THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT?
ife is rea —Life is EAR.NET,
And the grave is not its goal:
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the SOUL.
LONGFELLOW,
NEW YORK:
GARRETT & CO., PUBLISHERS,
NO. 18 ANN STREET.
1 8 6 5.




Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by
GARRETT & CO.,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern
District of New York.




P R E FF A C E.
IN every temple dedicated to our LoRD-that is to say, in
every branch of the One Temple-there are two churches, viz.:
The Church of CHRIST, which is a church of goodness, is productive of gentleness, humility, and single-heartedness, and leads
its people to Happiness;
And,
The Church of SOCIETY, which is a church of evil, is productive
of pride, arrogance, and selfishness, and leads its people to
Misery.
The first is made up of The Few, who walk in the light of
their Redeemer's countenance, and regard their Lord as their
Patron.
The second is made up of The Many, who walk in the light
of Money, and complacently regard themselves as The?Patrons
of THE LORD.
The Few worship HIM meekly, lovingly, contritely; the Many
fashionably, elegantly, superciliously.
CHRIsT'S Christians measure all men by the goodness of their
hearts, and the gentleness, simplicity, and correctness of their
deportment, as prescribed by the Law of God;
SOCIETY'S Christians measure all men by the fullness of their
pockets, the texture of their coats, and the correctness of their
deportment, as prescribed by the Law of Society.
The former believe that all things should be done for the glory
of their Blessed Lord, who is their all in all;
The latter, that they should do everything for their own glory
-which is their all in all.
(c)




iv.                     PREFACE.
The first believe that Life is a REAL and an EARNEST thing;
that it is a season for Action, not Play;
The second believe it to be simply a Great Joke.
The Few believe that Man's first, last, and only business is, To
secure his inheritance in the Bright Beyond, whose duration is
eternal. "I must work the work of Him that sent me, while it
is Day-for the Night cometh, wherein no man can work."
The Many believe that Man's first, last, and only business is,
To accumulate Money, to make a show, and to be talked abouttill he is gone.
The first believe that they should do good unto all men;
The second, that they should look out for Number One, and
let others do the same.
CHRIsT's Christians believe that the Business of life consists in
Business truthfulness;
Church Membership; and
The right of every Man and Woman to glide onward to
Everlasting Happiness, piously, peacefully, and lovingly.
SOCIETY's Christians recognize as legitimateBusiness lying;
Church Membership without Religion; and,
The right of every Man and Woman to glide down to Everlasting Perdition, fashionably, gracefully, and respectably.
When, therefore, it is said of a known knave, "He is a menmber of The Church," —it ought always to be added," of Society's
-not CHRIST'S."




DEDICATION.
T O
OF
A  RARE  FRI E N D  OF  HUMAN I TY,
THE LATE
ANSON G. PI-IELPS,
WHO)
AMID ALL THE TEMPTATIONS OF COMMERCE  SOCIETY, AND
GREAT WTEALTH,
veserbet aft %pfvftu-a ttast,
AND DIED, AS HE IIVED,
A MEEK AND HUMBLE CHRISTIAN.








WHICH:
THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
CHAPTER I
THE evening of the 5th of April, 184-, was a solemn  one
throughout the quiet, secluded town of Enfield. Of its seven or
eight hundred inhabitants-composed, with three or four exceptions, exclusively of husbandmen who inherited with the broad
acres of their fertile farms, the industry, the intelligence, and the
strong religious spirit of their HIuguenot ancestors-there was
scarcely one, whether old or young, who did not feel like
weeping.  For Samuel-they never spoke of the town's only
school-teacher in any other way, nor called him by any other
name, although he was now a full-grown fman, and hard upon
his twenty-fifth year-Samuel, the mark and model of EnfieldSamuel, their beloved pastor's oldest son-Samuel, whom everybody knew and whom everybody loved, was about to leave them,
to try his fortunes in the metropolis, and this was his last night
at home.
A stranger to Enfield, had one been there on the evening in
question, would have found it difficult to understand why so
simple an event as the departure of one of their number-an
every-day occurrence in most rural districts —should produce so
much distress upon the minds of its people.  Nor would his
(7}




8       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
surprise have lessened in any perceivable degree until he had
become intimately acquainted with the religious character of the
inhabitants, observed the tender interest which they took in one
another's welfare, and learned the strong hold which moral worth
had upon their simple, honest hearts.
To the worthy people of Enfield, the thought of losing one
whom they had known and loved from his infancy, as in the
school-teacher's case, was a trying one.  They could hardly
realize it, although they knew it to be true: for the fact of his
intended departure had been rumored for a long time, and they
had all been to the parsonage that very day, and shaken their
favorite tenderly and feelingly by the hand for the last time, and
left him, notwithstanding his assumed calmness and his pleasant
smiles, which even the children saw through, suffering with emotions equally as deep and mournful as their own.
Those of the inhabitants who had reached life's thoughtful
autumn, viewed Samuel's design with mingled solicitude and
pain. To them his departure appeared like a dreadful blow to
the moral interests of the town. They had known him from his
infancy; had observed the singular simplicity and marked
uprightness of his character, and had held him up to their children as a pattern of all that was exemplary, and as a model
worthy of their love, their study, and their imitation; and with
a success which was visible in the minds and deportments of the
larger proportion of the young men of the town. And now this
mind, whose purity, strength, simplicity, and clearness had become a living marvel-this heart whose natural nobleness, and
high courage in all things relating to honor, humanity, and religion, had stamped its owner as a great moral hero-this form,
whose deportment was not more remarkable for its gracefulness
than for its meek, unpretending dignity —this MAN, whose moral
influence was visible in all who associated or came in contact
with him-whose example was, in all things, the standard of




WHICH: THE RIGHT, or THE LEFT.                9
uprightness and correctness; whose tranquil happiness impressed
even the young, inspired them with a tender respect for heavenly
things, and prompted them to fly spontaneously to religion, the
source of so much permanent joy-whose benevolent spirit,
radiating like the sun, spread from heart to heart, in young and
old, until nearly all the town had realized the gentle truth that
it is more blessed to give than to receive; whose rare magnanimity, while it ever made him the champion of the weak, led him
to return loving words for harsh ones, and to repay good for
evil, as if evil had only been created to show the greater beauty,
strength, and power of goodness-whose general character was
gradually influencing all within the circuit of his rural range, and
moulding them slowly but not less surely into so many reflexes
of his own upright nature: this mind, this heart, this form, this
man whom all knew, whom all loved, and in whom all had
confidence; this spirit of benevolence, peace, and good-will —
this mark and model of the town, of whom young and old had
been accustomed to say: " Behold! this is Samuel, the upright!"
-was about to remove from their midst, not temporarily, but
permanently-forever!
As the aged ones thought of all this, their pious hearts were
shaken mournfully. It was true he Mwould leave many glorious
natures whom his own example had likened to himself, behind
him; but not one-no, not one-whose name was so faimiliar,
so loved, or so significant of goodness, as his own; not one who
had been noted from his earliest years for the purity of his
thoughts equally with himself-not one who enjoyed so large a
measure of public confidence; not one whose patronymic was
the synonyme, with young and old, of all that was pure, and
good, and noble-in a word, not one SAMUEL.
The good old hearts were sadly moved as they reflected upon
this. They had always appreciated the worth of their young
friend; but they had never fully comprehended his exceeding
1*




10        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
richness in those qualities which invest their possessors with
absolute moral grandeur, nor dreamed of the deep hold which
he had upon their affections, until now-now that they were about
to lose him. Once before they had taken leave of him; but
it was only for a time, that he might finish at college the education which he had begun under his father, their pastor. Then
they knew he would return, and he did return; but it was to
take a firmer hold than ever of their hearts, and to prove to
them that all the bright promise of the Christian boy was more
than fulfilled in the Christian man. But there was no hope of
that kind to console them now. His departure on the morrow
was to be a final one; and, save perhaps an annual visit or so,
the scenes of his youth and the friends of his youth would know
him henceforth no more.
All this touched the hearts of the old folks deeply, as only
hearts can be touched that feel an abiding interest in the place
where they were born, and in the morals of the generation that
shall rule its destinies when they themselves shall have passed
away.
From these considerations, the old thinking hearts of Enfield
passed to the chances of the young man himself in the great
city whither he was bound. The good souls themselves had not
gone through life's long, crooked lane without gathering pearls of
wisdom on the way. They had seen flowers fall, as well as blossom, in the spring; they had seen them fade arid wither in the
summer, and drop long before the airs of autumn  or the chill
breath of winter had approached, and the lesson was remembered, and stored away with other memories which had been
garnered by experience as well. They had seen brave oaks which
had long withstood the tempest, riven and hurled headlong to the
earth in unlcoked-for hours; while younger trees, that had bent
timidly to every storm, escaped, and grew bravely, and boldly,
and firmly into strong and stalwart giants, that laughed to scorn




WHICH: TaE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                11
the roar and energies of the fiercest hurricane. Would Samuel
withstand the pressure of temptation as firmly. Would their
flower, who had been reared amid the pure airs and free sunshine of the country, bear up as bravely in the withering hothouse atmosphere of city plants?
They knew the city well, these old hearts of Enfield. They
understood the operation of its blighting breath upon its own
sons and daughters, whom its tiger-nature rarely spared; and
they knew, too, while it welcomed with its brightest smiles and
its gentlest tones every rural stranger that approached its gates,
that its smiles were hollow as its own heart, and its dulcet voice
assumed to beguile them to destruction. And they would not
have their Samuel-their Samuel, at once their fairest flower, and
their bravest oak-fall a victim to its wiles.
They remembered how, many years before, Deacon Morley's
sol, a brave, intelligent, moral-minded youth, had left Enfield for
the city; how he grew in time, amid the temptations which sulrrounded him, to acquire the factitious ways and thoughts of those
who lived there, and to forget the pious ways and thoughts of
his own people; how he turned, by degrees, from the simple
habits of his youth and the high moral aim which the good deacon
had labored so many years to impress indelibly upon his heart;
how he yielded, slowly, to be sure, but in the end yielded, to
the. tempting voice of ambition, and became at length a cold,
calculating getter of riches, for riches' sake alone; how he fell,
step by step, from his original love of truth and fair, manly dealing, into the gulf of falsehodd, meanness, and that equivocal
honesty which is just inside the law; how, using falsehood, hypoorisy and dishonesty for his ladder, he mounted step by step to
power and high fortune-despised by all who knew him, and to
the great sorrow of the friends of his youth, most of whom
still preserved, sacred and inviolate, the moral purity which
had been bequeathed to them by their sires; how his fall friom




12       WHICH: THIE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
uprightness broke the heart of the good old deacon his father,
while it brought to the stricken spirit of her who had borne him
the mournful consciousness that her boy's departure from truth,
for the sake of worldly gain, had destroyed all hope of their reunion in that better land which none but the just can enter;
how he grew rich and cold, and hard, till he became lost in the
vortex of his vast wealth-his heart eaten up by pride and pomp
and glitter to the last! They would not have their Samuel fall
like Deacon Morley's son, for the world.
Then there was neighbor Grantley's son. He, too, had gone
to the city, carrying with him, as was generally hoped and believed, the innocence, integrity, and piety of his youth. The law
had a charm for him, and he embraced it. His friends were
fearful; but he assured them in his letters, that he would be
firm, that he would preserve the purity of his heart and the
confidence of his Redeemer; and that, come professional failure
or success, he would never take up a case that had not the
right on its side. His friends hoped, prayed, and trusted. A
year flew by-two —three-and report stated that the young
advocate was a rising man, and that he had been true to his
promise. Who shall depict the joy of all Enfield at this glad
tidings. But by-and-bye another rumor came, and their hearts
were saddened. Grantley had at length fallen. Talent is better
paid on the side of wrong than on that of right.  Not content
with a fair and growing income, he had caught the city feverambition. He no longer remembered the bright lessons of his
youth-he no longer thought of the glorious crown which awaits
the hbiQ`Whho holds out to the end-greed was now his object,
the e;mpty; praise of a hollow-hearted world his leading aspiration. For these he threw his rare talent to the highest bidder;
for these he cast aside his piety, his purity, his moral manhood.
For a few years of wealth, and that men might say of him'" Behold one of our city's great!" he had sundered all ties that bound
e




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                 13
him to the lowly few; had sent an arrow to the two mild loving hearts who had never forgotten their own allegiance to
their King and Prince; had swept away his chances of becoming
one of that noble multitude whose highest ambition is to enjoy
the friendship of their Maker throughout eternity.  He fell as
men fall who give up truth for money. From that hour his peace
of heart was gone; in its place came wealth, reputation and position. His tireless energies, his intellectual powers, and the
faculty which he had acquired of using truth and falsehood as
they suited his purposes, helped him in time to a judgeship.
Here he was willing to rest, having achieved the two objects of
his ambition-riches and a name.  But at what a sacrifice! His
integrity to his God-where was that? His once guileless
heart-where was that?  His simplicity of mind, the connecting
link between his conscience and his acts-where was that?  His
once brave spirit, which dared all things for the right, and quailed
only before wrong-where was that?  His father's peace, his
mother's love, the confidence of his friends, the approving smile
of his Prince, his seat around the heavenly throne-where were
they?  What had he in their stead?  Riches-a feeble position among men-a reputation for legal craftiness-a broken,
bankrupt, worn-out body - and a consciousness that he had
betrayed the trust reposed in him by his God.!'What wages!
The good old. hearts of Enfield would not have their Samuel
fall like Grantley.
And yet they knew that their young friend would be tried, as
all are tried who set foot in cities and delve in the fields of business in quest of fortune. For he had talent, energy, and intelligence —qualities which command success everywhere, but
especially in the metropolis where opportunities are continually
turning up to incite them to exertion. But what kind of figure
would Samuel, with his simple mind and honest heart, cut in that
great crowd of business strugglers where every man has a double




14        WHICH: THEI RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
mind-one for his fellows, and another for himself; where men
smile lovingly upon those whom they are plotting to destroy;
where hypocrisy is the study of men's lives; where men mine
and countermnine for the purpose of rising upon each other's
ruin; where men blind one another with false reports to veil
the triumphal passage of their own respective movements;
where men are not what they seem; and where, it would appear,
Honesty is laughed sneeringly aside, and Knavery alone marches
forward to success? What could be hoped for Samuel, with all
his truth, his candor, his simplicity, and his piety, in a cauldron,
steaming with all the ingredients of roguery like this?  Place
his honest mind in collision with that of a sharp city fox-what
then? Put a lamb in the presence of a wolf for ten minutes, and
then look for what is left of the lamb!
The good old hearts felt sad at this prospect of their favorite's. They hoped he would succeed, but with their knowledge
of the temptations which beleaguer all men in New York, they
could perceive but little to encourage that hope. With their
view of moral responsibility, it was comparatively impossible for
an honest man to pass through the perilous journey of business
with profit.. Still it might be done; and if so, Samuel, of all
men, was the one to test it. His effort, at least, would be a gallnat
one; for he was young, and had a young man's energies; brave,
with a brave man's will; prudent, with a prudent man's carefulness; together with a ripe, well-balanced mind, which would
equally preserve him from  summary conclusions, hastiness of
action, and undue errors in judgment. In any event, they knew
he would be faithful to the great aim of the Christian's beingthat, come failure or success, he would never lose sight of the
great trust which is reposed in every Christian-the purity of
his own heart. Meanwhile, they, like true men in the Lord, would
pray for him, and invoke the Divine Eye to be ever over him,




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                 15
and the Divine Hand to be ever near him; for he was a brother in
a perilous pass —A BROTHER IN DISTRESS.
And from many a hearth in Enfield, there ascended, on that
and many a night besides, many a touching prayer, of which
this was the pith and idea: "Be thou, 0 Lord! with SAMUELwith SAMUEL, 0 Lord!"
CHAPTER II.
THE innmates of the parsonage consisted of the pastor himself, his wife, their two sons, Samuel and little Joe, the latter
in his seventh year, and Betsy the housekeeper, who, having
occupied that position ever since our hero was an infant, regarded herself as a regular member of the family.
Mr. Leland, the pastor, judging by the silver which intermingled with the short jet hair which covered his fine Roman head,
was somewhat turned of fifty. Though only slightly above
the medium height, the slenderness of his make gave him a
commanding appearance.  His features were small, but defined
with a boldness and delicacy which made them singularly impressive. The dark eyes were full of depth, and their amber
clearness indicated a ripe, well-balanced and richly stored intellect, tempered with fine observation and experience. The tone
of the face was that of a man whose mind associated only with
high and serious things, and whose heart could only be enlisted
by the finer phases of humanity.
Mrs. Leland was a* small, fair-haired, blue-eyed, delicately
formed lady; and although of nearly the same age age as her part.




16        WTHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
ner, time had dealt gently by her.  Her fair face, straight features, and girl-like form, bating a certain thoughtful, matronly
air, were still almost as young, graceful, and winning as on
her wedding night, some six-and-twenty years before.  A single
glance at her mild, seraphic countenance would have satisfied
the most inexperienced observer that her mind was a casket
of pure thoughts, and her heart a fountain of rare tenderness
and feeling, tinctured with an abiding consciousness of moral
responsibility.
Samuel was, in height, shape, and general appearance, the
counterpart of his father. He had the same earnest air, the
same boldness and delicacy of feature, the same resolute lip, the
same indications of elevated thought, and the same quiet dignity of manner -mingled, however, with the serenity, tenderness, and depth of feeling which shone so conspicuously in the
countenance of his mother.
Little Joe was a slender, fair-haired boy, of seven or eight
summers.  He had the fine Roman features of his father, with
the blue, lustrous eyes, so redolent of angelic sweetness, of his
maternal parent. The expression of his face was singularly
mild and pleasant; but it only required a glance to tell an observer that the two bright blue orbs whose beauty so much
charmed him, were, like two imprisoned souls, shut out forever
from the light of the beautiful world around them. Poor little
Joe was blind. He had but one companion, but of that one he
never tired.  It accompanied him all the day; it was his only
bed-fellow when he laid him down at night. This companion
was a small flageolet, which had been presented him  by his
brother some three years before. With his flageolet, little Joe
was usually as happy as a king. He would talk to it, fondle it,
and play with it, as if it were a human thing, and understood
and could return it all.  When tired of exercising with his instrument thus, he would apply its mouth-piece to his lips, and,




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                17
as he laughingly expressed it, make it talk back, which it did, in
its own peculiar way. Then his blue, sightless eyes would fail,
with a loving expression, upon the body of his friend, and every
sense was swallowed up in listening to its voice. The melody
that followed depended altogether upon the state of the player's
feelings at the moment. If anything occurred to sadden him-as,
however, was rarely the case, for great care was taken by the
household, as well as by their visitors, to give a sunny tone to
every word uttered in his hearing, -his flageolet took a plaintive strain, which told of the mournful pageant that was passing
through his little heart. If gay, the music of the song-bird, when
trilling its merits to its coquettish mistress, was not more sweet
or inspiriting than the melody of Joe's pipe. It is true, Joe,
or rather, his instrument, could play but a single tune, and that
it was always the same tune; but then, if it was, it had its variations, like any other tune, and Joe could play them all: for the
tune itself, with all the variations, was of Joe's own composing,
and though, as a tune, it might make a professor of music smile,
yet, to Joe himself and all in the parsonage, and, for that matter, everybody in Enfield, too, it was just such a tune as no
other composer ever made or could make, let him be ever so
great. But it was a tune that Joe loved, and all in the parsonage loved, and all Enfield, too, because it was Joe's own. It
might not have been composed-we incline to the opinion it was
not-according to the regular rule, but for all that, it was a tune,
-one which the members of the parsonage prized more than all
other tunes in the world, and one which, while it frequently made
them smile, often drew tears of anguish to their eyes; for, when
the voice of the pipe was sad, they knew that it merely uttered
the feelings of the poor blind boy.
Aunt Betsy was a short, stout, active, happy old soul, with the
silver of sixty winters under her close-fitting cap. Although
" waxin in years," as the good old creature was wont to observe,




18       WHIca: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"' she had no notion of givin' in yet. She was of a race who
never gave in afore a hundred, and she intended, the Lord willin! to hold out to the reg'lar time. There was her greatgran'father, who fout the Injins ever so far back, when they
were thick as bees round Enfield; he got wownded in more'n
twenty places, and yet he lived his hundred out full, and two
years over. Then gran'father John, who fout the British in the
Revolution times, and got wownded in the head by a British bullet, which they found afterwards in a tree right behind where he
had stood, lived on to his hundred.  Then there was her father,
John Fargis —everybody had heerd of him —he was postmaster
in Enfield, once, and therefore a hearable man; —he didn't give
in nuther till he'd made his hundred, with three years more, besides: and she meant to keep up the number. If her dead and
gone man, Frank Disosway, hadn't went and fout the Britishers
in the last war, and bin killed, he'd most likely bin alive still;
for he was of a long race, too, who always held out till ninety.
As for herself, she was young enough yet. She didn't say it to
coax for'ard another husband, for she didn't want and wouldn't
have another, if she was enticed ever so hard —she knew her feelins as Frank Disosway's widder too well for that-and so there
was no use in any one's offering.  But she was young enough
yet-she knew that-and she meant, the Lord willin! to hold
out to the reg'lar time!"
Excepting in her hours of sleep, in which the worthy housekeeper was as regular as night itself, Aunt Betsy's eye and hand
were always busy. The most captious fault-finder would have
failed to detect a solitary flaw in anything belonging to her department. She was neatness and economy personified. Everything in and about the parsonage bore a thrifty and an inviting
look. A speck or stain, either in the house or around it, vcOuld
have been as difficult to discover as a mine of gold or a bed of
pearls. Parlor, bed-rooms and kitchen were always as bright,




WHICiH: THE RIGHT, OR T~IE LEFT.              19
clean and cheery as the smiling face and trim, modest countenance of the good old soul herself.  When everything else was
done, Aunt Betsy had her knitting to do, and that was never
finished. Morning and evening, summer and winter, every otherwise unemployed moment was devoted to knitting-her eyes
meanwhile wandering all around, above and below her, to see if
a speck had previously escaped her, if anything had been left
unfinished, if anything required attention, and if everybody
around her was perfectly comfortable.
On the evening in question, the members of the household
were grouped around the parlor hearth: for old winter's breath
lingered yet in the cold airs of spring.
On the right, in her straight, high-backed chair, sat Aunt Betsy,
knitting away, for dear life; the master of the parsonage, with
his wife and eldest son on either side of him, occupied the centre;
on the left, beside the mantel-frame, was little Joe.
It was a tender and a touching scene.
Aunt Betsy was in a high state of excitement, as was evidenced
by the extraordinary rapidity with which her needles and fingers
chased one another in her knitting-; her face was pale, too, and a
tear-drop, which would not be restrained, fell every now and
then from her moist eyelids to her cheeks, from whence it glided
to the finger tips as they worried the glittering needles. In very
truth, the dear old soul was very sad: why, could easily be guessed
from her frequent stolen glances at the young handsome face of
him who was to leave the parsonage on the morrow, for a stern,
manly struggle with the world.
Samuel himself was the only one in the party whose features
wore a happy and contented look. But it was all assumed,
as every one around -him knew, to veil his heaviness of heart,
and to inspire his companions with a cheerfulness which he was
conscious, after all, they could not feel.
Mr. Leland, the pastor, was grave, thoughtful, and apparently




20        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
tranquil. But everybody there knew that his big heart was suffering; and when, as sometimes happened, in the course of the
evening, he put on a smiling look, they felt intuitively that he
was then suffering the most.
Mrs. Leland did her best to appear cheerful; but her attempts
were so feeble and transparent, that even little Joe, as his fine,
sensitive ear caught the tones of her voice, understood what was
passing in her breast.
Of all the group, poor blind Joe deserved sympathy the most.
Too young to call the stoicism of philosophy to his aid, he was
the victim of a heart which was wholly made up of sensitiveness
and feeling. HIis little head was almost bursting with its big,
painful thoughts. He felt that all around the hearth were suffering; and as he loved them all with indescribable fervency, the
intense sadness of his spirit may be readily imagined. Of his
own individual grief he was scarcely conscious, if indeed he
thought of it at all. And yet his great heart was almost breaking with its woe. Seated in his little chair, he spoke to no one
but his friend the flageolet, through which he poured out, in the
mournfullest of strains, the sad burden of his soul: his blue,
sightless orbs turned, with an expression of mingled sorrow and
affection, upon the sympathizing pipe, while a small tearful rill
glided silently, but steadily, from his either eyelid to the feverheated cheek below.
The conversation was principally carried on by Mr. Leland
and our hero-Mrs. Leland rarely venturing a remark, and Aunt
Betsy scarcely uttering a word.
It was a solemn parting hour between two loving parents and
an equally loving son. Much was therefore said, and much left
unsaid: for each instinctively felt the propriety of uttering
nothing which would call up a painful thought, and both desiring
to leave a cheerful impress on the other's mind.  At length
the conversation took a more general turn.




WHICHr: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               21
"Samuel, my son," began the pastor, speaking in a livelier tone
than his feelings had yet permitted him to assume, "you will
carry with you the consolation that your little friends of the
school-room are in good hands. Mr. Griswold, your successor,
happily combines with. the ripeness of the scholar, the refinement of the gentleman, and the earnest piety of the Christian."
"True, father; and when the little ones learn his worth, they
will love him as we do."
"He comes of a good. stock," continued the worthy pastor.
"As far back as we can trace, —and that dates with the first settlement of the town —the Griswolds have borne the good man's
name!'
"They're of good blood-always hold out till ninety-five!"
observed Aunt Betsy quietly to herself. "They showed the
true grit in the Revolution times. One of'em fout side by side
with gran'father, and got a bullet in. the left knee. I've heered
of it often, in the old winter nights, from gran'father."
"Frank," ventured Mrs. Liqndsay, speaking of the new teacher,
"is a nephew of Mr. Townsend?"
"Yes, my dear, on his mother's side," answered the clergyman.
"Poor blood!" remarked the simple-minded housekeeper to
herself.  "Always give out a little this side of seventy. Goodnatur'd, and fond of money, but always exact in their dealins."
"Mr. Townsend," said the clergyman, "is one in a thousand.
Amid all the temptations of commerce, he, from all I can gather,
maintains an unsullied name. Were it otherwise, believe me,
my son, I should hesitate long before intrusting your business
novitiate to his house.  Mr. Grosvenor, our village merchant,
who is one of his correspondents, represents him as a fair man
in the strictest sense of the term. He is spoken of by all whom
I find in connection with him as an honest, truth-telling merchant, and as they speak from a long business acquaintance with
him, and are themselves truth-telling men, there is good reason




22        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
for believing in the correctness of their report. With such a
man for an instructor and employer, you will, my son, enjoy
advantages which fall to the lot of few in their primary business
course."
" I feel grateful for them, father!"
"And I, my son.  But," turning  his eye towards his
youngest born, "poor Joe takes your departure sadly. How
mournfully he utters the solemn feelings of his heart! Poor
boy!" he added, stifling a sigh, "he is all heart!  Nay, my
dear;" to his wife, who was about to catch up the poor blind
child to her. breast, "do not touch him. Let him finish his
plaintive hymn; his heart will sooner be relieved."
"Poor Joe!" murmured Aunt Betsy, running  her needles
more furiously than ever.  "He will never hold out to his
people's seventy! Hearts like his were never made for a rough
world like this! Poor Joe- my natur's bleedin' for you, dear!"
Samuel was shaken in his resolution at the sight.
"Father," he whispered.
"No, my son —no," returned the pastor, shaking his head as
he met and understood the young man's glance. "Resolves,
once made, should be firm —if they be founded upon good intents
and worthy thoughts! Poor boy!" he added, alluding to Joe,
" it is natural to him to weep at small sorrows,-how much
more at great ones! A few days, and sunshine will come to
him  again.  Let him," he continued, with a violent effort to
recover his own composure, "let him sing out his grief-he will
be happier when it is told! To break your own resolution
would be wrong-to interrupt the outpouring of that little heart
cruel! Let us resume our discourse."
"Proceed, dear father."
"I had hoped, my son, that when I should be summoned from
my post, you would be my successor in that sacred office, as 1
succeeded my father, as my father succeeded his, and as he suo



WHICH: TEHE RIGrHT, OR TIE LEFT.              23
ceeded his, the original founder of our village church.  Nay, do
not grieve.  Let us rather consider the matter in a calm,
philosophic light, and not in that of feeling. MViy hope was a
cherished one, I confess; but it was not to meet with a fulfilment.  While it agreed with your own sentiments up to the
date of your entrance into college, it did not meet with your
views after your return from it. There your copious draughts
firom the luminous fount of varied knowledge, and your collision,
for the first time, with bold, cultivated, miscellaneous minds,
while they deepened and enlarged your own conceptions, gave
them at the same time another tone as well as a widely different
current. Bear in mind, my son, that I do not complain of
this; I only repeat it as a fact, or rather as an illustration for
your future, to- show you how radical are the changes in our
views when we associate or come in contact with minds to which
we are unaccustomed, and which have penetrated further than
our own into the enlightening realms of observation, general
learning, and mental criticism."
"I understand you, father."
"Nevertheless, my son, I shall give you an illustration in
point. You will, of course, understand it in the candid and
affectionate spirit in which it is uttered.  When you entered
college, it was to complete your studies for the ministry:
naturally supposing yourself fully qualified, in all other respects,
for that sacred calling.  While at college, you came in contact
with minds at least as pure, and, as you thought, richer in promise than your own.  These pure minds, so rich in promise,
measured the competence of men for the ministry by a standard
so high that it,drove you to a conscientious examination of
yourself.  That examination resulted in the conviction that
your qualifications for that highest of all human offices were
far below the prescribed standard. Sorrowfully, therefore, but
bravely-for it requires courage to comply with the mandate




24        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
of conscience when it bids us give up a long-cherished objectyou relinquished your aspirations for the ministry as a profession
to which you had not been called by your Creator: since, had
He called you, He would have endowed you with qualifications
which would enable you to follow it with benefit to Him
and honor to yourself.  This conclusion reached, and having,
like a right-thinking man, no disposition to waste your talents in
forbidden idleness, you turned your thoughts-shall I say at the
suggestion of another mind?-in the direction of worldly business. Business —which to the sanguine eye of inexperience, is
simply a mere lake, whose opposite banks, glittering with gold,
are distinctly visible and easily reached; but which graver experience knows to be a deceptive, seething sea, whose stormy
waters wreck daily thousands of brave men, and hurl them,
broken, beggared, unpitying and unpitied, on brankruptcy's
bleak, inhospitable shore. I make not these remarks, my son,
to discourage you-you know me better —but to open your
eyes to the real character of that world which you are about to
explore. You will find in it more savages-worse, civilized ones!
-than ever greeted the eye of Columbus. Creatures with all
the outward semblances of men, but with the ravenous appetites and ferocious natures of tigers-human beasts of prey,
who live by running down and devouring the vitals of credulous,
unsuspecting men."
Samuel looked thoughtfully in the fire.
"You may possibly regard the picture as overdrawn," continued the clergyman, quietly observing him, "but time will
evolve its accuracy."
"Are there then no good men there, father?" inquired Samuel,
looking up.
iMany," was the reply; " but their number is small, and themselves so scattered, and intermixed with the great mass, that it
takes time to find them. My dear," turning to his wife, and




WHICH:  THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                25
calling her attention to little Joe, whose head was bent upon his
breast in gentle slumber, " the pipe has played out its mournful
song, and the minstrel's spirit is with the angels. Mark the
smile which hovers around his little lips!"
Mrs. Lindsay and Aunt Betsy sprang to their feet at the same
instant. The tender-hearted mother was, however, the first to
reach the little dreamer, and catching him up in her arms, and
imprinting a fond kiss upon his pale forehead, she bore him from
the room.
It was now nine o'clock, Aunt Betsy's usual retiring hour, and
deeming it a good excuse for leaving father and son to a private
conference, which, her heart told her, they both desired, she bade
them good-night, and hurried after her mistress.
Her departure was followed by a short silence, which was
broken by the pastor.
" My son," he began, in a tone-which penetrated to the very
core of his hearer's heart, ".you will appreciate the feelings of a
father when he sees his first-born going out for the first time to
do battle with the world. However well he may have previously prepared him for the conflict, he cannot help trembling
for the result. The painful dread of uncertainty will creep in
upon him, and send a shudder through his breast, resist it as he
may.  He experiences then, that his child's hold upon his heart
is stronger than he thought, and that the boy is carrying the
dearest part of it away. He feels that his Young Hope is thenceforth a stranger among strangers; that he must now be his own
sole friend and counsellor; that he is treading perilous ground,
where a single false step is followed by years of. anxiety and
disaster; that it is youth and inexperience against a subtle horde,
who are veterans in guile; that he is now in a field whose stormy
din proclaims the ferocity of the conflict; where every man is
his own general and soldier, fighting his own individual battle,
little heedig and little caring whom he maims or slays, so he
2




26        WHIICH:' THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
come off himself with a victor's bays, and more-a victor's spoil:
in a word, that he is, with his youth and inexperience, in the midst
of a crafty, merciless throng, whose trade is pillage, and who
will destroy him-if they can! What wonder, then, if the sire's
heart be shaken in that solemn parting hour?"
The hand. of the father fell spontaneously into that of his son
as he concluded. The sympathizing touch was electrical.  It
opened wide the door of human nature's cells, and the sacred
streams darted forth like gushing lava, and mingled into one.
Their eyes met, and, yielding to their cienotions, they bowed their
heads upon each other's necks and wept.
A long silence followed, which was at length broken by the
-entrance of Mrs. Leland. The wife and mother paused a moment
to contemplate the picture before her; then approaching the
sighing pair, she put an arm around each, and burst into tears.
The clergyman himself was the first to recover his composure.
Then, giving one arm to his wife, and the other to his son, he
said, as they paced up and down the apartment:
"Your dear mother and I, Samuel, have to thank you for
nearly five-and-twenty years of parental happiness.  We thank
you for the comforting stream of uninterrupted joys with which
you have filled our hearts, fromn your earliest infancy. until now.
We thank you for your uniform piety, kindness, and affection;
for your uprightness in all things; for the love which you have
ever borne our King and Prince, your parents, your companions,
and your fellow-men; for the brightness of your example to the
mates of your childhood, your youth, and your young manhood;
and for the genial spirit of peace and good-will to man which you
have inculcated among your little friends in the secular and Sabbath schools.  We thank you for preserving the purity and
integrity of our own family name. And we thank you," added
the pastor, pausing, and placing his hands over the young man's
head, "for so comporting yourself all your days until now, that




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                27
wve can turn our eyes to Him, and say:' Lord of Righteousness,
of Goodness, and of Love! we. bless Thee for this, Thy tender
gift. Ever has he been to us, Thy servants, s thing of beauty
and of joy; never has he brought to our ey?? teasr-never to
our hearts a pang!'"
He paused, and trembling with emotions fi.de a ft,emli)iar sign.
All knelt reverently in prayer.
" Lord of the Heavenly Kingdom," beg;al the clergyman,
"three humble suppliants, who have heard of the greatness of
Thy heart, who have faith in the shelter of Thy'smile, and who
would share in the riches of Thy love, come to Thee. Of the
glory of Thy name, of the wondrousness of Thy power, of the
goodness of Thy heart, of the grandeur of Thy Kingdom, we
have heard, and believe. Turn Thine eye upon us; let us feel
the comfort of Thy presence; we are petitioners for Thy grace.
" Lord! the homle of Thy servants has long been in the shadow
of Thy love —we give Thee the praise.
"Our hearts have tasted of the sweetness of Thy smile-we
give Thee the praise.
"We have found peace in knowing and believing that Thy ways
are pleasant ways, and Thy people pleasant people —we give
Thee the praise.
"Long years of joy, from the dawn to the even, have been
granted us-we give Thee the praise.
" Thy name, and that of Thy Son, our Prince, have been to us
like the light of the morning-we give Thee the praise.
"Hearken to us, O Lord!
"A shadow darkens the home of Thy servants. A temporal
grief is upon us. Give us strength to bear them.': One whom we love, since he was Thy gift, is about to leave
us: give us strength to endure it.
"He goes in the way of Pride, of Temptation: give him
strength to resist them.




28        WHICH:  THE RIGHT OR THE LEFT.
"For evil will be about him, and upon him, and without Thy
smile to protect Him, and Thine arm to uphold him, he will fall.
"Stand Thou between him and evil, 0 Lord!
"Be Thou his Sun by day, his Star by night.
"Should it be Thy pleasure that he prosper, or Thy pleasure
that he fail, we shall bow, in either event, meekly to Thy will.
"But whether he prosper or fail, be Thou, O Lord! with him
a perpetual presence: whether prosperity or adversity, let him not
falter for a moment in his allegiance to Thee!
"Should it be Thy will to try his devotion with the temptations of success, give him strength, O Lord! to bear up against
them; ennerve him, day by day, that his heart may not wander,
a moment, from Thee.
"If it be Thy pleasure that he pass through the valley of disaster, that tribulation be the only reward of his efforts, and that
envy, malice, calamity and disappointment assail himn: Be Thou,
O Lord! with him in his hour of trouble; let the light of Thine
eye be upon him; preserve the purity of his heart, and give it
courage to endure bravely and loyally to the end.
"And when, at last, his day of trial shall reach the shadow of
its even, when his spirit shall lay down to await the coming
of Thy messenger, let the lamp of his faith shine dazzlingly a
little moment in honor of Thy name.
"And when his work shall be done, take him, O Lord! to
Thine own glorious kingdom, and let him be one of Thy people
evermore.
"Hearken to us, O Lord!"
The prayer was ended. The petitioners bowed their heads upon
their clasped hands, for a few moments, and then rose. Their
hearts were full, but not with sorrow. Their eyes were bright
but not with sadness. They greeted each other with a genial
smile.
As the petition approached its close, the petitioners themselves




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                29
experienced a sensation: Their perturbed spirits underwent a
gradual change. A holy calm entered and tranquillized their
souls, which then became heated with a gentle glow, and then
illumined with a mild, radiating light.
The joy of the petitioners was unspeakable; for they knew
that the SPIRIT OF THE LORD had been with them!
CHAPTER III.
NIGHT glided into morning. With the first gray streaks of
dawn, the inmates of the parsonage were up and stirring. Parents and son greeted each other joyfully; for the memory of the
Divine Presence was still in their minds, with all its inspiring
freshness. The glad tidings were revealed to the worthy housekeeper, whose pious heart was aroused into enthusiasm at the
news. From that moment a spirit of tranquil happiness took
possession of the household. Little Joe himself shared in the
general joy, and his pipe rang through the parsonage in strains
as lively and invigorating as a lark's.
Aunt Betsy declared that "the child must have bin communin
with naters as innocent, as his own, or else he could never have
woke up in such good spirits-perticklerly when he had spent
such a miserable evenin'!"
Whatever was the cause, Joe's pipe warbled merrily all the
morning: so merrily, indeed, as to bring Rover, the guardian
of the village store, on the opposite side of the road, over, who




30        WarICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
put his head in at the kitchen door and looked up in the little
minstrel's face, as if desiring to know what it all meant. The
morning, meal passed over cheerfully; and at its conclusion,
everything was got in readiness for Samuel's departure.  His
well-filled trunk was brought down; the lock examined and the
straps drawn an inch tighter than before, and the trunk itself
then placed beside the garden gate. Samuel drew on his overcoat, an example that was followed by his father, for the mnorning was fresh enough to render an extra garment exceedingly
welcome to those who contemplated a moderate drive.  Mrs.
Leland put on her hat and shawl, and taking little Joe, who
was also dressed for a journey, by the hand, she-quietly sat down,
with the others, to await the arrival of the vehicle which was to
convey them to the next village, where Samuel was to take the
cars.
As the kitchen clock struck seven, there was a rattling of
wheels, and immediately after a double-seated spring wagon,
driven by one of Samuel's former scholars, drew up at the gate.
The lad-a fine, bright, ruddy fellow of seventeen or eighteen
years-was dressed as for a holiday. He sprang from the wagon,
and was passing through the gate, when his eye fell upon the
trunk. He lifted it without ceremony into the vehicle, and then
passed to the door of the parsonage, where he found his late
teacher quietly awaiting him.
" Good-morning, Samuel!" cried the lad, greeting him with
a hearty air of mingled affection and respect.  "I see I'm not
too early for you. Folks all ready?"'Thank you, Charles-thank you. All ready. You are not
a whit too early, nor too late either. Have you breakfasted?"
"Oh, yes: an hour ago. I might have been here before.
But as seven was the appointed hour, I thought:it,,: would not
please you so well; as you always told me that punctuality, to
the letter, was ever to be remembered."




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                 31
"Right, Charles-right.  Never lose sight of that! Come ill,
my friend-come in!"
After a few minutes of courteous interchange, the parties left
the parsonage to take their places in the wagon. As they reached
the open air, they beheld a number of friends and neighbors
outside the gate, some waiting to take a parting look, and others
a parting grasp of the hand of their young friend.
This, however, occasioned but little delay, for all were aware
of the importance of time, and Samuel followed his relatives into
the vehicle. Upon taking his seat, he raised his hat to his
friends, who returned the salutation with a hearty cheer, and then
settled himself between his father and Charles, on the front seat,
the ladies and little Joe occupying the back.
As the wagon swept down the road, the field-workers and inhabitants of the cottages approached the fences and waved friendly
adieux to the general favorite as he passed by, while many wished
him a pleasant journey and a prosperous career in tones as loud
as they were hearty.
Samuel was touched by these evidences of affection and esteem,.and was frequently forced to return them with silent gestures of
farewell, as his feelings were too agitated to allow him to answer
them in words.
It was a sunny, bracing morning. The air was pure and
bright-a little keen, it might be, but not too much so for young,
vigorous blood like that of our hero.  With his parents and
Aunt Betsy, however, the case was different, and they were
not sorry to see their young friend Charles whip his pair of grays
into a lively, stirring trot.
But few words were exchanged on the journey-the feelings
of each being too deep for utterance.
The parents cast frequent glances at their son, but considerately forbore to add to the disturbance which the circumstances




32       - WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
of his situation naturally produced in his sensitive and tenderly
cultivated mind.
They were now within a mile of the next village; but, thus
far, with the exception of Charles, Samuel had not seen a
single face of his many little friends, He strained his eyes from
one side of the road to the other, in hope that at least one of
them  would appear and wish him  a kind word, but in vain.
The heart of the young man was grieved; for he had long
fancied that his own respect and affectionate solicitude for his
scholars were spontaneously reciprocated. But now that he was
leaving home, and perhaps. for the last time, not one of them
appeared to bid him a cordial good-bye-not one! An expression of sadness passed over Samuel's features at the thought,
while a tell-tale moisture at the eyes, of which he was wholly
unconscious, told the watchful orbs of his companions that he was
suffering in heart. Still no one ventured to remark audibly upon
the subject, feeling instinctively that such a course would be both
indelicate and impolitic.
A few minutes brought the party to a bend in the road, lead
ing to the next village. As they approached the turning-point,
Charles glanced archly both at the pastor and the ladies, who,
however, as their looks gave him to understand, had not the
slightest comprehension of his meaning, while they at the same
time desired an explanation. The lad answered them with a
shrewd, quiet grin, which was as little understood as the smile,
and they to whom it was addressed, had no help for it but to
wait patiently until either Charles himself or the cause of his
singular behavior should furnish them with a key to his mystery.
Meanwhile they were rapidly approaching the angle of the
lower road, into which they turned a few moments later, when
the two church spires and the scattered cottages of the adjoining.
village loomed up pleasantly before them.
As they drew nearer, all eyes were attracted to a gathering




WHICH: THE, RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               33
near the railroad tep6t, which was situated on the main road, or
rather street, as it was more generally termed, and then the
parties in the wagon began, as they conceived, to get a glimpse
of their young friend's meaning. Ere long they were confirmed
in the correctness of their conjecture.
Charles, who was all excitement, whipped up the grays, and
springing to his feet, exclaimed, while he waved his cap,
"Hurrah, boys! Here he is!"
A loud shout from the throng around the dep6t responded to
his cry, and a single glance in that direction told Samuel that he
was not forgotten by his little friends, who, headed by their new
teacher, and attended by many of their parents, were drawn up
in a body at the dep6t to bid him a tender adieu.
Touched by this unexpected evidence of his old pupils' affection, and sensible of the injustice which he had done them in
his thoughts, a gush of hot tears rushed like a flash of fire to the
young man's eyes. He trembled, and would have fallen, but a
whisper from his father of " Be firm, my son-be a man!" reonnerved and restored him to a full sense of his situation.
Dashing the tears hastily aside, he raised his hat and returned
the greeting of his little friends with a low, grateful bow. The
latter comprehended intuitively the state of his feelings, and
endeavored to reassure him by three prolonged, spirit-stirring
cheers.
Samuel, however, was not one to enjoy an ovation, nor anything else which would have the effect of making him..an object
of general attention,. and he heard with unmixed pleasure the
ringing of a locomotive bell which announced the rapid approach
of the train.
Charles, however, was perfectly merciless. He drove forward
rapidly and drew up beside the depBt, exclaiming, as he halted,
" Here.he is, boys. Three cheers for him now, and with a
will!"
1P




34       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
And they were given, Charles himself setting the example, and
joining in the roar with a lustiness which was distinguishable
from all the rest.
"Now, then," added the youngster, with the air of one who
knew perfectly well that he but uttered the sentiments of all
around him, and meant to have them complied with, "now, then,
Samuel, we want a speech. Come, no backing out. Are we not
your own boys-are you not our Samuel 2"
Samuel was agitated to a degree. He blushed, trembled,
and could hardly stand.  He wished himself away; shook,
turned pale and red by turns, and then wished himself away
again: and yet he felt that he was wrong, that his little friends
were right, and that they were yearning to hear a last word from
one whom  they loved; that they looked for it, as a matter of
course, that they would be disappointed very much if they should
not hear it, and that under the circumstances they were justly
entitled to it. He felt also that he desired himself to speak to
them; that his heart would be the better for it, even if he only
gave utterance to a single word. But yet he could not, so he
thought, speak that one word, if his life depended upon the effort.
He glanced reprovingly at Charles for placing him so rudely,.
as it were, in a situation of so much embarrassment, and yet he
knew that it was dictated by a generous motive, and that there was
not one in all the throng who loved him deeper, nor one more
anxious to hear the sound of his voice.
He rose to his feet, determined to make at least an effort.
Charles glanced at him, and detecting his weakness, cried out,
for the purpose of securing him a moment to call up his
courage"Now, boys, we are going to have it. But first let's clear the
air for him with an honest ring 1"
The " ring" that followed was" "honest" enough to satisfy even
Charles himself, who was at length compelled to bring it, with a




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               35
wave of his hand, to a close, in order to give Samuel an opportunity to be in time for the train, which was now within forty
yards of the dep6t.
A deep silence followed Charles's gesture, and Samuel determined to make an effort. His first attempt was a failure; his lips
appeared to be glued together, and it seemed impossible for him
to part them. Better success followed his second attempt, which.
was sustained by a violent action of his will.:
"My little friends," he said, in a trembling voice, "your kind
presence here to bid your old teacher good-bye has taken me
by surprise. I did not expect it, but I am grateful-very grateful-to meet you. I am about to leave you, but whether forever, or only for a season, I do not know; I would tell you
which, if I could. If you would make me happy while away,
write me as often as you can; and always let me hear that you
are good, that your new teacher loves you, that your friends
love you, that you love your Heavenly King and Prince, and
that you hope they love you in return. Should we not be permitted to see one another again here, let me hope that we shall
meet There. I would say more; I should be happy to take you
all, separately, by the hand, and tell you how happy each and
all of you have made me in our day and Sabbath schools-but
there is not time. The train is here, and I must go. Dear
friends, I love to look upon your faces, but I may not stay. I
love to listen to your dear voices, but I cannot now. Therefore, I must say to you, one and all, love me, for I love you;
remember me, for I shall remember you.  Farewell, dear
friends-farewell!"
There was no shouting now. They would have cheered him,
if they could —but voices they had none. They raised their
hands, they waved their caps. but not a sound went up, save a
deep, heart-breaking sob.




CH~APTER IV.
THE train swept  on, with its living freight; dropping here,
taking up there, and then sweeping on again, like a wild, fearful thing, that had a thousand miles to travel, and with but a
breath to do it in, —through the bowels of the hills, high over
the valleys, across wildly rushing streams, through the houses of
cities, grazing barns and churches, over trembling bridges and
dykes, through mountains of rock, across marshes and plainsroaring madly all the way. I-Halting suddenly-strange men
and women gliding in, strange men and women gliding out, and
then sweeping on once more-with now and then a screech like
that of the tempest in a rage. Then a ringing of a bell; then
a stoppage-strange men and women hurrying in, strange men
and women hurrying out; then a shock-then a start, and then
a long, unbroken roar, as before.
Samuel was on his way to the city.
Beside him, looking now through the small window-pane
near him, anon at the faces in the closely packed car, and
-glancing occasionally down at a soiled, crumpled morning paper,
which lay open on his knees, sat a tall, gaunt, broad-shouldered
personage, habited in a suit of black, the fineness of whose nap,
and the mingled neatness and symmetry of whose cut, stamped
their owner as a man of taste, as well as one of means.
The countenance of this gentleman was significant and impressive. A high, full, massive forehead, indicated it as the
temple of a bold and fruitful mind. The arched, protruding
brows told of keenly observant faculties, which caught meanings
at a glance; the eyes were large, clear, and apparently measurequ)




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                37
less in depth; the nose darted in a long, straight line from the
brows, its base marked on either side by a nostril whose bold
but delicately chiselled curve was significant of a high spirit,
which' it might be dangerous to arouse; the upper lip was small,
but it spoke of a calm, stern will, which would not be easily
shaken in its resolves; its lower neighbor was larger and fuller,
and softened the bold and somewhat cynical expression of its
mate; the chin was bold, but so softly rounded as to deprive
it of every vestige of harshness. The color of the skin was of
that peculiar paleness which is native to consumptives with
black, glossy hair, although the general aspect of the personage
was that of one in sound, if not robust health. The tone of his
face was on the whole pleasant, and would have been absolutely
winning, were it not for a sarcastic shadow which hovered around
the lips. Despite of this deformity, however, which disappeared
when its owner spoke, the general air of the stranger was well
calculated to impres's a looker-on favorably, while it could not
fail to command his respect. He was evidently one who both
mingled with and understood the world, and knew how to work
his way through it, with the shrewdest and bravest.
He paid but little attention to our hero at first; but in the
course of a quarter of an hour, he moved around in his seat,
and placing his back to the side of the car, he rested his head
in the palm of his left hand, and fixed his keen, penetrating eye
upon the young man's profile, studying feature after feature,
until he had taken a complete inventory of his nature.
" An honest, earnest, simple-minded youth!" he muttered
to himself, as he conipleted his quiet and unnoticed survey.
"I'll sound him."  Then slightly changing his position, so as
to attract the young man's notice, he said: " A pleasant day,
neighbor!"
"Yes, sir," replied Samuel, turning a little in his seat, so as




38       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
to obtain a view of his companion's features, "for riding in a
comfortable car, or a climbing jaunt among the hills!"
"Is there much pleasure in the latter?" inquired the other,
with a quiet smile which was full of manly sweetness, and which
revealed two rows of small glittering pearls.
" Yes, sir, when the heart and blood are young."
"Ah i" observed the stranger.  "But if the heart and blood
be old?"
"In that case, sir, they would, I fancy, prefer not to climb
at all."
"And yet," said the stranger, "that rule -vould hardly be
received in the world.  There, the old are in most instances the
best climbers."
"But not of country hills."
"Granted.  But of hills far more difficult to master, and
whose summits are rarely touched by the young."'
"Human honors?"' Yes.".
"I had thought them  hardly worth the seeking, sir," said
Samuel diffidently,"' and still less by gray hairs.  Give me one
-of.nature's green hills to mount before all the other hills in.the.:world!"
" So young. and yet so wise!" thought the stranger.  " He
has the ring ofthe pure metal; come, we'll try again.  It will
never do to  Cnfess defeat to a simple heart like this!"  Then
he said, in a tone which was tinctured slightly with a sneer,
"We are sometimes — governed in our choice by the consciousness of inability, and therefore prefer doing those things which
are within our compass."
Samuel reddened at the sarcasm, but did not permit him
self to venture a reply until he had recovered his previous
equanimity.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                39
" That, I judge, sir," he then said, "would be the most commendable course in all cases."
" The most prudent, no doubt!"
"Surely prudence is deserving of respect?"'That," returned the stranger, with a perceptible sneer, which,
however, as the reader will readily comprehend, was entirely assumed, "would depend altogether upon circumstances, and upon
the man. For instance, two soldiers, while returning to camp, find
themselves attacked by a number double that of their own; in this
situation one regards it as most prudent to run, while the other,
being made of different stuff, unhesitatingly shows fight. The
first loses his honor, while the second-"  He paused.
"Loses his head!" said Samuel, naively finishing the sentence.
"Would that naturally follow?"
" I think so, if the four had their wits about them," answered
Samuel, with a sinplicity of which he was himself unconscious.
"' But the' prudent' man-" suggested the other, for the purpose of drawing him out.
"' Would be in a condition to return with a force large
enough to capture the assailants without shedding a single drop
of blood!" returned Samuel.
"But his desertion of his comrade, independent of its baseness, has resulted in the latter's destruction."
" By remaining he might have met his own! Besides, there is
no certainty that both would not have been slain. Had the
second followed the same prudent course, the one would have
preserved his honor, the other his life. True courage does not
consist in foolhardiness, nor real wisdom in attempting impossibilities. As for myself," he added, modestly, "I should hesitate to undertake a task which my judgment whispered to be
beyond my capacity."
"'Know thyself,' is an honest maxim," said the stranger, "but




40       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
one wvhich few  remember. You, however," he added, dryly,
"appear to have studied it with care!"
"I might retort," said Samuel, with quiet firmness, "that to
neverforget one's self is equally as honest!"
"Good! I like the fellow's spirit. It is as refreshing as his
wit!" thought the stranger.  "I Men," he said aloud, "are sometimes tempted to utter as well as do things which they afterwards
regret."
"Surely they are not persons to imitate, sir! We owe more
to our self-respect than to our blood! Regret palliates, but it
does not atone for a fault. A man, in the heat of temper,
strikes his friend-maims him, perhaps, but his sorrow for the
act, while it may alleviate the anguish, does not do away with
the effects of the blow.  They are visible in the wound itself,
which, when healed, still leaves a-scar! Worse-in the breast of
him who gave it, lives the memory of an hour when he relinquished his self-respect and his claims to the character of a
thinking being, to the brutal hands of his riotous blood. How
much nobler to have sustained his moral manhood in that trying
hour, than to sacrifice it on so low an altar!"
The stranger could not help admiring the moral grandeur of
this sentiment, but he was too much of a man of the world
to permit his real thoughts. to be mirrored by his features;
and as his proud spirit revolted at even the shadow of defeat, he
replied, in: a tone tinged with a certain degree of irony"You think, then, sir, that a man should pass over the grave
results of his rashness without so much as a regret?"
" No, sir. I would have him avoid them altogether!"
"But if he be hot-blooded?"
"Does it follow  that he should be hot-minded as well?
Children are sometimes the creatures of impulse; but something
better is looked for in full-grown men. Brutes are the subjects




WHICH: THE  RIGHT, OR THE  LEFT,               41
of instinct; man, cast in a higher and more glorious mould,
the subject of reason."
"Not always," returned the man of the world, dryly.  "He
is more frequently the fettered vassal of society and its absurd
conventionalisms. Society says to him,'IDo as we do, think as
we do, comport yourself as we comport ourselves;' and he
meekly, or rather servilely, obeys. A'reasoning betng!' Why,
sir, he is the bondsman of his tailor, of his hatter, his newspaper,
his minister", his party, his'set.' His opinions are made by the
circle that he moves in, and he clings to them according as they
humor his own peculiar whims, which he innocently flatters himself
are genuine THOUGHTS, and as they subserve his various ignoble
interests. A' reasoning' being! HIe reasons as his' position' lets
him, and not like a free, unbiased mind. If he be a sordid, grasping money-getter, he reasons as the love of money will permit
him; if a fashion-follower, as fashion will allow him; if a drawing-room hanger-on, as the drawing-room dictates; if a partisan,
as his leaders prescribe; if a soldier, as the department orders;
if in any one rank of society, according to the usages of that rank.
A'reasoning being,' indeed! Let him but dare to show himself
a being of that exalted order, and society will ostracise him as if he
were a felon; it will shower upon him anathemas as numerous
and ludicrous as those fulminated by the impious simpleton of St.
Peter's chair himself; nay, every man, woman, and child will
rise up in virtuous indignation and hunt him like a wild beasthappily for the poor daring wretch, if they do not run him
down! True, now and then, a brave spirit rises, who sunders
and throws to the winds the fetters that had been imposed upon
his youth, and, strong in the consciousness of his genius and
his bold, energetic will, startles the world with the grandeur, the
brightness, and the dignity of his great manhood.  His mighty
mind detects and laughs to scorn the paltry fallacies which hold
society together; he sifts, riddles, and holds them up to the




42       WHICH: THE RIGIIT, OR THE LEFT.
ridicule of mankind-and then dares the combined efforts of
society to do their worst, and to move him if they can. Society
surveys him first with astonishment, then with doubt, then fearfor in him it has found its Master. The conflict is brief, for'where is the modern David'that will' grapple with a giant?
From  that moment society' quietly yields to this Intelligence,
~whose power is greater than its own.; it'caresses him, flatters
him, calls him  sweet names; terms him'queerl''original,''sagacious,' I bold, -quietly biding its time in the meanwhile, for
a faltering, careless, or unguarded moment, when it can turn, like
an avenging Wolf, upon the poor wretch, rend him, and slake its
wild thirst in the blood of his downfall! And yet you are pleased
to call this monster, Man, a'reasoning' being! Lord help us!"
"Lord help'us, indeed!" answered Samuel; "when a lofty
Intelligence like yours, sir, can find food for laughter, for mockery
at so sad a picture of humanity as that which you have drawn!
Ah! fiiend,-may I not call you so 2 —that is not kind, not generous, not iinble! There is a higher summit in the human mind
than Sarcasm —Magnanimity! The pipe whose songs are all of'bitterness dreams not of the joys of the harp whose strings are
touched by angels' fingers! Humanity, be it in rags or satin,
whether on the side of trutth or on that of error, whether noble
or ignoble, is still our brother. If'he be cast down, what a joy
to raise him; if ill, what a joy to nourish him; if struggling in
the waters of want, sorrow, calamity, or of error-what a pleasure
to rescue him! Say we should see a brother who is crazed in
mind, standing unconsciously upon the brink of a precipice; we
would not laugh in mockery at his peril, but lead him gently
back to safety, soothing him the while!"
The man of the world shook his head.
"All'very fine to talk of," he said, "but not to practise.
Angel hearts are not often found among men, nor among women
either. They prefer breasts of a sterner mould, and spare no




WHICH:  THE RIG.HT, OR THE LEFT.                43
efforts to render their own as hard as possible-and hard enough
they make them i The market, sir, governs everything; and that is
governed by the broad universal law of supply and demand. Now
the demand is unlimited the world over for that which will freeze
the human heart and make it colder, harder, and more capable
of resisting the appeals of Pity, Sorrow, Suffering, and Benevolence, than it is already; and the supply, if the truth must be
told, is far behind the demand! But there is no demand for
angel voices, nor angel fingers!  The harpist that would melt
their icy natures would be smiled at for his simplicity; if he
persisted, they would drive him off with ridicule."
"Surely men love not to be thought cruel!"
" Oh, no-not to be thought cruel! They would be regarded as
-mild, amiable, benevolent, magnanimous-because such a reputation pays! And therefore, as such a name can only be obtained
at a cost which they feel by no means inclined to pay, they unite
in constructing a general pleasing deception, which answers their
purpose equally as well as the original! Under the influence of
this pleasing deception, they get along very happily. They have
a substantial respect for everything that will pay -a superficial
sympathy, like the thin coating of an ice, for things that don't
pay. Thus, while each professes a tender interest in honesty,
they will let honesty itself starve, rot, die, ere they will help it.
True, they will give it advice-liberally, but not a doit, not a
sixpence to save it from starvation.  Honesty. Oh, yes —they
love it-at arms' length! They will follow it the world overseemingly! Hear themi talk, and pure honesty itself is an arrant,
transparent rogue to them!  They will not openly rob.  Oh,
no-that would send them to prison.  But they will lie-iin a
negative way; they will cheat-little by little-step by stepuntil their pockets groan with superabundance. Short measure
helps a little-adulteration helps a little-a gentle admixture ot
falsehood with to:,h helps a little-soft, unvarnished, but excusa



44       WHICH: THEE  RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
ble conventional lies help a little-all snugly glossed over by a
thin gauze of It pays! till each is a little Crcesus in wealth,
respectability, morality, and-honesty!  They honor virtue?
Yes, sir! From instinct, sir-from very love of it, sir-from admiration of it, sir! Virtue, sir I Virtue is a flower the fairest that
ever bloomed in the garden of the soul, sir. Why, sir, there was
my mother, my sister-the very.embodiments of virtue, sir. They
are gone now-they lie in Greenwood; the green turf over them,
and-'a tombstone that cost a thousand dollars-I can show you
the bill, sir! By-and-bye, Virtue comes along; her rags faintly
shield her gentle form from the cutting blast; gaunt want is in
her eye, hot famine in her cheeks; her step is feeble, her voice
low and -timid; while from the arches of her eyes, lustrous
with suffering, hunger has pinched a tear.'A  shilling, sirplease-I am sore beset; want is biting at my vitals; the cold
is cutting to my bones; my shoe is wearing at the toe, it is
worn already at the heel. I'm staggering towards the churchyard, with none to save me in the fall.  A shilling, sir-please'.
Oh, good woman, go to the alms-house-do.'They are all full,
there.'  Go to work, then.'I am too ill, too far gone, I'm
ragged, there is no work to do.' The times are hard, certainly;
but do run along-you annoy me-it's astonishing how full of
professional beggars the world is-an honest man can't pass
twenty rods without encountering the trumpery things at every
step-it's really too bad-he'll petition at once to have the
wretches kept out of the streets, and have them kept out, he will,
or know the reason why! Honor virtue, sir-certainly! What
a ridiculous question, sir! Do they honor Religion, too?  Oh,
yes.'They have found, they still find, and they hope they shall
continue to find, unspeakable consolation in its sacred fount.
Yes, they have experienced its solemn joys; they have a
grateful knowledge, ha  abiding sense of gratitude for Him
who died that they might live; they adore his holy name,




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                45
and hope to sing praises to him  in a blessed immortality.
They are conscious that but for religion society would have fallen
to pieces long ago; that it is at once the corner-stone of society
and the State; that without its sanctifying influences, public and
private morality would disappear, education vanish, business
shiver into atoms, property crumble into dust, the bonds which
rivet men together be sundered forever, and the human race
turned, like the sons of Ishmael, into homeless wanderers.
They feel their obligations to a system which has done so much
for them and for humanity in general. -There's Mr. Smith,
their preacher-they pay him six thousand dollars a year. Their
church cost them eighty thousand dollars; and they think they
can safely say it was dirt cheap at that. To be sure, there's Mr
Jones-a good man, who preaches in the little church around the
corner-finds it rather tight work, with his large fnamily, to
creep through on his nine or ten hundred dollars, but that's his
look out; and if his little church, with its humble congregation,
is struggling with two or three thousand dollars of debt, that's
none of their business. People ought to be careful how they
contract debts. If they want churches, and haven't got the
money to pay for them, let them  do without them.  What
business have people with churches when they can't pay for
them? They ought to look out and mind what they're doing.
As to'expecting help from them, they needn't think it. Sink
or swim, live or die, let every tub stand on its own bottom!
Do they honor Religion?  Yes, sir.!   And everything else
which they, as good citizens and good Christians ought to honor
-in a paying way!"
"This state of things, sir," said Samuel, "is very sad-too
sad for laughter, too sad for mockery! All men are not so
bad as you would picture them. But you omit all mention
of the good! Have you no kindly word for them 2"
" They have no need of any praise of mine!" returned




46       WHICH: TEE RIGHIT, OR THE LEFT.
man of the world. "The tranquillity of their own hearts is
enough. You remember the adage,' Virtue is its own reward!'"'
"Ah! would you but believe in that! Then would you
cease that icy sarcasm upon the failings of poor weak humanity, and that painful levity  when touching  on sacred
things!"
"Young man," returned the stranger coldly, "when you shall
have seen as much of this hollow world as I have-when you
shall have seen as much of its hypocrisy as I. have-when,
like me, you have drunk of the hyssop and the gall which it
puts to the lips of every young, confiding mind that falls within
its grasp-when you shall have imbibed from its tempting but
bitter chalice as deeply as I have, then you will despise it as
heartily and honestly as I do!"
"You have suffered?2"
"What matters that?  All men must suffer. That is the
price of association  with  your'reasoning' men; with  that
bright host of intellects who only resemble brutes in their —
acts!"
" Dear friend —may I take the privilege of calling you so?you have started wrong in life, for your own happiness. Pardon me if I am too bold; for you are further advanced than
myself, have necessarily seen more of the world, and may
therefore regard it as impertinent in me to tender counsel to
one so much my own senior in years."
"Let that pass," said the stranger, courteously.  "Wisdom
comes not always with gray hairs, nor does folly follow ever in
the track of youth. Proceed!"
"Many thanks! In man's brief passage over the high-road
of life there are. two pathways the Right and the Left: the
ne leading to never-ending happiness, the other to never-ending
Standing at the head of the first is an agent of the Prince
ght; at that of the second, an agent of the Prince of




WHICH: TEE RIGHT, OR THEE  LEFT.              47
Darkness. Says he of the Right,'Come this way, brother;
peace and concord are with us; the fountains on the wayside
are sweet, refreshing, strengthening-drink freely as you go;
anguish then will lose its keenness, sorrow then will lose its
depth, and bitterness its sting. There may be thorns of trial and
temptation on the way, but the thorns do not kill; there may be
rocks and ruts, and you may get sore and aweary-but the
rocks and the ruts can be borne: for there are soft resting.
places on the route, there is light all the way, and our Prince
awaits your coming at the end.  Come, come this way!' Ah,
dear friend! happy he who hearkens to this voice, and takes
the path so kindly, so earnestly pointed to his eye. For him
thenceforth' sorrow has no pain, calamity no sting. For him a
mild and pleasant heart-for him pure present joy-for him
prospective bliss, whose duration is eternal.  Says he of the
Left,'Come this way; we have pleasure and pride, and tempting
things to beguile you into waking and sleeping dreams which
shall last while you live. There are thorns on the way, it is
true, but we can show you how to blunt their points, so you shall
not feel their pain. We have ways of making the rocks softer
than couches of eider down; and then the ruts are all covered,
so you can avoid falling in. We have syrens whose voices will
woo you to short slumbers, music softer than that of the stars;
riches that will crush the voice of conscience and fill you with
the vanity of power;  rank, influence, and fame shall be yourscome and take them. You shall be strong enough to tread upon
your enemies, to grind down the poor, and gratify every whim.
Men shall wait upon your beck, slaves shall fly at your bidding, and you shall enjoy the fruits of pride, of wealth, of
worldly fame, of One-man power, to the utmost. We have arti
ficial lights all the way, and —owr prince awaits your coming, as
his prey, at the end' Ah! there. is anxiety among the angels
while the poor pilgrim is hesitating which road he will take;




48       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
there is joy in their hearts, if he turn to the Right, a song of
sadness on their lips if he walk to the Left. In his own heart
the spirit of good bows its head in sorrow and in tears, while its
foe, the spirit of evil, utters an exultant shout o'er his fall! With
him. mildew, with him blight, with him canker, yearning, disappointment, bitterness-evermore.  For though the world  be
bright, its brightness is not real; though it have its wisdom, its
wisdom is most pitiful; though it have its pleasures, they are
fleeting as the wind; though it has its lures, they are lures, and
no more; there is no substance in its joys, no permanence in its
glories, no honesty in its smiles, no stability in its riches. A
sense of insecurity, of temporariness, of unreality, floats uppermost in the minds of its votaries, neutralizes their enjoyments,
and fills them with doubt and dread of all around them, and of
The Beyond whither they are hastening. ANh! my friend, is this
a life to choose for happiness?"
The stranger made no reply. He dropped his deep, thoughtful eyes, and mused awhile in silence. At length he looked up,
and observed" I will not say it is a life to choose. But it is nobler to be
an open worldling, than to add another to the vast army of
hypocrites who use religion as a cloak with which to worm
themselves into the confidence of men, that they may the more
easily betray it!"
"What need of joining either?" asked Samuel, calmly.
" R6ligious hypocrites are simply worldlings of a subtler order
than the herd! They.are in the Church, but not of it. If they
deceive men, they do not deceive themselves, and still less
Him  whom  they profess to serve.  In the meanwhile they
are marching onward, like other worldlings, to their reward.
But why should an earnest heart be governed in its conduct
by them   Would a man hesitate to enter a gold mine and
enrich himself with its dazzling stores, because its entrance was




WHICH: THE RIGHT, ~O  THE LEFT..49
strewed around with fungi? It is the gold he wants, and not
the fungi. What is the fungi to him? If the gold be there, and
can be reached-that is all he needs to know; and then fungi
or no fungi, the gold he will have! And are not peace and concord in life's journey, and the certainty of an eternity of bliss at
the end of that journey, worth an earnest effort, whether hypo.
crites be in the Church or no! Say he will not, even for his
own salvation, enter the Church, because hypocrites are there,
but hold on doggedly to the world, will he not also find them
there?"
"'Granted. But there is a satisfaction in knowing that you
are dealing with a scoundrel; on the other hand, you are never
safe-the man whom you most regard, may be simply a rascal
in disguise. What satisfaction in that 3"
"None, I confess.  But what satisfaction there can be in
either case, I am unable to comprehend. Surely to know a man
a scoundrel is to know him to be in peril, and therefore to warn
him of his danger!"
"For doing which, my  friend, nine times in ten, the
scoundrel would knock you down!"
"He might, and he might not. In any event, I should have
done my duty; and that," he added with his usual simplicity,
"' would compensate for the fall!"
The stranger was too well bred to indulge his inclination to
laugh outright at this naive reply, but he could not wholly
subdue a lurking smile. Still the honesty, the earnestness and
the simplicity with which it was uttered, made a deep impression
upon himn; while he could not resist the conviction that the
speaker was rising gradually higher and higher in his esteem.
" Come, sir," he said, at length, and-with a cordiality of which
he was himself unconscious, "you are a good fellow. What
you have said is no doubt all: very fine, and very true, and to a
certain extent I agree with you. But it will not do-I say it as
8




50       WHICH:  THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
a friend-it will not do to carry these views with you into the
world.  They would be laughed at, and yourself covered with
ridicule. Nay, hear me-one word! Men in the gross are arrant knaves, unworthy of a single thought from  a mind like
yours. They are vile, ignoble, and stubborn as asses. They
will listen to you with wonder, marvel at your simplicity, and
wind up by hooting you off and making you a target for their
small wit. Let them  run! No efforts of yours can save them.
Their natures are grovelling-let them pass on to the perdition
whither they are bound. If you would be popular with them,
drop down to their own level. If you would be hated, reviled,
persecuted, rent in pieces, attempt to stem  the tide of their
iniquity, and your wish will be gratified. But if you wish to
prosper, like other men, you must drop down to the level of
other men, be base and mean like other men-and lie, cheat and
steal —conventionally, of course, like other mnen. Swim with the
current, drift along with the great human tide, become one of
the world, since you are in it, or you will live and die a beggar!'
" I thank you for your counsel," returned Samuel, who was
touched by the kindly spirit with which it was tendered, "but I
cannot consent to follow it."
"As you like, friend!" returned the stranger, coldly. "The
fellow is a simpleton!" he muttered to himself.
"I had a previous counsel," continued Samuel, observing with
pain the change in the stranger's manner.
" From one who understood the world?" asked the stranger,
in surprise.
"Better than all within it!"  The stranger laughed.
"A wonderful fellow, indeed!" he said, with an ill-concealed
sneer.
"My PRINCE!" returned Samuel, solemnly.
The sneer disappeared from the stranger's lip. A tear leaped
to his eye. He bowed his head to the rebuke. A dreadful




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR TEE  LEFT.               51
paleness swept over his countenance. For a few moments he
was like one dead.
He recovered slowly. Then looking up, he extended his hand
to the young man, and said, in a voice that was far from tran
quil- 
" Follow the counsel of your FRIEND, sir! Far be it from
me to shake youi confidence in it, or Him.  Worldling as
am, I bow to the beauty, the grandeur, and the humane spirit
which beam in the language of the Cross. Go on in the course
which your Redeemer has pointed out. It is the only true
one!"
"May I not add, friend, of our Redeemer 2  Surely you-"
"Enough," interrupted the stranger; "I understand you, and
will think the matter over. At some future time we may perhaps meet again. But stay-here is my card. Put it in your
pocket. One of these days, when you have nothing better to do,
give me a call. I shall, believe me, be happy to make your
acquaintance. Meanwhile, if I can, in any way, serve you, do not
hesitate to inform me of the fact."
" I thank you, sir!" answered Samuel, returning the warm
pressure of his hand.
"And now favor me with your name," said the stranger; "I
should like to know it, if for no other reason, to remind me of
one who has caused me some pleasant railroad hours."
Samuel complied with his wish, and the stranger put the card
on which it was written carefully in his pocket-book.
"Thank you," he said. "'And now, sir, shake hands. We are
approaching Utica, where I get out, and where business will
keep me over till to-morrow. I shall be in New York the day
after, and will esteem it a favor if you will then drop me,
through the city post, your address. I shall observe your course
with interest; and believe me, nothing will give me more satisfaction than to learn that you maintain, at every hazard, your




52       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
devotion to the Right, never wandering, even in thought, towards
the Left."
" Many thanks, sir. I shall endeavor, with the kind aid of my
Prince, to endure loyally to the end."
" Do so,-and be happy. But here we are at the depot. Goodday, my friend!"
Samuel returned the warm  pressure of the stranger's hand.
The latter then passed from the car, and disappeared among the
outside throng. Samuel reflected a few moments upon the peculiarities of his late companion; and then, with the ease of mercurial youth, turned his thoughts upon his own affairs.
The train swept on with its living freight; dropping here,
taking up there, and then sweeping on again, like a wild, fearful
thing, that had a thousand miles to travel, and with but a breath
to do it in-through the bowels of the hills, high over the valleys, across wildly rushing streams, through the houses of cities,
grazing barns and churches, over trembling bridges and dykes,
through mountains of rock, across marshes and plains-roaring
madly all the way. Halting suddenly; strange men and women
gliding in, strange men and women gliding out, and then sweeping on once more-with now and then a screech like that of the
tempest in a rage. Then a ringing of a bell; then a stoppage
-strange men andwomen hurrying in, strange men and women
hurrying out; then a shock, then a start, and then a long, unbroken roar, as before. Then a ringing of a bell; then a wilderness of houses and of steeples; then a low, sullen roar, as of a
thousand steeds and chariots rushing madly over the earth; then
the din of varied voices-" Have a carriage, sir?  Right off to
the Irving House!"  " Carriage, sir? Astor!"  "Carriage, sir?
carriage?"
Samuel was in the city!




CHAPTER V.
TAKING a conveyance, Samuel proceeded at once to a hotel.
The following morning, he inquired for and found his way to
the dry goods house of Mr. John P. Townsend, to whom he had
a letter of introduction from his father.
Samuel was somewhat astonished at the magnitude of the
establishment. It was a little world in itself..In the elegant
language of " down town," it was " a dozen large stores knocked
into one." To the eye of our simple-minded hero, it was a wilderness of little low counters, standing every which way, with a
thousand little bewildering passages, leading anywhere and
everywhere, but nowhere in particular. The little low counters
heaped with piles of bright, dazzling calicoes, which threw silks
and satins into the shade-sheetings, Whiter far than snow —shirtings bleached, shirtings brown, shirtings striped-merinoes of
more hues than were ever discovered in a rainbow-de laines of
every figure and color that ever glided through the grotesque
mind of a draughtsman, or combined under the fanciful pencil of
a painter-flannels, broadcloths, cassimeres, tickings, were visible
everywhere, and in a profusion that was both stirring and aweinspiring to behold;. in large heaps; and little heaps, with here
and there a vacant space, telling of perhaps a great big heap
which had just been whipped away by some invisible hand for
packing, with lots of other heaps, in some invisible box, and
dispatched by order to some invisible customer, living in some
invisible corner of the country, whose name is duly registered
as that of a " very esteemed" correspondent of the invisible firm
of this very visible " house."
(ta)




54       WiHnICH: THE RIGHT, OR THEi LEFT.
Amid this vast waste of counters, calicoes, sheetings, flannels,
shirtings, broadcloths, cassimeres, tickings, merinoes, and glittering de laines, might be seen, here and there, in the little, narrow,
wandering passages, like bees peeping out from the cells of a
great hive, in quest of daylight, a scattered army of young
clerks.
One is " laying down the law" of prices to a new customer, who
is supposed to believe every word of the young gentleman's
statement, that " their house can sell him lower- by a great deal
than any other establishment in town, as he himself can see, by
the very low figure which they put upon their goods. They can
furnish him with everything in the way of dry goods that he may
want, as their immense, he may say, their unequalled, assortment
easily enables them to do. They can do better by a dealer than
any other house in town, as everybody knows, because their
enormous capital gives them facilities which smaller concerns
cannot of course command.  They wouldn't like to have the
statement get abroad, but they know that there isn't a house in
town that can begin with them, either in variety, freshness, quality,
or quantity of stock. As for the way in which they serve their
friends, there is one fact that can't be got over, viz.: that no
dealer who once opened an account with them was ever known
to leave them. They believe in accommodatinrig their customers;
because they know, from long experience, that that is the only
correct policy  it enables customers to do their own bu.iness
more promptly, consequently more extensively; and that, as the
gentleman himself can see, is to the interest of both parties. As
for packing they never charge a friend for that-he can have all
of his goods sent in to them, and they will pack them for him
freely, indeed gladly. Then, in the way of time, they flatter
themselves they can tender customers all the satisfaction they
can possibly desire. They believe in giving a man an opportu.
nity to turn himself around, without squeezing him;-they never




WaIcH: THE RIGHT, OR TH'E LEFT.               55
think of selling their friends on less than six months, while they fre.
quently sell them on eight, and even nine, if that will serve them
better!"
All of which the " new customer" is supposed to drink in with
a simplicity and gusto truly rural and refreshing.
In another passage, another spruce young gentleman is regaling
a Western buyer with a true and reliable account of his difficulties
in "getting through the custom-house" the brilliant French
moussellin de laines which the buyer is examining so closely, and
which were imported by their house, expressly, all the way from
-the State of Massachusetts!
Another young gentleman, who looks as if he had just come
out of a band-box, so nicely is he "got up," is assuring another
Western buyer that the de laines he is looking at are warranted
not to fade-without washing.
A third is industriously engaged in assuring the country dealer
at his side, that " them prints have just been opened; that they
are the latest styles; that they came in for the first time that very
morning; that the cases from which they were taken can be seen
down stairs in the packing department"-judiciously omitting all
mention of the fact that they had been quietly stored away up
stairs, near the roof, for some three or four years.
A fourth is doing the agreeable to a young, inexperienced
rural gent, who desires a " blazing stock of roaring goods, which
will enable him to smash up an old-established rival-an old
fogy who will shortly find that Young America is too much for
hinm, and who will have to vacate in double quick time with his
antediluvian traps, and give place to one who can whip his hide
off any day in the way of trade."
A fifth, pale and languid from the last night's spree, is driving
away a sick headache in a bold effort to "rope in" a close,
shrewd old codger from the interior of the State, who always
makes it a point when he " comes down" in the spring and fall,




66       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
to call in at that very store, run through all the goods, learn all
their prices, and to invariably go away without "making a
bill."
A sixth is "feeling" a Missouri gentleman, who "has been
buying in St. Louis heretofore, and who has now come to New
York, to see if the difference between St. Louis and New York
prices is great enough to make it an object for him to change.
Of the two, he would rather buy in New York —they gouge a
fellow so in St. Louis, that a man can scarcely pay his bills and
live. What he wants to come at now is, whether New York
prices and the freights —freights are positively awful, almost
bad enough to compel a man to throw up business altogether!
-foot up in the gross so as to fall below the prices of St. Louis,
and leave a small margin besides. If so, he is going to change
the direction of his trade, right quick. He's been gouged by St.
Louis long enough; and if he's compelled to submit to its monstrous extortions any longer, it won't be his fault!"
A seventh is exercising his own lungs and the patience of a
cautious old dealer at his elbow with information to the effect
that he is " absolutely buying too little of that print. It is perfectly new; will be all the rage, and if he isn't careful he will
be caught napping." Old gentleman shakes his head, and hasn't
the least fear of being detected in that way, at all. Young gentleman insinuates that he'd better reconsider the matter; that
print will have a desp'rit run, and what will make it very bad is
the important fact there is only a small supply of it in the
market." Old gentleman will run the risk of all that. Young
gentleman " thinks he'd better be careful, now-he'd better take
a few more pieces."  Old gentleman quietly but firmly declines,
and they pass on to other patterns.
An eighth is selling a tremendous bill to an Illinois friend, an
old good-natured customer, who always pays, and who always




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                57
takes whatever is suggested to him by that clerk, in whose judgment he has far more confidence than in his own.
A ninth is earnestly urging a Jersey friend, who buys moderately, and always for cash, that he'd better "go a bigger assortment" and heavier lots of each. Jerseyman is very modest, very
cautious, and "thinks not. Besides, he only brought a thousand
dollars for his dry goods, and that is now nearly all used up by
what he has already laid out."  Ninth suggests that Jersey,
whom he knows to be "good as wheat," "needn't let that deter
him, as he-Ninth-will sell him all he wants, and take his note
for the amount at six months."  Jersey thinks he has got all he
wants now; as to notes, he never gives any. " Don't know what
might happen. Suppose he should die, and he had notes outwhat then? They would create trouble for his executors, and
that wouldn't do. Besides, his family would'nt like it. They
never gave notes, because they knew very well there was no
telling what might happen. Suppose one of them should die,suppose he should die himself, and with notes out that the estate
couldn't pay-what then?"  Ninth was "quite willing to run
the risk."  Jersey quietly affirmed that "he was not," and Ninth
smiled like a gentleman suffering with the toothache.
A tenth is telling an eleventh confidentially, how he is looking
every moment for " a Buckeye, a particular friend of his, who,
whenever he comes to town, never makes a bill of less than five
thousand dollars, and always pays cash." Eleventh smiles incredulously; as Tenth has been telling that same story for more
than two years, and the Buckeye hasn't made his appearance
yet! Tenth grins and colors up, and says, " he's looking for him
any how, and means to wait patiently till he comes." Eleventh
impressively intimates that he will wait for the Buckeye a long
time.
A twelfth is explaining to an old customer, who, as the house
has recently discovered, is rather loose in the joints-loose in
3*




58       WHICH:  THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
the joints meaning that his ability is as dubious as his willingness
to pay-" how the house is now only selling for cash, its numerous heavy losses of late, by the caving in of many of its oldest
and heaviest correspondents, having driven it to that course; how
it will sell him very, very low, and thus make it -an object for
him to buy; how it-the house-has closed all its accounts, and
is now selling wholly and exclusively for cash." Loose-in-thejoints is somewhat taken aback at this startling intelligence:
" thinks it is hardly fair treatment to one who has dealt with the
house so many years, and always paid so punctually; and would
like to know the meaning of it," although he knows the meaning
of it very well already.
A thirteenth, who is noted throughout the establishment for
his "sharpness," is "managing" a Michigan gent, and "putting
him through" on "scientific principles," which few in his way
understand or know how to practise better than himself. He is
regarded as a star of the first magnitude in his line. He can
handle the oldest, shrewdest, and closest buyers with equal dexterity. He can tell the character of a customer at a glance.  He
has a trick of " sticking" old shop-worn goods upon the shrewdest,
and of making them believe that they are the latest patterns out.
He possesses a " knack" for making the most cautious dealers
buy at least five times as heavily as they designed when starting
away from home. He will convince the oldest buyers, by evidence which is wholly overwhelming, of their utter ignorance of
the first rudiments of their own business, although they may
have been pretty successful in it for more than thirty years;
and he will satisfy the youngest and most inexperienced that
they are perfectly " posted up," and that they will ere long
wholly " use up" their competitors, and whip them clean out of
sight: all of which the buyers unhesitatingly believe, although
they are somewhat staggered in the end at the enormous'bills
which Thirteen adroitly led them to insensibly run up, while he.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                59
was duly impressing them with a "realizing consciousness" of
these flattering facts. Indeed, so firmly established is Thirteen's
reputation in this respect, it is a common saying in the trade,
that "when a dealer passes through his hands, he comes out likea squeezed lemon."
Thirteen's present victim is a "very knowing" gentleman from
Michigan, who innocently flatters himself it " will take a smart
fellow indeed to come it over him. He understands himself, he
does. lIe aint bin in trade twenty years, right in the face
of the tearingest opposition a merchant ever had, for nothing.
No, indeed!  IHe has bought cloth, he has bought dry goods,
and what is more, he allers knew how to get rid of all he bought.
Now, although it don't invariably foller that because a man
knows how to sell, he knows equally as well how to buy, he
kinder reckons he does know a little of both. So it's no use in
anybody's trying to come city dodges over him, because he knows
all about'em. He's bought in New York afore-he has; thinks
his face is known to afew of the houses there, and that many of
the biggest on'em wvould be mighty glad to get his name on
their books and his note in their hand for a few thousands. But
he is keerful-he is; and when anybody gets his note, he is
allers a leetle curis to know what it's for. As to putting old
shop-worn goods on to him, they can't do it, and they might as
well know it first as last. As for decoying him into the purchase
of goods that he don't want, that can't be did, nuther, and they
might as well know it, too. And then as for stickin' him on big
bills, when he only intends to make small uns-let'emn try it,
that's all! When he comes to New York, he comes there to
buy, like an honest merchint, and he don't mean to be chiselled.
If any of the fellers there are smart enough to lay him out, let
them try it on; he's willin'!"
To all of which Thirteen smilingly accedes, and after two
ho.es of mingled flattery, insinuating smiles, and masterly man



60       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR TH e: LEFT.
agement, Michigan is "laid out," with all the honors; Thirteen
deeming it a point of honor to "chisel" him to the fullest extent
and in the most-scientific manner: with a magnificent array of
old shop-worn goods, a moderate proportion of articles really
fresh, and all at prices which would fill a tyro with amaze-the
whole terminating in a bill which shook poor Michigan for the
next six.months with all the agony of pecuniary terror.
Samuel, however, was too ignorant of the business details of a
New York dry goods jobbing-house to comprehend more of
the picture before him than appeared upon its surface. All he
saw was what his eye took in, and that told him simply of a vast
store, a vast stock, a vast body of clerks, a vast business, and
vast wealth: all of which impressed him with a certain sense of
awe, which he found it difficult, for a few moments, to subdue.
He did subdue it, however, and then calmly bent his way to the
nearest clerk.
"Is Mr. Townsend in?" he inquired.
"Yes, sir. Walk this way," was the polite reply.
Samuel followed his conductor, who was some years younger
than himself, through a long line of sinuous passages, towards the
rear, where three steps led to a platform, on which were three
small but spacious offices, whose glazed fronts commanded a
view of the entire floor. The office on the right, as a showy sign
near its door indicated, was that of the book-keeper and his assistants, who could distinctly be seen through the panes; the one in
the centre-the largest of the three-as the lettering on its door
made evident, was the private sanctum of the head of the establishment himself; the third, on the left, which had no sign at all,
was the office of a personage of no little imnlportance, either in his
own eyes, or. those of the establishment, viz.: Mr. Edward
Brigham, the confidential clerk.
His young guide opened the door of the central office, and
pointing to a gentleman who was sitting before a showy but




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                61
massive walnut desk, leisurely running his eye over a morning
paper, Samuel found himself in the presence of his fuiture employer.
Mr. Townsend was a tall, portly man, with a fine Grecian head,
which was covered with a superb shock of coarse but snow-white
hair. He had a blue, pleasant eye, and a pleasant, well-cut lip:
both of which told, however, of a calm, resolute will, and a happy
temper, which could not be very easily disturbed.
The merchant received his visitor with a genial urbanity, which
speedily set the latter at his ease; and ere twenty minutes had
flown, the latter was as much at home in his presence as if he
had known him for twenty years.
It was to his indomitable, resolution, which smiled even at impossibilities-to his constant good-nature, which made him  a
general favorite, and to his happy talent for placing himself and
all around him on a genial footing —a rare faculty, and one which
few men know the value of, or it would be more extensively cultivated —that the merchant owed a large share of his prosperity.
To these, however, must be added a somewhat elastic conscience,
which enabled its owner to "lie upon occasion," in a business way,
without remorse, and to do as all other people did who were not
above making money, and were above letting the world know to
what small meannesses they were capable of descending for Clie
purpose of obtaining it. Still Mr. Townsend, as the world goes,
was by no means a bad man. He could lie when it served his
pecuniary interest to do so, but then he flattered himself that, as
a business man, he was not alone in that little weakness, "and
besides, who knew it, and what was more, who wouldd,'t?"  He
paid his employees liberally, because he was sagacious enough to
discover that that was the truest business policy. " It brings- the
best talent in the market to your hands," muttered the crafty
worldling, "and the best talent brings in the most business, and
the most business brings in the most money!"  He had a name




62        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
for liberality in his church, and that name brought him numerous
customers; he had also, in his church, a name for fervent piety:
"And that," mused the cunning merchant, "' is a paying thing, too
— for piety implies honesty, honesty begets confidence, confidence
brings business, and business brings money!" He had a name
also for frankness: "Frankness," thought the wily merchant,
" helps one wonderfully as a name. It begets frankness in others,
and that sometimes helps a man, who has means in his pocket,
to golden opportunities. Besides, it preserves one from a suspicion of depth. To say of a man' He is deep,' is to say' Look
out for him!' and that is ruin. Men have an instinctive dread of'deep' persons-they smell theft, heartlessness, and treachery in
them. But frankness inspires confidence, and with it, for a name,
one can be deep without being suspected; and then he can play
deep, and that brings money!" Still, as the world goes, Mr.
Townsend was by no means a bad man. He always kept his word
-because it paid; was punctual in all his engagements —because
it paid; liberAl-because it paid; good-natured-because it paid;
frank-because it paid; and what the world calls'pious'for the same weighty reason. And yet, Mr. Townsend had his
good traits, as well. He was occasionally generous from impulse, and what he agreed to do in such moments, he always
honestly fulfilled-so far as the world knew!  Thus he had
promised, some years before, having no children of his own, to
take care of two orphan nieces, both of whom had been left with
property; a promise which he honestly fulfilled, as all the world
knew-but as all the world did not know, he was handsomely
rewarded for his benevolence, b~y leasing their properties at certain fixed rates, and then renting them out on his own account,
realizing about one hundred and twenty-five per cent. by the
operation. This fact. however, was known only to himself, and
as he never presented the young ladies with bills for their board,
they, in common with all the world, regarded' guardy" as A




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                 63
"dear good soul; whose great heart would be the ruin of him
some day!"
The simple inhabitants of Enfield innocently believed the
reports which reached them from time to time from the city, that
of all their number who had left their native village for the metropolis, Mr. Townsend alone was the rare exception, who, amid all
the temptations of commerce, preserved intact the piety of his
youth and the great nmoral trust reposed in him by his Maker!
" Well, Samuel," said this "good man," in his mild, pleasant
way, "let us come to an understanding. My dear friend, your
father writes me that you desire to learn the dry goods business,
with the view of entering it, at a future day, on your own account.
Well, that presupposes a clerkship; and that in our establishment?"
Samuel bowed.
"'ery good," continued the merchant, genially. " Now, then,
for the consideration.  In our business, the' salaries of clerks are
graduated by the sales which they effect; or, more properly speaking, by the amount of business which they influence. For instance, if you should influence sales to the amount of thirty
thousand dollars, you would be worth from  eight hundred to a
thousand dollars a year. That is the average trade influence ofwhat we call our clever clerks.- Others run higher, and their
earnings are in proportion. Some, but their number is few, influence business to the amount of one hundred and one hundred
and fifty thousand d~ollars. These are worth from three to three
thousand five hundred dollars per year. RLather princely for a
mere clerk-eh, Samuel!"
"Very, indeed, -sir! Have you many of that description in
your establishment?"
Two only —which is just one more than most houses can
boast of. One of them  is Mr. Brigham, our confidential clerk,
and the other a Mr. Stubbs. The first earns from thirty-five hundred to four thousand dollars a year; the second from  three




64,      WAHICH: THE RIGHT, O   1i THIE LEFT.
thousand to three thousand five hundred, although we have known
him, in one or two instances, to run up as high as thirty-seven
hundred and fifty. That is the gentleman out there," and he
pointed to thirteen, whose features were illumined by a peculiar
smile, which his fellow-clerks understood very well to mean that
he was " doing his man up brown."
"He looks cheerful!" observed Samuel.
"Yes," returned the merchant, " he is'getting on' with his customer. A man of talent, Samuel, and understands himself. He
will be a merchant yet!  You would do well to court his
acquaintance, Samuel. He can teach you more of the business
in an hour than you could pick up yourself in three years!"
"Indeed, sir?  I thank you for the kind suggestion!"
"You are welcome. But to return. It is usual in our business to put new-comers into certain departments: for instance,
to give to one the charge of the ginghams, to another the prints,
to another the merinoes, to a fourth the bleached muslins, to
a fifth the cottons, to a sixth the flannels, to a seventh the
cloths and cassimeres,-and so on; changing them from time to
time from one department to another, till they become perfectly
familiar with the character, qualities, and prices of each and all.
This takes from one to two years, during which time we allow
them from fifty to a hundred dollars per annum. When they
have become posted up in all the details of the business, we then
send them off on short drumming tours —sometimes South, sometimes West —to see what they're made of. If they are successful in drumming up customers and influencing business, we then
raise their salaries, graduating them, of course, by the amount of
business which they influence. In your case, however, being a
friend, we shall deviate slightly from the regular course. We
will put you, for instance, in the gingham department, and let
you remain there till you become familiar with its details, when
you can change off to another, and from that to another, until you




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                65
obtain a complete general knowledge of the business, and then
you may stay altogether in the store and attend to the chance
customers."
Samuel expressed his acknowledgments for this favor, and
the merchant continued" For this we will allow you, for the first year, three hundred
dollars; your salary for the second will depend considerably
upon yourself. If you are smart, and study the interest of the
house, we may find it advantageous to raise it to six or seven
hundred. Is this satisfactory?"
"Perfectly, sir!" answered Samuel.
"'ery good. Then you can enter upon your duties when
you please. Let us see. This is Wednesday —half of the week.
The other half you might as well employ in becoming acquainted
with the city, and brushing the effect of its novelty from your
mind. On Monday morning, you can commence fresh and lively,
and with your wits about you. You will want them all," added
the merchant, laughingly, "in the dry goods business!"
"I suppose so, sir!"
"You will be sure of it, ere you get to the top of the ladder!"
rejoined the merchant, with genial significance. "And now to
another matter. Your father desires me, in his letter, to give
you, if possible, a home in my own house, where you will enjoy
the benefit of the pure society to which you have been accustomed. This is a very natural request on the part of my worthy
friend the pastor, but I hardly know what to say. It is so uncommon for a merchant to take his clerks under his own roof, that I
must think-yes, I must think the matter over a few minutes!
Let me see-let me see!"
And the merchant's pleasant eyes dropped thoughtfully upon
his desk.
Samuel was under the impression that this was already decided
upon, and a promise given by Mr. Townsend to his " dear friend,"




66        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
the pastor, to that effect; but, as the merchant had apparently
forgotten it, our hero, with his usual diffidence, did not deem it
either just or delicate to remind him of the fact.
"If I take this young man to my house," mused the " honest'
merchant, "I shall make-what? Let me see. There are four
of us, and I am the only man. The ladies want society, and this
young fellow is young enough,: handsome enough, and intelligent
enough, to meet that want, and give it zest. The girls, too, need
an occasional jaunting companion, and Samuel will meet that
want, which will be a great relief all around-and particularly
to myself, since he will fill the post, which has been too. long
expected of' guardy,' who can then be a little more of his own
master. Then, too, the young dog is handsome enough to give
some uneasiness to Brigham, who fancies himself perfectly secure
in the affections of my eldest niece, and rides of late altogether
too high a horse in consequence. He thinks that with her fortune and his own savings, he could make an effort on his own
account, and give the house of John P. Townsend a stout tug,
posted up as he is in all the details of its business and the qualities of its customers. Hie might prove a troublesome competitor, and, should he wander to any other house, an annoying enemy.
To bring him down a peg or two, would do him no harm; while
the dread of a rival would lead him quietly to a more proper
appreciation of his p's and q's: an important object, since he feels
his oats a little too proudly. Thus will this young simpleton pay
me handsomely for the pure society which he will find under my
roof! There are rooms enough to spare, and his food would be
of but little account. It would not do, of course, to charge him
anything —it would sound bad; while to give it to him would
sound well. The amount would be too insignificant to make a
figure of; while the act itself would be talked of greatly: and
that, in the end, would pay. I have not to learn, at this late day,
that every dollar given, with an appearance of liberality, returns




WEICH: THE RIGHT, OR TIHE LEFT.               67
four-fold to the giver. Yes, I see-I see. It will pay, in more
ways than one, to take this young simpleton home."
Having reached the end of his soliloquy, the merchant flung
his pleasant glance upon the young man, and said"I have been thinking, Samuel, how we could make room for
you, and at length see my way. It appeared rather dubious at
first; but one must stretch a point for a friend. Besides, the old
village is dear to me, and by having one of its sons near me,
when business cares are over, I shall, as it were, be in beloved
Enfield again. Ah! the bright memories of youth, how we cherish them in our age! With you at our board, I shall be happy;
youth will return, with all the richness of its glittering visions;
boyhood will come again, like the fond dream of a long and joyous holiday; the village green, the emerald fields, the verdant
hills, the old school beneath the church, and the old church itself,
which our sires built long years before, and from whose pulpit
our venerable  pastor-your grandfather, Samuel! —used to
point our little hearts to heaven-these will all return, to rejuvenate this old frame and fill it with childhood's laughing joys.
Yes, for old Enfield's sake, your dear father's, and your own, my
friend, we will break through custom, and enjoy the same fireside!"
Samuel was touched, to the verge of tears, at this kindness;
and he looked the gratitude which he felt, but could not speak.
" As to recompense," pursued the crafty merchant, "we'll say
nothing. Study the interest of the house, and that will be
enough. I will send a messenger up with a note to Mrs. Townsend to prepare her for your coming, and you can remove your
trunks up and take possession of your room any time after two
o'clock."
Samuel bowed. His simple heart. was full. He could not
speak.
"You will find your mate in the gingham department,"- con



68       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
tinued the merchant, whose keen eye divined the nature of the
young man before him, " a fellow after your own heart. He is
clever, generous, frank and honest; a little given to impulse, but
full of talent. His namne is Gibbs-Charles Gibbs. He is out
at present, I see," he added, glancing through the glazed partitition, "or I would call him and introduce you. It will be all
the same, however, for I will speak to him on his return, and let
him know that you- are coming."
" Thank you, sir —thank you 1" cried Samuel.
"You can draw your salary every week," continued the merchant, "and thus keep yourself in spending money. By the
way," he added, suddenly taking out his pocket-book, with a
generous air,': how are you off for your immediate wants? Be
frank!'
"I am amply supplied, sir-many, many thanks!"
" I knew that, or I had not asked him!" muttered the merchant
to himself as he quietly returned the wallet to his pocket.
"Ah!" he said, aloud, "in that case, all is well. But if anything should turn up in future, remember that we are both sons
of old Enfield, and command me without reserve! And now,
my friend, shake hands. I'll see you at dinner-if not, then at
supper!"
Samuel withdrew, and returned to his hotel, with feelings
which we shall not attempt to describe.




CHAPTER VI.
EVERYTHING moved smoothly with our hero. He was received
by Mrs. Townsend and her two nieces with much cordiality, and
his time passed away pleasantly. On Monday morning, he
made his appearance in the "gingham department," which consisted of six little low tables, heaped with all sorts of patterns
two and three feet deep, with occasional spaces to indicate " lots
just sold" to somebody whose name and local habitation were
matters of deep commercial mystery.
The clerks stared furtively at the handsome new-comer, and
whispered together very knowingly, very grinningly, and very
mysteriously; and cracked sundry jokes at his expense, all of
which were doubtless very full indeed of rich, mirthful meaning,
as each invariably elicited a smothered roar, in which it would
be difficult to say which predominated, the snicker, the giggle, or
the broad guffaw.
One-a young gentleman of twenty, with a very flashy vest,
a very' flashy coat, very flashy trowsers, very small patent leather
boots, a very high collar, which threatened-: every instant to cut
off his very large ears-considerately inquired of the new-comer
whether the fields were well cultivated up his way, and if so,
whether the cabbages grew very big? -A,second, equally as
witty as the first, curiously inquired whether there were many in
his family, and if so, whether their phrenological developments
were as well developed as his. A third wanted to know how
many hundred thousands of dollars he expected to sell in the
course of the coming week, and whether he had any idea of the
price of putty? A fourth had a desire to learn how ginghams
(69).




