<.A' (iX}^.AND-R)R:GlRI...S 
 
 
PR ASSENTED TO 
 
 FOR 
 
 AT SCHOOL DURING THE YEAR ENDED 
 MIDSUIVIIVIER I&96. 
 
 ^A^^^;/^ ^ Chairman. 
 
 Jyydui.-,J^ Clerl^ fotf^e Board 
 
TRANG.-L:BR£D TO 
 JUVENILE HISTORICAL COidU 
 
SEP. 0318«t 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 ENDOWED BY THE 
 DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC 
 
 SOCIETIES LIBRARY 
 SCHOOL 
 
 J 
 Alcott 
 
 oemCO 
 
" Alice, with both elbows on the table, listened with 
 wide-awake eyes." 
 
Garland for Girls. 
 
 BY 
 
 LOUISA M. ALCOTT, 
 
 Author of "Little Women;" "Little Men;" "Jo's Boys;"S:c. &c. 
 
 
 COPYRIGHT ED 
 
 con • 
 
 TRANSFERRED TO 
 ITION. JUVe^lLE HISTORICAL COLl 
 
 f>W'i^'S^ 
 
 LONDON 
 
 BLACKIE & SON, Limited, 50 OLD BAILEY, E.G. 
 
 GLASGOW AND DUBLIN 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ' I ^HESE stories were written for my own amuse- 
 -*- ment during a period of enforced seclusion. 
 The flowers which were my solace and pleasure 
 suggested titles for the tales and gave an interest 
 to the work. 
 
 If my girls find a little beauty or sunshine in 
 these common blossoms, their old friend will not 
 have made her Garland in vain. 
 
 L. M. ALCOTT. 
 
. Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hil 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/garlandforgirlsalco 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 May Flowers, . ^^""^ 
 
 An Ivy Spray and Ladies' Slippers, ... 43 
 
 Pansies, 
 
 71 
 
 Water Lilies, „^ 
 
 Poppies and Wheat, 132 
 
 Little Button- Rose, 17. 
 
 Mountain-Laurel and Maidenhair, . 
 
 221 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PACJE 
 
 "Alice, with both elbows on the table, listened 
 
 WITH WIDE-AWAKE EYES," Frontispiece. 
 
 "The poor little thing came and stood at my 
 
 KNEE," 24 
 
 "She gayly led her troop through the pretty 
 dance," Co 
 
 "A TALL, ROBUST GIRL OF SEVENTEEN CAME UP THE 
 ROCKY PATH FROM THE BEACH; A STURDY LAD OF 
 TWELVE CAME LURCHING AFTER HER," .... 96 
 
 "And SITTING SIDE BY SIDE IN AN AFFECTIONATE 
 
 BUNCH, THE GIRLS READ THE HAPPY NEWS," . . 170 
 
 "Poor Button fell asleep," 211 
 
 "She wrote it herself!" 238 
 
A GAELAND FOE GIELS. 
 
 q 
 
 MAY FLOWERS. 
 
 Being Boston girls, of course they got up a club for 
 mental improvement, and, as they were all descendants 
 of the Pilgrim Fathers, they called it the May Flower 
 Club. A very good name, and the six young girls who 
 were members of it made a very pretty posy when 
 they met together, once a week, to sew, and read well- 
 chosen books. At the first meeting of the season, 
 after being separated all summer, there was a good deal 
 of gossip to be attended to before the question, " What 
 shall we read 1 " came up for serious discussion. 
 
 Anna Winslow, as president, began by proposing 
 " Happy Dodd ; " but a chorus of " I 've read it ! " 
 made her turn to her list for another title. 
 
 " 'Prisoners of Poverty' is all about workingwomen, 
 very true and very sad ; but Mamma said it might do 
 us good to know something of the hard times other girla 
 have," said Anna, soberly; for she was a thoughtful 
 creature, very anxious to do her duty in all ways. 
 
 " I 'd rather not know about sad things, since I can't 
 help to make them any better," answered Ella Carver, 
 
 A (446) 1 
 
2 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 softly patting the apple blossoms she was embroidering 
 on a bit of blue satin. 
 
 " But we might help if we really tried, I suppose ; 
 you know how much Happy Dodd did when she once 
 began, and she was only a poor little girl without half 
 the means of doing good which we have," said Anna, 
 glad to discuss the matter, for she had a little plan 
 in her head and wanted to prepare a way for propos- 
 ing it. 
 
 " Yes, I'm always saying that I have more than my 
 share of fun and comfort and pretty things, and that I 
 ought and will share them with some one. But I don't 
 do it ; and now and then, when I hear about real pov- 
 erty, or dreadful sickness, I feel so wicked it quite up- 
 sets me. If I knew how to begin, I really would. But 
 dirty little children don't come in my way, nor tipsy 
 women to be reformed, nor nice lame girls to sing and 
 pray with, as it all happens in books," cried Marion 
 Warren, with such a remorseful expression on her 
 merry round face that her mates laughed with one 
 accord. 
 
 "I know something that I could do if I only had 
 the courage to begin it. But Papa would shake his 
 head unbelievingly, and Mamma worry about its being 
 proper, and it would interfere with my music, and 
 everything nice that I especially wanted to go to would 
 be sure to come on whatever day I set for my good 
 work, and I should get discouraged or ashamed, and 
 not half do it, so I don't begin, but I know I ought." 
 And Elizabeth Alden rolled her large eyes from one 
 friend to another, as if appealing to them to goad her 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 3 
 
 to this duty by counsel and encouragement of some 
 sort. 
 
 " Well, I suppose it 's right, but I do perfectly hate 
 to go poking round among poor folks, smelling bad 
 smells, seeing dreadful sights, hearing woful tales, and 
 running the risk of catching fever, and diphtheria, and 
 horrid tilings. I don't pretend to like charity, but say 
 right out I 'm a silly, selfish wretch, and want to enjoy 
 every minute, and not worry about other people. Is n't 
 it shameful?" 
 
 Maggie Bradford looked such a sweet little sinner as 
 she boldly made this sad confession, that no one could 
 scold her, though Ida Standish, her bosom friend, shook 
 her head, and Anna said, with a sigh : " I 'm afraid we 
 all feel very much as Maggie does, though we don't 
 own it so honestly. Last spring, when I was ill and 
 thought I might die, I was so ashamed of my idle, friv- 
 olous winter, that I felt as if I 'd give all I had to be 
 able to live it over and do better. Much is not ex- 
 pected of a girl of eighteen, I know ; but oh ! there were 
 heaps of kind little things I might have done if I had n't 
 thought only of myself. I resolved if I lived I 'd try 
 at least to be less selfish, and make some one happier 
 for my being in the world. I tell you, girls, it 's rather 
 solemn when you lie expecting to die, and your sins 
 come up before you, even though they are very small 
 ones. I never shall forget it, and after my lovely 
 summer I mean to be a better girl, and lead a better 
 life if I can." 
 
 Anna was so much in earnest that her words, straight 
 out of a very mnocent and contrite heart, touched her 
 
4 A GAELAND FOR GIKLS. 
 
 hearers deeply, and put them into the right mood to 
 embrace her proposition. No one spoke for a moment, 
 then Maggie said quietly, — - 
 
 " I know what it is. I felt very much so when the 
 horses ran away, and for fifteen minutes I sat clinging 
 to Mamma, expecting to be killed. Every unkind, 
 undutiful word I 'd ever said to her came back to me, 
 and was worse to bear than the fear of sudden death. 
 It scared a great deal of naughtiness out of me, and 
 dear Mamma and I have been more to each other 
 ever since." 
 
 " Let us begin with ' The Prisoners of Poverty,' and 
 perhaps it will show us something to do," said Lizzie. 
 "But I must say I never felt as if shop-girls needed 
 much help; they generally seem so contented with 
 themselves, and so pert or patronizing to us, that 
 I don't pity them a bit, though it must be a hard 
 life." 
 
 " I think we can't do muck in that direction, except 
 set an example of good manners when we go shopping. 
 I wanted to propose that we each choose some small 
 charity for this winter, and do it faithfully. That will 
 teach us how to do more by-and-by, and we can help 
 one another with our experiences, perhaps, or amuse 
 with our failures. What do you sayl" asked Anna, 
 surveying her five friends with a persuasive smile. 
 
 "What coM^c^ we do?" 
 
 " People will call us goody-goody." 
 
 " I have n't the least idea how to go to work." 
 
 " Don't believe Mamma will let me." 
 
 " We 'd better change our names from May Flowers 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 5 
 
 to sisters of charity, and wear meek black bonnets and 
 flapping cloaks." 
 
 Anna received these replies with great composure, 
 and waited for the meeting to come to order, well 
 knowing that the girls would have their fun and outcry 
 first, and then set to work in good earnest. 
 
 " I think it 's a lovely idea, and I '11 carry out my 
 plan. But I won't tell what it is yet ; you 'd all shout, 
 and say I could n't do it, but if you were trying also, 
 that would keep me up to the mark," said Lizzie, with 
 a decided snap of her scissors, as she trimmed the edges 
 of a plush case for her beloved music. 
 
 " Suppose we all keep our attempts secret, and not 
 let our right hand know what the left hand does 1 
 It 's such fun to mystify people, and then no one can 
 laugh at us. If we fail, we can say nothing ; if we 
 succeed, we can tell of it and get our reward. I 'd like 
 that way, and will look round at once for some espe- 
 cially horrid boot-black, ungrateful old woman, or ugly 
 child, and devote myself to him, her, or it with the pa- 
 tience of a saint," cried Maggie, caught by the idea of 
 doing good in secret and being found out by accident. 
 
 The other girls agreed, after some discussion, and 
 then Anna took the floor again. 
 
 " I propose that we each work in our own way till 
 next May, then, at our last meeting, report what we 
 have done, truly and honestly, and plan something 
 better for next year. Is it a vote 1 " 
 
 It evidently was a unanimous vote, for five gold 
 thimbles went up, and five blooming faces smiled as 
 the five girlish voice-s cried, " Aye ! " 
 
6 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 " Very well, now let us decide what to read, and 
 begin at once. I think the ' Prisoners ' a good book, 
 and we shall doubtless get some hints from it." 
 
 So they began, and for an hour one pleasant voice 
 after the other read aloud those sad, true stories of 
 workingwomen and their hard lives, showing these gay 
 young creatures what their pretty clothes cost the 
 real makers of them, and how much injustice, suffering, 
 and wasted strength went into them. It was very 
 sober reading, but most absorbing ; for the crochet 
 needles went slower and slower, the lace-work lay idle, 
 and a great tear shone like a drop of dew on the apple 
 blossoms as Ella listened to " Rose's Story." Tiiey 
 skipped the statistics, and dipped here and there as 
 each took her turn ; but when the two hours were over, 
 and it was time for the club to adjourn, all the mem- 
 bers were deeply interested in that pathetic book, and 
 more in earnest than before ; for this glimpse into other 
 lives showed them how much help was needed, and 
 made them anxious to lend a hand. 
 
 " We can't do much, being ' only girls,' " said Anna ; 
 " but if each does one small chore somewhere it will 
 pave the way for better work ; so we will all try, at 
 least, though it seems like so many ants trying to 
 move a mountain." 
 
 " Well, ants build nests higher than a man's head in 
 Africa ; you remember the picture of them in our old 
 geogi'aphies 1 And we can do as much, I'm sure, if 
 each tugs her pebble or straw faithfully. I shall shoul- 
 der mine to-morrow if Mamma is willing," answered 
 Lizzie, shutting up her work-bag as if she had her res- 
 
MAY FLOWERS. ' 
 
 olvition inside and was afraid it might evaporate before 
 she got home. 
 
 " I shall stand on the Common, and proclaim aloud, 
 ' Here 's a nice young missionary, in want of a job ! 
 Charity for sale cheap! Who'll buy? who'll buy]'" 
 said Maggie, with a resigned expression, and a sanc- 
 timonious twang to her voice. 
 
 " I shall wait and see what comes to me, since I 
 don't know what I 'm fit for ;" and Marion gazed out 
 of the window as if expecting to see some interesting 
 pauper waiting for her to appear. 
 
 " I shall ask Miss Bliss for advice ; she knows all 
 about the poor, and will give me a good start," added 
 prudent Ida, who resolved to do nothing rashly lest 
 she should fail. 
 
 " I shall probably have a class of dirty little girls, 
 and teach them how to sew, as I can't do anything else. 
 They won't learn much, but steal, and break, and mess, 
 and be a dreadful trial, and I shall get laughed at and 
 wish I had n't done it. Still I shall try it, and sacri- 
 fice my fancy-work to the cause of virtue," said Ella, 
 carefully putting away her satin glove-case with a fond 
 glance at the delicate flowers she so loved to embroider. 
 " I have no plans, but want to do so much I shall 
 have to wait till I discover what is best. After to-day 
 we won't speak of our work, or it won't be a secret any 
 longer. In May we will report. Good luck to all, 
 and good-by till next Saturday." 
 
 With these farewell words from their president the 
 girls departed, with great plans and new ideas simmer- 
 ing in their young heads and hearts. 
 
8 A OAKLAND FOE GIRLS. 
 
 It seemed a vast undertaking ; but where there is a 
 will there is always a way, and soon it was evident 
 that each had found " a little chore " to do for sweet 
 charity's sake. Not a word was said at the weekly 
 meetings, but the artless faces betrayed all shades of 
 hope, discouragement, pride, and doubt, as their various 
 attempts seemed likely to succeed or fail. Much curi- 
 osity was felt, and a few accidental words, hints, or 
 meetings in queer places, were very exciting, though 
 nothing was discovered. 
 
 Marion was often seen in a North End car, and 
 Lizzie in a South End car, with a bag of books and 
 papers. Ella haunted a certain shop where fancy arti- 
 cles were sold, and Ida always brought plain sewing 
 to the club. Maggie seemed very busy at home, and 
 Anna was found writing industriously several times 
 when one of her friends called. All seemed very happy, 
 and rather important when outsiders questioned them 
 about their affairs. But they had their pleasures as 
 usual, and seemed to enjoy them with an added relish, 
 as if they realized as never before how many blessings 
 they possessed, and were grateful for them. 
 
 So the winter passed, and slowly something new and 
 pleasant seemed to come into the lives of these young 
 girls. The listless, discontented look some of them 
 used to wear passed away ; a sweet earnestness and 
 a cheerful activity made them charming, though they 
 did not know it, and wondered when people said, " That 
 set of girls are growing up beautifully ; they will make 
 fine women by and by." The mayflowers were bud- 
 ding under the isnow, and as spring came on the fresh 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 9 
 
 perfume began to steal out, the rosy faces to brighten, 
 and the last year's dead leaves to fall away, leaving 
 the young plants green and strong. 
 
 On the 15th of May the club met for the last time 
 that year, as some left town early, and all were full of 
 spring work and summer plans. Every member was 
 in her place at an unusually early hour that day, and 
 each wore an air of mingled anxiety, expectation, and 
 satisfaction, pleasant to behold. Anna called them to 
 order with three raps of her thimble and a beaming 
 smile. 
 
 " We need not choose a book for our reading to-day, 
 as each of us is to contribute an original history of her 
 winter's work. I know it will be very interesting, and 
 I hope more instructive, than some of the novels we 
 have read. Who shall begin 1 " 
 
 " You ! you ! " was the unanimous answer ; for all 
 loved and respected her very much, and felt that their 
 presiding officer should open the ball. 
 
 Anna colored modestly, but surprised her friends 
 by the composure with which she related her little 
 story, quite as if used to public speaking. 
 
 " You know I told you last November that I should 
 have to look about for something that I could do. I 
 did look a long time, and was rather in despair, when 
 my task came to me in the most unexpected way. Oar 
 winter work was being done, so I had a good deal of 
 shopping on my hands, and found it less a bore than 
 usual, because I liked to watch the shop girls, and 
 wish I dared ask some of them if I could help them. 
 I went often to get trimmings and buttons at Cotton's, 
 
10 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 and had a good deal to do with the two girls at that 
 counter. They were very obliging and patient about 
 matching some jet ornaments for Mamma, and I found 
 oi;t that their names were Mary and Maria Porter. I 
 liked them, for they were very neat and plain in their 
 dress, — not like some, who seem to think that if their 
 waists are small, and their hair dressed in the fashion, 
 it is no matter how soiled their collars are, nor how 
 untidy their nails. Well, one day when I went for 
 certain kinds of buttons which were to be made for us, 
 Maria, the younger one, who took the order, was not 
 there. I asked for her, and Mary said she was at 
 home with a lame knee. I was so sorry, and ventured 
 to put a few questions in a friendly way. Mary seemed 
 glad to tell her troubles, and I found that ' Ria,' as 
 she called her sister, had been suffering for a long 
 time, but did not complain for fear of losing her place. 
 No stools are allowed at Cotton's, so the poor girls 
 stand nearly all day, or rest a minute now and then 
 on a half-opened drawer. I 'd seen Maria doing it, and 
 wondered why some one did not make a stir about 
 seats in this place, as they have in other stores and 
 got stools for the shop women. I did n't dare to 
 speak to the gentlemen, but I gave Mary the Jack 
 roses I wore in my breast, and asked if I might take 
 some books or flowers to poor Maria. It was lovely 
 to see her sad face light up and hear her thank me 
 when I went to see her, for she was very lonely with- 
 out her sister, and discouraged about her place. She 
 did not lose it entirely, but had to work at home, for 
 her lame knee will be a long time in getting well. I 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 11 
 
 begged Mamma and Mrs. Allingham to speak to Mr. 
 Cotton for her ; so she got the mending of the jet and 
 bead work to do, and buttons to cover, and things of 
 that sort. Mary takes them to and fro, and Maria feels 
 so happy not to be idle. We also got stools for all the 
 other girls in that shop. Mrs. Allingham is so rich 
 and kind she can do anything, and now it 's such a 
 comfort to see those tired things resting when off duty 
 that I often go in and enjoy the sight." 
 
 Anna paused as cries of " Good ! good ! " interrupted 
 her tale ; but she did not add the prettiest part of it, 
 and tell how the faces of the young women behind the 
 counters brightened when she came in, nor how gladly 
 all served the young lady who showed them what a 
 true gentlewoman was. 
 
 " I hope that is n't all T' said Maggie, eagerly. 
 
 " Only a little more. I know you will laugh when 
 I tell you that I 've been reading papers to a class of 
 shop girls at the Union once a week all winter." 
 
 A murmur of awe and admiration greeted this deeply 
 interesting statement ; for, true to the traditions of the 
 modern Athens in which they lived, the girls all felt 
 the highest respect for " papers " on any subject, it 
 being the fashion for ladies, old and young, to read 
 and discuss every subject, from pottery to Pantheism, 
 at the various clubs all over the city. 
 
 " It came about very naturally," continued Anna, as 
 if anxious to explain her seeming audacity. " I used 
 to go to see Molly and Eia, and heard all about their 
 life and its few pleasures, and learned to like them 
 more and more. They had only each other in the 
 
12 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 world, lived in two rooms, worked all day, and in tho 
 way of amusement or instruction had only what they 
 found at the Union in the evening. I went with them 
 a few times, and saw how useful and pleasant it was, 
 and wanted to help, as other kind girls only a little 
 older than I did. Eva Eandal read a letter from a 
 friend in Kussia one time, and the girls enjoyed it very 
 much. That reminded me of my brother George's 
 lively journals, written when he was abroad. You 
 remember how we used to laugh over them when he 
 sent them home 1 "Well, when I was begged to give 
 them an evening, I resolved to try one of those amus- 
 ing journal-letters, and chose the best, — all about how 
 George and a friend went to the different places Dickens 
 describes in some of his funny books. I wish you could 
 have seen how those dear girls enjoyed it, and laughed 
 till they cried over the dismay of the boys, when they 
 knocked at a door in Kingsgate Street, and asked if 
 Mrs. Gamp lived there. It was actually a barber's 
 shop, and a little man, very like Poll Sweedlepipes, 
 told them ' Mrs. Britton was the nuss as lived there 
 now.' It upset those rascals to come so near the truth, 
 and they ran away because they could n't keep sober. 
 
 The members of the club indulged in a general 
 smile as they recalled the immortal Sairey with " the 
 bottle on the mankle-shelf," the " cowcumber," and the 
 wooden pippins. Then Anna continued, with an air 
 of calm satisfaction, quite sure now of her audience 
 and herself, — 
 
 "It was a great success. So I went on, and when the 
 journals were done, I used to read other things, and 
 
MAY FLO WEES. 13 
 
 picked up books for their library, and helped in any- 
 way I could, while learning to know them better and 
 give them confidence in me. They are proud and shy, 
 just as we should be, but if you really want to be friends 
 and don't mind rebuffs now and then, they come to 
 trust and like you, and there is so much to do for them 
 one never need sit idle any more. I won't give names, 
 as they don't like it, nor tell how I tried to serve them, 
 but it is very sweet and good for me to have found this 
 work, and to know that each year I can do it better 
 and better. So I feel encouraged, and am very glad 
 I began, as I hope you all are. Now, who comes 
 next % " 
 
 As Anna ended, the needles dropped and ten soft 
 hands gave her a hearty round of applause ; for all 
 felt that she had done well, and chosen a task espe- 
 cially fitted to her powers, as she had money, time, 
 tact, and the winning manners that make friends 
 everywhere. 
 
 Beaming with pleasure at their approval, but feeling 
 that they made too much of her small success, Anna 
 called the club to order by saying, " Ella looks as if 
 she were anxious to tell her experiences, so perhaps 
 we had better ask her to hold forth next." 
 
 " Hear ! hear ! " cried the girls ; and, nothing loath, 
 Ella promptly began, with twinkling eyes and a demure 
 smile, for her story ended romantically. 
 
 " If you are interested in shop girls. Miss President 
 and ladies, you will like to know that / am one, at 
 least a silent partner and co-worker in a small fancy 
 store at the West End." 
 
14 A GAELAND FOE GIRLS. 
 
 " No ! " exclaimed the amazed club with one voice ; 
 and, satisfied with this sensational beginning, Ella 
 went on. 
 
 " I really am, and you have bought some of my 
 fancy-work. Isn't that a good joke? You needn't 
 stare so, for I actually made that needle-book, Anna, and 
 my partner knit Lizzie's new cloud. This is the way 
 it all happened. I did n't wish to waste any time, but 
 one can't rush into the street and collar shabby little 
 girls, and say, ' Come along and learn to sew,' without 
 a struggle, so I thought I 'd go and ask Mrs. Brown 
 how to begin. Her branch of the Associated Charities 
 is in Laurel Street, not far from our house, you know ; 
 and the very day after our last meeting I posted off to 
 get my ' chore.' I expected to have to fit work for 
 poor needlewomen, or go to see some dreadful sick 
 creature, or wash dirty little Pats, and was bracing up 
 my mind for whatever might come, as I toiled up the 
 hill in a gale of wind. Suddenly my hat flew off and 
 went gayly skipping away, to the great delight of some 
 black imps, who only grinned and cheered me on as I 
 trotted after it with wild grabs and wrathful dodges. 
 I got it at last out of a puddle, and there I was in a 
 nice mess. The elastic was broken, feather wet, and 
 the poor thing all mud and dirt, I did n't care much, 
 as it was my old one, — dressed for my work, you see. 
 But I could n't go home bareheaded, and I did n't 
 know a soul in that neighborhood. I turned to step 
 into a grocery store at the corner, to borrow a brush 
 or buy a sheet of paper to wear, for I looked like a 
 lunatic with my battered hat and my hair in a perfect 
 
MAY FLOWEKS. 15 
 
 mop. Luckily I spied a woman's fancy shop on the 
 other corner, and rushed in there to hide myself, for 
 the brats hooted and people stared. It was a very 
 small shop, and behind the counter sat a tall, thin, 
 washed-out-looking woman, making a baby's hood. 
 She looked poor and blue and rather sour, but took 
 pity on me ; and while she sewed the cord, dried the 
 feather, and brushed off the dirt, I warmed myself 
 and looked about to see what I could buy in return for 
 her trouble. 
 
 " A few children's aprons hung in the little window, 
 with some knit lace, balls, and old-fashioned garters, 
 two or three dolls, and a very poor display of small 
 wares. In a show-case, however, on the table that 
 was the counter, I found some really pretty things, 
 made of plush, silk, and ribbon, with a good deal of 
 taste. So I said I 'd buy a needle -book, and a gay ball, 
 and a pair of distracting baby's shoes, made to look 
 like little open-work socks with pink ankle-ties, so 
 cunning and dainty, I was glad to get them for Cousin 
 Clara's baby. The woman seemed pleased, though she 
 had a grim way of talking, and never smiled once. I 
 observed that she handled my hat as if used to such 
 work, and evidently liked to do it. I thanked her for 
 repairing damages so quickly and well, and she said, 
 with my hat on her hand, as if she hated to part with 
 it, ' I 'm used to millinaryin' and never should have 
 give it up, if I did n't have my folks to see to. I took 
 this shop, hopin' to make things go, as such a place 
 was needed round here, but mother broke down, and 
 is a sight of care ; so I could n't leave her, and doctors 
 
16 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 is expensive, and times hard, and I had to drop my 
 trade, and fall back on pins and needles, and so on.' " 
 
 Ella was a capital mimic, and imitated the nasal 
 tones of the Vermont woman to the life, with a doleful 
 pucker of her own blooming face, which gave such a 
 truthful picture of poor Miss Almira Miller that those 
 who had seen her recognized it at once, and laughed 
 
 " Just as I was murmuring a few words of regret at 
 her bad luck," continued Ella, " a sharp voice called 
 out from a back room, * Almiry ! Almiry ! come here.' 
 It sounded very like a cross parrot, but it was the old 
 lady, and while I put on my hat I heard her asking 
 who was in the shop, and what we were ' gabbin' about.' 
 Her daughter told her, and the old soul demanded to 
 ' see the gal ;' so I went in, being ready for fun as usual. 
 It was a little, dark, dismal place, but as neat as a pin, 
 and in the bed sat a regular Grandma Smallweed smok- 
 ing a pipe, with a big cap, a snufF-box, and a red cotton 
 handkerchief She was a tiny, dried-up thing, brown 
 as a berry, with eyes like black beads, a nose and chin 
 that nearly met, and hands like birds' claws. But 
 such a fierce, lively, curious, blunt old lady you never 
 saw, and I did n't know what would be the end of me 
 when she began to question, then to scold, and finally 
 to demand that 'folks should come and trade to Almiry 's 
 shop after promisin' they would, and she havin' took 
 a lease of the place on account of them lies.' I wanted 
 to laugh, but dared not do it, so just let her croak, for 
 the daughter had to go to her customers. The old 
 lady's tirade informed me that they came from Ver- 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 17 
 
 moiit, had ' been wal on 't till father died and the farm 
 was sold.' Then it seems the women came to Boston 
 and got on pretty well till ' a stroke of numb-palsy,' 
 whatever that is, made the mother helpless and kept 
 Almiry at home to care for her. I can't tell you how 
 funny and yet how sad it was to see the poor old soul, so 
 full of energy and yet so helpless, and the daughter 
 so discouraged with her pathetic little shop and no cus- 
 tomers to speak of. I did not know what to say till 
 * Grammar Miller,' as the children call her, happened to 
 sa}^, when she took up her knitting after the lecture, 
 ' If folks who go spendin' money reckless on redic'lus 
 toys for Christmas only knew what nice things, use- 
 ful and fancy, me and Almiry could make ef we had 
 the goods, they'd jest come round this corner and buy 
 'em, and keep me out of a Old Woman's Home and 
 that good, hard-workin' gal of mine out of a 'sylum ; 
 for go there she will ef she don't get a boost somehow, 
 with rent and firin' and vittles all on her shoulders, 
 and me only able to wag them knittin'-needles.' 
 
 " ' I will buy things here, and tell all my friends about 
 it, and I have a drawer full of pretty bits of silk and 
 velvet and plush, that I will give Miss Miller for her 
 work, if she will let me.' I added that, for I saw 
 that Almiry was rather proud, and hid her troubles 
 under a grim look. 
 
 That pleased the old lady, and, lowering her voice, 
 she said, with a motherly sort of look in her beady 
 eyes : 'Seein' as you are so friendly, I '11 tell you what 
 frets me most, a layin' here, a burden to my darter. 
 She kep' company with Nathan Baxter, a master 
 
 (446) 2 
 
18 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 carpenter up to Westminster where we lived, and ef 
 father hadn't a died suddin' they'd a ben married. 
 They waited a number o' years, workin' to their trades, 
 and we was hopin' all would turn out wal, when 
 troubles come, and here we be. Nathan's got his 
 own folks to see to, and Almiry won't add to his load 
 with hern, nor leave me; so she give him back his 
 ring, and jest buckled to all alone. She don't say a 
 word, but it 's wearin' her to a shadder, and I can't do 
 a thing to help, but make a few pin-balls, knit garters, 
 and kiver holders. Ef she got a start in business it 
 would cheer her up a sight, and give her a kind of 
 a hopeful prospeck, for old folks can't live forever, 
 and Nathan is a waitin', faithful and true.' 
 
 " That just finished me, for I am romantic, and do 
 enjoy love stories with all my heart, even if the lovers 
 are only a skinny spinster and a master carpenter. So 
 I just resolved to see what I could do for poor Almiry 
 and the peppery old lady. I did n't promise anything 
 but my bits, and, taking the things I bought, went home 
 to talk it over with Mamma. I found she had often got 
 pins and tape, and such small wares, at the little shop, 
 and found it very convenient, though she knew nothing 
 about the Millers. She was willing I should help if I 
 could, but advised going slowly, and seeing what they 
 could do first. We did not dare to treat them like beg- 
 gars, and send them money and clothes, and tea and 
 sugar, as we do the Irish, for they were evidently re- 
 spectable people, and proud as poor. So I took my 
 bundle of odds and ends, and Mamma added some nice 
 large pieces of dresses we had done with, and gave a 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 19 
 
 fine order for aprons and holders and balls for our 
 church fair. 
 
 " It would have done your hearts good, girls, to see 
 those poor old faces light up as I showed my scraps, 
 and asked if the work would be ready by Christmas. 
 Grammer fairly swam in the gay colors I strewed over 
 her bed, and enjoyed them like a child, while Almiry 
 tried to be grim, but had to give it up, as she began 
 at once to cut out aprons, and dropped tears all over 
 the muslin when her back was turned to me. I did n't 
 know a washed-out old maid could be so pathetic." 
 
 Ella stopped to give a regretful sigh over her past 
 blindness, while her hearers made a sympathetic mur- 
 mur ; for young hearts are very tender, and take an 
 innocent interest in lovers' sorrows, no matter how 
 humble. 
 
 " Well, that was the beginning of it. I got so ab- 
 sorbed in making things go well that I did n't look any 
 further, but just 'buckled to' with Miss Miller and 
 helped run that little shop. No one knew me in that 
 street, so I slipped in and out, and did what I liked. 
 The old lady and I got to be great friends ; though she 
 often pecked and croaked like a cross raven, and was 
 very wearing. I kept her busy with her 'pin-balls and 
 knittin'-work,' and supplied Almiry with pretty mate- 
 rials for the various things I found she could make. 
 You would n't believe what dainty bows those long 
 fingers could tie, what ravishing doll's hats she would 
 make out of a scrap of silk and lace, or the ingenious 
 things she concocted with cones and shells and fans and 
 baskets. I love such work, and used to go and help 
 
20 A GARLAND FOE GIRLS. 
 
 her often, for I wanted her window and shop to be 
 full for Christmas, and lure in plenty of customers. 
 Our new toys, and the little cases of sewing silk sold 
 well, and people began to come more, after I lent 
 Almiry some money to lay in a stock of better goods. 
 Papa enjoyed my business venture immensely, and was 
 never tired of joking about it. He actually went and 
 bought balls for four small black boys who were gluing 
 their noses to the window one day, spellbound by the 
 orange, red, and blue treasures displayed there. He 
 liked my partner's looks, though he teased me by saying 
 that we 'd better add lemonade to our stock, as poor, 
 dear Almiry's acid face would make lemons unnecessary, 
 and sugar and water were cheap. 
 
 " Well, Christmas came, and we did a great busi- 
 ness, for Mamma came and sent others, and our fancy 
 things were as pretty and cheaper than those at the art 
 stores, so they went well, and the Millers were cheered 
 up, and I felt encouraged, and we took a fresh start 
 after the holidays. One of my gifts at New Year 
 was my own glove-case, — you remember the apple- 
 blossom thing I began last autumn ] I put it in our 
 window to fill up, and Mamma bought it, and gave it 
 to me full of elegant gloves, with a sweet note, and 
 Papa sent a check to 'Miller, "Warren, & Co.' I was 
 so pleased and proud I could hardly help telling you 
 all. But the best joke was the day you girls came in 
 and bought our goods, and I peeped at you through 
 the crack of the door, being in the back room dying 
 with laughter to see you look round, and praise our' 
 'nice assortment of useful and pretty articles.' " 
 
MAY FLOWEES. 21 
 
 " That 's all very well, and we can bear to be laughed 
 at if you succeeded, Miss. But I don't believe you did, 
 for no Millers are there now. Have you taken a pala- 
 tial store on Boylston Street for this year, intending to 
 run it alone 1 We '11 all patronize it, and your name 
 will look well on a sign," said Maggie, wondering what 
 the end of Ella's experience had been. 
 
 " Ah ! I still have the best of it, for my romance fin- 
 ished up delightfully, as you shall hear. We did well 
 all winter, and no wonder. What was needed was a little 
 'boost' in the right direction, and I could give it; so my 
 Millers were much comforted, and we were good friends. 
 But in March Grammer died suddenly, and poor Almiry 
 mourned as if she had been the sweetest mother in the 
 world. The old lady's last wishes were to be 'laid 
 out harnsome in a cap with a pale blue satin ribbin, 
 white was n't becomin', to hev at least three carriages 
 to the funeral, and be sure a paper with her death in 
 it was sent to N. Baxter, Westminster, Vermont.' 
 
 " I faithfully obeyed her commands, put on the ugly 
 cap myself, gave a party of old ladies from the Home 
 a drive in the hacks, and carefully directed a marked 
 paper to Nathan, hoping that he had pi'oved 'faithful 
 and true.' I didn't expect he would, so was not sur- 
 prised when no answer came. But I ivas rather amazed 
 when Almiry told me she did n't care to keep on with 
 the store now she was free. She wanted to visit her 
 friends a spell this spring, and in the fall w^ould go 
 back to her trade in some milliner's store. 
 
 " I was sorry, for I really enjoyed my partnership. 
 It seemed a little bit ungrateful after all my trouble 
 
22 A GAEL AND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 in getting her customers, but I did n't say anything, 
 and we sold out to the Widow Bates, who is a 
 good soul with sis children, and will profit by our 
 efforts. 
 
 " Almiry bid me good-by with all the grim look 
 gone out of her face, many thanks, and a hearty promise 
 to write soon. That was in April. A week ago I got 
 a short letter saying, — 
 
 " ' Deak Friend, — You will be pleased to hear that 
 I am married to Mr. Baxter, and shall remain here. He 
 was away when the paper came with mother's death, but as 
 soon as he got home he wrote. I could n't make up my 
 mind till I got home and see him. Now it 's all right, and 
 I am very happy. Many thanks for all you done for me 
 and mother. I shall never forget it. My husband sends 
 respects, and I remain 
 
 Yours gratefully, 
 
 Almira M. Baxter.' " 
 
 " That 's splendid ! You did well, and next winter 
 you can look up another sour spinster and cranky old 
 lady and make them happy," said Anna, with the 
 approving smile all loved to receive from her. 
 
 " My adventures are not a bit romantic, or even in- 
 teresting, and yet I've been as busy as a bee all winter, 
 and enjoyed my work very much," began Elizabeth, as 
 the President gave her a nod. 
 
 " The plan I had in mind was to go and carry books 
 and papers to the people in hospitals, as one of Mam- 
 ma's friends has done for years. I went once to the 
 City Hospital with her, and it was very interesting, but 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 23 
 
 I did n't dare to go to the grown people all alone, so I 
 went to the Children's Hospital, and soon loved to 
 help amuse the poor little dears. I saved all the pic- 
 ture-books and papers I could find for them, dressed 
 dolls, and mended toys, and got new ones, and made 
 bibs and night-gowns, and felt like the mother of a 
 large family. 
 
 " I had my pets, of course, and did my best for them, 
 reading and singing and amusing them, for many suf- 
 fered very much. One little girl was so dreadfully 
 burned she could not use her hands, and would lie and 
 look at a gay dolly tied to the bedpost by the hour 
 together, and talk to it and love it, and died with it on 
 her pillow when I ' sung lullaby ' to her for the last 
 time. I keep it among my treasures, for I learned a 
 lesson in patience from little Norah that I never can 
 forget. 
 
 " Then Jimmy Dolan with hip disease was a great 
 delight to me, for he was as gay as a lark in spite of 
 pain, and a real little hero in the way he bore the hard 
 things that had to be done to him. He never can get 
 well, and he is at home now ; but I still see to him, and 
 he is learning to make toy furniture very nicely, so 
 that by-and-by, if he gets able to work at all, he may 
 'be able to learn a cabinet-maker's trade, or some easy 
 work. 
 
 " But my pet of pets was Johnny, the blind boy. His 
 poor eyes had to be taken out, and there he was left so 
 helpless and pathetic, all his life before him, and no 
 one to help him, for his people were poor and he had 
 to go away from the hospital since he was incurable. 
 
24 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 He seemed almost given to me, for the first time I saw 
 him I was singing to Jimmy, when the door opened 
 and a small boy came fumbling in. 
 
 " ' I hear a pretty voice, I want to fi^nd it,' he 
 said, stopping as I stopped with both hands out as if 
 begging for more. 
 
 " ' Come on, Johnny, and the lady will sing to you 
 like a bobolink,' called Jimmy, as proud as Barnum 
 showing off Jumbo. 
 
 " The poor little thing came and stood at my knee, 
 without stirring, while I sang all the nursery jingles I 
 knew. Then he put such a thin little finger on my 
 lips as if to feel where the music came from, and said, 
 smiling all over his white face, 'More, please more, 
 lots of 'em ! I love it ! ' 
 
 " So I sang away till I was as hoarse as a crow, and 
 Johnny drank it all in like water ; kept time with his 
 head, stamped when I gave him ' Marching through 
 Georgia,' and hurrahed feebly in the chorus of ' Red, 
 White, and Blue.' It was lovely to see how he enjoyed 
 it, and I was so glad I had a voice to comfort those poor 
 babies with. He cried when I had to go, and so touched 
 my heart that I asked all about him, and resolved to 
 get him into the Blind School as the only place where 
 he could be taught and made happy." 
 
 " I thought you were bound there the day I met 
 you, Lizzie ; but you looked as solemn as if all your 
 friends had lost their sight," cried Marion. 
 
 " I did feel solemn, for if Johnny could not go there 
 he would be badly ofi". Fortunately he was ten, and 
 dear Mrs. Eussell helped me, and those good people 
 
"The poor little thintj came and stood at my knee. 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 25 
 
 took him in though they were crowded. ' We cannot 
 turn one away,' said kind Mr. Parpatharges. 
 
 " So there my boy is, as happy as a king with his 
 httle mates, learning all sorts of useful lessons and prett}' 
 plays. He models nicely in clay. Here is one of his 
 little works. Could you do as well without eyes 1 " 
 and Lizzie proudly produced a very one-sided pear with 
 a long straw for a stem. " I don't expect he will ever 
 be a sculptor, but I hope he will do something with 
 music he loves it so, and is already piping away on a 
 fife very cleverly. Whatever his gift may prove, if 
 he lives, he will be taught to be a useful, independent 
 man, not a helpless burden, nor an unhappy creature 
 sitting alone in the dark. I feel very happy about 
 my lads, and am surprised to find how well I get on 
 with them. I shall look up some more next year, for 
 I really think I have quite a gift that way, though you 
 would n't expect it, as I have no brothers, and always 
 had a fancy boys were little imps." 
 
 The girls were much amused at Lizzie's discovery of 
 her own powers, for she was a stately damsel, who never 
 indulged in romps, but lived for her music. Now it was 
 evident that she had found the key to unlock childish 
 hearts, and was learning to use it, quite unconscious 
 that the sweet voice she valued so highly was much 
 improved by the tender tones singing lullabies gave it. 
 The fat pear was passed round like refreshments, re- 
 ceiving much praise and no harsh criticism ; and when 
 it was safely returned to its proud possessor, Ida began 
 her tale in a lively tone. 
 
 " I waited for my chore, and it came tumbling down 
 
*• 
 
 26 A GARLAND FOE GIRLS. 
 
 our basement steps one rainy day in the shape of a 
 large dilapidated umbrella with a pair of small boots 
 below it, A mild howl made me run to open the door, 
 for I was at lunch in the dining-room, all alone, and 
 rather blue because I could n't go over to see Ella. 
 A very small girl lay with her head in a puddle at the 
 foot of the steps, the boots waving in the air, and the 
 umbrella brooding over her like a draggled green bird, 
 
 " 'Are you hurt, child]' said I. 
 
 " ' No, I thank you, ma'am,' said the mite quite 
 calmly, as she sat up and settled a woman's shabby 
 black hat on her head. 
 
 " ' Did you come begging 1 ' I asked. 
 
 " ' No, ma'am, I came for some things Mrs. Grover 's 
 got for us. She told me to. 1 don't beg.' And up 
 rose the sopping thing with great dignity. 
 
 " So I asked her to sit down, and ran up to call Mrs. 
 Grover. She was busy with Grandpa just then, and 
 when I went back to my lunch there sat my lady with 
 her arms folded, water dripping out of the toes of her 
 old boots as they hung down from the high chair, and 
 the biggest blue eyes I ever saw fixed upon the cake 
 and oranges on the table. I gave her a piece, and she 
 sighed with rapture, but only picked at it till I asked 
 if she did n't like it, 
 
 " ' Oh yes, 'm, it 's elegant ! Only I was wishin' I 
 could take it to Caddy and Tot, if you did n't mind. 
 They never had frostin' in all their lives, and I did 
 once.' 
 
 " Of course I put up a little basket of cake and or- 
 anges and figs, and while Lotty feasted, we talked. I 
 
MAY FLOWEKS. 27 
 
 found that their mother washed dishes all day in a res- 
 taurant over by the Albany Station, leaving the three 
 children alone in the room they have on Berry Street. 
 Think of that poor thing going off before light these 
 vfinter mornings to stand over homd dishes all day 
 long, and those three scraps of children alone till night ! 
 Sometimes they had a fire, and when they hadn't they 
 stayed in bed. Broken food and four dollars a week was 
 all the woman got, and on that they tried to live. Good 
 Mrs. Grover happened to be nursing a poor soul near 
 Berry Street last summer, and used to see the three 
 little things trailing round the streets with no one to 
 look after them. 
 
 " Lotty is nine, though she looks about six, but is as 
 old as most girls of fourteen, and takes good care of ' the 
 babies,' as she calls the younger ones. Mrs. Grover 
 went to see them, and, though a hard-working creature, 
 did all she could for them. This winter she has plenty 
 of time to sew, for Grandpapa needs little done for 
 him except at night and morning, and that kind woman 
 spent her own money, and got warm flannel and cotton 
 and stuff, and made each child a good suit. Lotty 
 had come for hers, and when the bundle was in her 
 arms she hugged it close, and put up her little face to 
 kiss Grover so prettily, I felt that I wanted to do some- 
 thing too. So I hunted up Min's old waterproof and 
 rubbers, and a hood, and sent Lotty home as happy 
 as a queen, promising to go and see her. I did go, and 
 there was my work all ready for me. Oh, girls ! such 
 a bare, cold room, without a spark of fire, and no food 
 but a pan of bits of pie and bread and meat, not fit for 
 
28 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 any one to eat, and in the bed, with an old carpet for 
 cover, lay the three children. Tot and Caddy cuddled 
 in the warmest place, while Lotty, with her little blue 
 hands, was trying to patch up some old stockings with 
 bits of cotton. I did n't know lioio to begin, but Lotty 
 did, and I just took her orders; for that wise little 
 woman told me where to buy a bushel of coal and 
 some kindlings, and milk and meal, and all I wanted. 
 I worked like a beaver for an hour or two, and was 
 so glad I 'd been to a cooking-class, for I could make 
 a fire, with Lotty to do the grubby part, and start a 
 nice soup with the cold meat and potatoes, and an 
 onion or so. Soon the room was warm, and full of a 
 nice smell, and out of bed tumbled 'the babies,' to 
 dance round the stove and sniff at the soup, and drink 
 milk like hungry kittens, till I could get bread and 
 butter ready. 
 
 " It was great fun ! and when we had cleared things 
 up a bit, and I'd put food for supper in the closet, 
 and told Lotty to warm a bowl of soup for her mother 
 and keep the fire going, I went home tired and dirty, 
 but very glad I 'd found something to do. It is per- 
 fectly amazing how little poor people's things cost, and 
 yet they can't get the small amount of money needed 
 without working themselves to death. Why, all I 
 bought did n't cost more than I often spend for flowers, 
 or theatre tickets, or lunches, and it made those poor 
 babies so comfortable I could have cried to think I 'd 
 never done it before." 
 
 Ida paused to shake her head remorsefully, then went 
 on with her story, sewing busily all the while on an 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 29 
 
 unbleached cotton night-gown -which looked about fit 
 for a large doll. 
 
 " I have no romantic things to tell, for poor Mrs. 
 Kennedy was a shiftless, broken-down -woman, who 
 could only 'sozzle round,' as Mrs. Grover said, and 
 rub along with help from any one who -would lend a 
 hand. She had lived out, married young, and had no 
 faculty about anything; so when her husband died, and 
 she was left with three little children, it was hard to 
 get on, with no trade, feeble health, and a discouraged 
 mind. She does her best, loves the girls, and works 
 hard at the only thing she can find to do ; but when she 
 gives out, they will all have to part, — she to a hospi- 
 tal, and the babies to some home. She dreads that, 
 and tugs away, trying to keep together and get ahead. 
 Thanks to Mrs. Grover, who is very sensible, and 
 knows how to help poor people, we have made things 
 comfortable, and the winter has gone nicely. 
 
 " The mother has got work nearer home, Lotty and 
 Caddy go to school, and Tot is safe and warm, with 
 Miss Parsons to look after her. Miss Parsons is a 
 young woman who was freezing and starving in a little 
 room upstairs, too proud to beg and too shy and sick to 
 get much work. I found her warming her hands one 
 day in Mrs. Kennedy's room, and hanging over the soup- 
 pot as if she was eating the smell. It reminded me of 
 the picture in Punch where the two beggar boys look in 
 at a kitchen, sniffing at the nice dinner cooking there. 
 One says, ' I don't care for the meat. Bill, but I don't 
 mind if I takes a smell at the pudd'n' -^vhen it 's dished.' 
 I proposed a lunch at once, and we all sat down, and ate 
 
30 A GARLAND FOE GIRLS. 
 
 soup out of yellow bowls with pewter spoons with such 
 a relish it was fun to see. I had on my old rig; so poor 
 Parsons thought I was some dressmaker or work-girl, 
 and opened her heart to me as she never would have 
 done if I 'd gone and demanded her confidenee, and 
 patronized her, as some people do when they want to 
 help. I promised her some work, and proposed that she 
 should do it in Mrs. K.'s room, as a favor, mind you, so 
 that the older girls could go to school and Tot have 
 some one to look after her. She agreed, and that saved 
 her fire, and made the K'.s all right. Sarah (that's Miss 
 P.) tried to stiti'en up when she learned where I lived ; 
 but she wanted the work, and soon found I did n't put 
 on airs, but lent her books, and brought her and Tot 
 my bouquets and favors after a german, and told her 
 pleasant things as she sat cooking her poor chilblainy 
 feet in the oven, as if she never could get thawed out. 
 
 " This summer the whole batch are to go to Uncle 
 Frank's farm and pick berries, and get strong. He 
 hires dozens of women and children during the fruit 
 season, and Mrs. Grover said it was just what they all 
 needed. So off they go in June, as merry as grigs, and 
 I shall be able to look after them now and then, as I 
 always go to the farm in July. That 's all, — not a bit 
 interesting, but it came to me, and I did it, though 
 only a small chore." 
 
 *' I 'm sure the helping of five poor souls is a fine 
 work, and you may well be proud of it, Ida. Now I 
 know why you would n't go to matinees with me, and 
 buy every pretty thing we saw as you used to. The 
 pocket money went for coal and food, and your fancy 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 31 
 
 work was little clothes for these live dolls of yours. 
 You dear thing ! how good you were to cook, and grub, 
 and prick your fingers rough, and give up fun, for this 
 kind work ! " 
 
 Maggie's hearty kiss, and the faces of her friends, 
 made Ida feel that her humble task had its worth in 
 their eyes, as well as in her own ; and when the others 
 had expressed their interest in her work, all composed 
 themselves to hear what Marion had to tell. 
 
