Morning Gleam.                                      [ Frontispiece.j
PAGE 34.












MORNING-GLEAM:
OR,
TltE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.
V9titatpltia *
AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION  SOCIETY,
530 ARCH STREET.








MORNING-GLEAM:
OR,
THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.
CHAPTER I.
/(] HO that has seen much of the world
^U      has not at some time beheld a land~~,   scape so touchingly beautiful as to
awe the soul into silent admiration,
as if he were in the presence of Him
who drew its wondrous outlines, filled it with
light and shade, and then breathed the breath
of life upon it? Nor is it the refined, the intellectual, and the wise only, who feel the
magic power of Nature on their souls. The
rudest peasant finds his very heart growing
fast to his native hills, rugged though they
be; so that when exiled by poverty or politi3




4          MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
cal tyranny, he refuses to be blessed in kind.
lier scenes, and chooses to nurse the bleeding
wound  caused  by  the  separation  in  his
homesick bosom.  The Switzer, driven for
bread to the rich  prairies of our happy
country, stretches his gaze across the mighty
plains in search of one hill to relieve the
lonely sameness, but in vain. The corn may
wave almost without his toil or care, and
bring gold to his coffers; but still the tears
will fall for the glorious old mountains of
father-land, and in dreams his feet clamber
their rugged sides, while in an ecstacy of
delight he clasps the high rocks beside the
cot of his infancy, and, kissing their rugged
cheeks, he vows never, never more to lose sight
of " God's hills"-not even for bread-far less
for gold. The poor Icelander, after amusing
himself with the charms of cultivated nature
-the lawn, the park, and the lake-turns
around and with eager gaze asks, "But where
is the sea?"  Even the child loves the outdoor world, and prefers the freedom and beauty




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.            5
of Nature, even in the storm, to the ceiled
house; while the tiniest baby, who has not
power to speak its joy, claps its little hands
and shouts in bird-like notes as it gazes in
new wonder on the moon, the stars, or the
flower, and the tree.
Let none say that Nature's ministry is confined to the wise: each of God's creatures
enjoys in his own measure her teachings,
feeling  his  soul elevated, gladdened, and
purified thereby.  It was not alone to supply bread for our coarser nature that God
made this earth, with its wealth of field and
flood; it was not to satisfy our avarice that
he reared the mighty hills, filling their deep
bosoms with treasures of jewel and  mine.
Oh, no! He who made man has implanted in
the immortal mind deeper longings, which
will not, cannot be satisfied with the bread
that perisheth, and has also provided food for
that appetite. Next to seeing God himself,
and talking with him in the word of life, is
beholding him  in his works and receiving




6          MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
with grateful love the lessons he thus sends
us.
The view from Morning-Gleam Cottage was
never surpassed by artist's vision wrought
out on canvas. On either side were vast and
fruitful fields, waving in their season with
the golden grain, or velvet pastures, over
which the patient herds and happy flocks
grazed and sported through the long, glad
summer. Below, and stretching off into the
far distance, lay a valley whose rich and
undulating surface was dotted over by clumps
of elms and maples, which reflected their
quivering foliage in many a mimic lake that
glanced out beneath the sunshine, or vailed
its brightness under the cloud.
Behind the cottage, and crowning the hill
on whose side it stood, wis a grand old forest,
whose tall trees stretched out their brawny
arms as if to guard and bless the humble
dwelling. From the hill-top and also from
the upper piazza of the cottage could be seen
the noble windings of a glorious New Eng



THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        7
land river, whose praise has been sung by
more than one whom  God has anointed
poet.
The pretty cottage, with its green blinds
and its broad portico, stood in the midst
of highly cultivated grounds. Passers-bystrangers to the occupant-made many and
different comments on the place. Said one,
"If I could afford such an elegant garden, I
would build a finer house to correspond with
it." But he was answered by his companion,
"The tall, pale young man you see toiling
there does not own either cottage or grounds;
nor yet, that I know of, a square foot of land
on all God's earth."  "Then," replied the
other, "he is very unwise; the owner will be
made rich by these improvements, but never
thank him for his pains."
Farmer Grub, who owned the next place
and who counted every inch of soil as so
much money, often shrugged his shoulders
and said, "Our parson is not a practical man,
or else he'd lay down that'ere flower-garden




8          MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
to grass, or plow it up and plant it with potatoes, cabbages, and turnips. Why, if I had
that piece in my hands, I'd raise all my own
garden'sass' and sell fifty dollars worth a
year besides. And then there's that clump o'
trees down in the first gully after you go out
o' the garden-gate-why, it's three year or
more since I got'em to vote at parish-meetin'
to give that to the parson for fire-wood, for I
never did think he had enough money; and,
don't you believe, he wouldn't have'em cut,
but said he'd rather see'em  standin' than
enjoy'em burnin'. He's a dear, good, faithful man, but he ain't very practical, that's
sure."
It was very certain that the pastor, who
found early and late his exercise and recreation in that tasteful garden, was cast in another
mould from some of his more earthly-souled
hearers; but still he was to all intents and
purposes an eminently practical man; laboring in season and out of season in every
judicious way for the temporal good and the




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         9
eternal salvation of his beloved flock. He
loved the beautiful works of his Father's
hand; and every bird, leaf, and flower brought
a lesson or whispered comfort to his heart.
Thus, while he toiled for health, he received
pleasure such as the vain enjoyments.of earth
have not to offer the sons of folly
Mr. Bond was not a solitary laborer in his
garden. Sweet little Maggie, his only child,
was up with the lark, running from  bed to
bed, dropping the tiny seed or plucking the
hurtful weed, as her father directed; meanwhile delighting his fond heart with  her
innocent questions, and her childish yet sage
comments.
These were hours of the greatest enjoyment to the child; and although she often
went in to her breakfast a little weary, she
was more than repaid by the vigor and fresh
flow of spirits which followed. The happy
thoughts of her heart, the red roses on her
cheeks, the music in her soul, but, more than
all, the sweet lessons of heavenly love she




10        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
learned, were thus worth a life of labor. Her
tender mind was on these occasions led up to
God, our loving Father, who made this earth
for our home, and who causeth it to bring
forth abundantly every thing for our happiness as well as for our necessity. She loved
to hear of God, and to trace his finger in the
glorious things around her. All these became the teachers of holy things to her tender
mind, and were connected with that clearer
word which God has sent us as the interpreter of Nature. Maggie's knowledge of the
Scriptures was wonderful for a child of eight
years, and every change she saw in the seasons,
the heavens, or in vegetation, brought to mind
some passage she had learned. Many who
knew not the pains by which these things had
been implanted in her heart, were amazed at
her language, and looked upon it as a kind of
inspiration. Some good but superstitious old
ladies, after talking with her, would shake
their heads mournfully, saying, "That child
is not long for this world;" as if God takes all




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.          11
the good and sensible folks out of the world
before they have time to work for him and
their generation. As in other cases, these
prophetesses were widely mistaken in regard
to our little heroine, for she did live, as you
will see, not only to labor but also to suffer
for Christ-to be a burden-bearer in his
harvest-field. But that the reader may have
some idea of what the prognostications were
founded on, we will give a little example of
her conversation, much of which was carried
from lip to lip, growing as it went, until some
who had never seen but only heard of her,
thought the child must vie with Solomon for
wisdom.
When the sun began to rise in all his glory,
and Maggie and her father were at their work,
she would say:
"Look now, dear papa, and see if he does
not come up as the Bible says,'like a strong
man to run a race.'" 
When the happy sparrows circled  and
fluttered around her home until they reached




12         MORNIN G-GLEAM: OR,
their own mansion on the high pole far above
her little chamber-window, she would gaze
earnestly upward and murmur, perhaps to
herself: "Not one of them  can fall to the
ground without your Father."  When the
lily-buds first began to open, she would
whisper almost involuntarily, " Not even
Solomon in all his glory was arrayed like one
of these."  When she looked on the cattle
grazing in the, pastures she would say, "The
cattle upon a thousand hills are mine;" and
when she caught from  some elevation  a
glimpse of the winding river, and saw the
ripples dancing like silver stars upon its
bosom, after her first exclamation of delight,
would be heard in softened tones, "There is a
river the streams whereof make glad the city
of our God."
You will see, dear young reader, that such
langulage and such trains of thought are not
common to childhood; for the book of life
declares-and all who have the care of the
young can testify to its truth-that "folly is




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         13
bound up in the heart of a child." Thus, as
she mingled very little among the people,
never attending school, it is not strange that
those who saw only the bright side of her
character, and heard only her remarkable
sayings, should have considered her one "not
born for earth." Thrice blessed is that child
who is thus made by holy teachings to inherit as its own all the rich and beautiful
things of God   She may never hold the deed
of one acre of his earth, never have the right
to sell one flower, nor to say of one lamb, "It
is my own;" and yet they are all hers to enjoy in a purer and nobler sense than can
many who are owners of the soil, but whose
abundance and the anxious care it brings will
not suffer them to sleep.
One of these blessed ones was little Maggie
Bond. She enjoyed every moment of daylight, and at nightfall laid her prayer-blessed
head on a pillow which was proof against all
evil dreams, and slept-shall we say in the
love and peace of God?  Nay, young and
2




14       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
pleasant and wise as was this child of many
prayers, she had her anxious hours-her
troubled thoughts; for she knew that her
heart was not right in the sight of God-that
her chief aim in all the little acts of love she
performed was not to please him, but those
dear friends whom he had given her.




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        lo
CHAPTER II.
FTER all the good things we have said
of Maggie, some young reader may
imagine that she was one of those
good children we read about but
never see, without one fault or frailty;
little stray creatures from the courts above,
who never knew sin. Such children are very
rare, although those with some faint claim to
perfection are now and then met with; but
even this is often but the creation of a foolishly
fond mother's imagination, or the result of a
diseased system. We do sometimes see little
ones who seem to have no evil of their own,
no desire for childhood's sports, no cup in
their heart running  over with  sparkling
merriment; who choose to sit beside their
mother all the long day while the bees hum
and the birds sing abroad, reading books




16        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
beyond their comprehension or doing nothing.
But such are objects of pity rather than of
emulation; being either the victims of vain
mothers, who, to boast of their precocity, rob
them  of their childhood-that God-given
heritage, or else the subjects of premature
decay. Usually, such have large heads with
projecting foreheads, full, deep-set, watery
eyes, temples thickly lined with blue veins,
and limbs too frail to support their body.
Poor little unfortunates! They, having never
had the health for out-door exercise and play,
have learned to talk and think like the older
people among whom  they pass their time.
Like hot-house plants, they are unable to bear
the air of out-door life, and incompetent to
shed abroad that fragrance which those do who
are reared abroad and feel God's breath upon
their spirits.
Now Maggie Bond was neither one of these
patient little sufferers nipped in the bud, nor
yet one of those who, having been flattered
and praised for being "little women or little




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER           17
ladies, instead of romps who roll hoops and
climb fences," barter away their innocent and
artless childhood, with its wealth of joys, for
the reputation of being "old and wise." She
was a true child, warm-hearted, impulsive,
and full of glee.  When study and work
were over, she might be seen, her curls flying
and her sun-browned cheek  glowing with
roses, chasing the golden butterfly over the
lawn, decking with flowers a captive lamb, or
arraying in her own bonnet and shawl the
demure old cat "Grizzle," or the dog "Bruno"
who slept by her side in a most neighborly
spirit on the broad kitchen hearth. These
last were of no small importance in the little
family. Puss was an officer always on duty,
having special charge over Maggie's poultry,
that no enemy might invade their little camp
by night; while Bruno, although given his
master for a watch-dog, seemed to understand that, as there was very little to watch,
his post was a sinecure, and acted as page,
attending Maggie in all her rambles through




18         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
woodland, marsh, and glen.  And a most
faithful guide he was, knowing the points of
the compass and guessing at the dinner or tea
hour with far more accuracy than could she
with all her wisdom. He bore all her little
gifts to  the poor in the village, whether
strawberries in a basket or dainty morsel in a
pail, never presuming, however near his own
dinner-hour, to meddle with that which belonged to another. He was a real treasure to
Maggie-protector and playmate.
This free, joyous spirit was encouraged by
her parents; for they well knew that children
who are happy and busy at their play will
carry the same energy into their duties in
after-life; and they were striving to rear their
daughter, not for a puppet of the ball-room,
or the pet of fashionable triflers, but for a
missionary of mercy in this sorrowful world.
To this end they did not set before her life in
all its darkest hues, to frighten her spirit at
the threshold, but rather impressed her with
the goodness of God, who for every trial he




HE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       19
permits, sends us a thousand mercies. They
encouraged her buoyancy, and provided, as
far as in their power, the means of making
her happy, while yet no shadow lay on her
pathway. They considered it a religious duty
to make home the brightest spot on earth, so
that, whatever darkness might await her in the
future, she could look back on "the sunny
hours of childhood," and hope that, as in the
past, so should it be in the future. Home
should be made, as far as might be, an emblem of heaven. But to how many little
ones is it only the place where they are
sheltered, fed, and disciplined? Is it not so
in some Christian families, where the injunction to be "sober-minded," is more highly
regarded than the command, "Rejoice ever.
more?"
Not thus was it in the case of Maggie
Bond.  Home was her paradise, and every
room bore evidence that a child dwelt there
whose comfort and pleasure were consulted in
all the arrangements. True, very little money




20*        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
had been spent in the purchase of toys, but
loving hearts and willing hands had in leisure
hours more than made amends for this deficiency; so that the play-room at MorningGleam, with its swings, hoops, cups and balls,
and its baby-house furnished from kitchen to
attic, was the admiration and the wonder of
all the child-world in the region. Now this
baby-house was densely peopled with dolls of
all grades, from Victoria, with her family and
maids of honor, down to a ragged-school, with
its demure and self-sacrificing teachers, surrounded by their ill-conditioned pupils. All
these were dressed by Maggie's own hand,
and bespoke a taste, a sense of propriety, and
a capability which argued well for her future
usefulness as a domestic manager and  an
active philanthropist. But all these things
were the work of the father and his child:
where was the proof of a mother's unwearied
love-the traces of her delicate taste?  Ah,
none so blest below but one bitter drop is
mingled in the cup of joy! Many a little one




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       21
who has no play-room, no baby-house, no
dolls, would shrink from changing places with
Maggie Bond! Her loving mother had long
been an invalid, unable to bear the least confusion, and sometimes not even the light of
day. Thus the poor child was obliged to play
in a distant part of the house, to walk softly,
and to speak in whispers, as she passed
through the hall, or stole into the sick-room,
night and morning, for the valued kiss from
those dear white lips. Every thing in the
chamber had a charm  for her: the white
muslin curtains trembling with the faint
breeze which was suffered for a little while to
breathe through their folds; the huge easychair with snowy dainty cover; the vases
filled with her own flowers, and even the
stand with its numerous bottles-all were
sacred things in her eyes. The old lady who
reigned supreme there, who said by solemn
monosyllable or awful nod when she might
and when she might not enter her domains,
seemed to her innocent imagination like the




22        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
regal mistress of some enchanted bower; and
once she  was completely overcome with
amazement and gratitude when this royal
dame patted her on the head, saying, "You're
the quietest child I ever had to deal with in
a mother's sick-room: when I get a chance
to go over home, I'll give you a pin-ball my
grandmother made out of a bit of the red
cloak she had when she was married. She
was'most a hundred years old when she
made it, and that without spectacles, too 
Good-night, child."
Now this old lady, Mrs. Green, was a renowned nurse for the sick, and some thought
their recovery sure if they could but secure
her services. No doubt one great secret of
her success was the vigilance with which she
guarded her patient from all intrusion and
noise. Now this very faithfulness made her
the terror of all little children who had ever
had a sick mother; so that when the stage
brought her, with her old-fashioned hairtrunk, band-box and carpet-bag, to the front



THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       23
door, they generally escaped out of the back
one, avoiding the body of the house, creeping
up back-stairs and playing in barns till health
returned and she departed. No doubt the
good woman had met with great annoyances
from rude and disobedient children rushing
into the room where perhaps life depended on
perfect quiet, and in her zeal for the mother
had lost all pity for the children. They in
turn  almost hated her, and dreaded her
presence in their homes far more than they
did the disease she came to cure.
Now Maggie Bond had heard many terrible
stories about "old Mother Green," which her
austere manner did not tend to dispel. But,
trained to pay respect to every one about her,
especially to the old, Maggie never attempted
to argue any question with her, nor yet to do
any thing which she saw displeased her. She
sought to win her favor by saving her a few
steps when in her power, and by avoiding all
noise. Thus it was that she won upon the old
nurse until they really became friends; so




24        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
that when, after weeks of confinement, she felt
that she must go home for one day and night
to rest a little and see how her husband and
daughter were getting along, she said to Mr.
Bond, "You need not sit in the chamber every
moment: you can trust Maggie to watch an
hour or two any time, for she is the best child
that ever lived, I do believe."  When she
came back she brought the promised pin-ball
and a little basket full of parched corn, hazel
nuts, and dried berries-" a present from Papy
Green to her for being such a dear, good
child." This praise, together with the honor
conferred on her as nurse in Mrs. Green's
absence, made poor Maggie so happy that she
had to run with her treasures into her playroom to hide the tears of joy. Had some
Royal Humane Society sent her a gold medal
for saving a fellow-creature from  death, we
doubt if it could have been more highly
appreciated than were these humble testimonials from such a source.
Thus you will see that, although Maggie




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         25
Bond was deprived of her mother's society,
she was not always miserable, having many
blessings to make up for her one great trial.
During the long, sad year which followed, her
affectionate father did all in his power to make
her happy. He spent much of his leisure
with her out of doors, lest the shadow of
sickness and silence within might fall upon
her young spirit and make its lasting impress
there. It is no proof of love to a sick or
suffering friend to sit moping in idleness and
tears. Better far do we show that love by
doing all in our power to relieve them and
other stricken ones, and then  calmly and
sweetly to receive at God's hand the blessings
he has left us untouched by the blight of
earth. The most acceptable offering we can
lay upon,his altar with the prayer of faith, is
a submissive spirit, resolved to do his will
in the storm as well as in the sunshine. A
morose, fretful, and impatient mourner cannot
serve God acceptably in any way, and so did
Mr. Bond feel when he strove to banish un3




26         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
hallowed thoughts from  Maggie's mind. Together the loving pair traversed the hills,
valleys, and forests in search of minerals,
wild flowers, and berries; together they read
their morning and evening portion of Scripture, and prayed; together they went to God's
house and to the dwellings of the sick and
poor. They were as the substance and the
shadow; never separated  save when  Mr.
Bond was preparing for his Sabbath services.
Then Maggie studied her simple lessons for
an hour or two; in which time she learned
more than she would have done,,hived up
with a hundred weary little children, in a
close, hot, school-room, in six hours. After
this she was allowed to visit Nancy Darby,
the one servant at the parsonage; who, having
come from home with Maggie's mother when
she was married, after having spent fifteen
years with her mother, felt an interest in
affairs which it is unreasonable we should expect from those poor strangers who seldom
pass summer and winter in the same kitchen.




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.          27
Nancy was far from being young or active,
but she was faithful, capable, and full of good
nature. She loved the child of the parsonage
with a sincere affection, and did all she could
to make up for the loss of her mother's company.
Maggie's mother was a real lady, and as
such  was always considerate toward  her
servant; never giving her an unnecessary step,
nor needlessly wounding her feelings, as coarse
people often do to show, they imagine, their
own dignity and superiority. These delicate
feelings had passed by her example to the child,
and many were the little acts of kindness she
performed for Nancy, thus relieving her and at
the same time amusing herself. She fed the
dog, the cat, and the chickens; hunted for the
eggs, filled the salt-cellars, and ran little
errands-all with such a cheerfulness as made
it a pleasure to ask any little service at her
hand.
Now  to  say that Nancy  Darby loved
Maggie, would be to give a faint idea of the




23         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
ardent affection she cherished toward her.
The faithful creature had never known what
it was to love husband or child, being as she
called herself, "a spinster;" but she did not
believe that any mother's love could excel
that she had for the child of Morning-Gleam.
"Wern't her's," she asked, "the first hands
that ever held her? Didn't she wean her, and
teach her to walk and to sing? And had any
person ever heard her speak a hasty word to
her, whether naughty or good? And should
anybody tell her that she didn't love Maggie, and
that she wouldn't suffer as much for her sake
as her parents would?  They might tell her
so, but she wouldn't believe it. To be sure,
she had never been a mother, but she was
human for all that, and she knew what love
meant as well as other folks. Did anybody
think she would stay there and drudge, drudge,
from day to day, with rheumatic pains in her
shoulders and ancles, when she had a whole
life's'arnings laid up in the bank, if she didn't
love the folks like her own flesh and blood?




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        29
Hadn't she a nephew who was well-to-do in
the world, who,'feared she might break down
and make her will where she was, was teazing
her fall and spring to give up hard work and
live like a lady on the interest of her money,
and telling her how his children would wait
on her, and his wife let her have the best
room for her own?  And do you suppose
she'd stay there if she didn't love Maggie?
Why she did love her like her heart's blood,
and let life or death come to the mother-nobody had better speak a harsh word to the
child while Nancy Darby lived I"




30       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
CHAPTER III.
HY, Nancy! did you know that your
best pudding-dish  was broken?"
>^"    exclaimed Maggie, one bright morning, as she entered the back-door
with a large piece of yellow-ware in
each hand. "I suppose this is Mr. Bruno's
work again; and it's only a week since he
broke a saucer! I'm afraid you'll get out of
patience with him altogether, if he is so mischievous!"
"Bruno  didn't do  that, child," replied
Nancy, without looking at Maggie, but sweeping with a vigor which bespoke a blessed forgetfulness of "the rhumaties," as she called
her trouble.  Her mind was evidently disturbed about something, and Maggie longed
to know the cause.
"Did you break it, Nancy?" she ventured
to ask.




Morning Gleam.
PAGE 30.








THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         31
"Yes, child; and it's pretty lucky I broke
nothing else. A dish is easily replaced, but
if my heart or anybody's else is broke, it
won't be so easy to get another, or to mend
those we're got."
"It don't seem as if any thing could break
your heart," said the child, gazing at the
woman's huge proportions as if she saw no
possible way for any outside sorrow to break
through such a thick wall and  smite the
little  inhabitants within.  "Dear mother's
heart might be broken with one evil word,"
she added, "and father's might be if he should
lose us; and I'm sure mine would be if either
of them or you should die; but I don't believe
any thing in the world could break yours,
Nancy-you're so strong."
Nancy threw  down  the broom  on  the
painted floor with a noise which  startled
Maggie. She dropped into the nearest chair,
drew the child upon her lap, and covering her
face with her clean checked apron, burst into
tears. Magoie was amazed. She had heard




32        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
Nancy scold the simple fellow who cut the
wood and did the rough work; she had heard
her sigh when weary or vexed at her work;
but the idea that she had a fountain where she
kept tears was quite new to her, and surprised
her as much as it would have done had the
picture of the famous Ronish saint winked,
or that of the Virgin shed genuine drops from
the canvas, while she gazed on them.
"Why, Nancy," exclaimed  Maggie, "I
never knew before that you could cry."
"It is precious seldom, child, that I do, only
for my sins-and that's when I'm alone with
God. I haven't had such a spell since my mother
died; and I'm sure that warn't nothin' to cry
for-to see a saint go up to heaven in a chariot
of fire, shoutin''glory' as she went! You
don't remember that, do you?"
"No, Nancy, I'm sure I don't. I thought
nobody but Elijah ever went up so. Did you
see her go?"
"Oh, darlin' child! I don't mean that she
really went up so. She died on her bed, and




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        33
was buried like other dead folks; but she
went so triumphant that it wasn't like death
to me. I've never feared death since then, for
I saw his sting taken away-with my own
eyes I saw it. As we stood about her bed,
somebody said,'Poor mother!' but she cried
out,'Don't call me poor: I'm a blessed woman
to-day! I wouldn't change my dyin' pillow
for a throne with any queen on earth.'"
A  little  arm  stole softly  around  the
weeper's neck. " I hope we shall die so, don't
you, Nancy?" whispered a soft voice. "And
if we were only sure we should, we would never
cry here. What were you crying for?  It
seems so strange to see you unhappy. I can't
go to my lessons till you tell me."
"I wasn't cryin' for fear of death nor for
any of my own troubles, dear: them  tears
was for you and yours.  But," she continued, winding her large arms in a crushing
embrace around Maggie, "nobody shall give
you a harsh word while I live, darlin'-remember that."




34        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
A shadow passed over the sunny face of
the child. "Nancy," she said in a low voice,
"do you know what troubles my father this
morning?"
"Troubles your father?" asked Nancy, in
feigned astonishment.  " He's the last one
that ought to be sad to-day. He's had some
beautiful letters this morning! He'll tell you
by-and-by what was in them.  But sittin'
here babying you won't finish my work;" and
springing up, she caught her broom off. the
floor and swept with a vigor seldom surpassed
by a young kitchen-maid. "There's a bowl
of milk for your kittens," she said, just as
Mrs. Green entered the door with a waiter,
from which her poor patient had just received
her breakfast. Maggie bore the milk off to
the shed, and sitting down beside the box
which contained three white kittens and a
Maltese sister-all too young to care for
themselves-she took them into her lap and
held them one at a time up to the bowl. In
the meantime the nurse and Nancy Darby




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         35
commenced an animated conversation, which
she heard as distinctly as if addressed to herself.
Nor is it at all probable her presence in the
kitchen would have prevented it, neither of
them being persons of very delicate perceptions or refined sensibility.
"Well, Mother Green," began Nancy, "so
you're a-goin' off, are you? Well; you've
got the name of bein' a hard old cretur' for
help to get along with, so that girls gives
notice to quit their places when they make
sure you're a-comin'.  So they tell me; but'll give you a good name, if nobody else
does. I could live with you all my life without one hasty word between us; more'n that,
I feel grateful to you for your faithfulness to
my sick folks up-stairs. Dear patient cretur'!
She'll miss you, but she shan't have any less
attention, for I'll see to her myself if there
ain't a meal got nor a dish washed in this
house from  Monday mornin' to Saturday
night! The idea! that I could give my time
up to cookin' for company with the name of




36        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,'nuss.'  When Mr. Bond come down this
mornin', and broke the news to me that his
mother was comin' to spend the summer and
take care of her, I screamed right out.'Good
patience,' says I,'she'll die for a drink afore
she'd ask such a grand old lady to run up and
down-stairs for her! Why, sir,' says I,'if
your mother's a-comin' here and wants as much
waitin' on as she did seven year ago, we'll
need Miss Green as much as we do now; for
we can put off our own folks any way. Mrs.
Bond's comfort is uppermost in all oar minds,
and not one of us but would go a week without food or sleep if we could help her by it;
that you know, sir. "
"'That's true, Nancy,' says he,'but you
know I cannot afford to keep a nurse too;
besides, my mother has made this offer, which
is a great deal for one who has no occasion to
deprive herself of rest, and her feelings would
surely be wounded if I forbade her doing
it.' The dear soul looked as if he would
sink, so I said no more; but it doesn't seenm




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         37
to me as if I could go through another such
year as I did seven year ago no more than I
could fly!  If I didn't love'em all so, I'd
quit 1"
" Now, Nancy," replied Mrs. Green, soothingly, "maybe you'll be disappointed  as
agreeable as you was with me. If you do
the best you can to please her and to keep
Mrs. Bond quiet too, I guess it'll all come out
right: every thing does, if we could only believe it."
"Ah, f we could only believe it!" exclaimed
poor Nancy, the unbidden tears beginning to
flow again. "But there it is; I am the unbelievin'est cretur' in the world!  It don't
seem to me as if Thomas himself was any
unbelieviner than I be.  Now when I look
back on all the way the Lord has led me, I
can truly say that every trial and tribulation
has been for my good. Why, it's as clear as
the sun at noonday. When my father died,
everybody thought my mother would have to
bring up at the poor-house, with all her chil4




38        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
dren, and so she thought herself. She was a
good, kind mother, as far as she knowed how;
but we was all comin' up like little heathens.
We picked huckleberries all day Sunday, or'tended to the sap-runnin', or something of
that sort. We never went to church nor
Sunday-school no more'n our poultry did.
And so we was growin' up, when father got
killed fellin' an oak tree. Sure enough it was
a dark day; and after the funeral we was the
desolatest little group ever you did see. Mrs.
Bond's father was the nearest minister to us,
and some of the neighbors sent for him to
make a prayer afore we went to the grave. I
was young, but I remember that prayer.
After he'd asked God to, do what nobody expected him to do for us, says he,'Now, Lord,
know I that thou hearest, and that thou wilt
send answers of mercy and peace into this
dwellin'.' That waren't like Thomas. Well,
next day, when we was doin' up our little
work with heavy hearts, who should draw up
to our door but Mr. Hale, the minister, and




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        39
his wife and little Rebekah-that's Mrs.
Bond now. The good man got out and come
in with them, and after speakin' a few comfortin' words to mother, says he,'Now, Mrs.
Darby, I come this morning to see what I can
do to help you. You have a heavy charge
left you, and need a friend to advise with and
to assist you. Have you thought of any way
by which you can bring up your family?'
"Then mother told him that the neighbors
all said there was no use in tryin'-that she'd
be forced to bind out the two oldest, and go
with the rest on us to the poor-house; but,
says she,' I'm strong, sir, and I'll gladly work
eighteen hours out of the twenty-four to feel
that I wasn't a burden to nobody; and at any
rate, I mean to try! I won't go till I see
hunger starin' these children in the face.
Then, rather than have them  suffer, I will
take the town's bounty.'
"'Now, my good woman,' says Mr. Hale,'that's just the right spirit, and with it I don't
believe you'll ever go there! If you want to




40         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
put your girls out, I can provide for three of
them.  Two of my friends will take one
apiece-they may have their choice-and Mrs.
Hale will take the other.' Well, the long and
the short on't is, that Pricilly went to Deacon
Horne's, Susanny to the Widow Brainard's,
and I, bein' a slenderish girl, and onfit for hard
work, came to Mr. Hale's; a good day it was
for all our souls. Pricilly, she married a
decent farmer, and died leavin' a family of
children  that's an honor to any mother's
name. Susanny died afore her time was out;
but her'n was a blessed death; and here I be
to-day with as little to complain on as any
woman  alive.  Now, suppose poor father
had a-lived, we might have stayed there in
them pine-clearin's as ignorant as colts of the
way to heaven. That was God's way to bring
us all to himself. Mother, she sold her four
acres of rough land  and moved into the
village, where she took in washin', and with
our help brought up her two little ones to
take care of her in her old age and feeble



THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       41
ness. And if I do say it, she was an honor
to the church, and Mr. Hale used to say, if anybody wants to see the power of faith, let'em
go to Widow Darby's cottage; and he said
her death-bed was like the gate of heaven to
many souls that stood beside it. Now don't
you think I ought to believe that all things
will work together for good, to them that love
God?"
"I do think so, Nancy," replied Mrs. Green.'Ah, but," said she, "the trouble is to know
whether I do really love him, and whether I
am one of the'called according to his purpose.' 
"One good way to find out," added Mrs.
Green, " is to search ourselves, and see whether
we are willing to submit to God's will in all
things."
"Yes, yes!" said Nancy, "in all things!
Now  in some things I'm  the submissivest
cretur' ever you see. When mother died, I
give her to God with a cheerful, thankful
heart, though she was the dearest thing I had
on earth. I felt, when I saw that her spirit was




42         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
gone, to cry out,' What am I that God should
bless and honor me by giving my best friend
a place at his right hand, where are pleasures
forevermore' And when I made her ready
for the grave with my own hands, and helped
lay her to rest in her coffin, I felt nearer to
heaven than I ever did before. It did seem
to me as if Jesus stood there beside us; and
that I still had hold of mother's hand, though
she had stepped in through the gate and I
was still outside. It was so easy to give up
my will to God's will then!"
" It is often easier to bear great trials than
little ones," remarked Mrs. Green, timidly, for
she evidently felt during this conversation
that Nancy Darby was no common kitchendrudge.
" Well, then," continued the speaker, "you
remember when the'Green Valley Savin's
Bank' broke I had two years' hard earnings
in it laid up against old age. When some
body come in and told me I had lost it, says
I,'I'm glad it's that instead of my hope of




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        43
heaven; and from that day to this, that two
hundred dollars has never cost me a tear nor
an hour's sleep. I just said in my heart,'God saw I would be better without it,' and
that was an end of it! But it does seem as
if this thing now is more than I could bear:
to have real particular company here orderin'
what they'd like to eat, and comparin' every
thing with what they have'at my daughter
Caroline's,' and at the same time to feel the
whole care of that dear sufferer up-stairs on
my mind! If you was to stay I wouldn't
care so much, for you'd see that all was quiet
up-stairs; but I guess we'll have nurses
enough up-stairs when my lady takes your
place. She kept young Mrs. Bond's cheeks
red pretty much the whole year she spent
here afore, with her hard hints and smart
speeches."
"I've heard that she was a pretty stern old
lady," replied Mrs. Green; "but they say she's
very religious, and good to the poor, so I guess
you'll get along with her. It is always easier




4 4        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
for me to bear with the ugly ways of good
folks than with those of wicked people; for I
know they mean to do right."
"Oh, well, then, it's a good deal harder for
me; for I think they've no excuse for bein'
ugly after they've learned the spirit of Jesus;
but these poor cretur's that's yet in their sins,
oh, how much I can bear with them  afore I
lose my patience! I feel to cry,'Father,
forgive'em, for they know not what they do!'
There's old Mose Sawyer that cuts our wood:
he stutters so a body can't get a straight
answer from him, except when he swears, and
then he rolls out his words as clear as you
can your'n. It goes right to my heart when I
hear him revile the name of my Master; but
pity for his soul is above every other feelin'.
But if it was a man who knew more, or who
had had good examples from his youth up, I
do fully believe that I should want to strike
off his right ear, as that spirited disciple did
the High Priest's servant's. But in this case,
a fine lady, with learnin', and religion, and




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.          45
gentility, and money, comes here, and because
we don't believe just as she wants us to,
thinks she's goin' to rule us with a rod of
iron, and forms all her speeches just to hurt
our feelin's."
"Why, she's very pious, isn't she?" asked
Mrs. Green.  "I don't see how she and your
folks can help agreein'. I'm sure she cannot
find any fault with them."
"She's pious-I believe in my very heart
she is; but her's ain't the softenin', meltin' kind
of religion. It's the kind that would smite
off the right ear of sinners, and call down
lightnin' from heaven on'em. And yet I do
believe she's a sincere lover of the Lord, and
hater of sin. When she persecutes, it's for
conscience-sake, and that's what makes it so
hard. You can't reason with her no more
than you can with that stone wall."
"I wouldn't try," replied Mrs. Green.  "I
hold on to my belief, and let her alone in
her's."
"I guess you wouldn't hold your own long




46         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
in peace if she had any rule over you. She'd
put her iron heel on to your conscience, and
she wouldn't stop grindin' you till every speck
of Methodism was ground out o' you. She
would never let you say'John Wesley,' as
long as you lived, again 1"
"Why," exclaimed Mrs. Green, in an energetic voice, and dilating her eyes to their
utmost capacity, "don't she like Methodists?"
"No, indeed," replied Nancy, "she don't
nor us Baptists, nor other heretics. Her own
Church is infallible, and she'll never forgive
our folks-the Hales-for proselyting  her
only son. She says she's always felt guilty
that she didn't go to college with him and
watch him all the time, to see what books he
read and what company he kept; then she
might have saved him from bein' led astray!
The idea of bein' led astray by our folks!"
"Then she and the Hales ain't of the same
religion?" asked Mrs. Green.
"Yes, they be; for I will have it that it is
the same faith. Her Lord and her Saviour is




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        47
ours; but because we dare to differ from her
on some points, she talks about'her religion'
and'our religion.' Look at the pastor of her
own church and yours and Mr. Bond: don't
they  stand shoulder to  shoulder against
Unitarianism, and every other error here, like
a band of brethren?  But she must set up
that we've started a new religion to break
down the one that the Pilgrim Fathers bled
and died for."
"Oh, well, we're all poor, inconsistent
mortals, if we're left to ourselves," said Mrs.
Green. "If she's hard, Nancy, you must just
try to show her that you're tender and merciful and forbearing. It takes two to make a
quarrel, and don't you be one of them here.
I believe one reason people-I mean girls in
kitchens-think me such a tyrant is, that I
won't dispute with them. I lay down my
rules about the sick-room, and then, no matter
how much they fuss or fret, I say no more,
but move right on like a deaf and dumb woman. In the end, however, they learn who




48         MOORNING-GLEAM: OR,
their friend is; for many that have said every
thing against me have come to me for a home
in sickness, or when they were out of a place.
I've learned that a quiet perseverance in the
way of duty is the safest and easiest way to
get along."
" That's all very true; but when duty looks
two ways, what is a poor woman to do?  It
is certainly my duty to see that dear sufferer
up-stairs attended to, lifted night and mornin',
as you do, watched over and'tended, encouraged and cheered up, strengthened with little
delicacies, and kept quiet; and maybe it's my
duty to stay down-stairs to make nice pastry
and cook rich food-such as we can't affordfor company that pretends to be nuss, while I
do the work. And, at the same time, it's my
duty to hear every thing said against my faith
and hold my tongue, thus seeming to thank
her for condescendin' to despise us! I tell
you, Mrs. Green, it isn't always so easy to
know what duty is. But I do think a girl
that has lived with mother and  daughter




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         49
twenty-five years (though  rapidly verging
toward forty, Nancy always called herself
a girl), might have a little right to speak in a
house; and speak I will! I'll tell Mr. Bond
that if he'll get an Irish  girl to do the
drudgery, I'll try to keep house and be nurse
and waiter for the old lady. And if he don't,
I guess I'll go a while to my nephew's, where
I shan't see nor hear any of the trouble."
"Well, you must do as you think best; but
I will warn you all," replied Mrs. Green, "that
a little worriment of mind may upset all I
have done for Mrs. Bond in all these weeks.
If she isn't kept still and her mind easy, she'll
die: that's as sure as she's alive now! But
I'm  afraid Mr. Bond will think my restingtime is long this morning: though he's never
weary of sitting beside that bed-the dear,
kind man."




50        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
CHAPTER IV.
AGGIE had listened with good attention to the foregoing conversation,
[s,  although a great portion of it was
quite unintelligible to her mind.
All the impression she gained was
that Grandma Bond was a very different lady
from Grandma Hale; and that Nancy did not
like fine ladies, and was not willing to wait
upon them. There was a vague feeling clinging to her mind when she went to her books
and her play, that the expected visitor did
not love "Mamma" as everybody else did,
and that she was coming to take care of her
only from a sense of duty. But this idea was
so much out of the way that she soon shook
it off, and began picturing to her mind the
elegant stranger. Their neighbor, Captain
Blount, had recently taken his plain, motherly
companion to Havre, and brought her back




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        51
again quite a new being; an elegant and
magnificent lady she seemed in the eyes of the
child who was so much a stranger to fashion.
The plainly-dressed, silver-streaked hair which
went to France, came home curled, glossy, and
black; the faded brown cheeks had in some
mysterious way stolen the bloom from Parisian
roses; while the black silk dress and gray
bonnet had given place to a plume-laden pink
hat, and a gaudy brocade robe, flounced from
top to bottom. Good-natured Mrs. Blount,
in undergoing this mighty transformation
herself, had not forgotten the village children
at home: in lieu of the oranges, nuts, and
raisins they used to receive from her capacious store-room, they were now favored with
red scarfs, tinsel combs, embroidered aprons,
and the like.
Now when Maggie heard her aged relative
accused of being " a fine lady," she at once set
her down as a counterpart of Mrs. Blount,
whose appearance on her return had given
great offence to Nancy Darby, who fully agreed




52         3IORNING-GLEAM: OR,
with St. Paul in his view of the dress to be
worn by women professing godliness. Although so young and so fully impressed with
Nancy's importance and good sense, Maggie
had yet discernment enough to know that she
was not the standard of good taste, and to see
the differences in her purchases and those of
her mother; she therefore made great allow
ance for Nancy's severity toward " fine ladies,"
and grew quite impatient to hear from her
father when she might look for her grandmother's arrival.
" My daughter," said Mr. Bond, as he closed
the book after her simple recitations were
over, "did you know I had just received a
letter from your Aunt Caroline?"
*"No, indeed, papa," cried Maggie, in an
ecstacy of delight.  "Do please to read it
aloud to me."
"Aunt Caroline,"  or "Mrs. Percy," as
strangers called her, was the only sister of
Mr. Bond. She was the wife of a prosperous
merchant in a distant city, and being, save




TIlE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        53
Maggie's father, her mother's only child,
claimed that her house was the proper house
for the old lady. She had a large, fine mansion, several servants, and no children; and
being one of those light-hearted, whole-souled
creatures with whom we meet, though rarely,
she chose, out of consideration to the limited
means of her brother, and his wife's delicate
health, to insist on "keeping mother."  She
had kept her as long as in her power, and
until all her golden chains had turned, in the
old lady's eyes, to rusty iron bars; her silken
meshes to rough, hempen nets.  "She had
resolved to go to Massachusetts to take care of
Rebekah, and written to announce her intention!"  Aunt Caroline's letter followed hers
by the next mail, coming like a sunbeam after
a cloud; for, much as the pastor loved his
widowed mother, there was to him a restraint
and a rebuke in her very presence; and just
now, of all times, he loved the peace and joy
of heaven to brood over his silent dwelling.
The drooping flower of his heart seemed only




5-       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
able to live in the sunshine of smiles and
gentle words; and however strong he might
be to brave the storm of religious controversy
above, or the wind of domestic contention
below-stairs, he knew it would at once lay
her low. He now called to his aid that faith
in God which he was ever holding out to his
people as a sure refuge in every trial. He read
Aunt Caroline's joyous epistle to Maggie with
its promises of "pretty things to be sent in
grandma's trunk;" and hints about some
mysterious present which that dear old lady
was then engaged in sealing up with red wax
for the same little girl, and begging her darling
little niece to remember that when people
grew old they could not bear with the noise
and questions of little children, as when
younger and stronger. She hinted, too, that
it would not be well for her mother to be shut
up too long in the sick-room, and that Maggie
would be doing a good work by taking her
among the poor and sick in the village as
much as possible; and closed by saying that




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         55
for the sake of all she loved at Morning-Gleam
and those bound thither, she had one request
to make-that kind, faithful Nancy Darby
might take upon her broad shoulders and her
affectionate heart all the burdens of the sickroom, while her own purse should supply
wages for a kitchen-maid such as Nancy herself might choose. Nancy laughed until she
wept tears of gratitude when this letter was
read in the kitchen for her especial benefit.
"Well, dear me," she exclaimed, "that Miss
Caroline always was the beautifulest cretur'
that ever lived; she sees all her trials turned
into mercies at once-she finds a jewel in
every toad's head! Mrs. Green said it would
all come out right, and so it has: almost before
I prayed I've got my answer. All I asked
was that I might have the privilege of spendin' and bein' spent in that sick-room, and my
request is granted. When you answer that
letter, sir, please to send a thousand thanks to
Mrs. Percy, and tell her Nancy understands




56         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
matters, and will do just what she wants done
here."
Had any stranger seen the humble creature,
after this morning, joyfully at her work, and
listened to her triumphant songs of praise and
gratitude, he would have been more likely
to think her just fallen heir to a fortune,
rather than to a new heritage of toil by day
and of watching by night. The labor and
responsibility which would have crushed a
less unselfish woman to the earth, were received as tokens of God's favor by this lowly,
loving creature. Thus often are God's dealings with us mercies or chastisements, according to the spirit in which we receive them.
The day of Grandma Bond's arrival has
come, and while her son and little Maggie are
listening for wheels, and watching for carriages
laden with big trunks, little trunk, band-box,
bundle, we will give our dear, patient reader a
little insight into the character of the expected
guest, with some account of her antecedents.
She had descended in a straight line from a




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         57
brave, rigid, old Puritan, who came over in
the May-Flower, and from him had inherited
a strong love of religious liberty-that is,
according  to her interpretation, liberty to
worship God as her own conscience directed,
and to force other people to worship as she did.
It was her honest boast that she was descended
from  two early Puritans-one, a celebrated
divine, and the other, a ruling-elder in that
pure church; and that from that day which
tried the souls of her godly ancestors, not one
of the long line on either side had ever
swerved from the most rigid form of the faith
they braved the sea to plant, till (and with
shamefacedness and great humbling of soul
she would confess it), till her own, only, and
beloved son, Henry Endicott Cotton Bond,
had proved  recreant!  She mourned  and
lamented this sad  defection  of him  who
was at once the joy and the grief of her life.
"Little," she said, "did she think when, with
a widow's heart, she devoted herself to those
children, teaching them to follow the footsteps




