rs 
 
 /o/f 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 FROM 
 
 Rhoads General Hospital 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 1019.A5F9 1878 
 
 ffoni,, different standpoints. 
 
 3 1924 021 969 286 
 
 1 IRRAl^iWWSXiE 
 
 PRINTCDINU.a.A. 
 
a Cornell University 
 y Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924021969286 
 
* Pevi-y leaned back in his chair and waited for Una's 
 answer." — Pa^e 124. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 
 
 BY 
 
 PANSY & FA YE HUNTINGTON, 
 
 ATJTH0B3 OP "MODEEIf PEOPHETS," " DB. DEANE'S 
 
 Wat," Etc. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY, 
 
 rBANKLrST ST., COENEK OP HAWLBT. 
 
A^/h^ 
 
 3^-0 
 
 COPYRIGHT BY 
 
 D. LOTH ROP Si CO. 
 1878. ' 
 
From Different Standpoints. 
 
 Redwood, January, 
 
 My Dear Sister Friend : ; 
 
 And are you lonely in the midst of tlie city's 
 whirl? Do you miss your brother? I am free 
 to confess that I miss my sister. If it seemed 
 like banishment" when the old doctor ordered me 
 from the city, at such an unseasonable time of 
 the year, the reality quite fulfills the seeming. I 
 suppose you have as much of an idea of what this 
 place is like as I had before I saw it, which was 
 only something less definite than my idea of the 
 palace and surroundings of the man in the moon. 
 Shall I describe the quaint old farm-house ? No, 
 indeed ! Quaint old farm-houses have been des- 
 cribed by illustrious pens, until there is positively 
 no opportunity for an original rendering of the 
 subject. Please consult Irving, Holmes, Holland. 
 Now I think of it, I fancy that this is not unhke 
 the home where the family gathered at Thanks- 
 
 7 
 
8 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 giving, as pictured in " Bittersweet." Judging 
 from what is brought out of the cellar, its stores 
 would compare favorably with those of that under- 
 ground apartment to which Danil and Ruth (was 
 it Danil and Ruth ?) paid a visit. 
 
 The family: Oh, yes ! There's Uncle Nathan 
 and Aunt Phebe, and Margaret, their daughter. 
 And very kind they all are. 
 
 As to my health : I am improving slowly, but 
 Dr. Mason assures me that I must not think of 
 going back to my books before May or June. 
 With the time I have already lost, it will be too 
 much to make up. So farewell to ambitious 
 schemes and dreams for this year. The class of 
 '60 will have to find another name to hand down 
 as their most illustrious representative. Seriously, 
 I have small hope of being able to graduate with 
 the class, though I manage to study a little. If 
 it were not for this restless longing to get back to 
 the University I could be quite contented here. 
 Cousin Kate's husband is Mr. Fowler, pastor of 
 the church in Redwood. I find him a very agree- 
 able and intellectual gentleman, and I enjoy his 
 society very much. 
 
 As for Cousin Margaret: What is she like? 
 What should she be like, but a daisy ? Are not 
 all Margarets daisies? And is she not the purest 
 and fairest of them all ? But, like everything in 
 this world, she is a puzzle and a contradiction. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 9 
 
 With her mother she talks like a staid and expe- 
 rienced housekeeper ; with her father she talks of 
 business and accounts ; while to me she discourses 
 of books and authors, and thoroughly posted she 
 is in modern literature, and also she is a fair Latin 
 and Greek scholar. But in general society she is 
 hke half the young ladies one meets. Her talk is 
 utter nonsense, and I am afraid she is a wicked 
 little coquette. And yet she is the most saint- 
 like Christian I ever came across. You see I don't 
 know just what she is, or which of her moods is 
 her real self. This morning she brought me my 
 coffee. (I don't get up to breakfast with the fam- 
 ily.) A very blue streak had come iipon me. I 
 said : 
 
 " Oh, Daisy, I am so impatient to be doing 
 something! I really can not aiford to lose so 
 much time." 
 
 " Can you help it ? " she asked. 
 
 " No," I snapped out the monosyllable Hke a 
 cross dog. " If I could help it I shouldn't sit 
 here fretting a great while." 
 
 " But since you can't help it, you'll do your 
 best to make yourself miserable, and hinder re- 
 covery by getting up an indignation meeting all 
 by yourself. Seems to me, Cousin Perry, I'd re- 
 member who it is that has this thing in charge, 
 and not be quite so rebelhous." 
 
 " But, Daisy, if you were a young fellow hke 
 
10 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 me, with your own way to make in tlie world, 
 you'd feel as I do, that every hour is precious," I 
 said, taking sips of the delicious coffee. • 
 
 " To be sure," she answered, " hours are pre- 
 cious, whether we are making our own way or just 
 making life pleasant for. somebody. else. .But I 
 can't help thinking that God knows what" they 
 are worth as well as we do, and if he puts us 
 where we can't fill them with work of our own 
 planning, it must be that he has some other for 
 us, and we would better look around for it — or 
 within." 
 
 In my Hi-humor I was half vexed at what 
 seemed to imply that a little inward searching, 
 and casting out, would not be amiss; but she 
 seemed so perfectly .unconscious of having, said 
 anything impertinent that I had to pass it over 
 sHently. And after all, it is a fact that I need to 
 ask what was the occasion for my being laid aside 
 in this helpless fashion, just as my work was 
 spread out for the years to come ? Always sup- 
 posing that there is an occasion for things, an 
 overruling Providence as Daisy has it, what a . 
 comfort it would be to know whether that were 
 truth or cant ! I can fancy myseK lying quiet, 
 and at rest, even here on my bed, if only I coxild 
 be sure that a great, wise, perfect Being saw the 
 whole story of my life, finished, and knew just 
 why the iLLness came ia, and had his grand rea- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 11 
 
 sons for it. Una, it is splendid theory. The only 
 trouble is I can't believe it ; I wisli with all my 
 heart that I could ; it would be such a comfort. 
 
 This is certainly a remarkable letter. You will 
 give me credit for writing very few such. I wish 
 you were here to help pass away the hours. I 
 fancy you would like Daisy, though she is cer- 
 tainly unlike you as possible. By the way, that 
 is a mark of wonderful genius, the ability to 
 create so many people and have them so unlike 
 each other. 
 
 There ! I'm running off to theology again. It 
 is time to close. In fact it is anyway. My pulse 
 is about two hundred and eighty, I should judge, 
 to guess'by the way the blood races through me, 
 and I am trembling lilie a leaf in the storm, all 
 because I have attempted the writing of a letter. 
 There's strength for you ! 
 
 Una, write to me a long letter. Tell me every- 
 thing. Do help to keep me alive through this 
 dreary, weary winter. 
 
 As ever your brother, 
 
 Pekky Haheison. 
 
^-S^A*- 
 
 Dear Friend : 
 
 I wish I had something out of that cellar. 
 Things in a city never seem to come out of 
 cellars ; never seem to have grown ; they aU feel 
 as if they came from the South, or the West, in a 
 freight-car, and were packed in sawdust, or ice, 
 or something, for a week. Things to eat, I mean. 
 Isn't it queer that every one has to stop work, or 
 play, and eat ? I do think that is one ot the fun- 
 niest things about us. Perhaps, however, your 
 cousin Margaret doesn't eat ! What an extraor- 
 dinary lady she is ! I should think you had sun- 
 shine enough, without any letters of mine, in 
 wliich, by the way, you will find precious little 
 sunshine; you forget that my attic is on the 
 northwest side. 
 
 We have new boarders, a Dr. EUenthorpe, 
 (M. D.), who is as solemn as an owl, and full of 
 business, and disapproves of the way in which 
 you are pretending to get well. He volunteered 
 his opinion ; I didn't consult him. I was reading 
 bits of your last letter but one, to Mrs. Ramsay, 
 who, you know, has a motherly sort of interest in 
 
 12 
 
I'rom Different Standpoints. 13 
 
 all creation, and among other things I read that 
 Dr. Mason had ordered bourbon three times a day. 
 Dr. EUenthorpe was standing by the mantel, 
 talking, as I suppose, with Laura Myers, or talk- 
 ing over her. I think anyone with brains may be 
 excused from trying to talk with her. Just at 
 that point he raised his voice and said : 
 
 " Your friend is unfortunate in his choice of 
 physicians, if he has been encouraged to hope 
 anything from the use of bourbon." 
 
 Somewhat amazed at his knowledge of matters 
 of which he must necessarily be ignorant, I an- 
 swered, curtly : 
 
 " Perhaps you are not acquainted with the dis- 
 ease for wliich it has been ordered." 
 
 He answered me with the utmost composure : 
 
 " It makes not the slightest difference what the 
 disease is, except that in some cases it is more 
 disastrous in its results than others. It is never 
 beneficial. Tell your fiiend so, from me." 
 
 So, there you have the benefit of Dr. Ellen- 
 thorpe's advice, free of charge. He stands very 
 high in high circles here. I didn't tell Tiim so, 
 but I believe it is good advice. I hate bourbon." 
 
 Another new boarder is Mr. Romaine. He is 
 a carpenter. Think of Miss Alice Perkins hav- 
 ing to dine every day with a carpenter ! — or sup, 
 rather. He takes his breakfast every morning 
 before she is up, and the third meal he doesn't 
 
14 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 take at all. She says lie is a master-builder ; that 
 sounds better than carpenter, you know. He is a 
 good man, and some curious experiences grow out 
 of his goodness. For instance, we have family 
 worship in the large parlor every evening. I 
 don't know how Aunt Ruth's consent was gained, 
 except that people seem to have a way of con- 
 senting to what he wants done before they know 
 it. Anyway, he announced, one evening, that 
 after tea there would be prayers in the east par- 
 lor, and the boarders were all invited. There 
 was a good deal of nudging of elbows, and some 
 giggling, but a • dozen or so strolled in, I among 
 the number. Not being particularly interested 
 in prayers, I had not the slightest idea of attend- 
 ing until I heard Ella Heath whisper to Charlie : 
 
 " What an idea ! And he only a mechanic ! 
 It would be bad enough if he were a minister ! " 
 
 " Aren't mechanics allowed to pray in Boston ? " 
 I said to her, with a very uppish sound to my 
 voice. She is from Boston, you know. After 
 that I had to go in, to look consistent. My 
 tongue is always leading me into strange places ; 
 but it was real pleasant, after all. I never heard 
 " Ortonville " sound so well. Mr. Eomaine led 
 the singing, and did it well. He reads well, too. 
 It is a pity that Dr. Howe couldn't take lessons ■ 
 of him — his singing grows more intolerable to me 
 every Sunday. This Mr. Romaine has a strange 
 
From Different Standpoints. 15 
 
 "way of saying things. I sat near him, one even- 
 ing, at prayers, and, after the singing, he turned 
 suddenly to me, and said : 
 
 ■ " Miss Eunice, do you mean to sing with the 
 angels ? " 
 
 His voice was as quiet and composed as if he 
 had simply asked me whether I meant to sing in 
 church ne?;t Sunday. I was a little bit startled, 
 hut I answered him promptly enough : 
 
 ".I-have. never learned their tunes. I presume 
 I should make 'discard." 
 
 " You must learn to sing by note," he said, 
 smiling gravely. Then he went on with his 
 reading. 
 
 ' Charlie Thorpe seemed to consider himself 
 called upon to apologize. Did you know Charlie 
 Thorpe ? He- is a student at the University. I'm 
 sure I hope he'll learn something before he gradu- 
 ates ; he is a perfect goose now. 
 
 " He reaUy doesn't know any better," he said, 
 referring to Mr. Eomaine. ". He is only a me- 
 chanic, you know." 
 
 . -'Better than what?" I asked, profoundly as- 
 tonished. 
 
 " Why, than to address you in the manner he 
 did a few minutes ago." 
 
 " But I thought he asked a perfectly civil ques- 
 tion, in a perfectly re^spectful manner." 
 
 " I am glad you are pleased to judge him so 
 
16 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 leniently," Charlie said. " But tlie fact is, that 
 class of people obtrude their ideas in a very of- 
 fensive manner, sometimes." 
 
 I am not given to "wasting much talk on Charlie 
 Thorpe, but on this particular occasion I seemed 
 to be just in the mood to enjoy him. So I said : 
 
 " What class of people ? " 
 
 He got out his hem-stitched, rose-perfumed 
 handkerchief, and shook it. Then he said : 
 
 " Why, the working people ; the lower classes, 
 or whatever name you are pleased to call them." 
 
 Now, Perry, you know that, whatever may be 
 my besetting sins, hypocrisy is not among them. 
 So I said, very curtly : 
 
 " I don't know how to class people. If you are 
 good at it, won't you give me my grade in society ? 
 My father is a shoemaker by trade, with a large 
 family to support. My aunt, Ruth Brocton, keeps 
 boarders for a living, and I, being her oldest 
 niece, have the privilege of coming here and 
 going to school, provided I will work enough out 
 of school hours to pay for my board. Among 
 other things that I do, I make your bed and put 
 your room in order. To which class do I belong, 
 Mr. Thorpe ? " 
 
 I know he was astonished, and I think he was 
 mortified, and that was all the good it did me, I 
 suppose. Aunt Ruth says I was a goose ; that I 
 am not called on to reveal my poverty andhouse- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 17 
 
 work to shallow-brained people, who will judge 
 of my character and claim to respectabihty, even, 
 by that rule. But I am not certain that I care 
 how shallow-brained people look upon me, and I 
 like to be myself, anyhow. What do you say, 
 oh, most immaculate and orthodox Perry Har- 
 rison, with your sixty thousand a year, or some- 
 thing like it ? Assuredly you do not belong to 
 the working people (at least not now, when you 
 lie in bed until noon waiting for a daisy to bring 
 you coffee and theology), nor to the lower classes, 
 allowing Charlie Thorpe to be the judge. In 
 just what way shall we deal with addle-headed 
 people who say words at us ? 
 
 How- does that Daisy of yours treat people 
 whom she doesn't like, and can't like ; who have 
 not enough material in the region of their brains 
 to suggest a lildng ? Or is she one of those gentle 
 angels who like everybody ? I wish I were. 
 
 Are you really getting better ? Your hour for 
 rising doesn't suggest very marked improvement, 
 when one remembers you used to cheat even the 
 sun himself into the belief that he had risen. 
 
 I am- very sorry for your disappointment about 
 the European tour. I quite looked forward to 
 the pleasure of receiving foreign letters. I have 
 as much expectation — ^rather more — of going up 
 in a balloon as I have of going to Europe. All 
 my laiowledge of that fashionable locality must 
 
18 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 be secTired by second-hand means, and I fancied 
 yon might be a good medium of communication. 
 There is no telling, however. An unaccountable 
 stupidity seems to come over European travelers 
 the moment they get a pen into their hands — a 
 sort of nightmare of dullness. Perhaps yoii would 
 have been seized with it. I wish I could take a 
 journey, if it were only to Brooklyn, just to see 
 if I couldn't give a better description of it than 
 people do. I shall always regret that Aunt Ruth 
 insisted on economizing time in a sleeping-car, in 
 our journey from Nassau to New York. I dare 
 say I might have seen something to describe. I'm 
 pretty well acqiiainted with the formula, for aU 
 travelers talk about alike. 
 
 Annie Ames is writmg a book, or a sermon, or 
 sometliing ; she scribbles half the night. What 
 if I should write a book, siace I can't take a jour- 
 ney ! Could you give me a title ? I wonder 
 where Mrs. Stowe got her last one. Have you 
 read the book ? Ask your Daisy what she thinks 
 of it. 
 
 I heard Mr. Parks preach, last Sunday. Perry, 
 how did it happen that you never went to hear 
 him ? I wish I could go again ; it was the best 
 going to church I ever had. The singing ! oh, 
 the singing ! I wish I could make you hear it. I 
 told Mr. Piomaine, in the evening, that I didn't 
 particularly envy the angels, nor care about sing- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 19 
 
 ing with them, as long as I could have such a 
 good substitute as the two thousand voices in 
 that church. What do you suppose his answer 
 was ? He excels in quotation. He said, in ex- 
 actly the tone in which one would wish to hear 
 those words quoted : " And the number of them 
 was tfen thousand times ten thousand, and thou- 
 sands of thousands." I confess to you that the 
 thought of that great company thrilled me won- 
 derfully. I thought more about heaven for the 
 next quarter of an hour than I ever did in my 
 life before. The " art of putting things," says 
 somebody (the " Country Parson," isn't it?) is a 
 great art. I think Mr. Eomaine has it. 
 
 I didn't mean to write you such a long letter. 
 It is longer than yours ; and you being a gentle- 
 man of leisure ought to do the most of the letter 
 writing. 
 
 I don't believe they will get so very far ahead 
 of you at the University ; the students don't ap- 
 pear to me to be studying very hard. Tliink, for 
 instance, of Charlie Thorpe getting ahead of you! 
 I wouldn't make myself sick worrying about it. 
 I tliink your Daisy gave excellent advice. I am 
 interested in her. Tell me some more about her. 
 Isn't your Aunt Phebe a character ? or isn't she 
 the one that your mother used to tell us about ? 
 If she is she would do to make a book of. 
 
 I met Dr. Mason the other day, and he inquired 
 very particularly after your health. 
 
20 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 " Let me see," said he, " Harrison is your 
 brotiier, isn't he ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," I said, very meekly. 
 
 " So I thought. "Well, how is your mother, 
 now ? " 
 
 " She is very well, sir." 
 
 He looked hard at me. 
 
 " Doesn't she have the rheumatism any more ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; she never had it." Then all in a 
 giggle over his mystified looks, I said : 
 
 " You are thinking of Mr. Harrison's mother, I 
 suppose. He is my adopted brother." 
 
 " Oh ! " he said, and pushed his glasses up on 
 his forehead and walked on, to consider it. 
 
 Where do you suppose I met him ? At the 
 door of the Fulton Street prayer-meeting! I 
 stood at the corner, irresolute which way to turn, 
 when Mr. Romaine came up, from the other side. 
 
 " On your way home ? " he asked. 
 
 " On my way to a decision," I said. " I'm un- 
 certain what to do with the nest half hour. I've 
 been delayed at school, and it is too far to go 
 home, and stupid to stand here." 
 
 " I'm going to a very pleasant place to spend a 
 half hour," he said, courteously, " quite near at 
 hand. If you have the time, perhaps you would 
 like me to show you the way." 
 
 The place proved to be the Fulton Street 
 prayer-meeting. Remembering father's eager in- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 21 
 
 terest in the meeting, and his fondness for hear- 
 ing about it, I decided at once to go, and give 
 him an account of it. So there was where I met 
 Dr. Mason. Did you know he attended prayer- 
 meetings ? I wrote father a very full account of 
 the meeting, and in his answer was inclosed a slip 
 of paper, which he said he wanted me to take, 
 the next time I attended, and send it up to the 
 table to be read. I'll copy the contents of the 
 bit of paper for you ; it was in father's hand- 
 writing ? 
 
 " Prayers are requested for my dear daughter, 
 who is away from home and in the midst of many 
 temptations. I pray daily that she may give her- 
 self to Jesus. I ask you to join me in this pe- 
 tition, lly daughter sometimes attends your 
 meetings. Pray that God's spirit may find her 
 there. (Signed,) 'As Anxious Fathee." 
 
 This is exactly like my father. He is as queer 
 in his way as Mr. Romaine is in his. The next 
 time I attend the Fulton Street prayer-meeting I 
 shall send up that note ! "When do you imagine 
 that will be ? Perhaps I would better write a 
 request for you. Do you feel the need of some 
 help of that kind ? If you would like any assist- 
 ance from me, I shall be happy to give it. 
 
 Do you know whether your friend Eleanor has 
 any acquaintance with Mr. Romaine? I tliink 
 he knows her. I was speaking of her projected 
 
22 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 tour in Europe, and he asked me if slie belonged 
 to the Haddingtons, of PMladelpliia. What can 
 a mechanic know about the Philadelphia Had- 
 dingtons ? 
 
 I wish you were here to give me a little help in 
 my Latin. The house is full of Uniyersity stu- 
 dents, but I don't feel inclined to ask their as- 
 sistance. I don't know any of them very well, 
 except Charlie Thorpe, and I'm sure I know more 
 about Latin than he does. 
 
 Don't wait as long as- 1 did before answering ; 
 you have more leisure than I — no beds to make 
 nor rooms to. sweep. I must go this minute. 
 
 Your sister, Eu2<riCE. 
 
Redwood, Feb. 18. 
 My Dear Eunice : 
 
 Yesterday was the stormiest day of this season. 
 All Saturday afternoon the snow fell softly and 
 sUently, yet very swiftly, so that, before dark, 
 the fence-posts wore white caps rising like a Nor- 
 mandy bonnet; the fence-boards, and every 
 branch and twig, had their line of white above, 
 and the roofe of the houses and the chimney-tops 
 aU bore their burden of soft, white snow. Look- 
 ing out. Aunt Phebe remarked : " It won't last 
 long ; snow always melts away quickly when it 
 sticlcs to the trees." 
 
 But, even as she spoke, a, fierce gust shook the 
 tail lUac-tree before the window, swaying it back 
 and forth, and leaving it bare and brown. And 
 when Uncle Nathan came in to supper, he said, as 
 he stamped and swept off the snow : " Shouldn't 
 a bit wonder if we had a regular nor'wester 
 after aU." 
 
 Sure enough ! before nine o'clock it blew a 
 perfect tornado ; shutters banged and doors 
 creaked, and, aU night long, the branches of a 
 
 23 
 
24 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 locust-tree rubbed against my window with a 
 barsb, grating noise, that miglit have disturbed a 
 person of weak nerves. Of course I didn't mind 
 it ! Yesterday morning, when I looked out, there 
 was such a mass of snow in the air that the house 
 across the way could not be seen, and the tem- 
 pest kept iip all day. Of course there was no 
 church-going. Uncle, who is the soul of regu- 
 larity and promptness, was kept at home from 
 church — ^he says for the first time in five years. 
 Margaretta says he is always there, and always 
 early — so early and so regular that Mr. Pinck- 
 ney, who lives half a mile below on the road to 
 the village, says that he never looks at the clock 
 Sunday mornings, but, when he sees Mr. Fuller 
 coming, he Icnows it is time to begin to get 
 ready for church ! 
 
 But what was I to do, with a stormy Sunday 
 on my hands, here in this out-of-the-way place ? 
 To be sure, I don't always go to church, under 
 more favorable circumstances, as when I am in 
 the city — or when it is pleasant out here — ^but 
 then it is a satisfaction to know that you could 
 go if you wanted to. Then, someway, it seemed 
 yesterday as if the storm would last forever, 
 shutting me off from my friends — except the few 
 I have here. 'At first I thought what a good 
 day to read ! but books, like the weather, were 
 never so dull. Even my beloved Emerson seemed 
 
From Different Standpoints. 25 
 
 strangely uninteresting, and I turned to Long- 
 fellow, feeling like a " forlorn and shipwrecked 
 brother." But mercy ! such a storm would wipe 
 out, cover up, sweep away smj footprints left for 
 another's comfort or encouragement. No, books 
 would not answer ; I wanted real, living compan- 
 ionship. Daisy was reading a sermon (one of 
 Beecher's, I presume) to her father and Aunt 
 Phebe. But printed sermons are rather worse 
 to listen to than spoken ones. Sermons need to 
 travel a shorter road from the heart of the 
 preacher to the souls of his hearers, to be effect- 
 ive. Then I essayed to write to you ; and, will 
 you believe it, I gave up that idea from consci- 
 entious scruples ! Whose ? They couldn't have 
 been mine, you say ? Well, I fancy such things 
 are handed down through the generations. I 
 think these belonged to Grandfather Fuller, and 
 I have just found out, since I came here, that he 
 bequeathed them to me. They wouldn't stand 
 much of a chance for an existence in the atmos- 
 phere of the life I have been leading, but out 
 here in their native air they grow and flourish. 
 What a queer old place this is, to be sure ! And 
 you want to hear more about Daisy and the rest ! 
 I don't know whether you mean Aunt Phebe or 
 Aunt Jane. They are both rather striking char- 
 acters, in their way, and my mother is given to 
 talking about both of them — ^in a very different 
 
26 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 key, however, Grandmother Fuller died years 
 ago, leaving a large family, of whom Aunt Phehe 
 was the eldest, and my mother the youngest. 
 She (Aunt Phebe) brought them all up, helping 
 to find matches for them, and saw them all mar- 
 ried off. Besides the six or seven of her own 
 brothers and sisters, she has had, at different 
 times, the training of half a dozen rdeces and 
 nephews, and two other orphans. Just now she 
 has me in hand, and she thinks her last under- 
 taking the least promising. She has always lived 
 here at the homestead, and, when Margaretta's 
 mother died, uncle came back, and they have 
 lived together ever since — that was when Daisy 
 was a little girl. She says she remembers no 
 other home, and no other mother. What a work 
 that one woman has done ! And, as Daisy said 
 the other day, "Not one of them has turned out 
 badly — unless," she added, laughing, "it is I." I 
 remarked once to the old lady : " It is queer, 
 Auntie, that you never married." " Lawful 
 heart, child," she responded, " I never had time 
 to think of such a thing ! I was only just fifteen 
 when mother died, and I have had my hands full 
 ever since. And now don't you think Daisy 
 here is trying to coax me into taking another 
 child to bring up ! I think it is about time I 
 took a little rest." But she doesn't think any 
 such thing. She will always be doiug something 
 
From Different Standpoints. 27 
 
 for somebody, until her hand refuses to do her 
 bidding. Aunt Jane, or, Mrs. Morris Fuller, as 
 she wishes to be called, is Uncle Morris' wife, 
 and she lives just across the way. She has never 
 done anything for anybody that I can find out. 
 I beg the lady's pardon, she sent me a mince-pie 
 the other day — ^but I like lots of raisins in my 
 mince-pies. She has taken to patronizing me. 
 Wherefore? Because I am Wadsworth Harri- 
 son's son, and my Uncle Carlos left me fifty thou- 
 sand dollars'; and, furthermore, I am a university 
 student. ' She honors me with the distinctive 
 title, " My husband's nephew," and has invited 
 me to tea — a great honor, I am told — and got 
 out her silver service for the occasion. There is 
 a story about that service, or connected with it, 
 that I must teE you. (No matter how I heard of 
 it.) ■ Two years ago Aunt Jane said : " I am 
 going to take the money I got for boarding those 
 railroad hands and get a tea-set. I nevfer can 
 have any company until I do get one." 
 
 " Lawful heart ! " said Aunt Phebci " we have 
 lots of company, and never had a silver tea-set ; " 
 and Aunt Jane returned : 
 
 " Yes, I know ; common kind of company ; but 
 the people that I should invite are just the ones 
 that I can't ask until I get new silver." 
 
 So she went to the city and bought the things, 
 and that summer she had the Pendletons and the 
 
28 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 Warrens to spend a fortniglit. Then because 
 old Mr. V/arren took a fancy to Daisy, Aunt 
 Jane took to patronizing her, but she manceuvxed 
 sharply to keep them from coming in contact 
 with Aunt Phebe. I presume she feared that the 
 honest soul would expose some of her weak 
 points, and without doubt her fears were well- 
 grounded. 
 
 Aunt Phebe is one of those persons who, hav- 
 ing nothing to conceal for themselves, can not 
 understand other people's necessities for subter- 
 fuges. 
 
 But it seems that demure little Daisy had her 
 plans, and one morning she walked into Mrs. 
 Morris Fuller's brealcfast parlor whUe the party 
 were lingering over their coffee, and invited them 
 all over to the homestead to tea ! Aunt Jane 
 was thunder-struck, but recoveruig at once she 
 said: 
 
 " I'm sorry, Margaretta, but we were going to 
 drive to the lake, to-day. I was jiist going to 
 send over to teU you to be ready at one." 
 
 " Never mind the lake," broke in old Mr. War- 
 ren, "we'll give up all the lakes in North 
 America for the sake of taking a cup of tea from 
 Daisy's hand at the Fuller homestead." 
 
 And Daisy ran home to get ready for " com- 
 pany." Presently Aunt Jane followed : 
 
 " liow could you do such a thing ? " she began. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 29 
 
 " Why in the world didn't you consult me first ? 
 If I had suspected that you thought of such a 
 thing I'd have told you better." 
 
 " No doubt, Aunt Jane," laughed Daisy, " so I 
 didn't m&ntion it until I was all ready." 
 
 " But you have only that old-fashioned china 
 of your grandmother's ; what will they think ? I 
 declare it is too bad ! Your father is rich enough 
 to have tilings like other people. If I were you, 
 Margaretta, I'd make him get a set of silver." 
 
 I suspect that Daisy ■ gave those eggs a good 
 beating 1 She said : 
 
 " Won't jovL just tell me. Aunt Jane, who has 
 things the most like other folks — we with our 
 china and earthenware, like our neighbors, or you 
 with the only silver tea-set within tliree miles?" 
 
 " Oh, well, Daisy, you Icnow I don't mean 
 country people." 
 
 " But we are country people." 
 
 " Well, there is no reason why you should 
 spend your life digging away here, if you'd only 
 let me manage it. What in the world possessed 
 you to do this absurd thing ? " 
 
 Daisy's cheeks got a bright color upon them 
 just here, but she answered promptly to the last 
 remark : 
 
 " Because I thought father and Aunt Phebe 
 would enjoy a visit from Mr. Pendleton. You 
 know they were school-mates, and he used to come 
 
30 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 here and frolic in tliis same old kitchen. He told 
 me so ; and I am going to give him a chance at 
 some douglmuts, made after Grandmother Ful- 
 ler's rule, even if we haven't a silver tea-pot." 
 
 So they all came to tea, and liked -it so well 
 that they accepted Uncle Nathan's invitation to 
 " drop in any time," and there was always some- 
 hody " dropping in," and the next winter Daisy 
 was invited to the city for a whole month of teas ! 
 
 I said that old Mr. Warren took a fancy to her, 
 but there is also a young Mr. Warren, of whom 
 I hear biit very little, therefore, I draw my own 
 conclusions. 
 
 Your new boarder, Mr. Romaine, seems to have 
 introduced a new quality into the character of 
 the household. The religious element was rather 
 wanting. I mean the real sort, that people live 
 and use. I can tlunk of half a dozen amonfj 
 those I know there who are members of churches, 
 but you would never pick them out. I have a 
 profound respect for such men as your mechanic. 
 He evidently believes in his religion ; it is a re- 
 ality to him, whatever it may seem to me. 
 
 There is what they call a special interest in the 
 churches in the village here. The evangelist, 
 Rev. J. W. Briggs, is preaching every evening, 
 and afternoons too. It seems very strange to 
 hear of the people gathering from a circuit of 
 several mdes, evening after evening, coming to 
 
From Different Standpoints. 31 
 
 hear a person whom I take to be a very ordinary 
 sort of a man. Yet, perhaps, it is not so very 
 strange. People out here in the country have 
 very little in the way of evening entertainments. 
 I presume they are not critical as to the style and 
 profundity of the preacher. They get their 
 sleigh-ride, or their moonlight walk, all the same. 
 Yet here is Daisy, with a clear, keen sense of the 
 beautiful and the fitting capable of appreciating 
 the loftiest sentiments and the finest eloquence, 
 going steadily with her old father to spend hovu:s 
 in that dim, dingy, smoky old church ; listening 
 to an illiterate fanatic ; for such I am sure he 
 must be. I have not heard him. For once my 
 invahdism does me good service. 
 
 I very seldom go out evenings, and ought not 
 to do so at all during this severe weather. True, 
 I have broken over the rule two or three times 
 since I came here, but the circumstances were 
 quite exceptional. Aunt Phebe generally stays 
 at home, on account of her rheumatism, and we 
 two have long talks. I have learned much of the 
 history of our family (on the Fuller side), enough 
 to make a book ; but I shan't write one at pres- 
 ent. Don't you do it either, Eunice. Words in 
 books are such a time getting to the hearts of 
 people. To be sure they reach a great many in 
 the course of ages. But if one has really a burn- 
 ing message for the multitude it won't be so apt 
 
S2 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 to go out if they get it direct from the heart 
 through the lips. " But I'm a woman," you say. 
 Well, there have been women with messages be- 
 fore now. But I wish your book was AATitten. 
 I want it to read now. I am tired of everything 
 I ever heard of. 
 
 I wrote to Dr. Mason in regard to going to 
 Pliiladelphia for a week, or, if that was not ad- 
 visable, to New York. I thought that I might 
 arrange to meet Tom and Eleanor there for a few 
 days. But t received a speedy reply in the form 
 of a telegram : 
 
 " On no account. Perfect rest is indispensable 
 to complete recovery." 
 
 Indeed, I know very well that I ought not to 
 undertake the journey. I am really gaining, but 
 so slow that I get impatient. I shall appreciate 
 strength of limb and vigor of mind if I ever get 
 both back again. Eleanor feels hurt. Her last 
 letter reads almost like a reproach. She has 
 never realized how complete was my prostration, 
 and tills complete overturning of our plans is a 
 great trial to her. I have written to her that she 
 and her brother will be made very welcome here 
 if they see fit to come for a few days before they 
 sail. I confess I had almost hoped they might 
 change their plans and postpone their tour for a 
 few months. 
 
 I was going to remark, back there where 
 
From Different Standpoints. 33 
 
 I branched off, that I think I can explain Mr. 
 Eomaine's knowledge of the Haddingtons — if it 
 needs an explanation. I suppose you know that 
 " a cat may look at a king ; " and, for all I loiow, 
 he may have had to do with the stately mansion 
 she lives in. 
 
 Tell Miss Alice Perkins that she need not turn' 
 up her aristocratic nose at any man who does 
 good honest work, and Charlie Thorpe — oh, well, 
 arguments and advice are alike wasted upon such 
 as he. Biit it might be a consolation to Miss 
 Alice to know (seeing that she has to eat with 
 him) that the mechanic has often entertained Tom 
 Haddington and been entertained by him. Some 
 day I wiQ tell you the whole story. Now, it is 
 enough to say that through this Romaine Tom 
 Haddington, the aristocrat and the millionaire, 
 saved what is worth more than money or ances- 
 tral name — his manhood. I have never met liim, 
 but I know him to be a noble fellow. I think 
 there is no doubt of his identity with the gentle- 
 man you wrote about. I know considerable 
 about him. His family wanted him to become a 
 minister, but he seems to have thought that his 
 religion would fit a mechanic as well as a min- 
 ister. 
 
 The storm is over. I ought to have told you 
 that long ago. I have been two days writing 
 this letter, and the roads are now ia fair condi- 
 
34 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 tion ; so Daisy tells me ; and I have actuaUy 
 promised to go and hear that evangelist to-night. 
 That is off of the piece with your going tq Ful- 
 ton Street prayer-meeting ! 
 
 As ever your brother, Peeey. 
 
New Yoke, Feb. 18. 
 D&ar Perry : 
 
 What do you suppose Aunt Ruth said to me 
 this eveniag ? I mil give you a scene from oiu: 
 conversation. She sat at the round table, mak- 
 ing up her account of the day's expenses. I sat 
 biting the end of my wooden penholder. It was 
 not that I couldn't think what to say first to you, 
 but SQHiething in the book I had been reading 
 came fresh to my mind just then, and I stopped 
 to think it out. 
 
 "What are you doing?" Aunt Ruth asked, 
 suddenly, stopping in the midst of her column. 
 
 " Writing," I said, dipping my pen in ink, and 
 dating your letter. 
 
 " Who to ! " You know Aunt Ruth isn't re- 
 markably well posted as regards the arrangement 
 of sentences. 
 
 « To Perry." 
 
 " What do you and him write to each other 
 for?" 
 
 Did you ever happen to be asked that ques- 
 
 , 35 
 
36 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 tion? If you hare been, I -wonder what you 
 said. I'm sure I didn't know what to say. I 
 waited a little, but her keen, gray eyes were look- 
 ing right at me ; so I said : 
 
 " Why, for fun, I suppose ; what does any one 
 write letters to anybody for ? " 
 
 " Humph ! " she said. " You both pretend to 
 be a world too busy to waste hours of time and 
 quires of paper, just for fun. If you either of 
 you had any earthly object, it would be dififerent." 
 
 After Aunt Euth went back to her adding, 
 wliich by the way she does half audibly, so that 
 I can distinctly catch the last half of every figure 
 as it escapes her lips, I fell to thinking OTer her 
 question : What do we write letters for ? Do 
 you suppose these long epistles can ever be util- 
 ized in any way, either for your good or mine ; 
 or even for our harm, if they can't be made to 
 produce good fruit ? Dear me ! I believe I 
 would rather do mischief than do just nothing. 
 Of course, now, I enjoy your letters, and all that 
 sort of thing ; and I know you do mine. What 
 a mercy it is that we don't have to waste time in 
 being proper to each other. Well, never mind, 
 we'll find out in the millennium, probably, why 
 we enjoyed writing about every earthly thing to 
 each other. 
 
 We have had a rich experience to-day. I may 
 as well tell you that it was this over which I was 
 
From Different Standpoints. 37 
 
 biting my penholder. " To tell, or not to tell ; 
 that is the question." I decided to tell. I don't 
 believe it will trouble you ; in fact, I don't think 
 it will surprise you ; and it was so funny. To 
 commence ; your friend Eleanor is in town ; 
 dined with us to-day — ^that is she came to our din- 
 ner table as the guest of Laura Myers. Isn't 
 that a strange friendship ?. I wasn't introduced. 
 The comical side of that struck me, too. " If 
 Perry were here," I said to myself, " I wonder 
 just how he would manage that ? " After dinner 
 we were in the parlor. Laura was discoursing 
 with her usual sense. 
 
 " We have a very mixed table," I heard her 
 say. " Not half so pleasant as it used to be ; in 
 fact, we are becoming decidedly democratic." 
 
 Your Eleanor's beautiful lip curled (and, by 
 the way, you ought to tell her that the habit is 
 very unbecoming to her style of face). 
 
 " I detest the word ' democratic ! ' " she said, 
 scornfully. 
 
 " So do I," piped Laura. " But I think you 
 would detest it more if you lived here. The 
 house is even becoming the resort of day la- 
 borers." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " Yes. Did you ever know a man by the 
 name of Romaine ? " 
 
 " Not that I have any recollection of." 
 
38 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 " Well, he is a character. You ought to be 
 here one day, and see the air that he affects. He 
 is a mechanic of some sort ; goes to work at seven 
 o'clock, and isn't released until six; but you 
 would think he was king over us all. He really 
 is rather fine looking; but he does such funny 
 things. Don't you think he has prayers in this 
 very room every evening." 
 
 " Insufferable," said Miss Eleanor. " Plebeian- 
 ism of any kind is hard to endure ; but when it 
 comes to you with a religious whine, it is just 
 unbearable." 
 
 " There he is ! " was Miss Laura's next an- 
 nouncement. "Now, Eleanor, isn't he fine- 
 looking? " 
 
 We aU looked in Mr. Romaine's direction, and 
 I really wish you could have seen what a contrast 
 he presented to the foppish fellows about Mm. 
 
 "I suppose I shall have to introduce you," 
 Laura said, with a sigh. " They all do here." 
 
 Miss Eleanor was queenly. 
 
 " Thank you," she said, " I have no desire to 
 extend the circle of my acquaintance. You may 
 spare yourself that trouble." 
 
 I'm sure you must be wondering where I was 
 all this time, that I seemed to have the benefit of 
 this conversation, and yet be ignored. That is 
 it, precisely ; I was ignored. I stood just at their 
 back, looking over a Ust of paintings — a cata- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 39 
 
 logue, you know — and waiting for the mail to be 
 brought in, before I went up-stairs. On ordi- 
 nary occasions Laura is friendly enough with 
 me, but th6 presence of such an aristocrat as 
 Miss Haddington was too much for her. She did 
 not even glance in my direction. Presently I 
 moved a little to one side, but it seemed that I 
 was stm within range of their tongues. 
 
 " Who is that pale-faced young girl with an 
 unbecoming dress and a round collar? She 
 stands at your left." 
 
 I have to inform you, oh most trusting Perry, 
 that the hero of the unbecoming dress was your 
 friend Eunice. The dress is unbecoming, I 
 haven't a doubt. I have had it three winters, 
 and am likely to have it three more ; and roui^d 
 collars are out of fashion. 
 
 " That," said Laura, " is a niece of our land- 
 lady. She is a good sort of a girl ; goes to school, 
 and works for her board, or something of that 
 kind. It is just some more of our democracy, 
 you see." 
 
 " I see." You having heard the lady speak 
 several times in the course of your life, doubtless 
 know just how she said that "I see." 
 
 At that particular moment who should appear 
 in our midst but Tom Haddington ! I hadn't 
 seen him in six months ; didn't know he was in 
 town. You know what a fresh, genial air he 
 
40 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 used .to have. Well, he hasn't changed in the 
 least. He went the rounds of the room, aided 
 by Laura Myers, who had rushed forward to 
 greet him, meeting old friends and being intro- 
 duced to new ones, when, suddenly, he dropped 
 Laura's hand, and his clear, ringing voice sounded 
 through the room : 
 
 " Romaine ! as true as I am here," he said, and 
 he held his hand out eagerly. " Why, man, 
 where do you come from? I as soon expected 
 to see the President, and I would give more to 
 see your little finger at any time than his whole 
 body, much as I admire him." 
 
 All this time they were shaking hands in the 
 most eager way, and Laura, for once in her life, 
 losing sight of effect, stood looking on in open- 
 eyed amazement. 
 
 " Why, Romaine," Tom commenced again, 
 " have you seen my sister ? No ? She is here. 
 Where is she, Miss Laura ? Oh, there she is, and 
 you haven't met her ! That is an oversight ; 
 come right over here and let me introduce you. 
 Eleanor, this is the best friend I ever had or ever 
 expect to have, Mr. Romaine, of Pliiladelphia." 
 
 It must have been a transfer from the torrid 
 zone to the frigid zone, in the region of Mr. Ro- 
 maine's heart, to turn from Tom Haddington's 
 greeting to receive his sister's bow. I don't care 
 if she is your friend. Perry. I was provoked 
 
From Different Standpoints. 41 
 
 with her ; she might have been more courteous 
 to her brother than to ignore his friend in the 
 way she did. I wonder what Tom would have 
 said, if he hadn't suddenly been thrown into 
 another surprise ? He spied me, and rushed to- 
 wards me, both hands extended. 
 
 " Why, Eunice," said he, " little Una, I thought 
 you had gone home. How splendid it is to see 
 you all here ! Have you met my sister ? " 
 
 Then, immediately, before I could answer his 
 question, he asked another. You know Tom 
 always used to ask at least two questions at once. 
 
 " Oh, Eunice ! " he said, " seeing you makes 
 me think ,of Perry. Have you heard from him 
 lately ? " 
 
 I stood near your lady, and I felt wicked, so I 
 answered, promptly : 
 
 '• I had a letter last evening ; he is improving, 
 though he seems to think rather slowly. He is 
 impatient, as usual." 
 
 At that point I had the satisfaction of a full 
 view of Miss Eleanor's face, and she gave me a 
 prolonged and astonished stare. She had evi- 
 dently heard of me before. I made another dis- 
 covery, which is that Miss Haddington doesn't 
 care to he absolutely rude to a friend of Perry 
 Harrison. So, my friend, thank you for conde- 
 scending to be known as my friend. It earned 
 me a gracious reception, even though I did wear 
 an imbecoming dress. 
 
42 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 Now, why have I told you this long story? I 
 hardly know myself, except because of the fool- 
 ish habit of telling you all that happens in this 
 house. I wish I were one of the good young la- 
 dies that one reads about in books, then I should 
 have locked tliis story into the secret chamber of 
 my own great heart, and borne my share of wrong 
 in noble silence. Isn't that the way they do it ? 
 
 This isn't answering your letter, is it ? Well, 
 there were two points in it that amused me. 
 One was the idea of your being conscientious ! 
 I never suspected it ! How does it make you 
 feel ? The other, the idea of your going to hear 
 that country preacher ! Truly, Perry, I thoiTght 
 you had more respect for yoiir mother and your 
 early education than to actually make hght of 
 preaching of any sort. It would have served you 
 right to have caught another horrid cold ; but I 
 don't suppose you did ; wicked people never get 
 their deserts in this wicked world. However, 
 since you will do wrong, give me the benefit of 
 your experience. 
 
 What do you suppose I've done next ? Gone 
 into the Sunday-school and taken a class of little 
 savages under my care ! What on earth will I 
 teach them! There are five of them — boys — 
 with bare feet, or nearly so, even in this weather, 
 and such hands ! I don't thmk the idea of wash- 
 ing them can have entered their minds in a cen- 
 
I'rom Different Standpoints. 43 
 
 tury. I presume you think they are not a cen- 
 tury old ; but in that you are mistaken ; I'm sure 
 they must have been created when the world 
 was ; they know all the evil in it, and there is so 
 much that it must have taken some time to learn. 
 Of course Mr. Romaine is the individual who 
 had to do with my being so foolish. He was iia 
 great perplexity as to what he should do with 
 them. Aunt Ruth came to his help. 
 
 " Why, here is Eunice ; why don't you get her 
 into it ? She taught a day-school in Nassau, and 
 managed first-rate, my brother said." 
 
 I laughed, of course. 
 
 " Why, Aunt Ruth I " I said. " I don't know 
 what has become of your usual good sense. The 
 idea of my being a Sabbath-school teacher ! " 
 
 "Why not, child. It is a pity if you can't 
 teach them to say their Bible verses. It can't 
 be harder than staying in a little old school- 
 house with them aU day, and you lived through 
 that." 
 
 " But, Aunt Ruth," I said, " you know I had 
 the amusement of whipping them to sustain my 
 spirits, and I'm afraid that wouldn't look well in 
 Sunday-school." 
 
 Meantime Mr. Romaine had evidently been 
 considering. I'm not sure that he had heard a 
 word that either of us had said, after Aunt Ruth's 
 first sentence. He spoke ■ at last, in a sort of 
 doubtful tone : 
 
44 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 " If you could manage them for me for one or 
 two Sundays, until I could look around me, 
 and—" 
 
 " Do better," I said, finishing the sentence, as 
 he seemed to hesitate. And the truth is. Perry, 
 I was piqued into taking it, because he evidently 
 thought I couldn't do anything with them. 
 
 I Avish I had time to tell you what a funny 
 time I had with them last Sunday. That was 
 my first attempt. I should have resigned all fu- 
 ture care of them the minute I reached home, 
 only Charhe Thorpe spoiled that hy advising me 
 to. I am resolved not to act on any idea that 
 emanates from his brain. 
 
 This letter is to go by the next mail, and that 
 closes in ten minutes. In my next I'll try to 
 answer some of your remarks. 
 
 In haste, Eunice. 
 
Dear Una : 
 
 Your letter amused me considerably, the more 
 as I had one from Eleanor by the same mail, in 
 which she spoke of spending the day with Laura 
 Myers, and of meeting my little friend Una, 
 whom she pronounced " a very nice little girl." 
 Now, I wish I could see your face as you read 
 that ! You would rather be called proud, 
 haughty, disagreeable, almost anything else. 
 "Well, Miss Eleanor might not enjoy some things 
 you said about her. But I venture the predic- 
 tion that you will yet be fast friends, and I fancy 
 that you might be very helpful to each other 
 were you to be thrown much together. Wasn't 
 it too bad that I wasn't there with you all ! Yet 
 I laughed when I thought what an incongruous 
 set you were. Laura Myers and Alice Perkins, 
 Eleanor and Eunice, Tom Haddington, Mr. Ro- 
 maine and Charlie Thorpe ! You didn't mention 
 Charlie, but I suppose he was hovering about, as 
 usual. Be careful, Una ; the fellow has a heart. 
 
 I am looking forward with considerable cer- 
 
 45 
 
46 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 tainty to a visit from Eleanor and Tom before 
 they sail. I have not been quite so well for a 
 week or two. The fact is, I have left off the 
 bourbon which Dr. -Mason ordered, and I find 
 that my strength was, to a great extent, a fiction, 
 gotten up from day to day by means of that same 
 bourbon. It was a sentence or two in one of 
 your letters awhile ago, with two or three more 
 in one of Tom Haddington's, that led me to give 
 it up. So you see you and Tom are in part res- 
 ponsible for my weakness and dullness. 
 
 It is fearfully dull out^ here. Dr. Mason 
 knew what he was about when he sent me 
 out here for quiet. Sometimes the stillness 
 is so heavy that I can scarcely endure the bur- 
 den. Yet I know that if I were in New York I 
 should either break over the doctor's orders or die 
 of a restless longing to get out. piere there is no 
 special temptation to disobey. To be sure there 
 is sleigh-riding, but the few times 'I have ven- 
 tured out Aunt Phebe (in league wit^: Dr. Ma- 
 son, I suspect) insisted upon muffling me' 16 the 
 eyes, and so loading me with wraps that I oojild 
 scarcely walk, and then burying me in cushions 
 and buffalo-skins. Thus trammeled, with Uncle 
 Nathan for driver, and sober old Billy jogging 
 along, sleigh-riding became a tame affair — there 
 is nothing exhilarating about it — and I sigh for 
 the strength to hold and guide my own fiery Sir 
 
From Different Standpoints. 47 
 
 "Walter. Well, it is like anything else. Life 
 bids fair to become a sober, jogging sort of an 
 affair after all. I look at Uncle Nathan and at 
 Uncle John, and wonder if I shall finally settle 
 down to their sort of life; and then' I look at 
 Aunt Phebe and the rest of the sewing-society 
 ladies, and think of you and Eleanor, wondering 
 if these, too, had th^l. ambitious dreams "and 
 plans away back in oth^fer .'days. There is just 
 one word that expresses AMife which these peo- 
 ple live — humdrum. I hope my expected visitors 
 will bring some life and ene]^y';fipom the outside 
 world into this lonesome retreat. If somebody 
 would only come in with a rUshvand^a wliir, and 
 upset the quiet and order of this 'iFell-regulated 
 community, what a relief it would be J ■ 
 
 It is a fact, I am growing rebellious, I' am gick 
 of staying here. 1 want to be at work. ' I can 
 not afford to waste so much time. I «ij^s*1g9t 
 well. I told Daisy so this morning, and - She 
 laughed a little. " But if you caiCt" she said. 
 
 That's '\t— fettered. Now, think of it, Una. I 
 mean't to graduate in July ; go to Europe for a, 
 year or two ; come back and — make a marlt. 
 Here I am, put back a whole year at the very 
 best. 
 
 Do you remember (of course you do) the time 
 I left Nassau for Williston, six years ago ? And 
 the talk we had abdut my future ? How eager I 
 
48 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 was for the struggle — the struggle for an educar 
 tion with limited means? Do you remember 
 how grandly I had chosen between " wealth and 
 culture," in declining the fine position which was 
 offered me in New York, and choosing to work 
 my way up the ladder, standing then upon one 
 of the lower rounds, a graduate of the country 
 district school ? How proud I was of sweeping 
 the halls and ringing the bells that first half year 
 at Williston ! Don't laugh, please ; but I used 
 to imagine what I would say if anybody sJiould 
 snub me (which never happened) because of my 
 poverty and my menial occupations. I would 
 whisper to myself, " Now, Perry Harrison, don't 
 you mind ; some day you will stand head and 
 shoulders above these fellows." Of course I was 
 silly ; but I think I really enjoyed being poor — 
 the thought of being " a self-inade man " was in- 
 spiring — and I think I was really a little bit sorry 
 that Uncle Chester left me that sixty thousand 
 dollars, because it spoiled my plans. But I con- 
 fess to you that I have grown to think that 
 " sixty thousand " dollars is a very handy thing 
 to have. With the means to carry them out, my 
 plans became broader, and my ambitious ardor 
 
 increased. No need to tell you of my schemes 
 
 and some of them were so lofty that they might 
 look ludicrous on paper. 
 Well, here I am ! This room is exactly sixteen 
 
From Different Standpoints. 49 
 
 feet square. I have strength to walk across it. 
 I can look down the road and across the fields 
 about a quarter of a mile. I can read, in limited 
 quantities, a sort of light stuff called literature, 
 and write gossipy letters. Whether or not this 
 is the end I am unable to say. Daisy says — I'll 
 tell you what / said first. My head ached. I 
 threw down my book and looked over to the 
 window where she sat, with a magazine, which 
 she laid down as my book banged against the ot- 
 toman wliich obstructed its passage across the 
 room. She smiled at my petulance, and I said, 
 bitterly — ^no, I will not repeat the words I used, 
 but I cursed the fate that keeps me here a pris- 
 oner, and she replied : 
 
 " Cousin Perry, it hurts me to hear you speak 
 in that way of your best Friend. If you would 
 only be willing to trust your future with Him — " 
 
 " Trust my future ! If I am to judge of what 
 your loving God will do in the future by the 
 present, I might as well give up the sliip first as 
 last. Look at it now, and tell me if you call it 
 love. I have worked hard, and I think fairly 
 earned success. My prospects for carrying off 
 University honors were at least fair, and then 
 I should have been ready to use the advantages 
 I had gained — gained, too, by hard, honest work 
 — gained in spite of the hindrance of wealth — 
 and here I am with, I must own, very little pros- 
 
50 J^rom Different Standpoints, 
 
 pect of regaining my strength. Daisy, I feel 
 tliat I have a right to life — a right to an oppor- 
 tunity to use my gifts. I have earned the right, 
 and I do say that I can not feel that it is a just 
 God that has set me aside at this point. It seems 
 all VTTong and cruel — so cruel." 
 
 " Don't FexTj— don't." 
 
 Daisy's voice was full of sorrow, and I knew 
 that I had pained her. I, conceited fellow that 
 I was, fancied that it was sorrow for me — for my 
 disappointment — and sympathy with my restless ■ 
 longing, and I was surprised at the vehemence 
 with which she continued : 
 
 " Perry Harrison, I can not let you speak so 
 of our Lord. I will not hear it. It is shocking ! 
 You can not know what you are saying. God 
 cruel ! I tell you it is not so. He is kind and 
 loving, even when he sends things that hurts us. 
 And as for your sickness, didn't you tell me the 
 other day that it was your own fault — ^that you 
 overworked ? "What's the use in blaming God 
 for that ? I wont hear it, I tell you ; and don't 
 you ever speak that way to me again." 
 
 I laughed a little — I could not help it. In her 
 excitement she had crossed the room and stood 
 by my chair, and she looked at me almost scorn- 
 fully. I said : 
 
 " Well, little Margaretta, wait until your kind 
 and loving Friend thwarts some of your plans, 
 then tell me if you don't rebel." 
 
I'rom Different Standpoints. 51 
 
 " Perry," slie said, while a sudden pallor came 
 oyer lier face, " you don't know what you are 
 talking about." 
 
 Then she went away. I wonder what sorrow 
 has shadowed her life so early, for there is a 
 shadow. There was a whole book of revelation 
 in that white face. Why does God make the 
 gift a burden ? A year ago I might have thanked 
 him for life ; but just now it does not seem much 
 of a gift to be grateful for. I am almost sorry 
 that Eleanor is coming. To see her radiant in 
 health and beauty, and Tom overflowing with 
 strength and energy, will scarcely improve my 
 spirits and temper. 
 
 Later. — And now don't you think good old 
 Aimt Phebe wants to take away one of my few 
 remaining blessings ! She came up to-night, 
 after the rest had gone to prayer-meeting, as she 
 usually does, to sit awhile with me. I was writ- 
 ing when she came, and as I laid down my pen, 
 she said : 
 
 " Which one are you going to make read all 
 that ? " 
 
 " Oh, Eunice is the only person in the world to 
 whom I should dare send such a long letter," I 
 said, laughing. " Her patience is equal to any- 
 thing in that line," I added. 
 
 " Well," said Aunt Phebe, with a long sigh, 
 * " I suppose you know what you are about ; but 
 
52 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 it don't seem just right to be writing sucli long 
 letters to one girl when you are going to marry" 
 another." 
 
 " Why, Auntie, Una and I have always been 
 just like brother and sister. I write to her as I 
 would to an own sister. Besides, there does not 
 seem to be much prospect of my marrying anybody 
 very soon." 
 
