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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of After A Shadow and Other Stories
+by T. S. Arthur
+(#6 in our series by T. S. Arthur)
+
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+Title: After A Shadow and Other Stories
+
+Author: T. S. Arthur
+
+Release Date: October, 2003  [Etext #4591]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on February 12, 2002]
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+Edition: 10
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+Language: English
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+Character set encoding: ASCII
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of After A Shadow and Other Stories
+by T. S. Arthur
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+
+AFTER A SHADOW, AND OTHER STORIES.
+
+BY T. S. ARTHUR.
+
+NEW YORK:
+
+1868
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+
+
+
+I. AFTER A SHADOW.
+II. IN THE WAY OF TEMPTATION.
+III. ANDY LOVELL.
+IV. A MYSTERY EXPLAINED.
+V. WHAT CAN I DO?
+VI. ON GUARD.
+VII. A VISIT WITH THE DOCTOR.
+VIII. HADN'T TIME FOR TROUBLE.
+IX. A GOOD NAME.
+X. LITTLE LIZZIE.
+XI. ALICE AND THE PIGEON.
+XII. DRESSED FOR A PARTY.
+XIII. COFFEE VS. BRANDY.
+XIV. AMY'S QUESTION.
+XV. AN ANGEL IN DISGUISE.
+XVI. WHICH WAS MOST THE LADY?
+XVII. OTHER PEOPLE'S EYES.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+AFTER A SHADOW,
+AND OTHER STORIES.
+
+I.
+
+AFTER A SHADOW.
+
+
+
+
+
+"ARTY! Arty!" called Mrs. Mayflower, from the window, one bright
+June morning. "Arty, darling! What is the child after? Just look at
+him, Mr. Mayflower!"
+
+I leaned from the window, in pleasant excitement, to see what new
+and wonderful performance had been attempted by my little prodigy--my
+first born--my year old bud of beauty, the folded leaves in whose
+bosom were just beginning to loosen themselves, and send out upon
+the air sweet intimations of an abounding fragrance. He had escaped
+from his nurse, and was running off in the clear sunshine, the slant
+rays of which threw a long shadow before him.
+
+"Arty, darling!" His mother's voice flew along and past his ear,
+kissing it in gentle remonstrance as it went by. But baby was in
+eager pursuit of something, and the call, if heard, was unheeded.
+His eyes were opening world-ward, and every new
+phenomenon--commonplace and unheeded by us--that addressed itself to
+his senses, became a wonder and a delight. Some new object was
+drawing him away from the loving heart and protecting arm.
+
+"Run after him, Mr. Mayflower!" said my wife, with a touch of
+anxiety in her voice. "He might fall and hurt himself."
+
+I did not require a second intimation as to my duty in the case.
+Only a moment or two elapsed before I was on the pavement, and
+making rapid approaches towards my truant boy.
+
+"What is it, darling? What is Arty running after?" I said, as I laid
+my hand on his arm, and checked his eager speed. He struggled a
+moment, and then stood still, stooping forward for something on the
+ground.
+
+"O, papa see!" There was a disappointed and puzzled look in his face
+as he lifted his eyes to mine. He failed to secure the object of his
+pursuit.
+
+"What is it, sweet?" My eyes followed his as they turned upon the
+ground.
+
+He stooped again, and caught at something; and again looked up in a
+perplexed, half-wondering way.
+
+"Why, Arty!" I exclaimed, catching him up in my arms. "It's only
+your shadow! Foolish child!" And I ran back to Mrs. Mayflower, with
+my baby-boy held close against my heart.
+
+"After a shadow!" said I, shaking my head, a little soberly, as I
+resigned Arty to his mother. "So life begins--and so it ends! Poor
+Arty!"
+
+Mrs. Mayflower laughed out right merrily.
+
+"After a shadow! Why, darling!" And she kissed and hugged him in
+overflowing tenderness.
+
+"So life begins--so it ends," I repeated to myself, as I left the
+house, and walked towards my store. "Always in pursuit of shadows!
+We lose to-day's substantial good for shadowy phantoms that keep our
+eyes ever in advance, and our feet ever hurrying forward. No
+pause--no ease--no full enjoyment of _now_. O, deluded heart!--ever
+bartering away substance for shadow!"
+
+I grow philosophic sometimes. Thought will, now and then, take up a
+passing incident, and extract the moral. But how little the wiser
+are we for moralizing! we look into the mirror of truth, and see
+ourselves--then turn away, and forget what manner of men we are.
+Better for us if it were not so; if we remembered the image that
+held our vision.
+
+The shadow lesson was forgotten by the time I reached my store, and
+thought entered into business with its usual ardor. I buried myself,
+amid letters, invoices, accounts, samples, schemes for gain, and
+calculations of profit. The regular, orderly progression of a fair
+and well-established business was too slow for my outreaching
+desires. I must drive onward at a higher speed, and reach the goal
+of wealth by a quicker way. So my daily routine was disturbed by
+impatient aspirations. Instead of entering, in a calm
+self-possession of every faculty, into the day's appropriate work,
+and finding, in its right performance, the tranquil state that ever
+comes as the reward of right-doing in the right place, I spent the
+larger part of this day in the perpetration of a plan for increasing
+my gains beyond, anything heretofore achieved.
+
+"Mr. Mayflower," said one of the clerks, coming back to where I sat
+at my private desk, busy over my plan, "we have a new man in from
+the West; a Mr. B----, from Alton. He wants to make a bill of a
+thousand dollars. Do you know anything about him?"
+
+Now, even this interruption annoyed me. What was a new customer and
+a bill of a thousand dollars to me just at that moment of time? I
+saw tens of thousands in prospective.
+
+"Mr. B----, of Alton?" said I, affecting an effort of memory. "Does he
+look like a fair man?"
+
+"I don't recall him. Mr. B----? Hum-m-m. He impresses you favorably,
+Edward?"
+
+"Yes, sir; but it may be prudent to send and get a report."
+
+"I'll see to that, Edward," said I. "Sell him what he wants. If
+everything is not on the square, I'll give you the word in time.
+It's all right, I've no doubt."
+
+"He's made a bill at Kline & Co.'s, and wants his goods sent there
+to be packed," said my clerk.
+
+"Ah, indeed! Let him have what he wants, Edward. If Kline & Co. sell
+him, we needn't hesitate."
+
+And turning to my desk, my plans, and my calculations, I forgot all
+about Mr. B----, and the trifling bill of a thousand dollars that he
+proposed buying. How clear the way looked ahead! As thought created
+the means of successful adventure, and I saw myself moving forward
+and grasping results, the whole circle of life took a quicker
+motion, and my mind rose into a pleasant enthusiasm. Then I grew
+impatient for the initiatory steps that were to come, and felt as if
+the to-morrow, in which they must be taken, would never appear. A
+day seemed like a week or a month.
+
+Six o'clock found me in not a very satisfactory state of mind. The
+ardor of my calculations had commenced abating. Certain elements,
+not seen and considered in the outset, were beginning to assume
+shape and consequence, and to modify, in many essential particulars,
+the grand result towards which I had been looking with so much
+pleasure. Shadowy and indistinct became the landscape, which seemed
+a little while before so fair and inviting. A cloud settled down
+upon it here, and a cloud there, breaking up its unity, and
+destroying much of its fair proportion. I was no longer mounting up,
+and moving forwards on the light wing of a castle-building
+imagination, but down upon the hard, rough ground, coming back into
+the consciousness that all progression, to be sure, must be slow and
+toilsome.
+
+I had the afternoon paper in my hands, and was running my eyes up
+and down the columns, not reading, but, in a half-absent way, trying
+to find something of sufficient interest to claim attention, when,
+among the money and business items, I came upon a paragraph that
+sent the declining thermometer of my feelings away down towards the
+chill of zero. It touched, in the most vital part, my scheme of
+gain; and the shrinking bubble burst.
+
+"Have the goods sold to that new customer from Alton been
+delivered?" I asked, as the real interest of my wasted day loomed up
+into sudden importance.
+
+"Yes, sir," was answered by one of my clerks; "they were sent to
+Kline & Co.'s immediately. Mr. B----said they were packing up his
+goods, which were to be shipped to-day."
+
+"He's a safe man, I should think. Kline & Co. sell him." My voice
+betrayed the doubt that came stealing over me like a chilly air.
+
+"They sell him only for cash," said my clerk. "I saw one of their
+young men this afternoon, and asked after Mr. B----'s standing. He
+didn't know anything about him; said B----was a new man, who bought a
+moderate cash bill, but was sending in large quantities of goods to
+be packed--five or six times beyond the amount of his purchases with
+them."
+
+"Is that so!" I exclaimed, rising to my feet, all awake now to the
+real things which I had permitted a shadow to obscure.
+
+"Just what he told me," answered my clerk.
+
+"It has a bad look," said I. "How large a bill did he make with us?"
+
+The sales book was referred to. "Seventeen hundred dollars," replied
+the clerk.
+
+"What! I thought he was to buy only to the amount of a thousand
+dollars?" I returned, in surprise and dismay.
+
+"You seemed so easy about him, sir," replied the clerk, "that I
+encouraged him to buy; and the bill ran up more heavily than I was
+aware until the footing gave exact figures."
+
+I drew out my watch. It was close on to half past six.
+
+"I think, Edward," said I, "that you'd better step round to Kline &
+Co.'s, and ask if they've shipped B----'s goods yet. If not, we'll
+request them to delay long enough in the morning to give us time to
+sift the matter. If B----'s after a swindling game, we'll take a short
+course, and save our goods."
+
+"It's too late," answered my clerk. "B----called a little after one
+o'clock, and gave notes for the amount of his bill. He was to leave
+in the five o'clock line for Boston."
+
+I turned my face a little aside, so that Edward might not see all
+the anxiety that was pictured there.
+
+"You look very sober, Mr. Mayflower," said my good wife, gazing at
+me with eyes a little shaded by concern, as I sat with Arty's head
+leaning against my bosom that evening; "as sober as baby looked this
+morning, after his fruitless shadow chase."
+
+"And for the same reason," said I, endeavoring to speak calmly and
+firmly.
+
+"Why, Mr. Mayflower!" Her face betrayed a rising anxiety. My assumed
+calmness and firmness did not wholly disguise the troubled feelings
+that lay, oppressively, about my heart.
+
+"For the same reason," I repeated, steadying my voice, and trying to
+speak bravely. "I have been chasing a shadow all day; a mere phantom
+scheme of profit; and at night-fall I not only lose my shadow, but
+find my feet far off from the right path, and bemired. I called Arty
+a foolish child this morning. I laughed at his mistake. But, instead
+of accepting the lesson it should have conveyed, I went forth and
+wearied myself with shadow-hunting all day."
+
+Mrs. Mayflower sighed gently. Her soft eyes drooped away from my
+face, and rested for some moments on the floor.
+
+"I am afraid we are all, more or less, in pursuit of shadows," she
+said,--"of the unreal things, projected by thought on the canvas of a
+too creative imagination. It is so with me; and I sigh, daily, over
+some disappointment. Alas! if this were all. Too often both the
+shadow-good and the real-good of to-day are lost. When night falls
+our phantom good is dispersed, and we sigh for the real good we
+might have enjoyed."
+
+"Shall we never grow wiser?" I asked.
+
+"We shall never grow happier unless we do," answered Mrs. Mayflower.
+
+"Happiness!" I returned, as thought began to rise into clearer
+perception; "is it not the shadow after which we are all chasing,
+with such a blind and headlong speed?"
+
+"Happiness is no shadow. It is a real thing," said Mrs. Mayflower.
+"It does not project itself in advance of us; but exists in the
+actual and the now, if it exists at all. We cannot catch it by
+pursuit; that is only a cheating counterfeit, in guilt and tinsel,
+which dazzles our eyes in the ever receding future. No; happiness is
+a state of life; and it comes only to those who do each day's work
+peaceful self-forgetfulness, and a calm trust in the Giver of all
+good for the blessing that lies stored for each one prepared to
+receive it in every hour of the coming time."
+
+"Who so does each day's work in a peaceful self-forgetfulness and
+patient trust in God?" I said, turning my eyes away from the now
+tranquil face of Mrs. Mayflower.
+
+"Few, if any, I fear," she answered; "and few, if any, are happy.
+The common duties and common things of our to-days look so plain and
+homely in their ungilded actualities, that we turn our thought and
+interest away from them, and create ideal forms of use and beauty,
+into which we can never enter with conscious life. We are always
+losing the happiness of our to-days; and our to-morrows never come."
+
+I sighed my response, and sat for a long time silent. When the tea
+bell interrupted me from my reverie, Arty lay fast asleep on my
+bosom. As I kissed him on his way to his mother's arms, I said,--
+
+"Dear baby! may it be your first and last pursuit of a shadow."
+
+"No--no! Not yet, my sweet one!" answered Mrs. Mayflower, hugging him
+to her heart. "Not yet. We cannot spare you from our world of
+shadows."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+IN THE WAY OF TEMPTATION.
+
+
+
+
+
+MARTIN GREEN was a young man of good habits and a good conceit of
+himself. He had listened, often and again, with as much patience as
+he could assume, to warning and suggestion touching the dangers that
+beset the feet of those who go out into this wicked world, and
+become subject to its legion of temptations. All these warnings and
+suggestions he considered as so many words wasted when offered to
+himself.
+
+"I'm in no danger," he would sometimes answer to relative or friend,
+who ventured a remonstrance against certain associations, or
+cautioned him about visiting certain places.
+
+"If I wish to play a game of billiards, I will go to a billiard
+saloon," was the firm position he assumed. "Is there any harm in
+billiards? I can't help it if bad men play at billiards, and
+congregate in billiard saloons. Bad men may be found anywhere and
+everywhere; on the street, in stores, at all public places, even in
+church. Shall I stay away from church because bad men are there?"
+
+This last argument Martin Green considered unanswerable. Then he
+would say,--
+
+"If I want a plate of oysters, I'll go to a refectory, and I'll take
+a glass of ale with my oysters, if it so pleases me. What harm, I
+would like to know? Danger of getting into bad company, you say?
+Hum-m! Complimentary to your humble servant! But I'm not the kind to
+which dirt sticks."
+
+So, confident of his own power to stand safely in the midst of
+temptation, and ignorant of its thousand insidious approaches,
+Martin Green, at the age of twenty-one, came and went as he pleased,
+mingling with the evil and the good, and seeing life under
+circumstances of great danger to the pure and innocent. But he felt
+strong and safe, confident of neither stumbling nor falling. All
+around him he saw young men yielding to the pressure of temptation
+and stepping aside into evil ways; but they were weak and vicious,
+while he stood firm-footed on the rock of virtue!
+
+It happened, very naturally, as Green was a bright, social young
+man, that he made acquaintances with other young men, who were
+frequently met in billiard saloons, theatre lobbies, and eating
+houses. Some of these he did not understand quite as well as he
+imagined. The vicious, who have ends to gain, know how to cloak
+themselves, and easily deceive persons of Green's character. Among,
+these acquaintances was a handsome, gentlemanly, affable young man,
+named Bland, who gradually intruded himself into his confidence.
+Bland never drank to excess, and never seemed inclined to sensual
+indulgences. He had, moreover, a way of moralizing that completely
+veiled his true quality from the not very penetrating Martin Green,
+whose shrewdness and knowledge of character were far less acute than
+he, in his self-conceit, imagined.
+
+One evening, instead of going with his sister to the house of a
+friend, where a select company of highly-intelligent ladies and
+gentleman were to meet, and pass an evening together, Martin excused
+himself under the pretence of an engagement, and lounged away to an
+eating and drinking saloon, there to spend an hour in smoking,
+reading the newspapers, and enjoying a glass of ale, the desire for
+which was fast growing into a habit. Strong and safe as he imagined
+himself, the very fact of preferring the atmosphere of a drinking or
+billiard saloon to that in which refined and intellectual people
+breathe, showed that he was weak and in danger.
+
+He was sitting with a cigar in his mouth, and a glass of ale beside
+him, reading with the air of a man who felt entirely satisfied with
+himself, and rather proud than ashamed of his position and
+surroundings, when his pleasant friend, Mr. Bland, crossed the room,
+and, reaching out his hand, said, with his smiling, hearty manner,--
+
+"How are you, my friend? What's the news to-day?" And he drew a
+chair to the table, calling at the same time to a waiter for a glass
+of ale.
+
+"I never drink anything stronger than ale," he added, in a
+confidential way, not waiting for Green to answer his first remark.
+"Liquors are so drugged nowadays, that you never know what poison
+you are taking; besides, tippling is a bad habit, and sets a
+questionable example. We must, you know, have some regard to the
+effect of our conduct on weaker people. Man is an imitative animal.
+By the way, did you see Booth's Cardinal Wolsey?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"A splendid piece of acting,--was it not? You remember, after the
+cardinal's fall, that noble passage to which he gives utterance. It
+has been running through my mind ever since:--"'Mark but my fall,
+and that that ruined me.
+
+Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition:
+
+By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then,
+
+The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?
+
+Love thyself last: Cherish those hearts that hate thee:
+
+Corruption wins not more than honesty.
+
+Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
+
+To silence envious tongues; be just, and fear not.
+
+Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,
+
+Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell,
+
+Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.'
+
+"'Love thyself last.--Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy
+country's, thy God's, and truth's.' Could a man's whole duty in life
+be expressed in fewer words, or said more grandly? I think not."
+
+And so he went on, charming the ears of Green, and inspiring him
+with the belief that he was a person of the purest instincts and
+noblest ends. While they talked, two young men, strangers to Green
+came up, and were introduced by Bland as "My very particular
+friends." Something about them did not at first impress Martin
+favorably. But this impression soon wore off, they were so
+intelligent and agreeable, Bland, after a little while, referred
+again to the Cardinal Wolsey of Booth, and, drawing a copy of
+Shakspeare's Henry VIII. from his pocket, remarked,--
+
+"If it wasn't so public here, I'd like to read a few of the best
+passages in Wolsey's part."
+
+"Can't we get a private room?" said one of the two young men who had
+joined Bland and Green. "There are plenty in the house. I'll see."
+
+And away he went to the bar.
+
+"Come," he said, returning in a few minutes; and the party followed
+a waiter up stairs, and were shown into a small room, neatly
+furnished, though smelling villanously of stale cigar smoke.
+
+"This is cosy," was the approving remark of Bland, as they entered.
+Hats and overcoats were laid aside, and they drew around a table
+that stood in the centre of the room under the gaslight. A few
+passages were read from Shakspeare, then drink was ordered by one of
+the the party. The reading interspersed with critical comments, was
+again resumed; but the reading soon gave way entire to the comments,
+which, in a little while, passed from the text of Shakspeare to
+actors, actresses, prima donnas, and ballet-dancers, the relative
+merits of which were knowingly discussed for some time. In the midst
+of this discussion, oysters, in two or three styles, and a smoking
+dish of terrapin, ordered by a member of the company--which our young
+friend Green did not know--were brought in, followed by a liberal
+supply of wine and brandy. Bland expressed surprise, but accepted
+the entertainment as quite agreeable to himself.
+
+After the supper, cigars were introduced, and after the cigars,
+cards. A few games were played for shilling stakes. Green, under the
+influence of more liquor than his head could bear, and in the midst
+of companions whose sphere he could not, in consequence, resist,
+yielded in a new direction for him. Of gambling he had always
+entertained a virtuous disapproval; yet, ere aware of the direction
+in which he was drifting, he was staking money at cards, the sums
+gradually increasing, until from shillings the ventures increased to
+dollars. Sometimes he won, and sometimes he lost; the winnings
+stimulating to new trials in the hope of further success, and the
+losses stimulating to new trials in order to recover, if possible;
+but, steadily, the tide, for all these little eddies of success,
+bore him downwards, and losses increased from single dollars to
+fives, and from fives to tens, his pleasant friend, Bland, supplying
+whatever he wanted in the most disinterested way, until an aggregate
+loss of nearly a hundred and fifty dollars sobered and appalled him.
+
+The salary of Martin Green was only four hundred dollars, every cent
+of which was expended as fast as earned. A loss of a hundred and
+fifty dollars was, therefore, a serious and embarrassing matter.
+
+"I'll call and see you to-morrow, when we can arrange this little
+matter," said Mr. Bland, "on parting with Green at his own door. He
+spoke pleasantly, but with something in his voice that chilled the
+nerves of his victim. On the next day while Green stood at his desk,
+trying to fix his mind upon his work, and do it correctly, his
+employer said,--
+
+"Martin, there's a young man in the store who has asked for you."
+
+Green turned and saw the last man on the earth he desired to meet.
+His pleasant friend of the evening before had called to "arrange
+that little matter."
+
+"Not too soon for you, I hope," remarked Bland, with his courteous,
+yet now serious, smile, as he took the victim's hand.
+
+"Yes, you _are_, too soon," was soberly answered.
+
+The smile faded off of Bland's face.
+
+"When will you arrange it?"
+
+"In a few days."
+
+"But I want the money to-day. It was a simple loan, you know."
+
+"I am aware of that, but the amount is larger than I can manage at
+once," said Green.
+
+"Can I have a part to-day?"
+
+"Not to-day."
+
+"To-morrow, then?"
+
+"I'll do the best in my power."
+
+"Very well. To-morrow, at this time, I will call. Make up the whole
+sum if possible, for I want it badly."
+
+"Do you know that young man?" asked Mr. Phillips, the employer of
+Green, as the latter came back to his desk. The face of Mr. Phillips
+was unusually serious.
+
+"His name is Bland."
+
+"Why has he called to see you?" The eyes of Mr. Phillips were fixed
+intently on his clerk.
+
+"He merely dropped in. I have met him a few times in company."
+
+"Don't you know his character?"
+
+"I never heard a word against him," said Green.
+
+"Why, Martin!" replied Mr. Phillips, "he has the reputation of being
+one of the worst young men in our city; a base gambler's
+stool-pigeon, some say."
+
+"I am glad to know it, sir," Martin had the presence of mind, in the
+painful confusion that overwhelmed him, to say, "and shall treat him
+accordingly." He went back to his desk, and resumed his work.
+
+It is the easiest thing in the world to go to astray, but always
+difficult to return, Martin Green was astray, but how was he to get
+into the right path again? A barrier that seemed impassable was now
+lying across the way over which he had passed, a little while
+before, with lightest footsteps. Alone and unaided, he could not
+safely get back. The evil spirits that lure a man from virtue never
+counsel aright when to seek to return. They magnify the perils that
+beset the road by which alone is safety, and suggest other ways that
+lead into labyrinths of evil from which escape is sometimes
+impossible. These spirits were now at the ear of our unhappy young
+friend, suggesting methods of relief in his embarrassing position.
+
+If Bland were indeed such a character as Mr. Phillips had
+represented him, it would be ruin, in his employer's estimation, to
+have him call again and again for his debt. But how was he to
+liquidate that debt? There was nothing due him on account of salary,
+and there was not a friend or acquaintance to whom he could apply
+with any hope of borrowing.
+
+"Man's extremity is the devil's opportunity." It was so in the
+present case, Green had a number of collections to make on that day,
+and his evil counsellors suggested his holding back the return of
+two of these, amounting to his indebtedness, and say that the
+parties were not yet ready to settle their bills. This would enable
+him to get rid of Bland, and gain time. So, acting upon the bad
+suggestion, he made up his return of collections, omitting the two
+accounts to which we have referred.
+
+Now it so happened that one of the persons against whom these
+accounts stood, met Mr. Phillips as he was returning from dinner in
+the afternoon, and said to him,--
+
+"I settled that bill of yours to-day."
+
+"That's right. I wish all my customers were as punctual," answered
+Mr. Phillips.
+
+"I gave your young man a check for a hundred and five dollars."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+And the two men passed their respective ways.
+
+On Mr. Phillips's return to his store, Martin rendered his account
+of collections, and, to the surprise of his employer, omitted the
+one in regard to which he had just been notified.
+
+"Is this all?" he asked, in a tone that sent a thrill of alarm to
+the guilty heart of his clerk.
+
+"Yes, sir," was the not clearly outspoken answer.
+
+"Didn't Garland pay?"
+
+"N-n-o, sir!" The suddenness of this question so confounded Martin,
+that he could not answer without a betraying hesitation.
+
+"Martin!" Astonishment, rebuke, and accusation were in the voice of
+Mr. Phillips as he pronounced his clerk's name. Martin's face
+flushed deeply, and then grew very pale. He stood the image of guilt
+and fear for some moments, then, drawing out his pocket book, he
+brought therefrom a small roll of bank bills, and a memorandum slip
+of paper.
+
+"I made these collections also." And he gave the money and
+memorandum to Mr. Phillips.
+
+"A hundred and fifty dollars withheld! Martin! Martin! what _does_
+this mean?"
+
+"Heaven is my witness, sir," answered the young man, with quivering
+lips, "that I have never wronged you out of a dollar, and had no
+intention of wronging you now. But I am in a fearful strait. My feet
+have become suddenly mired, and this was a desperate struggle for
+extrication--a temporary expedient only, not a premeditated wrong
+against you."
+
+"Sit down, Martin," said Mr. Phillips, in a grave, but not severe,
+tone of voice. "Let me understand the case from first to last.
+Conceal nothing, if you wish to have me for a friend."
+
+Thus enjoined, Martin told his humiliating story.
+
+"If you had not gone into the way of temptation, the betrayer had
+not found you," was the remark of Mr. Phillips, when the young man
+ended his confession. "Do you frequent these eating and drinking
+saloons?"
+
+"I go occasionally, sir."
+
+"They are neither safe nor reputable, Martin. A young man who
+frequents them must have the fine tone of his manhood dimmed. There
+is an atmosphere of impurity about these places. Have you a younger
+brother?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Would you think it good for him, as he emerged from youth to
+manhood, to visit refectories and billiard saloons?"
+
+"No, sir, I would do all in my power to prevent it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"There's danger in them, sir."
