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'old hon'ere Miss Hanna. 
 
ANNA MAYLIE: 
 
 BT ELLA FAEMAU. 
 
 /^a-i-fr 
 
 " Behold, the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the 
 earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and 
 latter rain." James 5 : 7. 
 
 " And let us not he weary in weU doing: for in due season we 
 ehall reap if we faint not." Gai* 6 , a> 
 
 Boston : 
 Published bv S). Xothrop & 60. 
 
Entered, according to Act af Congress, in the year 1873, 
 
 By D. LOTHROP & CO., 
 
 In the Office of the Librariaa of Congress, at Washington 
 
00 
 
 o 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGi:. 
 Miss Clbmmer's Class ....••• 7 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Anna Maylie's Home • . 20 
 
 CHAPTER ni. 
 Anna's Day at Miss Clemmer's 84 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The Prayeb Meeting 61 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Searching FOB A Cross 72 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 Rachel * • • 8i 
 
 CHAPTER Yll. 
 The Story of Joseph 97 
 
 CHAPTER Ytn. 
 The New Twilight 106 
 
 CHAPTER rx. 
 Peace 130 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Out -OF -Doors 132 
 
iv. Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PAGE. 
 PjlEMONITIONS 154 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 Bex .... 166 
 
 CHAPTER Xni. 
 
 A Sabbath Evening 188 
 
 CHAPTER XTV. 
 
 Among THE Weeds 217 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Another Sabbath Evening ..... 236 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Changes . , 257 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 The Harvest 270 
 
 CHAPTER XVJn. 
 " He GivETH His Beloved Sleep" . • , .292 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 A Message FROM THE Dead ...... 304 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 In THE Memorial Church 320 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 "Let HER OWN Works Praise Her" . • • .810 
 
^**^o^^J 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In presenting to my readers the story of Anna Maylie, 
 of her life both as girl and woman , at the East and in 
 the West, I have endeavored to show, first of all, that 
 whoever loves Jesus with a full and vital love will be 
 busy in His service. I have labored to show that the 
 blessing of Him whose thoughts are higher than our 
 thoughts rest upon eveiy word, every wish, every 
 prayer, every deed, which is bom of an intense desire 
 to further His work. I have labored to show that God 
 uses these words, and wishes, and prayers, and deeds, 
 — even the simplest and most minute of them, — as in- 
 struments by which to work out His larger, wider and 
 more glorious scheme for the spread of His gospel, and 
 the elevation, usefulness and happiness of his crea- 
 tures. 
 
 I have endeavored to show those who stand in the 
 high places of the world that God may choose His hum- 
 blest child for the choicest mission ; and at the same 
 time I have endeavored to dispossess the minds of the 
 
"vi* Preface, 
 
 poor of the idea that true religion, true devotion, and 
 an active Christian sympathy are not to be found among 
 the wealthy, and so teach them that the Son of God 
 makes us truly all " one in Christ." 
 
 And I shall not have written the story of my simple 
 cottage girl in vain if I succeed in teaching even one 
 the lesson of Faith, and that the hand of both God and 
 man will be reached oat to the worthy and persever- 
 ing. 
 
 If one, even one, earnest soul finds a light falling 
 from my pages to light the path of daily duty, feels that 
 I have encouraged it to be patient, to wait, and to go 
 steadily and hopefully on with the w(/rk while waiting, 
 I shall feel that I have not held my humble torch aloft 
 in vain 
 
ANNA MAYLIE 
 
 A STORY OF WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 EAR ME ! Why will Miss Clemmer 
 persist in keeping Anna Maylie in our 
 class ? Every year it is just the same 
 old story." 
 
 " I know it. But I should think Anna herself 
 would have pride enough, if nothing else, to go 
 into some other class. Mercy ! Do you suppose 
 if I had nothing but calico, or a shilling delaine, 
 I'd go among silks and grenadines V " 
 
 " That 's just it, Fan I Miss Clemmer is a lady, 
 
8 Anna Maylie, 
 
 of course , but some of her tastes are perfectly 
 unaccountable. Now, of course, she knows this 
 must be very disagreeable to us." 
 
 There was a pause, and then I heard Fan's 
 voice again. "Father is superintendent, and if 
 it was anybody but Miss Clemmer, I would have 
 it arranged so that we could change teachers ; 
 but it would not be Sabbath - school without 
 Miss Clemmer." 
 
 " That is not to be thought of. 1 suppose we 
 must put up with it. Only think, though, of our 
 washer - woman's daughter in our class, with her 
 drunken fither, and her print dress, and cotton 
 gloves, and such shoes ! " 
 
 I was then a stranger in Morristown, and un- 
 acquainted with the faces, names, and social posi- 
 tions at the church I attended ; so I managed as 
 I passed them to take a sharp look at the two 
 ladies whose conversation I had overlieard. Even 
 while I walked behind them, their air of high 
 breeding and fashion had been unmistakable ; and 
 
Miss Clemmer^s Glass. 9 
 
 as I passed them, I saw a pair of those delicate, 
 clear - cut faces so common in the best families of 
 our cities and large towns. All the supercilious- 
 ness of a fashionable week-day life was plairly 
 written upon those countenances, and by their 
 bearing I could see that even their Sabbath - 
 school was part and parcel o^ their fashionable 
 worldliness ; and I thought how faithful and de- 
 TOted the teacher of such girls ought to be. 
 
 An interest was awakened in my mind concern- 
 ing Miss Clemmer's class ; and so during the week, 
 as I had little in my own affairs to occupy me, 
 my thoughts often recurred to the teacher who 
 evidently had persisted in retaining a poor and 
 plainly - dressed girl in her class of fashionable 
 young ladies, in direct opposition to their wishes. 
 I felt very sure she was aware of their wishes, for 
 my own experience had taught me that girls of 
 fifteen and seventeen are never over - delicate in 
 making their dislikes apparent. 
 
 As I took my seat in the Strangers' Bible class 
 
10 Anna Maylie, 
 
 the following Sabbath, my thoughts recurred 
 again to Miss Clemmer and her class ; and I 
 thought it just possible that I should be able to 
 recognize my two aristocratic young ladies among 
 the bright throng. But delicate - hued silks and 
 dainty bareges were quite as plenty as muslins and 
 prints, and the high -bred type of face is com- 
 mon, as I said before. I might have asked Mr. 
 Barrett, who was in charge of our class, to point 
 out Miss Clemmer ; but I had a fancy to find her 
 for myself. 
 
 So I scanned the teachers within range, and 
 during singing I searched the seats beyond, but 
 found no one whom I was satisfied to call Miss 
 Clemmer. I concluded that I had magnified a 
 very trivial incident into something of impor- 
 tance ; so I turned to our lesson, and became in- 
 terested, when the superintendent came up and 
 requested Mr. Barrett to send some one to take 
 charge of a class whose teacher was absent. I 
 was asked to go, and the superintendent con- 
 
Miss cummer's Class, 11 
 
 ducted me to a distant part of the room. Busy 
 with my scholars, I yet had ears for a very sweet 
 voice behind me, and at last, managing to look 
 back, I saw, at the head of a class of young 
 ladies, a very sweet face also. I was interested 
 in my little charges, but I became still more in- 
 terested in the lesson - giving going on behind mcj 
 which I soon found to be a sort of dialogue be- 
 tween the sweet, cultivated voice and another 
 voice which was ready and self-reliant. It was 
 only occasionally that I could hear a well -bred, 
 characterless answer given by the other members 
 of the class to some direct appeal or question. 
 
 I became very much interested in the unhesita- 
 ting answers which that one scholar had for every 
 question ; they were so different from the few, 
 quiet, non-committal replies of her companions ; 
 and then, all at once, it flashed over me — Miss 
 Clemmer and her class ! All my old interest as- 
 sumed its former importance. I placed myself in 
 front of my scholars, and found an opportunity to 
 
12 Anna Maylie* 
 
 survey my neighbors ; and there, among the 
 well -'dressed occupants of the seat, I easily 
 recognized my two haughty acquaintances of the 
 sidewalk, and, as if to determine the matter, next 
 the sweet - voiced teacher there sat a girl who 
 strongly contrasted with the rest, — Anna May- 
 lie, I was sure. She was a nice - looking girl, 
 with a remarkably clear complexion, and bright, 
 dark hair and eyes, but her roses, plumpness, and 
 frank, open expression gave her a rustic appear- 
 ance, and spoke of some simple manner of life. 
 I looked at her again and again, for she had such 
 a good face, — almost lovable. But I was not so 
 ignorant of life and of human nature as to wonder 
 why her class - mates disliked her. I am a wom- 
 an, and, though perhaps I should not have 
 done so, I involuntarily inventoried her attire : 
 A cottage bonnet of coarse straw, simply 
 trimmed with an inexpensive blue ribbon, a dress 
 of print, — pretty and delicate, but at the best 
 nothing but print, — a plain, white sacque, and 
 
Miss Clemmer^s Class, 13 
 
 plain, linen collar, and a parasol of gingham. 
 This was in painful contrast with the blonde 
 frills, the Valenciennes collars, and the handsome 
 Neapolitan bonnets of the young ladies at her 
 side. It must have needed the very best quality 
 of courage to sit with a sunny face. Sabbath after 
 Sabbath, while her poor print skirts were crushed 
 and hidden beneath the costly and beautiful robes 
 which crowded her on every hand. 
 
 "Yes, this must be Anna May lie, and I won- 
 der too why she stays in such a class," I said to 
 myself, because girls of her own station were 
 plenty enough around me. I turned to Miss 
 Clemmer, with her sweet, snow - drop face. Her 
 bonnet was French, — white bonnets were in 
 Btyle then, if you think back thirteen years, — and 
 with its broad, white ties, and its white wreath of 
 lily bells, it was very becoming. Indeed, her 
 whole attire was that of a wealthy young lady of 
 exquisite taste, who shunned display ; still, her 
 one poor scholar could not have crept to her side 
 
14 Anna Maylie. 
 
 to avoid the contrast with the class. I know 
 that I care little for mere externals, but I remem- 
 ber that unconsciously I looked first at poor 
 Anna's brown, sun -burned wrist, which was re- 
 vealed by her short cotton glove, then at the 
 blue - veined patrician hand of her teacher, shaded 
 by a fall of costly lace, and then wondered again, 
 — though I trust I am a Christian, — why the 
 girl was there. 
 
 But as I quietly continued my observations, I 
 noticed what an undisturbed air there was about 
 Anna Maylie, and the appearance she had of 
 nestling down by Miss Clemmer's side ; and I 
 grew to feel that in some way her Sabbath - 
 school teacher was very dear to her. I noticed 
 also how, after every unsatisfactory answer from 
 the rest of the class. Miss Clemmer would always 
 turn back with, "I am sure you must have 
 thought about this, Anna," and how attentively 
 she listened to what Anna said, and how satis- 
 fied she looked at Anna's modest promptness, 
 
Miss Glemmer^s Glass, 15 
 
 until I felt sure she was her favorite scholar, and 
 that it was a personal affection which bound the 
 lady to the little rustic. 
 
 I was sitting among my little strangers when 
 Miss Clemmer closed her Bible, and I had an 
 undisturbed opportunity to hear what followed. 
 It was in a voice lower and more quiet than she 
 had used in teaching, that she began : 
 
 " My girls, I have something to consult with 
 you about. The superintendent, your father, 
 Fanny, has requested all his teachers to do some 
 especial work for the good of his scholars. I 
 have long felt the need of especial and unusual 
 work, — how long is it, Satie, that I have taught 
 you?" 
 
 "I think it is four years. Miss Clemmer," 
 Satie, one of the young ladies of the previous 
 Sunday's conversation, answered. 
 
 "Yes, it is four years. Fanny, do you think 
 my four years' work has done any good ? " 
 
 " O Miss Clemmer, I hope so." 
 
16 Anna May lie, 
 
 "My dear girls, I have tried to be faithful, 
 but are you, any one of you, nearer the kingdom 
 of Heaven?" 
 
 There was silence in the class, a long silence. 
 She went on ; 
 
 "I have worked every Sunday for four years, 
 yet not one of my girls can tell me that she is 
 any nearer the kingdom of Heaven ! Does one 
 of you love Jesus any better because I have 
 taught you of Him for four years? Do you, 
 Clara? Fanny? Satie? Eachel? Anna?" 
 
 I could hear the restrained sob in Miss Clem- 
 mer's voice as she leaned forward to her silent 
 class. I could almost hear, too, that painful, 
 restrained silence, — that silence which so many 
 a teacher has helplessly encountered when she 
 has endeavored to break down the barrier between 
 herself and her class. How mournful her voice 
 was when she spoke again ! 
 
 "I have been in my Master's field four years, 
 and I have not a sheaf to carry to Him ! Your 
 
Miss Clemmer^s Class, 17 
 
 father was right, Fanny, when he said he must 
 appoint especial work to us. He has given ua 
 the choice as to what each would do. But I — 
 I can not do the work which I have chosen, 
 alone. I have worked too much alone, I fear, 
 these four years." 
 
 She paused, and then resumed : 
 
 " Will you come to my prayer - meeting, girls ? 
 I have had an evening of prayer for my class for 
 many months, but I think I have erred in not 
 having my class with me. Now you would 
 hardly refuse me anything else, — you have 
 always regarded all my wishes, — and this wish 
 is more to me than anything else ever was. Fri- 
 day evening, I would like to see you all in my 
 room. Rachel, you will not let me hold my 
 prayer - meeting alone ? " she added in a gentle 
 tone to the tall, dark girl who sat next Anna 
 May lie. She said it as the rest of the class were 
 looking out the hymn which the superintendent 
 was reading, and she took RacIieFs hand within 
 
18 Anna May lie, 
 
 her own. The gh'l's face paled, but she turaed 
 awaj and made no answer. I could see, as I 
 quietly glanced that way while the school was 
 sino'ing^, that Miss Clemmer was endeavorinoj to 
 control her evident emotion, and also that none 
 of her class were singing. 
 
 At the close of school I heard her address Anna 
 Maylie : " I shall be around to see you in the 
 morning ; if you can, try and be at home ;" and 
 then she stepped aside to let the girls pass out. 
 Fanny Howland, the superintendent's daughter, 
 came last, and her Miss Clemmer detained, and 
 said, earnestly : " Fanny, I have asked none of 
 you to promise me, but if you could know how I 
 want you to come ; you lead them, and if you 
 would come" 
 
 The young lady was embarrassed ; but she 
 finally stammered ; " I am sorry, Miss Clemmer, 
 but I had an eno^agement." 
 
 " Yes, Fanny, I know, and I hesitated some 
 about saying Friday evening. I knew of couree 
 
Miss Clemmer's Class. 19 
 
 you had invitations to Miss Graham's ; I had 
 heard Gertie speak of it ; bat the Bible so- 
 ciety, and Dr. Mason's lecture, and the teachers' 
 meeting, and our Aid society, seem to take every 
 other evening. Yet I feel as if I must have you, 
 Fanny. Think of it half an hour each day, for 
 my sake, won't you ? " 
 
 Fanny could not help returning the clasp of 
 her teacher's hand, but her face was flushed, and 
 she went down the aisle without giving her any 
 promise. 
 
 From the door I glanced back, and saw Miss 
 Clemmer still standing by her empty class - seat, 
 many moments after the room was deserted ; and 
 with her, I felt that she had entered upon a diffi- 
 cult work. 
 
CHAPTER n. 
 
 ANNA MAYLIE'S HOME. 
 
 NNA Maylie's home was on Mor- 
 ristown Common ; and to her it never 
 ^jp looked so unattractive as on those days 
 when she was expecting her Sunday, 
 school teacher. From motives of delicacy, Miss 
 Clemmer always made her aware when she in- 
 tended to come round and see her, wishino^ to 
 speire her all unnecessary mortification, and feel- 
 ing intuitively that there might be many little 
 things which the poor girl would wish to do to be 
 in a manner prepared for her coming. In spite, 
 
Anna Maylie's Home* 21 
 
 however, of this delicate care, these little calls, 
 which Anna would not have missed for worlds, 
 which she was proud to know she received aa 
 often as Eachel Mansfield or Fanny Howland, 
 were the severest mortifications of her life. 
 
 This Monday morning was one of June's love- 
 liest. Bird, and bee, and sunshine, and breeze, 
 and flower, were all at their gayest. Nothing 
 inanimate, save actual dirt and disorder, could be 
 wholly disagreeable, upon such a morning ; and 
 at dirt and disorder poor Anna tugged. She was 
 glad it was summer ; poverty is not so staring 
 then ; in winter their dwelling was so wretched - 
 looking and comfortless ; but now the maples and 
 rose - bushes were doing their best to hide the age 
 and ruin of the old brown house. Giant rose- 
 bushes of a long ago planting kindly covered the 
 starting boards, and the graceful maples towered 
 higher than the tumbling chimney. This morn- 
 ing, too, the window curtains of white cotton 
 *were not so soiled as usual ; she noticed with a 
 
22 Anna May lie. 
 
 sigh of relief that they blew in and out, quite 
 fi*esh and white among the dark, green leaves. 
 Purring away in the deepest gratitude for the sun- 
 shine sat her pretty cat upon the window - sill, 
 rubbing her head gently against the casement, 
 and wooing Anna's soft caress. As she paused a 
 moment to stroke her, Anna thought, — " she has 
 added her lovin^^ little mite towards makin": thinors 
 seem better : " and then she turned to her task 
 again. She had washed the little looking-glass, 
 and the table, and chairs, until they shone. 
 Both her pots of geranium were in full bloom, 
 and she felt that, if nothing else about the room 
 bore marks of refinement, the table surely did, 
 as she massed the green and scarlet luxuriance 
 beneath the looking - glass, with her Bible and 
 Sunday - school books piled before upon her great 
 Commentary. 
 
 But the tears came up again as she went on 
 rinsing up the floor. In spite of her little attempts 
 at refinement, a great unwholesomeness rested 
 
Anna Maylle^s Home. 23 
 
 upon everything ; and more than onco she turned 
 with a sick face toward the rough wooden lounge, 
 where hiy a man who was then the exact embodi- 
 ment of your idea of a drunkard. His heavy 
 snoring overpowered the songs of the birds ; the 
 indescribable vileness of his breath stifled the per- 
 fume of the geraniums and roses. There, the 
 secret of all Anna's poverty, disgrace, and mor- 
 tifications, lay Anna's father, deep in the heavy 
 Monday sleep which follows the drunkard's 
 Sabbath. 
 
 This morning, Anna had cast many an appeal- 
 ing look toward her mother, who was hurrying 
 away to be in time for her Monday's washing at 
 Esquire Howlands ; and more than ono heavy 
 sigh did the miserable woman heave when she 
 was out of Anna's sight. But she felt she could 
 do nothing. The time came for her to go, and 
 then Anna dropped the mop and followed her to 
 the gate. "O Mother," said she, "can't you 
 coax Father out of doors somewhere ? How can 
 
24 Anna Maylie. 
 
 I have Miss Clemmer see him so ? I shall sink 
 through the floor. Do come back and do some- 
 thing, Mother."* 
 
 " I can't, Anna. You know as well as I do 
 where he '11 go if he is roused up and got out of 
 the house. I ain't a-goin' to send him to the 
 tavern. You '11 have to make the best of it, for 
 all I see. I wish that Miss Clemmer would stay 
 at home, and everybody else that is fine like she 
 is." 
 
 The poor girl gave a dry sob as her mother 
 hurried away. " There's no use in living ; and I 
 wish I was dead." She went slowly back to hei 
 work. Her plump face was not easily moved; 
 but now it was distorted by emotion, and was 
 oh, so bitter in its expression ! "I don't care if 
 I did wish so ; I do wish Miss Clemmer woulc 
 stay at home. She is too fair and sweet to come 
 to such a place as this. I wish I had never seen 
 her. I wish there was no church, no Bible, no 
 heaven, no me I I hate living I I hate day- 
 
Anna Maylie^s Home, 25 
 
 light ! I hate all the comfort folks have ! I 
 wish there was nothing anywhere in the world 
 but savages and misery ; then nobody would care 
 for anything ! " 
 
 There was an expression of horror, of such 
 utter heathenism on her face for a moment, that 
 it was a relief when it gave place to a look of 
 common, every - day crossness as she caught the 
 sound of children's voices, and their bare feet 
 fresh from a mud - puddle ; — little Jim chasing 
 Jacky with shrieks of laughter straight across the 
 half -dried floor, and out of the front door, and 
 through the gate, and away, with a whoop and a 
 yell, straight against dainty Miss Clemmer who 
 was just coming round the corner, knocking her 
 parasol and her flowers into the ditch. Poor 
 Anna saw it all, and in her utter despair stood 
 perfectly still. She noted with a dreadful sense 
 of misery the look of indignation which swept 
 across Miss Clemmer's face, and the gesture of 
 disgust with which she stooped to fish her para- 
 
26 Anna Maylze* 
 
 eol out of the filth, — and then — then she dropped 
 her mop and ran out of the back door down 
 amono; the old currant bushes. Such utter con- 
 fusion ! Such bitter shame ! " She knows it's 
 Jacky and Jim ; she will come to the door and 
 see father ; my mop - pail stands right in the 
 doorway ; I won't go in ! " 
 
 She crouched lower among the bushes. She 
 heard the gate swing to, and then the decisive, 
 peremptory, little knock upon the door - casing. 
 Again, again. After a pause she heard her name 
 called by Miss Oemmer's sweet voice, — that 
 sweet voice which she could never resist ; it was 
 the voice which had called her to all the good she 
 had ever known. 
 
 " Anna ! Where is Anna ? " 
 
 She instinctively rose to her feet, and the back 
 door being open, she found herself directly op- 
 posite Miss Clemmer, who saw her down the 
 garden and smiled. Mechanically Anna came 
 forward. Her father's heavy snoring sounded 
 
Anna Maylie's IIom,e, 27 
 
 tliroiigh the summer stillness of the room, but 
 Miss Clemmer ignored it all. " Why, Anna, 
 how industrious you are, to have your scrubbing 
 out of the way so early ? I dare say our Norah 
 has n't thought of it yet. But I am in quite a 
 hurry this morning, Anna ; I will stay out here 
 among your roses while you brush your hair ; I 
 shall stay too long if I come in and sit down ; " — 
 so she turned her back upon Anna's troubles. 
 While she was brushing her braids, and pinning 
 on a collar, Anna thought with a fresh horror of 
 Miss Clemmer in her dainty, white morning 
 dress, endeavoring to make her way though the 
 tall grass in which the wilderness of untrimmed 
 bushes grew. She saw, however, that Miss 
 Clemmer had confined her ramble to the rose - 
 tree which grew near the gate ; and when Anna 
 came to the door she bade her put on her bonnet 
 for a walk ; and how grateful the girl was to be 
 taken away from the shame of home. 
 
 Miss (Clemmer drew the brown arm with ita 
 
28 Anna Maylie. 
 
 calico sleeve within her own. As they left the 
 Common, and Cottage Grove, and walked on, 
 Anna's spirits rose once more. "She knows it 
 all ; she has seen it all ; seen the worst ; and yet 
 she likes me. And, anyway, none of it was 
 me ! " she added to herself, as she caught the 
 contagious gladness of Nature. Miss Clemmer's 
 eyes had rested all the way upon the changing 
 face, and now she said, — 
 
 "Anna, I would like to know how old you 
 are ; fifteen, is it not? I thought so. You have 
 always been at home, I think? Are you accus- 
 tomed to doing many varieties of work ? " 
 
 Anna looked puzzled. "Why, yes, of course. 
 No — that is. Miss Clemmer, you would n't think 
 I was — yet I am a great help to mother." 
 
 "Yes, Anna, I know you are ; and I think my 
 question was very abrupt indeed. I know you 
 must do a great deal ; your mother is gone sev- 
 eral days every week. You must do cooking, 
 and something of all varieties of housework. It 
 
A7ina Maylie^s Home, 29 
 
 was something quite different that I meant, how- 
 
 I 
 
 ever. It was whether you understand any kind 
 of work which would bring money into your 
 hands ; — you are growing to need many things 
 wliich your parents are scarcely able to procure 
 for you." 
 
 Anna's face crimsoned painfully. She said 
 nothing. Miss Clemmer, after a pause, went on : 
 " Would you like to earn something ? or do you 
 already? I am not inquisitive, Anna, but you 
 are now old enough to feel personal responsibil- 
 ity, and to have plans of your own. I think you 
 need a friend. Will you not tell me how it is at 
 home, and how you look at life, my dear? I 
 have long wished that I could assist you, — assist 
 you to become not only independent, but to be a 
 greater help to your mother." 
 
 "Poor mother!" exclaimed Anna, in a half 
 choked voice. " Poor mother at the washtub, 
 buys so much with her earnings, — so much, — 
 you can have no idea, Miss Clemmer ! And the 
 
30 Anna Maylie, 
 
 best is for me, — nothing for herself. All of 
 Jim's and Jacky's clothes, and father's, too," she 
 added with a blush. " I have never earned any- 
 thing. No one at our house earns anything 
 but mother, — not anything, — not flour, — not 
 wood, — not any one thing, — mother does it all. 
 And if I only could ! I do n't need anything for 
 myself; but it would help mother so, and per- 
 haps she could be at home more." 
 
 " Then would you be willing to come to our 
 house and assist me two days of every week ? " 
 
 "Help you, Miss Clemmer? Come to your 
 house? But I could n't, if you only think. I 
 have never done any work in a right or nice way. 
 You need a lady to do even your work." 
 
 " Hush, Anna ! The work I wished help about 
 is not the housework, and I expected to teach you 
 to do it myself. I think it is very agreeable 
 work, and I could easily do it, but I think it bet- 
 ter to give employment to those who need assist* 
 ance ; for I have found that those who are truly 
 
Anna Maylie's Home, 31 
 
 deserving of it, usually prefer to receive money as 
 payment for services rendered, than as a gift. It 
 is for this reason that I so frequently hire work 
 performed which 1 might do myself." 
 
 But Anna had a doubt as to whether she could 
 learn to do work which Miss Clemmer herself 
 would like. She said, — 
 
 " You may have patience with me, but I know 
 the servants never would. I know that I often 
 try mother dreadfully." 
 
 Miss Clemmer smiled. 
 
 " I will tell you about this work, Anna. Ger- 
 tie and I have always spent a portion of our al- 
 lowance in assisting a young woman who has a 
 great attachment for us. We employed her to do 
 our fine ironing, — our ruffles, handkerchiefs, and 
 collars, and to get up our laces, — articles too fine 
 to go with the family ironings. The same wom- 
 an has always done our white mending, but her 
 sister is ill, and she has gone back to France, 
 and probably will not return. I have long 
 
32 Anna Mat/lie, 
 
 thouglit of taking you partially in my care, Anna ; 
 and lately I have concluded that if you would 
 like it, I would teach you to do this woman's work, 
 I can teach you to get up laces, and to clear 
 starch, and to mend and do darning like a lady. 
 There are a large number of families who would 
 give employment and good wages to persons who 
 could do this class of work satisfactorily. It 
 ought to be a fortune to you. And it is not hard 
 work, — it is only particular." 
 
 " I would like a steady way of earning money," 
 said Anna, thoughtfully. " So much Monday, 
 and so much Tuesday, and Wednesday, and 
 every day the week through. I would like it to 
 be me v/ho earned the money, instead of poor 
 mother. Would you please, Miss Clemmer, to 
 go and see mother and talk to her about it as you 
 have to me? She will know better than I do 
 whether I am capable of doing this." 
 
 " Yes, I will, ray dear Anna. I will go round 
 and see her this morning. Shall I also settle the 
 
Anna Maylie^s Home, 33 
 
 question of wages with her? and what days you 
 will be able to come to me? Well, then, I will 
 send you back home now, for I have kept you a 
 long time, and your mother away too. I hope 
 she will allow you to spend the coming Friday 
 with me. But I may feel certain, may I not, 
 Anna, that you will not forget what I said to you 
 all last Sabbath? I should be very sad if you 
 should forget to come to your teacher's prayer- 
 meeting, Anna." And without waiting for a re- 
 ply, she left h^r. 
 
CHAPTER m. 
 
 ais^a's day at ivnss cle^oier's. 
 
 S ISS CLEMMER'S benevolences 
 were carefully arranged ; this endeav- 
 ro)^ or to assist Anna Maylie was only 
 one of them. But in the Maylie 
 household, Anna's going out from home was a 
 vivid event. In poor ]Mrs. Maylie's heart there 
 was a settled faith that this was a commencement 
 which would affect the entire future life of her 
 daughter. Jacky and Jim looked upon it as a 
 sort of excursion into fairy - land, and they spec- 
 
Annans Day at Miss Clemmer's, 35 
 
 ulated upon what sister might bring home ; for 
 their mother, on those memorable days when the 
 regular help had failed in the Clemmer kitchen 
 and she had been summoned, had always returned 
 liiden with baskets of fruit, or fragments of dainty 
 cookery whose composition was something en- 
 tirely unknown to her children. 
 
 "Well, what of it? It's high time she was 
 earning her own living ! " Mr. Mayliesaid when, 
 during one of his half sober intervals, he was 
 made aware of the arrangement. " But mind, 
 now, what I tell you, Anna ! Don't you be put 
 upon ! May lie blood 's as good as Clemmer 
 blood any day ; and no Maylie yet ever eat at the 
 second table. You just come home if you ain't 
 treated well ; mind that, Anna ! " 
 
 Anna's lip half curled at her father's maudlin 
 independence. She could not very well help 
 remembering how often their breakfast table had 
 been supplied entirely from the baskets of broken 
 viands which her poor, patient mother had 
 
36 Anna Maylie, 
 
 brought home from the great houses where she 
 washed ; but, wreck as her father was, she had 
 never yet spoken a disrespectful word to him, and 
 constantly strove to avoid thinking a disrespect- 
 ful thought. 
 
 To Anna herself it was the event of her life. 
 Her affection for her teacher was a perfect passion 
 with her, — a passionate blending of admiration 
 and gratitude. She was never weary of looking 
 at her; never weary of admiring her loveliness 
 and refinement ; never weary of remembering that 
 summer night, years ago, when the graceful lady 
 came out of the arbor by the garden path, as she 
 was going home with her mother after the wash- 
 ing was over, and talked with them, and called 
 her a nice - looking little girl, and made her 
 mother promise to have her ready to go to Sun- 
 day - school the next Sabbath ; and from that day 
 on her place had been next to her teacher's side. 
 All the beauty that she had ever known, all the 
 good, all the hope for something better and 
 
AnnoCs Day at Miss Chmmer's, 37 
 
 brighter, had come to her through her Sunday- 
 school and her teacher. And until lately she had 
 never appreciated how her mother had worked, 
 and washed, and sat up nights, that her child's 
 clothes should be neat and whole on the Sabbath ; 
 — she could hardly understand, even now, how 
 the thought that her daughter was growing up 
 respectable was a sufficient reward. 
 
 Miss Clemmer had given much week - day at- 
 tention to the little waif she had taken by the 
 hand. Indeed, in her practice of Christianity, 
 she never forgot the close reasoning of the Apos- 
 tle James : 
 
 " If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute 
 of daily food, and one of you say unto them, 
 Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled ; not- 
 withstanding ye give them not those things which 
 are needful to the body ; what doth it profit ? " 
 
 She had found Anna singularly alive to in- 
 struction, and singularly able to use everything 
 she learned in learning more. She added a Bible 
 
38 Anna Maylie* 
 
 Dictionary to her previous gift of a Bible, and 
 followed the Dictionary with a couple of volumes 
 of Biblical antiquities. Finding her able to ap- 
 preciate any research which threw light upon 
 Bible life, she lent her books of Eastern travel, 
 and gave her the use of a set of Commentaries, 
 thouorh she marveled the while at her eaojer little 
 pupil. Of course this girl of thirteen, fourteen, 
 and fifteen, could not master or appreciate the 
 finer portions of these works, — I dare say she 
 did not even read the profound arguments, the 
 speculations, and the doctrinal parts. But all 
 facts she appropriated ; and she remembered all 
 points of geography, and all descriptions of man- 
 ners and customs. She thought it merely duty 
 to answer all questions asked by her teacher or 
 the superintendent, and she never left that task to 
 the usual chorus of younger children. In com- 
 mon with the young ladies of other Sunday- 
 schools, those of the Morristown First church 
 thought it hardly becoming or dignified to an- 
 
AnncHs Day at Miss Clemmer's, 39 
 
 swer the Superintendent's questions in common 
 with the children ; but Anna Maylie was too 
 downright to be held back by any such scruples. 
 
 E^Gry year Miss Clemmer's interest in this 
 girl from Morristown Common had deepened, 
 until now nothinof would have induced her to let 
 go her clasp of that strong, loving, little brown 
 hand. Of late her interest in her as a Sunday- 
 school scholar had widened into the thought that 
 she was a girl for whose future as a woman she 
 might be held responsible. As this feeling of 
 responsibility grew upon her, she used, at first, 
 to shrink ; for it laid so many duties and so much 
 care upon her ; and it was only after half a year's 
 pondering, and maturing of her plans, and after 
 many prayers for patience and wisdom, that she 
 made that Monday morning call I told you of. 
 
 I can not describe to you the feelings in Anna 
 Maylie's heart as she hastened away on that Fri- 
 day morning, thinking not so much of what she 
 was to do, or how much she was to earn, as of 
 
40 Anna Maylie. 
 
 the fact that she was to work directly under Miss 
 Clemmer's own eye. To her also it was ^^ery 
 much like an excursion into fairyland ; but her 
 pleasure was toned down by the fear that she 
 misfht not succeed in doinsr Miss Clemmer's work 
 nicely ; and she lost more and more confidence 
 in herself as she came nearer and nearer, until 
 she felt strangely timid as she unlatched the mas- 
 sive garden gate which opened upon the nearest 
 approach to the house. She walked slowly up 
 the broad, graveled path, noticing the immense 
 expanse of strawberry beds, the innumerable grape 
 trellises, the sparkling array of glass, and the 
 long stretches of vegetables whose very leaf 
 sometimes was quite unknown to her. Measur- 
 ing the land with her eye, she wondered why, 
 since one gardener could do all this, it had 
 not been so ordered that her father should be a 
 sober, working man, and then they might at least 
 have had a good garden. " What a difference it 
 would have made with our living," she thought. 
 
Anna's Day at Miss Clemmer's, 41 
 
 " 'Twould have helped mother so." And her lip 
 already began to quiver. 
 
 A few steps on brought her into Miss Clem- 
 mer's rosery. And Anna loved flowers so that 
 she could not help pausing and wondering at the 
 strange, emerald freshness of nearly all the bush- 
 es ; they were almost as freshly green as the close - 
 shorn velvet turf at their feet. "Why!" said 
 she after a moment's survey, " there is not a bare 
 twig, nor g, dead leaf, nor a withered rose ! 
 What makes them so different from mine? Qh, 
 I see. The old flowers, and rusty leaves, and 
 empty stems, go into a big basket. I '11 remem- 
 ber that." 
 
 But suddenly she started on with a curious 
 consciousness that she was using, not her own 
 time, but Miss Clemmer's ; for her mother had 
 impressed it upon her that she must expect to work 
 from 7, A. M., until 6, p. M. Following her 
 mother's instructions, she proceeded at once to a 
 certain side door, and inquired of the girl who 
 
42 Anna Maylie, 
 
 answered her ring, for the housekeeper. To that 
 bustling personage she gave her name, and said 
 that she was expected by Miss Clemmer. She 
 was left standing in the hall while the house- 
 keeper visited some distant portion of the house ; 
 but finally the woman reappeared and told Anna 
 to follow her. She was taken through a large 
 apartment, where the only furniture seemed to be 
 an immense table standing upon a gorgeous 
 crumb - cloth, and glittering with three or four 
 great silver dishes whose uses she could not even 
 guess at ; then into another hall, and up a grand 
 staircase, whose broad, low steps was a strange 
 revelation of ease to Anna after the steep, high 
 stairs she toiled up and down at home. They 
 passed along a beautifully - panneled corridor, 
 and, half way down, the housekeeper threw open 
 a door and ushered her into a great room which 
 seemed at first, to her dazzled eyes, to be a gar- 
 den of flowers. 
 
 " There, this be Miss Clemmer's room. She 
 
Annans Day at Miss Clemmer^s, 43 
 
 told me to take you up here and leave you till she 
 come. And she told me to tell you to spend 
 your time getting acquainted with her plants and 
 her pictures." She turned to the door, mutter- 
 ing, — " Though what's got into her head, I can't 
 tell, a- sending such as this alone in here ! " 
 
 She closed the door, leaving Anna standing on 
 the velvet carpet entirely bewildered. Years 
 afterward, in the elegant parlor of her own pleas- 
 ant parsonage home, Anna said, speaking of that 
 morning and the rich carpet with its soft, heavy 
 pile, that she remembered feeling, absurd though 
 it was, very much as if she had stepped upon 
 somebody's best bed with her shoes on. But 
 Miss Clemmer had calculated wisely. Anna 
 could not long feel ill at ease, left to herself among 
 so many flowers. The callas, and oleanders, and 
 azalias won her soon to forget herself and come 
 familiarly in among them, and it was not long be- 
 fore she had made the circuit of the apartment, 
 pausing before each picture, and, like any other 
 
44 Anna May lie, 
 
 natural and uncultivated young girl, trying all 
 the different easy chairs. She lingered a long 
 time before Miss Clemmer's melodeon ; but I will 
 here say that she never once paused at the well - 
 strewn writing - table, nor examined the cozy 
 work -stand whose vase of house violets, togeth- 
 er with the little cane seat rocking - chair 
 with its snowy cushions and tidies, standing at 
 the balcony window, spoke so strongly of her 
 teacher. 
 
 She had quite lost her sense of awkwardness 
 and restraint when Miss Clemmer came in, fol- 
 lowed by a house - maid who carried a large 
 basket of ironed clothes. She sat down, pre- 
 pared to try to understand all she n>ight wish her 
 to learn. 
 
 " I am obliged to your mother for gratifying 
 me, Anna," she said, " and I see you are quite a 
 pattern of punctuality ; for I saw you at seven aa 
 you came up the path ; but at that time I waa 
 busy. Papa wished me to hear Gertie's nevi 
 
Anna's Bay at Miss Olemmer's. 45 
 
 music teacher before engaging him. Would you 
 like to hear her new song ? I think it rather 
 pretty." 
 
 You must remember that it was thirteen years 
 ago when I tell you that the piece was " Hazel 
 Dell." Tame and old-fashioned as it would 
 seem now among the brilliant compositions which 
 load our music-racks, it was something exquisite 
 then, when it was sung by so sweet a voice as 
 Miss Clemmer's, and accompanied by the rich 
 tones of her melodeon. As Anna stood by her 
 teacher, she knew that she had been just as 
 graciously entertained as Fanny or Eachel would 
 have been, and she thought that Miss Clemmer 
 must be more like a friend than an employer, so 
 they sat down by the work-table. 
 
 " Since I am to enjoy your services, Anna, I 
 thought I would like to give you an outfit ; and I 
 have accordingly purchased this pocket work- 
 box for you. I thought that years from now 
 you \?ould like to use something I had given you." 
 
46 Anna Maylie, 
 
 You may think it unsuitable for a girl like 
 Anna, as it was a mother-of-pearl work- box 
 with silver mountings, — just as exquisite a pres- 
 ent as she would have given to Fanny or Eachel, 
 Anna felt. It locked with a tiny silver lock and 
 key, and contained a silver thimble engraved with 
 Anna's name, together with the usual furnishings, 
 all of the best and daintiest. 
 
 " It is too handsome," Anna said when she 
 could speak ; " much too handsome for our house, 
 and my clothes, and me." 
 
 " But, Anna, I expect that your surroundings 
 will constantly change, now that you are begin- 
 ning to take an active share in life. Besides, I 
 think it never does a girl any harm to have some- 
 thing beautiful for her own. I fancied that you 
 would like to see it on the table where your books 
 and your beautiful geraniums are." She was ex- 
 amining a pair of fine stockings as she spoke, and 
 she added, — "Do you know how to pic^ up rav- 
 eled stitches in stockings ? Few girls do ; but 
 
Annans Day at Miss Glemmers, 47 
 
 Ninette taught me. It is no difficult task after 
 it is learned." 
 
 Anna watched her, with her delicate fingers 
 deftly using a sewing needle to knit up the brok- 
 en stitches until the fine stocking seemed never to 
 have needed repairing. " Here are a pair of 
 Papa's socks, which you may try," her teacher 
 said. "It is so much easier to learn with a 
 coarser thread." 
 
 Anna took the work, but from the first the soft 
 cotton stuck to her fingers, and it was a long, 
 long time before her simple task was accom- 
 plished, and then the mended place was not soft 
 and imperceptible like Miss Clemmer's. She saw 
 that Miss Clemmer was looking over the basket 
 of garments for those which needed mending, or a 
 timely stitch, and she ventured to say, — "If you 
 please, give me something as plain and coarse as 
 possible. My fingers seem so very rough this 
 morning. I never noticed before that they were 
 so big." 
 
48 Anna May lie, 
 
 " Useful fingers often are," Miss Clemmer said, 
 pleasantly ; but she could not avoid observing the 
 clumsiness of thos€ poor, reddened and roughened 
 hands. In silence she unladed her basket of its 
 linens, and lawns, and long clothes, with their fine 
 rufflings, and tucks, and embroideries. Anna's 
 eyes could not help brightening with a natural 
 feminine delight as she surveyed them ; yet it 
 was with a sober face that she threaded a needle 
 to sew on a bit of crimped ruffling which had 
 been ripped from the hem of a skirt. The deli- 
 cate cambric was still less easily managed by her 
 rough fingers, neither could she manage a needle 
 of the requisite fineness, but broke it, and then 
 tumbled the skirt sadly in her eflforts to find the 
 place again. Her face was covered with a pro- 
 fuse perspiration by the time she had completed 
 her task, and her endeavors to refold the garment 
 were something painful for Miss Clemmer to wit- 
 ness. 
 
 Her rough hands I With a great efibrt she 
 
AnncCs Day at Miss Clemmer*s, 49 
 
 choked back her tears and said, — and was she 
 not brave, girls ? — "I can 't do your work, after 
 all. Miss Clemmer. I can't wash dishes, and 
 mop, and have my hands in hot suds, and split 
 wood, and pick up chips, and pare potatoes, four 
 days of the week, and then come and sew your 
 beautiful clothes the other two days ; — my fin- 
 gers just stick to everything I touch. I do n't 
 see why I did not think of my hands." 
 
 " Do n't be discouraged, dear Anna," said Miss 
 Clemmer, but her own sweet, rose - leaf cheek 
 was flooded with a red tide. She ought to have 
 thought of Anna's hands ; she ought to have 
 known that this was unsuitable work for her, 
 unless, indeed, she could employ her all the 
 time. She said kindly, — "Perhaps you will 
 find the starching and ironing pleasanter." 
 
 Anna shook her head. *' It was your collars 
 and laces? I remember your pretty laces, and 
 your worked collars. I could never handle them 
 without tearing them all to pieces. You need a 
 
50 Anna Maylie, 
 
 lady to do your work ; not such as you find me." 
 " A little practice would make you at home 
 with these things ; that would make a great differ- 
 ence, I think." 
 
 "!N'o. It's my hands; and they never '11 be 
 any better. I can 't parboil them, and cut them, 
 and scratch them, and tear them with the wood, 
 four days, and then be fit to handle laces the 
 other two," repeated poor Anna, decisively. She 
 put down the cambrics she had been looking at 
 without unfolding, and sat back in her chair. 
 " You need a lady, Miss Clemmer," 
 
 Miss Clemmer scarcely knew how to combat the 
 straightforwardness of the young girl, or whether, 
 indeed, it ought to be combatted. She remained 
 silent because she knew not what to say. She 
 regarded the hardened brown hands, folded in 
 Anna's lap, and then remembered Ninette's lady 
 fingers, delicate, soft and taper as her own, and 
 she realized her mistake. She wondered that she 
 could have made it. After every possible view 
 
Annans Day at Miss Clemmer's, 51 
 
 of the matter, she was obliged to come back to 
 Anna's common -sense decision, — to do this 
 work she must employ her all the while, or not at 
 all. Could she educate her to become an efficient 
 lady's maid? She ran over Ninette's myriad 
 dainty duties, of every one of which this young 
 girl was ignorant, and for which, it began to 
 glimmer through Miss Clemmer's mind, she had 
 no instinctive taste. She would not only have 
 to learn every art, but have to learn it mechani- 
 cally. Had she herself time to teach her ? There 
 was so much to learn if she was to be thoroughly 
 fitted to support herself by filling that position. 
 For instance, the simple care of the wardrobes, 
 which Ninette assumed so readily, what a varied 
 knowledge of fine sewing was required. She 
 looked again at the bright, good face, — how 
 frank and faithful its expression was ! — and then 
 at the reddened hands, and at the square, rugged, 
 little figure, and she intuitively felt that Anna 
 would have no liking at all for the life of a lady's 
 
52 Anna Maylie, 
 
 maid. *^ I must not go on with my mistake," 
 she said to herself, "if, indeed, I can atone for 
 the mischief I have already wrought ; for I fear 
 she may have built many hopes upon what I said 
 to her; said so thoughtlessly, it now seems." 
 
 As Miss Clemmer still preserved her silence, 
 the heavy tears began to fall over Anna's cheeks. 
 She felt acutely all that the silence implied, — 
 her undeniable awkwardness which she had never 
 before realized, her unfitness to serve her beloved 
 teacher, — in fact, she knew the end of all her 
 dreams had come. She rose. 
 
 " I think I better go home, Miss Clemmer, 
 since I am no good." 
 
 "No, Anna, indeed, no ! You need not sew if 
 you dislike it. It is of no consequence, except 
 that it still leaves me to study what is your voca- 
 tion in life ; because I know there is some em- 
 ployment awaiting you which nature has fitted 
 you for, and which you will enjo}^ Would you 
 like to read to me a short time while I sew ? " 
 
Annans Day at Miss Glemmer's, 55 
 
 A volume of Thomas a Kempis lay upon the 
 work - table, and near by was Jeremy Taylor's 
 Holy Living, and the life of Madame Guy on. 
 But she gave the girl none of this grave, medita- 
 tive prose in which she herself delighted. Both 
 Beulah and Prime's Boat Life lay on the melo- 
 deon, and this latter book she handed to Anna. 
 But Anna was a dry, monotonous reader at the 
 best, and I think Miss Clemmer gave her the 
 book only to employ and detain her while she 
 thought. The lotus waters of the Nile, the lazy, 
 Egyptian sunshine, the waving palms, and the 
 dusky Nubian boatmen of Prime's enchanting 
 pages blended before her eyes in a distant mirage 
 while she incessantly asked herself, " What shall 
 I do with this girl ? What ? " 
 
 And it seemed that Anna failed also to inter- 
 est herself, for in the very middle of a sentence 
 she shut the book, and said, — " I could be taught 
 to work in the kitchen, Miss Clemmer, and I 
 could soon do that kind of work nicely ; but I 
 
54 Anna May lie, 
 
 should n*t like it, — not at all, — I am sure 1 
 should not." 
 
 "Yes, I know you could, Anna," her teacher 
 replied. " I had glanced at such a plan myself, 
 out it is not quite what we would like for you. 
 I think there is something better, some particular 
 avocation for you. And if there is, my dear, 
 doubt not that you will be led toward it. I think 
 there are kinds of employment which will pay 
 you better than domestic service, and be also 
 more congenial. You will remember, will you 
 not, that it was my purpose to give you work 
 that would have kept you near me ? What would 
 you like to do, Anna? " 
 
 " Oh, I know very well what I would like to 
 do. Miss Clemmer," Anna answered without a 
 moment's hesitation, " only you would n't think 
 it proper." 
 
 "Proper, my dear, indeed ! What is it then?" 
 
 " It is to work for your gardener. It 's boy's 
 work, I know," she hurried on, noticing Miss 
 
Annans Day at Miss Clemmer'*s. 55 
 
 Clemmer's sisprised look, and fearing reproof. 
 " It 's always called boy's work ; but I do n't care 
 what it 's called ; it 's easy. It 's much easier 
 than what I do at home ; a great deal easier than 
 scrubbing, and sweeping, and lifting heavy ket- 
 tles and tubs, and it 's so much cleaner and 
 sweeter. Oh, if it could only be that you would 
 not think it improper, but let me come, and have 
 the gardener teach me." 
 
 " This is, indeed, a very strange fancy of 
 yours, Anna. What could you do with John- 
 son's heavy tools ? How could you use his spades^ 
 for instance ? " 
 
 " Oh, but Miss Clemmer, it is not all spading. 
 His little dibbles, and rakes, and hoes, and prun- 
 ing shears are so nice; — they are not half so 
 heavy as house things. Oh, Miss Clemmer," — 
 and the girl leaned anxiously forward toward her 
 teacher, her eyes actually filling with tears. 
 
 "There, there, Anna, — don't suffer yourself 
 to become excited. Sit down and let me think.'* 
 
56 Anna Maylie, 
 
 But Anna could not control hei eagerness. 
 Miss Clemmer had never seen her somewhat im- 
 movable features stirred before, and her expres- 
 sion was one of such intense enthusiasm, and her 
 determination not to be refused so plain, that she 
 v^as almost shocked vrith the idea which she re- 
 ceived of Anna's strength of will. Her growing 
 conviction, that this was no commonplace girl, 
 seemed to make her duty only the more difficult. 
 She could not avoid seeing that she had under- 
 taken to deal with a nature much stronger, and 
 more original and daring, than her own. In- 
 deed, she felt she must even only advise her after 
 the most mature deliberation, lest Anna should 
 impetuously lead her where she was not prepared 
 to go. 
 