 " Well, well ; I suppose you know what you 
 are about," repeated the old lady. " But, my 
 boy, I can tell you one thing — there'll be a heart- 
 ache somewhere before you're done." 
 
 " Oh, no, Auntie. How can that be, when 
 there is such a fair understanding all around? " 
 
 " Well, you'll find out ; then you'll remember 
 what an old woman told you." Then she added, 
 with more energy : " I know — I've seen' it." 
 
 Poor Auntie ! She is giving herself unneces- 
 sary trouble about us, isn't she ? I wonder what 
 she meant; could it be Daisy? And is that 
 some way the secret of the shadow which I fancy 
 I have discerned ? 
 
 I suspect that Daisy told of our talk tliis after- 
 noon ; for, as Aunt Phebe was rolling up her 
 knitting-work, she said : 
 
 " Perry, when j-ou look out in the morning, I 
 want you to remember that over there, under 
 that sheet of snow, there is a field of wheat, and 
 remember that ' Bread grows in the winter= 
 night.' " 
 
l^rom Different Standpoints. 53 
 
 May 15. — Two months since I wrote the last 
 line ! And even now Dr. Mason's orders are 
 imperative — not a line to be written or a sentence 
 read ! But what is the use of obeying ? I may 
 as well use up the little strength I have in this 
 way, if I am never to have any for work that 
 would amount to something. And that is just 
 what they say — narrowed down, stripped of all 
 qualifications, all consoling and mitigating (but 
 unmeaning) words, the verdict reached is this : 
 I may live ! Oh, yes — ^live, breathe, exist for 
 years ! But as for ever getting strong enough to 
 bear my part in the world's strife 
 
 Una, do you call this justice ! 
 
 Pebet. 
 
[as ■weittbn ts Eunice's jotjbnal.J 
 
 We have had a busy "week, and, such a strange 
 one ! Smprising events followed each other so 
 rapidly. In the first place, came that telegram. 
 I believe I shall always shudder when I see a 
 telegram after this. Mine was so short and so 
 full : " Perry Harrison is dying. Come." How 
 the room whirled, and how very strange it seemed 
 to be up in the air and falling, with no solid 
 place on which to fall. They say fainting is like 
 that ; if it is, I don't want to faint. I didn't 
 faint quite, either, I felt that there was no time 
 to lose in that useless way. I gathered my 
 strength and went downstairs ; went in search of 
 Aunt Ruth, and said, spealdng as calmly as I 
 could: 
 
 " Aunt Ruth, I have got to go to Redwood." 
 She faced about on me, spectacles and all. She 
 was looking over fruit, and she always wears 
 spectacles during such work, and rarely at other 
 times : so that makes her look more strange. I 
 remember that even then I thought of the queer 
 
 54 
 
From Different Standpoints. 65 
 
 look it gave her eyes, and remembered that my 
 eyes were said to be like hers, and wondered if 
 mine would look like hers when I wore glasses. 
 And all the time I knew, for I said it over to 
 myself, that awful sentence : " Perry Harrison is 
 dying!" 
 
 " To Redwood ! " she said, drawing out the 
 letters untU each made a line. " Where on earth 
 is that?" 
 
 " It is in Vermont, on the Vermont and Some- 
 thing Else Railroad. I don't remember just 
 where it is, but I have got to go." 
 
 By this time Aunt Ruth seemed to have an 
 idea that something was amiss. She took up her 
 bowl from the chair before her, and pushed the 
 chair toward me with her foot, as she said : 
 
 " Sit down, child ; you look like a sheet. What 
 on earth is the matter ? " 
 
 I didn't sit down. I had a dim idea that if I 
 should, the chair would go sinking down to that 
 bottomless abyss that seemed whirling around 
 me. But I answered, promptly : 
 
 " Perry is sick — Perry Harrison. You remem- 
 ber him ? He is dying, the telegram says ; and 
 I want to start at once." 
 
 My Aunt Ruth froze into propriety in an in- 
 stant. 
 
 " What an idea ! " she said, in her most aston- 
 ished tones. " As if you could go out there to 
 
56 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 see a young man who is no kind of kith or kin, 
 even if he is sick." 
 
 How cold and horrible the words sounded. 
 
 "Why, Aunt Ruth," I said, speaking in a 
 tremor of haste and pain, " he has been just like 
 my brother all my life. He is just as dear to me 
 as if he were my brother." 
 
 " Sho ! " Aunt Ruth said, piling up the fruit 
 carefully in the dish before her. " Of all the 
 silly talk that girls get off, that is the silliest ! 
 "Being like your brother don't give you and him 
 the same name, and don't give you no kind of 
 right, in the eyes of lookers-on, to go tearing 
 around over the country after him. It ain't res- 
 pectable, you see." 
 
 "I don't care anything about lookers-on," I 
 said, hotly. " They may say and tliink exactly 
 what they like. I never did care for gossip, and 
 this is not the time to begin." 
 
 " I never saw one of them in my life that did." 
 Aunt Ruth said it as composedly as though I 
 was not at the very verge of endurance. " They 
 none of 'em care for gossip. They are above it 
 — ^in a higher sphere. It's a mercy that the 
 most of them have old, wise heads, with a little ' 
 common sense in them, to look after them, or 
 they would all go to destruction together. I teU 
 you what it is, child, even gossip ain't a thing to 
 be run over with a sniff, as if it wasn't any ac- 
 
From Different Standpoints, 'bl 
 
 count. As a rule, folks won't go at that work, 
 unless they have a kind of foundation to start 
 on." 
 
 For a moment I felt as though I must take up 
 that great yellow bowl she was heaping with 
 berries and hurl it at her head. How could she 
 be so exasperatingly cool and argumentative 
 when Perry was dying ? But my very anger had 
 a quieting effect upon my nerves. When they 
 get to a white heat, they are stiller, outwardly, 
 than while they are heating. 
 
 "Aunt Ruth," I said, and the sound of my 
 own voice surprised me, "I am going to Red- 
 wood by this afternoon's train. If you will help 
 me to get ready and go in a decent manner, I 
 wUl be glad ; and if you will not, I will run 
 away. I am going on the five o'clock train if I 
 Hve." 
 
 She suspended her horrible picking for two 
 minutes, and looked me full in the face. 
 
 "Is the child gone clean mad ? " she muttered. 
 And despair took hold of me ; for, really, I might 
 talk of running away, and all that sort of tiling, 
 but I knew that I should have to get Aunt 
 Ruth's permission, or stay at home. In the first 
 place, I had not a cent of money in the world ; 
 and in the second — no, it is not so ; I can honestly 
 put that reason first — I was my father's daughter, 
 I was placed by him in my aunt's care ; and not 
 
5^ From Different Standpoints. 
 
 even for you, Perry, could I go in direct oppo- 
 sition to her command. 
 
 " "What in tlie world do you think you can do 
 for him ? " she demanded. " If he is so very 
 sick, he may not live until you get there ; and if 
 he should, what is Perry Harrison to you ? " 
 
 I sat down, then, on the chair. I felt myself 
 falling. I did not say another word. Utter des- 
 olation got hold upon me. If I could have cried, 
 I should have been glad ; instead, I looked and 
 felt like a stone. 
 
 Aunt Ruth worked away at the fruit. At last 
 she said in a sharp, business tone, the one that 
 belongs to her city life and her boarding house : 
 
 "What time is it?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " What time did you say that train went? " 
 
 " At five o'clock." 
 
 " And here are all these berries to can, besides 
 the pies to see to for dinner. Well, what has to 
 be wUl be, I suppose. Get on your apron and 
 help me as fast as you can. If we've got to be 
 ready by five o'clock, we shall have to fly, that's 
 aU." 
 
 Now, it had never once occurred to me that 
 Aunt Ruth would think of such a thing as leav- 
 ing her home and her work to go with me. And 
 perhaps the perplexities that such a suggestion 
 started were just the thing for my wliirling brain ; 
 
From Different Standpoints. 69 
 
 at least it "was drawn away for a moment from 
 that awful sentence. 
 
 " Where can we go, Aunt Ruth ? " I said, tim- 
 idly. "Perry is not in a boarding-house, you 
 know. He is with his aunt." Whereupon my 
 aunt eyed me again, with bewildered eyes, over 
 her spectacles. 
 
 " I believe the chUd thinks I am going to 
 pounce right down upon hit©, as if I had come 
 for no other earthly purpose ! " she said ; and . 
 added, reflectively: "Well, well, girls are fools." 
 Then she deigned an explanation : " Why, we'll 
 go to my Aunt Mercy's on your father's side ; 
 she lives a mile out. They didn't have any such 
 high-sounding name as Redwood for it when I 
 went there — ^it was Stony HoUow; and for a 
 minute I forgot where that young fellow was. 
 I haven't seen Aunt Mercy for a hundred years, 
 more or less ; but that ain't her fault. She'll be 
 willing to see me, and if she ain't, there's no help 
 for it : for you say you've got to go ; and you al- 
 ways was headstrong. I s'pose you are attached 
 to him. Poor fellow, he comes of a consumptive 
 lot. But there's no use in making a goose of 
 yourself, iii my opinion. But we'll go, and no 
 more words about it ! " 
 
 After that sentence, I didn't know whether I 
 wanted most to throw my arms around Aunt 
 Ruth's neck and kiss her, or choke her. What I 
 
60 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 did, was to sit still and look over the berries. 
 Well, Journal, she certaioly managed that affair 
 in a remarkable manner. I was too much excited 
 to care then ; but I can see now that I will be 
 glad when I get home again. She remarked at 
 noon, when the boarders who lunch at home had 
 seated themselves, that they would have to be in- 
 convenienced a little she was afraid, as she could 
 not get Miss Hopper to superintend the house 
 until to-morrow ; and as she had made all her plans 
 to go on a Httle vacation, and take the afternoon 
 train, they would have to get along with what 
 the cook and waiters could do for them for one 
 day. They were aU polite, and thought every- 
 thing would be aU right, and hoped she would 
 have a pleasant time. Charlie Thorpe, of course, 
 asked some questions. Was she going alone ? 
 
 "No," Aunt Ruth said. She was going to 
 take Eunice with her. She had been promising 
 for ten years to visit Aunt Mercy ; and for half 
 that time she had been promising to bring me 
 with her ; but the right time had never seemed 
 to come untiL just that minute. Then Charlie 
 wanted to know if it was a long journey, and 
 whereabouts in Vermont it was, and wasn't that 
 the place where Perry Harrison had hidden him- 
 self. 
 
 " The very place," Aunt Euth said, " and the 
 poor fellow isn't so weU as he was, I hear. I am 
 
From Different Standpoints, 61 
 
 glad, on tliat account, that we are going just 
 now. Perhaps Eunice can cheer him up a little ; 
 they were children together, and have always 
 been playmates." 
 
 Just then I could have hugged Aunt Ruth. 
 How wise she was ! 
 
 Well, we came. The awful line of miles be- 
 tween us was bridged at last, and we were landed 
 at Aunt Mercy's door. Tins Aunt Mercy was a 
 woman of whom I had heard indeed ; but that 
 was about all. I hadn't an idea as to what Ave 
 were coming, and I didn't care. By that time I 
 had begun to have grsat faith in Aunt Ruth's 
 powers ; so, as we clambered into Jonas Stiles' 
 fruit-wagon, which was going right past Aunt 
 Mercy's place, I clutched her sleeve. 
 
 " Aunt Ruth, I must see Perry to-night, some 
 way ; I don't care how, only I must do it. To- 
 morrow may be too late." 
 
 Aunt Ruth's voice was sharp, even in under- 
 tone. 
 
 " You talk like a fool, child, if I must say so. 
 How can we possibly manage it to-night ? Pity's 
 sakes ! you ought at the very least to be going to 
 marry Mm, by the way you act." Then aloud, 
 she said : " Where is that young Harrison stop- 
 ping, who came out here for his health ? " 
 
 She seemed to know Vermont ways, and to re- 
 alize that Jonas Stiles would know all about him. 
 
62 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 " He lives in that farm-house yonder, just back 
 of where you are going to stop ; and I rather 
 guess he come for what he won't find. He has 
 been going on from bad to worse ever since he 
 got here. I heard tell, this morning, that he was 
 dying." 
 
 Oh, Journal, how eould I bear this much 
 longer ? I felt like screaming. I wanted to say. 
 Let me out ! I will go to liim this minute. I 
 did open my mouth to speak ; but Aunt Ruth 
 put a firm hand on my arm, a hand that someway 
 quieted me. 
 
 " I guess you may stop there with me, if he is 
 so bad as that," she said, quietly. " I used to 
 know his mother well, and I should like to see if 
 there was a turn of any kind I could do for the 
 poor boy." 
 
 The man agreed to it quietly enough. He was 
 too good-hearted to think it strange. 
 
 " Will I take the young woman on ? " he said, 
 loojdng inquiringly at me. 
 
 "Oh, no," Aunt Ruth said; "she may as well 
 wait for me. And " — ^no, he needn't wait ; oh, 
 not at all. If he would just set our trunk down 
 at Mrs. Spencer's door, and say that we had 
 stopped to inquire after a friend, we could easily 
 walk the little distance. Then she said to me, 
 as she watched him drive away : 
 
 " Now, I hope you are satisfied. For my part, 
 I feel like a fool." 
 
From Different Standpoints. 63 
 
 Wtat did I feel like ? I never can tell. 
 
 Our knock was answered by a young girl with 
 a fair, pure face. I knew in an instant that it 
 was Daisy. She took my hand and said, at once : 
 
 " Are you his friend Eunice ? " 
 
 "Yes," I said, and my voice was perfeclly 
 quiet. " How is he ? " 
 
 " He is living, and that is really all we can 
 say. I am glad you have come. He seems to 
 have been expecting you, for he asked twice if 
 the train was in. But there is one thing : you 
 must not go to him at aU, if you can not be per- 
 fectly quiet and controlled. The doctor says 
 that the slightest agitation might be fatal. And 
 there is another thing : he will ask you at once 
 whether you think he is going to die. The doc- 
 tor will not have him told. I think it is all 
 wrong, but I can not assume the responsibility ; 
 so I have to live a lie before him. And you 
 must reconcile it with your conscience, as best 
 you can, to do the same, or determine what to 
 do. Only I ought to tell you this : that the doc- 
 tor thinks that a knowledge of the hopelessness 
 of his condition would be sure to prove fatal." 
 
 " And yet you think it is all wrong not to tell 
 him. What a cousinly regard you must have for 
 him ! " 
 
 Yes, jny Journal, I said just that hard and 
 hateful thing to a lady whom I never saw before ; 
 
64 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 but she did not seem to hear it at all, or at least 
 to heed it; for which I was very grateful. I 
 mean I was afterward — I did not care then. 
 After Aunt Ruth's admirable planiung to have 
 everything appear natural and reasonable — 
 while she was talking earnestly with Daisy, as 
 she threw off her duster, showing her what old 
 and tried friends his mother and she used to be, 
 and how sorry she was for the poor boj- — one of 
 those unaccountable whirling fits came over me, 
 and for the first time in my life I fainted dead 
 away. The next time I actually knew anything 
 enough to remember it, I was lying in a sweet- 
 smelling country bed. Aunt Ruth stood beside 
 me. 
 
 " You are not to go near him to-night," she 
 said ; " and you needn't tliink it. You have had 
 your way all along ; it is time for me to have 
 mine. I have been up, and the doctor is there ; 
 and he says he is not to see a new face to-night, 
 nor be agitated in any way ; and he says there is 
 a mite of hope. And it's my opinion he isn't 
 going to die yet awhile ; he isn't, if I can help it. 
 I am going to take care of him to-night myself. 
 And you are to lie still and mind; or if you 
 don't, that doctor says you will have a run of 
 fever as sure as fate ; and that will make a pretty 
 mess." Saying which, she bustled away. 
 
 And there was I, who had traveled a day and 
 
From Different Standpoints. 65 
 
 a night in feverish haste ; who had neither eaten 
 a mouthful nor ' slept a wink since I heard the 
 news ; and had finally reached over a space of 
 three hundred miles, for the purpose of fainting 
 away and being put to bed in the room under 
 his, and having Daisy to nurse me ! It was well 
 such an experienced nurse as Aunt Euth had 
 come with me to take her place. When I did 
 finally see Perry, it was a strange meeting. He 
 was too weak to open his lips, and I was not al- 
 lowed to open mine ; so I could only hold his 
 hand for an instant and smile at him like an 
 idiot, and then rush away and cry like a boiling 
 volcano — all of wliich was of great benefit to 
 him ! He is better. You may be sure of that, 
 or I would not be going all over this to you. 
 
 We have been here two weeks. Aunt Ruth 
 talks of going home and leaving me to Aunt 
 Mercy's care. If I ever get to it, I am going to 
 tell you about that woman. He is not by any 
 means out of danger, but the smiling doctor 
 grows more smiling, and begins to hint that a 
 change of climate in the autumn may do wonders 
 for him, if he should rally from this. But oh ! 
 that awful " if." And let me tell you. Journal, 
 of something that I wUl tell to no one else. I 
 will not let myself say it, only occasionally. But 
 I don't believe it ! This is a deceitful lull in a 
 deceitful disease. And above all the other pain, 
 
66 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 there is one so strange and sharp, that I can not 
 explain it. But he is afraid to die ! Perry Har- 
 rison, with his splendid intellect and his splendid 
 courage! — never afraid of anything earthly — is 
 awfully afraid of this softly, shadowy thing, that 
 looks so simple and quiet — this dying ! I don't 
 think I am afraid of it. I think I would like to 
 try it. That horrible Daisy says people, even 
 cowards, are not apt to be afraid of things that 
 they fancy are far away from them. 
 
 " Are you afraid of it ? " I asked her, and I 
 spoke fiercely, as, someway, I can not help speak- 
 ing to her. She answered, quietl}^ enough : 
 
 " No, I am not. I know I should not be afraid 
 to die to-night. But it is for no such reason as 
 you give. It is because ' when I pass tlrrough 
 the valley and the shadow of death, I will fear 
 no evU, for he is with me, his rod and his staff 
 will comfort me.' " 
 
 " Why don't you teach the secret of your fear- 
 lessness to him, if it is such a secret and such a 
 wonderful thing ? " I asked, and my tone was 
 sneering. 
 
 She gave a weary sigh. 
 
 " There is just One that can teach that secret," 
 she said; "and I have tried so hard to have 
 Perry learn it of him ; but he will not." 
 
 "If I knew what you are talking about — if 
 there was anything in it all, and I had the secret 
 
From Different Standpoints. 67 
 
 — I'd risk, but what I could get Perry to be in- 
 terested in it," I said, bitterly. 
 
 She answered me in the same quiet, steady tone 
 that she had all the time used. 
 
 " You know perfectly well there is everything 
 in it. Why don't you get it for yourself, and try 
 to impart it to him ? " 
 
 Then she went away, and left me to think it 
 oyer. It is very strange. I wonder if anybody 
 ever felt so before ? I want Perry to be a Chris- 
 tian. I do believe in it. I know there is truth 
 in it. I want him to have the help that it can 
 give, for I am almost certain that he is going to 
 need it. But I don't want to be a Christian my- 
 self? I canH want to. I hate the whole subject. 
 I would wUlingly try to be interested for Perry's 
 sake. But I can't. My heart seems shut up. I 
 am going down now to read to him. He will 
 make some miserable selection — ^he always does 
 — something that will throw him into a fever of 
 thought, and do no good. What a stupendous 
 failure living is I 
 
7. 
 
 Redwood, August 10. 
 My Dear Eleanor : 
 
 What a strange fatality — Daisy would say 
 " providence " — has separated us at this time ! — 
 led you across the Atlantic and fastened me here. 
 There is absolutely no hope of my joining you 
 tliis season. True, the doctor talks of a change 
 of climate, but he wants to banish me to Califor- 
 nia. The fact is, I intend to go home just as 
 soon as I am able to travel. If I can not find 
 strength there I shall give up the quest — I have 
 almost given up the hope. I know now that 
 there was a time when the rest gave up they tried 
 to cheat me into the belief that I would rally, 
 while they had no idea that I would ! 
 
 Poor Daisy ! It must have been hard for her 
 to act a lie ; and it was only when the doctor 
 said that the knowledge of my danger would be 
 fatal — ^much he knew about it ! — that she con- 
 sented to go in and out with a falsehood on her 
 face. What if they had let me die unwarned ! 
 I asked Daisy how she got along with it. Her 
 answer puzzled me a little. 
 
 68 
 
From Different Standpoints. 69 
 
 " Perry," she said, " they insisted that you 
 must not be told, and I dared not take the res- 
 ponsibility; indeed, they declared that unless I 
 promised to be calm and not hint of your danger 
 I must be banished from your room entirely. 
 There was one thing left for me to do : I prayed 
 for yotir life as I never prayed before, that you 
 might have another chance to make Christ your 
 Friend." 
 
 Eleanor, someway I feel that I owe my life to 
 Daisy's prayer. Skeptic that I have been re- 
 garding the power of prayer, I can not divest 
 myself of this conviction. And, moreover, I feel 
 that it may be well for me to look into this mat- 
 ter. My life hangs by a thread, and if, as these 
 peoj)le say, I need a special preparation for what- 
 ever may be beyond, it is certainly time that I 
 attended to it, and. tMs is one reason why I rebel 
 against this separation. You, Eleanor, Icnow 
 about this matter ; at least, I suppose you do. 
 You profess that religion which they say sustains 
 in the dark hours, and makes it easy for men to 
 die. I certainly need that, but it is all a mystery 
 to me. You see how much I need you just now 
 to throw light upon what I suppose is clear to 
 you. Yet one thing puzzles me almost as much 
 as the mysteries of this religion. You, Eleanor, 
 have never seemed anxious about this matter. 
 You have never asked me to embrace your faith ; 
 
70 From Different Standpoints, 
 
 never said that you prayed for me. And here is 
 Daisy, with only a cousinly regard for me, over- 
 whelmed with anxiety because of ray unbelief. 
 And Eunice too, though she 'is not a Christian 
 herself, " wishes she knew something about it so 
 she could help Perry." Are tliey over-anxious ? 
 Help me, if you can. Write often. I hope to 
 be able to write longer letters soon. I find my- 
 self longing for Tom. I believe a sight of your 
 faces would almost make me well again. Did I 
 tell you that Eunice came to me when I was at 
 the worst ? She has remained here in Redwood 
 ever since. Aunt Ruth came with her, and I am 
 not sure that it was not her skillful nursing that 
 brought me back from the brink of the grave. 
 Everybody else was worn out, and just then she 
 stepped in, with her strong, steady nerves and 
 warm, motherly heart, and, as Daisy said, " put 
 new life and hope into them all." Aunt Jane 
 was entertaining the Warrens, from Albany, at 
 the time, so she could only send over every day 
 to inquire. She has since assured me that if I 
 had not been so well supplied with nurses she 
 would have asked her guests to defer their visit. 
 What a nurse she would have made ! 
 
 Here comes Eunice to read to me, and to re- 
 mind me that I am disobeying orders. 
 
 As ever, Peeey. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 71 
 
 Nassatt, September 15. 
 My Bear Eleanor : 
 
 Since my last I have gained strength very rap- 
 idly. I have been to New York to consult Dr. 
 Mason, who assures me that if I continue to im- 
 prove at the same rate for the nest six weeks, 
 after that I may do whatever I like — go where I 
 please — ^with one or two restrictions : I am not to 
 re-enter the University, and I must not remain 
 in this climate. Now, I propose to join you at 
 Florence about the middle of November. I want 
 you to consider seriously the proposition, that 
 our marriage shall take place as soon as possible 
 — say December first. We will spend the winter 
 in Florence, and go to Germany in the spring. 
 By that time I hope to be able to resume my 
 studies, and may enter one of the German Uni- 
 versities. Dr. Mason would think me wild if I 
 were to suggest that last idea in Ms presence. 
 But I am not quite ready to renounce all literary 
 work. 
 
 I went' to the old place in New York. Saw 
 Miss Myers and Charlie Thorpe, and the rest of 
 them. I missed Tom's friend, Mr. Romaine ; he 
 was out of town. I had regretted this, for I had 
 hoped to get some help from him. I am still 
 turning over in my mind the matters of which I 
 have written you concerning the reality of the 
 religion of Christ. I am " almost persuaded ; " 
 
72 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 but, as I have said before, some tbings puzzle me 
 and hold me back from any decisive action. 
 
 Ob, Eleanor!— my Eleanor! If you would 
 
 only tell me — is tbere a reality in tbis tiling? 
 
 Do you know, of your own experience, tbat all tbe 
 
 soul's needs are met in Cbrist? * * * * * 
 
 Lovingly, Peeex. 
 
 [fEOM PEEEY'S Jo'tTEKAL.J 
 
 Nassau, September 20. 
 It is five years since I gave up journalizing. I 
 do not propose to take up tbe practice again ; 
 but, being in a strangely unsettled mood to-day, 
 and happening upon this old book, I bave set 
 out to write off my moodiness. . Latterly I bave 
 bad the habit of writing to Eunice whenever a 
 fit of the blues came over me ; but, to gratify a 
 whim of Eleanor's, I have broken off the corres- 
 pondence with Eunice. I am half vesed with 
 Eleanor. If I did not know that a noble nature 
 like hers is above such petty jealousy, I should 
 feel that the request was an insult both to Eunice 
 and myself. But of course I know that she has 
 some reason for her unaccountable action in this 
 matter. Her last letters bave been exceedingly 
 cold and unsatisfactory. But I hope that I shall 
 not have to hve upon letters much longer ; and 
 when we are together all will be explained. I 
 have written to her urging that our marriage 
 
From Bifferent Standpoints. 73 
 
 take place soon. I think it will be better so, and 
 perhaps she will have more faith in her husband 
 than she seems to have in her lover. 
 
 Dear little Eunice ! I wonder if she cares 
 much. I miss her letters. I wrote to her, tel- 
 ling her as gently as I could, that whatever time 
 or strength I possessed for letter-writing ought 
 to be given to my promised wife. She did not 
 respond at all. She might have written once 
 more. It looks as if she were vexed. To tell 
 the truth, I believe that Aunt Phebe was right 
 when she said that somebody would suffer or that 
 somebody's heart would ache. Mine does. I 
 want to see my little adopted sister just once, or 
 to hear from her, to know that she is not angry 
 with her brother Perry. 
 
 But this is not entirely the cause of my present 
 unsettled mocd. When I seemed to 'be near to 
 death I felt that I needed something wliich I had 
 not. I am convinced that a man needs a Saviour 
 in the hour of death ; and it seems to me that if 
 I am going to depend on the Lord Jesus Christ 
 for strength then that he expects something of 
 me in this life — sometliing more than a mere pro- 
 fession of his name. 
 
 Now, there is my Eleanor. She is a member 
 of the Church. How does her life differ from 
 mine ? There is Daisy. But she is too nearly 
 perfect — too near angelhood — thoughts of her 
 
74 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 don't help me. There is one person who is lead- 
 ing the kind of a life that I think a Christian 
 ought to live. That is Mr. Romaine, and I have 
 never seen him. I only know him through Tom 
 and Eunice. I went to New York last week os- 
 tensibly to see Dr. Mason, though I cared very 
 little about that. I went really to see Mr. Ro- 
 maine. It was Tom Haddington's friend whom 
 I wished to consult, religiously, instead of Dr. 
 Mason, medically. But I was obliged to come 
 away without seeing him, and I know not where 
 to turn for help. 
 
 Octoher 5. — I came to New York last evening, 
 to make final preparations for my contemplated 
 tour. To-day, about noon, I found myself in the 
 vicinity of Fulton Street prayer-meeting, and, 
 prompted by a sudden impulse, I went in. The 
 meeting was in progress, and a gentleman, whom 
 I failed to recognize, at the time, was speaking, 
 and this is what he said : " Prayers are requested 
 for a young man ill with a lung disease, and who 
 is not a Clxristian." After reading the request 
 from a slip of paper, the speaker added : " The 
 young lady, whose hand I recognize in this paper, 
 is herseK not a Christian. I would add to the 
 request this, that she be also remembered in the 
 petitions." All at once it flashed over me that 
 the gentleman speaking was Mr. Romaine, the 
 young lady was Eunice, and the invalid young 
 
'From Different Standpoints. . 75 
 
 man was myself ! Well, I staid to hear myself 
 prayed for, and went out, saying, " Perry Har- 
 rison, you know that prayer will be answered, 
 £tnd you may as well yield the remainder of your 
 skeptical theories. You have already come to 
 beheve in the power of praj'er. You acknowl- 
 edge that you believe that your life has been 
 prolonged in answer to prayer. Why, then, do 
 you not go farther, and begin to pray yourself? " 
 
 Well, why do I hesitate? The simple truth 
 is, I am as ignorant as a child, of the very first 
 principles of the Christian religion. I don't 
 know what to do first. I wish 
 
 October 6. — Just at that point there was a rap 
 at my door, and Mr. Romaine entered. 
 
 " Mr. Harrison, I believe ? Pardon my intru- 
 sion, but, hearing that you were in the house, as 
 a friend of Tom Haddington's I felt like coming 
 in to see you. My name is Romaine." 
 
 I was happy to see Mr. Romaine, and said so 
 — gave him a chair, and we fell into a talk. Oui' 
 mutual friendship for the Haddingtons furnished 
 us with a topic to start off with, though I fancy 
 that there is pot much love wasted between him 
 and my peerless Eleanor. The truth is, Eleanor 
 Ls too aristocratic too live in our democratic 
 country ; and I suspect that she looks down a 
 little upon Mr. Romaine. But he is a noble fel- 
 low, and I hope to be able to prove to her that 
 
76 ^ From Different Standpoints. , 
 
 he is worthy of our friendship and love, for I 
 have already come to love him as a brother. Our 
 talk drifted along, until, at length, I said : 
 
 " Mr. Romaine, I am glad you came in. I-r 
 well, you prayed for me this morning ? " Pie 
 gave a little start, then said : " I've prayed for 
 you a great many times during the last few 
 weeks." 
 
 " Thank you. You are very kind to take an 
 interest in my unworthy self." Then I thought 
 we should never come at the point I wished to 
 reach, by making polite responses to each other ; 
 and, whne I was trying to begin again, he broke 
 the silence by saying : 
 
 " As I have already said, I became interested 
 in you through our mutual friends, and I will be 
 frank and say that one object of my call here to- 
 night is to ask you to give the subject of religion 
 your serious attention." 
 
 " I have been doing that for several weeks," I 
 replied ; " but I tell you frankly that the lives of 
 the most of the professing Christians whom I 
 Icnow have not impressed me favorably. Indeed, 
 they have made me very skeptical concerning the 
 faith which they profess." 
 
 " You believe in God and the Bible ? " 
 
 " Yes. Though my interpretation of the Bible 
 might differ somewhat from yours." 
 
 " And in Christ the Son of God ? " 
 
From Different Standpoints. 77 
 
 " Yes. That is, I am not sure about his being 
 the Son of God, in the sense in which you mean 
 it," I replied. 
 
 " In the Holy Spirit, and in his presence and 
 power in the hearts of men ? " 
 
 " There is just my trouble. People profess to 
 be led by the Spirit. And look at them ! Why, 
 see how they are led ! I can but think their own 
 depraved hearts are leading them." 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed my visitor, " you believe, 
 then, that we have depraved hearts ? " 
 
 " Yes, I db." 
 
 " And that we need a Saviour ? — that you need 
 a Saviour ? " he asked, earnestly. 
 
 "I think I feel that," I said; "but I should 
 not be satisfied with — ^well, to speak plainly, with 
 the sort of religion that Laura Myers and Char- 
 ley Thorpe have. I see very little difference in 
 Charley since he became a Christian." 
 
 " Now, my friend," said Mr. Romaine, a half- 
 amused look spreading over his face, and giving 
 place to the look of earnestness which he usually 
 wears, " wUl you tell me just how great would be 
 the change in your life were you to decide for 
 Christ? — I mean, of course, outwardly. You 
 have no bad habits, no evil associations to drop 
 off. The inner life would be all new, and the 
 outer would be enlarged. You would be more of 
 a man, and this is what Charley Thorpe has be- 
 
78 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 come — ^more of a man. You might exchange the 
 theatre for the Young Men's Christian Eooms, 
 and your voice -would be heard in the sacred 
 song and prayer. You might exchange law for 
 theology. These are the changes I see in Char- 
 ley, as you would, if you were with him long. 
 And as for Laura Myers, if you wiU go down to 
 our mission I'll show you something of what she 
 is doing. I am not blind to the truth that 
 there is a great deal of worldiness and inconsis- 
 tency among Christians ; but there is real, true 
 devotion among them. The question is, Are you 
 willing to be convinced of the reality of the 
 Christian religion ? " 
 
 " I certainly am," I said. 
 
 I was amazed at what he said of Charley 
 Thorpe. I had only seen Charley Thorpe for a 
 few moments, and had fancied that he had not 
 changed at all. Now I remember that he seemed 
 more manly, and never once spoke in the old 
 flippant tone. 
 
 " I think you mistake me," I said. " I do not 
 doubt the sincerity of all who profess to call 
 themselves Christians. But I do not see much 
 fruit. I want a religion that amounts to some- 
 thing." 
 
 Mr. Romaine did what seemed to me a very 
 strange thing — he leaned back in his chair and 
 laughed, to my vexation. 
 
T'rom Different Standpoints. 79 
 
 " Excuse me," he said. " But, my friend, will 
 you tell me what has lifted the nations of earth 
 out of the degradation into which they had fallen ? 
 What makes the difference between our own land 
 and some others — Turkey, for instance — to-day ? 
 I think you will concede that the Christian faith 
 does amount to something in its effect upon the 
 masses. And how can that be unless it brings 
 forth fruit in individuals ? Now, my friend, if, 
 as you say, you are wilhng to be convinced, will 
 you make this your prayer, ' Teach me thy way, 
 O Lord ? ' 'J'he Spirit is promised to guide into 
 all truth. Will you not, instead of looldug to 
 the hves of others for proof, seek to know for 
 yourself — ^by a^ personal experience — if there is 
 such a tiling as being renewed by the Holy 
 Ghost, and united to Christ by a living faith ? 
 If you wUl put yourseK in the right attitude be- 
 fore God — that of a penitent, seeldng, believing 
 sinner — jovi will find him ready to help, and you 
 wUl be established in the faith." 
 
 But someway I did not hke his phraseology ; 
 and I think I winced at being called a penitent 
 sinner. Must I, then, class myseK so low ? I, 
 Perry Plarrison, boasting of my morality, secure 
 in the consciousness of my integrity — must I 
 come before God with the publican's prayer ? 
 
 Perhaps Mr. Romaine divined my thoughts, 
 for he quoted : " There is no difference, for all 
 have sinned and come short of the glory of God." 
 
80 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 Was tliere, then, no difference ? 
 
 He rose to go. Holding out Ms hand, he said : 
 " I wish you could reach a decision at once." 
 
 I don't know what came over me. I forgot 
 my dignity, my morahty, my pride, and only re- 
 membered that I had wanted to talk with this 
 man — that I had hoped to get some help from 
 him — and that, after all, I had not reached the 
 point. The distress which I had now endured 
 for weeks was growing quite unbearable, and I 
 said, quickly: 
 
 " Don't go yet ; tell me just what to do." 
 
 Just one moment he stood regarding me with 
 a fixed look, then, with a low "let us pray," 
 dropped upon his knees. 
 
 Reyerently I say it, that prayer seemed to take 
 me into the presence of the Saviour — the Saviour 
 whom I had rejected. But how loving and ten- 
 der he seemed ! Surely my rejection of him was 
 a sin for which I could never atone. I was 
 ready to say, "I have sinned," and to cry for 
 pardon, and when Mr. Romaine ended with, " Oh 
 speak, no^7, clear Jesus, and bid liim rest in thee, 
 for in thee are the riches of grace, pardon, peace, 
 love and joy," I added : " O Lord Jesus, I desire 
 to be made a partaker of thy grace. Wilt thou 
 pardon and accept me ? " 
 
 Things certainly look differently to me to-day. 
 It is as though I had changed my standpoint. 
 
8. 
 
 » Floeence, Sept. — , 18 — . 
 
 My Dear Perry : 
 
 I hope you do not expect me to rave over tlie 
 sights and sounds in this foreign land. If you 
 do, you will be disappointed. I shall be much 
 more likely to complain of the rain and the damp- 
 ness. It is a very dismal evening; so horrid 
 that mamma and Uncle Arthur have given up 
 going out, much to my chagrin. The best opera 
 of the season is to be given this evening. Uncle 
 Arthur is a good deal of a bore, always having 
 neuralgia or rheumatism, and imagining that 
 there are draughts of wind in impossible places. 
 Of all unendurable people a nervous invalid is 
 the most trying. I shall pray to die outright ra- 
 ther than to live to be a burden to my friends, if 
 ever I am reduced to the state of having aches 
 and pains constantly. 
 
 I wish you were here to go out with me this 
 evening ; but then I comfort myself by reflecting 
 that you, too, are an invalid, though not so try- 
 ing a one as Uncle Arthur, I hope and trust. 
 
 81 
 
82 I'ro'm, Different Standpoints. 
 
 Mamma tries to console me by reminding me 
 that Uncle Arthur invited us to accompany liim, 
 because his health was so feeble he disliked to 
 travel alone, and but for him we should not be 
 here ; but I am sure I would much rather have 
 waited and gone abroad with you when you got 
 well. I beg you not to try and take an ocean 
 voyage imtil you are well and strong ; it is the 
 stupidest possible thing to drag through sight- 
 seeing with one who feels more like being in bed. 
 
 Tom is going home by the next steamer. He 
 has grown weary of idleness, he says ; though I 
 am siure Uncle Arthur has contrived to keep him 
 busy. If it were not for appearances I would 
 desert and go along ; but mamma thinks it would 
 be unpardonably rude to Uncle Arthur. 
 
 Perhaps you wonder why Tom could not be 
 my escort to the opera; but you need not. He 
 has a streak of propriety, or melancholy, or sanc- 
 timoniousness. Really, I hardly know what to 
 call ib, save that he has suddenly concluded that 
 the whole world of operas are schools of Satan. 
 I'm siu-e I don't know why, unless it is because 
 his precious friend, Mr. Eomaine, frowns upon 
 them. What is there so extraordinary about that 
 man ? I failed to discover it when I saw him ; 
 but Tom raves about him as though he were not 
 made of common clay at all. I wonder you 
 don't attempt a bit of match-making now you 
 
From Different Standpoints. 83 
 
 are an invalid and at leisure, and try to unite the 
 fortunes or the poverty of this remarkable man 
 and your friend Una. It strikes me they would 
 make a very romantic couple. To be sure he is 
 alarmingly tall and she is painfully short, at least 
 by his side ; but then they are such superior 
 mortals they would never think of being dis- 
 turbed by any such commonplaces as that. It 
 would be a positive trial to me. I am thankful 
 that as you are so tall I grew to a reasonable 
 height myself. I was reminded of it especially 
 the last time I saw you and Una together. If 
 you had had the remotest suspicion of how 
 queerly you looked together you would have 
 shrunk from the exhibition on Broadway. But 
 all this would be no objection to the scheme 
 which I suggest, as people of that class never- 
 have sensitive feelings. What a blessing it must 
 be to be so constituted. Sometimes I could al- 
 most wish that I belonged to that class myself. 
 
 I have time but for a short letter this week. 
 The weeks do pass so rapidly that it really seems 
 as though I had hardly mailed one letter before 
 the day arrived for another. The next time I go 
 abroad, my dear Perry, I will not make such an 
 absurd promise as that was, to write by every 
 steamer ; actually to be bound to a certain day 
 for writing a letter, whether one feels like it or 
 not, is altogether too commonplace for me. That 
 wUl do for people like your little Una. 
 
84 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 Perry, I know you are a remarkably good- 
 hearted creature, but I fail to see how you can 
 giTe so much of your time to such a morsel of 
 humanity. If it were not too absurd I might al- 
 most be jealous ! The idea of your actually mis- 
 sing her letters ! That shows what a slave habit is. 
 
 Now, as to your suggestion about the cere- 
 mony, don't, I beg of you, think of such a thing 
 as having it take place abroad. I detest that ; 
 one wants to be married at home, where one's 
 friends can have the benefit. I advise that you 
 do not try to come out this fall. Uncle Arthur 
 may take a fancy to go home at any moment, 
 and we are subject to his whims. It would be 
 dehghtful to be gone when you arrived, wouldn't 
 it ? Of course I am eager to see you and all 
 that ; we have gotten beyond those formulas ; 
 but it would be much more sensible for you to 
 stay at home. I can't, of course, tell you when 
 we shall return, but I should not be surprised if 
 it were to be soon. So at least do not make any 
 plans for a month or two ; and, in any event, 
 don't expect me to listen to such an absurd 
 proposition as a marriage in Florence. I am be- 
 yond the romantic age, and I want to be in my 
 own home and get up a toilet worthy of the oc- 
 casion, and have my friends admire it and all 
 that sort of thing, and have a good time gener- 
 ally before I retire into private life. If I were at 
 
JE'rom Different Standpoints. . 85 
 
 hoine I ■wouldn't, of course, object to a European 
 tour for a "wedding trip ; but T always thought 
 the other plan would be horrid ; it "would be al- 
 most like going to a minister's house, some night 
 after tea, a la servant-maids. 
 
 But enough of that ; I think I have convinced 
 you "what my taste is in the matter. There is 
 one portion of your letter that I must not forget. 
 It gave me much anxiety, because I thought you 
 could not be so well as you suppose, or you 
 would have certainly not been so "blue." 
 I am sure it is not like you. I think it is very 
 unwise in you to allow yourself to brood so much 
 over such questions. Part of the letter I did 
 not imderstand at aU ; it seemed almost lilie an 
 implied reproach to me. If I did not know you 
 were too gentlemanly I should fancy you thought 
 I ought to have preached to you privately. Ex- 
 cuse me, my dear, preaching is not vay forte. Of 
 course I am interested in the subject, and of 
 coui'se it would be very pleasant for me to see 
 you a Christian. In fact, I am not at all sure 
 but you are one. At least I do not see the pro- 
 priety of forcing such subjects on a person ; in 
 my opinion that does more harm than good. 
 None but a certain class of fanatics are guilty of 
 it. So that would be my answer to your query 
 as to why I never obliged you to talk about your 
 private feelings. I respect every one's private 
 
86 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 religious life. In my opinion religion should be 
 unobtrusive. I half suspect that you have been 
 coming in contact, either real or by proxy, with 
 that fanatical Mr. Eomaine. Such men should 
 be silenced by law or in some other "way. They 
 do positive harm. Tom is not the boy he was 
 before he knew him. He thinks nothing now of 
 going directly contrary to mamma's approval and 
 advice, and once he used to study to please her. 
 I hope you see the beauty of a form of religion 
 that leads one to disregard a mother's Avishes ! 
 Believe me, my dear Perry, a person has not to 
 take leave of Hs common sense in order to be a 
 very respectable Christian. As to getting ready 
 to die, that is all nonsense ! You are not going 
 to die. It would be much more sensible for you 
 to get ready to live. I tliink people are not 
 called upon to die, or to feel ready for it, until 
 their time comes. Of course you would have 
 felt very differently if you had been really going 
 to die. Don't, dear, allow yourself to become a 
 nervous hypochondriac, always talking about 
 dying, and being prepared, and almost invariably 
 speaking in a nasal tone, as if that were a part of 
 the preparation. I want you to live and take 
 care of me. It is as much a Christian duty to 
 live as it is to die, especially when one has prom- 
 ised to take charge of some one else. So, for my 
 sake as well as yours, I want you to give special 
 
T'rom Different Standpoints. 87 
 
 attention to the duty of getting well. I should 
 make a horrid nurse, and you may as well take 
 that into consideration. Please give up the habit 
 of writing about gloomy things ; it retards your re- 
 covery, I am sure. If I were Dr. Mason I should 
 prohibit you from talldng with any but merry, 
 genial people, who provoked you to laugh every 
 two minutes. 
 
 There is Uncle Arthur's bell. I know what 
 he wants as well as I shall when I receive his 
 message : " Would it be agreeable for me to read 
 the evening news ? " No, it wouldn't ! It is 
 simply horrid, but it is one of the inflictions 
 which come of being in Uncle Arthur's tram. I 
 shall not be so foolish again in a lifetime. 
 
 As ever, Eleaijoe. 
 
 [rEOM Eunice's journal.] 
 
 New Yobk, December 3. 
 Life is a queer' tangle. Ever so many things 
 have happened since I have taken the trouble to 
 write about any of them. We are having a re- 
 vival. Do you know what that is, my beloved 
 Journal ? No more do I ; only it involves a 
 great deal of going to meeting and makes some 
 people act very queerly. I go to the meetings 
 frequently — principally, let me own, for the 
 pleasure of hearing Perry talk and pray. He is 
 
88 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 one of them. That seems so strange. I hardly 
 know how it all came about, and I am not sure 
 that I Hke it, after all. Perry seems so far away 
 from me now. I'U tell you about his coming to 
 New York. No one expected him. I hadn't 
 heard from him in six weeks or more. My Lady 
 Eleanor stopped that. I knew she would. At 
 the same time I was provoked with Perry for 
 being such an idiot as to let her manage him. 
 So I meant to be awfully dignified when I saw 
 Mm next, and I wasted laj leisure hours in plan- 
 ning the way we shoidd meet and wondering 
 when it would be. I got up a good many stj'lish 
 scenes over it, and they all collapsed in a most 
 commonplace way. I was hurrying through the 
 hall one morning when the bell rang. Maggie 
 was down in the basement and I was right there, 
 so I opened the door, and there- the dear boy 
 stood. All I said was " Oh Perry ! " and he 
 held out both hands just as he used to do, and 
 said : 
 
 " You dear httle Una." 
 
 And I was so glad to see him looking so much 
 better,' and he was so thoroughly glad to see me 
 again, that someway I forgot all about how I 
 was going to act, and went back to the old ways. 
 He made the shortest possible stay, and then 
 rushed off to Nassau. He just begged of me to 
 go along and see mother and the rest, but grim 
 
From Different Standpoints. 89 
 
 Propriety, in the shape of my Aunt Ruth, 
 wouldn't allow it. I told her Perry said it 
 shouldn't cost father a cent, and she puckered 
 her thin lips together so they were no wider than 
 the edge of a case-knife, and said : 
 
 " Worse and worse ! " 
 
 I wonder if I am a simpleton ? It seems pleas- 
 ant enough to take favors from Perry, even 
 money favors. However, he made a short 
 enough stay at Nassau, and then was back again, 
 making preparations for his European tour. He 
 told me he expected to be married out there. I 
 didn't believe it any of the time. Someway I 
 
 have never believed that he would marrv that 
 
 ■t 
 
 heartless, selfish girl. The very day after he 
 told me he called me into the hall, and told me 
 not to mention it, for he had changed his plans ; 
 did not know that he should go out at all this 
 winter. I knew he had a letter by the morning 
 steamer. No telling what was in it. Probably 
 I shall never know. But that, or something 
 else, made Perry awfully cross and disagreeable. 
 He was just as moody as he could be. He snarled 
 at his sickness, and at the weather, and at every- 
 thing and every body. He never was as well sat- 
 isfied 'with things that happened as he might be. 
 This spell lasted for two days. During that time 
 I did what I suppose was a queer thing. He 
 looked sad and discouraged, and he is not by any 
 
90 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 means so well as he might be, and I felt worried 
 about him all the time. One day JMr. Romaine 
 was trying to talk sober to me. He is just as 
 good as he can be, and I respect him more every 
 day of my life. But I can't be sensible when I 
 talk to him. I said : 
 
 " See here, you are wasting youx powder. I 
 have beds to make, and rooms to sweep, and les- 
 sons to learn. I haven't time to go to meetings 
 or be good. Why don't you spend your strength 
 on Mr. Harrison. He is rich and he is sick, and 
 he is as dismal as an owl. He needs help, if you 
 have any for him. If I were one of the praying 
 people I would send his name up to be prayed 
 "for." 
 
 " Do you make that request ? " he asked. 
 And he sat down on the lower stair and took out 
 his note-book. 
 
 "Yes, I do," I said. For what harm could it 
 do ? And I did want Perry to be more comfort- 
 able. 
 
 " Dictate it, please," he said, in a business-hke 
 way, " and I will present it at the meeting to- 
 day." 
 
 So I did ; and then I set my wits to work to 
 get Perry to go to the meeting. I accomplished 
 it, too, though he sneered and scoffed and .said 
 he believed less in religion than he ever did in 
 Ms life before. But he went, and that I guess 
 
From Different Standpoints. 91 
 
 was the beginning of it, or the middle of it, or 
 something. 
 
 The very next time I was beguiled into going 
 to the meeting, which was less than a week af- 
 terward. Perry Harrison prayed! I was never 
 so amazed in my life. Who supposed that a re- 
 quest for prayer ever amounted to anything only 
 to make people feel a little more comfortable, as 
 though they had tried to do something, and if 
 they had failed it was not their fault. Since that 
 time I have had my regrets — ^no, hardly that, 
 either, but I feel left out. Perry is just as kind 
 as he can be, but he seems different, and I can't 
 explain even to myself how. He is preoccupied ; 
 thinks of nothing and talks of nothing but the 
 meetings ; he works day and night in them, and 
 does more, so the others say, than any three of 
 them. He gives a good deal of time and anxiety 
 to me, but I feel farther away from the right way, 
 if it is the right way, than ever I did. I am 
 only half glad, now that Perry is so much better, 
 that he has gone off on tliis road and left me. 
 One thing is somewhat comforting. I don't be- 
 lieve my Lady Eleanor will ever be Mrs. Har- 
 rison, Something has entirely overturned Perry's 
 plan of going out to her to be married. I hope 
 and trust they have quarreled. If they have, 
 and will only stay quarreled, it is all right. My 
 worst fear is that Perry will get so good he will 
 consider it his duty to make up. 
 
92 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 Nassau, February 16. 
 
 It is eleven o'clock. I have just come up to 
 my room. Father is better to-night, and it is 
 not my night to sit up, anyway. I have been 
 over at the Harrison mansion all day, and you 
 could never guess, you stupid Journal, what I 
 have been about. Nothing less than helping to 
 put Mr. and Mrs. Perry Harrison's rooms in 
 bridal array. Mrs. Harrison, stupid old soul, 
 sent for me this morning. They had received a 
 telegram that the bride and groom would arrive 
 by the midnight train, and she said Perry would 
 so enjoy having my taste displayed. So I dis- 
 played it. Probably Madame Eleanor wUl re- 
 arrange everything when she finds who had a 
 hand in it. 
 
 Yes, Journal, our Perry is married, and the . 
 woman of his choice is a disagreeable purse- 
 proud aristocrat ! So much for his consistency 
 in the religion which he has made such a show 
 of. But I don't mean to blame Perry; he is 
 probably deceived, like the rest of them. 
 
 What a silly world it is I Ever so many pre- 
 tending to live on a higher plane than the rest of 
 us mortals, and one needs a magnifying-glass to 
 see any difference. I dare say Perry wOl be hke 
 the rest. Pie always was a dissatisfied being. If 
 he doesn't grow worse instead of better I shall 
 wonder at it. He wUl almost be escusable, too, 
 
From Different Standpoints, 93 
 
 1 
 
 under tlie circiimstano«s ; only it will be his own 
 fault that he got into such a life. What am I 
 talking about 1 Just as if he didn't consider his 
 Eleanor all but perfect 1 Tastes differ, certainlj^, 
 
 "Well, our pleasant days are over. It is all 
 nonsense, our calling each other brother and 
 sister. That will do to put on paper, but in real 
 life it is evident that there is no such thing, out- 
 side of one's actual family. 
 
 It is five weeks since I came home. Father's 
 sickness called me. School is over for me, for 
 the present ; I shouldn't be surprised if it were 
 for always. Well, I don't know that I care. I 
 have promised to go over and help Mrs. Harrison 
 entertain the bride and groom. That old lady 
 blindly refuses to see any difference between the 
 Perry and Una of to-day and the Perry and Una 
 of years ago. Well, why should she ? Only I 
 wonder how Perry and I shall behave. I don't 
 feel as though I knew how to act. I believe I'm 
 a dunce, and I mean to go directly to bed. 
 
^^ 
 
 9. 
 
 [from peebt's JOUENAL.J 
 
 Nassau, April 18. 
 
 It began that first morning after we came 
 home. 
 
 And things have been a little unpleasant ever 
 since — I mean some things — I must not speak of 
 them to any one ; and this is why I have come 
 ■ to this old book once more — it seems like a faith- 
 ful friend, in whom I can confide my perplexi- 
 ties. 
 
 I meant to be a consistent Christian, and it 
 seemed to be an easy thing to do — ^just to take 
 up the work that came in my way — to live in all 
 things according to the spirit of the gospel. I 
 firmly believed that I — Perry Harrison — was 
 equal to it. Why should I hesitate to take a 
 bold stand for the Christian faith, having once 
 been convinced of its reality ? Why not be as 
 ready and as strong to meet opposition here as I 
 would be in any scientific or philosophical the- 
 ories which I might have embraced ? But I find 
 a difference. I suspect that Satan does not 
 
 94 
 
From Different Standpoints. 95 
 
 trouble himself about scientific or philosophical 
 
 theories, so long as religion does not get mixed in. 
 
 Hence the votaries of science and philosophy do 
 
 not find the wily enemy of souls interfering with 
 
 their investigations, untU they enter the broader 
 
 field of thought which the Bible opens. Then 
 
 he p\its forth his strongest efforts, and he is sure 
 
 to find out the weak points of the soul he means 
 
 to conquer. And it seems to me that I am all 
 
 weak points ! /, who thought myself strong, 
 
 cower and tremble before Eleanor's sarcasm ! 
 
 I shrink from mother's tender sympathy, and 
 
 turn away from Una's thoughtful appreciation. 
 
 It humbles me to find myself so weak, and it 
 
 distresses me that I am proving myself such an 
 
 unprofitable servant of the Lord Jtesus Clxrist. 
 
 The Christian way is so new to me ; and, having 
 
 all my life lived so far below my ideal of 
 
 what a Christian life should be, it is not always 
 
 easy to act consistently, in opposition to the 
 
 wishes of another, and that other — my wife ! I 
 
 am still troubled about the same old puzzle — the 
 
 conflicting views and practices of Christians in 
 
 regard to conformity to the world. As we came 
 
 from prayer-meeting, last evening — Eleanor never 
 
 goes to prayer-meeting — Una said : 
 
 " Perry, I like your religion, it is so like my 
 father's." 
 
 If that could only come true — ^if the living of 
 
96 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 the one "who, for so many years, was a father to 
 me, might have so put its impress upon my life 
 that it indeed should be like his, I must then ap- 
 proach nearer my ideal. 
 
 But Eleanor does not like Mr. Taylor, and she 
 would scarcely be satisfied with a change in her 
 husband that tended in that direction. Dear 
 Eleanor, she has such perfect health, and such 
 buoyant spirits, that I suppose I seem a little 
 dull since I have been half an invalid, and she 
 places it all to the charge of what she calls my 
 " new notions." 
 
 Una had taken tea with us, and, stopping in 
 on the way home from the meeting to get her 
 fancy work, which seems to be a necessary ac- 
 companimei^ of going out to tea, she said : 
 
 " Mrs. Eleanor, you should have been at the 
 meeting, Mr. Crampton was there, and his sing- 
 ing was heavenly ! " 
 
 " I thought that you and Perry looked as if 
 you had just come down from the clouds," re- 
 turned Eleanor. "I don't "understand. Miss 
 Taylor, how it is that you are so devoted to prayer- 
 meetings ? Now, I am a church-member, but I 
 never think of going to one ; and you, I believe, 
 have not even that motive. I suppose, though, 
 that in the country, people who are fond of going 
 out have to take to prayer-meetings for recrea- 
 tion. I don't know but I may be obliged to go 
 myself, yet, as a means of self-preservation." 
 
I'rom Different Standpoints. 97 
 
 Una laughed, and replied : 
 
 " I neyer thought of it in that light. I go be- 
 cause I was brought up to it, and my father would 
 be shocked if I were to stay 'at home." 
 
