upon the promise that they should hear more of the story by and by, they departed. "My dear Julia, how I have wanted to see you! but you know my time is so occupied, that I have scarcely any oppor- tunity to make mere calls of friendship; but I thought I must try to get here this morning." "I am glad you have, for I wished to apologize to you for leaving the Sewing Society especially. I sent a note to the secretary; but I thought I should like to explain to you more particularly my reasons for leaving." . But you have not really left?" "Oh, yes; I felt that I must decline attending." "And such a good work! and so useful as you were ,there!" "t Oh, yes, I believe good can be done in that way, and there are no doubt those who can give their time without detriment to others; but' I am persuaded it was not best for me." "I suppose I know your reason. I believe, Julia, that you have it in your heart to do good; but I know-you have hin- drances. The question, however, is: how far it is your duty to yield to them? you know. ' He that loveth husband or wife better than me is not worthy of me; and he that taketh not up his cross and followeth me, cannot be my disciple."' "Yes, that is very true, Mrs. Bustle; but it is a serious question to ask ourselves, and for us to answer, in what way the Master designs us to work.- The duties of the Christian are various, and we, I suppose, must be on our guard, lest in attempting to perform one duty, we do not neglect others of more importance." '"And what work can be-more important than that of seek- ing the good of others: clothing the naked, comforting the widow and the orphan, and training the rising generation to do works of benevolence?" "No -doubt that should be done, and I know my heart sympathizes in every such undertaking, and I am ready, and do now contribute to the extent of my ability for such objects, and would most gladly give my time, and my labor too, if I did not feel that my duties at home demanded my care and attention." "KE AND UNLIKE. 221 "We are not to seek our own things, but the things of others." "We are bound, though-those of us who have children- to train them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord; and I am very sure that my engagements abroad were inju- rious to the interests of my little ones. God has appointed my duty to them; my own judgment alone, directed me to public duties. - In attending to the first I cannot be wrong, my own impulses might be." "We must take care, Julia, that we do not make excuses for our neglect of certain duties that will not stand the test. No doubt you found great hindrances in attending to your public duties. Your husband opposed you; he does not sym- pathize in such things, you know, and the question is, whom are you to obey--him or Christ?" "I should not hesitate, I trust, Mrs. Bustle, if the test should be one very clear to my understanding; but my duty to obey my husband is certainly clear-my marriage vow and my Christian profession both lay me under strong obligations to do that; and if at any time I feel called upon to decline obedience, it ought to be very clear indeed that my husband's orders and my Saviour's commands were in conflict. But I can assure you that my leaving the societies was not from any opposition on his part, but from a sense of duty on mine. My husband is very domestic, he loves his home, and I believe it will not be vanity in me to say that he loves me; he wishes the converse and the company of his wife and children when he leaves the toil of business, and as he labors to provide for our wants and comfort, and gives himself up to that one duty, it is but a small return I can make to gra- tify him with my society. But that is not all, Mrs. Bustle; my whole family needs my presence and my care; my ser- vants have missed their mistress and my children have missed their mother; and I find the injunction to young wives to be, ' keepers at home '-one that was not given without a good reason. I must say that the change which I already witness in my family, and the happiness which I feel in my domestic avocations, and in the consciousness that my present sphere of duty is at home, and that in laboring there I am doing the work assigned me, will not allow me to think of changing my purpose. If I can be a faithful wife, a faithful nlother, and a faithful mistress, I feel very sure I am doing that which God has given me to do. Other engagements might be very pro- per under certain circumstances, or occasionally even under page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] 222 , LIKE AND UNLIKE. mine; but I could not be so sure that Goa had called me to them." Mrs. Bustle was not accustomed to be met with such a string of arguments in opposition to her own views, and she was not a little confounded that one who had been led by her so easily, should have taken such a sudden turn, and be able so decidedly to give her reasons for the change, and her determination to persevere in it. She felt that there would be no use in urging that matter any further; but still she did hot like to give it up so. "You think Mrs. Roff is a good woman-a good, engaged Christian?" "I hope she is, I am sure." " She has quite a family, sees a great deal of company, and yet finds time to attend all our meetings. Is she doing wrong? Are -not her elder daughters members of the Church, and has not her son, Junius, lately become pious? Does not the Lord bless her? Does He not manifest His approbation in thus blessing her? She is the most active among any of our members. What a gift she has in prayer! What an utterance! what fervor! what an anointing seems to be upon her!" "I do not pretend, Mrs. Bustle, to compare myself to others, or to judge for them. Each one must judge what course is best for him or her to pursue. I should be very sorry if I felt in the least disposed to condemn any one who thought or acted differently from me." "Perhaps there is one thing you have not thought of. It is of some- consequence that a Christian should have influence -influence in the Church and in the world-they are '-to let their lights shine'-to be 'as a city set on a hill, that cannot be hid.' Now, take the case of Mrs. Sterling---a good wo- man, we hope--but what is her influence? Who knows her as an active Christian? What does she do? Who is the better for her Christian labors?" "I do not like, Mrs. Bustle, to bring up individual names, either to praise them or to condemn; but since you seem to doubt the efficiency of Mrs. Sterling's labors, or the power of 'her Christian example, I can tell you, for I have reason to know, that she is, in a quiet, unnoticed, womanly way, doing much real, good-palpable good. Her light is by no means hidden; it may not shine far; but it is powerful as the dew upon the tender grass, or as the gentle shower from heaven." "KE AND UNLIKE. 223 "You and she are very intimate, of late." "We have always been intimate; but I must confess I had not known her so well as I have of late; and the more I see of her and of her lovely spirit, and of 'her consistent walk, and the more I see of the effect of her conduct upon her family and friends, and what happiness she spreads around her, and those who associate with her-that to me she is the brightest example of what a Christian ought to be, among all I have ever known; and I am not ashamed to say, I wish I was more like her." Mrs. Bustle had to choke down some very troublesome feelings which the latter part of these remarks aroused in her breast. She was not now dealing with Mr. Bustle, and there- fore took counsel of prudence, and tried to hush them down. It would have been a great relief to her aching heart, if she could, as well as not, have given her feelings full vent. But she was wise at times. "Well, my dear, I had hoped to have found you of a diffe, rent mind; I know we cannot all see alike; it is not best that we should.' I know Mrs. Sterling has peculiar views; she has never been heart and hand with many of us; not even choosing to join our praying circle. And, of course, if you thus take her for a pattern-of course we cannot hope for any better things. But I have detained you from your domestic duties too long, I fear, already." And Mrs. Bustle took a very formal leave; quite in con- trast with her salutation on coming in. Mrs. Bustle wanted sympathy--she had been sorely grieved, not only by the discourteous behavior of Mr. Bustle in going away from her presence and leaving her to talk to herself, but in the strange conduct of Julia Russell toward her, and her obstinacy in persisting to follow other counsel besides hers-and for that purpose the coachman was directed to drive to Mrs. Roff's. And while the carriage is on its way there, we will step in and see how things are going on at the house of that lady. Mrs. Roff is in her parlor, and is quite dressed for the day. She has just parted with visitors, who had called to offer con- gratulations to Miss Susan-for, with some people, an en- gagement is an event of so much importance, especially if it be one that is advantageous, they cannot restrain the offer of sympathy. Miss Susan was with her mother, and Jane, the next in order of age, was sitting at the piano, thrumbing that instrument. page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] 224: LIKE AND UNLIKE. "I wish to goodness, Jane, you would stop that racket. Ma and I can't hear ourselves talk." "I will, when I finish the tune." "Finish the tune! much of a tune you are playing. I do wish the piano was out of the house. I felt so mortified when the Gregorys were-in, to have you making a fool of yourself by trying to play. You'll never learn-you have no ear, and cannot tell whether you are right or wrong." "I've got as much ear as you have. You had better have blushed for yourself, when you made such work with the 'tune' you was trying to play yesterday. Somerindyke made fun of you behind your back. I saw him stuff a great deal of tobacco in his mouth, to keep from laughing." "Jane, you are an impudent hussy. I am a good mind to box your ears." "You had better try it, miss. You are quite on your high horse, of late, but I guess you'll have a curb in your mouth before long; you'll have a master, see if you don't! Don't you come h6re! don't you touch me!" Miss Susan was much enraged, and was evidently about to put her threat in execution; but Jane had wheeled round on her stool, and held a book in her hand, raised above her head, and prepared for defence. Mrs. Roff did not' at first, seem to pay any heed to the squabble; she was used to such events; the two girls, she said, at times, "' never could agree; she didn't know what ailed them to be always quarrelling ;" but when there seemed likely to be blows instead of loud speeches, she awoke to a sense of the proprieties, - Do girls-what do you mean! Jane, don't you strike your sister with that book." "I will, if she touches me." "She is not going to touch you. Susan, do sit down and be quiet. Jane is not worth minding; you know her tongue will run; don't mind a, word she says." ' I think, ma, it is your place to stop her tongue. She had no business to tell falsehoods about me, nor to tell me that I am going to have a master." Jane, I tell you to put down that book, instantly, and go along out of the room. Mind your mother-do you hear me!" With a very sullen air, Miss Jane threw down, the book, and as she left the room gave a dark scowl at her sister: "So you will have a master, and I hope he'll break your temper!" And then slammed the door behind her. IKTRE AND UNLIKE. 225 "There, you hear'her, now?" "Oh, never mind what she says. She has got such a tongue in her head no one can stop it when it gets agoing. But, come, tell me what it was Julia Gregory said." "Julia Gregory is a hateful girl: she is full of spite as she can be; she pretends to be so friendly, and all that; but it was very hateful in her to come blabbing in my ears about Somerindyke." "What did she say about him?" "Why, she said, Letitia Jones told her that the night they had a party at her house, they had to help him home in a carriage.' "Oh, la!--that is not such a dreadful thing; if you had seen what I have seen in my day; such things are not so common now, but I can tell you I have seen people, in such a state they could not be carried home in a carriage, and they are now as steady as deacons. Young men will have frolics.", "But it was hateful in her to come and tell me." "Ah! it's jealousy-depend upon it." "She would have him quick enough." "That she would. But what brings your father here this time of day-that is his step in the entry." It was, indeed, Mr. Roff, and from his appearance there was doubtless something not very pleasant on his mind. "What brings you home so early? Are you'sick?" "No, I am not sick ; but I am glad you and Susan are .', here-I want to talk with you. Susan, don't go away." I am not going. I only want a fan, it is so hot." And procuring the article from the other end of the room, Miss Susan took a seat at some distance from her father, on one of the sofas, leaning gracefully against its cushions, and assuming a careless expression of countenance, as though the matter to be communicated was of no kind of concern to her. "I have heard some unpleasant news this morning, and I do not feel easy; I feel, indeed, very much troubled about it-and I am afraid we have been, all of us, too fast.' "Do, Mr. Roff, tell what it is at once, and not go round and round the matter. What have you heard, and who of us does it concern?" "Why, it concerns all-of us-but more particularly Susan. [t seems Somerindyke got into some difficulty last evening in Broadway-it is said he was the worse for liquor-and 10* page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] 226 LT,-,Ti AND UNLIKE. was so abusive to the watchmen, they took him to the watch- house and locked him up for the night." "Now, who told you that, Mr. Roff?" "Why, it has codme to me very straight. Our porter is a watchman, and he was one of those who took him up. He knows him, too; and, knowing our family was somewhat interested in the young man, he told it to my partner, Gaines-and Mr. Gaines felt it to be his duty to inform me. Now, I think this matter had better be broken off." "Broken off!"And Mrs. Roff clasped her hands, and raised her, eyes toward the ceiling, while a loud cry from the quarter where Miss Susan was reclining, and a handkerchief applied to' her face, and certain convulsive movements of 'her pretty form, told clearly that she was in tears and deeply afflicted. "Yes; I say broken off! Better so than that a child should have a broken heart." A voice came -from the sofa. , My heart is broken now. I wish I was dead." "Yes, Mr. Roff, you will kill her yet; coming home every once in a while with such queer stories. It is enough to set her crazy-and you certainly will do it; you seem bent upon doing something." Now, Mr. Roff could not at all times control his temper-- and in fact in his home never seemed by any means careful to do so. He was somewhat excusable now, however, for being excited--his wife's words were by no means very soothing to a man's spirit. His own mind was uneasy; in fact, he was troubled by these repeated unpleasant reports concerning his prospective son-in-law, and, above all, the bitter cries and evident distress of his daughter, all worked him up into a warm temperament. "You are both of you enough to set me crazy. What can I do? How can I help these stories? And must I in silence see my daughter go to destruction before my eyes? I can't do it. I won't do it. And you her amother A pretty mother you are, to encourage her in persisting to dis- grace herself and all the rest of us." Mrs. Roff now " set in," beginning with almost a howl, and pouring forth such floods of tears, and such groans of anguish, that the troubled man was for the time hushed to silence and walked the room. At length he said: "Do you both want to alarm the whole house?" No, they did not wish to do that,' and the suggestion had T KE m AND UNLIKE. 227 an immediate effect to lull the storm. But there was quite an exhibition of suppressed agony, and the handkerchiefs were very busy. "I Iant to ask, in the name-of reason and common sense, what all this means. Have I no feeling, do you think?" A ring was heard at the door bell, and Mrs.-Roff, removing the cover from her eyes, perceived the well-known carriage of her friend, Mrs. Bustle, standing at the door. Mr. Roff also saw it, and made at once for the other room through one of the folding doors. - "Do, for goodness' sake, Susan, go up stairs. It's Bustle. I hope she hasn't heard anything." Without any urging, Susan obeyed the request. Mrs. BIustle was not in such good savor with her as with her mother. And Mrs. Roff rubbed, and wiped, and cleared away things as much as she could--not, however, so careful in the present case about exhibiting traces of tears; Mrs. Bustle would know how to account for them. "Oh, my dear friend, how glad I am to see you;" at the same time Mrs. Roff gave a kiss of welcome to her friend, and keeping hold of her hand, led her to the sofa, and sat down beside her. "In trouble again, dear Felicia?" "Oh, you know, 'man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward'-at least, woman is." "Mr. Roff!" This was said in a low voice. "Oh, well, dear, you know my, trouble--it's not worth while for me to say anything. You know how it is." "Yes, I suppose I do. It's your cross, Felicia-bear it. cheerfully. The end you know : no cross no crown. Indeed I suppose it is necessary for you--you have many blessings, as I was, telling Julia Russell this morning." "Have you been to see Julia?" "Yes, I have been there." And Mrs. Bustle heaved a deep sigh. It came from some very deep place--the bottom of her heart. 6' Julia seems very much altered," "She is no longer our Julia Russell; I am sorry to say "Julia has been under peculiar influences. You and I, no doubt, can well account for the change in her." "Yes, yes; no doubt it is influence. She is easily led- that is, she was once easily led to do right, so I thought, and so you thought. Many pleasant seasons we have spent with page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] 228 TTIi. AND UNLIKE. her; they are past, never, I fear, to be recalled. Never- never." "I feared it would be so, when I found she was becoming very intimate-with a certain -person who shall be nameless. I don't wish to judge uncharitably of any one, especially when it comes so near to one. But we have done our duty, at least, you have." "I have tried to, Felicia. You know I always speak my mind." "Yes, you do." "But it does not always accomplish the desired end. You speak about Mr. Roff; I have my own trials that way." "Not with Mr. Bustle! He is so good, so yielding. I often think that you, of all persons, have no reason to com- plain." "Mr. Bustle is a man, Felicia; a good man and a kind man in the main. 'But, you know, the best of them have their ways." "And their wills, too!" t' Yes, and their wills. We are the weaker vessels, so they say, and so they seem to feel." "But you surprise me about Mr. Bustle. I should never have thought of such a thing." "Nor would any one that didn't know all about him; not that he is violent-I almost wish he was, sometimes-but he has-a way with him. It was only this morning, I was talk- ing about Russell as pleasant as could be, but he took a miff at something, and up he jumps, never saying a word, and out he goes, leaving me there all to myself, as much as to say, ' you are not worth minding,' or ' I don't want to hear any- thing that you've got to say.' Now, if there is anything aggravating to the spirit, it is such a thing at that." "You don't say! Well, then, you have got a cross, I see; but there is no getting along without one." "But, as I was telling Julia Russell this morning, you see, I brought up your case to her, as she was giving one thing and another as an excuse for withdrawing her hand from the labors of love we have all been engaged in-look, says I, at Mrs. Roff." "Oh, I am sorry you brought me up." "By no means, Felicia. I had an object, and we mustn't be afraid to have our light seen; look, said I, at Mrs. Roff; she is constantly engaged in some work of charity. She mingles with the world; has a great deal of company, "KE AND UNLIKE. 229 and goes a great deal into company; and I said some other things not worth while to mention. But, said I, her zeal never wears out. She is busy in the world and out of the world-always busy. But see how she is blessed. Her elder daughters members of the Church. (If Mrs. Bustle had been there a little sooner she might have witnessed a sample of their claim to'discipleship). Junius, her promising son, just become pious. (He might at that moment have been seen watching a game of billiards played by his intended brother- in-law and a young man of the same stamp); her daughter about to be married, as'I hear, to a very wealthy man, and I hope, says I, a good man. (Mrs. Roff blushed scarlet, and fanned herself, but the weather was very warm. Mrs. Bus- tle was fanning away too for dear life); but I know him not, only I trust he is a good man or Susan would not have chosen him. Is she not blessed, I said, and all because of her faith- fulness. That stopped Julia. She could not say but it was true. It was a home thrust, and I meant it to be so." "What a pleasant sociable we had last evening." "Charming, was it not? And that is another thing we have to thank you for. Oh, these communings together are so good! But, do you think, there is another trial I have had--I had like to have forgot that--Mr. Bustle was not pleased." k Not pleased!" , "No. ' Too much light talk,' he said. He said he could not see how it could be called a Christian meeting any more than any other party. Think of that! such things jhave to hear; but I gave him my mind upon the subject. He was in bed and had to -hear me out. He could not run away, and I expressed my views fully; it is best for us to do so, if we are the weaker vessels. But I must go, dear. Keep up a good courage; fight manfully for the good cause, and don't let your trials press upon your spirits. Good-bye, dear." "Good-bye. I thank you for calling. Oh, it is so good to have Christian friends! I feel much better than when you came in." "Good-bye." "Good-bye." t page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] 230 T TtKF AND UNLIKE. CHAPTER XIII. G WILL yOU please present this to the young lady whose name is on the back of it, with my best regards?' James took the article which was handed to him. "For my sister?" "It is. I fear it is not made as nicely as she could have made it, but I believe I am a year younger than she." -"Oh, thank you, Miss Matilda; thank you very much. May I open it?" "' Oh, yes, if you wish. James unrolled the needle-book. It was, indeed, a very finished article, filled with an assortment of needles. A highly- polished scissors lay fastened to a small rack, and by its side a gold pencil, and a thimble of the same metal ensconced in its little cell. "' Oh, this is-exquisite! My sister will be delighted! You are very kind! I only wish you were going with us that you might witness the pleasure it will give." "It would be very pleasant. I have no doubt mamma will enjoy the visit very much." James looked earnestly at the young lady. A slight smile lighted her features. "Would it be pleasant to you to be with us?" "I have thought it would be, very pleasant. It would be pleasant, you know, to witness the joy of your mother and sisters at seeing you after so long an absence; and I am so fond of the country, too, that would also be pleasant; and especially as I have heard you describe the scenery around your home, I have formed quite a picture in my mind& of the mountains, and the rivers, and the lakes, and woods." 4 Oh, I wish you were going! Is it possible? Would you have gone had I given you an invitation?" "I could not very well go without one, you know." "Now, Miss Matilda, you make me very unhappy." "I should be very sorry to do that;" and again that smile played around her lips. "Please tell me, is it too late now?" "Oh, by all means. You know I cannot go now, and cer- tainly if asked at so late an hour." - .- .- .-+ .- . * . .* . . r "KE AND UNLIKE. 231 "Tell me truly, Miss Matilda, had I given you an invita- tion at the time, would you have accepted it?" "Oh, that is hardly a fair question. I had no invitation; that is sufficient reason, you know, for my not going now. But I have no doubt you did not think of it." "I did think of it. I did want to ask you." "Why not, then?" "'I can hardly tell you why. I was on the point of doing so, but" "I suppose it was for some reason like the one which prompted you to go off in such haste, and leave others to escort me home, last spring." Will you never forgive that blunder?" "Oh, it has been forgiven long ago." "But I fear you will never forget it. Have I not since then endeavored to do whatever I thought you wished me to do?" ' I wished you to go to the party at Aunt Rofrs the other evening."' "Did I not escort you there?" "Oh, yes, and left me to get home as I could." "Miss Matilda, you are really cruel to me now. You know I offered to come for you at any hour -you would "Oh, but when I wish a gentleman to wait upon me I do lot expect him to perform the part of a lackey. I might tave wished to have some one to wait upon me through the ,vening; and I might, perhaps, have had a little vanity in etting others see that he knew how to behave himself, and hat he had some accomplishments that would make him uite an agreeable addition to the circle; and, moreover, I aust tell you, that when a lady makes a request of a gentle- ran, especially if it be one she respects, it is no little mortifi- ation to be refused.'f "Oh, Miss Matilda! you do not know. I cannot tell you iy reasons." "I presume that I could tell some of them. In the first lace, you have an impression that Aunt Roff does not feel iendly; but then you also know her feelings are very %riable: one day she may be in a miff, and -the next she ill be quite pleasant; and I have no doubt, if you had gone id done your best at singing and playing, it would have eased her very much; for nothing puts her in better humor an for any one to add to the pleasantness of her entertain. page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] 232 TT9F AND UNLIKE. ments, and you could have done so. There was no one there that could even play a cotillon --properly; and then, you know, Junius and Mary think so much of you. I expect Mary will feel that you intended to slight her." "I assure you I had no such thought." "No, I do not believe you had. I am very sure you would not do that, but I cannot well see what apology you can make to her. My own opinion is that the party was indebted to you for its existence. I think I am not mistaken about that." "You must be, Miss Matilda-you must be very much mistaken." "Perhaps, when you see Mary, you will find that I am not far out of the way in my suspicion; and, moreover, Mr. Beaufort" "Please do not put me at quite such a distance. "I believe I must. You are so very formal yourself, I must accommodate myself to your own peculiar way. I was going to say though, it was quite a trial to me to be looked to as responsible for the vagaries of a young gentleman who seems to be so much thought of. -Not only Cousin Mary, but Miss Hetty Marshall and Miss Julia Sprague, both mem- bers of the class, all came to me to know if you were not to be there? and why you were not there? And what could I say to them?" "Oh, Mrs. Sterling, I am so glad you have come in." (That lady just then entered the room.) "What is it, James?" "I want your help. Miss Matilda has no mercy on a poor delinquent. She is literally trying to crush me." "By no means, mamma. I am merely trying to make this young gentleman sensible of his shortcomings, that he may learn to subdue his pride and behave more sensibly." "My- pride! Oh, Mrs. Sterling, do you hear theat My pride! Am I proud?" "Not unreasonably so." "Oh, mamma, take care. You know what you have said." "Oh, well, a certain amount of pride may not do harm, if it only helps one to maintain true decorum. Self-respect is quite necessary; it need not degenerate into vanity." "But, mamma, if it leads us to disregard the feelings of others, and to put a wrong construction upon their feelings toward us?" "TKFE ANiD UNLIKE. 233 "I am sure you are wrong, Miss Matilda; it was not pride that prevented me from attending that party. What have I to be proud of? If I were a rich young man, or if my parents were rich, I might possibly be charged with some such feeling; but you know the very reverse of that is the truth. And how could I suppose that any one would spend a thought about the absence of one in my circumstances, when the only reason why I was invited at all was for your sake, and because I was living here?" "There, mamma, you hear that! And there is no exhi- bition of pride there! Oh, none at all!" Mrs. Sterling smiled. "I believe, James, Matilda is not very far wrong. I fear it has operated more than you are aware of in leading you to decline attending that party. But what is that? Have you finished it, Matilda? It is very well done, my dear." "Is it not a beautiful present, Mrs. Sterling?" "I hope your sister will be pleased with it; and here is a little parcel, James-it is only a trifle, a few things for your younger' sister. You can ppt the bundle in your trunk, and then it will not be forgotten." "I don't know how I shall ever repay you, Mrs. Sterling, the girls will be so pleased! And now, Miss Matilda, will you pardon me? and believe me, I will try to do better in future." - "I am afraid you will not, you are so very obstinate and set in your way. How often have I asked you not to say Miss every time you address me?" "Please do not insist upon that." "Yes, there it is. Oh, what obedience!" "Now, Mrs. Sterling, is it not highly proper for me thus to address your daughter?" "Certainly it is." "Well then, Mr. Beaufort, so be it; or Mr. James, just which you prefer," "Oh, Matilda, you must allow young gentlemen to consult their own feelings about such a matter." "Oh, certainly, mamma, certainly; only I suppose a young lady may likewise be indulged with her choice of address. Beaufort has quite a pleasant sound-rather a romantic name-it will be no trial at all to me to use it; only I may not feel quite so free to ask a favor of Mr. Beaufort as I would of my companion whom I could address familiarly- that is all." page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] 234 . TTK F AND UNLIKE. James did not reply, but he fixed his eye steadily on Ma- tilda; his countenance was sad, for he really felt so. He had the most sincere respect for her, he was most intensely anxious to gratify whatever he thought was her wish; he could not comply with her request " to address her as her parents and other friends did ;" he felt that therewas a vast distance between them; he was in a position that made it, in his opinion, perfectly proper for her to address him as her parents did; but that fact, to his mind, had nothing to do with the proprieties in his case. She was a young lady, the daughter of wealthy parents, and years must intervene before he could feel himself on an equality with her, if he ever should be so fortunate as to reach that position. Matilda noticed the' expression of his countenance. She knew he felt badly; her motives had not been those of mere sport, nor did she design to interfere with that pleasant reserve of manner which he had ever indulged toward her, and she did not believe that the change in his address would make any change in their treatment of each other; her only reason was that she wished him to feel that she was not afraid nor ashamed to be considered by him as an equal, full as much so as her cousin Junius. But she felt satisfied now, that for some cause it would be a trial to him to comply; at once her own countenance lost its playful aspect, as she said: "Imust ask pardon now-I did not intend to try your feelings; forget my last speech. I promise not only often to throw myself upon your kindness, for any favor you can do me, but if you are not engaged this evening, will ask you at once for one. Can you go with me after tea to do a little shopping?" "I will be most happy to do so." James had arrayed himself in his best and was in quite a happy frame of mind at .tea that evening, anticipating the pleasure of a walk with her who had in many ways gained an interest in his heart. "Now, papa," said Matilda, coming up to him and laying her hand on his shoulder. She had her bonnet on and was fully arrayed for her walk. "I am quite out, will you please produce- your pocket-book?" '"How do you know there is anything in it?" "Because I have never yet seen it empty." "You havn't, ah! Well, you will find it so now. Master James here has taken charge of the money. See here, there - .' . I T,TLKW AND UNLIKE. 235 is nothing in it," handing her the pocket-book, '" nothing that will be of any'use to you."- v "That is a fine-story. Then I suppose I must go to him." "I will tell you how that happens, Miss Matilda. I have not yet balanced my cash for the day; as I thought you, wished to go out early in the evening, I concluded to postpone that duty until our return." "And does all your money, papa, have to go through his hands?" "Every dollar of it." "That is a queer way. Whnt am I to do, then? "You must do as I do, ask him." "Oh, that will be making him of too much consequence, I fear." "I am only, you know, Miss Matilda, a pocket-book. I have no power over its contents." "Well, then, since the pocket-book is to wait upon me, I shall take the liberty of helping myself-a very agreeable arrangement; so, if you are ready, sir, I am, and we had better be on our way, for the door-bell rings! It may possi- bly be some one who has come to enjoy our ' pocket-book's' performance on the piano." And an arch smile played around her pretty lips as she' looked at James. "(Sure enough it is. I hear Cousin Mary's voice. Now, sir, you may put down your hat." James blushed deeply, for he too had recognized the voice. Mrs. Sterling also smiled as she looked at James. She saw that he was, for some reason, excited, and knowing that Miss Mary had at least a high opinion of hint, she concluded that there was some feeling on his part too. James felt well assured that Miss Mary was not alone, and the fact was not, just at that moment, a pleasant one to him. "Going out, ah!" said Miss Mary Roff to her cousin as she entered the room, followed by her brother. "Where are you going?" , "Oh, merely to do a little shopping." Junius turned rather a serious look toward Matilda, and his eye glanced from her to James. He was by no means pleased with the arrangement, for he perceived that James was standing, hat in hand, as though in readiness to accom- pany her, while his uncle sat with the "Evening Post" on his lap and his slippers on, "Junius asked me this evening if I would accompany him page: 236-237[View Page 236-237] 236 LIKE AND UNLIKE. round here, and see if you would not like to go to Scudder's Museum; it is such a beautiful evening." "Thank you; I should like to go to the -museum; but I have some sewing I wish to accomplish this evening, and was just going to procure a few small articles I need first. o Mamma, what do you say?" "I think, my dear, you will not have time to do all you wish to do and go-to the museum too." "But we will not hinder you, Matilda, from your shop- ping; it is such beautiful moonlight. I should like to walk with you." "Oh, well, do by all means, and then return with me and spend the evening." As no objections were made to this proposition, the little party left the room and descended the stairs. James had to go into the office to procure from the safe the needful for Miss Matilda. It occupied but a moment; but when he came into the entry where they were standing, he noticed that Junius had already placed himself by the side of Ma- tilda. James handed her the money. She looked at him and smiled pleasantly, no doubt thinking of what had just passed between them up stairs. "Will that be sufficient? If not, I will get more." "How much is it?" "Five." "Oh, plenty, you are quite liberal! I do not know but I shall much prefer this new arrangement." James merely bowed and smiled in return. The pantomime, as well as what they said, was a riddle to Junius; but not a pleasant one. He immediately, however, gave his arm to Matilda, as James was opening the door, and of course the latter had only an alternative in offering his to Miss Mary. As this young lady was somewhat anxious at times to take a little longer view of some objects which were exhibited at the shop windows, James of course allowed her to indulge her curiosity, and in this way their companions were some- what ahead of them. It was of no consequence, as they knew to what particular store Matilda was bound; but it was quite agreeable to Junius, he wanted very much the oppor- tunity to speak with his cousin in private, and as soon as he noticed that the other couple had lagged behind, he em- :braced it. "Why did you not let me know to-day when I was at "TKTE AND UNLIKE. 237 your house, Cousin Matilda, that you wished to go out this evening?" "Oh, I did not think of it; and it would hardly have been worth while to give you all that trouble." "But does it ever seem to be any trouble for me to wait upon you?" "Oh, no, you are always very kind and obliging." is Is it not more natural, too, that I should wait upon you than that you should be under obligations to a stranger for such a service?" "Oh, but we do -not consider James a stranger, you know." "He is one for all that. You know nothing particular about him-that is, about his family and all that. I like James well enough myself, he is a very good sort of a fellow; but it is not like having one whom you, have always known; I have always been in place of a brother to you." "I know you have, Cousin Junius, and I feel grateful for all your attention." "I do not want you to say so, Matilda; you need not feel under any obligations. It is a pleasure to me always to do anything for you, or to be with you." Junius had never spoken so plainly before, and perhaps did not realize the full meaning which his words conveyed; but Matilda, woman-like, was at once affected by them. She did not wish to reply to them as words of serious import, so she playfully said: "Oh, then, if you wish it, I will say nothing about obliga- tion, for I suppose it is the case that all gentlemen feel it a privilege to wait upon ladies-they pretend so, at any rate. But where is Mary?" And Matilda looked back and seemed to wish to wait until she came up. "Oh, they will be along. They know where we are go- ing; why should we wait for them?" "It would seem a little more sociable, you know, since we all started in company. Oh, here they are close at hand!" "- Matilda is quite uneasy about you," said Junius. She is afraid you will lose your way. I hope you will Seep close to us; I expect she is lonesome." C Oh, dear, she must be badly off, then!" said Mary; " to be lonely in Broadway. I should think you might find some- thing to say to her; can't you talk about the moon or some- ,thing of that kind? We have been talking about the stars; page: 238-239[View Page 238-239] 238 LIKE AND UNLIKE. I have learned; more about them than I ever knew before. I have seen the Dipper, and the North Star and Venus, and I don't know how many others, and I shall always remember them now." "-Do, Sister Mary; don't talk so loud in Broadway." "Do, Mr. Brother Junius; don't speak so sharp, nor look so glum; one would think you had been eating crab apples." A few doors more to be passed, and they entered a thread and needle store, and the ladies were at once busily employed selecting sundry articles of worsted, while the young gentle- men leaned against the iron which protected the glass cases over the counter ; Junius with his back toward it, and James looking over a very pretty assortment of ladies' gloves that lay spread out to view beneath the glass case. He saw that 'Matilda had made her selection and was opening her purse for making payment. "Miss Matilda"-he spoke, in rather a low voice, after stepping up close to her--" may I trouble you to select for me, out of the adjoining case, two pairs of ladies' gloves-I want them for my sisters." "Yes, with pleasure; will my size answer?" "For one pair; the other, a size larger." She stepped to the designated spot, and the case was imme- diately opened and the articles placed before her for selec- tion, "eYoU see my hand is a good large one," holding up the pretty, plump little article for his inspection, and looking at him with that smile upon her countenance which gave to its expression a peculiar fascination. Junius almost gave a start; he certainly moved from his place and walked across to the other counter. "I will run the risk," James replied. "Well, there they are, then ;" and Matilda immediately had recourse again to her purse; but James took no notice of the act; he very deliberately opened his own and laid the money on the counter. "Oh, they are paid for." "You are very kind, but you must excuse me; I wish to make a present to the girls myself; remember, you have already made one." "Oh, well, let it be from you, then; but they are paid." "Oh, well, I can arrange it." "How? I pray." "Oh, you know I told you my cash is not yet balanced for "KE AND UNLIKE. 239 the day. It is only to charge your father so much less money, or pay it from my own." "That is the kind of obedience I am to expect! Well, I think some- people make promises only to break them the first opportunity." "Please do not insist on my obedience this time; it will, under present circumstances, really be painful for me-it will mortify me." "Well, since you beg off so seriously, arrange the thing as you say you will; is there anything else I can select for you?" , "No, thank you; nothing more." "Then we will go; I have got all I want. Cousin Junius, shall we go?"Matilda saw that he stood still and made no attempt to move while the rest were on their way. "Oh, yes; you are through, are you?" "Yes, I am through, and I suppose that is joyful news to you; gentlemen seem to dislike shopping. I think it must be very disagreeable work for them to be standing looking on, and nothing to say or do." Junius had given her his arm, and they were walking from the store, when, looking down, he -asked: "Where is your parcel? let me carry it for yeu." "Oh, James has that." This was a trial, Junius, with the state of feeling he was then in, could not well bear; he had a good deal of his mother's quickness of temper, although the storm was more speedily over than with her. He was not feeling pleasantly when he entered the store, and the little scene between Matilda and James had most wonderfully increased his uneasiness. He did not fully comprehend the subject which seemed to be of interest to thebm, but- he thought there was too much familiarity; especially did it go to his heart to see Matilda appear so in earnest and so pleasurably excited. "I see, Matilda, that I am to be only second best in any- thing. I suppose it is because I don't talk about- the moon and the stars, nor play the piano, nor read French, nor teach a Bible class, nor " he was interrupted just then by his sister Mary tapping him on the shoulder and saying, play- fully: "I hope you will find something agreeable -to talk about, on your way home, Junius; you looked so sober in the store." page: 240-241[View Page 240-241] 240 L, TKR, AND UNLIKE. "Then you had better keep very near and let me hear your lecture on astronomy." "Cousin Junius ;" and Matilda slightly shook the arm she was leaning on. "What is it, Matilda? I suppose there is no harm in listening to a lecture where -a person of such ability holds forth!" - Matilda was one of those sensitive beings who shrink from anything that borders on passion; their tongues are at once hushed by a harsh word. She knew now that Junius was displeased, and she could understand with-whom; but what James had done to cause his displeasure was not so apparent, and she, for peculiar reasons, did not care to ask, and, indeed, it would have been almost impossible for her then so to do. She felt very sad, however, to have her cousin thus insult one whom she knew to have fine feelings, and who, on all occasions, was so careful of those of others. She knew well that James and Mary both understood his allusion, for they walked along in silence behind them, and even allowed a greater space to intervene between the two parties. Junius, however, was resolved to get at the bottom of things, if he could, and after walking some little distance without either speaking, he asked: "I suppose, then, Matilda, I may understand after this that I am only to wait upon you when it is not convenient for James Beaufort, to do so." "I never wish you, by any means, Cousin Junius, to put yourself to any inconvenience on my account; you know papa usually attends me whenever I wish to go anywhere that a gentleman's company is required, and James is also ready when I ask him." "That is not an answer to my question. I have told you already this evening that it was my pleasure to attend you, and that I considered I had a prior claim to any one else except your father; now, what I want to know is, whether I must renounce my claim." "I do not wish you, Cousin Junius, to renounce anything. I feel toward you as I have ever done. I have never objected, have I, to have you wait upon me to parties or elsewhere?" "No, you have not; but what I wish to know is whether we are to be on the same footing we were before you became so familiar with James; in other words, am I or is he to have the preference in waiting on you?" $"I cannot answer that question, Cousin Junius, nor do I i I' "KE AND UNLIKE. 241 feel it necessary to make any arrangement of that kind; it might put both you and me to some inconvenience at times." "Well, I see how it. is, Matilda. I am then to feel that I stand on the same footing with any one who happens to come along." Matilda did not like his remark, and felt unwilling to make any reply to it. "I shall not trouble you hereafter. I don't wish to sub- ject myself to the mortification of being classed with any one; if you don't think more of yourself and your family and con- nections than to allow intimacy on your part with those far beneath you, I think too much of myself to be placed on a par with them." "Cousin Junius, I must say you have chosen a topic of conversation this evening by no means agreeable, and I think are too hasty in your conclusions; you make yourself uncom- fortable, and me, too." "I know I feel very unhappy myself, but I do not wish to make you so ; but how can I help feeling so? to see you so intimate and appear so interested in one who is comparatively a stranger to you. I cannot bear it; it makes me wretched -I think so much of you." "If you talk so, Junius, you will certainly make it neces- sary for me utterly to decline any attentions from you what- ever, and I must ask it as a favor, that you will not only stop it now, but hereafter; my parents would feel very unpleasantly to know that I was subject to hear such lan- guage, and unless you promise me most solemnly that it shall not be repeated, I shall certainly, tell them, and decline going with you anywhere.'" Junius had not anticipated'such a stand on the part of his hitherto mild and yielding cousin; he felt that he had been too hasty,.and feared he had put an end to all his hopes; he could not vet bear the thought of giving her up; time might make a great change in her feelings. "Well, Cousin Matilda, if you say so, so let it be. I regret what I have said; I have been foolishy excited; try to forget it; forgive me and accept of my attentions or decline them, just as you may think proper at the time-will that satisfy you? so that I shall not be turned out of your heart entirely." Whether Junius had art enough to divine the disposition of Matilda, or whether he uttered what was the true state of his feeling at the time, we will not pretend to decide; but he " page: 242-243[View Page 242-243] 242 LIKE AND UNLIKE. could not have-said anything better calculated to accomplish the object of replacing himself where he had formerly stood. Matilda made no reply. "Do, dear cousin, say that you forgive me." "I do.'" "And I may feel that I stand with you as I did before this unfortunate evening?" "Yes." They had now turned into Wall street, and were compara- tively alone, except that James and Miss Mary had nearly overtaken them, and the sound of their voices could be dis- tinctly heard. They seemed to be in no want for subjects of conversation, and Junius, as well as Matilda, was glad to slacken his pace and again form connection with them, as they both felt that the company of some third person would be a great relief. Mary and James were somewhat sur- prised at the change in the manner of Junius, for he accosted them pleasantly, and he told James he was in a hurry to get to his Uncle Sterling's, he wanted so much to hear some music. Miss Mary Roff appeared in more than her usual spirits through the evening, and seemed more delighted with the music than she had ever been yet. And Mrs. Sterling took so much notice of it that when they left she rather rallied James upon his ability to fascinate young ladies. "I believe," she said, " if all young men knew what power music has to interest young ladies, they would more gene- rally cultivate their talents in that way." "But, Mrs. Sterling, you would not have a young man do it with such a purpose; or would you think the better of a young lady for being fascinated by a mere accomplish- ment?" "I cannot say that I would; but gentlemen in general ap-. pear so desirous of gaining the good will of the fair sex, I wonder, as I said, they do not oftener study what requisites would be effectual." "My own opinion has been, Mrs. SteAling, that ladies, after all, are to be won rather by what they think is substantial in character, than by either manners or light acquisitions, such as music, dancing, etc." "That is true no doubt, when they come to make a real choice for life. But I am speaking now of young gentlemen and quite young ladies, who cannot be supposed to, have any such object in their minds-very seldom is it that those T IKE AND UNLIKE. 243 who are agreeable to us in very early life remain so. Youth- ful feelings are easily excited, but as easily changed." Matilda seemed more than usually silent; she was busy with her needle, and did not even look from her work to manifest that she took any interest in the conversation. James remained a few moments standing by Mrs. Sterling, as she conversed with him, and then went down into the office to complete his work for the day. CHAPTER XIV. THE much looked for first of July at length had come and James was up by the breaking of the day; in fact, the night had been to him a long one, his sleep had not been so sound and quiet as usual; his anticipated happiness was too much for rest. It was a fair and lovely morning, a little cool for the season, a fine shower the previous evening had left the air pure and bracing. James had not much more to do than usual, for his work never drove him; he kept it in its place by allowing no duty which .the day called for, to be left for the morrow, and when he retired to rest at night, he couldqlie down with the consciousness that everything up to that moment was fair and square. But James thought he had much more to do than common, and therefore he was astir early. The sloop was not to sail till twelve o'clock, so that he need not have hurried on that account; but he wished to do everything that had to be done, at least for that day, so as not to give his employer more trouble than was necessary. The day for sailing in sloops has passed, and few now go firom place to place by such conveyance; and yet, no doubt, some who read these pages, can look back to the time when they enjoyed that luxury, and can say that never since have. they plowed the water with such unalloyed pleasure. To mingle with the crowd upon the deck of a steamboat, and be hurried along amid fire and smoke, may answer for those who love to jostle with the multitude, and care only to be at their journey's end in the shortest possible time. But true enjoyment has slipped out amid the strife and toil of page: 244-245[View Page 244-245] 244 LIKE AND UNLIKE. the present day. To see the white sail filled with the fresh breeze, and to feel the motion of the vessel as she urges lier way over the blue waters, has a quickening influence. We enter into the sport, and sympathize with the wind and waves; we watch the coming breeze, as it ripples the dis- tant water; or we watch the slackening sail as the breeze dies away; we are a part of the concern, interested in every change of the weather and the tide, and look forward to our harbor with more pleasing sensations, because of the uncer- tainty when we shall reach it. It was twelve o'clock when James and Mrs. Sterling ar- rived at the dock. The mainsail was already hoisted, and flapped lazily to the gentle south wind. "We shall not have much of a breeze, but what there is will be right behind us." "And how perfectly clear is the sky! not a cloud to be seen, James." "We shall have' a delightful time! I am very glad, for your sake, Mrs. Sterling, that the weather is so calm. And we shall have moonlight, too; I want you to see the High- lands by moonlight." And a good long look, too, they both had the opportunity to take, for near the going down of the sun, the breeze had died away, just as they had passed Dunderberg, and the sloop came to anchor, surrounded on every side by the tow- ering hills. "u I imagine, James, that these mountains and all this lovely scenery appear to you very different now from what they would if you had passed through them on your way to the city." "I should never have thought of it then as being beauti- ful. I have an idea that these mountains would have ap- peared gloomy. -But now they seem like fairy land, and as if all who dwell among them must be happy." 1"Then -you are still fond of the country, James?" (c Oh, yes, ma'm; I think every one must be." "Would you prefer now to exchange the city for it?" i' No, ma'm; not now. I am too happy where I am, and I can plainly see that, for many reasons, the city has advan- tages for one in my circumstances-and, indeed, for any young man. There is more to stimulate him to activity; there is more order, and regularity, and system. He finds more persons above him, whom he is bound to respect, and their manners are more courteous and reserved. And then "KE AND UNLIKE. 245 there is a better choice of society. There are many good people in the city-very good people. And there is a liberal spirit I never had an idea of until I went there." "That is all very true; but there is also much evil, I pre- sume you have seen more wickedness and misery in the city than you saw in the country." "- Wickedness and misery I never saw in the country. No doubt there were bad men-men who hated all that was. good. But they, I suppose, had not the opportunity of showing out their true characters. No doubt they felt under restraint; everybody in the country is known, and every one wishes in some way to keep the good will of his neighbors. But as to poverty, they know nothing about it as we do in the city, and they would hardly believe me if I should tell them, when I get home, the one-half of the wretch- edness I have seen." "No, they can have no idea of it ; but when I asked you if you loved the country, I meant whether you were particu- larly attached to its scenery." "I never thought of it as I do now, Mrs. Sterling; when I lived there, for the last year my mind was so occupied with our troubles, that nothing of that kind ever came across me; but now, as I look at this blue water and those hills and the green fields, it seems -to fill me with a strange pleasure; I can enjoy them now; perhaps it is because I have not seen them for so long a time." "' That may be one reason; but to enjoy any of Nature's beauties, the mind must be free from care-that is, from cor- roding care--and that is also true in reference to enjoyment of any kind ; no social scene can be a happy one to any with a weight upon his mind or a stain upon his conscience." "That makes me think, Mrs. Sterling, what a pity it is that business in the city has to be carried on in such a way as- to keep most persons in a constant state of anxiety; many men seem to be all the time in trouble about their money affairs. I do not see how they can even sleep quietly, to say nothing of enjoyment." "Yes, James, that is a great evil ; and not- being conver- sant with such matters, myself, I cannot say how it could be remedied ; but I have known husbands and their wives, and indeed whole families, made unhappy from that single cause. A man whose mind is distracted with care, must be a very good man indeed, if he can maintain in his home a calm, just, pleasant demeanor, toward his wife and children. He is too . t A! .. . - page: 246-247[View Page 246-247] 246 TARE AND UNLIKE. apt to be affected by his anxieties, and to let trifles at home stir up whatever is evil in him, and unless he has a wife pos- sessed of uncommon patience and good temper, there will be hard feelings and harsh words. The spirit which -a man car- ries home with him will, in spite of himself, have its influence on his household." "It must be delightful to carry on business as Mr. Sterling does; he never has occasion to borrow, although he is con- stantly lending money to his friends ; he owes nothing but what he can pay at any moment." X "I He has always done so, James; he did' business accord-, ing to his means ; he began with a very small capital, and did a small business, and lived, as he has told me, very economi- cally. As his means grew, he enlarged his business ; he did a regular business; he never could be tempted to speculate, but kept steadily on, attending very closely to everything. He has told me that he never had to lose any time by running round to borrow money, nor in contriving ways and means to pay his notes ; and he could always go to bed t night and sleep soundly, without any anxiety about the morrow ; that was a great thing ; and I have no doubt has prevented any of that trouble which so many husbands and wives have to go through; for, as I have said already, a great cause for much of the unhappiness of married life, is the distracted state of the husband's mind."' "Why, Mrs. Sterling, there are some of our neighbors who live by borrowing money from day to day; I have heard them say so themselves, in our office ; it must be a wretched state of existence, and yet they live in fine houses and see a good deal of company. I don't see how they can live so." It cannot be called living, James; it is certainly not the true way to live ; their fine houses and fine furniture cannot give them happiness under such circumstances; they may put on its appearance and be lively and cheerful in company, but when they are alone, or with their families, there must be very sad thoughts obtruding to spoil their peace; my own opinion is-but perhaps it is not the correct one, for I am only a woman, you know, and cannot be expected to understand much about such matters-but my belief is, that the growing extravagance in living is at the bottom of a great deal of evil. We are all affected by one another; a young man who marries does not like to live in poorer style than those he associates with, andtis thus tempted to launch out, and trust to anticipated prosperity in business to enable him to meet [" 1 "IrKE AND UNLIKE. 247 his expenses; there, I think, is the evil. But a greater evil than any we have mentioned yet, arising from living beyond our means, and burdening ourselves in consequence with dis- tracting care, is its effect upon our religious feelings. It is a great hindrance to true piety to be in such a state of mind as those must be who are thus overloaded; for while it may be true that trials are necessary for us, and that riches and prosperity tend to draw the mind from God, yet the anxieties of life on account of a distracted state of business and the corroding power of care, unfit one for the enjoyment of religion; and a sense of constant obligations to our fellow- men, produces an obsequiousness of manner, and a feeling of dependence at variance with true Christian nobility. A man may be poor and obliged to work for his daily bread, and yet have a free mind and be joyful in the Lord; but when he has to feel that he must court the favor of this man, and avoid giving offence to that man, because he needs their name or their money, and has such a burden of expenses to carry, that he must involve himself in enormous risks in order to meet them, the cares of the world, then, are enough to eat out piety from his heart. But I am reading you quite a lecture, James; I am sure I did not design any such thing when I asked you if you loved the countr'y." Just then, a young man in sailor's garb walked past, and looked keenly at James, as he sprang up the quarter-deck. James had noticed him before, and supposed at first that he was one of the hands, until he saw that he took no active part on board, and confined himself during the whole after- noon to a book, in which he seemed much interested. He was also dressed very differently from any of the hands on board, or any common sailor James had ever seen. He was appareled, indeed, in blue, the usual sailor's color, but the set of the garments was of a genteel fashion, just such as an officer in the navy might have worn as an undress; his coat was a roundabout, well fitted to his person, and his nether garments fitting snugly on his light boots; his collar lay open, sailor-fashion, with a dark silk neckerchief tied loosely under it; his hair was quite dark and somewhat disposed to curl, and his face, when James occasionally'Caught a glimpse of it, rather handsome; but it was a glimpse merely he could obtain, and that by accident, for the young man had his back toward him; it was only when looking in that direction, he once or twice met his countenance, as though the young man had been looking at him; but the face was page: 248-249[View Page 248-249] 248 LIKE AND UNLIKE. quickly turned away, and again bent over his book. As he passed now he looked fixedly at James, and for the moment the latter thought he was going to address him, but he sprang up to the quarter-deck and walked once or twice across it, and then coming back stood deliberately before James, who immediately arose. "You will pardon me, sir," he said, " if I am mistaken; but is not your name Beaufort?" "That is my name." "Perhaps you will remember once travelling some miles with rather a rough specimen of a young sailor. My name is Thompson." "Oh, I do, I do," and James extended his hand, which was cordially grasped. "But you have altered very much!" "I suppose I have; I am no longer in the forecastle, and cabin fare helps a man somewhat. I have just come in from Liverpool, first mate of the Amelia, Capt. Waite.'" "Indeed! I am rejoiced to hear that; she is a fine ship, and has a fine captain." "That she is; and he as fine a captain and as true a gentle- man as ever trod a quarter-deck." "You have been very fortunate," said Mrs. Sterling, " you iare quite young to be so promoted." "I am just past twenty-one, madam; and I can tell you, madam, if it had not been for your son here--I take it you are his mother"--he saw Mrs. Sterling smile and look at James, but before the latter could reply, she spoke. I should not be ashamed to own him as such, but I have not that pleasure." : This is Mrs. Sterling. She has been a mother to me, and her husband has been a true /father." "Then you have, no doubt, fallen into good hands ; but I knew you would. I was about to say, madam, I owe to this young gentleman all that I now am or yet hope to be," and so saying, he laid his hands on James, shoulder. "How is that, do tell me!" and Mrs. Sterling looked at him with much earnestness. In the first place," turning to James, " you will remem. ber my breaking my rum flask?" "I do." s And what you said to me at the time, that influenced ma to do it?" "' I remember something about it." ' -l "KE AND UNLIKE. 249 "Well, from that day to this not a drop of liquor have I tasted, and with God's help, I never mean to taste it, except it be given me when I am sick." "A good resolve," said Mrs. Sterling. "That was my first step in the right direction; nothing hinders a sailor's rising as the use and abuse of liquor. And the next right step was a determination to try to know some- thing. All the time we walked together, madam, I found he had something to talk about-he would sometimes relate anecdotes he had got from books, sometimes repeat beautiful verses of poetry he had learned, and he would sometimes pick a flower and take it to pieces, and tell the names of its different parts. And then he talked to me about reading and trying to improve myself, and that I might, by doing so, rise far above the station of a common sailor. I laughed at him, I know, but I did not forget what he said. I did take to reading and to study, and soon made myself, with some help, master of navigation, and am not now afraid to carry a vessel to any quarter of the world. But that is not the best of it, although by that means and a readiness to handle a ship, I am what I now am. But I have to thank him for a greater benefit than all this; but that, I believe, I must tell him when he and I are alone." "Oh, do let nme hear it; whatever concerns him is of inte- rest to me, and I feel already interested in you. Do let me hear it." "It is somewhat of a private matter; but as you wish it, madam, you shall hear the whole story. We slept twice, madam, in the same room, and although he was but a' boy then, he wasn't ashamed to let me know that he feared God" -the voice of the young man began to tremble--" he wasn't ashamed to ask me to kneel down--and-those prayers-I shall never forget"-- He could go no further. The hardy young seaman did indeed keep back the tears; but his evident emotion acted like electricity upon the listeners. James was deeply affected, and Mrs. Sterling had all her woman's heart stirred to its very depths. She was, however, the first to break silence: "I hope, my dear James, you will remember this. Oh, how true it is, they that fear God and honor him, he will honor! And I hope you too, my young friend, will remem- ber it, and never be ashamed to let your companions know that you feel dependent on Almighty care, and are not ashamed to ask it." "* page: 250-251[View Page 250-251] Z0U . LIKE AND UNLIKE. "I hope I may be able, madam, at all times to do my duty." "I suppose you are on your way to visit your friends. Have you parents living?" "I have a mother, madam, and a young sister. I have not seen them since I and Mr. Beaufort had that tramp together." "Indeed! Have you been a long voyage?" "Oh, no, ma'm. I have made several voyages to Liver- pool and' Boston, but I thought I would not waste my time on going home, and I had a friend at Boston who helped me in studying navigation, and thought I would not- go home until I could carry some money in my pocket, and tell my mother that -I was above board and able hereafter to be her support." "How happy she will be, and how happy you must be! But I must leave you young gentlemen to have a good talk together. We shall see each other in the morning, and Mr. Beaufort must give you our direction in New York, where we shall at some time hope to see you." '"I should be most happy to call, madam." Long did the young men walk the deck together; each had a story to tell of the way in which he had been led. To James, however, the recital of the young sailor was of the deepest interest. The struggles of manly -fortitude which the latter had made caused him to feel that his own story had been tame indeed; and as they conversed and their similarity of views and purposes were unfolded their hearts became linked as in a common bond, and they filt that hereafter they would be friiends. The morning had dawned before they reached the dock, and Mrs. Sterling was up and on deck to witness the day breaking over the mountains, and to see the sun streaks gild- ing the tops of the western hills. All was fresh and beauti- ful; a few fog clouds were creeping up the sides of Beacon Hill, and as they reached its summit, were brightened into gold by the rising sun. The lovely landscape beneath the mountains lay apparently still in slumber, with only here and there a light curl of smoke ascending from some unseen dwelling, James soon succeeded in procuring a conveyance, and before the sun had reached the low lands of the valley, he and his companion were riding through the lovely winding road that leads from Fishkill through the, opening in the mountains toward the south. i . . . . "KE AND UNLIKE. 251 Thirteen miles under such circumstances were of no account, with the exception that a good appetite made them long for breakfast, and the anticipation of a joyful meeting made them sometimes wish for more rapid progress. "You see those trees, yonder, Mrs. Sterling, a little higher than the rest?" "I do." "There is my home." "Close at hand, then. What a snug home it seems, James." "Very plain, though." "Vhat of that? I am sure everything looks in perfect order." This she said just as the wagon drove uap to the door. A middle-aged lady appeared, whom Mrs. Sterling at once recognized as Mrs. Beaufort. James had talked so much about his mother, and described her so minutely, that it needed not the uplifted hands and the tearful eye to have told her who the lady was; a moment Mrs. Sterling remained behind to let the mother take her boy to her arms, and then, while his sisters were holding him and weeping on his neck, she stepped up to receive her embrace. It was no common greeting that passed between them-; scarce a word-was said, they were already acquainted; they already felt a common ti.; they met as loving sisters might have done after a long absence. And then the girls! two sweet, bright creatures, came with tears still on their lovely cheeks, and kissed the dear woman who had been such a friend and mother to their James, and she pressed them to her and wept with them in the fullness of their joy., That breakfast was an era in their life, and long there- after did Mrs. Sterling recur to it; everything was so savory, seasoned with joy so full, and love so pure and gushing. The building was indeed plain, as James had said-a one- story common farm-house, with four rooms on the floor and two in the attic. The rooms were of fair size, the furniture in them was plain, but in the neatest- order; the walls of two of the rooms had been recently papered, and by the girls themselves; a genteel aspect was very evident, in spite of the simple furnishing; flowers gave a pleasant perfume to the air, and the refined manners of the mother and her daugh- ters would have made any one far more particular than was page: 252-253[View Page 252-253] iO LIaKE AND UNLIKE. Mrs. Sterling as to sumptuous appearance, feel that it was no common family into which she had been introduced. Mrs. Beaufort had been in her earlier days distinguished for her good looks; care, however, and trouble of no ordinary kind, had marred her beauty; traces though of what had been were yet visible: her eye still sparkled brightly, and her brown hair was uninjured by age; her complexion was fair, although the color which mantled her cheek in youth had departed; the expression of her countenance was mild, but very sedate. She dressed neatly and with lady-like care, and her gait, as well as her manner, showed that, with her reduced circumstances she had not descended in her own estimation. She was the lady still, although not afraid nor ashamed to attend personally to domestic labor. Mary, the elder daughter, was now sixteen; not much resemblance did she bear to James, for her countenance was of the sparkling order, a smile ever playing over it, and her tongue as lively as one could wish. She was handsome, and of a beautiful figure, and seemed fond of making herself appear to the best advantage, yet without the least appearance of vanity, and as ready as her mother to do whatever her hands found to do. The younger daughter, Julia, was more like her brother in looks and manner. She was fourteen, rather delicate in frame, and the counterpart of her sister in affability; but she was by no means of a reserved temper, and manifested a warm heart, although the smile did not so readily come to lighten her features. Soon after breakfast, James walked out to view the premi- ses, and his critical eye told him that his request had been attended to; all was straight and whole and neat. He walked through the little garden, and was delighted to see. the flowers in bloom and the weeds missing; he passed through the gate into the adjoining meadow; the spring was clear and sparkling; the willow branches had been untouched and hung gracefully over it, and a seat had been newly made between the trees; he sat down upon it, and watched the rippling stream as it wended its way through the neat outlet which had been prepared for it; flowers, too, he saw had been planted and were blooming luxuriantly, and a sweet briar sent its perfume on the air; a sister's hand had, no doubt, done it all, or ,her taste had directed what her hands could not accomplish. It-was a moment of rich enjoyment, and his heart sent forth warm thanks to Him who had thus I r . - "KE AND 'UNLIKE. 253 crowned his efforts for the comfort of those so dear to him. But he was not long alone, for the little gate is opened and Mary comes and puts her arm about his neck, and seats her- self beside him. ' Does this suit you, Bub?" "Oh, perfectly-far prettier it is than I expected to find it. "I thought you would like these flowers; but, now come tell me all about your home, and about that Miss Matilda. I know you are in love with her, James, and I know she can- not help loving you." "Dear sister, you are greatly mistaken. She is a very lovely girl, but I have no such idea in my mind, and, besides, for that matter, she is already, I guess, appropriated." "To her cousin! I don't believe it." "Well, if you knew as much as I do you would believe it. He is over head and ears in love with her, at any rate." "That is of no consequence, if she does not care for him. Does she love him, do you think?" "I cannot say, but I should judge she has too much sense and has been too well brought up to allow herself to indulge any feeling of that sort at present. She is kind to her cousin, and so she is to me. I don't believe she thinks of any one in particular." "Then you have -as good a chance as he has." "Oh, Mary, do let us talk of something else; you are crazy this- morning." "I suppose I am, and you have made me so, dear Bub. But is she not a lovely woman-I mean Mrs. Sterling-and tl how much she does think of you! I should think you would love her, at any rate." "I do love her-I have great reason to--if you could see how I am treated; if you could see my room and how nicely it is fixed, and how much care is taken of all my things, you would be satisfied that I owe a great deal to her; but I must go and call on the neighbors and see them, or they will think perhaps, that I have become proud and feel above them,. and then I must try to hire a carriage to drive Mrs. Sterling about in." "Not to day, James; she must rest to-day." "No; but to-morrow I should like to ride with her. and show her all the beautiful locations." "And you must mind and call on Letty; poor Letty always asks about you-and Emma, too." page: 254-255[View Page 254-255] 254 LIKE AND UNLIKE. " I suppose - must." "You suppose you must! Why, poor things, they were almost heart-broken when you went away." "I guess not very much broken." ( Well, you must take care; Emma is quite a young lady now; you will have to be on your guard." "No danger, Sis; I told you I have got over all such -feelings; I never think of the girls." "Well, we shall see; only, if you do not mean to keep up the old flame, you must guard your conduct." "Do, Sis--verily, you talk more wildly than ever; your head is full of" "It is full of my dear brother James. I suppose, because I love you so much myself, I think all the rest of the girls must; but come, I won't bother you any more; go and make your call, but don't stay too long; I shall count all the minutes you arie out of my sight." "I cannot go just yet, for I have not opened my trunk, and I have something to show you there." And, -with her arm around his waist and his resting on her shoulder, they walked toward the house. '"James is very happy, now," said Mrs. Sterling to his mother, as they stood watching the brother and sister, appa- rently in high glee, together. "And Mary is happy, too; she has missed James sadly." "It is so delightful to witness such affection! what a safe- guard it must be for a young man to have such sisters, and to be so fond of them, as James seems to be." "James has always made a confidant of Mary; I believe they know each other's thoughts pretty well." "Now, mother, dear, I have not much for you and the dear girls; but whatever there is, we will have them out. Come and see me open my trunk." '"My dear boy, I am happy enough to see you, without a thought of anything else; I have daily cause to think of you and your kind heart." '"And I suppose I may go, too?" "Oh, by all means, Mrs. Sterling; without you I should have nothing to give.'"' '"You must not say so, James; you are more indebted to this dear mother of yours, and your own good conduct, than to anything that we have done." "Oh, you cannot think how your words go to my heart," said -Mrs. Beaufort; "it has been my hope that he would TTKE AND UNLIKE. 