diff options
Diffstat (limited to '4594-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 4594-h/4594-h.htm | 13139 |
1 files changed, 13139 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/4594-h/4594-h.htm b/4594-h/4594-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8f90ad0 --- /dev/null +++ b/4594-h/4594-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13139 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Home Lights and Shadows, by T. S. Arthur +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Home Lights and Shadows, by T. S. Arthur + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Home Lights and Shadows + +Author: T. S. Arthur + +Posting Date: August 14, 2009 [EBook #4594] +Release Date: October, 2003 +First Posted: February 12, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOME LIGHTS AND SHADOWS *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +HOME LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +T. S. ARTHUR, +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +AUTHOR OF "LIFE PICTURES," "OLD MAN'S BRIDE," <BR>AND "SPARING TO SPEND." +</H4> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +NEW YORK: +<BR> +1853. +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS. +</H2> + +<H4> + <A HREF="#rights">RIGHTS AND WRONGS</A><BR> + <A HREF="#pharisee">THE HUMBLED PHARISEE</A><BR> + <A HREF="#romance">ROMANCE AND REALITY</A><BR> + <A HREF="#blame">BOTH TO BLAME</A><BR> + <A HREF="#business">IT'S NONE OF MY BUSINESS</A><BR> + <A HREF="#promise">THE MOTHER'S PROMISE</A><BR> + <A HREF="#husbands">THE TWO HUSBANDS</A><BR> + <A HREF="#neighbors">VISITING AS NEIGHBORS</A><BR> + <A HREF="#home">NOT AT HOME</A><BR> + <A HREF="#error">THE FATAL ERROR</A><BR> + <A HREF="#fashions">FOLLOWING THE FASHIONS</A><BR> + <A HREF="#dollar">A DOLLAR ON THE CONSCIENCE</A><BR> + <A HREF="#suggestion">AUNT MARY'S SUGGESTION</A><BR> + <A HREF="#poor">HELPING THE POOR</A><BR> + <A HREF="#people">COMMON PEOPLE</A><BR> + <A HREF="#sensation">MAKING A SENSATION</A><BR> + <A HREF="#cold">SOMETHING FOR A COLD</A><BR> + <A HREF="#portrait">THE PORTRAIT</A><BR> + <A HREF="#verypoor">VERY POOR</A><BR> +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PREFACE. +</H3> + +<P> +HOME! How at the word, a crowd of pleasant thoughts awaken. What +sun-bright images are pictured to the imagination. Yet, there is no +home without its shadows as well as sunshine. Love makes the +home-lights and selfishness the shadows. Ah! how dark the shadow at +times—how faint and fleeting the sunshine. How often selfishness +towers up to a giant height, barring out from our dwellings every +golden ray. There are few of us, who do not, at times, darken with +our presence the homes that should grow bright at our coming. It is +sad to acknowledge this; yet, in the very acknowledgement is a +promise of better things, for, it is rarely that we confess, without +a resolution to overcome the evil that mars our own and others' +happiness. Need we say, that the book now presented to the reader is +designed to aid in the work of overcoming what is evil and selfish, +that home-lights may dispel home-shadows, and keep them forever from +our dwellings. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="rights"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +RIGHTS AND WRONGS. +</H3> + +<P> +IT is a little singular—yet certainly true—that people who are +very tenacious of their own rights, and prompt in maintaining them, +usually have rather vague notions touching the rights of others. +Like the too eager merchant, in securing their own, they are very +apt to get a little more than belongs to them. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Barbara Uhler presented a notable instance of this. We cannot +exactly class her with the "strong-minded" women of the day. But she +had quite a leaning in that direction; and if not very strong-minded +herself, was so unfortunate as to number among her intimate friends +two or three ladies who had a fair title to the distinction. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Barbara Uhler was a wife and a mother. She was also a woman; +and her consciousness of this last named fact was never indistinct, +nor ever unmingled with a belligerent appreciation of the rights +appertaining to her sex and position. +</P> + +<P> +As for Mr. Herman Uhler, he was looked upon, abroad, as a mild, +reasonable, good sort of a man. At home, however, he was held in a +very different estimation. The "wife of his bosom" regarded him as +an exacting domestic tyrant; and, in opposing his will, she only +fell back, as she conceived, upon the first and most sacred law of +her nature. As to "obeying" him, she had scouted that idea from the +beginning. The words, "honor and obey," in the marriage service, she +had always declared, would have to be omitted when she stood at the +altar. But as she had, in her maidenhood, a very strong liking for +the handsome young Mr. Uhler, and, as she could not obtain so +material a change in the church ritual, as the one needed to meet +her case, she wisely made a virtue of necessity, and went to the +altar with her lover. The difficulty was reconciled to her own +conscience by a mental reservation. +</P> + +<P> +It is worthy of remark that above all other of the obligations here +solemnly entered into, this one, <I>not</I> to honor and obey her +husband, ever after remained prominent in the mind of Mrs. Barbara +Uhler. And it was no fruitless sentiment, as Mr. Herman Uhler could +feelingly testify. +</P> + +<P> +From the beginning it was clearly apparent to Mrs. Uhler that her +husband expected too much from her; that he regarded her as a kind +of upper servant in his household, and that he considered himself as +having a right to complain if things were not orderly and +comfortable. At first, she met his looks or words of displeasure, +when his meals, for instance, were late, or so badly cooked as to be +unhealthy and unpalatable, with— +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry, dear; but I can't help it." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure you can't help it, Barbara?" Mr. Uhler at length +ventured to ask, in as mild a tone of voice as his serious feelings +on the subject would enable him to assume. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Uhler's face flushed instantly, and she answered, with dignity: +</P> + +<P> +"I <I>am</I> sure, Mr. Uhler." +</P> + +<P> +It was the first time, in speaking to her husband, that she had said +"Mr. Uhler," in her life the first time she had ever looked at him +with so steady and defiant an aspect. +</P> + +<P> +Now, we cannot say how most men would have acted under similar +circumstances; we can only record what Mr. Uhler said and did: +</P> + +<P> +"And I am <I>not</I> sure, Mrs. Uhler," was his prompt, impulsive reply, +drawing himself up, and looking somewhat sternly at his better half. +</P> + +<P> +"You are not?" said Mrs. Uhler; and she compressed her lips tightly. +</P> + +<P> +"I am not," was the emphatic response. +</P> + +<P> +"And what do you expect me to do, pray?" came next from the lady's +lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Do as I do in my business," answered the gentleman. "Have competent +assistance, or see that things are done right yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"Go into the kitchen and cook the dinner, you mean, I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"You can put my meaning into any form of words you please, Barbara. +You have charge of this household, and it is your place to see that +everything due to the health and comfort of its inmates is properly +cared for. If those to whom you delegate so important a part of +domestic economy as the preparation of food, are ignorant or +careless, surely it is your duty to go into the kitchen daily, and +see that it is properly done. I never trust wholly to any individual +in my employment. There is no department of the business to which I +do not give personal attention. Were I to do so my customers would +pay little regard to excuses about ignorant workmen and careless +clerks. They would soon seek their goods in another and better +conducted establishment." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you had better seek your dinners elsewhere, if they are so +little to your fancy at home." +</P> + +<P> +This was the cool, defiant reply of the outraged Mrs. Uhler. +</P> + +<P> +Alas, for Mr. Herman Uhler; he had, so far as his wife was +concerned, committed the unpardonable sin; and the consequences +visited upon his transgression were so overwhelming that he gave up +the struggle in despair. Contention with such an antagonist, he saw, +from the instinct of self-preservation, would be utterly disastrous. +While little was to be gained, everything was in danger of being +lost. +</P> + +<P> +"I have nothing more to say," was his repeated answer to the running +fire which his wife kept up against him for a long time. "You are +mistress of the house; act your own pleasure. Thank you for the +suggestion about dinner. I may find it convenient to act thereon." +</P> + +<P> +The last part of this sentence was extorted by the continued +irritating language of Mrs. Uhler. Its utterance rather cooled the +lady's indignant ardor, and checked the sharp words that were +rattling from her tongue. A truce to open warfare was tacitly agreed +upon between the parties. The antagonism was not, however, the less +real. Mrs. Uhler knew that her husband expected of her a degree of +personal attention to household matters that she considered +degrading to her condition as a wife; and, because he <I>expected</I> +this, she, in order to maintain the dignity of her position, gave +even less attention to these matters than would otherwise have been +the case. Of course, under such administration of domestic affairs, +causes for dissatisfaction on the part of Mr. Uhler, were ever in +existence. For the most part he bore up under them with commendable +patience; but, there were times when weak human nature faltered by +the way—when, from heart-fulness the mouth would speak. This was +but to add new fuel to the flame. This only gave to Mrs. Uhler a +ground of argument against her husband as an unreasonable, +oppressive tyrant; as one of the large class of men who not only +regard woman as inferior, but who, in all cases of weak submission, +hesitate not to put a foot upon her neck. +</P> + +<P> +Some of the female associates, among whom Mrs. Uhler unfortunately +found herself thrown, were loud talkers about woman's rights and +man's tyranny; and to them, with a most unwife-like indelicacy of +speech, she did not hesitate to allude to her husband as one of the +class of men who would trample upon a woman if permitted to do so. +By these ladies she was urged to maintain her rights, to keep ever +in view the dignity and elevation of her sex, and to let man, the +tyrant, know, that a time was fast approaching when his haughty +pride would be humbled to the dust. +</P> + +<P> +And so Mrs. Uhler, under this kind of stimulus to the maintainance +of her own rights against the imaginary aggressions of her husband, +trampled upon his rights in numberless ways. +</P> + +<P> +As time wore on, no change for the better occurred. A woman does not +reason to just conclusions, either from facts or abstract principles +like man; but takes, for the most part, the directer road of +perception. If, therefore her womanly instincts are all right, her +conclusions will be true; but if they are wrong, false judgment is +inevitable. The instincts of Mrs. Uhler were wrong in the beginning, +and she was, in consequence, easily led by her associates, into +wrong estimates of both her own and her husband's position. +</P> + +<P> +One day, on coming home to dinner, Mr. Uhler was told by a servant, +that his wife had gone to an anti-slavery meeting, and would not get +back till evening, as she intended dining with a friend. Mr. Uhler +made no remark on receiving this information. A meagre, badly-cooked +dinner was served, to which he seated himself, alone, not to eat, +but to chew the cud of bitter fancies. Business, with Mr. Uhler, had +not been very prosperous of late; and he had suffered much from a +feeling of discouragement. Yet, for all this, his wife's demands for +money, were promptly met—and she was not inclined to be over +careful as to the range of her expenditures. +</P> + +<P> +There was a singular expression on the face of Mr. Uhler, as he left +his home on that day. Some new purpose had been formed in his mind, +or some good principle abandoned. He was a changed man—changed for +the worse, it may well be feared. +</P> + +<P> +It was late in the afternoon when Mrs. Uhler returned. To have +inquired of the servant whether Mr. Uhler had made any remark, when +he found that she was absent at dinner time, she would have regarded +as a betrayal to that personage of a sense of accountability on her +part. No; she stooped not to any inquiry of this kind—compromised +not the independence of the individual. +</P> + +<P> +The usual tea hour was at hand—but, strange to say, the punctual +Mr. Uhler did not make his appearance. For an hour the table stood +on the floor, awaiting his return, but he came not. Then Mrs. Uhler +gave her hungry, impatient little ones their suppers—singularly +enough, she had no appetite for food herself—and sent them to bed. +</P> + +<P> +Never since her marriage had Mrs. Uhler spent so troubled an evening +as that one proved to be. A dozen times she rallied herself—a dozen +times she appealed to her independence and individuality as a woman, +against the o'er-shadowing concern about her husband, which came +gradually stealing upon her mind. And with this uncomfortable +feeling were some intruding and unwelcome thoughts, that in no way +stimulated her self-approval. +</P> + +<P> +It was nearly eleven o'clock when Mr. Uhler came home; and then he +brought in his clothes such rank fumes of tobacco, and his breath +was so tainted with brandy, that his wife had no need of inquiry as +to where he had spent his evening. His countenance wore a look of +vacant unconcern. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! At home, are you?" said he, lightly, as he met his wife. "Did +you have a pleasant day of it?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Uhler was—frightened—shall we say? We must utter the word, +even though it meet the eyes of her "strong minded" friends, who +will be shocked to hear that one from whom they had hoped so much, +should be frightened by so insignificant a creature as a husband. +Yes, Mrs. Uhler was really frightened by this new aspect in which +her husband presented himself. She felt that she was in a dilemma, +to which, unhappily, there was not a single horn, much less choice +between two. +</P> + +<P> +We believe Mrs. Uhler did not sleep very well during the night. Her +husband, however, slept "like a log." On the next morning, her brow +was overcast; but his countenance wore a careless aspect. He chatted +with the children at the breakfast table, goodnaturedly, but said +little to his wife, who had penetration enough to see that he was +hiding his real feelings under an assumed exterior. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going to be home to dinner to-day?" said Mr. Uhler, +carelessly, as he arose from the table. He had only sipped part of a +cup of bad coffee. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly I am," was the rather sharp reply. The question irritated +the lady. +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't on my account," said Mr. Uhler. "I've engaged to dine +at the Astor with a friend." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, very well!" Mrs. Uhler bridled and looked dignified. Yet, her +flashing eyes showed that cutting words were ready to leap from her +tongue. And they would have come sharply on the air, had not the +manner of her husband been so unusual and really mysterious. In a +word, a vague fear kept her silent. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Uhler went to his store, but manifested little of his usual +interest and activity. Much that he had been in the habit of +attending to personally, he delegated to clerks. He dined at the +Astor, and spent most of the afternoon there, smoking, talking, and +drinking. At tea-time he came home. The eyes of Mrs. Uhler sought +his face anxiously as he came in. There was a veil of mystery upon +it, through which her eyes could not penetrate. Mr. Uhler remained +at home during the evening, but did not seem to be himself. On the +next morning, as he was about leaving the house, his wife said— +</P> + +<P> +"Can you let me have some money to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +Almost for the first time in her life, Mrs. Uhler asked this +question in a hesitating manner; and, for the first time, she saw +that her request was not favorably received. +</P> + +<P> +"How much do you want?" inquired the husband. +</P> + +<P> +"I should like to have a hundred dollars," said Mrs. Uhler. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry; but I can't let you have it," was answered. "I lost five +hundred dollars day before yesterday through the neglect of one of +my clerks, while I was riding out with some friends." +</P> + +<P> +"Riding out!" exclaimed Mrs. Uhler. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. You can't expect me to be always tied down to business. I like +a little recreation and pleasant intercourse with friends as much as +any one. Well, you see, a country dealer, who owed me five hundred +dollars, was in the city, and promised to call and settle on the +afternoon of day before yesterday. I explained to one of my clerks +what he must do when the customer came in, and, of course, expected +all to be done right. Not so, however. The man, when he found that +he had my clerk, and not me, to deal with, objected to some +unimportant charge in his bill, and the foolish fellow, instead of +yielding the point, insisted that the account was correct. The +customer went away, and paid out all his money in settling a bill +with one of my neighbors. And so I got nothing. Most likely, I shall +lose the whole account, as he is a slippery chap, and will, in all +probability, see it to be his interest to make a failure between +this and next spring. I just wanted that money to-day. Now I shall +have to be running around half the morning to make up the sum I +need." +</P> + +<P> +"But how could you go away under such circumstances, and trust all +to a clerk?" said Mrs. Uhler warmly, and with reproof in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"How could I!" was the quick response. "And do you suppose I am +going to tie myself down to the store like a slave! You are mistaken +if you do; that is all I have to say! I hire clerks to attend to my +business." +</P> + +<P> +"But suppose they are incompetent? What then?" Mrs. Uhler was very +earnest. +</P> + +<P> +"That doesn't in the least alter my character and position." Mr. +Uhler looked his wife fixedly in the face for some moments after +saying this, and then retired from the house without further remark. +</P> + +<P> +The change in her husband, which Mrs. Uhler at first tried to make +herself believe was mere assumption or caprice, proved, unhappily, a +permanent state. He neglected his business and his home for social +companions; and whenever asked by his wife for supplies of cash, +invariably gave as a reason why he could not supply her want, the +fact of some new loss of custom, or money, in consequence of +neglect, carelessness, or incompetency of clerks or workmen, when he +was away, enjoying himself. +</P> + +<P> +For a long time, Mrs. Uhler's independent spirit struggled against +the humiliating necessity that daily twined its coils closer and +closer around her. More and more clearly did she see, in her +husband's wrong conduct, a reflection of her own wrong deeds in the +beginning. It was hard for her to acknowledge that she had been in +error—even to herself. But conviction lifted before her mind, +daily, its rebuking finger, and she could not shut the vision out. +</P> + +<P> +Neglect of business brought its disastrous consequences. In the end +there was a failure; and yet, to the end, Mr. Uhler excused his +conduct on the ground that he wasn't going to tie himself down like +a galley slave to the oar—wasn't going to stoop to the drudgery he +had employed clerks to perform. This was all his wife could gain +from him in reply to her frequent remonstrances. +</P> + +<P> +Up to this time, Mr. Uhler had resisted the better suggestions +which, in lucid intervals, if we may so call them, were thrown into +her mind. Pride would not let her give to her household duties that +personal care which their rightful performance demanded; the more +particularly, as, in much of her husband's conduct, she plainly saw +rebuke. +</P> + +<P> +At last, poverty, that stern oppressor, drove the Uhlers out from +their pleasant home, and they shrunk away into obscurity, privation, +and want. In the last interview held by Mrs. Uhler with the "strong +minded" friends, whose society had so long thrown its fascinations +around her, and whose views and opinions had so long exercised a +baleful influence over her home, she was urgently advised to abandon +her husband, whom one of the number did not hesitate to denounce in +language so coarse and disgusting, that the latent instincts of the +wife were shocked beyond measure. Her husband was not the brutal, +sensual tyrant this refined lady, in her intemperate zeal, +represented him. None knew the picture to be so false as Mrs. Uhler, +and all that was good and true in her rose up in indignant +rebellion. +</P> + +<P> +To her poor, comfortless home, and neglected children, Mrs. Uhler +returned in a state of mind so different from anything she had +experienced for years, that she half wondered within herself if she +were really the same woman. Scales had fallen suddenly from her +eyes, and she saw every thing around her in new aspects and new +relations. +</P> + +<P> +"Has my husband really been an exacting tyrant?" This question she +propounded to herself almost involuntarily. "Did he trample upon my +rights in the beginning, or did I trample upon his? He had a right +to expect from me the best service I could render, in making his +home comfortable and happy. Did I render that service? did I see in +my home duties my highest obligation as a wife? have I been a true +wife to him?" +</P> + +<P> +So rapidly came these rebuking interrogations upon the mind of Mrs. +Uhler, that it almost seemed as if an accuser stood near, and +uttered the questions aloud. And how did she respond? Not in self +justification. Convinced, humbled, repentant, she sought her home. +</P> + +<P> +It was late in the afternoon, almost evening, when Mrs. Uhler passed +the threshold of her own door. The cry of a child reached her ears +the moment she entered, and she knew, in an instant, that it was a +cry of suffering, not anger or ill nature. Hurrying to her chamber, +she found her three little ones huddled together on the floor, the +youngest with one of its arms and the side of its face badly burned +in consequence of its clothes having taken fire. As well as she +could learn, the girl in whose charge she had left the children, and +who, in the reduced circumstances of the family, was constituted +doer of all work, had, from some pique, gone away in her absence. +Thus left free to go where, and do what they pleased, the children +had amused themselves in playing with the fire. When the clothes of +the youngest caught in the blaze of a lighted stick, the two oldest, +with singular presence of mind, threw around her a wet towel that +hung near, and thus saved her life. +</P> + +<P> +"Has your father been home?" asked Mrs. Uhler, as soon as she +comprehended the scene before her. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ma'am," was answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is he?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's gone for the doctor," replied the oldest of the children. +</P> + +<P> +"What did he say?" This question was involuntary. The child +hesitated for a moment, and then replied artlessly— +</P> + +<P> +"He said he wished we had no mother, and then he'd know how to take +care of us himself." +</P> + +<P> +The words came with the force of a blow. Mrs. Uhler staggered +backwards, and sunk upon a chair, weak, for a brief time, as an +infant. Ere yet her strength returned, her husband came in with a +doctor. He did not seem to notice her presence; but she soon made +that apparent. All the mother's heart was suddenly alive in her. She +was not over officious—had little to say; but her actions were all +to the purpose. In due time, the little sufferer was in a +comfortable state and the doctor retired. +</P> + +<P> +Not a word had, up to this moment, passed between the husband and +wife. Now, the eyes of the latter sought those of Mr. Uhler; but +there came no answering glance. His face was sternly averted. +</P> + +<P> +Darkness was now beginning to fall, and Mrs. Uhler left her husband +and children, and went down into the kitchen. The fire had burned +low; and was nearly extinguished. The girl had not returned; and, +from what Mrs. Uhler gathered from the children would not, she +presumed, come back to them again. It mattered not, however; Mrs. +Uhler was in no state of mind to regard this as a cause of trouble. +She rather felt relieved by her absence. Soon the fire was +rekindled; the kettle simmering; and, in due time, a comfortable +supper was on the table, prepared by her own hands, and well +prepared too. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Uhler was a little taken by surprise, when, on being summoned to +tea, he took his place at the usually uninviting table, and saw +before him a dish of well made toast, and a plate of nicely boiled +ham. He said nothing; but a sensation of pleasure, so warm that it +made his heart beat quicker, pervaded his bosom; and this was +increased, when he placed the cup of well made, fragrant tea to his +lips, and took a long delicious draught. All had been prepared by +the hands of his wife—that he knew. How quickly his pleasure sighed +itself away, as he remembered that, with her ample ability to make +his home the pleasantest place for him in the world, she was wholly +wanting in inclination. +</P> + +<P> +Usually, the husband spent his evenings away. Something caused him +to linger in his own home on this occasion. Few words passed between +him and his wife; but the latter was active through all the evening, +and, wherever her hand was laid, order seemed to grow up from +disorder; and the light glinted back from a hundred places in the +room, where no cheerful reflection had ever met his eyes before. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Uhler looked on, in wonder and hope, but said nothing. Strange +enough, Mrs. Uhler was up by day-dawn on the next morning; and in +due time, a very comfortable breakfast was prepared by her own +hands. Mr. Uhler ventured a word of praise, as he sipped his coffee. +Never had he tasted finer in his life, he said. Mrs. Uhler looked +gratified; but offered no response. +</P> + +<P> +At dinner time Mr. Uhler came home from the store, where he was now +employed at a small salary, and still more to his surprise, found a +well cooked and well served meal awaiting him. Never, since his +marriage, had he eaten food at his own table with so true a +relish—never before had every thing in his house seemed so much +like home. +</P> + +<P> +And so things went on for a week, Mr. Uhler wondering and observant, +and Mrs. Uhler finding her own sweet reward, not only in a +consciousness of duty, but in seeing a great change in her husband, +who was no longer moody and ill-natured, and who had not been absent +once at meal time, nor during an evening, since she had striven to +be to him a good wife, and to her children a self denying mother. +</P> + +<P> +There came, now, to be a sort of tacit emulation of good offices +between the wife and husband, who had, for so many years, lived in a +state of partial indifference. Mr. Uhler urged the procuring of a +domestic, in place of the girl who had left them, but Mrs. Uhler +said no—their circumstances would not justify the expense. Mr. +Uhler said they could very well afford it, and intimated something +about an expected advance in his salary. +</P> + +<P> +"I do not wish to see you a mere household drudge," he said to her +one day, a few weeks after the change just noted. "You know so well +how every thing ought to be done, that the office of director alone +should be yours. I think there is a brighter day coming for us. I +hope so. From the first of next month, my salary is to be increased +to a thousand dollars. Then we will move from this poor place, into +a better home." +</P> + +<P> +There was a blending of hopefulness and tenderness in the voice of +Mr. Uhler, that touched his wife deeply. Overcome by her feelings, +she laid her face upon his bosom, and wept. +</P> + +<P> +"Whether the day be brighter or darker," she said, when she could +speak calmly, "God helping me, I will be to you a true wife, Herman. +If there be clouds and storms without, the hearth shall only burn +the brighter for you within. Forgive me for the past, dear husband! +and have faith in me for the future. You shall not be disappointed." +</P> + +<P> +And he was not. Mrs. Uhler had discovered her true relation, and had +become conscious of her true duties. She was no longer jealous of +her own rights, and therefore never trespassed on the rights of her +husband. +</P> + +<P> +The rapidity with which Mr. Uhler rose to his old position in +business, sometimes caused a feeling of wonder to pervade the mind +of his wife. From a clerk of one thousand, he soon came into the +receipt of two thousand a year, then rose to be a partner in the +business, and in a singularly short period was a man of wealth. Mrs. +Uhler was puzzled, sometimes, at this, and so were other people. It +was even hinted, that he had never been as poor as was pretended. Be +that as it may, as he never afterwards trusted important matters to +the discretion of irresponsible clerks, his business operations went +on prosperously; and, on the other hand, as Mrs. Uhler never again +left the comfort and health of her family entirely in the hands of +ignorant and careless domestics, the home of her husband was the +pleasantest place in the world for him, and his wife, not a mere +upper servant, but a loving and intelligent companion, whom he cared +for and cherished with the utmost tenderness. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="pharisee"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE HUMBLED PHARISEE. +</H3> + +<P> +"WHAT was that?" exclaimed Mrs. Andrews, to the lady who was seated +next to her, as a single strain of music vibrated for a few moments +on the atmosphere. +</P> + +<P> +"A violin, I suppose," was answered. +</P> + +<P> +"A violin!" An expression almost of horror came into the countenance +of Mrs. Andrews. "It can't be possible." +</P> + +<P> +It was possible, however, for the sound came again, prolonged and +varied. +</P> + +<P> +"What does it mean?" asked Mrs. Andrews, looking troubled, and +moving uneasily in her chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Cotillions, I presume," was answered, carelessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Not dancing, surely!" +</P> + +<P> +But, even as Mrs. Andrews said this, a man entered, carrying in his +hand a violin. There was an instant movement on the part of several +younger members of the company; partners were chosen, and ere Mrs. +Andrews had time to collect her suddenly bewildered thoughts, the +music had struck up, and the dancers were in motion. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't remain here. It's an outrage!" said Mrs. Andrews, making a +motion to rise. +</P> + +<P> +The lady by whom she was sitting comprehended now more clearly her +state of mind, and laying a hand on her arm, gently restrained her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not remain? What is an outrage, Mrs. Andrews?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Burdick knew very well that I was a member of the church." The +lady's manner was indignant. +</P> + +<P> +"All your friends know that, Mrs. Andrews," replied the other. A +third person might have detected in her tones a lurking sarcasm. But +this was not perceived by the individual addressed. "But what is +wrong?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wrong! Isn't that wrong?" And she glanced towards the mazy wreath +of human figures already circling on the floor. "I could not have +believed it of Mrs. Burdick; she knew that I was a professor of +religion." +</P> + +<P> +"She doesn't expect you to dance, Mrs. Andrews," said the lady. +</P> + +<P> +"But she expects me to countenance the sin and folly by my +presence." +</P> + +<P> +"Sin and folly are strong terms, Mrs. Andrews." +</P> + +<P> +"I know they are, and I use them advisedly. I hold it a sin to +dance." +</P> + +<P> +"I know wise and good people who hold a different opinion." +</P> + +<P> +"Wise and good!" Mrs. Andrews spoke with strong disgust. "I wouldn't +give much for their wisdom and goodness—not I!" +</P> + +<P> +"The true qualities of men and women are best seen at home. When +people go abroad, they generally change their attire—mental as well +as bodily. Now, I have seen the home-life of certain ladies, who do +not think it sin to dance, and it was full of the heart's warm +sunshine; and I have seen the home-life of certain ladies who hold +dancing to be sinful, and I have said to myself, half shudderingly: +"What child can breathe that atmosphere for years, and not grow up +with a clouded spirit, and a fountain of bitterness in the heart!" +</P> + +<P> +"And so you mean to say," Mrs. Andrews spoke with some asperity of +manner, "that dancing makes people better?—Is, in fact, a means of +grace?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. I say no such thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Then what do you mean to say? I draw the only conclusion I can +make." +</P> + +<P> +"One may grow better or worse from dancing," said the lady. "All +will depend on the spirit in which the recreation is indulged. In +itself the act is innocent." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Andrews shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"In what does its sin consist?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is an idle waste of time." +</P> + +<P> +"Can you say nothing worse of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I could, but delicacy keeps me silent." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ever dance?" +</P> + +<P> +"Me? What a question! No!" +</P> + +<P> +"I have danced often. And, let me say, that your inference on the +score of indelicacy is altogether an assumption." +</P> + +<P> +"Why everybody admits that." +</P> + +<P> +"Not by any means." +</P> + +<P> +"If the descriptions of some of the midnight balls and assemblies +that I have heard, of the waltzing, and all that, be true, then +nothing could be more indelicate,—nothing more injurious to the +young and innocent." +</P> + +<P> +"All good things become evil in their perversions," said the lady. +"And I will readily agree with you, that dancing is perverted, and +its use, as a means of social recreation, most sadly changed into +what is injurious. The same may be said of church going." +</P> + +<P> +"You shock me," said Mrs. Andrews. "Excuse me, but you are profane." +</P> + +<P> +"I trust not. For true religion—for the holy things of the +church—I trust that I have the most profound reverence. But let me +prove what I say, that even church going may become evil." +</P> + +<P> +"I am all attention," said the incredulous Mrs. Andrews. +</P> + +<P> +"You can bear plain speaking." +</P> + +<P> +"Me!" The church member looked surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you." +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly I can. But why do you ask?" +</P> + +<P> +"To put you on your guard,—nothing more." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't fear but what I can bear all the plain speaking you may +venture upon. As to church going being evil, I am ready to prove the +negative against any allegations you can advance. So speak on." +</P> + +<P> +After a slight pause, to collect her thoughts, the lady said: +</P> + +<P> +"There has been a protracted meeting in Mr. B——'s church." +</P> + +<P> +"I know it. And a blessed time it was." +</P> + +<P> +"You attended?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, every day; and greatly was my soul refreshed and +strengthened." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you see Mrs. Eldridge there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Eldridge? No indeed, except on Sunday. She's too +worldly-minded for that." +</P> + +<P> +"She has a pew in your church." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; and comes every Sunday morning because it is fashionable and +respectable to go to church. As for her religion, it isn't worth +much and will hardly stand her at the last day." +</P> + +<P> +"Why Mrs. Andrews! You shock me! Have you seen into her heart? Do +you know her purposes? Judge not, that ye be not judged, is the +divine injunction." +</P> + +<P> +"A tree is known by its fruit," said Mrs. Andrews, who felt the +rebuke, and slightly colored. +</P> + +<P> +"True; and by their fruits shall ye know them," replied the lady. +"But come, there are too many around us here for this earnest +conversation. We will take a quarter of an hour to ourselves in one +of the less crowded rooms. No one will observe our absence, and you +will be freed from the annoyance of these dancers." +</P> + +<P> +The two ladies quietly retired from the drawing rooms. As soon as +they were more alone, the last speaker resumed. +</P> + +<P> +"By their fruits ye shall know them. Do men gather grapes of thorns, +or figs of thistles? Let me relate what I saw and heard in the +families of two ladies during this protracted meeting. One of these +ladies was Mrs. Eldridge. I was passing in her neighborhood about +four o'clock, and as I owed her a call, thought the opportunity a +good one for returning it. On entering, my ears caught the blended +music of a piano, and children's happy voices. From the front +parlor, through the partly opened door, a sight, beautiful to my +eyes, was revealed. Mrs. Eldridge was seated at the instrument, her +sweet babe asleep on one arm, while, with a single hand, she was +touching the notes of a familiar air, to which four children were +dancing. A more innocent, loving, happy group I have never seen. For +nearly ten minutes I gazed upon them unobserved, so interested that +I forgot the questionable propriety of my conduct, and during that +time, not an unkind word was uttered by one of the children, nor did +anything occur to mar the harmony of the scene. It was a sight on +which angels could have looked, nay, did look with pleasure; for, +whenever hearts are tuned to good affections, angels are present. +The music was suspended, and the dancing ceased, as I presented +myself. The mother greeted me with a happy smile, and each of the +children spoke to her visitor with an air at once polite and +respectful. +</P> + +<P> +"'I've turned nurse for the afternoon, you see,' said Mrs. Eldridge, +cheerfully. 'It's Alice's day to go out, and I never like to trust +our little ones with the chambermaid, who is n't over fond of +children. We generally have a good time on these occasions, for I +give myself up to them entirely. They've read, and played, and told +stories, until tired, and now I've just brightened them up, body and +mind, with a dance.' +</P> + +<P> +"And bright and happy they all looked. +</P> + +<P> +"'Now run up into the nursery for a little while, and build block +houses,' said she, 'while I have a little pleasant talk with my +friend. That's good children. And I want you to be very quiet, for +dear little Eddy is fast asleep, and I'm going to lay him in his +crib.' +</P> + +<P> +"Away went the children, and I heard no more of them for the half +hour during which I staid. With the child in her arms, Mrs. Eldridge +went up to her chamber, and I went with her. As she was laying him +in the crib, I took from the mantle a small porcelain figure of a +kneeling child, and was examining it, when she turned to me. 'Very +beautiful,' said I. 'It is,' she replied.—'We call it our Eddy, +saying his prayers. There is a history attached to it. Very early I +teach my little ones to say an evening prayer. First impressions are +never wholly effaced; I therefore seek to implant, in the very +dawning of thought, an idea of God, and our dependence on him for +life and all our blessings, knowing that, if duly fixed, this idea +will ever remain, and be the vessel, in after years, for the +reception of truth flowing down from the great source of all truth. +Strangely enough, my little Eddy, so sweet in temper as he was, +steadily refused to say his prayers. I tried in every way that I +could think of to induce him to kneel with the other children, and +repeat a few simple words; but not his aversion thereto was +unconquerable. I at last grew really troubled about it. There seemed +to be a vein in his character that argued no good. One day I saw +this kneeling child in a store. With the sight of it came the +thought of how I might use it. I bought the figure, and did not show +it to Eddy until he was about going to bed. The effect was all I had +hoped to produce. He looked at it for some moments earnestly, then +dropped on his little knees, clasped his white hands, and murmured +the prayer I had so long and so vainly striven to make him repeat.' +</P> + +<P> +"Tears were in the eyes of Mrs. Eldridge, as she uttered the closing +words. I felt that she was a true mother, and loved her children +with a high and holy love. And now, let me give you a picture that +strongly contrasts with this. Not far from Mrs. Eldridge, resides a +lady, who is remarkable for her devotion to the church, and, I am +compelled to say, want of charity towards all who happen to differ +with her—more particularly, if the difference involves church +matters. It was after sundown; still being in the neighborhood, I +embraced the opportunity to make a call. On ringing the bell, I +heard, immediately, a clatter of feet down the stairs and along the +passage, accompanied by children's voices, loud and boisterous. It +was some time before the door was opened, for each of the four +children, wishing to perform the office, each resisted the others' +attempts to admit the visitor. Angry exclamations, rude outcries, +ill names, and struggles for the advantage continued, until the +cook, attracted from the kitchen by the noise, arrived at the scene +of contention, and after jerking the children so roughly as to set +the two youngest crying, swung it open, and I entered. On gaining +the parlor, I asked for the mother of these children. +</P> + +<P> +"'She isn't at home,' said the cook. +</P> + +<P> +"'She's gone to church,' said the oldest of the children. +</P> + +<P> +"'I wish she'd stay at home,' remarked cook in a very disrespectful +way, and with a manner that showed her to be much fretted in her +mind. 'It's Mary's day out, and she knows I can't do anything with +the children. Such children I never saw! They don't mind a word you +say, and quarrel so among themselves, that it makes one sick to hear +them.' +</P> + +<P> +"At this moment a headless doll struck against the side of my neck. +It had been thrown by one child at another; missing her aim, she +gave me the benefit of her evil intention. At this, cook lost all +patience, and seizing the offending little one, boxed her soundly, +before I could interfere. The language used by that child, as she +escaped from the cook's hands, was shocking. It made my flesh creep! +</P> + +<P> +"'Did I understand you to say that your mother had gone to church?' +I asked of the oldest child. +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes, ma'am,' was answered. 'She's been every day this week. +There's a protracted meeting.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Give me that book!' screamed a child, at this moment. Glancing +across the room, I saw two of the little ones contending for +possession of a large family Bible, which lay upon a small table. +Before I could reach them, for I started forward, from an impulse of +the moment, the table was thrown over, the marble top broken, and +the cover torn from the sacred volume." +</P> + +<P> +The face of Mrs. Andrews became instantly of a deep crimson. Not +seeming to notice this, her friend continued. +</P> + +<P> +"As the table fell, it came within an inch of striking another child +on the head, who had seated himself on the floor. Had it done so, a +fractured skull, perhaps instant death, would have been the +consequence." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Andrews caught her breath, and grew very pale. The other +continued. +</P> + +<P> +"In the midst of the confusion that followed, the father came home. +</P> + +<P> +"'Where is your mother?' he asked of one of the children. +</P> + +<P> +"'Gone to church,' was replied. +</P> + +<P> +"'O dear!' I can hear his voice now, with its tone of +hopelessness,—'This church-going mania is dreadful. I tell my wife +that it is all wrong. That her best service to God is to bring up +her children in the love of what is good and true,—in filial +obedience and fraternal affection. But it avails not.' +</P> + +<P> +"And now, Mrs. Andrews," continued the lady, not in the least +appearing to notice the distress and confusion of her over-pious +friend, whom she had placed upon the rack, "When God comes to make +up his jewels, and says to Mrs. Eldridge, and also to this mother +who thought more of church-going than of her precious little ones, +'Where are the children I gave you?' which do you think will be most +likely to answer, 'Here they are, not one is lost?'" +</P> + +<P> +"Have I not clearly shown you that even church-going may be +perverted into an evil? That piety may attain an inordinate growth, +while charity is dead at the root? Spiritual pride; a vain conceit +of superior goodness because of the observance of certain forms and +ceremonies, is the error into which too many devout religionists +fall. But God sees not as man seeth. He looks into the heart, and +judges his creatures by the motives that rule them." +</P> + +<P> +And, as she said this, she arose, the silent and rebuked Mrs. +Andrews, whose own picture had been drawn, following her down to the +gay drawing rooms. +</P> + +<P> +Many a purer heart than that of the humbled Pharisee beat there +beneath the bosoms of happy maidens even though their feet were +rising and falling in time to witching melodies. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="romance"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ROMANCE AND REALITY. +</H3> + +<P> +"I MET with a most splendid girl last evening," remarked to his +friend a young man, whose fine, intellectual forehead, and clear +bright eye, gave indications of more than ordinary mental +endowments. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is she?" was the friend's brief question. +</P> + +<P> +"Her name is Adelaide Merton. Have you ever seen her?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, but I have often heard of the young lady." +</P> + +<P> +"As a girl of more than ordinary intelligence?" +</P> + +<P> +"O yes. Don't you remember the beautiful little gems of poetry that +used to appear in the Gazette, under the signature of Adelaide?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. Some of them were exquisite, and all indicative of a +fine mind. Was she their author?" +</P> + +<P> +"So I have been told." +</P> + +<P> +"I can very readily believe it; for never have I met with a woman +who possessed such a brilliant intellect. Her power of expression is +almost unbounded. Her sentences are perfect pictures of the scenes +she describes. If she speaks of a landscape, not one of its most +minute features is lost, nor one of the accessories to its +perfection as a whole overlooked. And so of every thing else, in the +higher regions of the intellect, or in the lower forms of nature. +For my own part, I was lost in admiration of her qualities. She will +yet shine in the world." +</P> + +<P> +The young man who thus expressed himself in regard to Adelaide +Merton, was named Charles Fenwick. He possessed a brilliant mind, +which had been well stored. But his views of life were altogether +perverted and erroneous, and his ends deeply tinctured with the love +of distinction, for its own sake. A few tolerably successful +literary efforts, had been met by injudicious over praise, leading +him to the vain conclusion that his abilities were of so high a +character, that no field of action was for him a worthy one that had +any thing to do with what he was pleased to term the ordinary +grovelling pursuits of life. Of course, all mere mechanical +operations were despised, and as a natural consequence, the men who +were engaged in them. So with merchandizing, and also with the +various branches of productive enterprise. They were mere ministers +of the base physical wants of our nature. His mind took in higher +aims than these! +</P> + +<P> +His father was a merchant in moderate circumstances, engaged in a +calling which was of course despised by the son, notwithstanding he +was indebted to his father's constant devotion to that calling for +his education, and all the means of comfort and supposed distinction +that he enjoyed. The first intention of the elder Mr. Fenwick had +been to qualify his son, thoroughly, for the calling of a merchant, +that he might enter into business with him and receive the benefits +of his experience and facilities in trade. But about the age of +seventeen, while yet at college, young Fenwick made the unfortunate +discovery that he could produce a species of composition which he +called poetry. His efforts were praised—and this induced him to go +on; until he learned the art of tolerably smooth versification. This +would all have been well enough had he not imagined himself to be, +in consequence, of vastly increased importance. Stimulated by this +idea, he prosecuted his collegiate studies with renewed diligence, +storing a strong and comprehensive mind with facts and principles in +science and philosophy, that would have given him, in after life, no +ordinary power of usefulness as a literary and professional man, had +not his selfish ends paralysed and perverted the natural energies of +a good intellect. +</P> + +<P> +The father's intention of making him a merchant was, of course, +opposed by the son, who chose one of the learned profession as more +honorable—not more useful; a profession that would give him +distinction—not enable him to fill his right place in society. In +this he was gratified. At the time of his introduction to the +reader, he was known as a young physician without a patient. He had +graduated, but had not yet seen any occasion for taking an office, +as his father's purse supplied all his wants. His pursuits were +mainly literary—consisting of essays and reviews for some of the +periodicals intermixed with a liberal seasoning of pretty fair +rhymes which rose occasionally to the dignity of poetry—or, as he +supposed, to the lofty strains of a Milton or a Dante. Occasionally +a lecture before some literary association brought his name into the +newspapers in connection with remarks that kindled his vanity into a +flame. Debating clubs afforded another field for display, and he +made liberal use of the facility. So much for Charles Fenwick. +</P> + +<P> +Of Adelaide Merton, we may remark, that she was just the kind of a +woman to captivate a young man of Fenwick's character. She was showy +in her style of conversation, but exceedingly superficial. Her +reading consisted principally of poetry and the popular light +literature of the day, with a smattering of history. She could +repeat, in quite an attractive style, many fine passages from Homer, +Virgil, Milton, Shakspeare, Pope, Byron, Shelley, Coleridge, and a +host of lesser lights in the poetic hemisphere—and could quote from +and criticise the philosophy and style of Bulwer with the most +edifying self-satisfaction imaginable—not to enumerate her many +other remarkable characteristics. +</P> + +<P> +A second visit to Adelaide confirmed the first favorable impression +made upon the mind of Fenwick. At the third visit he was half in +love with her, and she more than half in love with him. A fourth +interview completed the work on both sides. At the fifth, the +following conversation terminated the pleasant intercourse of the +evening. They were seated on a sofa, and had been talking of poetry, +and birds, and flowers, green fields, and smiling landscapes, and a +dozen other things not necessary to be repeated at present. A pause +of some moments finally succeeded, and each seemed deeply absorbed +in thought. +</P> + +<P> +"Adelaide," at length the young man said in a low, musical tone, +full of richness and pathos—"Do you not feel, sometimes, when your +mind rises into the region of pure thoughts, and ranges free among +the beautiful and glorious images that then come and go like angel +visitants, a sense of loneliness, because another cannot share what +brings to you such exquisite delight?