58        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
of those holy men, that one of them would
ever be classed among deserters, who turn the
world up-side down! She had expected to
see this son, elegant in person, refined in
manners, and sound in learning, fill some old
pulpit hallowed by the preaching of John
Cotton or Thomas Hooker.  But what was
he? A plain pastor of a village Baptist church
-good and pious, it is true, but who, had he
lived in those early days which had such a
glory in her eyes, might have been fined, had
his tongue bored, or been whipped on Boston
Common! The history of those times was as
familiar to her mind as that of the Creation
to every Sunday-school ckild, and was a
never-failing source of thought and conversation; for, beside her unbroken line of ancestry,
which she saw with miraculous vision untainted by heresy, there was a real soul-bond
between herself and those who clipped off
Quakers' ears, bored their tongues with redhot irons, and also whipped, fined, and imprisoned the Baptists. She had but one only




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       59
fault to find with these early lights of the
New England Churches: their plans and purposes were good, but they did not carry them
out to the full extent they might have done
with the sole power in their hands. Had they
hung Roger Williams, whipped out the little
spark of life they left in Obediah Holmes, and
inflicted on John Clark what Gov. Endicott in
his charge told him he deserved-death, she
might this day have been a proud and happy
woman   She did not approve of harsh
measures for their own sake; nor yet was she
a woman of blood. On the contrary, she
was exceedingly merciful-in her way. In
worldly sorrows she was tender and sympathizing, ever imparting of her substance to
clothe and feed the poor; ever ready to sacrifice ease and rest for the sick and suffering.
It was only when it came to matters of religion
that she was hard, uncharitable, and tyrannical.
She called it "merciful to crush out the spirit
of error which, if suffered to live, would be
the death of souls: just as a compassionate




60        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
physician cuts out the cancer to save the life
of his patient." She would "do any thing for
the bodies of Roman Catholics even; but she
firmly believed it was the duty of our government to burn down their churches, banish
their priests, and force the common people to
attend Protestant church and Sunday-school!
Were they not the enemies of God?  Surely
it was our province to make them his friends,
to break their chains of superstition, so that
they might enjoy as well as ourselves liberty
of conscience-that inestimable blessing."
" Hark, Maggie! There's a carriage heavily
laden with trunks, and the driver is trying to
make out the house. Let us go down, and if
it is grandma, meet her at the gate."
Mr. Bond soon knew the huge initials on
the trunks, and waved his white handkerchief
to the driver to stop. With his own hands
he opened the door, let down the steps, and
almost lifted the weary traveler from the
coach. As she leaned upon his arm while
going up the gravel-walk, poor Maggie, who




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         61
had not yet attracted  her notice, stepped
around the other side and a little before her,
so as to get a glance into the face of the "fine
lady," whom she now thought traveling in
the disguise of a plain, ordinary person. At
length she ventured to touch her hand, as
much as to say, "Here is little Maggie;" but
a cold glance, and an exclamation, "Oh, Endicott, how much that child resembles the
Hales!" with "There, you may carry. my
reticule in, child," were the only tokens she
received that she was seen at all.
They entered the hall of Morning-Gleam
cottage, the numerous trunks followed, and
the door closed behind them. The shadows
were beginning to fall, and lamps had not as
yet been lighted. Madam Bond, as we must
now call the guest, heaved a deep, deep sighone which seemed to come up from the lowest
corners of the heart.
"Are you sick or only tired, grandma,
dear?" asked the affectionate little girl, all
unused as she was to such doleful sounds.




62        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,' Neither, child," replied the old lady, without looking in her face, but sinking into a
rocking-chair, as she entered the sitting-room.
"Morning-Gleam is a strange name for this
place: Night-Shade would be more appropriate.  Here, put away this shawl and umbrella, Experience."   Maggie took the two
named articles, and then stood waiting as if for
a third.
"There, go, child, and don't stand looking
in my face," cried the new-comer with genuine
energy in her tone.
"Wasn't there one other thing you wanted
me to put away, grandma?" asked Maggie,
timidly.
"No, child; only umbrella and shawl."
I thought there were three things."
Mr. Bond smiled. He saw that Maggie
was waiting for something answering to the
name "Experience."  She had hardly passed
from the room when she heard a call after
her.
"Margaret Experience! Come back here,




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        63
child!" Maggie halted, entered the room, and
stood overwhelmed with confusion. "Margaret Experience, will you tell your woman I
want tea hastened as much as possible?" The
old lady's eyes were fixed on the child, and
she was evidently addressing her; but what
did she mean?  Maggie now  remembered
Nancy's tears about her grandmother's coming, and began to wonder if the old lady were
not crazy. Tears started to her eyes, and she
would fain have thrown herself into her
father's arms, but could not do so without
passing by grandma, who might catch her for
aught she could tell! -
"Endicott i" cried Madam Bond, "why does
that child stand staring at me so? Why don't
she put away my things and carry my orders
to the kitchen?"
"Mother," said Mr. Bond, "she don't know
who you are talking to-we always call her
Maggie i Run my love," he said to the child,
"and ask Nancy to hasten tea a little."
"Why, Endicott!" said the old lady re



64        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
proachfully, "I always thought you named
that child for me!"
"We did, mother; but we don't call her by
the whole of it at once-it is too long," replied the son, trying to suppress a smile.
"I don't believe the child knows what her
name is," answered Madam Bond, tartly. A
little step was now heard moving timidly
through the hall, as if doubtful whether or
not to risk an entrance.
"Experience!" shouted she, "Experience!
Come here!"
This harmless word became suddenly a
tone of terror to poor Maggie.  "Open
Sesame," had not more magic power on the
door of the robbers' cave than "Experience"
on her ear. The little feet beat a swift retreat,
nor did Maggie stop till she found safety in
the strong arms of Nancy Darby.
"Either that child is an idiot, or she don't
know her own name!" exclaimed Grandma
Bond with a sigh, the usual accompaniment
of her sayings.




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         65
"She's a shy little fawn," said her father.
"I'll catch her andc bring her back."
"Don't bring her to me against her will, I
beg you," exclaimed the old lady. "I never
take children captive."
Maggie was soon led in with a forced smile
on her lips, and took her stand by her grandmother's chair quite of her own will. She
had received her father's word that their
guest was in her right mind and harmless;
and that was enough.
" What's your name, child?" was the first
question put to her.
" Maggie Bond," replied she.
"Maggie's no name at all! What's written
in your books and upon your clothes?"' Maggie Bond."
"Is that possible, Endicott?" asked the old
lady, looking reproachfully at her son.
"Oh, mother dear, we are most informal
people here," said the gentleman, "but we do
write her name'Maggie E. B. Bond.' Isn't it




66        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
so on your silver cup and spoon and fork and
napkin-ring, dear?"
"Yes, sir," replied the  child.  "M. E.
B. B."
" What does that'E. B.' stand for?" asked
Madam Bond.
"B for Brewster," answered Maggie. "I'm
named for you, grandma, and when you were
a little girl, ma says your name was'Maggie
Brewster.'"
"Maggie is no name at all. My maiden
name was'Margaret Experience Brewster;
and that's your's if you're my namesake."
Maggie hung her head at the thought of
this new appendage; especially as henceforth
it would always recall the strange tone
and manner which so alarmed her on hearing it.
"It is a very long name for so little a girl,
mother, and we thought we should leave out
the'E.," said Mr. Bond, who, undutiful son
that he was, had taken the liberty to drop one
or two of his own names.




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        67
Madam  Bond sighed. "I suppose," she
said, "you are aware, Endicott, that such
changes in a name might affect the child very
seriously in a court of law. For instance, if,
in case of your's and Caroline's death, I should
leave her my estate, my nieces, the Downs'
girls, could easily break the will by forcing
her to prove that she was the'Margaret Experience Brewster Bond' mentioned in the
parish register and in the will."
"I don't know how it may be in the will,
but her name is not recorded in any parish
record," said the father.
"Very true-poor thing!" sighed grandma.
"No vows were ever registered for her; no
obligations ever entered into to bring her
up in the nurture and admonition of the
Lord!"
"No, not publicly, mother; but whatever
may be said of me, Maggie is the child of a
praying woman, who has given her to the
Lord sin faith and love.  But here comes




68        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
Nancy to welcome you and to call us to
tea."
It was against the principle of Nancy to
flatter or to speak one unmeaning word of
welcome. She did not say, "I'm glad to see
you;" but only, "I hope you are well, Mrs.
Bond," and, "I'm  afraid you're weary;" to
which Madam only replied, "I am quite well,
and not at all weary." And then they took
their seats at a table which would have done
honor to any housekeeper in the land; while
Nancy sat beside the sick-bed, and left her
new  help-Kitty Flynn-to  play waitingmaid. Grandma announced her intention of
waiting till morning to see the invalid, and
retired early to rest, although "not at all
weary," after a journey of six hundred miles.
So resolutely determined was this old lady not
to grow old nor to die until her hour came,
that she would never admit that she felt the
weakness or infirmities of which even schoolgirls are so ready to complain. She has gone
to her pillow: may the angels of mercy and




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.          69
gentleness watch her slumbers, fanning her
brow and touching her heart the while with
their soft; white wings!
Maggie's ideas of fine ladies were wonderfully confused as she laid her head down that
night.  Grandma, tall, gaunt, stately, and
plainly robed, was the very opposite of Mrs.
Blount; "but perhaps," she thought, "when
the trunks were opened the showy garments,
and her own presents, of which not a word
had as yet been said, might appear together.
And wondering what these presents could be
-particularly the one sealed up so carefully
in red wax-she slipped off to the land of
dreams; there to see her name written all
over her beautiful books, "Experience Bond,"
and to hear the rude village-boys around the
tavern and market shout after her as she
went to the Post-office, "Experience Bond!"
and to take with childish delight from her
father's box a gilded letter from Aunt Caroline, directed to "Margaret Experience Brewster Bond." But the night, with its imaginary




70         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
troubles, passed away, and the dear child
awoke in the morning grateful for all her
mercies, among which was considered as not
least that she was still herself father's dear
little Maggie Bond.




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         71
CHAPTER V.
-)ORNING came to the cottage with
ti   blessings on its wings. It brought
0^^  hope to the pastor, sleep to the
suffere, joy to the child, a magic
anodyne to grandma's chafed spirit,
patience to Nancy Darby, and a good breakfast-than which no boon could be more
welcome-to the new servant, Kitty Flynn.
Every one seemed resolved to be cheerful and
content; so that when Madam Bond ordered
her trunks to be carried up-stairs, Nancy
called Kitty to the work, albeit she would
have chosen that the command had taken the
form  of a request.  She rejoiced  at the
prospect of the trunks being opened at any
sacrifice of feeling to herself; as Maggie,
child that she was, knowing that they contained her hidden treasures, kept gazing at
them, in the same spirit that the merchant
looks through his telescope at the quarantined




72        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
vessel laden with his, as yet, unseen riches;
or as the student with his longing eyes feasts
upon the books which are yet to unfold to
him stories of mysterious lore. But to the
amazement of Nancy, "big trunks, little
trunks, band-box, bundle," were all packed
away in a dark closet at the end of the hall,
to be opened, their owner said, "After a few
days, when she should feel like it."
"If I may make so bold, madam," said
Nancy, "I would like to ask one favor; that
is, that you would take out Maggie's presents
now, as the poor child is all impatience to see
them. When I put her to bed last night she
made me guess for ten minutes what they
were, and then she guessed.  You know
children are children, and we were all children
once, ma'am."
Madam Bond turned her cold, gray eyes on
the presuming speaker, and asked in great
surprise, "What presents are you talking
about?  Who said I had brought her any
thing?"




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         73
"Her aunt, Mrs. Percy, wrote about them,
and her poor little heart can't wait any longer,"
answered Nancy, nothing daunted.
" When did Mrs. Percy write that, I should
like to know?" exclaimed the old lady.
"Well, I guess her letter came by the same
mail or the very next one after your'n," replied Nancy.  "At any rate, I heard'em both
read at once."
"You heard them  read, did you?  Well,
Mrs. Percy never mentioned to me that she
was writing. I told her I would let them
know my own plans."  Nancy was silent; she
feared to go any farther, seeing that she had
already strayed on to forbidden ground. " But
as to the presents for Margaret-if there are
any, for I've not told her so-she must' wait
my pleasure for them. I'm sorry to see such
an avaricious disposition in the child. It will
be a good discipline for her to wait; it will
teach her patience. She's wonderfully like
the Hales-body and mind! Don't you see it
yourself, Nancy?"
7




74         MORNING-GLEAM: OR
"To be sure I do, ma'am; and that's one
reason she is so dear to my heart. Them
Hales is dear, lovely, Christian people, and it
does seem hard to have them so far away from
us. But their letters are like good news from
a far country; and by-and-by we'll all be
together again. That'll be a blessed day for
our dear Mrs. Bond, she does love her people
so! What a comfort it would be to us all if
they were only as near as they used to be
afore they went West."
"Umph " sighed  Madam  Bond, as she
turned the key upon her trunks and Maggie's
hopes.  "If you think Mrs. Bond is ready to
see me, Nancy, I'll go into her room,now."'You can go in, but, remember," said Nancy,
"the doctor says ife depends on quiet!  Her
disease is in the heart, so we must all look out
how we meddle with her heart."
Madam  deigned no reply to the faithful
nurse, but obeyed her orders to the very letter,
from a stern sense of duty.  Had she believed
it binding upon her to sit by the bed till




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         75
death released her, she would have done it;
and not one of the Brothers of Silence from
the Convent of Pisa could have kept his vow
with more faithfulness than did she her resolution in no way to annoy or disturb the
sick one, to minister to whose comfort she had
come.  Hers was no soft woman's heart to
melt at the sight of suffering; but rather a
battering engine to drive it away. With the
spirit of Peter the Hermit, she might, had she
lived in the time of the Crusaders, have led
an army successfully to the rescue of the
Saviour's tomb from the hands of the Infidels.
It seemed indeed a sad waste of noble energy
that she could do nothing of the sort in the
times on which she had fallen; for she was as
one born out of due season. She had the
soul for any fate: she could fight, labor, eindure-any thing but yield. That word was
not in all her vocabulary; and so fearful was
she lest she might some day be called to such
a trial that she avoided looking any subject
in the face on which she had once expressed




76         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
an opinion.  Had she been, like Cranmer,
called to go to the stake for her faith, she
could have done it with a firm tread and head
erect; but never like him recanted and then
held up the treacherous hand, publicly confessing that with that he had sinned, and
begging that that might be first consumed.
She looked upon death as an inevitable law
of nature; and considered it rebellion against
High Heaven to mourn the lost. She could
say with truth that her lovely first-born babe
had been given to God, not torn from her embrace by death as a ruthless tyrant; that her
own hands had laid it in the coffin, rejoicing
" That aught so pure, so beautiful, was hers
To bring before her God."
And when the noble partner of her life was
stricken down by her side, she quailed not,
neither did her faith fail her; but, pale, stern,
and enduring, she sailed on through life's cold
waters with her children, like a majestic iceberg decked with unnipped blossoms. She
was a noble woman with one great lack in her




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        77
character-who of us has less?-that one
element, undefinable, which makes woman
what she is as wife and mother, sister and
friend.  She would have made a splendid
Lady Abbess had she been a Roman Catholic,
a Maria Theresa had she been a Queen; but
being neither, she had done much good in the
world by her firm principles and resolute,
untiring action. With all her lack of tenderness and womanly grace of heart and manner,
let us do her full justice by saying that the
world would be a better, a holier, a happier
place were there more in it like her. Could
such energy as hers have been diffused among
her gentler, lovelier sisters, what might not
woman accomplish in that cause so dear to the
Christian heart, in which, since she stood in
all her meekness and sorrow beside the cross
and the sepulchre, she has been so important
a laborer.
Now, icebergs melt when they float through
sunny waters, and stones are worn away beneath a continual dropping. It was impossi.




78         MORNTNC-GLEAM: OR,
ble to dwell in the atmosphere of MorningGleam without feeling its softening influence;
especially now that even Nancy Darby had
resolved to bear and forbear, to yield every
personal feeling for Mrs. Bond's sake, and
what she couldn't do for hers to do for
Christ's sake. Things moved on so smoothly
that the humble woman declared she could
never doubt again that all things work for
good.  Madam was permitted to carry the
keys, to deal out the medicine, and to have a
general supervision over the sick-room, while
the labor fell on others.  Thus she was
allowed to feel that her coming was not in
vain, while Mrs. Bond was favored with the
more congenial nursing of Nancy, and the
old lady spared time to visit with little "Margaret," as she insisted on calling the child,
the poor and the sick of the village. Her
gifts to these were never of the delicate kind,
such as flowers, birds, jellies, and syllabub,
but of the more substantial sort, as soup, beef,
red flannel, and coal.




THE PASTOR'S I)AUGHTER.        79
Among these sufferers she found one most
congenial spirit —old Betsy Simpson-a pauper, or rather a pensioner on the bounty of
her brethren-both lame and blind.   So
inured had she become to suffering and privation that it seemed to her as her rightful
heritage; and her strong will enabled her to
endure, while her firn, noble faith saw blessings where others could discern only afflictions.
Nurtured by the bitter draughts her great
Physician had seen best to administer, she
grew in grace and became strong in the Lord
and in the power of his might; while many
around her, fed upon the finest of the wheat
and nourished upon strengthening cordials,
grew weakly, sickened, and perished by the
way before they even caught sight of the
promised land.  The conversation of these
two strong-minded women was not without
its effect on the tender heart of Maggie, who
was ever a patient listener.  There were
points in which they were unlike: one could
endure tribulation, the other rejoice in it; one




80         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
could do a favor but never receive one, the
other could gratefully accept, without the
power or the prospect of returning all which
Providence sent in her way. The one was
born in a certain church (so she said), therefore
that church must be founded on a rock, and
its smallest tenet immutable; the other was
"born in sin," and, when brought to God,
without any predilections or prejudices for or
against any particular creeds, had searched
the Scriptures with all simplicity of mind to
ascertain the will of God, neither daring nor
desiring to add to or to take from the inspired
standard of truth. There were, therefore, as
we may well suppose, some decided points of
difference between these two women.  Still
their Christian experience was in a good
degree the same; and upon it they both loved
to dwell.
"Ah, yes," sighed out Madam Bond, as she
sat in the poor apartment of Betsy Simpson,' we have both been led through thorny paths,
through floods and flames, and the only won



THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         81
der is that we are here to-day in the land of
the living! We both have one mercy leftwe are out of hell!"
"Oh," cried Betsy, "we each have ten
thousand mercies; every breath we draw is a
blessing from  our Father's hand, and I can
truly say, to the praise of Iis grace, that
poor and blind and maimed though I am, I
enjoy life far more than scores who have
plenty, and the health and senses to enjoy it."
"Our afflictions have been of a very different nature; for I suppose God deals out to his
rebellious children just that discipline which
he sees best calculated to humble them," replied Madam Bond. "I don't think there are
many women who could bear better than
myself the death of their friends; and I do
believe, had I been called to drink the cup of
poverty or endure bodily pain, I could have
done either with a martyr's spirit! And I
often think such would have been better discipline for me, than the galling mortifications
which have been laid upon me."




82         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
Betsy turned her sightless balls toward the
speaker, and her lips parted as if she were
about to ask what had befallen her that had
brought such disgrace; but probably the
supposition that she had ruined sons-one in
prison, and another, perhaps, sentenced to be
hung-may have checked her question. She
simply said, "Well, every heart knoweth its
own bitterness, and the stranger intermeddleth
not with its joys."
"I've had few joys, that any one would
want to meddle with," said Madam Bond,
mournfully shaking her head and sighing;
"and, as I said before, I really think that
crushing trouble would have been better for
me, and I'm  sure easier to bear, than the
grinding mortifications which chafe without
probing the proud spirit."
"You  may  have thought, ma'am, that
Abana and Pharpar, rivers of your own
selection, were quite as cleansing as the
waters of Jordan, of God's own choosing.
But we must yield to him, and receive our




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        83
cleansing where he appoints. He won't consult our pride and vainglory when he deigns
to heal us. I don't know what your trials
have been, but I doubt not you will praise
God for just what he has sent when we get
home."
Madam Bond, heaving a sigh which might
have drawn sympathy from a stone, exclaimed,
"My chief sorrow has come through my children-disappointment in all my hopes of
them! Now, whether this is for a judgment
on my laxness in early discipline, or whether
it is that chastening which for the present is
not joyous but grievous, I know not."
"Ah, poor, dear woman!" exclaimed Betsy,
in a tone of the tenderest sympathy, "my
heart aches for you! But God is able to bring
them back to the paths of virtue. I never
knew before that you had any other children
but our minister and Mrs. Percy, both of
whom are an honor to you."
"They are all I have," replied madam, in
her calm, cold voice; "and, as the world judges,




84         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
I might be proud of them. But it is a sore
trial for one of my temperament to feel herself forsaken of her children in her old age."
Poor Betsy could not read the countenance
of her visitor, and as she well knew that she
lived with Mrs. Percy, she couldn't understand
in what sense she was forsaken; so she kept
silence.
" My son, your pastor, Betsy, is a truly good
man; but he has forsaken the church of his
fathers-the first of a long line from the Pilgrims to do so-turned a deaf ear to all his
widowed mother's entreaties, set at naught all
my baptismal vows for him, and scorned his
consecration in infancy. Mind, Betsy, my
good woman, I am  saying nothing against
your church-indeed, I believe there are good,
well-meaning people amongst them; but it is
against my own son for leaving the faith in
which he was born, and trying to pull down
that which his forefathers built up with sacrifice and toil."
A quiet smile passed over the face of the




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        85
blind woman as she said, "Well, Mrs. Bond,
we must leave these matters of conscience for
each to judge of for himself. We must all
answer to God for the use of the light he has
given us."
"It was no matter of conscience with my
son," replied Madam  Bond, a little nettled.
"While in college he fell desperately in love
with old father  lale's daughter; and while
his head was half turned with  romantic
nonsense, the family, through Rebekah-a
lovely Christian and a very charming woman
-inveigled him into their church!"
Betsy evidently understood her visitor too
well to enter into any argument, so she only
replied in a soothing tone, "You still have
Mrs. Percy with you."
"Yes, in name," replied madam, sighing.
"But she is more than half Baptist; and were
I in my grave to-morrow might be a whole
one.  She has great charity for all, and cannot sympathize at all in my decided views.
And as to my dear son, he is now as obstinate
8




86         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
in his belief as if a voice from heaven had
proclaimed in his ear,' This is the way: walk
ye in it!' I never could see where he got
that stern resolution: he surely did not inherit
it from his father, for he was a man of the
loveliest temperament, and ever ready to
yield-save where conscience was involved!
Obstinate he never was. But my lot is as it is;
and I have only to submit to it, and endure
with as much patience as I can command."
Notwithstanding she saw  the perfect absurdity of Madam Bond's ideas of trial, poor,
innocent Betsy really pitied her; for she had
learned by experience that our lot is often
one of joy or sorrow according to the medium
through which we view it. She, the poor, the
feeble, the friendless, the blind, the maimed,
actually pitied the lady of means, of health,
and vigor, surrounded with friends and cherished by affectionate children. Gladly, had it
been in her power, would she have shared with
her the sweet spirit of content our Father
had sent to sweeten her otherwise bitter cup.