 " Well," said Eleanor, " one goes because she 
 was brought up to it, and the other because he 
 has taken up the idea that praying is the one thing 
 to be done in this life. Why, Miss Taylor, I 
 have heard more praj'ing since I was married 
 than in all my life together — I mean, of course, 
 except public prayers. I might as well have 
 married a minister, and been done with it ! " 
 
 " Perry does talk like a minister," said Una, 
 wickedly. 
 
 " I know it ! there is just my trouble ! " Elea- 
 nor said. " I am going to set my jyits to work 
 to contrive a plan to get Mm out of this horrid 
 way, so don't you oppose any plan I may pro- 
 pose." 
 
 " Of course I shall be ready for anything, even 
 a fancy ball ! " returned Una, laughingly, gather- 
 ing up her things to go. 
 
 But to get back to that first morning. Elea- 
 nor sat at the head of the table — the place which 
 my mother insisted upon yielding to my wife at 
 the outset. Now, ever since my father died, I 
 have sat in his place at the table, and, year by 
 year, been growing more and more to act in his 
 stead as the head of the house. But the family 
 
98 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 altar, broken down at his death, had never been 
 re-established. I had been slow to take up this 
 duty, even after I became a Christian, and my 
 mother and I sat at our table and went about our 
 work without even a word of prayer. But I 
 had decided that it could be so no longer, and, 
 as we sat down to the breakfast-table, I said, 
 though my voice trembled : 
 
 " Mother, Eleanor, this is a good time to begin 
 it ; let us ask God's blessing." 
 
 When I had ended, Eleanor said, in her 
 smoothest tones (and how sharp they are, some- 
 times) : 
 
 " Well, Perry, that was well done. You cer- 
 tainly have a very easy way of putting things. 
 What next, by way of surprises ? " 
 
 " Family prayer, I suppose, will be next in or- 
 der. But that ought not to be a surprise in a 
 Christian household, and I should not think it 
 would require any very great skill in the putting 
 of the question in an easy way." 
 
 " Putting the question may be easier than 
 carrying out the idea," she answered. " It may 
 do very well in the coimtry, but it could never 
 be done in the city." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that there is no such 
 thing as this in city homes ? " 
 
 " Xo, of course I don"t mean that. Tou ought 
 not to take me up so. I mean in a home like 
 
From Different Standpoints. 99 
 
 ours, for instance. Mamma never comes down 
 to breakfast before ten o'clock, and sometimes 
 uncle does not come at all. Tom and I take 
 breakfast together, unless I happen to have been 
 out late. You could never get the two or three 
 together in our house " — and Eleanor's silvery 
 laugh had just the least bit of sarcasm in it. 
 
 " But here it is very different," I said. 
 
 " Oh, yes. But then you must not expect me 
 to be as good as I am this morning, as a rule. I 
 am not used to such abominably early breakfasts, 
 and I susj)ect that you will have your family 
 prayers all to yourself." 
 
 All this good-humoredly, and I could not de- 
 cide how much of it she meant. It all struck 
 me as trifling, and I knew my mother thought 
 so. And I made reply, perhaps a little wickedly : 
 
 " You forget that I have a mother ; and I 
 think that, with the presence of the servants, the 
 service can be kept up." 
 
 " Oh, now. Perry, don't be disagreeable ! Of 
 course I think it is the orthodox way to have 
 family prayers when practicable, and where it is 
 to one's taste, but I never could endure the 
 thought of being obliged to be prompt. And 
 then it would be so embarrassing when we have 
 company — I mean people who don't beheve in 
 such things, like uncle, or mamma. Now you 
 think I am awfully wicked, I know, but it would 
 
100 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 seem queer to have a young fello-w like you con- 
 ducting family worsliip like Deacon Taylor ! 
 Will you have us read a verse around, as they 
 probably do over there ?" 
 
 " Eleanor ! " 
 
 " AVell, my dear, I thought that I would like 
 to have everything explained, so that I might 
 have a clear perception of what was expected of 
 me. Seriously, Perry, your religion is making 
 you gloomy and old-fashioned. You are not a 
 bit as you used to be, and I believe I liked you 
 better before." 
 
 " That is a complimentary thing for a wife of a 
 week to say of her husband," I said, laughing. 
 
 " I can't help it ; it is true. You have grown 
 solemn as an owl, and I expect every day to hear 
 an announcement of your determtaation to re- 
 nounce the pomps and vanities of the world." 
 
 "I have done that already," I said. "And 
 have you not done the same ? " 
 
 Just here mother spoke for the first time dur- 
 ing this conversation : 
 
 " Eleanor, remember that Perry has been an 
 invalid so long, and is stUl so far from being 
 strong, that it is not surprising he should have 
 lost some of his old vivacity of manner. For my 
 part, I think the change is not altogether for the 
 worse. A man in his position, as the head of a 
 household, and the manager of an estate, ought 
 
From Different Standpoints. 101 
 
 to be a man of some gravity. There is, to me, 
 great gratification in the thought that the loss to 
 this community, in the death of the father, may 
 yet be made good in the son." 
 
 These were pleasant words to hear from the 
 lips of a mother who is not given to flattering or 
 petting her boy. l^lj mother was never demon- 
 strative in that way. Indeed, my childhood's 
 petting was all under the roof of that little brown 
 house down the road — by Una's mother. And 
 yet no son ever loved and trusted a mother more 
 than I love and trust mine. 
 
 Eleanor is not given to pouting, but she came 
 near it then. Perhaps she felt my mother's 
 words as a rebuke, though I do not think they 
 were intended as such. Anyway, the conversa- 
 tion dropped just there ! 
 
 My Eleanor has not been accustomed to a re- 
 ligious atmosphere — I mean of the spiritual sort, 
 such as Una and my Consin Daisy have breathed 
 all their lives. True, her brother Tom is devel- 
 oping a grand Christian manhood, but he meets 
 with much opposition iiom his mother and uncle 
 — the one a Christian in name, the other an 
 avowed unbehever. He told me he longed to 
 introduce a new order of things into their home, 
 but his mother said it could not be mentioned as 
 long as the uncle was a member of the family. 
 
 My poor attempt succeeded better, though El- 
 
102 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 eanor's disrelish of the proceeding troubles me 
 greatly. She frequently does not come down to 
 breakfast, and so is not present at worship. I 
 wish she felt differently, and I can but hope that 
 she wUl grow to be more in sympathy with my 
 views and feelings. Sometimes I fancy that she 
 feels she has been wronged — that the old, unbe- 
 lieving Perry Harrison was more to her taste 
 than the grave man whom she married. Two 
 years ago, before my long illness, I held life very 
 lightly ; it was something to be enjoyed — money, 
 talents, education, love — all its good gifts were 
 only valued as they were so many more aids to 
 the grand good time I meant to make of life. 
 Ah, my estimate of life was a very low one ! I 
 thought my standard was high — but how low 
 and mean it seems to me now, viewed by the 
 light of the revelations of the last few months ! 
 With more exalted ideas of the importance of life, 
 with an ever-present remembrance of opportuni- 
 ties tlxrown away, wasted time, strength and 
 money, is it any wonder that I am consumed 
 with an eager longing to be about the work which 
 so much needs to be done, and for which there 
 are so few laborers? And is it strange that this 
 desire has changed levity into seriousness, tri- 
 fling into earnestness ? 
 
 March 28. — I received a little note from Daisy, 
 the other day ; it was written in response to a 
 
From Different Standpoints. 103 
 
 letter in which I told her that I had adopted her 
 theory, and could now thank the Lord that I had 
 been laid aside for so long as a useless member of 
 society. This was her reply : 
 
 Redwood, . 
 
 My Dear Cousin : 
 
 " O sing unto the Lord a new song : for he 
 hath done marvelous things. His right hand, 
 and his holy arm, hath gotten him the victory." 
 
 " I love the Lord because he hath heard my 
 voice and my supplications." 
 
 Daisy. 
 
 " Dear me ! " Eleanor said, when she read the 
 note. " What a sentimental lot of friends you 
 managed to draw around you ! Do you know I 
 don't like the idea which that implies. If you 
 had been a real outcast — a miserable, low sort of 
 a fellow — and somebody had picked you out of 
 the slums and filth of the city and made a man 
 of you, why then there would seem to be some 
 sense in quoting that verse about marvelous 
 things and a ' great victory.' You were always 
 respectable and honorable, and I can't see what 
 there is to make such a fuss about." 
 
 " But, Eleanor, if ' there is joy in heaven over 
 one sinner that repenteth,' may not we on earth 
 rejoice when the prodigal comes home ? " 
 
 " I don't, in the least, know what you mean by 
 comparing yourself with the prodigal," she re- 
 turned, pettishly. 
 
104 ^rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 And how could I explain to her — how make 
 
 her understand what seems clear to me, that 
 there is no difference — " All have sinned, and 
 come short of the glory of God." 
 
 We are going to New York for a few days. 
 Eleanor is bored with our country ways, and 
 needs a change. I have been urging Una to go 
 with us, but no one seconded my efforts, and the 
 little lady herself only laughed and asked me if I 
 had lost my senses. She has been here all the 
 evening helping Eleanor with her packing. 
 Someway the two get on together better than I 
 expected. I had fancied that Eleanor did not 
 like Una, but there seems to be a wonderfully 
 good understanding growing up between them ; 
 and, as Una knows how to make herself useful, 
 she is often here doing little bits of things for El- 
 eanor. I have no doubt about my enjoyment of 
 the projected trip, but for one drawback — I dread 
 to leave mother alone. The Aveather is still very 
 cold and cheerless. I tliink it was a mistake our 
 letting our faithful Jenny leave us. She under- 
 stood mother's needs so well, and could do for 
 her what no one else can. But mother feared 
 that the new daughter of the house would not 
 understand Jenny's position, and might not like 
 the familiarity into which she had grown from 
 being so long my mother's companion. So, 
 thinking that Eleanor's society would compen- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 105 
 
 sate for her loss, she decided to let Jenny go ; 
 and a new homo just then opening to the girl, it 
 was an easy thing to do. But I think now it 
 was a mistake. We did not look forward to just 
 such an emergency as the present. However, 
 Una will spend much of the time with mother ; 
 so I shall feel easier. 
 
 Eleanor is full of anticipations, and happy talk 
 of city gayeties. And I can not deny that it will 
 be pleasant, for I lilie the whir and whiz of the 
 city. I have written to Tom to meet us there, 
 and it will be a pleasure to meet Mr. Romaine 
 again. But Eleanor quite positively refuses to 
 stop at Mrs. Brocton's, her reason being that 
 " the very sight of that Mr. Romaine gives her 
 the nightmare ! " So wc go to a hotel. 
 
 Well, I hear Eleanor bidding Una good-night, 
 so I conclude that the last trunk is packed. I 
 heard the carriage driving up some minutes ago; 
 Jackson must be taking her home, as it is rain- 
 ing. Eleanor is too thoughtful to let the child 
 walk home in the rain. I am glad they are fond 
 of each other. 
 
10. 
 
 [feom Eunice's jotjenajl.] 
 
 Nassau, April 18 — . 
 
 It is April Fool's Day. A most appropriate 
 name. I wonder wliat genius originated it ? The 
 only mistake is not to have it fitted to all the 
 days. The world is just made up of different 
 classes of fools. Of course, in that case, I am 
 one of them ; but I can't help that. 
 
 I have just come home from the Harrisons, 
 where I have been helping Mrs. Perry get ready 
 for a trip to New York. I have been there all 
 the afternoon and evening. It is wonderful the 
 number of little things she contrives to find for 
 my plebeian hands to do. Perry took himself 
 ofi^ to his study early in the evening. I was glad 
 of it, for his grave, somewhat troubled face, 
 makes me feel wicked. StiU, if he had staid 
 down stairs, I would not have had to plod home 
 in the rain and the darkness. They pressed me 
 to stay until the coachman returned, but as he 
 had gone on a five-miles' errand for Mrs. Perry, 
 and it was after nine o'clock, I did not care to do 
 100 
 
From Different Standpoints. 107 
 
 so. The elder Mrs. Harrison was ■ distressed ; 
 feebly Mnted that Perry would not like it at all, 
 and that he ought to be called, which neither 
 Mrs. Perry nor I would allow ; she, for the rea- 
 son that she did not mean him to walk home 
 with me, and I, because I meant that he should 
 not go out in the rain. Mrs. Eleanor made light 
 of the walk ; said she presumed I was used to 
 going alone, and that I wouldn't mind it any 
 more than a robin would. For reasons known to 
 myself I pretended to agree with her, and made 
 my escape, running home across lots, frightened* 
 half out of iDj wits, the truth being that I am 
 not accustomed to being out alone in the even- 
 ing. I got my feet wet, and, what was worse, 
 splashed my new brown calico dress with ugly 
 mud. I am sorry about the dress, for Perry likes 
 it, and Mrs. Perry doesn't ; two reasons for my 
 hldng to wear it. 
 
 It is as good as going to the theatre to watch 
 the life being lived at the Harrison homestead 
 nowadays ; nothing more incongruous can be 
 imagined than the different elements which com- 
 pose that family. If one had not such a sore 
 feeling for one of the actors, it would be funny 
 to see them try to assimilate. Perry spends his 
 days, and I dare say his nights, in an effort to 
 reconcile his elegant bride to the simplicity of 
 her surroundings. One can not help wondering 
 
108 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 why on earth she married him. She is not rich, 
 to be sure — that is, not remarkably so — but nei- 
 ther is he, and she must certainly have been able 
 to secure wealthier prizes in the matrimonial mar- 
 ket than that. How I hate such expressions, 
 sounding like a third-rate sensation novel ! And 
 yet I can't help thinking that they fit her 
 life. What can possibly make the difference be- 
 tween that woman and her husband ? Why 
 couldn't they have had one or two ideas in com- 
 mon ? Being both of them educated, refined 
 people, why don't they think alike ? Since both 
 of them are professing Cliristians, one would 
 suppose that there, at least, their interests might 
 touch, but they do not. If anything, I think 
 they are more at variance in regard to that than 
 anything else. 
 
 Well, what is the use of my writing about 
 them? They have their own battles to fight. 
 I have promised Mrs. Harrison, senior, that I 
 will go over in the morning and see them off. 
 That aneans that I promised Perry to come and 
 see to it that his mother did not miss them very 
 much at first. 
 
 " She will miss Eleanor," the absurd boy said, 
 with a solemn face. " Being so constantly with 
 her for several weeks, of course it will make a 
 different house to have her out of it." 
 
 Undoubtedly it will ! For the sake of -his 
 
From Different Standpoints. 109 
 
 peace of mind I am really glad that he does not 
 know what a delightful " miss " it will be ! For 
 Mother Harrison and I, although neither of us 
 would own it to the other for the world, are of 
 the same mind concerning this element in the 
 household. 
 
 Now I am going to bed. 
 
 Friday Evening. — The woman seems actually 
 to be angry at him for having caught a cold! 
 They did not get to New York, after all. I went 
 over 3'esterday morning, according to promise. 
 I waited until it was almost time for the carriage 
 to take them to the cars, but I found them sit- 
 ting at the brealifast-table. 
 
 "You will be late," I said. " The train is in, 
 and they don't stop but twenty minutes." 
 
 Then Perry attempted to explain to me how 
 their plans had to be changed by reason of the 
 severe cold he had taken. But he was so hoarse 
 it was almost impossible for him to talk. 
 
 " How did you get such a distressing cold? " I 
 asked him, and his wife answered : 
 , " FoolishljTj of course, just as all such colds are 
 contracted. He would persist in going out to 
 the prayer-meeting, yesterday noon, though it 
 was raining at the time. Generally he is very 
 particular about the rain ; but he seemed to think 
 that for a prayer-meeting the laws of health 
 would be suspended." 
 
110 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 Mother Harrison looked disturbed, not to say 
 vexed, over this, and answered with spirit : 
 
 "Indeed, Eleanor, I don't think it was the 
 prayer-meeting. It rained very little at noon 
 yesterday. If he hadn't gone in search of that 
 worsted last evening, and got his feet wet, it 
 would all have been well." 
 
 " Of course the poor worsted must be blamed," 
 Mrs. Eleanor said, with a laugh that jarred on 
 one to hear. "The prayer-meeting couldn't be 
 at fault ; it was very absurd of me to hint such a 
 thing; I shouldn't wonder if two or three of 
 them indulged in to-day would cure him. Mean- 
 time, I was very wicked to want a skein of 
 worsted. I hope I wUl never be guilty of such a 
 sin again." 
 
 Poor Perry looked excessively annoyed. 
 
 " There is no blame to be attached anywhere," 
 he said, hoarsely. " I take cold easily, I know, 
 and should have been more careful of myself. It 
 is nothing serious, I trust. I am chiefly sorry for 
 your disappointment. Perhaps I may be well 
 enough to go by to-morrow." 
 
 But he isn't ; he is hoarser than ever to-night, 
 and his mother says it is because he exerted him- 
 self to talk with Eleanor, so that she would not 
 have too dull a time last evening. 
 
 I went over to-day to take the magazine. Mrs. 
 Eleanor met me at the door of their room, and 
 
From Different Standpoints. Ill 
 
 informed me that she didn't see but I would have 
 to do my patient up in pink cotton and lay him 
 away on a slielf till spring ; he is absolutely good 
 for nothing in the winter. 
 
 I could have choked her. The poor fellow 
 looked so pale, and coughed in that horrid, hol- 
 low way that seems to almost cut me in two ; 
 and yet he sat so erect and tried to make light 
 of the matter. 
 
 " Why don't you soak your feet and go to bed ? " 
 I asked him, the minute I caught sight of his pale 
 face. 
 
 " Yes, and drink catnip tea, or ginger, or what- 
 ever other horrid dose it is they fix ; and pile on 
 the blankets, or old-fashioned comfortables, it 
 ought to be. Isn't that the way they do things 
 in the country ? " 
 
 " They take care of people when they are sick," 
 I said crossly, " if that is what you mean. Perry, 
 I'm afraid you will have another attack of con- 
 gestion if you don't let yourself be cared for in 
 time." 
 
 His mother gave me a gratified glance. 
 
 " I have been coaxing him all the morning to 
 lie down and let me try to sweat him," she said, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " So have I, I am sure," added his wife. " I 
 tHnk the process must be a very interesting one, 
 from all I have heard of it. I should suppose it 
 
112 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 might add greatly to his appearance. Miss Tay- 
 lor, if you understand the affair, perhaps you 
 wouldn't mind superintending it." 
 
 It was evident even to Perry's blinded eyes 
 that she was trying to insult me. He looked so 
 utterly distressed, and yet so appealingly at her, 
 that I shut back the indignant words that were 
 crowding to my lips, and left him with Ms mother. 
 
 This is what marriage means, is it ? What a 
 sympathizing, tender friend she is ! How much 
 one, sick and suffering, would like to have her 
 around ! Oh, I am sure I hope with all my soul 
 that she will never be so utterly unendurable to 
 Perry Harrison as she is to me. I hope he wiU 
 never, never discover his mistake, for it is stirely 
 a mistake. They haven't an idea in common. I 
 will hold my peace ; I will help to blind him if I 
 can ; for to realize what she is, and what he has 
 done in marrying her, would be too dreadful for 
 a man like Perry Harrison. 
 
 Closing her journal with a sense of disgust 
 over that, and, indeed, almost everything else, 
 Miss Eunice Taylor made herself ready for rest, 
 revolving in her mind the resolve so lately writ- 
 ten down, and wondering much whether that 
 would involve the remaining away from the Har- 
 rison mansion. In view of the feeling, amount- 
 ing sometimes to absolute disgust, which she had 
 for his wife, could she hope to appear so friendly 
 
From Different Standpoints. 113 
 
 before Perry as to satisfy him, and help him 
 to hug the delusion that he had chosen wisely 
 and well ? On the other hand, if she remained 
 away from there, how long would it take the idle 
 eyes of their little village to see, and the idle 
 tongues to concoct possible reasons ? Besides, 
 what would Perry say ? Thinking about it did 
 not help her out of the bewilderments ; and, with 
 a petulant wish that they would go off to New 
 York and stay there, she tried to dismiss the 
 subject irom her mind, without coming to any 
 decision further than that she would stay away 
 for awhile, and see how it would seem. 
 
 This resolution lasted until about three o'clock 
 the next afternoon, when the little maid who ran 
 errands for the Harrisons came with a message 
 that she would come over for awhile. The mes- 
 sage was from the mother, and Eunice at once 
 obeyed it. The elder lady met her in the hall, 
 and sunk her voice into a whisper, as though she 
 already felt the divided lives that had begun in 
 that'household. 
 
 " She has gone to lie down ; says she has a 
 headache ; and poor Perry hasn't eaten a mouth- 
 ful to-day. The doctor says he musn't go on so ; 
 he must keep up his strength. I thought maybe 
 if I should go down myself, and make him some 
 real nice beef tea, he would eat a few spoonfuls, 
 only I diSn't like to leave him alone, and I 
 
114 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 would as soon disturb Queen Victoria as her out 
 of one of her naps. So I just thought I would 
 send for you to come over and amuse him a little 
 while." 
 
 " What an idea ! " murmured Eunice. But 
 she went forward to the sitting-room without 
 further comment, and found Perry sitting in the 
 great arm-chair before the fire, his head thrown 
 wearily back on the pillow, and his whole air 
 one of dejection and disheartenment. He bright- 
 ened visibly as she entered. 
 
 " This is kind," he said, trying to sit upright. 
 " Eleanor is lying down. She is not very well 
 to-day ; but she has been gone a long time ; I 
 dare say she will be down soon." 
 
 " I hope not," muttered Eunice ; but she said 
 it under her breath, and then aloud : 
 
 " Does your head ache ? Put it back again on 
 the pillow. Why do you try to put on ceremony 
 with me ? I'm your nurse, and you are to do as 
 I tell you ; your mother said so." 
 
 He laughed and obeyed her, but in a moment 
 the troubled look came back. 
 
 "I am so sorry about this illness, Una," he 
 said. " It is such a disappointment to El- 
 eanor. Of course she is anxious to see her 
 mother ; and having made all her plans, and 
 written when she was to be there, it is a real trial. 
 Several engagements that she looked* forward to 
 
From Different Standpoints. 115 
 
 will have to be broken. I feel so sorry that her 
 life with me should begin in disappointment, and 
 one way or another she has a good many of 
 them." 
 
 " Of course it is a trial," Una said. " But I 
 dare say she will have grace to bear it, especially 
 when she remembers that there are heavier ones 
 even than tliis, which come to some people." 
 
 How could she help a touch of sarcasm in her 
 voice. Perry did not smile ; he looked grave, 
 almost displeased. 
 
 " She is not used to disappointment," he said. 
 " Her life has been a very sunny one, and she is 
 intense in her nature. Her plans mean a great 
 deal to her." 
 
 Some people have a way of calling that a sel- 
 fish nature, Una thought ; but this thought she 
 kept to herself. Perry was silent for a minute, 
 then he broke forth again : 
 
 " Sometimes I think it is a providence placed 
 in my way that I may not carry out the pro- 
 gramme we formed," he said. " I have been in 
 trouble about that, Una. It is a wonderfully 
 hard thing to know what to do." 
 
 And the young man rolled his head restlessly 
 on his pillow, as if the whole business of life were 
 an enigma to him. 
 
 " What is the matter with New York ? " Eu- 
 rdce asked, in her intense sympathy for him, and 
 
116 From J)ifferent Standpoints. 
 
 her desire not to show it, making her voice al- 
 most rough. 
 
 " Well," he said, hesitating and flusliing pain- 
 fully—pit was a dehcate subject to touch — " you 
 know, Una, the sort of life to which Eleanor has 
 been accustomed in New York, and you know 
 that it can not be in accordance with my present 
 ideas of life and duty. To what extent should I 
 be justified in doing violence to my own feelings 
 in order to give her pleasure ? That is one be- 
 wilderment, and there are a dozen others." 
 
 It was almost impossible for Eunice not to be 
 ugly in her answer. 
 
 " But, Perry, how do you expect me to under- 
 stand what you mean ? I know you claim- to 
 have been converted, whatever that involves ; 
 but so does your wife, and I can not see why 
 your tastes should not accord. How am I ex- 
 pected to understand you when she does not ? " 
 
 My lady had the benefit of a pair of very stern, 
 very rebuking eyes just then, from a head that 
 sat erect without the aid of a pillow, as he said : 
 
 " You need to remember that my wife's father 
 was very different, from yours ; and my wife's 
 mother is very different from yours — an almost 
 infinite difference there is between them. There 
 is a good deal of power in education, Una." 
 
 Clearly, if she wanted to cast a shadow over 
 the fair name of his wife, she had not attained 
 
From Different Standpoints. 117 
 
 her object ; but sbe really had no such object, 
 and was thoroughly ashamed of herself. She 
 hastened to speak soothingly, realizing that his 
 color "was coming and going in a way that would 
 speak ill for her success as a nurse. 
 
 " Of course there is," she said, quietly. " There 
 are not many fathers and mothers in the world 
 like mine, and I know it. Perry, if I were you I 
 wouldn't worry about New York tUl I reached 
 there. Your business just now is to get well. 
 Besides, I wouldn't go to being pokey about my 
 religion. You are just the sort of person that 
 they make fanatics of. I dare say there are ever 
 so many harmless things that your wife would 
 enjoy wliich you will set yourself to believing are 
 wrong. I wouldn't ck) it." 
 
 This she said honestly, with a desire to help 
 him — to soften a little the discussions which she 
 knew were sure to come between himseK and 
 wife. But he had a way of silencing her. 
 
 " Is your father a fanatic ? " he asked. 
 
 "Never mind my father," she said, brusquely. 
 " Let me lift up that pillow and make you more 
 comfortable." 
 
 A few minutes of silence, then he broke forth 
 again : 
 
 " Do you know what Romaine is doing. Splen- 
 did fellow! He has gone to preaching. He 
 doesn't call it that, either — ' Talks,' he says it is ; 
 
118 I'rom, Different Standpoints. 
 
 gathering in those who will not go to church, 
 and singing to them, and telling them the story 
 of Christ. I can imagine what it is, and how he 
 does it. I would rather hear him than any min- 
 ister I know. I tell you what, Una, I wish / 
 were a mechanic, a day laborer, or any sort, with 
 the opportunities they have for working among 
 their fellow men. Someway I can't get close 
 enough to anybody to do any good." 
 
 " I don't believe it is being a mechanic that 
 makes the difference," Una said, briskly. " And 
 you musn't talk nonsense, if you are sick. I 
 shan't allow it. The idea of you, with your lei- 
 sure, and your money, and your chances, wishing 
 yourself somebody else ! It is absurd. If I had 
 your opportunity and your notions I'd risk but 
 that I would find work to do." 
 
 " What would you do, Una ? " 
 
 " Do ! Everything. I can think of a dozen 
 things that want doing awfully. The trouble 
 would be to decide where to begin." 
 
 " But, Una, that is generahzing. I can do that 
 splendidly. Come down to actual, practical 
 work, and tell me what you would do if you were 
 situated exactly as I am at this present time." 
 
 " I would keep my head still, and not rumple 
 up that tucked piUow-slip in the way that you 
 are doing. As for work, when you are well 
 enough, why, to begin with, look at the factory 
 
From Different Standpoints. 119 
 
 boys and girls in this town, beginning work at 
 half-past five in the morning and working tUl six 
 at night, year in and year out. What chance 
 have they for becoming men and women ? How 
 are they going to know how to read their Bibles, 
 or write their names, or form an intelligent opin- 
 ion about anything that is going on in the world ? 
 Nice citizens they will make by and by ! You'll 
 be called on to spend your money in building 
 penitentiaries and prisons for them. I'd have 
 schools — evening schools — ^in pleasant rooms, and 
 I'd have maps, and charts, and globes, and all 
 sorts of things to help them, and nice, pleasant, 
 well-dressed people to teach them and to shew 
 them how to act. And I'd have little lunch- 
 rooms, where they could get a cup of coffee and 
 a dish of ice-cream for barely what it costs to 
 make them, or hardly that ; where a boy could 
 invite the girl he thought the nicest in the world 
 to come and take some refreshments, and pay for 
 it himself, and feel that he was manly. There 
 are ten thousand things I would do. I could 
 help at some of them myself, if I had a chance, 
 though I don't know anything about being a 
 Christian." 
 
 Perry's eyes had grown bright while she spoke, 
 now they glowed with pleasure. 
 
 " That sentence is full of thought, Una," he 
 said, " and I see, as you say, a hundred avenues 
 
120 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 opening. As soon as I am ■well enough we will 
 plan it aU. I am sure Eleanor would be inter- 
 ested in some work of that kind." 
 
 At this point his pillows felt on either side, and 
 Una went to arrange them. 
 
 " You must sit still," she said. " This position 
 is not conducive to eloquence. What will your 
 mother say to such a rumpled state of affairs ? " 
 
 At that moment the door opened and there 
 entered, not his mother, but his wife, immacu- 
 late in rich winter toilet, and elegantly gotten up 
 as though she were about to sit down to a New 
 York dinner-table with honored guests. She 
 paused in the doorway and surveyed the two : 
 Una with her hand stUl patting the pillows into 
 place, and her husband, with his flushed, eager 
 face settling back among them. 
 
 " Really," she said, " is that a tableau? " 
 
 "No," answered Una, with utmost coolness. 
 " Only a headache, and a perverse patient, who 
 tumbles his mother's drapery around and drops 
 the pillows. I have been taldng your place of 
 nurse whUe you rested. Now that you have 
 come I suppose I may be relieved. I think Ms 
 head ought to be bathed in cologne, or sometliing 
 cooling ; he is feverish." 
 
 Then she went home, and that night she wrote 
 in her journal this : 
 
 He thinks he can interest her in night-schools, 
 
From Different Standpoints. 121 
 
 and iU-smelling, ill-dressed factory girls and boys, 
 and homely limches ! What idiots men are ! 
 Oh, Perry Harrison ! what is to be the end of it 
 all? Was I helpful or a hindrance in starting 
 this new train of thought for his feverish brain 
 to work on ? Yet I honestly fear, if he doesn't 
 have something to work on that will interest and 
 draw him away from himself, he will die. 
 
11. 
 
 The entries in Perry Harrison's journal were 
 too few, and at such long intervals, that the con- 
 necting links in the history of these people must 
 be supplied by the chroniclers of their lives and 
 fortunes. 
 
 The thought which Eunice Taylor put into 
 the restless brain of the invalid stuck fast, and so 
 grew upon him — so amplified itself that he could 
 not wait until he was well again to let some of 
 its outgrowths develop into action. 
 
 The next time Eunice came over to the Harri- 
 son mansion, this time summoned by Mrs. Elea- 
 nor, who found the work on political economy 
 which Perry wanted read aloud quite too dry 
 reading for her, the subject came up again ; in- 
 deed. Perry very soon interrupted the reader to 
 say: 
 
 " Now, Una, about that idea you advanced the 
 other day. I have been revolving it over and 
 over, and while I see the work to be done plainly 
 enough, the question is just where to take hold. 
 Can you suggest?" 
 122 
 
I From Different StuTidpoints. 123 
 
 Eunice closed the book. 
 
 " Why," she began, " with so many wrongs to 
 be righted, so many evils to put down, so many 
 wretched homes to be brightened, so many miser- 
 able lives to be led up out of the darkness, it does 
 not seem as though there need be any questions 
 as to what to do." 
 
 " It isn't a question of what to do, but where 
 to begin ; it bewilders me to think of all there is 
 to do." 
 
 " I see," said Eunice. " You remind me of 
 myself, when my room gets topsy-turvy. I have 
 sometimes stood in the midst of the confusion 
 with a feeling of utter despair. It would seem 
 that I could never get thiugs to rights. Articles 
 that belonged on the bureau would be partly on 
 the bed and partly on the table, and things out 
 of the closet partly on the chairs, and maybe 
 some of them strewed over the floor, and the 
 books all awry and things stirred up generally. 
 No matter how they got into that condition, they 
 have got to be cleared up, and the puzzle is 
 where to begin. I feel like sweeping everything 
 off tables and bureau into one promiscuous heap 
 and hoistiag them out of the window. But the 
 thing I do is to reach out and take up the article 
 nearest me and put it into its place, and then 
 turn round and take up the next, and so on. 
 Moving one thing makes way for another to take 
 
124 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 its place, and before I know it the room actually 
 gets into some sort of order, and then if I am 
 called away before it is all done I have still ac- 
 complished something." 
 
 " So you would not advise me to sweep out ex- 
 isting habits and customs all at once, but just 
 take up the matter nearest and right that, and 
 the rest wUl follow." 
 
 "Well, yes, something like that. Things 
 won't right themselves while we stand looking at 
 the evils. We have got to take hold." 
 
 " Yes. And now, Una, tell me just where." 
 
 Perry leaned back in his chair and waited for 
 Una's answer, while she looked away, down the 
 hill into the valley below, where the tall cliim- 
 neys loomed up, and the low tenement-houses 
 were visible through the leafless trees. 
 
 " Well," he said, after awhile, smiling, " will it 
 be cottage prayer-meetings or a temperance so- 
 ciety?" 
 
 "Neither," returned Eunice, emphatically. 
 " You might about as well set a music-box play- 
 ing in the center of that room of mine, and ex- 
 pect the hats and shawls and all the rest to mar- 
 shal themselves into their places. My friend, 
 these people have not been educated up to tem- 
 perance societies nor cottage prayer-meetings. 
 How many would come, do you suppose, if you 
 were to give notice of such an entertainment ? " 
 
From Different Standpoints. 125 
 
 " Not many, I presume," answered Perry, 
 wearily. 
 
 " Besides," restimed Eunice, " it is the boys 
 and girls that I am thinking of. I shouldn't ex- 
 pect to do much for the others. I think," she 
 resimied after a few minutes, "that there is a 
 nice room over Mr. Clark's store that might be 
 fitted up comfortably. I am sure that you could 
 get it, because I heard Mrs. Patten talking about 
 it. She has opened a shop in the Tillage, and 
 would have liked that room, but it was rather be- 
 yond her means and larger than she needed. 
 Shouldn't wonder if it woiild be just the thing." 
 
 " For what ? " asked Perry, laughing. 
 
 " Wait tUl I get through, can't you, you impa- 
 tient mortal ! Don't you know that I always 
 get it out, aU that I want to say, even if I do 
 sometimes begin at the wrong end? Now I 
 would respectfully suggest thaf you secure this 
 room, and fit it up with carpet, seats and plat- 
 form, and put up curtains^ kalsomine the walls 
 and hang up some pictures, and then get some 
 views or maps or something to illustrate the sub- 
 ject you decide to have presented, and then, by 
 way of opening, give a little entertainment — 
 somethiug that will be instructive and pleasant, 
 too — and then present the matter of an evening 
 school. I don't believe I would make it a charit- 
 able institution, either. These people like to be 
 
126 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 independent ; but you can study that out wMle 
 the work of fitting up the room is under way." 
 
 " Does Mr. Clarke own the building, do you 
 know?" 
 
 " I think so. Father would know about that." 
 
 " Well," said Perry, " as soon as Thomas comes 
 home I will send for Mr. Clarke, and perhaps he 
 will enter into this work. Any way, he will 
 know whether or not the room is suited to our 
 purpose." 
 
 " My dears," said Mrs. Harrison, who had been 
 sitting listening quietly to the talk, " are you 
 sure that you have counted the cost ? You know 
 that this thing, once started, must be carried on, 
 or it will be worse than not to begin at all. 
 Perry, remember your own frail health, and re- 
 member, too, that your wife's tastes and wishes 
 have now to be consulted in your movements." 
 
 " I hardly think," said Perry, with a touch of 
 pride in his tone, "that Eleanor will set her 
 tastes or wishes in the way of any plans for the 
 good of the class of people whom we propose to 
 benefit. Indeed, I am depending largely upon 
 her help — hers and Una's. They, with their 
 strong, willing hands and hearts will, I expect, 
 carry out the plans which I may lie here and 
 make." 
 
 This with a faint laugh, as if he were trying 
 to make light of his weakness. And in his fever- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 127 
 
 ish anxiety to begin he could scarcely await the 
 return of the servant to arrange for an interview 
 with the village merchant. 
 
 In the midst of this talk Eleanor returned from 
 a drive, which she had taken in solitary grandeur 
 in the family carriage. She had been to the 
 loan library in a neighboring village, and came 
 back with a package of books more to her taste 
 than any she found in the Harrison library. 
 
 " There," she said, as she entered, looking so 
 handsome in her magnificent attire that even Eu- 
 nice was forced to admire her, " I hope that you 
 have finished that stupid book ; I was bored to 
 death with it, and I don't believe that Perry 
 found it as interesting as he pretended. I have 
 brought home the newest novels, and now, my 
 dear, I shall be yom? most devoted reader. I de- 
 clare," she continued, picking up from the table 
 the book which Eunice had left open at the 
 last page read, " I don't believe you have been 
 reading at all. This is only two pages beyond 
 the place where I left off. I know that much 
 about it, if I did not find it interesting." 
 
 " It is true," said Perry, "that we have talked 
 more than we have read, the reason being that I 
 wanted the benefit of this young lady's idea upon 
 a subject that just now interests me. Let me tell 
 you about it." 
 
 " Oh, don't trouble yourself," said Eleanor, 
 
128 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 haughtily. " I assure you that it can be of no 
 sort of interest to me. Miss Taylor and myself 
 are not likely to have many ideas in common." 
 
 A look of pain swept over Perry's face, but 
 Eunice seeing it, forced herself to laugh, while a 
 flush rose to her cheeks. 
 
 " Probably not," she said, "unless it be on the 
 subject of fancy-work. Cross-stitch is cross- 
 stitch the world over. But I must go now. 
 Good-by, Perry; good-by, Mrs. Eleanor. I'll 
 bring over the invalid's dinner to-morrow. So 
 get up an appetite." 
 
 In the course of the talk with Mr. Clarke, 
 when that gentleman called in response to Perry's . 
 message, he asked, innocently : 
 
 " Will your wife be one of the teachers." 
 
 I believe that even Perry Plarrison, with all 
 Ms loyalty toward his wife, had a vision of her 
 face as it would have looked had the question 
 been asked in her presence, and thought of how 
 she would have scorned the connecting of her 
 name with the enterprise brought that pained ex- 
 pression to his face as he replied : 
 
 " I think not. It seems to me that it would be 
 better to have paid teachers. I want to remove 
 the enterprise as far as possible from the appear- 
 ance of a charitable institution, and put it some- 
 what on a business footing." 
 
 " It will be a failure," predicted Mr. Clarke. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 129 
 
 " Tlie people do not care for education, and you 
 will not get pupils enough to pay a teacher. I 
 am sure it must fail." 
 
 " As a profitable business venture it may in a 
 sense, though I am not sure that we shall not all 
 reap the benefit in the future. Anyway, I take 
 that part of the burden and responsibility." 
 
 The talk and planning went on, and soon af- 
 terward the work of fitting up the room began. 
 That room ! Even Eunice Taylor's hopeful 
 heart almost failed her that morning when at 
 Perry's request she went to look at the capabili- 
 ties of the place. A dark stairway leading up to 
 a damp, cheerless lumber-room — that was what 
 she found. But a few days later, the carpenter 
 having opened and repaired the shutters, letting 
 in the blessed sweeteners — the pure air and the 
 sunshine — the kalsominer having done his work, 
 the glazier and the painter having departed, leav- 
 ing pleasant reminders of their visit, she again 
 paid a visit to the place, which had now a "hall." 
 How different it was ! Perry was with her. El- 
 eanor had rather ungraciously dechned to accom- 
 pany them. The stairway had in some myster- 
 ious way been made a sharer in the benefit of air 
 and light, and the clean, sunny apartment into 
 wloich they stepped out of the little ante-room 
 was a surprise and a delight to both of them. 
 
 "Well, Una," said Perry, "do you think we 
 can make anything of it ? " 
 
130 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 " If you tad seen it as it was the other day you 
 would think it made already," she replied. " But 
 of course it needs some furniture." 
 
 " What is the first thing ? " he asked. 
 
 " I should say a carpet," she replied. 
 
 " Aren't you rather extravagant in your ideas ? " 
 asked Mr. Clarke, who had come up with them. 
 
 " Perhaps so. But did you ever know a wo- 
 man to acknowledge that ? " she responded, 
 laughing. 
 
 " You know the class of people that you wUl 
 get in here are not accustomed to carpets," said 
 Mr. Clarke. 
 
 " That may be ; but if they were used to all 
 the refinements of life I suppose that this room 
 would not have been needed at all," returned 
 Una. 
 
 " Mr. Clarke thinks the boys and girls are not 
 educated up to carpets," said Perry, with a mean- 
 ing glance at Una. " But, really, Eunice, is that 
 necessary ? " 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but I like carpets ; it is a weak- 
 ness of mine." 
 
 " "Well, then, we wiU certainly have the room 
 carpeted, out of consideration for your weak- 
 ness." 
 
 Carpeted, and furnished with a sort of combi- 
 nation of seats and desks, the " hall " was like a 
 little bit of paradise let down among the dingy 
 
From Different Standpoints. 131 
 
 homes of the boys and girls, to many of whom 
 home was only a place where they ate and slept, 
 home loves and associations being ignored. 
 
 One gloomy, drizzly day, at the very last of 
 April, Eunice plodded her way homeward, hav- 
 ing driven the last carpet-tack, and hung the last 
 picture at exactly the right angle, and having 
 taken a last look to see that the " welcome " was 
 hung in the most conspicuous place. She was 
 alone, as she locked the door and pocketed the 
 key, as Perry had suggested when he drove off 
 with Eleanor. An hour later she said to her- 
 self: 
 
 " Well, this is rather early in the history of 
 this enterprise to have the whole thing shifted 
 to my shoulders. I have a mind to throw the 
 key into the pond. It will be just like my lady 
 to insist upon going to the moon and dragging 
 Perry with her, on the very day of the opening. 
 Who knows but I may have to make the speech 
 myself! I wonder if that Mr. Romaine will 
 come." 
 
 Of course the refitting of the unused room had 
 not gone forward without causing much talk and 
 wonderment. How at least two people of our 
 acquaintance looked at it will be seen from let- 
 ters written at this time. 
 
 This from Eleanor to her mother : 
 
132 JVowi Different Standpoints. 
 
 Nass-ATJ, April — , 18 — . 
 Dear Mamma : 
 
 Was ever anything so provoking ! Since my 
 hurried note, telling you of our detention, I have 
 waited vs^ith trunts packed, hoping that he would 
 be able to start. But Perry's mother and confi- 
 dential friend have been too much for me. If 
 we had held to our original plan and got off that 
 first morning it would have been better, to my 
 way of thinking. Then Perry could have had 
 the benefit or Dr. Mason's advice, instead of 
 being sweated and toasted and soaked by this 
 country doctor, who knows about as much as a 
 school-boy. To tell the truth, mamma, this hus- 
 band of mine has to be petted and dosed, and 
 dosed and petted, and as I am a poor hand at 
 such work they have to call in the neighbors. 
 I-Ie is almost as nervous as Uncle Arthiu-, and a 
 great sight more fortunate in having some ear- 
 nest sympathizers. You see, mamma, if Perry 
 were real sick (I mean alarmingly) I could never 
 .run on at this rate ; but they do make such a fuss 
 over a little cold. I have a cold myself ; I caught 
 it by going into the east wing to sleep. Perry 
 coughed so incessantly that I did not sleep any 
 the night before. The room was horribly cold, 
 and the miserable wood fire went out, so that I 
 got a chill. But nobody minds it. 
 
 I haven't the slightest idea when we shall go to 
 
From Different Standpoints. 133 
 
 New York. I unpacked to-day; for, though 
 Perry is now able to be out, he is so busy with a 
 new scheme that it would be impossible to get 
 him away ; and, besides, it is now so late that I 
 don't care to go untH just before we go to New- 
 port, to get my outfit ; for I mean to go to New- 
 port, though I expect to go under difficulties. 
 
 Mother Harrison informed me yesterday that 
 the sea air was bad for lung complaints, and that 
 Perry ought to live on the mountains, the air 
 was so invigorating. All that woman lives for 
 is to see that Perry does not do some of the in- 
 numerable things which are not good for him. 
 They — I mean we — live in a horribly plain 
 way. You would never dream that the Harri- 
 sons, mother and son, were worth a hundred 
 thousand, more or less. The house is as old- 
 fashioned as a country meeting-house, and the 
 furniture — well, I always did hate claw-footed 
 tables and old, musty-smelling wardrobes and 
 sideboards and old-fashioned silver. It is noth- 
 ing but a miserable little factory village, any- 
 way, with not more than two or three families 
 whom one would care to visit. Several have 
 called, some of them formally, but some of those 
 horrid factory people, with no style. Don't you 
 think I will be likely to return the calls of that 
 sort of people ! And yet Perry and his mother 
 seem to take it for granted that I will go poking 
 
134 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 around on factory lanes and into common tene- 
 ment-houses, making myseK agreeable to every- 
 body! 
 
 And now wbat do you tbink is the latest ? 
 The chief talk at breakfast, dinner and supper 
 for the last fortnight has been a quixotic under- 
 taking which Perry and his adopted sister have 
 planned and begun to carry out. They tried to 
 get me into it, and I believe that Perry was ac- 
 tually haK vexed that I did not fall in love with 
 his scheme on the spot, and spend all my ener- 
 gies during the day and he awake nights contriv- 
 ing plans for the furtherance of his enterprise, 
 which, as nearly as I can find out, has no name, 
 but if I were called upon to give it one I should 
 call it a gigantic humbug, though whether or not 
 they will succeed in humbugging anybody but 
 themselves remains to be proven. I don't be- 
 lieve in pulling down all social defenses and tak- 
 ing the rabble into intimate companionship. For 
 my part I don't believe in making such a fuss 
 over that class ; they can look out for themselves. 
 I hate this talk about elevating the masses and 
 educating them up to things. I told Perry that 
 the first he knew he would have them elevated 
 above us, and I preferred to keep on the upper 
 layer myself. He thinks I'm wicked, and Miss 
 Taylor looks at me with those great brown eyes 
 of hers in a way that makes me want to shake 
 
From Different Standpoints. 185 
 
 some of the conceit out of her. That girl is here 
 half the time. You see it is this way : A long 
 time ago, when Perry was a little feUow, his 
 mother was absent several years, traveling in 
 Europe for her health, and Perry was left with 
 these Taylors, and they are just the sort of peo- 
 ple to presume upon that fact for the rest of their 
 lives. But Perry and his mother can not see 
 that, and they think the girl the pink of perfec- 
 tion; and as for Father Taylor, Perry quotes 
 him and patterns after him until I am growing 
 to detest the whole family. 
 
 Perry tells me that he has written to Tom to 
 come up here with Romaine next week. I want 
 to see Tom, but I believe I would about as soon 
 forego that pleasure if I must take a dose of Ro- 
 maine with him. But, if Tom comes, I wish you 
 would enclose me a package of trimmings, etc. 
 I will enclose a list. There isn't a decent milli- 
 ner or dressmaker here, and I should have been 
 wearing my winter hat still, only Miss Taylor 
 made up that drab velvet for me. With the aid 
 of the fashion-plate she managed to get up quite 
 a respectable affair. She is really quite handy 
 and has exquisite taste. I wonder that she does 
 not take up a trade. 
 
 Good-by for a little, Eleanok. 
 
 This from Perry to Mr. Romaine : 
 
136 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 Nassau, April — . 
 Bear Friend and Brother: 
 
 I hoped to have been with you ere this, speak- 
 ing face to face of the things of which, knowing 
 so little, I am desirous of knowing more ; but, as 
 it seems, I have been held to this place by a 
 Providence whose planning hand I am learning 
 to acknowledge. There is a work going on here, 
 and some special services have been held, and a 
 few have come into the light. I was confined to 
 the house for the most part by illness, to my 
 great sorrow, and yet I ought to acknowledge 
 that I was about to run away for a little when 
 the Lord saw lit to lay me aside. And here in 
 my seclusion a new light dawned upon me, and I 
 am learning ways in which to work of which I 
 had not before dreamed. The work has been 
 commenced, and now I want, if possible, you 
 wiU come up here for a day or two, and help and 
 advise with me. Can you come ? We are go- 
 ing to open an evening school, and I have about 
 as much idea of how the thing should be done as 
 I have of the mysteries of a fashionable mUliner's 
 shop. Now, come up, and bring some ideas; 
 and if you cannot come possibly, then write me 
 just how you do these tilings. But if you can 
 make it plain to be your duty to come out here 
 and help a feeble worker in the cause of the dear 
 Master, why then come at once. The evening 
 
From Different Standpoints. 137 
 
 scliool is not the wliole of the plan, but the rest 
 will be unfolded in time. I am so filled with 
 joy when I think of the means which God has 
 put into my hands to use for his glory that I 
 only regret that I have so long held the trust as 
 a talent wrapped in a napMn. 
 
 Yours in Christ, Febry Hajbeison. 
 
12. 
 
 [PEOM EtTNICE's JOTJEJNAIi.j 
 
 We are living at Mgh pressure during tliese 
 days. The number of things wliich have been 
 accomplished since I last wrote here, if any one 
 were obliged to give thfim in detail, would fill a 
 volume. 
 
 In the first place — no, that is the second place. 
 Well, let me begin at the beginning, and give 
 the whole story. This journal of mine is a won- 
 derful comfort to me, after all ; it takes the place 
 of the innumerable letters I used to write to 
 Perry. I wonder what he has done with my let- 
 ters ? Journals are more endurable than people ; 
 they can't exasperate one with hateful words or 
 sneers or tosses, as Mrs. Eleanor constantly does, 
 and they can't distract one with trying to run a 
 dozen ideas at once, as Perry does. The begin- 
 ning was that Perry worked and worked over 
 that one idea until it really seemed to take such 
 possession of him that he could think of nothing 
 else. He has hired and furnished a room, and 
 138 
 
From Different Standpoints. 139 
 
 liad an opening gathering in it, and commenced 
 an evening school. Now I'll go back and give it 
 more slowly. 
 
 From the very beginning I had a great deal to 
 do with the enterprise. Perry seemed to think 
 as a matter of course that I was enlisted, and the 
 way he worked me showed his genius for com- 
 manding people, at least. Meantime Mrs. Elea- 
 nor worked him, in a ceaseless fever, to get him 
 off to New York. It was the very last place 
 where he should have gone. But she almost tor- 
 mented the life out of him ; at least it seemed to 
 me that she would. 
 
 Mother Harrison was in a perfect tremor of 
 anxiety, and at last she resolved on a bold 
 move, in which she took counsel of nobody, 
 though I know I get half the credit of it from 
 Mrs. Eleanor. The very day that we had done 
 the last things to the new hall (it isn't a store- 
 room or lumber-room anymore) preparatory to 
 our opening — I mean when I had done the last 
 things, for I was finally left to work alone. Perry 
 explaining with a very flushed face that Eleanor, 
 not understanding matters, had made an engage- 
 ment which it was imperatively necessary to 
 keep. I was very good-humored ; said, " Of 
 course," and that I could get along nicely. Didn't 
 I understand that he, poor victim, couldn't help 
 it ? I also understand that Mrs. Eleanor is very 
 
140 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 anxious that we two should quarrel, therefore I 
 will not quarrel with Perry. No, not if he does 
 aU the absurd things that there are left for him 
 to do. And he is ia a fair way for it. " Blessed- 
 are the peacemakers." Let Mrs. Perry have the 
 comfort of feeling that she is keeping the peace 
 between us. 
 
 When I got ready I locked the hall and went 
 over to Mother Harrison's. She entreated me to 
 stop to tea ; she didn't expect Perry and his ANofe 
 home until after tea, and she was worried about 
 his being out in the night air riding, and needed 
 my company, so she said. I wasn't hard to be 
 entreated ; in fact I saidT to myself as I locked 
 the door, that if she wanted me I would stay and 
 have tea. We were sitting cosUy over our cream- 
 toast, when Perry and his wife arrived, he look- 
 ing blue and cold, she looking disgusted. The 
 mother and I flew around to make them comfort- 
 able. 
 
 " I didn't expect you," the mother said. " El- 
 eanor seemed to think that you would take tea 
 with the Wilburs." 
 
 " I didn't dare, mother," Perry answered, and 
 his voice sounded hollow.' " The night is setting 
 in so damp and foggy I felt that I ought to be at 
 home." 
 
 Then his wife gave that disagreeable little 
 laugh of hers, and said to his mother : 
 
From Different Standpoints. 141 
 
 " You ought to pat him on the back, and say 
 ' Good boy.' He is improving so rapidly under 
 your tuition! I dare say he will be ready for a 
 glass case soon ! " 
 
 What any of us would have answered to that 
 heartless speech is more than I know, had not a 
 diversion occurred. But in the meantime the 
 door-bell had rung ; there was a bustle in the 
 hall, and presently there walked in, unannounced, 
 two gentlemen. Perry and his mother looked, 
 and exclaimed, and sprang forward in greeting, 
 Perry exclaiming : 
 
 " Oh, Romaine, this is so good of you ! " While 
 at the same time, his mother said : 
 
 " Dr. Mason ! This is more than I had dared 
 to hope." 
 
 It transpired that the mother, in her great anx- 
 iety over her son's condition, had written to 
 Dr. Mason asking his advice about New York 
 air, which letter he had answered in person. 
 
 " I am on my way to a medical convocation of 
 importance," he explained, " and I stopped over 
 one train." 
 
 " Young man, I'd hke to see you alone for 
 about fifteen minutes, and have a talk with you." 
 This to Perry. 
 
 It resulted in their almost immediate adjourn- 
 ment to his room. Mrs. Eleanor was asked to 
 accompany them, but declined, on the plea that 
 
142 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 she was cold, so she waited theix return in 
 haughty silence, while the elder Mrs. Harrison 
 ordered fresh tea and toast, and I tried to enter- 
 tain Mr. Romaine. 
 
 When the gentlemen returned Dr. Mason ad- 
 dressed himself at once to Perry's wife : 
 
 " Madam, it is my misfortune to be obliged to 
 step in, very often, and upset the happiness of 
 families, or their plans, which in some instances 
 amounts to their happiness. Now I have to tell 
 you that you must keep your husband away from 
 New York this spring. The city is at its nas- 
 tiest. Just at present not a desirable place for 
 any one, mud and rain alternating, or rather 
 mingling, in delightful stickiness and mistiness. 
 He is not in a condition to travel, nor in a condi- 
 tion to breathe city air with benefit, if he could 
 travel. Moreover, he needs to avoid the salt air 
 entirely — mind, I say entirely — during this spring 
 and summer. It goes against me to forbid his 
 coming in my vicinity ; I should like a dab at 
 him and a chance for a fee ; but in justice to my 
 conscience I shall be obliged to forego those plea- 
 sures. If my advice were asked further, I should 
 say a quiet sojourn in a delightful country home 
 like this, with a chance to breathe pure air, and 
 with a day now and then of unmitigated sun- 
 sliine, and a green landscape about him, was the 
 place for him, through the spring, and at least 
 
From Different Standpoints. 143 
 
 the early summer. Now, dear madam, give me 
 a cup of your tea, and then I must be off again." 
 
 This last sentence addressed to the mother. 
 And so absorbed was he in that cup of tea that ap- 
 parently he lost entirely the smoothly-rounded 
 sentences of the wife. 
 
 " I am sure. Dr. Mason, we ought to be very 
 much obliged to you for flying down here and 
 assisting at the burial of ourselves in this out-of- 
 the-way place. Not only for the spring, but the 
 summer ! It was very thoughtful in Mr. Harri- 
 son's mother to plan such a delightful surprise ; 
 she really deserves a vote of thanks. The place 
 is quiet enough, certainly ; neither is there any 
 lack of green things, if that is important." 
 
 I haven't patience to tell you about the rest of 
 that evening; and, besides, I feel such a queer 
 sense of mortification for Perry, when I think of 
 it, that I find I don't want to dwell on it. But 
 the question of New York is certainly settled, 
 and, for the mother's sake, I am glad. No one 
 ventures to dispute Dr. Mason's orders. "XVe 
 walked home in the fog, Mr. Romaine and I ; he 
 talking about the new enterprise, and apparently 
 taking it for granted that I was enlisted in it, 
 body and soul. 
 