 " I have been taking care of a scarlet runner, — a 
 poor old frost-bitten, neglected thing ; it is transplanted 
 now, and doing well, I 'm happy to say." 
 
 "What do you mean^' asked Ella, while the rest 
 looked very curious, 
 
 Marion picked up a dropped stitch in the large blue 
 sock she was knitting, and continued, with a laugh in 
 her eyes : " IMy dears, that is what we call the Sol- 
 diers' Messenger Corps, with their red caps and busy 
 legs trotting all day. I 've had one of them to care 
 for, and a gorgieous time of it, I do assure you. But 
 before I exult over my success, I must honestly con- 
 fess my failures, for they were sad ones. I was so anx- 
 ious to begin my work at once, that I did go out and 
 collar the first pauper I saw. It was an old man, who 
 sometimes stands at the corners of streets to sell 
 bunches of ugly paper flowers. You 've seen him, I 
 dare say, and his magenta daisies and yellow peonies. 
 Well, he was rather a forlorn object, with his poor old 
 red nose, and bleary eyes, and white hair, standing at 
 the windy corners silently holding out those horrid 
 flowers. I bought all he had that day, and gave them 
 
32 A OAKLAND FOE GIELS. 
 
 to some colored children on my way home, and told 
 him to come to our house and get an old coat Mamma 
 was waiting to get rid of. He told a pitiful story of 
 himself and his old wife, who made the paper horrors 
 in her bed, and how they needed everything, but 
 did n't wish to beg. I was much touched, and flew 
 home to look up the coat and some shoes, and when 
 my old Lear came creeping in the back way, I ordered 
 cook to give him a warm dinner and something nice 
 for the old woman. 
 
 " I was called lapstairs while he was mumbling his 
 food, and blessing me in the most lovely manner ; and 
 he went away much comforted, I flattered myself. 
 But an hour later, up came the cook in a great panic 
 to report that my venerable and pious beggar had car- 
 ried off several of Papa's shirts and pairs of socks out 
 of the clothes-basket in the laundry, and the nice warm 
 hood we keep for the girl to hang out clothes in. 
 
 " I was ver?/ angry, and, taking Harry with me, went 
 at once to the address the old rascal gave me, a dirty 
 court out of Hanover Street. No such person had 
 ever lived there, and my white-haired saint was a hum- 
 bug. Harry laughed at me, and Mamma forbade me 
 to bring any more thieves to the house, and the girls 
 scolded awfully. 
 
 " Well, I recovered from the shock, and, nothing 
 daunted, went off to the little Irishwoman who sells 
 apples on the Common, — not the fat, cosey one with 
 the stall near West Street, but the dried-up one who sits 
 by the path, nodding over an old basket with six apples 
 and four sticks of candy in it. No one ever seems to 
 
MAY FLOWEKS. 33 
 
 buy anything, but she sits there and trusts to kind 
 souls dropping a dime now and then, she looks so feeble 
 and forlorn, 'on the cold, cold ground.' 
 
 " She told me another sad tale of being all alone 
 and unable to work, and ' as wake as wather-grewl, 
 without a hap-worth av flesh upon me bones, and for 
 the love of Heaven gimme a thrifle to kape the breath 
 av loife in a poor soul, with a bitter hard winter over 
 me, and niver a chick or child to do a hand's turn.' I 
 had n't much faith in her, remembering my other hum- 
 bug, but I did pity the old mummy; so I got some tea 
 and sugar, and a shawl, and used to give her my odd 
 pennies as I passed. I never told at home, they made 
 such fun of my efforts to be charitable. I thought I 
 really was getting on pretty well after a time, as my 
 old Biddy seemed quite cheered up, and I was planning 
 to give her some coal, when she disappeared all of a 
 sudden. I feared she was ill, and asked Mrs. Maloney, 
 the fat woman, about her. 
 
 " ' Lord love ye. Miss dear, it 's tuk up and sint to 
 the Island for tree months she is ; for a drunken ould 
 crayther is Biddy Ryan, and niver a cint but goes for 
 whiskey, — more shame to her, wid a fine bye av her 
 own ready to kape her day cint.' 
 
 " Then I tvas discouraged, and went home to fold 
 my hands, and see what fate would send me, my own 
 efforts being such failures." 
 
 " Poor thing, it was hard luck ! " said Elizabeth, as 
 they sobered down after the gale of merriment caused 
 by Marion's mishaps, and her clever imitation of the 
 brogue. 
 
 (446) 3 
 
34 A OAKLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 " Now tell of your success, and the scarlet runner," 
 added Maggie. 
 
 "Ah! that was sent, and so I prospered. I must 
 begin ever so far back, in war times, or I can't in- 
 troduce my hero properly. You know Papa was in the 
 army, and fought all through the war till Gettysburg, 
 where he was wounded. He was engaged just before 
 he went ; so when his father hurried to him after that 
 awful battle. Mamma went also, and helped nurse him 
 till he could come home. He would n't go to an officer's 
 hospital, but kept with his men in a poor sort of place, 
 for many of his boys wei'e hit, and he would n't leave 
 them. Sergeant Joe Collins was one of the bravest, 
 and lost his right arm saving the flag in one of the 
 hottest struggles of that great fight. He had been a 
 Maine lumberman, and was over six feet tall, but as 
 gentle as a child, and as jolly as a boy, and very fond 
 of his colonel. 
 
 " Papa left first, but made Joe promise to let him 
 know how he got on, and Joe did so till he too went 
 home. Then Papa lost sight of him, and in the excite- 
 ment of his own illness, and the end of the war, and 
 being married, Joe Collins was forgotten, till we chil- 
 dren came along, and used to love to hear the story of 
 Papa's battles, and how the brave sergeant caught the 
 flag when the bearer was shot, and held it in the rush 
 till one arm was blown off" and the other wounded. 
 We have fighting blood in us, you know, so we were 
 never tired of that story, though twenty-five years or 
 more make it all as far away to us as the old Revolution, 
 where our ancestor was killed, at our Bunker Hill ! 
 
MAY FLO WEES. 35 
 
 " Last December, just after my sad disappoint- 
 ments, Papa came home to dinner one day, exclaim- 
 ing, in great glee : ' I 've found old Joe ! A messenger 
 came with a letter to me, and when I looked up to 
 give my answer, there stood a tall, grizzled fellow, as 
 straight as a ramrod, grinning from ear to ear, with 
 his hand to his temple, saluting me in regular style, 
 " Don't you remember Joe Collins, Colonel 1 Awful 
 glad to see you, sir," said he. And then it all came back, 
 and we had a good talk, and I found out that the poor 
 old boy was down on his luck, and almost friendless, but 
 as proud and independent as ever, and bound to take 
 care of himself while he had a leg to stand on. I 've 
 got his address, and mean to keep an eye on him, for 
 he looks feeble and can't make much, I'm sure.' 
 
 " We were all very glad, and Joe came to see us, 
 and Papa sent him on endless errands, and helped him 
 in that way till he went to N"ew York. Then, in the 
 fun and flurry of the holidays, we forgot all about Joe, 
 till Papa came home and missed him from his post. 
 I said I 'd go and find him; so Harry and I rummaged 
 about till we did find him, in a little house at the 
 North End, laid up with rheumatic fever in a stuffy 
 back room, with no one to look after him but the 
 washerwoman with whom he boarded. 
 
 " I was so sorry we had forgotten him ! but he never 
 complained, only said, with his cheerful grin, 'I kinder 
 mistrusted the Colonel was away, but I was n't goin' 
 to pester him.' He tried to be jolly, though in dread- 
 ful pain ; called Harry ' Major,' and was so grateful 
 for all we brought him, though he did n't want oranges 
 
36 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 and tea, and made us shout when I said, like a goose, 
 thinking that was the proper thing to do, 'Shall I 
 bathe your brow, you are so feverish ] ' 
 
 " ' No, thanky, miss, it was swabbed pretty stiddy to 
 the horsepittle, and I reckon a trifle of tobaccer would 
 do more good and be a sight more relishin', ef you '11 
 excuse my mentionin' it.' 
 
 " Harry rushed off and got a great lump and a pipe, 
 and Joe lay blissfully puffing, in a cloud of smoke, 
 when we left him, promising to come again. We did 
 go nearly every day, and had lovely times; for Joe told 
 us his adventures, and we got so interested in the war 
 that I began to read up evenings, and Papa was pleased, 
 and fought all his battles over again for us, and Harry 
 and I were great friends reading together, and Papa 
 was charmed to see the old General's spirit in us, as 
 we got excited and discussed all our wars in a fever of 
 patriotism that made Mamma laugh. Joe said I 'brus- 
 tled up ' at the word battle like a war-horse at the smell 
 of powder, and I 'd ought to have been a drummer, the 
 sound of martial music made me so 'skittish.' 
 
 "It was all new and charming to us young ones, but 
 poor old Joe had a hard time, and was very ill. Ex- 
 posure and fatigue, and scanty food, and loneliness, 
 and his wounds, were too much for him, and it was 
 plain his working days were over. He hated the 
 thought of the poor-house at home, which was all his 
 own town could offer him, and he had no friends to 
 live with, and he could not get a pension, something 
 being wrong about his papers ; so he would have been 
 badly off, but for the Soldiers' Home at Chelsea. As 
 
MAY FLOWEES. 37 
 
 soon as he was able, Papa got him in there, and he was 
 glad to go, for that seemed the proper place, and a 
 charity the proudest man might accept, after risking 
 his life for his country. 
 
 " There is where I used to be going when you saw 
 me, and I was so afraid you 'd smell the cigars in my 
 basket. The dear old boys always want them, and 
 Papa says they must have them, though it is n't half 
 so romantic as flowers, and jelly, and wine, and the 
 dainty messes we women always want to carry. I 've 
 learned about different kinds of tobacco and cigars, and 
 you 'd laugh to see me deal out my gifts, which are 
 received as gratefully as the Victoria Cross, when the 
 Queen decorates her brave men. I 'm quite a great 
 gun over there, and the boys salute when I come, tell 
 me their woes, and think that Papa and I can run the 
 whole concern. I like it immensely, and am as proud 
 and fond of my dear old wrecks as if I 'd been a Rigo- 
 letto, and ridden on a cannon from my babyhood. 
 That 's my story, but I can't begin to tell how inter- 
 esting it all is, nor how glad I am that it led me to 
 look into the history of American wars, in which brave 
 men of our name did their parts so well." 
 
 A hearty round of applause greeted Marion's tale, 
 for her glowing face and excited voice stirred the pa- 
 triotic spirit of the Boston girls, and made them beam 
 approvingly upon her. 
 
 " Now, Maggie, dear, last but not least, I 'm sure," 
 said Anna, with an encouraging glance, for she had 
 discovered the secret of this friend, and loved her 
 more than ever for it. 
 
38 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Maggie blushed and hesitated, as she put down the 
 dehcate muslin cap-strings she was hemming with such 
 care. Then, looking about her with a face in which 
 both humility and pride contended, she said with an 
 effort, " After the other lively experiences, mine will 
 sound very flat. In fact, I have no story to tell, for 
 my charity began at home, and stopped there." 
 
 " Tell it, dear. I know it is interesting, and will do 
 us all good," said Anna, quickly ; and, thus supported, 
 Maggie went on. 
 
 " I planned great things, and talked about what I 
 meant to do, till Papa said one day, when things were 
 in a mess, as they often are at our house, ' If the little 
 girls who want to help the world along would remem- 
 ber that charity begins at home, they would soon find 
 enough to do.' 
 
 " I was rather taken aback, and said no more, but 
 after Papa had gone to the office, I began to think, and 
 looked round to see what there was to be done at that 
 particular moment. I found enough for that day, and 
 took hold at once; for poor Mamma had one of her bad 
 headaches, the children could not go out because it 
 rained, and so were howling in the nursery, cook was 
 on a rampage, and Maria had the toothache. Well, I 
 began by making Mamma lie down for a good long 
 sleep. I kept the childi'en quiet by giving them my 
 ribbon box and jewelry to dress up with, put a poul- 
 tice on Maria's face, and offered to wash the glass and 
 silver for her, to appease cook, who was as cross as two 
 sticks over extra work washing-day. It was n't much 
 fun, as you may imagine, but I got through the after- 
 
MAY FLO WEES. 39 
 
 noon, and kept the house still, and at dusk crept into 
 Mamma's room and softly built up the fire, so it should 
 be cheery when she waked. Then I went trembling 
 to the kitchen for some tea, and there found three girls 
 calling, and high jinks going on ; for one whisked a 
 plate of cake into the table drawer, another put a 
 cup under her shawl, and cook hid the teapot, as I 
 stirred round in the china closet before opening the 
 slide, through a crack of which I 'd seen, heard, and 
 smelt ' the party,' as the children call it. 
 
 " I was angry enough to scold the whole set, but I 
 wisely held my tongue, shut my eyes, and politely 
 asked for some hot water, nodded to the guests, and 
 told cook Maria was better, and would do her work 
 if she wanted to go out. 
 
 *' So peace reigned, and as I settled the tray, I heard 
 cook say in her balmiest tone, for I suspect the cake 
 and tea lay heavy on her conscience, ' The mistress is 
 very poorly, and Miss takes nice care of her, the dear.' 
 
 "All blarney, but it pleased me and made me re- 
 member how feeble poor Mamma was, and how little I 
 really did. So I wept a repentant weep as I toiled 
 upstairs with my tea and toast, and found Mamma all 
 ready for them, and so pleased to find things going 
 well. I saw by that what a relief it would be to her 
 if I did it oftener, as I ought, and as I resolved that I 
 would. 
 
 " I did n't say anything, but I kept on doing what- 
 ever came along, and before I knew it ever so many 
 duties slipped out of Mamma's hands into mine, and 
 seemed tu belono: to me. I don't mean that I liked 
 
40 A GAELAND FOE GIELS, 
 
 them, and did n't grumble to myself; I did, and felt 
 regularly crushed and injured sometimes when I wanted 
 to go and have my own fun. Duty is right, but it is n't 
 easy, and the only comfort about it is a sort of quiet 
 feeling you get after a while, and a strong feeling, as 
 if you 'd found something to hold on to and keep you 
 steady. I can't express it, but you know 1 " And 
 Maggie looked wistfully at the other faces, some of 
 which answered her with a quick flash of sympathy, 
 and some only wore a puzzled yet respectful expression, 
 as if they felt they ought to know, but did not. 
 
 " I need not tire you with all my humdrum doings," 
 continued Maggie. " I made no plans, but just said 
 each day, ' I 'U take what comes, and try to be cheerful 
 and contented.' So I looked after the children, and 
 that left Maria moi-e time to sew and help round. I 
 did errands, and went to market, and saw that Papa had 
 his meals comfortably when Mamma was not able to 
 come down. I made calls for her, and received vis- 
 itors, and soon went on as if I were the lady of the 
 house, not ' a chit of a girl,' as Cousin Tom used to 
 call me. 
 
 " The best of all were the cosey talks we had in the 
 twilight. Mamma and I, when she was rested, and all 
 the day's worry was over, and we were waiting for 
 Papa. Now, when he came, I did n't have to go away, 
 for they wanted to ask and tell me things, and consult 
 about affairs, and make me feel that I was really the 
 eldest daughter. Oh, it was just lovely to sit between 
 them and know that they needed me, and loved to have 
 me with them ! That made up for the hard and dis- 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 41 
 
 agreeable things, and not long ago I got my reward. 
 Mamma is better, and I was rejoicing over it, when 
 she said, 'Yes, I really am mending now, and hope 
 soon to be able to relieve my good girl. But I want 
 to tell you, dear, that when I was most discouraged 
 my greatest comfort was, that if I had to leave my 
 poor babies they would find such a faithful little 
 mother in you.' 
 
 " I was so pleased I wanted to cry, for the children 
 do love me, and run to me for everything now, and 
 think the world of Sister, and they did n't use to care 
 much for me. But that was n't all. I ought not to 
 tell these things, perhaps, but I 'm so proud of them 
 I can't help it. When I asked Papa privately, if 
 Mamma was really better and in no danger of falling 
 ill again, he said, with his arms round me, and such a 
 tender kiss, — 
 
 " ' No danger now, for this brave little girl put her 
 shoulder to the wheel so splendidly, that the dear 
 woman got the relief from care she needed just at the 
 right time, and now she really rests sure that we are 
 not neglected. You could n't have devoted yourself 
 to a better charity, or done it more sweetly, my dar- 
 ling. God bless you ! ' " 
 
 Here Maggie's voice gave out, and she hid her face, 
 with a happy sob, that finished her story eloquently. 
 Marion flew to wipe her tears away with the blue sock, 
 and the others gave a sympathetic murmur, looking 
 much touched ; forgotten duties of their own rose before 
 t'tom, and sudden resolutions were made to attend to 
 
42 A OAKLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 them at once, seeing how great Maggie's reward had 
 been. 
 
 "I didn't mean to be silly; but I wanted you to 
 know that I had n't been idle all winter, and that, 
 though I have n't much to tell, I 'm quite satisfied with 
 my chore," she said, looking up with smiles shining 
 through the tears till her face resembled a rose in a 
 sun-shower. 
 
 " Many daughters have done well, but thou excellest 
 them all," answered Anna, with a kiss that completed 
 her satisfaction. 
 
 " JSTow, as it is after our usual time, and we must 
 break up," continued the President, producing a basket 
 of flowers from its hiding-place, " I will merely say that 
 I think we have all learned a good deal, and will be 
 able to work better next winter; for I am sure we shall 
 want to try again, it adds so much sweetness to our 
 own lives to put even a little comfort into the hard 
 lives of the poor. As a farewell token, I sent for some 
 real Plymouth mayflowers, and here they are, a posy 
 apiece, with my love and many thanks for your help 
 in carrying out my plan so beautifully." 
 
 So the nosegays were bestowed, the last lively chat 
 enjoyed, new plans suggested, and good-byes said; 
 then the club separated, each member going gayly 
 away with the rosy flowers on her bosom, and in it a 
 clearer knowledge of the sad side of life, a fresh desire 
 to see and help still more, and a sweet satisfaction in 
 the thought that each had done what she could. 
 
AN lYY SPRAY AND LADIES' SLIPPERS. 
 
 " It can't be done ! So I may as well give it up 
 and get a new pair. I long for them, but I 'm afraid 
 my nice little plan for Laura will be spoilt," said 
 Jessie Delano to herself, as she shook her head over 
 a pair of small, dilapidated slippers almost past mend- 
 ing. While she vainly pricked her fingers over them 
 for the last time, her mind was full of girlish hopes 
 and fears, as well as of anxieties far too serious for a 
 light-hearted creature of sixteen. 
 
 A year ago the sisters had been the petted daugh- 
 ters of a rich man ; but death and misfortune came 
 suddenly, and now they were left to face poverty alone. 
 They had few relations, and had offended the rich 
 uncle who offered Jessie a home, because she refused 
 to be separated from her sister. Poor Laura was an 
 invalid, and no one wanted her ; but Jessie would not 
 leave her, so they clung together and lived on in the 
 humble rooms where their father died, trying to earn 
 their bread by the only accomplishments they pos- 
 sessed. Laura painted well, and after many disap- 
 pointments was beginning to find a sale for her dainty 
 designs and delicate flowers. Jessie had a natural gift 
 for dancing ; and her former teacher, a kind-hearted 
 Frenchwoman, offered her favorite pupil the post of 
 assistant teacher in her classes for children. 
 
44 A GAELAND FOE GIELS. 
 
 It cost the girl a struggle to accept a place of this 
 sort and be a humble teacher, patiently twirling stu- 
 pid little boys and girls round and round over the 
 smooth floor where she used to dance so happily when 
 she was the pride of the class and the queen of the 
 closing balls. But for Laura's sake she gratefully 
 accepted the offer, glad to add her mite to their small 
 store, and to feel that she could help keep the wolf 
 from the door. They had seemed to hear the howl of 
 this dreaded phantom more than once during that 
 year, and looked forward to the long hard winter 
 with an anxiety which neither would confess to the 
 other. Laura feared to fall ill if she worked too 
 hard, and then what would become of this pretty 
 young sister who loved her so tenderly and would 
 not be tempted to leave her? And Jessie could do 
 very little except rebel against their hard fate and 
 make impracticable plans. But each worked bravely, 
 talked cheerfully, and waited hopefully for some good 
 fortune to befall them, while doubt and pain and 
 poverty and care made the young hearts so heavy 
 that the poor girls often fell asleep on pillows wet 
 with secret tears. 
 
 The smaller trials of life beset Jessie at this par- 
 ticular moment, and her bright wits were trying to 
 solve the problem how to spend her treasured five 
 dollars on slippers for herself and paints for Laura. 
 Both were much needed, and she had gone in shabby 
 shoes to save up money for the little surprise on 
 which she had set her heart; but now dismay fell 
 upon her when the holes refused to be cobbled, and 
 
AN IVY SPEAY AND LADIES' SLIPPERS. 45 
 
 the largest of bows would not hide the worn-out toes 
 in spite of ink and blacking lavishly applied. 
 
 "These are the last of my dear French slippers, 
 and I can't afford any more. I hate cheap things! 
 But I shall have to get them ; for my boots are shabby, 
 and every one has to look at my feet when I lead. 
 Oh dear, what a horrid thing it is to be poor ! " and 
 Jessie surveyed the shabby little shoes affectionately, 
 as her eyes filled with tears ; for the road looked very 
 rough and steep now, when she remembered how she 
 used to dance through life as happy as a butterfly in 
 a garden full of sunshine and flowers. 
 
 " Now, Jess, no nonsense, no red eyes to tell tales ! 
 Go and do your errands, and come in as gay as a lark, 
 or Laura will be worried." And springing up, the 
 girl began to sing instead of sob, as she stirred about 
 her dismal little room, cleaning her old gloves, mend- 
 ing her one white dress, and wishing with a sigh of 
 intense longing that she could afford some flowers 
 to wear, every ornament having been sold long 
 ago. Then, with a kiss and a smile to her patient 
 sister, she hurried away to get the necessary slip- 
 pers and the much-desired paints, which Laura 
 would not ask for, though her work waited for want 
 of them. 
 
 Having been reared in luxury, poor little Jessie's 
 tastes were all of the daintiest sort ; and her hardest 
 trial, after Laura's feeble health, was the daily sacri- 
 fice of the many comforts and elegances to which she 
 had been accustomed. Faded gowns, cleaned gloves, 
 and mended boots cost her many a pang, and the 
 
46 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 constant temptation of seeing pretty, useful, and un- 
 attainable things was a very hard one. Laura rarely 
 went out, and so was spared this cross ; then she was 
 three years older, had always been delicate, and lived 
 much in a happy world of her own. So Jessie bore 
 her trials silently, but sometimes felt very covetous 
 and resentful to see so much pleasure, money, and 
 beauty in the world, and yet have so little of it fall to 
 her lot. 
 
 " I feel as if I could pick a pocket to-day and not 
 mind a bit, if it were a rich person's. It 's a shame, 
 when papa was always so generous, that no one re- 
 members us. If ever I 'm rich again, I '11 just hunt 
 up all the poor girls I can find, and give them nice 
 shoes, if nothing else," she thought, as she went along 
 the crowded streets, pausing involuntarily at the shop 
 windows to look with longing eyes at the treasures 
 within. 
 
 Resisting the allurements of French slippers with 
 bows and buckles, she wisely bought a plain, service- 
 able pair, and trudged away, finding balm for her 
 wounds in the fact that they were very cheap. More 
 balm came when she met a young friend, who joined 
 her as she stood wistfully eying the piles of grapes in 
 a window and longing to buy some for Laura. 
 
 This warm-hearted schoolmate read the wish before 
 Jessie saw her, and gratified it so adroitly that the 
 girl could accept the pretty basketful sent to her 
 sister without feeling like a spendthrift or a beggar. 
 It comforted her very much, and the world began to 
 look brighter after that little touch of kindness, as it 
 
AN IVY SPEAY AND LADIES' SLIPPEES. 47 
 
 always does when genuine sympathy makes sunshine 
 in shady places. 
 
 At the art store she was told that more of Laura's 
 autumn-flowers were in demand ; and her face was so 
 full of innocent delight and gratitude it quite touched 
 the old man who sold her the paints, and gave her 
 more than her money's worth, remembering his own 
 hard times and pitying the pretty young girl whose 
 father he had known. 
 
 So Jessie did not have to pretend very hard at 
 being " as gay as a lark " when she got home and 
 showed her treasures. Laura was so happy over the 
 unexpected gifts that the dinner of bread and milk 
 and grapes was quite a picnic ; and Jessie found a 
 smile on her face when she went to dress for her 
 party. 
 
 It was only a child's party at the house of one of 
 Mademoiselle's pupils, and Jessie was merely invited 
 to help the little people through their dancing. She 
 did not like to go in this way, as she was sure to 
 meet familiar faces there, full of the pity, curiosity, or 
 indifference so hard for a gii'l to bear. But Mademoi- 
 selle asked it as a favor, and Jessie was grateful ; so 
 she went, expecting no pleasure and certain of much 
 weariness, if not annoyance. 
 
 When she was ready, — and it did not take long 
 to slip on the white woollen dress, brush out the 
 curly dark hair, and fold up slippers and gloves, 
 — she stood before her glass looking at herself, quite 
 conscious that she was very pretty, with her large 
 eyes, blooming cheeks, and the lofty little air which 
 
48 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 nothing could change. She was also painfully con- 
 scious that her dress was neither fresh nor becoming 
 without a bit of ribbon or a knot of flowers to give it 
 the touch of color it needed. She had an artistic eye, 
 and used to delight in ordering charming costumes for 
 herself in the happy days when all her wishes were 
 granted as if fairies still lived. She tossed over her 
 very small store of ribbons in vain ; everything had 
 been worn till neither beauty nor freshness remained. 
 
 " Oh dear ! where can I find something to make me 
 look less like a nun, — and a very shabby one, too % " 
 she said, longing for the pink corals she sold to pay 
 Laura's doctor's bill. 
 
 The sound of a soft tap, tap, tap, startled her, and 
 she ran to open the door. No one was there but 
 Laura, fast asleep on the sofa. Tap, tap, tap ! went 
 the invisible hand ; and as the sound seemed to come 
 from the window, Jessie glanced that way, thinking 
 her tame dove had come to be fed. Neither hungry 
 dove nor bold sparrow appeared, — only a spray of 
 Japanese ivy waving in the wind. A very pretty 
 spray it was, covered with tiny crimson leaves ; and 
 it tapped impatiently, as if it answered her question 
 by saying, " Here is a garland for you ; come and 
 take it." 
 
 Jessie's quick eye was caught at once by the fine 
 color, and running to the window she looked out as 
 eagerly as if a new idea had come into her head. It 
 was a dull November day, and the prospect of sheds, 
 ash-barrels, and old brooms was a gloomy one ; but the 
 whole back of the house glowed with the red tendrils 
 
AN IVY SPEAY AND LADIES' SLIPPEES. 49 
 
 of the hardy vine that clung to and covered the dingy 
 bricks with a royal mantle, as if eager to cheer the eyes 
 and hearts of all who looked. It preached a little ser- 
 mon of courage, aspiration, and content to those who 
 had the skill to read it, and bade them see how, spring- 
 ing from the scanty soil of that back yard full of the 
 commonest objects, the humblest work, it set its little 
 creepers in the crannies of the stone, and struggled up 
 to find the sun and air, till it grew strong and beau- 
 tiful, — making the blank wall green in summer, 
 glorious in autumn, and a refuge in winter, when it 
 welcomed the sparrows to the shelter of its branches 
 where the sun lay warmest. 
 
 Jessie loved this beautiful neighbor, and had en- 
 joyed it all that summer, — the first she ever spent in 
 the hot city. She felt the grace its greenness gave to 
 all it touched, and half unconsciously imitated it in 
 trying to be brave and bright, as she also climbed 
 up from the dismal place where she seemed shut away 
 from everything lovely, till she was beginning to 
 discover that the blue sky was over all, the sun still 
 shone for her, and heaven's fresh air kissed her 
 cheeks as kindly as ever. Many a night she had 
 leaned from the high window when Laura was asleep, 
 dreaming innocent dreams, living over her short past, 
 or trying to look into the future bravely and trust- 
 fully. The little vine had felt warmer drops than 
 rain or dew fall on it when things went badly, had 
 heard whispered prayers when the lonely child asked 
 the Father of the fatherless for lielp and comfort, had 
 peeped in to see her sleeping peacefully when the 
 
 ( 44C ) 4 
 
50 A GAELAND FOE GIELS. 
 
 hard hour was over, and been the first to greet her 
 with a tap on the window-pane as she woke full 
 of new hope in the morning. It seemed to know all 
 her moods and troubles, to be her friend and confi- 
 dante, and now came with help like a fairy godmother 
 when our Cinderella wanted to be fine for the little 
 ball. 
 
 " Just the thing ! Why did n't I think of it 1 So 
 bright and delicate and becoming 1 It will last better 
 than flowers ; and no one can think I 'm extravagant, 
 since it costs nothing." 
 
 As she spoke, Jessie was gathering long sprays of 
 the rosy vine, with its glossy leaves so beautifully 
 shaded that it was evident Jack Frost had done his 
 best for it. Going to her glass, she fastened a wreath 
 of the smallest leaves about her head, set a cluster of 
 larger ones in her bosom, and then surveyed herself 
 with girlish pleasure, as well she might ; for the effect 
 of the simple decoration was charming. Quite satis- 
 fied now, she tied on her cloud and slipped away 
 without waking Laura, little dreaming what good for- 
 tune the ivy spray was to bring them both. 
 
 She found the children prancing with impatience to 
 begin their ballet, much excited by the music, gas- 
 light, and gay dresses, which made it seem like " a 
 truly ball." All welcomed Jessie, and she soon forgot 
 the cheap slippers, mended gloves, and old dress, as 
 she gayly led her troop through the pretty dance with 
 so much grace and skill that the admiring mammas 
 who lined the walls declared it was the sweetest thing 
 they ever saw. 
 
She gayly led her troop thi-Qugh the pretty dance 
 
AN IVY SPRAY AND LADIES* SLIPPERS. 51 
 
 " Who is that little person 1 " asked one of the few 
 gentlemen who hovered about the doorways. 
 
 His hostess told Jessie's story in a few words, and 
 was surprised to hear him say in a satisfied tone, — 
 
 " I 'm glad she is poor. I want her head, and now 
 there is some chance of getting it." 
 
 " My dear Mr. Vane, what do you mean 1 " asked 
 the lady, laughing. 
 
 "I came to study young faces; I want one for a 
 picture, and that little girl with the red leaves is 
 charming. Please present me." 
 
 " No use ; you may ask for her hand by-and-by, if 
 you like, but not for her head. She is very proud, 
 and never would consent to sit as a model, I 'm 
 sure." 
 
 " I think I can manage it, if you will kindly give 
 me a start." 
 
 " Very well. The children are jiist going down to 
 supper, and Miss Delano will rest. You can make 
 your bold proposal now, if you dare." 
 
 A moment later, as she stood watching the little 
 ones troop away, Jessie found herself bowing to the 
 tall gentleman, who begged to know what he could 
 bring her with as much interest as if she had been 
 the finest lady in the room. Of course she chose ice- 
 cream, and slipped into a corner to rest her tired feet, 
 preferring the deserted parlor to the noisy dining- 
 room, — not being quite sure where she belonged 
 now. 
 
 Mr. Vane brought her a salver full of the dainties 
 girls best love, and drawing up a table began to eat 
 
52 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 and talk in such a simple, comfortable way that Jessie 
 could not feel shy, but was soon quite at her ease. 
 She knew that he was a famous artist, and longed to 
 tell him about poor Laura, who admired his pictures 
 so much and would have enjoyed every moment of 
 this chance interview. He was not a very young 
 man, nor a handsome one, but he had a genial face, 
 and the friendly manners which are so charming ; and 
 in ten minutes Jessie was chatting freely, quite imcon- 
 scious that the artist was studying her in a mirror all 
 the while. They naturally talked of the children, and 
 after praising the pretty dance Mr. Vane quietly 
 added, — 
 
 " I 've been trying to find a face among them for a 
 picture I 'm doing ; but the little dears are all too 
 young, and I must look elsewhere for a model for my 
 wood-nymph." 
 
 "Are models hard to findV asked Jessie, eating 
 her ice with the relish of a girl who does not often 
 taste it. 
 
 "What I want is very hard to find. I can get 
 j)lenty of beggar-girls, but this must be a refined face, 
 young and blooming, but with poetry in it ; and that 
 does not come without a different training from any 
 my usual models get. It will be difficult to suit me, 
 for I 'm in a hurry and don't know where to look," — 
 which last sentence was not quite true, for the long 
 glass showed him exactly what he wanted. 
 
 " I help Mademoiselle with her classes, and she 
 has pupils of all ages ; perhaps you could find some 
 one there." 
 
AN IVY SPRAY AND LADIES' SLIPPERS. 53 
 
 Jessie looked so interested that the artist felt that 
 he had begun well, and ventured a step further as he 
 passed the cake-basket for the third time. 
 
 " You are very kind ; but the trouble there is, that 
 I fear none of the young ladies would consent to sit to 
 me if I dared to ask them. I will confide to you 
 that I have seen a head which quite suits me ; but I 
 fear I cannot get it. Give me your advice, please. 
 Should you think this pretty creature would be of- 
 fended, if I made the request most respectfully % " 
 
 " No, indeed ; I should think she would be proud 
 to help with one of your pictures, sir. My sister 
 thinks they are very lovely ; and we kept one of them 
 when we had to seU all the rest," said Jessie, in her 
 eager, frank way. 
 
 " That was a beautiful compliment, and I am proud 
 of it. Please tell her so, with my thanks. Which 
 was itl" 
 
 " The woman's head, — the sad, sweet one people call 
 a Madonna. We call it Mother, and love it very much, 
 for Laura says it is like our mother. I never saw her, 
 but my sister remembers the dear face very well." 
 
 Jessie's eyes dropped, as if tears were near; and 
 Mr. Vane said, in a voice which showed he understood 
 and shared her feeling, — 
 
 " I am very glad that anything of mine has been a 
 comfort to you. I thought of ray own mother when I 
 painted that picture years ago ; so you see you read it 
 truly, and gave it the right name. Now, about the 
 other head ; you think I may venture to propose the 
 idea to its owner, do you ] " 
 
54 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 " Why not, sir 1 She would be very silly to refuse, 
 I think." 
 
 " Then t/ou would n't be offended if asked to sit in 
 this way 1 " 
 
 " Oh, no. I 've sat for Laura many a time, and 
 she says I make a very good model. But then, she 
 only paints simple little things that I am fit for." 
 
 "That is just what I want to do. Would you 
 mind asking the young lady for me 1 She is just 
 behind you." 
 
 Jessie turned with a start, wondering who had 
 come in ; but all she saw was her own curious face" in 
 the mirror, and Mr. Vane's smiling one above it. 
 
 " Do you mean me 1 " she cried, so surprised and 
 pleased and half ashamed that she could only blush 
 and laugh and look prettier than ever. 
 
 " Indeed I do. Mrs. Murray thought the request 
 would annoy you ; but I fancied you would grant it, 
 you wore such a graceful little garland, and seemed so 
 interested in the pictures here." 
 
 "It is only a bit of ivy, but so pretty I wanted to 
 wear it, as I had nothing else," said the girl, glad 
 that her simple ornament found favor in such eyes. 
 
 " It is most artistic, and caught my eye at once, 
 I said to myself, 'That is the head I want, and I 
 must secure it if possible.' Can I ■?" asked Mr. Vane, 
 smiling persuasively as he saw what a frank and ai't- 
 less young person he had to deal with. 
 
 "With pleasure, if Laura doesn't mind. I'll ask 
 her, and if she is willing I shall be very proud to have 
 even my wreath in a famous picture," answered Jessie, 
 
AN IVY SPRAY AND LADIES' SLIPPERS. 55 
 
 80 full of innocent delight at being thus honored that 
 it was a pretty sight to see. 
 
 " A thousand thanks ! Now I can exult over Mrs. 
 Murray, and get my palette ready. When can we 
 begin 1 As your sister is an invalid and cannot come 
 to my studio with yovi, perhaps you will allow me to 
 make my sketch at your own house," said Mr. Vane, 
 as pleased with his success as only a perplexed artist 
 could be. 
 
 " Did Mrs. Murray tell you about us 1 " asked Jessie 
 quickly, as her smiles faded away and the proud look 
 came into her face ; for she was sure their misfortunes 
 were known, since he spoke of poor Laura's health. 
 
 " A little," began the new friend, with a sympa- 
 thetic glance. 
 
 " I know models are paid for sitting ; did you wish 
 to do it with me because I 'm poor 1 " asked Jessie- 
 with an irrepressible frown and a glance at the thrice, 
 cleaned dress and the neatly mended gloves. 
 
 Mr. Vane knew what thorn pricked the sensitive 
 little girl, and answered in his friendliest tone, — 
 
 " I never thought of such a thing. I wanted ?/ou 
 to help me, because I am poor in what artists so much 
 need, — real grace and beauty. I hoped you would 
 allow me to give your sister a copy of the sketch as a 
 token of my gratitude for your great kindness." 
 
 Tlie frown vanished and the smile returned as the 
 soft answer turned away Jessie's wrath and made her 
 hasten to say penitently, — 
 
 " I was very rude ; but I have n't learned to be 
 humble yet, and often forget that I am poor. Please 
 
56 A GAEL AND FOR GIELS. 
 
 come to us any time. Laura will enjoy seeing you 
 work, and be delighted with anything you give her. 
 So shall I, though I don't deserve it." 
 
 " I won't punish you by painting the frown that 
 quite frightened me just now, but do my best to keep 
 the happy face, and so heap coals of fire on your head. 
 They won't burn any more than the pretty red leaves 
 that bi'ought me this good fortune," answered the 
 artist, seeing that his peace was made. 
 
 " I 'm so glad I wore them ! " and as if trying to 
 make amends for her little flash of temper, Jessie told 
 him about the ivy, and how she loved it, — uncon- 
 sciously betraying more of her pathetic little story 
 than she knew, and increasing her hearer's interest 
 in his new model. 
 
 The children came back in riotous spirits, and Jessie 
 was called to lead the revels again. But now her 
 heart was as light as her heels ; for she had something 
 pleasant to think of, — a hope of help for Laura, and 
 the memory of kind words to make hard duties easier. 
 Mr. Vane soon slipped away, promising to come the 
 next day ; and at eight o'clock Jessie ran home to tell 
 her sister the good news, and to press the little 
 wreath which had served her so well. 
 
 With the sanguine spirit of girlhood, she felt sure 
 that something delightful would happen, and built 
 fine castles in the air for her sister, with a small cor- 
 ner for herself, where she could watch Laura bloom 
 into a healthy woman and a great artist. The desire of 
 Jessie's heart was to earn enough money to enable them 
 to spend a month or two at the seashore when summer 
 
AN IVY SPEAY AND LADIES' SLIPPERS. 57 
 
 came, as that was the surest cure for Laura's weak 
 nerves and muscles. She had cherished the wild idea 
 of being a ballet-girl, as dancing was her delight ; 
 but every one frowned upon that plan, and her own 
 refined nature told her that it was not the life for a 
 young girl. Mr. Vane's request for her head sug- 
 gested a splendid hope ; and after getting angry with 
 him for hinting at her being a model, she suddenly 
 decided to try it, — with the charming inconsistency 
 of her sex. The more she thought of it, the better 
 she liked the idea, and resolved to ask her new friend 
 all about it, fondly hoping that much money could be 
 made in this way. 
 
 She said nothing to her sister, but while she sat 
 patiently to Mr. Vane when he came next day, she 
 asked many questions ; and though somewhat dis- 
 couraged by his replies, confided to him her hopes 
 and begged his advice. Being a wise man as well as 
 a good and kindly one, he saw at once that this 
 life would not be safe for the pretty, impulsive, and 
 tenderly reared girl, left so unprotected in a world 
 full of trials and temptations. So he told her it 
 would not do, except so far as she would allow him to 
 make several studies of her head in various characters 
 and pay for them. 
 
 She consented, and though much disappointed 
 found some consolation in hoarding a part of the 
 handsome sum so earned for the desii'e of her heart. 
 
 The artist seemed in no haste to finish his work, 
 and for some weeks came often to the sittings in that 
 quiet room; for it grew more and more attractive to 
 
58 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 him, and while he painted the younger sister's change- 
 ful face he studied the beautiful nature of the elder 
 and learned to love it. But no one guessed that 
 secret for a long time ; and Jessie was so busy rack- 
 ing her brain for a way to earn more money that she 
 was as blind and deaf to much that went on before 
 her as if she had been a wooden dummy. 
 
 Suddenly, when she least expected it, help came, 
 and in such a delightful way that she long remem- 
 bered the little episode with girlish satisfaction. One 
 day as she sat wearily waiting till the dressing-room 
 was cleared of maids and children after the dancing- 
 class was over, a former friend came sauntering up to 
 her, saying in the tone which always nettled Jessie, — 
 
 "You poor thing! aren't you tired to death try- 
 ing to teach these stupid babies 1 " 
 
 " No ; I love to dance, and we had new figures to- 
 day. See ! is n't this pretty 1 " and Jessie, who knew 
 her own skill and loved to display it, twirled away as 
 lightly as if her feet were not aching with two hours 
 of hard work. 
 
 " Lovely ! I do wish I ever could learn to keep 
 time and not jerk and bounce. Being plump is a 
 dreadful trial," sighed Fanny Fletcher, as Jessie came 
 back beaming and breathless. 
 
 " Perhaps I can teach you. I think of making this 
 my profession since I must do something. Mademoi- 
 selle earns heaps of money by it," she said, sitting 
 down to rest, resolved not to be ashamed of her work 
 or to let Fanny pity her. 
 
 " I wish you could teach me, for I know I shall dis- 
 
AN IVY SPRAY AND LADIES' SLIPPERS. 59 
 
 grace myself at the Kirmess. You 've heard about it, 
 of course 1 So sorry you can't take a part, for it 's 
 going to be great fun and very splendid. I am in the 
 Hungarian dance, and it 's one of the hardest ; but 
 the dress is lovely, and I would be in it. Mamma 
 is the matron of it ; so I had my way, though I know 
 the girls don't want me, and the boys make fun of 
 me. Just see if this is n't the queerest step you ever 
 beheld ! " 
 
 Fanny started bravely across the wide smooth floor, 
 with a stamp, a slide, and a twirl which was certainly 
 odd, but might have been lively and graceful if she had 
 not unfortunately been a very plump, awkward girl, with 
 no more elasticity than a feather-bed. Jessie found it 
 impossible not to laugh when Fanny ended her dis- 
 play with a sprawl upon the floor, and sat rubbing her 
 elbows in an attitude of despair. 
 
 " I know that dance ! It is the tzardas, and I can 
 show you how it should be done. Jump up and try 
 it with me ! " she said good-naturedly, running to help 
 her friend up, glad to have a partner of her own size 
 for once. 
 
 Away they went, but soon stopped ; for Fanny could 
 not keep step, and Jessie pulled and stamped and 
 hummed in vain. 
 
 " Do it alone ; then I can see how it goes, and man- 
 age better next time," panted the poor girl, dropping 
 down upon the velvet seat which ran round the hall. 
 
 Mademoiselle had come in and watched them for a 
 moment. She saw at once what was needed, and as 
 Mrs. Fletcher was one of her best patrons, she was 
 
60 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 glad to oblige the oldest daughter ; so she went to the 
 piano and struck up the proper air just as Jessie, with 
 one arna on her hip, the other on the shoulder of an 
 invisible partner, went down the hall with a martial 
 stamp, a quick slide, and a graceful turn, in perfect 
 time to the stirring music that made her nerves tingle 
 and her feet fly. To and fro, round and round, with 
 all manner of graceful gestures, intricate steps, and ac- 
 tive bounds went the happy girl, quite carried away by 
 the music and motion of the pastime she loved so much. 
 
 Fanny clapped her hands with admiration, and 
 Mademoiselle cried, "Bien, tres bien, charmaute, ma 
 cherie ! " as she paused at last, rosy and smiling, with 
 one hand on her heart and the other at her temple 
 with the salute that closed the dance. 
 
 '' I must learn it ! Do come and give me lessons at 
 our house. I called for Maud and must go now. Will 
 you come, Jessie 1 I '11 be glad to pay you if you don't 
 mind. I hate to be laughed at ; and I know if some 
 one would just help me alone I should do as well as 
 the rest, for Professor Ludwig raves at us all." 
 
 Fanny seemed in such a sad strait, and Jessie sym- 
 pathized so heartily with her, that she could not re- 
 fuse a request which flattered her vanity and tempted 
 her with a prospect of some addition to the " Sister- 
 fund," as she called her little savings. So she gra- 
 ciously consented, and after a few laborious lessons 
 prospered so well that her grateful pupil proposed to 
 several other unsuccessful dancers in the set to invite 
 Jessie to the private rehearsals held in various parlors 
 as the festival drew near. 
 
AN IVY SPRAY AND LADIES' SLIPPEES. 61 
 
 Some of these young people knew Jessie Delano, 
 had missed the bright girl, and gladly welcomed her 
 back when, after much persuasion, she agreed to go 
 and help them with the difficult figures of the tzardas. 
 Once among them she felt in her element, and trained 
 the awkward squad so well that Professor Ludwig com- 
 plimented them on their improvement at the public re- 
 hearsals, and raved no more, to the great delight of the 
 timid damsels, who lost their wits when the fiery little 
 man shouted and wrung his hands over their mistakes. 
 
 The young gentlemen needed help also, as several 
 of them looked very much like galvanized grasshop- 
 pers in their efforts to manage long legs or awkward 
 elbows. Jessie willingly danced with them, and showed 
 them how to move with grace and spirit, and handle 
 their partners less like dolls and more like peasant 
 maidens with whom the martial Hungarians were 
 supposed to be disporting themselves at the fair. 
 Merry meetings were these; and all enjoyed them, as 
 young people do whatever is lively, dramatic, and 
 social. Every one was full of the brilliant Kirmess, 
 which was the talk of the city, and to which every 
 one intended to go as actor or spectator. Jessie was 
 sadly tempted to spend three of her cherished dollars 
 for a ticket, and perhaps would have done so if there 
 had been any one to take care of her. Laura conld 
 not go, and Mr. Vane was away ; no other friend ap- 
 peared, and no one remembered to invite her, so she 
 bravely hid her girlish longing, and got all the pleasure 
 out of the rehearsals that she could. 
 
 At the last of these, which was a full-dress affair 
 
62 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 at Fanny's house, something happened which not 
 only tried Jessie's temper sorely, but brought her a 
 reward for many small sacrifices. So much dancing 
 was very hard upon her slippers, the new pair were 
 worn out long ago, and a second pair were in a danger- 
 ous condition ; but Jessie hoped that they would last 
 that evening, and then she would indulge in better 
 ones with what Fanny would pay her. She hated to 
 take it, but her salary at Mademoiselle's was needed 
 at home ; all she could spare from other sources was 
 sacredly kept for Lam'a's jaunt, and only now and 
 then did the good little girl buy some very necessary 
 article for herself. She was learning to be humble, to 
 love work, and be grateful for her small wages for her 
 sister's sake ; and while she hid her trials, withstood 
 her temptations, and bravely tugged away at her hard 
 tasks, the kind Providence, who teaches us the sweet- 
 ness of adversity, was preparing a more beautiful and 
 helpful surprise than any she could plan or execute. 
 
 That night all were much excited, and great was 
 the energy displayed as the scarlet, blue, and silver 
 couples went through the rapid figures with vmusual 
 spirit and success. The brass-heeled boots stamped in 
 perfect time, the furred caps waved, and the braided 
 jackets glittered as the gay trooj) swung to and fro or 
 marched to the barbaric music of an impromptii band. 
 Jessie looked on with such longing in her eyes that 
 Fanny, who was ill with a bad cold, kindly begged her 
 to take her place, as motion made her cough, and put- 
 ting on the red and silver cap sent her joyfully away 
 to lead them all. 
 
AN IVY SPRAY AND LADIES' SLIPPERS 63 
 
 The fun grew rather fast and furious toward the 
 end, and when the dance broke up there lay in the 
 middle of the floor a shabby little slipper, burst at 
 the side, trodden down at the heel, and utterly de- 
 moralized as to the bow with a broken buckle in it. 
 Such a disreputable little shoe was it that no one 
 claimed it when one of the young men held it up on 
 the point of his sword, exclaiming gayly, — 
 
 "Where is Cinderella'? Here's her shoe, and it's 
 quite time she had a new pair. Glass evidently 
 does n't wear well now-a-days." 
 
 They all laughed and looked about to find the shoe- 
 less foot. The girls with small feet displayed them 
 readily ; those less blessed hid them at once, and no 
 Cinderella appeared to claim the old slipper. Jessie 
 turned as red as her cap, and glanced imploringly at 
 Fanny as she slipped through a convenient door and 
 flew up-stairs, knowing that in a moment all would 
 see that it must be hers, since the other girls wore red 
 boots as a part of their costume. 
 
