Kate Callender, or, School-girls of '54
page: (TitlePage) [View Page (TitlePage) ] KAT'CE NDER DHOOL GIRLS OF "54 ,'- THE WOMEN OF TO-DAY. I, -'! Br A4NNA L. WHTE. BOSTON : PUBLISHED BY THE AUTH R: 1870. ' page: 0-3[View Page 0-3] 'Entered, according to Act of Congress, in' the year 1870, by'" "UCY A. WHTE, In the Cterk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. . ' STER-OTYED BY C. JW PITERS + SON PREFACE. FROM information that I have received concerning facts, I am enabled to present the subsequent pages more as a true story than a work of fiction. Following somewhat in the'course of a certain talented lady, I have devoted a small portion of my book to "revelation and vindication." And now, in answer to the ' question as to why I have made this disclosure," I 'will reply, in the Very words of my illistrious predecessor, -- ( Because I considered it my duty to make it." The name of that person whom I call in these pages Arthur . Richards was formerly associated with mine as contributor to- the same magazine; and in those by-gone days .his character ranked a far above:the" average standard of mankind as regards virtue and uprightness, - ' Of my heroine, Kate Callender, I canjsay that she is-nown and loved by a friend who was once a former schoolmate of mine; and I am fully justified in the delineation of the chaiaoter of my heroine by information received fromh that friend. Hwish to be- lieve that there is still something of purity, of virtue, and loveli- ness in this world of ours; and for this reason I shall preserve- my faith in the moral goodness of those two people whose i motives and conduct I may have defended in these pa ge : I My ambition and hopes are moderate. I do not expect the-se "vindications " of mine will convulse, two continents, but shall i - page: 4-5 (Table of Contents) [View Page 4-5 (Table of Contents) ] %:-{[ PREFACE. be:well satisfied if they thorouhly shake but one. As much as I desire fainme; id, even more than this, as mueh as I love those' filthy greenba&c, that come to me occasionally, too Oofen redohhnt with the vile aroma of nearly every nationality under the sun, - still, I would rather move quietly on in this mundane sphere with my praie' unsung and my purse unreplen- ished, than to realize a projitable and unenviable notoriety. "Go, little book! From this my solitude, I cast thee on the waters. Go thy ways; : And if, as I believe, thy vein is good, The world will find thee after many days." -o CONTENTS I PAGE. , OHi^Tifite-s L -?! &Tlq MUMMERf n0 O CHAV9 IV. CHAPTER V.? V i:: rAy ATB.. .. ....mes 87 C OHAFTglt VIL-- IE STRANGER . . . . . . . . * . * * * 4 AE HTEl-a ( AMBLINDE . R .... . 8i: OHAiTlrmK HV. .1 :BCEIIEP r ' r 818'; CHAPTiR IV. , OHA 'Mitc Xi VARUATIONS . . . . .. , . ** * , . 72J HAPTKK X. X1L EDERIC A . . .. . .W * * * * 9 ^ M VIAE100LIA NCHAiDTMBK xn as ISCH!EF .,.G COO AND B. , T: : . . 8'4 CHAlt . .-.M mSBYIRANOm ....... ; .' .- i -!-:? ' ' OHa'l'E VII .... :E*IIRIC BNOI9 . ., . . . . . . . '$2 '-:: ' ' OlinTimX ',PARAGONS ........ , .' , : page: 6 (Table of Contents) -7[View Page 6 (Table of Contents) -7] 6' (. CONTENTS. *. ', '* ' ^. PAGE. CHAPTER XM.1 DEPRESSION. . . .... . *94 OHAPTER 'XIV, *HOPE , . . . . . , , . 99 CHAPTER XVI, MARRIAGE . . * * * , . 113 HAPTEXVII. A SMALL CLOUD . . . . . . . . . 1201 CHAPTEIR 2VIll I WORLDLY WISDOM . . . . . .. . . 130 CHAPTER. xTrx, THE MNISTER PLOTTING . , 134 CHAPTER XX AN OVER AST , . . . . 143 cHAPTER XXI. TuE MNISTERS' ELOPEMENT . . . . . . 154 CHA ' PTER XXII * RECONcT AVION . . . . .160 CHAPTER XXIII I THE BROKEN LINK . . .. ,.. . , . 169 CHAPTER XX1V. JEALOUSY . . . . . . . . * , . -s180 . , CHAFTE XXW. AN OLD FR XJND BEHND'THE FOOTLIGHTS . . .. . , . 185 CHAPTER XVJL. SUNSHNE THROUGH TBE CLOtUDS . . . . . . . 192 *' ' CHA1PTER VJ!LI i UP WrTH TEE TrIMES. . S. - . , , 199 , , KATE CAOLENDER. CFTAP'L t3fCI e - COHAPTE I. I WATERFORD ACADEMY. . . 1: HE young ladies who were' pupils at the Water- ford Academy were leisurely walking towards ' their homes, chatting together in that happy manner in which girls are wont to do when about to enjoy a few days' relaxation from study. The chief topic of conversation was the recent marriage of the principal of the academy with one of-the assistants. Although the event had long been looked for, it was not strange- that the marriage of the teachers should call forth anew the comments of their pupils, and that these young girls, whose sharp eyes had been for some tine. open to the state of affairs between Mr. Thorning and Miss Stanley, the teacher of French, should be by no means chary of expressing their opinions, now that the union was consummated. They had done what they considered a pleasant duty, by subscribing money to buy a .silver tea-service for the married couple, and, perhaps for this very reason, 7 page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] KARATE CALLENDER. felt justified in indulging a little gossip about the affairs of the wedded pair, as soon as they (the pupils) were away from the academic walls. "I am very thankful that I have not become Mrs. Thorning, and been taken to the cars by the stage- driver. When I am married, it shall be to a person who can afford to buy me an elegant wedding-ring; *I will have a gay wedding-party, with at least eight bridesmaids; and I will start on my tour in a barouche drawn by six white'horses. -:The newspapers shall be filled with descriptions of the proceedings. Every lady " will ask, Who is the bride?' and you girls will be ready to boast of having been- schoolmates of the for- tunate one," This extravagant talk of pretty Matty Davidson was received with shouts of laughter from the other girls, who all expressed hopes that her expectations would be realized; that they would be invited to the wedding, and share in the honor of being her friends. The talk was continued in much the same strain; nearly all of them expressing their ideas with regard to mar- riage prospects. During this animated discussion, Kate Callender, one - of the party, remained silent; but, to' all appearance, she was listening attentively. Her large brown eyes had a thoughtful expression. The other girls were accustomed to say of her at such times, "Look at Kate: her eyes are wide open, but she seems neither to wink nor to see any thing." Taking advantage of a pause, jn the talk, Kate, all at once, began to speak. "Girls," said she, "this ^ ' ,' WATERFORD ACADEMY. , 9 marrying is a humdrum affair,-at the best. It matters little to me whether I am married as plain Miss Stan- ley has been to plain- Mr. Thorning, or whether some nabob comes for me with presents of diamonds, and takes me away in his coach-and-six. I am not willing, anyhow, to dwindle into the insignificance of a married woman. When you read a romance, do you not find that it usually comes to an end as soon as the heroine is married? Why is it- so? . Only because whatever may occur after that event is comparatively of little importance. "Do you remember Nelly? and what a romantic n yet jolly companion she was? and how you all envied her when she was married? You probably have not forgotten your calls on her three months afterwards, listening to her talk on domestic affairs, and examin- ing her drawers of sheets and of table-linen. You must also remember that Charley Dupont, the husband -of three months, whom you all, at one time, thought so splendid, came in looking rather ill-natured, and said he wished they could have tea earlier, in a cross tone, that he tried to conceal -from the company+ but was unable wholly to do. '.* "Nearly all of you expressed the same opinion,- that Nelly had become very dull and uninteresting; and that you were glad you were not in her place, but were still free, happy-hearted girls. * None of you have any reason- to expect that you will be better sit- uated, if you marry, -than she; is. I prefer to be a romantic young girl, and then a romantic young wo- man. When I am what is called an old maid, I shall page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] f0 KATE C ALT LEDER. try to put on a look of sweet, sad resignation and sen- timenitalism, as ' if I had loved and lost,' that will make me interesting still. But I have an ambition beyond all this. I would make for myself a name and a fame that I can enjoy while I live, and that will flourish long after I am dead. I aspire to be an au- thoress or an actress. "I would counterfeit the great tragedian: Speak, and look back, and pry on every side; Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, Pretending deep suspicion. Ghastly looks Are at my service, like enforced smiles; And both are ready in their offices, At any time, to grace my stratagems.'" ' Kate Callender at this time was somewhat conceited. We seldom find anlly person more self-satisfied than a newly-fledged author,' aspiring to literary ;honors. Kate had written for a magazine, and tasted the joy of seeing her own ideas in print. The publication did not pay, certainly; but her articles had always been accepted, while many other less fortunate (?) effusions were rejected. She was often stimulated and encour- aged by a little implied praise from the editor; as, "The sketch by Elsie Greenwood is well written, and " is to be found in the present number. We shall be glad to hear from her whenever she can send ius anl article." 'Kate was by nature proud and independent; and these editorial compliments tended to increase these feelings. She reasoned with herself, that many others {, had began in this same small way, who had afterwards WATERFORD ACADEMY. " distinguished themselves in the literary republic; and why should she not equal, or even excel, any of them? ' The girls had now gathered together under a large pine-tree, - a place they were in the habit of resorting to whenever they had any interesting subject to 'dis- cuss. This rendezvous had been selected on account - of its seclusion, as well as its distance from the acad-- emy. Here they felt at liberty to talk of their private af- fairs, and to speak words of approbation, or the oppo- site, of the management of the school, as occasion might require. Fanny Fletcher, a roguish girl, who had listened to Kate's long' harangue, now laughed uproariously, and said, "I know what Kate aspires to: - she will be an advocate for ' woman's rights,' and will soon enter into the partnership of Lucy Stone & Co." "No: you are mistaken there," replied Kate. "My notions regarding that subject are all anti. During recess to-day, I scribbled off an article that I may prepare for print, which expresses my opinion some- what." The girls would see it. Eder school-bag was ran- sacked; and the manuscript found-: and though Kate declared that it had been hastily written, and' re- quired revision and numerous corrections, the major- ity were for having it read aloud; to -which Kate finally assented. Margaret Morrison was appointed reader, and from her lofty stand-point thus- be- gan- ' , . page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 KATE CATLLWNDER. "A scene anticipated in the 'golden age,'when woman's rights shall be established:- i "The women have assembled for the purpose of having one of their periodical consultations, and of keeping up the spirit of reform, so that the power they have obtained by so much labor shall not be lost by their negligence; for they believe, with man, that ' liberty is the reward of eternal vigilance.' ' "A "The hall for the meeting is densely thronged with maids and matrons, whose slovenly appearance be- tokens any thing but reformation ; for, alas! politics and momentous affairs of state have engrossed so much of, their attention, that they find no time to devote to the embellishment of their persons. "We look in vain for the former lords of creation in this vast assembly; for it is one of the recently ac- quired privileges of the women, that men should be excluded from the feminine councils. "First rises Mrs. Baxter, the presiding officer of the meeting. 'In a loud voice, nasally modulated, she an,- - nounces that one of the sisterhood is about to deliver a lecture. Moved by curiosity, each head in the au-i dience is eagerly stretched forward, as far as length of neck will admit, in order to obtain a glimpse of the speaker. She is a tall, coarse personage, with a mas- culine expression of face, of which the nose is the most important feature. It seems to crave public notice by extending far beyond ordinary dimensions. A pair of small gray eyes are nearly concealed by the: overhanging brows, and seem by their unobtrusive modesty to acknowledge meekly the supremacy of f - * A - ' ^ WATERPORD ACADEMY. 13 nose. Her lecture is upon the happy emancipation of woman, and is delivered in a strangely discordant. voice, which, beginning in low tones, gradually be- comes louder and louder, till at last it resembles a distressing yell. This soul-disturbing, head-racking eloquence receives the unanimous applause of the meeting. Her gestures are uncouth; and her long arm, raised on high, frequently brings her hand down on the desk with a startling effect'.- This motion causes the frail curls which hang about her face like- Medusa's snakes to elongate thlemselves, and threaten the other sex, if any were so bold as to enter. here, with instant destruction by their fangs, if they were not metamorphosed into stone by a sight of the head. Man, luckily, would not wish to endanger himself by interfering with her rights. At the close of the lec- ture, the hall resounds with feminine cheers in honor of the speaker. "Matters appertainihng to their freedom, and to the difficulties of maintaining it, are then' discussed and expatiated on. One outraced woman relates that her' rebellious husband has dared to dispute 'Iher right to reign, and shown resistance to female authority. -For this atrocious conduct he receives their, unanimous. condemnation; and measures are taken to punish or subdue such atrocity." "Good! excellent!" shouted several of the girls. "Kate understands well how to treat her subject." Not so thougllht'the reader, Margaret Morrison, who had maintained throughout an injured, indignant air; and she immediately responded, (' Kate has tried to page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] to4 I EATE C ALLENDER. , draw a ludicrous picture of a subject of which she has no knowledge whatever. I have always observed that the persons most inclined to oppose and ridicule the woman's movement are those who know the least about it. I don't believe Kate has ever heard a lecture on the subject." Kate acknowledged that she had not. -Her idea had been suggested by hearing a woman lecture on phrenology. The lecturer's looks, manner, and voice were' just what she had been describing. The lecturer had also a very unprofessional way of ex- A-mining heads, fumbling round the hair of her sub-. jects very much as a hen scratches for worms for her chickens. Kate said " the lecturer's manners were very disagreeable, and had impressed on her mind' the idea that a woman could grace any position better than , that of a public speaker." "Now, please, Kate," said Margaret, " do not ex- press your opinion or write upon this subject. again, till-you have seen and heard Lucy Stone. She is yet young; her face is round, and her cheeks are rosy; her eyes are bright and pleasing, her voice is soft and persuasive. She is, giving up her youth and talents, estranging her personal friends, and- sacrificing her / popularity, for this cause, which is to elevate our posi- tion.. But I do not wish to take up too much of your time, and will finish reading Kate's article, if you de- sire it." - - They- requested her to go on, and she continued the reading: . But, hark! there is a sound of nervous, tramping feet; and the privacy of this female meeting is being invaded. Behold their indignation, as each WATERFORD ACADEMY. 15 maiden and matron places herself on the defensive: but this warlike array is useless; for theintruder is only a harmless, inoffensive man, the worthy spouse of Mrs. Baxter, whose dilapidated 'dicky' tells a sad tale of neglect- and whose tongue utters an account of screaming babes at home, which is still sadder. A song, all about woman's rights, is then sung, and the meeting disperses. Mrs. Baxter proudly takes the lead, and her dutiful husband meekly follows his lord and master. But in an unguarded moment, as he beholds her apparently forgetful of her usual vigilance, he quietly vanishes into a beer-saloon, where he may drown all sense of his misfortunes, and forget for the time the storm which will most surely await his arrival home. "O you who would thus aspire to a situation'be.- yond what Nature has intended you for! do you ever think that you are endowed with the responsible power of ruling a household? In asserting what you choose to call your rights, will you not cause man to forget your right to his love?" This was received with almost unanimous ap- plause, Kate said," That last clause may suit you, girls; but'you know very well, from what I have said before about marriage, .that it is not exactly my opinion. In writing, I often find it necessary, in order to make the article passable and give it a moral, to add something that does not exactly accord with my own sentiments." . "' It makes very little difference,"' Margaret quickly * - e\ page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 16 KATE CALLENDER. said, whether any of us are married or not. As long as we occupy the position we now do in the social: circle, we shall be of very little consequence, anyhow. My intention now is neither to marry nor to not marry: but I pray that power may be given to me, either by voice or pen, to aid Lucy-Stone in the. great work she has- undertaken; and, il the event of success, I shall feel that my life had not been wholly in vain." *The discussion was drifting wholly beyond the com- prehension of most of the company: they were much more interested in their beaux, ribbons, and laces, than in any reliowh they might -acquire by political strife. Besides, they had lingered so long by the way, that it was past their usual dinller-hour; and they began to feel- more interest ill satisfying the natural cravings of hunger than in discussing matrimony or the rights of women. But the words -of the school- girl, Margaret Morrison, were prophetic eof the deeds of the woman. Long years after, when these gay children were changed into sober wives and mothers, or into digni- fied bild maids, hearing frequently from their old school- -mate, Margaret, through the paper-she edited, and the lectures she delivered (for she worked hard, hand in hand with Lucy Stone, is still working with her, for the great cause to which they have both devoted their lives), they recalled the memorable events of-that day. And after those long years there came, also, tidings of Kate .Callender. Her name was mingled with onle of the most exciting tragedies of the day. Many of WATERFORD ACADEMY. i7 them had no knowledge of her whereabouts; none of tlhem had forgotten her: and, when they recalled the bjight promise of their gay, talented, and- much-loved schoolmate, tears of sorrow coursed down their cheeks at the sad fulfilment. 2 , , page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] CHAPTER II. PLANS. RICHARID CALLENDER and his wife Mary had begun -early the journey of life together. They had neither enjoyed any great prosperity, nor'met with any great misfortune. By toiling early and late, they had jnanaged to keep their little place, though not to pay for it entirely; and they had reared com- fortably and respectably their three children. Mr. Callender had always given his children to un- derstand that he could do nothing more for them than to give them a common-school -education; and, after that,.they must manage for themselves. In view of this, John, their only sop, a steady, quiet youth, had obtained a clerkship; and Hannah, their eldest daugh- ter, had a prospect of teaching in the district school. ( But what shall we do with Kate?" was a ques- tion often propounded by Mr. Callender to his wife; and the wife would often ask the same thing of her husband. Of one thing the mother was pretty sure: that she could make her of very little use about domestic affairs. When there was any thing special to do, Kate was sure to be among the missing; or, if found, had something of great importance that 18t - / - PLANS. 19 required to be done for herself. Kate was a flighty thing, and loved to romp out of doors, free of re- straint; and, if her mother had company, she never dared call on her, fearfil of the condition in which she might present herself. She had just graduatedfrom the school of the vil- lage, and had received great praise,from Mr. Shat- tuck, of the examining committee, for scholarship In conversation with Mr. Callender, a few days after,* he- said, "Why don't you educate your daughteri? She is smart and talented, and may be an honor to you some day. Send her to the academy of the neighboring tolln, and let her receive all the benefit that institution can give her." Mr. Callender- pon- dered over this advice. That his daughter was "smart," he well knew. Sometimes lie thought her too smart, after he had had an argument with her, and had come off second best, as frequently hap-' pened. He considered that she might be fitted for a teacher, and, perhaps, get a situation in the academy. But would she accept it? Ah! there was a doubt. He had heard her say more than once that she would pull weeds, rake and pitch hay, even; but she would not sink into the insignificance of a " schoolma'am." Mr. Callender talked it over with his wife. She thought that Kate might hereafter be willing to be- come a teacher: she was too young then to have any decided opinion about it, and would probably'change her mind whenl she became older. The next question was, Would she be willing to enter the academy? She had been used to having her own page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] -20 KATE CALLENDER. way, and was pnot easily -influenced when;..shel had made up her mind to the contrary. Her mother said ihat she seemed perfectly satisfied with the way of life she was living. She had often urged her to stay in the house, and work upon some dresses for herself, and had -promised her new ones even: but Kate would reply, that she preferred old clothes, and wanted only one good dress for Sundays; she would only be tearing and spoiling them, if she wore better ones. When they had finished breakfast the following morning, Mr. Callender said, - "Kate, how would you like to commence at the Waterford Academy next term?" Kate was overjoyed: she said she would like it very much. Fall Fletcher and Mag Morrison were going too; and she would not be among strangers. 'She had thought of it Irerself, she said, but did- not venture to propose the matter, as she did not know as her father would feel able to meet the expense of board and tuition. Mr. Callender said, "I can spare something for your advancement, as your brother and sister are in a fair way to do something for themselves; and I expect to be repaid by seeing you a teacher in the academy, or filling some eqUally'useful position." Kate winced at this a little, but hoped she might * be able to do him credit, and herself too, in some way. Kate Callender had pride, thouglih her friends were not generally aware of it; and there were times when a slumbering ambition awould arise, and she would long for a destiny brighter than that of the people sutr- lrounding her. Though she had formed no particular A. PLANS. 21 plan or purpose, yet she considered an education as a necessary step towards the glory and renown for which she, was longing. Busy were the days that elapsed before the begin- ning of the term; and Kate was willing, for once, to take a needle in hand, and assist in the necessary preparation to complete her outfit. The three girls met often, to consult over their fu- ture plans and. prospects, and rejoice that they were all going together. Kate felt somewhat saddened when the day arrived for leaving home. She was dearly attached to her home, to her parents, and her brother and sistdr; and, as the moment of departure'drew nigh, the tears filled her eyes. Her mother tried to cheer her with words of encouragement and comfort, though she, too, felt sad at parting with her child; for, in spite of her way- wardness sometimes, Kate was the pride of both mother and -father. Kate felt a little more cheerful when Fanny and Margaret came in, laughing'and talking, equipped in their travelling-suits. They were all going in Mr. Callender's large carry-all, which was an antique affair, handed down to Mr. Callender from his an- cestors, and which was seldom used except onlSun- days. John hurried in the trunks and thethehegirls; knowing very well that the -fewer parting words spoken the better . "Be sure not to moisten your handkerchief, Katy," called. John, -who surmised, from appearances, that something of the kind- was about to happen. page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] '22 KATE CATLLTENDER. A cold, drizzling, spring rain, mingled with snow, had set in when they arrived at Judge Abbott's door, where a boarding-place -had been engaged for them. It was not the kind of weather likely to raise depressed spirits; and Kate's heart was full nearly to bursting when her father bade her " good-by," and turned from 'the door. She had seldom'been from home;, and had associated with but few people besides her own friends and relatives.- She was pretty well aware, too, from the comments which her brother and sister were wont 'f to make of her, that -her manners were somewhat awk- ward; which thought did not tend to create a comfort- able feeling. Mag and Fanny, too, had ceased to be talkative, and had reached the same state of despond- ency. When the bell rang to call them to tea, they consulted together whether they had better go or not, as they had .no appetite for food. Margaret thought it would look better to go down, at any rate, even if they did not feeliany hunger. Our friends managed to worry thlrough the meal, but excused themselves as soon -as they -consistently could, -and departed to their- rooms. Fanny immediately sank into a rocking-chair, and began to cry. Kate, who had been longing to- give vent to her pent- upfeelings, followed her example, Margaret managed to keep her eyes dry; though she felt every whit as sad and gloomy, and made a few vain attempts .to console her compganions. They turned the key of their door, that no one might intrude upon their grief. Now and then, they -PLAANS. would dry their eyes, and consult together; but some- thing would be brought up about home, that would make their tears flow afresh. At last, Kate said she wouid get her pen and paper, and write to her mother: it might make her feel better. , And she- then. commenced in the following style:- "DEAR JMOTHER,-You will be surprised to get a letter from me so soon, for I have not been here a whole day yet; but I am feeling so miserable, I shal have to express my feelings to somebody, or die. Fan: ny and I have cried for nearly an hour; and I can scarcely keep the tears off this paper: they flow from my eyes like brooks. You may think this is an exag- geration; but it is not. John told me not to moisten, ny handkerchief; but they are all wringing-wetnow. iargaret has not cried yet; but she says she should eel better if she could. I would give the world to be ith you, round the tea-table, to-night I could not at any thing here: not but what the food was good Dough, but there seemed to be a lard lump in my iroat, that prevented me from swallowing any thing. , he people seem very pleasant here. Mrs. Abbott in- oduced me to her niece, Miss Stanley, a teacher in te academy, who- boards here with us. I tried to ake my best bow, the one I learned at the dancing- heel; but I don't know Whether she appreciated it not. * . "I cannot realize that I am only five miles from you * ery tliing looks so differently, and seems so strange re, I feel as though thousands of miles separated us. page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 KATE CATTLLTNDER. Don't forget to remind Hannah to feed my bantams and little doves. I left my hat? and old shoes in the boat, by the pond, the day before I came away; but, oh, dear! perhaps I may never wear them again. I hope you will answer this letter as soon as you can: I shall be looking and longing for an answer. Tell father and John to write me also; for I want comfort from every one of you. "Ybur affectionate but sorrowful daughter, * X r KATE.1" Mrs. Callender was not at all surprised to receive this sad effusion from Kate. It was but natural that she should feel as she did, since she was so little accus- tomed to any place but her own home; and the moth- er trusted that time would heal her daughter's tran- sient woes. 'She immediately wrote a long letter to her daugh- ter, filled with encouragement and affection. She told her she must try and realize that the distance was short between them, and she could come home at least once a week, if she chose. John and Hannah added little jokes and pleasantries. John told her that he had found her hat -and shoes, but they were so soaked with rain, he' did not think she would ever wear them again; but he would preserve them as a pleasant remi- niscence of his little sister. ind words fro'm home, - how they cheer the heart! Would that they might be oftener sent! Their cost is little, but their worth is incalculable. CFAPTER III. HERBERT WILLARD. HOMESICKNESS, though a very disagreeable feel- ing, as everybody knows who has experienced it, is neither fatal nor incurable; and the unpleasant im- pressions our friends received at first soon wore away. Kate soon became generally acquainted, and enjoyed the scenes that opened before her in her new way of life. She made herself very popular with her school- mates, and was at once the pride and plague of the teachers: she was often reprimanded and compli- mented at the same time. Fearless, misclhievous, and regardless of consequences, she was in more " scrapes " than any other scholar, but, at the same time, manifested a remarkable faculty for getting out of them. When visitors came, Mr. Thorling liked to have the school appear to good. advantage, and relied much upon Kate for answering general questions. On these occasions, she was usually asked to produce and read one of her brilliant compositions, in .the writing of which she excelled, or take part in some dialogue. Though the teachers were proud to exhibit her tal- 26 e page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 KATE CALTEXDER. ents and scholarship, she often proved herself a serious annoyance to them. Mr. Tornling and Miss Stanley had especial cause to complain of her. Their hearts had been pierced by Cupid's arrows, and Kate had found it out. She had no sympathy or respect for love's young dream; and the little endearments of her superiors furnished her with many a little joke for the entertainment of her companions.,- Lovers do not like to be watched too closely, and Kate was a very close observer. If Miss Stanley blushed when Mr. Thorning spoke to her, she made note of it. If Mr. Thorning came iilto the recitation- room, as he often did, while they were translating their French- lesson, Miss Stanley would lose her place; and Kate would show that she had noticed this confusion, by handing her own book to her, opened at the proper place. She was bold, brilliant, and vex- atious. Still, the teachers would! overlook many of the little annoyances she caused them. The academy, though situated in a quiet country- town; had long possessed a wide-spread reputation. At this period of our story, a few years'before the civil war broke out, it was enjoying great prosperity, -receiving pupils of every station in life. Here the rich Southern plantder sent his sons and daughters to be educated; the country farmer and the city merchant their children; and many young men came here, who had neither parents nor friends to assist them, but had their own way to make in life, who. managed, by toil- ing part of the year at some lucrative employment; to HERBERT WTLLARD. 27 pay for their tuition, a few months at a time,at this- institution. Among the students at this time was one Herbert Willard, who, though young, had seen a great deal of life's rough ways. He had run away from his father's house in Richmonld, Va., when but thirteelnyears old, on account of having difficulty with his step-mother, and went to Boston, where he had some distant rela- tives. For days and days he traversed the streets in search of employment, but with little success, until his only suit of clothes was worn nearly threadbare. For a while he obtained a situation as supernumerary at the Howard Athenaeum; but it was not permanent. -He then joined a. Tlespian club, and undertook to give Shakspearian readings ; but his receipts did not pay his expenses. One day, when he had parted with his last cent, and his spirits had sunk to a low ebb, he caught sight of an advertisement in the'daily paper: "Clerk wanted in a dry-goods establishment. Must apply in his own handwriting. Direct to box 52, Boston P. Office." 'He answered the advertisement, and, being an excellent penman, obtained the situation, and found himself, for the first time since leaving hlome, in com- fortable circumstances. But the ordinary routine of business was not enough to satisfy him. He still be- longed to the Thespian club, and had joined a young men's literary association. He possessed -considerable elocutionary talent, which he dearly loved to display, and never neglected to make a public speech when the opportunity presented itself. At a sabbath-school con- * : . page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 K KATE CALLENDER. vention, the attention of Mr. Gordon, a man of great wealth and liberality, was drawn towards him. Wil- lard had made a very excellent speech upon the im- portance of sabbath schools for training the minds of children aright; wlhich awakened so much interest in Mr. Gordon, that he commenced immediately to make inquiries, concerning him. Mr. Gordon was a friend of education and religion. By his liberality he had enriched many churches and colleges. He believed that it was rare for a youlng man like Herbert Willard to take such an interest ill sab- bath schools, and that a person so disposed might exert a powerful influence as a minister; and lie resolved to take upon himself the expense of his education. He proposed the' matter to Herbert, who gladly accepted it, and entered immediately upon a course of study. Herbert Willard had been but a short time at the academy, when lie received the nickname of "' Direc- tor." - This was owing partly to his bleing somewhat older than the other students, and partly to his domi- neering, dictatorial disposition. He was very ener- getic, ambitious, and original, but not very well bal- anced. He would make a speech, sometimes, filled with the wisdom of a philosopher; while, in some of the common affairs of life, le would show as little judgment as a child. He took an active part in the mallnage- . ment of the theatrical entertainments occasionally given at the school. At. such times he was much pleased to be Romeo, and 'selected Kate Callender as his Ju- liet. This was discouraging work, at first, for her. ?. , . HERBERT WILLARD. 