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         87
But she could not: it was a heritage which
she had not power to communicate, and one
she would not have exchanged for worlds.
Ah, there is many a king, many a priest unto
God, many a princess, in the cheerless walls
of an almshouse; but are these therefore
poor?  Nay, they may in reality be the rich
ones of the region; those who, could all be
laid open, would be the envied of their neighbors?  Betsy Simpson carried about with
her from day to day the dignity of a king's
daughter, although the purple and the fine
linen were not hers now, but were reserved
for another and a rapidly approaching day.
She coveted no man's gold or silver, but
rejoiced in her own lot-the necessaries of
life now, and, beyond, an inheritance in light,
undefiled, never to pass away.




88         MORNING-GLEA M: OR,
CHAPTER VI.
S the days wore away, Maggie became
well assured in her own mind that
\ipJ   one, at least, of grandma's trunks
must have been removed from  the
dark hiding-place and opened; for
one dress after another-satin, silk, or crape,
though all of the same sombre hue and puritanical cut; shawl, mantilla, and cardinal;
caps trimmed with black, white or purpleappeared as occasion required. Nancy Darby
"felt sure that all them was never packed in
her ridicule, and the stern old lady was trying,
in a most tantalizing manner, the patience of
our dear child, and showing that she meant
not to give up the package Aunt Caroline
had sent until first teazed for it; when she
would say in triumph,'Oh, how much that
child is' like the Hales!'" So the loving
creature gave the little one she loved a lesson
on the subject.




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         89
"Maggie, my dear," she said, one day, "I'm
as sure as I want to be that them trunks have
been opened, and that madam  is expecting
every day that you'll ask for your Aunt
Caroline's present. But don't you do it, dear
-on no account, don't! For everybody loves
patient children, and your grandmother will
think ten times more of you if you can live
as long without them as she can with them.
INow be a good, obedient child, and never let
her know you remember any thing about her
promise, and then next time I go to Boston
I'll buy you'The babes in the wood' and' Cinderella, or the glass slippers'-two beautifuil books we used to have when we were
children and lived in the pine clearin's back
of the town where your Grandfather Hale
spent his life afore he went out West to end
his days with your Uncle John-the dear,
blessed old man. Oh, how  beautiful your
mother used to wait for things when she was
little! She never teazed, nor worried, nor
fretted, and everybody on earth loved Re



90         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
bekah Hale! I guess they did love her, and
they'll all love you too if you're like her."
Now Maggie Bond, with all that was silly
and childish about her, was remarkable for
some traits which would be an ornament to
any person. She, like her grandmother, had
a great deal of resolute endurance; and having been trained to the most implicit obedience
from her earliest days, it had become as second
nature for her to yield her own will to that of
her superiors.
"I'm very glad you told me not to ask for
my presents, Nancy," replied the child, "for I
was just thinking I would this afternoon, as
maybe grandma had forgotten them."
"Forgotten them?  No, no, child! It's
only sick folks or weak-minded ones that
forget. She never does, nor do any such wise
ones."
"I don't forget, either, do I?" cried Maggie,
her eyes brightening at this new evidence of
her own wisdom.
"No, no," answered Nancy.  "You've got




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         91
a great deal of your grandmother's blood in
you; and," she added in an undertone, as if
speaking to herself, "I guess she'll find it out
before she goes home. I've heard that people's
looks and ways oftener show themselves in
the second than in the third generation after
them. I guess she'll see that there's some
Brewster in folks as well as Hale! Now you
remember, dear, to do just right about this,
and when your presents come, they'll look all
the handsomer to you than if you'd got'em
the first night. Why, think on't: if you'd had'em right off, you wouldn't care half as much
about them to-day! If'twas candy,'twould
have all been eat up'fore now; if books,
you'd have read'em all through; and if toys,
we should all have admired them and they'd
be an old story, like them Aunt Caroline sent
three years ago. Don't you see?"
"Why, yes!" said the happy creature, with
a smile; "and they're all as new now as if
they were in the store and not bought yet!
Nancy, if it's a little gilded tea-set like that




92         MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
Mrs. Blount brought home for her little
granddaughter from France, won't you play
tea-party with me once?  You know I can't
have any little girls to play with me while
mamma is so sick."
"I guess I will play tea with you, and I'll
bake pies and cakes just big enough to match
the dishes," replied Nancy, laughing till the
tears ran down her plump, crimson cheeks.
"And I'll do more'n that: I'll make the folks
at the table play tea out of them once, at any
rate. You shall sit at the waiter and pour out
tea for your grandma and for your papa, and
I'll see that they both drink it!"
"Wouldn't that be funny!" cried the happy
child, clapping her little hands. " But would it
be polite to make an old lady play with a little
girl?"
"Oh, la, yes, child; people must learn to be
like children when they're where children is,"
said Nancy.
"Do you believe grandma would laugh?"
asked Maggie.




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         93
"We'd make her laugh; it would do her
good and make her happier, too," said Nancy.
" But oh, Nancy, suppose my present should
be a silk dress or a new bonnet! Wouldn't
that be dreadful? You know I don't care for
fine things, and pa and ma and you think I
look just as sweet, and sweeter, too, when I'm
neat and clean than when I'm dressed up like
a doll."
" Well, I'll tell you: if there isn't a set of
china, after all the calculations we've been
makin' to have tea-parties, I'll just go into
Captain Blount's and look at Blossom's, and
then I'll send for one by the store-keeper to
Boston, as near like them as Boston can afford.
I will, if it costs me a fortnight's wages; for
you don't have money spent on you as some
do, that ain't half so dear and good as you."
" Oh, Nancy, how kind you are!" exclaimed
Maggie. "How I do wish you had never
grown big, but stayed a little girl, just such
as when you used to live with Grandma




94        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
Hale. Wouldn't you and I have nice times
now?"
"Yes, dear; but then if I was a simple girl
of twelve years, who would cook for you all,
and wash your clothes, and lift poor, sick
mamma softly in their strong arms, and get
up in the night to give her medicine, not to
disturb poor papa and make his head ache so
that he couldn't study his sermons? I guess
poor Nancy is good for more as she is, than
she would be if she was only a foolish little
playmate for you."
"I think so, too," said Maggie; and laying
her curly head down on the broad shoulder
of her humble friend, she added, in a subdued
voice, "What should I do now, Nancy, without you?"
"Oh, God would provide for you, dear, if I
was dead."
"But if you don't die, you'll always stay
with me won't you?  It would break my
heart to have any lady take you away."




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.    95
"I guess so, child; but what put that in
your head?"
"Oh, that night that papa married big
Mellissa Drake, I heard her husband tell him
that he had so many children to be taken care
of, and so much hard work to be done on his
farm, that he thought the best thing he could
do would be to marry a smart, tough woman
to help him. I couldn't sleep, I was so afraid
some man would want to marry you. You
ain't half so big nor so old, and you are a
great deal handsomer than she is!  Now,
Nancy, promise me that you won't get married if anybody should want you."
Nancy laughed heartily. "I can't make no
rash promises, child," she said, "but I never
had such a thought in my life; nor I don't
never expect to have. But if a prince should
come along in a pumpkin chariot with six mice
turned into horses and take me off; like Cinderella in the story-book, you shall go too!
No, dear: poor Nancy never expects to leave
you till she goes to heaven. But just see who




96        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
this is looking for you. Here's your dear
father, with his big hat on, and his basket and
hammer, calling,'Maggie!' I guess he's going
up to crack the stones in the mountains!"
"Maggie! Maggie."
"Yes, father dear, I'm coming," shouted
the little girl, as with broad hat on her arm
and her curls floating in the breeze, she ran
to meet him at the gate.
They walked on some time in silence toward the rocky eminence behind the cottage.
"Why don't you talk, Maggie?" asked her
father. "You generally have some questions
to ask when we are alone together."'I was thinking of one when you spoke,
papa," said the child, "and my lips were halfopen to ask it; but I was afraid it wouldn't
be just right in me."
"What is it, my love?"
"Were you ever naughty when you were
young, so as to grieve poor grandma and make
her cry?"
Mr. Bond smiled at the artless question.




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       97
"Yes, my dear, I am sorry to say that I very
often did things which were wrong. I disobeyed my mother many times, and it makes
me sad to think of it, and leads me to do all in
my power to atone for it by kindness to her
now. I hope you will help me in this work,
and treat my mother very tenderly. She was
a good mother to me, Maggie, and trained me
up to fear God, so that I owe her a great debt
of gratitude. Besides this, she is growing old,
and therefore should be treated with great
respect. As you read your Bible more and
more, you will see how tenderly the great
God speaks from  heaven of the aged-the
hoary-headed; and nothing displeases him
more than to see the young and happy ridicule these or deal unkindly with them. The
gray head is a crown of glory to those who
walk in the ways of righteousness."
"What kind of naughty things did you
do to grieve her, papa, when you were a
boy?"
"Oh, sometimes I used to go fishing and
9




98        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
bathing in places she considered dangerous;
and once, when she had forbidden me to
mount strange horses, I hired one at a stable
and rode off many miles with the naughty
boy who tempted me to do it."
"Was grandma crying about it when you
came back?"
"No, my love; I cannot remember ever
having seen my mother shed a tear in my
life. She was always a very strong womanunlike your dear mother-and could endure
a great deal more trouble without being made
sick by it."
"Did you never see her cry? Then I
guess nobody ever did when you were young.
I've seen my mother shed tears when people
died or had trouble, even if they were no relations to us."
" Well, dear, your mother and mine are
very different; both would do a great deal to
remove sorrow, although one might do it with
tears and the other without."
"But, papa, did you never do any very




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER. 
wicked thing for which grandma could't quite
forgive you?"
"Oh, I hope not, my dear. God in his
mercy has always kept me from open sin; and
although there has been much that was unholy
in my heart from childhood to the present
time, yet I have been what the world would
call a moral man and a good, affectionate
son. Why did you ask that question?"
"Because it troubled me, dear father. I
was sure that you were the best man in the
world, and yet grandma seems all the time
grieved with you."
"Oh, no! I don't thirk so, my daughter.
She never says so to me."
"But she told poor Betsy Simpson that she
had seen a great deal of trouble worse than
grandpa's death, and that it all came through
her children. She said you had forsaken her
in her old age, and done something which
would grieve the Pilgrim Fathers very much
if they were alive to know  it-something
which none of their descendants ever did but




100        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
you. I was so sad that I could hardly help
crying, and kept trying to braid the fringe of
my shawl and to think about something else
to keep back the tears in Betsy's room. It
has troubled me ever since, and yet I thought
you might be displeased with me for asking
what she meant."
Mr. Bond felt it difficult to explain the
matter to his child, doing justice to himself
and his principles, without making his mother
appear narrow-minded and bigoted; but he
could not help laughing at his imaginary sin
against those who upon our shores
"Sought a faith's pure shrine."
"Maggie," said Mr. Bond, "you have heard
little of the controversies among different
Christians.  But you know  that all good
people do not agree on every point. There
is Mr. Bolton, the Congregationalist minister,
whom I love as a brother, and who I believe
to be a true and humble Christian; and our
good neighbor, Mr. Talcot, of the Methodist




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        101
church, pious and sincere; and here is your
father, pastor of a Baptist church. Now, if
I really believed these two good men preached
the whole truth of God, and practiced his ordinances just as Jesus commanded, I would not
stay here trying amid so many discouragements to build up a Baptist church. The
other two meeting-houses would hold all who
go to the three. I would go and preach the
gospel where the people are not so well provided for. But as it is, I think it is my duty
to remain and tell the people just what Jesus,
my blessed Saviour, bade me tell them."
"Oh, papa  I'm so glad it is your duty to
stay here," exclaimed little Maggie.  "It
doesn't seem to me that I could live anywhere else but just here by this old mountain,
and among our own birds and flowers! Come,
papa, we have walked a very long way: let us
sit down here on our old fallen tree-I call
this my sofa-and rest, while you tell me
more about Jesus, and just what he wishes
you to tell the people."




102        MORNTNG-GLEAM: OR,
Mr. Bond took a seat, and laid his basket,
which had as yet received neither a mineral
nor a blossom, on the mossy ground beside him.
"Well, my dear, you see there are some
important points on which Christians differ,
or there would not be three churches here, all
of whom love the Saviour and strive to honor
him. Some good people are ignorant as to
what Jesus teaches; some are prejudiced; while
others are stupid or thoughtless, never examining any subject for themselves, but glad
to be relieved of that trouble by believing
whatever their parents or ministers teach
them.  Others again  there are who mean
well, but who think it makes little difference
what we believe or practice, if we are only
sincere and try to live about right. Jesus
has left us certain commands, and bidden us
to obey them if we love him. Some of these
may seem small to us, but they are important
in the eye of the Saviour, as tests of your
love to him. He has left word for us to do
whatsoever he has commanded, and it is as much




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       103
sin in us to refuse to do what we call a small
thing as what seems to our judgment of
more importance. Do you understand that,
Maggie?"
"Certainly I do, papa, and I wonder how
any one who has a new heart and loves Jesus
can refuse to do any thing he bids them. I
never will, when I'm a Christian," said the
artless child.
"Ah, Maggie, my dear, you will find that
you have an evil heart even when God renews it; as I trust he will by his Holy Spirit.
But about obeying him  in what men call'little things'-there were some thoughts I
wished to impress on your mind. Suppose I
should say to you some day,'My daughter,
bring a glass of water to my study;' but you
should reply,'No, father, I want to obey you,
but a glass of water is such a little thing it is no
matter whether I carry it up-stairs or not. I
will not do that, but I will take up your gold
watch here, that is worth something.' W ould
that be obedience to my commands?"




104       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
"No, papa; it would be very naughty. I
would never say that; and if you told me
to bring you a pin, I ought to take just that
to you and nothing else."
"That's it, my daughter," said Mr. Bond.
" I see that you understand what I am talking
to you about."
"Oh, papa, it's so pleasant to sit here in the
shade and listen to you!  How I do wish
mamma could come with us as she used to do
last summer; don't you?" said Maggie.
" Indeed I do, my dear; but if she who is
suffering so much in her lonely chamber is
cheerful and patient, we must be so, although
deprived of her company," answered her
father.  "Well, Maggie, we will suppose
another case where obedience would be a
proof of love. If your mother and I felt
that we should both die soon and leave you
an orphan, we should desire above all things
never to be forgotten by our only, beloved
child. To secure this remembrance of our
affection, of our countenance and our form, so




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.    105
that neither the amusements of childhood nor
yet the cares of after-life could ever obliterate
them, we might say to you,'Maggie, we are
going away from you to our beautiful home
above, where we hope to meet you when the
Saviour calls you from earth. But until that
time comes we want you to keep our memory
fresh, even should you live to be a very old
woman; and therefore we are going to leave
with you a request which, whenever you comply with it, will bring your father and mother
to mind.' Should you understand that?"
"Certainly, dear father; and whatever you
wished me to do, I would with all my heart as
long as I lived," replied the sweet child, with
love beaming from her bright eyes.
We might ask you to go once a yearperhaps 6n your birthday-and plant a little
willow in our family cemetery, and then, sitting
down beside our graves, to think of all our
love, and of our happy home-days when God
suffered us to dwell together a blessed family




106        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
band, as he now does. Should you think that
a very hard request?"
"No, indeed," replied Maggie. "I would
do a thousand times more than that out of
love for you, and so would any good child."
" Well, suppose you should do as we asked
for several years, and your little trees of remembrance should strike deep roots and put
forth green sprouts, and begin to cast cool
shadows over our graves-"
" Oh, how  I should love those willows I
They would seem  almost like friends who
knew and loved you," interposed the eager
young listener.
" Well," continued her father, "after a few
years childhood would pass away, and maidenhood would come with all its pleasures. Perhaps as your birthday drew near'and you
were preparing to plant another willow twig,
some friends might urge you to join them in
an excursion to the sea-shore.  You would
tell them of the sacred duty which required




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       107
your attention.'Oh,' one would say,' do that
any other day.' What would you reply?"
"I would say," answered Maggie, "my dear,
dead parents requested me to go to their graves,
to think of them, and to plant a little willow
every birthday as long as I live; and 1 shall
go that day."
"Well," continued Mr. Bond, "one of them
might urge you thus:' There are no willows
near here, but plenty of young elms: an elm
is as good as a willow and a great deal finer
tree. If you rise early you can put out an
elm, and then go with us afterward.' What
would you say?"
"I would say,'Those dear ones that I
loved so much bade me plant a willow, and I
will plant nothing but a willow, if I have to
walk twenty miles to get one, and then bring
it home myself!' I wouldn't have such
friends, papa."
Mr. Bond smiled at Maggie's earnestness, as
he said in his heart, "There is the old Brewster firmness and energy; God guide it aright 




108       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
But," he added aloud, "they may be on the
whole worthy young people, and you might
love their society. They would urge you to
yield to them, saying,'Your parents did not
care more for a willow than for an elm; they
only wanted you to plant something in the
ground which would prevent your forgetting
them.' You might follow the advice and-"
"No, I wouldn't, papa: I'd plant the willow
twig and that only," said Maggie, bringing
down her little foot resolutely on the mossy
earth beneath her.
"But we'll suppose that you did-"
" But, papa, I don't even like you to suppose
it, because I wouldn't I" insisted the child.
"Well, then, we'll let it be some other child
of whom  the request was made, and not
Maggie Bond at all. She yields the first
year, plants a young elm, gains an hour or
two of time, and with few thoughts of the
dead goes off with her friends. That very
act has its effect on her own heart, and in a
measure cooled the ardor of her love for the




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       109
departed. She feels a little guilty, and does
not love to think about them  as much as
before. When the next birthday comes she
needs no tempter save her own heart, which
says,' It is a great deal of trouble to get a
young willow, and an elm is no more what
my parents bade me plant than a shrub is: I
will put out a rose-bush.'  The next year
perhaps a crocus-bulb is more convenient, so
she buries that between the graves; and now
disobedience having gradually hardened her
heart, she almost forgets the spot when the
time comes round, and as she advances toward womanhood, the faces of those who
watched so lovingly over her infancy fade
like the pictures of a dream from her mind.
After years of absence she comes back, a
matron, to her native place, bringing her children with her, and takes them to the grave
where their grandparents sleep. But instead
of the close row of willows which they had
hoped would one day fringe the sides of the
cemetery, the children see only two or three
10




110        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
willows, an elm, and a worm-eaten rose-bush.
Do you think this mother would confess her
forgetfulness and ingratitude to her children?"
"No, sir; she'd be ashamed of herself, and
I should think she ought to be," replied
Maggie.
"It is not like our proud nature to confess
sin and then strive to atone for it. Should
one of her sons say,' Mother, this is a deserted,
neglected spot: let us, from common respect
to the dead, plant a few more willows around
the wall and improve the place;' she would
very likely be offended, and to take his remark as a reflection on her own filial love.
Well, my love, you have a better friend than
even your parents-Jesus, who has gone
above. He has left his will written plainly
in his word, and commanded us to obey him
in all things. He bids us walk in his footsteps, and keep his ordinances just as he has
given them. It is very dangerous to try to
improve his work, for the sake of our own
case, or of taking away the reproach which




THE PASTOR'S 1AUGHTER.        111
the world fixes upon the simple rites of our
holy faith. Maggie, whether we live or die,
I wish you to remember this conversation
about the willows, and it may aid you in
some hour of trial. Make it a rule of your
life, my darling, to ascertain exactly what the
Saviour requires of you, and then do it,
although it should cost you your life. They
who suffer with Jesus, Maggie, shall also reign
with him. Will you remember all this?"
"Yes, papa, I never forget any thing;
Nancy says I never do. I will try to obey
you and to do every thing Jesus bids me,
too."
"But, Maggie, the sun is sinking, and we
must hasten home, or dear mother will wonder
where we are. Yet I wish to answer your
question, which  led to  this conversation,'What I have done to  grieve my dear
mother.' I will tell you all about it as we
walk along.
"Jesus said to John the Baptist,'Thus it
becometh us to fulfill all righteousness,' and was




112        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
baptized of him in the river of Jordan.  The
baptism of. believers is called a burial, which
could not be done with a few drops of water.
Philip went down into the water with the
eunuch and came up out of it with him, showing that he could not have used a bowl for
the purpose.  John the Baptist baptized at
Enon,'because there was much water there;'
if a few drops had sufficed, they could have
done it anywhere. In Samaria they were
baptized,'both men and women, confessing
their sins;' not a word about the babies, who
were not conscious of sin. This then is our
belief-that Jesus was baptized by having his
body immersed in water, and that he comnands us who love him to do the same. We
know that this continued to be the general
practice for thirteen  hundred  years after
Christ. Sprinkling was introduced, by way
of convenience, in what were termed cases
of urgent necessity, such as sickness and approaching death. There is no account of
baby-baptism  for one hundlr ed  and  sixty




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        113
years after Christ; and then, and long after,
it was generally opposed, as contrary to Scripture. It crept in, along with other errors and
corruptions, from a superstitious notion of its
being a saving ordinance; and as sprinkling
was the easiest, that was adopted, except in
the Greek church. The opinion that baptized
children are somehow  better off and safer
than others, still prevails, even in New England, and it is a very dangerous error. There
was our friend Mr. Johnson, you know, a
member of Rev. Mr. Bolton's'orthodox'
church, who had his babe sprinkled an hour
or two before it died. We believe that all
who die in infancy are saved through the
blood of Christ; and a few drops of water, or
even immersion, could not make them safer.
But you see, my child, that if the baptism of
infants makes their salvation more certain, the
millions of unbaptized children are left in a
fearful state, if they die at that early age,
which is a dreadful doctrine, and without
warrant in God's word. Baptism  is good




114        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
and important in its place, as a profession of
one's own faith in Christ, and as an act of
obedience to his command; but great harm
comes from  any deviation from  the Bible
precepts respecting it. Christ enjoined immersion; but men have altered and added,
until baptism  is with many a very different
thing from what was appointed. Instead of
immersion we have sprinkling or pouring, and
in addition to believers, infant children are
brought forward as fit subjects of baptism.
And thus children grow up to think them.
selves Christians, and, in some cases, members
of the church, just because they have been
sprinkled by a minister. I know that my
good mother does not accept all these errors
that grow out of sprinkling and infant-sprinkling, but they are the natural fruit of those
perversions of baptism. Something else will
do in the place of what Jesus commanded.
And now because I chose to search the Bible
for myself, and to follow my Master in being
buried with  him  by  baptism, poor, dear




116       MORNING-GLEAM: OR
CHAPTER VII.
HIY, Endicott Cotton! my dear son!'
exclaimed Madam Bond, as they en
At,<  tered the sitting-room of the parsonage, where supper awaited them;
"I really thought you were lost;
and that poor child looks more like a young
Indian-between sun and wind and dust —
than she does like a white child-a Brewster!
Poor, neglected thing! how she is dragged
about like a young mountain-ranger!  Ah,
she's beginning already to feel what it is to be
motherless!" and the old lady looked at
Maggie with all the compassion which could
possibly be forced out of those iron gray eyes,
even had the heart been full to overflowing
of that grace.
Come here, my little Brownie," cried Mr.
Bond, holding out his arms to the child.
Maggie ran to him and sprang upon his knee.