 All this while Anna had gone on talking. " I 
 remember so well what I have heard you say, 
 dear teacher, that we could be true ladies, no 
 matter who and what we were with. I always 
 think of it at home when it is at the worst. Now 
 
AnnaHs Day at Miss Clemmer^s, 57 
 
 I am sure that the ground, and the grass, and 
 the weeds even, are nicer and more agreeable 
 than a kitchen. I can 't think it would make me 
 rougher; and I just love everything out doors 
 so ! And here it would be more refined than 
 among almost anybody's housework — among 
 your roses, and lilies, and arbors, and trees, and 
 nice walks — oh, Miss Clemmer, it would make 
 me a lady if anything would ! " 
 
 Her torrent of entreaty made Miss Clemmer 
 almost nervous, and she made no reply. She 
 only quietly said, — "You have dropped your 
 book, Anna. And won 't you straighten the 
 melodeon cover, please? — Thank you. And 
 now would n't you like to go down in the garden 
 a little while? I will show you the way down. 
 Tell Johnson, if you please, that I would like 
 him to take you over the grounds and then into 
 the conservatory. Come back when you are 
 tired." 
 
 The girl understood instinctively that she was 
 
58 Anna Maylie, 
 
 not at liberty to urge her wishes any farther at 
 present, and she followed Miss Clemmer down 
 stairs in silence. 
 
 Miss Clemmer came slowly back, and sat down 
 and folded her hands, and tried once more to 
 solve the intricate problem which she had taken 
 up so confidently. She believed domestic service 
 the proper, the most comfortable and honorable 
 employment for nine - tenths of those of her sex 
 w^ho lived by their labor ; but she still clung to 
 her first idea, that there was a different and a 
 more remunerative avocation awaiting Anna 
 May lie ; and she decided that she should not take 
 her into the kitchen until her unfitness for any- 
 thing else was proved. Quite as resolutely she 
 put aside the girl's own plans ; but they came 
 back to her again and again, with Anna's own 
 persistence, until, at last, she wearily asked her- 
 self, "And, pray, why is it not proper ? " She 
 thoughtfully reviewed Anna's reasonings. And 
 although she instinctively shrank from anything 
 
Annans Day at Miss Clemmer^s, 59 
 
 like innovation, she yet felt that she ought to hon- 
 or her own words to the girl, — that if she was 
 fitted for any particular avocation, God would 
 lead her towards it. 
 
 " I scarcely think Johnson needs her, or would 
 care to have her come," she pursued. 
 
 Still, was there any good reason why she 
 should not here act upon the same principle which 
 caused her to hire so many kinds of work done, 
 which she might easily do herself, in order to 
 give employment and wages to those who needed 
 them ? 
 
 After an hour of thought and perplexity, she 
 said, — "If I could only believe that it would be 
 a lasting benefit to her, I would do it. I would 
 certainly do it if I could in any way become con- 
 vinced that it was really fitting her to earn her 
 own living. I think I have somewhere read of 
 women who grew the small fruits for market as 
 a business, and I really don't see why they 
 might not become professional florists. But 
 
60 Anna May lie. 
 
 in Anna's case I do n't know, I am sure, wheth- 
 er this would lead to any actual good or not. 
 Yet at present I can see nothing better -to do 
 than to allow her to follow her inclmations. Let 
 me not fail to trust that in all things He leadeth 
 
^ 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 THE PKAYER MEETING. 
 
 dM^O^NNA Maylie thought that Friday 
 
 night, that she had never known any- 
 thing before so peaceful as the twi- 
 light which was shuttino: down so 
 dreamily upon the Clemmer grounds, and around 
 the great house. For to her, Morristown Com- 
 mon, and the house with its waste land, were 
 always, witliout fail, very dreary in the edge of 
 the evening. At that hour, her father was 
 always off down at the saloon on the corner, 
 Jacky and little Jim away on some distant street 
 
62 Anna Maylie, 
 
 corner with other young vagabonds, and she was 
 left alone, watching long and lonesomely for her 
 tired and belated mother. It had always been, 
 from her earliest remembrance, her hour to hate 
 life. 
 
 But to - night, twilight was a beautiful hour ; 
 and, listening to her teacher's low tones, life re- 
 vealed itself to her, grand and solemn. She list- 
 ened dreamily, leaning her head against the 
 tasement. The dewy odors of the flower garden 
 ^lled the great, luxurious room, and from where 
 she sat she could see the house stretch away, 
 wing upon wing, with its lighted windows, until 
 it seemed almost like a palace or a temple ; and 
 then she saw the carriage with its lamps drive 
 up, and Miss Gertie go out in her white cloak 
 and floating tarleton, all flowers and brightness. 
 It was all like some beautiful changing dream 
 without, and deeply contrasted with the peaceful, 
 church - like quiet within Miss Clemmer's room, 
 where the story of our sin and His suffering, 
 
The Prayer Meeting. 63 
 
 which she had heard so often, was being told to 
 her again, until the thino^s seen became to her as 
 a dream, and the things unseen life's only solemn 
 reality. And Anna thought, as she moved away 
 from the window to the melodeon which her 
 teacher had opened, that, this time, she should 
 not forgot the story. 
 
 Both voices were sweet. Miss Clemmer's was 
 particularly so, while Anna's alto was strong and 
 clear, and ^she knew this part for many tunes 
 which they sang in church and Sabbath school. 
 It seemed to her, as one sacred hymn after an- 
 other floated cut upon the peaceful night, that 
 she could never be fretful and discontented with 
 the troubles of her lot again, since they were but 
 for a season. If she could always be sure that 
 she would remember her responsibility to God 
 «,s she felt it to - night ; if she could only re- 
 member just that and feel it, not fearfully, but 
 lovingly, as she did now, even her life might be 
 grand and serene. 
 
64 Anna Maylte, 
 
 " And I never can feel again as I have to - day, 
 I think. Here I have fretted because I could not 
 have just my choice of work, when it is all only 
 to last a few months or years. Never once in 
 all my life have I considered what my life would 
 be throughout all eternity. Never once ! I never 
 once remember out of Sunday school that the 
 Son of God died for me. I wonder, if I should 
 become a Christian, if that would keep me from 
 foro^ettino^ it. Life can not be such a trouble to 
 Christians, for I suppose these things I think of 
 for just to - night are always in their minds. Oh, 
 I wish I was a Christian too." 
 
 She wondered no longer at the placid dignity 
 of Dr. Mason, at the loveliness of her teacher's 
 daily life, or at the serene and beaming look of 
 go many faces she had liked to gaze upon at 
 church. A deep, earnest longing to be a Chris- 
 tian herself took possession of Anna Maylie. 
 With her it was not so much a sorrowing over 
 her past life, as it was an all - pervading wish 
 
The Prayer Meeting. 65 
 
 henceforward to belong wholly to God. I think 
 even then the hand of Compassion was resting 
 upon her. The thouglit of Jesus came to her 
 as a great gladness. He was the Way, and she 
 knew the Way, and there need be no search. 
 
 She did not comprehend her gladness. But 
 there came stealing over her such a sweet thank- 
 fulness, that there was to be a prayer meeting 
 that very night, not one of the general kind for 
 the whole world, but a prayer meeting for just 
 their own little Sunday-school class, — her class. 
 It semed to her as if her teacher already lived so 
 near heaven that she had only to reach up her 
 hand to take a blessing down. If she might only 
 reach one down to her ! 
 
 Miss Clemmer sang on, though she felt that 
 the evening was passing ; but she knew very well 
 that the gate had not o pened, nor had there 
 been any ring at the door - bell since Gertie went. 
 Her ear had' been painfully alert. Her heart 
 sank, for now she felt sure that none of her class 
 
66 Anna Maylie. 
 
 were coming, — not one of them. Perhaps even 
 Anna would not have been there if she had not 
 been, as it were, entrapped. Her head sank 
 upon the melodeon. " O Heavenly Father, 
 work Thou for me ; I am nothing ; I have 
 faUed." 
 
 When at last she spoke to the girl who stood 
 at her chair, there was a painful quiver in her 
 voice. " Anna, it is time for our prayer - meet- 
 ing, and I think we will not feel troubled because 
 there are only two of us. Jesus left, as we 
 know, an especial promise to two or three. He 
 must have known, I love to believe, that work 
 for Him would often begin with just two or three, 
 and so He left that sweet, strengthening promise. 
 The girls have none of them come, but we will 
 have our meeting^ all the same." 
 
 " A prayer meeting for just me ? " Anna re- 
 peated at last, in astonishment. Tears came to 
 Miss Clemmer's eyes as she turned around, and 
 took Anna's hand. 
 
The Prayer Meeting, 67 
 
 "Just you, dear. Do you not know that if 
 one of my scholars could be given to me as a 
 jewel of rejoicing, I could go on and serve four 
 years longer? Can you tell me, Anna, that 
 you should certainly have come here to - night, 
 if you had not already been here through the 
 day?" 
 
 Anna thought wonderingly upon the earnest- 
 ness of the question, and the earnestness which 
 she saw upon her teacher's face. " Why, I 
 never thought there was such a thing as not com- 
 ing," she answered, simply. 
 
 So in the room where she had prayed for them 
 all so many years, IVIiss Clemmer knelt with her 
 one faithful scholar. Anna knelt also, feeling 
 half friohtened at the thousfht that an entire 
 prayer meeting was being held for her. None of 
 her teacher's sorrow and longing could be hidden 
 in her prayer, and Anna was shaken to see her 
 so moved. Her head sank low in her hands. 
 
 " Can she have felt like this for us, for me, 
 
6S Anna Maylie. 
 
 these four years ? We were not worth this ; no 
 one on earth is." 
 
 She knew nothing of prayer like this. She 
 had heard sinners prayed for, indeed, and listened 
 unmoved as church going people do. But this 
 tearful pleading for Rachel, for Satie, and Fanny, 
 and Clara, and herself too, was prayer that shook 
 her like a tempest. Once with a white face she 
 glanced toward the door, and listened for foot- 
 steps, she believed that they must come ; she too 
 prayed that they might. If they had listened never 
 80 carelessly in Sunday - school, they could not 
 hear the name of Jesus pronounced here without 
 tears. " Oh, it will never, never be so again with 
 me," she thought, " for I have heard EQm say 
 even unto me, ' Behold my hands and my feet ! ' 
 I wonder if He does not once appear unto every 
 one who will go and be His disciple." 
 
 Pale, but with a face of light, Miss Clemmer 
 rose. Anna stood irresolutely a moment, and then 
 went to her teacher's side. " Oh, I am so 
 
The Prayer Meeting. 69 
 
 grieved ; I can not bear to see you suffer so ; we 
 are not worth it." 
 
 Miss Clemmer hushed her, and drew her be- 
 side her on the sofa. " Anna, you are grieved to 
 see me suffer for you ; and yet so often you have 
 heard me tell of Jesus and been unmoved. You 
 know so well of those hours in the garden ; you 
 know of His life here. Every sinner that has 
 lived, and will live, He bore in His heart, and 
 wept over, and sorrowed over with a grief to 
 which my poor human grief is as a shadow and a 
 dream. He died, Anna, and such a death ! Oh, 
 I have sometimes thought that He suffered, in 
 dying, the pains of all the millions of earth when 
 they die. — Have you no heart to give your Sav 
 iour, Anna?" 
 
 Anna's face was wet with tears, but she looked 
 up quietly into her teacher's eyes. " I believe 1 
 love Him ; I know I love Him. But that is so 
 little ; how can I show it ? " 
 
 A sound as of a sob outside the door arrested 
 
70 • Anna Maylie, 
 
 them. Miss Clemmer hastily crossed the floor, 
 but she saw no one. She went down the pas- 
 sage, but there was no one to be seen. She 
 came back to the window and sat down. As she 
 held Anna's hand in hers, and tried to pray for 
 wisdom in her hour of rejoicing, she became con- 
 scious of a swift figure passing under the trees 
 skirting the walk, and afterwards she felt sure 
 that she saw, in the faint starlight, the gate open 
 and close. Something about the form, its swift 
 grace perhaps, aroused her suspicions, but she 
 preferred not to speak of them. She turned back 
 to Anna. But the girl had withdrawn into her- 
 self, and Miss Clemmer did not think it best to 
 urge her confidence ; she knCw the heart when 
 full would overflow. 
 
 Looking at her watch, she said, " It is nine, I 
 see ; and I suppose I must send you back to your 
 mother. I shall want you again soon. I would 
 like to think over m}^ plans for a few days. I 
 am not quite sure but I shall adopt yours ; and 
 
The Prayer Meeting, 71 
 
 then 1 will see you. I will talk to Johnson 
 about work among the strawberries. I do not see 
 why a girl may not properly enough trim rose - 
 bushes, and cut off strawberry runners. I will 
 soon come round and see you, Anna." 
 
 She would not withhold any brightness from 
 Anna's life ; she told her, that she might have it 
 for her hope and cheer. She went down with 
 her to the garden gate, and as she bade her good 
 night, she said, " Do not be concerned about the 
 way to show it ; only be sure you love Jesus. 
 You can not then avoid showing it. For our re- 
 ligion, Anna, is life ; in one sense it is like the 
 life of the beautiful tree beneath which you stand ; 
 if it is alive, it will put forth leaves, and in due 
 time, flowers and fruit. You can not hide the 
 * Life of God in the soul of man.' " 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 SEAECHmG FOR A CROSS. 
 
 Saturday brought many sad and 
 weary reflections to Miss Clemmer. 
 Pondering over the lesson for to - mor- 
 l\ i row, her thoughts would constantly 
 revert to the fact that only one of her girls came 
 to her prayer meeting. They had had but one 
 opportunity, it is true. Still, she felt strangely 
 hopeless of them all. And she went to her class, 
 the next day, in the same discouraged mood, and 
 still undecided what she would say to them 
 
Searching for a Oi'oss, 73 
 
 Her young ladies were all in their places, but 
 she felt there was a change. As she took her 
 seat, she missed that indescribable, pleasant, 
 little stir among them, the smile of wordless 
 greeting, and the old look of trust and affection. 
 To - day their very quietness gave her the feeling 
 that between them and her had arisen a 2:rowin2: 
 distance. Could it be possible that, in her solici- 
 tude for them, she had raised a barrier between 
 herself and her girls ? Had she made a mistake ? 
 Was it possible for her Heavenly Father to allow 
 any service performed for Him in such singleness 
 and sorrow of heart to become a mistake ? 
 
 With a fervent prayer to be taught of God 
 what to do, and His way of accomplishing it, she 
 put her new troubles aside, and took up the les- 
 son for the day with as much of the old freedom 
 as she could command. But a new disquiet 
 seized upon her. Anna Maylie had not yet 
 come. One anxious thought after another passed 
 through her mind, and she felt how mechanically 
 
74 Anna May lie, 
 
 she was going on with the lesson. Could the 
 child also have made a mistake? Could feeling, 
 excitement, or sympathy perhaps, have misled 
 her? and, conscious of her mistake, was she now 
 shrinking from meeting her teacher? These 
 thoughts too Miss Clemmer tried to put aside. 
 She reasoned firmly with herself, that never yet 
 had her faith been fed with Dead Sea apples. 
 She remembered how, all the morning while pre- 
 paring for church, and all Saturday, she had felt a 
 peaceful assurance respecting Anna, — that the 
 Good Shepherd had been seeking her ; that the 
 Master had called her into His service. 
 
 She at last became satisfied that this was a day 
 of temptations, a day through which she was 
 called to live by faith, and not by sight. She 
 experienced a great relief when she at last saw 
 Anna coming up the aisle, with the same pleasant 
 look of peace resting on her bright face. She 
 felt sudden contrition too. She bowed her head 
 in humility as she remembered that, all this 
 
Searching for a Cross, 75 
 
 while, she had been murmuring, because she had 
 not received still greater reward for her one small 
 service. " Should I have asked my entire class 
 for my one prayer meeting ? " she thought in her 
 self-reproach. 
 
 And then, as if to strengthen her, a voice 
 sounded sweetly in her ear : 
 
 " For as the rain cometh down, and the snow 
 from heaven, and return eth not thither, but wa- 
 tereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and 
 bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and 
 bread to the eater : 
 
 " So shall my word be that goeth forth out of 
 my mouth ; it shall not return unto me void, but 
 it shall accomplish that which I please, and it 
 shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it." 
 
 As the hour of school drew to its close, she 
 pondered whether she ought not to invite Anna 
 home with her for an hour's conversation. She 
 might strengthen her perhaps, and perhaps ad- 
 vise her. But she felt intuitively that it was 
 
76 Anna Maylie, 
 
 better to leave Anna to seek her. " If she needs 
 me, she will some. I am fearful of confusing 
 her ; her ways are not my ways." She could not, 
 however, resist the impulse to take the girl's 
 hand in hers as they sang for the last time. 
 Anna felt the closer sympathy, the dearer tie. 
 As they were dismissed, she turned, and mur- 
 mured again the one only sentence she seemed, 
 as yet, able to utter. "I know I love Jesus. I 
 know I do. Miss Clemmer." 
 
 Her gentle, beaming look made light in a dark 
 place, and though Anna herself had gone, the 
 look still strengthened Miss Clemmer, as she 
 gently but firmly detained the rest. " The prayer 
 meeting for my class will be held regularly every 
 Friday night in my room. If they do not come, 
 I may trust, may I not, that my girls do not for- 
 get it?" 
 
 She tried to scan each countenance. Clara 
 and Satie were studiously indifferent. Fanny 
 Rowland had quite averted her face. Neither 
 
Searching for a Cross. 77 
 
 would Kachel meet that sorrowful, searching blue 
 eye ; but the workings of her dark, haughty face 
 revealed what she could not entirely hide, — a 
 struggle going on in the heart beneath. Miss 
 Clemmer saw it all, and she remembered now 
 that she had noticed that same look of hopeless- 
 ness upon Kachel's face before, during the past 
 year. She continued, still detaining them, — 
 " Already one of those so dear to me has found 
 the pearl of great price. Girls, Anna knows 
 that she loves Jesus ! " 
 
 She turned and let them pass out. One by 
 one they went by her, and made no sign. In- 
 stead, they looked willful, and hardened too, she 
 thought. Her girls, who always had had some 
 sweet word for her before, — for Anna May lie 
 had not been alone in her loving admiration for 
 her teacher. At first, she thought that Eachel 
 half intended to pause and speak to her, but the 
 irresolution and the hope were alike momentary. 
 
 " My girls have hardened their hearts against 
 
78 Anna Maylie, 
 
 me ! " she said, so sadly, again and again that 
 afternoon. But the promise of the morning re- 
 peated to her again and again its lesson of faith, 
 and through it all she found herself at last be- 
 lieving that merely human words like hers would 
 have never alarmed them so. She went forth 
 cherishing a trembling faith that the Holy Spirit 
 was hovering near her work. 
 
 Friday night came round again, and it brought 
 Anna Maylie to her teacher's prayer meeting, 
 but brought not one of the rest. Still, doubt not 
 that that prayer meeting accomplished " the work 
 whereto it was sent." For that night a great 
 blessing of faith was let down upon the teacher's 
 tired heart, and though her girls indeed were not 
 there, she felt, for the first time, quietly secure 
 as to the final result of her work ; and she felt 
 too that it was by no means necessary that her 
 girls should, first of all, come to her prayer 
 meeting. 
 
Searching for a Cross. 79 
 
 A strange excitement seemed to have posses- 
 sion of Anna that night as she knelt by her teach- 
 er's side. And as she drew near the close of her 
 own petition, Miss Clemmer herself grew aware 
 that the child was trembling. As Miss Clemmer 
 ceased, Anna lifted her voice in a swift utterance, 
 — a swift, broken utterance which told its own 
 tale to the teacher of the struo^ole which Anna 
 had gone through over the performance of this 
 duty. And it was a strange prayer too, — the 
 prayer of a strong, simple nature bent upon its 
 one purpose. It was not a prayer for more love; 
 it came from a heart full to the brim of love ; but 
 the burden of its crying was, " Lord, what wilt 
 thou have me to do ? " 
 
 " Lord, why hast thou bestowed upon her the 
 worker's zeal, and withheld the worker's talent?" 
 Miss Clemmer found herself, almost unconscious- 
 ly, questioning as the girl's intensity weighed 
 down upon her. 
 
 From the depths of her own humility came the 
 
80 Anna Maylie, 
 
 reproving answer : " thou of little faith ! 
 Was it not so from the beginning? Hath not 
 God chosen the weak things of the world to con- 
 found the things which are mighty ? The Master 
 may even choose that she, and not you, shall ac- 
 complish the precious work which you have 
 planned." 
 
 As the evening wore to its close, and they lin- 
 gered at the melodeon. Miss Clemmer said, " I 
 have said very little to you, Anna, but I think 
 you must know what it is to me that you have 
 entered the new life. I have not questioned 
 you, because 1 can not make it seem to myself 
 that it is necessary. It seems to me that youi 
 measure of faith and love is running over, my 
 happy Anna. I also know that you love Jesus. 
 If you needed my counsel it would be different." 
 
 Anna smiled back her teacher's look, but then 
 her brow clouded, and she laid aside her bonnet 
 again, and sat dowm. "I am your happy Anna," 
 she said. "But yet I have my troubles. And 
 
Searching for a Cross, 81 
 
 to me they are great troubles, thougli they may 
 not seem much to one like you." 
 
 " Tell me about them, Anna. I should be glad 
 to have you." 
 
 Anna did not hesitate. "You told me that if 
 I loved Jesus I could show it ; — you said there 
 would be ways." 
 
 " And you do not find it so ? " 
 
 " Not yet. I have found nothing that I am 
 satisfied to call a way. Do you think that just to 
 be happy is enough ? to be always just so pleas- 
 ant and even - tempered is anything ? It is so 
 very easy, now, never to be vexed. Why, Miss 
 Clemmer, I am almost frightened sometimes be- 
 cause I find no cross anywhere in my religion I " 
 
 " So you find no crosses, Anna? " 
 
 "No — that is — yes. Miss Clemmer, it was 
 hard to pray here to - night, but in such a very 
 few moments after I would, and did, there was 
 no more strusfsjle at all about it. But what I 
 meant is, that I am almost unhappy because 1 
 
82 Anna Maylie. 
 
 can find no work to do for Him ; no hard {hing 
 to do that would show that I love him." 
 
 Crosses had been plenty for Miss Clemmer. 
 Should she search to find them for those willing 
 shoulders? She conscientiously went over the 
 girl's duties so far as she could know them, and 
 searched to see if that strangely - coveted cross 
 was not among them. " Of course you read your 
 Bible?" she said. "You read it as you never 
 did before, praying for light to read it by; you 
 could not neglect to pray and still be so happy ; 
 you restrain selfishness? — why, Anna, I think 
 you can not avoid the confession of your Saviour ; 
 avoid showing that you love him in a thousand 
 ways." 
 
 Anna shook her head sadly over Miss Clem- 
 mer's help. " All this has been so easy." 
 
 " You want some distinct, positive work to do, 
 perhaps. Is that it?" 
 
 " That is it. Eeal work — hard work." 
 
 "Does it not lie at your feet, dear? There are 
 
Searching for a Cross, 83 
 
 those little brothers. Are they in the true way ? " 
 Anna made no answer now. There was cer- 
 tainly work. Miss Clemmer enlarged not upon 
 her suggestions. She felt it was better to allow 
 one like Anna to find her own way to do her own 
 work. Anna sat there a long time silent, but as 
 she rose to go, and said good night, she added, 
 " It's Jacky and Jim I do suppose. I am afraid 
 that it was pleasant hard work that I wanted, aft- 
 er all." 
 
 As Miss Clemmer closed the door, she sighed 
 over this first cloud upon Anna's happy face. 
 She knew that she had found one of the most 
 heavy of the Christian's crosses, — the coming 
 down of the soul from the heavenly hights to do 
 a commonplace duty. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 ber life. 
 
 RACHEL. 
 
 HAD many opportunities of ob- 
 serving Miss Clemmer, during the years 
 I lived in Morristown, and 1 became 
 deeply impressed with the harmony of 
 She was placed in the very highest 
 circle of society, and I, like many others, had 
 always considered this the most difficult place of 
 all for a Christian to be a consistent Christian. 
 But Miss Clemmer moved in it without casting a 
 single reproach upon the cause of Christ. She 
 was a lovely example of obedience to the injunc- 
 tion, to be in the world but not of it. She shared 
 
Rachel. 85 
 
 in many of its unobjectionable pleasures ; she had 
 a pleasant, reasonable interest in the fashions, 
 and in new books, and pictures, and in the pub- 
 lic events around her. She received and paid 
 calls, and I am sure was none the less a sincere 
 Christian because she carried a silver card - case, 
 and chose that her velvets should be royal and Jaer 
 laces real. 
 
 I saw all this, but 1 observed at the same 
 time, — and no one could fail to see it, — that she 
 shone in society with a light not of this world. 
 Although it was always unobtrusively, she was 
 ever busy about her Master's work. Her culti- 
 vated and Christian taste controlled a large circle 
 in the selection of books, the choice of lectures 
 and amusements and buying of music, and in the 
 matter of social entertainments. And I can not 
 tell you how many reputations she has saved, how 
 many giddy girls she has held back from dan- 
 gerous paths, how much boldness she checked, 
 how many scandals she quietly quenched, and 
 
86 Anna May lie. 
 
 how she raised the standard of womanly character 
 in the minds of all those with whom she was sur- 
 rounded. I think that none in the circle of her 
 acquaintance, — not even the most worldly wom- 
 an or the boldest skeptic, — ever sneered at Miss 
 Clemmer's religion. 
 
 So I trust you will not fear that the influence 
 of her little Friday prayer meeting had faded 
 away from her mind, when I tell you that I saw 
 her on Saturday, in the Clemmer carriage, paying 
 a long list of fashionable calls. During the after- 
 noon, I had seen it waiting, here and there, in 
 several streets, and just as I was going home, I 
 saw it glittering across the Common and pausing 
 in front of Tom Maylie's little, old, brown 
 house. 
 
 Anna came out to the gate just a little awed by 
 the showy equipage ; but the primrose - gloved 
 fingers clasped the brown hand with a cordiality 
 as earnest as Anna's own. "I can not stop, 
 Anna, but Johnson says the roses must be cut on 
 
Eachel. 87 
 
 Monday for the rose water, and the housekeeper 
 wishes to make the strawberry preserves next 
 week also ; so if you still retain your fancy for 
 out- of- door life, we can keep you busy all the 
 week. And I must not forget to add, that John- 
 son has taken quite a fancy to you. And the 
 wages too, — I shall pay you fifty cents per day, 
 if that will be satisfactory to yourself and to your 
 mother." 
 
 "Fifty cents — so much? — that will be five 
 cents — only five cents ! " 
 
 " Only five cents ? " repeated Miss Clemmer, 
 inquiringly. 
 
 Anna colored. " One - tenth, I meant." 
 
 " One - tenth ? I do not quite comprehend 
 you, Anna." 
 
 She hesitated a little, and then answered, 
 quietly : 
 
 " The Bible system of giving is what I meant. 
 I always thought I should like to give in that old 
 way, Miss Clemmer. I hope I do n't seem pre- 
 
88 Anna Maylie, 
 
 sumptuous in speaking so, Miss Clemmer ; but I 
 like Bible ways. Only ^ye cents is such a very 
 small sum, — such a very small sum to give. I 
 do n't know what to do about it, after all." 
 
 Miss Clemmer regarded the girl in silence. 
 She was looking far away, and seemed so anx- 
 ious, and so earnest. She remembered what the 
 girl's own needs must be and the needs of the 
 family. She said to herself, " I should not bear 
 comparison at all with this little cottage Chris- 
 tian. I wonder, too, where her thoroughness will 
 lead her." 
 
 Finally she spoke : " You may be contented, 
 Anna. Be sure that when God wishes you to 
 give more than five cents for His cause, he wil) 
 at the same time place more than fifty cents in 
 your hands to use." 
 
 She bade her good- bye, and was driven away. 
 
 Anna stood by the gate, absently watching the 
 silver gleam of carriage and harness until all was 
 out of sight. She was evidently busy with some 
 
RacheL 89 
 
 train of reasoning ; for slie said aloud at last, 
 " Would it be right, then, to rest contented with 
 fifty cents, since five cents is all I owe of it to the 
 Lord? She could not have meant anything like 
 that. Oh, I never cared for money as I do 
 now. " 
 
 Miss Clemmer rode home pondering upon 
 Anna May lie's strange thoroughness, and feeling 
 what a responsible position it was to stand in the 
 place of guide to such a strong nature, — a nature 
 not to be led and guided after all, she saw, but 
 one that needed help, judicious help and sympa- 
 thy. 
 
 As she left the carriage and entered the house, 
 the housekeeper met her in the hall and said, 
 " There he's a young lady in the large drawing - 
 room. Miss Clemmer. She called when you was 
 out, and I told her, and told her as Miss Gertie 
 too was away at the picnic, but she said as she 
 would wait until you came ; and she be's in there 
 now." 
 
90 Anna Maylie. 
 
 Miss Clemmer turned back and entered the 
 drawing - room. In the shadows of the heavy 
 curtains she did not at first recognize her visitor, 
 but after a moment she saw that it was one of her 
 class, — Rachel Mansfield. She greeted her 
 warmly : " It is so long since you were here, 
 Rachel." 
 
 But Miss Clemmer speedily saw that some es- 
 pecial errand had brought her ; for upon all topics 
 the conversation soon flagged. Rachel, so good 
 a talker, had only monosyllables for "Beulah," 
 for the last volume of Robertson's sermons, for 
 Archbishop Manning's Apostacy, for " Star 
 Papers," for the coming strawberry festival, for 
 Esquire Rowland's approaching departure for 
 Europe ; — only monosyllables, or some brief re- 
 mark. However, she was easily prevailed upon 
 to stay to tea with Miss Clemmer ; but as they 
 entered the hall on their way back, she laid her 
 hand on Miss Clemmer's arm. "Not back there, 
 Miss Clemmer. Won't you take me to your own 
 
Rachel, 91 
 
 room, — the little prayer meeting room ? I must 
 see you quite alone." 
 
 Miss Clemmer led the way thither, and as they 
 entered the dimly -lighted apartment, the haughty 
 girl turned and buried her face on her teacher's 
 shoulder. "I am so wretched, — so wicked and 
 wretched," she sobbed ; " and if you do n't help 
 me I shall perish now ; — there must be an end 
 soon, I know." 
 
 " Why, Rachel ! " and Miss Clemmer led her 
 to the sofa and sat down by her. " What has 
 made you wretched ? You know that I will help 
 you if I can ; but I think — it is not my help that 
 you need, is it, Rachel?" 
 
 "Yes, yours. You can pray. You must 
 pray, for you have prayed for me, Miss Clemmer, 
 until I am utterly miserable, and you must not 
 leave me now. Four years I know you have 
 been praying for me, and every year I have grown 
 Btiil more wretched." 
 
 The girl was rocking to and fro, and there waa 
 
92 Anna Maylie. 
 
 no color in her face, save the blackness of her 
 eyes and the pallor of her cheeks. " I think 1 
 am lost, though," she added, drearily. 
 
 Miss Clemmer spoke very gently to her. " No, 
 Rachel. If that were so, I can not think you 
 would feel such concern." 
 
 " Yes I should ; for you know nothing of how 
 I have grieved away the Spirit, — the Holy Spirit 
 which I know has striven with me. Why, I 
 have just fought not to come to your prayer 
 meetings ! I came one evening. Miss Clemmer, 
 but I tore myself away and went back. I walked 
 my room all night that night. And I meant not 
 to come to you at all ! Yet I am here, and if 
 you can help me, you may; — if you could, I 
 suppose I should be glad. But, Miss Clemmer, 
 I am so wicked that I do n't even know that I 
 want to be a Christian ! I doubt if I care for 
 more than in some way to be relieved of my 
 wretchedness. Is not that feeling the next step 
 to being lost?" 
 
EacheL 93 
 
 **It must indeed be very terrible to feel, iny 
 dear Racliel. Yet I do n^t think you really do 
 feel so. I think, instead, that so much loss of 
 sleep has disturbed your mental balance. I do 
 not doubt your wretchedness of soul, my poor, 
 sin - sick child ; still, a part of this utter hope- 
 lessness about yourself comes of physical pros- 
 tration , — hush — do n't try to talk any more 
 now. Let me talk to you, and your answers 
 need be only ^yes' and ^no.' Try to think 
 now of what I ask you. Is not your very strong- 
 est feeling an utter abhorrence of yourself? " 
 
 The girl sprang up from Miss Clemmer's sooth- 
 ing hand. " Abhor myself ? I hate myself ! I 
 have no respect for myself left ! For four years 
 I have been too proud — I actually refused — to 
 bend my knee to my Maker, to my Creator ! I, 
 the poor child of a day ! I have repeatedly and 
 willfully turned my back upon my Saviour, — the 
 Prince of Life who died for me ! Yes, I know it 
 all. He died for me. I have shrunk from 
 
94 Anna Maylie. 
 
 naming His name ! I have trampled upon all 
 His kindness ! And I have avoided my best 
 friends because they loved Him ; and I have 
 walked boldly with His enemies ! Oh, do you 
 not see? — I have done it all so willfully, so de- 
 fiantly ! I believe I have sometimes rejoiced in 
 my victories when I have broken away from His 
 Holy Spirit and gone my own ways ! " 
 
 Miss Clemmer sat there, delicate, slender, 
 white, and trembling before this dark, impetu- 
 ous girl, as she poured forth this torrent of words, 
 turning her eyes imperiously upon her at the 
 close of each sentence as if she would ask, " What 
 can you, or your prayers, do for one like me?" 
 Yet when Eachel sank back exhausted in her seat, 
 she quietly resumed, " I can see why you hate 
 yourself, as you say. It is for persisting in sin- 
 ning and staying away when you long so for the 
 peace and the purity of the Christian life. You 
 are fighting so hard all the while not to be a 
 Christian, Kachel, you must see that the Holy 
 
Rachel. 95 
 
 Spirit has not deserted jou, or the struggle would 
 be over. Why, Rachel, I truly think you have 
 only to give up and let your heart go its own 
 way ! I truly think that, so thoroughly do you 
 hate your own sinfulness, you have only to turn 
 and stretch out your hand toward the Saviour, 
 and you would be a Christian ! I can see that 
 you are holding yourself away only by a most 
 terrible exercise of your will. I am certain, from 
 the very struggle, that Jesus is extending forgive- 
 ness to you still. How can you hold out ? How 
 can you refuse this faithful love, my poor 
 Rachel?" 
 
 " I can not give up," she answered, sadly. " I 
 am powerless to do that." 
 
 " Can you not confess that you want to be a 
 Christian? You do, do you not?" 
 
 " I really, really do not know," said the girl, 
 piteously. 
 
 " My poor Rachel ! Yet I feel certain that 
 you do. Else why did you come to me ? If you 
 
96 Anna Maylie, 
 
 had been contented to remain a sinner, you would 
 not have come. Do you not see, Eachel?" 
 
 " I was so wretched I could not stay at home,'* 
 Rachel answered. She rose as she spoke, and 
 looked around her so wearily that Miss Clemmer's 
 eyes filled with tears. " I thought there might 
 be ease found with you, — but it is just the same. 
 No, Miss Clemmer, I will not stay any longer 
 to - night ; but when I am gone you may pray 
 for me. I need it, God knows ! " 
 
 But at the door she came back. " Anna 
 Maylie — did you tell us that Anna Maylie — 
 that she" — 
 
 " Yes, Eachel. Anna has found peace." 
 
 " How was it ? " she asked, hesitatingly. 
 
 " Simply by loving Jesus. She forgot herself, 
 Rachel." 
 
 After a pause she inquired, " Does she live at 
 home ? " and bidding Miss Clemmer good night, 
 she was gone. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE STORY OF JOSEPH. 
 
 NNA rose on Saturday morning, 
 after the last prayer meeting, feeling 
 just as decided and earnest to do 
 something about Jacky and Jim as 
 she did when she left Miss Clemmer the night 
 before. From the very first, her Christianity 
 was a working Christianity, and it had from the 
 very first revealed itself by work. She had been 
 utterly faithful in her humble, little field. At 
 home, she had taken more steps than ever to 
 make the house attractive. She had read in 
 
98 Anna Maylie, 
 
 Sunday - school books of girls who had made a 
 home as shabby as hers so pleasant a place that 
 the fathers and brothers were won to stay by 
 their own fireside. But she could n't see that her 
 nicely - ironed, white table - cloths, and the pitch- 
 er of roses which she placed among the plates of 
 potatoes and bread, had, as yet, any effect upon 
 her father and brothers. So soon as the meals 
 were over, they were off and away, and they 
 came home as boisterous as ever. It was with 
 the greatest difficulty that she ever kept Jacky 
 and Jim within reach of her voice for five min- 
 utes. But this morning, by extra efforts and 
 much maneuvering, she succeeded in retaining 
 them until her mother was gone, and then she 
 left the dishes, and all the work standing, and 
 sat down to tell them the story she had promised. 
 In the most entertaining style which she could 
 command, she commenced the story of Joseph 
 and liis brethren, prefacing it with the informa- 
 tion that the same Book held many other such 
 
The Story of Joseph. 99 
 
 nice stories, and if they should like this one, she 
 would sit down every morning and tell them 
 one. 
 
 But our little home missionary encountered 
 troubles which she had never dreamed of. They 
 might have listened to Dr. Mason, or to Miss 
 Clemmer, in respectful silence ; but with her they 
 felt at liberty to interrupt at any time, and it was 
 perfectly startling to Anna to hear their remarks^ 
 and to witness the transformation which the beau- 
 tiful Oriental incidents suffered upon passing 
 through the imaginations of these young Amer- 
 ican street - boys. And Jacky, as being the elder 
 brother, seemed to feel that it devolved upon him 
 to bring all the foreign features of the story down 
 to little Jim's comprehension. For instance, the 
 Eastern system of feeding flocks and herds waa 
 altogether too vast for little Jim's mind, and as 
 Anna explained it to him, Jacky proceeded to il- 
 lustrate : 
 
 '* I see how 't was, and I '11 tell you, Jim, — 
 
100 Anna May lie. 
 
 but it was a jolly go, — 't would n't go down now- 
 a-days, no how ! See here now, Jim, 'twas like 
 this : S 'posin' now Mr. Clark upon the hill 
 kept thousands and thousands of sheep, and 
 they 'd eat off his pastures spic and span, nipped 
 every blade clean into the ground, and then he 
 should send Hank and Charlie on with 'em right 
 onto Hartwell's farm, and they 'd stay there till 
 they 'd eat everything there, and then they 'd be 
 up and off onto old Meyrick, or Green, and so 
 on, — nobody knows where." 
 
 As well as she could, Anna explained to them 
 that the land in those young years of the world 
 was not fenced or owned as it is now, and that 
 there were only a few great boundaries, such as 
 rivers, or ranges of mountains, for the few tribes 
 and families, and that thousands and thousands 
 of acres, — whole counties, and states, — would 
 belong to one family and it branches. She soon 
 found that her efforts at explanation helped her 
 to a very vivid realization of it all herself. 
 
The Story of Joseph. 101 
 
 The boys were quite taken with the I'ree life of 
 those young Jewish shepherds, — a dozen or so of 
 boys away from home, out from under their 
 father's eyes for weeks and weeks together. 
 
 "Kee-e Jim! Wouldn't we hke that? 
 Would n't it be prime, though? " 
 
 Anna laughed with them, but felt herself called 
 upon to inform them of what age those " boys" 
 of Jacob's probably were at that time, — boys of 
 twenty - eight and thirty perhaps, — like the men 
 who owned the corner grocery, Grey son and 
 Hall, or grave Mr. Lee, the cashier at Mr. Clem- 
 mer's bank. This idea of " boy" was rather over- 
 whelming to Jacky and Jim, and they both pre- 
 served a respectful silence, until Anna came to 
 the description of letting Joseph down into the 
 
 pit. 
 
 They asked question upon question concerning 
 <-he pit, and little Jim was very much disgusted 
 with Anna because she was not certain whether 
 the pit was a dry cistern dug to catch rain water 
 
102 Anna Maylie, 
 
 in the rainy season for the flocks and herds, or 
 whether it was a great hole excavated for the pur- 
 pose of trapping lions. He inclined to the latter 
 opinion, because he thought it would be such 
 fun to lay the limbs of trees across, and put the 
 dead lamb on, and then run and hide, and watch 
 to see the lion steal up and pounce upon the lamb, 
 and then break through and fall in. And the 
 possibility of Joseph's being in the pit at the 
 same time the lion fell in, seemed to possess a 
 strange fascination for Jacky, and to incline him 
 to Jim's view of the matter. 
 
 At this point, listening to their animated dis- 
 cussions and suggestions, Anna felt quite unde- 
 cided as to whether her Bible story was having a 
 good or bad influence upon her little listeners. 
 
 They dwelt a long time upon Joseph in the 
 pit ; and Jacky lingered so long to compute the 
 probable tallness of a boy of seventeen, and he 
 rendered it so probable that Rex Palmer, or even 
 himself, coiilJ have scrambled up the sides, and 
 
The Story of Joseph, 103 
 
 been off and away, that Anna felt not only 
 obliged to darken and deepen the pit, and to 
 state that Joseph was probably bound before he 
 was put in, but also to suppose that his brothers 
 remained quite near, and that he was in much 
 greater terror of them than he was of the pit, 
 because they had at first intended to actually kill 
 him ; and that he must have felt much safer in 
 the pit than with them. 
 
 Finally, to entice them away, she drew a vivid 
 picture of the Midianites and their camels ; but 
 she could not succeed in interesting them until 
 she referred them to the camel they saw when 
 they visited the caravan, a year or two before. 
 Jacky then remembered the giraffe^ perfectly well, 
 and Jim had retained a vivid remembrance of the 
 elephant ; but the camel seemed to have made no 
 impression at all upon their minds ; and they 
 remembered so many other things so much bet- 
 ter, and in such rapid succession, — the monkeys, 
 and Tom Thumb in his car, and the baby ele- 
 
104 Anna May lie, 
 
 phant, and Mr. Nellis, — " the man without any 
 arms, you know, Sis," — that Sis repented very 
 much having referred to the camel of the caravan 
 at all. Especially was it so when little Jim per- 
 sisted to the last in loading the Midianites upon 
 Zebras, and Jacky spoke of them as the peddlers 
 and the camelopards. 
 
 But when it came upon them that Joseph was 
 sold, their interest w^as renewed. "My, Sis! 
 — you do n't mean they could sell little Joseph ! " 
 
 "Yes, they did, — the cruel brothers, — the 
 wicked brothers ! " 
 
 " D' you know how much they got ? " 
 
 " Twenty pieces of silver." 
 
 " Kee-e ! that was something now. Was they 
 quarters, or only dimes, d'you know? " 
 
 There was something so perfectly diabolical in 
 the face of the child as he asked this question, 
 that Anna felt much more inclined to " cuff his 
 ears" than to answer him. Still, as well as she 
 could, she explained to them that the probable 
 
The Story of Joseph. 105 
 
 value of a "piece of silver" was about fifty 
 cents. 
 
 " So they got twenty half- dollar pieces, — 
 ten dollars ? D' you hear that, Jim ? I' d sell 
 you for that, any day ! " 
 
 Sadly out of patience, Anna dismissed her 
 young street Arabs, feeling that she liad done 
 them just no good at all. She rose with a help- 
 less consciousness that their minds were quicker 
 and stronger than hers, and that she could never 
 teach them. They were so very different from 
 the bad boys of books, — not vicious, not cruel, 
 — but so free and lawless. They had "real- 
 ized" and Americanized her simple Bible story 
 until she was actually frightened from her task. 
 She felt that it would have been far more easy to 
 deal with profanity, or theft, or 'lying, than to 
 have thus encountered the free - thinking irrever- 
 ence of those sharp little street- corner urchins. 
 
CHAPTER Vni. 
 
 THE NEW TWILIGHT. 
 
 HAVE spoken somewhere before 
 of Anna Maylie's loveliness when twi- 
 light came. She was almost always, at 
 that hour, the only occupant of the 
 houee ; the great Common, noisy an hour before 
 with base ball, quoits, and other uproarious 
 games, was now deserted and joined its lonesome- 
 ness to the gray desolation of their own waste 
 land with its broken fences ; for the old brown 
 house stood upon a disgraced remnant of the 
 
The New TwilighL 107 
 
 countless acres which had been the great Maylle 
 estate in the days when her grandfather, old 
 Colonel Maylie, was one of the magnates of the 
 county. 
 
 Anna never felt that they could afford a light 
 until her mother came home, and the candle was 
 needed for their work ; so she usually sat in the 
 gathering darkness, by the window, or in the 
 door, or went down and stood by the gate. Thus 
 it happened, naturally enough, that twilight had 
 been the hour, all her life, for growing bitter 
 over her lot. Anna Maylie certainly had a 
 sunny - looking face. Her clear eyes, and 
 bright braided hair, and her plumpness, and her 
 freshness, gave one a strong impression of cheer- 
 fulness ; but I have found that bitter thoughts 
 and a general discontent lurk beneath rosy 
 cheeks and bright eyes quite as often as where I 
 used to associate them when, I was a child, with 
 a wrinkled brow and a pale face. And even now 
 thc4igh Anna, as she joyfully believed, had be- 
 
108 Anna Maylie, 
 
 come a Christian, and all her thoughts and re- 
 flections had become very different from what 
 they once were, she often felt something which 
 was akin to the old depression. Many young 
 Christians would have devoted that hour to 
 prayer, and perhaps it would have been better for 
 Anna ; but it was not quite like her to do that ; 
 for something like prayer, — a perpetual thanks 
 giving that she had become a lamb of the fold, a 
 perpetual aspiration for help and wisdom, — was 
 constantly arising from her heart like perfume 
 from a flower. A blind wish that she could bet 
 ter her lot, and the hopelessness of that wish, to- 
 gether with her daily mortifications, used to be 
 the burden of her bitter loneliness. But now, 
 since the divine fiat, " Let there be light," had 
 gone forth, Anna's nature was full of tumult. 
 All her latent energies were moving dimly. The 
 creative force, the breath of Life, which was 
 brooding over the depths of her soul, was the 
 Love of Jesus ; and the center of all her longings 
 
The Nqw Twilight. 109 
 
 was to Work for Jesus. This feeling grew so 
 strong that it really began to unsettle her first 
 joyous happiness. She felt sometimes like a mis- 
 sionary without any field, — nothing but a home, 
 and for that field she felt a hopeless incapacity al- 
 most amounting to a positive disinclination. Her 
 morning's experience with Jacky and Jim had 
 been so discouraging ! If the boys had been 
 positively bad, if they had had glaring wicked- 
 ness, she could have encountered them ; she 
 would have known much better how to talk. 
 But how to combat their street -smartness, how 
 to fill them with the proper awe for God's word, 
 was much more difficult. If she could only have 
 quelled their roguish pranks, it would have been 
 a OTeat comfort to her to talk to them to - night. 
 But they were both off, hatless, shoeless, jacket- 
 less, down town, gathered under some street 
 lamp with a dozen of their young comrades, play- 
 ing " toss up" for an orange or an apple. 
 
 How well she could tell just where each mem- 
 
110 Anna Maylie» 
 
 ber of the family was at this hour, and what they 
 were doing ! Her mother was probably just fin- 
 ishing up the day's washing and ironing, or 
 house - cleaning at Squire Rowland's and, per- 
 haps, was just starting home with the hard- 
 earned dollar which must stretch to buy the 
 Saturday nights groceries and vegetables. She 
 could see her coming so plainly, — a little bent, — 
 with such a slow, painful, tired step, — poor, 
 poor tired mother ! Her father — he was down 
 at the corner saloon, which was not far from the 
 Common, the chief source of its profits, spending 
 his dollar if he had one ; if he had n't one he was 
 at the saloon just the same ; for his singing 
 brought customers enough to Mallory to more 
 than pay for all the liquor he would drink. Old 
 Colonel Maylie had given his son a thorough ed- 
 ucation, a fine musical education especially, as 
 his tastes seemed to lean that way ; and even now 
 it was as good as any concert to hear him sing, — 
 60 it was said, though Anna had never heard 
 
The New Twilight. Ill 
 
 him ; — as good as any concert to hear poor Tom 
 May lie sing the songs of twenty years ago ; and 
 floating out, rich and clear, upon the evening 
 streets, they beguiled many a well - dressed gen- 
 tleman down the narrow steps who never else 
 would have entered Mallory's saloon. 
 
 Head and heart both ached with the troubles 
 of home, until she felt that, for to - night at least, 
 she could do no more than leave them all in 
 God's hands. She went out, down to the gate, 
 and stood gazing around at the small, miserable 
 houses which skirted the Common on all its four 
 sides, each with its tiny spark of candle light. 
 
 '* Here, too, is work," sighed Anna. " Is it 
 work for me, I wonder? Would Miss Clemmer 
 point me to this ? For I do n't believe there is a 
 Christian, or a person, who cares for their soul, 
 within reach of my voice, if I should call out 
 ever so loudly. I know there is nobody in these 
 houses who has been inside of a church, or a 
 prayer meeting, for four years ! I do feel as if I 
 
112 Anna May lie, 
 
 might have managed to have at least mother" — 
 
 "Hello, Anna !" interrupted a boy who came 
 along whistling, his hands in his pockets and a 
 ragged straw hat on his head. 
 
 "Hello, Eex ! she answered. 
 