29 At the rehearsal, Romeo would scold, dictate, and sometimes get angry, .till poor lKate would, give up in despair, and declare that she would have nothing more to do with it. But he would have none other for his Juliet; and after a while, by dint of scolding and drilling, Kate was enabled to perform her part in a satisfactory manner. - We have said very little thus far about the personal beauty of our heroine. Kate, at the time of leaving home, might have been called passably good-looking. She had been careless in the arrangement of her hair and dress, and her complexion had been freckled and browned by out-of-door exposure. But she is now in her fifteenth year, and is verging from girlhood to womanhood. Thle lines of her face are growing more softened and delicate, and the large, brown, mischiev- ous eyes more thoughtful and expressive. Time will do much for her beauty, and polish her awkward man- ners. She is but a girl now: we shall behold her yet in womanly loveliness. . Kate had known little of style or luxury till she entered, the academy. But seeing it displayed, as she did, by the elegant dresses and expensive jewelry of some of the girls, awakened new wants and ideas in her mind. Rich gentlemen's daughters, whose homes were in the sunny South, would tell her of their ele- gant houses, gay carriages, and numerous servants, till poor Kate would be dazzled, and would long that she, too, might be rich. At such times she would- often wonder if girls like herself ever came into pos- session of a fortune, or whether she had any rich: rela- page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] s30 . KATE OALLENDEB. tive likely to bequeath her wealth. She had never heard her parents mention any thing about it, and she determined to ask her mother the question. Mrs. Callender was a little surprised when. Kate made this inquiry in one of her letters, Whether she had any rich relatives? Her niother answered that she did "not know of any, tlough some of them had become comfortably well off while in middle life; and added that she hoped Kate would consider that "a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches." In her letters to her daughter, she would always give her some advice upon the importance of keeping herself neat and tidy; though Kate's love of approbation was causing this thought to dawn grad- ually and spontaneously upon her own mind. She began to build air-castles; and, though they soon tottered and fell, her hopeful spirit created more upon the ruins: and in after-years, when troubles came thick and heavily upon her, this same spirit kept her heart from breaking. . CHAPTER IV. MSCHtit. KATE had been a whole year at the academy, and had made remarkable progress in her studies. She could learn a lesson in about half the time that was usually allowed for it, thus leaving a great deal of leisure time on her hands. "An idle mind is Satan's workshop; " and Kate's many spare moments proved the fruitful source of her troubles, and broughlt her, at lengtli, into a seri- ou mishap. ' . One bright day in June, when there was to be no school, Mr. Thornirig came to take Miss Stanley out to gather a few strawherries. The day proved to be a remarkably hot one; and Miss Stanley, not being used to the sun's rays, had her nose very seriously burned. As Kate boarded in the same house, she had good op- portunity for knowing this little affair. She assisted Miss Stanley in many ways, by applying lotions'; and they tried all sorts of means to allay the inflammation. But all in vain: erysipelas, or something of that sort, set in, and her nose became very much swollen. Miss Stanley had some personal beauty; and this 81 page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] KATE OATATENWDER. little misfortune marred it very much, causing her to feel disagreeably. But what could she do ? She could not cover up the offending member, nor leave it at home; and she must go to school, day after day, with her face comically disfigured. -Miss Stanley liked to appear to good advantage in the .presence of her lover, as is perfectly natural; and Kate' noticed that she avoided him as much as possible. There is always a certain antagonism felt by schol- ars towards their teacher, probably owing to the re- straint so often put upon the former by the latter; and our school-girls, instead of feeling the sympathy they ought to have done for their teacher's misfor- tune, enjoyed many a sly joke at her expense. Satan, the old adversary, found Kate idle one day, and set her to work. She took her peudil in hand, and commenced draw- ing, first the countenance of Mr. Thorning, and, next that of Miss Stanley, with her trouble largely repre- sented. Our heroine was no artist: her drawings were very crude. Still, she managed to put sufficient resem- blance into her productions to cause them to be rec- ognized, and sufficient of the ludicrous to make them amusing. Mr. Thorning was represented as looking over his glasses in a very loving and comforting manner, and saying to Miss Stanley, " Never mind your nose, dear Phoebe. In color and brightness, it reminds me pleas- antly of the charming fruit we had in June. Though it should grow to the size of a carrot, and remain so, which seems probable at present, yet my love for you would be lunchangeable." Kate had drawn this caricature for her own amuse- ment: but she was not selfish enough to enjoy it alone; and she passed it to her nearest neighbor, who smiled discreetly, and continued the circulation. Thus it was passed from one to another, till, as ill luck would have it, it fell into the hands of mirth-loving Emma Barker, who could not restrain her laughter, but burst out into a loud giggle. Mr. Thorning looked up instantly, and said, "I should like to have Miss Barker bring to me whatever she has thqt causes her so much amusement." Kate realized her situation at once. She knew that trouble was coming; and, gathering up all her courage (and a good stock of it she had), tried toput on an air of unconcern. Poor Emma was in a dilemma. She rummaged her desk for a subterfuge; seized nervously a French grammar, but there was nothing amusing about that. "You seem very reluctant to do as I requested, Miss Barker," said her teacher. He had laid down his book, and was closely observing her. Emma, like Bluebeard's wife, wanted but a moment more. She made another vain attempt to light upon something amusing in her desk; but, finding it use- less, walked slowy up with the offending article. Mr. Thorning looked at it but for a moment; then his face grew red and pale by turns, and he shut his teeth firmly together. The girls had never seen such 3 page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] KATE CALLENDER. an expression on his countenance before, and they be- gan to grow fearful for Kate. "Can you tell me who is the author of this carica- ture, Miss Barker?" he said, in a stern, husky voice. Enmma, though trembling from head to foot, main- tained sufficient composure to reply, "I prefer not to, sir." - Mr. Thorning requested all those who had seen the drawing to rise; and about ten of the girls stood up. He asked them, severally, if they knew who had made the sketch. Some of them did not; those who did, stoutly refused to tell. Mr. Thorning had suspected it all along to be Kate's work, though she looked more disinterested and inno- cent than any one in the room. (Am I indebted to you, Miss Callender, for this ex- travagant delineation ? " le said. Kate had expected this; and, having tried to pre- pare herself as much as possible for the emergency, answered that it was her work. " My opinion regarding this action of yours you can learn by remaining n after school." Saying this, he opened the lid of his desk, and threw the unlucky slip of paper into it, and resumied the exercises that had been interrupted by the occurrence. Mr. Thorning talked with Kate a long time after school. He told her that he should be obliged to expel her, in order to maintain his dignity as principal of the- school. She had treated him and Miss Stanley in such a disrespectful manner, it could not be over- MISC HIEF. ' looked. He was very much grieved to be obliged to take such a course, as he considered her, in many respects, an ornament to the institution. He spoke of her talents, and told her, if they were but rightly directed, they would insure her a brilliant future. Kate, for tle first time in her life, felt ashamed of herself. She had done this act thoughtlessly and un- wittingly, and could offer no apology. But it proved to be a good lesson to her; and she never afterwards felt inclined to show -disrespect to her elders. While Kate was detained in the schoolroom, her companions had gathered under the old pine-tree to wait for her, and speculate upon the events of the day. When she came towards them, her eyes red with weeping, and told the result,--that she was to be expelled from the school,--their indignation knew no bounds. Not one of them but loved her; and they immediately began to devise some means for relieving her from her embarrassing position. At last, Emma Barker, who accused herself of being the'cause of the present trouble, hit upon a plan. She had just received a letter from home, saying that the teacher of their village school had been obliged to discontinue, on account of sickness. If Kate could only get the situation, it would be excellent; and bet- ter than for her to go to her own home, and have it noised abroad that she had been expelled from the academy. It was the only alternative; and Kate as- sented, though she had neither sufficient experience nor inclination for school-teaching. They immediately commenced making preparations page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 36 EKATE CA LLF NDER. to leave for Emma's home that afternoon, in the last train. Kate, not wishing to see Mrs. Abbott, as she sup- posed she might feel somewhat indignant towards her, on account of the affront to her niece, wrote a few brief lines, stating that she was-going home with her friend Emma, to stay over Saturday and Sunday, and would not be back till Monday morning. As there was no school on Saturday, it was customary for the .girls who lived near by to leave for their homes on Friday afternoon; and no surprise was caused by their sudden departure. GCfAPTElR V. "TERARY ATTEMPTS. TWITHEN Miss Stanley beheld the caricature, she felt mortified and vexed enough. But being by na- ture good tempered and fond of a joke, even when at her own expense, she soon began to take a more lenli- ent view of the -matter. Though Kate had ridiculed her trouble, no one had been more anxious in trying to find a cure for it. After consulting various medical books on the subject, Kate had become convinced tlat erysipelas had set in, and had suggested the remedy which now seemed about to produce a favorable effect. In, consideration of these things, Miss Stanley could not but feel grateful, and ready to forgive the offender. Mrs. Abbott also interceded for Kate, who had won her heart by her social and sunshiny disposition. Though the production of Kate's pencil was indis- creet, and in bad taste, yet Miss Stanley and her aunt could not but appreciate the humor it exhibited. Finally, a more favorable state of feeling on the sub- ject was brought about by the hearty laugh they had over the drawing. If Miss Stanley could overlook being made ain ob- ject of ridicule, Mr. Thorning certainly could also; as 37 page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 38 v KATE CAT TLLNDER. he had been indignant on her- account, rather than on his own. So when Kate returned on Monday morning, with Emma and her father, Miss Stanley was the first one to greet her kindly and cordially. Mr. Barker had influence in schoo'l-matters in his village, and had procured the situation for Kate; who had returned only for her clothing, and was to go back at once.' Mr. -Thorning, however, said, "We cannot spare Kate; but I can recommend another young lady for the school, who has had experience in teaching, and would -therefore serve your purpose better." This pleased Kate very much; and she told Mr.' - Barker that he could not do better than take Mr. Thorning's nominee: and this was. accordingly done. -Kate was surprised and overwhelmed by the kind- ness of her friends'; especially when Miss Stanley, with a comical expression of mouth, told her that she felt sorry that her own misfortunes should bring her pupil into a disagreeable position, and hoped that neither of - them would experience any more trouble from the same cause, as it was rapidly disappearing, owing to the remedies that her young friend had applied. These incidents caused new-developments ill favor of our heroine. Miss Lovering, teacher of rhetoric and history, told Mr. Thorning that' Kate could write v sketches of sufficient merit to be worthy of publication; - and that, if they could stimulate her to adopt this occu- pation, there would be no idle moments for Satan to fill with mischief. The proposition was made to Kate, and received ' , . "TERARY ATTEMPTS. - 39 with joy. She felt much flattered that her effusions should be appreciated. Miss Lovering selected one from Kate's many . sketches; ands Kate, after revising it carefully, sent it, with many feelings of doubt and fear, to the editor of a magazine. She had adopted the nom de plume of "Elsie Greenwood; " hoping to persuade the public that she was a relative of Grace Greenwood, whose writings Kate much admired. Kate awaited the result with nervous anxiety; and when she at last learned that her article had not only been accepted, but that the editor called for more from the same writer, her joy was such as to be inde- scribable to most persons. Those only can understand it who have had a like experience. The success of her first attempt stimulated her to new exertion ; and she began to hope, that, in this new field, some bright mines might be opened by her work. Miss Lovering, one day, found Kate very busy with her pen, while the other girls were out at recess. "What is it," she said, " that interests you so much as to keep you in, Kate?" coming close up to the' writer before she was aware of the presence of any one. "Will you allow -me to read it?" "YqU may read it in a moment, if you wish; but I must explain to you, first, why I have thus written. 4"'I have been enjoying Mrs. Stowe's book, ' Uncle Tom's Cabin,' and wishing for the pecuniary success and fame which she has gained by' it. I should like to write a book that would make me famous; arid enable me to travel on the proceeds, as she has done. /Then page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 I RATE CALLENDER. I thought of Fanny Fern,- who writes little ,racy sketches, for which she receives great pay. I was wishing that I might write d la Stowe or d la Fern; and the thought that I could do neither drew from me the following spiteful soliloquy: - O1h, dear! I wonder when the presiding literary characters will pass off the stage. I am tired of wait- ing for an opportunity of distinguishing myself. "No sooter does all authoress establish her fame, than she immediately begins to travel. I have always had a strong desire to travel, in order to, see tihe world. Now, to accomplish this object, and in order Athat I might everywhere be favorably received, I be- gan to make literary pretensions. "But only one American lioness can exist at the same time; and I seem doomed continually to behold the palm borne away by more fortunate competitors. "First, Mrs. Stowe proved quite an extinguishher to my youthful-aspirations. I had to struggle against the popular feeling, that could relish nothing but 'Uncle Tom's Cabin.' What a great furore that created! -"I stood for a time free from the attacks of the fever, but was at length seized by the universal-mania, and exhibited the first symptoms by rushing frail- tically in search of a'Cabin.' I had seen others weeping over its affecting narrations, and, having tears, prepared to shed them now. It might be owing to my unfeminine hardness of heart, or to my anti-abolition sentiments, or to my jealousy of the merit of the * . ^r - "TERARY ATTEMPTS. 41 writer. For these reasons, or some other, I would not weep; and the original purity of my cambric ha ndker- chief remained unsullied. "I had to confess that the story was good, but not worthl making so much fuss about. 'There is genius greater than that still slumbering in America,' I said to myself, involuntarily casting a glance at a neighbor- ing mirror. "May you remain contented with the laurels you have won, Mrs. Stowe, and find forever a comfortable shelter in your 'Cabin'! ' i "Next, Fanny Fern claimed public attention, pla- cing her on the literary pinnacle. "I threw down my pen a second time in despair; but, I feel better now, and have summoned considerable courage to my relief: for you, Fanny, are said to be 'stout and fat,' and this destroys half your bewitch- ing power; besides, you are so unromantic as to be a matron, and to have some interesting children, while. I am yet in the heyday of my maidenly beauty, and my young ideas have only begun to shoot, But fear that you may wield against me that powerful pen of yours deters me from speaking my whole mind: and there is something I dread even more, -namely, a contact with you physically; for my own proportions are rather small, as I have pined away somewhat, on account of my romantic aspirations." Miss Lovering smiled when she had finished read- ing. "You have begun early, Kate, to deal in personali- '* * page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] KATE CA LTE1DER. ties,', she said. "Take my advice, and imitate neither the style of Beecher Stowe nor of Fanny Ferri. It is by your own originality, if at all, that you will succeed as an author. To lay dbwn your individuality, and adopt another's, is like trying to wear borrowed gar- ments that would not fit you or become you." Kate disliked to correct manuscript; nor did she like to read again or re-write aly thing once written. Miss Lovering tried hard to impress upon her mind the necessity of submitting to this labor of correction, if she would ever attain to literary distinction. She quoted a remark of Horace, il his Epistles to the Pisos, and told her to ponder on it well: "Condemn that poem which many a day and many a blot have not corrected, and castigated ten times to perfect ac- curacy." * f CHAPTER VI. THE STRANGER. 'IR. THORNING and his wife, after a wedding- t our of a few weeks, returned, and resumed their usual duties at the academy. Though they had become objects of less interest to their pupils, they were not, by any means, grieved on that account, and gladly accepted the new state of affairs. They could afford to dwindle into the " little conse- quence " of married people, if, by so doing, they could enjoy more freedom of action, could go and come without haviig every little movement noticed and commented upon, and could enjoy more than before of each other's society, ,which had become so dear to them both. They had married for love,--love tempered by reason. Neither of them had much worldly means: but Mr. Thorning considered himself rich in having obtained such 'a loving wife, with so sweet a disposi- tion; and she regarded with pride the many manly and noble qualities of her husband. They immediately began housekeeping in a small way. Mrs. Thorning had brought from her home an old servant, who assumed the duties of housekeeper; and she still con- 43 page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] ". KATE CA T T.FNDER. tinued her instructions in the academy. This ar- rangement was continued on account of its pecuniary advantages; for Mrs. Thorning, like a true wife, wished 'to be a hlelpmeet for her husband. She asked Kate to come and board with them: and Kate accepted with pleasure, for she had become quite attached to her teacher; and, as she grew older aqd more companion- able, they became as sisters to each other. Mrs. Thorning would frequently allude to Kate's little indiscretion, which had been so near separating them, and say that she hoped to keep her nose within . bouniids for the future, that she might not lead her friend into temptation ; and Kate would answer, good- naturedly, that, no matter what might happen, she would not undertake again to immortalize any feature of her face,- either in poetry or prose. Some weeks after the marriage of the principal had come to be s settled fact, another nine-days' wonder occurred at the quiet little village, which excited the interest and awakened the curiosity of our young Eladies. They had seen the stage-coach drive up to the only hotel in the place, and a young man alight therefrom. That he was handsome, their own eyes told them: they conjectured that he was rich, from the fact that his clothes were of the most fashionable cut and of the finest material, and. his kid gloves of the nicest fit. What his name was, and what had brought him to tl;at place, they were not long in finding out. Fanny Fletcher and Matty Davidson were out gathering bo- tanical specimens one Wednesday afternoon, and this THE STRANGER. 45 same young man, about whom they had all specurated so much, suddenly appeared in their pathway. Raising his hat gracefully, he apologized for coming so abruptly upon them, and said that he was sketching from Nature. Matty had dropped her flowers, and was speechless, so unexpected was the meeting. But Fanny replied, "I hope you find objec'ts worthy of your pencil, sir." "That I do," he said; (' but this pencil-sketching is not exactly my forte: I paint faces." He had been picking up Matty's flowers during this speech, and, as lie finished, handed them to her, look- ing full in her face. Her face was immediately painted: it turned a deep scarlet. Matty thought she had never seen such bold-looking, handsome blue eyes as those that- were gazing into hers; and he thought that he had never painted a lovelier face. The stranger became very talkative. He told them that he was from New-York City; that he had come to that place for recreation and rest:' whether lie staid a long or a short time depended entirely upon how much he might enjoy himself. Matty found the use of her tongue after a while; and they all three were soon walking together, and talking like friends. Mr. Arnold (for that was the name of the stranger) expressed a hope that it might be his'-good fortune to meet the young ladies often, as it had been a pleasant- occurrence to him; and they expressed themselves gratified by the meeting. When Fanny and Matty rejoined. their compan- ions, they were enthusiastic in praise of their new ac- page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] KATE CALLENDER.. quaintance. Matty said he came up to her idea of a hero. - With Mr. Arnold there seemed to be no lack of money. He started all sorts of fishing-excursions and picnics, and was always ready to pay the expenses him- self. Among the young men it was whispered aboit that his habits were not wholly above reproach; but these scandals did not reach the ears of his fairer friends. If the length of his stay depended upon his enjoy-. ment, he was likely to hover round a long time, like a bee amid the flowers. Mr. Arnold, as he had stated, was a portrait-painter by profession, and he excelled in his art. HeI was'an orphan, lis parents having died when lie was quite'young, - so young; indeed, that he retained no remembrance of either of them ; and he had been brought up and educated by a rich, morose old uncle, a brother of his mother. From hints his uncle occasionally let fall, Frederic knew he had no reason to. be proud of his father. His uncle would sometimes get quite angry at his childish words or acts, years ago, and sayJin an excited man- ner, "Never let me hear you say that again;" or, "Never do that again. It reminds me too much of your father." From this source he soon learned that his father had wasted his wife's fortune at the gaming- table; had received a wound in a drunken frolic, that was the cause of his death. The uncle had supported his mother during three years, as long as she had survived her husband,- THE STRANGER. 'Y: 47 and, finally, at her death, had adopted Frederic. Old Mr. Manning and his nephew did not always get along together harmoniously. The uncle had but little patience: the nephew was self-willed and provoking. The senior educated his junior well; gave him every opportunity to improve the talent he early devel- oped for painting, and furnished him the means for making a sojourn in Italy, that he might receive in- structions from the best masters. He expected to be recompensed for this by seeing his relative applj him- self to, and distinguish himself in, his profession. In this he was, however, sadly disappointed. Frederic loved pleasure too well. He would paint when it suited him, for pastime. When in want of funds, he would call on his uncle. At such times, if his calls had been too frequent, his uncle would become fearfully angry, and threaten to disinherit him if he did not set about doing something for himself. But Frederic Arnold possessed attractive qualities, well-suited, when he chose to use them, to win a woman's love. His voice was finely modulated. His hair, which he with bad taste parted in the middle, was brown and curling. His forehead was white and high, and his large blue eyes, as we have said, were bold-looking and expres- sive. A careless observer might have pronounced him handsome; but, if you had asked a physiognomist to express an opinion concerning him, he would have ex- amined carefully the mouth, hidden by the beard, and, detecting there the existing signs of cruelty and sel- fishness, would have told you that you had better -let page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 KA , KATE CALLENDER. loose a wolf among a flock of lambs, than suffer this marn to roam at will in company with romantic young ladies. . Mr. Arnold had an artist's appreciation of beauty; and-he asked Matty Davidson, one day, if she would sit to him for-her portrait. She felt flattered by the request, and willingly gave consent. Matty's face did credit to the artist's skill. Shle had that auburn-col- ored hair which approaches somewhat to red, and those peculiar reddish-brown eyes which frequently accom- pany such hair. Her skin was white, and her cheeks had been tinted with roses by Nature. Mr. Arnold was quite satisfied with his work: it was admired by everybody who saw it, and&established the fame of the artist throughout the neilghborhood. After-finishing the portrait of Matty, Mr. Arnold requested to 'paint that of Kate Callender; but Kate objected, as she said that every thing which had been undertaken for her in that line had proved a failure. Frederic was so'-sure of successg, and so persistent, that Kate 'finally con- sented. It was difficult work, hew found, and. it came near costing hm -his crowln. Mr. Arnold made repeated trials to delineate Kate's face, but in vain. When he had finished, the painting did not look much like her. He had drawn a good likeness of each feature, but the features-united did not resefible her face. At one trial he tore the can- vas in shreds before he had proceeded but little way. At the next, when the painting was nearly done, he thrust the unsuccessful 'representation into the stove. The- artist was baffled and perplexed. At last he found THE STRANGER. 49 out the cause of his failure ; but le was longer in find- : ing out a remedy. * Each feature of Kate's face, taken separately, was plainl; but she had a wonderful beauty of expression. To be handsome, her face must be lit up, as it usually was in laughing, talking, or by some happy thought. One day, she came into the studio, laughing, and said," Good-morning, most unsuccessful of painters!" "Good-morning,' " he replied, " most provoking of demoiselles! Why don't you wear that smile long enoulgh for me to copy it?" "For the reason that your chair is the dullest and inost tedious of all places to sit in. I no sooner settle down in it, than I begin -to consider myself a martyr. I wish, at times, that some good angel would appear, and carry me out of your presence forever. I am really fearful, sometimes, that you may treat me no better than you did the canvas." ' I was provoked with the canvas because my work upon it was so un ike you. If there had been the least resemblance, I never could have had the heart to do so." "Please remember, Sir Knight of the Brush, that I can be at your service but a short time longer." "Opell not your lips again; but imagine that your publisher has forwarded to you a hundred dollars for your last literary production." Kate smiled, but kept silence for a time. Our artist displayed remarkable zeal in his work, and toiled on, day by day, persistently and indefatiga- bly; and was at last rewarded by finishing his work in 4o page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50: KATE CALLENDER. a manner satisfactory,both to himself and to Kate, as well as to her numerous friends.* He had managed, by some means, to bring into Kate's face the expres- sion that he desired, and had skilfully transferred-it to the canvas. t^But his last trial seemed to have ex- hausted his energy, or to have discouraged him by the numer us difficulties encountered; for he declared that he would paint no more portraits. One day, after he had spent eight weeks in the vil- lage, the neighbors were surprised' at the announce- ment that he had taken- his departure. He had started in the early train, with his numerous trunks, boxes, perfumery, &c.; and had bidden good-by to none of his many acquaintances. His bills at the hotel had all been paid: in that re- spect he had left a clear record. For a wonder, the tongue of scandal was not let loose upon his name. Some of the students, who had been on fishing ex- :cursions with him, thought that he sometimes ap- peared excited, as if with wine; but their suspicions had not become certainty, and, therefore, but little was said on- the subject. Poor Matty Davidson thought he must have forgot- ten something,-a declaration of love! He had flat- tered her, paid her every attention, and filled her heart with love fancies and dreams. He was her, beau-ideal of manly excellence; and she was seen fre- quently to wipe the moisture from her eyes when his name was mentioned. Happily, it proved to be but an ephemeral fondness, and made no lasting impression on her girlish heart. E , , V " THE STRANGER, 1 Conjecture was in vain exhausted in attempting to assign a cause for the sudden departure of our artist from the place where he had seemed to realize so much enjoyment. Why he had gone-in this hasty and unannounced manner was known only to one 'man and one young woman,- Frederic Arnold and Kate Callender. a, page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] / / CHAPTER VII. SCHOOL-GIRLS' AMBITION. THE mere reward of seeing her literary productions ; lin print had ceased to be sufficient incitement to Kate. . She had many and incieasingi wallts, whichl- she knew hller parents were not able to supply; and she began to set her heart on filthly lucre. Having heard of a publication' that paid for every i thing that was considered worthy of acceptance, she immediately prepared an article for its columns. She awaited with much anxiety the result; for the accept- ance or refusal of this article would prove whether her talents had any marketable value or not., For a long time, she received ilo-information with regard to the matter. At last, she directed a note to the editor, inquiring the result. She soonl received an answer, stating that her article had been accepted, but de- layed; and a check for ten dollars was enclosed, as a ' recompense. Kate was in high spirits. She could see, in this good fortune, an opening to future independence. She went immediately to the bank. The cashier looked at the check shrewdly. "You are Elsie- Greenwood, I suppose?" 52 ,. SCHOOL-GIRLS ' AMBITION. ' 53 Kate blushed, and said, No, not exactly. Her narrie was Kate Callender; but the check was intended for herself. She had not been a sufficiently long time an authoress to be able to state the fact with indiffer-, ence. . "You must bring in somebody who can identify yon as the person meant in this check," answered the cashier. ' Kate spoke to Mr. Thorning of the dilemma; and he immediately went with her, and made a satisfac- tory explanation of the case, and she received the money. As they were walking towards home together, Mr. Thorning said to ,Kate, "Why is it that you never write a story? I notice that your produo,tions are usually sketches." "In answer to that question, I shall have to ac- knowledge a defeat. I have made the endeavor more thian once, but I soon become tired of putting wise sayings into the mouths of my characters: then I am apt to plunge them into the lowest depths of despair; and, after I get them there, I do not know any way of extricating them, but have to kill them off, or marry them, to get them out of their-own misery and minu. These attempts proved so unsatisfactory to mee, that I never felt as tlough 'I could impose upon an editor by sending my stories to him. I think authors should be interested in their own subjects, if they would interest their readers." "That is very true, Kate; and one of thlese days, o page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 KATE CAJTLENDER. when you find out that you have a heart, you will give us a good love-stoery." "I have no inspiration that way as yet," answered Kate, blushing. Mr. Thorning noticed that she did not exhibit the self-satisfied- assurance that she usually did when speaking of such matters. 'This was to be Kate's last year at the academy ; and she began to think of parting from her school-com- panions with regret. It seemed to her as if the hap- piest days of ,her life had been spent there; and she disliked to break up the pleasant association. She would often liave long talks with Margaret Mor- rison on the- subject; and Margaret would say, "If it were not for you and I lhavinol some purpose in life, there would be notlhing for us to do but to pile up our books, and' go home, aind wait patiently for somebody to come and marry us. In the mean time, we could manage to eke out our existence by fixing up our millinery, and retailing gossip.'" Kate was glad that she had a purpose unlike Marga- 'ret's; but still, she was always willing to disciss lier pet subject pleasantly with her. One day, Margaret said, "Do you think women have a right to express an opinion on. any subject?" Certainly they should," Kate would answer ".Then you believe that women have a right to vote ; - for, that is nothing more than expressing an opin- ion concerning political affairs. If a woman has a right to a voice in regard to household affairs, whose interests affect her, she also has a right to express an b *V VrtL)' :!; SCHOOL-GIRLS' AMBITION. 