255 prove abroad and among strangers what he has ever been at home, and to hear you, who have had a chance to know, speak of him thus, is grateful news to me, I can assure you." "There, mamma, is a dress pattern; if you like the style of goods, you must thank Mrs. Sterling, for she selected it." "Beautiful! mamma, oh, how perfectly neat!" exclaimed Mary, unfolding it to view. "There, you must take that," embracing him ; C a mother's kiss is all I have wherewith to repay you." "Dear mother, the pay has been received long years ago; it is my turn, now, to try and make some little remuneration to you." "I selected that pattern, Mrs. Beaufort, because James had so admired one I wore of the same; I thought, proba- bly, your taste and his were somewhat alike." "And your taste and my mother's, Mrs. Sterling." "' Well, James, I think they are." "Oh, what is this!" exclaimed Mary, as James placed the needle-book in her hand, and commenced to untie the pretty ribbon which confined it; but when its neat workmanship was noticed, and the store of needles and the beautiful' etceteras it contained, she turned her glowing face up at Mrs. Sterling, her soft eyes glistening with the coming tear. "It is not from me, my dear! Matilda made it and filled it according to her own taste." "I must kiss somebody for it, then, who can give the kiss 'to her." "I will gladly receive it, then, my dear ;" as she folded the lovely girl in her embrace; " and will try to give Matilda as sweet a one, when I see her." "And I must kiss this boy, too,- for if he had not been a good boy, his sister would never have received such a splen- did gift, that I know." "Do, Sis; how you squeeze me!" "Because I love you so." "This is for Julia; that, too, she must thank Mrs. Sterling for'." "I hardly knew what to get for Miss Julia, it is a mere trifle., But Julia did not think them trifles, by any means; they were costly articles, and of the neatest pattern. "Try these gloves on, Julia, and if they fit, I can tell you whose hands are the size of yours." page: 256-257[View Page 256-257] 256 . TTF AND UNLIKE. "An exact fit-oh, how nice!" "I knew they would be, and those, Mary, are a size larger. I hope they will suit." "' How could you guess so near?" "Oh, you know I always notice ladies' hands and feet." ' Yes, ande" "Mary!" "Never fear. But I shall not tell of you. "There is one thing I must do, mamma, this very day ; I must go and call on Mr. Langstaff." "t Your minister?" said Mrs. Sterling. "Yes ma'm, I feel much indebted to him." (c an I not go with you, James; I want much to see -him?" "Yes malm, certainly, by all means." "Have you ever seen him, Mrs. Sterling?" "Oh, yes, but I was quite young; he used occasionally to preach in our parish." TImmediately after dinner, James drove up with a neat con- veyance he had procured, and they started on their visit to the old pastor. It was not more than a mile and a half in a direct line, but James wished to show Mrs. Sterling as much of the place as he could without going too far out of their way. He made a circuit not long after leaving the house, into a pleasant road lined with trees of oak, chestnut and hickory; the land was not hilly, but gently rolling; the fields were rich, and the heavy grass on many of them was being cut, and lay spread out to the sun, and men and boys were busy, some pitching and some raking, while others were in the act of loading their carts and wagons ; presently a lady on a fine black horse was seen approaching. She was coming on a gentle canter, and as she drove near to them, James checked his horse somewhat while turning out to give her the road. The lady also slackened her pace; she smiled, and both stopped. She came up close by the carriage. "'I had liked to have gone by and not recognized you!" said the lady, as she extended her hand. "Mrs. Sterling, Miss- Emma Langdon." "I am very glad to see you," said James. "And are you not glad to see Jennie, too?" "Oh, yes," and James patted the pretty creature's neck as she tossed it up and down; "she looks in fine order." "KE AND UNLIKE. 257 "I make them take good care of her ; she is a lovely crea- ture. I wonder if she remembelrs you!" James had drawn the horse's head toward him, and was smoothing down her face and speaking in gentle terms to her, until she rested her head on his outstretched arm. "I think she soon would recognize her old master. She and I have had nice times together." '"And she and I have nice times together, I can tell you. I heard you were expected home. You will call on us, I hope." "Oh,^ certainly." "Perhaps you were going our way now? If so, I will return with you at once." "Oh, thank you; we were going your way, but not to call this afternoon. I am on the way to see Mr. Langstaff, and have only come upon this road to show my friend here, Mrs. Sterling, some of our pleasant places." You will certainly let us see you, then?", "By all means., And the lady went off again on a canter, and James drove on his way. "Quite a pleasant countenance that young lady has,' said Mrs. Sterling , ; " she rides well, too., "Her horse is an easy one to ride ; he is one I broke to the saddle mnyself." "You formerly owned him, then?", "Oh, yes, ma'm, she was raised on our farm; my father gave her to me when a colt. I trained her to the saddle. She has never been used in harness. She would follow me, or come to me at my call, just like a dog." You must have been very fond of her?, "Indeed I was, I had to keep by myself the day she was sold ; I felt like a baby, but I did not want mamma to see how badly I felt.', "It must indeed have been a trial, a severe trial; you have all suffered in parlting not only with your place, but with so many other luxuries you had been accustomed to. Can you show me your old place while we are here?", "We are coming to it, now, Mrs. Sterling I thought I should not only like to have you see it, but I felt just like taking a look at it myself. I think I can look at it now with different feelings from what I had before I left home-then I could not bear to come in sight of it." page: 258-259[View Page 258-259] 258 TLTTE AND UNLIKE. "I What do you think makes you feel differently now, James? Time! do you suppose?" 'I Not altogether that, Mrs. Sterling; but I have had some experience that has taught me that happiness does not depend so much upon being in a particular place, or having certain elegances or luxuries about one. I have found that we are as much respected-I mean my mother and sisters--and have as much attention by all who are worthy and respectable, as when we lived in a fine house, and had servants and horses and carriages at our command. It has been hard, to be sure, to feel that we had our own hands to depend upon for our support but if, we had not been reduced, I might never have felt the necessity of exerting myself; I should not have made such friends as I hope I now have, and I believe we all love one another more for the fall, and the trouble we have passed through. I can now look upon that place, and think that if we lived there still, I should not have the same experience of God's care and goodness as I now have, nor feel that trust in "My dear James, I am heartily rejoiced to hear you speak so; it convinces me that you are indeed learning by the teaching of your Heavenly Father; and I am glad also to hear you say that you find reduced circumstances are not necessarily connected with the loss of such friends as are worth the having; true respectability does not depend upon the f:act hether we live in a palace or a cottage, and it is a great pity that truth was not more generally realized, it would save a vast amount of money as well as a vast amount of trial. Oh, I am so glad, that out of the 'dead carcass you have extracted honey!'" "These fields-all that you see so well fenced-were ours." "And was that your house?" "Yes, ma'm, that is the place." "A beautiful place, indeed; a perfect palace of a house! and what a splendid avenue leading to it! there must be a fine prospect fron it.' "The finest prospect in this region; through that opening in the mountains, a long stretch of the river is visible, and as the house is on rising ground, the country round, with its variety of hill and dale, is all before you." "What noble barns! all of stone, too! You must have had a great many acres, to have needed such store-houses." "Five hundred acres belong to the estate, that are culti- "KE AND UNLIKE. 259 vated, and all rich land; and besides, about two hundred acres of mountain land." "A noble property, indeed!" "The present owner, however, with all his means, is not much thought of here; he has made money in New York, and he has many visitors in the summer from the city, but he is quite an illiterate man. I am saying, however, what I ought not to; for the owner is Mr. Gaines, the partner of Mr. Roff. I knew when Miss fary Roff said she had been invited to visit at Mr. Gaines' country seat, it was our old place, but I have said nothing about it." "I am not surprised to hear you say that; for, I believe, Sister Roff does not like hinm; but he has in some way accumulated money, and I suppose his capital is of con- sequence in the concern. I have heard Mr. Sterling say that the estate which Mr. Gaines had purchased in the country had not altogether a very sure title. He bought it very cheap, though, I believe, and concluded to run the risk." "I believe there is a flaw somewhere, but the law was against us, and the -court so decided. Judge Jones, how- ever, has told me, as I once mentioned to you, that while he was obliged to decide according to the strict letter of the law, yet he felt well assured that in chancery it might be very different. But we have no means to carry it there; it would be very expensive, and there is no one to see to it." "Your timne may come yet, James." "Possibly! however, I try- not to think about it. But here we are at the parsonage." The wagon stopped before a small stone house, embowered in shrubs and trees, and with an appearance of great neat- ness and order in everything around it. They alighted and entered the small front yard, by the side of whose path was a profusion of flowers in two borders, in which a weed could not be seen. They were ushered into a -small parlor, also very neat, -though plain; a pleasant flavor pervaded the atmosphere of the room, doubtless from a large bouquet of flowers that stood upon a table in one of its corners. It was but a few moments before they heard a moderate step descending the stairs, and a venerable looking gentleman, with a loose, silk gown, and his hair white and glossy, entered, and bowing very low to Mrs. Sterling, came up first - to her. James arose and introduced the lady, when the page: 260-261[View Page 260-261] 260 LIKE AND UNLTKE. gentleman, casting a glance at him, immediately grasped his hand. "My dear son! My dear James! can it be you! pardon me for not at first-recognizing your well-known features; how glad I anm to see you-and this lady?" "This lady is my kind friend whom my mother has told you of-Mrs. Sterling." "Madam, I bid you welcome with all my heart; glad am I to see the lady who has been so kind to the fatherless. May God enrich your soul with his abundant grace and pour into your lap so much of his earthly bounty as will be for your best good and his glory." Mrs. Sterling could not at once reply; the cordial greet- ing of the good old man had touched her heart, and his benevolent face shone with such evident tokens of feeling, that the tears had started to her eyes. "Good is the Lord, my dear madam; oh, how good! I hope you can respond to it with your heart." "I can, sir." ' And you love Him." "I hope I do-in some measure.'" "Oh, that is good! our love is never thrown away when God is its object. He gives more than he receives; He is all bountiful. Well, madam, I trust you have found this boy, or, I ought now to say, this young man, faithful in all things." "We have, sir; most truly so." "A worthy answer for you, my dear boy; may God give you grace so to live that this same testimony may be honestly given on your behalf by all who may ever have dealings with you; but go into the house and see Aunt Eunice, and the girls, my grandchildren." James at once left the room. "It gives me unspeakable pleasure, my dear madam, to hear ydur report of my young friend; he is almost like a child to me, and sad was the day when I bade him farewell and knew upon what errand he was bound; it is a terrible adventure for a boy like him to go alone into such a Babel as New York, and seek his own way; but I followed him every day with my prayers for his safety, and that he might, above all, be preserved from the ravenous wolves that infest a great city." "Your prayers, my good sir, have been wonderfully answered. And your good letter was of great service to him. My husband accidentally" I, II . "KE AND UNLIKE. 261 '"Please say providentially.?' "I stand corrected, sir; I ought to have said so. My husband providentially came across him at an office where James was making application for -employment, and the gen- tlemen, who were irreligious men, showed the letter to him; they were unwilling to engage him, but Mr. Sterling, although not then a professor of religion, felt a confidence in the boy from what you said of him, and took him on trial. But he has proved all we could desire. He is not an ordinary young man; he has superior abilities, and is as stable and col- sistent as an advanced Christian, and, indeed, often puts me to shame by his steady principle. We think very highly of him." "This is glorious news, madam; but that boy had a good family training; a noble woman is his mother; he has been nurtured in the admonition of the Lord; and that is not all; he has been trained up in the nicest principles of honor, and has been always in the atmosphere of refinement. You find his manners very gentlemanly?" "Perfectly so; a gentleman throughout." "Well, madam, it is a great pleasure to me, I can assure you, to find one of the lambs of my flock so provided for by the great Shepherd. The Lord does not forsake the children of the covenant-not, if they trust in Him." "I suppose, sir, you feel a deep interest in the young peo- ple born under your ministry." "They are my children, madam--all my children; they are the constant subjects of my prayers, and of my watch wheri they will allow it; but times are changing, madam; the youing are not what young people were many years ago. The aged are not respected as they once were; that would, of itself, be of little consequence, but it is good for the young to feel respect and even reverence for grey hairs. Times are changing, madam." "You have a long while been a pastor here, Mr. Lang- staff." "Forty-eight years, madam; my work is about done." "But you appear robust yet, sir." "I am so, madam, for my years- seventy-four; but a new generation has arisen in that time, and I know it cannot be that one of my years can be as acceptable as a younger man. I do not wish my people to be anxious for my death, and have, therefore, released them from all obligations to me." "And has another pastor been chosen?" page: 262-263[View Page 262-263] 262 LIKE AND UNLIKE. - "Not yet, madam; but they are about to do so. I thought that by relieving them from their bond to me, I could unite with them more satisfactorily in selecting the right one, for I cannot rid myself of the deep interest I have for this flock; I have fed them too long- for that. But we are in trouble, just now, from a source that I fear will work evil in our churches; a set of wandering preachers, who have no settled abode, are going about, stirring up what they call revivals of religion; they are many of them quite young men with much apparent zeal but little knowledge; they trust a good deal to exciting discourses and to all kinds of means which may tend to inflame the sympathies; many crowd to hear them, and, doubtless, some good is done--but some evil too. The minds, especially of the young, are led to tire of the simple truths of Scripture; they. talk a great deal about zeal for the Lord and warmth of affection, and put away, I fear, too much the great idea that no true fire can be kindled but by the Spirit of God, and that the Spirit of God comes when there is penitence and humility and an emptying of self." "The Spirit himself produces those exercises, does he not, sir?" "Undoubtedly, madam; but when God is preparing his people for so great a benefit as an effusion of His Spirit, He leads them to humble themselves before Him, to review their lives, to mourn for their backslidings and deficiencies, and from the dust to cry unto Him for help. Excitement may* create apparent good for a time, but no other than the Spirit himself can really new create a man and keep him in the straight and narrow way. It is a great work, madam, to make a true Christian, and none but God can do it. And when his people have their minds drawn off to second causes and strive by human agency to force things, they are not so apt to look to him alone." ! "Very true, sir."' "And we have now one among us; I hope he is a good man, but he works, I fear, with untempered mortar;-he uses strange means, and some, I think, that are quite unbe- coming. He is rude, at times, in his address to individuals and to families; he will break in upon them at unreasonable hours; he will tell them But I will not pain your ears, ' madam, with all the discourteous and unwarrantable expres- sions he uses." "Do the people like this?" TTK AND UNLIKE. 263 "Most people are fond of excitement. All do not, by any means, fancy his doings, but they do not care to say toc much. The Lord reigns and He will take care for his Church, but I fear me greatly that there will be very many gotten into the Church who will prove a hindrance rather than a bless- in." James now entered, and Mr. Langstaff immediately turned to him. '"You find the old parsonage and its inhabitants pretty much the same as when you left. Did they know you?" "Oh, yes, sir; but think I have altered very much." "Indeed, you have; you have increased in stature, and I hope it can be also said of you that you have increased in favor with God and man." "I have great reason to thank you, Mr. Langstaff, for that letter you gave me. I wrote my thanks to you, but I wish also to express them personally. Your letter has done everything for me." ("The Lord, my son. The Lord has gone before you and made friends for you, and I trust He will ever be your guide. He will, if you keep near to Him. He will never forsake the one who trusts in Him. But, must you go?" "I believe we must, if Mrs. Sterling is ready." "I have enjoyed this interview much, my dear sir, and hope it may not be the last." "I trust not, madam, the Lord willing. I will do myself the pleasure of calling at your house, James, in a day or two." "What a type that man is," said Mrs. Sterling, as they drove from the house, "' of a true pastor." "He has been, indeed, very faithful; he is a man of true piety and good sense, although he is peculiar in his preach- ing; but he has done great good here. He loves his people very much." "-Is he dependent upon his salary?" "No, ma'm; he has a small income of his own." "I am rejoiced to hear that, for he tells me they are about to procure a new ministerl.", "Yes, ma'm; but it will not be easy for them to get one who will fill his place; in fact, the great majority of the peo- ple will look to him as long as he lives for adviceand instruc- tion." t"And the more so that they do not feel bound to listen to him every Sabbath. He has shown his good sense in resign- page: 264-265[View Page 264-265] 264 LT- - AND UNLIKE. ing; he can be very useful to his people yet. Too many ministers forget that their power to be useful as preachers is not what it was in their early and middle life. A younger man can fill the pulpit better, but the older one is needed as a. counsellor. I always feel sorry for a minister and for his people, when I see him clinging in advanced life to a post he cannot profitably fill, and thinking all the time that he is as efficient as ever.", Two carriages were standing at the door, and when Mrs. Sterling and James entered the house, quite a circle of ladies filled the little parlor. Mrs. Sterling noticed that the visitors were by no means cQmmon or ordinary people, and learned afterward that they lived in some of the handsome residences which James had pointed out to her on their ride. "'I see, Mrs. Beaufort," she said, "that you are not ne- glected because you do not still live in the beautiful house you once occupied." "It is different in that respect, Mrs. Sterling, from my anticipations; in fact, I believe we have more frequent calls now than we did then. No ma'm; our change has not been so trying for that reason, and I have myself learned some good lessons from it. We have many imaginary wants, and are too apt to look upon some external advantages as abso- lutely necessary. Life might be much happier to many peo- ple if they could disabuse their minds of the idea that respect- ability or true social enjoyment was confined to a sumptuous abode or all its accompaniments. I cannot say, in truth, but we are as really happy as we ever were."5 That evening, too, exhibited a pleasant scene of social enjoyment; some ladies and several gentlemen were there. The physician of the place and his wife and daughter; a young lawyer, who seemed to be particularly anxious to entertain Miss Mary, and two gentlemen of very agreeable manners, one of them a retired merchant from the city, a resident of the place, and the other a visitor at his house. Mrs. Beaufort seemed the centre of attraction to them all. Her agreeable manner, her pleasant conversational powers,- and her well stored mind enabled her with perfect ease not only to bear her part in any subject that was started, but to prevent the least appearance of flagging in the flow of plea- sant communion. Mrs. Sterling was much affected by the contrast, between the scene of this evening and such as she was accustomed to in the city. Here subjects were can- vassed which tended to inform the mind and bring out its I . ' - " * "KE AND UNLIKE. 265 powers; in the city, the usual topics were those of casual interest-the news of the day, the rise or fall of stocks, the state of business, or the improvement of property. And she now understood how it was that James had such an impulse given to his mind in the right direction. Her own reading had been more particularly confined to religious subjects, and beyond them her knowledge was quite limited, and for the first time the thought occurred to her that a Christian might be much more useful with a good store of general know- ledge; in fact, that a Christian mother could not well do all her duty without it. Her own deficiency somewhat depressed her spirits, for, although she much enjoyed the conversation and was delighted with the new ideas which flashed upon her mind, yet it was somewhat humiliating to be referred to for an opinion upon a matter that she was unable to throw any light upon. "I fear," said her kind hostess to her, after the company had retired, " that your day's labors have wearied you." "By no means; the scenes have. been so varied and so delightful that I feel refreshed rather titan wearied. I sup- pose I may seem somewhat thoughtful, for the scene this evening has been new to me, and I hope I have learned a lesson that I will try to profit by." "Indeed! well, I should be glad to know that anything should have transpired in my poor home that you should learn anything fromn." At the same time a pleasant smile shone on the face of Mrs. Beaufort. "You niust not call your home, my dear Mrs. Beaufort, by such a naughty name. I assure you, it is one any lady might be proud of; believe me, I have not listened to con- versations so calculated to interest and enlarge the mind, and to quicken it, too, as I have this evening; and you have made me feel that I have much to do yet in order to be what I wish to be-a well-informed Christian mother. My read- ing, I see now, has been too exclusively devoted to one part of duty--the regulating of my feelings and thoughts and conduct as a Christian. I have not attended sufficiently to collateral subjects. The operation of the mind, God's no- blest work--The pirovidence of God as unfolded in the his- tory of man-The creation of God in the works of nature, present, I see, a beautiful study for the Christian, and one which we cannot well be ignorant of; but I am young 12 - page: 266-267[View Page 266-267] 266 LIKE AND UNLIKE. enough yet not to despair. I shall turn over a new leaf when I get home." - I believe, with you, many of us err in that respect. I have not relished, as some do, what are called religious books-I mean works exclusively -devoted to the delineation of Christian character, the regulating the affections and analyzing the thoughts and feelings; to me, there is nothing so clear and instructing on these points as the Bible itself. I feel safer to draw from the pure fountain; its doctrines appear plainer as I get them, there, and its directions are very clear and critical, too. My reading has been generally confined to the subjects you have named, but sometimes I have been afraid that I neglected too much those helps to Christian nurture which are so abundant now; perhaps one reason has been that the few books which I reserved from the- sale of our library were those that related to history, civil and natural. Since then I have not had the means to procure new works." Mary just then stepped up and said a few words to her mother, in a low tone. "' By all means ; call James. Can it be it is ten o'clock?" Mary then placed the family Bible on the stand and a hymn-book by its side. James, with his sister Julia hanging on his arm, entered, and he at once took his seat and opened the Bible. Mrs. Sterling had not before heard James lead in prayer, and she was deeply affected by its simplicity and appropriate- ness; it was short, well conceived, without repetition, and with becoming reverence; and when he came up to her after the exercises, to bid her good night, she could not help saying, as she gave him a mother's kiss: "God bless you, my dear boy." James had risen greatly in her estimation from the scenes of that day. She now knew, as she could not have known before, th e foundation upon which his character had been formed; it was not merely the growth of circumstances, arising from the misfortunes he had met in common with his family, nor the stimulus which his mind was under to pro- vide for himself and those dear to him, that had caused his regular deportment and his energetic action, and that led him to untiring diligence in cultivating his mind. He had been nurtured in them; they were a part of his family train- rag. "KE AND UNLIKE 267 - CHAPTER ,XV. "WwEu do you design making that visit to our young sailor friend, you promised him?" said Mrs. Sterling, a few days after the scenes recorded in the last chapter. "I will go this very day, if you say so." us am ready any time; and can we not take Julia-with us?" "Certainly, I should be glad to; I have promised her a ride. In a few minutes I will be ready.' It was a ride of nine miles to the place, but Mrs. Sterling now thought nothing of that, even without a cover to their wagon. The wagon was a light concern, on springs, and could accommodate two seats when necessary. Nine miles amid varied mountain scenery, and with pleasant companions, were soon passed over ; it was, however, nearly eleven o'clock be- fore they reached their destination. "He has begun in earnest to fix up," said James. Is that the house, brother?" "So they told me at the last place I inquired." "They seem to be tearing it to pieces." "They are putting a new roof on ; it is a small concern, smaller than ours.'" The house was indeed a small one; it had, however, an addition to its rear, which, no doubt, added to its capacity; but in front it seemed designed only for a very small family. It was situated at the foot of a high hill, a spur of the moun- tain; a brook ran by its side, and crossed the road under a small stone bridge; fruit trees of various kinds covered the ground in front and at its sides, and a small garden was in the rear, extending, by a grass plat, down to the brook of water ; the location was picturesque, and the place had a home look., The young man was at work doing something to a stone wall in the rear of the house ; they knew him by his sailor's dress, but he did not immediately notice them. "Had we better get out?" said Mrs. Sterling ; " they are all so busy!" page: 268-269[View Page 268-269] 268 TTKE, AND UNLIKE. "Perhaps you had ; although, under the circumstances, we had better not prolong our call." - "Ay, ay! you are as good as your word, I see; and right glad I am to see you." Thompson had seen them, and hastened thus to bid them welcome. The grasp of his hand almost made James wince. ("The ladies were hesitating whether to get out ; you are very busy." "Get out! by all means; I am used, you know, to being busy, or to keeping other people busy. Madam, allow me to assist, you. I see, Miss, you have learned to jump from a wagon; it is an art, as well as to lay out on a yard-arm; follow me, ladies. We are in a muss, as you see, outside; we. have not commenced within doors yet." ' You are doing a good work," said Mrs. Sterling. "And I try to be thankful that I call do it, madam; I shall feel happier, when taking my watch at night, to think that my good mother is snug and tight at home." As they entered the house, an elderly lady came from the rear to meet them. She was plainly dressed, but all was tidy; her cap was very white, and the strings which hung loose were of plain white ribbon, and her bosom handkerchief a lawn; her shoes and stockings, too, for both could be seen, were of a quality superior to those commonly worn by persons in her station, especially in the morning. 'Had Mrs. Sterling not known that their visit could not have been anticipated, she would at once have supposed the lady had dressed herself expecting them. "Mother, this is Mrs. Sterling, and this is Mr. Beaufort, and this young lady is Mr. Beaufort's sister; you have heard me speak of them, and of this lady, too." "Indeed I have! and glad I am to welcome you all; walk in, madam, our room is small. Yes, I have heard your name my dear young man, many, many times, since my dear boy has come home ; I think he won't forget you very soon, and I am sure I shan't." "You must have been rejoiced to see your son after so long an absence?" "You may well say that, madam ; it was new life to me, I can assure you. And to see such a change!" "Now, mother, I hope you will not think it necessary to give my friends Pardon me, madam, for taking such a liberty with your name; lMr. Beaufort has allowed me to call him such." , T,TRE AND UNLIKE. 269 't! can assure you I am very willing to be classed in your mind with him.5" "Then, as I was saying, I hope mother will not care to trouble you with my short comings and wild doings in former days." "Oh, no! I wasn't going to do that; boys will be boys; but I can say you was always a kind son. But you must know, and this lady and gentleman must know, if they knew you, then, that a wonderful change has been made. My own eyes and ears wouldn't, couldn't hardly believe what they saw and heard." "You have great cause, madam, for gratitude." "Ah, indeed I have! only to think how it might have been! and how. feered I was that it would be so. 'You see, ma'm, the sea is a very risky business, and a very reckless- there is one of our neighbor's sons went away, just as onr William did-and he came home about a month since a poor swearing, good for nothing creature. His father is well to do, but the young man is the plague of his life, although he tries to comfort himself by saying 'He is only sowing his wild oats ;' but I'm afeered what will be the harvest. He is drunk a good part of the time ; he never brought home a cent of money, and is a nuisance to the whole neighborhood; they will all be glad to see him off again." - "I hope your son may do him good." "I am afraid he has become fbnd of liquor, madam," inter- posed young Thompson; "it was my good- luck, when I broke my bottle, not to have acquired a taste for it ; when a person does, it is a miracle, indeed, if he can be reformed. But, mother, there is one thing poor Joe has not got, and that is a mother--a mother to think of when he was away, and to weep over him when he went away, and to pray for a blessing on him-all that was in my favor. But come, Beau- fort, I want to show you what I am doing. Will you excuse us a few moments, ladies?" "Certainly! we must not stay too long, you know, James." "Oh, you will not go before dinner; or a lunch,- at least!" Mrs. Sterling and James looked at each other a moment, and did not reply. "I think, mother, if we give our friends a lunch, it may suit them better than our dinner; dinners with us, you know, are pretty rough affairs, with so many hands." ell, my son, it is all plain enough for that matter; but page: 270-271[View Page 270-271] 270 To KT A"D UNLIKE. I know that ladies and gentlemen ain't so particular about their fare as some other folks." "I assure you, madam, at any rate, we are not." "Oh, madam! I don't know how it is, but I feel as if the Lord had done so much for me in bringing my boy home and training his mind as he has, and making such a change in him altogether, and in his circumstances, too, that I don't feel like making apologies for anything. I can be happy now on a dry crust of bread, and I seem to feel that others can be, too; especially if they have a heart to rejoice with me. Only to think what he is a doing, too-spending his hard earned money to make the old place comfortable, and so respectable as he has made himself! Why, the first gen- tlemen in the place, with,the Squire himself, come to see him, and ask him to their houses ; the whole-place makes much of him." "And well they may, madam; he has made a man of him- self, and will no doubt soon be master of a vessel." "He has had the offer of a small vessel already, madam, but his captain advises him to stay in the employ he is now in; he says he will soon, no doubt, be promoted to one of the packet ships as captain, and then his fortune is sure if life be spared." The table for the lunch was spread in the room where they were then seated, and the little sister of William Thompson came in to arrange it, and was kindly received by Mrs. Ster- ling and Julia. She had a pleasant countenance, much resem- bling her brother. She was ablout twelve years of age, and was also tidily dressed, especially about the feet. The white cloth was spread and plates arranged, and they too, seemed to be new, and of a style not in keeping with other things in the room. No doubt the son and brother was arranging things by degrees, so as to put a different aspect on their home, and its inmates too. And now the eatables began to appear; pies and cake, and cheese, and sweetmeats, and heaps of white bread and rolls of sweet-looking butter, and a plate of cold ham, and radishes, and onions, and cucum- bers, enough for many more than the plates seemed designed for ; then came a pitcher of milk, and a teaboard with cups and saucers- and a smoking teapot. It was all got together, too, in apparently a few minutes, and the young men coming in, they were soon seated around the table and enjoying its luxuries with a hearty relish. Young Thompson was very cheerful, and entertained the J "KE AND UNLIKE. 271 company with a recital of some of his adventures, so common to all sea-faring men. To Miss Julia these were of deep interest. She loved to hear of adventures, and especially of such as were encountered on the ocean or in a foreign land, and she often found herself gazing at the handsome young sailor, and was once or twice confounded by noticing that his address was directed to her. It was, however, a delightful meal, so they said, and thev certainly confirmed their words by doing justice to it; if not all, at least a great part of the variety. "And you will certainly make me a call," said James, ' before I return to the city." "I certainly will; how long do you remain at home?" "About ten days longer." "Oh, brother! I thought you was to spend three weeks with us?" "Two or three," I said, sister. "Well, I will try to be there in a few days; so soon as this roof is finished." This was said while on their way to the wagon. "And you will being your sister with you." Julia was i not in general forward to speak, but no doubt she felt under obligations for the pleasant manner in which the young girl had waited upon them, and wished to make a return. "Thank you, Miss Beaufort, it would give me pleasure to -do so. If she can be spared, I will." "Well, James," said Mrs. Sterling, after they had started on their way, " you have reason to feel that your life has not been in vain, young as you are yet. ' He that converteth a sinner from the error of his way shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins."' "Oh, Mrs. Sterling, I have had little to do with that, I assure you, I cannot feel that any credit belongs to me. "God works through means, and if it pleases Him to make use of us in any such way, even although our agency may have been merely incidental, we ought to be grateful for it. You doubtless thought not of any such result, you merely acted at the time from a sense of duty. Your cause of gra- titude is that you was enabled to do that; you might, as many do, have shrunk from it." "What an interesting young man he is! Do you not think so, Mrs. Sterling?" said Julia. "He has so much to tell that he has seen; it makes one think more of a man to page: 272-273[View Page 272-273] 22 , - LIKE AND UITNLTKE. know that he has been in dangers and escaped them, and by strong resolution surmounted difficulties." "Quite a speech for you, little Sis. Your faculties seem to have wakened up to-day; your ride and your lunch have had a wonderful effect upon you," ;"I can well understand how your sister feels. It does inspire sensations of interest to hear one tell of hair-breadth escapes, where nothing but determination and a fearless heart can bring safety. Othello in that way won the heart of Des- j!l demona, black though he was! Not that I mean to infer anything from this case." A hearty laugh all round was the only reply, and Julia, at least, was quite ready to change the subject. It was just three o'clock when they reached their home, all in fine spirits. "Well," said Mary, as she was taking Mrs. Sterling's things to put them away, " you have been honored with a call this morning." "Me! indeed! From whom?" Miss Mary at once presented two cards to the lady, say- ing: "They called here and inquired for you, and when they found you were not at home, left their cards." "'Mrs. Gaines! Miss M. Gaines!" Mrs. Sterling looked somewhat confused, and then said, "I presume they are visitors here?" "Oh, no," said Mrs. Beaufort, " the compliment is intended for you, Mrs. Sterling. Etiquette, you know, would require that I and my family should first have called upon them ; but as we have never done so, of course we have no claim upon them. Mary invited them in, but they declined, saying they should be happy to see you at ' Beech Wood."' "Is that the name of your old place? They live there, I believe?" "It has been known by that name a long while." "This is very strange, Mrs. Beaufort. I have no acquaint. ance with Mrs. Gaines, having never met her." "Oh, well, she doubtless knows all about you, and you being as well as herself a city lady, she feels, I suppose, that she is bound to show you some attention, and thinking you might wish to see their fine establishment-as I understand she takes quite a pride in showing it-has opened the way for you. There is nothing out of the way about it; her not coming in when she called, of course we take no exception to, as we have no claim whatever for a visit from her." "KE AND UNLIKE. 273 "But, Mrs. Beaufort, while I wish to be civil and do nothing to injure my own feelings, I really should prefer not an acquaintance of this nature. If I call upon her, I must invite her to call upon me in New York, and our habits of life are so different, there could be nothing agreeable in the acquaintance." "I suppose you have some of the same feelings which have prevented me from seeking her society. But in my case there may be more reason for allowing them to have influ- ence. We are in no condition whatever to visit in such a family, or to receive visits fi'om them. They affect a great deal, of style, and have a great deal of company which I should not wish my daughters to mingle with. And besides, Mrs. Sterling, I understand they have furnished the old house in the most gaudy manner, and it would pain me much to go there and see the change. In the city you can receive a call and return it, but- your intimacy need go no further." "That is true. Well, I put myself at your direction, Mrs. Beaufort; if you think it best for me to call, so be it. Mas- ter James, how do you feel? You must be my gallant, if I go." "Oh, he will be ready enough to go, Mrs. Sterling; if for nothing else, to see Miss Marianne. She is a dashing young lady-beautiful too. A pretty girl will take him anywhere, Mrs. Sterling." "Now, Sister Mary, Mrs. Sterling knows me better than that. I will certainly go to oblige her." "Oh, well, see if you are not gallanting Miss Marianne on horseback before two days are past. Poor Emma! I am afraid she will be put quite aside! How could you be so reserved, and distant, and unsocial the other evening? Think how" "Now, Sis, if you keep on, I shall be obliged, in self- defence, to retaliate, and ask how you enjoyed the 'law plea' you was listening to so attentively that same even- ing?" Miss Mary, however, put a stop to any further words on his part, by taking him round the neck and putting her hand Upon his mouth, and bestowing several kisses in its vicinity. Mr. Gaines had risen from a low station in society by his own industry and management; but the business in which he made the nucleus of his property was one not generally considered a very respectable one. He had kept a low drink- ing saloon in the upper part- of Broadway. How much he 12* page: 274-275[View Page 274-275] made in this way of course was not known; lint he had been enabled in a few years to purchase the groulnd onl which his establishment rested. The building was valueless, but the location, in a few years, came into demand, and during a speculative mania, he was enabled to sell out at a gre:at advance, and found himself in all possessed of twenty ton.- sand dollars." With a laudable ambition to gain a higher standing now that he had something to start on, he went into the grocery line near Washington Market, and there too he was success- fil. His first venture in land speculation had given him an impulse in that way too, and he occasionally made purchases at forced sales by auction, which did more than all his other business to add to his -means. So that by the time Mr. Gaines was forty years of age he was the possessor of a fair hundred-thousand. He then sold out his stand near the mar- ket, and was for a year or two a gentleman of leisure, but still speculating successfully in real estate. But Mr. Gaines was uneasy; he wanted active, regular employment; he had been always used to it, and resolved to embark with some estab- lished firm. He had become acquainted with the firm of Roff & Co., and as Mr. Roff was doing a large business and wanted some capital, a partnership was formed, and the house took the name of Roff, Gaines & Co. Mr. Roff was by no means proud of his partner, but the money he had advanced was a great thing, and the credit the house gained by connection with one then known to be rich, and thought to be richer than he was, was another great thing. In process of time no one thought to ask what had been his beginning, nor to be very critical as to his manners or the style of his address, or such little et ceteras. He lived in a fine house, his wife gave expensive parties, and fashionable people without hesitation attended them. His crowning act, however, was the purchase of a country seat on the North River, with a name attached to it and dis- tinguished for a long time as the residence of very respect- able people-a " high family," it was said. When a man in the city gets so far as this, his antecedents, if not the most respectable, are generally forgotten. To have a country seat indicates taste for the country, and of course a degree of refinement; it also has a sound of ease and enjoyment. It is also a very pleasant thing to be intimate with a man who owns one-a very convenient thing in hot summer months, to be in the way of an invitation to spend a few weeks there. And Mr. Gaines found no lack of friends to accept his invi- tations and to drink his wine and to praise his place and to call him a lucky fellow. The more respectable inhabitants of the place, however, had not been very attentive. There were some old families in the vicinity who welre tenacious of some old-fashioned ideas of respectability, and having heard rumors respecting its present occupants, many- of them had made no advances toward any intimacy. .The daughter had indeed, in some way, become acquainted with :l few of the young people, for young folks are not generally imbued with old folks' pleju- dices. She was, as Miss AMary Beaufort had said, " a dash- ing, beautiful young lady.'"She dressed in the first style of fashion, wore splendid jewelly, and a great deal of it. She had golden hair-true golden hair-it hung in ringlets on her neck and shoulders. She had fine blue eyes, a fair skin ruddy cheeks, a full form, and remarkably pretty feet, which she was never careful to keep from observation. She was of a lively turn, fiee in her manners, of a kind disposition, a good dancer, and fond of the exercise. Her education had been attended to, but she. was no book-worm. She had rather visit and ride on horseback, and dance and be happy in general, than sit down to pour over a book. And consi- dering that Miss Miannlle was the daughter of a rich father, it cannot be wondered at that young gentlemen were fond of her company, or that young ladies should have put out of mind any stories they might have heard concerning the early career of her father, or any peculiarities in either parent. The reception which Mrs. Sterling met, was certainly as cordial as she could have desired; and Master James was almost taken by storm on the part of Miss Marianne. She was as free with him as though they had been acquainted for years. "I took the liberty of calling on you, Mrs. Sterling, hear- ing you was at Mrs. Beaufort's," said Mrs. Gaines; " to be sure, we were- not personally acquainted in the city, but I had heard of your family, you know, through Mrs. Roff; and knowing that you knew my husband was a partner of Mr. Roff, I felt that we were after all acquainted; and in the country, you know, we don't stand so upon ceremony. To be sure, Mrs. Beaufort hasn't called, and I might have felt it wasn't just the thing to call there, even upon you; but then I know, no doubt, how she feels. This estate, you page: 276-277[View Page 276-277] 276 , LIKF AND UNLIKE. know, once belonged to them, and no doubt she feels bad to see it in the hands of other people; and then, may be, she thinks we feel above her. But it ain't so-we should be very glad to cultivate acquaintanceship." Mrs. Sterling made the best reply she could, but she would have been very miuch troubled to carry on her part in the conversation had not Miss Marianne come to her relief. "Mrs. Sterling, Mr. Beaufort here is so very gallant that he cannot engage to accompany me on horseback this after- noon without first knowing if you do not need his services." Mrs. Sterlinog no doubt understood why James had thus made reference to her, but she could not honestly say she had any special need of his services, and she answered ac- cordingly. ' No excuse, now," the lively girl replied, looking at James, and laughing quite heartily; "and you shall have our best gentleman's saddle-horse. Emma Langdon says vou are a splendid horseman, and I do want to ride so with some one that can sit on a horse without looking as if he was going to execution. Last week I had to walk my horse half the way, as my poor gallant, a gentleman fi'om the city, got the heart-beat. I suppose he was afraid of falling off." "Perhaps his heart was set to beating from some other "Well done! well, I never thought of that. But I guess not; I pity him if it did." "Pity, you know, is almost as dangerous as some other violent feeling." The young lady was extremely amused with this, and laughed until the room rang again. She replied, however, quite promptly: Did your heart never beat while riding by the side of Miss Emma?" "Not unpleasantly." "Oh, by no means; not unpleasantly-that is very good. I must tell Emma." "Iease, Miss Gaines, spare me. Miss Emma might think it strange that I had even mentioned about riding with her at all," , Ohshe has told me herself, you see. I find you have been a great favorite with the girls." : I am happy to have their good opinion, certainly." Mrs. Sterling now rose to depart. '"And you will be here by two o'clock. I shall be ready then, for I want to have a good long ride." "What a lovely spot it is!" said Mrs. Sterling, when she and James had started. "I had no idea of the splendid view which can be had in every direction. But they do not seem to appreciate it." "Did not Mrs. Gaines speak of it?" "Not a word. She spoke of some beautiful ornaments they had just been getting, and showed them to me, and asked me 'how I liked that style of chandeliers?' and whether ' I thought the French or the German glass was the best?' and remarked 'that they had purchased French glass,' and ' what I thought of French furniture?' Of course, I could say little about it, only that it had a good appear- ance." ' Well, James, have you been smitten?" said Mary, as he entered his home. "Not particularly so." "Have you engaged to take a ride with Miss Marianne?" "I have." "When?" "This afternoon." "Oh, you naughty! when Emma Langdon is coming here to take tea!" "I could not help it, sister. I tried to get off by appeal- ing to Mrs. Sterling; but she did not help me." "I wanted to do so, James; but the question put to me was one that I could answer only one way." "Oh, well; he is a gone case, I see. Miss Marianne is very pretty, is she not, Bub?" "' I suppose some would think so; but she is, to my mind, not half so pretty as some I know." "Who? who? Now tell." "Now, Sis, stop. I shall not answer you another ques- tion." "Ah, now I know. Well, you have my consent." "Sister Mary, you know not what you are talking about; you are enough to set one crazy." "Not crazy, Bub-only to confuse you a little, that is all; you look so very interesting when you are a little con- fused." The ride that afternoon was after all a very pleasant affair. A lady never appears to better advantage than when mounted on a fine horse, especially if she be a good horse- page: 278-279[View Page 278-279] 278 LIKE AND UUNLIKE. woman. The well-fitted riding dress sets off the fine form to advantage--the jaunty hat, with its feathers waving among the dangling curls-and the life which her counte- nance assumes as the steed bears her along through the fresh air, are all calculated to give an extra charnm. And Miss Marianne did know how to sit on her horse, and to manage him, too. She was fearless, and seemed to be perfectly at home in the saddle, so that James was not in the least obliged to watch the motions of her horse or her person. As for himself, he was as much at ease as if sitting on his seat in the counting house. He had ..been accustomed to the saddle from his childhood. His horse, a spirited crea- ture, at first manifested a disposition to give trouble; he had, a few days before, very unceremoniously dismounted one of her gentleman attendants. But he soon found he had a master, and one- who expected obedience; so all trouble from that source was over, and Miss Marianne per- ceived that she had one by her side now who could not only keep by her side, but was ready for any pace she wished. Miss Marianne seemed at first very much in the lively, tri- fling vein, which she had manifested in the morning. The little tussle, however, which James had with his horse, and his ready command of him, appeared to have given her a different idea of the young gentleman. A woman, after all, is apt to yield some deference to a man who manifests spirit and ability even in small matters. "He could master a spi- rited horse, at any rate "--and almost immediately after he had mounted there was an evident change in her manner. And fast and fair they rode through woodpaths, and by lanes, and public highways-attracting the admiration of passing travellers, and those who gazed through open win- dows. Wild flowers, some of them, were in bloom, and Miss Marianne loved wild flowers. It was nothing for James to dismount and gather them for her, because it was no trouble for him to mount again. A beautiful spring bubbled by the side of the highway. "Oh, if I had a drink of that water, I am so thirsty! but we have nothing to drink out of." "I can manage that for you," said James, springing from his horse, and fastening him to the fence. "Miust I get off, too?" "It is not necessary; wait one moment." A large plaintain leaf was soon found, and gathering it "KE AND UNLIKE. 279 in both hands, he dipped the trembling cup beneath the "Now, please drop your rein; you will need both hands." M' ust I take it? oh, dear; it will spill!" ' Never fear; take hold close by my fingers-"It was a delicate operation, but Miss Marianne at last held the cup fairly alone, and her lips were able to quaff the delicious water. "Oh, how good! where did you ever learn to do that?" "You forget that I was brought up in the country." "I shall not forget it after this, nor shall I forget this diink; buit you should get a fresh leaf," seeing James about to help himself; , that leaf is crumbled and mussed up." "Oh, you must know I am fond of sweetened water." The young lady looked at him a moment as though not at once taking the idea. "Ay, aiy, I know-I see; you are like all gentlemen; you must say something that you think will flatter and please us." Indeed, I did not intend flattery; you can have no objections if we try to please." "No, if it is not attempted through flattery." James had again mounted, and was walking his horse; she seemned, just then, to prefer that gait. "Do not ladies, in genelal, like to have pleasant things said to them-such as manifest the high regard which gen- tlemen have for them?" "'I think they do not care much for it unless they have reason to believe what is said comes from the heart, and then it also is necessary that a certain opinion be entertained of the individual who says it. I had formed an opinion of you that you could not flatter." ;"I never do it designedly." "Never?" -' Never." - "Well, I do not exactly know what to think of you, but I feel greatly obliged for that drink, as well as for these fowers. I have given you a great deal of trouble this after- "I assure you it has been no trouble to me." "Not to, dismount so often?" "Not in the least; has it appeared so?" b"nOh, bv no means; you make nothing-of getting on or off; but I often-see things which I want very much, and dare not ask the gentleman to get it, for the reason that he might not page: 280-281[View Page 280-281] 280 LIKE AND UNLIKE. be able to mnount his saddle again without some one was by to hold his horse ; but, shall we go on a canter, or a gallop?" "Just which you please." "You are very accommodating. No wonder Miss Emma Langdon spoke so highly of your gallantry." The gallop was, indeed, a glorious one; the horses bounded with such freedom; their speed was so uniform and so much in unison; each rider felt perfectly at ease, and the air so balmy, with just enough of motion in it to invigorate and refresh them. James had to confess to himself he had been disappointed in his anticipations of the afternoon. He had allowed 'Miss Gaines to choose her path, and he saw that they were about to pass his own home, and, moreover, that his sisters and some other company were standing in the shade within their front yard. He could not do less than say: "( Shall we check our speed and stop at the gate? I see Miss Langdon is there." "Oh, if you say so, certainly." And in a moment more they drew up at the gate. Miss Mary and the rest could not do less than come out to them; of course, an introduction took place. "' Will you not dismount and come in?" said Mary. '"Oh, thank you, no; I have caused your brother so often to dismount, this afternoon, I dare not tax himn any further; he is so polite! Oh, we have had a lovely ride! Miss Em- ma, I can indorse your recommendation after this. I never had such a splendid horseman by my side." "I fear you are flattering now, Miss Gaines'." "No, indeed; that I never do; I leave that entirely to the gentlemen. I speak the simple truth." "I am glad my brother has not forgotten all he learned at home." "He has only forgotten old friends;" this was said, by Miss Emma, in so low a voice that James could not hear it. "What did she say, Mary?" ( Oh, nothing; one of our secrets." "May I never expect to see you at our house?" this was said by Miss Gaines to Mary. "Oh, thank you; we seldom go out so far, especially when my brother is away." "Oh, I wish you would come. Good afternoon." And again the horses are put on a gallop and are soon out of sight. "They go finely," said Mary to Miss Emma. a "KE AND UNLIKEi 281 "Beautifully! she rides well; and I don't see but she behaves well. I never saw her, though, before quite so demure; she is generally very boisterous." James had formed the same idea of her at his first inter- view; he thought she was a little too forward for a lady; but, either he had become accustomed to her manner, or she had changed it very much, for he saw few things exceptional, and there was a frankness with her that rather pleased him. ' I often pass your house, and admire it very much." "You are not surely in earnest now!" "Indeed, I am; it looks so neat, and comfortable, and home-like." "It is a very plain affair." "A fine house and fine things do not make happiness!" "That is very true; it depends more upon ourselves than upon our external advantages." "I often tell pa, I know we have a fine place, and all that; but what are we the better for it? We have a great many visitors in summer, to be sure, but any one can see what they come for. For my part, I should prefer a quiet, snug country place, to visit among plain people, and enjoy- life as our young girls seem to in the country." "But, surely, I thought you were fond of gaiety, both in the country and city." "Were you told so?" "Pardon me; I judge so from what I have seen of you." "I have no doubt many think so. I have been gay, I know, in a certain way. I have a good deal of company, and go out a great deal, and. all that; but that don't make me happy, you know." "Are you fond of reading?" "I never tried it; in fact, we have not much to read but the papers. Pa never reads anything else; he never takes a book in his hand, and ma, she don't care about it, and I have been to school-so we have no books. -I sometimes wish I had some one to tell me what to read. You have read a great deal." "You surely do not know that from observation?"7 "I have heard so; and, besides, I can tell whether one has got anything in his head besides nonsense, silly and trifling as I am!" You are calling yourself hard names now. I would not hear others call you so without contradicting them." She looked at him with an expression which he had not -- page: 282-283[View Page 282-283] 282 T T4 AND UNLI mE, supposed her countenance could assume, and he almost thought he espied a gathering mist upon her eye. "You are very kind! I thank you, and I am glad, indeed, if you do not think so; .but I know many do, or they would not make themselves so silly and trifing when with me; they no doubt think it pleases me." "If I were you, as you have so much time at command, I should get some friend to point out a course of reading for me." "I do not know who to go to, without you would do it. I will promise to read any books you recommend." "Thank you; I would be a poor hand to direct a lady in such a matter; but you know Dr. Malthie." "Thle physician of the place? oh, yes; he has been to our house merely to make a professional call; his wife and daughl- ter have not called. It seems very strlange, very few, indeed, of what I think the most respectable people here, have called on us. I don't know why; perhaps thley think because there are so many comning to see us from thile city, we don't want any other society." "Tile doctor is a fine man, and quite a scholar; the first chance you get, ask him; he will be pleased, and there is no one I know more able to give you the information you wish; and, if my advice is' worth anything, you will do it. The mind cannot be happy without knowledge." "Aud now you will go in and take tea-do." "You saw that we had company at home. I believe you 1must excuse me." "Oh, I wish you could ; I want to talk about many things. When do you retulrn to the city?" ' In a few days, now." "Allow me to thank you very much for all your kind attention this afternoon; and will you not feel fi'ee enough, if you wish, while you are here, to ride without my company, to come for this horse? I promise you he shall be at your service, and with pleasure, too." James thanked her much for the offer; jumped into his own wagon, which had been in waiting for him, and bowing to the lady, drove to his home. CHAPTER XVI. YOUNG Thompson did not forget his promise to make James a call. He was dressed in a different style from any they had yet seen him in; that is, he wore a frock-coat, and to an unpractised eye could not have been distinguished from any other well-dressed young man; very little of the sailor rig was manifest. His sister accompanied him, and the welcome they received was, no doubt, highly gratifying. The young man, however, seemed very thoughtful, and his manner was so different from what James had noticed when he made his short visit to him, that after they had dined, while they were walking out together, James asked him "'whether anything had happened, or whether there was anything that troubled him? "Nothing that really troubles me, Beaufort; but I have some anxiety about my sister; and since I have been here this morning, an idea has occurred to me that has occupied my thoughts, and perhaps I have appeared absent minded. The fact is, I wish, if possible, to give my sister a chance to rise in the world, and take a little higher position than we have held. I don't feel that it is wrol'g for us to raise our- selves out of our present condition to a better one--do you?" '"By no means; it is our duty, as it seems to me, to make outrselves as respectable as we possibly can; that-is, to take advantage of our opportunities to gain all the knowledge we can; to cultivate our talents; to improve our manners, and to gain property by fair and lawful means. All these give us influence, and add to our ability to do good and to enjoy life." "That is just my view. Now for myself: I see the way is fairly opened; and there is nothing to hinder me, if I im- prove my mind and attend faithfully to my business, from taking a fair start in life." "As captain of a fine ship, as you no doubt will be in a few years, at most, you will have great advantages; you will min- gle with people of the first standing, and if you improve page: 284-285[View Page 284-285] 284 LIKE AND UNLIKE. yourself, will find as much attention paid to you as you can desire." "What I want is to command the respect of my fellow- men. I know in our country it can be done by any man who has resolution enough to pursue the right course. I find from my own experience so far, that all our best folks are ready to receive a man alongside of themselves if he only does the right thing, even if at his start he was quite low down. But my sister will not have the same chance as myself. My mother is a dear, good mother; I love her, and respect her; but, as you must know, she has been trained in a very plain way, -and my sister, living at home with her, will be very apt to have no great advantages. She can go to school, and does go; but a girl, to be anything, needs more than schooling; she needs to be trained in other respects. Manners in a girl cannot be learned at school, at least not in our country- schools; they are all careless together. You should have seen how both my mother and sister looked when I got home. I sent them money to get things, but they didn't either of them know what to get. So I made a complete overhauling-from head to foot I had them rigged out. I don't mean in fine things, but you know if a woman isn't snugly rigged she don't feel as she ought. Dress is of more consequence, as I view Aithan some people think for. A girl barefooted, or with coarse stockings and clumped shoes, can- not feel like the same person as when she is neat and trim and light under foot. At any rate, she don't look like the same person." "That is true, no doubt; but I never thought of it before." "You would not be very likely to; your mother and sis-- ters have, no doubt, been so trained that no matter how plain their garments, they would be of that kind and so arranged, they would show the lady at once; but I can tell you there is a difference even in such matters, that education makes; I know it, and have seen it and felt it, too. And there are a great many other things which a girl needs, which can only be got by family training. Look at your mother and sisters, now, and look at mine. Perhaps all have equally kind hearts -and honest and pure hearts-and may be equally as glad to do a favor; but how much more good in the world can one family do than- the other? That you can answer your- self." "I know family education is a great thing; it-has been a great thing for me--I freely acknowledge it." "KE AND UNLIKE. 285 "I saw it in you before we had talked together five min- utes. You was not dressed so much better than I was, for the different business we were pursuing but I could see you was up in the world and I was down low; I felt it, too, although you did not seem to." "I did not." "No ; I know you did not. You treated me with as much deference as if I had been the first gentleman in the land; and it was that which gave you such influence over me. If you had put on airs, as those are apt to do who are not true gentlemen, you and I would probably have parted soon, and nothing you said or did, have had any good effect upon me, but rather the contrary. Now, what I liave been thinking of, is, that it would be a great thing for my little sister, if I could get her boarded in some family of the right sort. I am willing to pay well for her board, where she can be under the right influence, where-she can learn to dress and to de- port herself with propriety, and learn to do things in a becoming way, and have a chance to get out of the peculiar ways she has been accustomed to. It would be the very best thing I could do for her." "You would wish her mind to be improved, als6?" "Certainly--by all means. But you see, all the learning she might ever get, if she stays at home, would never raise her one peg higher than she now is." "I understand vou. Do you know of any place where such advantages could be enjoyed?" "I don't--yes; I know where they might be had-all that I could ask for; but I dare hardly mention to you where. But if you will not think it bold in me, I will tell you just what I have been thinking of." "You need not fear, Thompson, telling me anything you wish; I am much interested for you in every way." "I believe you are. Well, then, since I came here this morning, and have seen how things are, I have been thinking if my sister could, only for one year, have the advantages she would have in your family, I believe it would be the making of her. I will pay liberally for her board, and would wish her to take hold and do her part in all that is done, and just be under the training of your mother and sisters. ,",Now, par- don me for the suggestion." "You need no apology, I assure you. I cannot say how my mother and sisters may feel about it; but I tell you at page: 286-287[View Page 286-287] 286 ' TWTE AND UNLIKE. once, that it strikes me favorably, and I will do what I can to accomplish your wish." t' Beaufort, you are a good fellow-God bless you.'9 James saw that his friend was much affected, and again assured him that he would do his best to bring it about, and that he had little doubt but it could be done. "And perhaps you would like my elder sister to take charge of her studies?" "I should--by all means." "My sister, I think, would be quite competent, and there is no school near at hand." "And will you mention the matter to them-to-day, if you will?" "I will, by all means." "That one thing accomplished, I can go off to sea again with a light heart; for I have a cousin about the age of my sister, who will be glad to take her place at our house, and assist my-mother." James found his mother and sisters quite ready to enter into his views, and they all parted well pleased -with the arrangement. Thompson and his sister had but just gone, and the little family were all together in the front room, when the sound of a horse's feet, tearing violently along the road, was heard; the ladies ran to the windows, while James sprang to the door, and was at the front gate in an instant. The horse he knew; for it was the one he had ridden in company with Miss Gaines. The animal was running at his utmost speed; a young man, handsomely dressed, was on his back, one foot out of the stirrup, which was flying against the horse's legs, and the rider was clinging with both hands to the mane, while the bridle hung loose. James was almost excited to laughter by his ridiculous appearance, but the imminent danger the gentleman was in, restrained his emotions of levity, and he ran from the gate in the direction the horse was going. He knew that just beyond their house the road took a sudden turn, and he felt well assured there would be mischief done there, as the young man had no control of himself, and a sud- den change in any direction would throw him firom his seat. His mother, and those who were with her, soon followed- him. It happened as James supposed it would. The moment the "KE AND UNLIKE. 987 horse sheered to turn, his rider lwas hurled from his back with violence, and thrown close to the stone fence--whether he fell against it, James could not see-but when he came up to him, he was lying on his back very near the fence, and groaning as if in much pain. '"Are you much hurt, sir?" "I am a dead man.'" "Oh, I hope not. Did you strike the wall?" "I don't know what I struck; am I on it now?" "No, you are on the ground. Where do you feel most hurt? Can you not get up?" "I am hurt all over-I believe every bone in my body is broke. Oh, give me something, or I shall die!" \ Mary, who had run back for the camphor bottle, handed it to James. She was crying, as well as all those around her. Just then, a lady came up on a full gallop; it was Miss Marianne. She was very pale and was greatly alarmed. She sprang from her horse, put the bridle over the saddle, and suffering him to take care of himself, came and kneeled by the side of the young man. "Alfred, are you much hurt?" "I hope he is not," said James, who was bathing his face with the camphor. "There is no bone broken, that I can perceive. I think he is only faint." "Alfred, are you much hurt?" the young lady again said. He opened his eyes, and looking up, saw who was by him; the sight seemed to stir his feelings, for the color evidently came to his face. Without making a reply, lie attempted to raise himself, and with James' help he sat up, and looked round upon the group about him. Miss Mary had to smile amid her tears, she could not help it. His hat was crushed in at the crown-it had in all probability saved his head- but the peculiar look it gave him, with the air of surprise and ipparent-mortification expressed by his countenance, was more ;han she could stand; and whether she shook from laughter )r sorrow, no one, of course, could tell. The young man, lowever, supposed it was the latter. "Miss," he said, " don't be alarmed! I hope there is iothing broke, after all. Perhaps I can stand; let me try" --looking at James, who at once took hold to assist him in ising. "Softly-softly, sir, I say." ",Softly it is," said James; " there, sir, you are on your egs once again, at any rate." c; Yes-and by the pokus! if they ever catch me off my legs page: 288-289[View Page 288-289] 288' LIKE AND UNLIKE. on such a beast, then But you are crying, too, are you?" turning, to Miss Marianne, who was also shedding tears. Mrs. Sterling came up to her, as she stepped back a little from the circle. "Is he your brother?" "I No, ma'm; I have no brother-he is my cousin. But you see what condition he is in?" Mrs. Sterling had indeed noticed that his looks and his language appeared strange; but his unsteady motion after he had regained his feet, assured her that there was some- thing more the matter with him than the effect of the fall. "I am heartily sorry for you and for him too." The kind tones of the lady's voice, together with the ex- citement she experienced at first seeing him, and when she feared he might have been fatally injured, now overcame her, and she had to give full vent to her feelings. Mrs. Beau- fort came up to her, and said: "Miss Gaines, perhaps you' had better go in and rest your- self; I have no doubt my son can do all that is necessary for your firiend."- As soon as the young lady could speak, she replied: "Oh, you are very kind; but I think t had better go home." Mary now came up, and taking her hand: "Do, come, go in and rest yourself a moment. James will see to your friend." The pleasant voice of the young girl,.whom she had long wished to know, caused a fresh outhurst of feeling. But she took Mary's arm, and they walked toward the house. James then. ran up to them: "Miss Gaines, give yourself no uneasiness; your friend is not much hurt. I will take him home in my wagon." James had a horse and wagon on hand, which he had hired for the benefit of Mrs. Sterling. "Oh, no, indeed, not you. He is not fit to sit beside you; I would not have you so disgraced." "Oh, my dear," said Mrs. Beaufort, ("Jamles will not mind that; he is pretty well known here." "But it is too bad to put him along side of such a " And again the tears burst forth. James did not wait, but hastened to procure the necessary conveyance, in the meantime securing Miss Gaines' horse. On his return, the young man was seated and talking to him- "KE AND UNLIKE. 289 self in no very becoming language, and saying all the hard things he could think of about the horse. "The horse was not to blame. You should have held the reins, and kept your foot in the stirrup." "Held the reins! kept my foot in the stirrup! I should like to see you, or any other man, hold the reins, or the stir- rup, either. The ugly, kicking, rearing, plunging, and play- ing the very --. Sir, you don't know ; I do. I'll give 'em my mind; the horse is a very - . Sir, he run like lightnin'. I hope he's broke his neck, that's what I do." "I suspect you made too free use of your spurs." "Spurs! where are they? Well, I suppose he did take 'em, some; for how could a man tell where his heels were, with that shaking him, first up and then down?" "V Shen I saw you, you had your heel tight against his flank--enough to madden any horse." "I don't know where I had it. I held on anyhow I could. But where's Marianne?" "She will be along presently. If you will get in now, I will drive you home." "No, sir! no, sir! You won't catch me behind any of your horses. He'll be kicking, or shying, or playing some trick or other. I've done with your country horses; they have got the --- in 'erm." "I canl assure you, sir, he is perfectly gentle." "He looks like it, don't he? his head and tail cocked up. Where's Marianne, I say? She is a fine girl-a lovely piece of flesh. I am in love with her, do you know it? and she is with me. Didn't you see how bad she felt? cried, by jingos! No, no; it's no go without her." Miss Gaines was led to a sofa when they entered the house, and reclining upon it, Mary took a seat beside her. Mrs. Beaufort, in the meanwhile, had procured a glass of wine, as the young lady was evidently, by her fright and the excite- ment of her feelings, quite exhausted. Coming up, she of- fered it to her. "You are very good, Mrs. Beaufort, but please excuse me, I will be better soon; and I have some time since- resolved not to touch a drop of any stimulus, if I can do without. Oh, if you saw what I do, you would feel so too. There is now young Somerindyke, that lately married Miss Susan Roff, at our house; he and my cousin both left the wedding party, and came on shore last night, and such a condition as he was in during the evening is horrible to think of!" 13 page: 290-291[View Page 290-291] 290 LIKE AND UNLIKE. Mrs. Sterling raised her hands, exclaiming: - And did he leave his wife?" "Oh, yes, m a'm. He could not persuade her to come with him, and so he and Alfred left the party and came to our house. I do wish pa would never ask such people to come to see us. But they know they can make free there, and so they come." "C Poor: Susan! I fear she has tasted the bitter cup al- ready!" "I have no doubt of that, ma'm. Mamma said last night that she sincerely pitied her." James now came in, and going up to Miss Gaines: "I fear I shall not be able to persuade your friend to go home. He insists upon seeing you." The young lady immediately arose. "It mortifies me beyond what I can express, to think that you should be so troubled with a friend of mine. I assure you, though, I had no idea of his condition when we started. I did not wish to ride, for I feared he could not manage that horse; the horse always knows when he has one on his back who is afraid of him-otherwise he is perfectly safe. And my cousin would wear spurs, although H begged him not. I suppose, not knowing what he did, he has touched the horse with them, and then got frightened himself. I never expected to see him alive again-and I don't know but it would have been as well for him-certainly it would for others. Mrs. Beaufort, I shall always think of your kind- ness, and that of you all." Mary gave her a kiss at parting, and asked: "Shall I go out with you?" "Oh, no, dear; by no means. Oh, I wish I was going to stay here forever!"This she said in a very low tone of voice. James assisted her to mount, and when seated, she turned toward him a look of deep earnestness. "You see a little now- one of the reasons why I said to you the other day, I wished we lived in a plain, small house, like yours. You have a home-a real home; my home is not much better than a tavern." "I am most truly distressed that all this should have oc- curred when you were along; you are not by any means to blame, though." "I thank you for saying so. I shall give up riding, except when I go alone." -F,s,,!,-- --- - ril-::A=A HCu-C-IrCI\i*Ff c et TFKEF AND UNLIKE. 291 "Well, my darling cousin, here we are-all ashore, you see. But heads up--never say die; not yet." "Will you get in, sir, now-? Miss Gaines is ready to go home." "Yes, yes. But that other lady that cried so when she thought I was hurt or killed. I must see her. Zounds! I didn't know the girls were so tender hearted." '";Alfred, please get in now. Do, if you wish to please me." ' "To please you? Yes, I'd get on another horse. .No I wouldn't, by the pokus, never. But I'd do anything else." "Please me now, then, and let this gentleman help you in." "Help me in! I can help myself. Let that gentleman get in himself, if he can, and hold the reins, and take care of his horse. That's- the thing-the right thing. Don't you say so? Say, Marianne, you know I love you. And what made you cry so? You felt bad to see me laying pros- trate, like a dead herring--just where that beast pitched me. That horse, Marianne! oh, that horse had like to have made an eternal separation." "Do, please, Alfred, get in now. Mr. Beaufort is in and waiting for you." "Mr. Beaufort, glad to make your acquaintance, sir; but here I am "-making an effort to get in-" not yet though! Hold that beast tight, sir. What is his head doing up in the air so? Hold tight, I say." "He will stand, sir-no fear." '"No fear--no fear;" trying to get in. James this time seized his arm, and by his help got the gentleman on his seat. "If you had been dancing for a dozen miles on the back of a flying devil, and then tossed ten rods through the air, not knowing where you was to land, you'd think, sir; you'd think very differently about horses' heads, and their heels, too.." But they were now well on their way, and James paid no heed to the gentleman's remarks. Miss Gaines rode by his side, near enough for them to converse together, and James, anxious to divert her from the unpleasantness of her situa- tion, kept up discourse on topics of an agreeable nature. He hoped, also, to prevent her from hearing the remarks of her cousin, who was talking quite -wildly, and at times using pro- fane language. page: 292-293[View Page 292-293] 292 ' TKFR AND UNLIKE. Presently they saw a horse and gig approaching, Twith a man in it, driving rapidly. "There comes my father. He is, no doubt, alarmed. The horse has reached home; and there comes our wagon and our coachman. Oh dear!" They soon met the approaching teams; 'Mr. Gaines and James knew each other; that is, James had frequently been to his office on business for Mr. Sterling. "Hilloa, Sis! what's the trouble now?" Marianne had started her horse in advance to meet her father, while James slacked his pace. "Alfred is in a terrible state, papa!" "Is he hurt? Has he been thrown?" "He is not hurt, but he is in a shameful condition."' (c Aye, aye, it's the champagne. The young fool; he guz- zles it down like water." "Hilloa, uncle! what are you at there? All right, you see." Mr. Gaines then came up, and, taking James' hand: "4I heard you was up here. This is a bad business, Alfred. I told you to be careful. Champagne is heady stuff." 