 He paused by the gate, and looked on to the 
 next house, the one on the corner. "No one at 
 home, I see. I wish Lute would ever stay at 
 home and get supper for a fellow \ " 
 
 "You at work, somewhere, Rex?" 
 
 "No— why?" 
 
 " Nothing ; only I dare say Lute do n't think it 
 so necessary to get supper if there's nobody at 
 work. You ought to be doing something, Rex ? " 
 
 "Me? Oh, I'm no good." 
 
 " Then you ought to be ashamed ! " 
 
 "Well, what of it, and who cares? Supposing 
 I am ashamed — what then ? " 
 
 " But of course you ai'n't ashamed. If you 
 was, you 'd do different. Here you are, eighteen 
 years old, Rex Palmer, and if Lute did n t take 
 
The New Twilight. 113 
 
 in sewing all the while, where would your living 
 come from ? I just wish I had your strength ! 
 What are you going to do, any way, Hex? You '11 
 be twenty -one soon. I heard Johnson say 
 that, when he was twenty - one, he had earned 
 enough to come to America and had a hundred 
 dollars besides. What are you going to do, 
 Eex?" 
 
 "Oh, Id' know ! Stay on in the old house, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " 'T would be better for you, Eex Palmer, if 
 the old house should burn down ! " 
 
 "Could n't get anything to do if I wanted to," 
 Eex said, sulkily. "I've hung 'round the stores 
 and the depots, and there ain't a job offered me 
 once a month." 
 
 "Offered you!" repeated Anna, contemptu- 
 ously. "Why do n't you ask for work?" 
 
 " Humph ! Great yon know of such things ! I 
 tell you, there ain't anything in Morristown to 
 do for a fellow like me. If there was, I 'd do it, 
 
114 Anna May lie, 
 
 if only to get rid of Lute's scolding. She scolds 
 from morninoj till nio^ht." 
 
 " I dare say, — poor Lute ! There 's herself, 
 and you, and Mary, and Min, to support and 
 work for ; and what do you do to help her ? 
 Nothing, only to split a few sticks of wood now 
 and then ! " 
 
 " What is the use of your growing up in this 
 way, Rex? " slie added, in a kinder tone. "You 
 could be just as good - looking a young business 
 man as there is on Main Street. I 've often 
 looked at you coming up the street, and thought 
 if you would only get rid of your lounging walk, 
 and could wear good clothes, and have your hair 
 barbered like Virgil Dustin and those Academy 
 boys, you would look full as well as they." 
 
 " Well, I declare, Anna Maylie ! " 
 
 But a flush of gratification swept over his face 
 and left its light in his great gray eyes, and its 
 pride in the lift of his head ; and as he swept the 
 mass of jet black hair away from his forehead. 
 
The New Twilight, 115 
 
 he did look handsome. There was the material 
 for a man in him. 
 
 But Anna had no intention of complimenting 
 him. She was only speaking of an evident fact. 
 She went on earnestly : " If you really can't get 
 anything to do, Rex, why don't you go to school 
 this summer ? — School is free to everybody ; 
 you have plenty of time." 
 
 "That's nonsense, Anna I Isha'n't do that. 
 What would folks say? I'd get laughed at 
 finely." 
 
 "And that would kill you, I suppose? " 
 
 "Well — no. I rather guess if I can stand 
 your talk I could stand that. You 're pretty 
 good at giving a fellow a going over, Anna ! " 
 
 " Rex, I am sorry if I have hurt your feelings 
 in any way ; but I have always felt that you 
 could be somebody, and I wish I could see you 
 at it. Honestly, now, you must go to school." 
 
 He looked down at himself with a sarcastic 
 smile. " I'm a pretty figure to go to school I 
 
116 Anna Maylie. 
 
 Not a whole garment in the world, and Lute is 
 such a washer ! " 
 
 "But, Eex, 1 will mend your clothes, and I 
 will keep them in order too. I am the same as 
 my own mistress here, alone all day long." A 
 flush mounted to his forehead, and Anna saw it. 
 "That is," she added, "I will if you will turn 
 round and teach me in the evening what you learn 
 in the day-time. I only wish I could go to 
 school ! " 
 
 " I was just wondering why you did n't prac- 
 tice what you preach. I'd like to know what 
 wonderful good you have ever done ! " 
 
 " Oh, dear, I do n't know, Eex ! I need 
 somebody to tell me what to do full as much as 
 you do — hush ! — some one is coming." 
 
 Some one was always coming for that matter, 
 but this seemed to b^ some one in particular, — a 
 tall figure, — a young lady, evidently. Eex saw 
 her, and was off. 
 
 " Good evening, Anna," said a quiet voice. 
 
The JSTew Twilight, 117 
 
 Anna managed to say " good evening," and 
 then stood silent, for it was Kachel Mansfield. 
 What could have brought her there ? For never 
 before had she been seen on Morristovvn Common, 
 — not walking at least. She waited, expecting 
 her to go on, but Kachel stopped. " Then this 
 is where you live, is it, Anna? " 
 
 " Did n't you know it before ? " asked Anna, 
 bluntly. 
 
 "Forgive me, Anna," said Eachel, holding out 
 her hand ; " I know very well that I ought to 
 have looked you up before. We have belonged 
 to the same Sunday - school class so long." 
 
 Anna took the hand. " I did n't mean my 
 question in that way, Eachel. There is nothing to 
 forgive, of course not. Being in the same Sun- 
 day-school class is nothing." 
 
 " It ought to have been something, Anna. I 
 have always known that our relations should be 
 very different ; but then, if I had lived up to my 
 light in anything, I should be a very different 
 
118 Anna Maylie, 
 
 girl. Now that I am here, Anna, won't you walk 
 a - ways with me ? " 
 
 Anna's face expressed her great sm-prise. 
 But she looked back to the unlighted house, 
 standing there with its dark, open doors ; it would 
 seem so silent and lonely, so desolate to her 
 mother when she came. She said, " You are 
 very kind, Rachel, to invite me, but I never like 
 to go away in the evening when I am expecting 
 mother." 
 
 " You are alone, then ? JVIight we not go in 
 and sit down ? " 
 
 " If you will, I should be glad." 
 
 Eachel opened the gate and followed the as- 
 tonished Anna in. She sat down in a chair in 
 the dark, while Anna lighted a candle. As 
 Anna turned to place the light upon the table, 
 she was struck with Rachel's look of utter weari- 
 ness, — her great black eyes looked so sad, and 
 the haughty head leaned heavily upon the white 
 hand which flashed its rings so dazzlingiy. 
 
The JSTew Twilight, 119 
 
 They gave more light than the candle, she 
 thought. As the young lady raised her eyes, she 
 encountered Anna's expression of sympathy. 
 " You look very tired, Hachel," she said. 
 
 " And you, — you look very happy, Anna. 
 Are you? Miss Clemmer thinks you are." 
 
 Anna hesitated. "Yes, I am happy, Eachel. 
 I think I am more happy than contented." 
 
 " I did not know as that could be with Chris- 
 tians," said Eachel, inquiringly. "I thought 
 there was an end of all the soul's troubles, at 
 least. You, I thought, were entirely happy, from 
 Miss Clemmer's account." It was all said in- 
 quiringly, and Rachel wore an air of being 
 strangely disappointed. 
 
 Anna was silent for some time, and then she 
 said, thoughtfully, — " It is not unhappiness to be 
 discontented in the way I am. I am only dis- 
 contented because I am so anxious to be doing- 
 good, and I can not see how to do it, even when 
 I can see right where the work lies." 
 
120 Anna Maylie, 
 
 Rachel leaned back in her chair with a sigh. 
 "Yes, she was right, Anna; you are happy; as 
 happy as God means you to be. There is no 
 mistake about you. But I am sick and wretched, 
 Anna ! " 
 
 "you,Eachel?" 
 
 Judge Mansfield's great freestone residence on 
 Maple street, the tales she had heard of the mag- 
 nificence of their style of living, Miss Eachel's 
 rubies and silk dresses, her pony carriage, her 
 visits to New York, and Washington, and Bos- 
 ton, her splendid education, — all this flashed 
 through Anna's mind. ^Not that she would bar- 
 ter one ray of the light which shone upon her own 
 humble pathway for them all ; but how could 
 Rachel be unhappy, unless, indeed, — yet she 
 could not easily imagine Rachel wretched be- 
 cause she was a sinner ! 
 
 Rachel met Anna's wondering eyes, and turned 
 impatiently. "Do n't say 'you, Rachel ! ' to me 
 in that way, Anna ! I came here because I am 
 
The New Tivilight, 121 
 
 very miserable, tiud I knew you had found, — ^ 
 everything I want. If you could only sit down 
 and make it all plain for me." 
 
 A gush of tears came to Anna's eyes then. 
 "You, too, Rachel? How glad it will make Miss 
 Clemmer ! Why, Kachel, it is all so easy ; — it is 
 only to love Jesus." 
 
 Rachel turned away with the same hopeless 
 look with which she had turned from Miss Clem- 
 mer. " You were never wretched then like me ; 
 you can not help me, either." 
 
 Not Jesus ? No, Rachel would not have Jesus ! 
 But Anna knew no other remedy for sin. She 
 looked with sorrowful astonishment to see Rachel 
 turn away from the all -powerful Name. 
 
 She had never heard anything quite so sad as 
 Rachers tone was when she spoke again. "If 
 you, Anna, who have so lately learned the way, 
 can not show it to me, it is of no use." 
 
 " Have you talked with Dr. Mason ? He is so 
 wise ; he could explain everything to you so much 
 
122 Anna Maylie. 
 
 « 
 
 better than I can. He is wise and strong, while 
 I am ignorant and weak. 
 
 " No," said Eachel, decisively, and at once. 
 " I can not bear his searching eyes, and his 
 searching questions — not yet. He would never 
 let me alone again. I will not — will not com- 
 mit myself so. I could never go back, then." 
 
 Then Anna saw it all. She said, — " Eachel, it 
 is my way that you must go, after all. I see 
 now what hinders you ; you can not get into the 
 way. You stand at the entrance, and you are 
 busy all the while building up a wall of Kachel 
 Mansfield's pride and Rachel Mansfield's will. It 
 seems as if I could almost see them stand, just 
 like a stone wall, right across your way to 
 heaven ! " 
 
 At this moment Anna felt no awe of Eachel, 
 and Eachel listened to her with almost a look of 
 dread and quailing. 
 
 After a moment's thought, Anna came and sat 
 down close by her side and began talking in a 
 
The New Twilight, 123 
 
 low voice. " You said I had never been wretched, 
 Eachel. I suppose I have not been — like you. 
 But there was a short time when I was even as 
 sad as you ; and I will tell you about it. It was at 
 the first of Miss Clemmer's Friday prayer meet- 
 ings, and she was praying for us all, Rachel, and 
 she was so sorrowful over us ; you never can think 
 what it was. It was very strange, even then ; 
 but all at once I scarcely heard a word. I was 
 away among dreary mountains, in dreary lands, 
 and there, between two gloomy hills, was the 
 cross, and Jesus was on it, and oh, what agony it 
 was upon His face ! And he said, ''It was for 
 thee — fo7' thee ! ' In a moment it was all gone, 
 and I heard Miss Clemmer's voice again, but 
 plainer still, Rachel, I was repeating to myself, 
 ' It was for thee — for thee I ' and what agony it 
 was ! Oh, I could not help loving Him ! How 
 can you ? " 
 
 Rachel's face was hidden, but she pressed An- 
 na's hand convulsively. In a choked voice she 
 
124 Anna Maylie, 
 
 said, while her whole frame shook with emotion, 
 —"And it lasts?" 
 
 ''Yes, Each el, it lasts. I, too, wondei'^d if it 
 would. But as soon as I told Miss Clemmer, as 
 soon as I confessed my Saviour, Rachel, then I 
 knew that I loved Jesus, and that my sins were 
 forgiven." 
 
 " And you never feel that you are a sinner any 
 more, Anna? " 
 
 Anna answered not for a long time. At last 
 she said, — " It is a very solemn thing to say ' I am 
 not a wretched sinner ! ' I feel that I should be 
 one, Rachel, if I were not kept by a power that 
 comes from heaven." 
 
 *'And it will last, you think, Anna? Shall 
 you never do wrong again ? " 
 
 Anna looked distressed. " O Rachel ! " she ex- 
 claimed, in a pained voice. After many mo- 
 ments' pause, she said, " I know that I have many 
 feelings which are not right, but it seems to me, 
 if I try to put them away, and if I do not willfully 
 
The New Tivilight. 125 
 
 do that which I know to bo wrong when I am 
 doing it, that the atonement which Jesus has 
 made will always be for me, always availing." 
 
 " And you are not afraid, Anna, to proclaim to 
 the whole world that you are a Christian ? What 
 if you should go back and lose all this ? " 
 
 Rachel's proud eyes were bent upon her 
 now ; but Anna Maylie's religion was something 
 not to be torn down by the skepticism, or the 
 analysis, or the pride of Rachel Mansfield. Her 
 face shone with a more glorious light than the 
 light of intellect. In a voice that thrilled her 
 listener, she answered, " I know that I love Je- 
 sus now! And, Rachel, ^ I believe that He is 
 able to keep that which I have committed unto 
 Him' ! " 
 
 For a moment Rachel forgot her proud, 
 wretched self. She gazed at Anna, and she 
 gazed around the room with its bare walls, and 
 /ts bare floor, its tallow candle, its scanty wood- 
 en furniture, and then again a,t the grave, sturdy 
 
126 Anna Maylie, 
 
 girl in her calico dress, and for one moment she 
 wished — oh, so mournfully — that she was Anna 
 May lie. 
 
 She heard voices at the gate. It was Mrs. 
 May lie and the children, and she rose to go. 
 The voice was very quiet and low in which she 
 said. "I will follow your advice, Anna. On my 
 way home I shall call on Dr. Mason. I will not 
 be kept out of heaven by Rachel Mansfield's 
 pride. But I will do my duty as you have shown 
 it to me, dear Anna, and I will leave God to deal 
 with me according to His mercy. " 
 
 As Rachel walked slowly home, so utterly 
 weary, there came not up to her remembrance 
 any one of those sublime utterances of the mas- 
 ters of thouo^ht and son<j which all her life had 
 rung in her memory, becoming a part of herself, 
 until she almost thought with their words instead 
 of her own. Her home had its magnificent li- 
 brary ; and exquisite editions of the poets, in their 
 rich leather and gleaming gold, were scattered 
 
The New Twilight, 127 
 
 throughout the luxurious apartments. Besides, 
 like many another girl, Rachel had a habit of 
 cutting out and copying passages and poems 
 which in some way had stirred and thrilled her, 
 and her own particular books, with the drawers 
 of her bureau and writing - table, were filled 
 with slips and written poems ; and among them 
 were many beautiful hymns from the different 
 church collections. But not one of them all 
 came to her aid to - night with its olden strength 
 or comfort. How often Longfellow's Psalm of 
 Life had quieted her in her hours of vague sadness ! 
 How often she had calmed " life's fitful fever," 
 and forgotten its tossings and its delirium, with 
 the stately cadence of Bryant's Forest Hymn ! 
 And when in her weariest moments, dissatisfied 
 with the best and noblest of her endeavors, and 
 "onging for the rest which earth can never give, 
 she still refused with the obstinacy of an unre- 
 generated nature to flee to the unmistakable 
 teachings and consolations of the Bible, but 
 
128 Anna Ifaylie, 
 
 turned instead to the stately numbers and solemn 
 thought of Bryant's Thanatopsis, she had never 
 failed to go back into the world soothed and 
 calmed, refreshed and encouraged, even if she 
 was still unsatisfied. 
 
 How often in her best and saddest moments, 
 communing with herself, she had repeated those 
 closino' lines : 
 
 o 
 " So live, that, when thy summons comes to join 
 The innumerable caravan that moves 
 To that mysterious realm, where each shall take 
 His chamber in the silent halls of death. 
 Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night. 
 Scourged to his dungeon ; but, sustained and soothed 
 By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
 Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
 About him, and lies down to peaceful dreams." 
 
 But to - night everything which was of this 
 world fiiiled her. There was no help, no ade- 
 quate help or soothing, in the moral sublimity 
 of the poets and the books she had leaned up- 
 on. 
 
 Instead, unbidden, uncalled, there floated 
 through her brain, and persistently sounded in 
 
The New Twilight. 129 
 
 her ear, just a simple little hymn which she had 
 many times heard unmoved at the winter revival 
 
 services 
 
 " Come, humble sinner, in whose bi^ast 
 A thousand thoughts revolve, 
 Come with your guilt and fear oppressed, 
 And make this last resolve :— 
 
 " I'll go to Jesus, though my sin 
 Like mountains round me close ; 
 I know His courts ; T '11 enter in. 
 Whatever may oppose. 
 
 ** Prostrate I '11 lie before His throne. 
 And there my guilt confess ; 
 I '11 tell Him, I'm a wretch undone 
 Without His sovereign grace. 
 
 " Perhaps He will admit my plea, 
 Perhaps will hear my prayer ; 
 But, if I perish, I will pray, 
 And perish only there. 
 
 " I can but perish if I go ; 
 I am resolved to try ; 
 For if I stay away, I krow 
 I must forever die." 
 
CHAPTER IX, 
 
 PEACE. 
 
 Ki^.-S^"^ OTHER, I wish you were going 
 
 wl to church with me to-day," Anna 
 
 ^c^oV^ Maylie said, as she came down 
 
 'ft^ stairs, dressed to go. 
 Mrs. Maylie shook her head. "That's for my 
 betters. You know I ain't had a dress fit to 
 wear into a church for these ten years." The 
 woman said it with a sisrh. " It ain't rio-ht, but 
 I can't help it, as I know of. Maybe it '11 be 
 counted something to me that I kept you fixed to 
 
Peace, 131 
 
 go. Bring home two Sunday - school books, if 
 you can." 
 
 "Poor mother !" sighed Anna, as she went 
 down to the gate. "How hard it is ! Poor 
 mother ; it can not, can not be written down as 
 ein, when she is so good ; — it can not be." 
 
 Her father stood leaning upon the gate ; for a 
 wonder he had not yet gone down to the saloon. 
 With something of the instinctive breeding of the 
 Maylie men of other generations, he stepped aside 
 and opened the gate to let his girl pass, and there 
 was to be seen in his face something like pride, 
 that one, at least, of his family was respectable. 
 He was almost entirely sober this morning, and 
 had risen in time for the family breakfast, — an 
 occurrence which did not often take place. And 
 at breakfast, much to Anna's annoyance, Jacky 
 and Jim had been full of talk concerning the 
 grand young lady whom they had found with her 
 tlie evening before, when they came home. 
 
 " Oh my ! was n't them regular sparklers in her 
 
132 Anna Maylie. 
 
 ears, and on her fingers? I wish you had 'em, 
 Anna I " 
 
 "Anna don't want such thmgs," said Mrs* 
 Maylie. " You much better wish she had Miss 
 Mansfield's education." 
 
 The father spoke. " Who you makin' all this 
 fuss about? Who was it, and where? " 
 
 " It was Judge Mansfield's daughter, Thomas," 
 his wife answered. "She was here to see Anna, 
 last night." 
 
 The man's face reddened, and he hastily 
 glanced about the room, then settled down again. 
 " Well, what of it ? You seem to make a great 
 thing of it, as if it was some mighty honor. 
 Humph ! I 'd have you to know that Jim Mans- 
 field used to be the one honored when I invited 
 him home with me for the holidays, when we 's at 
 Yale. The old guv 'nor always was mightily 
 taken with Jim, and Jim's girl may well come 
 and see mine. Hold up your head with the best 
 of 'em, Anna." 
 
Peace, 133 
 
 '* And so she might, Thomas, if you" — 
 
 " If I what ? — confound you ! " 
 
 But this burst was all. The meal was finished 
 in silence ; and Mrs. May lie w^as not sorry for 
 what she had said, for so gentle and intelligent 
 a look she had not seen upon her husband's face 
 for many a year. 
 
 The same look, and it was a sad one withal, 
 was yet upon his face as he closed the gate after 
 Anna, and it deepened as he saw, at the same 
 moment that she did, Mr. Greyson briskly pass- 
 ing the corner on his way to church, accompa- 
 nied by his daughter, of about Anna's own age. 
 The first bell had done ringing, and it was a 
 long walk from Morristown Common to the up- 
 per portion of the town, but Anna lingered a 
 moment. Mechanically turning in a pocket of 
 her father's coat, which was wrong side out, and 
 brushing a straw from his hat, she ventured to 
 Bay,— 
 
 " O Father, how proud I should feel if you 
 
134 Anna Maylie, 
 
 were going to church with me !" and E-achel 
 IMansfield never bestowed upon her stately fa- 
 ther a look more full of love. 
 
 "I dare say, Sis," he answered, glancing 
 around upon himself expressively. " You better 
 hurry now, for there's the second bell." 
 
 "He didn't sneer at me, anyhow ;" thus Anna 
 comforted herself as she hastened away. " Poor 
 father ! Poor mother ! " 
 
 IN^otwithstanding the dreary life she left behind 
 her at home, it was a holy, happy Sabbath morn^ 
 ing to Anna. In spite of her troubles and sor- 
 rows, she was happy, for, although it was not 
 always so, this morning she found a comfort in 
 her faith that everything would yet be well. How 
 could it fail to eventuate so, after her ceaseless 
 prayers ? " Poor father and mother ! " she said 
 again and again ; " perhaps no one has ever 
 prayed for them ! I never thought of it until last 
 week, that there was no one in the whole world 
 to pray for them but me I Oh, there is so much 
 
Peace* 135 
 
 work lying all around me, that nobody will do 
 but me, and I don't seem to know how ! " And 
 yet Anna Maylie was happy. There is no posi- 
 tive unhappiness for the Christian, except 
 sin. 
 
 The bells had ceased ringing as she came up, 
 and the throngs of people had nearly all passed 
 in, but in the south door of the vestibule stood 
 Judge Mansfield and Kachel. Anna bowed, for 
 ^Rachel had turned especially to meet her, 
 Rachel greeted her with the smile of last night. 
 
 "Wait, Anna; the sexton has just gone down 
 the aisle ; but will you not sit wath me to - day ? " 
 and she detained her. Her father glanced inquir- 
 ingly at her as he saw Anna with her, but she 
 quietly motioned him to go in. As Anna found 
 herself following Kachel in her dainty organdie, 
 with its snowy lace mantilla, down the aisle, she 
 caught herself wondering what Fanny Ilowland, 
 yes, and Satie Marsh, would think. And wdieu 
 Judge Mansfield stood aside for her to pass into 
 
136 Anna Maylie, 
 
 his pew, with that same grave stateliness which 
 she had so much admired when Rachel had 
 her Boston friends with her hist summer, she 
 wondered afresh what those girls would think, 
 aye, and all the congregation, for that matter. 
 She was scarcely herself all the while that Dr. 
 Mason was reading the first hymn, so busy was 
 she with what Fanny would think, and what 
 Satie would think ; and then it all came up viv- 
 idly again, as Rachel moved nearer, and held her 
 velvet - bound hymn book for her to share. 
 
 But the solemn strains of the organ quieted and 
 restored her. She felt heartily ashamed of her 
 vanity and worldliness. While the choir v^as 
 singing, she looked up and scanned Rachel's face. 
 It was sad, but it was also peacefid ; the struggle 
 •was evidently over. And Rachel must have felt 
 the sympathetic scrutiny, for, as they sat down, 
 she took and kept her hand. 
 
 Dr. Mason was one of the divines who have 
 given weight and reputation to our Theological 
 
Peace, 137 
 
 Literature, both at home and abroad, and our 
 cottage girl of fifteen had only ventured to lift 
 the covers of his works with great reverence. 
 She had never expected to read one of those 
 learned pages. But last Sabbath she had listened 
 to his sermon with a rare surprise, — a surprise 
 that she could understand it, — so much of it, at 
 least. She did not know, strong, simple Anna, 
 that it was because to her, as to all the children 
 of God, it had been given to " discern spiritual 
 things." 
 
 To - day she constantly glanced at Rachel dur- 
 ing the sermon, and not without reason. For to- 
 day it was not the usual written sermon. He 
 held, indeed, a few notes in his hand, but he only 
 told the story of the cross, simply and sweetly, 
 as John the beloved might have told it to the sin- 
 sick souls of Galilee and Judea. Only those 
 who have known Jesus can tell it so. And in 
 every sentence there was healing for Rachel. 
 Years afterward she could not speak of it without 
 
138 Anna MayUe, 
 
 tears, so strong, and sweet, and tender, was its 
 memory. 
 
 "It is God who has fashioned us," he said. 
 " He has created each one of us a distinct indi- 
 vidual, and in his dealings with the human fam 
 ily, He never f)rgets or confuses the identity of 
 one of His creatures. He Himself respects the 
 laws He has made. God will never break one 
 of His own laws. He deals with each according 
 to the secret, central law of his being. . . To 
 love Jesus, and to trust Jesus, is sufficient, then, 
 for those natures which are simple and sincere : • 
 the. first experience of such an one, is simply love 
 and rejoicing, and more frequently the sorrow for 
 sin comes afterward, in remembering how long 
 the blessed Redeemer of the world has been 
 grieved, and slighted, and turned away. 
 
 " But there are other natures whom it is need- 
 ful to render thoroughly sick of sin, that they 
 may hate and abhor sin with a fierce antipathy 
 forever afterward. Perhaps it is necessary that 
 
Peace, 139 
 
 tliey should try every resource of their own 
 strength, so that they may lean unquestioningly 
 upon the strength of the Almighty hereafter, — 
 necessary that all alternatives and substitutes 
 be tried, that afterward there shall be no lonoiufrs 
 to go back to the beggarly elements of the 
 world. 
 
 "But remember, when you have tried every- 
 thing, and are dissatisfied, when you are utterly 
 worn out, and convinced that if there is anything 
 satisfying to the soul of man it must be in the re- 
 ligion of the Bible, and you turn from earth and 
 self toward heaven, — then remember there is 
 no way but Jesus. 
 
 *I AM THE Door,' He said. 
 
 ' I AM THE Way,' He said. 
 
 ' No MAN COMETH UNTO THE FaTHER BUT BY 
 
 Me,' He said. 
 "It is Jesus, the same Jesus, for the lowly and 
 the lofty, for the simple and the wise. There 
 are eloquent doctrinal disputations, there are fine- 
 
140 Anna May lie. 
 
 Bpun discussions, and there are curious theories ; 
 but when it comes to the question of salvation for 
 the soul of a sinner, there is nothing but Jesus, 
 and there never will be, to the end of time and 
 human probation. ' Yerily, verily, I say unto 
 you, he that entereth not by the door into the 
 sheepfold, but climbeth up some other way, the 
 same is a thief and a robber.' All the self- 
 willed and self- sufficient sinners of eighteen cen- 
 turies, who have sought to climb up any other 
 way, have fallen back thwarted. Not one of 
 them has ever reached heaven, save those who 
 went back and turned into the narrow path that 
 leads by Calvary and the sepulcher of our risen 
 Jesus." 
 
 Heavily Eachel's head bent on her hand dur- 
 ing the words of prayer that followed, heavily 
 it still rested there while the organ breathed its 
 sweet, appealing response, and Anna looked ten- 
 derly upon her as she sat there still, while the 
 congregation rose. 
 
Peace, 141 
 
 Tenderly they sang, and It seemed to Anna as 
 
 if it was to comfort Eacliel : — 
 
 " "We see thy band— it leads us, it supports us ; — 
 "We hear thy voice— it counsels and it courts us ; 
 And then we turn away ! yet still thy kindness 
 Forgives our blindness." 
 
 As she lifted her head, she turned to Anna, and 
 a great light was shining in her eyes. "It is for 
 me, Anna," she said. "lam going round by 
 the cross and the sepulcher " 
 
 She turned away, the tear-drops falling and 
 shining through the veil she had drawn ; and as 
 she passed her father, she laid a trembling hand 
 upon his sleeve, — "Father, I am going to be a 
 Christian." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 OUT - OF - DOOES. 
 
 HE FIRST day Anna spent in the 
 Clemmer gardens had been a day of 
 steady, hard work ; and when she plod- 
 ded alono^ home that nisfht it was with 
 tired feet and aching back. Besides, the sun and 
 wind had chapped her face, and made it very sore. 
 Yet if there had been nothing worse than this 
 kind of weariness, she would not have minded it 
 so. But she felt thoroughly worn out also with 
 trying to please the gardener, and she knew that 
 not all her feelings that day had been such as be- 
 
Out - of- Boors. 143 
 
 came Christians, and this, I suspect, was what 
 made her so disheartened as she walked home. 
 
 Johnson was an Englishman, and very partic- 
 ular, and had no patience with slip - shod Ameri- 
 can ways. In fact, he had long ago settled, in 
 his own mind, upon the best way of doing eveiy- 
 thing ; and that his ideas concerning gardening 
 were of the very best, there is no denying. Bat 
 his thoroughness and particular ways were a 
 great trial to those who assisted him. 
 
 Taking everything together, Anna's first day 
 out - of - doors was quite unlike her cherished 
 dream of being employed by Miss Clemmer ; for, 
 to add to various other disappointments, she had 
 seen her teacher only once, and then for just a 
 brief moment before she came home. INIiss 
 Clemmer was quite ill, and was lying upon the 
 vofa in her own room. 
 
 She had thought that it could not help being 
 delightful to cut roses all day in those beautiful 
 grounds; for from Miss Clemmer's window she 
 
144 Jinna May lie. 
 
 had never grown weary of looking down upon the 
 rosery and the stretching lawn. It had never 
 occurred to her that she should need instructions 
 about such a simple thing as cutting roses ; much 
 less that she should need to be watched as she 
 watched Jacky when she set him a task. Yery 
 thankful that God had bestowed beauty and lux- 
 ury somewhere in the world if not around her own 
 home, she had taken her shears in the morning, 
 and, setting her basket down under a great cin- 
 namon rose, had blithely begun her labors ; and 
 she was not aware that the gardener stood near 
 her until she was startled by his sharp, quick 
 voice at her elbow. " 'Old hon 'ere. Miss Hanna I 
 You 've clij)ped hoff four hold ones ! No brown- 
 ish roses goes hinto rose - water hat this 'ouse ; 
 leave hall them ! '* 
 
 She soon found that it was not such swift, 
 careless work, after all. Two looks of her inex- 
 perienced eye must go to each rose. " 'Old hon 
 now, Miss Hanna I That rose honly blowed this 
 
Out - of' Doors, 145 
 
 »ere blessed morning ; hi would n't let hanybody 
 but Miss Clemmer 'erself clip that till night, no 
 'ow ; folks' heyes on the street 'ave 'ad no chanco 
 hat hit hat hall." 
 
 These peremptory tones never failed to " make 
 her jump" as she expressed it, and she became so 
 nervous that she felt almost afraid of the partic- 
 ular, little, old man. But she knew that he was 
 in the right ; and she worked on as industriously 
 and cheerfully as possible. She soon learned to 
 distinguish the fullness and depth of color, and 
 the crisp texture of petal which marked the fresh- 
 ly - blown rose ; and when he did not feel obliged 
 to have his attention occupied in watching her, 
 she found that he could be quite entertaining ; and 
 she regretted that in her thoughts she had called 
 him " a cross old thing." She was very much 
 interested in his account of a rose - tree in Eng- 
 land which was many hundred years old and grew 
 by a very ancient church, — he himself had seen 
 it in blossom more than once, and if he was not 
 
146 Anna Maylie^ 
 
 so old and infirm, lie woaldn't mind crossing the 
 ocean again to get a slip of it for Miss Clemmer. 
 Just as he said that, she was startled by another 
 sharp exclamation. 
 
 " Miss Hanua ! Now if hi 'ave n't a mind to 
 toss your shears hover the fence ! Three buds 
 of this 'ere Doctor Mark cut hoflp, and it a 'aving 
 honlv heij^ht roses hanyow ! and it a - beinsf Miss 
 Gertie's favorite, and hi a - saving these 'ere last 
 buds for 'er bouquet to - night ? " 
 
 Anna laid down lier shears in dismay. " O 
 Johnson, I'm so sorry! But the rose was so 
 large, and so many green leaves, — I never saw 
 the buds at all. Could n't they be put in water 
 and kept some way ? " But there were no stems ; 
 the mischief w^as irremediable, whatever it was, 
 and Anna felt she was in dis2:race. 
 
 "AVell, go hon!" he said, ^'There's a *ard 
 day's work yet before hus ! " 
 
 After that, she worked witli such nervous care 
 that the day was a great trial instead of a pleas- 
 
Out -of -Doors. 147 
 
 ui'e. But her industry was such that Johnson 
 soon forgave her. By noon her arms ached 
 with reaching over and reaching up ; and by 
 night her hands, hard and rough as they were 
 when she commenced, were blistered by the 
 shears. 
 
 Her only satisfaction came when the day's 
 work was over, and the housekeeper gave her 
 her half-dollar, — five, shining, silver, ten -cent 
 pieces ; and Johnson told her very pleasantly tliat 
 she was to come again to - morrow and help trim 
 up the rose bushes for Miss Gertie's picnic on 
 Wednesday ; and said to the housekeeper that she 
 had cut fully one - half the roses. Of course all 
 her trials had been small ; perhaps her sins of ill - 
 temper would be accounted small sins ; but as 
 she walked home she felt sorely grieved, and she 
 prayed fervently for a religion that would bear 
 contact with the every - day world and every - 
 day life. 
 
 There was no one there when she reached 
 
148 Anna Maylie, 
 
 home, and she threw herself down in the door, 
 and sat there a long time fanning herself with 
 her sun - bonnet. 
 
 " The whole would seem so very little ; yet 
 INliss Clemmer said the Lord only required ^\q 
 cents out of fifty, even in the strictest Bible sense. 
 And I know, when mother works so hard, that 
 even forty - five cents will help her ; it will buy 
 something. But, oh dear ! I want to pay my 
 share toward Dr. Mason's salary, and I want to 
 pay toward the Home Missions, and the Foreign 
 Missions, and the Tract Society, and the Bible 
 Society ; but what can I do with only a few five - 
 cent pieces ? I hope I am a larger Christian than 
 that ! And how I should like to earn mother a 
 dress, so she could go to church ! But she 
 would n't be ready then. No ; she has no gloves, 
 no gaiters, no shawl, no bonnet; oh, my poor, 
 poor mother ! " 
 
 Anna just buried her face in her sun - bonnet 
 and sobbed. Never before had she realized to 
 
Out- of -Doors. 149 
 
 the full her mother's destitution ; never before, all 
 her years of patient, wordless self-denial. 
 " There shall be better things for mother ! " she 
 cried, vehemently. " And I believe that God 
 would never, never put so many things right in 
 my path, and show me that they needed doing, 
 if He did n't intend to help me do them — so ! 
 There's Jacky and Jim now ; I think if they 
 could only be dressed up I could get them to 
 Sunday - school, and then they would gradually 
 grow different. Oh, it is so hard ! " 
 
 She had never felt poverty so before, and just 
 as vividly she felt a sense of ignorance and in- 
 capacity ; this was constantly recurring to her 
 now. Despite her emphatic declaration of trust 
 in God's dealings just a few moments before, her 
 faith again deserted her, and her gloom grew al- 
 most as deep as the olden bitterness. 
 
 She was roused by a step on the grass. It 
 was Rex Palmer. 
 
 "Well, Anna?" 
 
150 Anna Maylie, 
 
 ''Well, Eex?" 
 
 " I have brought over my linen coat for you to 
 mend, and to give you your lesson." 
 
 Anna sprang to her feet. " You do n't mean 
 that you have been to school ? " 
 
 "Yes 'm. You did n't suppose that I was go- 
 ing to take your shaming ? " 
 
 She lit the candle, and took down her needle - 
 cushion, but stopped and looked up again so 
 brioht, so orlad. 
 
 "OEex, did you go?" 
 . "Well, you do n't need to be so rejoiced about 
 it if I did. It is n't at all likely that I shall go 
 again ! " 
 
 She glanced at him in surprise. His face was 
 a little overcast, but he sat down with a laugh. 
 " However, Anna, I '11 share my one day's 
 schooling with you. Perhaps you 've noticed, 
 though, that I 've brought over no books; any- 
 way,' the teachers noticed it when I got there. 
 I never once thought about the books ; did you ? 
 
Out - of- Doors, 151 
 
 Well, let me tell you what I learned. First, 
 that books to the auiouRt of five dollars are req- 
 uisite. Second, that a boy of eighteen in hia 
 ehirt sleeves, and with bare feet, is not consid- 
 ered respectable. Thu'd, that I will have to 
 study about two years to understand what boys 
 of thirteen and fourteen know. I also learned 
 that you can cipher on the black - board with let- 
 ters as well as you can with figures, and that 
 Miss Parsons up there knows enough a sight 
 more about the moon and a star she calls Mer- 
 cury, than I do about this earth I 've lived on 
 eighteen years. Also, that it is n't probable that 
 I shall ever again be inoide of a school - house." 
 " Rex ! Why ? Do n't you like it ? " 
 "Don't I like it? Anna May lie, I'd cut off 
 my right arm if I could spend two years there I 
 Why do n't I go, then? That's just like a girl ! 
 I believe girls can't reason ! How, if I live 
 twenty years, am I to get hold of five dollars' 
 worth of books ? I'd be willing to go and sit 
 
152 Anna Maylie, 
 
 without books ; I could learn so much just hear 
 ing tlie classes recite ; but they would n't hear to 
 having things done out of the regular line, hke 
 that, I suppose. It's no go. But I want you to 
 please remember, Miss Anna, that I did n't take 
 your ' shaming' for nothing ! " 
 
 "No, Eex, you didn't. And I believe the 
 Lord will send you books." 
 
 Rex sneered. " Shall I look for them through 
 the Post Office ! " 
 
 Anna laid down her work, looking so shocked. 
 " Eexford Palmer ! You wicked boy ! " 
 
 " Oh, now, Anna, do n't act lilce that I I was 
 too bad ; but I never did have any faith in Provi- 
 dence." 
 
 She curled her lip. "I am not speaking of 
 your kind of Providence, Eex. I meant that, if 
 you was in earnest to go to school, you could n't 
 help finding a way to earn five dollars. You are 
 a great sturdy fellow ; it would be ridiculous to 
 give you your books I " 
 
Out - of' Doors. 153 
 
 "Well, Miss, if that's your style, and 3^ou've 
 got my coat done, and you think what I 've 
 learned at school to - day has paid you for your 
 trouble, I'll take it and be off." 
 
 " If you '11 leave it, I '11 iron it out, Rex. I '11 
 have time while we 're getting breakfast, and 
 that '11 be bright and early, for I 'm going out to 
 work again to - morrow. I earned fifty cents to- 
 day, Mr. Rex Palmer ! " 
 
 But Rex was out of the gate and half way 
 down the walk ; whether angry or not, Anna 
 couldn't tell. She sat there a long time musing. 
 And when she rose, as she heard her mother open 
 the gate, she said with a smile, — " Well, I do n't 
 know that I am sorry for what I said. I could n't 
 very well help it. And maybe he won't take my 
 ' shaming' this time, either I " 
 

 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PREMONITIONS. 
 
 HEN Anna came to the little 
 
 prayer meeting, Friday evening, she 
 was not surprised to find Rachel 
 Mansfield already there. But she 
 was both surprised and grieved to see Miss Clem- 
 mer in her dressing gown, leaning wearily back 
 among the sofa pillows. All Miss Clemmer's 
 habits were so dainty and precise, that she felt in^ 
 stinctively that this implied more serious illness 
 than she liked to think. 
 
Premonitions, 155 
 
 Rachel rose to meet her. "I thought I should 
 see yoa to-night," Anna said, as she returned 
 the warm pressure of her hand. 
 
 " Yes, and I am clothed and in my right mind ; 
 and the miracle is greater to me than its counter- 
 part in the country of the Gadarenes." 
 
 Miss Clemmer drew them down on either side 
 of her. "It is only three weeks, and here are two 
 of my girls ! But I shall not have the rest so 
 soon ; it is to be a different task to reach them, I 
 fear." 
 
 But Eachel, like all the children born into 
 the kingdom, was born a missionary ; she was 
 already at work. " I called for Fanny to - night, 
 but she had a houseful of company, or I really 
 think she would have come with me. 1 never 
 saw her appear quite as she did this evening. 
 Oh, how you cough. Miss Clemmer; let me beg 
 you to lie down again. " 
 
 "No, I hardly think I need to. I am sorry 
 that I am no better to-ni^ht. I have been sav- 
 
156 Anna Maylie, 
 
 ing my strength all day, that I might be stronger 
 this evening. I will ask you to sit down at the 
 melodeon, Rachel, while Anna sings." 
 
 Yery sweetly, as she lay with closed eyes, the 
 voices of her girls floated through the chamber. 
 It was the tender, time - worrf strain, " Sweet 
 Hour of Prayer ;" but Miss Clemmer felt that she 
 had never heard it sung so tenderly before. 
 Something in the peace and depth of their voices 
 took her back to the time when she first entered 
 the service of her Master, and she felt again the 
 early glow, the entire devotion, and the surpass- 
 ing peace. How long she looked upon them 
 that night, marking the dignity which religion 
 was developing in simple Anna Maylie, and 
 dwelling upon Rachel's gentleness I She prayed 
 that she might never see that serene face proud 
 and sparkling with worldliness again. 
 
 The slight flush which had been upon Miss 
 Clemmer's cheek, while speaking, had faded, 
 leaving her very pale. So delicate, so spirituelle 
 
Premonitions, 157 
 
 she looked, in the soft light of the room, that, as 
 Anna turned from the melodeon and looked upon 
 the dear, dear face, all her love and anxiety for 
 her teacher came surging up. She knelt by the 
 sofa and buried her face in the folds of Miss 
 Clemmer's dress. Sob after sob came from her 
 full heart. " Oh, they never told me how sick 
 you were ; they thought it was nothing to me ! 
 And now you are going to die I I know it so 
 well." 
 
 For a moment Miss Clemmer was startled ; 
 but she only laid her fair, white hand upon 
 Anna's bright braids, and said, gently, " My poor 
 little impulsive girl ! " Then, in a lighter tone, 
 " Why, Anna, how nervous you are to - night ! 
 I never thought anything like this of you. But 
 you are quite mistaken, dear. I know I have 
 not been well this week ; I think I took a slight 
 cold one evening at the teachers' meeting ; but, 
 really, it is nothing serious. I expect, my dear 
 Anna, to live to see you a useful woman, and all 
 
158 Anna Maylie, 
 
 my lambs safe in the fold. I shall certainly be 
 very careful of my health, if I am so dear to my 
 girls ;" and she seemed quite herself again, as she 
 raised Anna, and then rose and knelt with them. 
 But resting there, listening to Eachel's low, 
 earnest tones, the cheerful courage with which 
 she had spoken to Anna seemed to leave her. 
 A strange, painless feeling of weakness came over 
 her ; her strength seemed ebbing, ebbing away. 
 Her head sank wearily lower and rested on her 
 hand. Was it poor Anna's impulsive words or 
 w^hat was it, that, for the first time, she was 
 touched with a feeHnsf that her work mio^ht be 
 nearly done ? Heart and brain and hand alike 
 grew nerveless in that hour's strange weakness. 
 And then the thought came to her, that she might 
 never live to accomplish the labors she had 
 planned and begun ; that to the younger, earnest 
 spirits at her side, it might be left to finish the 
 work she had loved so well. There was a touch 
 of sadness which came with this first conscious- 
 
Premonitio7is. 159 
 
 ness that, for her, life might be passing away, 
 for life was dear ; life was beautiful still. Hers 
 had been full of grand endeavor, fragile and del- 
 icate though she was, and she had loved her work 
 in the Master's field here below. But if the 
 sadness overcame her for a season, she doubted 
 not, if the time of her departure was, indeed, 
 drawing near, that she should be enabled to say 
 like Paul, — *' I have fought the good fight, I 
 have finished my course, I have kept the faith ; 
 henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of 
 righteousness, which the Lord, the rigb^teous 
 Judge, shall give me in that day." 
 
 And as they rose, her girls saw the transfig- 
 mnng light of that hour of premonition and faith 
 still upon her face ; and as they looked upon her, 
 a throb of poor little Anna's pain shook Rachel's 
 heart. 
 
 As they were about to separate, and sat say- 
 ing the last few words, so dear to them all. Miss 
 Clemmer turned to Anna. "And you, who 
 
160 Anna Maylie, 
 
 seem to find most happiness in doing, what have 
 you done since we last talked together? " 
 
 " Nothing, nothing. Miss Clemmer. I have 
 only spent my time in wanting to work." 
 
 There was a moment's pause, in which Kachel 
 softly said, — " Then you have quite forgotten all 
 the good you did me, Anna?" Anna gazed 
 upon her a moment with thoughtful eyes, as Miss 
 Clemmer spoke. 
 
 " W^ork upon which we set no value, Anna, is 
 often the richest in results. You may have accom- 
 plished much more than you think. The result 
 of our deeds is often invisible for a long time ; 
 just as it is in the out -door world, you love so 
 well, Anna ; our influence seems to melt away, 
 as moisture sinks through the earth ; but by and 
 by it wears itself a little channel, and goes steal- 
 ing along, until, suddenly, a crystal spring bub- 
 bles up into sight, and furnishes refreshment for 
 many." 
 
 Anna looked cheered, but she said, — " I do n't 
 
Premonitions, 161 
 
 know ; I sometimes think that mj efforts make 
 things worse. Now I talked to mother about 
 going to church, and I only made her uuliappy, 
 for she can't go ; she can only dress me to go. 
 And then I did try Jack and Jim, Miss Clemmer, 
 and I will again, but you can 't think how differ- 
 ent it is from anything you have read about a sis- 
 ter's teaching. They are so daring that they 
 frighten me. They have no reverence at all ; 
 they make my Bible stories all over. They think 
 faster than I possibly can, and they do n't think 
 Bible at all ; they think just as they talk in the 
 street. They are not afraid of me, or my stories 
 either ; and, now it may not be right, but I can 
 not bear to talk to them of Jesus until I can 
 teach them respect for the other parts of the Bible. 
 Then I tried to eucourage one of the boys on our 
 street, Eex Palmer, — he is eighteen years old, — 
 to go to school, and he did go one day, but he 
 hasn't any books, and what I said about it only 
 had a bad effect, for he is angry now, and I 'm 
 
162 Anna Maylie, 
 
 afraid he won't go to school after all. The only 
 real good that 1 know of is, that I have worked 
 four days for jou, IMiss Clemmer, and so I have 
 twenty cents of my own ; and now wo n't you 
 take it, and give it somewhere, where it is 
 needed ? There are so many things that I want to 
 do with it, that I can 't do anything." 
 
 Mi^s Clemmer and Rachel looked at Anna in 
 silence, — Rachellearning a lesson of daily, hour- 
 ly thoroughness and self-sacrifice. "Our little 
 missionary girl seems in sad need of an auxiliary,'* 
 she said in a low tone to Miss Clemmer. " I 
 wonder if I could not find work to do in her 
 field." 
 
 The teacher felt that she had a right to 
 strengthen Anna's faith. " When we sow seed, 
 Anna, we allow it time to germinate, do we not? 
 Do you not remember? 'First the blade, and 
 then the ear, and after that the full corn in the 
 ear.' I have always believed that there has been 
 no vv'ord spoken for Jesus that was in vain. But 
 
Premonitions, 163 
 
 that, you know, is quite different from saying 
 that we shall be permitted, in this life, to see the 
 fruit of all our labors. Go on, Anna, as you 
 have begun, and let no opportunity of sowing 
 the good seed pass. And when you can not 
 work, pray ; that is sometimes the only way that 
 unfinished labor can be completed." 
 
 Anna listened earnestly to this, and then, re- 
 ceiving permission to come around after Sabbath - 
 school, if her teacher was not in her place, she 
 bade them o-ood ni^^ht. 
 
 But Eachel lingered still, and as she sat down 
 by Miss Clemmer, the latter spoke, as if resuming 
 a former conversation. "Ihave no fear for the 
 thoroughness of this change in you, Rachel, but 
 you must never go back. I can not think that 
 the hour of wishing to do so will ever come to 
 you ; but I trust you will place such barriers be- 
 tween yourself and the world that you can not 
 get back. Make your position so assured before 
 the world, take steps so strong and decided, show 
 
164 Anna Maylie. 
 
 so plainly and unmistakably which side you are 
 on, that you can not go back. I want you to be 
 such a brave Christian, dear Eachel, glad to con- 
 fess 3^our Saviour in every place and situation. 
 And never be afraid to name the name of Jesus. 
 Accustom yourself to saying it often. It does the 
 world good to hear the blessed name spoken 
 frankly and reverently. I am sorry that it does 
 not oftener hear it from the lips of His followers 
 of the present day. 'I love Jesus,' carries pow- 
 er with it. We listen quietly, and wholly un- 
 moved to hear one say, ^ I have made a profession 
 of religion, so many years,' but the child of God 
 who says, instead, 'Hove Jesus,' thrills our souls. 
 And, Rachel, I was glad to see you studying our 
 little Anna. Take a lesson from her, work for 
 Jesus, and so keep your own heart warmed and 
 lighted. Anna is a practical Christian. She is 
 at work daily and hourly. You can see from 
 her own simple, unconscious account, that every 
 place she is in, every person she influences, bears 
 
Premonitions, 165 
 
 testimony to her zeal in the Master's cause. I 
 wish that a measure of her spirit might be laid on 
 you, Rachel, who have talents, w^ealth, and wide 
 opportanities. Remember this : If you wish to 
 know the length and breadth, and hight and 
 depth of God's love, Rachel, devote your life to 
 His work." 
 