 "It is a splendid thing," he said, "not only 
 for the physical and intellectual. Mr. Harrison 
 will never be contented to stop with those. It is 
 
144 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 grand to see such talents and such wealth as his 
 consecrated, isn't it? " 
 
 What was I to say ? 
 
 " It is nice to see him occupied with something 
 that interests and amuses him," I said. " He 
 has been wretchedly sick again, and, unless he 
 has some hobby to ride, his soul will eat up his 
 body ; therefore I am helping. But it is a wild 
 idea, all the same. When it began it was rea- 
 sonable enough ; it was to be a pleasant room to 
 sit in, and there was to be a place for refresh- 
 ments on a cheap scale. But this night-school 
 business, and classes, and all sorts of things, I 
 don't know about ; or, rather, I do know — I think 
 it is folly. They are well enough off, as regards 
 their learning. What is the use of their being 
 educated ? What will they do with their educa- 
 tion?" 
 
 Don't be stupid enough, journal, to suppose 
 that I meant a word of this ; it savors too much 
 of Mrs. Eleanor's style for me to say it, even if I 
 thought it. I don't mean to say it on all occa- 
 sions, but I felt just like getting up an argument 
 with this man, to hear Mm talk. I might as 
 well have tried to argue with the gate-post. 
 
 "A place of refreshments!" he said, "what 
 do you mean ? " 
 
 And he actually made me enter into details of 
 that idea of mine, and explain how this could be. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 145 
 
 and that, and finally declared that the idea was a 
 good one, and should be carried out at once in a 
 certain place that he knew of, whether we did it 
 here or not. Perhaps he did not even hear what 
 I had said about not believing in the other ideas ; 
 at least he ignored it. 
 
 The first evening at the hall was funny — some 
 of it. They came out wonderfiilly well, the boys 
 and girls and their fathers and mothers. But 
 Perry had previously made the blunder of invit- 
 ing the minister, and the doctor, and Judge Col- 
 man, and Esquire Fenton, in, to make some re- 
 marks. He says he wUl be chary of " remarks " 
 in the future. They said the most idiotic things ! 
 You wouldn't have supposed that one of them 
 had a grain of sense. Mr. Watson, in the pul- 
 pit, is a sensible enough man, but he knew no 
 more how to talk to these people than if he had 
 lived in a dictionary all liis life, and just stepped 
 out that evening to look around. I don't think 
 there were ten words, leaving out the conjunc- 
 tions and prepositions, that were understood by 
 those to whom his speech was addressed. He tried 
 to pat them all on the head, metaphorically, and suc- 
 ceeded ; at least they felt about as flat as though 
 he had. Esquire Fenton was pompous and pat- 
 ronizing to the last degree ; said " My dear 
 friends " every two seconds, and wanted them to 
 try to realize what these self-sacrificing people 
 
146 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 had been doing for them, and how the " dear 
 young brother " had spent money as freely as 
 water in their behalf, and was willing to " spend 
 and be spent" for them. 
 
 Poor Perry gnawed his moustache and wiped 
 the perspiration from his forehead, and looked 
 despairingly at Mr. Romaine, who stood with 
 folded arms, leaning against a post, for there 
 really was not a vacant seat in the room, though 
 it is quite a large one. As for me, I laughed ; it 
 was all so absurd ! Gathering those men and 
 women up there and talking to them as if they 
 were third-rate pieces of putty, because thej 
 worked in a factory ! 
 
 Esquire Fenton got through at last, which is a 
 wonder, for he is one of those who possess the 
 " gift of continuance " to an alarming degree. 
 Then Mr. Romaine sprang up the steps of the 
 little platform, as though he was very eager to 
 speak ; and I think he was. 
 
 Dear me ! Why can't men be more alike, or 
 more unlike, or something ? Why should this 
 mechanic be superior to those cultured men of 
 society? Superior, not in words, but in that 
 rare and subtle and indescribable thing which we 
 name tact? His words were few, and simple, 
 but spoken with such quiet earnestness, and com- 
 mon-senseness, that he won the attention and the 
 heart at once. In the very midst of his talk, or, 
 
From Different Standpoints. 147 
 
 ratlier, while one was fearing tliat he was going 
 to finish the talk and begin a set speech, he said : 
 " Now let us have a song together," and instantly 
 his rich, full voice seemed to fill the room. He 
 sang a familiar hymn, with a chorus that those to 
 whom it was not familiar covild catch at the sec- 
 ond hearing ; and certainly they joined as if they 
 were glad to do so. Then he prayed. He has a 
 way of praying as though he were sure that the 
 Lord heard every sentence, and he succeeded in 
 making me feel so, too. 
 
 " Grand man ! " Perry said of him the next 
 morning, when we were talking the matter over, 
 and actually there were tears in his eyes ! He 
 does get up such an enthusiasm for people. 
 
 " What a wonderful way he has of winning 
 hearts," Perry continued, and then he propounded 
 the same thought over which I have been whin- 
 ing : " I wonder what made such a difference be- 
 tween his talk and the talk 'of those others ? " 
 
 His wife explained it to her entire satisfac- 
 tion : 
 
 " He is one of them. Perry ; he comes from the 
 scum himself, and therefore can easily accommo- 
 date himself to their comprehensions. I think 
 that is simple enough." 
 
 Now, Perry is rarely dignified to his wife ; he 
 can answer me haughtily enough when he thinks 
 I have said something very foolish; in fact it 
 
148 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 reaches the realm of actual snubbing sometimes 
 (I rejoice in that word, it is so expressiTc), and 
 he can, in a gentle, entirely dutiful, but wonder- 
 fully effective way, put down his mother, when 
 occasion requires ; but Queen Eleanor is allowed, 
 as a rule, to think that every word of hers is 
 well chosen ; at least, so far as I can see, and for 
 aught I know, he thinks so. But that day she 
 jarred. His voice was calm enough, but the tone 
 was cold. 
 
 " I was wondering rather, Eleanor, how it was 
 that his words suited me exactly ; the very in- 
 most depths of my heart were stirred, and the 
 words of those other men did not move me." 
 
 " There is no accounting for tastes," Mrs. El- 
 eanor said in her most supercilious tone. And 
 Perry answered in his very coldest ones : 
 
 " I find that to be true." 
 
 As for me, I had the strangest mixture of feel- 
 ing during this little conjugal aside. A wicked 
 sense of satisfaction in seeing that Perry had 
 brains enough left to know when a friend, to 
 whom he was extending hospitality, was insidted, 
 and a real pang at the thought that his idol was 
 soiled before him. Poor Perry ! 
 
 Well, we have our school fairly under way ; 
 not with a salaried teacher, according to Perry's 
 first notion. Mr. Romaine scoffed at that. 
 
 " Where will you find him, or her ? " he asked. 
 
I'rom different Standpoints. 149 
 
 " Teachers who are willing to accept payment 
 are of course easily found. But vhat you want, 
 in this enterprise, is soul — a heart bursting with 
 a desire to do good in just this new and difficult 
 line that is open. Such teachers there are, 
 doubtless, who ought to be paid, and who would 
 do good work for pay, but they have to be hunted 
 for, and sometimes the hunt takes long. Mean- 
 time here is the field white to harvest. "Where 
 are the laborers ? " 
 
 " What shall we do, then ? " Perry asked, ner- 
 vously. 
 
 He has thrown his whole soul into tliis enter- 
 prise, and if it fails I am afraid it will break his 
 heart. 
 
 " I should advise classes," Mr. Romaine said, 
 " somewhat after the industrial-school style. Leb 
 Miss Taylor, here, take a class of boys, and Mrs. 
 Harrison perhaps would take the older girls." 
 This with an inquiring glance at Eleanor, who 
 answered in her haughtiest tones : 
 
 " I prefer none. I haven't been educated for 
 a school-teacher, and my talents do not lie in that 
 direction. I have nothing whatever to do with 
 this enterprise. You may count me out." 
 
 "I will take a class of girls," Perry said, 
 quietly. And JMrs. Eleanor, I think, realized 
 that she had overreached herself. I am sure it 
 had not once before occurred to her husband that 
 
150 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 lie coiild actually give personal attention to class- 
 es. However, lie held to it, and was obstinate 
 when Ilia mother ventured an argument on the 
 plea of health, and put me down sharply when I 
 tried to second her. His wife said absolutely 
 nothing. 
 
 So we have our classes. Mine amazes me — 
 appalls me ! There are nine boys in it ; great, 
 rough, uncouth fellows. They don't know what 
 to do with their hands or their feet ; and so they 
 shuffle the one and make all sorts of uncouth 
 disposals of the others. 
 
 " What shall I teach them first ? The Twenty- 
 third Psalm ? " I asked Mr. Romaine one even- 
 ing "^vheii we were first organized, and I shall 
 have to own that I asked it with a supercilious 
 air, worthy of Mrs. Eleanor herseK, and a wicked 
 desire to make fun of the whole thing, or appear 
 to. His answer was prompt and quiet : 
 
 " By all means, if you can do it tlirough your 
 life. They are not quite ready for the verbal 
 teaching yet. I should first attempt a lesson 
 on the art of keepiDg finger-nails in order, or 
 something of that sort, with those who need that 
 kind of help." 
 
 " I thought cleanliness was next to godliness," 
 I said, conscious that I was being very silly, and 
 yet not seeing my way out into sense. 
 
 " It is — the very next," he said. " And you 
 
From Different Standpoints, 151 
 
 have doubtless discovered that the ' next things ' 
 sometimes have to be brought forward as though 
 they were ' first things.' " 
 
 I tlaiuk I shall make a queer teacher. This is 
 the way I began : 
 
 " Boys," I said, sitting down before them, and 
 every one of them was grinning (that is just the 
 word that expresses it) and nudging each other's 
 elbows and shuffling each other's feet, " if you 
 had each five dollars to put in the savings-bank, 
 and it would draw five per cent, interest, how 
 much money would you have if you left it there 
 fifty years ? " 
 
 They stared at me. I tliink they had an idea 
 that I was going to ask them if they could spell 
 " baker," and knew the Lord's Prayer, and would 
 each like a card to keep, with " thou shalt not 
 steal " printed on it. They looked as though 
 they were in expectation of something of that 
 sort. Then one of them, Dan Baker by name, 
 answered me, and if I am not mistaken in him 
 the answer is an index of the boy : 
 
 " What difference does it make how much it 
 would be ? " 
 
 " If you were to have the money after it had 
 lain there multiplying itself for fifty years, 
 wouldn't it make a difference ? " 
 
 " No danger of that," he said, shrugging his 
 shoulders. 
 
152 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 " I don't see how you can be sure of any such 
 thing. You are not so old but that you may live 
 for fifty years, and you certainly may be able to 
 earn five dollars to put on interest." 
 
 "What is interest, anyhow?" Joe Stoner 
 asked. " I mean, how can people afford to pay 
 interest on money ? " 
 
 They all regarded me curiously, evidently in- 
 terested in the question. And I then and there 
 explained to them, to the best of my ability, the 
 laws of borrowing and lending in money matters. 
 My abihty, in that line at least, is not remark- 
 able, and I floundered once, and called on Perry 
 to help. He explained briefly, but very clearly, 
 and with an air of surprise over the turn that af- 
 fairs had taken in my class, and then went back 
 to his work, setting me down, I dare say, as a 
 very strange teacher. 
 
 But the boys acted as though they might have 
 begun to have a dawning feeling of respect for 
 me; I fancy they thought I considered myself 
 very wise, and were rather gratified to see that I 
 was not above an appeal to Perry. I set every 
 one of them to work calculating the sum that 
 five dollars would earn in fifty years, at five per 
 cent, compound interest. Of course they knew 
 nothing about the laws of computation, but I 
 waited to see what the law of common-sense 
 would do. Not one of them reached the right 
 
From Different Standpoints, 153 
 
 solufion save Dan Baker, and his somewhat sul- 
 len face flushed rosy red over the information 
 that he was correct. The amount of the sum 
 seemed to amaze them all. And whatever is or 
 is not developed by our evening school, in my 
 opinion savings bank accounts wiU be startlingly 
 on the increase. 
 
 Although my class and I had a good time, we 
 were as unsystematic and rambling as possible. 
 But next time we are going to do better ; we are 
 to select and read any article of interest that we 
 find in the papers. I am anxious to see the se- 
 lections. 
 
 I am curious over Perry's class ; he was eager 
 and absorbed, and they were very attentive, but 
 he volunteered no information concerning them, 
 and went home alone with a grave, preoccupied 
 face. 
 
13. 
 
 Perry writes, May 15 : 
 
 We are fairly under way. It is too soon to 
 look for result, but we have started out better 
 than I could have hoped. 
 
 Romaine — what a prince among men he is ! 
 ' He came up in response to *my letter and spent 
 several days, helping us in organizing, etc., and 
 now we are quite in working order. The work- 
 ers are few in number, but perhaps others may 
 come to the front in time. Eleanor does not fall 
 in with our ideas as yet, but I am certain to in- 
 terest her after a while. As the work goes on, 
 she must see it in another light. The atmosphere 
 of fashionable life, which she has breathed all her 
 days, is not conducive to the development and 
 growth of human sympathies. 
 
 Una is an efficient helper, though I have thought 
 that her interest grew out of a deske to gratify 
 me, rather than from a longing to help others. 
 At least so it seemed at first ; but I think that 
 she is becoming quite eager in her wish to help 
 those boys of hers. They already begin to look 
 154 
 
From Different Standpoints. 155 
 
 up to her, and to quote her as authority. Only 
 this morning one of them assured me that a cer- 
 tain thing was so and sq — ^for Miss Taylor said 
 so. My little lady will have need to be cautious 
 as to the opinions she advances, if the boys are 
 going to rest so implicitly on her word. The 
 other evening I was coming out from the city by 
 train. As we reached our station, Joe Stone 
 boarded the train, and bought two or three pa- 
 pers of the newsboy on the platform. I wondered 
 a little, especially as he did not invest in the 
 trashy papers that a boy of his class might very 
 naturaUy be supposed to be interested in, but 
 took one of the best of the New York dailies, 
 and a first-class weekly of our own city. 
 
 Someway Thomas had misunderstood me, and 
 failed to meet the train ; so I walked home. 
 Starting out, I said : 
 
 " Well, Joe, I am going your road a little way. 
 Shall I have your company ? " 
 
 For answer Joe stared at me ; but we walked 
 along together, and I remarked : 
 
 " I think you are one of Miss Taylor's boys ? " 
 
 "Zes, sir!" he replied, with more emphasis 
 than politeness. 
 
 " Do you have pretty good times in that class ? " 
 
 " I tell you we do ! " 
 
 " What are you doing with so many papers ? 
 Have you turned newsboy ? " 
 
156 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 " Oil, no — some of these are for the boys. I 
 only keeps one. You see Miss Taylor she asked 
 us would we pick out suthin' we liked, and bring 
 it to the class, and then she said we'd talk .about 
 it, and she'd tell us all she could. So you see 
 we have to have city papers, 'cause you know 
 there ain't nothing in the Nassau paper worth 
 taldng in." 
 
 I could not help laughing at this youngster's 
 disparaging criticism upon our enterprising 
 weekly. 
 
 " Well, what do you find that is worth talking 
 over ? " I asked, curious to know what tliis novel 
 method of teaching brought forth. 
 
 " Well, you see, sir, we can't any of us make 
 head nor tail out of a good deal that's in the pa- 
 pers ; but some things we can get hold of enough 
 to talk about. You know, sir, that a fellow has 
 to know something afore he can take in what is 
 told to him. I think it is like you have to have 
 a standing place when you are going to tackle 
 any kind of a job. So you see we don't get into 
 the big pieces yet, but pick out some of the bits 
 that we find in the corners. Last time I found 
 this." 
 
 And Joe fumbled in his pockets, shifting his 
 papers from one arm to the other, until he brought 
 out a rumpled bit of paper, which he handed to 
 me. It was a scrap entitled "Something for 
 
From Different Standpoints. 157 
 
 Boys to Remember," being one of those bits of 
 advice to boys which fill up the odd spaces in 
 the paper, and which seldom find readers ; and 
 perhaps it was only because Joe Stone must find 
 something that he clipped it from his paper. 
 
 " Well," I said, " that is good. But what did 
 Miss Taylor say about it ? " 
 
 " Why, she said there was never anything 
 truer than them words. She says it is the man 
 or boy that drives right along that succeeds, and 
 that laziness makes half the villains in the world ; 
 that it is because so many people want to live 
 without honestly working for a living that makes 
 them cheats and liars and thieves. And I guess 
 she's right." 
 
 " And so you mean to make a man of your- 
 self ? " I said, at the corner, where his path led 
 one way and mine another ; and Joe answered, 
 with a beaming look : 
 
 "Well, maybe." 
 
 " And how about the rest of your class ? " 
 
 " Oh, they all brought something. Some of 
 them were real cute. Dan Baker — he's the sort 
 of a fellow as always says, ' What's the use ? ' — 
 but he brought in something. I didn't 'spose he 
 would, but he likes Miss Taylor first-rate. I ex- 
 pect he will keep on coming." 
 
 I noticed that the boy hesitated, as if he had 
 something more to say ; and at last it came out. 
 
158 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 "Miss Taylor told us about savings banks, 
 and I've got sixty cents saved up toward my 
 dollar ! " 
 
 "Have you? Well, that's good. I'm glad 
 you've made a beginning." 
 
 Tlien we said good-nigbt, and he ran off with 
 a springy step, born, I'm sure, of that sixty cents 
 and the prospect of a bank account. 
 
 Well , I don't know but Eunice has started out 
 right. Once get them upon the upward grade, 
 with a hope before them, and there's little fear of 
 their falling back to old ways. The glow of an 
 ambition is already lighting up that boy's face. 
 And he will never have a dollar which will be 
 worth half so much to him as the first savings 
 bank investment. It is a first step toward the 
 development of that boy's capacities. If Una 
 can get a hold upon their hearts, and kindle in 
 their brains a flame of ambition, and light up 
 their future with hopes, it will be a great work. 
 Even this is worth aU the money and care ex- 
 pended. Now, if only she could lead them 
 higher — if she could inspire them with the very 
 highest of all aspirations — ^if she would come her- 
 self to the fountain ! Strange that the daughter 
 of such a father should stop short of the crowning 
 glory of a woman's life. The love of Christ shin- 
 ing out, softening the sharp angles of her charac- 
 ter, is all she needs to make her a very queen 
 
From Different Standpoints. 159 
 
 among women — fit to rank beside my own peerless 
 Eleanor. Poor Eleanor ! I am sorry for her. Dr. 
 Mason, with his insuperable decrees, has laid a shad- 
 ow across her path, which I have not been able to lift. 
 I am so dull and uncompanionable nowadays that 
 I have no doubt she finds me a stupid fellow to 
 have around ; and I do not wonder that she sighs 
 for the delights of New York. Una runs over 
 almost every day, and lights up the old house. 
 She is becoming almost a necessity to Eleanor. 
 I presume that the two are even now puzzling 
 over the last new stitch, as described in the Ba- 
 zar. Well, I am glad that the two ai'e good 
 friends. Eleanor is sometimes a little sarcastic, 
 but Una seems not to mind it haK as much as 
 she does my frowns. 
 
 There, I forgot. I meant to ask Eleanor to go 
 down to the hall with me to-morrow morning, 
 and put some of her work upon the blackboard. 
 I want to illustrate my lessons by means of some 
 diagrams, and neither Una nor myself have the 
 skill to sketch a three-legged stool. But my wife 
 is something of an artist, and, if I can persuade 
 her to work in cheap crayons, I shall have made 
 an advance in the direction in which I am anxious 
 to move. 
 
 As to my own evening class, they puzzle me. 
 I didn't begin, like Una, by plunging into busi- 
 ness calculations, but we were about as informal 
 
160 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 and rambling, that first evening, as we could well 
 be. I said : 
 
 " Now, if we are going to meet together regu- 
 larly, let's get acquainted as soon as we can. I 
 shall have a great many tilings to tell you, and I 
 expect that you will have a great many to tell 
 me. I shall want to know what you do with 
 what I teach you, and you will have to be look- 
 ing out for chances to use the knowledge you 
 gain for the good of others. So you see while I 
 teach you, you will be teaching me, and we shall 
 all, in turn, be able to help somebody else. Do 
 you see ? " 
 
 The}'' hung their heads, and looked as shy and 
 awkward as it is possible for uncultured girls, of 
 twelve years, to look ; but one of them ventured 
 to raise her eyes to mine, and I said : 
 
 " What is it ? " 
 
 " Nothing ; only I don't think we could teach 
 you much." 
 
 " Don't you ? Well, we shall see." 
 
 A vase of spring flowers stood on the table near 
 us, and, as we talked, I had taken the vase in my 
 hand, and, turning it around to admire the dainty 
 blossoms, I said : 
 
 " I wonder where these came from ? " 
 
 " Oh, I can teU you ! " said the girl who had 
 already spoken, and whose name is Emma Cole. 
 " I found them over on the hills, and gave them 
 
From Different Standpoints. 161 
 
 to Miss Taylor, and she fixed 'em up. I think 
 they are real pretty." 
 
 "So they are. Can you tell me the names of 
 them ? " 
 
 Now I am fond of flowers, but I can never re- 
 member the names of even the commonest ones. 
 Emma's face was a study. The idea that any 
 one should be so deplorably ignorant as not to 
 know the names of the simple flowers which were 
 as familiar as Greek roots to a college professor. 
 
 " Why, don't you know ? That is the May- 
 flower ! We always get them in the spring. 
 They grow over on the hUl. I think that is the 
 only place around here where you can find them. 
 The way I learnt about them was, a lady, an 
 artist, they call her — one that paints pictures, 
 you know — came out from the city one spring, 
 and she came to get these flowers. She said 
 somebody telled her as how they growed out on 
 the hills, and she wanted some to make pictures 
 of. And I went with her to show her, and she 
 telled me lots about flowers. I wish I could re- 
 member it all. But I never forgot the name, 
 'cause the lady herself looked like a Mayflower." 
 
 All at once Emma became conscious that she 
 was talking considerably, and drew back, blush- 
 ing. 
 
 " Well," I said, " I am very much obliged to 
 you for telling me about these flowers. You see 
 
162 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 you Jiave taught me something before I have 
 even begun my lesson. And now I vs^ill tell you 
 about these Mayflowers — why they are named so 
 — and then we will study these cards which I 
 have brought." 
 
 Thereupon I gave them a lesson in history, 
 telling them the story of the Pilgrims and the 
 Mayflower, making it as much of a story, and as 
 little of a history, as I could. We all grew eager 
 and absorbed in it, and one of my little girls, 
 drawing a long breath, exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, wasn't it awful to lose all one's friends 
 and cross the ocean ! I couldn't do it, ever, no 
 way ! " 
 
 Could I resist the impulse to tell them another 
 story — the story of Him who left home, and the 
 host of shining angels, to enter upon a life of 
 sorrow, and meet a death that was beyond the 
 starvation and the savage butchery of the In- 
 dians in suffering and ignominy ? So, beginning 
 with the grand old chorus of the angels, and end- 
 ing with that resurrection morning, I rehearsed 
 the old story, and, at the close, one of the class, 
 Hattie Stone, said : 
 
 " I like that last stor}^ the best. Don't you, 
 girls?" 
 
 " Now," I said, " I have told you this story be- 
 cause it concerns you and me. It is to help 5'ou 
 to grow into the likeness of this Friend that we 
 
From Different Standpoints. 163 
 
 have begun these classes. It should be the end 
 of all our living to get ready to live with Him, 
 and the more we learn the better we shall be fit- 
 ted for it. Let us alv/ays have first in mind and 
 heart this thought, that we belong to Christ, and 
 are to do all our work, and all our studj', for his 
 honor." 
 
 I knew, or thought I knew, that I was getting 
 beyond their depth, but I did not know how to 
 do any better. 
 
 But that some idea had entered their heads 
 was evident from the question of Hattie Stone : 
 
 " Do you mean that the Christ you say we 
 should work for is the same Christ they preach 
 about on Sundays ? I never heard them much 
 of a Sunday, but I have heard 'em talk at funer- 
 als." 
 
 " I mean the same one." 
 
 " And do you mean that, if we get the lessons 
 you give us, and do our work all honest at 
 the factory, that it will make a difference to 
 Him?" 
 
 " Yes, I mean that." 
 
 " Well," said Hattie, " I like that. It is nice 
 to think that somebody cares." 
 
 Hattie settled back in her se3t, and betook her- 
 self to the study of some cards Avhich I had 
 brought. Having ascertained that all my class 
 could read a little, we made arrangements for the 
 
l64 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 next evening's lessons,< and then it was time to 
 close. 
 
 I am not sure that I am not making a failure. 
 Someway I can not make an altogether secular 
 thing of it. I can not rid myself of the impres- 
 sion that their souls need my first care. And, 
 while I know Una is wise in leading her boys, by 
 natural and easy steps, up so a higher plane, I 
 can not help longing to lift my girls at once out 
 of the darkness, and set them upon the sure foun- 
 dation. I do know, of my own experience, that 
 all knowledge seems clearer when viewed in the 
 light of Christian faith, and this is why I want 
 to begin with giving them some knowledge of the 
 truth. 
 
 My mind is full of schemes. I have already 
 made arrangements to open lunch-rooms. We 
 shall, for the present, have coffee and sandwiches, 
 with perhaps pie and doughnut, and, later, as the 
 warm weather comes on, we shall have ice-cream, 
 and, very likely, fruits. I have written to Ro- 
 maine to find some person who understands the 
 cream business, who wiU come out for a. time ; 
 but I have in mind a suitable person to take 
 charge of the whole concern, after a little train- 
 ing. It is a widow, who is not strong enough for 
 factory work, and who seems a nice sort of a per- 
 son, and would, I think, be glad to get a chance 
 to do something toward supporting herself. Not 
 
From Different Standpoints. 165 
 
 that I imagine that the business will be very- 
 profitable, at first, but it may work into some- 
 thing. 
 
 Then, to go farther, there is the project of keep- 
 ing the hall open as a reading-room, but perhaps 
 it will be best to wait until fall for that. It may 
 not do to run too many new ideas at once. 
 
 All this time mother looks on curiously, while 
 Eleanor prophesies that we shall come to 
 naught. Perhaps so ; but we shall have tried to 
 do something, and I can not think that our efforts 
 win fall to the ground utterly worthless. 
 
14. 
 
 [PEOM ethshce's jotienal.J 
 
 That Joe Stone is going to be a nuisance. I 
 shall have to choke him if he makes trouble be- 
 tween Perry and me. I might have known that 
 I couldn't work in company with such a' sensitive 
 conscience as Perry has lately developed. There 
 is a sort of third-rate theatre in town — ^no, I am 
 not sure that it is tliird-rate. People who are 
 posted in regard to such things say it is a very 
 decent affair ; not at all behind most of the collo- 
 quies that are performed in our public schools. 
 Now, I have been brought up not to go to the- 
 atres, either first or third-class, and I fancy that 
 this one, at least, would hardly be to my taste, 
 but Joe Stone has not been so brought up ; in- 
 deed, he has not been brought up at all. He has 
 come up, in the most helter-skelter fashion. The- 
 atres are not beneath him, even though they were 
 much lower in stamp than this one. He talked 
 with me about going. He wanted to go " like 
 blazes ! " he said. He is not remarkably refined 
 in his language. But, then, he was " savin of " 
 160 
 
From Different Standpoints. 167 
 
 his money for that bank account, and he didn't 
 know as I would think it just the tiling to spend 
 it in any such way. What did I think about it ? 
 
 Well, I am of an economical disposition, and it 
 seemed important to me that Joe should learn to 
 save his money, so I counseled wisely and pru- 
 dently; and Joe, with a long-drawn sigh that 
 showed how much seK-denial he had, and how 
 much influence I am getting over him, relin- 
 quished the idea of the play, and settled himself 
 to the sum in addition that I had given him. All 
 would have gone well had not accident and folly 
 put me in a position to play Lady Bountiful. It 
 happened on the very next evening that Lou 
 Parsons dropped in to spend a social hour. He 
 was gayly complimenting our little town on the 
 number and variety of entertainments which it 
 could boast, and drew from his pocket a shower 
 of blue and yellow tickets, in order to count the 
 number of ways in which he had been favored 
 during the last two or three weeks. I, looking 
 on, made this silly remark : 
 
 " It must be fun to be employed in a business 
 that, according to etiquette, demands free tickets 
 to everytliing under the sun. I wonder if there 
 isn't a vacancy in the printing office ? I could 
 learn to set type, I am sure. Would that entitle 
 me to free tickets ? I should really like some." 
 Whereupon he immediately produced from 
 
168 JE'rom Different StandpointB, 
 
 another pocket two crisp tickets for the said the- 
 atre, and with a very low bow presented them to 
 me, with his compliments, saying, with a solemn 
 air, that he thought perhaps I would like to 
 choose a companion to accompany me, therefore 
 allow him to present two. Of course he knows 
 that I never attend such places any more than he 
 does himself. He is a good, prosy young man, 
 and, so far as his conscience on these subjects is 
 concerned, is quite equal to Perry .himself, though 
 what is reasonable enough in Perry is perhaps 
 foolish in him. The traveling theatre is, of 
 course, miles beneath Perry's mental calibre, but 
 I should-think might afford an evening of inno- 
 cent enough amusement to Lou Parsons. How- 
 ever, I was very glad to get the tickets, for there 
 suddenly flashed before me Joe Stone's wistful 
 face and his expressive, if not elegant sentence, 
 that he wanted to go "like blazes ! " Here was 
 a chance for him ; a chance, also, to teach him a 
 lesson in brotherly courtesies, for I had no doubt 
 that his little sister Hattie wanted to go also, if 
 not " like blazes," then with all the force of her 
 pretty, pink-cheeked strength. That child is 
 wonderfully pretty, and has a sort of native grace 
 that is very fascinating. She is in Perry's class, 
 and I like to watch her. There is a girlish friend- 
 ship between her and my rough Dan. I mean to 
 watch it. Perry calls all his class " little girls," 
 
From Different Standpoints. 169 
 
 and, from some of his expressions, I think he 
 considers them all about twelve years old. That 
 is as much as a man knows ! Because they don't 
 do their hair in frightful knots on the top of their 
 heads, and wear dresses that he steps on every 
 time he moves, he thinks they are little girls. 
 There isn't one of them younger than fourteen, 
 and this little Hattie is nearly, if not quite, six- 
 teen ; though she is so small and slight that it is 
 not strange he should take her for much younger. 
 
 Well, I gave my tickets to Joe, with the hint 
 that now he had a chance to show his brotherly 
 consideration and make Hattie happy. The. in- 
 tense delight in his ej^es, as he said : " Miss Tay- 
 lor, you are just a brick ; that's what you are ! " 
 was so genuine a compliment that I hardly had 
 the heart to remind him that " brick " was not 
 an elegant term to apply to a lady. I took the 
 tickets to him in the factory, and went home from 
 there in a most satisfied frame of mind. I had 
 excused Joe from evening class, and assured him 
 that no doubt Mr. Harrison would excuse Hattie ; 
 but he would better go and see him, for that gen- 
 tleman wants the classes to be very particular to 
 get excused when they need to be absent. He 
 wants to keep everything in business-like shape. 
 
 Imagine my surprise when, at the usual hour 
 for school, he shuffled in, cheeks burning red and 
 downcast eyes. My first thought was that he 
 
170 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 had lost the tickets. I turned to him eagerly, 
 but he hung his head, and muttered his explana- 
 tion in such a way that I had to lean toward him 
 to make any sense of it. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Taylor, you won't think I didn't 
 like them, 'cause I did, very much ; and I tliink 
 it is all bosh, just as you do ; but then he is real 
 good to Hattie, and he has helped father keep his 
 place, and so I don't like to, you know. But it's 
 awful silly, and mean, too." 
 
 " Joe, what on earth are you talking about ? " 
 I asked him. With his face growing redder 
 every minxxte he muttered : 
 
 " Why, the tickets, you know. I went to him 
 just as you said, and he didn't like it at all ; 
 talked a long time about them low theatres, not 
 wanting me to take Hattie there, and being dis- 
 appointed, and all that. And I couldn't, you 
 know, could I, after all he has done ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " I said, enlightened suddenly. " You 
 mean Mr. Harrison didn't want you to go to the 
 theatre. Of course j-ou were not to go unless 
 you chose. I dare say you did right to please 
 Mr. Harrison. He has done a great deal for you ; 
 he is worthy of being pleased." 
 
 At the same time I was boiling with rage. 
 What right had Perry Harrison to interfere with 
 my scholars and my plans for their development ? 
 If he is going to manage things in that way he 
 
From Different Standpoints. 171 
 
 may teacli his own classes. I shall desert him, 
 and I shall tell him so the first opportunity. 
 
 Eunice Taylor's next opportunity to speak her 
 mind to Perry Harrison was on the next after- 
 noon. She went over to the Harrison mansion 
 by appointment with Perry's wife, and found him 
 alone in the library, his wife not having com- 
 pleted her afternoon toilet. He did not wait for 
 her to speak her mind ; evidently his heart was 
 full of the subject. 
 
 " Oh, Eunice," he said, " what could have be- 
 come of youj good sense ? Is it possible you 
 thought it was wise to teach Joe Stone to waste 
 his time and money on third-class theatrical 
 amusements ? Such teaching would hardly do 
 credit to our new enterprise." 
 
 Now, if Mr. Harrison had known it, there were 
 wiser ways of broaching such a subject than he 
 had chosen ; it made Eunice's eyes glow. 
 
 " Indeed, Perry," she said, " I'm glad you men- 
 tioned that. Do you know I think you are inter- 
 fering with my class in an unpardonable manner ? 
 If I'm to teach them I must have Hberty to teach 
 what I think and not what you think. If you 
 want the class yourself, why take them by all 
 means. But if you want me to keep them you 
 must let them alone." 
 
 " Why, Una ! " amazed by her words, and 
 
172 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 still more by her tones. " I don't know you to- 
 day ; I thought you desired my advice and help 
 in youx work? You have told me so, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " Advice is very different from interference. 
 / don't think it would have been an unpardon- 
 able sin for Joe Stone to have taken his sister 
 and gone to the hall the other evening. I am 
 not a saint, like you, and therefore I have no such 
 wholesale condemnation for play actors, as you 
 good Christian people seem to think it is your 
 duty to feel. I dare say they are as respectable 
 as the rest of us. Anyway, I should risk poor 
 Joe being harmed by an evening's entertainment 
 of the sort, especially when he wasted no money 
 on it ; I took care of that." 
 
 "I know," said Perry, stopping in his walk 
 up and down the room. " You were kiud 
 enough to give him tickets, and I have no doubt 
 with the best intentions ; but, my dear child, 
 why do you profess that you have no scruples 
 against theatre-going when your father thinks 
 and you have been brought up to think so differ- 
 ently? Surely you are not sincere in this ! " 
 
 " I am, perfectly sincere," Una said, her eyes 
 still flashing. " It may not be to my taste to 
 spend an evening at the theatre, and I may con- 
 sider it to come within the range of Joe Stone's 
 taste to do so. Anyway, I furnished him the 
 
From Different Standpoints. 173 
 
 means, and would do so again without -a scru- 
 ple." 
 
 " Una," said Perry, in a low quiet voice, con- 
 trasting strangely with her excited one, " the the- 
 atre is no place for a Christian." 
 
 " That may be, but I'm not a Christian, nei- 
 ther is Joe Stone nor his sister. I don't want 
 you to go nor your wife, though she tells me 
 there is no place of amusement that she enjoys 
 more in the world. I am entirely willing that 
 you should keep her from going, if you can ; but 
 Joe Stone and I have a right to go if we want to, 
 and can get a chance." 
 
 " I thought we were friends and that we 
 thought alike, and that our tastes and our work 
 were in sympathy," he said, speaking low, and 
 pausing in his walk long enough to look into her 
 angry eyes. " If I am mistaken, Una, I regret it 
 more than I am able to tell you. But I still 
 think that, in a great measure, I anl responsible 
 for this attempt at an evening school, and I have 
 promised the Lord Jesus Christ that, so far as my 
 influence, reaches, it shall tend toward leading 
 these boys and girls into his kipgdom. To that 
 end I work ; all other motives and aims are sec- 
 ondary, and must bend to that one. I want 
 your help in this, but if you can not give it I 
 must do without it. Still, it is right that you 
 should know I will throw all my influence to- 
 
174 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 ward that end, and shall have to come in contact 
 with your ideas as often as they come in contact 
 with my sense of right." 
 
 He might have put it more gently. But Una 
 was already ashamed of her outburst and touched 
 by the evident distress in his face and voice. So 
 all might have been well had not Mrs. Perry 
 Harrison at that moment glided in through the 
 half-open door. 
 
 " Quarreling, I really believe ! " she said, in 
 her silvery voice. " You and Una ! Who would 
 have suspected such a thing possible ! My dear 
 child, you see none of them are to be trusted. 
 Though certainly I thought Perry would keep 
 his temper before you! What can be said in 
 the most meaningless sport by some women takes 
 tone and force said by others." 
 
 And there was that in Mrs. Harrison's tones 
 which made the angry blood rush into Una's 
 cheeks. As for Perry, he went out from the li- 
 brary without speaking another word to either 
 lady, and a few minutes thereafter passed down 
 the walk leading to the front gate. Mrs. Harri- 
 son seated herself among the cushions on the 
 sofa, and got out her bright-colored wools. 
 
 " They are a sad set, these gentlemen," she 
 said, carelessly, " especially the Harrisons. Tliis 
 one has inherited all the family temper. My dear 
 Una, you may be thanlrful that you escaped his 
 hands." 
 
From Different Standpoints. 175 
 
 What was there in her tone that made this 
 sentence so insulting ? Under any circumstances 
 it might, perhaps, have been pronounced coarse ; 
 but it jarred on Una's nerves lite the cut of a 
 knife on clear flesh. She lifted her head haught- 
 ily, and said, while her cheeks burned : 
 
 " Mrs. Harrison, may I ask what you mean? " 
 
 An air of well-bred surprise was Mrs. Harri- 
 son's answer. 
 
 "Mean?" she said, innocently. "Why my 
 dear child, you can not have supposed me to 
 have remained ignorant of what is village gossip ! 
 I should have expected you to be better versed in 
 village life than that. You know, of course, that 
 it is said my husband was so ungracious as to de- 
 sert you and ignore your claims after devoting 
 himself to you since your babyhood. Of course 
 /understand just how much truth there is in all 
 this ; I am only trying to amuse you with an ac- 
 count of what is being talked ; you are reaping 
 laurels, I assure you ; the good people of the vil- 
 lage can not say enough to show their admira- 
 tion of your forgiving spirit, in that you have 
 taken him to your heart as before, and are even 
 willing to make yourself a tool to carry out his 
 quixotic schemes. Seriously, my child, I wish 
 you would not be so patient with his whims ; he 
 is capable of going to all sorts of extremes. 
 Sometimes I am really afraid that he will deter- 
 
176 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 mine that ttie Mormon theory is correct, and con- 
 clude that he must have two wives at least in 
 order to carry on liis grand plans successfully — 
 one to afford intellectual stimulus, you know, 
 and one to do the work. Don't "you let him 
 make such a drudge of you. It is a real shame ! 
 I told him that I should interfere if he persisted 
 in spoiling your prospects for life in this way." 
 
 What was Una- to answer to this strange, 
 coarse, insulting, cold-blooded address, conveyed 
 in the most insinuating tones ? Give her credit 
 for self-control and a degree of forbearance that 
 was almost Christian, in that she said not a single 
 word, but gathered up her work, that had fallen 
 to the floor, and rising glided out of the room — 
 out of the door — stopping only to seize her straw 
 hat from the rack in the hall, then away across 
 the meadow to her home. 
 
 She wrote a note that evening — ^brief, and yet 
 containing much. This was it : 
 
 Peeey : — Your wife has insulted me ; and not 
 only me, but you. From tlus time we must be 
 as strangers. 
 
 Eunice Tatioe. 
 
 In her journal she wrote that night, as late as 
 midnight : 
 
 I have been stabbed to the very heart, and 
 Perry Harrison's wife has done the work. I 
 wonder if all mortal wounds open people's eyes 
 
From Different Standpoints. 177 
 
 to their own follies and mistakes ? Mine did. I 
 see most plainly why those cold, cruel words 
 stung so. I have been left by Perry Harrison ! 
 Deserted ! Not that he ever meant it — not that 
 I ever knew he did it until this day. I know 
 now, by the pain and the bitterness, that he 
 ought never to have been to me what he was — 
 what he is. I know that he treated me as no 
 man should treat a woman, save that one whom 
 he loves best on earth ; by which I only mean 
 that he was patient with my mistakes, gentle 
 with my faults, considerate for my comfort, giv- 
 ing me to understand by constant, endless, name- 
 less attentions, that I was always in his thoughts, 
 an object of special interest. This he had no 
 right to do ; this I had no right to accept ; for I 
 knew then, as well as I know it now, that he was 
 engaged to Eleanor Haddington. I was not true 
 to her nor to myself, and he was not true to her 
 nor to me, and it is these truths that cut. ■ Aunt 
 Ruth was right — ^there is a sting. Oh, Perry ! 
 Oh, Eunice Taylor! You are not strong, nor 
 self-reliant. You have no friend to help you ; 
 you do not know what kind of help you want, 
 nor which way to turn, nor what to do. God 
 help you ! No, God can not help you, for you 
 have not asked his help. No, and I will not ! Is 
 not Eleanor Harrison a Christian ? Doesn't she 
 go to church every communion Sabbath, and sit 
 
178 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 in her elegant robes in the corner of tlie Harrison 
 pew, and nibble a crumb of the sacred bread, and 
 touch her lips to the gold-lined goblet ? Shall I 
 touch it, after that ? / hate her ! 
 
15. 
 
 Perry Harrison had been more annoyed by the 
 disagreement between himself and Eunice than 
 any one guessed. He could hardly believe that 
 they had actually quarreled, and yet that was 
 what his wife had named it ; and now that he re- 
 called the scene and the words spoken he con- 
 fessed that it looked and sounded like a fierce 
 dispute. He had been so hurt and disappointed, 
 first that Una had been so untrue to what he had 
 believed to be her ideas of right, derived from 
 her own father's teachings, and, secondly, that 
 she had so passionately resented his interference, 
 as she was pleased to^call his attempt at remon- 
 strance. And then he questioned within himself 
 whether he had been altogether without passion ; 
 whether his words had been well chosen and 
 spoken without anger ; whether he had not been 
 more anxious to make people think as he did 
 than zealous for the truth. 
 
 There is a class who talk largely about allow- 
 ing people to think for themselves, but I have 
 noticed that these are the very ones who want 
 
 170 
 
180 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 everybody to think exactly as they do, and they 
 are apt to look upon those who do not arrive at 
 the same conclusions as beneath themselves in 
 intellectual capacity. 
 
 Perry Harrison was not one of this class. Still 
 he had very strong convictions, and it hurt him 
 to find that Una had less firm ideas upon a mat- 
 ter which seemed to him of great importance. 
 Someway a prop. upon which he had leaned had 
 suddenly given way, and he felt more alone in 
 his work, and even in his Christian life, than ever 
 before ; and, strange as it may seem, he felt not 
 the slightest prompting to turn to his wife for 
 sympathy and help. He had already learned 
 that with all her years of experience Eleanor 
 Harrison stood yet upon a low spiritual plane ; 
 not that he put the thought into form, even in 
 his most secret heart. Not at all. He had not 
 yet been disenchanted. Disappointed he often 
 was in his wife ; grieved that she could not enter 
 into Ms plans and sympathize with him in his 
 aims ; but he had a thousand excuses which were • 
 no shams to him. He really thought her the 
 most lovely of women — "• a queen among women " 
 — ^he was wont to call her; and so she would 
 have been but for one grand defect. Supremely 
 selfish, and vtdthout sympathy and thought for 
 others, she seemed what we rarely find, an utterly 
 heartless woman ; and yet she could be the most 
 
From Different Standpoints. 181 
 
 fascinating of mortals. She always had a host of 
 admirers. Even Eunice Taylor sometimes yielded 
 to the charm of her manner when she chose to 
 be gracious, and then that young lady made up 
 for it by writing in her diary spiteful things about ' 
 her neighbor. 
 
 " And now to make matters worse these two 
 had to quarrel ! " 
 
 That was what Perry said when, the next 
 morning, he received Una's note. Strangely 
 enough that explosive little billet did not quite 
 overwhelm the gentleman. He was inexpressibly 
 grieved, but not hopelessly so. You must re- 
 member that he was ignorant of the real state of 
 affairs. No breath of the village gossip had 
 reached him, and even had he heard every ill- 
 natured remark which had been made he was so 
 sure of liis own and Una's good faith and trust 
 in each other, in a brotherly and sisterly way, 
 that he would scarcelv have thouHit to connect 
 it with Una's outburst, as revealed by the slip of 
 paper which he twisted and twirled in his fin- 
 gers, while he bit his lips and wrinkled his fore- 
 head between his exclamations of vexation and 
 dismay. 
 
 " At last Una has taken offense at some of El- 
 eanor's unguarded and carcaotic remarks." 
 
 That was the way he explained it. He did 
 not wonder much, for he had been often sur- 
 
182 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 prised at the cool manner with wliich Una re- 
 ceived remarks which even to him sounded harsh 
 and unkind. But he always said, " Tliat's Elea- 
 nor's way," and secretly rejoiced over Una's 
 good sense. But now she had actually taken up 
 a feeling of resentment, and he was so sorry ! It 
 had followed so closely upon his own little 
 misunderstanding — ^that made it less easy to 
 bridge over. What a silly child she was, to be 
 sure ! What could it have been to call out such 
 a spiteful little note as that? Of course Una 
 was sorry before this, and would give worlds to 
 recall her note. On the whole he would just ig- 
 nore it, and let it be as if it had not been ; not a 
 word would he breathe of it even to Eleanor, 
 and when he saw Una he would act just as usual. 
 It was only one of the child's little outbursts. 
 How well he remembered them in the old, child- 
 ish days. 
 
 How far away those days were now ! There 
 was the same friendly greeting when he met 
 Una's father and mother ; but the old freedom 
 was gone. He no longer ran in every day as he 
 used to, whenever he was at home. He had not 
 thought of it before, but things were changed, 
 certainly. He would never cease to love those 
 dear friends of his boyhood, and he recalled the 
 grasp of the hand and the words of cheer with 
 which he was welcomed when, a few months be- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 183 
 
 fore, he came back to them with a new hope in 
 his heart, a new aim in his thoughts and life ; and 
 witia these memories, and tlie sad, hard sentence 
 of that note mingling in his thoughts. Perry Har- 
 rison bowed his head in heaviness of heart. Not 
 that he belieyed for a single moment that the 
 friendship was really broken — it was too firm for 
 that ; but there was something disheartening 
 about it all. Bearing as it did upon the success 
 of the work he had undertaken, what was to be- 
 come of that? And with a sense of his weak- 
 ness, and ar desolation for which he felt he had no 
 adequate cause, he betook himself to his usual 
 occupations. 
 
 Matters. stood in this way for a day or two, 
 then Eleanor took occa'sion to say, at dinner : 
 
 " I wonder what has become of your ally, or 
 confederate, or whatever you choose to caU her ? 
 She has not been here since the day you quar- 
 reled. Was it so serious ? " 
 
 An amazed look spread itself over Mother Har- 
 rison's face. 
 
 " Perry and Una quarreled ! " Then directly 
 to her son : " Not seriously, I hope ? " 
 
 "I think the little difference we had could 
 scarcely be called a quarrel," replied Perry, with 
 a slight emphasis on the we, which Eleanor no- 
 ticed, and it caused her color to rise ; but Perry 
 did not look at her, and she could not determine 
 
184 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 whether or not he knew of the finishing up of 
 that last visit of Una's. She had an instinctive 
 feeling that she might do well to move cau- 
 tiously, lest she should call down upon her own 
 head something that would not take the form of 
 blessings. 
 
 Pursuing his policy of ignoring Una's note, and 
 its threat or declaration, Perry said, as he rose 
 from the table : 
 
 " Mother, Eleanor and I are going to ride into 
 town this afternoon, and if you will go with us 
 we vaaj as well carry out our intention of visit- 
 ing the artists' studios. Let Katy run over and 
 tell Una, and tell her to be ready at three." 
 
 Eleanor's eyes flashed ; and she laughed a little, 
 scornful laugh. 
 
 " The Sultan has spoken ! Let all the Sultanas 
 obey ! " 
 
 ." As they please," returned her husband. 
 
 Katy brought back a note from Una. It was 
 this : 
 
 Dear Mrs. Harrison : — I am sorry to disap- 
 point you, but I can not go this afternoon. Will 
 you please say to Perry that I wid try to meet 
 my class to-night. 
 
 Yours, Una. 
 
 To this Eleanor said, with another scornful 
 laugh : 
 
 " You see, Perry, one of your subjects has re- 
 
I'rom Different Standpoints. 185 
 
 belled. Will she lose lier head ? I believe that 
 is the usual method of dealing with the refractory 
 ones. I suppose it serves as a salutary lesson for 
 those who remain." 
 
 Mr. Harrison did not even smile at what might 
 have been an attempt at pleasantry. He only 
 said, in a low tone, which could not have been 
 meant to reach other ears : 
 
 " I did not think she meant it." 
 
 His mother said : 
 
 " Well, never mind ; another day will do as 
 well. I don't feel very well myself, and we must 
 remember that Una is not a young lady of lei- 
 sure. She has many home duties from which 
 your wife is free. I sometimes think that we 
 are growing exacting in our demands upon her 
 time." 
 
 " I am sure," said Eleanor, petulantly, " that I 
 am willing to pay Miss Taylor for all she has 
 done for me. Only Perry made such a buzz 
 about my ears when I spoke of it that one would 
 think, to hear him, that he had received a per- 
 sonal insult. However, I presume I shall make 
 no more demands upon her valuable time. But 
 Perry can keep her busy running after his boys 
 and girls whole half days, and e^ery day in the 
 week, and nobody seems to think that Ids de- 
 mands are unreasonable. I told him that I 
 should interfere, and I always keep my word." 
 
186 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 This with a significant glance toward her hus- 
 band, wliich he appeared not to notice. He was 
 determined to carry out his pohcy of ignoring 
 the fact that there had been trouble anywhere 
 among them. 
 
 " Then, Perry, if only you and I go, you will 
 drive in the phaeton, won't you ? " asked Elea- 
 nor. 
 
 " Yes, if you prefer," replied Perry, in a listless 
 tone, as if the whole affair had grown to be a 
 matter of the utmost indifference to him — as, in- 
 deed, it had. He ' had been planning this way 
 out of the trouble, and, man like, he fancied that, 
 if they could only be brought together in some 
 such way, all would be harmony again. You see 
 it had not entered his head that there could be 
 any serious cause for Una's pique. He felt vexed 
 at Eleanor, and more vexed with himself, and 
 had decided that they ought to make the ad- 
 vances. And now his plan had failed. To be 
 sure it might bo, as his mother had suggested, 
 that she was hindered by home duties ; yet it 
 was like Una to say so. Then, on the other 
 hand, her sending word that she would be at the 
 hall was a good omen. He would wait and see 
 how it would all come out. 
 
 But, in spite of his resolve not to worry, he was 
 silent and moody, and Eleanor voted him cross 
 as a bear ! and, when he exerted himself to en- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 187 
 
 tertain her, she grew sullen, and would not be 
 entertained. Altogether they had a most .un- 
 comfortable afternoon. Driving home, in the. 
 early twilight, Perry said, as Eleanor continued 
 to reject his efforts to entertain her : 
 
 " Eleanor, what is tha matter ? I don't under- 
 stand you at all, to-day." 
 
 " You are not more unfortunate than I am," 
 she replied, coldly. 
 
 " Then I am to infer that you do not under- 
 stand yourself? " he asked, smiUng. 
 
 " You are to infer no such thing ! I under- 
 stand mj'self perfectly," she said, with spirit. 
 " You know very well that I mean that I do not 
 understand you ! " 
 
 His reply was gentle, and full of concern : 
 
 " I do not know what you have difficulty with ; 
 I am not conscious of dealing in ambiguities ; I 
 believe in straightforwardness. It may cause a 
 little pain, sometimes, but I believe it is always 
 better in the end to be straightforward." 
 
 " It is a pity that you had not adopted that 
 theory earlier in life." 
 
 Eleanor's tone was sharp and bitter. And 
 Perry knew by that, more than by the words 
 which, in themselves, were ungracious enough, 
 that, behind all, there was something which, as 
 yet, he could not guess. And, straightforward 
 as he was, he dared not ask either his wife, or his 
 
188 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 friend. You need not suppose tliat he knew that 
 he feared anything. Had he not quite convinced 
 himself that Una had only taken offense at some 
 of liis wife's cutting remarks, which, following 
 close upon his own dignified, and, perhaps, some- 
 what sharp, remonstrance, had cut deeper than 
 usual ? What a nuisance it was, anyway ! They 
 were all getting on so beautiful together, and 
 now everything was spoiled ? Again and again 
 he bemoaned the state of affairs. 
 
 They drove to the door in absolute silence. 
 There was an unusual stir about the house, and, 
 on the steps, they were met by Dr. Webb, who, 
 with a grave face, held out his hand to Perry. 
 
 " It is j^our mother," he said, in response to 
 Perry's anxious " What is it ? " 
 
 " I was called in two hours since. Did you 
 not meet the messenger we sent for you ? " 
 
 " We met no one," was tlie reply. " We came 
 home by the river road." 
 
 " That explains it. We feared j^ou would be 
 delayed, and Miss Taylor and I took the liberty 
 of sending a dispatch to Dr. Mason. I dared not 
 wait, as every hour is important." 
 
 "Then my mother is living?" almost gasped 
 Perry. 
 
 "Yes, and I can bid you hope. Cut I felt 
 that I needed the counsel of an older physician, 
 and Miss Taylor thought that Dr. Mason would 
 be your choice." 
 
From Different Standpoints. , 189 
 
 " That was right. But what is it ? Is it — " 
 " That whicli we have feared — paralysis." 
 Perry bowed and passed on, joining Eleanor 
 in the dining-room, followed by the doctor, who 
 insisted upon their taking some refreshment, 
 while he explained further. 
 
 It transpired that Eunice, seeing Perry and his 
 wife pass, and concluding that Mother Harrison 
 was alone, ran over to make a call in their ab- 
 sence, thinking, doubtless,. that the good mother 
 need not be distressed by any suspicions of 
 trouble. On entering the little sitting-room, she 
 found Mrs. Harrison lying partly on the floor and 
 partly on the lounge, and insensible. Here was 
 work for her strong nerves and ready wit. Cal- 
 ling the servants, she gave her orders quickly 
 and quietly. The doctor was sent for, and a 
 messenger despatched for Perry, while with the 
 aid of the frightened women, she got the stricken 
 woman to bed. 
 
 All this Perry learned from the doctor, who 
 was emphatic in his praises pf Una's efficiency. 
 
 " She is with your mother ; she said she should 
 stay until you came. I presume you and your 
 wife will stay up to-night ? I will be in again in 
 an hour, and we wiU make arrangements for the 
 night. Meantime I will go down to the office, 
 and see if I can hear anything from the doctor. 
 I suppose we can not hope for his arrival before 
 ten o'clock to-morrow ? " 
 
190 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 "What is tlie man thinking of?" exclaimed 
 Eleanor, as he went out. " Are there no profes- 
 sional nurses here ? I never sat up with a sick 
 person in my life ! It makes me sick to lose my 
 sleep, and I could never endure sick-room odors. 
 I think it is constitutional — the mortal dread I 
 have at the sight of suffering." 
 
 At this moment Eunice Taylor's white face ap- 
 peared in the doorway. 
 