55 opinion concerning the affairs -of a nation, whose in- terests also affect her." Kate thought there was much force in Margaret's argument, though she did not wish for any of the pre- rogatives of the male sex, or to become an advocate of the cause herself. She was always a willing listener; and Margaret felt grateful for that, as most of the girls treated this subject with ridicule or indifference. These incidents that we have been relating hap- pened some years ago, when this class of reformers was small, - a mere' handful, - and were experien- cing all .the opposition that new ideas usually call fort!l. Alny person who has watched the progress of reform, either in politics or religion, knows that every new movement has to pass through certain' stages beforie it is generally adopted. There are some people who are always in advance of public opinion, and others who are half a century behind. To the former we owe our improvements ill religion and politics, and our many ingenious inven- tions in mechanics. The latter are usually the croak- ers and opposers. We may be indebted to them for the prevention of too much hiaste in carrying out new movements. Like the country farmer of olden time, who opposed the erection of a new schoolhouse, they are apt to consider " reading, writing, and arithmetic enough learning for a boy, and topo much for a girl!" We cannot afford -to dispense with our martyrs, fa- natics, or monomaniacs, if we wish to improve as a nation. Those who have watched the " woman's movement," %* page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 56 KATE CALLENDER. know that it started in the same way, has met with the same reception, and has been through all the stages that all other reforms have. We can just as safely predict its final success, as say that the doctrines of, Phillips and Garrison have beenestablished. I, as a woman, am not as yet sufficiently " progres- sive" to desire suffrage for myself; still, should it become a law of the land ; should I hear a sound like '.' All quiet onl the Potomac?" inspiring me with confi- dence; ,should it please the gentlemen (I love to please the gentlemen) ; should it become fashionable (I like to be fashionable); should I see my neighbors on either side put on their best bonnets and shawls, and walk down the street to drop a bit of paper into a box, when there comes up such an issue, equally im- portant, as whether a man like Grant or like Seymour should be President of the United States, -then I should put on my best bonnet and shawl, and do like- wise. There! I have confessed, without intending it, that I am for " woman's suffrage." I have made my first acknowledgment of it on this page. Margaret Morrisowirwas doomed to meet with much opposition and discouragement at home, as well as at school. When her father, Dr. Morrison, first heard of the bent her mind had taken, he made the remark that he would rather have put a strait-jacket on his daughter, and,taken her to the lunatic asylum, than that she should have imbibed such fanatical notions. ,He considered- that she and Kate Callender had ac- quired -their peculiar ideas. by going to the board- / , . SCHOOL-GIRLS' AMBITION. 57 ing-school; and he regretted, for his own part, that he had ever consented to let his daughter enter it. He hated all sorts of fanatics; and woman-fanatics lhee considered more hopeless than any. He tried, every way in his power, to divert Margaret's mind from the subject;: but her opinions had become settled convic- tions, and it was all to no purpose. "I hope you don't intend to lecture, as some of those crack-brained women ares doing?" he said to. her one day. - I do not expect to be capable ofr-it," she answered. ' Well, if you ever get the insane notion into your head, just let me know; and I will see that there are a thousand miles between us." To undertake to reason Margaret Morrison out of these fixed ideas " was as absurd as would be the- at- tempt to extinguish Vesuvius with a glass of water." , q ^V, page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] CHiAPTER Vlll. POURING FORTH. M R. THORNING and his wife had' occasion to leave home for a few days on account of the marriage of a sister; and, wishing. to take their housekeeper with them, to assist in the necessary preparations for the wedding, they made arrangements with Mrs. Abbott to board Kate and a nephew of Mr. Thornirig during their absence. But Kate said that she should enjoy the chance of keeping house, and preferred to remain where she was. She knew that she should get along well. Mrs. Thorning consented, though with reluctance, and some doubts as to the success. A few days after, Margaret Morrison perceived that her friend was in a sad state" of despondency. "What- is the matter, Kate?" she' asked. "You come late to school, and look as if you -had been ' through a time of sickness."' "It is owing to my trouble and care," was the lhasty answer. "I am housekeeping, and nearly dis- tracted with my anxieties. If I am so fortunate as to live through them, I will write an account of my do- , ings and failures. I will express an opinion." 68 :, i POURING FORTH. 59 True to her word, Kate did pour forth her sorrows, and Margaret had an opportunity of reading the mel- ancholy adventures, as follows:-- "EXPERIENCES OF A HOUSEKEEPER. "I never shall forget those few days of toil and per- plexity. Theyn made too deep an impression upon my mind to be erased from the tablets of my mem- ory. "I had frequently wondered why housekeepers complained so much, since their lot seemed to me so comparatively happy; and had even gone so far as to presume that I should acquit myself creditably if ever placed in such a situation. I had frequently laughed inl my- sleeve, when I heard women, placed, as I thought, in such easy 'situatiops, complain of their trials. "' What would they think of my fate- of me? who am doomed to move submissively at the ringing of a bell, whether it is congenial to my own feeling, or not; am obliged, almost continually, to pore over books; and, what is worse, am bound to obey certain rules, which prohibit all communication with my dear fellow-pupils, even when I desire ever so much 'to communicate some desirable" information; and, by the fear of a penalty, am prevented from turning round to behold the occupation of thle. loved-ones. Methinks they would instantly cease from their com- plaints, and breathe a sigh for me instead, if they could only realize the anxious hours I pass, conning ; Ro page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] KAELCtAlji UJ3NVEI. exercises and translating Virgili sternly demanded of. me by hard taskmasters, whilst they enjoy a delicious repose. " In my heart, I formerly envied those domestic beings whose only labor was to attend to the duties of housekeeping. But tllattime has passed away, and I now look back with bitterness oil those days of igno- rance and inexperience. I hailed with joy the first chance tlhat presented itself for displaying my domestic capacities, and sin- cerely expected to show to my acquaintances an im- proved system of housekeeping. "During tlle first day. of my management, I got along perfectly well; for our housekeeper, just de- parted, being thoroughly skilled in her art, had left a good stock of provisions for our necessities. " I knew that she was a good manager,- much better, in fact, than most of her class; but I still thought that she could nllt quite come up to that per- fection which I intended to display. "The morning of the second day, I was awakened by a knocking onl the ceiling beneath me, caused by my companion, whose office it was to make the fire. This was his mode of signalling tlat his duty was performed, and of hinting, in n1o gentle manner, tlat it was time for me to be stirring. It excited my in- dignation, that I should be awakened in such an un- ceremonious manner. I felt provoked with the per- petrator of the mischief, who lhad so unhesitatingly disturbed my repose, and roused me from my oblivious state only to make me feel the weight of my impend- POURING FORTH. 61 ing cares. The noise was continued at intervals, with unremitting patience. There never was a more untir- ing rapper; but they were not spiritual rappings, for they were produced by that most unspiritual of things, a broom-handle. It might have been owing to a cer- tain reluctance I felt for performing the necessary pre- liminaries attending breakfast; it might have been weariness caused by preceding labors; or it might have been some other reason: but I did not stir from my place, and soon fell fast asleep again. "When next awakened, I was startled by the strik- ing of the clock, which proclaimed, that, in another hour, the ringing of the school-bell would summon me to other scenes. Witl what haste I could, I made my descent into the kitchen, and bustled about with strange desperation. In my confusion I sprinkled some coffee-grounds upon a cooking steak, and put the pepper and salt into the coffee-pot; and then was so overwlelmed by my Confusion, that the plate I held slipped from my nervous hand, and broke into many pieces. "But my trouble had only commenced: the bread wouldn't rise, the fire wouldn't burn, and the coffee wouldn't settle. " After breakfast had been despatched, I commenced flourishing a broom; only a flourish,- a mere setting in motion of dirt and dust, and sending it to seek un- seen resting-places under chairs and tables. " I hastened to school; and, when there, it required all the presence of mind that I 'was mistress of to avoid mingling with my recitations some extracts page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 KATE CAT JTF NDER. from the cook-book that I had donsulted just before leaving-home. , Never before did the walls of the old academy seem so kindly beneficent; and never did I so reluc- tantly retrace my way homeward. Instead of the busy housewife, bright fire, and good dinner that usually awaited us, was cold desolation, empty rooms, and 'uncooked dinner. I found, that, in my absence, tile cat had been by no means idle, but had com- mitted great depredations. She had devoured half the breakfast that I had left oa the table, and upset various dishes that I had no time to secure in the cup- board. Alas! I had neglected to supply the wants of poor grimalkin, and she had taken the opportunity to supply herself. "The dinner was that day a picked-up affair, and ;was partaken of with but little relish by either my companion or myself. I felt mortified to see him eat so sparingly of the food I had placed before him. ," The meal over, I began to make an attempt to clear up and put things to rights. This it was no easy matter to accomplish amid such confusion. Chairs, that had usually occupied modest stations by the walls, stood boldly forth in the middle of the room; tables were in anlgular positions; and dust showed itself to my sight, lying in obscure corners. I darkened the windows to hide the view; and, where dirt was most conspicuous, I placed a chair or some other piece of furniture. "Blush for me and with me, all prudent,tidy house- POURING FORTH. 63 wives. I confess now, to my shame, that tie dirt was not removed, but hidden from sight. "After having restored something like order, I sat down to study. I took up my V irgil, and soon became deeply absorbed in the. account of the siege of Troy, the treachery of the perjured Sinon, and stratagem of the wooden horse. So greatly was I interested, that I began to imagine that a siege of some kind was going oni around me. "Soon, however, I was aroused from my studies, and found that the noise of my fancied siege came from the kitchen. I rushed at once to the spot,.and- found the tea-kettle- (pardon the word; but it was the tea-kettle, and nothing else,) sending forth its contents upon the stove, and smoking with all the fury of a steam engine. I snatched'it quickly from the hot mist that enveloped it, but dropped it more quickly still ; for the heated handle had left its impress on my'hand. "I did not resume my studies tht day, for the' thread of the story had been, too roughly broken; but I immediately began to prepare tea. But it could not be called tea; for I had dispensed with the use of that article, having conceived, all at once, a wonderful an- tipathy against the tea-kettle and all its appurtenances (my blistered hand could, well testify to its cruel power): neither could my preparations be called by so substantial a name as supper; and it was too meagre to be called even a meal. It was a chair placed .by a table on which were a plate and a glass of water and a few fragments of food; and -that was all. As for myself, I had no appetite; and I did not wait to wit- i ' 5 page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] " EKATE CATAjFWNDER. ness the appetite of my companion at his scanty re- past. ' "The fourth day I was nearly distracted. My pa- tience was exhausted, and so were the provisions. My lessons were sadly neglected, and the teachers began to look at me in an unpleasant manner. "(Where was my boasted power? It had'vanished away: and in those few days I became'very humble and subdued. I expected my friends-at noon; but I : had expected them the noon before, and they did not come* ' And now, as I neared the house, my steps became slower and slower; for I feared a renewal of my disap- pointment. But no: I obtained a glimpse of a well- :known shawl, and soon heard the sound of familiar voices, - a sound that had ever been welcome, but was doubly welcome now. "For a moment I halted on the threshold to gain breath, and triel to look self-satisfied, as if every thing had-passed with me agreeably. But the attempt was vain; and before me was a discouraging picture. A- skilful manager of the broom was already ejecting from the house the dirt that had accumulated while I had been its mistress; and dirty pots and kettles, that had been drawn from their hiding-places, glared threateningly at me whenever I assumed my cheerful looks. My friends observed that-I seemed pale, and wished to know if I was ill. I answered mechani- 'cally in the negative. I was slightly emaciated, owing to those few days of anxiety and fasting, "Thus' I who had been eloquent in theory was I, , h POURING FORTH. 65 proved quite deficient in practice. But a change in my opinion has been wroug!t since then; and I never can hear another speak of household labors as light, without exclaiming, ' Thou fool!' and wishing that the person may pass through the same ordeal that I -did. "I have suddenly become a champion of woman's rights, and demand emphatically their claim to move in a sphere higher than that enclosed in a kitclhen's wallsj and to be bound to' something more noble and ennobling than a tea-kettle. "You men, or lords of creation (as sometimes called), have taxed your mighty intellects to invent many labor-saving machines, but have neglected to improve theimportant machinery for household work. My advice is to' all votaries of the kitchen, that they would do well to serve a shorter or longer apprentice- ship to some professor of the black art, and learn some process of performing culinary operations by that mode of magic that may be termed 'sleight of hand.'" '" - " * * . " page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] OTTAPTER IX. P H L O S'OPH I ZING. HERBERT WTTTLLARD sat in his room alone, meditating upon his future prospects in life. He should soon finish his course at the: academy; and after that, he was to enter college, and prepare for the ministry. This plan had been proposed to him by Mr. Gordon,; and, as it suited his inclinations, he was about to pursue it with pleasure. Mr. Willard had a large bump on his head, where, phrenologists had located the organ of self-esteem. He was thinking of the forcible and elaborate sermons that he would write, and thlat would be sure to carry conviction to the minds of his delighted hearers. He meant to touch! their hearts with eloquience and truth, in such a manner that they would feel obliged \ to award him a large salary in return for his services. Under such circumstances, it would be a gratifying responsibility to convey spiritual instruction to the minds. of the young and the old, and to point out the- only safe road to salvation. Next, he began to think of a wife, as a very impor- tant requisite for a minister. Not that he felt in any haste t marry; that event need -not happen for -66 PHLOSOPHTZTNG. 67 years: still, it would be comforting and encouraging to feel as if lie belonged to somebody, and to have some one to feel a special interest in him. His mind turned gradually towards Kate Callender. He thought she would be rarely fitted for the position of a minister's wife. She was every day gaining more of that womanly dignity and grace which he loved, and with what talent she possessed, and the educa- tion she was obtaining, would be able to render him much assistance in the profession he had chosen. He knew that she already felt a great interest in his plans. Sometimes, when he had confided- his glowing thoughts to her, he had watched the effect as they caught her girlish fancy, illumined her fair brow, and caused the bright eyes to sparkle. He was in a philosophic mood, and looked sharply at all the advantages and disadvantages of the con- nection; and, at last, thought of an obstacle. Mr. Willard was an- important personage in his own eyes. Though the doors of his father's house were shut against him, it was to him a comforting reflection that he belonged to " one of the first fami- lies of Virginia;" The station in life of Kate Cal- lender was far beneath his own, and he knew very well of her plebeian origin. But he soon argued this objection away, .to his own satisfaction. This was a democratic country and a democratic age; and many a person who started at the lowest round of the lad- der had climbed to -the top, while some who had com- menced at the top would find themselves, in not page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 . KATE OATLLTNDER. many years, at its base. Kate had talents that would lift her from a common station in life. He determined to be wise and speculative concern- ing his matrimonial prospects;, and he had counted on every thing likely to occur, as he supposed. But t he never once imagined that he might meet with a refusal. When Herbert Willard once 1had a purpose fixed in his-mind, he could not easily dismiss it; and he deter- mined to take the first opportunity that might occur, and speak to Kate onil the subject. Butjfortune did not favor him for some time. When- ever he chanced to meet Kate, she was in company with others, or in some situation unsuitable for private conversation. One morning, however, he espied her walking to- wards home alone, and immediately hastened to join- her. She had been taking a morning walk, and had gathered a few flowers by lthe roadside. Her cheeks were rosy from ]exercise, and her eyes were sparkling withl delight. Herbert thought she looked remarka- bly handsome as he spoke to her. '"How happens it, Kate, that you are alone in your morning walk?" "I like to go by myself, because I can think and can see so much more .than when with company." "But you do not desire to walk through life alone, do you?" At first Kate did not understand what he meant to imply, and she answered," Oh, no, indeed! I enjoy s- ociety very much; but there are times whenr I like PHLOSOPHZING. 69 uninterrupted thought, and then I feel like secluding myself." His little manceuvre for drawing Kate out had not succeeded: he must try again. "Tile time we have spent at this academy has passed very pleasantly to me; and I regret very much, some- times, that I am soon to leave such pleasant scenes." l "I shouldn't suppose you would feel so, as you have a profession in view, in which you are very much l interested. With girls it is different. After leaving school, they have nothing particular with which to occupy their minds. They have no business pursuits, and have but little employment for their talents, or gratification for their ambition." "But I fiid it disagreeable to have to break up pleasant associations, no matter what else the change may bring." They were now very near Kate's home, and he began to feel the importance of liaving a decision soon; and he continued,- "You and I have enjoyed each other's society much: but our paths may diverge heireafter; we may lose sight of each other." Kate hoped not. .She said that she should always be interested in his welfare, and glad. to hear of his prosperity. He would have to be quick now: they were almost at the house-door. He was used to speech-making, but this was a new and delicate subject. "May I know if you take sufficient interest in my welfare to share it with me some day? I know you i . ' I * * . .* page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 KATE CALT#RENDER. are young, and it may be long years before I shall be able to marry: still, it would be an incentive and encouragement to my exertions to know that I was in possession of your love, and that youwould some time become my wife.' His manner showed none of the timidity of a lover who expects a rejection of his suit. When he began this last speech, Kate looked first interested, then astonished, and- finally decided. "That can never be, Herbert ' I think you have mistaken your feelings towards me." The comfortable, confident air he had maintained throughout most of the conversation immediately van- ished. He looked mortified, not grieved. Kate's un- expected refusal had w*ounded his self-love, but had not affected his heart. He thought, perhaps, that Kate had refused him on account of his poverty; that she did not appreciate sufficiently his- talents, that were sure to bring him prosperity and honor. He felt that she was throwing away a brilliant opportu- nity. "You may some time think differently of my propo- sal." "I am very sure that I shall not. I shall: always be pleased to number you among my friends." He wished her good-morning in a very dignified manner. For a time he treated Kate with a stately super- ciliousness; he greeted her, when they' met, with a cool "Good-morning, Miss Callender," or "Good- afternoon, Miss Callender:" but he soon forgot that ," PHLOsOPHZING. 71 his dignity had been injured, and they resumed their former friendly intercourse. Like a philosopher, he had reasoned on his matrimo- nial prospects; and, like a philosopher, he comforted himself after his refusal. ,"- . ..'" - , r l page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] CHAPTER X. SEPARATIONS. TiME rolled swiftly on, and brought about at last the closing day of the school,-the day of sad partings., The school-girls assembled for the last time under the pine-tree, - their old trysting-place. They expressed many sad regrets at parting, and made vows that they would always cherish pleasant recollections of each other and of the many happy moments they had spent together. Many were leaving for homes near by, and others were going thousands of miles away. Some were lear- ing their girlish hearts behind, and taking a young man's image witl them. Many remained true to these early attachments: otlers abandoned the old loves, and formed new ones. IatDavidsn was going to her home in Charles- toi, 8sC.; and she urged her friends, Fanny Fletcher :and Kate, to make her a visit there. She promised them abundance of luxury and pleas- ure if they would come. Her father was a rich cotton- planter, and his home was furnished with every thing that wealth could procure. Fanny accepted the invi- tation; but Kate knew that it would be utterly imprac- 72 1 ticable for her, as she had not the means of paying the expenses of so long a journey. With the closing term, Mrs. Thorning was to resign her situation as teacher of Frencll; and Mr. Thorning offered the place to Kate, -nay, urged her strongly to accept it. She did not decidedly refuse, though sho disliked much to confine herself to the monotony of teaching. She knew very well that her parents were not able to, supply her many wants; and tle returns from ler literary productions were as yet an uncer- tain source. She might feel obliged to adopt this, to her, distasteful avocation after a while; and slhe wished Mr. Thoriiing to give her a little time to consider the matter before giving him a final answer. Margaret Morrison was looking forward to her fu- ture prospect witi pleasure. Her father had proposed to 1er that slie sliould make a long visit to some rela- tions in New York. He hoped that the gayeties and the excitement of city-life would drive that notion that he detested out of her head. This arrangement gratified Margaret much, as it offered to her a wider field for the development of her cherished purposes. Kate's parents were plodding, hard-working people: they were poor in worldly goods, but rich in the joys of home and heart. They-had only a moderate ambi- tion, and their two elder children had taken positions quite satisfactory to them. They had never had any literary character in their family or among their ac- quaintances; and they were inclined to regard such as unhappy and unapproachable sort of people. Kate had changed very much : she did not seem so page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 KATE CALLENDER. happy and -light-llearted as formerly, and they sup posed her literary aspirations to be 'the cause. But she had always had a will of her own, and this she still retained. They coxuld advise with and dictate to her elder sister and her brother, but they could not succeed so well with her. - She had gone from among them a romping, self- willed, sunny-hearted, careless, freckled-faced girl: i - she had returned a handsome, talented, self-reliant woman. She had a feminine fondness for dress, and liked to make a good personal appearance. Her parents could find no fault with the change, except that she was not so genial ald companionable as be- fore. Sometimes she would ex!libit flashes of her old 'wit and merriment, and sometimes she would have moments of quiet and even depression'. John Callender, one day, remarked to her that boarding-school notions spoiled all the girls ; that they had -made Fanny Fletcher " stuck-up," Margaret Morrison hlalf an "amazon," and lierself a "blue- stocking." Kate laughed, and said, "I will return that com- pliment some day." John said this in an irritated manner; and he had some. reason, as far as Fanny was concerned: for they had been schoolmates together, and Fanny had seemed much pleased with many little attentions John had paid her; but, since her return from the boarding-school, she had avoided him, and given him the "cold shoulder." Hannah Callender was very different in character + . . SEPARATIONS. 75 from her sister Kate. She was sensible, prudent, and matter-of-fact, and could not sympatlize with Kate's "' longings after ifmmortality." She considered " solid pudding better thllan empty praise;" and told her sister that she thought her very unwise 'to hesitate about accepting such a situation as that offered ller at the academy. "But thllee is a drudgery about school-teaching that I dislike. I expect to make my; writings profit- able in time: besides, there is a satisfaction in being able to -leave an lolnorable record of my works here, that may be appreciated after I am dead." ' That may be a pleasant delusion to you, Kate: bit I don't expect to know whetlher my merits are appreciated or not after I am dead; and, even should it be so, I should place but little value on posthumous faulet" "I have joys that you know not of," Kate answered laughllilgly; and, in order to realize my feelings, you mustlhave had my experience." "I do not wish for it. I should prefer to go out :washing, or undertake some "floors to clean,' than to spenld lmy time as you do yours, -ell subjects that were so uncertain of bringing me any recompense.5' "' But I expect that both honor and profit will come -to me in time." - Inspite of all her efforts, the mind of Kate Callen- der was ill at ease. It had been so for a lolng time, though she! had tried hard to conceal it; and the quiet solitude of her own home had only increased the feel- ing. She had found' out, at last, that she had a heart. page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 . KATE CALLENDER. ' She had had a cup of happiniess pressed to her lips, but had dashed it away with her own hand; and now she regretted it. The face and the form of the painter Arnold rose up before her, haunting her sleeping and waking hours. She could not forget--the whiteness of his face, nor the determined expression of llis eye, when he told her. that hopeless love sometimes broke the hearts of womenl, but that it drove men to ruin and madness; that the world was to him as nothing, without her love. While Frederic Arnlold was paint- ing Kate's portrait, he had fallen in love with hs sub- ject. :He had told her so, and -begged auld pleaded (as a man of the world knows how to plead) for lher love ,in return ; but she had refused llim. He told her she had now too much ambition to feel that she had a" heart; but that she wotuld find it out at some fiuture -time. He left the town immediately after: and lie lhad scarcely gone, ere Kate regretted her refusal; llis winning countenance and manners had more clarms for her than she had at first realized. A sweet pic- ture of happiness (of what life with love light be) rose up to tempt her; and she would hlave called him back, had not her pride prevented. She could not forget the beseeching eloquence of hs look and lan- -guae when he said that her love was necessary to his happiness; and there is always a tendency in a true woman's heart to pity and believe, where the affections are interested. She was afraid that her refusal might drive him to some act of desperation; and, should this prove the case, she felt that she never could forgive- Ilerself. A SEPARATIONS. " poet hlas said that a woman might do a more foolish thing than to fall in love, and a wiser one than to tell of it. Our heroine may llave had a sentiment some- thing like this; for nlo sooller did she discover herself to be in love than she determinled that novother mortal should be able to detect the secret regret that filled her heart. Slle felt sometimes as if she would will- ingly give up all her ambition, and hopes of fame could she but find refuge within a heart that was all her own. Alas for women! they have too much trust in their nature ; they make too many clay- idols ; they may be ambitious, " strong minded,' intellectual, and self-reliant: but in their faith lies their weakness ; and by misplaced confidelnce they are often deceived and ruined. Kate had a large soul, with wide sympathies and strange depth. Though she would -confide her troubles to no ear, however friendly, shie sought com- fort in her own way, by " pouring forth," and com- mencing her first love-story. Shle gavelit the title of The Mind and Heart." Her leroine was a young girl of talent anld ambi- tioll, who aspired to be -a star among actresses, and finally succeeded. Her lonlg dreams and ambitious hopes were realized to the full' extent. Newspapers rang with her praises, and witlh a stroke of the pen made her famous, and placed her at the summit of tle histrionic profession. But, to accomplish this, she put away the love of her youth, and found out, when too late, that her best successes were but fleeting shadows; that the fruits of her ambition could not s gtisfy the longing of her lheart, but, though splendidly page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 78 KATE CAT TlTDER. \ beautiful to the eye, were filled with fiought but dust and ashes. Then she became dejected, disappointed, ald ' lost all further interest in the stage; and, finally, died young, a martyr to unsatisfied ambition. As this was Kate's first effort in this direction, she was quite anx- iofisto know how it might be received. She was soon gratified, aind, as she opened the last number of the :magazine, read- the following : ':'The Mind and Heart,' by Elsie Greenwood, has been tdo long delayed "'for so good a story, and shall appear in the next number." The story attracted the attention of Mr. Thllorning, for he knew Kate's sigllature. He remembered wlat , she had once said to him,- that she must feel an ilm- pression, and be herself interested in her subject, be- fore she could do it jutstice. He considered this the best production of her pen, and colljectured that she must have llad some experience to be able to tell her story in so striking a manner. "You may be sure that our Kate has fallen in love hhe said one day to -his wife. ',Why so?-"As a reply, Mr. Thorning sleowed his wife the story. She read it through, and was of the same opinion. "But who do you suppose is :the object of- her affections?" she asked. "Perhaps Herbert Willard: they seemed very much interested in -each other before leaving school." Mrs. Thorning hor ped it might- be so, as she considered them very well suited tQ each other. i, . . e CHAPTER XI. FREDERIC ARNOLD. IN an artist's studio, situated on Broadway, where that thoroughfare is most crowded, sat Frederic Arnold. The apartment was elegantly furnished; books in costly bindings were on the shelves; original paintings by the best masters graced'the walls, and a row of marble columns were ranged along its whole length. The room -had been fitted up in costly style by Mr. Manning. He thought he would encourage his neplew to a diligent pursuit of his profession, by- making his room attractive to him. There was noth- ing in the studio that looked like work, except an un- finished portrait of a lady resting on the' easel. Our artist was altered strangely, both in look and manner. There was. a wildness in his eye, and a careless legli- gence in his dress, entirely unlike his appearance when we saw him last. He looked like a man recovering from -a fever, or some intemperate indulgence: he was trying to regain -the energy and collect the senses that had been somewhat scattered of late. If he had wished to give a correct account of the manner in which he had passed the last few weeks of his life, he could not have done so. Of one thing he was sure: the ti-me ' had not been spent ih a creditable manner. 79 page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 = KATE CATLT ENDER. ; Disappointment caused by unrequited love was by him deemed a sufficient excuse for plunging into any excesses. - With returning reason, again came to him the thought of Kate Callender. He accused her as the cause of all his wrong-doing. With such a wo- man's love as an incentive to usefulness and virtue, he could be a saint: without It, a devil. Had you asked Frederic Arnold, previous to his meeting with Kate Callender, if he had ever been in love, he would have answered, "Yes, twenty times;" but now. hle be- lieved that he had experienced the sentiment for the first time.- He who had usually been so successful in love could not endure the idea of being baffled and rejected by a country school-girl. At this point in his reflections, he turned his gaze towards the portrait of Kate hanging on the wall., The eyes seemed to look down upon him with encouragement and admiration, if- not with love. She had bent that glance upon him more than otnce, he remembered, while he lhad been taking her portrait; and the thought gave him new courage. Kate's picture seemed to have a strange in- : fluence over him. ' By Jove! I'll be a man, and win her love yet," he muttered. He had hardly given utterance to thils resolution, whenhe heard a noise upon the stairs. He knew by the step, and the peculiar thump, thump, of a cane, that his uncle was coming; and lie would have pre- ferred to see any one else while in hispresent eondi- tio. Mr. Mafining gave with his cane some hard knocks on the door, which was immediately opened. .. . . FREDERIC ARNOLD. 81 The uncle was a sharp-sighted man: he noticed the nervous, excited manner of his nephew, so unlike hs usual self-possession, and, suspecting something had gone wrong, said grutffly, ' Then you have not either hanged or drowned yourself, as I expected, from not leaving seen any thing of youjllately." "If such an event had happened, you would prob- ably not have been inconsolable." '"It might be worse, much worse. I would rather see my sister's son ill his coffin than see him living only to be a disgrace to himself and to me." Frederic explained his absence by'stating that he had been unwell, and hIad been in a small country town to recruit. Mr. Manning knew his nephew's habits too well, alnd surmised from appearances that some of the time 'had' been wasted in dissipation. He began to look curiols- ly round the room, and hiis eye glanced towards the half-finished portrait on the easel. "How is it thlat you have not finished that painting? You commenced it at least six moinths ago." Frederic said that sickness hIad interrupted his work: he expected to recommence upon it immediately. "You do not mnean to say that you have been un- well for six monthlls?" "No: I have not been sick all the time ; but I have been ill no mood for painting." Mr. Manning was beginning to be angry. -He had come to speak his mind; and he did not intend to go away till he had- done so. ' It is the same old story: yoiu will not work, because 6 * . page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 . KATE CALT LEDEER. h you are-not in -tle mood. Now, I wish you to under- stand that you will lIave to work, or starve; for you ,will get no more supplies from me. And, unlless you reform your ways, I -will see to it that not a particle of any-thing, that belongs to me comes into your posses- sion; after my death.." Frederic answered, that he intended to apply him- self closely to his art in future. He did not wish his lincle to give -him any money, but would ask him for the loan of five hundred dollars for present neces- sities, until le could finish the portrait, which would biring a great price, and then he would repay the loan..