1"You take care of your horse; that do you do. He's like to have been the everlasting death of me." "Well, I'm glad you're not hurt. Can you get out?" "I think, Mr. Gaines," said James, " you had better let me drive beside your carriage, so that he can step immediately into it." "Yes. Well, that will be the best way." James was in the act of doing so when the young man, with an oath, gave a spring from the wagon. It had just started. He probably touched the wheel as he jumped; but he came to his feet, and then fell prostrate to the earth. Mortified at this new exhibition, the young lady again burst into tears, and turned her horse's head another way. "Why did you jump, you fool you?" The young -man was now trying to get up, and his uncle was assisting him. "Hands off, sir! You all act as if-as if- you thought I was drunk. Hands off, I say! Marianne, don't cry; I ain't hurt--all right." Mr. Gaines beckoned to his coachman ; and with his assist- ance, after some struggles on the part of his nephew, who was trying to get to Marianne-c" he wanted," he said, " to comi- fort her"-they finally got him into the carriage; when Mr. Gaines sprang in, and thanking James for his kind "KE AND UNLIKE. 293 offices, turned his horse's head toward home, and drove offE." James then went up to Miss Gaines. ' Do not allow yourself to be so disturbed by what you cannot help. The fault is not yours by any means." "But it is a terrible disgrace to all our family. No decent people, after this, will ever care to visit us. And then to think that you should have been so annoyed and mortified with his foolish talk." On my account I beg of you to have no concern what- ever. My only distress has been for your sake, and to see so young a man in such a condition." "But after this I shall always be associated in your mind with this scene." "And if so, it will not be to your disadvantage, I assure you. You have shown feelings which I did not before give you credit for. Please do not be distressed any further." She was again weeping, but now the cause was of -a different nature: James had thrown a great deal of feeling into his attempt at sympathy; she was not used to it. '4 I thank you very much. I thank you for all your kind, gentlemanly conduct toward me. I have never been treated so before; but I see, you have those about you Oh, if I had such a friend as your sister, what would I not give!" "Perhaps you will be friends!" "Oh, no, never! She would never come to my house now; we have been too much disgraced; and I am sure I should be ashamed to show my face at yours." "Believe me, Miss Gaines, you need not feel so. My mother may not be willing to let my sister visit where she might possibly meet with" "I know what you are going to say. I can't blame her. I only wish we were poor, and had to live in a plain way, and then we would not be troubled with such company; but one thing I mean to do, if such people do come; I will keep out of their way. When do you go to New York?" "In two days." "Then I shall not see you again." "Not very likely." "May I not hope you will call upon me when I get to New York?" "I should be happy to do so; but I have little time, when there, to make calls, and only in the evening, and I suppose then you generally have company." page: 294-295[View Page 294-295] 294 LTKET AND UNLIKE. ", That is true; but if you call, I promise you that you shall not be annoyed by it. I want to talk with you so much about the subject we were upon the other day. That ride I shall never forget." "It was indeed a pleasant one to me, and I am glad if your remembrance of it is agreeable." "You treated me as if I was not a poor, silly, trifling girl. I know I have appeared so. I have laughed and trifled a great deal, because I did not know what else to do, but my heart was heavy all the time." "You will call, then, and see my sister?" "' Oh, I should dearly like to; but you know your mother and sisters are well acquainted with the rules of social inter- course. How can I go there if they do not call upon us? They will think me very impertinent." "I can assure you they will not; but I should like you to know my sister, you may do one another good." "Oh, now I fear you do not mean just what you say. What good can I do to anybody?" "I wish you would not feel so, Ybu want a friend in whom you feel confidence. I know you have a heart that can enjoy friendship. Mary is true, and she is warm-hearted. Now, do as I say-call on her;" and James put forth his hand to bid good-bye. "If you say so, . will." She gave her hand, and fixed a momentary look of sadness on -him. She could not speak, and they parted in silence. "I believe James is riAht," said Mrs. Beaufort, after he and Miss Gaines had left the house. "About what, mamma?" said Mary. "About that young lady. You know he would insist, the other day, that there was more in her than people gave her credit for." I think so too, mamma. Poor thing, I felt very sorry for her; she was dreadfully mortified. I think she manifests a great deal of right feeling." '"I think so too," said Mrs. Sterling. (James is a keen ob- server of ladies. He was certainly quite interested for her the other day." "I hope he is not interested in her," said Mary; " he has such a susceptible heart, and any one can see that she has taken a great fancy to him." Mrs. Sterling said nothing more, but she seemed unusu- ally thoughtful. "KE AND UNLIKE. 295 "I have no doubt," said Mrs. Beaufort, " if she could be removed from the circumstances which surround her, into a circle of the right kind, she might make a fine woman. She is very handsome, and her countenance, I think, expresses much kindliness of heart." "You did not hear, mamnma, what she said to me when we parted.' 4' What was it, my dear?" "Oh," said she, as she kissed .me, "I wish I was going to stay here!" "Did she? Poor girl! I suppose she is not very plea- santly situated; certainly, not, if she has to be exposed to such scenes as we witnessed this afternoon. So we see there is something besides money requisite for happiness after all. We thought they probably looked down upon us." "Oh, ma, if you had heard James tell how she talked you would think that she, at least, did not feel so. Very far from it." "I am glad to hear it, I am sure. Perhaps we have erred in our judgment of them; and yet we could not with any propriety have taken a different course. We certainly have evidence now that an intimacy would not be very agree- able." James looked unusually sober when he came in from put- ting up his horse, and Mary began to rally him. "Is your heart quite gone, Bub? you look so very sober!" "My heart remains, sister, just as it has been; but I feel much for Miss Gaines; and I want to make one request of you, dear Mary, if she calls upon you, to treat her in a kind, friendly manner." 6"And need you ask me to do that? Dear brother, you almost hurt my feelings!" It was his turn now to draw her to him, and give her a fond kiss. "You know I would never do that designedly, never, dear sister. But I have told Miss Gaines I know you would be glad to have her call upon you, although you might not be able to return her calls. She wants a friend, dear Mary--just such a friend as you could be to her." "4 And I will second your invitation, by treating her with the utmost cordiality; but"--and Mary could not help smiling ster "But what, sister?" page: 296-297[View Page 296-297] 296 . LIKE AND UNLIKE. "Are you very, very sure there is not a little piece of that susceptible heart of yours gone? Miss Gaines is very pretty, and "-- "And what, Mary? What are you thinking of?" "Oh, I can't help thinking, that a very pretty girl looks so charming when her face is sad and tears are bedewing,her bright eyes, and all that." "Sister, I tell you that you are greatly mistaken. I have seen many pretty girls before to-day." "And fallen in love with them, too. But I won't tire you, you look so very sober-only tears are such terrible things to captivate a young gentleman's heart." James was not captivated. And yet he was deeply inte- rested in her case. Shle had manifested so much confidence in him; had treated him with so little reserve, and appeared to lean upon him so unhesitatingly for advice and- counsel, that he must have been stern indeed not to have indulged peculiar and even tender feelings toward her. He certainly pitied her, and he was deeply in earnest to bring about a friendly relation between her and his family; but we must believe him, when he affirms so positively that he has no interest in the matter, but a desire for her good, and we certainly cannot blame him for that. He is, however, about to leave these scenes for the stir of business; the appointed time has come when he must return to the city. The visit had been one -of unalloyed pleasure to all parties. Strong friendships had been formed between M's. Sterling and his family, and she had gained some new views of him relatively, which confirmed and strengthened the interest she had before indulged. They both return more strongly attached than ever. Parting scenes are not agreeable--we pass this one over to the reader's imagination. James left his home, indeed, with a much lighter heart than when he first bade them adieu- but he sees not what is before him. This changing world is a poor reliance, so far as happiness is concerned; but youth has no experience to prevent a strong trust in its present favorable aspect. He will be wiser in this respect, when he again sees this spot, now so endeared to him, if he is not so happy. TTKR AND UNLIKE. 297 CHAPTER XVII. ALTHOUGH Mr. Bustle could not be persuaded by his good wife to have anything more to do with the crusade against their pastor, yet she had been by no means idle. "A little here and a little there," was Mrs. Bustle's motto, and in this way she kept the fire going. Those members of the Session, too, who were in the opposition, were not made of such pliable materials as Mr. Bustle. Some of them were imbit- tered against their minister. It may seem a hard expression to use in reference to persons who laid such claim to a dis- tinguished rank as Christians, as to be made elders in the Church, but no other word can so well describe the true state of their feelings. Others, members in'good standing, who, either influenced by those in authority or by their own impulses, were no less strenuous in doing and saying what- ever they supposed might have a tendency to make their pastor uncomfortable in his present situation. Strange itis, but no less true, that those who profess to be followers of Him who was meek and lowly, from whom love emanated in every act and word, and who made the very test of disciple- ship to be a fond and enduring attachmzent to each other, and to lirtn, should so far forget their obligations, their vows, and even the foundation of their hope, as to allow all that rancor and rude feeling which men of no such profession indulge, when engaged in political contests or in the common broils of life. A minister may, for some cause, not be in his right place; there may be good and sufficient reasons why a change should be made; but this can be accomplished without resort to low tricks or underhand efforts. The manliness of the Christian need not be cast away in an effort to make the change; he need not lay aside the character of a gentleman, because he conscientiously thinks the incumbent of the holy office an improper one to fill it. But let those who may read these lines, and have been active in such a scene, ask them- selves whether they can truly say, " their skirts are clean in this matter?" if they can, then are they rare exceptions to a general rule. Mr. Goodman had been too faithful in his stat'on to give 13- page: 298-299[View Page 298-299] i7O TTK-E AND UJNiLIKE. the least point to an argument for his dismissal on that score; he had not, indeed, been particular in visiting his people; his time was too much required in preparation for the pulpit to do that; but of this no complaint had been made, nor could any specific charge be brought against the doctrines which he preached-none, that would have been listened to by any judicatory in the land. Even the change which he had made in regard to Baptism, was now almost universal in the city -churches, and those who were strenuous on that point, could not be sure that a new minister might be obtained who would revert lto the old practice. The true reason for dissatisfac- tion, no doubt, was, that in his application of the precepts of the Gospel, he had too closely touched the consciences of some, who were trying to serve Mammon and God at the same time. They writhed under the plain teaching; they wished to enjoy their worldly propensities, and yet be com- forted with a hope that all would be well with them at the end. There were not many-such, but enough to give trouble. Two of his members, also, had been highly incensed by his -plain and faithful dealings with them on the subject of their public performances. Mr. Goodman had taken this liberty, for the reason that he was quite intimate with them, and con- sidered them personal friends; and as he felt that his duty, as the leader of his flock, demanded from him a care over it, and that whatever hindered the .progress of religion, or was obnoxious to common sense and propriety, belonged to him to rectify if possible. It was probably not a wise step, but he thought them to be Christians, and of course willing to be advised in a matter that concerned their ustfilness. This, however, gave mortal offence, and the gentlemen -became most virulent in their feelings, seemingly forgetful that a meek and quiet spirit, or a teachable spirit, were included in their creed or even petitioned for in their prayers. They utterly refused to take any part in these public exer- cises, -giving as a reason that' Mr. Goodman had said, " that they were not fit to lead in prayer." It had not been said, nor even intimated, and their peculiarities had been touched upon in the most delicate manner; but worldly feelings got the ascendancy, if they had not, indeed, always been ascend- ant, although cloaked to themselves and others, under an orderly life and a public profession. To hear them now vent forth their bitter feelings, one who reflected on what a Christian professes to be, would be led to the conclusion that i.-d iFf LB . --C , lJAKIi ANUD UlNJL/lAd. : their religion was a very fragile affair, answering no very good purpose to themselves or others. There was also, now, apparently a very zealous spirit awakened for the good of the Church. Members whose lives had given no evidence that they were at all anxious for the spiritual interests of the congregation, were suddenly aroused to a sense of " the great apathy existing on religious subjects." They had, indeed, done nothing themselves to throw it off and to kindle a warmer glow, but they were loud in denouncing their pastor. "He was a good man, but lacked ardor, energy, and a great many other things. He ought to be round among- his people. He ought to have more meetings. If he had not the strength to do this, he is not the man we want." And upon this last deficiency they finally rested their com- plaint; covering up all their dissatisfaction and virulence of feeling under the specious one of ill-health. "He was feeble; the labors necessary are arduous; we want a robust man; a man in full health; he had better go to a congregation were not so much labor is needed." His health, indeed, was not good; his strength had been severely taxed by his efforts in the. pulpit. He was slender and delicate in appearance; he had for some time been afflicted by a cold on his lungs; it had not prevented his preaching, but it was undermining his strength. He felt it, and was often sad at the prospect before him. He ought to have been allowed to rest; he ought to have had the sympa- thy of those for whom he had been laboring. He needed the rest; it might have resulted in established health. He needed the sympathy of his people. From some, indeed, he received it; but knowing, as they did, that a great opposi- tion would be made to any plan for allowing him, for a time, to cease from labor, they could afford no effectual aid. At length, a plan had been devised; it had been concocted by a few; it was not a generous one-not one that should ever have been thought of by a Christian-but it would, in all probability, be the means of driving him to ask for a dis- mission. It was nothing less than this: "C To call a meeting of the Session ostensibly to transact some business of the Church, and then, in his presence, for he must be there as moderator, to bring up the condition of the Church, and ask him, under such a state of things, "what had better be done?" There were some members of the Session, as we have seen, page: 300-301[View Page 300-301] 300 LIKE AND UiTLIKE. who possessed a very small share, indeed, of the " milk of human kindness," and to them it was a matter of no moment how deeply they cut into the heart of another. They had a cover, if they choose to avail themselves of its shelter : "It was for the good of the Church." They must speak their minds freely, because they were acting merely in an official character, acting for those who had committed the well- being of their Zion into their hands. "All personal con- siderations must be laid aside." Public notice had been given of the meeting of the Session, and the evening had arrived on which it was to be held. Mr. Bustle had filished his tea, and, as he sat down with the "Commercial Advertiser " in his hand, he asked the ser- vant to bring him his slippers. Mrs. Bustle looked at him with astonishment, for a moment. Mr. Bustle was aware -that her, eye was upon him, but he kepti'htently looking at the paper, holding it as a sort of screen between himself and his amiable spouse; it was not very polite to do so, but he had his reasons. "Mr. Bustle, you surely have -not forgotten that this evening is to be the meeting of the Session?" "This evening!" Mr. Bustle coughed considerably hard just then. "Yes, this evening; is not this Wednesday?" "Wednesday! ah, well, I believe it is--it is, I know, now; this is Wednesday; I am sorry," and Mr. Bustle coughed again and rubbed his chest. i "Why are you sorry? Are you not going to the meet- ing?" "Well, really, I don't feel like it. I don't feel a bit like going out to-night." "You are well, Mr. Bustle, are you not? - Why can't you go out?" "Oh, well, you know one may not be sick, and yet not feel like going out; it's damp and it's cloudy." '"Order the carriage, then." "Oh, no, no, no; that is not worth while; you have been round with the horses a good deal to-day; I should hate to have the poor beasts got up on my account." "I think you are unnecessarily considerate about the beasts, all at once, Mr. Bustle." "Oh, well, Peter, you know, would have to sit and wait- for me all the evening, and that would be very tedious; no- if I go, I will walk." "KE AND UNLIKE. 301 "I should think it was near the time for you to be going." "It won't take me long to getthere."' And Mr.,Bustle let his slippers stand by the side of his chair, and kept on reading the paper, or pretending to. In truth, Mr. Bustle's mind was in no state for reading profit- ably. He knew more than Mrs. Bustle thought he did, about the prospective doings of the Session. He had been secretly advised by one who was himself quite hostile to Mr. Goodman, and who looked upon Mr. Bustle as being of the same mind, Mr. Bustle having formerly committed himself in that way. His views, or, at least, his feelings, had changed materially, but not being possessed of much firmness of mind, he did not'like openly to declare his sentiments to those of his brethren of the Session with whom he had formerly sym- pathized, so he was made a confidant, and, perhaps, by his silence, had virtually committed himself to-act with them. He did not, in fact, wish to have anything to do with the matter. He was treated so kindly by Mr. Goodman, who felt under great obligations to him for what he had done, in company with Messrs. Russell and Sterling, to .relieve him from difficulty, and, moreover, his intimacy with those two gentlemen, who were warm friends of the pastor, all con- spired to exert a powerful influence in that direction; he did not wish to have any hand in the matter--not, if he could help it. Mrs. Bustle was aware of the change in her good husband, and it was a grief to her that so it had happened. She, how- ever, knew what was to be done on this particular evening, although she supposed he did not, but believing that if he were once there, face to face with those who had been his old friends, he would not dare but unite with them; she was, therefore, extremely chagrined to find that Mr. Bustle was so lukewarm about going out. It would do no good to urge him by letting out her battery upon him. She did so at times, but it was only to give relief to her own feelings. Mr. Bustle might suffer from the infliction, but it was sot the way, she well klew, to move him to action. She was in great earnest to-get him off, therefore, but had to be wary, and not urge too hard. 'She, therefore, waited with all the patience she could com- mand, and to let M1. Bustle see that it was a matter of indif- ference to her whether he went or not, took up her knitting and set her fingers at work. page: 302-303[View Page 302-303] 302 LIKE AND UNTTKF,. The slippers stood by the side of Mr. Bustle, and the paper was turned over and folded, and apparently was full of very interesting matter. It was certainly time for Mr. Bustle to go, if thus he had decided. Mrs. Bustle got up and looked at the clock. "What time is it by your watch, Mr. Bustle; can this clock be right?" "My watch is right; it is just seven o'clock." "Oh, I thought it was later; this clock is too fast. Your meeting was appointed at half-past, was it not?" "Thie Session, you mean! oh, yes; half-past seven-that is the hour." "How long does it take you, generally, to walk there?" "Oh, not long; toward half-an-hour, I should think." The door-bell now rang, and in a few moments, a gentle- man was ushered in. He was the very man, of all others, Mrs: Bustle was just then happy to see, for he was one of the Session who had become a violent -opposer of Mr. Goodman, and he was the very one, of all others, whom Mr. Bustle did, not wish to see, for he knew upon what errand he had come.: "Good evening, Brother Bustle; I thought, perhaps, you had not started, and we could -have a walk together. I want to talk over matters with'you a little. I feel," looking at Mrs. Bustle, ' that now is our time to bring matters to a crisis, and my good brother here is such a tender-hearted man-ha! ha! lha! is it not so, Mrs. Bustle?" "Mr. Bustle wants urging, sometimes; he is, as you say, a little too chicken-hearted for a man." "But, Mrs. Bustle, as I told Brother Bustle the other day, this is not a personal matter; we are actinig for the/Church, for the whole congregation, and personal considerations must be left out of view; that is my idea." "You are right, Mr. Biamn,.it is so; the good of the cause is what must be thought of; the whole Church must not suffer tor the sake of one man; if I was a man, he should have had my mind long ago."' "He will have mine to-night, madam, depend upon that. I am not mealy-mouthed when I have anything to say, and especially when acting in an official capacity. But I guess Brother Bustle will feel it his duty to say right out what he thinks. I know it is an unpleasant business to tell a man to his face that he is not wanted; but who is to do it, if we don't?" fi "KE AN1) UNLIKE. 303 'That is what I tell Mr. Bustle--r. Goodman is not wanted; and why not tell him so. I wish sometimes he could hear me talk to the widows, and set them down; but they deserve it, and I give them my mind fieely." "Do the widows give you trouble?" "Oh, a deal of trouble, sir. You see they are shiftless and wasteful, or they would never be widows-I mean poor widows. It would surprise you to know the quantity of tea -they drink! I believe they live on it, and because they can't have just as much money as they want to get it-why they are quite uffish! One of them had the impudence to tell me the other day that our charity was all a humbug; and she had rather live on bread and water than have us women coming there every few days and looking into what they eat and drink. But I set her down-I tell you I did." "Yes, Mrs. Bustle, that^ is the way-the poor are very ungrateful! I believe, Brother Bustles it is -time for us to be moving." M1r. Bustle laid aside his paper, and looking very much like a man going to be tried for some criminal offence, arose, and the two gentlemen left the room. Mr. Goodman was there when they reached the Session room. He appeared very unwell; his countenance was quite. sallow; his eyes, languid and glassy; and as he sat back in his chair, looked more fit to be in his bed than performing a public service. Mr. Bustle noticed how exhausted he seemed, and heaved a deep sigh. He thought of the ordeal the poor man would, no doubt, be called to pass through. The ostensible business for which they had been called to- gether was not a matter of much consequence, and was soon dispatched, much to the gratification of Mr. Goodman. But, as a matter of form, he asked: "Brethren, is there any other business before the Session this evening? If not, we will close our meeting."' Mr. Biam at once arose. He coughed and bowed a little before he commenced, and then began in rather a stern manner: "There is some business which it -seems to me, now that we are together, ought to be brought forward. Things are in a very unpleasant state among us--I mean in the Church, and throughout the congregation. I don't know whether our pastor is aware of it, but it ought to be known to him." Mr. Goodman colored somewhat, and then grew deadly pale. page: 304-305[View Page 304-305] 304: LIKE AND UNLIKE. "I am not aware, Brother Biam, of the fact you mention. I know that some months since there were a few individuals excited by the change made in regard to Baptism; but have supposed from the fact that the same rule has been adopted now in nearly-all our churches, they had become convinced of the propriety of the change among us and acquiesced therein." "You are sadly mistaken, sir, if you suppose any such thing; they are by no means convinced of the propriety of the change, nor are they any more ready to acquiesce in the measure than they ever were. But that is not all the diffi- culty; there is very general dissatisfaction." A member now quickly arose; it was Mr. Randolph. "If the gentleman will pardon my interruption, I beg leave to dissent from that statement--there is by no means general dissatisfaction." Mr. Biam had in generals ruddy complexion, but it now assumed a very rosy hue indeed. "I don't Ifke to be interrupted when I am speaking. I presume there will be opportunity for any gentleman to ex- press his views; but I say again that the dissatisfaction is very general; our most influential members are among the number, and things have come to a pass that requires some action on our part." "Brethren," said Mr. Goodman, "I had no idea that any such topic was to be introduced this evening; if I had, I should have requested some of my ministerial brethren to be your moderator. I will therefore close the Session in the usual way, and if you wish to remain and talk over together the affairs of the Church in an informal manner, perhaps you had better do so." "I hope," said another of the malcontents, rising from his seat, " that our moderator- will not break up our Session. It seems highly proper that our pastor should know the state of feeling both in the Session and in the Church. We have talked over matters long enough; it is time the pastor him- self should know that his ministry among us is doing no good." Mr. Biam now hunched Mr. Bustle, " it was time for him to say something." Mr. Bustle had no idea, when he entered the room, of opening his lips, he had resolved not to do so; but his heart was now stirred up. He felt that to insist upon Mr. Goodman's remaining there was cruelty; he was not phy- sically able so to do. Mr. Bustle arose-he was not a ready TrTE AND UNLIKE. 305 speaker, as the reader knows--he had thoughts, and .could occasionally let them off quite shrewdly in reply to Mrs. Bustle, but to speak when a number were listening to what he said, was a sore trial to him. However, he did now stand up-a moment he used his handkerchief upon his foretop, and then spake: "It seems to me, brethren, this is not right-it is not the right way to do this business." Mr. Bustle paused and smoothed his hair again, while every eye was fixed upon him, some in hope that he would say the right thing, and some curious to hear what he would say. Mr. Bustle went on : "I say, let our minister close the meeting and go home; he is in no wise well, and the talk here is not likely, as I see, to make him any better." "Brother Bustle," said Mr. Bram, "pardon me for inter- rupting you, but now you are up, had you not better say what you -know about the state of things, and how you feel yourself? We want each member to express his feelings; we want to know how we stand, and we want our minister to know." Mr. Goodman, on seeing Mr. Bustle rise, had resumed his seat; he did so out of respect to him personally. "As to expressing my feelings, it is not perhaps of much consequence as to that matter. But if I must say what I think, I will. I think, brother, we are driving things up too fast. Our minister -is not well, you can all see that; he ought to be to home and in bed. That is how I feel about that." "But about the Church, Brother Bustle?" interposed Mr. Biam; " what about the state of things?" "About the state of things! I cannot say, brethren, about that; some, I know, talk one way and some another-- some say this and some say that;, but wlihat I say is this: if folks would pray more and talk less, we should all be better off. That is my mind, brethren; that is all I have to say." The members of the Session hostile to Mr. Goodman, and who supposed Mr. Bustle on their side, looked at him, some with surprise, and some with marked indignation. He did not look at them, but was very busy with his handkerchief; it had been a great effort for him, not only to speak, but -to say what he did. Mr. Stokes now arose and was evidently under great ex- citement; -but before he began, a friend of the pastor arose too. r ' page: 306-307[View Page 306-307] 306 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "I have the floor, sir," said Mr. Stokes. "I suppose you have, Brother Stokes; but we are not now in a political meeting. We are brethren, members of the Session." "I know that, sir, and as such I claim the right to speak." "I yield it, brother." "It is my right; I ask no favors. I want to say now to the pastor's face" "Brethren," said Mr. Goodman, "1 I must withdraw. If you will allow me to close our meeting in the usual way, by prayer, I will do so; but if not, I nmust withdraw." The gentleman sat down, muttering to himself as he did so. Mr. Goodman, with a faltering voice, closed the meet- ing, and took his departure. His walk home was indeed sad as well as solitary. His heart drooped under the prospect before him. He had done his best among the people of his charge; he had expended, what strength he had in their ser- vice; he must now, with failing health, without means of support, without ability to commence with a new society, should he be called to one-resign his situation and cast him- self and all dependent on him upon the care of Providence. There was no other alternative. He could not preach to a people where in the very eldership of his church were those who felt, as he could clearly perceive, so violently opposed. He had not a disposition, even if he had the physical strength, to meet even a small opposition of such a character. Alas! that those who had thus sent a dagger to his heart had no more Christian sympathy. They were wealthy- Want never stared them in the face, with its gaunt and shi- vering visage. They " thanked the Lord daily, no doubt, for the abundance that crowned their life." But how did the Master regard their offering? What was there in their treatment of his servant that gave them a claim to be recog- nized by Him? This messenger firom the Saviour had withered beneath his labors among them. Was it like their Master thus to cast him off? Would they have done so by even a hired servant in their family? Had they no pity for one whose sensibilities were refined and delicate; whose calling had lifted him out of the common walks and labors of life? Did they think of the wife who loved' him and would bitterly feel every insult he received, every pang that pierced his breast; of the little ones that looked to him for their dailv bread? Could they thus, Christians by profession, send "KE ALND UNLIKE. 307 one whom they but a few years since courted and caressed and pledged themselves to sustain, and support, and comfort, upon the broad field of life, to seek as he might a place where he could lay his head? And are not such scenes witnessed in the Church of Christ now? Are there no Biams and Stokes's among our elders or among the leaders-in our churches? And can such men pray and claim their places at the table of our Lord? and go- about with smooth faces and a callous heart? Alas, they can, they do! Mr. Bustle returned to his home that night more moved in spirit than he was wont to be. He had been taunted with imbecility and even deception. He had said a little by way of defence, but not much ; he had rather run away from con- tention than bear his part in the fiay. From Mrs. Bustle, though, he could not always do that--at least, he could not always run far. "Well, my dear"-Mrs. Bustle felt quite affectionate- '" you have had a long session." "Yes, we have; much too long!" "Well, what have you done?" "t We have done enough-too much, I fear." "I wouldn't, Mr. Bustle, be always talking about fear-- you fear this and you fear that; it is not best, when we do our duty, to be so troubled about what will happen. I hope you spoke out plain, and let them know your mind." "I did that, wife, I can assure you." "Well, I am glad, and I know you will feel all the better for it." "I think I shall-I know I shall--I feel better now." 1' That is what I always say. Some I know think I am too plain spoken; but what is in, I say, had better come out, and then folks can know what is what." "Sometimes that will do; but in the general way the world won't thank you for it, you will make more enemies than friends." ' That is true, Mr. Bustle; but in a good cause we -need not mind that. Our Master, you know, said, ' Rejoice when men hate you and persecute you."' 5' You have not said the whole of it now, wife-you have left out the best part of it, ' for righteousness' sake.'" "And is it not for righteousness' sake you have spoken as you did to-night?" ' I hope it was. There wasn't much righteousness on the * page: 308-309[View Page 308-309] 308 LIKE AND UNLIKE. other side, any how. Oh, dear! I am tired out, wife, and sleepy." "You will take a little something, dear husband, before you go; hadn't you -better?" "No, no; I've had all I want for one day." Mr. Bustle was very anxious to put a stop to further in- quiries; he had answered all Mrs. Bustle's questions conscien- tiously, and he was well satisfied for the present. He might get into deep water and be put to trouble if the conversation was continued. He left, her in quite a pleasant state of mind. But the good man was not to get off so easy. Mrs. Bustle went off in high spirits the next morning to call on her friend Mrs. Biam, and to Mrs. Bustle's surprise, she was very coldly received. "Well," said Mrs. Biam, "Mr. Bustle, it seems, made a pretty fool of Mr. Biam last evening. Mr. Biam took all the trouble to go and call on him, and talk over with him all the way to the meeting, about what he wanted Mr. Bustle to say, and it was all agreed between them; but when they came into the meeting, what does your husband do, but turn right round and support Mr. Goodman, and throw cold water on all Mr. Biam said. Some people are not to be depended on, I see." "Why, Mrs. Biam, there must be some great mistake. Mr. Bustle told me with his own mouth that he had spoke his own mind out clear and free." "I suppose he did; but Mr. Bustle, everybody knows, hasn't much mind of his own, any way; he is pretty much led by somebody else." "I don't know, Mrs. Biam, who you mean by somebody; that somebody is not me, that I can tell you." "Well, people say so, Mrs. Bustle; and I do not think it is a very Christian way for you to go round and appear so zealous against Mr. Goodman, and then when other people come out and take a stand boldly, and are not afraid to let the world know what they think, that Mr. Bustle should just at the very time, when his help was needed, and when a word of his mouth would have settled the matter, turn round and speak the other way." x - "And am I to blame for that?" "H should feel, if my husband was to do so and make me ridiculous, as But there is no use in talking of the mat- ter, Mrs. Bustle, things are all in a muss now." "Did they not decide upon anything last night?" "KE AND UNLIKE. 309 "Decide! no. They talked and talked, and Mr. Goodman. backed, by your husband, just went off and broke up the meeting, and left them all there with their fingers in their mnouths. No, there was nothing done, and I guess there won't be, and what is most provoking of all, is to think that your husband should have gone anA set things all in a stir at the first, and then backed out and left others to bear the blame. But that is the way with some people; but it is well to find out who you are dealing with." Mrs. Bustle was in an unpleasant situation; she could not deny but there was truth in what the lady said, and yet she felt that she herself was not to blame. "It surely was not fair that she should bear the burden of her husband's delin- quencies. Mr. Bustle was not altogether ruled by her, although she did her best to bring him into proper subjec- tion." She was heartily chagrined at her reception, and -wished "she had not been in such haste to hear good news, for certainly its was with such an expectation that she set out that morning. All she could do now was to take her depar- ture as gracefully as possible.' Mrs. Biam was not a lady that she wished to bandy words with; she stood much higher in the social circle than Mrs. BRustle, and had moreover a sharper tongue than herself. Mrs. Bustle, therefore, eased off as well as she could, and made her visit a much shorter one than she had designed. Mr. Bustle did not get home that day until dinner time, and th'en he was accompanied by a friend whom he had invited to dine with them, and the friend stayed until quite late in the afternoon, very much- to the annoyance of the good woman. She wanted very much the privilege of unbur- dening her full heart to her husband alone. It was five o'clock before the gentleman took his- leave, but Mrs. Bustle lost no time after that; the fire had been burn- ing so long, that it burst forth with uncontrollable fury- the moment a vent was allowed. "Well, Mr. Bustle "-Mr. Bustle had just come into the room after bidding his friend good-bye--" you have done it at last." "What now! What have I done?" "Why, you have disgraced yourself and you have made a fool of me /" ' Mr. Bustle looked rather wild. He made no reply until lhe had got comfortably seated, and then looking'full at Mrs. Bustle: page: 310-311[View Page 310-311] 310 TFr AND UNLIKE. "Peggy, calm yourself; you are excited." "Excited! Mr. Bustle, you are enough to provoke a saint. Who wouldn't be excited? Here am I ready to burst with the trouble at my heart, and you a looking as unconcerned as a sleeping baby! Oh, Mr. Bustle, you uwill be the death of me yet!" And Mrs. Bustle sat down and covered her face; what she did Mr. Bustle could not tell, but she shook violently and rocked herself very fast-she made no noise. Mr. Bustle had some experience of a peculiar kind; he knew a little how to manage, so he kept quiet. Mrs. Bustle, however, did not think this was any way to do things; her mind would never get at peace that way- never. So at length she stopped shaking, dropped her hands and the hankerchief too, and looked once more at the placid face of Mr. Bustle. "Do you want to drive away my senses, Mr. Bustle?" "Peggy, I must say you act strangely! You allow your- self to be disturbed too much by trifles." "Trifles! it ain't trifles. It ain't a trifle to have to sit and hear myself abused as I have been this blessed day." "Who has abused you?" "Who? Mrs. Biam abused me. And to think, Mr. Bus- tle, that you should have deceived me as you did." "Deceived you! I deceived you!" "Yes, Mr. Bustle, I must say it; it's dreadful to think of, and you an elder in the Church, too! Never, never would I have thought it was in you to do such a thing; no, never!" "' Peggy, you are much tpo excited; you had better wait a while and get your spirits calmed; it is very unbecoming for you to give way so. I shall certainly go and leave you to yourself." "( Mt. Bustle, you must not do that. It is no way to treat your wife, the moment I have anything to say, to jump up and go off; it is too bad that I can't have one human being , to whom I can talk, or tell my troubles-not one." "4 Well, then, tell what you have got to tell, and don't be forever getting at it. Tell how I have deceived you, and don't be aggravating a man's temper. 'I can't stand every- thing no more than other people." "Didn't you tell me last night that you had spoke your mind out, firee and full?" ' Yes, I did tell you so; and so I did." "And was it your mind to take the part of Goodman, and TLIKE AND UNLIKE. 3" turn-right round against your friends, who had been looking to you to help them. Was that your mind?" "It was my mind, Peggy, when I see men who ought to have known better a going to say things to their minister's face on purpose to try him-a sick, feeble man! and hoping all the time by doing so to worry him, and make him feel uneasy and ask for a dismission. It was my mind then to say it was not right, and I said it." "You said it! and what else did you say?" "I don't remember all I said; maybe, I said, 'if people would pray more and talk less, it would be better all round ;' like as not I said that, for I thought just so, and I think just so now." "Pray more and talk less! maybe you think I am one of the talkers; yes, I think like as not you feel just so. Oh, dear me! I do wish, Mr. Bustle, you would say it right out and be done with it." "I don't want to say anything, good or bad. You take up things so, and get yourself into such a turmoil, that it makes my head confused; it is a wonder sometimes that I can tell where I am, or what I say." "And now, I suppose, we are to be saddled with that man, for the Session did nothing after all-so Mrs. Biam said, and she says it was all your doings." Mr. Bustle made no reply, and although Mrs. Bustle sat patiently waiting and looking at him, he merely twirled his thumbs together, and sat looking toward the window. "Wlat do you think will be done, Mr. Bustle?" "I can't say, my dear, what will be done." "Are they going to sit still and wait until he pleases to go? If they do, he will never go-depend upon that." "Very likely." "Oh, I wish I was a man!" "What would you do?" "You would soon see what I would do. I would go to him right off, and tell him to his face that he was not wanted. I would shame him into resigning-see if I wouldn't!" "Peggy, Peggy! you feel wrong. You may be sorry yet for what you say. You do not feel right toward your minis- ter. What has he done to injure you that you should be so stirred up?5 "It is you, Mr. Bustle, that stirs me up so. If you would do your duty like a man I should never be so stirred up, 4o . page: 312-313[View Page 312-313] 312' TTR. AND UNLIKE. as you call it. He has done enough. He won't baptize the children-that's one thing." ' But that need not trouble you. You know we are not likely to be -obliged to ask him." Mr. Bustle' probably did not think what he said--very likely his mind was confused, for he had touched upon a very sore point in the heart of Mrs. Bustle. He saw the moment he looked at her that a storm was coming, for her face was of a deep scarlet, her eyes flashed wildly, and her lips trem- bled. He most heartily wished he had held his tongue. A ring at the door bell, however, relieved him for the mo- ment-a step in the hall prevented Mrs. Bustle from making a reply. She had to bear the dreadful insult as well as she could, and smooth her face to a becoming mildness. The servant entered and handed a note to Mr. Bustle. It was from their physician. Mrs. Bustle looked at her hus- band as he read it, and perceived him to grow deadly pale. "Anybody dead?" "I will read it to you. ' MY DEAR SIR: (' I write to you from the sick-room of our pastor. He wishes to see you at once. He was taken suddenly this morning with bleeding at the lungs, and I fear cannot recover. Please come soon. "' Yours, with much respect, ' JAMES DECAMP.' " Mr. Bustle laid the letter on his lap, and fixed his eye on his wife. She was looking down, the color had gone, a sad expression had taken the place of the angry scowl. He was about to say something, something that would have been very cutting-but his better judgment told him it could do no good now-it might do harm. He saw clearly that his wife had been touched by a hand stronger than his-the tear was ready to fall from her eyelids. "My dear, let us both rejoice now that I did not last eve- ning join in doing violence to the tender feelings of our min- ister.- I could not now go and look upon him on his dying bed, with a clear conscience." Mrs. Bustle covered her face, but this time it was Ito hide the tears of bitter penitence. "Peggy, I do not wish to say one word to give you trou- ble, you know that; and I ask your pardon if ever I have done so. But let us learn from this .that we are all poor, weak, frail creatures. Let us have patience with one another, "KE AND UNLIKE. 313 and with other people. Let us try to act as we' shall wish we had done when we come to stand by the dying-bed of any we have dealings with, or lay there ourselves." Mrs. Bustle kept the handkerchief to her face, and start- ing from her seat, hastened from the room. Mr. Bustle quietly walked into the entry, took his hat and cane, and went on his way to the house of mourning. It would have been thought a very hard saying for any to have charged the opponents of Mr. Goodman with his death-for that was the result of his illness; and yet there was no doubt in the minds of both physician. and near firiends that the terrible excitement under which he passed the night previous to his illness, caused the hemorrhage which proved fattal. But there was no such charge made by any. Each one for himself, as hle followed his young pastor to the tomb, and saw his worn-out frame laid away in "his chamber in the silent halls of death," had to reflect on what he himself had to do in the sad catastrophe-and what record had 'been made in heaven of the manner in which the message sent by this minister of God had been received and laid to heart. CHAPTER XVIII. JAMES BEAUFORT had gone through an ordeal not very favorable in general for one so young. His visit to his friends had indeed been under the most favorable circum- stances, a season of unalloyed pleasure. But the attention which had been paid to him, not only by his own family, but by all his acquaintance, was calculated to give a spring to some feelings which most youth possess, and from which James was not free. He had not indeed an inordinate show of self-complacency, but he was not exempt from that trou- blesome affection. Hitherto it had not been manifest either to himself or others. He had, it was true, been treated by Mr. and Mrs. Sterling with much consideration, but both those friends had so tempered their indulgence with a cer- tain reserve of manner, that James was prevented from thinking himself of too much consequence, and a constant " page: 314-315[View Page 314-315] 314 LIKE AND UNLIKE. endeavor was thus excited to do his best to please, and avoid forwardness or assumption. Mrs. Sterling had, during her visit to his friends, thrown off much of the restraint which she exercised over herself in reference to him, and had fallen in with the feelings of those about her. She was the guest of his mother, and he was her attendant upon all their little excursions of pleasure. She acted toward him, therefore, as one might who had no authority, and was rather indebted for attention and kindness. She had also learned more of his true standing in society, and that of his family, than she could otherwise so well have known; and this, no doubt, somewhat affected her feeling and her con- duct toward him. In fact, she had while there thrown off all reserve toft manner, and was mbre of the warm- friend than of the kind yet judicious mistress. James, however, mani- fested no chance in his conduct toward her-his feelings had not been affected- in that way. He was just as respect- ful as ever, and took no liberty he might not have taken when under her roof, and subject to her authority. Nor was it until their return home that the influence of his visit began to manifest itself. Matilda was the first to greet them as they entered the house; and James had no reason to think that he had by any means fallen in her estimation. She gave him as cordial a welcome as he could have wished. Almost the first thing which she said as soon as they had reached their parlor was: "Who do you think has come, mamma?" Mrs. Sterling thought a moment, and remembering that she had invited Mr. Blauvelt to spend some time with them during his vacation at Princeton, immediately replied: "Mr. Blauvelt! Has he come?" t' Yes; he has been here nearly a week." "Indeed! Has he? Well, how do you like him?" Oh, very much. He is very interesting. Papa is much pleased with him, and he says he never knew a young man who had acquired such a store of knowledge." I "I am glad to hear it. I thought I would ask him, as he has no friends in the city; and he is really deserving of at- tention for his noble effort in pushing his way into the ministry without aid-at least with a mere trifle." "That is what papa says. Papa admires him much on that account; he says he thinks he will make a minister of the right sort.' "KE AND UNLIKE. 315 "I hope he will, my dear-they are sadly needed." Mr. Blauvelt now entered the room. He was much im- proved in appearance and manners. He had been for nearly a year under the tutilage not only of ripe scholars, but also of accomplished gentlemen, and he showed at once that his privileges had not been lost upon him. James very soon departed for his place below, as he had not yet seen Mr. Sterling, who was out when they arrived. That gentleman had just come in, and was on his way to meet his much-loved wife, whom he had been told was up stairs. His reception of James was all that the latter could have asked, and for the time utterly drove from his mind some un- pleasant feelings which had been excited by his interview with Mr. Blauvelt, but more especially by the few remarks which had been made respecting him. The feeling was, however, revived rather painfully by hearing the step of Matilda in the hall, in company with that of a gentleman, and seeing her pass his window with Mr. Blauvelt by her side, apparently in very good spirits. He had never-felt just so before toward any individual as he did toward Mr. Blauvelt. He did not stop to analyze its cause, for he had work to do, and that which required strict attention. His books were behind, and must be brought up, and he wished to lose no time in accom- plishing it; so, sitting himself resolutely at the business in hand, he contrived to keep other things out of his mind most of the time. At supper, the same unpleasant sensations again affected him. Every attention paid to Mr. Blauvelt, especially by Matilda, and every mark of attention on his part to her, caused a flutter at his heart and fullness about the head. This would not have been of much consequence, if the affec- tion had ended in such demonstrations. However, he made his meal in as quick time as possible, and requesting Mrs. Sterling to excuse him, retired to his office and his books, and was not seen again until the bell rung for prayers. Thus matters continued for about a week. He was con- fined during that period pretty much to his books, and was only with the family during meals, and but a short time then. All, no doubt, noticed the change in his conduct, but Matilda was the first to speak of it. "Mamma," she said, " what can be the matter with James? Do you not notice how still he is?" page: 316-317[View Page 316-317] 316 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "Oh, I presume he is absorbed in his books; you know they have got behind since his absence." "But I should think there can be nothing so -perplexing about that, to'have such an effect upon him. He has changed very much since his return." "Perhaps he is a little homesick. I should not be at all surprised if he were; he hais such a lovely home, and has had so much attention from all who know him." "I have a good mind to rally him on the subject, espe- cially about Miss Marianne, and his tete-a-tetes with her." "Be careful how you do that; he may think you are a lit- tle jealous." "I, mamma!" and Matilda was very conscious of a sud- den rush of the blood to her own face. Her mamma, how- ever, did not notice it, for she was at the time intent upon her needle. The remark was made by Mrs. Sterling in a playful manner, and without a thought; but-it made a deep impression for the moment on the mind of Matilda. It caused for the first time her thoughts to turn back upon themselves. What were her reflections are of no consequence just now; doubtless quite satisfactory to herself, for in a short time she said: "I must go down and get James to make me two or three pens; for I believe he never means to give us any more of his company. He is so dreadfully formal, too, of late, saying so little, and calling me Miss Sterling, whenever he does speak, that I almost hate to go, too." "Oh, he addresses you, no doubt, in that way because of the presence of Mr. Blauvelt; he thinks it more respectful to you." "Perhaps that is the reason, and perhaps he does miss a little the pleasant scenes he has been enjoying lately. So I shall say nothing to trouble him on that score; but I wish-he may soon get over his bad feelings; and that makes me think, too, I have wanted these two days to get him to translate a passage in 'Telamachus' for me. I will take it down with me." And thus saying, the artless, whole-souled girl, singing a lively air, took her book from the table and left the room. James had completed his books, and there was no neces. sity this evening for absenting himself from the family circle ; but his feelings had attained a pitch of. intensity that would have made any social scene distasteful to him. He therefore seated himself in the office, with his books of study before him; but there were reasons why he could not apply himself "KE AND UNLIKE. 317 to anything that did not absolutely demand attention. So the books lay on the stand beside his lamp, and with his head reclining on his hand, he sat busy with his thoughts. They were by no means agreeable thoughts; they were very sel- fish, ugly thoughts; such as he once supposed, and that until very recently, he never could have indulged. He felt ag- grieved that a stranger should have come in, and so soon have displaced him in the interest and affection of this-family, and he heartily wished that young man had never come, or that he might soon take his departure-" he had no business there "--" he disliked his manners "-and thought him " a very designing person, who wished to gain the good will of his ]lost and hostess for selfish ends"- and he wondered Mr. and Mrs. Sterling did not see through him-" he could do it well enough, it was perlfectly obvious "-and then he thought Mrs. Sterling had altered strangely-"' she was cold, distant, quite formal in her treatment "--Mr. Sterling, indeed, had not treated him differently; but he wondered what it was that gentleman could see in Mr. Blauvelt that caused him to be so very social with him, and pay him such marked atten- tion. But the strangest of all, and that which excited the most unpleasant feelings, was, the conduct of Matilda! To himself she was quite reserved and formal--while with Mr. Blauvelt she was quite fiee-held even long conversations with him ; walked out with him; and was busy, as he had reason to believe, hemming pocket-handkerchiefs, and no doubt was at times assisting in making up other articles for his use. But '" why should he care!"- "what was she to him!"-" he could be as cold, and distant, and formal as she was!"-" that he could "---and after this " he should keep to himself"--" he should attend to his business, and let the family alone ; at any rate, he should let her see that he was by no means dependent upon her smile or frown." .Over and over such thoughts rioted in his breast, until he had worked himself into as uncomforta- ble a condition as can well be imagined. Finally, in a very dis- consolate state of mind, he took up his Bible, and being then engaged in reading the Book of Esther, his eye fell upon the passage describing the unhappy state- of mind into which Haman was thrown by the mere fact that a poor Jew, who sat at the king's gate, would not bow to him nor do him reverence. "What a simpleton!"James said to himself; "must Haman have been. . He had all else that his heart could wish--riches, honors, power. He was next to the king himself, and yet all these failed to give him any plea- page: 318-319[View Page 318-319] 318 LTIKE AND UNLIKE. sure so long as 'Mordecai, the Jew, sat at the king's gate.' And he could have no rest until not only Mordecai, but his whole nation, were rooted from the earth. What was that dreadful passion that required such a sacrifice in order to ap- pease its rage? It was pride-it was inordinate love of self. .How could it thus operate? How could a human being give way to such a hateful feeling? It must have been growing with his growth, and strengthening with his strength. He must long have indulged it-perhaps at first about small matters, or in a light degree. He hated Morde- cai. Well did the apostle say that he ' who hated his brother was a murderer!' How dangerous to allow the very beginning of such a passion in the human breast." Thus reasoning, his mind became more calm-more self-pos- sessed. He could now look into his own heart; and the first glance there filled him with alarm. "What had he been do- ing?" -"How had he been feeling?" "Was there nothing in the -emotions he had indulged akin to those of Haman?" He fairly shuddered at the thought. "Alas! what was he? Where was his gratitude? Had not God distinguished him by his favors? Had not his friends been but too kind? Was his eye evil because they were good, generous, bene- volent, hospitable?" He covered his-face, and in agony of spirit humbled him- self before God and begged for his pardon, and for grace to help. The storm had passed-he was wiser than before. But oh, how low in his own' estimation! How mean! How con- temptible in his own eyes! He was utterly ashamed and confounded. A gentle step is heard approaching, and then a tap at the door. At once he arose and opened it. ' Then you are not writing to-night?" "Oh, no; I have got through my writing." "And sitting here all alone in this hot room! Oh, I see you have your books. I am sorry to distrub you, but I want one or two favors. And as I despair of having an opportu- nity of seeing you long enough up stairs to make the demand, I have come down on purpose." "Please, Miss Sterling, state them; and I will, with the I greatest of pleasure, do your bidding-if I can." i Oh no! Not in your present, state of mind. Miss- Sterling idoes not need to ask favors of strangers. I beg your pardon for interrupting you. I will get some one else to assist me." "KE AND UNLIKE. 319 James colored deeply, and as Matilda looked at him, she saw his bright eye began to- moisten-he could scarcely arti- culate. "Please do not go. I shall be very unhappy if you do." "You are, I fear, very unhappy now, James. Can I know the cause?" It was asked in such a kind and feeling tone, and her coun- tenance expressedc so truly the emotions of her heart, that James could not command himself sufficiently to make a reply. "Please do tell me, James: or will you tell mamma? You know she thinks a great deal of your happiness." He handed a chair for her-still without speaking. She sat down and fixed her eye upon him. "Have any of us done anything to injure your feelings? If we have, believe me, it has been entirely unintentional." He shook his, head. "Nothing, not by any means; I would not have you think so for a moment. You have all been too kind. No, it is nothing of that sort. But I have a wicked heart--a very bad heart; if you knew its baseness, you would despise me." "It, has not led you to do anything as yet very wicked that we know of, at any rate." And she smiled as she said this, but it elicited no corresponding smile from him. "No; perhaps it has not. I ought to be thankful for that." "I suppose we have all bad hearts; only some of us may not scrutinize them so closely as you do. I fear you are not well." ' Oh, thank you, I am very well." "Upon honor, then, that is all your trouble? That bad heart-that very wicked heart." "It is now, I assure you." "And did that wicked heart prompt you to speak to me so formally just now?"Another pretty smile. "Please say nothing more about that. Only let me know in what way I can oblige you." "Well, then, in the first place, I am in want of some new pens-a couple will answer." "With the greatest pleasure." And at once a bunch of beautiful Holland quills was pro- iluced from his desk and laid on the stand, after selecting two of the best he could find. 6' Please make them not quite so sharp pointed as the last," page: 320-321[View Page 320-321] 32.0 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "I will try to "-and very workmanlike he proceeded with the operation. How long has this very wicked heart been troubling you -pretty much all the week, has it not?" James had to smile this time, but he made no reply. "Does it make one formal and reserved, and love to keep by one's self?" "Please say no more about it. I am over it now.?' "I am heartily glad. I hope it will never come back again." "I hope not. I think it never will." "There! I am afraid I have made you spoil that pen." "It was my carelessness. I can soon repair the mischief." "To think that I have had to ask other gentlemen to wait upon me when I wanted to go out of an evening. And I suppose if they had known French I should have felt com- pelled to ask foreign aid in that too." Oh, Miss Matilda, please have pity. Do forgive me." "I did that before I came in, or I should not have come. Do you think I would? and-my ' Telemachus ' with me." "I thank you with all my heart for coming. You cannot imagine how much pleasure it gives me to do anything for you." "I have thought it did, until this unfortunate week; but I will say nothing about it if it troubles you. Those pens look beautifully. I know they will be just the thing." "Please try them "-and he placed paper and ink before her. She wrote a line, and then said: "This pen is just what I want. I will try the other ;" and another line was written. "Equally good. May I have your paper folder?" The ivory knife was presented, and she proceeded to sepa- rate what she had written from the sheet. " May I see what you have written?" "I designed to keep these two lines for myself-as a sort of guard against evil spirits. But you may read them." "A bad heart is a dangerous thing for friendship." "True friendship must be founded on confidence." "Please let me have these." "What will you do with them?" "Keep them forever by me, as a guard and as a token." "KE AND UNLIKE. 321 "As a guard! that is, I suppose, against a bad heart. But how as a token?" "A token that will ever remind me of your kind forbear- ance with one who is unworthy of your friendship." "I have a good mind not to, for the last part of your sen- tence; but considering that you are in a state to write hard things against yourself to-night, I will not be too particular. Only remember, I protest against the expression." "I will try to disprove my own words.. May I see your ' Telemachus?'" "With all my heart. Here is the passage." "I stumbled at this myself for some time. But I believe I can render it correctly now." "Yes; I have no doubt that is it. I made something like that out of it. Yes, I know this must be right. Thank you -and for the pens, too." "I thank you for doing me the favor to ask me. I will make up the rest of this bunch for you." "Not to-night, I hope. Is not music thought to be a rem- edy for evil possessions?" 1 "I believe it is in some cases. Oh, I understand! Shall I come up and play?" "It would be very agreeable-quite a relief, I assure you; for I have thumbed the piano by myself, until I am tired of my own noise." There was plenty of music in the parlor that evening, and Mrs. Sterling even complimented James-a circumstance un- usual for her. Mr. Blauvelt was in, the latter part of the even- ing, and James made himself quite sociable. He found that there was much more in the young man than he had been will- ing to allow, and did not wonder that the family was so pleased with his company. James was not as happy as he had once been; but he felt much better than before his inter- view with Matilda. Mrs. Roff had been very much annoyed by the visit of Mrs. Sterling with the friends of James. She had her own reasons, no doubt; but that which she gave was " that it was paying too much attention to the young man, who was already as full of self-conceit as he could be." She had not spoken thus to Mrs. Sterling, for since the last outhreak of her feelings she had received the same kind, but plain, acd monitions from her brother; that had a tendency to make her cautious. She had also learned some things concerning the obligations on the part of her husband to Mr. Sterling, "* page: 322-323[View Page 322-323] 322 TCFP, AND UNLIKE. that served wonderfully to check her imperious manner to- ward either himself or his wife. But she was by no means pleased, and that, together with some family reasons, had pre- vented her from making a very early call. Mrs. Sterling had, however, called on her, but failed to see her-Mrs. Roff be- ing out assisting her elder daughter in making purchases of furniture. Another reason why Mrs. Roff had not called, was, no doubt, some reluctance at meeting Mr. Blauvelt--there might be some unpleasant reminiscences on his part-Mrs. Roff did not care to -bring-them up. Mr. Blauvelt, however, finally took his departure, and soon thereafter Mrs. Roff called. She appeared somewhat cast down, but was quite mild in her demeanor. "Well, Caroline, I am -so glad to see you; and you are looking much better." "I am better, thank you; indeed, I never felt better in my life. I have had a delightful time." "c- Indeed! Well, I didn't think you would enjoy it much. But I know you somehow can accommodate yourself to cir- cumstances. It must have been a great change for you." "It was a change, but quite an agreeable one. The coun- try is so beautiful; and then, such a lovely family! and their social circle so intelligent and refined." "Indeed! Well, I know-or, at least, I have heard- that the scenery up there is fine; but I supposed the society was rather tame, or not like what we are accustomed to in the city. Country people, in general, you know, are rather rough and uncouth--I never can get along with them; but no doubt the families from the city give a tone to things." "Far from it, sister; I was myself much disappointed in that respect. There are a few families from the city, who have fine houses, and live in considerable style-but they are not, in general, considered an acquisition. They are by no means so cultivated, either in mind or manners, as the old residents there ; at least, that was my experience with those who visit at Mrs. Beaufort's." "But I did not suppose she had much intercourse with our city folks." "Not much. She has not put herself in their way for several reasons." "Quite poor, I suppose." "Why, sister, no doubt their means are small-they must be; their house is small and plain, yet the rooms are of "KE AND UNLIKE. 323 comfortable size; the furniture, too, is plain--but you never think of all that, when there. There is such an air of true gentility-Mrs; Beaufort has such an easy, lady-like way with her, and her daughters, too-her mind also is so highly culti- vated, that really, to tell the truth, I felt quite ashamed of myself. I never was yet, I must say, in any evening circle in the city where I felt so much at a loss in bearing my part in conversation as some evenings there, when a number of their most intelligent visitors would be in. It has given me quite an impulse to improve myself." Mrs. Roff colored, and fanned herself, and- seemed quite uneasy. She evidently did not relish the description of matters at Mrs. ,Beaufort's. "Do the Gaines's visit there?" "Mrs. Beaufort has not called upon them. I suppose one reason is, she would feel rather unpleasant at seeing their old noble house so metamorphosed-it is now a mere show- house." "Their house! What do you mean, Sister Caroline?" "Perhaps you do not know that the estate which Mr. Gaines bought up there, belonged formerly to James' father." "What! Beech Wood! Did the Beauforts own that " "Yes; and from what I hear, it is rightfully theirs still, although by bime crook in law they have been deprived of it." "I suppose you did not see the Gaines's, then?" "Mrs. Gaines and her daughter called on me, and left their cards. So James and I, next day, called upon them. The daughter, too, invited James to ride with her on horseback. Poor girl! she does not very much fancy the doings at her own home." "What doings?'/ " Oh, well, there is quite a run of company there from the city. Mr. Gaines is free in his invitations, and young men like to go where there are plenty of champagne and Ma- deira, and they do not always know how to make proper use of it." Mrs. Roff began to look displeased-something troubled her. "I suppose you have heard, then-for everything flies so quickly round in such a place-about Somerindyke's being there?" "I did hear that he was there." page: 324-325[View Page 324-325] 324. TTRTE AND UNLIKE. "What did you hear about him? I suppose, no good- you would not be likely to hear that." "It would give me great pleasure to do so, I can assure you most truly.?' "Oh, Caroline, you have the strangest way with you. Now, why not say just what you think and feel? You know you do not like him." "Sister, I love Susan, and am interested for her happiness. I have had no opportunity, as you know, to be personally ac- quainted with Mr. Somerindyke; but it would give me most heartfelt pleasure to know that he was all you could wish him to be-for Susan's sake, and yours, too." "You are very unfortunate, then, in hearing just those things you ought not to hear. You must have some one about you who takes delight in retailing to you every idle, foolish story-and that is what grieves me, Caroline; that you allow such things." "You are very much mistaken, sister. I wish I could dis- abuse your mind of the prejudice you have against James- for I am well aware you mean him." "Who else would do it? You know well that your hus- band got that first foolish story firom him." "It was by no means the fault of James, however." "Oh, no: he is faultless! A very innocent person! Oh, dear me, how you can be so blinded! But-let it all out. What did he tell you about Somerindyke's conduct while at - Gaines's?" "He never even mentioned his name to me, sister. Nor has a word ever passed between us at any time in reference to Mr. Somerindyke." "He probably told his mother, then-and she told you." "It was only incidentally, sister, that I heard the name of Mr. Somerindyke mentioned at all-and that was by Miss Gaines herself; and to satisfy you I will relate the whole cir- cumstance-although I never intended to have said a word about it." Mrs. Sterling then related the scene of the runaway horse, and the catastrophe to his rider, and also the feelings and expressions of Miss Gaines at the time. Mrs. Roff heaved a deep sigh. "It is dreadfully mortifying that such things should get round. It seems to be so ordered that all these mishaps should so come to your ears. I suppose it was well talked over at the Beaufort's." "KE AND UNLIKE. 325 "I assure you not, sister. Mrs. Beaufort is too much of the lady and the Christian to allow any one's -affairs to be canvassed in her family, and when she found I was a relative of the young man, not a word was uttered in my presence. And further, sister, to show you that I do have a sincere re- gard for your feelings, I resolved never to mention a word of what thus came to my knowledge, and have not even told your brother. He knows nothing about it." Mrs. Roff had been softening down until this last revela- tion of her sister-in-law's considerate conduct quite overcame her-she had to give way to tears. "I wish, dear sister, you would forever put away a feeling of distrust you have manifested toward me-and let us sympathize with each other. Who else can, or ought to take the place to us of true friends, if we cannot be so to one another?" "I am very unhappy, Caroline-very; no one knows what a miserable life I lead." "You have many pleasant things about you, sister." "You may think so, but you do not know. Everything seems to go wrong." Mrs. Sterling could easily believe that to be so. She had reason to know that her sister, Mrs. Roff, had not been taking the right way to secure a blessing. She had been seeking to serve the world and to maintain a certain kind of Christian character at the same time. She knew that in many things Mrs. Roff was exemplary: she was constant at church and church meetings; she was diligent in attending to many works of benevolence, but not sufficiently careful in the matter of regulating her temper-in cherishing the Christian graces-in conforming her disposition and affections to the plain maxims of the, Scriptures. She was also too ambitious in worldly matters, allowed too much license to her children in that respect, had not been careful enough to train them from infancy in the true nurture and admonition of the Lord. She had imbibed a wrong notion in regard to the Christian's duty " to let his light shine before the world"--as if, in order to do that, she must conform in a great measure to the views and habits of the world. In fact, that she had not with all her heart sought to know just what her Master would have her do and be. Mrs. Sterling believed this to be the cause why " every- thing seemed to go wrong with her," and if she did not feel assured that her advice might be misapprehended or page: 326-327[View Page 326-327] 326 LIKE AND UNLIKE. scorned, she would kindly have told her sister what she thought. But she dared not do it-not openly; if she could she would try and lead her to see for herself where the evil lay. She therefore replied: "Sometimes, sister, I find my own feelings giving a cast to everything about me. Things look dark to us when we are not well." "Yes, I know that. That is imagination--but it is not imaginary troubles that I complain of. Everything is wrong --Roff is at times so fractious." "Oh, but sister, that you must make allowance for-men have many anxieties and disturbing causes we know nothing about." "Then the children are not right, none of them but Ju- nius-he is a comfort, to be sure. But the 'girls quarrel so together. Susan and Julia snap and snarl at eachl other, just like cats and dogs. Emma is peevish and fretful. Mary, to be sure, does pretty well. Then this business of Somerin- dyke, it is awfully humiliating." "I know, sister, that must be a source of trial. I have felt much for you. But ' the Lord can make all things work for our good,' if we truly humble ourselves before him, and seek to do His will, and submit to His chastisements." "I thought, and so did Susan, that when they were once married, he would leave off his follies, and be steady and settle down; but he is worse than ever. I know you will say I deserve it." "Sister, dear sister, have I hinted such an idea?" "No; but I know you must feel so." "Far from it; very far from it, I assure you; do believe what I say." "And what comfort do you think I can take in seeing Susan furnish her house? What good will the big house and the elegant furniture do her? She will be a poor, broken-hearted creature before six months have gone over her head; to think how ashamed and mortified she was to come home all alone, or, at least, without her husband! and for him to leave his wife, not two weeks married, and go ashore from the steamboat to have a frolic; and at such a mean place, too. That Gaines, between you and me, is a low creature-if he is Roff's partner." Matilda now came in, and going up to her aunt, put her arms about her neck, and kissing her. "Dear aunt, what is the matter?" -ITrF. AND UNLIKEE 327 Her aunt returned her affectionate salutation, but she could not speak. "Aunty is not very well, dear; go and take off your things, and hand this work to Grizzle, will you?" Matilda gave another kiss to her aunt, and went immediately out. "What a dear, affectionate child Matilda is! I believe she cares more for me now than any of my own children, without it is Junius; Junius is the only one that seems to have any affection; he has a warm heart. He and Matilda ^ seem very much alike." "I should think, sister, Matilda's feelings toward you would convince you that she has no influence at home that would tend to militate against you." "Oh, no, Caroline; I do not believe she has; you must try and overlook my hasty speeches. I know I get all worked up sometimes; things go so wrong with me, I am almost out of my head. Oh, dear, what a world it is! I sometimes wish I was out of it." "That is wrong, sister; you have a great deal to do in it. Your children will need your care more and more the older they grow." "I suppose they will; but there is little peace I enjoy- that I can tell you." "Well, sister, one thing you know; God only can give us true peace, and it is-the privilege of his children to cast their burden upon Him." "' Yes, yes; no doubt. That is what Bustle tells me. Poor Bustle, she has been awfully cast down since the death of Mr. Goodman." "I thought she was not very fond of him:" "That is the very reason why she feels so bad. Bustle is too warm sometimes ; she hurts herself-hurts her influence. Have you seen Julia Russell lately?" She was here yesterday; appeared very well, and seems very happy." "They say Russell is quite a changed man. I don't see how it is; with some folks, things grow better; with me, it is only from bad to worse." ' Your turn will come, sister; depend on it, your prayers will not be in vain; do you ever think of this, sister? God answers the desires of his children, if the desire is for near- ness to him, and a spirit of obedience to him. We some- times make requests for blessings which may not, after all, be the earnest desires of our heart." page: 328-329[View Page 328-329] 328 TTKE AND UNLIKE. "Why should we make them, then?" "Perhaps from custom, or, it may be, that we feel it a duty. May not prayer be offered from a sense of duty, and all the petitions in it right and proper, and yet they may not be put up with the feeling of the hungry child who goes to a parent for bread; 'They that hunger and thirst for righteousness shall be filled.'" "I never thought of that, to be sure; I know there is a difference. Oh, dear, it is a great thing to do right! I don't know as I ever shall." *"And is not that the great secret of happiness-to do right?" "Yes; well, I do try; but where is the use of trying, when everything is wrong about you? It is easy for you, I know; you have everything heart -can wish; but what. would you do in my place-one growling here, and another snapping there, your husband scolding if you send a bill to his office, and your children fretting if they can't have all thev want, and more, too? I tell you, Caroline, you don't know what trouble is; you have never tasted it yet." "I know I have a thousandfold more blessings than I in any way deserve." "You will go and see Susan, I hope, when she gets fixed." "By all means. -When will she begin housekeeping?" "Next week, I suppose; the upholsterers are putting down the carpets. She will have everything very handsome I must say that for Somerindyke, he spares no expense. I hope his purse will hold out, that's all. Well, good-bye. Where is Matilda? say good-bye to her for me. Matilda seems like my own child." "Wait, sister, until I call her." Mrs. Roff met Matilda in the upper hall. "Come, bid aunty good-bye," and puttingher arms around her, Mrs. Roff added: " you must-be my comfort, darling." "I will try to, aunty." Matilda loved her aunt, and no doubt the affectionate man- ner of her niece toward her, in such strong contrast with her own children, had won the good will of the aunt. Mrs. Roff, however, had other motives besides this, for trying to win Matildla to her. She had a set purpose in view; it may not have been a proper one, or, at least, a judicious one, but Mrs. Roff was rather under the dominion of feeling than judgment, or high Christian principle. Mrs. Sterling, too, "KE AND UNLIKE. 