 " Perry," she, said, and her voice was like a 
 sound from the grave, " I think your mother made 
 en effort to speak your name just now. Will you 
 go to her ? " Then, as he passed her, she whis- 
 pered — and her voice was an inspiration, so in- 
 tense was it in its anxiety — " Perry, be strong — 
 oh, be strong." 
 
16. 
 
 Life at the Harrison mansion was strange and 
 exciting and bewildering during the nest few 
 weeksr The coming of the uninvited guest, who 
 had established himself in the household during 
 the absence of the son and daughter, changed all 
 plans and regulations, and made strange havoc 
 with the petty quarrels that had been going on. 
 
 Eunice Taylor, in her pity and sympathy for 
 Perry, forgot that she was angry with him, that 
 they were to be as strangers, and went forward 
 with her quick, kind words of strength, almost 
 as soon as he arrived. 
 
 Settling down upon the early terror and bustle, 
 followed a night of anxious watching, that weari- 
 est kind of watching, in which the anxious hearts 
 can do nothing but watch and wait. Eunice had 
 not had any plans for the night, but they were 
 promptly made for her by Dr. "Webb. 
 
 " Stay with her to-night, won't you, Miss Eu- 
 nice ? I shall send Mrs. Bacon here, and she is a 
 good enough nurse, and the family will be here, 
 of course, but yet I think it would be better for 
 
 you not to leave her." 
 
 ^ 191 
 
192 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 Of course Eunice said she would stay. Then 
 Mrs. Perry promptly spoke her mind : 
 
 " WeU, then, Perry, do come. The arrange- 
 ments for the night are all made, and I am sure 
 you can do no good standing around in the way. 
 I am almost tired to death. Una can call you if 
 there is any change. But there will not be. I 
 have seen such cases before. Come, before it 
 gets any later ; it is after midnight now." 
 
 Eunice felt that she could have quaUed before 
 the blaze of Perry's eyes, had they been directed 
 to her, just then, but his voice was quiet enough : 
 
 " I shall stay with my mother, to-night, of 
 course." 
 
 She was not subdued. Instead, she was angry. 
 
 " Oh, if you choose to make it as uncomfort- 
 able for me as you can, of course there is no one 
 to prevent it ; but one would think you might 
 have a little consideration for your wife, espec- 
 ially when you can do no good. My nerves are 
 not made of cast-iron." 
 
 His only answer was to take a lamp from the 
 table, direct MoUie, who was passing through, to 
 take it to Mrs. Harrison's room, and then say, 
 " Good-night, Eleanor." Then he proceeded to 
 wheehng an easy chair to his i*other's bedside, 
 and making Una as comfortable as he could. 
 
 " I don't suppose there is any necessity for this," 
 he said, looking anxiously at her. " And I'm afraid 
 
From Different Standpoints, 193 
 
 it is too much to ask of you; but you don't 
 know what an unspeakable comfort it is to have 
 you beside her. It seems the place for a woman, 
 and a woman who loves her." 
 
 " Uever niuid me," said Una, briefly.- " I am 
 used to night watching ; I served an apprentice- 
 ship when father was sick, you know. How soon 
 do you suppose Dr. Mason can reach here ? " 
 
 That was the beginning of their night vigUs 
 together. Dr. Mason came the next day, and 
 was doubtful, a/nxious, non-committal. Would 
 come down agaua in a day or two and try to give 
 a definite opinion. It might be a rapid case, and 
 she might rally and live for weeks and months, 
 even years ; some cases did ; it was impossible to 
 tell. And then he went away and left them 
 again in their consuming anxiety. 
 
 Meantime, Eunice was a tower of strength. 
 Her apprenticeship in her father's sick-room, and 
 in Aunt Ruth's house in New York, and in her 
 mother's kitchen, had served her well. There was 
 nothing that she could not direct about, from the 
 best way of preparing the bed to the best way of 
 making beef-tea and gruel. And she did not 
 dare to go away, even for an hour. Not because 
 Perry wanted her, as he evidently did ; not be- 
 cause the cook and the chambermaid-hung around 
 her surreptitiously, asking for directions, but be- 
 cause of a pair of eager eyes that recognized her 
 
194 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 and followed her wherever she moved, and un- 
 mistakably spoke for the poor mute lips a plead- 
 ing that she would stay. " You have always 
 seemed to me like my child," she had said to her 
 in a tender, yearning tone, only a few days be- 
 fore, and Eimice, thinking of it, flushed to her 
 very temples, and staid. 
 
 Dr. Mason came again, and then gave forth his 
 decree. She would live, he thought, through the 
 summer, possibly much longer ; she would, he 
 hoped — was quite confident, indeed — ^i-ecover 
 speech to a degree — but motion ! And then he 
 paused and shook his head. Poor Perry ! This 
 was almost worse than death, and yet he accepted 
 it as a reprieve, and clung to her, and smiled 
 fondly over her, and whispered tender words in 
 her poor dulled ear, and one sentence was, 
 " "Would she like to have Una stay with her all 
 the time ? " And the drawn mouth had tried to 
 work itself into speech, and had managed, in a 
 strange, uncouth way, but in a way that was per- 
 fectly intelligible to him, to signify that she 
 would rather have her than any one else on earth. 
 He did not know how fond had been the mother's 
 hope that this would be her daughter. It was 
 well he did not. These were hard days for him. 
 He needed all his Christian courage to sustain 
 him. I-Iad Satan entered into the beautiful Elea- 
 iior that she stung so, in every direction ? She 
 
From Different Standpoints. 195 
 
 called the house an apothecary's shop ; said it 
 smelled of all the herbs that ever grew, and that 
 every dish in the house savored of gruel or beef- 
 tea, and that people of refinement had a way of 
 managing sickness so that the whole house wasn't 
 redolent of it ; and Perry bit his lip, and gnawed 
 his moustache, and held his peace, keeping the 
 utmost outward control over himself, showing by 
 neither words nor tones that he was hurt to the 
 core. 
 
 Meantime, when he was not present, and when, 
 on rare occasions, Una was away from the sick- 
 room long enough to be talked with, she had to 
 bear the stings herself, and having neither love 
 nor Christian principle to sustain her, she did 
 not bear them very well ; pride in herself and pity 
 for Perry were the two controlling motives that 
 kept her from absolute outbreak. 
 
 " What unbounded devotion ! " she said to her 
 one morning, the sarcastic smile that was so very 
 hard to bear curving her upper lip. " It is al- 
 most a pity that it is not your own mother, and 
 yet I don't know that you could improve the pic- 
 ture even then ; and of course it wouldn't be as 
 romantic nor exciting. On the whole, I believe 
 it is better as ifc is." 
 
 " Mrs. Harrison," said Una, and her voice in 
 its coldness startled even herself, but she spoke 
 in the slow, uuimpassioned tones that in natures 
 
196 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 like hers mean the white heat of anger, " I have 
 borne a great deal from you, because this is a 
 time of affliction and a house of mourning, and 
 one who has been like a second mother to me all 
 my life has no daughter of her own, and is depen- 
 dent on me. But I warn you that I have borne 
 all that I will. If you say to me again anything 
 like what you have just been hinting I will ap- 
 peal to your husband for protection, and tell him 
 what his wife thinks of him ! " 
 
 Now Mrs. Harrison was angry — more angry 
 than she had ever been with Eunice Taylor be- 
 fore, and that was saying a great deal. If she 
 had not lost all self-control for a moment she 
 would not have said what she did. 
 
 " Tell him," she said ; " tell him, certainly. 
 Don't think to dare me by any childish spiteful- 
 ness like that. Perhaps, since you are resolved 
 on so dainty a bit of work, I may as well give 
 you something to tell. I despise you both for a 
 couple of weak-brained idiots. You are just 
 suited to each other, and you should have mar- 
 ried each other. There is that in Perry Harrison 
 which requires coddling and mustard-plasters, and 
 you have the element which is needed. I haven't. 
 I shall never develop into the model wife, as you 
 would have done. It is a great pity. In a 
 novel, now, nothing would be easier than for you 
 to give me a dose of poison and clear the way ; 
 
From Different Standpoints. 197 
 
 or you might elope with my husband — that would 
 be more tragic in some views, and less common 
 than the other. But I am not afraid of your 
 doing either. Perry wouldn't think it right to 
 elope, and he would never forgive you for mur- 
 der, because it's wicked. So, my little cat, you 
 can't scratch very hard. And really I'm sorry 
 for you. I think myself it is a stupid sort of 
 life." 
 
 During this half-insane harangue Eunice had 
 stood as if rooted to the spot. What could she 
 say or do ? Where fly, to be where she need 
 never hear this hateful tongue again ? 
 
 The sudden and violent slamming to of the li- 
 brary door startled them both. Who was in the 
 library ? Mrs. Harrison laughed. 
 
 " Shoixldn't I have made a good actress ? " she 
 asked, coolly. " I think I should have liked the 
 profession. In fact, I was tempted in that di- 
 rection once. I declare, I cheated you perfectly, 
 didn't I ? " 
 
 And she laughed again. But Eunice was not 
 cheated ; she knew that this was acting, and that 
 the other had been genuine. 
 
 People in high states of rage, and people, too, " 
 without Christian principle to help them, can 
 control the outward manifestation of it ; that is, 
 if they have been trained to self-control. It is a 
 matter of education. Eunice had been trained to 
 
198 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 it from her babyhood. She took up her glass of 
 jelly and passed down the hall, precisely as if 
 nothing had occurred, and she went through with 
 the routine of that day as usual, many times, 
 though, wondering who it could have been that 
 slammed the library-door, and whereunto this 
 would grow. She had lost all desire to shield 
 Perry from a knowledge of his wife's character. 
 She had just enough principle left to be sure that 
 she would not voluntarily go to him with a story 
 of outrage and insult. She was sorry, five min- 
 utes after she sent him that first note, which had 
 been so entirely ignored by him, that she ever 
 sent it at all. There was no danger of her des- 
 cending to that level of attack again. But if he 
 had heard, and should question her, and it should 
 all come out, she would take no pains to spare 
 him the knowledge of the character of the woman 
 who was his wife. She had no business to be his 
 wife ; it was a great moral wrong ; she did vio- 
 lence to his nature, to his sense of duty and to 
 his highest convictions of life, every hour that 
 she breathed. He ought to know it ; he ought 
 to know what a fool he had been. She hoped he 
 did feel it to liis very soul. And, as for making 
 an effort to blind him, as she had lamely tried to 
 do all the time, she would from this time forth 
 speak to his wife exactly as she deserved to be 
 addressed ; she would not play the blind-folded 
 idiot between them any longer. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 199 
 
 These are just a few of the wild thoughts that 
 rushed tlirough her brain that night, as she sat 
 alone watching beside his mother. The nurse 
 wa,s resting. Eleanor was in the parlor, from 
 whence there echoed the faint sound of the piano. 
 Perry was with her, doubtless. Una hadn't seen 
 him that day. She wished at that moment that 
 he would come in. His mother was in one of 
 her heavy sleeps from which ordinary talking did 
 not waken her. If he OYerheard any of that talk 
 this morning, and would question her, she would 
 not spare him, not she. He deserved the know- 
 ledge of his folly. 
 
 Wliile she thought it over he came in, softlj^, 
 without speaking. He came over to the bedside 
 and looked at his mother. He was accustomed 
 since her iUness to having prayers at her bedside. 
 Sometimes she was awake and heard ; sometimes 
 she slept. Usually Eleanor was with them ; to- 
 night she was not. Perry did not look at Una — 
 did not in any way recognize her presence. He 
 knelt beside his mother and clasped her hand in 
 his, and then he prayed. What a prayer it was ! 
 Years and years afterward Una's nerves shook 
 when she thought of that night and that prayer. 
 Intense, solemn, tender, high-toned — not as of 
 one who was in the depths of despair, and yet as 
 one on whom a knowledge had fallen such as he 
 had never before possessed. It might almost 
 
200 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 have been called a prayer of self-renunciation, of 
 consecration, as from one who gave up himself, 
 and his plans, and his hopes, and his happiness, 
 then and there, from that time forth, and in do- 
 ing it had gone higher and closer to the heart 'of 
 God than he had ever dared to reach before, and 
 so found that wliich the world not only could not 
 give, but could not take away. Eunice had sat 
 erect, with cold eyes and hardened heart, when 
 he commenced, but before the service was con- 
 cluded she had slipped on her knees, and, whether 
 she prayed or not, she shed abundant tears. 
 Rising at last he bent over his mother, who had 
 roused some tune before. He spoke tender words 
 to her, low-toned and sweet, as one would speak 
 to a sick child; then stooping, he kissed her, 
 soft, clinging, lingering kisses, like a benediction, 
 almost, and ttirned away. Stopping beside Eu- 
 nice for just an instant, he held out his hand ; 
 she glancing up into his pale face an instant, 
 dropped her eyes. There was in the clear, sol- 
 emn depths of his earnest gaze that which shamed 
 and awed her. He had struggled and suffered ; 
 those two traces she could see, but he had also 
 gone up, beyond where she had any knowledge. 
 He did not speak a word, but there was a bit of 
 twisted paper in her hand when he went away. 
 What was it? She hardly felt that she dared 
 open it ; it almost seemed to her as if he might 
 
From Different Standpoints. 201 
 
 have seen her wild, wicked thoughts and sternly- 
 rebuked them. She could not look at it now, 
 the mother wanted her. She bent over her and 
 received the sweet, trusting smile, and set about 
 the tender little ministrations for her comfort, 
 and waited until in the silence and hush of the 
 sitting-room, where she had planned to pass the 
 night, because the sick one so often wakened, 
 and was restless and unable to fall to sleep with- 
 out her. Then she took from her bosom that 
 crumpled bit of paper and read it. This was it : 
 
 " Dost thou take this woman, Eleanor, before 
 God and these witnesses, to be thy wife ? Dost 
 thou promise to love her, honor her, defend her, 
 sustain and cherish her, in joy and in sorrow, in 
 health and in sickness, in prosperity and adver- 
 sity ? WUt thou be faithful to her in all things, 
 and never forsake her, so long as ye both do 
 live ? " 
 
 "I will." 
 
 This was all. Not a line or word else of ex- 
 planation or comment. Following that prayer it 
 had a strange effect on Eunice, those simple, sol- 
 emn vows, written out by a hand she knew so 
 well. It was like calling on her to be a witness 
 to a sacrament to take oath with him as to its so- 
 lemnity and sacredness. All her rage died out, 
 all her bitterness of feeling against him, for she 
 knew now that the feelings had been bitter. 
 
202 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 Straightway slie went back with tenfold strength 
 and power to her resolution made when he 
 brought home a bride. Nor that, either : she re- 
 alized fully that she couldn't shield him, bliad 
 his eyes — ^nothing of that now. They were very 
 wide-open eyes, but she could keep, with him, 
 those solemn vows — at least she could do it out- 
 wardly. She would show his wife all respect and 
 deference. She would be — she would try to be — 
 And there her exaltation broke down, and she 
 cried bitter tears, born of youthful folly and of 
 playing with edged tools. 
 
 It transpired very soon after that Perry was 
 fuU of plans. He had consulted with Dr. Mason. 
 He had learned that New York, and the constant 
 attendance of that gentleman, might help liis 
 mother. He had planned mth Eunice's father 
 and mother, and with Eunice, that she and his 
 mother should go to New York, to Aunt Ruth's, 
 and board. That the payment for Eunice's ser- 
 vices should be in actual hard dollars — a regular 
 salary — sufficient to make her life far above the 
 one of grinding poverty that it had been hitherto. 
 
 But wha.t paid Eunice, or what kept her meek 
 under the infliction of that brief, business-like 
 talk, with money for its basis, was the memory 
 of that prayer, and that slip of paper, which she 
 kept, and also a certain curious little tremble of 
 the upper lip, as he said : 
 
From Different Standpoints. 203 
 
 " She can do without her son, Eunice, better 
 than she can do without you." 
 
 And Eunice knew it was true, so long as " her 
 son " must also mean " her son's wife." 
 
 So at home in her little room, packing for New 
 York at midnight one night, she paused long 
 enough to write in her journal this testimony : 
 
 " Oh, there are Christians ! And Perry Harri- 
 son is a Christian, and Eunice Taylor is not." 
 
17. 
 
 Though Dr. Mason came up to superintend 
 the removal of his patient, Perry, with the devo- 
 tion of a loving son, resolved to see his mother 
 established in her rooms at Miss Brockton's. 
 
 " Of course you wUl only be there for a few 
 days," the doctor had said, when they talked over 
 the plans ; " and, much as I would like to keep 
 you out of the city entirely, I suppose I shall 
 have to submit. But I tell you, my friend, that 
 this clear country air is just what you need for 
 the re-establishment of your health." 
 
 " I should think so ! " said Eleanor, in her 
 hatefulest tone. " The smoke of a factory vil- 
 lage is acknowledged to be a complete cure for 
 lung diseases ! " 
 
 " You forget, Mrs. Harrison, that you people 
 up here on the hill are breathing quite another 
 atmosphere from that which they who live down 
 in the village are taking in with every breath." 
 Then, turning to Perry, he added : " I see how it 
 is, and understand that you wUl not be quite 
 easy about your mother unless you see her set- 
 204 
 
From Different Standpoints. 205 
 
 tied witli your own eyes, and know for yourself 
 that she is comfortably situated." 
 
 " That is it," returned Perry. " And it will 
 be a little change for both my wife and myself. 
 She has been waiting a long time for that visit to 
 her mother." 
 
 " You need not count me in your plans," said 
 Mrs. Eleanor, sharply ; " I prefer to make up my 
 own party when I go on a pleasure-trip. This 
 being packed in with invalids and nurses is not 
 to my taste." 
 
 Dr. Mason elevated his eyebrows slightly, but 
 took no other notice of the lady's unfeeling re- 
 mark, whUe Perry went on planning, apparently 
 oblivious of her presence. But she was not to be 
 ignored. 
 
 " See here. Perry ! " she said, " I don't know 
 what you can be thinking of ! You talk of going 
 away. What do you propose to do with me ? " 
 
 " Why, I did propose to have the pleasure of 
 your company ; but, as you have declined to af- 
 ford me that gratification, I suppose you will re- 
 main here. You wUl not be alone in a house full 
 of servants." 
 
 Perry's voice had not a touch of anger in it, 
 though it was strangely cold and dignified. 
 
 " I didn't marry the servants ! " she said, an- 
 grily. " And I didn't expect to be deserted by 
 any husband quite so soon. It seems a man is to 
 
206 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 cling to his mother, for all the law of the gospel 
 about cleaving unto his wife^' 
 
 " Now, Eleanor," said Perry, with a touch of 
 vexation in his voice — not anger, but simply a 
 vexed and pained feeling showing itself in the 
 tone — " don't be unreasonable. You know that 
 I ought to go ; and more than that, I would be a 
 monster not to want to go. And I really can not 
 see why you should not go with me. I wUl stay, 
 well, as long as the doctor here will let me. And 
 then you might stop a few days longer, if you 
 thought you would enjoy it." 
 
 " You are very kind ; but I assure you that 
 your condescension is quite uncalled for. I will 
 not ask you to sacrifice your happiness ; and, per- 
 haps, as Dr. Mason puts it, your life in that way. 
 And you quite forget that my mother is still at 
 Newport, where I should be if I was not your 
 wife." 
 
 " Eleanor ! " 
 
 That Avas all. But the look in Perry Harri- 
 son's eyes warned her that she had stepped to the 
 extreme of propriety, and it might not be well to 
 venture farther in the presence of a third person. 
 
 How she shaped her plan of attack when they 
 were alone did not appear, but when Perry saw 
 Una again, he said : 
 
 " Una, can you do without me to-morrow ? " 
 
 "Why, Perry," she began, then something 
 stopped her, and he added : 
 
From Different Standpoints. 207 
 
 " I speak truly when I say that I can not en- 
 dure the strain upon my strength." 
 
 He did not say in what way the strain would 
 come, but Una understood, and she answered : 
 
 " I know, it would be hard, and with Dr. Ma- 
 son we shall get along all right. We will send a 
 telegram just as soon as we get there. Yes, on 
 the whole, I tliink that it will be better for you 
 not to go just now." 
 
 What Dr. Mason knew or guessed he kept to 
 himself. But tliis is what he did, when they met 
 at breakfast that last morning, he having arrived 
 in the early dawn of the autumn day. He 
 said: 
 
 " Now, see here, young man. If you take my 
 advice you will stay at home. You are not fit 
 for the journey, especially such a trip as this will 
 be, and I shall only have two patients instead of 
 one, and, hurried as'I am in these days, I can not 
 take any more journeys out here. The truth is, 
 you are worn out with watching and anxiety, and 
 if you will take a little immediate rest it may save 
 you some trouble." 
 
 There was certainly a grateful expression in 
 Perry's eyes as for one instant they met Una's, as 
 she added her word : 
 
 " Do, Perry, be persuaded to stay at home, and 
 take care of yourself." 
 
 " He won't, and you need not think of it," said 
 
208 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 Eleanor. " He has very peculiar ideas of his 
 diity ; and I am surprised, Miss Taylor, that you 
 and he should differ," 
 
 It was the old insult, and for one moment 
 Una's cheeks flushed. Then she swallowed her 
 wrath, and answered, lightly : 
 
 " Perry and I have differed more than once in 
 the course of our lives." 
 
 The doctor had evidently taken things into his 
 own hands, and was making it to appear that his 
 plans were being carried out, when, in truth, he 
 was only trying to make it smooth for Perry. 
 And this did not quite suit Eleanor, who wanted 
 no help in the carrying out of her plan of keeping 
 Perry at home, and she said, sharply : 
 
 " You need not trouble yourseK to urge Perry 
 to stay behind. If he wUl not do it for his wife 
 I should think he would be too proud to do it for 
 any one else." 
 
 But this was lost upon the doctor, who, with 
 an " Excuse me, Mrs. Harrison," had left the ta- 
 ble, even as she was speaking, and proceeding to 
 the invalid's room was already preparing her for 
 the farewell so soon to be spoken. 
 
 When Perry came back from the station, after 
 seeing the party off, he shut himself up in the 
 study, not Seeing his wife until dinner-time. Then 
 all traces of emotion had disappeared, and he was 
 the affable gentleman exerting himself to be en- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 209 
 
 tertainiug. But Eleanor was siillen, and would 
 not be entertained. Tlie more lie talked the 
 more slie would not talk. He proposed a drive, 
 but she was tired ; she should think he would 
 want to rest after all the tiresome life they had 
 been liYing for weeks. For her part, she did not 
 want to see anybody, or go anywhere, until she 
 had time to appreciate the quiet of the house. 
 
 " Very well," returned her husband, speaking 
 calmly. " If you are so anxious to be left alone 
 I can not understand the force of your objections 
 to my going to New York. You know very well, 
 Eleanor, that I staid at home for no other reason 
 than to gratify your whim." 
 
 " And now will you let me have a little quiet, 
 to gratify another whim? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 And with that he took his hat and walked out 
 of the room and out of the house. 
 
 The summer, which was to have been so full of 
 work, was gone, and September had come, and 
 how little had been done ! Yet, if he had not 
 been so comxiletely absorbed in liis own sorrow- 
 ful thoughts, the very sight of Joe Stone, whom 
 he met coming up the liill, would have answered 
 that lament. 
 
 Joe's step was light, and his open, honest face 
 wore a look of conscious strength and power. 
 Why, Joe had money in the savings bank ! Joe 
 
210 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 read the newspapers ! Surely that summer's 
 "work, broken and interrupted, had not been with- 
 out results. 
 
 Mr. Harrison stopped in Ms walk to speak to 
 the boy, with an enquiry as to how they were 
 getting along at home, then said : 
 
 " Can you meet me at the lunch-rooms at half- 
 past seven ? I have a plan which I want to talk 
 over with you." 
 
 Joe's eyes danced ! Invited to lunch with Mr. 
 Harrison ! Could ever greater honor come to 
 him ? 
 
 " Thank you, sir, I'll be there." 
 
 Six months ago Joe would have wriggled and 
 twisted, not knowing what to say, and perhaps 
 ended by running away altogether. 
 
 " And 3'ou may bring your friend Dan with 
 you." 
 
 " Thank you," said Joe, again, his eyes having 
 another sparkle in them. Wouldn't Dan be 
 glad ! 
 
 Now Perry walked on with quicker step. Com- 
 . ing in contact with the bright, active boy had 
 put new vigor into him. Partly that, and partly 
 that he was now in a hurry. The appointment 
 he had just made was a step toward carrying out 
 a plan which came next in order as he and Una 
 had talked it over months ago. Now there were 
 other people to be seen before evening. 
 
From Different^ Standpoints. 211 
 
 Going home to order his carriage, he found 
 Eleanor was taking Iier nap, so that lie could not 
 cwcTj out his intention of repeating his invitation 
 to ride, for he well knew that it must be a very- 
 urgent matter that would reconcile Eleanor to 
 being disturbed in her afternoon nap. So he 
 went off without her, leaving a message with 
 Mollie to the effect that he might not be at home 
 to tea. 
 
 As may be imagined, the delivery of this mes- 
 sage did not tend to increase Mrs. Eleanor's good 
 humor. She was too proud to display her temper 
 before the servants, but in a letter to her mother 
 she poured out the vials of her wrath. 
 
 The days went by, filled with work done in 
 furtherance of the designs he had formed for the 
 help of the village people. There were new 
 books and papers for the reading-room ; the 
 course of lectures ; and, what interested the boys, 
 the plan for a lyceum. To be sure Dan Baker 
 said, with the most puzzled look imaginable : 
 
 " What in the world is that ? " 
 
 But, when explained to him, he was eager and 
 interested, and soon grew to use the word as 
 glibly as any one. Perry sometimes thought it 
 was the greatest undertaldng of all, and feared 
 that it would amount to the least. But, looking 
 forward into the coming years, and seeing the 
 growth of the crude efforts of Joe and Dan, and 
 
212 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 all the rest, he took courage, believing he saw 
 promise of an ability to a development wliich 
 he was making. 
 
 But the long letters which he had promised 
 Jiimself, as well as his mother, these were being 
 crowded out. Not with the outside duties which 
 he had taken upon himself, but by the constant 
 demands made upon his time and strength when- 
 ever he came into the house. His wife claimed 
 his every moment. No sooner did he seat him- 
 self in the library, and get as far as " My Dear 
 Mother," than Eleanor would appear with some 
 request, which, however trifling, must have im- 
 mediate attention. Perhaps she only wanted to 
 send a message down stairs to the cook, sweetly 
 adding : 
 
 " Perry, if you would only have some bells put 
 up in tins old shell, as well as some other modern 
 conveniences, it would seem more like living." 
 
 And when he returned she wanted a j-ard of 
 ribbon, and Mollie was so very busy, would he 
 just go down and get it right away ? Then, 
 would he read aloud ? Or, if his throat was un- 
 usually bad, she insisted upon his listening while 
 she read one other favorite authors, which were 
 scarcely to the taste of a scholarly man. 
 
 To his, " Now, Eleanor, I must finish that let- 
 ter ; mother will be anxious to hear from us," 
 she would reply : 
 
From Different Standpoints. 213 
 
 " Oh, let the letter wait ; no news is good 
 news ; one day won't make any difference ; and 
 this book must be returned to-morrow. Now, do 
 listen " — he still insisting he ought to write — 
 " Oh, now. Perry, you are positively unkind. 
 You know I never enjoy anything alone. I 
 should tlnnk you would have some consideration 
 for me. Your mother has some one whose sole 
 business is to amuse her. But, of course, I am 
 but a second person in your thoughts." 
 
 " Now, Eleanor," said her husband, " don't be 
 foolish. That sounds a little like the complaint 
 of a spoiled child." 
 
 And, resigning himself like a martyr, he laid 
 aside" his pen and gave up the afternoon to the 
 whim of the woman who, because of her selfish- 
 ness, was burdening his life." 
 
 " Never mind," he said, " I can write to-night," 
 never suspecting that the woman had already 
 planned to fill up that also. 
 
 " I had a note from Miss Wilbur this morning," 
 she said, as they were at tea. " You were not 
 here, so I took it upon myself to decide the ques- 
 tion. She wants us to spend the evening there, 
 and I sent word we would do so." 
 
 And so to the Wilburs they went. And the 
 next day it was a trip to the city, and so on, day 
 after day, there was always something to keep 
 him out of his study, and prevent him from writ- 
 ing only short, hurried letters to his mother : 
 
214 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 This is what Eleanor Harrison said in a letter 
 to her mother ; 
 
 " Now we have got rid of those two women per- 
 haps I can have my husband to myself. As for 
 his writing long letters to his mother, to be read 
 loj that girl, I won't have it ! It is just as bad 
 as it would be to write to her, and I won't have 
 that ! Perry's mother is just the one to help it 
 along. I win see if I can't play a little against 
 them. I will keep Perry so busy that he shall 
 not have time for writing sentimental letters.. 
 Those two simpletons shall not carry their point 
 that way. They wUl make a fool of Perry if I 
 do not prevent it. Why, I actually believe that 
 girl fancies Perry thinks he has made a mistake 
 in marrying me ! I should think his devotion to 
 his wife would convince her of her blunder. 
 Why, he actually gave up going to New York as 
 an escort for his mother because he fancied that 
 I would miss him. They aU made a great fuss 
 about Ms want of affection for his poor, dying 
 mother. But it had no sort of effect upon him, 
 and he staid behind in spite of them. I wUl say, 
 I have the most devoted husband in the world ; 
 that is, so far as his throat and his mustard-plas- 
 ters will let him be. And now that they are out 
 of the way, I fancy I shall be able to manage 
 him and the mustard, too. It is all nonsense, 
 this petting and dosing. A little vigorous let- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 215 
 
 ting alone, when lie gets in one of his down 
 spells, will be better than mustard. I am going 
 to take matters into my own hands. And as for 
 his writing long letters for that girl to read, he 
 shall not do it — not if I can help it." 
 
18. 
 
 EUNICE S LETTEE TO PEEBY AND ELEAN"OE. 
 
 New Yoek, May 13, 18—. 
 Dear Friends at Home : 
 
 You two people ought to write oftener to j'our 
 mother. I know you have a great many cares in 
 that bustling place, with a large family to look 
 after, and all that sort of thing ! But, for all 
 that, you shouldn't neglect your mother. Her 
 poor drawn face qiiivered pitifully when I had to 
 tell her there was no letter to-day ; and yesterday 
 it was only a postal. I don't mean to be cross, 
 but I have been feeling a little indignant at you 
 all day. Now please reform. Your mother is 
 better. I can see quite an improvement, and 
 I'm sure Dr. Mason feels a good deal encour- 
 aged. If she had nothing to worry about, she 
 would get along faster ; but. Perry, I can see 
 that she worries about you. She imagines that, 
 because you don't write long letters to her, you 
 are therefore not able. If you were sick, I am 
 not sure but the might of her mother-love would 
 216 
 
From Different Standpoints. 217 
 
 enable lier to rise up from her sick-bed and go to 
 you. I don't believe it is a Christian duty to 
 neglect such a mother. There, I didn't mean to 
 say another word on that subject ! 
 
 I'll tell you who is real good to her — almost 
 like a son — your brother, Tom Haddington. Did 
 you know he was here ? He has been boarding 
 with Aunt Ruth, by spells, all winter. That I 
 suppose 3'ou knew, though I didn't. And he is 
 taking quite a long spell at it now. It is a fortu- 
 nate thing for your mother. He comes up to see 
 her every clay, always with a flower, or a bud, or 
 an orange, or some sweet-smelling offering. She 
 watches for him, and follows him wistfulty with 
 her eyes when he departs. Perhaps as much as 
 anything, she enjoys the prayers that he offers at 
 her bedside. He does pray as though he were 
 used to it, and believed in it, and rejoiced in it ; 
 very few people pray in that way, you know. I think 
 such praying must be helpful to one who is sick. 
 He is very thoughtful, never forgetting to come, 
 for a few moments, as soon as she is able to see 
 him in the morning, and again just before her 
 room is closed to callers at night ; this, beside the 
 bright little calls made between times. In fact, 
 Perry, possibly your brother-in-law will usurp 
 the place you have hitherto held in your mother's 
 heart. How should you like that ? 
 
 He is rather good to most people except me. 
 
218 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 I hope Eleanor will forgive me for saying that 
 about her brother ; but he has been ugly to me, 
 and I feel like having so much revenge. I'll tell 
 you about it. He came to me last evening, and 
 said he and Aunt Ruth had been plotting against 
 me. They were of the opinion that I had too 
 quiet and pleasant a time up in that sunny south 
 room, from morning till night, with nothing to 
 do except to be cheery to a loving and patient in- 
 valid ; that I must yield my place to Aunt Ruth, 
 for the evening, and be taken out to breathe a 
 little of outside life, that I might be the better 
 able to appreciate the sweetness and rest of my 
 retreat ; and considerable more high-sounding 
 stuff. I was very willing to agree to the plan, 
 inasmuch as your mother fancies Aunt Ruth very 
 much, seeming to really desire her presence ; and 
 as for Aunt Ruth, she has taken one of her in- 
 sane and intense fancies for the invalid, and 
 would go down on her knees to serve her. I had 
 a plan also, and it needed Mr. Haddington, or 
 some other masculine, to help me carry it out. 
 The moment he proposed my going out with him 
 that evening, I saw my way clearly. 
 
 " Make it to-morrow evening," I said, eagerly, 
 "and I shall be delighted. There is a place to 
 which I very much want to go, to-morrow." 
 
 He looked so grave over that that I hastened 
 to assure liim that it was not a theatre, or any 
 
From Different Standpoints. 219 
 
 other disreputable place, tliat I wanted to attend^, 
 but a church. 
 
 "I want to hear Dr. Rogers," I said. "He 
 was my father's pastor ever so many years ago ; 
 indeed, he married my father and mother, and I 
 have always wanted to see and hear him. I no- 
 ticed by the morning paper that he was to preach 
 in Brooklyn all day to-morrow, and, if you can 
 take me in the evening, I shall be able to please 
 my father with an account of his sermon." 
 
 I wish you could have seen the young gentle- 
 man's face as it looked when I had ceased speak- 
 ing ! It was as grave and disturbed as though I 
 had proposed marriage to him then and there. 
 
 " I'm very sorrj'-," he began, hesitatingly, and 
 then stopping in distress. 
 
 " Why, never mind," I hastened to say. " Of 
 course you may have other engagements. I 
 meant if you had no other plans I should like it ; 
 not, of course, if it interferes. I dare say some 
 of the boarders will be going over, and I can ac- 
 company them." 
 
 " It isn't that," he said, instantly, as if he were 
 afraid I would give him credit for a motive that 
 did not exist. " The trouble lies in reaching 
 there." 
 
 "Eeaching there?" I repeated, in bewilder- 
 ment. " Why, don't the ferry-boats and street- 
 cars run as usual ? " 
 
220 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 ■"I presume they do," he answered, his dis- 
 turbed look deepening, if anything, while Aunt 
 Ruth, looking from one to the other of us, smiled 
 sardonically. " But the difficulty. Miss Eunice, 
 lies in the fact that J do not ride on street-cars, 
 or ferry-boats, as a rule, on Sundays." 
 
 "In the name of common sense, why?" I 
 asked, in downright and genuine perplexity, for 
 this was a form of extreme religiousness with 
 which I had never come in contact before. Of 
 course it is because street-cars do not run in 
 Nassau, for, even while I write, I feel instinc- 
 tively that you. Perry, would be taken in the 
 same way, was there the slightest provocation. 
 But I didn't think of it then, and was honestly 
 bewildered. 
 
 " Why," I protested, " how could people get 
 to church if they didn't ride in the street-cars, at 
 least, to say nothing of the ferry-boats ? " 
 
 " As a matter of argument," he answered, com- 
 posedly, " I presume I could prove to you that it 
 is not a question of reaching church, but a neces- 
 sity which is supposed to exist for reaching the 
 particular church of one's choice. There are 
 churches within easy walking distance of the ma- 
 jority of the people who frequent street-cars. 
 But what if there were no other way of attending 
 public service on the Sabbath, except by break- 
 ing one of the express commandments of the 
 
From Different Standpoints. 221 
 
 Loid in regard to the Sabbath-day — ^what wotild 
 at prove, Miss Una? " 
 
 But I was too much vexed with him to argue, 
 you may be sure. Did you ever liear of such an 
 absurdly inconvenient conscience ? I wonder 
 how such people manage to live in this wicked 
 world? I told him he ought to be translated, 
 and he answered, quietly, that he lived in restful 
 expectation of that event. One dab I made at 
 him and missed. I had heard, only the day be- 
 fore, that some of the very wealthy, gentlemen of 
 the city had to do with street-railroad stock, and, 
 from a conversation that I had overheard, I 
 imagined him to be one of them ; so I said : 
 
 " I should think if ifc was such a wicked thing 
 to ride on street-cars on Sunday, it would be al- 
 most as wicked to grow rich from the proceeds 
 of other people's riding." 
 
 " In which I entirely agree with you," he said. 
 " I can not conceive how Christian people make 
 it seem right." 
 
 I didn't make much by that argument, you 
 perceive ; neither did I get to hear Dr. Rogers. 
 I assured your polite brother-in-law that I could 
 not think of allowing him to sully his conscience 
 for me. But I needn't have said it in the hope 
 that he would be mortified ; instead, he simply 
 bowed, and said : 
 
 " Of course a Christian has no right to violate 
 
222 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 his conscience to please anyhody" whicli was a 
 polite way of saying, " Don't be disturbed, I 
 haven't the slightest intention of going." 
 
 I attended church in the evening from sheer 
 self-weariness, and a desire to do something ; and 
 I put down my wrath and went with Mr. Had- 
 dington, because he asked me, and because there 
 was nothing else to do, or no other way to go. 
 We heard what he pronounced a powerful ser- 
 mon. It was about forgiving one's enemies. He 
 proved conclusively that no one had a right to 
 live and breathe the air of heaven who cherished 
 enmity in his heart, or something like that. So, 
 if j'ou two people have any enemies, you must 
 forgive them before you say j'our prayers to- 
 night. I forgot to say the text was, " If I re- 
 gard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear 
 me." Wicked people have no right to pray, it 
 seems. That is one comfort. My conscience 
 needn't trouble me any more for a neglect of 
 that duty, as it is clearly not a duty for me. 
 
 There ! this letter must close. I meant it to 
 have been a long one, containing much more 
 about your mother, but Mr. Haddington, who is 
 sitting with her, has just called to me that she 
 wants me, and, before I can return, it will be 
 mail-time. So I will wait until to-morrow for 
 further particulars. Meantime, this is far more 
 than you deserve ; and I have said nothing about 
 
From Different Standpoints. 223 
 
 my boys ! I shall write to them ; tell Joe Stone 
 so. Good-by, Una. 
 
 [eeom Eunice's jotjenai;.] 
 
 This evening I sent a letter to Perry, which 
 contained a few grains of truth, swimming in a 
 sea of deceptions. It was a wicked letter ! I 
 enjoyed every line of it. How Mrs. Eleanor will 
 wince over my somewhat elaborate description of 
 her aristocratic brother's attentions to poor little 
 me, who am now nothing but a hired companion 
 for her husband's mother, doing what a daughter 
 and son ought to do for her. I made much of 
 Mr. Tom Haddington; his attentions and his 
 conscience ; yet I did not say what I thought. I 
 did not tell them that I honored the man from 
 the very depths of my soul for his firm, grand 
 adherence to right, or to his views of right, even 
 when I knew very well he would do a good deal 
 to please me. What a trial to Mrs. Eleanor. 
 Her brother stooping to please me ! I should 
 think that to her would be almost worse than to 
 have her husband on friendly terms with me. I 
 didn't tell the truth about that sermon, either ; 
 it was a powerful one, and it was to those who 
 are not Christians as much as to others — more 
 so, perhaps. It made me feel strangely. I have 
 been unable to get away from it ever since. I 
 
224 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 have always had a feeling that I could be a Chris- 
 tian whenever I chose, and that I certainly would 
 he one sometime ; I could not be separated from 
 my father and mother for an eternity. Yet, now 
 it seems to me that I never can be, not if that 
 preacher's theories are correct; for there is one 
 woman in this world that I have no desire to for- 
 give, and if I had the desire I haven't the power. 
 I can never forgive Eleanor Harrison. That looks 
 awful, put in black and white. I did not know I 
 was so wicked. Yet I feel in my soul that it is 
 true. I can not forgive her. More than that, I 
 can't want to. She has stabbed me too often and 
 too sorely. I could forgive her slighting way of 
 speaking to me ; I could forgive her insolence in 
 speaking of me or in writing about me, but her 
 slow shipwreck of her husband's life, and the 
 cold and cruel hand with which she holds him 
 away from his mother's dying bed are acts not to 
 be forgiven. She is his wife, and if she had been 
 to him what she ought to have been I believe I 
 could feel, oh so different, even though I know 
 now, what no otlier soul will ever know, that she 
 ought never to have been his wife. I am the 
 one whom Perry ought to have married ! That 
 looks strangely, written here, before my eyes. 
 What would become of me if other eyes than 
 mine were ever to see it? But it is true. I 
 could have been to him all that a wife ought to 
 
From Different Standpoints. 225 
 
 be ; I could have helped him, mentally and phy- 
 sically ; yes, and ia time, spiritually. She never 
 can; or, worse than that, never will. And for 
 her utter disregard for his feelings, and aims, and 
 aspirations, I hate her, even more than I hate 
 her for myself. If to be a Christian means to 
 forgive Eleanor Harrison, and to look upon her 
 with endurance, even to love her, as the Bible 
 phrases it, then I can never be a Christian, for I 
 can never do it, never. It would be an easy 
 enough thing to be a Fatalist — that is, if I knew 
 what Fatalists are or what they believe ; perhaps 
 I know as well as they know themselves. But 
 how is it possible for people to suppose that the 
 little things of life are ordered by an overruling 
 Providence, a Providence that knows the end 
 from the beginning ! Why my whole life is an 
 utter refutation of such a theory. Why should 
 God, if he took the trouble to care anything 
 about me, have thrown my life in unison with 
 Perry Harrison's from my babyhood, linki ng it 
 closely with his up to the time when, without 
 planning of mine or knowledge of mine, it had 
 grown to be part of me — necessary, so I thought, 
 to my very existence, and then snapped the 
 thread, and, instead of putting the ocean or the 
 Alps between us, setting us side by side, for me 
 to endure insult and misery, and never be able to 
 lift a finger to break the chaia ? Where is the 
 
226 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 wisdom or the love in that ? Doesn't he know 
 what I could have been to Perry Harrison? 
 Then he knows less than an ignorant, sinful girl ? 
 Doesn't he care ? Then he is not the tender God 
 who plans all things for good. Or, caring, can 
 not he help it? Then he is not God at all. 
 What can one think ? I am weary with think- 
 ing. I wish I need never do any more of it. 
 Yet, what faith some people have ! Still, when I 
 think of it, it is the faith of people who have not 
 been tried. After all, what does Perry Harrison 
 know about trial ? His. own sickness is the ex- 
 tent of his trouble, and bodily sickness is not by 
 any means so hard to bear as some other tilings. 
 He has told me a dozen times that he sees the 
 hand of love in that. What if he imderstood his 
 wife as well as I understand her, instead of sup- 
 posing her to be all purity and grandeur ? Then 
 there is Tom Haddington. A grand man, in- 
 deed. But why shouldn't he be ? What has he 
 had to make him otherwise ? A son of fortune 
 and of luxury, the hardest trial he knows any- 
 thing about is to wait on his mother to the door 
 of the opera, and sit in the carriage for half an 
 hour before it closes, waiting for her, because his 
 conscience, which really, in him at least, needs to 
 be translated his inclination, will not permit him 
 to attend. InteUectuallj'- he is above the opera, 
 and he thinks it is his conscience. As for JMr. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 227 
 
 Romaine, tlie very quiet of Ms face tells that the 
 road of his life has been as smooth and level as 
 the floor. Such people have no difficulty in be- 
 lieving that their lives were planned for them. 
 But why was mine planned for me in such bitter 
 by-ways ? 
 
 Now, here is another change. Just as I was 
 getting interested in those boys, struggling to 
 help them — really eager to do so: — making plans 
 for their advancement, suddenly I must be taken 
 up without plan or desire of mine, and set down 
 here a hundred miles away from them, and put 
 in such a position that I can do nothing to help 
 them. The only piece of work for others that I 
 ever undertook, from an honest desire to help 
 along people who were nothing to me, and it is 
 whisked out of my hands. Why ? Any one can 
 see that I was doing them good ; any one can see 
 that I was needed there. Where is the wisdom 
 in this planning ? 
 
 Oh, Eunice Taylor, what would your blessed 
 father think of this wicked writing ! He shall 
 never see it, nor know of it, nor of the bitterness 
 of my life ! Dear, precious, self-sacrificing father ! 
 He would have planned life so smoothly for me, 
 if he had the power. Well, meantime, I have had 
 the. exquisite pleasure of writing to Mrs. Eleanor 
 as though I were her very sister. I have advised 
 and scolded. I have proved the familiarity of 
 
228 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 my friendship witli lier brotlier Tom, and made 
 her feel thoroughly and helplessly esasperated, I 
 believe. For that bit of exquisite pleasure that 
 has fallen to my lot, let me be thankful. 
 
 Now I must go to Mother Harrison. She loves 
 me. And oh, how dearly I love her ! She is 
 Perry's mother! 
 
19. 
 
 FEOM PEREY TO HIS MOTHEE. 
 
 Nassau, Sept. 28, 18—. 
 My Bear Mother : 
 
 Don't, I pray, think me a forgetful or unduti- 
 ful son, thougli my letters have not been as 
 prompt as we could both of us wish. I have 
 been very busy, and, while I am quite as well as 
 usual, a little extra exertion alwa5"s uses me up. 
 What have I been doing ? Very little, when I 
 come to think it over, but someway the tvne has 
 been pretty well occupied. For one thing, we 
 have had company almost constantly. When 
 there has been a lull, we have had to pay visits, 
 and you know how exhausting it is to me to do 
 much in the line of visiting. But Eleanor has so 
 many unpaid calls on her list that it seemed best 
 to undertake to return some of them; and she 
 likes to draw her friends around her. Yesterday 
 I went out in quest of a girl to take the place of 
 iloUy, who has gone away for a while ; some- 
 way, she and Eleanor did not get on very well 
 
 229 
 
230 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 together. I suppose that Molly has lived here.so 
 long that she seems presuming sometimes to one 
 "who is a new-comer, ancL unaccustomed to the 
 ways of the house. Anyway, it seemed best for 
 the happiness of all of us that Molly should 
 leave ; and, as Una's mother is not strong, and 
 misses her daughter's helping hands, I have ar- 
 ranged for Molly to stay there until you all come 
 home; and, as I said, I was out all day yester- 
 day trying to find a substitute. I found a stout 
 German girl, but I think I shall not care to in- 
 trust the cleaning up of my study to her clumsy 
 hands. When I can not stand it any longer, I 
 can send for LloUy to come over and fix me up. 
 
 So much as to domestic affairs. I am afraid 
 that I shall make bungling work of keeping you 
 informed as to our housekeeping successes and 
 failures* though it may be easy to record successes ! 
 Eleanor hates housekeeping, and knows as little 
 about the management of a hoiise as a child. 
 Eut you must not be worried. I was not alto- 
 gether the loser in those years of my life that I 
 was forbidden the use of books, and shut in from 
 active out-door amusement. I do know consid- 
 erable about household matters, and, if necessary, 
 I am not sure that I should not be able to act as 
 housekeeper ! Do you remember the cake I 
 made oh your birthday, long ago ? However, I 
 will say that these things are not to my taste. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 231 
 
 And, while I can truly declare that I do not re- 
 bel at the life I am compelled to lead — for I 
 lino-w that my time is in the Father's hands, and 
 He makes me His instrument of work here — still 
 there come hours when all the brightness of the 
 career which I had marked out for myself, in my 
 imiversity days, spreads itself out before me, 
 making the shadows of the present only deepen 
 by contrast. Living in the busy world, grap- 
 pling with the questions of the hour, in a hand- 
 to-hand fight, having physical strength to match 
 mental energy — how I should have gloried in it ! 
 It seems now, looking on from afar, that I might 
 have done work that would tell ! And yet, " He 
 leadcth me," and I can rest in the belief that all 
 thwarted schemes — all failures — are but God's 
 hedging in for other purposes, and even our mis- 
 takes he will overrule for good. I think that the 
 results of our mistakes are the hardest to bear. 
 Y/'e can lay the blame nowhere off our own shoul- 
 ders, and, put it as we will, the best we can say 
 is, that if wo had made use of the light given us, 
 we' might have seen the right. And yet God, in 
 his wonderful mercy and love, makes use of our 
 blunders to raise us up toward himself. We 
 ourselves may do something in the midst of dis- 
 advantages. Sometimes splendid victories are 
 won by the retrieval of blunders. It is a good 
 general who organizes victory out of mistakes. 
 
232 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 And is it not a wise man who uses his own mis- 
 takes as stepping-stones to something, higher? 
 We have seen something of this already in the 
 working of our httle enterprise here among our 
 people. We made some errors in our planning, 
 but out of them grew better things, and I am 
 hopeful as to final results. Una's boys are doing 
 finely, and, though they miss her, it may be that 
 a little absence will only strengthen her hold 
 upon them. Joe Stone flourished a bulky letter 
 at me this morning, as I went down town, so I 
 conclude that j^ou will be in receipt of the latest 
 news. Miss Wilbur makes a very good teacher, 
 and she told me, last night, that it was her first 
 taste of the luxury of helping somebody! So 
 you see that every extremity of ours gives God 
 an opportunity to do a new thing for us. Louise 
 Wilbur to the front, in Christian work, wiQ be 
 an advance which will surely tell all along the 
 line ! 
 
 Eunice, you must not let my mother worry 
 about me ; I am really quite well. Eleanor says 
 that she is going to burn up and throw away "all 
 the medicine in the house, and make a new man 
 of me out of the necessity of doing without 
 tonics, etc. What will Dr. Mason say to the 
 new regime ? If I were only rid of the trouble- 
 some pain in the side, and had a little more 
 strength of muscle, I shoiiLd be good for half a 
 
From Different Standpoints. 233 
 
 century of work. But, lest the time be short, 
 I must be busy. We have delightful weather, 
 and I think that we will go to Redwood, for a 
 day or two, soon. Daisy writes that Aunt Phebe 
 is not well, and I would like to see her again. 
 So, if all is well, we will run up for a short visit. 
 It will be a taste of a life quite new to Eleanor, 
 for ours is not the real country after all. We 
 must go farther back among these hills to find 
 the old open fireplace, the five o'clock breakfast, 
 and the twelve o'clock dinner, which are Elea- 
 nor's especial abhorrence. But these, with the 
 nine o'clock bedtime, we shall find at Uncle Na- 
 than's. 
 
 I almost wish that we were going to-day. That 
 desire grows out of a bit of cowardice on my 
 part. There is to be a lecture at Frasier Hall 
 this evening, and Eleanor is anxious to hear the 
 man, who is said to be very eloquent, but is a 
 notorious infidel. I said to Eleanor, this morn- 
 ing: 
 
 " I woiild not go where you would be insulted, 
 or my mother, much less can I go where I know 
 that my best Friend will be blasphemed." 
 
 But every one does not see it that Avay, and 
 the man's attractions, in a scientific point of view, 
 are so great that he draws crowds, and among 
 them are many Christian people, who mistakenly 
 think they can walk through the slum and not 
 
234 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 he contaminated. Not even by my humble pres- 
 ence will I countenance sucli a man. And, if 
 ■we were out of town, I should not have the pain 
 of refusing to accompany my wife, as she wishes ; 
 but then, again, if I ran away, I should not have 
 the consciousness of being perfectly straightfor- 
 ward. 
 
 There is the dinner-bell! JMother, forgive 
 your boy, and don't let Tom Haddington usurp 
 my place. God bless the boy ! I know of no 
 one with whom I would sooner share your love. 
 Una, thank him for me, for all his kindness to 
 her and to you. 
 
 Very lovingly, your son, and brother, 
 
 Peeey. 
 
 The letter finished, folded and ready for the 
 mail, Perry went down to dinner. Eleanor was 
 there before him, though she was not remarkable 
 for promptness. 
 
 " Y/cU," she greeted him, " I did not Icqow but 
 you were going to turn yourself into a letter ! I 
 hope that precious epistle, which you have spent 
 the morning over, h not as long as your face. I 
 declare. Perry, I am truly thankful that I am a 
 married woman ; you do write such frightfully 
 long letters ! Sometimes it would be two or 
 three days before I reached the end of one of 
 
From Different Standpoints. 235 
 
 tliose you used to write to me me when I was in 
 Europe ! " 
 
 Perry laughed ; perhaps it was a trifle forced, 
 but it was his policy to understand Eleanor's 
 sharpness as pleasantry, until he was perfectly 
 sure it was something else. 
 
 " You are relieved from that infliction now, 
 though it may be at the expense of a heavier 
 one ! " he said. 
 
 " I had quite a long letter . from Tom this 
 morning," said Eleanor, " and I wrote one to 
 mother. I thought I might as well do that as 
 anything, knowing that I should not get a 
 glimpse of you so long as the house contained a 
 sheet of paper. About how many quires did you 
 use ? I told mother I was writing a long letter, 
 because I never expected to have a chance at 
 pen or paper after this, for you had taken to 
 sending whole reams to your mother." 
 
 Then they fell to discussing plans for the even- 
 ing, and so filled up the dinner-hour. As Perry 
 was going up-stairs, half an hour later, Eleanor 
 said, calling after him : 
 
 " Perry, there is a letter on my dressing-table 
 which you may like to read. Just step in and 
 get it. I'll be up to the library by and by to 
 talk it over." 
 
 " All right," returned Perry, passing on up 
 the stairs, never suspecting that it might be all 
 wrong. 
 
236 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 The letter wMcli lie found was not Tom's, as 
 lie had supposed, and he even ventured to look 
 around a little for her brother's letter ; but there 
 was only one in sight, and he concluded that El- 
 eanor had been proposing something to her 
 mother which she wished to discuss with her hus- 
 band, so he seated himself in his library-chair 
 and settled to the reading of what was almost as 
 long a letter as some of his own. Parts of it ran 
 like this: 
 
 Deae Mother : — You must look after Tom ! 
 That absurd boy will ruin himself in spite of us, 
 if we do not have a care ! I declare, I thought 
 when we got that girl off to New York with 
 Mother Harrison we were going to have peace. 
 But it is worse now she is there. She ^mrites to 
 Perry for his mother, and manages to put in a 
 good deal of her own affairs. It would appear, 
 from her story, that Tom is devoting himself to 
 Mother Harrison with a more than filial self-ab- 
 negation, and of course he is constantly coming 
 in contact with Miss Taylor. Mother, we must 
 not let the boy go on so. 
 
 Here Perry smiled in spite of himself, as Tom 
 Haddington was five years his sister's senior. 
 Her assumption of superiority was somewhat 
 amusing. The letter went on : 
 
From Different Standpoints. 237 
 
 Now, mamma, I succeeded in thwarting that 
 girl's plans once, and I will do it again ; she 
 shall not entangle my brother. I am not so de- 
 voted to my husband's family, nor to my hus- 
 band, either, that I would not risk something to 
 save Tom. There ! Was that a wicked thing 
 to say? Well, mamma dear, you know that 
 Perry Harrison only gave me half a heart, and, 
 although I will own that I think he did it hon- 
 estly, supposing that it was all he had, and I 
 don't think that he has found out his mistake to 
 this day ; yet I despise him for it ! And I — well, 
 I was fond of him, I suppose, in my way ; but I 
 am not one of the sort to marry for love, and I 
 should never have married him had I known 
 about this Miss Taylor before our engagement. 
 Bui I would never have it said that another wo- 
 man came between us, so I married him, rather 
 than be the victim of a broken engagement. But 
 it is a fact that Perry has made one grand mis- 
 take, perfect as he pretends to be — the mistake 
 of having married a woman who knows him bet- 
 ter than he knows himself, and who means to 
 use that knowledge to punish him for his folly. 
 Of course Miss Taylor owes me a grudge for 
 supplanting her in my lord's regards, and is mor- 
 tified and angry that she fails to make him hate 
 me, and now she is going to try to spite me 
 through Tom. I am sUly to give the matter a 
 
238 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 thought, I know, and j'ou will laugh at me ; for 
 of course Tom understands his position, and 
 knows that he can never marry Eunice. Still, it 
 annoys me, and I wish you would look after him 
 a little more closely. I shall be there myself in 
 the course of a few weeks to manage things. I 
 am determined that I shall not stay cooped up 
 here much longer. There is so much nonsense 
 talked about sea air and city atmosphere being 
 bad for Perry, and everybody is supposed to be 
 only too willing to sacrifice themselves for his ben- 
 efit. Now, I never did sacrifice myself for any- 
 body, and I shall not begin now. And Dr. Ma- 
 son — what an old humbug he is ! And Mother 
 Harrison and aU the rest may hold their peace, 
 for I will not endure this prison life forever. 
 