70        W 10HICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
were-whether up or down, out or in?  A fifth wondered
whether the circus had ever passed through his village, and if so,
whether he had seen the elephant?  A sixth asked him, with a
serious air, when he designed to drive that fast team out on the
avenueS A seventh thought itwould be cruel in him to show
his handsome face on Broadway, because it might have the effect
of breaking up ever so many matches which were now looked
upon as regularly settled, as well as tempt a great many women
to snatch him up and run off with him. An eighth hoped he
would never set the North River on fire, as he-Eighth-had on
the Jersey side a whole lot of property, which, not being insured,
he wouldn't like to see burnt up. A ninth suggested that in
case he should conclude, on the strength of his first year's salary;
to run the old house a stiff opposition, he-Ninth-would like a
situation at a moderate salary, say of three thousand a year. A
tenth hoped he wouldn't start an opposition to the old house,
because in that case, he-Tenth-would soon be out of a situation. An eleventh had an idea that he wasn't long for this
world, and wanted to know if Second Gingham —Gibbs being
First Gingham-wouldn't give him some spiritual consolation,
as he thought it might help him some in going off. A twelfth
hoped that, in case he should sell out all his ginghams before the
week was over, that he would come and give hima a lift in the
de laines, as they wanted to be sold mighty bad, because they
disliked very much to remain any longer in the vicinity of a
stick. A thirteenth had an idea that flats had an advantage over
common people, because, when they had made their piles, they
always had a big house to retire to-viz.-the lunatic asylum.
Ai;d yet these witty young gentlemen were charitably supposed by their friends to possess an average share of intelligence
and self-respect, and to thoroughly understand the laws of good
breeding!
There were two exceptions, however, who considerately re.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LE:FT.              71
frained from joining in the hue-and-cry against "Second Gingham"-viz. First Gingham, and Bill Bradley, the packer.
Charley Gibbs-'First Gingham-was a young- fellow of twentythree: moderately good-looking, a little dressy, somewhat simple,
thoroughly honest, slightly observant, rather generous, exceedingly impulsive, and running over with ideas, which, if not very
brilliant, very deep, or very original, were invariably vry harmless. He had three passions: first,' to make old guardy disgorge
that money;" secondly, "a silent interest in some big house
which would give him a cozy living without requiring his services;" and thirdly, "a cozy cottage, with his dear little Fan,
who, poor thing! was dying herself to death for him, all the
time."
Bill Bradley, the packer, was a tall, gaunt fellow, of about
tventy-five. He had the build and pluck of a gladiator, and
"didn't turn his back to no man in packin'. He ran with'fortyfour,i and allers stood up for his number. When there's work to
do, he's'around,' he is; when the hall bell rings, he's on hand to
roll the machine and put the first stream on the fire. He aint
much in the schoolin' line,'cause he had to go to work in them
days; but he understands the four rules for all that, and can
cipher'em up with any man. To learnin' generally he don't make
the first claim; but he knows what's right, and he aint afraid to
do it. He's down on lyin', cheatin', and bullyin'; and any man
that's mean enough to do either he can lick. He don't owe no
man the fust red; and if any man's got a claim agin him, let
him step for'ard with his bill. He allers does his duty,'cause its
his natur, and he'll thank anybody to point out to him wherein
he fails to do it. He's down on everybody who's mean enough
to take advantage of another's weakness or ignorance, and what's
more, he can take their hides off. He only gets fifteen dollars a
week, but he reckons he can live on that, and keep square with
the world, too. Does he save money'  No, sir-ee!   Ie j'es
don't. How in reason can he, and pay all the bills as they come




72        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
along?  Tell him that, will you!  How many cases of goods
can he pack in a day? Fifty, sir-and strap'em all over, too.
If you've got any packers down your way, who think they are'some' in that line, send'em along, and he'll give'em a few
lessons that'll make up modest!  What does he do with his
fifteen dollars? Do you want to know very pertickler? He
puts it in his pocket! Who was that old lady that Tom Bates
saw him taking to church last Sunday night? That's the blessedest old creeter of her age in the country, sir-yes, sir, in the
country. She's a dear old soul, and likes to go to meetin','cause it makes her happy. She aint got her ekewil for goodness,
bless her dear old heart! in the world-no, sir, not in the world!
Do I allers go to church with her? Yes, sir; and glad to do it.
too! Why, sir, that dear old lady brought me up, from the
time when I was a little toddler not half so high as that case;
and why shouldn't I be glad to take her to meetin' so long as it
makes her happy?  Is she my mother?  No, sir, not by natur.
We adopted each other when I was one-and-twenty, and so it's
all the same, sir. Have I got any father? No, sir; he died when
I was a little babee, sir-he was a fireman and a widderer, and
got killed one night at a fire. Ile used to board with the old
lady, and when he got killed the old lady took me under her own
protection. A noble act? Yes, sir-ee! It wasn't nothin' shorter.
She was a poor woman; and two years after, she got burnt out,
and that made her poorer still. She then took in washin', and
brought me up like a gen'leman till I was ten years old, when
she got the pallysis-paralysis-in her left shoulder, and then I
went to work to help both ends along. Four years after that,
the poor soul was taken down to the hip, and then I had a chance
of showin' her what I could do in return for all her kindness.
From  that day to this, we have got along first rate.  The
old soul is a good manager-very economical, and the way she
can make her one hand fly through a new pair of pants, or a




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE  LEFT.               73
new fire shirt, which she makes up for me very often, sir, would
put life into a whole hospital! Cant't anything be done for the
old lady's pallysis? Well, we've been tryin' everything for more'n
ten years; but they haven't done much for the old soul yet. But
there's no knowin'-some'n  lay turn up. There's an ingeneis
feller-a watch-spring maker-up  our way, who's makin' a
merchine which he thinks'11 cure it. But he aint got it done yet;
says he will, though, one of these days, and then we'll give it a
trial. How long has he been at it? About three years. He's
goin' to get a patent out, when it's done, and if it's the thing he
says it is, it'll make his fortune. Does the old lady suffer much?
Guess you'd think so, sometimes. But the dear old soul says
she's so accustomed to it, she'don't mind it: but that's all put
on, you know, j'es to keep me from grievin'! What do I think
of religion? I think it's a good thing,'cause it makes my old
lady happy: anything that'll do that, in a sufferin' case like
hern, must be good. Least ways, I think so, and I'll stand up
for it, no matter who's agin it. I aint much of a religionist
myself, but I respect it,'cause I've seen the blessedness of its
fruits. One of these days, pr'aps, I'll go in for it, the whole
figur; iii the meantime, I'll respect it,'cause there's no tellin'
when the hall bell may ring a poor fellow's last turn-out!"
Neither Charley Gibbs nor Bill Bradley countenanced the popgun volleys which were discharged so mercilessly, at the newcomer; while the latter put an effectual stop to it, in his department, at least, by giving his assistants notice that if they " didn't
know no better than to guy a fellow because he was a little
green, he'd take'em in hand and learn'em beans, in short order.
They were green themselves-yes, softer than mush-once;
and they oughter remember it. If they didn't, he had some'n
would bring it back to'em-some'n he could use i"
As his listeners understood very well that Bill Bradley never
talked this way only when. he was in earnest, and as they.had a
4




74        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR TIlE LEFT.
wholesome respect for the "some'n" to which he so impressively alluded, they were careful thenceforth how they spoke of
Second Gingfham in his hearing.
Up stairs, however, thwe being no Bill Bradley to put a stop
to it, poor Samuel endured for a time all the humiliating mortifications which little minds know so well how to inflict upoh
new-comers, especially when the latter are from rural districts
whose inhabitan'ts are comparatively ignorant of life and the
world. There are bounds, however, to manly patience; there
are limits when human fortitude yields to human infirmity;
there is a point when the " old Adam" of every heart bids its
owner to stand up manfully and strike a brave blow for the dignity of poor human nature. That hour came around at length
to our hero.
He had been in his new situation about six weeks, during all
of which time he had patiently submitted to the gibes and sneers
of his fellow-clerks, all of whom, with the exception of Charley
Gibbs and Bill Bradley, as we have already mentioned, vied with
each other in the number, variety, and coarseness of their jokes
upon Rural Piety, as Thirteen had facetiously styled the newcomer.
Samuel bore with them all good-naturedly, innocently supposing that the witlings would get tired of their sport by-and-bye,
and relinquish it of their own accord. He was averse, both
from principle and education, to checking it by physical force;
and yet he had fears that he would eventually be driven to that
course: still he hoped' not, and he endeavored, by refraining
from  replying to their attacks, to escape the humiliation of a
quarrel, which might eventuate in an exchange of blows.
But his hopes were destined to disappointment.  The gibes,
and sneers, and jokes, and tricks continued with undiminished
vigor. Nay, finding no resistance on the part of their victim,
whose simplie, truthful nature beicameo day by day more ai3d




WHICH: THE RIGHT, DR THE LEFT.               7T
more developed, the witlings concluded to "rake him," as First
De Laine expressed it, without mercy.
Ever an early riser, Samuel was generally the first at his post.
His seventh Monday came around. On reaching the store at his
usual hour, he was somewhat surprised to find his fellow-clerks
assembled in full force. They received him with a politeness
which was as, grateful as it was novel, since it appeared to imply that they had, either from  remorse or some other cause,
concluded to give over their attacks, and allow him to attend to
his affairs in peace. He remembered, too, that on the preceding
Saturday they had annoyed him less than usual; that, in fact,
the storm had settled down into a comparatively quiet calm;
and he innocently flattered himself that their hearts had at length
suggested to them the wrongfulness of their course.
Samuel's dream of peace, however, was destined to be speedily
and rudely swept away. A new mortification was in store for
him. While on his way through the narrow passage leading to
his own department, his elbow  struck against a protruding
" piece" forming one of a pile of de laines, which had been previously so arranged that the slightest touch would precipitate the
whole to the floor. Samuel saw through the trick in an instant.
His cheek flushed indignantly; but restraining his feelings from
an outburst, he meekly and sorrowfully picked up the fallen
pieces, placed them in a neat, compact heap, and then, with a
sigh, passed on to his post.
The clerks looked at one another with a knowing smirk, which
seemed to say-" Won't there be fun by-and-bye?  Ohj no!"
A half hour passed by, duiring which time the clerks, forming
themselves into little knots of twos and threes, conversed in
low tones, throwing their eyes every now and then in the direction of. Rural Piety, who was leaning against one of his tables in
an attitude of deep thought. It was: evident from their manner




76       ~WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THEE LEFT.
that they were enjoying something which their active imaginations told them was overflowing with rare richness.
While the innocent young witlings were amusing themselves
thus, another of their number-First De Laine himself-entered
the store.
"Hurrah, boys-here he is!" cried Second Broadcloth to his
companions. "Now fit. fun!"
" Take care, Tom," said another, "don't get mad now. Rural
Piety couldn't help it!"
" Couldn't help what?" demanded First De Laine, with affected astonishment.
"Oh, nothing," was the reply.
"You're a fifer!" observed First De Laine, contemptuously
as he passed On to his department.
The clerks laughed, and looked towards Samuel with an air
which said" Won't you catch it, now? Oh, no! Of course not!"
First De Laine was a showy fellow of about twenty-three,
and was made up in the tawdry style of the " fast" youth of
the metropolis, who make up in show for what they lack in
principle. First De Laine was regarded as a fine salesman,
and could spin out a good round lie, in all its delicate details, with a dexterity truly marvellous.  His earnings were
large enough to enable him to "drive a'fast' horse," but too
small to allow him to pay his landlady, and hence he was continually changing his boarding-house, and "doing" credulous washwomen. First De Laine was familiar with billiard-rooms, theatres, and sparring-cribs, and was regarded by his fellow-clerks as
high authority in everything pertaining to sporting matters,
whisky punches, and fancy things generally. He was a regular
attenda:t at boxing exhibitions, and considered himself as'some' in that line himself. Finally, First De Laine had a




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                77
reputation among his fellows of being a " high boy," and " considerable of a bruiser."
This individual, on reaching his department, discovered that
some one had been " mixing up his patterns," and with a loud
oath demanded who had been near his tables, accompanying the
inquiry with a look which implied that he would do something
very terrible indeed to the offender.
On hearing the inquiry, Samuel at once replied" I think, sir, I am the unfortunate party. While —"
"You?" thundered the other, interrupting him with a fierce
scowl, which was of course entirely assumed, " you, you doubleheaded squash!-you, was it? If you take such a liberty again,
I'll mash your soft pate into buttermilk!"
" had no intention, sir," returned Samuel, coloring to his
temples, " of-"
At this instant his voice was drowned amid a loud, simultaneous roar, in which " Go it, Tom," "Pitch in to the country
lout," "Let him have it," "Show him beans, Tom," "Drop the
smooth-faced hypocrite," "Give him a sweetener in the gills,"
mingled with deafening'hoots, and yells, and cat-calls, went up
from all parts of the store.
The simultaneousness of the tumult took our hero somewhat
by surprise. He saw in an instant that the calm of Saturday
was a mere blind, that the incident of the falling of the de laines
was a planned thing, that the anger of First De Laine himself was
altogether put on, and that his fellow-clerks had no disposition to
let him up. The coarse language, too, of the " fast" young man
was in itself of so provoking a character, that it is no wonderi if
he to whom it was addressed felt for a few moments that there
are seasons when the gentleness of the Christian can only be sustained by'the firmness of the man.
"Sir," he said, grasping the fast gentleman firmly by the collar, and looking him boldly in the eye, " you owe it to yourself




78        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
and to me to take back every word that you have uttered.  Do
you hear me, sir —every word!"
"Take your hand from off my collar, fool!" cried the fast
gentleman, rolling up his cuffs like one who intended to make an
example of somebody, "take your hand from off my collar, or
I'll drop you!"
Samuel's grasp tightened; his eye was slowly kindling, and
an expression of resentment was gathering around his firm lips.
An indignant glow suffused his countenance from the chin to the
temples.
"You have forced me to this, sir," he said, "and you shall
abide the consequences.  Come, sir," he added, dragging the
struggling fast gentleman down the passage towards the large
space between the counters and the doors leading to the street,
"your desire shall be gratified. Come, sir-come with me to a
spot where we call turn around!"
"Let me go! Take off your hand, or I'll mash you into
mince-meat!" cried First De Laine, struggling, but vainly, to release himself. " Let me go, I tell you!"
"Come, sir-come!" said the aroused Samuel, firmly, and
dragging him along as if he were a mere infant.
"Let me go, will you? Let me go, I say!" continued the
fast young man, striking at him blindly, but without making allny
more impression upon his nerve-strung opponent than if his blows
had been turned against a rock. "-Let me go!"
"Come, sir-come!"
" Let me go, will you? Let me go, I say!"
They had now reached the end of the passage, and were, so to
speak, in an open field.
Samuel instantly grasped the fast gentleman by the shoulder,
and looking at him sternly, said —
" Now, sir, one word before we proceed further. You have
made use of language which may be natural to men of your




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                79
stamp, but it is not of a kind to which I am accustomed, or to
which I will submit. Take it back, sir-take it back-every
word, or I will treat you as I would a mad dog!"
"I'll see you — "
Before he could complete the sentence, before he could lift a
finger, Samuel caught him. by the body-between the breast and
the hips-lifted him up as if he were a feather, shook him like a
quivering aspen, and then set him down, pale, helpless, and exhausted, upon the floor.
"There, sir! sit there, till you are favored with manlier
thoughts and a cleaner tongue!"
With these words, he turned from the spot, and, with a calm,
dignified step, retraced his way back to his department.
Bill Bradley, who had been a silent spectator of the scene, now
approached First De Laine, whose head was bowed upon his
breast with an air of abject humiliation, and looked down upon
him for a few moments as upon something equally amusing and
offensive.
Then bending his tall form, he caught the defeated individual
by the collar, and raised him to his feet, saying" Well, ole boy, you are a pretty one, aint you, now? Ah!
go'long-you make me sick! Come, propel!"
And to expedite the worthy fast youth's progress, he favored
him with a gentle tap behind, as a father might spank an unruly
child, and then turned from him in contempt.
First De Laine glared at himn for an instant, as if he meant
to resent the indignity; but a single glance at the manly proportions of the packer brought him to another conclusion, and
he returned to his tables, his cheek white with mingled shame,
bitterness, and rage.
The effect of Samuel's conduct in the affair was electrical.
From the moment when he first laid his firm  hand upon the
collar of the fast young gentleman to that when he had closed




80      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
his account with that individual, his fellow-clerks-who beheld his
resistance with as much interest as surprise-preserved, as if with
common consent, a deep silence, for the double purpose of catching
and enjoying every word of the combatants, as well as of witnessing their movements without interruption. The result of the
contest was so different from that which had been looked forthey having regarded Samuel as a " milk-and-water genius," and
First De Laine as a " sporting gent," and therefore a " dangerous customer"-that their sympathies turned with the change;
and as the victor returned to his ginghams, they testified their
admiration of his course, or rather of his spirit, by three hearty,
generous cheers.
Not content with this, they crowded around him with their
congratulations, and vied with each other for the pleasure of
taking him by the hand. " Bravo, Greeny'" —cried one, "you are
a trump, after all!' " Gve us your hand, old boy," said another,
"I like your pluck."  "Good, Gingham," said a third, "you've
got the right stuff in you-you have, and blame my buttons,
if you didn't serve him just about right."  " Hurrah!" exclaimed
a fourth, "tip us your maulers-you are one of'em, and no
mistake. If you didn't give it to him pooty, I wouldn't say so.'
"Hey, Gingham," joined in a fifth, "you're the boy for my
money. I'll bet high on you. You're game up to the hub. Lay
it there, ole feller!" he added, as he extended his open palm to
the victor.
Samuel submitted passively to their felicitations; and as they
returned to their respective departments, he bowed his head in
thought.
"You appear disturbed," remarked a voice near him.
Samuel looked up, and beheld the mild, pleasant face of
Charley Gibbs.
"I feel ashamed of myself," returned Samuel. "I have done




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                81
that for which I should weep: I have disobeyed the Divine injunction:'When ye are reviled, revile not again."'
" O come, come, Samuel, don't give way to that notion. It
won t do in this every-day world."
"For what world will it do."
" For heaven, I suppose," said Charley Gibbs, who was rather
taken aback at the question.
"For heaven? There are no revilers there."
" I presume," said Charley Gibbs, "it is meant for us, but I
don't see how a man can carry it out, unless he is willing to be
kicked from world's end to world's end. I know one thing,
however, and that is, very few attempt to comply with it."
"That should not govern me, Charley."
"Very true. But in that case, men will say you have no
spirit-and they will treat you with contempt."
" I have no desire to be regarded as a person of spirit."
I"  know that, Samuel; but you mustn't be too mild, either."
It won't do. Men, who are naturally bullies, will take advantage of it, and serve you like a dog, just to show their own
spirit. My parents brought me up just so, too; but when I
mingled with the world, I soon found that it wouldn't answer.
Now, just look at your own case. So long as the clerks thought
you a non-resistant-one. who would patiently endure everything, they put it to you strong; but the moment they find
you will resist, then they fawn upon you, and tell you you are
a good fellow. That is the world, Samuel. It don't relish
meekness, because it savors of goodness; but it does relish pluck,
because it savors of its own brutal nature. And this gives me
an idea."
"Ah."
"Yes. If you want to be respected, you must get into an
occasional fight, to let the world know you are a man of spirit;




82       WHICH: THE IRIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
then you will be admired: otherwise it will regard you as a
spooney, and treat you accordingly."
"But I do not wish to be thought a man of spirit."
"That makes no difference at all," said Charley Gibbs. " Even
in a career of gentleness, you cannot succeed without a previous
reputation for pluck. For instance: Two men of equal piety
set out in doing good. The one is uniformly meek, gentle, and
dove-like, and we'll say, timorous as well. He goes among his
friends and makes an earnest effort to relieve their temporal
wants, and to lead them spiritually aright. They listen to his
counsels, they partake of his benevolence, but they pay no heed
to either. Why?  Because they know him to be a weakling!
Let him go out among strangers, where his lack of physical
courage is unknown, and moral force will follow his benevolence
and his preaching until his timidity is discovered. Then his
influence vanishes like magic; the moral force which accompanied
his labors dies out, and the man himself is a nullity from that
hour. Why? Because there is, in the minds of men, no moral
force in timidity. The other goes on a similar errand; and
there is a double power, a doubly moral force in his benevolence
and in his pious teachings. When he puts on the garments of
meekness, the effect is deep, stirring, and wholesome. Why?
Because the man himself is bold, brave, intrepid, and-they
know it. He is meek from principle, not necessity, and they
respect both the man and the principle.' He could be brave,'
they say to themselves,'but voluntarily is meek.' That settles
them; and admiration of the man leads thenr to an honest ad miration of his principle.  That is why he is successful. The man
first, the porinciple afterwards!"
"The Bible teaches no such doctrine as that."
" No. It is the doctrine of human nature. I discovered it
some time ago," said Charley Gibbs, "and it suggested to ine
art idea."




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR TEE LEFT.                 83
"Indeed!"
"Yes. You see I am myself naturally of a timid, retiring
nature. I detest violence, and have no sympathy with brutality.
I like to see everything harmonious, and everybody gentle.
The sight of two men quarrelling or hitting each other makes
me nervous, and I feel like running away, lest I should myself
get mixed up in it, and somebody should hit me. This consti
tutional weakness came to the knowledge of my guardian, who
imputed it to cowardice, and he flattered himself he could easily
do me out of my property, as I would be too timid to fight
for my rights. This reached my ears, and it gave me an idea."
"Ah! You appear to have a great many ideas, Charley!"
" I think," said Charley Gibbs modestly, "I can flatter myself
a little in that way. You see, Salnuel," he continued, with an
air of innocent simplicity, which would have elicited a smile from
any other than the ingenuous mind before him, " I have been
favored with large intellectual faculties. The phrenologists tell
me they are a great deal larger than common.  My ideality,
for instance, is higher than seven."' Indeed 3"
"Yes. And that accounts for the rapid flow of my ideas. I
write poems occasionally. for the newspapers and magazines;
and every line has an idea."
" And do they accept them 2" asked Samuel, innocently.
" Oh-yes, in some instances."
"And publish them?"
Charley Gibbs hesitated.  He didn't like the question.  He
looked Samuel steadily in the eye, as if he suspected some hidden meaning, or some satirical thought. But he was soon satisfied that his interlocutor had put the interrogatory in perfect
simplicity and good faith, and he said, not, however, without a
slight blush"I cannot say that they have published any of themn yet; but




.84      WHEICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
they evidently mean to, or they would return them. They ale
keeping them, I presume, in reserve, to be used at the first opportunity. You see editors are perfectly flooded, every day,
with communications from all parts of the continent, and it is
impossible to get them all in at once. Every accepted article is
placed on file, and has to wait its turn for insertion, so the editors tell me: and that is the reason why none of mine have yet
appeared. But I have copies of them at home, and I'll lend you
a manuscript volume of them with pleasure."
"I shall be most happy to read them," said Samuel, naively.
"Thank you. I'll bring the volume to you to-night," said
the delighted Charley, who now felt sure of at least one reader.
"It will be too much trouble-"
"Oh, no-no trouble at all," said Charley Gibbs. "I'll take
advantage of the opportunity to spend the evening with you."
Samuel was very grateful, and told him so.
Charley Gibbs bowed, and then Samuel wanted to know what
his idea was.
"I'll tell you," said Charley.  s The moment I learned
guardy's notion, I concluded to show him that he was laboring
under a mistake in regard to his man. So I went to a boxingmaster, who gave me some lessons, and then I picked a quarrel
with the old fellow's son, who deserved a thrashing for trying to
cut me out with a certain young lady who is devoted to me, and
to whom I am engaged, and 1 gave him the finest flogging he
ever had in his life. The fellow told his father, of course-I
knew he would-and it rather startled the old gentleman's caculations. He found I could fight when occasion called for it,
andit made him a little more civil."
"Did he give up the property?" asked Samuel, with his
usual simplicity.
"No; but it made him respectful towards me, and that was
something. Finding that it worked so well, I made it a point,




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               85
for a year or two afterwards, to get up a quarrel with his son
every time I met him; and as I invariably flogged him, and as
it invariably reached the old gentleman's ears, the consequences
were as happy as could be expected."
" The old gentleman relinquished you the property?"
"No; but it made him excessively respectful, whenever I
called upon him for money, which he forked over without grumbling: a thing he never did before."
"What kind of a man is he V"
"Crafty as a lynx, and avaricious as a Jew. But I'll make him
disgorge the whole of it yet, keen as he is; and then I mean to
marry my Fan, who, dear little thing, is crying herself to death
for me all the time, and buy a silent interest in some big dry
goods house, which will allow me a cozy living without requiring
my services."
"Have you taken any active steps in the matter? asked
Samuel.
"Yes. I've put it into the hands of my lawyer, who says he'will recover every cent of it for me. The old gentleman is a
sharp old fox, and gives him a great deal of trouble; but my
lawyer tells me he will settle him to his satisfaction, and mine,
too. Every time I see him-"
"Who?"
" My lawyer, of course-he tells me things are going swimmingly; and as he has been saying the same thing for nearly a
year, the matter must be rapidly drawing to a head, and old
guardy will have to disgorge. Hey! won't that be fine 2"
"Capital!" returned Samuel.
"And then," said Charley Gibbs, his sanguine eye lighting up
with his prospective happiness, "'hurrah for a cozy cottage with
my Fan, and a silent interest in some big house, like that which
Mr. Crittenden has in this. Won't I have jolly times, then.
Oh, no —not at all!"




86       WHICH-: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"You mentioned a Mr. Crittenden," said Samuel.  "Who is
he?"
"He is the silent partner in our house."
"In this-in Mr. Townsend's?"
"Yes. Didn't you know it?"
"No. What sort of a man is he?" asked Samuel.
"What do you mean-in his business abilities, or in his
appearance?"
"In his appearance."
"Tall, well made, Roman head, dark hair, black eyes, consumptive complexion, very intellectual, sarcastic lips, small,
pearly: teeth, and keen as a hawk; dresses in black, very gentlemanly in his manner, aged about forty, and is a bachelor; knows
business and human nature like a book, and can whittle common
men down into little less than nothing any time within two seconds and a half. Hates everything in the shape of drudgery or
confinement, and spends, therefore, the most of his time in travelling, which suits him to a T, as it enables him to combine business with pleasure. Rarely home oftener than four times a
year, and then seldom more than a week at a time. Was here
yesterday-didn't you see him?"
" No; at what hour?"
" Two."
"Just when I was out! How long did he stay?"
"An hour or so."
"Then he left without my seeing him!"
"And no wonder. It is his way. He glides in and out without making noise enouglh to disturb a cat —a habit of his. But,
now I remember, you were engaged with a customer at the time
he was leaving, or vou would probably have seen him."
" What is his first name M"
" Robert."




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                87
Samuel opened his pocket-book, and taking out a card, handed
it to his companion.
"Why, where did you get this 2" asked the latter, in surprise.
"From himself, I judge,"- returned Samuel. "While on my
way to New York, I met, in the cars, a gentleman answering to
his description.   Ihe left the train at Utica, and just before
taking his departure, he gave me his card."
"It wass Mr. Crittenden, indeed," remarked Charley Gibbs
"for this is his signature, and he always has his sign-manual
printed on his cards. But here comes one of my customers, and
I must attend to him. Excuse me!"
Charley Gibbs hurried off; and Samuel returned the card to
his pocket-book, with a sigh.
"What will Mr. Crittenden think of me," he murmured,
" when he hears of my conduct in this affair-particularly when
he remembers our conversation in the cars?  Lord help me! for
once I have forgotten the Right, for once strayed away to the
Left. Lord help, pity and forgive me!"
Charley Gibbs was right. Before the world will allow a man
to be meek and gentle, it first exacts an unmistakable evidence
that he can be a brute upon occasion. When it is satisfied upon
that point, it will let him be as meek as he pleases, and, if called
upon, it will gladly testify to the sincerity of his humility, and
favor him with all the encouragement he may desire.
Samuel's inoffensive gentleness before his quarrel was as nothing. Its only effect was to call forth persecution and ridicule;
but his inoffensive gentleness after the quarrelwas altogether
another affair. That stamped it with legitimacy, gave it a moral
force which no one felt an inclination to dispute, and furnished
Samuel himself with a carte blanche to be as gentle, pious, and
simple as he liked, without let or hindrance.
From the moment of his victory, the clerks abandoned their
annoyances against him at once and forever. From being their




88       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
butt, he was thenceforth their favorite; and all were glad to own
him for their friend.
So much for a " becoming spirit" on occasion. But it was an
unfortunate hour for that self-important individual, First De
Laine. With his defeat departed all of his little greatness. In
proportion as Samuel's popularity went up, that of the fast youth
went down. In his own chaste phraseology, from being " some,"
he was "no whar;" and ere two months passed away, he found it
convenient-to use his own choice language again-to " propel"
to another city, where his talents would enable him to " blaze"
again in all his ancient splendor.
Samuel beheld him depart more in sorrow than in anger.
"Would he but make up and stay," he thought, "how much
better it would be for himself, for me, and for us all!"
But no; the fast gentleman was "none of that sort. He
would neither forgive nor forget." With this sentiment on his lips,
he turned his footsteps towards Boston, where his business talents
being of a positive order, he was not long in finding a respectable
situation, at a respectable salary. His ambition to be considered
a " blood" was in due time fully gratified. He shone, for a season,
to his heart's content. His face was a familiar one at sporting
clubs, theatres, gambling-houses, brothels, and bar-rooms. Ile
dressed flashier than ever, and "sported" a fast horse, a flashy
breastpin, a knowing hat, a dashing imperial, which was carefully
dyed every morning, an extensive variety of rings, and a very
long, very heavy, and very showy watch-chain. His "liberal"
habits, his jaunty air, and his reputation as a "perfect blood,"
made him as popular with the sporting gentry of that city as
he could wish, and he was rising rapidly in the estimation of
blacklegs, rum-sellers, fighting-men, brothel-keepers, and fancy
characters generally, when he was thrown from his sulky, while
racing with another "perfect blood" out on the road. When
taken up by the passers-by, it was discovered that his neck was




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               89
broken, and that the fast spirit which, but a few seconds before,
had tenanted his body, was gone to its account.
Samuel was by no means pleased with his own share} in the
quarrel. It cost him many a burning tear, many a bitter pang.
Men's opinions in the matter had but little influence upon him.
He weighed the whole transaction over, from beginning to end,
with a calm, conscientious eye, and found everything but comfort in the result. "When ye are reviled, revile not again,"
loomed up, as in burning letters, continually before his mental
vision, and he knew that he had broken a part, at least, of the
command. He knelt down in his chamber, and poured out the
burden of his contrite heart, but when he arose it was not with
his usually joyous smile: for his prayer had not been answered.
Again and again —in the fresh hours of the early morning, and
in the silent watches of the night-he petitioned, like a little
child, for mercy; and in the end, after a week of mental suffering, the smile of joy returned to his lip and to his eye-for he
had received an assurance of forgiveness from his Heavenly
Father. His prayer had been answered!
Thenceforth, Samuel's prospects brightened. He passed from
the ginghams to the de laines, from these to the cottons, and
from these to the prints, with fair rapidity, gaining a thorough
business knowledge of each, and gleaning much valuable general
information, as well, on the way; giving back, in return, to the
clerks in these departments some few well-timed suggestions on
a topic which was of far more importance, but which is rarely
brought up in dry goods, or other houses, unless for ridicule, or
for-a paying impression. Thus he glided, like a spirit of light,
from department to department, dropping better thoughts in each
than prevailed before his coming, and leaving an influence for
good all along his path.
Now, with him all things wore a smiling aspect. His letters co
Enfield breathed a happy, tranquil spirit, while those he received




90        WHiICH: TiEm RIGHT, OR THE  LEFT.
in return -filled him.with gratitude and joy; for they told him
that his friends were all well, that they still loved him, that their
interest in his welfare was unabated, and that their confidence in
his loyalty to his moral trust was unshaken; that his father, and
mother, and Aunt Betsy, and little Joe-who still played his
old solitary tune, and always in a lively strain-were all happy
as ever; that his old scholars, one and all, sent him their regards,
and hoped they had still a share inl his thoughts; that their
new teacher was equally successful in guiding their little minds
aright, and in winning their confidence, their friendship, and their
love.
For all these Samuel was grateful; for these he poured out
his gushing heart to the Ever Kind.
"THOU hast stood by me!" he murmured.  "Thou hast been
with me all the way. To Thee be all the-praise!"
He was happy; and to the query of the scrutinizing monitor
within him"' Well, watchman-what of the night?"
He could lay his hard upon his heart, and answer" AlIL IS' WELL!"




CHAPTER VII.
ON a pleasant evening in October, Mrs. Townsend and her
two nieces were assembled in the drawing-room.  It was one
of theAoff-nights, as they were called in the family; which meant
that it was one of the two evenings in the week when the gentlemen-Mr. Townsend and Samuel-were rarely at home, and
when, as Mrs. Townsend herself expressed it, the ladies had the
house all alone to themselves.
Mrs. Townsenid, whose large, clear, dark, penetrating ele and
straight features pronounced her a woman of talent, contrived to
give to her four-and-fifty years the appearance of thirty-three or
five. Thus, for her superb hair, whose glorious profusion was
only equalled by its rich ebon gloss, she was indebted to a skilful wig-maker, who had taken his degrees in Paris; her brilliant
complexion to certain mysterious cosmetics, which were made
up by her own hand, from recipes which had been left her as a
precious legacy,::some thirty years before, by her mother-herself a magnificent lady of forty, even in her sixty-seventh year;
her superb eyebrows to one of the same mysterious recipes;
her fine, pearly teeth, to the genius of-an eminent Philadelphia
dentist; her fine bust to a certain French corset-maker; her
noble figure, in part to her dressmaker, and in part to her own
native tact; her mingled ease and dignity to lessons which had
been given her by her parent; her active brain, partly to nature,
partly to education, and partly to herself; her smooth air and
benignant manner, to years of careful study; and her apparently
happy, but really miserable heart, to a long apprenticeship to the
studied formalities and solemn hypocrisies of the world. She
(91,)




92       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
was an actress of rare genius on the stage of the little sphere in
which she moved. She knew how to smile and sigh in the
proper places. With the serious, she was serious; with the gay,
gay; while with the sorrowing, she could drop tears as mournful
as their own. Her masterly acting, in all situations, deceived all
but her husband. The latter was. himself too cunning a player
to be imposed upon by one of his own profession; but he could
not help every now and then, when his wife had acquitted herself a little better than common, exclaiming, when they were
alone, "Ah! Jane-you are a rare girl "' And if the "rare
girl" sometimes returned the compliment, "Ah, John! you are
a rare boy!"- it was not perhaps to be wondered at, seeing that
the precious pair understood one another so well.
Arn yet this couple were on the down-hill side of life; were
drawing nearer and closer, day by day, to the bottom; were
wholly unprepared for the dark valley which lay at the foot of
the hill; were within reach of safety, and yet put forth no effort
to preserve themselves; were still as worldly, still as calculating,
still as hollow, formal, and affected as ever;-were still adding,
day by day, to the catalogue of moral frauds and delinquencies
already scored against them. And they knew it all! They were
duly sensible, also, that their benevolence was simply a matter of
worldly calculation; that their piety was a solemn mockery;
that they had voluntarily thrown aside their great moral trusts;
and that in their own eyes, as in that of Him whom they professed to serve, they were hopeless bankrupts. WHY they con
tinued in this perilous course, they never cared to inquire. Mean
while they went on with their several parts, satisfied if they performed them to the world's satisfaction, and their own.
Isabella Langdon was the daughter of Mr. Townsend's widowed
sister, who died when Isabella was in her fourteenth year, leaving
her some seventy or eighty thousand dollars in real estate, which
was quite sufficient to secure her a "brilliant position in society,"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                93
and to " render her independent for life "-the only points which
the fair widow, either when living or dying, regarded as of any
serious importance. A brilliant position for so small a thing as
the soul, and an independence for eternity, never entered into
that lady's head at all. Her dying injunction was in keeping with
her life: "Money and position, my dear-never forget them.
I never forgot them, and I hope you will not. Without them,
one is a nobody. Adieu, dear.  In a few moments I shall be in
heaven!"
And with these words, her spirit entered upon its solemn
journey.
Isabella herself was what a stranger would term a glorious
creature. She had a fine, graceful, showy head; small, aristccratic features, a dazzling complexion, a commanding figure,
small, delicate hands, and a princess-like air, which was partly
natural, and partly the result of study. She had been educated according to the approved principles of her aunt, and was
therefore at twenty-three as formal as her naturally cold, selfish,
and frivolous nature would permit. Still her native self-possession, coupled with her rare dissimulating talent, enabled her to
assume a genial frankness and warm-heartedness which, with
those who only saw her abroad, might easily pass for genuine.
At home, where she was less guarded, she was, of course, better
understood; but not by all, even there.. As she presented
a brilliant show in a drawing-room, her society was courted by
the ball, party, and converzatione givers of her "set," while her
fortune rendered her an " object " to hosts of managing mothers
and young gentlemen, whose " kind attentions" were as well understood by the young lady herself as by those who so freely
tendered them!
As religion was the mode, Isabella was of.-ourse a member of
the Church; and, when abroad, she lived up to its formalities
with a carefiulness Which led to the general supposition that she




94       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
was as "good" as she was beautiful. Her " goodness," however,
did not deceive the experienced eye.of her pastor, who sighed
over the hollowness of her piety, although, for reasons best
known to himself, he did not deem it advisable to make it a
matter of comment.
To Isabella, religion was simply one of the conventionalisms
of society-nothing more. She regarded it as she did music,
dress, education-a sort of matter-of-course, which every person
of consequence should  know  all about, support, and  become identified with, because it was expected, and because it was
the fashion. Beyond this, religion was to her a dead blank. Of
its superior richness, of its tender sweetness, of its solemn joys,
of its enduring delights, of the stirring happiness which it pours
into the soul, of the genuine pleasure which reigns perpetually in
the hearts of the believing, and of the bright future which they
realize in part even on earth, she knew nothing, cared nothing.
It is true she heard of themn, every Sabbath; but they fell on her
ear like so many pretty sentiments, which were all very well to
hear of, and to talk about, but as of no more absolute importance
than pretty sentiments of any other character. A sermon was
to her as a lecture, a play, or a concert-something that worked
up the feelings a little, and extorted a certain degree of admiration. Thus, after listening to an able discourse, she would observe-" What an admirable preacher Mr. Engold is! It really
does one good to hear him! His figures are so beautiful, and
his eloquence so overpowering!" And this was all of our fair
friend's view of religion! What an " admirable preacher" Mr.
Engold was, indeed!
Miriam Selden was Mrs. Townsend's only brother's only child.
Although orphaned at an early age, she had never forgotten the
religious lessons which had been taught her by her mother. Her
fortune was, only about a third as large as that of her cousin, but
her income more than satisfied the wants of her gentle, retiring




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                95
nature.  In person, Miriam was small; in appearance, spirituelle.
H-er small Grecian features were boldly yet modestly defined,
and fully expressed the mild earnestness and beauty of her character. Ier movements were light, easy, and graceful-the
rustling of her garments. conveying the only sound of her coming
or departure.  Her voice, which was low and musical, was
rarely heard. She had a thoughtful air, and a pair of dark,
thoughtful eyes, whose clear depths were not purer than her own
sinless spirit.
On the evening in question, the cousins were reading at the
centre-table: Isabella running through the still damp pages of a
new novel-Miriam  perusing. the memoirs of a missionary.
Mrs. Townsend, from her seat on a lounge, was quietly observing them both.
Isabella at length put aside her book, observing, at the same
time" Really, aunt, reading is a great bore!"
"I presume that depends very much upon what you are reading, my dear!" answered Mrs. Townsend.  " How do you find
your book, Mirry?"
" Very entertaining, dear aunt!" said Miriam, who understood
the query in the light in which it was intended, and laid down
the volume accordingly; "but not so overpowering that Pcannot
relinquish it for a while."
"Thank you, my dear! And now, girls, if you have nothing,o urge against it, let us have a little cozy chat!"
"Excellent!" cried Isabella.  "Chat is one of our sex's privileges; and as I am a firm believer in woman's rights, I vote for
it with'both hands 1"
"And you, Mirry?"
"I presume I must not be found in the minority, aunt!"
"Very good. Then the proposition is carried without a dissenting voice."




96       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
Mrs. Townsend seated herself at the centre-table in such a
position that she could command a full view of the features of
her companions.
"Talking of woman's rights,'Bel," she said, "I have some
news for you. Mr. Jones, the grocer, failed on Monday, and
ran away yesterday, leaving his wife without a dollar!"
"Shocking!" exclaimed Isabella.  "Why, it was her money
that set him up in business 1"
"Exactly! And this is the result of her folly in letting him
have the control of her property, which she should have settled
upon herself! I hope, my dears," she added, "you will remember
the lesson when you conclude to enter upon matrimony."
But, aunt," said Miriam, whose gentle nature led her to look
hopefully upon everything, "perhaps the poor gentleman could
not help failing, and has' only fled, for a time, to avoid the first
outbursts of his creditors!"
"I think not, Mirry. His failure, Mr. Townsend tells me, is
a very bad one. It bears, in fact, the evidence of premeditation."
Miriam cast her eyes down, sorrowfully, for she remembered
that the fraudulent bankrupt was a member of her own church,
and that she had always looked upon him as a faithful follower of
the Prince of Righteousness.
"HoW much did he fail for?" inquired Isabella.
" Two hundred and twenty thousand, Mr. Townsend tells me."
"Shocking! It's enough to give one a sensation!"
4' It did, my dear, to several; but particularly to his creditors,
three of whom  are ruined by it.  But it serves them right.
They should have known better than to risk their business
positions upon the honesty of a single man."
"Who are the principal sufferers?"
"Mr. Weston, our next-door neighbor, Mr. Judson, the sugardealer, and Mr. Lent, the tea-importer: all of whom, Mr. Towns



WHIcH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                97
end tells me; will have to'go by the board,' as it is termed,
before the week is out."
"Shocking!  Why, these gentlemen all have pews in our
church! What a time it will create, when it becomes known!"
"What will become of their families, dear aunt " inquired
Miriam, looking up, with an expression of deep sympathy.
"They will return to their original poverty, for all I can see,
my dear!" returned Mrs. Townsend, who was struck with the
miarked contrast in the sentiments of the two cousins.
"That, however, will be no very great hardship," remarked
Isabella. "It will only be going back to an old acquaintance."
" I fear," said the gentle Miriam, "they will find it very painful. Had they never known affluence, poverty could be met
without a shudder; but to leave it once and then be driven back
to it, through no fault of their own, must be very hard, as well
as humiliating!"
"'m  sure, cousin," said Isabella, with a slight air of virtuous
indignation, "there is nothing humiliating in honest poverty!"
i To the already poor, no; but they who have known wealth
cannot help looking at it in that light."
" I am sure I should not look upon it so!" returned her cousin.
" I hope you may never be tried, dear cousin. Poverty is a
sore tempter!" replied Miriam, generously. " But can we not do
something for these worthy people, aunt?"
"That has already been thought of, Mirry. It is perhaps a
delicate matter to mention, but Mr. Townsend and myself have
inclosed a few hundreds to each of them  to help them in their
strait."
An expression of mingled joy and relief swept over Miriam's
sweet countenance at this reply.
" Dear aunt!" she exclaimed, taking her hand and pressing it
in her own with all the warmth of her generous nature, " that is




98      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
so like you and dear guardy! Ah! you know not how happy
you have made me!"
If poor-Miriam had but known that the' few hundreds" were
given -for the sole purpose of reaching the public ear, and thereby
adding tot the giver's business popularity, she might not have
been so lavish of her thanks. But the simple-hearted girl, in
common with all the world, never dreamed of the crafty spirit
of her guardian.
"Prav, don't mention it, Mirry!" returned Mrs. Townsenfd.
"There is as much pleasure in giving as in receiving; and I am
sure we ought to take all the pleasure we can. Let me see: it
is Shakspeare, is it not,'Bel, who says:
"The quality of mercy is not strained.
It is twice blessed: it blesseth him that gives,
And him by whom it is received,"
or something to that effect!"
"But what has that quotation to do with it, aunt?" inquired
her eldest niece. "The one alludes to benevolence, and the
other to mercy. They are not identical, I believe?"
"Not always, my dear, I grant. But in the present instance,
they are somewhat allied.  For with our few hundreds, Mr.
Townsend dispatched, at the same time, some notes of Mr.
Jones's, which had come into his hands in the course of business, and which bore the endorsements of some of the ruined
creditors i"
"Oh, aunt!" said Miriam, "that was generous in guardyit was noble!"
"What think you,'Bel?"
"I agree with Mirry," was the reply. "It was both noble
and generous!"
"You confess, then, the appositeness of the quotation V"
"How can I do otherwise? The act is enough to give one
a sensation. It is really delightful!"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                99
"When I think," said her aunt, "how Mr. Townsend might
have pressed the payment of those notes, and thereby secured
himself from loss-which, of course, he had a perfect right to
do-and when I think that he has sacrificed his private interest
to that of humanity, I confess it makes me love him, if that were
possible, ten times deeper than ever!"
"I am sure he will be rewarded for it 1" cried Miriam, with
pious enthusiasm. "If not here, certainly hereafter!"
" Too much benevolence, aunt," said her more worldly cousin,
"is as hurtful as too much selfishness, and it oftener leads to
misery. As for me, I have no faith in it. His liberality will be
the ruin of guardy some day!"
" Fear it not," returned her aunt: "1 Mr. Townsend knows how
to temper benevolence with judgment!"
The exceeding truthfulness of this observation was known
only to the speaker herself. Notwithstanding its utterance,
however, her auditors still adhered to the idea which Isabella
had so naively expressed.
"Aunt," said Miriam, "you have not yet given us the particulars of Mr. Jones's failure."
"I have purposely refrained from doing so, because the details
are too revolting for young minds. It is enough that they display unmistakable evidences of a long-designed and successfully
sustained fraud, not only against his creditors, but against his
wife, whom he has left in a position which makes my heart bleed
to think of."
" Dear aunt," cried Isabella, "do give us the particulars. You
cannot fancy how I am pining for a sensation!"
Miriam was also anxious to hear the particulars, but from a
very different motive.
"I can do that in a few words," said Mrs. Townsend, calmly
enjoying her mental perusal of the two natures before her. "It
appears that Mr. Jones had determined to make the most of his




100      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
wicked scheme, and with this view he converted all his business
availables into money. Not content with this, he, under a
plea of necessity, persuaded his wife, some few weeks before his
failure, to sell their house, and also to give a mortgage upon
their furniture. The notes obtained for the house, he turned
into cash; the mortgage went the same way; and now, besides
the desertion of her husband, the unfortunate woman has to
bewail the loss of her very house and furniture. She is literally
stripped of everything, and is without a shilling in the world!"
"Mercy on me!" cried Isabella.  " What a thrilling subject
for the newspapers! I-low the world will stare when it hears
the harrowing details! Ugh! it has given me such a sensation!
I shall not get over it for a month!"
"Does the unhappy lady still live in Bleecker street, aunt?"
asked Miriam.
"No, nay dear," answered Mrs. Townsend, whose perfect
knowledge of the questioner's tender nature enabled her to
comprehend the motive of the inquiry, " she disappeared this
morning with her child."
An expression of mingled sadness and disappointment passed
over Miriam's features, and she dropped her eyes, with a low
sigh.
"' Of course, the woman will not think of showing herself at
our church again!" remarked, Isabella.
"Why not, cousin V' timidly inquired Miriam.  "Mr. Jones
has a pew there!"
"What an absurd question!" returned Isabella, gazing at her
in astonishment.  "Aunt, did you ever hear of anything so
stupid."
"I presume Mrs. Jones will avoid the ridicule which would
naturally follow such a step!" replied Mrs. Townsend.
"There. Mirry!" cried Isabella, glancing at her cousin with an
air of triumph.




WHICH: THE  RIGHT, OR THE  LEFT.               101
"I do not see why it should," replied Miriam, with modest
earnestness. " Her claim to a seat in her own pew is perfectly
legal; and surely her husband's error ought not to be laid upon
her shoulders. Besides, in God's house —"
"What nonsense, coz! You know very well, that whether it
be God's house or not, our church, and every other church that is
built by rich people's money, is not a place for poor people.
For whom  do we build them, but ourselves?  Let mechanics
and laborers, and people of their rank, associate with their own,lass. - We don't want them in our way. I never heard of anyh ing so shabby in all my life. It's enough to give one a sensation!"
Miriam made no reply.
" I think," observed Mrs. Townsend' in her conlm, impressive
way, " there is no danger of Mrs. Jones's incurring the risk of general remark by showing herself at our church in future. Her own
good sense will tell her that!" Then turning to her youngest
niece, who was evidently suffering with some painful thought,
she added, "' You know, Mirry, that the mingling of rich and poor
in God's house is a very pretty sentiment to read of, to talk of,
and all that; but as society is at present constituted, it would
not do to practise: at all events, it is not practised, and that, as
you will of course admit, is equally to the point."
"Fancy, for instance," said Isabella, in a tone of triumphant
mockery, "'a greasy mechanic, and his vulgar calicoed wife,
stalking, in all the consequence of their Sunday-go-to-meetings,
along the carpeted isles of dur church, seating themselves upon
our velveted cushions, and looking coolly around at our satins,
jewels, and irreproachable broadcloths! What a sensation it
would make! I db  not believe our dear minister himself could
realize that he was in his own church. I'm sure I shouldn't!"
"I have too good an opinion of our minister to believe any
such thought would enter his mind!" returned Miriam, gently.




102      WHICH:  THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"It does not follow because he is the pastor of an aristocratic
congregation, that he shares in the aristocratic sentiments of his
people!"
"What sublime simplicity!  Why, coz, it is positively amusing to hear you!"
Miriam neither quailed nor blushed at this impudent outburst.
Still, her features showed how deeply she was pained at the
remark.
"'Bel!" said Mrs. Townsend, "you are too harsh, and Mirry
too gentle. You must both permit me to explain the consistency
of our'exclusiveness.' Aristocracy reigns in everything; that
is to say, everything is graduated, in the natural as in the artificial
world. This aristocracy is governed wholly by the universal law
of Inferiority and Superiority; which means that the superior is
better than the inferior-all of which is true, whatever may be
said to the contrary. For instance, Honesty is an aristocrat,
because it is the superior of Dishonesty; and however charitable
and kindly may be his sentiments, Honesty would revolt at
placing himself on an equal footing, morally or socially, with
Dishonesty. Hence, from  every point of view, Honesty is a
better man than Dishonesty. The artist who paints a perfect
picture is the superior of him who paints an imperfect one, and
he would shrink instinctively from associating or placing himself
on a level with one so far inferior to himself; and very justly,
too, because positive merit is the natural superior of negative or
questionable merit. A gentleman is, for the same reason, the
superior of the commoner, because his position in the world is
higher; and he could not consent to place himself on a level
with that commoner, because society has lifted him above him.
To associate with the commoner, would be E's revolting to his
tastes and habits, as to his feelings. There is nothing in common between them; and consequently, to put them upon a level,
would be to perpetrate an oitrage upon the broad law which




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               103
governs nature and society. Gold is better than copper,.than
iron, than -brass. Refinement is better than coarseness; Intellect
better than Ignorance; Strength better than Weakness; Modesty
better than Brazenness; Elegance better than Roughness; Wealth
better than Poverty. This law is universal; and since it governs
the world, it is idle to pronounce it unjust."
This was delivered with so oracular an air, and it was so subtly
interlardod with speciousness and truth, that it was no wonder
that poor gentle Miriam bowed her head in utter bewilderment.
"And for that reason," continued her aunt, "it would be
utterly impossible for our pastor, who is himself a gentleman, a
scholar, and an' exclusive,' to entertain any sympathy for parties
whom nature and society have united in placing below him. Of
course, we do not parade these views before the world; they
would have a, tendency to render us unpopular. But they are
perfectly understood by all intelligent minds."
" There, coz!" cried Isabella, triumphantly. "What have you
got to say for the greasy wretches now!"
"This,'Bel!" returned Miriam, with an expression of winning
sweetness-" that the point at issue, so far as I can see, is untouched."
"My dear coz, you are entitled to the laurels of a Columbus!
The ground has been wholly gone over-penetrated to its very
depths-and yet it is reserved for your brilliant ladyship to discover that it has not been touched at all! Really, it is as good
as a play!"
"We must not be too severe on our dear Mirry,'Bel!" observed her aunt. "The saying,'strike, but hear me,' is a noble
one. We must give Mirry an opportunity to explain!"
"Certainly, aunt. We should be generous.  It is our duty
to be so. There is a text for' it:'He that giveth to the poor
lendeth to the Lord!"'




104      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR T1HE LEFT.
Miriam looked at her cousin with mournful surprise. Then
changing the expression into one of entreaty,; she said"Please,'Bel! don't speak of sacred things in that way. It
pains me. Please don't!"
"Well, then, coz! do talk reason. It is perfectly shocking to
hear how you go on with your simple nonsense. So long as we
are in the world, we should think as the world thinks, and do as
the world does. Else what is the use of living in it at all, I'd
like to know!"
" You were saying, Mirry, that the point is left untouched,"
said Mrs. Townsend. " Why 2l"
"I fear you will think me over. bold, dear aunt, when you
hear my reasons," replied Miriam, timidly; "and yet," she
added, with an air of modest confusion, " it would make mne unhappy to give-up my confidence in their truth!"
"Go on, coz. Do let us hear what you have to advance'
Who knows but you may yet favor us with a sensation?" observed Isabella, with a slight sneer.
" Go on, Mirry," said Mrs. Townsend, with protecting kindness.
"You may be sure we shall receive your views with all the respect to which they may be entitled."
"I was simply thinking," said Miriam, with a smile which
mirrored the sweetness of her nature, "' that society cannot control the Church; for that exists wherever a single heart bends in
pious reverence to God. At least, I have ever found great comfort in the thought, and I would not willingly relinquish it."
"And is that all, Mirry l"
"Yes, aunt. I cannot think of any more; although I feel that
I ought to say a great deal more for Him who gave IHis life for
me: but," she added, with an artlessness which well-nigh provoked her auditors into a broad, vulgar laugh, " I am not capable
of saying much. If our friend Samuel were here, I think he




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                105
could explain my meaning better. He is braver than I am,
and-"
"I presume, coz," said Isabella, interrupting her with a sneer,
"'that you would be very glad indeed to have Samuel explain
your meaning. I have no doubt he understands it!"
Miriam glanced at her reproachfully for an instant; then, as
a deep hot blush shot up to her temples, she covered her face
with her handkerchief, and murmuring, "Cousin-this is cruel!"
she burst into tears.
"'Bel!" said Mrs. Townsend, in a reproving tone.
" Oh! let her put on her airs, aunt! Who cares?  I'm sure,"
she added, in a tone which Mrs. Townsend's practised ear recognized as one of burning jealousy, "any one can see how she
throws herself in his way, and tries to make Saml-Mr. Leland,
I mean-understand her!"
"Oh, cousin-cousin!" cried Miriam, her blushes burning her
like fire. "i-I  "
" Out with it, do!" cried Isabella, tauntingly.
"'Bel!" said Mrs. Townsend, impressively, " no more of this.
It is unfair. These are matters that should never be alluded to."
"That depends upon circumstances, aunt. Cousin knows very
well that Mr. Leland and I-"
She paused, suddenly-blushed-and then added" If Mr. Leland sees fit to favor me with his attentions, I am
not aware that any one has a right to call him to an account for
it but myself."
"Who presumes to call him to an account for it,'Bel "' inquired her aunt.
"Mirry!"
"I, cousin l" cried Miriam, looking up in astonishment.
"You!" returned Isabella, with energy.  "By your interfer,
ence, if in nothing else!"
"'Cousin-"




106       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Oh, put on your airs, and call up your blushes-do i"
"'Bel!" said Mrs. Townsend, "this will not do, my dear. You
forget yourself!"
"Aunt! permit me to understand my own affairs best!"
"Certainly, my dear!" returned Mrs. Townsend, with her
usual suavity. "I have no desire to interfere with them. But"
she added, partly for the purpose of rescuing Miriam from the
imperial beauty's rage, and partly for the purpose of drawing her
impetuous niece into a more lucid explanation of a matter which
had hitherto escaped her own penetrating eye, "I had no idea
that you and Mr. Leland had had any understanding of this
nature. It is perfectly new to fne."
And the lady uttered what was unqualifiedly true.
"Who spoke of any understanding, aunt?" returned Isabella,
detecting her motive. "I simply referred to Mr. Leland's attentions. No harm in that, I presume 2"
"No harm, certainly. A mere misapprehension on my part;
that is all."
"Am I to blame for -that?" demanded Isabella, who was now
rapidly recovering her self-possession.
" By no means,'Bel.  But it led me into an error, notwithstanding; especially," she continued, with a meaning smile, " when
I had, all along, been under the impression that your sentiments
were running in a very different quarter!"
"I do not understand you, aunt!" said Isabella, with a blush
which was a flat contradiction of her words.
"Mr. Brigham —" suggested Mrs.- Townsend, quietly.
"Mr. Brigham!" returned her niece, with a haughty curl of
her proud lip. "Mr. Brigham, indeed!"
"I had supposed, my dear, that he was an accepted admirer,"
said her aunt.
"Mr. Brigham has, I doubt not, a strong admiration for myfortune!" said Isabella; " but I am not aware that his chances of




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFr.               107
obtaining it are any better now than they were before he honored
its owner with his acquaintance!"
"'Bel, you amaze me! Surely, you will not deny that Mr.
Brigham entertains directly opposite views?"
Mr. Brigham is privileged to entertain whatever views he
pleases, but he will find it difficult to impose them upon me!"
" Hark!" said her aunt, raising her finger, warningly. "Some
one comes!"
" Mr. Brigham!" said a servant.
A moment later, and that worthy made his appearance.
Mr. Brigham was a gentleman of some three or five-and-thirty
years. He was tall, slender, and well-built. His hair, of a jet
black, contrasted strongly with his naturally pale complexion,
and gave it a somewhat consumptive tinge. His forehead was
flat, and of moderate height; the brows protruded heavily over
a pair of large, dark eyes, which were generally half closed, with
a keen but thoughtful air. His nose was hooked; the nostrils
lapped, like those of a wild beast when in repose. His lips were
small and thin, and might have been pronounced handsome, but
for a crafty expression which lurked, like a shadow, around their
corners. His retreating chin was covered by a short, black
beard, which always looked as if it had just been shortened by
a barber's' shears. He wore a buff vest, with yellow buttons,
and a coat and pantaloons of fine blue cloth. His small hands
were covered with buff kids; his feet with boots of patent
leather. His movements were easy and smooth, without being
graceful.- His general air was that of one who understood himself and others also.
"Good-evening, ladies!" he said, with a bow which was not
devoid of refinement.  "I am fortunate in finding you at honme."
The ladies returned his salute, and Mrs. Townsend, with her
usual urbanity, motioned him to a chair.
"You are very good!" he said, seating himself. " Mr. Towns.




108       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
end is off to prayer-meeting, I suppose?"  Mrs. Townsend replied in the affirmative, and Mr. Brigham  added: "So I imagined. He neglects nothing; and yet he has cares and duties
enough, of one kind and another, to kill a dozen ordinary men.
It has always been a mystery to me how he gets through them
all; and yet they appear to make no impression upon him. He
is a wonderful man!"
This dose of flattery was meant for the domestic partner of
the "' wonderful man." That lady smiled, and answered"1Mr. Townsend has all excellent constitution, I believe."
"And an excellent heart, as well," added Mr. Brigham, with
a smile which answered its design, viz.: to show two rows of
teeth, which, if not as small as a woman's, were at least as white
and glistening.
"That is a charge which I fear will never be laid at Mr. Brigham's door!" observed Isabella.
"Ah! you are very good!" returned that gentleman, with the
tranquil air of one who was accustomed to jokes of that nature,
and he added, with another display of his fine teeth, " When a
poor fellow's heart is rudely torn from him by an enchantress,
he cannot expect to be flattered for the vacuum i"
" Mr. Leland!" said a servant.
And Samuel entered the drawing-room.
There was no mistaking the warmth with which our hero was
received by Mrs. Townsend and Isabella. There was a heartiness in it which contrasted strongly with that which greeted the
entrance of the confidential clerk. The latter quietly bit his lip
as he remarked it; but he was too shrewd to permit its effect
upon him to appear.
Miriam was somewhat reserved; a fact which the confidential
clerk noticed also, and with surprise; for he had long imagined
that the timid Miriam had a secret predilection for Mr. Leland.' Something has happened!" he thought. "They have had a




WHICHm: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             109
rupture, perhaps. But what does Isabella mean  by her conduct
towards the religious simpleton? I must look into this; and if
I find the fellow poaching upon my manor, let him look to himself!"'Ah! Mr. Brigham!" said Samuel, saluting him, "I am
happy to see you!"
"You are very good!" returned the confidential clerk, with a
gracious bow, and showing all his teeth at the same moment.
"From prayer-meeting?"
" No," answered Samuel, who had lost none of his simplicity;
" from a journey in quest of an unhappy lady, whom perhaps
you may know-Mrs. Jones?"
The ladies pricked up their ears.
"I have not the honor!" said Mr. Brigham, laughingly. "Some
friend of yours, I presume?"
"Yes, and a very worthy lady."
"Do you mean the grocer's wife, Samuel?" inquired Mrs.
Townsend.
"The same."
"Poor thing!" exclaimed Isabella, in a tone of assumed sympathy. "Her husband failed a few days ago."
"Unhappily-" returned Samuel.
"And fled, I think!' observed Mr. Brigham. "It appears to
me I heard something of it. Disappeared suddenly."
"Yes, sir-leaving his unhappy wife and child without means
of support. Can't we do something for her?"
Mr. Brigham was silent.
"Have you her address?" asked Mrs. Townsend.
"No.      Laurence street," returned Samuel.
Mrs. Townsend bowed, and taking out her tablets, wrote down
the address.
" What sort of a place is it?" asked Isabella.
"Up an alley, rear building, second floor. You would scarcely




110      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
believe it," added Samuel, "but her husband's failure has deprived the poor lady even of her friends!"
"Shameful!" cried Isabella, in virtuous indignation.
"'We must look into this!" observed Mrs. Townsend, who
never lost al opportunity for creating an effect.
" Has the poor woman no relatives?" inquired Mr. Brigham.
"'Several," replied Samuel; " but none of them have been to
see her."
"Why don't she drop them a note?" asked the confidential
clerk.
"She has done so; but they paid no attention to her letters.
And yet," he added, with an expression of uneasiness, " they
must have received them!"
Mr. Brigham showed his teeth, and observed"And yet they will all shine, in their silks and satins, next
Sabbath, and be highly edified at their pastor's discourse!"
"For shame, Mr. Brigham!" said Isabella, with an air of
playful reproach.
"Nay, the shame will be with them, Miss Landon!" said Mr.
Brigham. "And, now I think of it," he added, with his noiseless
smile, "I'll make a memorandum with anybody here, that they
will be the most devout of all the congregation!"
"Let us not judge them  too harshly," observed Samuel,
gently. " Human nature is not so bad, after all!"
The teeth of the confidential clerk fairly danced with laughter
at this remark, although no sound came from their owner's lips.
"I called on two of them, on my way home," continued
Samuel, "and left a note for each, with a brief statement of the
lady's distress, and where she might be found. So, there is hope
yet!"
"What makes you think so, Samuel I" inquired Mrs. Townsend.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              111
"Because they cannot now plead ignorance of the poor lady's
situation or whereabouts."
"Let us hope for the best!" said Mrs. Townsend, benignantly.
"In the meanwhile, Mrs. Jones must not be left to chance."
"From my heart I thank you!" said Samuel, taking her hand
and pressing it warmly. "Ah! you do not know how happy
you have made me!"
A peculiar smile passed over Mrs. Townsend's face, and her
eyes dropped with a thoughtful air.
The confidential clerk was a quiet observer of this little incident, and his teeth glistened.' I see —I see!!' he said mentally. "This religious simpleton
is sweeping all before him!"
"Samuel!" said Isabella.
" Well, Miss Landon!" said Samuel, approaching her.
"Ah ha!" mused the confidential clerk. "There is fun
ahead. Isabella is growing jealous of her very aunt. A certain
individual of my acquaintance is in peril. Who knows but he
may yet find it necessary to take this rural youth in hand!"
" Can you keep a secret, Samuel " asked Isabella, looking
him laughingly in the eye.
"I think so. Try me!"
"Then read this," she said, putting a card into his hand, "and
let me-see a specimen of your abilities in that way!"
"I'm  very much afraid I shall have to take this youth in
hand!" thought Mr. Brigham.
"And yet I dare not say a word to himn!" murmured Miriam. "What-what will he think of me! and cousin, too —forcing herself upon him before our very eyes!"
An expression of unutterable anguish was visible in her simple features.
" Miriam is in torture!" muttered the confidential clerk,




112      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
quietly observing her. "Well, it is a pleasure to find that one
is not alone in his misery;!"
Samuel read as follows:
"It is early enough yet to pay poor dear Mrs. Jones a visit.
Help, to-night, may be of service to her. Assistance is doubly
valuable when it is timely. Will you go with me?  If so, put
this in your pocket, and I will get ready at once. My heart is
always easier, and my dreams pleasanter, after a good action!"
Samuel was silent for a moment or two.
Isabella looked at him as if she would read his very soul.
The confidential clerk observed them both-his eyes half
closed, and his teeth smiling and glistening like the glittering
light produced by the squirming of a serpent.
Miriam was regarding the carpet with a mournful air.
Mrs. Townsend, from her seat at the further end of the sofa,
surveyed, with her keen orbs, every movement and expression
of each actor in the group before her. Her cheek'was paler
than usual, and an occasional spasmodic movement of her lips
betrayed the- agitation of her heart, or mind-it would have
been difficult to say which.
"And not a word from Miriam!" thought Samuel. "I always
thought her kind, and good, and generous; and yet in this solemn hour, when suffering sends up its cry for help, her voice
alone is silent! I fancied she would have been the first to extend the hand of charity.   How I have misapprehended her!
And Miss Landon, too, whom I had thought the last to hearken to
distress! How I have misjudged her/!"
Then turning to Isabella, he said"Do you really wish this to be kept secret, Miss Landon?"
"Really and truly!" answered that young lady, lifting her
finger with an archness which was truly fascinating.
The teeth of the confidential clerk fairly writhed.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               113
"Hang her!" he muttered. "How I could tear her now!"
"So be it, then!" returned Samuel. "You have a noble
heart!"
"No conspiracy against the peace and welfare of the country,
I hope?" laughed Mr. Brigham, showing his teeth.
"Oh, yes-a very dreadful one!" answered Isabella. "And
that it may be successful, no time shall be lost in putting it into
execution!" she added, sweeping past him.
" Is our princess about to deprive her poor subjects of the
light of her countenance?" inquired the man of teeth.
" For a time!" returned the proud beauty, with flattering condescension.  " I shall be ready in a few moments, Samuel," she
added, gliding from  the drawing-room.  "The jealous fool can
scarcely restrain himself! This will give him food for pleasant
dreams!" she-muttered to herself, as she ascended to her chamber.
"I shall wait for you!" said Samuel. Then turning his eyes
upon Miriam, who was still looking thoughtfully upon the carpet, he murmured: "And she is silent!"
"You will wait for me one of these days 1" mused the confidential clerk.
"How did you learn of Mrs. Jones's trouble, Samuel?" asked
Mrs. Townsend, as that gentleman seated himself on the sofa.
"Through Charley Gibbs," returned Samuel, "who got it
from a lady friend of his, who lives next door to the poor lady's
late residence.
"Fanny Adriance, I suppose?"
" Yes," answered our hero.  "And a dear good soul she is!"
"You must not let Charley Gibbs hear you say that!" laughed
Mr. Brigham.
"I have told him so frequently; and he fully agrees with me!"
returned Samuel, with his usual simplicity.




114       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
The teeth of the confidential clerk glittered with silent irony.
"They are engaged,KI believe'" said Mrs. Townsend.
"Yes," answered Samuel: " and as they love each other dearly,
they will of course be happy!"
"Does happiness always follow love?" inquired Mrs. Townsend.
"If it be mutual and abiding —yes."
"Ah-if!" exclaimed the man of teeth, with  a sardonic
grin.
"I have had no experience —or if any, but little-in such
matters," said Samuel; "but I should think —"
"Should think i" said the teeth, as plainly as any words.
"Should think," continued Samuel, modestly, " that love, if it
exist at all between two hearts, must naturally be as enduring
as the hearts themselves. For love is generous, caring more for
its mate than for itself, and therefore spares naught that will
bring happiness to its mate. And thus the perpetual interchange of tender kindnesses and considerations keeps up the flame,
and the mutual fire burns, uninterruptedly, on!"
"Samuel, I am ready!" said Isabella, now appearing at the
door, with her hat, and shawl, and gloves on.
Miriam looked up, and the eyes of the cousins met. Triumph, pride, and gratification in those of the one-gentle
reproach and soulful suffering in those of the other.
" I am ready," said Samuel, rising. "Good-bye for a time!"
he added.
And he passed from the drawing-room.
Miriam sighed.
The confidential clerk's teeth withdrew behind their guardians,
the small, thin lips: an indication that their owner was in a
fume. His lapped nostrils rose from their repose, and shook
themselves like the wings. of a great owl preparing for a flight,




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             115
and then returned to their rest: a sign that their owner had had
what Miss Landon was wont to term a " sensation."
"There's a devil in that man that will do mischief, if it be not
caged!" mused Mrs. Townsend, who had quietly observed him.
And as it was a part of her husband's policy to keep on good terms
with his confidential clerk, for the present, at least, Mrs. Townsend concluded to soothe that individual's wounded vanity, and
soften him down to harmlessness. While she was thinking how
to commence her proposed task, Mr. Townsend himself entered
the room.
"Ah! Brigham!" he exclaimed, throwing his pleasant eyes
upon that worthy, and shaking him by the hand with as much
heartiness as if he had not seen him before for many years, "I'm
glad to see you. What's new."
"Nothing, that I know of. From prayer-meeting l"
"Yes, this moment. And a pleasant time we had of it, I
assure you. Brigham, my boy-you ought to join!"
" What —the prayersmeeting?" asked the teeth,:whichinow remade their appearance, bright, saucy, and expressive as ever.
- "No-the church. The prayer-meeting is a luxury which you
will enjoy afterwards!"
"I've always had an impression that the church rather discountenanced luxuries!"
"All wrong, Brigham, my boy —all wrong. It only sets its
face against the luxuries of the world-that is," he added, as if
correcting himself, " those which are unnecessary. But the church
has its own luxuries, compared with which those of the world
are perfectly flat and insipid."
" Such, for instance-" said the teeth, querulously.
"As our lectures, hymns, prayer-meetings, and private devotions," said the merchant, with rare unctuousness. " Get religion,
my boy, and you will experience the richness of its delights!"




116      WHICH: THJE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
And the happy merchant rubbed his sleek hands with pious
fervor.
The teeth curled into a very pretty bijou of wreathed smoke,
and their owner said" Ah! you are very good. But there are so many kinds of
the article, I should be puzzled for a choice."
"All a mistake, Brigham, my boy-all a mistake, I assure
you. There is but one religion-"
"And that is-" inquired the teeth.
"To love God, and serve him with our whole hearts!" answered the merchant, with solemn fervor.
The teeth roared, in their silent way, with jolly laughter.
"If that be the only kind," said their owner, "the genuine
article is rarer than I had supposed!"
"What makes you think so?" asked the merchant, throwing
his pleasant eyes upon the other with an air which seemed to
say —" Look! a specimen of a believer in the real thing is before
you. Isn't he a rouser? And can you entertain the shadow of a
doubt after seeing him?"
"For many reasons," answered the confidential clerk, "the
principal of which is, that I have never yet seen a man courageous
enough to act up to it!"
"My dear Brigham!" exclaimed the merchant, with tender
reproach.
"I have a pair of eyes —"
"And sharp ones, too, Brigham, as all Liberty street will testify!"
"You are very good!" answered the confidential clerk, with a
low bow. "But, as I was saying, I have a pair of eyes, and,
being a member of no particular church, I am privileged to
wander, without scandal, among them all."
"And you see the same happy unity of purpose in them all



WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                117
the same one idea: the worship of the Most High God!" said the
merchant, with pious enthusiasm.
"As you say —"
"I thought so, my dear Brigham-I thought so!" cried the
other, rubbing his fat hands in delight. " Do you hear that, Jane,
dear 2 Mr. Brigham finds everywhere —among all churches and
all sects-the same beautiful oneness of purpose, the same singleness of idea: the worship of our common God!"
" Mr. Brigham's testimony is dearly prized, my dear, if that
be his testimony. But," she added, with her usual benignity,
"I fear we are too premature in the conclusion. I shall be happy
to hear Mr. Brigham's evidence, however, be it what it may!"
"You are very good!" said that worthy, with a low bow.
"But, my dear Brigham," said the merchant, " you certainly
admitted that the same oneness of devotion was visible in all
churches?'
"Yes," returned the confidential clerk, his teeth glittering like
the folds of an anaconda, "the same oneness of devotion, tovarious gods!"
"Dear Mr. Brigham!" exclaimed Mrs. Townsend, in sorrowful
astonishment.
"My dear Brigham!" cried her husband, with an air of pious
horror, "how can you say so!"
"Very easily indeed!" returned the teeth.
"But, my dear Brigham," said the merchant, " that would imply a variety of RELIGIONS!
"Exactly," returned the confidential clerk.  "For instance,
the religion of dress, with which I find no fault, since it is the
chief support of our trade; the religion of pride, which leads
Satin to look down upon poor Calico with the most insulting
scorn; the religion of envy, which persuades Calico to regard
Satin with feelings of solemn hatred; the religion of Arrogance,
which bids its votaries to say,' Come not near me-I am holier




118      WHICH: THEE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
and better than thou!' the religion of Insolence, which inspires its
worshippers to exclaim-' Away, I am more benevolent, I
give more than thou;' the religion- of-Support, which leads the
hypocritical poor —for there are of them as of the hypocritical rich
— to affect piety for the sake of assistance from the Church; the
religion of Humbug, which makes the open, unscrupulous, and
audacious- rascal of the week, a sleek, smooth, gentle, and sanctified rascal on the Sabbath; and over all, and around all, the
religion of the Almighty Dollar! But the religion of GODwhere is it?"
And the teeth absolutely danced with wild scorn, frenzy, and
satanic rapture.
Miriam shuddered as she listened. She surveyed the satirical
speaker with instinctive dread; and when he had brought his
remarks to a close, she dropped her eyes mournfully to the
floor. A sense of uneasiness-why, she could not explaincrept over her gentle heart, and filled it with an undefinable terror. She moved her chair back, unconsciously, or rather instinctively, not a great way, to be sure, but still far enough to render
her a little easier-as if for relief. Her pure, timid nature could
not endure a nearer contact with that malignant spirit, which
seemed to gloat, with fiendish pleasure, over the weaknesses of
humanity.
Of the correctness of Mr. Brigham's remarks, Miriam  knew
not. She herself had never observed them. Nor, although a
constant attendant at God's house, was that a matter of wonder.
Poor Miriam went there to worship-not to see; to praise her
Redeemer-not to mock his people, not to ridicule the errors of
poor human nature!
"Oh, my dear Brigham!" said Mr. Townsend, shaking his
head with pious sadness. "My dear boy-how can you talk in
that way? You make me shudder. You do, indeed! I wouldn't




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             119
think that way, nor speak so, for the world —no, not for all the
world!"
The_ tqeth laughed immoderately in their peculiar way, and
said, as plainly as teeth could be expected to say: " That's all
very pretty; but you act it for a VERY SMALL fraction of what
is in it!"
The conversation was by no means to the merchant's taste,
and he concluded to change it.
"Ah! Brigham, my boy," he said, with an arch grin, "you
are a sad dog!"
"You are very good!'" returned the man of teeth, with a low
bow.
"You are a queer fellow," continued Mr. Townsend, with a
knowing look; " always cracking hard jokes. Ah!" he added,
with a dubious sigh, " that's just like you young blades. Deal.
ing in sarcasms and home thrusts alU the while, sparing nothing
and caring for nobody, so long as you get your own fun. Well,
well, there's one consolation: we think better of heavenly
things as we grow older!"
The teeth laughed uproariously at this observation, and their
owner's eyes met those of the merchant's in a sly, meaning way;
and the merchant's met his in a way equally as full of meaning
and equally as sly; and they glanced at each other for about ten
seconds, with a look which seemed to say —" We understand one
another, tip top-eh? You can't gammon me, any more than I
can gammon you-eh   Rare humbugs both —eh? Sly boys,
we are-very sly-eh?" and then both eyes turned a somerset,
as it were, and each went his own way, like two little truant
boys who were having lots of fun on a bright sunshiny day.
"But how is this, Jane?" said the merchant. "I don't see
Isabella!"
"She went out with Samuel a few minutes before you came in.'




120      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Dear me! How very like her! So full of spirits, too!
With Samuel, you say?"
"Yes. Some crink got into her head, and she invited him to
accompany her!"
"That is very singular. Why, Brigham, my boy —why didn't
you stand up for your rights? Bless your soul! my boy, this
will never do. What-let another cut you out? I'm astonished
at you!"
"Am I Miss Landon's keeper?" asked the confidential clerk,
whose teeth intimated that he felt somewhat sore somewhere.
" If you are not now, you will be one of these days, my boy,
and then, I fancy that the house of John P. Townsend will have
another new partner. Shall he be a silent or a known one —eh,
my boy.?" said the old gentleman, giving " my boy" a sly touch
of his finger in the ribs.
This was hitting the confidential clerk in the right spot. His
reserve melted at once into a pleasant smile, in which every
tooth joined with right good-will.
"That will be as you please, sir!" he said, very graciously.
"No, sir, as you please'!" returned the merchant, in his jocular way; "for you will then be the youngest and most active
member of the firm, and, of course, it will be a pleasure, on our
parts, to yield to your wishes in that, as in every other particular!"
"You are very good, sir!" said Mr. Brigham, with a very low
bow.
"The silly fool believes every word of this guy!" thought the
pious merchant. "And he has heard it, off and on, these six
years. The simpleton! It is singular how a man will assist
another in making a fool of him on his own cherished hobby!"
Mr. Brigham now rose, and commenced buttoning up his coat.
"What, Brigham, my boy!" cried Mr. Townsend, "you are
not off?"




WHICH: THaE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             121
"I have an engagement at nine, and it only lacks a few minutes
of that tile. I should be most happy to remain a while longer,
but-you know my weakness-punctuality!"
"Say, rather, your strength, my boy!  Nothing like itnothing like it. It will make you a bank president yet'"
"You are very good! Be kind enough," he added, turning to
Mrs. Townsend, "to give my respects to Miss Landon, and say
Good-Night for me to Mr. Leland."
" I shall take great pleasure in doing both, Mr. Brigham."
" You are very good! Good-night!"
And after a gentle bow to each of the occupants of the drawing-room, the confidential clerk took his departure: a smile on
his lip, and bitterness in his heart.
As he disappeared, Mr. and Mrs. Townsend exchanged glances,
which said as plainly as glances could"A crafty fish; rather shy of the hook: but we know- how to
make him bite-eh."
A few minutes later, Samuel and Isabella returned; the former
serene and happy, as usual; the latter radiant with triumph.
"Ah,'Bel!" said her guardian, playfully,: your knight is off,
you see, and the chair that once knew him knows him no more!"
" Indeed,' uncle! You amaze me!  Pray, to whom do you
refer 3"
"A pretty question! To whom but your Knight of the Rueful Countenance —the dear, delightful Mr. Brigham!"
"Mr. Brigham, indeed!  ily knight?  Dear guardy, what
put that silly notion into your head?"
"Silly,'Bel!"
"Very silly, indeed, guardy!   What is Mr. Brigham to me.e
Oh, Samuel —will you join me in a sacred melody? I do so love
sacred music!"
Samuel signified his willingness, and in another moment:Isa



122       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
bella was seated at the piano, her rich voice and Samuel's uniting
in an inspiring anthem.
Mr. Townsend glanced at his wife. Their eyes met, and they
exchanged a meaning smile.
"A rare, bold girl!" muttered the former, in a low whisper.
"She is bent upon a conquest!"
"In which, with all her art, she will not succeed!"
"Umph! I don't know!  In the battle of life, the boldest
oftenest take the prizes. Hark, how she plays-the cunning
baggage! With what vigorous confidence she strikes the keys!
Observe her melting glance up at her victim, as if her very soul
were in her eyes.  And he-poor, inexperienced simpleton!takes it for the inspiration of devotion!  Well, I don't know
that I should laugh at him. Such a pair of eyes might well capture an older heart and a wiser head!"
"Nay, she has not won him yet!" said Mrs. Townsend in, a
dry, husky voice, and raising her left hand to her breast, which
was throbbing with singular violence and rapidity.
C" But she will-depend upon it. She is playing upon his
sympathies!"
"' What then?" said Mrs. Townsend, withdrawing her gaze from
the piano, and turning it upon Miriam.
"What then, Jane? How dull you are! WVhy,'Bel is a
master-spirit in that line; and he a simple, impressible, inexperienced youth!"
" True!" observed his wife, passively, with her, eye still fixed
upon Miriam.
"As I live," continued the merchant, "she feels her triumph.
Note how she struggles to catch his eye. She is evidently proud
of her conquest!"
Mrs. Townsend made no response to this remark.
s" Well," added her husband, "he is a magnificent fellow, to be




WHICH: THRE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               123
sure. But then, that isn't much, after all, in a man.  Money is
the main thing, and Samuel is troubled but little with that.'Be],
however, thinks, I presume, she can afford to indulge her own
wishes in this case, since she has enough for both. Well, perhaps
she is right. Samuel, with or without money, is, after all, an
object. Young, handsome, noble'really, I cannot help admiring'Bel's taste. ~ The young fellow is well worth the winning!"
Mrs. Townsend made no answer.
Her husband looked at her, as if for an explanation of her
silence.  As his glance fell upon her, his features became grave
with surprise.
And no wonder. Mrs. Townsend was at that moment a sub
ject for an artist.
A round, pale spot, of a snowy whiteness, was visible in the
hollow of her cheek.  Both hands were pressed tightly upon her
left breast, as if to stifle the loud beatings of her heart. Her
dark eye, which was riveted upon the fascinating Isabella, appeared to be shooting at the latter balls of malignant fire.
" Jane, my dear," said her husband, touching her softly on the
shoulder, "what is the matter?"
A blush —a slight start-an air of confusion-a quick, brave
struggle, and Mrs. Townsend was herself again, and in the full
possession of her intellectual powers.
C"Look there!" she said, in the low tone in which they had
been conversing, as she pointed towards the window.
Her husband turned his eyes in that direction, and started.
He was about to speak aloud, but Mrs. Townsend's hand was
over his lips in an instant, and the half-uttered word was drowned
by the swelling voices which accompanied the stirring music of
the piano.
Prostrate, and apparently lifeless, her face downward, upon a
lounge, lay their mutual favorite-Miriam.




124      WEHICH: THIE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Not a word!" whispered Mrs. Townsend.
"She has fainted-"
"Hush!" said his wife, as they passed softly towards the body.
" She loves him —"
Samuel'?"
"Yes, and this has been too much for her."' Poor thing!"
"Hush!. Raise her head gently while I apply my salts. So —.not a word.  They must know nothing of it, for the world!"
A few seconds passed away, and the couple were rewarded
for their solicitude by a low sigh. This was followed by a gentle
quivering of the muscles; that by a second and deeper sigh, and
Miriam looked up. Her face was pale, her eyes dry, her hands
cold, and her frame trembling with a cold shiver.
The music was still pealing-the two voices still ascending.
A glance-and Miriam comprehended all. In an instant, her
face was crimsoned with a burning blush. The poor girl uttered
a low moan, and hid her face on the bosom of her aunt, who was
sitting on her left-her uncle, holding and rubbing her small
trembling hand, on her right.
"Hush, Mirry, darling!" said Mrs. Townsend, in a low whisper; "not a word. Compose yourself. Inhale my salts. Be calm.
They know nothing of it!"
"Art sure, aunt?"
"Quite sure, darling.  There-wipe your eyes, and look
bright and cheerful, as if nothing had happened. There-that's a
love!"
" Call up your courage, Mirry!" said her uncle, encouragingly.
"They are bringing their anthem to a close."
"Put on a smile, Mirry, love. There-that's it. Now you
are our own darling once more!"
"Dear aunt, stay by me. I am feeble still!"




'WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              125
" Sumnon all your nerve, dear. I'll keep near you."
"They are finishing," observed Mr. Townsend. "Are you
composed, my dear?"
"Quite, dear uncle. HIow shall I thank you?"
"Hush!  Don't mention it. They are done. I must rise
and keep them away!"
" Bravo,'Bel! bravo, Samuel!" he continued, approaching
them, and taking a hand of each.  "Admirable! I really must
thank you for the pleasure which you have given us. You cannot
conceive how deeply you have touched our feelings!"
"Say, rather, the music," returned Isabella; " it is so solemn,
so inspiring. Don't you agree with me, dear aunt?"
" Something should be said for the singers,'Bel! You are
really too modest!"
" What think you, Mirry, dear 3" continued Isabella.
"Matchless hypocrite!" murmured Mrs. Townsend, mentally.
"The music is certainly very inspiring, cousin."
"And solemn, too-eh, coz 2" persisted Isabella.
"There can be no doubt of the. solemnity of sacred themes, in
whatever shape, I think!" answered Miriam, modestly.
"True, Miss Selden!" observed Samuel.  " Sacred themes are
ever solemn, because they are higher than all of earth; because
they purify, ennoble, and elevate the soul; and because they lift
the heart, as it were, to heaven, and bring it into a joyful communion, if only for a little time, with God!"
"This man, at least, has courage," mused Mr. Townsend, remembering Mr. Brigham's observation; " for he is in EARNEST!"
"But, dear friends," continued Samuel, with a serene smile,
"there is a something higher and more inspiring than even music —
a something which takes us nearer and quicker to our PrincePRAYER! To him who knoweth not its use, it is as nothing; to
him whose heart approaches it in feebleness or in doubt, it re,
turns no joy; but to him who goes to it in faith-a little thing,




126       AWHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
but ah! how full of price!-it is as the refreshing breath of the
morning, when cleansed and gilded by the sun!"
"I always feel happier after prayer!" exclaimed Isabella, with
affected feeling.  "Don't you, Mirry, dear?"
" Precious hypocrite! you play your game boldly and well!
I'll preserve Miriam from your malevolence, however," mused
the merchant.
Then speaking aloud, he said"Yes, there is an unction in prayer. Let us partake of it
BOW!?'
All dropped upon their knees: two, at least, in reverence.
Mrs. Townsend and Miriam by the lounge, near the window;
Mr. Townsend by the sofa, his face towards the wall; Samuel
on the floor, midway between the centre-table and the foldingdoors; Isabella, in a studied attitude, her face towards the object
of her new attachment, her forehead bowed upon her clasped
hands, and her eyes turned stealthily upon him, whom she was
now exerting all the fascination of her woman's powers to win.
"Samuel," asked the merchant, "will you kindly lead the
way'"
There was a momentary pause-a solemn silence, and then
the pure soul of Samuel was communing, in artless, earnest simplicity, with our Common Friend.




CHAPTER VIII.
BETWEEN nine and ten o'clock of the following morning, Miriam
ascended to her chamber, and quietly dressed herself for a visit
to Mrs. Jones. Her dress was in keeping with her modest,
retiring nature: simple, neat, and plain. On her way to the hall
door she was met by her aunt.
"Gbing to take the air, Mirry?" inquired the latter, who had
a shrewd conception of her real object.
"Partly, aunt. Good-bye for an hour!"
And. she passed from the house. Fifteen minutes later, Miriam
was threading her way up a short arched alley leading to a small
yard which faced a dingy two-story brick building, with a door
at either end, which communicated with the first and second
floors; a flight of stone steps in the centre led to an area, which
branched off, right and left, to as many doors, each leading to a
small, narrow, dirty den, termed by courtesy a basement, which
was partially lighted by a small window-sash, whose "panes"
were variously made up of castaway hats, protruding bunches
of discarded frocks, tacked and ragged newspapers, " cut to fit,'
and here and there a genuine sheet of glass, miscellaneously
spotted with greasy finger-marks and serried ridges of congregated dust. A hod leaning against the area before one door, and
an unwashed, uncombed urchin peeling potatoes at the other,
indicated the character and nationality of the basement tenants.
The yard, or rather the narrow space which was dignified by
that name, was paved with medium-sized cobble-stones, between
the spaces of which a mess of discardedsuds, of a bluish tinge,
was struggling to find its way into the absorbing earth. Three
(127)




1i28     WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
or four scattered poles upheld. two sagging clothes-lines, which
threatened every instant to give way beneath their drying burdens of shirts, and caps, and frocks, and flannels, and kerchiefs, ot
every size and color, and let them shift for themselves. Midway
in the yard, as if to indicate the equal right of the tenants of both
sides of the house to its use, was an open cistern, from which an
Irish woman was drawing water, and equally interesting herself
in filling a large tub, and in regarding our heroine with a prololnged stare.
In a corner, on the left, before a tub which was supported by
a small bench, stood a short, stout female, whose lively, intelligent eye, and clean, pleasant features, bespoke her the possessor
of a happy, cheerful, and contented spirit.
Mrs. Farley was a poor widow, who gained a subsistence for
herself and little Bob-a short, timid, simple-minded boy of ten
years, with a broken back, a misfbrtune which, instead of exciting
the pity, evoked the derision of his schoolmates, who always
called him " Humpy"-by washing, and, as her sign at the corner
of the alley stated, going out to day's work.
Naturally tidy, prudent, and industrious, Mrs. Farley, as the
good creature herself expressed it, " had always enough to do,
eniough to eat, enough to wear, and enough to be thankful for;
and if the boys would only let her Bob alone, and not call him
names, and not hit him, she would be the happiest woman in the
world."
Mrs. Farley was a devout Christian, a good neighbor, and a faithful friend. She understood religion as they understand it who
know it by its realities, and not alone by its forms; and she enjoyed
it as they enjoy it who are sometimes favored with visits from its
Founder. Every Sabbath Mrs. Farley went up to the house of
the Lord to thank Him for His loving-kindness to herself and
boy during the week; and to renew her grateful praises to her
Redeemer for securing her and hers a home in His house of




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                129
many mansions. So humble, gentle, and consistent was her cldeportment, both as a Christian, a neighbor, and a friend, that even
the Irish Catholics, by whom she was surrounded, were reluctantly
compelled to admit that "Misses Farley, the little Methodist
woman," or, as they sometimes varied it, " the little Prodisint
craycher," was, after all, a "nice body," and stood almost as
good a chance of reaching heaven as themselves.
Mrs. Farley was one of the few who are wise enough to
make a pleasure of business. It was really delightful to see her
work. She went at it with the same joyful alacrity which
most women display when preparing for a ball; and she took
hold of it with a spirit which seemed to say-" Here's fun; now
for it."  As she worked, she sung; and as she sung, she worked;
and thus it was with her the livelong day, from Monday morning
to Saturday night, and from January to December.  Her songs
were those of the Christian-hymns: hymns of joy, and prayer,
and praise.
Sneer not at them, reader. Try them, rather; and when,
happily for thee, thou canst sing them with the same zest and
the same heart-gushing fervor as did our humble laundress, thy
spirit will have realized the truth that there is a higher state. of
mind than a scoffer's.
As Miriam passed up the alley, she heard the voice of the
happy laundress singing" And let this feeble body fail,
And let it faint or die,
fMy soul shall quit the mournful vale,
And soar to worlds on high;
Shall join the disembodied saints,
And find its long-sought restThat only bliss for which it pants,
In the Redeemer's breast."
6*




130       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
The words were accompanied by a sound like that of a rippy
dippy, dip, dip, dip, which Miriam's delicate ear recognized as
that made by wet linen when rubbed and shaken by an energetic
set of knuckles.
As our heroine entered the yard, her eye followed the sound,
and it rested upon the cheerful countenance of the laundress,
who was working and singing away like one who thoroughly enjoyed both-'In hope of that immortal crown,
-A-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dipI now the cross sustain,
-A-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dipAnd gladly wander up and down,
A-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dipAnd smile at toil and pain-'"
" How do you do, madam?" said Miriam, as she approached
the singer.
Mrs. Farley looked around at the inquirer, but without relinquishing her work, and politely returned the salute, which was
followed up by the perpetual a-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dip.
"A  pleasant morning, miss!" a-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dip.
" Can I do anything for you?' a-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dip.
oI'm looking for a lady by the name of Jones," continued
Miriam. " Can you direct me to her?"
"Yes, miss!" returned the laundress. - "One moment, and I
will lead you to her with pleasure." A-rippy dippy, dip, dip,
dip-dip-dip-dip-DIP!
And the shirt was plunged into the clean white suds, then
wrung till it fairly squealed, and then folded up and laid carefully
upon a small pyramid of similar articles which rested upon the
bench.
"Now, miss," said the l0undress, as she raised her apron and




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                131
wiped her arms and hands, "I am at your service.  This way,
if you please."
She entered the house and ascended the narrow, naked staircase-every step of which was scoured as clean and bright as
the top of a new table-which led to the second floor.
"'Your name, if you please?" asked the laundress, as they
reached the landing.
Miriam  gave it, and Mrs. Farley tapped gently at the back
door.
" Come in," answered a voice, which was recognized by the
visitor.
Mrs. Farley turned the knob, and they entered.
A lady, with a child in her lap, sat near the solitary window
which lighted' the small square apartment, which was divided
from the front room by a thin partition. The lady was dressed
in a bright, showy silk dress, which contrasted strongly with her
present humble home. Her hair was of a light color; her eyes
of a rich blue; her features straight; her lip proud and haughty;
her complexion fair.
This was Mrs. Jones.
"Miss Selden," said the laundress, with an air of deep respect.
And, having announced the visitor to her guest, Mrs. Farley
quietly withdrew, and returned to her work, over which she
might have been heard, a few moments later, singing"'Oh, what are all my sufferings here,
-A-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dipIf, Lord, thou count me meet
-A-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dipWith that enraptured host t' appear,
-A-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dipAnd worship at thy feet?
-A-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dip.




132      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
Give joy or grief, give ease or pain,
Take life or friends away,
But let me find them all again
In that eternal day.'
-A-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dip,
Rippy dippy, dip, dip, dip."
"Mir-I beg your pardon-Miss Selden!" said Mrs. Jones,
motioning her visitor to a chair. "To what am I indebted for
the honor of this visit l"
It was evident from I1er manner that the speaker was a creature of pride, and that her change in circumstances had had no
effect in subduing the haughtiness of her spirit.
"To a sincere wish to serve you," returned Miriam, gently.
" I thank you," returned the proud woman, in a cold, sarcastic
tone.  "But, as I am not in a position to require your aid, you
need not give yourself any trouble."
Miriam felt hurt at this reply, but she stifled the indignant
feeling, and replied"I do not wish to be considered obtrusive, but on learning
that you were in affliction, I thought that-"
" You might follow in your impertinent cousin's wake," interrupted the other; "that you might, like her, condescendingly
step down from your pride, and insult with your condescending
alms one whom fortune has exerted herself to crush! You are
very kind, miss; but I am not yet a beggar!"
"Oh! dear Mrs. Jones, you misapprehend me; you do, indeed! I had no such thought. Nor was I aware that my cousin.
had called upon you."
"Know it now, then," said Mrs. Jones, rising and taking a
roll of bills from the mantel: "She came here last night, with
her smooth-faced lover, Mr. Leland, and, with an air of ostentations generosity, threw this into my lap.'There,' she said,




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               133
with impertinent condescension,'there's a hundred dollars for
you. I would give you more, but that is all I have with me.
Keep up your spirits, trust in the Lord, and you shall not want.
Come, Samuel!' And, before I could recover from the shock of
the insult, she was gone!"'I fear you misunderstood cousin's motive," said Miriam.
"I do not think she —"
"Her motive was perfectly transparent!" interrupted the
other. "It was to dazzle her lover; it was to impress him with
the melting kindness of her heart-the humane richness of her
nature.  That was the motive; and he-simpleton that he is!rewarded her generosity with a smile. If it were not that I am
not yet satisfied of his real character-whether he be absolutely
what he appears, or the reverse-I would have hurled the money
at his retreating head!"
Miriam's heart throbbed violently.
"I think," she said, with some confusion, "that Mr. Leland
is all that he seems; and I am quite sure he would not knowingly wound any one's feelings, for the world. I could tell you
more of him, but-"
She paused a moment, and then added, with an effort, as a
deep blush overspread her artless countenance"I meant to say that I esteem Mr. Leland very highly, and
have seen so much of the purity of his nature, that I do not
believe him capable of an ungenerous action. If you had seen
how happy he was last evening when my aunt promised to step
in between you and want, you would understand him better!"
"Perhaps so!" returned Mrs. Jones, who read the secret of
that little, artless heart.' I am willing," she added, with a slight
abatement of her hauteur, "to confess that I have not entirely
lost my confidence in the gentleman. But why did he bring that
brazen creature here to mock mc in my misery?"




134       WVHIcH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"I am not prepared to say. But it was with a kindly motive
-I feel assured of that!"
"Well, let it pass," said Mrs. Jones.  "And now for yourself."
"I understood from Mr. Leland'that you were in distress,
and-"
"Enough," interrupted the haughty woman. "I am not in
want of sympathy; nor do I ask your assistance. When I
stand in need of either, I know where to look for it!"
" I had no thought of wounding you," said Miriam, dropping
her eyes in confusion.  "I really had not; and if you will only
forgive my boldness in coming, I will-'.'
Mrs. Jones regarded her while she spoke with a steady eye;
but as she paused, her features softened. The tone and manner
of the speaker touched her.
"' Keep your seat," she said, as Miriam attempted to rise,
" and give me yourhand."
Miriam complied with her, request, and the proud woman
looked at her for a few moments with a cold, dry eye, as if to
detect a spirit of lurking pride, of curiosity-of condescension,
or of affected humility; but she could discover naught in that
sweet, artless face, nor in that clear, frank eye, but tender sympathy, and real Christian feeling.
As this conviction impressed itself upon her mind, her haughty
nature melted, and with a convulsive pressure of her visitor's
small hand, she burst into tears.
Miriam considerately dropped her eyes, which lighted upon
the unhappy woman's little one, who was looking up at her with
mingled curiosity and dislike.
"Do you love poor me'." asked Miriam, holding out her
hands invitingly to the child.
The latter drew back, and said —




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                135
No.. Go away. You make my mamma cry!"
Miriam turned aside her head to hide an uprising tear.
"Hush, Ada-hush, you saucy little thing!  Miriam is your
mamma's friend. You must love her!"
"Do you love her, mamma 2"
"Yes, darling."
The child was silent; but the expression of her eyes indicated
that she had some misgivings upon that point.
" You must kiss Miriam, darling, and make up friends."
The child\ looked doubtfully at the visitor; but a sweet smile
from the latter conquered her, and putting her little arms around
Miriam, she pressed her ruby lip to hers with an earnestness
which showed how completely every doubt was banished from
her mind.
"Forgive my rudeness, Miriam," said Mrs. Jones, as her
child sunk back in her lap. "My recent experiences of the
world's pride and faithlessness have shaken my confidence in
humanity."
"But not in me, I hope, dear friend!"
"No, Mirry —no!" answered the other, wringing her hand.
" But"-she paused-emotion choked her utterance.
Miriam was silent from sympathy.
The child's doubts of Miriam were beginning to return.
" I have had so much to try me, of late!" added the woman,
recurring to the same idea.  "My husband's failure, and sudden
absence-the abandonment of my dearest friends —my abject
poverty-!"
"Take comfort," observed Miriam.  "Better times will
come. It is good for us to taste, once in a while, of adversitywe can the better appreciate prosperity. It teaches us also who
is our Best Friend."
"Oh, Miriam-I cannot endure it! My heart will break!"




136      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Trust in Him!" said Miriam, with an impressive gesture.
"He is good and kind. Trust in Him!"
The woman shook her head. Her heart was still in the world;
Miriam's religious suggestion had fallen upon an icy ear.
"Think of it, Miriam!" she said, impetuously.  "To be left
without a dollar; to be abandoned by one's most valued friends;
to be avoided by one's very relatives; to be shunned in one's
adversity by those who have thriven on one's prosperity. By
onle's very sisters, too!"
Miriam looked down.  She knew not how to answer. She
was puzzled what to make of her companion, upon whose ear
spiritual comfort fell as on a block of stone.
" And yet," murmured Miriam, "she has always professed to
be one of God's people!"
Poor Miriam little guessed that it was a mere worldly profession; a conventional matter: nothing more.
"c You do not answer me, Miriam 1"
"It is very sad," said Miriam.
"Sad!" exclaimed the other, with energetic scorn.  "It is
terrible! Fancy it, in little. I-richly born, and tenderly cared
for-I, who till now have enjoyed all that fortune could give or
heart desire —I, the daughter of an opulent merchant, and
the wife of an opulent merchant-I, a favored child, a caressed
wife —I, who have ever revelled in the lap of luxury, and who
have known poverty only by its name —I, the nursling of wealth,
of pride and fashion —I. I am a dependlent on the bounty of my
laundress!"
Miriam was silent.
"While," added the impassionedxspeaker, " those whom I have
befriended, and those who are allied to me by blood, are living
in their accustomed luxury, perfectly regardless of my position!
Is it not exasperating."