329 encouraged the kind and affectionate sentiments in her daughter. She never allowed a word to escape her lips derogatory to her aunt. She always spoke kindly of her, and palliated her more glaring faults. She knew, for it was very obvious, that Junius was partial to Matilda; but such youthful feelings are common where two children are placed in their relative circumstances. She had no brother to wait upon her, and it was natural that her cousin should take the position of a brother, and so long as there was nothing in his character objectionable, his attentions had been a convenienced to the lone child. Mrs. Sterling was, however, a watchful mother, and thought she knew well that Matilda's interest in her cousin did not go beyond a kind of fraternal regard. She, therefore, took no pains to restrict their intimacy. Junius had, since the return of James, showed more marked signs than ever of a feeling of jealousy toward the latter, that could scarcely pass unnoticed. He was, by no means, pleased that his aunt had accompanied 'him to the country, and fan- cied now .that James was treated with more consideration than before, and that Matilda seemed to pay him a deference more peculiar. and marked; it was, no doubt, a freak of his imagination, but it made him unhappy, and being of an im- pulsive nature, and not much under the dominion of his jud;gment, he could not well hide his feelings. The rebuff he had met from Matilda, some time previous, prevented him from venturing to remonstrate with her; he felt that toward her he must exercise caution. But with James, hitherto, he had felt free to express his opinions, and from the mild and gentle behavior of the latter, and the disposition he mani- fested to keep on pleasant terms with himself, had given Junius the impression that James stood in awe of offending him, as being so near a relative of those whose friendship, of course, it was of the greatest consequence he should retain. This idea had imparted to the manqer of Junius, at times, a certain patronizing air, not very agreeable to James, although passed over by him as a matter not worth troubling himself about. A trifling circumstance, however, brought matters to a crisis. James had gone with- Matilda, in company with her parents, to an evening meeting. Junius had called to go with her, but was a little too late, and had the pain of over. taking the little company, and seeing Matilda walking with James somewhat in advance of her parents, and very deeply engrossed in conversation; he did not join them, but remained & , /o page: 330-331[View Page 330-331] 330 LIKE AND UNLIKE. walking by his uncle and aunt; his feelings were much dis- turbed, and no doubt the services of the meeting did him but little good. As the assembly was coming out, Matilda was hindered a moment by a young lady friend, and just then, James came along and stood by her; she, taking his arm, all three walked together into the street, and there they separated. Junius had walked with her to the door, and, no doubt, confidently anticipated the pleasure of accompany- ing her alone to her home; he had merely stepped aside to allow persons to pass, while the two young ladies paused and held their converse. The readiness with which she took the arm of his rival, as he then thought James to be, as well as the familiarity with which the other young lady accosted him, touched him in a very sore place; he did not like to venture the experiment of attempting to displace James, and he was in no humor to make one of their party. So he walked home in a very uncomfortable state of mind. It was not long after James had finished his supper, and while he was busy in his office completing his accounts for the day, when Junius came in; he had not been there for some time, and for that reason, no doubt, James gave him a very cordial welcome, inviting him to take a seat, and placing a chair for him. "You need not be so particular, Beaufort; I feel at home, I can assure you." James thought the remark not quite necessary, and noticed that the countenance of his companion was much more serious than usual, but took no notice further than to say: "I am happy- that you do feel so." "I don't suppose it is of essential consequence that I should receive a welcome from you every time I come into my uncle's office or his house." "I presume not, with this exception: the office in the evening is more especially at my disposal-it is somewhat of a privileged place on that account." "What do you mean by that?" '"Simply that it is not open for business, and by the special permission of your uncle, I am allowed, if I choose, to use it for private reading or to entertain a friend." (' I don't see that that-makes any difference; I presume my uncle would consider me quite at liberty to come here when I choose." James made no reply; he was busy, just then, putting up his books and locking them in the safe. As soon as he had t "KE AND UNLIKE. 331 arranged things to his satisfaction, he took a seat, when Junius again spoke: "I want to have a free talk with you to-night, Beaufort; there are some things between you and me I want to have settled once for all." - "I am perfectly willing, I am sure, although quite ignorant of any difficulty between us that needs a settlement; cer- tainly nothing on my part." "Perhaps not; but I want you to understand that when I am waiting on my cousin, I do not wish you to interfere." "I am not conscious of ever having done so." "Did you not last evening, when you knew I was expect- ing to wait upon her home." "I was under no obligations, that I am aware of, to com- prehend your intentions; in fact, I never thought of the matter." "You saw me waiting for her." "I saw you, certainly; but I presume Miss Matilda saw you, too, and, certainly, she was under no restraint from me." "I don't know what restraint she was under; but you was very careful to place yourself in her way, and in my way, too." "Your remarks, I must confess, are not very gentlemanly; not what. I should expect. You are displeased without cause, and make unjust charges," "I have good reason to be displeased; you have usurped a place you are not entitled to, and because you have privi- leges granted by my relatives, think more of yourself than you ought." ' "I think too much of myself, Mr. Roff, to be affected by your opinion when expressed in a passion." "You must not think yourself too secure in your present situation, nor venture too much on the good opinion of my uncle or aunt; if they knew you was fishing for their daugh- ter, you would be ousted pretty quick." "You have no authority for such a suggestion-not the shadow of authority. I scorn the idea, as beneath the cha- racter of a gentleman, and have no occasion, as you say, to 'fish' for any lady." "Can you deny that you are fond of Matilda?" "It is a question you have no right to ask." "I have a right to ask it, for I am in the place of a brother to her." page: 332-333[View Page 332-333] 332 TI TK AND UNLIKE. "If you were, I should feel that I was in no wise bound to answer it." "You will not get off so; I want an answer, yes or no. "You will not get it from me." "Then, of course, I shall take your refusal to answer as an avowal that you are fond of her." "You can draw what inference you think proper; it is perfectly immaterial to me; it is of no consequence, so far as I am concerned, what conclusions you form." "It may be of more consequence than you think for." "Very well, let the consequences be what they may, I shall be prelared to meet them. Please, now, let this mat- ter drop; nothing further need be said." Junius was highly excited, and would, no doubt, have continued his rude speeches, if there had not been, just then, a gentle rap on the door. James quickly opened it. Ma- tilda was there. She had not, doubtless, heard any harsh sounds, nor, indeed, was she aware that any one besides James was there, for her countenance wore its usual bright -expression. "Will you please walk in," and saying so, James opened the door so that the person of Junius was fully exposed. "Why, Cousin Junius!"He immediately arose, and gave his hand, but the flushed countenance could not escape her observation. "Are you not well to-night?"Her pleasant voice and ear- nest manner was enough, one would have thought, to have driven away, at once, all unpleasant feelings; but Junius had allowed his worst passions to have full play, and they could not readily be put down; without the least change of coun- tenance, therefore, he replied: "Oh, I am very well." Matilda was not by any means satisfied, however, and determined to find out the cause for his very sober face; so, turning to James, who had by this time become quite calm, she said, playfully: "Mr. James Beaufort, mamma would like to see you a few moments, as she is writing to your sister."' James bowed in acquiescence to the request, and at once went up stairs. "Now, Mr. Cousin Junius, I want you to tell, right off, what is the matter, for you seem to be in a very uncomfort. able frame of mind." "KE AND UNLIKE. 333 CI am, Matilda; I am not only uncomfortable, but am wretched and miserable." "On what account, dear cousin? do tell me, if it is proper I should know the cause, or if I can help you." , You can help me, and there is no other human being that can. Oh, Matilda, I want some assurance from you that I am not to be put behind every one else in your pre- ference." Matilda was startled; she feared the old subject was to be brought up again, but she endeavored to prevent a recurrence to it by assuming a jocose manner. 4"Oh, cousin, pooh! pooh! you are nervous, and a very little suspicious in the bargain. I think just as much of you as I ever did-do not let us have any bad feelings; come, let us go. up stairs, and we will have some music, come," and taking his hand, she endeavored to lead him off. "No, Matilda, I don't wish to go up stairs. I see I am no longer in your estimation what I once was. You may laugh at me, but if you knew how very wretched I was, you would " "Then I will not laugh any more; but I want to get off that sober face." "Matilda, tell- me plainly, can I ever hope to have your love? I don't ask it now, I will wait years, if you say so; but do give me some reason to hope-do, dear Matilda." The poor girl was on the point of bursting into tears; his look and his words were so earnest, and the feelings which his ardor had awakened in herself were so utterly new. She pittied and blamed him at the same moment; by a violent effort she restrained the outhurst. "Cousin Junius, you ought not thus to speak to me; do you not know it makes me very unhappy? and you say that, too, which I ought not to hear. Why can you not be satis- fied to drop all such ideas, and be as you always have been, my kind cousin?" "No, Matilda, I cannot, I cannot. I must have some assurance that you prefer me to all others-it will be death to me. Oh, it will be worse than death to see you claimed by any other; do give me some hope. I may never have another opportunity, and I must embrace this; do hear me patiently-let me tell you all my feelings?" '"Junius, I cannot-I will not. I may not stay one moment, longer," and she immediately withdrew her hand. "Well, go; I know the reason: you love James Beau- page: 334-335[View Page 334-335] 334 LIKE AND UNLIKE. fort; he is trying to get you, everybody knows, but all he wants is your money." "Junius!"Matilda spoke in a firm tone of voice, looked fixedly at him a moment, and then burst into tears; while he who had thus insulted and aroused her feelings, took up his hat, and without a word, left the house. Matilda for awhile retired to her own room. She did not wish to make any explanation of what she thought a foolish outhurst on his part, and therefore did not return to the parlor until all traces of tears had vanished. His manifestation of anger had swept away the emotions of pity that had begun to arise, and all the feeling which she indulged on the subject was from the fact, that he had made her weep, for she believed that was his design. The charge against James had no effect what- ever,%so she said to herself, and so she believed; " it was not true," she was well convinced of that. She was aware of a certain weakness in Junius-it had manifested itself in little things when they were quite children,; he never could bear to have her receive attention from other boys. So far, there- fore, as James was concerned, she laid no stress whatever on what her cousin had said; " there was not the least evidence from anything that had ever passed even in their most private interviews, that could be thus construed. She firmly believed that he was no more seeking to win her, than he was to win Aunt Grizzle, indeed he was fill as attentive to Aunt Grizzle's requests as he was to hers." Their conversation on the evening which had been so fatal to Junius' peace of mind, had been on a topic of peculiar interest to Matilda; it had originated from a remark made by James a few evenings previous, -"That he had a very bad heart." Matilda had never before attempted to pry into her- own secret feelings, nor to examine the spring from whence all her motives to action had their origin. She had been a very good girl, in the common acceptance of that term; no one could have pointed to any one particular in her conduct that was not in accordance with a true Christian character and yet, she had no well attested marks of a change of heart; the work may have been begun, and no doubt was, and at a very early period in her young life, but a true development had never yet been manifest. When she heard James accuse himself of having a wicked heart, and believing, as she did, that he was sincere in what he said, she was greatly at a loss what to make of it. "Surely his conduct was most exemplary; there were no external , "KE AND UNLIKE. 335 manifestations of that depravity he felt within." "What could it mean?"And she resolved at her first opportunity to have an explanation from him. And that evening, on their way to the meeting, she brought the matter up, and it was on this subject they were so engaged, and it was for this reason, she so readily took the arm of James on coming out of the meeting; she wished to hear more about it. And ever since, her interest in the matter had increased, and as was very natural, she felt a freedom in conversing upon it with one who had first given her mind an impulse in that direction. She had through the day put down on paper some thoughts of her own, and some questions she wished to ask, and when she now came in the room, after having quite recovered from the unpleasant state of feeling caused by her interview with Junius, she came up to James, and put the paper in his hand, taking a seat beside him; her parents were in the adjoining room, her mother occupied in writing, and her father with the evening paper; the door between the rooms was open. James read the paper carefully, and then pointing to one of her questions, said: "Have you read the passage in John to which I referred you?" "I have, but I cannot comprehend it; it seems to indicate a complete change of the whole character." "Certainly it does; a person who has undergone this change, is to all intents and purposes a hiew being; he has new views of duty--new hopes and fears-new purposes and desires. Old things have passed away-all things have become new. A new world is opened to him, even- in the works of nature. Everything wears a new aspect." "And do all persons who undergo this change feel this? are they conscious of it? Is it a sudden change, like one awaking from a dream, and finding a totally different state 7 of things friom that in which one had been while asleep?" "To some, no doubt it is like waking from a dream, and to such, all their past life seems to have been a dream; they feel conscious that they have not been in a real world, .or at least not in a right state of mind, and they are filled with wonder at their past indifference and blindness, and are filled with admiration and joy at the new aspect of everything. With others, no doubt, the change is not so marked." "' How can these last, then, be so very sure that any change has. taken place?" page: 336-337[View Page 336-337] 336 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "The marks of a true change of heart are so clearly defined in the Scriptures, as not to be mistaken, if any one will be honest in examination. The circumstances of the change may be different, but the result will and must be the samle." "What! must every one be conscious of great joy and of a sudden burst of light?" "By no means; as I said, with some, it is a sudden unfold- ing of light, and with others, and perhaps the greater part, it is like the breaking of day, Joy is not a sure evidence of the change; there will no doubt be joy and gladness when the mind is first relieved from its burden, if that relief be a sudden one; but peace of mind is the most general effect, although neither peace of mind nor great joy is an evidence that ought to be relied upon-some do not have them, who are undoubtedly subjects- f this change." "I do not see, then, how one is to tell." ' (By their fruits ye shall know them.' The best and only true evidence which I think the Scriptures indicate, is a spirit of complete obedience to the commands of God." \ "You mean the ten commandments?"9 "Certainly; they are the basis of all God's commands to us?" '"But does not our Catechism teach that no man, since the fall, is able to keep these, and daily breaks them in thought, word and deed." "I said, if you wml think a moment, 'a spirit of complete obedience.' The mind in the natural state is at enmity with God; it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be; when changed, it loves this law and its constant, earnest effort is to obey it, in spirit and in truth." "I cannot clearly comprehend this, nor do I realize that it is true that the natural state of the mind is enmity against God. I am very sure, so long back as I can think at all, I never felt any such enmity; the commands of God always seemed to me to be right. I never hated them." "I can assign two reasons, which may either of them account for this. From your peculiar training and peculiar circumstances, the innate hostility may never have been brought into action. You have been trained from the first dawn of reason to fear and reverence God; you have' been trained to abhor whatever was evil or wrong; you have been nurtured in love; your bad passions have never been called into exercise by unkindness, by harsh treatment, by neglect, o "KE AND UNLIKE. 337 or by irritation, in any way. If you had, m your infancy, been thrown where many poor outcasts in this city are, amidst vice and want, where profanity would be the first sounds that met your ear, and you had crawled up to your present age amid privation and cruel treatment-if you had never heard the name of God mentioned but in connection with an oath, do you not think many feelings which you now are ignorant of, would be obvious and all-powerfiul?" "I think they might. Oh, dear! I hlave never thought before how-much I owe to my circumstances!" "And to God, who has appointed these circumstances." "Yes, surely I am, and have made no returns! Oh, I see now, I see now, there is evil, much evil in my heart; how could I have lived surrounded with God's special mercies, and yet so ungrateful! Now I see how it is that one can appear externally quite right, and yet there may be much wrong within." "The other reason-you know I said there were two rea- sons I could mention why you did not feel this opposition to God's commands?" "Yes, I know you did; let me hear the other." M"Iost likely this change has been already begun; even when you were .a little child, your mind may have been brought into obedience by the Spirit of God." u' Can that be?" "Why not? No time is designated when this change is to be wrought. Could not the Spirit operate upon your mind when first able to comprehend the teachings of your mother, or the teachings in the house of God? .Can you not recall certain seasons when you have felt peculiarly serious, when something which your mother has said to you, or some- thing which you have heard in church, has awakened all your tender feelings; and it may be, you have gone away by yourself and shed tears because you were so wicked." "Oh, indeed I do! many times have I done so. But how could you guess so near the truth in regard to me? I never told even mamma.9' "Because it is my own experience. .I have felt just so, and never remember a time when I did not pray, and many times when I have been in great trouble because I was con- scious of being wicked. I never remember a time when great light broke in upon me all at once, as many speak of." "Then you can only know that you have met with this 15 page: 338-339[View Page 338-339] 338' LIKE AND UNLIKE. change by what you find in your spirit and temper that is right?" "I dare not say that I find my feelings right. Oh, no; I have to contend constantly against something that is wrong, and I find sometimes there is wrong in my heart which I had not thought could be there; but I believe I can say, I do not love evil, and that I do love the law of God; that I love the character of God as a perfectly holy being; that I wish his will to be done; that I love his kingdom and his people. I do think my heart is on the side of God." "Then you must be happy--very, very happy." "I might be very happy if all the evil- from my heart was gone." "Does it never quite go away?" "I fear it never will-not in this world; but then I know, if I seek earnestly and constantly for grace to help, I shall not be overcome of the evil. Our sins most probably, I think, always cleave to us, but are kept under, subdued, but not eradicated; therefore, no doubt, our Saviour left the warning for us 'to watch and pray lest we enter into temptation."' "Why do you not talk about these things in the class as you have now to me?" "Because, in the first place, I do not feel that it is my pro- vince to do so. These are subjects that belong more pro- perly to the minister or to older persons. I have spoken to you on them because you began the subject, you know, by asking what I meant by ' my bad heart.' What I tell you is merely the result of my own searching the Scriptures. I believe what I have said is clearly revealed; but I would not have you depend merely on what I say. You must talk with your mamma." Matilda made no reply, and for a little while nothing was said between them. '"You ask me why I do not speak on these subjects to the class. I do speak to them-that is, to some of them-as I have opportunity, alone; that is, I have conversed with them on the subject of their personal interest in the Saviour. I think more good can be done in that way; but -with many of them, you know, I am not intimate. I do not wish to be for- ward and obtrude myself upon them." "I don't believe they would feel that you were obtruding yourself. I know they would not. Is that the reason you have never spoken to me?" "KE AND UNLIKE. 339 "Not altogether. I knew that you had one who is deeply interested for you, and is much more able than I am to in- struct you in such matters. And now will you promise me one thing?" "Let me hear it." "Will you make a free communication to your mamma of all we have talked about?" "If you request it, I will." "Will you promise me not to delay the matter?" "I do promise you. But am I not to converse with you any more on it?" "Oh, I shall always be most happy so to do; and I hope that much of our conversation, when together, may be upon these topics." -' I hope-I think it will be so. Can we not hive a tune now? Some of your sacred pieces." James at once went to the piano, and turned to one that he sometimes played--"Hearts of stone, relent, relent!" Matilda stood by him, and as he sang those heart-touching words with more than usual feeling, she was much moved and tried to join with him; but her mind was just then too full-her feelings sympathized too deeply with the words for her voice to utter them. As he sang the last two lines- "Yes, with all my sins I'll part; Jesus, take this broken heart," he looked toward her, their eyes met; tears were gathering beneath those long lashes. He said to her in a low voice: "Can you not say that?" She covered her face and left the room. "James," said Mrs. Sterling, " will you step here?" He went into the adjoining 'room, and took a seat near to her. "I have overheard enough of your conversation to know what you have been talking about. I thank you most heartily." James could not reply; his whole heart had been moved at sight of the feeling manifested by Matilda, and now he could not hide his own. "She is serious, is she not?" He bowed his head in assent, and then, overcome with the idea involved in that question and all the attending circum- stances, he left the room and retired to his office; there to page: 340-341[View Page 340-341] 340 LIKE AND UNLIKE. let his full heart have vent, and to bless God for allowing him to be in any way an instrument in leading one, so much be- loved by many hearts, toward the " wicket gate." CHAP TER XIX. MR. STERLING had been a man of the world; he had, until a few months past, sought merely his own interest; he had accumulated property, and was well satisfied with the world and with himself. He had not cared for many things which men of the world generally set much to heart; he was not ambitious to be thought a wealthy man, and therefore made no display; he was not fond of notoriety, nor of worldly amusements; a quiet, unostentatious life pleased him best, and it better accorded with the views and feelings of his lovely partner. He was prudent in his outlay of money, but had been ready to contribute to any benevolent object, and to contribute liberally. This, however, was done rather to gratify his wife than fi'om any personal feelings. But the change which had taken place in his mind had wrought also a great change in his views of life and duty; he felt now as he had never before, that " to do good and to communicate" was not only a duty but a privilege; that to live merely for himself confined him to a narrow circle--much too narrow for one whose indebtedness to the great Giver was so manifest. His business had been continued for some time rather from the force of habit and because he thought himself happier in attending to it than he would be with no object to employ his mind. It had, however, previous to the time when he took James Beaufort into his employ, been reduced to a very moderate compass. He neither sought to enlarge it by add- ing to his correspondents from abroad, nor by advantageous opportunities of purchasing on his own account. James had entered into the business with his whole heart, he had taken great pains to make himself acquainted with its routine, he had made himself an excellent judge of the staple in which they dealt; he had been very attentive to the old customers of Mr Sterlin g, and had gained their goodl ,TTCT5 AND UNLIKE. 341 will by his affable manners and the business tact he mani- fested. He had also at times, as he kept a strict watch of the mar- ket, persuaded Mr. Sterling to make purchases at reduced prices, which had turned out profitable. His principal had yielded to his recommendation rather for the sake of encou- raging the energy and interest of the young man, than from any special desire for increasing his business or adding to his gains. The result, however, was quite an advance upon the balance which his ledger had shown for some years. A new idea has now for a short time taken possession of his mind. tie did not care on his own account to enlarge his business or to add to his property; but the youth who manifested so much interest for him, and who seemed so un- tiring in his attention to business, had been thrown, as he now viewed it, by a special providence, under his care. He blad no one besides himself to look to for assistance in the world, and he felt that a duty devolved upon- him in reference to the young man which he must take into con- sideration. His business could readily be enlarged. He had abundant capital to make advances on consignments, or to purchase as opportunity offered for favorable investments. He need not involve himself in risks, nor with the burden of business, but would allow the young man by degrees to exercise more and more his own discretion, and to indulge his ambition, within certain bounds, throwing by degrees the care and management upon him; and thus preparing him, as soon as he should be of age, to become either his partner, should he feel inclined to continue in business, or relinquish the con- cern entirely to him. In most cases a man of, Mr. Sterling's cautious nature would have concealed his real designs from the individual he wished to benefit; but he felt confident, in the present case, that he might with advantage make known his views. He waited, however, until the close of the year, when the result of their business should be clearly known. James took great pride in keeping his accounts with exact- ness, the first of January was therefore anticipated with some anxiety, he was so desirous that his books should present a perfect balance. The last week in December had been de- voted to taking an inventory of stock; and James did not leave his office the last night of the year until everything had been completed, and the true balance struck. page: 342-343[View Page 342-343] 342 LIKE AND 'UNLIKE. On New Year's day, Mr. Sterling did not visit his office. The little happy family passed their cordial congratulations to each other as they entered their common parlor. This year especially they had much to be grateful for. Every tempo- ral comfort was around them; and many special spiritual bles- sings had, during the past year, been added to all their other mercies. The father and the lovely daughter had obtained light and peace; and all felt, from peculiar circumstances, a stronger bond of union than usually draws together the hearts of a family circle. James entered the parlor quite early. It was a clear win- ter morning. The coal fire blazed briskly, and the polished grate looked more than usually bright. The handsome presents which the servants had found laid for them on the kitchen mantel, had, no doubt, quickened their efforts to have everything in extra order. James had arrayed himself in his best. It was to be a holiday, and his mind was in the right condition to enjoy it. His work for the last year had been completed, and he felt satisfied that he had done his best. No burden rested upon him, and thus was he hap- pily prepared for the enjoyments of the day. Matilda was the next to enter. She came up to him, not indeed with a smile, but with her face all aglow with feel- ing; and as he took her offered hand, and she received his hearty wish of "Happy New Year," and returned the com- pliment, she added: "It is the happiest New Year's morning I have ever seen." "I am rejoiced to hear you say so. It is, indeed, a lovely morning. I feel very happy myself." "For this I suppose I must thank Santa Claus," said Ma- tilda, holding up a beautifully-bound book. "I found it by my door as I came out. The old gentleman seems to have known just what I most wanted." "Indeed he does seem to possess a certain kind of om- niscience. ' The Lady of the Lake!' I admire his taste." "He writes a beautiful hand, too. Do you not think so?" opening the book, and holding it for his inspection. "He styles himself, also, an ' Obliged Friend.' I am sure I can- not think what I have ever done for hiin that he should thus put it down in black and white!" "I believe he is thought to be a very honest, plain-spoken personage, who says just what he means." "That is what I take him to be; and although I somewhat "KE- AND UNLIKE. 343 object to the qualification, I am very willing to accept the title he has given himself." James looked at her, with evident -marks of deep feeling on his countenance, as he replied: "May I never, by word or deed, cause you to regret these kind expressions!" "But what has Santa Claus brought to you? Nothing!" "Oh, I presume his favors are only for ladies and chil- dren." "Perhaps they are. But here is something," taking from the mantel-piece a small, neat box, and handing it toward him; " and here, too, is a note, both addressed to ' Mr. James Beaufort.' I presume, from the style of address, he does not consider you as ranking with either class." James recognized the hand-writing on the box to be that of Matilda's; the note was from Mr. Sterling. He at once untied the pretty silk string that confined it, and on taking off the lid, saw a beautiful gold watch, with seal and key, snugly ensconced within a bed of cotton wool. He looked at her a moment without speaking. "And this from you /" "I suppose I may as well acknowledge it; and can truly say, as you could not, it is from one who feels under great obligations." James took her hand, which she yielded freely, and for a moment fixed his eye, beaming with emotion, upon her lovely face as it was turned up to him, aglow with kindly feeling. 1"Believe me, this gift has a value beyond my power to express" Just then Mrs. Sterling entered the room, and relinquish- ing the little hand, but without confusion, at once stepped up to salute her. "A very happy New Year, James!" at the same time giv- ing him a mother's kiss. James did not speak in reply, for his heart was too full just then, and Mrs. Sterling continued: "We have all of us cause for much gratitude this morning. The new year opens beautifully. May it be a year conse- crated to Him who has scattered so many pleasant things in our path! But what of Santa Claus?" James held forth his beautiful present for inspection, saying: "I have been favored with his notice beyond anything I could have imagined, and far beyond what I deserve." page: 344-345[View Page 344-345] 344 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "But your note!" said Matilda. "You have not opened that yet!" James immediataly broke the seal. A small piece of paper was inclosed within it. He recognized it at once as a check. He first read the few lines addressed to him, the color mant- ling his cheeks, and the marks of deep emotion strongly mani- fest; he then unfolded the inclosure, and at once exclaimed: 6"Oh, this is too much!" and he turned away and walked toward the window to hide his feelings. Mrs. Sterling, how- ever, followed him. "Let me see it, James ;" and glancing her eye over it, as he handed the note to her, she perceived it was from her husband; and as she read the few lines in which were ex- pressed his satisfaction with James, and gave him notice that his salary this year should be doubled, her feelings were also highly excited. "6 Well, James, I can rejoice with you, and can bless God that you have found so true a friend as Mr. Sterling. And I can assure you that you have but to go on as you hitherto have, and you will find your way for life made easy. Mr. Sterling never holds out expectations that he does not mean to meet. He is judicious as well as liberal." "May not I see what all this is about?" said Matilda, coming up and looking with a smiling countenance at James. "Oh, certainly." She read the little document through, and then asked: "But the little paper that was inclosed-may I not see that?" James had not shown it to Mrs. Sterling, but he at once handed it to Matilda. "Oh, is not this splendid! dear mamma, only see. Two hundred dollars! Oh, I am so glad; I shall give him a dozen kisses for this-so I shall." And as the door opened, and her father entered, Matilda stepped quickly toward him, and began a battery upon his well-shaven face that quite surprised him. "Hoot, toot, Sis, what is all this for?" "It is not only for New Year; it is to thank you for your noble, generous gift to James, for I know he cannot tell you himself how he feels." James stepped up and gave his hand to Mr. Sterling, but, as Matilda said, he could -do nothing more; it was not needed, however, to convince the noble-hearted man that his kindness was deeply felt. ,TKE, AND UNLIKE. 345 C"A very happy New Year to you, James," said Mr. Ster- ling. "But, what is this?" taking a note which lay on the mantel-shelf directed to himself; " is this from Santa Claus, I wonder?" -He opened it, and found an abstract from his balance sheet, showing quite an advance in his gains for the last year beyond what he had anticipated. "Well, well; this is to the point; and do the books come out straight, James?" "Perfectly so, sir." "Let me see, papa."- "No, no, miss; you will want to' be spending more money than you ought. No, no; ladies must keep their eyes out of gentlemen's books." "Oh, well, so long as Mr. (Pocket-book,"' looking at James, ( is so liberal, I don't care to see into things. I guess I shall have all I want." When the breakfast was over, Mr. Sterling had a long interview with James, and unfolded to him some plans which he had been thinking of. It will not be necessary to go into detail; they had reference, no doubt, to the interest of the young man at a future day, although veiled under the pretext of enlarging his own business. "I have, for some years," he said, "not taken pains to enlarge my circle of correspondents at the South; but it may be a great thing for you to become personally familiar with the trade at the South, and to become acquainted with those we now deal with, and with others of the right stamp. I, therefore, propose to send you there this winter for two or three months. My letters will be an introduction to you, and your own good management must do the rest. I give you leave to add as many as you can induce to consign their tobacco to us, and you can engage to make liberal advances. What do you say-will you go?" i "With pleasure, sir; I only fear you will find the labors at home here too burdensome." "Not for two months, at least; there will not be much to be done hele for January and February." "Then would you wish me to go at once, sir?" "The sooner the better; just as soon as you can get ready." "I can be ready in two days." "So let it be, then." "Have you made out your list for to-day?" said Matilda, 15' page: 346-347[View Page 346-347] 346 T KE, AND UNLIKE. as she came in ready apparelled for church, and addressing herself to James. "' My list?" "Yes; your list of names that you are to call upon." "I have not thought of it. I shall not make many calls; perhaps I shall go to see Aunt Dinah, and. one or two others." "Now, Mr. James Beaufort, you are not to get off so; you must call upon every one of your class, at least; why, Emma Coles will feel dreadfully if you should not call on her." "Please excuse me from going there; you know they are a very wealthy family, and live in such style." "What of that? have you a single young lady in the class more respectful to you, and more attentive to her lessons than Emma? and, moreover, I can tell you there is not one thinks more of you." "Not one?" and James fixed his eye a moment on Ma- tilda; there was more meaning in that look than perhaps he intended to convey, for it caused her to blush, and her air at once was that of deep seriousness; she hesitated, too, in making a reply. "I mean not one among those who do not have the privi- lege of classing you among their particular friends." "I will do as you say, and, perhaps, as I am going away, it may be proper for me to call, if for nothing else than to say good-bye." What do you mean by going away?" "Just what I say; has not your mother told you? I think she must be aware of it." "I wish you would say at once what you mean; you would not trifle on such a subject, and I know, by your countenance, that you do not think it a serious matter; you could not thus appear, I am very sure, if-you were really going to leave us!" "If I was not going under such peculiar circumstances I certainly should not. I am going, at your father's request, to spend a month or two in Virginia, and, perhaps, shall visit Kentucky." Matilda made no reply, and if James had been on the watch for tokens of interest on her part, he might have drawn sweet consolation from the manifest effect of the tidings upon her ingenuous nature. They had taken her by surprise. She felt sad, and made no attempt to conceal her feelings, "KE AND UNLIKE. 347 Mrs. Sterling now entered. "I believe," said she, " it is time we were going. By the way, James, among your calls, to-day, I hope you will not fail to remember Miss Gaines.?' "Must I, Mrs. Sterling?" you know she has lately lost her mother. "I think you had better. She will not receive visitors, of course, to-day; but, no doubt, she will be glad to see you as a friend." "Why, surely, mamma, she is one of his class, now, and I never saw a greater alteration in any person than there has been in Miss Marianne." "How so, Matilda?" "Why, mamma, both in her conduct and her dress. You know, she used to dress -so as to make herself very con- spicuous; now, she dresses plain and genteelly; and she used to be always laughing and trifling, even in church, so that she was an annoyance to those who sat near her; but now she is sedate and very attentive. I would go there, James,' by all means." We shall not follow Mr. James Beaufort. in his round of calls that day, and will only attend him as he makes the one last intimated. M 5iss Marianne was seated alone in her splendidly-furnished parlor, and when James entered, arose to meet him in a very cordial manner; the tone of it, however, was very serious, quite in contrast with what he had witnessed on former occa- sions. James apologized for his intrusion; "he knew she would not probably feel like receiving visits of ceremony." "Not visits of ceremony," -she replied; " but you cannot think, Mr. Beaufort, how much I have wanted to see you. I have been hoping you would call." "I believe I have called upon you, Miss Gaines ; it is some time since, I acknowledge, but my time is much occupied." "' Oh, I know you did call soon after we returned to the city, but you have not been here since I united with your class; do you not visit the members of your class-I mean as their teacher?" "I have not done so, perhaps, as much as I ought. I feel rather unpleasantly about performing that duty. I know that most of the young ladies are much engaged with com- pany in the evening, and that is the only part of the day I can call my own. o My call would be, most likely, a mere ceremony; I should have little opportunity to bring up page: 348-349[View Page 348-349] 348 LIKE AND UNLIKE. such topics as I could wish; in one or two cases, I have been personally requested to visit them, and have, of course, complied." "I have a great deal to say to you, and have longed for an opportunity. You remember, when you were last here, you advised me to procure Doddridge's ' Rise and Progress.'" "I did; and have you read it?" "I have; I have read it a great deal." Miss Marianne manifested deep feeling; she could with difficulty utter the few words of her reply. "I hope," said James, " since you say you have read that book a great deal, that you can sympathize in its senti- ments?" There was no reply. "All I can say to you, Miss Gaines, is-I believe if you follow the directions there given, you will find that peace which passeth all understanding. I believe its directions are warranted by the Scriptures. You read your Bible, of course?" "I do." "Do you love to read it? Do its revelations seem of great value?" "Oh, they do. But" She covered her face, and burst into tears. "You must excuse my weakness," she said, as soon as she could reply, "I have been in the habit of allowing my feel- ings, whether joyous or sad, to have their own way. I know it is foolish." "Not foolish to weep for a proper cause." "Oh, no; but I fear it is not for a proper cause. If I only knew that my distress was of the right kind! My fear is that I am only alarmed because I find myself exposed to the wrath of an angry God." "Perhaps your views on that point may not be correct. Our Saviour has been careful to represent God rather as a father, ready to receive a wandering, erring child back to his favor-not as an angry ruler, waiting to execute his wrath. You have read the story of the Prodigal Son?" "Yes, I have, and have often heard it read; but I have never thought about it particularly." "Have you a Bible at hand?" She at once drew from her pocket a small Testament. "I am glad to see that you keep such a precious document so near to you," "KE AND UNLIKE. 349 James soon found the passage, and read its most expressive portions. She listened with intense interest-her eye was fixed immovably upon him. "These," he said, " are our Saviour's own words-an il- lustration from his own lips. A very reckless, abandoned and ungrateful son, driven to extremity, and in his utmost need, resolves to venture on his father's kindness, and is re- turning for the purpose of acknowledging his sins, and to ask a place among the servants. His father sees him afar off. He does not wait-he runs to meet him. He does not upbraid-he embraces him-he clothes him in the best robe-he feasts him, and welcomes him with joy." Miss Gaines clasped her hands together, and with a look of deep earnestness, exclaimed : "Can it be so? Does it mean that a poor sinner will meet such a welcome?" "Surely it is so; for our Saviour immediately adds: -' There is therefore joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.' I beg of you, therefore, to go to God as to a lovingfather, against whom you have sinned- acknowledge your disobedience, and throw yourself upon his. mercy through Jesus Christ." "But supposing I do not hate sin, and it is only fear that possesses me?" "But you will hate it. The more you comprehend of God's love to you, the viler will your sins appear. The question is, are you ready to forsake them? or do you wish still to cling to them?" "Oh, no! no! no! I do not wish to cling to them!" "Are you ready to obey your Saviour-to do what He commands--to avoid what He forbids?" "I think I am: I feel now very sure I am."' "Then what hinders you? Go at once. Be reconciled to Him from whom you have wandered. God is waiting to be gracious. He does not delight in your suffering. He wants you to be happy, to turn from your evil ways, that He may embrace you in the arms of everlasting love. Will you promise me to do this? to do it without delay-your present feelings are a token to you that now is the time; the Holy Spirit is urging you to make the decisive step. Will you do it?" "I promise you. Oh, can it all be? Can one so un- worthy! so giddy! so thoughtless! so willful! as I have been be ever owned as a child?" page: 350-351[View Page 350-351] OiV T IKF AND UNLIKE. "Doubt it not for one'moment. Would the Spirit of God be at work within you, inciting you to return to Him, merely to mock you by casting you away. Go with confl- dence-only go with a sincere, broken heart. There is no- thing so sure as that God will welcome to his arms the re- turning prodigal." "But you are not going?" James had risen, as about to depart. "I believe I must leave you, now. Indeed, I could say nothing further if I should prolong my stay. Only do as you say you will." "I will-I will do just as you have requested. Allow me to thank you for this visit. I have longed for instruction, and knew not where to go for it. I should have spoken to you, but feared you might 'think it forwardness on my part. You will call soon again? I promise you company shall not hinder me from having a private interview." "I would comply with your request with pleasure, but I am about to leave the city for some months." "For some months!" And Miss Gaines looked, no doubt, as she really felt, surprised and saddened. "I expect to spend about two months at the' South; it semems best for me that I should." "You are not going to leave Mr. Sterling. I mean to leave his employ." "By no means; it is his kind interest for me that has al- lowed me to go. Oh, no--I should be sad indeed if any event should cause my loss of his favor. And that makes me think how I wish you could be intimate with Mrs. Ster- ling. She is a noble woman, an enlightened, conscientious, sincere Christian." "I should rejoice with all my heart to have the privilege of her acquaintance. But how can I? She does not visit us, you know. She has called on us, and we have returned her call, but that is all." "May I tell her how you feel, and that you would be happy to have her counsel?" "Oh, yes--by all means. And must I really say good-bye now, and fbor so long a time? What will our class do? Shall we have no teacher?" "I shall engage Mr. Wyckoff, one of our elders, to teach it.- He has done so when I have been occasionally absent." There was no forwardness of manner on the part of Miss Marianne--a vast change had taken place in her whole de- "KE AND UNLIKE. 351 meaner since the period of his first interview. She felt sad, but there was no affected show of feeling. No one indeed, as it seemed to her then, could enter into her state of mind as he could, or in-whom she could, with such sisterly confi- dence, repose. From their first acquaintance he had gained her respect, and it had increased by every Sabbath's in- struction in the class. But the last hour had brought him into a relation with her that caused feelings of deep interest and unbounded confidence. He would ever after be asso- ciated in her mind with one of the most heart-stirring periods of her life. She followed him to the outer door, and then sought her own room, with a full resolve to comply with his request, and her own promise. CHAPTER XX. THREE months have gone by since the scenes transpired as recorded in the last chapter. Mrs. Bustle is much en- gaged in public labors. There is unusual sickness among the widows-some have bad colds, some are troubled much with rheumatic complaints, and some feel unusually languid from the sudden change to warm weather, and are much of the time in bed. What ailed them, Mrs. Bustle did not know, For when she inquired they merely said '" they felt bad-bad all over." "Are you in pain?" "Not much." "Perhaps if you get up and stir round you will feel bet- ter." "Can't get up; got up yesterday and sat awhile, and had to go to bed again." " How does your food taste?" "Good-very good." "Oh, well, maybe you will feel better in a day or two." * "Can't say-hope I will." Mrs. Bustle did not feel much anxiety about such cases, but they kept her on the move. There was likewise some Bxtra stir in the Church-a new- minister was about to be settled. He was one after Mrs. Bustle's own heart, and if page: 352-353[View Page 352-353] 352 LIKE AND UNLIKE. all that was rumored was true, she had been mainly instru- mental -in getting him. He was, in fact, one of those minis- ters very likely to please the taste of Mrs. Bustle; he had a clear voice, a fair, full face, dark hair, and a good form; he was moreover a D D., not very young, and he was noted for orthodoxy. He likewise had the gift of saying very good things, which everybody allowed to be good, and which no one ever thought of doubting, in a very bold and fearless and emphatic imanner--insisted with great earnestness on certain propositions which were as old as preaching, and strained himself to enforce them with as much oratorical power of lungs as though he was driving his ideas into a company of reprobates, instead of an assembly of God-fear- ing, innocent hearers who knew these things all by heart, and had no doubt at all of their truth. Mrs. Bustle had been abroad on this particular day of which we are now treating for the purpose of getting the ladies of the Church to subscribe for a silk gown for their new minister, Dr. Sampson. He was to be installed in a few days, and as he had not been in the habit of wearing any such clerical ornament, and as Mrs. Bustle and many others in the Church loved the old ways, and as their former min- isters had worn one, it would be best--so Mrs. Bustle thought-to forestall matters, and have the thing ready; it would be a gentle hint that they wished the Doctor to wear it. Now all this is of no consequence, any further than it leads to some other things which relate to our story. Mrs. Bustle having made many calls, and having been very successful in her mission, was in good spirits that even- ing-that is, for her. In general, Mrs. Bustle had so much to do si bearing the woes of our "' miserable world," as she styled the present life, that much of her time, especially when alone with Mr. Bustle, was spent either in talking about some crooked thing or other, or in venting heavy sighs. Mrs. Bustle was in good spirits for her; and she had news to tell Mr. Bustle. And when Mrs. Bustle had any such de- lightful burden on her mind that could be relieved, or ought to be, it- gave a vivacity to her sparkling eyes, and quite lighted up all her features. Mrs. Bustle never started un- pleasant topics at the tea-table. Mr. Bustle enjoyed his evening meal. He took his tea and toast always with a relish, and he generally ate in silence-indeed, he never at any time cared for long talks; but he had, in a very per- "KE AND UNZLIKE. 353 emptory manner, positively declared to Mrs. Bustle if he could not " eat his supper" in quietness, he would not eat it at all. She therefore, with a laudable desire to accommodate him as far as was reasonable, avoided giving him annoyance while he was doing his duty to himself at the tea-table. And another reason, and a very proper one, too, was, that many things which Mrs. Bustle liked to talk about were such as might get her into trouble if any ears but those of Mr. Bustle should be listening to them. So Mr. Bustle finished his supper, -ealled for his slippers and the evening paper, and with much apparent satisfaction settled himself in his large easy chair. Mrs. Bustle waited until the things were cleared away, and then she too nestled into her own individual little sanc- turm of a rocking-chair. She was not very large in person, although she. lad a very powerful soul. "Did I tell you, Mr. Bustle, that we have got enough to purchase the gown?" Mr. Bustle looked up a moment over his spectacles, as though not quite comprehending his good lady. "The gown, I say; we have collected enough to buy the silk and to get it mnade up." "Oh, aye. The one for Dr. Sampson." "He will look well in it, Mr. Bustle." "If he only acts well in it, it is all I ask." "How can you doubt that, Mr. Bustle; he is a man long known and established. He will not be bringing forward new things, I'll warrant you. By the way, Mr. Bustle, is it true as some say that nothing was mentioned, when they gave him the call, on the point of Baptism?" "I can't say, for I wasn't there; but I think it is likely to be as you say." "But why should they have omitted that, when it was the very thing that made so many feel hard toward poor Mr. Goodman?" Mrs. Bustle spoke tenderly now of Mr. Goodman. "I suppose they thought it was a delicate matter that had better be let alone." "I should have thought you would have seen to that, Mr. Bustle." "Me! I see to it! You know, Peggy, it is a matter my mind ain't very clear about. I had rather leave it for others to settle." ' ' "I am afraid, Mr. Bustle, you are not much in favor of page: 354-355[View Page 354-355] 354- TK AND UNLIKE. Dr. Sampson after all." Mrs. Bustle knew that all the time. Mr. Bustle made no reply; he was looking over the paper. "What can you say against him, Mr. Bustle?" S "Nothing." "Has he not a fine, clear, sonorous voice?" "Very." "Does he not preach the truth-the good, old-fashioned truth?" ' I can't say but he does." "Whlat would you have more, Mr. Bustle?" "J don't want any more, Peggy." "What do you want, then? -Do say. I know from the way you speak and act that you are not heart and hand for him. Do speak out, Mr. Bustle, and tell what the matter is., "There is nothing the matter I tell you, wife. But just let me ask you one thing. What made him leave his own church and come to us?" "That is- a strange question, Mr. Bustle. Don't they do it all the time? One thing I can tell you--it wasn't because they did not like him, for they fairly worshipped him." "Why, should he leave them, then?" 4"Well, you know, Mr. Bustle, there is some difference be. tween churches, ain't there?" "Yes." '"Do you not think our church stands a little higher than the one where he was settled?" "The one he leaves is the highest-it is higher up-town than we are."- "Now, Mr. Bustle, you know well enough it was no such thing I meant. In plain words, is -not our church the most respectable of the two?" "' Supposing it is, Peggy, can you from your heart say that was any n-otive that should lead a minister to make a change?" "We give him a larger salary." "I know that, Peggy ; and that is not all; he is promised to have it made larger still. Our richest men have let hinm know that they shall do well by him. Ah, me!" " What now, Mr. Bustle. What are you groaning at?" "It is enough to make a man groan. Peggy, I did not mean to open my mouth to a living creature; but you have brought on one thing and another, until I feel all stirred up. "KE AND UNLIKE. 355 I tell you he is a But no matter, I won't say it. One thing I will say, it makes-me dreadful uneasy to sit and hear him. Now supposing, Peggy, I should take hold of that handkerchief of yours, and hold it up before you. It is white, aint it?" "Yes, it is white-or it is meant for white." "Very well, now. I go on and try to convince you by a whole string of arguments that the handkerchief is white, and then pounce upon you in a loud voice, insisting upon it, that it is white-it is white; let them deny it who will, the handkerchief is white. I tell you it cannot be gainsayed the handkerchief is a white handkerchief, and it will remain a white handkerchief until it is worn out, or dyed another color." ' Mr. -Bustle, you are getting out of your head." "No, I aint; I am only giving you a sample of the preach- ing we halve got to expect, and it makes my back ache to think about it. Who wants to be shut up in a pew and have a man up in the pulpit, dinging with a loud voice, as if he was saying something of great importance, when all the time it is nothing but what we have heard a thousand times, and believe just as truly as I believe you are sitting there? It is all flummery and fine living-mind my wolrds, Peggy. And I tell you what the upshot of all this will be: I shall stand it as long as I can, and when I can't stand it any longer, I shall up stakes and go into the country." iMrs. Bustle began to be alarmed. Mr. Bustle had several times of late thrown out such an idea, and she knew when hea once got his mind rightly settled on any project or point, it was hard turning him. She was not quite ready for such a move as that. But Mrs. Bustle had weightier matters still upon her mind. "One thing I hope, however, Mr. Bustle, now we are about to have a new minister, and things put into shape again, that we shall have something done about discipline, for it ought to be attended to, and that straight off." "Discipline! Who is it wants discipline? though for that, a little of it might do us all good." "How you talk, Mr. Bustle! You don't mean discipline- regular church discipline--surely you don't." "I mean we are not any of us any better than we ought to be." "But you believe a man may go so far one side and make page: 356-357[View Page 356-357] 356 LIKE AND UNLIKE. such scandal that notice should be taken of his conduct. Oh, it's dreadful to think of!" "What is it, wife? I do wish sometimes you could get hold of something that wasn't dreadful and out of the way; one would think you hunted for 'em." "Very well, Mr. Bustle." And Mrs. Bustle leaned her head upon her hand, and commenced rocking. She spoke those few words in arvery subdued tone. Mr. Bustle looked over his paper a little, but he could not, read-that is, to any purpose; he felt that he had been too hasty. At length, he put down his paper. "Peggy, you mustn't mind what I said just now; I spoke just as it happened; but there are so many cross-grained, ugly things going on all the time out of doors, that I don't want to have my mind stirred up when at home." "I don't wish to stir it up, that you know; but how can I help telling of things which belong to you to see to as an elder of the Church ; people tell me these things because they know our station in the -Church. How can I help it?" "Well, well, what is it, then? What have you heard now?" 'It is dreadful to think of; I never would have thought it. But young men can't be depended on. I did think, how- ever, though I have never thought so much of the young fellow as some do--he is too stuck up and thinks too much of himself, according to my mind; but I never could have thought he was quite such a hypocrite!" "Who is it, Peggy, you are talking about? and what is the matter with him?' " "It is that young man of Sterling's. And to think, too, that he has been having a large class of young girls under his care! But it is what I feared all along would come of this new plan with the Sabbath-schools. I tell you, Mr. Bus- tle, it is a very dangerous system as it now works." "I know you have always been crying out against it; but do tell what the matter is with the young man." "Well, you see, this morning, in going my rounds, I called on Sister Roff, and had a good Christian visit with her; but I saw something was on her mind that she wanted to say, and by and by it came out. It seems that this young man has just come back from Virginia, and Mrs. Roff says he is clean spoiled by his visit there-he is more stuck up than ever, and is full of his consequential airs, and that Sterling and his wife are clean taken away with him, and that it is making it very unpleasant for the two families." "KE AND UNLIKE. 357 "That is none of our business, Peggy; we have nothing to do with other folks' families; let them keep their own squab- bles to themselves." "Well, I was just saying what she told me; that, may be, though, has nothing to do with this thing I am coming to; but I suppose Sister Roff wanted just to let out her feelings -you know we must have some one to tell our feelings to, and she feels free to tell me just what troubles her." "I think it would be better for Mrs. Roff, and other people too, if they could just keep some things to themselves; what earthly good does it do for people to be gabbling out to everybody all they know?" "Women are not men, you know, Mr. Bustle; they want sympathy--they want some bosom to which they can freely unburden their troubles." "Yes, and they keep the thing going by unburdening, as you say, from one bosom to another until the whole world knows it all. But do go on with your story; or is that all?" "It is not all by a great deal, Mr. Bustle; it is a very seri- ous matter, and the Session will have to see to it, and that right off, for it's a scandal to the whole Church, and it will be a burning shame if that young fellow is not taken in hand and put away from among us right straight off." "What has he done? Come, do tell." "Well, I can hardly say it; but Sister Roff says, she has incontestible proof of the fact that he is a very bad young man; eye-witnesses can prove it." "What can they prove-?" Mrs. Bustle looked at her husband, and making a peculiar twink with her eyes, and giving a significant nod with her head, concluded that the pantomime would be perfectly understood. "What do you mean by that, Peggy?" "I don't want to say any more, Mr. Bustle; you know what I mean." Now Mr. Bustle, being a very pure-minded man, was by no means quick to interpret signs of bad import. That Mrs. Bustle meant something dreadful he had no doubt, but what it could be was still a riddle to him. "I suppose you mean something bad; but why not say right out what it is." "You understand me well enough. I don't want to say it-but he goes to places where he ought not to go." And page: 358-359[View Page 358-359] 358 LTKE AND UNLIKE. the same twinkling of the eyes and nodding of the head are repeated. "Now, Peggy, I don't believe it. I have had my eye on that young man of late-I have watched him-I have taken my seat near him on the Sabbath, and I have heard him teach his class, and I have seen how he conducts himself -and I don't believe a word about it. Who told Mrs. Roff?" " That I don't know; but she says it's living truth, and can be proved." "I hope you have not said anything about it to any one." Mrs. Bustle did not reply to Mr. Bustle's remark, so Mr. Bustle continued: "Remember, he is a fellow Christian with us-his name, his character should be deal to us. If he is wrong, we must mourn for it, to be sure; but before we help to spread a bad rumor, we ought to be certain of its truth, and even then we had better not talk about it. But this thing may not be true, or it-may be only in part true. I know there must be some great mistake. Has Mrs. Roff gone to him or to his friends and told about it, to see whether there may not be some great mistake?" "No, she has not; for she says it would be of no use; they would only think she was prejudiced and had some ob- ject in view." "Then she does not act at all like a Christian. She had no right to say one word to you, or to any one else, until she had let the, young man have a fair chance to clear himself. Now, Peggy, I tell you what I shall do-I shall go right to him and let him know what I have heard." "You will not say that I told you?" "I shall tell him just the whole concern, and give him my authority." "Mr. Bustle, yo,u must not do any such thing. How should I feel to have him come here, or for me to meet him, and he knowing I had told it. You surely do not want to get me into trouble." "No, I do not; but you say Mrs. Roff told you in order that I, as an officer of the Church, should know it, and my duty is now, since I do know it, to go straight to him and tell him what I've heard." On the very day that Mrs. Bustle had been gathering the intelligence which she had been thus doling out to her hus- band, Mr. Roff had called on Mr. Sterling, and the two gen- "KE AND UNLIKE. 359 tlemen held a long cference in private, and as they separated, Mr. Sterling remarked: "You will call on Bowman and engage him to go with you, and I will meet you precisely at eight o'clock at the corner of Leonard street." "I will, if you say so; but it seems to me quite unneces- sary for me to have anything to do with it; it is more pro- perly your concern." "That is true; and yet it: would be more satisfactory to me that you should be there; it can do no -harm, at any rate; we are both concerned-you, in sustaining the testimony of Junius, and I, in ascertaining the whole truth of matters." "Well, then, I will see Bowman, and meet you there." Mr. Sterling was unusually silent at tea that evening, and his wife, as well as Matilda, noticed it, and rallied him on the subject, but without its usual effect; his heart had a weight upon it which he could not throw off. '"You asked me, James," said Mrs. Sterling, " if I had any message for Dinah this evening; are you going there?" "I shall be in there, I expect, ma'in." "I have a small bundle to send her, if it will not incom- mode you." "By no means, Mrs. Sterling; I will take- it with plea- sure." ' Mr. Sterling was about to ask a question, for lie turned his face toward James, but made a mere passing remark which had no reference to the subject in question. After -James had retired, he asked : "Was James up at Dinah's last evening?" "Indeed, I do not know, my dear; he was out somewhere, but I did not ask him where." "He has been out more, of late, has he not?" said Mr. Sterling 6 I cannot say, as to that; in fact, I do not know, always, when lie is out; he spends, you know, part of his evenings in the office." "I think of it now, mamma," said Matilda, "he must have been at Dinah's last evening, because lie handed me an apple to-day, and he said Aunt Dinah sent it to me." Mr. Sterling left his home a little after seven o'clock, and with a tumult of contending feelings, he walked on his way to meet his brother-in-iaw and the police officer. The revela- tion Mr. Roff had made to him had filled him with anxiety. He firmly believed there must be some mistake; he could page: 360-361[View Page 360-361] 360 LIKE AND UNLIKE. not give up his faith in James, and yet he had experience in life enough to know that virtue has its counterfeits, and that even a virtuous youth may be decoyed from the fair path. It was, however, of the utmost consequence to him and his that the whole truth should be known; the charge made by Mr. Roff, and substantiated as it was, must be examined into. As he neared the appointed rendezvous, he distinctly recognized James a little distance in advance; he was walk- ing alone; as he came to the corner of Leonard street, he turned down toward Church. Mr. Sterling did not follow him, but preferred to wait for the two other gentlemen whom he expected every moment to be there; they were soon on hand, and all three walked down in silence. Just as they' reached the portion of the street opposite to Dinah's, a young man came out of her gate, and walked with haste up the steps of the next house, and tapped at the door; presently, a young woman, gaily dressed, opened the door, and smiling, as she saw him, at once admitted him and closed the door. "Now, Sterling," said Mr. Roff, " do you wish any further testimony? is not the sight of your own eyes sufficient?" "I am satisfied as to the person who has just entered; but, as I have gone so far in this matter, and as Mr. Bow- man here can, as he says, give us access to the house, I must confess I should prefer to leave nothing undone, now, that can give certainty to suspicion." "I shouldn't think," said Bowman, " there was much use in it; he is evidently familiar there; he was recognized at once -you both saw that; but, if you say so, I can just as well take you in as not; they know me well enough, and that their doors must open when I say so." "I wish to sift the thing thoroughly, and know the worst at once." - !"Come on, then, gentlemen; only you let me -be the spokesman." They ascended the stoop; there was quite a flight of steps, and Mr. Sterling could with difficulty mount them- his limbs trembled under him, his heart sunk and was sad. A knock at the door brought almost immediately the same young woman who admitted James. As soon as she saw the officer, she was evidently alarmed. "We want to see the young gentleman who just came in here." "He is up stairs, in my sister's room." "KE AND UNLIKE. 361 "Are you sure of that?" and so saying, Bowman opened the door of the fiont room and stepped in. Mr. Sterling hesitated, but Mr. Roff, impelled by eager curiosity, followed the officer; in an instant he stepped back. Mr. Sterling saw he was pale and deeply agitated. The officer, assured that, the person he was looking for was not there, again closed the door. "I told you he was not there; he is up in my sister's room-the back-room in the next story," said the girl. The officer walked on, Mr. Sterling followed him, and Mr. Roff, also; the latter gentleman, however, with a sad as well as angry countenance. As they reached the platform above the stairs, and the officer was about toknock, he paused and listened, and then, in a low voice, addressed Mr. Sterling: "Just listen here! do you know that voice?" "I do; what does it mean?" "I suppose some one is sick here. He is praying, is he not?" But Mr. Sterling could not reply; he knew the voice well; he could hear the petitions, and he could hear the sobs of some who were weeping; his own tears started; his heart, from deep depression, now was strained with exultant joy. Mr. Roff heard, too, but he said nothing. In a few motnents the door was opened, and an elderly female, her emaciated face streaming with tears, passed through, and closed it behind her. She looked at the gentlemen with some surprise. [Mr. Sterling at once spoke to her : "You have some one sick in that room?" ' It's my daughter, sir-my youngest daughter. She is most gone,' the woman spoke not much above a whisper; "but, thank God, she seems to be ready; her mind is at peace. Would you wish to see her? that dear young man, Mr. Beaufort, is praying with her; he comes most every evening and makes a prayer and talks with her; and oh, what a comfort it has been! it would do your heart good to hear her talk, poor thing. There is no one there but the old colored woman -friom the next door. Would you like to go in?" Mr. Sterling thought a moment. "No, Iry good woman, it might disturb her." And then in a low voice to Bowman: "I am satisfied; we will go down." "You are convinced, now, Brother Roff, that there has been a mistake." "I am, Sterling; but I want to talk with you." 16 page: 362-363[View Page 362-363] 862 LIKE AND UNLIKE o "It has turned out quite a different affair from what I thought for," said Mr. Bowman, when thtey were again in the street; " but that young fellow has run the chance of having hard stories told about him; it aint every man that would make such a venture. Is he a'son of yours, Mr. Ster- ling? I have seen him in your office." ' No, sir; I wish I owned as noble a fellow; I should be proud of him." The gentlemen, as they left the house, had walked to the other side of the street; they stood a few moments con- versing together, when they perceived the door open and James, accompanied by Aunt Dinah, descended the steps, and entering her gate, were lost to view. The officer now left them, and the two relatives walked slowly up toward Broadway. (& Sterling," said Mr. Roff, " what shall I do? I am almost distracted! I have a good mind to go at once to Susan's and take her home with me, and never let that infamous wretch see her again." "What is it, Brother Roff? What do you mean?" "I Did you not see him?" "C See who?" "' Somerindyke! the villain!" "Is it possible!" "Would you not advise me to do so-to take Susan home at once; how can I bear the thought of her living with such a wretch?" "You had better do nothing rashy; wait until you have well considered the matter. Did he see you?" "I think not; I am quite sure he did not." "Take time, then, and think of it; she ought not to be allowed to live with him, but for - her sake, try to keep mat- ters from the ear of the public. He is her husband now." "Yes; and I wish I had buried her before I had ever allowed her to marry him." Mr. Sterling had said so at the time, but his voice was then unheeded. Alas for the heart of that parent; for worldly motives he has ventured the happiness of his child, and now the bitter cup is held to his lips, and he must drink it. "There is one thing must be done, however, Brother Roff; this unfortunate story has originated with Junius; he, proba- bly, has told his mother. No doubt Junius has meant well, but mischief may be done should the story spread; if no one "KE AND UNLIKE. 