+
+"And, knowing this, you went into the way of danger, and have
+fallen!"
+
+Martin dropped his eyes to the floor in confusion.
+
+"Bland is a stool-pigeon and you were betrayed."
+
+"What am I to do?" asked the troubled young man. "I am in debt to
+him."
+
+"He will be here to-morrow."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"I will have a policeman ready to receive him."
+
+"O, no, no, Sir. Pray don't do that!" answered Martin, with a
+distressed look.
+
+"Why not?" demanded Mr. Phillips.
+
+"It will ruin me."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Bland will denounce me."
+
+"Let him."
+
+"I shall be exposed to the policeman."
+
+"An evil, but a mild one, compared with that to which you were
+rushing in order to disentangle yourself. I must have my way, sir.
+This matter has assumed a serious aspect. You are in my power, and
+must submit."
+
+On the next day, punctual to the hour, Bland called.
+
+"This is your man," said Mr. Phillips to his clerk. "Ask him into
+the counting-room." Bland, thus invited, walked back. As he entered,
+Mr. Phillips said,--
+
+"My clerk owes you a hundred and fifty dollars, I understand."
+
+"Yes, sir;" and the villain bowed.
+
+"Make him out a receipt," said Mr. Phillips.
+
+"When I receive the money," was coldly and resolutely answered.
+Martin glanced sideways at the face of Bland, and the sudden change
+in its expression chilled him. The mild, pleasant, virtuous aspect
+he could so well assume was gone, and he looked more like a fiend
+than a man. In pictures he had seen eyes such as now gleamed on Mr.
+Phillips, but never in a living face before.
+
+The officer, who had been sitting with a newspaper in his hand, now
+gave his paper a quick rattle as he threw it aside, and, coming
+forward, stood beside Mr. Phillips, and looked steadily at the face
+of Bland, over which passed another change: it was less assured, but
+not less malignant.
+
+Mr. Phillips took out his pocket-book, and, laying a twenty-dollar
+bill on the desk by which they were standing, said,--
+
+"Take this and sign a receipt."
+
+"No, sir!" was given with determined emphasis. "I am not to be
+robbed in this way!"
+
+"Ned," the officer now spoke, "take my advice, and sign a receipt."
+
+"It's a cursed swindle!" exclaimed the baffled villain.
+
+"We will dispense with hard names, sir!" The officer addressed him
+sternly. "Either take the money, or go. This is not a meeting for
+parley. I understand you and your operations."
+
+A few moments Bland stood, with an irresolute air; then, clutching
+desperately at a pen, he dashed off a receipt, and was reaching for
+the money, when Mr. Phillips drew it back, saying,--
+
+"Wait a moment, until I examine the receipt." He read it over, and
+then, pushing it towards Bland, said,--
+
+"Write 'In full of all demands.'" A growl was the oral response.
+Bland took the pen again, and wrote as directed.
+
+"Take my advice, young man, and adopt a safer and more honorable
+business," said Mr. Phillips, as he gave him the twenty-dollar bill.
+
+"Keep your advice for them that ask it!" was flung back in his face.
+A look of hate and revenge burned in the fellow's eyes. After
+glaring at Mr. Phillips and Martin in a threatening way for several
+moments, he left more hurriedly than he had entered.
+
+"And take my advice," said the officer, laying his hand on Martin's
+arm,--he spoke in a warning tone,--"and keep out of that man's way.
+He'll never forgive you. I know him and his prowling gang, and they
+are a set of as hardened and dangerous villains as can be found in
+the city. You are 'spotted' by them from this day, and they number a
+dozen at least. So, if you would be safe, avoid their haunts. Give
+drinking saloons and billiard rooms a wide berth. One experience
+like this should last you a life-time."
+
+Thus Martin escaped from his dangerous entanglement, but never again
+to hold the unwavering confidence of his employer. Mr. Phillips
+pitied, but could not trust him fully. A year afterwards came
+troublesome times, losses in business, and depression in trade.
+Every man had to retrench. Thousands of clerks lost their places,
+and anxiety and distress were on every hand. Mr. Phillips, like
+others, had to reduce expenses, and, in reducing, the lot to go fell
+upon Martin Green. He had been very circumspect, had kept away from
+the old places where danger lurked, had devoted himself with renewed
+assiduity to his employer's interests; but, for all this, doubts
+were forever arising in the mind of Mr. Phillips, and when the
+question, "Who shall go?" came up, the decision was against Martin.
+We pity him, but cannot blame his employer.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+ANDY LOVELL.
+
+
+
+
+
+ALL the village was getting out with Andy Lovell, the shoemaker; and
+yet Andy Lovell's shoes fitted so neatly, and wore so long, that the
+village people could ill afford to break with him. The work made by
+Tompkins was strong enough, but Tompkins was no artist in leather.
+Lyon's fit was good, and his shoes neat in appearance, but they had
+no wear in them. So Andy Lovell had the run of work, and in a few
+years laid by enough to make him feel independent. Now this feeling
+of independence is differently based with different men. Some must
+have hundreds of thousands of dollars for it to rest upon, while
+others find tens of thousands sufficient. A few drop below the tens,
+and count by units. Of this last number was Andy Lovell, the
+shoemaker.
+
+When Andy opened his shop and set up business for himself, he was
+twenty-four years of age. Previous to that time he had worked as
+journeyman, earning good wages, and spending as fast as he earned,
+for he had no particular love of money, nor was he ambitious to rise
+and make an appearance in the world. But it happened with Andy as
+with most young men he fell in love; and as the village beauty was
+compliant, betrothal followed. From this time he was changed in many
+things, but most of all in his regard for money. From a free-handed
+young man, he became prudent and saving, and in a single year laid
+by enough to warrant setting up business for himself. The wedding
+followed soon after.
+
+The possession of a wife and children gives to most men broader
+views of life. They look with more earnestness into the future, and
+calculate more narrowly the chances of success. In the ten years
+that followed Andy Lovell's marriage no one could have given more
+attention to business, or devoted more thought and care to the
+pleasure of customers. He was ambitious to lay up money for his
+wife's and children's sake, as well as to secure for himself the
+means of rest from labor in his more advancing years. The
+consequence was, that Andy served his neighbors, in his vocation, to
+their highest satisfaction. He was useful, contented, and thrifty.
+
+A sad thing happened to Andy and his wife after this. Scarlet fever
+raged in the village one winter, sweeping many little ones into the
+grave. Of their three children, two were taken; and the third was
+spared, only to droop, like a frost-touched plant, and die ere the
+summer came. From that time, all of Andy Lovell's customers noted a
+change in the man; and no wonder. Andy had loved these children
+deeply. His thought had all the while been running into the future,
+and building castles for them to dwell in. Now the future was as
+nothing to him; and so his heart beat feebly in the present. He had
+already accumulated enough for himself and his wife to live on for
+the rest of their days; and, if no more children came, what motive
+was there for a man of his views and temperament to devote himself,
+with the old ardor, to business?
+
+So the change noticed by his customers continued. He was less
+anxious to accommodate; disappointed them oftener; and grew
+impatient under complaint or remonstrance. Customers, getting
+discouraged or offended, dropped away, but it gave Andy no concern.
+He had, no longer, any heart in his business; and worked in it more
+like an automaton than a live human being.
+
+At last, Andy suddenly made up his mind to shut up his shop, and
+retire from business. He had saved enough to live on--why should he
+go on any longer in this halting, miserable way--a public servant,
+yet pleasing nobody?
+
+Mrs. Lovell hardly knew what to say in answer to her husband's
+suddenly formed resolution. It was as he alleged; they had laid up
+sufficient; to make them comfortable for the rest of their lives;
+and, sure enough, why should Andy worry himself any longer with the
+shop? As far as her poor reason went, Mrs. Lovell had nothing to
+oppose; but all her instincts were on the other side--she could not
+feel that it would be right.
+
+But Andy, when he made up his mind to a thing, was what people call
+hard-headed. His "I won't stand it any longer," meant more than this
+common form of speech on the lips of ordinary men. So he gave it out
+that he should quit business; and it was soon all over the village.
+Of course Tompkins and Lyon were well enough pleased, but there were
+a great many who heard of the shoemaker's determination with regret.
+In the face of all difficulties and annoyances, they had continued
+to depend on him for foot garniture, and were now haunted by
+unpleasant images of cramped toes, corns, bunyons, and all the
+varied ill attendant on badly made and badly fitting shoes, boots,
+and gaiters. The retirement of Andy, cross and unaccommodating as he
+had become, was felt, in many homes, to be a public calamity.
+
+"Don't think of such a thing, Mr. Lovell," said one.
+
+"We can't do without you," asserted another.
+
+"You'll not give up altogether," pleaded a third, almost coaxingly.
+
+But Andy Lovell was tired of working without any heart in his work;
+and more tired of the constant fret and worry attendant upon a
+business in which his mind had ceased to feel interest. So he kept
+to his resolution, and went on with his arrangements for closing the
+shop.
+
+"What are you going to do?" asked a neighbor.
+
+"Do?" Andy looked, in some surprise, at his interrogator.
+
+"Yes. What are you going to do? A man in good health, at your time
+of life, can't be idle. Rust will eat him up."
+
+"Rust?" Andy looked slightly bewildered.
+
+"What's this?" asked the neighbor, taking something from Andy's
+counter.
+
+"An old knife," was the reply. "It dropped out of the window two or
+three months ago and was lost. I picked it up this morning."
+
+"It's in a sorry condition," said the neighbor. "Half eaten up with
+rust, and good for nothing."
+
+"And yet," replied the shoemaker, "there was better stuff in that
+knife, before it was lost, than in any other knife in the shop."
+
+"Better than in this?" And the neighbor lifted a clean, sharp-edged
+knife from Andy's cutting-board.
+
+"Worth two of it."
+
+"Which knife is oldest?" asked the neighbor.
+
+"I bought them at the same time."
+
+"And this has been in constant use?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"While the other lay idle, and exposed to the rains and dews?"
+
+"And so has become rusted and good for nothing. Andy, my friend,
+just so rusted, and good for nothing as a man, are you in danger of
+becoming. Don't quit business; don't fall out of your place; don't
+pass from useful work into self-corroding idleness, You'll be
+miserable--miserable."
+
+The pertinence of this illustration struck the mind of Andy Lovell,
+and set him to thinking; and the more he thought, the more disturbed
+became his mental state. He had, as we have see, no longer any heart
+in his business. All that he desired was obtained--enough to live on
+comfortably; why, then, should he trouble himself with
+hard-to-please and ill-natured customers? This was one side of the
+question.
+
+The rusty knife suggested the other side. So there was conflict in
+his mind; but only a disturbing conflict. Reason acted too feebly on
+the side of these new-coming convictions. A desire to be at once,
+and to escape daily work and daily troubles, was stronger than any
+cold judgement of the case.
+
+"I'll find something to do," he said, within himself, and so pushed
+aside unpleasantly intruding thoughts. But Mrs. Lovell did not fail
+to observe, that since, her husband's determination to go out of
+business, he had become more irritable than before, and less at ease
+in every way.
+
+The closing day came at last. Andy Lovell shut the blinds before the
+windows of his shop, at night-fall, saying, as he did so, but in a
+half-hearted, depressed kind of a way, "For the last time;" and then
+going inside, sat down in front of the counter, feeling strangely
+and ill at ease. The future looked very blank. There was nothing in
+it to strive for, to hope for, to live for. Andy was no philosopher.
+He could not reason from any deep knowledge of human nature. His
+life had been merely sensational, touching scarcely the confines of
+interior thought. Now he felt that he was getting adrift, but could
+not understand the why and the wherefore.
+
+As the twilight deepened, his mental obscurity deepened also. He was
+still sitting in front of his counter, when a form darkened his open
+door. It was the postman, with a letter for Andy's wife. Then he
+closed the door, saying in his thought, as he had said when closing
+the shutters, "For the last time," and went back into the house with
+the letter in his hand. It was sealed with black. Mrs. Lovell looked
+frightened as she noticed this sign of death. The contents were soon
+known. An only sister, a widow, had died suddenly, and this letter
+announced the fact. She left three young children, two girls and a
+boy. These, the letter stated, had been dispensed among the late
+husband's relatives; and there was a sentence or two expressing a
+regret that they should be separated from each other.
+
+Mrs. Lovell was deeply afflicted by this news, and abandoned
+herself, for a while, to excessive grief. Her husband had no
+consolation to offer, and so remained, for the evening, silent and
+thoughtful. Andy Lovell did not sleep well that night. Certain
+things were suggested to his mind, and dwelt upon, in spite of many
+efforts to thrust them aside. Mrs. Lovell was wakeful also, as was
+evident to her husband from her occasional sighs, sobs, and restless
+movements; but no words passed between them. Both rose earlier than
+usual.
+
+Had Andy Lovell forgotten that he opened his shop door, and put back
+the shutters, as usual? Was this mere habit-work, to be corrected
+when he bethought himself of what he had done? Judging from his
+sober face and deliberate manner--no. His air was not that of a man
+acting unconsciously.
+
+Absorbed in her grief, and troubled with thoughts of her sister's
+oprhaned children, Mrs. Lovell did not, at first, regard the opening
+of her husband's shop as anything unusual. But, the truth flashing
+across her mind, she went in where Lovell stood at his old place by
+the cutting-board, on which was laid a side of morocco, and said,--
+
+"Why, Andy! I thought you had shut up the shop for good and all."
+
+"I thought so last night, but I've changed my mind," was the
+low-spoken but decided answer.
+
+"Changed your mind! Why?"
+
+"I don't know what you may think about it, Sally; but my mind's made
+up." And Andy squared round, and looked steadily into his wife's
+face. "There's just one thing we've got to do; and it's no use
+trying to run away from it. That letter didn't come for nothing. The
+fact is, Sally, them children mustn't be separated. I've been
+thinking about it all night, and it hurts me dreadfully."
+
+"How can we help it? Mary's dead, and her husband's relations have
+divided the children round. I've no doubt they will be well cared
+for," said Mrs. Lovell.
+
+She had been thinking as well as her husband, but not to so clear a
+result. To bring three little children into her quiet home, and
+accept years of care, of work, of anxiety, and responsibility, was
+not a thing to be done on light consideration. She had turned from
+the thought as soon as presented, and pushed it away from every
+avenue through which it sought to find entrance. So she had passed
+the wakeful night, trying to convince herself that her dead sister's
+children would be happy and well cared for.
+
+"If they are here, Sally, we can be certain that they are well cared
+for," replied Andy.
+
+"O, dear! I can never undertake the management of three children!"
+said Mrs. Lovell, her countenance expressing the painful reluctance
+she felt.
+
+Andy turned partly away from his wife, and bent over the
+cutting-board. She saw, as he did so, an expression of countenance
+that rebuked her.
+
+"A matter like this should be well considered," remarked Mrs.
+Lovell.
+
+"That's true," answered her husband. "So take your time. They're
+your flesh and blood, you know, and if they come here, you'll have
+the largest share of trouble with them."
+
+Mrs. Lovell went back into the house to think alone, while Andy
+commenced cutting out work, his hands moving with the springs of a
+readier will than had acted through them for a long time.
+
+It took Mrs. Lovell three or four days to make up her mind to send
+for the children, but the right decision came at last. All this
+while Andy was busy in his shop--cheerfully at work, and treating the
+customers, who, hearing that he had changed his mind, were pressing
+in upon him with their orders, much after the pleasant fashion in
+which he had treated them in years gone by. He knew that his wife
+would send for the children; and after their arrival, he knew that
+he would have increased expenses. So, there had come a spur to
+action, quickening the blood in his veins; and he was at work once
+more, with heart and purpose, a happier man, really, than he had
+been for years.
+
+Two or three weeks passed, and then the long silent dwelling of Andy
+Lovell was filled with the voices of children. Two or three years
+have passed since then. How is it with Andy? There is not a more
+cheerful man in all the village, though he is in his shop early and
+late. No more complaints from customers. Every one is promptly and
+cheerfully served. He has the largest run of work, as of old; and
+his income is sufficient not only to meet increased expenses, but to
+leave a surplus at the end of every year. He is the bright, sharp
+knife, always in use; not the idle blade, which had so narrowly
+escaped, falling from the window, rusting to utter worthlessness in
+the dew and rain.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+IV.
+
+A MYSTERY EXPLAINED.
+
+
+
+
+
+"GOING to the Falls and to the White Mountains!"
+
+"Yes, I'm off next week."
+
+"How long will you be absent?"
+
+"From ten days to two weeks."
+
+"What will it cost?"
+
+"I shall take a hundred dollars in my pocket-book! That will carry
+me through."
+
+"A hundred dollars! Where did you raise that sum? Who's the lender?
+Tell him he can have another customer."
+
+"I never borrow."
+
+"Indeed! Then you've had a legacy."
+
+"No, and never expect to have one. All my relations are poor."
+
+"Then unravel the mystery. Say where the hundred dollars came from."
+
+"The answer is easy. I saved it from my salary."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I saved it during the last six months for just this purpose, and
+now I am to have two weeks of pleasure and profit combined."
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+"I have given you the fact."
+
+"What is your salary, pray?"
+
+"Six hundred a year."
+
+"So I thought. But you don't mean to say that in six months you have
+saved one hundred dollars out of three hundred?"
+
+"Yes; that is just what I mean to say."
+
+"Preposterous. I get six hundred, and am in debt."
+
+"No wonder."
+
+"Why no wonder?"
+
+"If a man spends more than he receives, he will fall in debt."
+
+"Of course he will. But on a salary of six hundred, how is it
+possible for a man to keep out of debt?"
+
+"By spending less than he receives."
+
+"That is easily said."
+
+"And as easily done. All that is wanted is prudent forethought,
+integrity of purpose, and self-denial. He must take care of the
+pennies, and the pounds will take care of themselves."
+
+"Trite and obsolete."
+
+"True if trite; and never obsolete. It is as good doctrine to-day as
+it was in poor Richard's time. Of that I can bear witness."
+
+"I could never be a miser or a skinflint."
+
+"Nor I. But I can refuse to waste my money in unconsidered trifles,
+and so keep it for more important things; for a trip to Niagara and
+the White Mountains, for instance."
+
+The two young men who thus talked were clerks, each receiving the
+salary already mentioned--six hundred dollars. One of them, named
+Hamilton, understood the use of money; the other, named Hoffman,
+practised the abuse of this important article. The consequence was,
+that while Hamilton had a hundred dollars saved for a trip during
+his summer vacation, Hoffman was in debt for more than two or three
+times that amount.
+
+The incredulous surprise expressed by Hoffman was sincere. He could
+not understand the strange fact which had been announced. For an
+instant it crossed his mind that Hamilton might only have advanced
+his seeming impossible economy as a cover to dishonest practices.
+But he pushed the thought away as wrong.
+
+"Not much room for waste of money on a salary of six hundred a
+year," answered Hoffman.
+
+"There is always room for waste," said Hamilton. "A leak is a leak,
+be it ever so small. The quart flagon will as surely waste its
+precious contents through a fracture that loses only a drop at a
+time, as the butt from which a constant stream is pouring. The fact
+is, as things are in our day, whether flagon or butt, leakage is the
+rule not the exception."
+
+"I should like to know where the leak in my flagon is to be found,"
+said Hoffman. "I think it would puzzle a finance committee to
+discover it."
+
+"Shall I unravel for you the mystery?"
+
+"You unravel it! What do you know of my affairs?"
+
+"I have eyes."
+
+"Do I waste my money?"
+
+"Yes, if you have not saved as much as I have during the last six
+months; and yes, if my eyes have given a true report."
+
+"What have your eyes reported?"
+
+"A system of waste, in trifles, that does not add anything
+substantial to your happiness and certainly lays the foundation for
+a vast amount of disquietude, and almost certain embarrassment in
+money affairs, and consequent humiliations."
+
+Hoffman shook his head gravely answering, "I can't see it."
+
+"Would you like to see it?"
+
+"O, certainly, if it exists."
+
+"Well, suppose we go down into the matter of expenditures, item by
+item, and make some use of the common rules of arithmetic as we go
+along. Your salary, to start with, is six hundred dollars, and you
+play the same as I do for boarding and washing, that is, four and a
+half dollars per week, which gives the sum of two hundred and
+thirty-four dollars a year. What do your clothes cost?"
+
+"A hundred and fifty dollars will cover everything!"
+
+"Then you have two hundred and sixteen dollars left. What becomes of
+that large sum?"
+
+Hoffman dropped his eyes and went to thinking. Yes, what had become
+of these two hundred and sixteen dollars? Here was the whole thing
+in a nutshell.
+
+"Cigars," said Hamilton. "How many do you use in a day?"
+
+"Not over three. But these are a part of considered expenses. I am
+not going to do without cigars."
+
+"I am only getting down to the items," answered the friend. "We must
+find out where the money goes. Three cigars a day, and, on an
+average, one to a friend, which makes four."
+
+"Very well, say four."
+
+"At six cents apiece."
+
+Hamilton took a slip of paper and made a few figures.
+
+"Four cigars a day at six cents each, cost twenty-four cents. Three
+hundred and sixty-five by twenty-four gives eighty-seven dollars and
+sixty cents, as the cost of your cigars for a year."
+
+"O, no! That is impossible," returned Hoffman, quickly.
+
+"There is the calculation. Look at it for yourself," replied
+Hamilton, offering the slip of paper.
+
+"True as I live!" ejaculated the other, in unfeigned surprise. "I
+never dreamed of such a thing. Eighty-seven dollars. That will never
+do in the world. I must cut this down."
+
+"A simple matter of figures. I wonder you had not thought of
+counting the cost. Now I do not smoke at all. It is a bad habit,
+that injures the health, and makes us disagreeable to our friends,
+to say nothing of the expense. So you see how natural the result,
+that at the end of the year I should have eighty-seven dollars in
+band, while you had puffed away an equal sum in smoke. So much for
+the cigar account. I think you take a game of billiards now and
+then."
+
+"Certainly I do. Billiards are innocent. I am very fond of the game,
+and must have some recreation."
+
+"Exactly so. The question now is, What do they cost?"
+
+"Nothing to speak of. You can't make out a case here."
+
+"We shall see. How often do you play?"
+
+"Two or three times a week."
+
+"Say twice a week."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Very well. Let it be twice. A shilling a game must be paid for use
+of the table?"
+
+"Which comes from the loser's pocket. I, generally, make it a point
+to win."
+
+"But lose sometimes."
+
+"Of course. The winning is rarely all on one side."
+
+"One or two games a night?"
+
+"Sometimes."
+
+"Suppose we put down an average loss of three games in a week. Will
+that be too high?"
+
+"No. Call it three games a week."
+
+"Or, as to expense. three shillings. Then, after the play, there
+comes a glass of ale--or, it may be oysters."
+
+"Usually."
+
+"Will two shillings at week, taking one week with another, pay for
+your ale and oysters?"
+
+Hoffman did not answer until he had reflected for a few moments,
+Then he said,--
+
+"I'm afraid neither two nor four shillings will cover this item. We
+must set it down at six."
+
+"Which gives for billiards, ale and oysters, the sum of one dollar
+and a shilling per week. Fifty-two by a dollar twelve-and-a-half,
+and we have the sum of fifty-eight dollars and fifty cents. Rather a
+serious item this, in the year's expense, where the income is only
+six hundred dollars!"
+
+Hoffman looked at his friend in a bewildered kind of way. This was
+astounding.
+
+"How often do you go to the theatre and opera?" Hamilton went on
+with his questions.
+
+"Sometimes once a week. Sometimes twice or thrice, according to the
+attraction."
+
+"And you take a lady now and then?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Particularly during the opera season?"
+
+"Yes. I'm not so selfish as always to indulge in these pleasures
+alone."
+
+"Very well. Now for the cost. Sometimes the opera is one dollar. So
+it costs two dollars when you take a lady."
+
+"Which is not very often."
+
+"Will fifty cents a week, averaging the year, meet this expense?"
+
+After thinking for some time, Hoffman said yes, he thought that
+fifty cents a week would be a fair appropriations.
+
+"Which adds another item of twenty-six dollars a year to your
+expenses."
+
+"But would you cut off everything?" objected Hoffman. "Is a man to
+have no recreations, no amusements?"
+
+"That is another question," coolly answered Hamilton. "Our present
+business is to ascertain what has become of the two hundred and
+sixteen dollars which remained of your salary after boarding and
+clothing bills were paid. That is a handsome gold chain. What did it
+cost?"
+
+"Eighteen dollars."
+
+"Bought lately?"
+
+"Within six months."
+
+"So much more accounted for. Is that a diamond pin?"
+
+Hoffman colored a little as he answered,--
+
+"Not a very costly one. Merely a scarf-pin, as you. see. Small,
+though brilliant. Always worth what I paid for it."
+
+"Cost twenty-five or thirty dollars?"
+
+"Twenty-five."
+
+"Shall I put that down as one of the year expenses?"
+
+"Yes, you may do so."
+
+"What about stage and car hire? Do you ride or walk to and from
+business?"
+
+"I ride, of course. You wouldn't expect me to walk nearly a mile
+four times a day."
+
+"I never ride, except in bad weather. The walk gives me just the
+exercise I need. Every man, who is confined in a store or
+counting-room during business hours, should walk at least four miles
+a day. Taken in installments of one mile at a time, at good
+intervals, there is surely no hardship in this exercise. Four rides,
+at six-pence a ride and we have another item of twenty-five cents at
+day. You go down town nearly every evening?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And ride both ways?
+
+"Yes."
+
+"A shilling more, or thirty seven and a half cents daily for car and
+stage hire. Now for another little calculation. Three hundred days,
+at three shillings a day. There it is."
+
+And Hamilton reached a slip of paper to his friend.
+
+"Impossible!" The latter actually started to his feet. "A hundred
+and twelve dollars and fifty cents!"
+
+"If you spend three shillings a day, you will spend that sum in a
+year. Figures are inexorable."