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               137
Miriam could not speak, if she would. It affected her to learn
that her companion was an utter stranger to that beautiful spiritual
system which enables the human heart to greet prosperity and
adversity, want and plenty, joy and sorrow, happiness and affliction, with an equal welcome, and an even tranquility. She had
not looked for this, and the discovery brought tears to her eyes
Mrs. Jones observed them, and continued" I see you feel for me i"
" I do, indeed!" murmured Miriam.
"But they shall pay for it!" added the other.  " For every
tear they have made me shed, they shall return a groan. If they
have forgotten their pride, I have not mine! I'll shame them
-shame them to the very dust!"
Miriam looked up at her in, astonishment.
"Ah! you may well stare at me, girl. But I have said itthey shall drain the cup of humiliation to the dregs!"
Miriam regarded her inquiringly.' I will tell you what I mean," said the vindictive woman.
"Think you I was forced to hide my head in this vile hole?
Know me better!"
Miriam shuddered; but her companion was too absorbed in
her own energetic thoughts to observe it.
"When,"said the latter, "I received notice to abandon my
house, I sent copies of it, without remark, to my sisters-you
know them, Miriarn,-they are our; first families,'" she added,
mockingly, "fully expecting they would at once hurry to my
rescue, and tender me a home and support for myself and child.
But-would you believe it — they returned the copies without
comment, without a word! Do you hear me, girl? My very
sisters did this-my very sisters!" she repeated, with a vehemence
which caused her timid auditor to tremble like a fluttering leaf.
"I could scarcely credit my eyes," continued  Mrs. Jones.
"My heart sunk, my brain reeled. But I did not fall-no, I




138      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
did not fall 1" she cried, exultingly. "They did not drive me to
that!  It would have been too glorious a satisfaction for them.
My pride sustained me, and I determined to punish them. There
was but one way to do that-one only way: through their family
PRIDE! I dispatched a note at once to my laundress; told her
of my embarrassment, of my husband's failure and flight, of
the faithlessness of my friends, of my poverty, and of my want
of a roof to shelter me. She replied as I wished, and —my proud
relatives have the satisfaction of knowing that their sister is a
beggar, and herself and child dependents upon the bounty of a
common washwoman! Ha! ha! is not that a Roland'for their
Oliver."
Miriam was visibly uneasy.
"What means have you 2" she asked.
"Not a dollar! Not a jewel —not a ring —not a second dress.
Their humiliation would have been incomplete if I had reserved
a solitary shilling!"
Miriam shuddered. She drew out her purse, and said" Will you not allow me-"
" No!" interrupted the haughty woman, with a proud wave of
her hand. " Put up your money, girl. You mean well, and I
am grateful for your kindness; but I would not touch a dollar
of it for the world!"
Poor Miriam was troubled. She had that on her mind which
she felt it a duty to give utterance to; but her gentle nature
shrunk from arousing the animosity of the fierce spirit beside
her. Still it was a duty, and she concluded to perform it, be the
consequences to herself what they might.
"You are thoughtful, Miss Selden!" observed Mrs. Jones, who
was quietly regarding her. "Speak out, girl. Am I the subject
of your reflections 2"
"Yes," answered Miriam, frankly. "I have been wondering
why-but I fear you will think me over bold!"




WuICn: TEE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               139
"No, girl! I possess myself too much spirit to censure it iij
others. Speak out!  You say you have been wondering-at
what."
"Yes," said Miriam. with a heroic effort, "that in your hour
of affliction you never thought of calling upon the Lord for
help.'
Her companion laughed.
"Why should I?" she asked, half scornfully.
" He is so good, so generous, and so reliable a helper," said
Miriam, simply.  "And it is so sweet to turn to one who we
know will understand our troubles, and joyfully remove them."
" I have not the honor of His acquaintance; and certainly not
the faith in Him, which you appear to have, miss, or perhaps I
might have done so!"
" But if you only would get acquainted with Him, dear Mrs.
Jones," said Miriam, not heeding her sarcasm, "you would like
Him, and believe in Him, and have faith in IIim, too. I have
known tHim ever since I was a little girl, and I can testify-very
humbly and very simply, to be sure, but still joyfully-that He
has been very good to me. In sorrow I have turned to Him,
and He has wiped away my, tears; in affliction I have appealed
to Him, and He has sent peace unto, my heart. Oh, do try
Him, Mrs. Jones —try Him once, and see if He be not the rarest
and best friend you ever knew. He is so good, so kind; so full
of truth and love; so willing to. hear, and to be found by all
who wish to tell Him of their troubles, and to find peace and
rest. Do try Him once, dear Mrs. Jones; and you will find
peace, and comfort, too, and strength to bear up with your
afflictions, which must, I know, be very hard to sustain all
alone. Try Him once-what He has so often done for me, IHe
will, so full is He of goodness, as gladly do for you!"
s" Would you have me play the hypocrite?" demanded her
companion.




140      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Oh no, Mrs. Jones. I would not, indeed. But it would not
be wrong to ask the Lord for help. He would not regard it so,
I know. He would be very glad to hear what; you might have
to tell, and to assist you, too, Mrs. Jones, as no one else could.
He tells us so, Himself.' Call upon Me,' He says,'in your
day of trouble, and I will deliver you!' Open your heart to
Him, Mrs. Jones, and only see how He will answer you!"
"Why should I?" asked the other, calmly. "H'e knows it
well enough already! Why should I?"
"Because He asks it, Mrs. Jones.'Give me thine heart!'"
"It would not be worth His acceptance," returned the woman,
in a voice that indicated how much she was disturbed.
" Oh, don't delude yourself with any thought like that, dear
Mrs. Jones. The Lord is very full of graciousness and goodness,
and He will take it with as much joy as if it were the best heart
in the world!"
"I fear not," said the woman, with a shudder. " I am looking
in upon it now, and I see things which make me tremble!"
" Dear Mrs. Jones," cried Miriam, with an air of simple joy,
" that is a good sign: it is the first dawn of repentance. The
Lord is looking in upon you; and the mild radiance of His eye
is lighting up your heart, so you and He can see it together-so
you can know what you are giving, so He can know what He is
taking. Do let us kneel down and pray, Mrs. Jones-it is not
fitting that we should sit or stand in His presence!"
"You are in error, miss!" returned the other, coldly. "I see
no light there-all is darkness!"
"Dear iMrs. Jones-"
"Hear me, girl. I look in upon my heart, and see three-andthirty years of life —but such a life! Shall I tell you of what it
is made up?"
"Oh, not to me, Mrs. Jones-but the Lord; and, then, no
matter of what it is made up, He will take it, thank you for the




WVHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT               141
gift, and bless you as no one else can, for the balance of your
days."
" Well, to the Lord, then, if you will have it so. Of this my
life is made:-Of an infancy which was sinless, because it was
pure and thoughtless. Of a childhood which was made up, in
the main, of a world of studies and preparationsfor the world,
but not a single solemn one for aught beyond it. It is true, I was
sent, in a formal way, to Sabbath-school; but the lessons were
formal, they were formally read, formally hurried through, and
formally forgotten. I was sent to church, but everything and
everybody was formal there, as in the Sabbath-school. The
prayers were formally uttered, the sermons formally read, the
hymns of praise formally sung; the congregation entered formally,
joined in the services formally, and when they departed, departed
formally. No one appeared to be in earnest, neither old nor
young; neither preacher, nor hearer, nor singer: all were alike
formal, cold, undisturbed. And yet it was called God's house;
its preacher was called God's preacher; its attendants were
called God's people. I could not understand it. At home, we
had prayers morning, evening, and at meal-times. But it wats
there as at church: mere formality.  My father said grace
-it was short, cold, formal: without earnestness, without feeling. He opened family prayer in the morning, in the evening:
but it was ever the same: formality-nothing more. Formality
without feeling, formality without earnestness. My parents, my
sisters, my acquaintance, my friends-all were alike.  They
prayed, and after prayer, the theatre; they prayed, and after
prayer, a ball; they prayed, and after prayer, a jest, which was
not always either pure or refined; they prayed, and after prayer,
the opera; they prayed, and after prayer, slander, slang, and
ribaldry, in which each deemed it a glorious feat to outdo his or
her neighbor.  And thus, anmid formalities and informalities,
beneath the pressure of solemn preparations fir the world, but.




142       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFI.
not a single solemn preparation for aught beyond it, my childhood passed away-stamping upon my young mind the indelible
impression that life was a joke, religion a conventionalism, and
everything unreal.
" I glided into maidenhood. I had looked forward to it long,
with yearning and impatience, as the Christian looks forward to
the celestial kingdom. It was to my young heart the one great
season of woman's life-her golden era of love, of dress, of balls,
of music, of fond hopes, of bright thoughts and happy dreams;
and I found all these,- enjoyed all these, mingled, however, with
other things for which I had never looked. If maidenhood has
its sweets, it has its bitternesses as well. It is the era of observation: for the eye then is young, fresh, sensitive, and brought for
the first time in absolute contact with the realities of the world.
I will now tell you what I observed:
"That men and women were educated systematically. and
thoroughly for the world, and only formally for the eternity
beyond it.
"That while society affected to venerate religion, it set him
down for a simpleton who really did venerate it.
" That the church was simply a temple where all the world
assembled on a stated day in the week to witness the last triumphs of fashion.
"That it was an institution where a slight moral tone was
given to the young mind-just.enough to enable it to walk respectably through the world.
"A kind of market, to which managing mothers brought their
marriageable daughters weekly to exhibit, and incite buyers.
"A place of resort for young men, to stare at women, and display their own mental imbecility, impertinence, and bad breeding.
"A show-room, where young. women went every Sabbath
to exhibit their youthful charms, to smilingly encourage the ina



WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             143
pertinence of young men, and to add to their. own acquaintance.
"A forum, from which the preacher; made weekly exhibitions of
his intellectual acumen and oratorical powers; from which he
displayed his dexterity in depriving religion of its body, and
holding up its naked skeleton to view; from which he preached
the Gospel to accommodate his patrons, and keep up an appearance of morality.
"An institution, which appeared to owe its construction to the
mind of man, and not to that of God; which seemed to have been
built to serve the interests of men, and not those of God; which
appeared to have been made to endorse and legitimate the hollowness, the hypocrisies, the frivolities, and flimsy formalities of
society.
"This is what I observed in the Church: Reality nowhere, Formality everywhere! What wonder, then, if, on seeing all around
me formal, I grew insensibly into a firm belief that everything
in life was formal and unreal, and that I grew formal too!"
Miriam could not say. She had herself never looked at religion, or the Church either, in that way; but she thought if Mrs.
Jones had at that time only asked the Lord if she saw them in
their true light, that He would have answered " No," and that
He would then have given her other and trustier eyes, which
would have enabled her to take of them a very different view.
She said that humanity was naturally frail and weak, and that
our Heavenly Father, in His great compassion, had given them
religion to make them firm and strong; that they were liable to
err, and that religion pointed out the only path of right; that
they were prone to guile, but that religion made them pure;
that they were proud, and hard, and bold, but that religion.
made them meek, and kind, and gentle; that they were cold and
selfish, but that religion made them mild. arnd oPpen   Ol the rclsv to
melting charity; that the Church 




144      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
good and gentle walked on their road to heaven; that the minister was one of Jehovah's angels to point out to them the way;
and that if they heeded not His teachings, His warnings, or His
pleadings, and walked a wholly different path, that the fault would
be with them, and not at all with Him, in the great judgment-day.
"'I am the way and the life,'" quoted Miriam.  "Ah, would
you but believe in that, Mrs. Jones —I'm sure you'd find a comfort in it which man. not be found in the world. The heart that
is in sorrow, it relieves; the head that is bowed down, it lifts up;
the mind that is in darkness, it illumines; and the spirit that is
weak, it makes strong."
The proud woman shook her head.
"Too late-too late!" she observed.  "My heart is too hardened and embittered by the world!"
" Oh, say not so, dear Mrs. Jones.  Were it more obdurate
than steel, or iron, or rock, or anything that is hard, it would
break up and melt, and overflow with sweetness at His word!
IDear friend, let us ask hIim, like little children, on our knees, to
be gracious, and His goodness will descend, in a stream, to your
soul!"
" No," said the other, coldly, and in doubt.  "The training of
my life was notfor heaven, but TIHE WORLD."
"But faith-ever so small a grain-will undo it all, Mrs.
Jones, and put you in the heavenly way!"
" Faith 2" repeated the woman, her eyes flashing with mingled
terror and derision. "Faith! I have none. The little that I
possessed when a child, society robbed me of long ago; not all
at once —Oh no, society is subtler than that!-but slowly, imperceptibly, now a little and then a little, until it had filched it all,
by degrees. Faith. Society allows its victims no faith, except
in-itself! Faith in coldness, in frivolities, in appearances, in permissible frauds, in excusable falsehoods, in conventional deceits,
in utter belief in unbelief, in confidence in non-confidence, in




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              145
hollow pomps, in veneered piety, in skeletons only! Faith! Society taught me to have faith in family pride, in a brilliant position, in a fair outside, in the all-importance of wealth and an
imposing appearance. It taught me how to sigh becomingly,
how to smile becomingly, how to weep, walk, dance, sing, pray,
flirt and laugh, becomingly; how to go to church, to the opera,
and to the theatre, becomingly; how to dress, and eat, and drink,
becomingly; how to enter a church, a drawing-room, a ball-room,
and a thousand other places, with an air. How to listen to known
liars, and affect implicit belief in every word they uttered. How
to receive profes sional libertines and retired fraudulent bankrupts —
as if the first were gentlemen, and the second honest men. How
to veil anguish beneath a cheerful smile; indifference, with an
aspect of intense interest. How, in fine, to become a thoroughbred hypocrite, like the world; to follow it in its habits and
deceits; to join in its solemn mockeries ahd hollow pomps; to
crown successful Knavery with honors, simple Honesty with
sneers; to worship the gilded Seeming, mock at the homely Real;
and," she added, with a sarcastic laugh,, " to glide down the broad
road to everlasting perdition, FASHIONABLY, GRACEFULLY, AND RESPECTABLY!
Miriam shuddered. Her companion observed it, and remarked,
in a hollow voice"There is, therefore, as you see, girl, but little hope for one
like me 1"
"Nay, I think not so," returned Miriam, rising, however,
with an uneasiness which she made no effort to conceal. "The
Lord is very full of goodness; and He will gladly help you, if
you will only let Him.'Ask, and you shall receive,' He says.
Why will you not ask Him, dear Mrs. Jones. He will listen
like a father, and His Son, the Prince, will come and bring you
comfort like a friend. Do ask Him, now-won't you?"
7




146      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"I'll think of it," returned the other, musingly.'"Yes, I'll
think of it!"
"Ah, thank you —thank you!" cried Miriam, embracing her.
"You will be so happy, then-so very, very happy!"
"You are a good girl, Miriam!" said the unhappy woman,
hoarsely, as she pressed her to her bosom. " And one of these
days, when my husband returns, and we are all settled again
once more, you and I, Mirry, will see what we can do towards
leading little Ada here in the right path! She, at least," added
the woman, with a shudder, "shall not worship skeletons!"
"So we will —so we will!" cried Miriam, joyfully. "And
now, dear Mrs. Jones, I must go. I promised aunt to return in
an hour, and I fear she will be uneasy. But before I go, I want
you to grant me two favors!"
"A thousand, Miriam. I can deny you nothing. Name them."
"You must let me lend you some money. You can return it
to me again, you know, when Mr. Jones comes back.  Ah! now,
don't look cold again on your poor Mirry-don't. It will make
me so happy.  There is no indignity in borrowing, is there?
Do take it, now, and I'll promise to borrow some of you when
Mr. Jones returns- — do, now, won't you?  I shall be miserable if
you refuse!"
" Well, then-" said the proud woman, reluctantly, "I will
break my resolution: what-is the amount?"
"Fifty dollars!" said Miriam.  "It is not much; but you
can borrow another fifty when this is gone, you know: and nobody will be aware of it but ourselves. Dear, dear-won't that
be nice!"
Mrs. Jones surveyed the artless being before her for a few
moments with an unsteady eye, a quivering lip, and a heaving
breast. Then murmuring-"And but for the skeleton usages of
society, I might have been like her!" she burst into tears.
" Dear Mrs. Jones!" exclaimed Miriam, throwing her arms




WHICH:  THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.            147
around her neck and kissing her affectionately, " don't crydon't!  Forgive me. I didn't mean to offend you by offering
you the money-I really didn't. You can return it whenever
you like, after Mr. Jones comes back, you know. Now don't
cry-there's a good soul. You will make me so happy, if you
only won't!"
"You musn't make my mamma cry!" cried little Ada, tugging with energy at Miriam's frock. "Go away, do, and let my
mamma be!"
" Dear Ada," said Miriam, releasing herself from Mrs. Jones,
and catching up the child, "I wouldn't make mamma cry for the
world. Would I, mamma?"
"Miriam loves your mamma, Ada!" said the mother, with an
effort. "She don't make mamma cry; mamma cries for herself."
"Mamma musn't cry!" said the child. "It makes Ada feel
bad-here! Baby don't like to feel bad, mamma; makes her
cry!"
"Mamma won't, then, darling!" said the mother, smiling
through her tears.
Baby looked as if she had her doubts, and said no more, but
was very watchful, for all that.
"I was not crying about the money, Miriam," said Mrs.
Jones, yielding to the caresses of baby; "but at a thought
which struck me at the moment. And now for your second
wish."
"That you will kindly permit me to call again to-night, with
Aunt Townsend, and perhaps Mr. Leland," said Miriam, with a
slight glow. " I am not quite so sure of him: although I would
very much like to have him come," she said, hesitatingly. " He
is so good, and-you would like him so!"
"Granted, Miriam. Call, both of you-all of you —as often
as you will!"




148      WHICH: THE  RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
A ray of joy animated Miriam's handsome countenance.
"Oh, dear Mrs. Jones-you make me so happy with your
kindness!" she cried, "I shall always remember it. Goodbye!" she continued, embracing her and baby both at once.
"Good-bye —good-bye, Ada!"
And Miriam tore herself away —hastily wiping her eyes as she
fled from the apartment.
She paused a moment on the landing to recover her selfpossession, and then slowly descended the stairs.
Upon reaching the yard, she found the ever-cheerful laundress
working away with right good-will, and singing gayly as before:
"'My God, I know, I feel thee mine,
-A-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dipAnd will not quit my claim,
— A-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dipTill all I have is lost in thine,
-A-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dipAnd all renewed I am.'"
Miriam waited till the stanza was concluded, and then laid her
hand gently on the singer's shoulder.
Mrs. Farley looked around.
"Oh, is it you, miss?  How d'ye do again? Are you
going 2"'"Yes," said Miriam, with a smile.  "But I want to know
your name?"
" Oh, dear —is that all?" said the good creature, laughing.
" Farley."
"Thank you," said Miriam. " Mine is Miriam. You and I
must get acquainted, Mrs. Farley. I see you are one of our
Prince's people!"
Mrs. Farley looked at her for a moment in surprise. Suddenly, however, her mild features became radiant with delight.
It was with an intuitive perception of Miriam's meaning.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               149
The eyes of the pair met, and sparkled with mutual gladness.
For each recognized in the other an humble, sincere sister in
Christ; and the cordial bond of Christian sympathy united them
in heart.
A smile of singular sweetness passed between them; and a
brief silence followed, as if their joy was too great for utterance.
It was as an unexpected meeting of two pilgrims bound for
the sal'e pleasant goal.
Their joy at length found vent in a mutual sigh.
"Oh, dear!" cried Mrs. Farley, " you make me very happy.":' And you make me happy, too," said Miriam. "I shall come
and see you very often, Mrs. Farley."
"Do —do!" cried the laundress. "I shall be so glad to see
you!"
"Thank you-thank you; I shall be here to-night with a
friend or two, and then we'll have a happy time."
"Dear, dear, —so we will!"
"Then good-bye for the present!"
"Good-bye-good-bye!"
And these two simple hearts, of only a moment's acquaintance, kissed each other as cordially as if they had been friends
for many years.
As Miriam turned into the alley, the cheerful voice of the
pious laundress fell on her ear"I hold thee with a trembling hand,
-A- rippy dippy, dip, dip, dipAnd will not let thee go;
-A-rippy dippy, dip, dip, dipTill steadfastly by faith I stand,
-— rippy dippy, dip, dip, dipAnd all thy goodness know."




CHAPTER I X
MIRIAM returned home with an air of mingled thought and
sadness.  On her way through the hall to her chamber, her aunt
observed her from the drawing-room.
"Poor girl:!" murmured the latter. "Something has disturbed her."
Mrs. Townsend waited a while for Miriam to come down; but
as the latter did not make her appearance, her aunt ascended
anxiously to her chamber.
She found Miriam upon her knees in silent prayer.
"What is it, Mirry 2" asked Mrs. Townsend.
"Dear aunt," said Miriam, rising, "our old acquaintance, Mrs.
Jones, is in deep trouble, and I have been appealing to Our
Friend for her."
"You have been to see her?"
"Yes, aunt."
And Miriam narrated all the details of her interview with
the unhappy woman.
" You see, therefore, dear aunt," staid Miriam in conclusion,
"that we must do something for the poor lady, in addition to
securing her from want. We must pray for her."
Mrs. Townsend made no reply, and Miriam added"The world has dealt hardly with her. It has cruelly prepared her for life's sunshine only; when want and affliction come,
she has nothing to lean on. While fortune remains true, she is
strong; when it fails, she fails too. The ground glides away
from under her; she looks about her for something-a rope, a
(150)'




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                151
tree-branch, or a creeping vine, for safety; but in vain-all is
ruin, chaos: and she feels herself going down, amid sinking
earth and crumbling, toppling rocks, into a dark gulf of unknown
depths, whose loud roar and deafening din drown her despairing
cries.  0, aunt, why will the world go on thus —why will it
school its people thus? Are souls nothing?"
" My dear," said her aunt, "the world is very bad; but it is its
people who make it so. If parents did their duty better, their
children would be better, the world better.  But neither parents
nor the world are alone to blame. Individuals are equally accountable.  Every man can distinguish right from wrong, and every
woman, too; and if they persist in the wrong, they must abide the
consequences. There are too many who, like Mrs. Jones, having
no other excuse for their moral delinquencies, are only too glad to
attribute them to the world. The world is bad enough, I admit;
but it is the Mrs. Joneses who make it so; and when they
get pushed into a corner, instead of crying over their own follies,
they exclaim,' The world! the world!' All this is very low,
very vulgar, and very silly.  Let individuals do their individual
duties, and the world will get along well enough."
"But, dear aunt, if individuals do rnot do their duty, is it
not our duty to do something for them?"
"There are persons employed by the' world,' as Mrs. Jones
calls it, for that very purpose.  Ministers and colporteurs, for
instance. Thoo we have extensive moral organizations, whose
numerous agents are continually penetrating all classes of society; presses, too, sending forth their Gospel messengers, daily,
to all parts of the earth, to open the eyes of the Mrs. Joneses,
and prevent them from going astray. If, in spite of all these,
they will go headlong to destruction, who is to blame?  The
world?  Certainly not. The world, with all its skeletons, all its
veneered piety, and all its solemn mockeries, does all it can to
prevent it."




152       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"All, aunt?"
"All it can reasonably be expected to-yes."
Miriam hung down her head sorrowfully, like one who was far
from convinced.
Mrs. Townsend observed her, and said"-Do you not agree with me, Mirry?"
"I have a thought which will not let me, dear aunt," said
Miriam.
" What is it?"
Miriam hesitated.
"You will think me over bold, dear aunt!" she said, timidly.
"Nay, my dear, out with it," said Mrs. Townsend, in a kindlier
tone than she had yet used. "It will give me great pleasure to
hear your objections, if they are well founded; and I am sure
you will be equally gratified to have them swept away, if they
emanate from a wrong conception. Say on, Mirry!"
" I was thinking," ventured Miriam, "that the world, for all
its charities, is still in serious error. Of what avail its generous
support of preachers and presses, if it fail to second their efforts?
Precept is but of little moment, if example be not hand in hand
with it. The preacher struggles in vain, and the presses send
forth but dead messengers, if society follow them not up with
its own example."' What would you have society do, Mirry?"
"For its own sake, this:-When it says: We support the
Gospel with our money, let it support it also with its deportment. When it says:.We hear the Gospel every Sabbath, and
believe it, let it act up to its belief, as if it really did believe it.
What kind of righteousness is that which plans a great fraud
on Saturday, goes to church on Sunday, and executes it-the
fraud-on Monday?  Or that which says, I believe in the Lord
Jesus Christ, and yet does the very things which the Saviour
bids him not do?  Or that which says, I believe not in wicked




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              153
ness, and yet associates with, and thereby countenances, wickedness?  Dear aunt, where will all this end."
"Mirry, dear, I fear you have been imbibing some of the
poisonous opinions of Mrs. Jones!"
"Dear aunt, do not say so. I was afraid you- would think me
very bold; but I could not help it. The thought would come.
Poor Mrs. Jones herself made me think of it. It was this
kind of righteousness which encouraged her in her own wrong
views, which she now so mournfully deplores. Say society
had set a better example to her husband, would he now be
fleeing with the money that belongs to his creditors, would his
poor lady be suffering for his error, would society be holding up
its hands in horror at his conduct?  Oh, dear aunt, we must
do something more than we are doing. I almost feel as if it
were my duty to go out into the highway and plead the cause
of Christ!"
"And be laughed at for your enthusiasm, Mirry!"
" I could endure that, if I could only-rescue a single soul from
misery. When I think of poor Mrs. Jones, dear aunt, I am
filled with terror. Say she should not repent-what then? And
yet society is preparing millions every year for an existence
equally as sad and hopeless as hers! And should they never
repent-wHAT then?  Oh, aunt-you are good and wise-you
have position, means, and influence. The world knows your
piety, goodness, and earnestness-and it will listen to you.
Speak to it in some way. Tell it how it is wandering away
itself, and how it is leading astray millions of other hearts who
are governed solely by its example. And I, dear aunt-I will
stand behind you, beside you, or before you, as you may think
best, to second you, in my poor humble way."
And as she spoke, Miriam threw her arms around hr aunt's
neck, and sobbed like a little child.
Mrs. Townsend was moved. She looked down upon the
7*




154      WHICHi: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
simple girl, who was nestling, in all the confidence of innocence,
upon her breast, with a troubled eye.
" And but for a proud, frivolous mother, and a proud, frivolous
world, I too might have been as pure and sinless as this young,
artless heart!" she murmured.  " Oh, mother! if thy spirit be
around me, hear me. Thou might'st have devoted thy daughter
to something higher than society; thou might'st have imbued
her young mind with nobler aspirations than those which centre
upon a hollow world! But, Miriam! thou, at least shalt not be
sacrificed. Worldling as I am, I'll stand faithfully by thee!"
Then clearing her throat, which was husky with emotion, she
said aloud"My darling, we'll think more of this. I agree with you,
that something should and might be done to stir up society from
its worship of skeletons. We will think it over. In the meanwhile, let us turn our attention to this affair of Mrs. Jones. If
we can rescue her from temporal want, that will be a good
point gained. Let us see. Her present necessities must be our
first care. Suppose we can get ten persons to subscribe one
dollar per week each for the next three months-that will be ten
dollars per week —enough, in all conscience, to give her a fair
support, and to enable her to look around for herself. Before
the three months shall have expired, she will either have been
joined by her husband, in which case she will be in no further
need of assistance, or she will have settled upon some plan for
the future."
"All this is very good, dear aunt, only we forget one thing."
"What is that."
"The poor lady's pride. How shall we get her to accept of
the money 2"
"0, we'll easily manage that, my dear," returned  Mrs.
Townsend, with a smile.
Miriam looked at her inquiringly.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THiE LEFT.              155
"There are two ways,". said her aunt. "Through Samuel,
who has a winning method of subduing pride; should he fail,
then through Mrs. Farley, the laundress, who will readily join
our little conspiracy, since it has for its object the doing of good
to one who might otherwise be a burden upon herself. And
we must go about this matter at once, too, Mirry, as I judge,
from what you have told me of the unhappy woman's opinion
of Isabella, that her proud spirit will not let her touch a fraction
of the hundred dollars which your cousin left her: and Mrs.
Jones must therefore be in immediate want."
"No," said Miriam, with a slight glow, " I think not in immediate want-that is, I believe she can get along for a few days,
at least!"
Miriam, in narrating the particulars of her interview with the
fraudulent bankrupt's wife, had modestly omitted to mention,
or even to hint, of her own benevolent act.
Her aunt smiled.'She understood the artless being before
her, and read the secrets of her simple heart as plainly as her
own.
" In that case, my dear," she said, delicately avoiding any allu.
sion to the point which the instinctive modesty of her. niece
shrunk from mentioning, "we shall have ample time to arrange
our plan and carry it into effect. The next consideration is our
business of to-night. Samuel must, of course, accompany us.
But how can we manage it, with Isabella in the way?"
Miriam's face crimsoned. Her aunt, however, affected not to
notice it, and continued"Let me think-let me think. Ah! I have it. I'll fix it all
at tea, and in a manner which will prevent Isabella from entertaining any hard thoughts of you. Yes; I have it. So, set
your'mind at rest, Mirry, and hold yourself in readiness to
accompany us. We will start at seven o'clock."
" Dear, dear aunt —you are so good!"




CHAPTER X.
AT a little later period in the day, that is to say, about two
hours after Miriam had taken her departure, a proud, fiaringly
attired female sailed up the alley leading to the humble apartments of the laundress. She swept into the yard, and looked
around her with an air of mingled hauteur and disgust. Every
feature was alive with uneasiness, every movement with overbearing insolence.
Her wandering exe fell at length upon a little humpbacked
boy, who was sitting in a doorway on the left. He was poorly
but cleanly clad. The complexion of his oval face was of a
faint brown. His mild, brown eyes were large, and full of
thought. His head was supported in his left hand, the elbow
resting on his knee. He regarded the stranger with an abstracted
air, which told that his thoughts were elsewhere.
"Frightful!" exclaimed the female, as she turned her eyes
upon the boy. "The nastiest, dismallest hole I ever saw in my
life. Breeds nothing but dirt, filth, and humpbacked children.
What a shocking place! It's enough to make one sick. Ugh!
It sets me all in a shiver!"
The voice of the speaker was sharp and shrill. It was lost,
however, upon the boy, whose mind was still roaming.
"The thing is a fool!" said the stranger, in her high-keyed
tones. Then drawing nearer to the lad, she added, sharply,
"Don't you hear? A lady is speaking to you!"
Thus appealed to, the boy looked up at the " lady" with his
mild, thoughtful eyes, and said, in a voice which was as soft and
gentle as a girl's-.,    s - nw




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              157
"Did you speak, ma'am?"
":Did I? you ugly, impertinent, brazen little hunchback! Was
there ever such assurance! Is that the way your mother brings
you up? But it's so with all low people. They have no more
idea of decency or politeness than wild beasts!"
The mild, thoughtful eyes of the boy flashed with indignation
at the unfeeling insult. The resentment was but momentary,
however. It fell back, timidly, as it were, to the unhappy soul
from which it had escaped, as if it had not nerve enough to
maintain itself in the presence of another. An instant later,
there appeared, swimming about in those clear, brown, molten
orbs, two wandering spirits: one of solemn sadness, another
of mournful reproach; and both would have told any other
than the cold, frivolous creature before him, that the soul of the
poor timid boy was weeping.
" Why don't you answer me, you saucy imp?" demanded the
woman, in her highest key.
"What shall I say, ma'am?" asked theboy, shrinking back,
as if in dread of a blow from some quarter.
"Where can I find a Mrs. Jones? She lives here somewhere
in this horrid place, don't she?"
"-Mrs. Jones lives up stairs, with my mother," said the boy,
timidly." Then why didn't you say so before, you little wretch! and
not keep a lady in this nasty dirty mud all day." cried the woman, brushing past him and darting up the staircase.
The boy drew back, in alarm, against the wall, as she swept
by; when she had disappeared above, he resumed his seat on the
door-step, bowed his head upon his small, slender knees, and
wept silently. As he sat thus, a gentle hand was laid softly
on his shoulder. He looked up, and beheld his mother, the
laundress, before him.
She had been out for a few minutes, to take home some work.




158      WHICH:: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"What is the matter, Bobby, darling?" said the laundress, in
a troubled voice.
" Oh, mother!" cried the boy, springing to his feet, catching
hold of her frock, as if for protection, and looking up imploringly
in her face, "I want to die. Asksthe Ldr'd to let me die, mother.
They hurt me so here!"
"Who hurts you, dear?" said the laundress, stooping down
and impressing a kiss upon his soft cheek. "Who hurts you,
dear?"
"Everybody," sobbed the boy. "They hit me and call me
names. I cannot bear it. My heart is breaking. Feel," he
said, taking her hand and laying it upon his throbbing breast,
" how it pains. I want to die and go away from here. Mother,
ask the Lord to let me die!"
" Poor dear, poor dear!" said Mrs. Farley, soothingly. "Was
it some wicked boy?"
"No, ma'; a lady —she's gone up stairs —to-see-Mrs.
Jones," cried the child.
"A lady, darling? A lady wouldn't do so!"
"She called me- names!" gulped the boy. "She said I
was an-ugly hunchback, and-and-a little wretch. She did,
mother!"
"' Poor dear-poor dear! She didn't mean it. She didn't
mean it, surely V' said the laundress, struggling with her feelings.
" I cannot help being an ugly little hunchback —can, I mother?
The Lord made me what I am-didn't He, mother?"
"Well, darling?"
"Then why do they call me names and hit me, mother? I
don't hit them-I don't call them names!"
The unhappy laundress could not answer. Her heart was
bleeding for her poor timid boy.
"I can't fight, mother. I can't even bear to hurt a fly. I
haven't the heart. It makes me cry to see another in pain. Then




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               159
what does everybody make fun of me, and hit me, for? Didn't
the Lord make me as well as them?"
"Yes, Bobby, dear."
"But I can't fight, mother, and that is why they hit me and
call me names. They don't hit boys who can fight. There's
Georgy Thompson, he can fight when he's a mind to, and they
don't hit him P"
" Does Georgy Thompson hit you, dear?"
"No, ma'; Georgy's a good boy, and the other boys don't
hit me either when he is by. They dassent. Georgy won't
let'em!"
"Georgy is a good boy —aint he, Bobby?"
" I guess he is! But then, ma', Georgy can't be near me all
the time. I wish he could, and then I wouldn't be afraid."
"And why are you afraid, dear?  Why don't you get brave,
like Georgy Thompson, and then nobody would dare to hit
you?"
" I can't help it, ma'. My heart won't let me. I always ant
afraid. The Lord made me so. I can't help it. And they all
know it, and that's the reason why they hit me, and call me
names."':Poor dear-poor dear!" cried his mother, with an unsuccessful effort to stifle her own sobs.
" And therefore, mna," said the poor boy, imploringly,:" I want
to go away from here.  I want to go and live among the angels,
mother; away up there-in heaven. Ask the Lord if He won't
let me, mother-ask Him to let me die!"
" My child —my child! you'll break my heart!"
"Oh, don't say so, mother. I don't want to do that."
"But if you go away, Bobby, what will become of me?"
"Let us go together, ma'. The Lord will let us both in. Won't
He?"
" Yes, darling. But we must wait till He calls us."




160       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR TiE LEFT.
" But He'll call us now, mother, if you ask Him. Won't He?"
The wretched mother could not answer. She pressed her simple boy to her breast, with indescribable anguish.
"Tell him little Bobby wants to go," whispered the child, as he
twined his small, thin arms aroun d her neck, "tell Him little
Bobby wants to go among the angels, because everybody hurts
him down here, and calls him cruel names. And tell Him you
want to go, too, and then He will let us both in together. And
then we'll see father, mother, and then we'll all be happy once
more!"
The unhappy mother groaned.
"Why do you cry, mother, Wouldn't it make you happy to
see father?  He was a good man, wasn't he?  Don't you remember how he always used to kiss us when he came home
from work, and how he used to take us out a-walking every
summer night, and tell us such pretty things on the way? Oh,
I remember it all, mother-don't you?"
The poor laundress sat down upon the door-step, and taking
the boy in her lap, pressed him, in silence, to her bosom; for the
poor thing could not speak.
"Don't squeeze Bobby so, ma'!  It hurts," said the child.
" How the sun is shining down upon us, now-how very nice
and warm! It would be a bright world to live in," added the
little prattler, "if the boys were only good, and wouldn't hurt
nie, nor call me names. I like to feel the sun upon my breast;
it makes me warm and happy. I like to see it shining on the
grass, and on the flowers, and on the water, and on everything,
mother, because it seems to make them cheerful; and, then, it
makes me cheerful too. Do you remember what father used to
call the sun, mother?"
The poor laundress shook her head. Perhaps she had not
heard hinl.
"He called it God's Eye, mother. He used to say that it saw




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR TaE LEFT.              161
everywhere, and that we ought always to be very careful, because
it was upon us all the time. And I guess it's true, too. It is
upon us all the time; but the boys don't mind it much, do
they? They make fun of me and hit me, all the same as if the
Eye was not looking on at all!"
"Cheer up, darling-don't be afraid, even if they do hurt you.
One day we shall all be Up There, where no one will hurt us
and where the boys-will not hit you nor call you names any
more."
" Oh, that will be nice, won't it, mother?  But will I have to
have the cough before I go?"
"The cough, darling?  What cough?"
"The cough that father had, before they took him away, and
laid him in the ground? Don''t you remember."
" Oh, Bobby, dear-Bobby!" groaned the unhappy mother.
"I do," said the boy, knowingly. "You thought I didn't
notice it, but I did. He had it such a long time! It hung to him
so, I couldn t help it. I used to sit on my low stool in the corner
and watch him.
"I couldn't help him-I was so small then; but I could cry,
and so I used to sit in the corner and cry all alone to myself, as
he coughed. How he did cough, though! Oh, dear!  When
you were away, out washing, he coughed dreadfully. Sometimes
it would almost bend him double. But when God's Eye was on
him, he never coughed so much; and that is why he liked to see
the sun shining through the window. He was always easier
then.
"But he grew thinner and thinner every day; and when you
were out to work, he'd lay with his hands clasped, his eyes turned
up to the ceiling, and his lips moving; telling God how much he
thanked Him for being so good to him, for permitting him to pray
to Him, for making him strong in faith, for blessing him with
His rich mercies, for giving him a good companion in life's




162      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
burden, for crowning him with happiness far beyond his deserts,
and hoping He would be equally good to those he left behind,
when he should be called himself away. I didn't understand
all he said, but I heard all the words, and they became fixed upon
my mind.' One time-don't you remember, mother — God's Eye hadn't
looked out for many days. The sky was cold and gray; and
the air was cold and gray, and it seemed as if the sun would
never shine again. Father lay upon the bed, with his eyes looking for the sun; but there was no sun upon the roofs, no sun
in the air; no sun in all the sky. And then how father coughed,
and shook! I fancied I could hear his bones rattle every time
he coughed.
"Oh, how afraid I was then!
"You were sitting by the bedside, your eye on father's-and
both of you were whiter than the snow which lay then upon the
ground.
"Father was breathing faintly, with his eyes turned anxiously
up at the sky, looking for the sun.
"By-and-bye a white cloud, very small at first, but growing
larger by degrees, gathered high up in the air; the air grew
lighter, too, and milder, and then the gray crept silently away;
then the white cloud broke, and the bright sun came stealing
through: and then I looked on father's face. It was lit up with
a smile, but he himself was gone, and God's Eye was on him as
he went!
"He thought that he wouldn't cough so hard if the sun would
only shine; and when it shone, he died!
"And this is why I ask you, mother, if I must have the cough
before God will let me die 2"
"' Dear Bobby, dear-poor mother's heart is breaking! Don't
talk so, darling!"
"Ah! mother, dear, how white you are-just like the clothes




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               163
there on the lines! And you are shaking, too. Mamma, why do
you shake so?  It's so like me, when I'm afraid."
"My dear, dear boy! come, we'll go up stairs!"
"No, don't mamma!  She is up there —that fine lady who
called me names!"
"Never mind her, darling. We'll go in the other room.
Mamma isn't strong; she wants to lie down, a little while, on
the bed."
And with her poor timid boy in her arms, the agitated mother
staggered up to her litle room, and dropped, weary, and sad, and
faint, upon her humble cot.
Ah! who shall measure the thoughts called up, the anguish
or the sadness, by a single unkind word!
CHAPTER XI.
UPON reaching the landing, the visitor tapped nervously at the
back-room door.
"Come in," said a well-known voice, and in another moment
Mrs. Jones was measuring glances with her eldest sister.
"To what am I indebted for the honor of your presence?"
said the fraudulent bankrupt's wife, waving, with a haughty gesture, her visitor to a chair.'" Heyday, Henrietta!" answered the latter, as she threw herself upon the proffered seat; " how very humble we are in our
gorgeous palace!"
"You are pleased to be facetious, Mrs. De Witt!"




164       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
" Oh —no, madam. I am simply wondering at the magnificence
of this more than royal palace," returned her sister, looking around
the humble apartment with a contemptuous sneer. " Dear
me, what gorgeous furniture! How these superb chairs would
set off my drawing-room! They must have cost a fortune, each.
And this Holland carpet-it flings the most dazzling Wiltons
into the shade-nay, the finest Brussels is but rags to it. And
this imperial parlor-how sumptuous in its magnificence, how
awe-inspiring in its capacity! The President's reception-room is
a very den to it! But what most extorts my admiration is the
meekness of its imperial mistress!"
"She cannot but admire the lady-like accomplishments of her
guest, whose amiable qualities she has never been able to appreciate so well as now!"
"Ah! you are so condescending!" said the visitor. "If there
is anything which delights me more than another, it is to see a
queen, or a princess, or any great lady, put herself upon a level
with her inferiors. It tells so favorably for the ripeness of her
judgment and the simplicity of her heart!"
"They who have the honor of a familiar acquaintance
with Mrs. De Witt, cannot do otherwise than esteem  her!"
sneered Mrs. Jones. "They who know her best, admire her most.
At her own fireside, who so loved? Her husband sighs for
her perpetual presence, as his only source of happiness. Her
children look up to her with an affection which no human tongue
can express. Her servants-it may be said without irreverence
-fairly worship her. In society, who so admired? At her
voice, scandal hides its envenomed head; at her voice, discord,
malice, hatred, change into harmony, guilelessness, and love. At
church, who so devout? who so humble? who so simple in her
guise?  In the circle in which she moves, who so loved?.
Among her own sex, who so popular? Among gentlemen, who so
esteemed?  Whose lips are so full of sweetness, whose presence.




W~HIor: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               165
is felt so sensibly, whose absence more deplored?  So wide is her
fame among men, that they say of her all the way from  New
York to Paris-' She is an angel!'"
The eyes of the visitor glittered.
"You flatter my poor qualities, madam 1" she hissed, rather
than said.
" Nay, that would be impossible! The sweetness of your nature is too evident. It shines in every feature, in every movement —in your very voice, which is so low and musical. So
well established is your reputation, your acquaintance would
regard the report of an unkind word from your lips as a calumny!"
"Dear Mrs. Jones, you overwhelm me! I shall sink beneath
your praises. It is so kind in you, who are so great a lady-you,
who revel in opulence and splendor-you, who occupy so high a
position in the world, to condescend to notice one so humble as
myself!  I shall never forget it —never!"
" I am aware, dear Mrs. De xWitt, of the strength and depth
of your memory!  When misfortune fell upon her who was
simply related to you by a mere sisterly tie, you remembered
instantly that she once imbibed from the same breast from which
you had yourself, when a babe, drawn nourishment, and with your
usual noble impulses, you opened wide your door and asked her
in, to shield her and her little one from  distress; you wiped
away her tears, bade heir -forget her misery, and said:'Dear
one, fear not; thy sister will screen thee from distress; her
purse shall be thy purse, and her home thy home, until
better days come again; strangers shall not know of thy troubles;
and least of all, shalt thou be left to the cold hand of charity!'
Ah! this was so kind in you-so humane, so sisterly, so like
your own noble heart! How the world will love you, when it
hears of it!"
"Really, madam, I fear you are making game of me!"




166      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR TEHE LEFT.
"Oh, impossible!  You must not think so. Your extreme
modesty does both yourself and me a great wrong. The very
rarity of virtues like yours makes our praise of them at once a
duty and a pleasure!"
" I have no doubt of the pleasure you take in it, dear madam
-none at all!"
"You but do me justice, dear Mrs. De Witt!"
"Ah! you great ones of the earth-ye who dwell in palacesye who control the treasures of the earth-can afford to be so
condescending to us, who are so poor-to us, the lowly!"
"We like to encourage modest worth; and when it is so
modest as yours, we like to encourage it very much indeed! It
might pine else, and die unknown: and what a loss that would
be to the world!"
"Ah!" said her elder sister, with a smile, " that reminds me-"
"Indeed!  You have a mind, then! You/! Are people of
your humble nature troubled in that way? What a burden!
How it must annoy you!"
"We have so many burdens-we, the lowly!"
"I had supposed you to be mere gatherers and venders of
rags. And you are really burdened with minds, too 1 My good
woman, what do you do with them?"
"We think, sometimes."
" Really! You amaze me! Yourself, for instance-do you
think?"
"At times!"
"Poor thing! And you look so innocent, too! Who would
dream, from your appearance, that you possessed a mind?  Poor
creature!- I pity you!"
"I have a heart, too!"
"No! What-you! You have eyes, I will admit; for they
are glaring now like a wolf's; and teeth, too —large ones, like




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                167
the tusks of a wild boar. Pray, good woman, do they regard you
as human in the sphere in which you move 2"
"If I have the tusks of a boar, fool!" cried her sister, breaking
out, " beware of them!"
"Ah! poor thing! it threatens; its shrill yell reminds me of
something very amusing!'
"Ah! amusing?"
"Yes, a cracked pipe!"
" Beware-beware!"
" Oh, dear! The bristles on its upper lip are becoming erect;
and the poor thing itself is losing its temper. One may look in
the next moment to hear it yelp like a hungry hound. And it
came here, poor thing, to make us angry; but it has only succeeded in making us smile! Poor thing! it should learn that to
lose its temper is to acknowledge defeat. Pray, good woman, if
you are a woman, don't make such wild faces-you will frighten
my child out of her sleep!"
"Ah! your child " said her sister, with a sinistrous smile.
"A pity it has no father!"
"Oh, its father is safe enough, and near enough.  Take your
your eyes from off her, serpent! She is human."' Dear me, what a pity!" returned the other, in a silken voice
which disturbed the mother.  "Were she not human, she might
feel it less!"
"Thlis is a mere trick to alarm  me!" murmured Mrs. Jones,
whose heart throbbed with fearful violence.  "Yes, a mere trick.
But I'll be on my guard!"
"Poor babe!" continued her sister, as if apostrophizing the
child.  "You little dream of what is in store for you.  And a
smile is on your face, too. Ah! if you only knew how near
you are to —rnisery i"
"Croaker!" cried the agitated mother, " take your basilisk eyes




168       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
from off my child. If you have more venom in your heart than
you can bear, spit it out boldly upon ME!"
"Dear me!" simpered the other, silkenly. "How very imperious! Pride is so admirable a quality, too! Pity it should
have a fall!"
" What mean you?" cried her sister, her lip trembling in spite
of all her efforts. "You mean something. Spit it out!"
"Very proud, indeed! And so your husband is quite safe,
and very near? Dear me! Faith is so very touching, and then
so beautiful-yes, very beautiful!" continued the brutal woman,
enjoying her triumph with satanic delight. "And he will come
back, too, of course? Oh yes, he will come back, with all his
money, which he obtained so honestly-so very honestly! Yes;
he will come back. He means to do so. How good it will be
in him to come back! And you know all about it, too 1 Dear
me dear me!"
Mrs. Jones surveyed her as if she meditated a spring.
"You will shine, doubtless, when he comes back," continued
the pitiless woman. " Ride over us all, like some great queen
who understands both the whip and the reins. And you will ride
with him, too. Dear me! what will become of poor me, then?
I shall be compelled to get down on my knees, and beg for
mercy to my high sister. Ah! that will be a sad time for me!
I think I had better conciliate you now —now, before he comes
back!"
Mrs. Jones was paler than a sheet. She tried to speak, but
could not. It seemed to her as if her lips were riveted together.
A dread of some great calamity crept from her heart, and seated
itself in her eyes.
"If you are a woman," it said, "have the pity of one woman
for another woman!"
But the lips spoke not at all.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               169
"Ah!" said the woman who was not a woman, "you are not
so very certain he will come back; you are not so certain he is
safe or near. Dear me! HIow very condescending an admission, for the imperial mistress of this imperial palace! By-andbye, you will perhaps make another condescension-who knows?
If you would come down, now, to my poor level-what might
happen then 2"
The eyes grew softer by degrees; and the dread looked more
and more imploring.
A cold smile, full of triumph and malignity, lit up the simpering lips of the pitiless woman.
" But I am a detested thing-I," she said, in her chilling, silken
key; "hated by all, and-told so; a fright, a shrew, a vixen, a
scandal-monger; have eyes like a wolf's, teeth like the tusks of
a boar, and my smile is enough to frighten infants from their
slumbers! How very flattering!"
The dread looked out fromn its blue windows, and said, "I take
back every word —every one!"
And the lips broke, with a fierce struggle, their rivets, gurgled
out one word, and then broke off suddenly, as if they had said
their last, and would never speak more" Mercy —"
There was a trembling in the body; the hands met, clasped,
and stretched out imploringly.
And then the entire body sank, as if forced down by some
powerful but invisible will.
Mrs. Jones was upon her knees!
" Dear me, how interesting!" said her sister, with a silken'hem! " Our great lady makes another condescension. She
asks a favor of poor humble me-of the fright, of the wolf's
eyes-of the wild boar's tusks. Who would have thought it?
And she looks penitent, too-very penitent!  Dear me! I'll




170     WHICH: THFE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
warrant, now, she thinks me almost human-almost a member
of the human species!"
The dread repeated its appeal.
The lips strove to second it; but could not. They were riveted again.
But the outstretched arms trembled, and the body shook as if
laboring with a chill.
The cold woman enjoyed her triumph like a wild beast at a
banquet of bleeding flesh.
Then, concentrating all her venom. into as few words as she
could, she said, in the same icy key"Does my lady want advice? She shall have it. Let her
change her name; let her put her child out to board, since it is
too young to be put out to work; then let her go to some
Southern city, and set up a school, or, what might perhaps be
better, turn governess. That is my advice.
"Does my lady want money? She shall have it. Here are
five dollars. When they are gone, let her write or send for
more to the'fright,' and she shall have it.
" Does she want news?  She shall have it. Her husband
will not come back. He has fled to Europe. He took the
steamer at Boston, where he was met by a paramour-the wife
of Mr. Clarke, the hardware dealer-a member of his own church
-an old acquaintance of my lady, I believe. He has eloped
with Mrs. Clarke-they are now on their way to England-and
the Rhine. He will NOT come back!"
The cold woman turned upon her heel-the door behind her
opened and closed-and the cold woman was gone.
But she left another cold woman behind her-senseless on the
floor.




CHAPTER X  I
DUSK came. The family of the dry goods jobber were as
sembled at tea, which was nearly over.
" My dear," said Mrs. Townsend, as she filled her husband's
third cup of steaming souchong, "I have a call to make this
evening. How do you feel?"
"Very lazy and very tired," returned her husband, laughing.
"Do let me off, and I remain yours most devoted and in debt,
for a new dress, or anything else you may think a fair equivalent,
John P. Townsend!"
"How very gallant!" returned his wife, with a charming pout.
Then glancing at Samuel, she said, " How do you feel, Samuel?
For I am determined to have a beau!"
"Very like gallanting a fair lady," answered Samuel, "providing she will accept of my company."
"Which she will do with great pleasure and many thanks,"
said Mrs. Townsend. "And now I think of it," she added, "it
will not do for me, a married woman, to be seen walking out
alone with a young man. Due regard must be had for appear
ances. I must positively have a lady companion!"
"Oh, by all means, aunt! Appearances are everything in
such cases," cried Isabella, who hoped to be the favored one.
"I agree with Isabella," said Mr. Townsend, " particularly in
the present case. Who knows? I might wake up in the morning wifeless. And now I think of it, the steamer for Europe sails
in the morning. I decline to run the risk. I insist, Mrs. Towns(1ii)




172      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
end, that you take one of my nieces with you. We business
men have a weakness-we like securities."
"Barbarous man!" exclaimed Mrs. Townsend.. "Have you
no pity 2"
"Security, madam-security. When I lend ny money, I like
to know what I shall have to fall upon in case it fail to reappear,
in due season. And when I intrust my wife to another, who is
of far more value to me than all my money, should I be less
cautious? Security, madam-security!"
"Cruel man!" pouted his wife. "Who will be my security?
Will you, Mirry."
"If guardy will consider me sufficient!" replied Miriam,
timidly.
"What say you, barbarous man?  Is Miss Selden'good'
enough in your judgment 2"
"Abundantly so," returned the merchant. "Miss Selden is
perfectly'good.' What say you, miss?  I prefer direct replies
not intermediate ones. Will you be answerable for Mrs. Townsend's safety with this young gentleman?  Will you be responsible to me, her liege lord and master, that she shall not follow
in the footsteps of her illustrious predecessors, by taking the first
steamer for Europe with this gentleman, and thereby subject me
to irreparable loss?  Answer; and let your answer be in conformity with the provisions of the Revised Statutes of the State
of New York, and all other enactments made and provided for
the better security of John P. Townsend, himself, his heirs, administrators, and assigns."'I will," said Miriam.
"Enough. All right. Go ahead, and Isabella and I will stay
at home and make ourselves as miserable as possible."
Isabella smiled, and-quietly bit her lip.
"Will you be gone long, aunt 3" she inquired.
"Ah! my dear, do not ask me! Look at my eyes, and tell




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              173
me if you ever saw me look more miserable. To think that my
own dear, cruel husband would not trust me on my own responsiblity with so respectable a gentleman as our dear friend here.
I shall never get over the humiliation!"
"Take comfort, madam," said Isabella.  "You are not alone
in misery!"
" Good!" thought her uncle. " That last sentence was designed
for Samuel! She dies hard!"
"Ah!" said Mrs. Townsend, rising, and shaking her small
plump fore-finger at her husband, "you are a naughty, cruel,
hard-hearted man. I shall never forgive you-never!"
"Don't say that, my dear. You will kill me. The bare
thought of the extraordinary risk which I am running makes me
tremble, and even now I have a great notion to demand a second
security."
" Ah! Then it is high time I look to myself. Come, MirrySamuel-aid me. Let us fly. I am in danger!"
Ten minutes later, the trio were on their way to Mrs. Farley's.
Isabella saw them depart with a troubled eye.
"Shall we talk, my dear, or read?" asked her uncle.
"Oh, just as you please, guardy.  I am not particular," said
Isabella, throwing herself on the sofa.
"Then I will read," said Mr. Townsend.  "To tell the truth,
I am absolutely worn out. I have had a hard day of it, and a
little reading will do me good."  Then he added to himself" Fire and fury are in her heart, if the pattering of her little foot
means anything!"
And he picked up an evening paper, and appeared in a few
moments to be perfectly absorbed in its leader. An occasional
sly glance at his niece, however, indicated that his thoughts were
not wholly taken up by the article, and that under his grave exterior he was quietly enjoying a very amusing comedy.
Isabella was evidently ill at ease. She looked like one sitting




174      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
upon thorns. Her eyes were turned towards the opposite side of
tlie drawing-room with an expression of intense thought.  An
occasional spasmodic twitching of her ruby lip, the perpetual
pattering of her foot upon the carpet, and the high color in her
cheeks, represented the condition of her feelings.
"Her blood is up. There will be fun presently!" mused her
uncle.
In a few minutes, Isabella rose, and approaching the centretable, she caught up a magazine, and ran her eyes through its
pages.
"Bravo!" thought the merchant, silently regarding her. "' She
runs from  the prose to the poetry, and from the poetry to the
prose, as if they were one continuous subject. It is better than
a play!"
The magazine was soon dropped, and a book picked up.
Her uncle glanced at her slily.'Well, I shall burst!" he muttered.  " She is reading with
her whole mind, and with the page upside down!"
The book was not long in following the fate of the magazine.
" What next 2" mused the merchant.  "The magazine again,
as I live!"
It was true; btt the young lady was now examining the
plates.
A few moments, and the magazine was lying beside the book.
The young lady now took out her watch, glanced at it impatiently, and then put it back, accompanying the movement with
a long-drawn sigh.
She looked at her uncle, who was apparently very deeply engaged upon the money article of his newspaper.
Isabella took up the book again, opened it, and laying it upon
the table, made a furious attack upon the middle of a chapter.
She maintained her share of the combat bravely for nearly
twenty minutes; but owing to some inexplicable cause, she did




WtaiICH:  THE RIGHT, OR THE: LEFT.             175
not get beyond the third line, at which she hung with a tenacity
which spoke volumes for her will. In the end, however, she
drew off from the contest, and returned to the magazine, which
she also abandoned a few minutes later.
"Jealousy wakes up a woman wonderfully," mused the merchant. " IHere is a living example of its efficacy. Never before
have I seen my fair friend so thoroughly aroused. She is always
wanting a sensation; and now her wish is gratified.  I shall be
lucky if I escape a broken head —for she begins to look dangerous.  If Samuel could but see her now, and read her as I do!"
Miss Landon was leaning back in her chair, and regarding the
obstinate book, and equally obstinate magazine, with a fierce
eye.
"She is meditating vengeance against somebody!" thought her
uncle.  " And Jane tells me that she left Mrs. Jones a hundred
dollars, too.  Money thrown away, for Samuel, with all his simplicity, is certainly not fool enough to let himself be caught by
this tartar!"
Isabella drew off from the book and magazine, and approaching the piano, ran her fingers over the keys.  T'he sounds
which followed appeared to rouse her partially from  her abstraction. She selected a sheet of music, and then seated herself
before the instrument, as if bent upon driving away the nervous
impatience of her mind.
Her uncle watched her attentively and in silence.
Isabella struck the keys to a soft, plaintive melody, but broke
down ere she reached the second stanza.
"I thought so!" mused the merchant.  " Her spirit is up, and
has no sympathy with a tranquillizing air like that. Now what is
she doing?"
A very simple thing-throwing the music sheet upon the
floor!
"Bravo!  There's seventy-five cents treated. with indignity,




176      W HICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
without saying anything of the insult to the unfortunate coin
poser! I shall burst directly!"
Isabella again struck the keys. This time it was with a bold
yet delicate finger. Ier air, manner, eye-everything, indicated
that her mind was under the influence of an inspiration.
Her uncle regarded her with mingled amusement and surprise.
" Her genius is speaking," he observed mentally. " Her mettle
is up, and now for a whole opera, extempore. Oh, for some one
to take it down!"
He guessed correctly. The composition which followed was
Isabella's own. It was the conception of a mind in its highest
state of feeling.
The merchant listened: it was to a romance.
-A mild, pleasant strain rose softly in the air.
A shepherd youth, a perfect Apollo in beauty, is sitting on a
hill and charming his flock with the melody of his pipe. It is a
bright, sunny day, and far away before the player stretches a
landscape of surpassing beauty.
A young, noble, and high-born lady, accompanied by a single
attendant, appears at the top of the hill. The lady is dressed as
becomes her rank. She carries in her right hand a bow, at her
back a quiver containing a few arrows. Of all her companions
in the chase, her favorite attendant-who is one or two years
younger than herself-alone remains; the rest are scattered, lost,
and the lady and her companion are seeking their way back to
the castle.
They see the shepherd, and approach him: partly out of curiosity, and partly for information of the nearest and best route to
the castle.
As they draw near him, they are surprised at the touching
pathos of the melody which issues from his pipe. The tenderness of the air, and the skilfulness with which it is performed, tell




WuICri: THE RIGHT, OR THE' LEFT.              177
the listeners that the player, notwithstanding his rustic garb and
the humbleness of his occupation, is a youth of deep feeling and
rare talent.
The lady, of a bolder nature than her attendant, is the first to
face the shepherd, who regards her with surprise.
The suddenness of her appearance, the richness of her dress,
and the magnificence of her beauty, amaze him, bewilder him,
stupefy him.
On her side, the lady is startled at the noble beauty of the
shepherd, at the commanding grandeur of his air, at the pleasing
tone of his strikingly handsome features, at the faultless symmetry of his form.
She speaks to him, and when he replies, the lady discovers
that the music of his voice is richer than the melting melody of
his pipe.
The lady's heart is lost. It is in the keeping of the handsome
shepherd youth, whose simple mind never dreams of the rich
conquest he has made.
At this moment the humble attendant draws nigh. As the
rich brown eye of the youth falls upon her, his countenance
lights up with a smile, which the lady mistakenly imputes to
derision at the contrast between her own dazzling loveliness and
the simpler beauty of her attendant.
The lady endeavors to acquaint the shepherd with the happy
impression which his beauty has stamped upon her heart; but
the simplicity of his nature prevents him  from  understanding
her.
The lady is in distress, in torture, because she cannot tell him
bluntly that she loves him, without overstepping the bounds of
delicacy, without sacrificing the modesty of a proud and virtuous maiden.
She leaves him, and returns, with her attendant, to the castle,
where she is besieged daily by hosts of high and noble suitors,




178      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
who vie with each other for the honor of her love and her hand.
But she turns a deaf ear to their entreaties, because her affections are fixed upon the humble shepherd of the hill.
She visits him again and again-always accompanied by her
attendant-and invariably leaves him with a breaking heart,
because his simple mind will not understand that the rich, highborn lady loves him, and wishes to  make him  her liege
lord.
One day the lady desires to go and see her shepherd love, as
usual, and sends a summons to her favorite attendant; but the
latter is not in her apartment, nor yet in the castle.' The lady
is surprised, indignant, and waits awhile for her return.  An
hour passes; the girl is still absent; ind, with a sigh, the lady
sets out alone.
As she reaches the foot of the hill, a sight greets her which
palsies her very soul.
Her attendant-the recreant runaway-the great absent!-is
seated on a stone, looking tenderly down upon the handsome
shepherd, who is kneeling at her feet!
The faithless jade!
The artful creature! to have the temerity to enter the lists
for the shepherd's love with her own mistress! Her own mistress, who had heaped upon her so many millions of favors!
Who had giver her money, old clothes, and one or two of her
own embroidered handkerchiefs!
The deceitful, ungrateful thing!The tempest around the piano, at this moment, was perfectly
dreadful.
Mr. Townsend was looking every moment for a thunderbolta loud crash-and a general wreck, which would carry off Isabella,
himself, the house, and all, to some dark, unknown waste, where
the eye could see nothing, and where the ear could hear naught
but a deafening roar of black pitching waters, which were swaal



WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               179
lowing up and burying everything and everybody in their stern,
unfathomable depths.
But, happily for Mr. Townsend, his niece, his furniture, and his
house, this catastrophe did not come to pass.
The drawing-roomrn stood firm, notwithstanding the stormy
threatenings of the piano. The sofa maintained its usual gravity;
the centre-table, its tranquillity; the chairs, their stolidity; the
portraits on the walls, their usual serenity. Even the three little
statuettes on the mantel did not appear to be afraid, the least bit.
The merchant's pleasant face was streaming with tears-of
suppressed laughter. To say that he enjoyed the romance of
Isabella, or rather of the piano, would but faintly convey the
fact-he revelled in it. If he did not shake himself to pieces with
merriment, it was because his constitution was more than equal
to the demands made upon it by his risibilities.
The tempest, which indicated the wild rage of the high-born
lady upon discovering the " shocking treachery" of her attendant,
at length lullk, and the romance continued.
— The lady could scarcely believe her eyes; but finding that
what they told her was only too true, viz.-that her artful
attendant had, somehow, won the affections of the handsome
shepherd, who was now entreating her to make him happy by.becoming his wife-the rage of the great lady could scarcely be
restrained. She looked around her for a weapon with which to
smite the faithless thing, who had dared to step in between herself and the object of her affections. She could find nothing,
however, which would answer her purpose, and, burning with
wrath, she hurried back to the castle, and procured a stout whip,
with which she returned to the hill —just in time to witness the
lovers sealing their matrimonial pledge with a rapturous kiss.
The high-born lady boiled with jealous madness.  She advanced upon the pair with her uplifted whip, the lash of which
descended in another instant upon the faithless attendant's back;




180      WHICN: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
The lovers started; the attendant caught her indignant lady's
eye, screamed, and, with a blush at her own treachery, turned
and fled-hotly pursued by the whip, which, guided by the hand
of the high-born lady, fell, every instant, upon her shoulders.
Up and over the hill, into a valley-from  the valley to a wood
-from the wood to a hill-up the hill to a mountain —down the
mountain to a vale-through the vale to the sea, into which the
maiden plunged, with a despairing moan-the indignant whip
lashing her, and marking her, and tearing her, all the way. —
The racket of the piano during the chase was perfectly terrifying.'Mr. Townsend bore it with all the resignation of a martyr,
flattering himself that the wildest hurricane, like everything else,
must come, in time, to an end.
Nor was he wrong.
The chase once over, the deceitful attendant once in the sea,
the tumultuous roar changed instantly into a new version of " See,
the Conquering. Hero Comes!" amid the stirring strains of which,
the high-born lady returned to the handsome shepherd, to whom
she exposed the shameless perfidy of the artful attendant, breathed
out to him her own legitimate love, and then marched him off in
triumph to the castle, where they were immediately made one,
and where they spent the remainder of their days in uninterrupted
happiness.
"A marvellous composition." muttered the merchant, with
a derisive smile. "It is worthy the frivolous intellect of its
frivolous composer. Her glorious genius has labored, and this
silly rubbish is the result. The mountain is safely delivered of
— a mouse. Samuel is right —mere worldlings cannot produce
aught worthy the attention of a noble mind. Great thoughts
spring only from earnest spirits, intent upon great moral aims.
Really, I am ashamed of my handsome but frivolous niece.
Her mental capacity enables her to shine in —puerilities. But




WH1CH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               181
let us look at her romance. Samuel is, of course, the handsome
shepherd; Miriam the attendant; herself the high-born lady;
her own fortune the castle; Brigham and her other admirers
the host of knightly suitors; and the whip simply an expression
of her determination to maintain her own claims to the handsome shepherd, at all hazards. Umph! we'll see about that.
And now for a small morsel of fun, mi lady!"
With these thoughts, the merchant rose from his easy-chair
and approached the piano.
"Bravo,'Bel-bravo!" he cried, clapping his hands.  "A
magnificent composition —more brilliant than'Norma,' more
inspiring than' I Puritani.' I haven't enjoyed myself se much
in-I don't know how long. I had no idea you had such a genius
for-this sort of thing. Dear me! if Mr. Brigham had only
been here-or Samuel —how they would have been amused!"
" Mr. Brighanl, indeed!" returned Isabella, in disdain.
"Oh, I see!" said her uncle, with a sly leer. "It isn't Mr.
Brigham  any more-eh? It's another gentleman-eh?  It's a
certain handsome youth, whose given name begins with an S,
and ends with an L. Oh, you little flirt! Poor Brigham will
hang himself, and the coroner's inquest will be-' Died of-Miss
Landon!"'
"Mr. Brigham is at full liberty to die whenever it shall please
him!" returned Isabella, petulantly. " As for myself, I am rich
enough to like and dislike whom I please, and I feel strong
enough to insist upon my rights."
" Very true, my dear-you are both rich and strong; and, as
I rejoice to discover, full of spirit, too-very full. And that is
what puzzles me."
"I do not understand you, uncle!"
"Oh, you little vixen! How innocent we are! How very
innocent!"
"What do you mean, uncle t"




182      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Oh, of course. That's it. What do we mean?  Oh, yes.
Certainly.  Of course. We don't mean anything.  Oh, nonothing. Certainly not. Nothing at all. 0, you flirt!"
" Really, uncle, I don't see anything so very amusing. What
are you laughing at?"
"Laughing, my dear? Are we laughing?  We?  It cannot
be. It is all a mistake. We are only rejoicing."
" But what at, uncle."
" Because we have got a new B. E. A. U. —beau, —and we are
rejoicing because we are so sure of him, that we dare to trust
him, for a little while, with another!"
"Now, guardy," said Isabella, "you are certainly telling tales
out of school! I shall be very angry with you, if you go on so.
I don't like it!" she added, meaningly.
" Ah! well, then, we won't say any more about it. But I
had thought that a girl of our spirit wouldn't stand any such nonsense. What! sit at home, while our beau goes out with
another! Who ever heard of such a thing! Did you ever?
No, I never. And when he comes back, won't we teach him
who he is, who we are, and what we don't mean to be? Oh, no.
Of course not. We haven't got any spirit —not the least mitenone at all. And, as for her —the saucy minx! —we won't pull
her ears, nor tear her clothes, nor scratch her eyes out, and a
few other amiable things, just.to show her who she is. Oh, no;
not by alliy means. We are very humble, we are; and we
yield to our rivals, without lifting even a finger in self-defence!
Yes, we sit at home very humbly, and see our beau taken away
before our very eyes.  And when they go away, we take it very
coolly. We read books and magazines very carefully and very
tranquilly. We play the piano and improvise whole operas.
We never dream  at all of giving the false one an ice-cream
on his return, nor our rival brimstone for the coming week.
Not at all. We are so humble!"




WHICH; THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               183
"Now, guardy," said Isabella, who blushed at finding her
very thoughts so well understood, " do give over this nonsense,
and I'll sing you anything you please."
"A bargain,'Bel. And now, let me see. What shall it be 2"
"Your favorite-' My Native Land?'" suggested Isabella.
" No, that's too patriotic for the present occasion."
"' Love not'."
"Too sentimental!"
"'The Physician and the Dancing-Master?'"
"Entirely too humorous. No; give us something grand, something solemn, something inspiring. Ah! I have it. Let it be
that anthem which you sung last night with Samuel!"
Isabella sprang to her feet like a lioness. Her cheeks were
crimsoned; her lips trembled; her eyes flashed.
" Uncle-"
"Well, mi lady?"
"You —you are a brute!"' Oh, my precious darling-"
But the young lady was gone before he could complete the
sentence.
The merchant smiled.
"She is off to her room; and now look out for broken chairs
and smashed crockery!" he muttered, laughing till his sides
ached. " Well," he added, as he returned to his easy-chair, " I've
taught her a quiet lesson-one she will remember.  In future,
she will let poor Miriam alone, or I am wide of my reckoning!
Now that she knows she is understood, she will not show her
hand quite so openly. There is nothing like a little tact in these
matters-nothing like a little tact!"
And the merchant resumed his paper, and examined its contents attentively for the first time.
In the meanwhile, Isabella, hot with passion, hurried to her
chamber. She lit the gas-burner and taking up a book, threw




184     VWHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
herself into a chair and made a serious effort to read herself into
tranquillity. But the attempt proved abortive, and the book
was thrown aside. Her temples were hot, and throbbing as if
they would burst. She rose, and approached the wash-stand,
to cool her burning brow. Her movements were quick, energetic, and full of passion. She snatched up the water-pitcher;
but the suddenness, or rather the violence of the motion, caused
the vessel to strike against the basin with a force which shattered
it in pieces. Isabella, with a passionate cry, threw the handle
upon the floor; then ringing, or rather jerking the bell, she paced
the room in a state of irritation bordering upon madness.
A few minutes, and her maid appeared.
"Water-and take these things away.  Quick, and no
remarks!" said'Isabella, in a tone which caused the girl to comprehend the propriety of dispatch.
"Marry, come up!" said the maid, as she descended to the
kitchen. "I guess somebody is in her tantrums to-night!"
The fit, however, did not apparently last long. For when the
maid returned with a fresh pitcher, she found her mistress somewhat more composed. And the next morning, and indeed for
nearly a week afterwards, the domestics observed significantly
to each other, that Miss Isabella was as " nice as pie!"




C HAPT ER XIII.
BUT we must not forget our three friends, whom we left on
their way to Lawrence street.
" Where are we going 3" asked Samuel, as they turned into
Broadway.'"To Mrs. Jones's," said Mrs. Townsend, who had possession
of his left arm.  "Miriam was down to see her this morning,
and found her in so very distressing a, state, that she promised to
bring me to her this evening."
"Oh, I am very happy to hear that!" said the young man.
" To hear what, Samuel." asked Mrs. Townsend, looking up at
him in surprise. " That Mrs. Jones is in distress 2"
" No-you could not think that. But to learn that Miss Selden has been to see the poor lady."
"Why, Samuel, is there anything strange in that."
"No; of course not. But still it is a very great relief to me
to learn it. I had done Miss Selden serious injustice, which I
take this occasion to confess, and to entreat her pardon!"
Miriam attempted to speak, but her agitation prevented her.
"What have you reference to 3" asked Mrs. Townsend.
"I had the impression," answered Samuel, 1" that Miss Selden
listened with a cold ear to my statement of the unhappy condition of Mrs. Jones; and the idea gave me great pain. And then,
too, her apparent indifference to a fellow-creature's misery contrasted so strongly with Miss Landon's noble readiness and generosity, that I could scarcely credit it.  For a time it shook my
faith in one whom I had learned to love like a sister.  I cannot
(186)




186       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR TEE LEFT.
express the grief which it gave me through the night. It disturbed me even in my dreams. You will understand this better," he continued, turning to Miriam, "when I mention that,
when thinking of you, I have often said to myself:' Had I been
blessed with a sister, she would be like Miriam, good as Miriam,
gentle as Miriam, pure, benevolent and kind as Miriam.' But I
see now how wrongfully I misjudged you; and I sincerely entreat your pardon!"
Miriam -bowed the forgiveness which she could not speak. Her
heart, to use a vulgar but forcible expression, was in her throat.
She was very pale; but fortunately for her feelings, it was not
observed by him upon whose arm she now leaned so heavily for
support.
Her aunt, who intuitively comprehended the condition of her
feelings, stepped forward at once to her relief.
"Oh, Samuel," she said, "you don't know Miriam.  She
makes no parade of her sympathies or of her benevolence. She
is one of the few who go about doing good in silence."
" Dear aunt-" interrupted Miriam, imploringly.
" Nay, my dear," interrupted Mrs. Townsend, "I do not wish
to invade your delicacy, nor can I suffer Samuel to labor under
a misapprehension concerning one I love. I must add, Samuel,
that your first impression of Miriam was correct; your second
one, wrong."
"' Ah, madam," replied Samuel, "you cannot conceive how
happy it makes me to hear you say so. For, indeed, my second
impression made me very sad!"
"I do believe the handsome fellow loves her without suspecting it!" muttered Mrs. Townsend to herself. "But, dear me 
his simplicity and frankness are making sad havac with poor
Mirry's feelings.  Poor thing!" she continued, stealing a glance
at her niece, "she is as pale as death. I must change the topic,




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                187
and right speedily. How very stupid in me not to have ordered
the carriage!"
"I am glad to hear you confess your error so ingenuously,
Samuel," she said, aloud.
" I bould not do less," returned the young man, " even to an
enemy, let alone to one whom, since my residence under your roof,
I have held in so much esteem."
" Poor Miriam!" mutterd Mrs. Townsend to herself. " There's
balm for you! Your dreams to-night will be pleasanter than
your last, or I know nothing of your young heart!"
Then changing the topic, she said aloud"We want your attention this evening, Samuel, to Mrs.
Jones's case. The poor lady," she added, with a sigh, " is in distress concerning her soul."
"Ah!" cried Samuel, in a tone of delight, " that is glorious
news.  It makes me very happy!"
"Happy, Samuel." said Mrs. Townsend, in surprise.
"Dear madam —can you ask-you, one of us? What sound
more joyful to the Christian's ear than the sinner's cry for
mercy   unless, indeed, it be the transporting burst which
announces the consciousness of forgiveness? Oh, that is glorious
indeed!'
Mrs. Townsend was silent for a few moments. Wild thoughts
were-in her brain-a deep pang in her heart. The noble simplicity, the Christian grandeur of the being upon whose arm she
leant, the purity of his spirit, the moral sublimity of his sentiments, which were so common and so false in her and all with
whom she associated, and so true and natural in him, touched
the better part of her nature, and filled her breast with sensations and her mind with thoughts which were new to her. Ah!
little dreamed the two pure hearts with whom she was walking
of the agony of that soul which was now suffering with its first
spiritual remorse!




188      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"But how did this good thing come about?" asked Samuel.
"I saw Mrs. Jones last evening, but there were no indications
of that nature then. I made an effort to lead her thoughts to
the subject, but it was attended with no perceptible success. In
fact, the lady frowned upon the attempt, and seemed to regard it
in the light of an insult. And now you tell me that she is, after
all, in contrition before our King and Prince. 0, what joywhat glory! How very good the Lord is!"
" Pure, innocent heart!" murmured Mrs. Townsend.  "And
to this simplicity, this unalloyed pleasure, this serenity of soul,
Faith brings its followers! What a world of happiness I have
lost!-and for what? Lord, help me-Lord, help me!"'This veteran in the littlenesss, the deceitfulness, the emptiness
of the world, was experiencing the solid joy which glides slowly,
gradually, and almost imperceptibly, into the heart of the worldling, when in the company of the pure. She was conscious of
the moral atmosphere which the presence of her two guileless companions threw  around her.  The sensation was a
novel one; it touched the better part of her nature, leaving the
baser to undisturbed repose. It was to her like the discovery of
a new happiness, a new delight-a holy joy.  And yet, she was
at the same time conscious that it was a feeling which could
not last; she felt that she had no legitimate claim to it. It was
a happiness which only belonged of right to the legitimate children of God, of which she WAS NOT ONE. With them  it was
permanent; with them, a perpetual presence. With her, a pleasure that would depart when they departed; a joy that would
disappear with their " good-night," for it belonged only to themselves and those of their kind, and she could only participate in
it when in the atmosphere which their presence hallowed.
As she thought of all this, the worldly woman felt as feels a
poor ragged child when looking through the open halls of a rich
mansion filled with happy children-only the rich mansion she




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              189
was looking in upon was heaven, and the happy children the
Redeemed.
Mrs. Townsend was recalled from her reflections by Samuel,
who repeated his interrogatory"Are you aware how this good thing came about?"
"I think," said lrs. Townsend, "that Miriam  knows something about it. She spoke to the lady this morning on the subject, in her own peculiar way."
"' Ah! good!" cried Samuel. "It makes me very happy to
hear this-happy to hear that the lady is in tribulation, and
happy to hear that our dear friend has been the favored instrument of leading her to repentance."
Miriam trembled, but it was with joy.  Her eyes, which were
modestly cast down, gleamed with indescribable pleasure.
" It is well we are not heard by the passers-by," observed Mrs.
Townsend, with assumed playfulness. "They would deem it
strange to hear you, Samuel, rejoicing over another's tribulation."
" Ah! dear madam, the tribulation of the SOUL?  A joyful
thing! Because it tells of another pilgrim on the threshold of
of His mansion! But, Miss Selden, what is your'peculiar' way
of touching the heart, that our dear friend speaks of?. It must
be worth knowing, since it has proven so successful. I ask because
I sometimes find it very difficult to zonvince minds of the ease
with which they can find joy, if they will!"
"I suspect, Samuel," said Mrs. Townsend, coming up gener.ously to the rescue of her niece, whom this question somewhat
disconcerted, "that it was owing in part to the fact that she first
nobly put the lady's mind at ease concerning temporal want-"
" O, dear aunt!" interrupted Miriam, " how can you-"
"Why, my dear," continued Mrs. Townsend, " I see no harm
in telling the truth. And I am sure Samuel would rather hear
that, than labbir under a wrong impression."




190       VWHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"You but do me justice, dear madam," said Samuel.  "I
suspected that Miss Selden's visit was not confined to spiritual
good alone. There is something noble in that piety which walks
hand in hand with benevolence. Ah! that is true piety! Happy
they who have the heart to feel and the hand to give in the same
moment. They are the real rich."
"And do you never sigh for wealth, Samuel?" asked Mrs.
Townsend.
"Yes," answered Samuel, in a tone which wairnwed up the
heart of the questioner; " yes, when I go among my poor friends
-when I see them suffering, and many of them do suffer, my
dear madam!-and myself without means to relieve them. Then,
my heart is sometimes set on money in a strange way! Then
I yearn for some of the riches of the earth. Then I am sometimes tempted to murmur at my poverty!
" There is a wondrous joy in wealth. It will relieve so much
want, banish so much affliction, dry so many tears
"Ah! could you but go with me to the haunts of the poor
and lowly, and see how much happiness a solitary dollar will
create in hearts that have no dollars 
"Could you but go with lice to the cell-like room which serves
at once for parlor, kitchen, and bed-chamber fbr a family of four
or five —its head lying down on a thin couch of straw, in a
corner, helpless with suffering, and only able to assist his family
with his sighs, his tears, and his prayers-helpless with consumption, with rheumatism, or some other pitiless disease-his
pale wife wasting away over the needle or the wash-tubwasting away with penury, which all her energies can scarce keep
from the door; wasting away with grief for the sufferings of
her beloved, the. stricken one, in the corner; wasting away with
anguish at the sight of the lean, wan little ones, whose sole de
pendence is in her alone for bread; wasting away with iron toil
which has already worn her thinner than the stricken one on the




WT IICHi:   THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.           191
straw; wasting  away with that consuming fire which enters the
heart of every mother when she sees her little ones pale and
feeble with hunger, and mutely imploring her for bread, which
she has not to give them; wasting away with that corroding
anguish which enters the heart of every woman when she sees
the manly form on which her eye rested brightest in the summer
hours of her youth, now prostrate in a corner, held down by
want and disease, with scarce enough left of courage to reward
her devotedness with a smile-to see that eye which beamed once
upon her in all its pure affection, all its loving pride, bright now
only with the intensity of bodily suffering and of mental anguishto see the lip that once spoke to her young heart of a golden voyage
over life's broad ocean, now thinned with want and quivering with
pain-to see him who was once the one-thought of her girlish
heart-him  the first, the only winner of her young love, lying
there before her, helpless, broken in spirit and in body-and she
the faithful, the fond, the patient, the industrious, the devoted,
with but little to help, to save him-dreading every day the
coming morrow, lest she herself should wear out, and her love
and her loved ones be left all alone:-could you but see, with
me, the joy of that stricken man, the delight of his patient, and
equally suffering mate, the hope which lights up the faces of the
little ones at sight of a solitary dollar kindly given-you would
yearn, as I do, were you in mny place, for a little of that wealth
which can make so many poor hearts glad!
"Could you but go with me to the lone chambers of the
stricken poor, and listen to their plaintive sighs, to their touching
tales of bodily suffering, you would sink with grief and sympathy. For the poor things have each their little story, and they
are all of the same sad burden-want and misery.  They have
their little bills at the grocer's to pay, before they can get trusted
for any more; and rheumatism-that eternal worrier of the
poor-has them in its fangs.'Could they but pay up those little
bills of the grocer's and of the apothecary's, they would get




192      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
along well enough.' Yes,'then they would feel more encouraged,
then they could get a little nrore credit, and a little more medicine, and then they would feel braver, and, in time, they would
get well enough to rise up and go to work, and so glide out of
debt altogether.' If you could only see what a single dollar will
do amohig hearts like these; how it will make the wan woman
smile, and the feeble man strong; how it will put fresh courage
into breasts whom want and suffering have cowed down; how it
will make a faint, despairing eye brighten up with hope, and
an unnerved lip exclaim,' Yes, I am better, now-I feel that I
can bear my torments easier, now; yes, I am much cheerfuller
now; yes, the Lord is very good to me, now' —you would not
marvel that I sometimes pine for a little of that wealth which
will send joy to so many suffering hearts!"
"  had no idea of the existence of such poverty," remarked
Mrs. Townsend, as Samuel concluded. "Did you, Mirry?"
"I have witnessed some of it, aunt," returned Miriam,
timidly.
"And you never mentioned it to me? And you have selfishly
monopolized the relieving of it? Why," she added, a moment later, "what a flood of light is bursting upon me-what
new world is this which you are opening to me? Miriam —"
" Dear aunt —"
"Why have you concealed your secret pleasure so long from
me?  I am almost vexed with you!"
"Oh, dear aunt —"
"Well, well, my dear, say no more about it. But remember,
in future, I must share in this pleasure. And you, too, Samuel
-to keep your sources of happiness all alone to yourself, and to
deprive your worthy friends of assistance when you knew my
purse was overflowing! What have you to say for yourself,
sir?"
"That I did wrong, dear madam, In futur'e, however



WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              193
"In future, sir, you must bear in mind that you will find an
inclosure every Monday evening on the parlor mantel, directed
to a Mr. Samuel Leland, who will scatter it according to his best
judgment among his stricken friends!"
"Dear madam!" cried Samuel, his voice trembling with emotion, "you make me very happy. I know so many heartsdeserving ones!-who will be made glad by this! Ah! it takes
so little, so very little, to light up wan faces, and ease couches of
pain. I thank you, madam-I thank you!"
Let us add here, that the merchant's wife kept her word.
A few minutes later brought the party to the laundress's.
C HAP TE R XI V.
MRs. FARLEY received the visitors with a sort of subdued
cordiality, which impressed them with the conviction that something unusual had happened.
Samuel spoke up at once, with his usual frankness.
" You have something to tell us, Mrs. Farley?"
The laundress pointed to the door of the front room.
" The poor lady is in there," she said, in a low tone, " and I
fear all is not well with her here," she added, touching her forehead with her finger.
"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Townsend. " Not out of
her mind."
"'She appeared quite well this morning, Mrs. Farley," said
Miriam.




194      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Some one has been here since then, and brought bad news,"
suggested Samuel.
"That's it," whispered the laundress. " One of her sistersa Mrs. De Witt."
"A malignant creature!" remarked Mrs. Townsend; "cold,
selfish, and unfeeling; a woman whose presence is acknowledged
with a shiver, and whose departure is followed by a sense of relief; a sower of dissension, mischief, anxiety, and slander; whose
track is ever marked with misery and tears; an utterer of bitter
things; a spirit of evil!"
Samuel shuddered at this portrait. He glanced unconsciously
on his left, as if he expected to see its original at his elbow.
Miriam trembled uneasily.
Mrs. Farley sighed. She remembered the cruel words which
the evil woman had thrown at her own poor timid boy, and the
misery which they had produced.
"What did this woman do or say to Mrs. Jones?" inquired
Mrs. Townsend, who alone, of all the party, retained her selfpossession.
"She brought her bad news," said the laundress.
"Bad news it must have been, or none at all.  Mrs. De
Witt could be the bearer of none other. What was its tenor?"
said Mrs. Townsend.
"That Mr. Jones had failed intentionally; that he had purposely abandoned his wife, and forever; that he had eloped
with a married woman-a Mrs. Clarke-who joined him at Boston; and that, when last heard from, they were bound for
Europe and the Rhine."
"And they were both members of our church!" said Mrs.
Townsend.
" And this Mrs. De Witt-she too is a member of our church,
is she not?" asked Samuel, uneasily.
"-Yes," returned Mrs. Townsend. "But why do you ask V"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               195
" What can the preaching be that brings forth such fruits?" returned Samuel, sorrowfully. "And yet there may be others
there, who meditate the same dreadful course. They must be
saved, ere it is too late. One word might do it-one little word.
Lord, help them and me!"
" The preaching!" repeated Mrs. Townsend. " Why, what can
that have to do with it?"
The young Christian surveyed the questioner with an air of
mingled sorrow and surprise.
"Have to do with it!" he said.'Everything.  What is the
duty of a shepherd, but to look to the welfare of his flock? And
do these —the Clarkes, the Joneses, and the De Witts-give
evidence that they have been looked after?"
"They do not. But, what then? A pastor can only tell his
people what to do; if they fail to follow his direction, the fault
is not with him, but themselves."' True," returned Samuel.  "But there is a kind of preaching
which persuades its auditors to rouse up from their dream of sin,
and walk in the way of righteousness like MEN! The preaching
that lulls its hearers into silken indifference is not blessed, because it is not of Christ. The business of a spiritual shepherd is
to stir up the hearts of his charge incessantly to an EARNEST sense
of their danger, until he knows that all are within the ark of
safety. This kind of preaching is approved of God and men,
because it is of God. But the preaching that brings forth such
fruits as the Clarkes, the Joneses, and the De Witts, is not of
God, because the fruits are evil!"
"Samuel!" said Mrs. Townsend, looking at the young man
strangely.
"Nay, do not fear for me, dear friend," returned Samuel, with
a serene smile. " I understand you. But have no misgivings. I
am in His keeping!",
Mrs. Townsend was somewhat awed by the majestic gesture




196      WHICH: THE RIIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
which accompanied his words, while she was at the same time
somewhat disturbed by the young man's energy. She turned
an inquiring glance at Miriam; but the latter reassured her by
a smile which was angelic in its confidence.
This silent but expressive response was certainly encouraging;
but it was not wholly satisfactory.
In fact, the mind of the merchant's wife, although partially
illumined, was yet too worldly in its conceptions to comprehend
the simple earnestness, the childlike simplicity, and the trusting
confidence of the heart that walks solely in the light of the
Divine Eye.
"'Preaching that brings forth such fruits'-' save the rest ere
it is too late,'" she repeated, mentally.  "Surely he cannot expect to revolutionize the pulpit! I tremble for his wits!"
" Will you be kind enough to inform Mrs. Jones that we are
here'" said Samuel to the laundress, in a tone which did little
towards favoring Mrs. Townsend's suspicion.  "Perhaps if you
were to add that Miss Selden, who visited her this morning, is
present, it might have a favorable influence upon her decision. I
can readily understand why she desires to avoid visitors-and
her feelings are very natural, and under ordinary circumstances
should be respected. But you are one of us, and you doubtless
see that this is one of those peculiar occasions when a temporary
feeling must be gently sacrificed for the sake of that which is
eternal. Do go, there's a good soul!"
"I will, cheerfully," said Mrs. Farley, whose pure mind intuitively comprehended the noble thought which shone, like a
celestial light, in the young Cnristian's eye: a light which gave
Mrs. Townsend serious concern.
The laundress passed through the narrow door on her errand
and disappeared.
Samuel cast his mild, dark eye upon the flooi. An air of




WtHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              197
mournful thought darkened his brow, which was usually so
serene.
Mrs. Townsend observed him, silently.
Samuel was, in fact, materially disturbed. He had till within
a few moments labored under the impression that iMrs. Townsend's assumed piety was real-that she was, in fine, what she
professed to be-one of the Redeemed. But this impression the
lady had herself swept away by her ill-timed remark, by her
implied doubt of his sanity when he called on the Lord for help,
and by her mingled skepticism  and alarm when he proclaimed
himself in the keeping of his Maker.
His trusting confidence in God, his childlike simplicity, the
beatific expression of his eye —those unerring signs which enable
a Christian to recognize a brother or sister in Christ, as in lesser
organizations brethren recognize each other by certain motions
known only to the affiliated —the lady had mistaken for the
premonitory symptoms of madness!
Samuel was grieved at this mournful discovery. It added to
his gentle heart another anxiety. To his already overburdened
back it was an additional burden. At his never-ceasing hands it
called out for "More work-more work."  It was a soul in
peril, which he had all along imagined to be out of danger. And
more and more he realized the importance of another kind of
preaching than that which lulled its hearers into a silklen confidence in surface-piety-a piety which is, and which is known to
be, a mere pretence.
But Samuel had not alone made this startling discovery.
Miriam had perceived it as well, and by the same unerring signs.
It fell upon her tender heart like an unexpected blow. It drove
the joy from her eye, the glow from her cheek. While to Samuel
it was another anxiety, to her it was an additional sorrow, and
a new incitement for private prayer.
And yet both of these fine, delicate natures were ignorant of




198       WVHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
the fact that the object of their mutual solicitude had, that evening, experienced a certain degree of genuine spiritual contrition;
and that that contrition promised to uproot the crust of more
than half a century of pride, littleness, and solemn hypocrisy, and
let in rays of heavenly light upon her guilt-imprisoned soul, for
the first time.
The lady herself was perfectly conscious of the change which
had taken place in her heart.. She hoped it would penetrate deep
enough to thoroughly purify her spirit, and imbue it with the
same guileless tone which marked the thoughts and utterances of
her two young friends. She hoped this; but she felt no disposition to make any personal effort to secure it. She hoped it would
place her in a state of beatitude of its own power and accord.
But she was neither willing  nor unwilling to assist it, or resist it.
It occurred to her that to second the Silent Power which was
working within her, it would be necessary to ennerve herself; to
call up every energy; to concentrate all her thoughts into one,
and to throw herself, as it were, like a heroine, into the breach,
and battle for a time bravely, heroically, almost superhumanly,
with all that was evil in her nature-invoking, in the meanwhile,
with all the strength and confidence of an earnest mind, the
Prince of Righteousness to aid her in the fight. But to do this,
it would be necessary, first, to summon up all the forces of her
WILL, and to bring them and it under her control. But this
required courage, or rather effort, and that she felt herself unequal
to. Not that she was unequal to it; but she thought she wasthat is to say, she wished to think so. She then flattered herself
that there was no absolute necessity for immediate action; that
any other time would do as well; that the world did not disturb
itself about the matter, and that if it didn't, why should she;
but that, so far as she was herself concerned, she would bring her
mind to the proper point, some time or other; but not now —no,




WVlIC: THE RIGHT, OR TEE LEFT.               199
not Now; and thus the blessed moment passed by, but without
blessing her on the way.
Mrs. Farley was successful. She returned to the visitors in a
few minutes, accompanied by Mrs. Jones.
Miriam was startled at the change which had come over the
latter since the morning.  A few hours had done upon her the
work of twenty years. She was pale, haggard, and wan. Her
brow was of a cadaverous hue. Ier eyes were sunken, while a
dark tinge beneath their lower lids intensified their hollowness.
1Her proud, handsome lip, had lost its spirit. IHer haughty air
was gone. Her firm step was succeeded by an undecided shuffling. She was the picture of a broken woman-of helpless
humility-of timid despair.
She greeted her visitors with an air which seemed to imply
an instinctive consciousness of her own inferiority.  All present,
save the laundress, observed this marked change in the poor
woman's manner with mingled grief and amazement.
Mrs. Townsend glanced at Samuel; but his eye was fixed
thoughtfully upon the broken spirit who was sitting beside the
laundress. She glanced at Miriam; but her gaze was settled
upon the same touching ruin.  She glanced at Mrs. Farley; but
her orbs were also upon the poor timid wreck of what was so
proud, and strong, and brave in the morning.
Mrs. Townsend was embarrassed-uneasy. She could scarcely
retain her seat. She felt strongly inclined, or rather tempted, to
spring from her chair and fly. She had but one thought —one
conviction: that the poor, meek woman who looked so humble,
so helpless, so timid, and so void of all hope, was stark, staring
MAD!
Far different were the thoughts of her companion.  Their
simple minds never dreamt of deserting a fellow-being in distress.




200      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"We have called," said Samuel, in his frank, unaffected way,'to see if we can help you."
"You are very kind," returned the helpless woman, casting
her eyes down timidly, "and I thank you very much, I am
sure."
"Mad!-crushed down to a willing dependence upon charity!"
mused Mrs. Townsend. "I never could have believed this in
one of her haughty blood!"
"We will secure you from want," dear friend, continued
Samuel, whose heart bled at the poor creature's misery; " you
and your child."
"My child!" cried the woman, with a slight start, and her
eyes lit up for a moment with an energetic flash. But the light
subsided again, and then she looked down with the same blank,
spiritless expression as before.
"Yourself and child," repeated Samuel, "will be provided
for. Be comforted, dear lady, and do not look so sad."
"I thank you very much," said the woman, meekly. "You
are very good, and I am very much obliged to you, I am sure."
Samuel observed her attentively for a few moments. An
idea struck him.
"Where is baby now?" he asked.
The poor creature looked at him suspiciously.
"Baby 2" she said.
"Baby," repeated Samuel. "Where is she now 2"
"You want to take her away " said the woman, fixing her
eyes upon him.
"Oh, no," returned Samuel. "That would be cruel. Baby
would cry, baby would scream, baby would pine and die."
The woman eyed him still, as if her suspicion was strengthened rather than weakened by his reply.
Samuel understood the character of her thoughts.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             201
"WVe do not want to take baby," he said.
"You think I will give her to you?" returned the woman,
with a quivering lip.
"Will you give her to us? We can take better care of her
than yourself. Besides, you may come once in a while to see
her!"
The poor woman regarded him steadily, but made no answer.
"Ada," said Samuel.
The woman started.
" That is her name, is it not? Come, now, do give her to us.
We are better off than you, and can of course take better care
of her. She is a pretty child, and ought to be looked after.
Give her to us!"
The woman looked at him silently, and with an air of touching reproach, while he spoke. A light glow ascended slowly to
her chin, from that to her cheeks, and from that to her brow.
Her eyes sparkled with returning intelligence. The quivering of
her lips quickened. Her chair trembled beneath her agitated
frame. Sanity was coming back-urged on by her maternal love
and fears, which were now thoroughly aroused. She put out her
hand to the laundress, as if invoking her protection, darted at
the young man a mournfully reproachful glance, and then, with
a loud sob, bowed her head upon the shoulder of her friend,
and burst into tears.
Intelligence reigned again in the poor woman's mind.
Samuel had worked out his idea 
No one had understood it, however.
Miriam sprang to her feet to console the unhappy lady. But
Samuel arrested the movement.
"Keep your seat, Miss Selden," he said, gently. " Let her
weep!"
Miriam looked at him in astonishment.
9*




202'WHIcH: TEE RIGHT, OR THtE  LEFT.
1Mlts. Thwnsend surveyed him with an expression which said,
"You ace cruel!"
" Her mind was in a state of stupefaction-tears alone would
relieve it," said Samuel. "She will be better now. I thought
you would have comprehended it."
This explanation was perfectly satisfactory. Miriam uttered
a sigh of relief, and returned to her chair.
Samuel waited until the sobbing had ceased, and then approached the unhappy lady.
"You will forgive me, will you notl" he said, laying his
hand tenderly upon her arm.
The woman looked up at him. Her eye was brighter, clearer;
and though her features still retained their haggardness, their
former air of helpless stupidity was gone. She was sane again;
for how long, was yet to be determined.
" Ah! Mr. Leland!" she exclaimed, "I am glad to see you.
What! Mrs. Townsend-and.you, too, Miss Selden? I thank
you for your kindness. I had almost begun to think myself deserted. How is MIr. Townsend?"
"Quite well," returned the lady to whom this question was
addressed.
"I have been ill, have I not? " continued the woman, turning
to Mrs. Farley.'"A  fainting-fit only," said Mrs. Townsend, on observing the
hesitation of the latter. " But you are now quite recovered."
"And you came in while it was on me? Really, a sorry welcome!"  Then turning to Miriam, and taking her hand, which
she pressed tenderly, " Do you know, my dear, that I haven't
been able to give a single thought to what we were talking of
this morning."
"You have had other matters to occupy you 3"
"Yes, and trying ones, too, my dear. Nevertheless, I am very
glad to see you. By-the-way, Mr. Leland-"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               203
"Yes, madam-"
" I have a message for the lady whom you brought here last
evening. Will you talke it?"
"Cheerfully," returned Samuel.
" Thank you. Give her this," said the woman, taking a letter
from the mantel, " and my respects."
"I will do so," said Samuel, putting the letter into his breast
pocket. "And now, will you do me a favor iin return."
" I am scarcely in a position to grant favors, sir," replied the
lady, with a smile of touching sadness; "s'lill I think I can safely
promise any favor you may ask!"
"Which implies —"
"That I have the highest confidence in you, sir," said the lady.
"Dear madam, you make me very happy. I shall endeavor
to retain your good-will.  But a thought strikes me. Pray,
pardon my impoliteness-I would speak a word in private with
our dear friend here."
"It is granted," said Mrs. Jones, turning to Miriam, while
Samuel approached the laundress, and whispered"Dear Mrs. Farley, we have not a moment. to lose. We
must take advantage  of the present unclouded condition of her
mind, and save her, if it be possible.  In an hour her insanity
may return, and then her case will be hopeless. We must lead
her to Our Prince while there is yet time. You understand me,
do you not?"
" Oh, yes. You have a good heart. Do let us save her. I
had the doctor here a little before dusk."
"Well?"
"He did not tell me so, in so many plain words, but I inferred
from his manner that the poor lady had not long to live. Her
heart is broken!"
" Not three days," said Samuel. "It is written in her face




204      WHICH: THE  RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
In three days she will be at the bar of judgment; and if unrepentant-"
"We must save her," cried the laundress.
"With His help, and ere an hour.  Lord, help her!  I will
send Miss Selden to you. Prepare her to assist us!"
He pressed Mrs. Farley's hand, and returned to the object of
his anxiety.
" Ah! you are a pretty fellow," said the latter, archl)
"Making love to Mrs. Farley before our very faces!"
Samuel smiled, serenely, as he replied"And now I am going to add to my enormity by asking Miss
Selden to speak a good word for me. Will you do sol'?" he
added, turning to Miriam.
"With pleasure," returned the latter, rising.
"You cannot deceive me, Mr. Leland!" said Mrs. Jones, shak
ing her finger at him. "You have some plot afoot 2"
"I have," said Samuel, with his accustomed frankness. "' Shall
I tell you what it is."
And taking her hand, he pressed it, and looked her tenderly
in the eye.
" You are one of my favorites," said the lady, " and I can take
anything from you."
"Anything 2"
"Anything, sir."
"Have a care, dear friend. I shall put you to the proof l"
"Do so. You have my confidence."
"Fully?"
" Fully."
"Then, dear lady, come with me-"
"Whither l"
"To our Prince-the Redeemer!" said Samuel.
"This, then, is your plot?" said Mrs. Jones.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               205
"Yes.  You will join us in it, will you not —for His sake,
and your own?"
His interlocutor surveyed him steadily for a few moments,
and then, her hand still remaining in his, turned her eyes downward, thoughtfully.
All present observed her with affectionate interest.
It was a solemn moment to every one in the apartment.
At least three hearts fluttered as if their own salvation hung
upon that one woman's will. It was as if three angels, breathless with anxiety, were mutely asking her to consent to her own
salvation.
At length the woman raised her head. The lashes of her eyes
were moist. The muscles of her lip quivered. Her cheeks
were of the color of snow. Her breast was agitated.
"I am  a poor, weak, helpless thing," she said, pressing the
young Christian's hand. " If you can save me, do so!"
"Not I, dear madam," returned Samuel, "but Our PrinceHIe is good and gracious, kinder than men think. Open your
heart to Him. He will look on you with a smile, listen to
you with tenderness.  Speak to Him freely, unreservedly, contritely-believingly.  Nay, be not afraid-He will welcome your
approach. Reflect: Heaven is worth an effort. Cheer up, stand
firm, be brave —a little while. One effort —one brave effort.
Heaven is in sight-cherubim and seraphim looking down."
" Nay, do not ask me," said the woman. " I thought I could,
but I cannot. I have neither faith nor belief.  My heart is
hardened. I believe, and I don't believe. I have faith, and I
have no faith. I know I am in danger, but I do not see my way
to safety. All my life, I have heard of sin, of punishment-of
repentance, of mercy; but I have never put faith in them, because
those around me did not. Example influenced my heart, and
hardened it. It is still influenced, still hardened by it. If I
could believe, I would —but I cannot; my heart will not let me.