363 but Felicia knows of it, well and good; but if she has divulged it to any living soul, she should take steps, without a moment's delay, to stop it." "I shall see to that." The next morning, as Mr. Bustle was making preparations to go down town, Mrs. Bustle was startled by a call fi'om her friend, Mrs. Roff. She was almost out of breath, and looked very pale and careworn; that she had called so early, too, was a matter of astonishment to Mrs. Bustle; something must have happened! Without any regard to the usual compliments to her friend, and with a faint " good morning" to Mr. Bustle, Mrs. Roff said, in a low voice: "Can I see you alone a few minutes?" "Come in here," and Mrs. Bustle led the way into the back room. "Have you told Mr. Bustle what I said to you yesterday about young Beaufort?" "Indeed I have, and he is going right off this very minute to see the young man about it." "Oh! if you have any love for- me, do stop him, do not let him go for anything!" Mrs. Bustle said nothing, but hastened to the parlor, where she had left her good husband; he was not there; she flew to the front door and looked out-he was beyond call. She gave the bell a violent pull. "James, run, run and speak to Mr. Bustle, he is going up street toward Broadway; tell him I want to see him on important business; run, James." And then she flew back to her friend. "He has gone, but I have sent a servant for him." i "Oh, dear! what a trouble I am in! I hope you have not said a word to any living soul but Mr. Bustle!" "Only to Betsey Sterne." "Betsey Sterne! Oh, frightful! I would not for the value of the whole city have the thing get about. You see there has been a great mistake. Oh, why did I not wait and inquire into it a little more first! what a world of trouble it would have saved me! but do, dear soul, go right off as quick as you can and see Betsey, and tell her it is a mistake. You see, Roff is dreadful angry; he -has had Junius up and made him tell all about it, and it seems that Junius never saw him go in there alone; he always had Aunt Dinah with him, and he might have known there could not have been anything wrong, or Dinah would not have been with him. Why the page: 364-365[View Page 364-365] 364 - T TKF AND UNLIKE. boy did not tell me the whole truth, I don't know. Young Beaufort went there to see a poor sick and dying girl." "There! Bustle has come back. I hear himl; I must go and tell him what the matter is." "And then you will run to Betsey Sterne, and if she has told any one, make her go right off and stop it. You see, if the thing; should get round, and that young man's name be injured, my brother would make the Session call us all together, and have the whole matter sifted; and what a ridiculous thing that would be! You will go right off, won't you? And now I must hurry home, for I have left Roff scolding and fretting! Do come and see me soon, for I am full of trouble; one thing comes after another-there seems to be no peace for me any more." "You must bear your cross cheerfully, Felicia." "Yes, but when such things come upon one as have come upon me now, it is hard to bear them cheerfully, for I suppose I may say, in a good measure I have brought them upon myself; but I wont't keep you, for I want you to see Betsey Sterne just as soon as you can." Mr. Bustle had not quite recovered his breath when Mrs. Bustle entered the room; he was wiping his face and walking about; the message of the servant had alarmed him, and he had made more haste in returning to his home than was con- sistent with his moderate habits and his stocky person. "What is it, Peggy? You have alarmed me exceed- ingly." "Oh, well it is nothing of consequence, only you see, Mrs. Roff is afraid that story should get round." "What is she afraid of?, If it was not true, she ought to have been afi'aid before she told it; and if it was true, she couldn't mend the matter by telling it." "I know that, Mr. Bustle; but you see, she thought I ought to know it, you being an officer of the Church; but there will be no need for you to do anything now, as there is nothing in it after all. It was not, indeed, a very reputable place where he visited; but he only went there to see a dying person, to talk and pray with her, and he always took some one with him. So you need not give yourself any uneasiness, Mr. Bustle, nor trouble yourself in any way about it." "I told you so,. I told you so, Peggy; there must be some mistake, I knew there must; and now, you see, what evil might have come of it! but it is well it has gone no further- "KE AND UNLIKE. 365 only let this be a lesson to us not to take up an evil report, without we first go to the very foundation of the matter, and know all about it; it is well you have not told any one else." Mrs. Bustle made no reply; but she seemed to be quite restless, and Mr. Bustle, having his eye on her, was some- what uncertain what ailed her; a suspicion that something was wrong crossed his mind. "You are sure, Peggy, that you have not said a word about this to anybody but to me?" "Oh, well I merely spoke of it to Betsey Sterne." "Oh, dear me!" and Mr. Bustle sat down as he uttered this short sentence, apparently feeling very desperate. "Why you need not look so frightened, Mr. Bustle; the world is not coming to an end yet. I am going right away, am I not, to see Betsey, and tell her about it. It worries me, Mr. Bustle, to have you take things so to heart." 4 I have told you, wife, many tinmes before this, that Betsey Sterne was a very dangerous person for you to be so intimate with. She hears everything and knows everything, and tells all she knows, and I fear more too; what earthly good could it do you to say anything about that business to that woman? Why could you not just keep it to yourself; is it a pain to you to keep anything you hear, in your own breast?" "No, it is not; but don't you ever tell anybody any- thing?"' "Not in the general way, you know that, Peggy; and let me ask you one thing, what does that passage mean, ' bear ye one another's burdens,' if we cannot keep to ourself any little foolish tattle that comes to our ears about one another-how can we be said to bear one another's burdens? Besides, you know what is said about ' tattlers and busybodies,' and going from house to house." i"Oh, Mr. Bustle, you set my head all in a whirl; if you will only stop bringing up such tantalizing texts, and let me go right of and see Betsey Sterne, it would be much better." / "I do not want to hinder you from going to see her, for I think the sooner you get there the better; like as not she will be off soon, if she has not gone already, to see some one or other; no doubt it burns in her, and she is aching to get rid of it." Mrs. Bustle wanted to have the last word, but she felt there was too much probability in the idea suggested by Mr. page: 366-367[View Page 366-367] 366 LIKE AND UNLIKE. Bustle. Betsey Sterne had a weakness of the kind hinted at, and if she should get off before Mrs. Bustle should see her, there might be a world of mischief done. So she left Mr. Bustle to himself, and was soon on her way to see her friend. Mr. Bustle waited until quite recovered from the extra exer- tion he had made, and then very leisurely walked out and visited some of his tenants on special business, and then spent an hour or so overlooking the joiners as they were at work finishing a new two-story house he had been erecting. It was quite two o'clock before he again reached home, and Mrs. Bustle had not yet returned. He thought nothing strange of that, however, for he knew Mrs. Bustle had a good deal of outdoor work to attend to. She would no doubt be in before dinner. It was, however, very near their dinner hour before he heard her well known ring at the door, and her step in the hall, although he was in doubt as to whether it could be Mrs. Bustle, the step was so very moderate. "You look very tired, my dear." "' Mr. Bustle, don't talk to me. I amn almost dead! I am tired almost to death; such a tramp as I have had!" "Why did you not order the carriage, Peggy? you ought always to ride when you have so many places to visit. Have you been among your widows?" "Among the widows! Now, Mr. Bustle, don't you know better than that? don't you know I started from here to go and see Betsey Sterne?" "Oh, yes, yes, I know that, but her house is not far off. You must have been much further than that." "Mr. Bustle, I have been over the length and breadth of this great city." "Then why did you not order the carriage?" "Mr..Bustle, you do not seem to consider what you say; was it worth the while for me to order the carriage just to drive me round the-next street. You know I went to see Betsey Sterne, but how was I to know that I should have to follow her from house to house, over the whole city?" "Sure enough! Then she had gone out when you got there?" "Haven't I said so, Mr. Bustle, that she had gone out? and of course I must after her; first clear down to Chambe rs street, then down the other end of John street, then up to Murray street, then to the Bowery, and-then, at last, I found her. Oh, dear me!" - . 'I' LlKE AND UNLIKE - jt7 "Well, as I often tell you, Peggy, the tongue is an unruly member, it makes a world of trouble." "I know you often say so, and you often read a whole string of such passages, when you are reading the Bible, and I have no doubt you mean it all for me, for your tongue will never do any harm, no danger of that. You are very unkind, Mr. Bustle, when you have a mind to be." "Peggy, Peggy, you are tired now. You are not your- self. You had better go and rest you awhile, and calm your spirits. You are very, very tired; I know you are." "Oh, Mr. Bustle, if you do not want to drive me out of my senses you will stop with your provoking ways." "How do I provoke you? Have I not spoken as mildly as it is possible for a man to speak. You have brought this upon yourself by doing as a Christian ought not to do. Mrs. Roff had no business to tell that story to you, and you did a very wrong thing in telling it to Mrs. Sterne; and she, no doubt, had told it to some half a dozen people before you saw her; and now, because you have had to work, like putting out fire, in running round the streets to stop a ptorl you helped to set agoing, and are mortified that it has all had to be contradicted, you wish to lay some wrong charge upon me; just as if that would help the aching in your bones, and the trouble in your mind." "That will do, Mr. Bustle-that will do. Nothing more just now, that is if you please. I will try to profit-I will try to do better." It was very unfortunate for Mr. Bustle that he had at- tempted to make such a long address. It tended to stir up his mind. He was evidently excited, and Mrs. Bustle's mild and humble rejoinder made him feel quite ashamed. He wished he could recall his words, but he could not do that; to say he was sorry for them, he could not just then; so Mr. Bustle walked once or twice across the room, and then walked out. page: 368-369[View Page 368-369] 368 LIKE AND UNLIKE. CHAPTER XXI. THOSE who look to this world as a portion of itself suffi- cient to meet the desires of their heart, lean upon a slender reed. That there is much to enjoy here no one can deny; and to the pure in heart, to those who have the wisdom to choose the better things which life has at its disposal, there are sweets alluring to the taste, and nearly allied to the joys of a better world. But experience teaches all the sad lesson, that uncertainty hangs over every prospect, no matter how pleasant it may seem, nor how firm the assurance of enjoy- ment. How many beautiful mornings, of blue sky, and pure air, and bright sunshine, change, ere a few hours are past, to clouds and gloom, and the sweeping tempest. James Beaufort was now approaching his twenty-first year. He had been wise in his conduct-untiring in his exertions to please his employer, and had pursued a straightforward, upright, sure course. His efforts had been blessed: whatever he had undertaken, either in reference to his business or to his duty as a member of the Church, had been successful. He was beloved by the family, where for some years he had lived, and respected by all with whom he had any intimate relations. The heart of jealousy had indeed been stirred up against him; and some, no doubt, watched, with eagle eye, in hope that his steps might be turned into some by-path or forbidden way, or that some mischance might wrest from him the favor of his friends, and with that the high hopes he might reasonably indulge; but their desires had not been gratified, and it only became more and more sure, as each. year rolled by, that he was destined to a bright course, and an easy fortune. As to himself, whatever hopes he may have indulged, there was no apparent self-gratulation. The kindness with which he had been treated by his employer, and the members of that family, had not caused himn "to think of himself more highly than he ought to think." He had a firm belief that God alone could make his way truly prosperous, and that in walking in the way of His precepts in all humility of mind was the sures%. and safest way for him, and the only way in which he could have true peace. He was not a lover "KE AND UNLIKE. 369 of money for its own sake. He was not eager for wealth, or even independence. He never allowed himself to indulge in vain imaginings of great prosperity. He looked forward, no doulbt, with desire for the time when he should be established in Eome permanent business on his own account-when he should take his stand as a merchant, and by honest and honorable competition engage in his life-work. He wished to rise by his own efforts, and would be satisfied with small gains and protracted labors. , In one month more and he would reach his majority, and the reader will of course know that we have passed over some portion of time without a record. We have done so for the reason that nothing of consequence occurred that could tend to develop his character more fully than it had already been unfolded. As we have seen, Mr. Sterling had already held out to him the expectation that he should in some way be interested in the business, but whether as a partner or on his own respon- sibility, James, of course, could not tell. This matter, how- ever, now was to be definitely fixed. Mr. Sterling had been seated in his office, conversing with James on some matters of business; and the latter was about to go to his desk, when he was requested by his kind employer to resume his seat, as he had some things of conse- quence to say to him. Of course, James at once complied. "I believe next month, James, completes your twenty-first year." "It does, sir." "You remember, no doubt, what I once said to you in reference to this business; I mean as to your making it a per- manent pursuit?'" "I do, sir; that is, I remember you were kind enough to say something about it." "Perhaps you have some other plan in your mind? You may not care to continue in this kind of business." "I have thought of nothing else, sir, although I did not by any means feel, from what you once said to me on the subject, that anything was decided on. I have wished to leave that matter entirely to yourself. I surely could wish no better business. The only difficulty with it is that considerable capital is required." "That is true; but if you wish to follow it, that difficulty could easily be obviated. When I mentioned the matter to you some months ago I felt undecided as to my continuing in 16* page: 370-371[View Page 370-371] 5V - TKTiF AND UNLIKE. it; but I fear, if I leave business entirely, I shall be unhappy. I have been so long accustomed to be actively employed, I dare not trust myself without something of consequence to engage my mind. I find so many who at my age -have re- tired from business who do not feel contented, from not knowing what to do with themselves, that I must say, I am afraid to venture it, and therefore I have come to the conclu- sion not to give up." "I have thought, Mr. Sterling, that you might regret tak- ing such a step; and I hope, sir, you will not for a moment allow yourself to be troubled by anything you have said to me on the subject. You'have been so very kind" "Wait a moment, James, and hear what I have to say. You, no doubt, think, because I tell you that I do not intend to give up business, that it will prevent my realizing to you the hopes I held ott, for the reason, that you have often heard me say, ' never meant to have a partiner.' 'That has been my feeling, I acknowledge; but my views have changed, or at least circumstances hlave changed. I never thought to find one in whom I could feel sufficient confidence to bring into such a relation to me. 5 But in you I have confidence-- just the same confidence I might have in a son; and to as- sure you of it, I now propose to you, that as soon as you are of age to take you inas a partner. I shall allow you one half the business. Now, what do you say to such an arrange- ment?" -"What can I say, Mr. Sterling? It is not only beyond anything I have ever imagined, but it seems more than your generosity ought to allow me.'" "Why, to tell you the truth, James, I feel much more concerned to have you get a good start in life than to ad- vaace my own fortune. I have enough, but I wish to keep employed. The responsibility, you know, I have for some time devolved upon you, and shall expect you to keep it. If, therefore, you are satisfied, you had better get things in rea- diness for making a balance of accounts to July, and then open the books in the name of James Sterling & Co. You need a new hand, and must look out for a book-keeper; the responsibility of that, too, I shall leave to you, and hope you will be as lucky in finding one as I have been." James knew Mr. Sterling's peculiarity in not wishing much said to him personally when he bestowed a favor; he therefore expressed in few words how deeply he felt the kindness manifested by this offer. J1A& AO X U .1AK.1(.- O 4 1 Mr. Sterling was about to leave. He had said all he wished to say. He was a man of few words, especially in business matters. But James had something on his mind that he had for some time wished to communicate. He had put it off for a favorable opportunity; and he was almost tempted to put it off now, but the kindness which his em- ployer had manifested, and the assurance he had given of perfect confidence in him, urged him to a disclosure. "Mr. Sterling, if you have leisure for a few moments" James' voice had an unusual tremor to it, but Mr. Sterling was not at all surprised at that circumstance. He knew how he felt in, relation to the subject upon which they had been conversing, and supposed, of course, James was in con- sequence somewhat excited. He retained his seat, and fixed his eye upon the young man. He saw that he was deadly pale. "I wish to say a few words .to you, sir, on a very impor- tant subject. You have always dealt -so kindly by me that I have long ago made up my mind never to do anything in which you were interested without a free, open exposure to you.. You have treated me more like a friend and a father than a mere employer." "I have treated you, then, James, just as I have felt, and I wish you to come to me always with perfect confidence for aid or advice." "Thank you, sir. I want no aid; there is nothing about my circumstances that you are not fully acquainted with; but, sir, I want to open my heart ,to you on a delicate sub- ject, and to throw myself entirely on your generosity. As I have never done anything since I have been under your roof that I would not wish you to know; so I never design to. Can I ever hope, sir, to gain your consent to my union with your daughter?" Mr. Sterling started; he was taken by surprise ; he looked at James a moment' in silence. iYou surely are not engaged!" "You do not suppose, Mr. Sterling, I would attempt such an act without first obtaining your approbation. I have not the least idea how such a proposition would be received by your daughter, nor am I conscious of ever having, in all my intimacy with her, allowed an act or expression that could give her the least intimation of my true feelings toward her. That I have a sincere, a strong regard for her, I frankly tell you, but to no human being besides yourself has any such avowal been made by me." page: 372-373[View Page 372-373] 372 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "This, James, is just' what I should have expected from you, and I rejoice that my trust in you has not been disap- pointed; and more than that, I thank you for your firankness, and'your honorable conduct in this particular adds to my good opinion of you. And now, I shall deal as frankly with you as you have with me. I tell you in all truth, that there is no one to whom I could, with so much confidence and with such hearty good -will, commit my daughter as to you. But" Mr. Sterling paused, and fixed his eye upon him. James was startled; that but dashed the hope which had been excited. "But, I wish you to have a clear understanding of my feelings. Matilda is yet young-too young, as I think, to know her own heart-at least, too young to enter into an engaagenlent upon which the happiness of her future life depends. She is now but seventeen; my own opinion is that twenty or twenty-one is a much more desirable age for any such arrangement on the part of a lady. I will not, how- ever, insist upon that. Matilda is more matured, perhaps, than many at the period of life she has attained, but I should prefer that at least one year more should intervene before anything should be said to her. If, after that, you should succeed in gaining her consent, you shall have no opposition from me."' "I pledge you my word, Mr. Sterling, to abide strictly by your wish." "You will understand then, James, that matters are to remain as they now are for a year. You will be allowed the same intimacy as heretofore. Matilda is not to be made acquainted with the fact that you have unveiled your feelings to me, so that she will not feel under any constraint when with you." "I understand, Mr. Sterling, and I thank you most heartily for your generous treatment, and I shall endeavor most religiously to observe the same course toward her that I have hitherto pursued." "Then that matter is settled also, only I must say to you that the fact ytu have revealed to nme in reference to your feelings toward the child I love so much has brought you into a more tender relation to myself, for whatever may be the result, whether you shall succeed in winning her love or not, I shall take pleasure, hereafter, in -doing for you as for a son. I suppose you will have no objections that Mrs. Ster- ling should know what has passed between us?" TTKFk AND UNLIKE. 373 "None at all, sirl; I should wish her to know it, and have been on the point, several times, to open my heart to her; but my judgment has led me to feel that the revelation ought to be made first to yourself." "I ought to tell you, perhaps, that we have decided to let Matilda spend part of the coming year away from home. Some friends at the South have been long urging us to let her spend -a winter with them, and we have consented to let her go to Richmond in November next. She will probably not return until the spring. I tell you this now, lest you might suppose the arrangement had been made in consequence of what you have now made known to me. You will probably accompany her to Richmond, if I do not." Mr. Sterling now arose, and taking the hand of young Beaufort- "Now, James, we fully understand one another, and I trust there need never be the least concealment on the part of either of us. You can always be as free and open to me as if I were your father, and I shall rely as confidently upon you, as if you- were my son, and may the blessing of God rest upon us both." James could not reply, for his heart was full. As Mr. Sterling left the office, he took his usual seat at his desk, but merely firom habit; he could do nothing but ponder on the strange development of Divine Providence concerning him which the last hour had revealed, and hearty were the thanks- givings which went up to that great benefactor who was thus- crowning his days with loving kindness and tender mercy. The skies were bright and the air was pure and filled with life. It was early morning. Birds, wild with joy, sent forth their various melodies from tree and shrub; dew-drops glit- tered on the flowers, and threw back the sunbeams as they streamed above the eastern hills, in red and violet and green and blue. The sun advances on his mighty round; the dew-drops dissipate and rise toward heaven; the flowers droop and fall beneath the scorching rays; the birds are silent; the heavy mists are gathering in the west, and their dark masses roll slowly but steadily on; the sunbeams are hidden; deep shadows spr6ad over the earth ; a blinding flash, a terrific roar! and the tempest bursts and leaves desolation in its track. page: 374-375[View Page 374-375] O { e LIKE ANJD UNLIKJE. CHAPTER XXII. THE summer of 1822 will, no doubt, be remembered by many in New York who may read these pages, as one of those seasons when the angel of destruction hovered over the city with his avenging sword; when the dire pestilence came stealthily into one small street and spread in circling eddies day by day ; prostrating its victims without warning, and driving the affrighted inhabitants away from their homes and places of business. Some to the country, and some to the outskirts of the city, where shanties were erected, or stables, or other vacant buildings that could be hired, eagerly seized upon, whither they might convey their articles of merchandise. Vague reports had been circulated for a d y or two that a case of yellow fever had occurred in Rector street, but these reports had been contradicted, and all were anxious to believe them untrue. Mr. Sterling bad some business with a gentle- man about to sail for Europe, and he spent some hours on board a vessel lying at the foot of Rector street, and-in that part of the city. He, among many, had no faith in what they called an idle rumor, and engaged as he was with his friend, forgot entirely that any such rumor had been circulated. He made no mention to his family of having been in that vicinity, and retired to his rest that night in his usual spirits and ap- parent health, merely remarking to his wife, " that he had a slight headache ;" he gave it as a reason for going earlier to bed than usual. He did not sleep, however; the pain in his head became gradually worse; it extended down his back; he was restless; sickness and vomiting next seized him; the family was aroused. James went for the physician. His symptoms alarmed the doctor, who was an attached friend; he could not be mistaken; the deadly fever was upon him. Other physicians of note were called in; all united in opinion as to the nature of his attack, but, from prudential motives, did not reveal the terrible secret to any of the family except James and Mrs. Sterling. Through the next day-the mind of Mr. Sterling was wan- dering; he knew each individual, and would at times address to each a sentence manifesting that his thoughts rested on --7t;;- i .: .i -j .-.- j -;=ir-il --i--ii---h l. Cll I "KE AND UNLIKE. 375 him or her in particular, and that he wished to give instruc- tions--but nothing was definite. Once, indeed, looking at James with earnestness, he said: "The advertisement-the advertisement must not be delayed." No one but James knew to what he referred; the latter merely pressed his hand upon -the burning brow of the sick man, and tried to calm him into repose. At another time, when Matilda and his wife and James were standing near him, his eye wandered from one to the other, and fixed its gaze on James. "He must manage; he knows all about it. You hear me," he said, looking at his wife. "I do, my dear husband." "That is right." That night the messenger was there--the last blow struck; the husband, the father, the friend was -released from earth and all its interests. The dark cloud had settled over that household, and its heavy gloom was on every heart. But the end was not yet. Mrs. Stelling, worn down with fatigue and overcome with grief, had retired to her chamber and her bed-alas! never to rise from it. The symptoms of the fell disease were soon manifest-not so violent indeed, nor did it accomplish its work so soon; some days she lin- gered, and at times there was a faint hope of recovery; but the hope was delusive, four days from the time the husband of her youth was laid in the tomb, her coffin was placed by his side. Within this period, a universal panic had seized not only that neighborhood, but the whole lower part of the city, the hum of business had ceased, stolres were closed and dwellings left without inhabitant. Mr. Roff had removed his family, at the invitation of Mr. Gaines, to his residence in Murray street, that location being then considered far enough from the infected district. Neither Mr. Roff nor his wife had seen Mr. Sterling; the former was at his funeral, and had done all in his power to persuade Matilda to accompany hiln home, but to no purpose; he called also during the illness of Mrs. Sterling, and insisted with much earnestness upon taking his niece with him; but at the solicitation of the physician, who knew how determined she was not to leave her mother, he at length yielded. After the last funeral solemnities were over, he called again-Junius was with him. They came huriiedly upinto the room where the little family was ga- thered-Matilda and Aunt Grizzle and James were there. The latter .did not go to the grave, as Aunt Grizzle had per- page: 376-377[View Page 376-377] 376 T'.TRT AND UNLIKE. suaded him to stay and try to comfort Matilda-the poor young girl was prostrated with the sudden blow that had thus in a few days destroyed the beauty and hope of her young. life. James had also been willing to forego- the sad pleasure of following one he had loved so truly, to her long resting-place, for another reason. A change to some other abode must at once be made, the physicians advised it most urgently; and moreover, the Health Commissioners, they said, would order it. "But where should they go?" James could think of no better refuge than his home in the country, and on many accounts it seemed desirable. Matilda believed that she would meet in his mother and sisters warmer sympa- thy than she could hope for elsewhere. She thought not what her friends in town might say; her heart now leaned on James, she looked to him as a protector, a guide, a bro- ther. She knew the confidence her parents had reposed in him, she knew he was a partner of her father in business, or thought he was, for the time was at hand when the fact was to be made public. She had heard her father, too, in his wandering, say, '"He must manage;" and who then could so properly advise or direct her movements now? She there- fore had concluded, since they must go somewhere, to do as he had suggested, and seek a refuge with his friends. He himself did not expect to remain at his home, but after escorting her and' Aunt Grizzle, and the servants if they wished to accompany them, he must return and attend to the affairs of the' business. The latter, however, concluded to go to their own friends in the country for the present; but Aunt Grizzle " would never leave Matilda," so she said, and Matilda resolved never to leave her. Their plans had been made, so far as they could- be in their present state of feeling, when Mr. Roff and Junius entered. As they came into the room, little notice was taken of James, not even by Junius, " he was no longer a person of any consideration ; his strength had departed--the source of his power dried up." So it was in reality-Jamnes had not thought of it; indeed, he had not thought of himself or his own interest; his mind had been too completely absorbed in the sufferings of others, and his heart torn with sorrow at the sudden breach made uDon his own affections--worldly in- terests, pecuniary loss, had in no wise entered 'his imagina- tion. Their cold and distant manner took him by surprise, and was the first token of his true situation; "' he was nothing "KE AND UNLIKE. 3" now but a clerk who had lost his place-and was again a firiendless youth!" A shock for the moment thrilled his heart and sent the color to his cheek; but the scene which at once took place arrested his attention and caused him to forget his trou- ble. Mr. Roff and Junius both went up to Matilda, and accosted her in the most gentle and soothing manner. She gave her hand to Junius, and he wept with her. After a few consoling remarks by the uncle, or such as were intended to be so, he put his hand kindly upon her shoulder. "Come, my darling, now I want you to go with me; your aunt says you must come. She would have -come with me, but she is not fit to be out; she is worn out with grief. You know now, dear Matilda, that you have no one but your aunt and me to look to, and we wish to be parents to you, and your cousins are all anxious to take you to their arms. You will find that you have still warm hearts that are ready to cherish you with the tenderest care." Matilda was much affected, not only by the words but the manner of her uncle; the tones of his voice were very tender, very unlike their usual expression. Junius, too, held her hand, and seemed too much under the power of feeling to be able to speak. She made no reply; indeed, she could not. Come, my darling; Grizzle will get your things." Grizzle made no move-she was in tears too; but she waited to hear what Matilda would say. "You get her things, Grizzle." And Mr. Roff then spoke with his usual authoritative air. "No, no, wait, Aunt Grizzle. I thank you very much, uncle, for your kindness; but I do not feel as if I could leave to-night--indeed I do not; and when I do leave I wish to go firom the city." "But where, my child, can you go? We are your only relatives--the only persons who have any claim to you, and the only persons you can now look to for protection. Where else can you think of going?" "My father seemed to wish that James would direct for us, and I think I shall go to his mother's. I know she loved my mother, and I am very sure I can confide in her." "Matilda, come with me a moment, I wish to speak with you alone." She followed her uncle into another room. , page: 378-379[View Page 378-379] / d LIKE AND UNLIKE. "Now, Matilda, I must be plain with you. You are ex- hausted and weak; you" surely do not exercise your usual judgment. What would all your friends think of such a move? Do you want to hurt the tender feelings of your aunt, your only near relative? Such a proceeding on your path I fear, would almost distract her. And then, what would be thought of your going off with a young man and throwing yourself upon his relatives? Surely, you have more respect for yourself than to commit such a blunder. I know you will most bitt-l- regret such a step, and will blame me that I allowed you to\take it. Go home with me, take time for reflection-do, I entreat of you.". "I have reflected upon it, Uncle Roff; I do not mean to throw myself upon anybody's charity-I shall pay abundantly wherever I am; I shall not be among strangers, either. My mother was very fond of Mrs. Beaufort-she is a lady and a Christian. Her standing is of the highest respectability. James has been as a brother to me, I have the utmost confi- dence in him, and you knowl that my parents had, or my father would not have taken him as his partner." "He is no partner." "Oh, yes, uncle; I know it was to have been advertised several days ago." "But it has not been done, my dear child; your father's sudden illness frustrated any such plan. He has no interest here whatever." "Is that so, uncle? Has James nothing more to do with the business?" "No more than the most perfect stranger. By the provi- dence of God you are now thrown upon your nearest rela- tives. What arrangement your father may have made of course we do not yet know, but surely he would not. have committed you to strangers. At any rate, go home with me now, and as I said, take time for reflection." "I must first see James, uncle. I can promise nothing un- til I have seen him." Mr. Roff reflected a moment, and then left the room. "Mr. Beaufort," he said, as soon as he entered where James was, (' I should like to see you a few moments." James at once arose and followed him. As soon as they were alone, Mr. Roff commenced, in rather an excited manner: "I regret exceedingly the course you have taken in endea- voring to persuade Miss Sterling to take such a strange step "KE AND UNLIKE. 379 as to go off with you; it is not only very wrong, but I must say, not quite gentlemanly." James was roused, but he made a strenuous effort to keep his temper in subjection; he answered firmly, but without apparent emotion. "I think, Mr. Roff, it would have been more just to me if you had first ascertained the truth in this matter. I have not persuaded Miss Sterling. She expressed her wish to leave the city, and I offered her my mother's home if she were willing to go there." "But you ought to have resisted any such proposition- you know that we are her only relatives, the only persons who have any claim to her obedience, and any right to direct her conduct." "I acted, Mr. Roff, as I shall ever act in regard to Miss Sterling. I offered her my protection, and shall ever be ready to do what in me lies to accomplish -her wishes." "Your protection! And what does that amount to? You must remember that your place here is now vacant, and that every hour you remain on the premises is a breach of propriety; you have nothing further to do here either with Miss Sterling or the business. I shall, as her friend and nearest relative, take charge of everything until legal mea- sures are instituted and things properly arranged. And I now demand of you the key of the safe, where I understand the books and papers of Mr. Sterling are deposited; delicacy and propriety, I should have thought, would have dictated to you that this should have been done of your own accord." "I shall be very ready, sir, to deliver the key of the safe, or any other'responsibility which has hitherto devolved upon ,me, whenever I can do so with propriety." "What am I to understand by that?" "I have been intrusted by Mr. Sterling with certain re- sponsibilities-his books, his valuable papers, and what money at any time was not on deposit in bank, he has intrusted now for more than a year to my keeping. At his death this charge was upon me. I know not what directions he has left on record, by will or otherwise, for the disposition of things after his death. I shall therefore retain the power I have had until the proper person, either named by him or appointed by public authority, shall be ready to relieve me from it." Mr. Roff was evidently confounded by this reply; he bad hoped, by asserting his superior light to the control of mat- ters, that James would have been cowed into submission page: 380-381[View Page 380-381] 880 LIKE AND UNTIKE. For some reasons, he was intensely anxious to have things entirely in his own hands. Should there be no will, he had great hopes of being appointed as sole guardian anid executor. At present all was in the dark, and his mind in a very dis- turbed state. He saw at once, from the calm and decided manner of young Beaufort, that all attempts to overawe or drive him were useless. "You have taken your stand then, sir, and must abide the consequence; but I shall lose no time, depend upon it, in having you released from your responsibility." And so saying, he left the room and entered the parlor. Matilda was then conversing in a low voice with Aunt Grizzle, while Junius, looking rather downcast, sat by him- self at a distance firom them. James followed Mr. Roff into the room, as he wished to see Matilda. .Some things which that gentleman said had taken a strong hold of his feelings. He came up at once to Matilda. "Miss Sterling, your uncle, Mr. Roff, has told me that he considers my remaining under this roof, even for an hour, is a breach of propriety, and as I cannot consent to be con- sidered an intruder upon any person's rights, I shall at once seek some other place of abode. If I can be of any service to you, I am ready now, or at any future time, to render it to the utmost of my ability; only let me know what I can do for you." Matilda was startled by his address-she hardly knew how to- construe it. She saw that he was much excited, but she could not think it was on her account, or in consequence of anything she had said or done, and yet there might be some misrepresentation. She was resolved to know. "Will you allow me to speak with you in private?" As she spoke, she walked into the next room, and James followed her. "'Have I done or said anything that troubles you?" "You have not. I am ready, as I have just said, to go to the extent of my ability to serve you; only let me know what I can do." "James, my mind is almost distracted. I feel more like secluding myself from the world, and giving relief to mv ach- ing heart in tears, than making plans even for a day. I want 1 some-one to counsel me, and I must look to you to aid me as you would a sister. I promise you- that I will do just -as you direct, and Aunt Grizzle is ready to follow me wherever I go. We cannot stay here, the Health Commissioners will not "\ "KE AND UNLIKE. 381 allow it. I do not wish to- stay here, I never wish to see this house again, and it is painful to me to think of staying in the. city. You know, -too, that I never can be happy in the family of my aunt." "There are difficulties, I see, surrounding you which I did not at first think of. It is uncertain yet what disposition has been made by your father, or whom he has appointed as his executor, or as your guardian, nor do we know yet that he has left a will-if not, the -chancellor will appoint for you; in either case, you will probably have to be guided by the ad- vice, or in some measure, at least, you will be under the direction of whomsoever that person may be. My friendship, or my assistance, I see now, is likely to be a source of annoy- ance to you; the feelings of your nearest relatives, you must know, are hostile to me. I do not wish to be in their way, nor to be a trouble on that account to you. I am myself helpless! As your uncle has just told me, I have nothing further to do with the business-it is so. I have indeed your father's papers, and some of his money under lock and key, which I shall be ready to account for when a person shall be authorized to receive-it." "Then you were not really a partner of my father?" "No, that plan has been frustrated by Divine Providence. It was to have been announced on the very day your father was so very ill; the articles of agreement weree drawn up, and everything understood between him and myself; they were to have been signed by-us on that day, as I should then be twenty-one; even the advertisement was written and ready to be carried to the office. I have not a word to say, how- ever. God has done it, and I desire to submit with all hu- mility to His dispensations." "But can you not go on with the business-on your account? You know all about it." "That could not be done without capital, and now, of course, not a dollar can be used by me without the consent of those who are strangers to me, and perhaps enemies." "But surely, no one has any right to say anything now but myself?". "You are very kind; but you will not be able for some years to control anything; you are not of age, and others must manage foryou." Matilda covered her face and seemed much troubled. "I beg of you not to allow yourself to be disturbed on my acocount; I shall find something to do--my greatest anxiet;y / page: 382-383[View Page 382-383] 382 LIKE AND UNLIKE. at present is for you. I wish to be of some assistance, but know not what to do. Every step I should advise would be misconstrued, and would cause you much annoyance firom your friends. I see no other way for you to avoid that, but' by throwing yourself upon them and doing as far as you can what they wish you to do." "I shall be wtretched among them-I know I shall." ' You must trust in God, he will not leave you. You will also, I hope, keep Aunt Grizzle with you wherever you go. She will be a firm friend, and in many things a safe coun- sellor." Matilda looked up at the noble youth who was thus giving her counsel; the expression of his countenance manifested the deepest seriousness--his heart was in agony, for he well knew that when once away, her friends' every effort would be made to prevent his seeing her or having any intercourse whatever. But he had pledged his word " not to make any advances for a year," and although circumstances had occurred which might in the view of many have allowed him to feel that his promise was not binding now, yet he chose to keep his con- science clear, let the result be what it might. He therefore resolved not to manifest any feeling beyond that of readiness to serve her. "You do not mean to withdraw entirely! I shall feel alone indeed, if I cannot have your advice or your aid." "I trust you do not think I have so soon forgotten how much I owe to your dear parents or to yourself; but I can- didly tell you any interference on my part will be only a cause of trouble to you. My advice is, that you go home with your uncle and await the development of affairs. It may be, your father has made arrangements that will enable you to act independently of your relatives. Have you taken charge of his private papers, which he usually keeps in his small desk up here?" "I have not; had I better do so?" "I think you had; they are his letters of friendship and his private diary. I should secure them at once and take them with you in your trunk." "I i11, certainly; his diary ought not to be exposed to the public, nor his private correspondence." "And now I will say good-bye to you." "What do you mean, James?" "I shall not, probably, see you again for a long time. Our f "KE AND UNLIKE. 383 -course together has come to an end. God wills it, and I wish to submit without a murmur." "Will you not call upon me, if I go to my uncle's?" "You will find, as I tell you, that such a step will give you trouble, and, moreover, as your uncle and some of his family feel toward me, I could not, consistently with my own self-respect, obtrude myself upon them. At your request, though, whenever that shall be made, I will see you let what may happen." James held out his hand; she took it, gazed at him a mo- ment, and then burst into tears. Oh, how he wished then to tell her all his heart! He felt his feelings getting the mas- tery, and turning from her, left the room and went to his own apartment, there to prepare forever to leave the place where he had enjoyed so much. CHAPTER XXIII. "MR. BITSTLu, I hope you will not venture near the infected district this morning; they say, now, that no one ought to go below Chambers street." "' I am only going as far as the hospital." "The hospital! you are not going in there, I hope, Mr. Bustle?" am I am. "What do you mean, Mr. Bustle?", "I mean just what I say; I am going to the hospital." "What upon earth have you to do there?" "I am going there, Peggy, to see that young man." "Not that young man of Sterling's?" "Peggy, there is no use of your looking so; my duty calls me, and I shall go. That young man is a member of our Church; he is alone; his friends, both Sterling and his wife, are dead; he is too good a person to be left to die without some member or officer of the Church going to see him; it is a shame that he has been sent there!" "Well, what else could be done? there he was, all alone in the house; -none but two servant women in the house with him, and they frightened to death, though they said they page: 384-385[View Page 384-385] 384: LIKE AND UNLIKE. wouldn't leave him, if they got their death by it; but the commissioners had him removed and sent the servants away."' "I should have thought Mrs. Roff would have had more feeling for one who had risked his life over her brother, than to have let him want a place where he could be tended as he ought to be." "Now, Mr. Bustle, you are very unreasonable; has not Mrs. Roff a large family? is not Sterling's daughter there sick a-bed? and are they not all staying at Mr. Gaines'? You know they are not in their own house." "Yes, I know that; but Miss Gaines, who spoke to me about him, told me-that her father was perfectly willing to have had him brought there, but that Mrs. Roff objected to it. I tell you, Peggy, that woman is not right, depend upon it; there is something wrong about her." "6 But what good can you do, Mr. Bustle, by going there and exposing yourself and all your family to the disorder; it seems to me presumption, a tempting of Providence; you can do him no good, and they say the patients there have good attendance." "I don't know as I can do any good, but I can let him see that he is not quite forgotten; it may comfort him a little to have a Christian friend calling on him, and more than that, I shall tell him that the moment, he is well enough to be moved, he must come here." "Mr. Bustle!" "Yes, Peggy, I say it. Can I? can you? sit down here at home in our large house, with no chick nor child to fill -it, and know that such a fine fellow, who has been delicately brought up, should be obliged to be in the care of public nurses. No, no; I know you better than that; I know you would tend him day or night first." "Oh, Mr. Bustle, I feel dreadfully nervous this morning! Please don't talk about my tending anybody, or doing any- thing! the news about this fever has given me such a shock, I shall never get over. Do, dear Mr. Bustle, think what you do, and not let your feelings run away with your judgment. I do feel sorryfobr the poor young man, but I am dreadfully afraid of the fever. I know one must die when their time comes, but it seems dreadful to die that way, it takes one off so sudden." "Not always, Peggy, not always; sometimes they last a day, sometimes two days." "Oh, dear, well; I hope to be prepared for the worst; "KE AND UNLIKE. 385 but the doctors say that those who are the most afraid are the most likely to be taken ; every little pain in my head makes me tremble all over. You Wi*ll be careful, dear Mr. Bustle! and do be sure he is really getting better, and that the fever is all gone, and that nothing ails him but weakness. You know I am willing to do anything for anybody, but I can- not, you know, I cannot help my nerves; they are dreadfully shattered." "I know that, Peggy ; they are dreadfully out of order; but one thing you may rely on, nervous people never catch any of those diseases." "Do you-believe it, MrA. Bustle?" "I cannot say but it is so, for you know that you are in the habit of visiting a good deal in all sorts of dirty places, but you never catch anything." C)Oh, but that is very different, Mr. Bustle; the widows' complaints are by no means catching; they are mostly rheu- matics, or they have eat too much, or maybe got a bad cold, or are hysterekey, or some such chronic thing or other." "What- would you do should the fever get among them?" "Oh, Mr. Bustle, I am sure I don't know; they must get along as they can. I wish you would not talk so; you are not nervous; nothing can shake you; you are a hearty, strong man, and your mind seems as tough as your body; it is always calm and easy and never disturbed, and you don't know how to feel for a, poor, feeble woman." liMr. Bustle now having finished his preparations, bade good morning to Mrs. Bustle, who looked at him as she was sitting with her hands folded in her lap, with an air border- ing lupon desperation. Mr. Bustle's countenance was as placid as a calm summer evening. James Beatufort, when he parted from IMatilda, went into his room, as has been said, to make preparations for leaving the house. But he was far from well; he had said nothing to any of the filmily, but for the last few hours he felt con- scious that disease was attacking his frame. Thinking, how- ever, that possibly the scenes of excitement through which he had passed might have affected his nervous system, and that a little rest would restore him, he hastily packed up most of lhis articles, and then thlrew himself upon the bed; for some time he listened to the footsteps of Aunt Grizzle in the adjoining room; " no doubt she was preparing for the depar- ture of Matilda and herself." He thought not of it as he might have done under other circumstances; his sensibilities 17 page: 386-387[View Page 386-387] 386 ' ITIE, AND UNLIKE. seemed completely stupefied; he was conscious of indifference to persons or to events; he was like one whose ship had foundered far from land, a part of the wreck still floated him along, but whither he was drifting he could not tell and did not care. He wanted to rest. to lose all sense of the past, the present or the future; he had neither fear nor hope to stimulate him. He heard the steps of those who were about to leave descending the stairs, and the carriage door open and shut, and then it rattled speedily away. .After that, he lay for sometime conscious of increasing pains and restless- ness; he arose, at length, for he felt that he must get away, but his strength was scarcely sufficient to enable him to stand; a dizziness, too, had seized him in the effort to arise; with difficulty he made out to reach the bell-rope; the ser- vants, he knew, had been preparing to depart; they might possibly not have gone. One of them soon entered the room. James was seated by the side of the bed. "Jane, I believe I must have the doctor." "Shall I go for him, Mr. James? Are you indeed sick?" "I am very weak, and in much pain, and very dizzy." "I will go for him, and Sopllie will be with you while I am gone." And the good creature hastened to do her errand. When the doctor came, the symptoms of his disease- were fully developed; but what must be done? The two servants were ready to depart, but would not stir while he was sick, and needed help. The physician felt that it would be expos- ing them to certain danger; they were, as yet, well, and on the point of going into the country; should they be seized with the fever where they then were, who could take care of them? And, moreover, the Health Commissioners had ordered the house to be vacated. He felt that there was no alternative; James must be removed to the hospital. The young mlan was not in the least shocked by the announcement, and was ready at once to yield to the sug- gestion. No time was to be lost; a carriage was imme- diately procured, and ewith the assistance of the physician, he was conveyed to that refuge for the stranger and the out- cast. He was very ill, and for two days the issue appeared to be poised on an even balance between life and death. His rea- son was not in the least impaired; he knew his danger, but he feared not death. God had not forsaken' him, although, for wise reasons, his chastening hand was sore upon him. "KE AND UNLIKE. 387 He felt resigned and happy to be in the hands of Him to whom he had long committed himself and his interests, and to that same loving care he could leave those who had been the objects of his solicitude. When the point of imminent danger was past, and the prospect of life again rose up before him, it had still some brightness left; its true value he had learned as he could not have done by an unbroken path of prosperity. The loss he had sustained in the death of those who took such an interest in his welfare was indeed one which could never in all proba- bility be replaced; but his sickness had taught him that earthly helpers can never be a substitute for God's favor and love; that however brlight our prospects here, one touch of the hand of the Almighty can cause them to vanish like the morning mist; that all pursuits here which end in earthly good are but shadows. The substances are on the other side of time. It was a matter of much surprise to him when Mr. Bustle entered the room where he lay; and when that gentleman came up to him and in a kindly manner asked " how he was?" James smiled and thanked him. "I am very happy to say, sir, that I am much better." "The fever has left you, then?" "Oh, yes, sir; these two days I have been mending." "Can you sit up any?" "I sat up a short time this morning." You will soon be able to leave this place, then." "I hope so, sir; but I fear it will be some time before I shall be able to get home." "In the country, you mean?" "Yes, sir; I thought I should go there as soon as I shall be able to travel, although there are some reasons why I ought, perhaps, to be in the city." James then related to Mr. Bustle the peculiar circumstances in which he was placed in reference to the affairs of Mr. Sterling. Mr. Bustle lis- tened attentively to his story, and then said: "You are right; the responsibility which has thus provi- dentially been thrown upon you, you must keep until proper persons are appointed to relieve you; you did perfectly right to keep the keys in your own hands. I will tell you, now, what I wish to propose to you; it will be some time, perhaps, before you may be able -to journey, and it may not be wise, even then, that you should leave the city; we cannot tell how long this disorder will prevail; it is spreading every page: 388-389[View Page 388-389] 388 TXIF AND UNLIKE. day; the lower part of the town is nearly vacated, and they begin to feel that it is not safe venturing below Chambers street. My residence, you know, is in Beach street; it is at present considered out of all danger ; we have pure air there -as pure as the country. We have a large house and few to occupy it. And as God has so suddenly taken your friends away and. destroyed your home in the city, I should like, if you are willing, to have you come to my house; you shall have a fine, airy room,' and Mrs. Bustle, you will find, I think, a good nurse; she is a good deal used to being round among folks that are ailing."' James put out his hand to Mr. Bustle, but it was very difficult for him to speak; all he could say, was: "Oh, you are very good!" Mr. Bustle saw how the young man was affected, and began to choke up a little himself. Mr. Bustle was by no means a cold-hearted man. "Then I will make arrangements to have you removed just as soon as the doctor thinks it will answer." "It Will put you and your family, my dear sir, to a great deal of trouble." "We don't mind a little trouble; and, to tell you the truth, I can't bear the thought of your being here. I know what you have been used to in that good family, and I k-now 'they would as soon have had -an own son in such a place as you. Though I was not very intimate withMr. Sterling, yet I knew him well enough to know that he was a noble- hearted man." Just then another gentleman entered the ward, and walking up to James, took his hand, extending the other to Mr. Bus- tle; he looked at James, laid, his hand upon his forehead and felt his pulse. "My dear fellow, you are much better." "I am, Mr. Russell, very much!" "Thank God for that," and then again taking Mr. Bustle's hand and shaking it. "I am glad to see you here, Mr. Bus- tle; this poor young fellow has been through some sad scenes, but it is good to let him see that he has not lost all his friends yet." "I hope he' hasn't, sir; I am sure he hasn't. G6d, who has dealt with him, can raise up others. I believe he has put it into my heart to come here this morning, for I felt as if I could not rest until I had- seen him and done something to get him away from here." ' "KE AND UNLIKE. 389 When do you think we can get him,? I have thought of taking him to my house, but we shall be obliged to move away immediately, the fever is creeping so close to us." "I have come on purpose to. see if he was likely to get well, and if so, to take him to my house; we have room enough, you know, and we are so high up town, that it don't seem there can be any danger of our having to -move." "To your house? good! James, what do you say to that?" "I can only say, sir, that it amazes me that such kind friends should-come around me. I am sure I do not d-eserve it, and I fear it will be giving so much trouble." "Don't you mind about the trouble; Mr. Bustle is not a man to do things at random; if he asks you to go -to his house, it is not only because he has a kind heart, but -he also knows that he has accommodations to afford you. God-knows you should be welcome under my roof, if only for my old friend Sterling's sake; but, as I have said, I -know not where to go myself; I must get my family off somewhere to-day- perhaps in the country." Mr. Bustle had left, just then, to speak to the -physician who had entered the room; very soon they came up. "Doctor," said Mr. Russell, " how soon can this young man be removed?" "The sooner the better; that is, he is past all danger, and the sooner he can be away and change the air entirely, the better. He will be able, I think, now, with help, to get into a carriage." Mrs. Bustle was by no means at ease after Mr. Bustle left. She did not approve of his errand. There might possibly be danger; and then the idea of his bringing the young man to their house, for her to tend and watch over, was not at all to her mind. So she sat awhile, and pondered over her trials-but there was little comfort to be obtained in that way. She therefore started rff, not long after Mr. Bustle had left, to call on her friend Mrs. Sterne, whose residence being in the next street, she felt perfectly safe in visiting. Time passed unconsciously in communion with her friend, and it was nearly one o'clock before she again reached her home. Mr. Bustle had that moment come in, and was in some trouble at not finding her within call, and was just or- dering James to run somewhere and look for :her, when she made her appearance. page: 390-391[View Page 390-391] 390 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "Oh, I am so glad you have come! I was just about to send for you." "What is it, Mr. Bustle? Is the young man -dead? You don't feel well yourself, Mr. Bustle. Does your head ache, or what ails you? I know you feel bad." "I have no pain or ache of any kind, Peggy. I am a little tired. I have walked rather fast for me-as I wished to let you know that the young man is coming." "He is living, then." "He is." "And is he over the fever? Is there no danger, Mr. Bustle?" s"None whatever, the doctor says." "The doctor!. Doctors will say anything. Is he much changed? Does he look yellow?" "Somewhat." "When will he be here, Mr. Bustle?" "I am expecting them every minute." "What. do you mean, Mr. Bustle?" I mean just what I say. I presume they are now on the way with him." Mrs. Bustle was wishing to say a great deal,-but there was no time to be lost; she felt that most keenly. So merely saying, "Oh, Mr. Bustle!" she rushed from the room, and gathering all the help she could muster, made haste into her third story, to see how things looked there. It was not often Mrs. Bustle visited either the upper or lower portions of her house. She had so much " out door " work to attend to, that some such trifling matters of domes- tic economy as pertain to kitchen and bed-rooms, were left pretty much to the wisdom and faithfulness of servants. Mr. Bustle could have wished that things might be different; but he was a shrewd man, although not very learned. He had taken Mrs. Bustle for better or worse, and he meant to make the best of his bargain. Mrs. Bustle was utterly confounded by the state of things in her spare room, and Biddy was utterly confounded too. The latter personage, for-special reasons not worth while to mention, had left her own apartment, and without saying anything to the mistress, had quietly taken/ possession of a good sized and well furnished front room. It was, no doubt, a much better room than Biddy had ever occupied before, and, in all probability, she enjoyed the luxury exceedingly. But Biddy's ideas of order and neatness were not by any means in advance of her race; and when Mrs. Bustle first I IIIYUHl - "KE AND UNLIKE. 391 entered the apartment, and looked round upon the various articles that were bestowed upon the chairs, and the tables, and the bed-posts, and the closet doors, and even upon the carpet, she stood for a moment, and gazed in utter aston- ishment, while Biddy ran. round in a very active manner, gathering beneath her arms the scattered treasures belong- ing to her, and piling them in a heap upon her bed. Biddy's bed was not much of an affair, and it made a sad figure upon the once nice carpet; she no doubt thought there were ' beds enough to make, without going through that ceremony with her own--and, as 'it would be tumbled again every night, a very useless labor; so the thing had taken care of itself, there is no telling how long. Mrs. Bustle knew what many ladies do not seem to appre- hend-' that there is a time to abstain from saying any- thing ;" and angry as Mrs. Bustle was, she knew that to be- gin a controversy just then, would probably result in Biddy's packing up her duds and taking her leave; and would by no Ineans hasten the preparations for the sick man., She there- fore said nothing-that is, nothing likely to give offence. She merely directed "that things should be cleared up at once, and brooms and dust brushes be put in requisition without delay." It was a very busy scene, and in the midst of it Mr. Bustle made his appearance at the door. "Oh, dear!" The words and the voice startled Mrs. Bustle very much. "I thought, my dear," said Mr. Bustle, "this was your spare room, and always in readiness." "It will be ready in a minute, Mr. Bustle. Has he come?" "Not yet; they will be here with him very soon; but will you step here, Mrs. Bustle? I want to speak with you." Mrs. Bustle obeyed the summons, following Mr. Bustle into the entry until they were far enough from the ears of Biddy & Co. "I want to say a word to you, Peggy, about Russell and his family." "Russell and his family! .What of them?" "They have got to move somewhere this very day, and I have been thinking, as they are so troubled to find a place, why we cannot take them in here? It will only be for a few days." "Mr, Bustle!"And Mrs. Bustle seated herself upon the page: 392-393[View Page 392-393] 6V. bULIKE AND UNLIKE. stairs, which led to the attic. "Mr. Bustle, are you getting crazy? or what possesses you to think of such a thing? Here I am, slaving myself to get a room ready for a sick man from the hospital, and afraid to let the girls know what it is for; and expect nothing else but when they see his yel- low face they will be frightened to death and leave the house. And now you come and ask me to take a whole family upon my hanlds. Do-don't, dear Mr. Bustle, do any such thing, if you wish me to keep my senses." "Oh, well, Peggy, you need not be so alarmed; I have not said anything to Russell yet. I thought I would speak to you first; and I didn't know but you would think well of it, as you like to be doing good." "Not in that way, Mr. Bustle. There! a carriage has stopped. Oh dear!" And Mrs. Bustle hastened back into the bed-room, and Mr. Bustle walked down stairs. CHAPTER XXIV. IMATILDA was sustained through the trying scenes of the loss of parents and home, in a manner which no one could have anticipated who knew how stroncr were the ties which bound her to both. The blow was so sudden and so terrible that no doubt for a while her sensibilities were benumbed; and the necessity which was forced upon her to exercise her own judgment in taking measures for immediate removal, turned her thoughts, for the time, from dwelling on the severity of the stroke. But so soon as she entered her new home, a reaction took place, and her physical strength seemed completely pros- trate. For some days she was confined to her room, and most of the time to her bed. Aunt Grizzle had accompanied her-for on no other conditions could she have been induced to throw herself upon the care of her relatives. SIr. Roff did not at the time dare to oppose Matilda's wishes; he was too anxious to get her under his own roof, and away from the influence of James Beaufort; but Aunt Grizzle was an ad- dition which was by no means desired by either head of ) , JXTKE AND -UNLIKE. 393 the family, or some :of its members. And the tenacity with which Matilda clung to this old friend, keeping her con- stantly in her'room, and committing lierself to be taken care of just in the way Aunt Grizzle thought best, was annoying to those who wished to have no interierence with their com- plete control. Auht Grizzle was therefore looked upon with an evil eye, and it was decided by both Mr. Roff and .his wife, and some of their children, that she must be "got rid of;" and an opportunity was soon afforded to accomplish their design. Mrs. Susan Somerindyke was again -at her father's ihome, and at present dependent upon him as before her marriage. She had left her husband, and hler establishment in Broad- way had been broken up. Nothing could be obtained from him for her support without a process at law, and Mi. Roff preferred, for the present at least, to provide for his daughter rather than go through the ordeal of a lawsuit. She was therefore at home, and by no means humbled by the terrible mistake she had made. In fact, she took no blame to herself; not hesitating to charge her mother " with being willing to risk her happiness if she could only have the pleasure of hearing it said that her daughter had mar- ried a rich man." It may have been the truth, but not very conforting to a parent's heart to be thus told of it. Mrs. Susan had never, in formner years, taken much notice of Matilda. "She was but a child," no doubt Mrs. Susan thought, and not of any account. Now, however, a change has taken place, either in her own mind or in the age or circumstances of her cousin, which has induced Mrs. Somer- indyke to be very attentive, and rather to prefer being around the bed or in the room where Matilda was confined than to have any one else there. It was not agr'eeable to Matilda, for the reason that her cousin could not sympathize with her feelings on any one subject; nor was there any topic in common between them upon which they could con- verse; and yet Mrs. Susan, being a great talker, would find something to bring out, if not to interest, at least to prevent that repose which Matilda needed. Aunt Grizzle had her own views about the case, and as she felt competent to do all that was necessary for Matilda, was resolved to put a stop to company which she felt sure was an annoyance. It was a delicate matter to touch upon, but she meant to be very careful. Matilda had been wakeful and restless through the night, 17* page: 394-395[View Page 394-395] /i 394 LTTwC AND UNLIKE. and Aunt Grizzle felt very sure c" that the incessant stream of talk which Mrs. Susan had poured out the last evening was the cause," and without any hesitation she resolved to say a word to Mrs. Roff on the subject. She therefore called that lady aside, and in as pleasant a manner as possible, mentioned '" that Matilda had not slept well that night, and she feared too much talking in the even- ing had caused it." Mrs. Roff at once assumed a very stern manner. "Why did you talk so much to her, then?" "It was not my talking to Miss Matilda, Mrs. Roff, that disturbed her. Mrs. Somerindyke was in the room until quite late." "I don't believe a word of it. Did Matilda tell you that her cousin disturbed her? or did she send you with such a message to me?" "She did not, Mrs. Roff; but knowing her as I do, and being anxious that the poor child should have rest" Mrs. Susan now entered the room, and Mrs. Roff at once broke in upon Grizzle's explanations. ! "A pretty pass things have come to, Susan! It seems we disturb Matilda, and we are requested, I suppose, not to enter her room." "No, no, Mrs. Roff; I have not said so." "Do, ma! Why do you mind what such a person says? I know well enough Matilda never sent any such message. I will go at once and ask her." And so saying, Mrs. Somer- indyke left the room. "Mrs. Roff," said Grizzle-she was on the point of break- ing into tears, but she could summon resolution when hard pressed, so the tears were restrained and she spoke with quite a steady voice, although greatly excited-"I am sur- prised that the simple statement I made should have been thus received. You must know that I feel responsibility for that poor dear child" "Yes, I know you do; and a great deal more than is necessary; but you may as well learn it first as last, that your care for her is not thought by any means of conse- quence. I have the responsibility of her now, and will see to it that she has all proper attention. I think your services can be very well dispensed with; and situated as we now are, it is really not convenient to have you remain with us. You know, at present, we are only visitors ourselves." Grizzle was taken by surprise. She did not for the moment T,TR, AND UNLIKE. 395 know what reply to make. Independent in her cil'cum- stances for one with her moderate wants, and ability to be helpful, the idea of being there on sufferance, or of staying under a roof where she was not welcome, aroused the illde- pendent. spirit of a New England woman. She looked steadily at Mrs. Roff a moment, and then said: ' I was aware of that, Mrs. Roff, when I came here. I knew well that my services or my presence were by no means desired; but I came at the urgent request of Matilda, and very much against my own' inclinations. Your family shall not be troubled by my presence an hour longer." So saying, Aunt Grizzle left the room, passing, on her way out, Mrs. Somerindyke, who looked flushed and out of humor. "You are not getting up, my dear!" "I think I had better, Aunt Grizzle. I feel as well up, and I find my lying here is like to make trouble." "You need have no disturbance on my account, my dear. I am going away." Matilda looked at her with a countenance of deep distress. "For what cause, Aunt Grizzle?" "For none that you are answerable for; but I feel that it will be much better for you. I do not wish to tell you the whole; but you know I would not leave you without a good reason. It will no doubt be better on the whole that you should remain here; but if I should stay with you, it would give occasion for jealous feelings, and there would be constant jarringrs and contentions; they can have no cause for them, so far as you are concerned, when I am away." "Oh, Aunt Grizzle, I lever thought it would come to this! Why should I -be thus left by all those on, whom I had reason to look witl. confidence? James has acted strangely, taking his leave of me in so cold a manner, when he had been treated by my parents as a son, and by me as a brother! And now, you, too, Aunt Grizzle!", "Matilda, dear Matilda, do not weep so, you will break my heart. Oh, I could weep with you, if it would do any good; but I must not give way to my feelings now. I want to say a few things to you, and I may never have another opportunity. In the first place, I think you have misinter- preted the feelings and the conduct of James at the time you separated." "But why has he not once called upon me?" "Matilda, I have not told you, because I feared it might page: 396-397[View Page 396-397] Ii 8396 LIKE AND UNLIKE. injure you to know it-James has been at the point of death." Matilda clasped her hands, and fixed upon her old friend a look of anguish. Yes, he has been on the borders of the grave." "With the fever?" "Yes, the yellow fever." "And he took it tending my dear father! Where is he, Aunt Grizzle? I must see him-I must see him, if I die for it!" "He is at the hospital." "At the hospital! Oh, Aunt Grizzle! have my dear parents left no friends behind them, that James should have been sent there? Does my aunt know this?" "She does, my dear; but you must not think hard of her for this. The fact is, it is not thought proper to remove one sick with this disease to a private family, or to a neigh- borhood where the infection has not reached. He is bet- ter now, therefore it need not distress you. I felt bad enough, I assure you, when I heard it, but could do nothing." "Has my aunt, or my uncle, or Junius, or any of them, been to see him?" ' My dear, you could not expect they would do that, when you know they were afraid- to come near your parents even; I would not think hard of them on that account. You know there is a dreadful fear of the disease, and when people get into a panic, they hardly think of anything- but taking care of themselves." "Aunt Grizzle, are you afraid to go to the hospital with - me?" "I am not afraid-to go anywhere with you, my dear; but are you not too unwell?" "I can order a- carriage and ride there, you know." "But what will your aunt say? I am afriaid, my dear, any such attempt, on your part, will raise a dreadful storm in the family!" "I cannot help that, Aunt Grizzle; if my friends have not courage to run a slight risk for the sake of one who spent day. and night around the sick and dying bed of my parents, I will let them see that I have." So saying, Matilda pulled the bell-rope. " What do you want, my dear?" "I want the servant, in order to send for a carriage." T;TE AND UNLIKE. 397 Poor Aunt Grizzle was in a sad dilemma. She knew more of the feelings of the family toward James than did Matilda, and feared some terrible outhreak would take place. Just then, however, Miss Gaines came in. She had been as attentive as she dared to be, for it was very manifest to her, that the members of the family were jealous of any inter- ference with their protege. Matilda, however, had taken a fancy to the young lady. A great change was very evident in Miss Marianne; her manners were staid and ladylike, and her conversation agreeable, for she -loved now to converse about such subjects as were most pleasing to Matilda. In the course of every day she would call into her room, and reading a few verses in the Bible, make them topics of con- versation. She seemed somewhat surprised to see her friend up, and about to put on her garments for going abroad. "Not going out, dear!" "I believe I must venture it. I feel as if a ride would not injure me." "Going just for a ride, then? I am very glad you feel well enough." "I fear she is not well enough, Miss Gaines," said Aunt Grizzle; "l but she has just heard about James, and thinks she must go and see him; but I am dreadfully afraid her aunt will be angry to have her go. And then to go to the hospital, too-! You know it is such a place to go to, and for a young lady!" Miss Marianne seemed much confused, and she blushed deeply as she said: "Mr. Beaufort is not at the hospital!" "Where is he, then?" eagerly inquired Matilda. "I presume he is now at Mr. Bustle's; he is much better, and was removed there yesterday. When Mr. Bustle heard he was at the hospital, he at once went to see him, and find- ing he was well enough to be removed, made arrangements to have him taken to his own house." "Oh, how good that is!" And Matilda, not able to con- trol her feelings, sat down and covered her face. Miss Gaines again colored deeply for a moment, and then a deadly pallor took its place. She sat down, and for a short time not a word was said. . "Do you still wish the carriage, Miss Matilda? I hear one of the servants coming up." "I should very much like to see James; it would be no page: 398-399[View Page 398-399] 398 LIKE AiD UNLIKE. more than civility for me to call there--do you not think so, Marianne?" "Certainly-certainly, if you wish to." "And if Aunt Grizzle goes with me too? Yes, please tell the servant I should like a carriage." Very reluctantly Aunt Grizzle gave the order, and then returned to assist Matilda in getting ready for her excursion. Her place, however, was supplied by Miss Gaines, while the faithful attendant left the room in order to array herself. The two young ladies had but few words together; each seemed to be absorbed in her own thoughts, Matilda merely expressing occasionally her kind feelings toward Mr. and Mrs. Bustle, for their generous conduct. "Why, iatildatilda ilda! where are you going? Are you crazy?" exclaimed her aunt and cousins, as she entered the room where they were sitting. "I feel much better, Aunt R-off, and have ordered a car- riage for a short ride, as far as Mr. Bustle's." "Mr. Bustle's? What can possess you, Matilda, to think of going there?" "I understand James is there, and I feel as if I ought to see him. Did you know, aunt, he has been very ill?" Mrs. Roff was evidently much confused by this question, and for the moment, it quelled some other feelings that were ready to burst forth in violence. It was a new phase in her domestic economy to have a member of her family order a carriage without first referring to her. It manifested a spirit of independence on the part of her young charge which did not please-her. But the subject of young Beaufbrt's sickness - was one that troubled her conscience somewhat, as no kind of notice had been taken of him by any of her family, nor had she let Matilda know that any of them were informed of his circumstances. To hear that he was at Mr. Bustle's startled her. Mrs. Roff hesitated and blundered somewhat in making a reply, but finally let out the fact that she knew of his sickness. "But how came he at Mr. Bustle's, and who told you of it, Matilda? . "Miss Gaines has just mentioned it to me as I was about going to-the hospital, where I heard he was." "To the hospital! Matilda, you certainly are not in your right; mind. A young girl like you think of going to the hospital, and to see a strange young man! I am, indeed, surprised! Your uncle never would have allowed that, :4 "KE AND UNLIKE. 