 Now, mamma, don't shake your head and sigh 
 over me. I assure you that we are a model 
 couple. I have heard it remarked, "How per- 
 fectly devoted Mr. Harrison is to his wife," and, 
 " How adoringly the young wife looks up to her 
 husband," and all that sort of stuff. So you see, 
 mamma, that you need not fear any scandal. 
 Both Perry and I will have the good sense to 
 keep any httle differences we may have quite to 
 ourselves. Perry understands that I am not ac- 
 customed to dictation, and acts accordingly, and 
 he is always ready to sacrifice himself to my 
 whims, and I let him. It is no more than fair, 
 
From Different Standpoints. 239 
 
 having been cheated, I am going to make the 
 most of what I have. 
 
 It is fortunate that I never formed the habit of 
 showing my letters to my husband. This would 
 hardly bear inspection, would it ? I just wonder 
 what would be the result if Perry should walk in 
 and read over my shoulder what I have written ! 
 But he won't. He never did such a thing in liis 
 life. It is some consolation to feel that one's 
 husband is a gentleman. 
 
 Perry Harrison had no thought, until he reached 
 this point of the letter, that it was not intended 
 for his eyes. It was a succession of cruel stabs, 
 but he thought they were all meant to reach him. 
 With them had come into his own heart such a 
 revelation as made him turn pale and sick. That 
 day in the library, when he listened to the heart- 
 less words of his wife spoken to Una, the truth 
 had only half-dawned upon hiip. But here it 
 was, so plain that he wondered how it was he 
 had been so slow to gain this knowledge. 
 
 There was more of the letter, but with the 
 conviction that it was not the right one, he folded 
 and returned it to Eleanor's table, and in a state 
 of bewildering thought wondered what he should 
 say. The future was too black and heavy to 
 look at just then, and he sat there with just this 
 thought. What next ? when Eleanor glided in, 
 with a letter in her hand. 
 
240 From- Different Standpoints. 
 
 " Why, Perry," she said, " here's Tom's letter 
 in my pocket ! Did you hunt for it ? " 
 
 " Not much ; but I found one which I sup- 
 posed was the one you wished me to read. It was 
 a letter to your mother that was lying upon the 
 table." 
 
 For a moment a look of utter consternation 
 swept over Eleanor's face. Then quickly recover- 
 ing herself, she said, laughing : 
 
 " Why, Perry ! Save you been reading that 
 piece of nonsense ? " 
 
 " Not all of it. I concluded that it was not 
 the one you wished me to see." 
 
 " Oh, I don't care ; only I fear you did not ap- 
 preciate the humor of it. Mother and I always 
 had a way of talking and writing nonsense in a 
 sort of tragical way to amuse each other, and as 
 we understand it so, no harm comes of it." 
 
 " Eleanor, I understand it, perfectly. You 
 need give yourself no uneasiness in regard to the 
 matter." 
 
 With this remark, spoken in his usual tones, 
 Perry passed out of the room, just turning back 
 to say: 
 
 " I believe you wished to talk something over 
 with me. I shall be at your service in an hour ; 
 or we can talk as we drive this afternoon." 
 
 Standing there where he left her, utterly 
 dumbfounded, Eleanor thought : I wonder what 
 
From Different Standpoints. 241 
 
 would make him forget to be polite ! Of this 
 letter to her mother she was thoroughly ashamed. 
 ' Not for worlds would she have him know her 
 just as she stood revealed there. She felt that, 
 laugh it off as she would, henceforth he knew her 
 as she was ; and that when he said, " I ilnder- 
 gtand," he did understand. 
 
 It did not take her long to recover herself. 
 Such people never waste time in taking up a po- 
 sition. Having determined upon her course, she 
 went quietly to her room to make an elaborate 
 toilet, for they had planned to call upon the Wil- 
 burs, and the Wilburs were people for whom 
 even Eleanor Harrison thought it worth while to 
 be particular. 
 
 As for Perry, now all was clear to him. The 
 fearful mistake he had made stood up before him 
 in aU its shame and horror. And this woman 
 whom he had made his wife, whom he had looked 
 upon as pure and womanly, was she indeed false 
 and wicked ? Never again could he call her sar- 
 casms and whims pleasantries. And she, for 
 whom he would have sacrificed so much, had, 
 with the utmost coolness, declared herself willing 
 to sacrifice him if he stood in her way ! It was 
 an hour of fearful shame and agony — the agony 
 of remorse — for Perry fuily realized that he had 
 not been blameless. 
 
 When Eleanor appeared, ready for the proposed 
 
242 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 ride, she found her husband waiting upon the 
 steps. He helped her in, took his place beside 
 her with his usual manner. If Eleanor expected 
 a scene, she was disappointed ; but she ought to 
 have learned by this time that her husband was 
 not the sort of person to act in a scene. 
 
 Ten days later Perry wrote in the old jour- 
 nal: 
 
 The fearful revelations of the past few days 
 have been lite a succession of whirlwinds passing 
 over my soul. At length I have settled into a 
 calm. It can be endured, this life which I must 
 henceforth lead. But it is a bitter thought that 
 my own folly and wrong-doing have brought sor- 
 row upon us all ; for that Eleanor suffers I can 
 not doubt. And Una! Oh, God, why was I so 
 blind ! Why did I not know that Eunice Taylor 
 was more to me than this woman whom I have 
 made my wife ? For I know now that it is true 
 that the love I gave her, calling it " brotherly," 
 was deeper and stronger than all other loves. I 
 know now that I must pay with va.j own happiness 
 the life-long penalty of my wretched mistake. 
 And if that were the whole of the price I could 
 bear it. But she, too, must bear the sting of my 
 unfaithfulness — she whom I had loved and cher- 
 ished aU my life, until I was bewildered and fas- 
 cinated by the beautiful Eleanor. Of all 
 wretched things in this life, can there be any 
 
From Different Standpoints. 243 
 
 ■worse than a loveless marriage? And this is 
 ours 1 In plain words it is just that ! God help 
 us both ! 
 
 Two days ago I wrote to mother and Una, and 
 I remember I said something about mistakes, and 
 what good might grow out of them. But what 
 of the mistakes that are fatal 1 Will all our lives 
 be miserable failures because of this ? Our vows 
 were " until death," and, with God's help, I wiU. 
 be a faithful husband ; and by and by there will 
 come peace, and then not very far away will be 
 the end. Since I have began to see things as 
 they are, I have said a thousand times, " Fool 
 that I have been ! " How could I ever have 
 blundered so miserably ? When I was lying so 
 near to death, at Uncle Nathan's, it was Eunice 
 Taylor, and not my promised wife, who came to 
 me ; it was Eunice who was so anxious to have 
 me become a Cliristian ; it was she who is to-day 
 like a daughter to my mother, and who should 
 have been my wife. But it is too late now, and 
 the work before me is to make the best of what 
 is ; to bring, if I can, something of symmetry out 
 of the wretched, misshapen thing that I have 
 made of the gift which God gave me to fashion 
 and shape into his likeness as a Christian. There 
 is but one thing left to do, and that is to bear 
 this burden patiently, and to help the others to 
 bear it, making it lighter for them when I can, 
 
244 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 and, looking ever unto Christ, wait quietly for 
 the end ; not in idle waiting, but, with what 
 strength I have, doing his work. 
 
20. 
 
 Amidst all tlie apparent tangle of affairs, and 
 apparent mistakes, and real heartaches, things 
 moved steadily toward one accomplishment, 
 which probably the eye of God saw, as he saw all 
 things else ; and he loiew the end, and caused the 
 wrath of man to praise him, and decreed that the 
 mistakes should work out fruit to his praise. ' 
 
 Still, to those who were looking on, it all ap- 
 peared a mistake. Eleanor Harrison, bewildered 
 — ^not to say frightened — ^by the utter sUence of 
 her husband, and detecting in his manner toward 
 her a certain passive endurance of her society, 
 rather than pleasure in it, was not the least mis- 
 erable of the people whose lives were woven into, 
 each other. She sent her miserable letter, not 
 without adding to it, on the same evening of her 
 ride with her husband, the following postscript : 
 
 " Mamma, what do you think ! Perry saw my 
 letter, after all ! I wouldn't have had it occur for 
 a thousand dollars ! Not that I mean much of any- 
 thing, of course, except about Tom. I'm in ear- 
 nest about that, and there is real danger. The 
 
 245 
 
146 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 ;irl Las a sort of fascinating way about her, that 
 ttracts just such thoughtless people as Tom, and 
 lasses for talent. But it is so horrid to have had 
 'erry reading all this stuff ! I would burn it 
 low, instead of sending it, only I want you to 
 ee just how horrid it is, and tell me what you 
 hink. Of course I was vexed when I wrote it, 
 hat girl's letters exasperate me so ! Perry is 
 ood about it, just as he is about everything. If 
 e were not so uncomfortably good, there never 
 rould have been any trouble. I never intended 
 3 marry a saint. I wanted a comfortable sort of 
 inner, like myself; and Perry Harrison cer- 
 iinly stood very well in that character when I 
 romised to marry him ; but now I might as well 
 e the wife of a home missionary, and be done 
 dth it ! 
 
 "Now, I'm running on again, so as to have 
 Dme more to repent of ! Just read this letter, 
 nd tell me what you think of me — to ease your 
 lind, you know ; and then burn the letter, so 
 bat -no more evil will come of it. That horrid 
 rerman girl is shouting at me from the foot of 
 tie stairs ! I shall teach her better than that, 
 t was through a blunder of mine that Perry got 
 old of the wrong letter. He is much too per- 
 3ct to have read it, except by accident. 
 
 Eleanor." 
 
From Different Standpoints. 247 
 
 Was it only anotlier mistake that tlie silly 
 mother, to whom a daughter dared to write such 
 wicked letters, instead of burning it, carried it 
 around in her pocket, sighing over it with all her 
 heart, weeping tears occasionally over portions of 
 it ; for where her daughter was wicked, she was 
 sometimes only weak. And at last, three weeks 
 after she had received it and answered it, receiv- 
 ing no reply, and fearing she hardly knew what, 
 suddenly drew it forth one evening, and, with a 
 half laugh, half sigh, handed it to Tom, who had 
 run down from New York to see how she was, 
 with the remark : 
 
 " Here, Tom, I ought not to worry alone. See 
 what a life Eleanor is leading, and tell me whether 
 there is any truth in her fears that you are being 
 entangled, too. I'm sure I hope one of my chil- 
 dren will have sense enough not to disgrace his 
 mother." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " Tom asked, vaguely, 
 frightened by her hints ; but he took the letter, 
 and retired with it to a side-table. 
 
 He read it slowly, carefully ; and yet, pausing 
 over, even spelling, every word, it could hardly 
 have taken him as iong to master the contents as 
 he sat, holding those daintily-written sheets be- 
 fore his face. 
 
 " Well," his mother said, at last, speaking 
 sharply, for ^is silence made her anxious. " What 
 
248 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 do you tHnk ? It surely .isn't in Sanscrit, that 
 you should be so long in deciphering it ! " 
 
 "I think," he said, speaking slowly, and com-, 
 ing toward her as he spoke. " I think that my 
 sister would be ashamed to have me read that' 
 letter. For the atom of self-respect that she may 
 have left to her, I trust she need not Icnow that 
 I saw it. As to the rest, I hardly know what I 
 think. I had trusted that, if Eleanor were not a 
 Christian, she at least was an honorable woman ; 
 but it seems I was mistaken. If you want any 
 message to her from me, mother, tell her never 
 to dare to write Eunice Taylor's name to me, and 
 never to let me hear of her speaking her name ia 
 any dishonorable or unwomanly way, or she will 
 have to answer for the consequences." 
 
 And, in a white heat of anger, he strode from 
 the room. Then, indeed, that mother cried. She 
 wanted high-toned propriety in her daughter, and 
 she wanted a brUliant marriage and lofty pros- 
 pects for her son. And now, from his manner, 
 she was almost certain he was getting entangled 
 with that Taylor girl ! 
 
 You will be able to tolerate Eleanor Harrison 
 better, when I tell you that this mother of hers 
 was actually as much disappointed in her son as 
 she was in her daughter ! With such a mother, 
 what could be expected of the daughter ? And 
 yet the son was one of earth's noblemen ! — ^ no, I 
 
From Different Standpoints. 249 
 
 mistake, earth had nothing to do with it. He 
 was one of the princes of the royal house. Pie 
 was on terms of the closest intimacy with the 
 King. 
 
 During these days, what about Eunice Taylor 
 and her thwarted life ? She made two entries in 
 her long-suffering journal, bearing date but two 
 days apart, and you shall read them both: 
 
 October 11, 18 — . — I have held my pen for 
 full five minutes, I should think, in doubt whether 
 to yield to my incHnation and write here, or let 
 the poor white page go, unmarred. Yet why 
 should I not get rid of so much bitterness as wiU 
 stick to its pages ? 
 
 I am a very wicked girl. I see it more plainly 
 than any one else possibly can, unless it is God 
 himself ; and sometimes it seems to me as though 
 even he could not know the depths of wickedness 
 in my heart, or he would leave no place for me 
 on this earth. 
 
 All this I can say to myself, but I can not let 
 any one else know it. It has to do with matters 
 that can not be told. 
 
 ■Almost every evening, for the past two weeks, 
 I have been at prayer-meeting ; led there, in the 
 first place, by the persuasion of one who seems to 
 have such a longing for my soul that he can not 
 let me alone ; led there, afterward, by a strange 
 
250 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 sort of power, that I can neither describe nor un- 
 derstand — a power from which I seem unable to 
 get away, and of which I am afraid. 
 
 They have been wonderful meetings ; I never 
 knew anything like them before. I have had a 
 queer sort of longing that I might enjoy them for 
 Perry. What manna they would have been to 
 him! I can dimly imagine it. As for me, it 
 seems to me that they have led me close to the 
 very door of heaven, only to show me that it is 
 barred against such as I. Instead of it being the 
 easy thing I had always imagined it — to be a 
 Christian — J^ find that, to me, it is an impossi- 
 bility ; and that, not from any fault in the pro- 
 vision, but because of the hardness of my own 
 heart, I have been led to feel, in a measure, how 
 great a thing it must be to have that wonderful 
 Christ for a friend. But he is not my friend ; he 
 looks at me with mournful eyes, and can not ac- 
 cept me. There is a barred gateway between 
 him and me, and not even he can remove the 
 bolt, 
 
 His, " I say unto you, love your enemies," 
 clear and emphatic as it is, just shuts me out of 
 heaven. I can not, can not do it ! I can not 
 even want to forgive, and love. The idea of lov- 
 ing Eleanor Harrison is actually horrid to me ! 
 Almost I feel I would rather be lost, body and 
 soul, forever, than to do it, even if I could ; and 
 
From Different Standpoints. 251 
 
 I know that I can't. In every possible way has 
 she injured me, and that -without the slightest 
 provocation ; even when I was trying to struggle 
 against my worse self, trying to endure her, and 
 to help Perry, by keeping him blind. The very 
 effort to do it has made me despise her more ; be- 
 side, it was for nothing ; I did not succeed. I 
 believe in my heart that she makes his life miser- 
 able, though he does not know her, as I do, else 
 he would despise her too. Sometimes my heart 
 is so awfully wicked that I long to make plain to 
 him just what she is, and see him turn from her 
 in scorn and loathing. I could do it^ sometimes 
 I am afraid that I shall. Almost the desire con- 
 sumes me. It came to me, last evening, in meet- 
 ing — came, right in the midst of a wonderful ser- 
 mon, from that wonderful text : " Father, forgive 
 them, for they know not what they do." Oh, it 
 was sublime forgiveness ! But that is just it. It 
 was God-like, because he is God, and I am only a 
 poor worm of dust. Beside — that awful beside 
 — she knows what she is doing. She is setting 
 about it deliberately, with ends to accomplish. 
 I can never, never forgive her; and, while I 
 write it, I realize fully that, by that statement, 
 I am bolting the door of heaven against me. She 
 can not enter there, and this is sin, awful sin, and 
 I can not help it. 
 
252 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 The entry closed abruptly, and Una ran down 
 stairs, suddenly possessed 'uith the belief that she 
 must get aAvay from herself and her tormenting 
 thoughts for a little, or they would drive her wild. 
 A strange life she was living. Trembling on the 
 edge of a great, and, as she truly plirased it, an 
 awful decision. Deliberately turning away from 
 the loving, forgiving Saviour, and refusing to 
 forgive a frail sinner lite herself. The hardness 
 of her heart amazed herself. There were anxious 
 hearts in the house for her. Llr. Romaiae had 
 said all he dared to her ; but he constantly pre- 
 sented her Jjefore his Elder Brother, pleading for 
 her soul. Tom Haddington had a consuming 
 anxiety for her that almost unnerved him. He 
 could not help but see that she was passing 
 through what might be the solemn turning point 
 of her life. For all he could know, the Lord, 
 who was knocking so loudly and so patiently at 
 the door of her heart, might pass by, and never 
 knock again. He knew there was some strange 
 obstacle in the way, he could not conceive what. 
 He could not help in any way, and he was over- 
 whelmed with the sense of pain and responsibility. 
 He wrote to Perry, but he had received only a 
 constrained and bewildering answer. Since that 
 view of his sister's letter, he began dimly to rea- 
 lize what some of the weight at her heart might 
 be ; began dimly to understand that it was some- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 253 
 
 thing witli wMch a third person could not meddle, 
 and which nobody could help but God ; and to 
 God she would not go. 
 
 When she suddenly left her room to get away 
 from herself, she went to the parlor, and there 
 she found Tom Haddington. 
 
 " I didn't know you had returned ! " she said, 
 giving him her hand, her face lighting with plea- 
 sure. In her present sore state of heart, his per- 
 sistent friendship was a salve. 
 
 " I am but just returned," he said. 
 
 And then the next sentence was utterly unpre- 
 meditated ; it had been the last thing that he had 
 meant to say : 
 
 " Una, are my sister and Perry Harrison an Ul- 
 mated pair?" 
 
 Eunice drew herself up proudly. Even his 
 hrotJier she felt had no business to question. 
 
 " You should ask him," she said, haughtily. 
 " If you really think that is a proper question to 
 ask, he certainly would be likely to have more 
 definite information on that point, than ought to 
 be expected from me." 
 
 " Don't," he said, simply ; " please don't, Una ; 
 I am in sore trouble ; I thought it possible you 
 might help me." 
 
 Instantly the flush of indignation passed from 
 Una's face, leaving it deadly pale, and the hand 
 that she laid on his arm trembled visibly. Yet 
 she managed to keep her voice somewhat steady. 
 
254 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 " Is it Perry, Mr. Haddington ? Is he in trou- 
 ble?" 
 
 " In awful trouble, I'm afraid ; trouble that I 
 can not help him with — that there is no help for 
 this side of heaven." 
 
 And then Tom Haddington did what was so 
 strange a sight in him, that it controlled Una's 
 terrible excitement. He dropped on the low sofa 
 near where he stood, and wiped great hot tears 
 from his manly eyes. There was no getting 
 away from some revelations after that. He did 
 not teU her about that horrible letter, he did 
 not mention her name in the most remote way ; 
 yet, somehow, he made her plainly understand 
 that he was deceived — and disappointed in his 
 sister, and that the husband of her choice knew 
 how false was the heart he had taken to liis home 
 forever. 
 
 Eager question and answer followed each 
 other, until both suddenly felt themselves to be 
 revealing secrets that did not belong to them. 
 Una paused in the middle of a sentence, and the 
 startled glance of her eyes revealed to Tom that 
 he had been hearing words, concerning his own 
 sister, that must overwhelm him with shame and 
 pain. 
 
 " Poor Romaine ! " he said. " If he knew of 
 this, he would surely be amply revenged." 
 
 "What do you mean?" Una asked, startled 
 
From Different Standpoints. 255 
 
 out of propriety again. " What can Mr. Romaine 
 have to do with this ? " 
 
 " Nothing, thank God. He, at least, has es- 
 caped." 
 
 And then again he felt that the sentence, left 
 unexplained, compromised Mr. Romaine in a man- 
 ner that was hardly right. So it was, in a few 
 sharp, pain-fraught sentences, revealed to the 
 amazed Una that Mr. Romaine was once a man of 
 great wealth and high position, and was the be- 
 trothed husband of Eleanor Harrison. But he 
 lost his fortune and his promised bride at almost 
 the same time. 
 
 " Does Perry know of this ? " Una asked, ea- 
 gerly, 
 
 Tom Haddington winced. 
 
 " No, he doesn't ; but so surely as I am a man 
 of honor, he would have known it had I not 
 firmly believed that Eleanor had utterly changed, 
 repented, in lowliness of heart, and that her en- 
 tii'e heart was given to Perry Harrison, and that 
 the other was a mistake." 
 
 They were interrupted by the coming in of 
 other boarders, and it was well that they were. 
 Each felt that more had been said than it would 
 have seemed possible to have said to each other 
 about these things. Una went back to her room. 
 She was not afraid to be alone now. Strangely 
 enough her excitement was calmed. She was 
 
256 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 utterly stilled. It seemed to her that there had 
 been an earthquake, awful indeed, swallowing up 
 much that was bright and beautiful. But, for all 
 that, the air was clearer. Two things thrilled 
 her — ^in a sense, hushed her. Mr. Romaine, the 
 man whom she had set down as one for whom 
 life had always worn an unruffled calm, had been 
 through dark and bitter waters, and had come 
 out with the peace of God written on his fore- 
 head. Evidently he had forgiven Eleanor Harri- 
 son, utterly. 
 
 But there was a greater thought than that. 
 Perry Harrison, bound by hopeless ties that only 
 death could break, obliged to live beside, talk 
 with, minister to, a woman utterly false, not only 
 to him, but to her sex, and to all ideas of right 
 and honor, was yet sustained, controlled, patient ; 
 she knew how patient. His letters to his mother 
 breathed of rest and trust, and spoke always care- 
 fully, even tenderly, of Eleanor ! How paltry 
 her causes for anger looked, beside this accumu- 
 lation ! Strange leading she was having ! 
 
 "When Eleanor Harrison wrote that bitter let- 
 ter, she had no conception whereunto it would 
 lead. The Lord knew. The " wrath " of one of 
 his professed servants was being made to praise 
 him. Since her life would not honor him, her 
 sin should. 
 
 It was only two days afterward that Una wrote 
 this in her journal : 
 
From Different Standpoints. 257 
 
 "Midniglit! I have been reflecting whether 
 or not to tear out that last page. I have con- 
 cluded to leave it as my private monument to 
 the dear Christ's enduring love. How almost 
 blasphemous it seems I I dared to compare my 
 wrongs with his ; and, though I did not mean 
 that, it seemed as though I thought my own were 
 heavier ! And yet he waited and called and 
 coaxed, and, at last, after weary tossings and al- 
 most shipwreck, Eunice Taylor consented to 
 enter into peace. And oh, what peace it is ! 
 " Bless the Lord, O my soul." Surely I can for- 
 give and pity and love aU the world. I can pray 
 for Eleanor Harrison, miserable, misguided, un- 
 saved woman that she is. I am sure the loving 
 Lord pities her. I am sure he would have even 
 her come into rest. 
 
 " A blessed thought has come to me. Perhaps 
 He will use me as his instrument to bring her in 
 very deed to himself. Oh, I will try for it. I 
 don't know what I can do, but perhaps I can do 
 something. They are coming here next week, 
 Perry and she — coming for Mrs. Harrison ; then 
 we wUl go home. Oh, mother and father, what 
 a heaven of a home I will try to make for you ! 
 Oh, my class of boys ! I will teach as I never 
 taught before ! I presume I shall have to come 
 down from this high state to common living. But 
 to-night I am lifted up. The earth, and all it 
 
258 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 has, or might have, or, rather, might have had for 
 me, has receded, and heaven draws near. I say 
 to my soul : ' Soul, it is only for a little while ; 
 alone here, and with burdens to bear, not by any 
 means so heavy as those of some others, but yet 
 heavy. Only a little while, and then the sun- 
 shine of the Father's home.' 
 
 " ' Bless the Lord, O my soul ; and aU that is 
 within me, bless liis holy name.' " 
 
21. 
 
 ELEANOE TO HEE MOTHEE. 
 
 Dear Mother : 
 
 We have just retirrned from a 'tliree days' visit 
 to some of Perry's relatives up in Vermont. We 
 found a batch of letters awaiting our return, 
 among them yours. Perry wanted to stay a 
 week, but I could not endure the sort of life. I 
 found myself in a nest of saints ; Perry and Tom 
 are bad enough, but those up there are of the . 
 Puritan stamp. Mercy ! I did not draw a free 
 breath wliile I was there ! The only relief was a 
 certain Aunt Jane, of whom Perry is not over 
 fond ; so I imagine it was a positive rehef to get 
 over there where I could say wicked things with- 
 out feeling the reproving looks of the Puritan 
 maiden — PrisciLla ought to be her name, but 
 they forgot themselves and called her Daisy. 
 My ' How this husband of mine reveled in re- 
 hgious talks and prayer-meeting talks while we 
 were there. I did not suppose that so much 
 could be got inside of three days. I thought 
 
 259 
 
260 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 that I should suffocate, but, being on good behav- 
 ior, I succeeded in not shocking the Puritans 
 more than a dozen times. It was a positive relief 
 to get back. But your letter, and the one which 
 Perry had from Ms mother, have stirred up aU 
 my wickedness. Yours was such a mixture of 
 scoldings and pityings ! And you know that I 
 never would endure scolding, and pity rouses me 
 to a pitch of fury. So please, mamma, don't 
 scold and don't pity. But Mrs. Harrison's letter 
 — or, rather, Eunice Taylor's letter — ^is the one 
 that vexes me most. Perry gave it to me to 
 read, and took liimself off to sing a psalm of 
 thanksgiving, I suppose. Such a fuss as every- 
 body is bound to make over that girl ! The let- 
 ter was only remarkable for the absence of any 
 mention of Tom's name, except a reference to 
 something he had done for Perry's mother, and 
 one other thing — the designing young lady an- 
 nounces, in a very meek way, of course, that she 
 has, as she expresses it, "found the way of peace." 
 Now, of course I have no objections to the girl's 
 turning out a saint, but it is extremely inoppor- 
 tune. Don't you see, my dear mother, that so 
 long as she made no pretense of saintliness, we 
 were comparatively safe as regards Tom ; but 
 now the misguided boy will think she is an angel. 
 There is just one bit of comfort to be got out of 
 aU the pile of letters, and that is one from Dr. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 261 
 
 Mason, wherein he says that Perry may come 
 after his mother next week. Propriety, having 
 decreed that coming from New York a bride, I 
 should not return in the space of a year, more or 
 less, unaccompanied by my husband, will not go 
 further, will it, and say that once there under his' 
 escort and protection, I may not stay as long as I 
 please, if business calls him home ? My newly- 
 made saint wUl find she can not defy me, and 
 once with Tom I think I can manage him. I 
 shall take care that Perry does not see this let- 
 ter, though I think it is a very good letter. 
 
 Eleanok. 
 
 Now, by way of contrast, read this from Perry's 
 standpoint. 
 
 Nassau, Oct. 20, 186-. 
 My Bear Mother : 
 
 We have just returned from our visit at Uncle 
 Nathan's. I would gladly have staid a week, 
 but Eleanor was so lonely and homesick that I 
 came away to please her. That house is like a 
 little haven of rest. A weary soul finds there 
 such loving care and tender leading I could 
 scarcely tear myseKaway ; yet, as I left no direc- 
 tions for letters to be forwarded, knowing Una 
 would telegraph if you needed me, it was as 
 well to come home. I found Una's last letter 
 
262 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 and one from Dr. Mason. I opened his first, and 
 read the joyful news that I may have my dear 
 mother at home again. Oh, mother, it has been 
 so sad and lonely here ever since you went away. 
 My heart went out to God in thanksgiving at the 
 good news. We have already commenced our 
 preparations, and will, I hope, be with you the 
 first of the week. Will you please tell Aunt 
 Ruth not to trouble herself about rooms, as Elea- 
 nor has expressed a preference for an up-town 
 boarding-house, and there is no special reason 
 why she should not be gratified, except what 
 may be a selfish one, my own desire to be con- 
 stantly near my mother, and my great partiality 
 for Miss Brockton's home-like arrangements and 
 cream biscuit. 
 
 Mr. Harrison was careful not to state what 
 had been the reasons given by his wife for not 
 wishing to go to Miss Brockton's. But perhaps 
 Una understood better without the reasons being 
 given than Perry did with them, for, be it remem- 
 bered, Una was, thanks to Tom Haddington's 
 revelations, wiser in some respects, as concerned 
 Perry's wife, than was Perry himself. 
 
 " There's one thing, wliich may as well be set- 
 tled in the outset," said Eleanor, as they were 
 arranging for the trip to New York, " I am not 
 going to stop at Miss Brockton's, and you may 
 
From Different Standpoints. 263 
 
 plan accordingly, or leave me out of tlie plan- 
 ning." 
 
 " Why, Eleanor, -won't it look strangely ? " 
 
 " "What look strangely ? " 
 
 " Why, for us to go elsewhere. Both of us 
 have been in the habit of stopping there, and 
 mother is there, and Tom and Una — " 
 
 Perry unintentionally coupled the two names, 
 and this roused Eleanor almost to fury. 
 
 " Exactly ! And do you think I want to stand 
 by and see my brother made the dupe of that de- 
 signing girl ? Indeed I will not ! I could never 
 breathe in the same house with her. But that is 
 not the worst of it : Miss Brockton has lowered 
 the reputation of her house to such a degree that 
 J don't care to go there." 
 
 " Eleanor, what do you mean ? " 
 
 " Nothing ; only I do not choose to be mixed 
 up with the class of people one finds there now- 
 adays." 
 
 " My mother, for instance ? " said Perry, some- 
 what stiffly. 
 
 " Oh, now you need not get up on stilts' I 
 will acknowledge that the presence of an invalid 
 in the house would half spoil the good time I 
 propose to have while in the city, and so long as 
 she has her nurse we can do her no good. But, 
 as I said, I won't be mixed up with such persons 
 as that Mr. Romaine. I don't see why he should 
 
264 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 push himself into a first-class establishment. Miss 
 Brockton ought to know that she will be the loser 
 by it." 
 
 " Well, I don't know," returned Perry, with a 
 twinkle in his eye. " It is almost two years since 
 Mr. Romaine became a member of Miss Brock- 
 ton's famUy, and her establishment continues full. 
 It takes people a long time to find out into what 
 disrepute the house has fallen ! " 
 
 " Well, Perry Harrison, it makes no sort _ of 
 difference how you laugh or what you say ; I will 
 not go to Miss Brockton's if Romaine is there. 
 You know how I dislike him ; and you knew it 
 when you invited liim here last spring. Of 
 course I had to be decently polite in our own 
 house. I wonder he had the audacity to come ! " 
 
 "Very well," said Perry, wearily, as if the 
 whole matter was troublesome. " Have it as you 
 like ; only remember this : I shall consider it my 
 first duty to attend upon my mother, because she 
 needs my care, and because her comfort is the 
 real reason of my going to New York, and all 
 else is a secondary consideration." 
 
 Mrs. Eleanor was forced to be satisfied with 
 this concession, and, with much inward chafing, 
 and some outward expressions of disgust, she set 
 about her preparations for the visit. 
 
 " I expect a gentleman here this morning to 
 talk over some plans for altering the arrangement 
 
From Different Standpoints. 265 
 
 of rooms, so as to accommodate mother and Iter 
 attendant," said Perry one morning at the break- 
 fast-table. His wife looked up in surprise. " Has 
 it not occurred to you," continued Perry, " that 
 as it is now there is no convenient place for two 
 people below stairs ? " 
 
 "I confess it had not occurred to me," returned 
 Mrs. Harrison. " May I ask what you propose 
 to do ? " 
 
 " I do not know that my plans are practicable," 
 replied her husband. " But I would like to do 
 this ; move the library into mother's ^ old room, 
 and cut a doorway between the old library and 
 the sitting-room, and fit up those two rooms for 
 my mother's use." 
 
 " I don't see any necessity for all that trouble," 
 said Eleanor. " Why not let the nurse occupy 
 the little store-room that opens out of your mo- 
 ther's room ? " 
 
 " For several reasons. In the first place, my 
 mother is attached to the sitting-room, and it is 
 convenient to the dining-room ; whereas, it would 
 be too far to wheel her chair from her old room 
 three times a day. And, besides, the little room 
 you speak of is too small, and, being sunless, un- 
 fit for a guest." 
 
 " Do you expect that such a cumbersome thing 
 as a wheel-chair is proper for a dining-room, asked 
 Eleanor, in her sweetest tones. 
 
266 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 " Certainljr, wlieii there is a lady in it," replied 
 Perry, in tones wliicli matclied. hers in smooth- 
 ness and evenness. " I presume that it will often 
 happen that mother -will take her meals in her 
 room, but I wish to arrange it so that she can do 
 as she pleases in regard to the matter, and I see 
 no other way of fixing it." 
 
 " Do you expect that Molly will be willing to 
 undertake the task of waiting upon your mother ? " 
 asked Eleanor. 
 
 " I presume she will do it gladly, if we can not 
 do better," returned Perry. And then he added, 
 without any apparent hesitanc}- , though he fairly 
 dreaded the effect of his words : " Of course I do 
 not know whether or not Eunice will accept the 
 proposition ; but I have the consent of her par- 
 ents that she shall continue to act the part of a 
 daughter to my mother. It will be a life of close 
 confinement for a young ghi, but of course you 
 will relieve her now and then." 
 
 " Don't build any hopes upon me — I was not 
 made for a nurse," returned Eleanor. " It is my 
 advice that you bring from New York a regularly 
 trained nurse, instead of trusting to an inexperi- 
 enced and manceuvring J'oung girl." 
 
 " Eleanor, you are my wife, and therefore en- 
 titled to my loving consideration ; but you must 
 never again speak in that way of my friend, Iiliss 
 Taylor ! If my mother wishes, and Eunice will 
 
I'rom Different Standpoints. 267 
 
 consent, she will continue her attendance, and 
 the library will be properly fitted up for her 
 use." 
 
 Eleanor Harrison's wits had plenty of work. 
 For the next few hours faithfully she studied up 
 her plans to thwart this scheme of her husband's, 
 and to frustrate what she was pleased to term 
 " the designs of that girl " as regarded her 
 brother Tom. Her plan for the first developed 
 itself in part at tea-time. She was apparently in 
 the best of humor, and under the spell of her fas- 
 cinations Perry almost forgot that there had ever 
 been any trouble — that there had been a mistake. 
 
 "Perry," she said, sweetly, "it seems to me 
 that we can get along without Miss Taylor, 
 if we have Molly. I know your mother is 
 attached to Una, but don't you think that I could 
 win her love, and learn to care for her as ten- 
 derly?" 
 
 " Perhaps you might," replied , her husband, 
 too much surprised to think clearly, therefore the 
 more easily duped. " Still, as you are so unused 
 to the confinement of a sick-room, and know so 
 little about nursing, I fear it would be too great 
 an undertaking." 
 
 " Oh, you forget Uncle Arthur, and the years 
 that I waited on him, and humored all his whims ! 
 Dear me ! What haven't I endured from him ? " 
 
 " We might get along," said Perry, thought- 
 
268 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 fully. « Still, I am inclined to tMnk that Una 
 knows my mother's ways so well, and is so nsed 
 to her in her present state, that it wUl be best to 
 carry out my plan if we can, at least for a time, 
 until you and I take some lessons," he said, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 " Well, perhaps so," returned Eleanor. " But I 
 am in earnest ; and you won't mind, will you, if 
 I ask your mother to let me be her nurse ? I 
 really think I ought." 
 
 To go back to Perry's letter, from which we 
 have digressed. It went on, after discussing var- 
 ious family matters : 
 
 And now, dear Sister Eunice, what should 
 have been first in my letter, comes last. But 
 there is a song of thanksgiving in my soul, what- 
 ever my pen may write, whatever my tongue 
 may say, and wherever my steps may tend. The 
 sictcr and confidant of my boyhood, the friend 
 and helper of these later years, has taken up the 
 new song, even the song of salvation ! And 
 there is a little house down the street where 
 there is rejoicing. As your father led in the 
 prayer-meeting last evening his voice had in it 
 such a triumphant ring that everybody must 
 have been lifted up above fears and distractions. 
 My joy had so overmastered me, choking my 
 voice, that his strong, clear utterance astonished 
 
From Different Standpoints. 269 
 
 me ; and sitting there listening to Mm, I learned 
 something of the Adsible effects of the exaltation 
 of a pure soiil whose faith in all these years has 
 "never failed nor faltered. But, as I shall see you 
 both soon, I will not write more. We expect 
 now to remain about a week. Eleanor did think 
 of staying longer, but a new idea, which she 
 wants to work out, has brought about a change 
 in her plans, and I presume we shall all return 
 together at the end of a week. 
 
 Pebey. 
 
 Little did the unsuspecting Perry know of the 
 ideas which Eleanor was trying to work out ! 
 
 [FEOM PEKEY's JOTJENAl.j 
 
 October 20. — I have been trying to write to 
 mother and Una, but I have found it impossible 
 'to put into the letter anything of my real feel- 
 ings. I am afraid the letter will seem strangely 
 cold ; but how could I say more, when my soul 
 is so stirred ? It has taken all my strength to 
 quell the tumult which has been raging within 
 me during the last three days. It is well that 
 we did not go immediately to the city. I shall 
 have time to get used to the new state of affairs 
 — to put down the rebellion of my heart. I 
 thought I had conquered myself, but sometimes 
 there comes a fearful realization of my wretched 
 
270 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 mistake, and all the hard battle has to be fought 
 oyer ! No, not so ; thank God there are some 
 things foreyer settled ! All the wretched doubts 
 of God's goodness and overruling providence, all 
 darkness as to the path of duty, are swept away 
 — swallowed up in the sea of infinite love and 
 light. But the pain and weariness, that some- 
 times is a sharp agony, these are not yet con- 
 quered. It seems a strange providence that has 
 so interwoven our lives — olives which, it would 
 seem to us, ought to run far apart. But my 
 mother can not do without her son, neither can 
 she be quite comfortable without her who should 
 have been her daughter ; and I see no way but 
 this which I have proposed, unless Eleanor's 
 newly-developed love and tenderness for my 
 mother shall ripen into the fruit of careful nurs- 
 ing- 
 
 But what a Christian Una will make, bringing 
 the activity of her old life into Chiistian life ! 
 When her earnestness becomes Christian earnest- 
 ness, her zeal Christian zeal, her tenderness and 
 love Christian tenderness and love, all the noble 
 developments of her character consecrated, will 
 make her a rarely-beautiful example of perfect 
 Christian womanhood ! 
 
 WhUe it only needed this to make the wretch- 
 edness of my fatal mistake stand out in all its 
 horrible proportions, and mock me with a vision 
 
From Different Standpoints. 271 
 
 of joys that might have been, yet, in my soul 
 there is rejoicing. I write truly when I say that, 
 above and beyond all, I rejoice that another soul 
 is redeemed from the bondage of sin. I see 
 stretching out a long line of work, right here in 
 Nassau. Those boys ! Noiv she can work for 
 them ! She will be a power here — in the even- 
 ing school, in the Church and Sunday-school, and 
 everywhere. Nassau could not do without Una 
 Taylor now ! 
 
 Thank God that my poor blundering life has 
 not turned her heart against Christ, as I some- 
 times feared. Indeed, so greatly has this thought 
 oppressed me that I could not speak to her, nor 
 do anything to put others in the way of helping 
 her. But God be praised ! he has not needed 
 me in the work ! And now may he do for her 
 abundantly out of the riches of his grace ! And 
 oh, my God, help thou thy servant ! 
 
 Then, a day later, this record : 
 
 " There is ' a peace that passeth all under- 
 standing I ' " 
 
22. 
 
 The different elements composing the lives 
 that at present are woven into each other, met 
 next in New York. Not, indeed, in the same 
 house, by reason of Mrs. Perry Harrison's deter- 
 mination not to be trammeled by the " first-class 
 fanatics who congregated there." A mixture of 
 motives led her husband to yield to her in this 
 matter. First, because she desired it, and there 
 seemed no special reason to the contrary beyond 
 the look of the thing ; and, secondly, because his 
 sensitive spirit began to have a shivering dread 
 of putting his wife in contrast with the earnest 
 lives among which he should be thrown, and rea- 
 lizing the impossibility of assimilating them. He 
 had a strong, abiding determination to do his 
 duty, well and faithfully ; but he saw no reason 
 why he should make that duty harder than was 
 necessary. Therefore, when the first embarrass- 
 ment of explanation was gotten over, he had 
 strong satisfaction in feeling that the contrasting 
 elements of his life were two miles away from 
 each other ; and often, when he was under the 
 272 
 
From Different Standpoints. " 273 
 
 shadow of the one, he could be away from the 
 pitying eyes of the other. 
 
 Their stay in New York was to be short, al- 
 though it was the season of the year when most 
 people were coming instead of going from the 
 great city. Yet the invalid was so much better 
 that she began to have an eager longing for a 
 sight of the dear old home which had been her 
 abiding-place for forty years, and it was judged 
 best to gratify her. Already, however, had Mrs. 
 Perry's newly-formed plans for deposing Una 
 come to grief. Having boldly broached the mat- 
 ter herself to her mother-in-law, and by reason of 
 that lady's inability to make herself understood 
 having had the argument all her own way, she 
 went to her husband with a glowing description 
 of her success. But there were those who, by 
 patient care, could understand the signs and the 
 strangely-spoken sounds of the poor, twisted lips ; 
 and a little of the old spirit of the strong, seK-re- 
 liant woman shone out that evening as she made 
 her son comprehend that Eunice had promised 
 to stay right beside her as long as she lived. 
 Glad was Perry to hear this, but his wife was in- 
 dignant, and attributed it to the poisonous influ- 
 ence of a designing girl. Meantime that girl was 
 struggling with her newly-acquired sense of right 
 and duty, and the undisciplined heart that re- 
 belled fiercely against the covert sneers and open 
 
274 '^From Different Standpoints. 
 
 insults of her beautiful enemy whenever they 
 came in contact. This was often ; oftener, in- 
 deed, than Perry had planned : for, by reason of • 
 her determination to watch over and save her 
 brother, his wife was willing and eager to accom-' 
 pany him. 
 
 They were together one evening in the back 
 parlor, which was indeed a sort of family sitting- 
 room, where none but the special favorites among 
 Miss Brockton's boarders were invited to enter. 
 There were present Perry and his wife, Mr. Ro- 
 maine, Tom Haddington and Eunice Taylor. 
 Miss Brockton had volunteered her services to 
 care for the invalid, and give Una a breath of 
 rest. Which arrangement was specially gratify- 
 ing to Una, from the fact that Mrs. Harrison 
 continued to exert a sort of spell over the some- 
 what fierce nature of Aunt Ruth, from which 
 much was hoped. Already had the genius of the 
 Christian religion begun to influence Una's acts. 
 Having found a wonderful and ever-present 
 Friend, she began to desire that others might be 
 drawn to him ; among them Aunt Ruth, for 
 who needed him more than that lonely old wo- 
 man? 
 
 " This rain interferes with many apparently 
 very nice plans," Tom Haddington was saying. 
 " Our time is growing so short it hardly seems as 
 though we could spare an evening." 
 
From Different Standpoints. 275 
 
 " Why, Tom," said his sister, " do you mean to 
 have the end of the world come right away, that 
 you talk about there being so little time ? " 
 
 " I was referring to our friends," Tom said, 
 coldly. He always spoke coldly to his sister 
 nowadays. Then he turned to Una : 
 
 "I wanted to take you to the Ninth Street 
 prayer-meeting this evening. It is a young peo- 
 ple's meeting, and it is conducted on a somewhat 
 novel plan. I fancy it might have answered some 
 of the questions that are troubling you in refer- 
 ence to ' those boys ' of yours." 
 
 " Oh, then, I wish I might have gone," said 
 Una, eagerly. " Those boys do trouble me. I 
 mean I can't plan how to interest them in 
 things that I specially desire to help them with 
 now." 
 
 The tone of famihar friendliness with which 
 she addressed the elegant Mr. Haddington, with- 
 out a touch of reserve in it, and apparently with- 
 out the slightest sense of having been specially 
 honored by his notice, stung his proud sister in a 
 way that none of those present could understand, 
 by reason of their having been educated on a 
 different plane from herself. She spoke in her 
 most supercilious tone : 
 
 "Really, IMiss Taylor, I shouldn't think the 
 boys in that evening school need trouble you. 
 As a regularly employed attendant on a sick wo- 
 
276 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 man I siiould think you could have little time to 
 devote to their interests. Your duties wiH be 
 likely to keep you very closely employed. I was 
 thinking yesterday that mother would need some 
 plain sewing this fall, and it will be just the 
 thing to occupy you in the long evenings. I 
 shall set about arranging as soon as we reach 
 home. If I have really to settle down in the 
 country, and be the mistress of the establishment, 
 I may as well plan for the interests of all con- 
 cerned. So I am quite convinced. Miss Taylor, 
 that since you are to be under my jurisdiction I 
 can keep you busy without reference to those 
 boys." 
 
 It was a long sentence, told off rapidly and 
 with distinct design toward one object, the open- 
 ing of Tom Haddington's blinded eyes to the fact 
 that he was actually giving a good deal of 
 thought to a girl who occupied the position of 
 servant in her family and was subject to lier or- 
 ders.' That it showed very little knowledge of 
 her brother's nature is not to be wondered at. 
 People who all the time think from such totally 
 different standpoints as that brother and sister 
 occupied, can hardly be expected to understand 
 each other. As for Una, she thought of it after- 
 ward, how strange it was, that the strongest feel- 
 ing in her heart at the moment was pity for Perry 
 Harrison. And truly he was to be pitied ! What 
 
From Different Standpoints. 277 
 
 was he to do ? How sMeld his wife, and at the 
 same time not insult his friend ? Mr. Eomaine 
 turned flashing eyes of inquiry on him, and Tom 
 Haddington's face was working strangely. Perry 
 gave them little time, however, for thought. His 
 Toice was low and clear : 
 
 " Una, I beg you will forgive my wife. She is 
 a new-comer among us, comparatively, and can 
 not understand the relations that have always 
 existed. She does not know that you are the 
 dear and honored friend, not only of my mother, 
 but myself, and that we aU understand the posi- 
 tion you occupy to be one which you take out of 
 pity for one who has always loved you like a 
 mother, and who clings to you in a way that can 
 not be put off. That I thank you for it, in a 
 way that words will not express, I think you 
 know." 
 
 Then Eunice found her voice again. 
 
 " What nonsense ! " she said, gaily. " Mrs. 
 Harrison knows I'm doing my best to take care 
 of her mother, and that I do it for pay — hard, 
 unromantic dollars — and heartily enjoy the crea- 
 ture comforts that can be bought with them. Of 
 course I acknowledge my obligations to her as 
 mistress of the house, and am as ready as possible 
 to do anything that I can to help in any way." 
 
 But Perry was not through. He did not smile, 
 did not even glance gratefully toward Una. 
 
278 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 Truth to tell, just tlien he could not have trusted 
 himself to do so. He had more to say. His 
 voice was still low, but with a sort of ring in it 
 that meant unalterable decision : 
 
 "Eleanor, you are to understand from this 
 time forth that the position which Miss Taylor 
 occupies in our house is that of a guest of my 
 mother. She is under no control save that of 
 her own unselfish heart. She is at all times to be 
 deferred to, and planned for, and treated as my 
 mother's guest. Moreover, it is my mother's 
 house, not mine, and I believe that my mother's 
 desire is that you shall not be troubled with the 
 management of affairs, but that Miss Taylor 
 shall select such helpers as she needs, and ar- 
 range the affairs of the house to suit herself. Of 
 course we are at liberty to board elsewhere, if we 
 so desire, and I am not sure but it would be the 
 best arrangement we could make : but that we 
 need not discuss now, only I see it is necessary 
 to make plain to you what I thought you under- 
 stood, that the home is mine only through the 
 courtesy of my mother." 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Mrs. Perry Harrison. " Then 
 Eunice is housekeeper, is she ? That is a notch 
 higher in the estimation of some people, though I 
 never could understand what difference it made," 
 which was her way of admitting to herself that 
 she was foiled. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 279 
 
 Una wrote tMs in her diary the next evening, 
 not that same one : 
 
 I can pray for her ; I can do it with all my 
 heart. Last night I was burning with anger ; 
 not so much for her treatment of me, because 
 she overreached herself — she went so far that it 
 was absurd — ^but because she so disgraced her 
 husband, and that, too, before her brother. How 
 could she do it ! I felt then as if she were so far 
 beneath me as a woman that I could not even 
 prajf for her. But to-day it is different. I have 
 been reading two wonderful verses — ^just two — 
 out of the Bible. It is all my heart had room 
 for this day. First is that far-reaching-one : 
 " Forbearing one another, and forgiving one 
 another ; even as Christ forgave you, so also do 
 ye." That, in itself, settles all feelings of wrath 
 and indignation, even all feeling of heart-burn- 
 ing. But I did not realize how strangely won- 
 derful that forgiveness of the Lord was, till I 
 turned to the reference in Isaiah, and behold it 
 read : " I gave my back to the smiters, and my 
 cheeks to them that plucked off the hair. I hid 
 not my face from shame and spitting." Over 
 that verse I cried great, hot, burning tears ; and 
 all the hardness of my wicked heart seemed to 
 weep itself out in those tears. After that I could 
 and did pray for Eleanor Harrison with all my 
 
280 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 soul. And I have a feeling that the cry went up, 
 even unto heaven. How plainly I see now why 
 I was led as I was ; why I had to leave my poor 
 little half-work, down there in Nassau, that I 
 mourned over so much, and come here. I came 
 to find my Christ, my pardon, my peace. I came 
 to find how to work and how to live ; for I wUl 
 confess to you, Journal, that living was getting 
 to be very wretched business to me. Now I feel 
 as though it could be borne, and as though I 
 could do good, strong, cheerful work in the name 
 of my Lord. A real, intense life of joy from the 
 human side is evidently not to be mine. Instead, 
 I have peace, and the Lord can use me where he 
 may. Perhaps, after all, peace is higher than 
 joy. Day after to-morrow we are going home. 
 
 It was the morning before the Harrison party 
 were to start for home, leaving Mrs. Perry be- 
 hind them, she having changed her plans and de- 
 termined to make a long visit in the city. This 
 was not in accordance with her husband's wishes, 
 for he distrusted her, and shrank from himself ; 
 and yet he could find, as yet, no way to contro- 
 vert it. He .neither could nor would stay him- 
 self, having resolved that duty to his mother de- 
 manded that he should see her as carefully and 
 comfortably arranged as possible. He stood 
 looking from the side window of Miss Brockton's 
 
From Different Standpoints. 281 
 
 back parlor, gloomily contemplating the rows of 
 brick and stone that shut out earth and sky. 
 Looking at them, but not thinking of them at 
 all, he was, as usual, thinking of his wife. Her 
 last determined plan had been to attend the private 
 hop given by an old acquaintance, and her last 
 defeat had been the utter refusal of her husband to 
 accompany her. He could not see that even 
 &a.tj to his wife led him to countenance all the 
 plans that he knew were in order for the even- 
 ing. His brother-in-law came into the room, and 
 presently joined him at the window. Both gen- 
 tlemen remained utterly silent for several min- 
 utes. At last Perry spoke : 
 
 " Tom, have you any influence over Eleanor? " 
 
 "Not enough to keep her from dishonoring 
 her family to-night," her brother answered, bit- 
 terly. 
 
 " Then you have heard of her plans ? Did she 
 tell you?" 
 
 " Mother did. Mother thinks that both you 
 and I are wickedly obstinate. She doesn't know 
 how to account for the change in me ; and yet 
 she is a Christian, Perry, and so is Eleanor. 
 What makes the difference in people ? " 
 
 To this Perry made no sort of answer, unless 
 the perplexed " thinldng-aloud " tone in which he 
 said, " I don't know what to do," could be called 
 an answer. 
 
282 'From Different Standpoints. 
 
 " It is ridiculous ! " said Tom, warming into 
 vexation. " I wonder that Eleanor's sense of 
 propriety doesn't deter her. In our circle, at 
 least, young wives have not been in the habit of 
 attending such places without their husbands. 
 Perry, has it never occurred to you that Una 
 Taylor has a singularly quick brain ? Possibly 
 she might have a plan." 
 
 Perry winced visibly. 
 
 " I can't appeal to Miss Taylor for help ! " he 
 said ; and then he went abruptly from the win- 
 dow and the room. 
 
 Yet help was coming. Not tlurough Miss Tay- 
 lor ; not, at least, in any way she had planned or 
 prayed for. But it was decreed that Mrs. Elea- 
 nor Harrison should not make public the differ- 
 ence of views between her husband and herself 
 by appearing at the private hop that evening. 
 She was in her room at the Winston Place board- 
 ing-house, indulging in a survey of some of the 
 most bewildering of her toilets, deciding for the 
 evening, when there came an imperative ring at 
 the door, that instantly seemed to her to have 
 somewhat to do with her. She opened the door 
 and found herself asked for, and in a few mo- 
 ments more was reading the following note : 
 
 " Let the bearer of this bring you to mother's 
 room as rapidly as possible. Peeet." 
 
From Different Standpoints. 283 
 
 In a very startled and somewhat subdued way 
 she obeyed the summons, being quite rapid for 
 her, but not so rapid that one did not reach there 
 before her. She found the whole house in confu- 
 sion — servants running hither and thither, some 
 of them crying ; her husband locked in Tom's 
 room, refusing for the moment to see even her ; 
 Una pale and quiet, trying to collect her thoughts 
 and give much-needed orders ; and on the bed, 
 in " mother's room," a pale, cold form, with a 
 smile of angelic sweetness hovering over her lips, 
 that had already lost their drawn, earth-pained 
 look, and spoke of infinite release. 
 
 Even Mrs. Perry Harrison saw the impropriety 
 of attending a hop that evening ! Yet she was 
 not greatly changed. It takes more than death 
 to change the life-currents of a soul. The very 
 next evening, as the sad company were carrying 
 out their programme of going home with mother 
 (a programme not changed, save that the mother 
 for whose comfort they had so tenderly planned 
 traveled apart from them in the ice-car), Mrs. 
 Perry Harrison said, speaking in a low tone to 
 her brother, and yet not sufficiently low that 
 Una did not distinctly hear every word : 
 
 " Tom, what is the use in having that Taylor 
 girl iu the drawing-room car ? There is plenty 
 of room in the other cars, and her occupation is 
 gone now. I don't see any need of her being 
 crowded in as one of us." 
 
284 ^rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 If she had wanted to help her brother along in 
 his march toward one consuming desire, she 
 could not have jDlanned better. He gave her a 
 withering look from under his heavy eyelashes, 
 and then, instantly deserting her, turned to Una. 
 
 " Miss Una, take this chair ; it will be better 
 shielded from the smoke when the window is 
 raised. Perry, on the whole, I think I wUl go 
 up with you. I may be of service to you in some 
 way." Then he seated himself in the chair next 
 to Una's, and wheeled it around so that he could 
 have a full view of her face, and a fair chance for 
 conversation. . 
 