- ' X After much grumbling and muttering, the old man consented to lend the money, but said he hoped his nephew would behave like a man of honor for once, and repay the debt. It was the first time Frederic had ever asked for a loan: he had seemed to expect to be gratuitously supplied heretofore; and his un6le was inclined to regard this as a new ruse to extort money. Mr. Maniling continued to examine the state of -affairs about the room. He took, down some costly volumes ,from the shelves, expatiated upon the amounts they had cost him, and the poor returns he had received for all his trouble and iexpense. Frederic was in no mood to bear these reproaches: besides, his own conscience was awakened, and he was already feeling the penitence and remorge that usually , follow evil deeds. Tihe taunting words aggravated him exceedingly; ;but h2e kttew by experience that it would be of little S FREDERIC ARNOLD. 83 use to express what he felt on the subject, as his uncle would place no confidence in any good resolutions he miglt form. He was very glad to shut the door, at last, on his re- treating uncle, who was no sooner out of sight and liearing than the nephew gave vent to his wrath by shaking his fist irreverently towards the direction of the retiring form, and muttering fiercely, "If you should fall down those stairs and break your neck, you would do yourself no harm, and might bring good fortune to somebody." Surely there could have been but little true affection existing between this uncle and this nephew. - Frederic Arnold did applyhimself to his work with new energy; and the pure image of that lovely girl that graced his room became to him an inspiration. The determination he had formed of deserving 'and winning her love became an incentive for him to vir- tue and exertion. All! could he have only kept these good resolutions! - ' ' "* page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] .' . ' * ' CHAPTA R XII. THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMA'AM AND THE BLUE-STOCKING. ONE morning, very early, Kate 'was sitting in her room, with pen anid paper before her. She was holding her pen indolently, and admiring the bright- ness of. the sun throlugh the window, and wishing she 'mighlt transfer its radiant tints to her paper. Han- nail was rattling the broom, and brushing away tile dirt near Kate's door, and singing, "For I am to be queen of the May, mother,'-&c. All at once she threw open Kaate's door, anid ex- claimed, "I should certainly think, by your looks and attitude,that you were some moon-struck damsel." OhI, no! not moon-struck, but sun-struck, just now. I am wishing I could write a graphic descrip- tion of that rising sun." l "'What a useless occupation that would be! I have come to propose a more sensible way of spending your time., ' Well, let me know what it is: if agreeable to me, I will not object." "I wish to make a visit to a sick friend for a few days, and should like to have you take charge of my schlool in the mean time." '.' ' . . - -"* ' ' * THE VILLAGE SCHOOT MA'AlX 85 " I will gladly do so, if you will only instruct me in your system. I have -no eiperience, and do not understand managing very well." "We can easily arrange matters if you will go into the school with me for a day or two, take notice of my mode of managing, and follow the directions I will give you." Kate agreed, aild went with her sister. That she watched her movements closely, Hannah had good reason to believe by what she discovered afterwards: tlhat she profited by the directions given her was not so certain. Upon her return, Hannalh found her school demor- alized, and in a state of confusion ; her scholars in insubordination. Kate had given them long recesses and short- lessons; letting them lhave pretty much tlheir own way. - Hannahll soon found out how Kate had contrived to amuse herself, and pass away the time; as she fouud'in the desk a description, not very flattering, of herself. The subject begatn withha prelude, as follows:-- "MSs CALLENDER, - As you saw fit to draw away my attention from the radianlt beaias of the rising sun, the fragrance of the early dawn, and the pearl- like glitter of the dewdrops, that were about to give eloquence to my pen, I feel bould in duty to employ my poor wit inl youlr behalf, by sketching the interior of your village school, as it appeared to me. "( On a warm and sultry day, the presiding -goddess g- of the village sohool was promenading her domains - . ; '- " ' , ^" " - ' **'-- '\- page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 KATE CATLJFNDER. with all the consequence and majesty imaginable, and wielding with merciless power her birchen sceptre. ,Shle seemed wonderfully suited to her vocation: her eye and ear had become quickened in the service-; and the. birch she bore appeared as it it naturally apper- tained to her, and, without that, she would constitute only a part of the perfect whole now presented. "Hers was no picture of feminines loveliness. Such looks would not grace a heroine. There was nothing there for fancy to dwell upon, or likely to inspire a sonnet: love-lorn swains would have looked strangely 'out of place sighing for mercy at her feet, or pressing softL kisses upon lips-too rigid and commol sensical to be either melted or flattered. In short, hers was a physiognomy plain and matter-of-fact, and expressed, naught: but unmixed utilityand a shrewd, dearly- bought faculty for detecting youthful wiles. But -enough of the schoolma'am. "A few of the juveniles were stretched upon their hard bencles, enjoying a blissful oblivion, notwith- standing the abundance and the impertinence of the flies, and of the oppressive heat; others, who had but lately been admitted to the school, and who as yet felt an awe of the birch, which was in perpetual mo- tion, eyed withll anxious look its awful activity; and sat erect upon their seats, as firm and motionless as if they had been pinioned. 'There -were others, who had been: longer at the school, and whom custom had hardened, who showed bold, defiance and reckless disregard of birchen rule :(whloose smrart, experience told them, time would soon , t THE VILLAG;E' SCHOOLbrA'AM, 87 heaD ; and they tore their books and made ugly faces, in spite of its fearfil/threats and frequen't applicatioils. On the floor stood -a group of delinquents, whose dirty, streaked faces bore witness that tears had been the only ablution they had received that day. Having neglected their appointed tak-s,'they were doomed to remain standing, with books iM hand, as an expiation of their offenlces. "Owing to their close proximity, and the extreme difficulty of maintainling their upright position, t!hey were sipping draughts, by no means cooling, from the fount of learning. Frequently crowding each other for more-room, they would jostle their next neighbor, nearly destroying lis equlilibrium, alld causing him to utter discordant ald forbidden sounds. But'the magic wand had great power; for faces broadened by grins, and those distorted by fear, suddenly became length- ened over books, and the crafty urclins assumed an appearance of studiousness and gravity that would have done credit-to their grandsires. "Benleath the imperial throne, alias the desk, of her majesty, was confined a notorious reprobate of cunning: rare. After the- utteralicq of a shri'ek from Joe Scott, he had been collvicted of inflicting a pincl on the arm of the said Joe-; and it was for this offence thlat the. young aggressor was sentenced to a separatioli from llis companions, and to solitary confinement. His situ- ation was altogether too secluded for one of his - abili- ties and. activity, and his limited bounds were ill suited toso fi-ee a nature and to so inspiring a genius: in: short, our little friend was not at -home.- To relieve page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 82 . 88 KATE CALLENDERB. -the monotony of Ilis confinement, he placed himself in- every posture he could imagine, both rectangular and horizontal. He scratched out all the o's from his spelling-book with a pin; and, removing from it all tle pictures that came under his -notice, he pasted them around him, if they might, perchance, relieve the soli- -tude of his prison-house. At length, remembering Mhis; compallions, curiosity and his remarkably social nature aroused an ilterest illn their welfare, and prompted him 'to peep fortl- that he might see their good works. Even his daring spirit felt some timidity at. the un- dertaking. He ventured, however, and'immediately shrank back, pale with fear; for he encountered the glance of his teacller, who showed her indignation by cuffing him severely with her horny nail. "Now the schoolma'am seats herself, and lisping children assemble around her, that they may imbibe the rudiments of knowledge. With anl expression ,of awful reverence on their young faces, they gaze inllto hers, and repeat the sounds she utters with studied im- itation' and noisy effect. Though the young' aspiran ts might sneeze in her face, or wipe their noses on her apron, she does not wince, but, even at this not un- common occrrence, sits sublime and unmoved in all - her grandeur. Now her quick ear detects a slight com- motion made by the regiment on the floor; and, waving the birch about their heads, each one feels the- tingling dealt by her skilful haitd. In a corner somewhat remote from the teacher, a. youth of audacious mien sits upon his seat with great apparent u'neasiness. He had caught all the flies that THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMA'AM . 89 had dared to venture into his vicinity, and kept -them- tied by the legs till they had become dismembered, or till existence with thelm had ceased. Having exhausted this source of amusement, he was -looking round for a new pastime. At length he thinks of- the window above him, and slowly raises himself that lie may enjoy the prpspect without, a forbidden pleasure. . From lis observatory he perceives Farmer Brown trying to persuade an unruly cow into the pasture; and is ex- ceedingly diverted by the proceedings. So greatly is he interested, that, at last, he loses all recollection of his whereabouts and-the extreme danger of his pres- ent position. "' Now she is going in,' soliloquized our hero, wholly intent on the subject before him. ' No: -she is going by ;' and he uttered an audible ' Heigh [!' for the purpose of stopping the cow, but which, instead, draws dQwn upon himself the wrath of the angry goddess. He hears a whizzing sound; and, as a blow falls upon lini, the transgressor turns round, and perceives that it is the lady of the birch who is thus' bringing him back to a- painful knowledge of his true place. Shrinking into his seat, the discomfited boy'is left to guess, amid lis smarts, whether or not the farmer suc- ceeds by the use of his stick. Tliougll our hero might. rend the air witlh his cries, he could not stun her; and she had been too long(r accustomed to such sounds to be in any degree softened by them. ' Now the proclamation is issued that will-release the little culprits from their ,-prison, .ill enable cramped limbs to resume their elasticity, .hd begins erw, limb * , r ai : v* page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] %- 90 KATEA .CLLENDER. to brighten all the sad faces. 'Put away your books: school' is to be dismissed.' It has been so declared by the teacher herself; and though drowsy urchins, roused from their slumbers, and striving to peep from ; their half-opened eyes, hardly credit this good fortune, it is a fact, nevertheless. Still, they must await their turn, and file, out with military precision, while ,she of the birch guards the march with watchful eye. They did not feel their freedom till the fresh breeze of - heavenl blew upon their faces. Then, only, did they regain the elasticity and joyousness of youth. '-They ar aall gone at- last, iand the schoolma'am is left alone; perhaps she tarries a moment to enjoy ' - the quiet solitude. But, in a few moments, sIle, too, has departed, and left her dominion to the Goddess of Silence." - ! i- Having read the above with a dissatisfied air, Han- -: nahturned the paper over, and, on the other side, -- discovered a 'description of "A Blue-stocking," from -thl same pen, written in Kate's exaggerated style. -' Feeling3,curious to know how that subject might be T -treated, Hannah began to read as follows: - '( What cause is there for the gloom that shrouds ; -yonder farmhouse, for the silence tihat reigns with- in :it? aan it. be that the grim monster, Death, has :-entered the dwelling, and, with resistless power, has : sught out and- seized its victim? Has the great reaper cut down with his sickle some tender plant, 'snatchiing it from the bosoms of those that love it so 4 THE BLUE-STOCKING. 91 well? Has a soul escaped from the land of mortality,- to seek an eternal abode in the land of -the immor- tal? : "It is, in truth, a house of mourning; but the grief is not for the dead, but. the living. The inmates mourn for a soul that they deem estranged from , - them. Wlhat a solemn group is assembled within! There is but one of them joyous, and her they seem to consider as cause enough for their'sorrow. '"The father gazes moodily into the fire, which seems unable to light up his careworn brow, whch. is covered: with many fitrrows of recent date. Thee, mother is industriously plying her knitting-needles, and their click, click, is the only sound- that breaks the solemn silence. Her fingers now alnd thein cease t heir rapid. motion', while she darts towards the one of dreams and visions a look of unutterable sorrow. A brother and a sister, gazing at her with reproachful looks, complete the assembled group. " What can hlave caused so great sorrow? What' , canst thou hlave done, fair one, to awaken such deep griefS? Thy broad, open brow speaketh 1lot of guilt, and thine eyes sparkle withllwit and genius, Ah! but- this merry, light-hearted girl dared to soar above her humble origin,-- was bold enough to write her name in the golden Temple of Fame. 'The terrible crime of which she is accused-is, writing articles for a periodical magazine. She has bidden farewell to the broom, the spinning-wheel, and the. shuttle, so. skilfully wielded by her ancestors, to page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] - 92 KATE CATLL,NDER, . \ weave'the golden threads of fancy into -a glittering web of romance. t' , ' ' "The- mother, whose highest, dream of ambition is to have stockings enough- knit to 'supply the wear and: tear of the winter months, and the father, who- has built no greater castle ,above th e earth than that his harvest may be abundant, now behold in their rosy-cheeked daughter the sad spectre of a' Blue- stocking. "The power which has enrolled another victim in its well-filled pages is the Press, and the great reaper a Pubiisher! "The father, wishing to obtain his Bible, that he ' may read a chapter for consolation, searches in vain for his 'spectacles, which, in his abstraction, he forgets are on the top:of his head. He reaches-the-book; but, in reaching, it, lhe stumbles, and the large family Bible falls heavily upon the foot of his wife. She, being 'afflicted with that dire nuisance, I corns,' breaks the silence by uttering a loud cry of pain. How quickly, O weak mortal I do the pains of the body obliterate the sorrows of the minrd! ' The mother is absorbed in her new afflictioni, the father recovers possession of the Bible, and the brother iand sister resume the employments which the late :sceineshad inteirrupted, occasionally glancing round to see if the spirit of their romantic sister is hovering near: whilst tliou, whom thiey deem a fanatic visionary, dost laugh atthem; thou dost look with merry eye on this solemn -scene. O blighted householdt! Oh the horrors of possessing a-blue-stocking!" THE BLUE-STOCkING. 93 Kate had dashed this off carelessly anld tthought- lessly, not intending that it shonld be seen by any one. Had she tliought that Hannah would have discovered it, and shown it to her parents, she would- have applied to the case some of the teaching that Miss Lovering had given her: "That she should carefully prune and revise whatever she wrbte." From this article she would have pruned away many extrava- gances, and inserted more'of filial respect. Kate's wit was daring, and her mirth sparkling; while underneath the laughing surface was a current of love and tender- ness, ever full and flowing. Her parents knew this well; and they were ready to cover her faults with the mantle of charity. . . page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] b . , m d . I P - ACHAPTER X ll. DEPRESSION, IT was one of those halcyon Indian-summer days of :autumn, that make the young heart feel blithe and happy, and the middle-aged that their youth has come back to them.'- There had been a .gentle shower; and the clouds were rapidly disappearing,and the sun Was beginning to send forth its warm rays. But Kate Callender seemed to be excepted from its genial influence. She waSexperienciIg a season of depression ; for, somehow, this briglt weather awoke sad remi;iscences, and she. could not help comparing her present feeling and asso- ciations with what they had been in the past on similar occasions, She loved society; and the change from sehool-life to the quiet of home was not altogether con- genial to her mind. She was meeting with some suc cess in-her literary labors, though the returns were insufficient for her wants. She began to Whink favor- ably of the situation at the academy: it would at least bring her good wages, andshe might contrive to worry :thriough half of her existence, for the sake of making the othlerhalf enjoyable. Besides, she had made many Plewasaonetof d even I sme r o 1 atun, ht ae h oul hat el9lth4n *' $ DEPRESSION. 95 while attending school; and it would give her an op- portunity of renewing them. Whilst in the middle of these meditations, Hannah bounced into the room, and exclaimed, "If you were- any thing in the world but an authoress, you would not be able to stay in-doors sucli weather as this, sis- ter." "That is because we authors can create our own atmosphere and weather. We can make the sun shine, the clouds lower; the air warm and mild as June, or sharp and cutting like December ; we can bring down, the soft April shower, or send the hail and sleet driving against your windows; we can make the south wind fan your cheek gently, or rouse old Boreas with Novem- ber breath to chill you almost to your soul, and drive you shivering to the warmest corner of the fireside." This was uttered by Kate in her serio-comic style. "I acknowledge and submit to the power-you pos- -sess. I know very well by experience that you can transform me from -a quiet, orderly-person into a vixen- ish schoolma'am; you can afflict our dear mother with corns, if you choose; and, in fact, make any thing- of us that happens to suit your fancy." "But you will all forgive me, as you know very well that I had no malicious intent." "' We shall have to overlook it, I suppose, as ' what can't be cured must be endured.' But I wish- to pro- pose to you a walk to the village with me, if you are not too much engaged. I have some shopping to do, and. would like to call at Dr. Morrison's," Thteir way led across pastures, through woods, over page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] ,-196 . KATE CATTLLENDER. walls and fences; this being the shortest route to the village. - Hannah was cheerful and sociable, ever disposed to' look on the bright side of life, and tried to entertain her sister with lively talk. Though Kate was ill good :h-ealth, and surrounded by comforts; though she could see nothing objectionable ill the sky above or the earth around her, - there was yet a something undefinable, necessary to her contentment, that she did not possess. Mrs. Morrison was very glad to see Kate. She had just received a long letter from her daughter, and was delightpd with the chance of showing its contents tot any one. Margaret's letter was full of expressions of happi- ness and coiltent. The gay and exciting'mode of life in the city suited her exactly; and she should feel in no hurry to return home, but for enjoying more the society of her dear father and mother. Dr.- Morrison came iii during the reading of the missive, and said, 1' He had no doubt but. that Mar-, garet had "managed to get up to her-neck in the sea of politics, or she would never be so contented away from home." ,Kate held the same'opinion, but she had enough discretion to keep it to herself ;- for she had often re- ceived letters from her friend, in which she spoke of 'the hopeful prospects of her reformatory plans. Mrs.- Morrison did not share in her husband's antip- athy to Margaret's vagaries. She looked upon them as innocent delusions, not likely to harm herself or anybody else. She would have been glad tod have DEPRESSION. 97 more of her daughters' society at home; but, like most mothers, she was willing to sacrifice her owin pleasure for the sake of advancing the happiness of her child. In the -mean time, Hannah had been round gather- ing up the gossip. of the village. She soon came in th Dr. Morrison, and made known the report she had heard, that Herbert Willard was engaged to Matty Davidson. But little credit was given to the rumor, however; for those best acquainted with Matty said that she had a preferellce for a rictl husband, and that Willard had nothing to depenld on but his talents and energy. But the information came from a letter of Fanny Fletcher, who was visitincg at Mr. Davidson's, and, therefore, would know the truth of the matter. Kate believed it to be true. She knew that there was but little sincerity in Herbert's love-making to herself; she knew, also, that lie desired some tender- attachment, some one to cheer alld encourage him, and that Matty had just the right kind of suscepti- bility of heart to cllarm liim. Slle saw in each a fit- ness for the other, anld was rejoiced at the engage- ment. While on the way home, Kate told her sister that she had about made up her mind to accept the place of teacher at the academy, if she could still obtain it. Hannah .was pleased to hear this. She regarded- it as the dawn of good sense and reason on Kate's part, and said all she could to encourage and fix the decision. page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98 - 1KATE CALLENDER. I know I shall find the duties irksome; and I suspect that I have but little capacity for them," said Kate with a sigh. , "But that you will not know till you are tried. I should consider myself remarkably fortunate to have such a situation offered me." - "I should hardly take upon myself such a respon- sibility," said Kate; "were it not that Mr. Thorning, the principal, would give me his aid, and do all in his power to make my labors easy. Do you know, Han- nah, that I often wish we were rich, that I might have a better opportunity of following my own incli- nations?" "But what would you do in that case?" -"I would go to the -city, as Margaret Morrison has dole, and would plunge into all its gayeties and ex- citements. I would see more of life, human life, than it is possible to do in this little village." ? Kate said this in such a disappointed, sorrowfull tone of voice, that it occurred to Hannah at once that sihe was suffering unhappiness from some unknown cause. Whatever was the occasion for her sadness, Kate kept it a secret in her ownl bosom: not even to her only sister would she confide the, incessant yearn- ings of her heart. *-, . CTHAPER XIV. HOPE. T was after sunset when they reached home. 'The moon had already risen, and was diffusing its silvery light over the landscape. Hannah opened the front door, alld went immediately up stairs to put away her things. Kate was about to follow, but loitered a moment. She glanced carelessly through the half-open door of the sitting-room, ald her eye caught a glimpse of a Iman's figure nlear the window. At the sight, tle, blood receded from hler cheeks: she scarcely knew whether or not she was dreaming. That form was one she had often seen while asleep, but had giveln all hope of ever seeing again -i reality. She stepped ilto the room, and Frederic Arnold rose and stood before her, his face beaming with love. EIe took both of her hands iln his, alid she made no resist- auce; he placed one arm around her waist, and softly whispered, "I have not chlerished in'vain the hope that I might yet gain your love. Will you not grant it to me nlow?" Kate's face expressed love, serenity, and trust. She smiled; and, fixing her dark eyes, full of love pure as a seraph might feel, upon him, she said-in her s, . - page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 . KATE CALLENDER. lowest tone," It is even so." He drew such a bril- liant picture of happiness, that Kate was. bewildered and dazzled. He told her that lie would gain honor greatness, a!d wealth for both of them; that, when he sought for fame, it was only for her sake, and what he wonhe should lay at her feet. He spoke of his prospects of wealth: that his pro- fession was very lucrative, and that he was the only heir of a rich uncle. No wonder Kate's susceptible heart was thrilled; for lie poured illto her willing ear passionate eloquence and romantic adoration, and Ilis graceful, inlsinuating address captivated her ardent imagination. He aroused her tender sympathies by speaking of the despair she had brought upon him )by her rejection of his love, and saying that lie had only 'been kept from some act of desperation by deter- mined and unreinittingl application to 1his profession. Wliile engaged at his work, the hope of gaifling ller love had kept his spirits up, and he had delayed see- ing her again, because he feared another rejection ; for he had preferred to cherish even vain hopes, rather than endure the crushing reality of a refusal again. :e explained llis sudden anld ulnlooked-.for appar- ance on that day by stating that he lhad waked up in the- morning :with an uuaccountably hopeful feeling, that had inspired him with courageand determination to "know his fate, to learn it from her own lips. Klate compared this, her lover's state of minld, with her ownl unsatisfied, inexplicable longings tlirough, the day, and thought she perceived in these mysterious circum- stances the hand of fate working out her destiny, HOPE. 10t A diamond ring of rare value glistened on Arnold's ]land; and he proceeded to give Kate a very curious account (but the trute one) of the manner in which it had come into his possession. "When I took my departure from the city, to seek retirement and repose in the little village of Waterford, . s where I had the good fortune to meet you first, I left upon my easel an unfinished portrait. I knew but little of my patroness, except that she was a married lady of fine manners and distinguished appearance, aild that she was wealthy. She was rather dilatory in attending to the engagements we made for her sittings, or I should have finished the painting before leaving. "Soon after my return to the city, a gentleman came to my studio to make inquiries of the progress of the picture. His manner was excited and anxious; but he soon explained the cause by-illforming me-that his- wife, the original of the hlalf-finished portrait, had died suddenly. He lamented that it had not been com- pleted, and asked me if I could finish it in- a satisfac- tory manner from memory. I told him I thoughllt I should be able to do so, as I had now nearly all tle outlines, and her features were of that peculiar style that were calculated to make an impression on the memory. -The gentleman wished me to work on the picture only while he was present; and lie came every day, regularly, to superintend and dictate; and some- times he suggested-alterations in'the work. .At last, assistedby his advice and by my own memory,.I com- pleted the portrait to his entire satisfaction. He told me that he -scarcely knew how to adequately express , E, page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 'KATE CALLENDER. his:thanks for the gratification I had given him. He paid me more money than I should have ventured to charge -for my work, and gave me in addition this diamond -ring, as a token of his appreciation of my success. - "I can make no better use of-it than to transfer it to the hand of one who is dearer to me than wealth or fame."- As he said this, he drew the jewel from his own hand, and placed it gently on Kate's tapering finger. Kate felt happy and proud as she received the ring. She was happy to accept such a proof of his love, and proud to think that it had been the reward of-his genius.: When Frederic Arnold first arrived, he found none of the family at home'. but'Mrs. Callender. He gave her his name, and asked for Kate; and said that he had formed her acquaintance while she had been attending the academy. Mrs. Callender remembered hearing lher' daughter speak of him incidentally as halving painted her portrait, and cordially invited him to remain till Kate's return. Having seen her guest comfortably seated, she com-' menced making preparations for tea. Every thing was hot and steaming on the table. Mr. Callender had come for his supper, but Kate did not make her 4appearance. -":Why is Kate absent so late-? said Mr. Callender. ": She is with- a visitor in the parlor, whom she found waiting for her when we returned home," said Hoannah. + 4 * . HOPE. 103 Mr. Callender made some'inquiries with regard to the visitor, but neither Hannah nor her mother could give him much information on the subject. They delayed tea for a while, waiting for Kate to make her appearance; but, as she did not come; they finally concluded to ring the tea-bell. The sound roused Kate from her blissful dreams. She had no idea of how the nmoments had flown. With blushing cheeks and sparkling eyes, she went into the supper-room, Frederic Arnold by ller side. He had already introduced himself to her mother, and Kate presented him to her father and sister. Handsome, and possessed of insinuating manners, lie soon gained the good will of the father and mother. He had an inexhaustible fund of anecdotes and adven- -ture, and had a rare talent for relating them. Hannlah's eyes soon detected the diamond spar-. kling on Kate's finger, and surmised that there was more than a common iliterest between the parties. A harvest-moon was shedding its mild beams over the earth. Love likes such half-illuminated dark- ness, and our lovers went out to walk in its silvery light. What the moon and stars saw and heard, we shall not tell. Suffice it to say, that they talked lovers' talk, and made lovers' vows. Everybody is supposed to know what love is; for, if they have not experienced it in their own. lives, they have had plenty of opportunities for reading of its mysterious workings. The dreamers rambled on in the winding paths, through pasture and woodland, and " took no note of ,ii * ,$ s page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 104 KATE CALLENDER. time. The pale moon looked down upon them and the bright stars winked at then, as if they knew what was going on; but our lovers saw them not. The leaves rustled, and the wind sighed mournfully amid the trees; 'but they heard nought, save the beating of their own hearts. The maiden forgot her cherished dreams of fame, and the realities of the present, in that blissfuill hour, as she was encircled by, the arms of her lover, and listened to his protestations of de- votion, and to such vows of love as could convert fancy into reality, and darkness even into day. Alas for love's waking! 