 Fanny understood ; and though awkward and slow 
 with her feet, she was kind-hearted and quick to spare 
 her friend the mortification which a poor and proud 
 girl could not help feeling at such a moment. The 
 unfortunate slipper was flying from hand to hand as 
 the youths indulged in a boyish game of ball to 
 tease the laughing girls, who hastened to disclaim all 
 knowledge of "the horrid thing." 
 
 " Please give it to me ! " cried Fanny, trying to 
 catch it, and glad Jessie was safe. 
 
 " No ; Cinderella must come and put it on. Here 's 
 
64 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 the Prince all ready to help her," said the finder of 
 the shoe, holding it up. 
 
 " And here are lots of proud sisters ready to cut off 
 their toes and heels if they could only get on such a 
 small slipper," added another young Mygar, enjoying 
 the fun immensely. 
 
 " Listen, and let me tell you something. It 's Jes- 
 sie Delano's, and she has run away because she lost it. 
 Don't laugh and make fun of it, because it was worn 
 out in helping us. You all know what a hard time 
 she has had, but you don't know how good and brave 
 and patient she is, trying to help poor Laura and to 
 earn her living. I asked her to teach me, and I shall 
 pay her well for it, because I could n't have gone on 
 if she had n't. If any of you feel as grateful as I do, 
 and as sorry for her, you can show it in any kind way 
 you please, for it must be dreadful to be so poor." 
 
 Fanny had spoken quickly, and at the last words 
 hid the tremble in her voice with a cough, being rather 
 scared at what she had done on the impulse of the 
 moment. But it was a true impulse, and the generous 
 young hearts were quick to answer it. The old slip- 
 l^er was respectfully handed to her with many apolo- 
 gies and various penitent suggestions. None were 
 adopted just then, however, for Fanny ran off to find 
 Jessie with her things on waiting for a chance to slip 
 away unseen. No persuasions would keep her to sup- 
 per ; and at last, with many thanks, she was allowed 
 to go, while Fanny returned to lay plans with her 
 guests as they disturbed their digestions with lobster 
 salad, ice-cream, and strong coffee. 
 
AN IVY SPRAY AND LADIES' SLIPPERS. 65 
 
 Feeling more than ever like Cinderella as she hur- 
 ried out into the winter night, leaving all the good 
 times behind her, Jessie stood waiting for a car on the 
 windy street-corner, with the ragged slippers under her 
 arm, tears of weariness and vexation in her eyes, and 
 a resentful feeling against an unjust fate lying heavy 
 at her heart. The glimpses of her old gay, easy life, 
 which these rehearsals had given her, made the real 
 hardship and loneliness of her present life all the more 
 irksome, and that night she felt as if she could not 
 bear it much longer. She longed with all a girl's love 
 of gayety to go to the Kirmess, and no one thought 
 to invite her. She could not go alone even if she 
 yielded to temptation and spent her own money. 
 Laura would have to hire a carriage if she ventured 
 to try it ; so it was impossible, for six or seven dollars 
 was a fortune to the poor girls now. To have been 
 one of the happy creatures who were to take part in 
 it, to dance on the green in a dainty costume to the 
 music of a full band, — to see and do and enjoy all the 
 delights of those two enchanting evenings, would have 
 filled Jessie's cup to overflowing. But since she might 
 as well cry for the moon she tried to get some comfort 
 out of imagining it all as she rumbled home in a snow- 
 storm, and cried herself to sleep after giving Laura 
 a cheerful account of the rehearsal, omitting the 
 catastrophe. 
 
 The sun shone next morning, hope woke again, and 
 as she dressed Jessie sung to keep her heart up, still 
 trusting that some one would remember her before 
 the day was over. As she opened her windows the 
 
 (446) 5 
 
66 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 sparrows welcomed her with shrill chirpings, and the 
 sun turned the snow-covered vine to a glittering net- 
 work very beautiful to see as it hung like a veil of 
 lace over the dingy wall. Jessie smiled as she saw it, 
 while taking a long breath of the keen air, feeling 
 cheered and refreshed by these familiar comforters ; 
 then with a brave, bright glance up at the clear blue 
 sky she went away to the day's duties, little guessing 
 what pleasant surprises were on their way to reward 
 her for the little sacrifices which were teaching her 
 strength, patience, and courage for greater ones by- 
 and-by. 
 
 All the morning she listened eagerly for the bell, 
 but nothing came ; and at two o'clock she went away 
 to the dancing-class, saying to herself with a sigh, — 
 
 " Every one is so busy, it is no wonder I 'm for- 
 gotten. I shall hear about the fun in the papers, and 
 try to be contented with that." 
 
 Though she never felt less like dancing, she was 
 very patient with her little pupils, and when the 
 lesson was over sat resting a moment, with her head 
 still full of the glories of the Kirmess. Suddenly 
 Mademoiselle came to her, and in a few kind words 
 gave her the first of the pleasant surprises by offering 
 her a larger salary, an older class, and many commen- 
 dations for her skill and faithfulness. Of course she 
 gratefully accepted the welcome offer, and hurried 
 home to tell Laura, forgetting her heavy heart, tired 
 feet, and disappointed hopes. 
 
 At her own door the second surprise stood waiting 
 for her, in the person of Mrs. Fletcher's servant with 
 
AN IVY SPRAY AND LADIES' SLIPPERS. 67 
 
 a large box and a note from Miss Fanny. How she 
 ever got herself and her parcel up the long stairs 
 Jessie never knew, she was in such a frantic hurry to 
 see what that vast box could contain. She startled 
 her sister by bursting into the room breathless, flushed, 
 and beaming, with the mysterious cry of, — 
 
 " Scissors ! quick, the scissors ! " 
 
 Off went cords and papers, up flew the cover, and 
 with a shriek of rapture Jessie saw the well-known 
 Hungarian costume lying there before her. What it 
 all meant she could not guess, till she tore open the 
 note and read these delightful words : — 
 
 Dear Jess, — My cold is worse, and the doctor won't 
 let me go to-night. Is n't it dreadful ? Our dance will be 
 ruined unless you will take my place. I know you will to 
 oblige us, and have a lovely time. Every one will be glad, 
 you do it so much better than I can. My dress will fit 
 you, with tucks and reefs here and there; and the boots 
 won't be much too large, for though I 'm fat I have small 
 feet, thank goodness ! Mamma will call for you at seven, 
 and bring you safely home; and you must come early 
 to-morrow and tell me all about it. 
 
 In the small box you will find a little token of our 
 gratitude to you for your kindness in helping us all so 
 much. 
 
 Yours ever. Fan. 
 
 As soon as Jessie could get her breath and recover 
 from this first delightful shock, she opened the dainty 
 parcel carefully tied up with pink ribbons. It proved 
 to be a crystal slipper, apparently full of rosebuds ; 
 but under the flowers lay five-and-twenty shining gold 
 
68 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 dollars. A little card with these words was tucked in 
 one corner, as if, with all their devices to make the 
 offering as delicate and pretty as possible, the givers 
 feared to offend : — 
 
 " We return to our dear Princess the glass slipper which 
 she lost at the ball, full of thanks and good wishes." 
 
 If the kind young persons who sent the fanciful 
 gift could have seen how it was received, their doubts 
 would soon have been set at rest ; for Jessie laughed 
 and cried as she told the story, counted the precious 
 coins, and filled the pretty shoe with water that the 
 buds might keep fresh for Laura. Then, while the nee- 
 dles flew and the gay garments were fitted, the happy 
 voices talked and the sisters rejoiced together over this 
 unexpected pleasure as only loving girls could do. 
 
 " The sweetest part of all the splendid surprise is 
 that they remembered me just at the busiest time, 
 and thanked me in such a lovely way. I shall keep 
 that glass slipper all my life, if I can, to remind me 
 not to despair ; for just when everything seemed 
 darkest, all this good luck came," said Jessie, with 
 ecstatic skips as she clanked the brass heels of her 
 boots and thought of the proud moment when she 
 would join in the tzardas before all Boston. 
 
 Gentle Laura rejoiced and sympathized heartily, 
 sewed like a busy bee, and sent her happy sister away 
 at seven o'clock with her sweetest smile, never letting 
 her suspect what tender hopes and fears were hidden 
 in her own heart, what longing and disappointment 
 made her days doubly sad and lonely, or how very 
 
AN IVY SPEAY AND LADIES' SLIPPERS. 69 
 
 poor a consolation all the glories of the Kirmess would 
 be for the loss of a friend who had grown very near 
 and dear to her. 
 
 No need to tell the raptures of that evening to 
 little Jessie, who enjoyed every moment, played her 
 part well, and was brought home at midnight ready 
 to begin all over again, so inexhaustible is youth's 
 appetite for pleasure. 
 
 To her great surprise, Laura was up and waiting 
 to welcome her, with a face so full of a new and 
 lovely happiness that Jessie guessed at once some 
 good fortune had come to her also. Yes, Laura's 
 well-earned reward and beautiful surprise had arrived 
 at last ; and she told it all in a few words as she held 
 out her arms exclaiming, — 
 
 " He has come back ! He loves me, and I am so 
 happy ! Dear little sister, all your hard times are 
 over now, and you shall have a home again." 
 
 So the dreams came true, as they sometimes do 
 even in this work-a-day world of ours, when the dream- 
 ers strive as well as hope, and earn their rewards. 
 
 Laura had a restful summer at the seaside, with a 
 stronger arm than Jessie's to lean upon, and more 
 magical medicine to help her back to health than 
 any mortal doctor could prescribe. Jessie danced 
 again with a light heart, — for pleasure, not for pay, — 
 and found the new life all the sweeter for the trials of 
 the old one. In the autumn there was a quiet wed- 
 ding, before three very happy people sailed away to 
 Italy, the artist's heaven on earth. 
 
70 A GARLAND FOE GIELS. 
 
 " No roses for me," said Jessie, smiling at herself 
 in the mirror as she fastened a spray of rosy ivy- 
 leaves in the bosom of her fresh white gown that 
 October morning. " I '11 be true to my old friend ; 
 for it helped me in my dark days, and now it shall 
 rejoice with me in my bright ones, and go on teaching 
 me to climb bravely and patiently toward the light." 
 
PANSIES. 
 
 They are never alone that are accompanied with noble 
 thoughts. — Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 " I 'VE finished my book, and now what can I do till 
 this tiresome rain is over 1 " exclaimed Carrie, as she 
 lay back on the couch with a yawn of weariness. 
 
 "Take another and a better book; the house is full 
 of them, and this is a rare chance for a feast on the 
 best," answered Alice, looking over the pile of volumes 
 in her lap, as she sat on the floor before one of the tall 
 book-cases that lined the room. 
 
 " Not being a book-worm like you, I can't read 
 forever, and you need n't sniff" at ' Wanda,' for it 's 
 perfectly thrilling ! " cried Carrie, regretfully turning 
 the crumpled leaves of the Seaside Library copy of 
 that interminable and impossible tale. 
 
 " We should read to improve our minds, and that 
 rubbish is only a waste of time," began Alice, in a 
 warning tone, as she looked up from "Eomola," over 
 which she had been poring with the delight one feels 
 in meeting an old friend. 
 
 " I don't wish to improve my mind, thank you : I 
 read for amusement in vacation time, and don't want 
 to see any moral works till next autumn. I get enough 
 
72 A GAELAND FOE GIELS. 
 
 of them in school. This is n't ' ruhbish ' ! It 's full of 
 fine descriptions of scenery — " 
 
 "Which you skip by the page, I've seen you do it," 
 said Eva, the third young girl in the library, as she 
 shut up the stout book on her knee and began to knit 
 as if this sudden outburst of chat disturbed her enjoy- 
 ment of " The Dove in the Eagle's Nest." 
 
 " I do at first, being carried away by my interest in 
 the people, but I almost always go back and read them 
 afterward," protested Carrie. " You know you like to 
 hear about nice clothes, Eva, and Wanda's were simply 
 gorgeous ; white velvet and a rope of pearls is one cos- 
 tume ; gray velvet and a silver girdle another ; and 
 Idalia was all a ' shower of perfumed laces,' and scarlet 
 and gold satin mask dresses, or primrose silk with 
 violets, so lovely ! I do revel in 'em ! " 
 
 Both girls laughed as Carrie reeled off this list of 
 elegances, with the relish of a French modiste. 
 
 " Well, I 'm poor and can't have as many pretty 
 things as I want, so it is delightful to read about 
 women who wear white quilted satin dressing-gowns 
 and olive velvet trains with Mechlin lace sweepers to 
 them. Diamonds as large as nuts, and rivers of opals 
 and sapphires, and rubies and pearls, are gi'eat fun to 
 read of, if you never even get a look at real ones. I 
 don't believe the love part does me a bit of harm, for 
 we never see such languid swells in America, nor such 
 lovely, naughty ladies ; and Ouida scolds them all, so 
 of course she does n't approve of them, and that 's 
 moral, I 'm sure." 
 
 But Alice shook her head again, as Carrie paused, 
 
PANSIES. 73 
 
 out of breath, and said in her serious way : " That 's 
 the harm of it all. False and foolish things are made 
 interesting, and we read for that, not for any lesson 
 there may be hidden under the velvet and jewels and 
 fine words of your splendid men and women. N^ow, 
 this book is a wonderful picture of Florence in old times, 
 and the famous people who really lived are painted in 
 it, and it has a true and clean moral that we can all 
 see, and one feels wiser and better for reading it. I do 
 wish you 'd leave those trashy things and try something 
 really good," 
 
 " I hate George Eliot, — so awfully wise and preachy 
 and dismal ! I really could n't wade through ' Daniel 
 Deronda,' though ' The Mill on the Floss ' was n't 
 bad," answered Carrie, with another yawn, as she re- 
 called the Jew Mordecai's long speeches, and Daniel's 
 meditations. 
 
 " I know you 'd like this," said Eva, patting her 
 book with an air of calm content ; for she was a modest, 
 common-sense little body, full of innocent fancies and 
 the mildest sort of romance. " I love dear Miss Yonge, 
 with her nice, large families, and their trials, and their 
 pious ways, and pleasant homes full of brothers and 
 sisters, and good fathers and mothers. I 'm never tired 
 of them, and have read ' Daisy Chain ' nine times at 
 least." 
 
 " I used to like them, and still think them good for 
 young girls, with our own 'Queechy' and 'Wide, Wide 
 World,' and books of that kind. Now I 'm eighteen 
 I prefer stronger novels, and books by great men and 
 women, because these are always talked about by cul- 
 
74 A. GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 tivated people, and when I go into society next winter 
 I wish to be able to listen intelligently, and know what 
 to admire." 
 
 " That 's all very well for you, Alice ; you were 
 always poking over books, and I dare say you will 
 write them some day, or be a blue-stocking. But 
 I 've got another year to study and fuss over my 
 education, and I 'm going to enjoy myself all I can, 
 and leave the wise books till I come out." 
 
 " But, Carrie, there won't be any time to read them ; 
 you '11 be so busy with parties, and beaux, and travel- 
 ling, and such things. I would take Alice's advice and 
 read up a little now : it 's so nice to know useful things, 
 and be able to find help and comfort in good books 
 when trouble comes, as Ellen Montgomery and Fleda 
 did, and Ethel, and the other girls in Miss Yonge's 
 stories," said Eva, earnestly, remembering how much 
 the efforts of those natural little heroines had helped 
 her in her own struggles for self-control and the 
 cheerful hearing of the burdens which come to all, 
 
 " I don't want to be a priggish Ellen, or a moral 
 Fleda, and I do detest bothering about self-improve- 
 ment all the time. I know I ought, but I 'd rather 
 wait another year or two, and enjoy my vanities in 
 peace just a little longer." And Carrie tucked Wanda 
 under the sofa pillow, as if a trifle ashamed of her 
 society, with Eva's innocent eyes upon her own, and 
 Alice sadly regarding her over the rampart of wise 
 books, which kept growing higher as the eager girl 
 found more and more treasures in this richly stored 
 library. 
 
PANSIES. 75 
 
 A little silence followed, broken only by the patter 
 of the rain without, the crackle of the wood fire within, 
 and the scratch of a busy pen from a curtained recess 
 at the end of the long room. In the sudden hush the 
 girls heard it and remembered that they were not 
 alone. 
 
 " She must have heard every word we said ! " and 
 Carrie sat up with a dismayed face as she spoke in a 
 whisper. 
 
 Eva laughed, but Alice shrugged her shoulders, and 
 said tranquilly, " I don't mind. She would n't expect 
 much wisdom from school-girls." 
 
 This was cold comfort to Carrie, who was painfully 
 conscious of having been a particularly silly school-girl 
 just then. So she gave a groan and lay down again, 
 wishing she had not expressed her views quite so freely, 
 and had kept Wanda for the privacy of her own room. 
 
 The three girls were the guests of a delightful old 
 lady, who had known their mothers and was fond of 
 renewing her acquaintance with them through their 
 daughters. She loved young people, and each summer 
 invited parties of them to enjoy the delights of her 
 beautiful country house, where she lived alone now, 
 being the childless widow of a somewhat celebrated 
 man. She made it very pleasant for her guests, leav- 
 ing them free to employ a part of the day as they 
 liked, providing the best of company at dinner, gay 
 revels in the evening, and a large house full of curious 
 and interesting things to examine at their leisure. 
 
 The rain had spoiled a pleasant plan, and business 
 letters had made it necessary for Mrs. Warburton to 
 
76 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS, 
 
 leave the three to their own devices after lunch. They 
 had read quietly for several hours, and their hostess 
 was just finishing her last letter when fragments of 
 the conversation reached her ear. She listened with 
 amusement, unconscious that they had forgotten her 
 presence, finding the diff"erent views very characteristic, 
 and easily explained by the difference of the homes 
 out of which the three friends came. 
 
 Alice was the only daughter of a scholarly man and 
 a brilliant woman ; therefore her love of books and de- 
 sire to cultivate her mind was very natural, but the 
 danger in her case would be in the neglect of other 
 things equally important, too varied reading, and a 
 superficial knowledge of many authors rather than a 
 true appreciation of a few of the best and greatest. 
 Eva was one of many children in a happy home, with 
 a busy father, a pious mother, and many domestic cares, 
 as well as joys, already falling to the dutiful girl's lot. 
 Her instincts -were sweet and unspoiled, and she only 
 needed to be shown where to find new and better helpers 
 for the real trials of life, when the childish heroines 
 she loved could no longer serve her in the years to 
 come. 
 
 Carrie was one of the ambitious yet commonplace 
 girls who wish to shine, without knowing the difference 
 between the glitter of a candle which attracts moths, 
 and the serene light of a star, or the cheery glow of a 
 fire round which all love to gather. Her mother's 
 aims were not high, and the two pretty daughters knew 
 that she desired good matches for them, educated them 
 for that end, and expected them to do their parts when 
 
PANSIES. 77 
 
 the time came. The elder sister was now at a water- 
 ing-place with her mother, and Carrie hoped that a 
 letter would soon come telling her that Mary was set- 
 tled. During her stay with Mrs. Warburton she had 
 learned a good deal, and was unconsciously contrasting 
 the life here with the frivolous one at home, made up 
 of public show and private sacrifice of comfort, dignity, 
 and peace. Here were people who dressed simply, 
 enjoyed conversation, kept up their accomplishments 
 even when old, and were so busy, lovable, and charm- 
 ing, that poor Carrie often felt vulgar, ignorant, and 
 mortified among them, in spite of their fine breeding 
 and kindliness. The society Mrs. "Warburton drew 
 about her was the best, and old and young, rich and 
 poor, wise and simple, all seemed genuine, — glad to 
 give or receive, enjoy and rest, and then go out to 
 their work refreshed by the influences of the place 
 and the sweet old lady who made it what it was. 
 The girls would soon begin life for themselves, and it 
 was well that they had this little glimpse of really 
 good society before they left the shelter of home to 
 choose friends, pleasures, and pursuits for themselves, 
 as all young women do when once launched. 
 
 The sudden silence and then the whispers suggested 
 to the listener that she had perhaps heax'd something 
 not meant for her ear ; so slie presently emerged with 
 her letters, and said, as she came smiling toward the 
 group about the fire, — 
 
 " How are you getting through this long, dull after- 
 noon, my dears 1 Quiet as mice till just now. What 
 woke you up ] A battle of the books ] Alice looks 
 
78 A GAKLAND FOE GIRLS. 
 
 as if she had laid in plenty of ammunition, and you 
 were preparing to besiege her." 
 
 The girls laughed, and all rose, for Madam War- 
 burton was a stately old lady, and people involuntarily 
 treated her with great respect, even in this mannerless 
 age. 
 
 " We were only talking about books," began Carrie, 
 deeply grateful that Wanda was safely out of sight. 
 
 " And we could n't agree," added Eva, running to 
 ring the bell for the man to take the letters, for she 
 was used to these little offices at home, and loved to 
 wait on Madam. 
 
 "Thanks, my love. Now let us talk a little, if you 
 are tired of reading, and if you like to let me share the 
 discussion. Comparing tastes in literature is always a 
 pleasure, and I used to enjoy talking over books with 
 my girl friends more than anything else." 
 
 As she spoke, Mrs. Warburton sat down in the chair 
 which Alice rolled up, drew Eva to the cushion at her 
 feet, and nodded to the others as they settled again, 
 with interested faces, one at the table where the pile 
 of chosen volumes now lay, the other erect upon the 
 couch where she had been practising the poses " full 
 of languid grace," so much affected by her favorite 
 heroines. 
 
 " Carrie was laughing at me for liking wise books 
 and wanting to improve my mind. Is it foolish and 
 a waste of time 1 " asked Alice, eager to convince her 
 friend and secure so powerful an ally. 
 
 "No, my dear, it is a very sensible desire, and I wish 
 more girls had it. Only don't be greedy, and read too 
 
PANSIES. 79 
 
 much ; cramming and smattering is as bad as promis- 
 cuous novel-reading, or no reading at all. Choose 
 carefully, read intelligently, and digest thoroughly 
 each book, and then you make it your own," answered 
 Mrs. Warburton, quite in her element now, for she 
 loved to give advice, as most old ladies do. 
 
 " But how can we know what to read if we may n't 
 follow our tastes % " said Carrie, trying to be interested 
 and "intelligent" in spite of her fear that a "school, 
 marmy " lecture was in store for her, 
 
 " Ask advice, and so cultivate a true and refined 
 taste. I always judge people's characters a good deal 
 by the books they like, as well as by the company they 
 keep ; so one should be careful, for this is a pretty good 
 test. Another is, be sure that whatever will not bear 
 reading aloud is not fit to read to one's self. Many 
 young girls ignorantly or curiously take up books quite 
 worthless, and really harmful, because under the fine 
 ■writing and brilliant color lurks immorality or the false 
 sentiment which gives wrong ideas of life and things 
 which should be sacred. They think, perhaps, that no 
 one knows this taste of theirs; but they are mistaken, for 
 it shows itself in many ways, and betrays them. Atti- 
 tudes, looks, careless words, and a morbid or foolishly 
 romantic view of certain things, show plainly that the 
 maidenly instincts are blunted, and harm done that 
 perhaps can never be repaired." 
 
 Mrs. Warburton kept her eyes fixed upon the tall and- 
 irons as if gravely reproving them, which was a great 
 relief to Carrie, whose cheeks glowed as she stirred 
 uneasily and took up a screen as if to guard them from 
 
80 A GAELAND FOR GIELS. 
 
 the fire. But conscience pricked her sharply, and 
 memory, hke a traitor, recalled many a passage or 
 scene in her favorite books which she could not have 
 read aloud even to that old lady, though she enjoyed 
 them in private. Nothing very bad, but false and 
 foolish, poor food for a lively fancy and young mind 
 to feed on, as the weariness or excitement which always 
 followed plainly proved, since one should feel refreshed, 
 not cloyed, with an intellectual feast, 
 
 Alice, with both elbows on the table, listened with 
 wide-awake eyes, and Eva watched the rain-drops 
 trickle down the pane with an intent expression, 
 as if asking herself if she had ever done this naughty 
 thing. 
 
 *' Then there is another fault," continued Mrs. War- 
 burton, well knowing that her first shot had hit its 
 mark, and anxious to be just, "Some book-loving las- 
 sies have a mania for trying to read everything, and 
 dip into works far beyond their powers, or try too 
 many different kinds of self-improvement at once. So 
 they get a muddle of useless things into their heads, 
 instead of well-assorted ideas and real knowledge. 
 They must learn to wait and select ; for each age has 
 its proper class of books, and what is Greek to us at 
 eighteen may be just what we need at thirty. One 
 can get mental dyspepsia on meat and wine as well 
 as on ice-cream and frosted cake, you know." 
 
 Alice smiled, and pushed away four of the eight 
 books she had selected, as if afraid she had been greedy, 
 and now felt that it was best to wait a little. 
 
 Eva looked up with some anxiety in her frank eyes 
 
PANSIES. 81 
 
 as she said, " Now it is my turn. Must I give up my 
 dear homely books, and take to Euskin, Kant, or 
 Plato?" 
 
 Mrs. Warburton laughed, as she stroked the pretty 
 brown head at her knee. 
 
 " Not yet, my love, perhaps never, for those are not 
 the masters you need, I fancy. Since you like stories 
 about every-day people, try some of the fine biographies 
 of real men and women about whom joii should know 
 something. You will find their lives full of stirring, 
 helpful, and lovely experiences, and in reading of these 
 you will get courage and hope and faith to bear your 
 own trials as they come. True stories suit you, aiad 
 are the best, for there we get real tragedy and comedy, 
 and the lessons all must learn." 
 
 "Thank you ! I will begin at once if you will kindly 
 give me a list of such as would be good for me," cried 
 Eva, with the sweet docility of one eager to be all that 
 is lovable and wise in woman. 
 
 " Give us a list, and we will try to improve in the 
 best way. You know what we need, and love to help 
 foolish girls, or you would n't be so kind and patient with 
 us," said Alice, going to sit beside Carrie, hoping for 
 much discussion of this, to her, very interesting subject. 
 
 "I will, with pleasure ; but I read few modern novels, 
 so I may not be a good judge there. Most of them 
 seem very poor stufi^, and I cannot waste time even to 
 skim them as some people do. I still like the old- 
 fashioned ones I read as a girl, though you would 
 laugh at them. Did any of you ever read ' Thaddeus 
 of Warsaw ' 1 " 
 
 (446) 
 
82 A GA.KLAND FOK GIKLS. 
 
 " I have, and thought it very funny ; so were ' Eve- 
 lina ' and ' Cecilia.' I wanted to try Smollett and 
 Fielding, after reading some fine essays about them, 
 but Papa told me I must wait," said Alice. 
 
 " Ah, my dears, in my day, Thaddeus was our hero, 
 and we thought the scene where he and Miss Beaufort 
 are in the Park a most thrilling one. Two fops ask 
 Thaddeus where he got his boots, and he replies, with 
 withering dignity, ' Where I got my sword, gentlemen.' 
 I treasured the picture of that episode for a long time. 
 Thaddeus wears a hat as full of black plumes as a 
 hearse, Hessian boots with tassels, and leans over 
 Mary, who languishes on the seat in a short-waisted 
 gown, limp scarf, poke bonnet, and large bag, — the 
 height of elegance then, but very funny now. Then 
 William Wallace in ' Scottish Chiefs.' Bless me ! we 
 cried over him as much as you do over your ' Heir 
 of Clifton,' or whatever the boy's name is. You 
 would n't get through it, I fancy ; and as for poor, 
 dear, prosy Eichardson, his letter-writing heroines 
 would bore you to death. Just imagine a lover say- 
 ing to a friend, ' I begged my angel to stay and sip 
 one dish of tea. She sipped one dish and flew.' " 
 
 " Now, I 'm sure that 's sillier than anything the 
 Duchess ever wrote with her five-o'clock teas and flir- 
 tations over plum-cake on lawns," cried Carrie, as they 
 all laughed at the immortal Lovelace. 
 
 " I never read Richardson, but he could n't be duller 
 than Henry James, with his everlasting stories, full of 
 people who talk a great deal and amount to nothing, 
 /like the older novels best, and enjoy some of Scott's 
 
PANSIES. 83 
 
 and Miss Edgeworth's better than Howells's, or any of 
 the modern realistic writers, with their elevators, and 
 paint-pots, and e very-day people," said Alice, who 
 wasted little time on light literature. 
 
 " I 'm glad to hear you say so, for I have an old- 
 fashioned fancy that I 'd rather read about people as 
 they were, for that is history, or as they might and should 
 be, for that helps us in our own efforts ; not as they 
 are, for that we know, and are all sufficiently common- 
 place ourselves, to be the better for a nobler and wider 
 view of life and men than any we are apt to get, so 
 busy are we earning daily bread, or running after for- 
 tune, honor, or some other bubble. But I must n't 
 lecture, or I shall bore you, and forget that I am your 
 hostess, whose duty it is to amuse." 
 
 As Mrs. Warburton paused, Carrie, anxious to change 
 the subject, said, with her eyes on a curious jewel which 
 the old lady wore, " I also like true stories, and you 
 promised to tell us about that lovely pin some day. 
 This is just the time for it, — please do." 
 
 "With pleasure, for the little romance is quite apro- 
 pos to our present chat. It is a very simple tale, and 
 rather sad, but it had a great influence on my life, and 
 this brooch is very dear to me." 
 
 As Mrs. Warburton sat silent a moment, the girls 
 all looked with interest at the quaint pin which clasped 
 the soft folds of muslin over the black silk dress which 
 was as becoming to the still handsome woman as the 
 cap on her white hair and the winter roses in her 
 cheeks. The ornament was in the shape of a pansy ; 
 its purple leaves were of amethyst, the yellow of topaz, 
 
84 A GAELAND FOE GIRLS. 
 
 and in the middle lay a diamond drop of dew. Several 
 letters were delicately cut on its golden stem, and a 
 guard pin showed how much its wearer valued it. 
 
 " My sister Lucretia was a good deal older than I, 
 for the three boys came between/' began Mrs, Warbur- 
 ton, still gazing at the fire, as if from its ashes the 
 past rose up bright and warm again. " She was a very 
 lovely and superior girl, and I looked up to her with 
 wonder as well as adoration. Others did the same, 
 and at eighteen she was engaged to a charming man, 
 who would have made his mark had he lived. She 
 was too young to marry then, and Frank Lyman had 
 a fine opening to practise his profession at the South. 
 So they parted for two years, and it was then that he 
 gave her the brooch, saying to her, as she whispered 
 how lonely she should be without him, ' This 2^^nsee 
 is a happy, faithful tJiought of me. Wear it, dearest 
 girl, and don't pine while we are separated. Read 
 and study, write much to me, and remember, '' They 
 never are alone that are accompanied with noble 
 thoughts.'"" 
 
 " Was n't that sweet 1 " cried Eva, pleased with the 
 beginning of the tale. 
 
 "So romantic!" added Carrie, recalling the "amber 
 amulet" one of her pet heroes wore for years, and died 
 kissing, after he had killed some fifty Arabs in the 
 desert. 
 
 "Bid she read and study?" asked Alice, with a soft 
 color in her cheek, and eager eyes, for a budding ro- 
 mance was folded away in the depths of her maidenly 
 heart, and she liked a love story. 
 
PANSIES. 85 
 
 *' I '11 tell you what she did, for it was rather re- 
 markable at that day, when girls had little schooling, 
 and picked up acoomplishments as they could. The 
 first winter she read and studied at home, and wrote 
 much to Mr. Lyman. I have their letters now, and 
 very fine ones they are, though they would seem old- 
 fashioned to you young things. Curious love letters, — 
 full of advice, the discussion of hooks, report of pro- 
 gress, glad praise, modest gratitude, happy plans, and 
 a faithful affection that never wavered, though Lucre- 
 tia was beautiful and much admired, and the dear 
 fellow a great favorite among the brilliant Southern 
 women. 
 
 " The second spring, Lucretia, anxious to waste no 
 time, and ambitious to surprise Lyman, decided to go 
 and study with old Dr. Gai'dener at Portland. He fit- 
 ted young men for college, was a friend of our father's, 
 and had a daughter who was a very wise and accom- 
 plished woman. That was a very happy summer, and 
 Lu got on so well that she begged to stay all winter. 
 It was a rare chance, for there were no colleges for 
 girls then, and very few advantages to be had, and the 
 dear creature burned to improve every faculty, that 
 she might be more worthy of her lover. She fitted 
 herself for college with the youths there, and did 
 wonders ; for love sharpened her wits, and the thought 
 of that happy meeting spurred her on to untiring ex- 
 ertion. Lymaii was expected in May, and the wedding 
 was to be in June ; but, alas for the poor girl ! the 
 yellow-fever came, and he was one of the first victims. 
 They never met again, and nothing was left her of all 
 
86 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 that happy time but his letters, his library, and the 
 pansy." 
 
 Mrs. Warburton paused to wipe a few quiet tears 
 from her eyes, while the girls sat in sympathetic 
 silence. 
 
 "We thought it would kill her, that sudden change 
 from love, hope, and happiness to sorrow, death, and 
 solitude. But hearts don't break, my dears, if they 
 know where to go for strength. Lucretia did, and after 
 the first shock was over found comfort in her books, 
 saying, with a brave, bright look, and the sweetest 
 resignation, ' I must go on trying to be more worthy 
 of him, for we shall meet again in God's good time 
 and he shall see that I do not forget.' 
 
 "That was better than tears and lamentation, and 
 the long years that followed were beautiful and busy 
 ones, full of dutiful care for us at home after our mother 
 died, of interest in all the good works of her time, and 
 a steady, quiet effort to improve every faculty of her 
 fine mind, till she was felt to be one of the noblest 
 women in our city. Her influence was wide-spread; 
 all the intelligent people sought her, and when she 
 travelled she was welcome everywhere, for cultivated 
 persons have a free-masonry of their own, and are rec- 
 ognized at once." 
 
 " Did she ever marry ? " asked Carrie, feeling that no 
 life could be quite successful without that great event. 
 
 " Never. She felt herself a widow, and wore black 
 to the day of her death. Many men asked her hand, 
 but she refused them all, and was the sweetest 'old 
 maid ' ever seen, — cheerful and serene to the very 
 
PANSIES. 87 
 
 last, for she was ill a long time, and found her solace 
 and stay still in the beloved books. Even when she 
 could no longer read them, her memory supplied her 
 with the mental food that kept her soul strong while 
 her body failed. It was wonderful to see and hear 
 her repeating fine lines, heroic sayings, and comfort- 
 ing psalms through the weary nights when no sleep 
 would come, making friends and helpers of the poets, 
 philosophers, and saints whom she knew and loved so 
 well. It made death beautiful, and taught me how 
 victorious an immortal soul can be over the ills that 
 vex our mortal flesh. 
 
 " She died at dawn on Easter Sunday, after a quiet 
 night, when she had given me her little legacy of let- 
 ters, books, and the one jewel she had always worn, 
 repeating her lover's words to comfort me. I had read 
 the Commendatory Prayer, and as I finished she whis- 
 pered, with a look of perfect peace, ' Shut the book, 
 dear, I need study no more ; I have hoped and be- 
 lieved, now I shall know ; ' and so went happily away 
 to meet her lover after patient waiting." 
 
 The sigh of the wind was the only sound that 
 broke the silence till the quiet voice went on again, as 
 if it loved to tell the story, for the thought of soon 
 seeing the beloved sister took the sadness from the 
 memory of the past. 
 
 " I also found my solace in books, for I was very 
 lonely when she was gone, my father being dead, the 
 brothers married, and home desolate. I took to study 
 and reading as a congenial employment, feeling no in- 
 clination to marry, and for many years was quite con- 
 
88 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 tented among my books. But in trying to follow in 
 dear Lncretia's footsteps, I unconsciously fitted myself 
 for the great honor and happiness of my life, and 
 curiously enough I owed it to a book." 
 
 Mrs. Warburton smiled as she took up a shabby 
 little volume from the table where Alice had laid it, 
 and, quick to divine another romance, Eva said, like a 
 story-loving child, " Do tell about it ! The other was 
 so sad." 
 
 " This begins merrily, and has a wedding in it, as 
 young girls think all tales should. Well, when I was 
 about thirty-five, I was invited to join a party of friends 
 on a trip to Canada, that being the favorite jaunt in 
 my young days. I 'd been studying hard for some 
 years, and needed rest, so I was glad to go. As a good 
 book for an excursion, I took this Wordsworth in my 
 bag. It is full of fine passages, you know, and I loved 
 it, for it was one of the books given to Lucretia by her 
 lover. We had a charming time, and were on our way 
 to Quebec when my little adventure happened. I was 
 in raptures over the grand St. Lawrence as we steamed 
 slowly from Montreal that lovely summer day. I could 
 not read, but sat on the upper deck, feasting my eyes 
 and dreaming dreams as even staid maiden ladies will 
 when out on a holiday. Suddenly I caught the sound 
 of voices in earnest discussion on the lower deck, and, 
 glancing down, saw several gentlemen leaning against 
 the rail as they talked over certain events of great 
 piiblic interest at that moment. I knew that a party 
 of distinguished persons were on board, as my friend's 
 husband, Dr. Tracy, knew some of them, and pointed 
 
PANSIES. 89 
 
 out Mr. Warburton as one of the rising scientific men 
 of the day. I remembered that my sister had met 
 him years ago, and much admired him both for his own 
 gifts and because he had known Lyman. As other 
 people were listening, I felt no delicacy about doing 
 the same, for the conversation was an eloquent one, 
 and well worth catching. So interested did I become 
 that I forgot the great rafts floating by, the picturesque 
 shores, the splendid river, and leaned nearer and nearer 
 that no word might be lost, till my book slid out of 
 my lap and fell straight down upon the head of one of 
 the gentlemen, giving him a smart blow, and knocking 
 his hat overboard." 
 
 " Oh, what did you do ^ " cried the girls, much 
 amused at this unromantic catastrophe. 
 
 Mrs. Warburton clasped her hands dramatically, as 
 her eyes twinkled and a pretty color came into her 
 cheeks at the memory of that exciting moment. 
 
 " My dears, I could have dropped with mortification ! 
 What could I do but dodge and peep as I waited to see 
 the end of this most untoward accident 1 Fortunately 
 I was alone on that side of the deck, so none of the 
 ladies saw my mishap, and, slipping along the seat to 
 a distant corner, I hid my face behind a convenient 
 newspaper, as I watched the little flurry of fishing up 
 the hat by a man in a boat near by, and the merriment 
 of the gentlemen over this assault of William Words- 
 worth upon Samuel Warburton. The poor book passed 
 from hand to hand, and many jokes were made upon 
 the ' fair Helen ' whose name was written on the paper 
 cover which protected it. 
 
90 A GARLAND FOE GIRLS. 
 
 " ' I knew a Miss Harper once, — a lovely woman, but 
 her name was not Helen, and she is dead, — God hless 
 her ! ' I heard Mr. Warburton say, as he flapped his 
 straw hat to dry it, and rubbed his head, which for- 
 tunately was well covered with thick gray hair at that 
 time. 
 
 " I longed to go down and tell him who I was, but I 
 had not the courage to face all those men. It really 
 was most embarrassing; so I waited for a more pri- 
 vate moment to claim my book, as I knew we should 
 not land till night, so there was no danger of losing 
 it. 
 
 " ' This is rather unusual stuff for a woman to be 
 reading. Some literary lady doubtless. Better look 
 her up, Warburton. You '11 know her by the color of 
 her stockings when she comes down to lunch,' said a 
 jolly old gentleman, in a tone that made me 'rouge 
 high,' as Evelina says. 
 
 " ' I shall know her by her intelligent face and con- 
 versation, if this book belongs to a lady. It will be 
 an honor and a pleasure to meet a woman who enjoys 
 Wordsworth, for in my opinion he is one of our truest 
 poets,' answered Mr. Warburton, putting the book in 
 his pocket, with a look and a tone that were most re- 
 spectful and comforting to me just then. 
 
 " I hoped he would examine the volume, for Lucre- 
 tia's and Lyman's names were on the fly leaf, and that 
 would be a delightful introduction for me. So I said 
 nothing and bided my time, feeling rather foolish when 
 we all filed in to lunch, and I saw the other party 
 glancing at the ladies at the table. Mr. Warburton's 
 
PANSIES. 91 
 
 eye paused a moment as it passed from Mrs. Tracy to 
 me, and I fear I blushed like a girl, my dears, for 
 Samuel had very fine eyes, and I remembered the 
 stout gentleman's unseemly joke about the stockings. 
 Mine were white as snow, for I had a neat foot, and was 
 fond of nice hose and well-made shoes. I am so still, 
 as you see." Here the old lady displayed a small foot 
 in a black silk stocking and delicate slipper, with the 
 artless pride a woman feels, at any age, in one of her 
 best points. The girls gratified her by a murmur of 
 admiration, and, decorously readjusting the folds of her 
 gown, she went on with the most romantic episode of 
 her quiet life. 
 
 " I retired to my state-room after lunch to compose 
 myself, and when I emerged, in the cool of the afternoon, 
 my first glance showed me that the hour had come, 
 for there on deck was Mr. Warburton, talking to Mrs. 
 Tracy, with my book in his hand. I hesitated a mo- 
 ment, for in spite of my age I was rather shy, and 
 really it was not an easy thing to apologize to a strange 
 gentleman for dropping books on his head and spoiling 
 his hat. Men think so much of their hats, you know. 
 I was spared embarrassment, however, for he saw me 
 and came to me at once, saying, in the most cor- 
 dial manner, as he showed the names on the fly leaf 
 of my Wordsworth, ' I am sure we need no other in- 
 troduction but the names of these two dear friends 
 of ours. I am very glad to find that ]\Iiss Helen Har- 
 per is the little girl I saw once or twice at your father's 
 house some years ago, and to meet her so pleasantly 
 ao-ain.' 
 
92 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 " That made everything easy aud delightful, and 
 when I had apologized and been laughingly assured 
 that he considered it rather an honor than otherwise to 
 be assaulted by so great a man, we fell to talking of 
 old times, and soon forgot that we were strangers. He 
 was twenty years older than I, but a handsome man, 
 and a most interesting and excellent one, as we all 
 know. He had lost a young wife long ago, and had 
 lived for science ever since, but it had not made him 
 dry, or cold, or selfish. He was very young at heart 
 for all his wisdom, and enjoyed that holiday like a boy 
 out of school. So did I, and never dreamed that any- 
 thing would come of it but a pleasant friendship 
 founded on our love for those now dead and gone. 
 Dear me ! how strangely things turn out in this world 
 of ours, and how the dropping of that book changed 
 my life ! Well, that was our introduction, and that 
 first long conversation was followed by many more 
 equally charming, during the three weeks our parties 
 were much together, as both were taking the same 
 trip, and Dr. Tracy was glad to meet his old friend. 
 
 " I need not tell you how delightful such society 
 was to me, nor how surprised I was when, on the last 
 day before we parted, Mr. Warburton, who had an- 
 swered many questions of mine during these long chats 
 of ours, asked me a very serious one, and I found that 
 I could answer it as he wished. It brought me great 
 honor as well as happiness. I fear I was not worthy 
 of it, but I tried to be, and felt a tender satisfaction 
 in thinking that I owed it to dear Lucretia, in part at 
 least ; for my effort to imitate her made me fitter to 
 
PANSIES. 93- 
 
 become a wise man's wife, and thirty years of very 
 sweet companionship was my reward." 
 
 As she spoke, Mrs. Warburton bowed her head be- 
 fore the portrait of a venerable old man which hung 
 above the mantel-piece. 
 
 It was a pretty, old-fashioned expression of wifely 
 pride and womanly tenderness in the fine old lady, 
 who forgot her own gifts, and felt only humility and 
 gratitude to the man who had found in her a comrade 
 in intellectual pursuits, as well as a helpmeet at home 
 and a gentle prop for his declining years. 
 
 The girls looked up with eyes full of something softer 
 than mere curiosity, and felt in their young hearts 
 how precious and honorable such a memory must be, 
 how true and beautiful such a marriage was, and how 
 sweet wisdom might become when it went hand in 
 hand with love. 
 
 Alice spoke first, saying, as she touched the worn 
 cover of the little book with a new sort of respect, 
 " Thank you very much ! Perhaps I ought not to 
 have taken this from the corner shelves in your sanc- 
 tum 1 I wanted to find the rest of the lines Mr. 
 Thornton quoted last night, and did n't stop to ask 
 leave." 
 
 '' You are welcome, my love, for you know how to 
 treat books. Yes, those in that little case are my 
 precious relics. I keep them all, from my childish 
 hymn-book to my great-grandfather's brass-bound 
 Bible, for by and by when I sit ' Looking towards Sun- 
 set,' as dear Lydia Maria Child calls our last days, I 
 shall lose my interest in other books, and take comfort 
 
94 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 in these. At the end as at the beginning of life we 
 are all children again, and love the songs our mothers 
 sung us, and find the one true Book our best teacher 
 as we draw near to God." 
 
 As the reverent voice paused, a ray of sunshine 
 broke through the parting clouds, and shoue full on the 
 serene old face turned to meet it, with a smile that 
 welcomed the herald of a lovely sunset. 
 
 " The rain is over ; there will be just time for a run 
 in the garden before dinner, girls. I must go and 
 change my cap, for literary ladies should not neglect 
 to look well after the ways of their household and keep 
 themselves tidy, no matter how old they may be." 
 And with a nod Mrs. Warburton left them, wondering 
 what the effect of the conversation would be on the 
 minds of her young guests. 
 
 Alice went away to the garden, thinking of Lucretia 
 and her lover, as she gathered flowers in the sunshine. 
 Conscientious Eva took the Life of Mary Somerville 
 to her room, and read diligently for half an hour, that 
 no time might be lost in her new course of study, 
 Carrie sent Wanda and her finery up the chimney 
 in a lively blaze, and, as she watched the book burn, 
 decided to take her blue and gold volume of Tennyson 
 with her on her next trip to ISTahant, in case any eligi- 
 ble learned or literary man's head should offer itself 
 as a shining mark. Since a good marriage was the 
 end of life, why not follow Mrs. Warburton's example, 
 and make a really excellent one 1 
 
 When they all met at dinner-time the old lady was 
 pleased to see a nosegay of fresh pansies in the bosoms 
 
PANSIES. 95 
 
 of her three youngest guests, and to hear Alice whis- 
 per, with grateful eyes, — 
 
 " We wear your flower to show you that we don't 
 mean to forget the lesson you so kindly gave us, and 
 to fortify ourselves with 'noble thoughts,' as you and 
 she did." 
 
WATER-LILIES. 
 
 A PARTY of people, young and old, sat on the piazza 
 of a seaside hotel one summer morning, discussing 
 plans for the day as they waited for the mail. 
 
 " Hullo ! here comes Christie Johnstone," exclaimed 
 one of the young men perched on the railing, who 
 was poisoning the fresh air with the sickly scent of a 
 cigarette. 
 
 " So 't is, with ' Flucker, the baddish boy,' in tow, 
 as large as life," added another, with a pleasant laugh 
 as he turned to look. 
 
 The new-comers certainly looked somewhat like 
 Charles Eeade's,'picturesque pair, and every one watched 
 them with idle interest as they drew nearer. A tall, 
 robust girl of seventeen, with dark eyes and hair, a 
 fine color on her brown cheek, and vigor in every 
 movement, came up the rocky path from the beach 
 with a basket of lobsters on one arm, of fish on the 
 other, and a wicker tray of water-lilies on her head. 
 The scarlet and silver of the fish contrasted prettily 
 with the dark blue of her rough dress, and the pile 
 of water flowers made a fitting crown for this bonny 
 young fish-wife. A sturdy lad of twelve came lurch- 
 ing after her in a pair of very large rubber boots, with 
 a dilapidated straw hat on the back of his head and 
 a pail on either arm. 
 
' A tall, robust girl of seventeen came up the rocky path from 
 the beach ; a sturdy lad of twelve came lurching after her." 
 
WATEK-LILIES. 97 
 
 Straight on went the girl, never turning head or 
 eyes as she passed the gToup on the piazza and van- 
 ished round the corner, though it was evident that 
 she heard the laugh the last speech produced, for the 
 color deepened in her cheeks and her step quickened. 
 The boy, however, returned the glances bent upon him, 
 and answered the smiles with such a cheerful gi'in 
 that the youth with the cigarette called out, — 
 
 " Good-morning, Skipper ! Where do you hail 
 from 1 " 
 
 " Island, yender," answered the boy, with a gesture 
 of his thumb over his shoulder. 
 
 " Oh, you are the lighthouse-keeper, are yoa 1 " 
 ' " No, I ain't ; me and Gramper 's fishermen now." 
 
 " Your name is Flucker Johnstone, and your sis- 
 ter 's Christie, I think 1 " added the youth, enjoying the 
 amusement of the young ladies about him. 
 
 " It 's Sammy Bowen, and hern 's Ruth." 
 