399 depend upon it. And -for you now to go even to Mr. Bustle's, to see a sick young man, what will they think of it? I feel as if I could never consent to it, and I know your uncle will be very angry; you must feel, Matilda, that we are the only proper persons to direct you now; you are thrown upon our care, and we will do everything in our power for you; but you must do as we say, or what will become of you? So now put away all thoughts of such a thing, and sit down and calm yourself; you are very nervous." Matilda did, indeed, look as if she needed to be calmed and comforted, for her face was highly flushed, and her beau- tiful eyelids were wet with the tears that had started, in spite of all her efforts to restrain them. She felt, however, that she must speak-the idea that she was to be under restraint from those beneath whose roof she had only come at their own urgent request, and as she intended merely as a temporary refuge, was new, and not very agreeable to her, accustomed as she had always been, to the mild and loving guidance of her parents. She, however, did not desire just then to touch upon that matter, although it affected her very unplea- santly. ' James is by no means a stranger, aunt. , He seems more to me like a brother-he has always been so kind and atten- tive, and we have lived so long together; but aside from that, I feel that there is due firom me some acknowledgment that his care and attention to both my parents during their last illness, is appreciated by me; you know, too, aunt, that he risked his life in doing what he could for them." "Yes, that is true, Matilda; but he had been well paid for that beforehand, and no doubt he had his motives-he had his own ends in view." "Oh, Aunt Roff, that is not quite generous! You do not know him, or you would not speak so; he is above any sordid views; at any rate, his care of my parents can never be for- gotten by me! I should feel I was unworthy to be called their daughter, did I willingly manifest indifference to one they thought so much of, and who proved faithful to them to the last." "And you know, also, that Mrs. Bustle and your mothler were by no means on friendly terms-they did not at all feel pleasantly toward each other." ' I know well, Aunt Roff, that my mother never harbored unkind or unpleasant feelings toward any one, and I have heard her rather commend Mrs. Bustle for her public spirit; page: 400-401[View Page 400-401] 400 TITK AND INLTTKI and I know my father often spoke in high terms of Mr. Bustle, as a kind-hearted, honorable man; and surely this act of theirs, in taking James to their home, shows that they certainly harbored no ill feelings." "I presume they do not identify James Beaufort with your family." "I must do so, aunt, I cannot do otherwise." "Well, Matilda, you cannot go with my consent. I can- not see my brother's child do an act that is so unbecoming. I cannot consent to your going; so your better way is at once to lay aside all thoughts of the matter." Just then the door opened, and Mr. Roff entered; he looked round on the members of the family a moment, and perceived that there was something unpleasant going on. ' What is the matter?" he said, looking rather sternly at his wife, and then for the first noticing Matilda. "Matilda! where are you going? Ithought you were too unwell to leave your room?" Matilda had already begun to fear her uncle; his austere, domineering manner, affected her much more than it did his wife and children, they having in some measure become har- dened to it; :to her, it was something new. She knew well, indeed, what he had always been, but his peculiar manner had never troubled her, she being so far removed from its power; now it affected her, because she had no refuge from it. As the tones of his voice were quite stern, a shock passed through her firame; for a moment, resentment was uppermost in her mind, but only for a moment, and then an indefinable dread came over her. She could not abide contention; she answered mildly: "I was designing, uncle, to take a short ride." "Tell your uncle the whole, Matilda-tell him, why do you not, where you were going? Mr. Roff fixed his stern look upon her, expecting her reply; her whole firame was in a tremor. She could not speak, but burot into tears. Mr. Roff then turned to his wife' "What does all this mean? Why is it, if you do not ap- prove of her going, you could not have told her so at once?" "I have told her so, but she seems to feel that I am not the one-to direct her." "Who is to direct her, then?"This was spoken in a very loud and angry tone. "I suppose she thinks she is to direct herself; what can I do if she will not hear to me?" T,F, AND, UNLIKE. 401 "Hear to you! She must hear-to you. She has no one else to advise or to direct her-no one else has any right to do so. I cannot have this confusion in my family. She is now placed providentially under our' care. And I wish you to understand, Matilda, that I do not intend to interfere with your aunt's counsels. She is your father's sister, and the only proper person to whom you can go for advice. And I shall feel very sorry indeed to hear that you are unwilling to obey her!'9 The poor girl but half comprehended what her uncle said; the voice was so unnecessarily loud and harsh, that it struck upon her gentle nature like a storm of hail upon the flowers. She arose, and whispering something to her aunt, left the room. ' Where is she going?" "Sh!e is going nowhere, now, but to her room. She was, though, if you had not come in, fully set to go and see that young fellow Beaufort. She says he is at Mr. Bustle's. I 'think it the strangest thing in the world how it has come about that Bustle and his wife have taken him to their house! It is going to give us a great -deal of trouble, and I shall tell Peggy so. That fellow has got round Matilda, and I see she ' is possessed after him." "She must not be allowed to go there, and you must see to it." ' How can I hinder her? She is just as set as ever her father was." "Tell her I forbid it." "Well, that may do some good. I see she is dreadfully afraid of you." "We shall not, however, be troubled about that matter after, to-day. Gaines thinks we had better go up the river at once ; so we shall start to-morrow. All you- have to do is to be determined in your government over Matilda, and all will go well enough." Miss Gaines met Matilda as she was going up to her room, and seeing she was in trouble,- put, her arm about her, and went up with her, saying nothing until they were alone. "You have concluded not to go out, dear?" "My friends have concluded for me. I see I must yield to their will unless I enter into contention, and I cannot do that." 'Is there anything I can do for you? any message that you wish to send to Mr. Beaufort that I could give?" page: 402-403[View Page 402-403] 402 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "Oh, thank you; I have no message' in particular to send -nothing in particular; but it seems to me right that one who has been so long a member of our family, and who was so faithful in attention to my parents in their last. sickness, ought to receive some token from me that he is thought of, although I might possibly not be able to do anything for his comfort under present circumstances." "I thought I should go up there before we left town. I suppose you know we are to leave to-morrow." "Where do you go?" "To our place in the country; and I am so rejoiced that you are going, too." "I?" "Why, your uncle and aunt and all the family are going; the fever is coming so near that it is not considered safe to stay. here, and papa has offered your uncle the use of his house in the country, and then you and I can have delightful rambles, and you know Mr. Beaufort's mother and sisters live near, and they are such lovely people!" Matilda looked at her young friend with a countenance, that betrayed unusual emotion; her thoughts had all at once taken a strange turn. It was entirely new to her that Miss Gaines thought so highly of the family of Beauforts. And the fact that the young lady appeared to know all about James, was somewhat startling to her; and yet, there was a frankness of manner and a manifestation of kindness toward herself that, somehow, prevented any feeling that might very naturally have arisen. She merely replied: "Then you know them?" "Oh, certainly; and I know when you come to see them and know them, you will love them vey much." I feel as if I knew them well already; mny mother has told me so much about therm, and, in fact, some letters have passed between Miss Mary and myself.^" "Indeed!" and now it was the turn of Miss Marianne to manifest emotion; the color came quickly to her face, and for a few moments nothing was said by either; at length, Matilda broke the silence; the two young ladies were sitting near to each other-Matilda laid her hand upon that of Miss Gaines; it was at once grasped warmly. "Dear Marianne, I do so want a friend; one to whom I can unburden my mind-inr whom I can confide." "That is just my own want, dear Matilda, and I have long thought how happy I should be in your friendship." "TfKT' AND UNLIKE. 403 "Have you? I am so glad to hear you say so. I feel alone! my relatives, I am well convinced, are not my friends, and I anticipate much trouble in my present situation." "It is not improbable that you may; but sometimes we find things turn out better than our fears. You are now, however, under your uncle; that is, he has been appointed administrator of your father's estate, and, I suppose, will be your guardian, too; that is, unless it should be ascertained that your father has left a will. Papa says that every inquiry has been made of those most likely to know some- thing of the matter, but no will has been found. The lawyer he lhas always employed, and who is intimate with your uncle, seems very positive that there is no will, for he had not long since spoken to your father about it, but he imme- diately turned to' some other subject, and did not appear willing to talk about it." "My uncle, then, you think, has already got the power in his hands?" "I presume he has." Matilda again relapsed into a thoughtful mood, and it was some time before anything was said by either. "It is a very hard case!"Matilda said, but in a low voice, and as though merely letting out some of the thoughts which troubled her. "You mean your own situation?" "I was not thinking of myself; I was thinking of James. Do you know that he was to have been my father's partner?" "I did not." "He was of age the very day my father died; the writings had been drawn, and were to have been signed on that day; and now, he- has not only lost that prospect, but he has lost his situation ; he is cast off again upon the world, and he has been the sole support of his mother and sisters. I don't see what they are to do! I think my uncle might have con- sidered his circumstances, and at least have kept him in his situation as an assistant in winding up my father's affairs!" "You think a great deal of him, do you not, Matilda?" Matilda looked at Miss Gaines a moment; the question somewhat startled her. "It is natural that I should ; would not you, dear, under the same circumstances? would you not feel sorry for him?" "Oh, yes, no doubt; but I meant more than that when I put the question to you. You say, dear Matilda, that you wish a friend; one in whom you can confide. Why, page: 404-405[View Page 404-405] I {'III 404 LIKE ND UN-LIEE. then, may there not -be mutual confidence. I am ready to trust every secret of my heart to you. You love James, do you not?" "I do not know that I have ever analyzed my feelings in reference to James, and, as he has never manifested any feelings:toward me but that of gentlemanly, respectful kind. ness, I have no reason to suppose he has any regard for me beyond that of friendship." "Has he never told you that he was deeply interested in you?" "Never." "But you love him." "In a certain sense, I do. I feel deeply concerned for his welfare. I would sacrifice my own comfort for his advan- -tage." The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs.. Roff. She came to announce to Matilda the fact that they were going into the country, and the necessity of commenc- ing immediately to make preparations for their departure. CHAPTER XXV. MRS. BUSTLE was somewhat proud of being thought a good nurse, and she was really entitled to the credit of such an accomplishment. And James Beaufort had good reason to feel that he had fallen into excellent hands. A, few days after his removal to the house of Mr. Bustle, he was able to leave his room, and to accept the invitation of Mrs. Bustle to a seat with them in the parlor. Whether Mrs. Bustle did indeed look upon the world and human life in general as " vanity and vexation of spirit," we cannot know for a certainty, but the expression was often upon her lips, and it was her -favorite method of consoling both those who had met with great reverses of fortune, or those who were drawing, near to the end of their race. To her mind, it seemed that some consolation might be derived by those who had suffered the-loss of this world's goods, or from whom the world itself was slipping away, from the "KE: AND UNLIKE. 405 thought that the whole concern was of a piece, and not worth fretting about. And therefore, when James Beaufort had taken the very easy seat which Mrs. Bustle had provided for him, and had expressed as far as he was able his sense of Mrs. Bustle's kindness, she felt that it was no more than right for her to say something by way of sympathy, and condolence, in reference to the severe trials he had passed through. "You have been sorely afflicted, Mr. Beaufort, and no doubt you are able to say with Solomon, ' All is vanity and vexation of spirit.' " Perhaps James did not clearly comprehend Mrs. Bustle's words, for he looked at her a moment without making a reply. Supposing he did not take her meaning,' Mrs. Bustle con- tinued : "4 The loss of your friends was a great thing. I hear that you was to have been taken into' business with Mr. Sterling; it would have been a great chance for a young man, and it must be a great disappointment to you! that makes me say, that you have seen how true it is, as Solomon says, 'all is vanity and vexation of spirit.'" "As to that, Mrs. Bustle, I must say I have had very few thoughts-indeed, I had but little time to think of myself; my mind was- immediately taken up in attending to some im- portant duties that devolved upon me; and by the time I had arran ged them, I was taken with the fever; and a touch of such serious sickness, you know, will very. soon obliterate any thoughts about such a matter as worldly gain or loss." "Yes, no doubt--the fear of death! Oh-h-h!" And Mrs. Bustle gave a shake to her whole frame, either because she could not help it, or by way of illustrating her idea of death as the King of Terrors.. "I cannot say that I was at all troubled on that account, Mrs.- Bustle." "Death is the King of Terrors! We all shrink front it!" "Perhaps in full health, and with a weak, nervous temper- ament, a Christian may feel a shrinking when he looks into an open grave; but really there is nothing in that that ought to give him any alarm.," "Oh, dear, how can you say so?' "Death cannot separate us from the love of Christ." Mrs. Bustle made no reply. "Our life is hid with Christ in God; ' whether we live, we page: 406-407[View Page 406-407] 406 LIKE AND UNLIKE. fi live unto Him--and whether we die, we die unto Him.' Whether We- live, therefore, or die, we are .His. Is not that enough? What more can we ask? Is it not sufficient secu- rity for us that we are Nris " - Mrs. Bustle heaved a long, deep sigh. "Yes, if we could only be sure -of that." "His promise is sure-' Because I live, ye shall live also.' "Yes-but-you know one cannot be so sure; the best people are troubled with doubts. We are poor, weak, sinful creatures." "Surely we are; and therefore it is such a precious thing to have one to trust in who is strong and perfectly holy." "But how can we know that we truly belong to Him?" Jamnes seemed somewhat surprised at this question, for he knew that Mrs. Bustle was thought to be an experienced Christian. "Does He not give us a test? 'He that keepeth my com- mandments, he it is that loveth me ;' and ' He that loveth me shall be loved of my Father, and we will come unto him and make our abode with hiln." "The heart is dreadfully deceitful. -We may think we love Him when we don't." "Why, Mrs. Bustle, you never have ally doubt as to your regard for an earthly friend; you have no doubt as to your true affection for your husband; you do not have to reason with yourself to find out the true nature of your feelings toward him. I have a dear mother and sisters-I know that I love them; and in the same way I know that I love my Saviour. , His name is dear to me; His precepts I delight to obey; His kingdom I love too, I rejoice in its prosperity; His people I love, I know I do. And now if he has given me a heart to love Him, why should I doubt that He loves me, sinful as I am? and that ' He will keep that which I have committed to Him against that day."' Mrs. Bustle began to choke up. There was an earnestness as well-as tenderness in the voice of the young man, and she could plainly see the tear gathering in his eye and his lips trembling with the emotion that warmed his heart. She turned her eye away from him and looked down a moment. Mris. Bustle had not for a long while heard preaching that so touched her heart; her voice trembled somewhat as she replied: "Why is it, then, that I hear so many Christians always telling of their doubts? Is it not presumptuous for any one IKE AND UNLIKE. 407 to be confident? Is it not safer to be humble and distrustful of our feelings?" "You know, Mrs. Bustle, I have not the experience that you have; it is but six years since I first made a consecration of myself to Christ. You have no doubt been his follower a long while, and know much more about the views and feel- ings of Christians than I do. I only say what I feel myself. I was not aware of the fact you mention-that Christians do live in such a doubtful state of mind. Can you account for it?" "I don't know; I suppose they feel that they are so full of sin, and so liable to fall into sin; and have so many besetting sins;, and are so led away at times by the world, and one thing and another, that they are afraid to speak confidently or to feel sure about their state." "But may it not be that such Christians try/to make a compromise between their duty to their Saviour and such things as are not agreeable to Him? 'Do you think that they 'seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness,' that whatever they do, ' they do all for the glory of God?' " "I cannot say I am sdre-I don't know. There is some- thing they do, or something they don't do, I suppose." "The Apostles never seem to have been troubled with doubts. Paul says,' I know in whom I have believed ;' and John and Peter express the same confident hope." "Yes, I know; but the Apostles were different. They could work miracles, you know." "Yes, ma'm; but they did not depend upon those extra- ordinary gifts as any ground of hope. You know Paul says, if he had faith so that he could remove mountains, andhad not,true love, 'he would be only as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.' He seems to have rested solely on Christ for pardon and for eternal life. He calls himself ' the chief of sinners,' and his rejoicing is that ' Christ died for such.' He says a great deal about ' rejoicing in the Lord,' 'rejoicing in hope.'" "Well, I don't know sometimes whether I am a Christian at all. I get dreadfully confused in my mind. Some books I read make me think one way, and some make me think an- other way. Some preachers say just what you have been saying, and then others tell us it is better to be doubtful of ourselves. I get dreadfully confused-. I wish I was better than I am, but I don't know as I ever shall be." "I believe, Mrs. Bustle, the Scriptures are our safest page: 408-409[View Page 408-409] 1' 408 . LIKE AND UNLIKE. guide-at least, I feel more confidence in them than in any other source, and I think they teach us to look away from ourselves-to look to Christ not only for eternal life, but for strength to keep his commandments; in Him is all fullness, and he is ready to impart it to us." Mrs. Bustle was again silent for a few moments before she asked: "And you say, when you was so ill you had no fear of death?" "I was not conscious of any fear." "Did you long to depart?" ' I cannot say t/hat, Mrs. Bustle. Life is very precious to me. I have dear ones dependent upon my exertions, and how they. are to subsist without my exertions I cannot see! But I felt willing that God should do with me according to his own purpose. I felt assured he could provide for those who had hitherto lived upon my care, and therefore was not troubled. But as to the fear of going into the eternal world, I had none. And why should I? I felt well assured I had years ago given myself to the Lord, and since then I daily renewed that consecration. With all my shortcomings and sinfulness, I felt very sure that my heart was on the side of the Lord, and that my earnest desire in all things was to ap- prove myself to him." "And you don't feel at all discouraged or down-hearted on account of this sudden change in -your prospects?" "I cannot say that I am. It has been brought about by the clear hand of God. If I had neglected my duty, and lost my situation, and my fair prospects in consequence, I might then have felt very sad; but I feel now as if I was in the hand of my Heavenly Father. He has seen best to disap- point my expectations. He has brought me, too, in all ap- pearance, near the grave; and He has raised me up from the gates of death, and He can do all for me that he sees best; and I feel as confident of lis care-and his aid in my temporal laffairs as I. do in regard to my spiritual condition. ' The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof.' Is not the very fact, Mrs. Bustle, of my being under your hospitable roof and a recipient of the kind attentions of a mother in Israel " "'Oh, don't talk so! don't!" .And Mrs. Bustle's 'heart began to melt. The tears had fairly started; but James continued: "No doubt God put it into the heart of your kind husband "KE AND UNLIKE. 409 to insist upon bringing me here, and the same principle has caused you, Mrs. Bustle, to mete out to me a mother's tender care. A few' days since you were almost a stranger to me, and now I feel that you have laid me under obligations for my whole life." } "Oh, don't! don't!" Mrs. Bustle felt conscience stricken; she knew well what motives had actuated her. She had received him with great reluctance; and all her attention had been bestowed, not by any means for the cause he had mentioned, but rather from the fear that she might not be thought hospitable, or be charged with neglect of one thrown upon her care. To hear herself praised por '" maternal tenderness " and "Christian benevolence" was a little more than Mrs. Bustle knew was her due. As James saw that she was much excited by his remarks, and not wishing to disturb her " tender, sensitive heart," he endeavored to divert the conversation by re- marking: "You mentioned, Mrs. Bustle, the expression of Solomon at the conclusion of his experiment of this world--' that all was vanity and vexation of spirit.' " "Yes, I did; and never was anything truer. It is ' van- ity and vexation of spirit.' It is a world full of trouble and sorrowf.1 '"And yet do you not think there is more enjoyment than- sorrow, after all? Life is a great blessing, even with its re- verses and disappointments-so it seems to me." "Solomon did not think so, and surely he was the wisest man that ever lived.", "Bt did not Sololnon make a sad mistake as to the true source of happiness?" Mrs. Bustle looked at the young man in surprise. Surely he was not going to question the wisdom of a Bible worthy! "Solomon! /Hie make a mistake! I don't know about that." '"It seems, from the record given of him, that he expected to find happiness in wealth, and splendor, and sensual gratifications; he does not seem to have had that sense of God's favor and love which his father David had. David seems to have looked to God as the only source of good; his heart was constantly turning there, and his mouth was often filled with praise. 'The heavens and the earth.' too, were themes for praises and rejoicing with him. Solomon, no doubt, was a great philosopher, and as a philosopher he studied 18 page: 410-411[View Page 410-411] 2i;il 410 LIKE AND UNLIKE. the works of God, but David looked at them with an eye of filial love and reverence. ' The heavens in all their glories,' and 'the earth in all its beauty,' spoke to his heart of God's power, and wisdom, and paternal care, and filled him witli ecstatic joy. Solomon pursued a course which I think any of us could now very surely foretell would end in disappoint- ment. It seems to me, Mrs. Bustle, that there is a great deal to enjoy in this world, and that life, even here, is a great blessing." "You are young yet. I know young folks always think so; it all looks very bright and pretty to them; but as they go on, one thing comes up after another-one disappoint- ment after another--property flies away, fiends die, sick- ness and pain come over them, and then at the last death comes, and where are they?" "That is one side of the picture, no doubt, Mrs. Bustle; but there is another side to it. ' IMany days, perhaps years, of health and strength; a beautiful world full of the tokens of God's power and goodness; social affections, rich in all that the heart craves ; communion with our Heavenly Father; a benevolent heart going out in kind feelings and acts; a con- sciousness of God's care and love.' Now take your own case, Mrs. Bustle." "Oh, don't speak of me!" "Why not, my dear madam? Not for the purpose of taking praise to yourself, for all the Christian's good deeds are the firuit alone of divine grace; and to that, I have no doubt, you wish to ascribe all the glory. But just for a mo- ment consider your own case. You are blessed with an abundance of this world's goods; you have a benevolent disposition, and are enabled to indulge it. Do you not find 'constant enjoyment in your labors of love among the poor?" "They are dreadfully ungrateful." "That may be; but your kind heart has its own satisfac- tion in letting out its sympathies; you do-it because you love to do good, and to communicate; and, above all, you do it for God. And I am very sure you must enjoy great happi- ness, irrespective of all that the recipients of your bounty may do or feel. You have a happy home, a kind husband; your daily faithfulness and care sheds peace a nd comfort about his dwelling; you have sweet communion together, and as it seems to me, you must be ,constantly praising God for his mercies." "KE AND UNLIKE. 4" "Oh, dear, it is a very warm day!" And Mrs. Bustle began to fan herself violently. Thinking the subject not agreeable to her sensitive mind, James -forbore to continue it, and would have remained si- lent. But Mrs. Bustle rather fancied conversation when it did not turn upon subjects that came to' herself. She much preferred talking about other people. '"I suppose, Mrs. Sterling and Mrs. Roff did not always get along very well together?" ' I believe they did, nla'm. I never saw anything that could lead me to suppose there was any want of harmony between them." "Indeed! Well, they were very different." "That is possible, madam. I think their tastes were very different. Mrs. Sterling preferred retirement, and a very plain and unostentatious style of living; Mrs. Roff, I should think, from what I have seen of her family arrangements, had more regard to display; but in all their intercourse I believe they were perfectly harmonious." "That is as much as you know about the matter," thought Mrs. Bustle. But she did not say so, she merely replied: "Indeed!" "In fact, Mrs. Bustle, I do not think it possible for any one to have had any difficulty with Mrs. Sterling. She was so lovely in all her conduct. I think of her as one who showed forth in all things the character of Christ." "Indeed! That is a great thing to say of any one-a great thing; a very rare sight, indeed, to see one that is like Him." "And yet we are exhorted ' to put on the Lord Jesus." "Yes; but that means, of course, covering ourselves with his righteousness. We have none of our own, and it is only through his righteousness that we can be accepted." "No doubt you are right, Mrs. Bustle, as to the ground of our acceptance; but do you not think the Apostle here had particular reference to the character we should present to those around us? I will just turn to the passage." And James drew from his pocket a small Testament, and turning to the 13th chapter of Romans, read a few verses in connection with the one in question, and then remarked: "The same idea is held up first in the 12th verse, where we are enjoined to cast off the works of darkness, and put on the armnor of light.' Does it not seemn to you that put- ting on the Lord Jesus is here intended putting on his char- page: 412-413[View Page 412-413] , i- 5i 412 - LIKE AN D UNLIKE. acter? In other words, that the Christian iss to be a living representation of his Master." Mrs. Bustle heaved a deep sigh, but made no other answer. 6And do you not think, Mrs. Bustle, that if Christians would thus walk, that the Church would exert a mighty power in the world?" "Oh, yes, no doubt; but-we have a great deal to con- tend against. You know the Apostle himself says ' the flesh lusteth against the spirit,' ' oh, wretched man that I am,' ' with the mind I serve the law of God, and with the flesh the law of sin.' To be like Christ we must be perfect; and we never shall be perfect here." "The inward struggle, no doubt, will continue more or less to the end; but I believe the Apostle, after all, could appeal without fear to those who knew him well, that he had put on the Lord Jesus. He had been much with the Corinthian Church, and yet he could tell them, ' Be ye fol- lowels of me, even as I also am of Christ ;' and holds him- self up to their remembrance as one who had exhibited among them the patience, the humility, the meekness, and gentleness of Christ; at the same time taking no credit to himself, because hle had by patience under suffering, and by a faithful discharge of every duty, been enabled to exhibit to them the character of his Master." "Yes; but as I said before, he 'was an Apostle." "But does he not, Mrs;. Bustle, exhort the Corinthians I to do the same things?' as though he knew there was no hindrance but in their own wills to an exhibition of the same holy traits." "Well, I don't know." And Mrs. Bustle again commenced using her fan very ac- tively. She had, no doubt, read all these passages of Scrip- ture which had now been recalled to her attention, and per- haps had heard sermons preached from them; but somehow she had never realized that they had a direct application to herself. She had received them as many other professing Christians do; as designed, no doubt, to stimulate her to duty; or more likely as instructions intended to show the vast distance at which she was removed firom the character of her Master and his Apostles. And, no doubt, Mrs. Bus- tle had talked with her Christian companions over these passages, and sighed, and in words lamented her deficiencies, and thought such exercises were religion, or a part of it; "KE AND UNLIKE. 413 but as to seriously adopting the instructions as a bounden duty, and looking up to God for help, firmly resolving to walk by them; alas! it' had never entered her mind. The beautiful image of her Master she could admire, but had not tried to imitate. Indeed, it seemed more to her like a rich dress held up for admiration than one she should put on and wear. The conversation was now interrupted by the entrance of a servant, informing Mrs. Bustle that Mrs. Sterne was in the front parlor, and would be glad to see her. "Oh, my dear soul, I am so glad to see you!" was Mrs. Bustle's salutation to her friend. Mrs. Sterne did not speak, but she arose to meet her friend, looking at her in a very kind and sympathizing way, and pressing her hand very cordially. At length, ,after re- suming her seat, she said, in a tender tone of voice: "In trouble again, I see, my dear! Is it Mr. Bustle?" Mrs. Bustle, for the moment, was a little startled; she did not realize that her countenance showed any signs of dis- turbance; but seeing Mrs. Sterne continue to look so fixedly at her, she hastily drew her handkerchief across her eyes, and was made sensible that a stray tear or two had been at- tracting the notice of her friend. It was not Mr. Bustle's doing, however, this time, and she felt bound to clear his skirts; his delinquencies were many, and her trials grevious at times-so she thought; but he was guiltless now, and, in fact, Mrs. Bustle was just then in a much more Christian frame of mind, than, if we must tell the truth, she often was. "Oh, bless you no, dear! the fact is, I didn't realize that my eyes were red, or anything the matter with them. But I have been talking with that dear, good young man. Oh, I never see what a state of mind he is in!" (' He is very low, then! I thought he was getting bet- ter!"Mrs. Sterne spoke in a very soft and-ather plaintive tone. "He is reconciled? his mind is happy? that is a great thing; but I have always noticed when the Christian is drawing near his end, his doubts flee away, and that is one thing to encourage us-if we have to be troubled with doubts and fears all our life, the sun comes-out at the last; clouds through the day, but a clear setting at the end." Mrs. Bustle was impatient to put in a word, but she did not like to interrupt the pious effusions of her friend, and when she got through, it was somewhat of a puzzle to Mrs. Bustle where to begin in making a reply. She concluded, however, page: 414-415[View Page 414-415] "4 ^ LIKE AND UNLIKE. it was best to let her know that he was not in a dying state. "Oh, he is not so ill; he is quite comfortable; he is down stairs in the next room. I have just been sitting talking with him, and, do youf believe me, I never felt so in my life; it don't seem to me that I am any Christian at all! Come, aren't you a mind to go in and see him? it will do you good." "Oh, please, no; I cannot stay but a minute, and too much talking, you know, may be injurious to him, if he is convalescent. I had rather not go in now. He will be here, I suppose, some time." " cannot say as to that, but I hope he will." Mrs. Sterne, hearing this reply, was sorely confused; it at once shut off all those expressions of sympathy for Mrs. Bustle which she was about to utter; indeed, it was for this, in a great mea- sure, that her call had been made, and thus one topic having suddenly been exhausted, Mrs. Sterne had to think a moment before introduping another, so Mrs. Bustle continued: "I have never heard any man, young or old, talk as he does. What would you think, to hear a young person like him say that death had no terrors to him?" "Indeed! well, I don't know as that is altogether right or natural. Death is the King of Terrors; we all shrink from it; we all cling to life; only, there are some, I know, who have such a wretched time of it here that they lose all relish for life, and the grave seems desirable as a place of rest." 4 Oh, yes; but that is not his case; he had no wish to die, and it would do you good to hear him talk about life; he won't even allow that Solomon was right, when he said, ' It was all vanity and vexation of spirit;' and then to hear him talk about our duty as Christians! and about our doubts and fears! Do you believe me? I feel quite ashamed of my shortcomings." "Your shortcomings! well, I don't know; if he talks to you so, I don't want to see him. I think it is quite an undertaking for him, and he a young beginner, too, to go to lecturing one who is old enough to be his mother; I shouldn't have patience to listen to him, for my part. I guess it's true as Sister Roff says " "Oh, but Betsey, listen to me! you have quite, misunder- stood me; not a word has he ever said to me about my shortcomings. Oh, he is as far firom that! Why, bless your soul, he speaks as though he thought I was-but I dare "KE AND UNLIKE. 413 not say it-to hear any one praising you when you know all the time it isn't so. 0o1, it's dreadful! I felt as if I could crawl into a knot-hole; I had like to have cried like a baby; I but one thing I mean to do, Betsey, I mean to live more up to the word.'" "You have always done that." "Not always; no, I daren't say that; sometimes, you know, when one gets tried with little matters; sometimes Mr. Bustle, sometimes the servants, sometimes the widows; there are a great many little things, you know, always com- ing up to vex and put one out of humor." "Yes; and youngr men don't know much about it; a woman that has experience knows-knows that patience can't always be exercised; let him have his temper tried as yours is sometimes, or even mine. Job, even, showed some temper. Didn't you like our sermons last Sabbath? that is what I call Gospel preaching." "Yes, yes; they were good." "- Good! why, were they not excellent? every word was true-Bible truth." "Yes; I believe vou are right, Betsey; there was Bible truth enough in those two sermons to have saved the whole congregation, and so I told Mr. Bustle, but "-- "Didn't he think so, too?" "Well, to tell the truth, Betsey, Mr. Bustle was quite out' of sorts about them; you know he never flares up and makes a great to do about anything-he is always moderate; but that does not hinder him from being set; he is dreadfully set when his mind is once made up; but, as I was saying, he takes things in moderation-not like me ; I am up, you know, like a fl4tsh, but it is wrong, I know it is. I wish I was more like Mr. Bustle about that, but I don't know as I ever shall be. Well, as I was going to say-I get running off so sometimes I forget what I want to say--but about the ser- mons! as I tell you, I said to Mr. Bustle, don't you call that preaching the tlruth? just as you have said to me." "Well, what did he say?" "I hardly dare tell you just what he said, but you won't say a -word to living soul what I say to you! if it should come to the Doctor's ears, it would be dreadful, coming so from one of his elders! but I tell you just what he said-- these were his words: (Peggy, I don't deny that what he /said was true, and, if you please, Bible truth; but when Bible truth is preached in such a way that one-half the people are page: 416-417[View Page 416-417] 416 LIKE AND UNLIKE. asleep, and the other half tired to death, and wish they could get to sleep, too, it is not likely to do much good.'" "What does Mr. Bustle mean?" "Well, he says, 'the man don't know how to preach, for he don't seem to have sense enough to know when he has said enough about one thing, but keeps hammering on it until he has beat it out of the other ear; and if he would only clip off all that he says that is entirely useless and mere repetition, he might put both sermons on a sheet of paper.' Now you won't mention this for the world!" "Me! But you do astonish me to think that Mr. Bustle should feel so! I know Sterne said the sermons were too long, but he, you know, is not much interested in preaching, any way. Well, I don't know what we are coming to! Mr. Bustle was the last man that I should have thought would have found fault with such preaching. Men have itch- ing ears; they are all the time wanting something new. Can your husband say that the Doctor is not orthodox?" "Oh, bless you, no! it is not on that account he finds fault; but I don't know what is getting into Mr. Bustle, but he is. getting dreadfully out with ministers. Now, Betsey, don't you, for the world, mention this!" 1"Never fear me. I shouldn't dare to speak of it before Sterne, for it would make him ten times worse than ever; but do tell, if you can, what is it that makes Mr. Bustle feel so?" "Well, he says, 'he don't doubt that they are good men and mean well enough, but they seem to feel,' so Mr. Bustle says, ' that if they get hold of a text and divide it off into different parts, and spin out some common-place remarks on each part, and bring the thing to a conclusion at the end in a decent shape, that it is all well and good-it is a sermon.' And then he says, ' that one of their discourses is so like another that when they have made their divisions, you can tell just what is coming, for we have heard the thing so long we have got it pretty much by heart." "Did I ever! Well, what would he have? does he not want any preaching at all, and all to be silent like the Quakers?" "That is just what I said to him." "What did he say to that?" "Well, he thinks the trouble is they do not seem to be in earnest; they do not seem to feel what they say; it appears too much as if they had a job to do according to a certain pattern, and if it was done according to the general rule, it "KE AND UNLIKE. 417 was all that was necessary. Mr. Bustle says, sometimes, he feels like a hungry man who wants to be fed, and they offer i him nothing but- husks." "Husks! the Gospel, husks!" "But that is what he complains of; he says they preach round the Gospel, but they don't give the living thing; they don't preach Christ; Christ as our Saviour; Christ as our lawgiver; Christ as our pattern. He says if they were full of it themselves, it would come out, they couldn't help it." "Well, I am sure the Doctor is full of it; did you ever see a person more in earnest than he is? Sometimes I think he is too much so; he lets out his voice too loud, and you know he has a splendid voice. I am almost afraid, sometimes, that he will hurt it. I am sure if ever a man was in earnest, he is." "I wish with 'all my heart, Betsey, you could have heard Mr. Bustle talk about that very thing; for my part, I have said all I can say. I have told him just the very words you have now uttered. ' Mr. Bustle,' said I, ' can you deny that Doctor Sampson is in earnest? for sometimes,' said I, 'he turns fairly red in the face, and makes his hands come down on the Bible as if he didn't know what it was he was striking.' I must say, though, Betsey, I don't like that way of slapping the Bible, myself; it makes too much noise, and it doesn't look well; it makes the chills come over me ; but I suppose he don't think of it." "What did Mr. Bustle say to that?" "Why, he says, ' Now, Betsey, I am afraid you will laugh!' I did when he said it; but he says, 'yes, he seems in earnest, no doubt, so far as making a noise shows earnest- ness; but for the life of him, he cannot half the time tell what he is hallooing about! and that he might as wellcome and bawl into my ears that my gown was black and my hand- kerchief white, when I knew it all the time as well as he did, and end the whole by giving me a slap on the back.'" "Well, well, well-of all things! What poor creatures we are! never satisfied! I am almost sorry, however, you told me that last thing, for I fear when I hear the Doctor warming up, I shall think of Mr. Bustle standing over you, and his hand ready to, come down on your shoulders" "But not' a word of this now to living soul!" "Never fear,. Peggy, that it will go from me; but what dreadful times we are having, with the fever. I don't know 1-8*' page: 418-419[View Page 418-419] *418 TTK'TR AND UNLIKE. but we shall all have to move; you know Sister Roff is gone?" "Gone! no-where?" "With Gaines and his daughter, up to his place in the country, and a dreadful trial it is, too, to Sister Roff." "She don't like the country?" "No, not that altogether; but she told me in strict con- fidence-now you won't mention it for the world!--but you must know she is so uneasy about that young daughter of Sterling, as I told you the other day. You see, the Beau- forts live near to Mr. Gaines' mansion; and Sister Roff says she don't know how to manage so as to keep the young girl from going there. You see what her trouble is." "Well, I must say, Betsey, if that is all, Sister Roff gives herself unnecessary trouble; for if the mother and daughters are like the son, they cannot be very bad people; and I am sure, if the girl does no worse than to have such a young man, Sister Roff ought to rejoice." "But the trouble is here, Sister Bustle!" and Mrs. Sterne spoke in quite a low voice, as though she was afraid the very walls might hear-the shoe pinches here; "the propertyI that is the difficulty! there is a large estate! so it is said. Now should this young girl marry! why that will cut them off-don't you see!" "But surely Sister Roff don't expect to keep her from marrying!" "Between you and me, she will prevent her marrying out of the family, if there is any such thing." .. "But how can she hinder it, if the girl is so disposed?" "Well, I suppose-in fact I know -I am quite sure-fir om some things I have seen and heard, that there will be every effort made to induce her to marry her cousin. You know Junius is a very likely young man, and he is dead in love with his cousin, and they all think if there is no outside inter- ference, that the thing will undoubtedly take place; and you know when a young girl is situated as she is, and all the family working one way, and he near at hand to pay every attention to her, how that is like to go! And she being, too, of a very yielding disposition, and one that Sister Roff says is easily persuaded!" "And then, too," replied Mrs. Bustle, " you and I know what girls are, and what an effect it has upon them to be told that they are loved! and how very disagreeable it is if they think the person is really in earnest and truly loves "KE AND UNLIKE. 419 them, if there is nothing very much in the way, to say no! Many a girl has yielded her consent, because she could not bear to refuse when urged." "That is true, and sometimes have to repent all their lives afterward." And Mrs. Sterne heaved a deep sigh. Mrs. Bustle did not sigh; perhaps, after all her trials with Mr. Bustle, she felt that she might have done worse, but she very soon replied: "It is a lottery-a terrible lottery-and where one draws a prize, a great many draw blanks; let you and me be thank- ful that we have done as well as we have; but I fear Sister Roff is too anxious about property!" "A great deal too mnuch so! I fear it is a snare to her; she don't see it, I suppose-just such creatures we are. She is a good woman, no doubt, but like the rest of us, has her infirmities, her weak spots." "It would 0look like selfishness, would it not, if she should hlave any such plan in her head, as you have suggested?" "That she has such a plall and is determined to accom- plish it, I feel just as sure as that I am sitting here; and you see if it don't all turn out as I say." "I suppose our prayer-meeting must be suspended now for some time, there is such a scattering of our firiends." "I suppose so." And Mrs. Sterne sighed again. "A great loss it will be, too, they are such helps! I for one shall miss them sadly." Mrs. Sterne no doubt spoke sincerely. She would miss them-thdy had been a substitute to her for some other duties which might better hlave been attended to; a little heart-searching and close scrutinizing of her inner and outer person. It was much easier for MZrs. Sterne and a few others like her to talk about religrion, and engage in its external services, than to watch the feelings of their heart, and the motives by which they were actuated-much easier to engage in prayer, and even make long petitions, than to put on the meekness and gentleness of Christ, to put down a censorious spirit, and to cherish that love which " thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity." Alas, that so many prayers should ascend to heaven, only to bear witness against the piety of those who offer them, and like the Jewish sacrifices of old, aIn abomination in the sight of God! "I hlave been thinking," said Mrs. Bustle-and it was true Mrs. Bustle had been deeply exercised in thought during all this interview with her friend. The ideas which had been page: 420-421[View Page 420-421] I $! 420 . LIKE AND UNLIKE. suggested during her conversation with James Beaufort, had taken a strong hold of her mind, and somehow, although she did not venture to contradict Mrs. Sterne, yet the sentiments expressed appeared to her not so full of piety as formerly. Mrs. Bustle did not enter into them heartily as she once did, and especially did it seem to her that the remarks of her friend about their Sister Roff, were not as charitable as they might have been, nor was Mrs. Bustle as well satisfied with herself for assenting to them; she wished in some way to atone for that, and therefore remarked: "I've been thinking, Betsey, that whenever we have our meetings again, that it would be better for us to have some one subject of Christian duty brought up for us to talk about, and to make the special subject of our petitions." Mrs. Sterne did not clearly comprehend, so she continued looking at her friend, but made no reply. "You know, Betsey, that in general, our prayers have not been for any definite object, they have rather been like set performances, which each one went through according to the manner which each one had accustomed therself to." "How else should it be, Peggy? No two persons pray alike any more than they talk alike, and not so much." "You do not quite get my meaning, Betsey. What I mean is this, there does not seem to be any point to our prayers." "How you do talk, Peggy! What has got into you! Surely you cannot say that, in regard to many of the prayers; take Sister Roff, for instance, you know she is gifted, to say nothing of some others. What a fullness there is! and what urgency! and what an extended range she takes!" "That is true, no doubt; but is it best when we meet on special occasions, as we do, to go over so wide a range? Does it not tend to disturb the mind, and even to weary the mind? And then to have so many set phrases, as I said, it seems more like going through with a performance than pre- senting requests." "Well, well, if we cannot pray, I do not see what we are to do! Prayer-meetings are the last thing I should have thought any one could find fault with; do, Peggy, tell what you would have Christians do, or have them not to do? Really your mind seems to be addled." "Well, I don'tknow but it is, Betsey; certain I am, I get very much confused sometimes-things seem all in a jumble- some say one thing and some say another; but I must say I have not felt much the better for our two last meetings. Some personal matters were brought up both before and after the meeting was through, and some unkind remarks were made, and some opinions expressed, that troubled me. I know I was to blame, too; and I suppose that made me feel more sad when I came to reflect upon the meeting, and I will tell you just what thoughts passed through my mind, and they were like this: "4 Well, we have had another meeting-we have had some half a dozen prayers-and they were almost, word for word, the same that have been presented now for some years. To whom have we been praying? And does He who cannot be deceived regard them as real petitions for His help--as real confessions of sins-or as a mere ceremony on our part? And then, too, I thought how is it that I have gone on for years using the same petitions against certain sins and weak- nesses, and yet making no headway against them, when the promise of help is so explicit!" "And, Sister Peggy, how did you account for it? I should like to know, for believe me, I have had the same thoughts too. 'Am I getting any better?' I sometimes ask myself." "The way I account for it is this: If one of your children should come to you every day, or say two or three of them should come to you once a week, and go over with a round of words and phrases, expressing, it may be, sorrow for certain wrong doings of theirs, and yet go away and take no heed to your instructions as to their behavior, you would not think their expressions of repentance meant much, would you?" "No, I should not, and I should tell them so." "No doubt, and if they should also at the same time go over with a round of words and phrases, expressing desires that you would grant them certain things which you felt pretty sure they did not care much about, or took very little pains to acquire for themselves, would you feel that it was of nmuch consequence that you should grant their petition?" "No, I should not; on the contrary, I should tell them that their asking was disrespectful to me-a mere make belief." "Now honestly, Sister Sterne, is that not very much like our conduct? I do 'not say yours, but I am sadly afraid it is like mine. I fear I have not asked for grace to help me as- a hungry child asks for bread--I know I have not." page: 422-423[View Page 422-423] 1'M 422 r LTNEx AND UNLIKE. "Oh, dear! Peggy, you make me feel awfully! I don't know but you are light-if you are, I shall hardly dare to pray at all! Oh, dear me, how we do keep getting into mists and fogs, and can't tell sometimes which way we are going 2" "There is one thing I shall not do any more, Betsey; I shall never again speak against those who use a wrVitten or printed form of prayer, for I see clearly we may be just as insincere in our prayers as they may; any prayer that does not express thefeelings of the heart, is a mere ceremony and mockery, whether uttered from a book or spoken extempore, as we call it." "Sister Bustle "-Mrs. Sterne spoke quite earnestly, she really looked distressed-" supposing we can't feel or don't feel as you say hungry children do, when they come to ask for bread, what are we to do?" Mrs. Bustle was silent-it was rathler a strong case and she had not, to tell the truth, thought all round the subject. "I do wish you would answer me, and say what is a poor creature to do in such a case?" "Well, I cannot tell, Betsey, in such a case, what we are to do! only this thought comes to me: ' Every good gift, and every perfect gift cometh down firom the Father of lights ;' and then, again: ' If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not.' Now, if we can ask for wisdom, I don't see why we may not ask for a heart to feel our needs, and for grace to make the right kind of prayers." Mrs. Sterne looked at her friend in amazement. She knew Mrs. Bustle to be very efficient in all their society affairs, but had never before, that she remembered, heard her speak on heart matters in such a strain. "You are greatly blessed, Peggy, in having a husband who is able to teach you. Oh, dear! but no matter; so it must be! You and Mr. Bustle, no doubt, take great com- fort in reading the Scriptures together, and hearing his explanations; no wonder you grow!" "Oh, don't I don't Betsey! don't talk about my growing! The fact is, Mr. Bustle does read the Scriptures a good deal, and I think, sometimes, what he says about them is good- very good. But I am almost ashamed to say it, even to you -it is true, though-that when he has been reading some passages that relate what we ought to be and to do, I have \ TIKTE AND UNLIKE. 423 thought he selected them out on purpose, just to work me up!" Oh, Peggy!" . "You may well say oh! I know it was very wrong in me to think so, but it is my nature to rise up against any one who tells me my faults. But I see, now, that there is no use in our talking or praying if we do not just take the Scriptures for our guide in all things-little things and great things. Oh1, dear! here I am, for more than twenty years a member of the Church, and have got to begin away down at the very begilnilg, just like a little child learning A B C. It is very humiliating; but Betsey, I think-I thinrik-I do mean, here- after, to try and live strictly by the Bible." Mrs. Bustle had great difficulty in getting out the last sentence, and the tears had to come; she could no longer keep them back. Mrs. Sterne was not given to shedding tears only on great occasions. She was silent, however, and used her handkerchief in different ways, and did all she could to manifest her sympathy. Their conversation was now interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who informed Mrs. Bustle " that there was a colored woman in the kitchen who had called to see Mrs. Bustle, and whether Mrs. Bustle would come down into the kitchen, or should she show her up into the parlor." "What sort of a person is she, Susan, and what does she want?" "What she wants, madam, I cannot say; but I think she cannot be a beggar, or anything of that kind, for she is dressed nicely, and is well-behaved, and looks as respectable as any person." "Well, Susan, you show her up." In a very few moments the door was again opened, and fol- lowing Susan was a motherly-opoking personage, with a dark skin, but the countenance expressive of kind feelings. She was somewhat corpulent, and walked a little lame. HHer dress was plain, but each article was good of its kind, and, as Susan had said, " she had a very respectable appearance." Susan handed her a chair, and she seemed glad to take pos- session of it; coming up stairs, and, perhaps, the agitation of tind in being ushered into the parlor of a lady whom she had never seen, had put her quite out of breath, and after she sat down, it was some moments before she made any attempts at speaking. 1 , . page: 424-425[View Page 424-425] I; Q 424M T TCR AND UNLIKE. "You are wishing to see me?"Mrs. Bustle, at length, said. "If the lady is Mrs. Bustle, I am wanting to say a few words to her." "Perhaps," said Mrs. Sterne, "I had better be going; she may wish to see you in private." "Oh, no, missus, it ain't nothin' private, and it ain't nothin' on my own account; it ain't nothin' but what the whole world may hear. You see, I was told how that the lady of the house was a very good Christian woman, and took charge of widows and sich like, and was engaged in doing good to the souls and the bodies of her fellow critters, and that she would be the likeliest person I could find to apply to for this purpose; but, as I said to the lady, it ain't for myself; thank the Lord, I have no occasion to ask for anything, only what I am, and that, to be sure, I have to do, and sometimes they don't like it because I come for my just dues; but I ain't no ways in want for myself, and seeing that's the case, and it's for others I am come, and them not my own color neither, I thought I would make the venture, and I hope if I have done wrong, the lady will forgive it." "Oh, you have not done wrong; but who was it sent you to me?" "Oh, la, missus, nobody in the world has sent me but my own self; but I must try to tell you how it was that it came into my head to apply to you. You see, ma'm, there was a blessed angel of a lady, who the Lord has took to himself, who I used to go to in all such cases, and she was always ready to do; never, neveir, did she refuse when I telled her of such a one, and such a one, no matter whether they were black or white, she was always ready to go right off and see to them, and if they was sick, she would have her doctor visit them, and she would see to it that they had what would make them comfortable, and if they wasn't sick, and maybe in want of some help for the present, then her purse was ready-always ready." "Widows! I suppose you mean," said Mrs. Sterne. "Oh, no, missus, not always widows. La, bless your soul, missus, there is a great many that could do well enough if they only was widows. Them as have husbands are worser off, a good sight, than them that haven't any; that is, a good many of 'em that I know; the husbands is, many of them, the torment of their lives; they drink, and they carouse and "KE AND UNLIKE. 425 gamble, and then they come home cross and ugly, and blaming the poor critters at home, and beating them into the bargain. No, no, believe me, missus, the widows can get along well enough, as for merely being widows; not but what there is cases where a lone woman, with ugly daughters that are grown up and abuse her and worry her life out of her, and when she is sick, leave her to starve as though they wished she war dead and gone and out of the way." "I t Who was the lady that you was speaking about who was so kind?" "Sterling, missus--Mrs. Sterling. She lived in Water street; maybe missus knowd her?" "I did know "her slightly." "Oh, well, missus, she has been a dreadful loss, and it has come so sudden, and her husband, he has died, too, and the daughter is gone, and the house, they say, is all shut up, and there is ever so many poor, helpless people that is sick, and you see their whole dependence was upon-Mrs. Sterling, and she couldn't only give 'em help from week to week; for some of 'em have husbands that would take every cent they had; and some have children worser than the husbands; so you see, missus, that dear, good lady would leave the money in my hands, and as most of 'em are in my neighborhood, I could call and see what they wanted, and just get the things needful, and nobody know anything about it. But the last money she left me is now all gone, every cent of it, and what the poor critters are to do, I don't know! I am willing to share what I get, but that ain't much, now; for so many folks have left the town that I used to work for, and many that have gone are still a owing of me, so that I ain't much to give away, I assure you, missus." "Where do you live?" "I live in Leonard street, missus, near to the corner of Church street; you can see my name on the gate. Dinah Strong, my name is." "Do you not know young Mr. Beaufort, that lived at Mr. Sterling's?" "That I did, missus, and a blessed young man he is; but what has become of him, the Lord only knows. I heered he was took with the fever, but whether he is alive or dead, I can't hear. I fear, though, that he is dead, too, or he would have been to see me. But the3se are dreadful times, missus; I hope the Lord will have mercy upon us." page: 426-427[View Page 426-427] 1,II, jt426 T,TKF. AND UNLIKE. "You say, then, that you came to see me for the purpose of procuring aid for these people." "I didn't know, missus, what else to do. I have heere(d tell that- you was a lady that was ready to lend a helping handl to the poolr, and so, when I lay thinking in my bed last night what these poor critters was to do, I thought I would make bold and come and tell you about the case, and maybe you could put me in the way to get some hellp; you see, missus, I must be plain and tell you the whole truth; there is a good many houses in my neighborhood that ain't very reputable! and decent folks ain't very free to visit among them to find out them that is sick and suffering; and one of them that is most in want now, is in the house the very next door to me. The house has a bad name, and bad enough it is, in truth! The mother, you see, had three daughters; one of them is dead, and she died," I do believe, a true Christian; a beautiful young girl; but, oh, how penitent she was! poor thing, how my heart bled for her, to hear her mourning for her past misdoings, and all I could do I couldn't comfort her, and so I got that young Mr. Beaufort to visit her. You see, she had attended once or twice at a meeting he used to hold at my house every week, and I believe it was what he said one night that first set her a thinking, and she longed to see him and have him talk to her. I didn't hardly know what to do, for fear, you see, that the dear young man might be injured in his character if he should be seen going in there!"Mrs. Bustle and Mrs. Sterne cast significant glances at each other. "But he was not afraid, he said, of his character, if I would go with him; but it would have done your heart good, missus, to see how the poor thing ' catched at the Saviour.' She wouldn't believe me;! suppose she thought I didn't know; but when he sat down by her, and read to her from his little Bible ' how kind and loving Christ was, and how he told poor, sinful persons like herself, that their tears of peni- tence were accepted; that their sins were forgiven them, and that they must sin no more.' She clasped her hands together, and the tears rolled down on her face, and her lips moved; I knew, then, she was praying for pardon, too. Oh, missus, it was a blessed sight!" But poor Dinah could say no more, and Mrs. Bustle could not have said anything if she had tried. Mrs. Sterne, however, retained her self possession, and asked: "You think she was a true penitent! many deceive them- "KE AND UNLIKE. 427 selves and deceive others; you know we cannot be so sure; death-bed repentance cannot be depended on." "I can't say, missus, about that; the Lord only knows the heart. I wouldn't have any poor sinner leave the great work world to save sinners, and when I hear him say whosoever repents and believes on him shall have eternal life, and when I know what poor, miserable critters the best of us is, and that, after all, it is all of grace, I do have hope for them that look to him for help, even if it be at the last hour. If missus could have seen that poor thinog when she heard that young man read the blessed Saviour's own words, how her eye grew bright and her face was all of a smile, just as if a light from heaven was shining on it, and if you could have heard her say over again, 'Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, he will save me-oh, yes, I know he will; he pardoned just such as I have been; he will pardon me; I will trust in him.' Oh, missus, the Lord is very merciful, even at the last hour." Mrs. Bustle had been holding her handkerchief to her face for some time; the excited feelings of good old Dinah, and the simple way in which she told the story of the repentant prodigal, were just calculated to take hold of Mrs. Bustle's heart, and it was doing her good; feelings which had been long smothered under the rubbish of external duties, were rising in their strength, and Mr's. Bustle was forgetting every- i thing but that "' she was a poor sinner to be saved by grace, if saved at all; and she was looking over, with a mere glance, to be sure, but with a sickening sensation, sonme part of her Christian life, and- the glance, rapid as it was, had already lowered her much in her own esteem. She felt herself fatr below that humble follower of Christ with the dark skin, and illiterate tongue, to whom she was listening. When Dilnah had got through with what she was saying, Mrs. Bus- tle looked at her with more interest than she had ever before felt for one of her station, and said, in a voice that was by no means very firm : "I will go with you at once, Dinah; but perhaps you would like to see Mr. Beaufort? I have not told you yet that I knew where he was; but he is here, he is in the next room; he is well, but still too weak to go abroad. You would like to see him, I know." Mrs. Bustle could not but be assured of that, firom the ex- pressive manner of the good-hearted creature as she listened page: 428-429[View Page 428-429] 428 LIKE AND UNLIKE. to the facts in his case, for Dinah's hands were raised, her mouth was open, her eyes fixed, and staring with intense earnestness at her.- "The Lord be praised for his mercies! Oh, missus, you make my heart glad!" "You shall see him in a few moments." And then turning to her friend Mrs. Sterne: "You know Mr. Beaufort, Betsey; you will go in with me and see him." "I think not; he is weak, as you say, and although I know him by sight, and somewhat by reputation, yet we are stran- gers to each other. No, I will remain here; I ought to be at-home, but I should like to see you a few moments as soon as you can be spared." "Well, then, come Dinah; you follow me." As Mrs. Bustle opened the door in the room where James was sitting, and Dinah entered, he immediately rose and walked to meet her. She did not speak, but seizing his ex- tended hand with both of hers, raised it to her lips, and then fixing her eye upon him, and seeing how pale and sallow he looked, burst into a flood of tears. Mrs. Bustle placed a seat for her near to James, and then putting her hand kindly on Dinah's shoulder: "I will leave you here a few moments with Mr. Beaufort, and then I will be ready to go with you." And so saying, she returned to her friend. "Peggy, I want to say a word to you. Do you think you will go there?" "By all means. I have ordered James to have the car- riage up. The poor old creature must be very tired." "You do not intend to take her with you!" "Certainly. Why not?" "Oh, well, of course, just as, you please; but. I should have thought you would prefer going alone, if you went at all. Such people don't mind walking, and too much atten- tion has a bad effect upon them." "I don't believe it will injure Dinah; and besides, I shall want her to go witht me to the places I am to visit. Oh, Betsey! that poor black has given me a lesson that I shall never forget-I hope I shall not; I forget all about her color or anything else. She loves her Saviour-is not that very evident? She loves him, I fear, as I do not." "As you do not! Lost your hope, then?" 6"No, Betsey, I dare not say that. I feel my heart drawn toward him; I feel my need of him as I never have before; "KE AND UNLIKE. - 429 I have not, I trust, been a hypocrite, but I can see very clearly now that much that I have done has been rather from selfish motives and from habit, than from a true desire to honor my Master. No; I dare not say I do not love him; he has not so left me. I do hope that I love him, because I feel my heart cling so tenderly to one whom I believe to be his true disciple, although in a very humble condition. Betsey, I had as lief ride with Dinah as with a princess that did not love the Saviour-yes, I had rather do it." "Well, then, I don't know as I am a Christian at all! per- haps I am not-perhaps I have been deceiving myself; but I cannot feel it to be right for us to throw down all the bar- riers of society and be ' hail-fellow-well-met' with every one -black or white!" "I would not do that either, Betsey; but in this case there can be little danger. She evidently knows her place, and has good sense enough to keep it. I am sorry you feel so, for I was intending to ask you to accompany me." "Me! Oh, thank you, Peggy, I don't think it best. Sterne, you know, is very particular about such matters. Oh, no; there are ways of doing good, I think, less objec- f Lionable, and perhaps you will think so yet. But do not let ale detain you. Indeed, it is high time I was at home." Srs. Bustle was deeply absorbed in thought. The remarks of her friend and her manner troubled Mrs. Bustle; she could not sympathize with her, and it was the first time dur- ing all the years of their intimacy that any such thing had happened. "What could be the matter? Had Mrs. Sterne changed, or was the change in herself?"One thing was very certain, they did not view things alike; and Mrs. Bustle felt very sad that thus it should be. So absorbed was she as not to notice for the moment that her friend had arisen to depalrt. ' You are not going, Betsey?" "I must. I fear our interview has not been a pleasant one for either of us. So many things have come up which we have not been agreed upon-indeed, I must say, Peggy, there is a strange alteration in you! you are not the same person you llave been! and I fear my compally will not hereafter be agreeable to you." "' Oh, Betsey! Betsey! do not talk so-you -distress me., Think of what we have been talking about when you get home, and search the Scriptures and see where eitheof us are wrong. I know I am not strong-minded, and r'know page: 430-431[View Page 430-431] 430 LIKE AND UNLIKE. I am very deficient in many things; but must we not try to grow better? and when we have been wrong, is it not happy to be conscious of it and to seek the true, the right way?" Mrs. Sterne did not wish to hear any more-she was quite satisfied with her own way. It required no sacrifice to walk in it, no letting down of Self, with its worldly interests. It demanded no close scrutiny of motives, no humbling of pride, no bridling of the tongue, no particular painstaking in order to shed around her every-day life the pure light of the Christian. Her path led through external attention, to ordi- nances, a staid demeanor on particular occasions; it led through church-meetings, and prayer-meetings, and sewing- meetings, and "Christian sociables," and the doing of many 'things which were all in her way to do,'and all proper of themselves, and she was quite satisfied with it. Whether it led to holy joy and heavenly peace, and the hope that maketh not ashamed, is not so certain. "Now I want to tell you, Dinah," said Mrs. Bustle, after she had taken a seat near to her and James, and listened a few minutes to the story Dinah was telling James about some of the sick and suffering, "that I am going to do just what you say Mrs. Sterling did in regard to those persons, so their necessities shall still be attended to. I will call oh you occa- sionally, and we can consult together about them, and what I cannot so well do, you can do; but money to relieve their wants you shall have, so you can be easy on that point." "The Lord be praised for his goodness! Oh, missus, it seems like I see His very hand a bringing this all about! Oh, the Lord is so good!" "Now, Dinah," said Jalnes, " you will go home with a very happy heart." "Oh, ain't I happy! I must tell you, missus, I was mis, doubting all the way as I come along, and when I got to your fine house, I thinks to myself, ' Dinah, it ain,t no use. What business you here, Dinah? they are great folks and you a poor black! They think you want something for yourself, and maybe drive you away like any common beggar! But missus, I soon see, has got the love of the Saviour in her leart-the Lo rd be praised! And missus will surely come?" And Dinah rose to depart. "I am-going now, Dinah, and you must ride with me." "Oht missus! Dinah ride in the coach! Oh, la, missus, no, nod. I feel strong now, I could walk to the Battery." "KE AND UNLIKE. 431 "But we can get there sooner, if we ride, and I want you with me you know, Dinah, to show me the places." "Oh, well, just as missus says-but only to think! Dinah came here trembling, and she goes back in a coach! I never mistrust the Lord again, never while I breathe."' CHAPTER XXVI. MY DEAR MOTHER: Fearing you may hear that I have been attacked by the prevailing fever, which has almost desolated a great part of our city, I embrace the first opportunity that returning strength affords to write to you, in order to assure you that all is well with me. I have been called to a severe trial in the loss of my kind friends Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, they were among the first vic- tims to the terrible disease. I had the melancholy satisfaction of attending them to the very last, and of doing what was in my power to do for those who had been so very, very kind to me through the past four years, and it was some gratification to me to know that they felt happier that I was by their side in their last moments. That lovely home is of course broken up, the house is closed, and in a few days I anticipate deli- vering up all responsibility which I hold firom my connection there, and that chapter in my life will then be closed. I was seized with the fever the very night after the last funeral, and for various reasons it was deemed best that I should at once be removed to the hospital. My sickness was violent, but soon yielded to proper treatment, and as soon as I was convalescent, a gentleman-one of the elders of our chlurchl, a kind-hearted man-insisted upon taking me to his house in the upper part of the city, and far removed from any danger of the pestilence-at least, unless it spreads more rapidly than it has done for some days past. I am now able to leave my room and to enjoy the quiet social scenes of the family. Mr. and Mrs. Bustle, my kind hosts, have no children ; they occupy a large house, are plain in their habits, and I believe truly Christian in character. Why they have been thus particular in thdir attention to me page: 432-433[View Page 432-433] 432 LIKE AND UNLIKE. I cannot understand, any further than I can comprehend the past kindness of those among whom I have been thrown; it may be the result of my mother's prayers. The future, dear mother, is at present dark to me, so far as I knowing what employment to turn my hand to; but it is not dark so far as trust in God is concerned. I have good reso- lution and a firmN belief, that with regained health and the knowledge I have of general business and a spirit of indus- try, that a place will be found where I can be useful. I send you one hundred dollars, not but that I suppose you have enough on hand for present necessities, but to assure you that although out of employment, I am not quite out of means. I have reserved sufficient for my own charges for some time to come. Of course I shall not remain whele I am any longer than will be proper after I am able to be about-- to leave them before that would hurt their feelings. I shall not think of visiting you this season, for I must be on the spot where I hope to find employment, and when I do, it will most likely be inconvenient. Captain Thompson called on me before he sailed for Liver- pool; he is greatly improved, and seems delighted with the improvement in his sister. I was somewhat startled by the very particular and frequent mention he made of Sister Julia -what does it mean? And yet he is a noble fellow, a truly self-made man, refined too in feeling as well as cultivated in mind. Well, I know we have sometimes talked about family distinctions, but after all,- in our country, it will not do to be too strenuous about such matters. Keep your mind at rest, dear mother, about me. As soou as I shall make any permanent move I will inform you; it may be that I shall go South. When I was there last, I had propositions made to me that I might now think favorably of, should they be repeated. I like the manners of the South- erners-but God will decide for me, and with Him I wish to leave myself. With my best love and many kisses to the dear girls, I subscribe myself, Your dutifuil and affectionate son, JAMES BEAUFORT. P S. Miss Sterling, perhaps you will learn, is at the house of Mr. Gaines, under the care of her aunt, Mrs. Roff. If it should come in your way to show her any attention and kindness, I know it will be your pleasure to do so; but for "KE AND UNLIKE. 