+
+Hoffman sat down again in troubled surprise, saying,
+
+"Have you got to the end?"
+
+"Not yet," replied his companion.
+
+"Very well. Go on."
+
+"I often notice you with candies, or other confections; and you are,
+sometimes, quite free in sharing them with your friends. Burnt
+almonds, sugar almonds, Jim Crow's candied fruits, macaroons, etc.
+These are not to be had for nothing; and besides their cost they are
+a positive injury to the stomach. You, of course, know to what
+extent you indulge this weakness of appetite. Shall we say that it
+costs an average of ten cents a day?"
+
+"Add fruit, in and out of season, and call it fifteen cents,"
+replied Hoffman.
+
+"Very well. For three hundred days this will give another large
+sum--forty-five dollars?"
+
+"Anything more?" said Hoffman in a subdued, helpless kind of way,
+like one lying prostrate from a sudden blow.
+
+"I've seen you driving out occasionally; sometimes on Sunday. And,
+by the way, I think you generally take an excursion on Sunday. over
+to Staten Island, or to Hoboken, or up the river, or--but no matter
+where; you go about and spend money on the Sabbath day. How much
+does all this cost? A dollar a week? Seventy-five cents? Fifty
+cents? We are after the exact figures as near as maybe. What does it
+cost for drives and excursions, and their spice of refreshment?"
+
+"Say thirty dollars a year."
+
+"Thirty dollars, then, we will call it. And here let us close, in
+order to review the ground over which we have been travelling. All
+those various expenses, not one of which is for things essential to
+health, comfort, or happiness, but rather for their destruction,
+amount to the annual sum of four hundred and two dollars sixty
+cents,--you can go over the figures for yourself. Add to this three
+hundred and eighty-four dollars, the cost of boarding and clothing,
+and you swell the aggregate to nearly eight hundred dollars; and
+your salary is but six hundred!"
+
+A long silence followed.
+
+"I am amazed, confounded!" said Hoffman, resting his head between
+his hands, as he leaned on the table at which they were sitting.
+"And not only amazed and confounded," he went on, "but humiliated,
+ashamed! Was I a blind fool that I did not see it myself? Had I
+forgotten my multiplication table?"
+
+"You are like hundreds--nay, thousands," replied the friend, "to whom
+a sixpence, a shilling, or even a dollar spent daily has a very
+insignificant look; and who never stop to think that sixpence a day
+amounts to over twenty dollars in a year; a shilling a day to over
+forty; and a dollar a day to three hundred and sixty-five. We cannot
+waste our money in trifles, and yet have it to spend for substantial
+benefits. The cigars you smoked in the past year; the games of
+billiards you played; the ale and oysters, cakes, confections, and
+fruit consumed; the rides in cars and stages; the drives and Sunday
+excursions, crave only the briefest of pleasures, and left new and
+less easily satisfied desires behind. It will not do, my friend, to
+grant an easy indulgence to natural appetite and desire, for they
+ever seek to be our masters. If we would be men--self-poised,
+self-controlling, self-possessing men--we must let reason govern in
+all our actions. We must be wise, prudent, just, and self-denying;
+and from this rule of conduct will spring order, tranquillity of
+mind, success, and true enjoyment. I think, Hoffman, that I am quite
+as happy a man as you are; far happier, I am sure, at this moment;
+and yet I have denied myself nearly all theses indulgences through
+which you have exhausted your means and embarrassed yourself with
+debt. Moreover, I have a hundred dollars clear of everything, with
+which I shall take a long-desired excursion, while you will be
+compelled, for lack of the very money which has been worse than
+wasted, to remain a prisoner in the city. Pray, be counselled to a
+different course in future."
+
+"I would be knave or fool to need further incentive," said Hoffman,
+with much bitterness. "At the rate I am going on, debt, humiliation,
+and disgrace are before me. I may live up to my income without
+actually wronging others--but not beyond it. As things are now going,
+I am two hundred dollars worse off at the end of each year when than
+I began, and, worse still, weaker as to moral purpose, while the
+animal and sensual natures, from constant indulgence, have grown
+stronger. I must break this thraldom now; for, a year hence, it may
+be too late! Thank, you, my friend, for your plain talk. Thank you
+for teaching me anew the multiplication table, I shall, assuredly,
+not forget it again."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+V.
+
+WHAT CAN I DO?
+
+
+
+
+
+HE was a poor cripple--with fingers twisted out of all useful shape,
+and lower limbs paralyzed so that he had to drag them after him
+wearily when he moved through the short distances that limited his
+sphere of locomotion--a poor, unhappy, murmuring, and, at times,
+ill-natured cripple, eating the bread which a mother's hard labor
+procured for him. For hours every fair day, during spring, summer,
+and autumn, he might be seen in front of the little house where he
+lived leaning upon the gate, or sitting on an old bench looking with
+a sober face at the romping village children, or dreamily regarding
+the passengers who moved with such strong limbs up and down the
+street. How often, bitter envy stung the poor cripple's heart! How
+often, as the thoughtless village children taunted him cruelly with
+his misfortune, would he fling harsh maledictions after them. Many
+pitied the poor cripple; many looked upon him with feelings of
+disgust and repulsion; but few, if any, sought to do him good.
+
+Not far from where the cripple lived was a man who had been
+bedridden for years, and who was likely to remain so to the end of
+his days. He was supported by the patient industry of a wife.
+
+"If good works are the only passport to heaven," he said to a
+neighbor one day, "I fear my chances will be small."
+
+"'Well done, good and faithful servant,' is the language of
+welcome," was replied; and the neighbor looked at the sick man in a
+way that made him feel a little uncomfortable.
+
+"I am sick and bedridden--what can I do?" he spoke, fretfully.
+
+"When little is given, little is required. But if there be only a
+single talent it must be improved."
+
+"I have no talent," said the invalid.
+
+"Are you sure of that?"
+
+"What can I do? Look at me! No health, no strength, no power to rise
+from this bed. A poor, helpless creature, burdening my wife. Better
+for me, and for all, if I were in my grave."
+
+"If that were so you would be in your grave. But God knows best.
+There is something for you to do, or you would be no longer
+permitted to live," said the neighbor.
+
+The sick man shook his head.
+
+"As I came along just now," continued the neighbor, "I stopped to
+say a word to poor Tom Hicks, the cripple, as he stood swinging on
+the gate before his mother's house, looking so unhappy that I pitied
+him in my heart. 'What do you do with yourself all through these
+long days, Tom?' I asked. 'Nothing,' he replied, moodily. 'Don't you
+read sometimes?' I queried. 'Can't read,' was his sullen answer.
+'Were you never at school?' I went on. 'No: how can I get to
+school?' 'Why don't your mother teach you?' 'Because she can't read
+herself,' replied Tom. 'It isn't too late to begin now,' said I,
+encouragingly; 'suppose I were to find some one willing to teach
+you, what would you say?' The poor lad's face brightened as if the
+sunshine had fallen upon it; and he answered, 'I would say that
+nothing could please me better.' I promised to find him a teacher;
+and, as I promised, the thought of you, friend Croft, came into my
+mind. Now, here is something that you can do; a good work in which
+you can employ your one talent."
+
+The sick man did not respond warmly to this proposition. He had been
+so long a mere recipient of good offices,--had so long felt himself
+the object towards which pity and service must tend,--that he had
+nearly lost the relish for good deeds. Idle dependence had made him
+selfish.
+
+"Give this poor cripple a lesson every day," went on the neighbor,
+pressing home the subject, "and talk and read to him. Take him in
+charge as one of God's children, who needs to be instructed and led
+up to a higher life than the one he is now living. Is not this a
+good and a great work? It is, my friend, one that God has brought to
+your hand, and in the doing of which there will be great reward.
+What can you do? Much! Think of that poor boy's weary life, and of
+the sadder years that lie still before him. What will become of him
+when his mother dies? The almshouse alone will open its doors for
+the helpless one. But who can tell what resources may open before
+him if stimulated by thought. Take him, then, and unlock the doors
+of a mind that now sits in darkness, that sunlight may come in. To
+you it will give a few hours of pleasant work each day; to him it
+will be a life-long benefit. Will you do it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The sick man could not say "No," though in uttering that
+half-extorted assent he manifested no warm interest in the case of
+poor Tom Hicks.
+
+On the next day the cripple came to the sick man, and received his
+first lesson; and every day, at an appointed hour, he was in Mr.
+Croft's room, eager for the instruction he received. Quickly he
+mastered the alphabet, and as quickly learned to construct small
+words, preparatory to combining them in a reading lesson.
+
+After the first three or four days the sick man, who, had undertaken
+this work with reluctance, began to find his heart going down into
+it. Tom was so ready a scholar, so interested, and so grateful, that
+Mr. Croft found the task of instructing him a real pleasure. The
+neighbor, who had suggested this useful employment of the invalid's
+time, looked in now and then to see how matters were progressing,
+and to speak words of encouragement.
+
+Poor Tom was seen less frequently than before hanging on the gate,
+or sitting idly on the bench before his mother's dwelling; and when
+you did find him there, as of old, you saw a different expression on
+his face. Soon the children, who had only looked at him, half in
+fear, from a distance, or come closer to the gate where he stood
+gazing with his strange eyes out into the street, in order to worry
+him, began to have a different feelings for the cripple, and one and
+another stopped occasionally to speak with him; for Tom no longer
+made queer faces, or looked at them wickedly, as if he would harm
+them if in his power, nor retorted angrily if they said things to
+worry him. And now it often happened that a little boy or girl, who
+had pitied the poor cripple, and feared him at the same time, would
+offer him a flower, or an apple, or at handful of nuts in passing to
+school; and he would take these gifts thankfully, and feel better
+all day in remembrance of the kindness with which they had been
+bestowed. Sometimes he would risk to see their books, and his eyes
+would run eagerly over the pages so far in advance of his
+comprehension, yet with the hope in his heart of one day mastering
+them; for he had grown all athirst for knowledge.
+
+As soon as Tom could read, the children in the neighborhood, who had
+grown to like him, and always gathered around him at the gate, when
+they happened to find him there, supplied him with books; so that he
+had an abundance of mental food, and now began to repay his
+benefactor, the bedridden man, by reading to him for hours every
+day.
+
+The mind of Tom had some of this qualities of a sponge: it absorbed
+a great deal, and, like a sponge, gave out freely at every pressure.
+
+Whenever his mind came in contact with another mind, it must either
+absorb or impart. So he was always talking or always listening when
+he had anybody who would talk or listen.
+
+There was something about him that strongly attracted the boys in
+the neighborhood, and he usually had three or four of them around
+him and often a dozen, late in the afternoon, when the schools were
+out. As Tom had entered a new world,--the world of books,--and was
+interested in all he found there, the subjects on which he talked
+with the boys who sought his company were always instructive. There,
+was no nonsense about the cripple: suffering of body and mind had
+long ago made him serious; and all nonsense, or low, sensual talk,
+to which boys are sometimes addicted, found no encouragement in his
+presence. His influence over these boys was therefore of the best
+kind. The parents of some of the children, when they found their
+sons going so often to the house of Tom Hicks, felt doubts as to the
+safety of such intimate intercourse with the cripple, towards whom
+few were prepossessed, as he bore in the village the reputation of
+being ill-tempered and depraved, and questioned them very closely in
+regard to the nature of their intercourse. The report of these boys
+took their parents by surprise; but, on investigation, it proved to
+be true, and Tom's character soon rose in the public estimation.
+
+Then came, as a natural consequence, inquiry as to the cause of such
+a change in the unfortunate lad; and the neighbor of the sick man
+who had instructed Tom told the story of Mr. Croft's agency in the
+matter. This interested the whole town in both the cripple and his
+bedridden instructor. The people were taken by surprise at such a
+notable interest of the great good which may sometimes be done where
+the means look discouragingly small. Mr. Croft was praised for his
+generous conduct, and not only praised, but helped by many who had,
+until now, felt indifferent, towards his case--for his good work
+rebuked them for neglected opportunities.
+
+The cripple's eagerness to learn, and rapid progress under the most
+limited advantages, becoming generally known, a gentleman, whose son
+had been one of Tom's visitors, and who had grown to be a better boy
+under his influence, offered to send him in his wagon every day to
+the school-house, which stood half a mile distant, and have him
+brought back in the afternoon.
+
+It was the happiest day in Tom's life when he was helped down from
+the wagon, and went hobbling into the school-room.
+
+Before leaving home on that morning he had made his way up to the
+sick room of Mr. Croft.
+
+"I owe it all to you," he said, as he brought the white, thin hand
+of his benefactor to his lips. It was damp with more than a kiss
+when he laid it back gently on the bed. "And our Father in heaven
+will reward you."
+
+"You have done a good work," said the neighbor, who had urged Mr.
+Croft to improve his one talent, as he sat talking with him on that
+evening about the poor cripple and his opening prospects; "and it
+will serve you in that day when the record of life is opened. Not
+because of the work itself, but for the true charity which prompted
+the work. It was begun, I know, in some self-denial, but that
+self-denial was for another's good; and because you put away love of
+ease, and indifference, and forced yourself to do kind offices,
+seeing that it was right to help others, God will send a heavenly
+love of doing good into your soul, which always includes a great
+reward, and is the passport to eternal felicities.
+
+"You said," continued the neighbor, "only a few months ago, 'What
+can I do?' and spoke as a man who felt that he was deprived of all
+the means of accomplishing good; and yet you have, with but little
+effort, lifted a human soul out of the dark valley of ignorance,
+where it was groping ill self-torture, and placed it on an ascending
+mountain path. The light of hope has fallen, through your aid, with
+sunny warmth upon a heart that was cold and barren a little while
+ago, but is now green with verdure, and blossoming in the sweet
+promise of fruit. The infinite years to come alone can reveal the
+blessings that will flow from this one act of a bedridden man, who
+felt that in him was no capacity for good deeds."
+
+The advantages of a school being placed within the reach of Tom
+Hicks, he gave up every thought to the acquirement of knowledge. And
+now came a serious difficulty. His bent, stiff fingers could not be
+made to hold either pen or pencil in the right position, or to use
+them in such a way as to make intelligible signs. But Tom was too
+much in earnest to give up on the first, or second, or third effort.
+He found, after a great many trials, that he could hold a pencil
+more firmly than at first, and guide his hand in some obedience to
+his will. This was sufficient to encourage him to daily
+long-continued efforts, the result of which was a gradual yielding
+of the rigid muscles, which became in time so flexible that he could
+make quite passable figures, and write a fair hand. This did not
+satisfy him, however. He was ambitious to do better; and so kept on
+trying and trying, until few boys in the school could give a fairer
+copy.
+
+"Have you heard the news?" said a neighbor to Mr. Croft, the poor
+bedridden man. It was five years from the day he gave the poor
+cripple, Tom Hicks, his first lesson.
+
+"What news?" the sick man asked, in a feeble voice, not even turning
+his head towards the speaker. Life's pulses were running very low.
+The long struggle with disease was nearly over.
+
+"Tom Hicks has received the appointment of teacher to our public
+school."
+
+"Are you in earnest?" There was a mingling of surprise and doubt in
+the low tones that crept out upon the air.
+
+"Yes. It is true what I say. You know that after Mr. Wilson died the
+directors got Tom, who was a favorite with all the scholars, to keep
+the school together for a few weeks until a successor could be
+appointed. He managed so well, kept such good order, and showed
+himself so capable as an instructor, that, when the election took
+place to-day, he received a large majority of votes over a number of
+highly-recommended teachers, and this without his having made
+application for the situation, or even dreaming of such a thing."
+
+At this moment the cripple's well-known shuffling tread and the
+rattle of crutches was heard on the stairs. He came up with more
+than his usual hurry. Croft turned with an effort, so as to get a
+sight of him as he entered the room.
+
+"I have heard the good news," he said, as he reached a hand feebly
+towards Tom, "and it has made my heart glad."
+
+"I owe it all to you," replied the cripple, in a voice that trembled
+with feeling. "God will reward you."
+
+And he caught the shadowy hand, touched it with his lips, and wet it
+with grateful tears, as once before. Even as he held that thin,
+white hand the low-moving pulse took an lower beat--lower and
+lower--until the long-suffering heart grew still, and the freed
+spirit went up to its reward.
+
+"My benefactor!" sobbed the cripple, as he stood by the wasted form
+shrouded in grave-clothes, and looked upon it for the last time ere
+the coffin-lid closed over it. "What would I have been except for
+you?"
+
+Are your opportunities for doing good few, and limited in range, to
+all appearances, reader? Have you often said, like the bedridden
+man, "What can I do?" Are you poor, weak, ignorant, obscure, or even
+sick as he was, and shut out from contact with the busy outside
+world? No matter. If you have a willing heart, good work will come
+to your hands. Is there no poor, unhappy neglected one to whom you
+can speak words of encouragement, or lift out of the vale of
+ignorance? Think! Cast around you. You may, by a single sentence,
+spoken in the right time and in the right spirit, awaken thoughts in
+some dull mind that may grow into giant powers in after times,
+wielded for the world's good. While you may never be able to act
+directly on society to any great purpose, in consequence of mental
+or physical disabilities, you may, by instruction and guidance,
+prepare some other mind for useful work, which, but for your agency,
+might have wasted its powers in ignorance or crime. All around us
+are human souls that may be influenced. The nurse, who ministers to
+you in sickness, may be hurt or helped by you; the children, who
+look into your face and read it daily, who listen to your speech,
+and remember what you say, will grow better or worse, according to
+the spirit of your life, as it flows into them; the neglected son of
+a neighbor may find in you the wise counsellor who holds him back
+from vice. Indeed, you cannot pass a single day, whether your sphere
+be large or small, your place exalted or lowly, without abundant
+opportunities for doing good. Only the willing heart is required. As
+for the harvest, that is nodding, ripe for the sickle, in every
+man's field. What of that time when the Lord of the Harvest comes,
+and you bind up your sheaves and lay them at his feet?
+
+
+
+
+
+
+VI.
+
+ON GUARD.
+
+
+
+
+
+"O, MAMMA! See that wicked-looking cat on the fence! She'll have one
+of those dear little rabbits in a minute!"
+
+Mattie's sweet face grew pale with fear, and she trembled all over.
+
+"It's only a picture, my dear," said Mattie's mother. "The cat can't
+get down, and so the rabbits are safe."
+
+"But it looks as if she could--as if she'd jump right upon the dear
+little things. I wish there was a big dog, like Old Lion, there.
+Wouldn't he make her fly?"
+
+"But it's only a picture. If there was a dog there, he couldn't bark
+nor spring at the cat."
+
+"Why didn't the man who made the picture put in a dog somewhere, so
+that we could see him, and know the rabbits were safe?"
+
+"Maybe he didn't think of it," said Mattie's mother.
+
+"I wish he had."
+
+"Perhaps," said the mother, "he wished to teach us this lesson,
+that, as there are evil and hurtful things in the world, we should
+never be so entirely off of our guard as the children playing, with
+the rabbits seem to be. Dear little things! How innocent and happy
+they are! There is not a thought of danger in their minds. And yet,
+close by them is a great cat, with cruel eyes, ready to spring upon
+their harmless pets. Yes; I think the artist meant to teach a lesson
+when he drew this picture."
+
+"What lesson, mother?" asked Mattie. "O, I remember," she added
+quickly. "You said that it might be to teach us never to be off of
+our guard, because there are evil and hurtful things in the world."
+
+"Yes; and that is a lesson which cannot be learned too early. Baby
+begins to learn it when he touches the fire and is burnt; when he
+pulls the cat too hard and she scratches him; when he runs too fast
+for his little strength, and gets a fall. And children learn it when
+they venture too near vicious animal and are kicked or bitten; when
+they tear their clothes, or get their hands and faces scratched with
+thorns and briers; when they fall from trees, or into the water, and
+in many other ways that I need not mention. And men and women learn,
+it very, very, often in pains and sorrows too deep for you to
+comprehend."
+
+Mattie drew a long sigh, as she stood before her mother, looking,
+soberly into her face.
+
+"I wish there wasn't anything bad in the world," she said. "Nothing
+that could hurt us."
+
+"Ah, dear child!" answered the mother, her voice echoing Mattie's
+sigh, "from millions and millions of hearts that wish comes up
+daily. But we have this to cheer us: if we stand on guard--if we are
+watchful as well as innocent--we shall rarely get hurt. It is the
+careless and the thoughtless that harm reaches."
+
+"And so we must always be on guard," said Mattie, still looking very
+sober.
+
+"There is no other way, my child. 'On guard' is the watchword of
+safety for us all, young and old. But the harm that comes from the
+outside is of small account compared with the, harm that comes from
+within."
+
+"From within, mother! How can harm could from within?"
+
+"You read about the 'hawk among the birds'?"
+
+"Yes, yes--O, now I understand what you mean! Bad thoughts and
+feelings can do us harm."
+
+"Yes; and the hurt is deeper and more deadly than any bodily harm,
+for it is done to the soul. These rabbits are like good and innocent
+things of the mind, and the cat like evil and cruel things. If you
+do not keep watch, in some unguarded moment angry passions evil
+arise and hurt or destroy your good affections; just as this cat, if
+she were real, would tear or kill the tender rabbits."
+
+"O, mother! Is it as bad as that?" said Mattie.
+
+"Yes, my dear; just as bad as that. And when any of these good and
+innocent feelings are destroyed by anger, hatred, jealousy, envy,
+revenge and the like, then just so much of heavenly good dies in us
+and just so far do we come under the power of what is evil and
+hurtful. Then we turn aside from safe and pleasant ways and walk
+among briers and thorns. Dear Mattie! consider well the lesson of
+this picture, and set a watch over your heart daily. But watching is
+not all. We are told in the Bible to pray as well as watch. All of
+us, young and old, must do this if we would be in safety; for human
+will and human effort would all be in vain to overcome evil if
+divine strength did not flow into them. And unless we desire and
+pray for this divine strength we cannot receive it."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+VII.
+
+A VISIT WITH THE DOCTOR.
+
+
+
+
+
+"HOW are you to-day, Mrs. Carleton?" asked Dr. Farleigh, as he sat
+down by his patient, who reclined languidly in a large cushioned
+chair.
+
+"Miserable," was the faintly spoken reply. And the word was
+repeated,--"Miserable."
+
+The doctor took one of the lady's small, white hands, on which the
+network of veins, most delicately traced, spread its blue lines
+everywhere beneath the transparent skin. It was a beautiful hand--a
+study for a painter or sculptor. It was a soft, flexible hand--soft,
+flexible, and velvety to the touch as the hand of a baby, for it was
+as much a stranger to useful work. The doctor laid his fingers on
+the wrist. Under the pressure he felt the pulse beat slowly and
+evenly. He took out his watch and counted the beats, seventy in a
+minute. There was a no fever, nor any unusual disturbance of the
+system. Calmly the heart was doing its appointed work.
+
+"How is your head, Mrs. Carleton?"
+
+The lady moved her head from side to side two or three times.
+
+"Anything out of the way there?"
+
+"My head is well enough, but I feel so miserable--so weak. I haven't
+the strength of a child. The least exertion exhausts me."
+
+And the lady shut her eyes, looking the picture of feebleness.
+
+"Have you taken the tonic, for which I left a prescription
+yesterday?"
+
+"Yes; but I'm no stronger."
+
+"How is your appetite?"
+
+"Bad."
+
+"Have you taken the morning walk in the garden that I suggested?"
+
+"O, dear, no! Walk out in the garden? I'm faint by the time I get to
+the breakfast-room! I can't live at this rate, doctor. What am I to
+do? Can't you build me up in some way? I'm burden to myself and
+every one else."
+
+And Mrs. Carleton really looked distressed.
+
+"You ride out every day?"
+
+"I did until the carriage was broken, and that was nearly a week
+ago. It has been at the carriage-maker's ever since."
+
+"You must have the fresh air, Mrs. Carleton," said the doctor,
+emphatically. "Fresh air, change of scene, and exercise, are
+indispensable in your case. You will die if you remain shut up after
+this fashion. Come, take a ride with me."
+
+"Doctor! How absurd!" exclaimed Mrs. Carleton, almost shocked by the
+suggestion. "Ride with you! What would people think?"
+
+"A fig for people's thoughts! Get your shawl and bonnet, and take a
+drive with me. What do you care for meddlesome people's thoughts?
+Come!"
+
+The doctor knew his patient.
+
+"But you're not in earnest, surely?" There was a half-amused twinkle
+in the lady's eyes.
+
+"Never more in earnest. I'm going to see a patient just out of the
+city, and the drive will be a charming one. Nothing would please me
+better than to have your company."
+
+There was a vein of humor, and a spirit of "don't care" in Mrs.
+Carleton, which had once made her independent, and almost hoydenish.
+But fashionable associations, since her woman-life began, had toned
+her down into exceeding propriety. Fashion and conventionality,
+however, were losing their influence, since enfeebled health kept
+her feet back from the world's gay places; and the doctor's
+invitation to a ride found her sufficiently disenthralled to see in
+it a pleasing novelty.
+
+"I've half a mind to go," she said, smiling. She had not smiled
+before since the doctor came in.
+
+"I'll ring for your maid," and Dr. Farleigh's hand was on the
+bell-rope before Mrs. Carleton had space to think twice, and
+endanger a change of thought.
+
+"I'm not sure that I am strong enough for the effort," said Mrs.
+Carleton, and she laid her head back upon the cushions in a feeble
+way.
+
+"Trust me for that," replied the doctor.
+
+The maid came in.
+
+"Bring me a shawl and my bonnet, Alice; I am going to ride out with
+the doctor." Very languidly was the sentence spoken.
+
+"I'm afraid, doctor, it will be too much for me. You don't know how
+weak I am. The very thought of such an effort exhausts me."
+
+"Not a thought of the effort," replied Dr. Farleigh. "It isn't
+that."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"A thought of appearances--of what people will say."
+
+"Now, doctor! You don't think me so weak in that direction?"