 *' Have you got a Boaz over there for her 1 " 
 
 "No, we 've got a devil-fish, a real whacker." 
 
 This unexpected reply produced a roar from the 
 gentlemen, while the boy grinned good-naturedly, 
 though without the least idea what the joke was. 
 Pretty Miss Ellery, who had been told that she had 
 " a rippling laugh," rippled sweetly as she leaned over 
 the railing to ask, — 
 
 " Are those lilies in your pails ? I want some if 
 they are for sale." 
 
 *' Sister '11 fetch 'em round when she 's left the lobs. 
 
 I ain't got none ; this is bait for them fellers." And 
 
 as if I'cminded of business by the yells of several boys 
 (446; ^ ^ 
 
98 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 who had just caught sight of him, Sammy abruptly 
 weighed anchor and ran before the wind toward the 
 stable. 
 
 " Funny lot, these natives ! Act as if they owned 
 the place, and are as stupid as their own fish," said 
 the youth in the white yachting-suit, as he flung away 
 his cigai'ette end. 
 
 " Don't agree with you, Fred. I 've known people 
 of this sort all my life, and a finer set of honest, hard- 
 working, independent men I never met, — brave ae 
 lions and tender as women in spite of their rough 
 ways," answered the other young man, who wore blue 
 flannel and had a gold band on his cap. 
 
 " Sailors and soldiers always stand by one another ; 
 so of course you see the best side of these fellows. 
 Captain. The girls are fine creatures, I grant you ; 
 but their good looks don't last long, more 's the pity ! " 
 
 "Few women's would with the life they lead, so full 
 of hard work, suspense, and sorrow. No one knows till 
 one is tried, how much courage and faith it takes to 
 keep young and happy when the men one loves are 
 on the great sea," said a quiet, gray-haired lady as 
 she laid her hand on the knee of the young man in 
 blue with a look that made him smile affectionately 
 at ber, with his own brown hand on hers. 
 
 " Should n't wonder if Ben Bowen was laid up, 
 since the girl brings the fish. He 's a fine old fellow. 
 I 've been to No Man's Land many a time blue-fishing 
 with him ; must ask after him," said an elderly gen- 
 tleman who was pacing to and fro yearning for the 
 morning papers. 
 
WATER-LILIES. 99 
 
 " We might go over to the island and have a chow- 
 der-party or a fish-fry some moonhght night. I have n't 
 been here for several years, but it used to be great 
 fun, and I suppose we can do it now," suggested Miss 
 EUery with the laugh. 
 
 " By Jove, we will ! And look up Christie ; ask her 
 when she comes round," said Mr. Fred, the youthful 
 dude, untwining his languid legs as if the prospect 
 put a little life into him. 
 
 " Of course we pay for any trouble we give ; these 
 people will do anything for money," began Miss Ellery ; 
 but Captain John, as they called the sailor, held up 
 his hand with a warning, " Hush ! she 's coming," as 
 Ruth's weather-beaten brown hat turned the corner. 
 
 She paused a moment to drop the empty baskets, 
 shake her skirts, and put up a black braid that had 
 fallen down ; then, with the air of one resolved to do 
 a distasteful task as quickly as possible, she came up 
 the steps, held out the rough basket cover, and said in 
 a clear voice, — 
 
 "Would any of the ladies like some fresh lilies'? 
 Ten cents a bunch." 
 
 A murmur from the ladies expressed their admi- 
 ration of the beautiful flowers, and the gentlemen 
 pressed forward to buy and present every bunch 
 with gallant haste. Ruth's eyes shone as the money 
 fell into her hand, and several voices begged her to 
 bring more lilies while they lasted. 
 
 " I did n't know the darlings would grow' in salt 
 water," said Miss Ellery, as she fondly gazed upon the 
 cluster Mr. Fred had just offered her. 
 
100 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 "They don't. There's a little fresh-water pond 
 on our island, and they grow there, — only place for 
 miles round; " and Ruth looked at the delicate girl in 
 ruffled white lawn and a mull hat, with a glance of 
 mingled pity for her ignorance and admiration for 
 her beauty. 
 
 " How silly of me ! I am such a goose ; " and Miss 
 Ellery gurgled as she hid her face behind her red 
 parasol. 
 
 "Ask about the fish-fry," whispered Mr. Fred, 
 putting his head behind the rosy screen to assure 
 the pretty creature that he didn't know any better 
 himself. 
 
 " Oh yes, I will ! " and, quite consoled. Miss Ellery 
 called out, " Girl, will you tell me if we can have 
 chowder-parties on your rocks as we used to a few 
 seasons ago?" 
 
 " If you bring your own fish. Grandpa is sick and 
 can't get 'em for you." 
 
 " We will provide them, but who will cook them 
 for us] It's such horrid work." 
 
 " Any one can fry fish ! I will if you want me to ; " 
 and Ruth half smiled, remembering that this girl who 
 shuddered at the idea of pork and a hot frying-pan, 
 used to eat as heartily as any one when the crisp 
 brown cunners were served up. 
 
 '* Very good; then we '11 engage you as cook, and 
 come over to-night if it 's clear and our fishing pros- 
 pers. Don't forget a dozen of the finest lilies for this 
 lady to-morrow morning. Pay you now, may not be 
 up ; " and Mr. Fred dropped a bright silver dollar into 
 
WATEK-LILIES. 101 
 
 the basket with a patronizmg air, intended to impress 
 this rather too independent young person with a 
 proper sense of her inferiority. 
 
 Ruth quietly shook the money out upon the 
 door-mat, and said with a sudden sparkle in her black 
 eyes, — 
 
 " It 's doubtful if I bring any more. Better wait 
 till I do." 
 
 " I 'm sorry your grandfather is sick. I '11 come 
 over and see him by-and-by, and bring the papers if 
 he would like some," said the elderly gentleman as he 
 came up with a friendly nod and real interest in his 
 face. 
 
 " Very much, thank you, sir. He is very feeble 
 now ; " and Ruth turned with a bright smile to wel- 
 come kind Mr. Wallace, who had not forgotten the 
 old man. 
 
 " Christie has got a nice little temper of her own, 
 and don't know how to treat a fellow when he wants 
 to do her a favor," growled Mr. Fred, pocketing his 
 dollar with a disgusted air. 
 
 "She appears to know how to treat a gentleman 
 when he offers one," answered Blue Jacket, with 
 a twinkle of the eye as if he enjoyed the other's 
 discomfiture. 
 
 " Girls of that class always put on airs if they are 
 the least bit pretty, — so absurd ! " said Miss Ellery, 
 pulling up her long gloves as she glanced at the brown 
 arms of the fisher maiden. 
 
 " Girls of any class like to be treated with respect. 
 Modesty in linsey-woolsey is as sweet as in muslin. 
 
102 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 my dear, and should oe even more admired, according 
 to my old-fashioned way of thinking," said the gray- 
 haired lady. 
 
 " Hear ! hear ! " murmured her sailor nephew with 
 an approving nod. 
 
 It was evident that Ruth had heard also, as she 
 turned to go, for with a quick gesture she pulled 
 three great lilies from her hat and laid them on the 
 old lady's lap, saying with a grateful look, " Thank 
 you, ma'am." 
 
 She had seen Miss Scott hand her bunch to a meek 
 little governess who had been forgotten, and this was 
 all she had to offer in return for the kindness which is 
 so sweet to poor girls whose sensitive pride gets often 
 wounded by trifles like these. 
 
 She was going without her baskets when Captain 
 John swung himself over the railing, and ran after 
 her with them. He touched his cap as he met her, 
 and was thanked with as bright a smile as that 
 the elder gentleman had received ; for his respectful 
 " Miss Bowen " pleased her much after the rude 
 " Girl ! " and the money tossed to her as if she were 
 a beggar. When he came back the mail had arrived, 
 and all scattered at once, — Mr. Fred to spend the dol- 
 lar in more cigarettes, and Captain John to settle care- 
 fully in his button-hole the water-lily Aunt Mary gave 
 him, before both young men went off to play tennis as 
 if their bread depended on it. 
 
 As it bid fair to be a moonlight night, the party of a 
 dozen young people, with Miss Scott and Mr. Wallace 
 to act as matron and admiral of the fleet, set off to 
 
WATER-LILIES. 103 
 
 the Island about sunset. Fish in abundance had been 
 caught, and a picnic supper provided to be eaten on 
 the rocks when the proper time arrived. They found 
 Sammy, in a clean blue shirt and a hat less like a 
 Feejee headpiece, willing to do the honors of the 
 Island, beaming like a freckled young merman as he 
 paddled out to pull up the boats. 
 
 " Fire 's all ready for kindlin', and Ruth 's slicin ' the 
 pertaters. Hope them fish is cleaned 1 " he added with 
 a face of deep anxiety ; for that weary task would fall 
 to him if not already done, and the thought desolated 
 his boyish soul. 
 
 " All ready, Sam ! Lend a hand with these baskets, 
 and then steer for the lighthouse ; the ladies want to 
 see that first," answered Captain John, as he tossed a 
 stray cookie into Sammy's mouth with a smile that 
 caused that youth to cleave to him like a burr all the 
 evening. 
 
 The young people scattered over the rocks, and "has- 
 tened to visit the points of interest before dark. 
 They climbed the lighthouse tower, and paid Aunt 
 !N"abby and Grandpa a call at the weather-beaten little 
 house, where the old woman lent them a mammoth 
 coffee-pot, and promised that Euth would "dish up 
 them fish in good shape at eight punctooal." Then 
 they strolled away to see the fresh-water pond where 
 the lilies grew. 
 
 " How curious that such a thing should be here 
 right in the middle of the salt sea ! " said one of the 
 girls, as they stood looking at the quiet pool while the 
 tide dashed high upon the rocks all about them. 
 
104 A GARLAND FOE GIELS. 
 
 " Not more curious than how it is possible for any- 
 thing so beautiful and pure as one of those lilies to 
 grow from the mud at the bottom of the pond. The 
 ugly yellow ones are not so out of place ; but no one 
 cares for them, and they smell horridly," added another 
 girl in a reflective tone. 
 
 " Instinct sends the white lily straight up to the 
 sun and air, and the strong slender stem anchors it 
 to the rich earth below, out of which it has power 
 to draw the nourishment that makes it so lovely and 
 keeps it spotless — unless slugs and flies and boys 
 spoil it," added Miss Scott as she watched Mr. Fred 
 poke and splash with his cane after a half-closed flower. 
 
 " The naughty things have all shut up and spoilt 
 the pretty sight ; I 'm so disappointed," sighed Miss 
 Ellery, surveying the green buds with great disfavor 
 as she had planned to wear some in her hair and 
 act Undine. 
 
 " You must come early in the morning if you want 
 to see them at their best. T 've read somewhere that 
 when the sun first strikes them they open rapidly, 
 and it is a lovely sight. I shall try to see it some day 
 if I can get here in time," said Miss Scott. 
 
 "How romantic old maids are ! " whispered one girl 
 to another, 
 
 " So are young ones ; hear what Floss Ellery is say- 
 ing," answered the other ; and both giggled under their 
 big hats as they caught these words followed by the 
 rippling laugh, — 
 
 "All flowers open and show their hearts when the 
 Bim shines on them at the right moment." 
 
WATER-LILIES. 105 
 
 "I wish human flowers would," murmured Mr. 
 Fred ; and then, as if rather alarmed at his own re- 
 mark, he added hastily, " I '11 get that big lily out 
 there and make it bloom for you." 
 
 Trusting to an old log that lay in the pond, he went 
 to the end and bent to pull in the half-shut flower ; but 
 this too ardent sun was not to make it blossom, for his 
 foot slipped and down he went up to his knees in mud 
 and water. 
 
 " Save him ! oh, save him ! " shrieked Miss EUery, 
 clutching Captain John, who was laughing like a boy, 
 while the other lads shouted and the girls added their 
 shrill merriment as poor Fred scrambled to the shore 
 a wreck of the gallant craft that had set sail in spot- 
 less white. 
 
 " "What the deuce shall I do ? " he asked in a tone 
 of despair as they flocked about him to condole even 
 while they laughed. 
 
 " Roll up your trousers and borrow Sam's boots. 
 The old lady will dry your shoes and socks while you 
 are at supper, and have them ready to wear home," 
 suggested Captain John, who was used to duckings 
 and made light of them. 
 
 The word " supper " made one carnal-minded youth 
 sniff the air and announce that he smelt " something 
 good ; " and at once every one tui'ued toward the pic- 
 nic ground, like chickens hurrying to the barn at 
 feeding-time. Fred vanished into the cottage, and the 
 rest gathered about the great fire of driftwood fast 
 turning to clear coals, over which Ruth was beginning 
 her long hot task. She wore a big apron, a red hand- 
 
106 A GAELAND FOE GIELS. 
 
 kerchief over her head, had her sleeves rolled up, and 
 was so intent on her work that she merely nodded 
 and smiled as the new-comers greeted her with vary- 
 ing degrees of courtesy. 
 
 " She looks like a handsome gypsy, with her dark 
 face and that red thing in the firelight. I wish I could 
 paint her," said Miss Scott, who was very young at 
 heart in spite of her fifty years and gray head. 
 
 " So do I, but we can remember it. I do like to 
 see a girl work with a will, even at frying fish. Most 
 of 'em dawdle so at the few things they try to do. 
 There 's a piece of energy for you ! " and Captain John 
 leaned forward from his rocky seat to watch Ruth, who 
 just then caught up the coffee-pot about to boil over, 
 and with the other hand saved her frying-pan from 
 capsizing on its unsteady bed of coals. 
 
 " She is a nice girl, and I 'm much interested in 
 her. Mr. Wallace says he will tell us her story by- 
 and-by if we care to hear it. He has known the old 
 man a long time." 
 
 " Don't forget to remind him, Aunty. I like a yarn 
 after mess ; " and Captain John went off" to bring the 
 first plate of fish to the dear old lady who had been a 
 mother to him for many years. 
 
 It was a merry supper, and the moon was up be- 
 fore it ended; for everything "tasted so good" the 
 hearty young appetites sharpened by sea air were 
 hard to satisfy. When the last cunner had vanished 
 and nothing but olives and oyster crackers remained, 
 the party settled on a sloping rock out of range of the 
 fire, and reposed for a brief period to recover from the 
 
WATER-LILIES. 107 
 
 exertions of the feast, having, like the heroes in the 
 old story, " eaten mightily for the space of an hour." 
 
 Mr. Fred in the capacious boots was a never-failing 
 source of amusement, and consequently somewhat sub- 
 dued. But Miss Ellery consoled him, and much food 
 sustained him till his shoes were dry. Ruth re- 
 mained to clear up, and Sammy to gorge himself on 
 the remnants of "sweet cake" which he could not 
 bear to see wasted. So, when some one proposed tell- 
 ing stories till they were ready to sing, Mr. Wallace 
 was begged to begin. 
 
 "It is only something about this island, but you 
 may like to hear it just now," said the genial old gen- 
 tleman, settling his handkerchief over his bald head 
 for fear of cold, and glancing at the attentive young 
 faces gi'ouped about him in the moonlight. 
 
 " Some twenty years ago there was a wreck over 
 there on those great rocks ; you fellows have heard 
 about it, so I '11 only say that a very brave sailor, a 
 native of the Port here, swam out with a rope and 
 saved a dozen men and women. I '11 call him Sam. 
 Well, one of the women was an English governess, and 
 when the lady she was with went on her way after 
 the wreck, this pretty girl (who by the way was a 
 good deal hurt trying to save the child she had in 
 charge) was left behind to recover, and — " 
 
 " Marry the brave sailor of course," cried one of the 
 girls. 
 
 "Exactly ! and a very happy pair they were. She 
 had no family who wanted her at home ; her father 
 had been a clergyman, I believe, and she was well 
 
108 A OAKLAND FOR GIELS. 
 
 born, but Sam was a fine fellow and earned his liv- 
 ing honestly, fishing oli' the Banks, as half the men 
 do here. Well, they were very happy, had two chil- 
 dren, and were saving up a bit, when poor Sam and 
 two brothers were lost in one of the great storms 
 which now and then make widows and orphans by 
 the dozen. It killed the wife ; but Sam's father, who 
 kept the lighthouse here then, took the poor children 
 and supported them for ten years. The boy was a 
 mere baby ; the girl a fine creature, brave like her 
 father, handsome like her mother, and with a good 
 deal of the lady about her, though every one did n't 
 find it out." 
 
 "Ahem!" cried the sharp girl, who began to under- 
 stand the point of the story now, but would not spoil 
 it, as the others seemed still in the dark, though Miss 
 Scott was smiling, and Captain John staring hard at 
 the old gentleman in the blue silk nightcap. 
 
 " Got a fly in your throat 1 " asked a neighbor ; but 
 Kate only laughed and begged pardon for inter- 
 rupting. 
 
 "There's not much more; only that affair was 
 rather romantic, and one can't help wondering how 
 the children turned out. Storms seem to have been 
 their doom, for in the terrible one we had two winters 
 ago, the old lighthouse-keeper had a bad fall on the 
 icy rocks, and if it had not been for the girl, the light 
 would have gone out and more ships been lost on this 
 dangerous point. The keeper's mate had gone ashore 
 and could n't get back for two days, the gale raged so 
 fiercely ; but he knew Ben could get on without him, 
 
WATER-LILIES. 109 
 
 as he had the girl and boy over for a visit. In winter 
 they lived with a friend and went to school at the 
 Port. It would have been all right if Ben had n't 
 broken his ribs. But he was a stout old salt ; so he 
 told the girl what to do, and she did it, while the boy 
 waited on the sick man. For two days and nights 
 that brave creature lived in the tower, that often 
 rocked as if it would come down, while the sleet and 
 snow dimmed the lantern, and sea-birds were beaten 
 to death against the glass. But the light burned 
 steadily, and people said, ' All is well,' as ships steered 
 away in time, when the clear light warned them of 
 danger, and grateful sailors blessed the hands that 
 kept it burning faithfully." 
 
 " I hope she got rewarded," cried an eager voice, as 
 the story-teller paused for breath. 
 
 " 'I only did my duty ; that is reward enough,' she 
 said, when some of the rich men at the Port heard of 
 it and sent her money and thanks. She took the 
 money, however, for Ben had to give up the place, 
 being too lame to do the work. He earns his living 
 by fishing now, and puts away most of his pension for 
 the children. He won't last long, and then they must 
 take care of themselves ; for the old woman is no rela- 
 tion, and the girl is too proud to hunt up the forgetful 
 English friends, if they have any. But I don't fear 
 for her ; a brave lass like that will make her own way 
 anywhere." 
 
 " Is that all 1 " asked several voices, as Mr. Wallace 
 leaned back and fanned himself with his hat. 
 
 " That 's all of the first and second parts ; the third is 
 
110 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 yet to come. When I know it, I '11 tell you ; perhaps 
 next summer, if we meet here again." 
 
 " Then you know the girl 1 What is she doing 
 nowl" asked Miss Ellery, who had lost a part of the 
 story as she sat in a shadowy nook with the pensive 
 Fred. 
 
 " We all know her. She is washing a coffee-pot at 
 this moment, I believe ; " and Mr. Wallace pointed to a 
 figure on the beach, energetically shaking a large tin 
 article that shone in the moonlight. 
 
 " Euth ? Really 1 How romantic and interesting ! " 
 exclaimed Miss Ellery, who was just of the age, as were 
 most of the other girls, to enjoy tales of this sort and 
 imagine sensational denouements. 
 
 " There is a great deal of untold romance in the lives 
 of these toilers of the sea, and I am sure this good girl 
 will find her reward for the care she takes of the old 
 man and the boy. It costs her something, I 've dis- 
 covered, for she wants an education, and could get it 
 if she left this poor place and lived for herself; but 
 she won't go, and works hard to get money for Grand- 
 pa's comfort, instead of buying the books she longs 
 for. I think, young ladies, that there is real heroism 
 in cheerfully selling lilies and frying fish for duty's 
 sake when one longs to be studying, and enjoying a 
 little of the youth that comes but once," said Mr. 
 Wallace. 
 
 " Oh dear, yes, so nice of her ! We might take up 
 a contribution for her when we get home. I '11 head 
 the paper with pleasure and give all I can afford, for 
 it must be so horrid to be ignorant at her age. I dare 
 
WATEE-LILIES. Ill 
 
 say the poor thing can't even read ; just fancy ! " and 
 Miss EUery clasped her hands with a sigh of pity. 
 
 " Very few girls can read fit to be heard now-a- 
 days," murmured Miss Scott. 
 
 " Don't let them affront her with their money ; she 
 will fling it in their faces as she did that donkey's dollar. 
 You see to her in your nice, delicate way, Aunty, and 
 give her a lift if she will let you," whispered Captain 
 John in the old lady's ear. 
 
 " Don't waste your pity, Miss Florence. Ruth reads 
 a newspaper better than any woman I ever knew. I Ve 
 heard her doing it to the old man, getting through 
 shipping news, money-market, and politics in fine style. 
 I would n't offer her money if I were you, though it is 
 a kind thought. These people have an honest pride 
 in earning things for themselves, and I respect them 
 for it," added Mr. Wallace. 
 
 " Dear me ! I should as soon think of a sand-skipper 
 having pride as one of these fishy folks in this stupid 
 little place," observed Mr. Fred, carefully moving his 
 legs into the shadow as the creeping moonlight began 
 to reveal the hideous boots. 
 
 " Why not 1 I think they have more to be proud of, 
 these brave, honest, independent people, than many 
 who never earn a cent and swell round on the money 
 their fathers made out of pork, rum, or — any other 
 rather unpleasant or disreputable business," said Cap- 
 tain John, with the twinkle in his eye, as he changed 
 the end of his sentence, for the word "pickles" was 
 on his lips when Aunt Mary's quick touch checked it. 
 Some saucy girl laughed, and Mr. Fred squirmed, for it 
 
112 A GARLAND FOE GIRLS. 
 
 was well known that his respectable grandfather whom 
 he never mentioned had made his large fortune in a 
 pickle-factory. 
 
 " We all rise from the mud in one sense, and 
 all may be handsome flowers if we choose before we go 
 back, after blooming, to ripen our seeds at the bottom 
 of the water where we began," said Miss Scott's refined 
 voice, sounding softly after the masculine ones. 
 
 " I like that idea ! Thank you. Aunt Mary, for 
 giving me such a pretty fancy to add to my love for 
 water-lilies. I shall remember it, and try to be a 
 lovely one, not a bit ashamed to own that I came from 
 honest farmer stock," exclaimed the thoughtful girl 
 who had learned to know and love the sweet, wise 
 woman who was so motherly to all girls. 
 
 " Hear ! hear ! " cried Captain John, heartily ; for he 
 was very proud of his own brave name kept clean and 
 bright through a long line of sailor kin. 
 
 " Now let us sing or we shall have no time," sug- 
 gested Miss EUery, who warbled as well as rippled, 
 and did not wish to lose this opportunity of singing 
 certain sentimental songs appropriate to the hour. 
 
 So they tuned their pipes and made " music in the 
 air" for an hour, to the great delight of Sammy, who 
 joined in every song, and was easily persuaded to give 
 sundry nautical melodies in a shrill small voice which 
 convulsed his hearers with merriment. 
 
 " Euth sings awful well, but she won't afore folks," 
 he said, as he paused after a roaring ditty. 
 
 " She will for me ; " and Mr. Wallace went slowly up 
 to the rock not far away, where Euth sat alone listen- 
 
WATER-LILIES. 113 
 
 ing to the music as she rested after her long day's 
 work. 
 
 ''Such au's ! " said Miss Ellery, in a sharp tone 3 for 
 her " Wind of the Summer Night " had not gone well, 
 owing to a too copious supper. " Posing for Lorelei," 
 she added, as Ruth began to sing, glad to oblige the 
 kind old gentleman. They expected some queer ballad 
 or droning hymn, and were surprised when a clear sweet 
 voice gave them " The Three Fishers " and " Mary on 
 the Sands of Dee " with a simple pathos that made real 
 music-lovers thrill with pleasure, and filled several 
 pairs of eyes with tears. 
 
 "More, please, more ! " called Captain John, as she 
 paused ; and as if encouraged by the hearty applause 
 her one gift excited, she sang on as easily as a bird 
 till her small store was exhausted. 
 
 " I call that music," said Miss Scott, as she wiped 
 her eyes with a sigh of satisfaction. " It comes from 
 the heart and goes to the heart, as it should. Now 
 we don't want anything else, and had better go home 
 while the spell lasts." 
 
 Most of the party followed her example, and went to 
 thank and say good-night to Ruth, who felt as rich 
 and happy as a queen with the money ]\Ir. Wallace 
 had slipped into her pocket, and the pleasure which 
 even this short glimpse of a higher, happier life had 
 brought her hungry nature. 
 
 As the boats floated away, leaving' her alone on the 
 shore, she sent her farewell ringing over the water in 
 the words of the old song, "A Life on the Ocean Wave ; " 
 and every one joined in it with a will, especially Mr 
 
114 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 "Wallace and Captain John ; and so the evening picnic 
 ended tunefully and pleasantly for all, and was long 
 remembered by several. 
 
 After that day many "good times" came to Ruth 
 and Sammy ; and even poor old Grandpa had his share, 
 finding the last summer of his life very smooth sail- 
 ing as he slowly drifted into port. It seemed quite 
 natural that Captain John, being a sailor, should like 
 to go and read and " yarn " with the old fisherman ; so 
 no one wondered when he fell into the way of rowing 
 over to the Island very often with his pocket full of 
 newspapers, and whiling away the long hours in the 
 little house as full of sea smells and salt breezes as a 
 shell on the shore. 
 
 Miss Scott also took a fancy to go with her nephew ; 
 for, being an ardent botanist, she discovered that the 
 Island possessed many plants which she could not 
 find on the rocky point of land where the hotel and 
 cottages stood. The fresh-water pond was her especial 
 delight, and it became a sort of joke to ask, when she 
 came home brown and beaming with her treasures in 
 tin boxes, bottles, and bunches, — 
 
 " Well, Aunt Mary, have you seen the water-lilies 
 bloom yet 1 " and she always answered with that wise 
 smile of hers, — 
 
 " Not yet, but I 'm biding my time, and am watching 
 a very fine one with especial interest. When the right 
 moment comes, it will bloom and show its golden 
 heart to me, I hope." 
 
 Ruth never quite knew how it came about, but 
 books seemed to find their way to the Island and 
 
WATER-LILIES. 115 
 
 Stay there, to her great delight. A demand for lilies 
 sprang up, and when their day was over marsh- 
 rosemary became the rage. Sammy found a market 
 for all the shells and gulls' wings he could furnish, 
 and certain old curiosities brought from many voyages 
 were sold for sums which added many comforts to the 
 old sailor's last cruise. 
 
 Now the daily row to the Point was a pleasure, not 
 a trial, to Euth, — for Mr. Wallace was always ready 
 with a kind word or gift ; the ladies nodded as she 
 passed, and asked how the old Skipper was to-day; 
 Miss Scott often told her to stop at the cottage for 
 some new book or a moment's chat on her way to the 
 boat, and Captain John helped Sammy with his fishing 
 so much that the baskets were always full when they 
 came home. 
 
 All this help and friendliness put a wonderful energy 
 and sweetness into Euth's hard life, and made her 
 work seem light, her patient waiting for freedom easier 
 to bear cheerfully. She sang as she stood over her 
 wash-tub, cheered the long nights of watching with 
 the precious books, and found the few moments of 
 rest that came to her when the day's work was done 
 very pleasant, as she sat on her rock, watching the 
 lights from the Point, catching the sound of gay mu- 
 sic as the young people danced, and thinking over the 
 delightful talks she had with Miss Scott. Perhaps 
 the presence of a blue jacket in Grandpa's little bed- 
 room, the sight of a friendly brown face smiling when 
 she came in, and the sonorous murmur of a man's 
 voice reading aloud, added a charm to the girl's hum- 
 
116 A OAKLAND FOE GIELS. 
 
 drum life. She was too innocent and frank to deny 
 that she enjoyed these new friends, and welcomed 
 both with the same eagerness, saw both go with the 
 same regret, and often wondered how she ever had got 
 on without them. 
 
 But the modest fisher-maiden never dreamed of 
 any warmer feeling than kindness on the one side and 
 gratitude on the other; and this unconsciousness was 
 her greatest charm, especially to Captain John, who 
 hated coquettes, and shunned the silly girls who 
 wasted time in idle flirtation when they had far better 
 and wholesomer pastimes to enjoy. The handsome 
 sailor was a favorite, being handy at all sorts of fun, 
 and the oldest of the young men at the Point. He 
 was very courteous in his hearty way to every woman 
 he met, from the stateliest dowager to the dow- 
 diest waiter-girl, but devoted himself entirely to Aunt 
 Mary, and seemed to have no eyes for younger fairer 
 
 faces. 
 
 " He must have a sweetheart over the sea some- 
 where," the damsels said among themselves, as they 
 watched him pace the long piazzas alone, or saw him 
 swinging in his hammock with eyes dreamily fixed on 
 the blue bay before him. 
 
 Miss Scott only smiled when curious questions were 
 asked her, and said she hoped John would find his 
 mate some time, for he deserved the best wife in the 
 world, having been a good son and an honest boy for 
 six-and-twenty years. 
 
 "What is it, Captain, — a steamer T' asked Mr. 
 Fred, as he came by the cottage one August afternoon, 
 
WATEK-LILIES. 117 
 
 with his usual escort of girls, all talking at once about 
 some very interesting affair. 
 
 " Only a sail-boat ; no steamers to-day," answered 
 Captain John, dropping the glass from his eye with 
 a start. 
 
 " Can you see people on the Island with that thing 1 
 We want to know if Euth is at home, because if 
 she is n't we can't waste time going over," said Miss 
 Ellery, with her sweetest smile. 
 
 " I think not. That boat is Sammy's, and as there 
 is a speck of red aboard, I fancy Miss Euth is with him. 
 They are coming this way, so you can hail them if you 
 like," answered the sailor, with " a speck of red " on 
 his own sunburnt cheek if any one had cared to look. 
 
 " Then we '11 wait here if we may. We ordered her 
 to bring us a quantity of bulrushes and flowers for 
 our tableaux to-night, and we want her to be Eebecca 
 at the well. She is so dark, and with her hair down, 
 and gold bangles and scarlet shawls, I think she would 
 do nicely. It takes so long to arrange the 'Lily 
 Maid of Astolat ' we must have an easy one to come 
 just before that, and the boys are wild to make a 
 camel of themselves, so we planned this. Won't you 
 be Jacob or Abraham or whoever the man with the 
 bracelets was 1 " asked Miss Ellery, as they all settled 
 on the steps in the free-and-easy way which prevailed 
 at the Point. 
 
 " No, thank you, I don't act. Used to dance horn- 
 pipes in my young days, but gave up that sort of 
 thing some time ago." 
 
 " How unfortunate ! Every one acts ; it 's all the 
 
118 A GARLAND FOE GIRLS. 
 
 fashion," began Miss Ellery, rolling up her blue eyes 
 imploringly. 
 
 " So I see ; but I never cared much for theatricals, 
 I like natural things better." 
 
 " How unkind you are ! I quite depended on you 
 for that, since you would n't be a corsair." 
 
 " Fred 's the man for such fun. He 's going to star- 
 tle the crowd with a regular Captain Kidd rig, pistols 
 and cutlasses enough for a whole crew, and a terrific 
 beard." 
 
 "I know Euth won't do it, Floss, for she looked 
 amazed when I showed her my Undine costume, and 
 told her what I wanted the sea-weed for. ' Why, 
 you won't stand before all those folks dressed that 
 way, will youl' she said, as much scandalized as if 
 she 'd never seen a low-necked dress and silk stockings 
 before ;" and Miss Perry tossed her head with an air 
 of pity for a girl who could be surprised at the display 
 of a pretty neck and arms and ankles. 
 
 " We '11 hire her, then ; she 's a mercenary wretch 
 and will do anything for money. I won't be scrambled 
 into my boat in a hurry, and we must have Kebecca 
 because I 've borrowed a fine pitcher and promised 
 the boys their camel," said Miss Ellery, who consid- 
 ered herself the queen of the place and ruled like 
 one, in virtue of being the prettiest girl there and the 
 richest. 
 
 " She has landed, I think, for the boat is ofii" again 
 to the whai'f Better run down and help her with the 
 bulrushes, Fred, and the rest of the stuff you ordered," 
 suggested Captain John, longing to go himself but 
 
WATER-LILIES. 119 
 
 kept by his duty as host, Aunt Mary being asleep up- 
 stairs. 
 
 " Too tired. Won't hurt her ; she 's used to work, 
 and we must n't pamper her up, as old ladies say," an- 
 swered Mr. Fred, enjoying his favorite lounge on the 
 grass. 
 
 " I would n't ask her to act, if you '11 allow me to say 
 so," said Captain John, in his quiet way. "That sort 
 of thing might unsettle her and make her discon- 
 tented. She steers that little craft over there and is 
 happy now ; let her shape her own course, and remem- 
 ber it is n't well to talk to the man at the wheel." 
 
 Miss Perry stared ; Miss Ray, the sharp girl, nodded, 
 and Miss Ellery said petulantly, — 
 
 " As if it mattered what she thought or said or did ! 
 It 's her place to be useful if we want her, and we 
 need n't worry about spoiling a girl like that. She 
 can't be any prouder or more saucy than she is, and I 
 shall ask her if only to see the airs she will put on." 
 
 As she spoke Ruth came up the sandy path from 
 the beach laden with rushes and weeds, sunflowers and 
 shells, looking warm and tired but more picturesque 
 than ever, in her blue gown and the red handkerchief 
 she wore since her old hat blew away. Seeing the 
 party on the cottage steps, she stopped to ask if the 
 things were right, and Miss Ellery at once made her 
 request in a commanding tone which caused Ruth to 
 grow very straight and cool and sober all at once, and 
 answer decidedly, — 
 
 " I could n't anyway." 
 
 "Why not r' 
 
120 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 " Well, one reason is I don't think it 's right to act 
 things out of the Bible just to show off and amuse 
 folks." 
 
 " The idea of minding ! " and Miss Ellery frowned, 
 adding angrily, " We will pay you for it. I find people 
 will do anything for money down here." 
 
 " We are poor and need it, and this is our best time 
 to make it. I 'd do most anything to earn a little, but 
 not that ; " and Euth looked as proud as the young 
 lady herself. 
 
 " Then we '11 say no more if you are too elegant to do 
 what we don't mind at all. I '11 pay you for this stuff' 
 now, as I ordered it, and you need n't bring me any 
 more. How much do I owe you 1 " asked the offended 
 beauty, taking out her purse in a pet. 
 
 " Nothing. I 'm glad to oblige the ladies if I can, 
 for they have been very kind to me. Perhaps if you 
 knew why I want to earn money, you 'd understand 
 me better. Grandpa can't last long, and I don't want 
 the town to bury him. I 'm working and saving so 
 he can be buried decently, as he wants to be, not like 
 a pauper." 
 
 There was something in Euth's face and voice as 
 she said this, standing there shabby, tii'ed, and 
 heavy-laden, yet honest, dutiful and patient for love's 
 sake, that touched the hearts of those who looked and 
 listened ; but she left no time for any answer, for with 
 the last word she' went on quickly, as if to hide the 
 tears that dimmed her clear eyes and the quiver of 
 her lips. 
 
 " Floss, how could you ! " cried Miss Eay, and ran 
 
WATER-LILIES. 121 
 
 to take the sheaf of bulrushes from Euth's arms, fol- 
 lowed by the rest, all ashamed and repentant now that 
 a word had shown them the hard life going on beside 
 their idle, care-free ones. 
 
 Captain John longed to follow, but walked into the 
 house, growling to himself with a grim look, — 
 
 " That girl has no more heart than a buttei-fly, and 
 I 'd like to see her squirm on a pin ! Poor Euth ! we '11 
 settle that matter, and bury old Ben like an admiral, 
 hang me if we don't ! " 
 
 He was so busy talking the affair over with Aunt 
 Mary that he did not see the girl flit by to wait for 
 her boat on the beach, having steadily refused the 
 money offered her, though she accepted the apologies 
 in the kindest spirit. 
 
 The beach at this hour of the day was left to the 
 nurses and maids who bathed and gossiped while the 
 little people played in the sand or paddled in the sea. 
 Several were splashing about, and one German gov- 
 erness was scolding violently because while she was in 
 the bath-house her charge, a little girl of six, had 
 rashly ventured out in a flat-bottomed tub, as they 
 called the small boats used by the gentlemen to reach 
 the yachts anchored in deep water. 
 
 Euth saw the child's danger at a glance, for the 
 tide was going out, carrying the frail cockle-shell 
 rapidly away, while the child risked an upset every 
 moment by stretching her arms to the women on the 
 shore and calling them to help her. 
 
 None dared to try, but all stood and wrung their 
 hands, screaming like sea-gulls, till the girl, throwing 
 
122 A GAELAND FOE GIELS. 
 
 off shoes and heavy skirt plunged in, calling cheerily, 
 " Sit still ! I '11 come and get you, Milly ! " 
 
 She could swim like a fish, but encumbered with 
 her clothes and weary with an unusually hard day's 
 work, she soon found that she did not gain as rapidly 
 as she expected upon the receding boat. She did not 
 lose courage, but a thrill of anxiety shot through her 
 as she felt her breath grow short, her limbs heavy, and 
 the tide sweep her farther and farther from the shore. 
 
 '• If they would only stop screaming and go for 
 help, I could keep up and push the boat in ; but the 
 child will be out presently and then we are lost, for I 
 can't get back with her, I 'm afraid." 
 
 As these thoughts passed through her mind Ruth 
 was swimming stoutly, and trying by cheerful words 
 to keep the frightened child from risking their main 
 chance of safety. A few more strokes and she would 
 reach the boat, rest a moment, then, clinging to it, 
 push it leisurely to shore. Feeling that the danger 
 was over, she hurried on and was just putting up 
 her hands to seize the frail raft and get her 
 breath when Milly, thinking she was to be taken in 
 her arms, leaned forward. In rushed the water, 
 down went the boat, and out splashed the scream- 
 ing child to cling to Ruth with the desperate clutch 
 she dreaded. 
 
 Both went under for a moment, but rose again; 
 and with all her wits sharpened by the peril of the 
 moment, Ruth cried, as she kept herself afloat, — 
 
 " On my back, quick ! quick ! Don't touch my 
 arms ; hold tight to my hair, and keep still." 
 
WATER-LILIES. 123 
 
 Not realizing all the danger, and full of faith in 
 Ruth's power to do anything, after the feats of diving 
 and floating she had seen her perform, Milly scram- 
 bled up as often before, and clung spluttering and 
 gasping to Ruth's strong shoulders. So burdened, 
 and conscious of fast-failing strength, Ruth turned 
 toward the shore, and bent every power of mind and 
 body to her task. How far away it seemed ! how still 
 the women were, — not one even venturing out a little 
 vfSij to help her, and no man in sight ! Her heart 
 seemed to stop beating, her temples throbbed, her 
 breath was checked by the clinging arms, and the 
 child seemed to grow heavier every moment. 
 
 " I '11 do what I can, but, oh, why don't some one 
 come 1 " 
 
 That was the last thought Ruth was conscious of, 
 as she panted and ploughed slowly back, with such a 
 set white face and wide eyes fixed on the flag that 
 fluttered from the nearest cottage, that it was no won- 
 der the women grew still as they watched her. One 
 good Catholic nurse fell on her knees to pray; the 
 maids cried, the governess murmui'ed, " Mein Gott, I 
 am lost if the child go drowned ! " and clear and sweet 
 came the sound of Captain John's whistle as he stood 
 on his piazza waiting to row Ruth home. 
 
 They were nearly in, a few more strokes and she 
 could touch the bottom, when suddenly all grew black 
 before her eyes, and whispering, " I '11 float. Call, 
 Milly, and don't mind me," Ruth turned over, still 
 holding the child fast, and with nothing but her face 
 out of water, feebly struggled on. 
 
124 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 " Come and get me ! She 's going down ! Oh, 
 come, quick ! " called the child in a tone of such dis- 
 tress that the selfish German bestirred herself at last, 
 and began to wade cautiously in. Seeing help at 
 hand, brave little Milly soon let go, and struck out 
 like an energetic young frog, while Ruth, quite spent, 
 sank quietly down, with a dim sense that her last duty 
 was done and rest had come. 
 
 The shrill cries of the women when they saw the 
 steady white face disappear and rise no more, reached 
 Captain John's ear, and sent him flying down the path, 
 sure that some one was in danger. 
 
 " Ruth — gone down — out there ! " was all he 
 caught, as many voices tried to tell the tale ; and 
 waiting for no more, he threw off hat and coat, and 
 dashed into the sea as if ready to search the Atlantic 
 till he found her. 
 
 She was safe in a moment, and pausing only to send 
 one girl flying for the doctor, he carried his streaming 
 burden straight home to Aunt Mary, who had her 
 between blankets before a soul arrived, and was rub- 
 bing for dear life while John fired up the spirit lamp 
 for hot brandy and water, with hands that trembled 
 as he splashed about like an agitated JS'ewfoundland 
 fresh from a swim. 
 
 Ruth was soon conscious, but too much exhausted 
 to do or say anything, and lay quietly suffering the 
 discomforts of resuscitation till she fell asleep. 
 
 " Is Milly safe 1 " was all she asked, and being as- 
 sured that the child was in her mother's arms, and 
 Sammy had gone to tell Grandpa all about it, she 
 
WATEK-LILIES. 125 
 
 smiled and shut her eyes with a whispered, " Then it 's 
 all right, thank God ! " 
 
 All that evening Captain John paced the piazza, 
 and warned away the eager callers, who flocked down 
 to ask about the heroine of the hour ; for she was more 
 interesting than Undine, the Lily Maid, or any of the 
 pretty creatures attitudinizing behind the red curtains 
 in the hot hotel parlor. All that night Aunt Mary 
 watched the deep sleep that restored the girl, and now 
 and then crept out to tell her nephew there was noth- 
 ing to fear for one so strong and healthful. And all 
 night Ruth dreamed strange dreams, some weird and 
 dim, some full of pain and fear ; but as the fever of 
 reaction passed away, lovely visions of a happy place 
 came to her, where faces she loved were near, and rest, 
 and all she longed for was hers at last. So clear and 
 beautiful was this dream that she waked in the early 
 dawn to lie and think of it, with such a look of peace 
 upon her face that Aunt Mary could not but kiss it 
 tenderly when she came in to see if all was well. 
 
 " How are you, dear ? Has this nice long sleep set 
 you up again as I hoped "? " 
 
 " Oh yes, I 'm quite well, thank you, and I must go 
 home. Grandpa will worry so till he sees me," an- 
 swered Ruth, sitting up with her wet hair on her 
 shoulders, and a little shiver of pain as she stretched 
 her tired arms. 
 
 " Not yet, my dear ; rest another hour or two and 
 have some breakfast. Then, if you like, John shall 
 take you home before any one comes to plague you 
 with idle questions. I 'm not going to say a word, ex- 
 
126 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 cept that I 'm proud of my brave girl, and mean to 
 take care of her if she will let me." 
 
 With that and a motherly embrace, the old lady 
 bustled away to stir up her maid and wake John from 
 his first nap with the smell of coffee, a most unroman- 
 tic but satisfying perfume to all the weary watchers 
 in the house. 
 
 An hour later, dressed in Miss Scott's gray wrapper 
 and rose-colored shawl, Euth came slowly to the beach 
 leaning on Captain John's arm, while Aunt Mary 
 waved her napkin from the rocks above, and sent kind 
 messages after them as they pushed off. 
 
 It was the loveliest hour of all the day. The sun 
 had not yet risen, but sea and sky were rosy with the 
 flush of dawn ; the small waves rippled up the sand, 
 the wind blew fresh and fragrant from hayfields far 
 away, and in the grove the birds were singing, as they 
 only sing at peep of day. A still, soft, happy time 
 before the work and worry of the world began, the 
 peaceful moment which is so precious to those who 
 have learned to love its balm and consecrate its beauty 
 with their prayers. 
 
 Ruth sat silent, looking about her as if she saw a 
 new heaven and earth, and had no words in which to 
 tell the feeling that made her eyes so soft, sent the 
 fresh color back into her cheeks, and touched her lips 
 with something sweeter than a smile. 
 
 Captain John rowed very slowly, watching her 
 with a new expression in his face ; and when she 
 drew a long breath, a happy sort of sigh, he leaned 
 forward to ask, as if he knew what brought it, — 
 
WATER-LILIES. 127 
 
 "You are glad to be alive, Euth 1 " 
 
 " Oh, so glad ! I did n't want to die ; life 's very- 
 pleasant now," she answered, with her frank eyes 
 meeting his so gratefully. 
 
 " Even though it 's hard 1 " 
 
 " It 's easier lately ; you and dear Miss Mary have 
 helped so much, I see my way clear, and mean to go 
 right on, real brave and cheerful, sure I '11 get my 
 wish at last." 
 
 " So do I ! " and Captain John laughed a queer, 
 happy laugh, as he bent to his oars again, with the 
 look of a man who knew where he was going and 
 longed to get there as soon as possible. 
 
 " I hope you will. I wish I could help anyway to 
 pay for all you 've done for me. I know you don't 
 want to be thanked for fishing me up, but I mean to 
 do it all the same, if I can, some time ; " and Ruth's 
 voice was full of tender energy as she looked down 
 into the deep green water where her life would have 
 ended but for him. 
 
 " What did you think of when you went down so 
 quietly ] Those women said you never called for help 
 once." 
 
 " I had no breath to call. I knew you were near, 
 I hoped you 'd come, and I thought of poor Gi'andpa 
 and Sammy as I gave up and seemed to go to 
 sleep." 
 
 A very simple answer, but it made Captain John 
 beam with delight ; and the morning red seemed to 
 glow all over his brown face as he rowed across the 
 quiet bay, looking at Euth sitting opposite, so changed 
 
128 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 by the soft becoming colors of her dress, the late dan- 
 ger, and the dreams that still lingered in her mind, 
 making it hard to feel that she was the same girl who 
 went that way only a day ago. 
 
 Presently the Captain spoke again in a tone that 
 was both eager and anxious, — 
 
 " I 'm glad my idle summer has n't been quite wasted. 
 It 's over now, and I 'm oflf in a few days for a year's 
 cruise, you know." 
 
 " Yes, Miss Mary told me you were going soon. I '11 
 miss you both, but maybe you '11 come next year ] " 
 
 " I will, please God ! " 
 
 " So will I ; for even if I get away this fall, I 'd love 
 to come again in summer and rest a little while, no 
 matter what I find to do." 
 
 " Come and stay with Aimt Mary if this home is 
 gone. I shall want Sammy next time. I 've settled 
 that with the Skipper, you know, and I '11 take good 
 care of the little chap. He 's not much younger than 
 I was when I shipped for my first voyage. You '11 let 
 him go 1 " 
 
 " Anywhere with you. He 's set his heart on being 
 a sailor, and Grandpa likes it. All our men are, and 
 I 'd be one if I were a boy. I love the sea so, I 
 could n't be happy long away from it." 
 
 " Even though it nearly drowned you 1 " 
 
 "Yes, I 'd rather die that way than any other. But 
 it was my fault ; I should n't have failed if I had n't 
 been so tired. I 've often swum farther ; but I 'd been 
 three hours in the marsh getting those things for the 
 girls, and it was washing-day, and I 'd been up nearly 
 
WATEE-LILIES. 129 
 
 all night with Grandpa ; so don't blame the sea, please, 
 Captain John." 
 
 " You should have called me ; I was waiting for you, 
 Euth." 
 
 " I did n't know it. I 'm used to doing things my- 
 self. It might have been too late for Milly if I 'd 
 waited." 
 
 " Thank God, I was n't too late for you." 
 
 The boat was at the shore now ; and as he spoke 
 Captain John held out his hands to help Ruth down, 
 for, encumbered with her long dress, and still weak 
 from past suffering, she could not spring to land as 
 she used to do in her short gown. For the first 
 time the color deepened in her cheek as she looked 
 into the face before her and read the meaning of the 
 eyes that found her beautiful and dear, and the lips 
 that thanked God for her salvation so fervently. 
 
 She did not speak, but let him lift her down, 
 draw her hand through his arm, and lead her up the 
 rocky slope to the little pool that lay waiting for the 
 sun's first rays to wake from its sleep. He paused 
 there, and with his hand on hers said quietly, — 
 
 " Ruth, before I go I want to tell you something, 
 and this is a good time and place. While Aunt Mary 
 watched the flowers, I 've watched you, and found 
 the girl I 've always wanted for my wife. Modest 
 and brave, dutiful and true, that 's what I love ; could 
 you give me all this, dear, for the little I can offer, 
 and next year sail with Sammy and a very happy 
 man if you say yes 1 " 
 
 " I 'm not half good and wise enough for that 1 
 
 (116) Q 
 
130 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS, 
 
 Eemember what I am," began Ruth, bending her head 
 as if the thought were more than she could bear. 
 