 Rachel heard her through with humble atten- 
 tion. " I will," she said, as she rose to go. 
 " My religion is not happiness, like Anna's ; 
 it is obedience, but — thank God — it is also peace." 
 
. ^-^ . 
 
 -^--^ w ^-^ ' 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 EEX. 
 
 TEUST that none of my readers 
 will doubt that religion has power to 
 satisfy the hunger and thirst of the soul, 
 and to fill its void, because Anna May- 
 lie, who was so joyous at first in her love for Je- 
 sus, has not seemed happier in her every - day 
 life. But I think those of you who truly love 
 God are not at a loss to understand Anna. 
 Do you not call to mind what her Saviour said 
 when He was on earth? — "My Father woiketh 
 hitherto, and I work." And the spirit of the 
 
Rex, 167 
 
 Father and the Son has rested upon every child 
 of His who has since been born into the kins:- 
 dom. An earnest desire to work for the Master 
 is the very life - breath of all who are truly His. 
 Not the twelve alone did he send out into the 
 world with the divine commission to work ; the 
 same burning zeal has been felt by all his true 
 disciples through the centuries. It was because 
 she, too, had heard the voice of the Lord of the 
 vineyard, and did not know where to go to work, 
 and how, that Anna Maylie was discontented. 
 
 I think I have erred in saying she did not know 
 where her work was ; for her deepest longing was 
 very distinct indeed. She simply did not know 
 how to raise her own dear ones, and the ne- 
 glected families of the Common, up into the 
 light. 
 
 How many a character which has shed its light 
 all over the v/orld lay inert and undeveloped until 
 the love of Jesus was breathed upon it ! I be- 
 lieve that Anna Maylie too would have lived and 
 
168 Anna Maylie* 
 
 died an unknown, common - place woman if this 
 life - giving love of Jesus had not reached her. 
 It was this which was rapidly developing her en- 
 ergies and self- reliance ; this which urged her to 
 disturb and rouse others from the lethargy of a 
 useless life. 
 
 The improvement in Anna's character had be- 
 come visible to every one by this time. She had 
 also gTeatly improved in personal appearance, for 
 her religion had really refined her ; and you never 
 saw it fail to refine its possessor, did you ? And 
 our Anna came of good stock, — not rough, not 
 course, only rustic and uncultivated. 
 
 The desolateness of her home had never seemed 
 60 dreary, the deprivations and the uncomplain- 
 ing self-denial of her mother so pitiful, the degra- 
 dation of her father so dreadful as it all seemed to 
 her now, day after day, with that revealing light 
 from heaven falling upon it all. Especially did 
 the wild state in which her little brothers were 
 growing up weigh upon her. That appeared to 
 
Rex, 169 
 
 her a sin which a sister who was a Sunday- 
 school scholar, — to say nothing of being a Chris- 
 tian, — might well be called upon to answer for. 
 She prayed earnestly to God to fit her for this 
 work at home, and then went on brooding drea- 
 rily enough over it at night. 
 
 But every morning she woke with a refreshed 
 faith. Surely as came the morning light, 
 came also the feeling that, sometime, some- 
 way, God would enable her to accomplish this 
 work. She now never once commenced a new 
 day without a firm resolution to honor Jesus all 
 day long in everything she did. Although her 
 occupations were all so humble, she felt that the 
 admonition of St. Paul : " And whatsoever ye do, 
 do it heartily, as to the Lord," applied just as 
 closely to her, with her homely duties, as it did 
 to the Christians who stood in the high places of 
 of the world, like Dr. Mason or Miss Clem^ 
 mer. 
 
 And so, as there was no great duty in sight, 
 
170 A7ina Maylie, 
 
 spent her great resolve and her great faithfulness 
 in being thorough at her simple, every - day work. 
 She labored hard, when she was at home, all day 
 long at the housework in the old brown house. 
 And her religion did make a difference there. 
 She had always been what is called " neat," but 
 now the humble dwelling was a very pattern of 
 tidiness. So thorough was this tidiness that her 
 mother had no longer to go about " bringing up 
 the ends" when she found a half- day to spend at 
 home. Anna also took upon herself another ad- 
 ditional duty, which had always fallen upon her 
 mother to do in those hours which she sadly 
 needed for sleep. Studying every plan which 
 would lighten her mother's labors and better the 
 condition of the family, she systematically de- 
 voted a portion of every day to mending and re- 
 pairing. Her father, and Jacky, and Jim, should 
 no longer go ragged. Besides, she worked many 
 hours amoni^: the wilderness of neo^lected shrub- 
 bery ; she cleared the large yard of litter of all 
 
Rex. 171 
 
 kinds, and ventured to expend a trifle of the mon- 
 ey she had earned for a few panes of glass. 
 
 But always at night she felt dissatisfied with 
 herself again ; for how could she dare to call this 
 simple home service " work for Jesus ? " 
 
 Yet I know it was so written down in the 
 records of heaven. For the Master never passes 
 over anything, however trifling, which is per- 
 formed in such an earnest spkit. And, doubt it 
 not, the duty nearest at hand is always the one 
 the Lord would have us perform first. And 
 in after years, Anna could see that this humble 
 school had disciplined her in the thoroughness 
 which she needed, when she came to do more im- 
 portant business. And in after years, too, when 
 she remembered that it was her hand which first 
 turned Rex toward a better life, she saw that all 
 this while she had really been, unconsciously to 
 herself, doing that great work for Jesus which 
 she craved, and that through all her work His 
 thoughts had indeed been higher than her 
 
172 Anna Maylie, 
 
 thoughts. The Lord was really leading her, 
 though she knew it not. 
 
 Her days of out - door labor in the Clemmer 
 grounds were no such fairy days as ahe had im- 
 agined, but they were, after all, her best days. 
 Johnson had grown to like to have her there ; he 
 could not resist her steady patience under re- 
 proof, her genuine pleasure in his favorite work, 
 and her growing handiness and , good taste ; and 
 she passed many a pleasant hour listening to his 
 little dogmatic lectures upon gardening, and his 
 accounts of old times in England. She felt, too, 
 that the money she earned was no small help at 
 home, and, on the whole, she was really sorry 
 when the last day of picking strawberries came to 
 an end ; and she felt much relieved when he told 
 her there would soon be more work than ever for 
 her to do, in order to keep the runners cut ofif and 
 the beds weeded and hoed. 
 
 The noon sun was beating down with burning 
 
Rex, 173 
 
 rays, but, instead of going the near way home 
 through the alleys, she went, as she often had, a 
 mile round, — away off up the wide, handsome 
 streets which led by great houses and their broad 
 grounds, and then down through a fine portion of 
 the town where there were so many mechanic's 
 cottages. There were those neat, practical gar- 
 dens, — every inch of ground improved, — which 
 she liked to contemplate and study. Pausing 
 here, walking slowly there, she was often an hour 
 going home when the regular walk could have 
 been accomplished in ten minutes. 
 
 To- day, in her strange pleasure stroll, she was 
 brought to a sudden stand in front of the grounds 
 belong to Prof. Kinney, the Principal of the pub- 
 lic schools. For there, receiving and marking 
 down the boxes of berries brought to him by the 
 troops of children, stood Eex Palmer. He saw 
 her too ; but merely pausing to make her an ex- 
 aggerated bow, with a great wave of his new 
 straw hat, he kept on at his work. 
 
174: Anna May lie. 
 
 Anna's heart gave a glad bound as she went 
 on, and she knew not why she felt so strong and 
 rested. 
 
 " Tally one for Eex ! '' she cried. " He didn't 
 take my ' shaming' ! " 
 
 It is true that surprises scarcely ever come 
 singly. On reaching home, the first thing that 
 struck Anna as she opened the door, was a sin- 
 gular - looking package lying on the table. Her 
 mother was not there to explain it, but she soon 
 saw that it was directed to herself, and she has- 
 tily cut the wrapping twines. It was books, — 
 books which had been used, but which also had 
 been very nicely kept. There was a Sanders's 
 Fourth Reader, a Thompson's Practical Arith- 
 metic, a Brown's Grammar, a Mitchel's Geogra- 
 phy and Atlas, a Spencerian copy - book, a 
 slate, a package of pens and pencils, and a tiny 
 note. 
 
 She seized upon the note eagerly, and read 
 it: 
 
Bex. 175 
 
 '* Say to Rex Palmer, that, back of these 
 books, and waiting for him, lie algebras and 
 sciences, grammars and lexicons, and, if he will, 
 diplomas and degrees." 
 
 Anna's veins were fit to burst with the bound- 
 ing blood. "It is so I " she cried. "It is so, if 
 Eex will have it so ! I do n't understand what 
 all the words mean ; but if Eex only would, Iif 
 can do it all ! " 
 
 She picked up the signatureless note again. 
 But of course she could not recognize the hand. 
 For all she could tell, it might be any one, — 
 any one except the one most likely to do such a 
 thing. But it was not Miss Clemmer ; for she 
 had a scrap of her writing lying treasured in her 
 pearl work-box, — a pretty, graceful, Italian 
 hand ; while this writing, elegant also, was 
 bolder and clearer. She opened the books and 
 scanned the fly - leaves ; they had evidently borne 
 a name, but in each book it had been carefully 
 erased. 
 
176 Anna Maylie. 
 
 When her mother came in^ she questioned her 
 eagerly to learn who brought them ; but they had 
 been left by the City Delivery wagon, with 
 charges paid. So there was no clue. But of one 
 thing Anna felt no doubt. She had no doubt 
 whatever that it was a du-ect recognition and a 
 direct approval of her work and her longings, by 
 her Father in heaven. "It seems wonderful," 
 she said, " but yet it is nothing strange at all. 
 Of course the Lord will answer prayer. I won- 
 der what Rex will say ; I wonder what he will 
 do ! " 
 
 Her gladness and eagerness grew into positive 
 nervousness as night approached ; and she heard 
 Eex's very first step as he came round the corner. 
 She was standing in the door, but he passed di- 
 rectly through their own gate without giving any 
 sign that he saw her. "I wonder if he's so 
 vexed as that!" she mused, "and if he never 
 intends to come in here again ! And I have such 
 news for him too? Well, I do n't care; if he 
 
Rex. 177 
 
 do n't, I shall go over there, that's all." And 
 she tried very hard to be calm. 
 
 But just as Anna was lighting the candle, she 
 heard the gate swing to, and there was Rex, just 
 as careless and unconcerned as if he had been in 
 there every day. She noticed at the very first 
 glance, — and it gave her a strange feeling of en- 
 couragement, — how very nicely his hair was 
 brushed, and the clean shirt - sleeves and the un- 
 wonted presence of a necktie showed what pains 
 he had taken to look well. It was nothing to 
 speak of, of course, except that it was something 
 entirely new for Rex Palmer to do. He threw 
 himself down in the door - way with a pleasant 
 good evening for her mother, and a bow accompa- 
 nied with one of the old- time grimaces for her- 
 eelf." 
 
 "No, Rex, come in," she said; "I've 
 got something to show you," pointing to the 
 table. 
 
 " Hello here I " He picked up the books, one 
 
178 Anna Maylie. 
 
 by one, and then laid them down, and then tools 
 them up again. " So you 're going to school, 
 are you, Anna? And that is what you've been 
 earning money for, is it? " 
 
 She laughed slyly and handed him the nott . 
 He puzzled a little over the elegant handwriting, 
 but he soon mastered it. Anna stood eagerly 
 watching his face ; and at first there was a great 
 light on it as he read and re - read the note, but 
 presently the fire in his eyes died out, and a tide 
 of red turned his sun - burned face as dark as an 
 Indian's. He turned angrily upon her : "You 
 been beo^o^ino^ for me ? " 
 
 " Eexford Palmer ! I must say you 're grate- 
 ful ! No, indeed, I have n't been begging for 
 
 you ! " 
 
 Anna was angrier than he, — angrier than she 
 had been for many a day. But his tone and 
 manner were past endurance. She went on : 
 " I 've not the slightest idea who sent them ; but 
 I feel quite sure that it was some one who do n't 
 
Bex, 179 
 
 know you as well as I do ! If you had been well 
 known, you might — " 
 
 She stopped short, and turned away. Had she 
 not, after all, enough of her Master's spkit to bear 
 the first trifling injustice? Here she had lost 
 her temper at the first unpleasant word that had 
 been spoken to her for days. Poor Anna ! She 
 stood there so utterly humiliated and penitent, 
 that she lost, for the moment, all interest in Rex's 
 welfare, and all heart in life. It was only a 
 moment until Rex felt heartily ashamed of his 
 rudeness, and sorry for it. He said in a very 
 gentle voice, — 
 
 " Where did you get these, Anna?" 
 " They were left here by the City Delivery, 
 mother said, while I was gone ; and I know noth- 
 ing else about the matter. And it is none of my 
 business that I know of," she was about to add, 
 but checked herself. Was she so near telling a 
 falsehood as that? Would one sin lead so soon 
 to another sin ? For was it not her business ? 
 
180 Anna 3faylie. 
 
 Had she not prayed long . and earnestly over tliia 
 matter of liis going to school? — prayed that the 
 way would open, and means be provided? Would 
 she now dare say that it was nothing to her, in 
 the very face of those prayers ? 
 
 They were both mute for a time, and then Eex 
 said, in a frank, genuine way that would have 
 won anybody's forgiveness at once, — " Anna, I 
 think I 've acted like a brute ! Somebody, evi- 
 dently, has been very kind, and I ought to ap 
 predate it. I did n't know before that Eex Palm- 
 er was ever mentioned, or thought of, by — by 
 anybody like the writer of this note. I thought 
 at first, — forgive me, Anna, — that you must 
 have been to somebody and made a pitiful state- 
 ment of my needs ; and I could n't stand it. I 'm 
 as poor as poverty can make white folks, I knovr ; 
 but I never did take kindly to second hand 
 things, or, indeed, presents of any kind. But 
 this is very kind, and I really do appreciate. 
 it." 
 
Hex. 181 
 
 " I m glad you feel so, Eex, for you needed 
 these books so." 
 
 " Not quite so bad as you may think, Misa 
 Anna. Look here ! " 
 
 He took a little dirty roll from his vest pocket, 
 and picked it out, straight and smooth, before her 
 eyes, — a five dollar bill and a two. 
 
 "Five — and two — seven dollars, and you 
 earned that, Eex?" 
 
 " You did n't suppose I stole it, or somebody 
 gave it to me ? " he added with a touch of the old 
 scorn. " Yes, I earned it." 
 
 Anna's heart was yet sore with the pain of 
 their brief quarrel, and she would n't ask him any 
 more questions ; but finally he grew humble and 
 told his story. He had determined in some way 
 to attend school, and at once made a bold plunge 
 into the difficulties which stood in his way ; went 
 straight to the Principal's house and told him he 
 wished to earn some money to buy school-books, 
 and asked him if he could give him any work to 
 
182 Anna Mat/lie, 
 
 do, — sawing wood, or the like. Prof. Kanney 
 looked at the boy in the ragged hat a moment ; 
 he liked liis clear, brave, gray eye, and he told 
 him he had such work to do, because the man 
 in his employ was not over punctual. So in five 
 minutes after ringing the bell, Rex was at work 
 upon a three days' job. Then he was sent into 
 the garden to do various kinds of rough work, 
 and finally he had been promoted to oversee the 
 strawberry harvest. At one kind of work and 
 another he had earned seven dollars at Prof. Kin- 
 ney's. 
 
 " So you see, Miss Anna, I can buy my own 
 books, — at least those I need now. And by the 
 time I come to Latin, as she says," — he added 
 with a curious tone of pride and reverence, ten- 
 derly touching the note which he had laid back 
 upon the books, — " by the time I come to Latin, 
 — why, a fellow that is too shiftless to earn his 
 books won't be able to make much use of Latin 
 and Greek, and he better let 'em alone I What 
 
Bex, 183 
 
 do you think, anyway?" he ad Jed, tired of her 
 silence. " Honestly, now? " 
 
 "Well, Ecx, if you won't be vexed at me, I 
 think as I did at first ; — that you ought to be 
 very glad of these books. A boy of your age, 
 almost nineteen, just beginning school, ought to 
 have the very best start he can, — an extra start 
 if possible. You do n't want to be hampered 
 with anything, — ragged clothes, or anything. 
 You can't study, or recite so w^ell, or under- 
 stand so w^ell, if you are all the time feeling how 
 that great patch on your knee shows, and how 
 ragged your vest is. I 've been there, Rex, and 
 I know. And you '11 be a year behind time if 
 you have to get your education barefoot. Oh, I 
 know, Rex," she added with a painful flush on 
 her face ; and the tears came springing into her 
 eyes at the bitter recollections. " Maybe you 
 would n't think it, but I believe in good clothes, 
 — that is, I believe that they have a use, a moral 
 use, as Miss Clemmer would say. I know when 
 
184 Anna May lie. 
 
 I went to school, — and Kex, I used to have 
 to borrow my books, or * look over' with 
 somebody. I used to think I could have learned 
 twice as fast if I had had a warm, bright, plaid 
 dress like Mary King's ; my calico dress was so 
 old, and in the middle of winter it would always 
 look so thin and light colored, and it mortified me 
 so, and it always would take my mind off from 
 my lessons at recitations. I would like to save 
 you this. So, Rex, if you want my advice, you 
 will look at it as I do, — that the Lord has cer- 
 tainly stretched out His hand to help you get an 
 education, and you will accept these books as 
 His gift. When you started out and showed 
 yourself energetic, and in earnest about the mat- 
 ter, then He came to your aid, and so He always 
 will. And now. Rex, I want you to go down 
 town and buy yom'self a neat vest, and a couple 
 of pairs of ready-made cotton pants, — some- 
 thins: with a small check that will wash and iron 
 well, — and a pair of shoes, and some socks and 
 
Rex, 185 
 
 collars." And Anna stopped, half out of breath, 
 and waited for a reply. 
 
 But Rex did n't say whether he would or 
 would n't. He sat turning over one book after 
 another. " I wish I could know who sent these ; 
 — but it was evidently intended that I should 
 not, for the name is rubbed out in every one of 
 them. Hello here ! — let me see — what's 
 this?" 
 
 For the light had fallen on the fly - leaf in such 
 a way that, although the lead - marks of the writ- 
 ing were wholly erased, the print of the letters 
 was partially revealed. Rex scanned it closely. 
 " M — there a capital M, sure's you live ! And 
 I believe this other capital is an R," he added 
 after a while ; " but the small letters I can't make 
 out at all." 
 
 Anna knew very well now ; should she tell 
 him? She decided that it was not best, for she 
 could not tell what fresh scruple his pride might 
 raise. 
 
186 Anna 31 ay lie. 
 
 During the conversation which followed, all 
 the while he was giving her an account of the 
 strawberry harvest at Prof. Kinney's, he was still 
 handling and looking over the books and once, in 
 the middle of a sentence, he interrupted himself, 
 — " I shall have to buy a Colburn's Mental Arith- 
 metic anyway, and I will get a sack of flour for 
 Lute, too." So Anna concluded that he was 
 thinking favorably of her advice. Nothing far- 
 ther was said respecting his earnings, but when 
 he went home he gathered up the books. 
 
 That night, when Anna was sitting in her own 
 chamber with her Bible open before her, there 
 came over her a vivid remembrance of Miss 
 Clemmer's tender encouragement, — the patient 
 waiting after planting for the seed to spring up. 
 She marveled that she had grown impatient to see 
 it so soon, and she set herself anew to learn the 
 lesson of patience and faith. She felt that she, 
 even she, had a thanksgiving to offer for special 
 answer to prayer. She resolved that hereafter 
 
Bex, 
 
 187 
 
 she would work in every direction, and sow the 
 good seed in every spot, however barren and 
 seemingly unpromising, and quietly leave it to 
 rest beneath the sunshine of His promise and the 
 early and the latter rain which she now felt was 
 Bure to fall. 
 
CHAPTER Xm. 
 
 A SABBATH EVENING. 
 
 HE summer wore on, but brought 
 few visible changes ; and Anna Maylie 
 had hoped for so manj. Her hands 
 still ached with their emptiness, and her 
 eyes with beholding nothing. In her zeal, and 
 in her sorrow over the ignorance and darkness 
 and painful life with which she was surrounded, 
 she could pray and look for nothing less than 
 miracles ; the very miracles of Jerusalem and 
 Galilee would not have been too much for her de- 
 
A Sahhath Evening » 189 
 
 sire. With the progress of Rex Palmer she was 
 indeed satisfied, and with good reason. Slie had 
 never ceased to look upon him as her direct an- 
 swer to prayer, and he did not fail to keep her 
 faith in her one good work alive. His progress 
 was rapid. His clear, gray eye, with its pierc- 
 ing ray, had not deceived Prof. Kinney. As 
 he grew thorough in his studies, he grew 
 thorough at home also. Though Anna would 
 not have thought of tracing it back to herself, 
 poor Lute Palmer had many a comfort that sum- 
 mer to thank Anna May lie's ^ praying, working 
 religion for. Anna will never realize it, maybe, 
 until in heaven she gathers in her rewards for all 
 the good which she has accomplished, not only 
 by her direct deeds, but also for that good which 
 others, acting under her influence, have done. 
 Now, Rex never thouMit of o'oino: to school until 
 the day's supply of wood was sawed and split, 
 and the water brouo;ht. I think he could never 
 before have realized what it must be for his sister 
 
190 Anna Maylie, 
 
 to support them all, even in such miserable style 
 as it was, for now he had the manliness to accept 
 it no longer. Every night found him at work 
 somewhere, at something, it mattered not what. 
 Not every barrel of flour, not every load of wood, 
 did poor Lute sew for now. Insensibly their 
 house had grown tidier too, and more attractive, 
 both within and without. But to Anna, every- 
 thing, save Eex, remained the same. 
 
 Miss Clemmer had recovered, and was now al- 
 most always with her class, but Anna's loving 
 eye could not fail to see that she grew more 
 delicate, and she visited Morristown Common 
 much less frequently than in other days. It 
 w^as now months since Miss Clemmer first invited 
 her girls, yet only Rachel and she attended the 
 little Friday evening prayer meetings. 
 
 Her mother could not yet attend church, for 
 tlie old want of means to make a respectable ap- 
 pearance. " The best I can do, daughter, is to 
 get you ready, and read my Bible at home," she 
 
A Sahhaih Evening, 191 
 
 said. Her brothers seemed as untamable aa 
 ever ; her father drank just as much brandy. 
 
 But there was a change going on everywhere. 
 And it would have been perceptible to one less 
 ardent than Anna, showing that prayer was 
 heard, always heard and heeded. Even in Miss 
 Clemmer's class there was a change, which Miss 
 Clemmer could perceive, even if Anna failed to 
 do so. Rachel also saw that Fanny Howl and 
 and Satie Marsh were betraying a far more seri- 
 ous interest in all the services of the church. 
 Even in that large congregation. Dr. Mason had 
 come to notice their attentive young faces, Sab- 
 bath after Sabbath. They had, too, almost 
 ceased to shun Rachel's society, as they had so 
 evidently done after she united with the church. 
 And although she had not counted it, or recog- 
 ■^uzed it, during the many eclipses of faith 
 through which ghe groped, Anna, too, must have 
 felt a difference at Sabbath School in their de- 
 meanor toward herself. To be sure, the differ- 
 
192 Anna Maylte. 
 
 ence was denoted by trifles, — like the quiet pasa 
 in 2^ of a fan, the cfierins; to share a sin^finof book 
 with her, the smile and the pleasant word which 
 they voluntarily added when she was talking 
 with Rachel, the happening to walk with her to 
 the corner. But girls will understand the influ- 
 ence upon each other of these small, sweet cour- 
 tesies of life. 
 
 At home too, just as really, there was a 
 change. For now Jacky and Jim would some- 
 times ask her for a Bible story when they were 
 staying in the house because it was raining, and 
 had learned, too, to sing some of her Sunday 
 school hymns. This they rather liked ; and the 
 deepest impression she had made upon them was 
 one day when Jacky suddenly asked her if there 
 really was any such place as a " Happy Land, far, 
 far away." To her surprise, he seemed greatly 
 impressed with i\\e idea that, when he came to 
 die, he would enter another world, and live 
 again, still be Jacky May lie, and be happy or 
 
A Sahhath Evening, 193 
 
 miserable just according to the way he had lived 
 in this life. There was no shocking commentary 
 on this, and no street slang. He stood looking 
 at her more solemnly than she thought Jacky 
 ever could look ; and when he walked off with 
 little Jim, it was not with a leap and a shout ; 
 and Anna wondered if she had not made a mis- 
 take ; if it would not have been better to trust 
 them a little more and talk to them directly of 
 God, and heaven, and Jesus, and the life to come. 
 There was, too, an improvement in their gen- 
 eral behavior, especially at meals. They were 
 not so boisterous ; they really began to show the 
 influence of their sister's nicely - laid table, and 
 her particular manners, and her personal refine- 
 ment. She was consistent ; and no one appreci- 
 ates consistency as children do ; nothing will in- 
 fluence children like consistency. Anna was 
 always as thoughtful and particular in her ob- 
 servances at the table, even when, as it some- 
 times happened, there was nothing placed upon it 
 
194 Anna Maylie, 
 
 save a plate of potatoes, a cellar of salt and their 
 cups of cold water. But Anna, — I can not re- 
 frain from mentioning it, ^ invariably managed 
 that this spare meal, when it must be thus spare 
 and uninviting, should be the dinner, when she 
 and the boys were alone ; the breakfasts and the 
 suppers, which their mother was to share with 
 them, were much more nourishing and tempting, 
 if Anna could possibly compass it. She had such 
 a pitiful, heart - breaking longing to make life 
 more comfortable for her mother, and in various 
 little ways she was constantly contriving small 
 pleasures and comforts for her. From her 
 wages, which she faithfully first tithed and then 
 handed to her mother for the family expenses, 
 fihe now and then retained a stray twenty - five 
 cent piece, that she might purchase the tiny quar- 
 ter - pound of tea which she knew her mother 
 would always forego when the family needs were 
 over - many. 
 
 And though, as I said before, IVIrs. Maylie 
 
A Sabbath Evening* 195 
 
 could not yet attend church, a better dress had 
 been bought and laid aside for Sunday wear ; yet 
 as shoes, bonnet, shawl and gloves were still 
 lacking, the dress did not encourage Anna as 
 perhaps it ought. 
 
 Though you might not have been able to spec- 
 ify it, there certainly was also a change in Tom 
 Maylie. Not that he visited the corner saloon 
 any the less, but that sometimes became home 
 earlier and soberer; and, however he might treat 
 the rest of his family, he never now scolded or 
 snubbed Anna, and he invariably enforced all 
 her requests upon Jacky and Jim. Two or three 
 times, poor Mrs. May lie's ever - watchful eye 
 had caught him looking around almost sadly 
 upon the dilapidated house and the broken fences. 
 He even, one day, brought home a pair of 
 new hinges, and rehung the old gate which had 
 been torn down by the frantic efforts of a cow, 
 which had broken in, to break out, and had been 
 discovered and attacked simultaneously by Mary 
 
196 Anna Maylie, 
 
 and Min Palmer, and Jacky and Jim. And 
 once, lately, coming into possession of an unusu- 
 ally large sum of money for some service ren- 
 dered at the saloon, he appropriated, in the flush 
 of possessing so much money, a certain portion 
 of it for a sack of flour, — a contribution to the 
 family support which he had not made before 
 for years. Of late, too, he had never failed to 
 look pleased when he saw Anna dressed for 
 church, and more than once, on Sunday, had he 
 sent Jacky and Jim home from some street corner. 
 
 Is not the frost of the long, dreary winter 
 coming forth, and are not the spring rains mellow- 
 ing the soil, O impatient Anna? 
 
 Sabbath afternoon, especially that pleasant 
 part of it which comes after tea, had grown to be 
 the most delightful portion of the whole week 
 to Anna and her mother. The First church Sab- 
 bath school owned a good library, well stored 
 with both the old and new publications of several 
 different publishing houses, and of late Anna 
 
A Sabbath Evening, 197 
 
 had exercised particular care, in selecting books, 
 to choose such as would interest her mother when 
 she came to read them aloud during those pleas- 
 ant " after - teas." This was the only time through 
 the whole week when poor Mrs. Maylie could 
 sit for two or three of the hours of daylight, and 
 all the evening, in her cushioned rocking - chair, 
 and rest ; and it was her greatest pleasure then 
 to hear Anna read. Lately too, Jacky and Jim 
 had lingered around home after supper, and 
 Anna's coaxing, and the good - natured authority 
 of Hex, who nearly always came over, would 
 avail to keep them inside the gate for the remain- 
 ing portion of the day. Quite often too. Lute 
 and her little sisters would come over with Rex, 
 or else follow him. The pleasant conversation, 
 the animated readings, — for Anna could read 
 Sunday - school books better than she could read 
 anything else, — which she could hear through 
 the open doors and windows, and the pleasant 
 picture which they made sometimes when they all 
 
198 Anna Maylie. 
 
 sat out under the old maples, was too much for 
 Lute to resist. Nowhere else on Morristown 
 Common was there anything so attractive and 
 refined. Anna made them all welcome, and 
 strove hard to strengthen those sweet Sabbath 
 influences. It was not long before the question, 
 as to what Anna's next Sunday - school book 
 would be, was of as great interest to Lute as to 
 Mrs. Maylie. 
 
 Lately too, Anna felt very sure that Kex at- 
 tended church somewhere, for she had met, or 
 passed him often up - town at the hour of serv- 
 ice, wearing that serious and respectable air 
 by which it is possible to distinguish the very- 
 humblest church - goer from the mere lounger on 
 the street. But she refrained from questioning 
 him ; indeed she now never urged his confidence ; 
 the days of " stirring up" and lecturing had long 
 Bince gone by. 
 
 This particular Sabbath afternoon a heavy 
 
A Sahhath Evening, 199 
 
 thunder storm had come up during tea, and the 
 rain still continuing, Mr. May lie, who was quite 
 sober, had not gone out as usual, but had thrown 
 himself upon the lounge and fallen asleep. Rex 
 had come over, and it being rather too dark for 
 reading easily, and not sufficiently late for lights, 
 they quietly sat and talked, — Anna idly chanting 
 portions of a Sentence which the school was prac- 
 ticing to sing as a farewell to their superintend- 
 ent, Esquire Rowland, who was about to leave 
 for a tour through Europe, expecting to be gone 
 a long time. Something about the music inter- 
 ested Rex, and she sang it through for him. 
 
 "I do n't get the idea now," he said ; "let's see 
 the book." 
 
 Together they tried the piece, but they made 
 sad work of it, — Jacky sitting directly in front 
 of them and persisting in accompanying them in 
 spite of all their remonstrances. Neither Rex 
 nor Anna seemed to have any natural sense of the 
 recitative in singing, and, though now and then 
 
200 Anna Maylie. 
 
 Anna's accenting was very good, a fragmentary 
 reminiscence of the Saturday night's practicing, — 
 the general discord and failure were indescriba- 
 bly harrowing to a cultivated ear. 
 
 Finally, Mr. Maylie sprang up. 
 
 "My goodness, Anna ! You do n't tell me that 
 you sing at your Sunday Schools ? I never heard 
 anything quite so barbarous ! Have you no idea of 
 time, whatever? See here now! — ^What's the 
 words? — 'The Lord bless thee, and keep thee.' " 
 
 A voice grand as an organ chanted the sentence 
 through for them. There was a dead silence in 
 the room. 
 
 " There ! Now let me give you that bar I 
 heard you trying, Eex, — ^ The Lord lift up the 
 light of his countenance upon thee.' " 
 
 Hex looked in absolute surprise at poor, drunk- 
 en Tom Maylie, standing there with a master's 
 frown, and singing too with a master's voice. 
 Anna never once took her eyes from her father's 
 transformed face ; she felt that even so might 
 
A Sabbath Evening » 201 
 
 have looked and suno^ the Jewish leaders of the 
 mighty antiphonal choirs at the dedication of 
 Solomon's temple. 
 
 " If you would sing the line through once more 
 for me, Mr. Maylie?" Rex respectfully re- 
 quested. Without a word, he crossed the floor 
 and sat down in the chair which Rex had va- 
 cated, and took the book and sang the part. 
 
 "Now sing it with me," he said, "by note. 
 Beat the time. Now ! " 
 
 Jacky and Jim had retreated to their mother's 
 chair and were standing there in respectful si- 
 lence, and she moved out of range of her hus- 
 band's eyes, was weeping, loyal yet to every re- 
 membrance and association of his better days. 
 
 " Now by word ! " and still beating time, he 
 earned Rex through the stately bar triumphantly. 
 
 Then he turned to Anna. " Now for you. 
 Sis. Could 'n't you carry the soprano alone, 
 think? No? Well, let me render it for you, so 
 that you may have the correct idea to work up 
 
202 Anna Maylie, 
 
 to. — There ! that gives you a glimpse, at least, 
 of the composer's idea. Now try it with me." 
 
 Tremulously enough Anna's voice, usually so 
 clear and strong, now struck the words, — a slen- 
 der thread of silver sound gleaming along the 
 golden music of her father's full, majestic tones. 
 
 "A little more force, Sis, next time. Now, 
 all together once ! " 
 
 By this time Lute and M ry and Min had come 
 over, drawn there in spicf- of the rain, by the un- 
 usual harmony ; — it sounded over there like a 
 church choir. Lute said. But when they came in 
 they sat down without speaking ; for could it be 
 Tom Maylie ? and singing church music ? 
 
 But already the spell was dissolving ; he was 
 coming to himself, — back to the self of the later 
 years. He laid down the book, and the color 
 mounted to his forehead. With an uncertain 
 sweep of his hand through his hair, he said, not 
 meeting the eyes of any one in the room, but 
 looking from the window, — 
 
Kow all together. — Page 202. 
 
A jSahhath Evening, 203 
 
 " Well, I guess the rain is about over." 
 
 Anna knew too well that familiar casting of 
 
 his eyes about in search of his hat. " Oh no, 
 
 Father," she exclaimed, " It rains too hard to go 
 
 out to night, and I want you to help us practice, 
 
 — if you only would train Eex on that bass, 
 father ! " 
 
 He had risen, but it really was raining some 
 yet in the presence of the clear sunset. He re- 
 luctantly sat down again. Mrs. Maylie had 
 brouo-ht a light, and he fell to turnino^ over the 
 book as an old sinoer will. " Windham — Mear 
 
 — Coronation — China — why, I have n't seen 
 these old church tunes for years and years, — 
 not since I led in the old Baptist church, Laura I 
 Do you remember the old gallery ?" 
 
 Anna interrupted, — 
 
 " Here is Ariel, Father ; it is so triumphant 
 that I wish I could hear it once as you would 
 sing it ! " 
 
 Quite absorbed again, he settled back in his 
 
204 Anna Maylie, 
 
 chair and sang the piece for her. " And here is 
 earnest old Hebron," he added and struck the 
 key. " That goes back to the old days, do n't 
 it, Laura? " he said, with an absent smile, to his 
 wife. 
 
 She crowded back the tears and the chokingr 
 emotion. "I remember well how you used to 
 sing it, Tom. I wish the children could hear 
 their father once at the organ. Won't you give 
 them some of those old Episcopal chants ? " 
 
 He sat musing for a few moments, and then, 
 clear and lofty, the ^"^ Gloria in Excelsis'^ swelled 
 forth. Poor Mrs. Maylie 's eye kindled with an 
 unwonted fire, and, putting aside little Jim, she 
 leaned forward and joined her voice to his, — a 
 Bweet soprano, sweet, though faded, like her face, 
 and utterly failing upon now and then a high 
 note, — "flatting" she said, — but for clearness 
 and swiftness and distinctness of enunciation in 
 chanting, Anna had never heard anything like it. 
 And then the two gave their silent listeners chant. 
 
A Sabbath Evening, 205 
 
 Bentence, anthem, and requiem, one after another, 
 in a cultivated style which few attain ; and many 
 a self-satisfied musical amateur would have be- 
 come conscious of the false standard and their 
 own short - comings, if they could have listened 
 that night to the singing of drunken Tom Maylie 
 and his poor, faded wife, — the washer- woman of 
 Morristown Common. 
 
 But there came the fatal pause at last. He 
 had time to look about upon the humble walls 
 with their broken plastering, the pine table and its 
 tallow candle, his worn and shrinking wife, his 
 own threadbare garments ; and his air of dignity 
 and command seemed to fade visibly before their 
 eyes. He rose, opened the door and looked out ; 
 it was clear and starlit ; and, in spite of Anna's 
 plea to try " Siloam" with them, he had taken his 
 hat and was gone. 
 
 Jacky was the first to break the painful si- 
 lence. " There ! he's got off without my and 
 Jim's piece after all i I was going to have fa- 
 
206 Anna Maylie. 
 
 ther try ' Happy Land' after the rest of you got 
 throiigli with him." And very disappointed the 
 little fellow looked, too. 
 
 Anna sighed as she saw him really go round 
 the corner, and knew that it was all over, for that 
 night at least. But she turned back to the rest. 
 "Well, Jacky, it was too bad for you and poor 
 little Jim to have no share in such a splendid 
 father ! But here's me, and mother, and Rex, 
 and Mary, and little Min, left to sing with yet. 
 Come up here by the table. Lute, and we '11 all 
 sing * Happy Land.' Come, Mother, I shall 
 never let you off any more. Begin it, Eex ; now 
 sing, Jacky." 
 
 Loud and clear the old - fashioned Sunday - 
 school favorite rang out on the soft, still evening 
 air. Jacky and Jim both sang lustily, and the 
 sounds must have floated to the farthest house 
 on the Common, "I'll away to the Sunday - 
 school" followed, and while they were singing 
 that, Mrs. Petersham and Ginnie came in. As 
 
A 8ahbath Uvening, 207 
 
 Anna paused to speak with them, little Jim 
 looked up. 
 
 " I never awajed to Sunday - school ! " 
 
 "Why do n't you, then?" asked Rex of the 
 little fellow who stood between his knees. 
 
 " I do' no ; guess Anny never wanted me to ; 
 I do' no." 
 
 Jacky laughed outright. "Ho, ho! You'd 
 look fine at that thar swell school, — you and me, 
 Jim ! " And I can give you no adequate idea of 
 the strange, pained feeling in the sister's heart as 
 she heard it. 
 
 " Was you ever at any of 'em, Eex ? " asked 
 little Jim. 
 
 " Yes, I say, old fellow," put in Jacky, " why 
 do n't you go ? — you 're getting to be quite a 
 swell. My eyes ! how we does curl our hair I 
 and starches our collar ! and shines up our 
 boots ! " 
 
 "There, you hush up ! " exclaimed Mrs. May- 
 lie, taking him by the arm ; " this is great kmd 
 
208 Anna Maylie, 
 
 of talk for Sunday night, isn't it? You hush, 
 now ! " 
 
 "Anny, I wish you'd all sing that * Happy 
 Land' again if 'taint too much trouble," requested 
 Mrs. Petersham. " It did sound dreadful sweet 
 when we 's a - coming across the green ; the rain, 
 you know, has made the air oncommon clear. I 
 do n't know as I ever heerd it afore ; but some- 
 way it took me back to mother's funeral and the 
 way I felt then. Why, if there ain't Miss Green 
 and her Agnes ! Wait a minute, Anny ! Come 
 in here, 'Lizabeth ; they 're going to sing ! " 
 
 Mrs. Green and Agnes came in, and then 
 " Happy Land" was sung again, and then re- 
 peated, and so sweet was it, and so inspiring, 
 that the last time both Mrs. Green and Mrs. 
 Petersham joined in all such refrains as " Far, 
 far away," "Bright, bright as day." Their's was 
 a strange kind of singing, — half singing, half 
 humming ; but it brought the moisture to Anna's 
 eyes. 
 
A Sabbath Evening, 209 
 
 " I declare ! its quite like a meeting," whis- 
 pered Mrs. Green to Mrs. Petersham, while 
 Anna was consulting with Rex what next to sing. 
 Then followed the old Christmas hymn, — " While 
 Shepherds watched their flocks by night." 
 
 " That's a dreadful purty piece, do n't you 
 think so. Miss Maylie ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Maylie. "That was al- 
 ways a favorite of mine." 
 
 " Then you 've heerd it afore ? — I never 
 did." 
 
 A bright color had been coming and going on 
 Anna's cheeks for the last few moments, but she 
 resolved that she would speak. Her voice trem- 
 bled a little as she did. " It is a pretty piece, 
 Mrs. Green, but I have never thought that it 
 could be compared in any way with the real Tes- 
 tament story itself. I believe that you, and Mrs. 
 Petersham, and mother, will all think so too 
 when you come to hear them both together. 
 Would n't you like to have me read it aloud ? " 
 
210 Anna Maylie, 
 
 For a moment there was a constrained h — 
 ming, an embarrassed move, and then Mrs. 
 Petersham answered, — 
 
 "For my part, I'd Hke it. I never gets a 
 minnit's time now - a - days to even look 'tween 
 the leds of the Bible." 
 
 Anna handed the open Testament to Rex. — " I 
 am such a poor reader," she said. 
 
 Eex colored ; but he took it in a straightfor- 
 ward way, as if reading the Bible was indeed 
 nothing to blush for. And Anna felt that the 
 way in which he took the Book, sinner as he was, 
 and in the presence of his rough neighbors, spoke 
 volumes for the genuineness of his manhood. 
 How well he read those chapters too ! — with suf- 
 ficient action of voice and vivacity of tone to in- 
 terest his hearers, but not quite as he would have 
 read the account from any other book. One who 
 had ever heard of the Bible would have known 
 instinctively that it was the Bible from which Rex 
 was reading. 
 
A Sabbath Evening. 211 
 
 " And that was the way tlie Saviour of sinners 
 was born," said Anna, softly, as Rex laid down 
 the Book ; — "in no better place than any of our 
 houses here on the Common." 
 
 " Dear me ! — ^t want no better, was it ? " 
 mused Mrs. Petersham. 
 
 " And how much He was among poor folks 
 always," said Mrs. May lie, — " Always so kind 
 to them ! " 
 
 "You will be struck with that all the way 
 through the Testament," said Anna. " You wii\ 
 see that He was always followed by those who 
 were poor, and sick, and in trouble." 
 
 " He never was above 'tending to such as we, 
 was he ? How good it is to think of ! " sighed 
 Mrs. Petersham again. "I have allers meant to 
 get at the Bible some day, but I d' no as I ever 
 shall. I hope Ginnie '11 grow up different." 
 " Can Ginnie read ? " asked Anna. 
 " Oh, my, yes 1 Ginnie is quite a for'ard 
 scholard, — Ginnie is. She reads in readings now." 
 
212 Anna May lie, 
 
 " That Is nice. She is large enough now, Mrs. 
 Petersham, to be learning little verses out of the 
 Bible ; und then you know she '11 grow up fa- 
 miliar with it. I '11 teach her a verse to - night, 
 and Agnes too, Mrs. Green, if you would like it, 
 — and all the children, — why not? And then, 
 next Sunday night, if you will come over, I '11 
 hear them and explain to them as well as I can 
 what they mean. And we will teach them to 
 sing, too." 
 
 Anna said all this very modestly, but her eyes 
 were sharp to scan the mothers' faces. However, 
 there was little need for argument or inducement. 
 The poor women showed their gratitude and grat- 
 ification in every feature as she gathered the lit- 
 tle ones around her. They made too large a 
 class, — Mary, and Min, and Agnes, and Ginnie, 
 and Jacky, and Jim, — and she delegated a part 
 of the work to Rex. How each mother bent for- 
 ward to watch her child, and listened, and 
 prompted, first with an encouraging word and 
 
A Sabbath Evening, 213 
 
 tlien with a threatening gesture, following up a 
 frown with a coaxing smile ! And each little 
 girl, even Mary and Min, looked so solemn, and 
 was so bashful, and was obliged to say her verse 
 over with help so many times before she could 
 finally say it alone, that it was nearly ten o'clock 
 before the work was done. But each child, 
 when she at last did go home, was mistress of 
 that tender little verse : 
 
 "Suffer little children to come unto me, and 
 forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of 
 Heaven." 
 
 Each one could repeat it when she reached 
 home, excepting little Ginnie Petersham, who 
 had been greatly disconcerted all the time by the 
 frightful grimaces of Jacky Maylie, who would 
 persist, whenever Rex was not looking, in mak- 
 ing mouths at her behind Anna's back at the time 
 she was reciting. 
 
 There was a definite arrangement that the 
 children should be brought over the next Sabbath 
 
214 Anna Maylie, 
 
 evening, — Anna promising them a chapter from 
 her Sunday - school book, and to teach the little 
 ones to sing. Mrs. Green said she would have 
 both her children come, and would bring over 
 some chairs. Mrs. Petersham begged permission 
 to invite Mrs. Fish and her two girls. Anna was 
 conscious of a feeling of bewilderment at the rapid 
 growth and widening out of her little effort, but 
 «he -vculd not, dared not circumscribe it, and so 
 ■siie bade them extend an invitation to any one 
 they chose. But she drew a long breath as the 
 door closed, and Rex could not help observing 
 the grave and anxious look which settled upon 
 her face. 
 
 "Well, little girl," said he, "you have your 
 hands full, have n't you?" 
 
 " You ought to be able to help me, Rex." She 
 said it very gently. 
 
 A flush came up to his cheek. But he an- 
 swered in even a graver tone, — ^ 
 
 " Professor Kinney has often invited me to join 
 
A Sabbath Evening, 215 
 
 his Bible class, at the Fourth church, and 1 went 
 to - day, Anna. Please do n't mention it before 
 Lute, — or 1 do n't know as I care, either ! I 'm 
 sure it's the last thing to be ashamed of ! You 
 may depend, if you like, that I will come over 
 and help you in every way I can." 
 
 As Mrs. Green and Mrs. Petersham were 
 walking across the Common that night, the latter 
 said, breaking the silence when they were nearly 
 home, — 
 
 " I do n't know when I 've felt so good, and so 
 old-fashioned, as I do to-night. That Anny 
 May lie is a smart girl, is n't she ? " 
 
 " Wall, she is, now. How plain she did 
 make it seem that we poor folks had as good a 
 right to the Saviour as anybody else ; but I never 
 thought of it afore, how He was born in no bet- 
 ter place than our houses, and maybe not so 
 good, — did you ? " 
 
 "No 'Lizabeth, I never did I To tell the 
 truth, I never thought much about Him any 
 
216 Anna May lie, 
 
 way. But I 'm just going to read them chapters 
 over for myself this blessed night, if I can find 
 the Testament anywhere. You know Anny had 
 him read two different ones. And I did ache to 
 ask why it was called wise men in one, and 
 shepherds in the other, and if it was two differ- 
 ent sets of men." 
 
 " How foolish you was ! Why did n't you 
 ask? Next time, I should just make free. Say, 
 what d' you think ? — I 'm going to ask Miss 
 Harris to go." 
 
 "That's so! — and there's Miss Tyler and 
 Jane ! Why, we can get out a real company, 
 and how good it will seem ! " 
 
 "'Twill make Sunday seem more like what 
 they orter be, anyhow." 
 
CHAPTEE Xiy. 
 
 AMONG THE WEEDS. 
 
 HAT possesses you, Anna May- 
 lie, to stand out there in that hot 
 
 pile where he stood splitting wood in 
 the shade of an old apple - tree. 
 
 She smiled, and came over to the fence. How • 
 shadowy and cool it was there under the trees ! 
 They were fruit-trees, aged, mossy, half dead, 
 but they served a purpose still, for they kindly 
 sheltered and toned down the poverty and ruin of 
 
218 Anna Maylie* 
 
 the houses and the fences they grew among, un- 
 til that corner of Morristown Common was not 
 destitute of the picturesque to the eye of an ar- 
 tist, although it would have sorely fretted the eye 
 of a practical real estate agent, or an orderly 
 fruit - grower. 
 
 Rex came up to the fence, laughing. "I've 
 been watching you over there all this last hour, 
 Anna ; and I never did see anybody look quite so 
 cross. What is the matter? " 
 
 She turned away from him with something of 
 the expression he had named. " Morristown 
 Common is the matter. Our place, your place, 
 and all the neighbor's places ! I never did see 
 such a spot ; — the sun beats down just like a sea 
 of fire on that great dusty green, and the weeds, 
 and the bushes, and the thistles, and the whole 
 tangled breadth of the land here is so hot and so 
 dreadful ! " 
 
 " Well, it is rather like a jungle, that's so. 
 But why need you look so cross over it ? You 
 
Among the Weeds. 219 
 
 don't think you 're responsible for it, I hope?" 
 "No, I suppose not. And yet, Rex, I can't 
 get rid of a feeling that I am, — that in some way 
 Morristown Common is to be my especial work. 
 I feel, sometimes, until I am perfectly wild, that 
 I shall yet have to turn over every foot of land 
 there is here, and tear down these old houses and 
 build new ones. I believe I am going to be sick, 
 or something, Eex, for my feelings are so per- 
 fectly unaccountable and absurd ! " 
 
 " Oh no, Anna ! I should much more think 
 you had just been off up - town walking every 
 handsome street in the place. I suppose you 
 think you keep that precious recreation of yours 
 all to yourself; but I've seen you pacing along 
 many a time by one nice house after another, and 
 looking as if you could eat the gardens. What 
 ails you, Anna Maylie, anyway?" 
 
 For she had gone back several steps, and was 
 standing among the weeds, again looking around 
 her with that far - off, set look upon her face. 
 
220 Anna Maylie. 
 
 Suddenly she turned and spoke out with an en- 
 ergy that almost startled him : 
 
 " Eex, I believe I could do it ! " 
 
 "Do what?" 
 
 "I believe I could myself cultivate this 
 land." 
 