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—often and often," replied the maiden lifting her eyes to those +of Fenwick, and gazing at him with a tender expression. +</P> + +<P> +"And yet few there are, Adelaide, few indeed who could share such +elevating pleasures." +</P> + +<P> +"Few, indeed," was the response. +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me, for saying," resumed the young man, "that to you I have +been indebted for such added delights. Rarely, indeed, have I been +able to find, especially among your gentler sex, one who could rise +with me into the refining, elevating, exquisite pleasures of the +imagination. But you have seemed fully to appreciate my sentiments, +and fully to sympathize with them." +</P> + +<P> +To this Adelaide held down her head for a moment or two, the +position causing the blood to deepen in her cheeks and forehead. +Then looking up with an expression of lofty poetic feeling she +said— +</P> + +<P> +"And, until I met you, Mr. Fenwick, I must be frank in saying, that +I have known no one, whose current of thought and feeling—no one +whose love of the beautiful in the ideal or natural—has seemed so +perfect a reflection of my own." +</P> + +<P> +To this followed another pause, longer and more thoughtful than the +first. It was at length broken by Fenwick, who said, in a voice that +trembled perceptibly. +</P> + +<P> +"I have an inward consciousness, that sprung into activity when the +first low murmur of your voice fell upon my ear, that you were to me +a kindred spirit. Since that moment, this consciousness has grown +daily more and more distinct, and now I feel impelled, by a movement +which I cannot resist, to declare its existence. First pardon this +freedom, Adelaide, and then say if you understand and appreciate +what I have uttered in all frankness and sincerity?" +</P> + +<P> +Not long did our young friend wait for an answer that made him +happier than he had ever been in his life—happy in the first +thrilling consciousness of love deeply and fervently reciprocated. +To both of them, there was a degree of romance about this brief +courtship that fully accorded with their views of love truly so +called. The ordinary cold matter-of-fact way of coming together, +including a cautious and even at times a suspicious investigation of +character, they despised as a mere mockery of the high, spontaneous +confidence which those who are truly capable of loving, feel in each +other—a confidence which nothing can shake. And thus did they +pledge themselves without either having thought of the other's moral +qualities; or either of them having formed any distinct ideas in +regard to the true nature of the marriage relation. +</P> + +<P> +A few months sufficed to consummate their union, when, in accordance +with the gay young couple's desire, old Mr. Fenwick furnished them +out handsomely, at a pretty heavy expense, in an establishment of +their own. As Charles Fenwick had not, heretofore, shown any +inclination to enter upon the practice of the profession he had +chosen, his father gently urged upon him the necessity of now doing +so. But the idea of becoming a practical doctor, was one that +Charles could not abide. He had no objection to the title, for that +sounded quite musical to his ear; but no farther than that did his +fancy lead him. +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't I choose the law as a profession?" he would sometimes +say to his young wife. "Then I might have shone. But to bury myself +as a physician, stealing about from house to house, and moping over +sick beds, is a sacrifice of my talents that I cannot think of +without turning from the picture with disgust." +</P> + +<P> +"Nor can I," would be the wife's reply. "And what is more, I never +will consent to such a perversion of your talents." +</P> + +<P> +"Why cannot you study law, even now, Charles?" she asked of him one +day. "With your acquirements, and habits of thought, I am sure you +would soon be able to pass an examination." +</P> + +<P> +"I think that is a good suggestion, Adelaide," her husband replied, +thoughtfully. "I should only want a year or eighteen months for +preparation, and then I could soon place myself in the front rank of +the profession." +</P> + +<P> +The suggestion of Charles Fenwick's wife was promptly adopted. A +course of legal studies was entered upon, and completed in about two +years. Up to this time, every thing had gone on with our young +couple as smoothly as a summer sea. A beautifully furnished house, +well kept through the attention of two or three servants, gave to +their indoor enjoyments a very important accessory. For money there +was no care, as the elder Mr. Fenwick's purse-strings relaxed as +readily to the hand of Charles as to his own. A pleasant round of +intelligent company, mostly of a literary character, with a full +supply of all the new publications and leading periodicals of the +day, kept their minds elevated into the region of intellectual +enjoyments, and caused them still more to look down upon the +ordinary pursuits of life as far beneath them. +</P> + +<P> +But all this could not last forever. On the day Charles was admitted +to the bar, he received a note from his father, requesting an +immediate interview. He repaired at once to his counting room, in +answer to the parental summons. +</P> + +<P> +"Charles," said the old man, when they were alone, "I have, up to +this time, supplied all your wants, and have done it cheerfully. In +order to prepare you for taking your right place in society, I have +spared no expense in your education, bearing you, after your term of +college life had expired, through two professional courses, so that, +as either a physician or a lawyer, you are fully equal to the task +of sustaining yourself and family. As far as I am concerned, the +tide of prosperity has evidently turned against me. For two years, I +have felt myself gradually going back, instead of forward, +notwithstanding my most earnest struggles to maintain at least the +position already gained. To-day, the notice of a heavy loss +completes my inability to bear the burden of your support, and that +of my own family. You must, therefore, Charles, enter the world for +yourself, and there struggle as I have done, and as all do around +you, for a living. But, as I know that it will be impossible for you +to obtain sufficient practice at once in either law or medicine to +maintain yourself, I will spare you out of my income, which will now +be small in comparison to what it has been, four hundred dollars a +year, for the next two years. You must yourself make up the +deficiency, and no doubt you can easily do so." +</P> + +<P> +"But, father," replied the young man, his face turning pale, "I +cannot, possibly, make up the deficiency. Our rent alone, you know, +is four hundred dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"I am aware of that, Charles. But what then? You must get a house at +one half that rent, and reduce your style of living, proportionably, +in other respects." +</P> + +<P> +"What! And compromise my standing in society? I can never do that, +father." +</P> + +<P> +"Charles," said the old man, looking at his son with a sterner +countenance than he had ever yet put on when speaking to him, +"remember that you have no standing in society which you can truly +call your own. I have, heretofore, held you up, and now that my +sustaining hand is about to be withdrawn, you must fall or rise to +your own level. And I am satisfied, that the sooner you are +permitted to do so the better." +</P> + +<P> +The fact was, that the selfish, and to old Mr. Fenwick, the +heartless manner in which Charles had received the communication of +his changed circumstances, had wounded him exceedingly, and suddenly +opened his eyes to the false relation which his son was holding to +society. +</P> + +<P> +"You certainly cannot be in earnest, father," the son replied, after +a few moments of hurried and painful thought, "in declaring your +intention of throwing me off with a meagre pittance of four hundred +dollars, before I have had a chance to do any thing for myself. How +can I possibly get along on that sum?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do not expect you to live on that, Charles. But the difference +you will have to make up yourself. You have talents and +acquirements. Bring them into useful activity, and you will need +little of my assistance. As for me, as I have already told you, the +tide of success is against me, and I am gradually moving down the +stream. Four hundred dollars is the extent of what I can give you, +and how long the ability to do that may last, Heaven only knows." +</P> + +<P> +Reluctantly the young couple were compelled to give up their +elegantly arranged dwelling, and move into a house of about one half +of its dimensions. In this there was a fixed, cold, common place +reality, that shocked the sensibilities of both even though +throughout the progress of the change, each had remained passive in +the hands of the elder Mr. and Mrs. Fenwick, who had to choose them +a house, and attend to all the arrangements of moving and refitting +the new home. For Charles to have engaged in the vulgar business of +moving household furniture, would have been felt as a disgrace;—and +as for Adelaide, she didn't know how to do any thing in regard to +the matter, and even if she had, would have esteemed such an +employment as entirely beneath her. +</P> + +<P> +While the packing up was going on under the direction of her +husband's mother, Adelaide, half dressed, with an elegant shawl +thrown carelessly about her shoulders, her feet drawn up and her +body reclining upon a sofa, was deeply buried in the last new novel, +while her babe lay in the arms of a nurse, who was thus prevented +from rendering any assistance to those engaged in preparing the +furniture for removal. As for her husband, he was away, in some +professional friend's office, holding a learned discussion upon the +relative merits of Byron and Shelley. +</P> + +<P> +After the removal had been accomplished, and the neat little +dwelling put, as the elder Mrs. Fenwick termed it, into "apple-pie +order" the following conversation took place between her and her +daughter-in-law. +</P> + +<P> +"Adelaide, it will now be necessary for you to let both your nurse +and chambermaid go. Charles cannot possibly afford the expense, as +things now are." +</P> + +<P> +"Let my nurse and chambermaid go!" exclaimed Adelaide, with a look +and tone of profound astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, Adelaide," was the firm reply. "You cannot now afford to +keep three servants." +</P> + +<P> +"But how am I to get along without them? You do not, certainly, +suppose that I can be my own nurse and chambermaid?" +</P> + +<P> +"With your small family," was Mrs. Fenwick's reply, "you can readily +have the assistance of your cook for a portion of the morning in +your chamber and parlors. And as to the nursing part, I should think +that you would desire no higher pleasure than having all the care of +dear little Anna. I was always my own nurse, and never had +assistance beyond that of a little girl." +</P> + +<P> +"It's no use to speak in that way, mother; I cannot do without a +nurse," said Adelaide, bursting into tears. "I couldn't even dress +the baby." +</P> + +<P> +"The sooner you learn, child, the better," was the persevering reply +of Mrs. Fenwick. +</P> + +<P> +But Adelaide had no idea of dispensing with either nurse or +chambermaid, both of whom were retained in spite of the +remonstrances and entreaties of the mother-in-law. +</P> + +<P> +Driven to the absolute necessity of doing so, Charles Fenwick opened +an office, and advertised for business. Those who have attempted to +make their way, at first, in a large city, at the bar, can well +understand the disappointment and chagrin of Fenwick on finding that +he did not rise at once to distinction, as he had fondly imagined he +would, when he turned his attention, with strong reasons for +desiring success, to the practice of his profession. A few petty +cases, the trifling fees of which he rejected as of no +consideration, were all that he obtained during the first three +months. At the end of this time he found himself in debt to the +baker, butcher, milkman, tailor, dry-goods merchants, and to the +three servants still pertinaciously retained by his wife.—And, as a +climax to the whole, his father's business was brought to a +termination by bankruptcy, and the old man, in the decline of life, +with still a large family dependent upon him for support, thrown +upon the world, to struggle, almost powerless, for a subsistence. +Fortunately, the Presidency of an Insurance Company was tendered +him, with a salary of fifteen hundred dollars per annum. On this he +could barely support those dependent upon him, leaving Charles the +whole task of maintaining himself, his wife, and their child. +</P> + +<P> +To be dunned for money was more than the young man could endure with +any kind of patience. But creditor tradesmen had no nice scruples in +regard to these matters, and duns came, consequently, thick and +fast, until poor Charles was irritated beyond measure. Cold, and +sometimes impatient, and half insulting answers to applications for +money, were not to be endured by the eager applicants for what was +justly their own. Warrants soon followed, as a matter of course, +which had to be answered by a personal appearance before city +magistrates, thus causing the infliction of a deeper mortification +than had yet assailed him. Added to these came the importunities of +his landlord, which was met by a response which was deemed +insulting, and then came a distraint for rent. The due bill of the +father, saved the son this utter prostration and disgrace. +</P> + +<P> +The effect of all this, was to drive far away from their dwelling +the sweet angel of peace and contentment. Fretted and troubled +deeply in regard to his present condition and future prospects, +Charles had no smiling words for his wife. This, of course, pained +her deeply. But she readily found relief from present reality in the +world of pure romance. The more powerful fictions of the day, +especially the highly wrought idealities of Bulwer, and those of his +class, introduced her into a world above that in which she +dwelt,—and there she lingered the greatest portion of her time, +unconscious of the calls of duty, or the claims of affection. +</P> + +<P> +A single year sufficed to break them up entirely. Expenses far +beyond their income, which rose to about three hundred dollars +during the first year of Charles' practice at the bar, brought +warrants and executions, which the father had no power to stay. To +satisfy these, furniture and library had to be sold, and Charles and +his wife, child and nurse, which latter Adelaide would retain, were +thrown upon old Mr. Fenwick, for support. +</P> + +<P> +For four years did they remain a burden upon the father, during +which time, unstimulated to exertion by pressing necessities, +Charles made but little progress as a lawyer. Petty cases he +despised, and generally refused to undertake, and those of more +importance were not trusted to one who had yet to prove himself +worthy of a high degree of legal confidence. At the end of that time +both his father and mother were suddenly removed to the world of +spirits, and he was again thrown entirely upon his own resources. +</P> + +<P> +With no one now to check them in any thing Charles and his wife, +after calculating the results of the next year's legal efforts, felt +fully justified in renting a handsome house, and furnishing it on +credit. The proceeds of the year's practice rose but little above +four hundred dollars, and at its conclusion they found themselves +involved in a new debt of three thousand dollars. Then came another +breaking up, with all of its harrowing consequences—consequences +which to persons of their habits and mode of thinking, are so deeply +mortifying,—followed by their shrinking away, with a meagre remnant +of their furniture, into a couple of rooms, in an obscure part of +the town. +</P> + +<P> +"Adelaide," said the husband, one morning, as he roused himself from +a painful reverie. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what do you want?" she asked abstractedly, lifting her eyes +with reluctant air from the pages of a novel. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to talk to you for a little while; so shut your book, if you +please." +</P> + +<P> +"Won't some other time do as well? I have just got into the middle +of a most interesting scene." +</P> + +<P> +"No—I wish to talk with you now." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, say on," the wife rejoined, closing the book in her hand, +with her thumb resting upon the page that still retained her +thoughts, and assuming an attitude of reluctant attention. +</P> + +<P> +"There is a school vacant at N——, some twenty miles from the city. +The salary is eight hundred dollars a year, with a house and garden +included. I can get the situation, if I will accept of it." +</P> + +<P> +"And sink to the condition of a miserable country pedagogue?" +</P> + +<P> +"And support my family comfortably and honestly," Fenwick replied in +a tone of bitterness. +</P> + +<P> +"Precious little comfort will your family experience immured in an +obscure country village, without a single congenial associate. What +in the name of wonder has put that into your head?" +</P> + +<P> +"Adelaide! I cannot succeed at the bar—at least, not for years. Of +that I am fully satisfied. It is absolutely necessary, therefore, +that I should turn my attention to something that will supply the +pressing demands of my family." +</P> + +<P> +"But surely you can get into something better than the office of +schoolmaster, to the sons of clodpoles." +</P> + +<P> +"Name something." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure I cannot tell. That is a matter for you to think about," +and so saying, Mrs. Fenwick re-opened her book, and commenced poring +again over the pages of the delightful work she held in her hand. +</P> + +<P> +Irritated, and half disgusted at this, a severe reproof trembled on +his tongue, but he suppressed it. In a few minutes after he arose, +and left the apartment without his wife seeming to notice the +movement. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning, Mr. Fenwick!" said a well known individual, coming +into the lawyer's office a few minutes after he had himself entered. +</P> + +<P> +"That trial comes on this afternoon at four o'clock." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, John, I can't help it. The debt is a just one, but I have no +means of meeting it now." +</P> + +<P> +"Try, and do so if you can, Mr. Fenwick, for the plaintiff is a good +deal irritated about the matter, and will push the thing to +extremities." +</P> + +<P> +"I should be sorry for that. But if so, let him use his own +pleasure. Take nothing from nothing, and nothing remains." +</P> + +<P> +"You had better come then with security, Mr. Fenwick, for my orders +are, to have an execution issued against your person, as soon as the +case is decided." +</P> + +<P> +"You are not in earnest, John?" suddenly ejaculated the lawyer, +rising to his feet, and looking at the humble minister of the law +with a pale cheek and quivering lip. "Surely Mr. —— is not going to +push matters to so uncalled-for an extremity!" +</P> + +<P> +"Such, he positively declares, is his fixed determination. So hold +yourself prepared, sir, to meet even this unpleasant event." +</P> + +<P> +The debt for which the warrant had been issued against Mr. Fenwick, +amounted to ninety dollars. +</P> + +<P> +The whole of the remaining part of that day was spent in the effort +to obtain security in the case. But in vain. His friends knew too +well his inability to protect them from certain loss, should they +step between him and the law. Talents, education, brilliant +addresses, fine poetry "and all that," turned to no good and useful +ends, he found availed him nothing now. Even many of those with whom +he had been in intimate literary association, shrunk away from the +penniless individual, and those who did not actually shun him had +lost much of their former cordiality. +</P> + +<P> +The idea of being sent to jail for debt, was to him a terrible one. +And he turned from it with a sinking at the heart. He said nothing +to Adelaide on returning home in the evening, for the high communion +of spirit, in which they had promised themselves such deep and +exquisite delight, had long since given place to coldness, and a +state of non-sympathy. He found her deeply buried, as usual, in some +volume of romance, while every thing around her was in disorder, and +full of unmitigated realities. They were living alone in two small +rooms, and the duty of keeping them in order and providing their +frugal meals devolved as a heavy task upon Adelaide—so heavy, that +she found it utterly impossible to do it justice. +</P> + +<P> +The fire—that essential preliminary to household operations—had +not even been made, when Fenwick reached home, and the dinner table +remained still on the floor, with its unwashed dishes strewn over +it, in admirable confusion. +</P> + +<P> +With a sigh, Adelaide resigned her book, soon after her husband came +in, and commenced preparations for the evening meal. This was soon +ready, and despatched in silence, except so far as the aimless +prattle of their little girl interrupted it. Tea over, Mrs. Fenwick +put Anna to bed, much against her will, and then drew up to the +table again with her book. +</P> + +<P> +Cheerless and companionless did her husband feel as he let his eye +fall upon her, buried in selfish enjoyment, while his own heart was +wrung with the bitterest recollections and the most heart-sickening +anticipations. +</P> + +<P> +Thoughts of the gaming table passed through his mind, and with the +thought he placed his hand involuntarily upon his pocket. It was +empty. Sometimes his mind would rise into a state of vigorous +activity, with the internal consciousness of a power to do any +thing. But, alas—it was strength without skill—intellectual power +without the knowledge to direct it aright. +</P> + +<P> +Late on the next morning he arose from a pillow that had been +blessed with but little sleep, and that unrefreshing. It was past +eleven o'clock before Adelaide had breakfast on the table. This +over, she, without even dressing Anna or arranging her own person +sat down to her novel, while he gave himself to the most gloomy and +desponding reflections. He feared to go out lest the first man he +should meet, should prove an officer with an execution upon his +person. +</P> + +<P> +About one o'clock, sick and weary of such a comfortless home, he +went out, glad of any change. Ten steps from his own door, he was +met by a constable who conveyed him to prison. +</P> + +<P> +Several hours passed before his crushed feelings were aroused +sufficiently to cause him even to think of any means of extrication. +When his mind did act, it was with clearness, vigor, and decision. +The walls of a jail had something too nearly like reality about +them, to leave much of the false sentiment which had hitherto marred +his prospects in life. There was, too, something deeply humiliating +in his condition of an imprisoned debtor. +</P> + +<P> +"What shall I do?" he asked himself, towards the close of the day, +with a strong resolution to discover the best course of action, and +to pursue that course, unswayed by any extraneous influences. The +thought of his wife came across his mind. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I send her word where I am?"—A pause of some moments +succeeded this question. +</P> + +<P> +"No," he at length said, half aloud, while an expression of pain +flitted over his countenance. "It is of little consequence to her +where I am or what I suffer. She is, I believe, perfectly +heartless." +</P> + +<P> +But Fenwick was mistaken in this. She needed, as well as himself, +some powerful shock to awaken her to true consciousness. That shock +proved to be the knowledge of her husband's imprisonment for debt, +which she learned early on the next morning, after the passage of an +anxious and sleepless night, full of strange forebodings of +approaching evil. She repaired, instantly, to the prison, her heart +melted down into true feeling. The interview between herself and +husband was full of tenderness, bringing out from each heart the +mutual affections which had been sleeping there, alas! too long. +</P> + +<P> +But one right course presented itself to the mind of either of them, +and that was naturally approved by both, as the only proper one. It +was for Fenwick to come out of prison under the act of insolvency, +and thus free himself from the trammels of past obligations, which +could not possibly be met. +</P> + +<P> +This was soon accomplished, the requisite security for his personal +appearance to interrogatories being readily obtained. +</P> + +<P> +"And now, Adelaide, what is to be done?" he asked of his wife, as he +sat holding her hand in his, during the first hour of his release +from imprisonment. His own mind had already decided—still he was +anxious for her suggestion, if she had any to make. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you still obtain that school you spoke of?" she asked with much +interest in her tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. The offer is still open." +</P> + +<P> +"Then take it, Charles, by all means. One such lesson as we have +had, is enough for a life time. Satisfied am I, now, that we have +not sought for happiness in the right paths." +</P> + +<P> +The school was accordingly taken, and with humbled feelings, modest +expectations, and a mutual resolution to be satisfied with little, +did Charles Fenwick and his wife re-commence the world at the bottom +of the ladder. That he was sincere in his new formed resolutions, is +evident from the fact, that in a few years he became the principal +of a popular literary institution, for which office he was fully +qualified. She, too, learned, by degrees, to act well her part in +all her relations, social and domestic—and now finds far more +pleasure in the realities, than she ever did in the romance of life. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="blame"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BOTH TO BLAME. +</H3> + +<P> +"OF course, both are to blame." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. You may always set that down as certain when you see two +persons who have formerly been on good terms fall out with each +other. For my part, I never take sides in these matters. I listen to +what both have to say, and make due allowance for the wish of either +party to make his or her own story appear most favorable." +</P> + +<P> +Thus we heard two persons settling a matter of difference between a +couple of their friends, and it struck us at the time as not being +exactly the true way in all cases. In disputes and differences, +there are no doubt times when both are <I>equally</I> to blame; most +generally, however, one party is <I>more</I> to blame than the other. And +it not unfrequently happens that one party to a difference is not at +all to blame, but merely stands on a just and honorable defensive. +The following story, which may or may not be from real life, will +illustrate the latter position. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you hear about Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Tarleton?" said one friend +to another. +</P> + +<P> +"No; what is the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"They are up in arms against each other." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed; it's the first I've heard of it. What is the cause?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can hardly tell; but I know that they don't speak. Mrs. Tarleton +complains bitterly against Mrs. Bates; and Mrs. Bates, they say, is +just as bitter against her. For my part, I've come to the conclusion +that both are to blame." +</P> + +<P> +"There is no doubt of that. I never knew a case of this kind where +both were not to blame." +</P> + +<P> +"Nor I." +</P> + +<P> +"But don't you know the ground of the difference?" +</P> + +<P> +"They say it is about a head-dress." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be bound dress has something to do with it," grumbled out Mr. +Brierly, the husband of one of the ladies, who sat reading a +newspaper while they were talking. +</P> + +<P> +"My husband is disposed to be a little severe on the ladies at +times, but you mustn't mind him. <I>I</I> never do," remarked Mrs. +Brierly, half sarcastically, although she looked at her husband with +a smile as she spoke. "He thinks we care for nothing but dress. I +tell him it is very well for him and the rest of the world that we +have some little regard at least to such matters. I am sure if I +didn't think a good deal about dress, he and the children would soon +look like scarecrows." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Brierly responded to this by a "Humph!" and resumed the perusal +of his newspaper. +</P> + +<P> +"It is said," resumed Mrs. Brierly, who had been asked to state the +cause of the unhappy difference existing between the two ladies, +"that Mrs. Bates received from her sister in New York a new and very +beautiful head-dress, which had been obtained through a friend in +Paris. Mrs. Tarleton wanted it very badly, and begged Mrs. Bates for +the pattern; but she refused to let her have it, because a grand +party was to be given by the Listons in a few weeks, and she wanted +to show it off there herself. Mrs. Tarleton, however, was not going +to take 'no' for an answer; she had set her heart upon the +head-dress and must have it. You know what a persevering woman she +is when she takes anything into her head. Well, she called in almost +every day to see Mrs. Bates, and every time she would have something +to say about the head-dress, and ask to see it. In this way she got +the pattern of it so perfectly in her mind that she was able to +direct a milliner how to make her one precisely like it. All unknown +to Mrs. Bates, Mrs. Tarleton came to the party wearing this new +style of head-dress, which made her so angry when she discovered it, +that she insulted Mrs. Tarleton openly, and then retired from the +company." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it possible!" +</P> + +<P> +"That, I believe, is about the truth of the whole matter. I have +sifted it pretty closely." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I declare! I was at the party, but I saw nothing of this. I +remember Mrs. Tarleton's head-dress, however, very well. It +certainly was very beautiful, and has become quite fashionable +since." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and is called by some the Tarleton head-dress, from the first +wearer of it." +</P> + +<P> +"This no doubt galls Mrs. Bates severely. They say she is a vain +woman." +</P> + +<P> +"It is more than probable that this circumstance has widened the +breach." +</P> + +<P> +"I must say," remarked the other lady, "that Mrs. Tarleton did not +act well." +</P> + +<P> +"No, she certainly did not. At the same time, I think Mrs. Bates was +served perfectly right for her selfish vanity. It wouldn't have hurt +her at all if there had been two or three head-dresses there of +exactly the pattern of hers. But extreme vanity always gets +mortified, and in this case I think justly so." +</P> + +<P> +"Besides, it was very unladylike to insult Mrs. Tarleton in public." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, or anywhere else. She should have taken no notice of it +whatever. A true lady, under circumstances of this kind, seems +perfectly unaware of what has occurred. She shuns, with the utmost +carefulness, any appearance of an affront at so trivial a matter, +even if she feels it." +</P> + +<P> +Such was the opinion entertained by the ladies in regard to the +misunderstanding, as some others called it, that existed between +Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Tarleton. Both were considered to blame, and +nearly equally so; but whether the parties really misunderstood +their own or each other's true position will be seen when the truth +appears. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Bates did receive, as has been stated, a beautiful head-dress +from a sister in New York, who had obtained it from a friend in +Paris. The style was quite attractive, though neither unbecoming nor +showy. Mrs. Bates had her own share of vanity, and wished to appear +at a large party soon to take place, in this head-dress, where she +knew it must attract attention. Although a little vain, a fault that +we can easily excuse in a handsome woman, Mrs. Bates had a high +sense of justice and right, and possessed all a lady's true delicacy +of feeling. +</P> + +<P> +The head-dress, after being admired, was laid aside for the occasion +referred to. A few days afterwards, Mrs. Tarleton, an acquaintance, +dropped in. +</P> + +<P> +"I have something beautiful to show you," said Mrs. Bates, after she +had chatted awhile with her visitor. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed! What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"The sweetest head-dress you ever saw. My sister sent it to me from +New York, and she had it direct from a friend in Paris, where it was +all the fashion. Mine I believe to be the only one yet received in +the city, and I mean to wear it at Mrs. Liston's party. +</P> + +<P> +"Do let me see it," said Mrs. Tarleton, all alive with expectation. +She had an extravagant love of dress, and was an exceedingly vain +woman. +</P> + +<P> +The head-dress was produced. Mrs. Tarleton lifted her hands and +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"The loveliest thing I ever saw! Let me try it on," she said, laying +off her bonnet and taking the head-dress from the hands of Mrs. +Bates. "Oh, it is sweet! I never looked so well in anything in my +life," she continued, viewing herself in the glass. "I wish I could +beg it from you; but that I havn't the heart to do." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Bates smiled and shook her head, but made no reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, you put it on, and let me see how you look in it," went on +Mrs. Tarleton, removing the cap from her own head and placing it +upon that of her friend. "Beautiful! How well it becomes you! you +must let me have the pattern. We can wear them together at the +party. Two will attract more attention than one." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry to deny you," replied Mrs. Bates, "but I think I shall +have to be alone in my glory this time." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed, you must let me have the pattern, Mrs. Bates. I never saw +anything in my life that pleased me so much, nor anything in which I +looked so well. I have been all over town for a head-dress without +finding anything I would wear. If you don't let me have one like +yours, I do not know what I will do. Come now, say yes, that is a +dear." +</P> + +<P> +But Mrs. Bates said no as gently as she could. It was asking of her +too much. She had set her heart upon appearing in that head-dress as +something new and beautiful, and could not consent to share the +distinction, especially with Mrs. Tarleton, for whom, although a +friend, she entertained not the highest esteem, and for the reason +that Mrs. Tarleton had rather a vulgar mind, and lacked a lady's +true perceptions of propriety. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I must say you are a selfish woman," returned Mrs. Tarleton, +good-humoredly, and yet meaning what she said. "It wouldn't do you a +bit of harm to let me have the pattern, and would gratify me more +than I can tell." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you what I will do," said Mrs. Bates, to this, with a +reluctant effort that was readily perceived by her visitor, "I will +give you the head-dress and let you wear it, as long as you seem to +have set your heart so upon it." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh no, no; you know I wouldn't do that. But it seems strange that +you are not willing for us to wear the same head-dress." +</P> + +<P> +The indelicate pertinacity of her visitor annoyed Mrs. Bates very +much, and she replied to this rather more seriously than she had +before spoken. +</P> + +<P> +"The fact is, Mrs. Tarleton," she said, "this head-dress is one that +cannot fail to attract attention. I have several very intimate +friends, between whom and myself relations of even a closer kind +exist than have yet existed between you and me. If I give you the +pattern of this cap and the privilege of wearing it with me for the +first time it is seen in this city, these friends will have just +cause to think hard of me for passing them by. This is a reason that +would inevitably prevent me from meeting your wishes, even if I were +indifferent about appearing in it myself alone." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose I must give it up, then," said Mrs. Tarleton, in a +slightly disappointed tone. +</P> + +<P> +"As I said before," returned Mrs. Bates, "I will defer the matter +entirely to you. You shall have the head-dress and I will choose +some other one." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh no; I couldn't think of such a thing," returned Mrs. Tarleton. +"That is more than I ought to ask or you to give." +</P> + +<P> +"It is the best I can do," Mrs. Bates said, with a quiet smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Sister," said Mrs. Tarleton, on returning home, "you can't imagine +what a sweet head-dress Mrs. Bates has just received from Paris +through her sister in New York. It is the most unique and beautiful +thing I ever saw. I tried hard for the pattern, but the selfish +creature wouldn't let me have it. She is keeping it for the Liston's +party, where it will be the admiration of every one." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it like?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I can't begin to describe it. It is altogether novel. I wish +now I had asked her to let me bring it home to show it to you." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you had. You must go there again and get it for me." +</P> + +<P> +"I believe I will call in again to-morrow.—Perhaps she will have +thought better of it by that time, and changed her mind. At any +rate, if not, I will ask her to let me bring it home and show it to +you." +</P> + +<P> +This was done. Mrs. Bates did not object to letting Mrs. Tarleton +take the head-dress and show it to her sister, for she had the +fullest confidence that she would not do anything with it that she +knew was against her wishes, which had been clearly expressed. +</P> + +<P> +The sister of Mrs. Tarleton was in raptures with the head-dress. +</P> + +<P> +"It is right down mean and selfish in Mrs. Bates not to let you have +the pattern," she said. "What a vain woman she must be. I always +thought better of her." +</P> + +<P> +"So did I. But this shows what she is." +</P> + +<P> +"If I were you," remarked the sister, "I would have it in spite of +her. It isn't <I>her</I> pattern, that she need pretend hold it so +exclusively. It is a Paris fashion, and any body else may get it +just as well as she. She has no property in it." +</P> + +<P> +"No, of course not." +</P> + +<P> +"Then while you have the chance, take it to Madame Pinto and get her +to make you one exactly like it." +</P> + +<P> +"I have a great mind to do it; it would serve her perfectly right." +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't hesitate a moment," urged the sister. "At the last +party, Mrs. Bates managed to have on something new that attracted +every one and threw others into the shade, I wouldn't let her have +another such triumph." +</P> + +<P> +Thus urged by her sister, Mrs. Tarleton yielded to the evil counsel, +which was seconded by her own heart. The head-dress was taken to +Madame Pinto, who, after a careful examination of it, said that she +would make one exactly similar for Mrs. Tarleton. After charging the +milliner over and over again to keep the matter a profound secret, +Mrs. Tarleton went away and returned the head-dress to Mrs. Bates. +It had been in her possession only a couple of hours. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Pinto was a fashionable milliner and dress maker, and was +patronized by the most fashionable people in the city, Mrs. Bates +among the rest. The latter had called in the aid of this woman in +the preparation of various little matters of dress to be worn at the +party. Three or four days after Mrs. Tarleton's visit to Mrs. Pinto +with the head-dress, Mrs. Bates happened to step in at the +milliner's, who, during their consultation, about little matters of +dress, drew the lady aside, saying—"I've got something that I know +I can venture to show you.—It's for the party, and the loveliest +thing you ever saw." +</P> + +<P> +As she said this she took from a box a facsimile of Mrs. Bates' own +beautiful head-dress, and held it up with looks of admiration. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it sweet?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"It is the most beautiful head-dress I ever saw," replied Mrs. +Bates, concealing her surprise. "Who is it for?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a secret, but I can tell <I>you</I>. It is for Mrs. Tarleton." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! Where did she get the pattern?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know; she brought it here, but said she couldn't leave it +for the world. I had to study it all out, and then make it from my +recollection of the pattern." +</P> + +<P> +"The pattern did not belong to her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no. Somebody had it who was going to show it off at the party, +she said; but she meant to surprise her." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you any new patterns for head-dresses not chosen by the ladies +who have made selections of you for Mrs. Liston's party?" asked Mrs. +Bates, not seeming to notice the reply of Mrs. Pinto. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, ma'am, a good many," and half-a-dozen really handsome +head-dresses were shown—none, however, that pleased her half so +well as the one she was about throwing aside. She suited herself +from the assortment shown her, and directed it to be sent home. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Bates felt justly outraged at the conduct of Mrs. Tarleton, but +she did not speak of what had taken place, except to one or two very +intimate friends and to her husband. The evening of the party at +length arrived. Mrs. Tarleton was there a little earlier than Mrs. +Bates, in all the glory of her ungenerous triumph. The beautiful +head-dress she wore attracted every eye, and in the admiration won +by the display of her taste, she lost all the shame she had felt in +anticipation of meeting Mrs. Bates, to whom her meanness and +dishonesty would be at once apparent. +</P> + +<P> +At length she saw this lady enter the parlors by the side of her +husband, and noticed with surprise that her head-dress was entirely +different from the one she wore. The truth flashed across her mind. +Mrs. Pinto had betrayed her secret, and Mrs. Bates, justly outraged +by what had occurred, had thrown aside her beautiful cap and +selected another. +</P> + +<P> +Now Mrs. Bates was a woman whom Mrs. Tarleton would be sorry to +offend seriously, because her position in certain circles was +undoubted, while her own was a little questionable. The fact that +Mrs. Bates had declined wearing so beautiful a head-dress because +she had obtained one of the same pattern by unfair means, made her +fear that serious offence had been given, and dashed her spirits at +once. She was not long left in doubt. Before ten minutes had elapsed +she was thrown into immediate contact with Mrs. Bates, from whom she +received a polite but cold bow. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Tarleton was both hurt and offended at this, and immediately +after the party, commenced talking about it and mis-stating the +whole transaction, so as not to appear so much to blame as she +really was. Mrs. Bates, on the contrary, said little on the subject, +except to a few very intimate friends, and to those who made free to +ask her about it, to whom she said, after giving fairly the cause of +complaint against Mrs. Tarleton—"I spoke to her coldly because I +wished our more intimate acquaintance to cease. Her conduct was +unworthy of a lady, and therefore I cannot and will not consider her +among my friends. No apologies, if she would even make them, could +change the wrong spirit from which she acted, or make her any more +worthy of my confidence, esteem or love." +</P> + +<P> +"But you will surely forgive her?" said one. +</P> + +<P> +"The wrong done to me I am ready enough to forgive, for it is but a +trifling matter; but the violation of confidence and departure from +a truly honest principle, of which she has been guilty, I cannot +forgive, for they are not sins against me, but against Heaven's +first and best laws." +</P> + +<P> +But that did not satisfy some. Persons calling themselves mutual +friends strove hard to reconcile what they were pleased to call a +misunderstanding in which "both were to blame." But it availed not. +To their interference, Mrs. Bates usually replied—"If it will be +any satisfaction to Mrs. Tarleton to be recognized by me and treated +kindly and politely in company, I will most cheerfully yield her all +that; but I cannot feel towards her as heretofore, because I have +been deceived in her, and find her to be governed by principles that +I cannot approve. We can never again be on terms of intimacy." +</P> + +<P> +But it was impossible to make some understand the difference between +acting from principle and wounded pride. The version given by Mrs. +Tarleton was variously modified as it passed from mouth to mouth, +until it made Mrs. Bates almost as much to blame as herself, and +finally, as the coldness continued until all intercourse at last +ceased, it was pretty generally conceded, except by a very few, that +"both were about equally to blame." +</P> + +<P> +The reader can now make up his own mind on the subject from what has +been related. For our part, we do not think Mrs. Bates at all to +blame in at once withdrawing herself from intimate association with +such a woman as Mrs. Tarleton showed herself to be, and we consider +that a false charity which would seek to interfere with or set aside +the honest indignation that should always be felt in similar cases +of open betrayal of confidence and violation of honest and honorable +principles. +</P> + +<P> +We have chosen a very simple and commonplace incident upon which to +"hang a moral."—But it is in the ordinary pursuits of business and +pleasure where the true character is most prone to exhibit itself, +and we must go there if we would read the book of human life aright. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="business"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IT'S NONE OF MY BUSINESS. +</H3> + +<P> +"WAS N'T that young Sanford?" asked Mrs. Larkin of her husband, as +the two stood at a window of their dwelling one Sunday afternoon, +noticing the passers by. The individual she alluded to was a young +man who had ridden gaily along on a spirited horse. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," was the reply. +</P> + +<P> +"He rides past here almost every Sunday afternoon, and often in +company with Harriet Meadows. He is quite a dashing young fellow." +</P> + +<P> +"He is dashing far beyond his ostensible means. I wonder at Millard +for keeping him in his store. I would soon cast adrift any one of my +clerks who kept a fast horse, and sported about with the gay +extravagance that Sanford does. His salary does not, I am sure, meet +half his expenses. I have heard some of my young men speak of his +habits. They say money with him is no consideration. He spends it as +freely as water." +</P> + +<P> +"Strange that his employer does not see this!" +</P> + +<P> +"It is. But Millard is too unsuspicious, and too ignorant of what is +going on out of the narrow business circle. He is like a horse in a +mill. He sees nothing outside of a certain limit. He gets up in the +morning, dresses himself, goes to his store, and then devotes +himself to business until dinner time. Then he goes home and dines. +After this he comes back to his store and stays until night. His +evenings are either spent in reading or dozing at home, or with a +neighbor at checkers. On Sunday morning he goes to church, in the +afternoon he sleeps to kill time, and in the evening retires at +eight, unless a friend steps in, to sleep away the tedious hours. Of +the habits of his clerks, when out of his store, he knows as little +as the man in the moon." +</P> + +<P> +"But some one ought to give him a hint." +</P> + +<P> +"It would be a charity." +</P> + +<P> +"Why do n't you do it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Me! Oh, it's none of my business. Let Millard look after his own +affairs. I 'm not going to get myself into trouble by meddling with +things that do n't concern me. It is his place to see into the +habits of his clerks. If he neglects to do so, he deserves to be +cheated by them." +</P> + +<P> +"I do n't know. It seems to me that it would be no more than right +to give him a hint, and put him on his guard." +</P> + +<P> +"It would be a good turn, no doubt. But I'm not going to do it. It's +no affair of mine." +</P> + +<P> +"I do n't think he is fit company for Harriet Meadows," said Mrs. +Larkin, after a pause. +</P> + +<P> +"Nor I," returned her husband. "I should be very sorry to see our +Jane riding with him, or indeed, associating with him in any way. +Surely Harriet's father and mother cannot know that their daughter +rides out with him almost every Sunday afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not. They are religious people and would think it a sin +for her to do so. I am surprised that Harriet should act in such +direct violation of what she knows to be their real sentiments." +</P> + +<P> +"Some one ought to give them a hint upon the subject." +</P> + +<P> +"I think so. If it were my child I would take it as a great favor +indeed." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, so would I. Suppose, Ellen, you drop a word in Mrs. Meadows' +ear." +</P> + +<P> +"Me!" with a look and tone of surprise. "Oh no, I never interfere in +other people's business. Every one ought to look after his or her +own concerns. I hate your meddlesome folks. I 'll take good care +that my own child do n't form such associations. Let every body else +do the same. The fact is, parents are too careless about where their +children go, and what kind of company they keep." +</P> + +<P> +"That's very true. Still I think no harm could come of your just +giving Mrs. Meadows a hint." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no indeed! It's none of my business." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, just as you like," returned Mr. Larkin, indifferently. "Let +every one see that his own stable door is locked before the horse is +stolen." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Millard, who was in the same line of business with Larkin, was +just the plodding, unobserving, unsuspicious person that the latter +had described him. Sanford was an intelligent clerk and an active +salesman. These were valuable qualities, for which he was +appreciated by his employer. As to what he did or where he went +after business hours, Millard never thought. He, doubtless, on the +supposition of the merchant, went into good company, and acted with +the same prudence that had governed himself under similar +circumstances. But in this he was mistaken. The young man's habits +were bad, and his associates often of a vicious character. Bad +habits and bad associates always involve the spending of money +freely. This consequence naturally occurred in the case of Sanford. +To supply his wants his salary proved insufficient. These wants were +like the horse-leech, and cried continually—"give, give." They +could not be put off. The first recourse was that of borrowing, in +anticipation of his quarterly receipt of salary, after his last +payment was exhausted. It was not long before, under this system, +his entire quarterly receipt had to be paid away to balance his +borrowed money account, thus leaving him nothing to meet his +increasing wants for the next three months. By borrowing again from +some friends immediately, and curtailing his expenses down to the +range of his income, he was able to get along for two or three +quarters. But, of course, he was always behind hand just the amount +of three months' salary. At length, as new wants pressed upon him, +he was tempted to exceed in his borrowed money account the sum +received as his quarterly dues. This made it impossible for him to +pay off, when he received his instalments of salary, the whole +amount of borrowed money, and caused him to cast about for some new +resource. In balancing the cash account one day,—he had charge of +this,—he found that there was an error of one hundred dollars in +favor of cash—that is, there were on hand one hundred dollars more +than was called for by the account. He went over the account again +and again, but could not discover the error. For more than an hour +he examined the various entries and additions, but with no better +success. At last, however, a little to his disappointment, for he +had already began to think of quietly appropriating the surplus, he +found the error to consist in the carriage of tens—four instead of +five having been carried to the third or column of hundreds on one +of the pages of the cash book, thus making the amount called for in +the book one hundred dollars less than the real sum on hand. +</P> + +<P> +For some time after this discovery, Sanford sat at his desk in a +state of abstraction and irresolution. He was vexed that the error +had been found out, for he had already nearly made up his mind to +keep the overplus and say nothing about it. He did not attempt to +change the erroneous figure.—Why should it not remain so?