'Tis well that fancy can sometimes conceal the darkness of the future by a web of illusion ; else how often would present happi- ness be marred by a knowledge of future woe! In the mean time, the family were left to speculate concerning the visit and conduct of the new comer. That there was a love-interest between Mr. Arnold and Kate, they had no doubt: they did not require a wizard's power to' discover that fact. But they could not conjecture why she had spoken so little of an ac- quaintanoe that seemed of so much importance to lher. Hannah remembered that - Kate had been very much, unlike her -former self ever since she 1had quitted school. She also recollected how despondent her sister hadobeen all that day, and how it had then flashed upon her mind that Kate had some secret trouble to oppress lher. She, told her parents that she doubted not that Mr. Arnold and Iate were old lovers; and explained her HOPE. !05 sister's silence on the subject by supposing that they must have had a lovers' quarrel, which had been set right by the re-appearallce of the gentleman. As this seemed probable, they were ready to accept Hannah's views of the case. Kate's parents lad ceased to be much surprised at any thing she might do, or any thing that might happen to her. She had always been somewhat peculiar and unaccountable -in her conduct; and they could not measure her by the same rules that they did the doings of their other children. The life of some people is like a boat without sail, moving gently over the unruffled surface of a lake, or "Iike a painted ship upon a painted ocean;" while that of others is like a full-rigged ship, with all sails set alow and aloft, which is now tossed about roughly by the winds and storm, ungoverned by its helm, and now sails rapidly and triumphantly over a smoother sea to its desired haven. There was something in the very elements of Kate Callender's nature which prevented ler from living a quiet, -commonplace life. Just as impossible this would be for her as for her brother and sister to rise on the pinions of fancy and genius. Most fortunate was it for Kate that she possessed more- than the common fortitude of woman, to enable her to endure the vicissitudes of her checkered life. vl, page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] CHAPTER XV. LOVE. KATE'S cup of happiness was full to overflowing. The winter she had so much dreaded was warmed and cheered by the many letters and frequent visits of her lover. She resumed again those wild, out-door rambles that she had enjoyed so much before entering the academy. Every nook where she had strolled with Arnold was rendered doubly-dear and sacred by pleasant associations and memories. Her clear, ringing laugh was often heard throughout the house, and it gladdened her parents' hearts to see her so happy. Tley were inclined to encourage Mr. Ar- nold's attentions, for he had made a favorable impres- sion on their minds. Because marriage had brought. them so much genuine happiness, they thought it would bring joy, content, and peace of mind to Kate also. Hannah liked occasionally to joke her sister on her new prospects. One day, she said, "Though you have often expressed yourself against marriage, Kate, I can see some ominous signs that you will be likely to need a wedding-dress before long, and also have a matrimonial yoke around your neck." "I have discovered that it is a pleasant thng to 106 97" "OVE. 107 love and be loved, though I have not counted on my married'joys as yet. If I thought that my bright,illu- sions would all vanish with marriage, as seems to be the case with some couples, I would remain single, in order to keep my love-lamp still burning." Hannah laughed outright :-she could not appreciate sentiment, and answered, "Give me comfort aid sub- stantial things in preference to your illusions. My idea of matrimonial bliss consists in lhaving a snug cottage of my own to manage. I would like to have it neatly carpeted and furnished. I should wish my husband to be steady and industrious; I should like to have him respect me, and be satisfied with my house- keeping. I should wish him to attend to his business, too, and not be sitting on a lounge, gazing into my eyes and holding'my hands all day. That way of pass- ing the time may suit gentlemen who paint portraits, and ladies who write love-stories and sketches; bl t it is not to my taste." This was intended, as may be seen, for a sly thrust at Kate; but she enjoyed it. Though the sisters were very different in character, they never disputed or quarrelled. :Somehow, Kate's lover had found but little favor in Hannah's eyes; but her objections were of a trifling kind, and she had kept them to herself. She thought his voice too effeminate, and his hands too soft and white: and then he wore his hair parted in the mid- dle, which somebody has said "is a sign of a knave or a fool';" though we consider that a mistake. These little things did not correspond with- her ideas of man- page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] -KATE CATAT EFNDER. liness. He wrote letters to Kate, filled with all sorts of endearments; and, when lie came to visit her, would hardly be out of her sight for a moment. Hannah had ing faith, in such extravagant devotion: she did not believe it could be lasting. They did not continue the conversation, as John came in, bringing a letter. His employment now kept him in al adjoining town most 6f the time; but he usually came home once a week. "Is it for me? and is it a precious letter?" asked Kate. ( It is for you; but I don't know how precious it may be. It has, however, come from a long way off," said John, as he handed her the missive. - "Oh! it is from Fanny Fletcher," said Rate, glancing at the outside. She opened it, and commenced read- ilg aloud. John betrayed some interest by remaining to listen. "MY DEAREST KATE,-I have htherto neglected to write you, because I have had so much enjoyment that I could not filnd time. We hare parties or excursions of some kind nearly every day. But I cannot stop to enter into the particulars of my pleasures, as I have something of more importance and interest to tell you. Herbert Willard and Matty Davidson are en- gaged. This happened just before we left school: but Matty did not wish that any of us should know it then, for fear we might laugh at her; as, you know, she always said she would have none but a rich husband, and Herbert is neither rich nor handsome. But Matty "OVE. 109' consoles herself now by saying that it is much better for a person ipt to marry theirideal, as they are sure to be disappointed if they do. She says if she should follow her first foolish fancy, she should probably marry some perfumed dandy like Frederic Arnold; and she is very thankful now, that she did not have a chance of accepting him." Here Kate made a very wry face, and John and Hannah laughed. "'.Every one to their taste,' as the old woman said when she kissed her cow. "' De gustibus non est dis- putandum, "said Kate; and consoled herself with the quotations. Be it remembered that Fanny Fletcher was many miles away, and was entirely' ignorant as to how mat- ters stood with Frederic Arnold and Kate, or she would not have expressed herself so candidly. Peo- ple often make similar blunders, through ignorance of existing relations. Kate resumed her reading: - "But I have not told you all, nor the worst of it, yet. Her father opposes the engagement: he says that no daughter of his shall marry a poor charity-student. He knows nothing about him, and will listen to noth- ing in his favor. Matty has Iris picture, and 'her father has seen it; but you know it is not very pre- possesing, and does not flatter him at all.- Herbert has light hair and eyes, and one of those expression- less countenances that do not take well in a picture ; but when he grows eloquent and impassioned in public speaking. (as we have often seen him), he is very fine- looking. X page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] 1 O KATE CATLTEvINUiDJK ":Matty gazes on his picture for hours, and drops tears over it: I think she must have discovered some beauty in it. , She says, she should surely die if she had not me liere to ,wlom to confide her troubles; and I am very glad that I canll be of any comfort to her. "We often speak of you, and wish you were here. There are many young people in the neighborhood, and some interesting young men. You might make a matrimonial alliance if you were here; though, I be- lieve, you are not ambitious tin that line. I am my- self somewhat surprised that Matty should have fallen in love with a young man ill such poor circumstances, when she, has opportunities enough to do better. -We often wonder whether orenot you have joined Margaret Morrison yet in advocating' rights.' We always sur- raised that she would convert you, some day, to her- faith. I have a great deal mqre news to write you than this sheet will contain; but shall have to defer it, as Matty wishes to add a few lines, which are to be strictly private. Give my love to John and Hatlnah, and remember me always as your dearest friend, "FANNY." Kate. read aboutMatty's private affairs to herself:- CODEAR FRIEND KTEE,-Fanny has probably told you of my -engagement to Herbert Willard. I know that I can safely confide my feelings to you, without fear of ridicule -or- indifference. I love as I have never loved before. I know that Herbert is poor, and 1' ,- ' " . t , , ,- , ' A "OVE. , 3I that it may be years before he is able to marry; but I do not care for that. Though he should never become prosperous enough to marry me, he will remain true. to me, and I to him; -and his image only shall be en- graved on my heart. Father opposes the engagement decidedly, on account of Herbert's poverty though, if he would only think so, he has riches sufficient for all of us. He says, if I should persist in marrying him in spite of his .opposition, that Mr. -Gordon, the gentleman who pays Herbert's expenses, will have to buy my wedding-dress, and take care of me after- wards. But I am determined to do as I please in this respect; and, whenever Herbert says that he is ready to marry me, I shall consent, whether I have any wedding-dress or not. I would join Margaret Morri- son in her cry for- rights,' if I thought by that means a young woman might obtain the right of marrying the man of her choice. "Herbert has told me all -about his mistake as to his feelings about you, and hlow kindly you set him right. Though you do not. love hm (which is very fortunate for me), I know you respect him, and lhave, a good opinion of his talents. I often wish you were here;' for vou have an eloqueht tongue, ajld might influence father, favorably with regard to Herbert's prospects. I shall be very sorry when Fanny returns home, as she is my greatest consolation. Don't say any thing to Her- bert about father. I would not, for the world, have him hear the cruel things father says concerning him. I fear I have wearied you with my troublesj; but it is a great relief to confide in somebody. If you have any page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] "2 KATE CALTLNWDE R. thinin the way of 'comfort to suggest, please write to youruafflicted and loving friend, 7 : . . "MATTY. K ate was much pleased to learn the certaintyof this engagement; for she esteemed both Herbert and Matty, and'she knew that they were remarkably well adapted to each other. He liked to be regarded with deference and adoration, and .she had just the right spirit to adore and respecthim. But in the father's enmity she could discern the black cloud that was to obscure their happiness. She knew that Herbert Willard was quick-tempered, self- willed, and conceited, and would not be at all likely to bear opposition and dislike patiently. John Callender'hld listened attentively to every 'wordofFanny Fletcher's letter. Though she had men- tioned his nlame but once, and that in a very careless maiirnerstill it was sufficient to awaken a little hope in his- heart,? :'Oh, how he wished that a litte 'word from him might become as precious and important: to her as that had been to him:! . They had been foind of each other as children, and his early affection had, ripened into a:manly love. He was honest and industrious, but had little of that style about him which is attractive to a gay and world- ly girl like Fanny Fletcher. ::A thoughtless young maiden does not always appre- ciate as she ougt!t an honest heart. ,? .* , %.. - CRAPTEK X Vl* MARRIAGE. TW KVI S and months glided on, and Frederic Arnold began to talk frequently of a wedding-day. But Kate's life had been so happy, that she did not care for any change. Not that she had any misgivings con- cerning the character of her lover; but she was fearful lest marriage might disturb her fond dreams, and cause her love to grow cold. She was romantic and imagina- tive; and she could not get rid of her former impres- sions that there was but little romance in matrimony. She surmised that marriage bliss would not' have for her the fascination that lovers' joys had. She knew but little of the real world, and her ideal world was one of beauty and innocence. Her lovewas -. pure and full of trust, and had in it but a small portion Of passionate ardor. She hadno opportunity of learning anything con- cernillng Arnold's antecedents, but what he chose to tell her himself; and he deemed it pr uent:to keep from her knowledge much of his previous course of life. He told her that:part'of it only which reflected credit on himself. Ignorant of the world's vices and deceptions, and' page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] "4' KATE CALTLrENDER. \, - * s , t h f -incapable of artifice herself, Arnold was to her fancy just what he made himself to seem. At + 3.He was-:some ten years- older than Kate ; had seen : m Lnuch of the world, and plunged largely into its vices. But we will do him the credit to state here, that his life had never. been so free from immoralities as since his engagement. It would be next to impossible for any man to be associated with a--- pure-minded young- woman like Kate (allender, without his being influ- enced somewhat for the better. He described to her iln eloquent words tle. new joys likely to come to her as his wife. His income, he said, was sufficient to supply her every want, and gratify every wish of her heart; and she would find that there woujd be no need' for employing here pen, except as a pastime. He told her that he would introduce her to the gay -senes of city-life, which would open to her a new field of enjoyment, differing from any thing she had yet experienced. 'Kate was pleased, with the prospect. Luxury and : ease, and every thing appertaining to wealth, had pe- O culiar charms for her. Besides, Arnold argued that he needed her society and influence near him always, to cheer and en- - courage him. . In view of all the'se circumstances,-Kate consented to name-the wedding-day. :-- Her parents were flattered at the prospect of having such a son-in-law. Though it was a sorrowful pleasure to give up the, care of their daughter to the j Kc v * vT e MABRRIAGE. -5 keeping of another,- a holy sacrifice fond parents are often called upon to make,- they cared not to hinder or delay the arrangement which seemed necessary to 'the happiness of both the young people. Swiftly passed the time away; and soon Kate saw thelast day that was to be wholly her own arrive. The ceremony was to be performed at her- father's house, and only a few relatives and invited friends were to be present. Mr. Arnold arrayed himself with great care for the occasion.' He appeared in a suit of black cloth, which fitted admirably his graceful figure. He had the nicest of gloves on his hands, the best of boots on his small feet, an immaculate shirt-bosom and cuffs, and a wlite satin necktie. No expense had been, spared in his outfit. His brown, glossy hair was brushed smoothly, and sligltly curled, and his beard neatly trimmed., The least prepossessing part of Its countenance was his full, heavy-looking mouth and receding chin; but that detracted nothing from his good looks on his wedding-day, for the lower portion of his face was carefully concealed by the full and well-arranged beard. I liave described the bridegroom, and now H cannot - overlook the bride. A more lovely and richly-adorned one had never been seen in that little village. Kate Callender was a fully-developed woman. Her form was stately and symmetrical. She liad a bright, oval fce, lighted up by soft dark eyes, and a mouth expressive of self-reliance. Her dress was expensive and elaborate. The Ife was n, page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] KATE O ATi LFNDER. en under-dress was of white silk, and the upper of India muslin, opening in front sufficiently to show a small portion Of the silk under-dress. .The front breadth was trimmed with rows of valenciennes and silk bows. A veil of illusion-net was confined to her hair by a band, and hung nearly to the floor. Where the veil was fastened to her hair, bunches of lilies-of-the- valley and orange-blossoms were' arranged in pro- fusion. The marriage was solemnized in the form of the Protestant-Episcopal Church. The voice of Arnold showed no faltering, no doubt as to the fulfilment of his promises, when he took Kate by the right hand, and said,- "I take thee to be my wedded wife, to have and to. hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for. richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love afd to cherish till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth." : ;Certainly, there was earnestness and sincerity ex- pressed in Kate's tone and countenance when :she made her responses; and, when Ariold placed the wedding-ring on the fourth finger of her left hand, she igazed up into her husband's face with a look of confiding trust and happiness that was indescribable. And why should she not be happy? Not a doubt came to' her ownl mind to dim the brightness of her future. . t ' '. - :Alll the joys of the world were before her; and with a lively imagination, and the keen appreciation of MARRIAGE. 117 enjoyment which attends eighteen, how could she help being charmed by their attractions? Among the first to wish the young couple joy was Herbert Willard. He came forward'with his usual self-possessed andssatisfied manner, and said,- "Mrs. Arnold, permit me to offer you my most sincere congratulations on this happy day: and you, also; Mr. Arnold; for you share largely in this good fortune. I hope sunshine and peace will always find an abode in your hearts and home." There was a roguish twinkle in the young bride's. eye as she answered, " May we have the pleasure of wishing you joy on a similar occasion, and at an early day, Mr. Willard!" Herbert noticed her manner, and wondered if she knew of his engagement. He thought how he should some day tell her that he had wooed a second time, in sincerity, anld met with success. I have dwelt long over the details of this ceremony, because I love to linger in pleasant places. Here my task is easy' and my burden light." Should dark times come, and my subject grow sadly oppressive, I will despatch it hastilyi.-I would much rather bring smiles to your faces than tears to your eyes; but I must por- tray the experiences of human life. Frederic Arnold immediately started with his young bride on a long wedding-tour. They visited the prin- cipal cities; they remained long at Niagara; also at other places where natural scenery exists in its greatest magnificence. Kate- Arnold had an opportu- nity of observing the wonders of art and Nature. It is page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] -118; AEATE CAXlTES2DER. not surprising that she was charmed and dazzled, and - that she sometimes imagined herself in dream-land. Her previous!fe had been plain and simple, and she - hadiknown little-of the world outside of her humble village. The novel scenes daily appearing to her view opened in her imaginative mind a current of thought and feeling hitherto-unknow n. Arnold had travelled much. He lead been among the mountains and lakes of Scotland, whose legends had been consecrated by song and ballad ; and he experienced less of novelty and interest in these objects: but he enjoyed much his wife's manifestations of enthusiasm. Mrs. Arnold wearied -at last of sight-seeing, and her husband took her to the home he had prepared in the city of New York. . She thought her husband was rich, -possessed of great resources: and she lad good reason to think so; for he had hired a suite of rooms near Fifth Avenue, and had furnished them in elegant style. The carpets were the richest tapestry, the chairs it and lounges were covered with terry-velvet, and the heavy window-hangings were made of the same rich material. He had brought many of the fine paintings from his studio, and llung them on the walls. Among them was the school-girl, Kate Callender; and, as Mr. Arnold and his wife'gazed upon it, he pointed out to her-the loving expression of the eyes that liad inspired him with sufficient confidence to hope again for her love. Mr. Arnold was by nature extravagant, and had spared no expense in furnishing these rooms. Hp had applied himself diligently to his profession; and, when he was willing-to do so, he met with large pecuniary . ., MARRIAGE. 119 returns. His uncle liept a watchful eye upon him, and was always ready to supply him with liberal al- lowances from his own purse, whenever he manifested signs of leading an honorable life, and attending to his proper business. Mrs. Arnold enjoyed highly the pleasures which wealth afforded, and used the-good things around her without restraint. ' The change was so great from her former humble circumstances, that she almost imagined herself transported to fairy-land. Her husband appeared to cherish for her boundless love and devotion, and gratified her every wish. No worldly care disturbed her tranquil bosom; no cloud obscured the brightlness of her sky. It was pure, calm, and beautiful. Alas'for the uncertainty of earthly hopes! Alas for the vanity of human expec- tations! ,, page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] CAP't XVII \ - - ' . ' - , ' , "'" BA 'SMALL CLOUD. S ARNOLD had scarcely become settled in her tiew abode, when the opera season com- menced. Her husband seemed very fond of display- ing his young wife, and wished her to attend them. Though she liked this amusement much, and it awoke withhi her all her old enthusiasm for the drama, still :she sometimes wished that'her husband would be con-: tent to live for a while a more quiet life, as she felt theneed of rest for herself. In that great, crowded city,Mrs. Arold had but one acquaintance; and that was Margaret Morrison. Margaret no sooner found out where her former schoolmate was located, than she called to see her and offer congratulations. Mrs rnod was delighted with this visit of her friend: to see an old familiar faoe among such a crowd of strangers was to her an mndesc bab Hle pleasure. They kissed each 'other over and hier again, and rejoiced that their good fortune had brought them so near each other. ate o rnold soon found out that she should have -to listen, as usual, to her friend's long harangues on herfavorite subject. n argaret informed her that the 120 A SMALTL CLOUD. 121 cause was progressing; that people were becoming convinced that the' minds of women were not unlike those of men. She said, " You will yet see women in our-pulpits and legislative halls: they will also become practising lawyers and physicians." "But who is to, attend to the rearing of children and to domestic duties, when this state of affairs is brought about?" "There will always be women enough who will be contented with this branch of usefulness, and who will find in it sufficient food for their large and small minds. But you know a great many women never marry. Some never have an opportunity; and some-do lot wish to take on themselves the responsibility. Now, supposing, among this large class of unmarried women, there-are some who -possess talents for the ministry, medicine, or the law .- would you have them smother their talents, and take in washing, or go out sewing, for a bare living, when they might gain honor and competence in either of these professions, could they but have the liberty to follow out their own inclina- tions?" " "I should think they might employ themselves more honorably with the pen." "Some men cannot distinguish themselves as writ- ers, yet they make good doctors and lawyers. It' may be the same with woman." Kate had but little power in argument. Besides, she had fever had an opportunity of learning much about the pros and cons. on the subject. She wished to direct Margaret's mind to some other topic of con- page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 KATE CALLENDER. versation; and accordingly asked, "(Why have you never married, Margaret?" : "For the best, of reasons: I have lived in this city long. enough to have learned a great deal of life, - do- mestic life; and I consider matrimony to be a lottery, with few prizes and many blanks. You may have n drawn a prize: I might have the misfortune to draw a blank. At any rate, I do not mean to sacrifice the few rights r possess as a woman by marrying. But how did it happen that you, Kate, should have been drawn illto the matrimonial noose? While we were at the boarding-school together, you advocated the cause of single-blessedness with as much seeming good faith and decisional as I did my ownl ideas. While you have departdd from your own teachings, I am still carrying out the principles which I advo- cated in those by-gone days." It was rather difficult to explain the" situation" to an unromantic, unimaginative young woman like Mar- garet Morrison ; but Mrs. Arnold undertook to do so. "What I said on the subject of matrimony was my true feeling at the time, and expressed with honesty of purpose. I had an idea, that, by remaining single, I should be of more use in the world, and should have opportunity of exercising and improving myself intel- lectually. I hold the same opinion now, to some de- gree; for I find this happiness that I now enljoy tends to produce a sort of intellectual apathy. Present en- - joyments seem to satisfy me; and I feel less of the interest and inspiration that formerly prompted me to a diligent use of the pen. A SMALLT CLOUD. 123 " But before I can make you understand thoroughly my reason for changing my course of life, you must yourself realize the mysterious workings of love." Margaret Morrison opened ller eyes wide, and gazed at her friend in a wondering and mystified manner. Romance'was not in her nature ; and she had a very in- distinct and undefined idea of what were the " myste- rious workings of love." However, as she tried to turn every thing she possibly could to the advantage of her theory, she replied, " I believe the mysterious some- thing you speak of is the very thing that keeps poor weak woman in a state of subjection and inferiority." -" I have no doubt," said Kate, " that it has brought much misery, as well as happiness, to many a woman." "I hope," said Margaret, " to steer clear of any of these dangerous shoals." Ind, true enough, Margaret Morrison never did realize " the mysterious workings of love." The doctrines of the " strong-minded woman " had such complete possession of her mind, that they allowedno space for the indwelling of the sentiment of love. Wedded to her cherished hobby, she feels no necessity for a husband's love, but is moving on in the steady march of events, performing faithfully her al- lotted portion of work ill the world, and adding, we believe, something to its improvement and advance- ment. , At this point of the conversation, Mr. Arnold entered. He recognized Margaret Morrison at once, as being one of the former pupils of the academy, and soon joined with her in pleasant conversation. "'- page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 KATE' CALLTEWDER. After talking a while on indifferent matters, Marga- ret expressed a wish that he would some time paint her portrait. "I can do that with little difficulty," he replied. "Your countenance has some decided characteristics which will make the work easy, comparatively speak- ing." ," Only paint me as I am, with all my hopes and high resolves expressed in my face, and I shall expect that my. portrait in future ages- will find a place in some public hall, arid be cherished there as the image -of one who was a martyr for her sex." Arnold and his wife both laughed, and Margaret joined them. "I Such an event will entirely depend on the success of your cause," said Mr. Arnold. "' Fail' is a word that we do not believe in; and our success is but a question of time," answered Margaret. Margaret Morrison had a, faculty for introducing her favorite topic on all occasions. If strong faith can remove mountains, she may yet put aside all the obstacles. Margaret was a little inclined to be inquis- itive, and asked Mr. Arnold. why he had left Water- ford so suddenly, without saying "Good-by" to his acquaintances. ," I would' prefer that you should ask Kate that question." "But Kate has such an air of mystery about such matters, that I think you can explain them to me more , clearly." Ar ; ' " A SMALT T CLOUTD. 125 "Well, if you must know, I had left upon my easel an unfinished picture that required my attention. You know there is such a thing as a person being struck by a sudden sense of duty." Mr. Arnold and his wife both smiled in a conscious manner. Margaret did not feel quite satisfied with the expla- nation. She concluded that there was something kept from hbr knowledge ; but her further questions were prevented by a rap at the door. A servant brought a letter for Mrs. Arnold: she took -it, and, looking at the direction, wondered who 'could have sent it, as it was in a gentleman's hand- writing, and was post-marked New Orleans. On opening .it, she found it was from Herbert Wil- lard. As she did not mean to receive letters- from gentlemen, and keep her husband ignorant of their contents, she commenced reading it aloud. "NEW ORLEANS, LA. DEAR FRIEND KATE, -Though I am well aware that you are a married woman, we have been too long friends for me to address you in any other manner than the above. You will be surprised to learn that I have strayed so far from home. I know that you will be glad to hear of any good fortune which may attend ,my footsteps; and this is my motive for writing you at this time. I :am temporarily supplying. the pulpit ofta minister who hlas been obliged to leave for a short time on account of ill health. Though this is my first experience in ministerial duties, I consider that I am meeting with pretty good success. I shall probably be page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 KATE CATTLNDER. absent a long- time from those scenes where I have spent so many happy hours, as I intend to finish my theological studies in this vicinity; and I hope that, in due course of time, some field will be opened to me where my services will be acceptable, and where I may distinguish myself in the line of duty I have chosen. Hoping that my welfare may be as dear to you as yours will ever be to me, I remain, "Your sincere friend, " HERBERT WTT ZARD. "P S. - I have written a few lines, as 'A Farewell to New England;' and, knowing that you will appre- ciate - them if they contain any merit, I append them here: - "Adieu, adieu, thou rock-bound shore Where oft with joy I've strayed, Around whose snow-clad mounts of yore My clustering fancies played I Adieu, adieu I I ne'er may greet ; hy foam-dashed earth aain: Far lands receive my wandering feet4 And echo to my strain. Dear clime I where those I ever loved Still dwell, as once I dwelt; - Where in my happiest hours I roved, And in my holiest knelt,- I prize thee far above the land .... Where gorgeous Summer reigns, And strews bright flowers with lavish hand Through all-her wide domains. v -* &a-, A SMA LL CLOUD. 127 I love thee I1--love thy northern star, Thy frozen'fields and rills, Thy leaf-stript forests sounding far, The echoes of thy hills. Methinks I hear thy bells ring out Their merry peal anew; And laughing school-boys' sportive shout. Land that I love, adieu I " Mr. Arnold had a somewhat displeased expression on his countenance while listening to the reading of this letter. Margaret Morrison expressed herself as much pleased at hearing from their old schoolmate; and, re- calling to her mind the interest that he and Kate had formerly manifested for each other, she said inno- cently,-- "Now, Kate, if I had only known you to be mar- riageable, I should have supposed that you would have united your fate with Herbert Willard sooner than with any other person." Mr. Arnold's brow grew blacker at the words; and Margaret's eyes for the first time noticed the anger expressed in his countenance. She thought instantly of those lines of Shakspeare,- "Oh 1- beware, my lord, ofjealousy: It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on." Margaret Morrison perceived a cloud arising in ' Kate's future, " a little larger than a man's hand." - page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] - . 128 KATE CATLENDER. She determined to be more cautious in expressing herself, that no words of hers might serve to mar the brightness of the honeymoon. Kate Arnold had been gazing upon her letter ab- stractedly, and had not noticed any of her husband's black looks. But she made a reply to Margaret's re- mark,- "Herbert Willard and I respect each other suffi- ciently to remain always the best of friends. I never should wish to be his, life-long Juliet, as I was much ,annoyed by his rather too despotic treatment of me while I occupied that position temporarily." Mrs. Arnold was referring to the old scenes where Mr. Willard had taken the part of Romeo, and she that of Juliet. Mr. Arnold had a mind capable of imagining all sorts of evil; for he had had abundant opportunities of observing the worst side of human nature. He believed that Mr. Willard had been an old lover of his wife's ; and lie could ascribe it to nothing but evil intentions that a man should wish to keep up a friendly correspondence with a married woman. Igno- rant of this worldly view of the matter, Mrs. Arnold was somewhat astonished when her husband said, in a voice unlike his usual tone, - "If you act in this matter as a sensible woman ought, you will throw that letter into the fire, and never make any reply." Mrs. Arnold said she did not care for the letter, as she had read'it; but she should prefer to keep the lines. ' , . * A SMATLLT CLOUD.' 129 Frederic Arnold walked out of the room abruptly, shutting the door behind him with a sound. His wife wondered what lihad provoked him. Shrewd Margaret said, "You may be sure he is jealous. The men are all given to that failing." . ' .*9 page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] CHAPTER XVlI1. W O R'L D L Y W I S D O M. EXPERIENCE was teaching the young wife some- thing new every day. The truth'has dawned on her that a husband whom one associates with every day is not so agreeable as he was while a lover; but she regarded this as one of the inevitable consequences of matrimony, and endeavored to reconcile herself as much as possible to this state of things. Then Mr. Arnold manifested some signs of selfish- ness, and, would Often form plans for her own occupa- tion and amusement, without consulting with her beforehand,- He would come in suddenly and say to-her, - "Katy, I have bought tickets, so that we can hear the play of 'Hamlet' tO-night;" 'and Mrs. Arnold would feel in duty bound to accompaiy him, even though she was obliged to give up some engagement that she had formed for herself. Strict economy had been maintained in the manage- ment of Kate Arnold's former home; and, knowing something of the cost of luxuries, she imagined her husband mustihave almost ilexhaustible resources to enable him to keep up their lavish expenditure. "130 WORLDLY WISDOM. 131 Her husband told her very little about the affairs of his profession, and seemed not much interested in it himself. ' She knew that he had a studio, and he had often spoken to her of some rare books that he had there; and one day she asked him to accompany her to his rooms, that she might examine some of those volumes. Though somewhat reluctant at first, hle finally assented. They found the place presenting the appearance of neglect and disuse. Pictures, busts, draperies, and books were crowded into this room, and covered with dust, showing that brushes and brodms had been sparingly used. The windows were so darkened with dirt, that scarcely a ray of light could find its way through. The numerous cobwebs showed that the cunning spider had had plenty of opportunity to weave his web, and draw into it the silly, unsuspecting little fly, without fear of disturbance. Mrs. Arnold selected from the confusion some very elegant books, and wished to liave them taken to their own rooms:: it troubled her much to see so many costly articles in such a state of neglect. In looking round, she espied a picture of her husband, and made inquiries concern- ing it. "That was painted by. my teacher, Mr. Loraine, in Italy,- nearly ten years ago, during the time I was receiving instruction." "But why do you let it remain here to become soiled and defaced? Why not renovate it, and hang it' in our rooms?" "If yoa must know, Mr. Loraine did not flatter me page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 32 KATE CAT-JTwNDER. much with regard to that picture. He said that he disliked to paint such a mouth and chin as I had." "I like it because it was taken so long ago, and has such a youthlful expression : besides, it has not so much of that beard about your face:that I notice in the later ones," said: the wife. ,t But you would not care to hang it in our room, and have some physiognomist tell you that your hus- band's countenance indicated cruelty and instability, I thinl." ; Mrs. Arnold was no physiognomist, and observed nothing objectionable about the portrait, and insisted upon taking it home. It ;hung upon her wall but a l , oshort time however. Kate Arnold concluded that Mr. Manning, from what her husband said, must be very wealthy, and genierously disposed towards- his nephew. She often wondered why he never visited them; and her husband informed her that he was rather eccentric, and did not stir about much. "Mr, anning, was very much displeased when he heard of his nephew's marriage. He had warned him, over and over again, never to take a step so likely to entail misery on others: He remembered the life of wretchedness his own sister had endured with Arnold's father, and how she had died of a broken heart at last, before she had reached her twenty-fifth year. He had hated the'father; and to see the son manifest a disposition, to follow his vices aroused in his heart all the old enmity and bitterness. He was willing to assist and encourage his nephew pAnd;1 - I , ' I ' I% , I. WORLDLY WISDOM. 