 Eex laughed immoderately. " I dare say. I 
 suppose girls' muscle is a very superior article ; 
 only as yet it has not been brought into market 
 extensively. I should very much like to hear 
 your plans, Anna, in detail. Let me see. There 
 is about three and a half — no, about four acres. 
 I suppose as you have had no experience with 
 plows and horses, and as there is so small a sur- 
 face to go over, you will prefer to spade it up 
 by hand. Is that what you propose ? " 
 
 It was so hard in the first faint flush of her 
 dawning purpose for Anna to hear his merciless 
 ridicule. She looked reproachfully at him and 
 turned away. The more truth his words con- 
 tained, the harder they were to bear. Of course, 
 
Among the Weeds, 221 
 
 plowing would have to be the very first thing 
 done ; of course, it was the only way in which 
 the sod and weeds could be turned under. She 
 had not thought of that. She had been thinking 
 only of the deep, mellow soil of the old Clemmer 
 gardens where she had worked easily for hours. 
 
 Rex was sorry for what he had done. He 
 shielded the bent head of the weeping girl from 
 Lute's observation, and said, very gently, — 
 
 "I did n't mean to make fun of you, Anna; 
 only your ideas always take away a fellow's 
 breath so I And this time — well — what did 
 you mean, any way, Anna?" 
 
 " I do n't mean anything, now, if the land 
 must first be plowed ; but, O Rex, I had a great 
 flash of what might be done here, — just for a 
 moment ! " 
 
 "I should like to hear what it was, Anna. 
 There might be something in it after all ; there 
 always has been something in your plans, 1 re- 
 member." 
 
222 Anna Maylie. 
 
 **Well, then, it was strawberries," Anna said, 
 humbly. " There is nothing at all on our land, 
 and it might all be used for just strawberries. 
 And I '11 tell you how I looked at it, Rex. If I 
 can work so well for Johnson, why might n't I 
 do something for myself? Instead of picking a 
 quart of the Clemmer strawberries for two cents, 
 why might n't I raise the berries and pay some- 
 body else two cents for picking mine, and then 
 sell the quart and have twenty - eight cents my- 
 self, instead of two? Johnson said he could 
 take thirty cents for every quart they had in the 
 garden." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose he could. But you are a 
 
 girl." 
 
 "Yes, a poor girl, too. So much the more 
 need then of my getting hold of a business with 
 money in it — sh ! " 
 
 For right upon them was Miss Mansfield. 
 She had come in through Anna's open gate and 
 had made her way toward them unobserved. 
 
Among the Weeds. 223 
 
 She smilingly reached out her hand for Anna's, 
 and, while she took and kept it, bowed to Rex. 
 " Mr. Rexford Palmer, I think," she said, easily 
 waiving all introductions. "You ought to be 
 very glad to see me, Anna, for I have w^alked a 
 mile in the sun to reach you. I thought of your 
 courage, working among the berries so many 
 such days as this." 
 
 " Under the circumstances I did n't find it so 
 unpleasant. I really thing it is hotter here. I 
 know you must need to sit down and rest. I am 
 glad to see you, Rachel." 
 
 She took Miss Mansfield over home. The 
 bare little room, almost empty as it was, and 
 shaded and protected by so many old trees, was 
 refreshingly dark and cool ; and Anna liked the 
 way Rachel laid aside her hat and sat down in 
 her mother's rocking - chair. How sweet and 
 simple, too, was her manner of accepting the 
 glass of water, and the old, worn, palm - leaf f'an 
 which Anna brought her. 
 
224 Anna Maylie, 
 
 " You never come and see me," she said, as 
 she leaned back, and idlj rocked with such a 
 pleasant appearance of resting ; " so I am obliged 
 to come round once in a while to get roused and 
 shaken up. I find that simply giving money to 
 hire the work done is nothing like being the ac- 
 tual doer. I felt quite certain you would be at 
 work. I wish it might prove to be something of 
 which I could take half to do." 
 
 Anna smiled brightly, almost mischievously. 
 " Of the only good I am conscious of having done, 
 you did half, Rachel. Rex is studying your 
 books." 
 
 "You found me out, did you? Well, do you 
 know, I thought, as I stood looking at him, that 
 my books were honored ? How fine looking he 
 has grown ! I often hear Prof. Kinney speak of 
 him. He thinks him the most promising young 
 man in the school." 
 
 "Oh, can that be so? Well, I shouldn't 
 know, of course. I believe he studies half the 
 
Among the Weeds, 225 
 
 night sometimes. He has really resolved to be 
 somebody." 
 
 " I never have forgotten, Anna, that he was 
 an answer to your prayers ; and so I have often 
 directly asked both Mrs, Eanney and her hus- 
 band about him. They pointed him out to me 
 in the garden once, so that I have always known 
 him when I have passed him on the street. Pro- 
 fessor Kinney says that he attends church regu- 
 larly. He has good friends in both Mr. and 
 Mrs. Kinney. Mrs. Kinney has quite a pen- 
 chant for looking out her husband's promising 
 pupils. But now, won't you tell me what you 
 are doing? These bright braids cover a busy 
 brain, I well know." 
 
 Anna answered the old answer, and as gravely 
 as ever,— *' I have nothing to tell, Rachel." 
 
 " I understand. That is you. You never 
 place any value on your work, or seem to com- 
 prehend that you are doing any. So let me 
 change my question a little. What is it you 
 
226 Anna May lie. 
 
 would like to do ? I really wish you to tell me. I 
 myself have grown very practical ; and how do 
 you know but God has really sent me to help 
 you, Anna? " 
 
 She said this so sweetly and so earnestly that 
 Anna remained in silence, wondering at the 
 change which the grace of God had wrought in 
 the haughty Rachel Mansfield ; and then, an irre- 
 sistible impulse came over her to lay her crude 
 plans before Eachel ; though what the wealthy 
 and cultivated Miss Mansfield could know of 
 raising strawberries would be of doubtful use. 
 
 She made no preface, — Anna May lie never 
 did, — but said, abruptly, — " I certainly need to 
 talk to somebody, but I think it is Miss Clemmer 
 instead of you. Yet you are so kind, Rachel, 
 that I will tell you what I have been thinking. 
 But remember that I do n't expect you to be very 
 much interested. Indeed, I do n't suppose it is 
 possible for it to seem to you as it does to me. 
 It certainly won't seem to you to be direct work 
 
Among the Weeds, 2^7 
 
 for the honor and glory of Jesus, and it does to 
 me." 
 
 And Anna realized so vividly what a vast leap 
 any one except herself must take from the simple 
 means to reach the glorious end, that she hesi- 
 tated, and then stopped. But, urged by Rachel's 
 face, which fully expressed her attention and in- 
 terest, Anna resumed, — 
 
 " I just want to set out all father's land to 
 strawberries, and raise strawberries to sell." 
 
 There the bare fact was, divested of all Anna's 
 dreams of doing good with the money the berries 
 would bring. What would Rachel say of it? 
 Anna waited, with downcast eyes and crimson 
 cheeks. 
 
 After a long time, Rachel said, — "You are 
 very enterprising, Anna. But is it practicable ? 
 I myself am not accustomed to any such large 
 plans." 
 
 " It is that which I do n't know," Anna an- 
 swered. "Rex says the ground must all be 
 
228 Anna Maylie. 
 
 plowed. That discouraged me, for I have neither 
 horses nor money : yet he says it must be 
 plowed." 
 
 "I should think it must be plowed, Anna. I 
 should think a great deal would have to be done 
 to fit the soil for your labors, Anna. Your 
 friend Rex, — does he understand agriculture? " 
 
 " I can't tell ; you never can be sure what he 
 do n't know." 
 
 " Suppose we go out and look at this land, 
 Anna, and then talk with your friend ? " 
 
 It was a great place to take Rachel Mansfield 
 into, Anna knew, but there was no alternative, 
 for she was already half way round the house. 
 They walked a short distance up the lot, but the 
 heavy growth of tall weeds was too forbidding. 
 What a repellant growth it was, of burdocks, 
 thistles, mulleins, and nameless others, with 
 coarse stem and crude leaf, ready to stain, or 
 eting, Rachel felt, as she surveyed the crowded 
 waste. She never realized before that Nature 
 
Among the Weeds, 229 
 
 had any such repugnant, reptile growth of 
 green. 
 
 Standing there, shading her eyes from the sun, 
 her dainty dress gathered up in her hand, and 
 her fine, tucked, snowy skirts hekl carefully 
 back, how out of place Eachel looked I And 
 as Anna gazed at her, and then at the weeds 
 around them, she thought what a distance it was 
 yet up to comfort and refinement. 
 
 " Never mind about going any farther," Rachel 
 said ; " I can see from here. The land has a nice 
 southern slope, and I know that I have heard 
 Williams speak of that in connection with straw- 
 berries. I think it very probable that the place 
 might be made to yield hundreds of dollars ; but 
 you, poor child, how could you do it?" 
 
 Anna answered promptly. 
 
 "I could manage acres, if I could have them in 
 the shape Miss Clemmer's is ; — if the land was 
 mellowed and ready, if I was once over the start, 
 you know. 
 
230 Anna May lie. 
 
 " Suppose we consult your neighbor before we 
 go on," Eachel suggested. She passed to the 
 fence and beckoned Rex. She said without any 
 preliminaries, — "I think well of Anna's plans. 
 I could help her, I think, if I knew what were 
 the first steps to be taken. Can you tell us what 
 must be done here before the land is ready for the 
 plants?" 
 
 " I think I can. It was only a short time ago 
 that I heard Professor Kinney and Mr. Clem- 
 mer's gardener discussing the best method of pre- 
 paring grounds for strawberries. Johnson would 
 gay, drain it first, but the English are always 
 draining ; and unless Anna cares particularly for 
 high farming theories, which I guess she do n't, 
 I should say let that go ; for the present at least. 
 If the crops show the need of draining, it can be 
 done at any time. The land should be plowed 
 thoroughly, cross -plowed. Professor Kinney 
 would say, and after that it will need harrowing 
 repeatedly." 
 
Among the Weeds, 231 
 
 " No fertilizers ? " queried Anna. 
 
 "No; that is, unless you can get muck, and 
 decayed leaves, or something of that kind ; but it 
 never has been cropped heavily ; and if the weeds 
 had been kept down, I believe it would be nearly 
 as rich as forest mold. See ! " He reached 
 over and pulled up a weed, and the soil did look 
 black and mellow. 
 
 " I see. It seems then that the preliminary 
 work is work which can be hired without Anna 
 having any of the labor or care. Thank you, 
 Mr. Eex ; and I am the more encouraged about 
 Anna's plan because she has so intelligent a 
 neighbor for reference and advice." 
 
 She turned back to the house, and her manner 
 now was confident. " Well, Anna, it is nothing 
 so very difficult, or so deeply scientific, after all. 
 I can see nothing to prevent you from at least 
 giving your plan a trial if your father is willing 
 that you should use the land." 
 
 Anna simply gazed at her. " ' She can see 
 
232 Anna Maylie, 
 
 nothing to prevent,' she says ! And, of course, 
 there would n't be anything to prevent her ! And 
 I suppose, too, it is nothing strange that she 
 never thinks that I have n't any money to pay for 
 those easily arranged preliminaries which she 
 speaks of. Money, of course, would be the last 
 thing lacking with her." 
 
 Meantime Eachel quietly proceeded. "I 
 should suppose also that you need to ascertain 
 the proper time for setting the plants, and then 
 you can procure them by the quantity. But 
 I shall reserve to myself that part of the labor 
 which consists in furnishing the men and horses 
 to do the work of which we have just been talk- 
 ing with Rex. — No, I shall not permit you to 
 refuse me ! It need never become a burden of 
 obligation to you ; you may regard it as a loan, 
 if you really prefer to do so. When the business 
 becomes profitable, and you would not miss the 
 sum, I shall be glad to have you place it in the 
 hands of some one in need of a small capital.'* 
 
Among the Weeds. 233 
 
 She rose to go, and much more earnestly than 
 she had yet spoken, she added, — " There must 
 be many items to learn in order to make any 
 business a success, — to make it a paying busi- 
 ness. Now, I am not able to advise you as to 
 details, but you will need to inform yourself 
 thoroughly. You will see me again soon ; and 
 now, good bye." She just stopped a moment to 
 look at the bewildered face, and then, with a 
 smile, was gone. 
 
 " Yes, she was gone, and without one word of 
 acknowledgment or of thanks, Anna knew very 
 well. She sat down in the rocking - chair from 
 which Eachel had just risen, and tried to realize 
 all that had been said to her. Her heart - ache 
 over the poverty and pain of life had been so 
 hard and long, that she felt as if she was struck 
 blind and dumb when the window in heaven did 
 open. 
 
 She did not know how long she had been sit- 
 ting there, when she heard the gate open, and 
 
234 Aima Maylie, 
 
 saw Rachel coming back. She sprang up, but 
 Kachel quietly sat down in the chair by the door. 
 " I believe, Anna, that I must have a talent akin 
 to yours lying dormant, for a thought quite 
 worthy of yourself came to me as I was walking 
 home, and with an impulsive energy which is 
 also like yours, I have hastened back to you with 
 it. Is it wise to use all your land for straw- 
 berries at once ? I have heard, — at least I have 
 come in possession of the idea by some means, — 
 that strawberries need new ground every two 
 or three years. Would it not be better, then, 
 to devote a portion of the land to a vegetable 
 garden for the family ? I know that most fam- 
 ilies consume quantities of vegetables. But I 
 merely toss the idea over to you, Anna ; you 
 may be able to make something of it, perhaps. 
 If you decide to do so, remember that Wil- 
 liams will supply you with seeds and roots. 
 I am really gone this time," she added as she 
 closed the gate. 
 
Among the Weeds, 
 
 235 
 
 She had come and gone so swiftly indeed 
 that Anna might have doubted her senses, 
 had not the new vision of prosperity and 
 comfort which she had left behind her remained 
 fio vivid. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ANOTHER SABBATH EVENING. 
 
 FEEL very undecided just what 
 to do with those little creatures that are 
 coming here to-night," said Anna, 
 thoughtfully. "They need quite a dif- 
 ferent style of teaching from what I ever had. I 
 was a large girl when I first went to Sabbath 
 school, you know. What do you think about it, 
 Eex?" 
 
 " I have been considering this very thing," 
 he answered. " To make such little beings real- 
 
Another Sahhath Evening, 237 
 
 ize, and )hiiik about any fact which is totally dif- 
 ferent fiom anything they ever saw, needs a 
 genius. And the little things are all so igno- 
 rant, too ! What have you thought of doing? " 
 
 " I've been hesitating. I have n't known 
 whether to take one of the simplest of the Bible 
 stories, or to give them a short sentence from the 
 words of Jesus to learn by heart. I have thought 
 I might be able to illustrate these little sentences 
 by something the children had themselves done 
 or seen. I have thought that even little Ginnie 
 Petersham could be made to understand what is 
 meant by *Love your enemies,' and ' He shall 
 reward every man according to his works,' *I 
 am the Good Shepherd ;' and I do n't know but I 
 could even draw a lesson which they could under- 
 stand from ' The very hairs of your head are all 
 numbered.' " 
 
 "I don't see how ; but I suppose you do." 
 "Yes, I think I do. I have tried so hard not 
 to worry about the teaching. What was it Jesua 
 
238 Anna Maylie. 
 
 said? *It sli all be given you in that same hour 
 what ye shall speak ;' and I can not but think it 
 was meant for those just like myself, who are 
 fearful about their success when they are called 
 to work for Jesus. * It shall be given you in that 
 same hour what ye shall speak.' The occasion 
 seems very small to call for the great comfort of 
 such a text ; and I do n't know why I should feel 
 that I need it so ; yet the verse keeps whispering 
 itself in my ear." 
 
 Rex gazed thoughtfully down. "It shall be 
 given you." There were no doubts, no condi- 
 tions. It was a strong, simple " shall." Why 
 should he, too, not lean upon the promise which 
 bore Anna so firmly? 
 
 " What are you going to do with the mothers ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "I do n't think I shall need to do anything 
 with them, Rex. Sunday schools, or anything 
 in their likeness, are not an old story with them. 
 I do n't think we shall need to study how to 
 
Another Sabbath Evening, 239 
 
 keep the mothers interested. If we can only in- 
 terest the children, we are safe. Is n't that father 
 and Jacky with Hon. Dennis ? " 
 
 " Oh ! is he riding after that horse again ? " 
 exclaimed her mother going to the door, and 
 looking anxiously after them ; and she and Anna 
 both watched them as they dashed across the 
 Common. 
 
 The two large men crowded the small, high 
 buggy, and Jacky was behind in the bit of shal- 
 low box, keeping in and hanging on as well as 
 he could. They were almost afraid they should 
 see him whirled out. They could hear him 
 laugh, and they saw him look back, and shake 
 bis fist at little Jim, who was slowly coming up 
 the walk, crying. 
 
 Anna went out and tried to soothe him and get 
 him in. She endeavored to console him with the 
 idea of being at her Sunday school. " Mary, and 
 Min, and Ginnie, and Agnes, are all going to be 
 here again ; had you forgotten it ? Other little 
 
240 Anna Maylie, 
 
 girls are coming too, and you shall stay and be 
 sister's good boy." 
 
 "No, no. Jacky ain't, and I do n't want to be 
 no better boy than Jacky. Jacky ain't a good 
 boy, and he has a good time. I won't be at your 
 Sunday school, so ! " and, sobbing louder than 
 ever, he pulled away from her, 
 
 " You have forgotten, then, how nice it was to 
 sing ^ Happy Land ? ' and to stand up in a row 
 and say over those pretty verses that sister learns 
 at her Sunday school ? " 
 
 " I won't do it," he persisted between his sobs. 
 " Mebbe I would though, only Jacky says it's 
 soft. Jacky says you 're soft, too." 
 
 Rex came out, and they both tried to paint 
 afresh the pleasure of hearing so many children 
 sing, and finally his sobs ceased. By degrees he 
 followed Anna inside the gate, and at last asked, 
 slowly, — " If I would come in, could I take one 
 of your Sunday - school books, and have your 
 parasol up ? " 
 
Another Sahhath Evening, 241 
 
 Glad to secure him upon any conditions, she 
 brought him in, and seated him by Rex, with her 
 raised parasol in one hand, and a pictorial volume 
 of Biblical Antiquities in the other. 
 
 From the window by which she sat, Anna had 
 a view of nearly all the houses on the Common ; 
 and as it grew near sunset, she became aware of 
 an unusual stir. She could hear mothers calling 
 their children in from their play on the green, and 
 she and Rex witnessed many an amusing chase 
 after some tiny, bare— legged mite, who was more 
 refractory than the rest, and who had no relish 
 for the unusual washing and combing. A little 
 later, and they could see Mrs. Fish and her two 
 children coming out, and going down to Mrs, 
 Petersham's ; Mrs. Fish had put on the crimson 
 crepe shawl which she had brought over from 
 England ; Anna had often been shown it, but 
 she had never seen it worn before. Mrs. Peters- 
 ham and Ginnie met them in the door - yard, and 
 Anna could discern that she, although it was 
 
242 Anna Maylie, 
 
 summer and her neighbor was wearing crape, had 
 wrapped herself in the folds of her double broche, 
 which had been left her by her mother. She had 
 also donned the leghorn bonnet which was of a 
 long past fashion, but still kept for best. Around 
 one house and another, where Anna least expected 
 it, there were the same significant signs, until it 
 was no difficult matter to discover, from this 
 token and that, that this little gathering was a 
 great event to the entire neighborhood. She saw 
 the rooms were going to be full, and tried to set- 
 tle how many their chairs would accommodate, 
 how many could sit on the side of the bed, and 
 how many on the lounge. She shook her head 
 doubtfully, and turned to Eex. He knew of 
 course, and he made it the work of but a few 
 moments to improvise a couple of capacious seats 
 by means of boards and blocks. 
 
 But just at dark, as she saw group after group 
 of women and their little ones leave their homes 
 and cross the common, she was seized afresh 
 
Another Sabbath Evening, 243 
 
 with tlie fear that she might not be able to justi- 
 fy the expectations they had formed. She again 
 strengthened herself with the promise, "And it 
 shall be given you in that hour what ye shall 
 speak." Rising to welcome them, she resolved 
 again and again in her mind, an evident duty,— - 
 a duty which she did not even for one moment 
 wish she could omit, but which the presence of 
 Rex and her mother made very hard. 
 
 She met the people with an easy greeting, but 
 their manner was constrained and hushed. The 
 Mrs. Green and the Mrs. Petersham of to - nioht 
 
 o 
 
 were very different from the Mrs. Green ard the 
 Mrs. Petersham of the Sunday evening before. 
 They had all evidently come to " meeting." She 
 could not help feeling, however, that she would 
 more easily and successfully have taught the 
 neighbors who ran in so familiarly last Sabbath 
 evening, with shawls thrown over their heads, 
 than this formal assembly. She tried to feel 
 willing to labor in the Lord's way, not her own ; 
 
244 Anna Maylie, 
 
 and as she passed to and fro among the people, 
 arranging the lights, and making the children 
 comfortable, she breathed a constant prayer, — 
 "Lord, make me equal to Thy work;" for here 
 before her, at last, was the literal work for Je- 
 sus for which she had longed and prayed. 
 
 Delaying only until she was certain of her 
 self- possession, she took her seat by the table, 
 where at the outer end sat Rex. She had made 
 no request, but as the room grew quiet, he said, 
 in an easy manner, — " We will sing the children's 
 favorite, — ^ Happy Land,' — and let us all sing. 
 Mrs. Maylie, won't you take the soprano with 
 the children, so that Anna can sing alto?" 
 
 And they did all sing, if not before, certainly 
 by the time they came to the last verse. 
 
 A moment's pause, and then Anna knelt and 
 lifted her voice in prayer. The sight of the faith- 
 ful young girl kneeling in their midst, touched 
 the heart of every one of those simple, ignorant 
 women, and it was so still that her words could 
 
Another Sahhath Evening, 245 
 
 easily have been heard out on the walk. And 
 Anna prayed for just what she wanted. She 
 prayed directly, prayed fervently. She prayed 
 that this Sabbath might be the commencement of 
 years and years of blessed Sabbaths for Morris- 
 town Common, and that God would raise Him- 
 self up a people among them ; that the little work 
 begun that night in His name, might grow until 
 a day came when a church should rise yonder on 
 the green ; — and her voice shook as some woman 
 who had been a professor of religion in other 
 days, res])onded with a quivering "Amen." 
 
 Anna had thought that she alone had knelt, 
 but as she rose, to her indescribable surprise, she 
 saw Eex rise also. Was he honoring her, or her 
 Master? There was a momentary hush, a hush 
 of expectation. As she was about to speak. Rex 
 rose to his feet^ and said in a voice whose very 
 tremulousness showed how earnest and how brave 
 he was, — " Perhaps no one here has intended it, 
 but as the large number present shows how genu « 
 
246 Anna May He, 
 
 ine an interest there is, I see no reason why we 
 may not organize ourselves into a permanent Sab- 
 bath school. There are so many of us, living, as 
 it were, within the sound of each other's voices, 
 that we shall be able to hold the school even 
 through the stormiest winter weather. To be 
 sure, we have no church, no minister; but these 
 are among the very weightiest reasons why we 
 should have a Sabbath school. We need some- 
 where to go, where we can learn of Jesus." 
 
 The voice of the boy trembled more and more, 
 as he pronounced the blessed name, and the 
 flush which was on his face when he rose had 
 died away, and left him very pale. Pausing, as 
 if to more deeply consider what he was about to 
 say, he went on : 
 
 " I have just found Jesus, neighbors ; just 
 found my Saviour ; and my heart burns within 
 me to lead every one around me to His feet. 
 Since I found Him, I have thought of nothing 
 else. I have looked forward to this little gather- 
 
Another Sabbath Evening. 247 
 
 ing day and night, and prayed that it might be a 
 place where I might work in the name of my 
 Master. I am only an ignorant boy, but I feel 
 that great things might be done here, in the name 
 of the Lord Jesus. During Anna's prayer I 
 could look onward through the coming years, 
 and I could see the church rise on the Common, 
 and I could see the families of all these houses 
 thronging through its doors. No, mothers, you 
 will not then be alone with your little children, 
 but fathers and brothers will go with you into 
 the courts of the Lord." 
 
 Eex paused, overcome with emotion. He saw 
 Lute's head bent in weeping, the wondering eyes 
 of his neighbors fixed upon him, and the pale, 
 pale face of Anna May lie. But, boy though he 
 was, he controlled his agitation. He went 
 on : 
 
 " Is it not time that we began a search in 
 earnest for the way which leads to heaven ? Shall 
 we not have, at last, a Sunday school on Mor- 
 
248 Anna Maylie. 
 
 ristown Common? Let all those in favor of a 
 Sunday school, rise." 
 
 To Anna Maylie, whose rosy cheeks were pale 
 for the first time in her life, the room seemed 
 just a dense mass of people. The Sabbath school 
 of her many prayers was rising before her and 
 crystallizing into shape. So rapidly had it aW 
 come about, that it seemed more like a dream 
 than a living reality. Could it be that Rex had 
 become a Christian ? How had the change been 
 wrought, and when? She hushed her wonderings, 
 for should she shorten the arm of the Almighty ? 
 She felt, as she had never felt before, that God 
 and His ways were infinitely greater than her 
 prayers and desires. Wider and more glorious 
 than all her prayers had been all heaven's an- 
 swers. 
 
 " Anna and myself will superintend the work 
 for the present," Rex was saying, in a clear, de 
 cided voice. " A gentleman who is fully compe 
 tent to teach and lead us all, was talking with me 
 
Another Sabbath Evening, 249 
 
 last week, about the probability of establishing a 
 School here, and offered to come and help us. 
 But I thought we might prefer to be alone by our- 
 selves, for a while at least." 
 
 He and Anna then held a consultation respect- 
 ing the organization of the classes. She talked 
 with one and another, to learn whether they pre- 
 ferred to listen to the recitations of the children, 
 or to be themselves organized into a Bible class. 
 There was some looking fi'om one to the other, 
 with an e^^ident embarrassment, but finally a gen- 
 eral whispering followed, and after that, Mrs. 
 Green expressed their conclusion : 
 
 " We thinks as how we ought to be teached, 
 more nor the children, if anything." 
 
 Bex took the Bible class, and Anna called the 
 children to her. There were eleven, as she 
 found upon counting. She took five of them to 
 her mother. ^'I know, dear mother, that you cao 
 make them understand who it was that took little 
 children up in His arms and blessed them, and 
 
250 Anna Maylie, 
 
 who it was that said, * Suffer little children to 
 come unto me.' " 
 
 Leaving them there, in spite of her mother's 
 hesitation, she took the remaining six to another 
 corner of the room. 
 
 But the little verses committed to memory the 
 Sabbath evening before, and so faithfully repeated 
 ao^ain and ao^ain through the week, were destined 
 to remain unsaid that Sabbath evening. For 
 just then a rap on the door interrupted the simple 
 services. To Anna's astonishment, it was Judge 
 Mansfield. She was struck at once by his pale, 
 grave face, as he stood a moment without speak- 
 ing, and through the half- opened door, she 
 caught a glimpse of a carriage drawn up at the 
 gate, two or three buggies stopping in the street, 
 and a crowd of men upon the walk. At one 
 glance, Mrs. May lie comprehended it all. Her 
 quick eye had defined the dark, bier - like ob- 
 ject which was borne among the crowd, and the 
 same peculiar grouping of another company, a few 
 
Another Sahhath Evening, 251 
 
 steps beyond. She needed no word from the 
 Judge, to comprehend it all. 
 
 " Oh, my God ! they are killed ! they are both 
 killed ! let me go, I say ! " She fled past the de- 
 taining hand of the Judge. Shudderingly, Anna 
 followed. Rachel's voice called to her from the 
 carriage, — " This way, Anna, come here, — 
 not there ! do n't allow her to go there, Rex I 
 Bring her to me ! " But she made her way to her 
 mother's side. The awful truth was just dawning 
 upon her, when a strong arm hurried her swiftly 
 away toward the carriage, and she knew not how 
 she was placed inside, and Rachel's arm was 
 around her, and her face on Rachel's shoulder. 
 Rex's voice sounded in her ear. " See that you 
 keep her. Miss Mansfield ; it is no place for 
 her ! " But she started up, and would have 
 sprung out. " Mother — mother is there ! let me 
 go to poor mother — how could I have left her 
 so!" 
 
 Rachel was holding the restive horses, but with 
 
252 Anna A fay lie. 
 
 one arm she detained her. " Eex has gone for 
 her, too, Anna ; in a moment she will be here. 
 Please sit down, Anna, or you W'ill be thrown 
 out ; — stand still, sir ! " There was indeed dan- 
 ger, for the horses stood champing their bits 
 impatiently, and pawing, and every now and 
 then, in spite of Eachel's firm voice and hand, 
 they violently backed the carriage several steps, 
 until at last she sprang to the ground, lines in 
 hand, and went to their heads. 
 
 Eex hurried back for Mrs. Maylie ; but it 
 was of no use. No one could detain her, or draw 
 her away, or hide, or in the least degree soften, 
 the truth. She was swifter than they, and the 
 men fell back, and turned away their heads, as 
 with a frightful, gurgling cry, she threw back the 
 blanket that covered what had once been her 
 little Jacky, trampled out of every semblance to 
 the bright, roguish boy she had loved so well. 
 
 She turned away with uplifted hands — toward 
 the other — where it stood, darkly draped, re- 
 
Another Sahhath Evening, 253 
 
 vealing the long, dim outline of its solemn bur- 
 den ; but she could not go. She sank helplessly 
 down, and her head dropped on the blanket 
 which they had pityingly drawn again over the 
 crushed and bleeding little form. The low, 
 heart-broken, pitiful weeping pierced every 
 heart. Anna heard it, and with a bitter cry she 
 was out of the carriao;e and on the oround at her 
 mother's side, with her arms around her. 
 
 " O Mother ! Mother ! Mother !" 
 
 The men fell back in silence. The yard and 
 door - way were darkened with the hushed crowd 
 of women and children ; the walk, too, was 
 thronged. Wiping his own eyes, Judge Mans- 
 field made his way back to his daughter. She 
 lifted her wet face from Selim's neck as he came 
 up. listened to his few low words, and then fol- 
 lowed him back. 
 
 Bnt there was little need now of her presence 
 and persuasions. Mrs. May lie silently obeyed 
 her request, and Judge Mansfield led the poor 
 
254 Anna Maylie. 
 
 woman away and placed her in the carriage, 
 while Rachel followed with Anna and the fright- 
 ened little brother. Then she turned, while her 
 father was giving the needful orders to the 
 men, and asked Rex to call his sister. To them, 
 in a low tone, she gave directions, and saying that 
 she herself would come around with the house- 
 keeper in the morning, she entered the carriage 
 and it drove away. 
 
 The tragedy had been brief. Both men had 
 been somewhat intoxicated, and when the horse 
 took fright upon the bridge, neither of them was 
 capable of controlling him, and he had plunged 
 and reared until he had thrown them all from the 
 buggy. Jacky fell in such a manner that the 
 horse backed the buggy directly over him, and 
 trampled him to death. The pretty black tangle 
 of curls, the bright eyes, the sun- burned cheek 
 and the roguish mouth were no more to be dis- 
 tinguished, as they clothed him in his last gar 
 
A Sabbath Evening. 255 
 
 ments, and sealed him out of sight forever, as too 
 sad an object to be looked upon again by those 
 who loved him. Mr. Maylie's neck must have 
 been broken by the fall, as he was tossed over the 
 parapet, many feet down into the river. How 
 calm and noble he looked in his last sleep, with 
 the dignity of death resting upon brow and 
 breast ! And as Judge Mansfield gazed sadly 
 down upon him, he could easily recall, in the 
 features before him, the brave and generous Tom 
 Maylie of other days, and bitterly he regTetted 
 that he had so carelessly seen his old friend go 
 down the drunkard's path. 
 
 Before Hon. Dennis also had been trampled 
 to death, several men had sprung to the rescue, 
 and caught the horse which had been partially 
 stopped by some accidental winding of the lines 
 around the wheel. Judge Mansfield and his 
 daughter were returning from a call they had 
 been making upon an old servant of the family 
 who was ill, and he had at once undertaken the 
 
256 Anna Maylie. 
 
 char«2^e of conveying the bodies back to him. 
 But let me cover these days from sight. Every - 
 thing which could be, was softened for Mrs. 
 Maylie and Anna. Judge Mansfield endeavored 
 to make atonement to the family for the death of 
 the man whom he felt that he perhaps might have 
 saved. The expenses of the funeral he defrayed, 
 and many plans and resolves for the benefit of 
 Mrs. Maylie and her children followed them whea 
 they finally returned to their lonely home. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CHANGES. 
 
 HESE sudden bereavements brought 
 many changes to the Maylie household, 
 and, strangest of all perhaps, to the 
 "2^ " world outside, heavy, heart - felt sorrow ; 
 loi, by one of the blessed provisions of family 
 love, the memory of poor Tom Maylie's shiftless- 
 ness, his carelessness of the family's comfort, and 
 his dissipation faded from the thoughts of both 
 Anna and her mother. I think they both finally 
 came to remember him best as he looked that 
 Sunday night when he sang with them, — Anna's 
 
258 Anna May He, 
 
 only glimpse of the cultivated man her mother 
 had loved and married. There were many hours 
 when Anna dwelt upon the sober intervals, and 
 the thoughtful moods which she had noticed in his 
 last few weeks, — upon his kinder manner 
 toward them all, and the respect which he mani- 
 fested for her Sabbath and her religion. She 
 prayed, — she could not help it, — that the Holy 
 Spirit might have been busy with her father's 
 heart. She could not feel that this was wrong ; 
 and she left her grief and hopes with Him who 
 doeth all things well. 
 
 Their house was very still without Jacky, — 
 boisterous, lawless Jacky, but always so dear and 
 bright. And the loneliness of little Jim touched 
 her heart anew, as in those first nights he would 
 slip from his low bed and silently creep up where 
 both she and her mother were lying awake, think- 
 ing of the dead. Poor, little, gentle Jim ! He 
 cared not much now for the favorite street cor- 
 ners, and the games on the Common, or any of 
 
Changes, 259 
 
 his noisy little comrades. It was better to go 
 around with Anna. The awful fact, that if Jacky 
 had liked to be good, and hadn't been afraid of 
 being " soft," and had stayed to his sister's Sunday 
 school, he would not have been killed, seemed to 
 sink deep into his heart. 
 
 I have said that these deaths brought changes 
 to the May lie family. And they were changes 
 for the better. Judge Mansfield felt no idle re- 
 morse over his neglect of poor Tom Maylie in his 
 downward course, and Rachel failed not to inter- 
 est him in Anna and her plans. Thus it was, 
 that when the Maylies were once more settled in 
 their home, he came over to the Common and 
 held a long conversation with Mrs. Maylie ; and 
 as they talked, his quick eye did not fail to notice 
 the various privations of her daily life. He made 
 a long story of old Col. Maylie's kindness to him 
 when he was a young man at college. He fiiled 
 not to impress upon her mind what her father - 
 in - law's gift of a small law - library was to him 
 
260 Anna Maylie, 
 
 ID the early days of his practice. He counted 
 over to her the clients Col. May lie had sent him. 
 And then he said, — " I am honestly in debt to 
 him to-day two hundred dollars, and you 
 must allow me to discharge my indebtedness — 
 to you." He quietly counted out the money and 
 laid it on the table. 
 
 After advisino: her respecting the alteration 
 necessary to render her house more comfortable, 
 he turned to Anna. " My more delicate obliga- 
 tions to Miss Anna's grandfather I prefer to 
 discharge to Miss Anna herself." And although 
 Bhe could answer only with a blush, the courtli- 
 ness and the grave deference of the tone, the 
 bow, the smile, made each word a lasting remem- 
 brance to Colonel Maylie's humble granddaugh- 
 ter. Then, in a few delicately -chosen woids, he 
 made her aware tjiat he was interested in her 
 experiment with the land, and left her feeling 
 that she had a new and powerful friend, 
 
 Neither had Rachel been idle; and Anna 
 
Changes, 261 
 
 never appreciated her sensible advice and delicate 
 kindn(5ss as she did on the Sabbath following 
 their bereavement, when she realized that she was 
 at last walking to church with her mother and 
 little brother at her side, and that it was Rachel 
 whose thoughtful taste had ordered everything. 
 It was truly as Rachel said : her mother looked 
 *ike a lady in her black dress and heavy widow's 
 veil, and little Jim, in his new suit, neat collar 
 and pretty cap, like a lady's son. Notwithstand- 
 ing their recent sorrow, she had a quiet confi- 
 dence in the future, and her faith in God's wise 
 purposes concerning His children was strength- 
 ened ; for even through the gateway of the dark 
 valley He had reached her a blessing. 
 
 " Though He slay me," she said, " yet will I 
 trust in Hina." 
 
 The next week was a great week for the peo- 
 ple of Morristown Common. The women sat on 
 their door - steps, and met at their gates, to talk 
 
262 Anna May lie. 
 
 over the strange doings at the widow Maylie's ; 
 and the men, as they went down town, and as 
 they came back, stopped in groups to gaze at the 
 busy workmen. For the noise of a saw and the 
 blow of a hammer were indeed unusual sounds ; 
 — it was years since a carpenter had been seen at 
 work on Morristown Common. 
 
 One set of men were busy on the roof, tearing 
 off the shingles, and another set, with Rex Palmer 
 at the head, were throwing down all the old 
 fences on the place. Even the chimney was de- 
 molished, and the few boards and crazy posts 
 w^hich had constituted a wood - house were re- 
 moved. But the disorder and debris were of 
 short continuance. It was not many days before, 
 gaily enough, the new roof shone among the ma- 
 ples, and a new fence rose, length by length, 
 until the entire four acres were spanned ; while 
 large gate and small gate, both with handsome 
 capped posts, contributed their share to the respect- 
 ability and snugness of the whole, and new win- 
 
Changes, 263 
 
 dow casements and new sashes appeared through- 
 out the house. 
 
 A week passed, and then, to the delight of the 
 idlers, there was a fresh sensation. A man ap- 
 peared with horses, plows and drags, and was 
 soon seen at work. How many times he plowed 
 the land became a matter for discussion, and the 
 quantity of dragging was never satisfactorily set- 
 tled ; but it is certain that three - fourths of it was 
 harrowed and re - harrowed until it was as fine as 
 dust. Finally, it was trenched off into great 
 beds, and then operations ceased again for a 
 time. 
 
 Meantime Anna had had her sensation ; for one 
 morning a large box had been brought up by the 
 City Delivery, which was directed to her in 
 Kachel's hand, — she knew the writing this time. 
 It was Eachel's present. It contained a complete 
 set of gardening tools, — Anna never knew how 
 complete until she had worked in her garden for 
 months, and found among the set a tool for every 
 
264: Anna Maylie, 
 
 possible want and every possible grade of work. 
 It was perfect, from the heavy spade and its slen- 
 derer mate, down through rakes and queerly - 
 fashioned hoes, to the tiniest weeding - hooks and 
 daintiest pruning - scissors ; — it was perfect. 
 Anna lifted them again and again with genuine 
 delight. There were many tools whose names 
 she did not know, many varieties of knives and 
 shears whose particular function she could not de- 
 termine, and many curious implements whose use 
 she could not even guess at ; but she examined 
 and handled each one with equal delight. 
 
 At last a new season of work was begun. For 
 days and days, Anna, Rex, and Mrs. Maylie were 
 to be seen out in the plowed ground which, al- 
 though not a spear of green was visible, looked 
 already like an immense garden, — so attractive 
 were the great beds with their neat, regular 
 trenches. There, down on their knees, evidently 
 at work at something, they were to be seen reg- 
 ularly, day after day. Finally, Mrs. Green went 
 
Changes, 265 
 
 over purposely to see, and she reported their em- 
 ployment to be " settin' out strawberries," and 
 " my goodness ! " she exclaimed, " do n't you think 
 they must be crazy ? Three acres of strawberries ! 
 Why, jest Miss May lie, and Jim and Anny 
 could n't eat what '11 grow there in three months , 
 even if they should set up nights ! " 
 
 " Anny's a smart girl, and a good girl, but it's 
 my opinion that it's that thar Rachel Mansfield 
 that 's a spilin' of her," was Mrs. Petersham's only 
 explanation of the matter. 
 
 But however easy and attractive their work 
 might have seemed to the neighbors, those days 
 were days of backache, headache, thirst, and in- 
 describable weariness ; and at the end, when the 
 last plant was set, and with stiffened fingers and 
 blistered face Anna stood gazing at their work, it 
 looked so little and unpromising, — merely an ex- 
 panse of ground spotted at regular intervals with 
 tufts of rusty green, — she could not help asking, 
 Would the miracle really take place? Would 
 
266 Anna Maylie, 
 
 the family support, the comfort and the respecta- 
 bility she had longed for all her life, and money 
 to give toward the blessed work of Jesus — dol- 
 lars instead of dimes — ever rise in plenty and in 
 beauty from the bosom of that dingy field ? 
 
 After this change at the May lie's, time went 
 swiftly on. The Sunday school on Morristown 
 Common, Rex and Anna's school as it every- 
 where was called, grew steadily in size, in inter- 
 est, and in influence. They were the superin- 
 tendents still ; for though the churches stood 
 ready in deep sympathy to help on the good 
 work, the people of the Common clung to Eex 
 and Anna. From the cloud of small dwellings 
 which rested upon the hillside back of the Com- 
 mon, families gradually began to gather at the 
 school, and here and there among them was a man 
 or woman who knew Jesus, and who studied His 
 Word, and from their number the children and 
 the Bible classes were supplied with teachers. 
 The various Sabbath schools of the town had 
 
Changes, 267 
 
 contributed books to form a library. Indeed, the 
 Christians of Morristovvn, although they were 
 willing that it should mark out its own path, both 
 prayed and worked for the school on the Com- 
 mon, and almost every Sabbath found some vis- 
 itor there from the uptown churches,- — where the 
 young superintendents were members. Now the 
 visitor would be Dr. Mason himself, sometimes 
 Professor Kinney with his wife, and occasion- 
 ally, when the sunny weather would allow her to 
 ride so far. Miss Clemmer, looking more like a 
 snow - drop than ever ; but oftenest of all came 
 Judge Mansfield and Eachel. These usually 
 took charge of the Bible classes ; and the effect was 
 good, although the answers were somewhat con- 
 strained, and the homely discussions, which were 
 so free and interesting when they were by them- 
 selves, were invariably postponed. Yet the zeal 
 and the faith of this congregation of poor and il- 
 literate people never failed to be strengthened by 
 these visits from men and women of refinement 
 
268 Anna Maylie, 
 
 and culture, who showed in every look and word 
 that they worked for the same Master and loved 
 the same Saviour. 
 
 It was not many months before a prayer meet- 
 ing grew out of the Sunday school. At first it 
 was only Rex and Anna and Mr. and Mrs. Morse 
 from the hillside ; but like the school, and like 
 any work where the leaven of faith and earnest- 
 ness is, it grew until on Wednesday nights Mrs. 
 May lie's house would be thronged. Often, on 
 those nights, Anna's face would be wet with 
 tears as she realized that the house and the twi- 
 light, once so inexpressibly dreary, had become 
 the Hour and the House of Prayer. She often 
 wondered if she would not have drawn back in 
 weakness, could she have foreseen the ever - wid- 
 ening answer to her importunate prayers for work 
 to do for Jesus. But her strength developed 
 along with her labors ; besides. Rex had lifted the 
 heaviest burdens to his own shoulders. 
 
 He had grown physically, intellectually and 
 
Changes, 269 
 
 spiritually. He was really fine looking, as 
 Rachel had said, and as Anna had predicted long 
 ago in his ragged and barefoot days. He was 
 tall, with thoughtful brow, piercing eye, and firm 
 mouth. His bearing and address were frank, 
 straightforward and dignified. He was noticeable 
 anywhere, — at school, on the street, at work, or 
 at church. And notice and appreciation he re- 
 ceived without stint. Yet Eex Palmer remained 
 unspoiled ; for nowhere was he so thoroughly his 
 best self, nowhere did he appear to such advan- 
 tage, as among his own people in the Sunday 
 school of Morristown Common. 
 
CHAPTER XVn. 
 
 THE HARVEST. 
 
 ONTHS glided on. Autumn 
 hung her lamps of gold and crimson 
 in the maples around the little brown 
 Maylie house, and lit the fading year 
 until winter wrapped all within his snowy sheets 
 of rest and silence. Tender spring came back, 
 searching for the gold of her crocuses and daffo- 
 dils, and touched the sleeping earth with her fin- 
 ger of beauty, and whispered, " Waken now, for 
 June is on the way ! " The bright procession 
 passed, then came and tripped its fairy circle 
 
The Harvest. 271 
 
 round Anna's home once more. Within there 
 were many new comforts and many traces of re- 
 finement. A serene contentment always rested 
 upon Anna's face now. She had, at last, steadied 
 her life by "the anchor within the veil," and 
 waited calmly as, day by day, her Master's pur- 
 poses unfolded. Faithfully she threw the shuttle 
 of duty to and fro, and fretted no longer because 
 the entire pattern was not unrolled before her 
 impatient eye. As the web was woven she would 
 doubtless see the design. 
 
 Her mother had long since united with the 
 church of which she herself was a member. Lit- 
 tle Jim was one of her brightest scholars, and 
 loved his Sunday - school and his weekly school 
 with an equal devotion. Last year, her straw- 
 berries, from which she had expected no profit, 
 v\ad flowered and fruited, and yielded them a small 
 sum. She had faithfully given the tenth to the 
 Lord. It was her rule with all her earnings ; 
 and lately she had thought that the nine - tenths 
 
272 Anna Maylie, 
 
 remaining had become invested with some mirac- 
 ulous power. She sometimes wondered if the 
 same sacred Hand which, of old, touched the 
 widow's measure of meal and cruse of oil had not 
 laid in blessing upon her money. Miss Clemmer 
 had continued to give her employment when she 
 was not at work among her berries, so that, this 
 year, she had been able to give quite liberally to 
 the cause she loved so well. 
 
 Never before had their earnings seemed to do 
 them so much tangible good. They had been 
 able to have the house replastered, and to build 
 a comfortable kitchen. And over this enlarging 
 of their borders Mrs. Maylie and Anna rejoiced, 
 for Anna's Sunday school had overflowed its 
 limits, and even to their prayer meetings the peo- 
 ple had come in crowds. Lute had offered their 
 house, but Anna and Rex both felt that the en- 
 tire school ought to be kept together under their 
 own eyes. 
 
 But best of all her encouragements was the 
 
The Harvest, 273 
 
 steady growth of her first " answer" to prayer. 
 There was constantly before her that miracle of 
 Kex. She was just becoming dimly conscious 
 also that the Master might have an especial work 
 for him to do. Anna thrilled at the thought. 
 She thrilled as she began to feel that if she was 
 circumscribed by want of capacity, want of 
 means, want of opportunity, he might not be. 
 She sometimes thought it might even be possible 
 for him to go out in the world, and there do such 
 work for Jesus that Morristown Common might 
 some day be proud to have been the birthplace 
 of Rexford Palmer. 
 
 She also long ago felt that he had grown be- 
 yond her. There were grave moods of which he 
 never spoke, hours of thought whose burden she 
 never shared. She knew that he was not one to 
 live on destitute of plans and aims, but she chose 
 not to question him. With a sigh, she turned 
 away from this contemplation, of his bright career 
 of usefulness, feeling that, although he might 
 
274 A.nna Maylie. 
 
 have outgrown his need of her, she could never, 
 never be thankful enough that she was the one 
 ■who had been chosen of God to rouse him from 
 that old, idle, aimless life. 
 
 With a sigh she turned back quietly to her 
 own daily life, where there were now so many 
 blessings to count, — a fair, bright rosary of 
 blessings, yet clasped with the black cross of 
 sorrow. For it was daily growing upon Anna 
 that Miss Clemmer was fast fading aw^ay. She 
 still taught her class occasionally, and now and 
 then, when a day came that she felt unusually 
 strong, would visit her poor ; but all her merely 
 social duties had been given up for months, and 
 very seldom now was she in her seat at the morn- 
 ing service. But the little Friday prayer meet- 
 ings, which had never growm any larger, were 
 still held, and frequently she and Kachel spent 
 an afternoon in their teacher's room, and at every 
 visit she could see a change. Her dark, violet 
 eyes were just as sweet and clear as of old ; but 
 
The Harvest, 275 
 
 those white temples were sunken, and the rose - 
 leaf had faded from her cheek. The lightest 
 exercise fatigued her, and Anna knew she could 
 lift and carry her from room to room, so fragile, 
 so etherial had she grown. 
 
 They never spoke of Miss Clemmer now, — it 
 was too sad, — but Anna knew that Rachel must 
 see it all. Neither did Miss Clemmer ever al- 
 lude to her health. But now there began to be 
 outward signs which could not be mistaken. 
 They both knew that the family physician w^as 
 constant in his attendance, and that one and an- 
 other of the absent members of the family had 
 been recalled ; for what reason they felt that they 
 knew, alas ! too well. 
 