+
+"Just so weak," was the free-spoken answer. "You fashionable people
+are all afraid of each other. You haven't a spark of individuality
+or true independence. No, not a spark. You are quite strong enough
+to ride out in your own elegant carriage but with the doctor!--O,
+dear, no! If you were certain of not meeting Mrs. McFlimsey, perhaps
+the experiment might be adventured. But she is always out on fine
+days."
+
+"Doctor, for shame! How can you say that?"
+
+And a ghost of color crept into the face of Mrs. Carleton, while her
+eyes grew brighter--almost flashed.
+
+The maid came in with shawl and bonnet. Dr. Farleigh, as we have
+intimated, understood his patient, and said just two or three words
+more, in a tone half contemptuous.
+
+"Afraid of Mrs. McFlimsey!"
+
+"Not I; nor of forty Mrs. McFlimseys!"
+
+It was not the ghost of color that warmed Mrs. Carleton's face now,
+but the crimson of a quicker and stronger heart-beat. She actually
+arose from her chair without reaching for her maid's hand and stood
+firmly while the shawl was adjusted and the bonnet-strings tied.
+
+"We shall have a charming ride," said the doctor, as he crowded in
+beside his fashionable lady companion, and took up the loose reins.
+He noticed that she sat up erectly, and with scarcely a sign of the
+languor that but a few minutes before had so oppressed her. "Lean
+back when you see Mrs. McFlimsey's carriage, and draw your veil
+closely. She'll never dream that it's you."
+
+"I'll get angry if you play on that string much longer!" exclaimed
+Mrs. Carleton; "what do I care for Mrs. McFlimsey?"
+
+How charmingly the rose tints flushed her cheeks! How the light
+rippled in her dark sweet eyes, that were leaden a little while
+before!
+
+Away from the noisy streets, out upon the smoothly-beaten road, and
+amid green field and woodlands, gardens and flower-decked orchards,
+the doctor bore his patient, holding her all the while in pleasant
+talk. How different this from the listless, companionless drives
+taken by the lady in her own carriage--a kind of easy, vibrating
+machine, that quickened the sluggish blood no more than a cushioned
+rocking chair!
+
+Closely the doctor observed his patient. He saw how erectly she
+continued to sit; how the color deepened in her face, which actually
+seemed rounder and fuller; how the sense of enjoyment fairly danced
+in her eyes.
+
+Returning to the city by a different road, the doctor, after driving
+through streets entirely unfamiliar to his companion, drew up his
+horse before a row of mean-looking dwellings, and dropping the
+reins, threw open the carriage door, and stepped upon the
+pavement--at the same time reaching out his hand to Mrs. Carleton.
+But she drew back, saying,--
+
+"What is the meaning of this, doctor?"
+
+"I have a patient here, and I want you to see her."
+
+"O, no; excuse me, doctor. I've no taste for such things," answered
+the lady.
+
+"Come--I can't leave you alone in the carriage. Ned might take a
+fancy to walk off with you."
+
+Mrs. Carleton glanced at the patient old horse, whom the doctor was
+slandering, with a slightly alarmed manner.
+
+"Don't you think he'll stand, doctor?" she asked, uneasily.
+
+"He likes to get home, like others of his tribe. Come;" and the
+doctor held out his hand in a persistent way.
+
+Mrs. Carleton looked at the poor tenements before which the doctor's
+carriage had stopped with something of disgust and something of
+apprehension.
+
+"I can never go in there, doctor."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I might take some disease."
+
+"Never fear. More likely to find a panacea there."
+
+The last sentence was in an undertone.
+
+Mrs. Carleton left the carriage, and crossing the pavement, entered
+one of the houses, and passed up with the doctor to the second
+story. To his light tap at a chamber door a woman's voice said,--
+
+"Come in."
+
+The door was pushed open, and the doctor and Mrs. Carleton went in.
+The room was small, and furnished in the humblest manner, but the
+air was pure, and everything looked clean and tidy. In a chair, with
+a pillow pressed in at her back for a support, sat a pale, emaciated
+woman, whose large, bright eyes looked up eagerly, and in a kind of
+hopeful surprise, at so unexpected a visitor as the lady who came in
+with the doctor. On her lap a baby was sleeping, as sweet, and pure,
+and beautiful a baby as ever Mrs. Carleton had looked upon. The
+first impulse of her true woman's heart, had she yielded to it,
+would have prompted her to take it in her arms and cover it with
+kisses.
+
+The woman was too weak to rise from her chair, but she asked Mrs.
+Carleton to be seated in a tone of lady-like self-possession that
+did not escape the visitor's observation.
+
+"How did you pass the night, Mrs. Leslie?" asked the doctor.
+
+"About as usual," was answered, in a calm, patient way; and she even
+smiled as she spoke.
+
+"How about the pain through your side and shoulder?"
+
+"It may have been a little easier."
+
+"You slept?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What of the night sweats?"
+
+"I don't think they have diminished any."
+
+The doctor beat his eyes to the floor, and sat in silence for some
+time. The heart of Mrs. Carleton was opening towards--the baby and it
+was a baby to make its way into any heart. She had forgotten her own
+weakness--forgotten, in the presence of this wan and wasted mother,
+with a sleeping cherub on her lap, all about her own invalid state.
+
+"I will send you a new medicine," said the doctor, looking up; then
+speaking to Mrs. Carleton, he added,--
+
+"Will you sit here until I visit two or three patients in the
+block?"
+
+"O, certainly," and she reached out her arms for the baby, and
+removed it so gently from its mother's lap that its soft slumber was
+not broken. When the doctor returned he noticed that there had been
+tears in Mrs. Carleton's eyes. She was still holding the baby, but
+now resigned the quiet sleeper to its mother, kissing it as she did
+so. He saw her look with a tender, meaning interest at the white,
+patient face of the sick woman, and heard her say, as she spoke a
+word or two in parting,--
+
+"I shall not forget you."
+
+"That's a sad case, doctor," remarked the lady, as she took her
+place in the carriage.
+
+"It is. But she is sweet and patient."
+
+"I saw that, and it filled me with surprise. She tells me that her
+husband died a year ago."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And that she has supported herself by shirt-making."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But that she had become too feeble for work, and is dependent on a
+younger sister, who earns a few dollars, weekly, at book-folding."
+
+"The simple story, I believe," said the doctor.
+
+Mrs. Carleton was silent for most of the way home; but thought was
+busy. She had seen a phase of life that touched her deeply.
+
+"You are better for this ride," remarked the doctor, as he handed
+her from the carriage.
+
+"I think so," replied Mrs. Carleton.
+
+"There has not been so fine a color on your face for months."
+
+They had entered Mrs. Carleton's elegant residence, and were sitting
+in one of her luxurious parlors.
+
+"Shall I tell you why?" added the doctor.
+
+Mrs. Carleton bowed.
+
+"You have had some healthy heart-beats."
+
+She did not answer.
+
+"And I pray you, dear madam, let the strokes go on," continued Dr.
+Farleigh. "Let your mind become interested in some good work, and
+your hands obey your thoughts, and you will be a healthy woman, in
+body and soul. Your disease is mental inaction."
+
+Mrs. Carleton looked steadily at the doctor.
+
+"You are in earnest," she said, in a calm, firm way.
+
+"Wholly in earnest, ma'am. I found you, an hour ago, in so weak a
+state that to lift your hand was an exhausting effort. You are
+sitting erect now, with every muscle taughtly strung. When will your
+carriage be home?"
+
+He asked the closing question abruptly.
+
+"To-morrow," was replied.
+
+"Then I will not call for you, but--"
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"Say on, doctor."
+
+"Will you take my prescription?"
+
+"Yes." There was no hesitation.
+
+"You must give that sick woman a ride into the country. The fresh,
+pure, blossom-sweet air will do her good--may, indeed, turn the
+balance of health in her favor. Don't be afraid of Mrs. McFlimsey."
+
+"For shame, doctor! But you are too late in your suggestion. I'm
+quite ahead of you."
+
+"Ah! in what respect?"
+
+"That drive into the country is already a settled thing. Do you
+know, I'm in love with that baby?"
+
+"Othello's occupation's gone, I see!" returned the doctor, rising.
+"But I may visit you occasionally as a friend, I presume, if not as
+a medical adviser?"
+
+"As my best friend, always," said Mrs. Carleton, with feeling. "You
+have led me out of myself, and showed me the way to health and
+happiness; and I have settled the question as to my future. It shall
+not be as the past."
+
+And it was not.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+VIII.
+
+HADN'T TIME FOR TROUBLE.
+
+
+
+
+
+MRS. CALDWELL was so unfortunate as to have a rich husband. Not that
+the possession of a rich husband is to be declared a misfortune,
+_per se_, but, considering the temperament of Mrs. Caldwell, the
+fact was against her happiness, and therefore is to be regarded,
+taking the ordinary significance, of the term, as unfortunate.
+
+Wealth gave Mrs. Caldwell leisure for ease and luxurious
+self-indulgence, and she accepted the privileges of her condition.
+Some minds, when not under the spur, sink naturally into, a state of
+inertia, from which, when any touch of the spur reaches them, they
+spring up with signs of fretfulness. The wife and mother, no matter
+what her condition, who yields to this inertia, cannot escape the
+spur. Children and servant, excepting all other causes, will not
+spare the pricking heel.
+
+Mrs. Caldwell was, by nature, a kind-hearted woman, and not lacking
+in good sense. But for the misfortune of having a rich husband, she
+might have spent an active, useful, happy life. It was the
+opportunity which abundance gave for idleness and ease that marred
+everything. Order in a household, and discipline among children, do
+not come spontaneously. They are the result of wise forecast, and
+patient, untiring, never-relaxing effort. A mere conviction of duty
+is rarely found to be sufficient incentive; there must be the
+impelling force of some strong-handed necessity. In the case of Mrs.
+Caldwell, this did not exist; and so she failed in the creation of
+that order in her family without which permanent tranquillity is
+impossible. In all lives are instructive episodes, and interesting
+as instructive. Let us take one of them from the life of this lady,
+whose chief misfortune was in being rich.
+
+Mrs. Caldwell's brow was clouded. It was never, for a very long
+time, free from, clouds, for it seemed as if all sources of worry
+and vexation were on the increase; and, to make matters worse,
+patience was assuredly on the decline. Little things, once scarcely
+observed, now give sharp annoyance, there being rarely any
+discrimination and whether they were of accident, neglect, or
+wilfulness.
+
+"Phoebe!" she called, fretfully.
+
+The voice of her daughter answered, half-indifferently, from the
+next room.
+
+"Why don't you come when I call you?" Anger now mingled with
+fretfulness.
+
+The face of a girl in her seventeenth year, on which sat no very
+amiable expression, was presented at the door.
+
+"Is that your opera cloak lying across the chair, and partly on the
+floor?"
+
+Phoebe, without answering, crossed the room, and catching up the
+garment with as little carefulness as if it had been an old shawl
+threw it across her arm, and was retiring, when her mother said,
+sharply,--
+
+"Just see how you are rumpling that cloak! What do you mean?"
+
+"I'm not hurting the cloak, mother," answered Phoebe, coolly. Then,
+with a shade of reproof, she added, "You fret yourself for nothing."
+
+"Do you call it nothing to abuse an elegant garment like that?"
+demanded Mrs. Caldwell. "To throw it upon the floor, and tumble it
+about as if it were an old rag?"
+
+"All of which, mother mine, I have not done." And the girl tossed
+her head with an air of light indifference.
+
+"Don't talk to me in that way, Phoebe! I'll not suffer it. You are
+forgetting yourself." The mother spoke with a sternness of manner
+that caused her daughter to remain silent. As they stood looking at
+each other, Mrs. Caldwell said, in a changed voice,--
+
+"What is that on your front tooth?"
+
+"A speck of something, I don't know what; I noticed it only
+yesterday."
+
+Mrs. Caldwell. crossed the room hastily, with a disturbed manner,
+and catching hold of Phoebe's arm, drew her to a window.
+
+"Let me see!" and she looked narrowly at the tooth, "Decay, as I
+live!" The last sentence was uttered in a tone of alarm. "You must
+go to the dentist immediately. This is dreadful! If your teeth are
+beginning to fail now, you'll not have one left in your head by the
+time you're twenty-five."
+
+"It's only a speck," said Phoebe, evincing little concern.
+
+"A speck! I And do you know what a speck means?" demanded Mrs.
+Caldwell, with no chance in the troubled expression of her face.
+
+"What does it mean?" asked Phoebe.
+
+"Why, it means that the quality of your teeth is not good. One speck
+is only the herald of another. Next week a second tooth may show
+signs of decay, and a third in the week afterwards. Dear--dear! This
+is too bad! The fact is, you are destroying your health. I've talked
+and talked about the way you devour candies and sweetmeats; about
+the way you sit up at night, and about a hundred other
+irregularities. There must be a change in all. This, Phoebe, as I've
+told you dozens and dozens of times."
+
+Mrs. Caldwell was growing more and more excited.
+
+"Mother! mother!" replied Phoebe, "don't fret yourself for nothing.
+The speck can be removed in an instant."
+
+"But the enamel is destroyed! Don't you see that? Decay will go on."
+
+"I don't believe that follows at all," answered Phoebe, tossing her
+head, indifferently, "And even if I believed in the worst, I'd find
+more comfort in laughing than crying." And she ran off to her own
+room.
+
+Poor Mrs. Caldwell sat down to brood over this new trouble; and as
+she brooded, fancy wrought for her the most unpleasing images.
+
+She saw the beauty of Phoebe, a few years later in life, most sadly
+marred by broken or discolored teeth. Looking at that, and that
+alone, it magnified itself into a calamity, grew to an evil which
+overshadowed everything.
+
+She was still tormenting herself about the prospect of Phoebe's loss
+of teeth, when, in passing through her elegantly-furnished parlors,
+her eyes fell on a pale acid stain, about the size of a shilling
+piece, one of the rich figures in the carpet. The color of this
+figure was maroon, and the stain, in consequence, distinct; at
+least, it became very distinct to her eye as they dwelt upon it as
+if held there by a kind of fascination.
+
+Indeed, for a while, Mrs. Caldwell could see nothing else but this
+spot on the carpet; no, not even though she turned her eyes in
+various directions, the retina keeping that image to the exclusion
+of all others.
+
+While yet in the gall of this new bitterness, Mrs. Caldwell heard a
+carriage stop in front of the house, and, glancing through the
+window, saw that it was on the opposite side of the street. She knew
+it to be the carriage of a lady whose rank made her favor a
+desirable thing to all who were emulous of social distinction. To be
+of her set was a coveted honor. For her friend and neighbor
+opposite, Mrs. Caldwell did not feel the highest regard; and it
+rather hurt her to see the first call made in that quarter, instead
+of upon herself. It was no very agreeable thought, that this
+lady-queen of fashion, so much courted and regarded, might really
+think most highly of her neighbor opposite. To be second to her,
+touched the quick of pride, and hurt.
+
+Only a card was left. Then the lady reentered her carriage. What?
+Driving away? Even so. Mrs. Caldwell was not even honored by a call!
+This was penetrating the quick. What could it mean? Was she to be
+ruled out of this lady's set? The thought was like a wounding arrow
+to her soul.
+
+Unhappy Mrs. Caldwell! Her daughter's careless habits; the warning
+sign of decay among her pearly teeth; the stain on a beautiful
+carpet, and, worse than all as a pain-giver, this slight from a
+magnate of fashion;--were not these enough to cast a gloom over the
+state of a woman who had everything towards happiness that wealth
+and social station could give, but did not know how to extract from
+them the blessing they had power to bestow? Slowly, and with
+oppressed feelings, she left the parlors, and went up stairs. Half
+an hour later, as she sat alone, engaged in the miserable work of
+weaving out of the lightest material a very pall of shadows for her
+soul, a servant came to the door, and announced a visitor. It was an
+intimate friend, whom she could not refuse to see--a lady named Mrs.
+Bland.
+
+"How are you, Mrs. Caldwell?" said the visitor, as the two ladies
+met.
+
+"Miserable," was answered. And not even the ghost of a smile played
+over the unhappy face.
+
+"Are you sick?" asked Mrs. Bland, showing some concern.
+
+"No, not exactly sick. But, somehow or other, I'm in a worry about
+things all the while. I can't move a step in any direction without
+coming against the pricks. It seems as though all things were
+conspiring against me."
+
+And then Mrs. Caldwell went, with her friend, through the whole
+series of her morning troubles, ending with the sentence,--
+
+"Now, don't you think I am beset? Why, Mrs. Bland, I'm in a
+purgatory."
+
+"A purgatory of your own creating, my friend," answered Mrs. Bland
+with the plainness of speech warranted by the intimacy of their
+friendship; "and my advice is to come out of it as quickly as
+possible."
+
+"Come out of it! That is easily said. Will you show me the way?"
+
+"At some other time perhaps. But this morning I have something else
+on hand. I've called for you to go with me on an errand of mercy."
+
+There was no Christian response in the face of Mrs. Caldwell. She
+was too deep amid the gloom of her own, wretched state to have
+sympathy for others.
+
+"Mary Brady is in trouble," said Mrs. Bland.
+
+"What has happened?" Mrs. Caldwell was alive with interest in a
+moment.
+
+"Her husband fell through a hatchway yesterday, and came near being
+killed."
+
+"Mrs. Bland!"
+
+"The escape was miraculous."
+
+"Is he badly injured?"
+
+"A leg and two ribs broken. Nothing more, I believe. But that is a
+very serious thing, especially where the man's labor is his family's
+sole dependence."
+
+"Poor Mary!" said Mrs. Caldwell, in real sympathy. "In what a
+dreadful state she must be! I pity her from the bottom of my heart."
+
+"Put on your things, and let us go and see her at once."
+
+Now, it is never a pleasant thing for persons like Mrs. Caldwell to
+look other people's troubles directly in the face. It is bad enough
+to dwell among their own pains and annoyances, and they shrink from
+meddling with another's griefs. But, in the present case, Mrs.
+Caldwell, moved by a sense of duty and a feeling of interest in Mrs.
+Brady, who had, years before, been a faithful domestic in her
+mother's house, was, constrained to overcome all reluctance, and
+join her friend in the proposed visit of mercy.
+
+"Poor Mary! What a state she must be in!"
+
+Three or four times did Mrs. Caldwell repeat this sentence, as they
+walked towards that part of the town in which Mrs. Brady resided.
+"It makes me sick, at heart to think of it," she added.
+
+At last they stood at the door of a small brick house, in a narrow
+street, and knocked. Mrs. Caldwell dreaded to enter, and even shrank
+a little behind her friend when she heard a hand on the lock. It was
+Mary who opened the door--Mary Brady, with scarcely a sign of change
+in her countenance, except that it was a trifle paler.
+
+"O! Come in!" she said, a smile of pleasure brightening over her
+face. But Mrs. Caldwell could not smile in return. It seemed to her
+as if it would be a mockery of the trouble which had come down upon
+that humble dwelling.
+
+"How is your husband, Mary?" she asked with a solemn face, as soon
+as they had entered. "I only heard a little while ago of this
+dreadful occurrence."
+
+"Thank you, ma'am," replied Mrs. Brady, her countenance hardly
+falling to a serious tone in its expression. "He's quite comfortable
+to-day; and it's such a relief to see him out of pain. He suffered
+considerably through the night, but fell asleep just at day dawn,
+and slept for several hours. He awoke almost entirely free from
+pain."
+
+"There are no internal injuries, I believe," said Mrs. Bland.
+
+"None, the doctor says. And I'm so thankful. Broken bones are bad
+enough, and it is hard to see as kind and good a husband as I have
+suffer,"--Mary's eyes grew wet, "but they will knit and become strong
+again. When I think how much worse it might have been, I am
+condemned for the slightest murmur that escapes my lips."
+
+"What are you going to do, Mary?" asked Mrs. Caldwell. "Your husband
+won't be fit for work in a month, and you have a good many mouths to
+fill."
+
+"A woman's wit and a woman's will can do a great deal," answered
+Mrs. Brady, cheerfully. "You see"--pointing to a table, on which lay
+a bundle--"that I have already been to the tailor's for work. I'm a
+quick sewer, and not afraid but what I can earn sufficient to keep
+the pot boiling until John is strong enough to go to work again.
+'Where there's a will, there's a way,' Mrs. Caldwell. I've found
+that true so far, and I reckon it will be true to the end. John will
+have a good resting spell, poor man! And, dear knows, he's a right
+to have it, for he's worked hard, and with scarcely a holiday, since
+we were married."
+
+"Well, well, Mary," said Mrs. Caldwell, in manifest surprise, "you
+beat me out! I can't understand it. Here you are, under
+circumstances that I should call of a most distressing and
+disheartening nature, almost as cheerful as if nothing had happened.
+I expected to find you overwhelmed with trouble, but, instead, you
+are almost as tranquil as a June day."
+
+"The truth is," replied Mrs. Brady, drawing, almost for shame, a
+veil of sobriety over her face, "I've had no time to be troubled. If
+I'd given up, and set myself down with folded hands, no doubt I
+should have been miserable enough. But that isn't my way, you see.
+Thinking about what I shall do, and their doing it, keep me so well
+employed, that I don't get opportunity to look on the dark side of
+things. And what would be the use? There's always a bright side as
+well as a dark side, and I'm sure it's pleasant to be on the bright
+side, if we can get there; and always try to manage it, somehow."
+
+"Your secret is worth knowing, Mary," said Mrs. Bland.
+
+"There's no secret about it," answered the poor woman, "unless it be
+in always keeping busy. As I said just now, I've no time to be
+troubled, and so trouble, after knocking a few times at my door, and
+not gaining admittance, passes on to some other that stands ajar--and
+there are a great many such. The fact is, trouble don't like to
+crowd in among busy people, for they jostle her about, and never
+give her a quiet resting place, and so she soon departs, and creeps
+in among the idle ones. I can't give any better explanation, Mrs.
+Bland."
+
+"Nor, may be, could the wisest philosopher that lives," returned
+that lady.
+
+The two friends, after promising to furnish Mrs. Brady with an
+abundance of lighter and more profitable sewing than she had
+obtained at a clothier's, and saying and doing whatever else they
+felt to be best under the circumstances, departed. For the distance
+of a block they walked in silence. Mrs. Caldwell spoke first.
+
+"I am rebuked," she said; "rebuked, as well as instructed. Above all
+places in the world, I least expected to receive a lesson there."
+
+"Is it not worth remembering?" asked the friend.
+
+"I wish it were engraved in ineffaceable characters on my heart. Ah,
+what a miserable self-tormentor I have been! The door of my heart
+stand always ajar, as Mary said, and trouble comes gliding in that
+all times, without so much as a knock to herald his coming. I must
+shut and bar the door!"
+
+"Shut it, and bar it, my friend!" answered Mrs. Bland. "And when
+trouble knocks, say to her, that you are too busy with orderly and
+useful things--too earnestly at work in discharging dutiful
+obligations, in the larger sphere, which, by virtue of larger means,
+is yours to work in--to have any leisure for her poor companionship,
+and she will not tarry on your threshold. Throw to the winds such
+light causes of unhappiness as were suffered to depress you this
+morning, and they will be swept away like thistle down."
+
+"Don't speak of them. My cheek burns at the remembrance," said Mrs.
+Caldwell.
+
+They now stood at Mrs. Caldwell's door.
+
+"You will come in?"
+
+"No. The morning has passed, and I must return home."
+
+"When shall I see you?" Mrs. Caldwell grasped tightly her friends'
+hand.
+
+"In a day or two."
+
+"Come to-morrow, and help me to learn in this new book that has been
+opened. I shall need a wise and a patient teacher. Come, good, true,
+kind friend!"
+
+"Give yourself no time for trouble," said Mrs. Bland, with a tender,
+encouraging smile. "Let true thoughts and useful deeds fill all your
+hours. This is the first lesson. Well in the heart, and all the rest
+is easy."
+
+And so, Mrs. Caldwell found it. The new life she strove to lead, was
+easy just in the degree she lived in the spirit of this lesson, and
+hard just in the degree of her departure.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+IX.
+
+A GOOD NAME.
+
+
+
+
+
+TWO boys, named Jacob Peters and Ralph Gilpin were passing along
+Chestnut Street one evening about ten years ago, when one of them,
+stopped, and said,--
+
+"Come, Ralph, let us have some oysters. I've got a quarter." They
+were in front of an oyster-cellar.
+
+"No," replied Ralph, firmly. "I'm not going down there."
+
+"I didn't mean that we should get anything to drink," replied the
+other.
+
+"No matter: they sell liquor, and I don't wish to be seen in such a
+place."
+
+"That's silly," said Jacob Peters, speaking with some warmth. "It
+can't hurt you to be seen there. They sell oysters, and all we
+should go there for would be to buy oysters. Come along. Don't be
+foolish!" And Jacob grasped the arm of Ralph, and tried to draw him
+towards the refectory. But Ralph stood immovable.
+
+"What harm can it do?" asked Jacob.
+
+"It might do at great deal of harm."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"By hurting my good name."
+
+"I don't understand you."
+
+"I might be seen going in or coming out by some one who know me, and
+who might take it for granted that my visit, was for liquor."
+
+"Well, suppose he did? He would be wrong in his inference; and what
+need you care? A clear conscience, I have heard my uncle say, is
+better than any man's opinion, good or bad."
+
+"I prefer the clear conscience and the good opinion together, if I
+can secure both at the same time," said Ralph.
+
+"O, you're too afraid of other people's opinions," replied Jacob, in
+a sneering manner. "As for me, I'll try to do right and be right,
+and not bother myself about what people may think. Come, are you
+going to join me in a plate of oysters?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Very well. Good by. I'm sorry you're afraid to do right for fear
+somebody may think you're going to do wrong," and Jacob Peters
+descended to the oyster-cellar, while Ralph Gilpin passed on his way
+homeward. As Jacob entered the saloon he met a man who looked at him
+narrowly, and as Jacob thought, with surprise. He had seen this man
+before, but did not know his name.