133 every way in his power, when he chose to conduct himself properly; but he had no patience to bear with Iris idleness and dissipation. During his engagement to Kafe Callender, Frederic Arnold had applied himself to work more diligently than ever before, and seemed in a fair way of gaining fame in his profession. For this industry he was doubly rewarded; as his uncle, who ever kept a watch- ful eye over him,. willingly assisted him with large sums of money. It was this good fortune that enabled him to com- mence his married life with such an appearance of wealth. But alas for the weakness of his moral nature! he was gradually relapsing into idleness and into his old habits. Mrs. Arnold enjoyed city-life much; and it opened to her miilnd new fountains of joy and knowledge. Slie formed many acquaintances and friends; but, among them all, none were dearer to her thail the friend and schoolmate of her earlier years, Margaret Morrison,. Happily for Kate Arnold, she had -a disposition capable of appreciating every thing lovely and pleas- urable in life; and out of her sorrows even, she would manage to extract some ray of hope. She was social and lively; and, possessing rare con- versational powers, she .soon drew around her the society of the young, the gay, and the cultivated. / ^ ' page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] - * a OHAPTER X IX. THE MNISTER PLOTTING. TITME rolled on, and 'Herbert Willard had rttained J at last the long-looked-for and much-wished-for success in his profession, - that of the Unitarian min- istry. He had been installed pastor of a flourishing flock in a Southern city. He was considered an eloquent preacher, and received for his labors a rich reward. Naturally endowed with a talent for dra- matic representation, he had taken considerable pains in early youth to cultivate it thoroughly. Though we may consider the profession of an actor as, some- what loWer in the moral scale than that of a minister of the gospel, still, we cannot but acknowledge that the expounder of religion must' have much of the actor's tact, in order to gain popularity. He must have power of voice, grace of manner, and a capacity for touching pathetically the hearts and imaginations of his hearers. As an example of this, we have among Us many popular preachers who made their Ifirst: appearance before a public audience by the foot- lights. *I should not like to be understood as intend- /ing to cast aspersions against tihe Christian ministry. If there has been any thing inapproriate and unequal Jp r 1 4 THE MNISTER PLOTTING. 135 in the comparison I have made, I have purposed by it rather to elevate the calling of the actor than to lower that of the ecclesiastic. Happily, the -ban which formerly attached to the vocation of an actor is passing away. He was obliged once to strive against prejudices which deprived him of his place in society, and dishonored his profession; but now he takes his proper position among artists of corresponding' abilities. But I am diverging from my subject. I wish merely to state' that the Rev. Herbert Willard found favor in the minds of his people; and he owed this good fortune more to his eloquent tongue and power- ful imagination than to any " grace " he had received from the Lord. Although Mr. Willard has realized his most san- guine expectations, as far as success in his chosen profession is conlcerned, still, we do not find him at ' this time in his usual self-satisfied mood. He' had not yet obtained a wife, - that is of such essential impor- ' tance to a minister's, as well as other men's happiness. For the very reason that he was successful and pros- perous, he wished for some person to share with him that success and prosperity. There were among his flock any number of "young lambs " who would have been willing and glad to cheer his loneliness; but he had no tender regards for them. His love for Matty Davidson had proved-true and unchlangeablei but dark clouds had lowered, that had caused doubts and fears to arise in his mind. He page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 86- , . .KATE CALLENDEDR. was too - far .away from Matty for her to feel the in- fluenee of his presence. She was under parental authority, and that authority was working strongly against his interest. ZHe, had been out to see Matty at her home, and -had met with a very unfavorable reception from her lHe ^ had walked into the house withlthe -assured manner of a person who considers that he has a right M Mr. Davidson looked upon this conduct as bold assumption and insolence; and, with words more for- cible than eloquent, requested Mr. Willard to take his departure, and never darken his doors again, I vain Matty pleaded with e father, with tearful eyes, that he would think more favorably of Her- bert: it only served to augment parental obsti- 'nacy . * . Angry words passed between Mr. Davidson and his daughter's lover, which added fuel to the flame. and increased the mutual altipathy. v Mr. Davidson had the advantage of the position, being in his own house ; and Herbert was obliged to retreat in a hasty manner. But he was not a person likely to be balked in his intentions by opposition; and. he wrote a long letter to Matty, telling her of his d etenrmiation to adhere to his plighted vows, unless she chose to annul the engagement. ' - e awaited the result for, some time, in a state of suspense, and had just received-Matty's answer. Itran thUS'- ' THE MNISTER PLOTTING. 137 "MY DEAREST LOVE, - YOU would- have received an answer to your letter long before this, but I am so closely watched I have no opportunity for writing. Father has forbidden me to write to you, or receive any letters, from you; and he keeps a very vigilant eye upon me, to see that nothing of the kind takes place. Aunt thinks just as he does about it, and watches me closely also. I don't think your letter ever would have reached me, but Hhappened to be the only one at home to receive the mail when it arrived. You don't know how sad it makes me feel to think I have no mother. If she was only living, I do not think she would oppose my wishes, or. cause me so. much unhappiness as father and aunt are inclined- to do. Fanny Fletcher was a great comfort to me while here; but she has gone home now, and I have no per- son that I can make a confidant of my sorrows. But I have still another trouble. Father seems deter- mined that I shall marry Mr. Farringtoll, one of our neighbors. He and his widowed mother own a very valuable plantation together; and father says, if I marry him, I can always be sure of being in- comfort- able circumstances. He says that half the ministers have to drag through the world on starvation sala- ries. "Mr. Farrington torments me almost to .death. He comes here every evening, and- sometimes during the day. "He sits and stares me in the face with his great eyes, without saying much. I try sometimes to read or sew while he is here; but he makes me feel so un- q -. ) '. ;* ' ' . , *. page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] 138 - KATE CALLTENDER.- - comfortable, that I cannot accomplish any thing. He -commenced coming before Fanny went home, and I concluded that his visits might be on her account. '"Oh, how I wish she was here now to be tor- mented by him!- "You wished to know if I intended to obey my fa- ther, and break off our engagement." You may be sure that I will not do so. I will tell you here, as I have told you a thousand times before, that I never have loved and never can love any person but you. They may imprison me, and keep me on bread and water, -ifthey like; but I will not consent to renounce you! . "I long to hear from you; but you willy have to be careful what you write, for the letter may fall into other hands than mine. "Fanny has written to me that Kate Callender is married. Her marriage astonished me somewhat; but I was still more surprised that she had married Fred- eric Arnold. - " Of all us girls, she seemed the least' inclined for matrimony; and yet she has entered into that happy state before any of us! I don't understand it at all. W- hile we were nearly wild over Mr. Arnold's good looks and fine manners, Kate appeared to take no in- - terest in him whatever. Then, his attentions'seemed so- inrdiscriminate, I did not suppose any one of the girls could flatter themselves that they had secured him for a lover. How fortunate they must be if they have met with-no parental obstacles in their pathway! ' If you know any thing concerning this affair, or 'THE MNISTER PLO'Tl'NG. 18 of Kate's whereabouts, please inform me; for I woul! like to write to her. . "I hardly know how to advise with regard to an swering this letter; for I know there is a chance of its meeting father's eye. If it should, and if he shol( grow very angry over the subject, it miglt bring- 01 apoplexy. I am sometimes afraid he will have some thing of the kintd, he is so stout. "I leave it to your own good judgment to decide ir what manner to write; and, hoping you may feel th( same confidence in me that I have in you, I remain, "Your dear, loving U MATTY.': Mr. Willard was in a dilemma as to answering this I epistle. He certainly Would liave to be somewhat cir- cumspect in the use of expressiols, if his answer- was likely to meet the parental eye. He did not care to make any declarations of tenderness and love, to- be received with scoffs; neithler did he wish to excite her father's anger by counselling her to disobedience. Not that he had any fears of " apoplexy." Oh, no!. not the least I If Mr. Davidson chose to step out of the world in such a quiet, foolish manner as that, it was no concern of his. He finally concluded to write to Matty in' a sort of busil!ess-style, knowing very well that she would umnderstand his reasons for doing thus. He made no reference to her letter, but commenced in the following manner:- !' DEAR MATTY, -I am very happy to state, that, *' * " ' - -'. page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] - ' t ' ' ' J-* . ' . ^ . ^ "O ' K-EATE -CA TTENDER. since my agreeable visit to your father's house, my prospects have somewhat improved. I am no longer the poor theological student, but am settled as pastor over a. flourishing society, and receive for my services twothlousand dollars pe'r year. This is not bad for a beginning, and for a young man. - There are plenty of rich men's daughters belonging to my society, that would not object, but -would con- sider it an- honor, to link their fates withl mine; but I amnot lovingly disposed towards them as yet. I had the honor of being present at Kate Callen- der's wedding. Mr. and Mrs. Thorning, our old school- teachers, were there also. I never looked upon a love- lier bride. She was dressed richly and in good taste, and wore many jewels. I think Kate Callender was made to be adorned. "I consider that she has made a fortunate marriage. Mr;. Arnold will be likely to elevate her to a higher sphere,-one more befitting her nature and talent than her former position. Their home is to be in New York. ' .- "I don't-think-the young couple met with any 'pa- rental obstacle.' - "Mr and Mrs. Callender were wise people, and in- terested'in their daughter's welfare. They probably took into consideration the .fact that the women in their part of the country far outnumbered the men, -I and that, it would not be good policy to doom their daughter to an ' old maids9' life by quarrelling with herlover. :^ "I consider it my duty, as a minister of the gos- THE MNISTER PLOTTING. 'i 14: pel, to practise forgiveness; and in this note I tende: my kind ,regards to every member of your family. remain ever your friend. I HERBERT WITLARD' This was 'rather a cool letter for a lover to write t his lady-love; buit Herbert knew that Matty woul( understand his motives for writing in such a tone. Ii it should chance to fall into her father's hands instea( of her own, as'seemed probable, he. would have n( scruples, after reading it, to pass it over to hil daughter. The father would probably regard it as i proof of the lover's indifference towards Matty, anC would be very glad to give her an opportunity of real izing the fact herself. Then he- had inserted a fez hints which he wished might meet the fatherly eye ir an indirect manner. They would probably have f better effect in that way, than if he expressed himself directly to him. After Herbert had fiinislied and sealed this letter, h( began to examine the sittation. It certainly did noi appear to him at all encouraging. It looked as thougl communication was nearly cut off between himself and Matty. The distance between them was so great he could cherish no -hope of seeing- or speaking witt her. Then-it was doubtful whether many or any of his letters would ever reach her. He knew Matty'i yielding, good-natured disposition, and had some fears asshe was away from the influence of his own pres ence, that she might consent at last to her father' *ishes. He did not consider that those people wh( I ; .. ' X page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] "2- ' RKATE OATTEjNDER. manifest so little self-will in most matters are often very determined when in love. Then, to complete the gloom and dreariness of his picture, came the spectre of that young man who had the pleasure of enjoying, every evening, the presence of his dear Matty. She had said little concerning him, but had inti- mated that he had large eyes, and looked at her a great deal. No wonder at that, Herbert thought: he was probably gazing upon- her in speechless admi- ration. This view of the subject caused the matter to, appear still more aggravating to his mind. He was not willing that any one should enjoy that agree- able pastime but himself. Mr. Willard was sincerely in love; and he had not patience enough to bear this gloomy state of affairs. He was self-willed and energetic, and at last thought of an expedient. . Tlee plan he formed for promoting his happiness, if carried out, might not be in strict accordance with his -haracter as a Christian minister ; but, in this case, he could think of no other alternative.. He- no sooner lhad his purpose well fixed in his mind, than he determined to carry it out in spite of all .obstacles; and, in due course of time, it was accomplshed. "TAPTER XX. AN OVERCAST SKY. T ,iME passed on, bearing in its course the usual -- current of human events. Each hour came laden with its joys, sorrows, and mysteries; bringing to some favored ones prosperity and gladness, and to others a burden of woe. Mrs. Arnold is the bride of nearly three years, and is hardly yet one and twenty. She is a stately, hand- some woman, and has an expression stamped upon her- countenance of quiet-determination and self-reliance. Her husband, in whom she expected to find a strong staff for her support and dependence, has proved to be but a broken reed. Her dream of love is over. Love has gone; respect has gone: and it is from -a sense of duty and moral obligation only that she now clings to that- being whom she vowed to love and cher- ish. Ah!' what; has produced the change? Selfishness and vice! These characteristics were rooted so firmly and deeply in Frederic Arnold's nature, that no moth- er's love nor wife's devotion could-ever eradicate them. He was that-combination so often seen, of talent and depravity. Selfish and profligate, he combined that "8 lb i. ^ page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] "4 KATE CALLTEWNDER. mixture of strong passions with pleasing manners and a fine appearance. The knowledge of the true character of her husband came slowly and surely to Mrs. Arnold's mind. Had -the whole truth forced itself suddenly upon her, it might have broken her trusting heart. Three months had hardly passed, when his manner commenced to change towards his bride. His lavish expenditure had reduced his pecuniary means, and caused a fret- fulless of . temper. Never, for any length of time throughout his whole life, had he manifested industry or stability sufficient to insure the gratification of his own extravagant wants. Had he chosen to attend to the duties of his profession diligently, he could have realized an income sufficient to procure for himself and his wife comforts and luxuries; but it was not in the nature of the man to do this. He would some- times, whei in a complaining mood, say that he had no idea that a wife would be such an expensive burden to him. - This- tone of reproach would sometimes arouse Mrs. Arnold's pride and indignation: it opened to her a- new experience. ^ ^ Thoughl her chllildhood's home had been plain and simple, it was filled with love and comfort, and she had never seen any manifestations of a grudging spirit displayed there. Though she: enjoyed luxury, she was willing to give it all up when she' found it could not be maintained, and proposed moving from their expensive home to a cheaper locality. Mr. Arnold objected at first; but -che reality,. AN OVERCAST SKY. 145 was obliged at last to make the change, wlhich he- did, with many-grumblings. They tried housekeeping for a while; but Mrs. Ar- nold: was unused to drudgery, and ignorant of those little ways and means by which good managers learn to get along with a small expense: and she soon found out that it would be the wisest economy for them to continue boarding. Strength is often found in adversity, and courage in despair; and the young wife's troubles served to de- velop her character. A weak, faint heart would have broken down with the weight of sorrows that accumu- lated around her; but hers was naturally strong and brave, and she bore her woes with astonishing magna- ninmity. She found she must resort to ler pen as a means of subsistence; and she resumed her literary labors with such a zeal and -determination as she had never felt before. ' The change in her husband continued for the worse. He was nlo longer the lover, but the severe, selfish, ex- acting qhusband: his looks and tones were altered, alld words of endearment flowed no longer from his lips. Because he. had not the means for lavish expendi- ture and careless profusion, he became morose, and 'sought forgetfulness by plunging into dissipation. Mrs. Arnold tried to reasoln with -er husband, and influence him to pursue a different course of life; and sometimes he would seem repentant, become industri- ous for a whle, and make promises of -amendment: -but 10 page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] "6. KATE CALLENDER. these would not be fulfilled, and' he would return to his old dissolute life. But the dark cloud had a little of the silver lining. Kate Arnold as-a wife met with more success in her literary productions than the school-girl, Kate Callen- der, ever had known. Experience had always been the inspiration of her pen; and her married life had given her opportunity for thorougll schooling. As a school-girl, she had written little sketches of the inci- dents that happened in her every-day life, as shown by thoughts on house-keeping and school-teaching. While a-maiden in love, she had learned to portray tle joys and sorrows of the heart. But her unfortu- nate experience in matrimony had taught her a sterner lesson, "that the human heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." She de- scribed with remarkable truth and accuracy the hope- less wretchlledlless of domestic misery, and delineated in startling colors the workings of vice and the fiercer passions of man. Over all this she would often throw a gleam of light and hope, fresAi from her naturally cheerful and sunny, heart. This occupation served her a double purpose: it prevented her from brooding over her misfortunes, and furnished her with the means of supplying her daily wants, It enabled her, also, to turn a deaf ear to-the sometimes angry mutterings of her husband. He would often come in and commence fault-finding and complaining. If she appeared indifferent, and made; no answer to llis remarks, he would fly into a rage; an. sometimes almost the first notice she would , ANX OVERCAST SKY. 147 have of his presence would be the crashing of a chair, or slamming of a door behind him. Like a sensible, fearless womanl, she reasoned with her misfortune. If her husband was absent, she would try to ignore him, and forget that she was bound to sulch depravity : if present, and inclined to be disrespectful and abusive towards her, as bhe often was, she would endeavor to become deaf and blind to his presence. In -this. way she was morally divorcing and separat- ing herself from the being with whom she had united her fate. Throuighout all these troubles, Margaret Morrison remained a true and sympathizing friend. In her investigations of the subject of 'C woman's rights," she had managed to upheave a -great many wcmanns wrongs; and she believed that most of the oppressionl and sorrow .that women were obliged to endure ill domestic as well as other matters' were caused by their hlaving no .political power. She un- derstood the true character of Mr. Arnold almost as well as his wife did, and he hated her for that very reason.. He hinted to her more than once that he did not wish -her to enter his doors; but -she had contended against opposition too long to be affected by anyjill opinion of his, and persisted in visiting her friend, notwithstanding his disapprobation. There was no prospect of reformation in Frederic Arnold: on the contrary, his idleness and dissipation increased. He spent a great deal of time at .the gaming-table; and sometimes, when he; managed to keep the wine from his brain, he was a successful v - page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] "8 . KATE CALLENDER. gambler. Oh, how his wife despised these wages of sin! And she toiled on, determined that nothing but food honestly earned should pass her Own lips. Mr. Manning had, as .usual, kept a watcllful eye on his nephew's proceedings, and had finally cast him off and. disinherited him for his bad conduct. - Arnold had but little expectation to look forward to from that quarter now; and this disappointment increased his ill-nature. Mrs. Arnold's unceasing exertions began to injure her health. One morning she arose sick, feverish, and weak, and was compelled to recline all day upon the lounge. She wished muchl that herfriend Marga- ret might come in; but she did not-come. After a while, her husband came home; but he brought withl him no comfort or consolation. He no sooner noticed her weak condition, than lie said fretfully. "If you would but get up, a'nd set yourself about a woman'sbusiness, you would be well enough!" Kate Arnold was weak and nervous; and she burst into tears at the heartless words. All the pent-up emotions with which her heart was filled broke but at last, and she wept bitterly.' ' "I have been thinkingi, for some time, that infernal scribbling would drive you mad; and now I perceive it has," he said. It was some time before the poor wife could gather strength to speak; and then she asked him if he would sen d for Margaret' Morrison to come in and stay with her a while. "No!" was the gruff answer. "I never , . . AN' OVERCAST SKY. 149 will have -that old vixen in the house, when I can- help it." Mrs. Arnold tossed about in her bed all that night, with burning fever raging in her veins. She had hardly ever known what sickness was; and this feeling was something new to her. She would ask her husband for nothing: he appeared so ill-natured, and showed no inclination for making her more comfort- able. Her sufferings were intense; and she prayed to God that she might not die there, without friendly care. How she longed for her home, and the presence of those loved ones who had never spoken to hler an unkind word! She prayed that strength miglt be- given her to reach that home; and she determined that she never again would place herself at the mercy of her selfish husband. Her prayer was answered. She was able to make' a little preparation the next morning, aind started for her home. Her mind seemed 'to be in a bewildered state. The journey was a long one, and there were many changes to be made: she went through these in a mechanical sort of manner, without hardly realizing what she was doing. She arrived at last at her fa- ther's house, and her mother came out joyfully to meet her. Alas there was a' look of deerp sadness and suffering. upon her daughter's pale face she had never noticed before. The journey had wearied her, and exhausted what little energy she had left when she started. She was only able to speak a few words: "O mother! I'm sick?- Give me a place to rest." They carried her into the house, and placed her in a ' ^.. page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 150 - KATE CATLENDER. comfortable bed; but she soon became unconscious -- of their tender care anld watchfulness. She had a r brain-fever and became delirious. She would constantly rave about going home, and would keep repeating that she wanted a quiet place to die in. For a ltng time her life was despaired of. Loving friends would gather round her bedside, and' bemoan with one allother that this lovely, talented, young thing should pass away froom earth. Her hus- band came, and wrung his llands:and wept by her side: he had conscience enough left, perhaps, to feel penitence for the wrong He had. done her. She would open her large brown eyes, and gaze on him with a look of consciousness for a moment, and thenl immediately commence her delirious ravings. Mar- garet Morrison left her great unfinished work, and came to watch over and nlurse her fiienid: she loved her like a sister, and hardly left her bedside. Every thing was done for her that parental and friendly care could devise, and she began to show some slight symp- toms of amendment. Mr. Callender was an affectionate, tender-hearted ' man; and le could not endure to be near his daughter during her frantic ravings. He would sit in a remote part of the house, as far as possible from the place - where she lay; anld there in Ihisi loneliness hle would brood over this great- grief that had come to him. , He would recall every little event of hs darling's ch aildhood,-how when a gaywild thing, she would cross and recross the fields with: him while ploughing with the oxen: sometimes, in: a spirit of mischief, she AN OVERCAST SKY. 15 would snatch the whip from his hands, and flourish it over the animals' heads; and they would obey her bidding as well as his own. He remembered her, too, as she rode upon the hay-load with her head uncov- ered and her hair blown about by the winds, un- mindful of her complexion. Sometimes she would have a fall from the load; but she always landed "right side up,' and she had no fears of venturing again. Then hle thought of the hopeful, happy spirit she manifested when lie took her to the boarditig-school; and hdw she had dazzled them by her sharp wit upon her return. Then came memories of her engagement and marriage. She had gone from her sheltering home a handsome bride, with a look of trust and hap- piness upon her countenance. He had known little of her married life: Kate Arnold lhad made no com- ' plaint. It would have taken nothitlg from her burden ' d of wretchedness for her parents to know of her situa- tion; and she told them none of her troubles. After recalling this pleasant'picture of the--past, Mr. Callender would dwell upon the present: of his pride and joy now stretched upon a bed of sickness, some- times helod down there by strong hands. He thought of those brown eyes that had often gazed" upon him pleasantly or roguishy, now glaring about with the wildness of insanity, and recognizing n o one, He could not bear calmly this fearful contrast; and he would bury his face in his hands, and weep like a child. - page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 152' K ATE CATXTRNDER. But XKate Arnold's time to die had not yet come. After a while she ceased lher ravings, and relapsed into a state of stupor and Semi-consciousness. She soon began to recognize her friends; and one day, while Margaret was busy about her bed, she "spoke to her in a low voice. Margaret leaned towards her to catch the sounds (as Iler voice was very faint 'X and weak), as she said,- "I wish you would tell Frederic to leave me. You will understand why. I doubt whether I shall ever live under the same roof with him again." Margaret had longed to tell him this very-thing. She believed him to be a hypocritical villain, and hated him. -She and his ill-used wife were the only persoils in the vicinity that-, understood Frederic Arnold's real character. Sihe told him immediately what Kate had said, and made his departure rather more peremptory, by add- ing a few remarks expressive of. her own opinion. After some little demur on his own part, Frederic Arnold went away. . Mrs. Arnold's recovery was very slow. Few people would have recognized the blooming bride and happy school-girl in this- thin form, that was daily propped- up with pillows. - The glossy hair had been cut close to her -head; her face was pale and thin, and her large eyes had but little of their former lustre, She had never realized the number and kindness of her friends -till now. Comforts and luxuries were showered upon her from all sides. Margaret Mor-- AN OVERCAST SKY. 153 rison remained with her, nursing her faithfully, and relieving Mr. Callender's family from too much anxious watching over her. Dr. Morrison was her kind physician. He would often go home and tell Ills wife that their daughter Margaret was at last showing symptoms of returning reason, by spending her- time profitably and usefully by the bedside of her friend. - * ' . ' page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] ' APTE' X X I. THE MNISTER'S ELOPEMENT., A ATlER this lapse of time, we return to the affairs of the Rev. Herbert Willard. We find himin a much happier state of mnd :and circumstances than when we left him. Hie has secured that important requisite to a minister's happiness, - a loving wife. In her we recognize our old friend Matty, rosy and happy still, Mr. Willard's -parishioners still value his services higlly; and love and respect his wife also. They conlsider that their minister has shown excellent judgment in, marrying a person possessed of so many agreeable qualities. How he managed that important affair they never have known, , Should they happen to find out the particulars, we do not know, but only conjecture, whether he wouldbe lowered in their estimation or not. 'Mr. Willard had notified his people that he should be absent for a short time from his pulpit, and engaged a young theological, student to fill his place. ' :In about three weeks after his departure, he re- turned with his blusing, happy bride. Nobody. 154 THE MNISTER'S ELOPEMENT. 155 thought of asking questions concerning her, or-of doubting his right of possession. They supposed their minister had a- right to marry, as well as any other man, if lie chose. How he contrived to secure Matty Davidson for his wife, in spite of parental bpposition, I know, and I will tell. Thougll his plan might seem rash, he formed it in a cool, business-like way. He went once more like a man, and asked Mr. Davidson for his daughter, and was treated more insolently than ever by the father, He felt too sure of a victory to have many words with him, and departed from the house. Matty -was not kept under lock and key, and he-managed to get an opportunity to speak with her, and told her the plan he had formed' for their mutual- happiness. She was a girl of spirit. She had been annoyed a great deal of late by Mr. Farrington-; and she was soon per- suaded to consent to the arrangement of her lover. In one short hour she was whirled away from- the protection of ler father, from the staring admiration of the rich planter who was expecting to marry her, and made the. happy wife of Herbert Willard. Mr. David- son' was in a terrible rage when he discovered his daughter's disappearance. He ordered every horse in his stable to be harnessed ups and started in pur- suit of the runaway couple. He had not gone a great way before he learned of their marriage. Though very much enraged, he had some little sense left; and he knew that it was useless to follows them farther. *-His daughter was of a suitable age to select a husband for herself, whether it pleased him or not. 4 , page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 KATE"-CALLENDER . - He;was avanquished -foe: the enemy had possession ; and, considerbig -"discretion to be the .better part of valor," he turned his horses' heads in the direction of his- own -:home. atty, knowing her father's excitable temperament, was fearful lest some sad result might follow her sud- denll departure. " r That happened- which she had often surmised might. He died: of apoplexy; but it was not till many long years after her marriage: so she experienced no con- scientious pangs on that account. Mrs. Willard never regretted her hasty marriage. She loved her husband too fondly to be coglizant of his faults. He was rather arbitrary and self-willed, but, she preferred that he should have Ilis own way. She thought lie knew almost every thing that was worth knowing, and in that respect they both enter- tailned the same opinion. She proved herself to be of invaluable worth to her husband and/his society. She had a little class in the sab6ath school; was always willing to start and push forward charitable objects, and attended regularly, ,i,' wh!en able, all the society-meetings. In ieturn for this devotion and good will, she received many valuable testimonials in the form of elegant gifts from/ members of' her husband's church. But Mr. -Willard, with 1all his worldly prosperity, was getting 'somewhat uneasy. He wished to "pro- gress," and did not care,to adhere strictly toh the pril- ciples held by- his sect; and, having such a good opilioli of his own: powers, he believed that he could originate ,'. I- ' THE MNISTER'S ELOPEM'RNT. 157 I something that would be an improvement upon the old doctrine. His hearers- would. sometimes be mystified by these new ideas; but the majority of his society en- joyed them from the very fact that they were -beyond their comprehension. As long as* he expressed. him- self with beautiful imagery, and in. glowing, eloquent language, they were willing to attribute the incompre- hensible nature of his discourse to-his superior talent. Mr. Willard departed from his theology merely be- cause he wished to be original; not because he had obtained any new ideas. If his ideas had come first, he would have made his purpose much clearer to Lis own mind and the minds of his hearers. But " new times demand new meas- ures and new mBn ;, and Mr., Willard, in spite of his eccrntricities, found favor with a large portion of the, community, A temptation came to him one day. He received a call to become pastor over a flourishing flock in Brook- lyn, N Y. ; and lhe could not find it in his heart to re- fuse the offer-. The field was larger; in other words, the harvest was more abundant, and there was a richer crop of sinners to be gathered into the fold. He sent his resignation into his society; but the majority dis- liked to part with him, and did not wish to grant it: but there were still a few among them who liked the old style of preaching best; and his resignation was finally accepted. Mr. Willard carried the unwelcome news to his wife, but just j asked her a question: - ' How should you like to change our place of resi- ' '-, ' S page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] - 158 KATE O ATTLENDER. dence for another, where, perhaps, it may be more for our interest to reside?" "In what manner do you mean?" 