206       WHnICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
I might say I believed, but it would be untrue. I do not believe
-nor would I deceive you or myself by a pretence. I cannot
believe; I have heard either too much or too little, to permit me
to believe. And yet-"
She paused-hesitated.
"And yet-" said Samuel, encouragingly.
" And yet," faltered the impenitent, "if I could see these things
more clearly, perhaps-"
She hesitated, and paused again.
" One word," said Samuel. "Aptly is The Disposer called
of men The JUST. His decrees are stern, rigorous, unchangeable.
Whoso breaks them, must pay the penalty.  HE has said it-HE,
THE KING, who goes not back a hair's breadth in His word."' Is he, then, so stern, so relentless?"
"Even so stern, so relentless; Himself hath said it:'By
the deeds of the law shall no man be justified.'' I change not.'
Spiritual indifference is then no laughing matter, violation of His
decrees no jest. Let who will mock, let who will revile, let who
will sneer at or pass them heedless by, they must answer for it
all, one day, to The August-The Just."'
" Lost —lost!" cried the other, in despair.
"Not yet," rejoined Samuel. "'Twixt the sinner and The
Just stands one whose influence with The Just is all-potentwhose eye is mild and gentle, whose heart is full of pity, tenderness, and love-JEsus, the Prince;
"Who, knowing the terror-the pitiless rigor —of the Law,
framed a compact with His Father, which would enable all who
would be saved, to be saved, and still preserve intact the justice
and solemnity of the law;
" Who came down from heaven,
"Assumed the form, and all the tenderest susceptibilities to
pain, of man,
"Endured a life of calumny, of persecution, of intense suffering,




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             207
"And died a death of excruciating agony,
"That the voluntary sufferings of the Son of God might meet
the rigorous requirements of the Law of God, and render it possible for ALL to come to God, through Him, the Prince;
"And that even the vilest might escape the stern penalty of
sin, by simply repenting and believing in Him, the Saveour.
"For He is good, gentle, kind-Our Prince;
" Loving, and beloved of His Father, The King,
" Who will grant mercy to all who will ask it through His
Son, The Prince,
" Who can obtain salvation for all who will repent and believe,
and ask it of Him infaith."
Mrs. Jones looked down, again.
"You see it all clearly now, do you not?" asked Samuel,
tenderly.
"Clearly-yes!" faltered the other.
"You see, then, how easy a thing it is to approach Our Prince;
and how gladly He will hear and receive you?"
The poor woman was pale, trembling, and undecided.
" I am weak and broken," she said. "Speak to Him for me.
I would do it for myself, but I have no heart, no FAITH, no uOPE.
The world has led me astray, and I have been a half-consenting
party to the wrong. Had the world set me a better example, I
would have followed it; it did not, and I am-what I am. Look
at me. I am crushed, worthless-with no hope here, none for
The Beyond. The world schooled me for perdition, and I allowed it to do so without even a show of resistance. The
world is now done with me; it has finished its work upon me,
and cast me off. I am a Miserable, an Unworthy, a Nothing.
The world knows it, and says it; I know it, and confess it. If,
in the face of all this, you think I dare offer myself to Him, I
will do so; if, in the face of all this, you believe He will accept
me-me, who am so unworthy; me, whom the world rejects



208      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
then lead me to Him; use your influence with Him for me.
Lead me to Him," she added, with a wild, startling sob, "for
the sake of a poor, crushed, helpless soul, that is without faith and
without hope!"
"Dear madam," said the young Christian, with emotion,
"faith is a little thing, but it is everything with our Prince.
With it, repentance is everything; without it, nothing."
Mrs. Jones trembled, and said huskily"You talk of faith and repentance, while I do not, cannot,
even repent!"
"Do you not grieve for your sins, dear madam?"
"I do, and I do not. I desire to; but the world has hardened
my heart so, it will not let me. I —I —cannot take hold of repentance earnestly.  Everything seems hollow to me. I have
dwelt so long amid things that are unreal-among minds that
entertain only those thoughts which flatter their own silken hollowness, hypocrisy, and convenience-driving away those which
do pot favor their own wishes, that I have no faith in anything
that is real. I know that this is all wrong-that is, I have a
presentiment, a sort of shadowy idea-that it is so.  But
what can I do? Repent? But how shall I repent, when I
have only a heart which is no heart, a faith which is no faith, a
conviction which is no conviction, a certainty which is not a certainty 1"
Samuel trembled, as if laboring with a chill.
"No faith." he said.
" Not a grain. Why should I deceive you or myself?"
The young Christian reflected a moment. His countenance
was sad-his heart torn with emotion. He silently invoked
the Holy Spirit for counsel. At length a new thought came
to him.
" One word, dear madam," he said. " The imminency of your
danger is great; still, all is not lost. Will you hope 9 Hope




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE  LEFT.               209
is not far from faith,-it will lead you to it.  Our Prince is
kind, gentle, good-O, believe it. Hope for faith-for pardonfor safety, and He will come to your aid. Say you will hopesay it, to Him!"
"Alas! I cannot —I have no hope!"
A shade of agony swept over the features of the young
Christian.
"But, do hope. Rouse up-be brave. Ask Him for it, in
hope, and He will send it to you. Do hope. It is indispensable.
Try, I beseech you!"
The impenitent shook her head. She was paler than marble.
"I cannot," she answered. " I wish for it, but it comes not!"
" O, dear madam, ask for it-do, I implore you. Ask for it.
Courage. One effort, now; but one-hopefully. Not all I can
do, not all the world can do, will help you, without an earnest
struggle of your own. Hope!"
" I cannot. My heart is cold, hard. The evil spirit of formality, which has governed my whole life, sits upon it now, and
keeps all that is good and earnest in it-if any there be-down."
"He is good-HE! He will remove it, and send you faith,
will you but ask it in hope. Come, be brave one moment-one
little moment."
Thus adjured, the impenitent resolved upon an effort.
She raised her eyes, as if to heaven, imploringly; anguish
was in their glance, and supplication, and sorrow-but not one
ray of confidence. It was an appeal from helpless, abject, hopeless despair. A moment, and her orbs fell again-despondent
to the last!
A nervous shudder darted through the young Christian's frame.
Tears sprang to his eyes.
The laundress and Miriam were already sobbing.
Mrs. Townsend was moved. Scenes like this were new to her.
It had therefore all the charm of novelty; but it was only the




210       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
novelty of a touching play. It absorbed her mind, agitated her
feelings, called forth a sympathizing tear —but nothing more.
The spirit of vitalizing grace, which had visited her own heart, a
little while before, having met with no encouragement, had
passed away, leaving her as it had found her-an every-day
woman: moderately superior, moderately good, moderately cold,
moderately impressible, moderately worldly, moderately honest,
moderately pious, moderately deceitful, and moderately respectable; equally ready to laugh at anything that was amusing, as
to give a tear to anything which appealed to her sympathies; as
ready to listen to the music of an opera as to a chaunt of
praise to Jehovah; as ready to criticise a sermon upon the plan
of salvation as a disquisition upon dress; as ready to join in the
tattle of a converzatione, as in a discourse upon sacred things;
and as ready to "attend" the House of the Lord on Sunday, as
"Burton's," or the ballet on Monday evening. She was Mrs.
Townsend again: that is to say, Mrs. Townsend moved, but not
aroused.
"Mrs. Farley-Miss Selden," said Samuel, in an agitated
voice, " a soul is trembling; and the house which it inhabits is
trembling, too. Support the latter with your hands, the former
with your prayers."
He spoke in time; the feeble frame of the unhappy woman
was giving way, and would have fallen, a moment later, but for
assistance.
" Let us kneel," said the young Christian.
"Pray for me!'" said. the forlorn woman, in a weak, imploring
voice. "' Pray for me. I exat to hope, but I cannot. Pray for
me. I am suffering!"
Samuel bowed his head op:on his hands, through which trickled
tears of molten agony.
"Hope, madam-hope t! he cried. "Hope, I beseech you!"
"' I cannot- I cannot!"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              211
" Oh, madam —"
"I dare not!" said the woman, with a cold shudder.  "It
would be mockery. I have no hope. But save me-Oh, save
me, you! I am in despair!"
" One word will do it!" whispered Miriam, through her sobs.
" One word!" cried the humble laundress.
"One word!" added Samuel.  "Say it —for your soul's
sake!"
" I cannot —I dare not!" cried the agitated woman. "But do
not let me go. I feel that my hours are numbered, and —I —--
oh!" she cried, with a loud burst, "hold me-hold me; a gulf,
black, cold, and dismal, is yawning before me. Pray for mepray for me. If you have hearts, pray for me-hold me-save
me!"
There was no resisting the tone of this appeal.
The next instant, the voice of the young Christian was ascending to the Holy One.
"Heavenly Father! We are suppliants for Thy bounty.
"Look down in pity on this poor soul, who sits shivering at
Thy door.
"The world and her own heart have dealt hardly by her; and
she had neither strength nor will to resist their cruel mandates,
their bewildering temptations.
" She is sore and aweary, feeble and sad; she is bowed down
with afflictions, which press upon her hard.
"' Sorrow is in her heart, wretchedness upon her brow; gloom
upon her soul. Have mercy upon her!': Illumine the darkness of her mind with the light of Thy
Divine Eye; whisper comfort to her desponding heart; shed
hope, in all its rich effulgence, upon her shrinking soul. Have
mercy upon her!
"Let her see the brightness of Thy countenance; let her feel




212      W\VHICH: THE RIGHT, OR'ITHE LEFT.
the gentle kindness of Thy hand; let her hear the sweet sound
of Thy voice. Have mercy upon her!
" Say to her, in the richness of Thy mercy,' Daughter, thy
sins are forgiven thee!' Have mercy upon her!
"She is in peril; and she implores Thee to stretch out Thy
hand and save her. Have mercy upon her!. " She has come to Thy gates, hearing of Thy great goodness
and loving-kindness, and beseecheth Thee to turn her not away.
Have mercy upon her!
" She is helpless, and in want; friendless, and in sorrow; and
imploreth Thee to take her in. Have mercy upon her!
" She asketh Thee for succor, shelter, and a little of Thy bread,
which is life and health, and strength and raiment, to all who
partake of it. Have mercy upon her!
"Smile upon her, Father, for. the sake of Thy dear Son.
Open Thy gate unto her, and let her in.
"Let her sing the song of gladness, and not that of woe.
" Let her feel the kindness of Thy hand, and not its wrath.
"Let her in, for the sake of Thy dear Son, who died that she
might live.
" Let her within Thy Kingdom —save her from that of the
Evil One, who is Thine enemy and hers. Let her in!
" She will be grateful to Thee for Thy loving-kindness. Let
her in!
" She will make one of Thy servants; she will walk in Thy
ways; she will be one of Thy daughters and Thy people. Let
her in!
" She will join the Holy Throng in singing grateful Hosannas
to Thee, for Thy kindness, Thy mercy, and Thy love.
"Have mercy upon her, for Thy Son's sake! Let her in!
"Hear us, we beseech Thee, for the sake of Thy beloved Son,
our Prince, our Redeemer; and to Thee and to Thy name shall
be the glory and the praise, evermore!"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               213
" Amen!" said Miriam and Mrs. Farley.
"Break off!" said Mrs. Townsend, gently. "The poor thing
has fainted!"
It was even as she said. The nerves of the agitated impenitent were totally unstrung, and she had sunk down in weakness
and insensibility.
Mrs. Farley brought some water and bathed her temples.
Mrs. Townsend drew forth her salts, and applied the vial to the
poor woman's nostrils; Miriam and Samuel rubbed her hands.
Success, at length, crowned their efforts. The impenitent
uttered a faint sigh and slowly opened her eyes, but without
evincing any consciousness of the presence of those around her.
" She had better lie down," observed MIrs. Townsend.  "She
is unfit to be here."
Mrs. Farley and Miriam acted upon the suggestion.  They
raised the poor woman, and bore her tenderly to a bed in the
front room.
She sunk upon the pillow like one in the last stage of exhaustion.
" How do you feel now, dear?" asked Miriam, bending over
her gently.
The woman looked up at her with a cold, blank eye, and muttered, feebly-' He will not come back-on the Rhine-with Mirs. Clarkepretty Christians-pretty people!"
Her auditors looked at each other, sorrowfully.
The poor creature was in mental darkness once more!
Samuel turned away, and wept.
Mrs. Townsend sighed.
Miriam bowed her head upon Mrs. Farley's breast, and sobbed.
The maniac surveyed them with a cold, idiotic, and partially
malignant stare.




214      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE;5Jo'T.
"Fine clothes you wear!" she muttered, addressing Mrs.
Townsend.  "Is your heart fine, too?  Oh, I know you. You
are a worthy woman," she added, satirically: "you are one of
the Mrs. Clarkes!  Who are you going to run away with.
Some other lady's husband?  It is the fashion, you know, in our
church!"
Mrs. Townsend shuddered, but made no reply.
"You are mistaken, dear," said Mrs. Farley, soothingly. "This
lady is good-very good. She is your friend, too. You ought
not to speak to her in that way."
The demented woman laughed.
"I know her," she said, with a cunning leer. "I know her!
She is another Mrs. Clarke; and you will know her, too, if you
have a husband. Look out for her!"
" I cannot bear this!" exclaimed Mrs. Townsend, quitting the
room.
"'There, dear. Now see what you have done!" said Mrs.
Farley.
"Don't let her take my child!" said the demented creature, in
alarm. " Don't let that bad woman take my child, too!"
" No one will take your child, dear!" said Mrs. Farley, humor~
ing her.
" I see them!" cried the poor woman, her mind wandering off
in another direction.
"See them, dear? Whom?" asked the laundress.
" My husband and Mrs. Clarke-sailing in a steamboat-on
the Rhine. But I don't see my baby!"
"Baby is here-baby is safe!" cried a little voice near her
It was that of her child, who had been aroused from its slumbers,
as it lay on the bed, and who was now creeping to its mother's
side, through the blanket and quilt which it had thrown off.
The poor woman uttered a loud shriek, and catching up the
child, she pressed it frantically to her breast, covering it with




WHtICH[: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             215
kisses, and giving vent to her maternal joy in successive bursts
of laughter.
": I tremble for her!" observed Mrs. Farley to Miriam. " She
is too feeble to bear. up against so many shocks."
" I will stay with you to-night,"' whispered Miriam, whose mind
had been disturbed by similar thoughts, " and watch her while you
sleep. You will have your work to do to-morrow, and to do it
you must have rest; while I, you know, can sleep."
The laundress thanked her with a grateful glance and a gentle
pressure of the hand.
These two simple, innocent natures understood each other.
They were drawn together by that invisible yet positive influence which links the pure with the pure-an influence~ which only
they who have passed from spiritual death unto spiritual life can
appreciate or comprehend. Each intuitively recognized in the
other a future companion in the bright Beyond.
Their fears were not unfounded.  Ere long, the maniacal
laugh was over; the lips ceased their kisses; the fire in the eyes
went out, the eyes themselves closed, the arms dropped from
around the child, Which still lay upon its feeble parent's breast,
and the poor creature succumbed again to her exhausting weakness, with a low, faint sigh.
Mrs. Farley took off the child, and laid it, with a few soothing
words, beside the mother, in which position it fell, after a little
while, into & quiet slumber.
Samuel approached the bedside, and observed the distended
woman silently. Her breathings were low and faint; her face
sharp, thin, and pale, and throwing out with greater boldness
than ever the dark shadow underneath the eyes.
The young Christian was moved.
Miriam and Mrs. Farley looked at him as if soliciting his
opinion.
"She will be gone ere the morning," said Samuel, in reply,




216      WHIcH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.'" and with all her sins upon her. Oh, had she but hoped, for a
moment —for a single moment!"
"Let us pray for her!" suggested Mrs. Farley, sobbingly.
"Yes," said Miriam, "with our hearts!"
They dropped upon their knees, and bowing their heads on
their clasped hands, silently beseeched for mercy for the victim
of flippant society and skeleton religion.
Mrs. Townsend returned while they were thus engaged. A
single glance, and she comprehended all. Without being seriously touched, she dropped involuntarily into an attitude of prayer,
as much for appearance' sake as from a sense of propriety.
Half an hour passed away thus, and then Mrs. Townsend
arose, purposely rustling her dress in the movement, to attract
the attention of the others. In this, however, she was not successful; and finding that her companions still remained upon
their knees, she quietly returned to the back room, seated herself on a chair near the window, and amused herself by contemplating the stars.
Ten minutes later, the petitioners were disturbed by a low sigh
from the lips of the object of their supplications. They rose up
and bent over her. Her eyes were open, and dazzling with a
light which made those near her shudder.
"' Do you know us?" said Samuel.
"My child!" returned the woman, faintly.
" It is here beside you," said Mrs. Farley.
"Let me see it," murmured the dying woman.
The laundress held it up before her. The wretched woman
gazed at its slumbering face a few moments, in silence, and then
said, in a whispering voice, which was replete with agony"Bring her near me. I am going!"
The unconscious child was brought close to her, and its little
brow received its mother's last kiss.
"Lay her down again," said the dying woman, with a sigh.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THlE LEFT.              217
Her wish was complied with, and then her eyes wandered from
one to another of the group, till they fell on Samuel.
"You would have saved mne," she said, feebly, and with difficulty, " and I thank you. But- it was not to be. I had no hope,
no confidence, no faith. The world had crushed out all my
faith long before. And now I am  going," she added, with a
painful smile, "to my reward! Nay-don't speak. Every moment is precious. My child-"
" I understand you, dear madam," said Samuel.  "I will take
care of her, and bring her up in the ways of the Lord!"
" See to that i" said the woman, with expiring energy; "see to
that! All else is as nothing. You will?"
And she bent her dying gaze upon him, imploringly.
I"  will," said Samuel.
The woman's eye shone with gratitude.
"Thank you-God bless you!" she murmured, with a last effort. " Your hand upon it!" She tried to press it to her lips, but
failed. Her frame was exhausted. The vital spark was struggling to escape. "Hold me-hold me!" she said, in a voice
which was reduced to a faint whisper. " I-I am-going.  Perdition-I see it! Save me-save me! All-is-dark   lness!"
The lamp was out-the light was gone.
The victim of society's mummeries, of society's frivoliies, and
of society's skeleton religion, was —WHERE?
10




CHAPTER XV.
No time was lost in notifying the relatives of the derarted of
the sad event. They responded by sending an undertaker to
take charge of the remains. A costly coffin was brought, and
the funeral appointed to take place at one o'clock. At that
hour, Samuel, Mrs. Townsend, Miriam, and Mrs. Farley alone
were present.
Samuel was surprised.
"Have none of the poor lady's friends been here " he inquired of the laundress.
The latter replied in the negative.
Samuel could not tell what to make of it.
Miriam was grave.
Mrs. Townsend indignant, but silent.  She understood the
world.
Steps were heard ascending the stairs.
"Ah! here they are at last!" observed the young Christian,
with his usual simplicity.
The door opened, and three men appeared. They were the
undertaker and his assistants!
Samuel looked grieved.
" I am just in time," said the undertaker, taking out his watch.
"Screw down the lid," he added, addressing his assistants.
"Perhaps we had better wait a little," interrupted Samuel.
"The lady's relatives-"
"Will meet the hearse at the corner!" said the undertaker
with a supercilious smile, which had a world of meaning in it.
Salnuel blushed to his very temples.
(Z18)




WHICH: THE RIGHIT, OR THE LEFT.             219
Five minutes later, the coffin was in the hearse, behind which
stood a solitary carriage-Mrs. Townsend's.
Mrs. Farley remained at home, to attend to little Bob and
the tender orphan, who could not comprehend why " mamma
was so white and still, why they put her in the mahogany box
with the silver nails, nor what they meant by carrying her away."
Mrs. Townsend entered her carriage, followed by Miriam and
Samuel. The latter was pale. His companions observed him.
"What are you thinking of, Samuel?" asked Mrs. Townsend.
"Of the littleness of that pride which declines to draw up its
livery before an alley, and awaits the corse of a sister at the
corner!" said Samuel. "Tell me," he added, turning to the
inquirer, "of what avail is the preaching which brings forth such
fruits?"
" The fault is not in the preaching," said Mrs. Townsend, " but
in the people, who hear, but do not heed."
" But if the preacher did his duty like one who felt the responsibility of his position-"
"He would very soon lose his position!" interrupted Mrs.
Townsend, impatiently.  " Come, come, Samuel, you must get
rid of these notions, and learn to take the world as you find it!"
The young Christian regarded her for an instant or two with
painful surprise. Then bowing his head, as if in astonishment
at the rebuke, he bent his eyes thoughtfully upon the floor of
the carriage.
Mrs. Townsend bit her lip. She felt mortified, not at her
remark, but at herself, for making it to one whom she so highly
esteemed.
The embarrassing silence which followed was happily brought
to an end by the temporary stoppage of their vehicle, which
had now reached the corner.  Mrs. Townsend took advantage of the incident to re-establish herself in the young man's
confidence.




220      WVHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Samuel," she said, in a genial tone, which no one knew better than herself how to employ, " do look out and see what the
matter is-there's a good soul!"
The young man cheerfully complied.
"Three carriages are moving up between us and the hearse,"
he said, after a few moments' examination.
" The friends of Mrs. Jones-her afflicted sisters!" remarked
Mrs. Townsend, with a smile of deep significance. " Their relations to the deceased entitle them to precedence!"
She moved a little on her seat, to observe the vehicles; as
she did so, she caught a view of Mrs. De Witt, who was sitting
in the front carriage. The latter held a handkerchief to her
eyes, and was in deep mourning.
Mrs. Townsend smiled, in her peculiar way, and leaned back
to avoid recognition.
A moment later, her own conveyance was following in the
train.
An hour and a half brought the party to Three Hundred and
Sixty Acres of Human Vanity-Greenwood.  The tower-bell
tolled solemnly as the body entered the gate, as if to welcome
the lost worldling to that magnificent inclosure of worms, flowers, riding-paths, and-artistical effects.
They passed along the main avenue and turned into a winding
path leading to a knoll which overlooked the cemetery and the
bay.  On the brow of this knoll rose the facade of a gorgeous
tomb, resembling in its exterior an Ionic temple. The door
stood open, as the hearse drew up-the vault was awaiting its first
tenant. Over the entrance, fancifully sculptured, appeared the
name of' the owner of this show-house of the dead —THEODORE
AUGUSTUS JONEs-Fraudulent Bankrupt might have been added
with marked propriety, but it was only impressed upon the
minds of those who followed his consort's corse.
The interior of the vault, which was of an oblong shape, was




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                 221
built of dry, solid, compact masonry. The sides and lower end
were lined with firm stone shelves, with air-tight lids, for the
reception of the dead.
The remains of the first tenant were placed upon the lower
shelf, by the cemetery's attendants, in a business-like way; the
relatives looked on in a business-like way; they walked out in
a business-like way; the vault was closed in a business-like way,
and all was over.
Having attended to the last rites of the dear departed, the
relatives now gave themselves up for a few moments to enjoyment.
Mr., AMrs., and Miss De Witt examined the Ionic temple with
mixed feelings of complacency and satisfaction.
Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins flung their eyes over the cemetery generally, and appeared to survey its numerous mazy, intersecting
paths, its countless hillocks, its sylvan slopes, its tiny glens, its
gentle declivities, its abrupt knolls, and its artificial valleys, variously dotted with horizontal slabs, marble shafts, granite obelisks,
and other fanciful monuments, with mingled curiosity and delight.
Mr. and Mrs. Smith-the latter the third sister of the dear
departed-and their two daughters amused themselves by examining the numerous monumental beauties around them. This,
they found " very pretty;" that, " so very romantic;" a third, " a
perfect love;" a fourth, "really exquisite;" a fifth, "so very
simple," which was very true; a sixth, " so like a doll;" a seventh,' very touching;" an eighth, " perfectly beautiful;" a ninth, " a
real gem;" and a tenth, " bewilderingly magnificent."
The Smiths were in their element.  Everything around them
spoke of money, taste, talent, extravagance, and absurdity. The
Smiths enjoyed themselves. Their senses were appealed to.
Each object said to them, "Look at me-I'm  a curiosity!" and
the Smiths looked; their eyes were fed. The desired chord
was touched, and the Smiths were all admiration.




222      WHICH: THE RIGHT, ORt THE LEFT.
All of these parties were immediately allied, by blood or
marriage, to the inmate of the vault, and had therefore a perfect
right to be considered in affliction.
"Samuel," said Mrs. Townsend, "this is hardly an occasion
for adding to our worldly knowledge, but if you have any disposition to learn how refined' blood' may become, how capable it
is of ascending above human weakness, allow me to take you to
the exhibition."
"What exhibition, madam i?'
"The exhibition of nonsense. Keep }M*r. Leland's arm, Mirry."
And she led the way to a fine showy vault on the left of the
Ionic temple, which was sufficiently attractive and imposing to
serve as a pretext for the object with which they approached it.
"Now," said Mrs. Townsend, in a low voice, "listen, and be
edified. Nay, don't regard it as either vulgar or impertinent,
but as a lesson in the great drama of worldly humbug. Look
at this," she added, touching the vault, " and listen to them i"
Samuel complied, though not without a feeling of shame.
"A very pretty design!" observed Mrs. De Witt, surveying
the Ionic temple. " It reflects credit upon the taste of Mr. Jones.
Pity he isn't inside of it!  And then the situation —how very
elegant! It commands such a magnificent view, and can be sEEN
from every direction."
"It cost five thousand dollars," said Mr. De Witt, who, beiig
a stock-broker, was a gentleman of large practical ideas. "Almost
as much as mine —"': O,.rs, you mean!" suggested his lady, significantly.
"Ye —yes; you are quite correct. Almost as much as ours,
the bill of which, if I remember right, was in the neighborhood
of six thousand seven hundred and fifty."
This was said with the air of a man who knew what was what,
and could afford to lay down the cash for it, too.
"Do you know, my dear," inquire -1 his lady, "whether Mr.




WincII: T{HE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             223
Jones ever paid for the whole of it? If he did, it was a wonder.
It was a habit of his, I think, to leave a small unsettled balance
at the foot of every bill!"
"As you say," replied the stock-broker, "Mr. Jones had a
weakness that way. And that reminds me —"'"That he owes you a small balance?" interrupted his amiable
spouse, sharply   "Wretch! And you knew  him, too.  I'm
ashamed of you, sir-perfectly ashamed. O, if I had only been
blessed with a MAN for a husband!"
"But, my dear-"
" Silence, sir! Remember where you are!"
The crest-fallen stock-broker -was silent.
A few passers-by approached at this moment, and Mrs. De
Witt raised her handkerchief to her eyes to veil her sorrow.
Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins were, meanwhile, getting on as well as
could be expected. Mrs. Jenkins being a sister to the new tenant of the Ionic temple, was, of course, fully entitled to a liberal
indulgence in Greenwood affliction.
"Dear me, what a delightful situation!" exclaimed the griefstricken lady. " It "-the Ionic temple —'comtmands such a magnificent view! Why, one can see everything from here. Really,
Mr. Jenkins, we must have one like it!"
From her words and manner, it would appear that the speaker
anticipated a great deal of enjoyment in the way of magnificent
views, when she should, in her turn, take up her residence in
three Hundred and Sixty Acres of Human Vanity. This was
perhaps the reason why she manifested so strong a desire for a.ane showy abode and a delightful situation.
"We'll think of it, my dear," observed the prudent Mr.
Jenkins.
"How can you make such a reply to me, Mr. Jenkins?" demanded his better half, " when you know very well, sir, that I
know that you only employ it as a subterfuge to get rid of un



221      WHICEH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
pleasant subjects, and that you never mean to think of it
again."
" Excuse me, my dear," said Mr. Jenkins, "'it escaped me
unawares. I-I-have no intention of evading your wishes in
any particular, I assure you."
"I presume not, sir!" said Mrs. Jenkins, significantly.
"You may rely upon it, my dear. But do you know that
vaults of this description are somewhat expensive."
"And what is that to me, Mr. Jenkins."
" Very true, my dear-very true!" said her lesser half, in a
tone which implied that it was something to him, and something
very serious, too. Then, as if anxious to completely reinstate
himself in his lady's good graces, he added, " As you say, my
deal', the situation of Mr.. Jones's vault is very fine, and the
vault itself quite imposing. If you think we had better have
one like it, I'll give it my attention."
" No, sir, not like it," said Mrs. Jenkins, "that would be too
akin to imitation. Something in a different style, but equally as
grand and impressive. Something-something-new, original,
and elegant. Something worthy of a JENKINS, sir!"
" I —I understand you, my dear. I'll think of it-"
" Sir!"
"That is, I mean, I'll think it over, and see what sortof a
design it shall be!"
"I believe, Mr. Jenkins," said his better half, severely, " that
that is the business of an architect, or persons of that sort 1"
"Very true, my dear-very true," said Mr. Jenkins, surrendering. " I'll see one, and give him an order for a design.'s
"Immediately, Mr. Jenkins?"
"Immediately, my dear.  Within a week."
"Very good, Mr. Jenkins. Then we'll take Friday for looking up the proper situation."
" Yes, my dear," said Mr. Jenkins, in a tone which evinced a




WHICii: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.            225
solemn consciousness that he was in for it beyond redemption.
"Greenwood," said Mrs. Jenkins, with the tender air of one
who, having conquered, could afford to be magnanimous, "is so
delightful a spot in which to take the Long Repose! Ah! Mr.
Jenkins, when, after life's journey is ended, we come and lie
together here-free from the cares, the sorrows, and the din of
time; our long home perched upon some charming hill, like this;
around us brilliant vaults, showy, inviting, and imposing as our
own; the tower-bell tolling, every hour, its subduing requiem;
the green knolls, and slopes, and acclivities glittering in the morning with their silver dew, waving gently to and fro beneath the
zephyrs, through the day, and joining the silent shades and the
pale monuments in the hush of the calm, starry night; the quiet
broken only by the low, soothing murmurs of the bay, as its
blue waters, gilded by the moon, roll, with playful violence, upon
the dark, sullen shore: —what can be more delightful, Mr.
Jenkins 2"
"Nothing, my dear-nothing!" returned that gentleman, with
a glance of admiration at the lady who was doing him so amiably.
Mrs. Townsend, who could scarcely restrain an explosion of
laughter, now pressed Samuel's arm, and the trio moved away
from the spot, followed slowly by their carriage.
"Well, Samuel, what do you think of the exhibition." asked
the lady, archly.
"That there is no foe so deadly to the human heart as that
gilded thing, the world!" returned the young man, promptly.
" Ah!" said Mrs. Townsencd, shaking her finger in' playful rebuke, "on your old strain again. Why rail out so incessantly
against the world."
"Because it is rushing pell-mell to insanity, madam, and because every true man should do something for its rescue."
10*




226       WVHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Insanity?"
"Insanity, madam! Look at what it has done for Mrs. Jones;
see what it is doing for those whom we left but now."
" You do not regard the De Witts and the Jenkinses as insane, surely?"
" Are they any wiser than her whom they escorted to her last
earthly resting-place to-day?  Are not their thoughts gross,
petty, ludicrous, ignoble? Fell a single sentiment from their lips
worthy the attention of an earnest or intelligent mind 2"
" I confess it."
"And yet their utterances had in them, as they thought, much
of life's daily wisdom!  While they spoke, their intellects were
in full play-what they spoke, were the fruits of their intellectual
culture.  Could Bedlam produce mental results less worthy."
"I admit it."
"And yet, not theirs alone the blame. The. world has led
their poor, frivolous minds to this ignoble pass. The world,
which employs all its enginery to drive out, from everywhere,
every vestige of aught which has a tendency to inspire the human
heart with a single solemn thought. The world, which, with the
tenacious malignity of a demon, haunts man at every step, from
the cradle to the shroud, and so bewilders him with novelties and
vanities, that he cannot find a single earnest moment in which
to talk to God; which so engrosses him with earth, that he has
no room for thoughts of heaven; so possesses him with cares for
his brief dream here, that he has no time to prepare for the long
reality of eternity!"
" Have you, then, no regard for art, for genius-taste?" asked
Mrs. Townsend.
"The highest-in their places! They adorn and beautify the
world —with the world let them  stay. But bring them  not
between me and life's One Purpose —between me and the
Solemn- between me and God."




WHICIH: THE RIGHT, OR TEE LEFT.              227
"But they appear to me appropriate in all public places.
What more touching and impressive, for instance, than this?"
And she pointed to a sculptured monument of a mother weeping for her child.
"Very touching and impressive it would be anywhere but
here! In a hall set apart for statuary, it would be eloquent with
beauty and with thought. Here its beauty, force, and sugges.
tiveness, are lost!"
Mrs. Townsend regarded him with amazement.
"'Because," said Samuel, "the Real is more significant and impressive than the Ideal; because it is placed here, not to illustrate a beautiful thought, but to be seen; because it is not here a
picture of a touching conception, but a flaunting sign of desire,
on the part of her who erected it, to be considered tender, gentle,
and interestingly melancholy.
"Observe the words"'MARY, ONLY CHILD OF MRS. EDITH WARREN-AGED FOUR
YEARS. My child, thy widowed mother mourns for thee.'
" What more significant-a widow, with a tender heart, pines
in singleness, and yearns to be comforted!  Making even of the
grave of her little one a medium through which to communicate her marketableness to the public! Does genuine affection
expose its sorrows to a gaping world? Grief is solemn, grief is
sacred; it is for privacy, not show: it unveils itself, in silence,
and to Himt, alone!
"But would you see real eloquence?  Look there!"
And he pointed to a row of five green graves, without mark
or stone.
"There is death, in all its solemn sternness, all its impressive
silence, all its shrinking modesty; with no intervening thing to
intercept its stirring suggestiveness, or its eloquent lesson. Compare its touching homily with that of the young widow who
flaunts her sorrows in your face, and bids you think cf her, and




228'WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
not of the wholesome moral lesson which is taught by the
mouldering forms that lie beneath the sod!
"It is well for the heart that dwells amid the temptations
of the world, to look, now and then, upon the silent habitations
of the dead. It weans him from the concentration of his mind
upon perishable things; it reminds him whither lhe is hastening,
and bids him think of it; warning him, in the same moment,
that he, too, shall, ere long, make another of the grave-yard host
who are dissolving into nothingness, and returning to their
original dust.
" But gorgeous Greenwood tells us nothing of all this. Greenwood-to which society brings its dead, not for burial, but for
show. Greenwood-which feeds the eye, which ministers to
pride, but not to the soul. Greenwood —which takes away our
homage from God, turns it insensibly into simple curiosity, and
imbues us with an untimely respect for art, and taste; and wealth,
and pomp, and pride.
"Gorgeous Greenwood teaches us that which the cemetery
should never teach —respect for human vanity. These bewildering paths, these artificial dells, these pretty glens, these gentle
slopes, these charming acclivities, these sylvan mounts, and shades,
and lakes, with all their royal garniture of granite, iron, stone,
and marble, cut into a thousand forms, beginning with the simple,
continuing with the noble, the lovely, the sublime, and terminating with the grotesque-step in between us and the solemn, turn
our thoughts from the immortal to the mortal, inspire us with
conceptions not of human impotence, but of human grandeur,
lead us from the contemplation of the Great Beyond to that of
the decaying Present, and point us, as it were, back to the world
that we have temporarily left, as the great aim and eternal
abiding-place of man!
"I find no fault with Art. It is good. It has its uses, its
meanings, and its hallowing influences. But let it remain in its




WHICH: THE RIGHT, oR THE LEFT.              229
place. Let it not step in between me and the Solemn. Keep
it in its place. We can appreciate it there! But keep it away
from the habitations of the dead. Let it not deprive the grave
of its high and stirring moral!"
"Lo! in the world, what is the one lesson taught to all who will
lend an ear? PRIDE. What the sermon preached at church
before the pastor has said a single word? Pride —pomp, glitter,
fashion! What the incentive in man to climb to riches by falsehood, knavery, and craft? Pride. Pride-which drives firom him,
step by step, all the solemn, all the nobler qualities, retaining
only the baser. Is this wise, is it generous, is it noble? Owe we
not something to the better part of us-should we pay eternal
tribute only to the viler?
"But as the world while in the world, is not enough. We
must still be showy, still vaunt our folly and our weakness, when
no longer of it. We must perforce exhibit it in the GRAVE!
"Look around —at this myriad of wild fantastic monuments
and vaults, each struggling madly with the other for precedence
in-what?
"The eyes of the few gay idlers who come here to toy away
an hour!
"Of what do they tell us? Of the wholesome moral lesson
of the slumbering dead?
"No.
"But of the frivolousness, the mental imbecility, and the overpowering pride of the yet livnyg!'" Is it not enough that we parade our brazen egotism before
the world-must we make a show of it even in the tomb?
"What! plant in the skeleton hands of our dead a flaunting
banner of our own shame!
"And yet for more than eighteen hundred years man has
heard the Christian precept of Humility!
" And yet they who thus invite the eye of the moralist to their




230       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
effrontery, walk, doubtless, every Sabbath, up to the House of
God, and listen with complacency to the Word which teaches us
meekness-not arrogance; modesty-not brazenness; earnestness-not frivolity!
"Lo! here, as in the world, bloated Wealth and insolent Pride
mock Poverty and Meekness.  The Ionic temple looks down
with haughty eye upon the humble grave whose green sod is its
only ornament. The marble obelisk lifts its proud head in
solemn mockery beside the plain, unassuming slab, which, perchance, covers a better and nobler heart. While the pretentious,
cloud-piercing shaft, with its broad base and brazen cap, stands
memorial of one who, most like, with all his riches, never
dropped a tear to misery, nor gave a shilling to rescue a brother
from hunger or distress!
" The aristocracy of the world? —Revolting! But the aristocracy of the grave?  Humiliating!
"Lo, around us millions of dollars, in fancy monuments! and
vaults, and dells, and glens, and shades, and paths, and mounts,
and lakes, and effects-all appealing to the eye, filling the mind
with wonderment, curiosity, and admiration; depriving death of
its solemnity; surrounding it with a mingled air of romance and
business, converting it into a matter of little or no moment, and
making the place of the sepulchre a place of resort for the sauntering idler to smoke his cigar, the rider to try the bottom of his
horse, the lover to whisper fond words to his mistress, the
stranger to gratify his curiosity, the amateur to take sketches,
the world to look at its monumental curosities and delightful
situations, and the moralist to mourn over the littleness of Pride
and its sickening display.
" Lo! the time when an humble grave-yard-guileless of mazy
paths, and romantic shades, and sylvan dells, and gorgeous vaults,
and flaring monuments-subdued the heart to awe, and inspired




WHICIH: THE RIGHT, OR TltEh LEFT.            231
it, when looking upon the modest habitations of the dead, to
commune, in holy reverence, with God!
" Then pride was content to display its tinsel, its presumption,
and its shame, in the world's domain, alone. Death's dominions
were sacred, ever, to the impious and profane; whoso approached its precincts bowed in pious lowliness to its hallowing
and impressive lesson.
"Then, as pride looked on the green, half-sunken grave, and
listened to the eloquence of its silent teachings, it lost all memory of its gilt, its rouge, its dollars, its vanity, and its arrogance,
and imbibed honest thoughts and stirring memories of good
things forgotten long ago!"
C HAPTER XVI.
IN the evening, Samuel called again upon the laundress, with
whom he concluded a temporary arrangement for the support of
his eleve, the little orphan.
This done, he returned home, and wrote a letter to his parents.
He described, clearly and minutely, the circumstances which had
eventuated in constituting him the child's protector; expressed
his appreciation of the responsibility of his trust; and tenderly
solicited for her, at his own expense, a place in the affections and
tranquillity of the parsonage, where she would be surrounded by
a pure moral atmosphere, until he should himself be in a position to take her under his own immediate care and supervision.
In a few days, Samuel received, as he expected, a warm,




232      VWHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
affectionate, and favorable reply; and in forty-eight hours after
its receipt, the little orphan was taking tea at the parsonage.
"The dear creeter!" exclaimed Aunt Betsy, after the little
ones had been put to rest for the night.  " She will make a nice
sister for dear little. Joe. We must be good to her, for Samuel's
sake!"
"And for her own," said Mrs. Leland.  "She is an orphan."
"And for I-Is!" said the pastor, reverently.
Three excellent reasons, which soon had their effect upon little
Ada, who learned, ere long, to forget everything but the happy
family of which she was now a member.
Little Joe welcomed her with a burst of rejoicing from his
pipe; and for a week, his solitary tune went off into all sorts of
variations, invariably returning to the starting-point, and then
gliding off into the old tune itself, and from that into another
variation, and from that back again, till the old tune had taken
journeys enough to fairly entitle it to the reputation of a fine old
traveller that had seen all the world, and more too, and was now
going to sit down, take it easy, and rest upon its laurels, respectably, like a gentleman.
The De Witts, the Smiths, and the Jenkinses were by no
means grieved to learn that their orphan niece, " the little Jones,"
had found a protector, who would take upon himself the responsibility of her education and support. Their only feeling in the.
matter was, that that protector was simply, as Mrs. De Witt expressed it, "a poor dry goods  clerk, whose prospects were no
better than his pocket, and who, if all that people said of him
was true, was so stupid as to spend his earnings-which were
little enough —upon wretches who ought to be either in the
hospital or the alms-house!"
In his private affairs, all went well with Samuel. At home,
abroad, in the drawing-rooms of the rich, or the homely apartments of the poor, he was alike exerting an influence for good.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                 233
In his business matters, he was advancing calmly, but steadily.
Naturally clear-headed and methodical, whatever he undertook
to do, he desired to do understandingly and well.  Hence, while
his progress was not so apparently iapid as that of many of his
fellow-clerks, it was, in reality, greater, because it was thorough,
while that of the others was, in the main, simply superficial.
Thus, when removed from one department to another, he was a
complete master of the one which he had left. He knew all its
duties and all its articles, in all their details-understandingly.
He had a thorough knowledge of all the nice distinctions, not
only in each variety of staple and fancy goods, but also of each
individual article in that variety.  He could tell, at a glance, the
graduating character of its threads, and its finish; the relative
depth, strength, and durableness of its color; the comparison it
would bear to other fabrics of a corresponding character; the
causes of its strength or weakness, of its superiority or inferiority, and all the gradations of such causes; of the gradations in
their respective merits, of the various varieties of staple goods,
their prices, and the peculiar districts where each was most in
demand; of the character of the changes which were constantly
going on in the several varieties, and the peculiarities of those
which never changed'; of the comparative value of absolutely
old, moderately recent, and positively new goods; of the various shades in colors, and the gradations in those shades; of the
gradations in positively genuine and only imitation fabrics, as
well as in those which were so skilfully wrought as to partake
of either, to suit the necessity of the dealer; of their asking
prices, and the abatements which they would suffer and still
leave profit; of the variations and distinctive character in
thread, color, and make, between foreign and native goods; of
the comparative standing, popularity, and saleableness of each;
which stood and sold upon their own merits, and which required
"pushing;'" which paid the most, and which the least, profit;




234      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
which were kept as baited hooks with which to fish for " other
trade," and which " thrown in," to show the liberality of the
house; and the names, localities, and comparative honestypositive, medium, or negative-of their several manufacturers,
as evidenced in the distinctive qualities of their respective goods.
In " selling," Samuel gave at first but little promise. For a
few months, he was rather below than up to the average of new
clerks; and it was sneeringly remarked that he would never
reach the dignity nor the salary of a " crack" salesman. The
reason, according to Mr. Brigham, the confidential clerk, who,
for some cause or other, did not regard our hero with a favorable eye, was plain: " He was not made for the business."  The
trouble appeared to be that he would not lie. As First Broadcloth expressed it, "he was too honest-altogether." He had
" conscientious scruples," which would not permit him to represent an article a hair's breadth above its merits, for the sake of
" working it off."  When asked by a dealer if a certain fabric
was "imported," when he knew that it was only imported from
one of the four States of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, or New Jersey, he was very apt to tell the truth, sale or no
sale, and very much to the disgust of First Broadcloth, who
"could not understand how he could be such a ninny."  When
asked if such and such articles were French or English, when he
knew that they were neither, but simply domestic products, he
had a habit of telling the truth, which sometimes choked off their
sale, but did not choke him. When requested to give the lowest net prices of any particular kind of goods, he did so by going
down to the lowest mark at once,-a proceeding which sometimes resulted in a sale, and sometimes did not, but one which
generally won the confidence of the dealer, and induced hi:m,
when he called again, to look up "the young gentleman who
was so particular"-rather choosing to buy of one who preferred
the truth to a bill, than of one who preferred a bill to the truth.




WHiICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              285
In this way, Samuel created many friends, and few or no foes.
City and country dealers who made a purchase of him once,
favored him, most generally, with a second trial; and, as they
invariably found that his statements bore the tests of time and
examination, in every particular, they " stood by him" in trade
It was not, therefore, necessary for him to " watch the arrivals"
and "nab" his customers, when they came again to town. They
returned to him of their own accord, in spite of the " flattering
inducements" of salesmen of other houses, who "laid for them"
with all the cunning of foxes, and " hung to'em" with the tenacity of bloodhounds. But in vain. The dealers "knew their
men" and their man. Samuel was " safe"-who bought of him
once, bought of him twice; " once a customer, always a custoiner."
In business parlance, all this " told," in time-slowly it may
be, but steadily; and not more steadily than surely. One drop
shows but little in a bucket; but a regular succession of drops
fill it by-and-bye to the brim. Calmly, then, steadily, then, and
without noise, ostentation, or parade, Samuel passed tranquilly
on; gaining knowledge, experience, and a friend or two, at each
step; laying a broad, substantial foundation for future operations; and manfully maintaining his probity and his spiritual
trust, bravely and faithfully, on the way.
His fellow-clerks were somewhat slow, at first, to comprehend
the chances of his success. " He is a good fellow," they would
say, with a knowing wink; "but not made for the dry goods
business. He is pious, amiable, and good-natured-a first-rate
fellow in heart and manner, but rather tender in the upper story.
Thinks money can be made in our business without oil (anglice,
lying), soft soap, and gimleting (anglice, gouging). Green, sir
-green as the verdure of his native hills!"
But somehow or other, these remarks, which were very common for a year or so, fell gradually into disuse, and ceased, by



236       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
and-bye, altogether. In fact, it was noticed that Samuel was
not so very unsuccessful, after all. He did make some sales;
and it was also observed, that city dealers who bought of him
once, came again, and again, and always bought of him-every
time.
The clerks pricked up their ears.
And some one else-Charley Gibbs-noticed, that the country
dealers within short distances of the city, who made a bill of
Samuel once, did precisely like the city dealers-they called
again, and again, and always bought of him-Samiuel.  And as
Charley Gibbs was very friendly to Samuel, he took care to impart the result of his observation to the rest, andThe clerks turned their eyes, askant, at each other.
By-and-bye, First Broadcloth made the interesting discovery
that eighteen New York, nine New Jersey, seven Pennsylvania, three Vermont, six Canada, twelve Ohio, eight Missouri,
eleven Indiana, three Kentucky, six Illinois, nine Wisconsin, four
Iowa, seven Georgia, and four South Carolina dealers had not
only repeated their calls and orders on Samuel, but had also
each introduced a brother dealer to him, all of whom bought, and
all of whom promised to do what they could in bringing him
other customers. He (First Broadcloth) knew it to be so, "because he had seen, heard, and counted'em."
The clerks looked down-thoughtfully.
And then they began to think that perhaps Samuel's system
was not so very stupid, after all. They didn't know; but they
thought so. They might be wrong; there was no saying; but of
one thing they were certain —their customers didn't stick by
them so steadily, nor take a great deal of trouble to make others
for them. They had an idea that they could say that-safely.
And yet they didn't know. Samuel's way wasn't the regular
way of doing things. They had been in the business a good
many years, and they had never done it in that fashion, nor seen




WH:ICH: TIE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             237
others do it in that way either. And yet, somehow, it-woRICED.
There was no mistake in that. It did APPEAR to work. And
Samuel did seem to get along, and make fair bills, too. There
was that bill which he made up yesterday with that Ellicottville fellow: it figured up over a thousand dollars —the second
bill which Ellicottville had made with him. And yet Samuel
didn't seem to think much of it, either: as if he was used to it.
The clerks were bothered.
At what, they didn't exactly know. The system of telling the
truth did work; they saw that; anybody could see it; and yet
they couldn't understand it. The idea of " doing things on the
square" in —DRY GOODS! It was so amusing. Of course they
always pretended to " do things up right" with customers; it was
expected of them; but then not exactly in Samuel's way. Who
ever heard of a clerk not " putting a dealer through" in the right
way-all he could? How could he make anythilng, if he didn't?
Men don't do business for nothing. If a dealer is soft enough to
let a man " stick" him, he ought to be stuck.  Every clerk will
admit that.  And why not?  What are dealers made for 
Besides, how is a fellow to live, if he don't use a little oil and,imlet occasionally?  Where's the profit going to come from,
if you don't make it?  And how can you make it, if you are
squeamish? Bah! It can't be done. Do you suppose a country
buyer would pay such prices for Lowell prints, if you didn't make
him believe that they had come all the way from France, and
that you were three weeks in getting them through the customhouse? No, sir-he'd make you knock off a discount that would
give you the yellow jaunders for a week. Bah! It's all humbug. AMoney isn't made in that way!
And yet Samuel's system does work; and he don't use oil,
soft soap, or gimlets.
Ye-yes. That's it.  He does make sales and cnstomers,
too. And yet —well, there's nio saying what won't turn up next!




238       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
When a man can do business on the square in dry goods, then
look out for any thing, and don't be surprised.
But Samuel-Samuel! HoW'about him?  lie's in dry goods
-isn't he? He sells, and on the square, too-don't he?
There it is!  But how does he do it? That's the question.
I couldn't do it —you couldn't do it.  And he can. There
it is!
But why not? It is simply to tell the truth instead of a lie
-which even the dealer knows to be a lie. That is common
sense, isn't it? If Samuel can make trade that way, why can't
we?
There's the trouble. Samuel can stick to the truth, because
it's natural to him. Everybody knows that, and expects it of
him. But we-we are not accustomed to it-it wouldn't
answer.
Why?
A pretty question! How would it sound to a dealer, to tell
him that our French shawls are not imported; that they are
made here? What would he say? And suppose we should let
him know that our French de laines, which we have been selling him all along for French, came all the way from Connecticut, what would he say to that? He wouldn't swear any —oh,
no! Nor take away his trade altogether-oh no, not at all!
He'd say we were first-rate fellows —perfect trumps, and make
tremendous bills of us. O yes —certainly-over the left!
This was a clincher. The clerks couldn't get over it, and
they concluded to "continue in the good old way;" that is, to
serve their country friends " right" —wrong!
In the meanwhile, Samuel went on in his way, and the system
worked to a charm. It was something so new and rare to dealers
to find a salesman who carried his Christianity into his business,
that they couldn't help speaking of it. Men will talk of noveltis! Speaking of it led to letters of introduction, the letters




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              239
of introduction led to Samuel, the two led to trade, and the
trade led to bills. This was Mr. Townsend's method of reasoning the matter, and he was not'very far out of the way, in his
commercial logic-generally.
Charley Gibbs reasoned the point over, too, and as he was a
fellow of some moral spirit, and never much given to extravagance in anything-not evendin business lying-he privately concluded to give Samuel's system a trial, on his own account.
The result was slow, but not less sure: and ere long, he detected
First Broadcloth at the same game. Shortly after, First Cotton
fell into it-sneakingly like, as if he felt ashamed of it; but
after a while, a little more openly, and then boldly, like a man
who knew what was right, and wasn't afraid to do it, or say it
either.
The other clerks opened their eyes, and reflected. In time,
they began to regard each other suspiciously; and then tothink; and then to venture upon the system carefully, as they
thought, and-privately, and then by degrees not quite so privately, and then they found that the plan worked-soMEHOW.
But still they noticed at the same time that Samuel's customers continued to increase; that, in fact, although their own business improved under the new system, his went ahead the fastest.
Not that he had more customers than they, but that he made
more new ones than they did; that his men appeared to have
more confidence in him, than theirs did in them; and that his
"friends" rolled up bigger bills than theirs did. They did not
understand this at first; but the reason was comprehensible in
time: Samuel was the great ORIGINAL. His name had "got up"
first. They were only imitators.
But that made no difference.  The imitation PAID, and far
better, too, than the old plan. This was with them the MAIN
point.
At length, however, the system began to bear its legitimate




240      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
fruits.  Many of the clerks who had at first taken hold of the
truth as a mere matter of policy, found it in time so pleasant,
that they adopted it, one after another, from principle. Upon
reaching this point, they made a discovery, viz.: that truth as a
principle elevated their thoughts, strengthened their self-confidence, and inspired them with a feeling to which they had previously been strangers-M-RAL  STAMINA. The delightfulness of
this high feeling made MEN of them; —imbued them with a
solemn consciousness of their individual duties as men to their
fellow-men, to themselves, to that great principle which has so
few friends-Truth, and to that principle's creator-The August.
By-and-bye this portion of the clerks and Samuel became,
by degrees, very friendly. They appeared to understand each
other, to entertain an excellent feeling for one another, to counsel
with each other, and to hold little meetings together, nights,
down stairs, in the packing-room-Bill Bradley's department,
and where that worthy was as much of a monarch as any President or King; and, like a good-natured potentate, he graciously
accorded his permission to the " up-stairers" to hold their evening
meetings in his royal hall as often as they liked, also authorizing
them to use his empty packing-boxes for seats, and his packingtable to sit around; himself joining them, sometimes, and wondering in his silent, meditative way, at the great change which
had come over "the spirit of their dreams."': There's Tom Rickets," mused the wondering packer, "who
used to dress so loud (anglice, flashily), with his knowin' hat,
his green coat, his plaid vest, his great long guard-chain, his blue
pants and his pattern (patent) leathers-Lord, how he's altered!
Nice suit of plain black, now —just like a gen'leman. And
Bill Rider, too, without his loud choker.  Well, I wouldn't
have believed it, if I'd only heered tell on't.  And Frank Tisdale, without his cigar! And Joe Thompson, without his eternal
string of oaths, and his talk about the women, and brandy




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               241
punches, and races, and fast teams, and sparrin' matches, and
bluff! And Tomn Davenport, without his cigar stump, and his
gas about that little actress! And Charley Gibbs, without his
Miss Nancy airs! And then the other up-stairers —tellin' the
truth for the first time in their lives, and stickin' to it, too! Well
— it's high!  Dry goods have turned round.  It takes me right
down!"
But this was not all. The Samuel boys, as they were called,
were off other nights, sometimes solitarily, and sometimes in
couples-not, as of yore, at balls, theatres, rum saloons, gambling
hells, brothels, or sporting-places, but threading narrow alleys,
diving into damp cellars, climbling narrow staircases, and penetrating garrets-the homes of the friendless and the stricken;
easing the wants of the poor, making glad the hearts of the sorrowing, pelming oil upon the wounds of the sick and feeble,
whispering courage to the despondent, clothing the nlaked, and
leading hearts that had long forgotten Him, back again to Godand finding such pleasure in their voluntary good work as they
had never received firom ball, or spree, or theatre, or gambling
hell, or brothel, and such excitement as they had never experienced in all their lives from whisky-plunches, egg-nogs, brandysmashes, mint-juleps, or gin-slings, and an inward satisfaction and
delight which they would not have exchanged for empires.
The other "boys " had not reached this point; they rarely disturbed the meetings in the packing-room  by their presence,
although they sometimes professed an interest in them. They
continued to adhere to the truth, however, in " selling," because
it-paid.
The "correctness " of the salesmen in the house of John P.
Townsend became known. Ere long it was a common topic in
the trade. Rival houses spoke of it as they would of a good
joke. They were rash enough, for a time, to mention it to their
own customers, as " the last best thing out," and afterwards discovered that their friends had "strayed off" to that very house




242       WHICH: THE, RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
to give its "correct" young gentlemen a trial. Then they
laughed-the other way! Country dealers spoke of it among
teemselves as the greatest wonder in New York; and the report
scattered-in every direction; the jealousy of rival houses helping its diffusion more than any other cause, and, as a " runner "
expressed it, "the thing took." Old customers, who had not
made a bill at the house for years, returned; and new ones at
their heels. The clerks were busy as bees, from morn till dusk,
many of them till late at night.  But as they were as much interested as their employer in the sales, they bore the press of
business patiently. During the fall and spring, while trade
" dragged" at other establishments, dealers remarked that "the
house with the correct clerks" was comparatively overburdened
with business —nay, absolutely " run down."  And when one of
its salesmen appeared in the street, the runners of rival houses
would point him out, sometimes to a customer, and sometimes
to one another, saying, with mixed envy and interest —" There
goes one of John P. Townsend's' correct' boys!"
The "correct boys" became famous-Samuel particularly.
The clerks of rival houses regarded them with jealousy-the
heads of rival houses with marked affability and manifest interest. Indeed, the latter were only too happy to meet and treat
them with uncommon urbanity. But the " correct boys" understood the meaning of their condescending attentions.  "They
were not to be caught." "They did very well at Mr. Townsend's-very well-as well as they desired to." On discovering
which fact, the heads of the rival houses ceased their condescending importunities, and returned to their usual dignity.
The " correct boys" were not to be seduced from their allegiance to John P. Townsend. He paid well-it was his policy;
and as he was a far-seeing man, he knew it to be a policy which
would secure the best talent in the market, and enable him to
keep it. His golden motto was visible in all his transactions:
"Who pays well, is served well."  He could afford to laugh at




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              243
the tempting inducements of his rivals to beguile away his clerks
-and he did.
Mr. Townsend was in raptures.
"The old house stands firm," he would say to himself-" firm as
a rock. Everything works in its favor; but truth and honesty most
of all!" And he would laugh in his dry, pleasant way. " Samuel
is a jewel-his piety pays!" and he would rub his sleek, fat hands,
and look pleasantly, through the panes of the partition, at his
small army of " correct boys," who were busy as bees with their
numerous customers, who were also as busy as bees in rolling
up their bills. "Ah!" cried the merchant, surveying the scene
with a proud, half-laughing eye, "there's a sight to make a jobber shout. A rare sight-a great sight-a paying sight! Dear!
-dear! what a blessed thing religion is, and-money!"
There was one gentleman in the house, however, who did not
relish the turn which its affairs were taking-Mr. Brigham, the
confidential clerk. That worthy viewed the new movement with
uneasiness.  It not only boded him no good-it threatened him
with ruin.
For years Mr. Brigham had been to the house of John P.
Townsend what the Premier. is to the British crown-what the
Secretary of State is to the American Cabinet-the man, that is
to say, the confidential clerk. He was-or rather he innocently
flattered himself so-the confidential -clerk, John P. Townsend,
the silent partner, the stock, the business, the everything. He
was THE HOUSE; that is to say, he thought so, and a great many
others thought so, too-the book-keepers, clerks, packers, and
porters, for instance-in fact, everybody in the house, exceptMr. John P. Townsend himself, and the silent partner.  TheyDIDN'T; but they did not publish their opinion. It was therefore
no great wonder if Mr. Brigham entertained that thought, and
that he grew in time to believe it as he would any other thing
which everybody affirmed to be true, and which it was so very




214      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR TIE LEFT.
gratifying to his own feelings to believe. Nor was this all. The
confidential clerk knew himself to be a man of rare talent, which
was very true; that he had, in a measure, built up the house of
John P. Townsend —that is to say, that it was largely owing to
his talent, his energies, his knowledge of the business, and his
influence with city and country dealers, that the house of John
P. Townsend had reached its present high standing and position
— which was equally true; that he was, in fact, although only a
mere confidential clerk, a perfect business giant —which was also
true; that he was known as such to all the great houses in the
dry goods trade, and that either or all of them would be only
too glad to give him even more than he was receiving in the
house of John P. Townsend, for the sake of getting him away
from that house, and into their own~ employ-which was no less
true; that he was a thorough master of his business, and of the
business of John P. Townsend's business also, and that he could
if so disposed, leave the house of John P. Townsend, and carry
with him to any other house a very large proportion of that business —that is to say, the custom patronage, which was, perhaps,
no less true than the rest; that if he was so largely instrumental
in building up the house of John P. Townsend, he could doubtless, if urged either by passion, self-interest, or any other motive, to do so, be equally instrumental in breaking it down —that
he had, in any event, the ability, if so disposed, to do it a serious
amount of harm: —all of which was doubtless partially true, but
not perhaps quite so true or correct as the confidential clerk
fancied it to be.
He was not, however, very far wrong in his estimate of his
own talents, nor in his opinion of the estimate which was placed
upon them by the house. Both Mr. Townsend and the silent
partner did him full justice in this and several other respectsthat is to say, they equally understood and appreciated his
talents and-himself. To keep him in good-humor, they paid him




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                245
well; to flatter his vanity and retain their hold upon him, they
gave to him a certain degree of confidence, a certain degree
of power, and a certain degree of influence-just enough
of each to flatter his self-love, and lead him to believe
that he was all-important, and all-powerful; while to keep
their grip upon him until they should feel themselves sufficiently strong to either send him adrift, or make him understand his place, they pampered him with the hope that they
would, at no distant day, give him an interest in the housethat is, when the house should, through his energies, reach a satisfactory point in its yearly business-at which point, they privately designed to wake himn from  his fond, delusive dream, and
let him-run, and do his worst.  In the meanwhile, they trusted
to a judicious application of flattery to keep him in the traces,
and hold him with a firm, but easy, hand.
But all this was under the old system —the old system, in
which the confidential clerk was so able a master.  The new
movement was bringing about another state of things-altogether. It was popularizing the house in city and country, all
over the Union, in fact, as well as in British America-strengthening the house —augmenting its reputation, its business, and
consequently its profits —and rapidly rendering it entirely independent of HIM —the confidential clerk, of him-the all-powerful!
The gentleman turned pale at the thought; his lips parted,
and his teeth absolutely cowered in terror. And this new system, which was doing such wonders for the house, and threatening him —the till of late all-important —with disaster —who
was it that produced it, wrought it out, set it going?
Who but one who had already given Mr. Brigham some trouble
in another quarter, and threatened him with more still!
Who but the reigning favorite-whose name was in everybody's mouth-whose acquaintance was courted by all in the




246      WHICHir: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
house and in the trade-whom city and country dealers sought
out, as they would some great man who could confer lasting favors upon them-who had accomplished more in his first eighteen
months than most clerks perform in five years-whom the head
of the house, John P. Townsend, appeared to take particular delight in honoring with long familiar interviews in his office, and
who alone, of all the clerks, had the privilege of entering the
office at pleasure, of reading the morning papers there, of sitting
there, and of making himself perfectly at home there, whether
John P. Townsend was in or no. Who but-Samuel!
The name came hissingly through Mr. Brigham's large glistening teeth, which seemed to writhe at it.
Samuel!
The lips all but blistered at its sound.
" If I should take him in hand, now!" continued Mr. Brigham,
musingly.  "What then? Let me see. I have read of a man
who was in power and in peril, as I am. A courtier wasp came
~in his way, and was near to unseating, near to destroying, hinm
What did tLe man do?  Hle put out his hand, while vet it was
strong with the iron panoply of power, and when he drew it
back, the wasp was —cRusuED!"
The teeth wriggled and danced, and appeared to be intoxicated
with wild joy, at the result.
" And I —I," mused Mr. Brigham, " might put out my hand,
and do the like. There are two interests at stake to incite me.
SHIALL I?"
"Oh! do —do!" laughed and danced the teeth. "It would
be glorious fun. Do-do!"
Mr. Brigham was for a long time —ten minutes —a long time
for him — undecided. But at the end of that period his will
was settled.
The teeth sent up a shout in their own way, at the character
of his decision. They hooted, and yelled, and leaped, and rolled,




WHICH: THE RIGLET, OR THE LEFT.              247
and jumped, and screamed, like cannibals round a roasting fire,
with a prisoner, who was timid, and chained, and helpless, burning
at the stake.
The man's cold, gray, cat-like eyes, ever all but closed, from
habit, peered through their half-pent lashes like the sharp, dread
orb-glitter of a basilisk.
The demon of his bold, serpent nature was in that glance. It
boded mischief, wrath, triumph-all in one.
CHAPTER XVII.
"' OH, dear —I shall die!" cried Isabella, laughingly, one afternoon, on her return from a walk.
"Why, my dear —what now'?" asked her aunt, looking up
from an evening paper.' "Oh! dear —such a good thing!" returned Isabella, throwing
off her things, and sinking back upon a lounge.  "You wouldn't
believe it!"
"Believe what, my dear?"
"Samuel —" began Isabella, clapping her hands in the exuberance of her mirth.
"What 6f hint?" asked her aunt, with an air of interest.
"Is on a new tack," cried Isabella, with screaming laughter.
"Oh dear-Oh dear!"
" Indeed? I should have thought that with his poor, and his
packing-room society, he had business enough!"
"I should think so, too, aunt. But his new movement is one
of the wildest, strangest-"




248       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"But what is it?" demanded her aunt.  "What is he doing
now?"
" Trying to convert the ministers!" answered her niece, clapping her hands. "Oh, dear!" placing her hand upon her sides,
" I shall die. I know I shall!"
"I fear," said Mrs. Townsend, after a few moments' reflection, "that Samuel will have his labor for his pains."
"I think so, too!" laughed Isabella.
" Clergymen," continued her aunt, " who need converting —and
the number is by no means small-are the last persons in the
world to be converted.  They get so accustomed to professional
piety, that they become, in time, perfectly coated with it, as a
leaden plate is coated by a surface of copper or silver, through
which nothing can penetrate."
"I think," ventured Miriam, with her usual modest deference,
".that we misjudge the members of that noblest of all professions."
"Only hear our credulous Mirry, aunt!" cried Isabella.
"On what do you base that impression, my dear?" asked
Mrs. Townsend, mildly.
" Yes; do let us hear!" laughed Isabella.
" Upon my conviction of its truthfulness," replied Miriam.
"The world is so fond of taking ungenerous views of God's
people, that when it discovers a single sign of weakness, it exults
over it with a loud shout of rejoicing-never pausing to inquire whether there may not be some fair excuse for that
weakness. And when it descries a single unfaithful member, it
rails out against the entire body! Is this fair?"
"No, my dear. But when it finds that the' unfaithful' ones
are more numerous than the faithful, it has good reason for its
outcry."
" That is too sweeping a charge, dear aunt!" said Miriam, with
gentle reproach. " If you would only examine the subject in a




WHICH: THE  RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              249
spirit of generous candor, you would find the number of the
really unfaithful to be very small indeed!"
"What a dear delightful little innocent!" cried Isabella, jeeringly.
"I do not think so," said Mrs. Townsend.  " If the number
of the faithful ones is so much greater than that of the unfaithfill, why are not more converts made?"
"Because," answered Miriam, " a pastor can do but little unless his efforts are seconded by his people. They expect him to
do the whole of the work, and will not, except in rare instances,
even lend him the influence of their example.  When a stranger
to religion goes to church, and finds himself touched by the holy
utterances of the preacher, he looks around, and finds perhaps a
face or two with which he is familiar. These faces belong to
men or women whom he knows, either in a social or business
way, to be everything but Christians, and he gets the impression
that religion is. a mere farce, since those who profess to be governed by it, are scarcely deserving of respect. Thus the heavenly
drop which fell from the lips of the preacher, dries up and disappears; and thus the good resulting from the labors of the
pastor is neutralized by the unfaithfulness of his people. The
pastor knows this, and yet he bravely struggles on. But this,
although a great, is yet only one of many obstacles with which
he has to contend-all of them arising from his own people;
and yet, in the face of them all, he nobly works on, yearning to
be the instrument of good to many, and yet thankful if he can
be the means of grace to one."
"If that be true," demanded Isabella, "why has Samuel entered upon his crusade against the pulpit infidels 2"
"I think," returned Miriam, " you misapprehend the real character of his movement!"
"Indeed! You think that? How very modest and knowing!"
jeer ed her cousin.




250      WHICH:  THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"What is he doing, then, my dear?" asked Mrs. Townsend,
kindly.
"Encouraging the discouraged," replied Miriam, with a sweet,
glad smile; "waking up those, who, from  any cause, have lost
their enthusiasm, or fallen, insensibly and by degrees, into unfruitful mannerism."
"A hopeless task!" observed Isabella.
"And yet," ventured Miriam, "he has not wholly failed."
"How, my dear?" said her aunt, in surprise.  "You were
aware of this before, and yet withheld the information from us!"
Isabella was at once mortified and indignant. She had flattered
herself that she alone had been the first to discover the young
Christian's new movement; and now"The secret was not mine, aunt," returned Miriam. " It was
imparted to me in confidence."
"But," said her cousin, "now that it is known, I presume, you
are at liberty to give us the name of your informant?"
" Aunt," said Miriam, "would it be proper in me to do so?"
" Why do you ask it,'Bel?" inquired Mrs. Townsend.
"I should like to know," returned the latter, "who is more
in the way of learning Samuel's movements than ourselves?"
"In that case, Mirry, I can see no harm in your mentioning
the name of your friend."
I had the information from Fanny Adriance," said Miriam.
"Who got it, of course, from Charley Gibbs," observed Isabella. "I see it all, now!"
" But you were saying, Mirry, that Samuel had had some success in his new idea?"
"Yes, aunt. He has won the love and confidence of seven
worthy clergymen, who are very grateful to him for his kind encouragement and assistance."
"Is that all " asked Isabella, contemptuously.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                251
" No, coz. They have woke up, taken hold of their work with
fresh vigor, enthusiasm, and earnestness; and-"
"With what result?" interrupted her impatient cousin.
"The happiest," replied Miriam, joyfully. " To the agreeable
surprise of the majority of the members of their congregations,
who, at the gentle but stirring solicitation of Samuel, who has
seen them separately, as well as jointly, have also started from
their lethargy, and come up to the support of their pastors, who,
finding themselves encouraged by their people, have risen up, in
all the strength and power of their pious might, and are now
dealing, every Sabbath, brave and successful blows for our Lord
and Redeemer."
"' Brave blows!'" repeated Isabella, with a dry, cutting smile.
" One of Samuel's phrases!"
" It is a striking one,'Bel!" said her aunt, for the purpose of
giving Miriam an opportunity to recover from the blushing confusion into which she had been thrown by her cousin's satirical
remark.
"Oh, aunt," laughed Isabella, "I have no fault to find with
anything of Samnuel's.  But now that he has taken the subject
up, I should be glad to have him  give Mr. Engold-our own
pastor-a little stirring up. It would improve him /"
"In what respect?" asked her aunt, with a lurking smile.
"In many," answered Isabella.
"Come-come,'Bel, specify!"
"I think," said Isabella, with a mischievous glance at her
cousin, whom she knew to be exceedingly sensitive at the slightest disrespectful reference to her pastor, " he needs arousing! I
always fancy, when listening to him, that he is more mindful of
the euphony of his periods than he is of the salvation of his
hearers!"
" Is there any harm in a preacher's showing himself a scholar V"
asked Miriam.




252        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Very great harm indeed, cousin, when, as in Mr. Engold's
case, he makes that his principal business!"
"That is a grave charge,'Bel, to make against one's own minister!" observed her aunt.
" Oh, it isn't mine alone!" returned Isabella. " Everybody says
so-that is," she added, with an arch smile at her cousin, "everybody who does not stand in awe of him because he is their pastor! I have heard uncle, for instance, say it a hundred times;
and Mr. Crittenden, also; and they ire pretty good authorities,
I imagine!"
"I esteem guardy and Mr. Crittenden very much," said Miriam, gently; "but I think they are wrong in this."'And I think they are right!" rejoined Isabella.
"Frankly, cousin?" asked Miriam.
"Frankly!"
Miriam's brow became saddened.
" More than that," continued her cousin. " I have never fancied
that Mr. Engold was even a converted man!"
" Oh, cousin —cousin! You are cruel!"
" In what?  For speaking what I think?"
"No!" answered Miriam; "but for speaking so unkindly of
one of God's agents!"' His own agent, rather!" retorted Isabella.
Miriam looked at her imploringly.
" Now don't, don't, coz!" she said. " I will take it as a favor
if you won't talk so!"
" Pshaw! Nonsense!" exclaimed Isabella, impetuously. " I'll
say what I think! I am my own mistress, I presume!"
"True, dear cousin!  But there are subjects which, it ap.
pears to me, we should never touch, even so lightly-that is, I
mean, with a single disrespectful breath. And this is one of
them!"




WHICHi: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             250
"Are clergymen any better than other people 2" demanded
Isabella, impatiently.
"Yes, dear cousin," replied Miriam, gently, "because they
are the ambassadors of Our Prince!"
"Not when they do their own work, instead of their Master's!"'Oh, cousin —dear cousin! don't talk so, don't. You hurt
me!-1 will give you anything, do anything for you, if you only
won't!"7
"Miriam-" said Isabella, surveying her sternly
"Well, cousin?"
"You are wrong!"
"Oh, no-cousin.  Oh, no-don't say so. I wouldn't hurt
your feelings for the world!"
"You are wrong, I tell you, to permit your prejudices or your
feelings to blind your judgment! If you want to pass for a thinking, reasoning being, you must give your mind free, untrammelled play, and believe in the evidence of your eyes!"
"I see well enough already, dear cousin," replied Miriam;
"and what I see makes me very happy. I am content with
that."
" Your prejudices blind you, coz!"
"Don't say so, dear'Bel-don't!"
"I will say so, when I think it!"
"Then you may, dear cousin-you may. Say what you will
of me, and to me, but don't speak slightingly of the workmen of
our Prince!"
" I am doing nothing of the kind, Mirry. I am speaking of
one whom I, in common with many others, regard as his own
workman. If I thought for a single moment that Mr. Engold
was one of GOD'S ministers, I would cut off my right hand sooner
than breathe one word against him!"
"' If he be not one of GOD'S preachers," asked Miriam, with a
bewildered air, "whos~~ then, is he?'"




254       WHICH: THE RIGHT  OR THE LEFT.
SOCIETY'S!" returned Isabella, with a freezing smile.  "That
is his only God and Master!"
"Oh, cousin-cousin!"
"I see him with a stranger's eye, and not his dupe's!" said
Isabella, coldly.  "He uses the pulpit, not to serve his Maker's
interests, but-his own /! His discourses exhibit, not the burning
earnestness of an ambassador of Christ, but the scholarly accomplishments of Henry Enyold!  Mark, with what an air of studied
dignity he rises before the sacred desk; with what studied rhetoric he invokes Divine Grace; with what studied elegance
and grandeur he commences his discourse, which he has polished
to the silvery smoothness of a graceful, but soulless poem; with
what studied mellifluousness he reads, not his sermon, but his
masterly literary composition; how studiedly he meanders
through this soft, gurgling rill of-dry emptiness; how gracefully he gesticulates, how gracefully he articulates-the graceful
cadences of his oily voice falling on the silken ears of his complacent hearers like strains of lulling music, to the close; when,
the doxology over, he, with a mingled air of studied gracefulness,
benignity, and honeyed sweetness, sends his auditors home toponder upon their good fortune in possessing so charming a rhetorician, so polished a scholar, and so accomplished a gentleman for
their preacher P"
Mrs. Townsend smiled; Miriam was full of sadness.
" You are unkind, cousin!" she said.
"1 have no doubt you think so," returned Isabella; "still I am
satisfied, and so is aunt, and uncle, and Mr. Crittenden, and every.
body else, who have ever heard Mr. Engold, and are independent enough to speak what they think and know, that I have not
overdrawn his Sunday portrait."
" Do you think so, aunt?" asked Miraim.
"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Townsend, "I incline to the
opinion that, Bel is nearer right than wropg."




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               255
"There, coz!" cried Isabella, triumphantly.
Miriam looked at them alternately for a few moments, like
one bewildered, and then shaking her head, observed, with modest
diffidence-: I have experienced great comfort from Mr. Engold's preaching, and have ever found it full of sweetness and of goodness!"
"I doubt it not, my dear," said her aunt, kindly. "To an
organization like yours, auy discourse that had in it a single grain
of piety, would seem full of Christian beauty.'Bel and I can
comprehend that. But we are sterner, and more rigorous in our
demands. We require a sermon to possess, not a single grain,
but to be wholly made up of, and imbued with, the spirit of
Divine Truth!"
"There, coz! What have you got to say now?"
"I have a great respect for aunt's superior knowledge, observation, and experience," answered Miriam, " and for yours too
dear cousin; but I still think that Mr. Engold is a loyal servant
to his Prince. If I thought otherwise, I should be unhappy!"
"But only look at it once," said Isabella. " Whom has Mr.
Engold been instrumental in saving?  He has been our pastor
for five years, and where are the fruits of his labors?  He
preaches his flowery homilies year in and year out, to the same
number of exclusives-that is, if they don't run away, like Mr.
Jones or Mrs. Clarke!-and without accomplishing anything.
Point, if you can, to a single soul that he has startled from its
dream of sin, or to a single heart that he has turned from its evil
ways to God?"
" Surely," cried Miriam, " Mr. Engold has brought some members to the church. Don't you remember how many vacant
pews we used to have before he became our pastor? And they
are all filled now, and have been for a long time.  That is some
evidence in his favor-is it not?"
"Yes," answered Isabella, "to his talent! But you forget that




256      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
these pews have all been rented by new arrivals among our
fashionables, who have taken them, in part because ours is a
fashionable church, and because Mr. Engold is a fashionable
preacher, and in part because they like to have it known and
said that they belong to the' Church of the Exclusives!'"
" I still think," persisted Miriam, with generous confidence in
her pastor, "that you do Mr. Engold great injustice!"
" I am astonished at your blind infatuation, coz!" said Isabella.
"You put me out of all patience!"
"I don't mean to hurt your feelings, dear'Bel.  I really
don't! But I cannot help thinking that our pastor is a good
man. Haven't you ever noticed how tenderly solicitous he is
for his parishioners 2"
"Doubtless, coz," mocked Isabella; "for without his parish.
ioners, where would himself be!"'
"That is unfair!" returned Miriam, with a gentle smile of
mingled sweetness and reproach. "Because Mr. Engold's great
talent alone would secure him as good, if not a better, position,
anywhere!"
"His talent would, doubtless!" sneered her cousin.
"It was only a few months ago," continued Miriam, " when a
church in Boston offered him a thousand dollars more per year
than we were paying him, if he would only resign his post with
us, and become their pastor. But he nobly resisted the temptation-"
"And showed the letter to our trustees," interrupted Isabella,
mockingly, "who agreed to add fifteen hundred to his salary, iy
he would stay! A noble resistance against temptation, truly!"
Miriam dropped her eyes in mingled anguish and bewilderment.
"And it is even suspected," continued the pitiless Isabella,
"that Mr. Engold got a friend in that city to manage the Boston
church into the offer, so that he could use it as a weapon with




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR TiHE LEFT.              257
which to beguile us into an increase of his salary! Guardy
and the other trustees smilingly term it a'smart financial
operation.' "
"Aunt," said Miriam imploringly, "What do you think?"
"I agree with the general sentiment upon the subject," returned Mrs. Townsend, with a smile which she could not wholly
repress.
" That this ungenerous suspicion is true." asked Miriam.
"No, my dear; that the operation was pretty shrewd!" returned her aunt, slily. "As to the correctness of the suspicion,
I have nothing to say!"
"Still you have an opinion?" asked Isabella.
"Yes," returned Mrs. Townsend, slowly.
" And it concurs with that of guardy."
"We should always respect the opinions of an experienced
mind-particularly when it is that of one's husband!" was the
laughing but dubious reply.
Miriam shook her head.
"You are still skeptical?" demanded Isabella, with a cold,
pitiless sneer.' No, cousin," returned Miriam, with an expresssion of rare
sweetness: "1 have still the same trusting confidence in my
pastor! He has come to me in my Redeemer's name; he has
said words of comfort to my soul; he has suggested to me many
a pleasant thought; he has often led me to the presence of my
Prince; and, come weal, come woe, I will stand by him! I say
not that he has not his faults-for all are liable to err. But I
do know that he has come to me in my Redeemer's name; that
he has a good and kindly heart; that he is loving, affectionate,
and gentle; that he aims to do the will of Him that sent him;
and that he does it to the best of his ability. For these reasons
I have faith in him; for these I will be steadfast to him: and
never shall I utter a breath to tarnish his manly or ministerial




258     WHICH: THIE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
fame! If I knew that he had a weakness which stood in the
way of his success as an agent of our common Lord, I would
point it out to him, saying,'For this, our Prince and you are
reviled;' and-so noble is he —he would put it, at once, away.
But not knowing of it, and believing him to be a true and legitimate messenger from my Prince, I will receive him as such,
have confidence in him, and treat him ever with the love, respect,
and deference which are due to every envoy from on High!"
Isabella surveyed her cousin with smiling astonishment; never
before had she seen her so energetic or impassioned, never before
so brightly beautiful.
"Mirry is right," observed Mrs. Townsend, thoughtfully.
" We have judged our pastor too severely."
The announcement, at this moment, of a visitor, interrupted
and put an end to the subject.




CHAPTER XVIII.
ONE morning, Mr. Townsend received a letter from his wandering partner, announcing his approaching return, and winding
up as follows: —
"I am pleased beyond measure to learn the results to the
house of Samuel's piety. Pray, don't take this for humbugI said to the house. Like you, my boy, I have an exalted opinion
of paying piety. Still I like Samuel's piety for another reason:
it is so genuine, and so rare. He is a great man, in his waythat is, a great good man; and I am not ashamed to say that I
would give worlds to be like him. Make the most of that confession, old partner mine in business iniquity and humbug. Do
you remember what a lacing the fellow gave me the first time I
ever saw him, in the cars? I little dreamed, then, that my conqueror designed to take his business degrees in our house, and
still less that the moral influence of his piety would be felt so
sensibly upon its trade. And this leads me to an idea, viz.: Is the
present system of fraud, falsehood, and humbug in business the
only paying one 2 Is business necessarily wedded to that system?
Is it not possible for men to do business on the square-as they
and we all profess to do, but as they and we do not? The happy
results of Samuel's movement answer the latter' question in a
manner which leaves no room for doubt; and I begin to have
faith in it, although it upsets the views which I have entertained
all along. Make the most you can of this confession, also. The
fact is, partner, there is, after all, even in trade, a tremendous
moral influence in Honesty, and it is a paying influence at that,
depend upon it.
(259)




260       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"I have a great desire to take hold of our young business
reformer, and draw him out. You cannot conceive the width
of the fellow's reputation. I hear of him everywhere. The
dealers talk of him as of a great commercial wonder. Of course
all this must tell, and I rejoice to learn that it is telling, largely,
for the house. And so you are doing a tremendous fall trade?
Good. How it must make our rivals groan! Honesty payseh? Thanks to Samuel! We must do the right thing by our
young friend; but I know your business policy is founded upon
correct views, and so I will not enlarge upon that point-a hint
is sufficient.
" In case you should see fit to honor my return with one of my
favorite converzationes, be kind enough to remember my gallery
of living portraits. If any new ones have turned up in my absence, run them in. I wish to exhibit them to Samuel, and get
his opinion of their merits. I am curious to observe the effect
of tinsel in contrast with the legitimate article. You know my
weakness-my propensity for drawing out character. I like to
play upon little minds, and bring their humbug to the surface.
I sometimes think that I am myself as great a humbug as the
rest. But no matter. One must amuse himself
"I shall be home on the 20th. You can make your arrangements for the converzatione, portrait gallery and all, accordingly.
But pray don't invite anybody who is respectable except yourself, your fair lady, Miriam, and Samuel. I feel a deep interest
in the latter, and wish to show him of what wretched-stuff
human nature is made up.
"An you love me, don't let that miserable bag of rubbishIsabella-ensnare our favorite. Turn her over to her old flane,
Brigham; he is worthy of her. They would make a glorious
pair! If they should marry and be blessed with sons-what mag.
nificent scamps they would be!
" We must make up a match between Samuel and Miriam.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               261
Their guileless natures harmonize with and fit them for each other.
I have long contemplated making Mirry my heir. If Samuel
could only be brought to turn his eyes favorably upon herand we might work it, I think, with your good lady's assistance
-I would not only agree to leave her all I should be worth
when I die, but I would put her in possession of half of my cash
and property at once. She is the only being on earth, excepting
Samuel, who has ever influenced my mind with pure thoughtsand pure thoughts are luxuries worth paying for. When I talked
with Samuel in the car, the same happy feeling came over me
which I always experience in my conversations with Miriam.
What wonder, then, if, loving Miriaml, I should also love Samuel,
who possesses, in a yet bolder, grander, and more marked
degree, the very qualities which render her so lovable.
"Samuel-Miriam!
"How I delight to repeat these words, to me so full of purity
and sweetness!
"Say what we will, think as we may, partner, there is a grandeur, an elevating power, a hallowing influence, in religion, which
we sordid sons of business know but little of-unhappily.  As
for myself, I am not ashamed to confess that when in the presence
of little Miriam, or Samuel, I experience a sense of my own unworthiness, my own inferiority —more, I realize the comforting
blessedness of their purer thoughts. It sanctifies me while I am
near them, while I listen to them.
"Now, old boy, you, with all your humbug, all your worldliness, must have experienced this glorious feeling, also-because
you are with them more, see them more, hear them more, and
enjoy the luxury of their intimacy more.. I almost-nay, I do
— envy you these privileges; for it is a privilege to be admitted
to the society, even for a few moments, of the good.
"And now tell me-partner mine in business humbug and iniquity-is not the principle, the institution or whatever it may




262      WHICH:: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
be, which is capable of influencing minds like ours in that manner, of ridding us of our grossness and elevating us to a consciousness of temporary purity, hallowing us, as it were, with the
luxury of goodness, WORTH GOING IN FOR, manfully, hand and foot,
hip and thigh, heart and head?
" I know it requires courage to face the thought of it, greater
to resolve upon it, and greater still to do it. But, partner mine,
we are not boys, nor cowards. The pluck to think of it, I have,
and to acknowledge it, too; but whether or no I have the
stamina to go through with it-to face my Maker and tell Him
I am a rascal, but that I repent and will serve Him, in future,
like a MAN-is another question. I don't know that I have, and
I cannot say but I have. Time will decide it.
" But how is it with you?  I do not wish you to think me
impertinent, but this I will say-it is time you take the subject
in hand / Whatever we may say of it, whatever we may think
of it, this trifling with the immortal part of us is no joke! I
say this-I, Robert Crittenden-because I feel it; and the feeling has been growing on me ever since my conversation with
Samuel in the cars. I cannot get over it. It forces itself upon
me, by day, by night. It is with me a Presence-a Familiar.
I tell you this-I, Robert Crittenden, who have seen the world,
and studied it, and scorned it, for six-and-forty years.
" There is a vitalizing power, a hallowing influence, an arousing spirit-a stirring greatness-in religion. Believe it!
"I saw a dealer to-day. While conversing with him, an express wagon emptied five cases of goods at his door. They
were opened in my presence, and laid out, for shelving, on his
counter. They formed a goodly heap. The bill had arrived
previously by post. The goods were examined piece by piece,
and then stored upon the shelves. Every item was found to becorrect, and every item was correct. The dealer showed me the
bill-the goods had been purchased by his partner of Samuel —




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                263
at our house. I looked at them as I never looked at a bill of
goods bought of our house before-with a feeling of honest
pride, of stirring satisfaction!
"That bill of goods was an honest one! It had been made
without a single lie; every piece in it had been sold at its honest
worth. There was no paltry fraud, no petty falsehood, employed
in making it up. From top to bottom, it was an honest bill, and
-it was made at our house! At our house, where we neither
lie nor cheat —Now!
"Fancy my struggle to restrain my enthusiasm —to preserve
my equanimity.
"That; partner, was the most glorious moment I ever experienced since I became a merchant. T'en years' profits could not
have bought it. I felt like an honest man!
" John P. Townsend —I say it in all sympathy and kindnesshave you ever had that feeling? Of late, even?  If not, you
cannot appreciate its luxury!
"Ah! partner-we sordid money dogs of business, when we
barter our Honesty for a paltry Bill, give away a GREAT THING
for a very small one! Believe it!
"Nor is this all. These country merchants, whom we city
jobbers are so apt to regard as flats, know us, understand us, appreciate us! They are not the blind, silly moles we take them to
be! Their eyes are sharp, their senses keen. They know us
through and through. In backwoods parlance, they can' tell a
rascal by his smell.' When a drummer makes his appearance
on their thresholds, they instinctively lock their tills! They eye
him suspiciously, they listen to him incredulously. They understand the meaning of his oily politeness, of his assumed geni.
ality; and duly appreciate both them and him at their true
value.  They know city merchants and city drummers, BETTER
THAN CITY MERCHANTS OR CITY DRUMMERS KNOW THEM! Light
your cigar with that-after riveting it in your memory.




264       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Well, while conversing with our friend, the dealer, to-day,
who should come in, on a drumming call, but Mr. Wilson, of the
firm of Gates & Wilson-one of our pretentious rivals. You
know that house; you know its reputation for littleness, for lying,
for gouging, for audacious humbug. Well-our dealer knew it,
too! He had made bills of it, formerly, and found it out, andremembered it. Wilson came in with his usual honeyed smile.
One unused to him, and creatures of his kind, would have fancied him  a shipwrecked brother, who had escaped from  the
Arabs, or some other murderous tribe, for no other object in
the world than to embrace his relative, the dealer-he was so
very glad to see him, and shook him by the hand so heartily!
But it was of no use. The dealer understood him, the dealer knew
him-right straight through. I-He received Mr. Wilson with
calm, unaffected coolness; listened to him a few minutes, and
then shook his head with a significancy which left the drumming
gentleman without hope-surveying him the while with a slight
curl of his upper lip, that betrayed his contempt both for the
luckless worthy himself and the house which he represented.
Mr. Wilson then retired, to drum  elsewhere, with a pale hue
around his lips, a mortifying glow on his cheeks, a ray of disappointment in his eyes, and an air not quite so genial as that which
marked his entrance.
" This man represented a mean, dishonest house, and the dealer
knew it. That was enough.
"I represented an honest house, and the dealer knew it, too.
"Mark the result:
"Mr. Wilson went off with a flea in his ear, and the solemn
consciousness of never selling another bill to thtat dealer.
"Mr. Crittenden went off, by invitation, to dine with the
dealer, and with the pleasing consciousness that his house would
make many another bill with that same country merchant, in




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               265
spite of all the'flattering inducements,' all the oily drummers,
and all the tempting baits of other houses.
"Honestyypays, old boy! Believe it! Shall I tell you why?
Country dealers appreciate it, and will, out of pure selfishness,
if from no nobler motive, give their trade only to those houses
who practise it.'" Another instance, in evidence. Two days ago I called upon
a dealer in Schenectady. He was making up an order when I
entered. When I mentioned my name and the firm I represented, he exclaimed-' Oh, yes-that's the honest house of
which neighbor Miller has been telling us. There's a young
man there, called Samuel Leland-better known by his given
than by his surname. I intended to try him with this,' and he
held up the order which he was writing out.
"You received that order, partner, by this morning's mail-or
Samuel, rather, which is the same thing.
"You see, therefore, how the principle takes, and how it pays.
l3ut enough on that head-you have a discerning mind.
"And now, partner mine, one word:
"You and I are reaping the harvest of another's goodness, not
our own. Should we not do something to manifest our appreciation of that goodness? Say, by a New Year's present of a
round thousand or two to Samuel, the instrument of that goodness, and by a present of ourselves to the Divine Author of that
instrument?
"I ask the first with confidence-the second with hope.
"Of one thing be assured: It is time we think this matter
over! We are getting on in years; already the silver is around
your temples, the dark is thinning and falling away from mine.
"Let us be MEN. Let us think aright —let us be brave and
earnest-at least in our latter days.
"As our lights go out in the darkness of death, let them go
12




266      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
out gloriously-like great torches, not like small, mean, sickly
lamps.
"' Come, old friend —what say you? Shall we go up to Him
with our thank-offerings, New Year's?
"Samuel-brave, simple, true-hearted Samuel, will show us
the way!
"One word more. Do not fancy from the foregoing that I
have given myself over to the High Principle of which I have
been speaking, and of which Samuel and Miriam are such brilliant embodiments. I have not. But I am thinking of it. You
will understand this when I tell you that I believe I have reached
that intellective stage when the mind looks down with contempt
upon common things as unworthy of it, and aspires to the highest
range of human thought. That range, John, can only be attained
by one ladder-Religion. It leads to themes which ennoble the
intellect, strengthen it, expand it, and endow it with capacity to
banquet on conceptions which are opulent with dignity and
grandeur; themes which enable the mind to take broad, correct,
comprehensive, and comforting views, because they start from
the right point; themes which fill the mind with stirring glories,
the heart with thrilling raptures! Do you understand me, now?
Well, I desire to reach the highest range, and I propose to try if
it can be done. Partner-friend-John! I should like your
company and encouragement in the matter!  What say you?
It is not Robert Crittenden the merchant who asks this of John
P. Townsend the prince of business men; it is Robert Crittenden's SOUL addressing John P. Townsend's SOUL. Friend and
partner of many years! have you the will, and if so, the courage,
to unite with me in the effort?
"To return again to business:
"How does Brigham relish the religious turn which the house
is taking? It must make him shake somewhat a-round the knees
I fancy —since he cannot but see that it is rapidly doing away




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              267
with the importance of his'extensive commercial influence.'
I never could abide that man's teeth nor his airs. They sicken
me. Let him make one, however, of the'gallery.'
" This letter is long-too long, perhaps. But I could not help
it. My heart had its story to tell, as well as my business.
"Yours affectionately, and in good health,
"R ROBERT CRITTENDEN."
Mr. Townsend read the letter over carefully, and then put it
into his pocket. In the evening he handed it to his wife, with
the brief remark"A letter from Crittenden, my dear!"
Mrs. Townsend perused it twice, in silence and in thought.
At the end of the second reading, she returned it to her husband.
Their eyes met in the movement, and each inquired of the other:
"' Well-what do you think'"
But neither made answer.




CHAPTER XIX.
A FEW evenings later, as they sat in the drawing-room, Mrs.
Townsend observed that her husband's features wore an uneasy
air.
"Anything happened 2" she inquired, at length.
"No, nothing of any great importance," returned the merchant, without looking up from his newspaper.
Mrs. Townsend regarded him for a few moments in silence,
but did not repeat her interrogatory. Still she was satisfied
that something thad happened; but as her husband did not, for
some reason best known to himself, see fit to mention the cause
of his soberness, she repressed her curiosity, solacing herself
with the conviction that he would impart the secret of his own
accord in due season.
A few evenings later, the merchant returned home with the
same sedate air. He said but little during the evening, but on
finding himself alone with his wife, he observed —
"We have got a dishonest clerk in the house!"
His wife looked at him in surprise.
"What makes you think so?"
"Because I have been robbed," returned Mr. Townsend, impatiently.
"Of what-goods or money?"
" Of both, it may be, for all I know; but at present I am only
certain of the latter."
"Whom do you suspect to be the culprit?"
"No one. But it is some one who is familiar with the money
(2as)




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               269
drawer of my desk. Some one who-but, pshaw! What's the
use of working one's self into a passion. I'll have him, whoever
he is!"
"How much have you lost."
"So far, seventy dollars. A trifle, to be sure; but yet too
much to lose in that manner, by exactly sixty-nine dollars and
one hundred cents!"
"I was not aware that you were in the habit of keeping your
money in your desk."
"Nor am I. But my drawer gets pretty well filled during
the day, before my cash account is made up, notwithstanding!
Last Tuesday, when making up my cash for a deposit, I discovered a deficiency of thirty dollars. To-day, another of forty.
Pleasant-isn't it 2"
"Have you mentioned the matter to any one 2"' Only to Brigham and the book-keeper; but it will get out,
of course."
An unhappy incident occurred the following forenoon in the
packing department.
It was a busy day-right in the height of the business seasonand the packing-room resembled a bee-hive. Bill Bradley and
his assistants were driving away, as if for dear life. The vast
basement floor groaned with  packing-boxes-packing-boxes
empty, packing-boxes filled, the latter marked and strapped
(anglice, hooped), and ready for shipment. On a long table
might be seen, at various distances from each other, heaps of
miscellaneous goods-each heap being an " order"-all waiting
their turn for the packer, Bill Bradley himself, who made short
work with a pile the moment he approached it. In fact, the
worthy packer had a genius for his business. He worked by
system. His assistants laid out the orders-Bill Bradley himself packed them. The orders, large or small, as they might be,
were laid in piles upon the sides of the long broad table, which,




270      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
by the recent pressure of business, was continually kept full.
Then stepping up with a box, or boxes, if the order demanded
more than one, the gallant packer, his sleeves rolled up and his
sinewy arms yearning for action, commenced making the tour
of the table. It was a sight. The piles disappeared, one after
another, like magic. Here is a great big heap, variously made
up of cloths, de laines, flannels, cottons, silks, and prints of every
hue. Bill Bradley approaches it, with the air of a conqueror,
measures it with his keen, experienced eye, and cries out to the
youth who supplies him with boxes, "Five cases, No. 3," and
in another minute they are beside him. Now look at that order,
and then glance in another direction for a few minutes. Now
turn your head again, and look for that great big heap of
goods. You see-what? A vacant space. The pile is broken
up, packed, and lying snug and dry in those five cases which Bill
Bradley is rapidly marking with a long slender brush thusSMITH & CO.,
Via John Jones,                       ABBEVILLE,
Charleston, S.C.                       S. C.
And the goods are ready for shipment.
"' Here, John"-John is a porter-" hoist these up, and tell
Billins —" Billings is the cartman of the house of John P.
Townsend-" to hurry'em  down to the steamer right away.
Quick. It's now ten o'clock, and she sails at twelve. Hurry!"
And the all-conquering packer moves on to the next order, which,
being somewhat smaller than the other, disappears in a little
less than no time; and then on to another, which is a great deal
larger. Bill surveys it for an instant with a sharp, calculating
eye. There are three long rolls of oil-cloth in the pile. They




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               271
were bought elsewhere by the owner of the heap, and ordered
to be sent into John P. Townsend's for packing with his other
goods. The rolls were long, and required a large-sized box,
which might be made to take in the whole pile. This the packer
concluded at once to do. A case of the necessary size was picked
out, and in ten minutes it was filled, topped, strapped and
marked, and the packer moved on to the next heap, exclaiming"John-Bill, take this case ter the hoist-way, get it up on the
walk, and tell Billins ter rush it down ter the Sea Queen, foot
of Maiden Lane. She sails at three, and don't take freight after
twelve. Hurry!"
But John and Bill, though stout fellows both, were not equal
to the task. The box was too weighty. It mocked all their
efforts to raise it, and they called upon the vigorous packer for
help.
The latter met their request cheerfully. Once upon its " feet,"
it would be comparatively easy to work the case in any
direction.
The stalwart packer had it in the desired position in an instant.
Then bidding the others to steady it while he gave it its ilnpulsion, he attempted, with a dexterous, energetic, half-jerking, halfoscillating movement, to urge the case towards the hoist-way.
While thus engaged, one of his companions incautiously missed
his hold. In an effort to recover it, he inadvertently pressed
against the box while it was in motion. All saw the error, but
not in season to avert its consequences. The untimely pressure
deprived the case of its equilibrium, and urged it forward upon
the manly packer, whom it forced before it to the floor, burying
him beneath its ponderous weight.
The poor fellow uttered a loud, gurgling, agonizing scream,
which resounded throughout the building, and fainted.
The startled clerks, followed by their no less startled customers, poured confusedly and throngingly down the broad stairway




272       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
-twenty hands removed the weighty case, and lifted the bruised,
bleeding, and senseless packer from the floor to his old, familiar
table. The stoutest-hearted of the crowd shuddered as they looked
upon him.  His clothes were rent, his limbs frightfully bruised,
and his great, manly chest flattened, as if every bone had been
crushed to powder. The livid paleness of his face was intensified
by a crimson gush around his mouth and nostrils, through which
the falling case had forced the blood in a fierce, sudden dash.
WThen the packer returned to consciousness, he found himself
lying upon a narrow  but comfortable bed, in a long, wide
room, with a range of beds on either side-all, or nearly all,
occapied by pale, wasted beings, in various stages of physical
suffering.  Here and there were nurses ministering to their
charges: one rendering a pillow  easier; another changing a
bandage; a third feeding a ta.l, emaciated patient, who was sitting up and leaning for support against the head-board of his bed,
his weak, nerveless arms hanging helpless from  his shoulders,
and himself with scarcely strength enough to open his lips to
receive the refreshing broth which the attendant was giving to
him, as if he were a little child.
The packer comprehended his situation in an instant: he was
in the New York Hospital.
He tried to turn himself in his bed; but he discovered, to his
utter amazement, that his will had no control over his body.
IHe could not stir a hair's breadth. He was conscious, but he
could scarcely be said to be alive. Ile had not even a sensation
of feeling left.  He made an effort to collect his thoughts, but in
vain. The more he tried to reflect, the more confused he became.  IHis head fell listlessly on one side, and remained so from
utter inability to return: on perceiving which, a nurse approached,
and raising it gently, propped it with pillows to retain it in its
proper position. The packer's consciousness glided off into a
soft, quiet slumber.