 It was Rachel who was the good genius of 
 Anna's daily life. In her society she daily grew 
 in refinement ; under her influence she learned to 
 think and act with order and directness. Eachel 
 was often there ; her drives and walks were quite 
 
276 Anna Maylie. 
 
 as often in tlie direction of Morristown Common 
 as up the cool, wide avenues where the mansions 
 of wealth gleamed through the park-like seclusion. 
 Rachel's Christianity also was a practical Chris- 
 tianity, and she was never weary of Anna's Sab- 
 bath - school, Anna's prayer meetings, Anna's 
 sick and poor. And among her greatest pleas- 
 ures she counted those peaceful evenings in the 
 little brown house, where she sat in the old rock- 
 ing - chair by the door, with Anna on the step at 
 her feet, and Rex standing near, the moonlight 
 falling through the maples on them all, while 
 they went over and over again the Bible class 
 lessons of Anna's Sabbath school. 
 
 Rachel, too, brought her many a practical idea 
 to aid her in her week - day labors. In the in- 
 terest of Anna and her strawberries she had 
 grown into the habit of looking over William's 
 various agricultural papers, and she gleaned 
 many a valuable idea from the experience of the 
 old gardener himself. It may be generally 
 
The Harvest. 277 
 
 enough known now, but it was quite a new idea 
 then which Rachel carried to Anna, that it was 
 the practice of old English gardeners to carefully 
 rake away, or separate, the winter mulch of 
 straw from around the crown of the plant, and 
 then leave the ground entirely undisturbed until 
 the berries were gathered. Kachel impressed it 
 upon her not to disturb the ground upon any ac- 
 count, — not a leaf, not a tiny rootlet, must be 
 displaced. 
 
 Rachel never failed to walk through the straw- 
 berry grounds when she visited Anna. And, 
 indeed, those acres of emerald strawberry leafage 
 had been something beautiful to behold all the 
 season ; and they had watched the clusters up 
 from the little, hard, green, seedy balls until now 
 the plants were loaded with rapidly ripening 
 fruit. Mrs. May lie and Anna both refrained 
 from speculating on the probable result, but 
 Anna did not think that the acres of which she 
 had read could have been more heavily loaded. 
 
278 Anna Maylie. 
 
 Preparations for the harvest were now going 
 on under the supervision of Eex. Williams had 
 partially prepared him to estimate the probable 
 yield, and he had ordered boxes and crates to an 
 extent which would have alarmed Anna. He had 
 also accompanied Judge Mansfield on one of hid 
 trips to the city, and while there had taken a look 
 at the markets and obtained much valuable in- 
 formation ; and when he came home he was able 
 to tell Anna just how, and when, and where, and 
 to whom, to ship her berries. 
 
 She had engaged every family on the Common 
 for the fast - approaching harvest. In fact, her 
 entire Sunday-school was laid under contribution. 
 As a matter of course, the strange doings at the 
 Widow Maylie's had come to be the one absorb- 
 ing theme of conversation among men, women 
 and children. The men themselves had, at last, 
 become impressed with the idea that " straw- 
 berries" was an actual " business" — a business 
 with money in it ; and they respectfully watched 
 
The Harvest: 279 
 
 the result of " that girl's" experiment, and were 
 thoroughly prepared to be astonished at nothing 
 they might see or hear. As for the children, 
 their glee and excitement were unbounded. They 
 were never through counting the days when the 
 harvest would begin ; and as the time drew 
 nearer, the last exclamation as they went to bed, 
 and the first as they woke, was, — " Day after to- 
 morrow, Ned ! " " Hurrah ! only just one more 
 day, Aggy, and then we shall go ! " 
 
 Many a fierce little quarrel, with now and then 
 a blow, followed the excited boastings of one am- 
 bitious girl over another as to the number of 
 boxes she should probably pick. Never before, 
 on Morristown Common, had such discussions 
 been heard respecting the superiority of pink 
 hair -ribbons over blue, and gingham over cali- 
 co, as were now to be heard among those poor 
 children when, after a slow and painful computa- 
 tion of what a hundred quarts would amount to 
 at two cents per quart, they each announced what 
 
280 Anna Maylie, 
 
 they should expend their money for. And it in- 
 variably was for something to wear to Sunday- 
 school. What visions of little calico parasols 
 with scalloped edges, and morocco shoes, and 
 edgings for their " pantalets," — using the homely 
 phrase they had always heard ; and new Testa- 
 ments danced before the eyes of those children 
 who never before in all their lives had had a 
 penny to spend ! 
 
 But all this excitement was nothing in com- 
 parison with the intense feeling which had been 
 growing all summer in the minds of the women 
 of Morristown Common. They had heard Mrs. 
 Maylie and Anna talk ; they had seen them at 
 work, not only at their strawberries, but at cur- 
 rant bushes, at grape- vines, among their sweet 
 corn and early potatoes, planting and watching 
 cucumbers and squashes, weeding their trim 
 onion and beet beds, hoeing their cabbages, 
 trellising and trimming their tomatoes ; and many 
 a panful of fi;esh vegetables from that smiling gar- 
 
The Harvest, 281 
 
 den had found its way to the house of one and 
 another of their number. They saw what a not - 
 over -strong woman and her daughter had accom- 
 plished ; and then they looked at their own waste 
 land and at their husbands, and brothers, and 
 sons, strong of limb and muscle, and out of em- 
 ployment half the time. 
 
 Anna was not blind to small changes now. 
 She saw this first vague stir of energy, and it 
 gave her a prophetic glimpse of still another use 
 which God might graciously intend to make of 
 her and her influence in His o^reat desis^n. In 
 humble faith and gratitude she softly repeated : 
 
 " Whereunto shall I liken the kingdom of 
 God? It is like leaven which a woman took and 
 hid in three measures of meal until the whole was 
 leavened." 
 
 Then came the strawberry harvest. Rex 
 brought her reports of wet weather and rotting 
 fruit in distant localities, but the weather here 
 was beautiful. Shower after shower had gently 
 
282 Anna Mayh'e. 
 
 done its work for the growing berries during the 
 last weeks, and now the hot sunshine crimsoned 
 them to luscious sweetness. The days were like a 
 festival. The busy scene had a strong fascination 
 for Rachel, as she stood with Anna under the 
 maples and watched the passing and repassing 
 women and children who gaily dotted those neat- 
 ly-fenced acres which once were so drearily 
 waste. And as she looked upon the industrious 
 multitude, and saw the rapidly - filling crates, and 
 the great market - wagon constantly coming and 
 going, and noted Anna's orderly supervision of 
 the whole, Eachel felt, as she remembered her 
 own share in it, that this was the one deed of her 
 whole life of which she might be justly proud. 
 
 The busy, lovely days went by, one by one. 
 Anna sometimes wondered if she was not exist- 
 ing in a dream, as she saw the constant loads of 
 fruit leaving for the depot, and if she should not 
 soon wake and find it was a dream, and herself 
 standing upon the old weedy waste with the old 
 
The Harvest. 283 
 
 heart-ache and discontent. She never once tried 
 to make an estimate of the result. She had no 
 idea at all of the number of quarts, " several hun- 
 dred I dare say, perhaps a thousand, or even two 
 thousand", she thought, when she thought of it 
 at all. For her entire attention was devoted to 
 the supervision of the pickers ; the loading and 
 shipping, the letter - writing and the accounts, 
 were all left to Rex. 
 
 Every day Rachel came over, and to herself 
 she reserved the pleasure of giving the tired, 
 sun - burned band of laborers a little fete on the 
 last day under the maples. " It shall be no 
 trouble to any one ; you are not to give it a 
 thought," she said to Mrs. Maylie, who at once 
 began feeling anxious when she learned of the ar- 
 rangement. Rachel took it all within her own 
 hands. A man came up from the Mansfield es 
 tablishment and erected a long, rough table under 
 the trees, and then, in the morning, Rachel ap- 
 peared in a light wagon which was laden with 
 
284 Anna Maylie, 
 
 her dishes, and vases, and table - cloths, her ice - 
 cream freezers and her baskets of cake. How 
 gay and delighted she was that day ! Anna had 
 never seen her quiet air so wholly laid aside 
 before. Dressed in just a simple muslin with a 
 ruffle at the throat, and her hair tucked behind 
 her ears, she could hardly realize that this was 
 the young lady she had more than once seen at 
 some of the great church festivals in silk, point 
 lace and rubies. 
 
 " Mrs. Jenkins and Mary would like to come 
 and do the work," she said to Anna, as she 
 tripped to and fro ; " but it is the work itself that 
 delights me. I am going to do everything my- 
 self. I told Mary she could come over and as- 
 sist about the ice - cream, — that is all the help I 
 need. You are to do nothing at all. Mary will 
 help me wait on the table, and you and Rex will 
 sit in state and pay your people." 
 
 " That would be the proper time to pay them , 
 would n't it ? " mused Anna. " I wonder how 
 
The Harvest, 285 
 
 much it is — and whether — and you suppose 
 he"— 
 
 She paused. " I wonder if E,ex has thought 
 — ^has made any provision." 
 
 Eachel laughed. " Enter, fairy god - mother, 
 now. I only asked you so that you might prop- 
 erly appreciate my thoughtfulness. I have 
 brought over a blank check, which father said I 
 was to fill out when I learned what sum you 
 needed, and send Rex with it to the bank." 
 
 " You are always thoughtful, dear Rachel," 
 Anna said. " Mother has some money by her, 
 but I presume not enough. I will learn as soon 
 as Rex comes back." 
 
 At noon the last berry was picked. The weary 
 laborers admitted that they were glad that the 
 long - looked for season was over. They looked 
 so weary, and so flushed with the heat, as they 
 passed through the gate ! They were a motley 
 band, with their dusty garments and stained fin- 
 gers ; and their faces expressed plainly enough 
 
286 Anna Maylie, 
 
 that they had never seen anything which looked 
 quite so cool and inviting as that long table 
 which stood in picnic array under the green trees. 
 And it was a pretty, holiday sight, with its 
 snowy linen, and delicate china, glittering glass, 
 and tall vases of flowers, standing there in the 
 cool, green, wavering shadows. Almost re- 
 freshed with the mere sight, they hurried on home 
 to rest, and to don their holiday attire for the 
 four o'clock supper. 
 
 About two o'clock Rex came up from the de- 
 pot. " The last quart is shipped, ladies ! " he 
 announced with a low bow. "And now, with 
 your permission, exit Rex ! " he added with a 
 merry glance at the table, " for I presume * none 
 but gentlemen admitted here' will be the ordei 
 for the remainder of the day," and he surveyed 
 himself with an expressive glance. 
 
 He did indeed look tired, sun - burned , and 
 dusty ; but Anna laughed and called him in. 
 " How much money shall we need in order to pay 
 
The Harvest. 287 
 
 our Imnds?" she inquired. " Kacliel says, pay 
 them this afternoon when they are all here to- 
 gether. Mother has twenty - five dollars in the 
 house, but I thought it probably would not be 
 sufficient. You have kept account, I suppose?" 
 
 Rex looked at the girl with a droll expression 
 upon his countenance, — again and again, with 
 the same merry light in his eye, until finally he 
 threw himself down in a chair and laughed heart- 
 ily. Anna regarded him in much perplexity, 
 and grew half vexed at last. 
 
 "What ails you, Eex?" 
 
 He sobered himself as well as he could, and 
 said, — "Excuse me, Anna. But your grave ab- 
 surdity is irresistible. Twenty - five dollars in- 
 deed ! Child, how many quarts of berries do 
 you suppose have been picked and shipped from 
 here these last few days ? " 
 
 " I do n't know, I am sure," she answered. 
 " A great many ; I suppose — perhaps a couple 
 of thousands — I do n't know that I should be 
 
288 Anna Maylie, 
 
 surprised to hear you say three thousand. I 
 know I have been greatly astonished to see that 
 market-wagon keep coming." 
 
 " A couple of thousand ! three thousand ! 
 Rachel has not told you, then. Look here, Anna !" 
 He took from the inside pocket of his coat a 
 memorandum book and handed it to her. She took 
 it and studied the entries, and the long columns 
 of figures, and its list of names and accounts, for 
 along, long time, and then sat down and gazed at 
 him with such incredulous astonishment depicted 
 in her wide, brown eyes that he fell to laughing 
 again. 
 
 " Nine thousand six hundred quarts ! " she 
 said at last. " I should be inclined to think this 
 was some joke upon me, Rex, only it is not quite 
 like you." 
 
 Some one stooped down and kissed her. " No, 
 dear, it is all true," said ilachel's voice. " You 
 and your mother are henceforth going to be out 
 of the reach of care, and you deserve it, little 
 
The Harvest. 289 
 
 girl. Brave hearts, like yours, seldom go unre- 
 warded." 
 
 Anna could only hide her tearful face against 
 Rachel's shoulder ; and when the girls looked up, 
 Rex was gone. Then Rachel sat down by 
 Anna's side and carefully went over it all with 
 her. She said, "I have been patiently waiting 
 to enjoy your surprise, Anna, for I felt sure that 
 you had no idea of the return which your land 
 and labor have been making you. I know, for 
 Rex has kept me well-informed. But you are 
 far too much astonished, Anna. You must re- 
 member that it is the production, not of a simple 
 strawberry plat, but of three acres of ground. 
 The yield ought to have been greater. Father 
 was talkinoj with Williams about it this morninsr. 
 Williams says it is only an ordinary yield. He 
 says that, with thorough culture and the use of 
 proper fertilizers, the quantity of fruit may be 
 doubled. But let us see now what sum of money 
 you will need that you may pay your people, — 
 
290 Anna Maylie. 
 
 one hundred ninety -two dollars, is it not? Well, 
 that is of little consequence. It is of more inter- 
 est to ascertain what will remain to you, my 
 faithful little Anna. Both father and Rex say 
 that expenses can not reduce the net profits be- 
 low twenty cents per quart this year, because the 
 wet weather has been so unfavorable to the gen- 
 eral crop. So we can determine quite accurate- 
 ly, I think. If their estimate proves correct, 
 Anna, there will remain to you one thousand 
 nine hundred and twenty dollars." 
 
 She paused, and looked at Anna. But Anna 
 was silent ; she did not even raise her eyes, or 
 smile. She only sat and held Rachel's hand and 
 tried to think ; she had indeed had no idea of the 
 magnitude of her business. 
 
 But the results were really what Rex and Judge 
 Mansfield had predicted. Strawberry farms 
 were not so common then as they are now, and 
 tlie distance to New York was so short that the 
 fruit arrived in o:ood condition. After all ex- 
 
The Harvest. 
 
 291 
 
 penses were paid. Rex placed nearly two thou- 
 sand dollars in her hands. 
 
 " At last I have a worthy offering ; for there 
 are two hundred dollars for the Master's work," 
 was Anna's chief comment. And after long 
 hours of thought, she sought her mother for her 
 approval concerning a plan which she had con- 
 ceived and matured. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP. 
 
 HE morning after her money came, 
 Anna rose joyous as a lark, and she 
 sang like any lark, too. Rex, in his 
 chamber, poring over his books, heard 
 her, and sighed. " Happy Anna, who has done 
 so much ! I wonder if she '11 miss her faithful 
 old Rex when he's gone? — I believe she will. 
 But I am not needed here: she will accomplish 
 all that I should ; — trust Anna May lie for that ! 
 But what shall I do without her at my right hand, 
 — she who gave me the first impulse toward 
 good that I ever had ? I must tell her to - day 
 
He Giveth His Beloved Sleep. 293 
 
 that I am going, and poor Lute too, and Prof. 
 Kinney ; it is not what he has planned for me I 
 know, but it is the best way open. God surely 
 knows which is fittest for me, — to follow my own 
 ambition, or to go searching for His scattered 
 sheep and bear them His blessed Word. To be 
 willing to obey His will is better than to cultivate 
 my humble talents, I suspect." 
 
 He spoke cheerfully, but there was the sadness 
 of self-renunciation upon brow and lip ; and his 
 eyes closed sadly as Anna's voice came floating 
 up through the trees, and he listened for a mo- 
 ment. It was "Jerusalem the Golden" which 
 she sang as she flitted in and out, and her voice 
 rang clear and triumphant : 
 
 " There is the throne of David, 
 
 And there, from care released, 
 The shout of them that triumph, 
 
 The song of them that feast. 
 And they who with their Leader 
 
 Have conquered in the fight, 
 Forever and forever 
 
 Are clad in robes of white." 
 
294 Anna MayUe. 
 
 " I can see," he said as he looked down upon 
 the scene lately so busy, " that this will lead to 
 wealth, though I know how Anna will stand in 
 its midst, — just a faithful steward of God's 
 bounty, that is all, — dear, true little girl ! But 
 it will place her far enough out of Rex Palmer's 
 reach. We shall never work side by side, all 
 through life, as I know now I had hoped. She 
 will be gone when I come home, and I shall 
 only hear of her. I shall hear of her I know, 
 for, whatever she becomes aud wherever she is, 
 she will never be unfaithful to dear old Morris- 
 town Common." 
 
 Anna sang on : 
 
 " Jerusalem the golden, 
 
 With milk and honey blest, 
 Beneath thy contemplation 
 
 Sink heart and voice opprest. 
 I know not, oh I I know not 
 
 What joys await us there. 
 What radiancy of glory, 
 
 What bliss beyond compare." 
 
 Words and time were in unison with her glad 
 
He Giveth His Beloved Sleep, 295 
 
 thoughts. " Rex will do more than the bare 
 money could if I paid it into the treasury. I 
 think I am sure of the plan. But Rachel will 
 know, and Miss Clemmer, too, can tell me, for 
 her brother was educated at college. And if we 
 can only put Rex there safe for a year's stay, I 
 will just trust God to keep him there. And He 
 will surely do it if it is the place for him." 
 
 After breakfast she busied herself out of doors, 
 raking away the old mulch from the strawberries 
 preparatory to giving them a thorough hoeing. 
 So accustomed was our simple Anna to daily 
 labor, that she had not yet realized that she might 
 now afford herself a rest. Through the trees she 
 caught a glimpse of Rex at the open window, and 
 she was vaguely wondering why he did not come 
 down, when she heard the gate open, and saw a 
 boy whom she knew was employed at the Clem- 
 mers. Instead of going to the door he came 
 directly to her, and she foreboded ill tidings as 
 he handed her a note. 
 
296 Anna May He, 
 
 It was from Miss Gertie, saying that her sis- 
 ter had grown worse, and she wished Annate 
 come and stay a few days with them. "We 
 need some one to sit by her constantly, and, 
 though we have plenty of nurses, sister has ex- 
 pressed a wish for you." 
 
 Gertie's words were few and simple ; but as 
 Anna's hand fell heavily to her side, and she 
 stood with closed eyes, she felt only too surely 
 that the end was near. 
 
 Eousing herself, she dismissed the boy, and 
 passing under the old apple-trees, looked up to 
 Ilex's window and called. When he came down, 
 she told him ia a few quiet words, and then 
 asked him, Would he see to the garden a few 
 days longer, and take her mother and little Jim 
 in his care ? 
 
 He waited so long before answering her that 
 Anna wondered. Finally he said, in a low, 
 grave voice, quite unlike his own, — "Yes; I 
 will stay. But, Anna, I had intended to say 
 
Bq Giveih His Beloved Sleep. 297 
 
 good - bye to you and to everybody else here to- 
 day, or to - morrow at the farthest." Here he 
 paused, for every trace of color had left his listen- 
 er's cheeks. " It ought not to seem strange to 
 any one. I am too old for a school -boy; be- 
 sides, I've worthless years to make up." 
 
 She interrupted him with an impatient ges- 
 ture, 
 
 " Where were you going ? " 
 
 "As a colporter to the far West." 
 
 " Indeed, you 're not ! " she exclaimed with her 
 old energy. " Just drop this plan until I can 
 talk with you ! I know much better than you do 
 where you're going ! Forgive me, Eex,"she added 
 with a blush. " I do n't know how to choose 
 my words like Rachel. But I want you to prom- 
 ise me that you will defer your plans a few 
 days." 
 
 " I shall stay if you wish it, of course. You 
 will find me here when you come back." 
 
 Anna turned away. It came over her with 
 
298 Anna Maylie. 
 
 eucli force how she might come back, — with 
 what a heart - ache, and from what solemn 
 scenes. 
 
 Still she was not prepared. Not even for the 
 change in Miss Clemmer's room, so darkened and 
 hushed. There was no lovely figure in its white 
 wrapper beckoning to her from the familiar sofa. 
 The sofa and the flowers were gone. A low 
 couch stood in the center of the room, and there , 
 white as a lily laid among the snowy pillows, her 
 teacher rested. Gertie sat slowly fanning her, 
 and one or two nurses were moving silently 
 about. 
 
 The large blue eyes unclosed, and for a mo- 
 ment rested upon her face. With a faint smile 
 she whispered to Gertie, — "Go, dear, and lie 
 down. Anna will take your place." 
 
 Gertie silently motioned Anna to the chair. 
 Her eyes were red with weeping, and she looked 
 60 sad and weary. At the door she beckoned 
 Anna. "If she sinks again, come to me at once. 
 
He Giveth His Beloved Sleep, 299 
 
 My room is this one. Papa is in the library. 
 But I shall not be long away. We thought once 
 in the night thptt she was going. O Anna May- 
 lie, you can pray, — ask God to spare my sis- 
 ter I » 
 
 She softly came back, but Miss Clemmer had 
 no consciousness of her return. She sat down 
 and gazed at the thin, transparent hand which 
 now and then was thrown wearily above her head ; 
 she remembered so well its warm, soft clasp on 
 those Sabbath mornings which could never come 
 again. How peaceful the face was, with its 
 closed eyes, and the faint breath just lifting the 
 snowy muslin at her throat. It was only last 
 week that she had seen her ; how could there 
 have been such a change ? 
 
 The day wore away in the darkened chamber, 
 — long, golden hours without. Anna could hear 
 the songs and the merry twitter of careless birds. 
 Bee and butterfly and breeze were rife among the 
 flowers she would never tend again. Carriages 
 
300 Anna Maylie, 
 
 passed and repassed outside, and the busy world 
 hurried by on its errands. 
 
 Once Dr. Mason came to the door, but de- 
 clined to go in. There was a long, sorrowful^ 
 parting look at the one who had worked so faith- 
 fully in his field, and had sunk down in weari- 
 ness among her sheaves while it was yet noon. 
 Once, when they lifted the shadowy figure, she 
 seemed to revive and recognize Anna, and whis- 
 pered faintly, — " Among the shadows of the 
 valley, Anna, — but the Angel of the Covenant 
 walks before me." 
 
 Toward evening she revived ; and her voice 
 grew clear once more. From the pillows she 
 looked at Anna a lons^ time with an eager and 
 loving look, and once more Anna felt the clasp 
 of the little hand which had led her to the feet of 
 Jesus. 
 
 At last she said : " I think my work is not 
 yet done. Sister has promised me that she would 
 be a Christian, but there are other promises which 
 
He Giveth His Beloved Sleep, 301 
 
 I must bear to the Master ; — I think I have been 
 sent back for these." 
 
 She called Gertie to her side and said, faintly, 
 — " Let me see my girls once more." 
 
 Her voice was fast sinking back to the tremu- 
 lous, gasping whisper, but Gertie could not re- 
 fuse her. "Yes, Elizabeth, they shall come. 
 Anna will go for Satie and Clara ; Rachel 
 and Fanny are already here." 
 
 With pale cheeks the girls followed Gertie in, 
 one by one, — Satie — ^Fanny — Clara. And as 
 she looked upon those precious faces which now 
 she should never see lit with love for the Saviour, 
 and as she felt that through all time and eternity 
 her gaze might never rest on them again, — never 
 — never, — her eyes saddened with the great 
 heart - break of an everlasting farewell. She 
 turned away her head with a rush of emotion 
 which shook her frail form like a reed in the 
 tempest. Gertie sprang to her side in alarm, — • 
 she had fainted. . . . Gertie turned to- 
 
302 Anna Maylie. 
 
 wards the frightened girls where they stood sob- 
 bing in the hall. "Fanny, Clara, Satie, my 
 sister will never be able to speak to you again, — 
 it is almost over, — but she wanted yoa to love 
 Jesus. She wanted to know if she should look 
 for you in heaven, — oh, did you not see? I 
 shall strive to meet her there." 
 
 Fanny clasped her hands convulsively. " If 
 there comes a moment when she knows, tell her 
 we will — we will!" 
 
 She never revived from that swoon so akin to 
 death. She lapsed from the swoon into slumber, 
 — a slumber so quiet and imperceptible that they 
 scarcely knew whether it was slumber. Solemn- 
 ly the hours came and went on shadowy wing. 
 Without, Anna knew the summer moon was 
 shining, and the world, asleep in its starlit beau- 
 ty, was waiting for the coming of gladness and 
 morning. But within, life and thought stood 
 still. The fiiint striking of clocks in distant 
 
He Giveth His Beloved Sleep, 303 
 
 rooms reached Anna's ear, but there was no other 
 sound or movement to mark \he flight of the 
 hushed hours. 
 
 But just at daybreak there was a change, — just 
 a flutter of the fingers, and with a sigh, a sigh of 
 utter rest — she was gone. 
 
 "And I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto 
 me. Write. Blessed are the dead which die in the 
 Lord from henceforth : Yea, saith the Spirit, that 
 they may rest from their labors ; and their works 
 do follow them." 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 ^ LL was over, — earth to earth, 
 and dust to dust, and the Spirit to 
 ^^ God who gave it. 
 
 Like one who sees in a dream, 
 Anna Maylie had seen the carriages gather and 
 pause within the grounds, — the hearse, with its 
 solemn sables and nodding plumes, standing its 
 dreary hour in front of the great hall ; she had 
 taken her place with Fanny, and Clara, and Satie, 
 and E-achel, in the fjreat drawin^: - room where 
 the dead rested in her serene and motionless re- 
 
A Message from the Dead, 305 
 
 pose, while those whom she head loved came and 
 went with their useless sorrow and unavailinsj 
 tears. Human love felt once as^ain the useless- 
 ness of its wild appeal and vain protest against 
 death, as the psalm of the old centuries sounded 
 in its ear : 
 
 " Lord, Thou hast beeen our dwelling place in 
 all generations. 
 
 " Before the mountains were brought forth, or 
 ever Thou hadst formed the earth and the world, 
 even from everlasting to everlasting Thou art 
 God. 
 
 " Thou turnest man to destruction ; and sayest, 
 Return ye children of men. 
 
 " For a thousand years in thy sight are but as 
 yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the 
 night. 
 
 "Thou carriest them away as with a flood ; they 
 are as a sleep ; in the morning they are like grass 
 which groweth up ; in the evening it is cut down 
 aad withereth. 
 
306 Anna Maylie. 
 
 " For we are consumed by Thine anger, and by 
 Thy wrath are we troubled." 
 
 She had listened to the words of prayer and 
 resignation that followed, and then, seated by 
 Eachel's side, she had wound slowly in the long 
 procession to the church, and had followed with 
 the class as they bore her teacher within for her 
 solemn hour's rest before the altar where, years 
 before, she had consecrated her life to God. She 
 had listened while the firm words of consolation 
 and of faith had been pronounced, and dirge and 
 requiem chanted over her who had fallen asleep 
 in the sure hope of a resurrection, and then, by 
 Eachel's side, she had taken her last long look of 
 the serene face which was stamped forevermore 
 with an expression of sublime trust and untroub- 
 led waiting. 
 
 Now, at Gertie's especial request, she had re- 
 turned. She had walked back quietly and alone 
 to the hushed house where the streamers of crape 
 still waved in the summer breeze, and the sun 
 
A Ifessage from the Dead, 307 
 
 poured brightly through the open windows of 
 the beautiful chamber above, whose young mis- 
 tress had gone forth to come again no more for- 
 ever. She could see that the blinds were thrown 
 back and the long windows standing open, as she 
 came up, and her blossoming plants in their gay- 
 est array upon the balcony without, whence so 
 many mornings that sweet face had looked down 
 upon her with its welcome as she came to her 
 labors in the grounds below. 
 
 Scarcely bestowing a thought upon the reason 
 why a request for her return had been made, she 
 sat down in the sitting - room to wait until Ger- 
 tie should appear. Mechanically she opened the 
 heavy Bible which rested upon the table before 
 her, and sought out those sublime words of cheer 
 which had been pronounced at the grave : 
 
 " So also is the resurrection of the dead. It 
 is sown in corruption ; it is raised in incorrup- 
 tion: 
 
 " It is sown in dishonor ; it is raised in glory : 
 
308 Anna Maylie. 
 
 it is sown in weakness ; it is raised in power : 
 
 " It is sown a natural body ; it is raised a spir- 
 itual body. 
 
 And as we have borne the image of the earthy, 
 we shall also bear the image of the heavenly." 
 
 Anna closed her eyes and thought : " And 
 thus it will be when I see her again ! When I 
 see her again ! Shall I know the glorified face in 
 its heavenly beauty ? When I see her again she 
 will be in the image of the heavenly, wearing the 
 robe of white, bearing aloft the palm of praise, 
 singing the new song, called by her new name." 
 
 She looked up with a start as Gertie's hand 
 was placed upon her shoulder. How thin, and 
 sad, and weary, the young sister looked in her 
 dress of heavy mourning ! Anna asked herself, 
 " As these memories can not fade from me, will 
 it be possible for her to forget ? Will I ever hear 
 of her again as the gay Gertie Clemmer ? " 
 
 " I have allowed you to wait a long time, I 
 fear," she said, gently. " I had almost forgotten 
 
A Message from the Dead, 809 
 
 that you must be here. Papa would Hke to see 
 us in the library. Come with me, if you 
 please." 
 
 Wondering, Anna rose and followed her as 
 she traversed still a different hail from any she had 
 ever entered. It was warm and brilliant with the 
 sunshine which streamed through the great stained 
 window and fell in rainbow floods upon the tes- 
 sellated floor. Gertie swung back a heavy door, 
 and then, for the first time, Anna stood within 
 the magnificent Clemmer library. Furnished 
 in the severest taste, it yet impressed her, unac- 
 customed as she was, with the feeling that almost 
 boundless wealth had been required to gather to- 
 gether its treasures of thought. 
 - In a large arm - chair, wearing a look of 
 shrinkinsr within himself as if he had received 
 some crushing blow, Anna saw an old man 
 whom she could with difiiculty, at the first glance, 
 recognize as Mr. Clemmer, — so old, so changed 
 did he seem, so changed from the fine - looking 
 
310 Anna May lie, 
 
 old gentleman with fair complexion and faultless 
 attire, whom she often met upon his daily way to 
 the bank. 
 
 As they entered, he looked up absently, then 
 slowly passed his hand across his brow, as if to 
 summon back his recollection. "I have brouo:ht 
 Anna Maylie, as you wished. Papa," Gertie said, 
 in a tone of explanation. 
 
 " Yes — yes," he answered ; " yes, I remember. 
 Give her a seat, Gertrude." 
 
 He was still in his funeral black, and Anna 
 could see that it was not simply a moment of 
 mournful abandonment to the desolation of his 
 house which lent him that semblance of advanced 
 age. Wrinkles, and gray hair, and leaden com- 
 plexion remained to testify to the ravages of hu- 
 man grief, and he leaned upon his staff in weak- 
 ness as he passed to the table and unlocked a 
 drawer. He took from thence a letter, and sat 
 down. Turning to Anna, he thus addressed 
 her : 
 
A. Message from the Dead, 311 
 
 "About two months since, when my daughter 
 Elizabeth first felt that her last illness was ap- 
 proaching, she came to me and asked my counsel 
 and approval concerning the disposition of a small 
 personal property which had been bequeathed to 
 her by an aunt. This property consisted of a 
 valuable set of pearls, principally valuable to us, 
 however, because they have been in the Clemmer 
 family for over a century. I proposed to become 
 their purchaser, since she wished their value in 
 the form of money, but she seemed to feel that 
 she had consecrated the pearls themselves, and 
 that if I took them it would simply amount to the 
 fact of the money being my gift instead of hers, 
 as the pearls would still be retained in the fam- 
 ily. Feeling myself that they were now conse- 
 crated to the service of God, I finally disposed of 
 them, and placed their value in her hands in the 
 form of the original draft, which she preferred to 
 exchange for a check upon our bank. This 
 check you will find in the letter which I hold. 
 
312 Anna Maylie, 
 
 Singularly, perhaps, she has constituted yon, 
 Anna May lie, the trustee of this sum of money, 
 and informed me that all needful instructions for 
 its use are contained in this letter. 
 
 "Anxious to obey her wishes as literally as pos- 
 sible, and learning that the young man whom 
 they concern has already formed a plan which 
 might delay or obstruct the fulfillment of those 
 wishes, I have thought it necessary, thus early, 
 to place the matter in your hands. I do not my- 
 self think it needful to question you, as I had the 
 fullest confidence in my daughter's judgment. I 
 shall add, however, that if you or Mr. Palmer 
 need advice or further assistance, I stand ^ready 
 both to advise and assist." 
 
 Anna received the letter in bewildered silence, 
 but her name inscribed upon it in those delicate 
 characters so familiar to her now, touched her 
 heart anew, and the tears fell fast and heavy upon 
 this message from the dead. Gertie had risen, 
 and she rose also, and would have endeavored to 
 
A Message from the Dead. 31 j 
 
 speak, but she saw that Mr. Clemmer had again 
 relapsed into his sad forgetfulness. With fresh 
 tears upon her own face, Gertie quietly led the 
 way forth. 
 
 As she stood in the hall door a moment, she 
 placed in Anna's hand the familiar little Bible 
 from which she had been taught so many Sab- 
 baths, and said, — " Sister left a memento for 
 each of her girls ; but I think yours is most pre^ 
 ious of all ; — all through it are marked texts and 
 favorite passages, and she told me, Anna, that 
 she had marked many especially for you, and I 
 see that she has written your own name against 
 these. And the pearls, Anna ; — she talked with 
 me about them at the first, — as they would have 
 come to me, — but I was entirely willing that 
 she should appropriate them as she wished. I 
 can see her now as she said, so earnestly, — 'Let 
 them go, Gertie, and shed the light of heaven on 
 lost and benighted souls.' She was certain that 
 he would not betray her trust, — this Eexford 
 
314 Anna Maylie, 
 
 Palmer, — and you are certain too, Anna, are 
 you not ? But I forget that you have not yet read 
 this letter, so I will not detain you. Come some- 
 times and see me, Anna, for her sake." 
 
 In her own room at home, she at last sat down 
 to read the letter. It was with a feeling akin to 
 that with which we enter the presence of the 
 dead, that she approached this message from the 
 World Beyond. As she reverently unfolded the 
 soft, satiny leaves which she knew her hands had 
 folded away, there slipped from within a tress of 
 hair, — silken, brown, and living now, — and 
 after long, long years, when, beneath the daisied 
 sod, brow of beauty and cheek and lip and tress 
 had turned back to dust, this would remain, 
 silken, and brown, and living still. 
 
 Tenderly laying it aside, Anna returned to her 
 letter. Within the envelope she saw a folded 
 paper, — doubtless the check of which Mr. Clem- 
 mer had spoken, and which was still a mystery, 
 and another enveloped letter. Eemoving it, she 
 
ji Message from the Dead, 315 
 
 saw that it was addressed to Eexford Palmer. 
 Turning finally to her own, she read : 
 
 " My Dear AniiJa :— 
 
 " I have waited long for a day 
 when I shouM feel sufficiently well and strong to summon 
 yourself and your friend Eexford to hear what I wish to say. 
 But I am convinced, at last, that I have no reasonable right to 
 look forward ; and, limited by my little strength, I can only 
 leave a written message. 
 
 " You will read these tremulous lines upon a day when she 
 who writes them will be gone to her long home, and the 
 mourners are going about the streets. If the time be soon, or 
 slow, or swift, I know not. I only surely know that it ap- 
 proaches, and that I must hasten to do what I may of my 
 work, * or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl 
 be broken.' In the dawning light of Eternity, which is fall- 
 ing even now around me, I have discovered neglected oppor- 
 tunities and wasted wealth. Not always have my zeal and 
 love been fervent, and commensurate with my position and 
 my means. I sometimes feel that I shall look back from 
 heaven itself with regretful eyes to the fields of earth white 
 with the ripening harvest, and repent and bewail my sloth, 
 unless, in these hours wbich yet remain, I hasten to repair my 
 inactivity. 
 
 " It has been in my thoughts and prayers for a long period 
 to reach forth my hand, when the proper time should arrive, 
 to help your friend, Eexford Palmer, up where he might do 
 his best and worthiest service for the Master whose trust I 
 have not always fulfilled. I have not remained blind to his 
 talent for active and public labor. I am convinced that he has 
 been fitted by nature to teach, to guide, to lead, to inspire. 
 
316 Anna Maylie, 
 
 To myself I have often pictured his power, when his iut/ellect 
 shall become trained and disciplined to perfectly obey the dic- 
 tates of his zeal and his love for Jesus. I shall never see it. 
 But lately I have thought that I might leave Mm in my place 
 in the field and go home rejoicing. 
 
 " In this spirit of faith and hope, I have matured my phins. 
 I have consulted those who understand better than I his intel- 
 lectual capacity, and T offer him now the opportunity of a 
 thorough collegiate and theological education. At my request, 
 my father would defray expenses of this cherished wish, but 
 my own hands must needs accomplish, alone, their last labor. 
 I alone will equip my substitute for the field. 
 
 " From the sale of the pearls you have handled so often, 
 Anna, delighting in their pure, soft, glancing light, I have re- 
 alized two thousand dollars, and this sum I place in your 
 hands in trust for the purpose I have named. I prefer to 
 trust you of all others, because you, better than any other, 
 know if he loves Jesus with entire devotion, and if, above all 
 things else, he would choose the ministry for the one absorb- 
 ing work of his life. I say again, I can trust you, Anna, in 
 this, as I can trust no one else. You can not be deceived; a 
 partial stranger might. If he chooses the ministry with hearty 
 conviction and eager zeal, then say to Mm that Prof. Kinney is 
 aware of all my wishes, my preferences, my opinions in re- 
 gard to a choice of school and of a field of labor, and he will 
 also gladly bestow all necessary advice and information. 
 
 " I leave it now entirely to your discretion, your convic- 
 tions, your decisions, Anna. Should they prove adverse, you 
 will never speak of this to him, neither give him the accom- 
 panying letter. In this case, the money should go to the Mis- 
 sions,where it will still work for Jesus, only it would be sweeJ 
 
A Message from the Dead, 317 
 
 in heaven to know that T could call the laborer by name I" 
 
 Tendei' words, — words of loving cheer and en- 
 couragement there were for Anna herself, — 
 words of farewell and of blessed hope. 
 
 " So," said Anna with a sigh, " it is not to be 
 I, with my little tithes, who will educate Rex. 
 Heaven's own Mighty Hand has taken the work 
 from my weak and trembling fingers." 
 
 After hours of thought, she placed the letter 
 itself in the hands of Rex, and left him to the 
 perusal of its pages and those of his own. 
 
 He returned not to her that day. She waited 
 calmly and cheerfully, thankful that he gave it 
 long thought and prayer, for not in his own wis- 
 dom would she have him accept or refuse the 
 trust. During the day following she had scarce- 
 ly a glimpse of him, but in the evening, as she 
 stood under the maples, looking down the long 
 vista of usefulness which was opened before him 
 by Miss Clemmer's dying hand, she saw him ap- 
 proaching. He handed her the letter without a 
 
318 Anna May lie. 
 
 word. As lie stood by the gate, looking thought- 
 fully away into the moon- lit distance, she studied 
 his face. Meditative and serious still were brow, 
 and lip, and eye, as if the resolve might not even 
 yet be made. She doubted not that the call was 
 from heaven. Did he? 
 
 " Well, Eex? " she said, thoughtfully. 
 
 He turned. "I will go, Anna, — shall I not? 
 Whether you believe in my devotion to the work 
 we love, I need not ask. If there had been a 
 doubt, you would not have placed the letters 
 within my knowledge. Perhaps I ought to have 
 come to you before with my decision, since this 
 bequest makes possible my most ardent desires, 
 which have long led me toward the path to which 
 she points. But even yet I am like St. Peter 
 in the prison ; after the light shone, and the 
 chains fell off, and the angel commanded him to 
 follow, he followed on and wist not it was true, 
 but thought he saw a vision. 
 
 " And, Anna, like Peter when he was come to 
 
A Message from the Dead. 
 
 319 
 
 himself, I can say : ' Now I know of a surety 
 that the Lord hath sent His angel.' " 
 
 As he said " Good night," he added, — " Per- 
 haps I ought to say that I presumed to copy her 
 letter to you, Anna." 
 
 But of his own he spoke not at all ; and Anna 
 never read its searching pages until long years 
 after. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 m THE MEMORIAL CHURCH. 
 
 ^EVEN years have come and gone 
 ^ since Miss Clemmer died. Anna May- 
 lie has worked on alone, on Morris- 
 /\ 2 town Common. Only is this Morris- 
 town Common? For, after looking as long 
 as you will, there are only three or four 
 familiar landmarks. There is still the old green, 
 built around on four sides ; and the four roads 
 cross it still at right angles, leading out to B — 
 and M — and G -^ and H — . But how changed 
 
In the Memorial Church* 321 
 
 even the old green is ! Its four roads are skirted 
 with slender, young maples, carefully protected 
 fi'om possible injury, and in its grassy sections, 
 evergreens and delicate young shade -trees are 
 growing. There, where an old, deserted, tum- 
 bling blacksmith - shop stood, a neat stone 
 church has risen, with arched doors and windows, 
 and spires and pinnacles, its soft, dark -grey 
 blending gravely with the pleasant green of the 
 surrounding trees. Among the old - time maples, 
 white houses peep out on every side. But you 
 are m.ost struck with the thoroughly cultivated 
 appearance of the land around you on every side. 
 You see that trim gardens surround every house ; 
 indeed, a bird's - eye view gives you the impres- 
 sion that the landscape is one vast garden. You 
 look around for the old rose - hidden May lie 
 house, with its four strawberry acres ; there they 
 are, sloping sunnily south, and as emerald as 
 ever ; but the brown house is gone. In its place 
 stands a pretty buff cottage, with long, latticed 
 
322 Anna Maylie, 
 
 piazzas and low windows. And it is impossible 
 to mistake the lady in black, who comes to the 
 door as a slender boy of thirteen bounds through 
 the gate, and cries mischievously, " Where's 
 Anna ? He's come ! I saw him and Prof. 
 Auber get off the cars. He '11 be here soon ! — I 
 told Min, and she's off down the walk to meet 
 him. Prof. Auber went off with Judge Mans- 
 field, though. I suppose Miss Rachel is waiting, 
 too ! " 
 
 Yes, that is Mrs. Maylie ; and you, who used 
 to hear Anna sing, will recognize her voice at the 
 melodeon within. Through these years she has 
 bravely worked on alone. The boy - superin- 
 tendent has for six years been at College and 
 Theological Seminary. Even last year he was 
 not with her. The busy, young western city, 
 where he had labored so many vacations, would 
 not give him up, and she and his sister. Lute, 
 went their long railway journey to be present at 
 his ordination and installation. She left him to 
 
In the Memorial Church, 323 
 
 his chosen work, and came back among her own 
 appointed labors, to the people who loved her so, 
 to the sunny scene which had risen from the dust, 
 like the miracles of old, in answer to her prayers. 
 She looked upon her Sabbath school, — still hers 
 alone, her prayer meeting, her church; and as 
 she thought of leaving them, there tugged at her 
 heart-strings a pain akin to that felt in the sep- 
 arations which the last hour brings. She felt she 
 could never love any people as she loved this 
 earnest congregation, almost every member of 
 which owed the comfort of the daily life to her 
 influence and example. 
 
 For, after her first success, there was a grand 
 overturn of the settled order of things on Morris- 
 town Common. "Women came to her for encour- 
 agement, and men for information and advice. 
 Encouragement, information and advice she gave 
 freely, and she also made a few judicious loans of 
 money. Eachel worked with her, hand in hand, 
 and as she had long ago proposed, the money 
 
324 Anna Maylie. 
 
 first placed at Anna's disposal was again put in 
 needy hands. It was not long before almost ev- 
 ery family which was in any way connected with 
 Anna's school, had its acre of strawberries, its 
 plantation of blackberry and raspberry canes, or 
 its market garden. Even the old corner saloon 
 had been turned into a manufactory of berry 
 boxes and crates. 
 
 Would you like a gHmpse of Anna, herself? 
 It is the same plump figure, the same bright face. 
 But her entire demeanor has been touched with 
 something indescribable. You miss the olden 
 abruptness, and are conscious of only a graceful 
 refinement. The old earnestness still lends its 
 force to her character, but in her voice, words 
 and manner it is mellowed down into a genial 
 genuiuess, which is at once attractive, piquant and 
 irresistible. 
 
 Now that she can choose her use of money, in 
 many things Anna follows Miss Clemmer's exam- 
 ple. She makes it a matter of principle and duty 
 
In the Memorial Church, 325 
 
 to afford employment, whenever she can, to those 
 who need assistance, and especially to those who 
 will endeavor to excel in their branch of labor. 
 Last year, Lute Palmer, who has had such large 
 experience and training under Anna's own eye, 
 superintended all the business connected with the 
 berry lands, — several acres now ; for in the early 
 time of their success, Mrs. Maylie, acting upon 
 Judge Mansfield's advice, had purchased a goodly 
 portion of adjoining land before its value rose. 
 
 For two years now, Anna herself has been ab- 
 sent at a Ladies' Seminary in Jersey city, thus 
 fitting herself in a greater degree for the position 
 awaiting her. But the people of Morristown 
 Common love her just as dearly ; they look upon 
 her elegance and ease as in some way a compli- 
 ment to themselves, and feel that all her happy 
 fortune sheds its light over the entire life of the 
 Common. She is still their Sunday-school su- 
 perintendent, their adviser, and their model in all 
 things. 
 
326 Anna Maylte* 
 
 On the Common it is etil] " Our Anna," and 
 " Our Eex." 
 
 " My Rex ! " Anna says softly to herself, to - 
 night, as, standing at the window, hidden by its 
 curtained folds, she has one glimpse of the tall, 
 slight, familiar form, and the dark, flushing face, 
 as he hurries up the walk with little Min, to meet 
 Lute and Mary waiting at the gate. 
 
 The Sabbath morning to which all Morristown 
 Common had looked forward for so many months, 
 dawned cool and sweet without a cloud. At an 
 early hour, the families of the Common and the 
 hillside flowed into the new stone church, — the 
 Memorial church, which was to-day to be dedi- 
 cated. 
 
 And presently the solemn hush which befitted 
 the day and the occasion settled upon the quiet, 
 orderly, well-dressed congregation, as they 
 were vividly reminded on either side, whose 
 shadowy hand, reaching from the World Beyond, 
 
In the Memorial Church, 327 
 
 had reared this church among them. For se- 
 renely the golden September sunshine streamed 
 in softened radiance through the great tender - 
 hued Memorial Window, pensively touching those 
 rugged faces which were softening now beneath 
 the influence of the holiest feelings. Tearful eyes 
 turned again and again, that morning, to this 
 Memorial Window. For the pure, tender face of 
 the angel who stood in the great azure expanse 
 was the face of Miss Clemmer. They remem- 
 bered her so well, as they had seen her, more 
 than once, standing at Anna's gate, and looking 
 pityingly around upon the scene of their olden 
 desolateness ; and the artist had been pathetic in 
 his faithfulness. And the story of her pearls 
 was so well known, that there were those who 
 loved to fancy that, could they have looked upon 
 the face of the kneeling figure, to whom the angel 
 reached down the Bible, they would have seen a 
 face familiar to them all, — " Our Eex." 
 
 Beneath, engraved upon a scroll, in golden 
 
328 Anna May lie, 
 
 letters, was the message, " Go, preach the gospel 
 to every creature." 
 
 Still below was the plain inscription : 
 
 " Placed in the Memorial Church 
 
 BY 
 
 • Mary Gertrude Clemmer, 
 
 In Memory of her sister, 
 Elizabeth Sydney Clemjmee." 
 
 Perfect, indeed, was the simple picture, set 
 within the panes of crimson, and purple, and 
 gold, which encircled it with their flashing halo. 
 
 They turned away, only to study the inscrip- 
 tion upon the base of the pulpit. The desk and 
 platform were cut of some dark gray stone, pol- 
 ished to the beauty of marble, and the front bore 
 these words : 
 
 " This Memorial Church was erected, 1869, 
 By John Clemmer, • 
 In memory of his beloved daughter, 
 Eltzabet Sydney Clem^ier, 
 Who died July 8th, 1862." 
 
In the Memorial Church^ 329 
 
 The story of their church had long been fa- 
 mihar. There was not one present who did not 
 know that only a simple marble tablet marked 
 her resting place in the cemetery, and that her 
 father had consecrated her inheritance to the erec- 
 tion of this fitting monument to her name. And 
 be sure there was not one tearless eye, or one 
 bead which did not bow in genuine emotion, as 
 the gray - haired old banker, leaning heavily 
 upon his staff, entered the church that morning, 
 with his sole remaining daughter. 
 
 The house filled rapidly as the usual hour of 
 service approached. Many of the grand families 
 of Morristown came among them that day ; but 
 it was no new thing to see Judge Mansfield and 
 his daughter in their midst. Many a glance of 
 tender interest was bent upon her to - day, for so 
 many knew that the grave Professor, who had so 
 often accompanied Rex home, and who sat now 
 by her side with his pale forehead and dark 
 dreaming eyes, would this time bear her away to 
 
330 Anna Maylie. 
 
 his home in a distant city, and introduce her to 
 a new and different sphere of life. 
 
 As the first bell ceased ringing, the choir of the 
 Fourth church, Rex's own church, filed in, — a 
 swift, bright procession, — and filled the sing- 
 ers' seats. As Prof. Kinney struck the grand 
 opening chords of the lofty Te Deum Laudamus, 
 they heard, for the first time, their own organ, — 
 Eachel's gift to the church which she, too, had 
 loved so well. 
 