—he at +length asked himself. If it had cost him so much time and labor to +find it out, it was not probable that any one else would detect it. +Indeed, no one but himself and Mr. Millard had any thing to do with +the general cash account of the establishment, and he knew very well +that the latter did not examine it with a very close scrutiny. +Finally, pressing demands for money determined him to put the +surplus into his pocket, at least for the present. He did so, and in +that act let into his mind a flood of evil counsellors, whose +arguments, enforced by his own cupidities, could at any time +afterwards have sufficient control to guide him almost at will. With +this sum of one hundred dollars, he paid off a portion of what he +owed, and retained the rest to meet the demands that would be made +upon him before the arrival of the next quarter day. It was a rule +with Millard to pay off his clerks only in quarterly instalments. No +other payments were allowed them. +</P> + +<P> +It was not long before a deliberate false entry was made, by which +another hundred dollars passed into Sanford's pockets. With this +increase of income came a freer expenditure. Hitherto he had been in +the habit of riding out on Sundays on hired horses; but now he was +inspired with a wish to own a horse himself. A beautiful animal just +at this time came under his eye. It was offered at one hundred and +fifty dollars. The owner, knowing Sanford's fondness for a gay, +fast-going horse, urged him to buy. +</P> + +<P> +The temptation was very strong. He looked at the animal again and +again, rode him out, talked about him, until, finally, the desire to +own him became almost irresistible. He had not twenty dollars, +however, and it would be two months before his salary came due, +which at any rate was all wanted for current expenses. The cash book +was looked at for a week or ten days before he could make up his +mind to pen another false entry. At last, however, he picked up the +courage to do so. The horse was purchased, and for a few days the +thought of possessing so noble an animal was very pleasant. +</P> + +<P> +On the third day after this act of dishonesty, Mr. Millard, who had +been looking over the cash book, discovered the erroneous figures. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Sanford," said he, "you have made a mistake here. This +figure should be nine instead of eight, and this five instead of +four." +</P> + +<P> +The young man's heart gave a quick throb, but he controlled himself +by a strong effort. +</P> + +<P> +"Where?" he asked, quickly, coming at once to Mr. Millard, and +looking over the cash-book. +</P> + +<P> +"Here—just add up these two columns." +</P> + +<P> +Sanford added them up, and then said— +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that's a fact. I'm glad you have found it out. The cash has +been over about two hundred dollars for several days, and I have +tried in vain to find where the error lay. Strange, after adding up +these columns for some twenty times or more, I should have still +been wrong in these figures. Let me strike a balance for you now, so +that you can count the cash, and see that there is just this amount +over." +</P> + +<P> +This dispelled all suspicions from the mind of Millard, if any had +found a place there. +</P> + +<P> +"No," he replied, "I hav n't time now. I have no doubt of it being +right. Make the corrections required." +</P> + +<P> +And as he thus remarked, he turned away from the desk. +</P> + +<P> +Sanford trembled from head to foot the moment his employer left him. +He tried to make the corrections, but his hand shook so that he +could not hold the pen. In a little while he mastered this agitation +so far as to be externally composed. He then changed the erroneous +figures. But this did not make the matter straight. The cash account +now called for two hundred dollars more than the funds on hand would +show. If the money should be counted before he could make other +false entries, he would be discovered and disgraced. And now that +errors had been discovered, it was but natural to suppose that Mr. +Millard would glance less casually at the account than he had been +in the habit of doing. At last, he determined to erase a few pages +back certain figures, and insert others in their places, and carry +down from thence the error by a regular series of erasures and new +entries. This he did so skilfully, that none but the eye of +suspicion could have detected it. It was some weeks before he again +ventured to repeat these acts. When he did so, he permitted the +surplus cash to remain in the drawer for eight or ten days, so that +if a discovery happened to be made, the balance on hand would show +that it was an error. But Mr. Millard thought no more about the +matter, and the dishonest clerk was permitted to prosecute his base +conduct undetected. In this way month after month passed, until the +defalcation rose to over a thousand dollars. Nightly Sanford +attended places of public amusement, usually accompanied by a young +lady, the daughter of some respectable citizen, who knew as little +of the habits and character of the young man as did his employer +himself. Among those with whom he had become intimate was Harriet +Meadows, the daughter of a merchant possessing a high sense of honor +and considerable wealth. Mr. Meadows, so soon as the young man began +to visit at his house, gave him to understand by his manner that he +was not welcome. This was so plainly done that there was no room for +mistake in the matter. Piqued at this, Sanford determined that he +would keep the daughter's company in spite of her crusty old father. +Harriet was gay and thoughtless, and had been flattered by the +attentions of Sanford. She met him a few times after his repulse, at +balls, and hesitated not to dance with him. These meetings afforded +full opportunity for the young man to push himself still farther +into her good opinion, and to prevail upon her at length to meet him +clandestinely, which she frequently did on Sunday afternoons, when, +as has already been seen, she would ride out in his company. This +kind of intimacy soon led to a declaration of love on the part of +Sanford, which was fully responded to by the foolish girl. The +former had much, he thought, to hope for in in a union with Miss +Meadows. Her father was well off, and in a very excellent business. +His fortune would be made if he could rise to the position of his +son-in-law. He did not hope to do this by a fair and open offer for +Harriet's hand. The character of Meadows, which was decided, +precluded all hope of gaining his consent after he had once frowned +upon his approaches. The only road to success was a secret marriage, +and to that he was gradually inclining the mind of the daughter at +the time our story opened. +</P> + +<P> +It is not always that a villain remains such alone. He generally, by +a kind of intuition, perceives who are like him in interiors, and he +associates with these on the principle that birds of a feather flock +together. He was particularly intimate with one of Larkin's clerks, +a young man named Hatfield, who had no higher views of life than +himself, and who was governed by no sounder principles. Hatfield +found it necessary to be more guarded than Sanford, from the fact +that his employer was gifted with much closer observation than was +Millard. He, too, rode a fast trotting horse on Sunday, but he knew +pretty well the round taken by Larkin on that day, and the hours +when he attended church, and was very careful never to meet him. At +some place of public resort, a few miles from the city, he would +join Sanford, and together they would spend the afternoon. +</P> + +<P> +On Jane Larkin, his employer's only daughter, Hatfield had for some +time looked with a favourable eye. But he felt very certain that +neither her father nor mother would favor his addresses. +Occasionally, with her parents' knowledge, he would attend her to +places of public amusement. But both himself and the young lady saw +that even this was not a thing that fully met their approbation. +Hatfield would, on such occasions, ingeniously allude to this fact, +and thus gather from Jane how she regarded their coldness. It was +not agreeable to her, he quickly perceived. This encouraged him to +push matters further. +</P> + +<P> +Soon the two understood each other fully, and soon after the tacit +opposition of the parents to their intimacy was a matter of +conversation between them, whenever they could get an opportunity of +talking together without awakening suspicion. +</P> + +<P> +Harriet Meadows and Jane Larkin were particular friends, and soon +became confidants. They were both quite young, and, we need not say, +weak and thoughtless. Sanford and Hatfield, as the reader has seen, +were also intimate. In a short time after the latter had made up +their minds to secure the hands of these two young ladies, if +possible, there was a mutual confession of the fact. This was +followed by the putting of their heads together for the contrivance +of such plans as would best lead to the effectuation of the end each +had proposed to himself. It is a curious fact, that on the very +Sunday afternoon on which we have seen Mr. and Mrs. Larkin +conversing about the danger and impropriety of Harriet Meadows +keeping company with a man like Sanford, their own daughter was +actually riding out with Hatfield. In this ride they passed the +residence of Mr. Meadows, who, in turn, commented upon the fact with +some severity of censure towards Mr. Larkin and his wife for not +looking more carefully after their only child. +</P> + +<P> +"They certainly cannot know it," finally remarked Mr. Meadows. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I should think not. It would be a real charity for some one +just to mention it to them." +</P> + +<P> +"It certainly would." +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose you speak to Mr. Larkin about it," said Mrs. Meadows. +</P> + +<P> +"Me? Oh no!" was the reply. "It is none of my business. I never +meddle with family affairs. It is their duty to look after their +daughter. If they don't, and she rides about with Tom, Dick and +Harry on Sundays, they have no one to blame but themselves for the +consequences." +</P> + +<P> +Thus their responsibility in the affair was dismissed. It was no +business of theirs. +</P> + +<P> +In the mean time the two clerks were laying their plans for carrying +off the young ladies, and marrying them secretly. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you sounded Jane on this subject?" asked Sanford of his friend +one evening, when the matter had come up for serious discussion. +</P> + +<P> +"I have." +</P> + +<P> +"How does she stand?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think there is no doubt of her. But how is Harriet?" +</P> + +<P> +"All right. That point we settled last night. She is ready to go at +any time that Jane is willing to take a similar step. She would +rather not go all alone." +</P> + +<P> +"If she will only second me in urging the absolute necessity of the +thing upon Jane, there can be no doubt of the result. And she will +do that of course." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes—all her influence can be calculated upon. But how do you +think Larkin will stand affected after all is over?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's hard to tell. At first he will be as mad as a March hare. But +Jane is his only child, and he loves her too well to cast her off. +All will settle down quietly after a few weeks' ebullition and I +shall be as cosily fixed in the family as I could wish. After that, +my fortune is made. Larkin is worth, to my certain knowledge, fifty +or sixty thousand dollars, every cent of which will in the end come +into my hands. And, besides, Larkin's son-in-law will have to be set +up in business. Give me a fair chance, and I'll turn a bright penny +for myself." +</P> + +<P> +"How are you off for funds at this present time?" +</P> + +<P> +"Low, very low. The old fellow don't pay me half a salary. I'm in +debt three or four hundred dollars, and dunned almost to death +whenever I am in the way of duns. All the people I owe know better +than to send their bills to the store, for if they were to do so, +and by thus exposing me cause me to lose my situation, they are well +aware that they might have to whistle for their money." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you make a raise some how? We must both have money to carry +out this matter. In the first place, we must go off a hundred or two +miles and spend a week. After we return we may have to board for +weeks at pretty high charges before a reconciliation can be brought +about. During this time you will be out of a situation, for old +Larkin won't take you back into the store until the matter is made +up. You ought at least to have a couple of hundred dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"And I have n't twenty." +</P> + +<P> +"Bad, very bad. But don't you think you could borrow a couple of +hundred from Larkin, and pay him back after you become his +son-in-law?" +</P> + +<P> +"Borrow from Larkin! Goodness! He'd clear me out in less than no +time, if I were to ask him to loan me even fifty dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"No, but you don't understand me," remarked Sanford after a +thoughtful pause. "Can 't you borrow it without his knowledge, I +mean? No harm meant of course. You intend borrowing his daughter, +you know, for a little while, until he consents to give her to you." +</P> + +<P> +Hatfield looked into the face of his tempter with a bewildered air +for some moments. He did not yet fully comprehend his drift. +</P> + +<P> +"How am I to borrow without his knowing it? Figure me that out if +you please," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Who keeps the cash?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! so far so good. You keep the cash. Very well. Now is n't it +within the bounds of possibility for you to possess yourself of a +couple of hundred dollars in such a way that the deficit need not +appear? If you can, it will be the easiest thing in the world, after +you come back, and get the handling of a little more money in your +right than has heretofore been the case, to return the little loan." +</P> + +<P> +"But suppose it possible for me thus to get possession of two +hundred dollars, and suppose I do not get back safely after our +adventure, and do not have the handling of more money in my own +right—what then?" +</P> + +<P> +"You'll only be supporting his daughter out of his own money—that +is all." +</P> + +<P> +"Humph! Quite a casuist." +</P> + +<P> +"But is n't there reason in it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do n't know. I am not exactly in a state to see reasons clearly +just now." +</P> + +<P> +"You can see the necessity of having a couple of hundred dollars, I +suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes—as clear as mud." +</P> + +<P> +"You must have that sum at least, or to proceed will be the height +of folly." +</P> + +<P> +"I can see that too." +</P> + +<P> +"It is owing to Larkin's mean pride that you are driven to this +extremity. He ought to pay for it." +</P> + +<P> +"But how am I to get hold of two hundred dollars? That's the +question." +</P> + +<P> +"Is there ordinarily much cash on hand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. We deposit some days as high as ten thousand dollars; +particularly at this season, when a good many merchants are in." +</P> + +<P> +"The chance is fair enough. Two hundred won't be missed." +</P> + +<P> +"No, not until the cash is settled, and then it will come to light." +</P> + +<P> +"That does n't follow." +</P> + +<P> +"I think it does." +</P> + +<P> +"You may prevent it." +</P> + +<P> +"How?" +</P> + +<P> +"Miss a couple of tens in your additions on the debit side of the +cash book. Do you understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not clearly." +</P> + +<P> +"You are dull. Change a figure in footing up your cash book, so that +it will balance, notwithstanding a deficit of two hundred dollars. +After you come back, this can be set right again. No one will think +of adding up the back columns to see if there is any fraud." +</P> + +<P> +"After Sanford ceased speaking, his friend cast his eyes to the +floor, and reflected for some time. There was in his mind a powerful +struggle between right and wrong. When the plan was first presented, +he felt an inward shrinking from it. It involved an act of fraud, +that, if found out, would blast his character. But the longer he +reflected, and the more fully he looked in the face of the fact that +without money he could not proceed to the consummation of his +wishes, the more favorable the plan seemed. +</P> + +<P> +"But," he said, lifting his eyes and drawing a long breath, "if it +should be found out?" +</P> + +<P> +"Larkin will not expose his son-in-law for his daughter's sake." +</P> + +<P> +"True—there is something there to hope for. Well, I will think of +it. I must have two hundred dollars from some source." +</P> + +<P> +And he did think of it to evil purpose. He found no very great +difficulty in getting Jane to consent to run away with him, +especially as her particular friend, Harriet Meadows, was to +accompany her on a like mad-cap expedition with Sanford. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing occurred to prevent the acts proposed. By false entries, +Hatfield was enabled to abstract two hundred dollars in a way that +promised a perfect concealment of the fraud, although in doing it he +felt much reluctance and many compunctions of conscience. +</P> + +<P> +About ten days after the conversation between the young men, just +given, Jane Larkin obtained her mother's consent to spend a few days +with a cousin who resided some miles from the city on a road along +which one of the omnibus lines passed. Harriet Meadows did not use +this precaution to elude suspicion. She left her father's house at +the time agreed upon, and joined young Sanford at an appointed +place, where a carriage was waiting, into which Hatfield and Jane +had already entered. The two couples then proceeded to the house of +an alderman, who united them in marriage bonds. From thence they +drove to a railroad depot, took passage for a neighboring city, and +were soon gliding away, a suspicion unawakened in the minds of the +young ladies' friends. +</P> + +<P> +The absence of Harriet on the night following alarmed the fears and +awakened the suspicions of her father and mother. Early on the next +day, Mr. Meadows learned that his daughter had been seen entering +the —— cars in company with young Sanford. Calling upon Millard, he +ascertained that Sanford had not been to the store on the previous +day, and was still absent. To merge suspicion and doubt into +certainty, the alderman who had married the couples was met +accidentally. He testified to the fact of his having united them. +Sick at heart, Mr. Meadows returned home to communicate the sad +intelligence to the mother of Harriet. When he again went out, he +was met by the startling rumor that a defalcation had been +discovered on the part of young Sanford to a large amount. Hurrying +to the store of Mr. Millard, he was shocked to find that the rumor +was but, alas! too true. Already false entries in the cash book had +been discovered to the amount of at least five thousand dollars. An +officer, he also learned, had been despatched to ——, for the +purpose of arresting the dishonest clerk and bringing him back to +justice. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite an affair this," remarked Larkin to an acquaintance whom he +met some time during the day, in a half-serious, half-indifferent +tone. +</P> + +<P> +"About Meadows' daughter and Sanford? Yes, and rather a melancholy +affair. The worst part of it is, that the foolish young man has been +embezzling the money of his employer." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that is very bad. But Millard might have known that Sanford +could not dash about and spend money as he did upon his salary +alone." +</P> + +<P> +"I do n't suppose he knew any thing about his habits. He is an +unsuspicious man, and keeps himself quietly at home when not in his +store." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I did then. I saw exactly how he was going on, and could have +told him; but it wasn't any of my business." +</P> + +<P> +"I do n't care so much for Millard or his clerk as I do for the +foolish girl and her parents. Her happiness is gone and theirs with +it." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, yes—that is the worst part. But they might have known that +something of the kind would take place. They were together a good +deal, and were frequently to be seen riding out on Sunday +afternoons." +</P> + +<P> +"This was not with the knowledge of her parents, I am sure." +</P> + +<P> +"I do n't suppose it was. Still they should have looked more +carefully after their child. I knew it and could have told them how +things were going—but it was n't any of my business. I always keep +myself clear from these matters." +</P> + +<P> +Just at this moment a third person came up. He looked serious. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Larkin," he said, "I have just heard that your daughter and +Hatfield, your clerk, were married at the same time that Sanford +was, and went off with that young man and his bride. Alderman ——, +it is said, united them." +</P> + +<P> +Larkin turned instantly pale. Hatfield had been away since the +morning of the day before, and his daughter was not at home, having +asked the privilege of going to see a cousin who resided a few miles +from the city. A call upon Alderman —— confirmed the afflicting +intelligence. The father returned home to communicate the news to +his wife, on whom it fell with such a shock that she became quite +ill. +</P> + +<P> +"He might have known that something of this kind would have +happened," remarked the person who had communicated the +intelligence, as soon as Larkin had left. "No man who does n't wish +his daughters to marry his clerks, ought to let them go to balls and +concerts together, and ride out when they please on Sunday +afternoons." +</P> + +<P> +"Did Larkin permit this with Jane and Hatfield?" +</P> + +<P> +"They were often thus together whether he permitted it or not." +</P> + +<P> +"He could n't have known it." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps not. I could have given him a hint on the subject, if I had +chosen—but it was none of my business." +</P> + +<P> +On the next day all the parties came home—Sanford compulsorily, in +the hands of an officer; Hatfield voluntarily, and in terrible +alarm. The two brides were of course included. Sanford soon after +left the city, and has not since been heard of. His crime was +"breach of trust!" As for Hatfield, he was received on the principle +that, in such matters, the least said the soonest mended. In the +course of a few months he was able to restore the two hundred +dollars he had abstracted. After this was done he felt easier in +mind. He did not, however, make the foolish creature he had married +happy. Externally, or to the world, they seem united, but internally +they are not conjoined. Too plainly is this apparent to the father +and mother, who have many a heart-ache for their dearly loved child. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="promise"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE MOTHER'S PROMISE. +</H3> + +<P> +A LADY, handsomely dressed, was about leaving her house to make a +few calls, when a little boy ran out from the nursery, and clasping +one of her gloved hands in both of his, looked up into her face with +a glance of winning entreaty, saying, as he did so: +</P> + +<P> +"Mamma! dear mamma! Won't you buy me a picture-book, just like +cousin Edie's?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, love," was the unhesitating reply; and the lady stooped to +kiss the sweet lips of her child. +</P> + +<P> +"Eddy must be a good boy, and mind nurse while mamma is away," she +added. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be so good," replied Eddy, with all the earnestness of a +childish purpose. "You may ask nurse when you come home, if I have +not been the goodest little boy that ever was." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Herbert kissed her darling boy again, and then went forth to +make her morning round of calls. Eddy returned to the nursery, +strong in his purpose, to be a good boy, as he had promised. +</P> + +<P> +"Such a dear little picture-book as mamma is going to bring me +home," he said to nurse, as he leaned his arms against her, and +looked up into her face. "Oh! won't I be so glad. It's to be just +like cousin Edie's. Mamma said so; and cousin Edie's book is so +beautiful. I 've wanted one ever since I was there. Is'nt mamma +good?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Eddy," replied the nurse, "your mamma is very good; and you +should love her so much, and do everything she tells you to do." +</P> + +<P> +"I do love her," said the child. "Oh, I love her more than all the +world; and I'm going to mind every thing she says." +</P> + +<P> +Then the child went to his play, and was happy with his toys. But +his thoughts were on the picture-book, and pleasantly his young +imagination lingered amid its attractive pages. +</P> + +<P> +"Is'nt it 'most time for mother to be home?" he asked, at the end of +half an hour, coming to the side of his nurse, and gazing up into +her face. +</P> + +<P> +"Why no, child," replied the nurse, "not for a long while yet." +</P> + +<P> +Eddy looked disappointed. But that instant the door bell rung. +</P> + +<P> +"There's mamma!" exclaimed the child, clapping his hands; and before +nurse could restrain him, he had bounded from the room, and his +little feet were heard pattering down the stairs. Slowly he came +back, after a little while, and with a look of disappointment on his +sweet young face, entered the nursery, saying, as he did so: +</P> + +<P> +"It was only a man with brooms to sell." +</P> + +<P> +"Your mamma won't be home for a long time yet, Eddy," said his +nurse, "so it is of no use for you to expect her. Go and build block +houses again." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm tired of block houses," replied the little boy, "and now that +mamma has promised me a picture-book like cousin Edie's I can't +think of anything else." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well," said nurse, a little impatiently, "she'll be home in +good time. Try and not think of the book. It won't do any good—it +won't bring her home a minute sooner." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't help thinking of it," persisted the child, in whom the +imaginative faculty was unusually, strong for one of his age. +</P> + +<P> +In a little while, however, something occurred to interest him, and +a full hour elapsed before he again recurred to his mother and the +expected picture book. As best she could, his nurse diverted his +mind, and kept him, in a measure, occupied with what was around him. +At length it was full time for Mrs. Herbert to return. Eddy had +ceased to find interest in anything appertaining to the nursery. He +went down into the parlor, and seating himself at the window, +watched, with childish eagerness, for the form of his mother. +</P> + +<P> +Strange as it may seem to the reader, Mrs. Herbert had scarcely +passed into the street, ere her promise was forgotten. Not that she +was indifferent to the happiness of her child—not that she was a +heartless mother. Far very far from this. Purely and truly did she +love this sweet boy. But, so much were her thoughts interested in +other things, that she did not, at the time, comprehend the +earnestness of his childish wishes; nor think of her promise as a +sacred thing. The request for a picture book seemed to her but the +expression of a sudden thought, that passed from his mind as soon as +uttered. And yet, she had not promised without intending to meet the +wishes of her child, for she was an indulgent mother, and rarely +said "No," to any request that might reasonably be gratified. She +had noticed Cousin Edie's pretty book, and thought that she would, +some time or other, get one like it for Eddy. The child's request +but seconded this thought. There was will, therefore, in her +promise. She meant to do as she had said. +</P> + +<P> +But things of more interest to Mrs. Herbert, than the simple wish of +a child, so fully occupied her mind from the time she left her own +door, that she never again thought of the book, until she saw Eddy's +dear face at the window. It was serious, and slightly impatient, as +if he were wearied with watching and waiting; but the moment his +eyes rested upon her form, his whole countenance brightened, as +though lit up by a sunbeam. Almost as soon as Mrs. Herbert's hand +touched the bell, the street door was thrown open, and the glad +child stood, like a rebuking spirit, before her. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's my book, mamma? Give me my book, mamma! Oh, I'm so glad +you've come!" +</P> + +<P> +Now, the first conviction of wrong, often has an irritating effect +upon the mind, obscuring its perceptions, and leading, sometimes, to +the impulsive commission of greater wrongs. It was so in the present +case. The happy countenance of her child did not bring joy to the +mother's heart; for she knew that with a word, she must dash to the +ground all his buoyant anticipations. And she remembered, too, at +the moment, how poorly he could bear disappointment. +</P> + +<P> +"Eddy, dear," said Mrs. Herbert, taking her little boy by the hand, +and advancing toward the parlor door with him, "Eddy, dear, let me +tell you something." +</P> + +<P> +Her grave tone and look caused a shiver to pass inward toward the +heart of the child. He understood, but too well, that the mother, +whose word he had trusted so implicitly, had been faithless to her +promise. +</P> + +<P> +Poor child! even this advancing shadow of a coming disappointment, +darkened his young face and filled his eyes with tears. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Herbert sat down on the nearest chair, as she entered the +parlor, and drew Eddy to her side. She saw, from his sad face, that +words were not required to make him aware that the promised book was +not in her possession; and she knew, from former experience, that +trouble was before her. Unhappily, she did not feel softened, but +rather irritated, toward the child. +</P> + +<P> +"Eddy," she said firmly, yet with as much tenderness as she could +assume, "Eddy, you know you promised me to be such a good boy." +</P> + +<P> +"And I have been good," eagerly answered the little fellow, lifting +his swimming eyes to her face, "you may ask nurse if I havn't been +good all the time." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure you have," said Mrs. Herbert, touched by the manner of her +child; "and yet, Eddy, I have not brought your book." +</P> + +<P> +The tears, which had been ready to start, now gushed over his face, +and a low cry pained the mother's ears. +</P> + +<P> +"Eddy," said she, seriously, "let me tell you about it. You must +listen to reason." +</P> + +<P> +Reason! poor, disappointed little one! He had no ear for the +comprehension of reasons. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Eddy! I can't have this!" Mrs. Herbert spoke firmly, for +already the child was weeping bitterly. "Crying will do no good. I +promised you the book, and you shall have it. I had no opportunity +to get it this morning. Come now! you must stop at once, or I——" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Herbert did not utter the threat which came to her lips; for +her mind shrunk from the thought of punishing her child, especially +as his fault was a consequence of her own actions. But, as he +continued to cry on, and in a louder voice, she not only began to +feel excessively annoyed, but deemed it her duty to compel a +cessation of what could do no possible good, but rather harm. +</P> + +<P> +"Eddy, you must stop this crying!" Firmness had changed to +sternness. +</P> + +<P> +The words might as well not have been spoken. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you are not going to stop!" The tones were angry now; and, as +Mrs. Herbert uttered them, she caught the arm of her child with a +tight grip. +</P> + +<P> +At this moment, the sound of the latch-key was heard in the street +door. It was dinner time, and Mr. Herbert entered. +</P> + +<P> +"Bless us! what's the trouble here?" the father of Eddy exclaimed, +good-naturedly, as he presented himself in the parlor. +</P> + +<P> +"The trouble is," said Mrs. Herbert, in a fretful voice, "that I +promised to buy him a book, and forgot all about it." +</P> + +<P> +"Oho! Is that all?" Mr. Herbert spoke cheerfully. "This trouble can +soon be healed. Come, dear, and let us see what I can do for you." +</P> + +<P> +And Mr. Herbert drew forth a small, square packet, and began untying +the string, with which it was bound. Eddy ceased crying in an +instant, while a rainbow light shone through his tears. Soon a book +came to view. It was <I>the</I> book. Singularly enough, Mr. Herbert had, +that morning, observed it in a store, and thinking it would please +his child, had bought it for him. +</P> + +<P> +"Will that do?" he said, handing the book to Eddy. +</P> + +<P> +What a gush of gladness came to the child's face. A moment or two he +stood, like one bewildered, and then throwing his arms around his +father's neck and hugging him tightly, he said, in the fullness of +his heart, +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! you are a dear good papa! I do love you so much!" +</P> + +<P> +Ere the arms of Eddy were unclasped from his father's neck, Mrs. +Herbert had left the room. When, on the ringing of the dinner bell, +she joined her husband and child at the table, her countenance wore +a sober aspect, and there were signs of tears about her eyes. What +her thoughts had been, every true mother can better imagine than we +describe. That they were salutary, may be inferred from the fact +that no promise, not even the lightest, was ever afterwards made to +her child, which was not righteously kept to the very letter. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="husbands"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE TWO HUSBANDS. +</H3> + +<P> +"Jane, how <I>can</I> you tolerate that dull, spiritless creature? I +never sat by his side for five minutes, without getting sleepy." +</P> + +<P> +"He does not seem so very dull to me, Cara," replied her companion. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a true saying, that there never was a Jack without a Jill; +but I could not have believed that my friend Jane Emory would have +been willing to be the Jill to such a Jack." +</P> + +<P> +A slight change was perceptible in the countenance of Jane Emory, +and for a moment the color deepened on her cheek. But when she spoke +in reply to her friend's remark, no indication that she felt its +cutting import, was perceptible. +</P> + +<P> +"I am convinced, from close observation of Walter Gray," said Jane, +"that he has in his character that which should ever protect him +from jest or ridicule." +</P> + +<P> +"And what is that, my lady Jane?" +</P> + +<P> +"Right thoughts and sound principles." +</P> + +<P> +"Fiddle stick!" +</P> + +<P> +"These should not only be respected, but honored wherever found," +said Jane, gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"In a bear or a boor!" Cara responded, in a tone of irony. +</P> + +<P> +"My friend Cara is ungenerous in her allusions. Surely, she will not +assert that Walter Gray is a bear or a boor?" +</P> + +<P> +"He is boorish enough, at any rate." +</P> + +<P> +"There I differ with you, Cara. His manner is not so showy, nor his +attentions to the many little forms and observances of social life, +so prompt as to please the fastidious in these matters. These +defects, however, are not defects of character, but of education. He +has not mingled enough in society to give him confidence." +</P> + +<P> +"They are defects, and are serious enough to make him quite +offensive to me. Last evening, at Mrs. Clinton's party, I sat beside +him for half an hour, and was really disgusted with his marked +disregard of the little courtesies of social life." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" replied Jane, her manner becoming more serious, "and in +what did these omissions consist?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, in the first place, while we were conversing,——" +</P> + +<P> +"He could converse, then?" said Jane, interrupting her friend. +</P> + +<P> +"O, no, I beg pardon! While we were <I>trying</I> to converse—for among +his other defects is an inability to talk to a lady on any subject +of interest—I dropped my handkerchief, on purpose, of course, but +he never offered to lift it for me; indeed, I doubt whether he saw +it at all." +</P> + +<P> +"Then, Cara, how could you expect him to pick it up for you, if he +did not see it?" +</P> + +<P> +"But he ought to have seen it. He should have had his eyes about +him; and so should every gentleman who sits by or is near a lady. I +know one that never fails." +</P> + +<P> +"And pray, who is the perfect gentleman?" asked Jane smiling. "Is he +one of my acquaintances?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly he is. I mean Charles Wilton." +</P> + +<P> +"He is, I must confess, different from Walter Gray," Jane remarked, +drily. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope he is!" said Cara, tossing her head, for she felt that +something by no means complimentary was implied in the equivocal +remark of her friend. +</P> + +<P> +"But, seriously, Cara, I must, in turn, express regret that you +allow yourself to feel interested in one like Charles Wilton. Trust +me, my friend, he is unworthy of your regard." +</P> + +<P> +"And pray, Miss," said Cara, warming suddenly, "what do you know of +Charles Wilton, that will warrant your throwing out such +insinuations against him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Little beyond what I have learned by my own observation." +</P> + +<P> +"And what has that taught you? I should like very much to know." +</P> + +<P> +"It has taught me, Cara," replied Jane, seriously, "to estimate him +very lightly indeed. From what I have seen, I am convinced that he +possesses neither fixed principles nor any decision of character. In +the world, without these a man is like a ship upon the ocean, having +neither helm nor compass." +</P> + +<P> +"You make broad and bold charges, Jane. But I am sure you are +mistaken." +</P> + +<P> +"I may be. But so certain am I that I am right, that I would rather +die this hour than be compelled to link my lot in life with his. +Certain I am that I should make shipwreck of hope and affection." +</P> + +<P> +"You deal in riddles, Jane. Speak out more plainly." +</P> + +<P> +"Surely, Cara, long before this you have or ought to have +discovered, that Charles Wilton exhibits far too much love of +appearance for a sensible man. He dresses in the very best style and +may be able to afford it; but that is not all;—he evidently esteems +these external embellishments of superior importance to mental or +moral endowments. He rarely fails to remark upon men not so well +dressed as himself, and to refer to the defect as one sufficient to +make the individual contemptible, no matter what may be the +circumstances or merit of the person referred to. I have more than +once noticed that Charles Wilton passes over every thing in his +disgust for defect in dress." +</P> + +<P> +"I do not see a matter of serious importance in that," said Cara. +"His love of dress is a mere foible, that may be excused. It +certainly has nothing to do with his real character." +</P> + +<P> +"It is an indication of the man's true character," her friend +replied. "I am sure that I want no plainer exhibition. If he was +simply fond of dress, and indulged in that fondness even to the +extent he now does it might indicate a mere weakness of character, +in the form of an undue love of admiration. But when, to this, we +see a disposition to value others, and to judge of them by their +garments, then we may be sure that there is a serious defect of +character. The man, Cara, believe me, who has no higher standard of +estimation for other men, than the form, manner, and texture of +their garments, has not the capacity rightly to value a woman or to +know wherein her true merit lies. This is <I>one</I> of the reasons why I +said that I would rather die than link my lot in life with that +young man." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, as for me, Jane, I am sure that I would rather have a man +with some spirit in him, than to be tied to such a drone as Walter +Gray. Why, I should die in a week. I can't for my life, see how you +can enjoy his society for a moment!" +</P> + +<P> +"I should think any woman ought to be able to enjoy the company of a +man of sense," Jane remarked, quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely, Jane, you don't pretend by that to set up Walter Gray as +the superior of Charles Wilton in regard to intelligence?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly I do, Cara." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Jane! There is no comparison, in this respect, between them. +Every one knows that while Walter is dull, even to stupidity, +Charles has a brilliant, well-informed mind. It is only necessary to +hear each converse for an hour, to decide upon their respective +merits." +</P> + +<P> +"In that last sentence you have uttered the truth, Cara, but the +result would depend much upon the character of the listeners. For a +time, no doubt, if Charles made an effort to show off, he would +eclipse the less brilliant and unobtrusive Walter. But a close and +discriminating observer would soon learn to judge between sound and +sense, between borrowed thoughts and truthful sentiments originating +in a philosophical and ever active mind. The shallow stream runs +sparkling and flashing in the sunlight, while the deeper waters lie +dark and unattractive." +</P> + +<P> +Cara shook her head as her friend ceased speaking, and replied, +laughingly— +</P> + +<P> +"You can beat me at talking, Jane—but all your philosophy and +poetry can't make me think Charles Wilton less brilliant and +sensible, or Walter Gray less dull and spiritless." +</P> + +<P> +The two young men whose merits Jane Emory and Cara Linton had thus +been discussing, had been law students for some years in the same +office, and were now just admitted to practice at the bar in one of +our Atlantic cities. They were friends, though altogether unlike +each other. Walter Gray was modest and retiring, while Charles +Wilton was a dashing, off-hand kind of a fellow, with more +pretensions than merit. The mind of Walter was rather sluggish, +while that of his friend was quick, and what some were disposed to +esteem brilliant. The one was fond of dress and show, and effect; +while the other paid less regard to these things than was really +necessary to make him, with many, an agreeable companion. But the +quick perceptions of the one were not equal to the patient, untiring +application of the other. When admitted to practice, Wilton could +make an effective, brilliant speech, and in ordinary cases, where an +appeal to the feelings could influence a jury, was uniformly +successful. But, where profound investigation, concise reasoning, +and a laborious array of authorities were requisite, he was no +competitor for his friend Gray. He was vain of his personal +appearance, as has before been indicated, and was also fond of +pleasure and company. In short, he was one of those dashing young +men to be met with in all professions, who look upon business as an +necessary evil, to be escaped whenever a opportunity offers—whose +expectations of future prosperity are always large, and who look for +success, not in the roads of patient, laborious application, but by +a quicker and more brilliant way. They hope to produce a sensation +by their tact or talents, and thus take fortune by storm. Few, +indeed we might say none, of this class succeed. Those who startle a +community by rapid advances, are, in all cases, such as have, to +quick perceptions and brilliant powers, added much labor. Talent is +nothing without prolonged and patient application; and they who +suppose the road to success lies in any other way, may discover +their error too late. +</P> + +<P> +The estimation in which the characters of these two young men was +held, at least by two individuals, the preceding conversation has +apprised the reader. Each made his impression upon a certain order +of mind, and each was regarded, or lightly esteemed accordingly. +Although in talents and in a right estimation of life and its true +ends, the two young men were altogether dissimilar; yet were they +friends, and in many respects intimate. Why they were so, we shall +not stop to enquire, but proceed to introduce them more particularly +to the reader. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you are going to Mrs. Melton's this evening?" said Wilton +to his friend, a few weeks after the period indicated in the opening +of this story. +</P> + +<P> +"I feel as if I would like to go. A social evening, now and then, I +find pleasant, and I have no doubt it is useful to me." +</P> + +<P> +"That is right, Walter. I am glad to see you coming out of your +recluse habits. You want the polish and ease that social life will +give you." +</P> + +<P> +"I feel that, Wilton. But I fear I am too old now to have all the +rough corners knocked off, and worn smooth." +</P> + +<P> +"O, don't despair. You'll make a ladies' man after awhile, if you +persevere, and become more particular in your dress. But, to change +the subject, a little, tell me what you think of Cara Linton? Her +father is worth a plum, and she is just the showy, brilliant woman, +of which a man like me ought to be proud of." +</P> + +<P> +"As you ask me, Charles, I must reply candidly. I would think her a +dear bargain with all her father's money thrown in with her; and as +to your other reasons for thinking of her as a wife, I consider +them, to speak plainly, as I always do to you, despicable!" +</P> + +<P> +"And why so, Mr. Philosopher?" +</P> + +<P> +"A wife should be chosen from much higher considerations than these. +What do you want with a brilliant, showy wife? You marry, or ought +to marry, a companion for yourself—not a woman for the world to +admire." +</P> + +<P> +"You are too matter-of-fact, by half, Walter. Your common sense +ideas, as you call them, will keep you grubbing in a mole hill all +your life. +</P> + +<P> +"I should like to see the woman <I>you</I> would choose for a wife!" +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you had a few of these common sense ideas you despise so +much. I am afraid, Charles, that the time is not very distant when +you will stand sadly in need of them." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't trouble yourself, Walter. I'll take care of number one. Let +me alone for that. But, I should like to know your serious +objections to Cara? You sweep her aside with one wave of your hand, +as if she were too insignificant to be thought of for a moment." +</P> + +<P> +"I said that <I>I</I> should consider her a dear bargain, and so I +would—for she would not suit me at all." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, there I believe you. But come, let me hear why she would not +suit you." +</P> + +<P> +"Because she has no correct and common sense estimation of life and +its relations. She is full of poetry and romance, and fashion, and +show, and 'all that kind of thing;' none of which, without a great +deal of the salt of common sense, would suit me." +</P> + +<P> +"Common sense! Common sense! Common sense! That is your hobby. +Verily, Walter, you are a monomaniac on the subject of common sense; +but, as for me, I will leave common sense to common people. I go in +for uncommon sense." +</P> + +<P> +"The poorest and most unprofitable sense of all, let me tell you. +And one of these days you will discover it to be so." +</P> + +<P> +"It is no use for us to compare our philosophical notes, I see +plainly enough," Wilton responded. "We shall never view things in +the same light. You are not the man of the world you should be, +Walter. Men of half your merit will eclipse you, winning opulence +and distinction—while you, with your common sense notions, will be +plodding on at a snail's pace. You are behind the age, and a +stranger to its powerful, onward impulses." +</P> + +<P> +"And ever do I desire to remain behind the age, Wilton, if mere +pretension and show be its ruling and impulsive spirit." +</P> + +<P> +"The old fashioned way of attaining eminence," Charles Wilton +replied, assuming an attitude and speaking out truly the thoughts +that were in his mind; "by plodding on with the emmet's patience, +and storing up knowledge, grain by grain, brings not the hoped for +reward, now. You must startle and surprise. The brilliant meteor +attracts a thousand times more attention, than the brightest star +that shines in the firmament." +</P> + +<P> +"You are trifling, Charles." +</P> + +<P> +"Never was more in earnest in my life. I have made up my mind to +succeed; to be known and envied. And to gain the position of +eminence I desire, I mean to take the surest way. The world <I>will</I> +be deceived, and, therefore, they who would succeed must throw dust +in people's eyes." +</P> + +<P> +"Or, in other words, deceive them by pretension. Charles, let me +warn you against any such unmanly, and, I must say, dishonest +course. Be true to yourself and true to principle." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall certainly be true to myself, Walter. For what pray do we +toil over dry and musty law books in a confined office, months and +years, if not to gain the power of rising in the world? I have +served my dreary apprenticeship—I have learnt the art and mystery, +and now for the best and most certain mode of applying it." +</P> + +<P> +"But, remember your responsibility to society. Your——" +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense! What do I, or what does any one else care about society? +My motto is, Every one for himself, and the deuce take the hindmost. +And that's the motto of the whole world." +</P> + +<P> +"Not of the whole world, Charles." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, of the whole world, with, perhaps, the single, strange +exception of Walter Gray. And he will be flung to the wall, and soon +forgotten, I fear." +</P> + +<P> +"You jest on a serious subject, Charles." +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you, Walter, I am in earnest," Wilton replied with emphasis. +"He that would be ahead, must get ahead in the best way possible. +But I cannot linger here. It is now nearly night; and it will take +me full two hours to prepare myself to meet Miss Cara Linton. I must +make a captive of the dashing maiden this very evening." And so +saying, he turned, and left the office. +</P> + +<P> +That evening, amid a gay and fashionable assemblage at Mrs. +Merton's, was to be seen the showy Charles Wilton, with his easy, +and even elegant manners, attracting almost as much attention as his +vain heart could desire. And the quiet, sensible Walter Gray was +there also, looking upon all things with a calm, philosophic mien. +</P> + +<P> +"Your friend Mr. Wilton is quite the centre of attraction for the +young ladies, this evening," remarked Jane Emory, who was leaning +upon the arm of Walter Gray, and listening with an interest she +scarcely dared confess to herself, to his occasional remarks, that +indicated a mind active with true and healthful thought. +</P> + +<P> +"And he seems to enjoy it," replied Walter, with a pleasant tone and +smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Almost too much so, it seems to me, for a man," his companion said, +though with nothing censorious in her manner. She merely expressed a +sentiment without showing that it excited unkind feelings. +</P> + +<P> +"Or for a woman, either," was the quick response. +</P> + +<P> +"True. But if pleased with attentions, and even admiration may we +not be excused?" +</P> + +<P> +"O, certainly. We may all be excused for our weaknesses; still they +are weaknesses, after all." +</P> + +<P> +"And therefore should not be encouraged." +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly not. We should be governed by some higher end than the +mere love of admiration—even admiration for good qualities." +</P> + +<P> +"I admit the truth of what you say, and yet, the state is one to +which I have not yet attained." +</P> + +<P> +Walter Gray turned a look full of tender interest upon the maiden by +his side, as she ceased speaking, and said in a tone that had in it +much of tenderness, +</P> + +<P> +"You express, Miss Emory, but the feeling which every one has who +truly desires the attainment of true excellence of character. We +have not this excellence, naturally, but it is within the compass of +effort. Like you, I have had to regret the weaknesses and +deficiencies of my own character. But, in self-government, as in +everything else, my motto is, Persevere to the end. The same motto, +or the same rule of action, clothed in other words, perhaps, I +trust—nay, I am sure, rules in your mind." +</P> + +<P> +For a few moments Jane did not reply. She feared to utter any form +of words that would mislead. At length she said, modestly, +</P> + +<P> +"I try to subdue in me what is evil, or that which seems to me to +act in opposition to good principles." +</P> + +<P> +Before Walter Gray, pleased with the answer, could frame in his mind +a fitting reply, Charles Wilton, with Cara Linton on his arm, was +thrown in front of them. +</P> + +<P> +"Has Walter been edifying you with one of the Psalms of David, Miss +Emory?" said Wilton, gaily. "One would think so from his solemn +face, and the demure, thoughtful expression of yours." +</P> + +<P> +Neither Walter nor his fair companion were what is called +quick-witted; and both were so checked in their thoughts and +feelings that neither could, on the moment, fitly reply. +</P> + +<P> +"O, I see how it is," the gay young man continued. "He has been +reading you some of his moral homilies, and you are tired to death. +Well, you must bear with him, Miss Emory, he will learn better after +awhile." And the young man and his thoughtless companion turned +laughing away. +</P> + +<P> +For a few moments the disturbed thoughts of Walter and his fair +friend, trembled upon the surface of their feelings, and then all +was again as tranquil as the bosom of a quiet lake. +</P> + +<P> +Enough has now been said, to give a fair idea of the ends which the +two young men, we have introduced, set before them upon entering +life. Let us now proceed to trace the effects of these ends; +effects, which, as a necessary consequence, involved others as much +as themselves. +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II. +</H4> + +<P> +"Well, Gray, the business is all settled," said Wilton, one day, +coming into the office of the individual he addressed so familiarly. +</P> + +<P> +"What business, Charles?