'Mrs.' Willard asked in some surprise. "I mean, dear Matty, that I have been offered a larger salary to take charge of a society in Brooklyn; and I don't think we .ought to overlook our own wel- fare by refusing such an offer." Mrs. Willard was not quite so worldly-minded, as far as the increase of salary was concerned, and an- swered, "But you know we; have been very happy here; and that is of more consequence to us than wealth." Mr. Willard spoke of another advantage. "Clergy- men," he said, "in that vicinity, were advancing rather faster thari' in other places. He would be likely to meet with more people that would adopt and sympathize with his own peculiar views." , Mrs- Willard could not argue against this seeming advantage, as the subject was rather beyond her com- prehension. She took it for granted that it must be all right if it met lher husband's approval. She disliked much to break the pleasant ties and, associations of her daily life; but she had a good fac- ulty for resigning herself to changes and inconve- niences, and commenced cheerfully to make prepara- tions for:their departure. Mrs. Willard had not heard from her father directly ' for a long time. He,liad written one letter to her, filled with indignation, soon after her marriage; and in it he had -told her that he hoped her minister would ' ' ; *' *. THE MNISTER'S ELOPEMENT. 159 be able to take care of her, as she never should have any assistance from him. She would like to have had a pleasanter feeling existing between them; but she ' loved her husband perfectly, and this trouble fell lightly Upon her. To do him justice, we will say that Mr. Willard's society regretted much to part with him for, with all his peculiarities and egotism, he had developed some very popular characteristics. No less sad was the parting with his sweetldisposi- 1 tioned wife; for she had proved herself to be an inval- uable assistant, not only to her husband, but to his society. And she disliked much to leave her many friends and happy home,--the only home of her own she had ever known, and where-she had passed the pleasantest portion of her life; but the call of the wealthy, sub- stantial society of- Brooklyn was a loud one, and they departed, bearing with them many tokens of friend- shipand esteem. ' , page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] *, o . CFHAP'TER XXTT. REC,ONCILIATION MRS. ARNOLD still remains at her father's house; and we find her now with the old sparkle in her eye, and signs of health-visible in her countenance. 'By slow degrees she had recovered, had realized the unwearying tenderness, the thoughtful care, of all her -family and friends, and had-learned, as she had never known: before, what a wealth of love she possessed. But we find her in a compassionate,/forgiving mood. -Marriage has brought her one joy, at least. A blessing had been grailted her, and her babe sleeps ill' his cradle by her side. One glance at that sweet, inno- cent face has caused her to forgive and forget all the misery she has endured. Mr. Arnold has written to her often, and entreated her to share his home with him once more. He has filled his letters with promises of ameldment, and, all sorts of tender endearments. Her heart is too full of -bliss for'any other feeling. She has nearly forgotten her resentment andits cause, -and has written to her husband that he may come and take her away. 'Twas -those blue baby-eyes that taught the young mother :her lesson of forgiveness. -160 RECONCTTLATTON, - 161 She has been reflecting, with some anxiety, whether there might not be little buds of selfislmness enshrined within that darling form, which might some time ger- minate into angry passions; and, in such a case, would she feel justified in casting him off from her? These reflections determined her to make'another effort to reform and save the father. . Mr. Arnold, loved his wife as well as he was, capable of loving anybody;.and to win her back again was shf- ficient inducement for him to employ himself indus- tripusly for a while. He had hired and furnished some rooms in the outskirts of the city, and they were to commence housekeeping there. Mrs. Callender had surmised, from her:daughter's seeming indifference towards her husband, that there had been trouble of some sort between them. She never thought of placing the responsibility upon a per- son so pleasant and agreeable as Mr. Arnold seemed to be; and she somehow conjectured that the difficulty might hlave been caused by Kate's ignorance of domes- tic duties, or to her ambition for literary honors. Hannah Callender was very domestic, and an excel- lent housekeeper; and it was arranged that she should accompany her sister home, and assist in the house- hold duties. This plan suited Mrs. Arnold much ;-for she knew very well that her little, one would require 'a great deal of attention, and she would be unable to manage without assistance. Mr. Arnold soon came, all smiles and blandisl- ments. He seemed pleased with everybody,-his *"'^ \ page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] - - t62 KAE OAJLEINDER' wife, clild, and:all the family. His wife received him -kildly and: cordially, After her return to the city, M-rs. iArnold foulldtthings somewhat improved from the 'old system. She enjoyed the society of her sister much; they lad some neat, tidy rooms, and HEannal :conducted every thing like clock-work. She soon ascertained, however, that their income was not suffi- cient to meet expenses, and resltmed her old duties with the pen. Her husband, as usual, was-uncommu- nicative 'about his business; but she used to tell him often -that, she cared not how he spent his time, if itwas only at some' honest, respectable employ- -ment, Margaret Morrison was astonished when she learuned tlthather friend had returned to her llusballd's home. She b could not imagine why she could tolerate again ' -such' a:wretclr as she kiiew Mr. Arnold to be; having herself -witnessed some of the worst phases of his J chlaracter, she never could entertain a good opinion concerning hiim. She -concluded that it must be the 'i; mysterious something "Kate Arnold had mentioned :to her :as having influenced her to marry; and it'had -i ; probably:induced her to return to. her husband again -aftra llhis abtse. : Margaet was inclined to congratulate herself that :: shneverhad experielced, any: thing of that ": mys- -: tery,': She rather preferred to be: "'strong-minded," - ani:bear/iali ('the: sarcasms and: invectives - that- were t so, mes nhulledagainst iler sect, than be caught il ' -:':suche^^iet.- me -t s -a . ., . f e th o - : - - Butt^:s3 e ldeteni-ned to stad by her frienid through I'- t - :ECOOeTTTATION. ' 163 good and bad fortune; and continued to visit her, in spite of the ill feeling that bhd existed between herself and Mr. Arnold. Kate Arnold was a very careless writer; and she was5obliged to endure some rather sharp criticism 1 on that account. She was showing Margaret Morrison' a scorching criticism concerning one of her productions, and made the remark,- ( I don't know 'how I should be able to endure so much of this, if it was not for one consolation that I have. "If my articles are well criticised, they must be well read; and that, of course, insures to me a pecuniary benefit. . -. I don't wonder they say my productions lack ' har- mony,' and clearness; ' for Illave no patience to revise them as I ought.. My ideas come to my mind-fast, and: to express them is a pleasure; but, when it comes to conforming them to the -rfles of rhetoric, I find it a- somewhat uninteresting and irksome task." ' You Should adopt my system in that respect," answered Margaret. "'I write occasionally, myself, for publication; that is, when I seei a igood opportu- nity for benefiting amy cause: and, feeling the same repugnance that you- have expressed towards :co;rect- , ing manuscript, I have secured thh services of a friend who revises and corrects mny- articles. The expense of this is a, trifle in comparison to the benefit-I derive- from the assistance." -, cI wiish- I mignt hayv e :the good fortune to procure wish, h n to p -ur page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] 164 H - ATE, UATTjFTXNDER. just:such aid as you have mentioned," answered Mrs. Arnold. , . - ,In "-I have no doubt but that this gentleman would beo as willing to perform the service for you as for me. Hte has great literary culture and correct taste, and is himself manager of a periodical work. He is an author, and is likewise familiar with every step which an article ha s to pass through from the time it issues from the writer's brain till it is sent forth to the pub- lic. You have heard me mention his name' often,- Mr. Richards, - as the gentleman who is inclined to regard favorably the cause of woman's suffrage." - Mrs. Arnold recollected the name; and she made an- arrang ement forthwith for seeing him, and con- sulting with him in regard to her own affairs. Arthlur Richards had commenced, in early life, his business-career in a publishing-house. 'He had been thoroughly educated in the rudiments of the business , long before he aspired to become an author, and had thusjlearned bo perform easily those labors of correc- tion which by many authors are considered as disagree- able drudgery. - -:! :-When he had listened to the proposal of Margaret; Morrison for her friend, a pleasant, good-natured smile spread over his face as he saia, -- "It would be taking upon myself something of a responsibility to promise to prepare articles for publi- :cation,:when Ham entirely ignorant of the manner in which they mayvbe presented. I have performed the -'duty;for you, Miss Morrison, because you do not re- quiire my services often; and I know very well, also, RECONOTLT ATTON. 165 that you are incapably of afflicting me with a very long dissertation." Margaret and Mrs. Arnold both smiled as he ex- pressed this'somewhat doubtful compliment. "H mean to intimate," he said by way of apology, "that when Miss Morrison undertakes to express an opinion concerning her favorite subject, shq does it concisely and to the purpose, and is contented to stop when she has finished; which is more than I can say of many other dogmatists." After some little conversation, it was finally ar- ranged that Mrs. Arnold should send in her manu- script; and he would ascertain in that manner whether or not he could render her any assistance. Mr. Richards possessed a rare critical taste, and proved himself of great, aid to Kate Arnold. Some- how, he began to feel an interest in her writings, and inserted many of them in his own periodical work. In the mean time, while there seemed to be a hope- ful prospect that Mrs. Arnold might obtain consider- able literary distinction, the aspect of her own home grew dark and dreary. Frederic Arnold was in a fault-finding mood much of the time, and Hannah lI Callender had but' little patience to bear with him. i He could smile", and smile, and be a villain, for a while: but no one could live with him for any length of time, and remain ignorant of his true character. Olne day, feeling dissatisfied with himself and every- body else, he became abusive in language, and com- menced grumbling unreasonably with Hannah. This. aroused her indignation ; and she *told him -ome page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] 166 K ATE C A LLF NDER. wholesome truths- that she had kept pent up for, a long time. She called him a drunkard and a gam- bler; .and told him she could not endure to remain under the same "roof, if it were not for the sympathy she felt- for her sister. Mr. -Arnold became so enraged that he appeared like-,an insane man, and flung at her the vilest epi- thets he could use. Mrs. Arnold was seated in, an adjoining room, in an abstracted, absent-minded sort of manner, and en- gaged in writing. Somehow, she thought that there was a din of -some kind- going on; but she did not realize what it was that had created such a disturbance. Hannah aroused her friom her meditations with a rough shake, and said, . - : , ' I can't imnagine what- you are made of, thllat you will tlet that brute abuse me in the way he- has, and you sit here without saying one word." Hannah's, face was red with indignation, and the tears; were in -her eye. '"What jisitl?, I have not heard," answered Mrs. Arnold. ",:re -' you deaf? Have you no ears:? Well, it may be fortunate if you have not any hearing. But I hayve staid here:and borne: insult for your sake and - little Charley's -as; longas I can,; and now I -am in- : te ndinglto leave as soon aso I can make my prepara- - tions. i'. Hf -I; were tied to such :a :man as y6ur! iusband :is o)ne .orhtlhe "o r trof us would be gladto run away, - ordorsoniething desperate!" ' RECONeTTrTATION. 167 Mrs. Arnold disliked to part with her) sister;" -but, considering. the 'circumstances,. she could not urge her to remain. Hannah Callender had considerable discretion, and. determined not to tell her parents how unpleasantly Kate was situated. - She knew it would only cause them anxiety, and might liot help the matter. But Mrs. Callender was inclined to be a- little inquisitive, and often asked ler daughter questions with regard to Kate's domestic affairs that proved very puzzling to answer, unless she told the whole story. One day, Mrs. Callender said, - "Don't you think Kate would be happier, and get along better, if she would drop her writing, and take more interest in her housekeeping?" This aroused Hannah, so that she felt in a mood for explaining the true state of things. "Please don't speak of Kate with reproach' again, mother. There is trouble enough in that house ; but she is not responsible for any of it." Hannah said this, and shut her mouth in a decided manner, that precluded further questioning. Mrs. Callender had unwittingly drawn from her a secret which was likely to cause her considerable 'future uneasiness. Affairs grew more dreary and discouraging with Mrs. Arnold after her sister's departure. Her lius- band expected every thing to be arranged. for Jlis comfort, even when it was an-impossibility. Though j he would provide nothing for weeks at a time, he ' would be angry if his regular meals were not supplied ( him, S , ', ^" page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] 1685.. KATE OA LLFINDEE. Kate Arnold was sustained through these dis- couragements by a strong, high purpose. She had determined to suffer and endure every thing before she wOuld desert'her husband. - ,* / J ' $ , % g '. - . CHAPTER XXTII. THE BROKEN LI N'K. A TER this long lapse of time, would that I. had something more cheerful to record concerning the life of Mrs. Arnold! Her home is with the poor and lowly; the furniture is very scanty, and of the cheapest quality, and everything around her betokens* poverty. Though she llas experienced much of woe and bitterness, her life hlas not been all sorrow, Margaret Morrison las cluhg to her like a brave, true friend, through all, her adversity, assisting her often with the labor of herown hands, and cheering her with hopefil, encouraging words. Then she has had baby's innocent smiles and- childhood's roguish, prattle, to keep alive a feeling of joy aud tenderness in her heart,y and to bring to her pen still-another in- aspiration. Though suirrounded by trials, Kate Arnold feels as though she has had muchlcause for thankfulness. She Ihas had her health; and, tlihough very poor, neither hlerself: nor child have ever hungered, or suffered for the comforts of jlife. She has taken .upon herself the labors of an actress; and this, united with the pro- ceeds of her pen, serves to keep her inl comfortable circumstances. 169e " , ^' ' " ' page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 170 KATE CALTtRNDERO She had always possessed a high order of dramatic talent; and Margaret Morrison, perceiving that the - confined life she was leading in-doors would in time -, prove ruinous to her health, had proposed to her this cliange. Mrs. Arnold objected a little at first, on ac- ;' - . ,count of being obliged to leave her boy alone; but ' Margaret kindly volunteered to remain with him at all times when it was necessary. A little training developed the talent she possessed, :and she made an excellent actress; and she soon found that this occupation, besides being remunera- tive, served to draw away her mind from her domes- tic miseries. '-But what shall we say of Arnold? Nothing hopeful, nothing encouraging! Down, down he sinks lower in vice, if such a thing is possible. Though the wife still clings'to this load of degradation, Margaret Morri- son, who is familiar with her experience and suffer- ings, knows that she will endure it but a little while longer. TheJ youlg wife had determined to remain true to the promises she had made at the altar, till neither morality nor religion would require her to " . make- the sacrifice any longer. She knew herself to be morally divorced and separated from her husband, -- and there was within her own soul a constant doubt 'as to whether it was not a greater sin: to be continually tolerating this semblance of an obligation than to pub- licly disavow it. Throughout her whole married life, Mrs. Arnold had seen the uncle of her husband but a few times. He had intruded into her apartmelnts somewhat abruptly THE BROKEN LINK. 171 one day, and had soon made himself known by saying, in a gruff manner,- "I have come in here for the purpose of seeing the person who has been foolish enough to marry my nephew." A woman who has a bad husband usually knows it,. and does not relish being reminded of it any better for that. Mrs. Arnold had been at first inclined to feel indig- nation at this disagreeable, salutation ; but, as Mr. Manning appeared feeble in body and mind, she had suppressed it. HEe had informed her of many things she had never known before ; told- her of the fate of Arnold's father and mother, and how he had tried every means in his power to reform his nleplew; how he had hoped agaiirst hope, and had finally discarded him forever He seemed to take collsiderable interest in little Char- ley Arnold. He called him to his side, and told him if lie would grow up unlike'his father in character, he would be his friend. The little fellow, though hardly four years old, understood what this meant. He had placed his little arms, in a comforting way, around his motler's neck many times, when his father was abus- ing her with slanderous language. Mr. Manning had a kind heart, though his words and manners were ratiher gruff. He talked nervously and excitedly, and, during his conversation, would often thump his cane down on the floor in an emphatic . manner. ' . Learning her husband's antecedents did not tend to * * page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] 172 KATE CAT.,LTNDER.- bring, any thing ofl hope and encouragement to the wife's heart. Margaret Morrison knew she had taken upon her- self a great responsibility when she had promised to care for little Chailey Arnold during his mother's *' . absences; but she adhered faithfully to her promise. Mr. Arnold hlated her, and s he was obliged to be very much of the, time in his presellnce. - - - She was well aware of the violence of his temper, as She lhad frequently seen him snatclh pen and paper from his wife's hand, and upset the table, and break dishes, in some fit of rage. He had abused herself, - too, with his. toligue; but like all martyrs, by being continually obliged to contend against opposition, Margaret kept herself always hi a state of -defence. - Thoughll morally courageous, she knew that there was a great physical disadvantage between hersellf and Mr. :.Arnold; for this reason, when alone with him, discreet Margaret chose rather to bridle her tongue, and treat lhim witl the same indulgence one would use towards all insane man or an idiot, than to throw away any iseless argument. Mr.- Richards continued to assist Kate Arnold some- what in the ,preparation of manuscript; though she had .less of this work to do than formerly, on account ^; o -of her performances at the theatre. He had been detained late at his office one night, and was retunling * towards his home, when he met Mrs. Arnold. The lateness: of the hour, and- the sharp, frosty air, ren- diered :it singular that a woman like her should have :: ventured into the cold, without some important ob- HE BROKEN LINK. 173 ject to urge her forth. - He immediately addressed her, and offered his company and protection. Her manner seemed troubled and anxious; and she explained her errand by saying, that her boy was suf- fering from a severe attack of croup, and she had come out to obtain a doctor's prescription. She seemed disinclined to converse,. and Mr. Richards accompanied her silently to her home. He was as- tonished when he reached the house, and noticed the appearance of poverty exhibited there. Kate Arnold had always appeared pleasant and cheerful, and neatly dressed; and he was entirely ignorant of her circulm- stances. She spoke of a manuscript that she would like to have him finish, as it would be utterly impos- sible for her to cdmplete it, owing to the sickness of lier child ; and he entered the house to wait for it. There, sitting over the stove, and holding in liis hand a newspaper and in his -mouth a cigar, was Frederic Arnold. He bole in his couintenance unmis- talable signs of vice alId dissipation; and Mr. Rich- ards could not but regard the man with a feeling of contempt, as he thought of his permitting his wife to go out alone on such a night, while he sat at llome enjoying the fire. Arnold looked up 'angrily at the visitor, and said in the most sneering tone imaginable, "You find it-in your way to be a gallant for the ladies, I see?" "Yes, sir," answered Richards boldly. "I found your wife out upon the street alone; and the thought came at once into my mind, how I should dislike to see mother, sister, or wife of, mine, if I had anir, oi t at \ page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] 174 KATE CAL TETDER.' such a time of night. Considering her safer under my protection than alone, I ventured to accompany her home." Rage, hate, and jealousy, were expressed in Fred- eric Arnold's countenance as he answered,- "When I wish to place my wife under your care, I will let you know." -Mrs. Arnold liad heard nothing of all this. She Bhad given Richards the manuscript, and then hurried to her sick boy, who lay in the adjoining room. Mr. Arnold -poured forth a stream of vile oaths, and then began to puff away fiercely at his cigar, after their-visitor had. departed.- -His wife noticed that the smoke affected seriously her child's breathing. She informed him of this circumstance, and asked him if he. would not smoke in another room. 1 He made her no answer, but continued smoking. The -poor' mother was nearly distracted. The child's breathing became more difficult, and he would have serious fits of coughing. She longed to snatch the dreadful cigar from her hus- baid's hands, and throw it into the fire; but she knew very well that it would, do no good: he would either get another, or revenge himself in some other way, At last Mr. Arnold arose, threw his chair over with a crash, and left the house, slamming the door behind him. She knew no cause for this anger, and had long ago ceased to ascribe any motives to his actions. the room where the child was sick was a small one, and there was- but little means of ventilation; but she re- stored a better atmosphere, as far as she possibly could, , ? ' -, t THE BROKEN LINK. - .. . 17i by opening the windows of the room her husband ha' just-left. She applied all the remedies and gave al the medicines that the doctor had prescribed; but the symptoms seemed to become more alarming. Through that dark, dreary night the anxious mother remained alone witlh her sick child, no friends nea: to assist or comfort her; for her husband had by hi: conduct driven them nearly all from-her.. And there on that lonely night, as the long-abused wife sat in he] agony and desolation, listening to' the ringing cougl of her sick child, the last frail link that bound hei to the inhumanity of her husband was severed. Alone with her head buried in the bed-covering, she made f solemn vow, - a vow made with such a determina. tion and earnestness that no human power could ever make her retract it, or cause her to turn from her pur pose. , Though her husband might come home penitent, though lie might go down on his knees and crawl be. fore her, even though he should reform in reality and permanently, she never could forgive or forget; and n power on earth should bind -her longer to such a dreadful allegiance. She knew there was no virtue: but there was degradation, in continuing to reside with suc lia being as her hiusband. By leaving him she would violate no sanctity of marriage, would dissever no holy bonds. . . . . . Call this a plea for divorce; call me a " foe to society," a " free-lover," or what you like: but I will here express my opinion. I believe marriage to be a civil contract, often per- 1 , *. page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] "16 K OATE ATTiENDER. -a. **** ; ' . - ' . - 6 ! formed without priest or player. Two people are bound together by the law; and the same law that binds them together can, also dissolve the bond when human happi- ness and safety demand it, I acknowledge a -sacred- ness and sanctity in marriage, and that it becomes a holy linIk, when, as the poet says,-. "Two that are linked in one heavenly tie, With heart never-changing, and -brow never cold, Love on through all ills, and love on till they die." But what kind of a bond or union do you call it when virtue is wedded to depravity? when two people marry foolishy, :blindly, and against reason? Does not grace and .refinement often ally itself to- coarseness and brutality? and can you ever make such qualities assimilate? You can command the wife to love and respect her unsband, no matter how unlovable and repugnant he nay be to her; but can you make her do it? I doubt t. She :may colntinue to keep up the semblance. I espect the'marriage-bond :when it is holy, whet it is :aecesd; but there are often cases when both virtue oid-,religion require it to- be dissolved . . . I am leitheryoung nor old-; yet I lrave lived long enough to iew the matters of this world with a-speczlative, unro- nantic: eye; -and I will here append a -few remarks 'for 'lie benefit of the unmarried. You may have no inter- ist, and may skip' over what I am now writing, think- agit is- prosy.: but never mind; I shall only have fasted a little: mote paper. Whexn a-person enters -into a business partnership, ,-' ' * e e n s , . ' - I I - THE BROKEN LINK. 1" he views all the advantages and disadvantages of the position; he examines thoroughly the qualifications of his partner, and notes carefully every circumstance connected with the arrangemfent likely to insure suc- cess or defeat, and governs his actions, accordingly. So, likewise, in buying a house or a horse, lie shows the same cautiousness and business consideration. But when he comes to select a wife, where are -his wits? where is his reason? Flown! scattered! Though in the former case ie may dissolve the partnership if it prove unsatisfactory, and can sell his house or his. iorse if it does not suit his fancy, yet a wife chosen without regard to suitability or qualification is not o30 easily disposed of, no matter how much he may regret the transaction. A lover is apt to, compare his lady to a canary. He ;hinks he can place her in a cage, and. she will there ing to him all day: he imagines that!a little cllick- weed or a few cents' worth-rof canary-seed per diem will be sufficient for the internal wants of her little :rame, and that, for her outward adornmlnent, a glit- ;ering plumage :will spring forth spontaneously, which ?he can keep in order by means of her little bill. --But [ am a woman,-I say it boldly yet sorrowfully, --and I 'an destroy your delusion. A poor. woman, now-a-days, is in the hands of a milliner or dressmaker, nearly all the time: she- must be trimmed, puffed,:ruffled, feathered, pointed, scalloped, and laced; and, to supply all this iummery, you will find that she will draw heavily-on yourt bllsh whleler it pleases you or no-t. But -I can expose another thing with- regard to these :little" "12 . . . . - - ' ' d - " , ' . , . -' 1 . page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] !15O , K. ATE CALLENDER. "Ioves," or "doves." I never knew one yet, no mat- ter how brown and curly her hair, how soft, blue, and heavenly expressive-her eyes, but what would eat great plates of soup, ro ast-beef, and plum-pudding. To be sure, there are some rare exceptions: a young girl - while in love 'may not, at times, have a very sharp ap petite; but you may be quite sure she will make up for this deficiency after she is marriedl ' Then-my young lady is equally deluded, and more so, perhaps. She imagines her lover has a noble, lordly air, when to every other- person his appearance is graceless and " woodeny; ' she thinks him kind, de- votedand self-sacrificing (that is because she lhas never met him when lhe was lhungry, or needing some but- tons sewed on his clothhig) ; she expects lie will have an inexhaustible stock of money to -meet those long mfilliners')land dressmakers' bills, and that it will be to ;him an i'describable pleasure to place it in her little hand. (?) Take .my advisce, young unmarried people, and in your -matrilmonial affairs u'e lthe same sagacity and goodsense , you display in your business transactions! B speculative, shrewd, and wise I ' - You may, say'that you prefer to enjoy a little delu- sion: and romance, even if you are scorched, than to -take such advice. Well,.follow- your own inclinations ;and you may, intime, be anxiously inquiring for some " balm in - H presume you all think I' must be some sour old : maid, or that I have been disappointed in my matri- THE BROKEN LINK. ' 179 monial expectations. I will be a little confiding on that point. I have known something of "-moonshine " in my day; and I am also familiar with the sunshine and clouds of the mratrimonial horizon. But I am an egotist; and I shall never stop talking about myself if I once become interested in the subject. My dear readers, you will never 'know much more -aboutF my affairs than I choose to tell you. Where is my hero- "ine?' or where is my hero? I have nearly forgotten. them. .. page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] -i . .. ' , ' - , XiAP"t WR XXIV. ; ' . : \ ' - . . j JEALOUSY. A RTH UIt RICH^ARDS tried in vain to distract his , thoughts from Mrs. Arnold: he could not forget her nervous, anxious manner, and the apparent pover- tjr and misery of her situation. He knew that she re- ceived large remittances for her writings, and' he had supposed her to be living in comfort and affluence. Mr. Richards was a gentleman, in every sense of the word. He wasgenerous and self-sacrificing; his own comfort was ever secondary to that of a friend. The Wounded soldier on the battle-field or suffering in .the hospital, and his acquaintances in affliction, had good reason to;remember him always with gratitude. He:had strong sympathies, and they were fairlr - roused for Mrs. Arnold: He determined, to see Mar- garet Morrison, and consult with her as to what could : be doneto ameliorate her friend's distress. Margaret had been confined to her room for several days with a :sore throat, and did not dare to venture out of doors. --She:felt sadly grieved when she heard of Kate Ar- nold'ssituati I , and regretted much flthatshe was unable" to reidermher any assistance. She knew her " :ircumastances, her poverty, and tlat she had provis: s . . . .. 1 - ; i JEALOUSY. 181 ion only for immediate wants:- the moment -she w -s obliged to discontinue her labors, she had no resource whatever. 'Her friends and acquaintances had been. driven: away by the insolence of the husband no-one scarcely, but herself, dared to " beard the lion in his den" - - "If Kate Arnold is alone with her husband and sick child, may God pity her!" she said to Richards. "I never supposed-your frie'nd was in such unfortu- nate circumstances, till my own eyes witnessed her situation. She always seemed happy, and had a jolly,' spirited manner of talking with me about her writ- ings." - "K ate had spirit once, and I sometimes think ;she has got some of it now, and will not bear her persecu- tions' much longer. I liave known her through her whole life, from the time she was a little child. No one ever could have made me believe once that she would have borne patiently what she has." Mr. Richards made some inquiries about Frederic Arnold; but Margaret said, for her friend's sake, she would prefer not to express her opinion concerning him. They made arrangements together for immediate assistance. Margaret gave -Mr. Richards what money she had to spare, and told him to see that Kate Arnold , did not suffer for any ting. - Mrs. Arnold looked pale and worn when Mr. Rich- ards called with the articles her friend had sent, and asked after the sick boy. . '"e! is a little better to-day, but that is usual. 1 b, - page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] '182 1KATE CALTENDER., RHe is very much distressed at night,"' answered the mother. ThBre was such a loook of weariness about her, Mr. Richards said he Iwould come an"d watch that night with the child, that she might obtain relief, and rest. Mrs. Arnold gladly accepted the offer. She knew he was kind-hearted, by what Margaret had said, and by the good feeling he had always manifested towards -her. sMr. Richards was a tender nurse. He had been among sickl 'and wounded soldiers in the hospital; - and the 'mother felt confidence at once tlant her child would receive very careful attention from his hands. ' She-gave him all necessary instructions with regard -. :.to the medicine: she saw Mr. Richards smooth her child's pillow, and arranige the bed-clothes comforta- bly, manifesting the thloughtful care of a woman; and then -.sought her much-needed repose. Mrs. Arnold, - being nearly exhausted by-her severe daily labors and anxious night-watchings, soon fell asleep. ; She was aroused-late in the night: by a loud noise. Her husband had returned home, and was rattling h hard against the windows and doors, and muttering incoherently. He had either forgotten to take a night- key with him, or was incapable of using dne. " -:The wife' arose instantly, opened the door for ler hlusbandandnd lit a lamp that hemight be enabled to see hls way. Hewas, as usual at such times, somewhat inder the effects of bad liquor, and grrumbled and swore because he had"-been kept waiting., Mr. Richards had - left his hat in the hall, and Arnold espied it, and asked JEALOUSY. 18- whose it was. Mrs. Arnold immediatelytold him; and, that Mr. Richards hadkindly offered to watch with their'sick boy. Upol hearing this, his rage knew no bounds. He rusled to the room where Richards was, and poured upon him a torrent of abuse. Towards his wife he used the vilest.'and most insulting epithets he could devise. Hate and jealousy nearly consumed him.. He went up towards his pale, trembling wife as though lie would strike hers down. Richards restrained him with a strong!hand; and there was no sign of fear or quailing in his eye as he said, - "( Mr. Arnold, had you spoken the vile, unjust lan- guage that you have used towards any other woman as pure-minded and innocent as I know your wife to be, I would have made you retract, or stretched you upon this floor." And then he added sarcastically, 'f As her husband you have, perhaps, a legal right to in- sult and abuse her; 'and I, under sull circumstances (that I may appear properly to the eyes of the world), must remain a silent and inactive, spectator." Richards knew very well that his presence could do nothing towards quieting the' state of affairs, and,- soon after, left' the hlouse. He walked .the streets a long time, ill an agitated manner, trying to, devise some way by which the unhappy wife might be rescued from her situation of wretchedness and -danger. Left to himself,' and carried away by his increasing passion, Arnold, walked the floor rapidly. Cowardly, revengeful, and jealous, he longed, with an insane in- , tensity, to take the, life' of Richards., ' If my bullet' page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] 1 [84 "' KATE CALLENDER. does not:miss itsmark, I will have his heart's blood [" h, muttered. He watched for an opportunity; and, like a snake, he glided up to his defenceless foe to strike him downs: but hefailed in his murderous intent,- the first time o h* ' ,^ " -^ . ^ * * * ** ^ '* CHAPTER XXV. AN OLD FRIEND BEHND THE FOOTLIGUTS. R. WILLARD hIad entered .