 " I do remember, and I 'm proud of it ! Why, 
 dear heart, I 've worked my way up from a common 
 sailor, and am the better for it. Now I 've got my 
 ship, and I want a mate to make a home for me 
 aboard and ashore. Look up and tell me that I 
 did n't read those true eyes wrong." 
 
 Then Ruth lifted up her face, . and the sunshine 
 showed him all he asked to know, as she answered 
 with her heart in her voice and the " true eyes " fixed 
 on his, — 
 
 " I tried not to love you, knowing what a poor 
 ignorant girl I am ; but you were so kind to me, how 
 could I help it, John 1 " 
 
 That satisfied him, and he sealed his happy thanks 
 on the innocent lips none had kissed but the little 
 brother, the old man, and the fresh winds of the sea. 
 
 One can imagine the welcome they met at the small 
 brown house, and what went on inside as Grandpa 
 blessed the lovers, and Sammy so overflowed with joy 
 at his enchanting prospects, that he was obliged to 
 vent his feelings in ecstatic jigs upon the beach, to 
 the great amazement of the gulls and sandpipers at 
 breakfast there. 
 
 No one at the Point, except a certain dear old 
 lady, knew the pleasant secret, though many curious 
 or friendly visitors went to the Island that day to see 
 the heroine and express their wonder, thanks, and ad- 
 miration. All agreed that partial drowning seemed to 
 suit the girl, for a new Ruth had risen like Venus 
 
WATER-LILIES. 131 
 
 from the sea. A softer beauty was in her fresh face 
 now, a gentler sort of pride possessed her, and a still 
 more modest shrinking from praise and publicity be- 
 came her well. No one guessed the cause, and she was 
 soon forgotten ; for the season was over, the summer 
 guests departed, and the Point was left to the few cot- 
 tagers who loved to linger into golden September. 
 
 Miss Mary was one of these, and Captain John 
 another ; for he remained as long as he dared, to 
 make things comfortable for the old man, and to sit 
 among the rocks with Euth when her day's work was 
 done, listening while his " Mermaid," as he called 
 her, sang as she had never sung before, and let him 
 read the heart he had made his own, for the lily was 
 wide open now, and its gold all his. 
 
 With the first frosts Grandpa died, and was car- 
 ried to his grave by his old comrades, owing no man 
 a cent, thanks to his dutiful granddaughter and the 
 new son she had given him. Then the little house 
 was deserted, and all winter Ruth was happy with 
 Aunt Mary, while Sammy studied bravely, and lived on 
 dreams of the joys in store for him when the Captain 
 came sailing home again. 
 
 Another summer brought the happy day when the 
 little brown house was set in order for a sailoi''s honey- 
 moon, when the flag floated gayly over INIiss Mary's 
 cottage, and Ruth in a white gown with her chosen 
 flowers in her hair and bosom, shipped with her dear 
 Captain for the long cruise which had its storms and 
 calms, but never any shipwreck of the love that grew 
 and blossomed with the water-lilies by the sea. 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 
 
 As the great steamer swung round into the stream 
 the cloud of white handkerchiefs waving on the wharf 
 melted away, the last good-byes grew fainter, and 
 those who went and those who stayed felt that the 
 parting was over, — 
 
 " It may be for years, and it may be forever," 
 as the song says. 
 
 With only one of the many groups on the deck 
 need we concern ourselves, and a few words will in- 
 troduce our fellow-travellers. A brisk middle-aged 
 lady leaned on the arm of a middle-aged gentleman 
 in spectacles, both wearing the calmly cheerful air of 
 people used to such scenes, and conscious only of the 
 relief change of place brings to active minds and busy 
 lives. 
 
 Before them stood two girls, evidently their charges, 
 and as evidently not sisters, for in all respects they 
 were a great contrast. The younger was a gay crea- 
 ture of seventeen, in an effective costume of navy-blue 
 and white, with bright hair blowing in the wind, 
 sparkling eyes roving everywhere, lively tongue go- 
 ing, and an air of girlish excitement pleasant to see. 
 Both hands were full of farewell bouquets, which she 
 surveyed with more pride than tenderness as she 
 
POPPIES AND WHEA1„ 133 
 
 glanced at another group of girls less blessed with 
 floral offerings. 
 
 Her companion was a small, quiet person, some 
 years older than herself, very simply dressed, laden 
 with wraps, and apparently conscious just then of 
 nothing but three dark specks on the wharf, as she 
 still waved her little white flag, and looked shoreward 
 with eyes too dim for seeing. A sweet, modest face 
 it was, with intelligent eyes, a firm mouth, and the 
 look of one who had early learned self-reliance and 
 self-control. 
 
 The lady and gentleman watched the pair with in- 
 terest and amusement; for both liked young people, 
 and were anxious to know these two better, since they 
 were to be their guides and guardians for six months. 
 Professor Homer was going abroad to look up certain 
 important facts for his great historical work, and as 
 usual took his wife with him ; for they had no family, 
 and the good lady was ready to march to any quarter 
 of the globe at short notice. Fearing to be lonely 
 while her husband pored over old papers in foreign 
 libraries, Mrs. Homer had invited Ethel Amory, a 
 friend's daughter, to accompany her. Of course the 
 invitation was gladly accepted, for it was a rare oppor- 
 tunity to travel in such company, and Ethel was wild 
 with delight at the idea. One thorn, however, vexed 
 her, among the roses with which her way seemed 
 strewn. Mamma would not let her take a French 
 maid, but preferred a young lady as companion ; for, 
 three being an awkward number, a fourth party would 
 be not only convenient, but necessary on the girl's ac- 
 
134 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 count, since she was not used to take care of herself 
 and Mrs. Homer could only be expected to act as 
 chaperone. 
 
 "Jane Bassett is just the person I want, and Jane 
 shall go. She needs a change after teaching all these 
 years ; it will do her a world of good, for she will im- 
 prove and enjoy every moment, and the salary I shall 
 offer her will make it worth her while," said Mrs. 
 Amory, as she discussed the plan with her daughter. 
 
 "She is only three years older than I am, and I 
 hate to be taken care of, and watched, and fussed 
 over. I can order a maid round, but a companion is 
 worse than a governess ; such people are always sen- 
 sitive and proud, and hard to get on with. Every one 
 takes a maid, and I 'd set my heart on that nice Marie 
 who wants to go home, and talks such lovely French. 
 Do let me have her, Mamma ! " begged Ethel, who 
 was a spoiled child and usually got her own way. 
 
 But for once Mamma stood firm, having a strong 
 desire to benefit her daughter by the society of better 
 companions than the gay girls of her own set, also to 
 give a great pleasure to good little Jane Bassett, who 
 had been governessing ever since she was sixteen, 
 with very few vacations in her hard, dutiful life. 
 
 " JSTo, darling, I have asked Jane, and if her mother 
 can spare her, Jane it shall be. She is just what you 
 need, — sensible and kind, intelligent and capable ; not 
 ashamed to do anything for you, and able to teach 
 you a great deal in a pleasant way. Mrs. Homer ap- 
 proves of her, and T am sure you will be glad by-and- 
 by ; for travelling is not all "fun," as you expect, and 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 135 
 
 I don't want you to be a burden on our friends. You 
 two young things can take care of each other while 
 the Professor and his wife are busy with their own 
 affairs; and Jane is a far better companion for you 
 than that coquettish French woman, who will prob- 
 ably leave you in the lurch as soon as you reach 
 Paris. I should n't have a moment's peace if you 
 were left with her, but I have entire confidence in 
 Jane Bassett because she is faithful, discreet, and a 
 true lady in all things." 
 
 There was no more to be said, and Ethel pouted in 
 vain. Jane accepted the place with joy ; and after a 
 month of delightful hurry they were off, one all eager- 
 ness for the new world, the other full of tender regret 
 for the dear souls left behind. How they got on, and 
 what they learned, remains to be told. 
 
 " Come, Miss Bassett, we can't see them any longer, 
 so we may as well begin to enjoy ourselves. You 
 might take those things down below, and settle the 
 stateroom a bit ; I 'm going to walk about and get 
 my bearings before lunch. You will find me some- 
 where round." 
 
 Ethel spoke with a little tone of command, having 
 made up her mind to be mistress and keep Jane 
 Bassett in her place, though she did know three lan- 
 guages and sketched much better than Miss Amory. 
 
 Jenny, as we who are going to be her bosom friends 
 will call her, nodded cheerfully, and looked about for 
 the stairway ; for, never having been on a steamer 
 before, she was rather bewildered. 
 
 " I '11 show you the way, my dear. I always get 
 
136 A OAKLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 my things settled at once, as one never knows when 
 one may have to turn in. The Professor will go with 
 you, Ethel ; it is not proper for you to roam about 
 alone ; " and with that hint Mrs. Homer led the way 
 below, privately wondering how these young persons 
 were going to get on together. 
 
 Jane swallowed her " heimweh " in silence, and be- 
 stirred herself so well that soon the stateroom looked 
 very cosy with the wrappers laid ready, the hanging 
 bags tacked up, and all made ship-shape for the ten 
 days' trip. 
 
 "But where are your comforts'? You have given 
 Ethel all the room, the lower berth, and the best of 
 everything," said Mrs. Homer, popping in her head to 
 see how her quiet neighbor got on. 
 
 " Oh, I live in my trunk ; I did n't bring half as 
 many little luxuries as Ethel did, so I don't need as 
 much room. I 'm used to living in corners like a 
 mouse, and I get on very well," answered Jane, look- 
 ing very like a mouse just then, as she peeped out of 
 the upper berth, with her gray gown, bright eyes, and 
 quick nod of contentment. 
 
 "Well, my dear, I've just one word of advice to 
 give you. Don't let that child tyrannize over you. 
 She means well, but is wilful and thoughtless, and it 
 is not your duty to be made a slave of. Assert your- 
 self and she will obey and respect you, and you will 
 help her a great deal. I know all about it ; I was a 
 companion in my youth, and had a hard time of it till 
 I revolted and took my proper place. Now let us go 
 up and enjoy the fine air while we can." 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 137 
 
 "Thank you, I will remember;" and Jane offered 
 the good lady her arm, with a feeling of gratitude for 
 such friendliness, all being new and strange to her, 
 and many doubts of her own fitness for the position 
 lying heavy at her heart. 
 
 But soon all was forgotten as she sat on deck watch- 
 ing the islands, lighthouses, ships, and shores glide by 
 as she went swiftly out to sea that bright June day. 
 Here was the long-cherished desire of her life come to 
 pass at last, and now the parting with mother and 
 sisters was over, nothing but pleasure remained, and 
 a very earnest purpose to improve this unexpected 
 opportunity to the uttermost. The cares of life had 
 begun early for little Jane, she being the eldest of the 
 three girls, and her mother a widow. First came hard 
 study, then a timid beginning as nursery governess; 
 and as year by year the teaching of others taught her, 
 she ventured on till here she was companion to a fine 
 young lady "going abroad," where every facility for 
 acquiring languages, studying history, seeing the best 
 pictures, and enjoying good society would all be hers. 
 No wonder the quiet face under the modest gray hat 
 beamed, as it turned wistfully toward the unknown 
 world before her, and that her thoughts were so far 
 away, she was quite unconscious of the kind eyes 
 watching her, as Mrs. Homer sat placidly knitting 
 beside her. 
 
 " I shall like the Mouse, I 'm quite sure. Hope 
 Lemuel will be as well satisfied. Ethel is charming 
 when she chooses, but will need looking after, that 's 
 plain," thought the lady as she glanced down the 
 
138 A GAELANU FOR GIRLS. 
 
 deck to where her husband stood talkmg with several 
 gentlemen, while his charge was already making friends 
 with the gay girls who were to be her fellow-passengers. 
 
 " Daisy Millers, I fear," went on Mrs. Homer, who 
 had a keen eye for character, and was as fond of 
 studying the people about her as the Professor was of 
 looking up dead statesmen, kings, and warriors. The 
 young ladies certainly bore some resemblance to the 
 type of American girl which one never fails to meet in 
 travelling. They were dressed in the height of the 
 fashion, pretty with the delicate evanescent beauty of 
 too many of our girls, and all gifted with the loud 
 voices, shrill laughter, and free-and-easy manners 
 which so astonish decorous English matrons and 
 maids. Ethel was evidently impressed with their 
 style, as they had a man and maid at their beck and 
 call, and every sign of ostentatious wealth about them. 
 A stout papa, a thin mamma, evidently worn out with 
 the cares of the past winter, three half-grown girls, 
 and a lad of sixteen made up the party ; and a very 
 lively one it was, as the Professor soon found, for he 
 presently bowed himself away, and left Ethel to her 
 new friends, since she smilingly refused to leave them, 
 
 " Ought I to go to her 1 " asked Jenny, waking from 
 her happy reverie to a sudden sense of duty as the 
 gentleman sat down beside her. 
 
 " Oh dear, no, she is all right. Those are the Sib- 
 leys of New York. Her father knows them, and she 
 will find them a congenial refuge when she tires of us 
 quiet folk ; and you too, perhaps 1 " added the Professor 
 as he glanced at the girl. 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 139 
 
 " I think not. I should not be welcome to them, 
 nor are they the sort of people I like. I shall be 
 very happy with the 'quiet folk,' if they won't let me 
 be in the way," answered Jenny, in the cheerful voice 
 that reminded one of the chirp of a robin. 
 
 " We won't ; we '11 toss yoix overboard as soon as 
 you begin to scream and bounce in that style," he 
 answered, laughing at the idea of this demure young 
 person's ever dreaming of such a thing. Jeuny 
 laughed also, and ran to pick up Mrs. Homer's ball, as 
 it set out for a roll into the lee-scuppcrs. As she 
 brought it back she found the Professor examining 
 the book she left behind her. 
 
 " Like all young travellers you cling to your ' Bae- 
 deker,' I see, even in the first excitement of the start. 
 He is a useful fellow, but I know my Europe so well 
 now, I don't need him." 
 
 " I thought it would be wise to read up our route a 
 little, then I need n't ask questions. They must be 
 very tiresome to people who know all about it," said 
 Jenny, regarding him with an expression of deep re- 
 spect, for she considered him a sort of walking ency- 
 clopasdia of universal knowledge. 
 
 It pleased the learned man, who was kindly as well 
 as wise, and loved to let his knowledge overflow into 
 any thirsty mind, however small the cup might be. 
 He liked the intelligent face before him, and a timid 
 question or two set him off on his favorite hobby at a 
 pleasant amble, with Jenny on the pillion behind, as 
 it were. She enjoyed it immensely, and was deep in 
 French history, when the lunch gong recalled her from 
 
140 A GAELAND FOR GIELS. 
 
 Francis I. and his sister Margaret to chops and 
 Enghsh ale. 
 
 Ethel came prancing back to her own party, full of 
 praises of the Sibleys, and the fun they meant to have 
 together. 
 
 " They are going to the Langham ; so we shall be 
 able to go about with them, and they know all the 
 best shops, and some lords and ladies, and expect to 
 be in Paris when we are, and that will be a great help 
 with our dresses and things." 
 
 " But we are not going to shop and have new dresses 
 till we are on our way home, you know. Now we 
 have n't time for such things, and can't trouble the 
 Homers with more trunks," answered Jenny, as they 
 followed their elders to the table. 
 
 " I shall buy what I like, and have ten trunks if 
 it suits me. I 'm not going to poke round over old 
 books and ruins, and live in a travelling-dress all the 
 time. You can do as you like ; it 's different with me, 
 and / know what is proper." 
 
 With which naughty speech Ethel took her seat 
 first at the table, and began to nod and smile at the 
 Sibleys opposite. Jenny set her lips and made no 
 answer, but ate her lunch with what appetite she 
 could, trying to forget her troubles in listening to the 
 chat going on around her. 
 
 All that afternoon Ethel left her to herself, and 
 enjoyed the more congenial society of the new ac- 
 quaintances. Jenny was tired, and glad to read and 
 dream in the comfortable seat Mrs. Homer left her 
 when she went for her nap. 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 141 
 
 By sunset the sea grew rough and people began to 
 vanish below. There were many empty places at 
 dinner-time, and those who appeared seemed to have 
 lost their appetites suddenly. The Homers were good 
 sailors, but Jenny looked pale, and Ethel said her 
 head ached, though both kept up bravely till nine 
 o'clock, when the Sibleys precipitately retired after 
 supper, and Ethel thought she might as well go to 
 bed early to be ready for another pleasant day to- 
 morrow. 
 
 Jenny had a bad night, but disturbed no one. 
 Ethel slept soundly, and sprang up in the morning, 
 eager to be the first on deck. But a sudden lurch 
 sent her and her hair-brush into a corner ; and when 
 she rose, everything in the stateroom seemed to be 
 turning somersaults, while a deathly faintness crept 
 over her. 
 
 " Oh, wake up, Jane ! We are sinking ! What is it ? 
 Help me, help me ! " and with a dismal wail Ethel 
 tumbled into her berth in the first anguish of sea- 
 sickness. 
 
 We will draw the curtain for three days, during 
 which rough weather and general despair reigned. 
 Mrs. Homer took care of the girls till Jenny was able 
 to sit up and amuse Ethel ; but the' latter had a hard 
 time of it, for a series of farewell lunches had left her 
 in a bad state for a sea-voyage, and the poor girl could 
 not lift her head for days. The new-made friends did 
 not trouble themselves about her after a call of con- 
 dolence, but faithful Jenny sat by her hour after hour, 
 reading and talking by day, singing her to sleep at 
 
142 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 night, aud often creeping from her bed on the sofa 
 to light her little candle and see that her charge was 
 warmly covered and quite comfortable. Ethel was 
 used to being petted, so she was not very grateful ; but 
 she felt the watchful care about her, and thought Jane 
 almost as handy a person as a maid, and told her so. 
 
 Jenny thanked her and said nothing of her own dis- 
 comforts; but Mrs. Homer saw them, and wrote to 
 Mrs. Amory that so far the companion was doing ad- 
 mirably and all that could be desired. A few days 
 later she added more commendations to the journal- 
 letters she kept for the anxious mothers at home, and 
 this serio-comical event was the cause of her fresh 
 praises. 
 
 The occupants of the deck staterooms were wakened 
 in the middle of the night by a crash and a cry, and 
 starting up found that the engines were still, and 
 something was evidently the matter somewhere. A 
 momentary panic took place ; ladies screamed, chil- 
 dren cried, and gentlemen in queer costumes burst 
 out of their rooms, excitedly demanding, "What is 
 the matter?" 
 
 As no lamps are allowed in the rooms at night, 
 darkness added to the alarm, and it was some time 
 before the real state of the case was known. Mrs. 
 Homer went at once to the frightened girls, and fovmd 
 Ethel clinging to Jenny, who was trying to find the 
 life-preservers lashed to the wall. 
 
 ** We 've struck ! Don't leave me ! Let us die to- 
 gether ! Oh, why did I come"? why did I come?" 
 she wailed; while the other girl answered with a 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 143 
 
 brave attempt at cheerfulness, as she put over Ethel's 
 head the only life-preserver she could find, — 
 
 " I will ! I will ! Be calm, dear ! I guess there is 
 no immediate danger. Hold fast to this while I try to 
 find something warm for you to put on." 
 
 In a moment Jenny's candle shone like a star of 
 hope in the gloom, and by the time the three had got 
 into wrappers and shawls, a peal of laughter from the 
 Professor assured them that the danger could not be 
 great. Other sounds of merriment, as well as Mrs. 
 Sibley's voice scolding violently, was heard ; and pres- 
 ently Mr. Homer came to tell them to be calm, for the 
 stoppage was only to cool the engines, and the noise 
 was occasioned by Joe Sibley's tumbling out of his 
 berth in a fit of nightmare caused by Welsh rarebits 
 and poached eggs at eleven at night. 
 
 Much relieved, and a little ashamed now of their 
 fright, every one subsided ; but Ethel could not sleep, 
 and clung to Jenny in an hysterical state till a soft 
 voice began to sing "Abide with me" so. sweetly that 
 more than one agitated listener blessed the singer and 
 fell asleep before the comforting hynm ended, 
 
 Ethel was up next day, and lay on the Professor's 
 bearskin rug on deck, looking pale and interesting, 
 while the Sibleys sat by her talking over the exciting 
 event of the night, to poor Joe's great disgust. Jenny 
 crept to her usual corner, and sat with a book on her 
 lap, quietly reviving in the fresh air till she was able 
 to enjoy the pleasant chat of the Homers, who estab- 
 lished 'themselves near by and took care of her, learn- 
 ing each day to love and respect the faithful little soul 
 
144 A GAELAND FOE GIRLS. 
 
 who kept her worries to herself, and looked brightly 
 forward no matter how black the sky might be. 
 
 Only one other incident of the voyage need be told ; 
 but as that marked a change in the relations between 
 the two girls it is worth recording. 
 
 As she prepared for bed late one evening, Mrs. 
 Homer heard Jenny say in a tone never used before, — 
 
 " My dear, I must say something to you or I shall 
 not feel as if I were doing my duty. I promised your 
 mother that you should keep early hours, as you are 
 not very strong and excitement is bad for you. Now, 
 you woTbt come to bed at ten, as I ask you to every night, 
 but stay up playing cards or sitting on deck till nearly 
 every one but the Sibleys is gone. Mrs. Homer waits 
 for us, and is tired, and it is very rude to keep her up. 
 Will you please do as you ought, and not oblige me to 
 say you must 1 " 
 
 Ethel was sleepy and cross, and answered pettishly, 
 as she held out her foot to have her boot unbuttoned, 
 — for Jenny, anxious to please, refused no service asked 
 of her, — 
 
 "I shall do as I like, and you and Mrs. Homer 
 need n't trouble yourselves about me. Mamma wished 
 me to have a good time, and I shall ! There is no 
 harm in staying up to enjoy the moonlight, and sing 
 and tell stories. Mrs. Sibley knows what is proper 
 better than you do." 
 
 " I don't think she does, for she goes to bed and 
 leaves the girls to flirt with those officers in a way 
 that I know is not proper," answered Jenny, firmly. 
 " I should be very sorry to hear them say of you as 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 145 
 
 they did of the Sibley girls, ' They are a wild lot, but 
 great fun.' " 
 
 " Did they say that 1 How impertinent ! " and Ethel 
 bridled up like a ruffled chicken, for she was not out 
 yet, and had not lost the modest instincts that so soon 
 get blunted when a frivolous fashionable life begins. 
 
 " I heard them, and I know that the well-bred 
 people on board do not like the Sibleys' noisy ways 
 and bad manners. Now, you, my dear, are young and 
 unused to this sort of life ; so you cannot be too care- 
 ful what you say and do, and with whom you go." 
 
 " Good gracious ! any one would think i/ou were as 
 wise as Solomon and as old as the hills. You are 
 young, and ^ou have n't travelled, and don't know 
 any more of the world than I do, — not so much of 
 some things ; so you need n't preach." 
 
 " I 'm not wise nor old, but I do know more of the 
 world than you, for I began to take care of myself and 
 earn my living at sixteen, and four years of hard work 
 have taught me a great deal. I am to watch over you, 
 and I intend to do it faithfully, no matter what you 
 say, nor how hard you make it for me ; because I 
 promised, and I shall keep my word. We are not to 
 trouble Mrs. Homer with our little worries, but try to 
 help each other and have a really good time. I will 
 do anything for you that I can, but I shall not let you 
 do things which I would n't allow my own sisters to do, 
 and if you refuse to mind me, I shall write to your 
 mother and ask to go home. My conscience won't let 
 me take money and pleasure unless I earn tliem and 
 do my duty." 
 
 (44U> iQ 
 
146 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 " Well, upon my word ! " cried Ethel, much im- 
 pressed by such a decided speech from gentle Jane, 
 and dismayed at the idea of being taken home in 
 disgrace. 
 
 " We won't talk any more now, because we may get 
 angry and say what we should be sorry for. I am 
 sure you will see that I am right when you think it 
 over quietly. So good-night, dear.'' 
 
 "Good-night," was all the reply Ethel gave, and a 
 long silence followed. 
 
 Mrs. Homer could not help hearing as the state- 
 rooms were close together, and the well-ventilated doors 
 made all conversation beyond a whisper audible. 
 
 " I did n't think Jane had the spirit to talk like 
 that. She has taken my hint and asserted herself, 
 and I 'm very glad, for Ethel miist be set right at 
 once or we shall have no peace. She will respect and 
 obey Jane after this, or I shall be obliged to say my 
 word." 
 
 Mrs. Homer was right, and before her first nap set 
 in she heard a meek voice say, — 
 
 "Are you asleep. Miss Bassetf?" 
 
 " No, dear." 
 
 " Then I want to say, I 've thought it over. Please 
 doiiH write to mamma, I '11 be good. I 'm sorry I was 
 rude to you ; do forgive — " 
 
 The sentence was not ended, for a sudden rustle, a 
 little sob, and several hearty kisses plainly told that 
 Jenny had flown to pardon, comfort, and caress her 
 naughty child, and that all was well. 
 
 After that Ethel's behavior was painfully decorous 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 147 
 
 for the rest of the voyage, which, fortunately for her 
 good resolutions, ended at Queenstown, much to her 
 regret. The Homers thought a glimpse at Ireland 
 and Scotland would be good for the girls ; and as the 
 Professor had business in Edinburgh this was the 
 better route for all parties. But Ethel longed for 
 London, and refused to see any beauty in the Lakes 
 of Killarney, turned up her nose at jaunting-cars, and 
 pronounced Dublin a stupid place. 
 
 Scotland suited her better, and she could not help 
 enjoying the fine scenery with such companions as the 
 Homers ; for the Professor knew all about the relics and 
 ruins, and his wife had a memory richly stored with 
 the legends, poetry, and romance which make dull facts 
 memorable and history enchanting. 
 
 But Jenny's quiet rapture was pleasant to behold. 
 She had not scorned Scott's novels as old-fashioned, 
 and she peopled the cottages and castles with his heroes 
 and heroines ; she crooned Burns's sweet songs to her- 
 self as she visited his haunts, and went about in a 
 happy sort of dream, with her head full of Highland 
 Mary, Tarn o' Shanter, field-mice and daisies, or fought 
 terrific battles with Fitz-James and Marmion, and tried 
 if "the light harebell" would "raise its head, elastic 
 from her airy tread," as it did from the Lady of the 
 Lake's famous foot. 
 
 Ethel told her she was "clean daft;" but Jenny 
 said, " Let me enjoy it while I can. I 've dreamed of it 
 so long I can hardly realize that it has come, and I 
 cannot lose a minute of it;" so she absorbed Scotch 
 poetry and romance with the mist and the keen air 
 
148 A OAKLAND FOR GIELS. 
 
 from the moors, and bloomed like the bonnie heather 
 which she loved to wear. 
 
 " What shall we do this rainy day in this stupid 
 place?" said Ethel, one morning when bad weather 
 kept them from an excursion to Stirling Castle. 
 
 " Write our journals and read up for the visit ; then 
 we shall know all about the castle, and need not tii-e 
 people with our questions," answered Jenny, already 
 established in a deep window-seat of their parlor at 
 the hotel with her books and portfolio. 
 
 " I don't keep a journal, and I hate to read guide- 
 books ; it 's much easier to ask, though there is very 
 little I care for about these mouldy old places," said 
 Ethel with a yawn, as she looked out into the muddy 
 street. 
 
 " How can you say so ? Don't you care for poor 
 Mary, and Prince Charlie, and all the other sad and 
 romantic memories that haunt the country 1 Why, it 
 seems as real to me as if it happened yesterday, and 
 I never can forget anything about the place or the 
 people now. Really, dear, I think you ought to take 
 more interest and improve this fine chance. Just see 
 how helpful and lovely Mrs. Homer is, with a quotation 
 for every famous spot we see. It adds so much to our 
 pleasure, and makes her so interesting. I 'm going to 
 learn some of the fine bits in this book of hers, and 
 make them my own, since I cannot buy the beautiful 
 little set this Burns belongs to. Don't you want to try 
 it, and while away the dull day by hearing each other 
 recite and talking over the beautiful places we have 
 seen 1 " 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 149 
 
 " No, thank you ; no study for me. It is to be all 
 play now. Why tire my wits with that Scotch stuff 
 when Mrs. Homer is here to do it for me 1 " and lazy 
 Ethel turned to the papers on the table for amusement 
 more to her taste. 
 
 " But we should n't think only of our own pleasure, 
 you know. It is so sweet to be able to teach, amuse, 
 or help others in any way. I 'm glad to learn this new 
 accomplishment, so that I may be to some one by-and- 
 by what dear Mrs. Homer is to us now, if I ever can. 
 Did n't you see how charmed those English people 
 were at Holyrood when she was reciting those fine 
 lines to us ] The old gentleman bowed and thanked 
 her, and the handsome lady called her ' a book of 
 elegant extracts.' I thought it was such a pretty 
 and pleasant thing that I described it all to mother 
 and the girls." 
 
 " So it was ; but did you know that the party was 
 Lord Cumberland and his family "? The guide told me 
 afterward. I never guessed they were anybody, in such 
 plain tweed gowns and thick boots ; did you 1 " 
 
 " I knew they wei'e ladies and gentlemen by their 
 manners and conversation ; did you expect they would 
 travel in coronets and ermine mantles 1 " laughed Jenny. 
 
 " I 'm not such a goose ! But I'm glad we met them, 
 because I can tell the Sibleys of it. They think so 
 much of titles, and brag about Lady Watts Barclay, 
 whose husband is only a brewer knighted. I shall buy 
 a plaid like the one the lord's daughter wore, and wave 
 it in the faces of those girls ; they do put on such airs 
 because they have been in Europe before." 
 
150 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Jenny was soon absorbed in her books ; so Ethel 
 curled herself up in the window-seat with an illustrated 
 London paper full of some royal event, and silence 
 reigned for an hour. Neither had seen the Professor's 
 glasses rise like two full moons above his paper now 
 and then to peep at them as they chatted at the other 
 end of the room ; neither saw him smile as he made a 
 memorandum in his note-book, nor guessed how pleased 
 he was at Jenny's girlish admiration of his plain but 
 accomplished and excellent wife. It was one of the 
 trifles which went to form his opinion of the two lasses, 
 and in time to suggest a plan which ended in great 
 joy for one of them. 
 
 " Now the real fun begins, and I shall be perfectly 
 contented," cried Ethel as they rolled through the 
 London streets towards the dingy Langham Hotel, 
 where Americans love to congregate. 
 
 Jenny's eyes were sparkling also, and she looked as 
 if quite ready for the new scenes and excitements 
 which the famous old city promised them, though she 
 had private doubts as to whether anything could be 
 more delightful than Scotland. 
 
 The Sibleys were at the hotel ; and the ladies of both 
 parties at once began a round of shopping and sight- 
 seeing, while the gentlemen went about their more 
 important affairs. Joe was detailed for escort duty ; 
 and a fine time the poor lad had of it, trailing about 
 with seven ladies by day and packing them into two 
 cabs at night for the theatres and concerts they insisted 
 on trying to enjoy in spite of heat and weariness. 
 
 Mrs. Homer and Jenny were soon tired of this 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 151 
 
 "whirl of gayety," as they called it, and planned more 
 quiet excursions with some hom's each day for rest and 
 the writing and reading which all wise tourists make a 
 part of their duty and pleasure. Ethel rebelled, and 
 much preferred the " rabble," as Joe irreverently called 
 his troop of ladies, never losing her delight in Regent 
 Street shops, the parks at the fashionable hour, and 
 the evening shows in full blast everywhere during the 
 season. She left the sober party whenever she could 
 escape, and with Mrs. Sibley as chaperone, frolicked 
 about with the gay girls to her heart's content. It 
 troubled Jenny, and made her feel as if she were not 
 doing lier duty ; but Mrs. Homer consoled her by the 
 fact that a month was all they could give to London, 
 and soon the parties would separate, for the Sibleys 
 were bound for Paris, and the Professor for Switzerland 
 and Germany, through August and September. 
 
 So little Jane gave herself up to the pleasures she 
 loved, and with the new friends, whose kindness she 
 tried to repay by every small service in her power, 
 spent happy days among the famous haunts they knew 
 so well, learning much and storing away all she saw 
 and heard for future profit and pleasure. A few sam- 
 ples of the different ways in which our young travellers 
 improved their opportunities will sufficiently illustrate 
 this new version of the gay grasshopper and the thrifty 
 ant. 
 
 When they visited Westminster Abbey, Ethel was 
 soon tired of tombs and chapels, and declared that the 
 startling tableau of the skeleton Death peeping out of 
 the half-opened door of the tomb to throw his dart at 
 
152 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Mrs. l^ightingale, and the ludicrous bas-relief of some 
 great earl in full peer's robes and coronet being borne 
 to heaven in the arms of fat cherubs puffing under 
 their load, were the only things worth seeing. 
 
 Jenny sat spellbound in the Poets' Corner, listening 
 while Mrs. Homer named the illustrious dead around 
 them ; followed the verger from chapel to chapel with 
 intelligent interest as he told the story of each his- 
 torical or royal tomb, and gave up Madam Tussaud's 
 wax-work to spend several happy hours sketching the 
 beautiful cloistei's in the Abbey to add to her collec- 
 tion of water-colors, taken as she went from place to 
 place, to serve as studies for her pupils at home. 
 
 At the Tower she grew much excited over the tragic 
 spots she visited and the heroic tales she heard of the 
 kings and queens, the noble hearts and wise heads, 
 that pined and perished there. Ethel " hated horrors," 
 she said, and cared only for the crown jewels, the 
 faded effigies in the armor gallery, and the queer High- 
 landers skirling on the bagpipes in the courtyard. 
 
 At Kew Jenny revelled in the rare flowers, and was 
 stricken with amazement at the Victoria Regia, the 
 royal water-lily, so large that a child could sit on one 
 of its vast leaves as on a green island. Her interest 
 and delight so touched the heart of the crusty keeper 
 that he gave her a nosegay of orchids, which excited 
 the envy of Ethel and the Sibley girls, who were of the 
 party, but had soon wearied of plants and gone ofi" to 
 order tea in Flora's Bower, — one of the little cottages 
 where visitors repose and refresh themselves with weak 
 tea and Bath buns in such tiny rooms that they are 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 153 
 
 obliged to put their wraps in the fireplace or out of 
 the window while they feast. 
 
 At the few parties to which they went, — for the 
 Homers' friends were of the grave, elderly sort, — 
 Jenny sat in a corner taking notes of the gay scene, 
 while Ethel yawned. But the Mouse got many a crumb 
 of good conversation as she nestled close to Mrs. 
 Homer, drinking in the wise and witty chat that went 
 on between the friends who came to pay their respects 
 to the Professor and his interesting wife. Each night 
 Jenny had new and famous names to add to the list in 
 her journal, and the artless pages were rich in anecdotes, 
 descriptions, and comments on the day's adventures. 
 
 But the gem of her London collection of experi- 
 ences was found in a most unexpected way, and not 
 only gave her great pleasure, but made the young gad- 
 abouts regard her with sudden respect as one come to 
 honor. 
 
 "Let me stay and wait upon you; I 'd much rather 
 than go to the Crystal Palace, for I should n't enjoy it 
 at all with you lying here in pain and alone," said 
 Jenny one lovely morning when the girls came down 
 ready for the promised excursion, to find Mrs. Homer 
 laid up with a nervous headache. 
 
 " No, dear, you can do nothing for me, thanks. 
 Quiet is all I need, and my only worry is that I am 
 not able to write up my husband's notes for him. I 
 promised to have them ready last night, but was so 
 tired I could not do it," answered Mrs. Homer, as 
 Jenny leaned over her full of affectionate anxiety. 
 
 " Let me do them ! 1 'd be so proud to help ; and I 
 
154 A OAKLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 can, for I did copy some one day, and he said it was 
 well done. Please let me ; I should enjoy a quiet 
 morning here much better than the noisy party we 
 shall have, since the Sibleys are to go." 
 
 With some reluctance the invalid consented ; and 
 when the rest were gone with hasty regrets, Jenny 
 fell to work so briskly that in an hour or two the task 
 was done. She was looking wistfully out of the win- 
 dow wondering where she could go alone, since Mrs. 
 Homer was asleep and no one needed her, when the 
 Professor came in to see how his wife was before he 
 went to the British Museum to consult certain famous 
 books and parchments. 
 
 He was much pleased to find his notes in order, and 
 after a glance at the sleeping lady, told Jenny she was 
 to come with him for a visit to a place which she would 
 enjoy, though most young people thought it rather dull. 
 
 Away they went; and being given in charge to a 
 pleasant old man, Jenny roamed over the vast Mu- 
 seum where the wonders of the world are collected, 
 enjoying every moment, till Mr. Homer called her 
 away, as his day's work was done. It was late now, 
 but she never thought of time, and came smiling up 
 from the Egyptian Hall ready for the lunch the Pro- 
 fessor proposed. They were just going out when a 
 gentleman met them, and recognizing the American 
 stopped to gi'eet him cordially. Jenny's heart beat 
 when she was presented to Mr. Gladstone, and she 
 listened with all her ears to the silvery un-English 
 voice, and stared with all her eyes at the weary yet 
 wise and friendly face of the famous man. 
 
POrPIES AND WHEAT, 155 
 
 " I 'm so glad ! I wanted to see him very much, 
 and I feel so grand to think I 've really had a bow and 
 a smile all to myself from the Pi'emier of England," 
 said Jenny in a flutter of girlish delight when the brief 
 interview was over. 
 
 " You shall go to the House of Commons with me 
 and hear him speak some day ; then your cup will be 
 full, since you have already seen Browning, heard 
 Irving, taken tea with Jean Ingelow, and caught a 
 glimpse of the royal family," said the Professor, en- 
 joying her keen interest in people and places. 
 
 " Oh, thanks ! that will be splendid. I do love to 
 see famous persons, because it gives me a true picture 
 of them, and adds to my desire to know more of them, 
 and admire their virtues or shun their faults." 
 
 " Yes, that sort of mental picture-gallery is a good 
 thing to have, and we will add as many fine portraits 
 as we can. Now you shall ride in a Hansom, and see 
 how you like that." 
 
 Jenny was glad to do so, for ladies do not use these 
 vehicles when alone, and Ethel had put on great airs 
 after a spin in one with Joe. Jenny was girl enough 
 to like to have her little adventures to boast of, and 
 that day she was to have another which eclipsed all 
 that her young companions ever knew. 
 
 A bz'isk drive, a cosy lunch at a famous chop-house 
 whei'e Johnson had drunk oceans of tea, was followed 
 by a stroll in the Park ; for the Professor liked his 
 young comrade, and was grateful for the well-written 
 notes which helped on his work. 
 
 As they leaned against the railing to watch the 
 
156 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 splendid equipages roll by, one that seemed well 
 known, though only conspicuous by its quiet elegance, 
 stopped near them, and the elder of the two ladies in 
 it bowed and beckoned to Professor Homer. He has- 
 tened forward to be kindly greeted and invited to drive 
 along the Ijadies' Mile. Jenny's breath was nearly 
 taken away when she was presented to the Duchess 
 
 of S' , and found herself sitting in a luxurious 
 
 carriage opposite her Grace and her companion, with 
 a white-wigged coachman perched aloft and two pow- 
 dered footmen erect behind. Secretly rejoicing that 
 she had made herself especially nice for her trip with 
 the Professor, and remembering that young English 
 girls are expected to efface themselves in the company 
 of their elders, she sat mute and modest, stealing shy 
 glances from under her hat-brim at the great lady, who 
 was talking in the simplest way with her guest about 
 his work, in which, as a member of one of the historical 
 houses of England, she took much interest. A few 
 gracious words fell to Jenny's share before they were 
 set down at the door of the hotel, to the great admira- 
 tion of the porter, who recognized the liveries and 
 spread the news. 
 
 "This is a good sample of the way things go in 
 Vanity Faix'. We trudge away to our daily work 
 afoot, we treat ourselves to a humble cab through 
 the mud, pause in the park to watch the rich and 
 great, get whisked into a ducal carriage, and come 
 home in state, feeling rather exalted, don't we 1 " 
 asked the Professor as they went upstairs, and he 
 observed the new air of dignity which Jane uncon- 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 157 
 
 sciously assumed as an obsequious waiter flew before 
 to open the door. 
 
 " I think we do," answered honest Jane, laughing as 
 she caught the twinkle of his eyes behind the spec- 
 tacles. " I like splendor, and I am rather set up to 
 think I 've spoken to a live duchess ; but I think I 
 like her beautiful old face and chai'ming manners more 
 than her fine coach or great name. Why, she was 
 much more simply dressed than Mrs, Sibley, and 
 talked as pleasantly as if she did not feel a bit above 
 us. Yet one could n't forget that she was noble, and 
 lived in a very different world from ours." 
 
 "That is just it, my dear; she is a noble woman in 
 every sense of the word, and has a right to her title. 
 Her ancestors were king-makers, and she is Lady-in- 
 waiting to the Queen ; yet she leads the charities of 
 London, and is the friend of all who help the world 
 along. I 'm glad you have met hei', and seen so good 
 a sample of a true aristocrat. We Americans affect 
 to scorn titles, but too many of us hanker for them 
 in secret, and bow befoi'e very poor imitations of the 
 real thing. Don't fill your journal with fine names, as 
 some much wiser folk do, but set down only the best, 
 and remember, ' All that glitters is not gold.' " 
 
 " I will, sir." And Jenny put away the little ser- 
 mon side by side with the little adventure, saying 
 nothing of either till Mrs. Homer spoke of it, having 
 heard the story from her husband. 
 
 " How I wish I 'd been there, instead of fagging 
 round that great palace full of rubbish ! A real Duch- 
 ess ! Won't the Sibleys stare We shall hear no more 
 
158 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 of Lady Watts Barclay after this, I guess, and you 
 will be treated with great respect ; see if you are not ! " 
 said Ethel, much impressed with her companion's 
 good fortune and eager to tell it. 
 
 " If things of that sort affect them, their respect is 
 not worth having," answered Jane, quietly accepting 
 the arm Ethel offered her as they went to dinner, — 
 a very unusual courtesy, the cause of which she under- 
 stood and smiled at. 
 
 Ethel looked as if she felt the reproof, but said 
 nothing, only set an example of greater civility to her 
 companion, which the other girls involuntarily followed, 
 after they had heard of Jenny's excursion with the 
 Professor. 
 
 The change was very grateful to patient Jane, who 
 had borne many small slights in proud silence ; but it 
 was soon over, for the parties separated, and our friends 
 left the city far behind them, as they crossed the chan- 
 nel, and sailed up the Rhine to Schwalbach, where Mrs. 
 Homer was to try the steel springs for her rheumatism 
 while the Professor rested after his London labors. 
 
 A charming journey, and several very happy weeks 
 followed as the girls roamed about the Little Brunnen, 
 gay with people from all parts of Europe, come to 
 try the famous mineral waters, and rest under the 
 lindens. 
 
 Jenny found plenty to sketch here, and was busy 
 all day booking picturesque groups as they sat in the 
 Allee Saal, doing pretty woodland bits as they strolled 
 among the hills, carefully copying the arches and stat- 
 ues in St. Elizabeth's Chapel, or the queer old houses 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 159 
 
 in the Jews' Quarter of the town. Even the pigs 
 went into the portfoho, with the little swineherd 
 blowing his horn in the morning to summon each lazy- 
 porker from its sty to join the troop that trotted away 
 to eat acorns in the oak wood on the hill till sunset 
 called them home again. 
 
 Ethel's chief amusement was buying trinkets at the 
 booths near the Stahlbrunnen. A tempting display 
 of pretty crystal, agate, and steel jewelry was there, 
 with French bonbons, Swiss carvings, German embroi- 
 dery and lace-work, and most delectable little portfolios 
 of views of fine scenery or illustrations of famous 
 books. Ethel spent much money here, and added so 
 greatly to her store of souvenirs that a new trunk was 
 needed to hold the brittle treasures she accumulated 
 in spite of the advice given her to wait till she 
 reached Paris, where all could be bought much 
 cheaper and packed safely for transportation. 
 
 Jenny contented herself with a German book, 
 Kaulbach's Goethe Gallery, and a set of ornaments for 
 each sister ; the purple, pink, and white crystals be- 
 ing cheap and pretty trinkets for young girls. She 
 felt very rich with her generous salary to draw upon 
 when she liked ; but having made a list of proper gifts, 
 she resisted temptation and saved her money, re- 
 membering how much every penny was needed at 
 home. 
 
 Driving from the ruins of Hohenstein one lovely 
 afternoon, the girls got out to walk np a long hill, and 
 amused themselves gathering flowers by the way. 
 When they took their places again, Ethel had a great 
 
160 A GAELAND FOE GIELS. 
 
 bouquet of scarlet poppies, Jenny a nosegay of blue 
 corn-flowers for Mrs. Homer, and a handful of green 
 wheat for herself 
 
 " You look as if you had been gleaning," said the 
 Professor, as he watched the girls begin to trim their 
 rough straw hats with the gay coquelicots and the 
 bearded ears. 
 
 " I feel as if I were doing that every day, sir, and 
 gathering in a great harvest of pleasure, if nothing 
 else," answered Jenny, turning her bright eyes full of 
 gratitude from one kind face to the other. 
 
 " My poppies are much prettier than that stiff stuff. 
 Why did n't you get some 1 " asked Ethel, surveying 
 her brilliant decoration with great satisfaction. 
 
 " They don't last ; but my wheat will, and only grow 
 prettier as it ripens in my hat," answered Jenny, con- 
 tentedly settling the graceful spires in the straw cord 
 that bound the pointed crown. 
 
 " Then the kernels will all drop out and leave the 
 husks ; that won't be nice, I 'm sure," laughed Ethel. 
 
 " Well, some hungry bird will pick them up and be 
 glad of them. The husks will last a long time and re- 
 mind me of this happy day ; your poppies are shedding 
 their leaves already, and the odor is not pleasant. I 
 like my honest bread-making wheat better than your 
 opium flowers," said Jenny, with her thoughtful smile, 
 as she watched the scarlet petals float away leaving 
 the green seed-vessels bare. 
 
 " Oh, I shall get some artificial ones at my lit- 
 tle milliner's, and be fine as long as I like ; so you 
 are welcome to your useful, bristly old wheat," said 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 161 
 
 Ethel, rather nettled by the look that passed between 
 the elders. 
 
 Nothing more was said ; but both girls remembered 
 that little talk long afterward, for those two wayside 
 nosegays served to point the moral of this little tale, if 
 not to adorn it. 
 
 We have no space to tell all the pleasant wander- 
 ings of our travellers as they went from one interest- 
 ing place to another, till they paused for a good rest 
 at Geneva. 
 
 Here Ethel quite lost her head among the glittering 
 display of jewelry, and had to be watched lest she 
 rashly spend her last penny. They were obliged al- 
 most forcibly to carry her out of the enchanting shops ; 
 and no one felt safe till she was either on the lake, 
 or driving to Chamouni, or asleep in her bed. 
 
 Jenny bought a watch, a very necessary thing for a 
 teacher, and this was the best place to get a good one. 
 It was chosen with care and much serious consul- 
 tation with the Professor ; and Mrs. Homer added a 
 little chain and seal, finding Jenny about to content 
 herself with a black cord. 
 
 "It is only a return for many daughterly services, 
 my dear ; and my husband wishes me to offer these 
 with thanks to the patient secretary who has often 
 helped him so willingly," she said, as she came to 
 wake Jenny with a kiss on the morning of her twenty- 
 first birthday. 
 
 A set of little volumes like those she had admired 
 was the second gift, and Jenny was much touched to 
 be so kindly remembered. Ethel gave her some thread 
 
 Uio) 11 
 
162 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 lace which she had longed to buy for her mother at 
 Brussels, but did not, finding it as costly as beautiful. 
 It was a very happy day, though quietly spent sitting 
 by the lake enjoying the well-chosen extracts from 
 Shakspeare, Wordsworth. Byron, Burns, Scott, and 
 other descriptive poets, and writing loving letters home, 
 proudly stamped with the little seal. 
 
 After that, while Ethel haunted the brilliant shops, 
 read novels in the hotel-garden, or listlessly followed 
 the sight-seers, Jenny, with the help of her valuable lit- 
 tle library, her industrious pencil, and her accomplished 
 guides, laid up a store of precious souvenirs as they 
 visited the celebrated spots that lie like a necklace 
 of pearls around the lovely lake, with Mont Blanc as 
 the splendid opal that fitly clasps the chain. Calvin 
 and Geneva, Voltaire and Ferney, De Stael and Coppet, 
 Gibbon's garden at Lausanne, Byron's Prisoner at Chil- 
 lon, Eousseau's chestnut grove at Clarens, and all the 
 legends, relics, and memories of Switzerland's heroes, 
 romancers, poets, and philosophers, were carefully 
 studied, recorded, and enjoyed ; and when at last they 
 steamed away toward Paris, Jenny felt as if her head 
 and her heart and one little trunk held richer treas- 
 ures than all the jewelry in Geneva. 
 