I, ~
I'd
iiib~ ~~~~j-/,- ~/~iiL~,?,
7   ~     ~,,~   ~  J. /im j~i.,L.'  "'.




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.    117
Ier father untied the strings of her broad
hat, which grandma had dignified with the
name of "Margaret's umbrella," and holding
back her tangled curls said, "Now come here
and look at this face, mother. I suspect you
think it a very plain little face, but I know a
gentleman and lady who think it the dearest
little face in the world; and that two or three
additional coats of tan wouldn't have the
power to spoil its beauty."
Maggie, in her artless innocence, put up her
hands to assist in exposing her face for inspection, and turned round full before Madam
Bond.
"'Well, I declare," cried  the old lady,
"there's a strong resemblance, with her hair
in that style, to Lady Hope Brewster, whose
portrait is in our family. She was a strong
woman, a heroine of the faith. It was said
of her-so says the family tradition, which
has, you know, come down with the picture-'Beneath an angel's form
She bore a lion's heart.'




118        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
Why, the longer I look at this child the
stronger the likeness grows! Endicott, you
shall have that picture when I'm done with it,
for I'm sorry to say Caroline does not set the
value of a straw on it. Oh, Caroline hasn't
a drop of the Brewster blood in her veins,
nor a particle of noble pride in her ancestry!
She has wounded my feelings many times on
this subject, which you know is a tender one
with me."
Maggie was still holding her hair up from
its roots, hoping, probably, to gratify grandma,
till it drew her eyebrows up and gave her a
fierce, wild expression.
"There, love, you need not play Puritan
maiden any longer," said her father, "but
prepare for tea."
"Don't speak so irreverently before the
child, my son," exclaimed madam, in an imploring tone. "I wish her to remain till I
finish what I was telling  you  about my
honored ancestor, that cultivated lady and
noble-souled Christian. It is told of her that




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        119
one night, when her husband and the menservants were absent, she heard a loud groan.
ing under her chamber window. Those were
troublous times, and it stood the settlers in
hand to know whom they admitted into their
dwellings, especially when the men were off
with the firearms. They lived on Roxbury
Neck, and not a few houses had been invaded
there by the hostile Indians. The domestics
of Lady Hope Brewster clung to her, frail
and young as she was, imploring her as she
loved her life not to regard the tones of suffering, lest some vile creature might get in
through her tenderness and murder the whole
family; and-"
"Do tell the end quick, grandma!" exclaimed Maggie, with glowing eye and burning cheek. "I'm  so afraid our ancestor took
him in and got killed with a tomahawk."
"You shall hear, if you'll only have
patience, child," continued grandma. "I-Ier
maid-servants ran hither and thither. hiding
themselves in every conceivable place. But




120        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
her courage never failed. She, remembering
the Scripture injunction,'If thine enemy
thirst, give him drink,' took a lantern in her
hand and descended to the street-door. She
drew back the heavy bolt, which grated in its
rusty socket, and aroused the attention of the
sufferer. I tell you they did not use such
dainty polished locks and bolts and keys as
they do in our own day. Well, the Lady
Hope set her lantern down upon the doorstep, and wondering how she could ever, by
her own strength, get the wounded creature
into the house, went up to where he lay
moaning piteously. He strove to raise himself upon his elbow, but failing from weakness
he cried out,'Friend, will thee give a dying
man a shelter from the storm, till he can send
for the wife of his bosom to close his eyes, and
God will remember thee when thou comest
into conflict with thy last and mightiest foes?"'
"Why," cried Maggie, "he talked just like
our friend Obediah Collins. I do believe he
was a Quaker! Of course she let him in, for




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        121
the Friends are very harmless and  kind.
Everybody likes them."
"Of course?  Indeed she did not let him
in! Quakers of that day-whatever change
may have come over them since-were pestilent fellows, disturbing the peace and breaking, for conscience's sake, as they termed it,
the laws of the land.
"'Man,' she said, seizing her lantern and
examining the cut of his coat,'You are an
enemy of God, a reviler of the righteous, a
sower of seditions, and  dare  you  ask  a
daughter of the Lord, against whom you are
constantly rebelling, to harbor you beneath
her roof? I verily thought you a red man
of the forest, who, perchance, never knew
God, and thus sinned unwittingly against his
people;'" and grandma drew up her tall form
in conscious pride that she had descended
from this lion-hearted " Hope."
"I'm glad that is only a tradition, mother,"
said Mr. Bond, "and one, too, with feeble
evidence to sustain it; for I should be ashamed
11




122        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
of my ancestors could I believe that one of
them was so lost to all feelings of mercy."
"Why, Endicott, you interrupt me so that
I cannot finish my story. The tradition says
the sick man proved to be a Quaker of the
most seditious sort, who had disturbed the
church, and given a great deal of trouble to
the magistrates."
" Mother, I don't care if it had been Barrabas, the religion of Christ required her to
feed and shelter him. What did she do with
the passage of Scripture she had just quoted
to her maid-servants when she thought the
sick man an Indian-' If thine enemy hunger,
feed him; if he thirst, give him drink?'"
"Endicott, that reads'thine enemy;' she
could have forgiven him if that were all, and
by kindness heaped coals of fire on his head;
but these Quakers were the Lord's enemies.
Don't you, can't you see the difference, my
son?"
"Yes, mother, I do see that she looked on
the red man with the eye of mercy, and on




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        123
the dying Quaker with that of a stony-hearted
bigot."
"These Quakers were enemies of Goc, Endicott."
" Well, then, she should have remembered
that he had said,'Vengeance is mine: I will
repay.'
"Did she let him die out on the side-walk
in the rain alone?" asked Maggie, mournfully,
with tears in her eyes.
"No, child; some government officers passing at the time helped him back to the prison
whence he had just been discharged after
another whipping, and he died there before
break of day."
"Pa," said Maggie, drawing close to his
chair, "I don't want to look like that woman:
I hope you will never hold my curls up again
as long as I live, and please ask grandma not
to give us Lady Hope's portrait. I should
think of the poor Quaker every time I looked
at it."
"It is a very fine old painting, taken in




124       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
England, whither Lady Hope returned before
her death," said madam, with a wounded
tone.
"I should think it would bring a high
price as a relic of those old times, if it could
be proved genuine," said Mr. Bond.  "But
this Lady Hope is unknown in history, and
great doubt hangs over such traditional
characters."
"High price!" exclaimed grandma; "I
would as soon sell my birthright for a mess
of pottage as to part with that for money! I
am grieved that neither of you set a proper
value on it. Mr. Percy calls it a'daub,'
Caroline calls it'Mother's Quaker-killer,' and
you have no pride in any thing of the kind,
Endicott."
"Well, dear mother," said Mr. Bond, "had
that dying man been a Baptist, instead of a
Quaker, he would have met with the same
reception at the door of Lady Hope, if such a
lady ever lived; now should such days ever
return again, would you justify any one who




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       125
treated your son thus, because, with the eye
of Jesus, his Master, upon him, he can be
nothing else but a Baptist?"
"Those days never will return," replied
Madam Bond, evasively; "and here we are
keeping Nancy's tea waiting by our long discussion.  Margaret, as soon as you have
washed and untangled your hair we will sit
down, for I should think  you  and your
father were about exhausted by that wild
tramp of yours. Endicott, why won't you
let me cut off that child's curls?"
"Because we love to look at them-her
mother and I; and if she seems so homely to
you now, she would appear far more so without
them."
"I never said she was plain; but I'm sure
she'll never be so handsome as her mother.
Rebekah is to my taste a real beauty-or was
when in health. Her daughter looks more
like the old Hales." Mr. Bond smiled at the
keen relish with which his mother always expressed her ire against the innocent couple to




126        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
whose charge she laid the sin of his heresy,
when the truth was that they never knew of
the change in his sentiments until they had
given him the jewel of their heart-the light
of the parsonage.
"I shall not attempt to deny, mother," said
Mr. Bond, as Maggie ran out to prepare for
tea, "that my child looks like her grandfather
Hale, and that therefore she is not a beauty;
but she has a face which reveals intellect, and
I feel sure she will make a good, strong,
whole-souled woman. My ambition for her is
that she may be of that class to which Paul
refers,'Those women who labored with me
in the gospel.' I want her to be a toiler in
my Master's vineyard. I doubt very much if
my poor little girl will long have any duties
to keep her at home. Soon, very soon, dear
mother, there will be no household here to
require an angel-none to need her affectionate ministrations. Far rather would I look
forward and see her, when we are laid low,
taking up the holy work we have left un



THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       127
finished, than to see her an ornament of the
gay world. Her mother and I have in prayer
and faith given her to God, consecrated her to
his service-a living sacrifice upon his altar;
and the training you think so useless may be
just what she will need when her work
begins. Our first duty-after care for her
soul-is to give her, as far as in our power to
do it, a sound, vigorous constitution, and the
cheerful spirit which usually accompanies
that.  She may be fitting herself by these
long  mountain-rambles and this out-door
work for untiring labors among the jungles
of India. I don't know what use God will
make of her, but I do believe he will forbid
her being either a drone in his hive or a
butterfly outside."
"There, my son," cried Madam Bond, "don't
talk so. Don't put such notions in her head,
or she will devote herself to missions before
she is converted, just from romance and love
of adventure. She fears nothing, but rather
courts hardship. If you and Rebekah should




128       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
both go before us, it would be cruelty in the extreme to put any thing of the kind in her mind.
She is the only child in the family, and we
all love her and should look to her to soothe
our declining years. I believe Mr. Percy and
Caroline love her almost as if she were their
own, although they have seen so little of her.
I should say, if it were of any use, that I
love her too; but you always seem to think
I dislike the child, and it is very painful to
me, Endicott. I consider her an unusually
good little girl," added grandma, in a voice
which betrayed no little emotion.
"Dear mother," replied her son, "I know
you love Maggie and would make any sacrifice for her good, but I have thought sometimes that you did not make quite enough
allowance for the folly of her early yearsthat you did not condescend enough to her
low estate. But that she was dear to you for
my sake as well as her own, I never doubted."
"I will appeal to Nancy," said Madam BQnd
-the faithful woman was passing through the




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        129
room  to relieve Maggie, who sat by her
mother's bed-"whether I have not always
spoken kindly to Margaret-whether I have
not always been tender toward her."
"Nancy, as well as the rest of us, knows
that you  have, dear mother.  Now  send
Maggie down and let us have tea: we are an
hour past our time."
"But let Nancy reply to me," said madam,
who seemed pleading innocence against an
accusation of cruelty toward her granddaughter. "Did you ever see me treat Margaret any other way than with kindness?"
"Why, ma'am, I can't say," returned Nancy,
"that ever I thought you one of them that
was foolishly proud of children, so as to spoil
them by indulgence. But you've been clever
enough to ours. To be sure I have thought
you a little harsh about them presents Mrs.
Percy sent her. Five weeks has passed and
she knows the trunks has been opened, and
that they're somewhere where she can't get'er. It's more'n one of Job's girls could'a




130       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
bore, and yet she hasn't mentioned'em to me
for a fortnight!"
Madam's cheek flushed. "Really, Nancy,
you are right in that matter. I had entirely
forgotten that I had a package for the child.
I will get them after tea."
"Better get'em'afore," said Nancy, who
never quailed before dignities; "and then they
won't be forgotten. What be they, if I may
make so bold?"
Madam  Bond seemed unusually softened
and meek, and in no way did she resent the
undue familiarity of the independent Nancy.
"I brought her a package of books, myself-"
" That's good, so far. She's a dreadful child
for pretty books," interrupted Nancy, as if she
had been appointed judge to pronounce upon
the wisdom of the selection.
"And," continued madam, "I believe Mr.
Percy sent her a blue-bird he brought from
Paris, with machinery which, when wound up,
makes it open.its beak, raise its wings, and




THE PASTOR S DAUGHTER.        131
sing. It's a pretty thing, but I was really
ashamed of Mr. Percy and Caroline: they
acted like two children with it. It is much
more suitable for Margaret. I think Caroline
sent her a set of dishes, a couple of dolls, and
some things to wear."
"She didn't!" exclaimed Nancy, laughing
till the tears ran.  "Well, that is queer
enough!  Maggie said-the dear child-that
she hoped her present from Aunt Caroline
would be a tea-set. Please, madam, to give
the books to-night; but it's too late for the
other things. She would get so stirred up
that she wouldn't get to sleep till midnight!"
Just then the subject of Nancy's remark
came bounding into the room as fresh as if
she had  not walked a mile, saying  that
mamma wanted them to take tea, and that if
Nancy was busy she would lie alone for a
little while. The nurse darted from the door
like one guilty of great neglect, which she
was desirous of atoning for; and the little
family-group sat down to partake of their




132        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
long-delayed evening meal. This being over
and the things removed, Madam Bond, smarting beneath an imaginary accusation of not
cherishing maternal affection for her only
grandchild, rose and went toward her.
"Margaret, child," she said, "have you forgotten that I have some little treasures in my
trunk for you?"
" No, grandma, I have not forgotten it," replied the child.
"Then why have you not asked for them?"
"Because I wanted to let you see that I
could wait. My mother was always patient
when she was a child, and never teazed, and
everybody loved her. I want to be just like
my mother."
"Well, Margaret, you're a good child. I'll
give you what I brought you," and the old
lady disappeared from  the sitting-room  on
her mission to the dark closet, where she had
imprisoned her trunks. She soon returned
with a package, sealed in a most glowing and
mysterious manner with red wax, and tied




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        133
firmly with red tape. This on the buff wrapping-paper was calculated to make no small
impression on the mind of a little girl of nine
or ten years; and Maggie's bright eyes grew
brighter as knot after knot was loosened, and
seal after seal broken with most provoking
coolness and deliberation.  Nancy, an  interested witness of the scene, stood in the
door-way watching the process, when, the
bonds being broken, the parcel fell afloat,
revealing a wealth of good little books, in
paper covers, which had been supported on
either side by those bound in boards. Maggie
almost reached out her hand to these last in
covers gilt on red and blue; but another instant she remembered her old lesson on patience and drew back.
"Take them, child," said Madam  Bond,
"they are your own; and enough for a year's
reading for a wise little head like yours."
And grandma actually patted Maggie's head
in an affectionate way, and said in a soft tone,
12




134       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
"A nice little girl you are, as children go
now-a-days."
Maggie was completely overcome by such
unwonted tenderness, and felt much as she did
when she first caught sight of the inner heart
of good Nurse Green; and beginning at the
book nearest her, she passed on from title
page to title page, her color varying as she
read, and an expression of mingled disappointment and patient submission settling over
her face as she laid down the last.
"Thank you, grandma," she said, in a trembling voice.
"Well, how do you like my selection, Margaret?"
"They are very good books indeed," answered the child with a quivering lip.
"Did you ever see any of them, to know
whether they are good or not?"
"Yes, ma'am. We have'Abbott's Young
Christian,' and'The Life of Henry Martyn,'
in papa's library, and I have tried to read
them; then mamma has'Mary Lundie Dun



THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.    135
can,' and'Lady Huntington,' and sveen copies
of'Pilgrim's Progress.' The little, books
about good children who all died, you sent me
by Aunt Caroline two years ago. I read the
first few pages of them all; but the words
were pretty long and the thoughts pretty hard,
and I laid them away till I grow up; but
maybe I can understand them now. Thank
you, grandma," said Maggie.
"Be they Track S'ciety books, if I may
make so bold?" asked Nancy.
"Yes, NSancy; and you can read them too.
They are not beneath the full-grown Christian
-even the smallest of them," replied Madam
Bond.' Indeed they are not, ma'am; but a good
many of them are above the little child. It
would take an experimental Christian to understand  some of the  smallest of them.
Maggie said, when her mother read some of
them to her two years ago, that'she wondered if all good children had to die so young!'
She said she wanted to stay in this world and




136        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
comfort her father and mother before she
went to heaven to be happy herself."
Now  Madam  Bond had strict views of
reading, and thought it very inconsistent in
Christian parents to allow their children any
books save such as were strictly religious.
She thought it exceedingly wrong to illustrate
any doctrine to their minds unless by facts;
forgetting probably, good woman as she was,
that Jesus began his teachings in a way to
catch the ear and the attention of his hearers,
by parables or narratives rather than  by
elaborate essays on the doctrines and practices
of Christianity.  Who imagines that when
our blessed Master said, "Behold a sower
went forth to sow," he had any particular man
in his mind, of whom and the results of his
labors he was giving a precise account?
It is not well to be wise above what is
written, and we believe the best way to
present the truths of the gospel to the minds
of the young is that in which they can un



THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        137
derstand them, else the labor both to teacher
and scholar is lost.
"No, Nancy," said Madam Bond, "I don't
believe in presenting the gospel, with all its
blessed teachings, like a bitter pill, and sugaring it over with a tale, to cheat the child into
swallowing it. I think it should be presented
as strong meat, and they made to believe it
their duty to take it."
"Well, ma'am," said Nancy, "if you offer
beef to a new-born baby it will do one of two
things-it will either turn away from it and
starve, or else it will take it and choke to
death. So it is in teaching folks religion. I
can speak from experience; for they say that
old fools and wise children want about the
same management.  Oh, what beautiful ways
my dear old Mistress Hale had of making us
understand these things! True, we hadn't
such lots of library-books as we have now,
but she used to make up such sweet stories,
besides tellin' us things that she knowed
when she was young.  I believe in makin'




138        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
religion just as lovable as possible to the
ignorant folks and to little children. Jesus
did so when he was on earth. If them Jews
hadn't had in'em such evil hearts of unbelief,
they wouldn't have stood  out agin  such
preachin' and  pleadin'; but would  have
taken him, poor as he was, right into their
hearts and homes: But," she added, smiling,
"I guess my talk won't make learned folks
much wiser, so I may as well go about my
work."  And she vanished, singing
"Oh, how happy are they
Who their Saviour obey!"
"Well, Margaret," asked the grandmother,
"is there any more I can do for you to-night,
child?" This was probably to see if Maggie
had strength to avoid asking for her gifts
from Aunt Caroline.
"No, thank you, grandmother," replied the
child.
"Did you not know  that I had a little
package for you beside the books?"'Yes, ma'am."




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       139
"Then why haven't you asked for them
to-night?"
"Because I wished you to'see that I knew
how to wait," said Maggie, with a firm expression; "and besides that, grandmother,
Nancy says it will do myself good, teaching
me a lesson of patience, such as I would
never have had a chance to learn if you had
not come and hid my pretty presents away in
the  dark  closets among  the quilts and
blankets."
An expression of pain passed over Mr.
Bond's face as he laid down his newspaper and remarked, "Maggie has been the
child of so much love that no  one has
deprived her of pleasure for the bare sake
of teaching her submission. Our own joy
has depended so much on seeing her happy
that we have always gratified her when in
our power. I am glad to see that it has not
made her selfish or impertinent when brought
under restraint."
"I'm sure, Endicott, she has never been




140        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
restrained nor her curiosity tantalized by me.
At first I was too weary to unpack  my
trunks, and then I waited to be asked. for the
package, as Nancy told me Caroline  had
written about it; and as I had taken all I
need from that trunk it entirely slipped my
mind. I'm  sure I do not take pleasure in
disappointing the child."'Certainly not, mother; no one could say
so," replied her son.
"I will atone for my neglect by bringing
them  now, if you think best," said madam,
half rising from her seat.
"No, mother.  Nancy  said, I think, it
might disturb her rest. Maggie, my love,
Aunt Caroline has sent you some fine things
-one of them very rare-such as you never
saw before; but father thinks you had better
wait until after breakfast to-morrow  to see
them. Are you willing to do so?"
"Yes, father," replied the child.  "The
nights are not very long in summer, you
know. I'll try to wait one more."