 " I am very glad," Perry said, simply. 
 
 As for Mrs. Perry, she was very angry, and 
 turned her back not only on them, but her hus- 
 band ; which he, poor motherless, worse than 
 wifeless, sore-hearted man, cared little for. In- 
 deed, it was, in a sense, a relief. He had had 
 deeper wounds from her than that. 
 
 There were times when he shuddered over the 
 feeling that if she would but turn her back on 
 him forever, so far away that a watching world, 
 and, what was infinitely worse, a watching con- 
 science, would excuse him from ever going after 
 her again, it would be almost heaven to him. 
 Is there any help for a soul when marriage vows 
 have become such galling chains as that ? 
 
23, 
 
 It was evening when tliey reached Nassaw — a 
 dark, rainy evening, toward the middle of No- 
 vember ; and can any one conceive of anything 
 more dreary than a November rain ? All the af- 
 ternoon the heavy rain-drops had splashed against 
 the car-window with a dull, aching sound, and 
 with the darkening of the day Perry's grief 
 seemed to grow heavier, until it became almost 
 unbearable. It was such a different home-com- 
 ing frora that which they had planned. The 
 contrast was almost crushing. Instead of the 
 precious mother, living, to care for, with the hope 
 of her further restoration, there was only the 
 worn-out body to lay away beside the husband of 
 her youth. Sometimes, during that long, dreary 
 ride, it seemed as if he could not bear it, and an 
 unuttered wail went up to heaven, a cry for re- 
 lease from the thraldrom of life — a thraldrom 
 which it seemed to him could only end in death. 
 He sat near his wife, attentive to all her wants, 
 but never speaking except when necessary. 
 
 Mr. Haddington and Una carried on a low, 
 
 285 
 
286 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 serious conversation, 'which angered Eleanor, be- 
 cause of the famiUarity which its tone evinced. 
 
 The Harrison carriage was waiting for them at 
 the depot. Una allowed herself to be placed 
 therein, though Eleanor plainly intimated that 
 some one ought to be there to walk home V7ith 
 her. 
 
 In her feverish anxiety to be at home, Una 
 peered out into the darkness for a first glimpse 
 of the house, and presently said, in a low tone : 
 
 " Mr. Haddington, I think we must have pass- 
 ed my home, though I can not discover any 
 light. Won't you speak to Thomas ? " 
 
 Low as the words were spoken, Eleanor's quick 
 ear caught them, and she roused herself to say : 
 
 " Why, to be siu-e ! We must have passed. I 
 presume your father and mother are sjtting by 
 the kitchen fire, and that is the reason we do not 
 see the light. It is quite chilly." And, drawing 
 her wraps closely about her, she added : " Perry, 
 Miss Taylor wants to stop at home, of course. 
 It can't be far back to the house. She may as 
 well get out here, and save Thomas the trouble 
 of driving back." 
 
 Perry leaned forward and spoke to Eunice. 
 
 " You promised to stay beside her to the end. 
 There will be some things to do in the morning, 
 and she would have wished it to be your hands 
 that should linger about her at the last. I 
 
From Different Standpoints. 287 
 
 tKouglit you would stay by us until aUis over, so 
 I ordered your trunks sent up with the rest." 
 
 So Una put aside the intense longing to see 
 her father and mother at once, and prepared to 
 bear for a little while longer the sneers and 
 slights of the haughty Eleanor. But as they 
 stopped, and the lights shone out, she saw, with 
 a glad bound "in her heart, her father coming 
 down the steps ready to lift her from the carriage. 
 Giving her a glad but quiet greeting, he whis- 
 pered : 
 
 " Your mother is in the dining-room." 
 
 Mrs. Taylor exj)lained that they had come over 
 in accordance with a telegram from Perry, to see 
 that everything was in order for their return. 
 
 Eleanor was indignant. 
 
 " Just think," she said, " the whole Taylor 
 family quartered upon us ! The way some peo- 
 ple presume to make themselves familiar is insuf- 
 ferable ! " 
 
 It was at this juncture that Tom found one of 
 his opportunities of being " of use " to Perry, in 
 hiding from the notice of others the disturbance 
 which Eleanor was inclined to make, and which, 
 but for his management, must have been seen and 
 heard by everybody in the house. 
 
 Perry, worn out by fatigue and sorrow, was 
 persuaded to leave everything to his friend, and 
 take some rest ; and his wife, sHenced by a few 
 
288 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 decided words which Tom felt called upon to 
 speak, concluded to foUow his example. 
 
 Poor Eleanor ! She felt that she was being 
 defeated. Her plans for putting down "that 
 girl " had failed in every instance. Not because 
 Una would not be put down, but because she 
 was so intrenched in the love and respect of her 
 friends, and her own determination to act up to 
 the promptings of her conscience, that she could 
 not be affected by Eleanor's cruelly-aimed blows. 
 And Mrs. Perry was forced to acknowledge to 
 herself that her sarcasms had not the slightest ef- 
 fect upon Tom. She had planned for Una's dis- 
 comfiture, and, behold, her scheme became a 
 bridge upon which Tom walked over hindrances 
 straight to Una's side. Plainly she must adopt 
 some new line of procedure. One thing was cer- 
 tain — her brother should never marry that Tay- 
 lor girl if by any means she could prevent it ! 
 Eunice should not triumph over her in that way ! 
 Ah, if she could have known how far from Eu- 
 nice Taylor's heart was any thought of triumph- 
 ing over her enemy. If she could have believed 
 that in these days, when her own heart was so 
 full of hatred, that the despised friend was pray- 
 ing for her, was sending up to heaven agonizing 
 prayers that into her heart and life might come 
 that peace wliich so filled the days and nights of 
 the petitioner; if she could have known tliis. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 289 
 
 what would have been the effect upon her own 
 undisciplined heart? 
 
 The next morning Una was standing alone be- 
 side the cold form which in life had been so dear 
 to her, when Eleanor came into the room. Speak- 
 ing in her sweetest tones, she said : 
 
 " I wanted to consult you about a little mat- 
 ter. I suppose that here in the country it is cus- 
 tomary for all the family to go to the cemetery. 
 Of course in the city it is different. I should 
 not think of it, but my brother thinks I ought. 
 But what I wanted to say is this : I presume 
 there will be quite a number of the relatives and 
 family friends who will return here to dinner, as 
 many of them have to ride some distance, and 
 will need some refreshment, would you be wil- 
 ling to see that dinner is prepared and served at 
 five o'clock?" 
 
 " Certainly I should be willing" replied Una, 
 " but I think that MoUy has received instructions 
 from Mr. Harrison in regard to that." 
 
 " Yes, I know. Of course Molly wiU do most 
 of the work ; but you understand that it will be 
 necessary to have some responsible and competent 
 person to take the oversight of things after we 
 are gone, and it occurred to me because of your 
 position in the family heretofore you would be 
 the proper person." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Una, with paling cheeks. 
 
290 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 " I am at your service ; command m.e in any way 
 you choose." 
 
 If Eunice Taylor had. spoken the thought that 
 was in her heart she would have said, " Who has 
 the best right to follow this cold clay to its last 
 resting-place, this woman wTio has no love for 
 her, who, because she is her son's wife, iisurps 
 the place, or I, who loved her only next to my 
 own blessed mother, and whom she loved, I ver- 
 ily believe, as she did no other woman on earth ? " 
 And bitter, burning tears fell, which were not all 
 for the loss of her friend. But this last scheme 
 of Eleanor's was doomed to faUure, and that 
 through Mr. Haddington's thoughtfulness. 
 
 " Perry," he said, in Eleanor's presence, " I 
 think that Miss Taylor should have a place 
 among us this afternoon. Your mother had no 
 more devoted friend." 
 
 " Why, of course," replied Perry, " It had 
 not occurred to me that it was necessary to speak 
 of the matter. She is one of us, assuredly." 
 
 " So I told her ; but she had an idea that she 
 would be needed to look after things down 
 stairs." 
 
 " What could have put that into her head ? I 
 told her tliis morning that Molly could attend to 
 everytliing. The love between those two was 
 like that between mother and daughter, and no 
 daughter could have been more faithful." 
 
From Different Standpoints. 291 
 
 To tile outside world it was but natural that 
 when they gathered for the last sad and solemn 
 rites of burial, Eunice Taylor should have a place 
 among the relatives and dearest friends. In- 
 deed, it would have been a cause of wonderment 
 and remark had it been otherwise ; for everybody 
 knew the intimate relations which she sustained 
 in the family, and none knew of the fires that 
 were raging under the calm, outside life that was 
 being lived by those who were apparently as one 
 family, mourning the loss of one dear to each. 
 
 Tom found himself so useful to Perry that he 
 had remained, and even aftSr the funeral he had 
 staid on, scarce knowing why, only that Perry 
 wished it. They were sitting together. Perry, 
 his wife and Tom, Una having gone home, feel- 
 ing that her work in that house was now over ; 
 that henceforth she would have little occasion to 
 go over to the Harrison mansion. " That chap- 
 ter of my life is over and ended," she said to her- 
 self. " Someway, it seems as if everything were 
 over. I don't know how I can take up the thread 
 of a new chapter, I am so tired." 
 
 " But Eleanor was saying : 
 
 " Perry, I suppose we ought to give Miss Tay- 
 lor something, in consideration of her services. 
 Of course she has received compensation for her 
 work ; still I. think they will expect something 
 more." As her husband did not reply immedi- 
 ately, she said, " Don't you agree with me ? " 
 
292 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 Then he roused himself to say : 
 
 " In some things I do, and in some I do not. 
 Miss Taylor's work was a work of love ; no 
 money would have induced her to endure all she 
 has suffered had she not loved my mother ; and 
 she would have done it without pay, if that had 
 been possible, so that I do not agree with you in 
 thinldng that she expects anything more. But' 
 if you mean that we owe her a debt of gratitude 
 which we can never pay, there I agree with you, 
 and certainly think that a token of our apprecia- 
 tion of the good she has done us would not be 
 out of place." 
 
 " Well, I suppose that is only another way of 
 putting it," returned Eleanor. " I am more prac- 
 tical, but it amounts to the same." 
 
 Tom Haddington thought it amounted to 
 something quite different. But he said nothing, 
 and Mrs. Eleanor went on : 
 
 " I will tell you what I was thinking of. You 
 see it does not take me long to get down to the 
 practical details of a plan. Would it not be well 
 for me to select some of your mother's dresses — 
 there are some very handsome ones — and perhaps 
 some laces ? I think Miss Taylor would prize 
 those things more highly than anything which 
 we might buy. There is that set of mink furs ; 
 those would do nicely for her. The reason I 
 spoke of it now is that I heard her talking of 
 
From Different Standpoints. 293 
 
 buying a set before we left the city, and perhaps 
 she will secure some if we do not attend to it im- 
 mediately." 
 
 Had it not been for the sadness of Perry's lot 
 and his own deep sympathy for him, Tom Had- 
 dington would have laughed outright. But as it 
 was, he only became absorbed more deeply in 
 studying a picture upon the wall opposite Mm, 
 all the while listening for Perry's replj'' to this 
 absurd speech. 
 
 "WeU, Eleanor, that may be a good idea. 
 But you and I must remember that nothing is 
 ours. JMother's lawyer mil be here in the morn- 
 ing, and then we shall know the contents of 
 mother's will." 
 
 Eleanor bit her lip, and covered her discomfit- 
 ure as best she could. 
 
 Just then it was not pleasant to recall certain 
 sentences in a letter which she had that day 
 written to her mother. These were the sen- 
 tences : 
 
 "Mother Harrison's jewels are magnificent! 
 And of course, as the daughter of the house, they 
 will fall to me. Am I not a fortunate woman ? 
 Especially, there is a dainty enameled watch 
 which I have always coveted, with a chain and 
 diamond pin. And she had quantities of old 
 laces, which ^7111 make you fairly wild when you 
 
294 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 see them, as you will, for I can assixre you tliat I 
 mean they shall see the light when I come into 
 possession." 
 
 There were other matters touched upon in this 
 letter, as in the nest quotation : 
 
 "It will be Tery lonely here now, as the 
 weather grows more dreary. I do not know how 
 I shall endure it, and I do not mean to. If we 
 can not go to New York, then I am going to 
 persuade Perry to go to some other city and 
 board for the winter ; and if I fail in that we will 
 haye some gay friends here to spend the winter. 
 Someway I am determined to have one more 
 taste of pleasure before I die. Just now we are 
 all mixed up. The Taylors have stepped in, and 
 are running the establishment. To be sure they 
 all went home last night after the funeral, but 
 Mother Taylor came over this morning to help 
 put things to rights, she said. I do hope we 
 shall settle down to something soon. Such a 
 disturbed life as we have led almost ever since 
 we were married. Well, I shall miss Mother 
 Harrison ; she was a cheerful woman, and very 
 interesting, and presided over the establishment 
 with great dignity, though she liked to manage 
 people and things rather more than was to my 
 taste ; but slie seldom interfered v/ith me — never, 
 
From Different Standpoints. 295 
 
 in fact, unless Perry was concerned. Then, she 
 never seemed to remember that her son was a 
 man grown, and capable of deciding questions for 
 himself. Poor fellow ! He is almost sick. He 
 is so unreasonable in giving way to his grief. I 
 have not indulged him in any conversation about 
 his loss, for you know I have no patience with 
 sentimental outbursts, and I tliink the best way 
 is to draw him away from his sorrow as much as 
 possible. To that end, as soon as we can make 
 arrangements for a prolonged absencer, I think we 
 wlLI get away from this place. Tom lingers still. 
 He seems to be on very friendly terms with Eu- 
 nice Taylor. I did not encourage his staying, 
 but Perry has taken up the idea that the fellow is 
 useful to him, though for the life of me I can not 
 see what he does. But I don't think Perry Har- 
 rison could live unless he was indulged in his 
 whims ; and one can never know what new one 
 he will take up: It would be a comfort as well 
 as convenience if one could be prepared, so as to 
 circumvent him now and then. I am almost in 
 despair about Tom. All I can say has not the 
 slightest effect upon him. He will persist in liis 
 fancy for the Taylor girl ; but I will make one 
 more effort to upset her plans. I tliink I have 
 an item of news for her which will be something 
 of a damper upon her. And now that Mother 
 Harrison is gone I do not know of any conceiv- 
 
296 I'rom Different Standj)oints. 
 
 able excuse she can have for coming here. But 
 there is Miss Brockton's. That woman will do 
 all she can to help the matter along, and the next 
 thing will be for Eunice to spend the winter 
 there. I wish Tom would go to Europe. Can't 
 you persuade Uncle Arthur to go to Florida, and 
 take Tom with him ? Tell Uncle, from me, that 
 he ought not to spend another winter in this cli- 
 mate. Something must be done quickly." 
 
 Perry's mention of his mother's ■will had caused 
 Eleanor to reflect that perhaps, after all, things 
 might not be entirely at her disposal ; and so it 
 proved. Especially was she chagrined to hear 
 the coveted watch disposed of in this manner : 
 
 "And to my beloved friend and adopted 
 daughter, I bequeath my Geneva watch and 
 chain, with a diamond pin attached." 
 
 And, besides this, there was a small legacy. 
 Of course Eleanor thought that Mother Harrison 
 was incapable of making a will, and they ought 
 not to think of carrying out such absurd be- 
 quests. But she was quickly silenced by Perry, 
 who said : 
 
 " Eleanor, if my mother had directed that 
 every one of her possessions should be buried a 
 hundred feet deep in the earth it should be done ; 
 
From Different Standpoints. 297 
 
 and 1 think that Dr. Mason's name as one of the 
 witnesses of this docunaent should be a sufficient 
 evidence of her mental state at the time." 
 
 And then my Lady Eleanor set about making 
 the best of that which she could not help ; and 
 very soon she found her opportunity to tui-n the 
 matter to advantage, as she thought. Miss Wil- 
 bur came to pay a call of friendly sympathy. 
 Eleanor, knowing that Tom was in the back par- 
 lor, took occasion to dwell upon Mother Harri- 
 son's affection for Una, and to say how very glad 
 she was for the girl because of the money left 
 her. " It was so opportune ; it would be such a 
 help to her in making up her bridal outfit." 
 
 To Miss Wilbur's expression of surprise at this 
 indirect announcement, Eleanor said, with seem- 
 ing confusion : 
 
 " Well, perhaps I ought not to have mentioned 
 it. Please do not speak of it. But Mr. Harri- 
 son's Cousin Daisy pointed out the gentleman 
 when we were in Redwood. You know Una 
 was up there a year or two ago, and it seems that 
 she captivated a young Redwood farmer. She 
 has a very captivating way with her ; don't you 
 think so ? " 
 
 ISTow, so little confidence had Tom Haddington 
 in Iris sister that, if she had come to him with 
 this story, he would not have believed it. But 
 he said to himself, "What possible reason could 
 
298 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 she have for inventing it to tell Miss Wilbur ? 
 She could not have known that I was here. Per- 
 haps I ought not to have staid here, but it never 
 once occurred to me that I was committing an 
 impropriety." 
 
 And with this thought Mr. Haddington let 
 himself out through the side-door, and walked 
 down street to find Perry, answering to his sis- 
 ter's call as he passed the front parlor that he 
 would return with her husband. He carried with 
 him a suspicion that he could not wholly reason 
 away, and which rankled and gave him a most 
 uncomfortable feeling. 
 
 But his sister was not yet through, though the 
 next thing she did was quite unpremeditated. 
 Miss Wilbur's call was a long one, partly because 
 she waited to see Mr. Harrison, and while she 
 was there Eunice came in. 
 
 " I find," she said, " that I left some of my be- 
 longings here, after our diligent search for every- 
 thing." 
 
 Then she and Miss Wilbur fell into a talk 
 about those boys. Miss Wilbur wondering if 
 Perry would give her another class, now that 
 Una had returned to her boys. 
 
 Just here Eleanor's evil genius helped her to a 
 sudden thought. 
 
 "Why," she said, evincing more interest in her 
 husband's schemes than was her wont, " I should 
 
I'rom Different Standpoints. 299 
 
 not wonder if Perry "would give you Ms class. 
 Some one will have to take it when we go away." 
 
 " Why ! " said Miss Wilbur, " are you going 
 away ? That is too bad I We can't let you go ! " 
 
 " I do not know how long we shall be gone, 
 nor just when we shall go," replied Eleanor. 
 " It depends upon other people a little, as jour- 
 neys do when there is a wedding in the case." 
 
 " Pray tell ! who is going to be married now ? " 
 exclaimed Miss Wdbur. 
 
 " Well," and Eleanor put on an air of hesi- 
 tancy which was not all assumed ; she could not 
 quite bring herself to utter a bare-faced falsehood, 
 and was trying to word her sentence so as to 
 make an impression, without making a false 
 statement directly, " I suppose that my brother's 
 engagement to Laura Myers has been talked of 
 so long that it can scarcely be called a secret, yet 
 it has never been publicly announced, neither am 
 I authorized to announce it," she^ said, laughing. 
 
 " We understand," returned Miss Wilbur, 
 nodding merrUy to Una, who began at once to 
 recall a thousand little things which corroberated 
 this insinuation of Eleanor's. 
 
 Well might Eleanor Harrison, looking at it 
 from her standpoint, congratulate herself upon 
 her morning's work. She had not made a single 
 false statement, and yet she had awakened sus- 
 picions wliich might possibly accomplish her pur- 
 
800 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 poses without further interference on her part. 
 To be sure, she had a sort of disgusted feeling 
 that she had descended very low to take such 
 means to bring about her ends ; but then she re- 
 flected that the matter was important enough to 
 make use of any means allowable. And after 
 all, she had only recounted some bits of gossip 
 which, put in the right light, were likely to serve 
 her purpose well. 
 
 Meantime the sad-hearted husband went about 
 feeling the sorrows of his lot pressing more and 
 more heavily upon him, until it seemed as if his 
 very life must be crushed out. If he had hoped 
 that his wife would be softened and subdued by 
 the nearness with which death had come ; if he 
 had hoped for sympathy, or even her tender con- 
 sideration, he had hoped in vain. Her own com- 
 fort was as usual her first thought. If her wishes 
 were attended to, she was always the most amia- 
 ble of mortals — the most fascinating of women — 
 but the disarrangement of her plans, even though 
 it was by the hand of death, could not be borne 
 patiently. 
 
 The one all-absorbing thought of Eleanor Har- 
 rison's life was a thought of self. It is astonish- 
 ing to note how this passionate love of self shuts 
 out all consideration for others, and leads one 
 even to dishonor. And as Perry learned more of 
 his wife's character, the low estimate which she 
 
From Different Standpoints. 301 
 
 put upon trutli and honor was to him a most 
 painful thought. This woman, whom he had 
 taken to his heart, believing her to be all that 
 was pure and lovely, was willing to descend to 
 petty persecutions, and daily exhibited traits of 
 character from which he turned with loathing 
 and disgust. And yet she was his wife ! He 
 would be true to his vows. This he said over 
 and over, humbling himself before God in bitter- 
 ness of soul. 
 
 No records were made in the Journal in these 
 days of fierce trial, no words could describe what 
 he was passing thi'ough ; but this verse, written 
 upon a slip of paper, and thrust between the 
 leaves of his memoranda, tell wherein he found 
 his strength : 
 
 " Though I walk through the valley and the 
 shadow of death, I wUl fear no evil, for thou art 
 with me." 
 
24. 
 
 If anybody ever went back home after a long 
 absence, with a vivid sense of responsibiUty, and 
 a strong determination to accomplish a great deal, 
 that person was Eunice Taylor. She had plans 
 and schemes innumerable. Her home, her fa- 
 ther and mother, her boys, her friends in every 
 direction came in for a share of her planning. 
 So much to do — so much that she could do. 
 There was a sad side to it all. There was no 
 Mother Harrison eagerly and intelligently inter- 
 ested in every new enterprise to talk it all over 
 with. And Eunice did not yet realize how she 
 should miss her, although she thought she did. 
 But she was just now in the mood to be lifted 
 up, even over the sadness. Her life seemed to 
 her to be one of self-abnegation, of self-surrender, 
 and it was fitting that this friend, too, should be 
 given up. 
 
 I am afraid. during these first days Eunice took 
 a sort of sad pleasure in her self-sacrifice, dwell- 
 ing with a certain feeling that might almost be 
 called satisfaction, oh the desolateness of the life 
 302 
 
jfVowi Different Standpoints. 303 
 
 stretcMng out before her. No special friend ! 
 One special friend lying in the grave, and one 
 special friend further removed from her than 
 though the grave covered him. " For then," she 
 said to herself, drearily, " I should have the right 
 to think ahout him." 
 
 And it did not seem to occur to her that cer- 
 tainly she was thinking about him most of the 
 time, whether she had the right or not. Indeed, 
 these two people, if the truth must be told, were 
 in danger of considering themselves very interest- 
 ing martyrs, and of making the most of their 
 martyrdom in what seemed a perfectly decorous 
 way, to be sure. It is a dangerous experience 
 when two people deliberately agree that, though 
 solemn and insurmountable barriers divide them 
 from each other, they still were made, "and origir 
 nally intended, for each other, and that, there- 
 fore, they have the right to get what comfort 
 they can out of the waste of life that remains. 
 
 Eunice Taylor had clearly accepted the situa- 
 tion. She reasoned with herself after this fash- 
 ion : " If Perry were happy and at rest, I should 
 have moral coiu:age enough, and pride enough to 
 make myself forget even his existence, if I chose. 
 But he has made a frightful mistake, and now 
 there only remains for us to do right, and get 
 what comfort we can out of it." 
 
 So she planned for the school. She would con- 
 
804 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 suit Perry about this and that and the other 
 thing, and see that matters shaped themselves 
 just according to his taste. He should not be 
 disappointed there at least. She found herself 
 constantly wondering if Perry would like this 
 and approve of that, and determining within her 
 mind to strike out in a dozen new ways that 
 would require his help and advice. AU simple, 
 innocent plans enough, valuable in themselves ; 
 destined, if carried out, to do a great deal of 
 good, and destined, also, to give her almost un- 
 limited opportunity for seeing and consulting 
 with Perry Harrison. 
 
 So pure and innocent were all these plans ; so 
 entirely on the side of what she believed to be 
 duty, that they did not interfere in the least with 
 her determination to pray and watch for the 
 change in Mrs. Harrison, that she believed would 
 make a different woman of her ; and yet, it must 
 be confessed, that she had no more faith that the 
 change would come, than she had that any other 
 weU-nigh impossible thing would happen to her. 
 The promise involved in the " Believe that ye re- 
 ceive, and ye shall have," she certainly could not 
 claim. As for Perry, his life by no means looked 
 so bright to him as Una's did to her. He was 
 weighed down under a heavy load of pain and 
 sorrow. He felt, both physically and mentally, 
 unable to cope with the dreary monster that life 
 
From Different Standpoints. 305 
 
 seemed to him to have become. He was inter- 
 ested, indeed, in all the plans for work, but not 
 with that absorbed interest that he had once felt. 
 A pall seemed to him to have dropped over 
 everything, and constantly he had to struggle 
 with the desire to do the only easy or inviting 
 thing that there seemed left to do — drop all ef- 
 fort at self-control and self-nurture, and lie down 
 on a sicli-bed and let life drift away from him. 
 
 During these days his source of comfort and 
 strength, humanly speaking, was found in Tom 
 Haddington, who lingered, despite the need he 
 felt for going, because he was anxious over his 
 brother-in-law's state, and saw that he was help- 
 ful to him. Also, to be frank, that was not the 
 only reason why he lingered. He was entirely 
 frank with himself. He knew that it was pleas- 
 anter for him to stay in the vicinity of Eunice 
 Taylor than it was to stay anywhere else in the 
 world. The little plan about her approaching 
 marriage with a Redwood farmer, that his sister 
 had concocted, fell to the ground by reason of 
 his straightforward nature. After revolving the 
 matter for a few days, he cut it short by the 
 frank question : 
 
 " By the way. Perry, is Miss Taylor soon to 
 marry ? " 
 
 " To marry ! " repeated Perry, wheeling around 
 on him in the library, and looking amazement, 
 
806 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 consternation and annoyance in the same second. 
 " Who on earth would you have her marry ? " 
 
 " It might not rest vi-ith me, j'ou know," Tom 
 answered, with heightened color. " But I heard 
 the report, and thought you would be likely to 
 know." 
 
 " It is utterly false," Perry said, haughtily, as 
 if he had been personally aggrieved. And Tom, 
 looking at him with grave, pitying eyes, said no 
 more, and felt that he had learned more than he 
 meant to. 
 
 Meantime Perry struggled hard against the 
 feeling of despair, where his wife was concerned, 
 and tried to reason himself into a braver, stronger 
 state. Yet his prayers for her were much like 
 Una's — ^hopeless and spiritless. What would the 
 All-wise, All-pitying Lord do to help and keep 
 these two children of his, whose lives ran so 
 closely together and yet so far apart? 
 
 Perry had his help first, and, as was fitting, it 
 came through the friend who was becoming so 
 dear to him. They were talking, he and Tom, 
 about a young man in whom Perry had, for a 
 year past, interested himself. 
 
 " I don't know," the latter said, wearily, just 
 at the close of the conversation, " I feel rather 
 hopeless in regard to him. I can't think of any- 
 thing that will be likely to touch him. He is in 
 a dangerous way, and, he seems to me, to be in a 
 
From Different Standpoints. 307 
 
 very hopeless way. I confess that I am discour- 
 aged." 
 
 Tom surveyed him thoughtfully, as one who 
 wondered whether it would be better to speak or 
 keep silent. At last he said : 
 
 " Do you know I don't like to hear you speak 
 in that way, my brother ? " 
 
 "In what way? " Perry asked, smiling a very 
 tender smile. Amid all the soreness of his pres- 
 ent relations there was one bright spot in the 
 thought that his marriage gave him a right to 
 claim brotherhood with this young man. 
 
 " Why, that you can't think of anything that 
 will touch that man, and that you are discour- 
 aged. It seems to me to limit the power of God. 
 Don't you think, my brother, that God can touch 
 his heart, if he wills to do so, and don't you think 
 that he waits to hear your prayer in this matter, 
 and that though he may see fit to keep you long 
 waiting, he will assuredly answer in Ms time ? " 
 
 Certainly, this was not new doctrine to Perry 
 Harrison. Had he been questioned in regard to 
 his belief, he would have most likely expressed 
 his views in language very similar to that which 
 his brother had used. Yet it suited the Lord 
 just then to pour a sudden flood of light on this 
 thought, insomuch that it seemed to him like a 
 new revelation. He had no answer for Tom. 
 He was silent for several minutes, but, when he 
 
308 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 turned Ms face tliat way again, it glo-wed with a 
 brightness that of late had been entirely strange 
 to him ; even, then he only said : 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 And Tom Haddington went away feeling that 
 the Lord had spoken words of meaning to his 
 friend. It wasn't of the young man of whom 
 they had been speaking that Perry thought, when 
 left alone. It was of his wife. Had he not in 
 his heart believed that she was hopelessly har- 
 dened and indifferent ? Had not his prayers for 
 her seemed to himself like leaden weights, drop- 
 ping down into dust as soon as uttered? Had 
 he riot said to himself that he knew of nothing 
 which could reach her? Now, suddenly, there 
 flashed over him the remembrance of the omnipo- 
 tence of the God whom he served. What mat- 
 tered it that he did not know how to reach her ? 
 Christ did ; and just then and there it came to 
 him — the hope, nay, more than the hope, the le- 
 lief — that Christ would have her for his own. 
 
 From that hour there was a new power for hv- 
 ing and doing breathed into Perry Harrison's 
 discouraged heart. As the days went on he car- 
 ried out many of his plans with eagerness, and 
 arranged for more work in every direction, and 
 threw himself into it. But the consuming de- 
 sire of his heart became the conversion of his 
 wife. For that he prayed with all his soul; 
 
From Different Standpoints. 309 
 
 about that he thought ■wherever he went, and 
 whatever he was about. It colored all his words 
 to her, and all Ms actions. He was in a constant 
 eager state of expectation. He looked for some- 
 thing very surprising to come to her and rouse 
 her. His faith had not yet reached high enough 
 to remember that God has no need of great or 
 surprising ways of doing things ; but it had 
 reached high enough to give him faith that, in 
 some way, the work would be done. The natural 
 result of such praying and such living followed. 
 
 What is the natural result ? Well, there are 
 several, but the one of which I now speak is the 
 fact of the impossibility of praying daily, hourly 
 — I might almost say constantly — ^for a person, 
 without having spring up in the heart a tender, 
 patient, unselfish feeling for that person, that 
 shall pervade all conversation, and color all as- 
 sociation. And when that person is a man's 
 wife, bound to him by sacred ties that, in the 
 sight of God, he has no right to sever, the feeling 
 grows until it may safely be called a liigh and 
 holy form of love. So, although the early pas- 
 sionate love that Perry Harrison believed himseK 
 to have felt for his bride had died a violent 
 death, there came in its stead this tender, patient, 
 persistent, unselfish love, that would not give her 
 up, that would not turn away from, and, as far as 
 possible, forget her, but would be, in every word 
 
310 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 and in every thought, true and patient. In 
 short, there came to Perry the knowledge that 
 this matter of loving is not a blind chance, as so 
 many, even Christian, people seem to think, but 
 that God's hand held it, and his power could 
 manage it. I can not tell you how it rested this 
 tossed soul to feel that even his mistakes were in 
 his Father's keeping, and that that Father was 
 bound in honor to bring good out of them. 
 
 Now what of Eunice ? Who will help her ? 
 For truly I tell you she was in danger. She had 
 come to that dangerous place where she believed 
 that it was impossible to help thinking of, and 
 planning with. Perry Harrison, in a way that it 
 is not good for any woman to think of, and plan 
 for, another woman's husband. The most pro- 
 saic and wearisome of all helps came to her, a 
 blessing so utterly disguised that she wept bitter 
 tears over it, and wondered why, and v/hy, imtil 
 her brain reeled. Into the midst of her eager 
 working and planning came a morning when, on 
 attempting to rise, she could only groan miser- 
 ably and fall back on her pillow, with a sense of 
 weakness and pain as new to her as it was un- 
 welcome. So utterly unaccustomed was- she to 
 sickness that, through all the day, she patiently 
 fought the symptoms, feeling assured that she 
 would conquer by the next morning. And it 
 was five "long, miserable days before she sue- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 311 
 
 cumbed to the fact that a slow, prostrating fever 
 had her in its grasp, and she was not to get away 
 — at least, not until it had taken time to wear 
 out her strength and powers of endurance. 
 
 A miserable invalid was Eunice Taylor. She 
 was willing to work ; no matter how hard the 
 drudgery, she believed her strength equal to it — 
 at least, she stood ready to try it. But to lie 
 still and be waited upon — to have the doctor 
 come, and count her pulse, and look at her 
 tongue, and give his unpalatable doses, and his 
 more unpalatable advice — to have her mother go 
 up and down stairs twenty times in the course of 
 one forenoon to minister to her necessities — to 
 have the father, whose hard life she had meant 
 to help in so many ways, grow daily paler and 
 more anxious over her — these required more for- 
 titude than Eunice felt she possessed. Still it 
 would do no good to say, " I can't." This was 
 work from which she could not slip away, and 
 excuse herself by an apology of unfitness. Pier 
 class had a substitute ; a stout girl in the kitchen 
 did much of her work ; her plans, most of them, 
 went on, with Perry's help ; but nobody was to 
 be found who would take her place on that bed, 
 and stare, day after day, at the pattern of crooked 
 lilies on the wall-paper. How could she help 
 wondering and wondering why she was not al- 
 lowed to work, just as, in her own estimation. 
 
312 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 she was ready. All this did not take place im- 
 mediately after the home-coming; indeed, the 
 bustle of the holidays was well over before Eu- 
 nice found that she was sick. But the sickness 
 — the first violence of it being spent — stUl lin- 
 gered, in that hopeless, dreary way that so many 
 invalids understand ; no worse, and apparently 
 no better, day after day. 
 
 All her life-long Eunice remembered the mis- 
 ery of those days. She saw nothing of Perry. 
 Either his prayers, or his new hopes, had opened 
 his eyes to the belief that it would be better for 
 his wife, better for himself, to see as little of Eu- 
 nice as possible, and what he did not know how to 
 manage her sickness came in and managed for 
 him. He did not forget her. His remembrance 
 took most practical forms. The stout girl in the 
 kitchen came by his recommendation, and was 
 sustained by his purse, and not a day passed that 
 substantials and delicacies did not appear at the 
 little house across the way from the great house. 
 
 Every day he was careful to learn just how she 
 was ; but, although the days grew into weeks, 
 and the weeks into almost two months, and Una 
 was sitting in state in the great arm-chair that 
 used to be his mother's, and had been sent over 
 specially for her, he did not come near her. 
 There were days, at first, when this was very 
 bitter to Una ; then there came days when she 
 
From Different Standpoints. 313 
 
 ■was very indignant ; then there came days wlien 
 she felt that he was wise and she was foolish, 
 but that she must still continue to be foolish ; 
 that there was no help for her except in death ; 
 and she weakly and feebly prayed to die, not 
 really meaning that, much more then she had 
 meant some other prayers of hers, but too weak 
 and desolate to know what she did mean. At 
 last she happened (?) upon a sentence in an old 
 book written many years ago, the writer of which 
 had for years been sleeping in his kindred dust ; 
 and these were the words she read : " Shall a 
 soul suppose that its plans and aims and pros- 
 pects are all mapped out for it by the divine 
 hand — each little thing it shall do, each little 
 way it shall go, except that great and wonderful 
 thing, the love of the human heart for another 
 human heart ? Shall it believe that that experi- 
 ence is a matter of chance ? that God has noth- 
 ing to do with it ? that he can not control it ? 
 that, if it love unworthily, it must, therefore, 
 continue to love unworthily through all time? 
 no help ? that, if it love unwisely, the unwisdom 
 must continue ? that, if it allow itself to love a 
 wicked man, it must forever love that wicked 
 man ? What foUy is this ! Shall not He who 
 formed the human heart be able to control and 
 guide its passions, if that heart be but willing to 
 submit to His guiding ? " 
 
314 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 There was more of it, but Eunice dropped the 
 book, and lay back on her pillow and cried ; not 
 for sorrow, either, but for joy. 
 
 Here was help — a great and mighty Helper. 
 Not unworthily was her love bestowed. But un- 
 wisely? yes, since the object of it had said of 
 another woman : " And, forsaking all others, I 
 will cleave only to her." Thus much Una had, 
 some weeks ago, begun to realize, but she was 
 still in the meshes of the folly that there was no 
 help, no escape. She had not forgotten her Al- 
 mighty Saviour. She still depended on him for 
 salvation — ^for heaven ; but she had ignored his 
 messages : " Lo, I am with you alway," " Let 
 not your heart be troubled," " I will give you 
 rest." Unconsciously she had adopted the ab- 
 surd platform that a love like hers was wrong, 
 and that she must continue its victim ! She 
 never forgot that day when hght broke upon her 
 darkness. It was curious how rapidly she recov- 
 ered after that ! rapidly, as compared with her 
 long days and weeks of no progress ; but the 
 work was slow enough. March, with her blus- 
 tering moods, was almost passing out from them 
 before Una appeared, wan and pale still, despite 
 the crimson wrapper, in the little parlor, and was 
 pronounced able to see one or two friends. 
 
 Afterward — years afterward — it struck her as 
 a strange thing that the last person from the out- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 815 
 
 side world with wlioin she had talked on that 
 evening before her sickness was Tom Hadding- 
 ton, and the first person who opened the door 
 eagerly on her, that first afternoon that she was 
 down-stairs, was Tom Haddington, with a tiny 
 bunch of hot-house violets. She remembered 
 vividly the first words she said to him : 
 
 " I didn't know you were in town. When did 
 you come ? " 
 
 And then in the very next breath : 
 
 " How is Laura Myers ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," he answered, won- 
 deringly, to her second question. " I haven't 
 seen her for three months, and I don't happen to 
 remember that I have heard any one mention 
 her name. Is she a special friend of yours ? I 
 didn't know it." 
 
 Then Una's cheeks were suddenly red ; her 
 own question began to seem so absurd to her. 
 And then, feeling that she was blusliing, and 
 feeling vexed that she should, she blushed harder 
 than ever. And Tom came and laid the sweet- 
 smeUuig spring beauties in her lap, and stood be- 
 fore her, smiling. 
 
25. 
 
 ELEANOE TO HEK MOTHEE. 
 
 Fel. — . Tliis is our wedding anniversary, as 
 yon may remember, though, in that case, you are 
 more thoughtful than any one in this vicinity. 
 Indeed, people here have time for • only one 
 thought, and the topic which is so all-engrossing 
 is, of co\u"se, Eunice Taylor ; no other person has 
 power to move the sluggish pulse of this quiet 
 town. Miss Taylor is sick — ^has been for weeks, 
 and it is almost amusing to see the interest which 
 centers in that sick-room. Every hour in the 
 day we have bulletins telling of the patient's 
 state, and as these do not vary greatly in their 
 report they cease to be of special interest. Seri- 
 ouslj', I suppose the girl is quite ill, and I am 
 not so much of a barbarian as to want to have 
 her suffer. But I can't help thinking that some 
 good may grow out of this confinement. If she 
 were well we should have Tom dawdling about, 
 and now I hope that he will get over his fancy 
 before she gets well ; and there is likely to be 
 316 
 
From Different Standpoints. 317 
 
 plenty of time, for the pliysician says she will not 
 recover very speedily. And now I suppose it is 
 true that her sickness is the result of her too 
 close attentions upon Mother Harrison. They 
 ought to have known better than to let a young 
 girl take such a responsible position ; but some 
 people will do almost anything, and run almost any 
 risk of health and life, for money. As usual, my 
 husband is very kind, doing everything that can 
 be done for the Taylors, and it is no more than 
 right that he should. I understand how he feels, 
 for she was a faithful attendant, and did more 
 for Mother Harrison than any stranger would 
 have done, and of course he feels he owes her a 
 debt of gratitude. If money could pay such 
 debts (dear me, I wish it could) she would have 
 been paid a hundred times over. I am glad that 
 I have not such a grateful disposition ; I should 
 not like to be forever in one's debt. But so long 
 as Perry, feels that way he wiU have to go on 
 paying in installments. 
 
 Well, as I said, this is our anniversary. Perry 
 has not spoken of it, and I wiU. not remind him 
 of the fact, so I presume we shall spend the day 
 like all other days. What a year this has been .' 
 I wonder if all the years to come will be like it I 
 I never expected to settle down into this hum- 
 drum sort of life. It might suit some women, 
 but it is not to my taste. I suppose that Eunice 
 
318 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 Taylor would have considered it the height of 
 bliss to have lived in this aristocratic old house, 
 and taken up the work which one might find to 
 do here. On the whole, I don't know but it was 
 a mistake that Perry did not marry her. I know 
 she thinks so, and I know, too, that he has 
 thought so ; but of late he seems changed. If it 
 were not for liis conscience we should get on 
 splendidly. It used to be his health ; but he has 
 outgrown that. I believe he would risk his life 
 for me. He seems to have forgotten that he 
 ought to be careful. Actually, I have to be care- 
 ful for him ! But that conscience of his is a most 
 inconvenient article to have about one. As for 
 managing tliat, I have given up in despair ; it is 
 altogether beyond me. 
 
 But, mamma, it is not a very pleasant thought 
 for any woman that her husband in his inmost 
 heart has felt that another should have had the 
 place he has given her ; and, though I believe 
 that he is trying to put that other out of his 
 heart and out of his thoughts, sometimes I just 
 hate them both. And this is the worst of all, 
 that he should have forgotten what day this is ! 
 You know that I never was sentimental over 
 birthdaj^s, and all that ; but I believe in a proper 
 notice of the first anniversary of one's marriage, 
 if only for the looks of it. 
 
 Well, I am going to ride ; so good-by until 
 after dinner. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 319 
 
 Later. — Well, mamma, I shall liave to take it 
 back ! Dear me, I wonder if I sliall have to take 
 more things back ! I went to drive, as I said ; 
 drove over to see Lliss Wilbur, and came around 
 by the river road, so that it was past dinner-hour 
 when I reached home. Found Perry waiting in 
 the dining-room. 
 
 " I am sorry you have been kept waiting," I 
 said, just as coldly as I could speak, for I had 
 been nursing my indignation all the morning. 
 
 "It is of no consequence," he said. "I have 
 only just come in." 
 
 I ran up stairs, not because I cared about keep- 
 ing him waiting, but because my drive had given 
 me an appetite. But I did not come down quite 
 as soon as I intended. On my dressing-table lay 
 a package, addressed " To my wife," with two 
 dates, one a year ago and the other to-day ! He 
 had not forgotten, after all ! And' that was why 
 he sent Thomas into the city last night and again 
 this morning. Then I had to dress for dinner; 
 my driving costume would not do at all with 
 such jewels as that box held ! I just wonder 
 what the man did with his conscience when he 
 spent such a sum for diamonds for his wife ! And, 
 mamma, I have not seen such a look on his face 
 for six months as he wore when I came down to 
 dinner with them on. Now don't imagine that 
 we rehearsed a scene. Nothing of the kind. We 
 
320 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 are not of that sort. He said, simply : " How do 
 you like them ? " and I replied, " They are mag- 
 nificent ! Thank you." And then we ate our 
 dinner. 
 
 I suppose it would have been proper to have 
 sentimentalized somewhat over the day we cele- 
 brate, but we are neither of us hypocrites enough 
 for that. He wanted to please me, and I was 
 pleased, and that is all there is about it. And 
 while I am so comfortable about Tom I can not 
 help being happy. I am sure I have all I wanted 
 when I married Perry Harrison. I never pre- 
 tended to have married for love. I wanted the 
 name and position which he had to give, and if 
 he chose to fancy that his love with it was some- 
 thing to set that off, why, I never disputed him. 
 
 This congratulatory mood in regard to her 
 brother continued until that March day when she 
 was surprised by his reappearance in Nassau. 
 She sat moodily looking over the last magazine 
 when he returned from his call upon Una. She 
 had been roused to a pitch of fury by seeing him 
 turn his steps in that direction an hour before, 
 and had scolded Perry as if he were to blame, 
 and finally driven him off to his room, where he 
 paced the floor, not fighting the old battle over ; 
 in that old struggle he had so far won the victory 
 that he had ceased, even in his secret heart, to 
 
From Different Standpoints. 321 
 
 think of the past as a mistake and to mourn over 
 it. All the ruins of the past were but a founda- 
 tion upon which to build anew, and the earnest, 
 wrestling prayers of the present were for his 
 wife. Daily he humbled himself before the Lord 
 that his faith might rise to take hold of that infi- 
 nite love which he longed to have encircle her. 
 It seemed to him that morning that she was 
 farther than ever away from God and from him. 
 Seldom had she been so bitter and sarcastic in 
 her remarks. Never had liis patience been more 
 tried ; never had he come so near utter despair ; 
 and, with her taunting and even insulting re- 
 marks ringing in his ears, he could only take his 
 position squarely upon the promises, and, resting 
 in the certainty of their fulfillment, wait God's 
 own time, which was nearer than he in his most 
 exalted moments dared to hope. 
 
 Eleanor's mood was not improved by what she 
 was able to draw from Tom as he passed through 
 the sitting-room. 
 
 " Well," she said, " so you have come back ! 
 I began to think that you were going to spend 
 the day ! Did you and Miss Taylor settle the 
 destiny of nations ? " 
 
 " Not exactly," he replied ; " we were only in- 
 terested in individual destinies." 
 
 He was passing through to the next room, but 
 she recalled him. 
 
322 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 " Tom, it is no secret, but you may not be 
 aware tbat Eunice Taylor was, and is yet for 
 aught I know, in love with my husband, and that 
 her illness is in a great measure owing to her dis- 
 appointment. Of course it is just as well to put 
 it that she was all worn out with the cares of last 
 summer ; but we all understand it. Now if you 
 want to marry her you may. I have told you 
 the truth. I presume, however, it will be all the 
 same to you. I don't pretend to understand 
 the code of morals which you and Perry and 
 some other people have adopted." 
 
 " Thank you," said Tom, his face flushing, 
 then paling. " Your warning comes too late. I 
 do not need any information as to Miss Taylor's 
 past history. And please to understand, Elea- 
 nor, that disparaging or insvilting remarks about 
 her wlLI be considered as personal. And another 
 thing do, I beg of you, take care how you speak 
 lightly of your husband's character, even to your 
 brother." 
 
 And he went out, leaving Eleanor angry and 
 ashamed. For once she was thoroughly ashamed. 
 She suddenly realized that it was no light thing 
 to speak thus of her husband ; and however 
 much he might endure from her, spoken to him, 
 it was a different matter when she cast suspicion 
 on him by talking to another. She knew Tom 
 would not tell him, but what if he had over- 
 
From, Different Standpoints. 323 
 
 heard ! Someway, all her plans and all her hopes 
 as well, seemed slipping away from her. Tom 
 would marry Eunice Taylor — that was evidently 
 a settled matter, in Ins own mind at least. They 
 were all linked together against her. Someway, 
 she felt shut out. Tom was .positively cruel to 
 her. She could not see why he need be so cross. 
 He had not been at all as he used to be since Eu- 
 nice Taylor went to New York. Of course she 
 had prejudiced him against her. It was a hard, 
 bitter lot ; but sometime she would have her re- 
 venge out of it ! Tossing her book away, she 
 went up stairs, reappearing, an hour later, in all 
 the magnificence of her last new toilet. 
 
 " Perry," she said at his door, " I am going to 
 the city on the train. If you choose to drive in 
 for me this evening you will find me at Mrs. 
 Clarke's. Otherwise I will come back at nine 
 o'clock." 
 
 " Why, isn't this a sudden start ? " 
 
 " Somewhat. But what do you think, will you 
 come for me ? " 
 
 "Certainly, unless something occurs to pre- 
 vent. I will be there at seven o'clock. Good- 
 by." 
 
 He looked after her with a longing, wistful ex- 
 pression, which did not escape Tom's eyes as he 
 stood by listening to the conversation. 
 
 "Unceremonious, I declare," he said, laugh- 
 
824 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 ing, "when I have only a couple of days to 
 stay ! " 
 
 Perry looked grave as he turned to resume the 
 conversation which had been broken off. He at 
 least was enjoying his brother-in-law's visit. They 
 dined together, and then went out to walk and 
 talk, and so passed the afternoon. 
 
 Meantime Eleanor was trying to get away 
 from herseK, though she did not know that. She 
 walked rapidly down the hill to the depot, and 
 found herself too early by fifteen minutes. It 
 was not a pleasant place in which to wait, that 
 dingy little sitting-room. But there seemed noth- 
 ing better to do, so she seated herself on one of 
 the benches, gathering her flounced train up out 
 of the dust, and prepared to endure the discom- 
 fort of the next quarter of an hour. 
 
 Two girls were walking about the room, with 
 the unrest of girlhood, eagerly picking up items 
 which might interest them for the moment. On 
 a table in one corner was a quantity of papers 
 and tracts. And Eleanor remembered just then 
 that she had heard Perry and Eunice discussing 
 the propriety of that arrangement, and she had 
 laughed at the idea, and said it was like all the 
 rest of their plans, pretty enough to talk about, 
 but of no practical value. People who wanted 
 that sort of reading would supply themselves, 
 and others would not be caught by that bait. In 
 
From Different Standpoints. 325 
 
 their progress around the room the young girls 
 came to this table, and, leaning over, began read- 
 ing snatches from . the papers. Eleanor paid 
 little attention to them, indeed, she was not con- 
 scious of listening at all, nor did she know until 
 afterward a single word they said ; but, when she 
 was seated in the car, these words flashed upon 
 her. She had heard them time and again, but 
 never did they come to her just as they did in 
 that hour. And years afterward she could hear 
 that fresh, young voice repeating, "Thou art 
 tried in the balances and art found wanting." 
 With a startling emphasis they came to her, as 
 if spoken by an invisible voice. There was a 
 jwhole sermon in the words, and never in her life 
 had she been so affected by any sermon. Tried 
 in the balances ! Suddenly all her past life 
 seemed thrown into the descending scale, which 
 sunk lower and lower, and, alas, she had nothing 
 with which to balance it ! Found wanting ! The 
 words rung in her ears, until it seemed as if they 
 were borne on the wind. She had been censur- 
 ing others, while her own life was an utter blank 
 — ^wanting ! , Overwhelmed by the thoughts 
 which flooded her brain, she was half a mind to 
 take the up-train and go back home from the 
 first station. But, finally considering that she 
 was " nervous," decided to go on. 
 
 " I declare," she said, " I stay cooped up so 
 
326 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 much that even this little trip has all unnerved 
 me. I shall be unfitted for going out at aU at 
 this rate." 
 
 Reaching the city, she first tried shopping as a 
 remedy for her low spirits. But someway sUks 
 and velvets had lost their attractions. Laces 
 were only a vexatious puzzle. And, after mak- 
 ing a few purchases, she sought out her friend, 
 Mrs. Clarke, hoping that in her cheery home she 
 would get brightened up. 
 
 As she waited a few moments for that lady's 
 appearance she said to herself : " My heart is as 
 heavy as lead. I don't see what is the matter 
 with me. I never was so troubled by anj-thing 
 as I am by that verse, and I have heard it a thou- 
 sand times. Dear me, I wish I could forget it." 
 
 Mrs. Clarke was full of chatter about the 
 things which usually interested Eleanor, but to- 
 day she could not get rid of the weight which 
 rested upon her heart. 
 
 Presently caUers came ; one lady was on her 
 w^y to a religious meeting, and full of eager in- 
 terest in it. 
 
 " You ought to go to the meetings," she said 
 to Mrs. Clarke. " They are wonderful. I never 
 heard such preaching. Yesterday afternoon the 
 text was : ' Will a man rob God ? Yet ye have 
 robbed me. But ye may say. Wherein have we 
 robbed thee ? In tithes and offerings.' And in 
 
From Different Standpoints. 327 
 
 the evening it was : ' Thou art tried, and art 
 found wanting-.' " 
 
 Eleanor started as if she had received an elec- 
 tric shock. Those words again ! Plow they fol- 
 lowed her ! The lady went on : 
 
 " You know Mrs. Gage. She has been a 
 church-member for years ; but this morning she 
 came into the meeting and said that she had been 
 led to look into her heart and life, and she saw 
 that, tried by the word of God, she was found 
 wanting, and it was now her purpose to give her- 
 self anew to Christ in a full consecration." 
 
 As the talk went on Eleanor felt as if she must 
 stop her ears ; it was distracting to her ; she 
 could not think connectedly, and she wondered 
 how she was to get through the afternoon. And 
 when her husband drove to the door an hour ear- 
 lier than the appointed hour — ^full of apologies 
 for coming so early, and explaining that there was 
 likely to be a heavy storm — she met him with 
 exclamations of delight, and would not listen to 
 their hostess' urgent invitations to wait for an 
 early tea. 
 
 " No," she whispered to Perry, " I want to get 
 home." 
 
 " Haven't you had a pleasant time ? " he asked, 
 as they rode away. 
 
 " No ; it was just horrid ! " 
 
 Her tone was so strange that Perry asked, anx- 
 iously : 
 
328 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 "Are you ill?" 
 
 " Thank you, I am perfectly well ; but I think 
 I am stupid. I guess I got chilled going down," 
 she replied. 
 
 " Your brother and I have had a good visit," 
 said Perry. " I tell you, Eleanor, Tom is a won- 
 derful Christian." 
 
 " Well," she replied, almost petulantly, " it is 
 well to have one in the family. None of the rest 
 of us make any pretensions to being remarkable 
 in that line. For my part, I never saw the need 
 of making a fuss over one's religion. Mine is 
 good enough for me." 
 
 « Oh, Eleanor ! " 
 
 That was all he said in reply to her, but there 
 was a world of tender yearning in the tone, and 
 Eleanor felt it. And here was another thing 
 that she could not get away from.. That was 
 just the beginning of a fierce conflict in Eleanor 
 Harrison's soul. Oh, the restless, weary tossings 
 of days and nights that followed ! Days and 
 nights within which there was no rest — no light ! 
 " Found wanting ! " Why, her life had been 
 one continual nothingness — she had absolutely 
 nothing to put against the folly and dissipations 
 of her Hfe, her envj'ings and hatreds, and all the 
 rest of the long array of sins which aU at once 
 stood out in all their ugliness. Of the fruits of 
 the Spuit, what had she wherewith to prove her 
 
From Different Standpoints. 329 
 
 right to the Christian name she bore ? She had 
 been so secure in her religious profession, and 
 now thus suddenly to find it turning into a shrun- 
 ken and lifeless thing, with no weight, and to 
 have nothing to jjut in its place, plunged her into 
 despair. Turn which way she would, she saw 
 only condemnation written. She could find no 
 rest for her weary soul. In vain she tried to oc- 
 cupy middle ground. She could not bring her- 
 self to a full personal consecration. To her mind 
 that involved so much that was impossible, and 
 she tried to make compromises with her soul. 
 She Avould be more patient and gentle. She be- 
 gan to realize how utterly selfish she was ; how 
 unwilling she was to make sacrifices for others, 
 while demanding of them constant yielding to 
 her wishes, and she resolved to begin a life of un- 
 selfish devotion to others — her husband first — 
 and then she would extend her loving ministra- 
 tions to those around her. But in vain ; she 
 could not rid herself of the ringing sound of that 
 word which followed her, and thrust itself in and 
 spoiled everything she undertook. What Avas 
 the use of doing anything, if always there be 
 something " wanting ? " What should be put in 
 the balance ? It was one morning at prayers 
 that it came to her, in two words which Perry 
 read. She did not remember the connection at 
 all. Her ear caught the expression, and sud- 
 
330 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 denly it all rushed upon her that here was what 
 she needed, " Christ's righteousness!" With 
 this to throw into the balance she would never 
 betried with that miserable result, "found want- 
 ing." 
 
26. 
 