WVHICi: THE RIGHT, OR THE  iEFT.              273
When he awoke again, he was still in a low stage of feebleness.  He was conscious, nevertheless, of a certain measure of
strength.
A surgeon approached, and surveyed him for a few moments
in silence.
"How do you feel now 2" he asked at length.
" Sore," answered the packer.
" Good   Feeling has returned to him ll!" mused the surgeon.
"The crisis is over. He will live."
And with these thoughts the surgeon moved away to another
patient, in a distant part of the ward.
The packer tried to think, and he succeeded; he then made
an effort to arrange his thoughts, in which he was equally successful.
A  nurse drew near.  She had a mild, pleasant, motherly
appearance.
"How are you now 3" she inquired, sitting down beside the bed.
"' Sore-sore all over," replied the packer.' That is a good sign," remarked the nurse, encouragingly.
"Good!" said the packer, in surprise.
"Yes," answered the nurse.  " But," she added, "c you mustn't
talk. The doctor won't allow it. It will weaken you."
"Stay," said the packer, as she was stepping away.  " Only
a few words. They will ease my mind.  Do."
" In that case, I will humor you," said the nurse, resuming her
seat.  " But remember-only two minutes," and she took out
her watch and noted the time.
"' How long have I been here 2" asked the packer.
" Ten days."
" Crazy, any 2"
"A little."
" Any one been to see me 3"




274      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
" Yes-your mother, and a young gentleman by the name of
Leland."
"How often?"
"Your mother every other day, Mr. Leland every day. A
good man, I think-a Christian?"
"A real one!" said the packer. "Yer orter know him!"
The packer paused. His breathings were feeble. The nurse
observed him with an air of increased interest
" Your two minutes are nearly up," she said. "You had better give over."
" One word more," said the packer, earnestly. "Poor mother
must be very lonely. She has no one to talk to her-no one ter
care for her, but me. And I-I'm down!"' Be comforted. Mr. Leland appears to be very good to her,"
said the nurse, in a soothing tone. "He always comes with her,
and always takes her away. He is more like a son to her than
a stranger."
"He is?" cried the packer, with an air of mingled gratitude
and joy. "God bless him!" he added, energetically; "God bless
him!"
"Time is up!" remarked the nurse, and she quietly moved
away.
The packer looked after her a few moments, and then composed his thoughts. Three minutes later, his senses were wrapped in a soft sleep.
The surgeon and nurse returned. The former bent his ear
towards the patient's head, and listened.
" He breathes well," he observed, rising. "He will mend."
And they left the packer to his dreams.
When the young mar. awoke, on the following day, he found
a visitor on either side of his bed. On his left, seated on a
chair, was a venerable and familiar female form, in black, her




W HIH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               275
hat on, as if she had but recently come in. It was Mrs. Osborn,
his adopted mother. She had a mild, matronly face, with an
expression of rare gentleness and benignity. As the packer
looked up at her, his eye detected a tear upon her cheek, and
his ear caught the dying cadence of a sigh.
On his right was another face, fresher, younger-fairer, full of
majestic beauty, and significant of unusual sweetness, gentleness,
and serenity. From beneath the pale, thoughtful brow, looked
two clear, dark eyes, beaming with tenderness and benevolence.
The packer glanced from the one to the other with an air of
mixed gratitude and pleasure.
"Mother-Samuel!" he exclaimed.  "I thank yer for this
visit. Shake hands!"
With these words, he attempted to raise his arms from the
coverlet, but the effort was followed by a sensation of pain so
exquisitely excruciating that it forced from him a suffering cry.
"My dear boy," said the old lady, sobbing, " you mustn't stir.
The doctor says so."
"It is true, Bill," said Samuel. "We shall not be permitted
to see you, if it is found that our presence disturbs you."
"I'll be more careful," returned the packer.  "Kiss me,
mother."
Mrs. Osborn bent over him, and pressed her lips to his forehead with touching delicacy, as if she feared that even her breath
tnight hurt him.
It was evident to Samuel that these two humble spirits were
united by the holiest of all human bonds-sincere affection.
As the old lady resumed her seat, a cloud of anxiety darkened
the poor packer's features.
"You are in great pain, Bill?" observed Samuel.
"In mind and body," returned the packer.  "I'm  hurt-I
know that:' I'm hurt badly. Yer can see it, and there aint no
use in my danyin' it."




276      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"No use at all, Bill," returned Samuel, kindly.  " It would
neither deceive us nor youself."
"Just so," returned the packer.  "And besides, I don't want
ter lie; it's agin my principles.  I always like the honess truthit makes a feller feel better."
"It is a good principle, Bill. Stick to it."
" Don't be afraid of me, Samuel. Yer see, it's in me-truth
is. It's in my jints. I couldn't lie, no how —not even if I wanted
ter. And that's what troubles me!"
"What do you mean, Bill?"
"Mother —" suggested the packer
" What is it, dear?" asked Mrs. Osborn.
"Yer will grieve over my trouble so," said the packer.'Yer'll keep thinkin' that I am  sufferin' so much-which is
true. There's no mistake about it. It's true. But-"
"But what, dear?"
"Yer'll keep thinking of it, mother, when you oughtn't ter.
Distressin' yourself, and breakin' your heart, about me. I know
yer. You'll keep thinkin' of me!"
The poor old soul covered her face with her handkerchief
and sobbed.
"And don't you want her to think of you, Bill?" asked
Samuel.
"No," returned the packer.  "That is, y-e-s.  I want her
ter think of me —of course; but not of my trouble. Coax her
not ter —won't yer, Samuel?"
"My dear boy!" sobbed the old creature.
"There," said the packer, "there yer are! Didn't I say so t
Yer'll keep goin' on that way! Now if yer wouldn't, mother —if
yer wouldn't! You see, mother, there's yer own trouble-the
pallysis-yer'll aggravate that. And then what'll become of
y er?  Don't yer see 3."
"Noble heart!" murmured Samuel.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               277
"Now, mother," continued the packer, tenderly, " if yer
would only promise not ter think too much of me, and more of
yerself — think I could get along better. I'm  a man, yer
know-a strong feller, too-and I can get through, and be up
in no time; because there's a big foundation for my trouble to
spread itself on. I'm young, full of vigor, and all that; and
when the pains come along, I can stand'em firse rate. But it
aint so with.you, mother. You're old and feeble; you've got the
pallysis and the roomatics-the roomatics some, but the pallysis
bad. Now, if yer'd only think of yerself a good deal, an' a
little of me —say just enough to keep the old feelin' alive-I'd
be satisfied, and I'd bear up tip top-I know I would!"
"My dear boy, you know I must think of you.  I can't
help it 1"
"'L That's it," returned Bill, sorrowfully. " I know yer can't help
it, mother-'cause yer've got a great heart. But if yer'd only
promise me, before Samuel, here, not ter think too much of me,
I'd get through quicker. There's so many things that yer can
do, yer know, when yer find yerself givin' way too much about
me. Yer can go and see some of the neighbors-Mrs. Weeks,
for ins'ance, she's a nice woman-yer can go and talk with her;
and then there's Mrs. Ellis, who lives up stairs-she'd be very
glad if yer would only go and talk with her, once in a while.
She's told me so-often. She likes you, firse rate. And then
you can read-and then you can sing; and then read again.
There's all them things yer can do, to keep from  thinkin' too
much of me. Don't yer see, mother-don't yer see."
Samuel reflected. An idea struck him.
"Now, mother," continued the packer, coaxingly, " if yer think
too much of me, yer'll forget all about yerself; and yer'll get
thin, and weak, and wan, and unable to attend to yer pallysis and
roomatics. Then what'll become on yer   And when I'm  all




278      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
right agin, and go home to see yer, there'll be no mother for
poor Bill any more!"
"Oh, my dear boy, don't talk so! You'll kill me!"
"If you would only promise me ter take care of yerself,
mother," said Bill. "But yer won't!"
" Oh, I will, my dear boy-I will," said Mrs. Osborn. cc I will
take great care of myself. Yes, I will!"
"But yer'll get so lonely sometimes, mother," said Bill.
"Yer'll let yerself get lonely, a purpose!"
" No, my dear boy-I won't. I'll make myself comfortable
-very comfortable-and-and-happy."
"But yer won't go and see Mrs. Ellis and Mrs. Brown; or if
yer do, yer'll keep talkin' and thinkin' of me, all the time!"
"No, I won't, Bill, dear-not all the time!"
"But yer won't go and see'em every day?"
"Yes, I will, my dear boy-if you wish it."
" I do wish it, mother!"
"I'll do it, then, Bill-yes, I will!"
" And take great care of yerself-very great care?"
"Very great care, Bill. I promise it!"
An air of triumph-of joy-illumined the pale features of
the tender-hearted packer.
"' Kiss me again, mother!" he said, falteringly.
Their lips met, and the tears of the poor old creature bedewed
the cheeks of her loved and loving boy.
The latter, however, restrained the flood which was struggling
to burst through his eyes, lest the object of his solicitude should
impute it to his physical suffering.
At this moment, a physician approached.
"You must leave my patient for the present," he said. "He
requires repose."
The old lady bowed, and rose. Samuel followed her exam



WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               279
pie, and bidding the poor packer good-bye, they took their departure.
On reaching the street, Samuel called a cab, and after settling
the fare, he shook Mrs. Osborn by the hand, bade her be of good
cheer, and promising to see her again ere long, he returned to
the store, where he arrived just in time to meet a customer,
who, like the majority of his customers, had come to him because
he had heard of him.
In the evening, Samuel posted to Mrs. Farley's. As he ascended the dark staircase, he caught the last stanza of a"familiar
hymn:" Sweetly may we all agree,
Touched with softest sympathy,
Kindly for each other care,
Every member feel its share.
-Dum-dum —dum.
Many are we now, and one,
We who Jesus have put on:
Names, and sects, and parties fallThou, 0 Christ, art all in all I"
Dum-dum-dum.
"She is ironing!" thought Samuel, as he heard the peculiar
accompaniment. He knocked at the door, and the laundress
appeared. Upon recognizing her visitor, she received him with
her usual genial warmth.
The laundress entertained for Samuel a peculiar affection:
the affection that one pure, artless spirit has for another, whom
it knows to be equally as guileless as itself, and serving the same
High Interest.
The young man guessed aright: his fair friend was ironing.
He took a seat beside the table, and while she pursued her work,
he related the details of the accident at the store, and of the
interview at the hospital.




280'TWHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
The laundress listened to his narrative with marked interest.
"And now, my dear friend," said Samuel, in conclusion, " to
the object of my visit."
"Yes," said the laundress, encouragingly, for she understood
the nature of the noble heart before her too well not to suspect
what would follow; " go on."
" I want to ask a favor of you," said Samuel. " Bill is a good
young man, and we ought to do something for him."
" True," said the laundress; "' and I would be glad to perform
my share."
" Ah! Mrs. Farley, you make me very happy! I expected
no less of you, for you are one of us3.
The laundress bowed smilingly, and Samuel continued:
"It struck me, while at the poor fellow's bedside this afternoon, that if we could only make him easy about the loneliness
of his dear mother, that it would relieve him very much. Then
I thought of you, as one who would willingly join me in an
effort to secure him that relief; and so I have come to ask if
you will kindly let the dear old lady reside with you until Bill
shall get well!"
"Cheerfully-gladly," returned the laundress.
"Ah! madam, you make me very happy! It will be so consoling to Bill to know that his mother is not left alone, because
calamity has stepped in between them for a time-to know that
she is with one who understands her kind, pious heart, and will
cheer her and be near her in case of trouble."
"So it will!" said the laundress.
"And then it will be so pleasant for the old lady herself,"
continued Samuel, " to have the company of one who can sympathize with her, talk with her, and pray with her."
"' True, again!" observed the laundress.  "And I will do all
I can to lighten her affliction."
"Dear Mrs. Farley, you make me very happy! I will step




WnHICH   THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             281
in at the hospital to-morrow morning, and tell Bill all about it.
The knowledge will make his-mind easy for the day, and enable
him to bear his physical sufferings with resignation. In the
evening I will call on Mrs. Osborn herself, and explain it all
over, and if she consents-as I think she will, when I tell her
that you are one of us-I will bring her here at once. And
thus we shall save the poor lady from at least one night of loneliness and grief."
" Dear-dear!" exclaimed the simple-hearted laundress, "that
will be something for the good soul!"
"'So it will, Mrs. Farley. And now, let us see about her
support."
" Oh, I will attend to all that, Mr. Leland," said the laundress.
"No, it would be unfair," returned Samuel.  "Because I want
to do something. Let us see. Suppose you give her your society, your sympathy, and your attention —and let me have the
privilege of paying for her board?  That would make it about
even, and render it more satisfactory to our venerable friend
herself, who would scarcely consent to owe everything to either
one of us. Will that do, Mrs. Farley?"' Oh, yes-since you wish it," replied the latter.
"Ah! madam, you make me very happy. And now let us
come to the amount. Say four dollars a week 2"
"Oh, no," returned the laundress, energetically.
"Six, then?" continued Samuel.
" No, not half, not a quarter of it. Why, how you run on!"
" A third of six," said Samuel, " would only be two dollars.
The lady could not live on that!"
a"Oh, yes, easily," said the laundress, " and on less too.
Why it costs me but four dollars and a half per week, rent and
all."'"But our friend is old," suggested Samuel, "and the aged
want their little comforts. A cup of good nice tea now and




282      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
then; a dish of chicken broth, too, and other things of which I
know but little, but all of which they know and like. Say two
dollars for the board, and a dollar for the comforts, Mrs. Farley 2"
The laundress consented at length to this, and Samuel shortly
after took his leave, congratulating himself, on his way home,
upon an acquaintance with one who was so willing to lend a
helping hand to the afficted.
Of his own goodness, the young Christian never thought at
all.
The packer awoke the following morning in great pain. His
strength, however, had materially increased.  His mind was
clear, and moderately firm. He was conscious of his improvement; but he was impressed also with the conviction that a long
siege of suffering lay before him. Between his present condition
and his return to health, he beheld with his mental eye a dreadful interval. During that interval, what would become of his
adopted parent? Relying ever upon his industry, he had saved
none of his earnings. Anticipating no evil day, he had made
no provision for it; and now, in his hour of trouble, to whom
could his parent look for support? What would become of
her? Who would care for her?
The packer groaned. Cold beads of sweat appeared upon his
emaciated brow.
" Oh! if I had but thought of this before!" he murmured, in
deep anguish. "If I had but considered it in time! Motherdear mother-what will become of yer?' What orter become of
me for bringin' yer to this position!"
The poor fellow would have marched up to the stake at that
moment if, by so doing, he could have rectified his error.
Another idea struck him. He was in the New York Hospital, an institution which expects three dollars per week from
each of its patients. It is true the latter are not disturbed if




WHICH: THlE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.            283
they do not pay; still it is expected by the institution that each
patient's bill will be paid, either by the patient himself or by
his friends. Three dollars per week is a pitiful sum for board,
nursing, and the best of medical attendance; but small though
it be, it is a world of money to him who has it not. But this
was not all. The packer was conscious that he received extra
attentions, extra delicacies, extra medical care; and his good
sense told him that those extras were charged as such-that, in
fine, they were added to the three dollars per week. His good
sense also told him that extras were never furnished unless they
were specially ordered. Who ordered them? The packer himself did not. Some one must have done it for him. But who
was that some one? His friend, of course! But who was his
friend? The person who had introduced him tc the Hospital.
But who was that person? His mother? She had no money;
moreover, she was dependent for her support upon himself.
Some relative? Save his adopted parent, he had none. His
employer? Mr. Townsend was only generous to those who
could be serviceable to him. Who, then, was his unknown
friend?
"Well," muttered the packer, "Cno matter. It's somebody.
That's sure. But what does it prove? Simply this —that I,
Bill Bradley-a hale, hearty feller of twenty-five —who have
always had plenty of work and good wages-am  now, in the
hour of trouble, a dependent on another's charity! Well, that's
pooty-that is! and poor mother, too, that I've allers pretended
to care so much for! If I hadn't sense enough to lay by some'n
for myself, couldn't I have cared a little for her? Won't," he
added, forgetful of his situation, and talking aloud, " won't somebody come and give me a whalin'? I orter be laid out, right
and left. Ugh! I'm  a dorg-a fifer-a thing!  Only let me
get over this, once-that's all!"




284      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"You are disturbed 3" remarked a voice near him. It was
that of the nurse, who supposed him to be raving.
"I am  suffering," returned the packer.  "One word: Who
pays for my support here 3"
"I'm not at liberty to say," answered the nurse.
"Why not 3'"
"Beecaa.se nurses are not presumed to know anything about
such matters."
" I s'pose so. But yer can tell me why I am  tended to so
carefully, can't yer? The other fellers in the ward are not
looked after as I am."
"' What then 3
"A  great deal.  Somebody must have ordered  it, or it
wouldn't be so, would it?"
"That is true."
"There-I thought so. Now, who did order it 2"
"Why do you ask?" inquired the nurse, surveying him  attentively.
1" For satisfaction," returned the packer. "c Here's a big bill
running up agin somebody on my account, and I wanter know
who it is. Come, tell a feller, won't yer? I'll take it as a
favor!"
"What good will the knowledge do you?" asked the nurse.
"It'll make a feller feel better-make me get well sooner."
"In that case, I presume I am at liberty to speak. Your
friend is Mr. Leland."
"What-Samuel?" cried the packer. "Well! if I didn't suspect it!  Samuel 3 Well-there! That takes me down! And
yet, why should I be surprised? It's just like him "''
" Who is Samuel-Mr. Leland, I mean 3" asked the nurse.
"What?  Yer don't know  our Samuel?  Well -that's
pooty-that is! I thought everybody know'd him."




VWHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              285
"Are you —able to tell me about him?" asked the nurse.
"Able.  Yes, and willin', too. It does me good to think
of him. It's better than medicine, or bandages, to see himn and
talk of him. Listen."
And the packer related Samuel's career, from the hour of his
entrance into ".the house" until the day of the accident, as we
have detailed it to the reader. How good he was, how manly,
how benevolent, how gentle, unpretending, earnest, and upright.
How he was loved in the " house;" what changes he had wrought
in its business, and in the minds and habits of its people; of the
religious meetings in the packing-room-of the tours among the
poor; how many of the clerks had abandoned forever their previous vicious courses, and become good, manly-hearted, and
manly-minded men-each of them exerting in their turn upon
their friends, in greater or lesser degree, the same ennobling
influences which Samuel had exerted upon then; and how these
purifying influences were spreading, and deepening, and extending more and more-leading numbers, of rich and poor, from
fraud to honesty, from falsehood to truth, and fromfashionable
to genuine religion, How he did all this in his simple, earnest,
unpretending way-without noise, ostentation, or parade. How
men spoke of him as of one among ten thousand; and how they
said of him, that he presented, in his own person, a pleasing and
impressive illustration of the wide and amazing moral influence
which a single TRUE Christian is capable of exerting when he
sets himself about it in EARNEST, like a Christian! And how it
was remarked of him that whenever he talked with a person,
that person always felt better after the conversation than before;
that he never called upon a person witho-ut leaving,a smile in
the heart of that person when he took his departure; that the
cheering influence of his presence was always felt and acknowledged wherever he went; that he never opened his lips to say




286       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
a bitter or ungenerous thing; and that whenever he spoke, all
around him were glad that he had spoken.
The nurse reflected.
"There he is now," said Bill Bradley, in a low voice, as he
concluded.
The nurse turned around and looked at Samuel, who had just
entered the ward, and was advancing, with a smiling face and a
springy step, towards the packer.
" Good-morning, madam," he said, bowing; "good-morning,
Bill. You are improving. What think you, madam-our friend,
here, will soon be able to thank his surgeon for his kindly skill,
and you, too, for all your watchful care —eh?"
"The surgeon speaks favorably of his case, sir," replied the
nurse, catching the packer's eye, which said: " I told yer sodidn't I?"'"I am much obliged to him, and to you, too, madam, as it
will enable me to make a good report at the store. Do you
know, Bill, that the boys are all very anxious to hear how you
are getting on. They ask after you, every day, with affectionate
interest."
The eyes of the packer sparkled with mixed pleasure and
pride.
"Do they, though, Samuel l"
"Every day, Bill; and many of them design calling up to see
you. But I want to say a few words to you: something that
will cheer you!"
The nurse considerately moved away to another part of the
ward.
The packer looked up at his visitor, inquiringly.
" It's about your mother, Bill," returned Samuel. "What of
her?" asked the packer, eagerly.
Samuel then related the substance of his interview with Mrs.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              287
Farley, modestly omitting all mention of his own generosity,
and winding up as follows:-   -
"If you think Mrs. Osborn would be happy in my friend's
humble home, Bill, I will see her this evening and convey her
there without delay. I will be answerable both to the lady and
yourself that Mrs. Farley will spare no efforts to make her
comfortable."
" I would thank yer, Samuel, for this," said the packer, in a
broken voice, "but words fail me! Believe me, however —"
"You accept, then?" interrupted Samuel.
"With gratitude-"
"Ah! you make me very happy," cried Samuel. "I will see
your mother to-night, and tell her how finely you are improving.
She is a dear, good soul, and loves you very much. She is
absolutely proud of you, Bill. Well, good-bye. There's a deal
of business at the store, and I must be off. Keep your heart
up like a hero —trust in our Lord and Prince, and all will yet
be well. Good-bye!"
As he passed to the door, he whispered to the nurse"I need not urge upon you, madam, to be watchful of our dear
friend. For every kind attention you pay to him, for every
spark of pain you save him, for every hour that you bring him
nearer to health, his tender-hearted mother will be grateful when
sending up her pious thanks to God, while his friends will remember them in another way."
" I will do all I can for him, Mr. Leland —be assured of that,"
returned the nurse.
" Ah! thank you-thank you, madam. You make me very
happy! What a field you have here for kindness, gentleness, and
mercy! I could almost envy you the joy you must hourly experience in lessening your fellow-creatures' woes."
" There is a pleasure in it, Mr. Leland!" said the nurse. "For




288      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
every spark of pain that we can save them, we find a satisfactory reward."
"In your own hearts?"
" Yes."
The young Christian looked at her mild, motherly face, and
tenderly serene eye. An instant, and arn air of joy mantled his
own frank, honest countenance.  He caught her hand, and pressing it, exclaimed"Sister!  You are one of us. Ah! you make me very
happy!"
"The pleasure is mutual, brother," returned the nurse.
"And thus, as we pass on to The Kingdom, we meet, now
and then, a kindred spirit on the way. Ah, what joy!"
" We have many joys," said the nurse. "Our Prince is
careful of IHis people."
" So very careful, and so kind! If men would but believe it!
But I must away. Drop a word of our Prince, now and then,
to our friend. His heart is but a little way from Him now. He
would be a true soldier, if he should once put on the armor."' I'll remember."
"Do-you make me very happy. Adieu!" the young Christian said, and was gone.
The following morning, Samuel returned to the Hospital, and
notified the packer that Mrs. Osborn was under the protection
of the laundress.
The intelligence was a healing balm to the poor fellow. It
eased his mind upon a, to him, all-important point. From  that
hour he throve rapidly.




CHAPTER XX
" SAMUEL," said Mrs. Townsend, one evening, after tea, "have
you anything particular on hand this evening 2"
"Nothing so urgent that I cannot postpone it to another time,"
answered the young man; " providing I am wanted at home."
"You are always wanted there, truant!" said Isabella, with a
coquettish pout.  "Don't you say so, coz'!"
"I presume Mr. Leland is at home as often as his duties will
permit," returned Miriam, with her usual diffidence.
"You presume!" exclaimed Isabella.  " Well, that is pretty!
Why, you know, coz, that Samuel is nerer at home any more!
To-night he is off to prayeir-meeting, to-morrow among his poori
the evening after concerting with some of his fellow-clerks, in the
packing-room —so uncle tells us —how they shall save one more
poor soul front spiritual ruin, and another from temporal suffering!"
I beg that you won't drag me into your conspiracy,'Bel,"
observed AMr. Townsend.  "The fact is, I was indiscreet in mentioning the secrets of the packing-room; but since you are so
imprudent as to repeat tales out of school, I shall be more cautious in future!"
"That's a dear good guardy!" cried Isabella, patting him playfully on the cheek.  "Do be cautious-don't tell us anything.
We so like to be kept in ignorance of what is going on down
there!"
"You have got one resource in case I fail," returned her uncle,
laughing.
13                         (8)




290      WHICH::  THE RIGH1T, OR THE LEFT.
"Indeed?" cried Isabella. "Samuel himself?  Pshaw!  He
won't tell us!"
" No," said Mr. Townsend, who delighted to torment her.
"Mr. Brigham!"
"Mr. Brigham, indeed!" returned Isabella, with a charming
pout. " Uncle —l"
"Well, ly pet?"
"You are a, perfect tease!"
"But all this is apart from the main point," said Mrs. Townsend. " The question is, how shall we prevail upon Samuel to
favor us with his company this evening?"
" That is the point, indeed!" cried Isabella, turning from her
uncle, whom she had been playfully belaboring with her small,
delicate knuckles.
"' There needs no prevailing at all," observed Samuel. " Your
simple wish is enough."
" Oh, Mr. Truant," said Isabella, shaking her finger archly, "it
is well enough for you to say that, after you are caught; particularly when you know that you are wanted home all the
time!"
"You have a merry heart!" returned the young man.
"If I have, no thanks to you, Truant!"' said Isabella, in a tose
which was artfully made up of mingled vivacity and feeling.
" Here you are off every night among your suffering poor, and
never give a single thought to the suffering poor at home!"
The merchant and his wife exchanged a glance, which said"She is after him again!'"
Miriam was pale.  An air of anguish was visible in her
features. Her uncle observed it, and came up to her rescue.
"If a certain gentleman should hear you say that,'Bel!" he
cried, laughingly.
Isabella understood him, and retorted"A certain lady don't like to be tormented about a certain




IWHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               291
gentleman, guardy, because that certain lady feels no interest
whatever in what a certain gentleman may think!"
" Mr. Brigham," said a servant.
Isabella bit her lip; the merchant and his wife smiled;
Miriam  experienced a sense of relief, and Mr. Brigham entered
the parlor.
" How d'ye do, Brigham." said Mr. Townsend.  "You have
come in quite opportunely.  We want you to settle an important question."
" Ah! you are very good!" remarked the confidential clerk,
seating himself.  " But I hope it won't detain us long."
"Us!" repeated Isabella.
"Exactly," returned Mr. Brigham, surveying her with his halfpent eyes.  "Don't you remember our engagement 2  The
opera!"
" Dear me!" said the young lady.  "How very shocking! I
had forgotten all about it!"
Mr. Brigham's lips became livid.
Mr. and Mrs. Townsend regarded Isabella with astonishment.
They were wholly unprepared for this rudeness even in their
whimsical niece.
" We have still half an hour!" suggested Mr. Brigham, referring to his repeater.
"Oh! I could never dress in that time!" answered Isabella
"Besides, I have no inclination to go. I detest the opera!"
"A recent conversion, I apprehend!" observed Mr. Brigham,
showing his teeth.
"No!" rejoined Isabella.  "I have never regarded it with
favor. If 1 have appeared to do so, it has only been to accommodate my friends.  But we must not always be frivolous,
even to please them!"
" Good!" thought Mr. Townsend.  "That's another bait for
Samuel!"




292      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"In that case," bowed Mr. Brigham, "I have not a word to
urge."  Then turning, to Samuel, he said, with an ill-concealed
sneer, "I believe you are not partial to the opera, either?"
"Not very, sir!" returned Samuel.'I judge every institution
by a single standard; and that standard condemns the opera."
"Yes. The standard of the Church!" said Mr. Brighaln,
derisively.
"Yes, sir-in effect. Specifically, by the query:'What good
does it perform 2'"
"It cultivates music, art, and taste," said Mr. Brigham, with
the cynical air of a Solon; "benefits trade by giving employment to thousands, and-"
He paused, as if in chase of an idea which had suddenly escaped.
"Corrupts the morals of its auditors!" said Samuel, finishing
the sentence for him.
" A stale idea!" remarked Mr. Brigham.
"It may be, but yet a correct one."' You flatter yourself, sir!"
" By no means.  I put forth the statement not for its novelty,
but its truthfulness.  Minds whose opinions are governed by the
One Code, look upon evil things in the same light, through all
ages. What can be said of an institution which enervates the
minds and morals of its own professors, but that it is a bad one?
It is true, a singer appears now and then who is up to the average line of virtue, honesty, and integrity. But such instances
are the exception-the very reverse being the rule.  Who will
stand up for an institution which employs the divine art of music to allure unsuspecting minds to an exhibition which undermines the modesty of woman, familiarizes her with bawdy sentiments, and uproots the holy principles which were implanted in
her heart in her childhood?  Which exhibits woman in a garb




WTIICEH: ToHE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              293
that deprives her of every vestige of purity, and makes even of
the spectators smiling aiders and abettors in her shame 2"
"Stiff-necked cant and religious drivelling!"  sneered Mr.
Brigham.
" Call it so, if you will. You are entitled to your opinion,
and I to mine. But answer me this. Would it not humiliate
you, would it not empurple your cheek with shame, to see your
mother or your sister flaunting in the immodest garb of a balletdancer, or an opera-singer, in the street, or even in a drawingroomn.'
Mr. Brigharn made no reply.
" Transfer her, in the same revolting garb, from the street to
the stage, would the change make her the less immodest or revolting, or your blush less humiliating or less burning?"
"You are taking too great a liberty, sir," said Mr. Brigham,
drawing himself up, "' in supposing that either my mother or
my sister could descend to a level with people of that sort!"
"Excuse me," returned Samuel, "I had no idea that you
could be offended by such a comparison.  It would be no more
improper in your relatives to outrage woman's delicacy than in
mine, or any other man's. The outrage is still an outrage, by
whomsoever performed.  Nor is it any the less shameful
because it is supported by the world!"
"And so you, like all religionists," said Mr. Brigham, desiring to shift his position, which was not at all flattering, " are
opposed to all amusements 2"
"No, sir; only to those which, like the opera, make use of
Art to sap the foundations of Morality!"
"One thing is certain," said Mr. Brigham, with a mocking
bow-" you are in a glorious minority!"
"I regret it," returned Samuel.  "But I would rather be in
the minority of Right, than in the majority of Wrong!"
" Come," said Mr. Brigham, "' that is a heroic phrase!"




294       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Perhaps you can entertain us with a better!" said Isabella.
" Excuse me!" returned Mr. Brigham, showing his teeth.  " 1
am not an actor!"
"What a pity!" cried Isabella.  "You would  have made
such a capital' villain!"'
"Ha! Miss Landon!" returned Mr. Brigham, in a voice which
resembled a serpent's hiss, "a'villain!'"
"Yes, sir," answered Isabella, with freezing calmness.
The half-pent eyes of the confidential clerk glittered, through
their fringes, up at the speaker, for a few moments, with an expression of the most intense malignity. Then, as if conscious
of the impolicy of exposing his feelings, he gradually softened
the glance, and said, laughingly" To be as facetious, severe, and capricious as she pleases, is the
prerogative of beauty!"  Then, without giving her time to reply,
he turned to Mr. Townsend, and said-" The question which
you were about to put was —"
"This," said the merchant.'Whether a man should go
abroad in search of heathen, while there are heathen in his own
house'."
"What is guardy up to?" asked Isabella, in a whisper, of her
aunt, who answered her with a dubious shrug.
" I should say look at homne first, by all means," replied aMr.
Brigham, wondering at what lay hidden beneath the query.
"There, Samuel," cried Mr. Townsend, " all are against youeven Mr. Brigham!"
"I should be sorry to have Mr. Leland rank me among his
enemies," said Mr. Brigham, with a nervous tremor of his lips,
which was observed by all except Samuel himself.
" It would give me great pain to be aware that I had any,"
returned Samuel.
" Good! i find I am not suspected!" muttered the confidential
clerk. Then resuming his vein of irony, he said, aloud, " A man




W;VIICTH: THE RIGHT, ORI THE LEFT.               295
of merit, however, cannot expect to pass through life without
finding foes at every step."
"In that event," said Samuel, "an obscure individual like
myself may reasonably look for an exemption from so trying a
lot."
"That," said Mr. Brigham,'"would  be confessing to an
acknowledged absence of all claims to superiority!"'' Y~s, sir.  I pretend to no such claims."
"'Excuse me," said  Mr. Brigham, showing his teeth, with
him a sign that he designed to be very cutting, "I had a contrary
idea!"
"I regret to hear it, Mr. Brigham," replied Samuel, suppressing, with a heroic effort, his rising blood. "I have no desire to
be considered what I am not. I regard pretension of every
kind with abhorrence. It is unworthy and superfluous. It deceives
no one, and least of all, those whom it is designed to deceive. A
man of conscious or confessed merit has no need of it.  Gold
will pass for its own honest value, without the aid of brass.
While all the pretension in the world will not make a man of
merit of one who has it not; and still less will it enable him to
pass for a man of merit.  The world, if it be not over wise in
great, has a keen eye for little things; and when a small mind
comes with-a flourish of trumpets before it, the latter detects
its flimsiness in an instant, and greets it with a scoffing roar.
For these reasons. if for no other, I should always avoid pretension!"
"But for which of your reasons, Mr. Leland?" pursued Air.
Brigham, ironically.  " The first or the last."
"That is pressing the question rather too closely, I think," returned Samuel.  " Nevertheless, I will answer it."
"If you will be so kind!" said Mr. Brigham.
" In this way," said Samuel.  "If I'desired to be thought a
nan of talent, in sarcasm, for instance, I would return you sneer




296       WVmCH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
for sneer.  (Mr. Brigham  reddened.)  That I have not, implies
one of two things-either that I am unable, or unwilling, to do
so. I confess to the correctness of both!"
" Bravo, Samuel! Give it to him again!" cried Isabella.
"'Bel!" said her aunt, in a reproving tone.
" Oh, if the gentleman is unable to defend himself-" began
Mir. Brigham.
" Excuse me, sir," interrupted Samuel,'" I was not aware that
I had been attacked."
"'Good  again, Samuel!" cried Isabella, clapping her hands.
"What a giant he must be when his heaviest blows scarcely
ruffle the air!"
" Oh, if I must face two such master-spirits," sneered the confidential clerk, "I shall retire from the combat altogether!"
"The only way by which you can save the remnant of your
reputation!" laughed Isabella.  " When a man is defeated, it is
a glorious thing for him to be able to say,' I retired to avoid my
enemy's last kick!'"
"You are very good!" said Mr. Brigham, showing his teeth.
" It is no disgrace to retire before the advance of so pitiless a
reinforcement!"
"A stranger would suppose," said Samuel, good-humoredly,
"that we were a trio of enemies, and not friends.  Let us drop
our personalities, and talk in a pleasanter strain."
"Speak for yourself, sir," said Mr. Brigham, drawing himself
up. "As for me, I neither dread your personalities nor your
logic!"
"Hear him, aunt!" cried Isabella.  "And he was himself the
first and only one to exhibit bile!"
"You appear to enjoy rating me to-night, Miss Landon!" said
Mr. Brigham, biting his lip.
"Oh, no-you flatter yourself, sir!" answered Isabella, jeer.
ingly.  "I rate you without any pleasure, I assure you!"




WVIIICH: THIE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.            297
"If my presence is offensive —"
"Oh, no-don't think so, sir; pray, don't!" cried his tormentor,
with a pitiless smile. " Your presence, like your conversation,
is altogether amusing!"
The confidential clerk turned absolutely livid.
"I fear," said Samuel, "that I have, without meaning it, been
the unhappy cause of all this!"
A general murmur of admiration greeted this noble offer of
the young Christian to take upon himself the blame of the jarring
cross-fire.
Mir. Brigham  started. He saw in an instant that his only
chance of salvation from the contempt of all present consisted in
a speedy and manly change in his tactics.
"I will not -be outdone in magnanimity,"   he said, extending
his hand to Samuel, with a show of deep feeling.  " Forgive me
for what I have said, and attribute it not to an ungenerous heart,
but to a hasty head i"
"Alh 1" cried the young Christian, returning the pressure, " you
make me very happy! How much better this which warms us,
than cutting words which wound!"
"May I hope for forgiveness from you, too, Miss Landon?"
added the confidential clerk, approaching her.
"If Samuel is willing to overlook your fault," returned Isabella, calmly, " I don't see why I shouldn't!"
This was said in a tone which impressed the confidential clerk
with a conviction that the speaker fully comprehended the char,
acter of his repentance. Nevertheless, he deemed it most politic
not to appear to have understood aught beyond her words.
"You are very good!" he said, with a low bow. Then resuming his seat, he muttered to himself in an under tone, "lily time
will come by-and-bye!"
"How much better," said Mr. Townsend, in his pleasant way,
although he believed about as much in the honesty of the confi13



298       WVHIcGH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
dential clerk's sincerity.s his niece did, "to dwell in peace and
concord, than, like mad dogs, in snapping and snarling at each
other 1"
"It is much pleasanter, and more becoming, at any rate,'
remarked his lady.
"'As for me," said Isabella, "I do so love a good jolly fight,
once in a while! It makes me feel better for a week!"
"So that," laughed her uncle, "for you to be perfectly happy,
it is essential that you should have a game of sharps with somebody once every seven days!"
Uncle-"
"Well, my pet?"'You are a tease!"
" Illn that case," smiled Mr. Brigham, " I shall know how to
take you in future."
" AMrr. Brigham-" said Isabella, shaking her finger playfully.
" Miss Landon?"
"You are a torment."
"I'm sure,'Bel," said Mrs. Townsend, "you will have no right
to complain if we give you a wide margin when you undertake
again to be satirically severe!"
"Aunt-"
Well, my dear?"
"You are a plague!"'Come, come," laughed Mr. Townsend, "when one's wife is
attacked in that way, it is a husband's duty to come up to her
rescue. Now, miss-do you know what you are 2?"
"Pray, sir, what am I 2" demanded his niece, placing her arms
a-kimbo, and marching up to him with an air at once so full of
hoyden mischief and mock earnestness, that it plunged all present
into a roar.  " What am I 3"
"You are-"
"Well, sir!" —shaking her head like a little old woman, who




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                299
was chuck full of spirit, and was facing another little old woman
who had been taking down her clothes-line, and was adding to the
enormity by uttering some cutting things-"' why do you pause?
If you have got anything to say, spit it out!"
"You are-"
" Well, sir-what?"
"The prettiest, pertest, sauciest, and most independent patron
of dry goods that resides in Fifteenth street!"
In another moment both uncle and niece were engaged in a
fierce battle, which terminated in favor of the latter, who waved
her handkerchief over the head of her enemy with three cheers,
and then with an'"Alone I did it!" she returned with the majestic air of a victor to her seat, to the tune of' See, the Conquering Hero Comes," which was whistled by no less an individual
than the great defeated himself-her uncle.
"Bravo 1" cried Mr. Brigham, applauding vociferously; "bravi
-bravissimi 1"
"You have a merry heart!" cried Samuel, who could not help
admiring the young lady's charming vivacity.
"And such a coquettish swing!" added Mr. Brigham, mimicking her walk.
"Ah! well," laughed Mr. Towesend, "it is fortunate we are
not all young men; or that merry heart and that coquettish
swing might be the death of some one! And that reminds me-"
"Of what, guardy?" asked Isabella.
"That we shall have a converzatione here on the twentieth.
Brigham, my boy! consider yourself invited."
"You are very good," returned that gentleman.
"And poor me, guardy {1" said Isabella.
"You are already set down for it, per order."
"By whose order, I should like to know!"
"Mr. Crittenden's!"
"Good! He will be home, then! Brass.! what a time we'll




300       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
have in tearing each other to pieces! Mr. Brigham, look out for
yourself!"
" Nay, I shall assist in the massacre," answered the confidential
clerk, with a grand display of his eloquent teeth.
"In that case, I shall look out for myself!'" cried the imperial
beauty.  "Dear-dear! what slashing there will be!  We
always do have such jolly times at Mr. Crittenden's converzationes!-But, guardy-you forgetful man!-how about Samuel?"
"How very pat she is with that hated name!" muttered Mr.
Brigham, in an under tone.
"Samuel is invited, of course, and Mirry, and all the rest of
us, and —that's all!"
"In which case," laughed Mr. Brigham, "I shall be off."'.' Oh, cruel man!" cried Isabel, striking an attitude, " tear not
thyself away!"
"What-so soon?" demanded the merchant. "It is scarcely
ten!"
"Nay, half after!" returned Mr. Brigham, consulting his repeater. "Good-night!"
"And a good riddance!" thought Isabella.
The departure of the spirit of discord —Mr. Brigham —was a
sensible relief to the party, and the evening passed away pleasantly.




CHAPTER XXI.
UPON reaching the store, one morning, Samuel took up a
morning paper, the New York Satanic Chuckle. While glancing through its editorial columns, his eye was arrested and his
mind disturbed by the following characteristic article:"ASTOUNDING FRAUD-CONSTERNATION AMONG THE CASHIERS
-A SPLENDID LIVE SPECIMEN OF THE CODFISH ARISTOCRACY
-FASHIONABLE PIETY AT A. DISCOUNT —RIOcI DEVELOPMENTS.In another column will be found the particulars of a rich scene
which came off yesterday at the Tombs. Mr. John Rankin,
Cashier of the --  Bank, was arrested by officer Bowyer, one
of the aids of the Chief of Police, charged, on the complaint of
Mr. Peter Leslie, President of the Bank, with having erlbezzled,
from time to time, within the last eight months, various sums
from the Bank, amounting in all, as nearly as can be ascertained,
to between $75,000 and $80,000, and also with having made false
entries in his accounts for the purpose, to use a delicate phrase,
of concealing his deficiencies. According to our reporter, the
appearance of the. prisoner, when brought by the officers into
court, whither he was followed by a motley crowd of street and
other loafers, among them several bank officers, who seemed to
enjoy, with wonderful zest, the woe-begone air of this specimen
of their number, was ludicrous in the extreme. He was very
much agitated; so much so, that it was with great difficulty he
cquld stand upon his feet. He was, by turns, pale and red. His
(801)




302       WVHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
teeth chattered, his hair rose up with mingled shame and terror,
and his whole aspect was that of a man who desired the earth to
open and swallow him up. The poor devil was, in fact, in the
highest state of excitement.  His white neck-cloth was turned
awry, the tie being on a line with his ears. He was bewildered,
confused, stupefied.  The evidence against him  was so strong
that the magistrate fixed his bail at the sum of $50,000; but as
no one appeared willing to run the risk of bailing the prisoner in
that amount, he was locked up without further ceremony. It
appears that the cashier has, for nearly a year past, been a constant habitue of Pat Hearne's extensive gambling establishment,
on Broadway, at which famotis hell he is said to have lost every
dollar of his own, as well as of the successive amounts which, it is
alleged, he abstracted from the Bank.  He is said to be the father
of a large and interesting family, who, it is needless to add, are
thrown into the profoundest consternation and affliction by the
culpability of their head. The prisoner has been living in
splendid style among the codfish aristocracy, of which delectable
order he was, up to yesterday, a very prominent member.  We
also learn that he is a very pious and leading member of the
Rev. Dr. Engold's church, where he is said to hold a pew at the
very moderate rent of eight hundred dollars!
"P. S.-Since the above was written, the prisoner has given
the finishing touch to his guilty career, by adding to his previous
catalogue of crimes that of self-murder.  The keeper, Mr.
Sniffen, upon looking into the prisoner's cell, at twelve o'clock
last night, found him lying upon the floor, weltering in his blood.
I-le had succeeded, with the assistance of a small pocket-knife,
which was found near hil, in opening a vein in his left arm, and
had bled to death. When discovered by the keeper, life was
extinct-thus furnishing another chapter to the great volume of
human folly. So we go!"




WHICH: TRE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                 3(03
Samuel was shocked; not more at the frightful picture which
the article presented of a soul reeking with the smoke and
freshness of its guilt, rushing, madly and unrepentant, up to the
stern bar of its Creator, than at the cold-blooded tone of the
article itself-as if its writer were a second Satan, and chuckled
over the sinful tendencies of poor humanity; as if he enjoyed
the opportunity which the subject afforded him to banquet, with
devilish mockery, upon a fellow-creature's ruin, upon the complete overthrow of another soul; as if he gloated over the havoc
which sin was making in society; as if John Rankin's crime,
John Rankin's hypocrisy, John Rankin's suicide, John Rankin's
eternal spiritual destruction, and the shame, humiliation, grief,
and temporal distress of John Rankin's widow, and John Ranllkin's
little ones, together with all the John Rankins, past, present, and
to come, and all the iniquity of the age, and the swiftness with
which the age itself, and all of it, and all following it, were driving, pell-mell, to everlasting destruction, were-all summed up
in one-a great, philosophic, side-splitting JOKE!
The paper fell from the young Christian's hand.
"Ah," he murmured, with an air of pain, "how the press
needs purifying! If I thought, now, that the heart of that bad
man could be reached by a letter, or by a personal appeal!
But, no," he added, after a few moments of further reflection,
"both would be useless.  He would sneer at them, as he does
at the lightning speed with which men are hurrying to his Master.  Who sees his fellow-creatures struggling in the gulf, and
instead of putting out his energies to their rescue, mocks at
them-"
"Samuel," interrupted Charley Gibbs, "a dealer from Norwich, New York, desires to see you. Another new customer!"
The day wore away, and evening came. Tea was over, and
Samuel put on his hat.
"Are you going out?" inquired Mrs. Townsend.




304      WVHIC: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
Samuel replied in the affirmative.
"You are never at home any more!" observed Isabella, with
playful petulance. "Why can't you spare us an evening, you
naughty truant?"
"Business!" replied Salnuel, with suggestive brevity.
"Important?" asked Isabella.
"My MASTER'S!" returned Samuel.
The ladies, followed by TMr. Townsend, passed into the drawing-room, and Samuel into the street.
" Sonething is on his mind," remarked Mrs. Townsend, seating herself by the centre-table.
"He's pondering over that sad affair of Mr. Rankin's," said
Isabella.
"' What makes you think so l" inquired her uncle.
"Because he appeared to listen with so much interest to our
discussion of the subject during tea."
Miriam made no remark. She was reflecting upon the unhappy position of the suicide's family, and considering what she
could do to mitigate the severity of their affliction.
At this moment Mr. Brigham was announced.  But as nothing
of any importance followed that worthy's appearance, we shall
follow our hero, whose every word, and thought, and act, always
had a meaning and a purpose.
Samuel sped down to Tenth-street. His step was hasty, his
brow thoughtful, and his general air pregnant with earnestness.
In ten minutes he was standing at the door of his pastor's, with
his hand upon the bell-pull.
A servant answered the summons, and upon.earning whom
he desired to see, showed him into the parlor.
Samuel seated himself, and looked down musingly. He had
called upon a, to him, important business; a business which required delicacy and nerve; which might be regarded as offensive; which might be construed into an insult; and which might




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              305
make an enemy of a friend. Nevertheless, he felt that his motive
was a good one, and he determined to face the subject manfully.
"Help, Lord —help!" he murmured, reverentially.  "Be
Thou with me in this, as in seven others of its kind-for Thy
dear Son's sake!"
A ray of light, filling him with its radiance and warmth,
glowed in the young Christian's heart, and he knew that his
prayer had been heard and answered.
His countenance beamed with mingled gratitude and joy.
" Thou art with me! I feel Thy stirring Presence. Glory to
Thee!-glory!" he murmured.
An approaching step echoed upon the soft, spongy carpet.
Samuel raised his head.
A tall, graceful, dignified, and well-made personage —with the
bearing and manner of a gentleman, and the calm, thoughtful
air of a student-stood before and was looking down upon him
with a glance of paternal benignity.
The Rev. Mr. Engold was what is termed a fashionable
preacher. That is to say, he was the pastor of a fashionable
church, whose congregation was made up of wealthy and fashionable people, who did not object to pay him four thousand dollars
per year for his professional services, because they could afford
to pay him that amount, and because he wAS WORTH IT. Mr.
Engold was a ripe scholar, an acute thinker, and a graceful declaimer. Possessing the refined instincts of a gentleman, he was
mild, courteous, and dignified in his deportment. Endowed with
a large mind, he was noted for the depth and comprehensiveness
of his views. Gifted with a noble heart, he was naturally chivalrous, and humane. But being of a delicate, sensitive, and retiring disposition, he rarely ventured abroad, except when called
upon by his professional duties, preferring the companionship of
his family, and the privacy of his study, to all the society in the
world.




800       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
The clergyman pressed the hand of his visitor with mingled
dignity and kindness.
"I am happy to see and welcome you, brother," he said. "I
should b~ glad to have you visit me oftener than you do. But
knowing the character of your time and occupation, I presume I
must forego that happiness. I received from you, to-day, a note
stating that you would call upon me this evening, in the hope of
finding me at leisure."
Samuel bowed.
"Permit me to add," said the clergyman, with an encouraging smile, " that you could not have chosen a happier time."
"You are very kind," returned his visitor, gratefully.  " I have
come," he added, "to counsel with you upon an important
topic: —Earnest preaching."
" An important topic, indeed, and one which it will give mne
much pleasure to converse upon."
" You make me very happy! I want to talk with you upon
it in a way which will do us both good; in a way which will
warm both your breast and mine; in a way which, whatever I
may say, will not lessen me in your esteem, nor deprive me of
your friendship."
"Say on, sir," said the clergyman, betraying, in spite of himself, a slight degree of surprise.
I want," pursued Samuel, who was somewhat disturbed by
the change in his pastor's manner, " to talk with you in a cordial, brotherly tone-like two hearts that love and esteem one
another, and who would not dream for an instant that either
could have for the other any but the highest, purest, and tenderest good-will!"
The clergyman regarded his visitor for a moment or two in
silence, and then said, in a voice at once frank and reassuringOne word! I enjoy the acquaintance of a young man who
is noted for his rare devotedness to his Redeemer.  It is said




WHICH: TH:E RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              307
of him, that he has never spoken an unmanly or unchristian
word; that from his lips come forth, daily, utterances which
put to shame the loftiest of human wisdom; that he never enters
a roiom without imparting to all in it the sunshine and the odor
of his own pure, artless spirit; that he wanders, like a spirit of
good, among the haunts of the vicious and outcast, and persuades their votaries, one by one, back to virtue and morality;
that he glides from garret to cellar, and from barrack to hovel,
among the poor, who love and.revere him, as their only true
earthly counsellor and benefactor-bringing food to the hungry,
raiment to the naked, money to the impoverished, medicine to
the ill, encouragement to the despairing-procuring work for the
capable, advice for the troubled, consolation for the afflicted,
credit for the creditless-wiping off the little debts of the ill and
broken, putting sound, practical thoughts into the minds of the
shiftless, giving tone, strength, and direction to the wavering:
and leading all, step by step, like little children, up to the feet
of Jesus."
" You know of one like that?" cried Samuel, with an air of
mixed wonder and delight. 1" A noble heart! A gallant heart!
A TRUE man! Oh, sir, acquaint me with him, too!"
The clergyman smiled, and continued:" This young man is not my friend alone, but every one's who
is in trouble, in error, or in need. Of himself, he thinks never;
of the service he can be to his Prince and his fellow-beings
-always.  Knowing of the immeasurable happiness which follows upon a familiar acquaintance with his beloved Redeemer,
his every thought is given to bringing his fellow-men to a participation in the same happiness, early and at once."
" A noble heart!" cried Samuel, joyfully.  " How' I long to
know him! He could teach me what to do, to better serve our
Prince. You will introduce me to him-will you not?  ()h,




308       WHEIII: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
what great things we could do together for the extension of our
Master's kingdom!"
The clergyman went on, as if he had not heard him:"M y young friend is inspired from time to time with noble
conceptions of noble enterprises."
"Ah! sir, how could he else, when he is in the confidence of
our Prince?"
"He has planned an organization, which is made up of young
clerks in his own business —ot young clerks, who will be future
merchants.  The object of this association is three-fold: first, to
imbue each of its members with a firm determination to do
business upon the single principle of strict honesty, when they
shall themselves become merchants, and to adhere to that principle throughout their clerkships; secondly, to become active,
energetic followers of their Prince-to bend their minds and
hearts to the bringing of men to Christ, to helping those who
cannot help themselves, to scattering messages of salvation, to
rescuing their fellow-beings from temporal want, mental darkness, and spiritual misery; and, thirdly, to spare no pains to
urge their acquaintance in the same business to start similar
associations in their respective houses, and thus lay the nucleus
of a future generation of Christian Merchants, whose every transactionshall be governed, not by the law of Greed, but by the
Law of God!"
Samuel blushed. He began, at length, to comprehend the original of his pastor's portrait.
The latter smiled quietly, and added"This young man's ideas work: because they are suggested
from On High. His association, which was begun with six, now
counts seventy members, who are engaged in various houses in
the dry goods trade; all of them Christians-brave, earnest, selfdenying youth-and all exerting an influence for good in their
respective establishments.  Think: seventy true Christian men,




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                309
working together to lay the foundation of their Master's Church
in their own branch of Commerce, and looking forward, like
true men in the Lord! to the time when every house in the Dry
Goods Trade shall be a branch, an arm, and a pillar of the One
Temple! Seventy leal subjects of Our Prince, and all partak
ing of the gentle, fervent, humane spirit of their leader! What
may they not perform! Every otherwise unemployed moment
in the day is given to kind suggestions to their fellow-clerks to
come up and find joy in the work of the Lord.  In the nightlook for these gallant youth! Once a week, they meet in the
packing-room of the house where their leader is employed, to
report tho results of their labors for the week, and to renew
their strength with fresh draughts of exhilarating prayer.  Five
nights in the week, they scatter, sometimes in couples, but in the
main, singly, and apparently disappear.  Would you know
whither they go? Listen: There are in this great city districts
around which Poverty has drawn a cordon which forbids the ingress or egress of all save the lowliest poor.  The tenements in
these' districts are old, broken, and decayed. Each apartment in
these tenements is the abode of an entire family, made up sometimes of only two, but oftener of six, persons: so that each house
of three stories not unfrequently gives shelter to fifty wretched
beings, who, nine times in ten, know as little of God as of cleanliness or comfort. From cellar to garret, they nestle in swarms,
amid squalor, dirt, ignorance, disease, and misery. Say there are
five hundred houses —in some, the number is greater!-like
these, in each of Poverty's districts-what a field for the philanthropist and the Christian.! Come night, and look for the seventy!
They are toiling up the broken stairways of these tenementshalting at every door, leaving advice, encouragement, tracts,
Bibles, bread and money to the inmates of each, as their wants
may suggest; getting one work, giving to another help, another
encouragement, and inviting all to go up to Him whose smile




310       WHICH: THE IIGHT, ORt THE LEFT.
makes equal or poverty or wealth; bringing joy to the hearts
of all, and leading now one, and then another, to His feet. Ah!
who shall measure the pangs assuaged, the suffering averted, the
sweet counsels given, the bitter thoughts removed, or the hearts
led from darkness up to light, by this noble Christian band!"
Samuel was blushingly silent.
"IRecently," continued the clergyman, "the leader of this
glorious organization, zealous ever in the promotion of the operations of his Redeemer, has undertaken another task-to arouse
the pulpit to an earnest prosecution of its work. But here I
must pause: for save a few stray rumors, which may, or may
not, be authentic, I know but little, but of which I should be glad
to be wholly informed.  I have gone over these facts in the history of my young friend, to show you, sir, that I appreciate the
character of him who says to me that he desires to converse
with me upon an important topic, and that he does not wish me
to take offence, since offence is in nowise meant, at whatever he
may say.  Let me add, that in the breast of Henry Engold,
whatever may be thought or said of him in the world, there beats
a heart whose every throb is for Humanity and God!"
"Ah! sir," cried Samuel, who was visibly distressed, " never
have I, for one moment, doubted the motive of your work —
never, for one moment, your loyalty or well meaning!"
" I thank you, sir!" returned the clergyman, gratefully. "And
now that we understand one another, let us converse frankly,
bravely-not like men, talking to each other's ears, but, like
Christians, to each other's hearts!"
{" You are very kind, sir! How, in that noble suggestion, do
I recognize the pure ore, the sterling ring, of a brother!"
"Let us be frank, brother!" said the clergyman, in a voice
whose quivering tone was accompanied by a moisture in his
eyes.'" Come, begin."
Samluel was disturbed; but mastering his emotion, he said



WTlrcIi: THE RIGHIT, OR THE LEFT.             311
"The human heart, my brother, is like the field of a husbandman, who rooted out all the weeds and stones, who ploughed well,
sowed well, and reaped a rich harvest for his pains. The
spiritual husbandman who would glean well, must plough well,
and sow well, or his harvest will be scant."
"That is true!" observed his auditor, after a few moments of
reflection.
"My brother,' said the young man, solemnly, "thou hast
labored long upon thy field."
"I have.  Go on. Spare me not!" said the clergyman.
"Thou hast seen the rocks and the weeds?"
" I have."
" My brother, what hast thou gleaned-my brother, where is
thy harvest?" said the young Christian, mournfully.
The clergyman started, and turned pale.
" f~y harvest?" he stammered.
"Thine?"
The clergyman stared at his interlocutor, and breathed hard.
"Here," said the young man, drawing a paper from  his
pocket, opening it, and pointing, with a sad but firm gesture to
an article upon the editorial page, "read that!"
The article was that which Samuel had read in the morning,
concerning the defaulting cashier.
The clergyman had already perused the details of the sad
affair in another journal. He ran his eyes, nevertheless, through
the editorial in questions-blushing at the sight of his own name
-and trembling with mingled scorn and indignation at the low,
scurrilous, mocking tone which pervaded the article itself.
"The concoction of a beastly and malignant mind, which appears to revel in the consciousness of its own and others' evil!"
he observed, as, with a nervous shudder, he permitted the paper
to slide through his fingers to the floor. " I hope, Samuel-but,




312       WHIcH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
no, why ask such a question of you? You could not be a regular
reader of so infamous a sheet as that 2"
" You are right, my brother-I could not. I saw it by chance,
this morning, at the store, for the first, and, as I hope the last time!
I brought it with me, in part that you might see how Satan's
chief organ-for I hear that of all ribald journals, it is the most
widely read —chuckles over each new evidence of weakness in
humanity, and every fresh instance of degeneracy among the
people of Our Prince; and in part that you might yourself see
the fruits-not yours alone, my brother, for the style was begun
and sanctioned by custom  long ere you were born! but-of a
kind of preaching which is doing more for Satan and less for
Christ than men dream of —aye, even more than that dark chuckling thing upon the floor!"
"Me, brother!" cried his agitated pastor, staring at him in
mingled mournfulness, reproach, and  bewilderment.  "You
accuse me of coldness, indifference, neglect-me!"
"' For none of these!" returned Samuel, gently.  "0, nofor none of these! And yet-the FRUITS!"
The clergyman breathed hard and audibly.
"The fruits 2" he repeated.
"John Rankin, thief, gambler, and self-murderer-Peter Jones,
fraudulent bankrupt, and betrayer of his own wife and childAMrs. Jane Clarke, his paramour, the willing violator of her own
marriage vow —"
"Hold, in mercy, brother! What could do I for these?
Their own hearts were set on evil!"
"I say unto you, my brother-ah! I say it not unkindly!that these are not all of the members of your church who have
fallen or will fall!"
"H' ow know you the latter?"
" By that standard which deceives not-Want of piety!"




WaIChi: THE RIGHT, OR TiS  LEnI.           313
"In my people 2"
"Ask your heart, my brother, how many in all your congregation meet the Christian's mark?"
The clergyman reflected, and his brow became clouded with
an air of pain.
"I would not judge!" he said, rising and pacing the floor in
deep agitation.
"Giving to its two hundred members and its four hundred
pew-renters every generous latitude-how many evince a
solemn, earnest interest in their own salvation, and in the extension of their Redeemer's Kingdom?  How many 2"
The clergyman resumed his seat, and shading his eyes with
his hands, breathed hard, but made no reply.
"Shall I go on 2" asked Samuel, mournfully.
His auditor made a sign in the affirmative.
" I will answer for you," said the young man, touched to the
heart by his pastor's sufferings. I' There are five-five only who
give hope that they are of the Ransomed. Oh, my brother, how
small a number, from so many! And of these five, four were
leal subjects to Our Prince ere your coming as their shepherd;
while the fifth was blessed through the instrumentality of another
in a neighboring city. My brother-my brother! The weeds
and the stones in the hearts of your people have been sadly
rooted out "!
"Nay," said his pastor, hoarsely, " you are unkind! You
chide me for no fault of mine. I have preached and prayed —I
have suggested and advised. What could I do more?"
"Listen, brother: To the great work of upbuilding the
Temple of our Lord, able men come up every year in thousands.
Mi[any enter the grounds, but only a few are of service. Not
because the unthrifty have not thews and sinews like the thrifty,
but because they do not come up like workmen.  They toil, and
toil, and toil, but their united labors are as naught to the advance14




314      WHnICH: THE RIGHT, OG  THE LEFT.
ment of the common cause. They work, and work, and work;
but at the end of the season, they cannot point to a stone that
they have laid, to a pillar that they have raised, nor to a beam
that they have set. And yet they know that they have labored,
faithfully and hard, eagerly and long. They look around, in
doubt and dismay, for the fruits of their labors, but find them
not. They rub their eyes, and look again; but with no better
success than before. There are no fruits; or if there be, they
are lying aside among the spoiled castaway refuse-which any
stranger is free to come in and take away. And why? Because
the unthrifty toilers worked not with their Master's tools, butTHEIR OWN!"
The clergymnau started up, and paced the apartment as before,
in profound agitation.
Samuel observed him, and went on:
" Our Prince is the kindest of all masters.  When He invites
His people to come up to His work, He provides them with
fitting tools-tools which are reliable, and easy to the hand.
Who uses them, gains ground; who discards them, and takes up
others of their own, advances not. Neither the arches nor the
walls, nor yet the pillars, nor the altar, nor any part soever of,kis temple, can be worked with implements wrought by human
iands!"
"Go on, brother. Strike deep and spare not!" cried the clergyman, who was pale and trembling, but yet firm and decided in
heart. "It is my conscience which you are addressing, and not
me! If I have been unthrifty,'tis time that I should change;
for'tis my desire to advance my Master's work, and not retard
it by standing in the way, or making work which shall be cast
aside. I affirm it before Him and you, that my heart is eager
and willing for His cause!"
"I think it, and know it, dear brother," said his visitor, taking
his hand, "or I had not spoken as I have!"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                315' I thank you for it, brother!" answered his pastor, returning
his warm pressure.  "And now, go on! I submit frankly to the
justness of your reproof, and receive your counsel as generously
as it is meant. Proceed!"
"Nay, not now," said the young man, with an air of deep tenderness and sympathy; "you are pale, agitated-"
"No matter," returned the clergyman, with a grateful smile,
"'I am all right here, and I will go through with this like one
whose only fear is of his Maker's frown. Go on, my brother!
You have spoken bravely, nobly, manfully, and I esteem you
for it the more. Go on! The storm which you have raised in
my breast, it is fit you help me to allay, or I shall suffer more
than I can bear-more, let me hope, than I deserve, seeing that
my error has come not so much from a weak or wilful heart,
as from a want of thoughtfulness in head! Go on!"
"I thank you, brother. There are two kinds of preachingthat which keeps the preacher before the minds of his auditory,
and that which keeps the subject. The former is man's tool, the
latter is of God. The first may fill the pews with renters; but
the second does better, for it fills them with honest converts.
Every pastor should aim to so preach that his own individuality
shall disappear in his subject, and naught be left upon the minds
of his hearers but the goodness of their Redeemer, the solemn
consciousness of their own peril, and the imperative necessity of
immediate repentance. Every discourse that does not this, may
be faultless and masterly as a composition; but as a sermon, it is
a mournful and humiliating failure."
"I confess to the truthfulness of this," said the clergyman,
frankly.  "But reflect.  The class for whom  I preach are the
most worldly intelligent. Should I abandon the eloquence of
talent, and the polish of the scholar, they would abandon my
church, and I should be left to empty benches-thereby depriving,me of the means of reaching their hearts at all."




316      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR T:HE LEFT.
"Nay, hold on to both with a firm hand! For who so dleserving of our highest talents and accomplishments as Our Redeemer?  What topic calls so imperatively for the mind's choicest jewels as THE DIVINE MESSAGE!   Only so employ these,jewels in their setting, that the world shall see that they are set
to beautify the Message, and not the preacher."
" Surely, if I know my heart, that is my intent i'
"But the world don't see it so! Herein the error, and the
necessity of a struggle which shall enable the world to see, at a
single glance, your aim. When men can see THAT, they will give
heed the quicker to the Message which you bring. For men's
hearts," added his visitor, with a mournful smile, "are cold, suspicious, and wilfully incredulous things. Who comes to them in
Christ's name, must be simple, earnest, and dignified, like Christ,
or they will none of him, when he would speak to them of Christ.
The man first-his message afterwards.  As they are satisfied
of him, so give they ear to the message that he bears. Say they
find, by watching —for they will watch, yea, and suspect him,
too, and that for a long time! —that he is a mere utterer of
words, and that his dailv deportment corresponds not with his
professions, they will listen to him as to one who believes not
himself what he is saying,; nor will they believe it either, and
thus become lost, because they cannot and do not believe in
him. But let them once discover that he is himself true-that
he calls up his great eloquence and rare scholarship simply to
lend beauty and attractiveness to the grandeur of his Theme, and
not to call their attention to himself, then they give attent ear,
for the first time, to the Message, and are saved, because they
have at length gained confidence ill the man! Therefore it is,
when our preachers are neglectful or forgetful of this distinction,
that no blessing follows their labors, let them  struggle with
what zealousness and unceasingness they will!"
" You are right, brother. I see it, feel it, and thank you. fc:




WVHICH: THE RIG:HT, OR THE LEFT.             317
the suggestion. Rightly is it said of you that you never enter a
room without leaving better and juster thoughts than prevailed
there before your coming. Again, I thank you; knowing as I do
that you have only spoken for my good, and that I might see why
I have not done more of good to others heretofore. But enough,
I shall strive to take advantage of your kind counsel; and by
my deportment in the future make some atonement to men and
Our Master for my unintentional error in the past!"
" Oh, sir," cried his visitor, " you make me very happy. I knew
you would say this, and resolve this, ere I came; and it fills me
with glad joy to learn that I did not misjudge the spirit of my
pastor. And besides, I was assured, by our Lord, in answer to
a petition, that He would be with me in this interview!"
The clergyman looked with an air of mingled love and reverence upon this man, whose purity, gentleness, and piety of heart
enabled him to hold a conscious intercourse with GOD.
"W Vhen was this?" he asked.
" A moment ere you entered," returned Samuel.
The brow of the worthy clergyman brightened, and his frame
trembled with a feeling of ineffable delight.
"Joy-joy!" he exclaimed.' Our Lord visited you in my
house?.  Oh! does not that prove that He, in His great goodness,
kindly remembers His unworthy servant, and that I-He will bless
my resolution?  Glory to Thee!" he added, with a grateful
gesture; "glory-glory!  Never shall I cease to do Thy willnor to praise Thy holy name!"
Let us praise Him together!" cried Samuel, with emotion.
"Aye, as one heart!" said his pastor.
And both fell upon their knees, and stretching up their hands,
bur:st out"Glory to God on high I
Let earth and skies reply,
Praise ye His name;




318      VWHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
His love and grace adore,
Who all our sorrows bore,
Sing loud for evermore,
Worthy the Lamb.
Jesus, our Lord and God,
Bore sin's tremendous load,
Praise ye His name;
Tell what His arm has done,
What spoils from death He wono
Sing His great name alone,
Worthy the Lamb.
While they around the throne,
Cheerfully join in one,
Praising His name;
Those who have felt His blood
Sealing their peace with God,
Sound His dear fame abroad,
Worthy the Lamb.
Join, all ye ransomed race,
Our holy Lord to bless;
Praise ye His nameIn Him we will rejoice,
And make a joyful noise,
Shouting with heart and voiee,
Worthy the Lamb."




CHAPTER XXII.
THE second Sabbath following the young Christian's interview
with the "fashionable preacher" was an important one in the
history of that gentleman's ministerial career, as well as in that
of his church. Samuel had, meanwhile, seen the trustees, together with many of the members of the church, and obtained
a pledge from each to lend their assistance to their pastor in his
endeavor to wake up his people from their surface piety, and
imbue them with a solemn sense of vitalizing grace. The parties were faithful to their promise; and they were careful to prepare their acquaintance in the society for the event. This preparation led, of course, to considerable conversation; the conversation to religious discussion; the discussion to a general
resurrection of long dormant ideas; these to a certain degree of
self-examination; and this to not a little religious feeling: all of
which resulted in a universal determination to sustain Mr. Engold in his new effort to arouse his congregation from their spiritual palsy.
The momentous day at length came round. The church was
filled to its utmost capacity with an assemblage of brilliant, but,
in the main, irreligious intelligences.  The trustees, most of
whom  possessed only a faint knowledge of their Redeemer,
shared in the general wish that the day might not pass away without blessing-somebody.  As for themselves, they didn't think
that genuine piety would pay-them! They had a notion that
" the real thing was hardly the thing for-them."  " They were in
business; and the pressure of com petition IN business would not
(319)




320      WHIICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
allow it; and, besides, society would scout at a man who was
really pious."  And they-they lived in society. Urnm! Independently of these considerations, they had always professed to
be religious; and it would " hardly do" to permit themselves to
be converted, because that would have the effect of unmasking
them, and of showiig them up in their true colors; and so, on
the whole, they thought that, so far as they were themselves
concerned, the" real thing" wouldn't pay-just yet. One of these
days, when their pecuniary circumstances-that is, their business
-should render them a little more independent, they meant to
give the subject some serious consideration; because then they
would be' in a position" to " do as they pleased,'" and to "' act
upon their convictions."  But, " at present" they " couldn't afford
it," and, therefore, it " wouldn't pay." And so, as they could not
hope for themselves, they hoped, very heartily, for —somebody
else.
The members, whose piety was about as deep as that of the
trustees, were equally as concerned for the welfare of —others.
They didn't think that they were themselves in any very great
spiritual want, because they were already within the ark —so far
as the world knew. But then they designed to be really so-at
some future time. Just then, however, as they were in business
and society, anrd as neither business nor society would permit a
person to be very pious, they thought that they were about as
pious as they could afford to be. But there was Mr. Smith,
who had retired from  business, and had now nothing to do but
to amuse himself-he COULD afford it, and they really hoped he
would. Then there was Mrs. Griggs, a rich widow, who had': got off " her daughters, and who had, therefore, no reasonable
excuse for humbugging. the world or herself any longer, she
MIGHT take hold of the real thing in earnest, and they trusted that
she would. Mr. Lester, too; he was rich enough-worth three
or four millions, at least-and he could afford to go into it, and




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               321
they hoped and prayed that he wouldn't neglect the opportunity.
Mrs. Allen could afford it also. She was the wife of a really
pious man, who would give worlds for her conversion. She had
no daughters to work off; was in easy circumstances-worth
some eight hundred thousand or so, and with nothing on earth to
prevent her from  doing just as she pleased; and she might
throw off her transparent humbug, and take hold of the real
thing, just as well as not.  They would, if they were in her
place-quicker! As for themselves, they intended to do so,
one of these days, any how; that is, when they were a little
richer, a little older, and a little more tired of the humbug of
society. Why, then, couldn't the Smiths, the Griggses, the Lesters, and the Allens pluck -up, as they designed to do when they
should be as rich and old as the Smiths, the Griggses, the Lesters, and the Allens, and as every really sincere person who was
old enough, and rich enough to afford it, ouyht to do?
As for the retired Mr. Smith himself; he thought, now that he
was rich and could afford to do as he pleased, that he would
amuse himself by studying society. He opined that it would
be time enough to take hold of the real thing after he had got
through with his amusements. At present, however, the surface
article would " answer. his purpose" very well. The real thing
might interfere with his plans, and hurt him; and as he was now
in the possession and enjoyment of his plum, he didn't want to
be interfered with, nor hurt, either. Still, as he felt an interest
in the Lord's business, he was not " unwilling" to "' lend his influence" to the Holy Spirit in "' pushing things on."'
Mrs. Griggs thought that, now that she had got off her daughters, the next best thing she could do would be to get herself off.
She had several gentlemen in her eye, and as she was blessed
with a large stock of self-confidence, she flattered herself that
she could wing either one of them, easily, when she had once
made up her mind which to ailm for. After that should be ac14'




322      WNHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
complished, she proposed to throw aside her convenient piety,
and embrace the genuine article with all her heart. To be sure
she felt a lively interest in her Redeemer's affairs, and she would
cheerfully do all she could, so far as her influence would go, to
advance them; but she had her own affairs to look after, and she
should, of course, have to give them " the preference."  There
were the Townsends, however: they had no special object in the
way, and they might as well drop their surface humbug as not,
and she would be glad to see them do it. A little of the real
thing would do them good. And the Johnsons, too-they were
in want of genuine religion about as much as anybody she
could name; and if they would only consent to "take it up," she
felt quite sure. that it would be a great blessing, not only to
themselves, but to the world.
Mr. Lester had an idea that three or four millions were nothing. If he had eight, now, or even six, he thought that he
might perhaps persuade himself to drop his easy piety; and take
hold of the real thing with his whole heart. But at present, he
couldn't afford it. He was too poor. Besides, if he should attempt to do so, he couldn't succeed. His heart was upon his
money, and upon the three or four other millions in perspective.
He thought that some of the young men might yield to whatever influence should come down from above —easily. They had
no money, and no prospect of any-that is, in comparison with
amounts like his. Therefore, having nothing to give up, no sacrifices to make, they might as well take hold of the real thing
as not. He would, if he was in their position-right quickly.
Mrs. Allen wasn't tired enough of the world yet, to take hold
of religion in earnest. She found herself comfortable.  Society's
piety agreed with her very well-for the present; she had no
desire to go over to the real thing-just yet. She meant to do
so,. at some future day, but that day had not yet dawned. But,
of course, it would comer one of these days, and when it came




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               323
she meant to be prepared for it. But at present she felt no dis
position to depart from her usual course. She liked society, and
society's dear, easy ways, too well for that.  But then all people were not like her. Some people needed real piety more than
others. There was Mrs. Jenkins, for instance, and Mrs. De Witt
too. A little genzuine religion wouldn't hurt them a bit. But as
for herself, she didn't see any absolute necessity of it, just then;
and until she did, she thought she could get along very well with
the kind of piety that she had.
The Townsends didn't know what to think. They had an
impression that there might be something in religion, but they
were not sure. Of course they affected to believe in it-everybody did-but they were not so certain that it wasn't considerable of a humbug, after all. Those who pretended to believe in
it most, were, so far as they knew, specious rascals, who only
used it —for their own purposes. Still they were not unwilling to
see their acquaintance take hold of it; but as for themselves,
they didn't think that it would hardly pay.
The Johnsons didn't give themselves any anxiety about the
matter at all.  While they did not absolutely disbelieve in
religion, they had an idea that it " wouldn't answer" for them to
go into it any further than they, had already. It " wouldn't do."
The old gentleman's business-money "exchanging" and selling
lottery tickets on the sly —wouldn't admit of it. So where was
the use of "touching it?"  Nevertheless, as the old gentleman
had a "good feeling" for the " Church," he had " no objections" to
seeing a better state of things in it. He "deplored" surface
piety as much as any man; but what could he do? If he should
take hold of the real thing, his conscience wouldn't permit him
to continue selling policy tickets; and what would become of
him and of his family, if he were to give that up?  No; it
wouldn't do. Surface piety was'"about as far" as he could go,
or his family either. Nevertheless, hM lived in hope that a few




324        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
more years would put him in a position to do as he liked; and
when that time came round, he meant to take hold of the real
thing like a man, and persuade his family into the same course
also. In the meanwhile, he was "quite willing" that other people should do just as they pleased, in the matter; nay, morehe would " encourage"' them and religion too, all he could, "conveniently."
The unconverted pew-renters, never having put on the robes
of convenient piety, were considering whether they could afford
to receive the Holy Spirit, in case it should conclude to visit
them!  They had their opinion of the members' piety, and
thought that if they should themselves be influenced into an
open profession of religion, that their piety would be of a little
different character to that of the pretentious "members."  But
upon " looking at the subject in all its bearings," they did not believe that they could afford to be very pious-just yet. Business
wouldn't allow it —Society wouldn't allow it; and if Business
and Society wouldn't, what WOULD    To be sure, they could
easily afford to be as pious as the members, but then they didn't
regard that kind of piety as of any very great importance.  It is
true it might help one some in business, but not very much-and
a little in society, too, but not so very greatly, seeing that they
were already pretty well established in the one and tolerably
well received in the other.  On the whole, they didn't think it
was much of an object! In fact, with their view of what religion
DEMANDED of its professors, they were inclined to believe that
they had no very great desire to become professors-just at present. Still they thought that it would be a " capital thing" for
certain of their fellow pew-renters, and particularly for many
of the members, to be "touched from On High."   They-the
members-wanted "' something of that kind" very much.
The strangers-and there were many of them-having come
simply out of curiosity, were there to " take the chances." They




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               325
anticipated "something rich," because their friends among the
members and pew-renters had informed them that Mr. Engoldof whose eloquence and finished rhetoric they had often heardwas going to make a "great effort" on that Sabbath, and they
wanted all their friends to be present:-not so much for any
great good that might come of it, but just to let their friends see
what a "powerful man" their pastor was when he felt disposed
to -" let himself out." And so the friends-that is, to say, the
strangers-had come to see Mr. Engold " let himself out."
But notwithstanding all this, there were many in the congregation who had given no thought to the matter at all, and who,
like the strangers, were ready to " take the chances." If the sermon should prove a rouser, well; if it should elicit their admiration, well; if it should wake them up, well; if it should
storm their hearts, and set them in flame, well; and if it
should only serve —although they had their doubts of thatto put them into a quiet doze —well.
And yet all hoped that good would result from the discourse
to-somebody.
The Townsends were in their pew, looking very pious, and
aristocratically humble.
Isabella Landon, knowing that it was going to be a great day
in the church-that is to say, that an unusual number of strangers would be there —and having spent three hours at her toilet,
in anticipation of several new conquests, was looking as killingly
meek and interestingly pious as a young lady could be expected
to look, who had nothing in life to do except to patronize herself
and " assist" society in its general exhibitions.
Miriam  Selden-who, poor, unsophisticated thing! always
thought that God's house was the last place in the world in which
to make a " display"-was so neatly but plainly dressed, that she
might easily have passed for some obscure person who had got




&26      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
into the church either by mistake, or through the carelessness of
the sexton.
Samuel was making himself useful in helping strangers to
seats, and in tranquillizing some late members and pew-renters
whose slips had been coolly taken possession of by certain earlier
individuals, who, having inherited an unusual share of self-confidence, had no notion of waiting to be invited, but walked right
in, seated themselves comfortably, and closing the door, looked
around them with an air of easy independence and ineffable
satisfaction.
As the time drew near for the opening of the morning service, all eyes were turned anxiously towards the pulpit. But
the pastor had not yet xnade his appearance. Could the congregation have looked into the ante-room, they would have seen
him upon his knees, fervently imploring his Master to be with
him in his approaching effort to penetrate the hearts of those of
his charge who were "too poor" to afford the Saviour of men a
single solemn thought, when they desired so much for themselves.
At length there was a fluttering of silks and feathers in the
brilliant auditory; a general smile of mingled joy, pride, and
satisfaction; a quick, hurried breathing of enthusiastic hearts;
a low whisper of "There he is!" andMr. Engold was in the pulpit.
He was pale, but self-possessed. As he rose, in prayer, a
thrill of hopefulness and affection swept through the congregation. The impressiveness of his air, the earnestness and humility
of his manner, the scholarly tone of his features, the manly
grandeur of his general deportment, and the mild benignity of
his glance, subdued all hearts, like an invisible power, and bowed
them into a, to them, novel feeling-meekness.
The clergyman spoke; and every heart was touched as with
an electric shock: for his tone and manner told his auditors that




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               327
he was communing with JEHOVAH like one who was conscious
WHOM he was addressing 
A sense of awe, humility, and human impotence crept over
the assemblage.
A solemn stillness, broken only by the voice of the petitioner,
reigned throughout the temple.
Not one in all the throng, that did not feel the sacredness of
the place.
It was a touching, contrite, and humble prayer-without a
solitary grain of affectation, heaviness, mannerism, or monotony,
for the smallest or lightest mind to carp at.
It suggested nothing but itself-a prayer from  an humble
heart to its dear Creator!
It was not with the artlessness of a child-but the appeal of
a great manly heart and a noble intellect bowed down to a sense
of their own nothingness when in the presence of Almighty
GOD.
A stirring, thrilling, awe-subduing prayer-which made beauty
forget her beauty, wealth its millions and its pride, ambition its
feverish dream, disappointment its sorrow, envy its bitterness,
and display its littleness.
At its close, the assembly experienced a grateful sense of
relief: they felt that for that brief season of sincere humility
they had been rewarded by a refreshing shower from On High!
The hymn that followed was not, as formerly, confined alone
to the choir. Every voice joined in it with spontaneous and
enthusiastic acclaim.
The sermon was a bold, eloquent, and startling picture of
man's relations to his Creator. It was presented with all the
earnestness of the ambassador, all the eloquence of the man, and
all the cultivated rhetoric of the student. Ere long, the auditors
lost sight of the scholar, the man, and the ambassador: one by
one they disappeared from their minds, which then became ab



328      WHIRH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
sorbed by the solemn grandeur of the Theme.  From  that
moment they beheld but three objects:
Their Maker's greatness;
Their Redeemer's goodness;
Their own unworthiness.
From that moment loomed up before them the startling and
unflattering facts:
That THE LAW of God is absolute and pitiless, but that-it
must be met;
That it can only be met by faith in the Redeemer, and by
thorough and earnest repentance;
That this faith must be given, and this repentance be worked
out by men during life;
That at death the chances of mercy cease;
That there is no repentance after death;
That whoso neglects or refuses to comply with. the requirements of THE LAW, while in the flesh, thereby pronounces his
own condemnation, because
THE LAW must be met!
And from that moment this haughty, supercilious, self-sufficient throng forgot their wealth, their exclusiveness, their pompous littleness, and their inability to "' afford" the " real thing."
They forget everything but their Maker's greatness, their Redeemer's goodness, their own sinfulness, and-the pitiless rigor
of THE LAW! 0, how for one long hour they sighed, and wept,
and trembled over their previous paltry views! How for one
long hour they listened to The Message as it fell from the lips
of the preacher! How for one long hour the thunders of Sinai
rattled through their quaking hearts, shook the starch out of
their proud blood, and the fire from their insolent eyes! How
for one long hour the members took shame for their surface
piety, the pew-renters for their want of piety, the strangers for their
churchlessness, the retired Smiths for their selfishness, the Mrs.




NVHICHI: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.            329
Griggs for their unworthiness, the Lesters for their greediWiess,
and the Mrs. Aliens for their littleness! How for one long hour
all forgot whether they could, or could not, afford- to pcatronize
their-REDEEMER!
At length the voice of the envoy ceased; the wrapped throng
drew a long breath, and-each forgot to look at his neighbor.
The doxology-ah! how soft and broken were the voices of
the flaring assemblage as they joined in that!
And how meekly and reverently all bowed their proud heads
during the benediction!
And then, how, like mean, guilty things, they slunk from the
sanctuary!
But, not all —no, not all!
Here and there, still remaining in their seats-their heads
bowed upon their breasts, or else upon the pew-tops-their
frames moving convulsively-tears of shame, and grief, and
wretchedness gliding down their pale cheeks, were many in penitential agony. A few of them in life's bright spring-time; some
in its sweet summer; and others in the various stages of autumn.
Among them the veriest veterans in society's convenient piety,
society's easy indifference, and society's smiling heartlessness.
A-nd —of all the world!-Mr. Smith, Mrs. Griggs, Mr. Lester,
Mrs. Allen, and Mr. Johnson, with two score others of their
kind, and one score more of weepers who had never, until then,
given a single honest thought to aught but-themselves!
The pastor-his eyes dewy and his voice tremulous! —invited
them all to the altar, and all went forward, but-two!
Mr. add Mrs. Townsend!
The Holy Spirit, in its descent, had looked upon them kindly,
and bathed them, among others, in the rich sunshine of its smile;
but-they resisted. They wept, but —resisted.
" Dear aunt," whispered a gentle voice imploringly, " be brave




3b30      W HICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT
-rbe firm. Come forward —God will make you happy. Struggle
not against Him. Our Prince waits to bless you 1"
No reply.
"Dear friend," whispered Samuel, gently, in the ear of his
employer, "falter not —resist not the Holy Ghost. Rise, come
forward, and partake of the rich blessing which is about to descend upon the brave hearts kneeling at the altar. Come, and
enter upon a new existence. Come, and peace will reign henceforth in your heart. Come, Jesus is waiting. Come, and be
happy!"
No reply.
The young Christian moved away with an air of pain towards
the altar, and then his features became radiant with indescribable delight, as he beheld the small multitude of brave hearts that
were kneeling there.
Here let us pause; for there are things which may be seen
and felt, but —not told.
Uncover, sir-uncover and halt gently, you who are passing
by; for this temple is now hallowed and made holy by a visitation from On High. Look reverently —feel reverently. For —
this in your ear! —within are three-score and five of humble
penitents, kneeling at the feet of Jesus! Three-score and five
of humble penitents, saluting their Saviour, in sincerity and
humility, for the first time!  Three-score and five of humble
penitents-young, middle-aged, and gray-haired —are sobbing;
sobbing, sir —think of that. Great manly and womanly hearts —
sobbing and crying, like little children over some very joyful or
heart-breaking thing.  And struggling, too-many of them
fiercely, but all of them earnestly-with Evil, the greatest enemy
of all their lives, and of yours and mine, too, sir —and calling
on their Prince for help, and getting it, and promptly, too, and
kindly: for who called ever upon HIM in vain?




WHICH: THE RIIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               331
Three-score and five of thinking, reasoning beings upon their
knees! Warms it not your heart with solemn, stirring fervor?
Shakes it not your blood, heating it and expanding it till every
vein seems as if about to burst with proud, grateful joy? Threescore and five upon their knees to HIM, the only one in all the
universe to whom that posture's due, and who never lets HIis
people rise again until He has made them happier, by more than
twice ten thousand times, than they were before they bent them
down. Three-score and five —shout, shout! -for each and all of
them  are now registered Above; mansions are even now preparing for them There; and cherubim  and seraphim  are rejoicing o'er them, There; and they will sleep to-night the peacefuller for this, and rise again the better for it on the morrow;
and have new thoughts, and better and kinder ones, for it, too;
and they'll march along life's pathway, from  this hour, with a
firmer and surer step; and be ever, from this day, so full of joy
snd comfort, so abounding in hope, confidence, and. gladness,
that you will know them for what they areOf the Ransomed-the REDEEMED!




CHAPTER XXIII.
THE good work went on. For many weeks it was like the
gathering in of a great harvest.  Members, pew-renters, and
strangers awoke in large numbers, repented, and found peace.
Society's Church lessened day by day, Christ's as rapidly filled
up. It'was a season of great joy to many; but not to all.
Society's Church neither wanted a too familiar acquaintance with
The Redeemer, nor would accept it. At first they regarded the
revival with favor. It was a novelty; it would amuse themrn; it
would interest them; it would pass away, in a short time,
like any other novelty; and it would enable them —Society's
party —to say, complacently, that they were pleased with it,
because it gave them an opportunity to evince their interest in
The Church. But they discovered, at length, and to their horror,
that " the thing" was getting to be "' utterly unbearable."  Instead of passing away in a.few days, it coNTINusED-gathering
new life and fresh strength at every step, and there was no
telling when or where it would end. This was alt'well enough
for those who desired to be converted, and to take hold of the?
real thing; but as for themselves, they had no such wish; they
were satisfied as they were; they didn't want so many strangers
there every Sunday; and they did want the " agitation" brought to
a close. But on finding that their desire was by no means likely
to be heeded or gratified, they came out, took a bold, firm stand,
and declared that " They wouldn't put up with' the nonsense'
any longer."  They styled themselves The Exclusives, called the
revival The New Movement, and stigmatized the converts as The
New People.
(88:)




WHICH: THE RIGHT, Opt THE LEFT.            333
The Exclusives were, however, in a glorious minority —the
New People outfigured them two to one. But, no matter; they
flattered themselves that they made up in consequence and respectability for what they lacked in number.
The New People went on, meanwhile, as if there were no such
individuals as Exclusives, or" exclusive" sentiments in the world.
The pastor continued to do the will of Him who sent him, and
the Car of Grace rolled on in triumph.
The Exclusives were fierce, supercilious, and scornful. They
would have nothing to do with the New People. They had no
sympathy with the New Movement. They disliked the pastor's
new style of preaching. They couldn't stand it, and wouldn't.
It." disturbed them;" and they " wouldn't be disturbed." Some
got enraged, and cleared out altogether; declaring, as they departed, that "they wouldn't patronize any church where the society
was not more select." Others remained, affirming, through their
leader, a Mr. Wells, a retired army officer, who was very rich,
very proud, very obstinate, and very exclusive, " that they would
hot submit to aggression; that they would not yield an inch to
the enemy-the New People; that they would maintain their
rights; and that they would break up the New Movement, and
kick out the disturbers, or perish."  But notwithstanding the
opposition of The Exclusives, the New Movement continued to
prosper, and the New People to increase.  The Exclusives
waxed wroth; some followed the example of their predecessors,
and retired in disgust; but those-whose pride inspired them to
remain, formed still a goodly body. What most enraged them
was the fact that every time a pew was thrown up by a retiring
member of their party, a dozen or more of the strangers in the
ranks of the New People stepped forward with alacrity, and
vied with each other, in their mild, brotherly way, for the privilege of obtaining it. The Exclusives swelled and reddened with
indignation.




334      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
But, some how or other-one would hardly believe it, but
things will work very oddly, now and then!-The HOLY SPIRIT
was stronger than the Exclusives; and its work went on in spite
of all the latter could do to arrest it. In less than six months from
the commencement of the revival, nearly two-thirds of the old
surface members and pew-renters had taken up arms for their
Redeemer; not passively, but with energy and enthusiasm. All
this, in the estimation of the Society Christians, was exceedingly
aggravating. But worse followed. They wanted the Exclusives
to come over to Christ also. "Come, and partake of our great
happiness!" they exclaimed.  " Our Prince is a kinder Master
than Society's, and makes His people happier.  Come —do!"
Now, language and conduct like this were perfectly exasperating
to the Exclusives. They didn't go to church for any such purpose. What they wanted was —to be let alone; and if the New
People wouldn't let them alone, and respect their quiet, dignity,
and exclusiveness, they would take steps to compel them. Now,
was there ever anything more outrageous? To disturb nice,
quiet, respectable people like them! It was shameful-positively
shocking!
I But if the New People would only have stopped here. But
they wouldn't-no, they wouldn't. They were too "low," too
"vulgar" for that! Instead of being satisfied with their own
happiness, they had a grovelling desire to see everybody else
happy as well.  Instead of minding their own business, like
respectable, well-bred persons, they acquired a propensity for
meddling with other people's affairs. "Have you become acquainted yet with our dear Prince." they would impudently
inquire of all their friends and neighbors; "if not-do come
with us, and see how good, how kind a friend He is, and how
full of joy He makes all who call on Him. Do come!"  Now,
what business was it to these impertinent meddlers, whether
their friends and neighbors were happy or not? Isn't this a




VWHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               335
free country?  And hasn't a man a, perfect right to do as he
likes-and be as happy or miserable as he pleases?  It's a pretty
state of things, when a man's private affairs are to be meddled
with in this insolent manner! Isn't a man's house his castle?
Isn't it sacred from intrusion any longer? And can't he go to
church, and sit down in his own pew, without being exposed to
impertinent inquiries, or impertinent interlopers, any more?
Answer these questions-will you?  What is it your business
whether I have a familiar acquaintance with The Saviour or no?
He died for all men-didn't He?  For me, as well as for you?
Come, sir-go away from here, with your impertinence.  Clear
out!
It was that Samuel who started this gratuitous meddling, and
upon him rests all the blame and the shame of it!
"If," observed Mr. Wells, as the Exclusives discussed their
grievances among themselves, " that young emissary of mischief
had never been admitted into our church, we should have had
none of this. Everything would now be going on smoothly,
orderly, and respectably!"
And the ex-army officer fumed and looked daggers.' Right!" observed Mr. Eastlake, another of the Society party.
"And it is well for him that he is no longer among us, or I
should move for his expulsion! But it's always the way with
these young religious enthusiasts. Let one of them once get into
a respectable church, and its peace, order, and respectability are
gone forever!"
"They are never easy," sneered a third, "until they have
got everybody by the ears, or on the stool of repentance, which
is the same thing!"
"For my part," said another, a cotton-broker, " I was always
fearful of that young man. You all, at that time, called him a saint
— but I didn't! No. I perceived danger in him —he carried




336       WHICii. TLE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
it in his eyes!-the first time I ever saw him! It is well he is
gone i"
"Yes," said the ex-army officer, " but he has left two hundred
of his like behind him. There's hardly a man among the enemy
— the New People-that isn't imbued with his meddling spirit!"
The New  People certainly did behave most shamefully.
Instead of being satisfied, like decent, respectable persons, with
hearing The Message themselves, and taking advantage of it, and
enjoying it nicely, comfortably, selfishly, sensibly, and exclusively, when they alone paid for it —they must go around, evenings, among their friends, and invite them to come and hear it,
too! Nay, they even stooped so low as to yield up their own
pews.to strangers and invitees, and were mean and spiritless
enough to sit or stand themselves, anywhere-everywherewherever, they could! Could anything exceed that?  Did one
ever hear or see of anything so " low," "shocking," and "outrageous?" It made the Exclusives "fairly sick!" But there
was still a lower deep for these abominable wretches. They
even carried their enormity so far, at times, as to ask the Exclusives to be "kind enough to make room" in THEIR pews for
some of these c" strangers, loafers, and vagabonds," " whom nobody knew," and "'whom nobody wanted to know!" Now,
reader, we put it to you as a decent man or woman-as one who
knows the meaning of good breeding and individual rights-did
you ever, in all your life, hear of such a solemn outrage? Isn't
it almost enough to tempt one to publicly protest against the insolence of high-handed fanaticism? To be sure, the " loafers and
vagabonds" dressed well enough, looked well enough, and
behaved well enough.  But what then?  Were these any
reasons why they-the Exclusives-should let them  into their
pews, and incommode themselves?  Now, reader! now —be candid! We put it to you, as a reasoning, thinking, respectable,.person!




WTHICn: THE RIGHIT, oit TrEp, LEFT.         337
Mr. Eastlake was dignifiedly indignant-and very properlyv!
Don't you say so? He spoke out like a man-like an Exclusive!
I-Te declared, at a church-meeting, one evening, "that when he
rented a pew in a church, he rented it for himself, and not for
other people. More than that —he didn't mean that other people
should have the use of his pew while it wts his.  (Wasn't that
spunky?)  When his year should expire, he was perfectly
willing that the New People should take the pew, and do just
what they pleased with it. But till then, he meant to hold on
to his own!"
Hurrah for the Exclusives! I -urrah- hurrah-hurrah!
Mr. Benedick " was grieved to say, that hie had no sympathy
with the New Movement. It disturbed his equanimity, and hedidn't like it. When he rented his pew, everything was orderly,
respectable, and exclusive.  (Hear, hear.)  Every bod3  attended
to their own affairs. The pastor was quiet, graceful, and mild.
Theie was no commotion, no intrusion. Everything went, on
harmoniously.  But the New Movement and the New People
had changed all this. In fact, everything had undergone a revolution. The church was crowded every Sabbath with strangers,
of whose antecedents or standing in society nobody knew anything.  (Hear, hear.)  They might be respectable, and then
again they might not.  lie couldn't and wouldn't take it upon
him to say. (Sensation.) But of one thing he was certain: He
knew nothing of them himself, he didn't wish to know anything
of them, and what was more, he wouldn't associate with them.
(Loud applause-reader, join in.)  The pastor, too, displeased
him. He didn't enjoy him as he used to, prior to the New Movement.  Then, Mr. Eungold preached to suit him.  At present,
and ever since the New Movement, he didn't; and that was the
long and the short of it. He —Mr. Benedick —was a business
man, and he was accustomed to speak out, frankly and boldly,
just what he thought.  His frankness might be regarded by
others as a weakness; if so, all he had to say was, that he gloried
15




338       WHICH   THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
in it. (A proper spirit! Go it, old gentleman!) The change
in Mr. Engold's preaching was everything but satisfactory to
him- the speaker. It might please other people-he had nothing
to say as to that; bat it did not, agree with him: and he would
not sit under it. If anybody wanted his pew, they could have
it-when his year was up!"
Mr. Wells, the ex-army officer, "fully agreed with his dear
friend, Mr. Benedick.  He believed that the time was come
when every man who had any regard for society, should take a
firm stand against this wild, stupid, and unnecessary fanaticism
in the Church. If there was an institution on earth which should
be exempt from undue agitation, it was the Church. Let undue
agitation once enter the Church, and where is its dignity?
Without dignity, what would the Church be?  Like a fortress
without guns! How nicely, orderly, and respectably everything
went on in their church before this new agitation came up! And
since then, what has been the story?  Agitation-agitationagitation!  Old members and pew-renters disturbed, agitated,
and rendered, for a time, half-insane-strangers flocking in, in
hundreds, joining in the agitation, and then taking sides with the
New People!  And who were these strangers?  Who would
vouch for their honesty and respectability?  fHe wouldn't!
(Sensation.)   Who wanted them?  Re didn't.  (Loud, tempestuous, and heart-stirring applause, in which the reader is very
respectfully requested to join, in case he or she should happen
to be an Exclusive-if otherwise, don't take the trouble.) No,
what he wanted, was a deliverance from all undue agitation in
the Church; the exclusion of all strangers; and a return to the
easy quiet of old times.  (Deafening cheers.)  If he couldn't
have these, then it was time for him, and all who shared in his
sentiments, to withdraw, at once, and forever, from the church,
and leave it to the disturbers, the interlopers, and the undue
agitators! If anybody wanted his pew, they could have itright away!"




W HICH: THE RIGHI', OR THE LEFT.            339
Twenty of the interlopers stepped up at once, and eagerly requested the privilege of taking it off his hands.
The ex-army officer surveyed them silently, and-bit his lip.
Then, with the quiet remark, that " they couldn't have it!" he
sat down —very indignant, and very red.
But-somehow or other-how singularly things will happen
sometimes!-the ex-army officer, turned traitor to his party!
He, coolly, openly, and deliberately, went over, on the following
Sabbath, to the ranks of the enemy-the New People, who
received him very warmly, and thanked him very kindly, for
coming up to the help of their Prince. The Exclusives could
hardly credit their eyes, when they saw the old gentleman, tottering, like a crushed, broken, trembling, weeping man, up the aisle,
and falling on his knees at the altar, with the touching, abject air
of one whose last hope was gone; his hands clasped in agony,
and hot tears falling from his sweltering lids in a perfect gush.
They would never have believed it of him-never!
And yet the brave old soldier was there, with near a score of
others, calling, in piteous tones, for help and mercy at the hands
of The Ever Kind!
Oh, what a thrill of joy darted through the frames of the New
People at the sight!
And how virtuously indignant were the Exclusives as they
looked upon the hoary traitor! Oh! how they would have
liked to tell him their opinion of his base desertion!
From that hour the Church of Society-the Exclusives-had
no deadlier or more unsparing foe. He would walk right in
among them, and carry off a willing prisoner in each hand. He
would treacherously call upon them individually at their houses,
and capture them in that way. When he failed in all of his own
manceuvres, he would drop a line, secretly, to Mr. Engold, and
make him an accomplice in his nefarious work: the lines running
in the following laconic style: —




340        W HICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"' MY DEAR PASTOR-Fire a red-hot shot, next Sabbath morning, from 1st James, 22d verse. A certain man in the ranks of
the enemy requires raking; and a red-hot shot from that gun
will demolish him.
"Yours, affectionately,
W"M. WELLS."
So that, instead of taming down his proud, military spirit, his
acquaintance with his Prince reawakened the old soldier, and
imbued him with all his ancient fire. In less than a year after
he had become one of the New People, the veteran, to use his
own expression, " had, with the help of JEmHOVAH, made such a
breach in the ranks of the enemy, that they scarcely knew
whether to strike their flag, or fly!" Some chose the first, others
the second alternative; but in the end, the Exclusives disappeared: or, if they remained, they were very careful not to show
their colors. Among those who held out to the last, and then
threw down their arms and asked for quarter, were Mr. Eastlake and Mr. Benedick; both of whom, as the gallant old soldier
expressed it, " were struck down by a red-hot shot from Hebrews
-thirteenth chapter and second verse!"
And now, let us go back to our narrative, with the confidential understanding that the incidents in the next chapter took
place some two weeks after the commencement of the revival.