+
+A few weeks afterwards, the two boys, who were neighbor, sat
+together planning a row-boat excursion on the Schuylkill.
+
+"We'll have Harry Elder, and Dick Jones, and Tom Forsyth," said
+Jacob.
+
+"No, not Tom Forsyth," objected Ralph.
+
+"Why not? He's a splendid rower."
+
+"I don't wish to be seen in his company," said Ralph. "He doesn't
+bear a good character."
+
+"O, well; that's nothing to us."
+
+"I think it is a great deal to us. We are judged by the company we
+keep."
+
+"Let people judge; who cares?" replied Jacob; "not I."
+
+"Well, I do, then," answered Ralph.
+
+"I hate to see a boy so 'fraid of a shadow as you are."
+
+"A tainted name is no shadow; but a real evil to be afraid of."
+
+"I don't see how our taking Tom Forsyth along is going to taint your
+name, or mine either."
+
+"He's a bad boy," Ralph firmly objected. "He uses profane language.
+You and I have both seen him foolish from drink. And we know that he
+was sent home from a good place, under circumstances that threw
+suspicion on his honesty. This being so, I am not going to be seen
+in his company. I think too much of my good name."
+
+"But, Ralph," urged Jacob, in a persuasive manner, "he's such a
+splendid rower. Don't be foolish about it; nobody'll see us. And we
+shall have such a grand time. I'll make him promise not to use a
+wicked word all day."
+
+"It's no use to talk, Jacob. I'm not going in company with Tom
+Forsyth if I never go boating."
+
+"You're a fool!" exclaimed Jacob, losing his temper.
+
+Ralph's face burned with anger, but he kept back the sharp words
+that sprung to his lips, and after a few moments said, with forced
+composure,--
+
+"There's no use in you're getting mad about it, Jacob. If you prefer
+Tom to me, very well. I haven't set my heart on going."
+
+"I've spoken to Tom already" said Jacob, cooling off a little. "And
+he's promised to go; so there's no getting away from it. I'm sorry
+you're so over nice."
+
+The rowing party came off, but Ralph was not of the number. As the
+boys were getting into the boat at Fairmount, Jacob noticed two or
+three men standing on the wharf; and on lifting his eyes to the face
+of one of them, he recognized the same individual who had looked at
+him so intently as he entered the oyster saloon. The man's eyes
+rested upon him for a few moments, and then turned to the boy, Tom
+Forsyth. Young Peters might have been mistaken, but he thought he
+saw on the man's face a look of surprise and disapprobation. Somehow
+or other he did not feel very comfortable in mind as the boat pushed
+off from shore. Who was this man? and why had he looked at him twice
+so intently, and with something of disapproval in his face?
+
+Jacob Peters was fifteen years old. He had left school a few weeks
+before, and his father was desirous of getting him into a large
+whole-sale house, on Market Street. A friend was acquainted with a
+member of the firm, and through his kind offices he hoped to make
+the arrangement. Some conversation had already taken place between
+the friend and merchant, who said they wished another lad in the
+store, but were very particular as to the character of their boys.
+The friend assured him that Jacob was a lad of excellent character;
+and depending on this assurance, a preliminary engagement had been
+made, Jacob was to go into the store just one week from the day on
+which he went on the boating excursion. Both his own surprise and
+that of his father may be imagined when a note came, saying that the
+firm in Market Street had changed its views in regard to a lad, and
+would not require the services of Jacob Peters.
+
+The father sent back a polite note, expressing regret at the change
+of view, and asking that his son should still be borne in mind, as
+he would prefer that situation for him to any other in the city.
+Jacob was the bearer of this note. When he entered the store, the
+first person he met was the man who looked at him so closely in the
+oyster saloon and on the wharf at Fairmount. Jacob handed him the
+note, which he opened and read, and then gave him cold bow.
+
+A glimpse of the truth passed through Jacob's mind. He had been
+misjudged, and here was the unhappy result. His good name had
+suffered, and yet he had done nothing actually wrong. But boys, like
+men, are judged by the company they keep and the places in which
+they are seen.
+
+"I'm going into a store next week," said Ralph Gilpin, to his friend
+Jacob, about a week afterwards.
+
+"Where?" asked Jacob.
+
+"On Market Street."
+
+"In what store?"
+
+"In A. & L.'s," replied Ralph.
+
+"O, no!" ejaculated Jacob, his face flushing, "not there!"
+
+"Yes," replied Ralph. "I'm going to A. & L.'s. Father got me the
+place. Don't you think I'm lucky? They're very particular about the
+boys they taking that store. Father says he considers their choice
+of me quite a compliment. I'm sure I feel proud enough about it."
+
+"Well, I think they acted very meanly," said Jacob, showing sonic
+anger. "They promised father that I should have the place."
+
+"Are you sure about that?" asked the young friend.
+
+"Certainly I am. I was to go there this week. But they sent father a
+note, saying they had changed their minds about a boy."
+
+"Perhaps," suggested Ralph, "it you were seen going into a drinking
+saloons or in company with Tom Forsyth. You remember what I said to
+you about preserving a good name."
+
+Jacob's face colored, and his eyes fell to the ground.
+
+"O, that's only your guess," he replied, tossing his head, and
+putting on an incredulous look; but he felt in his heart that the
+suggestion of Ralph was true.
+
+It was over six months before Jacob Peters was successful in getting
+a place, and then he had to go into a third-rate establishment,
+where the opportunity for advancement was small, and where his
+associates were not of the best character.
+
+The years passed on; and Ralph continued as careful as in the
+beginning to preserve a good name. He was not content simply with
+doing right; but felt that it was a duty to himself, and to all who
+might, in any way be dependent on him, to appear right also. He was,
+therefore, particular in regard to the company he kept and the
+places he visited. Jacob, on the, contrary, continued to let
+inclination rather than prudence govern him in these matters. His
+habits were probably as good as those of Ralph, and his business
+capacity fully equal. But he was not regarded with the same favor,
+for he was often seen in company with young men known to be of loose
+morals, and would occasionally, visit billiard-saloons,
+tenpin-alleys, and other places where men of disreputable character
+are found. His father, who observed Jacob closely, remonstrated with
+him occasionally as the boy advanced towards manhood; but Jacob put
+on an independent air, and replied that he went on the principle of
+being right with himself. "You can't," he would say, "keep free from
+misjudgment, do what you will. Men are always more inclined to think
+evil of each other than good. I do nothing that I'm ashamed of."
+
+So he continued to go where he pleased, and to associate with whom
+he pleased, not caring what people might say.
+
+It is no very easy thing for as young man to make his way in the
+world. All the avenues to success are thickly crowded with men of
+talent, industry, and energy, and many favorable circumstances must
+conspire to help him who gets very far in advance. Talent and
+industry are wanted in, business, but the passport of a good
+character must accompany them, or they cannot be made rightly
+available to their possessor. it is, therefore, of the first
+importance to preserved a good name, for this, if united with
+ability and industry, with double your chances of success in life;
+for men will put confidence in you beyond what they can in others,
+who do not stand so fairly in common estimation.
+
+In due time Ralph Gilpin and Jacob Peters entered the world as men,
+but not at equal advantage. They had learned the same business, and
+were both well acquainted with its details; but Ralph stood fairer
+in the eyes of business men, with whom he had come in contact,
+because he had been more careful about his reputation.
+
+While Jacob was twenty-three years of age, he was getting a salary
+of one thousand dollars a year; but this was too small a sum to meet
+the demands that had come upon him. His father, to whom he was
+tenderly attached, had lost his health and failed in business. In
+consequence of this, the burden of maintaining the family fell
+almost entirely on Jacob. It would not have been felt as a burden if
+his income had been sufficient for their support. But it was not,
+unless their comfortable style of living was changed, and all shrunk
+together in a smaller house. He had sisters just advancing towards
+womanhood, and for their sakes, particularly, did he regret the
+stern necessity that required a change.
+
+About this time, the death of a responsible clerk in the house of A.
+& L. left a vacancy to be filled, and as Jacob was in every way
+competent to take the position, which commanded a salary of eighteen
+hundred dollars he made application; Ralph Gilpin, who was a
+salesman in the house, said all that he could in Jacob's favor; but
+the latter had not been careful to preserve a good name, and this
+was against him. The place was one of trust, and the members of the
+firm, after considering the matter, decided adversely. Nothing as to
+fact was alleged or known. Not a word as to his conduct in life was
+said against him. But he had often been seen in company with young
+men who did not bear a solid reputation, and where doubt existed, it
+was not considered safe to employ him. So that good opportunity was
+lost--lost through his own fault.
+
+Poor Jacob felt gloomy and disappointed for a time; talked of
+"fate," "bad luck," and all that kind of nonsense, when the cause of
+his ill-success was to be attributed solely to an unwise disregard
+of appearances.
+
+"We shall have to remove," he said to his mother in a troubled way,
+after this disappointment. "If I had secured the situation at A. &
+L.'s all would have been well with us. But now nothing remains but
+to seek a humbler place to remain here will only involve us in debt;
+and that, above all things, we must avoid. I am sorry for Jane and
+Alice; but it can't be helped."
+
+His mother tried to answer cheerfully and hopefully: but her words
+did not dispel a single shadow from his mind. A few days after this,
+a gentleman said to Jacob Peters,--
+
+"I'll give you a hint of something that is coming in the way of good
+fortune. A gentleman, whose name I do not feel at liberty to
+mention, contemplates going into your business. He has plenty of
+capital, and wishes to unite himself with a young, active, and
+experienced man. Two or three have been thought of--you among the
+rest; find I believe it has been finally settled that Jacob Peters
+is to be the man. So let me congratulate you, my young friend, on
+this good fortune."
+
+And he grasped the hand of Jacob, and shook it warmly. From the vale
+of despondency, the young man was at once elevated to the
+mountain-top of hope, and felt, for a time, bewildered in prospect
+of the good fortune awaited him.
+
+Almost in that very hour the capitalist, to whom his friend
+referred, was in conversation with Mr. A., of the firm of A. & L.
+
+"I have about concluded to associate with myself in business young
+Jacob Peters," said the former; "but before coming to a final
+conclusion, I thought it best to ask your opinion in the matter. You
+know the young man?"
+
+"Yes," replied Mr. A., "I have known him in a business way for
+several years. We have considerable dealing with the house in which
+he is employed."
+
+"What do you think of him?"
+
+"He is a young man of decided business qualities."
+
+"So it appear's to me. And you think favorably of him?"
+
+"As to the business qualification I do," replied Mr. A., placing an
+emphasis on the word business.
+
+"Then you do not think favorably of him in some other respect?"
+
+Mr. A. was silent.
+
+"I hope," said the, other, "that you will speak out plainly. This is
+a matter, to me, of the first importance. If you know of any reason
+why I should not associate this young man with me in business I
+trust you will speak without reserve."
+
+Mr. A. remained silent for some moments, and then said,--
+
+"I feel considerably embarrassed in regard to this matter. I would
+on no account give a wrong impression in regard to the young man. He
+may be all right; is all right, perhaps; but--"
+
+"But what, sir?"
+
+"I have seen him in company with young men whose characters are not
+fair. And I have seen him entering into and coming out of places
+where it is not always safe to go."
+
+"Enough, sir, enough!" said the gentleman, emphatically, "The matter
+is settled. It may be all right with him, as you say. I hope it is.
+But he can never be a partner of mine. And now, passing from him, I
+wish to ask about another young man, who has been in my mind second
+to Peters. He is in your employment."
+
+"Ralph Gilpin, you mean."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"In every way unexceptionable. I can speak of him with the utmost
+confidence. He is right in all respects--right as to the business
+quality, right as to character, and right as to associations. You
+could not have a better man."
+
+"The matter is settled, then," replied the gentleman. "I will take
+Ralph Gilpin if neither you nor he objects."
+
+"There will be no objection on either side, I can answer for that,"
+said Mr. A., and the interview closed.
+
+From the mountain-top of hope, away down into the dark vale of
+despondency, passed Jacob Peters, when it was told him that Ralph
+Gilpin was to be a partner in the new firm which he had expected to
+enter.
+
+"And so nothing is left to us," he said to himself, in bitterness of
+spirit, "but go down, while others, no better than we are, move
+steadily upwards. Why should Ralph Gilpin be preferred before me? He
+has no higher ability nor stricter integrity. He cannot be more
+faithful, more earnest, or more active than I would have been in the
+new position. But I am set aside and he is taken. It is a bitter,
+bitter disappointment!"
+
+Three years have passed, and Ralph Gilpin is on the road to fortune,
+while Jacob Peters remains a clerk. And why? The one was careful of
+his good name; the other was not.
+
+My young reader, take the lesson to heart. Guard well your good
+name; and as name signifies quality, by all means guard your spirit,
+so that no evil thing enter there; and your good name shall be only
+the expression of your good quality.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+X.
+
+LITTLE LIZZIE.
+
+
+
+
+
+"IF they wouldn't let him have it!" said Mrs. Leslie, weeping. "O,
+if they wouldn't sell him liquor, there'd be no trouble! He's one of
+the best of men when he doesn't drink. He never brings liquor into
+the house; and he tries hard enough, I know, to keep sober, but he
+cannot pass Jenks's tavern."
+
+Mrs. Leslie was talking with a sympathizing neighbor, who responded,
+by saying, that she wished the tavern would burn down, and that, for
+her part, she didn't feel any too good to apply fire to the place
+herself. Mrs. Leslie sighed, and wiped away the tears with her
+checked apron.
+
+"It's hard, indeed, it is," she murmured, "to see a man like Jenks
+growing richer and richer every day out of the earnings of poor
+working-men, whose families are in want of bread. For every sixpence
+that goes over his counter some one is made poorer--to some heart is
+given a throb of pain."
+
+"It's a downright shame!" exclaimed the neighbor, immediately. "If I
+had my way with the lazy, good-for-nothing fellow, I'd see that he
+did something useful, if it was to break stone on the road. Were it
+my husband, instead of yours, that he enticed into his bar, depend
+on't he'd get himself into trouble."
+
+While this conversation was going on, a little girl, not over ten
+years of age, sat listening attentively. After a while she went
+quietly from the room, and throwing her apron over head, took her
+way, unobserved by her mother, down the road.
+
+Where was little Lizzie going? There was a purpose in her mind: She
+had started on a mission. "O, if they wouldn't sell him liquor!"
+These earnest, tearful words of her, mother had filled her thoughts.
+If Mr. Jenks wouldn't sell her father anything to drink, "there
+would be no more trouble." How simple, how direct the remedy! She
+would go to Mr. Jenks, and ask him not to let her father have any
+more liquor, and then all would be well again. Artless, innocent
+child! And this was her mission.
+
+The tavern kept by Jenks, the laziest man in Milanville,--he was too
+lazy to work, and therefore went to tavern-keeping,--stood nearly a
+quarter of a mile from the poor tenement occupied by the Leslies.
+Towards this point, under a hot, sultry sun, little Lizzie made her
+way, her mind so filled with its purpose that she was unconscious of
+heat of fatigue.
+
+Not long before a traveller alighted at the tavern. After giving
+directions to have his horses fed, he entered the bar-room, and went
+to where Jenks stood, behind the counter.
+
+"Have something to drink?" inquired the landlord.
+
+"I'll take a glass of water, if you please."
+
+Jenks could not hide the indifference at once felt towards the
+stranger. Very deliberately he set a pitcher and a glass upon the
+counter, and then turned partly away. The stranger poured out a
+tumbler of water, and drank it off with an air of satisfaction.
+
+"Good water, that of yours, landlord," said he.
+
+"Is it?" was returned, somewhat uncourteously.
+
+"I call it good water--don't you?"
+
+"Never drink water by itself." As Jenks said this, he winked to one
+of his good customers, who was lounging, in the bar. "In fact, it's
+so long since I drank any water, that I forgot how it tastes. Don't
+you, Leslie?"
+
+The man, to whom this was addressed, was not so far lost to shame as
+Jenks. He blushed and looked confused, as he replied,--
+
+"It might be better for some of us if we had not lost our relish for
+pure water."
+
+"A true word spoken, my friend!" said the stranger, turning to the
+man, whose swollen visage, and patched, threadbare garments, too
+plainly told the story of his sad life. "'Water, pure water, bright
+water;' that is my motto. It never swells the face, nor inflames the
+eyes, nor mars the countenance. Its attendants are health, thrift,
+and happiness. It takes not away the children's bread, nor the
+toiling wife's garments. Water!--it is one of God's chiefest
+blessings! Our friend, the landlord here, says he has forgotten how
+it tastes; and you have lost all relish for the refreshing draught!
+Ah, this is a sad confession!--one which the angels might weep to
+hear!"
+
+There were two or three customers in the bar besides Leslie, to whom
+this was addressed; and all of them, in spite of the landlord's
+angry and sneering countenance, treated the stranger with attention
+and respect. Seeing this, Jenks could not restrain himself; so,
+coming from behind his bar, he advanced to his side, and, laying his
+hand quite rudely on his shoulder, said, in a peremptory manner,--
+
+"See here, my friend! If you are about making a temperance lecture,
+you can adjourn to the Town Hall or the Methodist Chapel."
+
+The stranger moved aside a pace or two, so that the hand of Jenks
+might fall from his person, and then said, mildly,--
+
+"There must be something wrong here if a man may not speak in praise
+of water without giving offense."
+
+"I said you could adjourn your lecture!" The landlord's face was now
+fiery red, and he spoke with insolence and passion.
+
+"O, well, as you are president of the meeting, I suppose we must let
+you exercise an arbitrary power of adjournment," said the stranger,
+good-humoredly. "I didn't think any one had so strong a dislike for
+water as to consider its praise an insult."
+
+At this moment a child stepped into the bar-room. Her little face
+was flushed, and great beads of perspiration were slowly moving down
+her crimson cheeks. Her step was elastic, her manner earnest, and
+her large, dark eyes bright with an eager purpose. She glanced
+neither to the right nor the left, but walking up to the landlord,
+lifted to him her sweet young face, and said, in tones that thrilled
+every heart but his,--
+
+"Please, Mr. Jenks, don't sell papa any more liquor!"
+
+"Off home with you, this instant!" exclaimed Jenks, the crimson of
+his face deepening to a dark purple. As he spoke, he advanced
+towards the child, with his hand uplifted in a threatening attitude.
+
+"Please don't, Mr. Jenks," persisted the child, not moving from
+where she stood, nor taking her eyes front the landlord's
+countenance. "Mother says, if you wouldn't sell him liquor, there'd
+be no trouble. He's kind and good to us all when he doesn't drink."
+
+"Off, I say!" shouted Jenks, now maddened beyond self-control; and
+his hand was about descending upon the little one, when the stranger
+caught her in his arms, exclaiming, as he did so, with deep
+emotion,--
+
+"God bless the child! No, no, precious one!" he added; "don't fear
+him. Plead for your father--plead for your home. Your petition must
+prevail! He cannot say nay to one of the little ones, whose angels
+do always behold the face of their Father in heaven. God bless the
+child!" added the stranger, in a choking voice. "O, that the father,
+for whom she has come on this touching errand, were present now! If
+there were anything of manhood yet left in his nature, this would
+awaken it from its palsied sleep."
+
+"Papa! O, papa!" now cried the child, stretching forth her hands. In
+the next moment she was clinging to the breast of her father, who,
+with his arms clasped tightly around her, stood weeping and mingling
+his tears with those now raining from the little one's eyes.
+
+What an oppressive stillness pervaded that room! Jenks stood subdued
+and bewildered, his state of mental confusion scarcely enabling him
+to comprehend the full import of the scene. The stranger looked on
+wonderingly, yet deeply affected. Quietly, and with moist eyes, the
+two or three drinking customers who had been lounging in the bar,
+went stealthily out; and the landlord, the stranger and the father
+and his child, were left the only inmates of the room.
+
+"Come, Lizzie, dear! This is no place for us," said Leslie, breaking
+the deep silence. "We'll go home."
+
+And the unhappy inebriate took his child by the hand, and led her
+towards the door. But the little one held back.
+
+"Wait, papa; wait!" she said. "He hasn't promised yet. O, I wish he
+would promise!"
+
+"Promise her, in Heaven's name!" said the stranger.
+
+"Promise!" said Leslie, in a stern yet solemn voice, as he turned
+and fixed his eyes upon the landlord.
+
+"If I do promise, I'll keep it!" returned Jenks, in a threatening
+tone, as he returned the gaze of Leslie.
+
+"Then, for God's sake, _promise!_" exclaimed Leslie, in a
+half-despairing voice. "_Promise, and I'm safe!_"
+
+"Be it so! May I be cursed, if ever I sell you a drop of drinking at
+this bar, while I am landlord of the 'Stag and Hounds'!" Jenks spoke
+with with an angry emphasis.
+
+"God be thanked!" murmured the poor drunkard, as he led his child
+away. "God be thanked! There is hope for me yet."
+
+Hardly had the mother of Lizzie missed her child, ere she entered,
+leading her father by the hand.
+
+"O, mother!" she exclaimed, with a joy-lit countenance, and in a
+voice of exultation, "Mr. Jenks has promised."
+
+"Promised what?" Hope sprung up in her heart, on wild and fluttering
+wings, her face flushed, and then grew deadly pale. She sat panting
+for a reply.
+
+"That he would never sell me another glass of liquor," said her
+husband.
+
+A pair of thin, white hands were clasped quickly together, an ashen
+face was turned upwards, tearless eyes looked their thankfulness to
+heaven.
+
+"There is hope yet, Ellen," said Leslie.
+
+"Hope, hope! And O, Edward, you have said the word!"
+
+"Hope, through our child. Innocence has prevailed over vice and
+cruelty. She came to the strong, evil, passionate man, and, in her
+weakness and innocence, prevailed over him. God made her fearless
+and eloquent."
+
+A year afterwards a stranger came again that way, and stopped at the
+"Stag and Hounds." As before, Jenks was behind his well-filled bar,
+and drinking customers came and went in numbers. Jenks did not
+recognize him until he called for water, and drank a full tumbler of
+the pure liquor with a hearty zest. Then he knew him, but feigned to
+be ignorant of his identity. The stranger made no reference to the
+scene he had witnessed there a twelvemonth before, but lingered in
+the bar for most of the day, closely observing every one that came
+to drink. Leslie was not among the number.
+
+"What has become of the man and the little girl I saw here, at my
+last visit to Milanville?" said the stranger, speaking at last to
+Jenks.
+
+"Gone to the devil, for all I care," was the landlord's rude answer,
+as he turned off from his questioner.
+
+"For all you care, no doubt," said the stranger to himself. "Men
+often speak their real thoughts in a passion."
+
+"Do you see that little white cottage away off there, just at the
+edge of the wood? Two tall poplars stand in front."
+
+Thus spoke to the stranger one who had heard him address the
+landlord.
+
+"I do. What of it?" he answered.
+
+"The man you asked for lives there."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"And what is more, if he keeps on as he has begun, the cottage will
+be all his own in another year. Jenks, here, doesn't feel any good
+blood for him, as you may well believe. A poor man's prosperity is
+regarded as so much loss to him. Leslie is a good mechanic--one of
+the best in Milanville. He can earn twelve dollars a week, year in
+and year out. Two hundred dollars he has already paid on his
+cottage; and as he is that much richer, Jenks thinks himself just so
+much poorer; for all this surplus, and more too, would have gone
+into his till, if Leslie had not quit drinking."
+
+"Aha! I see! Well, did Leslie, as you call him, ever try to get a
+drink here, since the landlord promised never to let him have
+another drop?"
+
+"Twice to my knowledge."
+
+"And he refused him?"
+
+"Yes. If you remember, he said, in his anger, '_May I be cursed_, if
+I sell him another drop.'"
+
+"I remember it very well."
+
+"That saved poor Leslie. Jenks is superstitious in some things. He
+wanted to get his custom again,--for it was well worth having,--and he
+was actually handing him the bottle one day, when I saw it, and
+reminded him of his self-imprecation. He hesitated, looked
+frightened, withdrew the bottle from the counter, and then, with
+curses, drove Leslie from his bar-room, threatening, at the same
+time, to horsewhip him if ever he set a foot over his threshold
+again."
+
+"Poor drunkards!" mused the stranger, as he rode past the neat
+cottage of the reformed man a couple of hours afterwards. "As the
+case now stands, you are only saved as by fire. All law, all
+protection, is on the side of those who are engaged in enticing you
+into sin, and destroying you, body and soul. In their evil work,
+they have free course. But for you, unhappy wretches, after they
+have robbed you of worldly goods, and even manhood itself, are
+provided prisons and pauper homes! And for your children,"--a dark
+shadow swept over the stranger's face, and a shudder went through
+his frame. "Can it be, a Christian country in which I live, and such
+things darken the very sun at noonday!" he added as he sprung his
+horse into a gallop and rode swiftly onward.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+XI.
+
+ALICE AND THE PIGEON.
+
+
+
+
+
+ONE evening in winter as Alice, a dear little girl whom everybody
+loved, pushed aside the curtains of her bedroom window, she saw the
+moon half hidden by great banks of clouds, and only a few stars
+peeping out here and there. Below, the earth lay dark, and cold. The
+trees looked like great shadows.
+
+There was at change in her sweet face as she let fall the curtain
+and turned from the window.
+
+"Poor birds!" she said.
+
+"They are all safe," answered her mother, smiling. "God has provided
+for every bird a place of rest and shelter, and each one knows where
+it is and how to find it. Not many stay here in the winter time, but
+fly away to the sunny south, where the air is warm and the trees
+green and fruitful."
+
+"God is very good," said the innocent child. Then she knelt with
+folded hands, and prayed that her heavenly further would bless
+everybody, and let his angels take care of her while she slept. Her
+mother's kiss was still warm upon her lips as she passed into the
+world of pleasant dreams.