 Then, suddenly, the swift, clear, penetrating 
 utterance of the well - trained sopmno sang 
 through and through the church, and a hundred 
 heads turned toward the singers. 
 
 " We praise Thee, O God ; we acknowledge 
 Thee to be the Lord." 
 
 In grand, swelling chorus, the whole choir made 
 response : 
 
 " All the earth doth worship Thee, the Father 
 Everlasting." 
 
 Again and again, following the chorus, the 
 
In the Memorial Ghurch, 331 
 
 solos, — swift, and trumpet clear, — rang like a 
 piercing voice crying through the heavens ; and 
 " as the voice of a great thunder," the organ and 
 the choir chanted their majestic responses : 
 
 Sol. — " To Thee all angels cry aloud : the 
 heavens, and all the powers therein. 
 
 Cho. — To Thee Cherubim and seraphim con- 
 tinually do cry. 
 
 Sol. — When Thou hadst overcome the sharp- 
 ness of death ; 
 
 Cho. — Thou didst open the kingdom of heav- 
 en to all believers. 
 
 Sol. — Thou sittestonthe right hand of God, 
 in the Glory of the Father ; 
 
 Cho. — We believe that Thou shalt come to be 
 our Judge ; 
 
 Sol. — We therefore pray Thee, help Thy 
 servants whom Thou hast redeemed with Thy 
 precious blood ; 
 
 Cho. — Make them to be numbered with Thy 
 saints in glory everlasting." 
 
332 Anna May He, 
 
 Awed, thrilled and lifted above the vanities of 
 time, as the hearts of the simple congregation 
 were, I doubt not they would have been more 
 deeply touched and stirred with the simple " Hap- 
 py Land" of their first evening Sunday school ; 
 and through it all, I know they missed the voice 
 of their own sweet singer. For Anna had al- 
 ways led their singing ; but this morning, in the 
 pew behind Rachel, she sat by her mother's side, 
 looking like some happy nun in her delicate dress 
 of silk, with the white spray of blossoms in her 
 dainty bonnet resting like a bridal wreath upon 
 her bright, brown braids.- 
 
 There was a slight movement at the door, a 
 slight stir running through the congregation, and 
 then the regular pastor entered, and ascended to 
 the pulpit, followed by the Rev. Rexford Palmer. 
 Silence rested upon the people, and every eye 
 was bent upon him as he ascended the stairs. 
 Every eye was fastened on him still as he rose 
 to read the opening hymn. 
 
In the Memorial Church. 333 
 
 He had not quite fulfilled the promise of his 
 boyhood, for he was slighter than thej could 
 have believed. He stood before them, — slender, 
 tall, and grave, with an eye like a falcon, and a 
 brow, aye and a voice, too, which bespoke the 
 dignity of hia calling. Attitude, gesture and 
 tone betrayed the thorough training of the 
 schools, and long hours of thought had left their 
 stamp upon his features ; but scholarship and 
 culture were not deeper than the heart of the man, 
 for his cheek burned with emotion as he looked 
 down upon that sea of familiar faces, where every 
 eye save hers was lifted to his face, and a moist- 
 ure gathered over his eyes as he remembered his 
 own words, and Anna's prayer, that long -ago 
 Sabbath evening in the old brown house among 
 the maples. 
 
 Vividly,, during the opening services, did the 
 old days pass before him in swift review. The 
 barefooted Eex of the public school rose in sharp 
 contrast with the Rex who to-day was to preach 
 
334 Anna Maylie. 
 
 the dedicatory sermon of a church on Morristown 
 Common ; and the tremulousness had not yet 
 left his voice as he rose and pronounced the words 
 of his text : 
 
 " I will plant in the wilderness the cedar, the 
 ehittah tree, and the myrtle, and the oil tree ; I 
 will set in the desert the fir tree and the pine, and 
 the box tree together : 
 
 " That they may see, and know, and consider, 
 and understand together, that the hand of the 
 Lord hath done this, and the Holy One of Israel 
 hath created it." 
 
 Clear and distinct the opening sentence feii on 
 their ears, — scarcely one tone to remind them of 
 the frank voice of their boy -superintendent. 
 
 " To ^ day before your eyes is this prophecy 
 fulfilled. Turn your gaze upon the serene Sab- 
 bath landscape without, and you have no need of 
 my sermon ; for the eloquence of that literal ful- 
 fillment and illustration of my text far transcends 
 all human expression. 
 
In the Memoiial Church. 335 
 
 "Let me recall to your minds, as they have 
 been recalled to mine, this morning, the words 
 of faith, the prophetic utterances of prayer which 
 NQ heard at our first Sabbath school on Morris- 
 town Common, nine years ago, — that night so 
 memorable to me, when I stood in your midst an 
 humble, ignorant boy, and confessed my Saviour 
 for the first time. Perhaps many of you will 
 remember these words : 
 
 " ' I can look onward through the coming years, 
 and I can see the church rise on the Common, 
 and I can see the families of all these houses 
 thronging through its doors. No, mothers, you 
 will not then be alone with your little children, 
 but fathers and brothers will go with you into the 
 Courts of the Lord.' 
 
 "I wonder not so many heads go down in 
 tearful gratitude that God has honored my faith I 
 My own went down to the dust with prayers of 
 thanksgiving the day I read that there was a 
 church organized on Morristown Common." 
 
336 Anna Maylie. 
 
 His words were as simple as his emotion was 
 deep ; and when he turned to his sermon there 
 was not a tearless eye in his congregation. 
 
 Constantly, through all the eloquence of his 
 ringing words, a sweet and long -hushed voice 
 sounded in Anna's ear. Tenderly it reminded 
 her of that olden lesson of faith which she was so 
 long in learning, and with shadowy finger point- 
 ing her to Eex as its fulfillment ; — 
 
 '* First the blade, then the ear, after that the 
 full corn in the ear." 
 
 Tenderly the shadowy cadences of 'Miss Clem- 
 mer's voice seemed to float along the masterful 
 periods of the sermon. " Being dead, she yet 
 speaketh," Anna murmured to herself, and rev- 
 erently she felt that in all the sermons Rex would 
 preach, and in all the good he would do, she 
 should hear Miss Clemmer's voice and see Miss 
 Clemmer's hand. 
 
 Standing in her memorial church, faithfully 
 did he whom she had educated and left to fill her 
 
Jn the Memorial Church, 337 
 
 empty place in the Master's field enforce the les- 
 son of her life. And as Gertrude listened to 
 his impassioned voice, and as the splendors of 
 noon painted that beloved name in letters of daz- 
 zling light she felt that of all their riches only 
 her sister's portion, and her sister's pearls, had 
 become imperishable ; they would shine forever 
 with the radiance of heaven. 
 
 Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord, 
 For they rest from their lahors, 
 
 A.nd their works do follow them — do follow, do follow, do 
 follow them." 
 
 It was a strange dedicatory anthem, but by 
 one common, irresistible impulse the choir found 
 their book opening to these words. 
 
 The solemn strains floated through the quiet 
 summer spaces of Elizabeth's Memorial Church, 
 and sounded in Gertie's ears as solemnly as on 
 that other day, seven years ago, when she took 
 her last tearful look of that lovely face, so saint- 
 ly, so angelic in its last, coffined repose. 
 Through the years which followed, she had not 
 
338 Anna Maylie* 
 
 been uufaitbful to her promise, but to - day it 
 was as if the inspired hand which unclosed the 
 eyes of Paul had laid its unsealing fingers upon 
 her own vision, and as she had never seen it be- 
 fore, she saw on every side the waiting work. 
 
 As the last strain died away, and the people 
 waited for the benediction, the pastor of the 
 church came down from the pulpit and paused, 
 and the wondering multitude sat down. With 
 the morning's flame of feeling still burning on his 
 cheek, the young minister descended from the 
 pulpit, and walking up the aisle, paused by Mrs. 
 Maylie's pew. With a sweet rose - flush upon 
 her cheek, Anna laid her hand within his offered 
 arm, and he led her forward to the altar, and 
 pausing there, in the presence of those who had 
 loved and honored them so many years, " Our 
 Anna" and " Our Rex" were wedded. 
 
 The organ pealed forth once more its strains 
 of triumphant music as they left the church. 
 But, as their humble, loving people crowded 
 
In the Memorial Church, 339 
 
 around them, Anna turned from her husband's 
 tender eyes and gazed upon them, and she felt 
 again the old heart - breaking pain of that fare- 
 well which in her thoughts she had gone through 
 and through so many times during the last year. 
 She knew there would never any people love her 
 so again, and she felt, with a prophetic throb of 
 loneliness, how often, among the educated people 
 of Rex's church where she should be, — not sim- 
 ple Anna May lie, loved and cherished for the 
 good she had wrought, but a stranger among 
 strangers, she should turn back to Morristown 
 Common with a homesick longing for the old love, 
 and the old faces, and the old work. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 "let her own works praise her." 
 
 FEEL that my storj would be in* 
 complete, did I not give you one more 
 glimpse of my Anna, as Anna May lie 
 Palmer. For I should not like to have 
 you suppose that no glorious flower has blos- 
 somed from so bright and rare a bud ; that her 
 life as a woman is less unwortliy of study and of 
 imitation than her life as a girl. And I trust 
 that I shall round my history of her career of 
 usefulness with this closing chapter, as a perfect 
 
^^ Let her own Works Praise Her,^^ 341 
 
 poem is rounded at the close, with one last, 
 transcendent, golden vertse. Doubtless this com- 
 parison suggests itself because, as it is with a per- 
 fect poem, so it has been with Anna's life. As 
 the one thought which grows with every line of 
 the poem finds its fullest and grandest expression 
 in the closing stanza, so Anna's life is rounded 
 with a complete accomplishment of her old de- 
 sire to be always at work for Jesus, for she has 
 now found a wide and exhaustless field. 
 
 To - night is Saturday night in the minister's 
 home. The study -lamp is lighted at an early 
 hour in the cozy study, for Anna and Rex always 
 work together there on Saturday evenings, and 
 the lamp is lighted early and burns late and 
 long. 
 
 The house, from chamber to cellar, from par- 
 lor to wood-house, is in complete order and readi- 
 ness for the morrow. You may be sure that 
 Anna leaves nothing which shall mar or disturb 
 the peace and holiness of the Sabbath. She is 
 
342 Anna Maylie. 
 
 still a Bible Christian, and you may be sure that, 
 conscientious as she is, she has regulated her 
 household so that the Sabbath is a day of rest and 
 quiet for her house - maid as well as for herself. 
 Simple, Sabbath morning breakfasts, and plain, 
 quiet Sabbath dinners are the rule at the parson- 
 age ; and a serene stillness and peace pervade 
 the entire house from dawn until nightfall. 
 
 In the pleasant sittting-room, near the clear, 
 bright hickory fire, sits Anna's mother, reading 
 by the shaded lamp. All the ease and comfort 
 which Anna used to covet for her mother, she is 
 Qow able to secure to her. "Mother's chair," 
 the most cozy and restful of all the easy chairs 
 shown for Anna's selection, has its place of honor 
 by the pleas antest window of the sitting - room. 
 " Mother's bedroom" opens from that same warm, 
 cheerful apartment. "Mother's books," — a 
 strangely - assorted little pile, — have their own 
 particular corner on the great table under the 
 mirror, where she can reach them without ris- 
 
** Let her own Works Praise Her.^^ 343 
 
 ill g from her chair. Yes, they are aqueerly- 
 selected httle pile, especially for an elderly lady ; 
 for, along with her Bible and hymn book and 
 Pilgrim's Progress, lie so many Sunday - school 
 books, — so many of the little, old-fashioned 
 publications which she delighted in on Morris- 
 town Common, thirteen years ago. In her eyes, 
 none of the new books compare with these ; and 
 Rex has procured editions of her old favorites for 
 her with infinite pains. The Sunday - school 
 children of these days will hardly remember those 
 titles so dear to Mrs. Maylie, and to me also. 
 Here they are: — "A Peep at my Neighbors," 
 " Cousin Clara," and its ever fascinating sequel, 
 " Ellen Carroll," and best of all, "Edward and 
 Miriam," with their strange, weird Icelandic life. 
 And, strangest of all, at the bottom of the pile 
 lies an old, worn tune book. It is the Choral, 
 — Anna's old singing book. It is treasured by 
 them both as a memento of the dead ; for I think 
 their eyes never rest upon it without seeing him 
 
344 Anna Maylie, 
 
 as he stood sino^ino^ that lonoj a 0^0 Sabbath, for 
 once, in the midst of his degradation, clothed 
 with his rightful manhood and the prerogatives of 
 his native intellect. There is one page, yellow 
 with time and handling, blotted and discolored as 
 nothing but tears can discolor. In solemn hours, 
 when she is alone, Mrs. Maylie takes up the old 
 singing book and turns to this one page, — the 
 book opens there now of itself, — and fresh tears 
 fall as she reads again the old Sentence he chant- 
 ed so grandly : 
 
 " The Lord bless thee, and keep thee." 
 Yet now in her daughter's home she is happy, 
 but it is a strange, new existence for one whose 
 whole nature has been so long dwarfed and re- 
 pressed. Anna seems to have brought to life 
 and light a hundred little tastes which before she 
 was never conscious of possessing. She can look 
 back and see how many years she was scarcely a 
 woman, — - only a mere machine, whose almost 
 only human prerpgatives were weariness and sor- 
 
" Let her own Works Praise Her,-* 345 
 
 row. She sometimes wonders at the vivid inter- 
 est she takes in everything around her. She 
 finds herself able to understand and sympathize 
 with all the wide and noble work of Rex and 
 Anna, and she knows and loves many of their 
 people. She feels an interest, strong as any she 
 ever knew in her own youth, in hearing her boy, 
 her bright, gentle, student James, talk of his 
 studies and his ambitions. 
 
 Anna scarcely ever enters the room without a 
 little involuntary pause to regard her mother. 
 How sweet and peaceful she looks in her cap of 
 soft, white lisse, her thin, silken hair of dark 
 brown showing scarcely a thread of silver, and 
 her worn face, always mild and tender, even 
 though sometimes it may be sad. No ; Anna is 
 never weary of regarding her mother, and real- 
 izing that no mother in all the land can be more 
 carefully shielded and beloved. Eex has learned 
 to understand that gentle, happy expression upon 
 his wife's face which he sees so often as she comes 
 
346 Anna Maylie, 
 
 in and sits down in her chair at his study table, 
 and he smiles tenderly upon her. He thinks her 
 love for her mother one of the most beautiful 
 traits in her character, and for this, and for her 
 hours of homesick longing for the old love and 
 the old work of Morristown Common, he has al- 
 ways a tender smile. 
 
 To - night, with pen and pencil lying idle, and 
 the morrow's sermon before him, he has been 
 listening half an hour for the opening of the 
 sitting-room door, and for her step in the hall. 
 He has listened patiently, however, for he knows 
 that she must first be sure that Mary has every- 
 thing in perfect order for the Sabbath. He 
 knows that she must even see with her own eyes 
 that the " little chamber in the wall," the " Proph- 
 et's chamber," is in readiness for any brother 
 minister, or chance Society agent, who may come, 
 hoping to find a home with them over the Sab- 
 bath. But he knows also that, when she does 
 come, the cares of the week are laid aside, and 
 
*' Let her own Works Praise Her,^^ 347 
 
 heart and brain and hand will be alike co - labor- 
 ers with him in his work. 
 
 Both faces light up as she enters at last, and 
 sits down in her chair. Then he reads to her his 
 sermon for to - morrow. He never fails to do 
 this. Carefully she listens, with a sharp ear and 
 a keen, attentive eye. There are beautiful pas- 
 sages over which she smiles so proudly, close, 
 pathetic appeals which bring the tears, yet ear 
 and eye remain keen for the next passage, and 
 the next. And finally, as some ponderous sen- 
 tence rolls forth, she speaks, " There, Rex ! " 
 
 He knows what she means, and he reads that 
 sentence again. 
 
 " That baffles me," she says. " It is not suffi- 
 ciently direct. It is not sufficiently simple. 
 You ought to re - write that. You must not go 
 into the pulpit with a sentence that I can not un- 
 derstand." 
 
 He does not answer, but reads it over, gravely. 
 She smiles, as she studies his face. If he pon- 
 
348 Anna May lie, 
 
 ders too long, she says, quietly, " What was the 
 idea you had in your mind, Rex? If you will 
 explain it to me, perhaps I can assist you." 
 
 He is usually able to explain his meaning to 
 her, fully and clearly. 
 
 Then she says, "That is it. I understand 
 that perfectly ; tell your people as simply as you 
 have told me, and they will understand, like- 
 wise." 
 
 After that, he can usually write his thought 
 easily. She is always thus busy with her clear, 
 simple, forceful brain, divesting his sermons of 
 their grand profundity of scholarly logic, and ton- 
 ing his long, rhythmic, carefully - constructed sen- 
 tences down into appeals, and sharp, simple rea- 
 sonings that go straight to the heart and under- 
 standing of the church. 
 
 Bex has no pride in this matter. He humbly 
 subjects all the pride and all the trained power of 
 his intellect to the one great end of his service, — 
 winning souls to Christ ; and Anna loves hei 
 
" Let her' own Works Praise HerJ'^ 349 
 
 Master so that she knows at once when a sentence 
 of her husband's sermon wanders from that 
 work. 
 
 This is one part of their Saturday night's work. 
 Then, as he draws her chair nearer, she supple- 
 ments his week - day work among his congrega- 
 tion, with accounts of her own visits. "I have 
 been poor, and I have seen so much of the vari- 
 ous troubles of poverty," she says, " that I can 
 get nearer than you can, perhaps, to your poor 
 and troubled ones. I have been talking with 
 your Sabbath- school teachers. Rex, and I found 
 Miss Emma Hart so discouraged because she has 
 done her class no good, that she can see. And, 
 Rex, it took me back to the old days at once, 
 and I thought of her — thought of Miss Clemmer 
 and her class. Rex, I want you to preach a 
 sermon on Especial Work. I want you to go 
 among the teachers and appoint especial work. 
 And then, perhaps, we shall find that we have 
 Miss Clemraers in our own church." 
 
350 Anna Maylie, 
 
 " Have you made out your list of the desti- 
 tute?" 
 
 " Yes ; here it is. Old Mrs. Bojnton, that 
 poor old lady who comes to church so regularly 
 every Sabbath, and does me so much good with 
 that saintly look of hers, — she, Eex, has had 
 neither sugar nor tea in her house for two months. 
 — that old, old lady ! I felt so grieved as she 
 told me, with such a pained blush, and such a 
 tremble in her voice, when I sat down to take 
 supper with her, why she couldn't offer me a 
 cup of tea. Please mention this to Brother 
 Maitland. 
 
 " Then there is Sister Carr's family. I think 
 they have not sufficient bedding to render them 
 comfortable through the winter. I could see 
 that there was only one thin comfortable on their 
 bed, and I believe the children's are as scantily 
 supplied. But I will see the ladies of the Aid 
 Society myself in relation to this. And here, 
 Bex, is my completed list of families for the 
 
** Let her own Worlcs Praise Her*'* 351 
 
 Christmas barrel of flour. There are fourteen 
 families in our church who will probably have a 
 hard time to get through the winter ; and if they 
 can have just this little help, it will tide them 
 over until spring comes with better times." 
 
 Eex took the list and read it. " Here is Broth- 
 er Scott's name, I see. I have suspected as 
 much ; but I could n't wring it from him, that he 
 was in any way troubled or embarrassed ; but 
 you, dear, you found it out, didn't you?" And 
 he kissed her wdth as much of admiration as 
 fondness. 
 
 He carefully laid aside the list. " God bless the 
 men who hold up my hands ! " he exclaimed, the 
 old, frank, earnest look of his boyhood shining 
 on his face. "Brother Kempt, and Brother 
 Maitland, and Brother Kingsbury wouldn't 
 shrink, or murmur, if it were forty barrels of 
 flour instead of fourteen, — God bless these 
 great. Western hearts ! " 
 
 Anna smiled at her husband's fervor. " It is 
 
352 Anna Maylie, 
 
 not because they are "Western men, my foolish 
 Eex ! " she said, " but it is because their souls are 
 full of the love of God. God keep our church so 
 tender-hearted, I pray! Hark! did not that 
 sound like the hack stopping here ? " 
 
 They had both caught the sound of bells and 
 the sharp tramp of horses up the hard, trodden 
 street. A moment, — and they heard the gate, 
 the sound of trunks going down on the sidewalk, 
 quick footsteps, and then a sharp ring at the 
 door -bell. 
 
 "Sit still, Anna, I will go. I think it is 
 Brother Halstead from the Falls, and perhaps his 
 wife ; he thought they might visit us this week or 
 next, but I had quite forgotten to' speak of it." 
 
 Anna sat idly listening. She heard the door 
 open, — heard an unusually hearty greeting from 
 Rex, — two or three voices mingling, — and 
 surely that was a lady's voice, — ; a lady's voice 
 that was strangely familiar, and Anna sprang to 
 her feet, just as Rex called, " Here, little home- 
 
" Let her own Works Praise Her.^^ 353 
 
 sick ! Come out ! here's something for you ! " 
 It flashed over her who had come, and she 
 
 rushed into the hall, and, yes, — it was — it was 
 
 Kachel, and she was clasped in her arms. 
 
 " Anna May lie ! Anna May lie ! How glad 
 
 and thankful I am to look upon your face once 
 
 more ! " 
 
 Rachel turned often at the tea - table to look at 
 Anna, who was regarding her with something of 
 the old bewilderment. Her eyes filled more than 
 once, and she said, with a little laugh which 
 was more like a sob than a laugh, however, — 
 ** I have no fancy for remembering to - night what 
 dignified stations in life we occupy, Anna, nor 
 that a grave minister and a grave professor sit 
 opposite. We will have our talk of the old 
 times just the same, for I go over the old cam 
 paign again, the moment I see you, Anna. Oh, 
 it was such brave work ! such thorough work ! 
 and I like to live it over again, — those old days 
 
354 Anna Maylie, 
 
 in the strawberry grounds, and tlie Sabbath - 
 school of Morristown Common." 
 
 " I expected those old Common days to come 
 up presently," her husband said with a smile. 
 " Eachel tries to regulate her life according to 
 the old employments still, and she must needs 
 establish a school in memory of the old one. 
 She has a flourishing Ragged School, I assure 
 you ; and, besides, I am obliged to go with her a 
 mile regularly every Sabbath evening to her Five 
 Points Bible class." 
 
 "We both married missionary girls," said the 
 minister in reply. "To-morrow night I must 
 take you over into Anna's parish." 
 
 " Yes, Rex," cried Anna with a beaming look. 
 " We will take them over into Dallas. Rachel, 
 I want you to see my people there, — my west- 
 ern people, in one of these new settlements. 
 Morristown Common in its primitive state will 
 seem to you one of the centers of civilization in 
 comparison. But, Rex, we forget ; she may not 
 
*^Let her own Works Praise Her^ 355 
 
 be able to stand the ride ; do you think you 
 could, Rachel? Eight miles in an open cutter 
 in this keen air? eight miles there, and then 
 eight miles back home again ? " 
 
 Prof. Auber regarded his wife with grave 
 solicitude, and slowly shook his head. But 
 Eachel's black eyes kindled and glowed. " In- 
 deed I can. I am going, Carl ; only, I do not 
 quite understand yon, Anna. 1 do not quite 
 understand where it is we are going. I supposed 
 that your husband's church was a city church." 
 
 "So his church is. It is mine we are speaking 
 of. It is mine, — it is I whom those people 
 especially love. Eex goes principally to preach 
 the sermons, but in all things he allows me my 
 own way over there." 
 
 "And here, also, as you will see," interpolated 
 Rex. 
 
 "But, I do not fully understand yet," per- 
 sisted Rachel. "Have you really a separate 
 work from your church here in the city ? " 
 
356 Anna Maylie, 
 
 " Yes," said Rex, " we have a mission work of 
 our own, — a little unsalaried mission which par- 
 ticularly delights Anna. I would not tell her 
 many particulars in relation to it, if I were you," 
 lie added, turning to Anna, "for it is the only 
 thing we have in store which will be at all a sur- 
 prise. 
 
 After tea, the gentlemen went down town for 
 the evening mail, and Anna and Rachel drew 
 their easy chairs into Mrs. May lie's cozy corner 
 for a chat over the days and the people of Lang 
 Syne ; for, during the previous summer, Eachel 
 had visited home. 
 
 " I sat once more in her church," she said in a 
 tender voice, " and that Sabbath, Anna, I saw 
 Agnes Green, and pretty, lisping Ginnie Peters- 
 ham baptized. And I remembered then, that 
 they were your first scholars." 
 
 "Yes, bashful, little Ginnie. How strange it 
 seems that she is now sixteen ! I remember — 
 don't you, Mother? all that first evening, in- 
 
" Let her own Works Praise Her.^^ 357 
 
 stead of ^ Suffer little children to come unto me ! 
 she would persist in saying, ' Suffering little 
 children I come unto me ! ' and I remember that I 
 thought her little mistake a very sweet one. 
 Lute writes to us that Mary plays your organ, 
 Eachel." 
 
 "Yes, and she plays it well. I like to look at 
 Mary's grave, noble face. I never before saw so 
 young a girl so serious and dignified. Her faint, 
 slow smile is like the light when the sun breaks 
 through the clouds upon a still, grey day. I am 
 glad Lute has decided to send her to Mt. Hol- 
 yoke. You know, do you not, dear Anna, who 
 stands in your old place as teacher of the Wom- 
 en's Bible Class ? " 
 
 "Yes, Lute has written us. I hardly ex- 
 pected anything like that of Fanny." 
 
 "^ Fanny Ho wland is utterly changed, Anna 
 I did not expect to see any such radical change. 
 I believe she was away at school several years, 
 and only returned the summer we bade good - bye 
 
358 Anna Maylie, 
 
 to Morristown. But you can recollect, can you 
 not, how gaily she used to dress ? I do, at least ; 
 for I know I used to think her vain and frivolous, 
 and that she possessed little depth of character ; 
 but I was quite mistaken. Fanny now dresses 
 much more plainly than you do, Anna ; she is 
 almost severe in matters of dress. Indeed her 
 sister, — you remember Mrs. Fred Graham of 
 course, — is quite out of patience with Fanny's 
 kind of religion. She is indeed very strict, and, 
 so far as society is concerned, almost a recluse. 
 But she visits the poor. I really believe there is 
 not an attic or a tenement house in Morristown 
 that has not been visited by Fanny Howland and 
 her inexhaustible basket. I saw her twice dur- 
 ing my stay, going down to your school Sabbath 
 noon. She is a member of Dr. Mason's church, 
 and attends service there ; but at noon she regu- 
 larly walks the mile and a half to reach your 
 Bible class, — her Bible class now. Does it not 
 seem strange to you? Remembering how she 
 
^^ Let her own Works Praise HerJ*^ 359 
 
 used to delight in ribbons, and flowers, and 
 plumes, and all the latest fashions, especially if 
 they were somewhat remarkable, I could not re- 
 frain from looking long at her, dressed so plainly. 
 She wore a lusterless black silk without a ruffle 
 or a fold, a closely buttoned basquine to match, 
 and a white chip hat with merely a white lily and 
 its leaves in front, and her face was calm and 
 serious, as if she were reflecting deeply upon her 
 mission. She seemed utterly unlike the Fanny 
 Ilowland I had known. She is never present at 
 any of Mrs. Graham's re -unions, Gertie told 
 me." 
 
 "Dear Gertie, what of her? " 
 
 " She is at home ; her health is very delicate ; 
 I saw her several times ; she is growing to look 
 more and more like her, Anna." 
 
 There was a long pause for Anna. Mrs. 
 May lie spoke of this one, and that one, and then 
 Anna asked, — "My people on the Common? 
 I tliink of them nearly every day, and with great 
 
360 Anna Maylie, 
 
 interest. There is a steady improvement among 
 them, is there not? " 
 
 " Yes, Anna, I think there is. They are 
 really prosperous. I walked over there one af- 
 ternoon, and called on eight or ten different fami- 
 lies, — families where 1 had been with you in the 
 beginning of the change ; and I am sure they are 
 really prosperous. Most of them are giving 
 their children a good education. Agnes and 
 Ginnie are in the advanced classes, Prof. Kinney 
 told me. And, do you know, two - thirds of your 
 girls have their regular music teacher ? and I can 
 not tell you how many melodeons and cabinet 
 organs there are on the Common." 
 
 Anna smiled musingly and lovingly over the 
 thought of her girls, — her little brown - faced, 
 bare - legged girls, who spent their days like 
 gipsies, skipping over the green, at the time 
 wlien she first gathered them into her school. 
 She tried to fancy them now, demurely listening 
 to the instructions of their teachers in music and 
 
" Let her own Works Praise Her.^^ 363 
 
 the languages, and kindling in face and spirit aa 
 new truths broke upon them. 
 
 " They like the minister they have ? " she in- 
 quired. 
 
 "Yes, they like him cordially; of course not 
 quite as they like your husband. The best and 
 ablest men and women in all the Morristown 
 churches could never do for them v^hat Rex and 
 Anna have done ; but they like their pastor, and 
 they pay his salary themselves, with no aid what- 
 ever from father or Mr. Clemmer, — They are 
 coming, are they not? How cold it must be 
 when every step gives forth that sharp, crunch- 
 ing sound ! " 
 
 The gentlemen entered, and Kex handed Anna 
 a letter. "From Morristown, as usual; but this 
 time I do not recognize the hand." 
 
 " Neither do I," said Anna, looking at the 
 heavy letter. Rachel's eye caught the mono- 
 gram. " F. L. H. ? " she repeated, " F. L. H. ? 
 Why, those are Fanny's initials, Anna." 
 
362 Anna Maylie. 
 
 Anna shook her head as she opened the 
 letter. " No, that can not be, for we are scarcely 
 acquainted. — Why — it is, Rachel ! What can she 
 have written to me about ? for this is a very long 
 letter. Excuse me, if I read it." 
 
 She read a few lines, and then paused with a 
 sudden exclamation. " Mother, Squire Howland 
 is dead ! And he died bankrupt ! Is it not 
 strange ? Poor Fanny ! Shall I not read this 
 aloud? It will be of interest to us all." 
 
 " MORRISTOWN, N. Y., Dec. 20, 1871. 
 
 " My Dear Anna : — 
 
 " I certainly have not the presump- 
 tion to write to you, claiming the consideration due to an old 
 friendship ; yet it is because I knew you so well in those days 
 when I might have had your friendship, that I am writing to 
 you now. For I am in trouble where I sorely need the sym- 
 pathy of a large heart and the counsel of a clear brain. Allow 
 me to tell you how I am situated, in as few words as possi- 
 ble. My father is dead;— I think it will give you a shock 
 Anna, for you and your mother always liked father, I remem- 
 ber, — poor father I Every one liked him; he was only too 
 faithful a friend. If he had laid Solomon's crafty precept to 
 heart, — 
 
 * *' My son, if thou be surety for thy friend, if thou hast 
 stricken thy hand with a stranger, 
 
*^ Let her own Works Praise Her, ^^ 363 
 
 " * Thou art snared with the words of thy mouth, thou art 
 taken with the words of thy mouth,'— 
 
 how different it would have been for his family to-day ; for we 
 are literally penniless, Anna. There are many,— and my sis- 
 ter, Mrs. Graham, among the number,— who say that we arc 
 penniless only because we choose to be. Yet neither mother 
 nor myself felt that we could do less than give up the house 
 and the furniture to pay father's indebtedness. I trust you 
 will not think of me longer as the vain, heartless, selfish 
 Fanny Howland whom you used to know in the old days of 
 our Sabbath-school class, when I assure you that I have 
 placed all my personal possessions of any value, together with 
 my piano and library, in the hands of those who are settling 
 father's estate. Mother has given up literally everything, 
 even to father's watch,— poor mother! that cost her a sore 
 heart - ache ! I would have paid its value, and retained it for 
 her, had it been possible for me, by any sacrifice, to raise a 
 sufficient sum. Yet as it is, we have not sufficient to meet the 
 demands. Father's store and entire stock of goods are in the 
 possession of the New York creditors; the horses and carriage 
 are sold; we have saved no souvenirs of the old life. I tell 
 you all this. Anna, because I remember you as being so en- 
 tirely conscientious and scrupulous. I wish you might believe 
 me, that I have found myself asking so many times, ' Would 
 Anna May lie have done thus? ' instead of ' Is it right?' " 
 
 As Anna read these words, a hot blush suffused 
 
 her face, and she stopped short. " I had not 
 
 looked over the letter, you know," she said, dep- 
 
 recatingly. Kachel laughed, a tender little 
 
364 Anna Maylie. 
 
 laugh, and looked around at Rex, but he seemed 
 absorbed with his own thoughts. 
 
 Anna refused to go on with the letter. " Poor 
 Fanny has a very exaggerated opinion of me." 
 
 " I shall presume to finish it then," said Kachel, 
 reaching for the letter, — " if 1 may ? I can pe- 
 ruse it without the slightest embarrassment." 
 
 Anna offered no resistance, and Eachel pro- 
 ceeded : 
 
 " I only tell you this, as a matter of justice to myself, be- 
 cause I have yet to ask a great favor of you, and I know you 
 might well hesitate to receive the Fanny Howland you once 
 knew, into your household. We are all penniless, Anna, and 
 as I am the only one who can earn a living, I must make 
 haste to do it. Yes, Anna, the rest of my life I must ' work 
 for a living;' but, believe me, I do not shrink." 
 
 Rachel's eyes flashed triumphantly as she read 
 that. "And I used to think Fanny shallow!" 
 she said, " but how bravely she lifts her bur- 
 den." 
 
 She went on with the letter : 
 
 " Mother will go to Mrs. Graham's. I have not objected, 
 for sister Julia is really a good daughter. She loves mother aa 
 tenderly as I do. I shall have no cause for anxiety concern- 
 
^^ Let her own Works Praise Her,^^ 365 
 
 ing her comfort when I am away. Sister and her husband 
 make me welcome there also, but I feel that they both censure 
 me because everything has been given up to the creditors, and 
 I think I might often find it unpleasant, even if I were willing 
 to be dependent upon sister's bounty. ilSTeither am I willing 
 that little Lilian should go there,— you may not remember 
 little sister; she is a girl of twelve years, and attached to me, 
 and I would prefer to keep her under my own influence. I 
 can not bring myself to give her up to sister Julia, and see her 
 grow up a gay butterfly,— a copy of my own Mvolous 
 youth. 
 
 " I have taken counsel of no one. But I have been led by 
 an impulse which I can not resist, to write to you, and ask you 
 and your husband to befriend me if you can, and, in any 
 event, to give me your advice. 
 
 "Father gave me the opportunity of gaining a fine educa- 
 tion. My teachers were thorough, and wakened both my 
 brain and my ambition, and providentially I find myself pre- 
 pared to teach every branch of study which is pursued in a 
 regular course, and I am conscious of possessing a trained 
 and disciplined mind. I say this, to explain my confidence 
 in my ability to support myself and little Lilian. 
 
 " I would like a position as teacher somewhere in the "West, 
 and I wish to take Lilian with me. Above all, Anna, I would 
 like to come into your own househould for a few years. You 
 see I have my dream,— my plan. Perhaps Mr. Palmer would 
 ascertain the possibilities of procuring a situation for me in 
 the schools of your city. I am competent to teach in any de- 
 partment, and I do not know that I have any choice. If his 
 search should prove successful, would you consent to take 
 Lilian and myself into your family as boarders ? Think of us 
 before you refuse. 
 
366 Anna Maylie, 
 
 " Rachel has told me what your influence in your daily life 
 has done for her ; and I need your training, Anna; I need 
 your example. I want to work for Jesus as you have worked. 
 I want Lilian to grow up in a family like yours. Dear Anna 
 I want you to take us both and educate us for a grand and no- 
 ble womanhood, as Christian women. 
 
 " Your husband is a stranger to me personally, but there is 
 no household in the world where I turn with such confidence 
 as I turn to yours, with these requests. The ' Anna,' and the 
 * Rex' of the Common, where I too have labored so long, are 
 a hope and an inspu'ation to me also. 
 
 '« I shall be in readiness to come, ifl am summoned, even 
 for the new term after the holidays. 
 
 " Trusting that henceforward you will remember me only 
 for what I hope to become, I am, 
 
 " Yours Sincerely, 
 ** Fannt Lorraine HowiiAND." 
 
 Rachel laid down the letter, and the circle sat 
 around the fire in thoughtful silence. Finally 
 Kex said, — " Miss Molyneux, the French teacher 
 at the Seminary, wishes to go to Milwaukee. I 
 heard Professor Hitchcock speaking of it yester- 
 day. If Miss Rowland is really competent, I 
 am confident that I can secure the situation ; but 
 Anna, how could you take them ? " 
 
 Anna looked up with bright, tearful eyes. " I 
 
" Let her own Works Praise HerJ*^ 367 
 
 could. Rex, if it is my duty. I never, never 
 could turn away one of her girls." 
 
 For, as she sat there, her heart had warmed 
 strangely toward the supplicating Fanny, and, 
 truly, there had been treasured up in her heart 
 no pique to stifle, no grudge to cast out, no re- 
 membered slights to forgive. She thought of her 
 only as the Fanny whom Miss Clemmer had 
 loved and prayed for, with so many tears ; she 
 saw her only as standing alone, and stretching 
 out her hands to her. How strange that it should 
 be — to her ! 
 
 " Carl could easily procure a situation for 
 Fanny. I know she is thoroughly competent," 
 said Eachel. " I would not hesitate for a mo- 
 ment to receive them into our own family ; but, 
 indeed, Anna, I honor Fanny's judgment ; this is 
 truly the place for her and for Lilian." 
 
 When Anna and her husband were alone that 
 night, Anna said, " We must let them come, 
 Rex. We ought not to hesitate for a moment. 
 
368 Anna Maylie, 
 
 If Mary and I find the additional labor too much, 
 as we doubtless shall, why, we are able, are we 
 not, to employ additional help? I should really 
 like to take Janie Comstock, Mary's sister, you 
 know, into our own family. She is living at Mr. 
 McMillan's, and she is deprived of all privileges. 
 She can scarcely attend church at all, even on 
 Sabbath evening, on account of the Sunday com- 
 pany and extra work. Mary has often expressed 
 a wish that she mioht have a Christian home." 
 
 " And you, little woman, would be very glad, 
 I see, to have a reasonable excuse for taking her? 
 Well, Fanny, and Lilian, and Janie, shall all 
 come ! " 
 
 At an early hour Rachel and Anna seated 
 themselves in the minister's pew ; for Anna had 
 said, — " I would like you to see our people as 
 they come in." She had not sat there long, look- 
 ing about her as strangers will, before she felt 
 that she was breathing an entirely new atmos- 
 
^^ Let her own Works Praise Her" 369 
 
 phere. At the first moment of entering, the 
 building had struck her as being singularly new 
 and bright, and she became aware now, for the 
 first time, as she attempted to define the differ- 
 ence, that the church in which they worshiped 
 when at home was carefully toned down to a 
 "dim, religious light." As the house began to 
 fill, she soon perceived another and a greater 
 difference , and it was not like Rachel to allow 
 this consciousness to fade until she had determined 
 its cause. She soon saw that this difference was 
 to be found in the manner in which the cons^resfa- 
 tion entered the church. The Eastern congrega- 
 tion approached the Sanctuary with a look en- 
 tirely distinct from the work - day expression rest- 
 ing upon their faces, and with an inherited con- 
 sciousness of the solemnity of Sabbath services, 
 constraining them to a slower step and to a more 
 di2:nified bearino'. Here, these business men 
 came in like business men. That they were aa 
 thorough in their religion as in their business, 
 
370 ' Anna May lie. 
 
 Eachel did not doubt ; but how brisk the air, how 
 springing the step, how alert and restless the 
 glance of the eye ! And ladies and children en- 
 tered in the same brisk manner. She missed the 
 Eastern air of repose and gravity on every side, 
 —even in their pastor's step when at last he en- 
 tered and ascended the pulpit stairs. He, too, 
 had caught the spirit of the great West, and it 
 was almost a relief when he rose to read the les- 
 son for the day, to recognize again, in his voice 
 and bearing, the culture and the training of the 
 schools. 
 
 She had retained a vivid remembrance of his 
 dedicatory sermon in the Memorial church, and 
 she was now surprised to see the change, — 
 how startlingly direct his sermon was, how forci- 
 ble, — so little of speculation, — -so little of the 
 pure, abstract thought in which her German hus- 
 band loved to indulge, but how closely adapted 
 to the wants of his consTreojation, she could not 
 help admitting. He was evidently preaching a 
 
^^ Let her own Works Praise Her J^ 371 
 
 practical religion to a practical church. But it 
 was not in any sense the scholarly sermon of the 
 East; and, at first, Rachel was tempted to feel 
 disappointed, practical Christian though she was. 
 For she had her cherished ideal of a minister and 
 his sermon, and she had looked for Rexford 
 Palmer to approach this ideal. Yet as his eye 
 burned and his dark cheek flushed with his earn- 
 estness, and she saw the restlessness all gone 
 from the congregation, and the absorbing interest 
 apparent upon those keen business fices, she was 
 forced to acknowledge that this was the right 
 sermon for this Western pulpit ; and her critical 
 spirit took its final departure at the close, when 
 she listened to his straightforward appeal for Mis- 
 sionary funds, and witnessed the prompt liberal- 
 ity of his people. Giving money at the East was 
 a more deliberate and stately affair ; these West- 
 ern men gave their ten, twenty, and fifty dollars, 
 in the same prompt, off-hand manner in which 
 they discharged their week-day obligations, and 
 
372 Anna Maylie. 
 
 then turned away, unconscious that it was an 
 action of particular merit. 
 
 After service, she stood aside in the vestibule, 
 and observed the brief and hearty greeting of 
 minister and members, and the crowd of young 
 and old, rich and poor, which gathered around 
 the minister's wife. She saw more than one 
 trembling old woman press near to grasp the ex- 
 tended hand and catch the sympathetic smile, 
 until she could not help confessing that Anna's 
 was a worthy and an enviable life ; and when 
 Eex joined them with his brisk step, she smiled 
 at her own impressibility as she realized that she, 
 too, had been braced by the breath of this keen, 
 Western atmosphere. 
 
 Rex caught a glimpse of her impressions as he 
 walked home by her side, and he understood the 
 whole at once. "Yes, I know," he said. "I 
 am myself conscious of having changed. But I 
 prayed for the change, Mrs. Auber ! T thank 
 God daily that my church is a working church, 
 
" Let her own Works Praise Her."*^ 373 
 
 and may He keep me worthy to stand as a Leader 
 in their midst." 
 
 Sunday afternoon was intensely cold. The 
 sun shone brightly, it is true, but Rex noticed the 
 few sharply - defined clouds lying back on the 
 western edge of the sky, which he knew beto- 
 kened wind and still fiercer cold. But the hours 
 went by pleasantly in the cozy parlor at the par- 
 sonage, — Rachel listening unweariedly to the ac- 
 counts given by her host and hostess of their 
 church,— accounts so glowing that the member- 
 ship seemed to her to be composed entirely of 
 great-hearted men and women. It was a long 
 history of warm, full hands held out on every 
 side lo the poor and the unfortunate ; of great 
 projects for extending the influence, the labor, 
 and the charity of the church ; of constant con- 
 versions, and of the revival spirit which seemed 
 the vital spark kindling the whole, until, for one 
 brief, enthusiastic moment, Rachel found herself 
 
374 Anna Maylie, 
 
 wishing that her lot had been cast with this West- 
 ern church, and she at work once more with 
 Anna Maylie ; and in this mood she looked for- 
 ward to the evening, and to yet another phase of 
 their Western life and their Western work. 
 
 Kealizing with what interest Bachel was look- 
 ing forward to the evening in their little church 
 at Dallas, E-ex and Anna both grew anxious as 
 the time approached, and it was with evident re- 
 gret that he finally said, — " I really think we 
 ought not to venture, Anna ; for it is by far the 
 coldest night of the season. I am obliged to go 
 of course, and if the Professor chooses, he can 
 accompany me ; but you and Eachel would bet- 
 ter remain at home." 
 
 And Anna said, — " I am sorry to say that I 
 think Eex is right, Eachel." 
 
 " Should you remain at home were I not here ?" 
 Eachel questioned. 
 
 " Probably not. But then I am accustomed 
 to these long, country rides. I am certain, 
 
^^ Let her own Works Praise Her,^' 375 
 
 Eachel, that you have no idea what the weather 
 really is. And, once out in the actual country, 
 the cold is ♦far more intense than in town. You 
 look out of the windows here, and see people con- 
 stantly passing and repassing, a pleasant stir 
 about the houses across the way, children tripping 
 about, and cutters flashing by, and you utterly 
 fail to realize the amount of endurance necessary 
 for an eight miles' ride." 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but since the solicitude appears 
 to be principally for me, I will take the responsi- 
 bility of saying that you and I, Anna, will ac- 
 company the gentlemen ;" and she glanced up 
 with a willful smile at her husband. 
 
 He inquired how long they would be on the 
 road. "Perhaps an hour," Kex answered. "I 
 drive Brother Kingsbury's horses ; they are a 
 splendid pair of trotters, and well trained ; and 
 to -night, in this keen air, they will travel at a 
 swinging pace." 
 
 " Well," said the Professor, after a moment, 
 
376 Anna May lie. 
 
 "if we were to romain over another of your ap- 
 pointments, I should certainly refuse to allow 
 Eachel to go out to - night ; yet, if it is possible 
 to make the ladies at all comfortable during the 
 ride, I do n't know but we might venture, since it 
 seems to be so much to Mrs. Auber." 
 
 " Yet, Rachel, I am afraid to have you go," 
 said Anna, when the first sharp breath struck her 
 face, almost blistering it, as they went out to the 
 cutter. 
 
 "Why, Anna, I never supposed myself such a 
 roseleaf as you, and your husband, and Carl, 
 conspu'e to represent me. Just look at my 
 wraps ! I believe each of you have brought a sep- 
 arate shawl and put it around . me, since I con- 
 sidered myself dressed for the ride ! How I am 
 to move at all, so muffled and wrapped, is a 
 problem ! " 
 
 It was with difficulty that Rex could restrain 
 the fiery, high - stepping horses until the ladies 
 gained their seats and the robes were tucked in, 
 
*^ Let her own Works Praise Her y ^11 
 
 and then, with a toss, and a bound, and a clash 
 of the bells, they were off. Securely wrapped 
 as Mrs. Palmer was, she was forced to bury her 
 face in her muff, so keen was the air ; but Kachel 
 impatiently drew her own wrappings aside. As 
 they flashed by corner after corner, she could see 
 down long streets of new houses surrounded by 
 young trees and neatly laid - out grounds ; the 
 houses struck her as being painfully modern, 
 built in every known style of architecture, and re- 
 joicing in every shade and combination of cottage 
 paints, and each ornamented with its own device 
 of cornice and bracket. From the next moment's 
 point of view, Main Street came plainly into sight, 
 with its rows of brick blocks, and its handsome 
 new City Hall. As they turned, the spires of 
 seven or eight churches were visible, mingling 
 with the towering chimneys of immense factories ; 
 and she could readily distinguish, here and there, 
 the noble buildings of the Union schools. The 
 next instant, the view was shut out, for they had 
 
378 Anna May lie. 
 
 plunged into the heart of a forest, silent and pri- 
 meval. "A forest?" she exclaimed. "Why, 
 we are still within the city limits, Mr. Palmer ! " 
 
 Rex turned with a smile. " I expected you to 
 be astonished, Mrs. Auber. Yes, I believe this 
 land is measured off into city lots and numbered. 
 The country in this direction has but lately been 
 settled ; on the other sides of the town there are 
 handsome farms and farm-houses for miles. We 
 shall soon be out of this, however, for, half a 
 mile on, there are several clearings." 
 
 As they skimmed along, Rachel noticed that 
 this stretch of woodland wore a smoky, autumn 
 look, wholly unlike the stern, mid -winter aspect 
 of the beech and birch and maple of her native 
 state. "We are in the land of oaks, Rachel; 
 do you notice ? " her husband observed. 
 
 " The leaves remain on the entire winter," 
 said Rex ; " and it beguiles one pleasantly along 
 half way through the winter with the feeling that, 
 as yet, it is only autumn, and that, any morning, 
 
" Let her own Works Praise HerJ'^ 379 
 
 we may wake to find the snow melted off, and a 
 haze in the air, and that one of Byrant's days has 
 come, 
 
 * a long mild day, 
 
 To call the squirrel and the bee 
 From out their winter home.' " 
 
 As she was yet noticing the light yellow - 
 brown leaves which clung thickly to the trees, 
 and lent a warm, sheltered look to all the land- 
 scape, they dashed out into what Rex had spoken 
 of as a " clearing." From a few acres on either 
 side of the road the woods were cat back, and 
 there, among the blackened stumps, two log 
 houses had been built ; one of them was yet sur- 
 rounded by huge heaps of brush and logs piled 
 in readiness for the next season's " burning - off." 
 As she gazed around, she realized vividly that 
 she was now in the "Western wilds" of the books 
 and newspapers; and with the true tourist's eye, 
 she noted all the rude economies of these simple 
 habitations, — the small windows roughly set 
 
380 Anna 3Iaylie, 
 
 within the unhewn logs, the wooden latches of 
 the doors, and the utter absence of chimneys, — 
 the stove pipes themselves ran up through the 
 roofs, slender, black and tall ; and she could even 
 see the mud which was plastered heavily between 
 all the logs. 
 