CHAPTER XXIV.
TIE twentieth of December was a great day in the great house
of John P. Townsend.  The store, book-kleeping, and packing
departments were in a ferment of mingled pride and joyful enthusiasm. All this was brought about by a simple incident: the
return home of the silernt part-nere. His wanderings were over.
His health was completely restored.  HIe was in high spirits.
Hie looked tip-top, and his appearance was hailed throughout the
establishment with stirring gladness. He had been around to, and
shaken hands with, everybody in the house. He had imparted
his own happy feelings to everybody in the house.  He had expressed the heartiest satisfaction with the business and individual
conduct of everybody in the house. He had declared that he
appreciated what everybody in the house had done for the house.
He had backed this up by stating that when New Year's came
he should remember everybody in the house.  And he had also
told everybody that he had now concluded to stay at home, and
help all hands in pushing forward the interests of the house.
And great was the glee at all this of everybody in the house:
for the silent partner had ever been the most popular of the firm
with everybody in the house.  Therefore, although laboring
under the pressure of a heavy flow of business, and although
everybody in the house had just as much to do as they could do,
the twentieth of December was, to everybody in the house, like
a great gala-day. Everybody was smiling at everybody, all day
long; everybody was in great spirits, all day long; everybody
was shaking hands with everybody, almost all day long; and that
house was the happiest house in all down-town, all day long.
(341)




342      WHIcH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
And when night came, everybody went home to tea, in the very
highest state of satistaction with themselves and everybody else
in the wold —apparently.
There was one gentleman, however, who was not in such very
great glee, after all-Mr. Brigham.  He didn't like the silent
partner's permanent return; because he knew that Mr. Crittenden
llad concluded upon this step from  a conviction that the new
movement, had rendered further " travelling" wholly unnecessary.
F-e knew, also, that he was himself somewhat less than a favorite
with that gentleman, and there was no telling where his lack of
favor in that quarter mighty terminate.  He didn't like Samuel's
position in the silent partner's rnind, either; nor that young gentleman's position at a certain house in Fifteenth street; nor his
position in the heart of a certain young lady who dwelt in that
house; nor his position in the minds of the city and country trade;
nor yet his positionl in the minds of his acquaintance generallybecause, for a few of these reasons, Mr. Brighamn  was himself
rapidly becoming a mere nobody; and because, for all of them
put together, he felt that he would like to bite a certain young
gentleman in some way that would give him a great deal of real
piercing PAIN.
These were, doubtless, the grounds of the remark which the
confidential clerk permitted to glide through his teeth, while on
his way from the store to his boarding-house:"I have laid the train: why should I hesitate to fire it? A
flash, a smoke, a crash, and-ruin, out of which, if he can come
whole again, let him!"
It was to be a great night at the Townsends'.  There was to
be a party there-that is to say, a few knowing people were
going to anmuse themselves at the expense of a few other people
whom they believed to be everything but knowing- although
the latter were, in their own estimation, very knowing people, indeod.




MWHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               343
And so one of the knowing ones-that is to say, one who innocently flattered himself that what he did not know, was not
worth knowing-was refreshing his mind with a string of compliments, which he had been a whole week in preparing, for his
guests. These little things would serve a double purpose: to
flatter the mental weaklings for whom they were designed, and
to glorify, in a small way, the little mind that uttered them-that
is, add to his previous reputation for affability, generosity, wit,
and urbanity.
Mrs. Townsend, whose chief error lay in a superabundance of
talent, was impressing upon herself the propriety of guarding
herself from all unnecesscary observations: a great idea, of which
only few comprehend the value of.  " For," mused Mrs. Townsend, "the great art of life is, not to talk one's self, but to make
others talk; if they utter pearls, they are thenceforth yours, as
well as theirs; if they utter trash, you know at once the measure
of their minds-a valuable knowledge sometimes.  While, if you
are silent, no one can sound your mind. I have found that it is
sometimes an advantage to not let others know the measure of
my mind!"
The lady was right. Not to know how to talk, but how to be
silent-or rather, how to preserve one's self from talking in the
wrong place, is a study worth cultivating.
Isabella was, with the assistance of her maid, preparing for a
regular massacre.
"HI-ow many conquests do you count upon to-night, miss?"
asked the girl, who found that a little flattery, now and then,
helped her wardrobe.
"1-Have done with your nonsense, do!" answered her young
mistress, with everything else but a frown.
"You'll make twenty —l'm sure of that, at least!" pursued the
attendant. "' For you never looked so brilliant before in all
your life. You are perfectly irresistible!"




344       W HTICIi: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.' Nonsense! You are quizzing me. And you kncw I detest
quizzing."
"I don't mean anything of the kind, miss.  I know my place
better than that! But this I will say: if you don't break some
hearts to-night, then it will be because there are none to break!"
" Pslhaw-nonsense!  There's nothing very unusual in my
appearance to-n igt."
"That may be your opinion, miss: but it isn't  nline-I'm
sure.  Wait till you sail ia among the company-that's all.
There won't be. any sensation —oh, no! The ladies won't bite
their handkerchiefs for spite- oh, no! And if Samuel don't feel
a fluttering under his waistcoat when he sees you-"
"Do stop your quizzing!" interrupted her mistress, surveying
herself, with a well-pleased glance, in her toilet mirror. "'And
that reminds me,? as guardy says, that I shan't want that dress
which I wore to-day, any more i"
"I'm very much obliged to you, miss.  You are so good!
Dear me! how splendid you do look! How I should like to be
in the drawing-room when you sail in!"
Poor Mirianm was considering how she could contrive, during
the evening, to avoid observation.
She thought that she would put herself under the protection
of Mr. Crittenden, who understood her.  In case that gentleman
should be otherwise taken up, she had hope in her aunt; failing
in the latter, she would do what she could for herself.
"Perhaps,"' she murmured, in conclusion, "perhaps Fanny
Adriance. may not be wholly monopolized by her intended, and
will kinadly give me a part of her attention!"
In the meanwhile, Miriam, who was never much given to display, was arraying herself in a dark purple dress, which was
just showy enough to evince her willingness to step a little out
of her usual plainness, for the sake of pleasingi her friends, and
yet sufficiently modest not to do violence to her own simple taste.




WV HIC H: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              345
Mr. Crittenden was felicitating himself, in advance, upon the
enjoyment which he should derive from  his portrait gallery, the
pitiful figure that each of them would make in the presence of
his sterling favorite, and seriously resolving that this should be
the last time he would attempt to amuse himself over the weaknesses of his fellow-creatures.
Samuel, who knew nothing of Mr. Crittenden's anticipations
firom the converzatione, and still less of the part which that gentleman expected him to play in it, had given but little thought
to the subject.  He fancied that he had been invited simply out
of courtesy, and that whether he was present or not would be of
but very little consequence. Still, as he had not declined the invitation, and as that might possibly be viewed by his friends in the
light of an acceptance, he concluded that he would look in upon
the party some time in the course of the evening, and make his
escape at the earliest excusable moment. With these reflections,
he stopped, on his way home, at the laundress's, partly to pay his
respects to Mrs. Farley herself, but mainly to see his little friend,
Bob, who had been for some weeks in a state of decline.
Samuel found the laundress ironing, and little Bob sitting up,
on a low chair before the stove, watching with his large, brown,
thoughtful eyes, the bright shining coals, and dreamily shaping
them into a thousand fanciful figures. The poor boy was reduced
to a mere shadow; and the glare which was thrown from  the
stove upon his wasted frame, gave'a painful prominence to the
hunch in his shoulders, which rose almost on a level with the top
of his large but beautifully formed head.
It was about seven o'clock, and the kettle was singing on the
stove.
"1[ hear some one on the stairs!" observed the laundress.
"It's Samuel," said Bob, listening.  "I know his step."
A moment later, and the young man was shaking hands with
the laundress and little Bob.
15*




346     WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
" How are we to-night?" asked Samuel, taking the lad on his
knee, and stroking his dark locks with tender playfulness.
"Pretty well," answered Bob, in a clear but feeble voice.
" Have we been a good boy?"
"Pretty good," said Bob. "Haven't I, ma'."
" Very good!" replied the latter, taking a fresh iron from the
stove, and giving her boy a cheering smile.
"That's a dear little heart!" cried Samuel, patting him affectionately on the cheek. " I've brought him a pretty little book,
which is ever so full of pictures, and a nice little pair of gloves,
which will keep his little hands ever so warm, and a little coat
to go to church in when he gets well, and a funny little dancingjack, which will make him laugh ever so much-and all for his
Christmas. See!" and breaking open a small bundle, he held up
the articles of which he had spoken. "And now what is Bob
going to give Samuel for his Christmas-hey?"
"Dear-dear!" cried the laundress, "aint they nice?"
The child surveyed the things for a few moments with silent
but chastened delight. Then putting his little thin arms around
she young man's neck, he hugged him with a tight, emotional
grasp, and uttered a low sob.
The laundress started, and asked soothingly: "What is it,
darling?"
"Tell Samuel what the matter is?" said the young man, who
could feel the heart of the child throbbing violently against his
own. "Bobby will tell Samuel what the matter is-won't he?"
"Bobby will never wear his new coat!" replied the child.
" Bobby is going away-to Jesus-up in heaven!"
The laundress and Samuel exchanged a sad glance.  The
former turned pale; a feeling of faintness crept over her, and
staggering to a chair, she veiled her face silently with her apron.
"What makes Bobby think so?" asked Samuel.
"I know!" said the child, shaking his head.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                347
" And won't he tell his Samuel'?"
"Samuel knows, too, and so does ma', and aunty, and Bill!"
"Aunty" was Mrs. Osborn, and " Bill" her adopted son, who,
ever since his recovery, had become a very frequent visitor at the
laundress's.
"Are you sure, Bob?"
"Very sure," answered the child.
"But you are not afraid to go to Jesus-are you, Bob?"
" No; but I'm sorry. I don't want to go alone. If you and
ma', and aunty, and Bill. would go with me, I'd like it very much.
It would be so pleasant!
"Ah! well, Bob, we'll come by-and-bye."
" By-and-bye?  When?"
"In a few years. Perhaps in a few months. Who can tell?"
" Why can't you all go when I do? The Lord will let you
in-won't He?"
" O yes. But we must wait until He calls us. He calls those
first whom He loves the most."' Does He? And is that the reason why He calls me first?"
"I presume so," said Samuel, with a cheerful smile. "' But it's
a great thing to be called to Him early. You ought to be very
grateful for His kindness?"
" I guess I ought-and I am, too," said Bob.
"Because," said Samuel, "when He takes you Up There so
early, He saves you from twenty, thirty, perhaps fifty years of
trial, suffering, and sorrow."
" Yes, and firom the bad boys who hit me ard call me names,"
said Bob. " Dear, dear —aint He good?"
"Very. Don't you love Him?"
" I guess I do!"
"And you won't be sorry any more?"
"No; but still I'd like to have you and ma', and Bill, and
aunty, go Up There, too!"




348       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.'' Oh, we'll come, ill time!"
"Right away?"'" No; one of these days."
"All together?"
"No; one after another.  But by-and-bye, we'll all be there.
And then we shall never be separated again."
"Never-never at all 9?"
"Never. We'll live together among the angels; and we'll see
God, and Jesus, and all the angels, every day, and be happy all
day long, forever."
"And father, too?"
"And father, too."
"Dear, dear —won't that be nice!"
" Very nice, Bob. And so you won't be afraid or sorry any
more-will you?"
"I guess I won't. I'll be ever so happy and brave."
"And when you come to go, you'll be joyful-won't you?"
" I guess I will."
"Because," said his friend, "we ought to be very glad when
we are going up to see God and Jesus."
"So we ought!  And when I get Up There, I'11 ask God to
let you all come up, too-right away!"
" You are a dear good boy!"
And in this strain the child-boy and the child-man talked on
for an hour or more, by which time little Bob fell asleep in the
arms of his gentle friend, who then yielded him to his parent,
who quietly bore him to the inner chamber and put hitn, with a
soft kiss, to bed.
"You must keep your heart up, dear madam," said Samuel,
with a cheering smile, as the laundress, pale and agitated, returned
to her ironing.  "Let this console you: Your flower, when once
the petals of his spirit close up here forever, will blossom again,
eternally, and brighter and more beautiful than ever, in the
Better Garden!  TQWep not-rejoice, rather; thanlling Him, fo)r




WVHICtH: THE  RIGH t, OR THE  LEFT.          349
HIis great goodness in taking to His bosom your darling, whose
gentle spirit is wholly unfitted for a rough, stormy world like
this, where rude hearts are many, and kind ones but few!"
IHe had touched the right chord; and the sorrow in the poor
mother's eye was succeeded by a smile.
"He will pass away gently," continued Samuel.  "Like the
breath of the night before the light of ths morning; and the light
of his new morning will be that of the Happy Land. Take comfort from that!"
After an hour of pleasant converse, the young man took his
departure, leaving the laundress happier than he had found her,-.yea, even cheerful in her resignation to the Divine will.
It was half after ten o'clock when Samuel reached homu.
Upon entering the drawing-roorn —which was a-blaze with light,
beauty, wit, and talent —he was greeted by Isabella, who broke
off an interesting discussion with an eminent legal gentleman,
upon the rights of the people to defend themselves at the bar,
and rushing forward, exclaimed, as she playfully secured the
new-comer by the collar"So, AMr. Truant! we have got you at last, have we? Come
up here, sir, and mahke your peace with this gentleman, who has
been wondering all the evening at your absence!"
And she led the blushing loiterer towards the left corner of
the apartment, where Mr. Crittenden was holding a sort of little
court of ladies and gentlemen, whom he was charming with a
witty account of a fanciful new continent, which had recently
been discovered by a fhnciful navigator, while making a fanciful
voyage of discovery around the world.
"So, sir," said Mr. Crittenden, pressing him warmly by the
hand, "we had begun to fear that you had forgotten us; but now
that we have got you, we shall do with you as Her Majesty of
Sprain does with the Isle of Cuba."
"H-ow is that?" asked Isabella.




350       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Cherish him as the apple of our eye, and-hold on to him!
And now, ladies and gentlemen, permit me a few words with
our dear friend here, who is, we doubt not, very anxious to propitiate us for his prolonged absence."
"But you forget, naughty man,"' said Mrs. Townsend, playfully, "that we are all dying to hear whether the navigator ever
married the handsome widowed queen of the new continent."
"Well, upon my word! I can't say positively," returned the
narrator; " but I have a sort of an indefinite idea that he did; that
he became king, that he lived to a good old age, and that he then
died, and immediately, like all of the inhabitants of that delightful
country, came to life again quite a handsome young man, and
his queen quite a likely young woman; and that they both lived
on happily to another ripe old age, and then died again, and then
came to life once more, younger, handsomer, and happier than
ever, and then went on together to another old age, in which
condition they were at last accounts, which stated that they were
in daily expectation of again dying and again turning up young,
and beautiful, and rich, and loving, as before. There! if that
isn't giving the lovers good measure, I don't know what is!"
"I say," cried a spruce old bachelor of sixty, who had been
favoring a spruce old single lady of sixty-five, with ringlets like
those of a young boarding-school miss, with his private opinion
of the disastrous effects of salt, and stating it as his belief that
that article had a tendency, in time, to ossify the human system,
"a great country that!  Have you any idea when the next
steamer starts for it."
" Yes, Mr. Jessup; as soon as the next one comes in!"
The laugh that followed this gay rejoinder informed the spruce
old bachelor that he hadn't got very far ahead of the witty narrator of the wonderful continent, and he quietly resumed his
impressions upon the salt question.
In the opposite corner, near the window, Charley Gibbs was




WVHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               351
explaining to Miriam and Fanny Adriance-the latter a young
lady of twenty, rather petite in feature and figure, and remlarkable as much for the mildness of her manner as for the goodness
of her heart, which latter was unalterable in its affection for
Charley-how near he was towards " bringing obstinate old
guardv to terms,"-how soon he expected to come into possession of his money, and how his lawyer had told him that a few
hundred dollars more would settle the old gentleman's hash so
completely that, figuratively speaking, he wouldn't have the first
fraction of a leg to stand upon.
On Miriam's right sat Mrs. Townsend, discussing the merits
of modern literature with a gentleman, who-but let us listen to
Mr. Crittenden, who is now opening his gallery of living portraits
to his young friends.
" That individual who is conversing with Mrs. Townsend is
a Mr. Sly, of the great publishing firm of Sly & Slocum-a house
which has been remarkably successful in flooding the country
with books and pamphlets which corrupt, demoralize, and destroy every mind that is unfortunate enough to come in contact
with them."
Samuel shuddered.
"A dirty dog!" he observed, surveying the head of the great
publishing house with an air of mingled uneasiness and disgust.
"Oh! my dear boy, you mustn't say that!  Why, sir —Mr.
Sly is a respectable man-has a pew in the church; is sometimes
afected by the sermon; is regarded as one of our good citizens;
is admitted into society; is taken by the hand by very worthy
people; never feels ashamed when he surveys himself in his
mirror; lays down at night without trembling; wakes up in the
morning without creeping; looks his wife and children in the
face without blushing; eats his food without fear of choking;
walks down to his business as if he were a decent man; and
sends out, every week, from five to fifty thousand books and




352       WimcH: THE RIGHT, OR TIHE LEFT.
pamphlets, every one of which effectually uproots the last vestire
of virtue, purity, and morality, from the hearts of fiom five to
fifty thousand persons.  But what then?  What is the moral
destruction of from five to fifty thousand hearts per week-a
srmall army of ruined souls per year, eh?-to Messrs. Sly &
Slocum, so long as Sly & Slocuml make money by the operation —eh?  Why, sir, Messrs. Sly & Slocum-their one house
alone —do more, in a single year, towards manufacturing candidates for brothels, gambling hells, rummeries, race-courses, and
ring-fights —filling our penitentiaries and state prisons, and hurling
destroyed souls into the Everlasting Gulf, than you could count
in the same period, providing you should count sixty a minute
and work ten hours per day. This one house alone neutralizes
and undoes, in a single week, the Sabbath labors of a thousand
faithful clergymen. This one house alone creates more work for
our Bible, Tract, and Home Missionary Societies, than the natural
sinful propensities of a half million of people. This one house
alone cuts out more labor, in six days, for our courts of justicemakes more thieves, pickpockets, housebreakers, and general
felons-breaks up the honor, peace, and concord of more families
-familiarizes more young men and women with the firightfullest
of all sentiments-and drives more half-witted creatures into the
broad gulf of vice and crime, than the entire pulpit could retrieve
in a year! Now, sir, I ask you-as a thinking, reasoniing being
-how the soldiers of the Cross can expect to accomplish much
permanent good, while houses like Sly & Slocum's are permitted
to exist! The souls that they draw near to heaven on the Sabbath, Sly & Slocum drag down again, during the week. Sly &
Slocum, alone, by simply publishing a single filthy book-which
their extensive business facilities enable them to scatter in copious showers over the length and breadth of the land-can sit
behind their desks, and put to rout a whole army of Christ's




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                35 3
warriors. And what is more —they do it, sir-do it, every week
in the year!"
A sensation of sickness crept over his auditor, who became
pale, faint, and nervous.
" You are ill?" said Mr. Crittenden, anxiously.
" I'll be better in a moment, sir. You make me shudder with
your dreadful pictures!"
"Shall I soften them for you, my friend 2"
"No; but let me think a moment.  You oppress, bewilder,
terrify me.  Come with me a moment up stairs, to my room."
"For what?"' I want to pray to my Prince for these two miserable menfor Sly & Slocum!"
" My dear friend —you are in error., Sly & Slocum, and all
of their kind, are past praying for! Why, sir —they are not
even human! Wretches whose daily bread is obtained, by destroying souls at the rate of from five to fifty thousand per week!
WVhy, you must be mad to think it!"
" Oh, no, AMr. Crittenden —it is they who are mad, you who
are in error.  All men are human, however inhuman they may
act.  Let us appeal to them, and for them, as if they had never
done an inhuman thing in their lives, and then the human part of
them will come out.  Itumanity will stand up at the call of Humanity. And therefore I will pray for these men before I go to
bed, as if they were human, and not as if they were mad beasts.
And Our Prince, who is very kind, very generous, and very
merciful, will plead kindly for them  to His Father, who will
touch them with His mercy, and stir them out from this mad,
horrid work!"
"Ah!" said Mr. Crittenden, shaking his head, and smiling at
the young man's simple earnestness, "you don't know these
men!"
" But I do know the goodness of my Prince, and the Power of
my God!" replied Samuel.  "Come, dear friend —let us; who




354      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
see their dreadfill course, make an effort for these two men, who
cannot see their own madness."
"What can we do?" asked Mr. Crittenden, smiling, in spite
of himself, at the young man's simplicity and faith.
" Many things," replied Samuel. "' Let us pray for them —
that must be the first step. Then let us call on these men, and
tell them of the exceeding wrongfulness of their course-asking
our Redeemer, on the way, to come up to our assistance in the
effort. Then I will find out their pastors, lay the case before
them, and invite them to make a special effort for them inl their
next sermons. Then we must assist the pastors by our prayers
— Our Prince will assist us all-and Our Father will send
down His Holy Spirit to visit Sly & Slocum, and knock stirringly at their hearts. Then these men will see the monstrous
wickedness of their business-then they will give it up-then
from five to fifty thousand souls, per week, will be unvisited by
their insidious books and pamphlets-then the work of wickedness will be, in a measure, stopped-then the good books which
are published by good houses will be widelier read —then the
wholesomeness of their better sentiments will take an easier and
firmer hold upon the public mind —then the labors of our
Prince's warriors will not be in vain-then hearts that have
wandered from their Father will return —then hearts that have
never known Hiim will come up —then men will be saved, and
our King and Prince be glorified!"
" Ah, Samuel," smiled Mr. Crittenden, "your enthusiasm runs
away with you!"
" No, my friend, it is your want of faith that runs away with
you!'Enthusiasm.' Know you not that all things are possible to HIM, and to His people, when they work with faith in
Him!"
Mr. Crittenden pondered a moment. He remembered the
great change in the business in his own house-the packing-room
society-the vast good accomplished by its members-the great




WHICH: THE RIGHIT, OR THE LEFT.              355
revival in the church of Mr. Engold, who, like Samuel, was an
enthusiast in faith —and the amazing spiritual results which followed in the wake of this young Christian wherever he went,
and whatever he undertook to perform, and he replied" You are right. I take back my observation. Faith is equal
to anything, however difficult."
"Because," added Samuel, "the power of Him in whom we
have faith is greater than that of all the universe-ilet alone that
of one or two of its smallest, atoms."
"But you overlook one thing," said Mr. Crittenden.  "Sly &
Slocum, although the principal, are not the only wretches
engaged in this frightful business."
"No 2" said the young Christian, mournfully.
" No. There are a score of them."
"What! Twenty houses engaged in sending out weekly from
five to fifty thousand messengers to corrupt the hearts of the
people?"
" Even so many."
The young Christian was shocked. As before, a sickening sensation crept over and unnerved him.
"' What wonder that society is false, rotten, double-minded,
and corrupt?" he exclaimed, mournfully. " What wonder that
our'Redeemer's soldiers grow weary and disheartened-with all
these insidious serpents working against them, and neutralizing
the effects of their labors!"
"You despair, then 3" said Mr. Crittenden.
"Despair? No! Were there a million, the great power of
THE KING would be greater than the million! How much for
hope, then, have we, when the.sources of this vast evil are only
a paltry score! Come, we must give our energies to this work.
These channels of corruption must be dried up. This vast undercurrent of corruption must be arrested."
" How?"
By the might of Jehovah! There is no other way. We must




356      WVHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
take hold of each house separately; call on Our PRINCE for aid,
on The KING for mercy, and at it!"
"When?"
"Right away! For His service, no time like the present!"
"Wait a moment," said Mr. Crittenden, catching the young
man's enthusiasm.  " Give me two weeks, in which to arrange
some private matters, which have been neglected by my long
absence, and I'll enter with you, heart and hand, in this great
work. Ill the meanwhile, we can be gathering a list of these
firms, learning the names of their pastors, and laying our plans
for the campaign!"
" Agreed, sir!" cried Samuel, warmly pressing his hand. "O,
my dear friend," he added, " you do not know the joy-the exceeding great joy-in campaigning for THE LORD. All other pleasure is as nothing to it-all other joy is but barrenness to it-all
other enthusiasm is as dullness before it!"
"Enough, Samuel," said Mr. Crittenden, returning the pressure with equal warmth, "' we understand each other!"
" Ah! sir, you maLke me very happy!"
"'Tis well," said Mr. Crittenden, in a disturbed voice. "' And
now, let's see the miserable rubbish with which Messrs. Sly and
Slocum  are doings such service for Satan.."  Then directing his
voice at the publisher, he said, in a tone which could not ail to
arrest general attention, " Excuse me, Mr. Sly, for interrupting
your discourse with my fair friend, but I have been mentioning
to this gentleman, who was ignorant of it before, the vast business
resources of your house, and the extraordinary sales which you
effect upon your publications.  Will you be kind enough to give
us some of the names of your most popular works?"
All eyes were immediately fixed upon the representative of the
great house of Sly & Slocum.
"With great pleasure, sir," answered that worthy-a short,
slender-bodied gentleman, with broad shoulders, a low neck, a
very high-pointed collar, a flaning neck-cloth, a long face liber



WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                357
ally bespattered with tell-tale blossoms, deep-set eyes of a grayish blue, square, heavily projecting brows, and a low, flat, slanting
forehead, with light hair pomatumed into dark, and falling around
the cheeks and back in an equal length.  "With great pleasure,
sir," he repeated, with a gracious wave of his gloved hand.
"The chief publications of our house are,' The Deserted Chambermaid,''The Dashing Exploits of Illustrious Highwaymen,''The Illustrious Pugilists; or, the Bruising Boys of Young
America,''The Lives and Adventures of Illustrious Freebooters,''Lucy the Hard'Un; or, the Marvellous Exploits of a Female
Highwayman,''Tom  Briggs, the Black Rover of the Ocean
Main,''Owley Bill; or, the Fearless Burglar,''Daring Sarah,
the G'hal of the Red, Red Locks,'' Sam Swipes, the Heroic
House Thief,''The Beautiful Cigar-Seller; or, the Handsome
Libertine,' and' Betty Williams, the Orphan Girl; or, the Key
to Easy Crime."'
" A rare selection, sir!" observed Mr. Crittenden.
"Well, yes!" said Mr. Sly, with the air of a man who was a
capital judge.  "Pretty fair!  We understand these matters, a
little, at our house!"
"So I perceive, sir! Are you a married man, Mr. Sly?"
" I believe so," answered Mr. Sly, who could not see the sarcasm in the question.
"A father, too?"
"I think so," answered Mr. Sly, wondering what connection
could exist between his being a husband and father and a member of the great publishing firm of Sly & Slocum.  "'Two children, Mr. Crittenden."
" Ah! indeed   What do you propose to make of them?
Publishers?"
"If they should live; which I presume they will, for the S!ys
are a healthy stock."




358       WHICH: THE  RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Very healthy, indeed!" remarked Mr. Crittenden.  "Will
you bring themn up in your own house?" he added, quietly.
"That is my design," replied the publisher.  "Our house is
generally regarded by the trade as a pretty good school!"
"No doubt, Mr. Sly —no doubt!  In fact, of its kind, it may
be almost said to be unrivalled!" observed Mr. Crittenden.
" Our competitors think so i" ventured Mr. Sly, with modest
wittiness.
"And they think very justly, no doubt. That is all, Mr. Sly i"
The publisher bowed as graciously as before, and resumed his
conversation with Mrs. Townsend, perfectly unconscious of the
loathing with which he was regarded by all in the apartment.
"So," said Mr. Crittenden to Samuel, " you see that there is
work before us. That individual, as you perceive, is so hardened
in vice, that he cannot see even the infamy of his business! What
can religion do for such a man 2"
" Reform him!" said Samuel.
"But only think of the depravity of the creature's heart! He
sees no shame even in proposing to bring up his sons to the same
beastly business!"
" God's power is greater than this man's depravity."
"Let us hope so."
" I know so," said Samuel.
"' So be it. But now let me call your attention to that slender
gentleman who is engaged with Mr. Townsend. He, too, is a great
man in his way, and remarkable for having achieved an immense
fortune in three short years."
"In what way?"'Fancy banking. He started, one after another, three separate
banks, which failed, one after another, without redeeming a solitary bill, leaving the note-holders absolutely minus, and himself




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              359
so poor that he didn't know, for a time, what to do-with his
money!"' And is this man received in society."
" Certainly; and in the church, too: and he is a very exemplary member, I assure you!"
" Pray, don't talk so," said Samuel. "It pains me. You ought
always to remember that there are two churches-Christ's and
Society's; and when you say of a known knave,' He is a member of the Church,' please add,' not of Christ's, but Society's.' In
this way, our Redeemer's people are saved from undeserved reproach, and society receives due credit for its own. Who is that
gentleman on the left of the banker?"
"That, sir, is a Mr. Morehead; a remarkable specimen of industrious littleness. He can tell you to a hair how many letters
there are in the Bible; how many seams in a coat; how many
pairs of pantaloons are probably made up throughout the world
in a year; how many cigars are smoked, how mnany whiffs
taken from them all, the aggregate of the ashes made by them,
the number of farms which the cigars would have bought, the
number of clouds which the smoke would naturally form, and
the number of acres which the ashes would cover; the number
of hats which each man wears in a lifetime, the number which
have been made since the deluge, and the number which will
probably be made between this and the end of the world."
"But of what service is all this waste of thought and calcula.
tion."
"To help show to what absurd littleness minds will bend
themselves when endowed with noble faculties. The principal
enjoyment which this man finds at church is in counting the number of attendants; the number of frock and the number of dress
eoats; the number of hats with a certain kind of feather, and the
number with a certain kind of trimming; how many wore silks,
how many satins, and how many ginghams; how many were




360        WHATICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
over, and how many under, a certain age; how many had silk,
how many yellow, how many white, and how many green, purple,
or black kids; how many sentences, words, and letters were in
the prayer, how many in each hymn, and how many in the sermon. Ask him what is the principal business of life, and he will
answer, To make statistics. When he goes home, his first movement will be to figure out the probable number of subjects that
were discussed here to-night, the number of sentences and words
spoken, the number of letters in all, and the comparative amount
of nitrogen and oxygen consumed in their utterance."
"How absurd! Why can he not be induced to devote a fraction of this vast labor to some useful purpose 2"
"Because his mind can only comprehend little things.  And
yet the simpleton innocently fancies himself gifted with comprehensive views! Should you fail to answer promptly his question
of How many tobacco quids are used up and fired away throughout the world in a single year, or, How many breaths are drawn
by a man in a lifetime of sixty years, he would triumphantly
set you down for an ignoramus without a particle of intelligence!
Hiis companion is the celebrated Mr. RTuffin."
" Celebrated?  For what 2"
"' Ruffin's ale!' What 3  Never heard of it, or him? Why,
man —you are behind the age! Ruffin's ale-a rival to Barclay
and Perkins of England —poisons, swills up, and sends to death,
one hundred thousand men per annum. It is strongly recorm
mended by nearly all of our best physicians, because it-helps
THEIR business!  They endorse wines, and gin, and French
brandies from the same worthy motive. Nay, my dear boy! you
must get rid of that habit of shuddering, when you hear of these
things-it is very impolitic and impolite, believe me! Why,
sir, Mr. Ruffin is a rich man, a respectable member of society,
and a member also, in good standing, of the church of -
society.  YGo see I improve upon your suggestions!9
"That gentleman on Mir. Rufn's left?"




VHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                361
"Is a Mr. Snillwick-a remarkable man; a perfect study. We
call him the Straw Watcher."
" Why so,"
"He is a successful politician; always in office. Has been
three times in Congress; five times in the Legislature, twice in
the Mayoralty, and four times in the Common Council, of which
he is now a member."
" Whig or Democrat?"
"Neither. He is simply a Straw Watcher. He started in his
political career as a Democrat.  A brief season, and the democratic stock declined: whigism  mounting in its place.  He
watched the straws, changed in time to rise with the new tide,
and when whigism rose, MrI. Snillwick was a brave and active
Whig. A few years, and the political wheel took another turn;
then Nativism was up-and so was Mr. Snillwick, elected by a
large majority.  By-and-bye, the old parties united to rout the
Natives.  Mr. Snillwick watched the straws in tine, met the
changes as they came, moved gradually and noiselessly, and
when the Democratic Whigs turned inl their elected candidates,
Mr. S. was among them, smiling and rosy as ever.  By-and-bye,
the political current veered in the Democratic direction; the
wires were pulled to arouse the masses; rum, circulars, flaming
handbills and tickets were freely distributed; Irish, Dutch, and
Germans were invited to rouse up like men and strike a gallant
blow at the polls for their fatherlands and freedom; the nativeborn were appealed to, in stirring tones, to stand up for the land
for which their sires fought and bled, and the Democratic nominees were elected with enthusiastic acclaim - Mr. Snillwick
coming in some thousands ahead of the general ticket! And so
on, throughout all the political changes of thirty years, Mr. S,
has been true to his one great principle of —watching the straws!
Hence, he is ever on the winning side. This would be a fine
lesson for you, my boy, if you were one of the great herd who
bend all principles into the principle of Number One; but as,
16




362       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
fortunately for yourself, you are not-the lesson will be lost
upon you. For the great secret of success in the world, whether
in politics or whatever business, lies in Mr. Snillwick's motto:
To watch and follow the straws!"
"And society, knowing this man's want of principle, is willing
to receive him."
" Certainly, and with open arms; and the Church also —that is
to say, Society's!"
Samuel looked down, mournfully.
"' Society," continued Alr. Crittenden, " is so much accustomed
to knavery, faithlessness, and utter selfishness in politicians, that
they now look for these things in them as a legitimate matter of
course. The chief business of a man in office is, not to keep his
oath, but to break it, a hundred times a day, if need be; not to
study the people's interest, but-his own. And if, after leaving
office, he leaves it poor, society looks upon him with mingled
pity and contempt.' What!' it exclaims,'not fill his pocketsnot plunder the people's treasury while he had a chance! He is
soft!' And then society sneers at him, turns its back upon him,
and brands him for a fool!'The business of a politician,' says
soeiety,'is to do his duty, his whole duty, and nothing but his
duty; and his duty, his whole duty, and nothing but his duty,
is-to rob!' When he fails to do that, society declares that he
has not done his duty, and drawing itself up, with virtuous indignation-cuts him!"
"I do not believe this," said Samuel, looking up.
"Why not?" asked Mr. Crittenden.
" It does not tally with my observations," replied the young
Christian. " Let us look at it once. You are yourself one of
society. Now, sir, would you cut the society of a man who was
noble enough to resist temptation 1"'" Of course not."
"'You would honor him, rather?"
"" Certainly."




WHlCaH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              363
"WVell, you represent a very large body of society; and
that is the only body whose opinions are of weight, and whose
countenance is an honor to the recipient-because the individuals composing it are themselves noble, honorable, and good.
As, in the Church, there are two kinds of Christians-C hrist's and
Society's; so in society there are two bodies of sociates —the
thoughtful, dignified, and influential, who examine everything by
the light of principle; and the unthoughtful, undignified, and uninfluential, who examine nothing, and care only for money, show,
and frivolity. But the latter, although they may be the larger
body of the two, are not Society itself, any more than Society's
Christians are The Church. Therefore, if it be a slander upon
the people of our Prince to say of a bad man,' He is a member
of The Church,' because he has a pew or is found at the communion-table in one of God's temples —so is it equally a slander
upon society to call these latter of society because they call
themselves so, or because they are sometimes found in it."
"My dear boy," cried Mr. Crittenden, "you are —I don't
know what! There is no getting along with you. You won't
look at the world as it is, but as you wish it to be. You are
always taking the better view!"
"Because," returned Samuel, "the better view is always the
most just!  The world is not so bad as you would represent it.
It is wicked, I admit —very wicked, but it is willing to be better-very willing —if men will only speak to it kindly, and not
sneeringly, and give it credit for the good that it has. It is thoughtlessly, not wilfully, bad. Speak to it as to a brother, and not as
to an enemy, and its goodness will gush forth like a torrent, and
amaze and enrapture you with its quantity and richness! It is
true that now and then, one will rise whose heart is exceedingly
difficult to reach; but patience and continued kindness will penetrate to it in time. So, all along The Pathway, the better view
works the happiest, laned the best!"
Perhaps so," said Mr. Crittenden.




364       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Nay, you will know it, once you take up arms in earnest,
for Our Prince! You cannot conceive what a vast storehouse of
new and comforting thoughts He kindly puts in the hearts of 11is
people!"
Mr. Crittenden smiled at the young Christian's enthusiasnm.
"Well," he said, "I'll not contradict it. And now, let me
call your attention to that lively, mercurial gentleman  who is
amusing that small knot of ladies by the mantel."
"Who is he 3"
" A witty gentleman; very witty-always cracking a joke at
somebody or something. Is always very ready, very funny,
and very cutting. Is into everything and everybody; a perfect
battery of broad humor. Spares neither God nor man, religion
nor society, and thinks the highest use to which he can turn his
mind is to sting somebody in a way that will make the world
laugh!"
" Of what benefit is such a man'" asked Samuel, with his
usual simplicity.
"To keep society in a ferment and away from Thought. He
helps the filthy publishers, the fraudulent bankers, the beermakers, and the knavish politicians, to persuade men that there is
nothing serious in life except humbug, bitterness, vice, and frivolity. He is never happy save when witty; and every joke
stings some one, and makes a thousand or more roar. He flings
a joke at a picture, and the unfortunate artist is from that moment
miserable and unhappy-perhaps a ruined man. He throws a
jest at a singer, who is thenceforth a nobody; at a clergyman,
and the heart of a good man is pained, his friends grieved, and
his influence for a time lost. But what then? —the witty man has
amused himself, showed his contempt for one of Christ's workmen, and induced a thousand others to unwittingly abandon their
respect for a sacred calling. In this way he helps, little by little,
to lessen the world's donfidence in everything high and go'od."




WNVHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                % 5
"He is a writer, then?"
" Yes- the editor of a witty paper, The Jolly Sneerer, which,
with 7The Satacnic Chuckle, and The Felon's THue and Cry, are
the chief organs of the Sin-King for corrupting the thoughtless of
our Metropolis, and sweeping from their minds every vestige of
respect for good men and good things. Take carel-you are shudde rilng  again!'"
"You mlake my blood creep with your statements.  Why
don't some great good mind attempt to reform the editors and
publishers of those journals?"
" Because it would be impossible."
" You forget that he would have Gon and CmRIST upon his
side!"
" Well, well; I yield.  You have such an original way of
removing obstacles —a way so entirely new to me, that I cannot
urge anything against it.  Do you see that gentleman who is
wiping the sweat from his forehead?"
" Certainly.  Who is he?"
"Another great man —in his way.  He is the notorious TMr.
Lifferts. What, you never heard of him?     My dear boy, where
have you kept yourself! Not to know [Mr. Lifferts is, as Shalspere says,'to argue thyself unknown.' Mr. Lid'erts keeps a vast
palace where respectable promenaders can drop in and partake
of a cup of tea, chocolate, or coffee, nicely intermixed withbrandy, gin, or whisky, according to their tastes.  In this way,
he, every year, gently prepares thousands upon thousands of our
young women and young meni to take their liquor without the
fiiendly aid of coffee, chocolate, or tea!  And in this way he
contributes his share of victims to the general maelstrom.  His
saloon is the primary school where our young women and young
men take their first lessons in rum-drinking.  It is he who fits
them for the regular bar-rooms and corner groceries. An important indclividual-eh?"




366       WHICif: THE RIGHT, OR THfE LPEFT.
"Who is that gentlemen on his left 2"
" Another contributor to the great cauldron: a retired bankrupt,
who defirauded his creditors out of a round million, and now
amuses himself by reading his favorite journal, Tlhe Satanic
C(7Zckle, smiling over the ruin of those whom he rendered penniless, and in maintaining a splendid position in society and society's church-thereby convincing men that neither the Church
nor society frown upon the conduct of great rascals: thus destroyinml  their confidence in both."
"That gentleman who is talking with Isabella —"'is a hardware dealer, a member of society's Church, and is
relma.rkable for never having uttered a pleasant word in his life.
I-e is generally feared, and thoroughly disliked."
"For what?"'
"His acrimronious  i)tirit.  He takes a special delight in displaying his venom, and uttering bitter sneers.  Ile has a quick
eye, and alwNNays looks at things in their most hideous light. His
name is Griscom, but he is better known as'the sarcastic gentleman.' IHe takes great pleasure in railing at those things which
pure minds regard with reverence."
"That old gentleman who is conversing so snappishly with
that old lady in ringlets?"
"' Is a Mr. Jessup-a cotton-broker.  He is a bosom friend of
the sarcastic gentleman, and is generally known among his acquaintance as'The Little Wasp.' He is very rich, and very
bitter, and enjoys himself by stinging people."
"Who is that gentleman behind him?"
"A Mr. Whipple; a gentleman of leisure; who has nothing
to do but to amuse himself, and finds that very hard work. His
father left him  three hundred thousand in cash and property,
and-nothing else.  He is without a mind, a hope, or an aim.
He finds talking very hard work, and talks therefore only when
compelled.  He is very fond, however, of being looked at by
the ladies most of whoin think him handsome, because his fortune




W;VICH: TE RIGHT, oR THE LEFT.                30f7
is. Observe, there are three young twenties and two twentyfives struggling with each other to catch his attention. But their
labor will amount to nothing.  He is too indolent to feel an
interest even in black eyes. Still he has been known this evening to make a remark."
Indeed!"
"Yes, concerning our fiiend Miriam.  He thinks'she might
suit him.' "
Samuel turned slightly pale.
" What do you think.2" asked Mr. Crittenden, noticing the
change in his features.
"I would rather see Miss Selden wedded to a worthier man,"
replied Samuel, growing paler than before.
" Bravo!" mused Mr. Crittenden. " I know the secret of your
heart, my friend!"  Then speaking aloud, he said-" One thing
is certain: Miriam will not marry one who is unworthy of her.
She is too good for that! By-the-way, her cousin shines out
to-night. She is decidedly killing!"
"Miss Landon shows well in a drawing-room," returned Samuel, tranquilly.
"Good! Mirrry may laugh at the rivalry of her bold cousin.
My darling is safe!" mused Mr. Crittenden.
"Pray, who is that gentleman with the moustache, who is
conversing in the corner, there, with that middle-aged lady 2"
" An important contributor to the social cauldron.  That, sir,
is one of the arrantest scoundrels that ever had the entre'e of
society."
"His business?"
"That of a professional libertine! My dear boy! what is the
matter?  You are shuddering again!"
" It is a weakness to which I am liable when in the presence
of deliberate evil," replied Samuel, his mild, manly features
overshadowed with an air of mingled pain and horror.  "And
is this bad man received in society, like the rest 3"




368       WHICH: THE  RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Certainly; and in society's church, too."
"One would think that even society's church would not coun.
tenance a beast," observed Samuel.
"Quite a mistake. Society's church will receive any one who
has money."
"This man is rich, then 2"
" He is rated at one hundred and fifty thou.bun0, which he will
come into possession of at the death of his fat.le, who is rmarching rapidly to his grave with consumption."
" Is he a converted man 2"
"He has been a member of society's chur{ i for twenty years,
but was never very particular about other people's rights or
feelings. WNhen he dies, the everlasting gulf yill be richer in its
population by one great rascal."
"Can nothing  be done to save him bef re he dies?" asked
Samuel, naively.  "Our Prince is very gcod, and His Father
very kind, you know."
" I think not," replied Mr. Crittenden.  "' The old fellow is a
proud, harsh, spiteful old codger, who never did a generous thing
in his life.  He has an idea that all the world was made for himself.  He is cruel, selfish, and sordid, to the last degree.  He
regards religion as a capital thing to make money out of, and
believes that it was projected by men, in the beginning, for no
other purpose. He regards prayer and preaching as so much
machinery to sustain an institution whose principal object is to
keep the world in order. He has no belief in its divine origin.
Future happiness and future punishment he regards as all fudge.
He is not certain of it, but he inclines to that impression.  And
this, my dear boy! is the private belief of three-fourths of society's church.  There-you are shuddering again!"
"You do not mean this!" said Samuel, uneasily.
" I do, most certainly."




WrLICi: THE RIGET, OR THE LEFT.                369
"There is no foundation in the Bible for any such frightful
doctrine."
"You forget that society's church never read the Bible, and
care as little about what it teaches as they do for what becomes
of their next-door neighbor."' But why deceive themselves with so absurd a doctrine 2"
"Because it is a very satisfactory one. They do not desire to
change from their present way of doing.  They find surface honesty, surface genuineness, surface piety, and hunmbugging each
other, very pleasant, very amusing, and very gratifying. Hence,
a doctrine which will favor or admit of their continuance in huimbug, is very acceptable. This is the main reason why clergymen
meet with so little success among our fashionables, who do not
wish, and will not allow themselves to be converted. They want
a doctrine which will permit them to do as they like; when they
can't find it in the TWord of God, they look for it in the word of
society, and there they find it!"
" Dear friend, you draw frightful pictures!"
"Do you doubt their accuracy 2"
"I cannot do otherwise."
"In that case, I must brine up a witness!' observed Mr. Crit..
teaden, playfully.  Then  slightly elevating his voice, he said,
Mr. Griscom- one word!"
" With pleasure," answered that worthy.  " What is it?"
" My friend, here, is anxious to know the materials of fashionable society.  Will you, who understand the subject so well, be
kind enough to enlighten him?"
"Fashionable society," said the sarcastic gentleman, " is made
up, in its males, of men who have not yet failed; in its females,
of women who still have credit at Stewart's, on account of the
undiscovered insolvency of their husbands."
The tittering of the assembly told the speaker that he had
made a hit.
16*




370      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Anything more in my way?" he asked, patronizingly.
"Nothing just now, Mr. Griscom," answered Mr. Crittenden.
"Thank you!"  Then turning to Samuel, he said, "You see I
am not very wide of the truth in my pictures!"
" Your witness is one who enjoys a fling at the poor prisoner
at the bar!" returned Samuel, with a mournful smile. "Hence,
his testimony is of but little account."
" My dear boy! you have the hopefullest of hearts."
"And why should not you, Mr. Crittenden?  What good in'ailing at evils?  Why not make an effort either to lessen, or to
remove them altogether? Say you should see a child running
wild on a Sabbath morning in the street?  Would you find any
satisfaction in scoffing at the carelessness or indifference of its
parents?  How much better, how much more gratifying, to take
it by the hand, and lead gently it to some Sabbath school, where it
would hear of good things, which might change the whole tenor
of its thoughts, the whole tone of its future? I have never seen
the beneficial effects of a sneer; but I have seen, and experienced,
great joy in witnessing, the good results of effort. And therefore
I alm hopeful.  Come, dear friend-let us not scoff at men's
blindness or infirmities, but do something which will help them
to see better and to get strong. They will thank us for that;
but they would hate us for the sneer."
" Nay," said Mr. Crittenden, " they would neither thank you
for your kindness, nor appreciate the nobleness of your motive."
"If they would not, HE would!"
"There you are again!" observed his companion, with a laugh.
"What is the good of bringing up one's knowledge of the
world before you!  Why don't you give a poor fellow  a
chance?"
"You won't give yourself a chance! You always start from
the wrong point. Take a Christian's, instead of a worldling's
view of these things, and you will always come off with satisfac



WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                371
tion to your inmost heart. But we have wandered away from
the libertine."
"And  fortunately.  He completes my gallery of living
portraits. I have called your attention to them, to show you
what a dirty set of dogs are arrayed in society on the side of
evil. These rascals, and the professions which they represent,
are the leading contributors to the cauldron of social vice and
error. These are the creatures who keep society in its present
corrupt state.  Were it not for a vicious literature, which undermines the morals of all classes; for little minds, who make great
ado over the smallest and absurdest of human aims; for society's
gross error in admitting known knaves into its circle; for the
dirty dogs, who manufacture poisonous drinks; for the unprincipled beasts who, in their gorgeous saloons, educate the people
up to easy drunkenness; for the base rascals who sell this poison
in its naked form; for the mean witlings of the press, whose
highest ambition is to sneer at Jehovah, and everything which
bears a show of goodness; for the Satanic Chuckles which pander
to and keep alive the lowest of all human ambitions, and the
vilest of all human thoughts; for dishonest members of the
Church, who destroy men's confidence in, and respect for, religion;
for wealthy idleness, which leads wealthy thoughtlessness to
believe that man's highest destiny is simply to amuse himself,
and to cultivate selfishness; for society's blunder in not branding
libertines as the worst of felons, or destroying them like other
serpents, instead of admitting them into the drawing-room or the
Church; for society's great error in not avoiding all scoffers at
religion, honesty, or purity, as it would any common lunatic
whose freedom and want of sense were dangerous to the common weal:-but for these, the world, aided by a noble pulpit,
and a noble literature, would soon banish all minor evils, and
right itself."
"Very true, sir," said Samuel.  "And now that we know




372      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT,
where the fountains of all this mischief are, let us go to work and
dry them up."
" Us?"
"Certainly. Let us at it, in the name of our King and Prince.
With Them on our side, we shall be equal to a whole army!"
Mr. Crittenden looked with mingled amazement and admiration at the sublime confidence and marvellous faith of the young
Christian. Then extending his hand, he said, with emotion"I am with you, henceforth, in your great enterprises.  Command me, sir, as your lieutenant.  From this hour I ain a campaigner for Our Lord!"
"Oh, sir! you will find His service so very easy, sweet, and
good! Oh, what great things we'll do together for His cause!
You —you," he repeated, in a broken voice, "you make me so
happy-happier than I can express!"
They shook hands, warmly.
"' Hark!" said Mr. Crittenden, "the conversation is becoming
general.  We must take part in it.  Who knows how a good
word from us, to-night, may tell in the future for Our Prince!"
" The right spirit, sir!" said Samuel, joyfully.
"Hark!  They are attacking Him now. The fight is begunperhaps to try our zeal. Who knows?  We must mingle in the
fray.  His service!"
"Wait a moment," said Samuel, gently. "': Let's bide our time,
till we can deal a telling blow."
"Agreed!"
"Life," said Mr. Sly, in answer to a query from Mr. Jessup,
"is a small affair of fifty or sixty years."
"What do you think of it, Mr. Townsend?"
"Life," answered that gentleman, "is simply a bitter jest."
Mr. Crittenden pressed his companion's arm.
"You do not believe that!" said Samuel, stepping forward.
"No?  Why not?"




WHICHI: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               373
"Simply because it is not true."
"Really, Mr. Leland," said the merchant, drawing himself up,
"you are very complimentary!"
"Young mnen, with neither knowledge nor experience, are so
very wise!" observed the cotton-broker. " Let's see," he added.
looking around at the company to catch their attention and
invite their admiration, "there's a glorious old proverb —' The
young man is proud in his little wisdom and self-conceit!' "
"You have quoted the proverb well, sir," said Samuel, calmly.
" But there is also another-I mean it not unkindly-which runs
thus:' Wisdom follows not always with gray hairs!' 
The cotton-broker blushed, and eyed the young man spitefully.
"There is a higher and better wisdom than that which comes
from a long and bitter experience, with the world," said Samuel,
observing his glance with pain.  " Who has not learned that,
though he have learned all things else, has learned nothing. The
little child who has a single grain of faith in it, or has been
favored with one lone glimpse of it, is a giant to him in knowledge, though he bear above his brow the baldness or the silver
of whole centuries."
"Yes," sneered the cotton-broker, " cant!"
"No," returned Samuel, with mild impressiveness-" Truth,
which neither the young man's pretensions, nor the old man's
experience, can set aside.  What is the value of that experience
which teaches us faith only in-our own wisdom? The man who
has expended a long life in seeking wealth among the mountains,
talks learnedly of their barrenness; and smiles incredulously
when he is told that another, who has gone over only a fourth
of their surface, has picked up a pocketful of rubies.  And yet
the rubies were in the mountains when he-the man of many
years-went through them.  That he did not find the precious
stones, was not that he had no eyes, but because he did not turn
them in the right direction.  Now, I put it to your candor-are




374       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
the rubies worth  one mill the less, because another found
them?"
" Ha, ha! ho, ho! he, he 1" said Mr. Jessup, with his usual facetiousness.  "Very clear, indeed!  Reminds me of a certain
little Solomon who always had a funny way of putting on great
airs when indulging in the most oracular of-commonplaces!
And now, sir, allow me to put it to your candor: What"twirling his gray beard with derisive deference,% "has your marvellous sagacity discovered, that I have not?"
"'One thing important: respect for truth, let it come from
whatever well," replied Samuel. " Life is not a bitter jest. But
if a man will look upon it in that light, he loses all the delicious
sweetness of the better view. From childhood to old age, man's
life is a perpetual succession of solemn compacts — with his
parents, love and obedience; with his teachers, application to his
studies; with his playmates, gentleness and fairness; in riper
years, with society, courtesy; with business, diligence and prompt
honesty; with the State, faithful citizenship; in peace, prompt
service in her hour of peril; with the partner of his days, confidence, faithfulness, and love; with the world, concord; with
himself, earnest manliness of thought and action; with his Maker,
pure allegiance and love.  Who keeps these compacts, finds life
no bitter jest, but a thing of earnestness, of beauty, peace, and
joy-a tranquil stream, bearing him gently on to the green shores
of the Bright Beyond!"
"I yield," laughed Mr. Townsend. " The compacts floor me!"
"Our young friend," sneered the cotton-broker, "reminds me
of my pastor, who is always prepared with a capital homily, which
will do for any enemy that comes along."
"Does he favor you with many?" asked the witty editor.
"Every time he sees me."
"Then you are one of his enemies 2"
"Sir 1" exclaimed the cotton-broker, reddening, " you are —



WHIci: THE RIGHT, OR THIE LEFT.             375
"Quite cool-which, I regret to say, you are not!" laughed
the witty editor. " The fact is, Mr. Jessup, you are giving yourself a great deal of unnecessary heat. The room is already hot
ernough, and if you add to it, uselessly, you will render us all
exceedingly uncomfortable."
"Sir —you are a-"
"Now, don't —don't, Mr. Jessup, I beg of you; or we shall
be compelled to hoist the windows, and that, at this season, which
is very inclement, might prove dangerous. You know how
easily young people catch cold!"
The cotton-broker gnawed his lip quite fiercely; but disdained
to reply.'Talking of preachers," said the witty editor, " did any of you
ever hear the learned Dr. Aston 2"
All declared that they had " never had that pleasure."
"He is a very learned man," continued the witty editor
"Mr. Ruffin, he would suit you to a T."
"Ah, indeed 3" said the beer-maker, quite delighted.
"Yes, sir. lie is so learned!"
"How learned 3"
1" Almost learned enough to explain the Scriptures so his congregation can understand them, but-not quite!"
"LAnd how would that suit me, sir 2" demanded Mr. Ruffin,
sternly.
"Because," said the witty editor, " it would be well for a man
of your business, when he gets up to the last Bar, to be able to
say that he didn't understand the Scriptures!"
"Sir," said the beer-maker, "your wit is a good deal like
your paper-very low and vulgar!"
"Observe how Satan's people appreciate each other!" whispered Mr. Crittenden to Samuel.
"And your wit," returned the editor of The Jolly Sneerer,
"is a good deal like your ale —very flat, stupefying and insipid!"




376        WHnICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
The beer-maker imitated his illustrious predecessor, the cotton-broker, by disdaining to reply.
The witty editor looked round him with the air of a conqueror,
and taking courage from his double triumph, he concluded to
finish off with Samuel himself.
"I believe, Mr. Leland," he said, "that you have some acquaintance with the pulpit?"
"A slight acquaintance but a very great respect for it, sir."
"Ah! that is owing, I apprehend, to your education.  Now
my acquaintance with preachers is more extensive than my
respect for them!"
"That, sir," replied Samuel, quietly, "is owing to your want
of education!"
The laugh that followed this quiet rebuke informed the witty
editor that he had not won his proposed victory-exactly.
" You got a benefit that time, Mr. Impudence!" chuckled the
cotton-broker. " You will draw in your horns now, I presume!"
" And hide your diminished head in some out-of-the-way
corner," added the brewer, enjoying his enemy's discomfiture.
"Shall I give you an order for a glass of my ale?"
"Pardon me," returned the witty editor, " I am very particular about what I drink. It is a weakness, I know; but I can't
get over it!"
"You don't like anything insipid 3" sneered the cotton-broker.
"No, sir —nor old, either!"
"Then, I presume," returned the cotton-broker, with an air of
spiteful triumph, "that you never read your re-vamped jokes in
your own paper!"
The witty editor turned livid, and, in his turn, disdained to
reply.
"Mr. Griscorn," asked Isabella, at the suggestion of her uncle, who desired to keep up the excitement, "what is your opinion of modern religion?"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                 377
"If that fellow grows impudent," whispered Mr. Crittenden,
" you must take him in hand!"
Samuel nodded, and bent his eyes upon the party addressed.
"Modern religion, Miss Landon," said the sarcastic gentleman,
with a knowing sneer, "is a hum-bug!"
W' hy so, sir?" demanded Samuel. " There is no difference
between the Church of to-day and the Church in the days of the
Apostles. We believe as they believed —what Christ taught.
How, then, is modern religion-which is simply the same as that
of the earliest times-a humbug 2"
"Because it is!" was the logical reply; "because its humbug
is visible to the dullest eye; because for whatever may be
dragged up in its favor, more can be adduced to prove that its
evil more than counterbalances its good!"' I hope, Mr. Griscom," said Samuel, " you will not forget
in whose presence you are saying this!"
" In whose presence, sir!" demanded the sarcastic gentleman.
" In your MA}KER'S, sir! In your Maker's, as well as in that
of another who will record every unjust word that may be
uttered here.  Pray, do not consider me impertinent or obtrusive: I speak not in the spirit of either. But I will take it as a
favor, if you will kindly refrain from  making any unfair strictures upon an institution which was planted by the hand of God,
and which draws its vitality from His Son!"
"I have a very high respect for you, Mr. Leland," sneered
the sarcastic gentleman, " but a still higher regard for-freedom of speech! As to the recording angel, and all that nonsense, it will do to frighten children with, but not me!"
The character and tone of this reply precluded the necessity of a reply; and Samuel resumed his seat with an air of
pain.
"You say, Mr. Griscom," ventured Mr. Townsend, for the
purpose of drawing him out, " that modern religion is a hum
bug. Wherein I"




378       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
" WhlereinT " repeated the sarcastic gentleman.  "In everything that we can see of it; what we cannot see of it, I have
nothing to remark upon, lest," he added, with a sneering glance
at Samuel, who was conversing in a low tone with Mr. Crittenden, "the recording angel should make a serious entry opposite
my humble name!"
" Come, come, Griscom, my boy," said the cotton-broker, derisively, " draw it mild! We must have some respect for our
young friend's tenderness-here!" he added, pointing, with a
quiet chuckle, to his head.
"A poor joke!" remarked Isabella, scornfully, " and as venerable as its maker!"
"Nay, miss," returned the disconcerted cotton-broker, with a
malicious smile, "I was not aware of your touchiness in that direction, or I should have had mercy upon your-weakness i"
Isabella flushed to her very temples, but mastering her temper
as quickly as it had risen, she returned, in a low dulcet tone,
which was the more cutting for the peculiar smile with which it
was accompanied"Pray, Mr. Jessup, don't spare your wit, which is perfectly
pointless; but do save me from the humiliating consciousness that
you could have the least consideration for any lady, and least of
all for me i"
"Nay, Miss Landon," returned the cotton-broker, with a malignant sparkle, "I have no design of entering the lists for so
amiable a heart, I assure you!"
"You give me a new lease of life, Mr. Jessup!" said Isabella.
"The bare thought of having so young and spruce a cavalier in
my train, would make me die of-laughter!"
This fling at his wrinkles rather disconcerted the snappish old
bachelor, who replied" Old age is respectable, miss!"
"Very true, sir, when it does not aspire to be thought young;
then, it is simply ridiculous!"




WHICiH: THE  RIGHT, OR THE  LEFT.              379
With these words, Isabella turned her back upon the old gentleman, and opened a conversation with Mr. Brigham.
Mr. Jessup smiled, and-bit his lip.'" But all this," said Mr. Townsend, for the double purpose of
directing attention from  the defeated old bachelor, who looked
as if he was sitting upon nettles, and of pitting his young favorite, who had no suspicion of his design, against the sarcastic gentleman, "all this is apart from the main question. Mr. Griscom
affirms that modern religion is a humbug in all its visible points.
Now a charge like that, coming from so keen an observer as Mr.
Griscom, is entitled to consideration. But then, again, although
I have the highest respect for Mr. Griscom's vast discerning
powers, I, for one, must be permitted to doubt the accuracy of
his statement, unless Mr. Griscom  shall see fit to favor us with
the proofs. In that case, indeed-as who can resist conviction?I might be tempted to take the same stand."
" You have too much intelligence for that!" said a low, sweet
voice on his left.
"We'll see about that, Miriam, by the time our satirical friend
gets through!" answered her uncle, in a laughing whisper.
" Men," said the sarcastic gentleman, with the air of one who
knew all about it, and more too, "men join the Church from one
of two motives: either to extend their business, or to secure a
social position.  When you see an individual becoming what the
world calls pious, you may safely set him down as having a design which a reputation for piety will assist him in carrying into
effect. In fact, it is a good rule to go by, that The more religious
a man is, the greater is his knavery. I always avoid a pious
man, for fear he will pick my pocket. I may be wrong, but I
cannot help it. I have seen the world, and studied it; and I
flatter myself I have not studied it in vain."
" How old are you, sir." asked Samuel.
"Fifty years," answered the sarcastic gentleman.
"And that is the sum  of your wisdom! HIeaven help you!




380      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
Why, sir, there are little children in our Sabbath school who
know more than that!"
" Ah, indeed!" said the sarcastic gentleman, showing his teeth
in a sardonic laugh. " Little childrenl?"
"Little children, sir —who have learned how to cherish and
reverence an institution which, apart from its higher claims,
teaches them to protect the helpless, to heal the sick, to clothe
the naked, to forgive their enemies, and to do good unto all
men."
" Very pretty things to —preach!" sneered the hardware dealer.
" And very comfbrting to practise!" returned Samuel.
"Perhaps you know of some who do that!"
"All of God's people do it!"
The hardware dealer laughed outright.
"You are a very amusing individual!" he observed, derisively.
"We have six hundred members in our church, and I have
yet to learn that they disturb themselves very seriously in that
way!"
"-There is a vast difference between the facts in the Church and
the facts in your mind, Mr. Griscom! If you take no pains to
get at the real ones, you cannot expect that they will force themselves *upon your notice. And yet there are more exemplars
of practical Christianity among your congregation than you have
any idea of. I am myself acquainted with seven; all of whom
are noble monuments of Christian goodness!"
"Fudge!"'" 0 sir, why do you discredit this, without first making some
inquiry concerning it." said Samuel, reproachfully. " Why doubt
the existence of love, meekness, gentleness, benevolence, and
single-minded piety, because they do not come under your own
observation, and because they do not appear in the channels in
which you move?  Take a stroll in their channels, and you
will find them abundant as the stars."




WHICH: THE PIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               381
"My dear Mr. Leland," smiled the hardware dealer, ironically,
"' you have a fertile imagination. It is so singular that you should
see so much more in your eight-and-twenty years than I have
been able to discover in fifty; and mine are inquiring eyes, believe me!"
"Oh, sir," returned Samuel, "why persist in a disbelief ill
human goodness-why draw a wilful veil between your mindbright only with deceptive views, and the real? Man of fifty
years!" he added, in a tone which electrified the assembly, " you
have wasted half a century in profitless and ungenerous work.
What evil has God heaped upon you, that you should wage war
upon His institutions? What injury has my Prince inflicted
upon you, that you make mock of the goodness and fidelity of
His people? What wrong have Mankind done to you, that you
should sneer so pitilessly at their weaknesses?  Man —man!
have you no HIGHER airm than to play the scqf'er?'  What enjoyment find you in it —-what benefit-what good?  Whom does it
help, relieve, cheer, or strengthen?  Compare yourself, sir, for
one moment, with all your wealth, experience, and worldly knowledge, with the humble Christian craftsman, who, for love of his
Redeemer, fills up his basket every Saturday night, and wanders
from chamber to chamber of the yet poorer, making sad hearts
glad, and feeble ones strong. Contrast the happiness of that poor
toiler on his errand of mercy, with that which comes to yourself
from your bitter mockery, and say which is the truer!"
A murmur from the assemblage told the hardware dealer that
public opinion was rather setting in against him. That worthy,
however, was perfectly undaunted. Like all sarcastic individuals;,
he gathered strength from defeat.
"You are, I believe, a pious manll?" he said, with a sneer.
"I profess to serve my Maker," said Samuel.
"Ah! you only profess to do so?"
"I endeavor to do so inl fact, as Twell."




382      WVHIcII: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Ah! yes," returned the hardware dealer, ironically, "they
will all tell you that, when cornered; those who connect themselves with the Church to serve their pockets, they who attach
themselves to it for the purpose of smuggling themselves into
respectable society, and all!"
" For which of these two objects did you join the Church, sir?"
"For neither," answered Mr. Griscom.  "I connected myself
with it in order to study the humbug of modern religionists, from
the knowing little children upward!"
" A singular motive, I will not say a praiseworthy one! How
long have you  been a member of the Church, Mr. Griscomn 2"
"Before you were born, sir!"
"And in all that time you have been analyzing the Church,
studying the Church, and found nothing in it, but-"
"Cant and humbug!" broke in Mr. Griscom, with a sneering
laugh, which he designed to be very knowing, very bitter, and
very crushing.
Samuel regarded him, for a few moments, with astonishment.
The sarcastic gentleman smiled with an air which seemed to
say, " Aha! I've demolished you at last-have I."
But Samuel did not appear to be conscious of having been demolished at all.
"And you have been studying the Church over twenty-eight
years, Mr. Griscom," he said, "and found in it nothing but cant
and humbug!"
" Nothing more, Mr. Leland, I assure you!" returned the sarcastic gentleman.' And you say that to me, sir, and to this assemblage of intelligences?"' To you and to them, sir'! I am not one to go back of lilmy
word. My ancestors fought in the Revolution, sir!" said the
sarcastic gentleman, loftily.




WHIcH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               383
"What has the latter fact to do with the case in point?" asked
Samuel.
"' That I am not to be trifled with!"
" Who is trifling with you, sir 2"
The sarcastic gentleman turned pale. He discovered that he
had made a very stupid remark.
"I stand ready to maintain my position!" he said, doggedly.
"Prove it, then, sir," said Samuel.  "I am interested in its
establishment, if it can be established; and in its refutation, if
it cannot be established."
The hardware dealer was silent for a few moments. At length
his countenance brightened, under the magic influence of a fresh
idea. His eyes sparkled. Already his lively imagination enabled
him to behold his opponent writhing in the humiliation of an overwhelming defeat.
" I will favor you with a few evidences of the weakness of your
ground," he said, "or rather with a few pictures of certain of
your friends, who were, like yourself, clamorous for the rights of
the Church, and absolutely majestic in their piety!"
"' Bravo!" whispered Mr. Brigham to Miss Landon.   "The
gentleman  is spreading  himself.  Now  for something trenleldous-"
"Like himself!" answered Isabella, "or," she added, "like
you!"
The confidential clerk bit his lip.
"I am waiting, sir," said Samuel.
" And you will not have to wait long, my friend, depend upon
it," returned the hardware dealer, with an air which implied that,
now that he had taken the young man in hand, it was his intention to make short work with him.
The assembly pricked up their ears, and looked at each other.
"Now we are going to have fun!" whispered Mr. Townsend
to his wife.




384       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
The latter nodded, and glanced at Mfr. Crittenden, who smiled,
and glanced at Miriam, who was regarding the hardware dealer
with an expression of pain.
" I will give you a few pious samples," said the sarcastic gentleman, by way of an introductory flourish. " There was, to begin
with, your old and dear friend, Mr. Jones, who swindled his
creditors out of two hundred and twenty thousand dollars, deserted
his wife and child, and wound up by running off with another
man's wife, the mother of two highly interesting children. He
was a very pious brother-one of your trustees, in fact-carried
around the plate, and was remarkably fond of prayer-meeting.
Indeed, the fervidness of his prayers used to throw those of his
brethren into the shade. In that respect, sir, they were almost
equal to your own!"
Samuel made no reply.
The hardware dealer wreathed his lips into a patronizing smile,
and continued:
" You asked me for the proofs, sir, and I feel bound in honor
to produce them!"' Go on, sir!" said Samuel, calmly.
"Then there was your other dear friend and pious brother,
Mr. Rankin," said the sarcastic gentleman, in a tone which sent
a shudder through the assembly.  "He, too, was a bright and
shining light. He used to make the softest, mildest, sweetest of
prayers, and walk from prayer-meeting to a —gambling-table.
IHe was so pious that he paid eight hundred dollars a year for his
pew; not to be talked about-O no, but simply because he was
so good! At church, on Sunday, who so devout as'dclear brother
Rankin!' During the sermon, who so contemplative!'Ah,'
said everybody,' brother Rankin is piously weighing the words
of the preacher!' All a mistake, He was merely considering
how high he should make his stakes on Monday night! When the
congregation Saw a te:ar in his eye, they innocently attributed it




WHICH: THEE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              38,
to the touching eloquence of the discourse; but it proved, after
all, to be simply a tear to his losses at faro on the evening before!
He carried around the plate, too, and was so unctuously pious
that everybody said of him,' He is a saint!' Well, it was subsequently discovered that this saint was, in plain language, a
miserable thief, a private blackleg, and a fast liver-on other
men's money. In the polite phraseology of our times, he was a'defaulter' to the tune of seventy-five or eighty thousand dollars.
To conclude the catalogue of this pious worthy's crimes, he committed suicide-piously leaving his wife and children to the
parental care of the-alms-house!"
"Go on, sir," said Samuel.
"Certainment!" said the sarcastic gentleman, with mock-graciousness; "but I warn you that it will take me till morning to
get through."
"No matter," returned Samuel, calmly.  "Go on, sir."
" Oh, if you will have it so, Mr. Leland, you shall be accommodated to your heart's content. Then there is Mr. Wilson, of the
dry goods firm of Gates & Wilson. He was always so good, and
so glad to see you. Why, sir, one would suppose that that man
was the blood-born brother of all mankind, he was always so
delighted to see everybody. How he would weep over the
preacher's eloquent pictures of Christ's sufferings, or a sermon
on the poor! In fact, he was always in tears. How he would
press a sister's hand, and talk to her of the delights of heaven;
and how fond he was of inviting himself to their houses to
pray for and with them! And with what pleasure he made the
acquaintance of every new member of the church; how particularly he inquired after their own and their family's healths, from
the antique grandmother down to the last little contribution; how
affectionately he invited everybody to call and spend the evening
with his family, always taking care to let you know that he himself was never at home; aud how cordially he invited himself
17




386      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
to everybody else's house, and, when there, tenderly inquiring
how much you paid for every article in it, whether you got it at
a' bargain,' a polite way of learning whether you paid cash for it,
or got it on tick; what your rent stood you in, and whether the
landlord was inhuman enough to demand security, and if so, who
was the kind friend that stood by you in that trying momentwhere you came from, how many there were in the family,
together with the amount of property which had already been, or
was to be, divided amongst you-all of which information he
carefully recorded, if not in a book, at least in his memory, for
future reference! And then, as the breath of misfortune came in
your path, how ready he was in-turning his back upon you, and in
wondering what you meant by bowing to, or calling upon himhim, a perfect stranger to you! Well, Mr. Leland, this dear
friend and pious brother of yours-or rather his firm, which is
the same thing —failed yesterday, doing his dear creditors, as
one of them informed me to-day, out of a cool two hundred
thousand!"
His auditors stared at one another. The party spoken of was
known to nearly all present, and the news of his failure took
them by surprise.
Mr. Crittenden glanced at his partner-the latter returned the
look with a sly sparkle of business joy. The bankrupt house
was one rival the less to the great house of John P. Townsend!
" That firm has, for a year past, been offering me very tempting inducements to change houses," mused the confidential clerk.
"And they have caved in at last, for all their craft and honey!
Well, I've been expecting it for some time!"
" Have you done, sir 2" asked Samuel.
"That is as you please, sir," answered the sarcastic gentleman.
"If you wish for any more, be kind enough to signify it. I am
not exhausted, I assure you!"
"Go on, sir," said Samuel.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             387
"There is another of your dear friends, Mr. De Witt. The
sleek, fat, pious Mr. De Witt, who always found so much comfort in prayer, and yet who never looked upon an acquaintance
without considering how much he could make out of him. The
wise, knowing, crafty Mr. De Witt, who, as everybody thought,
had grown rich upon his judicious mixture of rascality and religion. He, too, used to make long prayers; he, too, was so
charmed to cultivate loving friendships with his dear brethren;
and he, too-the oily, well-fed rogue! —carried around the plate,
into which, as everybody knew, he never himself dropped a sixpence! Well, sir, this dear, delightful, pious rascal hung himself
this morning, owing a credulous and' done' world between three
and four hundred thousand dollars!"
All started at this announcement.
"Is that true?" asked Mr. Townsend.
"I learned it from one of his brothers-in-law, on my way
hither," replied the sarcastic gentleman, who appeared to be perfectly delighted at the sensation which had been created by his
last gun.
" Did Mr. De Witt owe you anything?" asked Mrs. Townsend,
in a whisper.
"Not a dollar," answered her husband.
Mrs. Townsend breathed easier, and then glanced at Miriam.
Both were thinking of Mrs. De Witt's treatment of her sisterthe helpless Mrs. Jones.
"Poor creature!" murmured Miriam, sympathizingly. " How
hard she will find poverty-she who could not endure prosperity!
I must do something for her!" And she began to think how she
could serve the widow, without wounding the latter's pride.
Mrs. Townsend's idea was as follows:
" Thank Heaven! that odious creature will at length taste of
a little of the bitterness which she administered so freely to her
sister!"




388      WHICH:  THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
Isabella was quietly thinking of the sensation which the affair
would create the next day, when it should be reported, with all
the interesting details, in the newspapers.
Mr. Townsend was silently congratulating himself upon his
good fortune in not " doing" a note of the defunct's which had
been tendered him some two or three days before.
Mr. Crittendenr was considering how utterly unfit society and
society's church had rendered Mrs. De Witt to grapple with
poverty.
Samuel was pondering, with a shudder, upon the chances of the
soul which had precipitated itself, reckless and unrepentant, into
the presence of its Judge.
The sarcastic gentleman was felicitating himself upon the stir
which he had produced and the triumph which he had achieved
over his opponent.
The little publisher was wondering how a series of volumes
upon the " Lives of Illustrious Suicides" would go, in the style
of the successful "Illustrious Highwaymen" and "Illustrious
Pugilists."
"This is a very shocking affair!" said the brewer, gloomily.
" I don't like it!"
" I hope it don't touch you, sir." said the hardware dealer.
"But it does touch me, Mr. Griscom, and very seriously, too,
sir. What right had that rascal to hang himself before seeing
me l The scoundrel-the base, ungrateful scoundrel!"
"Hold, sir!" interrupted Samuel.  "You forget: you are
speaking of the dead!"
"Dead or alive, sir," cried the brewer, foaming with rage,
" the rascal owes me ten thousand dollars, borrowed money. He
had it from me last week, stating that he only wanted it for thirty
days; and now-why, it is perfectly frightful!"
"Take it cool, take it cool," laughed the witty editor. "The




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              389
public will drink back your loss in Ruffin's Ale, before the thirty
days shall be up!"
" And besides," said Mr. Sly, with the air of a man who desired to make an impression, "there is a large profit in ale."
" How do you know that, sir?" demanded the brewer.
" I figured it out, once," returned Mr. Sly; " and finding the
profits so heavy, I was within an ace of going into it."
"And what, sir, may I ask," inquired Mr. Crittenden, "'influenced you from taking up so praiseworthy a business?"
"The still greater profits in book publishing!" chuckled Mr.
Sly.
" I have always heard that book publishing was a poor business," remarked Mr. Crittenden.
"On the contrary, sir-that is to say, for a certain class of
books!" said Mr. Sly.
" Your own, for instance?"
"Yes, sir," said Mr. Sly, with becoming modesty. "We understand how to make publishing pay."
"'Anything for money-eh, Mr. Sly?" said Mr. Crittenden,
dryly.
" Men must live, you know!" faltered that worthy, looking exceedingly foolish.
"' Why, what are you doing, Mr. Chipp?" asked Mr. Townsend of the witty editor, who was pencilling rapidly on his tablets.
"Sketching for my next number the portrait of the first instance on record of a blushing publisher!" answered the witty
editor.
"Add under it," said the cotton-broker, who fancied he was
letting off a clever thing, " that he is a sly fellow-very sly;
but that he never could see when he was a butt!"
"Sir!" growled the little publisher, looking exceedingly fierce.
"Well, Mr. Sly," asked the cotton-broker, with a supercilious
stare, "what is it?"




390      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"No matter!" said Mr. Sly, in an humbler tone. "I presume
you were only joking."
"O, you presume that?  Indeed! Happy man I" returned
the cotton-broker, derisively.
The little publisher crimsoned to his temples, and wished himself a thousand miles away.
"After all," whispered Mr. Crittenden to Samuel, "society
appreciates rascals at their just value, and compels them, now
and then, to submit to the most abject humiliations."
Samuel was about to reply, when he was interrupted by the
hardware dealer, who was in nowise inclined to leave the result
of his fancied triumph over the young man in doubt.
"I apprehend, Mr. Leland, that you have had quite enough of
the contest which you were so eager to enter t" he said, in a voice
which turned all eyes upon the latter.
" Save a vast flow of bitter, rambling sarcasms, and three or
four dreadful pictures," returned Samuel, " I have heard nothing
from you tending to establish your position."
"Dear me!" said the hardware dealer, ironically.
"Perhaps, Mr. Leland," said the cotton-broker, " you can
favor us with something in support of your own?"
" Why, sir, a child could do that 1" returned Samuel. "Religion-modern religion, if you will have it so-stands, happily,
in need of no argument to sustain it. It is its own great advocate; and the evidence of its truthfulness and power lies in the
visible happiness of its people, and in the joy which it confers
upon all who embrace it. I shall therefore trespass neither upon
your intelligence nor your patience by a waste of unnecessary
words. But, with your permission, I will draw a portrait of an
every-day exemplar of the fruits of the want of religion in a single
individual."
"Hear-hear!" creid the hardware dealer.  "All those who
have never been pious-hear; all those who are not pious-hear;




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               391
and all those, of whom I am one, who never expect to become
pious-hear!"
Samuel surveyed him, for a few moments, with an air of painful surprise.
" One of these days, Mr. Griscom," he then said, " you will
learn that every sneer and sarcasm which you utter, outrage your
own dignity; that they are ungenerous and unworthy; and that
they are the issue only of bitter and self-blinding minds."
"Well," returned the incorrigible hardware dealer, " I am willing to wait until that happy period shall arrive. In the meantime
we'll take your portrait of a gentleman without religion."
"Listen, then, sir. John Smith was an inventor, a husband,
father, friend, citizen, and Christian.  John Smith, the inventor,
was a great man; in science he took a stand among the highest.
All of his energies, mental and physical, were given to new machines. It was his one idea; he lived for nothing else.  Had
any one asked him to define the one object of life, he would have
answered, New Machines. And he was faithful to his idea. But
John Smith the husband was another man; his wife had for her sole
counsellor and companion, her own thoughts; whatever she did,
however well done, was never noticed or appreciated by her
husband, because he had no mind for aught but new machines;
and so the poor woman pined and labored, and pined and struggled, and pined and-died. That was the end of the first chapter
in New Machines. John Smith the father was a miserable creature. Excepting in the *fact that he was the sire of three fine
boys, he had no right to that paternal name. He had plenty of
mind for his new machines, but no mind at all for his sons,
whom he left to take care of themselves. Poor lads! You
know how children will wander, when left without a guide. One
strayed among thieves, and became of their number; a second
fell among gamblers, and became of their kind; the third
associated with rowdies, became of their number, and was




392      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
killed in a prize-fight. Thus ended the second chapter in New
Machines.  John Smith the friend was a misnomer; he was
a friend to no one, not even to his wife, nor yet to the issue
of his own loins; who assisted him with timely influence or
capital, he never so much as thanked; friend after friend
turned from  him  in indignation and disgust.  By-and-bye,
he had not a kindly wisher in the world.  Thus ended the
third chapter in New Machines. John Smith the citizen was
a nonentity.  He took no interest in public affairs.  The
country might have gone to pieces without his knowing it. He
left the State to take care of itself. If a great moral movement
came up, which, if carried, would relieve the people of a serious
evil, and which, if lost, would work them vast ruin, John Smith
knew nothing of it, cared nothing for it; or if a new measure was
proposed by the agents of sin, which would endanger our liberties, and throw the country back twenty or fifty years, John
Smith gave it no attention. At length a great reform measure
was brought up; its passage would have saved thousands of men
from  drunkenness, idleness, and poverty, thousands of wives
from penury and affliction, thousands of children from hunger
and neglect, thousands of citizens from oppressive taxation, and
the State from a burning shame; its defeat would have retained
all this evil. John Smith knew nothing about it, John Smith
cared nothing about it, and the measure failed for want of a
single vote. This was the close of the fourth chapter. John
Smith the Christian was a pitiful spectacle. He went to church
from habit. While there, being naturally of a studious turn, he
looked around to observe the peculiarities of the congregation
in dress, physiognomy, and manner, and amused himself by
ridiculing  their weaknesses.  When  service was begun, he
diverted himself by criticising the hymns, the choir, the literary
merits of the prayer, the Bible chapter, and the sermon; the
style of the preacher, his individualism in mind, form, feature,




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               393
voice, dress, gesture; and in comparing, balancing, and measuring the relative nervous forces of his intellect and body. To.the
Message itself, he gave no attention. When he had finished his
amusement, his mind returned to his one love —new machines,
and continued upon that, to him, all-important subject, to the
close of the service. Thus he spent his Sabbaths, thus he spent
his life. At length he was summoned by the Last Messenger, to
the presence of The Great JUDGE, to give an account for his
neglect of his wife, for his abandonment of the children whom
his Maker had committed to his care, for his ingratitude to his
friends, for the ruin which had followed to thousands by his
unfaithfulness in an important public measure, and for his sacrilegious amusement in the Temple of the Most High.  Thus
ended his last chapter. When he died, the unthinking said of
him,'What a great man the world has lost!' Ah! how much
nearer to the truth would have been the remark:'What a
Great World hath this poor sinner lost!' If John Smith had
only tempered his great mind with Religion-this institution
which you so sneeringly deride-then how different had been
the results of his career!  Mr. Griscom," added the young
Christian, impressively,' John Smith was one of many. He
bent every attribute of his nature to a single idea. On that one
altar, he sacrificed his wife, his children, his friends, his fealty to
humanity, yea, even himself. Mr. Griscom, your new machine
is Sarcasm-sarcasm against your fellow-creatures, who, believe
me, stand more in need of your love than your scorn-sarcasm
against the highest of all human institutions: The Institution of
God! Oh, sir —this is not well, not generous, not noble!"
"You appear to be perfectly rabid upon the sarcasm question!" laughefd the hardware dealer. "Most men are; but it
generally arises from their inability to play even in the same
line!"
Samuel made no reply.
17*




394       WRICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"One would think, to hear Mr. Leland," observed the idler,
" tat a fellow should never amuse himself."
"There are two kinds of amusement, sir," returned Samuel,
" as there are two kinds of everything: the harmless and the
harmful. I have no objection to the first, but every objection in
the world to the second."
"You have such a funny way of answering a fellow 1" observed
the lounger. "Knocking religion into him with every word!"
"A little religion, my friend, would do you no harm!" said
Charley Gibbs, coming up to Samuel's assistance. "I knew an
individual like you, once, who. was made quite a man by it."
"Ah! In what way?" asked the lounger, looking out from the
bevy of blondes and brunettes by whom he was surrounded.
"It rendered him useful both to himself and to society!" replied Charley.
" My dear fellow," said the lounger, favoring him with a prolonged stare, ". you are-"
"Didn't some one hear a bell?" interrupted Mr. Townsend,
for the purpose of arresting the personality.
" No, sir," rejoined the witty editor, comprehending his host's
idea, " it more resembled the noise of a beau in the midst of the
belles!"
This hit was so palpable, that even the lounger himself condescended to join in the laugh which it evoked.
" Do you carry your Christianity so far," asked the retired
banker, addressing Samuel, " as to expect a respectable congregation to mingle indiscriminately with the rag, tag, and bobtail of
the lower classes?'
" Yes, sir: although I should not designate the poor by that
appellation."'"A shocking doctrine!" observed the lounger. "Positively
frightful! It wouldn't take in our church!"
"Nor in ours!" remarked the hardware dealer.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               395
"Nor in ours!" said the brewer, with a grimace.
"Nor yet in ours!" said the banker. "We are very particular!"
"As for ours," said the little publisher, deeming this a good
opportunity to reinstate himself in the good graces of the assembly, "the sexton has his orders; and would lose his situation if he should permit the riff-raff in. It's the only way.
We have to be careful who we admit; or we should never
be able to keep up our respectability."
" Our respectability!" repeated the cotton-broker, mimicking him. "Neighbor," he added, with a cutting sneer, "when
your business fails to give you a living, bear in mind that I
shall be in want of a footman!"
"You are too hard upon poor Mr. Sly!" observed the banker.
"Not half so hard as you were upon the dupes of your
fraudulent banks!"replied the little wasp, quickly.
The banker was dumb.
" How harmonious are the ranks of the soldiers of Satan!"
whispered Mr. Crittenden to Samuel.
"Their thoughts are evil, and their evil follows them!"returned the young Christian.
"Mr. Leland," said the hardware dealer, who fancied that he
had at length found a way to throw his late opponent into
a knot from which he could not easily extricate himself, "I
should like to hear your reasons for opposing public opinion
upon church exclusiveness. As for myself, I hold to the belief that respectable people should not associate with nobodies
in the church any more than in society."
"My opinion also," said the lounger.
"And mine," observed the brewer.
"And mine!" ventured the little publisher, in hope, by following so popular a sentiment, to recover his former position.
"Now, look out," observed Mr. Townsend, in an under tone,




396       WiICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
to his wife. "Samuel will not leave these rascals an inch of
ground to stand upon."
"Come, Mr. Leland," said the hardware dealer, tauntingly,
"face the music, like a man!"
The assemblage regarded the young Christian with interest.
" I have ever entertained the opinion," said Samuel, " that, of all
places in the world, God's house is the very place where rich and
poor should meet as on a common ground.  Once within its
sacred walls, we are no longer in the world-no longer in the
midst of hollow pomps and little pride, of worrying poverty
and sickening guile-but in the solemn temple of The Most High.
When the rich man has crossed its threshold, he has left his
wealth behind him; the poor man his struggles, his misery, and
his cares. For both are then where wealth and poverty are as
naught, where rich and poor stand upon the same level: IN
DIVINE PRESENCE! Before theim stands the sacred desk; behind it, the envoy of The Redeemer. The solemn silence awes
them and subdues them; the solemn prayer stirs them, and reminds them that they are there, for all the wealth of the one,
and for all the poverty of the other, mere journeyers to the
Better Land. The song of praise, so arousing, so inspiring, they
join in, and find comfort in their hearts, pleasure in their souls.
Again the solemn silence awes them and subdues them; and then
the voice of The Message, spoken by The Lord's chosen servant,
falls-solemnly,warningly, cheeringly —on their ears, as never yet
fell human voice, as never yet fell human word. At sound of that
voice, the evil spirit within them stills its sinful whispers; the
angel spirit within them holds its breath in awe and reverence:
for One greater than them all-One whom all must hear-is
speaking: GOD! Ah! where is society, THEN?  Where wealth,
with its glitter, its pomps, and its pride? Where poverty, with
its rags, its stings, and its suffering?  Where all are swallowed
up and forgot-where the rich and the poor, the proud and the




WHICHi: THiE  RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.          397
humble, are all alike inferior —in the presence of The Only Superior! Ah! who shall say which one of all that throng, whether
he be rich or poor, has the best claim there?'Who shall say to
his neighbor:'This is not the place for one like thee' Who
shall say to one beside him, before him, or behind him:' This is
my God's house; go thou to thy God's house: for my God's
house is not thy God's house, nor is thy God's house for me!'
Ah! no thought there, then, of that! For THAT Voice is speaking, to which cherubim and seraphim hearkeh as to their Highest
Lord's, and it says:'This is MY house —enter freely!' Ah!
who shall gainsay The Omnipotent then and THERE! But The
Voice ceases-The Message is spoken-and hosannas ascend
from the contrite and humble throng. This over, all depart, with
The Blessing in their ears, and incense burning in their hearts to
The One Superior. Ah! happy, in that hour, the rich man who
forgets his riches; and happy the poor man, if he think not of
his poverty!"
As the young Christian concluded, his auditors expressed their
opinion of his stand in the discussion by a general clapping of
hands.
The hardware dealer bit his lip. He had laid a trap for his
opponent, and had only succeeded in catching-himself.
" Mr. Griscom,"' asked Isabella, at the suggestion of her uncle,
who desired to keep up the excitement, " what is your opinion of
the pulpit."
"If that fellow displays any more of his venom," whispered
Mr. Crittenden, to his young friend, " you must finish him."
Samnuel nodded, and bent his eyes upon the hardware dealer,
who now fancied that he had got hold of a topic which would
enable him to retrieve his fallen fortunes, and amaze the assemblage with his vast mental powers.
"The pulpit," said Mr. Griscom, ironically, "is a very good
thing-in its way. It is a capital companion for society. They
play into each other's hands very accommodatingly, on the plan




398      WEICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
of the two snow-ball factions-' you let us alone, and we'll let
you alone.' You know the story, of course-everybody does.
Men take to the pulpit. with the same motive that other men take
to the law, to medicine, or to dry goods-for a business!"
"What!' asked Mr. Crittenden, "simply to make money 2"
"To make money-nothing more," said Mr. Griscom, with the
air of a man who knew all about the matter, and could say some
very cutting things concerning it, if he chose.
"But don't you think that a very harsh, wholesale, and ungenerous statement?" asked Samuel, indignantly.
"When a man takes comprehensive views," returned the sarcastic gentleman, " he is somewhat apt to get beyond the sympathy of circumscribed minds!"
" But it appears to me, sir," said Samuel, " that there is such a
thing as taking views which are so very comprehensive that they
never penetrate beneath the surface. I do not wish to insinuate
that your views are of this nature; but I am tempted to believe
that, when you hurl so unjust a reproach at the highest and
noblest profession in the world, you really do not know how
wrongfully you misjudge it."
"' Noblest V " repeated Mr. Griscom, with a supercilious smile.
"Yes, sir. Perhaps you can name a nobler? I appeal to your
candor as a man: What calling so high as that of the envoys of
The Prince of Peace; what profession so noble as that which
seeks to save men-to lead them, like little children, to the feet
of their Redeemer?"
"One would suppose, to hear you talk;" sneered the hardware
dealer, "that you were born in some rural town where the inhabitants do nothing but cultivate greens!"
"Bravo!" exclaimed the witty editor, clapping his hands. "' A
hit; a hit: a palpable hit!'"
"A great deal like your own, Mr. Chipp,," said Isabella;
"and about as original!"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              399
"Another hit, and far more palpable!" cried Mr. Brigham.
"The Jolly Sneerer is declining in circulation!"
" Is it 2?" retorted the witty editor. " Fortunately, I have got
an idea which will make it rally, commencing with the next
number."
"Ah, indeed!" sneered Mr. Brigham. "Some fresh revamp
from the venerable Joe Miller!"
"No, sir," cried the witty editor, trembling with rage; " the
picture of a dry goods orang-outang, whose teeth form the
principal part of his head!"
"Are there any painters here?" broke in Mr. Townsend.  " I
want a sign dashed off right away, with, in large letters,' Mangling done here!'"
This sally restored good-humor, and Mr. Townsend added"' Come, Mr. Griscom, to the point. You say that clergymen
preach for money only, a position which Mr. Leland denies. Now
favor us with the evidence."
"1 fear," said Mr. Crittenden, " that our worthy friend will find
himself a little behind time!"
"We'll see that," said Mr. Griscom. " I have a supreme contempt for the pulpit, because preacher and people are no better
than they should be. They play into each other's hands-"
" You have already informed us upon that point, sir!" interrupted Isabella.
" I will now proceed to prove it!" said the satirical gentleman,
in his dry way.
"Very kind in you, sir, indeed!" said Isabella.
"There are churches," said Mr. Griscom, not heeding her remark, "where the members, who call themselves patrons of the
sanctuary, go, not to worship God, but, as to a play: to be seen,
and-amused.  This class-these patrons of the Lord! want in
their preacher, not piety, but-ELoQUENCE. That edifies them,
wakes up their dormant faculties, refreshes them. For this in



400      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
tellectual refreshment they will pay —liberally; while for piety
they will give-nothing.  These snobs want for their pastor one
who will preserve them from mental imbecility, refriesh them
with ornate thoughts, and never disturb the tranquil calm of their
self-complacency-that is to say, an eloquent preacher, andnothing more. They do not tell him this; but they leave him
to infer it, and to comport himself accordingly. If he fail to meet
their wishes, they discard him; if he accommodate himself to
their desire, they pay him a princely salary, and-despise him!
Now," said the sarcastic gentleman, with a flourish, " I mean to
say, with all due deference to the young gentleman from the
rural district, that churches of this description experience no
difficulty in obtaining pastors! Very' noble' men, no doubt; but
still very willing to adapt themselves to the wants of those who
employ them!"
The satirical gentleman paused, with an air which implied that
he was very well satisfied with himself, and that he was conscious
that he had maintained his position like a veteran, thus far.
"There is some truth in this rascal's remarks, after all-eh?"
observed Mr. Crittenden to his young friend.
Samuel made no reply.
"There are other congregations," continued Mr. Griscom, running his fingers through his hair, like one to whom triumphs of
this sort were of daily occurrence, "'or rather, other patrons,
who, in patronizing the church, patronize-themselves.  What
they want in their pastors, is not piety, but-LEARNING. And so
they look around for preachers who are capable of amazing them
once a week with their rich treasuries of lore- preachers who will
not disturb themselves with the consciences, but with the brains
of their hearers-who will make it a point, every seventh day,
to furbish up and put new life into their stupid, ignorant, and
decaying noddles. Now, I respectfully submit, that churches of




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              401
this sort find it very easy to obtain pastors who are willing —
very willing-to humor them in these particulars!"
The satirical gentleman paused again, and while playing with his
hair, looked down with modest triumph, like one who was perfectly aware that he had delivered himself of something very fine,
and was quite certain of a great many rounds of enthusiastic
applause.
" Have you got through, Mr. Griscom?" asked Mr. Crittenden.
"' O no, sir-only taking breath; that is all," answered Mr.
Griscom. " Then there are churches who want pastors who understand the happy art of giving the Gospel as wide a berth as
possible; who will sugar it over in so masterly a manner that it
will hurt nobody, and yet be somewhat like the Gospel, after all;
who will let them do just as they please, and not interfere with
them; who will lull them into soft religious ease, and let them
pass along, in their silken righteousness, without disturbing them.
VSell, churches of this stamp are not often compelled to do without preachers-not very often!"'' Our pastor is one of that sort," remarked the lounger, who
thought that' Miriam might suit him;' "and a capital fellow he
is, too. Lets us all do just as we like. Never agitates us, nor
himself."
"If he should make any attempt to arouse you, you would not
let him succeed, I presume 2" said Mr. Crittenden.
" Of course not," returned the idler. " We don't desire to be
disturbed. What we want is to be let alone!"';By all means, sir. Insist upon that! And in that hour
when you stand before the JUDGE, tell Him how bravely and
lordlily you compelled your pastor —one of His messengers!-to
know and feel the littleness of his place! Tell Him, too, THEN,
that you want HIM to let you alone!"
"Sir!" cried the lounger, starting from his chair, as if he had
been stung.




402       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Sir," returned Mr. Crittenden, "if you have not power
enough in that hour, and influence enough in that quarter, to
crush and ride over HIM, where will you be? Will you say to
YHim,'I don't desire to be disturbed? You let me alone, and
I'll let You alone!' "
The idler's cheek became livid.
" Ha, ha!" he cried, laughing, to hide his agitation. "Very
good-very good. But I don't like such jokes. They are positively shocking!"
" It is no joke, sir," returned Mr. Crittenden, calmly. "Making
light either of Jehovah, of the Redeemer, or of the Redeemer's
workmen-or throwing obstacles in the way of the latter, in
their efforts to rescue men from the stream which is hurrying
them onward to the Eternal Gulf, is no laughing matter, I assure
you! If you think the contrary, laugh on-encourage yourself
and your friends in neutralizing the honest labors of your pastor
-insist upon his letting you alone-nay, compel him to do so;
and by-and-bye, when you stand together at The BAR, he will
say,'This, Lord! is one of them who fought against Thee and
me!' 
The lounger made no reply; but the lesson was not lost upon
him. Ere many weeks, he was another and a better man.
"For my part," said Mr. Sly, "I agree with Mr. Griscom.
The pulpit is an unmitigated humbug."
" Of course you do, Mr. Sly!" observed Mr. Crittenden.
"We all understand your reason for thinking so. But one of
these days, when your share of flooding the world with brothel
and bar-room literature is finished, you will entertain views of a
somewhat different color!"
"Sir!" cried the little publisher, boiling with rage.
"0, sir!" returned Mr. Crittenden, calmly, " reserve your
airs for those whom they will impose upon. They are wholly
lost upon me!"