+
+In the morning, when Alice again pushed back the curtains from her
+window, what a sight of wonder and beauty met her eyes! Snow had
+fallen, and everything wore a garment of dazzling whiteness. In the
+clear blue sky, away in the cast, the sun was rising; and as his
+beams fell upon the fields, and trees, and houses, every object
+glittered as if covered all over with diamonds.
+
+But only for a moment or two did Alice look upon this beautiful
+picture, for a slight movement drew her eyes to a corner of the
+window-sill, on the outside, and there sat a pigeon close against
+the window-pane, with its head drawn down and almost hidden among
+the feathers, and its body shivering with cold. The pigeon did not
+seem to be afraid of her, though she saw its little pink eyes
+looking right into her own.
+
+"O, poor, dear bird!" she said in soft, pitying tones, raising the
+window gently, so that it might not be frightened away. Then she
+stepped back and waited to see if the bird would not come in. Pigeon
+raised its brown head in a half scared away; turned it to this side
+and to that; and after looking first at the, comfortable chamber and
+then away at the snow-covered earth, quietly hopped upon the sill
+inside. Next he flew upon the back of a chair, and then down upon
+the floor.
+
+"Little darling," said Alice, softly. Then she dressed herself
+quickly, and went down stairs for some crumbs of bread, which she
+scattered on the floor. The pigeon picked them up, with scarcely a
+sign of fear.
+
+As soon as he had eaten up all the crumbs, he flew back towards the
+window and resting on the sill, swelled his glossy throat and cooed
+his thanks to his little friend. After which darted away, the
+morning sunshine glancing from wings.
+
+A feeling of disappointment crept into the heart of Alice as the
+bird swept out of sight. "Poor little darling!" she sighed. "If he
+had only known how kind I would have been, and how safe he was here,
+what nice food and pure water would have been given, he wouldn't
+have flown away."
+
+When Alice told about the visit of pigeon, at breakfast time, a
+pleasant surprise was felt by all at the table. And they talked of,
+doves and wood-pigeons, her father telling her once or two nice
+stories, with which she was delighted. After breakfast, her mother
+took a volume from the library containing Willis's exquisite poem,
+"The little Pigeon," and gave it to Alice to read. She soon knew it
+all by heart.
+
+A great many times during the day Alice stood at the open door, or
+looked from the windows, in hope of seeing the pigeon again. On a
+distant house-top, from which the snow had been melted or blown
+away, or flying through the air, she would get sight of a bird now
+and then; but she couldn't tell whether or not it was the white and
+brown pigeon she had sheltered and fed in the morning. But just
+before sundown, as she stood by the parlor window, a cry of joy fell
+from her lips. There was the pigeon sitting on a fence close by, and
+looking, it seemed to her, quite forlorn.
+
+Alice threw open the window, and then ran into the kitchen for some
+crumbs of bread. When she came back, pigeon was still on the fence.
+Then she called to him, holding out her her hand scattering a few
+crumbs on the window-sill. The bird was hungry and had sharp eyes,
+and when he saw Alice he no doubt remembered the nice meal she had
+given him in the morning, in a few moments he flew to the window,
+but seemed half afraid. So Alice stood a little back in the room,
+when he began to pick up the crumbs. Then she came nearer and
+nearer, holding out her hand that was full of crumbs, and as soon as
+pigeon had picked up all that was on the sill, he took the rest of
+his evening meal from the dear little girl's hand. Every now and
+then he would stop and look up at his kind friend, as much as to
+say, "Thank you for my nice supper. You are so good!" When he had
+eaten enough, he cooed a little, bobbed his pretty head, and then
+lifted his wings and flew away.
+
+He did not come back again. At first Alice, was disappointed, but
+this soon wore off, and only a feeling of pleasure remained.
+
+"I would like so much to see him and feed him," she said. "But I
+know he's better off and happier at his own home, with a nice place
+to sleep in and plenty to eat, than sitting on a window-sill all
+night in a snow storm." And then she would say over that sweet poem,
+"The City Pigeon," which her mother had given her to get by heart.
+Here it is, and I hope every one of my little readers will get it by
+heart also:--
+
+"Stoop to my window, thou beautiful dove!
+Thy daily visits have touched my love.
+I watch thy coming, and list the note
+That stirs so low in thy mellow throat,
+And my joy is high
+To catch the glance of thy gentle eye.
+
+"Why dost thou sit on the heated eaves,
+And forsake the wood with its freshened leaves?
+Why dost thou haunt the sultry street,
+When the paths of the forest are cool and sweet?
+How canst thou bear
+This noise of people--this sultry air?
+
+"Thou alone of the feathered race
+Dost look unscared on the human face;
+Thou alone, with a wing to flee,
+Dost love with man in his haunts to be;
+And the 'gentle dove'
+Has become a name for trust and love.
+
+"A holy gift is thine, sweet bird!
+Thou'rt named with childhood's earliest word!
+Thou'rt linked with all that is fresh and wild
+In the prisoned thoughts of the city child;
+And thy glossy wings
+Are its brightest image of moving things.
+
+"It is no light chance. Thou art set apart,
+Wisely by Him who has tamed thy heart,
+To stir the love for the bright and fair
+That else were sealed in this crowded air
+I sometimes dream
+Angelic rays front thy pinions stream.
+
+"Come then, ever, when daylight leaves
+The page I read, to my humble eaves,
+And wash thy breast in the hollow spout,
+And murmur thy low sweet music out!
+I hear and see
+Lessons of heaven, sweet bird, in thee!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+DRESSED FOR A PARTY.
+
+
+
+
+
+A LADY sat reading. She was so absorbed in her book as to be nearly
+motionless. Her face, in repose, was serious, almost sad; for twice
+a score of years had not passed without leaving the shadow of a
+cloud or the mark of a tempest. The door opened, and, as she looked
+up, pleasant smile lay softly on her lips. A beautiful girl,
+elegantly attired for an evening party, came in.
+
+"All ready?" said the lady, closing her volume, and looking at the
+maiden with a lively interest, that blended thoughtfulness with
+affection.
+
+"All ready," aunt Helen. "And now what do you think of me? What is
+the effect?" Tone, expression, and manner, all gave plainly enough
+speaker's own answer to her questions. She thought the make up
+splendid--the effect striking.
+
+"Shall I say just what I think, Alice?"
+
+A thin veil of shadows fell over the bright young countenance.
+
+"Love will speak tenderly. But even tenderly-spoken things, not
+moving with the current of our feelings, are not pleasant to hear."
+
+"Say on, aunt Helen. I can listen to anything from you. You think me
+overdressed. I see it in your eyes."
+
+"You have read my thought correctly, dear."
+
+"In what particular am I overdressed? Nothing could be simpler than
+a white illusion."
+
+"Without an abundance of pink trimming, it would be simple and
+becoming enough. Your dressmaker has overloaded it with ribbon; at
+least, so it appears to me. But, passing that let me suggest a
+thought touching those two heavy bracelets. One, on the exposed arm,
+is sufficiently attractive. Two will create the impression that you
+are weakly fond of ornament; and in the eyes of every one who feels
+this, the effect of your dress will be marred. Men and women see
+down into our states of feeling with wonderful quick intuitions, and
+read us while we are yet ignorant in regard to ourselves."
+
+Alice unclasped, with a faint sigh, one of the bracelets, and laid
+it on her aunt's bureau.
+
+"Is that better?" she asked.
+
+"I think so."
+
+"But the arm is so naked, aunt. It wants something, just for
+relief."
+
+"To me the effect would be improved if arms and neck were covered.
+But, as it is, if you think something required to draw attention
+from the bare skin, let one ornament be the most simple in your
+jewel box. You have a bracelet of hair, with neat mountings. Take
+that."
+
+Alice stood for a while pondering her aunt's suggestion. Then, with
+half-forced cheerfulness of tone, she answered,--
+
+"May be you're right, I'll take the hair bracelets instead. And now,
+what else?"
+
+"The critic's task is never for me a pleasant one, Alice. Least
+pleasant when it touches one I love. If you had not asked what I
+thought of your appearance, I would have intruded no exceptions. I
+have been much in society since I was very young, and have always
+been an observer. Two classes of women, I notice, usually make up
+the staple of our social assemblages: those who consult taste in
+dress, and those who study effect; those who think and appreciate,
+and those who court admiration. By sensible people,--and we need not
+pay much regard to the opinion of others,--these two classes are well
+understood, and estimated at their real value."
+
+"It is quite plain, aunt Helen," said Alice, her color much
+heightened, "that you have set me over to the side of those who
+study effect and court admiration."
+
+"I think you are in danger of going over to that side, my dear," was
+gently answered, "and I love you too well not to desire something
+better for my niece. Turn your thought inward and get down, if
+possible, to your actual state of mind. Why have you chosen this
+very effective style of dress? It is not in good taste--even you, I
+think, will agree with me so far."
+
+"Not in good taste, aunt Helen!"
+
+"A prima donna, or a ballet--"
+
+"How, aunt!" Alice made a quick interruption.
+
+"You see, my child, how I am affected. Let me say it out in plain
+words--your appearance, when, you came in a few minutes ago actually
+shocked me."
+
+"Indeed, indeed, aunt Helen, you are too severe in your tastes! We
+are not Friends."
+
+"You are not going in the character of a May queen, Alice, that you
+should almost hide your beautiful hair in ribbons and flowers. A
+stiff bouquet in a silver holder is simply an impediment, and does
+not give a particle of true womanly grace. That necklace of pearls,
+if half hidden among soft laces, would be charming; but banding the
+uncovered neck and half-exposed chest, it looks bald, inharmonious,
+and out of place. White, with a superfluity of pink trimming,
+jewelry and flowers, I call on the outside of good taste; and if you
+go as you are, you will certainly attract all eyes, but I am sure
+you will not win admiration for these things from a single heart
+whose regard is worth having. Don't be hurt with me, Alice. I am
+speaking with all love and sincerity, and from a wider experience
+and observation than it is possible for you to have reached. Don't
+go as you are, if you can possibly make important changes. What time
+is left?"
+
+Alice stood silent, with a clouded face. Her aunt looked at her
+watch.
+
+"There is a full half hour. You may do much in that time. But you
+had best refer to your mother. Her taste and mine may not entirely
+accord."
+
+"O, as to that, mother is on your side. But she is always so plain
+in her notions," said Alice, with a slight betrayal of impatience.
+
+"A young lady will always be safest in society, Alice--always more
+certain to make a good impression, if she subordinate her love of
+dress and ornament as much as possible to her mother's taste. In
+breaking away from this, my dear, you have gone over to an extreme
+that, if persisted in, will class you with vain lovers of
+admiration; with mere show girls, who, conscious of no superior
+moral and mental attractions, seek to win by outward charms. Be not
+of them, dear Alice, but of the higher class, whose minds are
+clothed in beautiful garments whose loveliest and most precious
+things are, like jewels, shut within a casket."
+
+Alice withdrew, silent, almost hurt, though not offended, and more
+than half resolved to give up the party. But certainly recollections
+checked this forming resolve before it reached a state of full
+decision.
+
+"How will this do?" She pushed open the door of her aunt's room half
+an hour afterwards with this sentence on her lips. Her cheeks were
+glowing, and her eyes full of sparkles. So complete was the change,
+that for a brief space the aunt gazed at her wonderingly. She wore a
+handsome fawn-colored silk, made high in the neck, around which was
+a narrow lace collar of exceeding fineness, pinned with a single
+diamond. A linked band of gold, partly hidden by the lace
+undersleeve, clasped one of her wrists. A small spray of pearls and
+silver formed the only ornament for her hair, and nestled,
+beautifully contrasted among its dark and glossy braids.
+
+"Charming!" replied aunt Helen, in no feigned admiration. "In my
+eyes you are a hundred times more attractive than you were, a little
+while ago, and will prove more attractive to all whose favor is
+worth the winning." And she arose and kissed her nice lovingly.
+
+"I am not overdressed." Alice smiled.
+
+"Better underdressed than overdressed, always, my dear, If there is
+any fault, it is on the right side."
+
+"I am glad you are pleased, aunt Helen."
+
+"Are you not better pleased with yourself?" was asked.
+
+"I can't just say that, aunt. I've worn this dress in company
+several times, and it's very plain."
+
+"It is very becoming, dear; and we always appear to best advantage
+in that which most accords with our style of person and complexion.
+To my eyes, in this more simple yet really elegant apparel, you look
+charming. Before, you impressed me with a sense of vulgarity; now,
+the impression, is one of refinement."
+
+"Thank you for such flattering words, aunt Helen. I will accept the
+pictures in your eyes as justly contrasted. Of one thing I am sure,
+I shall feel more at ease, and less conscious of observation, than
+would have been the case had I gone in my gayer attire. Good
+evening. It is growing late, and I must be away."
+
+The maiden stooped, and kissed her aunt affectionately.
+
+"Good evening, dear, and may the hours be pleasant ones."
+
+When Alice entered the drawing-room, where the company were
+assembling her eyes were almost dazzled with the glitter of jewelry
+and the splendor of colors. Most of the ladies present seemed
+ambitious of display, emulous of ornament. She felt out of place, in
+her grave and simple costume, and moved to a part of the room where
+she would be away from observation. But her eyes were soon wandering
+about, scanning forms and faces, not from simple curiosity, but with
+an interest that was visible in her countenance. She looked for the
+presence of one who had been, of late, much in her thoughts: of one
+for whose eyes, more than for the eyes of any other, she apparelled
+herself with that studied effect which received so little approval
+from her aunt Helen. Alice felt sober. If she entertained doubts
+touching her change of dress they were gone now. Plainly, to her
+convictions, aunt Helen was wrong and she had been wrong in yielding
+her own best judgement of the case.
+
+Alice had been seated only for a little while, when she saw the
+young man to whom we have just referred. He was standing at the
+extreme end of the room, talking in a lively manner with a
+gayly-dressed girl, who seemed particularly pleased with his
+attentions. Beside her Alice would have seemed almost Quaker-like in
+plainness. And Alice felt this with something like a pang. Soon they
+passed across the room, approaching very near, and stood within a
+few feet of her for several minutes. Then they moved away, and sit
+down together not far off, still chatting in the lively manner at
+first observed. Once or twice the young man appeared to look
+directly at Alice, but no sign of recognition was visible on his
+face.
+
+After the first emotions of disappointment in not being recognized
+had subsided, the thoughts of Alice began to lift her out of the
+state in much she bad been resting.
+
+"If fine feathers make the fine bird," she said to herself, "let him
+have the gay plumage. As for me, I ask a higher estimate. So I will
+be content."
+
+With the help of pride she rose above the weakness that was
+depressing her. A lady friend joined her at the moment, and she was
+soon interested in conversation.
+
+"Excuse me for a personal reference, Alice," said this friend in a
+familiar way, "and particularly for speaking of dress. But the fact
+is, you shame at least one half of us girls by your perfect
+subordination of everything to good taste. I never saw you so
+faultlessly attired in my life."
+
+"The merit, if there is any," replied Alice, "is not mine. I was
+coming like a butterfly, but my aunt Helen, who is making us a
+visit, objected so strongly that I took off my party dress and
+head-dress, made for the occasion, and, in a fit of half-don't-care
+desperation, got myself up after this modest fashion that you are
+pleased to call in such good taste."
+
+"Make your aunt Helen my compliments, and say to her that I wish she
+were multiplied a thousands times. You will be the belle to-night,
+if there are many sensible man present. Ah, there comes Mr. Benton!"
+At this name the heart of Alice leaped. "He has spied you out
+already. You are the attraction, of course, not me."
+
+Mr. Benton, who had been, of late, so much in her thought, now stood
+bowing before the two young ladies, thus arresting their
+conversation. The last speaker was right. Alice had drawn him across
+the room, as was quickly apparent, for to her alone he was soon
+addressing himself. To quite the extent allowable in good breeding,
+was Alice monopolized by Mr. Benton during the evening and when he
+left her, with scarcely-concealed reluctance, another would take his
+place, and enjoy the charm of her fine intelligence.
+
+"Have you been introduced to Alice T----?" she heard one gentleman ask
+of another, as she stood near a window opening into the
+conservatory, and partly hidden by curtains.
+
+"Yes," was the answer.
+
+"She is a pleasant girl."
+
+"By odds the most charming I have met to-night. And then she has had
+the good taste to dress in a modest, womanly manner. How beautifully
+she contrasts with a dozen I could name, all radiant with colors as
+a bed of tulips."
+
+She heard no more. But this was enough.
+
+"You had a pleasant evening judging from your face," said aunt
+Helen, when she meet her niece on the next morning.
+
+"Yes; it was a very pleasant one--very pleasant." Her color deepened
+and her eyes grew brighter.
+
+"You were not neglected on account of you attractive style of
+dress?"
+
+"Judging from the attentions I received, it must have been very
+attractive. A novelty, perhaps. You understand human nature better
+than I do, aunt Helen."
+
+"Was it the plainest in the room?"
+
+"It was plainer than that of half a dozen ladies old enough to have
+grandchildren."
+
+The aunt smiled.
+
+"Then it has not hurt your prospects?"
+
+The question was in jest; but aunt Helen saw instantly into the
+heart of her niece. For a moment their eyes lingered in each other;
+then Alice looked down upon the floor.
+
+"No it has not hurt my prospects." The answer was in a softer voice,
+and then followed a long-drawn inspiration, succeeded by the
+faintest of sighs.
+
+A visit from Mr. Benton, on the next evening, removed all doubt from
+the dress question, if any remained.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+XIII.
+
+COFFEE vs. BRANDY.
+
+
+
+
+
+"WE shall have to give them a wedding party," said Mrs. Eldridge to
+her husband.
+
+Mr. Eldridge assented.
+
+"They will be home to-morrow, and I think of sending out of
+invitations for Thursday."
+
+"As you like about that," replied Mr. Eldridge. "The trouble will be
+yours."
+
+"You have no objections?"
+
+"O, none in the world. Fanny is a good little girl, and the least we
+can do is to pay her this compliment on her marriage. I am not
+altogether satisfied about her husband, however; he was rather a
+wild sort of a boy a year or two ago."
+
+"I guess he's all right now," remarked Mrs. Eldridge; "and he
+strikes me as a very kind-hearted, well-meaning young man. I have
+flattered myself that Fanny has done quite well as the average run
+of girls."
+
+"Perhaps so," said Mr. Eldridge, a little thoughtfully.
+
+"Will you be in the neighborhood of Snyder's?" inquired the lady.
+
+"I think not. We are very busy just now, and I shall hardly have
+time to leave the store to-day. But I can step around there
+to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow, or even the next day, will answer," replied Mrs.
+Eldridge. "You must order the liquors. I will attend to everything
+else."
+
+"How many are you going to invite?" inquired Mr. Eldridge.
+
+"I have not made out a list yet, but it will not fall much short of
+seventy or eighty."
+
+"Seventy or eighty!" repeated Mr. Eldridge.
+
+"Let me see. Three dozen of champagne; a dozen of sherry; a dozen of
+port; a dozen of hock, and a gallon of brandy,--that will be enough
+to put life into them I imagine."
+
+"Or death!" Mrs. Eldridge spoke to herself, in an undertone.
+
+Her husband, if he noticed the remark, did not reply to it, but
+said, "Good morning," and left the house. A lad about sixteen years
+of age sat in the room during this conversation, with a book in his
+hand and his eyes on the page before him. He did not once look up or
+move; and an observer would have supposed him so much interested in
+his book as not to have heard the passing conversation. But he had
+listened to every word. As soon as Mr. Eldridge left the room his
+book fell upon his lap, and looking towards Mrs. Eldridge, he said,
+in an earnest but respectful manner,--
+
+"Don't have any liquor, mother."
+
+Mrs s Eldridge looked neither offended nor irritated by this
+remonstrance, as she replied,--
+
+"I wish it were possible to avoid having liquor, my son; but it is
+the custom of society and if we give a party it must be in the way
+it is done by other people."
+
+This did not satisfy the boy, who had been for some time associated
+with the Cadets of Temperance, and he answered, but with modesty and
+great respect of, manner,--"If other people do wrong, mother--what
+then?"
+
+"I am not so sure of its being wrong, Henry."
+
+"O, but mother," spoke out the boy, quickly, "if it hurts people to
+drink, it must be wrong to give them liquor. Now I've been thinking
+how much better it would be to have a nice cup of coffee. I am sure
+that four out of five would like it a great deal better than wine or
+brandy. And nobody could possibly receive any harm. Didn't you hear
+what father said about Mr. Lewis? That he had been rather wild? I am
+sure I shall never forget seeing him stagger in the street once. I
+suppose he has reformed. But just think, if the taste should be
+revived again and at our house, and he should become intoxicated at
+this wedding party! O, mother! It makes me feel dreadfully to think
+about it. And dear Cousin Fanny! What sorrow it would bring to her!"
+
+"O, dear, Henry! Don't talk in that kind of a way! You make me
+shudder all over. You're getting too much carried away by this
+subject of temperance"
+
+And Mrs. Eldridge left the room to look after her domestic duties.
+But she could not push from her mind certain uneasy thoughts which
+her son's suggestions had awakened. During the morning an intimate
+lady friend came in to whom Mrs. Eldridge spoke of the intended
+party.
+
+"And would you believe it," she said, "that old-fashioned boy of
+mine actually proposed that we should have coffee instead of wine
+and brandy."
+
+"And you're going to adopt the suggestion," replied the lady, her
+face lighten up with a pleasant smile.
+
+"It would suit my own views exactly; but then such an innovation
+upon a common usage as that; is not to be thought of for a moment."
+
+"And why not?" asked the lady. "Coffee is safe, while wine and
+brandy are always dangerous in promiscuous companies. You can never
+tell in what morbid appetite you may excite an unhealthy craving.
+You may receive into your house a young man with intellect clear,
+and moral purposes well-balanced, and send him home at midnight, to
+his mother, stupid from intoxication! Take your son's advice, my
+friend. Exclude the wine and brandy, and give a pleasant cup of
+coffee to your guests instead."
+
+"O, dear, no, I can't do that!" said Mrs. Eldridge. "It would look
+as if we were too mean to furnish wines and brandy. Besides, my
+husband would never consent to it."
+
+"Let me give you a little experience of my own. It may help you to a
+right decision in this case."
+
+The lady spoke with some earnestness, and a sober cast of thought in
+her countenance. "It is now about three years since I gave a large
+party, at which a number of young men were present,--boys I should
+rather say. Among these was the son of an old and very dear friend.
+He was in his nineteenth year,--a handsome, intelligent, and most
+agreeable person--full of life and pleasant humor. At supper time I
+noticed him with a glass of champagne in his hand, gayly talking
+with some ladies. In a little while after, my eyes happening to rest
+on him, I saw him holding, a glass of port wine to his lips, which
+was emptied at a single draught. Again passing near him, in order to
+speak to a lady, I observed a tumbler in his hand, and knew the
+contents to be brandy and water. This caused me to feel some
+concern, and I kept him, in closer observation. In a little while he
+was at the table again, pouring out another glass of wine. I thought
+it might be for a lady upon whom he was in attendance; but no, the
+sparkling liquor touched his own lips. When the company returned to
+the parlors, the flushed face, swimming eyes, and over-hilarious
+manner of my young friend, showed too plainly that he had been
+drinking to excess. He was so much excited as to attract the
+attention of every one, and his condition became the subject of
+remark. He was mortified and distressed at the occurrence, and
+drawing him from the room, made free to tell him the truth. He
+showed some indignation at first, and intimated that I had insulted
+him but I rebuked him sternly, and told him he had better go home. I
+was too much excited to act very wisely. He took me at my word, and
+left the house. There was no sleep for my eyes on that night, Mrs.
+Eldridge. The image of that boy going home to his mother at
+midnight, in such a condition, and made so by my hand haunted me
+like a rebuking spectre; and I resolved never again to set out a
+table with liquors to a promiscuous company of young and old, and I
+have kept that word of promise. My husband is not willing to have a
+party unless there is wine with the refreshments, and I would rather
+forego all entertainments than put temptation in the way of any one.
+Your son's suggestion is admirable. Have the independence to act
+upon it, and set an example which many will be glad to follow. Don't
+fear criticism or remark; don't stop to ask what this one will say
+or that one think. The approval of our own consciences is worth far
+more than the opinions of men. Is it right? That is the question to
+ask; not How will it appear? or What will people say? There will be
+a number of parties given to your niece, without doubt; and if you,
+lead off with coffee instead of wine, all the rest of Fanny's
+friends may follow the good example."
+
+When Mr. Eldridge came home at dinner-time, his wife said to him,--
+
+"You needn't order any liquors from Snyder."
+
+"Why not?" Mr. Eldridge looked at his wife with some surprise.
+
+"I'm going to have coffee, instead of wine, and brandy," said Mrs.
+Eldridge, speaking firmly.
+
+"Nonsense!" You're jesting."
+
+"No, I'm in earnest. These liquors are not only expensive, but
+dangerous things to offer freely in mixed companies. Many boys get
+their first taste for drink at fashionable parties, and many
+reformed men have the old fiery thirst revived by a glass of wine
+poured out for them in social hospitality. I am afraid to have my
+conscience burdened with the responsibility which this involves."
+
+"There is no question as to the injury that is done by this free
+pouring out of liquors at our fashionable entertainments. I've long
+enough seen that," said Mr. Eldridge; "but she will be a bold lady
+who ventures to offer a cup of coffee in place of a glass of wine.
+You had better think twice on this subject before you act once."
+
+"I've done little else I but think about it for the last two hours,
+and the more I think about it the more settled my purpose becomes."
+
+"But what put this thing into your head?" inquired Mr. Eldridge.
+"You were in full sail for party this morning, liquor and all; this
+sudden tacking for a new course is a little surprising. I'm
+puzzled."
+
+"Your son put it into my head," replied Mrs. Eldridge.