 On and on the road swept, up long rises of 
 ground, through pieces of woodland, down steep 
 hills, through sheltered ravines, over log- ways, 
 and ever and anon by wild spaces where great 
 trees lay felled in inextricable confusion, — spots 
 which Anna spoke of as " slashings." 
 
 " How do they exist ? What can these pool 
 people raise ? " she involuntarily cried, as they 
 passed field after field dotted thickly with half- 
 burned stumps. 
 
 " Wheat, my dear JMrs. Auber," Rex answered. 
 " Some of the finest white wheat in market is 
 raised among these stumps. There is no better 
 land in the State, and some day, the hard - work- 
 ing, self-denying farmers who own these un- 
 
^^ Let her own Works Praise Her, ^^ 381 
 
 promising * forties' and ^ eighties' will be * fore- 
 handed' men, as we Westerners say. In the 
 old settlements, the farmers now drive their hand- 
 some carriages and high - spirited horses eight 
 and ten miles into town to attend church. Broth- 
 er Kingsbmy? whom you saw to - day, has a farm 
 of three or four hundred acres some twelve miles 
 south of the city, but he moves into town every 
 winter that his children may have the advantages 
 of the schools. And this is not unusual among 
 farmers who, fifteen and twenty years ago, 
 worked upon their farms when they were as wild 
 as these. Now, pianos and organs, books and 
 magazines, sewing machines and clothes - wring- 
 ers, mowers and reapers, are common among 
 them. And in a very few years these families 
 along here, who now rigidly deny themselves 
 what are esteemed the common necessities of life, 
 will likewise be able to surround themselves with 
 these comforts and luxuries." 
 
 Just here, as they turned a corner, she saw, 
 
382 Anna 3fayUe. 
 
 half a mile ahead, a new, white building, whose 
 broad, yellow doors, large windows, conspicuous 
 platform and belfry proclaimed it a church ; al- 
 though there was not a house in sight, and the 
 woods and oak shrubs and hazel brush closed up 
 on either side and stretched away in limitless 
 background. She supposed that they had arrived 
 at Anna's church, and was smiling to think how 
 little she had suffered, when" she was surprised 
 to find that they were gliding by. Rex turned 
 to her again. " Does it not surprise you, Mrs. 
 Auber, to see a church rising in such a wilder- 
 ness ? This belongs to the Methodist Episcopal 
 denomination, and is crowded every Sabbath by 
 families who come from near and far, on foot, and 
 with their ox- teams." 
 
 "Indeed ! I supposed it to be Anna's church." 
 Rex smiled. " Anna's church is a very differ- 
 ent affair ; we have three miles yet to go, to reach 
 her church." 
 
 "Only think of it, Rachel I " exclaimed Anna, 
 
"Xe^ her own Works Praise HerJ*^ 383 
 
 " there is a thickly settled tract of country lying 
 east of this, and until this church was built, last 
 year, there were at least forty families who had 
 not been inside a place of worship for four years, 
 —the condition of things has been truly deplora- 
 ble ! Men and women who, at the East, in their 
 youth, attended church more or less frequently, 
 come West, and take up new land, and settle 
 down and give up church - going entirely." 
 
 "But why is it? " asked Eachel. 
 
 " I can not tell you, in every case. But in 
 many instances, the reason is to be found in the 
 economical way in which they find it necessary to 
 live for the first few years. The Sunday raiment 
 brought from the Eastern home gradually be- 
 comes too worn for longer wear, and in their 
 hard life they do not replace it. Two calico 
 dresses, a shaker, a woolen hood and a pair of 
 stout, serviceable shoes, is the yearly allowance, 
 cheerfully accepted by many a hard - working 
 woman, in this country, for years. I have ascer- 
 
384 Anna Maylie, 
 
 tained this. But I can assure you that they are 
 as painfully aware as any one that they have no 
 clothing in which it would be respectable to ap- 
 pear at church in town, which they seldom have 
 any means of reaching, save by ox teams. You 
 see I am giving you the other side of Ilex's 
 cheerful picture. Well, our backwoodsman is 
 far too sturdy, and far too proud, to encounter 
 the looks and remarks around our crowded church 
 doors if he came urging his oxen along the 
 streets, and then assisted from the rude lumber 
 wagon his wife and children in their calico dresses 
 and shakers and coarse shoes. My heart aches 
 for this class of people ! " 
 
 " Could anything be done ? " asked Rachel, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "Nothing, save to carry the bread of life to 
 them. And only in rare instances can a mission 
 church be built as the wealthy Methodists of town 
 have built this. They received some aid, how- 
 ever, from the people themselves, as the lumber 
 
^^ Let her own Works Praise Her, ^^ 385 
 
 and the team - work were contributed by the 
 farmers here. Now, as Eex says, the house is 
 crowded. It is their own place of worship, and 
 none are ashamed of their humble attire, since the 
 occupants of adjoining pews are no better 
 Iressed." 
 
 "Where does your own mission parish be- 
 gin?" 
 
 ''Oh, that lies farther north. The country is 
 not quite so new in some instances; still, none 
 of the settlers have yet emerged from their ' hard 
 times.' Our work lies wholly among men and 
 women who had not heard a sermon preached, or 
 a prayer offered, for years, — only think of it ! 
 Many families are Irish and German, and had 
 not a copy of the Bible when we began our work. 
 We have supplied them, of course. There are a 
 dozen children in our congregation who never be- 
 fore heard the name of God pronounced, except 
 in the oaths of daily conversation. And, Eachel, 
 upon one thing I am resolved ! As soon as sum- 
 
386 Anna Maylie. 
 
 mer comes, a Sunday school must be estab- 
 lished ! " 
 
 "But you can not do that, — so far away as 
 you live ? " 
 
 " No. Yet I have a plan. I shall send home 
 to Morristown Common for one of my Christian 
 girls, who must needs labor for a living, — one 
 wiio v/ould love to work for Jesus, and who would 
 tlierefore delight in missionary work. Then I 
 shall procure for her the district school among my 
 people. We shall then come over and organize a 
 Sabbath school, and establish her as its superin- 
 tendent. Her salary as missionary I myself shall 
 
 Her husband smiled as he exchanged glances 
 with Itiichel. " Anna's little, private, strawberry 
 fortune is an inexhaustible fund for her home 
 missionary work. She never yet has asked aid 
 from me, or from our church." 
 
 Anna went on : " Since you have told me so 
 much about Agnes Green, I have thought of 
 
" Let her own Woi^ks Praise Her,'' 387 
 
 Bending for her. I shall send now and then for 
 one of mj Morristown girls when 1 need a mis- 
 sionary in these new spots. Would to heaven I 
 could find a bright, resolute, Christian girl, with 
 the true missionary spirit for every backwoods 
 district school in the West, where there is not 
 already a Sunday school established ! " 
 
 Still on they dashed, by one wild farm after 
 another, until the landscape began to lose its 
 novelty and excitement. It was fast growing 
 dark, and Eachel leaned back in her seat, her 
 face really stinging with the cold, and her feet 
 aching painfully. She involuntarily moved 
 nearer Anna, who said, — " You are suffering, 
 Eachel ; but we are almost there now." 
 
 Each one drew the wraps closer as the dark- 
 ness settled down, and the wild blasts swept over 
 them. Rachel, too, was glad now to bury her 
 face in her furs and take no note of their progress, 
 — only to endure. 
 
 Finally they stopped. " Here at last I " said 
 
388 Anna Maylie. 
 
 Rex, cheerily, as he came to their side. " I have 
 stopped at Mrs. Catlin's, Anna, for 1 thought 
 you would best go in there and warm, quietly. 
 It will be so close, and crowded, and heated, up 
 there, I feared Mrs. Auber might faint, coming 
 directly in from the cold." 
 
 With her stiff, benumbed fingers E-achel drew 
 back her wraps, and looked out. She could see 
 that they had paused in front of a small log house 
 where a light twinkled dimly. She essayed to 
 rise, but would have fallen had it not been for her 
 husband's quick arm. She saw Rex steadying 
 Anna as he placed her upon the ground, and 
 heard her say, — "I shall be able to walk in a mo- 
 ment; but how sorry I am we came." 
 
 Rachel found she required the same support. 
 Warmly wrapped and protected as they were, 
 the fierce cold had penetrated all ; and her feet 
 felt like balls when she tried to step ; and she 
 was glad of Rex's assistance as he attended them 
 to the door. " 1 think I will put the horses in 
 
" Let her own Works Praise Uery 389 
 
 the barn to - night ; then I must go in immedi- 
 ately, for I fear it is late. Get thoroughly warm 
 before you come up." 
 
 A little girl, in a scant, home-made flannel 
 dress, with closely -cut hair, came to the door. 
 "Ma is tomeetin'," she said, timidly. 
 
 But they entered, and Anna made Rachel as 
 comfortable as she could, giving her a seat at a 
 distance from the fire that she might become grad- 
 ually accustomed to the warmth ; but even with 
 this precaution, Eachel was faint and in suffering 
 for a long time. " You know I was afraid for 
 you," Anna said. "I am quite used to something 
 like this myself when we come over here ; yet I 
 think I never knew it quite so cold." 
 
 Rachel bore it bravely, however, and at last 
 announced herself ready to go. Anna led the 
 way, and she followed, up a steep hill and along 
 a well - trodden path. The snow eeemcd 
 trampled and cut up in every direction with 
 eleigh tracks, but still Rachel could see no church. 
 
390 Anna Maylie, 
 
 " Is it far ? " she inquired. 
 
 "No, we are here." 
 
 Rachel could indeed hear the sound of singing, 
 and removing her veil, she saw — only another log 
 building — no church. "I do not see," she 
 said. 
 
 "Here, Eachel, — this little log school - house, 
 — this is ray church ! " 
 
 Shaking the snow from their dresses, Anna 
 opened the door, — not into a vestibule, or an 
 entry, as Rachel had expected, but right upon the 
 congregation itself. She involuntarily paused as 
 she closed the door. The low, rough building 
 was but dimly lighted, and it merely seemed a 
 sea of men's heads and shoulders. It took a sec- 
 ond glance to discern the brighter coloring of 
 woman's presence. Desks and seats ran along 
 the sides, and stretched almost up to the great, 
 rusty stove, and every space was packed, — and 
 with what an assemblage ! Even directly in front 
 of themselves, and barring their passage, a long 
 
^^ Let her own Worlcs Praise Her,''^ 391 
 
 seat ran across, and a row of men and boys sat 
 upon it, with every head turned toward them. 
 At the farther end of the room, standing upon a 
 platform behind a rough table, she could discern 
 Rex. Near him, at the end of a low seat, sat her 
 husband, only distinguishable in the obscurity by 
 his black coat and white collar and shirt bosom. 
 
 But Anna was moving, and she followed. A 
 step, and men and boys rose, Anna stepped upon 
 the seat, and then down again on the other side. 
 She followed, and in a moment they were seated. 
 They were now singing familiar Ortonville. 
 Hearty and untutored were the voices, — some 
 clear, and some shrill, but each in earnest and 
 entirely unrepressed, — Anna and her husband 
 leading them serenely. 
 
 She looked around upon the densely - packed 
 men and boys, some of them with their long locks 
 brushed up high in the style of years ago, but 
 many more with their shaggy hair and beard 
 wholly uncared for. The carelessly - worn blouse 
 
892 Anna Maylie. 
 
 and coat displayed shirts of gray and brown 
 woolen. Well-worn coats, faded to every hue, 
 often ragged, met the eye, diversified, here and 
 there, by an old - fashioned black broadcloth, and, 
 now and then, a blouse, or " wawmus," as West- 
 erners say. Heavy trousers worn inside cowhide 
 boots completed the costumes of these sturdy men 
 and strong - limbed youths ; but the glow of 
 health, and contentment, and good will, shone on 
 every face. 
 
 She turned to her own side of the house. 
 She was struck with the diminutiveness of both 
 heiself and Anna, as she looked at the stalwart 
 women among whom they sat. Their very size 
 gave her an odd feeling of timidity as she raised 
 her eyes to their faces, reddened with health and 
 exposure, resolute in expression, yet beaming with 
 kindness. She glanced back of her, where the 
 younger women and girls were seated. Several 
 of them had thrown aside their shawls, and taken 
 oflf their hoods. . Among them, she saw many a 
 
" Let her own Works Praise Her J' 393 
 
 bright, rosy face, and many a countenance lighted 
 with natural intelligence. Calico dresses and 
 heavy woolen shawls predominated, with here 
 and there a hat and a sacque which evidently had 
 been purchased in town. 
 
 She bestowed the third glance of scrutiny upon 
 Anna's church itself. The walls were unhevm 
 logs, the windows few and small, the seats and 
 counters rough and unpainted, and chipped and 
 cut by mischievous knives. Maps and black- 
 boards, and staring portraits on rollers of Granf 
 and Lincoln, hung against the logs. Standinc 
 here and there upon the counters were talloT\ 
 candles, in candlesticks brought from home by 
 the various families ; a few more stood around in 
 wooden sconces, — merely a square block with a 
 hole bored of the size requisite to admit the candle ; 
 still another set were stuck in sections of raw po- 
 tatoes, and a few more, simply wrapped in paper, 
 were held in hand among the men. But the two 
 on the desk were placed in a pair of tall glass 
 
394 Anna Maylie, 
 
 candlesticks, — a souvenir of the girlhood of some 
 woman present, llachel presumed, and brought 
 there by their owner in an attempt to make the 
 humble, little backwoods pulpit look as respecta- 
 ble as possible. Eachel felt no inclination what- 
 ever to smile; instead, she was conscious of be- 
 ing moved by the sight of this rude population 
 thronging in so eagerly where they might be fed 
 with the bread of life. 
 
 This evening, she saw Eex in a new light, 
 and felt again his especial fitness for Western and 
 pioneer work. He did not content himself with 
 a simple " talk" to this congregation. He was 
 aware of the weight and dignity of an actual ser- 
 mon, and so, although he never carried a written 
 sermon there, he invariably " took a text." 
 
 To Rachel this impromptu sermon was more 
 remarkable for its directness than the one of the 
 morning. Couched in language which was at 
 once familiar and dignified, he brought the les- 
 sons of his text, — Christian honor, Christian hon- 
 
^^ Let her own Works Praise Her»^ 395 
 
 estj, Christian forbearance and the true Christian 
 mode of forgiving seventy times seven, — down to 
 the comprehension of the most untutored mind. 
 She looked around upon his hearers. The men 
 sat leaning their elbows upon their knees, their 
 shaggy heads resting upon their hands, their earn- 
 est faces upturned to his, drinking in every word 
 So clearly adapted was it to their humble needs, 
 they could not fail to go home thoroughly aware 
 of their duty in regard to those neighborhood dif- 
 ficulties of line fences, broken log -chains, and 
 unruly oxen. If Henry Markham, who had had 
 so much bad luck and sickness in his family dur- 
 ing the past year, found his rich neighbor, Mr. 
 Camp, who held a mortgage on his "forty," un- 
 expectedly lenient in the matter of his failure to 
 have the interest money ready, he had these 
 plain, forcible sermons to thank. Yo^'cj easy, too, 
 it should be hereafter for the women of this 
 neighborhood to feel when news was degenerating 
 into scandal, and proper pride into malice and 
 
396 Anna May He, 
 
 envy. Nowhere better than here, Rachel felt, 
 could Rexford Palmer's natural insight :n human 
 nature, and his frank, sympathetic temperament, 
 have united so effectually with his well - trained 
 intellect to do crood service for the Master. 
 
 When the benediction was pronounced, the 
 assembly left their seats, but none departed. 
 Rex came down into their midst and made his 
 way among them, shaking hands on this side and 
 on that ; and a strange confusion reached Rachel's 
 ear, of Irish - English, German - English, and 
 Sw^ede - English, mingling with the broad, hearty 
 greetings of the true American Westerner. 
 
 Anna was similarly surrounded. Laying her 
 hand upon Rachel's arm to call her attention, she 
 formally introduced her, first to this stalwart 
 dame, then to the hard - faced Irish woman by 
 her side, then to this rosy, young woman, after- 
 wards to a couple of young matrons, each bearing 
 aloft a sturdy baby in hood and cloak, and finally 
 to each and every woman present, for she saw 
 
" Let her own Worlcs Praise HerJ*^ 397 
 
 they had all crowded close, awaiting their turn. 
 Rachel failed not to take the hand of each with 
 rfue cordiality, and she listened with sincere in- 
 ierest to all they said to their pastor's wife. 
 
 " Missus, you better come 'ome with us," 
 urged the robust English woman by whose side 
 she had sat. " "We '11 be powerful glad to 'ear a 
 chapter, and we '11 care for the 'orses and your- 
 selves hover night, and mebbe in the morning it 
 will be more comfortable riding." 
 
 But before the invitation could be accepted or 
 declined, Mrs. Malone elbowed her way forward. 
 " Shure, Mrs. Par-r-mer-r, ye '11 fraze, an' the 
 (eddy wid yez, if yez go home the night ! It's 
 himsilf that '11 make yez wilcome to the bit, and 
 the sup, and the clane, white bed if ye '11 come 
 home with U3 ; and its meself and him that '11 
 glape inty the clane, swate straw in the loft, and 
 give this young leddy and her husband the bed 
 from under us if y^ HI 50 ; — w«^'s not forgot the 
 Houly Book yci re A ..truces gcive us 1 *' 
 
398 Anna May lie. 
 
 Anna thanked them all kindly, but, since 
 Rachel thought she could endure the ride, she felt 
 the J must return. " Och thin ! if yez must, yez 
 must ! But here's me children growin' up like 
 weeds, and niver a prayer-r or a wir-r-d of the 
 blissed Son of God do they hear-r- ! " 
 
 Anna took the brawny hand which was wiping 
 away the tears. " Next summer I will certainly 
 send a teacher to the children. Bring them to 
 church w^henever you can, and try to teach them 
 the difference between right and wrong at home. 
 Pray earnestly to God to give you light for your- 
 selves and them. God answers everybody that is 
 in earnest, Mrs. Malone." 
 
 " Could n't you possibly stay over with us, 
 Mrs. Palmer?" inquired a pretty, modest - look- 
 ing woman, following them a step as they turned 
 to go toward the gentlemen, who were buttoning 
 their overcoats preparatory to going out for the 
 horses. " Could n't you, Mrs. Palmer, and go 
 around among us to - morrow ? There are those 
 
" Let her own Worlcs Praise Her" 399 
 
 who are troubled about their souls," she added in 
 a choked voice. 
 
 Anna stopped by her side. "This time we 
 can not, Mrs. Scranton ! The reason we can 
 not, is because Mr. Palmer said nothing to 
 Brother Kingsbury about keeping the horses, — 
 but the next time we come we will come to stay 
 over night, and perhaps a day or two ; — tell 
 them so if you please ; and tell them, Mrs. Scran- 
 ton, tell them there will be a prayer meeting here 
 at the school - house instead of preaching, two 
 weeks from to - nioht." 
 
 " O Anna Maylie ! — the work that lies 
 around you ! — the wide - stretching Macedonia 
 at your door ! — here is a field lor Fanny How- 
 land. I am glad she is coming to you, of all the 
 world I " exclaimed Eachel, when she was seated 
 once more by Anna's side. 
 
 " Do you wonder now," said Anna, " when I 
 tell you that both night and day a vision appears 
 to me as of old it appeared to Paul? Like the 
 
400 Anna Ma'glie, 
 
 Macedonij\n man of the apostle's vision, these 
 Western men and women haunt me with their 
 prayer, saying, — ^ Come over^ come over, come 
 over into Macodcnia and help us !' " 
 
 The gliding days brought among them the last 
 day of Rachel's visit. Fanny had been tele- 
 graphed, but had not yet arrived, much to 
 Rachel's regret, who wished to see her once 
 more, and so lingered until the last possible mo- 
 ment ; but Prof. Auber's engagements required 
 his presence at an appointed time, and rendered 
 delay beyond a certain limit impossible. There- 
 fore, one Wednesday afternoon found them, ac- 
 companied by their host and hostess, waiting at 
 the depot for the four o'clock express, still hop- 
 ing that Fanny might arrive on the train due 
 from the East. And as the train thundered in, 
 Rex went out to see if peradventure she might be 
 on board. It was to their great surprise how- 
 ever, since the chance was so small, that they 
 
^^ Let her own Works Praise Her,''* 401 
 
 saw him return with her on his arm, and her 
 little sister by her side. At the first glance, 
 Anna could scarcely believe that this lady in 
 heavy mourning, with face so sad and quiet, 
 could be Fanny Howland ; for, up to this mo- 
 ment, in spite of all Rachel had said, she had 
 pictured her as she saw her last, at a church festi- 
 val, fair and smiling, in a dress of beautiful 
 blue, with pansies clustering in her golden hair. 
 But her heart was overflowing with welcome for 
 the dependent girl ; and impulsively she went 
 forward and took her within her arms as an elder 
 sister might, and there, upon the shoulder of the 
 washer - woman's daughter whom she had once 
 despised and neglected, Fanny wept her first 
 tears since the crushing blow. 
 
 Farewell was so soon to follow upon the words 
 of greeting, that question and answer crowded 
 fast as those three girls of Miss Clemmer's stood 
 with clasped hands. Among the inquiries for the 
 people of Morristown, Anna asked, — "Clara, 
 
402 Anna May lie, 
 
 and Satie, — do you know any thing of them?" 
 " Indeed I do, Mrs. Palmer. They are both 
 already in the Seminary preparing for the work 
 to which they have formally consecrated their 
 lives. Mrs. and Mr. Marsh, and Clara's friends 
 have, at last, given them up to the labor they 
 have chosen ; and as soon as they are fitted, they 
 expect to sail for Syria, or Turkey, as teachers in 
 the mission - school there. Is not theirs a g4ori- 
 ous destiny? Were it not for little Lilian, I 
 should also go." 
 
 Anna turned away with tearful eyes > — " All 
 Miss Clemmer's girls, at last 1 " 
 
BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 HOLD UP YOUR HEADS, GIRLS ! By Annie H. Ryder, ^r.oa 
 
 One of the brightest, breeziest books for girls ever writien ; as sweet and 
 wholesome as the breath of clover on a clear June morning, and as full of life 
 and inspiration as a trumpet call. The writer, a popular teacher, speaks o£ 
 what she knows, and has put her own magnetism into these little plain, sensi- 
 ble, earnest talks, and the girls will read them and be thrilled by them as by a 
 personal presence. 
 
 A NEW DEPARTURE FOR GIRLS. By Margaret Sidney. 
 
 75 cents. 
 
 In this bright little ^ory, we see what may be really done in the way of self- 
 support by young women of sturdy independence and courage, with no false 
 pride to deter them from taking up the homely work which they are capable 
 oi doing. It will give an incentive to many a bafHed, discouraged girl who 
 has failed from trying to work in the old ruts. 
 HOW THEY LEARNED HOUSEWORK. By Christina 
 
 Goodwin. 75 cents. 
 
 Four merry sch.oolgirls during vacation time are inducted into the mysteries 
 of chamber-work, cooking, washing, ironing, pntting up preserves and cutting 
 and making underclothes, all under the careful supervision of one of the moth- 
 ers. The whole tiling is made attractive for them in a way that is simply cap- 
 tivating, and the story of their experiment is full of interest. 
 A GIRL'S ROOM. With plans and designs for work upstairs and 
 
 down, and entertainments for herself and friends. By Some Friends oy 
 
 THE Girls. $1.00. 
 
 This dainty volume not only shows girls how to make their rooms cosey and 
 attractive at small trouble and expense, but also how to pass a social evening 
 with various games, and to prepare many pretty and useful articles for them- 
 selves and friends. 
 
 CHRISTIE'S CHRISTMAS. By Pansy, izmo, fully illustrated, 
 
 ^1.50. 
 
 Christie is one of those delightfully life-like, naive and interesting charac- 
 ters which no one so well as Pansy can portray, and in the study of which 
 every reader will find delight and profit. 
 
 ANNA MARIA'S HOUSEKEEPING. By Mrs. S. D. Power. 
 
 i6mo, extra cloth, $1.00. 
 
 Articles on household matters, written in a clear, fascinating style out o£ 
 the experience of a writer who knows whereof she spealis. Every girl and 
 young housekeeper should own a copy. 
 
 BRAVE GIRLS. By Mary Hart\vell Catherwood, Nora Perry, 
 
 Mrs. John Sherwood and others. $1.50. 
 
 Here are deeds of stirring adventure and peril, and quiet heroism no less 
 brave, to incite girls to be faithful and fearless, strong and true to the right. 
 
 BBW EVERY MORNING: Selections of Readings for 
 
 Girls. By Annie H. Ryuer. $1.00. 
 
 This IS just such a book as one would expect from the popular author of 
 " Hold up your Head?, Girls! " and will be no less a favorite The selections 
 are all choice and apprporiate, and will be eagerly read each morning by the 
 happy owners. 
 
 Any book mentioned herein -will be sent postpaid on 
 
 receipt of price by 
 
 D. LOTHROP & CO., 32 Frantlin Street, Boston. 
 
BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 ALL AMONG THE LIGHTHOUSES. By Mary Bradford 
 Crowninshield, wife of Commander Crowninshield. Finely illustrated 
 from photographs and original drawings. Extra cloth, quarto, ^2.50. 
 An attractive book for boys, giving the account of an actual trip along the 
 
 coast of IMaine by a lighthouse inspector with tv^o wide awake boys in charge. 
 
 The visits to the numerous lighthouses not only teem with incident, but 
 
 abound in information that will interest every one. 
 
 BOYS' HEROES. By Edward Everett Hale. Reading Union 
 
 Library. i6mo, illustrated, cloth, $1.00. 
 
 Twelve chapters containing the story told in Dr. Hale's characteristic style, 
 of a dozen characters famed in history as worthy to bear the title of heroes, 
 and the story of whose deeds and lives possesses a special interest for boys. 
 
 PLUCKY BOYS. Business Boys' Library. By the author of "John 
 
 iialifax. Gentleman," and other authors. $1.00. 
 
 " Apound of pluck is worth a ton of luck." — President Garfield. Spirited 
 narratives of boys who have conquered obstacles and become successful busi« 
 pess men ; or of other young fellows w ho have shown fearlessness and " fight " 
 in situations of danger. 
 
 A BOY'S WORKSHOP. By A Boy and His Friends. $1.00. 
 
 Just the book for boys taking their first lesson in the use of tools. All sorts 
 of prr-ctical suggestions and sound advice, with valuable illustrations fill the 
 volume. 
 
 BOY LIFE IN THE UNITED STATES NAVY. By H. H. 
 
 Clark. i2mo, illustrated, $1.50, 
 
 If there is anything in the way of human attire which more than any other 
 commands the admiration and stirs the enthusiasm of the average boy of what- 
 ever nation, it is the trim uniform and shining buttons vhat distinguish the 
 jolly lads of the " Navy," In this graphically written and wonderfaiiy enter- 
 taining volum.e, boy life in the Navy of the United States is describe.^ hy a 
 naval ofScer, in a manner which cannot fail to satisfy the boys. 
 
 HOW SUCCESS IS WON. By Mrs. Sarah K. Bolton. *i.oo. 
 This is the best of the recent books of this popular class of biography ; all 
 its " successful men " are Americans, and with two or three exceptions they 
 are living and in the fuU tide of business and power. In each case, the facts 
 have been furnished to the author by the subject of the biography, or by fam- 
 ily friends ; and INIrs. Bolton has chosen from this authentic material those 
 incidents which mor.t fully illustrate the successive steps and the ruling princi- 
 plc-=:, by which success has been gained. A portrait accompanies each biog- 
 ra2.hy. 
 
 STORIES OP DANGER AND ADVENTURE. By Rose G. 
 
 KiNGSLEY, 13. P. Shillaeer, Frederic Schwatka and Others, gi.25. 
 Fascinatinf: stoms of thrillmg incidents iii all sorts of places and with all 
 kinds of people. Very fully illustrated. 
 
 WONDER STORIES OP TRAVEL. By Eliot McCormick, 
 Ernest Ixgersoll, L. E. Lrowx, David Ker and others. Fully illus- 
 trated. $1.50. 
 From the oncnin-:; storv, " A Boy's Race with General Grant at Ephesus,'* 
 
 to th.e h-t, "A Child in Florcr.cj," this book is full of s;ir and interest. 
 
 Indian, Iialian, Chinese, German, English, Scotch, French, Arabian and 
 
 Ecryp'inn serines ?.rd people are d^-scribed, and there is sucli a feast of good 
 
 things one hardly knows which to choose first. 
 
 Any book mentioned Herein will b© oent post paid on 
 
 receipt of price by 
 
 D. LOTHBOP di 00.. 82 Fram^llB Btr««t. Boston. 
 
MARGARET SIDNEY'S BOOKS. 
 
 That "Child Classic," FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS AND HOW 
 TH.EY G-II.BW, comes out in a new, cha7-ming ed-.iion. ;? 1.50. 
 The perfect reproduction of child life in its minutest pluses catches one's 
 
 attention at once. — Christian A dvocate. 
 
 SO AS BY FIRE. $1.23. 
 
 We have followed with intense interest the story of David Folsom. — ■ 
 Woman at Work. 
 
 THE PETTIBONE NAME. ^1.25. 
 
 This is a capital story illustrating New England life. — Inter-Ocean, Chi=> 
 cago. 
 
 The characters of tlie story seem to be tudies from life. — Boston Post. 
 HALF YEAa AT BRONCK^ON. ^1.25. 
 
 A lively boy writes, " This is aboni; the best book that ever was written or 
 ever can be." 
 
 HOW THEY WENT TO EUROPE. t6mo, illustrated. 
 
 The plan of the book resembles, i:i some lespects, that of "A Voyage 
 Around my Room." It is certainly bright. — N. Y. hidependev.t. 
 
 THE GOLDEN WEST. Extra cloth, ^2.25; boards, Jii.75. 
 
 The best travel book for children It combines fun v.'ith instruction in the 
 right proportions. The pictures of tb.e States wc t of the Alississippi and 
 along the sunny Pacific slopes, are full of graphic coloring, 
 
 WHO TOLD IT TO ME? $1.25. 
 
 A most stirring story of school life in New Englar.d. The characters make 
 their mark in the war for the Union. It is such a book as you would expect 
 from Margaret Sidney. 
 
 WHAT THE SEVEN DID. Boards, $1.75; extra cloth, ^2.? 5. 
 
 A royal gift book for children. They read it again and again, and, best of 
 all, they practice it. Many Wordsworth Clubs are doing deeds of charity ac- 
 cording to the model xa this book. 
 
 A NEW DEPARTURE FOR GIRLS. 75 cants. 
 
 The most practical, sensible and to-the-pomt book wliich has been written 
 for girls within the last fifty years — agodse!;d to the " Helen Harknesses" 
 of our great cities, and small towns as well. That this kindly effort has already 
 reached young women is evident from advertisements already appearing in the 
 "Wanted '' columns of the Boston dailies. 
 
 POLLY : Where she lived, what she said and what she 
 
 Did. Quarto, 50 cents. 
 
 With twelve full-page pictures by Margaret Johnson. A story of a funny 
 parrot and two charming children. 
 
 ON EASTER DAY. An illustrated poem. 35 cents, 
 
 THE MINUTE MAN. A ballad of the " shot heard round the world.'* 
 Illustrated, $1.50. 
 
 HESTER, and other New England Stories. A story for adults ^1.25. 
 
 The character touches are strong and well-defined. It is fresh with New 
 England atmosphere. 
 
 TWO MODERN LITTLE PRINCES, and other Stories for young 
 people. #1.00. 
 Full of exquisite touches of humor and pathos, and cosey home life. 
 
 Copyright, 1886, by D. Lothrop & Co. 
 
SPARE MINUTE SERIES. 
 
 THOUGHTS THAT BREATHE. 
 From Dean Stanley. Introduction by Phillips Brooks. 
 
 CHEERFUL WORDS. 
 From George MacDonald. Introduction by James T. Fields 
 
 THE MIGHT OF RIGHT. 
 From Rt. Hon. Wm. E. Gladstone. Introduction by John D. 
 Long, LL. D. 
 
 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 From Thomas Hughes. Introduction by Hon. James Russell 
 Lowell. 
 
 LIVING TRUTHS. 
 From Charles Kingsley. Introduction by W. D. Howells. 
 
 RIGHT TO THE POINT. 
 From Theodore L. Cuyler, D. D. Introduction by Newman 
 Hall, LL.. B. 
 
 MANY COLORED THREADS. 
 From Goethe. Introduction by Alexander McKenzie, D. D. 
 
 ECHOES OF MANY VOICES. 
 Introduction by Mrs. E. A. Thurston. 
 
 TREASURE THOUGHTS. 
 From Canon Farrar. Introduction by Rose Porter. 
 
 Each volume, i27no, doth, $i.oo. 
 
 D. LOTHROP & CO., Publishers, 
 
 Franklin and Hawley Streets, Bostoi^ 
 
Stands fo?'emosf 
 
 ** Ideal Ame7'ican magazines!^ 
 
 It is a fact acknowledged by 
 the English press that American 
 magazines, by enterprise, able edi- 
 torship, and liberal expenditure for 
 the finest of current art and litera- 
 ture, have won a rank far in ad- 
 vance of European magazines. 
 
 It is also a fact that for 
 
 young people 
 
 WIDE AWAKE 
 
 In pie astir e-giziing ! 
 In practical helping ! 
 Each year's numbers contain a thoiisatui quarto pages, covering th* widest 
 range of literature of interest and value to voung people, from such authors as 
 John G. Whittier, Charles Egbert Craddock, Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney, Susan 
 Coolidge, Edward Everett Hale, Arthur Oilman, Edwin Arnold, Rose 
 Kingsley, Dinah Mulock Craik, Marcaret Sidney, Helen Hunt Jackson 
 (H. H.), Harriet Beecher Stowe, Elbridge S. Brooks and hundreds of 
 othels; znA half athoiisajici ilhcstrationshv Y.'H. Lungren, W. T Smedley, 
 Miss L. B. Humphrey, F. S. Church, INIary Hallock Foote, F. Chjlde 
 Has3tim, E. H. Garrett, Hy. Sandham and other leading American artists. 
 ♦U.'Vl.ir f!3.©0 A IflilAIS. ^Il@.^PE€TijS FiSEEJ. 
 Wide Awake is the official organ of the C. Y. F. R. U. The Required 
 ReaJings are also issued simultaneously as the Chautauqua Young Fclks' 
 JouiiNAL, with additional matter, at 75 cents a year. 
 
 Ifoff ake yoisager 13oys asad <l5Ia'Is and the Babies: 
 
 The Pansy, 
 
 Edited by the famous 
 author of the " Pansy 
 Books,'' is equally 
 charming and suitable for 
 week-day and Sunday 
 reading.' Always contains 
 a serial by " Pansy." 
 $1.00 a year. 
 
 Our Little Men 
 and Women, 
 
 With its 75 full-page 
 pictures a year, and num 
 
 barless smaller, and itsjits large beautiful p;ct 
 deiia,htful stories a n d,ures, its merry stories and 
 po-ms, is most admirable jingles, in large type -- 
 for the youngest readers 
 $1.00 a year. 
 
 Babyland 
 
 Never fails to carry de- 
 light to the babies and 
 rest to the mammas, with 
 
 heavy paper 
 
 50 cts. a year. 
 ^W Send for specimen copies, circulars, etc. , to the Publishers, 
 
 B. LOTHROP & CO., BOSTON, MASS., U. S. At 
 
ELLA FARMAN'S BOOKS. 
 
 These books, by the Editor of Wide Awake, are full of 
 sympa-.hy with youth, always sunshiny and hopeful, point- 
 ing out new ways to do things nd unexpected causes for 
 happiness and gadness. 9 vols., large i6mo, illust., $i0.oo. 
 
 ANNA MAYLIB. 
 A story of faithful, resolute work in the Sunday-school 
 an; in the fieid of the Western religioub pioneer. A stand- 
 ard book for the libraries of Christian families. i2mo, 
 $1.50. 
 
 A LITTLE WOMAN. 
 A beautiful story of what a little girl may do. i6mo, 
 $ I 00. 
 
 GRANDMA CROSBY'S HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 A story narrating the noble possibilities of even the 
 simplest farmhouse life. i6mo, illust,, $1.00. 
 
 A GIRL'S MONEY. 
 A fascinating and pathetic story of a girl who was true to 
 her ideals. r6ri. \ illust., $1.00. 
 
 GOOI FOR-NO THING POLLY. 
 
 The story of a boy who ran away from home, assisted by 
 his father and the minister. i6nio, cloth, illust., $1.00. 
 
 HOW TWO GIRLS TRIED FARMING. 
 A piquant narrative of an actual experience. i6mo, 
 paper, 50 cents. Cloth, $1.00. 
 
 THE COOKING CLUB OF TU-WKIT HOLLOW. 
 
 A merry, brigh book that will help maue good house- 
 keepers of our daughters ; as through and through the 
 sparkling story runs practical lessons and vaiuable sug- 
 estions. i6mo, $1 00. 
 
 MRS. HURD'S NIECE. 
 This is one of JVi.ss Farman's strongest works for girls, 
 with characters finely drawn. i2mo, cloth, illustrated, ^i-Sa 
 
 A WHITE HAND. 
 A story of American boc.ety. i6mo, illust., ^1.50. 
 
The Yensie Walton Books, 
 
 These books, from the pen of Mrs. S. R. Graham Clark, are possessed 
 of such conspicuous merits, as to secure for them tlie u.iquahfied com- 
 mendation of eminent religious journals such as the Centra! Christian 
 Advocate, The yoitriial and Messe7iger , The N'eiv Orleans Christian 
 Advocate, The Lidherau Obzerz<er, Christian at Work. The Dover 
 Mor7iing Star, The Gospel Banner, Philadelphia Methodist, Herald 
 and Presbyter. 
 
 YENSIE WALTON. OUR STREET. 
 
 YENSIE WALTON'S WOMAMHOOD. 
 THE TRIPLE E. ACHOR. 
 
 N i2mo, cloth, illustrated, uniform binding, $1.50 each. 
 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " Yensie Walton," by Mrs. S. R. Graham Clark. Boston : D. Loth- 
 rop & Co. Full of striking incident and scenes of great pathos, with 
 occasional gleams of humor and fun by way of relief to the more tragic 
 parts of the narrative. The characters are strongly drawn, and, in gen- 
 eral, are thoroughly human, not gifted with impossible perfections, but 
 having those infirmities of the flesh which make us all akin. It will take 
 rank among the best and most popular Sunday-school books. — Episcopal 
 Register. 
 
 A pure sweet story of girl life, quiet, and yet of sufficient interest to hold 
 the attention of the most careless reader. — Zion''s Advocate. 
 YENSIE WALTON'S WOMANHOOD. 
 
 The many readers who have made the acquaintance of " Yensie Wal- 
 ton " in one of the best Sunday-school books ever published, will be de- 
 lighted to renew that acquaintance, and to keep their former companion 
 still further company through life. There is a strong religious tone to the 
 whole story, and its teachings of morality and religion are pure and 
 healthful and full of sweetness and beauty. The story is a worthy suc- 
 cessor to Mrs. Clark's previous work. — Boston Post. 
 
 The heroine is an excellent character for imitation, and the entire atmos- 
 phere of the book is healthfal and purifying. —/'///.r^J/^r^ Christian Advo- 
 cate. 
 OUR STREET, 
 
 By the same author, is a capital story of every day life which deals with 
 genuine character in a most mteresting manner. 
 
 THE TRIPLE E, 
 
 Just published, is a book whose provoking title will be at once acknowl- 
 edged by the reader as an appropriate one. It fully sustains the author's 
 reputation. 
 ACHOR, a new book in press. 
 
 D. LOTHROP & CO., Publishers, Boston. 
 
MARIE OLIVER'S STORIES. 
 
 3 vols, i2mo cloth, illustrated, $1.50 each; the set $4.50. 
 
 RUBY HAMILTON. OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. 
 
 SSDA'S DISCIPLINE. 
 Extracts fravrt coinimnts of ■well-k}io7un j ourTials. 
 BUSY HAMILTON. 
 
 This is a very excellent Sunday-school book, which can be 
 honestly commended for youthful readers. — TheWatchman. 
 
 It is a well-told story, conveys a pure, healthful lesson, and 
 is one of the best books of its class. — PJdladelphia E7tqiiirer. 
 
 This is one of the best Sunday-school books in Lothrop's 
 long and admirable list. The story is a sweet one, and 
 charmingly told. — Ckirrck Mirror. 
 
 The spirit throughout is healthy and devout. . . . Al- 
 together it is a charming and instructive book. — The Church' 
 man. 
 
 OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. 
 
 A very excellent specimen of the class of fiction designed 
 for young folk who have ceased to be children witliout 
 having become mature men and women. — N. Y. Eveni7ig 
 Post. 
 
 Many readers will remember " Ruby Hamilton," a volume 
 which created quite a sensation at the time of its publication. 
 . This volume, a continuation of this story, ought to 
 become as popular as its predecessor. — Christian Mirror. 
 
 Contains some charming pictures of home-life. . . . 
 Cannot but help and strengthen the boy whose impulses 
 are for good. — Herald and Presbyter. 
 
 Like all that comes from this author's pen, this volume 
 has merits of both substance and style. — Western Christian 
 Advocate. 
 
 Adds another to the list of really goc' story books.— 
 Cincinnati Journal and Messenger. 
 
 SSBA'S DISCIPLINE. 
 
 A good book to teach the uses of trouble in building up char« 
 acter. — Wester jt Recorder. 
 
 Has a varied and absorbing interest from its beginning to its 
 close. . . . Sometimes sad and wonderfully pathetic; some* 
 times bright and cheerful, it is impressive always. In every 
 resjject it is the best religious story we have seen for many a 
 day, and one . . . that can scarcely fail to benefit any 
 reader whom God leads along rough paths. — The Interior. 
 
 Should be in every Sunday-school library. — The Sta7idarcL 
 
 D. LOTHROP & CO., Publistiers, Boston. 
 
SELF-GIVIl^G. 
 
 " Have read with interest, and with admiration ot the vivid- 
 ness and accuracy which characterize the descriptions given." 
 
 — Rt. Rev. Thomas M. Clark, D. D., Bishop of Rhode Island. 
 " Very interesting. A true insight ; literally truth." — Chris- 
 tian Observer, Louisville, Ky. 
 
 ** It is best that the truth should be told about this matter." — 
 The Biidget, Boston. 
 
 " Important information. Highly interesting as a story." — 
 Lutheran Observer, Philadelphia. 
 
 " Very instructive. His revealments are not at all damaging 
 to any who regard them properly. "Wish all would read it." — 
 jfoicrnal and Alessenger, Cincinnati. 
 
 "Impartial, thorough and attractive." — yoitr7tal, Providence. 
 
 " Will receive a cordial welcome by a host of his admirers." 
 
 — The Methodist, Philadelphia. 
 
 " As throwing light upon the practical features of the mission- 
 ary operations of to-day, the work has no equal in missionary 
 literature." — Advocate of Missions, Nashville, Tenn. 
 
 "Illustrates powerfully' Self-Giving.' Kead intelligently, the 
 influence of the book will be thoroughly good." — President 
 Hovey, Newton Theo. Sem. 
 
 "A valuable work, rich in hints and suggestions. — Sec'y N. 
 G. Clark, D. D., American Board. 
 
 "How much we have enjoyed ! All tlie churches are greatly 
 indebted." — Rev. B. H. Badley, Methodist Missionary, Luck- 
 now, India. 
 
 "Deserving and certain of larger circulation than even same 
 author's Tour of Missions." — Rev. J. Nevius. D. D., Presby- 
 terian Missionary, China. 
 
AFTER THOUGHTS OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 
 
 By Rev. S. H. McCollestee, D. D. 
 
 The author has a happy faculty for vivid descriptions of 
 places and events, but the greater value of the work to the 
 student is in the care and accuracy with which tlie history of 
 the many points of interest visited has been given. Tlie read- 
 er not only sees the towns, churclies and castles as the author 
 saw them, but by his aid sees them in the light of other days in 
 ccmnection with the great events wliich liave forever made them 
 memorable. — Boston Journal. 
 
 A book of rare excellence. The author gathered the choicest 
 material as he passed along, omitting the commonplace facts 
 and incidents wliich usually find their way into books of this 
 class; he has arranged this material very happily, to gain and 
 hold the attention of his readers, and has expressed his after- 
 thoughts in a clear and attractive style. Tlie book is at once, 
 both fascinating and instructive in an unusual degree. — Hiram 
 Orcutt. 
 
 One of the liveliest books of travel we have taken up for a 
 long time. To read it attentively, is to travel side by side with 
 the writer, seeing with our own, as well as with his eyes. We 
 heartily thank the author for the privilege of visiting, with him, 
 London, Edinburgh, Paris, Rome, Athens, Alexandria, Jerusa- 
 lem, and so many other places where our feet have not 
 trodden, but which we have really seen. — Bev. J. G. Adams, 
 D.D. 
 
 The book is the work of a man who sees and thinks, and 
 who, when he travels, brings back something to tell worth 
 
 listening to One ^f the few in the great flood of 
 
 books of travel that are worth reading. — Vt. Reformer. 
 
 12mo, clo-.h. Price, $1.50. 
 
 D. LOTHROP & CO., PUBLISHERS, 
 
 32 Fbanklim Stbeet, Bostoit. 
 
NEW BOOKS 
 
 Around the World Tour of Christian Missions. A Universal Survey. 
 By William F. Bainbridge. With Maps of Prevailing Religions and all Lead- 
 ing Missions Stations. Boston: D. Lothrop & Co Price ^2.oa 
 The readers of the Journal are enjoyably familiar with "Round the World 
 Letters," from the pen of Mrs. Bainbricge, which have recently been published 
 in book form. The same publishers now issue a volume written by the Rev. Mr. 
 Bainbridge, but occupying a different field of research, and embodying more 
 directly the principal purpose of the tour. Mr. and Mrs. Bainbridge with their 
 Eon and a friend made up the little party that started for a two years' journey 
 .'.round the globe. Their object incidentally was to improve the opportunities for 
 eight-seeing afforded by foreign travel, but primarily to examine the principal 
 rj.ission-fields throughout the world. They travelled at their own expense, and 
 v/ere therefore unfettered by obligation to any special missionary organization, 
 i ne only help received was in the form of introductory letters from the secretaries 
 Ci the leading Foreign Missionary Societies of America. They visited over a 
 ti:ousand missionaries, made a close personal examination of the details of their 
 XTork, the amount of good they were accomplishing, and the scope and bearing of 
 present effort in relation to the prospect of the evangelization of the heathen. 
 They returned freighted with the rich material they had so carefully garnered, 
 Ciid full of hope that the day will sometime dawn when the Christian religion 
 cnall prevail throughout the land. 
 
 On the return of the tourists to America, Mr. Bainbridge was urged by the ex- 
 ecutive officers of the missionary societies of the different branches of the 
 Church to publish a record of his personal impre.ssions concerning the utility and 
 r-2thods of Christian Missions. He accepted the commission, and the volume 
 .".ow issued under the title of " Around the World Tour of Christian Missions," 
 -;:nbodies the result of his labors. The work could not have been placed in 
 cetter hands. — Providence Journal. 
 
 i^ouND THE World Letters, By Lucy S. Bainbridge. Boston : D. Lothrop 
 &Co. Price $1.50. 
 
 The author, who had perseverance and energy enough to travel round the 
 v'orld, happily possesses the facile pen that enables her to paint a vivid picture of 
 er adventures by the way. The letters are so sprightly and vivacious, the scenes 
 r,re so graphically portrayed, the character-portraits are so vigorously outlined, 
 iud the information is so tangible that tli^ reader seems for a time to be trans- 
 ported to foreign shores, to become a member of the pleasant travelling party, 
 rmd to share in the perplexities and pleasures, the good fortune and evil fortune 
 that blend in the story, and develop stores of information seldom accessible from 
 30 reliable a source. ^ Providence Journal. 
 
NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Originality. By Elias Nason. Boston: D. Lotbrop <fe 
 Co. Price $.50. Mr. Nasoii has here made a reply to 
 Wendeil Pliillips' "Lost Arts," which is Avell worth read- 
 ing for its point and snggestiveness. He endeavors to shov 
 the meaniug of the word, and what important results have 
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 does not believe that any of the useful arts have been lost. 
 The ancients had few to lose. They made glass, but they 
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 incidents of his life, has quoted liberally from his works to 
 
 illustrate his genius, and from the correspondence and 
 
 wri'.ingsof his personal friends to show the estimation in 
 
 which he was held by them as a man, a philantiu'opist and 
 
 a Christian. The volume commends itself to every lover of 
 
 Dickeus. and deservea to be widely known and read. 
 
Books of the Celebrated Prize 
 
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 Chautauqua Girls at Home. 
 
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 Divers Women, 
 
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 Endless Chain (An). 
 
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 Four Girls at Chautauqua. 
 
 From different Standpoints. 
 
 Hall in the Grove (The). 
 
 Household Puzzles. 
 
 Interrupted. 
 
 Julia Ried. 
 
 King's Daughter .(The). 
 
 Links in Rebecca's Life. 
 
 Mrs. Solomon Smith Looking On, 
 
 Modern Prophets. 
 
 Man of the House (The). 
 
 New Graft on the Family Tree (A)l 
 
 One Commonplace Day. 
 
 Pocket Measure (The). 
 
 Ruth Erskine's Crosses. 
 
 Randolphs (The). 
 
 Sidney Martin's Christmas, - 
 
 Those Boys. 
 
 Three People. 
 
 Tip Lewi? and his Lamp, 
 
 Wise and Otherwise. 
 
 c