WHICH: TIE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                403
" Perhaps," said the hardware dealer, coming up to the assistance of his ally, "' perhaps lMr. Crittenden, who has never been
very famous for his piety, may be wholly ignorant of the character of religious machinery. LMany people are!'
"I admit the justness of your observation, sir," said Mr. Crittenden; " and I take shame for my delinquency hitherto in those
duties which every man owes to his Maker and Redeemer. But
I repent me of my error, and I call you all to witness that I am,
from this hour, on the side of my Master!"
"Joy-joy!" murmured Miriam.
Charley Gibbs looked at his intended, and observed in a whisper, " Won't this be rare news for our next meeting in the packing-room?  Won't there be great rejoicing!"
"' All this is from the point," said Mr. Jessup.  "The subject
is not of the sudden conversion of Mr. Crittenden, but of the
humbugs in the pulpit."
"One word, sir," said Samuel, stepping forward.  "Language
like this is unfair, unmanly, and ungenerous, unless you are prepared with something better than mere idle supposition, or unfounded conclusions, to sustain it. It is a common thing for
worldly minds to inveigh against the sacred profession, and to mistake irony for wisdom. I hope, Mr. Jessup, that if you have
any remarks to make upon the pulpit, you will make them in a
spirit of manly frankness; that you will use particulars, not
generalities, and employ facts, not sarcasms."
"Griscom," said Mr. Jessup, "give this young gentleman some
facts.  He wants facts —nothing but facts!"
And the cotton-broker roared with jolly laughter-at what,
nobody else knew, for they could see nothing very funny either
in Samuel's request, or in Mr. Jessup's remark.
"What sort of facts will you have, Mr. Leland?" inquired
the hardware dealer, in a tone which implied that he had a very




404:      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
extensive assortment on hand, and could accommodade the gentleman with any desired kind, and in quantities to suit.
"Those which confirm your right to brand the clerical profession with opprobrium," answered Samuel.
"There'll be warm work presently!" whispered Mr. Brigham to Isabella.  " Samuel is going to annihilate that fellow!"
"He is able to do it!" returned Isabella.
"Umph! y-es.  Perhaps so!" returned the confidential clerk.
It was evident from the looks and whisperings of the company
that they anticipated an engagement between Samuel and the
sarcastic gentleman, in which they did not expect that the latter
would come off conqueror.
Samuel himself was calm, earnest, and eager.  He felt that
he stood before the assembly as the champion of a profession
which every worldling considers it a mark of sagacious cleverness
to mock and say cutting things of; and he resolved, with his
Maker's help, to do good battle for the messengers of his
Prince.
"You want some facts, Mr. Leland." said the hardware dealer,
sneeringly.
"Yes, sir."
"You shall be accommodated.  I always make it a point to
gratify the whims of young men, because I was young myself
once, and, like you, had an overweening desire to be considered
wiser and sharper than I really was!"
" Ha, ha! ho, ho! he, he!" cried the cotton-broker, clapping
his hands.  "Very good. Hit him again, Griscom!"
" Not so very badA." remarked the witty editor, with the air
of a critic. " I've heard of cuts that were weaker!"
" The best of your own, for instance!" said Isabella.
And the laugh was against the editor.
" All this goes for nothing, Mr. Griscom," observed Samuel,
quietly.  "I asked you for facts, and not personalities. If, after




WHICH:  TiiE RIGHT, onR T:HE LEFT.             405
so learned and oracular a flourish, you have no facts to give, confess it like a man, and retreat from your position. There is no
shame in abandoning an untenable cause."
"Ah! you flatter yourself, Mr. Leland. My cause is both
tenable and satisfactory, as you will discover to your dismay
before I get done with you!"
"Facts, Mr. Griscom —not threats; facts!" said Samuel,
calmly.  " Don't beat about the bush with sarcasms, which are
harmless, because unworthy; but come to the point at once.
I am waiting for your facts, Mr. Griscom!"
The hardware dealer eyed the speaker for a few moments with
a derisive air, and then said" You appear to be very eager, Mr. Leland. Be cool, sir; be
cool. In discussion, there is nothing like preserving one's equanimity.  When I see a youth of your years so very hot, I
always feel a touch of pity for him. It's a weakness of mine to
look with compassion upon the rashness of young blood; but I
can't help it. Now, be cool, Mr. Lelailcb-be cool. It will do
you good-believe me!"
"These tricks do not impose upon Irme," said Samuel, quietly.
"Now, sir, I alm waiting for your facts!"
"' You cannot throw Mr. Leland off his guard, Mr. Griscom,"
said isabella, in a tone which provoked general laughter; "' and
therefore you might as well come to the point at once. Mr.
Leland understands all your moves, and-so do we!"
" O, Miss Landon," sneered the satirical gentleman, " if I am
expected to face two such terrible enemies. I shall most certainly
retreat!"
" 0, Mr. Griscom," interrupted Isabella, " be kind enough first
to show yourself strong enough for one!"
"Come, come, Griscom," laughed the cotton-broker, "you
might as well commence at once. Miss Landon will show you
no quarter, else!"




406      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Well, then," smiled the hardware dealer, making the best
of his position, "here goes. The pulpit is a humbug, because
its members preach for their congregations instead of for their
Master!"
"That is a wholesale charge, and therefore unworthy. It is
made every day by superficial witlings, but has no foundation
in fact. Wholesale denunciations never come from reflecting
minds. Oblige me, Mr. Griscom, by descending to particulars.
Name some one of our metropolitan clergymen whom you
know to be a traitor to his Master."
The sarcastic gentleman's eyes sparkled with anticipative
triumph.
"George," he said, addressing the lounger, " what is the name
of your pastor?"
" Mr. Gadsden."
"There," said the hardware dealer, with a dry grin, " is one,
to begin with!"
" How do you know that, sir." asked Samuel.
"You heard what George said a while since, I presume, sir."
returned the hardware dealer. "That was pr]etty good evidence.
It came from one of the gentleman's own parishioners!"
"Ha, ha! young man!" chuckled the cotton-broker, "Mr.
Griscom rather had you there!"
"Stop, stop," said the lounger, who had been ruminating upon
Mr. Crittenden's'joke,' " I take back what I said of Mr. Gadsden. Upon further consideration, I don't think him a very bad
minister. He preaches the Gospel as well as he knows how;
and he does know how pretty well. And, now I think of it, he
has been the instrument of leading a good many to repentance
since he has been among us!'
The satirical gentleman turned pale.
The cotton-broker bit his lip.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                407
The company indulged in a general titter, which glided off
into a general roar.
"Pretty good!" observed the witty editor.  "It will do for
an article in my next number."
"Your second evidence, sir?" said Samuel, quietly.
"You know, as well as I do," said the hardware dealer, " what
the general opinion is concerning ministerial unfaithfulness,
and-"
"Evidence, sir-evidence!" interrupted Samuel.
"Well, then, if you will have it —your own pastor: Mr.
Engold!"
" Mr. Townsend," said Samuel, turning to that gentleman, "you
are a trustee in our.church. You have known Mr. Engold for
many years. Frankly, now, and as a man who is bearing solemn
testimony: What do you think of his conduct as a pastor? Has
he, till within the last fortnight, done his duty to the best of his ability?  Has he been faithful, in season and out of season —making
all times his season? Has he preached like one who appeared
to feel the responsibility of his high office; like one who was in
the service of his Prince: like one whose chief desire was to lead
his hearers from sinful unto righteous ways? Answer, frankly
-honestly; as if you were at JEHOVAH's BAR!"
" Solemnly, then," answered the merchant, " I affirm it to be
my belief that-bating a few suspicions, for which, after all, now
that I reflect upon them, I can see no just reasons —Mr. Engold
has been ever faithful."
"You hear, sir?" said Samuel, addressing the hardware dealer.
"I do," answered the latter.  "But," he added with a sneering smile, " you forget the proviso in time:' Till within the last
fortnight!' What has happened since then? Has he proved
traitor, at last?"
"Mrs. Townsend," said Samuel, "answer him."
"Mr. Engold has, within the last fortnight, been the instru



408       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
ment of spiritual happiness to over an hundred hearts," replied
the latter.
Mr. Griscom colored, and ran his fingers through his hair, as if
in quest of an idea.
The cotton-broker partook of his friend's confusion, and looked
very much as if he wished himself somewhere else.
"Your evidence," said Samuel, to the hardware dealer.
"Now, where is the use in dragging up the incumbent of every
pulpit in the city for examination?" demanded Mr. Griscom,
impatiently.  "It is unfair!"
" And yet, sir, you had no hesitancy in arraigning the entire
body i" said Samuel, mournfully. " I put it to your candor, Mr.
Griscom: Which is the most unjust?"
"And I had a perfect right to do so," returned the hardware
dealer, in a fume.  "Everybody knows the inefficiency of hundreds in the profession."
"The question is not of their inefficiency, but of their unfaithfulness, Mr. Griscom."
" Well, then, of their unfaithfulness!" answered the hardware
dealer, fiercely. "Everybody is aware-"
"Evidence, Mr. Griscom! You are making a solemn charge,
sir. Evidence!"
"My own pastor, then: Mr. Fenton!"
"Do you know him to be false?"
"I think that, for a minister of Jesus Christ, he takes things
rather coolly!" was the half-laughing, half-sneering reply.
"' How, coolly?"
"Easy, then; if that will suit you better!"
"H' ow, easy?"
"Well," said the hardware dealer, showing more temper than
was at all necessary, " he don't allow the souls of his congregation to disturb him very seriously. I presume you comprehend me, now?"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THIE LEFT.               409
"I do not," replied Samuel, quietly.
"Then I'll be as plain as possible, sir, to accommodate the
singular dulness of your mind!"
" I will overlook your uncalled-for personality, Mr. Griscom,
providing you will be explicit."
"You are remarkably kind, sir!"
"To the point, Mr. Griscom."
" Well, then, sir," said the sarcastic gentleman, "I think that,
for one who professes so deep an interest in the business of His
Master, Mr. Fenton exhibits a remarkable lack of fire!"
"Energy, you mean?"
"Yes, sir."
"You forget, Mr. Griscom, that Mr. Fenton is not a man of a
vigorous mould.  He is, by nature, of a mild, tranquil temperament. His manner is easy, gentle, and subdued. It would,
therefore, be unfair to look for the same flaming energy in him,
that you would from a more robust man.  Clergymen, although
in the service of The Redeemer, are still human, and, for that
reason, subject, like all other men, to physiological laws. One
is not full of animal vigor, because he is suffering with a certain
degree of palpitation of the heart; a second is comparatively
tame, in physical display, owing to dyspepsia; a third, in consequence of a rupture; a fourth, from one of the many forms of
consumption; a fifth, on account of a pleurisy; a sixth, because
of some lung, liver, or other complaint, and so on; but nearly all
in consequence of some internal disease, which an undue agitation
of the nervous system might suddenly increase and render fatal.
Inconsiderate persons would sneer at these; and, because they
fail to exhibit the same muscular action which they evinced when
in sound health, or because they do not come up to the strong,
nervous, declamatory standard of other preachers of a sturdier
and bolder build, they thoughtlessly brand them as easy, lukewarm, and indifferent, and charge them with want of faithfulness,
18




410      iVHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
enthusiasm, et cetera! Others are mild from  constitutional
causes. One has no taste for violent delivery, and therefore
avoids it; another has no confidence in boisterous declamation,
and hence steers clear of it; while a third is mild from temperament. Mr. Fenton is one of the latter. His organization is of
a delicate, refined order. You would hardly expect him-a mere
student, with a student's habitudes-hirn, a mild-feeling and
mild-mannered gentleman by nature and education-to display
the muscular powers of one cast in the rough, energetic form of
an athlete. Mr. Fenton is of an entirely different make. In his
formation, nature bestowed greater attention upon his mind than
upon his body. He is, therefore, more remarkable for his
mental than for his physical developments. But what he lacks
in animal, he more than makes up in intellectual vigor.  His
style is calm, polished, and persuasive; his manner earnest and
impressive. He has done, and is doing, good work for his
Prince. However uncharitably you may judge him, he is yet a
faithful and successful soldier of The Cross. Have confidence in
him; for he is noble, worthy, and true. View him kindly,
frankly-not as if he were a stranger, in whom you felt no
interest-but as a man, a gentleman, an envoy from On High,
and your pastor: and you will find him a man, with a warm and
generous heart for you and all humanity; a gentleman, with all
the delicate susceptibilities and refined instincts of a gentleman;
an envoy, with a single eye to the service of his dear Lord; and
a pastor, prompt, earnest, and watchful of his flock-yearning,
striving, to lead and keep them in the heaven-path-and bending
every energy of his fine, cultivated mind towards inspiring all
with whom  he comes in contact with the same oneness of purpose, the same gentleness of spirit, and the same Christian integrity which animate his own upright heart."
"You draw him with a flattering pencil!" sneered the hardware dealer. " But as I am not very largely gifted with faith in




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              411
aught but humbug, you must excuse mre from believing in the
accuracy of the likeness!"
"Are there any others here," inquired Samuel, appealing to
the assemblage, " who are acquainted with Mr. Fenton'"
There was no reply. After a brief pause, the young Christian
resumed.
"Solemnly, then," he said, with an impressive gesture, "I
aver, in the absence of all other witnesses, that I have known Mr.
Fenton for two years and upward; that I have heard him preach
many times, and always found him a faithful deliverer of The
Message; that I have experienced much joy, comfort, and encouragement from his sermons; that I have conversed with him
privately concerning the enterprises of our Prince, and always
found him earnest, anxious, and affectionate; that I have seen
him, when his best friends knew of it not, in the haunts of the
poor, doing good as it were by stealth, giving advice with a liberal
heart, money with a generous hand; that I have seen him, on
many a pitiless night, and at hours when most men were partaking of refreshing rest, making his way, through stormy rain and
sleet, to chambers in which you, sir, and most of this assembly,
would unwillingly set foot, and pleading there, with all the might
of his great mind, and greater heart, for mercy for departing
outcasts; that I have known him to forgive and pray for men
who have slandered and worked him injury; that I have known
him to privately help many in their need, to give kind counsel
to others, who wanted counsel only, and to sustain several
while they were waiting for their little capitals-which were
furnished by himself-to turn; that I have known of many
whom he has persuaded from the path of crime; of many whom
he has gently led from wretchedness to comfort, and from the
darkness of sin to the irradiancy of Light. All this do I know,
and to all this do I bear glad testimony: before Him, who knoweth it already-before you, who, not knowing it, have done one




412      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR TlHE LEFT.
of the truest servants of my Prince a grievous and ungenerous
wrong!"
A murmur of satisfaction rose from  the assembly. Public
opinion was setting in fast against the hardware dealer, who felt
the ground gliding away from under him, and determined to
make a last grand effort to sustain himself.
" Do you mean to say," he demanded, " that all of our clergymen are faithful?"
"As a BODY, yes; in every individual case, no: here and there
a false one, like an occasional traitor in an army; but the
instances are rare-rarer than you dream; and so rare, that even
you, sir, upon a candid examination of the subject, would be
amazed at the exceeding smallness of their number."
"If that be so, why don't they accomplish more good?"
" They do accomplish great good; more than you think."
"I'd like to see the evidence of it," sneered the hardware
dealer.
"The evidence is all around us, sir. In the advancement of
men in general uprightness; in the markedly improved tone of
our country and the age; in the rapid march of morality in
literature,-which has, of late years, turned a complete summerset, the better now taking the lead of harmful books, which formerly swept the field; in the public Press-which, with rare
exceptions, are on the side of Truth and Right-few or no journals gaining grouid in circulation save those whose columns bear
witness of the progressive spirit of their conductors; in Legislation, which no longer laughs with impunity at the moral measures demanded by the moral voice of the people; in Politics,
whose day for obtaining vast majorities, by pandering to the
mere passions of the multitude, is over-those politicians only
ascending hig}, in the atmosphere of public sentiment and support who are enlisted, professedly, at least, under the elevating




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                413
banner of reform; in Society, which is no longer openly arrayed
on the side of vice-the card-table having disappeared from the
drawing-room, the rum-bottle from the sideboard, slang, infidelity, impure song, and ribald music, from social gatherings-those
only finding admission into refined circles who display at least
an appearance of religiousness, those openly against religion
being excluded, and confined to intercourse with their own kind.
These are the broad results of the labors of that noble army
of energetic, self-sacrificing imen, whom you so ungenerously
reproach!"
"Self-sacrificing!" repeated the hardware dealer, ironically.
"Let me see: Mr. Engold obtains four thousand a year, and the
perquisites; Mr. Gadsden four thousand a year, and the perquisites; Mr. Fenton, four thousand a year, and the perquisites.
Very self-sacrificing-indeed!"
" A single word, sir," returned Samuel; " and let it be a frank
one, as you are a gentleman! You are a merchant, that is to
say, a business man, with a fair yearly income, which is derived
wholly from your commercial knowledge and labors. You earn
over four thousand per annum-do you not 2"
"I should hope so, Mr. Leland!" laughed the hardware dealer,
who, it was well known, had an establishment which netted him
from twenty to thirty thousand'a year.
"You will not deny that the clergymen just named are your
equals in intelligence?"
"Of course not."
"You will admit that their respective chances in trade would
be as favorable, at least, as your own 2"
"Certainly."
"That, with their mental abilities, they could clear from ten
to twelve thousand a year?"
"I admit that, too, sir."




414      WEicH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"And yet you think there is- no self-renunciation in these men
when they voluntarily relinquish all hope of fortune, and take up
a profession whose highest earthly reward is scarcely equal to
one-third of what they might earn in commerce 2"
The hardware dealer looked down, thoughtfully.
"More, sir. A merchant can garner up some portion of his
income. But what can a clergyman save? You expect him to
live in a style corresponding with his position as the pastor of a
wealthy congregation. To have influence with them, he must
live so. How far will his paltry income enable him to do that,
and accumulate anything?   What, then, remains to him, after
five, ten, or twenty years of labor-his position not permitting
him to husband aught while in service? Poverty i"
The hardware dealer was dumb.
" Let us not be so uncharitable," said Samuel.  " Where one
clergyman of high talents, learning, and piety, receives four thousand per annum, a thousand others, equally as devoted, learned,
talented, and pious, do not obtain eight hundred. Nay, the average income of clergymen throughout the Union is but a fraction
over three hundred dollars. Why, sir, our poorest laborers are
paid better than they! And yet you brand them, in effect, as
mere fortune-hunters!. What would you say, if I should tell
you that large numbers of clergymen are compelled to preach
and earn their living, in other ways, into the bargain?"
"A rare case, I apprehend!"
"On the contrary, sir, it is the case with thousands! Look
you, Mr. Griscom. While a small proportion of that noble profession receive a thousand dollars per year, the generality of them
scarcely obtain a bare living. A clergyman's ability to pay for
a new suit of clothes without feeling it for months afterwards, is
the exception-the reverse the rule. After a long life of faithful
service, that one is fortunate who can leave behind him enough
of his own savings-let him have pinched ever so hard-to pay




WHICHi: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              415
for his own funeral! And yet you impugn the motives of men
who devote the best twenty, thirty, or forty years of their lives
to the great cause of their Redeemer! Mr. Griscom, I blush for
you!"
"Nay, Mr. Leland," said the hardware dealer, "you are too
hasty. I was not aware of all this."
" And yet you-a business man!-have formed and expressed
an unflattering opinion upon the highest of all human professions,
without making the slightest examination of its details; have
borne oracular testimony against it and its members; have vilified it and them, without knowing so much of either as the merest
tyro in the world's affairs could tell you in half an hour! Mr.
Griscom' —Mr. Griscom!"
"I yield, I yield, Mr. Leland," said the hardware dealer,
rising, " and thank you for the lesson which you have read me.
There is my hand, sir; and," he added, with feeling, "I give you
my word as a man and a gentleman, that I have uttered my last
slander against the pulpit."
"0 sir, you make me happy to hear that. For of all toilers
along life's pathway, none more deserve our confidence, our
respect, and our affection, than the workmen of The Cross: for
they come to us as no others come-in our Redeemer's name;
they labor as none others labor-fighting the battles of their
Master as never fought soldiers in anylesser cause. Their work, to
save men, not destroy them; to bring them happiness, not woe;
content, whether carrying The Message to the civilized hordes
of cities, to the untutored red men of the American forest, the
savages of Patagonia, the bushmen of New Zealand, the mountaineers in the frosty Caucasus, the wild idolaters of Eastern Ind, or
the dark sons of burning Africa, with the simplest pittance;
struggling manfullyand bravely for men and their Redeemer, all
the way-and when they come to lay them down at last, thanking
God, with grateful hearts, for kindly having permitted them to do




416       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
battle a few years for their dear Prince, and to die with their
harness on in His service!"
"Enough, sir," said Mr. Griscom, frankly.  "I see my error,
and freely acknowledge it. Had I been aware of those facts
before, I should have avoided many very silly blunders.  In
future, I'll do better. In the meanwhile, Mr. Leland, set down
Tom Griscom among your friends!"
" 0, sir, you make me very happy. All men who are friends
to my Prince, are friends to me!"
" You are a MAN, sir," said the hardware dealer, pressing his
hand with much warmth;'" and as ain are few, I am proud to
make your acquaintance."  Then turning to the company and
presenting Samuel to them, he added: " Ladies and gentlemen,
my friend. You would all do well to make him yours!"
Miriam's eyes sparkled with joy; those of the Townsends with
pride; Mr. Crittenden's with enthusiasm; Isabella's with triumph; Charley Gibbs' and his intended's, with satisfaction; Mr.
Brigham's with malignant envy.
Meanwhile the general assemblage, male and female, were
crowding around the young Christian, shaking him by the hand,
and vying with each other to attract his attention.
Half an hour later the party broke up, and the curtain dropped upon Mr. Crittenden's last exhibition of his gallery of living
portraits.




CHAPTER XXV.
THE following day was a sad one at Enfield.
" I don't know what to make of Joe," observed Aunt Betsy
to Mrs. Leland, as they were sewing in the kitchen. "The deal
little creeter has got the dismals, the wust kind.  Some'n is
going to happen, sure as you live!"
" Why do you think so, Betsy?" asked her mistress.
"Because I'm sure on't.  Aint Joe a reg'lar barometer whenever danger threatens any of his blood?  He's such a sensitive
creeter, that if anybody says or meditates aught agin any of
us, Joe feels it in an instant. Aint it allers bin so?"
Mrs. Leland made no reply. She was reflecting with an uneasy air.
" All families have got their barometers," continued the housekeeper, running her needle with amazing rapidity, and looking
around to see if a speck of dirt was visible anywhere.  " I
never knowed one that hadn't. They aint all aware of it, though,
because every one isn't pertic'lar in observing such things; but
I know it to be true,'cause I've noticed it. There's the Debevois family: don't they allers know when trouble's coming
along to them, through their daughter Jane, the poor sensitive
creeter, who, if she is an old maid, is one of the gentlest-hearted
souls in town?.  Then there's Martha Brundage; don't she
have a presentiment whenever anything's about to happen to any
of her folks'? And don't her presentiments invariably come
true?  My brother Tom —a poor, delikit, nervous lad-was the
barometer of our family.  For a week afore father died, Tom
had a sing'lar idee that some'n was going to occur to one of his
18* (417)




418      WHIncH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
race, and so it turned out. Another time, afore I was a widder,
Tom was troubled with the frights for three days, and then the
fust thing we knew, news came tumbling along that my dead
and gone husband, Frank Disosway, had been killed. And now
here's Joe a-sighing and grieving through his pipe, with his warnings, for more'n a week. Some'n's going to happen, sure's we
live!"
Mrs. Leland and her husband, ever alive to the least change
in the pipe of their little one, had also observed the melancholy
turn in the old familiar tune. But they had purposely refrained
from referring to it in his hearing, as they knew by experience
that such remarks always had the effect of intensifying the
gloominess of the little minstrel's spirit, and consequently of his
pipe.
"But to whom?" asked Mrs. Leland, anxiously.  "Pa is at
home, and well; we are all at home, and well; Samuel's letter
of Saturday represented that everything was well as usual with
him, and that he had every reason for believing that he was in good
standing with Our Prince!"
" All that is very true," returned Aunt Betsy.  "But still I
have my fears, and I can't get rid on'em!"
" Fears of what, Betsy." asked the pastor, who had just
entered the kitchen.
" That some'n's going to happen to the family," returned the
housekeeper.
An air of mournfulness crept over the mild, tranquil features
of the clergyman.
"Here's the old tune," continued Aunt Betsy, stitching away
as if for dear life, "which, for a long time, has bin telling of
nothing but roses, posies, sunny fields, bright clouds, and
cheerful things gen'rally, is gone off all of a sudden into the
most melancholy glooms and thickets, where the grass and moss
are allers dark, and where the sun never shines; and what is




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               419
wuss, it keeps growing sorrowfuller and sorrowfuller every
day!"
"Don't speak so loud, dear Betsy, "'said the pastor, gently,
"or the poor boy will overhear you!"
" I don't want to hurt your feelings," said the housekeeper, in
a lower tone, "but some'n's going to happen, or the old tune
would never go on so. Who knows but trouble's running up agin
Samuel 3"
" His usual weekly letter, which we received yesterday, tells
us that all goes well with him," said the pastor.
"Yes, I know," said Aunt Betsy, uneasily. " But I can't get
rid of the idee. Whenever the old tune goes off into the dismals, some'n allers does happen in the family. Don't you
remember how mournful it was in July, for two days afore
you run that big nail into your foot, out in the lot, which laid
you up for three weeks 3"
" True, Betsy," answered Mrs. Leland. "But what then."
"Just this," answered the housekeeper.  "Some'n wuss'n
that is coining to some on us now, or Joe wouldn't a had such a
long spell of the dismals. It's a warning of some'n-I feel it in
my bones, and I couldn't get rid of it if I should struggle agin it
ever so hard. Just hear," she continued, in a still lower voice,
"how the poor child is going on now with his pipe, in the
parlor. Isn't it enough to make one cry 2" she added, by way of
apologizing for the agitation of her voice and the humidness of
her eyes.
Mrs. Leland rose up, in much distress, and quitted the kitchen.
" There she goes," said Aunt Betsy, "to soothe the dear little
creeter. But it will be of no use. Joe will be as miserable as
can be till the thing-whatever it may be-happens, and then
he'll be sick. It's allers the way with him! Where are you
going, sir?"
" To the post-office," answered the pastor.




420      WHICeH: THE! RIGHT, OR TiE LEFT.
"With a letter to Samuel?" asked the housekeeper, hopefully.
"To him," was the reply, in an uneven voice.
And the clergyman passed with a disturbed step from the
parsonage.
" Gentle heart!" mused the housekeeper, following his retreating form with her eyes.  "No woman's was eyer more feeling
and tender!" Then laying by her sewing, she followed her
mistress, murmuring, "If anything has worked agin Samuel,
we'll know all about it in a few days."
But neither the maternal tenderness of Mrs. Leland, the kindliness of the housekeeper, the gentle soothing of the pastor, nor
the coaxing of Ada-the adopted one-had any influence upon
the sad heart of the little minstrel. The pipe was still in trouble,
still in sorrow-the tune was still a Foreboding, still a Fear, whose
great terror increased with each succeeding hour, until the old
entry clock struck three, when the tune suddenly shot up, into a
loud, piercing wail, and then broke short off and was dumb-as
if it were some poor human thing, whose heart-strings had snapped and parted, to unite again no more.
At the same moment, the little minstrel himself gasped out a
single word, which resembled a moan more than a word, and
fell fiom his chair in convulsions.
"' SAMUEL!"
Ah! then there was woe in the parsonage.
They raised their blind boy up; they bathed him with cold
water and hot; they rubbed him with oils, with towels and
liniment; they called in the doctor, who powdered and bled him;
and they restarted his blood, which had stood still for a time.
They put him to bed, softly and tenderly; they watched and
sighed over him prayerfully, tearfully; and joy came back to
them, for life had returned to him, on the fifth day.
Then, with grateful hearts, for they had done their parts, the
parents laid them down to rest for the first time; but still beset




WHICeH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             421
with anxious fears, for one from whom they had not heard, and
who was in some danger, out there, in the world.
They woke up in the morning, pale and unrefreshed.
The father looked into the mother's eyes; the mother looked into
the father's eyes; and then both looked into the sightless eyes
of their little one on the bed. In those blue blind orbs they read,
plain as letters in a book, this one word:
" SAMUEL!
On their eyes it fell, like the ringing of a midnight bell-warningly.
The minstrel's brow was pale; but on it, in imploring characters, which neither father nor mother could resist, was this
sentence:
"' Go to him-to Samuel!"
All night, they sighed and wept; all night, they moaned and
prayed-the father and the mother, the housekeeper and the
brother-the little adopted one sleeping the while.
But with the earliest dawn, there were hurrying and bustling,
trembling and embracing, adieux spoken and repeated, and at
length for the last time.
Then a wagon at the door.
Then a rattling of wheels-a dashing down the road-a word
of hasty parting at the cars.
Then, in a poor preacher's heart, bubbled a thousand anxious
hopes and fears —in his eyes and on his cheeks, rippled, in sad
and silent streaks, the lava of a suffering mind, whose thoughts
were gentle for all his kind-Dread's hot, unconscious tears.
Then, a whirling, roaring flight of cars, and of time.
Then, weary in heart and brain, and worn and heavy in limb,
a stranger, of a noble air, sank on his knees in fervent prayer,
in a chamber fresh and fair, as night was setting in.




CH II APTER XXVI.
THE clergyman rose from his prayer, refreshed. Then making
his toilet, and walking down his agitation, he descended from his
room, and, supper having long been over, ordered a meal to be
prepared with dispatch. The request was tardily, but at length
complied with, and having recruited his exhausted frame, the
anxious-hearted father set out, on foot, for Fifteenth street.
On reaching the Townsends', he observed a number of carriages drawn up in front of the house; the windows were a-blaze
with light; music and dancing were going on within.
The clergyman rang the bell, which was immediately responded to by a porter in livery.
"I desire to see Mr. Leland," said the pastor, in an agitated
voice.
" He isn't here any more," returned the porter; 1" he went away
a fortnight ago."
"Stay, sir," said the clergyman with dignity, as the man was
about to close the door.
"Well?" said the lackey, with an impudent leer.
"I wish to see Mr. Townsend."
"Then you must call some other time. We're busy now,
with a wedding, and can't be disturbed!" answered the fellow,
disappearing behind the portal.
A flush of indignation rose from the clergyman's breast, and
swept up to his temples. He drove it back, however, and
having completely mastered his temper, he again rang the bell.
" Hullo!" cried the porter, reopening the door just enough to




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              423
allow his hand to protrude, "you here again, old gentleman?
Be off, now, or we'll hand you over to a policeman!"
" Call your employer, sir," said the clergyman, "or I'll do it
for you!"
"You will, will you, old gentleman?  That's very good in
you! But as we're very busy, you will have a nice time in seeing
him-I don't think!"
"Have you no shame, sir'l?" said the clergyman, indignantly.
"There-there," said the flunkey, " run along, old gen'leman
-run along. We can't be bothered with you all night!"
And the door was closed again.
And the bell was pulled again.
On this occasion, however, without any response from the
porter.
After waiting a reasonable time, the clergyman repeated the
ring; but meeting with no notice, he pulled it again, and with an
energy which brought the porter out in an instant.
"Now, go away," he said, laying his hand roughly upon the
visitor, "or I'll compel you!"
The clergyman made no verbal reply; but quietly disengaging himself fromn the flunkey's grasp, he brushed him aside, and
passed through the open door with a calm dignity, which was the
more impressive for the ease with which it was performed.
The porter could scarcely credit his senses; but by the time he
had persuaded himself that the incident was not all a dream, the
clergyman was in the presence of Mr. Townsend, who had been
summoned from the drawing-room by one of the attendants in
the hall.
"Be good enough to call to-morrow," said the merchant,
blandly, on learning the clergyman's business, " and I will give
you all the particulars of your son's sad affair. But just now,
we are so busy, that, really —"
"I am a father, Mr. Townsend," said the clergyman, impres



424     WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
sively, "and have a night of agony before me! Two words —
but two; they will not detain you as many minutes."
" Well, Mr. Leland?" said the merchant, drawing himself up.
" What is the nature of this' sad affair' of which you speak,
Mr. Townsend? I judge, from your manner, that you deem my
son culpable, in some way. You will please forgive my warmth,
if I appear warm, which is far from my design. But I am a
father, sir-and-and," he added, in a broken voice, "there are
bleeding hearts at home, sir, and-and one in my breast, too.
Of what-" he paused, tremblingly, and then continued, with an
effort —" with what is my boy-my poor, dear boy, my Samuel!
-charged?"
"With theft," answered the merchant. "The money was
found upon his person. Now, sir-go!"
The clergyman stood as if transfixed. The light that fell
upon his features from the gas-burners in the hall revealed a
countenance of rare manly beauty, but clothed with so sickly a
paleness that it might well have been taken for that of a corse.
"Come, come," said' the merchant stiffly, "no scenes here.
This is my eldest ward's wedding night, and I can't have any disturbance. Call some other time, and I'll give you any explanation you may desire. But at present, I cannot be annoyed."
" Stay, Mr. Townsend," gasped his visitor, with an effort, as
the merchant was moving off; " one word. My son-my Samuel.
Where is he?"
"I know nothing of him, sir. He has disappeared!"
Anrd the merchant returned to the drawing-room.
The clergymanireeled from the house, and pursued his way,
in a state of bewilderment, to his hotel, when, clambering to his
chamber, he fell upon his bed-stunned.
How he spent the night —in what agony of heart and torture
in mind, we shall not attempt to describe.
At tel o'clock, the following morning, he proceeded to the




WVHICH: THE  RIGHT, OR THE  LEFT.             42X5
store, in Liberty street. The clerks stared at him as he threaded
his way, through the sinuous counter-passages, towards the
platform. They fancied, for a few moments, so strange was his
featural likeness to that of his son, that it was Samuel himself
suddenly transformed into mature age.
The clergyman passed into the office, and beheld Mr. Townsend conversing with a gentleman whom he recognized at once as
Mr. Crittenden.
Mr. Townsend colored as the visitor entered, and waved him,
with formal politeness, to a chair.
"Mr. Leland, of Enfield, I presume." said Mr. Crittenden,
courteously extending his hand to the clergyman.
"Yes, sir," answered the latter, with an air of mournful dignity.  "I have not called to take up your time, gentlemen; but
to learn the cause of some ungenerous remarks which Mr.
Townsend took the liberty, last night, of casting upon the character of my son."
That gentleman caught up his hat, and saying to his partner,
"I'll take a run up to the bank," slipped out of the office, muttering, "A simple old fool! Does he think I feel any interest in his
affairs 2."
And yet Mr. Townsend was ashamed of his ungentlemanly
conduct on both occasions; and, before he reached the street,
would have given a few dollars if he had had sufficient manliness
to say so. Had the visitor been a dealer, now, instead of a
clergyman, he felt that he could have apologized for his low rudeness without any difficulty: "' Because," thought the man of business, "a merchant experiences no mortification in making a thousand explanations, if necessary, to conciliate a-customer!"
Mr. Crittenden perceiving that the clergyman comprehended,
in its true light, the character of the business which called the
retiring member of the firm so suddenly to " the bank," observed,
smilingly



426      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
" I hope, Mr. Leland, you will excuse my friend's flight; but
the fact is, he is so vexed at his shabby treatment of you at his
house, that he has not courage to look you in the eye."
"No apology is asked for, Mr. Crittenden," said the clergyman. "I had forgiven him ere I reached my hotel."
"How is it you recognize me so readily?" asked the silent
partner.
"From my son's letters. And now, sir, if you please, remember that I am the father of the man whom  Mr. Townsend
charges with-" he paused, with emotion, and then added, " with
theft!"
Mr. Crittenden's brow became grave.
"Listen," he said.
"Go on, sir," returned the clergyman, whose voice, manner,
and restlessness indicated that he was sitting upon thorns.
"Mr. Leland," began Mr. Crittenden, " I have a sad story to
tell you; one which, as I perceive by your manner, you are
utterly ignorant of!"
"A sad story concerning my son!" cried the clergyman, turning pale. "But I am interrupting you. Excuse me: I am a
father, and have a father's feelings. Go on, sir."
But Mr. Crittenden had not the heart. The misery of the simple-hearted clergyman unmanned him. He rose, took a glass of
water, and after pacing the office a few moments, he resumed
his seat, and commenced again.
" For some weeks-indeed, I may say months-prior to the
twenty-first of last month, when Samuel left us," he said, with
an air of pain, " the money-drawer of Mr. Townsend, who, by
mail remittances and customers coming in to settle up their
accounts, receives, daily, large amounts of cash, had, from time
to time, been rifled of numerous sums, varying from twenty to
sixty dollars. The aggregate of these robberies was not very




WHEIIC: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               427
large, but, as you will readily comprehend, it was important to
put a check to them at the earliest possible moment."
"And my boy —my Samuel," cried the clergyman, indignantly, " was suspected of this peculation!"
"Pray, pardon me," said Mr. Crittenden, "1 said not that."
"But you meant it, Mr. Crittenden-you, who should have
known my son better! I can overlook a suspicion of such a
nature in an organization like that of Mr. Townsend.  But with
you, sir, it is another affair. You are a deep student in the book
of human nature; you can read a man's character fiom a glance
at his face, from the intonations of his voice, from his step, from
his individual air, and from his utterance of a single sentence.
With all this vast talent, you are an honorable man —not from
policy alone, but from a higher motive: Principle. How, then,
sir, could you-a man, with a man's heart; and a man's judgment-reconcile it with your conscience to heap so gross an injustice upon my pure, my high-minded boy!"
"You are condemning me unheard, Mr. Leland," said the
silent partner.
" Nay, forgive me, Mr. Crittenden, if I have spoken unjustly,"
returned the, clergyman.  "I am a father-a man-an humble
servant of my Prince, and-and my poor boy-my Samuel,
whom I have known and loved from his earliest infancy-whose
Chriistian deportment. all his days, has been to me a source of
joy, and hope. and pride-who has taught me, his father, to love
him more for his own sweetnees than for his relations to me as
my son-is in affliction, and my heart is grieved."'I feel for you, sir," said Mr. Crittenden, with emotion, " and
I sympathize with you. Believe it!'
"I do," returned the clergyman.  "But you must bear with
me. I am an old man, sore beset with suffering in mind and
body, and have known but little food or slumber for many days.
Be brief, therefore, and let me know the worst."




428       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Listen, sir," said Mr. Crittenden.  "The robberies of which
I have spoken gave Mr. Townsend and myself so much uneasiness, that we concluded, after a consultation with our confidential clerk-but you are ill, sir!" he said, stopping abruptly.
"A  shudder crept over me at the allusion to Mr. Brigham,
such a feeling as I sometimes feel when in the, presence of an
enemy —that is all, sir," returned the clergyman.
"You appear to know Mr. Brigham?"
"I have had a weekly letter from my son ever since he left
home," said the clergyman, explanatively.
"Ah! that accounts for it," remarked Mr. Crittenden.  "But,
as I was saying, we concluded, after a consultation with our confidential clerk, to lay a plan for detecting the guilty party. For
this purpose, Mr. Townsend, for three or four weeks previous to
the twenty-first, made a private mark upon all bills which came
into his hands, and placing the money, as usual, in his drawer,
quietly awaited the result. The first week passed away without
any new theft. On Wednesday of the second, thirty dollars
were missed; but without remark. Friday of the third, thirtyfive dollars disappeared. Tuesday, of the fourth, twenty-eight
dollars were taken. The money was counted at one o'clock; at
two the abstraction was discovered. In half an hour, measures
were taken to detect the culprit. Every clerk in the establishrnent was summoned into the office, the door of which was fastened, and the case laid before them. All demanded and acquiesced in the propriety of an immediate search —Mr. Brigham
acting as searcher of the first half, Mr. Townsend of the second.
You can imagine the interest and excitement of the examination.
Mr. Brigham's part was unsuccessful; and then Mr. Townsend
commenced.  One after another of his eight were searched, but
without alighting upon the culprit. Mr. Brigham and Samuel
alone remained, both of whom requested to be examined, like
their mates. Mr. Townsend declined-no suspicion being upon




WHICH: THE RlIGHT, ORi THE ]LEFT.           4-29
them; but Mr. Brigham insisting, he was thoroughly searched —
but without result.  The desk, together with every article in his
office, was ransacked, his very coat upon the wall, his hat, chair,
the cushion of which latter was ripped open and thoroughly dissected, but without avail. At length, Samuel's turn came; and
— but I fear to pain you!"
"Go on, sir," said the clergyman, hoarsely. "I am trembling,
you see; but not with fear of any guilt on the part. of my pure,
high-minded boy. I have had but little food or sleep for many
days; and 1 am weak-weak, sir: that is all!" he added, in a
voice that would have moved a stone.
Mr. Crittenden was himself agitated, and could articulate only
with difficulty.
"In fine, Mr. Leland," he said, falteringly, "the missing twentyeight dollars were found-"
"Not upon Samuel!" moaned the clergyman, blanching with
mingled indignation and horror. " Not upon my son —not upon
my bright hope-my poor, poor boy! 0, no-not upon himnot upon Samuel!"
" In his vest pocket!" said Mr. Crittenden, in a broken voice.
"It was in bills and gold-the former wrapped around the latter.
The clergyman, his face livid as death, surveyed the silent
partner, with a proud, indignant eye.
"Nor was this all," said Mr. Crittenden, sorrowfully.  "In
the right corner of his coat, between the lining and the cloth, was
found another roll of bills, with, as in the first instance, a tendollar gold piece in the centre, to make the whole sink
down!"
The clergyman surveyed him as before, but without making
any attempt to reply. He was pale and speechless. Had ho
been the marble thing he looked, he could not have been more
dumb or motionless.
Mr. Crittenden pitied him; and would have refrained from




430        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
saying any more, but there was that in his auditor's eye which
said-" Go on!" and he proceeded.
" The clerks were amazed. Had the money been found upon
themselves, they could not have evinced more affright. Mr.
Townsend and myself were paralyzed. As to Samuel, he staggered like a drunken man towards the partition, and would have
fallen, but for Mr. Brigham. At that moment, the clock struck
three. You are shuddering again, Mr. Leland!"
The clergyman was thinking of the wail of the old tune, and
the convulsions of his poor blind boy, at that eventful hour in his
first-born's career.
"Go on, sir!" he said, or rather moaned, in a feeble voice.
"Let me know all."
"I have but little more to tell," replied Mr. Crittenden, with
a sigh.  "The money was found upon him-not all, nor yet the
half of what had been stolen; but yet enough to brand him,
among the unthinking, as the pilferer of the whole, and consequently-his religious pretensions considtred-as a vile, deceitful man. The other clerks crept out of the office with an air of
mingled loathing and surprise-hissing him as they left, and
muttering,' This accounts for his enlarged benevolence,''Splendid hypocrite,' I Matchless rascal,' et cetera, to none of which did
Samuel reply: but seating himself, pale and gasping, in a chair,
he clasped his head with his hands, as if he feared that it would
burst. Mr. Brigham, who was the last to remain, was the only
one who regarded him with any show of compassion. He tendered the unhappy young man a glass of water, but it was
declined. Then, with an aspect of real sorrow, he, too, retired,
and Mr. Townsend, Samuel, and myself were the sole occupants
of the office.'"
"And then, sir —" moaned the clergyman.
"Mr. Townsend looked at Samuel for a minute or so, as if
undecided what to think, say, or do, and then snatching up his




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               431
hat, he drew a long, fretful breath, and went home to dinner."
"And my boy-my poor victimized boy —"
"Remained in his chair, his hands pressing his temples, and
his eyes staring at the floor like one mad, or stunned-or both.
I spoke to him; but he answered not. I touched him gently on
the shoulders; but he heeded it not. I then left him, and pretended
to occupy myself with writing, in hope that he would eventually
look up and notice me; but all to no purpose. At length, I
went to dinner; and was gone an hour. On my return, I found
him as I had left him-in the same attitude in the chair, his hands
still pressing his wildly-throbbing temples, his eyes still staring
at the floor; and his fellow-clerks standing around, and jeering
him at the door. They fled at my approach, but still, from their
departments, watched us both with eager gaze, pointing him out
at times to their customers with all the scorn and indignation of
honest men! I drew down the blind, to shut off their impertinent eyes, and spoke to him for a good long hour, but without
eliciting a remark-nay, not so  luch as a word —in response.
It was, for all the good it did, like talking to a block, a statue, or
a stone. For he gave not a single sign that he either heard me,
or was aware of my presence.  Dusk came-the closing hour;
yet still he sat there, motionless and tongueless as ever, in the
chair, and staring, as before, at the same spot on the floor. At
length I shook him. He awoke from his spell, surveyed me
a while with a cold, half-absent eye, caught up his hat, and, still
without a word, passed mechanically from the office and the
store, and then home, where he arrived just in time for tea.
The meal was dispatched in silence, and then all rose and proceeded to the drawing-room-Samuel following them more like
a dead thing than a man. No one to spoke to him, he spoke to
none; but his eyes wandered from one to another, to see if he
had yet a single friend there, to read whether all believed him




432      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
guilty. It was a nervous and an unpleasant hour. Mr. Brigham
was announced. He bowed to all but Samuel, whom he regarded
as a stranger. Miss Landon received the confidential clerk with
unusual graciousness and favor; smiling upon him, coquetting
with him, caressing him, and toying with him, as if she had never
thought of any other man in the world. You will understand
this the better, Mr. Leland, when I tell you that, almost from
the first day of Samuel's arrival in the house, Miss Landon had
exerted all the resources of her worldly mind to captivate him,
without, however, so far as I know, making the slightest impression upon his heart."
"I inferred as much from my poor boy's letters,"' observed
the clergyman.
" At length the clock struck eight," continued Mr. Crittenden.
"Thus far, not a word had been addressed to Samuel-the
Townsends not even deigning to notice him; (the clergyman's
brow darkened mournfully,) Mr. Brigham glancing at him, now
and then, with an air which said,'Who is this fellow;' Miss
Landon turning her back to him; Miss Selden, alone, evincing,
by an occasional stolen look, that she was still friendly to him,
still had confidence in him, and still believed him to be as noble,
pure, and worthy as ever. (The shadow upon the preacher's
forehead passed away, and was succeeded by a play of grateful
light.) The poor girl would have told him so, and would have
endeavored to chase away the agony of his heart, but was deterred by a secret fear that he might misjudge her motive, and deem
her over bold."
"Therein," said the clergyman, with emotion, " do I recognize
the modest, retiring spirit whom my boy has, in his letters,
described to me so often."
"You but do my fair friend justice," remarked Mr. Crittenden.
" Miss Selden is one in ten thousand; that is to say, in the form
of a woman, she has all the attributes of an angel."




WHICH: TIHE RIGHT, OR THE L-Ei T.            433
"I have long believed that," said the clergyman, " without
ever having seen her."
Mr. Crittenden's eyes sparkled —why, the clergyman did not
comprehend.
"At length," he repeated, o" the clock struck eight. With its
last stroke, Samuel rose to depart. The movement, although
understood by all, was apparently heeded by none, save Miriam,
who, not wishing that he should go away with an impression that
he was whoily friendless, broke through all restraint, and springing towards him, exclaimed, in a tone which drew all eyes upon
her-' Mr. Leland! though all the world believe you guilty, I do
not-I will not! In my mind, you are still upright, still true,
still loyal to Our Prince. And I shall pray to Him to-night, and
to-morrow night, too, and ever more, to have you in His keeping, and to come up to your help in this great trouble!' Samuel
pressed her hand convulsively, and with a light bow to all in the
apartment, silently withdrew-for, as they intuitively felt, the
last time. The Townsends suppressed, although not without difficulty, their emotion, as they beheld him retire. But what else
could be looked for in persons who live mainly for the world!
Should the time come, as I firmly believe it will, when this
mystery shall be cleared up, my partner and his lady would be
among the first to congratulate and take him by the hand."
"' Doubtless," said the clergyman, charitably.  "In any event,
let us hope so. But Miss Landon i"
"Miss Landon," said Mr. Crittenden, "is a very different personage. She follows where the world leads. Whom society
scouts, she scouts; whom society favors, she favors. From the
moment that the cloud set over Samuel, she turned from him,
as she would return to him, once the cloud should be succeeded
by the sun. Her smiles and countenance are only for the
Acknowledged; she has no sympathy for the Unacknowledged,
let them be never so deserving. On that evening, Mr. Brig19




434      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
ham's star was in the ascendant, and, seeing that Samuel's was
apparently extinguished forever, she-more to evince that she had
never really thought much of'that young man,' than anything else
-smilingly assented to the confidential clerk's vigorously pressed suit, and they were married yesterday. They had their
wedding last evening, and this morning they started South, by
way of Philadelphia, to spend their honeymoon, at the end of
which time, or I do much mistake, they will detest each other
like scorpions."
"But, my son 2"
"On leaving the drawing-room, Samuel ascended to his chamber, from which he presently returned with his trunk, and passing out into the street, looked about him for a cab; but finding
none, he shouldered the trunk, and, with agitated steps, moved
off. Since then, we have heard nothing of him, nor have wo
been able to obtain the slightest knowledge of his whereabouts.
I had myself, until this morning, supposed that he had returned
to Enfield."
The clergyman bowed his head, for a minute or two, in mingled thought and sadness.
" Your motive in seeking him out, Mr. Crittenden?" he asked,
at length.
The latter hesitated, but, after a few moments, replied"I am satisfied that Samuel is the victim  of some artifice;
and it occurred to me, a few days after his disappearance, that
he might perhaps be able to give me some suggestion which
would help me to the clue. I know not how he has represented
me in his letters; but I do solemnly affirm that if, during the
excitement of the twenty-first, I so far failed in my judgment
as to then consider him guilty, I have from that day believed
him as pure and high-minded as before."
" Samuel has always spoken very favorably of you, sir," said




WHICH: THE RIGHlT, OR THE LEFT.            435
the clergyman, rising; "and I rejoice to find that my impression harmonizes so happily with his."
And the two gentlemen shook hands warmly.
" I am very grateful to you, Mr. Crittenden, for your good
opinion of my boy in the face of these appearances," continued
the clergyman; "and rest assured your confidence in him will
be sustained, when this wicked scheme  shall be unfolded.
But your partner, sir-Mr. Townsend?"
"You must not think unkindly of him, sir," answered Mr.
Crittenden, gently.  "He is a man of facts; that which he sees,
he believes; that which he does not see, he has but little faith in!"
The clergyman's countenance became grave.
"The packing-room society?" he added.
"'Are divided in their opinions," replied the silent partner:
"although the majority are in his favor, and believe that the
proofs of his innocence will yet be clearly established."'H His late fellow-clerks."
" Are strongly inclined to hold him guiltless, and evince an
eager desire to trace the matter out."
1" Charley Gibbs?"
" O, Charley'don't know what to think!' His mental capacity is somewhat circumscribed.  He is a clever fellow, but
not very deep. We must not, therefore, expect too much of
Charley!"
A gloomy shade tinged the clergyman's forehead.
He pressed Mr. Crittenden's hand, and was about to depart,
when the latter exclaimed"One word, Mr. Leland. I am somewhat anxious concerning Samuel, and shall spare no efforts to discover whither he
has betaken himself.  Let us both work in this matter, and
see each other often. If you find him, be kind enough to let
me know; should I be the first to obtain information of his
abode, I will send you word without delay. Your address?"




436      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"The Irving House," answered the clergyman, pressing the
gentleman's hand gratefully. "IRoom No. Eighty-one. Adieu!"
"For a brief period only, I trust, Mr. Leland!" said Mr.
Crittenden, with affectionate warmth. "Allow me to see you
to the door."
The clerks stared at them as they passed through the store.
"Gentlemen," said Mr. Crittenden, addressing them, after the
clergyman's departure, "the individual whom you saw just
now is Samuel's father, and my friend. In future, you will
oblige me by bearing that fact in mind!"
The hint was too significant not to be understood.  There
was no impertinent staring at the clergyman after that!
Mr. Leland returned to his hotel with a bleeding heart, and
indited two letters-one to his wife, the other to the chairman
of the trustees of his church.  To both,'he gave a detailed
statement of the result of his visit to New York; and from
both he desired suggestions in reference to his own future
course, together with the assistance of their prayers. The missives created the profoundest excitement and indignation at
Enfield. The idea of Samuel's guilt was scouted at; and, at
a meeting in the church, it was unanimously decided, first, to
give their pastor a leave of absence for three months, in which
to find his son; secondly, to send him a thousand dollars, with
which to prosecute his search; thirdly, that the entire congregation should aid him with petitions to The Holy One; and
fourthly, that the thousand dollars should be forwarded to him
WITHOUT DELAY.
The third day brought back a letter from Mrs. Leland. Its
contents were brief, but stirring:"DEARLY BELOVED-Come not back without tidings of our
boy-of Samuel!"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              437
A tear rushed to the poor clergyman's eye, as he murmured"There spoke the heart of a true mother!"
On the fifth day, came the response of the trustees:
"' DEAR PASTOR-We sympathize with you in your. great
affliction.  But cheer up: Our King is merciful, Our Prince is
kind-and THIEY will be with you. Samuel is innocent, and HiE
will make it manifest. Find your boy, bring him back to us,
and we will cherish both him and you. We are praying for you
-our love, our affection, and our highest esteem are with you.
Take three months-more, if necessary. We send you a draft
for a thousand dollars to help you-should more be called fort
our hearts are ready, our purses open. Find Samuel!"
CHAPTER XXVII.
LOSE a piece of money in a wood, and —look for it. Lose a
boat on the broad Atlantic, and look for it. Lose a friend in a
crowd, and look for him. Lose a son in the human sea of New
York, and look for him!
Three months of weary walking, of weary inquiry, of weary
advertising, and-no Samuel yet!
Alas! poor gentleman!
What a sad thing to write to her whose gentle heart is yet
more gentle than thine own-to her whose eye is turned to thee
so imploringly for a single cheering word-to her whose every
letter back to thee has but a single line: Find him, find my
boy-my Samuel!
What a sad thing to write to those dear friends whose sympathies are with thee, whose prayers are with thee, whose hearts
are with thee and all of thine, and whose every weekly missive




438      WHIcH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
says to thee: Find him; spend our money like water, if necessary, but find hinl —find him!
What wonder, sir, if thy poor body grows thinner day by
day; what wonder if thy voice is weaker than it was a few
weeks agone; what wonder if thy step has lost a little of its
firmness; what wonder if the bald ring on thy crown gets every
week a little larger; that of the black and the white in thy hair,
the white grows daily the thicker, the black, daily, the thinner;
what wonder if thy cheeks are paling and wasting beneath the
streaming pressure of those burning tears which well up, nightly,
from thy great parental heart!
Alas! poor gentleman!
What a wild, fitful, surly knave is Winter! How he roars
and howls, and screams and kicks, and fumes and yelps, an]
snows and blows, the nearer he approaches to the milder face of
green and sunny Spring! And what a gallant, charming young
fellow is April!  How he smiles rude old Winter off; bowing
his ugly, treacherous henchman, March, out of sight, with an air
so full of irresistible assurance, that the grass comes laughing
out of the ground, the timid buds laugh open their blossoms, the
lambs frisk laughingly over the fields, the birds chirp laughingly
on the limbs of the trees, the air brisks up into a jolly laugh,
the sun laughs out from its nook in the sky, the earth laughs up
and calls to the plough to join in the fizn, the bees, and the ants,
and the worms laugh out in their great, broad hum, sick men
laugh into spirit and health, women laugh themselves out of
their houses into the streets, business laughs itself into activity:
and all nature looks jolly, and joins in the romp and the funll!
"lMirry, dear," said Mrs. Townsend, one morning, "let us go
out and take a walk. You are growing so thin of late, that I
begin to be alarmed for you. Come, put on your things. The
bracing air will put new life into you. Come!"
A few minutes, and the ladies were moving down Broadway




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE  LEFT.            439
with a lively step; for it was one of young April's most comical
days, and he was so full of rollicking mischief, that everybody
out caught a portion of his spirit, and felt like running, and
jumping, and racing, and laughing, and cutting all kinds of hoydenish capers. Old men felt young again, and hopped about
like gay urchins at tag; little boys, just escaped from the nursery, felt as big as full-grown men; old women felt as if they
had gone back to childhood, and skipped, and laughed, and frollicked, as if they believed it: and little girls felt as if they were
quite old enough to have company, and giggled away in great
glee, like a young miss anticipating the first visit of her first beau.
Mrs. Townsend and her niece, carried away by the bracing,
exhilarating atmosphere, walked down as far as the Park, and
then turned back, with the intention of calling on Mrs. Brigham,
on their way home.
As they passed Broome street, on their way up, Miriam
started, and laying her hand upon her companion's arm,
exclaimed, in a low, agonizing tone, " Aunt, dear aunt! who is
that approaching us?"
Mrs. Townsend looked in the direction indicated, and then,
with a countenance as livid as marble, seized her trembling
niece by the hand, and hurried her up an adjoining stoop, whispering" Be firm, my dear; and let us see where he is going!"
Coming down the street was a poor, human thing, whose
touching appearance arrested the attention of the passers-by,
and filled them with commiseration.
Clad in a suit of plain, scrupulously clean, yet threadbare
black, was a young man of some twenty-eight or twenty-nine
years, whom an evidently long and fearful illness had reduced to
a mere shadow. His pale, wan features, were mild, yet impressive. He carried over his left arm a carefully.folded overcoat,
which the pleasant warmth of the atmosphere had doubtless in



440      WHiICH:  TH.E RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
fluenced him to take off. He walked slowly, and with an air of
fatigue, assisted by a rude, green stick, which he had perhaps
picked up at the foot of some tree, on the wayside, and converted into a temporary cane. His boots, together with the extremities of his pantaloons, were dusty and soil-worn, giving evidence
that he had been on foot for some hours, and that his journey
had commenced in the suburbs: a fact which spoke eloquently
of the feebleness of his purse. He passed along without noticing aught around him, and turned into Broome street, down
which he moved, with the same feeble gait, in the direction of
Laurens street.
It was the missing one-Samuel!
"He is going to Mrs. Farley's, I think," observed Mrs. Townsend to her niece, whose heart was throbbing violently.  "But;
let us follow him, and see!'
Miriam made no reply, and they walked on, with their eyes
fixed upon the weary traveller.
Mrs. Townsend's conjecture proved to be correct.  Samuel
disappeared up the alley leading to the laundress's.'Now, my dear," said Mrs. Townsend, "let us at once to
Mr. Crittenden, and inform him of our discovery. Nay, love,
cheer up. Samuel is not so bad as he looks. His innocence
will yet be made clear, and-nay, don't tremble so; happiness
is not always so distant as we think. Cheer up!"
Samuel paused, faint and weary, at the foot of the stairs which
led to the apartments of his humble friend. While recovering
his breath and strength, the following hymn fell on his ear, sung
by a familiar voice, whose sad and occasionally quivering tones
disturbed the gentle spirit of the listener, whose forehead became
darkened with an air of sympathizing sorrow:"'One we loved has left our number
For the dark and silent tomb;




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               441
Closed his eyes in deathless slumberFaded in his early bloom:
Hear us, SaviourThou hast blessed the lonely tomb.
Through its dark and narrow portal
Once they bore Thee to thy rest;
There a ray of light immortal,
Like a sunbeam from the west,
Burst the shadowsAnd the grave thenceforth was blest.
By the light that thus was given
To the darkness of the tombBy the blessed light of heaven,
Gilding scenes of earthly gloomStar of gladness,
All our night with joy illume.
From our circle, little brother,
Early hast thou passed away;
But the angels say: Another
Joins our holy song to-day I
Weep no longerJoin with them the sacred lay'"'
"Poor heart, poor heart!" muttered Samuel, " I mourn with
you, and rejoice with him!"
He brushed away a tear, and slowly ascending the stairs,
tapped softly at the door. Mrs. Farley opened it, and started.
She was pale, and in mourning.
The young Christian's pale, wan face was clothed with a
cheering smile.
"How do you do, Mrs. Farley'" he said, extending his hand.
"Do you not know me?"
His voice-ah! how unlike to its full, manly tones a few short
months before!
19*.




442       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
" Why," cried the laundress, laughing and crying in the same
moment, "it is Samuel! Dear, dear-I'm  so glad to see you!
Sit down in the rocking-chair-it's got a cushion.  My dear,
dear brother-where have you been?  I've been so concerned
about you! Dear, dear-how  sad you look! Shake hands
again-once more! Dear, dear-I'm  so glad to see you!"
And the simple-hearted laundress wept and laughed by turns.
" I am very happy to see you, too, Mrs. Farley.  Will you be
kind enough to get me a drink? I am faint!"'" Shall I make you a cup of tea? It will revive you."
"Oh, no-some water will do. When did Robert go " he
asked, after a refreshing draught.
"Two months ago," faltered the widow. "He left a message
for you."
" Ah 2"
"Yes.'Mother,' he said,'tell Samuel that when I get Up
There, I am going to ask God and Jesus to let him come up
right away, too.'"
The young Christian shaded his face with his hand for a few
moments, and then inquired"His departure-was it easy."
"He closed his eyes with a smile, like an infant after its goodnight, and fell asleep. A little while, and we held a feather over
his lips, but it stirred not. He was gone!"
"Nay, sister-weep not. Rejoice rather; for blessed are they
who are early called! Your little one is now where rudeness
cannot harm, nor unkindness wound, him-in the bosom of
Our Prince!"
The laundress dried her tears, and looking at her visitor gratefully, said"Here you are consoling me, when you want yourself to be
consoled!"
" Nay-"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              443
" O don't tell me, Samuel. I am a woman, and can see it. You
are in need of nourishment. You are ill, fatigued, and fasting!"
"Oh, I'll be better soon," returned the young man, with modest diffidence. " I have walked a long way this morning; and as
I am not very strong, it naturally shows itself upon me."
"How far have you come?"
" From the foot of Sixty-first Street. They brought me over in
a boat from the Island, and as my means were very limited, I
thought I would husband the little that I had, and walk down.
Riding is expensive."
" What Island?" asked the laundress.
"Blackwell's."
"Why-you haven't been in the Penitentiary?" cried the
laundress, indignantly.'Who dared to outrage you in that
manner."
"No one, Mrs. Farley. You know there are other institutions
on the Island besides the one for criminals. The Asylum for the
Insane, for instance."
"And you have been there, all this time 2"
"Yes, Mrs. Farley. They discharged me this morning, at my
own request, partly because I was cured, and partly because I
desired to return at once to my friends."
" How much money have you got, Samuel 2"
"A dollar, only. They gave it to me, to take care of myself
with, until I should hear from my parents. And now," he added,
with a timid smile, " I want to ask a favor of you, Mrs. Farley."
" You mustn't ask any favors of me at all, Samuel," cried the
laundress.'" You are my brother, my guest, and my friend.
You have been good, a hundred times, to me, and I owe you
more than I ever can repay. If you want anything of me, ask
it freely-and not as a favor, but as a right."
"O, Mrs. Farley, you make me very happy. I knew, I felt,
that you would not turn against me, because you were one of us;




444      WnICH: THE RIGHT,  OR THE LEFT.
and that was what emboldened me to come here, instead of going
to the Mayor, who-so they told me at the Island-would let
me have money enough to take me up to Enfield."
"To Enfield?" said the laundress, ill surprise. "To Enfield,
in your condition! Why, Samuel," she added, with equal frankness and feeling, " you would never reach it-I mean, alive!"
"That was what I thought, too, Mrs. Farley," returned the
young man, with his usual diffidence; " and so I said to myself,' If I see Mrs. Farley, and tell her how I am situated, both in
regard to health and means, she will perhaps be kind enough
to let me stay at her house for a few days, until I get sufficiently
strong to be capable of enduring the journey home, and then I
shall be in a position to reward her amply for all her goodness.' "
"' Why, Samuel-how you talk! What are you running on
so for?" said the laundress, sobbing.
"I hope, }Mrs. Farley," said the young man, apologetically,
"that you will not think any harm  of me for what I have said.
It was not my intention to wound you. I did not conceive for a
moment, when proposing that course, that there would be any
impropriety in your receiving a poor, sick man, for a few days.
I might have thought so, but I didn't; the idea never occurred to
me. But I see it now, and I entreat you to forgive me."
"0 Samuel-how could you —"
"Nay, Mrs. Farley, don't cry; I didn't mean any harm. I
really didn't. Now, don't cry-don't; and I'll get up and go
away, right off!"
"Do sit still, Samuel," sobbed the laundress.  "It wasn't
that, at all!"
"You see, Mrs. Farley," continued her visitor, simply, " I am
a doomed man. A few weeks, or months, at furthest, and I
shall be with my Prince. I am ill; my body is wasting every
day; I am dying-I know it, feel it, and desire to go home and
see some hearts who are in suffering for me. But I am with



WEICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             445
out means in pocket and in health, and before I can go home I
must first have a little rest and nursing, to recruit my strengtha little would serve me, a very little; just enough to enable me
to endure the jolting of the cars for eight hours, or so —the free
country airs would do the rest: and then I could depart easyfor I should die among my kindred."
" And not a word against his enemies-not a word against
those who have brought all this woe upon him!" mused the laundress, joyfully. "0, how true a disciple of his Lord!"
"What think you, Mrs. Farley 2" asked the young man, earnestly.  " Would it be improper in you-a lone woman-to
receive a sick man for a few days? If so, be frank. I would
not that you, or any one, should suffer in mind orf name, for
lending a helping hand to me."
"My dear friend," said the laundress, taking his hand and
pressing it, "if I did not know the simplicity and uprightness of
your heart, I should be inclined to think that you were mocking
-me. But enough. My home shall be yours, so long as you will
favor it with your presence. And now, brother, no false delicacy.
You are suffering, and stand in need of nourishment. Talk to
me as you would to your mother or your sister. Go into my
chamber and lie down upon my bed-I'll make up another for
myself, to-night, in this room. Be frank with me: if you have
any choice in food, say so; if you desire any particular kind of
drink, speak freely, and fear not that either my patience, my
purse, or my cheerfulness will weary.  Now, then, lie down
and repose yourself, while I make you some broth."
" I thank you, Mrs. Farley-I thank you!" faltered her guest,
faintly. " Let me lean on you to the bed-I am so weak!" he
added, with a wan, apologetic smile.
"Cheer up, Samuel-cheer up. You will thrive, yet!"
As the young Christian sunk upon the couch, exhaustion over
came him, and he fell into a deep sleep.




446      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Dear-dear!" murmured the laundress, as she set about preparing a broth, " and that is the man whom they persecute and
call evil names! Lord help them!"
She was interrupted in her thoughts by footsteps on the stairs.
A  few  moments later, Mr. Crittenden, the clergyman, Mrs.
Townsend, and Miriam, entered the apartment, crying"Samuel! Where is he?"
"Hush!" said the laundress. "He sleeps! This waysoftly!"
Let us take advantage of the young Christian's restoration to
his friends, to sum up the causes of his sudden disappearance.
Upon leaving the Townsends, Samuel staggered off, with his
trunk, to a hotel, where he entered his name upon the register,
and then sat down, in his room, to ponder upon the events of the
day. But his mind was in a whirl. His thoughts were here,
there, everywhere-settling nowhere. His brain was like a
dark day when the sky is draped with vast masses of gloomy,
solemn black, through which the lightning breaks and glides in
small but frequent flashes. So came and went his thoughts;
brokenly, hurriedly, pointlessly-the first being interrupted,
broken up, and the fragments scattered by a second, which was,
in its turn, suddenly invaded, shivered, and the splinters dispersed
by a third, and so on, till that poor mind was like a foggy midnight, with only here and there a street lamp breaking through
the gloom.
At a late hour, the watchman of the hotel, in making his
round, through the lobbies, was startled, while passing the young
man's door, with a smothered cry of
"Help, Lord-help-help!"
The watchman paused to listen, but hearing no further noise,
he passed on, muttering"The poor fellow is having some dreadful dream!"
Samuel did not leave his room till late. He was pale, ner



WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               447
vous, and still laboring under the pressure of a disturbed mind.
A quarter of an hour in silent prayer somewhat comforted and
tranquillized him; and he descended to breakfast: after partaking
of which, he called at the office for pen, ink, and paper, for the
purpose of communicating the events of the preceding day and
night to his parents.
"Your name is Leland, is it not?" asked the proprietor
"Yes, sir."
"Samuel Leland?"
"Samuel Leland, sir."
" Late a clerk in the dry goods house of John P. Townsend?"
continued the proprietor, referring to a newspaper which lay
before him on the counter.
" Yes, sir," returned Samuel, with a slight blush.
" Well, Mr. Leland," said the hotel-keeper, blandly, " the
Satanic Chuckle of this morning has a detailed account of your
affair of yesterday; and as I am very particular about the reputation of my house, you will oblige me by settling up and taking
yourself off!"
Samuel flushed to his very temples.
" Allow me to look at the article, sir," he said, in an agitated
voice.
The proprietor handed him the paper, and his eye fell upon
a paragraph commencing as follows:"A.nother Pious Rascal brought up with a Round Turn —
Startling Developments in the History of a Dry Goods Clerk —
A rich Sample of Rural Piety-An accomplished Hypocrite nabbed
at last. —A rich scene came off yesterday at the great dry goods
jobbing house of Mr. John P. Townsend, where a pious thief, rejoicing in the name of Samuel Leland, but better known under
the expressive sobriquet of' Rural Piety' —"
Samuel could read no more; a dizziness seized him, and he
fell, senseless, to the floor. He was taken up and carried to his




448      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
room, where the application of a few restoratives brought him,
in the course of half an hour, to a faint sense of his situation.
"Now, sir," said the proprietor, "we can't be bothered with
persons of your sort, and I will thank you to square up and clear
out."
Samuel paid his bill, and, leaving his trunk behind him,
went off. like one in a drean), in quest of other lodgings. He
wandered, without being aware of it, into the suburbs, and
thence to a small wood, where, seating himself upon a rock,
he made a fruitless attempt to collect and arrange his thoughts.
But in vain; his mental powers were already beyond his control, and his efforts to recover them were futile. The day passed
away; night came: with the night a tempest, and with the
tempest, rain.
A laborer, while passing through the wood, on the following
morning, came unexpectedly upon the body of a young man,
lying at the foot of a tree. He was drenched to the skin, and
had evidently passed the night exposed to the cold and the rain.
The laborer surveyed the body for a few moments; then
stooping down, he laid his hand gently upon the breast.
"' It still beats," he muttered, "but feebly. There is life in
him yet, with care and nursing."
Help was called, and the body conveyed to a neighboring
house, where the respectability of the wanderer's appearance
secured him immediate attention.
A few hours, however, sufficed to dampen the charitable ardor
of the family, who, upon perceiving the mental weakness of their
guest, at once lost all interest in him, and gave him in charge
of the public authorities, who removed him, with many others,
to the Insane Hospital, where it was discovered that, in addition
to his lunacy, he was in the first stages of a serious pulmonic
disease-the result of his night in the wood.
Mental darkness covered him for nearly three months, when the




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                449
cloud passed away, and intelligence reasserted its empire. Then,
he became conscious of his position, for the first time. His body
had wasted, and was wasting, before the consuming tongue of his
pitiless disease. He conversed with his physician, and having
obtained from him a statement of his real condition, he firmly
resolved upon making an effort to reach Enficld without delay.
This determination the physician endeavored to shake, but in
vain.
" Why don't you wait until you get better!" he asked.
" Because, sir," answered Samuel, with a sad but sweet smile,
"if I wait till then, I shall never see my friends at all-at least
on earth."
"Well, be it as you will," returned the physician.  "I see
there is no use in flattering you. I will attend to your certificate of
discharge at once."
Samuel left the Hospital and the Island the next morning:
we have seen with what result.
The feelings of the tender-hearted pastor upon beholding the
sad change in the appearance of his beloved son may possibly be
imagined, but not described.
Mr. Crittenden and Mrs. Townsend were visibly affected.
Miriam wept not with her eyes; but in her heart were tears sadder far than those which were shed around her.
"I must get him  to Enfield at once," said the pastor.  "A
mother's care alone will now avail him!"
"It will not do," ventured Mrs. Townsend, shaking her head.
"He must first have time to gather strength for the journey."
"Wait," said Mr. Crittenden.  And he ran for an eminent
physician. The latter, on his arrival, remarked, after surveying
the sleeper for a few minutes" He must remain where he is. To remove him, at present,
would be fatal. A few weeks of medical attendance and careful
nursing are indispensable."




450        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"We put him into your hands, doctor," said Mr, Crittenden;': and remember that he is dear to us."
The physician bowed, and promising to call again in a few
hours, when he hoped to find his patient awake, he took his departure.
" Mrs. Farley," said Mr. Crittenden, taking the laundress aside
and putting a small roll of bills into her hand, "you must give
up your business for a few weeks, and turn all your attention to
our mutual friend. I will have some furniture sent to you, so
as to enable you to make the place look cheerful and inviting.
You know, Mrs. Farley, how these things affect sick minds?
You will want a companion, and I think I can find you one with
whom you will be pleased. Now, go in and talk a while with
Miss Selden-I wish to exchange a few words here with our
other friends."
The laundress moved into the chamber, and Mr. Crittenden
called out the clergyman and Mrs. Townsend.
"My friends," he said, addressing them, "there is one nurse
here whose presence at his bedside will do more for our dear
boy, than all the doctors in the world. Fair lady," laying his
hand upon Mrs. Townsend's arm, s" you know to whom I refer,
and you will bear me out in the assertion, that she will worthily,
faithfully, and tenderly minister unto him."
"It is true," answered Mrs. Townsend, looking at him gratefully.
" Let me hope, sir," continued Mr. Crittenden, addressing the
clergyman, " that you will consent to this, and take my word for
the happiness which it will confer upon our Samuel, who, if he is
your son by birth, is also mine from this hour by adoption."
" I am very grateful to you for the proposition," returned the
pastor; "the more so, as 1 have long known the state of my
boy's heart in regard to Miss Selden-although," he added, with




WHICH:  TIE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                  45].
a rnelancholy sm-ile, "' I scarcely think  tlh;t 1;h  was himself aware
of the depth of his attachmlent."' Thanlk you, BMr. Lelani —thank you V'" cried [Mr. Crittenden,
heartily.' Now, let mne say a word to the young lady herself."
Then passing into the other room, he motioned the laundress to
retire, and takinug Mirianm  who was pale and agitated, by the hand,
he said"My Mirry-yours now the task of nursing our dear Samuel
back to health, ylourself back to happiness. His fiither and your
aunt have consentoed-  need not ask if your own heart is willing!"
Mliriam fell, sobbing, upon his breast.
" Cheer up, darling —cheer up," whispered the silent partner.
" HIe has loved you long, if silently.  Cheer up; the clouds are
not always; look forward to the sun, which will yet shine for
youl both!"'
The clergyman lost no time in communicating to his wife and
friends the glad tidings of his son's reappearance.  Three days
afterwards, he received the following painful response:
" DEAR I HUSBANDLove to Snamuel, to whom  I sendc a thousacnd. kisses; to liriam, to whom I send at mother's affection; to
iMrs. Farley, to whom  I send a mother's gratitude; and to MVfr.
Crittenden, to wholn  I send the warmest thanks of a mother's
heart.  But for you and me, nmy hulsband, there is naughllt, at this
time, but affliction.  Our blind one is no mlore. From the hour
of his brother's mnysterious absence, his life has hung upon a
thread.  Fe ]but waited to hear that he had again been found, to
take his departure.  rhe intelligence came, a burst of joy escaped
him, the thread snapped, and he vwas gone.  Come up."
The pastor read this letter with a dry eye.  lie was in tkhtat
stage of mind when the heart can no longer weep.
" flelp, Lord-help!" he murmured. " Woe presses upon me




452      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
hard," he faltered, looking upward reverently; "but I do not
murmur, Lord-no-I do not murmur!'
Alas! poor gentleman!
He handed the letter to Mr. Crittenden, who read it carefully,
and then wrung the poor father's hand, in silence.
"My boy," said the pastor to his son, whose delicate heart
comprehended, by intuition, the cause of the great grief which
was written upon his father's face, " I must leave you for a brief
season to the care of Miriam and Mrs. Farley. Mr. Crittenden
will call and see you every clay till my return. Adieu!"
"Adieu, my father!" returned Samuel, with a faint smile. "Bear
my love to mother, to Aunt Betsy, and Ada; and place a flower
for me upon his breast!"
" How, my boy-you know-"
"Father, I saw him last night in a dream. He was one of
many who were clad in bright garments."
The pastor spoke not. He bent over his son, and they silently
embraced.
"Kiss Miriam, my father," whispered the latter.
The clergyman did so, and then, pressing the hand of the laundress, tore himself away.
He returned in a few days, accompanied by his wife. The
meeting between the mother and her boy was delicate and touching. Mrs. Leland embraced Miriam as she would a daughter;
Mrs. Farley as a sister; Mr. Crittenden as a brother.
Surrounded by those who knew and loved him, and ministered
to by three such gentle hearts as his mother, Miriam, and Mrs.
Farley, it was no wonder if, in a few weeks, Samuel had so far
recovered as to be able, with safety, to venture the journey, to
Enfield. At length the day was appointed. It came, and Samuel
was sad, Miriam in tears.
The pastor and his wife exchanged glances; Mir. Crittenden
and Mrs. Townsend looked at each other. All understood the




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               453
cause of the emotions of those two young hearts, and sympathized
with them. They would have spoken, but delicately refrained,
out of consideration for Samuel himself, who was wrapped in
contemplation.
At length he looked up, and calling to Miriam, who approached,
he said, taking her hands in his"My Miriam, you see before you a poor invalid, who pines
to look once more upon his native hills and on those old familiar fields whose memories mirror a childhood which was one
lengthened holiday. And yet I would not go, and leave behind
in sadness a heart which would, I know, rejoice to breathe with
me dear Enfield's sylvan airs.  I have known you long, my
Miriam; and loved you —I may say it now without reproachfrom the hour when I first heard, in the temple, the music of your
voice singing of the goodness and the glories of Our Prince. It
was on my first Sabbath in the city. 1 have not loved you less
since then; and had my fortune been but a tithe in evenness
with my affection, this confession would have found its way to
your gentle ear long ago. And now, one word. Between us
and our journey, but a single hour. Enfield is a pleasant place,
and our home a pleasant one. It is not so gay as your uncle's
mansion, but it is as cheerful, and as happy. Come, and share
it with us.  If I were a stronger man, I would say to you,
knowing as I do the sweetness of your mind and the goodness of
your heart, Come, and walk with me adown the pathway
to the setting sun.  But being of a frail and feeble mouldone whose summer will never behold an autumn, I canll only say,
Come, and partake of the love of one whose heart is stronger
than his frame-his father shall be your father, his mother your
mother, and his friends your friends."
Miriam bowed her head upon his breast.
" As my wife, my Miriam," he whispered.
A convulsive pressure told him that he was understood.




454      WHICHi::TiiE RIGHT, OR THE LE1FT.
" My father," said Samuel, with emotion, " we await your blessing, as well as that of our friends here, upon our union."
"It is well,')" returned the clergyman. "Mr. Crittenden, are
you content with this 
" Joyfully."
"And you, Mrs. Townsend.?"
" Heartily."
"And you, my partner?"
"Truly."
"Then stand up, my children. You, Samuel Leland, do tender
to this maiden your love, your sympathies, your affections, your
confidence, your esteem, your protection, and all that you may
have now, and all that shall come to you henceforth of worldly
goods, in exchange for those of hers."
" I do."
" Do you accept them, maiden 2"
"I do."
" Shall ye be henceforth as one in love and in trial, in pros.
perity and adversity, in health and in sickness, in joy and in sorrow
from this hour until death shall step in and sunder this solemn
compact?"
" As one."
"Then, by virtue of my office as a delegate from On High, I
do pronounce ye one; and what God hath joined together, let
no man break asunder. Bless you, my children!"




CHAPTER XXVII1.
THE Brigham union was an unhappy one. Both were selfish,
passionate, headstrong, and unscrupulous.  With  no innate
governing principle to give a moral tone to their minds, and to
discipline their hearts, their union was simply a Discord.
Their wedding tour was everything but a Happiness.  On their
return, they exhibited a cordial and hearty dislike for one
another. They were mutually fretful, irritable, and disagreeable. Notwithstanding all this, they took a large house in
Tenth street, and furnished it in a style which distanced the
whole neighborhood. What they wanted with this big establishment, unless it was to have ample room for free fighting, would
puzzle a wise head to determine.  Once launched upon the sea
of housekeeping, they appeared to be mutually resolved upon
keeping it in a constant ferment. For a few months, they fared
sumptuously upon elegant wretchedness. Their main  desire
seemed to be to render each other as miserable as possible.
With this end in view, they contrived to get up a quarrel every
morning at breakfast, every afternoon at dinner, and every evening at tea. Mrs. Brigham carried her complaints to the Townsends and other friends; Mr. Brigham took his to a neighboring saloon, where he buried them in old Otard brandy, which
he sipped from time to time over a cigar, a lounging-chair, and
The Satanic Chuckle.
This kind of life could not, of course, last forever. Daily
irritation of proud, impatient blood, for any lengthened season,
finds a period, sooner or later, in an explosion.
Mr. Brigham returned home generally as disagreeable as he
could be. Mrs. Brigham, ditto: and while at home, they
(455)




456       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
amused themselves by tantalizing each other to the last sufferable
degree.
One afternoon, Mrs. Townsend dined with them, and was an
unwilling witness of one of their daily strifes.
"'Bel," she asked, after Mr. Brigham had taken his departure
in a huff, "' why don't you, for your own sake, try to keep on
good terms with your husband?  It is better to give way, now
and then, to his ill humors, than to be always quarrelling."' I won't yield to him a single inch!" returned Mrs. Brigham,
with a fierce curl of her proud nostril. " I know him better than
you do, aunt. If I should submit to his imperious spirit once,
it would be all over with me. I have no choice except to become
his ruler or his slave-and that I will never be!"
" But,'Bel, don't you see what all this dissension between you
is doing-how fatally it is working?"
" What is it doing?"
" Mr. Brigham is idling away his valuable time, when it should
be employed in business!"
" The trouble is, aunt, he won't do any business except for
himself.  His marriage with a lady of property has rendered
him proud, insolent, and ambitious.  He desires to go into
business on his own account."
" Well, that is a laudable ambition,'Bel."' "Very true, aunt; but he wants my money to do it with, and
that he shall never have! My fortune is already large enough
for both of us; and if he would only behave himself and remember his place, I should be perfectly willing to support him.
But I will not peril my present secure position in wealth and
society, by risking my money in the lottery of business, for forty
thousand husbands!"
"Have you told Mr. Brigham this?"
"Have I? Yes-once a day at least, for the last four months."
"What impression does it make upon him?"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               457
" None at all; or if any, it only increases his insolence to me,
and his determination to compel me to let him have my money!
Now, do you blame me, aunt?"
" You will, of course, do as you think best,'Bel," returned thle
latter, who had no disposition to commit herself. " I have every
confidence in your judgment," she added, with a significant smile,
"and I believe that you know what you are doing!"
Mrs. Brigham laughed; the ladies embraced, and the visit
terminated.
On returning home, Mrs. Townsend found a letter from Miriam.
It was warm, affectionate, yet sad.  It represented that Samuel
was declining day by day; that he felt that the hour of his departure was at hand; and that he had but one regret, viz.: that he
should be compelled to leave behind him a tainted name.
1MYrs. Townsend showed the letter to her husband, who shook
his head, exclaiming"W hat nonsense!"
"You still believe him guilty." asked his wifle.
"Certainly-why not?  The money was found upon him!"
"But Mr. Crittenden thinks him the victim of some conspiracy, or of some one who was interested in his ruin."
"Mr. Crittenden is a clever fellow," laughed the merchant,
"and, ever since he took up religion, a very charitable fellowvery charitable; but in this matter his charity carries him beyond common sense.  Who could be interested in Samuel's
ruirn?  He injured nobody; he stood in nobody's way. Why,
then, should any one conspire against him?  Fudge-fiddlesticks! There never was a rascal, there never was a criminal,
who hadn't the same ridiculous story to tell.  I went, some
years ago, with a friend, to Blackwell's Island, and conversed,
out of curiosity, with a number of the jail birds there-every
one of whom was, according to his own statement, not a hardened reprobate, but-an'innocent man,' and the'victim of a
20




4a5 8    WHICH: THE RIGH-T, OR THE LEFT.
black conspiracy!'  Bah!  When I am robbed of money,
and lay a trap to detect the thief, the individual upon whom I
find the money, were he my own brother, is the thief. That is
a plain way of drawing correct conclusions. As to the fellow's
antecedents, I care nothing. All I have to consider is, whether
the money which I have lost is the same as that which I find in his
pocket.  If so, the case is settled, and my mind is made up.
That is the way I look at matters, and I have always found it
to be a pretty safe one!"
This was a clincher, and the topic was dismissed.
One afternoon, about a week subsequent to the foregoing conversation, lMr. Brigham returned home a little the worse for
temper, which was somewhat spiced by a recent familiar acquaintance with French brandy.
"' Well, woman!" he demanded, "have you made up your mind
yet what you intend to do?"
" In reference to what, sir." asked Mrs. Brigham, surveying
him scornfully.
"To me, madam-to me! Do you design to let me go into
business, or not."
" You are at perfect liberty to go into business as soon as you
please, Mr. Brigham; to cut as great a dash as you desire; and,
as you have so often expressed it, to'give the old house of
John P. Townsend a stout tug:' but," she added, with a low,
mocking courtesy, " not with my money!"
"Have a care, woman!" cried her husband, fiercely.  "Have
a care! You don't know mne!"
" 0, indeed!  iVTysterious man! I don't know you! 0, dear,
you almost alarm me!"
"Beware, madan —beware!"
"The very words the villains always make use of in the melodrama! Mr. Brigham-why don't you turn actor! You have




WHICHE: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              459
no idea how you'd bring the house down with your grimaces and
your be-wares!"
"Woman!" cried her husband, furiously.
"Well, sir. I am a woman; and what then?"
"Have a care-have a care, I warn you!"
"0 dear!  Is that all? What a disappointment!  I really
anticipated something rich; and it's only a'have a care!'
Why, sir, I have a care —the care of a silly husband, who innocently fancies that he is a person of sufficient consequence to be
worth minding."
"Madam! you will yet mind me, be assured of that!"
" You think you will eventually break me in? How you flatter
yourself!"
"I do not merely think so!"
"Poor dolt! Have you the assurance to suppose that you
could ever disturb the serenity of a person of my intelligenceyou!"
" I have that assurance, Mrs. Brigham!"
"You make me laugh!"
"Do I?  See to it, then, that I do not make you weep!"
"You flatter yourself, sir. I do not weep at trifles, and least
of all for trifles like you! Why don't you make use of language
like that to one of your own sex? You would not dare. You
are too much of a coward! A man would treat you, as I shall
yet be compelled to call upon my black porter to serve
you."l
"How is that, madam?"
"To kick you out of my house, sir!"
The teeth flashed lightnings at her.
"Madam, be warned; be warned, in time. There is a devil
in n y breast, which, once aroused, is not easily subdued. He
tame;. a bolder spirit than yours once, as he will in time tame
you, ii you be not careful!"




460     WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THIE LEFT.
"You always had a fine imagination, sir 1"
"But the spirit to which I refer, madam, was not a mere creature of my imagination.'You knew him well!"
" Some poor little boy whom you used to bully in your schooldays, and before the approach of whose big brother, your own
equal in size, you found it convenient to run!"
"I speak of a man, madam!"
"Out, dolt! You would not dare to trifle with a man. It is
not in you 1!'
"A  man, I say; a man, who annoyed me, threatened me,
stood in my way!"
" And you overthrew him 2"
"As certainly as I will you, madam!"
" Some poor wretch, who had neither friends, money, nor influence: a broken-down porter, worn out with rum and hard labor,
for instance."
" A man, madam; a man with friends and influence; one to
whom money was as naught: a man of mind, also!"
Mrs. Brigham began to think she comprehended her husband's
meaning.' She was not certain of it, however; but she determined to satisfy herself.
"I'll draw him out," she muttered, musingly.  "If it be as I
fear, he'd better have hung himself than to have breathed aught
of his villany to me!"
These thoughts darted through her mind like a flash of light,
and without leaving any interregnum between her husband's last
remark and her own reply.
"'A poor man, doubtless, for all that," she retorted, " who, like
yourself, was fonder of the bottle than of himself; and whom
you, taking advantage of one of his drunken, helpless moments,
approached and struck a mean, dastardly blow-from behil d!"
"A man of mind, madam; a man who didn't drink!"
" And you destroyed him?"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THIE LEFT.              461
"As I will you, madam, unless you alter your tone!"
"' I']1 believe that, when you give me the man's name, and not
before; and that you dare not do!"
"I dare do more, madam, than you think!"
"There you go again, braggart! Give me the name of the
party whom  you uprooted so effectually, and then I'll reflect
upon my own chances."
"Samuel Leland, madam!" hissed her husband, with an air of
triumph.
Mrs. Brigham dreaded this name-expected it; and yet when
it fell upon her ears, she experienced a sickness of heart which
all the energies of her will could scarcely resist.
" Pooh!" she said, laughingly, for the purpose. of drawing him
on, "Mr. Leland destroyed himself. He stole his employer's
money, concealing part in the lining of his coat, and part in the
right pocket of his vest; at least, so guardy told us at dinner,
on the day of his detection: and the money was found upon him.
What did you do in the matter?  You simply helped in the
search. Any fool could have done that!"
"Nay, madam, I did more than assist in the search. I suggested it!"
" A drc'adful mark of cunning, indeed; particularly when Mr.
Townsend had previously determined upon a similar course!"
laughed Mrs. Brigham. " Now," she added, for the purpose of
sounding the villain's soul, and of testing the correctness of a suspicion which his words and manner had generated in her mind, " if
you had had the daring genius to plan the whole affair, from beginning to end, yourself-to commit the robberies, yourself-to
watch your opportunity, while conversing with the miserable
young man, to drop one roll of bills in the torn lining of his coat,
and the other in his vest pocket-both of which could, with some
adroitness, be very easily done, why then —"
" Then, madam-" said her husband, with a satanic smile.




462       WHICH: THE RIGI-IT, OR TIHE LEFT.
"Then, sir," returned Mrs. Brigham, looking at him with
affected uneasiness, and purposely faltering in her tone, " I should
say that you and I had better come to an understanding without
delay."
"What kind of an understanding, madam?"
" First tell me how much money you need to go into business?" said his wife, somewhat deferentially.
"Ho, ho! I've brought you down a little, at length, have I."' Answer me, Brigham. Don't talk to me in that bitter way.
You know very well that I don't like it. Why won't you be
kind to me? I am a woman; and women, you know, love those
who are good to them."
" Then set me an example," said Mr. Brigham, with a coarse
Iaugh. "I am an apt scholar, and pick up rapidly."
" What do you wish me to do, Brigham? Be frank. I am a
reasonable woman, if you will only employ redason with me."
"Furnish me with means to give the old house a stout tug,
and we'll get along well enough."
"But how much do you want?  Don't say too much, to
frighten me, nor yet too little, to restrict yourself from operating
with a free hand!"
" Thirty thousand dollars. Does that alarm you 2"
"It is a large sum.  Could you insure success with that
amount?"
"Beyond the shadow of a doubt."
"Well, that is something, but not all."
"What more?"
"Will you promise to be good to me, if I let you have the
money."
" I give you my word for it! Is that security enough?,'
"I am willing to take it. But one thing more. Will you
give up swearing and drinking? They are horrid practices, you
know!"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT                463
"I will swear-"
"No, don't do that!" interrupted Mrs. Brigham, laying her
hand upon his arm, and looking up into his eyes with an assumed
air of mingled confidence and generosity.  "Your word, Brigham-your simple word!-ought to be enough for me!"
"My word, then!" said her husband.
"You give it to me, solemnly-as solemnly as when you affirm
that it was you who planned and executed young Leland's ruin?
I guessed aright the way in which you performed it, did I not 2"
"Had you seen me put the gold pieces in the rolls to make
them sink to the bottom, and beheld me drop one in the torn
slit in the lining of his coat, and the other in his vest pocket,
while we were talking together and looking each other in the
eye, in my office, you could not have comprehended it better!"
he said, patting her flatteringly on the cheek.
"Demon!" thought Mrs. Brigham, behind the confiding smile
with which she had wormed the secret from the audacious wretch.
"Thirty thousand- eh?"
"Thirty thousand, my dear."
" How soon do you want the money 2"
" Right away, if possible."
"Then," said Mrs. Brigham; rising, " I must go up and give
guardy notice. Let me see" —looking at her watch-" it is four
o'clock; just the time to catch him at dinner. Wait here till I
return."
" Shall I send John for a carriage?"
"' O, no; it's not worth while. It is only a step."
"I say,'Be]," cried her husband, rubbing his hands in great
glee, "won't it be a rich joke to call on old Townsend, this
week, for the money with which to flog him, in the way of trade,
next week?  Eh!'"
": Capital! Ha, ha!" cried his wife, quitting the apartment.
"So I say. Ha, ha! ha!"  ughed Mr. Brigham, throwing




464       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
himself upon the sofa. " There's nothing," he added, as he recovered from  his sudden mirthfulness, "there's nothing like
bringing a woman down a few pegs, especially when she is as
fondl, as'Bel is, of showing too high a spirit. Spirit is all very
well, in its way; but when a woman-and that woman my wife
-attempts to make a display of it upon me, she must look out
for the consequences! In fuiture, we'll see who shall carry the
whip-hand-K-r. or Mrs. Brigham!"
And ringing the bell for a match, the ex-confidential clerk lit
a cigar, and concluded he would run out and;" take a nip" to his
success in " having broken Mrs. B. in," at last.
" The wretch-the demon!" mused Mrs. Brigham, indignantly,
while on her way to the Townsends'.  " To have cheated me out
of so noble a husband as Samuel would have made me!"
The lady was evidently quite confident that she would have
won that gentleman, in time.
" He would have been such a splendid fellow to enter a drawing-room, or a public assembly, with! So handsome, so elegant,
so imposing! Why, with what a joy, what a pride, and what a
satisfaction, one would have hung upon his arm! And he
would  have been mine —mine-all mine.  But now-why,
Brigham! what a mean, pitiful rascal-what a contemptible
orang-outang-you are, in comparison!  But you'll get your
deserts for your villany-that's one comfort!" As she drew
near Fifteenth street, she added, with a merry twinkle,'vWhat
a sensation the affair will make, when it gets out, down town i"
Upon reaching the Townsends', Mrs. Brigham laid before them
all the particulars of the ex-confidential clerk's confession. The
merchant was thunderstruck at the recital. Mrs. Townsend made
no remark: she simply glanced at her husband with an expression which said, " What becomes of your positiveness, now?"
"I'll never believe in my eyes again 1' exclaimed the merchant,
springing from his chair, and ordering his carriage.
0                                      0-b-a ——'~~'~  --   ----




VWHICHI: THE IRIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             465
A few minutes later, the trio were whirling down to the store,
to lay the startling intelligence before the silent partner.  The
latter listened to it in silence, and then remarking, "I had already suspected this!" he left the office, and calling the clerks,
packers, and porters together, he announced the news to them,
from the platform, and requested them to spread it far and wide.
Then bidding his partner and lady friends a temporary adieu, he
caught up his hat, and hurriedly proceeded to the various daily
newspaper offices, and related the particulars to the editors. The
following morning, Samuel's innocence, and the ex-confidential
clerk's guilt, were known throughout the metropolis.
After seeing the editors, Mr. Crittenden bent his way to Fifteenth street, and informed the Townsends of his determination
to start the following morning for Enfield.
"I'll go with you," cried Mrs. Brigham, clapping her hands.
"I do so want to see Mirry!"
" And-Samuel!" thought her aunt, quietly.
"Very good," said the silent partner.  "The train starts at
seven. My carriage will be at your door at quarter past six."
"' I'd like to go with you," observed Mr. Townsend; "but I
don't see how I can get away. We have such a press of business!"
"Thanks to Samuel's happy system!" added Mr. Crittenden.
M[rs. Brigham  returned home at nine o'clock, and congratulated herself upon finding that her husband's absence enabled
her, with the assistance of her maid, to make the needful preparations for the morrow's journey. Then feeing the attendant with
a half eagle, she bound the latter to secrecy, and ordering her to
call her at five, she retired to rest.
The ex-confidential clerk let himself in, by the aid of a latchkey, about two hours after midnight.  His step was unsteady,
his manner maudlin, and his mind stupefied with brandy and cigars.
He groped his way to bed, and was soon, to all a.ppearance, as
lifeless as a log.
20*




466      WTHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
He awoke, dull, heavy, and irritable, about noon.
"Where is your mistress?" he demanded of the maid.
"Gone out."
"Where?"
" I don't know, sir."
"Dull head! what do you know?"'
The girl made no reply.
After dispatching his breakfast, the ex-confidential clerk went
out for a walk; stepping in at a saloon for a morning "drink,"
to tranquillize his nerves, on the way.
While proceeding down town, he met and bowed to a commercial acquaintance, who passed on, however, without returning
his salute,
" What's up now 3" muttered Mr. Brigham, in surprise. " The
fellow must have seen me!"
As he approached the Astor House, he encountered Charley
Gibbs.
"How d'ye do, Charley." he said, extending his hand to that
young gentleman.
"Excuse me!" returned the latter, stepping aside.  "I am
particular in my acquaintance!"  And he passed on.
The ex-confidential clerk was, for a few minutes, irresolute. He
was half inclined to follow the young man and demand an explanation.  But he thought better of it, and then continued his
walk.  A  few minutes brought him to Liberty  street, and
muttering, "I'll step in and take a look at the old house," he
suddenly found himself face to face with our old acquaintance, Bill
Bradley, the packer, who was on his way to a restaurant.
"How d'ye do, Bill 2" he said, extending his hand, patronizingly. " Excuse my glove!"
"Who are you?" demanded the packer, starting back a single
step, and eyeing the ex-confidential clerk from head to foot, with
insulting scorn.




WI ICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               467
"This rudeness is intentional!" thought Mr. Brigham, crimsoning to his temples.  "What can it mean."  Then addressing
himself to the packer, he said, haughtily, "You are impudent,
fellow! Stand out of my way, or I'll cane you!"
" You'll do w-h-a-t 2" cried the packer, rolling up his cuffs.
" Cane you!" repeated the ex-confidential clerk.
But he had scarcely uttered the threat, when a quick, heavy
blow from the fist of the stalwart packer precipitated him into
the mud.  Wild with rage, he sprang to his feet, and advanced,
with uplifted stick, upon his opponent, when the fist of the latter
smote him, like a sledge-hammer, between the eyes, and sent
him, whirling and staggering, back again into the slush.
"You'll try it agin, won't yer 2" said the packer, tauntingly, as
Mr. Brigham rose to his feet once more, and measured the huge
proportions of his enemy. "I wish yer would. I like it,myself!"
The teeth of the ex-confidential clerk fairly screeched with
rage; but their owner did not condescend to make any remark.
"I give yer notice," said the packer, shaking his brawny fist
in the creature's face, "that yer must never appear in Liberty
street any mo-ar, while I'm in it;'cause if you do, I'll lam you.
Now, mind! We're very pertickler about the safety of prorpertee down this way, and we don't like the smell of thieves!
Come, move i"
Boiling with rage and humiliation, his face and linen covered
with blood, his clothes begrimed with filth, Mr. Brigham hailed
a passing cab, and muttering to the packer, " You'll hear from
me again, sir!" he sprang into the vehicle, and was, the next
minute, gnashing his teeth with madness, and on his way to
Tenth street.  On arriving at his own door, he threw the cabman
a piece of gold, hurried into the house, renewed his toilet, and
then, lighting a cigar, sat down to compose the wild tempest in
his blood. He had scarcely seated himself, when he descried a
small package upon his dressing-table. Upon opening it, he




468      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
beheld a note addressed to himself; and a number of newspapers.
The former read as follows:"' MR. BRIGHAM:-I send you the city journals of this morning,
trusting that you will find in them food for reflection.
"JOHN P. TOWNSEND."
"Short, and to the point!" muttered the ex-confidential clerk,
with a trembling lip. " What does it all mean? Can that woman have betrayed me?  If so-"
Tearing open The Satanic Chuckle, his eye fell upon a marked
article with the following caption:" A PREcIOUS RASCAL- ASTOUNDING DEVELOPMENTS - THE
TABLES TURNED- RURAL PIETY ALL RIGHT- EXCITEMENT IN
LIBERTY STREET-A PROMISING CANDIDATE FOR SING SING."
Then followed a long detailed description of the ex-confidential
clerk's plan for the destruction of the young Christian, the manner of its accomplishment, the results of that plan to the victim,
the confession of the ex-confidential clerk himself, whose general
character was delineated with a free pen, and a gentle recommendation to the press throughout the Union to copy the article,
and " give the rascal all the notoriety he deserved."
Mr. Brigham dropped the paper, and sunk back in his chair
perfectly livid.
" So," he muttered, "it's all out! The traitress has revealed
all; the papers have got hold of it, and I am a ruined man!
This accounts for my treatment in the streets to-day."
He rose, drew a long breath, and paced the apartment in feverish excitement. At length, he opened his trunk, and taking out
a revolver, which was already charged and capped, he raised
the threatening tube to his ear, and, with his finger on the trig.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              469
ger, paused for a few moments, irresolute. Then withdrawing
the weapon, and muttering"No-not yet. Cowards only sink before the tempest. I'll
brave it out!"
He laid the revolver upon the dressing-table, and paced the
room again.
"Wait till the traitress returns," he exclaimed, with a meaning smile, "and then I'll give these newspapers food for another
and a somewhat different article!"
But a week flew:by, and the wish of the ex-confidential clerk
was as yet ungratified: the traitress had not yet come back.
ZBrigham fumed and drank, fretted and drank, swore and
drank; but neither fuming, fretting, swearing, nor Otard brandy
had any effect. The lady still remained abroad.
He questioned the maid; but the half-eagle had been before
him, and his interrogatories resulted in nothing.
" Can she have deserted me?" he muttered.  "Perhaps, like
many of her kind, she has gone off with somebody else!"
HIis brow darkened at the thought, and a green, ugly feeling
commenced working in his breast.
The following evening he proceeded to the Townsends,' but did
not find them at home.
" When will they return?" he asked of the girl, the porter
being absent.
"I cannot say," was the reply.
"'But you can guess," he said, sharply.
"Guessing is not one of my duties."
"You are impertinent! How long havd they been gone?"
"Two days."
"' Umph! Is Mrs. Brigham with them?"'" I don't know anything about Mrs. Brigham."
"When was she here last?"
"I can't say."