-the ministry with, somewhat selfish motives. He had chosen this profesSionuas a profitable occupation; as :a means of gratifyinghis ambition, and displaying his elocluence. But he had sincerity enough in his nature to wisli to understand the truth himself, that .lhe might make, it known to his hearers. For this reason he perused his Bible with zeal and, earnestness, made himself familiar with its teachings, and gradually grew in'.grace. To His eloquence, I am happy to state, he has added wis- dom and truth, and is now faithfully performing Iis share of work in his Master's vineyard. The influence of his good-riatured, common-sensical wife has done much towards eradicating his eccentricities and ego- tism: she has assisted him to become a good servant of the Lord. His society in Brooklyn have shown their appreciation of his services by increasing his'sal- ary, and enlarging and beautifying their house. He: now occupies a prominent position among the " pro- gressionists'" and " free-religionists 'of the day. Though some of, our evangelical ministers say'that his doctrinepartakes more of the philosophy of Plato than 186 page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] - 1'86-. -ESKATE CATLLTINDER. the religion of Jesus Christ, I think otherwise. He is prealching the ;truth asit appears to him, and is adapt- ing himself to the mind and feeling of the age. We know well that tlihe manner of presenting doctrines hlas changed, is still changing; for no Baptist or Or- thodox' clergymen would be tolerated, in the pulpit should they undertake to exhort and threaten in the way they did fifty years ago. - Judging somewhat of the spirit of the worship in *" the: olden time by the style of the psalms and lhymns that were, sung in those days, we can but arrive at the conclusion that Evangelicals have progressed re- markably in their mlanner of exhortation. They certainly have become more enlightened, and express themselves much more mildly as regards the future'punishme'nt of sinners. The bottomless pit of to-dayhas been shorn of many of its terrors, and is a , ,very different -place from what it was a hundred years- ago. e We quote here the following suggestion, taken from an, old collection of'Sternhold and Hopkins, re- :garding the treatment of those unfortunates who had i hot been -changed, in lheart, and gathered into the fold: - "Ahndlike an oven burn them, Lord, ., Infiery flame and fume: ". :. Thine :anger shall desthoy them all, And fire shall them consume. . And theo shalt root out of the earth .: Theirfuit that should increase,; Andfr onithe number of thyfolk *; -Their seed shall end and cease. ' mPdA xs I Stermhold an fopkms, ! .... AN OLD FRIEND BBPSTWD }TH-E FOOTLIGHTS. -S7 Here we: have something in the style of horrible congratulations:-- "The just shall joy: it doth them goo d That God doth vengeance take; And they shall wash their feet in blood Of those who him forsake. PsA. lvi*i. 10 Ste*nold aSopt ar. Though the language of the following -sentiment is very simple, and far from the sublime, still, we can perceive a moral in it that may apply to the spirit of the present age:- / "He digs a ditch, and delves it deep, In hope to hurt his brother; But he shall fall into the pit That he digged up for other." If I ever have become, or ever should become, a good Universalist, I should ascribe the fact to the large and repugnant dose of Orthodoxy! imbibed in my earlier -years. ' Early impressions are lasting; and there is one of mine that I most certainly have- not forgotten. When about the age of that heroic boy who acknowledged that' he had cut his father's tree with a hatchet, but differ- ing from him as regards my conscientious scruples, I told a lie. It was a juvenile lie, very weakly imbued with sin, and involved no person's :good- name or for- tune,-nothing to be compared to the malicious fab- rications TI might invent at the present time, should I feel an inclination. that way; for I believe, as some page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] t8 ' K ATEO CALLENDER C person hias said before me, that men and women are but- ciiildren of 4 larger growth,- oliy a great deal jw orse' ' But that:thoughtless untruth of mine caused' me to feel anl inexpressible terror, when my elder sister, with an expression of worldly wisdom in her young: face, told me that I would surely be burned up. That sister: possessed a lively imagination; and the description of the burning process lost nole of its ex- travagant coloring in being detailed by her lips. And here, in Justice to the dear, departed one, who has gone to her lnal: resting-place, where the great Mys- tery is unveiled; in justice .to the memory of that loved sister, of whom I can never speak or think with- outdroppiing a tear of sadness and regret,-. I will add, that she received her instructionl from older and wiser persons than herself, and, witlh all sincerity of purpose, endeavored to impress my mind with the same teachings. But the world "' has moved ; we are "marching on:" and "I think thepe are very few, if any, persons of the present age who have a sufficiently bad taste to -mrish to revive eithler the old style of preaching, or to sing praises to the Lord in the tones and words of a hun- dred; years ago --- Though doctrines may change, and the manner of expressing ideas, still the everlasting Truth: remains 'thl,'same . . ' t- - e* ' - - W Wrillad found an abundance of happiness in liher-ioimejand famiy. It is her nature to be happy. She. is:surrounded by sixrosy, healthy children.' She ' -,. ' w- s uk - ' e six , ro y alth y, - AN OLD FRIEND- BEHND TH:E FOOTLIGHTS. 189 has not as yet got the modern notion into her head that children'will detract something from her own consequence: ona the contrary, she- believes that each one adds a great deal to her lionor and glory. They are a mischiievous, noisy set,-as -ministers' -children are apt to be,- and a little more so; for the mother is indulgent, and their father is too much absorbed in his new theories, and in writing sermons, to pay much attention to their coniduct. Mrs. Willard 'has another cause' for happiness: her fatherl has become reconciled to her marriage, HEe was taken sick; and the quiet of the sick-room prob- ably gave him an opportunity for reflection. Ho longed to see his only child; and, feeling as though he could forgive her this one act of- disobedience, he. sent for her to come home. She set out immediately, tended her father thlrough his sickness till he lre- covered, and a mutual good feeling- and reconciliation: was restored between them. Mr. Davidson, like a sen- sible man, concluded that his daughter might have done much worse thlan to marry a minister of Mr. Willard's position and- influence. Rev. Herbert Willard's ministerial duties had riot caused him to lose his appreciation of a good play. He went occasionally to the- theatre, and also to pri- vate tleatricals. He came in one day, and :informied his wife --that "Romeo and. Juliet" was to be performed that night, and asked her if she would not like :to accompany- him: and. she consented. . * V"This is -my favorite play, you: know, Matty," he !- , --. ' ' . % ' * / f' * page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] 190 : . - - -/KATE CATr-LFPNDER. said; " and I never can listen to it without thinking of Kate Callender.- I used to drill and scold the poor girl;, tillA she would get vexed alnd out of patience; !, and then I was -obliged. to change my tacticis, and flatter and coax her, or I should have lost my Juliet. "; - By the: Way, shewould have made an excellent actress, if she had but cultivated her dramatic talent.'. '/Mr,; Willard and his wife often spoke of their old schoolmate, Katp Callender. They had never for- gotten iher, thougli they had lost sight of her for some :years. She had never written to Matty, nor answered lMr. Willaid's letter; and they had supposed. that she did not care to continue the friendship. , rMr. Willard listened to the play this time with an uncommon interest. -Old reminiscences came back to -his -mind in an unusual, unaccountable manner. -And zow the actress com'es to the third scene of, the fifth - act-,where Juliet, awakeniing from her stupor, and still wandering, cries, "Where is my lord? Where is my Ro'meo?" Her manner was:truly affeoting,i and pub- lic ent husiasm arose high: flowers were thrown to her from box, pit, and gallery, and fell in showers at -her feet.- Mr. Willard appeared excited: he seized liis wife by the arm in an abrupt manner, and exclaimed in a loud tone, expressive of wonder and conviction, - : "-If :/thatz actress is not our old friend, Kate Cal- lender, then my mind is surely wandering l" , ::Sure, enoughll, it was Kate Arnold. Though she -had changed in form, expressiona of countenance; and voibce, there: was something of her former manner AN OLD FRIEND BEHND THE FOOTLIGHTS. 191 still remaining, that convinced Mr. Willard and his wife that she could be none 'other than their old- schoolmate.,' They made many speculations concerning the cir- cumstance of meeting her upon the -stage so unex- pectedly, after such a loing separation. The sight 'of their old friend aroused their former interest and at- tachment, and they determined to seek her out forth- with, by making inquiries concerning her whereabouts of the theatre-manager. - page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] -' \ -. . ': *CAr "lY1 O]:A IER XXVI. SUNSHNE THROUGH THE CLOUDS. . " TCARTLY a year has elapsed since we last met with Kate Arnold; and we find her now intmore comfortable and much happier circumstances. Re- leased from the burden of shame, she can now feel something of freedom, and much of self-respect. Til- ented, respectable, and amiable, she is surrounded by friends, and has regained her proper position in society. From the purpose she formed over the sick-bed of her child she had never departed nor faltered. She had waited only till her boy had' recovered suf- ? ficiently to bear removal, and the quietly but de- el -to bear en qunqitl u e termiinedly made her ,preparations for departure. Though heri, husband had told her that he would shoot her down if she crossed the threshold, and though she had known full well that he was. capable of carrying out this murderous threat, yet death for her was- more to be desired than a life with him; and she never deviated from her course. She had believed / that her own life and safety, and that of her darling boy, demanded of ' her to seek a place of protection. She believes that she had been saved from a Sick- bed, during her child's dangerous illness, by the timely bed, d' iia 192- SUNSHNE THROUGH THE CLOUDS, 193 assistance and kindness of Arthur Bichards together with Margaret Morrison. They had provided every thing they could for her comfort during those dark days of tribulation. And what reward did Richards recei-ve for his kind- ness of heart? He was shot and wounded by an enraged and jeal- ous husband, because Ihe had befriended his wife. It is all well enough for a man to have kindlness and sympathy in his nature; but he shouldl never dis- play these qualities towards a wife that has been neg- lected and ill treated by her husband. As long as there are evil eyes and evil minds watching greedily for an'* opportunity to indulge in scandal, and ready to misconstrue actions and mo- tives, a man should smother all generous and-honorable feelings towards an oppressed anid suffering woman, (?) O tempera! O mores!, Save us from such a state of society! But Arthur Richards did not entertaiu this view of the subject. He had known Kate Arnold for a long time, and had taken no special interest in her affairs,- - no more than he might feel towards any:talented author; -but when he had found her in affliction, and needing' assistaupe, he had not supposed that he must restrain all noble impulses, and "pass by on the otlher side," but had; chosen to alleviate her distress.' Since her separation from her husband,he has -had an opportunity of seeing her often, and has found out the - intrinsic worth of her character. -He knows her to be amiable and lovable, And what are his 13 -' ' *' ' * v[* ' " ' *- v' - - - , , - page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] -11-94 ' KATE CATTLEINDER. feelings towards her now? He is not a man likely to boncealh is true sentimaents towards any one ; and Mar- garet Morrison can tell. She has expressed her opinion plainly to him with regard to the character of Mr. Arnold, now that her friend is no longer allied to him; and Richards knows these relations are sundered forever. Margarett has in many respects acqulired the shrewdness and research of a lawyer: she knnows all about a married woman's rights- and liabilities as regards propertyj and has constantly reminded Mrs.., Arlold of the importance of securing a legal separa- tion from her husband. Though she knows her friend - can obtain a divorce at any-time in her own city, and without leaving hiome, still; as her legal adviser, she recommends to her a different method of procedure. In a discussion on the subject, she said,- "Remember that you are Kate Arnold, the actress land authoress; that you are a public cliaracter, and can have 'no private affairs. I know sometlhin' of this- annoyance myself; for, as a lecturer on woman's rights, I have been made ati object of public ;ridicule and misrepresentation, and my words and ideas 'have been so distorted, you would have been unable to re- cognize my identity. "If -you should instituteda proceeding for divorce in this city, your name would become a by-word in the bar-rooms and 'all the low places of resort. They will -attribute to your course any thing but virtuous motives. "Then, there are newspaper editors here who ex- - pect to- sell their. papers by publishing such cases; ^ * * , * / , ,' ,! . . SUNISHNE THROUGH THE CIOUDS. t5 1 - and they will make an immorality out of them if they possibly can, that tIiey may better suit their purpose. To be sure, these things do not have any effect with. regard to the opiioni of people who know us: but still, everybody is not acquainted with our true char- acter; and, when a slander once arises, it is not easily beaten down. I have had many trials, and have- had ,to struggle hard against public opinion; but I have never had to bear with and battle against any thing more vexatious than a lie." O0 Margaret! if you had only devoted yourself to authorship, you would haive encountered something more annoying than that." "What do you mean?" said Margaret eagerly. "You have never as yet written sufficiently to invite- the attention of the critics. When youl once begin to get up a reputation that way (and I think you will, in time), you will find they will instantlyset upon you like a. pack of howlingt wolves. You. will be re- minded forcibly of those words of Sterne :- "*' Grant me patience, just Heavens! Of all the cants which are cainted in this canting world, though the cant of hypocrisy may be tol worst, the cant of criti- cism is the most tormenting! i' "Ah, well!" answered Margaret. "-I have learned, that the more I have to endure, so much the more I am strengthened; and, as I have not been frightened by the bow-wow of the dogs, I shall be able to with- stand the howling of the wolves, should they com- mence an attack." But I am digressing. When these two people, Mar- page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] l Yff O s .KEATE CALLENDER. garet Morrison and Kate Arnold, get together, they make long: speeches a and lead me away from my sub- ject or Ileadem away leadead each other :aWay:; -I donlt krndw . which i's responsible.- Now, I -said some tiiae -ago, that Margaret Morrison knew what Mr*.'Richards's feelings were towards Kate Ar- nold:; and, with the conceit of an author, I imagine my readers are anxious to know. Somehow, Mrgaret loved to talk with,Mr. Richards about Kate Arnold's affairs.; and hie always listened with great attention. In an indifferelrt sort of way, she. had mentioned to him tlat' Kate Arnold intended to be legally separated from her hlusband, and was some- what startled by the effect produced by her words. Richards had sprung up from his chair in an excited manner Ai he had' takefl both of her hands in his as lio man'had ever done- before or has since, anid had said il ,a lhusky voice,- ,' Good heavenst Should I ever live to see the day when Kate Arnol! is a free woman, I will some- time mmarryher; that is, if I can get ller consent to marry so poor .a man, as I am, and one so undeservingl of the rich--:reward of her- love." - -Margaret had beenF astonished by this extravagant demonstration -at first; but she had soon conjectured- tliat itwas- but another -example of the workings of "' tihat mysterious power "Kate had mentioned in for- -mer tim"es. 'u ,. :WiseMargaret! orunate Margaret! though igno- rant of the lysterious power of love, you ktnow every thitig tha tit: is foryour interest to know. \. . . . - " - ' * SUNSHNE .-THROUGH- THE CLOUDS. i97- Mr. Richards was impulsive, and incapable of dis- sembling; anld the words of Margaret had caused hopes ' ; to arise that he could not. suppress. If -le was wrong - ' in this, the wrong leaned strongly towards virtue: he was too sympathetic, too sincere, generous, andd loving. He .wished -not tio, and-. could not in this, case, vio - late -the sanctity' of any, domestic relation;, and he : would rather have sacrificed his own- lappiness than have done Mrs. Arnold harm either by thought or deed. - And what were Kate Arnold's feelings in the matter? .; 'Sh'e regarded Mr. Richards as any pure-minded wioman ; might regard a person win) had acted nobly and gener- ously towards her in the hour of, affliction. She had double cause- for gratitude towards this- man ; for his kindness to her lhad nearly cost him his life: and thougth he could have arrested afnd brought the coward-i ly assassin to punishment, he had refrained from -this, out of respect to her who still bore his name. Though we can hardly say that she eutertained such a senti- ment as love towards him, it was something akin to it. The fiery furnace of affliction- she had passed through had purified her nature: it had taken from her some-'. -1 thnlg of the romance, vivacity, atd daring spirit of her - girlish days; ,but it had brought her tenderness, pa- tience, and self-reliance. ; During all this"time, Frederic Arnold was- skulking, around, and persecuting his wife whhe hecould. Sometimes he w6uld sendher threatening letters, and pretend he meant to take her child away from: her, though: he had no natural affection for him, and-was incapableof providing'for his wants. Though the'wife:,-'-. page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] 198 KATE CALTLTINDER. had buried her husband, and he was to her as one dead, in7'many respects, yet his evil spirit would spring up in her pathIway: totorment her on every possible occa- sion. Like a levengeful fiend, he was following her footsteps, and watching for an opportunity to blacken her -future. Among her numerous friends, Kate Arnold- could now, reckon the Rev. Herbert Willard ,and his wife. They had sought her out; and the friendly re-union was a joyous one, and will probably continue as long as their lives last. Mr. Willard, with all his dignity and higsl standing in society, was proud to acknowledge that Kate ;Arnold the actress was his friend; and even afterwards, when her name was slanderedj when false motives were attributed to her conduct, he came brave- ly forth before the public, and, with words of truth and eloqience, vindicated the purity of hier character and motives. tre feelings of his heartand e ol knows - "1 CHAPTER XXVII.- UP WITH THE TIMES. ' THE law now acknowledges that the last link is sev- 1 ered which bound Kate Arnold to her husband, Arthur Richards now expresses with more freedom the t-rue feelings of his heart; and Kate- Arnold knows -a that she has a-right to listen to his words. Does she love him? -Ifwe call only-that impulsive, fancy-tinted sentiment of her girlish 'days love, perhaps she does ,not. She cherishes for him a love and respect founded upoln the sterling merit and integrity of his character; a feeling less romantic, but more sensible, calmer, sad- der, more enduring, more under the guidance of rea- son, than her youthful-love. Ah, me! . Would that I had not founded this tale upon fact! and I would please -all my moral, well-dis- posed readers by not only marrying these two people together, but they should live a long life and a happy one. But a sadder task is in store for me, and a darker fate is for her. Would that this were a work of fiction! and then I should have, the power, either by some dreadful pestilence or famine, by a stroke of the 'sword, or rather the pen, to annihilate from the page of my book- that tiger who is watching an opportunity to 199 page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] 200 KATE CALLENDER. pounce upon his victims. My story is too real! too true! ? e These people, who are so well fitted to contribute to each other's life-long happiness, must hlave their fond hopes crushed, their bright dreams dispelled, and their lives blighted, by the fiend in lhuman shape, Wllo, with revengeful, blood-thrsty spirit, has determined to de- stroy them. I have but little more to say. . While tlile. frields of Kate Arnold were- anticipating for her the dawning of brightier and better days, and while she herself was cherishing a hope of comfort and quiet joys for the future, the revenigeful, cowardly assassin had' armed ihmself with a deadly weapon, and was watelling an opportunity to steal slily and cautiously, ltpol an innocent, defenceless man, and take away his life. Frederic Arnold had shot Arthur Richards! The soulid came with a fearful force to the ears of 'thllat lonlg-suffering woman.. Upon hearilg it, she ut- tered an agonizillng,cry, and fell senseless to the floor. They restored ller to consciousness, and tried to com- fort her by telling her the wound might not prove fatal, and -there was a slight possibility of lis recovery. But there was at her hleart a feeling of hopeless woe, sadness, and desolation:; and their words could give her but little encouragement. Slhe hurried, as soon as she waseable, to the bedside :of the dying man; and oh! how sad, how pitiful, was the meeting! It was heart-breaking and painful to Cwitfniess the alost hopeless grief of Kate Arnold ; and tle .injured man; for all his weakness and siffering UP WITH THE TIMES. 201 from his wound, placed hs arms around her, and tried-- to cheer, and restore to her mind strength and conso- lation. Kate knew they could be together but a short time on this side of the grave; and she watched by his bedside with unwearying care. Every thing that kild care and doctors' skill could do was done for the wounded man; but it was of no avail: he knew that death was slowly approaching. His last care, his last breath, and his last dying words, were for the woman he loved so well. -He knew all her sad history; and he also knew that his death would bring another grief to her already saddened and' overburdened heart. He wished to make -her his wife, that he might endow her with something of his worldly wealth, and- give to her a name unstained by dishonor and crime. O Love! O Death! While- the murdered man lay upon/lhis bed, with his life-blood ebbing slowly away, and while his loved one sat by his side, with her trembling halnd clasped in his, they were married. Amid sobs, tears, and- sympathies, these - two, so soon to be separated, were made one! But the lamp of life, which has sustained but a flickering blaze, goes out, and the: widow's heart is, shrouded in darkness. , They place the murdered. man in his grave, and the grief-stricken widow is left to her bitter tears. To s uch immeasurable woe we cannot offer the mockeries of consolation. * Can there be any person living, so destitute of justice, of .virtue,e' of human sympathies and feeling, that would deny to 'this suffering woman 'the poor , page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] 202" KATE CALLENDER. boon of being the widow and bearing the name of the man who loved her and died for her? From a sea bf iniquity, from the smoke and filth of bar-rooms, from the mouths of criminals and jail-birds' arises a denun- ciation against the afflicted?widow, and a sympathy for the black-lhearted assassin; and this cry, which has emanated from so vile a source, is echoed und elncour- aged by a certain class in the community, who, by their long familiarity with vice, have lost all faith in virtue. Then there are certain philanthropists wlio believe in the" sanctity of human life," not as re- gards a murdered man, but as regards the murderer who is in danger of the gallows. They make apolo- gies, they create a, symnpathy; and, by their false, teach- ings, the assassin has been encouraged to commit crimes: he tells you that " hanging is played out." What taught him that doctrine? I answer the question by asserting that he got his -idea from the lax administration of justice, and a mistaken lenieincy re- garding precedihlg -murder-trials; and he supposed that a forgiving and philantlhropic public would open a way of escape for him, as they have for others. To substantiate this point, I quote the following as regards the existing state- of society in our large * , . cities:- - "We-are having a fearful record of crime to hand down to future generations i The honest citizen 'no longer feels secure, either in person or property. Locks and bolts are no longer a safeguard. Crime stalks: abroad at, noonday as well as at night, And -defies: the, efforts of the police. Honest, peaceable, ,* , , , , ' , UP WITH THE TIMES. 203 lw-abiding citizens are tired of being trampled under foot by lawless cut-throats. A maxi leads a life of- crime, and is at last guilty of a capital offence. He is tried, convicted, and sentenced; and from that mo- ment' he becomes a hero. Ministers visit him, con- ' dole with him, and endeavor to prepare his soul for the journey through the valley-of the great mystery beyond the vail; ladies (?), call upon him, laden with delicacies and good advice; the- curious visit him, and extend sympathy to him; reporters interview him: and all, when they leave, shake him bythe hand, saying, "Good-by; cheer up; keep up your spirits: maybe every thing will turn out right yet.' I believe in the sanctity of human life, and that the blood of the murdered and the safety of the living-de- mand but " one punishment" -for the assassin. But you may say there are exceptions: a man-can murder sometimes, when he has cause, or thinks he has cause. JFor instance: if he happens to be of a jealous disposi- tion, and a person appears friendly towards his wife, if he is evil minded and suspicious, he can murder that person or his wife, or both, as he pleases! God forbid! I have a husband ("I that speak to you," or, rather, write to you, -for I have not taken to the stump yet), and he might become jealous; andI love this precious life of mine too well to advocate such a dangerous fanaticism. A murderer generally has cause for his crime: sometimes he Wishes to rob his victim; but the usual cause is the rising of passion and hate in his own evil n'ature. And- there/ is still i another cause, ,or, rather, excuse, and that is insarity. page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] 204, K ATE CALENDER. ' ' " , ' ' '. * ."* ' , * - . - Rageis temporary insanity; and a wretch is often i- :-, sane-from'lthlat, cause when he commits a murder: he - prefes to behis orn physician, and hleal himself in the. ," :i 'case, arindtherefe destroys the victim of his hatred. -. - O::tle te:twenity-fifth day of November, eighteen hun- (-a dtred/?and SixftynineArthR Richards received adeath- :- - would /froi the ' ffects of a 'pistol-ball discharged at -liM-b rederi Artold. - ^ - ::This was:th corollers verdict, and no person can - cherisl,- a doiubt of its truth. -:We, will read what the assassin says in his own de- , fence; at Iris examination: - - . "--await, for my vindication, the impartial trial guararteed tnme by the laws of the State. ':How much of :meanig anld sarcasm tiere is conveyed in those few - words! i :e judges of 0tle future by the past; he e: pects excuses and ;ap1ologies will be made for his con- - duict,:atnd -that lIe will be justified in -having commit- ted this murderous deed, byr an imppartial judge alid vutry. How mul-. of encouragement and comfort he must ha've obtained from, .such a reflection, before the fatal act was committed! 'And here, again, we obtain , some colew to., hs motives: " While I fully appreciate ;my osituation d and regard the future with becoming cotncerndand solicitude, it may be tloat time will dem- o: strate:tat the sanctity and safety of more social and 6 :^ morai'interests depend upon thesuccess of my defence thlan identify or connet tlemselves wit the mainte- : na-ne of ithe:roseution." He:gives us to understand -tha -,ormm'ited tihat crime for the social and moral beiefit of " man tind - *' '* ' . ' I - s* * - " i ,' * * " UP WITH THE TIMES. 205. God forbid that we should have anysuch reformers in our midst!. Suppose we had an army of avengers , going abroad and ..sweeping away every person -,who chanced to fall below the standard 'of is victim in morality and res'pectability! In such a state of society we should not, have suffi- , cient of the living to bury the dead; and; we poor mor- tals who might chance fo survive such a painful- catas- trophe would probably, after -wandering around a while over this deserted footstool, be giad to put-ana end to our lonely existence by plunging into some deeproll- ing river. ; -But to expatiate upon such a subject is not my-forte, and not congenial to my taste. I have been 'drawn into:this expression of opinion on account oftlthe truth- fulness of my story., I. have no, interest in ::this crim- inal, only as regards justice: his pardon or punisli- - ment will not raise :hisvicti rom f the gloom: of the grave, or the wretched widow from the darkness of despair. "But my task-is nearly done:; and I will inform my - readers that this' is a work of fact, not fictioi, and .my - story is true in all its essential points.- My clharactrs are not the imaginary creatures of an authors brain-; but they are livi!g, breathing, and movinig now (save one) : they are all performing- their parts n :the duties ;of life; and, if:you wish to hear more from thjem, you have only to keep watch of' current events., :When-the religious;" progresionists "held their last : : meeting in Horticultural :HaI, -Boston, HerbeWif' ; . -lard was among them. Hee stood upon the platform/- page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] i* , - . * v - -2Q6 EKATE .ALLEND:ER. with-Frothiinmg!am, Emerson, Higginson,. and many others; but none expressed their opinions with more eloquence, clearness, and truth than he did on that occasion. Should you attend their next anniversary, you wil probably have an opportunity of hearing his voice. ;- -Fori:Margaret Morrison I can prophesy success. . Her cause is":,prospering. ..With unflinching courage and determination she has, adhered to her' first principles; and- the friends:.of woman's suffrage have found in' her. a valuable co-worker, She is always with the van- guard"; and wherever you find that little, -army of strong-minded women " marching on,' there she is' to be- found in their midst. She, with others, has been besieging- Congress. this winter for the- adoption bf - '.te Sixteenth Amendment;" but congressmen were afflicted-with such very "sore throats" (?), they were tunable to make any- fine speeches in favor of woman's suffrage. ' Margaret Morrison is strong-minded (I use this not- derisively), strong-hearted, and high-soulId. Her ambition is boundless: if the high office of the Presidency of the United States is offered her, she will accept.: it, and will manage our national affairs with reason and justice. Failing of this, she will equally grace the senatorial chair or judicial bench. Margaret' has never married; and she thinks that she has escaped a world of woe in never having experi- enced any thing of te " mysterious power of love,"- ; . which she believes, has wrought such a fearful effect ' upon therdestijny of her friend. - - Shouldyoau wish to learn more from Margaret MNr- UP WIT'. THE ITMRS. '207 rison, take ",The Woman's Journal," and Ithere you ' will find articles from her pen. Wold you like to see her, or listen to her voice?. then attend the Wo- man's 'Conventions. And what shall I say of the grief-stricken widow? Such woe as hers cannot be described by my pen. The same shot that laid Arthur Richards in his grave lias prostrated her also. Whether she ever-arises from her gloom and despondency again is doubtful. It is uncertain whether we ever again hear from her pen; for it has received this time too sad an inspiration. Add not to the woes of her bleeding heart by slander and false accusations. I am happy to state that.- anny Fletcher behaved like a good, sensible girl, as regards her- matrimonial matters, and is the happy wife of honest, manly John -Callender. They had such a quiet wooin'g and wed- ding, I could make no sensation about them. There was no elopement, nor aingry papa nor angry mamma (though I believe it is' not usually-mamma,-but jipater' facmilias, that makes all the fuss) to Cause a disturbance in their love-affairs. They have never had any unu- sual family jars, as yet, to mar' their happiness-; but they have had, several little troublesome comforts, or comfortable troubles,'to add to theirjoys. These little "well-springs of pleasure " are still of a youthful and unromantic age; and I will make no further allusion to them than to state that'they pass their time .happily in eating bread'and molasses, and in the undisturbed occupation of making mud-pies.' page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] 208 KATE CALLENDER., -Hannah. Qallenderis the wife of an industrious, prosperous farmer, and is very pleasantly situated in life. "She finds her husband congenial to her taste, and j *; - his plans, interest, and happiness are her greatest con- sideration. He does not "sit all day and hold her two hands in his, and gaze into her eyes" in a disagreeable manner'; but he loves to see her making the butter, and gazes proudly uponher as she plunges her plump hands ': into the golden lump, and sprinkles over the salt; and, being of a somewhat speculative, business turn of mind, he alcdulates :atthe same time, as to the number of pounds and the price per pound. Ah! but I perceive tha it will not do for me to dwell any longer on this subject, lest I become more truthful than interesting, and mar the success of my story. And now I finish this little -book of mine, and send it to the public with a confident, hopeful feeling; be--, lieving, if it should meet with an unfavorable reception, from my reader, it will be for the reason that I have founded its details too much uponfact, and that you dis- -like the truth. -And- fr all such criticisms I have in ,i, . reserve a powerful. force,-- my vivid imagination; and the next timie you hear from me, I will, from its ex- haustless resources, have produced such a stupendous fietion, that you, most generous public, will place me at on0ce- on the pinnacle of fame. With a light heart and lighter headI bid you all adieu!