 At Lyons her second impoi'tant purchase was made ; 
 for when they visited one of the great manufactories 
 to execute several commissions given to Mrs. Homer, 
 Jenny proudly bought a nice black silk for her mother. 
 This, with the delicate lace, would make the dear 
 woman presentable for many a day, and the good girl 
 beamed with satisfaction as she pictured the delight 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 163 
 
 of all at home when this splendid gift appeared to 
 adorn the dear parent-bird, who never cared how 
 shabby she was if her young were well feathered. 
 
 It was a trial to Jenny, when they reached Paris, 
 to spend day after day shopping, talking to dress- 
 makers, and driving in the Bois to watch the elegant 
 world on parade, when she longed to be living through 
 the French Revolution with Carlyle, copying the 
 quaint relics at Hotel Cluny, or revelling in the treas- 
 ures of the Louvre. 
 
 " Why do you want to study and poke all the 
 time % " asked Ethel, as they followed Mrs. Homer and 
 a French acquaintance round the Palais Royal one day 
 with its brilliant shops, cafes, and crowds. 
 
 " My dream is to be able to take a place as teacher 
 of German and history in a girl's school next year. It 
 is a fine chance, and I am promised it if I am fitted ; 
 so I must work when I can to be ready. That is why 
 I like Versailles better than Rue de Rivoli, and enjoy 
 talking with Professor Homer about French kings and 
 queens more than I do buying mock diamonds and 
 eating ices here," answered Jenny, looking very tired 
 of the glitter, noise, and dust of the gay place when 
 her heart was in the Conciergerie with poor Marie 
 Antoinette, or the Invalides, where lay the great Napo- 
 leon still guarded by his faithful Frenchmen. 
 
 "What a dismal prospect! I should think you'd 
 rather have a jolly time while you could, and trust to 
 luck for a place by-and-by, if you must go on teach- 
 ing," said Ethel, stopping to admire a window full of 
 distracting bonnets. 
 
164 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 " ISTo ; it is a charming prospect to me, for I love to 
 teach, and I can't leave anything to luck. God helps 
 those who help themselves, mother says, and I want 
 to give the girls an easier time than I have had ; so I 
 shall get my tools ready, and fit myself to do good 
 work when the job comes to me," answered Jenny, 
 with such a decided air that the French lady glanced 
 back at her, wondering if a quarrel was going on be- 
 tween the demoiselles. 
 
 "What do you mean by tools? " asked Ethel, turn- 
 ing from the gay bonnets to a ravishing display of bon- 
 bons in the next window. 
 
 " Professor Homer said one day that a well-stored 
 mind was a tool-chest with which one could carve one's 
 way. Now, my tools are knowledge, memory, taste, 
 the power of imparting what I know, good manners, 
 sense, and — patience," added Jenny, with a sigh, as 
 she thought of the weary years spent in teaching little 
 children the alphabet. 
 
 Ethel took the sigh to herself, well knowing that 
 she had been a trial, especially of late, when she had 
 insisted on Jane's company because her own French 
 was so imperfect as to be nearly useless, though at 
 home she had flattered herself that she knew a good 
 deal. Her own ignorance of many things had been 
 unpleasantly impressed upon her lately, for at Ma- 
 dame Dene's Pension there were several agreeable 
 English and French ladies, and much interesting con- 
 versation went on at the table, which Jenny heartily 
 enjoyed, though she modestly said very little. But 
 Ethel, longing to distinguish herself before the quiet 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 165 
 
 English girls, tried to talk and often made sad mis- 
 takes because her head was a jumble of new names 
 and places, and her knowledge of all kinds very 
 superficial. Only the day before she had said in a 
 patronizing tone to a French lady, — 
 
 " Of course we remember our obligations to your 
 Lamartine during our Revolution, and the other brave 
 Frenchmen who helped us." 
 
 "You mean Lafayette, dear," whispered Jenny 
 quickly, as the lady smiled and bowed bewildered 
 by the queerly pronounced French, but catching the 
 poet's name. 
 
 " I know what I mean ; you need n't trouble yourself 
 to correct and interrupt me when I 'm talking," an- 
 swered Ethel, in her pert way, annoyed by a smile on 
 the face of the girl opposite, and Jenny's blush at 
 her rudeness and ingratitude. She regretted both 
 when Jane explained the matter afterward, and wished 
 that she had at once corrected what would then have 
 passed as a slip of the tongue. Now it was too late; 
 but she kept quiet and gave Miss Cholmondeley no 
 more chances to smile in that aggravatingly superior 
 way, though it was very natural, as she was a highly 
 educated girl. 
 
 Thinking of this, and many other mistakes of her 
 own from which Jane tried to save her, Ethel felt a 
 real remorse, and walked silently on, wondering how 
 she could reward this kind creature who had served 
 her so well and was so anxious to get on in her hard, 
 humble way. The orders were all given now, the 
 shopping nearly done, and Mademoiselle Campan, the 
 
166 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 elderly French lady who boarded at their Pension, was 
 always ready to jaunt about and be useful ; so why not 
 give Jane a holiday, and let her grub and study for the 
 little while left them in Paris 1 In a fortnight Uncle 
 Sam was to pick up the girls and take them home, 
 while the Homers went to Rome for the winter. It 
 would be well to take Miss Bassett back in a good 
 humor, so that her report would please Mamma, and 
 appease Papa if he were angry at the amount of money 
 spent by his extravagant little daughter. Ethel saw 
 now, as one always does when it is too late to repair 
 damages, many things left undone which she ought to 
 have done, and regretted living for herself instead of 
 putting more pleasure into the life of this good girl, 
 whose future seemed so uninviting to our young lady 
 with her first season very near. 
 
 It was a kind plan, and gratified Jenny very much 
 when it was proposed and proved to her that no duty 
 would be neglected if she went about with the Homers 
 and left her charge to the excellent lady who enjoyed 
 chiffons as much as Ethel did, and was glad to re- 
 ceive pretty gifts in return for her services. 
 
 But alas for Ethel's good resolutions and Jenny's 
 well-earned holiday ! Both came to nothing, for Ethel 
 fell ill from too much pastry, and had a sharp bilious 
 attack which laid her up till the uncle arrived. 
 
 Every one was very kind, and there was no danger ; 
 but the days were long, the invalid very fretful, and 
 the nurse very tired, before the second week brought 
 convalescence and a general cheering and clearing up 
 took olace. Uncle Sam was amusing himself very com- 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 1G7 
 
 fortably while he waited for his niece to be able to tra- 
 vel, and the girls were beginning to pack by degrees, 
 for the accumulation of Ethel's purchases made her 
 share a serious task. 
 
 " There ! All are in now, and only the steamer trunk 
 is left to pack at the last moment," said Jenny, folding 
 her tired arms after a protracted struggle with half a 
 dozen new gowns, and a perplexing medley of hats, 
 boots, gloves, and perfumery. Two large trunks stood 
 in the anteroom ready to go ; the third was now done, 
 and nothing remained but the small one and Jenny's 
 shabby portmanteau. 
 
 " How nicely you have managed ! I ought to have 
 helped, only you would n't let me and I should have 
 spoilt my wrapper. Come and rest and help me sort 
 out this rubbish," said Ethel, who would have been 
 dressed and out if the arrival of a new peignoir had not 
 kept her in to enjoy the lovely pink and blue thing, 
 all lace and ribbon and French taste. 
 
 " You will never get them into that box, dear," an- 
 swered Jenny, gladly sitting down beside her on the 
 sofa, which was strewn with trinkets of all sorts, more 
 or less damaged by careless handling, and the vicissi- 
 tudes of a wandering trunk. 
 
 " I don't believe they are worth fussing over. I 'm 
 tired of them, and they look very mean and silly after 
 seeing real jewels here. I 'd throw them away if I 
 had n't spent so much money on them," said Ethel, 
 turning over the tarnished filigree, mock pearl, and imi- 
 tation coral necklaces, bracelets, and brooches that were 
 tumbling out of the frail boxes in which they came. 
 
168 A GAELAND FOE GIRLS. 
 
 " They will look pretty to people at home who have 
 not been seeing so many as we have. I '11 sew up the 
 broken cases, and rub up the silver, and string the 
 beads, and make all as good as new, and you will find 
 plenty of girls at home glad to get them, I am sure," 
 answered Jenny, rapidly bringing order out of chaos 
 with those skilful hands of hers. 
 
 Ethel leaned back and watched her silently for a 
 few minutes. During this last week our young lady 
 had been thinking a good deal, and was conscious of 
 a strong desire to tell Jane Bassett how much she 
 loved and thanked her for all her patient and faithful 
 care during the sis months now nearly over. But she 
 was proud, and humility was hard to learn j self-will 
 was sweet, and to own one's self in the wrong a most 
 distasteful task. The penitent did not know how to be- 
 gin, so waited for an opportunity, and presently it came. 
 
 " Shall you be glad to get home, Jenny 1 " she asked 
 in her most caressing tone, as she hung her prettiest 
 locket round her friend's neck ; for during this illness 
 all formality and coolness had melted away, and " Miss 
 Bassett " was " Jenny dear " now. 
 
 " I shall be very, very glad to see my precious people 
 again, and tell them all about my splendid holiday ; 
 but I can't help wishing that we were to stay till 
 spring, now that we are here, and I have no teaching, 
 and may never get such another chance. I 'm afraid 
 it seems ungrateful when I 've had so much ; but to go 
 back without seeing Rome is a trial, I confess," an- 
 swered honest Jane, rubbing away at a very dull paste 
 bandeau. 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 169 
 
 " So it is ; but I don't mind so much, because I shall 
 come again by-and-by, and I mean to be better pre- 
 pared to enjoy things properly than I am now. I '11 
 really study this winter, and not be such a fool. 
 Jenny, I've a plan in my head. I wonder if you'd 
 like it ? I should immensely, and I 'm going to pro- 
 pose it to Mamma the minute I get home," said Ethel, 
 glad to seize this opening. 
 
 " What is it, deary 1 " 
 
 " Would you like to be my governess and teach me 
 all you know, quietly, at home this winter? I don't 
 want to begin school again just for languages and a 
 few finishing things, and I really think you would do 
 more for me than any one else, because you know 
 •what I need, and are so patient with your bad, ungrate- 
 ful, saucy girl. Could you 1 would you come 1 " and 
 Ethel put her arms round Jenny's neck with a little 
 sob and a kiss that was far more precious to Jane than 
 the famous diamond necklace of Marie Antoinette, 
 which she had been reading about. 
 
 " I could and I would with all my heart, if you 
 want me, darling ! I think we know and love each 
 other now, and can be happy and helpful together, 
 and I '11 come so gladly if your mother asks me," an- 
 swered Jenny, quick to understand what underlay 
 this sudden tenderness, and glad to accept the atone- 
 ment offered her for many trials which she would 
 never have told even to her own mother. 
 
 Ethel was her best self now, and her friend felt well 
 rewarded for the past by this promise of real love and 
 mutual help in the future. So they talked over the 
 
170 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 new plan in great spirits till Mrs. Homer came to 
 bring them their share of a packet of home letters 
 just arrived. She saw that something unusual was 
 going on, but only smiled, nodded, and went away 
 saying, — 
 
 " I have good news in my letters, and hope yours 
 will make you equally happy, girls." 
 
 Silence reigned for a time, as they sat reading bus- 
 ily ; then a sudden exclamation from Ethel seemed to 
 produce a strange effect upon Jenny, for with a cry of 
 joy she sprang up and danced all over the room, wav- 
 ing her letter wildly as she cried out, — 
 
 " I 'm to go ! I 'm to go ! I can't believe it — but 
 here it is ! How kind, how very kind, every one is to 
 me ! " and down she went upon her own little bed to 
 hide her face and laugh and cry till Ethel ran to re- 
 joice with her. 
 
 " Oh, Jenny, I 'm so glad ! You deserve it, and it 's 
 like Mrs. Homer to make all smooth before she said a 
 word. Let me read what Mamma writes to you. 
 Here 's my letter ; see how sweetly su^ speaks of 
 you, and how grateful they are for all you 've done 
 forme." 
 
 The letters changed hands ; and sitting side by 
 side in an affectionate bunch, the girls read the 
 happy news that granted the cherished wish of one 
 and gave the other real unselfish pleasure in another's 
 happiness. 
 
 Jane was to go to Eome with the Homers for the 
 winter, and perhaps to Greece in the spring. A year 
 of delight lay before her, offered in such a friendly 
 
"And sitting side by side in an affectionate bunch, the girls read 
 the happy news." 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 171 
 
 way, and with such words of commendation, thanks, 
 and welcome, that the girl's heart was full, and she 
 felt that every small sacrifice of feeling, every lonely 
 hour, and distasteful duty was richly repaid by this 
 rare opportunity to enjoy still further draughts of the 
 wisdom, beauty, and poetry of the wonderful world 
 now open to her. 
 
 She flew off presently to try to thank her good 
 friends, and came back dragging a light new trunk, 
 in which she nearly buried her small self as she excit- 
 edly explained its appearance, while rattling out the 
 trays and displaying its many conveniences. 
 
 " That dear woman says I 'm to send my presents 
 home in the old one by you, and take this to fill up in 
 Rome. Think of it ! A lovely new French trunk, 
 and Rome full of pictures, statues, St. Peter's, and the 
 Colosseum. It takes my breath away and makes my 
 head spin." 
 
 " So I see. It 's a capital box, but it won't hold 
 even St. Peter's, dear ; so you 'd better calm down and 
 pack your treasures. I '11 help," cried Ethel, sweeping 
 about in her gay gown, almost as wild as Jane, who 
 was quite upset by this sudden delicious change in her 
 prospects. 
 
 How happily she laid away in the old trunk the 
 few gifts she had ventured to buy, and those given 
 her, — the glossy silk, the dainty lace, the pretty 
 crystals, the store of gloves, the flask of cologne, the 
 pictures and books, and last of all the sketches which 
 illustrated the journal kept so carefully for those at 
 home. 
 
172 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 " Now, when my letter is written and the check with 
 all that is left of my salary put in, I am done. 
 There 's room for more, and I wish I 'd got something 
 else, now I feel so rich. But it is foolish to buy gowns 
 to pay duties on, when I don't know what the girls 
 need. I feel so rich now, I shall fly out and pick up 
 some more little pretties for the dears. They have so 
 few, anything will be charming to them," said Jenny, 
 proudly surveying her box, and looking about for some 
 foreign trifle with which to fill up the corners. 
 
 " Then let me put these in, and so be rid of them. 
 I shall go to see your people and tell them all about 
 you, and explain how you came to send so much 
 rubbish." 
 
 As she spoke Ethel slipped in several Swiss carvings, 
 the best of the trinkets, and a parcel of dainty Parisian 
 ties and sashes which would gladden the hearts of the 
 poor, pretty girls, just beginning to need such aids to 
 their modest toilets. A big box of bonbons completed 
 her contribution, and left but one empty corner. 
 
 " I '11 tnck in my old hat to keep all steady ; the 
 girls will like it when they dress up, and I 'm fond of 
 it, because it recalls some of my happiest days," said 
 Jenny, as she took up the well-worn hat and began to 
 dust it. A shower of grain dropped into her hand, 
 for the yellow wheat still kept its place and recalled 
 the chat at Schwalbach. Ethel glanced at her own 
 hat with its faded artificial flowers ; and as her eye 
 went from the small store of treasures so carefully and 
 happily gathered to the strew of almost useless finery 
 on her bed, she said soberly, — 
 
POPPIES AND WHEAT. 173 
 
 " You were right, Jenny. My poppies are worthless, 
 and my harvest a very poor one. Your wheat fell in 
 good, ground, and you will glean a whole stack befoi'e 
 you go home. Well, I shall keep my old hat to remind 
 me of you ; and when I come again, I hope I shall have 
 a wiser head to put into a new one." 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-EOSE. 
 
 " If you please, I 've come," said a small girl, as she 
 walked into a large room where three ladies sat at 
 work. 
 
 One of the ladies was very thin, one very stout, and 
 the youngest very pretty. The eldest put on her 
 glasses, the stout one dropped her sewing, and the 
 pretty one exclaimed, — 
 
 " Why, it must be little Rosamond ! " 
 
 " Yes, I 've come ; the man is taking my trunk up- 
 stairs, and I've got a letter for Cousin Penelope," said 
 the child, with the sweet composure of one always 
 sure of a welcome. 
 
 The stout lady held out her hand for the letter ; but 
 the little girl, after a keen look at the three faces, 
 went to the old lady, who received her with a kiss, 
 saying, — 
 
 " That 's right ; but how did you know, dear '2" 
 
 " Oh, Papa said Cousin Penny is old, Cousin Henny 
 fat, and Cousin Cicely rather pretty; so I knew in one 
 minute," replied Rosamond, in a tone of innocent sat- 
 isfaction at her own cleverness, and quite unconscious 
 of the effect of her speech. 
 
 Miss Penelope hastily retired behind the letter. 
 Miss Henrietta frowned so heavily that the gold- 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-EOSE. 175 
 
 rimmed eye-glasses flew ofF her nose with a clash, and 
 Cicely laughed outright, as she exclaimed, — 
 
 " I 'm afraid we have got an enfant terrible among 
 us, though I can't complain of my share of the 
 compliments." 
 
 " I never expected to find Clara's child well man- 
 ered, and I see I was quite right. Take your hat off, 
 Rosamond, and sit down. It tires Sister to lean on 
 her in that way," said Miss Henny in a severe tone, 
 with no offer of any warmer welcome. 
 
 Seeing that something was amiss, the child quietly 
 obeyed, and perching herself in an ancient arm-chair 
 crossed her short legs, folded her plump hands over 
 the diminutive travelling-bag she carried, and sat 
 looking about the room with a pair of very large blue 
 eyes, quite unabashed, though rather pensive, as if 
 the memory of some tender parting were still fresh in 
 her little heart. 
 
 While Miss Penny slowly reads the letter, Miss 
 Henny works daisies on a bit of canvas with pettish 
 jerks of her silk, and Miss Cicely leans in the sofa- 
 corner, staring at the new-comer, we will briefly in- 
 troduce our small heroine. Her father was cousin to 
 the elder ladies, and being called suddenly across the 
 water on business, took his wife with him, leaving the 
 little girl to the care of these relatives, thinking her 
 too young for so long a journey. Cicely, an orphan 
 niece who lived with the old ladies, was to have the 
 care of Eosy ; and a summer in the quiet country 
 town would do her good, while change of scene would 
 console her for this first separation from her mother. 
 
176 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 How she fared remains to be seen ; and we need only 
 add that the child had been well trained, made the 
 companion of a sweet and tender woman, and was very 
 anxious to please the parents whom she passionately 
 loved, by keeping the promises she had made them, 
 and being " as brave as Papa, as patient and kind as 
 dear Mamma." 
 
 " Well, what do you think of it, Missy 1 " asked 
 Cicely, as the blue eyes came back to her, after rov- 
 ing round the spacious, old-fashioned, and rather 
 gloomy room. 
 
 " It 's a pretty large, dark place for a little girl to be 
 all alone in ; " and there Avas a suspicious quiver in the 
 childish voice, as Rosy opened her bag to produce a 
 very small handkerchief, evidently feeling that she 
 might have sudden need of it if some one did not 
 speak to her very soon. 
 
 " We keep it dark on account of Sister's eyes. 
 When / was a little girl, it was n't considered polite to 
 say rude things about other people's houses, especially 
 if they were very handsome ones," said Miss Henny, 
 with a stern glance over the eye-glasses at the young 
 offender, whose second remark was even more unfortu- 
 nate than her first. 
 
 " I did n't mean to be rude, but I m^ist tell the 
 truth. Little girls like bright places. I 'm sorry 
 about Cousin Penny's eyes. I will read to her ; I do 
 to Mamma, and she says it is very well for a child only 
 eight years old." 
 
 The gentle answer and the full eyes seemed to calm 
 Miss Henny's wrath, for her size was her tender point, 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-KOSE. 177 
 
 aud the old house her especial pride ; so she dropped 
 the awe-inspiring glasses, and said more kindly, — 
 
 " There is a nice little room ready for you upstairs, 
 and a garden to play in. Cicely will hear you read 
 every day, and I will teach you to sew, for of course 
 that most useful part of your education has been 
 neglected." 
 
 " No, ma'am, I sew my four patches every day, and 
 make little wee stitches, aud I can hem Papa's hank'- 
 chifs, and I was learning to darn his socks with a big 
 needle when — when they went away." 
 
 Rosy paused with a sudden choke ; but too proud to 
 break down, she only wiped two drops off her cheek 
 with the long ends of her little gray silk glove, set her 
 lips, and remained mistress of herself, privately plan- 
 ning to cry all she liked when she was safely in the 
 *' nice little room " promised her. 
 
 Cicely, though a lazy, selfish young lady, was 
 touched by the child's pathetic face, and said in a 
 friendly tone, as she patted the couch where she lay, — 
 
 " Come here, dear, and sit by me, and tell me what 
 kind of a kitten you 'd like best. I know of a sweet 
 yellow one, and two grays. Our Tabby is too old to 
 play with you ; so you will want a kitty, I 'm sure." 
 
 " Oh yes, if I may ! " and Rosy skipped to the new 
 seat with a smile which plainly proved that this sort 
 of welcome was just what she liked. 
 
 " Now, Cicely, why will you put such an idea into 
 Rosamond's head when you know we can't have kittens 
 round the house for Sister to stumble over, not to 
 mention the mischief the horrid things always do % 
 
 (446) 22 
 
178 A. GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Tabby is all the child needs, with her doll. Of course 
 you have a doll 1 " and Miss Henny asked the question 
 as solemnly as if she had said, " Have you a soul ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, I have nine in my trunk, and two little 
 ones in my bag, and Mamma is going to send me a big, 
 big one from London, as soon as she gets there, to 
 sleep with me and be my little comfort," cried Rosy, 
 rapidly producing from her bag a tiny bride and 
 groom, three seedcakes, a smelling-bottle, and a purse 
 out of which fell a shower of bright cents, also crumbs 
 all over the immaculate carpet. 
 
 " Mercy on us, what a mess ! Pick it all up, child, 
 and don't unpack any more in the parlor. One doll is 
 quite enough for me," said Miss Henny, with a sigh of 
 resignation as if asking patience to bear this new 
 calamity. 
 
 Eosy echoed the sigh as she crept about reclaiming 
 her precious pennies, and eating the crumbs as the 
 only way of disposing of them. 
 
 " Never mind, it 's only her way ; the heat makes her 
 a little ci'oss, you see," whispered Cicely, bending down 
 to hold the bag, into which Rosy bundled her treasures 
 in hot haste. 
 
 " I thought fat people were always pleasant, I 'm 
 glad you ain't fat," answered the little girl, in a tone 
 which was perfectly audible. 
 
 What would have happened I tremble to think, if 
 Miss Penny had not finished the letter at that 
 moment and handed it to her sister, saying as she 
 held out her arms to the child, — 
 
 " Now I know all about it, and you are to be my 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-EOSE. 179 
 
 baby; so come and give me some sweet kisses, 
 darling." 
 
 Down dropped the bag, and with a little sob of joy 
 the child nestled close to the kind old heart that wel- 
 comed her so tenderly at last. 
 
 " Papa calls me his button-rose, 'cause I 'm so small 
 and pink and sweet, and thorny too sometimes," she 
 said, looking up brightly, after a few moments of the 
 fond and foolish cuddling all little creatures love and 
 need so much when they leave the nest, and miss the 
 brooding of motherly wings. 
 
 " "We '11 call you anything you like, darling ; but 
 Eosamond is a pretty old name, and I 'm fond of it, 
 for it was your grandmamma's, and a sweeter woman 
 never lived," said Miss Penny, stroking the fresh 
 cheeks, where the tears shone like dew on pink rose- 
 leaves. 
 
 " I shall call you Chicken Little, because we have 
 Henny and Penny ; and the girls and Tab downstairs 
 can be Goosey-Loosey, Turkey-Lurkey, and Cocky- 
 Locky. I '11 be Ducky-Lucky, and I 'm sure Foxy- 
 Loxy lives next door," said Cicely, laughing at her 
 own wit, while Miss Henny looked up, saying, with 
 the first smile Rosy had seen, — 
 
 " That 's true enough ! and I hope Chicken Little 
 will keep out of his way, no matter if the sky does 
 fall." 
 
 " Who is it ? A truly fox 1 I never saw one. Could 
 I peep at him sometime 1 " cried the child, much in- 
 terested at once. 
 
 " No, dear ; it 's only a neighbor of ours who has 
 
180 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 treated us badly, at least we think so, and we don't 
 speak, though we used to be good friends some years 
 ago. It 's sad to live so, but we don't quite see how to 
 help it yet. We are ready to do our part ; but Mr. 
 Dover should take the first step, as he was in the 
 wrong." 
 
 " Please tell about it. I have horrid quarrels with 
 Mamie Parsons sometimes, but we always kiss and 
 make up, and feel all happy again. Can't you, Cousin 
 Penny ? " asked the child, softly touching the little 
 white curls under the lace cap. 
 
 "Well, no, dear; grown people cannot settle differ- 
 ences in that pretty way. We must wait till he apol- 
 ogizes, and then we shall gladly be friends again. 
 You see Mr. Dover was a missionary in India for many 
 years, and we were very intimate with his mother. 
 Our gardens join, and a gate in our fence led across 
 their field to the back street, and was most convenient 
 when we wanted to walk by the river or send the 
 maids on errands in a hurry. The old lady was very 
 neighborly, and we were quite comfortable till Thomas 
 came home and made trouble. He 'd lost his wife and 
 children, poor man, and his liver was out of order, and 
 living among the heathen so long had made him mel- 
 ancholy and queer ; so he tried to amuse himself with 
 gardening and keeping hens." 
 
 " I 'm glad ! I love flowers and biddies," murmured 
 Eosy, listening with deep interest to this delightful 
 mixture of quarrels and heathen, sorrow, poultry, mys- 
 terious diseases, and gardens. 
 
 " He had no right to shut up our gate and forbid our 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-EOSE. 181 
 
 crossing that little field, and no gentleman would have 
 dared to do it after all our kindness to his mother," 
 exclaimed Miss Henny, so suddenly and violently that 
 Rosamond nearly fell off the old lady's lap with the 
 start she gave. 
 
 " No, sister, I don't agree there. Mr. Thomas had a 
 perfect right to do as he liked with his own land ; but 
 I think we should have had no trouble if you had been 
 willing to sell him the corner of our garden where the 
 old summer-house is, for his hens," began Miss Penny 
 in a mild tone. 
 
 " Sister ! you know the tender memories connected 
 with that bower, and how terrible it would have been 
 to me to see it torn down, and noisy fowls clucking 
 and pecking where I and my poor Calvin once sat 
 together," cried Miss Henny, trying to look sentimen- 
 tal, which was an impossible feat for a stout lady in a 
 flowery muslin gown, and a fly-away cap full of blue 
 ribbons, on a head once flaxen and now gray. 
 
 "We won't discuss the point, Henrietta," said the 
 elder lady with dignity; whereupon the other returned 
 to the letter, bridling and tossing her head in a way 
 which caused Rosy to stare, and resolve to imitate it 
 when she played be a proud princess with her dolls. 
 
 " Well, dear, that was the beginning of the trouble," 
 continued Miss Penny; " and now we don't speak, and 
 the old lady misses us, I 'm sure, and I often long to 
 run in and see her, and I 'm so sorry you can't enjoy 
 the wonders of that house, for it 's full of beautiful 
 and curious things, most instructive for children to 
 observe. Mr. Thomas has been a great traveller, and 
 
182 A GAEL AND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 has a tiger skin in the parlor so natural it 's quite start- 
 ling to behold ; also spears, and bows and arrows, 
 and neclilaces of shark's teeth, from the Cannibal 
 Islands, and the loveliest stuffed birds, my dear, all 
 over the place, and pretty shells and baskets, and ivory 
 toys, and odd dresses, and no end of wonderful treas- 
 ures. Such a sad pity you can't see them ! " and Miss 
 Penny looked quite distressed at the child's loss. 
 
 " Oh, but I guess I will see 'em ! Every one is good 
 to me, and old gentlemen like little girls. Papa says 
 so, and he always does what I want when I say 
 ' Please ' with my wheedulin smile, as he calls it," 
 said Rosy, giving them a sample of the most engaging 
 sort. 
 
 " You funny little thing, do try it, and soften the 
 heart of that tiresome man ! He has the finest roses 
 in town and the most delicious fruit, and we never get 
 any, though he sends quantities everywhere else. 
 Such a fuss over an old earwiggy arbor ! It is per- 
 fectly provoking, when we might enjoy so much over 
 there ; and who knows what might happen ! " 
 
 As Cicely spoke, she smoothed her brown curls and 
 glanced at the mirror, quite conscious that a very 
 pretty young lady of twenty was wasting her sweetness 
 in the great gloomy house, with two elderly spinsters. 
 
 " I'll get some for you," answered Rosy, with a nod 
 of such calm conviction of her own power, that Cicely 
 laughed again, and proposed tliat she should go at 
 once and view the battle-field. 
 
 " Could I run in the garden ] I 'd love to, after 
 riding so long," asked Rosy, eager to be off; for her 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-KOSE. 183 
 
 active legs ached for exercise, and the close, shady 
 room oppressed her. 
 
 " Yes, dear ; but don't get into mischief, or worry 
 Tabby, or pick the flowers. Of course you would n't 
 touch green fruit, or climb trees, or soil your little 
 frock. I '11 ring the bell for you to come in and be 
 dressed for tea when it is time." 
 
 With these directions and a kiss, Miss Penny, as 
 Cicely did not stir, let the child out at the back door 
 of the long hall, and watched her walk demurely down 
 the main path of the prim old garden, where no child 
 had played for years, and even the toads and fat rob- 
 ins behaved in the most decorous manner. 
 
 " It 's pretty dull, but it 's better than the parlor 
 with all the staring pictures," said Rosy to herself, 
 after a voyage of discovery had shown her the few 
 charms of the place. The sight of a large yellow cat 
 reposing in the sun cheered her eyes at that moment, 
 and she hastened to scrape acquaintance with the 
 stately animal ; for the snails were not social, and the 
 toads stared even more fixedly at her than the painted 
 eyes of her respected ancestors. 
 
 But Tabby disliked children as much as her mis- 
 tress, and after submitting ungraciously to a few 
 caresses from the eager little hands, she rose and 
 retired majestically to a safer perch on the top of the 
 high wall which enclosed the garden. Being too lazy 
 to jump, she walked up the shelves of an old flower- 
 stand moulding in a corner, and by so doing, gave 
 Rosy a brilliant idea, which she at once put into action 
 by following Tabby's example. Up this new sort of 
 
184 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 ladder she went, and peeped over the wall, delighted 
 at this unexpected chance to behold the enemy's 
 territory. 
 
 " Oh, what a pretty place ! " she cried, clasping her 
 grubby little hands with rapture, as the beauties of 
 the forbidden land burst upon her view. 
 
 It was indeed a paradise to a child's eyes, — for flow- 
 ers bloomed along the winding paths ; ripening fruit lay 
 rosy and tempting in the beds below ; behind the wire 
 walls that confined them clucked and strutted various 
 sorts of poultry ; cages of gay birds hung on the 
 piazza; and through the open windows of the house 
 one caught glimpses of curious curtains, bright weap- 
 ons, and mysterious objects in the rooms beyond. 
 
 A gray-headed gentleman in a queer nankeen coat 
 lay asleep on a bamboo lounge under the great cherry- 
 tree, with a purple silk handkerchief half over his face. 
 " That 's the missionary man, I s'pose. He does n't 
 look cross at all. If I could only get down there, I 'd 
 go and wake him with a softly kiss, as I do Papa, and 
 ask to see his pretty things." 
 
 Being quite unconscious of fear, Eosy certainly 
 . would have carried out her daring plan, had it been 
 possible ; but no way of descending on the other side 
 appeared, so she sighed and sat gazing wistfully, till 
 Cousin Henny appeared for a breath of fresh air, and 
 ordered her down at once. 
 
 " Come and see if my balsam-seeds have started yet. 
 I kcsp planting them, but they won't come up," sho 
 said, pointing out a mound of earth newly dug and 
 watered. 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-ROSE. 185 
 
 Eosy obediently scrambled up, and -was trying to 
 decide whether some green sprouts were chickweed or 
 the dilatory balsams when a sudden uproar in the next 
 garden made her stop to listen, while Miss Henny 
 said in a tone of great satisfaction, as the cackle of 
 hens arose, — 
 
 " Some trouble with those horrid fowls of his. I 
 detest them, crowing in the night, and waking us at 
 dawn with their noise. I wish some thief would steal 
 every one of them. Nobody has a right to annoy 
 their neighbors with troublesome pets." 
 
 Before Eosy could describe the beauties of the 
 white bantams or the size of the big golden cock, a 
 loud voice cried, — 
 
 " You rascal ! I '11 hang you if I catch you here 
 again. Go home quicker than you came, and tell your 
 mistress to teach you better manners, if she values 
 your life." 
 
 " It 's that man ! Such language ! I wonder who 
 he 's caught 1 That bad boy who steals our plums, 
 perhaps." 
 
 The words were hardly out of Miss Henny's mouth 
 when her question was answered in a sudden and 
 dreadful way ; for over the wall, hurled by a strong 
 arm, flew Tabby, high in the air, to fall with a thump 
 directly in the middle of the bed where they stood. 
 Miss Henny uttei'ed a shrill scream, caught up her 
 stunned treasure, and rushed into the house as fast as 
 her size and flounces permitted, leaving Eosy breath- 
 less with surprise and indignation. 
 
 Burning to resent this terrible outrage, she climbed 
 
186 A GAKLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 quickly up the steps, and astonished the ii'ate old gen- 
 tleman on the other side by the sudden apparition of 
 a golden head, a red childish face, and a dirty little 
 finger pointed sternly at him, as this small avenging 
 angel demanded, — 
 
 " Missionary man, how could you kill my cousin's 
 cat?" 
 
 " Bless my soul ! who are you 1 " said the old gentle- 
 man, staring at this unexpected actor on the field of 
 battle. 
 
 " I 'm Button-Rose, and I hate cruel people ! Tabby 'b 
 dead, and now there is n't any one to play with over 
 here." 
 
 This sad prospect made the blue eyes fill with sud- 
 den tears ; and the application of the dirty fingers 
 added streaks of mud to the red cheeks, which much 
 damaged the appearance of the angel, though it added 
 pathos to the child's reproach. 
 
 " Cats have nine lives, and Tabby 's used to being 
 chucked over the wall. I 've done it several times, 
 and it seems to agree with her, for she comes back to 
 kill my chicks as bold as brass. See that ! " and the 
 old gentleman held up a downy dead chicken, as proof 
 of Tabby's sin. 
 
 " Poor little chicky ! " groaned Rosy, yearning to 
 mourn over the dear departed and bury it with tender 
 care. " It was very naughty of Tab ; but, sir, you 
 know cats are made to catch things, and they can't 
 help it." 
 
 " They will have to help it, or I '11 drown the lot. 
 This is a rare breed, and I 've but two left after all my 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-ROSE. 187 
 
 trouble, thanks to that rascal of yours ! What are you 
 going to do about it 1 " demanded Mr. Dover, in a tone 
 that made Rosy feel as if she had committed the mur- 
 der herself. 
 
 " I '11 talk to Tabby and try to make her good, and 
 I '11 shut her up in the old rabbit-house over here ; 
 then I hope she will be sorry and never do it any 
 more," she said, in such a remorseful tone that the 
 old gentleman relented at once, ashamed to afflict such 
 a tender little soul. 
 
 " Try it," he said, "with a smile that made his yellow 
 face pleasant all at once. Then, as if ready to change 
 the subject, he asked, looking curiously at the little 
 figure perched on the wall, — 
 
 "Where did you come from"? Never saw any chil- 
 dren over there before. They don't allow 'em." 
 
 Rosy introduced herself in a few words, and see- 
 ing that her new acquaintance seemed interested, 
 she added with the wheedling smile Papa found so 
 engaging, — 
 
 " It 's pretty lonely here, I guess ; so p'r'aps you '11 
 let me peep at your nice garden sometimes if it does n't 
 trouble you, sir 1 " 
 
 " Poor little soul ! it must be desperately dull with 
 those three tabbies," he said to himself, as he stroked 
 the dead chicken in his hand, and watched the little 
 face bent toward him. 
 
 " Peep as much as you like, child ; or, better still, 
 come over and run about, /like little girls," he added 
 aloud, with a nod and a wave of welcome. 
 
 " I told *em I was sure you did ! I 'd love to come, 
 
188 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 but they would n't let me, I know. I 'm so sorry 
 about the fight. Could n't you make it up, and be 
 pleasant again?" asked Rosy, clasping her hands with 
 a beseeching gesture as her bright face grew sad and 
 serious remembering the feud. 
 
 " So they 've told you that nonsense already, have 
 they ? Nice neighbors they are," said the old gentle- 
 man, frowning as if ill pleased at the news. 
 
 " I 'm glad I know ; p'r'aps I can be a peacemaker. 
 Mamma says they are good to have in families, and 
 I 'd like to be one if I could. Would you mind if I 
 tried to peace-make a little, so I could come over % I 
 do want to see the red birds and the tiger skin 
 awfully, if you please." 
 
 " What do you know about 'em % " asked the old gen- 
 tleman, sitting down on a garden chair, as if he did n't 
 mind continuing the chat with this new neighbor. 
 
 Nearly tumbling off the wall in her earnestness, 
 Rosy repeated all that Cousin Penny had said ; and 
 something in the reasonable words, the flattering de- 
 scription of his treasures, and the sincere regret of 
 the old lady seemed to have a good effect upon Mr. 
 Dover, for when Rosy paused out of breath, he said in 
 such an altered tone that it was evident the peace- 
 making had already begun, — 
 
 " Miss Carey is a gentlewoman ! I always thought 
 so. You tell her, with my compliments, that I 'd be 
 glad to see you any time if she has no objection. I '11 
 put my step-ladder there, and you can come over 
 instead of the cat. But mind you don't meddle, or I 
 might give you a toss like Tabby." 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-EOSE. 189 
 
 " I 'm not afraid," laughed Rosy. " I '11 go and ask 
 right away, and I won't touch a thing, and I know 
 you '11 like me for a friend. Papa says I 'm a dear 
 little one. Thank you very much, sir. Good-by till 
 I come again ; " and with a kiss of the hand, the yellow 
 head sunk out of sight like the sun going down, leav- 
 ing a sense of darkness behind when the beaming lit- 
 tle face disappeared, though fresh stains of green 
 mould from the wall made it rather like the tattooed 
 countenances Mr. Dover used to see among his canni- 
 bal friends in Africa. 
 
 He sat musing with the dead chicken in his hand, 
 forgetful of time, till a ring of his own door-bell called 
 him in to receive a note from Miss Penelope, thanking 
 him for his invitation to little Rosamond, but declining 
 it in the most polite and formal words. 
 
 " I expected it ! Bless the silly old souls ! why can't 
 they be reasonable, and accept the olive branch when 
 I offer it ] I '11 be hanged if I do again ! The fat one 
 is at the bottom of this. Miss Pen would give in if 
 that absurd Henrietta did n't hold her back. Well, 
 I 'm sorry for the child, but that 's not my fault ; " and 
 throwing down the note, Mr. Dover went out to water 
 his roses. 
 
 For a week or two, Button-Rose hardly dared glance 
 toward the forbidden spot from her window, as she was 
 ordered to play in the front garden, and sent to take 
 sober walks with Cicely, who loved to stop and gossip 
 with her friends, while the poor child waited patiently 
 till the long tales were told. 
 
 Nursing Tabby was her chief consolation ; and so 
 
190 A OAKLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 kind was she, that the heart of the old cat softened to 
 her, and she actually purred her thanks at last, for all 
 the saucers of cream, bits of chicken, soft pats, and 
 tender words bestowed upon her by the little girl. 
 
 " Well, I declare ! Tab won't do that even for me," 
 said Miss Henny, one day when she came upon the 
 child sitting alone in the hall with a picture-book and 
 the cat comfortably asleep in her lap. 
 
 " Ammals always love me, if people don't," answered 
 Button- Rose, soberly ; for she had not yet forgiven the 
 stout lady for denying her the delights offered by the 
 "missionary man." 
 
 " That 's because an-i-mals can't see how naughty you 
 are sometimes," said Miss Henny tartly, not having 
 recovered her temper even after many days. 
 
 " I shall make every one love me before I go away. 
 Mamma told me to, and I shall. I know how ; " and 
 Button smiled with a wise little nod that was pretty 
 to see, as she proudly cuddled her first conquest. 
 
 " We shall see ; " and Miss Henny ponderously 
 departed, wondering what odd fancy the little thing 
 would take into her head next. 
 
 It was soon evident ; for when she came down from 
 her long nap, later in the afternoon, Miss Henny found 
 Rosamond reading aloud to her sister in the great dim 
 parlor. They made a curious contrast, — the pale, 
 white-haired, feeble old lady, with her prim dress, high 
 cap, knitting, and shaded eyes ; and the child, rosy and 
 round, quaint and sweet, a pretty little ornament for the 
 old-fashioned room, as she sat among the tea-poys and 
 samplers, ancient china and furniture, with the por- 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-ROSE. 191 
 
 traits of great grandfathers and grandmothers simper- 
 ing and staring at her, as if pleased and surprised to 
 see such a charming httle descendant among them. 
 
 " Bless the baby ! what is she at now 1 " asked Miss 
 Henny, feeling more amiable after her sleep. 
 
 " I 'm reading to Cousin Penny, 'cause no one else 
 does, and her poor eyes hurt her, and she likes stories, 
 and so do I," answered Button, with one chubby fin- 
 ger on the place in her book, and eyes full of pride at 
 the grown-up employment she had found for herself. 
 
 " So kind of the little dear ! She found me alone 
 and wanted to amuse me ; so I proposed a story to suit 
 us both, and she does very well with a little help now 
 and then. I haven't read 'Simple Susan' for years, 
 and really enjoy it. Maria Edgeworth was always a 
 favorite of mine, and I still think her far superior to 
 any modern writer for the young," said Miss Penny, 
 looking quite animated and happy in the new enter- 
 tainment provided for her. 
 
 " Go on, child ; let me hear how well you can read ;" 
 and Miss Henny settled herself in the sofa-corner with 
 her embroidery. 
 
 So Button started bravely off, and tried so hard that 
 she was soon out of breath. As she paused, she said 
 with a gasp, — 
 
 " Is n't Susan a dear girl 1 She gives all the best 
 things to other people, and is kind to the old harper. 
 She did n't send him away, as you did the music-man 
 to-day, and tell him to be still." 
 
 " Organs are a nuisance, and I never allow them 
 here. Go on, and don't criticise your elders, Rosamond." 
 
192 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 " Mamma and I always talk over stories, and pick 
 out the morals of 'em. She likes it;" with which 
 remark, made sweetly not pertly, Button went on to 
 the end, with an occasional lift over a long word ; and 
 the old ladies were interested, in spite of themselves, 
 in the simple tale read in that childish voice. 
 
 " Thank you, dear, it is very nice, and we will have 
 one every day. Now, what can I do for you 1 " asked 
 Miss Penny, as the little girl pushed the curls off her 
 forehead, with a sigh of mingled weariness and 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " Let me go in the back garden and peep through 
 the knot-hole at the pretty roses. I do long to see if 
 the moss ones are out, and the cherries ripe," said 
 Rosy, clasping her hands imploringly. 
 
 " It can do no harm, Henrietta. Yes, dear, run away 
 and get some catnip for Tabby, and see if the balsams 
 are up yet." 
 
 That last suggestion won Miss Henny's consent ; and 
 Button was off at once, skipping like a young colt all 
 over the garden, which now seemed delightful to 
 her. 
 
 At the back of the summer-house was a narrow 
 space between it and the fence where certain plump 
 toads lived ; peeping in to watch them, Rosy had spied a 
 large knot-hole in the old boards, and through it found 
 she could get a fine view of several rose-bushes, a tree, 
 and one window of the " missionary man's " house. 
 She had longed for another peep since the flower- 
 stand was gone, and climbing trees forbidden ; now 
 with joy she slipped into the damp nook, regard- 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-KOSE, 193 
 
 less of the speckled gentlemen who stared at her with 
 dismay, and took a good look at the forbidden paradise 
 beyond. 
 
 Yes, the "moss ones" were in bloom, the cherries 
 quite red, and at the window was the gray head of Mr. 
 Dover, as he sat reading in his queer yellow dressing- 
 gown. 
 
 Button yearned to get in, and leaned so hard 
 against the hateful fence that the rotten board cracked, 
 a long bit fell out, and she nearly went after it, as it 
 di'opped upon the green bank below. Now the full 
 splendor of the roses burst upon her, and a delightful 
 gooseberry bush stood close by with purplish berries 
 temptingly bobbing within reach. This obliging bush 
 hid the hole, but left fine openings to see through ; so 
 the child popped her curly head out, and gazed 
 delightedly at the chickens, the flowers, the fruit, and 
 the unconscious old gentleman not far away. 
 
 " I '11 have it for my secret ; or maybe I '11 tell 
 Cousin Penny, and beg her to let me peep if I truly 
 promise never to go in," thought Button, knowing well 
 who her best friend was. 
 
 At bedtime, when the dear old lady came to give 
 the good-night kiss, which the others forgot. Rosy, as 
 Miss Penny called her, made her request ; and it was 
 granted, for Miss Penny had a feeling that the little 
 peacemaker would sooner or later heal the breach 
 with her pretty magic, and so she was very ready to 
 lend a hand in a quiet way. 
 
 Next day at play-time, Button was hurrying down 
 her last bit of gingerbread, which she was obliged to 
 
194 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 eat properly in the dining-room, instead of enjoying 
 out-of-doors, -when she heard a sudden flurry in the 
 garden, and running to the window saw Roxy the 
 maid chasing a chicken to and fro, while Miss Henny 
 stood flapping her skirts on the steps, and crying, 
 " Shoo ! " till she was red in the face. 
 
 " It 's the white banty, and it must have come in 
 my hole ! Oh dear, I hope they won't catch it ! 
 Cousin Henny said she 'd wring the neck of the first 
 one that flied over the wall." 
 
 Away went Rosy, to join in the hunt ; for Miss 
 Henny was too fat to run, and Roxy found the lively 
 fowl too much for her. It was a long and hard chase ; 
 feathers flew, the maid lost her breath. Rosy tumbled 
 down, and Miss Henny screamed and scolded till she 
 was forced to sit down and watch in silence. 
 
 At last poor, hunted Banty ran into the arbor, for 
 its clipped wings would not lift it over the wall. But- 
 ton rushed after it, and dismal squalls plainly pro- 
 claimed that the naughty chicken was caught. 
 
 Miss Henny waddled down the path, declaring that 
 she ivould wring its neck ; and Roxy went puffing after 
 her, glad to rest. But the old summer-house was 
 empty. !N"o little girl, no ruffled bantam, appeared. 
 Both had vanished like magic ; and mistress and maid 
 stared at each other in amazement, till they saw that 
 the long-disused window was open, and a gleam of 
 light came in from the narrow opening behind. 
 
 " My patience ! if that child has n't crept out there, 
 and bolted through that hole in the fence ! Did you 
 ever, Miss ? " exclaimed Roxy, trying not to look 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-ROSE. 195 
 
 pleased at being spared the distasteful task of killing 
 the poor chicken. 
 
 " Naughty girl ! " began Miss Henny, when the 
 sound of voices made both listen. " Slip in there, and 
 see what is going on," said the mistress, well knowing 
 that her stout person never could be squeezed into the 
 small space between house and fence. 
 
 Eoxy, being thin, easily obeyed, and in a whisper tel- 
 ephoned what went on beyond the hole, causing Miss 
 Henny much vexation, surprise, and at last real pleas- 
 ure, as the child performed her little part in the mis- 
 sion she had undertaken. 
 
 " Oh, please, it 's all my fault ! I kept the hole 
 open, Mr. Thomas, and so Banty flied in. But it 
 is n't hurt a bit, and I 've brought it home all safe, 
 'cause I know you love your chickies, and Tabby ate 
 lots of 'em," said the childish voice in its most concili- 
 atory tone. 
 
 " Why did n't you fling it over the wall, as I did the 
 oaf?" asked Mr. Dover, smiling, as he shut up the 
 truant fowl, and turned to look at the rosy, breathless 
 child, whose pink frock bore the marks of many a 
 tumble on grass and gravel. 
 
 " It would hurt Banty's feelings, and yours too, and 
 not be polite. So I came myself, to make some polly- 
 gies, and say it was my fault. But, please, could I 
 keep the hole to peep through, if I always put up a 
 board when I go away? It is so dull in there, and so 
 sweet in here ! " 
 
 " Don't you think a little gate would be nicer, — one 
 just big enough for you, with a hook to fasten it 1 
 
196 A GAELAND FOR GIELS. 
 
 We'll call it a button-hole," laughed Mr. Dover. 
 " Then you could peep ; or perhaps the ladies will think 
 better of it, and show that they pardon my ill treat- 
 ment of Tabby by letting you come in and pick some 
 cherries and roses now and then." 
 