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.    141
"She's certainly a good child," murmured
grandma, as if for her own benefit only"that no one can deny.  Her submission
speaks well for her training."
These words, low as was the tone in which
they were uttered, did not escape the ear of
Maggie, and she went to bed that night
happier than she had done for a long time.
She felt that in some unaccountable way she
had gained the favor of her grandmother, and
her little heart, ever yearning for love and
approbation, felt a calmness and joy for
which she could not account.
When Mr. Bond stepped into Maggie's
room-as was his custom before retiring to
rest-to see that she were sleeping sweetly,
to his amazement he found her eyes as bright
as if it were noonday.
" Why, my daughter! are you not sleeping
after our long and wearisome walk?  What
makes you  so wakeful, my  love?"  he
asked.
"Oh. papa," replied the child, putting one




142       MORNTNG-GLEAM: OR,
little arm  around his neck, as he bent
tenderly over her, "I'm so happy that I cannot sleep. I have to lie awake to think how
glad I am."
"And what is it that makes you so happy,
Maggie?  Not your present of books, for I
saw that you were a little disappointed in not
getting new ones which you had not seen
before."
"Oh, no, papa! I don't care so very much for
the presents, although I shall be happy when
I get auntie's; but what makes me so glad is
that grandma, dear grandma, has forgiven
us."
"Forgiven whom, my love?"
"You and me, father."
"But, my dear Maggie, she was not offended
with us; she had nothing to forgive."
"Hadn't she, father?" asked the child.
"But I'm  sure she loves us both more tonight than she ever did before. Didn't you
see her lay her hand on my head so kindlyjust like Grandma and Grandpapa Hale?




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       143
Didn't you hear her say I was a good child,
and that you and mamma had trained me
well? I shall never come in at the kitchendoor again for fear of meeting her in the
front entry. Oh, I did want to lay my head
on her shoulder and put both arms around
her neck when I kissed her'good-night,'
but I was afraid it wouldn't please her.
Still I feel so glad to-night that I cannot
sleep."
Oh, how little it sometimes takes to make
a young child happy! Is it not cruel, when
a gentle word, a soft tone, an approving
smile, can do it, that these should be wanting?
Remember, ye who have, under God, the
keeping of these young immortals' happiness, that the days of darkness are coming,
and that they may be many. Make them
glad while ye may.
"Ah, my dear little daughter," said Mr.
Bond, "I fear you never lay wakeful upon
your bed for gladness that Jesus had forgiven
your sins-that he had spoken in gentle tones,




144       AMORNING-GLEAM: OR,
saying,'I have loved thee with an everlasting
love'-that his hand lay in blessing upon
your head, and his soft wing overshadowed
your pillow. Did you, Maggie?"
"No, papa; because I never felt really that
Jesus was displeased with me. I know I am
not all his child —that I haven't a new heart;
but I'm not so very wiced,c papa. I never
took God's name in vain, like poor Mose
Sawyer;  I never stole  strawberries  nor
flowers nor melons, like poor Biddy O'Neil,
who has no one to teach her right; I'm never
saucy to people, like Jakey Smith; nor do I
ever play on Sunday, as the children we pass
on the railroad do."
"My child," said Mr. Bond, "your conscience
does not accuse you of any great sin toward
your grandmother-you have always tried to
treat her respectfully and with  attention.
Neither has she ever laid you under any
particular obligations.   You  have  never
needed to go to her for bread or garments or
medicine, and yet you are overpowered with




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       145
gratitude because she has spoken tenderly,
and shown that she has no ill-feelings toward
you.  Maggie, there must be something
wrong, very wrong, in your heart, which
seems so good to yourself. What has not
Jesus done to merit your love and gratitude?
Who gave you birth in a Bible-land and a
Christian family? Who has kept you alive,
by giving you his air to breathe, his bread to
eat, his water to quench your thirst? Who,
above all other blessings, has given you the
offer of life in heaven, and shed his own
blood that you might live forever? And yet
you, knowing that he has not forgiven your
sins, and that you have never asked him in
sincerity to do it, can lie down and sleep
sweetly night after night, not having any
pledge that you shall ever awake again on
earth! God bless you, my precious child,
and make you truly his own. God grant you
many a night, in the years to come, in which
you shall be'so glad that you cannot sleep,'
because he has spoken tenderly to you
13




146       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
and forgiven your sins."  And, with an
embrace which combined a father's love
and a mother's gentleness, Mr. Bond withdrew  and left the little one to her own
thoughts.
/)^ L      llllliLlk








"4;,i~j!'   j    _;j     ii! ii! C~'j
Morning Gleam P:~~~~~~~~~~~~~~nE~ A~147
Morning Gleam.
PAGE 147.




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.   147
CHAPTEi VIII.
FTER  breakfast next morning the
gifts of Uncle Percy and Aunt Caro-',j  line were duly exhibited and ad~:.    n mired, and the blue-bird honored by
making a short call on mamma, who
was highly gratified by its wonderful feats.
The cups and saucers were of the most
approved style and pattern, holding almost
half as much tea as mamma's; and Nancy
forewarned grandma and Mr. Bond that the
day was not far distant when Maggie was to
entertain them with a miniature tea-party,
when she should be lady at the head of the
table and they her company.  All smiled
approval of the plan, and Maggie asked,
"And wouldn't it be pleasant for Nancy to
carry dear mamma's supper up first, and let
her eat from these dishes-it would seem as if
she were playing with us too-wouldn't it?
But do look  down the avenue!  There




148       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
comes some one just like Bunyan's Pilgrim,
with his burden on his back, and a great stick
-staf, I mean-to lean upon; and he's looking up to Morning-Gleam Cottage as happily
as if he had got almost to the Celestial City!"
"Certainly, Endicott," exclaimed Madam
Bond, in a low tone, "that child gro'ws wiser
and wiser!   Most children, if they  had
drawn a comparison at all, would have said
that bag tied at the neck made them think of'The malt that lay in the house that Jack
built.'  I hope she may live; but I don't
know," added the old lady, with a mournful
shake of the head: "such children seldom
do."
"And oh, look, Nancy," continued Maggie,
"I really believe he's got a roll in his hand.
I almost think it is Christian. No, he looks
too happy and too  young for him.  He
couldn't smile so while he had the burden to
carry. How rosy his cheeks are, and how
light and curly his hair is! Who can he be,
papa?"




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         149
"You will soon know, my love, for he is
almost here. I rather think he is one of
Auntie Bell's swift-footed messengers; he
seems laden down as heavily as they usually
are when they come to the parsonage."
"What would you do without that Mrs.
Bell, my son?" inquired Madam Bond.
"I  need  not be anxious about that,
mother, as every church has its'Auntie Bell,'
under one name or another. I believe God
appoints to each these ministering sisters as
much as he does the angels to the churches.
Go where you will, to large or small branches
of the true Vine, whether in city or wilderness, and ask the servant of Christ or his
toil-worn companion, who it is that foresees
their wants, bears their burdens, supplies their
needs, sits by their sick-bed, and bears up
their fainting spirits on the broad, pure wings
of her beautiful faith?  Each one will tell
you,'Oh, we have a sister in our church.'
Yes, there is just such a sister in every
church!  When  God  calls one home. he




150       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
raises up another. A holy ministration truly
is theirs-'those women who labored with
me in the gospel.' If I have built up this
young church, if souls have been brought to
God through my labors, she must wear the
crown. But for her entreaties and encouragements I should long ago have entered another
field. Oh, mother, you will not leave Morning-Gleam till you learn the worth of that
woman."
A low tap at the side-door and Nancy admitted the pilgrim, who, with a modest bow
and many blushes, approached Mr. Bond and
laid his offering at his feet with these words:'Your Reverence, Mrs. Bell send to you one
bag crackers-in it ten pound white sugar.
She tell me give you this little letter, and she
tell you send by me how is de sweet lady sick
up-stairs.  And sair, my name Pierre Le
Bonne, French boy from Ca-na-da."
"Take a seat, Pierre, my friend, until I
read Mrs. Bell's note," said Mr. Bond; and,
with a manner not a little restrained, the




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         151
humble youth  did  as he was requested.
Nancy, by virtue of her office, took possession
of the crackers and vanished from the room;
while grandma took a book, and  Maggie
busied herself about her canaries' cages.
"Pierre, my good boy," said the minister,
rising and giving him his hand with a degree of cordiality unusual in a gentleman
toward a poorly clad peasant; "I'm truly
glad to see you. Let me take your hat, and
then I will hear all the good things which
Mrs. Bell says you have to tell me."
"I very'shamed to trouble such a fine
gentleman with my poor heart," said  the
youth, "but my kind friend-like mother to
me-she tell,'Reverence love trouble for
Christ's sake, and his heart so glad when one
poor French boy pray no more to Virgin, but
go to her Son, and say to him, My Lord an'
my God!'"
"Mother," said Mr. Bond, "if you will lay
aside your'Morning Exercises' for a little
while, T think you will be edified by the




102       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
conversation of this young stranger, thrown
in a providential manner under the influence
of our good Mrs. Bell."
Madam Bond graciously closed her book,
laid her gold-bowed spectacles in the place
where she had been reading, and took from
her pocket a bit of work she was doing for
her humble friend Betsy Simpson, and composed herself to listen.
"Now, Pierre, Mrs. Bell says you will give
me your history, and then tell me on what
points you need instruction and light. How
long since you left Canada?"
"It is two year long since I leave my
father's little cabin on the high bank of the
St. Lawrence. Then I am sixteen year old
that day; and my father have little work for
his many boy to do, and they eat great deal
of bread. Twelve children, boy and girl, in
my one family; only one older as me, and he
have lame place in the high top of his leghe what you call crip-pcl boy. So I say to
my mother,'I go off and get money far




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       153
away on the sea, and Carlos'-he then fourteen
year and good boy-' he chop  logs with
father, and cook the dinner, and hold the
baby, and wash little faces, and sew up holes
in the stockings, and every thing."'
"Did you do all those things when you
were at home, my good boy?" asked the
minister.
"Oh, a great many more things as that I
do for my good mother; and she cry her
face very red when I go'way from her," replied the artless Pierre.
"And where did you go at first?" asked
Mr. Bond.
"First I go to Calais, and then in a lumber-vessel I go into the sea to B. I get
twelve dollar every month to cook for the
men, till six months gone'way; then I buy
fifteen dollar of clothes, and all rest of money
Captain Lowe put on paper when we get
back here and send in letter to a good man
four mile from  my father's house.  That
man write letter that they bless their dear




154       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
boy, and buy flour and meal and: pork and
flannel with my money. But no more that
winter could I find vessel; so I will not go
home to eat up their bread, and I ask everybody,'Want. a boy to work?' An old
woman in the market in city say to me,'Yes,
my missus want a boy to make fire, scoiur
floor, sift cinder, and shovel snow. If you
steal not and get not drunk, she will give you
four dollar all month of winter, and as much
as you will eat.' That old woman was cook,
and. her missus keep grand boarding-house
full of fine lady and gentleman."
"And did you go there, Pierre?" asked Mr.
Bond.
"Yes, Reverence, she say to me,' Come tonight or to-morrow;' but she have too
heavy basket to carry; so I say,'No, but I
will go with you now and take home your
load. I be one week and do no work; I will
be glad to lift the meat and other thing for
you.' So she laugh and say,'Well, come
home with me. I will take you into the




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.    155
kitchen with:myselff  So when we go in
she! laugh to her missus and say,'I found
just the boy I want-not'fraid of work;' and
missus say,'Glad, Sarah, for you work too
hard.' To me she say,'Be good boy, and
Sarah will be friend to you.' Then she go
up-stairs and bring me down good coat and
pants and boots, and Sarah show me little
room  for myself, and I very happy, and
tears come in my eyes when I thank cook
and tell her how hard I will work for her."
"And you found this poor cook a good
friend, did you?" asked Mr. Bond.
"Oh, sair, very good. When I thank her
for bring poor strange French boy to a warm
home from the street, she say,'Thank not
me, Peter'-she always call me Peter-' I go
not out that day to find you. But God, the
great Father, look down from  heaven and
see you with no home, and he sent you to me
in the market; thank him.''Oh,' I say to
her,'I very, very good.  I pray to our
Blessed Lady two time every day and count




156       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
my bead;' and then I show her my beads and
this, which my mother gave me to keep the
witches off and to save me from  sinking
when I on the sea, if my ship be loss." Here
Pierre drew from his pocket a long rosary,
composed of rose-wood beads linked together
with plated rings, from the middle of which
was suspended a plated cross and an image of
our Saviour in his agony. This he passed
respectfully to Madam Bond, and then offered
the charm-a red morocco heart, said to enclose a piece of "the Virgin's bowels of
mercy"-to the minister.  "The first my
mother bring with her from  Avignon, in
France, and the other she walk nine mile and
pay ten shilling for, to Father Vogle, that I
shall be safe on the sea."
"And had you not common-sense enough,
young man," asked Madam Bond, who was
apparently interested in his story, "to know
that these things couldn't keep you from
harm?"
"No, lady," replied the innocent Pierre, "I




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       157
had no common-sense at all till I meet with
cook Sarah in market."
"She couldn't teach  you  that," replied
madam
"Oh, yes, lady; I just like little dog-what
I be teach I learn, and what I be not teach I
know not."
"Well, Pierre," asked Mr. Bond, "how did
poor Sarah teach you the way of life?"
"Oh, sair, she so full of pity for every
thing! She see my soul blind, and she say
to me,' Poor boy, pray God to make you his
child.' When little beggar come in, she sit
her up in chair by fire and feed her, and
warm her, and give her mittens. She knit at
night when fine lady go to the dance, and she
sit up to let her in,'cause missus gone to bed
sick with tired. Chamber-girl say she would
not give beggar any thing,'cause beggar's
father drink the rum; but poor cook say,'my father drink the rum  too, and nobody
warm me, nobody pity me; so I will care for
poor little beggar-child.' Some day she be
14




158      lMOPNNING-CLE AM: OR,
very tired when she work late. Then she
take little black book off shelf and read to
rest self. Then the tired look all go way, and
she look happy, and put up book and singoh, so sweet  One day I say to her,'That
book make you feel good: what tells it to
you?' She say,'All'bout my blessed Jesus
that come to this world to save the sinner.
He say to poor me, Come unto me and 1 will
give you rest. Oh, what rest that be! Oh,
poor little Frenchie,' she say-all the people
call me Frenchie —'Sarah wish you would
throw'way you foolish beads and come to
her Jesus.' But, sair, I cannot read her book,
and my heart ache when I look at it all time.
I think Jesus, that rest good Sarah and make
her full of pity and good, is in that book;
but I can never find him. My bead and
crucifix look poor and give me no comfort;
when I go bed I sleep not, because Sarah tell
me my soul not safe-that my charm cannot
carry me to Jesus nor keep death far off.
One day I sit all alone in kitchen, and I take




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.    159
down little black book and turn over leaf
after leaf and say in myself,'Oh, wish I could
tell which of all these many words is the
name Jesus!' Tears come in my eye and I
say,'loud out,'Oh, Jesus, poor French boy
try to find you, but he find not!' Sarah come
in, and big tears in her eyes; and she say
that every one that look for Jesus shall find
him. She lay her hand on my head and say,'God of the stranger, pity my poor darkhearted boy.  Take'way all his bad and
make him God's boy!' Then she take down
the book and she show me'Jesus;' she say,'J-E-S-U-s; that make the blessed name.' So
I turn over and over, and oh, I find many,
many times'Jesus,' and I want to cry out
loud,'My Jesus!' But my heart very sore,
and I'fraid, for Sarah tell he love not those
who pray to bead and wear charms and love
money or any thing more than him. So I
know he love me not, and my heart cry out'loud,'What shall I do?' And she tell me
go to my little room and say all time,'Take




160       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
me, Jesus-drive bead out of my heart;' and I
throw'way foolish things, and pray only to
God, who make me and who send his dear
Son to die for me.'"
Madam Bond had laid down her needlework and sat eying the humble stranger with
real tenderness.  When he paused for a
moment, she asked, "And how did that good
woman lead you on?"
"Yes, she lead me on, lady," replied the
poor youth. "She teach me some words in
that book:'Who come unto me, I will not
cast out;' then I say,'Jesus, I come.' She
tell me,'Who knocks, the door shall be
opened for him;' and I say,'I will knock at
God's door and never go'way till I die.' She
tell me,'Who believe shall be saved,' and
I say,'Oh, Jesus, poor French boy believe
every word you say in the book, and believe
none but yourself can save his soul, and believe, too, that you will do it!' Such thing
she tell me, and then she sing to me,




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        161'Jesus! I love his charming name,
His name is all my trust;
Nor will he put my soul to shame,
Nor let my hope be lost.'
And I sing out loud, too, although sing not
very good; and missus come in kitchen and
smile and say,'Ah, Sarah, you and Frenchie
turn Methodis?'
" Well, Sunday come, and all forenoon we
have work; but after dinner fine gentleman
try his horse, or smoke on portico, or lie on
sofa; and fine lady all go to bed. So we do
work quick and go to big church on hill. I
sit in Sarah's pew in gallery and listen so
hard; for my English very poor that time.
Dr. Raymond, Sarah's minister, talk very
nice and loud, but say very big word; poor
me un'stand him  not, only when he say,
Jesus, Jesus, Christ, Lord, God. He say these,
oh, many, many time, and heaven, and that
worth more as money to me! I can sit all
night just only to hear him say Jesus, and it
seem to me before he get through it am all




162      AMORNING-GLEAM: OR,
Jesus. Then when he preach no more, he
come down and put hand in silver bowl and
baptize the face of one gentleman, two nice
lady, and four baby-just like my old priest
in Canada.
" When I go home, Sarah tell me how
much do I un'stand. I tell her,'Jesus, Jesus,
and that enough now; I only want to hear
that and no more. My poor heart so small it
can hold no more as that till more days come.'
When Sarah take the book and light the
lamp, I tell her,'Your priest have no cross,
no bead, no host, like my old priest; but he
baptize like my old priest.  You read me
Jesus baptized, and the man and the woman
baptized; but you read not to me where the
baby too be baptized, and you not read me my
priest's way to baptize. Your book say, Go
into the river and be baptized.' Then she
tell,'Oh, I poor ignorant old woman and
know no more at all. I can't find the place
where it tells to sprinkle water in baby-face
-never could; but it.must be there, for my




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        163
minister knows every thing, and he baptize
the baby! Every day you learn little more,
Pierre, and by-and-by we come to that place,
and we'll ask Dr. Raymond too-he tell us."'
"Then she was teaching you to read, was
she?" asked Madam  Bond, who began to
nestle about a little, and put on her glasses
again, preparatory to reading out her chapter
in Jay's Morning Exercises.
"0, yes, lady, every day she teach me; and
one day missus say,'The black book too
hard;' and when she go out she bring in the
spell-book and slate and pencil for me. Oh,
I feel so good then the tears come; and every
day then I learn much fast. Missus write
little mark and then little word, and then I
write and write till ten,'lefen'clock, all
nights, and when snow  all gone I write
small letters to my mother in Canada. Oh, I
must go soon to them and tell them'bout my
new religion I found. Then they all believe
and love my Jesus too 1"




164        MORNTNG-GLEAM: OR,
"And how came you to leave your good
place, Pierre?" asked the minister.
" Oh, sair, they want not boy when no snow
to be shoveled, no coal put in cellar and
carry up-stairs; so they sew my clothes all
mend and clean, and missus give me carpetbag and every thing, and I come in country
to look for work on a farm.  I call at
house, house, many house, and all tell me,'No, got all man I want.' Dark night come
and I stop at Mr. Bell's, and he say,'No,' too;
but lady come out, and she say me,'Stranger?' and I tell her,'Yes.''Got any place
to sleep?' I tell her'No;' so she say,'I got
bed for stranger, and bread for stranger;' so I
stay there.  Next day she talk to me, and
then Mr. Bell say he will make work for me;
so I thin out the trees in grove and clear
under-brush, and I very happy indeed here."
And he laid his hand on his heart. "They
do sing, and they do pray, and they do love
my Jesus there in that house."
"And you  and  Mrs. Bell found that




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       165
although you had never met before, you belonged to one family; that you were both the
children  of God, and that Jesus is your
brother? I suppose you both talked together
of heavenly things," said Mr. Bond.
"Yes, sair," replied the good youth.  "I
tell that lady all my heart; then I ask her all
her heart, and say,'What you call your
church?'  She say,'Baptist;' and I know
not what is Baptist. Then she tell,'Jesus
was baptized of John in Jordan, and people
was baptized where was much water; and
Philip go down into water and come up out
of water when he baptize eunuch; and they
were baptize, men and women, confessing their
sins;' she say,'Like as her Master tell herlike as he set example, so she do.' She say,'Cook Sarah's book all true,' and that have no
word'bout baptize in the bowl-no word'bout baptize poor little baby cannot confess
sin, cannot know  any thing; that Jesus'
brethren and sister must'bey his command,
and will if they love him. Poor French boy




166       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
wonder much'bout Baptists; for I know not
there be such a named people in the world,
yet, when I read New Testament, I say in
my heart,'Why do all minister put finger in
bowl and call drops of water baptize?'"
"'The wayfaring man, though a fool, need
not err,' if he seek to know the way," said the
minister, "so plainly and simply has God revealed his will to us."
"I guess," said Madam Bond, tartly, "that
somebody put that in his head!  Are there
no Baptists in Canada, young man?". she
asked.
"I never hear of him there," replied the
untutored youth; "I hear only of Catholic
and Protestant."
"Well, my friend, you have a great deal to
learn yet more important than that. The
wisest scholars cannot agree on that knotty
question; so you, without a knowledge of
Greek, had better not try. Let mysteries
alone, and don't be wise above what is
written!"