+
+"Henry? Well, that boy does beat all!" Mr. Eldridge did not speak
+with disapprobation, but with a tone of pleasure in his voice. "And
+so he proposed that we should have coffee instead of wine and
+brandy?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Bravo for Henry! I like that. But what will people say, my dear? I
+don't want to become a laughing stock."
+
+"I'd rather have other people laugh at me for doing right," said
+Mrs. Eldridge, "than to have my conscience blame me for doing
+wrong."
+
+"Must we give the party?" asked Mr. Eldridge, who did not feel much
+inclined to brave public opinion.
+
+"I don't see that we can well avoid doing so. Parties will be given,
+and as Fanny is our niece, it will look like a slight towards her if
+we hold back. No, she must have a party; and as I am resolved to
+exclude liquor, we must come in first. Who knows but all the rest
+may follow our example."
+
+"Don't flatter yourself on any such result. We shall stand alone,
+you may depend upon it."
+
+The evening of the party came and a large company assembled at the
+house of Mr. and Mrs. Eldridge. At eleven o'clock they passed to the
+supper-room. On this time the thoughts of the host and hostess had
+passed, ever and anon, during the whole evening, and not without
+many misgivings as to the effect their entertainment would produce
+on the minds of the company. Mr. Eldridge was particularly nervous
+on the subject. There were several gentlemen present whom he knew to
+be lovers of good wine; gentlemen at whose houses he had often been
+entertained, and never without the exhilarating glass. How would
+they feel? What would they think? What would they say? These
+questions fairly haunted him; and he regretted, over and over again,
+that he had yielded to his wife and excluded the liquors.
+
+But there was no holding back now; the die was cast, and they must
+stand to the issue. Mr. Eldridge tried to speak pleasantly to the
+lady on his arm, as he ascended to the supper-room; but the words
+came heavily from his tongue, for his heart was dying in him. Soon
+the company were around the table, and eyes, critical in such
+matters, taking hurried inventories of what it contained. Setting
+aside the wine and brandy, the entertainment was of the most liberal
+character, and the whole arrangement extremely elegant. At each end
+of the table stood a large coffee-urn, surrounded with cups, the
+meaning of which was not long a mystery to the company. After the
+terrapin, oysters, salad, and their accompaniments, Mr. Eldridge
+said to a lady, in a half-hesitating voice, as if he were almost
+ashamed to ask the question,--
+
+"Will you have a cup of coffee?"
+
+"If you please," was the smiling answer. "Nothing would suit me
+better."
+
+"Delicious!" Mr. Eldridge heard one of the gentlemen, of whom he
+stood most in dread, say. "This is indeed a treat. I wouldn't give
+such a cup of coffee for the best glass of wine you could bring me."
+
+"I am glad you are pleased," Mr. Eldridge could not help remarking,
+as he turned to the gentleman.
+
+"You couldn't have pleased me better," was replied.
+
+Soon the cups were circling through the room, and every one seemed
+to enjoy the rich beverage. It was not the ghost of coffee, nor
+coffee robbed of its delicate aroma; but clear, strong, fragrant,
+and mellowed by the most delicious cream. Having elected to serve
+coffee, Mrs. Eldridge was careful that her entertainment should not
+prove a failure through any lack of excellence in this article. And
+it was very far from proving a failure. The first surprise being
+over, one and another began to express an opinion on the subject to
+the host and hostess.
+
+"Let me thank you," said a lady, taking the hand of Mrs. Eldridge,
+and speaking very warmly, "for your courage in making this
+innovation upon a custom of doubtful prudence. I thank you, as a
+mother, who has two sons here to-night."
+
+She said no more, but Mrs. Eldridge understood well her whole
+meaning.
+
+"You are a brave man, and I honor you," was the remark of a
+gentleman to Mr. Eldridge. "There will be many, I think, to follow
+your good example. I should never have had the courage to lead, but
+I think I shall be brave enough to follow, when it comes my turn to
+entertain my friends."
+
+Henry was standing by his father when this was said listening with
+respectful, but deeply gratified attention.
+
+"My son, sir," said Mr. Eldridge.
+
+The gentleman took the boy by the hand, and while he held it, the
+father added,--
+
+"I must let the honor go to where it really is due. The suggestion
+came from him. He is a Cadet of Temperance, and when the party was
+talked of, he pleaded so earnestly for the substitution of coffee
+for wine and brandy, and used such good reason for the change, that
+we saw only one right course before us, and that we have adopted."
+
+The gentleman, on hearing this, shook the lad's hand warmly, and
+said,--
+
+"Your father has reason to be proud of you, my brave boy! There is
+no telling what good may grew out of this thing. Others will follow
+your father's example, and hundreds of young men be saved from the
+enticements of the wine cup."
+
+With what strong throbs of pleasure did the boy's heart beat when
+these words came to his ears! He had scarcely hoped for success when
+he pleaded briefly, but earnestly, with his mother. Yet he felt that
+he must speak, for to his mind, what she proposed doing was a great
+evil. Since it had been resolved to banish liquor from the
+entertainment, he had heard his father and mother speak several
+times doubtfully as to the result; and more than once his father
+expressed result that any such "foolish" attempt to run in the face
+of people's prejudices had been thought of. Naturally, he had felt
+anxious about the result; but now that the affair had gone off so
+triumphantly, his heart was outgushing with pleasure.
+
+The result was as had been predicted. Four parties were given to the
+bride, and in each case the good example of Mrs. Eldridge was
+followed. Coffee took the place of wine and brandy, and it was the
+remark of nearly all, that there had been no pleasant parties during
+the season.
+
+So much for what a boy may do, by only a few right words spoken at
+the right time, and in the right manner. Henry Eldridge was
+thoughtful, modest, and earnest-minded. His attachment to the cause
+of temperance was not a mere boyish enthusiasm, but the result of a
+conviction that intemperance was a vice destructive, to both soul
+and body, and one that lay like a curse and a plague-spot on
+society, He could understand how, if the boys rejected, entirely,
+the cup of confusion, the next, generation of men would be sober;
+and this had led him to join the Cadets, and do all in his power to
+get other lads to join also. In drawing other lads into the order,
+he had been very successful; and now, in a few respectfully uttered,
+but earnest words, he had checked the progress of intemperance in a
+circle far beyond the ordinary reach of his influence.
+
+Henry Eldridge was a happy boy that night.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+XIV.
+
+AMY'S QUESTION.
+
+
+
+
+
+"AMY!"
+
+Mrs. Grove called from the door that opened towards the garden. But
+no answer came. The sun had set half an hour before, and his
+parting, rays, were faintly tinging with gold and purple few clouds
+that lay just alone the edge of the western sky. In the east, the
+full moon was rising in all her beauty, making pale the stars that
+were sparking in the firmament.
+
+"Where is Amy?" she asked. "Has any one seen her come in?"
+
+"I saw her go up stairs with her knitting in her hand half an hour
+ago," said Amy's brother, who was busily at work with his knife on a
+block of pine wood, trying to make a boat.
+
+Mrs. Grove went to the foot of the stairs, and called again. But
+there was no reply.
+
+"I wonder where the child can be," she said to herself, a slight
+feeling of anxiety crossing her mind. So she went up stairs to looks
+for her. The door of Amy's bedroom was shut, but on pushing it open
+Mrs. Grove saw her little girl sitting at the open window, so lost
+in the beauty of the moonlit sky and her own thoughts that she did
+not hear the noise of her mother's entrance.
+
+"Amy," said Mrs. Grove.
+
+The child started, and then said quickly,--
+
+"O, mother! Come and see! Isn't it lovely?"
+
+"What are you looking at, dear?" asked Mrs. Grove, as she sat down
+by her side, and drew an arm around her.
+
+"At the moon, and stars, and the lake away off by the hill. See what
+a great road of light lies across the water! Isn't it beautiful,
+mother? And it makes me feel so quiet and happy. I wonder why it
+is?"
+
+"Shall I tell you the reason?"
+
+"O, yes, mother, dear! What is the reason?"
+
+"God made everything that is good and beautiful."
+
+"O, yes, I know that!"
+
+"Good and beautiful for the sake of man; because man is the highest
+thing of creation and nearest to God. All things below him were
+created for his good; that is, God made them for him to use in
+sustaining the life of his body or the life of his soul."
+
+"I don't see what use I can make of the moon and stars," said Amy.
+
+"And yet," answered her mother, "you said only a minute ago that the
+beauty of this moon-light evening made you feel so quiet and happy."
+
+"O, yes! That is so; and you were going to tell me why it was."
+
+"First," said the mother, "let me, remind you that the moon and
+stars give us light by night, and that, if you happened to be away
+at a neighbor's after the sun went down, they would be of great use
+in showing you the path home-ward."
+
+"I didn't think of that when I spoke of not seeing what use I could
+make, of the moon and stars," Amy replied.
+
+Her mother went on,--
+
+"God made everything that is good and beautiful for the stake of
+man, as I have just told you; and each of these good and beautiful
+things of creation comes to us with a double blessing,--one for our
+bodies and the other for our souls. The moon and stars not only give
+light this evening to make dark ways plain, but their calm presence
+fills our souls with peace. And they do so, because all things of
+nature being the work of God, have in them a likeness of something
+in himself not seen by our eyes, but felt in our souls. Do you
+understand anything of what I mean, Amy?"
+
+"Just a little, only," answered the child. "Do you mean, mother
+dear, that God is inside of the moon and stars, and everything else
+that he has made?"
+
+"Not exactly what I mean; but that he has so made them, that each
+created thin is as a mirror in which our souls may see something of
+his love and his wisdom reflected. In the water we see an image of
+his truth, that, if learned, will satisfy our thirsty minds and
+cleanse us from impurity. In the sun we see an image of his love,
+that gives light, and warmth, and all beauty and health to our
+souls."
+
+"And what in the moon?" asked Amy.
+
+"The moon is cold and calm, not warm and brilliant like the sun,
+which tells us of God's love. Like truths learned, but not made warm
+and bright by love, it shows us the way in times of darkness. But
+you are too young to understand much about this. Only keep in your
+memory that every good and beautiful thing you see, being made by
+God, reflects something of his nature and quality to your soul and
+that this is why the lovely, the grand, the beautiful, the pure, and
+sweet things of nature fill your heart with peace or delight when
+you gaze at them."
+
+For a little while after this they sat looking out of the window,
+both feeling very peaceful in the presence of God and his works.
+Then voice was heard below, and Amy, starting up, exclaimed,--
+
+"O, there is father!" and taking her mother's hand, went down to
+meet him.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+XV.
+
+AN ANGEL IN DISGUISE.
+
+
+
+
+
+IDLENESS, vice, and intemperance had done their miserable work, and
+the dead mother lay cold and still amid her wretched children. She
+had fallen upon the threshold of her own door in a drunken fit, and
+died in the presence of her frightened little ones.
+
+Death touches the spring of our common humanity. This woman had been
+despised, scoffed at, and angrily denounced by nearly every man,
+woman, and child in the village; but now, as the fact of, her death
+was passed from lip to lip, in subdued tones, pity took the place of
+anger, and sorrow of denunciation. Neighbors went hastily to the old
+tumble-down hut, in which she had secured little more than a place
+of shelter from summer heats and winter cold: some with
+grave-clothes for a decent interment of the body; and some with food
+for the half-starving children, three in number. Of these, John, the
+oldest, a boy of twelve, was a stout lad, able to earn his living
+with any farmer. Kate, between ten and eleven, was bright, active
+girl, out of whom something clever might be made, if in good hands;
+but poor little Maggie, the youngest, was hopelessly diseased. Two
+years before a fall from a window had injured her spine, and she had
+not been able to leave her bed since, except when lifted in the arms
+of her mother.
+
+"What is to be done with the children?" That was the chief question
+now. The dead mother would go underground, and be forever beyond all
+care or concern of the villagers. But the children must not be left
+to starve. After considering the matter, and talking it over with
+his wife, farmer Jones said that he would take John, and do well by
+him, now that his mother was out of the way; and Mrs. Ellis, who had
+been looking out for a bound girl, concluded that it would be
+charitable in her to make choice of Katy, even though she was too
+young to be of much use for several years.
+
+"I could do much better, I know," said Mrs. Ellis; "but as no one
+seems inclined to take her, I must act from a sense of duty expect
+to have trouble with the child; for she's an undisciplined
+thing--used to having her own way."
+
+But no one said "I'll take Maggie." Pitying glances were cast on her
+wan and wasted form and thoughts were troubled on her account.
+Mothers brought cast-off garments and, removing her soiled and
+ragged clothes, dressed her in clean attire. The sad eyes and
+patient face of the little one touched many hearts, and even knocked
+at them for entrance. But none opened to take her in. Who wanted a
+bed-ridden child?
+
+"Take her to the poorhouse," said a rough man, of whom the question
+"What's to be done with Maggie?" was asked. "Nobody's going to be
+bothered with her."
+
+"The poorhouse is a sad place for a sick and helpless child,"
+answered one.
+
+"For your child or mine," said the other, lightly speaking; "but for
+tis brat it will prove a blessed change, she will be kept clean,
+have healthy food, and be doctored, which is more than can be said
+of her past condition."
+
+There was reason in that, but still it didn't satisfy. The day
+following the day of death was made the day of burial. A few
+neighbors were at the miserable hovel, but none followed dead cart
+as it bore the unhonored remains to its pauper grave. Farmer Jones,
+after the coffin was taken out, placed John in his wagon and drove
+away, satisfied that he had done his part. Mrs. Ellis spoke to Kate
+with a hurried air, "Bid your sister good by," and drew the tearful
+children apart ere scarcely their lips had touched in a sobbing
+farewell. Hastily others went out, some glancing at Maggie, and some
+resolutely refraining from a look, until all had gone. She was
+alone! Just beyond the threshold Joe Thompson, the wheelwright,
+paused, and said to the blacksmith's wife, who was hastening off
+with the rest,--
+
+"It's a cruel thing to leave her so."
+
+"Then take her to the poorhouse: she'll have to go there," answered
+the blacksmith's wife, springing away, and leaving Joe behind.
+
+For a little while the man stood with a puzzled air; then he turned
+back, and went into the hovel again. Maggie with painful effort, had
+raised herself to an upright position and was sitting on the bed,
+straining her eyes upon the door out of which all had just departed,
+A vague terror had come into her thin white face.
+
+"O, Mr. Thompson!" she cried out, catching her suspended breath,
+"don't leave me here all alone!"
+
+Though rough in exterior, Joe Thompson, the wheelwright, had a
+heart, and it was very tender in some places. He liked children, and
+was pleased to have them come to his shop, where sleds and wagons
+were made or mended for the village lads without a draft on their
+hoarded sixpences.
+
+"No, dear," he answered, in a kind voice, going to the bed, and
+stooping down over the child, "You sha'n't be left here alone." Then
+he wrapped her with the gentleness almost of a woman, in the clean
+bedclothes which some neighbor had brought; and, lifting her in his
+strong arms, bore her out into the air and across the field that lay
+between the hovel and his home.
+
+Now, Joe Thompson's wife, who happened to be childless, was not a
+woman of saintly temper, nor much given to self-denial for others'
+good, and Joe had well-grounded doubts touching the manner of
+greeting he should receive on his arrival. Mrs. Thompson saw him
+approaching from the window, and with ruffling feathers met him a
+few paces from the door, as he opened the garden gate, and came in.
+He bore a precious burden, and he felt it to be so. As his arms held
+the sick child to his breast, a sphere of tenderness went out from
+her, and penetrated his feelings. A bond had already corded itself
+around them both, and love was springing into life.
+
+"What have you there?" sharply questioned Mrs. Thompson.
+
+Joe, felt the child start and shrink against him. He did not reply,
+except by a look that was pleading and cautionary, that said, "Wait
+a moment for explanations, and be gentle;" and, passing in, carried
+Maggie to the small chamber on the first floor, and laid her on a
+bed. Then, stepping back, he shut the door, and stood face to face
+with his vinegar-tempered wife in the passage-way outside.
+
+"You haven't brought home that sick brat!" Anger and astonishment
+were in the tones of Mrs. Joe Thompson; her face was in a flame.
+
+"I think women's hearts are sometimes very hard," said Joe. Usually
+Joe Thompson got out of his wife's way, or kept rigidly silent and
+non-combative when she fired up on any subject; it was with some
+surprise, therefore, that she now encountered a firmly-set
+countenance and a resolute pair of eyes.
+
+"Women's hearts are not half so hard as men's!"
+
+Joe saw, by a quick intuition, that his resolute bearing had
+impressed his wife and he answered quickly, and with real
+indignation, "Be that as it may, every woman at the funeral turned
+her eyes steadily from the sick child's face, and when the cart went
+off with her dead mother, hurried away, and left her alone in that
+old hut, with the sun not an hour in the sky."
+
+"Where were John and Kate?" asked Mrs. Thompson.
+
+"Farmer Jones tossed John into his wagon, and drove off. Katie went
+home with Mrs. Ellis; but nobody wanted the poor sick one. 'Send her
+to the poorhouse,' was the cry."
+
+"Why didn't you let her go, then. What did you bring her here for?"
+
+"She can't walk to the poorhouse," said Joe; "somebody's arms must
+carry her, and mine are strong enough for that task."
+
+"Then why didn't you keep on? Why did you stop here?" demanded the
+wife.
+
+"Because I'm not apt to go on fools' errands. The Guardians must
+first be seen, and a permit obtained."
+
+There was no gainsaying this.
+
+"When will you see the Guardians?" was asked, with irrepressible
+impatience.
+
+"To-morrow."
+
+"Why put it off till to-morrow? Go at once for the permit, and get
+the whole thing off of your hands to-night."
+
+"Jane," said the wheelwright, with an impressiveness of tone that
+greatly subdued his wife, "I read in the Bible sometimes, and find
+much said about little children. How the Savior rebuked the
+disciples who would not receive them; how he took them up in his
+arms, and blessed them; and how he said that 'whosoever gave them
+even a cup of cold water should not go unrewarded.' Now, it is a
+small thing for us to keep this poor motherless little one for a
+single night; to be kind to her for a single night; to make her life
+comfortable for a single night."
+
+The voice of the strong, rough man shook, and he turned his head
+away, so that the moisture in his eyes might not be seen. Mrs.
+Thompson did not answer, but a soft feeling crept into her heart.
+
+"Look at her kindly, Jane; speak to her kindly," said Joe. "Think of
+her dead mother, and the loneliness, the pain, the sorrow that must
+be on all her coming life." The softness of his heart gave unwonted
+eloquence to his lips.
+
+Mrs. Thompson did not reply, but presently turned towards the little
+chamber where her husband had deposited Maggie; and, pushing open
+the door, went quietly in. Joe did not follow; he saw that, her
+state had changed, and felt that it would be best to leave her alone
+with the child. So he went to his shop, which stood near the house,
+and worked until dusky evening released him from labor. A light
+shining through the little chamber windows was the first object that
+attracted Joe's attention on turning towards the house: it was a
+good omen. The path led him by this windows and, when opposite, he
+could not help pausing to look in. It was now dark enough outside to
+screen him from observation. Maggie lay, a little raised on the
+pillow with the lamp shining full upon her face. Mrs. Thompson was
+sitting by the bed, talking to the child; but her back was towards
+the window, so that her countenance was not seen. From Maggie's
+face, therefore, Joe must read the character of their intercourse.
+He saw that her eyes were intently fixed upon his wife; that now and
+then a few words came, as if in answers from her lips; that her
+expression was sad and tender; but he saw nothing of bitterness or
+pain. A deep-drawn breath was followed by one of relief, as a weight
+lifted itself from his heart.
+
+On entering, Joe did not go immediately to the little chamber. His
+heavy tread about the kitchen brought his wife somewhat hurriedly
+from the room where she had been with Maggie. Joe thought it best
+not to refer to the child, nor to manifest any concern in regard to
+her.
+
+"How soon will supper be ready?" he asked.
+
+"Right soon," answered Mrs. Thompson, beginning to bustle about.
+There was no asperity in her voice.
+
+After washing from his hands and face the dust and soil of work, Joe
+left the kitchen, and went to the little bedroom. A pair of large
+bright eyes looked up at him from the snowy bed; looked at him
+tenderly, gratefully, pleadingly. How his heart swelled in his
+bosom! With what a quicker motion came the heart-beats! Joe sat
+down, and now, for the first time, examining the thin free carefully
+under the lamp light, saw that it was an attractive face, and full
+of a childish sweetness which suffering had not been able to
+obliterate.
+
+"Your name is Maggie?" he said, as he sat down and took her soft
+little hand in his.
+
+"Yes, sir." Her voice struck a chord that quivered in a low strain
+of music.
+
+"Have you been sick long?"
+
+"Yes, sir." What a sweet patience was in her tone!
+
+"Has the doctor been to see you?"
+
+"He used to come."
+
+"But not lately?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Have you any pain?"
+
+"Sometimes, but not now."
+
+"When had you pain?"
+
+"This morning my side ached, and my back hurt when you carried me."
+
+"It hurts you to be lifted or moved about?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Your side doesn't ache now?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Does it ache a great deal?"
+
+"Yes, sir; but it hasn't ached any since I've been on this soft
+bed."
+
+"The soft bed feels good."
+
+"O, yes, sir--so good!" What a satisfaction, mingled with gratitude,
+was in her voice!
+
+"Supper is ready," said Mrs. Thompson, looking into the room a
+little while afterwards.
+
+Joe glanced from his wife's face to that of Maggie; she understood
+him, and answered,--
+
+"She can wait until we are done; then I will bring her somethings to
+eat." There was an effort at indifference on the part of Mrs.
+Thompson, but her husband had seen her through the window, and
+understood that the coldness was assumed. Joe waited, after sitting
+down to the table, for his wife to introduce the subject uppermost
+in both of their thoughts; but she kept silent on that theme, for
+many minutes, and he maintained a like reserve. At last she said,
+abruptly,--
+
+"What are you going to do with that child?"
+
+"I thought you understood me that she was to go to the poorhouse,"
+replied Joe, as if surprised at her question.
+
+Mrs. Thompson looked rather strangely at her husband for sonic
+moments, and then dropped her eyes. The subject was not again
+referred to during the meal. At its close, Mrs. Thompson toasted a
+slice of bread, and softened, it with milk and butter; adding to
+this a cup of tea, she took them into Maggie, and held the small
+waiter, on which she had placed them, while the hungry child ate
+with every sign of pleasure.
+
+"Is it good?" asked Mrs. Thompson, seeing with what a keen relish
+the food was taken.
+
+The child paused with the cup in her hand, and answered with a look
+of gratitude that awoke to new life old human feelings which had
+been slumbering in her heart for half a score of years.
+
+"We'll keep her a day or two longer; she is so weak and helpless,"
+said Mrs. Joe Thompson, in answer to her husband's remark, at
+breakfast-time on the next morning, that he must step down and see
+the Guardians of the Poor about Maggie.
+
+"She'll be so much in your way," said Joe.
+
+"I sha'n't mind that for a day or two. Poor thing!"
+
+Joe did not see the Guardians of the Poor on that day, on the next,
+nor on the day following. In fact, he never saw them at all on
+Maggie's account, for in less than a week Mrs. Joe Thompson would as
+soon leave thought of taking up her own abode in the almshouse as
+sending Maggie there.
+
+What light and blessing did that sick and helpless child bring to
+the home of Joe Thompson, the poor wheelwright! It had been dark,
+and cold, and miserable there for a long time just because his wife
+had nothing to love and care for out of herself, and so became soar,
+irritable, ill-tempered, and self-afflicting in the desolation of
+her woman's nature. Now the sweetness of that sick child, looking
+ever to her in love, patience, and gratitude, was as honey to her
+soul, and she carried her in her heart as well as in her arms, a
+precious burden. As for Joe Thompson, there was not a man in all the
+neighborhood who drank daily of a more precious wine of life than
+he. An angel had come into his house, disguised as a sick, helpless,
+and miserable child, and filled all its dreary chambers with the
+sunshine of love.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+XVI.
+
+WHICH WAS MOST THE LADY?
+
+
+
+
+
+"DID you ever see such a queer looking figure?" exclaimed a young
+lady, speaking loud enough to be heard by the object of her remark.
+She was riding slowly along in an open carriage, a short distance
+from the city, accompanied by a relative. The young man, her
+companion, looked across the, road at a woman, whose attire was
+certainly not in any way very near approach to the fashion of the
+day. She had on a faded calico dress, short in the waist; stout
+leather shoes; the remains of what had once been a red merino long
+shawl, and a dingy old Leghorn bonnet of the style of eighteen
+hundred and twenty.
+
+As the young man turned to look at the woman, the latter raised her
+eyes and fixed them steadily upon the young lady who had so rudely
+directed towards her the attention of her companion. Her face, was
+not old nor faded, as the dress she wore. It was youthful, but plain
+almost to homeliness; and the smallness of her eyes, which were
+close together and placed at the Mongolian angle, gave to her
+countenance a singular aspect.
+
+"How do you do, aunty?" said the young man gently drawing on the
+rein of his horse so as still further to diminish his speed.
+
+The face of the young girl--for she was quite young--reddened, and she
+slackened her steps so as to fall behind the rude, unfeeling couple,
+who sought to make themselves merry at her expense.
+
+"She is gypsy!" said the young lady, laughing.
+
+"Gran'mother! How are catnip and hoarhound, snakeroot and tansy,
+selling to-day? What's the state of the herb market?" joined the
+young man with increasing rudeness.
+
+"That bonnet's from the ark--ha! ha!"
+
+"And was worn by the wife of Shem, Ham or Japheth. Ha! now I've got
+it! This is the great, great, great granddaughter of Noah. What a
+discovery! Where's Barnum? Here's a chance for another fortune!"
+
+The poor girl made no answer to this cruel and cowardly assault, but
+turned her face away, and stood still, in order to let the carriage
+pass on.