433 good reasons I would not wish you to obtrude yourself upon Mrs. Roff or her family. AMiss Gaines I think a noble-hearted young lady; you and the girls will find her very much altered. Good-by e, dear mother. I must add another postscript. After I had written the above, I was called upon by Mr. Russell, a great friend of the Sterlings, and who has always manifested a regard for me. ile has made me an offer to go to the South, for the purpose of making collections and settling old accounts, and obtaining new correspondents. He offers me a handsome salary,- and went so far as to give me reason to expect I may in time -be taken into his concern. I, of course, accepted his offer. So, you see, a way is opened for me whereby I may be able to continue your allowance; as to the prospect of my being a partner, of course it is flattering, but I leave that for the direction of one who knows, better than I do, what will be for my good. I have learned a lesson which I hope I shall never forget--' that the future is not within our control 5'- and can emphatically say, "i we know not what a day may bring forth." Some time when I see you I will explain what I mean by this. As Mr. Russell is anxious, for special reasons, that I should start on my journey as soon as possible, I shall not delay for the purpose of visiting you. Your regular payments will be sent by Mr. Russell, and I will firom time to time keep you informed of my whereabouts and where you may send letters to mne. With my best love to the dear girls and the warm- est emotions of my heart to you, dear mother, I again say good-bye to you all. ' Your affectionate son, JAMES BEAUFORT. James had received a severe shock in the change which had been so suddenly made in his prospects for life; and no doubt but for the sickness which immediately seized him, he would have felt bitterly the blasting of his bright hopes. That dispensation for a time served as a complete antidote. For a while life Was the ultimatum of his wishes; not, as he has said, that he feared to die, but dearer interests than his own personal existence were involved; and with life, and health, he doubted not those might be secured. His great anxiety was for the dear dependent ones, who had hitherto been kept in circumstances of comfort and respectability, by his faithful labors. As health returned, and life with its cares again opened before him, it required all his piety toward 19 page: 434-435[View Page 434-435] 34 : ' lTATKE AND UNLIKE. God to keep down the thoughts that would obtrude them- selves. His happy home! his kind friends! his comfortable situation; independent in all his actions, from having the per- fect confidence of his employerl, and the complete control of i all the business. And then the fact, wanting but a few hours of being realized, that he was a partner with one highly re- spected, with abundant means, and a business already made to hand, and in a prosperous condition. Independence almost certainly secured, without any of those risks and struggles which most have to undergo. All these, swept away as with the blast of a tornado, and nothing left but his knowledge of business to open a new path even for subsist- ence. It did indeed require a strong effort to rise above the misfortune, and gather resolution for a new struggle. In his letter to his mother he avoided any mention of all this; he had -never informed her of the bright prospects about to be realized, as it was his design, when the partnership had been consummated, to have surprised her with the paper bearing the announcement to the public of "ler son's success. This step -on his' part, no doubt, turned out for the best, as it saved her sympathizing heart the severe pangs which must have pierced it for his account. The offer of Mr. Russell was indeed a flattering one, and under other circumstances would have excited sanguine hopes. But to him, now, it was merely grateful, because it offered the means of present subsistence for- himself and his family. The future he dared not calculate upon. A severe check had been given to all buoyant calculations. The fond imag- inings of youth were hushed by the terrible experience of life's uncertainties, which the few past weeks had taught him. The business, too, which he was about to undertake was an arduous one, and of much responsibility. He was by no means sanguine of success, even with his best efforts. Debts of long standing he knew were not easily collected; tangled accounts not easily settled; nor were new corres- pondents readily obtained. His services might, after all, scarcely repay the expenses wlich his employer would neces- sarily inicur, and of course he felt that the contingency which was the most flattering item in the offer to him, would very much depend upon the success of his mission. All this weighed upon his mind, and sobered it effectually down to the mere fact that for the present he would be receiving sufficient for his demands, and be in the way of duty. Be- yond this his hopes ventured not. TLTKE AND UNLIKE. 435 But the severest item in the trial he was called to pass through, was the separation from her on whom his voung and ardent heart had fixed its strong affections. He had loved Matilda from the first, although, perhaps, not for some years willing to acknowledge it, even to himself. He had not indeed manifested his interest for her. More able to restrain his conduct than many of his age, he had observed toward her merely a kind and gentlemanly deportment- never venturing beyond that line of strict decorum which he felt bound to observe, from the fact that she treated him with an unreserved manner, and was by no means care- ful to conceal her friendly feelings. He did not presume to imagine that anything beyond common friendship was felt by, her, or intended. On one or two occasions only, when the manifestation of feelings on her part, for the moment, threw him off his guard, did he allow any expressions that could be construed into a peculiar interest. She had grown, however, into his heart. Her unaffected manners, her gentle, affectionate dis- position, her clear and active mind, her love of knowledge, and her engaging, winning behavior, formed a combination of excellence that charmed and completely captivated his heart. Her personal appearance, too, no doubt, had its own share in her power over him. As she grew to womanhood, the pretty girl had developed into a lovely young woman- symmetrical in form, graceful in every movement, her com- plexion fresh and blooming, her eye bright and sparkling, yet soft and expressive of deep and tender feeling-she seemed the embodiment of all his heart could crave. Per- sonal attractions alone could never have gained the mastery of his affections, although he was by no means insensible to them. He associated with some who might, no doubt, have taken the palm from Matilda in this respect, for her beauty was not of the dazzling order. Mary Roff would, no doubt, have attracted admirers where Matilda might not have been noticed. Miss Gaines, also, would probably have eclipsed her in an evening party. H;er beauty was of the' quiet stamp, which steals, upon the observer as he sits beside her, and listens to her soft, musical voice, and sees the sparkle from her eye, and the glow upon her face as the clear thought comes forth, made richer as it passes her finely arched, ruby lips, and witnesses the winning smile that plays over her features like the moonbeams on the silent stream. James had comprehended it all; he saw her from page: 436-437[View Page 436-437] 436 LI:KE AND UNLIKE. ! day to day, in the license of her own home. He had fami- liar conversations with her when she felt under no reserve nor restraint; and -he knew well that all the loveliness of her person was but the outward exhibition of all that was lovely and pure within. That his feelings toward her were strong and overpower- I ing, was evinced by the step he took in unfolding his heart ! to her father. It was a manly act; and although he was conscious that, much as he felt, nothing had as yet been done by him that could by any means be construed into a declaration to her, and therefore could with more confidence unveil his feelings to her parent, yet he had every reason to suppose his proposition would be startling, and it might be offensive-it might even be the cause of firustrating the kind plan of his benefactor concerning him. He knew the deep love that father had for this only child, and how suspi- cious he would be of any influence that might derogate from her- happiness; and he knew not but her parents would wish that she should connect with one who could offer wealth and station to their child. But he had kept the flame smothered as long as his nature would bear--he must know whether hope might be cherished, or whether the dear object which had become entwined about his heart must be torn from its covert there. The manner in which his avowal had been met was, of course, most satisfying-it was full as much in his favor as he could have asked, with the exception of delay, and the terms of that delay. A year under such circumstances, to his ardent feelings, appeared a long, long time. To be com- pelled to bear the suspense, and without the privilege of making advances toward the desired object, he felt, at the time, to be a severe task. He resolved, however,' most reli- giously to keep the terms. And so fearful was he that he- should reveal his intense emotions at some unguarded mo- ment, and his pledge be violated, that his manner became more distant and restrained when thrown, as he often was, into her society alone. He fancied that she noticed this, and that on her part there was a change of manner too. Their interviews were not so frequent. She seemed even more disposed to accept the services of her cousin Junius than formerly; for .Junius still clung around her, and seemed highly elated when he could have the privilege of waiting upon her, or in any way attending to her requests. She did, indeed, after the death of her parents, appear to look up to "KE AND UNLIKE. 437 him as her guide and protector, and, no doubt, had he not been restrained by the pledge he had given, he could easily have sundered the ties which bound her to her relatives. But that pledge he resolved to keep, let the consequences be what they migh't. He had, therefore, as we have seen, advised her at once to yield to their request, and throw her- self upon their care. He was not ignorant, however, of the state of things in that family, and knew all about the feel. ings of Junius, and was fully sensible that no measure would be left untried to win her to their views. How far Matilda reciprocated his affection, he could not know. There were times when he felt confident that her i! kind and confidential treatment of him was based upon some- thing beyond mere benevolence-but of this he could not be sure. -He felt satisfied of her friendship, but beyond this he dared not hope. Under such circumstances, to be entirely separated from her, and to feel that every influence which could be brought to bear upon her would be hostile to him, was a severe trial, and at times he would almost persuade himself that, as the circumstances had so much changed, he was really not bound by the promise he had made. But his better thoughts pre- vailed. Fearing he might, if thrown in her company, as he doubt- less would be if he should visit his home, he resolved not to put himself in the way of temptation. He had a strong belief in God's overruling providence. It was his duty now to prepare himself for the new call he had received, and leaving his future to an all-wise Disposer, he set himself resolutely at work in preparation for his de- parture to the South. As he wrote to his mother, "that chapter in his life was closed." page: 438-439[View Page 438-439] 438 LIKE AND UNLIKE. ! CHA PTER XXVII. MR. ROFF had succeeded to his full satisfaction in gaining X the complete control of the estate of his brother-in-law, James Sterling. It was much larger in amount than he had anticipated, and as the most of it was in stocks and mortgage securities, very easily managed. The bonds which he was obliged to give, however, for the faithful fulfillment of the trust-in consideration of his relationship to the heiress, and that his wife and children were, in case of her death, to be the inheritors of the estate-were by no means proportioned to the amount which would be at his disposal. It -was somewhat of a trial to his pride, or something else, that when James Beaufort delivered up to him the vouchers and the money which had been urler his keeping, he insisted upon doing it in the presence of witnesses, and at the same time had a record made of each article so delivered. Mr. Roff could not with propriety make any objection to the proceeding, but it added greatly to his dislike of the young man. James, however, felt greatly relieved when the business was over, and all responsibility taken from his shoulders. Some four hundred dollars were still due to him for salary, which, of course, Mr. Roff was not then bound to pay, and would not have been, for some months. But as the ready money now placed in his hands was of considerable amount, and as he wished to give no opportunity to the young man for any further interviews with him or his family, he settled it at once, and received a receipt in full, congratulating him- self on a happy riddance from one who had come so very near presenting an effectual bar to the hopes of himself and family. The funds which Mr. Roff was able now to command, came at a very opportune time, for Mr. Gaines hadl resolveed upon retiring from the concern, and of course the house must stand upon its own resources. The younger partner, too, having an offer which he considered more advantageous than his present berth, gave notice of his wish to withdraw. "KE AND UNLIKE. 439 So that Mr. Roff could not but be thankful that things had happened so opportunely. The dissolution of the concern of Roff, Gaines & Co., was accordingly announced in the several papers, and at the same time it was advertised that James Roff had taken his son Junius into copartnership, and that the business would be continued at the old stand, No. - Front street, under the firm of Roff & Son. Junius himself was not, if the truth could have been known, very much pleased with this arrangement, although it would not have answered for him to make any objection. He liad other plans in his mind. The situation he had held for the past year was now lost to him by the recent failure of the -concern, and he was congratulating himself upon havinfg a nice tilne in the country in waiting upon, his cousin AMatilda, and otherwise enjoying himself, free from the irk- somneness of being obliged to sit or stand by a desk through certain regular hours, and being at the call of others. He wished to be his own master, and work or play just when he pleased. HiIs interest in Matilda had greatly increased, too, since the death of her parents. She was now an object of great consideration, besides that of her personal worth. He felt well assured that the best business he could attend to, was to gain an interest in her heart. He believed in it more than he did in the profits of his interest in the concern of Roff & Son. He had another objection to the thing, because it would bring hiln under the constant eye of his father, a prospect by no means agreeable. The real motive on the part of, Mr. Roff was, no doubt, all sufficient to his own mind, and that, in general, was enough for Mr. Roff. He doubtless felt that it was a great favor shown to his son--as such he expected it to be re- ceived by the latter and by all the family. Junius, however, would have quite a respite from the labors of business, from the fact that the store at present was closed, and although his father remained in the city, it' was for the purpose of at- tending to pecuniary matters, in which Junius could afford but little aid. page: 440-441[View Page 440-441] ") , IKE AND UNLIKE. ! CHAPTER XXVIII. "I DO wish, Matilda, you would not make objections every time I propose returning Miss Mary Beaufort's call. What is your reason?" - Matilda looked a moment at Miss Gaines, as though pained at the question, or the manner in which it was put. "Forgive me, dear Matilda, if I have spoken wrong; I do not wish, you know I do not, to try you; but only think we have been here nearly three months, and it is six weeks since Miss Mary Beaufort called upon you. I know the family thinks strange of it." "But, dear Marianne, she did not call on me particularly, you know. My aunt says she called to see you." "That is not so, Matilda; and I almost wonder that your aunt can say so. I know she came expressly to see you; and I can assure you they feel the slight on your part. Do you suppose James Beaufort would have come within two miles of your place of residence, and not have called to see you, without some good reason?" "James! Has he been home?" and Matilda's face was highly flushed as she spoke. "Yes; he came home immediately on his return from Vir- ginia; he spent nearly two days there, and has gone now to Kentucky, and perhaps may go to New Orleans." "Did you see him?" "No ; I did not know of his being home, or I should have seen him. I wish I had, if only for the purpose of assuring him, if I could have had a chance to do so, that you were not to blame." "I am glad you did not, then." "I cannot feel as you do about that, Matilda. I think that friendship is a sacred thing, and I cannot bear to see it grieved because of some misunderstanding." t"Perhaps friendship which allows trifles to warp it is not very true." "But I think it is not a trifle, dear Matilda, that you should slight his family. You know he feels very tenderly toward his mother and sisters." Matilda was silent a few moments; she seemed deeply "KE AND UNLIKE. 441 affected-the color which had so quickly suffused her fea- tures had given place to deadly pallor. She settled back in her chair, clasped her hands tightly upon her lap, and heaved a deep sigh. "I am very miserable, dear Marianne; but what can I do? You know how I am situated-at least, I think you must know. I am not my own mistress; I cannot do as my feelings dictate." "You are very yielding, dear-I know that. Perhaps if you should assert a little more independence, it would be better for you." "Perhaps it might; and yet how can I, without making difficulty and stirring up contention-I shrink firom that as a mad person does'from water. You know but a little how determined my aunt is against that family. I know she feels wrong, and my uncle feels wrong; he is very bitter against James-he thinks he 'has insulted him; and my cousins all have the same feeling. I am thrown among them, my pro- pelty and my person are under their keeping. If I oppose their will, I only create trouble and make my home uncom- fortable; and it seems to me since I am thus under guardian- ship of relatives, my duty is plain-I ought to obey." "They ought to be reasonable, however, and if they are placed in the situation of parents to you, they should at least be as indulgent. Your own parents never laid any such restrictions upon you." The thought thus suggested was too much for Matilda; she had to give way to the tears that had been for some time ready to burst forth. Miss Gaines loved her too sincerely not to be deeply moved in sympathy. She threw her arms around her, and pressed her in a fond embrace. "Don't, dear, don't! Forgive me if I have caused you any suffering. I do love you; I am ready to suffer for you, if thereby I can be of service to you; but I feel distressed on your account--you will wilt away in your present situation- you are not happy-you never can be happy in t lis family- they take advantage of -your yielding dispositiol, and I fear yet you may be led by their influence to take a step that will make you miserable for life-you} know what I mean, do you not? Hie is not worthy of you, depend uponi it." "Sometimes I think perhaps it is the best thing I can do- it will free me from much discomfort. He is kind, and I hope he is pious, and has always seemed to care a great deal for me. 19' page: 442-443[View Page 442-443] "2 LIKE AND UNLIKEE. "It is not my place to judge -as to that; I will not say, therefore, just what I think; but, dear Matilda, I am very sure you do not love hMim as you ought to do one to whom you should commit yourself for life; and more than that, I am very confident your affections are truly placed elsewhere." ' "Unless you wish to distress me, dear Marianne, you will cease speaking so." "Well, dear, only pardon me, I will say nothing further; i only promise me this, that you will not consent to marry Junius, unless you are satisfied not only that you love him, but that you love him better than all others in the world besides. As a friend, I have a right to ask this pledge. "I give it, I give it to you freely; but I can assure you I my mind is far removed from any such subject." "I believe you, dear Matilda ;but while you may not be thinking of that subject, depend upon it, others are thinking for you. But as I have your promise, I will say no more. You will, though, call with me and see the Beauforts; in a few weeks we shall- leave here, and what, will they think, should you thus slight them?" Matilda was about to reply, when a one-horse wagon, with two persons in it, was seen coming up the avenue, and very near the house. The young ladies had been sitting in one of the parlors whose windows opened upon the wide piazza. As the vehicle drew up, Miss Gaines uttered an exclamation of surprise, and seizing Matilda's arm': '"Oh, do come; do come! Who would have thought it!" They immediately hastened from the room, and tripping across the piazza, were down the steps in an instant. "Why, Mrs. Bustle!" exclaimed Miss Gaines, " where have you come from?" "From the city of destruction, my dear," and the good lady embraced Miss Marianne in the warmest manner, and then looking at Matilda, "this is Miss Sterling! Oh, you dear child, I must kiss you, though we never have been much acquainted; your dear mother and I saw one another very seldom, the more sorry am 1; but I'know her now as I did not when she was among us; but I must some time tell you some things you likely have never known; but she is at rest now-don't weep, my darling! and yet you have cause to weep as few daughters have."' This was said while Mrs. Bustle was entering the house and- through the hall into -the parlor, where the young ladies were leading her. I,.KE AND UNLIKE. 443 '"I thought I heard a voice I knew--how do you do?" And Mrs. Roff came into the room and up to her old friend in the mnost cordial manner. "Oh, Sister Roff, how glad I am to see you!" (c And yol have been obliged to fly at last!" i Well, yes, we thought it safer to be a little further off.1" "And Mr. Bustle is with you?" "No, I have left him to see after his building; but I sup- pose he will be along in a few days. You see the fever has kept spreading so of' late, that we began to feel uneasy, even high up as we live. So Mr. Bustle and I began to talk about goingl somewhere, but where to go we could not think, as we had no friends in the country, when that dear young man, James Beaufbrt, proposed that wre should go up to his mother's; and to tell the truth, I was so anxious to see his mother, after whllat I have seen of him, that I did not make much opposition, I assure you." Mrs. Roff fanned herself somewhat rapidly as she replied: "Indeed!" "But the question was, how we should be introduced there, being perfect strangers? So James says: Mrs. Bustle, I can spare a couple of days, and if you have a mind, I will go up with you.' 'Done!' says I, 'I will go.' And such a charming beau as he is! Oh, he is a dear young man! I should think all the girls would be in love with him! But you must know him well, Sister Roff?" Mrs. Roff answered very dryly: "Oh, yes; he was once a clerk with my brother." And the fan moved more rapidly than ever. Miss Gaines looked at Matilda, and saw that she was deadly pale. She moved her chair a little closer, and taking her hand, pressed it warmly; the movement, as the little com- pany was seated, could not be noticed by the two elder ladies. Mrs. Bustle continued: "And his mother! Oh, she is one of the excellent of the earth! You must get acquainted with her-you can't help loving her. But how do you get along? I think you look pale, Sister Roff! Girls, where are you going? I want to see you, Miss Sterling, before I go; I want to tell you some things about your dear mother, and I want to talk with you about some other things, too." "We are not going fal, Mrs. Bustle,'" replied Miss Gaines. "But had you not better let me dismiss the young man who brought you, and I will send you to Mrs. Beaufort's in oui yo oMs Bafr' page: 444-445[View Page 444-445] "4' LIKE AND UNLT T'F. carriage whenever you say, and perhaps we wrill accompany you." "Oh, well, if you say so, I am not particular." So the young ladies walked out, and the old friends were left to themselves. "As I was saying, Sister Roff, you look pale; have you been well?" "Pretty well; but you know, as life 'advances, cares increase; my family is large, and then my niece, you know, is thrown upon my haflds, and no one in the world to look to but me and my husband. I find it a great charge." "She is very amicable, I am told." "Yes, she is, almost too much so. How is Mr. Bustle?" Mrs. Roff changed the subject so suddenly, that Mrs. Bustle, somewhat surprised, did not immediately reply; so Mrs. Roff continued: "Pretty much after the old sort, I suppose; men do not seem :to improve as wine does, by age; they grow more testy and stubborn, don't you think so?" "I can hardly agree with you there, Sister Roff; at least if is not the case with Mr. Bustle. Sometimes I think, may be I see things differently and feel differently, but we have never enjoyed so much for years as of late. He always was a good husband, that I must say, although sometimes I used to think he tried to vex me; but very likely it was my imagi- nation after all." "Well, it is not imagination with me, that I know. Sister Bustle, you don't know all my trials. That affair of Susan's was a sad thing; it has hurt her temper very much. I find it hard getting along with her; in fact, all my girls have too much spunk-they all take after their father. Life is a wil- derness, mlake the best of it!" Mrs. Bustle would once have sigled heavily and cordially responded to this sentiment; but things wore a very different aspect to her now; so she turned, and looking from the window, surveyed for a moment the beautiful prospect that was presented to the view. "What a lovely spot this is! You must enjoy it very much!" "Yes, it is pleasant, no doubt, everybody says so that comes here. But. I don't fancy the country-there are no privileges. I miss our meetings. But I want to say a word to you in confidence now about my niece; but-first, let me ask you, is that young Beaufort going to remain here any length of time?" "KE AND UNLIKE. 445 "Oh, bless you, no! I wish he was; he is so agreeable, and it is so good to see such affection as there is in that family-the mother and sisters fairly worship him! Oh, no, he goes down in the night-boat this evening." "I was going tQ say to you, I wish you to be careful what you say to my niece about that young man. You know, at her age, a girl is liable to strange notions, and as I have the responsibility of her, I have to be very watchful." "But he is a very fine young man." "That may be-to some 'he may appear so; but she is young, you know, and men are artful. She will have some property, too, and you know well enough how that operates. have to think of all these things, just as you would if you were in my place." "1No doubt; but he seems very different from most young men; however, I will be careful, as you request it." "And I would not say much to Matilda about that family, or about her going there. I know Sister Sterling seemed to think a good deal of them; but you know yourself, my dear sister was not what you would call strong-minded. She was good-a very good womnan-but" "Oh, I wish you could hear some poor folks that I have visited talk about her. I tell you, Sister Roff, we did not understand your sister Sterlfing, not while she was living. She did a world .of good, and nobody knew about it, but the poor creatures whom she helped." "She had plenty of money at her command, I know. My poor brother was very liberal toward her." Mrs. Bustle was somewhat surprised at the peculiarity in "Sister Roff's" feelings toward Mrs. Sterling. She was about to tell her more particularly what evidence she had of her benevolence, but was checked by the apparent indifference of her friend. "I suppose, Sister Bustle, I ought to explain to you a little how thigs stand in reference to that young man. The fact is, he was petted and spoiled by both my brother and sister Sterling, and I have no doubt if they had lived, he would have worked his cards so as to have got himself pretty snugly fixed. But Providence has frustrated all that, and I don't mean now tlat he shall get round Matilda if I can help it; he has a high temper." "Do you think so?" "I know it. He has fairly insulted my husband, so that he will have nothing to do with him, and if he should come page: 446-447[View Page 446-447] "6 LIKE AND UNLIKE. to our house, I have no' doubt, if Roff was home, he would show him the door at once. I tell you these things, that you may see a little how I am situated, inll regard to my niece. Any encouraging of "her, or of him, you see, to think of one another, is all idle and wrong.; her uncle, as her guardian, would never heal to it a moment; so the best thing for her, at least, is to keep her entirely away from his influence, and she twill soon forget all about him, if indeed she ever had any feeling that way." As Mrs. Bustle found that her visit was not likely to be very agreeable, she began to look out of the window in searlch of the young ladies ; they were not in sight, but Mrs. Roff assured her they would not be long absent, as they had no doubt gone into the grove just below the garden. The young ladies, however, were not in the grove nor within callinog distance; and we must follow them as they walk arm in arm, conversing earnestly on matters of deep interest to one of them at least, if not to both. They had walked through the garden into the grove, and from that had followed a path leading to a road running to the river; engrossed with their subject of conversation, they reached the boundary of the farm on the south, and stopped for a fnoment by a low stone fence that ran along the road already mentioned. A gentleman was just then coming up from the river, and about to pass. He turned toward them, looked an instant, and then came up. Miss Gaines was the first to speak. "Mr. Beaufort! this is an unexpected pleasure!"James did not'reply; he extended his hand to Matilda, and then to Miss Gaines. He was evidently much excited-it could be noticed in his look and manner. Matilda, unable to restrain her emotions, burst into tears. It was the first time they had met since their sad: parting in her desolate home, and no wonder that the sudden recall of that scene should have thus overpowered her. Miss Gaines died what she could to calm the disturbed feelings of her friend, and while James stood silently watching with painful interest the sorrowing girl, his own heart was too full to allow of speaking, and he knew not what to say. Just then, a voice was heard calling: "Hilloa, girls." Miss Gaines looked back and beheld Junius just turning an angle in the path by which they had come; they had been hidden from his view by the bushes and trees, and he had thus called in order to ascertain if they were in that vicinity; "KE AND UNLIKE. 447 he paused an instant as he saw' James, then advanced a few paces, and addressing Miss-Gaines: "SMrs. Bustle would be glad to see you before she goes." He then, without speaking to James, turned and retraced his steps. "Miss Sterhng," said James, "I regret most truly that our unexpected meeting should have caused you distress! Is there anything I can do for your aid or comfort? Believe me, I am ready even with my life to serve you-have I offended? Tell me what I can do-can I aid you in any way?"He took her hand, it was cold as marble. "My presence is painful to you!" She shook her head. "Believe me, not one iota of the past is forgotten by me; every obligation to serve you rests as strong as ever on my heart. Obstacles of a peculiar nature at present forbid the manifestation of my feelings, but time will remove them; bear patiently with me, and try to believe that" He checked himself suddenly. "But I must not detain you; I'can only leave myself and commend you to the merciful care of our Father in heaven." After his departure, the young ladies walked in silence toward their home. - Miss Marianne was deeply absorbed in thought; the emotion of Matilda, and some things which James had said, were unfolding to her the rocks in her own path, which it is well for her that she has seen in time; and Matilda was also pondering upon the words he had uttered; she could not quite comprehend their meaning, but they were spoken in deep earnestness. Her heart had been intensely excited, and yet she could not regret their meeting. When near the house, Miss Gaines asked: "Shall we accompany Mrs. Bustle, as I gave her some reason to suppose we would?" "I think not--not to-day; that is, I speak, you under- stand, only for myself; perhaps you had better go." "It would be but polite, I suppose, for one of us to go with her." "I think it would." Mrs. Bustle, however, had already gone. Junius, it seems, had been sent to look after the young ladies, and, on his return, having related to his mother the circumstances under which he found them, and that it was not likely they would be home for some time, she had ordered the carriage for page: 448-449[View Page 448-449] "8 LIKE AND UNLIKE. her friend, rather glad to get her off before their arrival. Miss Gaines accepted with readiness the apology of Mrs. Roff for taking the 'liberty to order the carriage. She was not, by any means, now, anxious to make a call at the Beau- forts. ,Matilda saw plainly that her aunt was highly dis- pleased. She could well infer that - from her looks, and anticipated an unpleasant scene; not wishing to encounter it then, she retired to her own room, there to meditate on her interview with James, and upon the mystery of his parting words, that " obstacles of a peculiar nature at present forbade the manifestation of his feelings, but time will remove them." CHAPTER XXIX. MORE than twelve months have now elapsed since the day that James Beaufort made the confession of his love to the father of Matilda and received his conditional approval. He had most religiously kept his promise then made, and, per- haps, some might say with too much strictness. He had, however, the satisfaction of a clear conscience; he had rigidly adhered to the right course, as it seemed to him, and although that course was a severe trial to his feelings, and might end in the utter disappointment of his hopes, he could Inot regret that he had followed it. That he had not lost any of his warm regard for her, he was very sure. And how could it be otherwise? She had grown into his heart; she seemed a part of his being; she was intimately associated with all his hopes for the future. He had other reasons, indeed, for manly exertion sufficient to stimulate him to the most untiring efforts, but none the less did he feel anxious to be in a position where he could proudly offer her his hand and heart with the consciousness that he could sustain her in per- fect independence. The fact that she had property in her own right was by no means a pleasant thought to him, except so far as it made her for the present independent of her friends. He would have preferred to think of her as looking up to him, not only for tender love, but for the supply of every want. He could have wished to have her mingled with those who were now the objects of his care, and with them "KE AND UNLIKE. 449 receiving from his hand an abundant supply. The inheri- tance, too, which she possessed, he well knew was a power- ful inducement with those under whose care she had been thrown, to use every effort to keep her from his grasp. What course had been pursued, he knew not, nor how well they had succeeded, but his fears had, of late, been greatly excited. He had learned, through correspondence with his sis- ters, that Matilda- had called but once upon them during her stay in their neighborhood, and, although they spoke in the warmest terms of her personal appearance and of the good impression a short interview had made upon their mother and themselves, yet she seemed not to act openly and unre- servedly while with them. Stories, too, had been circulated through the place that she was positively engaged to her cousin. James did not lay much stress upon this latter piece of information, for he knew how readily such stories arise and are circulated in the country; he did not believe, from what he knew of her, that Matilda would ever marry Junius; pos- sibly, however, his importunities might at last prevail, and the more readily, that she had not her parents to counsel and mould her. The period had arrived when he was free to act as his own mind dictated, and he meant to lose no time in settling this important question. For some months he had been at the South; he swas now in Virginia, and had nearly completed the business upon which he had been sent. This was his second mission for the house of Russell &, Co.; he had done what he could in furthering the interests of the concern, and to their satisfaction, and had the happiness of knowing that on his return he was to be taken in as a partner, the present junior member of the firm being about to be located at 'New Orlefans. But for this one weight upon his mind, his heart would have been almost as buoyant as in the former days of his bright prospects. -He had been into the interior of the country, and was now on his way to Richmond, there to be detained but a short time, and then for home and friends, and an honorable position with as fair prospects as his heart could covet. He had. not, indeed, forgotten the past, and did not allow himself to indulge immoderately in dreams of the future. That he left to Him who had enabled him hitherto to provide for his dear ones and to do his duty. He had reached within a few miles of Richmond, but the stage could not accomplish the distance until the next day, X- page: 450-451[View Page 450-451] 450 LIKE AND UNLIKE. and had stopped at a much more comfortable looking tavern than he had seen for some time. Supper was ordered, and with unusual relish he partook of the corn bread and bacon and dried peach sauce, and then walked into the bar-room to see what was going on, and to scrutinize the manners and cQustoms of those who were assembled there. On a table lie saw a newspaper, and taking it up, found that it was the '"New York Gazette." The date was some ten days old, yet it was new to him. He seated himself by the tallow can- dle, and prepared for a treat; not from the editorial depart- ment, so much as from the advertisements and general news. It was a great pleasure to read the names of the firms he knew and the various articles they advertised. The news was merely local--one murder, a few thefts, some changes in business relations, and a few editorial puffs of some places of public amusement. His eye ran curiously over them, and over the shipping list, and down the column to the marriages and deaths. The last he examined first; nonQ whom he knew were in that dark catalogue. Then he cast his eye, with little interest, however, to the list of those who had enrolled themselves as candidates for the sober realities of life. He started, as a name familiar to him met his eye! a slight, tlemor ran through his frame; he read on; it was the first- on the list; he read it over and over again; he laid the paper on the table, for he was so agitated that he could not hold it; a weakness like fainting came over him ; he did not wish to be observed, and already' fancied that several were closely watclhinog him. He leaned his elbows on the table, and shielded his face as well as lie could from notice, keeping his eye directed toward the paper as though busily engaged in reading; but nothing which that paper revealed was now of the least interest to himl. It might as well have been a blank sheet, and so might all the history of his future, if it had been printed there; it could have no possible charm; the world had suddenly become a blank! For a short time he remained in that position, and then, mustering all his resolution, arose, and stepping to the bar, asked that he might be shown to his room. A negro was at once ordered to procure a light, and to wait upon the gen- tleman. "Are you not well, sir?" inquired the civil barkeeper. "Thank you; I am somewhat fatigued." "I thought you looked pale. Our roads are in a bad con- dition; it is hard travelling over them." "KE AND UNLIKE. 451 The servant was now ready, and James followed him. And while he is on the way, we will look at the paper, and see what could have thus brought over his heart the deadly sickness which oppressed it. - MARRIAGES. "Married, last evening, in this city, Mr. Junius Roff, of the firm of Roff & Son, to the elegant and accomplished Miss Matilda Sterling, daughter of the late James Sterling, deceased." It was a small, dreary-looking room into which James was introduced, with but one window, and that small and high up so as barely to enable one to look out. It would have been the same to him had it been of large dimensions and luxuliantly firnished. It shut him from the world, and that was all he wished. The negro placed the candle on the table, and asked if he should assist him. "No, thank you; call me early." "Will, massa; be sure of that." The door closed and fastened, he took the only chair, and seating himself by the table, leaned ilpon it, covering his face with his hands. The paper appealed to be still before him, and that advertisement, with every word burning his eyes and sickening his heart! For a while he could not think; his faculties were benumbed. A stupor came over lim, and fol a few moments he was actually lost in sleep. That sleep, short as it was, relieved his mind, not from agony, but from the deadness which had paralyzed its powers. Then tears came to his aid, yea, the stout-hearted youth wept as he had not done since his days of childhood. When this paroxysm had passed, he tried to look above for help. It had been his resource in times of previous trial, and there he had not failed to find comfort. But this was a heavier blow than his heart had ever felt before. He found it hard to say, '"Thy will be done." He could not say it--not then. He reviewed the past; he blamed himself for abiding too strictly by his promise; he might have sought for occasional interviews. He felt sure that he once had a place in her affections, and he believed. he still had. -Perhaps she had misconstrued his reserve of manner toward her, and his long absenting of himself from her presence. He did not believe she truly loved the manl she had married. "In some way she had been goaded into it," And this thought inflicted a keener pang. He knew she had strong affections and the page: 452-453[View Page 452-453] 452 TTKR AND UNLIKE. most exquisite sensibility. "How must she suffer, connected with one who had nothing to- recommend him but a fair exterior, pleasant manners, and a smattering of knowledge! one who could appreciate no excellence she possessed, but her personal attractions and the wealth she would bring him!"It was a " sacrifice," a 1" terrible sacrifice of youth, beauty, accomplishments; purity of heart and intelligence of mind, to one whom he firmly believed had no stability of character." "A lover of pleasure more than a lover of God," although professing better things. Not -one thought of blame, however, could he allow toward her. "Influence all powerful had been brought to bear upon her; she was unsuspicious of evil, credulous to professions of interest and affection." "She was alone, surrounded by those who were grasping for what she possessed. Unused to artifice, nurtured amid sincerity and truth, how could she be aware that craft might lurk beneath earnest professions of disinterested love!"No; " he would never blame her; he would even now be a watchful guardian; he would be ever ready with a brother's heart to shield and comfort her when the dark hours of her life should come, as come lihe knew they would. She would never be happy-no, never." Somewhat consoling himself with the idea that his heart still loved her, and with the magnanimous resolve " still to be her friend, if ever her hour of need should come," he tried to compose himself to sleep. He felt that he needed rest, but there was no rest for his troubled mind. Never before had he truly known how much he loved, and often, when that hateful announcement would come before him, he would rise from his prostrate position, and clasp his head and press ]his throbbing temples as though he feared his strained nerves would overpower his reason. Morning dawned at last; whether he had slept, he could not tell, but long before the promised knock at his door, he was dressed and prepared for departure. The stage started early, so the driver said, but not so early as James could have wished. He wanted to be in motion; to hasten on his way to his home, there to lose his thoughts amid the whirl of business. His arrival in New York was almost immediately followed by the public announcement of his connection with the house of Russell & Co., and the partner who was to reside in New Orleans being on the eve of departure, James stepped at once into his place, and found constant employment for all his energies, and he was well pleased to have it so. The "KE AND UNLIKE. 453 absorbing cares and active duties of his position left no time during the day, and often far into the night, for other thoughts to obtrude themselves for any length of time than those of the business before him. He had made a short call on Mr. and Mrs. Bustle, to whom he felt under great obliga- tions, and who received him with the most marked tokens of esteem. Not a word was said by them or him about Ma- tilda's marriage. It was not a matter in which they sup- posed he had any particular interest. And, indeed, his inter- view was necessarily so short that but few topics were dwelt upon. He only called to let them see that he had not for- gotten their kindness, promising, at his first leisure, to make them a longer visit.' Three weeks had passed since his return, and an evening of leisure occurring, he directed his steps toward the dwell- ing of Mr. Gaines. He was desirous of seeing Miss Gaines, because he knew that she had seen his mother and sisters within a month or six weeksj and he wanted to talk with some one who had been as intimate as she had been with them. He found her at home, and his reception was as cor- dial as he could have wished had he been a suitor for the heart of the young lady. James had been very guarded in all his intimacy with Miss Gaines. There was an unaffected exposition, on her part, of friendly feelings toward him--a confidential opening of her heart, or of any peculiarity in her social relations, that made him cautious, lest, unhappily, she might have entertained feelings of a more delicate and dan- gel;ous nature. But Miss Gaines had never misconceived the nature of young Beaufort's feelings toward her; happily made aware, firom circumstances which she had not failed to profit by, she had allowed herself to regard him merely as a friend, and wished only to take a sister's place, if she might be allowed to do it. At least, she was resolved to do so in a imatter where she believed herself better qualified, from peculiar circumstances, to act the sister's part than any other friend he had. And, as she had been anxious for an inter- view with him, no doubt she manifested her pleasure at see- ing him in rather an emphatic manner; it was certainly much more cordial than his greeting to her. She took no excep- tions, however, to that circumstance, although she could not help noticing it. The pure and holy motives which -were at present uppermost, enabled her to overlook any obliquities of that nature. The inquiries which he made respecting his mother and sisters being all answered to his satisfaction, and page: 454-455[View Page 454-455] 454 . LIKE AND UNLIKE. some interesting particulars having been related by hiim in reference to the events of his journey to the South, all in answer. to queries on her part, the turned to him with a countenance lighted up by a smile, and asked: "Have you, called on Matilda since your return?" Ier eye still fixed on him, she perceived that his face was immediately flushed, and then grew deadly pale. He answered after a few moments' hesitation, but in a husky voice. "Is she still at Mr. Roff's?" 'C Oh, yes. So you have not yet seen her?" "It would only be very painful to me, and perhaps not agreeable to her." "I suppose I know what causes you thus to feel. But you must not judge her too severely." "I have never wished to do so. I do not lay anything to her charge. She has, I know, been peculiarly situated. She is, and I believe always will be, worthy the esteem and love of all who know her; and from me she deserves the warm- est regard, not only for her own kind treatment and sis- terly conduct, but for the sake of her parents. Never can I lose my interest for her, or my desire in some way to mani- fest my feelings toward her. But you would not wish to have me obtrude my presence where it might not be wel- come? "No, I would not. But allow me to say that I know something of Matilda's feelings. I know, too, that she has not been allowed to do as her heart dictated-at least she could not have done so without creating contention, and you know how she shrinks from anything of that kind." "I know all that." "And yet you are ready to charge her with blame for not calling more frequently upon your mother and sisters, when she was so near them. I know most truly that it was a bitter trial to her. and nothing but a sense of duty prevented her from breaking through all restraints, and even throwing herself entirely into the arms of your friends. She respects them-yes, she loves them. She feels that she could be per- iectly happy in their society. But has she, too, not some cause to feel unpleasantly? Looking upon you, as she had some right to do, as a friend--as she thought, a true friend-was it not some trial for her to feel that you have -taken so little pains to see her?" "I have done wrong, I frankly acknowledge that. I "KE AND UNLIKE. 455 yielded too much to the suggestions of my proud heart. I ought to have ventured the slight I had reason to expect from her aunt, and her family, or even insult, rather than been wanting in attention to her. It has been a sad mistake of mine which I i8hall always have to regret." ' "And yet you are following the dictates of that same proud heart, and persevering in your iniquity?" and Miss Gaines smiled as she said this. "No; by no means. The case is very different now." Miss Gaines looked at him with much concern. A new thought oppressed her. It was her turn now to become pale. She 'knew not what to say, her plans were headed in a way she little expected. She was afraid she had already * gone too far. She would say no more, and began to indulge unpleasant thoughts about the fickleness of man's affection. As she did not seem about to reply, James, willing to put an end to an unpleasant subject at once and forever, said: "Miss Gaines, this, to me, is now a very distasteful sub- ject. I am ready to acknowledge whatever I have done that has been wrong; but the past is done with now, irrevocably. What I have suffered, and what I suffer now, is known only to myself and to Him who knows my heart. But let -it all go now, as a topic of conversation between us-it can do no good, and is exceedingly painful to me." As Miss Gaines listened to his remarks, the subject seemed more involved than ever. She looked at him with an expres- sion of deep seriousness. "I beg of you, Mr. Beaufort, if you have any friendship for me, or any confidence in my friendship for you, to ex- plain to me what you mean. You say that you suffer--that you are unhappy. Answer me honestly. Are you unhappy because you suppose these misunderstandings and unfortunate events have interfered with the true friendship of Miss Ster- ling for you?" "You mean Mrs. Roff." "I am not talking about her aunt. The loss of her friendship would probably not cause you much unhappiness, and if I mis- t:ake not, you never-enjoyed that privilege. Matilda must not be blamed for the peculiarities of her friends-it would be cruelty." "I understand' you perfectly. It is of young Mrs. Roff we are speaking-Miss Sterling that was." 4' Oh, dear me!"And Miss Gaines broke out into an un- controllable fit of laughter. page: 456-457[View Page 456-457] 456 T' TKE AND UNLIKE. James was by no means disposed to merriment, nor could he see anything in the case that was calculated to excite it. He was rather piqued at the unaccountable conduct of the young lady, and felt very much like rising and bidding her good night. He at length said, however, as she continued thus to vent forth her feelings; "I assure you, Miss Gaines, to me this seems hardly a subject for merriment on the part of my friends." This only increased the paroxysm of the young lady. James immediately arose. "I wish you good evening." He bowed low to her and walked toward the door, but she sprang from-her seat and caught him by the arm. "You must not go--you shall not go; you must take your seat and listen to me, as soon as I can stop laughing long enough to explain. Please do, now. As a friend who feels most deeply for you, and Matilda, too, please sit down and listen to me." He had been much excited, and was bent on leaving the house, and although he yielded at last to her request, it was much against his will. "Now tell me," she said, " have you been under the im- pression that Matilda was rnarried?" "How could it be otherwise, when I saw it announced in a public paper?" "And never saw it contradicted?" "Certainly not." "Oh, then, let me tell you, that announcement was a shameful hoax. The perpetrator has escaped as yet; but suspicion falls on one whom you would little imagine could do such an act. But no matter for that. Believe me, it was a hoax,-she is still Miss Matilda Sterling." James arose and walked the room. He was intensely ex- cited. The change from despair to hope was more than even his manly nature could bear without manifesting it. -Miss Gaines sympathized with him; her laughter ceased. She watched him a moment, and then covered her face and wept. James was not unconscious of her feelings, nor insensible to this manifestation of interest for him. He came up and took her hand. "You are, indeed, I do believe, a true and hearty friend -a friend I can trust,-and I must confide in you. I need one to whom I can tell my feelings as I can tell them to a sister." "KE AND UNLIKE. 457 "And as true as any sister can be, will I be to you." "I, love Miss Sterling; I have loved her long-most ar- dently. As you would deal with a brother, deal with me. You know Matilda's heart-or you probably know enough to assure me whether I can hope that my feelings toward her are in any degree reciprocated." "Under other circumstances, I should decline to answer such a question ; but since you have so exposed your feelings toward her, and under the pledge of a brother's confidence in a sister's truth, I will tell you. There is undoubtedly hope for you. I firmly believe her love for you is as strong as you proclaim yours to be for her. Your apparent indif- ference was keenly felt by her, and has no doubt caused her much suffering; but. light has-been thrown into her mind within the last two months. You once spoke to her father on the subject?" "I did." "And received his sanction to address her when a year from that tinme should elapse?" "That is true ; but how did she learn it? I have never mentioned it to a living soul." "She has learned it from his private journal; it appears that he was in the habit of keeping a daily record of passing events of a personal nature. Matilda had it under her own charge; for many months she could not bear to look into it, but at length she turned to it for comfort: it seemed to con- nect her with the past; already she was beginning to look back; the future seemed dark, and the present was by no means agreeable. There she found a full record of all you said, and what was said to you in reply; and also an ex- pression of her father's pleasure, should such an event ever occur." "How lucky it was! Oh, -no, that is wrong! How kind was the-ordering of Providence that I thought to place that journal in her hands!" "But let me-ask my de ar brother," and a pleasant smile, illumined her features as she spoke, " why the year has been allowed to-be overpassed-was it that terrible announcement in the paper?" "And was not that enough? I was indeed urging, with all speed, my way home, when the hateful notice met my eye; after that, the rest can well be understood." "But not an hour must be lost in letting her know the truth. She has become acquainted with the fact that you 20 page: 458-459[View Page 458-459] 458 LIKE AND UNLIKE. have declared your love, and that her parents assented to your proposal, and that your conduct during the year of pro- bation may be all right, with some little exception. But how can she know why it is, when the year has expired and you have been in town now nearly a month, you-have not even made a call of civility?" "You know, perhaps, that Mr. Roff feels very hostile to me; he'does not deign to speak when he- meets me." "And probably will be more enraged if you should go there." "That will not by any means hinder my attempt to see Misgs Sterling. My only fear is that it may give her annoy- ance." "It will do so without doubt; the poor girl has been severely tried by her uncle's arbitrary nmanner, and- with the peculiar whims of her aunt; in fact, she lhas been watchled and guarded more like a prisoner than anything else. She cannot accept of an invitation to visit, without there must be a consultation of the whole family; and then, wherever she went, Junius must accompany her. But, of late, she will not be seen with him, ever since that announcement of their marriage." "She does not suspect him of publishing it?" "I cannot say that she does; but I do." "What possible motive could he have had'?" "I think it was done for revenge, because she utterly refused to give him any encouragement, and positively told him if he did not relinquish his object, and ever again men- tionied the subject to her, she would leave his father's house. He acted very ungentlemanly toward her, and probably they have not spoken to each other since; it seems he has pur- sued her a long while; her mother knew of it, and cautioned her against him. But you are not going?" "I must; I must see her this very night, and have a full explanation." "Mr. Madman, hear to me--hear to your sister-be ruled by reason. You can do no possible good by going there to-night; you will not be able to see her alone, and to see her without an explanation will be very embarrassing to you both. I am not as old as you are, and am glad to,look up to you as a teacher in many ways." Just then a ring of the bell announced a visitor, and James was about to depart when Miss Gaines again stopped him. "KE AND UNLIKE. 459 "You must not go yet. I wish to think awhile, and ar- range some plan. I know that ring, and should like you to meet the visitor." James gave an expressive look, and smiled. The door opened. A young gentleman entered. He and James at once advanced toward each other, and their greet- ing was remarkably cordial. Miss Gaines did not rise, but received the very graceful bow of the gentleman with marked pleasure. "Little did I anticipate this pleasure, Mr. Blauvelt." "Our meeting is quite unexpected to me, but none the less gratifying. When did you arrive?" ' A few weeks since." "I perceive," said Miss Gaines, " that you gentlemen must ask questions, just as we ladies are charged with doing --merely fobr the sake of saying something." "Indeed I did not know that he was in town." "When but last evening we were talking about him." True ; but not of his whereabouts." "Did I say nothing of that?" "Not to my remembrance." "I can easily-account for such a trifling matter having slipped from your memory "-and James gave another knowing look to Miss Marianne. "I presume subjects of deeper interest were absorbing your mind-and yours too ;" and so saying, he put his hand on the shoulder of Blauvelt. "Well, as you are a very near and dear friend of this young lady, I will ;not deny to you that there were some subjects up between us of such peculiar interest, that if some other things were forgotten we must not be held too strictly to acc ount.5" "You have spoken now! but I forgive you. You have only anticipated what I designed to have done myself, if I could only have had a convenient opportunity. A sister should not keep a secret of such consequence from a brother in whom she has unbounded trust." James arose and took her hand. "I thank you for your confidence and your kind expres- sions of regard, and have proved to you this evening that I have not withheld mine from you. I congratulate you most sincerely that your heart has found a, resting-place where I do believe its worth will be appreciated. May God bless you." And then turning to young Blauvelt, anrd taking his halnd page: 460-461[View Page 460-461] "O LIKE AND UJNLIKE. "I believe you already know my sentiments in regard to this dear friend. I need not repeat them; onlyrallow me to say, I wish you joy with all my heart." There was such an earnestness in James' manner, and the words were so evidently from his heart, that Blauvelt found it difficult to utter what he felt; his lip trembled as he answered: "I am conscious that I owe to you much of the happiness I now enjoy. You have been her best friend, and your appreciation of the qualities of her heart have had their due weight; only allow me to say, I do not think you guilty of exaggeration. You did not tell, for you could not know as I do, all her worth." "Will you please stop, both of you," said Miss Gaines, wiping away the tears that had started forth at the warm congratulation James had given her; " and tell me, William, have youl seen Matilda this evening?" "I called at her uncle's, but was informed that she was not well--indeed, quite unwell; and Ilpresume it was so, for Doc- tor Hazzard's gig was standing before the door." James looked at Miss Gaines, but said nothing. She read, however, the feelings which his countenance betrayed. "I will see her; I will see her this very evening; and if you two young gentlemen, will amuse yourselves until I return, I will go at once." "Not alone?" both gentlemen spoke together. "Oh, no; papa is in the next room. He will go with me. He has a ticket of admission there which neither of you young men possess, and inl his presence they will not be very likely to refuse me admittance to Matilda, neither will they dare to treat me as cavalierly as they do other friends of the dear girl. And if she is really ill, and wishes mne to be with her,- I shall stay with her, whether agreeable to them or not. It is well, you see, sometimes, to be the daughter of a man to whom certain folks are under peculiar obligations." And then addressing herself particularly to James: "Do you take no steps in the matter we have been talking about. All will be well, if dear Matilda has not been worried out of her reason. I have feared that, sometimes." Miss Gaines then left them, and after a few words with her father, who was too fond of her to deny any request, she went to prepare herself for her walk, and Mr. Gaines entered the parlor were the young men were seated. He was a plain man, quite unpretending in his manner, and especially "KE AND UNLIKE. 461 since he had really become a man of wealth. Care, too, with regard to his living, which, at one time, was rather fast, had changed his appearance for the better, and relief from the burdens of business had tended to smooth the furrows on his brow. His aspect was mild, and had a general look of kind- liness. "Ah, Beaufort, how goes it? you look hearty. South agrlees with you. Yov are rather a lucky fellow. Russell & Co. are a fine house. That Russell is a keen fellow--honor- able though-a good fellow, but a thorough man of business. Has Babcock gone to New Orleans?" "He sailed a week ago." "Well, I think you will get along full as well without him; he is a smart-fellow, but too uppish. He feels his oats. Southern-he is all south. He'll do better where he's going. By the way, Mr. Blauvelt," turning to his intended son-in- law, "I've been thinking a little about your matters, and as I know that you and Beaufort are friends, so Marianne tells me, and you know we have all talked together about this young man here; in fact, I did not know, one time, but he and Marianne were going to hitch horses together, so I shan't make a stranger of him. I've been thinking, I say, about your matters; -you owe something, do you not, to those ladies -I believe they called themselves the Mite Society, or some- thing of that kind-at any rate, they supported you awhile, and then cut and run and left you to shift for yourself; you owe them, at any rate, do you not?' "I do, sir." "' Will you let me know how much it is, and I'll just draw a check for the amount. They treated you shabbily, and I don't want you to be under obligations to them." "I thank you, sir, for your great kindness, but I have the means for paying that obligation, which I have saved for that very purpose, and it is my intention to call to-morrow morn- ing and cancel it." "Saved it! why, how much is it?" "Three hundred dollars." "Saved three hundred dollars! how could you do it?" "You know, Mr. Gaines, that I have been preaching for nine months past. My salary is seven hundred dollars, and a man who lived three yeals on thirty dollars a year, would find little difficulty in saving three hundred out of five hun- dred, with some perquisites." page: 462-463[View Page 462-463] "2 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "Did you actually do that? did you live on thirty dol- lars a year?" t"I did, sir.." "And have enough to eat?" "Enough, sir. Of course, it was plain food, and no great amount of butcher's meat, but I enjoyed my health, and enjoyed my independence." , "Clothes! how did you manaage for them?" : "I was saving of what I had, of course; but I am indebted for them, as well as for the thirty dollars, to one whom I am very sure is now in heaven. You know whom I refer to," turning to James. "She was an angel on earth, who did good because she. loved to do it, and did not care to let the world know when or how." "I believe she was a noble woman. I suppose I know who you mean," said Mr. Gaines, " and I think her daughter is one just after her pattern; rather handsomer, I guess, than her mother ever was, though she was fine looking, very. But I must go; Marianne is coming. Sit down now, and make yourselves at home. We will be back soon." As Miss Gaines opened the door, her father met her, and the two young gentlemen were left to themselves. In about an hour Mr. Gaines again entered the room. 'She has had her way. You see, when the hussey gets her will up, you have got to let her do as she pleases! Bt it tickled me the way she worked it." "Is Miss Sterling quite sick?" said James. "I rather guess so; she seems to be flighty a little, and has a high fever. You see, it's no wonder. Shle is, as you know, a delicate, modest, amiable, retiring girl, full of sensi- bility; a very lovely young creature; and used, I guess, as you know, Mr. Beaufort, to the velry gentlest treatment at her own home; never crossed, nor no such thing. I don't believe, from what I hear, that Sterling ever denied a single wish she had; was it not so? ain't I light?" "She was very reasonable in all her demands; but if she had not been, her father could never have denied her any- thing." "Just so that is just as I have h1eard it. Well, you see, the poor thing has got into a kind of contrary famtily. I know all about them, for I was a partner with Rofffor some years, They area contrary family-; Roff and his wife don't agree-not always. He is a snappish man at home, and she, "KE AND UNLIKE. 463 waspish, very; you never can tell where to find her. The girls are waspish, too, stinging one another when they can. They quarrel like the mischief; so they say, and I guess tlhere's some truth in it. Now, take a young girl that has been brought up where all was love and peace, and put her into such a nlest, if she can't turn wasp, too, and sting as well as the rest of themn, why, you see, she will wilt under it; it works upon her nature, and I believe in this case-and you see if it don't- turn out so-it has come nigh to upset her reason." James got up and walked the floor, and Mr. Gaines, ab- sori)ed in his subject, continued addressing his remarks to young Blauvelt. "And that ain't all; the girl has been annoyed, terribly annoyed by that young scape-grace, her cousin.. His father has taken him into business with him, what for, I don't know, without it is to keep him out of mischief; but there is no business in him; I'd as lieve have a rooster strut- ting' about a counting-room as that fellow. He's a spoilt child, full of whims and extravagance, and lazy in the bar- gain. Hie thought, you see, it would be a fine thing to get his cousin, with a good pile at her back, and the family has done their best to bring it about. But; you see, it wouldn't work. She is no fool, depend upon' that. So she let the young gentleman know that he must stop that game once for all. Well, that made a great fluster in the family, and though they daren't say much-too much pride for that- yet they spited her whenever they could get a chance." "Why did she not leave there? She is old enough to judge for herself, now," said Mr. Blauvelt. "It's a thousand pities she didn't. Old enough! ves. She could choose a guardian any time she pleases; she is over eighteen. But, you know, that would have made a great kick up and hullabaloo, and she hasn't wanted to make a fuss. But, between us, it is what ought to be done. I don't want to hurt Roff, but I say it to you two, because I know Beaufort here thinks much of the Sterling family, and you, too; I don't wish it to go no further; but Roff is managing ttlings too much to feather his own nest, and whoever mar- ries that girl will find it so, or my name ain't Gaines. Ster- ling left a large property-that you know, Beaufort." But James was too much absorbed with bitter thoughts to heed any remarks about property. "I tell you what, Beaufort, I wish, with all my heart, you page: 464-465[View Page 464-465] "KE AND TUNLIKE. and she would just fall in love with one another; it would be a grand match, and I want to see her out of that holrnet's nest; but I fear the poor thing is going to take the lon turn; a high fever and flighty ain't very good smptoms. nd then, says I, wouldn't Roff hold up his head ig lle thoms ever. They would make a clean sweep; that mily would take the whole It's a thousand pities Sterling didn't make a will and provide for such an accident. There are a thon- sand ways a man might have bestowed his fortune in case of his child's death before marriage, better than letting it go where it will do more harm than good. But it what they've been fishing for, and I don't know but they'll get what they want, after all ; athousand pities, though." "Miss Marianne will not be home, then, until morning!" said James, stepping up to Mr. Gaines. Bless your soul I don't know when she will be home. You see, Matilda knew her, and grasped her hand, and drew her close down to her, and wouldn't hardly let her go long enough to come down and whisper a word to mne. Marianne says to me: 'Papa, I can't leave Matilda to-night; and so long as she seems to want me by her, I shall stay.' This she said so that Mrs. Roff and her da hter Susan, you know, the grass widow, could both hear. " "' But your father may need you at home' said Mrs. eROf. We cantakeall care of her,' said the grass widow her eyes flashing fire. I don't wonder Somerindyke carried on as he did; faith, those eyes are enough to Mnake a man do most anything to get rid of them. Mariannehowever took no notice ofwhat either of m rianne, however, took no notice of what either of them said. And when I came out, she stepped to the door with me. Pa,' says she, 'I shall stay here in spite of theln. Matilda clings to me she seems afraid to have any of thenm come near her. I do be- lieve,' sys she, 'there has been terrible doings here, and they have frightened dear Matilda Oat of her senses. I shan't leave her, without they take me by main force and put me in the street.' And I guess she won't; she will stick to what she says through thick and thin." James did not remain long after hearing that Miss Gaines would not return that evening. He rejoiced that she had remained, but his heart sank at the tidings he had heard. Light had arisen upon him, the light of hope; yea, more, le had the joy of knowing that he was loved by her who had been so long the object of his affection; the ideal to him of all loveliness. But a darker cloud than ever had again set- "KE AND UNLIKPE. 465 tied upon him, and with an anxious, aching heart, he pro- ceeded to his lodgings and to his room ; there to do as he had ever tried to do in his extremity, commit himself and her he loved, to Him who held their destiny in his hands. CHAPTER XXX. Mt. BUSTLE had been taking a long walk, and was near-- ing his home, when he saw a gentleman come out of his house, and descending the steps, turn and go on his way in -the same direction Mr. Bustle was walking, which prevented their meeting, so that Mr. Bustle could not see his face; he took no special thought of the matter, but entered his dwell- ing, and placing his hat and cane in their usual place, opened his parlor door, and was somewhat surprised at seeing Mrs. Bustle there at that time of day, as she was usually in her own room in the morning; and what surprised him still more was, that she sat with her face covered, as though she was in trouble; in fact, as he stepped up to her, he found that she was weeping. He was much alarmed. "Peggy, what is it? what's the matter? Anybody dead!" Mrs..Bustle shook her head in the negative, but did not speak. "What is it, then? what troubles you?" 'c Oh, Mr. Bustle, I am a very wicked woman!" Mr. Bustle did not at once reply; he was somewhat amazed, to be sure, but knowing that Mrs. Bustle had, of late, been more ready than formerly to feel and confess her shortcomings, he supposed it might possibly be that a fresh sense of them had affected her nervous system. Mrs. Bustle was very nervous. "Didn't you meet a young man leaving the house as you came in? Oh, I feel dreadfully!" Mr. Bustle felt the blood rushing to his face, and his knees began to grow weak, so he seized a chair and sat down. "What of him? I saw a man come out of the house, but I didn't know him." "It was some years ago, Mr. Bustle, but it seems strange 20* page: 466-467[View Page 466-467] "6 ' ,TRE AND UNLIKE. to me, now, that I could have done so. I am good for nothing, Mr. Bustle!" Mr. Bustle run his handkerchief over his foretop and his forehead; the perspiration had fairly started, and a blur was coming over his eyes; he made no reply, but awaited in pain- ful suspense to hear the revelation, whatever it might be. "I wish I had never had anything to do with the Mite Society nor the prayer-meeting either."' Mr. Bustle waited still--it would probably come out soon enough; he had to keep using his handkerchief, however. Mrs. Bustle kept hers close to her face. "I never told you at the time, Mr. Bustle, for I must say my conscience accused me then of doing a wrong thing, so I dare not say anything to you." "I do wish, Peggy, you would say at once what it is you have done; you make me feel very uncomfortable." "I don't wish to do that, I am sure. I have done it often I know, and I am sorry for it. But you remember, some years ago "-and Mrs. Bustle dropped her hand and looked at her husband; she had been weeping, and there was a very subdued expression upon her countenance; that she should look him directly in the face, somewhat relieved the good man-" we had a Mite Society, but why it was called a Mite Society I don't know-it was more than a mite some -of us gave; but we took up a young man to support for the ministry." "Was that the young man who has just left here?" "The very same." "He didn't look much as if he was dependent upon char- ity; he was handsomely dressed as any gentleman that walks the streets, and held his head as high." "And well he may, Mr. Bustle; he is a noble-spirited man -he may well hold his head uip; I never felt so ashamed in my life, as when he called here this morning and handed me the money that we paid for him." "Why should you be ashamed, 9r he either, for doing that? It is just what he ought to have done, and every other man -that is helped to get an education. It would be much more honorable for them to save from their salaries until they had paid every dollar the public had given them, and not run as soon as they are licensed and get a wife and keep house and have a family about them, and so put it out of -their power to pay what they justly owe." "You are right, no doubt, Mr. Bustle; but you see, we "TKRF AND'UNLIKE. 