 A shadow darkened the doorway of the neat 
 little back parlor where Eunice Taylor sat, suf- 
 ficiently recovered now to trifle with a bit of sew- 
 ing, or read a little, or take short walks around 
 the room, as her fancy might please. She glanced 
 up, expecting to see her mother, or perhaps Aunt 
 Katy — a kind old friend near at hand, who had 
 been by turns nurse, and watcher, and cook, and 
 all the time a faithful friend during the long Ul- 
 ness. 
 
 " Why, good afternoon," she said, slowly, an 
 accent of surprise as well as of doubt how to re- 
 ceive her caller showing in her tones, for it was 
 Mrs. Perry Harrison, in faultless afternoon toi- 
 let, standkig before her. 
 
 " Come in, please," and she half arose, as if 
 she would give her visitor a seat. 
 
 " Oh, don't get up," Eleanor said, gliding into 
 the room, and coming close to the crimson chair. 
 " How ill you look ! No, I mean how well, com- 
 pared with • what one might have expected after 
 such a long sickness. They told me you were 
 
 331 
 
. 332 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 greatly changed. How long is it since that after- 
 noon when I saw you last ? Does it seem very 
 long to yon ? Oh, dear ! " 
 
 To what did the exclamation apply? And 
 what had occurred to make Mrs. Harrison ner- 
 vous? Positively this was the first time that 
 Eunice had seen her since the day before she 
 was taken sick. 
 
 Among all the callers who had penetrated to 
 her sick-room since she began to grow better, 
 and among all the less intimate friends who had 
 called since she came down stairs, Mrs. Harrison 
 had not been counted. For the sake of the pub- 
 lic, and the desire she had to have Perry's rela- 
 tions with liis wife appear weU before that pub- 
 lic, Eunice had been sorry. For herself she re- 
 joiced. In her weakened state she had dreaded 
 meeting her persistent foe. Her cheeks grew 
 red, and she felt nervous over meeting her this 
 afternoon. Why had she come ? Some unpleas- 
 ant errand must have brought her. It did not 
 appear for some time why she had come. She 
 was strangely silent, lapsing into long pauses, 
 when her face, from the grave, troubled expres- 
 sion that rested on it, was a study. 
 
 Eunice watched her with a puzzled air, the 
 nervousness gradually passing off. Mrs. Harri- 
 son was somehow somewhere changed. What 
 was it ? Xothing definable, nothing tangible — a 
 subtle, mysterious, positive something. 
 
T'rom Different Standpoints. 833 
 
 Breaking a longer pause than usual, whicli had 
 followed an attempt to be civil and commonplace 
 in her inquiries and expressions of sympathy, 
 Mrs. Harrison said, suddenly : 
 
 " Eunice, suppose you wanted to begin life all 
 over again — ^just as if you hadn't lived it at all, 
 or wanted to forget that you had — ^hpw would 
 you begin ? " 
 
 What a strange question I 
 
 " Why," said Eunice, hesitating," and laughing 
 a little, " I think I would just begin. I might 
 not be able to forget, you know ; but I would 
 play that I did, and go ahead, doing the best that 
 I could." 
 
 To herself she said : " I surely ought to be 
 able to give advice on that point. Don't I want 
 to begin at the beginning, and forget everything ? 
 I wonder what it is that she wants to forget? " 
 
 " But I mean," said Mrs. Harrison, and her 
 fair face flushed a deep red, " suppose one's life 
 had been a deception from beginning to end; 
 suppose one had deceived one's self first, in a 
 measure — well, yes, largely, and then had de- 
 ceived others more — one's very best friend, you' 
 know — and, indeed, everybody ; and suppose one 
 were dreadfully, awfully sick of the life of decep- 
 tion and sin, where would one commence ? 
 
 " Mrs. Harrison," said Una, laying down the 
 bit of needlework she had been holding, and 
 
334 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 turning astonished eyes on her guest, " what can 
 you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean more than you can possibly imagine. 
 And I don't know why I am telling you, except 
 that it seems to me I must tell somebody. Eu- 
 nice Taylor, you think you know me ; and you 
 tkink I am only a cold, selfish woman, without 
 any heart or conscience. I'm a good deal more 
 than that ; I've choked my heart, and stifled my 
 conscience, and my worst enemy need not have 
 wished me a more miserable life than the one I 
 have been leading. Now I want help. It seemed 
 to me as though perhaps you could give it, and I 
 have come to ask you. Once, away back, ever 
 so many years ago, I believed I was converted. 
 For a little while I kept up the farce of being re- 
 ligious, or what passed for the name ; but finally 
 I came to believe that there was nothing to it 
 hut name ; that I had as much as anybody else, 
 and the people who pretended to have more 
 were hypocrites or fanatics. My mother was a 
 church-member, and that, among other things, 
 confirmed me in my views. -Well, I wouldn't if 
 I could go back and tell you about all my miser- 
 able life ; it would make you sick again. Yet I 
 have resolved to tell you this afternoon some 
 things that I never meant to tell to anybody, in 
 order that you may help me. Once I was en- 
 gaged to a man whom I respected and loved. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 335 
 
 « 
 
 He lost his money, through what seemed to me a 
 piece of folly, born of religious fanaticism. He 
 called it common honesty. We quarreled and 
 separated. That is a long story, but I put it 
 briefly, because I do not like to talk about it. 
 After that I became engaged to Perry Harrison. 
 I never loved him. I respected liim, and his 
 money, and his old name, and liis education, and 
 all that sort of thing ; and I didn't believe I was 
 doing anything so very wicked, for I thought I 
 could make him happy enough. He was a gay 
 young man when I knew him first, and would 
 have been satisfied with a gay life such as I was 
 willing to lead with him. But it all turned oiit 
 so utterly .different from anything that I had 
 planned. You know what sort of man he became ; 
 but you don't know how nearly I have come to 
 hating him for it, nor what an awful life I have 
 Uved; not realizing, either, that the awfulness 
 was of my making. I didn't love my husband, 
 but I resented his not loving me, and I believed 
 myself an ill-used creature, who had a right to 
 get what she could out of a wicked life ; but I 
 hauen't been able to get anything out of it but 
 utter misery. I believe I have been nearer sui- 
 cide than many a one who reaches that depth at 
 last. Now, Eunice Taylor, why am I telling you 
 all tills ? I have as nearly hated you as it is pos- 
 sible for a sane woman to hate another woman ; ' 
 
336 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 and yet, you see, I am coming to you for help. 
 Don't speak yet ; I have more to say. I have 
 had an experience, lately, different from anything 
 else in Ufe. I have found that I never was a 
 Christian ; that there is Christianity ; that there 
 is a Saviour, and that he can and has both saved 
 and forgiven me." • 
 
 " Thank God I " said Eunice, in a low, awe- 
 stricken tone. 
 
 " Thank you for that," Mrs. Harrison said. 
 " It makes me feel that I have come to the right 
 source for help. I beheve in my soul that God 
 sent me to you. I did not mean to tell you all 
 the miserable story that I have been pouring out ; 
 I meant to have been utterly silent about some 
 portions of it ; but I have grown so awfully sick 
 of deception, in all its forms, that there are times 
 when it seems to me it would be a relief to cry 
 the whole story out to a gaping world. Now I 
 am coming to the place where I want your help. 
 How much of this miserable story ought I to tell 
 my husband ? I need not tell you that I have 
 learned to respect him as few men can be res- 
 pected ; and I need not assure you that I mean 
 to try with all my soul to repair some of the mis- 
 ery of the past. But will it repair it, to go over 
 those sickening details, a hundred times more 
 sickening than you can imagine, and make clear 
 to him where I have stood ? " 
 
From Different Standpoints. 337 
 
 For the first time since her excited story began 
 she paused, and waited eagerly, one might al- 
 most say hungrily, for Eunice's reply. What 
 could she say to her ? 
 
 " You ask me such a sudden and such a solemn 
 question," she said at last, " that I ought not to 
 answer you hastily. I don't know what to say 
 or to think. You have overwhelmed me." 
 
 " I know ; you are sick, and 1 ought not to 
 have come ; but I couldn't help it. I'll tell you 
 one other thing, and then the depths of my deg- 
 radation will have been reached. That man, the 
 one with whom I quarreled, and whom I sent 
 away from me, has always been, and is to-day, 
 the one man who is more to me than any one on 
 earth; and, up to three days ago, I could have 
 said than any one in heaven. I have tried to 
 hate Inm ; I have struggled hard ; I believe I 
 have succeeded in acting to him as though I did 
 hate him. But, well, I haven't, and it is impos- 
 sible. Now, is it ever going to be possible to get 
 away from this feeling? And is this a thing 
 that, in order to be true, I must confess to my 
 husband ? " 
 
 Now, Eunice began to have a glimmer of the 
 way she had been led, and the reason why. Was 
 it that she might help this struggling, tempted 
 soul? Why not? But, in order to help her, she 
 must be as frank as herself. Could she be ? If 
 
3S8 From Different Standpoints.. 
 
 she couldn't, what had the Lord Jesus a right to 
 thmk of the prayers that she had offered for that 
 soul? Her hesitation was brief. 
 
 " Eleanor," she said, leaning forward and lay- 
 ing her hand on Mrs. Harrison's arm, and addres- 
 sing her by a name that she rarely used, " you 
 have reached ground now where I can indeed 
 help you. What one has experienced one's self 
 one can know to be true. You can conquer that 
 feeUng ; God both can and will help you. He is 
 faithful who promised, and will not suffer you to 
 be tempted above what you are able to bear. 
 He can take awaj' the love you ought not to feel. 
 He can give you rest of soul, just where it ought 
 to rest. Eleanor Harrison, I know, for I have 
 been down to the very depths of that deg- 
 radation of which you speak — Slower down, per- 
 haps, than you have been. I know what I am 
 talking about, and I know he who made the heart 
 can hold its loves and its hates in his hand. I 
 wonder if j'ou understand me ? Remember, I 
 say, I know it to be true." 
 
 " I understand," said Mrs. Harrison, speaking 
 in a low tone of suppressed excitement. " I un- 
 derstand you fully. I thank you, and I thank 
 God for your words. They help me as no other 
 words could." 
 
 "As for the other question," said Eunice, 
 strangely calmed now, the very force of her ef- 
 
From Different Standpoints. 339 
 
 fort to say that which cost her pride so dear 
 seemed to have hushed the tumult in her heart, 
 " I must think of that ; I may be wrong, utterly 
 wrong. But it seems to me now that it can do 
 no possible good to lead your husband through 
 all the misery of such revelations. He has had 
 enough to bear. Surely you might spare him 
 where you could, ifo, I would begin right here, 
 it seems to me. Eleanor, he knows enough. 
 Why, you have shown him in a thousand ways 
 that you do not love him. If you can begin to 
 show him that you respect him, it will be dearer to 
 him now than anything else can be ; and I feel sure 
 that the respect that you can bestow, and that, as 
 a Christian, you will grow to feel for him, will be 
 a truer basis than that of mere human, unhal- 
 lowed love. Now, as I said, this may be wrong 
 advice. I can not teU. I am startled and al- 
 most frightened by your story, and yet I pity 
 you as I could not have pitied you but for some 
 things that I have felt. And I wUl help you, 
 oh, how I will help you ! I feel now as if I 
 could." 
 
 " You have told me the truth," Mrs. Harrison 
 said, rising, and drawing her wraps around her, 
 " and that in itself has helped me. I was almost 
 forced to come to you. I don't know what I 
 shall do or where I shall commence ; but I know 
 I must commence a different life with my hus- 
 
340 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 band. He has borne a great deal. I'll make 
 what amends I can." 
 
 She came over close to Ennice's chair, and 
 touched her arm with a gentle, caressing sort of 
 movement. Another woman of different mold 
 would have bent and kissed the girl. Mrs. Har- 
 rison only stood close beside her. 
 
 " Una," she said, at last, using the name she 
 had almost never used, " you have had a great 
 deal to bear from me. I believe you are great 
 enough to forgive me. Can you let me be your 
 sister, I wonder ? " 
 
 There were tears in Una's eyes, and she could 
 not trust her voice to make any answer ; but she 
 did what she had not supposed it possible to do 
 to Mrs. Perry Harrison — she raised herself to a 
 level with the fair, haughty face, and left a ten- 
 der kiss on her cheek. 
 
 It was long since she had written in her Jour- 
 nal — not, indeed, since her sickness. I think 
 she felt satisfaction in writing in it occasionally, 
 because it merely received the revelations that 
 she made from time to time, mthout regard to 
 the strange changes of opinion which she chron- 
 icled, and without demanding wearisome expla- 
 nations as to how she reached that state of feel- 
 ing. So she wrote just what she wanted to ex- 
 press, utterly unintelligible though it must have 
 been, viewed from the Journal's standpoint. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 341 
 
 April 18 — . Poor Eleanor Harrison ! "What 
 a fierce, undisciplined heart she has ! What 
 struggles she will have to make ! What strug- 
 gles she has made to crush her better self ! What 
 an infinite compassion to wait for her, and call 
 after her, and receive her at last as His child, 
 even though she had professed to bear His name, 
 and was a false witness for Him all the time ! 
 What a Saviour ! Surely no human heart wUl 
 dare to stand aloof and unforgiving after that ! 
 I will help her ; I feel sure that I can. Don't I 
 know something of the struggle ? Don't I know 
 the heights of grace that our Lord is willing to 
 bestow ? What strange leadings ! Fierce lives ! 
 We need none of us have had them, if we had 
 been willing to be led, instead of insisting on 
 leading ourselves. And yet the Lord would not 
 let us make shipwreck. He will save us all. 
 He will give us work, I verily believe, to do for 
 him. He will even crown us each with jewels at 
 the last. What wonderful forgiveness ! Surely 
 there is no sin that a child of his ought not to 
 learn to forgive in another. She asked me if I 
 could be her sister. I had t« do it. It was an 
 awful humiliation, but for the sake of her soul's 
 peril I had to do it. I had to be entirely frank. 
 I believe it helped her. Yes, I will be her sister. 
 Perry, my brother, I will be your wife's faithful, 
 patient, helpful, forgiving sister. So help me 
 God. 
 
342 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 More writing. Eleanor wrote a letter that 
 night to her mother. Perry waited for her in 
 their dressing-room, and watched the swift pen 
 move gracefully over the paper, and marked the 
 flush on her cheek, and wondered, with a heavy 
 sigh, what she could be writing ; and whether it 
 was another letter that ought to blush to see the 
 light of daj'. Thus ran the letter : 
 
 Dear Mamma : 
 
 I want' you to do something for me. I want 
 you to gather every letter that I have ever writ- 
 ten to you since I was married, every scrap, and 
 burn them all. Do it just as soon as you get 
 this letter. I want you to burn every single 
 word ; and I wish I could in some way burn the 
 remembrance of them from your heart. 
 
 Mamma, a great deal of what I have written 
 you is false. Indeed, almost everything I ever 
 wrote you or told you I believe has been false. 
 I am a living lie ! I have been, but oh — ^well, 
 mamma, I do not know how to tell you anything 
 about it, for I feel sure that you would not un- 
 derstand. You are a member of the Church, 
 just as I have been ; but still I know that you 
 will not understand the change in me. I can 
 not tell you about it, but it does seem to me 
 that I can live it. I would give all the money I 
 am worth in the world if I had not written you 
 
From Different Standpoints. 343 
 
 those letters. I have insulted my husband, and 
 he is grand enough for me almost to faU down 
 and worship him instead. And some of the very- 
 times I was writing to you I felt that he was. 
 
 Mamma, he is waiting for me now while I am 
 writing, and it makes me nervous. I will break 
 right off here. Perhaps next time I can write 
 more coherently. Only, mamma, be sure you do 
 just as I say. 
 
 " Tom," said Mrs. Haddington to her son, as 
 he dropped in one morning to receive her com- 
 mands, " I really think you ought to go down to 
 Nassau and look after Eleanor. I believe she is 
 losing her mind. I received the most utterly in- 
 coherent letter from her last night that you ever 
 heard of. She says I wUl not understand her, 
 and I'm sure I don't. Just read it, and see what 
 you think." 
 
 It was a very reluctant hand that reached out 
 to receive the letter. At first Tom Haddington 
 was tempted to say that he would not read it ; 
 that he had tolerated enough of his sister's let- 
 ters. But, on second thought, it seemed neces- 
 sary to be prepared for anything she might do. 
 So he held the dainty perfumed note in disdain- 
 ful fingers and read. But when he handed it 
 back there was a light in his eyes and a ring in 
 his voice that made his mother wonder. 
 
344 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 "Instead of losing her mind, mother, I should 
 say that she was at last coming into the posses- 
 sion of her sense. ' Clothed, and in her right 
 mind.' The God of miracles still lives." 
 
 " I believe you are all of you insane together, 
 and I wish I knew what to do with you." 
 
 Tlius muttered his mother as her son turned, 
 with apparently a new-born, eager purpose, and 
 hastily left the room. 
 
27. 
 
 It was a strange, sad comment upon tlie rela- 
 tions existing between tMs husband and wife, 
 that Eleanor could go to Eunice Taylor, whom 
 she had so hated, and could write to her mother,, 
 whose Christian life she felt had little depth. 
 She could speak to these two of the change which 
 had come to her, yet she could not summon cour- 
 age to tell Perry of this' new experience. Twice 
 during the day following her interview with Una 
 her hand was upon the knob of the library door, 
 but even then she turned back. She had an in- 
 tense longing to make amends for all the VTrong- 
 doing of the past ; she longed for his forgiveness ; 
 she felt that she could go down on her knees to 
 him and beg him to forgive her for all the fearful 
 vnrongs she had done him. But she knew that 
 he would scarcely understand the depth of her 
 sorrow, unless he knew all. 
 
 " He would not hate me quite, even if he knew 
 everything," she said to herself; "and God 
 knows I have no wish to deceive any one. And 
 yet, as Una said, he has suffered enough already, 
 
 345 
 
346 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 and I may spare him now. But how shall I 
 prove to him that I am trying to begin all over ? 
 Will he not think it all another piece of acting ? 
 If he really knew me as I have been he might 
 well think so." 
 
 It was positively a sacrifice for Eleanor not to 
 lay open to her husband's gaze the horrible, 
 black gulf of sin and falsehood and deception 
 through which she had dragged, and from which 
 she had been lifted by the siirpassing love of an 
 infinite Saviour. She had such a desire to have 
 all clear between herself and Perry, and such a 
 longing for help and sympathy, that it was hard 
 to be silent. It was a sacrifice to save, not her 
 own feelings, but another's, and beyond this long- 
 ing for his forgiveness there was growing up in 
 her heart an intense, eager desire to stand by her 
 husband's side in liis work for the Saviour, who 
 had held her back from utter ruin, who had given 
 her grace to turn forever away from her sin and 
 folly. She did not realize how utterly opposed 
 to Christian work were all her habits of thought, 
 her tastes, her associations, everything which had 
 hitherto made up her life. Only to hegin — to 
 get a sure footing beside Perry and Tom and 
 Una, and the battle would be won. 
 
 Well had Una written, " Poor Eleanor Harri- 
 son ! What struggles she will have to make ! " 
 Would she find it easier to put into her life that 
 
From Different Standpoints. 347 
 
 which she coiild not put into words? Would 
 they, Perry and Tom, understand? Well, if 
 they did not " (and a thrUl of joy animated her 
 whole being as she thought), " There is One 
 who knows, and he will give me the opportuni- 
 ties I seek." 
 
 For one who had been for years a church-mem- 
 ber Eleanor knew little about the Bible prom- 
 ises; but she knew that somewhere were such 
 words as these : " CaU unto me and I will an- 
 swer thee, and show thee great and mighty things 
 which thou knowest not." And she resolved to 
 ask Christ to show her what to do, where to be- 
 gin. It was not like Eleanor Harrison to make 
 much of the inner life at the expense of the 
 outer. The heart cleansed, the sources of action 
 purified, her desires and hopes took practical 
 shape. To undo the wrongs, where this was 
 possible ; to build up anew upon the ruins of the " 
 irreparable ; this was her hope and eager desire ; 
 these were the opportimities she sought. Even 
 the smallest details of her course she would re- 
 pair just as fast as she could. She had begun by 
 requesting her mother to destroy those miserable 
 letters, and now she waited to be led forward — 
 waited, and yet it was not a restful waiting. She 
 was too much accustomed to having things done 
 without waiting. All her life she had been ex- 
 acting and impatient of delay, and this was only 
 
348 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 one of the many forms of selfishness against 
 which she must hereafter struggle. 
 
 The spring came on early that year. The 
 March days had only just gone hj, with their 
 blustering winds, and the weather was warm, the 
 birds were singing, and the grass already began 
 to take on a greenish hue ; and Eleanor, unable 
 to settle to anything in-doors, went out to walk 
 off her unrest. She was really and truly resting 
 in the love of Christ; she felt that henceforth 
 there was no doubt about her belonging to him ; 
 and now she wanted something to do for him — 
 she was eager to " witness " for Christ. The 
 lesson of patient waiting was hard for her to 
 learn ; but our Lord, who knoweth our frame, 
 will not lay upon us heavier burdens than we 
 can bear, neither will he give us harder lessons 
 to learn than we can, by the aid of the Spirit, 
 conquer. 
 
 And so it was that some little work was given 
 her to do that very day. As she passed through 
 the dining-room on her way out she saw the new 
 girl, which was the seventh since she sent away 
 the faithful Molly, making bungling attempts at 
 putting the room in order. 
 
 " Oh, dear," she said to herself, " what a dis- 
 tracting looking room ! How will Perry ever 
 swallow a mouthful of dinner ! I am sure I don't 
 know what to do ! I wonder why we have such 
 
JVom Different Standpoints. 349 
 
 wretched times getting servants that are efficient. 
 There was Molly; she was a splendid housekeeper, 
 I will own that, if she had but known her place. 
 I don't think we have had a decent meal since 
 she went. But I couldn't put up with her ways." 
 
 Couldn't you, Eleanor Hamson? "Well, who 
 could put up with yours? It was just that 
 thought that came to her, and she blushed to re- 
 member how she had sent away this old-time 
 servant, who seemed necessary to the comfort of 
 the household. .Eleanor must have been strangely 
 humbled when she could have said, even to her- 
 self that perhaps she was somewhat to blame. 
 The truth was, she knew actually nothing about 
 housekeeping matters, and Perry sadly missed 
 the comforts and the perfect order to which he 
 had all his life been accustomed. Eleanor had 
 not seen Molly for months, and had no know- 
 ledge of her place of residence. Was it chance 
 that led her to stop at a street corner, undecided 
 which way to go ? " It looks pleasant down that 
 way," she thought, " and I have never • been 
 there." So she turned into the narrow street, 
 and had gone but a few steps when a voice broke 
 upon her ears. 
 
 " Were you coming to see me, Mrs. Harri- 
 son?" 
 
 It was MoUy, who rose from her stooping-pos- 
 ture among the flower-beds, and turned as if she 
 
350 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 would pass into the house to receive her visitor. 
 Eleanor hesitated a moment before replying. 
 Then she said, laughing : 
 
 " I believe I was, though I confess I did not 
 know it until this moment. But I won't go in ; 
 it is so sunny I would prefer to talk here." 
 
 Fifteen minutes later Molly entered the house, 
 and, speaking to a white-haired woman who was 
 sewing in the cosy little front room, said : 
 
 " Mother, I am going back to Mrs. Harrison's." 
 
 " Is that a wise thing to do ? " said the mo- 
 ther. 
 
 " I don't know, but I promised Mrs. Harrison. 
 I don't know what possessed me, but she had the 
 words out of me before I knew it. Someway she 
 seemed different. I can't tell how, but more 
 like the dear mother. Maybe the spirit of that 
 precious woman has someway entered into the 
 young woman. I don't know what it is, but she 
 is different." 
 
 " When do you go ? " asked the mother. 
 
 " This afternoon," was the reply. " She said 
 she wanted me to get tea ; that it was a surprise 
 that she was planning for Mr. Perry. She said 
 she knew he had missed my ways about the 
 house." 
 
 " Well," said the mother, " you can do as you 
 think best, but I should think you had enough 
 of life with that woman at the head." 
 
From Different Standpoints. 351 
 
 "I shall try it, anyway," returned Molly, with 
 decision. 
 
 As for Eleanor, quite elated over her work, 
 she hastened home, thinking how she would en^ 
 joy Perry's surprise. She managed to detain 
 him in the library until the tea-bell sounded. 
 They went down together. 
 
 " I really believe that our newest experiment 
 is going to be a success," said Perry ; " this cer- 
 tainly looks like it, though it has taken her some 
 time to show her skill." 
 
 It was certainly an improyement upon the re- 
 cent order of things. Fresh table-linen, glitter- 
 ing silver and glistening glass, smoothly-cut 
 slices of bread evenly arranged upon the plate, 
 pinky slices of cold meat without any ragged 
 edges — everything in perfect order, the delicious 
 aroma of properly-made tea pervading the room. 
 All this was accredited to the slatternly girl who 
 had of late served up such nauseous dishes. 
 
 Eleanor enjoyed Perry's surprise and evident 
 pleasure ; and he, noticing her manner, was puz- 
 zled by it. Indeed, he had more than once been 
 puzzled within the past few days. Eleanor's 
 moods were always varying, but of late, though 
 not so varying, they had seemed new and strange. 
 In response to his remark upon the change for 
 the better in the table appointments, she only said 
 she hoped it would last. But there was more 
 
352 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 tlian that in her face, and he waited to have it 
 explain itself. Presently the trim and familiar 
 Molly appeared with a plate of Perry's favorite 
 muffins. 
 
 " Ah ! " said thp gentleman, " this explains it. 
 Do you always take hold of the work when you 
 make a visit ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, Molly is not visiting us," replied Mrs.' 
 Perry. " She has come to stay, for a time at 
 least." 
 
 " That's it ! Well, it will seem like living 
 again. But Eleanor," he continued, as MoUy 
 left the room, " do you think it a wise thing to 
 do ? Will Molly be more yielding than formerly, 
 do you imagine ? " 
 
 There was a bright color on Eleanor's cheek, 
 as she answered with an embarrassed laugh : 
 
 " Well, Perry, I don't know as to that ; but I 
 thought that perhaps we had both learned some- 
 thing, and if we should each yield a little the 
 points of contact would soon wear smooth." 
 
 " Well, arrange it as you choose. Only I 
 would not like to have the old story repeated," 
 returned Perry, and Molly's reappearance put an- 
 end to the talk upon that subject, but to Perry 
 his wife was becoming more of a puzzle than 
 ever. Could it be the proud, haughty Eleanor 
 who talked of mutual concessions, and this, too, 
 in connection with a servant ? What had come 
 
From Different Standpoints. 353 
 
 over lier ? Even in her most gracious moods she 
 had never been like this ; she had never been 
 known to acknowledge herself in the wrong 
 in the slightest degree. He grew anx- 
 ious as he remembered that for days a change 
 had been coming over her. Could she be ill ? 
 "Was it physical weakness that had depressed her 
 spirits ? Or was she pining for a change ? True, 
 she did not seem sad to-night, only quiet ; there 
 was a gentleness that was almost sweetness in 
 her tones, which was different from the smooth, 
 even, society manner usual with her. Different, 
 in that they sounded like heart-tones. But 
 Perry, blind and deaf, did not understand them. 
 He thought her lonely and homesick, and read in 
 the softened manner a sort of patient submission 
 to the inevitable. 
 
 And that evening, long after she slept, he 
 paced up and down the library, his brain racked 
 with varying plans. 
 
 " Can I never make her happy ? " he thought. 
 " Will she not see that I am trying to atone for 
 the wrong I have done ? Unconscious though it 
 was, it was a wrong such as a woman like Elea- 
 nor would find it hard to overcome. Perhaps we 
 ought to go away from here ; she has never been 
 happy here, and now there are so many unpleas- 
 ant associations at every turn of the old place 
 that, hard as it is, I am almost ready to turn my 
 
354 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 back upon it, for her sake. God knows that I 
 would make almost any sacrifice for her." 
 
 It was true. The sacrifices which had been met at 
 first from a sense of duty had become the willing 
 offerings of a loving heart. It was not the wor- 
 shipping love of youth, nor yet a hoping, trust- 
 ing requited love ; but a tender, pitying love, 
 that would draw its object within the circling 
 love of God. With even such a love, deep, ear- 
 nest and self-sacrificing, Eleanor Harrison might 
 well have call herself blessed. 
 
 It was with this longing for the power to make 
 her happy that he . planned and prayed and 
 fought, with the temptation to lie down in des- 
 pair, for there were times even yet when answer 
 to his prayers seemed afar off — when he felt that 
 he could scarcely endure the waiting — as if they 
 must have help for the life that they were lead- 
 ing ; and this was not more upon his own ac- 
 count than upon hers, for he knew that his wife 
 was not happy ; that he had utterly failed in his 
 efforts to help her to bear the sorrow which had 
 come upon her as the result of the fearful mis- 
 take into which they had fallen. He would take 
 his wife and go away ; it would be better for aU. 
 Una was recovering, and yet he had not seen 
 her ; not that he dreaded the interview upon his 
 own account. He felt that the love which he 
 had been fighting against was conquered. He 
 
From Different Standpoints. 355 
 
 knew now, out of his own experience, that the grace 
 of God is sufficient even for the retrieving of 
 such mistakes. He did not fear to meet her ; 
 she would always be to him as a dear sister ; but 
 he was not sure of her state of mind. She was 
 weak, and still confined to the house. But, 
 sooner or later, he knew that they must meet ; 
 and, while he believed there would not be the 
 slightest cause for it, he feared that if they were 
 to keep up the old habits of intimacy Eleanor's 
 hatred and jealousy would again be aroused, and 
 it would seem very awkward not to meet on 
 friendly terms, the two families had so long been 
 united in close intimacy. It would be hard to 
 leave his people, for he had grown to think of 
 the interests of the village people as his own. 
 But that might be managed; the school, the 
 lunch-rooms and other enterprises had become so 
 well established that they might be left to the 
 care of some one else. 
 
 " Duties never conflict," he said, " and it seems 
 to be my evident duty to try to make my wife 
 happy." 
 
 And with this conclusion he planned an exten- 
 sive summer tour, which he laid before his wife 
 the next morning. She listened until he ended 
 by saying : 
 
 " Now, Eleanor, if we carry out this pro- 
 gramme, either as a whole or with modifications,, 
 you will want a few days in the city soon." 
 
356 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 She replied by asking : 
 
 " Perry, is it on my account that you have 
 planned tliis ? " 
 
 Always truthful, Perry answered : 
 
 " I certainly had my wife's pleasure in view, 
 though I expect to enjoy the trip myself." 
 
 " But you would not go except for me," she 
 persisted. 
 
 " I should not go except with you," he replied, 
 laughing. 
 
 " That is dodging the question. But I think I 
 understand you. Perry Harrison," she said, laugh- 
 ing, too. Then, soberly : " Don't think I would 
 drag you away on such a chase as this. We 
 will stay at home tliis summer, except for a few 
 weeks, perhaps, if we can make up a pleasant 
 party for the mountains. I know you will gain 
 strength faster than you wiU if you go on this 
 journey. And, besides, how can you leave your 
 work here ? " 
 
 "I thought you would like it," Perry said. 
 He was too much surprised to say much, and a 
 little grieved that the scheme which he had at the 
 expense of his own inclination laid before her 
 should not meet with her favor, for he could not 
 yet realize that she was making a sacrifice for 
 him. 
 
 " I would like it," she replied, " only I — well, 
 •Perry, need we decide at once ? " 
 
From Different Standpoints. 857 
 
 " Certainly not ; take your time." 
 
 And Perry, looking into tke face that met Ms 
 gaze so frankly, thought how very fair was this 
 woman, whose life was linked with his own, and 
 there rose before him a vision of what their life 
 might yet become. It seems strange, sometimes, 
 how opportunities come to us when we really 
 seek them. 
 
 That afternoon, as ■ they were at tea, a note 
 was left for Perry, which seemed to disturb him. 
 
 " Is it anything serious. Perry, asked Eleanor. 
 " You look troubled." 
 
 "Not very; only Miss Wilbur says she will 
 not be able to meet her class this evening at the 
 hall, and I don't quite know where to look for a 
 substitute." 
 
 There were a few moments' silence, then Elea- 
 nor spoke. In those few moments there had 
 been a fierce conflict going on in her heart. All 
 the instincts of her nature revolted at the thought 
 of coming in contact with the class of people 
 whom she fancied were accustomed to meet in 
 that hall. And then she had so opposed the 
 whole scheme. Her pride whispered to her not 
 to follow out her impulse — that it would be too 
 humiliating. But her new resolves thus put to 
 the test triumphed, and she said, hesitatingly : 
 
 " Perry, could I do it ? " 
 
 The stupid man look puzzled, and said : 
 
358 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 "Do what, Eleanor?" 
 
 " Why, teach that class." 
 
 " Why, would you? " 
 
 " If I could. If you think I ■would do for once. 
 I thought it would save you trouble, perhaps." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 That was all he said, but the look and tone 
 made it mean much. Still Perry was puzzled. 
 
 Would these two ever understand each other ? 
 
28. 
 
 EXTEACT FEOM EUNICE'S JOURNAL. 
 
 May 4, 18 — . How the days go by ! Actually 
 it is a year to-day since that spring morning 
 when Tom Haddington came up from New York 
 all unexpectedly, because he had been here so 
 short a time before, and — well, what a fool I 
 was ! During all tliis year I haven't written in 
 my Journal ; I have been too busy and too set- 
 tled. I don't believe people write in jour- 
 nals unless they are unsettled and unhappy. 
 I'm not sure I believe in journals ; at least I 
 don't believe in mine. I never read a sillier, and, 
 ' in some respects, a wickeder book ! I mean to 
 burn mine, or lock it up in the largest and deep- 
 est trunk I can get to put in my new garret. 
 The garret is immense, Tom says. I have been 
 running through it this evening — the Journal, 
 not the garret — trying to determine whether 
 there is any record in it that I want to keep ; if 
 there is anything my descendants might like to 
 read. If there isn't, what was the use of my 
 
 359 
 
360 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 writing it ? Now, possibly, there wUl be people 
 living a hundred years hence who might enjoy 
 reading it, simply because my hand wrote it. 
 But the question is. Would I enjoy having 
 them ? There are some tender words about that 
 dear saint. Mother Harrison. Those might be 
 helpful to young Christian lives. There are 
 some strong words of my dear father's, that 
 might be helpful to anybody. But the mass of 
 it is rubbish ; my cheeks burn with shame while 
 I read it ! Such unutterable stuff about Perry 
 Harrison ! A good deal of it before he was mar- 
 ried, and some, infinitely worse, afterward ! 
 Could I bear to have any young, pure-hearted 
 girl — my grandchild, say, or Perry's great-grand- 
 son — ^read that terrible revelation of folly and 
 sin ? And yet, wouldn't my mistakes be helpful 
 to them, possibly? Don't people often see 
 things with blinded eyes, when, if they would 
 look at another life that has been lived, and see 
 the same lines of trouble made smooth, and' 
 crookedness made straight, by the infinite love 
 and the infinite patience of a Friend who never 
 makes mistakes, and never changes, and never 
 dies, wouldn't it be helpful ? At least I shall 
 not burn my Journal to-night. But it doesn't 
 seem to me that I can let Tom see it, ever. It is 
 too silly, where it is not too wicked. 
 
 The idea of my ever fancying that I ought to 
 
From Different Standpoints. 361 
 
 have married Perry Harrison, especially after lie 
 was married ! I seem for a time to have ignored 
 that important fact. But, even before that, how 
 I could have fancied such a thing seems incredi- 
 ble to me. Perry is a dear, good friend ; a bet- 
 ter brother it wouldn't be possible to have. Tom 
 says he is the grandest Christian man, in some 
 respects, that he ever knew. But — ^well, he 
 isn't in the least like Tom, and I know that Tom 
 Haddington is the only man on earth whom it 
 would be possible for me to marry. 
 
 How glad I am that Perry has never known 
 the folly imd the sin of which I have been guilty ! 
 Being true and brave and strong-hearted him- 
 self, it has never occurred to him that I could be 
 otherwise. He need never be humiliated by 
 knowing it. Yet I am glad that Tom knows all 
 about it, and equally glad that I did not have to 
 tell him. He says he thinks he has known all 
 about me that could be told by human being, 
 and a great deal that couldn't be told. Ever since 
 he first knew me, and all the .time that I was 
 being a blind simpleton, he was grand and pa- 
 tient. I thank God for such a friend. How 
 wonderfully have I been led ! What a horrible 
 mesh of tangles would I have made of the web 
 of life could I but have had the weaving it! 
 And yet there was a time when I deemed myself 
 wise enough to have planned it all, and dona 
 
362 I'rom Different Standpoints. 
 
 mucli better -worli: than was done for me. Well, 
 the infinite patience of God is beyond conception 
 to one who has not tried it to the utmost, as 
 surely I have done. 
 
 Do you know, Journal, you are to bid good- 
 by to Eunice Taylor this very night? Surely 
 you must have had enough of me ; at least / 
 have. To-morrow before this time I will be Eu- 
 nice Haddington ! That is a remarkably pretty 
 name. Eleanor has pleased herself by writing it 
 in a delicate running hand on some of my hand- 
 kerchiefs. Eleanor has done everything for me. 
 "Who could have supposed that the day would 
 come when I should be proud to own her for a 
 sister ? There is change for you ! Not all in 
 myself, either. Who would recognize in her the 
 Eleanor Harrison who came a bride to the old 
 homestead ? How fast the Lord can work when 
 he takes a soul in hand to transform it to suit 
 his pattern ! Eleanor is an intense anything. 
 So of course her intensity shows in the new life 
 as it did in the old. 
 
 There is Tom ; I hear his step in the hall ; he 
 is coming to see about trunks, and really they 
 are not half packed. Good-night, old friend, and 
 good-by. I don't believe I shall ever feel like 
 looking at you again. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 363 
 
 EXTEACT PEOM PEEEY'S JOTTENAL. 
 
 May 4, 18 — . God bless my sister Una. How- 
 beautiful is the life tbat is opening before her ! 
 What an idiot I was not to see long before how 
 the tide was drifting ! The Lord knew. If, as 
 a Christian, I am more thanlrful for one blessing 
 than another, nest to the gift of a Redeemer, it 
 is the guiding, over-ruling hand of God that fills 
 me with joy. There is no tried, tempted soul, 
 however fierce the waves of temptation or pain 
 may roll over him, but may, if he will, rest quietly 
 covered by the shielding hand. " God is faith- 
 ful, who will not suffer one to be tempted above 
 what he is able to bear ; but wUl with the temp- 
 tion also make a way to escape, that we may be 
 able to bear it." That is true, true. Let me 
 set my seal to the absolute certainty of help from 
 the blessed Lord, in all our needs and sorrows 
 and terrors. He more than keeps his promise ; 
 he gives more than simply grace to endure ; he 
 sets one on the heights of peace. 
 
 Let me record my gratitude here for the way 
 in which I ha.ve been led. Looking back I can 
 see that the way was a wise one ; that his tender 
 mercies were all around me ; that he had in view 
 my present as well as my future in the way in 
 which I have been led. I feel very grateful for 
 the help this Journal has been to me. I shall 
 
364 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 keep it for a future help. Looking oyer it hum- 
 bles and subdues me, and at the same time helps 
 and rests. There are records of defeat, it is true, 
 but, blessed be his name, there are also records 
 of victories. There are pages that I will need, 
 some day, to paste together, in order that by no 
 mistake shaU. human eye behold them ; and there 
 are pages that might possibly help some strug- 
 gling soul, at least the mute companionship and 
 enduring patience of the book has helped me, 
 and I shall keep it ag a friend. 
 
 Eleanor and I are going over this evening to 
 say good-bye to Una Taylor. She will be Mrs. 
 Tom Haddington to-morrow. I record with 
 gratitude the fact that I can say, with clear voice 
 and sincere heart, thank God for that ! They 
 are suited to each other. I think, aside from 
 their two selves, no one sees this more plainly 
 than Eleanor does. What gracious things the 
 Lord can do for a soul when he abides within ! 
 My Eleanor grows ; underneath her are the Ever- 
 lasting Arms. There are things that she thinks 
 I do not know ; I mean she shall continue to 
 think so ; it is best that she should, for the pres- 
 ent, at least. One of these days, when we have 
 both gotten so near to heaven as to be able to 
 smile together over past human follies, we will 
 talk it over, perhaps, and make all tilings plain to 
 each other. Indeed, it may not be until we both 
 
From Different Standpoints. 865 
 
 have entered heaven, and then I do not know 
 but it may all have sunken so utterly into noth- 
 ingness as to be not worth talking of, for then 
 we shall realize that nothing but love remains. 
 Love for Christ first, and next the love that he 
 sanctions and blesses, and no other. 
 
 One other thanksgiving let me record, before 
 we say good-by to Una. My Saviour, my 
 Helper, my Healer, I thank thee that thou didst 
 give me Eleanor Haddington for my wife, and 
 didst teach me to cleave unto her until death do 
 part us, and didst give me the hope and confi- 
 dence that death itself can not part us ; that the 
 bond between us need never be broken. May 
 we, as we each day draw sensibly nearer to each 
 other, be drawn nearer to thee, until ourselves 
 shall be utterly lost in thee. Amen. 
 
 It is the experience of human beings generally 
 that they so promptly become accustomed to a 
 new order of things as to forget in a few weeks 
 that any other condition of affairs ever existed. 
 At least if they do not forget they cease to com- 
 ment — even to think of it — except at rare inter- 
 vals, when some special occasion forces the con- 
 trast on their attention. 
 
 At the Harrison homestead the year of peace 
 that had followed the sadly tossed and disap- 
 pointing life which had been lived there, had so 
 
366 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 calmed the inmates that, as I say, except on spec- 
 ial occasions they had already ceased to think of 
 that other and trying time. There had been sev- 
 eral weeks of bewilderment to Perry, when, in 
 the stupidity of his heart, he struggled to plan 
 new things and new scenes for his wife, and she 
 gently refused to be planned for ; and at last, 
 bent on discovering what it was she wanted, and 
 how they could better their life, he prisoned her 
 in his study one evening and tenderly, patiently, 
 persistently questioned, until in a burst of tears 
 his haughty Eleanor had melted before him, and 
 told the story of her new hopes and plans and 
 aims, and begged his help and his patience. And 
 he, looking down upon her in amazed bewilder- 
 ment for a few moments, had suddenly exclaimed, 
 with a ring to his voice, and an intensity of feel- 
 ing that she had not expected : 
 
 " Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is 
 within me bless his holy name ! ' 
 
 Since which time that tune, in some of its 
 changes, had rung in his heart. And yet they 
 rapidly, after the manner of mortals, settled into 
 the new order of things. It was amazing, when 
 one looked back, to see how soon it became the 
 most natural and matter-of-course thing in the 
 world for Mr. and IMrs. Harrison to go together 
 to the evening school, to arrange together some 
 new plans for the reading-room, to call together 
 
From Different Standpoints. 367 
 
 on certain ones about whom Perry had been 
 anxious. Nay, according to her eager, restless, 
 nature, she went ahead of him ; she brought all 
 her fascinations to bear on the factory boj's and 
 girls. It became an ordinary occurrence to 
 Perry to come with a perplexed face and say : 
 
 " Eleanor, what shall we do with Maynie Phil- 
 lips ? I am worried about her." Or, " Eleanor, 
 WiU Bates is in trouble. I don't quite under- 
 stand the circumstances. Can we get at them, 
 do you think?" 
 
 And then would follow a consultation, during 
 which Perry's brow would clear, and his voice 
 woiild have a relieved ring as he said : 
 
 " That's a capital idea ! Oh, Eleanor, what a 
 helper you are ! " 
 
 It took, too, but a short time to become accus- 
 tomed to the fact that a remarkable change had 
 come to the feelings with which his wife and 
 Una viewed each other. During Una's remain- 
 ing days of invalidism Eleanor was daily at the 
 little house across the way, and on the first even- 
 ing when she asked Perry to accompany her, and 
 he saw Una for the first time since her illness, he 
 felt the change that had come to both. Since 
 that time the old habits of running back and 
 forth from the Taylor house to the Harrison 
 house had been resumed; only in these days it 
 was Una who consulted Eleanor, or Eleanor who 
 
368 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 consulted Una. The long and frequent constil< 
 tations that had been the habit of years between 
 Una and himself were over. The habit had been 
 broken in upon by illness, and was never re- 
 sumed. It was very rarely indeed that he saw 
 her alone now. It was not that either shunned 
 the other, but that both were so fuU of their 
 plans and their work ; and their work began to 
 lie so much apart, that the need for consultation 
 seemed to be gone. Una did not go into the 
 school again; the village people thought she 
 was not well enough, and Eleanor had taken 
 her class. But Una knew that it was not worth 
 while to resume a routine which must so soon be 
 broken in upon. 
 
 They stood on the steps one day, chattering, 
 Una and Eleanor and Perry. Una had her hat 
 in her hand, and was just going. 
 
 " Oh, Una," Eleanor said, " wait a minute, 
 please. I want to get that list I made out for 
 you. The directions where to find the places 
 are all written out. You can't mistake. I've 
 given you ever so many errands to do, but I 
 couldn't help it." 
 
 " She is going into town to-morrow, "^^e ex- 
 plained, in answer to her husband's inquiring 
 look, " and I want some things for the class. I 
 can't go myself, because those two guis of yours 
 are coming this afternoon to learn leaf stitch." 
 
From Different iStandpoints. 369 
 
 Then she vanished. 
 
 " Una, do you remember that I once told you 
 that you two could be great helps to each other ? " 
 Perry asked, as they Waited. 
 
 " And I was skeptical," answered Una, smil- 
 ing. " I was a simpleton in those days, and El- 
 eanor was not what she is now. We are both 
 changed, and life ha.^ changed." 
 
 " I know," answered Perry, gravely. Then, 
 smiling : " Besides, Eleanor tells me she asked 
 you to be her sister, and I judge that you con- 
 sented to it." 
 
 A vivid blush overspread Una's face, and she 
 looked down in utter confusion. 
 
 " I did not mean," continued the wicked Perry, 
 that you depended solely on her asking. I as- 
 sure you I think you have ample reason to consider 
 yourself heartily invited to the relationship." 
 Then his tone changed again. " God bless you, 
 my sister ! I thank God for you. I am glad 
 that you are to be, more truly than ever, my sis- 
 ter. And I thank God that Tom Haddington is 
 my brother." 
 
 There was peculiar emphasis thrown into that 
 last sentence, as if he desired to call her attention 
 to the event that had made Tom Haddington his 
 brother, and then he instantly spoke of some- 
 tliing else. It was all the talk that these two, 
 who recognized that they had been fools, and 
 
370 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 had had been saved from shipwreck by unseen 
 hands, allowed themselves to have about their 
 past. 
 
 Neither did Una and Eleanor refer often to 
 that passage in their history when they had come 
 so near to each other as to lay bare their hearts 
 for each other's gaze. They were neither of 
 them women to whom this was an easy task, and 
 such do not frequently tear open old wounds. 
 Once Eleanor referred to it. It was the even- 
 ing before the wedding, and they were together 
 in Una's room, giving last touches to the prepa- 
 rations. A little silence had fallen between 
 them, broken at last by Eleanor's question : 
 
 " Una, did Tom tell you about Mr. Romaine ? " 
 
 " Yes," Una answered, and then hesitated, as 
 one who did not know what next to say. Pres- 
 ently she added : " It did not surprise me ; I 
 wonder that he has not gone before. I think he 
 is just fitted for mission work, only one would 
 have thought that he would have found enough 
 to do in this country." 
 
 To this Eleanor made no answer. She was 
 evidently not in a mood to discuss the respective 
 claims of home and foreign missions. At last 
 she said : 
 
 " I am not sure, Una, that I can make clear to 
 you what this is to me. You remember what I 
 told you once, and how you answered me ? Well, 
 
From Different Standpoints. 871 
 
 your words were true ; there is help with God ; 
 his mercy and his forgiveness and his patience 
 are infinite. I have tried them all ; sometimes it 
 seems to me I tried them to their utmost limit. 
 He has given me not only pardon, but peace and 
 rest. And yet, Una, there is a pain that it seems 
 to me even God can not take away. I have 
 wrecked a human life — I mean so far as earthly 
 happiness is concerned. Isn't it strange ? While 
 I have found a friend, who is every hour of my 
 life dearer to me, I, who alone am to blame, have 
 been received into the fulness of earthly happi- 
 ness ; and he, who was the victim only, not in 
 any sense the sinner, is the sufferer ? " 
 
 " Are you sure ? " asked Una, turning toward 
 her with tender, pitying eyes. " Can there be 
 any real suffering where a soul is so entirely at 
 peace with God as his is, and where one is so 
 utterly given iip to God's work as he is ? I sus- 
 pect he has a higher happiness than you or I 
 know anything about. And you, who are bear- 
 ing the sting of remorse, are the punished one, 
 after aU." 
 
 " That is true," said Eleanor, " But, Una, I 
 tell you that even remorse, heavy though it is 
 sometimes, can not shut me out from the thought 
 that I have my husband, and that he is to me 
 what, in my selfishness and fierceness, I did not 
 suppose he could ever be. Why should such 
 happiness have been eiven to me? " 
 
3.72 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 " It is the seal of the royal way in which the 
 King forgives," Una answered, her face shining 
 with joy. " When you come to speak of one's 
 deserts, Eleanor, you get on very low ground. 
 You make me think of what I have been, and 
 what the forgiving God has given me ? " 
 
 " Yes," Eleanor said, thoughtfully. " It is all 
 of grace. But, Una, there is a very solemn side 
 to it. Even God can not take away the results 
 that follow from our sins — can not always do it, 
 I mean. The scars remain. I shall always have 
 to think of a scarred life that I have made." 
 
 " And yet, my dear sister, you are bound also 
 to remember that his Leader is bound in honor 
 to make even the scars into good for Him." 
 
 " Thank you," Eleanor said. 
 
 And, though there were tears in her eyes, she 
 smiled. There were thoughts in her heart that 
 she left unsaid. She could not bring herself to say 
 to this almost bride that there lay at times a heavy 
 fear upon her that she had lost her husband's 
 love. He was tenderness itself, and yet could he 
 forget or forgive or absolutely trust her ? And 
 Una, looking at the tearful yet shining eyes, felt 
 sad for her — felt almost certain that the new life 
 had opened too late for her to hold her husband's 
 love. And yet felt that not for the world would' 
 she have hinted such a tiling to the struggling, 
 repentant woman. 
 
From Different Standpoints. 373 
 
 So even yet these people did not by any means 
 understand each other, and looked at their lives 
 from their different standpoints, and thought 
 their thoughts and believed that every side was 
 plain to them, and that only the others were in 
 mist. How well it was for them each that their, 
 lives lay in hands that understood and saw with 
 clear vision to the end, or to the eternities, for to 
 lives there is no end. Sometimes the All-seeing 
 Eye and the ever-tender Heart puts it into hu- 
 man hearts to speak the right words at the right 
 time. 
 
 It was the morning of the wedding. Indeed, 
 the wedding had been ; the solemn words spoken 
 so many times had sounded again, and Una Tay- 
 lor, who had told her Journal so solemnly long 
 before that certain joys were not for her, had de- 
 parted with a face in which shone the fulness of 
 human joy and rest. Those left behind were be- 
 ginning to feel that reaction which is sure to fol- 
 low an excitement of any sort, and perhaps spec- 
 ially the excitement of a wedding. 
 
 Eleanor Harrison went about the little parlor 
 at the Taylors', leaving little touches here and 
 there, that lessened the confusion and the dreari- 
 ness; doing those things that the nearest 'friend 
 stops to do when a daughter of the house has 
 gone out from it^ There was a sort of half sad, 
 half wistful expression on her face, when her eye 
 
374 From Different Standpoints. 
 
 souglit her husband's, which moved him strangely, 
 and which led him hj an impulse, the source of 
 which he did not understand, to bend toward her 
 a moment when they were alone at the farther 
 end of the room, and say : 
 
 " Do you want me to quote a sentence that I 
 wrote in my Diary last evening? " 
 
 " Yes," she said, smiling. " That is if it was 
 a good sentence, one that will help right the be- 
 wilderment of things." 
 
 " I don't know as to that, but I wrote this sen- 
 tence from a full heart : ' I thank God that Elea- 
 nor Haddington is my wife.' " 
 
 He had a flash, then, from Eleanor Harrison's 
 eyes such as he had never seen before. 
 
 " It helps," she said, simply, but the tone and 
 the look that accompanied them made his heart 
 beat, and each of these two foolish ones felt that 
 their true bridal had just commenced. 
 
 "Well, lives do not stop being lived, un- 
 less death comes in and snaps the thread. And 
 these lives are being lived, all of them, to-day. 
 All this happened not long ago, and yet many 
 things have happened since that might be told. 
 But stories have to stop ; they can not wind up, 
 for there are the lives going on, sometliing being 
 said and done every day, every hour, that one 
 would like to chronicle. And yet one musn't. 
 Who would read a story that went on, and on, 
 
From Different Standpoints. 375 
 
 just like- a life ? It is as much as people can do 
 to live their lives. So as there is no place in 
 which to round and smooth this story into fin- 
 ishing, it must just stop. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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THE CHAUTAUQUA GIRLS AT HOME.— 
 
 By Pansy. Author of "Four Girls at Chautauqua,," &c. 
 Boston: D. Lotheop & Co. Price, $1.50. 
 
 The four brilliant young ladies, three from the highest 
 social ranks, and one a teacher with infidel tendencies, who, 
 having abandoned Newport and Saratoga for Chautauqua 
 Lake and its Sunday-school Assembly, were there converted, 
 and, having returned to their city homes, with their simple 
 faith and joyous experience, they enter the First Church, 
 seeking Christian help and a field for usefulness. Hesi- 
 tatingly they enter the Sunday-school. Their presence there 
 is almost resented by pastor and superintendent, who knew 
 of their former Uves of social vaporing, but did not know of 
 their conversion. The rebuff does not wholly dishearten 
 the young ladies. They go to the social meetings, where 
 their persistent attendance brings about an explanation. 
 They confess Christ, are received into the Church, enter 
 into its work with zeal, and by their efforts and influence 
 remodel the Sunday-school, stir up the social meetings, and 
 help to bring about a great revival. 
 
 These young ladies in their developing lives represent four 
 classes of Christians, with which every pastor has to deal, 
 and from studying these models pastors can learn helpful 
 lessons, for they are here depicte'd with a masterly skill. 
 The First Church is a representative dead Church. The de- 
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WIDE AWAKE NOTICES. 
 
 Wide Awake. It is, as usual, handsomely illustrated. 
 A. charming magazine for tlie young. One of the best Bos- 
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 Every number commends it more and more to public pat- 
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 of the period. — T/ie Farmer's Cabinet. 
 
 That charming new magazine for girls and boys, the Wioa 
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 , , like the Wide Awake. — The Green Bay Advocate. 
 
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 hit the young taste exactly in their judicious arrangements 
 for issuing this serial. — The Commonwealth. 
 
 The Wide Awake, the new illustrated magazine for 
 young people, published by D. Lothrop & Co., Boston, is the 
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Wn)E AWAKE NOTICES. 
 
 During tlie next year the readers are promised an entertain- 
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 amount of reading received for their money. — Tlie Evan- 
 gelist. 
 
 The Wide Awake has entered on its second year with 
 ever-brightening prospects. Its success has proved our 
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 like real life — of boys and girls like themselves — than about 
 fairies and prodigies such as never had an existence on this 
 earth. The list of contributors to the Wide Awake num- 
 bers many names among authors best loved by childi-en, and 
 the contents of each number evidence in editor and writers 
 a just estimate of the wants of young readers, and remark- 
 able skill in catering to them. — The Literary World. 
 
 Wide Awake was a good name for it, and the children 
 love it. All the other publications for children are too old. 
 Now while Wide Awake is pleasing in the highest degree 
 to the four-year-old, it is read with just as much interest by 
 the eight-year-old, and grandma insists that no other book 
 was ever made like it, and grandma knows what she ia say< 
 Ing. — The Journal.