 This charming proposal caused the little girl to clasp 
 her hands and cry aloud, — 
 
 " That would be perfully sp'endid ! I know Cousin 
 Penny would like it, and let me. P'r'aps she 'd come 
 herself; she 's so thin, she could, and she loves your 
 mother and wants to see her. Only, Cousin Henny 
 won't let us be nice and friendly. S'pose you send 
 her some cherries ; she loves good things to eat, and 
 maybe she will say yes, if you send lots." 
 
 Mr. Dover laughed at this artless proposal, and Miss 
 Henny smiled at the prospect of a gift of the luscious 
 black-heart cherries she had been longing for. Roxy 
 wisely repeated only the agreeable parts of the conver- 
 sation ; so nothing ruffled the lady's temper. Now, 
 whether Mr. Dover's sharp eye caught a glimpse of 
 the face among the gooseberry bushes, and suspected 
 eavesdroppers, or whether the child's earnest desire to 
 make peace touched him, who shall say ? Certain it 
 is that his eyes twinkled like a boy's, as he said 
 rather loudly, in his most affable tone, — 
 
 " I shall be most happy to send Miss Henrietta a 
 basket of fruit. She used to be a charming young 
 woman. It 's a pity she shuts herself up so much ; 
 but that sad little romance of hers has darkened 
 her life, I suppose. Ah, well, I can sympathize 
 with her ! " 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-ROSE. 197 
 
 Rosy stared at the sudden change in his manner, 
 and was rather bewildered by his grown-up way of 
 talking to her. But being intent on securing some- 
 thing nice to^ carry home, she stuck to the cherries, 
 which she did understand, and pointing to the piazza 
 said with a business-like air, — 
 
 " There 's a basket ; so we might pick 'em right away 
 I love to go up in trees and throw 'em down ; and I 
 know Cousin Henny will like cherries ever so much, 
 and not scold a bit when I take some to her." 
 
 "Then come on," cried Mr. Thomas, relapsing into 
 the hearty manner she liked so much ; and away he 
 went, quite briskly, down the path, with his yellow 
 skii'ts waving in the wind, and Button skipphig after 
 him in great glee. 
 
 "They actually are a-picking cherries. Miss, up in 
 the tree like a couple of robins a-chirpin' and laughin' 
 as gay as can be," reported Eoxy, from her peep-hole. 
 
 " Rip off the rest of that board, then I can see," 
 whispered Miss Henny, quivering with interest now ; 
 for she had heard Mr. Dover's words, and her wrath 
 was appeased by that flattering allusion to herself. 
 
 Off came the rest of the board, and from the window, 
 half hidden in woodbine, she could now see over the 
 bushes into the next garden. The peep-hole com- 
 manded the tree, and she watched with eager eyes the 
 filling of the basket to be sent her, planning the while 
 a charming note of thanks. 
 
 " Do look. Miss ; they are resting now, and she 's on 
 his knee. Ain't it a pretty picter 1 " whispered Roxy, 
 unmindful of the earwigs, ants, and daddy-long-legs 
 
198 A OAKLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 promenading over her as she crouched in her mouldy 
 corner, intent on the view beyond. 
 
 " Very pretty ! He lost several children in India 
 and I suppose Eosy reminds him of them. Ah, poor 
 man ! I can sympathize with him, for / too have loved 
 and lost," sighed Miss Henny, pensively surveying the 
 group on the rustic seat. 
 
 They were playing cherry -bob ; and the child's laugh- 
 ter made pleasant music in the usually quiet place, 
 while the man's face lost its sad, stern look, and was 
 both gay and tender, as he held the little creature close, 
 and popped the ripe fruit into the red, laughing 
 mouth. 
 
 As the last sweet morsel disappeared Rosy said, with 
 a long breath of perfect content, — 
 
 " It 's almost as good as having Papa to play with. 
 I do hope the cousins will let me come again ! If they 
 don't, I think my heart will break, 'cause I get so 
 homesick over thei'e, and have so many trials, and no 
 one but Cousin Penny ever cuddles me." 
 
 "Bless her heart! We '11 send her some flowers for 
 that. You tell her that Mrs. Dover is poorh% and 
 would like very much to see her ; and so would i\lr. 
 Thomas, who enjoys her little niece immensely. Can 
 you remember that % " 
 
 " Every word ! She is very nice to me, and I love 
 lier, and I guess she will be glad to come. She likes 
 moss-Yo^QS, and so do I," added the unblushing little 
 beggar, as Mr. Dover took out his knife and began to 
 make the bouquet which was to be Miss Penny's 
 bribe. He could not bear to give up his little play- 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-KOSE. 199 
 
 mate, and was quite ready to try again, with this 
 persistent and charming ally to help him heal the 
 breach. 
 
 " Shall you send anything to Cis ? You need n't 
 mind about it, 'cause she can't keep me at home, but 
 it might please her, and make her stop rapping my 
 head with her thimble when I ask questions, and slap- 
 ping my fingers when I touch any of her pretty 
 things," suggested Button, as the flowers wei-e added 
 to the fruit, making a fine display. 
 
 " I never send presents to young ladies," said Mr. 
 Thomas shortly, adding, with both hands out, and his 
 most inviting smile, " But I ahvays kiss nice little 
 girls if they will allow me % " 
 
 Button threw both arms about his neck and gave 
 him a shower of grateful kisses, which were sweeter to 
 the lonely old man than all the cherries that ever 
 grew, or the finest flowers in his garden. Then Miss 
 Rosamond proudly marched home, finding no trace of 
 the watchers, for both had fled while the " cuddling " 
 went on. Roxy was soberly setting the dinner-table, 
 and Miss Henny in the parlor breathing hard be- 
 hind a newspaper. Miss Penny and Cicely were 
 spending the day out, so the roses had to wait ; but 
 the basket was most graciously received, also the 
 carefully delivered message, and the child's hea.rt was 
 rejoiced by free permission to go and see " our kind 
 neighbor now and then, if Sister does not object." 
 
 Rosy was in great spirits, and prattled away as they 
 sat at dinner, emboldened by the lady's unusual amia- 
 bility to ask all sorts of questions, some of which 
 
200 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 proved rather embarrassing to Miss Henny, and very 
 amusing to Roxy, listening in the china-closet. 
 
 " I wish / had 'spepsia," was the abrupt remark of 
 the small person as her plate of drumsticks was re- 
 moved and the pudding appeared, accompanied by the 
 cherries. 
 
 " Why, dear 1 " asked Miss Henny, busily arranging 
 the small dish of delicate tidbits, which left little but 
 the skeleton of the roast fowl for the kitchen. 
 
 " Then I could have the nicest bits of chicken, and 
 heaps of sauce on my pudding, and the butteryest 
 slices of toast, and all the cream for my tea, as you 
 do. It is n't a vejy bad pain, is it 1 " asked Rosy, in 
 such perfect good faith that Miss Henny's sudden flush 
 aiid Roxy's hasty dive into the closet never suggested 
 to her that this innocent speech was bringing the 
 old lady's besetting sin to light in the most open 
 manner. 
 
 " Yes, child, it is vejy bad, and you may thank your 
 stars that I try to keep you from it by feeding you on 
 plain food. At my age, and suffering as I do, the best 
 of everything is needed to keep up my strength," said 
 Miss Henny, tartly. But the largest plate of pudding, 
 with " heaps of sauce," went to the child this day, and 
 when the fruit was served, an unusually small portion 
 was put away for the invalid, who was obliged to sus- 
 tain nature with frequent lunches through the day and 
 evening. 
 
 " I 'm s'prised that you suffer much, Cousin Henny. 
 How brave you must be, not to cry abou.t it, and go 
 round in horrid pain, as you do, and dress so nicely, 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-ROSE. 201 
 
 and see people, and work 'broidering, and make calls ! 
 I hope I shall be brave if I ever do have 'spepsia ; 
 but I guess I shan't, you take such care to give me 
 small pieces every time." 
 
 With which cheerful remark Rosy closed that part 
 of the conversation and returned to the delights of 
 her new friend's garden. But from that day, among 
 other changes which began about this time, the child's 
 cup and plate were well filled, and the dread of adding 
 to her own sufferings seemed to curb the dyspeptic's 
 voracious appetite. " A cheild was amang them takin' 
 notes," and every one involuntarily dreaded those clear 
 eyes and that frank tongue, so innocently observing 
 and criticising all that went on. Cicely had already 
 been reminded of a neglected duty by Eosy's reading 
 to Miss Penny, and tried to be more faithful in that, 
 as in other services which she owed the old lady. So 
 the little missionary was evidently getting on, though 
 quite unconscious of her work at home, so absorbed 
 was she in her foreign mission ; for, like many another 
 missionary, the savage over the way was more inter- 
 esting than the selfish, slothful, or neglected souls at 
 home. 
 
 Miss Penny was charmed with her flowers and the 
 friendly message sent her, and to Eosy's great delight 
 went next day, in best bonnet and gown, to make a 
 call upon the old lady " who was poorly," for that ap- 
 peal could not be resisted. Rosy also, in honor of the 
 great occasion, wore her best hat, and a white frock so 
 stiff that she looked like a little opera dancer as the 
 long black legs skipped along the street ; for this was 
 
202 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 far too grand a visit to be paid through a hole in 
 the wall. 
 
 In the basket were certain delicacies for the old 
 lady, and a card had been prepared, with the names 
 of Miss Carey and Miss Rosamond Carey beautifully 
 written on it by Cis, who was dying to go, but dared 
 not after Rosy had told her Mr. Dover's remark 
 about young ladies. 
 
 As the procession of two paused at the door, both 
 the young and the old heart fluttered a little, for this 
 was the first decided step toward reconciliation, and 
 any check might spoil it all. The maid stared, but 
 civilly led these unexpected guests in and departed 
 with the card. Miss Penny settled herself in a large 
 chair and looked about with pensive interest at the 
 familiar room. But Rosy made a bee-line for the great 
 tiger-skin, and regardless of her clean frock lay down 
 on it to examine the head, which glai'ed at her with 
 yellow eyes, showing all its shai'p teeth in the most 
 delightfully natural manner. 
 
 Mr. Dover came in with a formal bow, but Miss 
 Penny put out both hands, and said in her sweet old 
 voice, — 
 
 " Let us be friends again for the sake of your 
 mother." 
 
 That settled the matter at once, and Mr. Thomas 
 was so eager to do his part that he not only shook 
 the hands heartily, but kept them in his as he said 
 like an honest man, — 
 
 " My dear neighbor, I beg your pardon ! / was 
 wrong, but I 'm not too proud to own it and say I 'm 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-ROSE. 203 
 
 glad to let by-gones be by-gones for the sake of all. 
 Now come and see my mother; she is longing for 
 you." 
 
 What went on in the next room Eosy never knew 
 or cared, for Mr. Thomas soon returned, and amused 
 her so well, showing his treasures, that she forgot 
 where she was till the maid came to say tea was 
 ready. 
 
 " Are we going to stay 1 " cried the little girl, beam- 
 ing from under a Feejee crown of feathers, which pro- 
 duced as comical an effect upon her curly head as did 
 the collar of shark's teeth round her plump neck or 
 the great Japanese war-fan in her hand. 
 
 " Yes, we have tea at five ; come and turn it out. 
 I 've ordered the little cups especially for you," said 
 her host, as he changed the small Amazon to a pretty 
 child again and led her away to preside at the table, 
 where the quaint china and silver, and the dainty cake 
 and bread and butter proved much more atti'active 
 than the little old lady in a big cap who patted her 
 head and smiled at her. 
 
 Never had Rosy enjoyed such a delicious meal ; for 
 the rapture of pouring real tea out of a pot shaped 
 like a silver melon, into cups as thin as egg-shells, and 
 putting in sugar with tongs like claws, not to mention 
 much thick cream, also spicy, plummy cakes that 
 melted in one's mouth, was too great for words. 
 
 The little maid was so absorbed in her new duties 
 that she never minded what the elders talked about, 
 till the plates were empty, the pot ran dry, and no 
 one co-jld be prevailed on to have any more tea. Then 
 
204 A GAEL AND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 she leaned back in her chair and remarked with an 
 air of cahn satisfaction, as she looked from one to the 
 other, and smiled that engaging smile of hers, — 
 
 " Is n't being friends a great deal nicer than fighting 
 and throwing cats over walls and calling bad names'!" 
 
 It was impossible not to laugh, and that cheerful 
 sound seemed to tune every one to the sweetest har- 
 mony, while the little peacemaker was passed round 
 as if a last course of kisses was absolutely necessary. 
 
 Then the party broke up, and Mr. Dover escorted 
 his guests to their own gate, to the great amazement 
 of the neighbors and the very visible pride of Miss 
 Button-Rose, who went up the walk with her head as 
 high as if the wreath of daisies on her little hat had 
 been a conqueror's crown. 
 
 Now that the first step had been taken, all would 
 have gone smoothly if Cicely, offended because Mr. 
 Thomas took no notice of her, had not put it into Miss 
 Henny's head that as the original quarrel began be- 
 tween her and their neighbor, it would not be dignified 
 to give in till Mr. Dover had come and begged pardon 
 of her as well as of Miss Penny. This suited the fool- 
 ish old lady, who never could forget certain plain 
 words spoken in the heat of battle, though the kindly 
 ones lately heard had much softened her heart toward 
 the offender. 
 
 " No, I shall not forget my dignity nor humble my- 
 self by going over there to apologize as Penelope has. 
 She can do as she likes ; and now that he has asked to 
 be forgiven, there is perhaps no harm in her seeing the 
 old lady. But with me it is different. I was insulted, 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-ROSE. 205 
 
 and till Thomas Dover comes here and solemnly asks 
 my pardon I will not cross his threshold, no matter 
 what bribes he sends," said Miss Henny, with an air 
 of heroic firmness. 
 
 But it did cost her a pang when her sister went 
 every now and then to take tea with the old lady and 
 came home full of pleasant news ; while Rosy prattled 
 of the fine things she saw, the nice things she had to 
 eat, and never failed to bring some gift to share, or to 
 display to the exiles from Paradise. They ate the 
 " bribes," however, as they called the fruit, admired 
 the pretty trinkets and toys, and longed to share in 
 the mild festivities of the pleasant house over the way, 
 but stood firm in spite of all Rosy's wiles, till some- 
 thing unexpected happened to touch their hearts, 
 conquer their foolish pride, and crown the little peace- 
 maker's efforts with success. 
 
 One August afternoon Cicely was discontentedly 
 looking over her small store of ornaments as she made 
 ready for a party. She loved gayety, and went about 
 a great deal, leaving many duties undone, or asking 
 the little girl to attend to them for her, neglecting, 
 however, to show any gratitude for these small ser- 
 vices so cheerfully done. 
 
 As she sat tossing over her boxes, Button-Rose came 
 in looking tired and listless, for it was a hot day, and 
 she had been out twice to do errands for Cicely, be- 
 sides trotting busily up and down to wait on the old 
 ladies while the young one put fresh ribbons on her 
 dress and curled her hair for the evening. 
 
 " Could I lie on your sofa, please, Cis 1 My head 
 
206 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 aches, and my legs are so tired," said little Button, 
 when her tap had been answered by a sharp " What 
 do you want, child 1 " 
 
 " No, I 'm going to lie there myself and have a nap 
 as soon as I 'm done here. It 's cooler than the bed, 
 and I must be fresh for to-night," said Cicely, too intent 
 on her own affairs to see how used up Rosy looked. 
 
 " Then could I look at your pretty things if I don't 
 touch 'em 1 " asked the child, longing to peep into the 
 interesting boxes scattered on the table. 
 
 " No, you can't ! I 'm busy, and don't want you 
 asking questions and meddling. Go away and let me 
 alone." 
 
 Cicely spoke crossly, and waved her hand with a 
 warning gesture, thereby upsetting the tray which 
 held the heads of the necklace she had decided to 
 wear for want of something better. 
 
 " There, now see what you 've done ! Pick up every 
 one, and be quick, for I 'm in a hurry." 
 
 "But I didn't touch 'em," began poor Button, as 
 she crept about hunting for the black and white beads 
 that looked like very ugly marbles. 
 
 " Don't talk ; pick them up and then scamper ; you 
 are always in mischief ! " scolded Cis, vexed with her- 
 self, and the heat, and the accident, and the whole 
 world just then. 
 
 Rosy said no more, but several great tears dropped 
 on the carpet as she groped in corners, under the bed, 
 and behind the chairs for the runaways; and when 
 the last was found she put it in her tyrant's hand, 
 saying, with a wistful look, — 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-ROSE. 207 
 
 " I 'm very sorry I troubled you. Seems to me if 
 I had a little cousin, I 'd love to have her play with 
 my things, and I would n't be cross to her. Now I '11 
 go and try to amoose myself with Bella ; she is always 
 good to me." 
 
 " Run along then. Thank goodness that doll came 
 when it did, for I 'm tired of ' amoosing ' small girls as 
 well as old ladies," said Cis, busy with her beads, yet 
 sorry she had been so petulant with patient little But- 
 ton, who seldom reproached her, being a cheery child, 
 and blessed with a sweet temper. 
 
 Rosy felt too languid to play ; so when she had told 
 Bella, the London doll, her trials, and comforted 
 herself with some kisses on the waxen cheeks, she 
 roamed away to the summer-house, which was cool 
 and quiet, longing for some one to caress her; for the 
 little heart was homesick and the little head ached 
 badly. 
 
 The " button-hole " had been made, the alley swept 
 out, to the great dismay of the spiders, earwigs, and 
 toads, who had fled to qiiieter quarters, and Rosy had 
 leave to go and come when she liked if Mr. Dover did 
 not object. He never did ; and it was her greatest de- 
 light to walk in the pretty garden at her own sweet 
 will, always with the hope of meeting its kindly owner, 
 for now they were firm friends. She had been too busy 
 for a run there that day ; and now, as she peeped 
 in, it looked so shady and inviting, and it seemed so 
 natural to turn to her dear " missionary man " for en- 
 tertainment, that she went straight up to his study 
 window and peeped in. 
 
208 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 He too seemed out of sorts that hot afternoon, for 
 he sat leaning his head on both hands at the desk 
 strewn with piles of old letters. Button-Eose's tender 
 heart yearned over him at once, and stepping quietly 
 in at the long open window she went to him, saying 
 in her tenderest tone, — 
 
 " Does your head ache, sir ] Let me soft it as I do 
 Papa's; he says that always makes it more better. 
 Please let me 1 I 'd love to dearly." 
 
 " Ah, my darling, I wish you could. But the pain 
 is in my heart, and nothing will ever cure it," sighed 
 Mr. Thomas, as he drew her close and put his 
 wrinkled yellow cheek to her soft one, which looked 
 more like a damask rose than usual. 
 
 "You have trials too, I s'pose. Mine trouble me 
 to-day, so I came over to see you. Shall I go away ] " 
 asked Ptosy with a sigh and the wistful look again. 
 
 " No, stay, and we will comfort each other. Tell 
 me your troubles, Button, and perhaps I can help 
 them," the kind old gentleman said as he took her on 
 his knee and stroked the curly head with a paternal 
 touch. 
 
 So Rosy told her latest grief, and never saw the 
 smile that crept about the lips that asked in a tone of 
 deep interest, — 
 
 "Well, what do you mean to do to that unkind 
 Cicely]" 
 
 " For a minute I wanted to slap her back when 
 she tried to spat my hands. Then I 'membered that 
 Mamma said a kiss for a blow was a good thing, so I 
 picked up the beads and planned to do it; but Cis 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-EOSE. 209 
 
 looked so cross I could n't. If I had a pretty necklace 
 I 'd go and give it to her, and then maybe she 'd love 
 me better." 
 
 " My dear little missionary, you shall have beads to 
 win the heart of yotcr heathen, if that is all you need. 
 See here ; take anything you like, and give it with the 
 
 kiss." 
 
 As he spoke, Mr. Dover pulled open a drawer in the 
 desk and displayed a delightful collection of pretty, 
 quaint, and curious trinkets picked up in foreign lands, 
 and kept for keepsakes, since no little daughters of 
 his own lived to wear them. 
 
 " How perf 'ly dorgeous ! " cried Rosy, who often fell 
 into baby talk when excited; and plunging in her 
 hands, she revelled for some minutes in sandal-wood 
 cases, carved ivory fans, silver bangles, barbaric 
 brooches, and necklaces of coral, shells, amber, and 
 golden coins, that jingled musically. 
 
 "What shall I take for herT' cried the little maid, 
 bewildered by such a mine of wealth. *' You pick out 
 one, Mr. Thomas, that will please her so much, 'cause 
 you never send her anything, and she don't like it," 
 said Rosy, fearing that her own taste was not to be 
 trusted, as she liked the shells and shark's teeth orna- 
 ments best. 
 
 " No, I '11 give yoio one, and you shall do as you like 
 
 about giving it to her. This, now, is really valuable 
 
 and pretty, and any young lady would like to wear it. 
 
 It makes me think of you, my Button, for it is like 
 
 sunshine, and the word cut on the little heart means 
 
 ponce." 
 
 (446) 14 
 
210 
 
 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Mr. Dover held up a string of amber beads with 
 its carved amulet, and swung it to and fro where the 
 light shone through it till each bead looked like a 
 drop of golden wine. 
 
 " Yes, that is lovely, and it smells nice, too. She 
 will be so s'prised and pleased ; I '11 go and take it to 
 her right away," cried Rosy, forgetting to ask anything 
 for herself, in her delight at this fine gift for Cis. 
 
 But as she lifted her head after he had fastened the 
 clasp about her neck, something in his face recalled 
 the look it wore when she first came in, and putting 
 both hands upon his shoulders, she said in her sweet 
 little way, — 
 
 " You Ve made my troubles go away, can't I make 
 yours? You are so kind to me, I 'd love to help you 
 if I could." 
 
 " You do, my child, more than you know ; for when 
 I get you in my arms it seems as if one of my poor 
 babies had come back to me, and for a minute I forget 
 the three little graves far away in India." 
 
 " Three ! " cried Button, like a sad, soft echo ; and 
 she clung to the poor man as if trying to fill the 
 empty arms with the love and pity that overflowed the 
 childish soul in her small body. 
 
 This was the comfort Mr. Thomas wanted, and for 
 a few moments he just cradled her on his hungry heart, 
 crooning a Hindostanee lullaby, while a few slow tears 
 came dropping down upon the yellow head, so like 
 those hidden for years under the Indian flowers. 
 Presently he seemed to come back from the happy 
 past to which the old letters had carried him. He 
 
"Poor Button fell asleep." 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-ROSE. 211 
 
 wiped his eyes, and Rosy's also, with the big purple 
 silk handkerchief, and pressing some very grateful 
 kisses on the hot cheeks, said cheerfully again, — 
 
 " God bless you, child, that 's done me good ! But 
 don't let it sadden you, dear ; forget all about it, and 
 tell no one what a sentimental old fool I am." 
 
 " I never truly will ! Only when you feel sorry 
 about the poor little babies, let me come and give you 
 cuddlings. They always make people feel more better, 
 and I love 'em, and don't get any now my dear people 
 are away." 
 
 So the two made a tender little plan to comfort each 
 other when hearts were heavy with longings for the 
 absent, and parted at the small gate, both much 
 cheered, and faster friends than ever. 
 
 Rosy hastened in with her peace-offering, forgetful 
 now of headache or loneliness as she sat patiently in 
 the wide entry window-seat listening till some sound 
 in Cicely's room should show that she was awake. 
 Before that happened, however, poor Button fell asleep 
 herself, lulled by the quiet of the house, — for every one 
 was napping, — and dreamed that Mr. Dover stood 
 waving a rainbow over his head, while several Indian 
 gods and three little girls were dancing round him, 
 hand in hand, to the tune of '' Ring around a rosy." 
 
 A loud yawn roused her, and there was Cis peep- 
 ing out of her door to see what time it was by the old- 
 fashioned clock on the landing. Up scrambled the 
 child, feeling dizzy and heavy-eyed, but so eager to 
 give pleasure that she lost no time in saying, as she 
 swung the necklace in the sunshine, — 
 
212 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 " See ! this is for you, if you like it more better 
 than the thunder-and-lightning marbles, as Cousin 
 Penny calls the one you were going to wear." 
 
 " How lovely ! Where did you get it, child '? " cried 
 Cis, wide awake at once, as she ran to the glass to try 
 the effect of the new ornament on her white neck. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Thomas gave it to me ; but he said I 
 could give it away if I liked, and I want you to have it, 
 'cause it 's ever so much prettier than any you 've got." 
 
 " That 's very kind of you. Chicken, but why not 
 keep it yourself? You like nice things as well as I 
 do," said Cicely, much impressed by the value of the 
 gift, for it was real amber, and the clasp of gold. 
 
 " Well, I 've talked with Mr. Thomas about mission- 
 arying a great deal, and he told me how he made the 
 savinges good by giving them beads, and things to eat, 
 and being patient and kind to them. So I thought 
 I 'd play be a missionary, and call this house Africa, 
 and try to make the people here behave more better," 
 answered Rosy, with such engaging earnestness, as well 
 as frankness, that Cis laughed, and exclaimed, — 
 
 " You impertinent monkey, to call us heathen and 
 try to convert us ! How do you expect to do it % " 
 
 " Oh, I 'm getting on pretty well, only you don't con- 
 vert as quick as some of the savinges did. I '11 tell you 
 about it ; " and Button went on eagerly. " Cousin 
 Penny is the good old one, but rather fussy and slow, 
 so I 'm kind and patient, and now she loves me and lets 
 me do things I like. She is my best one. Cousin Henny 
 is my cannybel, 'cause she eats so much, and I please 
 her by bringing nice things and getting her cushions 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-ROSE. 213 
 
 ready. You are my baddest one, who is cross to me, 
 and fights, and raps my head, and slaps my hands ; so 
 I thought some beads would be nice for you, and I 
 bringed these beauties. Mr, Thomas gave 'em to me 
 when I told him my trials." 
 
 Cicely looked angry, amused, and ashamed, as she 
 listened to the funny yet rather pathetic little play 
 with which the lonely child had tried to cheer herself 
 and win the hearts of those about her. She had the 
 grace to blush, and offer back the necklace, saying in 
 a self-reproachful tone, — 
 
 " Keep your beads, little missionary, I '11 be con- 
 verted without them, and try to be kinder to you. I 
 am a selfish wretch, but you shall play be my little 
 sister, and not have to go to strangers for comfort in 
 your trials any more. Come, kiss me, dear, and we '11 
 begin now." 
 
 Rosy was in her arms at once, and clung there, say- 
 ing with a face all smiles, — 
 
 " That 's what I wanted ! I thought I 'd make a good 
 savinge of you if I tried very hard. Please be kind to 
 me just till Mamma comes back, and I '11 be the best 
 little sister that ever was." 
 
 " Why did n't you tell me all about it before 1 " 
 asked Cicely, smoothing the tired head on her shoul- 
 der with a new gentleness ; for this last innocent con- 
 fession had touched her heart as well as her 
 conscience. 
 
 " You never seemed to care about my plays, and al- 
 ways said, ' Don't chatter, child ; run away and take 
 care of yourself.' So I did ; but it was pretty dull, 
 
214 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 with only Tabby to tell secrets to and Bella to kiss. 
 Mr. Thomas said people over here did n't like children 
 very well, and I found they did n't. He does, dearly, 
 so I went to him ; but I like you now, you are so soft 
 and kind to me/' 
 
 " How hot your cheeks are ! Come and let me cool 
 them, and brush your hair for tea," said Cis, as she 
 touched the child's fevei'ish skin, and saw how heavy 
 her eyes were. 
 
 " I 'm all burning up, and my head is so funny. I 
 don't want any tea. I want to lie on your sofa and go 
 to sleep again. Can I % " asked Rosy, with a dizzy look 
 about the room, and a shiver at the idea of eating. 
 
 " Yes, dear, I '11 put on your little wrapper, and 
 make you all comfortable, and bring you some ice- 
 water, for your lips are very dry." 
 
 As she spoke, Cicely bustled about the room, and 
 soon had Rosy nicely settled with her best cologne- 
 bottle and a fan ; then she hastened down to report 
 that something was wrong, with a fear in her own 
 heart that if any harm did come to the child it would 
 be her fault. Some days before Cicely had sent 
 Button-Rose with a note to a friend's house where she 
 knew some of the younger children were ill. Since 
 then she had heard that it was scarlet fever ; but 
 though Rosy had waited some time for an answer to 
 the note, and seen one of the invalids, Cis had never 
 mentioned the fact, being ashamed to confess her 
 carelessness, hoping no harm was done. IN^ow she felt 
 that it had come, and went to tell gentle Cousin Penny 
 with tears of vain regret. 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-ROSE. 215 
 
 Great was the lamentation when the doctor, who 
 was sent for in hot haste, pronounced it scarlet fever ; 
 and deep was the self-reproach of the two older women 
 for their blindness in not before remarking the languid 
 air and want of appetite in "t,he child. But Cicely 
 was full of remorse ; for every quick word, every rap of 
 the hateful thimble, every service accepted without 
 thanks, weighed heavily on her conscience now, as such 
 things have an inconvenient way of doing when it is 
 too late to undo them. Every one was devoted to the 
 child, even lazy Miss Henny gave up her naps to sit 
 by her at all hours, Miss Penny hovered over the lit- 
 tle bed like a grandmother, and Cicely refused to think 
 of pleasure till the danger was over. 
 
 For soon Button-Rose was very ill, and the old 
 house haunted by the dreadful fear that death would 
 rob them of the little creature who grew so precious 
 when the thought of losing her made their hearts 
 stand still. How could they live without the sound 
 of that sweet voice chirping about the house, the busy 
 feet tripping up and down, the willing hands trying to 
 help, the sunny face smiling a,t every one, and going 
 away into corners to hide the tears that sometimes 
 came to dim its brightness 1 What would comfort the 
 absent mother for such a loss as this, and how could 
 they answer to the father for the carelessness that 
 risked the child's life for a girl's errand 1 No one dared 
 to think, and all prayed heartily for Rosy's life, as 
 they watched and waited by the little bed where she 
 lay 80 patiently, till the fever grew high and she be- 
 gan to babble about many things. Her childish trials 
 
216 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 ■were all told, her longings for Mamma, whose place 
 no one could fill, her quaint little criticisms upon those 
 about her, and her plans for making peace. These 
 innocent revelations caused many tears, and wrought 
 some changes in those who heard ; for Miss Penny 
 quite forgot her infirmities to live in the sick-room 
 as the most experienced nurse and tenderest watcher. 
 Miss Henny cooked her daintiest gruel, brewed her 
 coolest drinks, and lost many pounds in weight by 
 her indefatigable trotting up and down to minister 
 to the invalid's least caprice. Cicely was kept away 
 for fear of infection, but lier penance was to wander 
 about the great house, more silent than ever now, to 
 answer the inquiries and listen to the sad forebod- 
 ings of the neighbors, who came to offer help and sym- 
 pathy ; for all loved little Button-Rose, and grieved to 
 think of any blight falling on the pretty blossom. To 
 wile away the long hours. Cicely fell to dusting the 
 empty rooms, setting closets and drawers to rights, 
 and keeping all fresh and clean, to the great relief of 
 the old cousins, who felt that everything would go to 
 destruction in their absence. She read and sewed 
 now, having no heart for jaunting about; and as she 
 made the long neglected white pinafores, for Rosy, 
 she thought much of the little girl who might never 
 live to wear them. 
 
 Meantime the fever took its course, and came at 
 last to the fateful day when a few hours would settle 
 the question of life or death. The hot flush died out 
 of the cheeks that had lost their soft roundness now, 
 the lips were parched, the half-shut eyes looked like 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-ROSE.-- 217 
 
 sick violets, and all the pretty curls were tangled on 
 the pillow. Eosy no longer sung to Bella, talked of 
 " three dear little girls " and Mr. Thomas, tigers and 
 bangles, Cis and necklaces, hens and gates. She 
 ceased to call for Mamma, asked no more why her 
 " missionary man " never came, and took no notice of 
 the anxious old faces bending over her. She lay in a 
 stupor, and the doctor held the little wasted hand, and 
 tried to see the face of his watch with dim eyes as he 
 counted the faint pulse, whispering solemnly, — 
 
 *' We can only hope and wait now. Sleep alone 
 can save hei\" 
 
 As the sisters sat, one on either side the narrow bed 
 that day, and Cicely walked restlessly up and down 
 the long hall below, where both doors stood open to 
 let in the cool evening air, as the sun went down, a 
 quick but quiet step came up the steps, and Mr. 
 Dover walked in without ringing. He had been away, 
 and coming home an hour ago, heard the sad news. 
 Losing not a moment, he hurried to ask about his 
 little Button, and his face showed how great his love 
 and fear were, as he said in a broken whisper, — 
 
 " Will she live 1 My mother never told me how 
 serious it was, or I should have returned at once." 
 
 " We hope so, sir, but — " And there Cicely's voice 
 failed, as she hid her face and sobbed. 
 
 "My dear girl, don't give way. Keep up your 
 heart, hope, pray, will that the darling shall live, and 
 that may do some good. We can't let her go ! we 
 won't let her go ! Let me see her ; I know much of 
 fevers far worse than this, and might be able to suggest 
 
218 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 something," begged Mr. Dover, throwing down his 
 hat, and waving an immense fan with such an air of 
 resolution and cheery good-will that tired Cis felt 
 comforted at once, and led the way upstairs entirely 
 forgetting the great feud, as he did. 
 
 At the threshold of the door he paused, till the girl 
 had whispered his name. Miss Penny, always a gen- 
 tlewoman, rose at once and went to meet him, but Miss 
 Heuny did not even seem to see him, for just then, as if 
 dimly feeling that her friend was near, Rosy stirred, 
 and gave a long sigh. 
 
 Silently the three stood and looked at the beloved 
 little creature lying there in the mysterious shadow 
 of death, and they so helpless to keep her if the hour 
 for departure had come. 
 
 " God help us ! " sighed pious Miss Penny, folding 
 her old hands, as if they did that often now. 
 
 " Drifting away, I fear ; " and Miss Henny's plump 
 face looked almost beautiful, with the tears on it, as 
 she leaned nearer to listen to the faint breath at the 
 child's lips. 
 
 " No ; we will keep her, please the Lord ! If we can 
 make her sleep quietly for the next few hours she is 
 safe. Let me try. Fan slowly with this. Miss Henri- 
 etta, and you, dear lady, pray that the precious little 
 life may be given us." 
 
 As he spoke, Mr. Dover gave the great fan to Miss 
 Henny, took the small cold bands in his, and sitting 
 on the bedside held them close in his large warm 
 ones, as if trying to pour life and strength into the 
 frail body, as his eyes, fixed on the half-opened ones. 
 
LITTLE BUTTON-ROSE. 219 
 
 seemed to call back the innocent soul hovering on the 
 threshold of its prison, like the butterfly poised upon 
 the chrysalis before it soars away. 
 
 Miss Penny knelt down near by, and laying her 
 white head on the other pillow, again besought God to 
 spare this treasure to the father and mother over the 
 sea. How long they remained so none of them ever 
 knew, silent and motionless but for the slow waving 
 of the noiseless fan, which went to and fro like the 
 wing of a great white bird, as if Miss Henny's stout 
 arm could never tire. Miss Penny was so still she 
 seemed to be asleep. Mr. Dover never stirred, but 
 grew paler as the minutes passed ; and Cicely, creeping 
 now and then to look in and steal away, saw strange 
 power in the black eyes that seemed to hold tlie flut- 
 tering spirit of the little child by the love and longing 
 that made them both tender and commanding. 
 
 A level ray of sunlight stole throngh the curtain at 
 last and turned the tangles of bright hair to pure gold. 
 Miss Henny rose to shut it out, and as if her move- 
 ment broke the spell, Rosy took a long full breath, 
 turned on the pillow, and pvitting one hand under her 
 cheek, seemed to fall asleep as naturally as she used 
 to do when well. Miss Penny looked up, touched the 
 child's forehead, and whispered, with a look of grati- 
 tude as bright as if the sunshine had touched her 
 also, — 
 
 " It is moist ! this is real sleep ! Oh, my baby ! oh, 
 my baby ! " And the old head went down again with a 
 stifled sob, for her experienced eye told her that the 
 danger was passing by and Rosy would live. 
 
220 A GAELAND FOR GIELS. 
 
 "The prayers of the righteous avail much," mur- 
 mured Mr. Dover, turning to the other lady, who stood 
 beside her sister looking down at the little figure now 
 lying so restfully between them. 
 
 " How can we thank you 1 " she whispered, offering 
 her hand, with the smile which had once made her 
 pretty, and still touched the old face with something 
 better than beauty. 
 
 Mr. Dover took the haiid and answered, with an 
 eloquent look at the child, — 
 
 " Let not the sun go down upon our wrath. For- 
 give me and be friends again, for her sake." 
 
 " I will ! " And the plump hands gave the thin ones 
 a hearty shake as the great feud ended forever 
 over the bed of the little peacemaker whose child- 
 ish play had turned to happy earnest. 
 
MOUNTAm-LAUREL AND MAIDENHAIR. 
 
 " Here 's your breakfast, miss, I hope it 's right. 
 Your mother showed me how to fix it, and said I 'd 
 find a cup up here." 
 
 " Take that blue one. I have not much appetite, 
 and can't eat if things are not nice and pretty. I hke 
 the flowers. I 've been longing for some ever since I 
 saw them last night." 
 
 The first speaker was a red-haired, freckled-faced 
 girl, in a brown calico dress and white apron, with a 
 tray in her hands and an air of timid hospitality in 
 her manner ; the second a pale, pretty creature, in a 
 white wrapper and blue net, sitting in a large chair, 
 looking about her with the languid interest of an in- 
 valid in a new place. Her eyes brightened as they 
 fell upon a glass of rosy laurel and delicate maiden- 
 hair fern that stood among the toast and eggs, straw- 
 berries and cream, on the tray. 
 
 " Our laurel is jest in blow, and I 'm real glad you 
 come in time to see it. I '11 bring you a lot, as soon 's 
 ever I get time to go for it." 
 
 As she spoke, the plain girl replaced the ugly crock- 
 ery cup and saucer with the pretty china ones pointed 
 out to her, arranged the dishes, and waited to see if 
 anything else was needed. 
 
222 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 " What is your name, please 1 " asked the pretty girl, 
 refreshing herself with a draught of new milic. 
 
 " Eebecca. Mother thought I 'd better wait on you ; 
 the little girls are so noisy and apt to forget. 
 Would n't you like a piller to your back 1 you look so 
 kind of feeble seems as if you wanted to be propped 
 up a mite.'' 
 
 There was so much compassion and good-will in the 
 face and voice, that Emily accepted the offer, and let 
 Rebecca arrange a cushion behind her ; then, while the 
 one ate daintily, and the other stirred about an inner 
 room, the talk went on, — for two girls are seldom 
 long silent when together. 
 
 " I think the air is going to suit me, for I slept all 
 night and never woke till Mamma had been up ever 
 so long and got things all nicely settled," said Emily, 
 graciously, when the fresh strawberries had been en- 
 joyed, and the bread and butter began to vanish. 
 
 " I 'm real glad you like it ; most folks do, if they 
 don't mind it being plain and quiet up here. It's 
 gayer down at the hotel, but the air ain't half so good, 
 and delicate folks generally like our old place best," 
 answered Becky, as she tossed over a mattress and 
 shook out the sheets with a brisk, capable air pleasant 
 to see. 
 
 " 1 wanted to go to the hotel, but the doctor said it 
 would be too noisy for me, so Mamma was glad to find 
 rooms here. I did n't think a farm-house could be so 
 pleasant. That view is perfectly splendid ! " and 
 Emily sat vip to gaze delightedly out of the window, 
 below which spread the wide intervale, through which 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUREL AND MAIDENHAIR. 223 
 
 the river ran with hay-fields on either side, while 
 along the green slopes of the hills lay farm-houses 
 with garden plots, and big barns waiting for the har- 
 vest; and beyond, the rocky, wooded pastures dotted 
 with cattle and musical with cow -bells, brooks, and 
 birds. 
 
 A balmy wind kissed a little color into the pale 
 cheeks, the listless eyes brightened as they looked, 
 and the fretful lines vanished from lips that smiled 
 involuntarily at the sweet welcome Nature gave the 
 city child come to rest and play and grow gay and 
 rosy in her green lap. 
 
 Becky watched her with interest, and was glad to 
 see how soon the new-comer felt the charm of the 
 place, for the girl loved her mountain home, and 
 thought the old farm-house the loveliest spot in the 
 world. 
 
 " When you get stronger I can show you lots of 
 nice views round here. There 's a woodsy place behind 
 the house that 's just lovely. Down by the laurel 
 bushes is my favorite spot, and among the rocks is a 
 cave where I keep things handy when I get a resting- 
 spell now and then, and want to be quiet. Can't get 
 much at home, when there 's boarders and five children 
 round in vacation time." 
 
 Becky laughed as she spoke, and there was a sweet 
 motherly look in her plain face, as she glanced at the 
 three little red heads bobbing about the door-yard be- 
 low, where hens cackled, a pet lamb fed, and the old 
 white dog lay blinking in the sun. 
 
 '* I like children ; we have none at home, and 
 
224 A GAELAND FOK GIELS. 
 
 Mamma makes such a baby of me I 'm almost ashamed 
 sometimes. I want her to have a good rest now, for 
 she has taken care of me all winter and needs it. You 
 shall be my nurse, if I need one ; but I hope to be so 
 well soon that I can see to myself. It 's so tiresome 
 to be ill ! " and Emily sighed as she leaned back 
 among her pillows, with a glance at the little glass 
 which showed her a thin face and shorn head. 
 
 " It must be ! I never was sick, but I have taken 
 care of sick folks, and have a sight of sympathy for 
 'em. Mother says I make a pretty good nurse, being 
 strong and quiet," answered Becky, plumping up pil- 
 lows and folding towels with a gentle despatch which 
 was very grateful to the invalid, who had dreaded a 
 noisy, awkward serving-maid. 
 
 " Never ill ! how nice that must be ! I 'm always 
 having colds and headaches, and fusses of some kind. 
 What do you do to keep well, Eebecca 1 " asked Emily, 
 watching her with interest, as she came in to remove the 
 tray. 
 
 " Nothing but work ; I have n't time to be sick, and 
 when I'm tuckered out, I go and rest over yonder. 
 Then I 'm all right, and buckle to again, as smart as 
 ever;" and every freckle in Becky's rosy face seemed 
 to shine with cheerful strength and courage. 
 
 " I 'm ' tuckered out ' doing nothing," said Emily, 
 amused with the new expression, and eager to try a 
 remedy which showed such fine results in this case. 
 " I shall visit your pet places and do a little work as 
 soon as I am able, and see if it won't set me up. Now 
 I can only dawdle, doze, and read a little. WiU you 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUEEL AND MAIDENHAIK. 225 
 
 please put those books here on the table] I shall 
 want them by-and-by." 
 
 Emily pointed to a pile of blue and gold volumes 
 lying on a trunk, and Becky dusted her hands as she 
 took them up with an air of reverence, for she read on 
 the backs of the volumes names which made her eyes 
 sparkle. 
 
 " Do you care for poetry 1 " asked Emily, surprised 
 at the girl's look and manner. 
 
 " Guess I do ! don't get much except the pieces I 
 cut out of papers, but I love 'em, and stick 'em in an 
 old ledger, and keep it down in my cubby among the 
 rocks. I do love that man's pieces. They seem to go 
 right to the spot somehow;" and Becky smiled at the 
 name of Whittier as if the sweetest of our poets was a 
 dear old friend of hers. 
 
 " I like Tennyson better. Do you know him 1 " 
 asked Emily, with a superior air, for the idea of this 
 farmer's daughter knowing anything about poetry 
 amused her. 
 
 " Oh yes, I 've got a number of his pieces in my 
 book, and I 'm fond of 'em. But this man makes 
 things so kind of true and natural I feel at home with 
 him. And this one I 've longed to read, though I 
 guess I can't understand much of it. His 'Bumble 
 Bee ' was just lovely ; with the grass and columbines 
 and the yellow breeches of the bee. I 'm never tired 
 of that; "and Becky's face woke up into something like 
 beauty as she glanced hungrily at the Emerson while 
 she dusted the delicate cover that hid the treasures 
 she coveted. 
 
226 A GAKLAND FOE GIRLS. 
 
 " I don't care much for him, but Mamma does. I 
 like romantic poems, and ballads, and songs ; don't 
 like descriptions of clouds, and fields, and bees, and 
 farmers," said Emily, showing plainly that even Emer- 
 son's simplest poems were far above her comprehen- 
 sion as yet, because she loved sentiment more than 
 Nature. 
 
 " I do, because I know 'em better than love and 
 the romantic stuff most poetry tells about. But I 
 don't pretend to judge, I 'm glad of anything I can 
 get. Now if you don't want me I '11 pick up my 
 dishes and go to work." 
 
 With that Becky went away, leaving Emily to rest 
 and dream with her eyes on the landscape which was 
 giving her better poetry than any her books held. 
 She told her mother about the odd girl, and was sure 
 she would be amusing if she did not forget her place 
 and try to be friends. 
 
 " She is a good creature, my dear, her mother's main 
 stay, and works beyond her strength, I am sure. Be 
 kind to the poor girl, and put a little pleasure into her 
 life if you can," answered Mrs. Spenser, as she moved 
 about, settling comforts and luxuries for her invalid. 
 
 "I shall have to talk to her, as there is no other 
 person of my age in the house. How are the school 
 marms? shall you get on with them. Mamma? It 
 will be so lonely here for us both, if we don't make 
 friends with some one." 
 
 " Most intelligent and amiable women all three, and 
 we shall have pleasant times together, I am sure. You 
 may safely cultivate Becky; Mrs. Taylor told me she 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUREL AND MAIDENHAIR. 227 
 
 was a remarkably bright girl, though she may not 
 look it." 
 
 "Well, I'll see. But I do hate freckles and big 
 red hands, and round shoulders. She can't help it, I 
 suppose, but ugly things fret me." 
 
 " Ilemember that she has no time to be pretty, and 
 be glad she is so neat and "willing. Shall we read, 
 dear 1 I 'm ready now." 
 
 Emily consented, and listened for an hour or two 
 while the pleasant voice beside her conjured away all 
 her vapors with some of Mrs. Swing's charming tales. 
 
 " The grass is dry now, and I want to stroll on that 
 green lawn before lunch. You rest. Mamma dear, and 
 let me make discoveries all alone," proposed Emily, 
 when the sun shone warmly, and the instinct of all 
 young creatures for air and motion called her out. 
 
 So, with her hat and wrap, and book and parasol, 
 she set forth to explore the new land in which she 
 found herself. 
 
 Down the wide, creaking stairs and out upon the 
 door-stone she went, pausing there for a moment to 
 decide where first to go. The sound of some one sing- 
 ing in the rear of the house led her in that direction, 
 and turning the corner she made her first pleasant dis- 
 covery. A hill rose steeply behind the farm-house, 
 and leaning from the bank was an old apple-tree^ sha- 
 ding a spring that trickled out from the rocks and 
 dropped into a mossy trough below. Up the tree 
 had grown a wild grape-vine, making a green canopy 
 over the great log which served as a sent, and some 
 one had planted maidenhair ferns about both seat and 
 
228 A GAELAND FOR GIELS. 
 
 spring to flourish beautifully in the damp, shady- 
 spot. 
 
 " Oh, how pretty ! I '11 go and sit there. It looks 
 clean, and I can see what is going on in that big 
 kitchen, and hear the singing. I suppose it 's Becky's 
 little sisters by the racket." 
 
 Emily established herself on the lichen-covered log 
 with her feet upon a stone, and sat enjoying the musi- 
 cal tinkle of the water, with her eyes on the delicate 
 ferns stirring in the wind, and the lively jingle of the 
 multiplication-table chanted by childish voices in her 
 ear. 
 
 Presently two little girls with a great pan of beans 
 came to do their work on the back door-step, a third 
 was seen washing dishes at a window, and Becky's 
 brown-spotted gown flew about the kitchen as if a 
 very energetic girl wore it. A woman's voice was 
 heard giving directions, as the speaker was evidently 
 picking chickens somewhere out of sight. 
 
 A little of the talk reached Emily and both amused 
 and annoyed her, for it proved that the country people 
 were not as stupid as they looked. 
 
 " Oh, well, we must n't mind if she is notional and 
 kind of wearing ; she 's been sick, and it will take time 
 to get rid of her fretty ways. Jest be pleasant, and 
 take no notice, and that nice mother of hers will make 
 it all right," said the woman's voice. 
 