467 didn't help him through-we-only gave him a start, and then, without any warning, we cut him right off and left him to shift for himself." "Well,;wife, I must say, unless you had good reason- unless he had been guiltysof some immoral act, or had re- nounced some essential doctrine of the Bible-I must say it was not doing the right thing." (' Oh, Mr. Bustle, I feel dreadfully when I think of it, and how he has lived since! I made him tell me all the particu- lars, buthhe asked me not to mention them, and I won't; but he has lived on thirty dollars a-year, and that he received from that good Mrs. Sterling. She wanted to give him more, but he would not take it, only she made him presents at times; and only to think! that I at that very time felt angry at her, because she told me and some others that it was an unrighte- ous act. I wonder at myself, Mr. Bustle, how I could have done so I .What ideas must I have had of religion or of Christian character! I most wonder, Mr. Bustle, you didn't tell me of my faults." "We don't always like to be told of our faults, Peggy. Perhaps, if I had then told you of some things which I did see and know you would have taken it amiss; and then we have all so many faults of our own, we don't often feel like saying anything to others; but if we truly-seek to know oulr selves and truly seek for wisdom and strength to do right in all things, we shall certainly be enlightened and strength- ened." "Well, now, Mr. Bustle, can you tell me what I am to do with this money?" "How much is it?" "Three hundred dollars." "You must give it to the society that contributed it." "But the society-is all broken up now." "Then give it to those who contributed it." "How can I do that? Some are dead, some gone away. All I can do that I see is to get together all I know of them that were members, and then let them do as they please. I want to get rid of it some way, and just as soon- as I can.' "Are not those who attend your prayer-meeting members of that society?" "We do not have any more meetings." "Given that up, too?" "Well, you see, Mr. Bustle, the fever first broke that up, and when they all returned to the city, nothing was said page: 468-469[View Page 468-469] "8 LIKE AND -UNLIKE. about it by any of them but Mrs. Roff and Betsey Sterne; but, to tell the truth, I did not feel like it, and I wonder now that I used to engage in them as I did. I don't look upon them as profitable-they did not profit me, that is certain." "Perhaps it was your own fault." "I know it was; but there are' some things about such meetings, I don't like; and in fact, Mr. Bustle, I think, they are wrong.' "Wrong!" "Yes, Mr. Bustle, I know it sounds strangely for a pro- fessing Chstian to speak against prayer-meetings; but as they generally are conducted, both- by you men and us wo- men, I think they are wrong." "Do, Peggy, explain yourself." "I will try to. In the first place, I will say that no doubt it is highly proper for Christians to unite socially for the pur- pose of assisting each other in their Christiar walk; but then it ought to be only a few at a time, so that there could be perfect freedom in communicating one to another; there should also be solme specific object before them, both as a subject of conversation and of their petitions-but how is it now? We have a Church prayer-meeting-not many attend, to be sure--but what is the meeting for? What is the pur. port of the different prayers that are offered? One man is. called upon, and he gets up and goes over with the common phrases which have been in use for I don't know how long, and he goes through it mechanically. It may be all well enough, but hardly any one feels that any power has been exercised either with God or man. Another is called upon, and he gets up and begins well enough, for he has learned some few sentences by hearlt, and then he rambles about, re- peats the same thing in a little different way, gets at a loss, and you are afraid he is going to stop short, and finally winds up in the usual way. His great effort seems to have been to get along somehow or other, and finish the part he was called upon to perform. And I leave it to you, Mr. Bus- tie, don't the most of them speak and act just as-if they were going through with a performance, and not as if they had certain requests to make which God only could grant, and which they felt great need of obtaining, and which were all clearly arranged in their own minds. Now such meetings, I believe, do special little good, and I rather think do some evil." "KE AND UNLIKE 469 Well, Peggy, I don't know but you are right; but what would you have?" "I don't know as I can explain to you what I would have; but one thiing appears to me very clear. We ought not to go to God with petitions in a manner we would not think of addressing an earthly prince. If we have a Church prayer- meeting, we should have some particular objects laid before the meeting, for which we are to make requests, and I think two prayers by those who are able to command their thoughts so as to state their requests in a straight-forward, appropriate manner, would be much better than four or five, or even more. What I mean is, that prayer-meetings in gene- ral want heart to them-at least, I know ours did; and here- after I shall go by myself for all that I need, and I am sure I shall find help. Our prayers in the closet are most likely to be the expressions of our hearts for real necessities." "Would you do away with the Church prayer-meeting?" "Yes, I would, if it can't be altered; it seems to me, ag I feel now, a solemn kind of mockery." "Peggy, you talk strangely! What has put such notions in your head?" "I am sure I don't know, Mr. Bustle, without it is because I have been thinking in earnest about such matters of late. I believe we do a great many things as Christians without thinking. We go to certain meetings because others go, or we go because there is some pleasurable excitement in them, or we go because we feel it a duty to go." "Just stop now, Peggy! Cannot you see that you have got on a wrong track. What better motive can actuate us than that of duty? You are on a wrong track, depend upon it." "I don't know but I am; but I am telling you, Mr. Bustle, just how it seems to me. I feel, to be sure, that it is my duty to pray daily to God, to acknowledge my obligations, to confess my errors, to pray for pardon, and for strength and grace to keep all God's precepts; and so, from a sense of duty, I might go every Sabbath to the house of God to unite in public worship, only I wish there was more of: worship there and less of preaching; there is too little of God and too much of man, about our Sabbath services. I say I can do all this from a sense of duty, even if the performances were not very pleasant to me; but a meeting for prayer seems to me to be a different thing. Now tell me, Mr. Bus- tle, what you have the Church prayer-meeting for." page: 470-471[View Page 470-471] 470 LIKE AND UNLIKE. ' The Church prayer-meeting for! Why, Peggy,why do you ask such a question? You know well enough.-the Church prayer-meeting! why, we have always had one-all our churches have them. Your question is a very strange one." "Well, I wish you would answer it, though, husband, for I am serious in asking it. I have been thinking of the matter a -good deal, and could not tell any one, for the life of me, what particular thing we meet there to petition for." "Why, don't we petition for all good things?" "Yes; no doubt almost all good things are mentioned in the prayers; but is there anything different friom what we could as well and better each one ask for himself or herself alone, and is not the promise given to the petition that is thus presented: 'Thy Father, who seeth in secret, shall re- ward thee openly?"' "But is not the promise also given to two or three when they were met together? 'If two of you shall agree on earth touching anything that ye would ask, it shall be done for you by my Father who is in heaven."' "But when people generally in a prayer-meeting come to- gether, is there any such agreement? is there not merely the idea that it is a sort of a good place to be in? and are they not much troubled at times because so few attend? And, to tell the truth, Mr. Bustle, does not the meeting often seem to be a very unmeaning affair?" "I cannot see, Peggy, just what you would have." "Well, I don't know that I can tell you just what I would have; but it strikes me, if Christians would come together, say the middle of the week, if they felt the need of some public religious exercise, and have brought up for consider- ation some passage of Scripture, either relating to doctrine or practice, and confer together about it, giving each his views on the passage, and examining himself by it, and let the subject be so thoroughly canvassed as to make a real impres- sion on the mind and to create a oneness of feeling. Then let one be called upon to present a prayer to God embodying the subject which had been before them, and asking for light from above to clear up difficulties, if it be a subject of belief, or for grace to perform the duty, if it be a practical subject; but let the address to God have a definite point to it, and one which all by the previous exercise are prepared to unite in. This to me would seem like doing something-it seems to me it would be helping us as Christians and paying more honor to Him who sees the heart." ' "KE AND UNLIKE. 471 "I don't know but you are right, Peggy. It does seem, when one comes to look at it, a more reasonable way. I am sure I never thought of it before. I know sometimes I feel, as you say, that our prayers are a good deal rambling and all over the world, and some of them too long and some too short, and some of them dreadfully confused." "And don't you think it sounds very queer sometimes to liave Dr. Sampson say, 'Brother such-an-one, will you please make a short prayer.' What is the object of it if we have already asked for all we needed, why call for another short exercise? Merely to fill up the time?" "The more I think of it, Peggy, the more plainly I see what you mean. Our prayer-meetings have been, I fear, too much a mere ceremony. It makes me feel uncomfortable when I tihink of it, for prayer is a solemn thing, and when it is Offered unmeaningly is a mockery. But why don't you, Peoggy, try to carry out some such plan in your meeting?- I think you women might help one another very much by hav- ing such a meeting among yourselves." "Well, as I said, Mr. Bustle, our meeting seems to be bro- ken up, and I don't feel'much heart to begin at it. You see, I have talked some to Betsey Sterne, but she don't fall in with my views. She thinks, I believe, that I am getting a little wild and Methodistical; and Sister Roff don't feel very friendly to me now, for what reason I can't say, without it is that we have taken notice of James Beaufort. Why is it, ,Mr. Bustle, that she seems to have such a spite against that young man?" "She don't know him." "But she ought to know him, living so long as he did at her brother's." "Women get prejudices sometimes; but I have thought that maybe she fears that her niece, Miss Sterling, thinks ra- ther well of him." Mr. Bustle was prevented from- replying further to Mrs. Bustle's queries by the entrance of Miss Marianne Gaines. She looked quite pale and care-worn, and was almost out of breath from fast walking. Both Mr. and Mrs. Bustle re- ceived her very kindly-she had become a favorite with them both. "You seem tired, dear. Come, sit down." "' Oh, I cannot sit, Mrs. Bustle! I am in great trouble about Matilda Sterling." "What is it?" page: 472-473[View Page 472-473] 472 LIKE AND UNLIKE. ' I- can hardly have time to tell you; but you see there has' been a great fuss at Mrs. Roff's yesterday. Mrs. Som- erindyke treated Matilda very rudely yesterday morning- so much so, that Matilda felt she could not stay there any longer. She must make some change, and she had made up her mind to come here and see you and Mr. Bustle. She would have gone to Mr. Russell, but there were some private reasons why she felt a delicacy in going to Mr. and Mrs. Russell just now. So she determined to come here and see you, and see if Mr. Bustle would not become her guardian or help her in some way, so that she should be freed from the persecution she has to endure there." "Her aunt don't persecute her, surely?" "Well, you know, Mrs. Roff can't do much to restrain her daughters, and then she too don't understand Matilda-she don't realize how Matilda has been brought up, and she wants to direct her just as if she was a child of twelve years of age. Matilda is over eighteen, and has better judgment and knows more than all of them put together; but she is very yielding, too much so--she cannot bear contention, nor to make difficulty, and therefore has put up at times with shame- ful treatment; but she has become dreadfully nervous, and the house has become hateful to her, and especially is it painful for her to be living there since that affair of the ad- vertisement about her marriage with Junius. So, yesterday, when her cousin spoke so very harshy and insultingly to her, she made up her mind that there must be a change in some way or she should lose her reason, and without saying anything, she got all ready to come and see you." "Did she tell them she was coming here?" "No, she did not intend to say a word about going out at all; but it seems they suspected something, and watched her. So as she was going through the hall, her aunt came out and asked her where she was going. She replied, 'she was going out.' 'I perceive that,' her aunt said; 'but where are you going to?' ' I think it very strange, Aunt Roff,' Matilda said, 'that you should thus question me whenever I go abroad; it is surely high time that I might have liberty to step from the house without being obliged to give an account of myself.' Her aunt no doubt saw from Matilda's countenance, that she was excited and in earnest; so she at once stepped to the street-door, locked it, and put the key in her pocket. ' Now,' says she, 'I will not open the door until you answer -me properly, and tell me where you are going.' Matilda then ; "KE AND UNLIKE. 473 said to her,' Aunt Roff, this is very ill treatment, and I think you will one day sincerely repent of it. I ought not to be thus held in bondage; but if I tell you what my errand is, will you allow me to go?' 'Yes,' said her aunt. 'Well,' says Matilda, 'to tell you the truth, aunt, I am going to see if I cannot procure a place where I shall not be an annoyance to others, and where I shall not myself be so annoyed as I am here.' This is all that Matilda said, so she tells me; butt immediately her aunt called to the family, and told them to send sonme one immediately for Mr. Roff. She then said to those about her, that Matilda was out of her head, and she feared was going to drown herself. This she said low, so that Matilda should not hear her; but she did hear her, and would have tried to satisfy them that she was in the full pos- session of her reason; but they immediately took hold of her and endeavored to lead her back and take off her things. This so affected Miatilda, that she did no doubt for a time lose fall possession of her mind, and when Mr. Roff came, she was quite wild, and could not endure his presence without screanm- ing and crying, nor could she bear to have one of the falmily come near her. She would go almost into spasms when they attempted to approach her. The nursery maid was the- only one whom she would allow to wait upon or come near her. Well, then, they sent for the doctor, and M3Irs Roff, no doubt, told him her own story, and tried to make him believe that this had been coming on for some time, and that she was undoubtedly losing her reason, if it was not already gone. Thle doctor, I think, knows better; but he is very thick with the family, and is engaged, so it is said, to Mary Roff. So you see he won't be likely to say or do anything they don't like; and between you and me, Mrs. Bustle, I believe they will yet, if she cannot be got from there, go entirely out of hel head.7" "Poor thing! what can be done for her?" "That is the thing; but something ought to be done right , off. But what I want now, Mrs. Bustle, is, to have you go i with me there; Matilda wishes to see you. It was her design yesterday to have come here. She has great con- fidence in you and Mr. Bustle, and she thinks you can, if any one, be of assistance to her now. Her aunt, Mrs. Roff, she says, will not dare to deny you admittance to her. You will go, will you not?" "I will, if I can do any good. What do you say, Mr. Bustle." page: 474-475[View Page 474-475] 474 T TKR AND UNLIKE. "And now, Mr. Bustle, are. not you willing to go and see my father? I have told him all about it, and he says some- thing oughtto be done. That Matilda is shamefully imposed upon, and that she ought to be freed from the tyranny of her friends." "I think so, too; at least I think there must be something done to make her friends understand that she is in a free country. Yes, I will ride down with you and Mrs. Bustle, and stop at your house." And Mr. Bustle immediately gave orders for his carriage. In the meantime, we must see how things are going on at Mrs. Roff's. Mrs. Roff and her two elder daughters are in the room of Matilda-one of the daughters at each windoW, and Mrs. Roff herself seated so as to command the door. Matilda was dressed and seated in a rocking-chair. She was very pale, and looked as though just recovering from a fit of sickness. She had spent comparatively a comfortable night; only Miss Gaines having been with her. She was perfectly herself, but was by no means inclined to converse with those who were there about her. Her aunt having learned that Miss Gaines had gone, seemed very solicitous that she should not be left alone. She said it was the doctor's orders, for there was no telling what she might do to injure herself. She was undoubtedly not in her right mind, and must be watched closely. For this reason she had called her daughters, and they were then acting as sentinels. Mvr. Roff and the doctor had gone for the purpose of taking out a commission of lunacy, with the plea that there was danger of her doing violence to herself, and that she might be removed to the Lunatic Asylum, as they could not guard her where she then was. How sincere they all were in thus acting, we will not pretend to say, although for the sake of human nature, we cannot but hope that her aunt at least thought that there was good reason for the step. Matilda did not know why it was that her relations should thus force themselves upon her; it was unusual for thelm even to visit her roon at all. She did not like to say to them that there was cno need for thals confining themselves, lest they should take some offence. She therletf-e sat quietly in tier chair, saying nothing herself and paying nlO regnard to what li^thllbt e the subject of conversation between her rela- ti;ves. She was thinking of matters more immediately cou- nected with her own situation. She had, during the night, "TKF. AND UNLIKE. 475 held free converse with her friend, who had been enabled by her previous interview with James Beaufort, to take a load from her heart. She was now comparatively happy; her feel- ings were at rest. She knew that she was loved by him on whom. her own affections were strongly placed. She was ready now to throw herself into his arms, to look up to him as her friend and protector. "Oh, that she could see him! that she could once feel that she had such a guardian by her side! There would .be no need of words--they knew each other's hearts." She had entirely recovered from the attack almost of fienzy which, she had suffered, but was still determined to seek a new home. She would have sent for James and have put herself under his protection, but she anticipated a trying time for him by the disturbance it would make in the family; she therefore concluded to let Miss Gaines go for Mrs. Bustle, for the reason that her aunt had great respect for that lady, on account of her position in the Church and in the circle Mrs. Roff was most familiar with, and she -had confidence in Mrs. Bustle, mainly through, the representations made to her of late by Miss Gaines. What lMrs. Bustle could do for her she did not know, but she could probably give her some advice, and might possibly be willing to receive her as a member of her family. Events, however, she little dreamed of, are thickening around her, which we must leave for another chapter. CHAPTER XXXI. JAMEs BEAUFORT had called early at the house of M11r. Gaines, to make inquiry whether Miss Gaines had returned, and as to the condition of Matilda. But nothing had been heard from either of them. With a mind torn with anxiety, he repaired to his office; he was not fit -for business, and yet matters of consequence devolved upon him, and must be attended to. About the middle of the fkorenoon, Mr. Rustell received a note from a lawyer of eminence, requesting his iminediate attendance at his office on business of importance, and of course James had thrown upon his hands an extra amount of care. Sad as was his heart, business must be attended to, and for awhile absorbed his whole attention. page: 476-477[View Page 476-477] 476 LIKE AND UNLIKE. At length Mr. Russell, coming in, called him into their more private office. "Do you know that Miss Sterling is said to be deranged?" "I heard last evening that she was unwell and somewhat light-headed." "They say she is positively deranged, and her friends are about to put her in the Lunatic Asylum." James clapped his hand to his head, and uttering an excla- mation of horror,sank down in his chair, utterly helpless. Mr. Russell was not surprised at his emotion, although he knew nothing of the peculiar interest which Jameso had in this intelligence, beyond the fact that having been so long in Mr. Sterling's family, he would of course be naturally shocked. "' I don't like what I have heard. about this matter. I have just seen Gaines and old Mr. Bustle, and they have told me things about the treatment she has received, and about what Miss Gaines represents of the condition she is now in, which makes me think there is foul play about to be acted; and I think Sterling's friends must do something at once. My belief is, that she is no more deranged than you or I; but if there should be an attempt made to force-her to an asylum, the act would of itself, as it would almost any girl of her sen- sitive nature, deprive her of her reason." James looked at Mr. Russell with an air that seemed very much as if he was on the verge of desperation, but his tongue seemed paralyzed. "You know her well, know all about her, and I doubt not feel interest enough in her to attempt something in her behalf." "Mr. Russell, I will endure death itself for her sake." Russell was somewhat surprised at this outhurst; but he knew James had strong feelings, and he knew he loved the father and mother with almost filial affection.' "From your long acquaintance, and presuming you are still on friendly terms! I supposed you would be ready to take some active measures on her behalf." "I consider myself pledged to her; there is nothing I would not do that is in the power of man to do, to aid her." "Roff is a man I do not wish to have anything to do with. We are not on speaking terms, and I could have no very good excuse for going to his house. You are differently situated. Having been long a member of Mr. Sterling's family, and as you now tell me, in intimate relations with his "KE AND UNLIKE. 4" daughter, of course you have a right to see her and a right to interfere on her behalf." "But the difficulty is, in my being admitted to her presence. The family are all much prejudiced against me, Mr. Roff in particular, and I doubt not, would prevent, if possible, my seeing Miss Sterling, and no doubt order me from the house." "Are you not in the habit of going there?" "I am not; I should expect to be insulted should I go there." '"You would not mind that, however." "No, sir; I should utterly disregard all they could do to me personally. I merely mention it as the reason why I have not been there." Their conversation was now inter- rupted by the entrance of Mr. Gaines. "How are you, Beaufort? You look wildl-what's the matter--ain't going deranged, too, are you?" And then turning to Russell: "I tell you what, Russell, I fear we are too late; I liave just learned that Roff has taken out the commission of lunacy, and suppose they will proceed right off to accom- plish the devilish deed, if some means are not used to stop them. The fact is, if they do attempt to carry her off, they will most assuredly accomplish what I believe they wish to do, which is, to destroy her reason. I suppose it is wicked for me to say so, but I know some things which neither of you know-desperate cases sometimes demand desperate remedies. I shan't say anything about it now; but mind what I have told yotn, and see if I ain't right-there is more in this move than meets the eye, and I guess more in it than Mrs. Roff, her aunt, dreams of, or I don't -believe she would give in to it as- she does; it iS very likely she believes Matilda is in a state of mind that makes it necessary she should be guarded more strictly than they can guard her at home; but my Marianne tells me that she-is as rational as she is. She is weak, however, and much exhausted, and it would take a mighty little toupset her and throw her into a brain-fever, which would probably end her life. Now, Raus sell, she must be taken from that house just as soon as possible. Bustle and his wife are ready to-take her to their house. I never saw the old man so wide awake about anything in my life." James was in an agony all the time Mr. Gaines was thus delivering himself, impatient to- do something at once, and page: 478-479[View Page 478-479] 478 LIKE AND UNLIKE. yet not knowing what to do; he thought of rushing to the house, and forcing his way to her presence, and if she would accept of his protection, tearinig her fromn among them; '1 but might not the confusion consequent on such a step, prove most disastrous to the dear object he wished to protect?" "Alld now, I tell you what," continued Mr. Gaines, and turning to Beaufort, "it seems fi'om what Marianne tells me, that you are the man to -do the thing. Miss Sterling has commissioned Marianne to say to you, that she throws her- self on' your protection, and looks to you to befriend her, and that she wishes you would lose no time in coming to see her. There! what do you think of that? But where are vou goina?" and Mr. Gaines caught his arm. "Please not to detain me, Mr. Gaines; I will see Miss Sterling in spite of any obstacle." "That's a man; but you must take me with you-two are better than one, you know. And Roff will know better than to put you out of doors, if I am by; that is, if he knows what's what. But we must be quick, or the mischief may all be done before we get there; we will hail the first carriage we meet." CH APTER XXX II. WHEN Mrs. Bustle and Miss Gaines reached the house of Mrs. Roff, they found the knocker muffled, and as they ascended the steps, a servant stood ready to open the door, and at first, seemed inclined not to allow them admittance, but Mrs. Bustle pushed immediately past her, followed closely by Miss Gaines. The girl then stepped after them, perceiv- ing that they were about to go up stairs. "Mrs. Roff has ordered me, Miss, to allow no one to go to Miss Sterling's room." "But I may go, Sarah?" "No, Miss. Mrs. Roff has given positive orders." J Mrs. Bustle hesitated, and then said: "We W ill wait in the parlor, then; please call Mrs. Roff." The girl immediately proceeded to do her errand, while Miss Gaines, as-soon as she was out of sight, determined to brave all difficulties, and hastened with a light step toward the room of Matilda, which was in the third story. She "KE AND UNLIKE. 479 entered the room just as the servant maid was delivering her message. The girl looked affrighted at her temerity, but said nothing. Mrs. Roff was evidently highly offended, and in pretty sharp tones, asked the girl: "Did I not give you strict orders that no strangers must be admitted? The doctor has left positive orders that no one but the family must be allowed to see Miss Sterling." This was, no doubt, intended for the benefit of Miss Gaines. Miss Gaines, however, took no notice of it, 'being busily en- gaged in taking off her hat and shawl, just as if she were quite at home. Matilda, however , noticed it, and said: ' Marianne has come back, aunt, at my particular request. Has Mrs. Bustle conme with vou?" turning toweard Marianne. "Mrs. Bustle! who sent for her?" "'I did, aunt; I wish to see her." "That cannot be; the doctor has positively forbidden us to let any strangers into your room. You are very danger- ously ill, Matilda, and you must hear to reason." Matilda smiled. "Not dangerously ill, I hope, aunt. I as- sure you, I feel quite well, although a little weak. I think the doctor will not need to trouble himself further about me." Mrs. Roff gave Miss Gaines a knowing look, as much as to say: "You hear her now; you hear her; I hope you are convinced now." Mrs. Somerindyke and Mary, in the mean- time, as soon as they saw Miss Gaines take off her things, arose and left the room. Mrs. Roff called to'them: 4"Tell Mrs. Bustle that I shall not be able to see her this morning; you can tell Her the reason." And then the door was at once closed. "But, aunt, it is my wish to see Mrs. Bustle, and if she cannot be allowed to come up her'e, I must go down and see her; perhaps it would be better that I should go down." And she attempted to rise from her seat for that purpose. "Matilda, Matilda," catching hold of her at the same time; "do you want to set me raving distracted? Why will you be so perverse? Here have I and your cousins been sit- ting all the morning and trying to keep you quiet until the doctor comes, and now you are thinking of going down stairs! you must not go. Now hear; I order you not to go." The doctor had told Mrs. Roff that the only way .was to be firm and positive with her. Matilda's face grew red, but she submitted, and retained her seat. For a few mo- ments not a word was said. Miss Gaines was indignant, but she thought the wisest way for her was to keep mum. . page: 480-481[View Page 480-481] 480 LIKE AND UNLIKE. "One thing I must particularly request, aunt, and that is, that Doctor Ilazzard be not allowed to come near lme again. I do not wish his services, nor 'do I feel that I need the advice of any physician. Doctor Bowne has always tended in our family, and I prefer him. Did you call there, Mari- anne?" "I did; he says he will call about twelve o'clock." Mrs. Roff was utterly confounded. She would have spoken her mind pretty freely to Miss Gaines, but policy demanded that she should at least treat that young lady with civility; and she saw at once, too, that the wish of Ma- tilda in that respect was perfectly natural; moreover, the behavior of her niece seemed so rational, with the exception of her attempt to go down stairs, that she began herself to believe that she was really better. But the warning which the doctor had given her, and the strict commands of her husband, still had weight with her. She replied: "That will be rather auwkward. Doctor Hazzard will not the: here until one o'clock, and if Doctor Bowne comes at twelve, it will be of no use; he surely, as consulting physi- cian, will not think of seeing Matilda without it is in the presence of Doctor Hazzard." "He can see me, aunt, as 'a friend; he need make no inquiries as to my health. In fact, it is as an old friend, and a friend of my parents, that I wish to see him. I don't pre- sume he will administer to me anything further than counsel; that is what I most need." "Oh, Matilda!" Mrs. Roff could not help feeling that Matilda's mind was clear on some points, at least. 'c What is it that-you want? You seem to have lost all confidence in me or mine! What- is it that you want? Here you have gone and sent for Mrs. Bustle; you want particularly to see her ; what can she do for you? what does she care for you? Am I not your own father's sister? and are you not my only near relative beyond my own children?" "And have I not, dear aunt, been obedient unto you, and submitted to your will, and avoided adding anything to your cares that I could help?" c' Yes, I know you have, until yesterday; but I will not lay that up against you; you did not know what you did then. But why should you want counsel? What counsel can Doctor Bowne give you that your uncle could not give you; or, what better can Mrs. Bustle advise you than I can advise you?" "KE AND UNLIKE. 481 "I do not wish to trouble you, Aunt Roff. I have made up my mind that I cannot live here. I do not wish to enumerate all my reasons-some of them you must appre- hend; but I know it will be better, both for you and me, that we separate. My mind is fixed on that point. I design to inquire of Mrs. Bustle whether she will receive me as a boarder. I had as lief as not that you should know my ob- ject in wishing to see her, for I had no idea of taking any secret step." "Board at Mrs. Bustle's! Well, well, well!" Mrs. Roff would have said more, but she had an idea, now, which induced her to think that the plan was a childish freak, and could be easily broken up. She was rather glad, now, to know that MrIs. Bustle had come. She wished to see Mrs. Bustle very much, but not in that room. A change came over her which was evident to both Matilda and Miss Gaines. "You say you wish to see Mrs. Bustle; shall I bring her up?" "If you please, aunt." So Mrs. Roff withdrew, and was soon in the presence of her old friend, making apologies for her detention-up stairs, "fearing that she would not be able to come down at all; but, as Miss Gaines was there, and Matilda was disposed to be quiet, she had run down for a few minutes." "The poor, dear child is very weak, not so much in body as in her mind; yesterday we had an awful time, and did not know but we should be obliged, at one time, to send her to the asylum. You see, Sister Bustle, I have noticed this coming on, for some time, now. She has been very still, not disposed to talk, sighs a good deal, and that, you know, is a bad sign for a young person." "What seems to trouble her?" said Mrs. Bustle. "What trouble can she possibly have, Sister Bustle? She hlas every want supplied. She has no care whatever, and is handsomely provided for. My brother, Mr. Roff says, did not leave as much property as people say for, but there will be enough for any young girl." "Over one hundred thousand, I believe," said Mrs. Bustle. "Oh, la, no; nothing like that. But who told you it was over a hundred thousand? It must have been some one that didn't know much about it." "Oh, well, it is not of much consequence; any way; but, much or little, you know young girls are not apt to trouble themselves about money matters. The fact is, Felicia, I have 21 . r page: 482-483[View Page 482-483] 482 LIKE AND UNLIKE. been wanting to see you for some time; I have been wanting to talk with you. I have refrained from doing so from the fact that I do not like'to meddle with other people's affairs. I feel differently on that point from what I once did; but, you and I have long been friends, and, therefore, since your niece has expressed a wish to see me, I thought I would come, even at the risk of appearing to you as if I meddled with what does not belong to me; but, to be plain with you, Felicia, I fear you are pursuing a wrong course with your niece; you endeavor to control her as if she were a child; she is past- eighteen, you know." "I know all that, Mrs. Bustle." It was no longer Sister Bustle. Mrs. Roff had already taken deadly offence. "I don't need any one to remind me of her age, nor that she is my niece; nor does it- seem to me very proper that outsiders, who lhave no possible interest in Miss Sterling, should be troubling themself about her. She has friends who are quite capable of taking care of her." "I see,' Felicia, that what I have said has already affected you. I did not come here, I can assure you, with any desire to meddle with your prerogative, or to interfere between you and your niece. I know some things which, probably, you do not know, and I hoped that I might rely upon the friendly relation in which we have so long stood toward each other, and by a plain and free talk with you, endeavor to obviate the difficulties in which I know you are likely to be involved. But, as you seem indisposed to allow me the privilege of a friend, I certainly will not force myself upon you. But you will allow me to see your niece, since I have come at her request?" Things had taken quite a different turn from what Mrs. Roff anticipated. Sister Bustle was certainly very much changed. She was much milder, both in her looks and in her conversation than formerly; but there was a seriousness and calmness of manner that gave no hope that she could be induced to fall in with any views that she did not heartily approve of. It was far from Mrs. Roff's plan to have had the least difficulty with Sister Bustle; so far;firom that, it was by means of friendly manifestations that Sister. Bustle was to have been led to meet Mrs. Roff's views. But the I rather premature development on the part of Mrs. Bustle in reference to the delicate subject she intended to confer upon and tender her advice, had aroused the fire which was always so ready to break out at any provocation, and caused Mrs. ! ! . "KE AND UNLIKE. 483 Roff at once to cut the cord of friendship, and to stand on her rights. Mrs. Bustle meant well, but she had not done very wisely. Mrs. Roff did not mean well, butintended to have appeared perfectly disinterested and kind-hearted; only doing things that might seem to be harsh merely from the most sacred sense of duty. She had anticipated the pleasure of waiting upon Sister Bustle into Matilda's room, and of hav- ing that good friend using her influence to persuade Matilda that the only proper way for her was to continue under the care of her aunt, who loved her as no other human being did. This plan was now frustrated, and she could not think, there- fore, of helping to any interview between them. "' The doctor has positively forbidden any strangers from entering the room. Miss Sterling is very weak and nervous, and really not herself; but I suppose I know your object in wishing to see her, and I must say it is not very laly-like, to say nothing of anything else-yes, I will say it-it does not savor much of religion to be trying to stir up the mind of a weak young girl against her relatives for the purpose of get- ting her under your own control. I suppose Mr. Bustle is very anxious to have the management of her property. I understand he has a good many estates in his hands now; I suppose he finds it a good business." The time had been, and that not many months gone by, when such an address would have aroused Mrs. Bustle, not only to great wrath and to the expression of some very bitter words, but even to the calling of the Church Session together for the purpose of disciplining an unworthy member. But the reply now showed a better state of feeling than Mrs. Bus- tle once indulged. 'If you understood all the circumstances of the case, Sister Roff, and knew how utterly mistaken you are, either as to my motives for coming here, or as to the wish of nmy husband, you would not make the charge you do. May I tell you, that to shield you from public censure had very great weight in the motives which brought me here, although I should not, probably, have come if your niece had not sent for me. I am truly grieved that you have allowed yourself to be displeased at me, and if Hhave erred in what I said in reference to the restraint you put upon your niece, I hope you will pardon me. I spoke with the freedom of an old friend, but, perhaps, without sufficiently considering your feelings; you will forgive me!" page: 484-485[View Page 484-485] 484 LIKE AND UNLIKE. Mrs. Roff made no reply; she was thoroughly ashamed, but her pride and passion had now the upper hand. "But in regard to Miss- Sterling," continued Mrs. Bustle, "I must tell you frankly that Miss Gaines says she has her mind perfectly, and is very anxious to see me. Do you sup- pose I would do or say anything that I should not wish you to hear? in fact, I shall now insist upon your being present, if I have any interview with her at all." Mrs. Roff was relieved- from the matter of coming to a decision, by the unexpected entrance of Matilda herself. She was fully arrayed for going abroad, with the exception of her bonnet, which she held in her hand. Miss Gaines was with her, also with her shawl and bonnet on. "Matilda, what does this mean?"The young lady could not at the moment reply, for she was embracing Mrs. Bustle, and that lady, deeply affected with the sight of Matilda, and her affectionate greeting, was letting the tears flow quite fireely. "What does this mean, Miss Gaines? you know what the doctor's orders are." "Aunt, you must allow me to say, that I do not consider myself under the care of Doctor Hazzard. I am quite well, although I must allow I am not very strong. I do not look very sick, do I, Mrs. Bustle?"' "You look as if you had been somewhat unwell, my doar." "That any one can see," said her aunt, at the same time taking hold of the hat which Matilda was holding in her hand. "Why have you thus dressed up, Matilda? You must not think of going out--that is, without your uncle and the doctor are with you; they will be here soon, and the doctor said if you were able, your uncle might get a carriage, and they would take you a ride, as it might do you good. But the doctor must see you first; so let me have your hat." A sudden tremor had come over Matilda as her aunt was speaking; a suspicion had crossed her mind; it had come upon her once, before that morning, both from the conduct of her aunt and cousins in watching her so closely, and from 'something which had been said which it was not supposed she could hear. She now felt her strength failing,. but aroused every energy. She believed that any momentary suspension of her faculties would be misconstrued. Sihe knew she was very nervous, and her only plan was to keep perfectly calm. She relinquished the hat, and as quietly as possible, took a seat near to Mrs. Bustle, and putting her head near to that lady, said, in a whisper: "KE AND UNLIKE. 485 "You-will not leave me?" "What did you sav, Matilda?" said her aunt, her eye flashing with anger. Matilda looked calmly at her aunt as she replied: "I asked Mrs. Bustle, aunt, not to leave me." "That is very well, to be sure. And how dare you thus to insult me to my very face?" "I did not design it as an insult, aunt. You will remem- ber I told you this morning that I wished to see Mrs. Bustle, and now I tell you what I wished to see her for: I wish her either to take me under her own roof, or to assist me in pro- curing a home. I do not wish to stay here, and cannot stay here any longer." "There comes your uncle, and I am glad of it. We shall see whether you will play any tantrums with him. The doc- tor is with him, too, I hope." The street door-bell had rung, and Mrs. Roff, knowing that the time had nearly arrived when her husband and his aid were expected, supposed, of course, they had come. The servant, however, soon announced that two gentlemen were in the parlor, anti wished to see Mr. Roff. Tell them he is not home." "I did, ma'm, and then they said they would be glad to see Mrs. Roff." "Do you know who they are? did you not ask them their names?" "One of them is Mr. Gaines; the other is a young gentle- man, I never saw him before." Mrs. Roff, still under great excitement, was about to leave the room, when, seeing her daughter, Mrs. Somerindyke, in the entry: "Do, Susan," she said, " go into the parlor, and see what the gentlemen want; tell them your father is not at home, and that I am engaged." Miss Gaineiand Matilda looked at each other. Matilda, almost paralyzed with excitement, for her quick ear had detected a voice which she thought she knew. Marianne shook her head, as much as to say "' keep- quiet." Mrs. So- merindyke did not remain long, however; she was immedi- ately back. "You are wanted, ma; you had better go in; you will see an old acquaintance; he must have a good deal of brass, however, to show his face here." This was said in a low voice; it was not heard by Matilda page: 486-487[View Page 486-487] 486 LIKE AND UNLIKE. -she was too intent on listening for the sound of voices in the other room. Mrs. Roff, however, did not quite take her meaning, but asked: -' Who? What old acquaintance?" still in a low voice. "Why, young Beaufort; now do you know?" And Mrs. Roff, more excited than ever, rushed' from the room. Matilda had caught the name, for her cousin, highly provoked, had forgotten to use an undertone. She arose, and walking to the folding door, opened it just as her aunt was about to enter the room from the hall door. James arose quickly to meet- her. Not a word was said as their hands were clasped. A moment their eyes were fastened on each other, and then she fell upon his breast, saying: "I commit myself to you." He pressed her to him: "My own dear Matilda!" The effort she had made to keep her mind quiet, together with this unexpected meeting, and the outhurst of feeling as she acknowledged thus, for the first time, her love, and felt his strong arm about her, and heard his words of com- fort and assurance, were too much for her. James assisted her to the sofa. At once there was a rush into the room, for Mrs. Bustle and Marianne had witnessed the whole scene, and flow to her aid. As James laid his precious burden down, she had barely strength to say: "Don't leave me." He put his face near to her. "Never-never again." Mrs. Roff was so taken by surprise when she saw Matilda enter the room, and thus throw herself into the arms of James Beaufort, that she stood perfectly still and surveyed the- scene. Anger at first predominated, and she would have vented. forth her feelings against the intruder, and against Matilda too, had it not been for the presence of Mr. Gaines. But other feelings soon took the place of anger. She saw at once that all her suspicions had been verified, and that Matilda and Beaufort were no doubt engaged to each other,and, as she believed, had long held that relation. For her to interfere now would be hopeless. Feeling that she had been insulted, not only by her niece and her :om- panion, but by Mrs. Bustle and Miss Gaines, too, who :had no doubt been in the confidence of Matilda, she left the room, and probably did not notice that anything unusual "KE AND UNLIKE. 487 had happened to Matilda, for although she saw Miss Gaines and Mrs. Bustle enter in haste, she merely concluded that they were going to congratulate the lovers on the success of their scheme. She therefore retired to her own room. Miss Gaines, feeling quite at home, soon procured such articles as were needed. Matilda did not lose her consciousness, but still retained the hand of her lover. 'The weakness which had come over her was but momentary, and her mind, exul- tant and at rest, soon threw off its physical oppression. Her eye now sparkled with animation, as it rested on him for whom her heart had suffered so much. Very soon she was able to sit up. She felt conscious that there was a scene of trial before her, and she must prepare for it. "I should like to see my aunt and uncle," she said, turn- ing to James; " we must have an explanation with them, and the sooner the better." And then addressing herself to Mrs. Bustle: "Marianne has told you what my wish is; can you comply with it?" Mrs. Bustle nodded assent. "Oh, thank you; then the sooner we go the better; that is, after I have seen my uncle and aunt." "Your uncle has just driven up, and the doctor is with him," said Mr. Gaines, who had busied himself examining the pictures in the room, and was then looking at one near the window. ' Matilda turned her bright eye to James, and smiling, said: "You are my physician, now; I put myself under your care, and promise to follow your prescription to the letter." James raised her hand, and pressed it to his lips, but made no other reply. His mind was deeply agitated. He was happy indeed with the assurance of her love and confidence; but he knew a severe ordeal awaited her. Friends who had held to her so tenaciously, would not easily give her up. He knew how violent were their passions, and how imbit- tered they were against him. For himself he had no thought; firmly resolved to command his feelings, to bear patiently; but to act with reference entirely to her, who had committed herself to his guidance. As Mr. Roff entered the house, his wife met him-she had been in her room, anxiously waiting his return. She beck- oned him and the doctor into the back parlor, and in as page: 488-489[View Page 488-489] 4 488 LIKE AND UNLIKE. few words as possible related the scene which she had wit- nessed. - "But why did you allow her to leave her room?"- "I didn't allow her; she came down while I was talking with Mrs. Bustle, down stairs, here: I left Miss Gaines to watch her." ' "Is Mrs. Bustle here? What does the hag want?" "Matilda, it seems, sent for her; she has taken it into her head to go and board with old Bustle and his wife." t You see, now," said the doctor, "she is not in her right mind, it is very evident." "I don't know, doctor," replied Mrs. Roff, "I wish I could think so; but she seems to me to have her mind; she is just as decided as ever her father was ;, she is just' like him. She is set against us, and I don't believe anything will turn her. And now she has put herself under the care of that fellow. What we shall do with her I do not know!" "You have legal power, Mr. Roff, to plevent any such step; and now you are also clothed with extra authority. My impression is that she is not in her right mind, and the sooner she is placed where she can have proper care, the better. I should, if I were you, pay no regard to anybody; but go right forward. If that young man, or any one else, attempts to interfere with you, they can be made to smart severely for it." Mr. Roff was greatly excited, but he had been silent-the remarks of his wife had astounded him. If Matilda was in her right mind! and if she had committed herself to James Beaufort! there was trouble in store for him greater than he had ever known before. It must not be! In some way, it mattered not much how, but in some way, she must be torn from such a connection! His heart trembled, for he felt conscious that the case was, after all, a doubtful one. He had, indeed, taken his oath, and so had the doctor, that she was in danger of self-destruction, and he was clothed with authority to act; but yet his heart misgave him. This wras one view of the case. The other was too terrible for him to contemplate, with any degree of courage!- Death to him- self, or to her, would be preferable to her connection with that young man! He knew all about the estate of James Sterling-no deception could be practised upon him as to its value. He would be called to a strict account. His better feelings would have led him to act with moderation. His circumstances forbade the thought of doing less that he had "KE AND UNLIKE. 489 now power to do. The reasoning of the doctor fell in with the latter. So summoning his resolution to risk every ex- tremity, he motioned to the doctor to follow him, and pro- ceeded at once to the firont room, where the company was assembled. Matilda and James both rose as they entered, and Mr. Gaines came up and greeted him. Mr. Roff knew not that Mr. Gaines had come with James, and supposed he had merely made a call on the famnily; lie therefore saluted him civily, and then turning to James: "I am somewhat surprised at your presence here, sir." "Uncle Roff," said Matilda, "Mr. Beaufort and I would be glad to see you and Aunt Roff, if you will allow us an in- terview." Just then the doctor stepped up to Matilda, and took her hand, and endeavored to get her to sit down, and asked her "how she felt to-day?" "I am much better, I thank you, sir-and will release you from any further anxiety on my account." The doctor, however, still held her arm, and without heeding what she said, continued to urge her to take a seat, saying: "Come, come; you know you must mind me." James stepped up toward him, his eye flashing with ex- citement. 'You -hear, sir, what Miss Sterling says--your services are not required." The doctor started back, for the eye of James looked rather ominous of mischief. "And who are you, sir, that dare intrude under my roof, and attempt interference in my family?" As Mr. Roff said this, he flushed with rage, and held his clenched fist as close to James as to be offensive, but did not touch him. Matilda seized the arm of the latter, who stood perfectly unmoved. l He has come here, Uncle Roff, as my protector--he has come at my wish. And I shall leave your house this mo- ment with him, unless you grant us the private interview we ask." "Do it at your peril! and you, sir, shall be taken care of, I promise you. You shall pay bitterly for your temerity, unless you immediately leave this room and this house." "I am ready, Mr. Roff, to leave your house at any mo- ment, but Miss Sterling must accormpany ne. She has re- 21* page: 490-491[View Page 490-491] "O T T:R: AND UNLIKE. quested an interview with yourself and her aunt; but if it cannot be granted, we are ready to depart." "Matilda, I order you to leave the room. I want to settle matters with this young man." "I shall never leave him, Uncle Roff, without torn from him by violence?' Mr. Gaines had stepped into the entry, and Mrs. Bustle and Miss Gaines into the adjoining room. Mr. Gaines did not wish to appear interested in the affair any way. His daughter, however, hearing the loud tones of Mr. Roff, and knowing him to have a violent temper, stepped into the hall, and begged him to go in and interfere. Matilda might be frightened out of her senses. After Matilda had replied as above to the command of her uncle, James thought it high time to let both the doctor and Mr. Roff know that he was aware of their designs. "Mr. Roff, I do not wish to injure you, but I must let you know that your design, in reference to this young lady, is known, and believing, as Ido, and as others do, who know her, that it is an unwarranted act, I warn you that unless you desist at once friom annoying her in any way, I shall take means, not only to stop your proceedings, but to bring each one engaged in the design to punishment." "What design, sir?" said the doctor. "What design? answer me that!" looking fiercely at James. ",The design, sir, which took you this morning to the office of Judge ." The doctor turned pale. He looked at Mr. Roff. Mr. Roff was pale, too-that is, comparatively; his heart began to droop; his passions and his desperation had led him to act without discretion. He had gained nothing-he had lost everything. He felt that he wasa ruined man! and a dark mist enveloped him on every side. He was, indeed, an object of pity, although he still kept up a haughty look. Just then, Mr. Gaines entered, and taking him by the arm, led him from the room. Miss Gaines also came in, and begged Matilda to step in and see her aunt. Mrs. Roff, too, had exhausted her temper, and when she found that Matilda was not to be moved by threats, had recourse to tears; and Mrs. Bustle and Miss Gaines had been doing all they could to soothe her, but without effect. Matilda never could en- dure to see her aunt in tears, and was truly in distress when she now came up to her. She put her arm about her, and said all she could say to comfort her. "KE AND UNLIKE. 491 "No, Matilda, no; you don't love me. I know it now as I have never known it before. No, you cannot love me, and treat me so. Your father's only sister." "Dear aunt, I may yet live long enongh to convince you of your misapprehension. I reret exceedingly that things hlave come to such a pass." "Then why should you persist in your conduct?" "What do you refer to, aunt?" '"You know, Matilda, what I mean. Your conduct in re- ference to that young man. To throw yourself into his arms! to ask him to, be your protector, and all that! Oh, Matilda! and in my presence, too -right before my face!" ' And why not, aunt, before your face? I have no wish whatever to hide from you the fact that I love him, -and that he loves me, and that we are pledged to each other." "Oh, Matilda, don't tell me that'! don't, don't. Oh, you will distract me! I shall go raving crazy. Don't tell me so! don't! don't! don't!" And Mrs. Roff went off into the high notes most emphati- cally. Mrs. Bustle caught hold of her, and called for help; Marianne ran in from the next room, and added her efforts to allay the excitement. : But a new and- more thrilling scene drew their attention at once from Mrs. Roff-her husband had fallen to the floor in a fit, and the three gentlemen present were bearing him into the room from the hall, where he had been taken. The scene that followed must be left to the imagination of the reader. From the sofa where they laid him he never rose. Strong arms bore the helpless man to his bed-a few days he lingered, and slight spells of consciousness were allowed him; at such intervals he took no notice of wife or children, or of any of his attendants, although apparently aware of-their presence. He turned away from the world, as a sickening, loathed object; he seemed to be at prayer, for his hands were clasped and his lips moved and some words escaped that denoted a spirit wrestling with God. To God that spirit soon departed, and there we leave him. r( page: 492-493[View Page 492-493] "2 -LIKE AND UNLIKE. CHAPTER XXXIII. Two years have passed since the scenes recorded in the last chapter, and we must gather the remaining personages with whose history we have been dealing for the purpose of saying farewell. Mrs. Roff is living in a small house quite in the upper part of the city. Her husband's affairs were found to be in a sad condition; their house in Broadway, with its fine furniture, was sold at auction, and yet nothing was left for his family. Matilda, however, clung to her aunt through all her trial. She selected Mr. Bustle as her guardian, and with his assent she was. able from her income to provide a home'for her de- pendent relatives. She has passed throulgh a severe ordeal since the death of her uncle-the strong antipathy of all the family to James Beaufort, and their unkind and unnatural treatment of herself, would have driven one less under the influence of correct feeling and religious principle away from them and from all interest in their concerns. But she could not thus do, at least so long as her aunt manifested any desire for her presence. She has therefore remained among them, and at the period when this chapter opens she and her aunt and her youngest cousins are occupying, as has been said, a small house in the upper part of the city. Mrs. Roff has been somewhat benefited by her trials, but still has to con- tend with those peculiarities in her temper which have been always too manifest. Junius, through the influence of Mr. Gaines, was provided with the situation of under secretary of an insurance com- pany. This was done for the special purpose of enabling him to support his mother and sisters. But Junius had no idea of spending his income for any such purpose; he had too many personal expenses of his own to meet, and very soon after receiving his appointment he married, as he supposed, a rich girl, or one who would be rich at some future day, and being taken into-the family of his wife, and they living in some style, for a while he had quite a happy life of it. But his father-in-law was one of that class to which his own father belonged--he had a reputation for wealth, but the "KE AND UNLIKE. 493 substance was wanting; a failure and breaking up of his domestic establishment, threw Junius and his young wife on their own resources. They are boarding in a fashionable establishment; but how he supports the expense is a matter of surprise to some, and they do not hesitate to say he cannot stand it long. Not one dollar, however, of his earn- ings has ever gone to his mother or sisters. What his end will be need not be a peradventure. "He that turneth away from his father or his mother, and setteth light by them," has a curse hanging over his pathway that must, sooner or later, shroud it in darkness and sorrow.- Somerindyke soon ran his course-he died by the hands of a companion in a drunken frolic; a few thousand dollars re- mained for his widow. With this she was enabled to form a new connection, much to the relief-of her mother and the other members of the family at home. Mary Roff married Dr. Hazzard, who, not finding sufficient practice in the city to meet the demands of his wife's expen- sive habits, removed to the far West, where if he could get but small pay, he would at least be out of the reach of temp- tation to extravagance. A log-house did not require much furniture, and where lindsey wolsey and checked aprons were the common dress of neighbors, silks and satins would afford too strong a contrast. Emma and Julia were yet with their mother, and with clanged habits and circumstances, and above all, with the better views and feelings of their mother, it can be hoped their characters will be established on a more correct and substantial foundation than that of their elder brother and sisters. James Beaufort and Mr. Gaines have of late had business together, which has occupied them more or less for some weeks; they,have held long consultations with lawyers; they have been up and spent a day with Judge Jones, whom the reader may remember as-connected with the early part of this history, and they have been up to Pleasant Vale, and particularly have they been together over the fields and for- ests belonging to Beech Wood. What their business was none but themselves and a confidentiallawyer could tell- they did not mention it; but it was evidently all of a friendly nature. Mr. Gaines seemed in good spirits, and it may as well be whispered here, that the gentleman was about to take unto himself a new wife, and the secret of their transactions may as well be known to the reader although, page: 494-495[View Page 494-495] "4 L TAK AND TUNLIKE. for special reasons, it was kept from many that were to be personally interested. Mr. Gaines had been aware when he purchased the "' Beech Wood" estate that-there was a defect in the title, but as at the time it was not supposed the matter could be contested by the family of the Beauforts, he was willing to risk the sum lie paid for it. He had become tired of it; the company which he was subject to in the summer was not now an agreeable item in the fact of a country residence ; his views of life had changed considerably in the course Qf a few years; and, to suln up the whole, he had no true taste for the coun- try. He had become very intimate with James, especially since the death of Mr. Roff; and he had become very fond of him. And although James had never intimated to him any intention of endeavoring to regain his inheritance, yet Mr. Gaines well knew it would be most desirable for the young man to be able to place his mother and sisters in their old home. He therefore opened the subject of his own accord, and in a frank and manly way proposed that they should have a true statement of the matter laid before erninejnt counsel and find out as near as possible how strong a case could be made. He also told James that he was willing to make a sacrifice upon the cost of it at any rate. The opinion of counsel was not unanimous, but a strong presumption was on the side of the Beaufort claim-attended, however, it must be by a great expense if carried into chancery. Under these circumstances, he made a liberal offer. James at once agreed to the proposition, and knowing that a large tract of woodland connected with the property could be spared without detriment, as well as one hundred acres of pasture land, through Mr. qaines' agency he disposed of them, so as materially to reduce the sum he would have to pay. His mind was now at rest. The great result he had strenuously aimed at he felt was accomplished. His mother could again take possession of her home, and with an inde- pendence secured for the rest of her days; for although he had no design of turning farmer, the proceeds of it, without much care on her part, would afford a liberal maintenance. Mr. Blauvelt had, after supplying the place which he had been requested to fill for one year, at the suggestion of the professors at Princeton, gone on a missionary tour to the West. It was their opinion that a young man would be greatly benefited by such an excursion, and be better quali- fied in body and mind to fill a local pastorate. He had spent i^- "KE AND UNLIKE. 495 one year ;in such labor, and on his return, learning Mr. Gaines and his daughter were at Beech Wood, of-course was not long in finding his way thither. The young minister who had filled Mr. Langstaff's pulpit for the three years past had worked himself out of the affection of the people by impru- dent management, and had just been dismissed. Mr.-Blau- velt, for palt of the Sabbath, assisted Mr. Langstaff, who now, as they were without a minister, officiated for his old congregation. The people were much pleased, and earnestly requested that Mr. Blauvelt would officiate for them the next Sabbath, and still the next. A unanimous feeling that he was the man they wanted, together with the decided opinion of their old pastor, " that the young man had the root of the matter in him," resulted in a cordial invitation to him to be their minister. It was -accepted, to the great joy of Miss Gaines, who had become much attached to the place and the people. THer father would have been glad that his future son-in-law should fill a pulpit in the city, and to have had his daughter nearer to him; but he made no objections, only that she should never occupy the uncomfortable building which had been appropriated for a parsonage, and therefore requested Blauvelt th look out for the best location he could find near the church, and to "figure out a house to suit himself and Marianne, and it should be put up forthwith." Mr. Bustle had become quite nervous under Dr. Sampson's preaching, and even Mrs. Bustle began to feel that the Sab- bath services were not edifying, "' not to her." She and Mr. Bustle had both been highly gratified with their stay at Pleasant Vale. She was in love with Mrs. Beaufort and her girls, and Mr. Bustle had become attached to old Mr. Langr- staff; he had held long conversations with him, and fo:lnd that their' sentiments on the most important Foints were in harmony. Mr. Bustle, too, found among the men of his age in that place persons with whom he assimilated better than with most of his acquaintance in the city. All this, added to the fact that he was quite dissatisfied with Dr. Sampson, and not in very good favor with some of his brethren in the Ses- sion, for reasons which the reader can well comprehend, and not disposed to remove his relation to- any other church in the city, caused both these good people to think seriously of making a move to the country, and -Pleasant Vale appeared to them the most desirable of any they could think of. When the announcement was made toS them, therefore, that Mr. Blauvelt had accepted a call there, the matter was de- page: 496-497[View Page 496-497] "6 LIKE AND UNLIKE. cided. They had heard him preach, and they had seen much of him in private. To Pleasant Vale they must go. And Mr. Bustle and his wife have taken board with a family in the place, and he is erecting a neat and substantial residence, where he and Mrs. Bustle expect to end their days. Matilda has been for some months freed from those causes of annoyance to which she was subject from the presence of her elder cousins; her aunt's mind, too, has become more calm--she is not indeed perfectly reconciled to the connection between her niece and James Beaufort, and cannot altoge- ther help feeling that he has been an intruder upon the prospects of her family--yet she has ceased to contend against it. Matilda has done what she could thus far to make her aunt independent, and has promised, the moment she is of age, to settle a sufficient income upon her so that the rest of her days may be free from annoyance on that account. And Mrs. Rff- knows that James has not only assented to this, but was the first to urge its accomplishment. This- has done much to soften her feelings toward him ; she treats him with civility when he visits there, and perhaps struggles with herself against the prejudices she has so long allowed to possess her mind; but evil passions long indulged are not readily eradicated-they sometimes prove tormen- tors, even to the true Christian, to the end of his earthly career. Matilda has been busily engaged for some days in prepa- ration for leaving the home of her aunt. She and James have been out together frequently, and the business they have been upon is well understood by Mrs. Roff; but not a word has passed between her and her niece in reference to it. New trunks have been brought into the house, too, and ele- gant dresses have been sent there and deposited in Miss Matilda's room. Julia and Emma are in fine spirits, and they sometimes go out with their cousin and come home with flaming accounts of what they have seen and with buoyant hopes in reference to the fuiture. "Oh, mamma!" said Julia one day, " will it not be delight- ful to have Cousin Matilda so near us-only in the next street! and such a pleasant house as she has got; not a great house either, it is only two stories; but it is handsomely fin- ished, and such -a beautiful yard and everything so con- venient?" "She can afford it, Julia-she can afford to have everything in fine style." "KE AND UNLIKE. 497 6' Oh! but, mamma, she has got the plainest furniture, al- though everything is neat and substantial; but is it not strange she does not have Brussells carpeting? I should think she would." "I suppose she does not fancy them, and I think it is just as well." "I asked Cousin Matilda why she did not get a house down town-a large, handsome house; and what do you think she replied, mamma?" "I suppose she said because she did not need a large house, and rents up here were cheaper." "No. All the reason she gave was, that she wished to be near us, where she could run in every day and see you, or have you and us come round and see her. Is she not kind? I do think she is a dear cousin." Mrs. Roff did not reply, but the tears had started; she laid down her work and covered her face. "Do you not think, mamma, you can spare me to go to the wedding? Cousin Matilda asked me yesterday if I would not like to go if you could spare me? She wants me to be one of her bridesmaids." Mrs. Roff dropped the handkerchief, and looked at her daughter. "Yes, Julia, you may go. I wish I could bring my mind to it, and go, too. Matilda has been a dear, good girl. She has clung to me and mine through all our trouble; she has done for me what my own children-I mean the elder ones- would' not have done, even if they had the ability. I love her, I shall always love her, and every one will love her. I don't wonder James Beaufort loves her, and I don't wonder either that she loves him. But Ican't see them married; I know it will work up my feelings. I shall be happier, though, to know that one of my children, at least, should be there. Yes, Julia, if your cousin has asked you, you may go." "' Oh, dear mamma!" and Julia caught her mother round her neck and kissed her, "oh, I am so glad, I do want to go so." "Well, -that's settled then; but you must lose no time in getting ready. Is the house almost in order?" "Oh, yes, mamma; the carpets were put down yesterday, and the ,servants are there. Only to think! Sophie, Aunt Sterling's old cook, is there, and Aunt Grizzle! and they seem as happy as they can possibly be; they are going up to the wedding, too 1" page: 498-499[View Page 498-499] "8 LIKE AND UNLIKE. Mrs. Roff was silent again, a contest was going on in her feelings--the naming of Aunt Grizzle had caused it. Some old bad thoughts were troubling her; she knew they were wrong, and that she was wrong to indulge them; but the most she could do just then, was to keep them to herself. She was certainly trying to subdue the evil of her heart. One more scene, and our story will close. It opens at Beech Wood. It has been a glorious day, one of the loveliest days of the beautiful month of October. Miss Gaines had been very busy, in company with Matilda and the Misses Beaufort. SMr. Gaines had been very busy too, for this was his last day at Beech Wood, and he had manv things to pack up to be in readiness for leaving. Mr. Blauvelt was also there, and in the latter part of the day, Captain William Thompson, in company with James Beaufort, rode up and made a call, and then walked off, as James said, "to show the captain the beautiful views." The house seemed full of happiness; it was vocal with the melody of joyous hearts and sweet voices- of lovely girls. The evening was ushered in at an early hour, for lights appeared from every window before darkness had settled upon the earth. The two large parlors were in special order, and well dressed ladies and gentlemen were taking their places, and conversing in 4' sotto voce." In a central part of one of the rooms, sat Mrs. Beautfrt, richly dressed, and beside her, Mrs. Bustle with Mr. Bustle at her side, and near to them, a little forward of the rest, the good old Mr. Lang- staff, looking very happy, and bowing his head to all around him and to each guest that entered. The rooms at length are comfortably filled, and a train is seen emerging from the hall, and making its way toward that part of the room where Mr. Langstaff is seated. lIe immediately rises, and the beautiful group spreads out in line before him; it was a splendid array of youth and beauty, dressed in the neatest bridal attire. James Beaufort and his long-loved Matilda were first asked by the reverend gentle- man to clasp each other's right hand. "You, the bridegroom, do now, in the presence of Almighty God and of these witnesses, take her whom you hold by the right hand, as your lawful wedded wife, and you do solemnly promise to be unto her a true, faithful and loving husbhnd- to support her in sickness and in health-and in all things to conduct toward her as it becomes a Christian husband so to do, until death shall separate you from her? "KE AND UNLIKE. 499 "And you, the bride, take him wlbom you now hold by the right hand to be your lawful wedded husband, and you promise to be unto him a true, faithful, loving, and obedient wife, and to do all that in you lies to cherish and comfort him as it becomes a Christian wife, so to do? "And now you, having severally thus pledged yourselves to God and .to each other-I pronounce you man and wife- t and may God gite you a happy life together here, and a joy- ful entrance at last into His heavenly kingdom." The reverend gentleman then stepped in fiont of the adjoin- ing couple--Wiliamn Blauvelt and Marianne Gaines-repeat- ing sulbstantially the same form; and then, in trembling tones, the good old man addressed a prayer to lim who had insti- tuted this blessed rite, " that He would crown this union with His favor and love." Friends now clustered round to offer their congratulations to the happy pairs, and for some time there was quite a crowd gathered in their vicinity. When Mr. Langstaff was seen to step toward the door, and take the hand of a colored person who had been standing with the domestics of the establishment, watching the ceremony. She was a comely- looking black, with a full person, and smooth, round face; she was dressed somewhat beyond what is generally looked for in the class to which she belonged, for she had on a black silk gown, a white gauze handkerchief, and an embroidered cap with flowinrg tabs. Mr. Langstaff did not know her, and as it was a matter of conscience with him to notice every one who came within the bounds of his parish, he had spoken to Mrs. Beaufort about her, and the hearty manner in which he took her hand, showed that the account he had received must have been very favorable. -"I see, my good woman, you are deeply interested for our young friends." The tears were running over her round, honest cheeks. "Oh, sir, I 'tended her many times when she was a baby- many times-and I thank the Lord I live to see this night. I can die contented now. She has got a blessed man for her husband. Oh, sir, the Lord is so good!" "And you belong in New York?" "I did, sir; but timles is not very good there, and for a lone body, it's 'spensive livin', on account of rent. But that ain't'all, massa; you see I could get along, so long as my health is spared. But somehow, it seems pleasanter to me to be among them as I love and as feel kind to me, and as a page: 500-501[View Page 500-501] 500 LIsE AND UNLIKE. good lady has made me an offer to live wid her and do what I'm a mind to in the kitchen, I 'scepted the offer-that's it, massa." "Then you are going to live among us?" "Yes, massa, I am with that lady that's standing there and talkin' with Miss Matilda, and has got sich bright eyes." "Ay, our new friend, Mrs. Bustle!" u"Yes, massa, I have thought it all round, and as Mr. Beaufort will be here off and on, and his dear wife will be here a good deal, and there will be so many here that I love, I think I shall like it, if the Lord pleases." As Dinah made no advances toward the circle where her loved ones were, as soon as they could, with propriety, leave their friends, they came up to her; but no sooner did they put out their hands toward her, than she covered her face, and moved off through the hall. She wanted to have a good cry, and she had sense enough to know that their presence was no place for tears. James was now tapped on the shoulder by Mr. Gaines. "Now, Beaufort, now's the time, the folks are all gather- ing at the supper-table in the next room; there is no one near her but your sisters and Marianne-now come." James, with his beautiful bride hanging on his arm, then followed Mr. Gaines up to where his mother was standing. "Mrs. Beaufort," said Mr. Gaines, "I shall be obliged to ask the favor of you to accommodate we with lodgings for the night." "With great pleasure, Mr. Gaines, such as I have; but you will find them, I fear, rather cramped. We will do the best for you we can, though, and be very happy to do so." "You know, I suppose, madam, that we are all under your roof at present?" "My roof! pardon me, sir, I do not comprehend you." "Your son can explain it all." Mrs. Beaufort turned to James for an explanation; he took her hand. "Dear mother, you are home again. All that you see around you is your own, once more." Mrs. Beaufort looked at her son with intense interest a moment, she seemed at a loss what to say; something apparently troubled her; but a glance at Matilda broke the spell; the latter, leaving her husband, threw her arms around the neck of Mrs. Beaufort. Matilda from that glance had read her heart. "KE AND UNLIKE. 501 "No, my dear mother, I assure you it has been done entirely by his own means; he would not let me contribute, as I would gladly have done; your own dear James has redeemed your home, and we are all guests." The news was as unexpected to the sisters of James as to their mother; the moment they understood the case, there was a rush toward him ; tears of joy, mingled with the fond embraces of the mother and sisters, while his lovely bride feasted her heart in gazing upon the noble youth to whom she had just bound herself for life. "He is my brother, too," said the young bride of William Blauvelt. "I claim a sister's share in him." "Alld I fi'ankly own your right to do so," said James, taking her hand, and giving her a brother's token. "' I have never taken such a liberty before-may it prove the seal of a life-enduring friendship." "And what does this all mean, my children?" said Mr. Langstaff, as he came up to the circle and noticed the emotion which was so manifest just then. A few words from Mrs. Beaufort, in broken accents, caused the warm- hearted, old man to raise his hands as he exclaimed- "The Lord's name be praised! My dear madam, you can now say, The-Lord hath heard my cry, and set my feet in a large place.' And you, my dear child," turning to Matilda, and taking her hand, "I congratulate you most heartily that you are united to one whom I most truly believe will make a faithful husband, for he has been a devoted son; the promise annexed to the fifth commandment is a rich inheritance. "Blessed are they that keep his commandments." THE END. page: 502-503 (Advertisement) [View Page 502-503 (Advertisement) ] NEW BOOKS And New Editions Recently Issued by CARLETON, PUBLISHER, (LATE RUDD & CARLETON.), "8 BR OADWA Yd Y, NEW YORK. N B.-I-E FUBLSHER, upon receipt of the price in advance, will send any of the following Books, by mail, POSTAGE FREE, to any part of the United States. This convenient and very safe mode may be adopted when the neighboring Book. sellers are not supplied with the desired work. State name and address in full. The Cloister and the Hearth. 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