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I've won the rich and beautiful Miss Linton. Last night I told +my story, and was referred to the old man, of course. I have just +seen him, and he says I am welcome to the hand of his daughter. Now, +is not that a long stride up the ladder! The most beautiful and +attractive woman in the city for a wife, and an old daddy in law as +rich as Croesus!" +</P> + +<P> +"You are what some would call a lucky dog," said Wilton, with a +smile. +</P> + +<P> +"And yet there is no luck in it. 'Faint heart, they say, 'never won +fair lady.' I knew half-a-dozen clever fellows who were looking to +Miss Linton's hand; but while they hesitated, I stepped boldly up +and carried off the prize. Let me alone, Walter. I'll work my way +through the world." +</P> + +<P> +"And I, too, have been doing something in that line." +</P> + +<P> +"You? Why, Walter, you confound me! I never dreamed that you would +have the courage to make love to a woman." +</P> + +<P> +"Wiser ones than you are mistaken, sometimes." +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt of it. But who is the fair lady?" +</P> + +<P> +"Can you not guess?" +</P> + +<P> +"Jane Emory?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. She is the most sensible women it has yet been my +fortune to meet." +</P> + +<P> +"Has the best common sense, I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly." +</P> + +<P> +"You are a genius, Walter. When you die, I expect you will leave a +clause in your will, to the effect that the undertaker shall be a +man of good, plain, common sense. O dear! What a dull life you will +lead! Darby and Joan!" +</P> + +<P> +"You are still a trifler with serious matters, Charles. But time +will sober you, I trust, and do it before such a change will come +too late." +</P> + +<P> +"How much is old Emory worth, Walter?" Wilton asked, without +regarding the last remark of his friend. +</P> + +<P> +"I am sure I do not know. Not a great deal, I suppose." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't know?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; how should I?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you are a queer one! It is time that you did then, let me +tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"Why so?" +</P> + +<P> +"In the name of sense, Walter, what are you going to marry his +daughter for." +</P> + +<P> +"Because I love her." +</P> + +<P> +"Pah! I know how much of that sort of thing appertains to the +business." +</P> + +<P> +"Charles!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't look so utterly dumfounded, friend Walter." +</P> + +<P> +"I am surprised, and I must say pained, to hear you speak thus. +Surely you love the young lady you propose to marry?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. But then I have a decent regard for her old father's +wealth; and I am by no means insensible to her personal attractions. +I group all that is desirable into one grand consideration—beauty, +wealth, standing, mental endowments, etc.,—and take her for the +whole. But for love—a mere impulse that will die of itself, if left +alone,—to marry a young lady! O no,—I am not the simpleton for +that!" +</P> + +<P> +Walter Gray looked his friend in the face for a moment or two, but +did not reply. He was pained, even shocked at his levity. +</P> + +<P> +"You seem really to doubt my being in earnest?" said Wilton, after a +pause. +</P> + +<P> +"I would doubt, if I could, Charles. But I fear you are speaking out +too truly, sentiments that I could not have believed you capable of +entertaining." +</P> + +<P> +"You are too simple and unsophisticated to live in this world, my +old friend Walter Gray." +</P> + +<P> +"And long may I remain so," was the calm response, "if to be honest +and sincere is to be simple and unsophisticated." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, good morning to you, and success to your love marriage." +</P> + +<P> +And so saying, Charles Wilton left the office of his friend. +</P> + +<P> +A few weeks more passed away, and the two young men had, in the +meantime, consummated their matrimonial engagements. The wedding of +Charles Wilton and Cara Linton was a splendid affair, succeeded by +parties and entertainments for five or six weeks. That of Walter +Gray and Jane Emory passed off more quietly and rationally. +</P> + +<P> +Three months after their wedding-day, let us look in upon the two +friends and their fair partners; and first, upon Charles Wilton and +his bride. The time is evening, and they are sitting alone in one of +their richly furnished parlors. +</P> + +<P> +"O dear!" yawned out Wilton, rising and walking backwards and +forwards, "this is dull work. Is there no place where we can go and +spend a pleasant evening?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know, dear. Suppose we step over and see Pa?" +</P> + +<P> +"O no. We were there two or three evenings ago. And, any how, I am +in no humor for playing at draughts." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I should like to go there this evening. I want to see Ma +about something." +</P> + +<P> +"You can easily go to-morrow, Cara, and stay as long as you choose." +</P> + +<P> +"But I should like to go to night, dear." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't think of it, Cara." +</P> + +<P> +"Then suppose we call in and sit an hour with the Melton's?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not to-night, Cara. The old man is deaf, and talks you out of all +patience about sugars and teas cotton and tobacco." +</P> + +<P> +"But the girls are lively and entertaining." +</P> + +<P> +"Not for me, Cara. Think again." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not stay at home?" +</P> + +<P> +"And pray what shall we do here?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll sing and play for you." +</P> + +<P> +"I am in no humor for music to-night." +</P> + +<P> +His young wife sighed, but Wilton did not notice it. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, let us go over to the Grogans?" he at length said. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't say that I care much about going there," his wife replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not. You never seem to care much about going where I wish +to," said Wilton, pettishly. +</P> + +<P> +His wife burst into tears, and sat sobbing for some minutes, during +which time Wilton paced the room backwards and forwards, in moody +silence. After a while his wife rose up and stole quietly from the +room, and in a few minutes returned, dressed, to go out. +</P> + +<P> +"I am ready," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Ready to go where?" +</P> + +<P> +"To Mr. Grogan's, of course. You wish to go." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care about going now, as long as you are unwilling." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but I am willing, Charles, if the visit will be pleasant to +you." +</P> + +<P> +"O, as to that, I don't wish to compel you to go anywhere." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed, Charles, I am willing to go," said his wife, while her +voice trembled and sounded harshly. "Come, now that I am ready. I +wish to go." +</P> + +<P> +For a moment longer Wilton hesitated, and then took up his hat and +went with her. Few were the words that passed between them as they +walked along the street. Arrived at their friend's house they both +suddenly changed, and were as gay, and seemed as happy, as the +gayest and the happiest. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall we call in upon some pleasant friends to-night or spend our +evening alone?" asked Walter Gray, taking a seat upon the sofa +beside his happy wife, on the same evening that the foregoing +conversation and incidents occurred. +</P> + +<P> +"Let it be as you wish, Walter," was the affectionate, truthful +reply. +</P> + +<P> +"As for me, Jane, I am always happy at home—too happy, I sometimes +think." +</P> + +<P> +"How, too happy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Too happy to think of others, Jane. We must be careful not to +become isolated and selfish in our pleasures. Our social character +must not be sacrificed. If it is in our power to add to the +happiness of others, it is right that we should mingle in the social +circle." +</P> + +<P> +"I feel the truth of what you say, Walter, and yet I find it hard to +be thus unselfish. I am sure that I would a thousand times rather +remain at home and read with you a pleasant book, or sing and play +for you, than to spend an evening away from our pleasant home." +</P> + +<P> +"I feel the same inclinations. But I am unwilling to encourage them. +And yet, I am not an advocate for continual visitings. The delights +of our own sweet fireside, small though the circle be, I would enjoy +often. But these pleasures will be increased tenfold by our +willingness to let others share them, and, also, by our joining in +their home—delights and social recreations." +</P> + +<P> +A pause of a few moments ensued, when Mrs. Gray said, +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose, then, Walter, we call over and see how they are getting on +at 'home?' Pa and Ma are lonesome, now that I am away." +</P> + +<P> +"Just what I was thinking of, Jane. So get on your things, and we +will join them and spend a pleasant evening." +</P> + +<P> +These brief conversations will indicate to the reader how each of +the young men and their wives were thus early beginning to reap the +fruits of true and false principles of action. We cannot trace each +on his career, step by step, during the passage of many years, +though much that would interest and instruct could be gathered from +their histories. The limits of a brief story like this will not +permit us thus to linger. On, then, to the grand result of their +lives we must pass. Let us look at the summing up of the whole +matter, and see which of the young men started with the true secret +of success in the world, and which of the young ladies evinced most +wisdom in her choice of a husband. +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III. +</H4> + +<P> +"Poor Mrs. Wilton!" remarked Mrs. Gray, now a cheerful, intelligent +woman of forty, with half-a-dozen grown and half-grown up daughters, +"it makes me sad whenever I see her, or think of her." +</P> + +<P> +"Her husband was not kind to her, I believe, while she lived with +him," said Mrs. Gray's visitor, whom she had addressed. +</P> + +<P> +"It is said so. But I am sure I do not know. I never liked him, nor +thought him a man of principle. I said as much as I thought prudent +to discourage her from receiving his attentions. But she was a gay +girl herself, and was attracted by dashing pretension, rather than +by unobtrusive merit." +</P> + +<P> +"It was thought at one time that Mr. Wilton would lead in the +profession here. I remember when his name used frequently to get +into the newspapers, coupled with high compliments on his brilliant +talents." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. He flashed before the eyes of the crowd for awhile, but it was +soon discovered that he had more brilliancy than substance. The loss +of two or three important cases, that required solid argument and a +well-digested array of facts and authorities, instead of flights of +fancy and appeals to the feelings, ruined his standing at the bar. +The death of his father-in-law, with an insolvent estate, +immediately after, took wonderfully from the estimation in which he +was held. Thrown, thus, suddenly back, and upon his own resources, +he sunk at once from the point of observation, and lingered around +the court-house, picking up petty cases, as a matter of necessity. +Long before this, I had noticed that Mrs. Wilton had greatly +changed. But now a sadder change took place—a separation from her +husband. The cause of this separation I know not. I never asked her, +nor to me has she ever alluded to it. But it is said that his manner +towards her became insufferable, and that she sought protection and +an asylum among her friends. Be the cause what it may, it is enough +to make her a poor, heart-stricken creature." +</P> + +<P> +"How well I remember, when their parties were the most splendid and +best attended of the season." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I well remember it too. Still, even then, gay and brilliant as +Mrs. Wilton was, I never thought her happy. Indeed, seeing her often +alone as I did, I could not but mark the painful contrast in her +spirits. At home, when not entertaining company, she was listless or +unhappy. How often have I come in upon her, and noticed her +moistened eyes." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah me! it must be a wrong beginning that makes so sad an ending." +</P> + +<P> +The truth of the remark, as applicable in this case, struck Mrs. +Gray forcibly, and she mused in thoughtful silence for a few +moments. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you heard the news, Judge Gray?" said a lawyer, addressing the +individual he had named, about the same hour that the conversation, +just noted, occurred. +</P> + +<P> +"No. What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Wilton has committed a forgery." +</P> + +<P> +"O no, it cannot be!" said the Judge, in tones of painful surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"It is too true, I fear, Judge." +</P> + +<P> +"Is the amount considerable?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ten thousand dollars is the sum mentioned." +</P> + +<P> +"Has he been arrested?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. But the officers are hard after him. The newspapers will +announce the fact to-morrow morning." +</P> + +<P> +Judge Gray leaned his head upon his hand, and, with his eyes cast +upon the floor, sat for some moments in painful thought. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor man!" he at length said, looking up. "The end has come at +last. I have long feared for him. He started wrong in the +beginning." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope they will catch him," remarked the individual he was +addressing. +</P> + +<P> +Judge Gray did not reply, but cast his eyes again upon the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"He has lived by gambling these six years," continued the lawyer, +"and I suppose he has committed this forgery to pay some 'debt of +honor.' Well, I can't say that I am sorry to be rid of him from this +bar, for he was not a pleasant man to be forced into contact with." +</P> + +<P> +"And yet he was a man of some talents," remarked the Judge, +musingly. +</P> + +<P> +"And when that is said all is said. Without industry, legal +knowledge, or sound principles of action, what was he good for? He +would do for a political stump declaimer—but, as a lawyer, in any +case of moment, he was not worth a copper." +</P> + +<P> +And thus saying, the lawyer turned away, and left Judge Gray to his +own thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +"I have unpleasant news to tell you, Jane," said Judge Gray, coming +into the room where sat his wife, an hour afterwards. +</P> + +<P> +"What is that, husband?" asked Mrs. Gray, looking up with a +concerned countenance. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, our old friend Charles Wilton has committed a forgery!" +</P> + +<P> +"Poor Cara! It will break her heart," Mrs. Gray said in a sad tone. +</P> + +<P> +"I do not suppose she has much affection for him, Jane." +</P> + +<P> +"No, but she has a good deal of pride left—all, in fact, that +sustains her. This last blow, I fear, will be too much for one who +has no true strength of character." +</P> + +<P> +"Would it not be well for you to call in and see her to-morrow? The +papers will all announce the fact in the morning, and she may need +the consolation which a true friend might be able to afford her." +</P> + +<P> +"I will go, most certainly, much as my natural feelings shrink from +the task. Where she is, I am sure she has no one to lean upon: for +there is not one of her so-called friends, upon whom she feels +herself a burden, that can or will sympathize with her truly." +</P> + +<P> +"Go, then. And may mercy's errand find mercy's reward." +</P> + +<P> +On the next morning all the city papers teemed with accounts of the +late forgery, and blazoned Charles Wilton's name, with many +opprobrious epithets before the public. Some went even so far as to +allude to his wife, whom they said he had forsaken years before, and +who was now, it was alleged, living in poverty, and, some hinted in +disgrace and infamy. +</P> + +<P> +Early in the day, Mrs. Gray repaired to the cheerless home of her +early friend. She was shown to her chamber, where she found her +lying insensible on the bed, with one of the newspapers in her hand, +that alluded to herself in disgraceful terms. +</P> + +<P> +Long and patient efforts to restore her, at length produced the +desired result. But it was many days before she seemed distinctly +conscious of what was passing or would converse with any degree of +coherency. +</P> + +<P> +"Come and spend a few weeks with me, Cara." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Gray said to her, one day, on calling in to see her; "I am sure +it will do you good." +</P> + +<P> +There was a sad, but grateful expression in the pale face of Mrs. +Wilton, as she looked into the eye of her old friend, but ventured +no reply. +</P> + +<P> +"You will come, will you not, Cara?" urged Mrs. Gray. +</P> + +<P> +"My presence in your happy family would be like the shadow of an +evil wing," said she bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +"Our happy family, say-rather, would chase away the gloomy shadows +that darken your heart. Come then, and we will give you a cheerful +welcome." +</P> + +<P> +"I feel much inclined, and yet I hesitate, for I ought not to throw +a gloom over your household," and the tears filled her eyes, and +glistened through the lids which were closed suddenly over them. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, and welcome!" Mrs. Gray urged, taking her hand and gently +pressing it. +</P> + +<P> +That evening Mrs. Wilton spent in the pleasant family of her old +friend. +</P> + +<P> +Three weeks afterwards, Mrs. Gray asked of her husband, if anything +had been heard of Mr. Wilton. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing," he replied. "He has escaped all pursuit thus far, and the +officers, completely at fault, have returned." +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot say that I am sorry, at least for the sake of his wife. +She seems more cheerful since she came here. I feel sometimes as if +I should like to offer her a home, for she has none, that might +truly be so called." +</P> + +<P> +"Act up to your kind desire, Jane, if you think it right to do so," +said her husband. "Perhaps in no other home open to her could so +much be done for her comfort." +</P> + +<P> +The home was accordingly offered, and tearfully accepted. +</P> + +<P> +"Jane," said the sad hearted woman, "I cannot tell you how much I +have suffered in the last twenty years. How much from +heart-sickening disappointments, and lacerated affections. High +hopes and brilliant expectations that made my weak brain giddy to +think of, have all ended thus. How weak and foolish—how mad we +were! But my husband was not all to blame. I was as insane in my +views of life as he. We lived only for ourselves—thought and cared +only for ourselves—and here is the result. How wisely and well did +you choose, Jane. Where my eye saw nothing to admire, yours more +skilled, perceived the virgin ore of truth. I was dazzled by show, +while you looked below the surface, and saw true character, and its +effect in action. How signally has each of us been rewarded!" and +the heart-stricken creature bowed her head and wept. +</P> + +<P> +And now, kind reader, if there be one who has followed us thus far, +are you disappointed in not meeting some startling denoument, or +some effective point in this narrative. I hope not. Natural results +have followed, in just order, the adoption of true and false +principles of action—and thus will they ever follow. Learn, then, a +lesson from the history of the two young men and the maidens of +their choice. Let every young man remember, that all permanent +success in life depends upon the adoption of such principles of +action as are founded in honesty and truth; and let every young +woman take it to heart, that all her married life will be affected +by the principles which her husband sets down as rules of action. +Let her give no consideration to his brilliant prospect, or his +brilliant mind, if sound moral principles do not govern him. +</P> + +<P> +"But what became of Charles Wilton and his wife?" I hear a +bright-eyed maiden asking, as she turns half impatient from my +homily. +</P> + +<P> +Wilton has escaped justice thus far, and his wife, growing more and +more cheerful every day, is still the inmate of Judge Gray's family, +and I trust will remain so until the end of her journeying here. And +what is more, she is learning the secret, that there is more +happiness in caring for others, than in being all absorbed in +selfish consideration. Still, she is a sad wreck upon the stream of +life—a warning beacon for your eyes, young lady. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="neighbors"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VISITING AS NEIGHBORS. +</H3> + +<P> +"I see that the house next door has been taken," remarked Mr. Leland +to his wife, as they sat alone one pleasant summer evening. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. The family moved in to-day," returned Mrs. Leland. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know their name?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is Halloran." +</P> + +<P> +"Halloran, Halloran," said Mr. Leland, musingly. "I wonder if it's +the same family that lived in Parker Street." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, the same; and I wish they had stayed there." +</P> + +<P> +"Their moving in next door need not trouble us, Jane. They are not +on our list of acquaintances." +</P> + +<P> +"But I shall have to call upon Mrs. Haloran; and Emma upon her +grown-up daughter Mary." +</P> + +<P> +"I do not see how that is to follow as a consequence of their +removal into our neighborhood." +</P> + +<P> +"Politeness requires us to visit them as neighbors." +</P> + +<P> +"Are they really our neighbors?" asked Mr. Leland, significantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly they are. How strange that you should ask the question!" +</P> + +<P> +"What constitutes them such? Not mere proximity, certainly. Because +a person happens to live in a house near by, can that make him or +her really a neighbor, and entitled to the attention and +consideration due a neighbor?" +</P> + +<P> +This remark caused Mrs. Leland to look thoughtful. "It ought not," +she said, after sitting silent a little while, "but still, it does." +</P> + +<P> +"I do not think so. A neighbor—that is, one to whom kind offices is +due—ought to come with higher claims than the mere fact of living +in a certain house located near by the dwelling in which we reside. +If mere location is to make any one a neighbor, we have no +protection against the annoyance and intrusions of persons we do not +like; nay, against evil-minded persons, who would delight more in +doing us injury than good. These Hallorans for instance. They move +in good society; but they are not persons to our mind. I should not +like to see you on terms of intimacy with Mrs. Halloran, or Jane +with her daughter. In fact, the latter I should feel, did it exist, +to be a calamity." +</P> + +<P> +"Still they <I>are</I> our neighbors," Mrs. Leland said. "I do not see +how we can avoid calling upon them." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," remarked the husband, "you have not thought seriously +enough on the subject. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is my neighbor? is a question of importance, and ought to be +answered in every mind. Something more than living in the same +street, or block of houses, is evidently implied in the word +neighbor. It clearly involves a reciprocity of good feelings. Mere +proximity in space cannot effect this. It requires another kind of +nearness—the nearness of similar affections; and these must, +necessarily, be unselfish; for in selfishness there is no +reciprocity. Under this view, could you consider yourself the +neighbor of such a person as Mrs. Halloran?" +</P> + +<P> +"No matter what the character, we should be kind to all. Every one +should be our neighbor, so far as this is concerned. Do you not +think so?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do not, Jane." +</P> + +<P> +"Should we not be kind to every one?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, kind; but not in the acceptation of the word as you have used +it. There is a false, as well as a true kindness. And it often +happens that true kindness appears to be any thing but what it +really is. In order to be kind to another, we are not always +required to exhibit flattering attentions. These often injure where +distance and reserve would do good. Besides, they too frequently +give power to such as are evil-disposed—a power that is exercised +injuriously to others." +</P> + +<P> +"But the simple fact of my calling upon Mrs. Halloran cannot, +possibly, give her the power of injuring me or any one else." +</P> + +<P> +"I think differently. The fact that you have called upon her will be +a reason for some others to do the same; for, you know, there are +persons who never act from a distinct sense of right, but merely +follow in the wake of others. Thus the influence of a selfish, +censorious, evil-minded woman will be extended. So far as you are +concerned, the danger may be greater than you imagine. Is Mary +Halloran, in your estimation, a fit companion for our daughter? +Could she become intimate with her, and not suffer a moral +deterioration?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think not." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure that a call upon Mrs. Halloran will not lead to this +result?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I am not <I>sure</I>. Still, I do not apprehend any danger." +</P> + +<P> +"I should be very much afraid of the experiment." +</P> + +<P> +"But, do you not think, husband, that, apart from all these fears, I +am bound to extend to Mrs. Halloran the courtesies due a neighbor?" +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot, in the true sense of the word, consider her a neighbor; +and, therefore, do not see that you owe her the courtesies to which +you allude. It is the good in any one that really makes the +neighbor. This good should ever be regarded. But, to show +attentions, and give eminence and consideration to an evil-minded +person, is to make evil, instead of good, the neighbor.—It is to +give that power to evil which is ever exercised in injury to +others." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Leland's mind perceived only in a small degree the force of +what her husband said.—She was not a woman who troubled herself +about the characters of those who stood upon a certain level in +society. Mrs. Halloran claimed her place from wealth and family +connexions, and this place was rather above than below that occupied +by Mrs. Leland. The temptation to call upon her was, therefore, +pretty strong. It was not so much a regard for her new neighbor, as +a desire to make her acquaintance, that influenced her.—Acting in +opposition to her husband's judgment, in a few days she called upon +Mrs. Halloran. +</P> + +<P> +She found her, to use her own words, a "charming woman." The next +move was for the daughter to call upon Mary Halloran. Before the +week passed, these calls had been returned. In a month the two +families—that is, the female members of them—had become quite +intimate. This intimacy troubled Mr. Leland. He was a man of pure +principles, and could tolerate no deviation from them. Deeply did he +regret any association that might tend to weaken the respect for +such principles with which he had sought to inspire the mind of his +daughter. In them he knew lay the power that was to protect her in +the world. But he could not interfere, arbitrarily, with his wife; +that he would have considered more dangerous than to let her act in +freedom. But he felt concerned for the consequence, and frequently +urged her not to be too intimate with her new neighbor. +</P> + +<P> +"Some evil, I am sure, will grow out of it," he would say, whenever +allusion was in any way made to the subject of his wife's intimacy +with Mrs. Halloran. "No one can touch pitch and not be defiled." +</P> + +<P> +"I really must blame you," Mrs. Leland replied to a remark like +this, "for your blind opposition to Mrs. Halloran. The more I see of +her, the better I like her. She is a perfect lady. So kind, so +affable, so—so"— +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Leland shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"The mere gloss of polite society," he returned. "There is no +soundness in her heart. We know that, for the tree is judged by its +fruit." +</P> + +<P> +"We have seen no evil fruit," said the wife. +</P> + +<P> +"Others have, and we <I>know</I> that others have.—Her conduct in the +case of the Percys is notorious." +</P> + +<P> +"Common report is always exaggerated." +</P> + +<P> +"Though it usually has some foundation in truth. But granting all +the exaggeration and false judgment that usually appertain to common +report, is it not wiser to act as if common report were true, until +we know it to be false?" +</P> + +<P> +But it was useless for Mr. Leland to talk.—His wife was charmed +with the fascinating neighbor, and would hear nothing against her. +Jane, too, had become intimate with Mary Halloran, a bold-faced +girl, who spent half of her time in the street, and talked of little +else but beaux and dress. Jane was eighteen, and before her +acquaintance with Mary, had been but little into company. Her +intimacy with Mary soon put new notions into her head. She began to +think more of dress, and scarcely a day passed that she did not go +out with her very intimate and pleasant friend. Mrs. Leland did not +like this. Much as she was pleased Mrs. Halloran, she never fancied +the daughter a great deal, and would have been much better satisfied +if the two young ladies had not become quite so intimate. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are you going?" she said to Jane, who came down stairs +dressed to go out, one morning. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary and I are going to make some calls," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +"You were out making calls, yesterday, with Mary, and the day before +also. This is too great a waste of time, Jane. I would rather see +you at home more." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know why you should wish to confine me down to the house. +Mary Halloran goes and comes when she pleases." +</P> + +<P> +"Mary Halloran is in the street a great deal too much. I am far from +wishing to see you imitate her example." +</P> + +<P> +"But what harm is there in it, mother?" +</P> + +<P> +"A great deal, Jane. It gives idle habits, and makes the mind +dissatisfied with the more sober duties of life." +</P> + +<P> +"I am too young for the sober duties of life," said Jane, rather +pertly. +</P> + +<P> +"That is, doubtless, one of your friend Mary's sentiments; and it is +worthy of her." +</P> + +<P> +This was true, and Jane did not deny it. +</P> + +<P> +"Go now," said Mrs. Leland, with much sobriety of manner. "But +remember that I disapprove of this gadding about, and object to its +continuance. I should be very sorry to have your father know to what +extent you are carrying it." +</P> + +<P> +Jane went out and called for Mary, and the two young ladies made a +few calls, and then walked the streets until dinner time; not, +however, alone, but accompanied by a dashing young fellow, who had +been introduced to Mary a few evenings before, and now made bold to +follow up the acquaintance, encouraged by a glance from the young +lady's bright, inviting eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Leland, in the mean time, felt unhappy. Her daughter was +changing, and the change troubled her. The intimacy formed with Mary +Halloran, it was clear, was doing her no good, but harm. By this +time, too, she had noticed some things in the mother that were by no +means to her taste. There was a coarseness, vulgarity and want of +delicacy about her, that showed itself more and more every day, +traits of character particularly offensive to Mrs. Leland, who was a +woman of refined sentiments. Besides, Mrs. Halloran's conversation +involved topics neither interesting nor instructing to her +neighbors; and often of a decidedly objectionable kind. In fact, she +liked her less and less every day, and felt her too frequently +repeated visits as an annoyance; and though "Why don't you come in +to see me oftener?" was repeated almost daily, she did not return +more than one out of every half dozen calls she received. +</P> + +<P> +"I've seen Jane in the street with that Mary Halloran no less than +three times this week," said Mr. Leland, one day, "and on two of +these occasions there was a beau accompanying each of the young +ladies." +</P> + +<P> +"She goes out too often, I know," returned Mrs. Leland seriously. "I +have objected to it several times, but the girl's head seems turned +with that Mary Halloran. I do wish she had never known her." +</P> + +<P> +"So do I, from my heart. We knew what she was, and never should have +permitted Jane to make her acquaintance, if it had been in our power +to prevent it." +</P> + +<P> +"It is too late now, and can't be helped." +</P> + +<P> +"Too late to prevent the acquaintance, but not too late to prevent +some of the evil consequences likely to grow out of such an improper +intimacy, which must cease from the present time." +</P> + +<P> +"It will be a difficult matter to break it off now." +</P> + +<P> +"No matter how difficult it may be, it must be done. The first step +toward it you will have to make, in being less intimate with the +mother, whom I like less and less the oftener I meet her." +</P> + +<P> +"That step, so far as I am concerned, has already been taken. I have +ceased visiting Mrs. Halloran almost entirely; but she is here just +as often, and sadly annoys me. I dislike her more and more every +day." +</P> + +<P> +"If I saw as much in any one to object to as you see in Mrs. +Halloran, I would soon make visiting a thing by no means agreeable. +You can easily get rid of her intrusive familiarity if you think +proper." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, by offending her, and getting the ill-will of a low-minded +unprincipled woman; a thing that no one wants." +</P> + +<P> +"Better offend her than suffer, as we are likely to suffer, from a +continuance of the acquaintance. Offend the mother, I say, and thus +you get rid of the daughter." +</P> + +<P> +But Mrs. Leland was not prepared for this step, yet. From having +been fascinated by Mrs. Halloran, she now began to fear her. +</P> + +<P> +"I should not like to have her talk of me as she talks of some +people whom I think a great deal better than she is." +</P> + +<P> +"Let her talk. What she says will be no scandal," returned Mr. +Leland. +</P> + +<P> +"Even admit that, I don't want to be on bad terms with a neighbor. +If she were to remove from the neighborhood, the thing would assume +a different aspect. As it is, I cannot do as I please." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you indeed? Then I think we had better move forthwith, in +order that you may be free to act right. There is one thing that I +intend doing, immediately, in any event, and that is, to forbid Jane +from associating any longer with Mary Halloran." +</P> + +<P> +"She cannot help herself. Mary calls for her every day." +</P> + +<P> +"She can help going out with her and returning her calls; and this +she must do." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish it could be prevented. But I am afraid of harsh measures." +</P> + +<P> +"I am more afraid of the consequences to our daughter. We know not +into what company this indiscreet young lady may introduce, nor how +deeply she may corrupt her. Our duty to our child requires us at +once to break up all intercourse with the family." +</P> + +<P> +The necessity Mrs. Leland saw clearly enough, but she hesitated. Her +husband, however, was not a man to hold back when his duty was +before him. Neither fear nor favor governed him in his actions +toward others. When satisfied that a thing ought to be done, he +entered fearlessly upon the work, leaving consequences to take care +of themselves. +</P> + +<P> +While they were yet conversing Jane came to the door, accompanied by +a young gallant. Mr. Leland happened to be sitting near the window +and saw him. +</P> + +<P> +"Bless my heart!" he said, in an excited voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Here she is now, in company with that good-for-nothing son of Mr. +Clement. She might almost as well associate with Satan himself." +</P> + +<P> +"With John Clement?" asked Mrs. Leland, in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"It is too true; and the fellow had the assurance to kiss his hand +to her. This matter has gone quite far enough now, in all +conscience, and must be stopped, if half the world become offended." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Leland doubted and hesitated no longer. The young man who had +come home with Jane bore a notoriously bad character. It was little +less than disgrace, in the eyes of virtuous people, for a lady to be +seen in the street with him. Mr. and Mrs. Leland were shocked and +distressed at the appearance of things; and mutually resolved that +all intercourse with Mrs. Halloran and her daughter should cease. +This could not be effected without giving offence; but no matter, +offence would have to be given. +</P> + +<P> +On that very afternoon Mrs. Halloran called in. But Mrs. Leland sent +her word that she was engaged. +</P> + +<P> +"Engaged, indeed!" said the lady to the servant, tossing her head. +"I'm never engaged to a neighbor." +</P> + +<P> +The servant repeated the words. +</P> + +<P> +"Be engaged again, if she calls," said Mr. Leland, when his wife +mentioned the remark of her visitor. "It will raise an effectual +barrier between you." +</P> + +<P> +Some serious conversation was had with Jane that day by her mother, +but Jane was by no means submissive. +</P> + +<P> +"Your father positively forbids any farther intimacy between you and +Mary Halloran. I shall have nothing more to do with her mother." +</P> + +<P> +Jane met this declaration with a passionate gush of tears, and an +intimation that she was not prepared to sacrifice the friendship of +Mary, whom she believed to be quite as good as herself. +</P> + +<P> +"It must be done, Jane. Your father has the best of reasons for +desiring it, and I hope you will not think for a moment of opposing +his wishes." +</P> + +<P> +"He doesn't know Mary as I know her. His prejudices have no +foundation in truth," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"No matter how pure she may be," replied the mother, "she has +already introduced you into bad company. A virtuous young lady +should blush to be seen in the street with the man who came home +with you to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"Who, Mr. Clement?" inquired Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, John Clement. His bad conduct is so notorious as to exclude +him entirely from the families of many persons, who have the +independence to mark with just reprehension his evil deeds. It +grieves me to think that you were not instinctively repelled by him +the moment he approached you." +</P> + +<P> +Jane's manner changed at these words. But the change did not clearly +indicate to her mother what was passing in her mind. From that +moment she met with silence nearly every thing that her mother said. +</P> + +<P> +Early on the next day Mary Halloran called for Jane, as she was +regularly in the habit of doing. Mrs. Leland purposely met her at +the door, and when she inquired for Jane, asked her, with an air of +cold politeness, to excuse her daughter, as she was engaged. +</P> + +<P> +"Not engaged to <I>me</I>," said Mary, evincing surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"You must excuse her, Miss Halloran; she is engaged this morning," +returned the mother, with as much distance and formality as at +first. +</P> + +<P> +Mary Halloran turned away, evidently offended. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah me!" sighed Mrs. Leland, as she closed the door upon the giddy +young girl; "how much trouble has my indiscreetness cost me. My +husband was right, and I felt that he was right; but, in the face of +his better judgment, I sought the acquaintance of this woman, and +now, where the consequences are to end, heaven only knows." +</P> + +<P> +"Was that Mary Halloran?" inquired Jane, who came down stairs as her +mother returned along the passage. +</P> + +<P> +"It was," replied the mother. +</P> + +<P> +"Why did she go away?" +</P> + +<P> +"I told her you were engaged." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, mother!" Jane seemed greatly disturbed. +</P> + +<P> +"It is your father's wish as well as mine," said Mrs. Leland calmly, +"that all intercourse between you and this young lady cease, and for +reasons that I have tried to explain to you. She is one whose +company you cannot keep without injury." +</P> + +<P> +Jane answered with tears, and retired to her chamber, where she +wrote a long and tender letter to Mary, explaining her position. +This letter she got the chambermaid to deliver, and bribed her to +secrecy. Mary replied, in an epistle full of sympathy for her +unhappy condition, and full of indignation at the harsh judgment of +her parents in regard to herself. The letter contained various +suggestions in regard to the manner in which Jane ought to conduct +herself, none of them at all favorable to submission and concluded +with warm attestations of friendship. +</P> + +<P> +From that time an active correspondence took place between the young +ladies, and occasional meetings at times when the parents of Jane +supposed her to be at the houses of some of their friends. +</P> + +<P> +As for Mrs. Halloran, she was seriously offended at the sudden +repulse both she and her daughter had met, and spared no pains, and +let no opportunity go unimproved, for saying hard things of Mrs. +Leland and her family. Even while Mary was carrying on a tender and +confidential correspondence with Jane, she was hinting disreputable +things against the thoughtless girl, and doing her a serious injury. +</P> + +<P> +The first intimation that the parents had of any thing being wrong, +was the fact that two very estimable ladies, for whom they had a +high respect, and with whose daughters Jane was on terms of +intimacy, twice gave Jane the same answer that Mrs. Leland had given +Mary Halloran; thus virtually saying to her that they did not wish +her to visit their daughters. Both Mr. and Mrs. Leland, when Jane +mentioned these occurrences, left troubled. Not long after, a large +party was given by one of the ladies, but no invitations were sent +to either Mr. or Mrs. Leland, or their daughter. This was felt to be +an intended omission. +</P> + +<P> +After long and serious reflection on the subject, Mrs. Leland felt +it to be her duty, as a parent, to see this lady, and frankly ask +the reason of her conduct towards Jane, as well as toward her and +her husband. She felt called upon to do this, in order to ascertain +if there were not some things injurious to her daughter in common +report. The lady seemed embarrassed on meeting Mrs. Leland, but the +latter, without any excitement, or the appearance of being in the +least offended, spoke of what had occurred, and then said— +</P> + +<P> +"Now, there must be a reason for this. Will you honestly tell me +what it is?" +</P> + +<P> +The lady seemed confused and hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"Do not fear to speak plainly, my dear madam. Tell me the whole +truth. There is something wrong, and I ought to know it. Put +yourself in my place, and you will not long hesitate what to do." +</P> + +<P> +"It is a delicate and painful subject for me to speak of to you, +Mrs. Leland." +</P> + +<P> +"No matter. Speak out without disguise." +</P> + +<P> +After some reflection, the lady said— +</P> + +<P> +"I have daughters, and am tremblingly alive to their good. I feel it +to be my duty to protect them from all associations likely to do +them an injury. Am I not right in this?" +</P> + +<P> +"Undoubtedly." +</P> + +<P> +"There is one young man in this city whose very name should shock +the ear of innocence and purity. I mean Clement." +</P> + +<P> +"You cannot think worse of him than I do." +</P> + +<P> +"And yet, I am told, Mrs. Leland, that your daughter may be seen on +the street with him almost every day; and not only on the street, +but at balls, concerts, and the theatre." +</P> + +<P> +"Who says so?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have heard it from several," replied the lady, speaking slower +and more thoughtfully. "Mrs. Halloran mentioned it to the person who +first told me; and, since then, I have frequently heard it spoken +of." +</P> + +<P> +In answer to this, Mrs. Leland related the whole history of her +intercourse with Mrs. Halloran, and the cause of its interruption. +She then said— +</P> + +<P> +"Once, only, are we aware of our daughter's having met this young +man. Since then, she has gone out but rarely, and has not been from +home a single evening, unless in our company; so that the broad +charge of association with Clement is unfounded, and has had its +origin in a malignant spirit." +</P> + +<P> +"I understand it all, now, clearly," replied the lady. "Mrs. +Halloran is a woman of no principle. You have deeply offended her, +and she takes this method of being revenged." +</P> + +<P> +"That is the simple truth. I was urged by my husband not to call +upon her when she moved in our square, but I felt it to be only +right to visit her as a neighbor." +</P> + +<P> +"A woman like Mrs. Halloran is not to be regarded as a neighbor," +replied the lady. +</P> + +<P> +"So my husband argued, but I was blind enough to think differently, +and to act as I thought. Dearly enough am I paying for my folly. +Where the consequences will end is more than I can tell." +</P> + +<P> +"We may be able to counteract them to a certain extent," said the +lady. "Understanding as I now do, clearly, your position toward Mrs. +Halloran, I will be able to neutralize a great deal that she says. +But I am afraid your daughter is misleading you in some things, and +giving color to what is said of her." +</P> + +<P> +"How so?" asked Mrs. Leland in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Was she out yesterday?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. She went to see her cousins in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +"One of my daughters says she met her in the street, in company with +the very individual of whom we are speaking." +</P> + +<P> +"Impossible!" +</P> + +<P> +"My daughter says she is not mistaken," returned the lady. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Leland's distress of mind, as to this intelligence, may be +imagined. On returning home, she found that Jane had gone out during +her absence. She went up into her daughter's room, and found a note +addressed to Jane lying upon her table. After some reflection, she +felt it to be her duty to open the note, which she did. It was from +Mary Halloran, and in these words:— +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"MY SWEET FRIEND,—I saw Mr. Clement last night at the opera. He had +a great deal to say about you, and uttered many flattering +compliments on your beauty. He says that he would like to meet you +to-morrow evening, and will be at the corner of Eighth and Pine +streets at half past seven o'clock. Can you get away at that time, +without exciting suspicion? If you can, don't fail to meet him, as +he is very desirous that you should do so. I was delighted with the +opera, and wished a hundred times that you were with me to enjoy it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Yours, forever, +<BR> +"MARY." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Mrs. Leland clasped her hands together, and leaned forward upon the +bureau near which she had been standing, scarcely able to sustain +her own weight. It was many minutes before she could think clearly. +After much reflection, she thought it best not to say anything to +Jane about the note. This course was approved by Mr. Leland, who +believed with his wife, that it was better that Jane should be kept +in ignorance of its contents, at least until the time mentioned for +her joining Clement had passed. Both the parents were deeply +troubled; and bitterly did Mrs. Leland repent her folly in making +the acquaintance of their new neighbor, simply because she was a +neighbor according to proximity. +</P> + +<P> +It was after seven o'clock when the tea bell rang that evening. Mr. +and Mrs. Leland descended to the dining-room, and took their places +at the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is Jane?" asked Mrs. Leland, after they had been seated a few +moments. +</P> + +<P> +"She went out five or ten minutes ago," replied the waiter. +</P> + +<P> +Both the mother and father started, with exclamations of surprise +and alarm, from the table. Mr. Leland seized his hat and cane, and +rushing from the house, ran at full speed toward the place which +Clement had appointed for a meeting with his daughter. He arrived in +time to see a lady hastily enter a carriage, followed by a man. The +carriage drove off rapidly. A cab was passing near him at the time, +to the driver of which he called in an excited voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you see that carriage?" Mr. Leland said eagerly, as the man +reined up his horse. "Keep within sight of it until it stops, and I +will give you ten dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"Jump in," returned the driver. "I'll keep in sight." +</P> + +<P> +For nearly a quarter of an hour the wheels of the cab rattled in the +ears of Mr. Leland. It then stopped, and the anxious father sprang +out upon the pavement. The carriage had drawn up a little in +advance, and a lady was descending from it, assisted by a man. Mr. +Leland knew the form of his daughter. Ere the young lady and her +attendant could cross the pavement, he had confronted them. Angry +beyond the power of control, he seized the arm of Jane with one +hand, and, as he drew away from her companion, knocked him down with +a tremendous blow from the cane which he held in the other. Then +dragging, or rather carrying, his frightened daughter to the cab, +thrust her in, and, as he followed after, gave the driver the +direction of his house, and ordered him to go there at the quickest +speed. Jane either was, or affected to be, unconscious, when she +arrived at home. +</P> + +<P> +Two days after, this paragraph appeared in one of the daily papers. +</P> + +<P> +"SAVED FROM THE BRINK OF RUIN.—A young man of notoriously bad +character, yet connected with one of our first families, recently +attempted to draw aside from virtue an innocent but thoughtless and +unsuspecting girl, the daughter of a respectable citizen. He +appointed a meeting with her in the street at night, and she was mad +enough to join him at the hour mentioned. Fortunately it happened +that the father, by some means, received intelligence of what was +going on, and hurried to the place. He arrived in time to see them +enter a carriage and drive off. He followed in another carriage, and +when they stopped before a house, well known to be one of evil +repute, he confronted them on the pavement, knocked the young +villain down, and carried his daughter off home. We forbear to +mention names, as it would do harm, rather than good, the young lady +being innocent of any evil intent, and unsuspicious of wrong in her +companion. We hope it will prove a lesson that she will never +forget. She made a most fortunate escape." +</P> + +<P> +When Jane Leland was shown this paragraph, she shuddered and turned +pale; and the shudder went deeper, and her cheek became still paler, +a few weeks later when the sad intelligence came that Mary Halloran +had fallen into the same snare that had been laid for her feet; a +willing victim too many believed, for she was not ignorant of +Clement's real character. +</P> + +<P> +By sad experience Mrs. Leland was taught the folly of any weak +departure from what is clearly seen to be a right course of action; +and she understood, better than she had ever done before, the +oft-repeated remark of her husband that "only those whose principles +and conduct we approve are to be considered, in any true sense, +neighbors." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="home"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +NOT AT HOME. +</H3> + +<P> +JONAS BEBEE has one merit, if he possesses no other, and that is, +the merit of being able to make himself completely at home with all +his friends, male or female, high or low, rich or poor, under any +and all circumstances. His good opinion of himself leaves no room +for his imagination to conceive the idea, that possibly there may +be, in his character, certain peculiarities not agreeable to all. It +never occurs to him, that he may chance to make a <I>mal apropos</I> +visit, nor that the prolongation of a call may be a serious +annoyance; for he is so entirely satisfied with himself that he is +sure every one else must feel his presence as a kind of sunshine. +</P> + +<P> +Of course, such being the character of Mr. Jonas Bebee, it may +readily be inferred that he is very likely to commit an occasional +mistake, and blunder, though unconsciously, into the commission of +acts most terribly annoying to others. His evening calls upon ladies +generally produce a marked effect upon those specially selected for +the favor. The character of the effect will appear in the following +little scene, which we briefly sketch— +</P> + +<P> +"Gentleman in the parlor," says a servant coming into a room where +two or three young ladies sit sewing or reading. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is he?" is the natural inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Bebee." +</P> + +<P> +"Goodness!" +</P> + +<P> +"Say we are not at home, Kitty." +</P> + +<P> +"No—no, Kitty, you mustn't say that," interposes one. "Tell him the +ladies will be down in a little while." +</P> + +<P> +Kitty accordingly retires. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not going down," says one, more self willed and independent +than the rest. +</P> + +<P> +"You've as much right to be annoyed with him as we have," is replied +to this. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish he'd stay away from here. Nobody wants him." +</P> + +<P> +"He's after you, Aggy." +</P> + +<P> +"After me!" replied Agnes. "Goodness knows I don't want him. I hate +the very sight of him!" +</P> + +<P> +"It's no use fretting ourselves over the annoyance, we've got to +endure it," says one of the young ladies. "So, come, let's put on +the best face possible." +</P> + +<P> +"You can go, Cara, if you choose, but I'm in no hurry; nor will he +be in any haste to go. Say to him that I'll be along in the course +of half an hour." +</P> + +<P> +"No, you must all make your own apologies." +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime Mr. Bebee patiently awaits the arrival of the +ladies, who make their appearance, one after the other, some time +during the next half hour. He compliments them, asks them to sing +and play, and leads the conversation until towards eleven o'clock, +when he retires in the best possible humor with himself and the +interesting young ladies favored with his presence. He has not even +a distant suspicion of the real truth, that his visit was considered +an almost unendurable infliction. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Bebee's morning calls are often more unwelcome. He walks in, as +a matter of course, takes his seat in the parlor, and sends up his +name by the servant. If told that the lady is not at home, a +suspicion that it may not be so does not cross his mind; for he +cannot imagine it possible that any one would make such an excuse in +order to avoid seeing <I>him</I>. Should the lady not be willing to utter +an untruth, nor feel independent enough to send word that she is +engaged, an hour's waste of time, at least, must be her penalty; for +Mr. Bebee's morning calls are never of shorter duration. He knows, +as well as any one, that visits of politeness should be brief; but +he is on such familiar terms with all his friends, that he can waive +all ceremony—and he generally does so, making himself "at home," as +he says, wherever he goes. +</P> + +<P> +One day Mr. Jonas Bebee recollected that he had not called upon a +certain Mrs. Fairview, for some weeks; and as the lady was, like +most of his acquaintances, a particular friend, he felt that he was +neglecting her. So he started forth to make her a call. +</P> + +<P> +It was Saturday, and Mrs. Fairview, after having been, for the +greater part of the morning, in the kitchen making cake, came up to +the parlor to dust and re-arrange some of the articles there a +little more to her liking. Her hair was in papers, and her morning +wrapper not in a very elegant condition, having suffered a little +during the cake-making process. It was twelve o'clock, and Mrs. +Fairview was about leaving the parlor, when some one rung the bell. +Gliding noiselessly to the window, she obtained a view of Mr. Bebee. +</P> + +<P> +"O, dear!" she sighed, "am I to have this infliction to-day? But +it's no use; I won't see him!" +</P> + +<P> +By this time the servant was moving along the passage towards the +door. +</P> + +<P> +"Hannah!" called the lady, in a whisper, beckoning at the same time +with her hand. +</P> + +<P> +Hannah came into the parlor. +</P> + +<P> +"Say I'm not at home, Hannah." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ma'am," replied the girl, who proceeded on towards the street +door, while Mrs. Fairview remained in the parlor. +</P> + +<P> +"Is Mrs. Fairview in?" the latter heard the visitor ask. +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir," replied Hannah. +</P> + +<P> +"Not in?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir. She's gone out." +</P> + +<P> +By this time Mr. Bebee stood within the vestibule. +</P> + +<P> +"O, well; I reckon I'll just drop in and wait awhile. No doubt +she'll be home, soon." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think she will return before two o'clock," said Hannah, +knowing that her mistress, looking more like a scarecrow than a +genteel lady, was still in the parlor, and seeing that the visiter +was disposed to pass her by and make himself a temporary occupant of +the same room. +</P> + +<P> +"No matter," returned the gentleman, "I'll just step in for a little +while and enjoy myself by the parlor fire. It's a bitter cold +day—perhaps she will be home sooner." +</P> + +<P> +"O, no, sir. She told me that she would not come back until +dinner-time," said the anxious Hannah, who fully appreciated the +dilemma in which her mistress would find herself, should Mr. Bebee +make his way into the parlor. +</P> + +<P> +"It's no consequence. You can just say to her, if she does not +return while I am here, that I called and made myself at home for +half an hour or so." And with this, Mr. Bebee passed by the girl, +and made his way towards the parlor. +</P> + +<P> +In despair, Hannah ran back to her place in the kitchen, wondering +what her mistress would say or do when Mr. Bebee found that she was +at home—and, moreover, in such a plight! +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime, Mrs. Fairview, who had been eagerly listening to +what passed between Hannah and the visiter, finding that he was +about invading her parlor, and seeing no way of escape, retreated +into a little room, or office, built off from and communicating only +with the parlor. As she entered this room and shut the door, the +cold air penetrated her garments and sent a chill through her frame. +There was no carpet on the floor of this little box of a place, and +it contained neither sofa, chair, nor anything else to sit upon. +Moreover, it had but a single door, and that one led into the +parlor. Escape, therefore, was cut off, entirely; and to remain long +where she was could not be done except at the risk of taking a +severe cold. +</P> + +<P> +Through the openings in a Venitian blind that was hung against the +glass door, Mrs. Fairview saw the self-satisfied Mr. Bebee draw up +the large cushioned chair before the grate, and with a book in his +hand, seat himself comfortably and begin to make himself entirely +"at home." The prospect was, that he would thus remain "at home," +for at least the next half hour, if not longer. What was she to do? +The thermometer was almost down to zero, and she was dressed for a +temperature of seventy. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall catch my death a cold," she sighed, as the chilly air +penetrated her garments, and sent a shudder through her frame. +</P> + +<P> +Comfortably, and as much at home as if he were in his own parlor, +sat Mr. Bebee in front of the roaring grate, rocking himself in the +great arm-chair, and enjoying a new book which he had found upon the +table. +</P> + +<P> +As Mrs. Fairview looked at him, and saw the complete repose and +satisfaction of his manner, she began to feel in utter despair. +Already her teeth were beginning to chatter, and she was shivering +as if attacked by a fit of ague. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes +elapsed—but there sat the visiter, deeply absorbed in his book; and +there stood the unfortunate lady who was "not at home," so benumbed +with cold as almost to have lost the sense of bodily feeling. A +certain feeling in the throat warned her that she was taking cold, +and would, in all probability, suffer from inflammation of the +windpipe and chest. Five, ten, fifteen minutes more went by; but Mr. +Beebe did not move from his place. He was far too comfortable to +think of that. +</P> + +<P> +At last after remaining in prison for nearly an hour, Mrs. Fairview, +who by this time was beginning to suffer, besides excessive fatigue, +from a sharp pain through her breast to her left shoulder blade, and +who was painfully aware that she had taken a cold that would, in all +probability, put her in bed for a week, determined to make her +escape at all hazards. Mr. Beebe showed no disposition to go, and +might remain for an hour longer. Throwing an apron over her head and +face, she softly opened the door, and gliding past her visiter, +escaped into the hall, and ran panting up stairs. Mr. Beebe raised +his head at this unexpected invasion of the parlor, but on +reflection concluded that the person who so suddenly appeared and +disappeared was merely a servant in the family. +</P> + +<P> +About an hour afterwards, finding that Mrs. Fairview did not return, +Mr. Beebe left his card on the table, and departed in his usual +comfortable state of mind. +</P> + +<P> +Poor Mrs. Fairview paid dearly for her part in this transaction. A +severe attack of inflammation of the lungs followed, which came near +resulting in death. It was nearly three weeks before she was able to +leave her room, and then her physician said she must not venture out +before the mild weather of the opening spring. +</P> + +<P> +A few days after the lady was able to go about the house again, Mr. +Bebee called to congratulate her on her recovery. Two of her +children were in the parlor; one eleven years old, and the other a +child in her fourth year. +</P> + +<P> +"O, you naughty man, you!" exclaimed the latter, the moment she saw +Mr. Bebee. The oldest of the two children, who understood in a +moment what her little sister meant, whispered: "H-u-s-h!—h-u-s-h! +Mary!" +</P> + +<P> +"What am I naughty about, my little sis?" said Mr. Bebee. +</P> + +<P> +"O, because you are a naughty man! You made my mother sick, so you +did! And mother says she never wants to look in your face again. You +are a naughty man!" +</P> + +<P> +"Mary! Mary! Hush! hush!" exclaimed the elder sister, trying to stop +the child. +</P> + +<P> +"Made your mother sick?" said Mr. Bebee. "How did I do that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, you shut her up in that little room there, all in the cold, +when you were here and staid so long, one day. And it made her +sick—so it did." +</P> + +<P> +"Shut her up in that room! what does the child mean?" said Mr. +Bebee, speaking to the elder sister. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary! Mary! I'm ashamed of you. Come away!" was the only response +made to this. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Bebee was puzzled. He asked himself as to the meaning of this +strange language. All at once, he remembered that after he had been +sitting in the parlor for an hour, on the occasion referred to, some +one had come out of the little room referred to by the child, and +swept past him almost as quick as a flash. But it had never once +occurred to him that this was the lady he had called to visit, who, +according to the servant, was not at home. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't shut your mother up in that room, Mary," said he, to the +child. +</P> + +<P> +"O, but you did. And she got cold, and almost died." +</P> + +<P> +At this the elder sister, finding that she could do nothing with +little Mary, escaped from the parlor, and running up stairs, made a +report to her mother of what was going on below. +</P> + +<P> +"Mercy!" exclaimed the lady, in painful surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"She told him that you said you never wanted to look upon his face +again," said the little girl. +</P> + +<P> +"She did!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. And she is telling him a great deal more. I tried my best to +make her stop, but couldn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Rachel! Go down and bring that child out of the parlor!" said Mrs. +Fairview, to a servant. "It is too bad! I had no idea that the +little witch knew anything about it. So much for talking before +children!" +</P> + +<P> +"And so much for not being at home when you are," remarked a sister +of Mrs. Fairview, who happened to be present. +</P> + +<P> +"So much for having an acquaintance who makes himself at home in +your house, whether you want him or not." +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt you are both sufficiently well punished." +</P> + +<P> +"I have been, I know." +</P> + +<P> +The heavy jar of the street door was heard at this moment. +</P> + +<P> +"He's gone, I do believe!" +</P> + +<P> +And so it proved. What else little Mary said to him was never known, +as the violent scolding she received when her mother got hold of +her, sealed her lips on the subject, or drove all impressions +relating thereto from her memory. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Bebee never called again. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="error"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FATAL ERROR. +</H3> + +<P> +"CLINTON!" said Margaret Hubert, with a look of supreme contempt. +"Don't speak of him to me, Lizzy. His very name is an offence to my +ears!" and the lady's whole manner became disturbed. +</P> + +<P> +"He will be at the ball to-night, of course, and will renew his +attentions," said the friend, in an earnest, yet quiet voice. "Now, +for all your expressions of dislike, I have thought that you were +really far from being indifferent to Mr. Clinton, and affected a +repugnance at variance with your true feelings." +</P> + +<P> +"Lizzy, you will offend me if you make use of such language. I tell +you he is hateful to me," replied Miss Hubert. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, you ought to know your own state of mind best," said +Lizzy Edgar. "If it is really as you say, I must confess that my +observation has not been accurate. As to there being anything in Mr. +Clinton to inspire an emotion of contempt, or create so strong a +dislike as you express, I have yet to see it. To me he has ever +appeared in the light of a gentleman." +</P> + +<P> +"Then suppose you make yourself agreeable to him, Lizzy," said Miss +Hubert. +</P> + +<P> +"I try to make myself agreeable to every one," replied the +even-minded girl. "That is a duty I owe to those with whom I +associate." +</P> + +<P> +"Whether you like them or not?" +</P> + +<P> +"It doesn't follow, because I do not happen to like a person, that I +should render myself disagreeable to him." +</P> + +<P> +"I never tolerate people that I don't like," said Miss Hubert. +</P> + +<P> +"We needn't associate too intimately with those who are disagreeable +to us," returned her friend; "but when we are thrown together in +society, the least we can do is to be civil." +</P> + +<P> +"You may be able to disguise your real feelings, but I cannot. +Whatever emotion passes over my mind is seen in my face and +discovered in my tone of voice. All who know me see me as I am." +</P> + +<P> +And yet, notwithstanding this affirmation, Margaret Hubert did not, +at all times, display her real feelings. And her friend Lizzy Edgar +was right in assuming that she was by no means indifferent to Mr. +Clinton. The appearance of dislike was assumed as a mask, and the +distance and reserve she displayed towards him were the offspring of +a false pride and unwomanly self-esteem. The truth was, her heart +had, almost unsought, been won. The manly bearing, personal grace +and brilliant mind of Philip Clinton, had captivated her feelings +and awakened an emotion of love ere she was conscious that her heart +was in danger. And she had even leaned towards him instinctively, +and so apparently that the young man observed it, and was attracted +thereby. The moment, however, he became at all marked in his +attentions, the whole manner of Margaret changed. She was then aware +of the rashness she had displayed, and her pride instantly took the +alarm. Reserve, dignity, and even hauteur, characterized her bearing +towards Clinton; and to those who spoke of him as a lover, she +replied in terms nearly similar to what she used to her friend Lizzy +Edgar, on the occasion to which reference has just been made. +</P> + +<P> +All this evidenced weakness of mind as well as pride. She wished to +be sought before she was won—at least, that was the language she +used to herself. Her lover must come, like a knight of old, and sue +on bended knee for favor. +</P> + +<P> +Clinton observed the marked change in her manner. Fortunately for +his peace of mind, he was not so deeply in love as to be very +seriously distressed. He had admired her beauty, her +accomplishments, and the winning grace of her manners; and more, had +felt his heart beginning to warm towards her. But the charm with +which she had been invested, faded away the moment the change of +which we have spoken became apparent. He was not a man of strong, +ungovernable impulses; all his passions were under the control of +right reason, and this gave him a clear judgment. Consequently, he +was the last person in the world for an experiment such as Margaret +Hubert was making. At first he thought there must be some mistake, +and continued to offer the young lady polite attentions, coldly and +distantly as they were received. He even went farther than his real +feelings bore him out in going, and made particular advances, in +order to be perfectly satisfied that there was no mistake about her +dislike or repugnance. +</P> + +<P> +But there was one thing which at first Clinton did not understand. +It was this. Frequently, when in company where Margaret was present, +he would, if he turned his eyes suddenly upon her, find that she was +looking at him with an expression which told him plainly that he was +not indifferent to her. This occurred so often, and was so +frequently attended with evident confusion on her part, that he +began to have a suspicion of the real truth, and to feel disgust at +so marked an exhibition of insincerity. Besides, the thought of +being experimented upon in this way, did not in the least tend to +soften his feelings towards the fair one. He believed in frankness, +honesty and reciprocal sincerity. He liked a truthful, ingenuous +mind, and turned instinctively from all artifice, coquetry or +affectation. +</P> + +<P> +The game which Miss Hubert was playing had been in progress only a +short time, when her friend Lizzy Edgar, who was on terms of close +intimacy, spent the day with her, occupying most of the time in +preparation for a fancy ball that was to come off that night. The +two young ladies attired themselves with much care, each with a view +to effect. Margaret looked particularly to the assumption of a +certain dignity, and her costume for the evening had been chosen +with that end in view. A ruff, and her grand-mother's rich silk +brocade, did give to her tall person all the dignity she could have +desired. +</P> + +<P> +At the proper time the father of Miss Hubert accompanied the young +ladies to the ball, preparations for which had for some time been in +progress. As soon almost as Margaret entered the room, her eyes +began to wander about in search of Mr. Clinton. It was not long +before she discovered him—nor long before his eyes rested upon and +recognized her stately figure. +</P> + +<P> +"If she be playing a part, as I more than half suspect," said the +young man to himself, "her performance will end to-night, so far as +I am concerned." +</P> + +<P> +And with the remark, he moved towards that part of the room where +the two young ladies were standing. Lizzy returned his salutations +with a frank and easy grace, but Margaret drew herself up coldly, +and replied to his remarks with brief formality. Clinton remained +with them only long enough to pass a few compliments, and then moved +away and mingled with the crowd in another part of the large saloon, +where the gay company were assembled. During the next hour, he took +occasion now and then to search out Margaret in the crowd, and more +than once he found that her eyes were upon him. +</P> + +<P> +"Once more," he said, crossing the room and going up to where she +was leaning upon the arm of an acquaintance. +</P> + +<P> +"May I have the pleasure of dancing with you in the next set?" +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, sir," replied Margaret, with unbending dignity; "I am +already engaged." +</P> + +<P> +Clinton bowed and turned away. The fate of the maiden was sealed. +She had carried her experiment too far. As the young man moved +across the room, he saw Lizzy Edgar sitting alone, her face lit up +with interest as she noted the various costumes, and observed the +ever-forming and dissolving tableaux that filled the saloon, and +presented to the eye a living kaleidoscope. +</P> + +<P> +"Alone," he said, pausing before the warm-hearted, even tempered +girl. +</P> + +<P> +"One cannot be alone here," she replied, with a sweet smile +irradiating her countenance. "What a fairy scene it is," she added, +as her eyes wandered from the face of Clinton and again fell upon +the brilliant groups around them. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you danced this evening?" asked Clinton. +</P> + +<P> +"In one set," answered Lizzy. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you engaged for the next in which you may feel disposed to take +the floor?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Then may I claim you for my partner?" +</P> + +<P> +"If it is your pleasure to do so," replied Lizzy, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +In a cotillion formed soon afterward in that part of the room, were +Margaret Hubert and her sweet friend Lizzy Edgar. Margaret had a +warmer color on her cheeks than usual, and her dignity towered up +into an air of haughtiness, all of which Clinton observed. Its +effect was to make his heart cold towards her, instead of awakening +an ardent desire to win a proud and distant beauty. +</P> + +<P> +In vain did Margaret look for the young man to press forward, the +moment the cotillion was dissolved, and claim her for the next. He +lingered by the side of Miss Edgar, more charmed with her than he +had ever been, until some one else came and engaged the hand of Miss +Hubert. The disappointed and unhappy girl now unbent herself from +the cold dignity that had marked her bearing since her entrance into +the ball-room, and sought to win him to her side by the flashing +brilliancy of her manners; but her efforts were unavailing. Clinton +had felt the sweeter, purer, stronger attractions of one free from +all artifice; and when he left her side, he had no wish to pass to +that of one whose coldness had repelled, and whose haughtiness had +insulted him. +</P> + +<P> +On the next day, when Lizzy called upon her friend, she found her in +a very unhappy state of mind. As to the ball and the people who +attended, she was exceedingly captious in all her remarks. When +Clinton was mentioned, she spoke of him with a sneer. Lizzy hardly +knew how to take her. Why the young man should be so offensive, she +was at a loss to imagine, and honestly came to the conclusion that +she had been mistaken in her previous supposition that Margaret +really felt an interest in him. +</P> + +<P> +A few evenings only elapsed before Clinton called upon Miss Edgar, +and from that time visited her regularly. An offer of marriage was +the final result. This offer Lizzy accepted. +</P> + +<P> +The five or six months that elapsed from the time Clinton became +particular in his attentions to Miss Edgar, until he formally +declared himself a lover, passed with Margaret Herbert in one +long-continued and wild struggle with her feelings. Conscious of her +error, and madly conscious, because conviction had come too late, +she wrestled vigorously, but in vain, with a passion that, but for +her own folly, would have met a free and full return. Lizzy spoke to +her of Clinton's marked attentions, but did not know how, like heavy +and painful strokes, every word she uttered fell upon her heart. She +saw that Margaret was far from being happy, and often tenderly urged +her to tell the cause, but little dreamed of the real nature of her +sufferings. +</P> + +<P> +At last Lizzy told her, with a glowing cheek, that Clinton had owned +his love for her, and claimed her hand in marriage. For some moments +after this communication was made, Margaret could offer no reply. +Her heart trembled faintly in her bosom and almost ceased to beat; +but she rallied herself, and concealed what she felt under warm +congratulations. Lizzy was deceived, though in her friend's manner +there was something that she could not fully comprehend. +</P> + +<P> +"You must be my bridesmaid," said the happy girl, a month or two +afterwards. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not choose some one else?" asked Margaret. +</P> + +<P> +"Because I love you better than any friend I have," replied Lizzy, +putting an arm around the neck of Margaret and kissing her. +</P> + +<P> +"No, no; I cannot—I cannot!" was the unexpressed thought of +Margaret—while something like a shudder went over her. But the eyes +of her friend did not penetrate the sad secret of her heart. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, dear, say yes. Why do you hesitate? I would hardly believe +myself married if you were not by my side when the nuptial pledge +was given." +</P> + +<P> +"It shall be as you wish," replied Margaret. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you misunderstood me," said Lizzy, playfully; "I was not +speaking of my funeral, but of my wedding." +</P> + +<P> +This sportive sally gave Margaret an opportunity to recover herself, +which she did promptly; and never once, from that time until the +wedding day of her friend arrived, did she by look or word betray +what was in her heart. +</P> + +<P> +Intense was the struggle that went on in the mind of Margaret +Hubert. But it was of no avail; she loved Clinton with a wild +intensity that was only the more fervid from its hopelessness. But +pride and a determined will concealed what neither could destroy. +</P> + +<P> +At last the wedding night of Lizzy Edgar arrived, and a large +company assembled to witness the holy rite that was to be performed, +and to celebrate the occasion with appropriate festivities. +Margaret, when the morning of that day broke coldly and drearily +upon her, felt so sad at heart that she wept, and, weeping, wished +that she could die. There had been full time for reflection since, +by her own acts, she had repulsed one in whom her heart felt a deep +interest, and repulsed him with such imprudent force that he never +returned to her again. Suffering had chastened her spirit, although +it could not still the throbbings of pain. As the time approached +when she must stand beside her friend and listen to vows of +perpetual love that she would have given all the world, were it in +her possession, to hear as her own, she felt that she was about +entering upon a trial for which her strength would be little more +than adequate. +</P> + +<P> +But there was no retreat now. The ordeal had to be passed through. +At last the time of trial came, and she descended with her friend, +and stood up with her before the minister of God, who was to say the +fitting words and receive the solemn vows required in the marriage +covenant. From the time Margaret took her place on the floor, she +felt her power over herself failing. Most earnestly did she struggle +for calmness and self-control, but the very fear that inspired this +struggle made it ineffectual. When the minister in a deeply +impressive voice, said, "I pronounce you husband and wife," her eyes +grew dim, and her limbs trembled and failed; she sunk forward, and +was only kept from falling by the arm of the minister, which was +extended in time to save her. +</P> + +<P> +Twenty years have passed since that unhappy evening, and Margaret +Hubert is yet unmarried. It was long before she could quench the +fire that had burned so fiercely in her heart. When it did go out, +the desolate hearth it left remained ever after cold and dark. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="fashions"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FOLLOWING THE FASHIONS. +</H3> + +<P> +"WHAT is this?" asked Henry Grove of his sister Mary, lifting, as he +spoke, a print from the centre-table. +</P> + +<P> +"A fashion plate," was the quiet reply. +</P> + +<P> +"A fashion plate? What in the name of wonder, are you doing with a +fashion plate?" +</P> + +<P> +"To see what the fashions are." +</P> + +<P> +"And what then?" +</P> + +<P> +"To follow them, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"Mary, is it possible you are so weak? I thought better of my +sister." +</P> + +<P> +"Explain yourself, Mr. Censor," replied Mary with an arch look, and +a manner perfectly self-possessed. +</P> + +<P> +"There is nothing I despise so much as a heartless woman of +fashion." +</P> + +<P> +"Such an individual is certainly, not much to be admired, Henry. But +there is a vast difference you must recollect, between a lady who +regards the prevailing mode of dress and a <I>heartless</I> woman, be she +attired in the latest style, or in the costume of the times of good +queen Bess. A fashionably dressed woman need not, of necessity, be +heartless." +</P> + +<P> +"O no, of course not; nor did I mean to say so. But it is very +certain, to my mind, that any one who follows the fashions cannot be +very sound in the head. And where there is not much head, it seems +to me there is never a superabundance of heart." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite a philosopher!" +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't try to beat me off by ridicule, Mary. I am in earnest." +</P> + +<P> +"What about?" +</P> + +<P> +"In condemning this blind slavery to fashion." +</P> + +<P> +"You follow the fashions." +</P> + +<P> +"No, Mary, I do not." +</P> + +<P> +"Your looks very much belie you, then." +</P> + +<P> +"Mary!" +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense! Don't look so grave. What I say is true. You follow the +fashion as much as I do." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sure I never examined a plate of fashions in my life." +</P> + +<P> +"If you have not, your tailor has for you, many a time." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe a word of it. I don't have my clothes cut in the +height of the fashion. They are made plain and comfortable. There is +nothing about them that is put on merely because it is fashionable." +</P> + +<P> +"I beg your pardon, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"It is a fact." +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you have your lappels made to roll three button-holes +instead of two. There's father's old coat, made, I don't know when, +that roll but two." +</P> + +<P> +"Because, I suppose, its now the fash—" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, exactly! Didn't I get you there nicely?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, but Mary, that's the tailor's business, not mine." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course,—you trust to him to make you clothes according to the +fashion, while I choose to see if the fashions are just such as +suits my stature, shape, and complexion, that I may adopt them +fully, or deviate from them in a just and rational manner. So there +is this difference between us; you follow the fashions blindly, and +I with judgment and discrimination!" +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed, Mary, you are too bad." +</P> + +<P> +"Do I speak anything but the truth?" +</P> + +<P> +"I should be very sorry, indeed, if your deductions were true in +regard to my following the fashions so blindly, if indeed at all." +</P> + +<P> +"But don't you follow them?" +</P> + +<P> +"I never think about them." +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't, somehow or other, you manage to be always about even +with the prevailing modes. I don't see any difference between your +dress and that of other young men." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care a fig for the fashions, Mary!" rejoined Henry, +speaking with some warmth. +</P> + +<P> +"So you say." +</P> + +<P> +"And so I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why do you wear fashionable clothes?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't wear fashionable clothes—that is—I——" +</P> + +<P> +"You have figured silk or cut velvet buttons, on your coat, I +believe. Let me see? Yes. Now, lasting buttons are more durable, and +I remember very well when you wore them. But they are out of +fashion! And here is your collar turned down over your black satin +stock, (where, by the by, have all the white cravats gone, that were +a few years ago so fashionable?) as smooth as a puritan's! Don't you +remember how much trouble you used to have, sometimes, to get your +collar to stand up just so? Ah, brother, you are an incorrigible +follower of the fashions!" +</P> + +<P> +"But, Mary, it is a great deal less trouble to turn the collar over +the stock." +</P> + +<P> +"I know it is, now that it is fashionable to do so." +</P> + +<P> +"It is, though, in fact." +</P> + +<P> +"Really?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, really." +</P> + +<P> +"But when it was fashionable to have the collar standing, you were +very willing to take the trouble." +</P> + +<P> +"You would not have me affect singularity, sister?" +</P> + +<P> +"Me? No, indeed! I would have you continue to follow the fashions as +you are now doing. I would have you dress like other people. And +there is one other thing that I would like to see in you." +</P> + +<P> +"What is that." +</P> + +<P> +"I would like to see you willing to allow me the same privilege." +</P> + +<P> +"You have managed your case so ingeniously, Mary," her brother now +said, "as to have beaten me in argument, though I am very sure that +I am right, and you in error, in regard to the general principle. I +hold it to be morally wrong to follow the fashions. They are +unreasonable and arbitrary in their requirements, and it is a +species of miserable folly, to be led about by them. I have +conversed a good deal with old aunt Abigail on the subject, and she +perfectly agrees with me. Her opinions, you can not, of course, +treat with indifference?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, not my aunt's. But for all that, I do not think that either she +or uncle Absalom is perfectly orthodox on all matters." +</P> + +<P> +"I think that they can both prove to you beyond a doubt that it is a +most egregious folly to be ever changing with the fashions." +</P> + +<P> +"And I think that I can prove to them that they are not at all +uninfluenced by the fickle goddess." +</P> + +<P> +"Do so, and I will give up the point. Do so and I will avow myself +an advocate of fashion." +</P> + +<P> +"As you are now in fact. But I accept your challenge, even though +the odds of age and numbers are against me. I am very much mistaken, +indeed, if I cannot maintain my side of the argument, at least to my +own satisfaction." +</P> + +<P> +"You may do that probably; but certainly not to ours." +</P> + +<P> +"We will see," was the laughing reply. +</P> + +<P> +It was a few evenings after, that Henry Grove and his sister called +in to see uncle Absalom and aunt Abigail, who were of the old +school, and rather ultra-puritanical in their habits and notions. +Mary could not but feel, as she came into their presence, that it +would be rowing against wind and tide to maintain her point with +them—confirmed as they were in their own views of things, and with +the respect due to age to give weight to their opinions. +Nevertheless, she determined resolutely to maintain her own side of +the question, and to use all the weapons, offensive and defensive, +that came to her hand. She was a light-hearted girl, with a high +flow of spirits, and a quick and discriminating mind. All these were +in her favor. The contest was not long delayed, for Henry, feeling +that he had powerful auxiliaries on his side, was eager to see his +own positions triumph, as he was sure that they must. The welcome +words that greeted their entrance had not long been said, before he +asked, turning to his aunt,— +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think I found on Mary's table, the other day, Aunt +Abigail?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know, Henry. What was it?" +</P> + +<P> +"You will be surprised to hear,—a fashion plate! And that is not +all. By her own confession, she was studying it in order to conform +to the prevailing style of dress. Hadn't you a better opinion of +her?" +</P> + +<P> +"I certainly had," was aunt Abigail's half smiling, half grave +reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, what harm is there in following the fashions, aunt?" Mary +asked. +</P> + +<P> +"A great deal, my dear. It is following after the vanities of this +life. The apostle tells us not to be conformed to this world." +</P> + +<P> +"I know he does; but what has that to do with the fashions? He +doesn't say that you shall not wear fashionable garments; at least I +never saw the passage." +</P> + +<P> +"But that is clearly what he means, Mary." +</P> + +<P> +"I doubt it. Let us hear what he further says; perhaps that will +guide us to a truer meaning?" +</P> + +<P> +"He says: 'But be ye transformed by the renewing of your minds.' +That elucidates and gives force to what goes before." +</P> + +<P> +"So I think, clearly upsetting your position. The apostle evidently +has reference to a deeper work than mere <I>external</I> non-conformity +in regard to the cut of the coat, or the fashion of the dress. Be ye +not conformed to this world in its selfish, principles and +maxims—be ye not as the world, lovers of self more than lovers of +God—but be ye transformed by the renewing of your minds. That is +the way I understand him." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you understand him wrong, Mary," uncle Absalom spoke up. "If +he had meant that, he would have said it in plain terms." +</P> + +<P> +"And so he has, it seems to me. But I am not disposed to excuse my +adherence to fashion upon any passage that allows of two +interpretations. I argue for it upon rational grounds." +</P> + +<P> +"Fashion and rationality! The idea is absurd, Mary!" said uncle +Absalom, with warmth. "They are antipodes." +</P> + +<P> +"Not by any means, uncle, and I think I can make it plain to you." +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Absalom shook his head, and aunt Abigail fidgeted in her +chair. +</P> + +<P> +"You remember the celebrated John Wesley—the founder of that once +unfashionable people, the Methodists?" Mary asked. +</P> + +<P> +"O, yes." +</P> + +<P> +"What would you think if I proved to you that he was an advocate for +fashion upon rational principles?" +</P> + +<P> +"You can't do it." +</P> + +<P> +"I can. On one occasion, it is related of him, that he called upon a +tailor to make him a coat. 'How will you have it made?' asked the +tailor. 'O, make it like other people's,' was the reply. 'Will you +have the sleeves in the new fashion?' 'I don't know, what is it?' +'They have been made very tight, you know, for some time,' the +tailor said, 'but the newest fashion is loose sleeves.' 'Loose +sleeves, ah? Well, they will be a great deal more comfortable than +these. Make mine loose.' What do you think of that, uncle? Do you +see no rationality there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but Mary," replied aunt Abigail, "fashion and comfort hardly +ever go together." +</P> + +<P> +"There you are mistaken, aunt. Most fashionable dress-makers aim at +producing garments comfortable to the wearers; and those fashions +which are most comfortable, are most readily adopted by the largest +numbers." +</P> + +<P> +"You certainly do not pretend to say, Mary," Henry interposed, "that +all changes in fashions are improvements in comfort?" +</P> + +<P> +"O no, certainly not. Many, nay, most of the changes are unimportant +in that respect." +</P> + +<P> +"And are the inventions and whims of fashion makers," added aunt +Abigail with warmth. +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt of it," Mary readily admitted. +</P> + +<P> +"And you are such a weak, foolish girl, as to adopt, eagerly, every +trifling variation in fashion?" continued aunt Abigail. +</P> + +<P> +"No, not eagerly, aunt." +</P> + +<P> +"But at all?" +</P> + +<P> +"I adopt a great many, certainly, for no other reason than because +they are fashionable." +</P> + +<P> +"For shame, Mary, to make such an admission! I really thought better +of you." +</P> + +<P> +"But don't you follow the fashions, aunt?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why Mary," exclaimed both uncle Absalom and her brother, at once. +</P> + +<P> +"Me follow the fashions, Mary?" broke in aunt Abigail, as soon as +she could recover her breath, for the question struck her almost +speechless. "Me follow the fashions? Why, what can the girl mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"I asked the question," said Mary. "And if you can't answer it, I +can." +</P> + +<P> +"And how will you answer it, pray?" +</P> + +<P> +"In the affirmative, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"You are trifling, now, Mary," said uncle Absalom, gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed I am not, uncle. I can prove to her satisfaction and yours, +too, that aunt Abigail is almost as much a follower of the fashions +as I am." +</P> + +<P> +"For shame, child!" +</P> + +<P> +"I can though, uncle; so prepare yourself to be convinced. Did you +never see aunt wear a different shaped cap from the one she now has +on?" +</P> + +<P> +"O yes, I suppose so. I don't take much notice of such things. But I +believe she has changed the pattern of her cap a good many times." +</P> + +<P> +"And what if I have, pray?" asked aunt Abigail, fidgeting uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +"O, nothing, only that in doing so, you were following some new +fashion," replied Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"It is no such thing!" said aunt Abigail. +</P> + +<P> +"I can prove it." +</P> + +<P> +"You can't." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes I can, and I will. Don't you remember when the high crowns were +worn?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I do." +</P> + +<P> +"And you wore them, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suppose I did?" +</P> + +<P> +"And then came the close, low-crowned cap. I remember the very time +you adopted that fashion, and thought it so much more becoming than +the great tower of lace on the back part of the head." +</P> + +<P> +"And so it was." +</P> + +<P> +"But why didn't you think so before," asked Mary, looking archly +into the face of her aunt. +</P> + +<P> +"Why—because-because—" +</P> + +<P> +"O, I can tell you, so you needn't search all over the world for a +reason. It was because the high crowns were fashionable. Come out +plain and aboveboard and say so." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed, I won't say any such thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Then what was the reason?" +</P> + +<P> +"Every body wore them, and their unsightly appearance had not been +made apparent by contrast." +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly! They were fashionable. But when a new fashion laughed them +out of countenance, you cast them aside, as I do an old fashion for +a new one. Then came the quilled border all around. Do you remember +that change? and how, in a little while after, the plain piece of +lace over your forehead disappeared? Why was that, aunt Abigail? Was +there no regard for fashion there? And now, at this very time your +cap is one that exhibits the latest and neatest style for old +ladies' caps. I could go on and prove to your satisfaction, or at +least to my own, that you have followed the fashion almost as +steadily as I have. But I have sufficiently made out my case. Don't +you think so, Henry?" +</P> + +<P> +Thus appealed to, her brother, who had been surprised at the turn +the conversation had taken, not expecting to see Mary carry the war +home so directly as she had done, hardly knew how to reply. He, +however, gave a reluctant +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"But there is some sense in your aunt's adoption of fashion," said +uncle Absalom. +</P> + +<P> +"Though not much, it would seem in yours, if you estimate fashion by +use," retorted Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"What does the girl mean?" asked aunt Abigail in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Of what use, uncle, are those two buttons on the back of your +coat?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am sure I don't know." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why do you wear them if you don't know their use, unless it be +that you wish to be in the fashion? Then there are two more at the +bottom of the skirt, half hid, half seen, as if they were ashamed to +be found so much out of their place. Then, can you enlighten me as +to the use of these two pieces of cloth here, called, I believe, +flaps?" +</P> + +<P> +"To give strength to that part of the coat, I presume." +</P> + +<P> +"And yet it is only a year or two since it was the fashion to have +no flaps at all. I do not remember ever to have seen a coat torn +there, do you? It is no use, uncle—you might as well be out of the +world as out of the fashion. And old people feel this as well as +young. They have their fashions, and we have ours, and they are as +much the votaries of their peculiar modes as we are of our. The only +difference is, that, as our states of mind change more rapidly, +there is a corresponding and more rapid change in our fashions. You +change as well as we do—but slower." +</P> + +<P> +"How could you talk to uncle Absalom and aunt Abigail as you did?" +said Henry Grove to his sister, as they walked slowly home together. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't I make out my point? Didn't I prove that they too were +votaries of the fickle goddess?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think you did, in a measure." +</P> + +<P> +"And in a good measure too. So give up your point, as you promised, +and confess yourself an advocate of fashion." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see clearly how I can do that, notwithstanding all that has +passed to-night; for I do not rationally perceive the use of all +these changes in dress." +</P> + +<P> +"I am not certain that I can enlighten you fully on the subject; but +think that I may, perhaps in a degree, if you will allow my views +their proper weight in your mind." +</P> + +<P> +"I will try to do so; but shall not promise to be convinced." +</P> + +<P> +"No matter. Convinced or not convinced you will still be carried +along by the current. As to the primary cause of the change in +fashion it strikes me that it is one of the visible effects of that +process of change ever going on in the human mind. The fashion of +dress that prevails may not be the true exponent of the internal and +invisible states, because they must necessarily be modified in +various ways by the interests and false tastes of such individuals +as promulgate them. Still, this does not affect the primary cause." +</P> + +<P> +"Granting your position to be true, Mary, which I am not fully +prepared to admit or deny—why should we blindly follow these +fashions?" +</P> + +<P> +"We need not <I>blindly</I>. For my part, I am sure that I do not blindly +follow them." +</P> + +<P> +"You do when you adopt a fashion without thinking it becoming." +</P> + +<P> +"That I never do." +</P> + +<P> +"But, surely, you do not pretend to say that all fashions are +becoming?" +</P> + +<P> +"All that prevail to any extent, appear so, during the time of their +prevalence, unless they involve an improper exposure of the person, +or are injurious to health." +</P> + +<P> +"That is singular." +</P> + +<P> +"But is it not true." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps it is. But how do you account for it?" +</P> + +<P> +"On the principle that there are both external and internal causes +at work, modifying the mind's perceptions of the appropriate and +beautiful." +</P> + +<P> +"Mostly external, I should think, such as a desire to be in the +fashion, etc." +</P> + +<P> +"That feeling has its influence no doubt, and operates very +strongly." +</P> + +<P> +"But is it a right feeling?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is right or wrong, according to the end in view. If fashion be +followed from no higher view than a selfish love of being admired, +then the feeling is wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"Can we follow fashion with any other end?" +</P> + +<P> +"Answer the question yourself. You follow the fashions." +</P> + +<P> +"I think but little about them, Mary." +</P> + +<P> +"And yet you dress very much like people who do." +</P> + +<P> +"That may be so. The reason is, I do not wish to be singular." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"For this reason. A man who affects any singularity of dress or +manners, loses his true influence in society. People begin to think +that there must be within, a mind not truly balanced and therefore +do not suffer his opinions, no matter how sound, to have their true +weight." +</P> + +<P> +"A very strong and just argument why we should adopt prevailing +usages and fashions, if not immoral or injurious to health. They are +the badges by which we are known—diplomas which give to our +opinions their legitimate value. I could present this subject in +many other points of view. But it would be of little avail, if you +are determined not to be convinced." +</P> + +<P> +"I am not so determined, Mary. What you have already said, greatly +modifies my view of the subject. I shall, at least, not ridicule +your adherence to fashion, if I do not give much thought to it +myself." +</P> + +<P> +"I will present one more view. A right attention to dress looks to +the development of that which is appropriate and beautiful to the +eye. This is a universal benefit. For no one can look upon a truly +beautiful object in nature or art without having his mind +correspondingly elevated and impressed with beautiful images, and +these do not pass away like spectrums, but remain ever after more or +less distinct, bearing with them an elevating influence upon the +whole character. Changes in fashion, so far as they present new +and beautiful forms, new arrangements, and new and appropriate +combination of colors, are the dictates of a true taste, and so +far do they tend to benefit society." +</P> + +<P> +"But fashion is not always so directed by true taste." +</P> + +<P> +"A just remark. And likewise a reason why all who have a right +appreciation of the truly beautiful should give some attention to +the prevailing fashion in dress, and endeavor to correct errors, and +develop the true and the beautiful here as in other branches of +art." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="dollar"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A DOLLAR ON THE CONSCIENCE. +</H3> + +<P> +"FIFTY-FIVE cents a yard, I believe you said?" The customer was +opening her purse. +</P> + +<P> +Now fifty cents a yard was the price of the goods, and so Mr. +Levering had informed the lady. She misunderstood him, however. +</P> + +<P> +In the community, Mr. Levering had the reputation of being a +conscientious, high-minded man. He knew that he was thus estimated, +and self-complacently appropriated the good opinion as clearly his +due. +</P> + +<P> +It came instantly to the lip of Mr. Levering to say, "Yes, +fifty-five." The love of gain was strong in his mind, and ever ready +to accede to new plans for adding dollar to dollar. But, ere the +words were uttered, a disturbing perception of something wrong +restrained him. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish twenty yards," said the customer taking it for granted that +fifty-five cents was the price of the goods. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Levering was still silent; though he commenced promptly to +measure off the goods. +</P> + +<P> +"Not dear at that price," remarked the lady. +</P> + +<P> +"I think not," said the storekeeper. "I bought the case of goods +from which this piece was taken very low." +</P> + +<P> +"Twenty yards at fifty-five cents! Just eleven dollars." The +customer opened her purse as she thus spoke, and counted out the sum +in glittering gold dollars. "That is right, I believe," and she +pushed the money towards Mr. Levering, who, with a kind of automatic +movement of his hand, drew forward the coin and swept it into his +till. +</P> + +<P> +"Send the bundle to No. 300 Argyle Street," said the lady, with a +bland smile, as she turned from the counter, and the half-bewildered +store-keeper. +</P> + +<P> +"Stay, madam! there is a slight mistake!" The words were in Mr. +Levering's thoughts, and on the point of gaining utterance, but he +had not the courage to speak. He had gained a dollar in the +transaction beyond his due, and already it was lying heavily on his +conscience. Willingly would he have thrown it off; but when about to +do so, the quick suggestion came, that, in acknowledging to the lady +the fact of her having paid five cents a yard too much, he might +falter in his explanation, and thus betray his attempt to do her +wrong. And so he kept silence, and let her depart beyond recall. +</P> + +<P> +Any thing gained at the price of virtuous self-respect is acquired +at too large a cost. A single dollar on the conscience may press so +heavily as to bear down a man's spirits, and rob him of all the +delights of life. It was so in the present case. Vain was it that +Mr. Levering sought self-justification. Argue the matter as he +would, he found it impossible to escape the smarting conviction that +he had unjustly exacted a dollar from one of his customers. Many +times through the day he found himself in a musing, abstracted +state, and on rousing himself therefrom, became conscious, in his +external thought, that it was the dollar by which he was troubled. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm very foolish," said he, mentally, as he walked homeward, after +closing his store for the evening. "Very foolish to worry myself +about a trifle like this. The goods were cheap enough at fifty-five, +and she is quite as well contented with her bargain as if she had +paid only fifty." +</P> + +<P> +But it would not do. The dollar was on his conscience, and he sought +in vain to remove it by efforts of this kind. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Levering had a wife and three pleasant children. They were the +sunlight of his home. When the business of the day was over, he +usually returned to his own fireside with buoyant feeling. It was +not so on this occasion. There was a pressure on his bosom—a sense +of discomfort—a want of self-satisfaction. The kiss of his wife, +and the clinging arms of his children, as they were twined around +his neck, did not bring the old delight. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the matter with you this evening, dear? Are you not well?" +inquired Mrs. Levering, breaking in upon the thoughtful mood of her +husband, as he sat in unwonted silence. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm perfectly well," he replied, rousing himself, and forcing a +smile. +</P> + +<P> +"You look sober." +</P> + +<P> +"Do I?" Another forced smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Something troubles you, I'm afraid." +</P> + +<P> +"O no; it's all in your imagination." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sick, papa?" now asks a bright little fellow, clambering +upon his knee. +</P> + +<P> +"Why no, love, I'm not sick. Why do you think so?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because you don't play horses with me." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh dear! Is that the ground of your suspicion?" replied the father, +laughing. "Come! we'll soon scatter them to the winds." +</P> + +<P> +And Mr. Levering commenced a game of romps with the children. But he +tired long before they grew weary, nor did he, from the beginning, +enter into this sport with his usual zest. +</P> + +<P> +"Does your head ache, pa?" inquired the child who had previously +suggested sickness, as he saw his father leave the floor, and seat +himself, with some gravity of manner, on a chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Not this evening, dear," answered Mr. Levering. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you play longer, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh pa!" exclaimed another child, speaking from a sudden thought, +"you don't know what a time we had at school to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! what was the cause?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! you'll hardly believe it. But Eddy Jones stole a dollar from +Maggy Enfield!" +</P> + +<P> +"Stole a dollar!" ejaculated Mr. Levering. His voice was husky, and +he felt a cold thrill passing along every nerve. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, pa! he stole a dollar! Oh, wasn't it dreadful?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps he was wrongly accused," suggested Mrs. Levering. +</P> + +<P> +"Emma Wilson saw him do it, and they found the dollar in his pocket. +Oh! he looked so pale, and it made me almost sick to hear him cry as +if his heart would break." +</P> + +<P> +"What did they do with him?" asked Mrs. Levering. +</P> + +<P> +"They sent for his mother, and she took him home. Wasn't it +dreadful?" +</P> + +<P> +"It must have been dreadful for his poor mother," Mr. Levering +ventured to remark. +</P> + +<P> +"But more dreadful for him," said Mrs. Levering. "Will he ever +forget his crime and disgrace? Will the pressure of that dollar on +his conscience ever be removed? He may never do so wicked an act +again; but the memory of this wrong deed cannot be wholly effaced +from his mind." +</P> + +<P> +How rebukingly fell all these words on the ears of Mr. Levering. Ah! +what would he not then have given to have the weight of that dollar +removed? Its pressure was so great as almost to suffocate him. It +was all in vain that he tried to be cheerful, or to take an interest +in what was passing immediately around him. The innocent prattle of +his children had lost its wonted charm, and there seemed an accusing +expression in the eye of his wife, as, in the concern his changed +aspect had occasioned, she looked soberly upon him. Unable to bear +all this, Mr. Levering went out, something unusual for him, and +walked the streets for an hour. On his return, the children were in +bed, and he had regained sufficient self-control to meet his wife +with a less disturbed appearance. +</P> + +<P> +On the next morning, Mr. Levering felt something better. Sleep had +left his mind more tranquil. Still there was a pressure on his +feelings, which thought could trace to that unlucky dollar. About an +hour after going to his store, Mr. Levering saw his customer of the +day previous enter, and move along towards the place where he stood +behind his counter. His heart gave a sudden bound, and the color +rose to his face. An accusing conscience was quick to conclude as to +the object of her visit. But he soon saw that no suspicion of wrong +dealing was in the lady's mind. With a pleasant half recognition, +she asked to look at certain articles, from which she made +purchases, and in paying for them, placed a ten dollar bill in the +hand of the storekeeper. +</P> + +<P> +"That weight shall be off my conscience," said Mr. Levering to +himself, as he began counting out the change due his customer; and, +purposely, he gave her one dollar more than was justly hers in that +transaction. The lady glanced her eyes over the money, and seemed +slightly bewildered. Then, much to the storekeeper's relief, opened +her purse and dropped it therein. +</P> + +<P> +"All right again!" was the mental ejaculation of Mr. Levering, as he +saw the purse disappear in the lady's pocket, while his breast +expanded with a sense of relief. +</P> + +<P> +The customer turned from the counter, and had nearly gained the +door, when she paused, drew out her purse, and emptying the contents +of one end into her hand, carefully noted the amount. Then walking +back, she said, with a thoughtful air— +</P> + +<P> +"I think you 've made a mistake in the change, Mr. Levering." +</P> + +<P> +"I presume not, ma'am. I gave you four and thirty-five," was the +quick reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Four, thirty-five," said the lady, musingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, here is just four, thirty-five." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right; yes, that's right," Mr. Levering spoke, somewhat +nervously. +</P> + +<P> +"The article came to six dollars and sixty-five cents, I believe?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes; that was it!" +</P> + +<P> +"Then three dollars and thirty-five cents will be my right change," +said the lady, placing a small gold coin on the counter. "You gave +me too much." +</P> + +<P> +The customer turned away and retired from the store, leaving that +dollar still on the conscience of Mr. Levering. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll throw it into the street," said he to himself, impatiently. +"Or give it to the first beggar that comes along." +</P> + +<P> +But conscience whispered that the dollar wasn't his, either to give +away or to throw away. Such prodigality, or impulsive benevolence, +would be at the expense of another, and this could not mend the +matter. +</P> + +<P> +"This is all squeamishness," said Mr. Levering trying to argue +against his convictions. But it was of no avail. His convictions +remained as clear and rebuking as ever. +</P> + +<P> +The next day was the Sabbath, and Mr. Levering went to church, as +usual, with his family. Scarcely had he taken a seat in his pew, +when, on raising his eyes, they rested on the countenance of the +lady from whom he had abstracted the dollar. How quickly his cheek +flushed! How troubled became, instantly, the beatings of his heart! +Unhappy Mr. Levering! He could not make the usual responses that +day, in the services; and when the congregation joined in the +swelling hymn of praise, his voice was heard not in the general +thanksgiving. Scarcely a word of the eloquent sermon reached his +ears, except something about "dishonest dealing;" he was too deeply +engaged in discussing the question, whether or no he should get rid +of the troublesome dollar by dropping it into the contribution box, +at the close of the morning service, to listen to the words of the +preacher. This question was not settled when the box came round, +but, as a kind of desperate alternative, he cast the money into the +treasury. +</P> + +<P> +For a short time, Mr. Levering felt considerable relief of mind. But +this disposition of the money proved only a temporary palliative. +There was a pressure on his feelings; still a weight on his +conscience that gradually became heavier. Poor man! What was he to +do? How was he to get this dollar removed from his conscience? He +could not send it back to the lady and tell her the whole truth. +Such an exposure of himself would not only be humiliating, but +hurtful to his character. It would be seeking to do right, in the +infliction of a wrong to himself. +</P> + +<P> +At last, Mr. Levering, who had ascertained the lady's name and +residence, inclosed her a dollar, anonymously, stating that it was +her due; that the writer had obtained it from her, unjustly, in a +transaction which he did not care to name, and could not rest until +he had made restitution. +</P> + +<P> +Ah! the humiliation of spirit suffered by Mr. Levering in thus +seeking to get ease for his conscience! It was one of his bitterest +life experiences. The longer the dollar remained in his possession, +the heavier became its pressure, until he could endure it no longer. +He felt not only disgraced in his own eyes, but humbled in the +presence of his wife and children. Not for worlds would he have +suffered them to look into his heart. +</P> + +<P> +If a simple act of restitution could have covered all the past, +happy would it have been for Mr. Levering. But this was not +possible. The deed was entered in the book of his life, and nothing +could efface the record. Though obscured by the accumulating dust of +time, now and then a hand sweeps unexpectedly over the page, and the +writing is revealed. Though that dollar has been removed from his +conscience, and he is now guiltless of wrong, yet there are times +when the old pressure is felt with painful distinctness. +</P> + +<P> +Earnest seeker after this world's goods, take warning by Mr. +Levering, and beware how, in a moment of weak yielding, you get a +dollar on your conscience. One of two evils must follow. It will +give you pain and trouble, or make callous the spot where it rests. +And the latter of these evils is that which is most to be deplored. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="suggestion"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AUNT MARY'S SUGGESTION. +</H3> + +<P> +"JOHN THOMAS!" Mr. Belknap spoke in a firm, rather authoritative +voice. It was evident that he anticipated some reluctance on the +boy's part, and therefore, assumed, in the outset, a very decided +manner. +</P> + +<P> +John Thomas, a lad between twelve and thirteen years of age, was +seated on the doorstep, reading. A slight movement of the body +indicated that he heard; but he did not lift his eyes from the book, +nor make any verbal response. +</P> + +<P> +"John Thomas!" This time the voice of Mr. Belknap was loud, sharp, +and imperative. +</P> + +<P> +"Sir," responded the boy, dropping the volume in his lap, and +looking up with a slightly flushed, but sullen face. +</P> + +<P> +"Did n't you hear me when I first spoke?" said Mr. Belknap, angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Then, why did n't you answer me? Always respond when you are spoken +to. I'm tired of this ill-mannered, disrespectful way of yours." +</P> + +<P> +The boy stood up, looking, now, dogged, as well as sullen. +</P> + +<P> +"Go get your hat and jacket." This was said in a tone of command, +accompanied by a side toss of the head, by the way of enforcing the +order. +</P> + +<P> +"What for?" asked John Thomas, not moving a pace from where he +stood. +</P> + +<P> +"Go and do what I tell you. Get your hat and jacket." +</P> + +<P> +The boy moved slowly and with a very reluctant air from the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, don't be all day," Mr. Belknap called after him, "I'm in a +hurry. Move briskly." +</P> + +<P> +How powerless the father's words died upon the air. The motions of +John Thomas were not quickened in the slightest degree. Like a +soulless automaton passed he out into the passage and up the stairs; +while the impatient Mr. Belknap could with difficulty restrain an +impulse to follow after, and hasten the sulky boy's movements with +blows. He controlled himself, however, and resumed the perusal of +his newspaper. Five, ten minutes passed, and John Thomas had not yet +appeared to do the errand upon which his father designed to send +him. Suddenly Mr. Belknap dropped his paper, and going hastily to +the bottom of the stairs, called out: +</P> + +<P> +"You John! John Thomas!" +</P> + +<P> +"Sir!" came a provokingly indifferent voice from one of the +chambers. +</P> + +<P> +"Did n't I tell you to hurry—say?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't find my jacket." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't want to find it. Where did you lay it when you took it +off last night?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. I forget." +</P> + +<P> +"If you're not down here, with your jacket on, in one minute, I'll +warm your shoulders well for you." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Belknap was quite in earnest in this threat, a fact plainly +enough apparent to John Thomas in the tone of his father's voice. +Not just wishing to have matters proceed to this extremity, the boy +opened a closet, and, singularly enough, there hung his jacket in +full view. At the expiration of the minute, he was standing before +his disturbed father, with his jacket on, and buttoned up to the +chin. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's your hat?" now asked Mr. Belknap. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, find it, then." +</P> + +<P> +"I've looked everywhere." +</P> + +<P> +"Look again. There! What is that on the hat rack, just under my +coat?" +</P> + +<P> +The boy answered not, but walked moodily to the rack, and took his +hat therefrom. +</P> + +<P> +"Ready at last. I declare I'm out of all patience with your slow +movements and sulky manner. What do you stand there for, knitting +your brows and pouting your lips? Straighten out your face, sir! I +won't have a boy of mine put on such a countenance." +</P> + +<P> +The lad, thus angrily and insultingly rated, made a feeble effort to +throw a few rays of sunshine into his face. But, the effort died +fruitless. All was too dark, sullen, and rebellious within his +bosom. +</P> + +<P> +"See here." Mr. Belknap still spoke in that peculiar tone of command +which always stifles self-respect in the one to whom it is +addressed. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you go down to Leslie's and tell him to send me a good claw +hammer and three pounds of eightpenny nails. And go quickly." +</P> + +<P> +The boy turned off without a word of reply, and was slowly moving +away, when his father said, sharply: +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, sir!" +</P> + +<P> +John Thomas paused and looked back. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you hear me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"What did I tell you to do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Go get a claw hammer and three pounds of eightpenny nails." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. Why did n't you indicate, in some way, that you heard +me? Have n't I already this morning read you a lecture about this +very thing? Now, go quickly. I'm in a hurry." +</P> + +<P> +For all this impatience and authority on the part of Mr. Belknap, +John Thomas moved away at a snail's pace; and as the former in a +state of considerable irritability, gazed after the boy, he felt +strongly tempted to call him back, and give him a good flogging in +order that he might clearly comprehend the fact of his being in +earnest. But as this flogging was an unpleasant kind of business, +and had, on all previous occasions, been succeeded by a repentant +and self-accusing state, Mr. Belknap restrained his indignant +impulses. +</P> + +<P> +"If that stubborn, incorrigible boy returns in half an hour, it will +be a wonder," muttered Mr. Belknap, as he came back into the +sitting-room. "I wish I knew what to do with him. There is no +respect or obedience in him. I never saw such a boy. He knows that +I'm in a hurry; and yet he goes creeping along like a tortoise, and +ten chances to one, if he does n't forget his errand altogether +before he is halfway to Leslie's. What is to be done with him, Aunt +Mary?" +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Belknap turned, as he spoke to an elderly lady, with a mild, +open face, and clear blue eyes, from which goodness looked forth as +an angel. She was a valued relative, who was paying him a brief +visit. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Mary let her knitting rest in her lap, and turned her mild, +thoughtful eyes upon the speaker. +</P> + +<P> +"What is to be done with that boy, Aunt Mary?" Mr. Belknap repeated +his words. "I've tried everything with him; but he remains +incorrigible." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you tried—" +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Mary paused, and seemed half in doubt whether it were best to +give utterance to what was in her mind. +</P> + +<P> +"Tried what?" asked Mr. Belknap. +</P> + +<P> +"May I speak plainly?" said Aunt Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"To me? Why yes! The plainer the better." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you tried a kind, affectionate, unimpassioned manner with the +boy? Since I have been here, I notice that you speak to him in a +cold, indifferent, or authoritative tone. Under such treatment, some +natures, that soften quickly in the sunshine of affection, grow hard +and stubborn." +</P> + +<P> +The blood mounted to the cheeks and brow of Mr. Belknap. +</P> + +<P> +"Forgive me, if I have spoken too plainly," said Aunt Mary. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Belknap did not make any response for some time, but sat, with +his eyes upon the floor, in hurried self-examination. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Aunt Mary, not too plainly," said he, as he looked at her with +a sobered face. "I needed that suggestion, and thank you for having +made it." +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Howitt has a line which beautifully expresses what I mean," +said Aunt Mary, in her gentle, earnest way. "It is +</P> + +<P> + 'For love hath readier will than fear.'<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Ah, if we could all comprehend the wonderful power of love! It is +the fire that melts; while fear only smites, the strokes hardening, +or breaking its unsightly fragments. John Thomas has many good +qualities, that ought to be made as active as possible. These, like +goodly flowers growing in a carefully tilled garden, will absorb the +latent vitality in his mind, and thus leave nothing from which +inherent evil tendencies can draw nutrition." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Mary said no more, and Mr. Belknap's thoughts were soon too +busy with a new train of ideas, to leave him in any mood for +conversation. +</P> + +<P> +Time moved steadily on. Nearly half an hour had elapsed, in which +period John Thomas might have gone twice to Leslie's store, and +returned; yet he was still absent. Mr. Belknap was particularly in +want of the hammer and nails, and the delay chafed him very +considerably; the more particularly, as it evidenced the +indifference of his son in respect to his wishes and commands. +Sometimes he would yield to a momentary blinding flush of anger, and +resolve to punish the boy severely the moment he could get his hands +on him. But quickly would come in Aunt Mary's suggestion, and he +would again resolve to try the power of kind words. He was also a +good deal strengthened in his purposes, by the fact that Aunt Mary's +eyes would be upon him at the return of John Thomas. After her +suggestion, and his acknowledgment of its value, it would hardly do +for him to let passion so rule him as to act in open violation of +what was right. To wrong his son by unwise treatment, when he +professed to desire only his good. +</P> + +<P> +The fact is, Mr. Belknap had already made the discovery, that if he +would govern his boy, he must first govern himself. This was not an +easy task. Yet he felt that it must be done. +</P> + +<P> +"There comes that boy now," said he, as he glanced forth, and saw +John Thomas coming homeward at a very deliberate pace. There was +more of impatience in his tone of voice than he wished to betray to +Aunt Mary, who let her beautiful, angel-like eyes rest for a moment +or two, penetratingly, upon him. The balancing power of that look +was needed; and it performed its work. +</P> + +<P> +Soon after, the loitering boy came in. He had a package of nails in +his hand, which he reached, half indifferently, to his father. +</P> + +<P> +"The hammer!" John started with a half frightened air. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed, father, I forgot all about it!" said he, looking up with a +flushed countenance, in which genuine regret was plainly visible. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry," said Mr. Belknap, in a disappointed, but not angry or +rebuking voice. "I've been waiting a long time for you to come back, +and now I must go to the store without nailing up that trellice for +your mother's honeysuckle and wisteria, as I promised." +</P> + +<P> +The boy looked at his father a moment or two with an air of +bewilderment and surprise; then he said, earnestly: +</P> + +<P> +"Just wait a little longer. I'll run down to the store and get it +for you in a minute. I'm very sorry that I forgot it." +</P> + +<P> +"Run along, then," said Mr. Belknap, kindly. +</P> + +<P> +How fleetly the lad bounded away! His father gazed after him with an +emotion of surprise, not unmixed with pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—yes," he murmured, half aloud, "Mrs. Howitt never uttered a +wiser saying. 'For love hath readier will than fear.'" +</P> + +<P> +Quicker than even Aunt Mary, whose faith in kind words was very +strong, had expected, John came in with the hammer, a bright glow on +his cheeks and a sparkle in his eyes that strongly contrasted with +the utter want of interest displayed in his manner a little while +before. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, my son," said Mr. Belknap, as he took the hammer; "I +could not have asked a prompter service." +</P> + +<P> +He spoke very kindly, and in a voice of approval. "And now, John," +he added, with the manner of one who requests, rather than commands, +"if you will go over to Frank Wilson's, and tell him to come over +and work for two or three days in our garden, you will oblige me +very much. I was going to call there as I went to the store this +morning; but it is too late now." +</P> + +<P> +"O, I'll go, father—I'll go," replied the boy, quickly and +cheerfully. "I'll run right over at once." +</P> + +<P> +"Do, if you please," said Mr. Belknap, now speaking from an impulse +of real kindness, for a thorough change had come over his feelings. +A grateful look was cast, by John Thomas, into his father's face, +and then he was off to do his errand. Mr. Belknap saw, and +understood the meaning of that look. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—yes—yes,—" thus he talked with himself as he took his way to +the store,—"Aunt Mary and Mrs. Howitt are right. Love hath a +readier will. I ought to have learned this lesson earlier. Ah! how +much that is deformed in this self-willed boy, might now be growing +in beauty." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="poor"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HELPING THE POOR. +</H3> + +<P> +"I'M on a begging expedition," said Mr. Jonas, as he came bustling +into the counting-room of a fellow merchant named Prescott. "And, as +you are a benevolent man, I hope to get at least five dollars here +in aid of a family in extremely indigent circumstances. My wife +heard of them yesterday; and the little that was learned, has +strongly excited our sympathies. So I am out on a mission for +supplies. I want to raise enough to buy them a ton of coal, a barrel +of flour, a bag of potatoes, and a small lot of groceries." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know anything of the family for which you propose this +charity?" inquired Mr. Prescott, with a slight coldness of manner. +</P> + +<P> +"I only know that they are in want and that it is the first duty of +humanity to relieve them," said Mr. Jonas, quite warmly. +</P> + +<P> +"I will not question your inference," said Mr. Prescott. "To relieve +the wants of our suffering fellow creatures is an unquestionable +duty. But there is another important consideration connected with +poverty and its demands upon us." +</P> + +<P> +"What is that pray?" inquired Mr. Jonas, who felt considerably +fretted by so unexpected a damper to his benevolent enthusiasm. +</P> + +<P> +"How it shall be done," answered Mr. Prescott, calmly. +</P> + +<P> +"If a man is hungry, give him bread; if he is naked, clothe him," +said Mr. Jonas. "There is no room for doubt or question here. This +family I learn, are suffering for all the necessaries of life, and I +can clearly see the duty to supply their wants." +</P> + +<P> +"Of how many does the family consist?" asked Mr. Prescott. +</P> + +<P> +"There is a man and his wife and three or four children." +</P> + +<P> +"Is the man sober and industrious?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know anything about him. I've had no time to make +inquiries. I only know that hunger and cold are in his dwelling, or, +at least were in his dwelling yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you have already furnished relief?" +</P> + +<P> +"Temporary relief. I shouldn't have slept last night, after what I +heard, without just sending them a bushel of coal, and a basket of +provisions." +</P> + +<P> +"For which I honor your kindness of heart, Mr. Jonas. So far you +acted right. But, I am by no means so well assured of the wisdom and +humanity of your present action in the case. The true way to help +the poor, is to put it into their power to help themselves. The mere +bestowal of alms is, in most cases an injury; either encouraging +idleness and vice, or weakening self-respect and virtuous +self-dependence. There is innate strength in every one; let us seek +to develop this strength in the prostrate, rather than hold them up +by a temporary application of our own powers, to fall again, +inevitably, when the sustaining hand is removed. This, depend upon +it, is not true benevolence. Every one has ability to serve the +common good, and society renders back sustenance for bodily life as +the reward of this service." +</P> + +<P> +"But, suppose a man cannot get work," said Mr. Jonas. "How is he to +serve society, for the sake of a reward?" +</P> + +<P> +"True charity will provide employment for him rather than bestow +alms." +</P> + +<P> +"But, if there is no employment to be had Mr. Prescott?" +</P> + +<P> +"You make a very extreme case. For all who are willing to work, in +this country, there is employment." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm by no means ready to admit this assertion." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we'll not deal in general propositions; because anything can +be assumed or denied. Let us come direct to the case in point, and +thus determine our duty towards the family whose needs we are +considering. Which will be best for them? To help them in the way +you propose, or to encourage them to help themselves?" +</P> + +<P> +"All I know about them at present," replied Mr. Jonas, who was +beginning to feel considerably worried, "is, that they are suffering +for the common necessaries of life. It is all very well to tell a +man to help himself, but, if his arm be paralyzed, or he have no key +to open the provision shop, he will soon starve under that system of +benevolence. Feed and clothe a man first, and then set him to work +to help himself. He will have life in his heart and strength in his +hands." +</P> + +<P> +"This sounds all very fair, Mr. Jonas; and yet, there is not so much +true charity involved there as appears on the surface. It will avail +little, however, for us to debate the matter now. Your time and mine +are both of too much value during business hours for useless +discussion. I cannot give, understandingly, in the present case, and +so must disappoint your expectations in this quarter." +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning, then," said Mr. Jonas, bowing rather coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning," pleasantly responded Mr. Prescott, as his visitor +turned and left his store. +</P> + +<P> +"All a mean excuse for not giving," said Mr. Jonas, to himself, as +he walked rather hurriedly away. "I don't believe much in the +benevolence of your men who are so particular about the whys and +wherefores—so afraid to give a dollar to a poor, starving fellow +creature, lest the act encourage vice or idleness." +</P> + +<P> +The next person upon whom Mr. Jonas called, happened to be very much +of Mr. Prescott's way of thinking; and the next chanced to know +something about the family for whom he was soliciting aid. "A lazy, +vagabond set!" exclaimed the individual, when Mr. Jonas mentioned +his errand, "who would rather want than work. They may starve before +I give them a shilling." +</P> + +<P> +"Is this true?" asked Mr. Jonas, in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly it is. I've had their case stated before. In fact, I went +through the sleet and rain one bitter cold night to take them +provisions, so strongly had my sympathies in regard to them been +excited. Let them go to work." +</P> + +<P> +"But can the man get work?" inquired Mr. Jonas. +</P> + +<P> +"Other poor men, who have families dependent on them, can get work. +Where there's a will there's a way. Downright laziness is the +disease in this case, and the best cure for which is a little +wholesome starvation. So, take my advice, and leave this excellent +remedy to work out a cure." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Jonas went back to his store in rather a vexed state of mind. +All his fine feelings of benevolence were stifled. He was angry with +the indigent family, and angry with himself for being "the fool to +meddle with any business but his own." +</P> + +<P> +"Catch me on such an errand again," said he, indignantly. "I'll +never seek to do a good turn again as long as I live." +</P> + +<P> +Just as he was saying this, his neighbor Prescott came into his +store. +</P> + +<P> +"Where does the poor family live, of whom you were speaking to me?" +he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"O, don't ask me about them!" exclaimed Mr. Jonas. "I've just found +them out. They're a lazy, vagabond set." +</P> + +<P> +"You are certain of that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Morally certain. Mr. Caddy says he knows them like a book, and +they'd rather want than work. With him, I think a little wholesome +starvation will do them good." +</P> + +<P> +Notwithstanding this rather discouraging testimony, Mr. Prescott +made a memorandum of the street and number of the house in which the +family lived, remarking as he did so: +</P> + +<P> +"I have just heard where the services of an able-bodied man are +wanted. Perhaps Gardiner, as you call him, may be glad to obtain the +situation." +</P> + +<P> +"He won't work; that's the character I have received of him," +replied Mr. Jonas, whose mind was very much roused against the man. +The pendulum of his impulses had swung, from a light touch, to the +other extreme. +</P> + +<P> +"A dollar earned, is worth two received in charity," said Mr. +Prescott; "because the dollar earned corresponds to service +rendered, and the man feels that it is his own—that he has an +undoubted right to its possession. It elevates his moral character, +inspires self-respect, and prompts to new efforts. Mere alms-giving +is demoralizing for the opposite reason. It blunts the moral +feelings, lowers the self-respect, and fosters inactivity and +idleness, opening the way for vice to come in and sweep away all the +foundations of integrity. Now, true charity to the poor is for us to +help them to help themselves. Since you left me a short time ago, I +have been thinking, rather hastily, over the matter; and the fact of +hearing about the place for an able-bodied man, as I just mentioned, +has led me to call around and suggest your making interest therefor +in behalf of Gardiner. Helping him in this way will be true +benevolence." +</P> + +<P> +"It's no use," replied Mr. Jonas, in a positive tone of voice. "He's +an idle good-for-nothing fellow, and I'll have nothing to do with +him." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Prescott urged the matter no farther, for he saw that to do so +would be useless. On his way home, on leaving his store, he called +to see Gardiner. He found, in two small, meagerly furnished rooms, a +man, his wife, and three children. Everything about them indicated +extreme poverty; and, worse than this, lack of cleanliness and +industry. The woman and children had a look of health, but the man +was evidently the subject of some wasting disease. His form was +light, his face thin and rather pale, and his languid eyes deeply +sunken. He was very far from being the able-bodied man Mr. Prescott +had expected to find. As the latter stepped into the miserable room +where they were gathered, the light of expectation, mingled with the +shadows of mute suffering, came into their countenances. Mr. +Prescott was a close observer, and saw, at a glance, the assumed +sympathy-exciting face of the mendicant in each. +</P> + +<P> +"You look rather poor here," said he, as he took a chair, which the +woman dusted with her dirty apron before handing it to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed, sir, and we are miserably off," replied the woman, in a +half whining tone. "John, there, hasn't done a stroke of work now +for three months; and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not!" interrupted Mr. Prescott. +</P> + +<P> +"My health is very poor," said the man. "I suffer much from pain in +my side and back, and am so weak most of the time, that I can hardly +creep about." +</P> + +<P> +"That is bad, certainly," replied Mr. Prescott, "very bad." And as +he spoke, he turned his eyes to the woman's face, and then scanned +the children very closely. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that boy of yours doing anything?" he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir," replied the mother. "He's too young to be of any +account." +</P> + +<P> +"He's thirteen, if my eyes do not deceive me." +</P> + +<P> +"Just a little over thirteen." +</P> + +<P> +"Does he go to school?" +</P> + +<P> +"No sir. He has no clothes fit to be seen in at school." +</P> + +<P> +"Bad—bad," said Mr. Prescott, "very bad. The boy might be earning +two dollars a week; instead of which he is growing up in idleness, +which surely leads to vice." +</P> + +<P> +Gardiner looked slightly confused at this remark, and his wife, +evidently, did not feel very comfortable under the steady, observant +eyes that were on her. +</P> + +<P> +"You seem to be in good health," said Mr. Prescott, looking at the +woman. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes sir, thank God! And if it wasn't for that, I don't know what we +should all have done. Everything has fallen upon me since John, +there, has been ailing." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Prescott glanced around the room, and then remarked, a little +pleasantly: +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see that you make the best use of your health and +strength." +</P> + +<P> +The woman understood him, for the color came instantly to her face. +</P> + +<P> +"There is no excuse for dirt and disorder," said the visitor, more +seriously. "I once called to see a poor widow, in such a state of +low health that she had to lie in bed nearly half of every day. She +had two small children, and supported herself and them by fine +embroidery, at which she worked nearly all the time. I never saw a +neater room in my life than hers, and her children, though in very +plain and patched clothing, were perfectly clean. How different is +all here; and yet, when I entered, you all sat idly amid this +disorder, and—shall I speak plainly—filth." +</P> + +<P> +The woman, on whose face the color had deepened while Mr. Prescott +spoke, now rose up quickly, and commenced bustling about the room, +which, in a few moments, looked far less in disorder. That she felt +his rebuke, the visiter regarded as a good sign. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," said he, as the woman resumed her seat, "let me give you the +best maxim for the poor in the English language; one that, if lived +by, will soon extinguish poverty, or make it a very light +thing,—'God helps those who help themselves.' To be very plain with +you, it is clear to my eyes, that you do not try to help yourselves; +such being the case, you need not expect gratuitous help from God. +Last evening you received some coal and a basket of provisions from +a kind-hearted man, who promised more efficient aid to-day. You have +not yet heard from him, and what is more, will not hear from him. +Some one, to whom he applied for a contribution happened to know +more about you than he did, and broadly pronounced you a set of idle +vagabonds. Just think of bearing such a character! He dropped the +matter at once, and you will get nothing from him. I am one of those +upon whom he called. Now, if you are all disposed to help +yourselves, I will try to stand your friend. If not, I shall have +nothing to do with you. I speak plainly; it is better; there will be +less danger of apprehension. That oldest boy of yours must go to +work and earn something. And your daughter can work about the house +for you very well, while you go out to wash, or scrub, and thus earn +a dollar or two, or three, every week. There will be no danger of +starvation on this income, and you will then eat your bread in +independence. Mr. Gardiner can help some, I do not in the least +doubt." +</P> + +<P> +And Mr. Prescott looked inquiringly at the man. +</P> + +<P> +"If I was only able-bodied," said Gardiner, in a half reluctant tone +and manner. +</P> + +<P> +"But you are not. Still, there are many things you may do. If by a +little exertion you can earn the small sum of two or three dollars a +week, it will be far better—even for your health—than idleness. +Two dollars earned every week by your wife, two by your boy, and +three by yourself, would make seven dollars a week; and if I am not +very much mistaken, you don't see half that sum in a week now." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed, sir, and you speak the truth there," said the woman. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. It's plain, then, that work is better than idleness." +</P> + +<P> +"But we can't get work." The woman fell back upon this strong +assertion. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't believe a word of it. I can tell you how to earn half a +dollar a day for the next four or five days at least. So there's a +beginning for you. Put yourself in the way of useful employment, and +you will have no difficulty beyond." +</P> + +<P> +"What kind of work, sir?" inquired the woman. +</P> + +<P> +"We are about moving into a new house, and my wife commences the +work of having it cleaned to-morrow morning. She wants another +assistant. Will you come?" +</P> + +<P> +The woman asked the number of his residence, and promised to accept +the offer of work. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. So far so good," said Mr. Prescott, cheerfully, as he +arose. "You shall be paid at the close of each day's work; and that +will give you the pleasure of eating your own bread—a real +pleasure, you may depend upon it; for a loaf of bread earned is +sweeter than the richest food bestowed by charity, and far better +for the health." +</P> + +<P> +"But about the boy, sir?" said Gardiner, whose mind was becoming +active with more independent thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +"All in good time," said Mr. Prescott smiling. "Rome was not built +in a day, you know. First let us secure a beginning. If your wife +goes to-morrow, I shall think her in earnest; as willing to help +herself, and, therefore, worthy to be helped. All the rest will come +in due order. But you may rest assured, that, if she does not come +to work, it is the end of the matter as far as I am concerned. So +good evening to you." +</P> + +<P> +Bright and early came Mrs. Gardiner on the next morning, far tidier +in appearance than when Mr. Prescott saw her before. She was a +stout, strong woman, and knew how to scrub and clean paint as well +as the best. When fairly in the spirit of work, she worked on with a +sense of pleasure. Mrs. Prescott was well satisfied with her +performance, and paid her the half dollar earned when her day's toil +was done. On the next day, and the next, she came, doing her work +and receiving her wages. +</P> + +<P> +On the evening of the third day, Mr. Prescott thought it time to +call upon the Gardiners. +</P> + +<P> +"Well this is encouraging!" said he, with an expression of real +pleasure, as he gazed around the room, which scarcely seemed like +the one he had visited before. All was clean, and everything in +order; and, what was better still, the persons of all, though poorly +clad, were clean and tidy. Mrs. Gardiner sat by the table mending a +garment; her daughter was putting away the supper dishes; while the +man sat teaching a lesson in spelling to their youngest child. +</P> + +<P> +The glow of satisfaction that pervaded the bosom of each member of +the family, as Mr. Prescott uttered these approving words, was a new +and higher pleasure than had for a long time been experienced, and +caused the flame of self-respect and self-dependence, rekindled once +more, to rise upwards in a steady flame. +</P> + +<P> +"I like to see this," continued Mr. Prescott. "It does me good. You +have fairly entered the right road. Walk on steadily, courageously, +unweariedly. There is worldly comfort and happiness for you at the +end. I think I have found a very good place for your son, where he +will receive a dollar and a half a week to begin with. In a few +months, if all things suit, he will get two dollars. The work is +easy, and the opportunities for improvement good. I think there is a +chance for you, also, Mr. Gardiner. I have something in my mind that +will just meet your case. Light work, and not over five or six hours +application each day—the wages four dollars a week to begin with, +and a prospect of soon having them raised to six or seven dollars. +What do you think of that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sir!" exclaimed the poor man, in whom personal pride and a native +love of independence were again awakening, "if you can do this for +me, you will be indeed a benefactor." +</P> + +<P> +"It shall be done," said Mr. Prescott, positively. "Did I not say to +you, that God helps those who help themselves? It is even thus. No +one, in our happy country who is willing to work, need be in want; +and money earned by honest industry buys the sweetest bread." +</P> + +<P> +It required a little watching, and urging, and admonition, on the +part of Mr. and Mrs. Prescott, to keep the Gardiners moving on +steadily, in the right way. Old habits and inclinations had gained +too much power easily to be broken; and but for this watchfulness on +their part, idleness and want would again have entered the poor +man's dwelling. +</P> + +<P> +The reader will hardly feel surprise, when told, that in three or +four years from the time Mr. Prescott so wisely met the case of the +indigent Gardiners, they were living in a snug little house of their +own, nearly paid for out of the united industry of the family, every +one of which was now well clad, cheerful, and in active employment. +As for Mr. Gardiner, his health has improved, instead of being +injured by light employment. Cheerful, self-approving thoughts, and +useful labor, have temporarily renovated a fast sinking +constitution. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Prescott's way of helping the poor is the right way. They must +be taught to help themselves. Mere alms-giving is but a temporary +aid, and takes away, instead of giving, that basis of +self-dependence, on which all should rest. Help a man up, and teach +him to use his feet, so that he can walk alone. This is true +benevolence. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="people"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +COMMON PEOPLE. +</H3> + +<P> +"ARE you going to call upon Mrs. Clayton and her daughters, Mrs. +Marygold?" asked a neighbor, alluding to a family that had just +moved into Sycamore Row. +</P> + +<P> +"No, indeed, Mrs. Lemmington, that I am not. I don't visit +everybody." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought the Claytons were a very respectable family," remarked +Mrs. Lemmington. +</P> + +<P> +"Respectable! Everybody is getting respectable now-a-days. If they +are respectable, it is very lately that they have become so. What is +Mr. Clayton, I wonder, but a school-master! It's too bad that such +people will come crowding themselves into genteel neighborhoods. The +time was when to live in Sycamore Row was guarantee enough for any +one—but, now, all kinds of people have come into it." +</P> + +<P> +"I have never met Mrs. Clayton," remarked Mrs. Lemmington, "but I +have been told that she is a most estimable woman, and that her +daughters have been educated with great care. Indeed, they are +represented as being highly accomplished girls." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I don't care what they are represented to be. I'm not going +to keep company with a schoolmaster's wife and daughters, that's +certain." +</P> + +<P> +"Is there anything disgraceful in keeping a school?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, nor in making shoes, either. But, then, that's no reason why I +should keep company with my shoemaker's wife, is it? Let common +people associate together—that's my doctrine." +</P> + +<P> +"But what do you mean by common people, Mrs. Marygold?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I mean common people. Poor people. People who have not come of +a respectable family. That's what I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"I am not sure that I comprehend your explanation much better than I +do your classification. If you mean, as you say, poor people, your +objection will not apply with full force to the Claytons, for they +are now in tolerably easy circumstances. As to the family of Mr. +Clayton, I believe his father was a man of integrity, though not +rich. And Mrs. Clayton's family I know to be without reproach of any +kind." +</P> + +<P> +"And yet they are common people for all that," persevered Mrs. +Marygold. "Wasn't old Clayton a mere petty dealer in small wares. +And wasn't Mrs. Clayton's father a mechanic?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps, if some of us were to go back for a generation or two, we +might trace out an ancestor who held no higher place in society," +Mrs. Lemmington remarked, quietly. "I have no doubt but that I +should." +</P> + +<P> +"I have no fears of that kind," replied Mrs. Marygold, in an +exulting tone. "I shall never blush when my pedigree is traced." +</P> + +<P> +"Nor I neither, I hope. Still, I should not wonder if some one of my +ancestors had disgraced himself, for there are but few families that +are not cursed with a spotted sheep. But I have nothing to do with +that, and ask only to be judged by what I am—not by what my +progenitors have been." +</P> + +<P> +"A standard that few will respect, let me tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"A standard that far the largest portion of society will regard as +the true one, I hope," replied Mrs. Lemmington. "But, surely, you do +not intend refusing to call upon the Claytons for the reason you +have assigned, Mrs. Marygold." +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly I do. They are nothing but common people, and therefore +beneath me. I shall not stoop to associate with them." +</P> + +<P> +"I think that I will call upon them. In fact, my object in dropping +in this morning was to see if you would not accompany me," said Mrs. +Lemmington. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed, I will not, and for the reasons I have given. They are only +common people. You will be stooping." +</P> + +<P> +"No one stoops in doing a kind act. Mrs. Clayton is a stranger in +the neighborhood, and is entitled to the courtesy of a call, if no +more; and that I shall extend to her. If I find her to be +uncongenial in her tastes, no intimate acquaintanceship need be +formed. If she is congenial, I will add another to my list of valued +friends. You and I, I find, estimate differently. I judge every +individual by merit, you by family, or descent." +</P> + +<P> +"You can do as you please," rejoined Mrs. Marygold, somewhat coldly. +"For my part, I am particular about my associates. I will visit Mrs. +Florence, and Mrs. Harwood, and such an move in good society, but as +to your schoolteachers' wives and daughters, I must beg to be +excused." +</P> + +<P> +"Every one to her taste," rejoined Mrs. Lemmington, with a smile, as +she moved towards the door, where she stood for a few moments to +utter some parting compliments, and then withdrew. +</P> + +<P> +Five minutes afterwards she was shown into Mrs. Clayton's parlors, +where, in a moment or two, she was met by the lady upon whom she had +called, and received with an air of easy gracefulness, that at once +charmed her. A brief conversation convinced her that Mrs. Clayton +was, in intelligence and moral worth, as far above Mrs. Marygold, as +that personage imagined herself to be above her. Her daughters, who +came in while she sat conversing with their mother, showed +themselves to possess all those graces of mind and manner that win +upon our admiration so irresistably. An hour passed quickly and +pleasantly, and then Mrs. Lemmington withdrew. +</P> + +<P> +The difference between Mrs. Lemmington and Mrs. Marygold was simply +this. The former had been familiar with what is called the best +society from her earliest recollection, and being therefore, +constantly in association with those looked upon as the upper class, +knew nothing of the upstart self-estimation which is felt by certain +weak ignorant persons, who by some accidental circumstance are +elevated far above the condition into which they moved originally. +She could estimate true worth in humble garb as well as in velvet +and rich satins. She was one of those individuals who never pass an +old and worthy domestic in the street without recognition, or +stopping to make some kind inquiry—one who never forgot a familiar +face, or neglected to pass a kind word to even the humblest who +possessed the merit of good principles. As to Mrs. Marygold, +notwithstanding her boast in regard to pedigree, there were not a +few who could remember when her grandfather carried a pedlar's pack +on his back—and an honest and worthy pedlar he was, saving his +pence until they became pounds, and then relinquishing his +peregrinating propensities, for the quieter life of a small +shop-keeper. His son, the father of Mrs. Marygold, while a boy had a +pretty familiar acquaintance with low life. But, as soon as his +father gained the means to do so, he was put to school and furnished +with a good education. Long before he was of age, the old man had +become a pretty large shipper; and when his son arrived at mature +years, he took him into business as a partner. In marrying, Mrs. +Marygold's father chose a young lady whose father, like his own, had +grown rich by individual exertions. This young lady had not a few +false notions in regard to the true genteel, and these fell +legitimately to the share of her eldest daughter, who, when she in +turn came upon the stage of action, married into an old and what was +called a highly respectable family, a circumstance that puffed her +up to the full extent of her capacity to bear inflation. There were +few in the circle of her acquaintances who did not fully appreciate +her, and smile at her weakness and false pride. Mrs. Florence, to +whom she had alluded in her conversation with Mrs. Lemmington, and +who lived in Sycamore Row, was not only faultless in regard to +family connections, but was esteemed in the most intelligent circles +for her rich mental endowments and high moral principles. Mrs. +Harwood, also alluded to, was the daughter of an English barrister +and wife of a highly distinguished professional man, and was besides +richly endowed herself, morally and intellectually. Although Mrs. +Marygold was very fond of visiting them for the mere <I>eclat</I> of the +thing, yet their company was scarcely more agreeable to her, than +hers was to them, for there was little in common between them. +Still, they had to tolerate her, and did so with a good grace. +</P> + +<P> +It was, perhaps, three months after Mrs. Clayton moved into the +neighborhood, that cards of invitation were sent to Mr. and Mrs. +Marygold and daughter to pass a social evening at Mrs. Harwood's. +Mrs. M. was of course delighted and felt doubly proud of her own +importance. Her daughter Melinda, of whom she was excessively vain, +was an indolent, uninteresting girl, too dull to imbibe even a small +portion of her mother's self-estimation. In company, she attracted +but little attention, except what her father's money and standing in +society claimed for her. +</P> + +<P> +On the evening appointed, the Marygolds repaired to the elegant +residence of Mrs. Harwood and were ushered into a large and +brilliant company, more than half of whom were strangers even to +them. Mrs. Lemmington was there, and Mrs. Florence, and many others +with whom Mrs. Marygold was on terms of intimacy, besides several +"distinguished strangers." Among those with whom Mrs. Marygold was +unacquainted, were two young ladies who seemed to attract general +attention. They were not showy, chattering girls, such as in all +companies attract a swarm of shallow-minded young fellows about +them. On the contrary, there was something retiring, almost shrinking +in their manner, that shunned rather than courted observation. And yet, +no one, who, attracted by their sweet, modest faces, found himself by +their side that did not feel inclined to linger there. +</P> + +<P> +"Who are those girls, Mrs. Lemmington?" asked Mrs. Marygold, meeting +the lady she addressed in crossing the room. +</P> + +<P> +"The two girls in the corner who are attracting so much attention?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you know them?" +</P> + +<P> +"I certainly do not." +</P> + +<P> +"They are no common persons, I can assure you, Mrs. Marygold." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, or they would not be found here. But who are they?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Mrs. Lemmington! how are you?" said a lady, coming up at this +moment, and interrupting the conversation. "I have been looking for +you this half hour." Then, passing her arm within that of the +individual she had addressed, she drew her aside before she had a +chance to answer Mrs. Marygold's question. +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes after, a gentleman handed Melinda to the piano, and +there was a brief pause as she struck the instrument, and commenced +going through the unintelligible intricacies of a fashionable piece +of music. She could strike all the notes with scientific correctness +and mechanical precision. But there was no more expression in her +performance than there is in that of a musical box. After she had +finished her task, she left the instrument with a few words of +commendation extorted by a feeling of politeness. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you not favor us with a song?" asked Mr. Harwood, going up to +one of the young ladies to whom allusion has just been made. +</P> + +<P> +"My sister sings, I do not," was the modest reply, "but I will take +pleasure in accompanying her." +</P> + +<P> +All eyes were fixed upon them as they moved towards the piano, +accompanied by Mr. Harwood, for something about their manners, +appearance and conversation, had interested nearly all in the room +who had been led to notice them particularly. The sister who could +not sing, seated herself with an air of easy confidence at the +instrument, while the other stood near her. The first few touches +that passed over the keys showed that the performer knew well how to +give to music a soul. The tones that came forth were not the simple +vibrations of a musical chord, but expressions of affection given by +her whose fingers woke the strings into harmony. But if the +preluding touches fell witchingly upon every ear, how exquisitely +sweet and thrilling was the voice that stole out low and tremulous +at first, and deepened in volume and expression every moment, until +the whole room seemed filled with melody! Every whisper was hushed, +and every one bent forward almost breathlessly to listen. And when, +at length, both voice and instrument were hushed into silence, no +enthusiastic expressions of admiration were heard, but only +half-whispered ejaculations of "exquisite!" "sweet!" "beautiful!" Then +came earnestly expressed wishes for another and another song, until +the sisters, feeling at length that many must be wearied with their +long continued occupation of the piano, felt themselves compelled to +decline further invitations to sing. No one else ventured to touch a +key of the instrument during the evening. +</P> + +<P> +"Do pray, Mrs. Lemmington, tell me who those girls are—I am dying +to know," said Mrs. Marygold, crossing the room to where the person +she addressed was seated with Mrs. Florence and several other ladies +of "distinction," and taking a chair by her side. +</P> + +<P> +"They are only common people," replied Mrs. Lemmington, with +affected indifference. +</P> + +<P> +"Common people, my dear madam! What do you mean by such an +expression?" said Mrs. Florence in surprise, and with something of +indignation latent in her tone. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure their father, Mr. Clayton, is nothing but a teacher." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Clayton! Surely those are not Clayton's daughters!" ejaculated +Mrs. Marygold, in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"They certainly are ma'am," replied Mrs. Florence in a quiet but +firm voice, for she instantly perceived, from something in Mrs. +Marygold's voice and manner, the reason why her friend had alluded +to them as common people. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, really, I am surprised that Mrs. Harwood should have invited +them to her house, and introduced them into genteel company." +</P> + +<P> +"Why so, Mrs. Marygold?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because, as Mrs. Lemmington has just said, they are common people. +Their father is nothing but a schoolmaster." +</P> + +<P> +"If I have observed them rightly," Mrs. Florence said to this, "I +have discovered them to be a rather uncommon kind of people. Almost +any one can thrum on the piano; but you will not find one in a +hundred who can perform with such exquisite grace and feeling as +they can. For half an hour this evening I sat charmed with their +conversation, and really instructed and elevated by the sentiments +they uttered. I cannot say as much for any other young ladies in the +room, for there are none others here above the common run of +ordinarily intelligent girls—none who may not really be classed +with common people in the true acceptation of the term." +</P> + +<P> +"And take them all in all," added Mrs. Lemmington with warmth, "you +will find nothing common about them. Look at their dress; see how +perfect in neatness, in adaptation of colors and arrangement to +complexion and shape, is every thing about them. Perhaps there will +not be found a single young lady in the room, besides them, whose +dress does not show something not in keeping with good taste. Take +their manners. Are they not graceful, gentle, and yet full of +nature's own expression. In a word, is there any thing about them +that is 'common?'" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing that my eye has detected," replied Mrs. Florence. +</P> + +<P> +"Except their origin," half-sneeringly rejoined Mrs. Marygold. +</P> + +<P> +"They were born of woman," was the grave remark. "Can any of us +boast a higher origin?" +</P> + +<P> +"There are various ranks among women," Mrs. Marygold said, firmly. +</P> + +<P> +"True. But, 'The rank is but the guinea's stamp, +The man's the gold for a' that.' +</P> + +<P> +"Mere position in society does not make any of us more or less a true +woman. I could name you over a dozen or more in my circle of +acquaintance, who move in what is called the highest rank; who, in +all that truly constitutes a woman, are incomparably below Mrs. +Clayton; who, if thrown with her among perfect strangers, would be +instantly eclipsed. Come then, Mrs. Marygold, lay aside all these +false standards, and estimate woman more justly. Let me, to begin, +introduce both yourself and Melinda to the young ladies this +evening. You will be charmed with them, I know, and equally charmed +with their mother when you know her." +</P> + +<P> +"No, ma'am," replied Mrs. Marygold, drawing herself up with a +dignified air. "I have no wish to cultivate their acquaintance, or +the acquaintance of any persons in their station. I am surprised +that Mrs. Harwood has not had more consideration for her friends +than to compel them to come in contact with such people." +</P> + +<P> +No reply was made to this; and the next remark of Mrs. Florence was +about some matter of general interest. +</P> + +<P> +"Henry Florence has not been here for a week," said Mrs. Marygold to +her daughter Melinda, some two months after the period at which the +conversation just noted occurred. +</P> + +<P> +"No; and he used to come almost every evening," was Melinda's reply, +made in a tone that expressed disappointment. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder what can be the reason?" Mrs. Marygold said, half aloud, +half to herself, but with evident feelings of concern. The reason of +her concern and Melinda's disappointment arose from the fact that +both had felt pretty sure of securing Henry Florence as a member of +the Marygold family—such connection, from his standing in society, +being especially desirable. +</P> + +<P> +At the very time the young man was thus alluded to by Mrs. Marygold +and her daughter, he sat conversing with his mother upon a subject +that seemed, from the expression of his countenance, to be of much +interest to him. +</P> + +<P> +"So you do not feel inclined to favor any preference on my part +towards Miss Marygold?" he said, looking steadily into his mother's +face. +</P> + +<P> +"I do not, Henry," was the frank reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"There is something too common about her, if I may so express +myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Too common! What do you mean by that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean that there is no distinctive character about her. She is, +like the large mass around us, a mere made-up girl." +</P> + +<P> +"Speaking in riddles." +</P> + +<P> +"I mean then, Henry, that her character has been formed, or made up, +by mere external accretions from the common-place, vague, and often +too false notions of things that prevail in society, instead of by +the force of sound internal principles, seen to be true from a +rational intuition, and acted upon because they are true. Cannot you +perceive the difference?" +</P> + +<P> +"O yes, plainly. And this is why you use the word 'common,' in +speaking of her?" +</P> + +<P> +"The reason. And now my son, can you not see that there is force in +my objection to her—that she really possess any character +distinctively her own, that is founded upon a clear and rational +appreciation of abstractly correct principles of action?" +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot say that I differ from you very widely," the young man +said, thoughtfully. "But, if you call Melinda 'common,' where shall +I go to find one who may be called 'uncommon?'" +</P> + +<P> +"I can point you to one." +</P> + +<P> +"Say on." +</P> + +<P> +"You have met Fanny Clayton?" +</P> + +<P> +"Fanny Clayton!" ejaculated the young man, taken by surprise, the +blood rising to his face. "O yes, I have met her." +</P> + +<P> +"She is no common girl, Henry," Mrs. Florence said, in a serious +voice. "She has not her equal in my circle of acquaintances." +</P> + +<P> +"Nor in mine either," replied the young man, recovering himself. +"But you would not feel satisfied to have your son address Miss +Clayton?" +</P> + +<P> +"And why not, pray? Henry, I have never met with a young lady whom I +would rather see your wife than Fanny Clayton." +</P> + +<P> +"And I," rejoined the young man with equal warmth, "never met with +any one whom I could truly love until I saw her sweet young face." +</P> + +<P> +"Then never think again of one like Melinda Marygold. You could not +be rationally happy with her." +</P> + +<P> +Five or six months rolled away, during a large portion of which time +the fact that Henry Florence was addressing Fanny Clayton formed a +theme for pretty free comment in various quarters. Most of Henry's +acquaintance heartily approved his choice; but Mrs. Marygold, and a +few like her, all with daughters of the "common" class, were deeply +incensed at the idea of a "common kind of a girl" like Miss Clayton +being forced into genteel society, a consequence that would of +course follow her marriage. Mrs. Marygold hesitated not to declare +that for her part, let others do as they liked, she was not going to +associate with her—that was settled. She had too much regard to +what was due to her station in life. As for Melinda, she had no very +kind feelings for her successful rival—and such a rival too! A mere +schoolmaster's daughter! And she hesitated not to speak of her often +and in no very courteous terms. +</P> + +<P> +When the notes of invitation to the wedding at length came, which +ceremony was to be performed in the house of Mr. Clayton, in +Sycamore Row, Mrs. Marygold declared that to send her an invitation +to go to such a place was a downright insult. As the time, however, +drew near, and she found that Mrs. Harwood and a dozen others +equally respectable in her eyes were going to the wedding, she +managed to smother her indignation so far as, at length, to make up +her mind to be present at the nuptial ceremonies. But it was not +until her ears were almost stunned by the repeated and earnestly +expressed congratulations to Mrs. Florence at the admirable choice +made by her son, and that too by those whose tastes and opinions she +dared not dispute, that she could perceive any thing even passable +in the beautiful young bride. +</P> + +<P> +Gradually, however, as the younger Mrs. Florence, in the process of +time, took her true position in the social circle, even Mrs. +Marygold could begin to perceive the intrinsic excellence of her +character, although even this was more a tacit assent to a universal +opinion than a discovery of her own. +</P> + +<P> +As for Melinda, she was married about a year after Fanny Clayton's +wedding, to a sprig of gentility with about as much force of +character as herself. This took place on the same night that Lieut. +Harwood, son of Mrs. Harwood before alluded to, led to the altar +Mary Clayton, the sister of Fanny, who was conceded by all, to be +the loveliest girl they had ever seen—lovely, not only in face and +form, but loveliness itself in the sweet perfections of moral +beauty. As for Lieut. Harwood, he was worthy of the heart he had +won. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="sensation"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MAKING A SENSATION. +</H3> + +<P> +"Do you intend going to Mrs. Walshingham's party, next week, +Caroline?" asked Miss Melvina Fenton of her friend Caroline Gay. "It +is said that it will be a splendid affair." +</P> + +<P> +"I have not made up my mind, Melvina." +</P> + +<P> +"O you'll go of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world." +</P> + +<P> +"I am much inclined to think that I will stay at home or spend my +evening in some less brilliant assemblage," Caroline Gay replied in +a quiet tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense, Caroline! There hasn't been such a chance to make a +sensation this season." +</P> + +<P> +"And why should I wish to make a sensation, Melvina?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because it's the only way to attract attention. Now-a-days, the +person who creates a sensation, secures the prize that a dozen +quiet, retiring individuals are looking and longing after, in vain. +We must dazzle if we would win." +</P> + +<P> +"That is, we must put on false colors, and deceive not only +ourselves, but others." +</P> + +<P> +"How strangely you talk, Caroline! Every one now is attracted by +show and <I>eclat</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"Not every one, I hope, Melvina." +</P> + +<P> +"Show me an exception." +</P> + +<P> +Caroline smiled as she answered, +</P> + +<P> +"Your friend Caroline, as you call her, I hope is one." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed! And I suppose I must believe you. But come, don't turn +Puritan. You are almost behind the age, as it is, and if you don't +take care, you will get clear out of date, and either live and die +an old maid, or have to put up with one of your quiet inoffensive +gentlemen who hardly dare look a real brilliant belle in the face." +</P> + +<P> +Caroline Gay could not help smiling at her friend's light bantering, +even while she felt inclined to be serious in consideration of the +false views of life that were influencing the conduct and affecting +the future prospects of one, whose many good qualities of heart, won +her love. +</P> + +<P> +"And if I should get off," she said, "with one of those quiet +gentlemen you allude to, it will be about the height of my +expectation." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you are a queer kind of a girl, any how! But, do you know why +I want to make a sensation at Mrs. Walshingham's?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. I would be pleased to hear." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I will just let you into a bit of a secret. I've set my heart +on making a conquest of Henry Clarence." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" ejaculated Caroline, with an emphasis that would have +attracted Melvina's attention, had her thoughts and feelings not +been at the moment too much engaged. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I have. He's so calm and cold, and rigidly polite to me +whenever we meet, that I am chilled with the frigid temperature of +the atmosphere that surrounds him. But as he is a prize worth the +trouble of winning, I have set my heart on melting him down, and +bringing him to my feet." +</P> + +<P> +Caroline smiled as her friend paused, but did not reply. +</P> + +<P> +"I know half a dozen girls now, who are breaking their hearts after +him," continued the maiden. "But I'll disappoint them all, if there +is power in a woman's winning ways to conquer. So you see, my lady +Gay—Grave it should be—that I have some of the strongest reasons +in the world, for wishing to be present at the 'come off' next week. +Now you'll go, won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps I will, if it's only to see the effect of your +demonstrations on the heart of Henry Clarence. But he is one of your +quiet, inoffensive gentlemen, Melvina. How comes it that you set him +as a prize?" +</P> + +<P> +"If he is quiet, there is fire in him. I've seen his eye flash, and +his countenance brighten with thought too often, not to know of what +kind of stuff he is made." +</P> + +<P> +"And if I were to judge of his character, he is not one to be caught +by effect," Caroline remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"O, as to that, all men have their weak side. There isn't one, trust +me, who can withstand the brilliant attractions of the belle of the +ball room, such as, pardon my vanity, I hope to be on next Tuesday +evening. I have seen a little of the world in my time, and have +always observed, that whoever can eclipse all her fair compeers at +one of these brilliant assemblages, possesses, for the time, a power +that may be used to advantage. All the beaux flock around her, and +vie with each other in kind attentions. If, then, she distinguish +some individual of them above the rest, by her marked reciprocation +of his attentions, he is won. The grateful fellow will never forsake +her." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite a reasoner, upon my word! And so in this way you intend +winning Henry Clarence?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I do. At least, I shall try hard." +</P> + +<P> +"And you will fail, I am much disposed to think." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not sure of that. Henry Clarence is but a man." +</P> + +<P> +"Yet he is too close an observer to be deceived into any strong +admiration of a ball-room belle." +</P> + +<P> +"You are behind the age, Caroline. Your quiet unobtrusiveness will I +fear cause you to be passed by, while some one not half so worthy, +will take the place which you should have held in the affections of +a good husband." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps so. But, I wish to be taken for what I am. I want no man, +who has not the good sense and discrimination to judge of my real +character." +</P> + +<P> +"You will die an old maid, Caroline." +</P> + +<P> +"That may be. But, in all sincerity, I must say that I hope not." +</P> + +<P> +"You will go to the ball, of course?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think I will, Melvina." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, that settled, what are you going to wear?" +</P> + +<P> +"Something plain and simple, of course. But I have not thought of +that." +</P> + +<P> +"O don't Caroline. You will make yourself singular." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope not, for I dislike singularity. But how are you going to +dress? Splendid, of course, as you expect to make a sensation." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll try my best, I can assure you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what kind of a dress are you going to appear in?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have ordered a robe of blue tulle, to be worn over blue silk. The +robe to be open in front, of course, and confined to the silk-skirt +with variegated roses." +</P> + +<P> +"And your head-dress?" +</P> + +<P> +"I shall have my hair ornamented with variegated roses, arranged +over the brow like a coronet. Now, how do you like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all." +</P> + +<P> +"O, of course not. I might have known that your taste was too +uneducated for that." +</P> + +<P> +"And I hope it will ever remain so, Melvina." +</P> + +<P> +"But how will <I>you</I> dress, Caroline. Do let me hear, that I may put +you right if you fix on any thing <I>outre</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, really, Melvina, I have not given the subject a thought. But +it never takes me long to choose. Let me see. A plain—" +</P> + +<P> +"Not plain, Caroline, for mercy sake!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. A plain white dress, of India muslin." +</P> + +<P> +"Plain white! O, don't Caroline—let me beg of you." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, white it shall be." +</P> + +<P> +"Plain white! Why nobody will see you!" +</P> + +<P> +"O, yes. Among all you gay butterflies, I will become the observed +of all observers," said Caroline, laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't flatter yourself. But you will have some pink trimming, will +you not?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, not a flower, nor ribbon, nor cord, nor tassel." +</P> + +<P> +"You will be an object of ridicule." +</P> + +<P> +"Not in a polite company of gentlemen and ladies, I hope!" +</P> + +<P> +"No; but—. And your head-dress, Caroline. That I hope will atone +for the rest." +</P> + +<P> +"No, my own dark hair, plain—" +</P> + +<P> +"For mercy sake, Caroline! Not plain." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, my hair plain." +</P> + +<P> +"And no ornament!" +</P> + +<P> +"O, yes—a very beautiful one." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, that may help a little. A ray of sunshine on a barren waste." +</P> + +<P> +"A simple sprig of buds and half blown flowers." +</P> + +<P> +"The color?" +</P> + +<P> +"White, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"You are an original, Caroline. But I suppose I can't make you +change your taste?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hope not, Melvina." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry that I shall be compelled to throw you so far in the +shade, my little Quakeress friend. The world will never know half +your real worth, Caroline. You are hiding your light. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Many a gem of purest ray serene,<BR> + The deep unfathomed caves of ocean bear—<BR> + Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,<BR> + And waste its sweetness on the desert air."<BR> +</P> + +<P> +And as she repeated these lines, applying them to her friend, +Melvina rose to depart. +</P> + +<P> +"You are resolved on trying to make a sensation, then?" said +Caroline. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, and what is more, I will succeed." +</P> + +<P> +"And win Henry Clarence?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hope so. He must be made of sterner stuff than I think him, if I +do not." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we shall see." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, we will. But good-bye; I must go to the mantua-maker's this +morning, to complete my orders." +</P> + +<P> +After Melvina Felton had gone, Caroline Gay's manner changed a good +deal. Her cheek, the color of which had heightened during her +conversation with her friend, still retained its beautiful glow, but +the expression of her usually calm face was changed, and slightly +marked by what seemed troubled thoughts. She sat almost motionless +for nearly two minutes, and then rose up slowly with a slight sigh, +and went to her chamber. +</P> + +<P> +It was early on the same evening that Henry Clarence, the subject of +her conversation with Melvina, called in, as he not unfrequently +did, to spend an hour in pleasant conversation with Caroline Gay. He +found her in the parlor reading. +</P> + +<P> +"At your books, I see," he remarked, in a pleasant tone, as he +entered. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; I find my thoughts need exciting by contact with the thoughts +of others. A good book helps us much sometimes." +</P> + +<P> +"You were reading a book then. May I ask its author?" +</P> + +<P> +"Degerando." +</P> + +<P> +"You are right in calling this a good book, Caroline," he said, +glancing at the title page, to which she had opened, as she handed +him the volume. "Self-education is a most important matter, and with +such a guide as Degerando, few can go wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"So I think. He is not so abstract, nor does he border on +transcendentalism, like Coleridge, who notwithstanding these +peculiarities I am yet fond of reading. Degerando opens for you your +own heart, and not only opens it, but gives you the means of +self-control at every point of your exploration." +</P> + +<P> +The beautiful countenance of Caroline was lit up by pure thoughts, +and Henry Clarence could not help gazing upon her with a lively +feeling of admiration. +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot but approve your taste," he said.—"But do you not also +read the lighter works of the day?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do not certainly pass all these by. I would lose much were I to +do so. But I read only a few, and those emanating from such minds as +James, Scott, and especially our own Miss Sedgwick. The latter is +particularly my favorite. Her pictures, besides being true to +nature, are pictures of home. The life she sketches, is the life +that is passing all around us—perhaps in the family, unknown to us, +who hold the relation of next door neighbors." +</P> + +<P> +"Your discrimination is just. After reading Miss Sedgwick, our +sympathies for our fellow creatures take a more humane range. We are +moved by an impulse to do good—to relieve the suffering—to +regulate our own action in regard to others by a higher and better +rule. You are a reader of the poets, too—and like myself, I +believe, are an admirer of Wordsworth's calm and deep sympathy with +the better and nobler principles of our nature." +</P> + +<P> +"The simple beauty of Wordsworth has ever charmed me. How much of +the good and true, like precious jewels set in gold, are scattered +thickly over his pages!" +</P> + +<P> +"And Byron and Shelly—can you not enjoy them?" Clarence asked, with +something of lively interest in her reply, expressed in his +countenance. +</P> + +<P> +"It were but an affectation to say that I can find nothing in them +that is beautiful, nothing to please, nothing to admire. I have read +many things in the writings of these men that were exquisitely +beautiful. Many portions of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage are not +surpassed for grandeur, beauty, and force, in the English language: +and the Alastor of Shelly, is full of passages of exquisite +tenderness and almost unequalled finish of versification. But I have +never laid either of them down with feelings that I wished might +remain. They excite the mind to a feverish and unhealthy action. We +find little in them to deepen our sympathies with our +fellows—little to make better the heart, or wiser the head." +</P> + +<P> +"You discriminate with clearness, Caroline," he said; "I did not +know that you looked so narrowly into the merits of the world's +favorites. But to change the subject; do you intend going to Mrs. +Walsingham's next week?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I think I will be there." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you fond of such assemblages?" the young man asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Not particularly so," Caroline replied. "But I think it right to +mingle in society, although all of its forms are not pleasant to +me." +</P> + +<P> +"And why do you mingle in it then, if its sphere is uncongenial?" +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot say, Mr. Clarence, that it is altogether uncongenial. +Wherever we go, into society, we come in contact with much that is +good. Beneath the false glitter, often assumed and worn without the +heart's being in it, but from a weak spirit of conformity, lies much +that is sound in principle, and healthy in moral life. In mingling, +then, in society, we aid to develope and strengthen these good +principles in others. We encourage, often, the weak and wavering, +and bring back such as are beginning to wander from the simple +dignity and truth of nature." +</P> + +<P> +"But is there not danger of our becoming dazzled by the false +glitter?" +</P> + +<P> +"There may be. But we need not fear this, if we settle in our minds +a right principle of action, and bind ourselves firmly to that +principle." +</P> + +<P> +A pause followed this last remark, and then the subject of +conversation was again changed to one of a more general nature. +</P> + +<P> +An evening or two after, Henry Clarence called in to see Melvina +Fenton. Melvina was what may be called a showy girl. Her +countenance, which was really beautiful, when animated, attracted +every eye. She had a constant flow of spirits, had dipped into many +books, and could make a little knowledge in these matters go a great +way. Clarence could not conceal from himself that he admired +Melvina, and, although his good sense and discrimination opposed +this admiration, he could rarely spend an evening with Miss Fenton, +without a strong prepossession in her favor. Still, with her, as +with every one, he maintained a consistency of character that +annoyed her. He could not be brought to flatter her in any way; and +for this she thought him cold, and often felt under restraint in his +society. One thing in her which he condemned, was her love of dress. +Often he would express a wonder to himself, how a young woman of her +good sense and information could be guilty of such a glaring +departure from true taste. +</P> + +<P> +On this evening she received him in her very best manner. And she +was skilful at acting; so skilful, as even to deceive the keen eye +of Henry Clarence. Fully resolved on making a conquest, she studied +his character, and tried to adapt herself to it. +</P> + +<P> +"I have your favorite here," she remarked, during the evening, +lifting a copy of Wordsworth from the centre table. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, indeed! so you have. Do you ever look into him, Miss Fenton?" +</P> + +<P> +"O yes. I did not know what a treasure was hid in this volume, +until, from hearing your admiration of Wordsworth, I procured and +read it with delighted interest." +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad that you are not disappointed. If you have a taste for +his peculiar style of thinking and writing, you have in that volume +an inexhaustible source of pleasure." +</P> + +<P> +"I have discovered that, Mr. Clarence, and must thank you for the +delight I have received, and I hope I shall continue to receive." +</P> + +<P> +Nearly two hours were spent by the young man in the company of Miss +Fenton, when he went away, more prepossessed in her favor than he +had yet been. She had played her part to admiration. The truth was, +Wordsworth, except in a few pieces, she had voted a dull book. By +tasking herself, she had mastered some passages, to which she +referred during the evening, and thus obtained credit for being far +more familiar with the poet of nature than she ever was or ever +would be. She went upon the principle of making a sensation, and +thus carrying hearts, or the heart she wished to assault, by storm. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe that I really love that girl," Henry Clarence said, on +the evening before the party at Mrs. Walsingham's to a young friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Who, Melvina Fenton?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"She is certainly a beautiful girl." +</P> + +<P> +"And interesting and intelligent." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—I know of no one who, in comparison with her, bears off the +palm." +</P> + +<P> +"And still, there is one thing about her that I do not like. She is +too fond of dress and display." +</P> + +<P> +"O, that is only a little foible. No one is altogether perfect." +</P> + +<P> +"True—and the fault with me is, in looking after perfection." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I think you expect too much." +</P> + +<P> +"She is affectionate, and that will make up for many deficiencies. +And what is more, I can see plainly enough that her heart is +interested. The brightening of her cheek, the peculiar expression of +her eye, not to be mistaken, when certain subjects are glanced at, +convince me that I have only to woo to win her." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think of Caroline Gay?" asked his friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, really, I can hardly tell what to think of her. She has +intelligence, good sense, and correct views on almost every subject. +But she is the antipodes of Melvina in feeling. If she were not so +calm and cold, I could love her; but I do not want a stoic for a +wife. I want a heart that will leap to my own, and send its emotion +to the cheek and eye." +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid you will not find an angel in this world," his friend +said, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"No, nor do I want an angel. But I want as perfect a woman as I can +get." +</P> + +<P> +"You will have to take Melvina, then, for she has three exceeding +good qualities, at least, overshadowing all others." +</P> + +<P> +"And what are they?" +</P> + +<P> +"Beauty." +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"An affectionate heart." +</P> + +<P> +"Something to be desired above every thing else. And her next good +quality?" +</P> + +<P> +"Her father is worth a 'plum.'" +</P> + +<P> +"I would dispense with that, were she less fond of show, and effect, +and gay company." +</P> + +<P> +"O, they are only the accompaniments of girlhood. As a woman and a +wife, she will lay them all aside." +</P> + +<P> +"I should certainly hope so, were I going to link my lot with hers." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I thought your mind was made up." +</P> + +<P> +"Not positively. I must look on a little longer, and scan a little +closer before I commit myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, success to your marrying expedition. I belong yet to the free +list." +</P> + +<P> +In due time Mrs. Walshingham's splendid affair came off. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't she an elegant woman!" exclaimed a young man in an under +tone, to a friend, who stood near Henry Clarence, as Melvina swept +into the room dressed in a style of elegance and effect that +attracted every eye. +</P> + +<P> +"Beautiful!" responded his companion. "I must dance with her +to-night. I always make a point to have one round at least with the +belle of the ball-room." +</P> + +<P> +The individual who last spoke, was well known to all in that room as +the betrayer of innocence. And Henry Clarence felt his cheek burn +and his heart bound with an indignant throb as he heard this remark. +</P> + +<P> +"He will be disappointed, or I am mistaken," he said to himself as +the two, who had been conversing near him, moved to another part of +the room. "But if Melvina Fenton has so little of that sensitive +innocence, that shrinks from the presence of guilt as to dance with +him, and suffer her hand to be touched by his, my mind is made up. I +will never marry her." +</P> + +<P> +"She is the queen of beauty to-night, Clarence," said a friend +coming to Henry's side, and speaking in an under tone. +</P> + +<P> +"She is, indeed, very beautiful; but I cannot help thinking a little +too showy. Her dress would be very good for the occasion were those +variegated roses taken from their blue ground. Flowers never grow on +such a soil; and her head dress is by far too conspicuous, and by no +means in good taste." +</P> + +<P> +"Why you are critical to-night, Clarence. I thought Melvina one of +your favorites?" +</P> + +<P> +"I must confess a little good will towards her, and perhaps that is +the reason of my being somewhat particular in my observation of her +style of dress. Certainly, she makes a most decided sensation here +to-night; for every eye is upon her, and every tongue, that I have +yet heard speak is teeming with words of admiration." +</P> + +<P> +"That she does," responded the friend. "Every other girl in the room +will be dying of envy or neglect before the evening is over." +</P> + +<P> +"That would speak little for the gallantry of the men or the good +sense of the young ladies," was the quiet reply. +</P> + +<P> +Several times the eye of Henry Clarence wandered around the room in +search of Caroline—but he did not see her in the gay assemblage. +</P> + +<P> +"She told me she would be here," he mentally said, "and I should +really like to mark the contrast between her and the brilliant Miss +Fenton. Oh! there she is, as I live, leaning on the arm of her +father, the very personification of innocence and beauty. But her +face is too calm by half. I fear she is cold." +</P> + +<P> +Truly was she as Henry Clarence had said, the personification of +innocence and beauty. Her dress of snowy whiteness, made perfectly +plain, and fitting well a figure that was rather delicate, but of +exquisite symmetry, contrasted beautifully with the gay and +flaunting attire of those around her. Her head could boast but a +single ornament, besides her own tastefully arranged hair, and that +was a sprig of buds and half-blown flowers as white as the dress she +had chosen for the evening. Her calm sweet face looked sweeter and +more innocent than ever, for the contrast of the whole scene +relieved her peculiar beauty admirably. +</P> + +<P> +"An angel?" ejaculated a young man by the side of Clarence, moving +over towards the part of the room where Caroline stood, still +leaning on the arm of her father. +</P> + +<P> +"We wanted but you to make our tableau complete," he said, with a +graceful bow. "Let me relieve you, Mr. Gay, of the care of this +young lady," he added offering his arm to Caroline—and in the next +minute he had joined the promenade with the sweetest creature in the +room by his side. +</P> + +<P> +The beautiful contrast that was evident to all, between Caroline, +the plainest-dressed maiden in the room, and Melvina the gayest and +most imposing, soon drew all eyes upon the former, and Melvina had +the discrimination to perceive that she had a rival near the throne, +in one whom she little dreamed of fearing; and whose innocent heart +she knew too well to accuse of design. +</P> + +<P> +Soon cotillion parties were formed, and among the first to offer his +hand to Melvina, was a young man named Sheldon, the same alluded to +as declaring that he would dance with her, as he always did with the +belle of the ball room. Melvina knew his character well, and Henry +Clarence was aware that she possessed this knowledge. His eye was +upon her, and she knew it. But she did not know of the determination +that he formed or else she would have hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"The most splendid man in the room, and the most graceful dancer," +were the thoughts that glanced through her mind, as she smiled an +assent to his invitation to become his partner. "I shall not yet +lose my power." +</P> + +<P> +And now all eyes were again upon the brilliant beauty threading the +mazy circles, with glowing cheek and sparkling eye. And few thought +of blaming her for dancing with Sheldon, whose character ought to +have banished him from virtuous society. But there was one whose +heart sickened as he looked on, and that one was Henry Clarence. He +lingered near the group of dancers but a few minutes, and then +wandered away to another room. +</P> + +<P> +"Permit me to transfer my company, Mr. Clarence," said the young man +who had thus far monopolized the society of Caroline Gay. "I will +not be selfish; and besides, I fear I am becoming too dull for my +fair friend here." +</P> + +<P> +With a bow and a smile, Clarence received on his arm the fair girl. +He felt for her a tenderer regard than had heretofore warmed his +heart, as he strolled through the rooms and listened to her sweet, +penetrating voice. And whenever he turned and looked her in the +face, he saw that in the expression of her eyes which he had never +marked before—something of tenderness that made his own heart beat +with a quicker motion. As they drew near the dancers, they observed +Sheldon with Melvina leaning on his arm, and two or three others, +engaged in making up another cotillion. +</P> + +<P> +"We want but one more couple, and here they are," said Sheldon, as +Clarence and Caroline came up. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you join this set?" asked Clarence, in a low tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Not <I>this</I> one," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Gay does not wish to dance now," her companion said, and they +moved away. +</P> + +<P> +But the cotillion was speedily formed without them, and the dance +proceeded. +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour after, while Henry Clarence and Caroline were sitting +on a lounge, engaged in close conversation, Sheldon came up, and +bowing in his most graceful manner, and, with his blandest smile, +said, +</P> + +<P> +"Can I have the pleasure of dancing with Miss Gay, this evening?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir," was the quiet, firm reply of the maiden, while she looked +him steadily in the face. +</P> + +<P> +Sheldon turned hurriedly away, for he understood the rebuke, the +first he had yet met with in the refined, fashionable, virtuous +society of one of the largest of the Atlantic cities. +</P> + +<P> +The heart of Henry Clarence blessed the maiden by his side. +</P> + +<P> +"You are not averse to dancing, Caroline?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"O no. But I do not dance with <I>every</I> one." +</P> + +<P> +"In that you are right, and I honor your decision and independence +of character." +</P> + +<P> +During the remainder of the evening, she danced several times, more +frequently with Henry than with any other, but never in a cotillion +of which Sheldon was one of the partners. Much to the pain and alarm +of Melvina, Clarence did not offer to dance with her once; and long +before the gay assemblage broke up, her appearance had failed to +produce any sensation. The eye tired of viewing her gaudy trapping, +and turned away unsatisfied. But let Caroline go where she would, +she was admired by all. None wearied of her chaste, simple and +beautiful attire; none looked upon her mild, innocent face, without +an expression, tacit or aloud, of admiration. Even the rebuked, and +for a time angered, Sheldon, could not help ever and anon seeking +her out amid the crowd, and gazing upon her with a feeling of +respect that he tried in vain to subdue. +</P> + +<P> +Melvina had sought to produce a "sensation" by gay and imposing +attire, and after a brief and partial success, lost her power. But +Caroline, with no wish to be noticed, much less to be the reigning +belle of the evening, consulting her own pure taste, went in simple +garments, and won the spontaneous admiration of all, and, what was +more, the heart of Henry Clarence. He never, after that evening, +could feel any thing of his former tenderness towards Melvina +Felton. The veil had fallen from his eyes. He saw the difference +between the desire of admiration, and a simple love of truth and +honor, too plainly, to cause him to hesitate a moment longer in his +choice between two so opposite in their characters. And yet, to the +eye of an inattentive observer nothing occurred during the progress +of Mrs. Walshingham's party more than ordinarily takes place on such +occasions. All seemed pleased and happy, and Melvina the happiest of +the whole. And yet she had signally failed in her well-laid scheme +to take the heart of Henry Clarence—while Caroline, with no such +design, and in simply following the promptings of a pure heart and a +right taste, had won his affectionate regard. +</P> + +<P> +It was some three or four months after the party at Mrs. +Walshingham's, that Melvina Fenton and Caroline Gay were alone in +the chamber of the latter, in close and interested conversation. +</P> + +<P> +"I have expected as much," the former said, in answer to some +communication made to her by the latter. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you are not surprised?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all." +</P> + +<P> +"And I hope not pained by the intelligence?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, Caroline, not now," her friend said, smiling; "though two or +three months ago it would have almost killed me. I, too, have been +wooed and won." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed! That is news. And who is it, Melvina? I am eager to know." +</P> + +<P> +"Martin Colburn." +</P> + +<P> +"A gentleman, and every way worthy of your hand. But how in the +world comes it that so quiet and modest a young man as Martin has +now the dashing belle?" +</P> + +<P> +"It has occurred quite naturally, Caroline. The dashing belle has +gained a little more good sense than she had a few months ago. She +has not forgotten the party at Mrs. Walshingham's. And by the bye, +Caroline, how completely you out-generalled me on that occasion. I +had a great mind for a while never to forgive you." +</P> + +<P> +"You are altogether mistaken, Melvina," Caroline said, with a +serious air. "I did not act a part on that occasion. I went but in +my true character, and exhibited no other." +</P> + +<P> +"It was nature, then, eclipsing art; truth of character outshining +the glitter of false assumption. But all that is past, and I am +wiser and better for it, I hope. You will be happy, I know, with +Henry Clarence, for he is worthy of you, and can appreciate your +real excellence; and I shall be happy, I trust, with the man of my +choice." +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt of it, Melvina. And by the way," Caroline said, laughing, +"we shall make another 'sensation,' and then we must be content to +retire into peaceful domestic obscurity. You will have a brilliant +time, I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"O yes. I must try my hand at creating one more sensation, the last +and most imposing; and, as my wedding comes the first, you must be +my bridesmaid. You will not refuse?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not if we can agree as to how we are to dress. We ought to be alike +in this, and yet I can never consent to appear in any thing but what +is plain, and beautiful for its simplicity." +</P> + +<P> +"You shall arrange all these. You beat me the last time in creating +a sensation, and now I will give up to your better taste." +</P> + +<P> +And rarely has a bride looked sweeter than did Melvina Fenton on her +wedding-day. Still, she was eclipsed by Caroline, whose native grace +accorded so well with her simple attire, that whoever looked upon +her, looked again, and to admire. The "sensation" they created was +not soon forgotten. +</P> + +<P> +Caroline was married in a week after, and then the fair heroines of +our story passed from the notice of the fashionable world, and were +lost with the thousands who thus yearly desert the gay circles, and +enter the quiet sphere and sweet obscurity of domestic life. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="cold"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SOMETHING FOR A COLD. +</H3> + +<P> +"Henry," said Mr. Green to his little son Henry, a lad in his eighth +year, "I want you to go to the store for me." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Green was a working-man, who lived in a comfortable cottage, +which he had built from money earned from honest industry. He was, +moreover, a sober, kind-hearted man, well liked by all his +neighbors, and beloved by his own family. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm ready, father," said Henry, who left his play, and went to look +for his cap, the moment he was asked to go on an errand. +</P> + +<P> +"Look in the cupboard, and get the pint flask. It's on the lower +shelf." +</P> + +<P> +Henry did as desired, and then asked—"What shall I get, father?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tell Mr. Brady to send me a pint of good Irish whiskey." +</P> + +<P> +The boy tripped lightly away, singing as he went. He was always +pleased to do an errand for his father. +</P> + +<P> +"This cold of mine gets worse," remarked Mr. Green to his wife, as +Henry left the house. "I believe I'll try old Mr. Vandeusen's +remedy—a bowl of hot whiskey-punch. He says it always cures him; it +throws him into a free perspiration, and the next morning he feels +as clear as a bell." +</P> + +<P> +"It is not always good," remarked Mrs. Green, "to have the pores +open. We are more liable to take cold." +</P> + +<P> +"Very true. It is necessary to be careful how we expose ourselves +afterwards." +</P> + +<P> +"I think I can make you some herb-tea, that would do you as much +good as the whiskey punch," said Mrs. Green. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you could," returned her husband, "but I don't like your +bitter stuff. It never was to my fancy." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Green smiled, and said no more. +</P> + +<P> +"A few moments afterwards, the door opened, and Henry came in, +looking pale and frightened. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, father!" he cried, panting, "Mr. Brooks is killing Margaret!" +</P> + +<P> +"What!" Mr. Green started to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" exclaimed the child, "he's killing her! he's killing her! I +saw him strike her on the head with his fist." And tears rolled over +the boy's cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +Knowing Brooks to be a violent man when intoxicated, Mr. Green lost +not a moment in hesitation or reflection, but left his house +hurriedly, and ran to the dwelling of his neighbor, which was near +at hand. On entering the house, a sad scene presented itself. The +oldest daughter of Brooks, a girl in her seventeenth year, was lying +upon a bed, insensible, while a large bruised and bloody spot on the +side of her face showed where the iron fist of her brutal father had +done its fearful if not fatal work. Her mother bent over her, +weeping; while two little girls were shrinking with frightened looks +into a corner of the room. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Green looked around for the wretched man, who, in the insanity +of drunkenness, had done this dreadful deed; but he was not to be +seen. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is Mr. Brooks?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"He has gone for the doctor," was replied. +</P> + +<P> +And in a few minutes he came in with a physician. He was partially +sobered, and his countenance had a troubled expression. His eyes +shrunk beneath the steady, rebuking gaze of his neighbors. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you say your daughter had fallen down stairs?" said the doctor, +as he leaned over Margaret, and examined the dreadful bruise on her +cheek. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—yes," stammered the guilty father, adding this falsehood to +the evil act. +</P> + +<P> +"Had the injury been a few inches farther up, she would ere this +have breathed her last," said the doctor—looking steadily at +Brooks, until the eyes of the latter sunk to the floor. +</P> + +<P> +Just then there were signs of returning life in the poor girl, and +the doctor turned towards her all his attention. In a little while, +she began to moan, and moved her arms about, and soon opened her +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +After she was fully restored again to conscious life, Mr. Green +returned to his home, where he was met with eager questions from his +wife.—After describing all he had seen, he made this remark— +</P> + +<P> +"There are few better men than Thomas Brooks when he it sober; but +when he is drunk he acts like a demon." +</P> + +<P> +"He must be a demon to strike with his hard fist, a delicate +creature like his daughter Margaret. And she is so good a girl. Ah, +me! to what dreadful consequences does this drinking lead!" +</P> + +<P> +"It takes away a man's reason," said Mr. Green, "and when this is +gone, he becomes the passive subject of evil influences. He is, in +fact, no longer a man." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Green sighed deeply. +</P> + +<P> +"His poor wife!" she murmured; "how my heart aches for her, and his +poor children! If the husband and father changes, from a guardian +and provider for his family, into their brutal assailant, to whom +can they look for protection? Oh, it is sad! sad!" +</P> + +<P> +"It is dreadful! dreadful!" said Mr. Green.— +</P> + +<P> +"It is only a few years ago," he added, "since Brooks began to show +that he was drinking too freely. He always liked his glass, but he +knew how to control himself, and never drowned his reason in his +cups. Of late, however, he seems to have lost all control over +himself. I never saw a man abandon himself so suddenly." +</P> + +<P> +"All effects of this kind can be traced back to very small +beginnings," remarked Mrs. Green. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. A man does not become a drunkard in a day. The habit is one of +very gradual formation." +</P> + +<P> +"But when once formed," said Mrs. Green, "hardly any power seems +strong enough to break it. It clings to a man as if it were a part +of himself." +</P> + +<P> +"And we might almost say that it was a part of himself," replied Mr. +Green: "for whatever we do from a confirmed habit, fixes in the mind +an inclination thereto, that carries us away as a vessel is borne +upon the current of a river." +</P> + +<P> +"How careful, then, should every one be, not to put himself in the +way of forming so dangerous a habit. Well do I remember when Mr. +Brooks was married. A more promising young man could not be +found—nor one with a kinder heart. The last evil I feared for him +and his gentle wife was that of drunkenness. Alas! that this +calamity should have fallen upon their household.—What evil, short +of crime, is greater than this?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is so hopeless," remarked Mr. Green. "I have talked with Brooks +a good many times, but it has done no good. He promises amendment, +but does not keep his promise a day." +</P> + +<P> +"Touch not, taste not, handle not. This is the only safe rule," said +Mrs. Green. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I believe it," returned her husband.—"The man who never +drinks is in no danger of becoming a drunkard." +</P> + +<P> +For some time, Mr. and Mrs. Green continued to converse about the +sad incident which had just transpired in the family of their +neighbor, while their little son, upon whose mind the fearful sight +he had witnessed was still painfully vivid, sat and listened to all +they were saying, with a clear comprehension of the meaning of the +whole. +</P> + +<P> +After awhile the subject was dropped. There had been a silence of +some minutes, when the attention of Mr. Green was again called to +certain unpleasant bodily sensations, and he said— +</P> + +<P> +"I declare! this cold of mine is very bad. I must do something to +break it before it gets worse. Henry, did you get that Irish whiskey +I sent for?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir," replied the child, "I was so frightened when I saw Mr. +Brooks strike Margaret, that I ran back." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well, I don't wonder! It was dreadful. Mr. Brooks was very +wicked to do so. But take the flask and run over to the store. Tell +Brady that I want a pint of good Irish whiskey." +</P> + +<P> +Henry turned from his father, and went to the table on which he had +placed the flask. He did not move with his usual alacrity. +</P> + +<P> +"It was whiskey, wasn't it," said the child, as he took the bottle +in his hand, "that made Mr. Brooks strike Margaret?" And he looked +so earnestly into his father's face, and with so strange an +expression, that the man felt disturbed, while he yet wondered at +the manner of the lad. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Mr. Green, "it was the whiskey. Mr. Brooks, if he had +been sober, would not have hurt a hair of her head." +</P> + +<P> +Henry looked at the bottle, then at his father, in so strange a way, +that Mr. Green, who did not at first comprehend what was in the +child's thoughts wondered still more. All was soon understood, for +Harry, bursting into tears, laid down the flask, and, throwing his +arms around his father's neck, said— +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, father! don't get any whiskey!" +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Green deeply touched by the incident, hugged his boy tightly to +his bosom. He said— +</P> + +<P> +"I only wanted it for medicine, dear. But, never mind. I won't let +such dangerous stuff come into my house. Mother shall make me some +of her herb-tea, and that will do as well." +</P> + +<P> +Henry looked up, after a while, timidly.—"You're not angry with me, +father?" came from his innocent lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no, my child! Why should I be angry?" replied Mr. Green, +kissing the cheek of his boy. Then the sunshine came back again to +Henry's heart, and he was happy as before. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Green made the herb-tea for her husband, and it proved quite as +good for him as the whiskey-punch. A glass or two of cold water, on +going to bed, would probably have been of more real advantage in the +case, than either of these doubtful remedies. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="portrait"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE PORTRAIT. +</H3> + +<P> +"BLESS the happy art!" ejaculated Mrs. Morton, wiping the moisture +from her eyes. "Could anything be more perfect than that likeness of +his sweet, innocent face? Dear little Willie! I fear I love him too +much." +</P> + +<P> +"It is indeed perfect," said Mr. Morton, after viewing the picture +in many lights. "My favourite painter has surpassed himself. What +could be more like life, than that gentle, half-pensive face looking +so quiet and thoughtful, and yet so full of childhood's most +innocent, happy expression?" +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Morton, here introduced to the reader, was a wealthy merchant of +Philadelphia, and a liberal patron of the arts. He had, already, +obtained several pictures from Sully, who was, with him, as an +artist, a great favourite. The last order had just been sent home. +It was a portrait of his youngest, and favourite child—a sweet +little boy, upon whose head three summers had not yet smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"I would not take the world for it!" said Mrs. Morton after looking +at it long and steadily for the hundredth time. "Dear little fellow! +A year from now, and how changed he will be. And every year he will +be changing and changing; but this cannot alter, and even from the +period of manhood, we may look back and see our Willie's face when +but a child." +</P> + +<P> +"Every one who is able," remarked Mr. Morton, "should have the +portraits of his children taken. What better legacy could a father +leave to his child, than the image of his own innocent face! Surely, +it were enough to drive away thoughts of evil, and call up old and +innocent affections, for any man, even the man of crime, to look for +but a moment upon the image of what he was in childhood." +</P> + +<P> +"And yet there are some," added Mrs. Morton, "who call portraits, +and indeed, all paintings, mere luxuries—meaning, thereby, +something that is utterly useless." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, there are such, but even they, it seems to me, might perceive +their use in preserving the innocent features of their children. The +good impressions made in infancy and childhood, are rarely if ever +lost; they come back upon every one at times, and are, frequently, +all-powerful in the influence they exert against evil. How like a +spell to call back those innocent thoughts and affections, would be +the image of a man's face in childhood! No one, it seems to me, +could resist its influence." +</P> + +<P> +One, two, and three years passed away, and every one wrought some +change upon "little Willie," but each change seemed to the fond +parents an improvement,—yet, did they not look back to earlier +years, as they glanced at his picture, with less of tender emotion, +and heart-stirring delight. But now a sad change, the saddest of all +changes that occur, took place. Disease fastened upon the child, and +ere the parents, and fond sisters of a younger and only brother, +were fully sensible of danger, the spirit of the child had fled. We +will not linger to pain the reader with any minute description of +the deep and abiding grief that fell, like a shadow from an evil +wing overspreading them, upon the household of Mr. Morton, but pass +on to scenes more exciting, if not less moving to the heart. +</P> + +<P> +For many weeks, Mrs. Morton could not trust herself to look up to +the picture that still hung in its place, the picture of her lost +one. But after time had, in some degree, mellowed the grief that +weighed down her spirits, she found a melancholy delight in gazing +intently upon the beautiful face that was still fresh and +unchanged—that still looked the impersonation of innocence. +</P> + +<P> +"He was too pure and too lovely for the earth," she said, one day, +to her husband, about two months after his death, leaning her head +upon his shoulder—"and so the angels took him." +</P> + +<P> +"Then do not grieve for him," Mr. Morton replied in a soothing tone. +"We know that he is with the angels, and where they are, is neither +evil, nor sorrow, nor pain. Much as I loved him, much as I grieved +for his loss, I would not recall him if I could. But, our picture +cannot die. And though it is mute and inanimate, yet it is something +to awaken remembrances, that, even though sad, we delight to +cherish. It is something to remind us, that we have a child in +heaven." +</P> + +<P> +But the loss of their child seemed but the beginning of sorrows to +Mr. Morton and his family. An unexpected series of failures in +business so fatally involved him, that extrication became +impossible. He was an honest man, and therefore, this sudden +disastrous aspect of affairs was doubly painful, for he knew no +other course but the honourable giving up of everything. On learning +the whole truth in relation to his business, he came home, and after +opening the sad news to his wife, he called his family around him. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear children," he said, "I have painful news to break to you; +but you cannot know it too soon. Owing to a succession of heavy +failures, my business has become embarrassed beyond hope. I must +give up all,—even our comfortable and elegant home must be changed +for one less expensive, and less comfortable. Can you, my children, +bear with cheerfulness and contentment such a changed condition?" +</P> + +<P> +The heart of each one had already been subdued and chastened by the +affliction that removed the little playmate of all so suddenly away, +and now the news of a painful and unlooked-for reverse came with a +shock that, for a few moments, bewildered and alarmed. +</P> + +<P> +"Are not my children willing to share the good and evil of life with +their father?" Mr. Morton resumed after the gush of tears that +followed the announcement of his changed fortunes had in a degree +subsided. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, dear father! be they what they may," Constance, the eldest, a +young lady in her seventeenth year, said, looking up affectionately +through her tears. +</P> + +<P> +Mary, next in years, pressed up to her father's side, and twining an +arm around his neck, kissed his forehead tenderly. She did not +speak; for her heart was too full; but it needed no words to assure +him that her love was as true as the needle to the pole. +</P> + +<P> +Eliza, but twelve, and like an unfolding bud half revealing the +loveliness and beauty within, could not fully comprehend the whole +matter. But enough she did understand, to know that her father was +in trouble, and this brought her also to his side. +</P> + +<P> +"Do not think of us, dear father!" Constance said, after the pause +of a few oppressive moments. "Let the change be what it may, it +cannot take from us our father's love, and our father's honourable +principles. Nor can it change the true affection of his children. I +feel as if I could say, With my father I could go unto prison or to +death." +</P> + +<P> +The father was much moved. "That trial, my dear children, I trust +you may never be called upon to meet. The whole extent of the +painful one into which you are about to enter, you cannot now +possibly realize, and I earnestly hope that your hearts may not fail +you while passing through the deep waters. But one thought may +strengthen; think that by your patience and cheerfulness, your +father's burdens will be lightened. He cannot see you pained without +suffering a double pang himself." +</P> + +<P> +"Trust us, father," was the calm, earnest, affectionate reply of +Constance; and it was plain, by the deep resolution expressed in the +faces of her sisters, that she spoke for them as well as herself. +</P> + +<P> +And now, the shadow that was obscuring their earthly prospects, +began to fall thicker upon them. At the meeting of his creditors +which was called, he gave a full statement of his affairs. +</P> + +<P> +"And now," he said, "I am here to assign everything. In consequence +of heavy, and you all must see, unavoidable, losses, this assignment +will include all my property, and still leave a small deficiency. +Beyond that, I can only hope for success in my future exertions, and +pledge that success in anticipation. Can I do more?" +</P> + +<P> +"We could not ask for more certainly," was the cold response of a +single individual, made in a tone of voice implying no sympathy with +the debtor's misfortunes, but rather indicating disappointment that +the whole amount of his claim could not be made out of the assets. +</P> + +<P> +Some degree of sympathy, some kind consideration for his painful +condition Mr. Morton naturally looked for, but nearly every kind +emotion for him was stifled by the sordid disappointment which each +one of his former business friends felt in losing what they valued, +as their feelings indicated, above everything else—their money. +</P> + +<P> +"When will the assignment be made?" was the next remark. +</P> + +<P> +"Appoint your trustees, and I am ready at any moment." +</P> + +<P> +Trustees were accordingly appointed, and these had a private +conference with, and received their instructions from the creditors. +In a week they commenced their work of appraisement. After a +thorough and careful examination into accounts, deeds, mortgages, +and documents of various kinds, and becoming satisfied that every +thing was as Mr. Morton had stated it, it was found that the +property represented by these would cover ninety cents in the +dollar. +</P> + +<P> +"Your furniture and plate comes next," said one of the trustees. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Morton bowed and said, while his heart sunk in his bosom— +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow I will be ready for that." +</P> + +<P> +"But why not to-day?" inquired one of the trustees. "We are anxious +to get through with this unpleasant business." +</P> + +<P> +"I said to-morrow," Mr. Morton replied, while a red spot burned upon +his cheek. +</P> + +<P> +The trustees looked at each other, and hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely," said the debtor, "you cannot hesitate to let me have a +single day in which to prepare my family for so painful a duty as +that which is required of me." +</P> + +<P> +"We should suppose," remarked one of the trustees, in reply, "that +your family were already prepared for that." +</P> + +<P> +The debtor looked the last speaker searchingly in the face for some +moments, and then said, as if satisfied with the examination— +</P> + +<P> +"Then you are afraid that I will make way, in the mean time, with +some of my plate!" +</P> + +<P> +"I did not say so, Mr. Morton. But, you know we are under oath to +protect the interest of the creditors." +</P> + +<P> +An indignant reply trembled on the lips of Morton, but he curbed his +feelings with a strong effort. +</P> + +<P> +"I am ready now," he said, after a few moments of hurried +self-communion. "The sooner it is over the better." +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour after he entered his house with the trustees, and sworn +appraiser. He left them in the parlour below, while he held a brief +but painful interview with his family. +</P> + +<P> +"Do not distress yourself, dear father!" Constance said, laying her +hand upon his shoulder. "We expected this, and have fully nerved +ourselves for the trial." +</P> + +<P> +"May he who watches over, and regards us all, bless you, my +children!" the father said with emotion, and hurriedly left them. +</P> + +<P> +A careful inventory of the costly furniture that adorned the +parlours was first taken. The plate was then displayed, rich and +beautiful, and valued; and then the trustees lifted their eyes to +the wall—they were connoisseurs in the fine arts; at least one of +them was, but a taste for the arts had, in his case, failed to +soften his feelings. He looked at a picture much as a dealer in +precious stones looks at a diamond, to determine its money-value. +</P> + +<P> +"That is from Guido," he said, looking admiringly at a sweet +picture, which had always been a favourite of Mr. Morton's, "and it +is worth a hundred dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I put it down at that?" asked the appraiser, who had little +experience in valuing pictures. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; put it down at one hundred. It will bring that under the +hammer, any day," replied the connoisseur. "Ah, what have we here? A +copy from Murillo's 'Good Shepherd.' Isn't that a lovely picture? +Worth a hundred and fifty, every cent. And here is 'Our Saviour,' +from Da Vinci's celebrated picture of the Last Supper; and a +'Magdalen' from Correggio. You are a judge of pictures, I see, Mr. +Morton! But what is this?" he said, eyeing closely a large +engraving, richly framed. +</P> + +<P> +"A proof, as I live! from the only plate worth looking at of +Raphael's Madonna of St. Sixtus. I'll give fifty dollars for that, +myself." +</P> + +<P> +The pictures named were all entered up by the appraiser, and then +the group continued their examination. +</P> + +<P> +"Here is a Sully," remarked the trustee above alluded to, pausing +before Willie's portrait. +</P> + +<P> +"But that is a portrait," Mr. Morton said, advancing, while his +heart leaped with a new and sudden fear. +</P> + +<P> +"If it is, Mr. Morton, it is a valuable picture, worth every cent of +two hundred dollars. We cannot pass that, Sir." +</P> + +<P> +"What!" exclaimed Mr. Morton, "take my Willie's portrait? O no, you +cannot do that!" +</P> + +<P> +"It is no doubt a hard case, Mr. Morton," said one of the trustees. +"But we must do our duty, however painful. That picture is a most +beautiful one, and by a favourite artist, and will bring at least +two hundred dollars. It is not a necessary article of household +furniture, and is not covered by the law. We should be censured, and +justly too, if we were to pass it." +</P> + +<P> +For a few moments, Mr. Morton's thoughts were so bewildered and his +feelings so benumbed by the sudden and unexpected shock, that he +could not rally his mind enough to decide what to say or how to act. +To have the unfeeling hands of creditors, under the sanction of the +law, seize upon his lost Willie's portrait, was to him so unexpected +and sacrilegious a thing, that he could scarcely realize it, and he +stood wrapt in painful, dreamy abstraction, until roused by the +direction, +</P> + +<P> +"Put it down at a hundred and fifty," given to the appraiser, by one +of the trustees. +</P> + +<P> +"Are your hearts made of iron?" he asked bitterly, roused at once +into a distinct consciousness of what was transpiring. +</P> + +<P> +"Be composed, Mr. Morton," was the cold, quiet reply. +</P> + +<P> +"And thus might the executioner say to the victim he was +torturing—<I>Be composed</I>. But surely, when I tell you that that +picture is the likeness of my youngest child, now no more, you will +not take it from us. To lose that, would break his mother's heart. +Take all the rest, and I will not murmur. But in the name of +humanity spare me the portrait of my angel boy." +</P> + +<P> +There was a brief, cold, silent pause, and the trustees continued +their investigations. Sick at heart, Mr. Morton turned from them and +sought his family. The distressed, almost agonized expression of his +countenance was noticed, as he came into the chamber where they had +retired. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it all over?" asked Mrs. Morton. +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet," was the sad answer. +</P> + +<P> +The mother and daughter knew how much their father prized his choice +collection of pictures, and supposed that giving an inventory of +them had produced the pain that he seemed to feel. Of the truth, +they had not the most distant idea. For a few minutes he sat with +them, and then, recovering in some degree, his self-possession, he +returned and kept with the trustees, until everything in the house +that could be taken, was valued. He closed the door after them, when +they left, and again returned to his family. +</P> + +<P> +"Have they gone?" asked Constance, in a low, almost whispering +voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, my child, they have gone at last." +</P> + +<P> +"And what have they left us?" inquired Mrs. Morton somewhat +anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing but the barest necessaries for housekeeping." +</P> + +<P> +"They did not take our carpets and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Mary," said Mr. Morton interrupting her, "every article in the +parlors has been set down as unnecessary." +</P> + +<P> +"O, father!" exclaimed the eldest daughter, "can it be possible?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, my child, it is possible. We are left poor, indeed. But for +all that I would not care, if they had only left us Willie's +portrait!" +</P> + +<P> +Instantly the mother and daughters rose to their feet, with blanched +cheeks, and eyes staring wildly into the father's face. +</P> + +<P> +"O no, not Willie's portrait, surely!" the mother at length said, +mournfully. "We cannot give that up. It is of no comparative value +to others, and is all in all to us." +</P> + +<P> +"I plead with them to spare us that. But it was no use," Mr. Morton +replied. "The tenderest ties in nature were nothing to them in +comparison with a hundred and fifty dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"But surely," urged Constance, "the law will protect us in the +possession of the picture. Who ever heard of a portrait being seized +upon by a creditor?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is a cruel omission; but nevertheless, Constance, there is no +law to protect us in keeping it." +</P> + +<P> +"But they shall <I>not</I> have it!" Mary said indignantly. "I will take +it away this very night, where they can never find it." +</P> + +<P> +"That would be doing wrong my child," Mr. Morton replied. "I owe +these men, and this picture, they say, will bring a hundred and +fifty dollars. If they claim it, then, I cannot honestly withhold +it. Let us, then, my dear children, resolve to keep our consciences +clear of wrong, and endeavor patiently to bear with our afflictions. +They can only result in good to us so far as we humbly acquiesce in +them. Nothing happens by chance. Every event affecting us, I have +often told you, is ordered or permitted by Divine Providence, and is +intended to make us better and wiser. This severest trial of all, if +patiently borne, will, I am sure, result in good." +</P> + +<P> +But, even while he tried to encourage and bear up the drooping +spirits of his family, his own heart sunk within him at the thought +of losing the portrait of his child. +</P> + +<P> +One week sufficed to transfer his property into the hands of the +individuals appointed to receive it. He sought to make no +unnecessary delay, and, therefore, it was quickly done. At the end +of that time, he removed his family into a small house at the +northern extremity of the city, and furnished it with the scanty +furniture that, as an insolvent debtor the law allowed him to claim. +Ere he left his beautiful mansion with his wife and children, they +all assembled in the parlour where still hung Willie's sweet +portrait. The calm, innocent face of the child had for their eyes a +melancholy beauty, such as it had never worn before; and they gazed +upon it until every cheek was wet, and every heart oppressed. A sale +of the furniture had been advertised for that day, and already the +house had been thrown open. Several strangers had come in to make +examinations before the hour of sale, and among them was a young +man, who on observing the family in the parlour, instinctively +withdrew; not, however before he had glanced at the picture they +were all looking at so earnestly. Aware that strangers were +gathering, Mr. Morton and his family soon withdrew, each taking a +last, lingering, tearful glance at the dear face looking so sweet, +so calm, so innocent. +</P> + +<P> +Their new home presented a painful and dreary contrast to the one +from which they had just parted. In the parlours, the floors of +which were all uncarpeted there were a dozen chairs, and a table, +and that was all! Bedding barely enough for the family, with but +scanty furniture, sufficed for the chambers; and the same exacting +hands had narrowed down to a stinted remnant the appendages of the +kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +It was an hour after the closing in of evening, and the family +greatly depressed in spirits, were gathered in one of the chambers, +sad, gloomy, and silent, when the servant which they had retained +came in and said that Mr. Wilkinson was below and wished to see Miss +Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed, indeed, mother, I cannot see him!" Constance said bursting +into tears. "It is cruel for him to come here so soon," she added, +after she had a little regained her self-possession. +</P> + +<P> +"You can do no less than see him Constance," her mother said. "Do +not lose that consciousness of internal truth of character which +alone can sustain you in your new relations. You are not changed, +even if outward circumstances are no longer as they were. And if Mr. +Wilkinson does not regard these do not you. Meet him my child, as +you have ever met him." +</P> + +<P> +"We have only met as friends," Constance replied, while her voice +trembled in spite of her efforts to be calm. +</P> + +<P> +"Then meet now as friends, and equals. Remember, that, all that is +of real worth in you remains. Adversity cannot rob you of your true +character." +</P> + +<P> +"Your mother has spoken well and wisely," Mr. Morton said. "If Mr. +Wilkinson, whom I know to be a man of most sterling integrity of +character, still wishes your society, or ours, it must not, from any +foolish pride or weakness on our part, be denied." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I will see him, and try to meet him as I should, though I feel +that the task will be a hard one," Constance replied. And her pale +cheek and swimming eye, told but too well, that it would need all +her efforts to maintain her self-possession. +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes she descended and met Mr. Wilkinson in the parlour. +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me," he said advancing and taking her hand as she entered, +"for so soon intruding upon you after the sad change in your +condition. But I should have been untrue to the kind feelings I bear +yourself and family, had I, from a principle of false delicacy, +staid away. I trust I shall be none the less welcome now than +before." +</P> + +<P> +"We must all esteem the kindness that prompted your visit," +Constance replied with a strong effort to subdue the troubled +emotions within, and which were but too plainly indicated, by her +now flushed cheek and trembling lips. +</P> + +<P> +"No other feeling induced me to call, except indeed, one stronger +than that possibly could be—" Mr. Wilkinson said, still holding her +hand, and looking intently in her face—"the feeling of profound +regard, nay, I must call it, affection, which I have long +entertained for you." +</P> + +<P> +A declaration so unexpected, under the circumstances, entirely +destroyed all further efforts on the part of Constance, to control +her feelings. She burst into tears, but did not attempt to withdraw +her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Can I hope for a return of like sentiment, Constance?" he at length +said, tenderly. +</P> + +<P> +A few moments' silence ensued, when the weeping girl lifted her +head, and looked him in the face with eyes, though filled with +tears, full of love's tenderest expression. +</P> + +<P> +"I still confide in my father, Mr. Wilkinson," was her answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I would see your father to-night." +</P> + +<P> +Instantly Constance glided from the room, and in a few minutes her +father came down into the parlour. A long conference ensued; and +then the mother was sent for, and finally Constance again. Mr. +Wilkinson made offers of marriage, which, being accepted, he urged +an immediate consummation. Delay was asked, but he was so earnest, +that all parties agreed that the wedding should take place in three +days. +</P> + +<P> +In three days the rite was said, and Wilkinson, one of the most +prosperous young merchants of Philadelphia, left for New York with +his happy bride. A week soon glided away, at the end of which time +they returned. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are we going?" Constance asked, as they entered a carriage on +landing from the steamboat. +</P> + +<P> +"To our own house, of course!" was her husband's reply. +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't tell me that you had taken a house, and furnished it." +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't I? Well, that is something of an oversight. But you hardly +thought that I was so simple as to catch a bird without having a +cage first provided for it." +</P> + +<P> +"You had but little time to get the cage," thought Constance, but +she did not utter the thought. +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes the carriage stopped before a noble dwelling, the +first glance of which bewildered the senses of the young bride, and +caused her to lean silent and trembling upon her husband's arm, as +she ascended the broad marble steps leading to the entrance. Thence +she was ushered hurriedly into the parlours. +</P> + +<P> +There stood her father, mother, and sisters, ready to receive her. +There was every article of furniture in its place, as she had left +it but a little over a week before. The pictures, so much admired by +her father, still hung on the wall; and there, in the old spot, was +Willie s dear portrait, as sweet, as innocent, as tranquil as ever! +One glance took in all this. In the next moment she fell weeping +upon her mother's bosom. +</P> + +<P> +A few words will explain all. Mr. Wilkinson, who was comparatively +wealthy, was just on the eve of making proposals for the hand of +Constance Morton, when the sudden reverse overtook her father, and +prostrated the hopes of the whole family. But his regard was a true +one, and not to be marred or effaced by external changes. When he +saw the sale of the house and furniture announced, he determined to +buy all in at any price. And he did so. On the day of the sale, he +bid over every competitor. +</P> + +<P> +On the night of his interview with Constance and her father, he +proposed a partnership with the latter. +</P> + +<P> +"But I have nothing, you know, Mr. Wilkinson," he replied. +</P> + +<P> +"You have established business habits, and extensive knowledge of +the operations of trade, and a large business acquaintance. And +besides these, habits of discrimination obtained by long experience, +which I need. With your co-operation in my business, I can double my +profits. Will you join me?" +</P> + +<P> +"It were folly, Mr. Wilkinson, to say nay," Mr. Morton replied. +"Then I will announce the co-partnership at once," he said. +</P> + +<P> +And it was announced before the day of marriage, but Constance did +not see it. +</P> + +<P> +A happy elevation succeeded of course, the sudden, painful, but +brief depression of their fortunes. Nor was any of that tried family +less happy than before. And one was far happier. Still, neither Mr. +Morton, nor the rest could ever look at Willie's portrait without +remembering how near they had once been to losing it, nor without a +momentary fear, that some change in life's coming mutations might +rob them of the precious treasure, now doubly dear to them. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="verypoor"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VERY POOR. +</H3> + +<P> +"WHAT has become of the Wightmans?" I asked of my old friend Payson. +I had returned to my native place after an absence of several years. +Payson looked grave. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing wrong with them, I hope. Wightman was a clever man, and he +had a pleasant family." +</P> + +<P> +My friend shook his head ominously. +</P> + +<P> +"He was doing very well when I left," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"All broken up now," was answered. "He failed several years ago." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! I'm sorry to hear this. What has become of him?" +</P> + +<P> +"I see him now and then, but I don't know what he is doing." +</P> + +<P> +"And his family?" +</P> + +<P> +"They live somewhere in Old Town. I havn't met any of them for a +long time. Some one told me that they were very poor." +</P> + +<P> +This intelligence caused a feeling of sadness to pervade my mind. +The tone and manner of Payson, as he used the words "very poor," +gave to them more than ordinary meaning. I saw, in imagination, my +old friend reduced from comfort and respectability, to a condition +of extreme poverty, with all its sufferings and humiliations. While +my mind was occupied with these unpleasant thoughts, my friend said, +</P> + +<P> +"You must dine with me to-morrow. Mrs. Payson will be glad to see +you, and I want to have a long talk about old times. We dine at +three." +</P> + +<P> +I promised to be with them, in agreement with the invitation; and +then we parted. It was during business hours, and as my friend's +manner was somewhat occupied and hurried, I did not think it right +to trespass on his time. What I had learned of the Wightmans +troubled my thoughts. I could not get them out of my mind. They were +estimable people. I had prized them above ordinary acquaintances; +and it did seem peculiarly hard that they should have suffered +misfortune. "Very poor"—I could not get the words out of my ears. +The way in which they were spoken involved more than the words +themselves expressed, or rather, gave a broad latitude to their +meaning. "VERY poor! Ah me!" The sigh was deep and involuntary. +</P> + +<P> +I inquired of several old acquaintances whom I met during the day +for the Wightmans; but all the satisfaction I received was, that +Wightman had failed in business several years before, and was now +living somewhere in Old Town in a very poor way. "They are miserably +poor," said one. "I see Wightman occasionally," said another—"he +looks seedy enough." "His girls take in sewing, I have heard," said +a third, who spoke with a slight air of contempt, as if there were +something disgraceful attached to needle-work, when pursued as a +means of livelihood. I would have called during the day, upon +Wightman, but failed to ascertain his place of residence. +</P> + +<P> +"Glad to see you!" Payson extended his hand with a show of +cordiality, as I entered his store between two and three o'clock on +the next day. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down and look over the papers for a little while," he added. +"I'll be with you in a moment. Just finishing up my bank business." +</P> + +<P> +"Business first," was my answer, as I took the proffered newspaper. +"Stand upon no ceremony with me." +</P> + +<P> +As Payson turned partly from me, and bent his head to the desk at +which he was sitting, I could not but remark the suddenness with +which the smile my appearance had awakened faded from his +countenance. Before him was a pile of bank bills, several checks, +and quite a formidable array of bank notices. He counted the bills +and checks, and after recording the amount upon a slip of paper +glanced uneasily at his watch, sighed, and then looked anxiously +towards the door. At this moment a clerk entered hastily, and made +some communication in an undertone, which brought from my friend a +disappointed and impatient expression. +</P> + +<P> +"Go to Wilson," said he hurriedly, "and tell him to send me a check +for five hundred without fail. Say that I am so much short in my +bank payments, and that it is now too late to get the money any +where else. Don't linger a moment; it is twenty five minutes to +three now." +</P> + +<P> +The clerk departed. He was gone full ten minutes, during which +period Payson remained at his desk, silent, but showing many signs +of uneasiness. On returning, he brought the desired check, and was +then dispatched to lift the notes for which this late provision was +made. +</P> + +<P> +"What a life for a man to lead," said my friend, turning to me with +a contracted brow and a sober face. "I sometimes wish myself on an +island in mid ocean. You remember C——?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very well." +</P> + +<P> +"He quit business a year ago, and bought a farm. I saw him the other +day. 'Payson,' said he, with an air of satisfaction, 'I haven't seen +a bank notice this twelvemonth.' He's a happy man! This note paying +is the curse of my life. I'm forever on the street +financiering—<I>Financiering</I>. How I hate the word! But come—they'll +be waiting dinner for us. Mrs. Payson is delighted at the thought of +seeing you. How long is it since you were here? About ten years, if +I'm not mistaken. You'll find my daughters quite grown up. Clara is +in her twentieth year. You, of course, recollect her only as a +school girl. Ah me! how time does fly!" +</P> + +<P> +I found my friend living in a handsome house in Franklin street. It +was showily, not tastefully, furnished, and the same might be said +of his wife and daughters. When I last dined with them—it was many +years before—they were living in a modest, but very comfortable +way, and the whole air of their dwelling was that of cheerfulness +and comfort. Now, though their ample parlors were gay with rich +Brussels, crimson damask, and brocatelle, there was no genuine home +feeling there. Mrs. Payson, the last time I saw her, wore a +mousseline de lain, of subdued colors, a neat lace collar around her +neck, fastened with a small diamond pin, the marriage gift of her +father. Her hair, which curled naturally, was drawn behind her ears +in a few gracefully falling ringlets. She needed no other ornament. +Anything beyond would have taken from her the chiefest of her +attractions, her bright, animated countenance, in which her friends +ever read a heart-welcome. +</P> + +<P> +How changed from this was the rather stately woman, whose real +pleasure at seeing an old friend was hardly warm enough to melt +through the ice of an imposed formality. How changed from this the +pale, cold, worn face, where selfishness and false pride had been +doing a sad, sad work. Ah! the rich Honiton lace cap and costly +cape; the profusion of gay ribbons, and glitter of jewelry; the +ample folds of glossy satin; how poor a compensation were they for +the true woman I had parted with a few years ago, and now sought +beneath these showy adornments in vain! +</P> + +<P> +Two grown-up daughters, dressed almost as flauntingly as their +mother, were now presented. In the artificial countenance of the +oldest, I failed to discover any trace of my former friend Clara. +</P> + +<P> +A little while we talked formally, and with some constraint all +round; then, as the dinner had been waiting us, and was now served, +we proceeded to the dining-room. I did not feel honored by the +really sumptuous meal the Paysons had provided for their old friend; +because it was clearly to be seen that no honor was intended. The +honor was all for themselves. The ladies had not adorned their +persons, nor provided their dinner, to give me welcome and pleasure, +but to exhibit to the eyes of their guest, their wealth, luxury, and +social importance. If I had failed to perceive this, the +conversation of the Paysons would have made it plain, for it was of +style and elegance in house-keeping and dress—of the ornamental in +all its varieties; and in no case of the truly domestic and useful. +Once or twice I referred to the Wightmans; but the ladies knew +nothing of them, and seemed almost to have forgotten that such +persons ever lived. +</P> + +<P> +It did not take long to discover that, with all the luxury by which +my friends were surrounded, they were far from being happy. Mrs. +Payson and her daughters, had, I could see, become envious as well +as proud. They wanted a larger house, and more costly furniture in +order to make as imposing an appearance as some others whom they did +not consider half as good as themselves. To all they said on this +subject, I noticed that Payson himself maintained, for the most +part, a half-moody silence. It was, clearly enough, unpleasant to +him. +</P> + +<P> +"My wife and daughters think I am made of money," said he, once, +half laughing. "But if they knew how hard it was to get hold of, +sometimes, they would be less free in spending. I tell them I am a +poor man, comparatively speaking; but I might as well talk to the +wind." +</P> + +<P> +"Just as well," replied his wife, forcing an incredulous laugh; +"why will you use such language? A poor man!" +</P> + +<P> +"He that wants what he is not able to buy, is a poor man, if I +understand the meaning of the term," said Payson, with some feeling. +"And he who lives beyond his income, as a good many of our +acquaintances do to my certain knowledge, is poorer still." +</P> + +<P> +"Now don't get to riding that hobby, Mr. Payson," broke in my +friend's wife, deprecatingly—"don't, if you please. In the first +place, it's hardly polite, and, in the second place, it is by no +means agreeable. Don't mind him"—and the lady turned to me +gaily—"he gets in these moods sometimes." +</P> + +<P> +I was not surprised at this after what I had witnessed, about his +house. Put the scenes and circumstances together, and how could it +well be otherwise? My friend, thus re-acted upon, ventured no +further remark on a subject that was so disagreeable to his family. +But while they talked of style and fashion, he sat silent, and to my +mind oppressed with no very pleasant thoughts. After the ladies had +retired, he said, with considerable feeling— +</P> + +<P> +"All this looks and sounds very well, perhaps; but there are two +aspects to almost everything. My wife and daughters get one view of +life, and I another. They see the romance, I the hard reality. It is +impossible for me to get money as fast as they wish to spend it. It +was my fault in the beginning, I suppose. Ah! how difficult it is to +correct an error when once made. I tell them that I am a poor man, +but they smile in my face, and ask me for a hundred dollars to shop +with in the next breath. I remonstrate, but it avails not, for they +don't credit what I say. AND I AM POOR—poorer, I sometimes think, +than the humblest of my clerks, who manages, out of his salary of +four hundred a year, to lay up fifty dollars. He is never in want of +a dollar, while I go searching about, anxious and troubled, for my +thousands daily. He and his patient, cheerful, industrious little +wife find peace and contentment in the single room their limited +means enables them to procure, while my family turn dissatisfied +from the costly adornments of our spacious home, and sigh for richer +furniture, and a larger and more showy mansion. If I were a +millionaire, their ambition might be satisfied. Now, their ample +wishes may not be filled. I must deny them, or meet inevitable ruin. +As it is, I am living far beyond a prudent limit—not half so far, +however, as many around me, whose fatal example is ever tempting the +weak ambition of their neighbors." +</P> + +<P> +This and much more of similar import, was said by Payson. When I +returned from his elegant home, there was no envy in my heart. He +was called a rich and prosperous man by all whom I heard speak of +him, but in my eyes, he was very poor. +</P> + +<P> +A day or two afterwards, I saw Wightman in the street. He was so +changed in appearance that I should hardly have known him, had he +not first spoken. He looked in my eyes, twenty years older than when +we last met. His clothes were poor, though scrupulously clean; and, +on observing him more closely, I perceived an air of neatness and +order, that indicates nothing of that disregard about external +appearance which so often accompanies poverty. +</P> + +<P> +He grasped my hand cordially, and inquired, with a genuine interest, +after my health and welfare. I answered briefly, and then said: +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry to hear that it is not so well with you in worldly +matters as when I left the city." +</P> + +<P> +A slight shadow flitted over his countenance, but it grew quickly +cheerful again. +</P> + +<P> +"One of the secrets of happiness in this life," said he, "is +contentment with our lot. We rarely learn this in prosperity. It is +not one of the lessons taught in that school." +</P> + +<P> +"And you have learned it?" said I. +</P> + +<P> +"I have been trying to learn it," he answered, smiling. "But I find +it one of the most difficult of lessons. I do not hope to acquire it +perfectly." +</P> + +<P> +A cordial invitation to visit his family and take tea with them +followed, and was accepted. I must own, that I prepared to go to the +Wightmans with some misgivings as to the pleasure I should receive. +Almost every one of their old acquaintances, to whom I had addressed +inquiries on the subject, spoke of them with commiseration, as "very +poor." If Wightman could bear the change with philosophy, I hardly +expected to find the same Christian resignation in his wife, whom I +remembered as a gay, lively woman, fond of social pleasures. +</P> + +<P> +Such were my thoughts when I knocked at the door of a small house, +that stood a little back from the street. It was quickly opened by a +tall, neatly-dressed girl, whose pleasant face lighted into a smile +of welcome as she pronounced my name. +</P> + +<P> +"This is not Mary?" I said as I took her proffered hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, this is your little Mary," she answered. "Father told me you +were coming." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Wightman came forward as I entered the room into which the +front door opened, and gave me a most cordial welcome. Least of all +had time and reverses changed her. Though a little subdued, and +rather paler and thinner, her face had the old heart-warmth in +it—the eyes were bright from the same cheerful spirit. +</P> + +<P> +"How glad I am to see you again!" said Mrs. Wightman. And she was +glad. Every play of feature, every modulation of tone, showed this. +</P> + +<P> +Soon her husband came in, and then she excused herself with a smile, +and went out, as I very well understood, to see after tea. In a +little while supper was ready, and I sat down with the family in +their small breakfast room, to one of the pleasantest meals I have +ever enjoyed. A second daughter, who was learning a trade, came in +just as we were taking our places at the table, and was introduced. +What a beautiful glow was upon her young countenance! She was the +very image of health and cheerfulness. +</P> + +<P> +When I met Wightman in the street, I thought his countenance wore +something of a troubled aspect—this was the first impression made +upon me. Now, as I looked into his face, and listened to his +cheerful, animated conversation, so full of life's true philosophy, +I could not but feel an emotion of wonder. "Very poor!" How little +did old friends, who covered their neglect of this family with these +commiserating words, know of their real state. How little did they +dream that sweet peace folded her wings in that humble dwelling +nightly; and that morning brought to each a cheerful, resolute +spirit, which bore them bravely through all their daily toil. +</P> + +<P> +"How are you getting along now Wightman?" I asked, as, after bidding +good evening to his pleasant family, I stood with him at the gate +opening from the street to his modest dwelling. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well," was his cheerful reply. "It was up hill work for +several years, when I only received five hundred dollars salary as +clerk, and all my children were young. But now, two of them are +earning something, and I receive eight hundred dollars instead of +five. We have managed to save enough to buy this snug little house. +The last payment was made a month since. I am beginning to feel +rich." +</P> + +<P> +And he laughed a pleasant laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Very poor," I said to myself, musingly, as I walked away from the +humble abode of the Wightmans. "Very poor. The words have had a +wrong application." +</P> + +<P> +On the next day I met Payson. +</P> + +<P> +"I spent last evening with the Wightmans," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed! How did you find them? Very poor, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"I have not met a more cheerful family for years. No, Mr. Payson +they are not '<I>very poor</I>,' for they take what the great Father +sends, and use it with thankfulness. <I>Those who ever want more than +they possess are the very poor.</I> But such are not the Wightmans." +</P> + +<P> +Payson looked at me a moment or two curiously, and then let his eyes +fall to the ground. A little while he mused. Light was breaking in +upon him. +</P> + +<P> +"Contented and thankful!" said he, lifting his eyes from the ground. +"Ah! my friend, if I and mine were only contented and thankful!" +</P> + +<P> +"You have cause to be," I remarked. "The great Father hath covered +your table with blessings." +</P> + +<P> +"And yet we are poor—VERY POOR," said he, "for we are neither +contented nor thankful. We ask for more than we possess, and, +because it is not given, we are fretful and impatient. Yes, yes—we, +not the Wightmans, are poor—very poor." +</P> + +<P> +And with these words on his lips, my old friend turned from me, and +walked slowly away, his head bent in musing attitude to the ground. +Not long afterwards, I heard that he had failed. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" thought I, when this news reached me, "now you are poor, VERY +poor, indeed!" And it was so. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Home Lights and Shadows, by T. S. Arthur + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOME LIGHTS AND SHADOWS *** + +***** This file should be named 4594-h.htm or 4594-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/5/9/4594/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</BODY> + +</HTML> + + |