470     WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"You have been put up to this insolence, minx!" said Brigham, fiercely.  "But it won't answer with me, I warn you!
My wife!" he added, with a furiousness which made the girl
tremble. "My wife, I say! where is she?"
"She is not here," was the answer, in a faltering tone.  " She
went away-to the country-some days ago."
" To the country!  To what part?  The place-name it.
Quick, or I'll throttle you!"' To  to-"
"Where-where?" shouted the man, reaching cut his arm as
if to carry his threat into effect.
The affrighted girl drew back, and' stammered, or rather
screamed" To Enfield!"
Brigham started as if he had been shot. His flushed cheek
became livid. His eyes rolled in their sockets like the green
glittering orbs of a serpent. His teeth gnashed as if each was
instinct with human rage and power; the two rows appeared
to the startled fancy of his auditor as if they were severally
leaping from their cavities, and swearing, tearing, and rioting
like enmaddened drunkards.
Brigham was no longer in the semblance of a man, but in that
of a demon.
"Aye," he cried, or rather roared, "with that rascal, Leland.
But I'll teach the brazen creature a lesson. As for him —"
He started, and rushed from the room and the house, without
finishing the sentence.
He darted home; ordered a servant to go and procure him a
bottle of wine; summoned her back, and bade her bring him
"two, three-half a dozen, and not of wine, but-brandy!"
He wore away the night, and started, at daybreak, with a
revolver in his breast, and a valise in his hand, for the railroad.
He reached the dep6t an hour too soon-breakfasted at a




WHICH: THE IRIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                471
neighboring restaurant, and at length found himself rattling off,
with lightning speed, to his destination.
The monotonousness of the ride, added to his broken night,
lulled him in an hour into a nap. Ile awoke again, but unrefreshed; his nerves were on edge, his temper furious.
Fortunately, he was alone. Had another shared his seat, there
might have been an altercation-a quLrrel-a murder. For the
ex-confidential clerk carried a revolver in his breast-each tube
loaded to the muzzle-and was capable of everything.
As it was, the passengers viewed him with uneasiness. They
had a suspicion that he was mad.  "He acted so strangely, and
had such a tiger-like mouth!"
It was, therefore, with a feeling of satisfaction that they at
length beheld him catch up his valise and retire from the car.
CHIAPTER XXIX.
IT was five o'clock in the afternoon when Brigham reached
Enfield. He entered its solitary inn, registered his name, and
then called for dinner, which was promised him in a few minutes.
While the meal was in course of preparation, he stepped up to
the bar, and uttered a single word, in a sharp, dry voice"Brandy!"
The host shook his head, with a smile.
"We don't keep articles of that nature in Enfield," he said.
Brigham bit his lip, and muttering a half-uttered curse, turned
to the register, and ran his eye over the arrivals.
The list was small. It was plain that Enfield was not favored
with very many travellers.  But small as was the list, there
were names in it which caused the reader to start.
The host eyed his new guest with mingled mistrust and
dislike.  The appearance of the latter was by no means in his




472       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR TEHE LEFT.
favor.  His eyes were bloodshot-his cheeks flushed with a
sickly glow-his teeth were raving-his linen soiled-and his
clothes dusty and crumpled. He had, as the reader is already
aware, slept in them in the cars. But that was not all. He had
rolled and slept in them throughout the preceding night.
"This fellow is a rascal!" thought the landlord.  "I must
watch him.!"
The names which caused the new-comer so much concern
were those of Mr. and Mrs. Townsend, Mr. Crittenden, and:Mrs.
Brigham.
"Are these people putting up here?" he demanded, somewhat
fiercely, of the host.
"They are," answered the latter.  "What then?"
Brigham did not reply. He was confused. He asked Ihimself what they were doing in Enfield, and could not answer the
question. He turned to the register again, and noticed that his
wife and Mr. Crittenden had arrived three days in advance of the
Townsends. What did that mean?
Ile was disturbed in his revery by the announcement that the
meal which he had ordered was ready.
He followed the servant into the dining-room like one in a
dream.
As he quitted the bar, the host ran to the register to discover
the name of his ill-favored guest. As he glanced at the list, he,
too, started.  Then going to the door, he beckoned to three
young men who were standing near the entrance of the village
store, on the opposite side of the road. The latter approached,
and entered the inn.
"What is it, Tom 2" they asked.
"Look- here. Read this name," replied the host in a low
voice, as he pointed to the register.
It would appear as if no one could look upon the list without:starting.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              473
As each of the young men read the name of the new-comer,
they fell back in surprise, and looked at one another indignantly.
Their hands rolled up involuntarily into balls, so that they were
no longer hands, but fists.
"Where is he " one of them  asked at length, with an eye
that portended mischief.
"Taking dinner," replied the host. "But what then   I
wouldn't disturb him."
"Wait!" said the other, turning to his companions. The trio
whispered together a few moments. They appeared to be forming some plan.
The landlord suspected the tenor of their conversation, but
did not permit it to appear. In fact, he was himself betraying
signs of a pugnacious spirit; that is to say, his eyes were slowly firing up, his blood was mounting by degrees to his temples,
and his knuckles were itching to hit somebody or something.
The young men having brought their conference to a close,
the former speaker turned to *the host, and said, in a low, cautious tone" Keep an eye on the fellow. We'll be back presently!"
The landlord said nothing; he did:not even nod. But his eye
and lip were eloquent.
The young men then retired-not openly and boldly, as when
they entered, but lightly, carefully, as if fearful of being overheard. Once outside of the inn, they darted off-each taking a
different direction, and all running, as if upon a mission in which
their hearts had an equal interest with their heels.
In half an hour, the major part of Enfield was in motion.
The roads were alive with indignant pedestrians, all running
towards the village, and halting, as they reached it, in front of,
and around, the inn.
When the ex-confidential clerk returned to the public room,
he was somewhat surprised.




474      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
The apartment was thronged with young, vigorous men,
whose threatening countenances were fixed upon himself.
Loud murmurs greeted his entrance, and as he looked around
him for an explanation of what it all meant, a rude hand
from behind suddenly forced his hat down over his eyes. Before
he could recover himself,.a stout grasp was upon his collarthree quick kicks were given him from behind-a shower of
stunning blows fell upon his head, breast, and shoulders, and
amid discordant cries of, "Give it to him,'-" Gibbet the rascal"-" Don't hurt him; march him out of town, but don't hurt
him," —"Cowskin the wretch," —the ex-confidential clerk wTas
dragged from the inn, despite his struggles, and thrown, like a
bundle of wild carrion, upon a dung-heap, in the rear of the
house.
"There!" cried a stalwart youth, "lie there!  That is the
only proper lodging-place for things of your breed. Lie there
till morning; then get you gone, or we'll send you off on a rail,
and with a coat of tar and feathers!"
Brigham looked up, glaring like a wild beast. For a moment,
owing to the severe treatment which he had undergone, he could
scarcely stir.  Rage, however, speedily re-ennerved him, and,
springing to his feet, he surveyed the fierce throng with a blazing
eye.  His teeth bristled like so many angry mastiffs making
ready for a spring.
"Devils!" he exclaimed, in a thick, but unwavering voice, " if
you want my life, you shall not have it without an effort. You
took me by surprise, and have hurt, but not conquered me.
Clowns! think you to subdue a MAN thus easily? Learn better."
As he spoke, he plunged his hand into his breast, and drawing
forth a revolver, presented it at the crowd.
" Give me way!" he cried, "or your blood shall flow like
water.  Give me way!"'
He took a step forward, to run down the dung-heap, when a




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                475
tall form closed in upon him from behind, and adroitly pressing in
his arms, precipitated him  to the earth.  As he fell, his pistol
went or, and the ball, owing to the sudden direction which had
been given to his hand, lodged in his left arm, between the elbow
and the wrist, shattering the bone, and splitting it.
"Let him up —let him up!" cried a hundred voices.  "He
hasn't hurt anybody but himself!"
Notwithstanding the excruciating agony of his wound, the exconfidential clerk was upon his feet in an instant, and glaring like
a wild boar at the crowd.
" There are five balls left!" he shouted. " Since you wish them,
you shall have them!"
But again the same crushing form was upon him, and again he
fell, overpowered, to the earth-retaining, with the tenacity of a
drowning  man, his weapon, which this time did not go off.
"Let him up-let him up! He is a brave fellow, after all.
Let him up, and give him a chance," cried fifty voices in a breath.
Brigoham wormed himself, like a snake, out of the grasp of his
powerful antagonist, and then, with a fierce, sudden spring, broke
through the throng, which, partly from terror of his ugly weapon,
and partly from admiration of his high courage, opened before
him, and away he sped, like a hunted boar, followed by the major
part of the crowd.
Across the road-a leap-over the fence-across a field-a
leap-across another field-a leap, and out upon the main road.
A temporary halt-the fuLgitive looking up the road, down the
road, across the road, everywhere, for shelter-finding it nowhere.
But little time for thought, or decision. His pursuers are behind, but hard upon him.  Down the road, which stretches immeasurably away, with but now and then a house to break the
monotony of its stretch —and with no friendly copse or wood
into which one might plunge —down the road are fifty forms
making with all speed for the village, to join their fellow-towns



476      WHICH: THE -RIGHT; OR THE LEFT.
men in punishing the demon who has wrought so much woe to
hearts that never harmed him; up the road, thirty-forty it might
be-who have sprung from the fields to head him  off, and who
are bearing down upon him like avengers; behind him, a hundred
others, whose fleet limbs are bringing them nearer and closer
each succeeding moment; before him, across the road, a farmhouse, and on the other side of the fence five stalwart, fiercebrowed men, each with a pitch-fork in his grasp, and daring the
fugitive to advance.
The hunted man looks up the road, descries the inn, and boldly
resolves to reach it, or perish in the effort.
In flight again-every nerve strained-his nostrils lapping
up and down, with "passion, ardor, and high resolve-his wild,
expressive teeth launching lightnings at all in his path-his
poised weapon warning them, as they love their lives, to beware
how they impede him on his way.
Three hundred yards at best lie between him  and the innthree hundred yards: no more.
He'll get over them-yes-keep up, brave heart, and he'll
soon get over them.  What are twenty or even thirty men
against a single one, like him, whose blood is up, whose high
resolve is taken, and whose spirit is as resistless as that of proud,
relentless death?  Twenty or thirty men?  Mere nothingswooden things at best. Keep up, 0 heart! keep up, while we
dash on and win.
These thoughts darted like flashes of light, through his brain,
as the fugitive sped forward.
On-on-like a heroic Fury, he swept; onward, through the
score who threw themselves in knots of threes and fives before
him, but only to break, or fall like staggering drunkards, as the
fugitive dashed through them, over them, and scattering them
like sheep-reserving his fire, like a subtle, desperate man, to
maintain himself when he once should reach the inn.




WHICH: THE RIGmHT, OR THE LEFT.               477
Keep up, O heart-keep up. Nerves be again as steel, for
here are seven to dispute with us the road. Ha! well done, shoulders, well done, fist-for three of the dogs are rolling on the earth,
spinning like schoolboys' tops at play, and the others are behind.
Ha! ha! who'll try us next? 
Ten more have leaped the fence, designing to head him offbut three of them are down, and two others falling over them.
But fivie remain, and they-are now behind.  Ha! ha!' But fifty yards now between us and the inn. We'll soon
be there.  IHa! ha!  Let who will, hunt down a deterllined
man.  But fifty yards-we have passed five of them  already.
H-a! ha! Brave sport —brave sport! Let come on, who will:
for now not more than forty yards between us and the inn!"
But a cloud leaps over the fence and rises in the road: " The
giant who dragged us from the bar, who hurled us on the barnyard heap, who pressed our arms and crushed us, causing us a
mangled limb, as we set out to leave the heap. He alone, of
all the crowd, our conqueror; but conquer us again, nor any
other living creature, shall he-nor now, nor evermore!"
A pause-a snap —and a sharp, quick, loud report.
Is the giant down? No. But advancing with a laugh. The
ball has missed its mark.  Curses-curses!
Oh! to be so near, and yet not reach the inn.
Oh! to make so great, so glorious a head against full forty
men, and be taken by a single one at last.
Oh! to be captured by him whose spirit we feel to be BRAVER
than our own.
Oh! to be caught by him-him of all the crowd!
The stout heart fails at last. The legs, till now so dry, and
brave, and wiry, grow moist and tremulous, as the giant comes
up with outstretched arms-as if the physical part knew as well
as the mental part, when bolder blood than its own draws nigh.
The defiant eyes, erewhile so bright and flashing, have lost




478       WHICH: THE RIGHT, O01 THE LEFT.
their strength, their vim, and wax confusedly weak, watery, and
diml. The hidden will, even, falters like the rest. The invisible
mind, before so clear, and sharp, and subtle, becomes misty,
fleecy, andThe laughing giant grasps him by the collar! The giant is his
fate.
"Come!"
And he is dragged along, his legs trailing over the road, as a
butcher might haul the skin of a calf, of a cow, or a bull; his
wounded arm bleeding and hanging, nerveless, down, like a
pendant, fluttering stick; back to the barn-yard in the rear of
the inn, and with a "So, you will play your capers on men like
our Samuel, hey." thrown again, like a mean, pitiful thing, upon
the smoking dung-hill, and left there.
To die? No! That was the first thought of young, indignant,
and partially inconsiderate, blood. But now that the first impulsive outbreak of wrath was come and gone-now that the
wretched game was quarried, reason came back, and with it better thoughts.
" Vengeance is mine! saith the Lord!" said a rebuking voice,
which came from the lips of an old man-a sturdy veteran in
righteousness.
Young blood bowed to the Scripture. Not a man attempted
to justify his share in the transaction. The giant himself was
mute with shame.
"Take him  up," said the veteran, in- the same stern tone;
"take him up, and run one of you for the doctor."
"I'll do that; mine are the longest legs," said the giant, striding like a Colossus from the barn-yard, to the main road, down
which he swept, despite of his immense size, with the speed of an
antelope.
He returned ere long with the village doctor-a short, slender
personage, with a mild, genial countenance-upon his shoulders,




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE  LEFT.               479
and set him down at the door of the inn as coolly as if'he were a
bag of wheat, and not a learned disciple of Galen. But as the
action elicited no remark from the by-standers, not even provoking a solitary smile, it established one of two facts: either,
that the doctor had no regard for his personal and professional
dignity, or else that the incident was too familiar a one to create
surprise. Whichever it was, the worthy doctor did not stop
to say, nor even to make the observation that it was one of Long
Bill's funny ways, which everybody in Enfield knew; but, assisted
by the giant himself, pushed his way, with his usual good-nature,
through the throng in the public room, into a broad entry which
separated the latter from the dining-room, and, preceded by the
host himself, ascended to a small neatly furnished chamber on the
second floor, where, on a bed, lay his patient, groaning with agony
from his wound.
It was a long and tedious affair for the worthy doctor-who
also, like most of country physicians, combined with his art the
practice of surgery —to'extract the ball and set the injured bone,
but it was done at length, and if not as well as before, at least as
well as could be expected; and then the ex-confidential clerk was
left to a reviving cup of tea, a plate of toast, and-his own dark,
bitter thoughts.
It was late when he slept, late when he awoke.  He summoned a servant, and ordered breakfast.  While swallowing an
egg, the doctor made his appearance.  Brigham nodded to him,
and continued his meal in surly silence.
Meanwhile, the physician quietly inspected the features of his
patient.
"A bold, bad man," he murmured to himself.'"If the Creator ever branded a human creature with the outward impress of
innate wickedness, this must be that creature. What eyes, what
nostrils, what teeth!" he added, with a shudder.  "That such a
being should have it in his power to destroy so pure a flower as




480      WnHICH: THE RIGHIT, OR THE LEFT.
Samuel! Yes, our pastor is right:'There are men who know
no god but Satan; they are his agents, and serve him with the
same zeal that the good do their King and Prince. They
have power upon God's children to-day, as Satan himself had
power upon Job.' This man is one of them."
Brigham continued his: meal; his features squirming every
now and then, as a careless movement disturbed his wounded
arm, and caused it to shoot a thrill of agony throughout his nervous system.
The worthy doctor surveyed him with his calm, intelligent
eye.
"' That men can be found to work for so stern a master," he
said, musingly, " and for such wages, too! For his labor in
worrying Samuel, this bad man has received a long tissue of
malignant thoughts, domestic misery, the detestation of all who
know him, and last, though not least, a broken arm, which will
always remind of his shame. What wages! And then, in
The Hereafter-well! well!" he added, checking himself, "' it is
not for me to say what his wages will be there!"
"Now, doctor," said his patient, wiping his mouth with a
napkin, "I am ready for you. Handle me delicately, for I am in
torture!"
The physician rose and dressed his arm, with his usual carefulness and skill.
When the operation was finished, the patient took a portmonnaie from his pocket, and opening it, drew out a bill, which
he silently tendered to the doctor.
The latter mildly but firmly declined it, and then, with an air
at once courteous and dignified, moved from the apartment.
"As you like!" returned the other, haughtily.
"Money from a being like him!" murmured the phsician, as
he descended the stair-case; "it would burn me!"
Thus far the ex-confidential clerk had preserved his own




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.    -181
thoughts, his own counsel.  Excepting his brief conversation
with his host upon his arrival, the few words which had escaped
him during his exciting and humiliating adventure, and his curt
observations to the doctor, he had not exchanged a syllable with
any one in Enfield. He was, therefore, wholly ignorant of the
real state of affairs at the parsonage. He only knew that while
his wife detested himself, she as warmly loved Samuel.  He
was also aware that she was not one to let either pride or principle stand in her way, when once she had an idea to carry out,
or a whim to gratify. These facts, when united, formed, in the exconfidential clerk's opinion, a key to the coming of Mrs. Brigham.
But the presence of Mr. Crittenden and the Townsends mystified
him.  Unless they were there as aiders and abettors in his
wife's proposed infamy, why were they there at all? It was
true, they had a reputation for piety and respectability, which
ought to shield them from so ungenerous a suspicion; but Brigham knew the flimsy character of the Townsends' piety too well
to believe that that would have any influence upon their conduct.
Mr. Crittenden's religion he judged to be of the same plastic
nature.
"The Townsends' piety!" muttered Brigham, with a sardonic
smile. "Show them a glittering bait, and they would do the
work of devils.  Their piety, indeed!  They worship but one
god - Money.  If there be any real vitality in religion, the
Townsends in the Church are enough to strangle it!"
With these thoughts, the ex-confidential clerk ran his eyes
around the room in search of his revolver, but the latter had disappeared.
Brigham smiled, darkly. Then taking up the knife which had
accompanied his breakfast, he carefully examined its edge; and
muttering, " This will do as well!" he cleaned the blade by drawing it over the crumpled napkin, and then concealed it beneath
his vest.
21!




482      WICHE: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
" Now for a solution of this enigma!" he muttered. "If it be
as I suspect, let the traitress look to herself. As for him-"
He paused, drew out the knife, and again examined its edge.
"Yes," he murmured, returning the weapon to its hidingplace, "it will do!"
And he descended, with a moderately firm step, to the public
room, where he found the landlord leaning over the counter, and
quietly drumming a tune with his fingers.
" Good-morning!" said the latter, surveying his guest carefully.
Brigham returned the salutation with surly haughtiness, and
was passing towards the door, when the host added"Two words, stranger!"
Brigham paused, and drawing himself up, demanded —
"What are they, sir 2"
" The first is, that you are wanted at the parsonage, as soon as
you can make it convenient."
"Who sent that message."
" Mr. Leland. You know him, I presume!"
His guest colored, but made no answer to the latter remark.
"Your second word?" he said, sternly.
"That you will, from this moment, relieve me of the favor of
your patronage!" returned the host, with a satirical bow. "I
am very particular about the character of my guests, and yours
don't come up to my mark!"
The eyes of the ex-confidential clerk glittered, his cheeks paled,
his nostrils swelled, and his teeth darkened, as if shadowed by
a passing cloud.
"Your bill!" he cried, striding fiercely up to the counter.
"Excuse me!" returned the host, with a cool, mocking bow,
"I have none made out."  A second bow.  "I shall make
none out."  A third bow. "I have no desire to make one out."
A fourth bow. "But," with a fifth bow, more mocking than




WHICH: THE RIGHT,  OR THE LEFT.              483
either of its predecessors, " I should be happy-very happy-to
see you march out!"
" Your bill —your bill!" cried Brigham, in a tone which bore a
strong resemblance to a shriek.
As for his countenance, at this instant, it was really a picture.
His eyes glared like those of a beast of prey when meditating a
spring; his nostrils did not merely swell, they flapped; his
cheeks and lips were absolutely livid; his teeth were so many
screaming vultures. In fact, an imaginative mind would have
fancied Brigham's features, at this moment, to be so many angry
bullies who accompanied him to " do his fighting."
Most men would have quailed before that frightful face; but
Tom Lowndes, the landlord, not being of a very timorous nature
-that is to say, having Revolutionary blood in his veins —he
didn't quail, a bit. On the contrary, he was as cool as a November breeze; and that is generally very cool-in Enfield. Therefore, he looked at the ex-confidential clerk's gratuitous exhibition
of ferocity as tranquilly as he would if surveying a painting or
a statue of some ridiculous hobgoblin, and wondering whether
it was designed to frighten children to sleep, or to make them
laugh, or what.
"And so," he said, thrusting his hands into his trowsers'
pockets, and then raising himself on his toes, and then returning
to his heels, and then up on his toes again, as Quakers are supposed to do every time they say "Hum!" and leave the presence
of a lady, " and so, you funny man with your left arm in a sling,
and your eyes, and lips, and teeth making such comical facesyou would like me to make out a bill? Well-pray be cool,
now, be cool, bubby-don't shake yourself to pieces, it might
hurt you!-well, all l've got to say is, that I don't like to do such
a thing, at present; at least, not in your case. How do I know
what you might want to do with my signature after the'received
payment'.  Keep cool, bubby-keep cool. Don't try to climb




484      WHICi: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
over that counter; it's against the rules: and besides, you might
scratch off the paint.  Why, how you roar! You remind me
of Deacon Disosway's bull when it had the colic. But, as I was
saying: there's no telling what. you might want to do with my
signature. As for your board and lodging, you are perfectly
welcome. Pray, young man! is there anything the matter with
you, that you throw yourself around in that manner? Aint you
afraid-"
"' Afraid?"
"Yes-of breaking your suspenders, or something of that
sort! But perhaps I am mistaken. You can't be a circus-actor
-a  clown, or anything  of that kind-can  you?   You
look-"
"Well, sir!" thundered Brigham, "' how do I look?"
"Mean enough to be a pickpocket-a house-thief-or to steal
spoons!" said the host, with a quiet bow. "Mean enough to
be a watch-stuffer, a thimble-rigger, or a blackleg!"  A second
bow. " Yes, mean enough to steal your employer's money, and
drop it in the vest pocket and between the cloth and lining of a
fellow-clerk's coat'!" A third bow —very low-head almost
touching the floor.
The enraged ex-confidential clerk could stand no more. He
reeled from the inn to the road'like a drunken man; gritting
his teeth like a savage. He, paused an instant or two, in the
middle of the highway; drew a long breath, as if to throw off
the overwhelming insults which had been heaped so pitilessly
upon him; sighed for his revolver, and then, with a broken
curse, staggered across the road to a dwelling, which his instinct
told him was the parsonage.'
On reaching the fence, he leaned against it for a few moments
to recover himself, breathing hard the while. Then passing
through the little gate, he knocked at the door, which was opened
by our old acquaintance, Aunt Betsy.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               485
The latter recoiled, a step or two, at sight of the visitor, and
surveyed him as she would a serpent.
The worthy housekeeper had heard so much of the individual
who stood before her, that she recognized him at a glance; and
although she knew, as the poor soul afterwards expressed it,
" that it was both uncivil and improper to show her scornful
feelins, and the horror with which she regarded him, she could
no more help it than fly-not a bit more."
Brigham smiled, darkly.
"Mr. Leland  and  my wife!" he said, or rather hissed.
"Where are they?"
" Come i,n" said the housekeeper, in a tone of mingled loathing and terror.
The ex-confidential clerk followed her up to the front room
on the second floor-his hand buried in his vest, and grasping'the handle of his knife.
Aunt Betsy knocked softly at the door.  The ex-confidential
stationed himself at her side.
A gentle step was heard-Brigham, unseen, drew  out his
knife.
The door opened; a single glance, and Brigham started back
in amazement.
The knife fell from his hand. It was picked up by Aunt
Betsy, who looked at him as if she had more than half a will
to sheathe it in his heart.
"It was very wrong of her," she admitted subsequently, " but
she couldn't help it!"
Where is that bold, bad man's haughty spirit now? Where
the tiger fury which was consuming him but a little moment ago?
Where the jealous demon that possessed and drove him to the
very verge of green, raving madness?
Gone —like a breath, like a flash, like a sudden waking from
a wild, insane dream.




486      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
On a bed, thin, and wan, and pale, and wasted, his dark eyes
looking calmly out from underneath his lofty brow, the edge
sharpened, like his nose and chin, by disease, lay, in the closing
stages of dissolution, the innocent victim of this bad man's wiles.
On a chair beside the bed, her head boowed upon the pillow,
sobbing lowly, as if her pure, warm heart were bursting, her
small, slender form thinned by the stern pressure of long watching and her first great grief, sat MIiriamn.
Around this couch, on chairs, their heads bowed in sadness and
in silence, were the Townsends, Mr. Crittenden, the bold, bad
man's w.vife, a little girl, and the parents of the pale, wasted form
on the bed.
" Room for Mr. Brigham," said Samuel, in a clear but feeble
voice.
The parties moved their chairs aside, and Brigham, recalled to
his presence of mind by a touch from Aunt Betsy, entered the
chamber-his step shuffling, and his countenance flushed with
shame.
He approached the bedside like a guilty thing-with the air of
a thief detected in the act.
The young Christian extended his hand to his enemy, with a
look so full of magnanimity, forgiveness, and love, that it compelled the latter to avert his head.
In his long commercial and other calculations, Brigham had
never made provision for a look like that, nor a scene like this.
" I have sent for you, Mr. Brigham," said Samuel, gently, " to
show you how calmly a Christian can die!"
Brigham  groaned.  "Would the earth but swallow me!" he
muttered.
"I am going to my Master, to my Saviour," continued Samuel,
"and on learning that you were in Enfield, I had a strong desire
to see you. I wanted to assure you, on the faith of a dying man,
that neither now nor at any other time have I harbored a single




W HICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              487
unkind thought against you, and that I fully, freely pardon you
for all that you may have said or done to me. And I feel very
grateful to you for coming here, at my request, and allowing me
so kindly to say to you these words!"
He dropped his hand, and Brigham, pale, and gasping hard for
breath, reeled from the bedside to a chair in the furthest corner,
where he sat, staring at the floor, with his eyes as hard and dry
as stones, and with a wild sensation, as if his brain had been
transmuted into wood, and was all on fire.
A long silence followed, which was broken only by low sighs.
Samuel lay calm and trancquil; with an occasional long-drawn
breath. At length, he made a sign. He was about to speak.
"Mrs. Brigham," he said.
The latter approached, and took his hand.
Samuel looked at her with a fraternal air.
" If you would only be reconciled to Mr. Brigham," he said,
tenderly.
Brigham himself pricked up his ears, and listened.
"The marriage-vow," continued Samuel, "is a holy one. It is
made before man and God, and should not be broken. You have
vowed to cling together unto death, and it is your duty to do so.
The voice of duty is imperious, because upon it depends our
happiness here, and hereafter."
"Oh, Samuel," cried the lady, " do not ask me to do that. I
do not love him."
"' But you are his wife," returned Samuel, gently, "and it is
your duty to love him; and you would find it a pleasant duty,
too, if you would only consent to try. Mr. Brigham, my friend,
be kind enough to step here a moment."
Brigham complied, looking very much like a man who was
about to be hanged.
"Mr. Brigham," said Samuel, kindly, " look your wife in the
face. Mrs. Brigham, turn your eye upon your husband.." The




488        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
speaker then added, solemnly, " You two, who are looking upon
each other, have registered an oath on the tabllets of the recording angel, that you would love one another, cherish one another,
abide with one another. Why do you not remember it? If
evil counsels have stepped in between you, is that a reason why
you should forget your compact? Should you yield to evil
counsels your honor, your oath, your duty?  If evil thoughts
have come in upon you, suggesting your estrangement, is that a
reason why you should mutually forget your oath? Or is an
oath nothing, God nothing, duty nothing, and your own whims
everything? Say you do not love each other. Is that a reason
why you should not try to do so? Is not duty worth, at least,
an honest trial? If you do not love, how know you that you
cannot? Duty is worth an effort. Think-your oath!"
He paused. There was no answer. IHe resumed"It may be you think hard of one another; that you entertain
opinions adverse to each other's personal worth. This for your
encouragement: There came never yet from the Creator's hand a
heart that had not its good corner. Who looks for it, in a kindly
spirit, will find it; but who looks for it with an ungenerous key,
will never find its lock. The human heart is a simple thing to
him  who'll try to understand it. Would you see its rudeness,
touch it rudely, and its rudeness will spring out. Would you
taste its sweetness, touch its better part, and its sweetness will
gush forth. Who would receive kindness, must themselves be
kind. You two, who are looking at each other now, have each
your better corners, and room, too, in your hearts for tender affections, although you may suspect it not. Hitherto you have only
played upon each other's evil; make a noble effort now to reach
each other's goodness. The fountain of love is vast, and will increase day by day, excluding in time all the bitterness, so we but
feed it daily. Mr. Brigham! have you not in your heart a kindly
feeling for this lady, who loves you, though she thinks it not 2'"




WHICH: THIE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              489
"I confess it," said  Brigham, glancing  stealthily at his
wife.' And you, Mrs. Brigham, have you not in your heart a kindly
feeling for this gentleman, who loves you, though you think it not?"
The lady was silent. But brave Samuel did not despair.
"Listen," he said.  " The heart that truly loves is slow to
admit it, lest its love should be too lightly esteemed. But it
need not be so in your case: your husband will appreciate your
love, value it, and teach you, by his own ardor, how it may grow
and deepen for him, as his will grow and deepen for you. Let
him once see your goodness, and his will run out to meet it."
He paused again; but the lady was still silent.
Mr. Townsend glanced at his wife, and silently inquired" What do you think? Will she consent."
His lady answered with another glance" No. Or, if she does, she will not adhere to it."
"'What Mrs. Brigham means," said Samuel, addressing the
lady's husband, "' is, that she may not love you enough at first,
perhaps, and that you will yourself grow discouraged; that she
has certain little fixed whims which she may not be able to get
rid of all at once, and that you will not kindly make allowance for
them while they are passing off; so that her love, which is now
away down in her heart, may gradually work its way to the top,
and look out and nmeet the sunshine of your love. She fears
that you will not give it time to reach the surface, but chill it
back ere it shall get up very far! -Is not that it, dear lady?"
"Yes!" faltered the latter, glancing stealthily at her husband.
"But her fears are groundless —are they not, Mr. Brigham?"
said Samuel. "You will pledge her your word as a gentleman,
that you will give her affection ample time to thrive and reach
the sun?"
"I will-I do!" said the latter, with every intention of keeping his pledge.
21*




490       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Then I will meet you half way, Brigham," said his wife,
generously extending her hand. " I will be good if you will,
kind if you will. I give you my word, as a lady!"
Brigham took her hand and pressed it. The pressure was returned.
A flush of pleasure spread, like a play of light, over the brow
of the young Christian.
"Be again as one," he said, solemnly. "Tfhink kindly of one
another; have consideration for each other's weaknesses; bid
the evil depart, and let the good rise, and expand, and deepen.
So shall you find peace, and love, and joy.  Go," he added,
touchingly, "go and be happy!"
The reunited couple passed away from the bedside.
"' Blessed are the peace-makers,'" murmured Mr. Crittenden.
" O, Jesus! what great hearts thou placest in the breasts of
Thy people!"
"Hand me a drink," said Samuel.
It was done by her who loved him as she loved none other
on earth.
Samuel rewarded her with a grateful smile.
"Miriam," he said, taking and pressing her hand, " Miriam,
my sweet one! yours has been an unhappy love."
"No, no, Samuel! no, of joy, rather; of great, great joy!"
cried the young girl, through her tears.
"We were wed in my affliction," continued her husband,
gently;'when death had already marked me for his own.
From that hour until now, your tender eye has been upon your
mate, but it has only been to see him move day by day nearer
and nearer to his tomb. This is not the sight for a young wife's
heart. Surely an unhappy bridal!"
" Not for me, Samuel! Not for me. Oh, no. Do not think
it!"
" Pardon me," said Samuel, shaking his head, " but I must think




-WAHICH: THEi RIGHT, ORI THE LEFT.           491
it. The honeymoon may bring tears to a young wife's eyes, but
they should be tears of joy, not sadness. It should tell of present
bliss, not misery, and promise a bright, not a gloomy, future. I
mention this, sweet one! to assure you that if I have been a
silent witness of your devotion, I have appreciated it as well.  I
have symprathized with your fond feelings, and mourned for you
over your unfortunate lot in having fixed your woman's affections upon one who could only reward them with a smile; in
having, out of your great goodness, allied yourself to one who
could be with you but a little time, and that time only in sorrow.
But take comfort, sweet one! we shall have another union, in a
land where sorrow comes not, nor parting hours:  THERE!"
He pressed her hand, and she sunk upon a chair, like one
heart-broken.'" Mr. Crittenden," said Samuel.
That gentleman stepped up and took the young Christian's
extended hand.
" Dear friend," he said, falteringly.
"Dear brother," continued Samuel, " I wish to congratulate
you upon your coming to our Prince, and to ask you if you have
not found joy in believing?"
" Great joy, lmy friend —joy unspeakable."
" Ah! you make me very happy. You will, I know, adhere
faithfully to the standard of our Prince, because you are a brave
and upright man. We are about to part, clear brother; but
only for a brief season. I shall see you again, and when I see
you, you will be clothed in the bright garments of the Rtedeemed."
" God grant it!"
" le has granted it, already, dear brother," said the young
man, affectionately. "1 I can almost see the raiment and the mansion which have been marked out for you There, even now.
Oh, could the world but be persuaded of the noble heart of our




492       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LErT.
dear Prince! How full it is of love, of hope, of kindness, of
gentleness, and of generous magnanimity-they would rise up in
myriads, and strive with each other for precedence in His acquaintance and affection! Believe it!"
"I do —firmly."
" I am sure of that; for you, dear brother, are one of the few
who, when once convinced, act resolutely and at once upon the
line prescribed by your conviction. Ah! you cannot conceive.
what joy there is in heaven when a great mind like yours takes
up arms for Christ; for the angels know that great minds will
not be content with making offering to Him of themselves alone!"
The merchant bowed his gratitude for these obliging words.
"There's not a being on Life's pathway," continued Samuel,
glancing at the Townsends meaningly, "whose steps are not
watched from Heaven-joyfully, if he walk in the light of the
Right; mournfully, if he continue in the darkness of the Left!"
Then pressing the hand of his friend, he said, "Dear brother!
my society will. want looking after. Its members are leal men
in Christ, but they would, I know, feel additionally strengthened
and encouraged, if you would but make one of their number. Your
ripe, comprehensive mind, rich in suggestiveness and experience,
would be to them like a vast granary, to which they could resort,
in time of need, for nutritious food, in the way of counsel and
direction. If you would only make one of them," he added,
pressing Mr. Crittenden's hand tenderly, "it would make you
and them so happy!"
"I will do so, joyfully!"
" Thank you-thank you! 0 what a world of light, and love,
and pleasure, it will open unto you! And now, one word."
"Say it, dear friend."
"I have made out a list of my poor, which Miriam will hand
you when I am gone. Many of them, I have reason to believe,
are His children. You will find a figure 1 mark before their




Wv HICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             493
names. Some are conning the subject over, but have not yet
fiund Him; these want encouragement: their names are
marked by a figure 2.  The others, whose names are prefixed
by a figure 3, are warped in mind by views bordering upon infidelity, and can only be led to Jesus by slow and patient stages.
If only one of them can be saved, it will be matter for rejoicing.
But they are all more or less friendless and helpless, all deserving. Three of them are paralyzed, four bedridden, one blind,
one a struggling widow with four small children, one a noblehearted wife with three helpless little ones, and a husband
chained to his bed with consumption; two are helpless with
rheumatism, and one a noble orphan girl, of eighteen, struggling to keep her two little orphan sisters from the alms-house.
They are all honest, virtuous, deserving people; and I should
rejoice in the knowledge that their little wants will not be forgotten when I shall be no more."
"I will take charge of them," said Mr. Crittenden, with emotion.
" And you will encourage those who are laboring in mind with
hope, and be kind and patient with the others, and lead them, if
possible, to the Right?"
"Yes. I promise it."
" Oh! thank you-thank you. You make me very happy!"
cried Samuel, with a parting pressure.
Mr. Crittenden returned to his seat, sobbing like a little child.
Samuel paused a while to gather a small degree of strength,
and then called up Mr. and Mrs. Townsend. He surveyed them
alternately for a few mominents in silence, and with an air of
mournful sadness.  He knew, by that peculiar intuition which
enables the children of God to single out those who are really
of Him, from those who are only seemingly so, that the piety of
this pair was simply a pretence; and he felt it a duty which he
owed to his Maker, and to the couple themselves, to warn them
3f their daner,




491       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"My friends," he said, in a tone which they alone would be
likely to understand, "you have often seen a city missionary.
He goes, like a messenger from heaven, with his little pack of
Gospel messages, from house to house-leaving a tract here, a
Bible there, a kind word everywhere.  One door opens to
him freely, and receives his tract or book with the same kind
spirit with which it is tendered; a second, coldly; a third, sometimes from pride, sometimes from policy, and sometimes from
both, opens to him with affected pleasure and politeness, and
receives his heavenly messages with a show of genial gladness,
which deceives no one but themselves-the humble missionary,
never; while a fourth bars itself against him, and though he
knock or ring ever so long and loud, neither mistress nor servant
will come-that door remains closed against him.  On his
second round, his reception is the same; the third, like the first
and second; and the fourth, as the third-the fourth door is ever
closed against him. On his fifth, he may try the fourth door for
the fifth time, but if he find it impenetrable still, he puts it down
in future as a door at which there is no use in knocking, and
ever after passes it by without attempting to enter. The Holy
Spirit, in its tours among men, is like that humble missionary.
As the latter knocks from door to door, the Spirit knocks from
heart to heart. One receives it kindly, gratefully; a second,
coldly; a third, to serve some worldly policy, receives it with
a show of great gladness and rejoicing, which sometimes deceives
the world, themselves not at all, the Spirit itself, never; while
a fourth fastens its door against it, as if with locks and bolts,
and will not let it in. The Spirit calls again, but with the same
ill success; and again, and yet again, but with no better result
than before. It is grieved at the stubbornness of that heart
which will not accept of goodness for its own sake, if not for
His, and it departs in sadness. When again it comes that way,
it sets the door of that heart down as one at which there is no




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             495
use in knocking, and mournfully passes it by. If it never, in
mercy, knock at its door again-as sometimes it does notWHAT THEN?  Let it bolt and bar itself in, though never so
strongly, there comes at last a second spirit which it can not
shut out: Death! That spirit is God's constable. It holds out
its warrant, and laying its cold hand upon the trembling, unrepentant heart, says:'I arrest you in The King's name. Your
time's up.  Come!' Dear friends," added the young Christian,
impressively, " if either of you are acquainted with any heart
that has closed its door upon the Holy Spirit, warn it, for its
own sake, to do so no more: for its time is not always, and the
constable is at hand!''
The Townsends returned to their seats with misty eyes and
troubled minds: as thankful for the solemn admonition; as for the
delicate manner in which it had been given.
" Great heart —great heart!" murmured Mr. Crittenden, who
understood and comprehended it all. "O, would they but remember it, and take heed!"
"Ada," said Samuel.
"My protector!" said the child, approaching him.
"Ada," he said, laying his hand gently upon her head,' I
promised your mother to educate, watch over, and bring you up
in the light of the Divine Eye. I cannot keep that promise
in my own person; but, thanks to my Redeemer! I have
friends who will do it for me, when I am gone. And you, Ada,
darling, are one of these friends. You will help me a little,
will you not?"
"How?" asked the child, innocently.
" By being good; by loving God and Jesus, and your teachers
and your friends, and everybody in the world?"
"I'll do that. I'll be good-always," said the child.
"Ah! thank you, darling-thank you; you make me very
happy! Now, look at me-look at me well, and remember my




496     WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
face. One of these days, if you will only be good, you will go
up to heaven, and then you will know me, and then you will see
God and His Son, Jesus-The Prince. Oh, Ada, darling, don't
forget to be good-don't. I shall look for you so anxiously.
You won't forget l"
"No," said the child. "I will be good!"' Ah! thank you-thank you. Miriam, sweet one! unto you
I intrust the keeping of this child. Take her, love her-rear
her, as if she were born of your love and mine, as a pearl for
Our Prince's crown."
" I will!" said Miriam, pressing the sobbing child to her breast.
"I will!"
"Ah! thanks-thanks! You make me very happy! Kiss
me, Miriam-and you, too, Ada!"
"And this is the man against whom I raised my hand!" murmured Mr. Brigham. "God help me!"
A pause followed. The young Christian was recovering his
strength. At length he glanced invitingly at his parents. They
approached.
Samuel, with his eye upon the pillow, surveyed them for a
few moments with an air of touching tenderness.
" Your hand, dear father-dear mother, yours!" he said, in a
tone which showed how deeply he was stirred. Affection, sympathy,, respect, pity, were in his air and voice. " I feel for you,"
he added, pressing their hands. "The rod of affliction is laid
upon you hard-you, whose delicate hearts feel affliction's
slightest touch so keenly! But a few months, and you were
called upon to surrender up"-his voice faltered —" brother Joe
— your little one.  The grass is scarcely yet formed which
covers his little form!"
He paused; emotion shook him: a tear fell from his eyelid
to his cheek. He recovered again, and continued:
4" And now you are commanded to relinquish your first-born




W HICH: THE BRIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              497
-your only one. I sympathize with you in your great sorrow.
Pardon-pardon!" he added, in a voice which struggled in vain
to be firm.  "'I wanted to console, to strengthen you; but I
find-I find I am not so strong as I thought.. I-I-my heart is
breaking. I-I-Ifather-mother!"
And unable longer to restrain his agony at parting, even for a
time, from those whom he so tenderly loved, the affectionate
youth gave way, and his great heart melted away in tears.
His parents bent over him, and their sobs mingled together.
Samuel himself was the first to master his emotion. He
glanced alternately at the two dear beings whom he understood
so well, and whom he now beheld bowed down by the sternest
of human sorrows. He knew that their delicate natures could
not bear to see even an humble insect suffer; and he comprehended what then must be their agony in parting with their son,
whom they had known and loved so long, whom they had seen
pass from infancy to childhood, from childhood into youth, and
from youth into manhood-loving him fondly all the way.
They were upon their knees, their foreheads bowed in mingled
prayer and agony, upon the coverlet.
Samuel laid his hands affectionately upon their heads.
"Take comfort, dear hearts," he faltered, "your loved one is
on his way to Our Prince-The Prince of the Happy Land.
There, ere many years, you will re-meet him, to part no more
forever —rejoice, dear hearts, rejoice in that!"
The parental pair looked up, and thanked him with their eyes.
"Take comfort," he repeated, tenderly.  "For the two whom
He has taken from you, He has given you two in return: Miriam
and Ada. Love them-cherish them: Ada as Joseph, Miriam
as Samuel."
"We will, dear boy! We will!" said the pastor, pressing
Miriam to his breast.
"They shall be as ours!' said Mrs. Leland, embracing Ada.




498      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
The brow of the young Christian became radiant with happiness.
" I thank you!" he faltered. "I thank you!"
Emotion overcame him, and he was silent for a time. At
length he grew calmer.
" Father —mother," he said, " let me testify my gratitude for
your great kindness and affection to me from my infancy until
now; for your noble precepts and examples; for your careful
training of my mind and heart; and for your parental goodness
and Christian lovingness in having led me early in the way to
God. I love and revere you both-I cannot say how deeply.
But if it were permitted to men to be born again as children,
and to have their choice of parents, I would select you, sir, for
my father-you, madam, for my mother, out of all the world:
so profoundly do I honor and esteem you!"
His parents bowed their heads upon his hands in thankfulness,
and to evince to him their appreciation of this generous compliment.' "Kiss me, my father-and you, my mother!"
And these three pure, sympathizing natures embraced each
other for the last time.
The agitated parents then tore themselves away.
The young Christian sighed, and breathed faintly.
" Shame upon me —shame upon me!" murmured Mr. Brigham.: Oh, that the earth would open and swallow me! My mother —
my mother! upon you rests the blame fbr this!"
At length Samuel turned a glance over at Aunt Betsy, who
was sitting modestly, and sobbing mournfully, by the door. She
rose, and moved, with a tottering step, towards the bed. Samuel
held out his hand to the good old creature, who, he knew, loved
him with a tenderness scarcely second to that of his mother.
" Betsy," he said, " your laughing boy, who used to give you
so much anxiety when he was a child-whom you have tossed




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              499
and dandled in your arms as if he were your own-whom you
so humored and caressed, but never spoiled, wishes to thank you
for the many kind things which you have said and done for him
throughout his brief but happy life."
"'Don't mention'em, Samuel-don't!" cried the faithful old
creature.  "I'm sure you were always a very good boy, and it
did my heart good to be as kind to you as I could. But pray
don't mention'erl- don't!"
And yet the dear soul knew that it almost made her burst
with mingled joy and pride to think that Samuel not only remembered, but spoke of them, too.
Samuel smilingly shook his head.  He understood her fond,
simple heart.
"Do you recollect the old time, Betsy," he asked, "when you,
and mother, and I used to romp among the hills, while father
was composing in his study 9'?"
"Oh! dear-yes!" cried the housekeeper, smiling through her
tears.
" And how you and mother used to drag me in the little wagon
which pa gave me on my birthday; how I used to hold the reins
which mamma made for me, and flourish the little whip which
you gave to me on your birthday, and how I used to cry'Gee
up, my horsey-wows?' "
"Oh! my dear boy!"
"How we used to go off in the woods, and play hide-and-goseek among the tall trees-father going sometimes with us, and
joining in the sport; and after play was over, telling us, you,
and mother, and me, as we listened to him, of all the beautiful
handiworks of God; how each had their individual duties to perform, and their missions to fulfil-the tall trees, the fallen leaves,
the birds, the insects, the flowers, yea, the very loam itself, and
all-as if they were human beings like ourselves; and how we




500     WHICH: THE RIGtHT, OR THE LEFT.
used to sit and hang upon his sweet words, so full of truthfulness
and beauty!"
"Oh! Samuel-Samuel!" sobbed the housekeeper. "I'll cry
if you go on so. Yes, I will. Why, you were a little, teeny,
weeny fellow then-the brightest and lovingest in all Enfield i"
Samuel smiled.
"Then our gambols through the bright, green fields, chasing
the butterflies and the grasshoppers. Don't you remember how
you used to let me beat you, and how you pretended that it was
with my own little legs?  And then in kite-time, how you
used to show me how to raise mine, and how to pay out the
string, until the old kite was away up almost as high as the
clouds?  Ah! those were happy days; Betsy.  What rompers
we were then! The dear old hills, with their green slopes, and
their sunny tops, methinks I see them  now, as then; and the
green fields, too, with their rich earthen odor, which I scent even
nlOW!"
He paused; he was growing feebler and paler with each suceeeding moment.
"Be kind to father, and mother, and Miriam, and Ada," he
said, after a few moments.  "And now, kiss me!"
Mr. Townsend looked at his wife with a glance which said,
"The end is approaching of our young friend."
Mrs. Townsend was pale. Her husband regarded her for a
few moments in silence, and then whispered"Is anything the matter?"
Mrs. Townsend shook her head- without, however, withdrawing her eyes from the great Christian light which was slowly
waning on the couch,
"She is affected -poor thing!" muttered the merchant.
"Miriam-a drink!" said Samuel.
It was given him, and he breathed easier.




WHICH: THE RIGHT', Oil THE LEFT.               501
"My time is approaching," he said, with a serene smile.  " If
there are any here to whom I have ever brought a single tear,
or a solitary pang, forgive me. If there are any here who have
ever done me wrong, in word, or thought, or deed, I forgive
them. Peace on earth-good-will to man!"
"Friends," said the pastor, in a shaken voice,' let us pray!"
All knelt, and the clergyman sent up a touching petition to
the Most High.  At its close, the pastor rose and approached
the bedside; but Miriam was there before him, her arm around
the young Christian's neck.
The tender-hearted father sighed.
" Yes," he murmured, "she has the best right.  Poor girlpoor girl!"
Mrs. Leland fell upon his breast.
A pause followed; a pause, not of silence, but of sobs, of
heart-stirring sighs, of glittering tears.
The face of the dying Christian grew paler and paler. His
large, dark eyes, bright with joy, appeared to be fixed upon
some object invisible to all but himself.  His attent ears
quivered, as if struggling to catch the slightest vibrations of sweet
harmonies upon the air.'" Music!" he murmured, softly.  " Do you not hear it?  Music!  Oh, how melodious!  Spirit forms, preceded by seraph
bands, are coming up to meet me, and-Our Prince is at their
head! He dazzles me with His brightness!
"Hark! they sing.  Their voices mingle with the harps, the
pipes, the timbrels. Oh, how sweet, how glorious-how stirring!
" I see faces that I have known-forms that I have loved;
Joseph, too-among the seraphs. He is blind no more. And
little Robert, too —his sorrow all gone-his eyes radiant. 0,
how beautiful!
"Behold!" he cried, rising with the last spark of expiring




502      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
energy, and supporting himself with his left hand, while he
pointed upward with the other, "behold that dazzling host!
They are coming for me-rejoicing as they advance. Come, let
us join in their glad song-' Glory, glory to Thee, O my Redeemer! Hosanna! hosanna to the Highest!'"
His arm fell from under him, and he dropped back upon his
pillow, motionless-his face beaming, shadowingly, with angelic
sweetness, and his eyes radiant with joy.
But all knew, as they looked upon that pale, sweet countenance, that it was as one of marble, and that those radiant eyes
were as eyes of glass.
The spirit had shaken hands with its old companion of clay,
and gone up to its God.
"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away," said the
pastor, in a stirring, but quivering voice. "Blessed be His Holy
name!"




CHAPTER LAST.
TI-E reunion of the Brighams was only for a brief season.
Without an innate moral tie to bind them, a few months saw
their solemn promises broken, and themselves apart. The Exconfidential clerk strongly desired to open a jobbing house, and,
as he expressed it, give the Townsends a tug. His lady was
perfectly willing that he should do both, but not at her expense.
"H Ier money," she said, " was settled upon herself, and she was
determined that it should remain so. Mr. Brigham married her
because she was rich, and she was not disposed to place it in his
power to render her poor. She held the whip in her own hand,
and she intended to keep it there!"
Language like this could end only in one way-rupture and
separation. So the rupture came, and with it separation-the
lady returning to the Townsends, who were very glad of her
society, and-the use of her money; and the gentleman retiring
in disgust to the South, where he turned gambler, an occupation
which charmed him by its excitement. Three years rolled away;
at the end of which time, the newspapers announced that Mr.
Brigham had fallen by the bowie-knife of an indignant planter,
whom he had defrauded at play.
Mrs. Brigham, on hearing of his death, went at once into an
interesting suit of mourning, which induced an English gentleman, who saw her at a soiree, to make some inquiries concerning
her " means;" and on learning that she was set down at eighty
thousand dollars, he at once decided that he could spend that
sum easily, and hastened, therefore, to make an impression upon
(508)




504       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
the lady's heart. How far he succeeded in the latter, we have
no method of ascertaining; but of one thing we are satisfied: he
led the lady, eventually, to the altar. The honeymoon passed away
very pleasantly; but at the end of that period the gentleman found
that he had committed a mistake in supposing that he could
have the handling of his wife's funds. She quietly, but firmly,
notified him that that could never be the case, and the English
gentleman went off in a huff-naturally expecting that the lady
would call him back and give him what he wanted, upon condition that he would kiss and make up. But the ruse did not
succeed; and then the gentleman returned of his own accord.
But Isabella, or rather, Mrs. Bulkhead, found, after a while, that
her new lord " wasn't much."  In a note to her old friend, Mrs.
Townsend, she stated that " the fellow was fond of getting tipsy;
that he spent three hours a day in dressing and surveying himself in the glass; and that he did not appear to live for anybody
but his tailor."  A few years, however, released the gentleman
from his " dear, delightful torment," as he was wont to term his
better half, leaving her, as he laughingly remarked in his closing
moments, "equally as well off in funds as he had found her, for
which, he thought, she ought to be sufficiently grateful to give him
a tip-top funeral."  Mrs. Bulkhead again returned to the Townsends, who, now that they were getting into years, felt the want of
some one to amuse them. Mrs. Bulkhead pleased them satisfactorily in this respect; that lady being as fretful and whimsical as a life without an aim, or a heart that was Wholly selfish,
could reasonably be expected to make her. One evening, at.
tended by her maid, she ascended to her apartment to dress fol
a party. When she had completed her toilet, she dismissed the
girl, and was preparing to go down to the drawing-room, when
she was startled by a pain in her breast. She rang the bell for
her servant to return, and then seated herself on her bed. The
maid came in, but it was to find her mistress speechless and




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                505
staring. She hurriedly called the Townsends, who as hurriedly
summoned a physician, who dwelt next door. But before the
arrival of the latter, Mrs. Townsend had made the discovery that
her friend was beyond human aid.  " Disease of the heart!"
muttered the doctor.
With the Townsends matters moved along as usual.  They
waxed neither better nor worse; they increased in riches and in
years, and with but one ambition-to be amused. Meanwhile,
the old house went on, as Mr. Townsend expressed it, with the'honest dodge," extending year after year in customers and
wealth.  "The thing paid" so well, that other houses took it up,
and with more or less success, according to the energy of their conductors; but as the majority of the latter were previously notorious for everything but honesty or truthfulness, dealers were shy
of them. " The fact is," said Mr. Townsend, in discussing the matter with his wife, " the country trade are picking up in sharpness.
They are cautious whom they buy of. The house that gouges them
once, will not do it a second time.  And this brings me to my
great point, viz.: It is always important to success to preserve an
appearance of honesty.  Lose that, and you are gone."  His wife
smiled. " So," continued the sagacious worldling, "in the Church
it is always well to preserve an appearance of piety.  It helps
one wonderfully.  It assists you in getting people's confidence
and-money. Besides, it secures one a respectable position in the
best society. Well-well, after all, Jane, there's nothing like a
judicious mixture of honesty and humbug, of worldliness and
religion. It pays!"
"' All the world appears to think so, at any rate!" returned his
wife; " and it does seem as if all the world could not be wrong!"'
" Oh, it's all right, my dear —all right, depend upon it.
Whatever pays is right-it must be; and when a man doubts
it, let him  put his hand in his pocket and feel the evidence.
If the stuff is there, his suspic.ions are wrong; if the stuff is
22




506       WHICH: TH1E RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
not there, then he is incompetent to form  an opinion. It is
only those who haven't got the raw material, and can't get it, who
rail out,against our doctrine."
Mrs. Townsend made no reply.  In fact, she entertained herself similar views; but, in moments of honest reflection-and
these would come sometimes-she thought differently, and so
did her husband: but neither considered it convenient, JUST
THEN, to encourage them, and so they glided on into old age and
its infirmities, gracefully and respectably.
One day, the old lady was unusually meditative.
" Any new idea?" asked her husband, who was now a hale,
hearty, handsome gentleman of sixty-five, with small, white, fat
hands, a sleek, rosy face, and a bald, polished head, with a
small silky fringe on each side.
" I'm thinking, my dear," returned his wife, " whether we are
right in our views, after all?"
The merchant looked at her with his pleasant eyes.
" You didn't sleep well last night!" he said, in his calm, practical way.
Mrs. Townsend confessed that she had not.
" Ah!" laughed her husband, " that's it. I notice that people
are apt to be very thoughtful on such subjects, after a broken
night. You are weak, my dear. That's all. Lay down and
take a little rest, and you will feel better.  With returning
strength, will come back your confidence. We are all right,
depend upon it!"
"Perhaps you are right, John.  At all events, I'll lay down."
"I am going to take a run over to Trenton," said the merchant, 1" to see one of our customers who has failed and made
an assignment, doing us out of some thirty-three hundred. I'll
be back about six, when I shall look to find you more cheerful.
So, good-bye, my dear, and make yourself comfortable. Next




WHICH: THE  RIGHT, OR THE  LEFT.               507
week, if you say so, we'll take a jaunt to Virginia, where you will
rejuvenate and get rid of all this nonsense."
"Well, take care of yourself," said his wife, tenderly, and
I'll be as cheerful as I can on your return."
The old gentleman kissed her, and went his way, disturbed,
in spite of himself, at what he termed the lowness of her spirits.
Mrs. Townsend laid down, as she had promised, but without
finding any relief. In fact, her thoughts took a severer range
than before. They were no longer mere misgivings-they were
so many accusing witnesses.
" Yes," she murmured, uneasily, " the system is false; I know
it-feel it.  But I must not think so now, or I shall go mad.
I'll think of it when 1 get stronger; yes, when I am stronger.
To-Inorrow, perhaps.  Yes, to-morrow: for things like this
ought not to be delayed. Yes, to-morrow!"
Ah! poor lady, how long have you been saying this?  For
how many times, and how many years? To-morrow-ever tomorrow!
The old lady called her attendant, and said to her, in a feeble
voice6Get a stupid book, Susan-the most stupid one you can
find-and come and read me to sleep.  Make haste.  I am suffering!"
The attendant took up a dull, heavily written history of the
early races of mankind, and seating herself beside her mistress,
commenced reading.
The history of the early races was not long in answering
the object of its reader. It had all the essential qualities of a
soporific. Long ere the attendant had reached the close of the
first chapter, her mistress slept, with every intellectual faculty
wrapped in calm, dreamless repose.
The girl then descended to the library, and selected a French




508      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
novel, to reward herself for her arduous labor upon the history
of the early races.
An hour glided by, and then another, and yet another. The,
French novel was very interesting, and the attendant forgot all
about time. At length, however, she put down her book and
approached her mistress. The latter was still asleep; calm, pale,
and motionless-but too calm, and too pale, not to disturb the
girl, who remembered that she was of late restless and uneasy
in her slumbers. She therefore approached the old lady, and
laid her hand softly upon her forehead. It was cold!
The spirit had passed away from that old, feeble form, while
she slept, as a dream glides away from the mind.
But the thing that was to have been looked into  ON THE
MORROW!
The merchant was shocked at the discovery, on his return:
shocked, as a man naturally would be under the circumstances.
A few days, however, brought him all right again-because he
was a man of a practical mind.
"After all," he would say, in his practical way," what is all
this humbug about death? Stuff-mere stuff!  When a man's
body is worn out, he must go-that's all. Life won't stay in an
exhausted body-it can't; the animal vigor isn't there to sustain
it; the wheels won't work, and the man must travel-that's all.
He'd stay, if he could; but when his body won't let him, how
can he help himself? No, he must start then, by the first train.
To be sure, clergymen and writers make a great fuss about
the matter, and succeed in frightening some weak-headed people,
because it pays them to do so. But what do they know about
it, more than any one else? They are imaginative fellowsnothing more; and we all know what paltry stuff imagination
is. Practical minds laugh at such rubbish. Death? Humbug
-all humbug! Why, only look at it once. Face it, manfully,




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               509
in a sound, practical way; grapple with it, as you would with
any one of the every-day realities of life! And what does it
amount to, with all their pother? Simply to this: a mere dissolution of the body. Nothing more. That's what it is, when
faced down by a plain, common-sense mind, and I don't pretend
to any more. The body breaks up and dissolves into gases,
which strengthen and enrich the earth -that's all. If the dead
man has a soul, as they call it, it goes somewhere; if he has
no soul, it don't go anywhere. There's the whole story in a nutshell, as examined by the light of common sense. To be sure,
certain persons will tell you of the comfort which they find in
religion. I had a very fine young man with me once, by the name
of Samuel Leland, who used to talk very eloquently upon it,
and who succeeded in persuading a great many over to the same
opinion-but, after all, what does that argue? The human heart
is so happily constituted that it can find comfort in any thing.
Some find it in a large business, some in a small one, others in
dress, others in pleasure, and others, again, in religion. But after
all, sir, the only solid comfort is in that which enables you to
feel the ground under you, to buy what you please, go where you
please, do as you please, and whack whom you please, because
you have got the raw material in your pocket to pay for itIoNE! That, sir, is the legitimate article.  Who has it in
plenty, is solid, sir-solid.  Rocks can't move him! Show me
an imaginative man, and I'll show you, in him, a fellow who can't
pay his notes. Why, sir, one good practical man could buy up
a thousand such, any'day, and not feel that he had done much,
either.  No-the only substantial comfort is in Money-THAT
is what I call practical comfort. lHa! ha! Something in that
-hey, sir?"
Sixty-five - sixty-six!  How steadily, how mercilessly, the
pendulum of human life ticks on! If some smart mind would
but devise a plan by which the clock of man's day could be put




510      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
back from sixty-six to thirty, now! What millions would flow
in to him! Or, if some sharp Yankee would but invent a machine which would enable a sixty-six man to always remnain at
sixty-six. That would do!
I-low much more honestly a man will think at sixty-six than
at sixty-five! The idea smites him then-steals in upon him,
as it were, and hits him, suddenly, like a fierce, rude blow from
the hand of some sneaking, cowardly bruiser-that he is one
year nearer to his jumping-off place, and-he don't like it!
Well, the thought isn't pleasant-is it?  Particularly if one is
by no means satisfied of where he will land wlihen he takes his
leap! If a man has such a thing as a soul, as our old friend,
John P. Townsend, used to say, it goes sonmewhere —THREN. Eh?
And he is likely-very likely-to find it out. Eh'  But if he
only discovers the fact of his soul's existence after he has taken
his jump! Eh?
What an insidious serpent Rheumatism is! IHow gently, quietly,
and stealthily it creeps in upon a man, and snugly ensconces itself
in some inconvenient corner of his body-never making its
presence known until it is so firmly rooted that it can laugh at
all efforts of its victim to dislodge it. Then, old boy, look out!
Don't move your arm too freely; if you do, you will feel something in your shoulder. Pull on your glove gently; if you
don't, you will feel something in your fingers. Be careful how
you draw on that stocking, or you will-ah-ugh!  Holloa!
what are you about?  My leg-my toes. Agh! Some liniment-quick, rascal! Now bathe it-flanfiel it-soothe it down,
gently. There-that's better.  Now, rascal, remember what
you are doing in future.  There's a dollar for you, you clog.
But if you ever serve me in that careless way again, I'll break
every bone in your body. Ah-ugh-there it is again. Oh! this
is terrible. Ah! it's easing off a little. There — it's better.
Get me a glass of wine —I'm exhausted!




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                  511
Sixty-six —sixty-seven 
Old gentleman not quite so hearty.  Begins to think that his
system  is undergoing a change, not for the better.  Ha-Is a su:spicion that if he withdrew  frolm the cares and excitements of
business, it would be " better for himi."  Don't like to do so,
however-feels that he has a fond affection for the old house and
its interests; enjoys the pride of being the head of so vast an
establishment.  But health-that is to say-life!
Ah! life before business. Sells out to old partner, and —retires.
Finds, however, that retirement don't suit him.  Feels the
need of excitement, but thinks the feverish excitement of business
would be too exciting.  Joins a riding-school; but discovers that
that won't do: his system can't stand it.  Is told that a certain
gymnasium does wonders for old men —rejuvenates them, reanimates, re-endows them  with amazing animal vigor.  Bravely
determines to give it a trial for one year.  Pays a twelvemonth's
fees, has a gymnast's suit made, and —breaks down, desptairingly,
in the first lesson. Discovers that his system is knocked up, and
concludes that rest would be the best thing for him. Determines
on rest.
Finds that his housekeeper is not a companion.  Misses his
wife; thinks she might have done better than to die and leave
him-misses her very much.  Got along, miserably enough, after
her death, even with the assistance of business excitement to
divert him; but now, now that he is confined to the house, feels
her absence.
Realizes the want of a companion; of one who will understand
him, nurse him, and —take care of him.  Watches housekeeper,
to see if she would answer —notices her carefully; observes that
she is a mere block —cold, selfish, and-occasionally impertinent.
Concludes that she won't do.
Reflects.  Converses with his friends, who suggest to him the
propriety of his marrying some young woman.  Old gentleman
r-C~~IVD)I V*IL)-II~~~*_L ~L~Z~~V.*~\Ij V~I~  I V —LCIV




512       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
shakes his head-thinks no young woman would like to marry an
old man like him. Friends reply that it is quite common for young
women to marry worn-out old men, on condition that the latter
pay them well, and leave them a stipulated proportion of their
property in their wills. Retired merchant ponders the matter
over, and thinks he won't do anything of the kind. And yet he
perceives that he must have some one to take care of him.
Notices that housekeeper is throwing out lures to entrap him;
but pretends not to perceive them. Is privately of the opinion
that he hates THAT woman.
Housekeeper changes her tactics, and does all she can to make
old gentleman miserable. Removes his little comforts-gradually
brings the servants round to pay little or no attention to any one
but herself. Makes old gentleman feel the want of some one to
look after him. Puts on airs-imperious ones, as if she were
the mistress of the mansion and of its owner's destiny.  Old
gentleman apparently submits-meanwhile thinks, and-lays his
plans.
One day housekeeper is surprised by the appearance of three
young blacks; brave, oily, crafty fellows, whose special business
is to guard the interests and protect the comforts of old gentleman. One is to attend the door in the place of the old porter,
who is kicked out; to faithfully deliver all letters, and see that
none are-intercepted.  (Housekeeper winces, and turns pale;
perceives that she has made a-mistake!) Second is to take up
the letters and visitors' cards, deliver them to the third, and
perform all the errands which the latter may order. Third is to
wait upon old gentleman himself; watch him, nurse him, take
care of him.
Neither John - number one, William —number two, nor
Robert-number three, are to pay any attention to housekeeper,
whatever; but the latter and all hands shall give implicit obedience to Robert-number three.  Housekeeper indignant, but




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                513
cool; knows she is well paid, and thinks that that is worth
remembering. Concludes to play the amiable.
Old gentleman chuckles at the result; and thinks he has at
length got everything fixed to his mind. Finds out, however, in a
few weeks, that Robert is somewhat disposed to regard himself
as an individual of great consequence.  In tfact, the new regime
is simply a change in bullies. Old gentleman gets excited, and
privately concludes that of the two, he would rather be under
petticoat rule; but is so well broken in by both parties, that he
does not deern it advisable to make his opinion known.  Meanwhile, he thinks, and is at length struck with an idea, which fills
him with joy. Hurrah! he sees his way at last! a beautiful idea.
Why did it not occur to him before?  He writes" MY DEAR MIRIAM —I  want a housekeeper; one who will take
charge of my house, and of its owner; one who understands me,
and who will be to me at once a daughter and a friend.  Come,
my dear niece, come and be my heir.  Think-a million for
simply taking care, a few years, of    YOUR OLD UNCLE."
A few days, and he receives an affectionate letter, stating that
the writer would come cheerfully, not for his money's sake, but
for his own, and in acknowledgment of the many years of kindness which she had experienced while under his guardianship and
the shelter of his roof; but that, owing to the age and infirmities
of her parents, whose delicate health requires her constant attention, and to the necessity of watching over the education of Ada,
her daughter, she was unable to do so. In case, however, he
should ever be taken with illness, she would then consider it a
duty to fly to his assistance.
Old gentleman very much disturbed by this letter, which
upsets all his hopes.  Becomes despondent.  Wonders what
money is good for, since even a million won't tempt the only
22*




514       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
being that he loves in the world to come and take care of him.
If she only would come, how comfortably, how very comfortably,
he would get along!
The days roll by gloomily. Black man gradually tightens
the rein. Old gentleman becomes restive, and thinks of rebelling; but black man's eye is on him-menacingly: old gentleman apparently gives in, and-ihinks. Sends for Mr. Crittenden, talks with him in a low tone, which black man don't like.
hMr. Crittenden retires, and black man looks sulky. In an hour
Mr. Crittenden returns, accompanied by a young Englishman who
has been strongly recommended to him for honesty, truthfulness,
and capacity: young man was brought over from London by an
English family, in whose service he had been for many years,
and who were grieved to part with him, but were compelled to
do so by their pecuniary inability to keep him. Black man
kicked out, Englishman installed; housekeeper still amiable.
Everything moves smoothly-old gentleman apparently com.fortable.
Housekeeper gradually makes up to John, the new man, who
is young, but " knows on which side his bread is buttered," and is
therefore rather shy.  Housekeeper, however, is artful, and
works upon him step by step-entrapping him at length. Housekeeper and new man concoct a plan to inveigle old gentleman
into marrying the former, who will then " send old gentleman off"
right speedily, and marry John, who will then be rich. Meanwhile, both harmoniously agree that, as the best devised schemes
are frequently thwarted by simple and unlooked-for incidents,
that they might as well provide against all contingencies by
each making it a special business to do all in their power to prevent the old gentleman from leaving too much.
Old gentleman very much disturbed by his rheumatism, as well
as at the changes which are going on in his system. Wonders
if there is such a thing as punishment in the future, after all?




WHTCH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              515
Jiopes not, any how. Makes an heroic effort to consider that sort
of thing mere bosh, which preachers deal out for so much per
annum. Thinks the Universalist doctrine, that all, men will be
saved because Christ died for all, a very reasonable and comforting one. But then SAMUEL had a different opinion; and Miriam
holds to Samuel's view, and Mr. Crittenden also, viz., —that
heaven is only to be attained through repentance and faith in the
atoning blood of Christ, and that without these, there is but one
destination for the soul -HELL!
Old gentleman very much distressed. Don't like to believe
in that doctrine. It isn't pleasant. According to it, man's principal business on earth would be, not to make money, but toprepare for heaven. " Fudge —ridiculous-tell that to children!"
Housekeeper comes in, and is very amiable.
"Mrs. Rodgers, what do you think of the future?"
Housekeeper knows old gentleman's sentiments very well,
and answers accordingly. She thinks all men will be saved.
Old gentleman agrees with her, and wonders how he ever disliked a woman who held such liberal views!
Housekeeper talks with him a little while, and then retires,
leaving a good impression behind.
Old gentleman's system grows no better; rheumatism adds
its torments, and old gentleman thinks hb will be compelled ere
long to take to his bed, and —stay there.  Meanwhile grows irritable, and finds some small relief in call ng John a rascal, and
the housekeeper a vixen, both of whom -wonder whether he suspects anything.
Sunny morning. Old gentleman cheerful. For a week housekeeper has been exceedingly amiable, which has left an impression upon the mind of old gentleman, viho remarks to John,
that she is very good to him of late. John laughs, and winkingly
replies that he thinks he comprehends the re:ason. Old gentleman
would like to know it.  John is under the impression that




516      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
housekeeper is troubled in the heart about some one-she is all
the time sighing.  Old gentleman is smilingly incredulous; but
John knows it —yes, sir, knows it.
Old gentleman looks in the glass, and begins to spruce up;
thinks that he has been giving himself a great deal of useless
anxiety, and that he isn't so very old, after all.
New man thinks so too-yes, sir, he has been thinking so h'all
h'along!
Old gentleman laughs, throws him a dollar, tells him  to go
away with his nonsense, and attempts to cut a caper, but is immediately brought down to a realizing sense of his actual situation by a fierce, sharp shock of his old enemy-rheumatism.
Screarms with pain; housekeeper runs in, very much concerned;
learns his trouble, and orders John to bathe him gently with the
liniment, and departs, with an air of anguish, audibly regretting
that she is not in a position to take care of the poor dear sufferer
herself. Old gentleman looks after her, thinks her an. angel of
mercy, and-sighs. John turns his head, and —-laughs.
Old gentleman persists, however, in sprucing up.  But gloomy
November days come along, and his spirits decline.  Wonders
if the soul has any existence at all, after death.  Hopes it hasn't,
that is, in case the Universalist idea that all men will be saved
should not be true.
" John, what is your candid opinion about the future?  Does
a man dissolve into gases, and so become extinct, or what?"
"I have never given the subject much consideration, sir.  But
I think he does P'
" Does what, rascal?"
"Vanish into gases, sir!" returns John, on a venture.
"But his soul, rascal-his soul?"
"Ah! sir, I have never given myself any trouble about that!"
"Why not?"
"Because-because-yes, sir? because!"




WiHICH': THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              517
"Because what, rascal?"
"Because nobody does, sir; or if they pretend to, it's only for
show, sir. Why, only look at it, sir. The minister preaches a
serinon on charity, which is so very affecting that it makes the
congregation weep like little children.  Well, sir, the very next
day a poor woman or child knocks at that very minister's door,
and says —' A shilling, or a piece of bread, sir; I'm starving.'
And what does the minister say, sir-he who preached so eloquently the day before on charity? Just this, sir —' Go away,
good woman, and don't come here any more; if you do, I'll
call the police.' The same way with the congregation, sir;
only instead of saying they'll call the police, they tell the poor
thing,. rudely, to'clear out!' The same way in everything else,
sir.' We ought to be humble and pious,' says the minister.' Yes, we must be humble and pious,' say his hearers, and they
go home-the minister to congratulate himself upon his eloquence and sumptuous living, the congregation to prepare for
another week of knavery, and routes, and show, and pride."
" Too true, John-too true. They are humble and pious only
one day in the week."
"' That's it, sir-only one day in the week. Now, if the minister believed what he preaches, sir, he'd act up to it —wouldn't
he, sir. And if his congregation believed it, they'd act up to it,
too. But neither of'em does, sir; which goes to prove that if
neither of them believe in it, I needn't believe in it, either!"
" Right, rascal-right. It is so, it must be so; or all the world
wouldn't act so."
"That's it, sir-that's just -what I say, too. And therefore,
sir, the idea that what nobody believes in or acts up to can be
true, is all gammon, sir."
"I almost agree with you, rascal.  It does look so, indeed!"
"And, sir," said the new man, "that brings us back to where
we started from."




518      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
" Where was that, John?"
"To the gases, sir. We do all dissolve into gases, sir, and
that's the end of us!"
"You are a very sensible man, John," said the old gentleman,
rejoicing to find his uneasy doubts so triumphantly removed,
"and there's a dollar for you!"
John smiles, and old gentleman thinks he will lay down and
take a nap. Servant enters with a letter, and gives it to new
man, who hands it to his master, who, notwithstanding his conversation with John, feels the very reverse of comfortable. Breaks the seal, and glancing over the letter, mumbles"So, from  Enfield. Ha! from  Miriam. Dear girl; I was
afraid she had forgotten me! Let me see. Mum-mum-Ada
well, and rich in spiritual promise-mum-mum-Mr. Leland
confined to his bed, but cheerful, resigned, happy-mum-mum.
Mrs. Leland cheerful, fond, happy-mum-both waiting for the
blissful hour when they shall rejoin their and our dear Samuelmum-mum-Aunt Betsy —ripe old age-cheerful-tranquilhappy —mum-mum —mum-I am myself happy-mum —rejoice to learn that our dear friend, Mr. Crittenden, is well, and
doing so much good for the cause of Our Prince —mum-it is a
blessing to be rich, it enables us to do so much good —mummum-dear uncle, how is it with you —all well within?  Do
tell me —father, mother, Aunt Betsy, Ada, and I pray for you
every night —mum —your loving Miriam!"
"Anything the matter, sir?"
"Eh?"
"Bad news, sir 1"
"What?"
"I was fearful something had happened, sir, seeing your lids
were wet!"
"Are they-are they, John?"




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              519
"Yes, sir —very wet —very! Shall I help you to some drink,
sir 2"
"Ye-yes —a little wine-just a drop. A man's memories
will come up, and his feelings work up, sometimes, John! Take
care of me —take good care of me, John-and you will find your
name and a nice little sugar-plum, in a certain document, one of
these days."
" You are very good, sir; and I am very much obliged to
you, I am sure. Cheer up, sir! you are worth fifty common
men yet!"
"Do you think so, John — you jolly dog! - do you really
think so 2 Really?"
"Really, sir. I know it!"
"Do you, though! There's an eagle for you, rascal. Now go
away; I want to sleep."
Dusk-night-dawn. Invalid pale, feeble, and covered with
cold moisture.
"How do I look this morning, John 2"
" Like a top, sir. Eyes bright, skin clear-at least ten years
younger, sir."
" But it appears to me I've been sweating, John?"
"' All right, sir; showing that you've had a desperate struggle
with your rheumatism, and come off conqueror."' I don't know about that! I've a singular sensation."
"What sort of a sensation, sir?"
"As if my system was breaking up."
"Take a glass of wine, sir."
"' No; put it back, and send for the doctor."
Doctor comes, prescribes a powder, which patient takes, and
thinks he feels much better. Housekeeper very amiable, and so
wears away a week: when the sun bursts out, and the atmosphere
clears up, and becomes milder. Old gentleman much stronger,
and inclined to believe that he will come out all right, yet.




620      WHICH: TIE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
But the gloomy days come again, and the poor old gentleman's uneasiness returns. Thinks that there may be a heaven
and a hell, and that the ministers may not be so far out of the
way, after all. Turns again to John, who reassures him that the
soul business is all gammon, and that when a man dissolves into
gases, that's the end of him. Old gentleman gives him a dollar
for the consolation, for which new man thanks him very much.
Meanwhile, housekeeper grows killingly amiable. Old gentleman grows more and more convinced that she is a very excellent, affectionate, and, as she entertains the same views with
himself in reference to the gases, right-minded woman. Finds
himself, at least once a day, tempted to make her an offer of his
hand.
" I want some one to look after me," he thinks, and justly;
" some one who understands me. John is very good in his way,
and does all he can to make me comfortable; but then he hasn't
the quick eye, the noiseless, quiet tread, nor the ready hand of
a woman.  Women understand these matters better than men.
There are a thousand little things in managing an old, sick man,
which a man would never think of, but which come to women
intuitively. Men are but clumsy things in these matters.  I
must have a nurse-yes, sooner or later, it must come to that.
Mrs. Rodgers, now, appears to take a deep interest in me; and
if I could only persuade myself that she would not desert me,
tyrannize over me, or neglect me, after marriage, I'd settle the
matter at once. But —"
He broke off here. He could not bring himself to a belief
in the genuineness of the housekeeper's goodness. He made an
effort to do so, for several days, but could not succeed. He
remembered her conduct before the arrival of the blacks, and
shuddered.
"After all," he murmured,' there is no principle except that
which is based upon religion."




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.              521
And he thought of the principle which governed Samuel and
Miriam, and sighed.
In contrast with these two pure beings, loomed up before him
the two hollow creatures who pandered, daily, to his own unfounded and delusive thoughts.
"May I come in?" said, near him, at this juncture, a low
voice, which was intended to be very sweet and alluring.
The old gentleman started, as if he had heard the hiss of a
serpent. He surveyed the housekeeper for a moment or two
with an air of measureless loathing, and then said" Begone, and never set foot in my presence again till I send
for you. Go!" he added, with an imperious gesture.
Mrs. Rogers turned pale, bit her lip, and hurling at him  a
threatening glance, retired, without closing the door behind her.
" So," mused the old gentleman, noticing her glance, "she has
hoisted her true colors. But let her beware-I am not wholly
powerless, yet i" He paced his chamber in deep thought, utterly
unconscious of the agitated state of his frame. From  the
abstractedness of his air, it was evident that he was pursuing an
idea. At length he reached that point where thought terminates
in decision. "Well,' he muttered, audibly, and with an energy
which had of late been a stranger to him, "there shall be no
more of this. I'll end it at once!"
He passed, with a step which might have been considered
firm, but for a certain slight quivering in his joints, from  the
apartment, and descended to the drawing-room. As he drew
near the door, he overheard the words" The old fool shall pay for this. I-I'll strangle him in his
sleep!"
It was the voice of the housekeeper.
" No you won't, madam," said her master, gliding into the
apartment. "You will have time to think better of it!"
The guilty woman started, and turned pale.




522       WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Is it you, sir." she said, recovering herself quickly, and
assuming a fawning tone. "Why, how well you look! You are
quite recovered."
"John!" said her master, sternly.
"Yes, sir!" returned that worthy, with the air of a thief
caught in the act.
"Show that woman to the door!"
"Sir!" stammered John, scarcely knowing how to act.  "If
I obey him, she will blab, and I'm ruined; if I do not obey,
he will kick me out, and then I'm equally done for!" he muttered.
Mrs. Rodgers saw that her game was up, and eyeing the old
gentleman with an air of mingled hatred and defiance, she said"Miserable, cowardly dotard! take back that order, or-"
"John!" interrupted the retired merchant,' take that woman
and throw her into the street!"
" Fool! he will not dare-"
But Mrs. Rodgers was mistaken. John did dare. Of the two
dangers, he wisely chose the least.  "The master to the woman!"
he muttered, taking the astounded housekeeper by the shoulder
with one hand, and, to prevent her from using her tongue, suddenly and rudely covering her mouth with the other. Then, with
a quick, energetic movement, he forced her first into the hall, and
from thence into the street.
" Now, traitress!" he said, with a mocking laugh, as he reclosed
the door, "yell away, and I hope it will do you good!"
"Throw her things after her!" said his master, sternly.
John called one of the servants, and hurried up to the housekeeper's room, from which he presently returned with a large
trunk, followed by his companion with a large swagging
bundle of frocks, shawls, and hats, all of which were flung out,
after their owner, who was standing upon the walk and glaring
up at the door like an infuriated tigress.




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                523
"Pen, ink, and paper!" said Mr. Townsend, when John returned.
They were brought, and placed upon the centre-table.
The retired merchant sat down and wrote a single line.
"DEAR MIRIAM-Come to me, as you promised. I am ill."
It was as he had foreseen. The excitement of the last half
hour upon his feeble frame terminated in prostration.
In forty-eight hours, Miriam stood at the bedside of her uncle,
who was in'a raging fever.
Miriam was changed from a slender, delicate girl of twenty,
to a handsome, matronly woman of thirty-three.  Her form was
more developed than when in youth, but so charmingly rounded
as to intensify its beauty.  Her face was full, but of a fair.
polished smoothness, which rendered it at once impressive and
majestic. Her dark hair, parted over her mild but earnest forehead, unblemished by spot or wrinkle, fell in a smooth, modest
mass down either cheek, from whence it curved off to, and over,
her small, symmetrical ears. A straight, flat collar, confined by
a ribbon, revealed a faint glimpse of a throat and neck white as
ivory, and of exquisite chiselling. She wore a black velvet
basque, or jacket, of black velvet, which developed a bust of rare
gracefulness, modesty, and symmetry, and which closed over a
flowing skirt of plain silk of the same ebon hue. Her small
hands, with their plump but tapering fingers, were in keeping with
her complexion, which was of a dazzling, yet transparent whiteness.  Over her features still lingered that mingled tone of calmn
serenity and thoughtful earnestness which rendered her so winning
in her earlier days. Her general air was that of one whose
pious mind never descended to an unworthy thought.
Miriam's presence was electrical. A few days worked wonders in the disorganized household.  Chaos vanished -order




524        WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
came back; and quiet reigned, and comfort. The old gentleman
smiled gratefully upon his niece.
"Dear Miriam," he said, pressing her hand, affectionately,'" how I recognize the hallowing influence of your gentle spirit!"
"Don't flatter your poor Mirry, uncle, for a merit not her
own!"
" Not her own!" repeated the invalid, feebly. "Whose, then?"
"; His i" answered his niece, with a reverent gesture.
The old gentleman sighed. Miriam descended to the drawingroom to receive some visitors who desired to learn the state of
the invalid's health, while the invalid himself dropped off into a
revery, at the close of which he sent for his attorney and Mr.
Crittenden. The trio were closeted for upward of two hours,
carrying on their conversation in low tones, much to the annoyance of the new man John, who, although he listened very carefully at the key-hole, could only make out three facts, viz.: that
the old gentleman was making his will, that he was leaving over
a million, and that he was constituting his niece as his sole heir.
A few days passed on, and the invalid was apparently better,
although by no means in a condition to leave his bed.  Nevertheless, he felt comfortable. A sense of security stole over him
as he looked at Miriam.  HIe felt that in her he had one who
would. "be good to him," from a nobler motive than interest.
He flattered himself that if there was such a thing as spiritual
danger, the purity of that simple heart would do something in
his favor.
They conversed together daily upon general topics, butnow could it be otherwise with Miriam?-mainly upon religion;
the old gentleman-partly from habit, partly from a desire to
conceal his life-long hypocrisy from his niece, and partly from
an unwillingness to take a stand against statements which nzight
be true, after all-always siding with Miriam, with a calm,
matter-of-course air, as if he fully shared in her sentiments; and




WHICH: TIlE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.               525
always carefully omitting the most distant reference to the gases.
And yet the old gentleman was sensible that he was doing himself a great wrong by this course; but-habit-habit!
"Never mind," he wvould mutter, by way of consoling himself,
"I will pluck up one of these days, and face the subject like a
man.  I am  mending now in health, and when I get perfectly
well —as I certainly shall do under AMiriam's kind treatment —I'll
make a calm, honest examination of the matter, and abide by
the result.  Yes-one of these days!"
In the meanwhile he had his fears, and found it necessary to
resort to John for consolation; which the latter was always
ready to administer.
"John," the invalid would say, whenever his niece was called
away by her other duties from  his bedside, "you heard what
Mrs. Leland said in the course of her remarks 3."
"' Yes, sir-every word."
" Well, what have you got to say now 2"
John understood his master very well, and considered it his
policy to be consistent.
"': The same as before, sir."
" I am amazed at you, rascal!"
"' Can't help that, sir.  I stick to my own views, because they
are founded upon common sense."
"Yes, John," said the old gentleman, waveringly; "but it
appears to me that my niece's views are based upon common
sellse, also!"
" Not a bit of it, sir," returned John, who saw how his master
desired to be answered, and shaped his reply accordingly. " They
are founded only upon Scripture, and that, as all the world knows,
is all gammon. I don't pretend to be any wiser than the world,
Sir!"
"Well, but John-don't you see how happy my niece is in
her belief? Don't you see that, rascal 2"




526     WHICH: THE RIGHT, crR THE LEFT.
" Lord love you, sir, we can be happy in any belief, if we only
do believe in it. That's all that is required, sir, depend upon it!"
"Perhaps you are right, John —perhaps you are right!"
returned his master, persuading himself, but very faintly, that he
believed, very firmly, in his doctrine; and yet wondering how
it was that he didn't feel so very, very happy.
Sixty-seven-sixty.eight.
HIow merciless is Time! Never pausing, not even for an old
man, but rolling on, driving on, hurrying on, as if bent upon
forcing him, whether he be ready or no, into the yawning loam.
"When one gets old," mused the invalid, attempting to enliven himself with a small, sad joke, "he don't like to be hurried!
What he then wants is rest! Here I am pushed on to sixtyeight. Why, it was only yesterday that I was fifty. By the same
rule, I shall be sixty-nine in less than half an hour! Well-well;
that rascal, Time, is without a conscience, or he would never
press a poor old fellow in. this manner. Sixty-eight?  I could
never have believed it. And yet I feel very well this morning,
too! But sixty-eight! If some one would but push me back again
to fifty, or so! Fifty! What a prime age-so full of mental ripeness and physical nerve! Dear me-what a man I was at fifty!
So strong in mind, and body, and business, and-money! And
now! Well, well! I'm older, a little older; that's all. I shall
see ninety, yet-yes, ninety. What a prime old codger I'll be
at that age! Wonder if I shall have any teeth left then, or hair!
Some of the nineties don't!"
The sun was shining (the old gentleman was fond of the sun),
the air was bright, clear, and invigorating, and the old gentleman
was very happy, and-sixty-eight!
But the next day was cold and cloudy, and the old gentleman
was silent, meditative, and gloomy.
"John!"
"Yes, sir."




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.                527
"Are you quite, quite sure about the gases 2'
"Quite sure, sir! I'm confident of everything that's got good
sense to back it!"
Old gentleman shakes his head in doubt.
" But here comes Mrs. Leland, sir!"
" Then, John, go you away.  Go down stairs, John. I shall
not want you again till noon; for Mrs. Leland will stay with
me till then. Go down stairs, John."
"Yes, sir."  John vanishes, as Miriam enters.' Good-morning, uncle. How did you rest during the night?"
" Quite well, my dear. But I don't feel very bright this morning. Sit down here, and talk to me."
Miriam seats herself by the bedside, and surveys the old gentleman with an air of mingled tenderness and solicitude.
"How do you feel at heart, uncle?  Is all well, within?"
Old gentleman don't like to expose himself, and pretends not
to have heard her. Is suddenly touched with an idea.
"Miriam, my dear, what was that strange conceit of Aunt
Betsy's, of which you were telling me 2"
"That every family has its appointed year or period, beyond
which its members rarely or never go."
"A singular notion.  Have you any faith in it yourself, my
dear."
"I presume it to be true in the main, uncle.  Aunt Betsy
keeps a private record of the ages of our Enfield families, and it
certainly bears out her theory."
"Indeed?  Be kind enough to get our old family Bible, and
let us see how the Townsends run!" said her uncle, with a faint
smile.
Miriam took the volume, and turning to the family record,
commenced reading:"' John Townsend, son of William, died January 12 V50,
aged 37 years.'"




528     WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
"Ah! yes," remarked her uncle, "he was killed by the Indians.  But never mind the young fellows, who perished by
accident, or disease.  Read only of those who'held out,' as
Aunt Betsy expresses it,' to the regular time.'  Run through
the record with your pencil, and then read them off, omitting
everything but the names and ages. Now," he said, when his
request had been followed, " now go on."
"'William  Townsend,'" began Miriaml  "'aged sixty-eight
years and ninety days. Francis, second son of William, sixtyeight years and twenty days.  Rachel, daughter of William,
sixty-five years and forty-seven days.  Joseph, son of Francis,
sixty-eight years and twelve days.  Charles, son of Francis —'
" My father," mused the listener, pricking up his ears.
"'Sixty-eight years and seven days'"' (old gentleman starts).''Edward, son of Charles, sixty-eight years and three days.'"
(Old gentleman white as a sheet.)  "'Joseph, son of Charles,
sixty-eight years and nine days. Elizabeth, daughter of Charles,
sixty-seven years and fifty days.'"
Old gentleman pale and speechless-his eyes glaring with
terror.
Miriam agitated, but calm. Rings bell for assistance and the
doctor. The latter comes, surveys patient, prescribes a powder,
and retires, shaking his head while descending the stairs. Old
gentleman comes to, and feels better towards evening. Miriam
is fearful, and sends for Mr. Crittenden, both of whom spend
the night with the old gentleman; praying for him while he is
yet awake, and praying for him while he sleeps.
Morn comes, and finds the Christian watchers at their posts.
Invalid wakes up much better. Watchers survey and talk with
him a little while, and then finding him apparently mending, retire for a few hours' sleep-John and female servant taking their
places.
The sun is shining, and old gentleman feels somewhat stronger.




MWHICH: THIE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             529
Thinks, however, that a change is taking place ill his system,
but is not quite sure.  Has an idea that a torpor is settling
around his feet; but is not certain. Tells John of it, who,
assisted by his fellow-servant, rubs the affected part with liniment, after which invalid thinks he is fresher and more comfortable than for many days. Becomes meditative, and is disturbed
ere long by serious thoughts.  Begins to think the gases all
fudge, and the Scriptures solemnly true. Is startled at length
by an admonishing voice within him:
" Old man, old man —what art thou doing? Be up, be up,
and stirring: for this is thy last year. It is thy soul, thy SOUL
that's speaking. Be up, sir-be up and stirring.  If thou hast
any thinking to do-think it at once, and quickly.  If thou hast
any resolve to make-make it at once, and bravely.  If thou
hast any words to say, say them at once and firmly. Wake up,
old man —wake up.  For thou hast reached thy fiamily's closing
year. Wake up, old man-wake up!"
Old gentleman very much disturbed.  "Yes," he mutters,
firmly, and in alarm, " I will-I will. I'll think of it, and face
it, bravely, like a man, the first thing to-morrow!"
To-morrow? Ah-habit, habit! 
"' John-"
"Yes, sir."
"Rub my feet and legs again with the liniment, and then
bolster me up comfortably. My head aches with lying down
so much."
"Yes, sir."  In a few minutes:  "All right now, sir?"
"Yes.  Now go over there by the window, and don't talk,
John.  I want to think. When I want you, I'll call for you."
John takes up paper and reads-fellow-servant takes up a
book, and in ten minutes old gentleman is forgotten.
Old gentleman is thinking. Memory has come back in all its
freshness. He sees himself in the old school-room beneath tho
24q




630     WYHICHi: THE RIGHT, OR T:HE LEFT.
church once more, with his mates around him, and the old teacher
behind the desk; anon rollicking over the green, climbing the
neighboring hills, gunning in the woods, listening on the Sabbath
morning to the summons of the old church bell. The dear old
days of innocence, truthfulness, and-happiness.
Young manhood. He has reached the city, and commenced
his man's career. His brow  grows cloudy-at what?  The
memory of his first business lie! He feels again the guilty
blush which came up with it, and the hot glow which darted like
a low fire through his veins.
Middle manhood. In business on his own account. Plansbad ones-laid down, and followed out. Marries-joins the
Church, affects piety for lucre, and-a long train of years, made
up of an equally long traiin of lies, hypocrisies, and little mean
frauds. Old gentleman horrified. But he will repent-yes, he
will repent-he will. When? To-morrow.
Torpor coming back to his feet again. Makes a sign. John
and the woman approach; the liniment does its work, and
old gentleman feels a little better, once more. But not long.
The torpor is returning, and this time in a cold, crampy way,
which fills the invalid with affright. A cold sweat starts out
from his brow and cheeks. His eyes enlarge staringly with a
wild, fixed air of dread-of horror.
" John —" in a tone, sharp and shrieking, and yet half broken
and half smothered —" call Mrs. Leland, Mr. Crittenden-the
doctor-quick. Don't you see-something  is the matter.
Quick!"
John flies with a "Yes, sir-keep up your heart —be back in
a moment, sir!"
The woman would follow, but cannot. She is fascinatedappalled by that tone and that countenance, so full of maniacal
terror.
"What!" cries the voice again, in a piteous moan. "It can't




\VnICH: TmIl[: RIGHT, 02 THE LEFT.          531
be —cAN it? I am not prepared for it. Oh, no-don't.  One
day more-but one, and I'll get ready!"
Mr. Crittenden enters, deeply agitated. One glance at his old
partner, and he is down upon his knees.
"Lord, Lord! have mercy upon him! O, Jesus, Prince of
Righteousness! come Thou to his rescue!"
Enter Miriam, pale and trembling.
Old gentleman struggling, confusedly, every feature alive with
terror.
Miriam and Mr. Crittenden" Lord! Lord! have mercy upon him! Jesus, Prince of Goodness! befriend this trembling soul in its parting agony. If it
be not already one of Thine, stretch out Thine arm kindly-"
Old gentleman, shrieking"Death! No —no. I am not ready. Go away. I haven't
thought of it. Away —away. It won't do —it mustn't. I-I
can't afford it —I mustn't. Give me time-a day-an hour.
Let me go, I say. I can't give in-I dare not-I will not. Ah!
help-help. There's a devil here-he's strangling me. Take
him  off.  He's got me by the throat. Help-mercy-help.
Fire-fire.  Help-help, somebody.  Take him  off-helphel-"
A fierce struggle with some invisible enemy-eyes staring in
terror-voice choking in horror-the bed-clothes rumpled and
torn, and-the IMPENITENT has taken his leap!
Charley Gibbs had a stern legal tussle with his guardian; but
he came off conqueror in the end. With the money, he purchased
a sixteenth interest in the great house of John P. Townsend: a
judicious investment, and one which he has never yet repented.
With his triumph in the lawsuit, came a union with his little Fan.
A rural cottage in a suburban village completed his felicity. He
occupies it still; and is regarded by those around him as a
good-neighbor, and a mild, pleasant, even-tempered gentleman.




532      WVHICE:  THE RIGH'r, OR THE LEFT.
We should like to say more of him, if we could; but we have
uo more to tell.
Bill Bradley's adopted mother has joined her Prince. She
was called away on a pleasant autumn evening, and set out on
her journey with a smile. She departed with the joyful knowledge that her affectionate son was in the ark of safety; and with
the equally pleasing consciousness that he was mated with one
who was worthy of him, and that he was the father of a gallant
boy who would yet do good battle for his Prince, and who gave
evidence that Be had in him the brave, earnest spirit of him whose
name he bore-Samuel. They are a happy Christian familythe manly packer, his gentle consort, and their noble boy-in the
serene features of whose mother, we recognize those of our old
friend the laundress. Pleasant is their noon; and as pleasant
will be their even: for they are of His people.
Mr. Crittenden still lives: a brave and loyal soldier to his
Prince. His heart fails not, his scrip wants not, his hand faints
not. The great house of John P. Townsend is now the great
house of R. Crittenden. It grows stronger year by year, and
it remains true to the noble principle which led to its present
gigantic trade.  Notwithstanding his vast business cares, Mr.
Crittenden finds ample time for other matters, as many, whom
want and suffering have stricken down, will gladly testify.
IIHe is somewhat in years now; but Time deals gently with him.
His tall, slender form is neither bent, nor weakened.  His hair
is somewhat silvered, but it is so delicately mingled with the
black, that it ennobles and intensifies the impressiveness of his air.
The deforming sneer has long vanished from his lip; in its place
reigns an expression of rare sweetness. His general aspect is
that of a mild, earnest-minded gentleman, whom every one would
instinctively respect, but whom any one might approach. He is
known and loved. Abounding in wealth, he scatters it freely
among the various religious, benevolent, and educational institu.




WncICH: TIlE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             50
tions of the day. Young strugglers in business, whose morial
character is without stain, find in him a ready and unwavering
friend; and many who were young strugglers once, but who are
now staunch and prosperous, regard him with an eye of affection, as one who, in their early days, helped them kindly on their
way. Young men studying for the ministry partake continually
of his means; and many of the energetic preachers of to-day are
living monuments of his timely aid in helping them through college.  Missionaries at home, and in distant lands, speak of' him
with gratitude and affection. Embarrassed churches or educational institutions never appeal to him in vain. Whenever and
wherever good can be done with money, his heart is ever eager,
his hand ever free. IHis friends sometimes chide him for what
they term his too great liberality; but he answers, gently" Why, what would you have? I am simply an humble cashier of my Lord's treasury; and when His people present their
demands, they must be paid. My Master's workmen must live,
as well as the world's. Be content: if you should yourselves
come to want, apply to me. In the meanwhile, the operations
of my Lord and Prince must ge on."
And thus, loving and loved, lihe glides down the shore of
Time; scattering his benefactions kindly, freely, yet judiciously,
on the way; and drawing nearer, day by day, to his inheritance
in The Bright Beyond.




CONC LUSION.
MAN ALONG THE PATWAY! who, absorbed in life's daily business, hast inadvertently forgotten the comforting lessons of thine
early youth, and art wandering, uneasily, thou knowest not
whither-halt, and shake off, for a moment, thy dream of
money and of little greatness, thy little hatreds and corroding
cares, thy surface piety and little pride, and call up memories of
Childhood's nobler, happier time.
Then thy lip was honest, thy smile genial, thy mind easy,
and thy heart at rest and without guile.
It was thy HOLY time.
Then thou wert a spring-bud which had not yet wholly blossomed, nor opened all thy petals to the world.
There were hours then, when God spake to thee-when thou
didst hear His voice, when thou didst feel the impress of. His
finger on thy heart.
It was through thy father's voice in prayer, thy mother's in the
hymn at even, thy teacher's in the Sabbath School, and in thy
pastor's, when he told thee and all of Him who said —"I am the
Way and the Life."
Through the seraphs who whispered thee in thy dreams, and
bade thee, throughout life's many struggles, to make thy greatest
struggle for a bright home UP THERE.
It was a season when thou wert happy-when thou wert but
a little way from an angel; when, hadst thou gone, like many of
thy mates, to a couch in the Silent Lodge, the immortal part of
thee might have taken wing for a place among the cherubs.
(584)




WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.             535
And thou wert happy, THEN-happier than ever since —than
now!
Thou hadst not then, O flower in earth's garden! thrown open
all thy petals to the world. Thou hadst not then, O heart!
wandered away, little by little, from the Right to the Left. Thou
hadst not then, O soul! set up an altar to thyself, and burned
incense daily to thine own little pride, thine own selfishness, and
thine own little greatness. Thou hadst not then set out for money
and fame, and picked up, with your dollars, little mean weaknesses, little mean hatreds, little mean jealousies, and little
mean desires to be thought a little smarter, a little better, a
little richer, a little greater, or a little braver than your fellowmen.
You were fair and artless, then-with no fretting ambition to
neutralize your thoughts of goodness, your occasional glimpse of
heaven.
Happy when you rose from your couch in the morning; happy
through the day, which was like a long sunny noon; happy when
you laid down at night to rest and to dream-with angels for
your watchers, and God for your security, till the dawn.
Ah! how happy, how guileless, and how good! And therefore
a holy time. Bless it, then, as the one lone season in your journey along The Pathway, to which you can look back without
regret's inner pain. Bless it as the hallowed and the hallowing
time when all things wore an air of loveliness, because your pure
eye saw them as they appeared, and without a lurking suspicion
of the danger or the evil that they veiled; and when your mind,
in the simplicity of its goodness, judged all men and all things
by the honest standard of Right and Wrong, and not by the cold
gauge of worldly Policy.
Happy? Yes, thrice happy. For then, in thee, was the sweet
balm of mingled innocence and simplicity; around thee, the




536      WHICH: THE RIGHT, OR THE LEFT.
refreshing odors of parental love, of pure thoughts, of truthful
utterances, and trusting confidence in God.
Why not be as happy, once again-as guileless, loving, gentle,
and confiding'
It is easy.
Turn again to the simple artlessness and honest truthfulness
of childhood-turn again to the happier time. Become again a
little child, in heart; turn again, as when a little child, to Him,
innocently, confidingly, on thy knees.
And again will come back to thee comfort; again, purity, simplicity, sweetness; again, bright pictures in hallowing dreams;
and again, seraph whispers, telling thee of dear ones whom thou
hast known and loved, who are awaiting thy coming in THE
LAND BEYOND THE STARS.
THE END.