+
+"You look like a gentleman and a lady," said a man whom was riding
+by, and happened to overhear some of their last remarks; "and no
+doubt regard yourselves as such. But your conduct is anything but
+gentlemanly and lady-like; and if I had the pleasure of knowing your
+friends, I would advise them to keep you in until you had sense and
+decency enough not to disgrace yourselves and them!"
+
+A fiery spot burned instantly on the young man's face, and fierce
+anger shot from his eyes. But the one who had spoken so sharply
+fixed upon him a look of withering contempt, and riding close up to
+the carriage, handed him his card, remarking coldly, as he did so,--
+
+"I shall be pleased to meet you again, sir. May I ask your card in
+return?"
+
+The young man thrust his hand indignantly into his pocket, and
+fumbled there for some moments, but without finding a card.
+
+"No matter," said he, trying to speak fiercely; "you will hear from
+me in good time."
+
+"And you from me on the spot, if I should happen to catch you at
+such mean and cowardly work as you were just now engaged in," said
+the stranger, no seeking to veil his contempt.
+
+"The vulgar brute! O, he's horrid!" ejaculated the young lady as her
+rather crestfallen companion laid the whip upon his horse and dashed
+ahead. "How he frightened me!"
+
+"Some greasy butcher or two-fisted blacksmith," said the elegant
+young man with contempt. "But," he added boastfully, "I'll teach him
+a lesson!"
+
+Out into the beautiful country, with feeling a little less buoyant
+than when they started, rode our gay young couple. As the excitement
+of passion died away both feel a little uncomfortable in mind, for
+certain unpleasant convictions intruded themselves, and certain
+precepts in the code of polite usage grew rather distinct in their
+memories. They had been thoughtless, to say the least of it.
+
+"But the girl looked so queer!" said the young lady. "I couldn't
+help laughing to save my life. Where on earth did she come from?"
+
+Not very keen was their enjoyment of the afternoon's ride, although
+the day was particularly fine, and their way was amid some bits of
+charming scenery. After going out into the country some five or six
+miles, the horse's head was turned, and they took their way
+homeward. Wishing to avoid the Monotony of a drive along the same
+road the young man struck across the country in order to reach
+another avenue leading into the city, but missed his way and
+bewildered in a maze of winding country roads. While descending a
+steep hill, in a very secluded place, a wheel came off, and both
+were thrown from the carriage. The young man received only a slight
+bruise, but the girl was more seriously injured. Her head had struck
+against a stone with so strong a concussion as to render her
+insensible.
+
+Eagerly glancing around for aid, the young man saw, at no great
+distance from the road, a poor looking log tenement, from the mud
+chimney of which curled a thin column of smoke, giving signs of
+inhabitants. To call aloud was his first impulse, and he raised his
+voice with the cry of "Help!"
+
+Scarcely had the sound died away, ere he saw the door of the cabin
+flung open, and a woman and boy looked eagerly around.
+
+"Help!" he cried again, and the sound of his voice directed their
+eyes towards him. Even in his distress, alarm, and bewilderment, the
+young man recognized instantly in the woman the person they had so
+wantonly insulted only an hour or two before. As soon as she saw
+them, she ran forward hastily, and seeing the white face of the
+insensible girl, exclaimed, with pity and concern,--
+
+"O, sir! is she badly hurt?"
+
+There was heart in that voice of peculiar sweetness.
+
+"Poor lady!" she said, tenderly, as she untied the bonnet strings
+with gentle care, and placed her hand upon the clammy temples.
+
+"Shall I help you to take her over to the house?" she added, drawing
+an arm beneath the form of the insensible girl.
+
+"Thank you!" There was a tone of respect in the young man's voice.
+"But I can carry her myself;" and he raised the insensible form in
+his arms, and, following the young stranger, bore it into her humble
+dwelling. As he laid her upon a bed, he asked, eagerly,--
+
+"Is there a doctor near?"
+
+"Yes, sir," replied the girl. "If you will come to the door, I will
+show you the doctor's house; and I think he must be at home, for I
+saw him go by only a quarter of an hour since. John will take care
+of your horse while you are away, and I will do my best for the poor
+lady."
+
+The doctor's house, about a quarter of a mile distant, was pointed
+out, and the young man hurried off at a rapid speed. He was gone
+only a few minutes when his insensible companion revived, and,
+starting up, looked wildly around her.
+
+"Where am I? Where is George?" she asked, eagerly.
+
+"He has gone for the doctor; but will be back very soon," said the
+young woman, in a kind, soothing voice.
+
+"For the doctor! Who's injured?" She had clasped her hands across
+her forehead, and now, on removing them, saw on one a wet stain of
+blood. With a frightened cry she fell backs upon the pillow from
+which she had risen.
+
+"I don't think you are much hurt," was said, in a tone of
+encouragement, as with a damp cloth the gentle stranger wiped very
+tenderly her forehead. "The cut is not deep. Have you pain
+anywhere?"
+
+"No," was faintly answered.
+
+"You can move your arms; so _they_ are uninjured. And now, won't you
+just step on to the floor, and see if you can bear your weight? Let
+me raise you up, There, put your foot down--now the other--now take a
+step--now another. There are no bones broken! How glad I am!"
+
+How earnest, how gentle, how pleased she was. There was no acting in
+her manner. Every tone, expression, and gesture showed that heart
+was in everything.
+
+"O, I am glad!" she repeated. "It might have been so much worse."
+
+The first glance into the young girl's face was one of
+identification; and even amid the terror that oppressed her heart,
+the unwilling visitor felt a sense of painful mortification. There
+was no mistaking that peculiar countenance. But how different she
+seemed! Her voice was singularly sweet, her manner gentle and full
+of kindness, and in her movements and attitude a certain ease that
+marked her as one not to be classed, even by the over-refined young
+lady who was so suddenly brought within her power, among the common
+herd.
+
+All that assiduous care and kind attention could do for the unhappy
+girl, until the doctor's arrival, was done. After getting back to
+the bed from which she bad been induced to rise, in order to see if
+all her limbs were sound, she grew sick and faint, and remained so
+until the physician came. He gave it as his opinion that she had
+received some internal injuries, and that it would not be safe to
+attempt her removal.
+
+The young couple looked at each other with dismay pictured in their
+countenances.
+
+"I wish it were in my power to make you more comfortable," said the
+kind-hearted girl, in whose humble abode they were. "What we have is
+at your service in welcome, and all that it is in my power to do
+shall be done for you cheerfully. If father was only at home--but
+that can't be helped."
+
+The young man dazed upon her in wonder and shame--wonder at the charm
+that now appeared in her singularly marked countenance, and shame
+for the disgraceful and cowardly cruelty with which he had a little
+while before so wantonly assailed her.
+
+The doctor was positive about the matter, and so there was no
+alternative. After seeing his unhappy relative in as comfortable a
+condition as possible, the young man, with the doctor's aid,
+repaired his crippled vehicle by the restoration of a linchpin, and
+started for the city to bear intelligence of the sad accident, and
+bring out the mother of the injured girl.
+
+Alone with the person towards whom she had only a short time before
+acted in such shameless violation of womanly kindness and lady-like
+propriety, our "nice young lady" did not feel more comfortable in
+mind than body. Every look--every word--every tone--every act of the
+kind-hearted girl--was a rebuke. The delicacy of her attentions, and
+the absence of everything like a desire to refund her of the recent
+unpleasant incident, marked her as possessing, even if her face and
+attire were plain, and her position humble, all the elements of a
+true lady.
+
+Although the doctor, when he left, did not speak very encouragingly,
+the vigorous system of the young girl began to react and she grew
+better quite rapidly so that when her parents arrived with the
+family physician, she was so much improved that it was at once
+decided to take her to the city.
+
+For an hour before her parents came she lay feigning to be in sleep,
+yet observing every movement and word of her gentle attendant. It
+was an hour of shame, self-reproaches, and repentance. She was not
+really bad at heart; but false estimates of things, trifling
+associations, and a thoughtless disregard of others, had made her
+far less a lady in act than she imagined herself to be in quality.
+Her parents, when they arrived, overwhelmed the young girl with
+thankfulness; and the father, at parting, tried to induce her to
+accept a sum of money. But the offers seemed to disturb her.
+
+"O, no, sir!" she said, drawing back, while a glow came into her
+pale face, and made it almost beautiful; "I have only done a simple
+duty."
+
+"But you are poor," he urged, glancing around. "Take this, and let
+it make you more comfortable."
+
+"We are contented with what God has given to us," she replied,
+cheerfully. "For what he gives is always the best portion. No, sir;
+I cannot receive money for doing only a common duty."
+
+"Your reward is great," said the father, touched with the noble
+answer, "may God bless you, my good girl! And if you will not
+receive my money, accept my grateful thanks."
+
+As the daughter parted from the strange young girl, she bent down
+and kissed her hand; then looking up into her face, with tearful
+eyes, she whispered for her ears alone,--
+
+"I am punished, and you are vindicated. O, let your heart forgive
+me!"
+
+"It was God whom you offended," was whispered back. "Get his
+forgiveness, and all will be right. You have mine, and also the
+prayer of my heart that you may be good and wise, for only such are
+happy."
+
+The humbled girl grasped her hand tightly, and murmured, "I shall
+never forget you--never!"
+
+Nor did she. If the direct offer of her father was declined,
+indirect benefits reached, through her means, the lonely log
+cottage, where everything in time put on a new and pleasant aspect,
+wind the surroundings of the gentle spirit that presides there were
+more in agreement with her true internal quality. To the thoughtless
+young couple the incidents of that day were a life-lesson that never
+passed entirely from their remembrance. They obtained a glance below
+the surface of things that surprised them, learning that, even in
+the humblest, there may be hearts in the right places--warm with pure
+feelings, and inspired by the noblest sentiments of humanity; and
+that highly as they esteem themselves on account of their position,
+there was one, at least, standing below them so far as external
+advantages were concerned, who was their superior in all the higher
+qualities that go to make up the real lady and gentleman.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+XVII.
+
+OTHER PEOPLE'S EYES.
+
+
+
+
+
+"OUR parlor carpet is beginning to look real shabby," said Mrs.
+Cartwright. "I declare! if I don't feel right down ashamed of it,
+every time a visitor, who is anybody, calls in to see me."
+
+"A new one will cost--"
+
+The husband of Mrs. Cartwright, a good-natured, compliant man, who
+was never better pleased than when he could please his wife, paused
+to let her finish the sentence, which she did promptly, by saying,--
+
+"Only forty dollars. I've counted it all up. It will take thirty-six
+yards. I saw a beautiful piece at Martin's--just the thing--at one
+dollar a yard. Binding, and other little matters, won't go beyond
+three or four dollars, and I can make it myself, you know."
+
+"Only forty dollars! Mr. Cartwright glanced down at the carpet which
+had decorated the floor of their little parlor for nearly five
+years. It had a pleasant look in his eyes, for it was associated
+with many pleasant memories. Only forty dollars for a new one! If
+the cost were only five, instead of forty, the inclination to banish
+this old friend to an out-of-the-way chamber would have been no
+stronger in the mind of Mr. Cartwright. But forty dollars was an
+item in the calculation, and to Mr. Cartwright a serious one. Every
+year he was finding it harder to meet the gradually increasing
+demand upon his purse; for there was a steadily progressive
+enlargement of his family, and year after year the cost of living
+advanced. He was thinking of this when his wife said,--
+
+"You know, Henry, that cousin Sally Gray is coming here on a visit
+week after next. Now I do want to put the very best face on to
+things while she is here. We were married at the same time, and I
+hear that her husband is getting rich. I feel a little pride about
+the matter, and don't want her to think that we're growing worse off
+than when we began life, and can't afford to replace this shabby old
+carpet by a new one." No further argument was needed. Mr. Cartwright
+had sixty dollars in one of the bureau drawers,--a fact well known to
+his wife. And it was also well known to her that it was the
+accumulation of very careful savings, designed, when the sum reached
+one hundred dollars, to cancel a loan made by a friend, at a time
+when sickness and a death in the family had run up their yearly
+expenses beyond the year's income. Very desirous was Mr. Cartwright
+to pay off this loan, and he had felt lighter in heart as those
+aggregate of his savings came nearer and nearer to the sum required
+for that purpose.
+
+But he had no firmness to oppose his wife in anything. Her wishes in
+this instance, as in many others, he unwisely made a law. The
+argument about cousin Sally Gray was irresistible. No more than his
+wife did he wish to look poor in her eyes; and so, for the sake of
+her eyes, a new carpet was bought, and the old one--not by any means
+as worn and faded as the language of his wife indicated--sent up
+stairs to do second-hand duty in the spare bedroom.
+
+Not within the limit of forty dollars was the expense confined. A
+more costly pattern than could be obtained for one dollar a yard
+tempted the eyes of Mrs. Cartwright, and abstracted from her
+husband's savings the sum of over fifty dollars. Mats and rugs to go
+with the carpet were indispensable, to give the parlor the right
+effect in the eyes of cousin Sally Gray, and the purchase of these
+absorbed the remainder of Mr. Cartwright's carefully hoarded sixty
+dollars.
+
+Unfortunately, for the comfortable condition of Mrs. Cartwright's
+mind, the new carpet, with its flaunting colors, put wholly out of
+countenance the cane-seat chairs and modest pier table, and gave to
+the dull paper on the wall a duller aspect. Before, she had scarcely
+noticed the hangings on the Venetian blinds, now, it seemed as if
+they had lost their freshness in a day; and the places where they
+were broken, and had been sewed again, were singularly apparent
+every time her eye rested upon them.
+
+"These blinds do look dreadfully!" she said to her husband, on the
+day after the carpet went down. "Can you remember what they cost?"
+
+"Eight dollars," replied Mr. Cartwright.
+
+"So much?" The wife sighed as she spoke.
+
+"Yes, that was the price. I remember it very well."
+
+"I wonder what new hangings would cost?" Mrs. Cartwright's manner
+grew suddenly more cheerful, as the suggestion of a cheaper way to
+improve the windows came into her thought.
+
+"Not much, I presume," answered her husband.
+
+"Don't you think we'd better have it done?"
+
+"Yes," was the compliant answer.
+
+"Will you stop at the blind-maker's, as you go to the store, and
+tell him to send up for them to-day? It must be attended to at once,
+you know, for cousin Sally will be here on next Wednesday."
+
+Mr. Cartwright called at the blind-maker's, as requested, and the
+blind-maker promised to send for the blinds. From there he continued
+onto the store in which he was employed. There he found a note on
+his desk from the friend to whom he was indebted for the one hundred
+dollars.
+
+"Dear Cartwright" (so the note ran), "if it is possible for you to
+let me have the one hundred dollars I loaned you, its return
+to-morrow will be a particular favor, as I have a large payment to
+make, and have been disappointed in the receipt of a sum of money
+confidently expected."
+
+A very sudden change of feeling did Mr. Cartwright experience. He
+had, in a degree, partaken of his wife's pleasure in observing the
+improved appearances of their little parlor but this pleasure was
+now succeeded by a sense of painful regret and mortification. It was
+nearly two hours before Mr. Cartwright returned an answer to his
+friend's note. Most of that time had been spent in the vain effort
+to discover some way out of the difficulty in which he found himself
+placed. He would have asked an advance of one hundred dollars on his
+salary, but he did not deem that a prudent step, and for two
+reasons. One was, the known character of his employers; and the
+other was involved in the question of how he was to support his
+family for the time he was working out this advance? At last, in
+sadness and humiliation, he wrote a brief reply, regretting his
+inability to replace the loan now, but promising to do it in a very
+short time. Not very long after this answer was sent, there came
+another note from his friend, written in evident haste, and under
+the influence of angry feelings. It was in these words:--
+
+"I enclose your due bill, which I, yesterday, thought good for its
+face. But, as it is worthless, I send it back. The man who buys new
+carpets and new furniture, instead of paying his honest debts, can
+be no friend of mine. I am sorry to have been mistaken in Henry
+Cartwright."
+
+Twice did the unhappy man read this cutting letter; then, folding it
+up slowly, be concealed it in one of his pockets. Nothing was said
+about it to his wife, whose wordy admiration of the new carpet, and
+morning, noon, and night, for the next two or three days, was a
+continual reproof of his weakness for having yielded to her wishes
+in a matter where calm judgement and a principle of right should
+have prevailed. But she could not help noticing that he was less
+cheerful; and once or twice he spoke to her in a way that she
+thought positively ill-natured. Something was wrong with him; but
+what that something was, she did not for an instant imagine.
+
+At last the day arrived for cousin Sally Gray's visit. Unfortunately
+the Venetian blinds were still at the blind-maker's, where they were
+likely to remain for a week longer, as it was discovered, on the
+previous afternoon, that he had never touched them since they came
+into his shop. Without them the little parlor had a terribly bare
+look; the strong light coming in, and contrasting harshly the new,
+gaudy carpet with the old, worn, and faded furniture. Mrs.
+Cartwright fairly cried with vexation.
+
+"We must have something for the windows, Henry," she said, as she
+stood, disconsolate, in the parlor, after tea. "It will never do in
+the world to let cousin Sally find us in this trim."
+
+"Cousin Sally will find a welcome in our hearts," replied her
+husband, in a sober voice, "and that, I am sure, will be more
+grateful to her than new carpets and window blinds."
+
+The way in which this was spoken rather surprised Mrs. Cartwright,
+and she felt just a little rebuked.
+
+"Don't you think," she said, after a few moments of silence on both
+sides, "that we might afford to buy a few yards of lace to put up to
+the windows, just for decency's sake?"
+
+"No," answered the husband, firmly. "We have afforded too much
+already."
+
+His manner seemed to Mrs. Cartwright almost ill-natured. It hurt her
+very much. Both sat down in the parlor, and both remained silent.
+Mrs. Cartwright thought of the mean appearance everything in that
+"best room" would have in the eyes of cousin Sally, and Mr.
+Cartwright thought of his debt to his friend, and of that friend's
+anger and alienation. Both felt more uncomfortable than they had
+been for a long time.
+
+On the next day cousin Sally arrived. She had not come to spy out
+the nakedness of the land,--not for the purpose of making contrasts
+between her own condition in life and that of Mr. Cartwright,--but
+from pure love. She had always been warmly attached to her cousin;
+and the years during which new life-associations had separated them
+had increased rather than diminished this attachment. But the
+gladness of their meeting was soon overshadowed; at least for cousin
+Sally. She saw by the end of the first day's visit that her cousin
+was more concerned to make a good appearance in her eyes,--to have
+her understand that she and her husband were getting along bravely
+in the world,--than to open her heart to her as of old, and exchange
+with her a few pages in the history of their inner lives. What
+interest had she in the new carpet, or the curtainless window, that
+seemed to be the most prominent of all things in the mind of her
+relative? None whatever! If the visit had been from Mary Cartwright
+to herself, she would never have thought for an instant of making
+preparations for her coming in the purchase of new furniture, or by
+any change in the externals of her home. All arrangements for the
+reception would have been in her heart.
+
+Cousin Sally was disappointed. She did not find the relative, with
+whom so many years of her life had been spent in sweet intercourse,
+as she had hoped to find her. The girlish warmth of feelings had
+given place to a cold worldliness that repelled instead of
+attracting her. She had loved, and suffered much; had passed through
+many trials, and entered through many opening doors into new
+experiences, during the years since their ways parted. And she had
+come to this old, dear friend, yearning for that heart
+intercourse,--that reading together of some of the pages of their
+books of life,--which she felt almost as a necessity. What interest
+had she for the mere externals of Mary's life? None! None! And the
+constant reference thereto, by her cousin, seemed like a
+desecration. Careful and troubled about the little things of life,
+she found the dear old friend of her girlish days, to whom she had
+come hopefully, as to one who could comprehend, as in earlier years,
+the feelings, thoughts, and aspirations which had grown stronger,
+deeper, and of wider range.
+
+Alas! Alas! How was the fine gold dimmed in her eyes!
+
+"Dear Mary!" she said to her cousin, on the morning of the day that
+was, to end her visit,--they were sitting, together in the little
+parlor, and Mrs. Cartwright had referred, for the fortieth time, to
+the unshaded windows, and declared herself mortified to death at the
+appearance of things,--"Dear Mary! It was to see you, not your
+furniture, that I came. To look into your heart and feel it beating
+against mine as of old; not to pry, curiously, into your ways of
+living, nor to compare your house-furnishing with my own. But for
+your constant reference to these things, I should not have noticed,
+particularly, how your house was attired; and if asked about them,
+could only have answered, 'She's living very nicely.' Forgive me for
+this plain speech, dear cousin. I did not mean to give utterance to
+such language; but the words are spoken now, and cannot be
+recalled."
+
+Mrs. Cartwright, if not really offended, was mortified and rebuked
+and these states of feeling united with pride, served to give
+coldness to her exterior. She tried to be cordial in manner towards
+her cousin; to seem as if she had not felt her words; but this was
+impossible, for she had felt them too deeply. She saw that the
+cherished friend and companion of her girlhood was disappointed in
+her; that she had come to look into her heart, and not into the
+attiring of her home; and was going away with diminished affection.
+After years of divergence, their paths had touched; and, separating
+once more, she felt that they would never run parallel again.
+
+A few hours later, cousin Sally gave her a parting kiss. How
+different in warmth to the kiss of meeting! Very sad, very
+dissatisfied with herself,--very unhappy did Mrs. Cartwright feel, as
+she sat musing alone after her relative had departed. She was
+conscious of having lost a friend forever, because she had not risen
+to the higher level to which that friend had attained--not in
+external, but in the true internal life.
+
+But a sharper mortification was in store for her. The letter of her
+husband's friend, in which he had returned the due bill for one
+hundred dollars, fell accidentally into her hands, and overwhelmed
+her with consternation. For that new carpet, which had failed to win
+more than a few extorted sentences of praise from cousin Sally Gray,
+her husband had lost the esteem of one of his oldest and best
+friends, and was now suffering, in silence, the most painful trial
+of his life.
+
+Poor, weak woman! Instead of the pleasure she had hoped to gain in
+the possession of this carpet, it had made her completely wretched.
+While sitting almost stupefied with the pressure that was on her
+feelings, a neighbor called in, and she went down to the parlor to
+meet her.
+
+"What a lovely carpet!" said the neighbor, in real admiration.
+"Where did you buy it?"
+
+"At Martin's," was answered.
+
+"Had they any more of the same pattern?" inquired the neighbor.
+
+"This was the last piece."
+
+The neighbor was sorry. It was the most beautiful pattern she had
+ever seen; and she would hunt the city over but what she would find
+another just like it.
+
+"You may have this one," said Mrs Cartwright, on the impulse of the
+moment. "My husband doesn't particularly fancy it. Your parlor is
+exactly the size of mine. It is all made and bound nicely as you can
+see; and this work on it shall cost you nothing. We paid a little
+over fifty dollars for the carpet before a stitch was taken in it;
+and fifty dollars will make you the possessor."
+
+"Are you really in earnest?" said the neighbor.
+
+"Never more so in my life."
+
+"It is a bargain, then."
+
+"Very well."
+
+"When can I have it?"
+
+"Just as soon as I can rip it from the floor," said Mrs. Cartwright,
+in real earnest.
+
+"Go to work," replied the neighbor, laughing out at the novelty of
+the affair. "Before your task is half done, I will be back with the
+fifty dollars, and a man to carry home the carpet."
+
+And so she was. In less than half an hour after the sale was made,
+in this off-hand fashion, Mrs. Cartwright sat alone in her parlor,
+looking down upon the naked floor. But she had five ten-dollar gold
+pieces in her hand, and they were of more value in her eyes than
+twenty carpets. Not long did she sit musing here. There was other
+work to do. The old carpet must be replaced upon the parlor floor
+ere her husband's return. And it was replaced. In the midst of her
+hurried operations the old blinds with the new hangings came in, and
+were put up to the windows. When Mr. Cartwright returned home, and
+stepped inside of the little parlor, where he found his wife
+awaiting him, he gave an exclamation of surprise.
+
+"Why, Mary! What is the meaning of this? Where is the new carpet?"
+
+She laid the five gold pieces in his hand, and then looked
+earnestly, and with tears in her eyes, upon his wondering face.
+
+"What are these, Mary? Where did they come from?"
+
+"Cousin Sally is gone. The carpet didn't seem attractive in her
+eyes, and it has lost all beauty in mine. So I sold the unlovely
+thing, and here is the money. Take it, dear Henry, and let it serve
+the purpose for which it was designed."
+
+"All right again!" exclaimed Mr. Cartwright, as soon as the whole
+matter was clear to him. "All right, Mary, dear! That carpet, had it
+remained, would have wrecked, I fear, the happiness of our home. Ah,
+let us consult only our own eyes hereafter, Mary--not the eyes of
+other people! None think the better of us for what we seem--only for
+what we are. It is not from fine furniture that our true pleasure in
+life is to come, but from a consciousness of right-doing. Let the
+inner life be right, and the outer life will surely be in just
+harmony. In the humble abode of virtue there is more real happiness
+than in the palace-homes of the unjust, the selfish, and
+wrong-doers. The sentiment is old as the world, but it must come to
+every heart, at some time in life, with all the force of an original
+utterance. And let it so come to us now, dear wife!"
+
+And thus it did come. This little experience showed them an aspect
+of things that quickened their better reasons, and its smart
+remained long enough to give it the power of a monitor in all their
+after lives. They never erred again in this wise. For two or three
+years more the old carpet did duty in their neat little parlor, and
+when it was at last replaced by a new one, the change was made for
+their own eyes, and not for the eyes of another.
+The Project Gutenberg Etext of After A Shadow and Other Stories
+by T. S. Arthur
+******This file should be named aasos10.txt or aasos10.zip******
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+Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, aasos11.txt
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+[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart
+and may be reprinted only when these eBooks are free of all fees.]
+[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales
+of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be they hardware or
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+
+*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END*
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of After A Shadow and Other Stories
+by T. S. Arthur
+
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