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         167
"Thank you, ma'am-lady," returned Pierre,
to whom the remarks were quite unintelligible,
they having been uttered in a low voice, with
the eyes, those great interpreters, bent on her
work.
" You're right in the judgment you formed,
my friend," said Mr. Bond, "and glad should
you be that you in your ignorance have been
taught of God. You have received  your
Father's command, while many, because of its
very simplicity, turn away from it and seek to
mystify it, so that it may be hidden under
the vail of a dead language from the common
people, who, in all ages, are the first to receive
and obey gladly the message Jesus sends.
Immersion in water-on profession of our
faith  in  and love for Jesus-is the only
baptism, and if you have really found Christ,
as Mrs. Bell believes you have, it is your duty
to arise and be baptized."
"So I will, sair; and any thing else my
Jesus tells me, that I will do."
"Your champion will surely exert a great




168       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
influence through his theological learning!"
said  madam  in  a sarcastic tone, without
looking up.
"I would rather have his unbiased opinion,
founded on God's word, than that of many a
learned professor who has a system to maintain. Learning and theological acumen are
often used for a refuge in which to hide when
met face to face by an unwelcome truth," said
Mr. Bond.
"Ugh!" replied the old lady. "However,
my son, I think the youth has been converted."
"And so do I, mother; and I am ready to
lead him into the emblematic grave as soon as
my church receives him," replied her son.
"It seems rather a want of Christian
modesty, however, for him to come forward
in his ignorance and set up his opinion over
that of the greatest scholars of the age," said
Madam Bond.
"He does not set up his opinion: it is the
plain command of Jesus. And as to the




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        169
greatest scholars of the age being on the
other side, it is not admitted yet; and if it
were, instead of defying them, I doubt very
much if the poor fellow knows the name or
the existence of one of them.  Sometimes,
you know, dear mother, God reveals things to
babes which are hidden from  the wise and
prudent; and we must bow our pride and be
willing to receive his truth in the same
simplicity, or we cannot dwell in the light."
This conversation being held in a low tone,
and not addressed to him, had about the
same effect on the stranger as if he had been
a deaf man; so he sat smiling on Mr. Bond,
with whose condescension he seemed greatly
delighted. He now rose to go, and Mr. Bond
said, "I will see you again, my friend, at Mr.
Bell's, and talk with you on this great subject;" and wishing them  all "glad-morning," Pierre hastened off to his work in the
grove.
"That is no stereotype  experience," remarked Mr. Bond to his mother, "but a
15




170        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
genuine work of grace described in nature's
own words."
"It is certainly an interesting case, and I
truly rejoice that the poor fellow has met with
such a blessing; but really," continued the
old lady, "I do wish some of your new converts were people of a higher class. I know,
as well as you can tell me, that his soul and
that of Betsy Simpson are as precious as
those of the wisest of earth; but it does seem
strange that you, with all your ability and
learning and talent, should be drudging here
to build up a church, when you might be
settled  among  people  of mind, and  any
ignoramus could interest these!'
"There you are greatly mistaken, my dear
mother.  Although the great majority of my
people are plain in their dress and in their
style of living, I will not admit that they are
a whit behind any congregation in the region
for intelligence or piety.  And as to any sort
of a minister answering for a young  and
struggling church-that is a great mistake




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.    171
too. Such need'all the wisdom and influence
that the wisest and best man can bring with
him. I wish my people had a superior man
for a pastor; or rather I would say, I wish
their present one was superior to what he is;
for it is my wish to spend and be spent for
them. They are my people, bound to me by
a thousand ties of love and gratitude, and I
hope to live and die among them."
" Ugh! So I told Mr. Percy when he spoke
of your going to the Walnut Street Church
there.  I told him  you were so obstinate
that were they to offer you four times what
you had here, you would not go; for that
you  had prophesied a great, prosperous
church of your sect here, and you would stay
to fulfill the prophecy."
Mr. Bond smiled; but there was more of
pain than pleasure in the smile. "You were
quite right, dear mother, in saying that money
could not woo me from the people of my first
love; but I hope a better motive than to
obstinately carry a point or build up a sect




172        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
induces me to press on through all the difficulties which attend the establishment of a
church, holding, as this does, unpopular
sentiments, in a community where the main
influence is in another direction. I firmly
believe God has sent me here to preach his
truth, and to administer his ordinances in the
way of his own appointment."
"It must be a very comfortable feeling the
Baptists all enjoy-that they alone have the
truth," said Madam Bond. "I see how it is-'we are the people, and wisdom will die with
us.'"
"It is a consolation, certainly, to feel that
one has made great sacrifices for consciencesake; but, so far from believing that wisdom
will die with me, I think a good deal will be
left in the world if my mother survives me,"
said Mr. Bond, pleasantly.  "Will you bear
with your son, who loves you, while he asks
you a question he has never asked?"
"Certainly, Endicott, I love to argue," replied Madam Bond.




THE PASTOR'S DAUGITER.    173
"I don't love to argue, and am not going to
begin it. I only want to ask if you ever said
to your prejudices,'Stay ye here till I go to
the closet and the Bible and examine this
subject under the eye of the Master, to whom
I have sworn fealty in all things, great and
small?' Have you ever done so, my dear
mother?"
"No, nor do I ever mean to!" exclaimed
Madam Bond, warmly. "Do you think, Endicott, that I am going to insult the memory
of my father and grandfather and all my
honored ancestors by admitting even that they
were mistaken, and begin at this later day
to pry into things they left settled? No, indeed 1"
"Take care, dear mother," said Mr. Bond,
smiling, "lest you get your foot planted on
the Pope's ground and set up the infallibility
of a church."
"Ugh! it is this prying curiosity to get
hold of hidden mysteries which God has not




174        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
chosen to reveal, which makes the Baptists
so-so"
"So what, mother, dear?" asked the gentleman, smiling.
"So obstinate, my son! There is a sort of
consciousness of right and of superiority of
judgment in the very face of every Baptist
I ever met; this, with an expression of meek
endurance, such as the old martyrs might
have worn on their way to the stake, writes
BAPTIST on their very brows. I can tell one
when I meet him  in the street! And when
one wishes to argue a point with them, they
say so cooly,'Go to the New Testament-go
to the New Testament,' as if it was made for
them."
" But why should not all Christians carry
about this same stamp of the genuineness of
their belief on their faces, if they are as sure
of their ground as the Baptists are of theirs?
They have the same right to do so. -The
truth is, dearest mother, you are not agreed
among yourselves, now, as to the baptism of




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         175
infants. One of your lights tells you it came
in room of circumcision, thus, if consistent,
cutting off all females from  this privilege;
another tells you it was an ordinance instituted when Jesus took little children in his
arms and blessed them; and-"
"There, now; do stop, my son.  I hate arguments, and will not go any farther. I shall
hold on to my views, and you may, if you
will be so obstinate, remain away from the.
church in which you were born-"
"I wasn't born in a church, mother: I was
born in sin," said her son.
"And you may trample under foot the
covenant I entered into for you at the baptismal font: I shall be clear. I wish  now,
finally, to wash my hands of all participation
in your course. After this, if you go on in
the road of changes, till you land in some
great heresy, I shall feel clear of guilt."
"So you may, mother; you have done all
you could to keep me in the old paths; but I
hear a voice I cannot refuse, calling,'This is




176       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
the way: walk ye in it.' How thankful I am
that we shall dwell forever together where we
shall see eye to eye, and where, all the mistakes and errors of life having been forgiven,
we shall all be like our pattern," said Mr.
Bond.
"Oh, then," asked the old lady, as if in
surprise, but really in irony, "you Baptists
intend to let other denominations into heaven,
do you?"
"I hope," said Mr. Bond, "we shall be
among those who are washed and sanctified
and made meet for the inheritance of the
saints in light. I sit in judgment on none,
but must myself walk in the light God has
shed around me. There is but one thing in
all this world I cannot sacrifice to please my
mother: that is, conscience. So, as we cannot agree in all our views, we will talk no
more about our differences, but love and
enjoy each other while we may."
"I'm  sure I love you, Endicott; one
would think, to hear you  talk, that your




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.            177
mother was without natural affection!" said
Madam Bond.
"Well, I will tell them a different story,"
replied her son, "for you have been a faithful
and affectionate  mother to your fatherless
children, and they both  call you blessed,
to-day."
j I'~C 




178        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
CHAPTER IX.
OR  months the blinds of MiorningGleam  Cottage were closed and its
doors barred; silence, deeper than
that called for by the voice of sickness, reigned through its halls and
chambers.  One of its inhabitants-she who
had been its light and fairest ornament-lay
sleeping beneath the pure marble erected to
speak her praise by a weeping, bereaved
church. Another, "cast down but not destroyed,"-he who had pointed many a bleeding heart to the great Healer-had been long
months in foreign lands seeking health, a
boon he never was to find until he reachcd
the land where none shall say, "I am sick."
The darling of the cottage was now the darling
of a costly city mansion, far away from the
little family-cemetery which overlooked Morning-Gleam. But the dear wanderer over the
seas was not forgotten, nor yet forgotten was




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       179
the green corner where slept the beloved.
One little willow already dropped its lithe
branches over the headstone.
The months and seasons have flown, and
Maggie Bond is fourteen years old; tall, strong,
and, although far from handsome, possessing
that mingling of tenderness and resoluteness
in manner which makes the plainest lovely.
That fourteenth anniversary of her birth
Maggie and her family spent in a dear, sad
spot, at a solemn task. The heart which had
beat in love so many years for the people of
his choice lay still before them on the bier,
brought hither to be laid in his long sleep
beside the beloved. Mr. Bond had reached
his home to die with his mother, his sister,
and his child.
When the last touch of the spade had
smoothed the mound, a brother, by whose
side he had long labored in the ministry, said,
"Thanks be unto God who hath given us the
victory through our Lord Jesus Qhrist," and
pronounced the last "Amen."  Then the




180       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
weeping crowd withdrew, and the family were
alone. "Uncle Percy," one of Nature's noblemen, had, in regard to  Maggie's feelings,
caused to be brought hither another tender
willow, that her own hand might set it above
her father's new-made grave.
"Did your parents make this as a request
of you, my child?" asked her grandmother.
"They did not," replied she; "but my
father suggested it once in impressing a certain
duty on my mind-that of loving, and remembering, and obeying Jesus in all things.
I hope I may be able, as long as I live, to add
a willow to these two every year; thus keeping them  in mind, I shall not feel like an
orphan, nor homeless either, for this spot
seems now like my own dwelling-place. Do
you see, my dear, kind uncle bade the undertaker save a place for me between them?" and
she gave Mr. Percy a look of gratitude which
more than repaid him for all the trouble he
had  ever. had through  her. Maggie then
related the conversation of her father in the




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.      181
grove above them, and told of the pledge she
had given him, that she would ever in all
things follow Jesus closely, through evil as
well as good report. She spoke of his decided
views of God's ordinances, and said, while
tears coursed down her cheeks, "My only
regret now is that before his death I had not
made an open profession of my faith. It
would have been a joy to him, having confidence in my conversion, to know that I was
not ashamed to confess the Saviour publicly."
"And why did you not do so, my love?"
asked Mrs. Percy. "I do hope your tenderness
for your uncle's prejudices or mine did not
deter you from  a known duty. Although
your poor auntie is not a Christian herself,
Maggie darling, she wants those who are
blessed by being so to be consistent and faithful."
"It was just that very tenderness toward
you all which hindered me from joining God's
people when I found a hope in his mercy. I
felt so utterly alone in my sentiments that I
16




182       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
waited till my dear father should return to
perform this duty. I carried an orphan's
heart in my bosom  even then, and had not
the spirit for any controversy about it. I
must in this matter follow my conscience, and
here it will lead me among very lowly folks;
but," said Maggie, sitting down upon the
grass and laying her hand on the fresh earth,
"I must say here, once for all, that my choice
is to suffer affliction and reproach-any thing
-with those of God's people whom I believe
to be the nearest akin to him in spirit and
doctrine. I must join this new Baptist church."
"So you may, my love," said Mr. Percy;
"and I am pained to think you should have
worried yourself with any fears of argument
or opposition. Ybu can't please everybody,
do your best. If you try to please me, you
would be confirmed by Dr. Winslow; and if
to gratify your grandmother, you would unite
with Mr. Spencer's church. The best way is
to follow the New Testament as you understand
it; you have more good sense now than half




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       183
the grown women I know. I have not your
father's spiritual religion, I well know, my
love, but I have common humanity enough
to keep me from tyrannizing over anybody's
conscience. When we go back I'll call on
the pastor of the little new church with you,
my dear."
"Oh, Uncle Percy, you are so dear and
kind-so like a real father," said the orphan.
"I hope I may in some way repay you all
for your love to me."
"You do repay us every day, my darling,"
replied her uncle; "but night is coming on,
dear, and mother will take cold. Let us
leave the dear grove and go down to good,
faithful Mrs. Bell's. We can ride up in the
morning before the cars go, for a last look.
Mother Bell will water the willow till its roots
strike."
"Oh," said Maggie, weeping, "how many
there are here who would gladly do it! The
memory of the just is blessed here."
During all this conversation poor Madam




184        MOORNING-GLEAM: OR,
Bond, seated on a garden chair which some
mourner had placed in the little enclosure,
listened silently, the tears coursing down her
faded cheeks.  She, unused  to  tears, was
blessed that she could shed them  now that
the great sorrow of her life had fallen upon
her.  True, she had buried her husband, a
good and noble man, yet she was then young,
strong and self-reliant; but now, when gray
hairs were upon her and her strength failing,
the strong staff and the beautiful rod on which,
notwithstanding her apparent coldness, her
spirit had leaned with the strong, pure trust
which only a mother can feel in a good and
noble son, was broken. There is for every
mortal a time to weep, and with her that time
had come; else had that strong heart broken
with  the throes of pent-up  agony.  She
scarcely realized the theme  on which the
younger mourners talked; showing how deep
must have been the grief which destroyed her
power of controversy  and  overcame  her
bigotry.  Mr. Percy  offered  her his arm




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.    185
tenderly, and she descended the hill, followed
by her daughter and poor Maggie, both of
whom turned round again and again to catch
one more glimpse of those dear graves.
"How desolate to be in this great, wide
world without a father to watch over me,"
said poor Maggie, almost choked with grief.
"I know it is so, my love; but you have us
left, and we will do more for you than it was
in their power to do," said her aunt.
"Oh, no; you won't pray for me, you won't
watch over me lest I wound Christ; you won't
warn me against the temptations of an ungodly world!"
Mrs. Percy was silent a moment, and then
she said, in a subdued tone, "Grandma will,
my love."
"But in such a different way from  that
which they used to take; but I shall try to
yield to her views as far as I can, for I prom.
ised my father in his last hour never to
leave her, but to make her as happy as I pos.
sibly could. But really, dear auntie, I feel so




186        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
truly orphaned to-day, that it seems as if a
very little harshness would crush me."
"Darling," cried the noble woman, "your
Uncle Percy has a perfect way of managing
grandma! He will see that she is satisfied
without suffering you to be even woundedcrushed you shall never be."
"My uncle is the most wonderful man I
ever met," said Maggie. "Were it not for his
extreme devotion to business and his love of
pleasure, I should think he must be a Christian; but I know he is not."
"No, my dear child, neither of us has the
hope you enjoy; and I can say, as you do,
Maggie, that my chief pang, standing over
those dear buried hearts, is that I have them
no longer to pray for me. I used to feel such
confidence that God heard them, and would,
for their sake, save me in the hour of death
But they will pray for us no more."
"Oh, auntie, did you never want to feel
that you were one of the saved till the hour
of death?" asked the little girl.




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        187
I want, at any rate, to die a Christian,"
said the lady. "That is, you know, the most
important thing."
"No, no, I cannot feel it so," answered
Maggie. "It seems to me the most important
to have God honored and Christ glorified. In
doing that we shall be blest with joy here and
life beyond. I wish to remember what my
dear, precious father said to me a few days
before he went to heaven:'My daughter, take
care that you do not perform  duty and seek
after holiness with an eye single to your own
happiness. Many young converts talk as if
they had chosen Christ as their portion only
as, were they less transitory, they would have
chosen earthly pleasures. They read, pray,
think, and labor, that a consciousness of having
done all may bring a spirit of content and with
it real pleasure. IIere is danger of a selfrighteous spirit gaining the ascendency, and
we, instead of laboring for the coming of God's
kingdom, toil only for the salvation of ourselves and those dear to us, which is but




188        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
another form of selfishness.' I do want to
serve God with grandma, and you, and uncle,
that HE may be glorified."
"What a dear, good child you are!" responded Mrs. Percy.
"No, I am  not, auntie, and it makes me
wretched when you and uncle say so; for,
when my heart seems so unlike the heart of
Jesus, I feel as if I were living a hypocrite's
life before you. Please never tell me that
again."
Mrs. Percy bent over Maggie and said, in a
subdued tone, as if she half expected a rebuke,
"How can it be that you are such a sinner?
I cannot believe it, and I find myself, since
your father's prayers for me have ceased,
throwing myself on yours."
"On mine! Oh, auntie, you  make me
tremble. I who have so little faith-who
cannot help myself-how shall I bear such a
burden on my soul?  Don't leave it there,
but pray for yourself," said/the child.
"I do raise a sort of prayer, but I never




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        189
feel that I am heard," said the lady.  "Oh,
that dreadful night, when death was doing his
work in the next chamber! I really felt his
sting in my own soul, and I was in anguish
because such a monster was in my dwelling,
and he who would have shielded us by his
prayers would pray for us no more. I tried
to pray; but in a moment I thought of you
and grew calm. I thought then'of such is
the kingdom of heaven,' and for her sake we
shall be kept."
"Oh, my dear auntie," cried the child, "if
I am to stand between you and the displeasure
of God I shall be crushed. I hope, if reliance
on a poor, weak child is to keep you from
Christ, that very soon I may fill that little
spot between those we love."
"Dry up your tears, my darling; see, uncle
is looking at us, and he will blame me for
allowing your thoughts to dwell on such sad
themes. He greatly fears the trouble through
which you have passed will dim your bright
spirit, and you know we rely on you to make




]IO      AMORNING-GLEAM: OR,
our home a cheerful one. Cheer up, dear,
before we go in, for poor Auntie Bell seems
heart-broken.  She is now a widow and childless, so you must strive to comfort her. She
loved your parents with a mother's love, and
it will never be known on earth how much
she sacrificed for them and for you, that your
father might see this church stand where it
does to-day. She is waiting us at the door."
"Dear, dear Auntie Bell!" cried Maggie,
throwing her arms around  her neck and
bursting into tears.  "Here  is your poor
orphan come to sleep once more in the little'white room' —once more to say to you at
bedtime,'Now I lay me down to sleep.' 
No words were uttered now, all sitting in
silence communing with their own heartssome of them with heaven.




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.    191
CHAPTER X.
IN the young city where Maggie's lot was,   cast, the Baptists had taken a good posi-z tion. At the extreme end from  Mr.
Percy's residence was a strong church
composed of people from abroad, many
of whom had been pillars and ornaments to
the temple from which they had come. This
had recently sent off a "branch" to plant
itself near them, hoping thus to gather in
some of the plainer class who, in that
aristocratic neighborhood, might be overlooked of others. To this chapel the child
of many prayers found her way soon after
her removal hither: and here she became
deeply interested. Now it would have been
far more in accordance with her uncle's views
had she requested the horse to be harnessed,
and the man kept from church to drive her
down-town to the First Church; but he knew




192        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
her spirit too well-he reverenced her principles too much to say so.
"Then  am  I to understand, Margaret,"
asked her grandmother one day, "that you
are really going to forsake us all?"
"Nothing of the kind, dear grandmother,"
said the young girl.
"But you decide to join this feeble little
Baptist church, don't you?"
"I do."
"You will find plenty of work there, let
me warn you! In such struggling interests
the labor falls on a few; the willing always
being overburdened," replied the old lady.
"Oh, dear grandmother, I am  so young
and know so little and have nothing to give:
nobody will think of looking to me as a
burden-bearer."
"They are very good at planning," said
madam.  "Your uncle's porter is one of
them-leads their choir, I believe. Of course
he has told them that you are the daughter
of a Baptist minister, and that, although you




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       193
are poor, your uncle is not! They will save
their own pockets by inveigling you into
their church."
Maggie colored deeply, and laid down the
knife and fork with which she had been
eating her dessert. Mr. Percy saw the barbed
arrow had pierced her sensitive heart, and in
his own peculiar way strove to draw it out.
He took his long, red purse from his pocket
deliberately, and laid it down by his plate.
lHe then commenced peeling an orange; but,
looking up suddenly, asked Madam Bond:
"Who did you say was inveigling my
little niece into mischief, mother?"
"I said these Baptists knew what they
were doing when they made such efforts to
inveigle her into their church," she repeated.' Why, uncle dear," exclaimed Maggie, "not
one effort has been made to induce me to go
there. I almost felt wounded that no notice
was taken of me for so long a time. I felt
that a poor orphan in the weeds of woe ought
to excite sympathy anywhere. I never spoke
17




194        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
to the minister till the day you took me
there."
"Mr. Percy took you there!" cried the old
lady, bracing herself against the back of her
chair. " What does she mean?"
"Oh, we-Maggie and I-called on this
gentleman to have a little conversation with
him; and we were so well pleased that we
have about decided to become hearers of his.
As to Maggie's poverty, it is pretty well
balanced by my riches. So, if my porter told
them I would give them something for her
sake, I'll make him a true prophet. I hear
their minister is not supported as he should
be; so, next time you go to meeting there,
give him that, my love, from your uncle," and
he handed Maggie an eagle.
"You are not going to turn Baptist, are
you, Mr. Percy?" asked Madam Bond.
"I think it more than probable; but I
must turn  Christian first or they will not
have me. I never knew any of that denomination till I saw your son; but from my boy



t~    ~ ~             ~~~'"''' t/ ~Il'   I               i 
SMorning Gleam.
PAGE 194.








THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.      195
hood up I have always wondered how those
who professed to be governed by the New
Testament could be any thing else. If I'm
ever worthy to join any church, it will be a
Baptist church. But aside from this, I do
love to see people stand straight up for their
own sentiments. If I were a Mormon, I'd
own it, and not slip off into some more popular church. I honor everybody that is firm
and consistent in his own faith."
"Ugh!" exclaimed grandma, "this people
strain at a gnat and swallow a camel, do they
not?  You are so decided, Margaret, about
being immersed because Jesus was-why don't
you turn your back on all churches, because
they do not worship in an upper-chamber, as
he and his disciples did?"
" So I would, grandma, if he had commanded
us to meet in an upper-chamber; but he has
not done so," replied Maggie.
"Do you think God ever requires impossibilities of his creatures, my child?"
"No, ma'am, never."




196       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
"Well, then, suppose he had said,'Believe
and be baptized in Jordan:' what would you
have done then?"
"I would have gone to Jordan," answered
the young girl, artlessly.
"But that would  be impossible," said
Madam Bond.
"Not at all, grandma; people do go for
mere pleasure; and I'm sure they could from
a higher motive. But Jesus has not required
this. He has removed every obstacle, and if
we do not obey him, the blame must lie on
ourselves."
" Well, my child,'As the twig is bent the
tree's inclined;' your parents certainly instructed and drilled you thoroughly in their
peculiar views."
"Dear grandmother, they rarely ever alluded to this subject at home. It was settled
in their minds. The first time I ever heard
any talk about it was just before you came
last to Morning-Gleam, and while you were
there."




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        197
" Well, my love, I am not going to argue
with you-old heads must bow before young
ones in our day! You, ere you have reached
your fifteenth year, have outstripped in research and in wisdom not only your poor
superannuated grandmother, but also hosts
of the wise and good of the present and of
bygone ages!  You know  more than the
ancients!"
Maggie could endure any thing but sarcasm; that was a spirit never breathed where
she had lived, and armed with a strange sting
it struck her to the very heart. With a quivering lip, expressive of deep pain rather than of
anger, she left her dessert almost untouched,
and, without leave, for she could not speak
to ask it, fled to her own chamber. This had
often proved a blessed sanctuary to her, for
there she had met and communed with God
and felt herself not fatherless.
A long conversation ensued at the table, in
which Mr. Percy justified in unqualified terms
the position in which Maggie stood. " Mother "




198       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
he said, "it seems strange for me, who profess
no real interest in these things, to contend
with you for liberty of conscience!  Could
you respect Maggie as you now do were she,
for the sake of pleasing us, to act a false
part?"
"Respect her?  I can respect any child
who has modesty'enough to yield her judgment to that of her superiors in age and
wisdom. I can't endure the thought of her
breaking the family-chain by going down to
that little chapel! The Baptists are such
bigots they think nobody right but themselves,!"
"Do you think any church right but your
own?" asked Mr. Percy.
"No, sir!" exclaimed Madam Bond, "I do
not!"
"Then why should you require more of
other sects?  If they thought any other
organization nearer to the truth than their
own, they would no longer be Baptists. My
tastes are not satisfied with their own rigid




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       199
simplicity; but I do believe they are very
near to the church which our great Leader
founded, whose main pillars were fishermen
of Galilee."
"You amaze me, Mr. Percy."
"I'm sorry, mother; but I really have a
great reverence for any people who dare to
stand up boldly for their own  sentiments
when all is against them. These Baptists,
toward whom you have so much feeling, are
the only denomination which never persecuted others for conscience sake."
" Well, there is no use in talking," exclaimed Madam Bond, weeping. "I see just
how it is: you and Caroline think me superannuated and losing my mental powers, so you
choose to accept the judgment of a child before
mine!  I suppose poor, dear Endicott held
the same views, and expressed them before
Margaret."
"Oh, dear mother," said Mrs. Percy, in a
soothing tone, "that is a great mistake. You
have not changed a whit, but are as vigorous




200        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
to-day as when I was a girl at home. I'm
quite sure your ideas of the Baptists have not
undergone any change since then.  I think
you felt the same when  Endicott joined
them."
Still the old lady wept, and poor Mrs.
Percy, desiring the happiness of all, scarcely
knew what course to pursue. The sight of
tears from her mother's eyes was new to her;
this being only the second time in her whole
life she had ever seen her weeping.  She
spoke soothingly to her, as Mr. Percy withdrew to the little library, from which opened
Maggie's room, to read his paper.  After
some time Mrs. Percy entered that room by
another door and found her niece also in tears.
"Oh, Maggie, dear, do not cry; it makes
me so miserable!"  And seating herself on
the side of the bed where Maggie lay, she
drew the curly head upon her bosom  and
pressed almost a mother's kiss on the red
lips of the child. "Now, dear, listen to me,
who love you.  You know how very rigid




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        201
poor grandmother is in her views, and how
unhappy she is when she is thwarted in her
plans. She loves you dearly: you and I are
all she has to love; she has nothing left to
look forward to as we have-nothing but the
grave. Now, my love, suppose you magnanimously resolve to give up your will to hers
as long as she lives; that will be but a little
while."
"What do you mean, auntie dear?" asked
Maggie, in surprise.
" Why, my love, that you join grandma's
church, and go with her," said Mrs. Percy.
"But, auntie dear, they would not take me
unless I deceived them. Besides, I was not
sprinkled when I was a baby."
" The minister would do it now, my love."
"Never!" said Maggie.  "It would be
mocking God."
"Oh, no, my dear," exclaimed Mrs. Percy.
"You know it could not hurt you to have a
little water put on your face."
"But I should do it in the name of an




202       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
ordinance of God, which it is not; and thus
should wrong my own conscience, deceive
others, and insult God."
"Grandma will not live long, and after she
is gone you can join where you please," said
the lady.
"I am unworthy enough of a place among
God's people now, and I'm sure I should be
more so then," said Maggie.
"I know grandma better than you do, love,
and I know that with all her goodness she
never yields a point to any one. She considers herself next to your own mother. If
you go without her consent, you will have
great trials, and it breaks my heart to think
of any coldness or unkindness between you."
"Auntie,'IHe that loveth father or mother
more than me is not worthy of me.' I have
resolved to obey Christ in all things as far as
I possibly cam; and if that brings sorrow and
unkindness with it, I must just receive that as
a part of my discipline at his hand. If you
or Uncle Percy or grandma say in so many




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        203
words that I shall not be baptized, I shall wait,
for I am under your control; but nothing
short of this will keep me back."
"I should not dare to say so, love; and
your uncle really thinks you ought to follow
your own judgment in the matter: I am afraid
to lay the whole responsibility on grandma,
lest she readily take it up and forbid you.
She is not afraid of such burdens."
"I hope you will not leave the decision
with her, my dear aunt. I feel that it would
almost be cruel toward me. I could bear
open persecution or unkindness far better
than these fetters of love, which draw me
back from  duty. Just before you came in,
I was thinking of the martyrs who went to
the stake for Jesus, and I despised myself
when I saw how mere frowns and cool words
alarmed me. Auntie, I don't believe one is a
real disciple of Jesus unless he is willing to
endure some trial for his sake; and this
afternoon I feel that in his strength I could




204       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
go to the flames to testify of his love and
faithfulness."
"My dear child!" exclaimed Mrs. Percy,
looking at Maggie in amazement, "oh, how I
wish I had your religion!"
A rustling of paper was heard in the next
room, and Mr. Percy stood in the door. "Do
you wish for Maggie's faith, my wife?" he
asked, looking sadly on her.
"Indeed I do."
"Then, I beseech you, do not tempt her to
sin by urging her to stifle conscience to please
any mortal.  I tell you, Caroline, that the
child's resolute determination to serve God as
she believes he requires has had more effect
on me than all the sermons, prayers, and
forms I ever heard or saw in my life! I have
seen the power of a living principle, and am
led to desire the same to light and warm my
own heart. I have tried to rely on splendid
forms and ceremonies, tried to be a skeptic,
and disbelieve all that is holy; but her example has saved me. I believe Heaven in




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        205
mercy sent her here to rebuke our worldliness, and to lead us to God. I am the head
of this family and the guardian of Maggie.
I am, to all intents and purposes, her father,
and it is my will that no one interfere with
her in this matter. I will take the responsibility, and if mother speaks to you again
about it, my dear, refer her to me."
"What will she say?" asked Mrs. Percy.
"She will probably say we are all bigots;
but we will allow her what we ask for others
-the rights of conscience. I sincerely hope,
my dear, that you will not allow yourself to
be led into wrong against Maggie for the sake
of peace. Make no allusion whatever to this
subject, and as it is so distasteful to grandma
she will not expect to be consulted. I will
take care of Maggie, and you may go to
church with mother next Sabbath.  When it
is over, I, myself, will break it to her."
Poor Mrs. Percy was by nature a peacemaker, and had become pretty perfect through
practice; always having had to stand between
18




206        IORNING-GLEAM: OR,
some other party and her mother. She was
so desirous of making all things agreeable
that she was in danger of suffering wrong to
be done. She now said, "Mother remarked,
after you left the table, that if our dear little
girl still persisted in her course, it would be
quite an alleviation if she would go downtown to the First Church. She would then
have something like society."
"That is a very mean sort of pride," replied
the gentleman, "and I hope Maggie will do
no such thing! It would be getting up a
carriage and riding to church for the sake of
popularity, when she can do far more good at
her own door. Suppose, Caroline, that she
do so and that every Baptist in respectable
circumstances do the same, how long will it
take to build up a good strong church in this
growing neighborhood?"
"Well, well, you are right, my dear, and I
will leave all in your hands; but I confess I
am almost afraid to face mother at tea, for she
thinks I have come to plead with Maggie."




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        207
"Maggie, my dear, it is settled now," said
her uncle; "if any one wants to talk of this
matter send them  to me. Since we have
conversed so much about it, I spoke to a
certain friend on the subject. He said he had
never had a thought about it, but considered
it settled by his church-the Episcopal; but
that he should like to know your arguments
for immersion. I promised to ask you for
them."
"My arguments!" said Maggie, "I haven't
one! I never thought of arguments. Jesus
sets the example, and I mean to follow: he
commands, and I obey. Were this a misty
subject, I might have looked for arguments;
but in the New Testament it is as plain as the
noonday sun, that believers, and they alone, are
to be buried with Christ in Baptism. I believe,
dear uncle, with my poor little French friend
Pierre, that'if no man ever hear of sprinkle
and go to Testament alone, then no man ever
sprinkle-not big one, not baby.' I believe
any one willing and anxious to find out the




208       MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
truth may do so, for the Bible is not a book
for the learned more than for the ignorant.
A wayfaring man, though a fool, need not err
in this. Dear father once told me that he
thought words often darkened counsel where
God speaks as plainly as he does on this duty.
Send your friend to the word and to the testimony: that is all the guide any of us have. I
shall never repay your noble generosity, my
dear uncle, in this sore trial. You were my
terror when I came. I thought your pride
would be wounded by my intended coursethat you would look on it as a whim, and
consider  me  obstinate not to  yield to
grandma's wishes. But God has been better
than my fears, and it makes me feel so strong
to have you for my champion that I almost
fear I shall not realize enough my dependence
on Him who has raised up such a dear, noble
friend for the orphan of his servant."
"Now let us go down and take grandma
out to walk in the garden," said Mrs. Percy
to her niece. "Dear old lady, we will do all




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.    209
we can to make her happy while we have her
with us. I hope we shall not kill her by
carrying out our principles."
"There's spirit enough left in mother to
keep her alive if we all should become
Mohammnedans. I wonder if she could have
felt worse if Maggie had turned her back on
her father's God and become a gay belle,
trifling away her precious life " said Mr.
Percy.
Oh, what stone of stumbling causes more to
fall than the bitter persecution of one Christian by another? And for a man of the
world to stand and look on while one child
of God has another in the dust with his heel
on his neck, and perchance to step in between
them to prevent the stronger from crushing
the weaker-is it not almost enough to shake
his faith in all we profess?  Better be the
oppressed than the oppressor.




210        MORNING-GLEAM: OR
CHAPTER XI.
lItHE glorious Sabbath morning dawned
11j   with a joy more than earthly upon
C  our little Maggie. The Holy, blessed
women who, long ago, were "last
at the cross, first at the sepulchre,"
brought spices, on a morn like this, as a
sweet offering to anoint the body of their
dead Redeemer: on this day, she of whom we
write came, in the dew of her youth, and laid
herself on the altar, a living sacrifice, holy
and acceptable.  With  every  facility for
earthly pleasure she turned her face toward
those joys which are forevermore at God's
right hand. She took his vows upon her, and
became his by outward profession. Then, as
in almost every case, the terrible clouds of
persecution which she had seen before her all
vanished; no peal of thunder broke, no flash
of lightning sped over her; the sun shone




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.       211
forth in new beauty, and she went on her way
rejoicing.
Poor grandma, when  she  heard  that
Maggie had really gone forward and professed her faith, by what alone she called
baptism, only said, "I expected it would come
to this, and am very glad you did not tell me
until it was over! She is a sweet child, and
possesses real religious principle.  She is
very obstinate; but I don't know  as she
ought to be censured for that, as it is in every
drop of the Hale blood! They are such
rigid Baptists! My dear Endicott, too, had
that trait among his many virtues-where
ever he got it: I know it was not from my
family, the Brewsters!"  When Maggie bid
her friends "good-night" that Sabbath evening, grandma put both arms around her and
said, "My dear child, I hope God will keep
you from  ever dishonoring his cause, and
that he will bless you abundantly, now and
forever."
These words were a sort of peace-offering,




212        MORNING-GLEAMI: OR,
which atoned for all the coldness of the past
-a benediction at the close of a life's service
-a sweet incense never to cease rising while
Maggie lived-a treasure to be hoarded up
among her jewels; for these were the last
words poor Madam Bond intelligibly uttered
on earth!  During that night a stroke of
palsy almost deprived her of her reason; and
although she lived a long year after, it was
both to her and to her family like the first
year of a baby's life. She had so much of
mind left as to know her own family from
strangers; and would suffer none but Mrs.
Percy or Maggie to attend her. No matter
what kind friend volunteered her services, or
what skillful nurse was employed, she would
reach out her arms toward them with such a
touching moan as went to their very hearts.
They never both left her at once; one rested
while the  other watched  and  ministered.
Now came to their aid this strong, resolute,
unbending purpose; the same spirit which
made Maggie a Baptist sustained her and




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        213
kept her at her post of duty. Now was seen
the wisdom of Maggie's rigid training, and
the real value of a constitution strengthened
by morning air and exercise. Had dear Grandmother Bond been permitted to rise from that
bed, we believe it would have been with a heart
full of love to all-full of charity toward
even the Baptists! This was not to be; and
at the close of this suffering year, as the fruit
was being gathered, and as the reapers were
binding their sheaves, she, too, was taken as a
sheaf of corn fully ripe to the garner above.
Scarcely had the grave closed over the
aged Christian ere a letter came from Auntie
Bell, saying that Nancy Darby was lying at
the house of her nephew in her last sickness;
and that her only earthly desire was to see
the child of her love. The journey was a
long one, and Mr. and Mrs. Percy feared that
Maggie's desire for usefulness might induce
her to assume labors there again before she
had recovered from those of the past. After
much discussion it was agreed  that they




214        MORNTNG-GLEAM: OR,
all should  take  the journey and return
together. Aside from fulfilling a duty toward a faithful friend and servant, the place
where Nancy lived had a strong claim  on
Maggie Bond: it was her birthplace, and it
contained the graves of those she loved.
Nancy's pathway to the tomb was lighted
by the presence and kindness of her friends.
Hers was an illness which left the mind active
and vigorous, while rapidly taking down,
pin after pin, the poor tabernacle of clay.
Once she said, "Oh, sometimes when I fall
asleep, I dream I'm safe over, and that I have
met your father and mother, and my mother,
and lots more of the glorified on the shining
shore; but when I wake up and find that I'm
still the same poor Nancy Darby, and haven't
got my glorified body, my poor heart aches.
I'm homesick!"
" Well, my dear, good Nancy," said Maggie,
"let me tell you what sweet words I read the
other day in a German book.'Blessed are
the homesick, for they shall reach home.'"




THE PASTORS DAUGHTER.          215
"La, dear child!" cried Nancy in her old
tones, "that is a new'blessed,' for sure. I
was a-trying to take some of the ol ones to
myself when my nephew's wife read them to
me, but I couldn't.  I wasn't'pure in heart,'
I wasn't'meek,' I wasn't'poor in sperrit,' I
wasn't'a peace-maker,' I wasn't'persecuted.'
But you have found a new'blessed,' that I,
poor, sinful Nancy Darby, can lay hold on.' Blessed are the homesick:' I'm one of them,
I know; so I shall reach home. But the
nearer I get to God, the farther I seem from
him-I mean the nearer I get to heaven, the
more plain I see my sins; for I see him in all
his holiness, and can say with Job,'I have
heard of thee by the hearing of the ear; but now
mine eye seeth thee: therefore I abhor myself
and repent in dust and ashes.' N1one of you
that bore such heaps with me knowed what sins
was hid and stowed away in my heart. Oh, if
poor Madam  Bond was here to-day, I'd have
confessions to make to her!  She wasn't an
angel mor'n I was; but that's nothing to do




216        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
with my sins. If a sinner saved by grace can
hate a fellow cretur', then there's been times
that I hated that old lady! She was harsh to
my folks, and she despised the Baptises; but
it was my duty to bear and forbear, to return
good for evil, love for hatred;'stead o' that, I
always paid her back in her own coin. Now,
beside the sin against God, I'm afraid-between us-she and I led them  two sweet
peace-makers, your father and  mother, a
terrible life on't.  I'd  like  to  confess to
madam, but it's too late; so when I get to
heaven she'll be the first earthly one I'll give
my hand to.  We'll both be tamed then."
"Nancy, you're talking too much," said
Maggie.
" Well, I don't feel it, my child.  It almost
seems as if I was going to get about again; I
feel so sort of lifted-up!"
" Nancy, my good girl"-she still called
herself a girl-" if you do recover, you may
come and spend  your days with us, and
take care of Maggie, or let her take care of




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.          217
you, just as you may agree about that, between you. I will give you a nice little room
all to yourself, and take care of you in your
old age," said Mrs. Percy.
"I feel as if I could walk there," said
Nancy, " but I shall never see old age, nor I
don't want to, neither!  All my folks is in
heaven, and I'd rather go there than even to
live and be with our child. I'm a furrener
and a stranger here, and long to go home. Oh,
when I look back on the beautiful easy life I
have had here, I feel amazed that God hadn't
left me to settle down with earth for my
portion; but he hasn't, blessed be his name?"
This was one of the many conversations
which passed between the faithful Nancy and
her friend. Thus a week was spent under the
shadow of Morning-Gleam.  It was called
now'the parsonage' only, for Mr. Bond's
successor was a practical man in the widest
sense of the word, enough so to satisfy even
farmer Grub. He had cut down the trees in
the fine grove, and the limbs which erst spread
19




218        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
their shadow and their beauty over the landscape lay dissevered and in a thousand pieces
in the huge new wood-house, seasoning for
the fuel of many a coming winter. The useless
flower-garden was laid down to grass, and the
strawberry beds to carrots. Oh, how Maggie's
heart ached when she stood at the gate and
looked around  She could not go in, as invited
to do by the pastor's worthy wife. She rejoiced to know they were good and kind to
their flock; but as she gazed on their out-door
arrangements and saw their boys, she remembered Nancy's comments on them: "They're
Christians, and the church is getting blest
through'em; but they are not our kind of
folks. I heard him say more about the pigs
he's raising for next winter's pork than ever
I heard Mr. Bond say about eatables in all
my life! But I'll forgive him, for he set out
a little willow in our cemetery when he heard
the old lady was sick and Maggie couldn't
come."
At the end of the week the little party left




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.         219
for a trip to the mountains; thence they
went to the glory of our country-Niagaraand home again; expecting to hear from
Auntie Bell if Nancy recovered so far as to
follow them. Maggie felt it would be a sweet
privilege to smooth her way to the silent
land; but it was never to be. Soon after
their departure she ended her lowly life in a
peaceful death, requesting, with  her last
breath, to be laid, as Mr. Percy said she
might be, in his enclosure.  "Dig my grave
in the farthest corner," she said. "I'm not
worthy to lie so near their blessed dust; but
oh, it will be sweet to awake in the morning
and find us all again together." And there
she sleeps.
Once more in their home, the thoughts of
Mr. and Mrs. Percy turned to Maggie's interests, and various plans were proposed by
which to carry on her education.  It was
their desire to make her a thoroughly accomplished woman, such as should adorn their




220        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
home and satisfy their pride; for they felt
now how much of their happiness depended
on her life and her future tastes. As to the
method to  be pursued-whether away at
school or with teachers at home-she was
consulted; for her happiness lay very near
their hearts.
"Now, my love," said her uncle, one day,
"you are released from the sick-room and
from all care. It is time you resume the
studies you  dropped  at Morning-Gleam.
Where will you do it, and what branches
will you pursue?"
"Uncle," replied the young girl, "my dear
father spared no pains in laying the foundation of a sound education. I knew  well,
when a little child, the hopes he cherished for
me; and it was these which led him through
what grandma called the'toughening process'
with me. He wished me to be a working-woman, either at home or abroad. This remark
I well remember hearing him  make:'Look
for work, not for rest; it is only the weary




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.        221
who can enjoy rest.' I feel your kindness,
and could live very happily here all my days;
but I know it would not meet my father's
wishes. He said he hoped I might do much
for Christ which his short life prevented him
from  doing.  And I want you and dear
auntie to feel, in all you do for me, that you
will not, in all probability, be personally
benefited by it-that, after all your pains and
expense, I may be called to toil on a foreign
shore."
"Oh, but, my love, there are plenty of
poor girls who would be glad to go abroad
under the sanction of some Society," said Mrs.
Percy. "We can never let you go. Uncle
will give money, and those who cannot do
that may give their children."
"And those," said Maggie, smiling, "who,
like me, have neither money nor children,
must give themselves. God may never appoint
me to such an honorable place; but I wish to
speak very plainly about my future course
before my uncle spends his money on my




222        MORNING-GLEAM: OR,
education. If God calls Ishall obey. I do
not wish to
--' be carried to the skies
On flowery beds of ease,
While others fought to win the prize,
And sailed through bloody seas.'"
Her friends looked at each other and then
at Maggie.  Hers was a spirit they could not
fathom.
"My child," said Mr. Percy, "I have been
trying to loosen myself from this earth that I
might grow a better man; but I fear now
that I have been leaning on your goodness to
help me carry out my plans.  Perhaps the
Almighty means to strip me of every earthly
dependence and leave me alone face to face
with himself. How can I endure it?"
"It is thus we must all stand, dear uncle,
and if we look at God through the face of
Jesus, our brother, we have no cause for
terror," said Maggie.
"My love, pursue  the course of study
which you yourself think wisest for your




THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER.          223
future hopes; I shall be satisfied," said the
noble man.
Maggie Bond is toiling in the harvest-field
even now, while yet a school-girl.  Her first
efforts are for the loved ones at home, and for
the humble members of her uncle's dwelling.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Percy attend the little new
church  with  Maggie, and  manifest great
interest in its welfare. They also seem seeking the path that leads to "life;" and yet may
be verified in their case the prophecy,
"A little child shall lead them."
Long ere this generation of reapers fall with
the sickle in their hand upon the shores of
India, we may hear of Margaret Bond among
their number.  Her strong arm may yet sustain the weary head, her fine spirit uphold
the sinking heart of some sister who has
given her life to the heathen.
The Christian who, dying young, leaves to
the church a well-trained and truly devoted
child, does more for Christ than he who leaves
his thousands for the cause.  One who, for




224           MORNING-GLEAM.
the sake of principle, obeying her Saviour's
command literally, could break through the
cords of love and  bigotry as did Maggie
Bond, will not be very likely to quail before
hardship at home, at sea, or on the dark
shores of heathenism.  God  give to  the
church more such fathers and mothers as
were hers; God grant unto many parents such
children as she: then shall the day break
which is foretold of the prophet, when the
wilderness shall blossom  as the rose, and
when nothing shall hurt or destroy in all the
holy mountain.
^Y~i