 "How anybody with eveiy mortal thing to be 
 happy with ccm be out-of-sorts passes me. She 
 fussed about every piller, chair, trunk, and mite of 
 food last night, and kept that poor tired lady trotting 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUREL AND MAIDENHAIR. 229 
 
 till I was provoked. She 's right pleasant this morn- 
 ing though, and as pretty as a picture in her ruffled 
 gown and that blue thing on her head," answered 
 Becky from the pantry, as she rattled out the pie- 
 board, little dreaming who sat hidden behind the 
 grape-vine festoons that veiled the corner by the 
 spring. 
 
 " Well, she 's got redder hair 'n' we have, so she 
 need n't be so grand and try to hide it with blue 
 nets," added one little voice. 
 
 " Yes, and it 's ever so much shorter 'n' ours, and 
 curls all over her head like Daisy's wool. I should 
 think such a big girl would feel real ashamed without 
 no braids," said the other child, proudly surveying the 
 tawny mane that hung over her shoulders, — for like 
 most red-haired people all the children were blessed 
 with luxuriant crops of every shade from golden 
 auburn to regular carrots. 
 
 " I think it 's lovely. Suppose it had to be cut off 
 when she had the fever. "Wish I could get rid of my 
 mop, it 's such a bother;" and Becky was seen tying a 
 clean towel over the great knot that made her head 
 look very like a copper kettle. 
 
 "jSTow fly round, deary, and get them pies ready. 
 I '11 have these fowls on in a minute, and then go to 
 my butter. You run off and see if you can't find some 
 wild strawberries for the poor girl, soon 's ever you are 
 through with them beans, children. We must kind of 
 pamper her up for a spell till her appetite comes back," 
 said the mother. 
 
 Here the chat ended, and soon the little girls were 
 
230 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 gone, leaving Becky alone rolling out pie-crust before 
 the pantry window. As she worked her lips moved, 
 and Emily, still peeping through the leaves, wondered 
 what she was saying, for a low murmur rose and fell, 
 emphasized now and then with a thump of the rolling- 
 pin. 
 
 " I mean to go and find out. If I stand on that 
 wash-bench I can look in and see her work. I '11 
 show them all that I'm not ' fussy,' and can be ' right 
 pleasant ' if I like." 
 
 With this wise resolution Emily went down the lit- 
 tle path, and after pausing to examine the churn set 
 out to dry, and the row of pans shining on a neighbor- 
 ing shelf, made her way to the window, mounted the 
 bench while Becky's back was turned, and pushing 
 away the morning-glory vines and scarlet beans that 
 ran up on either side peeped in with such a smiling 
 face that the crossest cook could not have frowned on 
 her as an intruder. 
 
 " May I see you workl ] can't eat pies, but I like 
 to watch people make them. Do you mind 1 " 
 
 " Not a bit. I 'd ask you to come in, but it 's dread- 
 ful hot here, and not much room," answered Becky, 
 crimping round the pastry before she poured in the 
 custard. "I'm going to make a nice little pudding 
 for you ; your mother said you liked 'em ; or would 
 you rather have whipped cream with a mite of jelly in 
 it 1 " asked Becky, anxious to suit her new boarder. 
 
 " Whichever is easiest to make. I don't care what 
 I eat. Do tell me what you were saying. It sounded 
 like poetry," said Emily, leaning both elbows on the 
 
MOUNT AIN-LAUEEL AND MAIDENHAIR 231 
 
 wide ledge with a pale pink morning-glory kissing her 
 cheek, and a savory odor reaching her nose. 
 
 " Oh, I was mumbling some verses. I often do 
 vrhen I work, it sort of helps me along ; but it must 
 sound dreadful silly," and Becky blushed as if caught 
 in some serious fault. 
 
 " I do it, and it 's a great comfort when I lie awake. 
 I should think you would want something to help you 
 along, you work so hard. Do you like it, Becky 1 " 
 
 The familiar name, the kind tone, made the plain 
 face brighten with pleasure as its owner said, while she 
 carefully filled a pretty bowl with a golden mixture 
 rich with fresh eggs and country milk, — 
 
 " No, I don't, but I ought to. Mother is n't as 
 strong as she used to be, and there 's a sight to do, 
 and the children to be brought up, and the mortgage 
 to be paid off" ; so if / don't fly round, who will 1 We 
 are doing real well now, for Mr. Walker manages 
 the farm and gives us our share, so our living is all 
 right ; then boarders in summer and my school in 
 winter helps a deal, and every year the boys can do 
 more, so I 'd be a real sinner to complain if T do have 
 to step lively all day." 
 
 Becky smiled as she spoke, and straightened her 
 bent shoulders as if settling her burden for another 
 trudge along the path of duty. 
 
 " Do you keep school ] Why, how old are you, 
 Becky 1 " asked Emily, much impressed by this new 
 discovery. 
 
 " I 'm eighteen. I took the place of a teacher who 
 got sick last fall, and I kept school all winter. Folks 
 
232 A GARLAND FOE GIRLS. 
 
 seemed to like me, and I 'm going to have the same 
 place this year. I 'm so glad, for I need n't go away, 
 and the pay is pretty good, as the school is large and 
 the children do well. You can see the school-house 
 down the valley, that red brick one where the roads 
 meet ; " and Becky pointed a floury finger, with an air 
 of pride that was pleasant to see. 
 
 Emily glanced at the little red house where the 
 sun shone hotly in sixmmer, and all the winds of 
 heaven must rage wildly in winter time, for it stood, 
 as country schools usually do, in the barest, most un- 
 inviting spot for miles around. 
 
 " Is n't it awful down there in winter 1" she asked, 
 with a shiver at the idea of spending days shut up 
 in that forlorn place, with a crowd of rough country 
 children. 
 
 " Pretty cold, but we have plenty of wood, and we 
 are used to snow and gales up here. We often coast 
 down, the whole lot of us, and that is great fun. 
 We take our dinners and have games noon-spells, 
 and so we get on first rate ; some of my boys are big 
 fellows, older than I am, and they clear the roads and 
 make the fire and look after us, and we are real 
 happy together," 
 
 Emily found it so impossible to imagine happiness 
 under such circumstances that she changed the sub- 
 ject by asking in a tone which had unconsciously 
 grown more respectful since this last revelation of 
 Becky's abilities, — 
 
 " If you do so well here, why don't you try for a 
 larger school in a better place 1 " 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUREL AND MAIDENHAIR. 233 
 
 " Oh, I could ii't leave mother yet ; I hope to some 
 day, when the girls are older, and the boys able to get 
 on alone. But I can't go now, for there 's a sight of 
 things to do, and mother is always laid up with rheu- 
 matism in cold weather. So much butter-making 
 down cellar is bad for her ; but she won't let me do 
 that in summer, so I take care of her in winter. I can 
 see to things night and morning, and through the day 
 she 's quiet, and sits piecing carpet-rags and resting 
 up for next spring. We made and wove all the carpets 
 in the house, except the parlor one. Mrs. Taylor gave 
 us that, and the curtains, and the easy-chair. Mother 
 takes a sight of comfort in that." 
 
 " Mrs. Taylor is the lady who first came to board 
 here, and told us and others about it," said Emily. 
 
 " Yes, and she 's the kindest lady in the world ! I '11 
 tell you all about her some day, it 's real interesting ; 
 now I must see to my pies, and get the vegetables 
 on," answered Becky, glancing at the gay clock in the 
 kitchen with an anxious look. 
 
 " Then I won't waste any more of your precious 
 time. May I sit in that pretty place ; or is it your 
 private bower 1 " asked Emily, as she dismounted from 
 the wash-bench. 
 
 " Yes, indeed you may. That 's mother's resting- 
 place when work is done. Father made the spring 
 long ago, and I put the ferns there. She can't go ram- 
 bling round, and she likes pretty things, so we fixed it 
 up for her, and she takes comfort there nights." 
 
 Becky bustled off to the oven with her pies, and 
 Emily roamed away to the big barn to lie on the hay, 
 
234 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 enjoying the view down the valley, as she thought 
 over what she had seen and heard, and very naturally 
 contrasted her own luxurious and tenderly guarded 
 life with this other girl's, so hard and dull and nar- 
 row. Working all summer and teaching all winter 
 in that dismal little school-house, with no change but 
 home cares and carpet-weaving ! It looked horrible to 
 pleasure-loving Emily, who led the happy, care-free 
 life of girls of her class, with pleasures of all sorts, and 
 a future of still greater luxury, variety, and happiness, 
 opening brightly before her. 
 
 It worried her to think of any one being contented 
 with such a meagre share of the good things of life, 
 when she was unsatisfied in spite of the rich store 
 showered upon her. She could not understand it, and 
 fell asleep wishing every one could be comfortable, — it 
 was so annoying to see them grubbing in kitchens, 
 teaching in bleak school-houses among snow-drifts, and 
 wearing ugly calico gowns. 
 
 A week or two of quiet, country fare and the brac- 
 ing mountain air worked wonders for the invalid, and 
 every one rejoiced to see the pale cheeks begin to grow 
 round and rosy, the languid eyes to brighten, and the 
 feeble girl who used to lie on her sofa half the day 
 now go walking about with her alpenstock, eager to 
 explore all the pretty nooks among the hills. Her 
 mother blessed Mrs. Taylor for suggesting this whole- 
 some place. The tired " school marms," as Emily 
 called the three young women who were their fellow- 
 boarders, congratulated her as well as themselves on 
 the daily improvement in strength and spirits all felt ; 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUREL AND MAIDENHAIR. 235 
 
 and Becky exulted in the marvellous effects of her na- 
 tive air, aided by mother's good cookery and the cheerful 
 society of the children, whom the good girl considered 
 the most remarkable and lovable youngsters in the 
 world. 
 
 Emily felt like the queen of this little kingdom, and 
 was regarded as such by every one, for with returning 
 health she lost her fretful ways, and living with simple 
 people, soon forgot her girlish airs and vanities, be- 
 coming very sweet and friendly with all about her. 
 The children considered her a sort of good fairy who 
 could grant wishes with magical skill, as various gifts 
 plainly proved. The boys were her devoted servants, 
 ready to run errands, " hitch up " and take her to 
 drive at any hour, or listen in mute delight when she 
 sang to her guitar in the summer twilight. 
 
 But to Becky she was a special godsend and com- 
 fort, for before the first month had gone they were 
 good friends, and Emily had made a discovery which 
 filled her head with brilliant plans for Becky's future, 
 in spite of her mother's warnings, and the sensible 
 girl's own reluctance to be dazzled by enthusiastic 
 prophecies and dreams. 
 
 It came about in this way. Some three weeks after 
 the two girls met, Emily went one evening to their fa- 
 vorite trysting-place, — Becky's bower among the lau- 
 rels. It was a pretty nook in the shadow of a great gray 
 bowlder near the head of the green valley which ran 
 down to spread into the wide intervale below. A 
 brook went babbling among the stones and grass and 
 sweet-ferns, while all the slope was rosy with laurel- 
 
236 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 flowers in their time, as the sturdy bushes grew 
 thickly on the hill-side, down the valley, and among 
 the woods that made a rich background for these 
 pink and white bouquets arranged with Nature's own 
 careless grace. 
 
 Emily liked this spot, and ever since she had been 
 strong enough to reach it, loved to climb up and sit there 
 with book and work, enjoying the lovely panorama be- 
 fore her. Floating mists often gave her a constant 
 succession of pretty pictures ; now a sunny glimpse of 
 the distant lake, then the church spire peeping above 
 the hill, or a flock of sheep feeding in the meadow, a 
 gay procession of young pilgrims winding up the 
 mountain, or a black cloud heavy with a coming storm, 
 welcome because of the glorious rainbow and its 
 shadow which would close the pageant. 
 
 Unconsciously the girl grew to feel not only the 
 beauty but the value of these quiet hours, to find a 
 new peace, refreshment, and happiness, bubbling up in 
 her heart as naturally as the brook gushed out among 
 the mossy rocks, and went singing away through hay- 
 fields and gardens, and by dusty roads, till it met the 
 river and rolled on to the sea. Something dimly 
 stirred in her, and the healing spirit that haunts 
 such spots did its sweet ministering till the inno- 
 cent soul began to see that life was not perfect with- 
 out labor as well as love, duty as well as happiness, 
 and that true contentment came from within, not 
 from without. 
 
 On the evening we speak of, she went to wait for 
 Becky, who would join her as soon as the after-supper 
 
MOUNT AIN-LAUEEL AND MAIDENHAIE. 237 
 
 chores were done. In the little cave which held a few 
 books, a dipper, and a birch-bark basket for berries, 
 Emily kept a sketching block and a box of pencils, 
 and often amused herself by trying to catch some of 
 the lovely scenes before her. These efforts usually 
 ended in a humbler attempt, and a good study of 
 an oak-tree, a bit of rock, or a clump of ferns was 
 the result. This evening the sunset was so beautiful 
 she could not draw, and remembering that some- 
 where in Becky's scrap-book there was a fine descrip- 
 tion of such an hour by some poet, she pulled out 
 the shabby old volume, and began to turn over the 
 leaves. 
 
 She had never cared to look at it but once, having 
 read all the best of its contents in more attractive 
 volumes, so Becky kept it tucked away in the farther 
 corner of her rustic closet, and evidently thought it a 
 safe place to conceal a certain little secret which Emily 
 now discovered. As she turned the stiff pages filled 
 with all sorts of verses, good, bad, and indifferent, a 
 sheet of paper appeared on which was scribbled these 
 lines in school-girl handwriting : — 
 
 MOUNTAIN-LAUEEL. 
 
 My bonnie flower, with truest joy 
 
 Thy welcome face I see, 
 The world grows brighter to my eyes, 
 
 And summer comes with thee. 
 My solitude now finds a friend, 
 
 And after each hard day, 
 I in my mountain garden walk, 
 
 To rest, or sing, or pray. 
 
238 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 All down the rocky slope is spread 
 
 Thy veil of rosy snow, 
 And in the valley by the brook, 
 
 Thy deeper blossoms grow. 
 The barren wilderness grows fair, 
 
 Such beauty dost thou give ; 
 And human eyes and Nature's heart 
 
 Kejoice that thou dost live. 
 
 Each year I wait thy coming, deai", 
 
 Each year I love thee more. 
 For life grows hard, and much I need 
 
 Thy honey for my store. 
 So, like a hungry bee, I sip 
 
 Sweet lessons from thy cup, 
 And sitting at a flower's feet. 
 
 My soul learns to look up. 
 
 No laurels shall I ever win. 
 
 No splendid blossoms bear, 
 But gratefully receive and use 
 
 God's blessed sun and air ; 
 And, blooming where my lot is cast 
 
 Grow happy and content. 
 Making some barren spot more fair. 
 
 For a humble life well spent. 
 
 " She wrote it herself ! I can't believe it ! " said 
 Emily, as she put down the paper, looking rather 
 startled, for she did believe it, and felt as if she had 
 suddenly looked into a fellow-creature's heart. " I 
 thought her just an ordinary girl, and here she is a 
 poet, writing verses that make me want to cry ! I 
 don't suppose they are very good, but they seem to 
 come right out of her heart, and touch me with the 
 longing and the patience or the piety in them. Well, 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUEEL AND MAIDENHAIR. 239 
 
 I am surprised ! ' and Emily read the lines again, see- 
 ing the faults more plainly than before, but still feeling 
 that the girl put herself into them, vainly trying to 
 express what the wild flower was to her in the loneli- 
 ness which comes to those who have a little spark of 
 the divine fire burning in their souls. 
 
 " Shall I tell her I 've found it out 1 I must ! and see 
 if I can't get her verses printed. Of course she has more 
 tucked away somewhere. That is what she hums to 
 herself when she's at work, and won't tell me about 
 when I ask. Sly thing ! to be so bashful and hide her 
 gift. I'll tease'her a bit and see what she says. Oh 
 dear, I wish / could do it ! Perhaps she '11 be famous 
 some day, and then I '11 have the glory of discoveiing 
 her." 
 
 With that consolation Emily turned over the pages 
 of the ledger and found several more bits of verse, 
 some very good for an untaught girl, others very 
 faulty, but all having a certain strength of feeling and 
 simplicity of language unusual in the effusions of 
 young maidens at the sentimental age. 
 
 Emily had a girlish admiration for talent of any 
 kind, and being fond of poetry, was especially pleased 
 to find that her humble friend possessed the power of 
 writing it. Of course she exaggerated Becky's talent, 
 and as she waited for her, felt sure that she had dis- 
 covered a feminine Burns among the ISTew Hampshire 
 hills, for all the verses were about natural and homely 
 objects, touched into beauty by sweet words or tender 
 sentiment. She had time to build a splendid castle in 
 the air and settle Becky in it with a crown of glory on 
 
240 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 her head, before the quiet figure in a faded sunbonnet 
 came slowly up the slope with the glow of sunset on a 
 tired but tranquil face. 
 
 " Sit here and have a good rest, while I talk to you," 
 said Emily, eager to act the somewhat dramatic scene 
 she had planned. Becky sunk upon the red cushion 
 prepared for her, and sat looking down at the ani- 
 mated speaker, as Emily, perched on a mossy stone 
 before her, began the performance. 
 
 " Becky, did you ever hear of the Goodale children ? 
 They lived in the country and wrote poetry and grew 
 to be famous." 
 
 "Oh yes, I've read their poems and like 'em very 
 much. Do you know 'em 1 " and Becky looked inter- 
 ested at once. 
 
 " No, but I once met a girl who was something like 
 them, only she did n't have such an easy time as 
 they did, with a father to help, and a nice Sky-farm, 
 and good luck generally. I 've tried to write verses 
 myself, but I always get into a muddle, and give it up. 
 This makes me interested in other girls who can do 
 it, and I want to help my friend. I 'm sure she has 
 talent, and I 'd so like to give her a lift in some way. 
 Let me read you a piece of hers and see what you 
 think of it." 
 
 " Do ! " and Becky threw off the sunbonnet, folded 
 her hands round her knees, and composed herself to 
 listen with such perfect unconsciousness of what was 
 coming that Emily both laughed at the joke and 
 blushed at the liberty she felt she was taking with the 
 poor girl's carefully hidden secret. 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUREL AND MAIDENHAIR. 241 
 
 Becky was sure now that Emily was going to read 
 something of her own after this artful introduction, 
 and began to smile as the paper was produced and the 
 first four lines read in a tone that was half timid, half 
 triumphant. Then with a cry she seized and crumpled 
 up the paper, exclaiming almost fiercely, — 
 
 " It 's mine ! Where did you get it ? How dar'st 
 you touch it 1 " 
 
 Emily fell upon her knees with a face and voice so 
 full of penitence, pleasure, sympathy, and satisfaction, 
 that Becky's wrath was appeased before her friend's 
 explanation ended with these soothing and delightful 
 words, — 
 
 " That 's all, dear, and I beg your p^ardon. But I 'm 
 sure you will be famous if you keep on, and I shall yet 
 see a volume of poems by Rebecca Moore of Eocky 
 Nook, New Hampshire. 
 
 Becky hid her face as if shame, surprise, wonder, 
 and joy filled her heart too full and made a few 
 happy tears drop on the hands so worn with hard 
 work, when they ached to be holding a pen and trying 
 to record the fancies that sung in her brain as cease- 
 lessly as the soft sough of the pines or the rip^jle of 
 the brook murmured in her ear when she sat here 
 alone. She could not express the vague longhigs that 
 stirred in her soul; she could only feel and dimly 
 strive to understand and uttei them, with no thought 
 of fame or fortune, — for she was a humble creature, 
 and never knew that the hardships of her life were press- 
 ing out the virtues of her nature as the tread of care- 
 less feet crush the sweet perfume from wild herbs. 
 
 (44o; 16 
 
242 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Presently she looked up, deeply touched by Emily's 
 words and caresses, and her blue eyes shone like stars 
 as her face beamed with something finer than mere 
 beauty, for the secrets of her innocent heart were 
 known to this friend now, and it was very sweet to 
 accept the first draught of confidence and praise. 
 
 " I don't mind much, but I was scared for a minute. 
 No one knows but Motlier, and she laughs at me, 
 though she don't care if it makes me happy. I 'm 
 glad you like my scribbling, but really I never think 
 or hope of being anybody. I could n't, you know ! 
 but it 's real nice to have you say I might and to 
 make believe for a little while." 
 
 " But why not, Becky 1 The Goodale girls did, and 
 half the poets in the world were poor, ignorant people 
 at first, you know. It only needs time and help, and 
 the gift will grow, and people see it ; and then the 
 glory and the money will come," cried Emily, quite 
 carried away by her own enthusiasm and good-will. 
 
 " Could I get any money by these things % " asked 
 Becky, looking at the crumpled paper lying under a 
 laurel-biish. 
 
 " Of course you could, dear ! Let me have some of 
 them, and I '11 show you that I know good poetry 
 when I see it. You will believe if some bank-bills 
 come with the paper the verses appear in, I hope 1 " 
 
 Blind to any harm she might do by exciting vain 
 hopes in her eagerness to cheer and help, Emily made 
 this rash proposal in all good faith, meaning to pay 
 for the verses herself if no editor was found to accept 
 them. 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUREL AND MAIDENHAIR. 243 
 
 Becky looked half bewildered by this brilliant pros- 
 pect, and took a long breath, as if some hand had 
 lifted a heavy biirden a little way from her weary 
 back, for stronger tha;n ambition for herself was love 
 for her family, and the thought of help for them was 
 sweeter than any dream of fame. 
 
 ''Yes, I would ! oh, if I only could, I 'd be the hap- 
 piest girl in the world ! But I can't believe it, Emily. 
 I heard Mrs. Taylor say that only the very best poetry 
 paid, and mine is poor stuff, I know well enough." 
 
 " Of course it needs polishing and practice, and all 
 that ; but I 'm sure it is oceans better than half the 
 sentimental twaddle we see in the papers, and I hioiv 
 that some of those pieces are paid for, because I have 
 a friend who is in a newpaper office, and he told me so. 
 Yours are quaint and simple and some very original. 
 I 'm sure that ballad of the old house is lovely, and I 
 want to send it to Whittier. Mamma knows him; 
 it 's the sort he likes, and he is so kind to every one, 
 he will criticise it, and be interested when she tells 
 him about you. Do let me ! " 
 
 " I never could in the world ! It would be so bold, 
 Mother would think I was crazy. I love Mr. Whittier, 
 but I would n't dar'st to show him my nonsense, though 
 reading his beautiful poetry helps me ever so much." 
 
 Becky looked and spoke as if her breath had been 
 taken away by this audacious proposal ; and yet a 
 sudden delicious hope sprung up in her heart that 
 there might, perhaps, be a spark of real virtue in the 
 little fire which burned within her, warming and 
 brightening her dull life. 
 
244 A GAKLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 " Let us ask Mamma ; she will tell us what is best 
 to do first, for she knows all sorts of literary people, 
 and won't say any more than you want her to. I 'm 
 bent on having my way, Becky, and the more modest 
 you are, the surer I am that you are a genius. Real 
 geniuses always are shy; so you just make up your 
 mind to give me the best of your pieces, and let me 
 prove that I 'm right." 
 
 It was impossible to resist such persuasive words, 
 and Becky soon yielded to the little siren who was 
 luring her out of her safe, small pool into the deeper 
 water that looks so blue and smooth till the venture- 
 some paper boats get into the swift eddies, or run 
 aground upon the rocks and sandbars. 
 
 The greatest secrecy was to be preserved, and no 
 one but Mrs. Spenser was to know what a momentous 
 enterprise was afoot. The girls sat absorbed in their 
 brilliant plans till it was nearly dark, then groped 
 their way home hand in hand, leaving another secret 
 for the laurels to keep and dream over through their 
 long sleep, for blossom time was past, and the rosy 
 faces turning pale in the July sun. 
 
 Neither of the girls forgot the talk they had that 
 night in Emily's room, for she led her captive straight 
 to her mother, and told her all their plans and as- 
 pirations without a moment's delay. 
 
 Mrs. Spenser much regretted her daughter's well- 
 meant enthusiasm, but fearing harm might be done, 
 very wisely tried to calm the innocent excitement of 
 both by the quiet matter-of-fact way in which she 
 listened to the explanation Emily gave her, read the 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUKEL AND MAIDENHAIR. 245 
 
 verses timidly offered by Becky, and then said, kindly 
 but firmly : — 
 
 " This is not poetry, my dear girls, though the lines 
 run smoothly enough, and the sentiment is sweet. It 
 would bring neither fame nor money, and Eebecca 
 puts more real truth, beauty, and poetry into her duti- 
 ful daily life than in any lines she has written." 
 
 "We had such a lovely plan for Becky to come to 
 town with me, and see the world, and write, and be 
 famous. How can you spoil it all 1 " 
 
 "My foolish little daughter, I must prevent you 
 from spoiling this good girl's life by your rash pro- 
 jects. Becky will see that I am wise, though you do 
 not, and she will understand this verse from my favor- 
 ite poet, and lay it to heart : — 
 
 "So near is grandeur to our dust, 
 So nigh is God to man, 
 When Duty whispers low, ' Thou must ! ' 
 The youth replies, ' I can ! ' " 
 
 " I do ! I will ! please go on," and Becky's troubled 
 eyes grew clear and steadfast as she took the words 
 home to herself, resolving to live up to them. 
 
 " Oh, mother ! " cried Emily, thinking her very 
 cruel to nip their budding hopes in this way. 
 
 " I know you won't believe it now, nor be able to 
 see all that I mean perhaps, but time will teach you 
 both to own that I am right, and to value the sub- 
 stance more than the shadow," continued Mrs. Spenser. 
 " Many girls write verses and think they are poets ; 
 but it is only a passing mood, and fortunately for the 
 
246 A GARLAND FOE GIELS. . 
 
 world, and for them also, it soon dies out iu some 
 more genuine work or passion. Very few have the 
 real gift, and those to whom it is given wait and work 
 and slowly reach the height of their powers. Many de- 
 lude themselves, and try to persuade the world that 
 they can sing ; but it is waste of time, and ends in dis- 
 appointment, as the mass of sentimental rubbish we 
 all see plainly proves. Write your little verses, my 
 dear, when the spirit moves, — it is a harmless pleasure^ 
 a real comfort, and a good lesson for you ; but do not 
 neglect higher duties or deceive yourself with false 
 hopes and vain dreams. ' First live, then write,' is 
 a good motto for ambitious young people. A still bet- 
 ter for us all is, ' Do the duty that lies nearest ; ' and 
 the faithful performance of that, no matter how hum- 
 ble it is, will be the best help for whatever talent may 
 lie hidden in us, ready to bloom when the time comes. 
 Remember this, and do not let my enthusiastic girl's 
 well-meant but unwise prophecies and plans unsettle 
 you, and unfit you for the noble work you are doing." 
 
 " Thank you, ma'am ! I will remember ; I know you 
 are right, and I won't be upset by foolish notions. I 
 never imagined before that I could be a poet ; but it 
 sounded so sort of splendid, I thought maybe it might 
 happen to me, by-and-b}^, as it does to other folks. I 
 won't lot on it, but settle right down and do my work 
 cheerful." 
 
 As she listened, Becky's face had grown pale and 
 serious, even a little sad ; but as she answered, her 
 eyes shone, her lips were firm, and her plain face al- 
 most beautiful with the courage and coufidence that 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUREL AND MAIDENHAIR. 247 
 
 sprung up within her. She saw the wisdom of her 
 friend's advice, felt the kindness of showing her the 
 mistake ft'ankly, and was grateful for it, — conscious in 
 her own strong, loving heart that it ivas better to live 
 and work for others than to dream and strive for her- 
 self alone. 
 
 Mrs. Spenser was both surprised and touched by the 
 girl's look, words, and manner, and her respect much 
 increased by the courage and good temper with which 
 she saw her lovely castle in the air vanish like smoke, 
 leaving the hard reality looking harder than ever, after 
 this little flight into the fairy regions of romance. 
 
 She talked long with the girls, and gave them the 
 counsel all eager young people need, yet are very slow 
 to accept till experience teaches them its worth. As 
 the friend of raany successful literary people, Mrs. 
 Spenser was constantly receiving the confidences of 
 unfledged scribblers, each of whom was sure that he or 
 she had something valuable to add to the world's liter- 
 ature. Her advice was always the same, " Work and 
 wait ; " and only now and then was a young poet or au- 
 thor found enough in earnest to do both, and thereby 
 prove to themselves and others either that they did 
 possess power, or did not, and so settle the question 
 forever. " First live, then write," proved a quietus for 
 many, and " Do the duty that lies nearest " satisfied 
 the more sincere that they could be happy without 
 fame. So, thanks to this wise and kindly woman, a 
 large number of worthy youths and maidens ceased 
 dreaming and fell to work, and the world was spared 
 reams of feeble verse and third-rate romances. 
 
248 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 After that night Becky spent fewer spare hours m 
 her nest, and more m reading with Emily, who lent 
 her books and helped her to understand them, — both 
 much assisted by Mrs. Spenser, who marked passages, 
 suggested authors, and explained whatever puzzled 
 them. Very happy bits of time were these, and very 
 precious to both, as Emily learned to see and appre- 
 ciate the humbler, harder side of life, and Becky got 
 delightful glimpses into the beautiful world of art, 
 poetry, and truth, which gave her better food for heart 
 and brain than sentimental musings or blind efforts to 
 satisfy the hunger of her nature with verse-writing. 
 
 Their favorite places were in the big barn, on the 
 front porch, or by the spring. This last was Emily's 
 schoolroom, and she both taught and learned many 
 useful lessons there. 
 
 One day as Becky came to rest a few minutes and 
 shell peas, Emily put down her book to help ; and as 
 the pods flew, she said, nodding toward the delicate 
 ferns that grew thickly all about the trough, the rock, 
 and the grassy bank, — 
 
 ** We have the'se in our greenhouse, but I never saw 
 them growing wild before, and I don't find them any- 
 where up here. How did you get such beauties, and 
 make them do so well 1 " 
 
 " Oh, they grow in nooks on the mountain hidden 
 under the taller ferns, and in sly corners. But they 
 don't grow like these, and die soon unless transplanted 
 and taken good care of. They always make me think 
 of you, — so graceful and delicate, and just fit to live 
 with tea-roses in a hot-house, and go to balls in beau- 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUKEL AND MAIDENHAIR. 249 
 
 fciful ladies' &okays," answered Becky, smiling at her 
 new friend, always so dainty, and still so delicate in 
 spite of the summer's rustication. 
 
 " Thank you ! I suppose I shall never he very strong 
 or ahle to do much ; so I am rather like a fern, and do 
 live in a conservatory all winter, as I can't go out a 
 great deal. An idle thing, Becky ! " and Emily sighed, 
 for she was horn frail, and even her tenderly guarded 
 life could not give her the vigor of other girls. But 
 the sigh changed to a smile as she added, — 
 
 " If I am like the fern, you are like your own laurel, 
 — strong, rosy, and able to grow anywhere. I want to 
 carry a few roots home, and see if they won't grow in 
 my garden. Then you will have me, and I you. I 
 only hope your plant will do as well as mine does 
 
 here." 
 
 " It won't ! ever so many folks have taken roots 
 away, but they never thrive in gardens as they do on 
 the hills where they belong. So I tell 'em to leave 
 the dear bushes alone, and come up here and enjoy 
 'em in their own place. You might keep a plant of it 
 in your hot-house, and it would blow I dare say ; but 
 it would never be half so lovely as my acres of them, 
 and I guess it would only make you sad, seeing it so 
 far from home, and pale and pining," answered Becky, 
 with her eyes on the green slopes where the mouutam- 
 laurel braved the wintry snow, and came out fresh and 
 early in the spring. 
 
 " Then I '11 let it alone till I come next summer. 
 But don't you take any of the fern into the house in 
 the cold weather 1 1 should think it would grow in 
 
250 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 your sunny windows," said Emily, pleased by the fancy 
 that it resembled herself. 
 
 " I tried it, but it needs a damp place, and our cold 
 nights kill it. No, it won't grow in our old house ; but 
 I cover it with leaves, and the little green sprouts come 
 up as hearty as can be out here. The shade, the 
 spring, the shelter of the rock, keep it alive, you see, 
 so it 's no use trying to move it." 
 
 Both sat silent for a few minutes, as their hands 
 moved briskly and they thought of their different lots. 
 An inquisitive ray of sunshine peeped in at them, 
 touching Beoky's hair till it shoue like red gold. The 
 same ray dazzled Emily's eyes ; she put up her hand 
 to pull her hat-brim lower, and touched the little 
 curls on her forehead. This recalled her pet grievance, 
 and made her say impatiently, as she pushed the thick 
 short locks under her net, — 
 
 " My hair is such a plague ! I don't know what I 
 am to do when I go into society by-and-by. This crop 
 is so unbecoming, and I can't match my hair anywhere, 
 it is such a peculiar shade of golden-auburn." 
 
 " It 's a pretty color, and I think the curls much 
 nicer than a boughten switch," said Becky, quite un- 
 conscious that her own luxuriant locks were of the true 
 Titian red, and would be much admired by artistic 
 eyes. 
 
 " I don't ! I shall send to Paris to match it, and 
 then wear a braid round my head as you do sometimes. 
 I suppose it will cost a fortune, but I wonH have a 
 strong-minded crop. A friend of mine got a lovely 
 golden switch for fifty dollars." 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUKEL AND MAIDENHAIR. 251 
 
 " My patience ! do folks pay like that for false hair ] " 
 asked Becky, amazed. 
 
 " Yes, indeed. Wliite hair costs a hundred, I be- 
 lieve, if it is long. Why, you could get ever so much 
 for yours if you ever wanted to sell it. I '11 take 
 part of it, for in a little while mine will be as dark, 
 and I 'd like to wear your hair, Becky." 
 
 " Don't believe Mother would let me. She is very 
 proud of our red heads. If I ever do cut it, you shall 
 have some. I may be hard up and glad to sell it per- 
 haps. My sakes ! I smell the cake burning ! " and off 
 flew Becky to forget the chat in her work. 
 
 Emily did not forget it, and hoped Becky would be 
 tempted, for she really coveted one of the fine braids, 
 but felt shy about asking the poor girl for even a part 
 of her one beauty. 
 
 So July and August passed pleasantly and profita- 
 bly to both girls, and in September they were to part. 
 No more was said about poetry ; and Emily soon be- 
 came so interested in the busy, practical life about 
 her that her own high-flown dreams were quite forgot- 
 ten, and she learned to enjoy the sweet prose of daily 
 labor. 
 
 One breezy afternoon as she and her mother sat 
 resting from a stroll on the way-side bank among the 
 golden-rod and asters, they saw Becky coming up the 
 long hill with a basket on her arm. She walked slowly, 
 as if lost iu thought, yet never missed pushing aside 
 with a decided gesture of her foot every stone that lay 
 in her way. There were many iu that rocky path, but 
 Becky left it smoother as she climbed, and paused now 
 
252 A GAELAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 and then to send some especially sharp or large one 
 spinning into the grassy ditch beside the road. 
 
 " Is n't she a curious girl, Mamma 1 so tired after 
 her long walk to town, yet so anxious not to leave a 
 stone in the way," said Emily, as they watched her 
 slow approach. 
 
 "A very interesting one to me, dear, because under 
 that humble exterior lies a fine, strong character. It is 
 like Becky to clear her way, even up a dusty hill where 
 the first rain will wash out many more stones. Let 
 us ask her why she does it. I 've observed the habit 
 before, and always meant to ask," replied Mrs. Spenser. 
 
 " Here we are ! Come aiid rest a minute, Becky, 
 and tell us if you mend roads as well as ever so many 
 other things ; " called Emily, beckoning with a smile, 
 as the girl looked up and saw them. 
 
 " Oh, it's a trick of mine ; I caught it of Father when 
 I was a little thing, and do it without knowing it half 
 the time," said Becky, sinking down upon a mossy 
 rock, as if rest were welcome. 
 
 " Why did he do it '? " asked Emily, who knew that 
 her friend loved to talk of her father. 
 
 " Well, it 's a family failing I guess, for his father 
 did the same, only he began with his farm and let the 
 roads alone. The land used to be pretty much all 
 rocks up here, you know, and farmers had to clear the 
 ground if they wanted crops. It was a hard fight, and 
 took a sight of time and patience to grub out roots 
 and blast rocks and pick up stones that seemed to 
 grow faster than anything else. But they kept on, and 
 now see ! " 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUREL AND MAIDENHAIR. 253 
 
 As she spoke, Becky pointed proudly to the wide, 
 smooth fields lying before them, newly shorn of 
 grass or grain, waving with corn, or rich in garden 
 crops ripening for winter stores. Here and there were 
 rocky strips unreclaimed, as if to show what had been 
 done ; and massive stone walls surrounded pasture, 
 field, and garden. 
 
 " A good lesson in patience and perseverance, my 
 dear, and does great honor to the men who made 
 the wilderness blossom like the rose," said Mrs. 
 Spenser. 
 
 " Then you can't wonder that they loved it and we 
 want to keep it. I guess it would break Mother's 
 heart to sell this place, and we are all working as hard 
 as ever we can to pay off the mortgage. Then we '11 
 be just the happiest family in New Hampshire," said 
 Becky, fondly surveying the old farm-house, the rocky 
 hill, and the precious fields won from the forest. 
 
 " You never need fear to lose it ; we will see to that 
 if you will let us," began Mrs. Spenser, who was both 
 a rich and a generous woman. 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! but we won't need help I guess ; 
 and if we should, Mrs. Taylor made ns promise to 
 come to her," cried Becky. "She found us just in 
 our hardest time, and wanted to fix things then ; but 
 we are proud in our way, and Mother said she 'd 
 rather work it off if she could. Then what did that 
 dear lady do but talk to the folks round here, and 
 show 'em how a branch railroad down to Peeksville 
 would increase the value of the land, and how good 
 this valley would be for strawberries and asparagus 
 
254 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 and garden truck if we could only get it to market. 
 Some of the rich men took up the plan, and we hope 
 it will be done this fall. It will be the making of us, 
 for our land is first-rate for small crops, and the chil- 
 dren can help at that, and with a deepot close by it 
 would be such easy work. That 's what I call helping 
 folks to help themselves. Won't it be grand 1 " 
 
 Becky looked so enthusiastic that Emily could not 
 remain uninterested, though market-gardening did not 
 sound very romantic. 
 
 " I hope it will come, and next year we shall see you 
 all hard at it. What a good woman Mrs. Taylor is ! " 
 
 " Ain't she % and the sad part of it is, she can't do 
 and enjoy all she wants to, because her health is so 
 poor. She was a country girl, you know, and went to 
 work in the city as waiter in a boarding-house. A 
 rich man fell in love with her and married her, and 
 she took care of him for years, and he left her all his 
 money. She was quite broken down, but she wanted 
 to make his name loved and honored after his death, 
 as he had n't done any good while he lived ; so she 
 gives away heaps, and is never tired of helping poor 
 folks and doing all sorts of grand things to make the 
 world better. I call that splendid ! " 
 
 "So do I, yet it is only what you are doing in a 
 small way, Becky," said Mrs. Spenser, as the girl 
 paused out of breath. " Mrs. Taylor clears the stones 
 out of people's paths, making their road easier to 
 climb than hers has been, and leaving behind her 
 fruitful fields for others to reap. This is a better 
 work than making verses, for it is the real poetry of 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUREL AND MAIDENHAIR. 255 
 
 life, and brings to those who give themselves to it, no 
 matter in what humble ways, something sweeter than 
 fame and more enduring than fortune." 
 
 " So it does ! I see that now, and know why we 
 love Father as we do, and want to keep what he 
 worked so hard to give us. He used to say every 
 stone cleared away was just so much help to the 
 boys ; and he used to tell me his plans as I trotted 
 after him round the farm, helping all I could, being 
 the oldest, and like him, he said." 
 
 Becky paused with full eyes, for not even to these 
 good friends could she ever tell the shifts and strug- 
 gles in which she had bravely borne her part during 
 the long hard years that had wrested the little home- 
 stead from the stony-hearted hills. 
 
 The musical chime of a distant clock reminded her 
 that supper time was near, and she sprang up as if 
 much refreshed by this pleasant rest by the way-side. 
 As she pulled out her handkerchief, a little roll of 
 pale blue ribbon fell from her pocket, and Emily 
 caught it up, exclaiming mischievously, " Are you 
 going to make yourself fine next Sunday, when Moses 
 Fennel calls, Becky 1, " 
 
 The girl laiighed and blushed as she said, carefully 
 folding up the ribbon, — 
 
 " I 'm going to do something with it that I like a 
 sight better than that. Poor Moses won't come any 
 more, I guess. I 'm not going to leave Mother till 
 the gii'ls can take my place, and only then to teach, 
 if I can get a good school somewhere near." 
 
 " We shall see ! " and Emily nodded wisely. 
 
256 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 " We shall ! " and Becky nodded decidedly, as she 
 trudged on up the steep hill beside Mrs. Spenser, 
 while Emily walked slowly behind, poking every stone 
 she saw into the grass, unmindful of the detriment to 
 her delicate shoes, being absorbed in a new and 
 charming idea of trying to follow Mrs. Taylor's ex- 
 ample in a small way. 
 
 A week later the last night came, and just as they 
 were parting for bed, in rushed one of the boys with 
 the exciting news that the railroad surveyors were in 
 town, the folks talking about the grand enterprise, 
 and the fortune of the place made forever. 
 
 Great was the rejoicing in the old farm-house ; the 
 boys cheered, the little girls danced, the two mothers 
 dropped a happy tear as they shook each other's hands, 
 and Emily embraced Becky, tenderly exclaiming, — 
 " There, you dear thing, is a great stone shoved out 
 of your way, and a clear road to fortune at last ; for I 
 shall tell all my friends to buy your butter and eggs, 
 and fruit and pigs, and everything you send to market 
 on that blessed railroad." 
 
 " A keg of our best winter butter is going by stage 
 express to-morrow anyway ; and when our apples come, 
 we shan't need a railroad to get 'em to you, my darling 
 dear," answered Becky, holding the delicate girl in her 
 arms with a look and gesture half sisterly, half moth- 
 erly, wholly fond and grateful. 
 
 When Emily got to her room, she found that butter 
 and apples were not all the humble souvenii's offered 
 in return for many comfortable gifts to the whole 
 family. 
 
MOUNTAIN-LAUREL AND MAIDENHAIR. 257 
 
 Ou the table, in a pretty birch-bark cover, lay sev- 
 eral of Becky's best poems neatly copied, as Emily 
 had expressed a wish to keep them ; and round the 
 rustic volume, like a ring of red gold, lay a great 
 braid of Becky's hair, tied with the pale blue ribbon 
 she had walked four miles to buy, that her present 
 might look its best. 
 
 Of course there were more embraces and kisses, 
 and thanks and loving words, before Emily at last 
 lulled herself to sleep planning a Christmas box, 
 which should supply every wish and want of the 
 entire family if she could find them out. 
 
 Next morning they parted ; but these were not 
 mere summer friends, and they did not lose sight of 
 one another, though their ways lay far apart. Emily 
 had found a new luxury to bring more pleasure into 
 life, a new medicine to strengthen soul and body; and 
 in helping others, she helped herself wonderfully. 
 
 Becky went steadily on her dutiful way, till the 
 homestead was free, the lads able to work the farm 
 alone, the girls old enough to fill her place, and the 
 good mother willing to rest at last among her chil- 
 dren. Then Becky gave herself to teaching, — a noble 
 task, for which she was well fitted, and in which she 
 found both profit and pleasure, as she led her flock 
 along the paths from which she removed the stum- 
 bling-blocks for their feet, as well as for her own. She 
 put her poetiy into her life, and made of it " a grand 
 sweet song" in which beauty and duty rhymed so 
 well that the country girl became a more useful, be- 
 
 (446) 17 
 
258 A GARLAND FOR GIRLS. 
 
 loved, and honored woman than if she had tried to sing 
 for fame which never satisfies. 
 
 So each symbolical plant stood in its own place, 
 and lived its appointed life. The delicate fern grew 
 in the conservatory among tea-roses and camelias, 
 adding grace to every bouquet of which it formed a 
 part, whether it faded in a ball-room, or was carefully 
 cherished by some poor invalid's bed-side, — a frail 
 thing, yet with tenacious roots and strong stem, nour- 
 ished by memories of the rocky nook where it had 
 learned its lesson so well. The mountain-laurel clung 
 to the bleak hillside, careless of wintry wind and 
 snow, as its sturdy branches spread year by year, with 
 its evergreen leaves for Christmas cheer, its rosy flow- 
 ers for spring-time, its fresh beauty free to all as it 
 clothed the wild valley with a charm that made a 
 little poem of the lovely spot where the pines whis- 
 pered, woodbirds sang, and the hidden brook told the 
 sweet message it brought from the mountain-top where 
 it was born. 
 
BLACKIE & SON'S 
 BOOKS FOE YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 "As publishers of books of adventure for boys Messrs. Blackie & Son have no 
 superiors."— .Sf. James's Gazette. 
 
 " Tliese books are written pilniarily for boys, but no man — or woman— can fail 
 to be pleased or interested by their perusal." — Vanity Fair. 
 
 " Messrs. Blackie and Son maintain their position in the front rank of the 
 firms issuing gift Ijooks, not only by the care lavished upon the material portion 
 of the work, but also by the quality of the stories themselves. "~i1/or?u'Mrjf Post. 
 
 BY G. A. HENTY. 
 
 Wulf the Saxon: a story of the Norman Conquest. By 
 (j. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by Ealph Peacock. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 " The story shows Mr. Henty at his heat."— Daily Chronicle. 
 
 " Wulf the Saxon is second to none of Mr. Henty's historical tales, and we may 
 safely say that a boy may learn from it more genuine history than he will from 
 many a tedious tome. The points of the Saxon character are hit off very happily, 
 and the life of the period is ably reconstructed." — The Spectator. 
 
 " W'nU wins his way to iKjiiour in those stirring times by a display of courage 
 and endurance that will set Ijoys in a glow as they read. The description of the 
 tlglit at Stamford and that of the battle of Hastings are in Mr. Henty's most 
 vigorous style."— ,S'rtf!()-df(j/ Revieiu. 
 
 When London Burned : a story of Eestoration Times and 
 the Great Fire. By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations 
 by J. FiNNEMORE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "One of the best stories Mr. Henty has written."— TAe Times. 
 
 " .A. handsome volume, and boys will rejoice to possess it. . . . May be 
 ranged amongst Mr, Henty's best It will, undoubtedly, become a standard 
 work." — T/(e liecord. 
 
 " Xo boy needs to have any story of Henty's recommended to him, and parents 
 who do not know and buy him for their boys should be ashamed of themselves. 
 TlKjse to whom he is yet unknown could nut make a lietter beginning than with 
 When London Burned," —British. Weckhj. 
 
 Beric the Briton: A story of tlie Roman Invasion. By 
 
 G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by W. Parkinson. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 " We are not aware that any one has given us r|uite so vigorous a picture of 
 liiitaia in the days of the Roman conquest. Mr. Henty has done his utmost to 
 make an impressive pictiu-e of the haughty Roman character, with its indomitable 
 courage, sternness, and discipline, lieric is good all through." — Spectator. 
 [Ill A 
 
2 BLACKIE cfc SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BY G. A. HENTY. 
 
 "Mr. Henty is one of the best of story- tellers for young people."— Spectator. 
 
 Through the Sikh War: A Tale of the Conquest of the 
 
 Punjaub. By G-. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by Hal 
 
 HuKST, and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 " The picture of the Punjaub during its last few years of independence, the 
 description of the battles on tlie Sutlej, and the portraiture generally of native 
 character, seem admirably true. ... On the whole, we have never read a more 
 vivid and faithful narrative of military adventure in India." — The Academy. 
 
 With Wolfe in Canada: Or, The Winning of a Continent. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "A model of what a boys' story-book should be. Mr. Henty has a great power 
 of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as no pains are spared by 
 him to ensure accuracy in historic details, his books supply useful aids to study 
 as well as amusement."— Sc/woi Guardian. 
 
 The Dash for Khartoum : A Tale of the Nile Expedition, 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With 10 page Illustrations by J. Schonberg and 
 
 J. Nash, and 4 Plans. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "It is literally true that the narrative never flags a moment; for the incidents 
 
 which fall to be recorded after the dash for Khartoum has been made and failed 
 
 are quite as interesting as those which precede it."— Academy. 
 
 The Lion of St. Mark: A Tale of Venice in the Fourteenth 
 
 Century. By G. A. Henty. With 10 page Illustrations by Gordon 
 
 Browne. Crown Bvo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 " Every boy should read The Lion of St. Mark. jNIr. Henty has never produced 
 
 any story more delightful, more wholesome, or more vivacious. From first to 
 
 last it will be read with keen enjoyment."— TAe Saturday Review. 
 
 By Eng-land'S Aid : The Freeing of the Netherlands (1585- 
 1604). By G. A. Henty. With 10 page Illustrations by Alfred 
 Pearse, and 4 Maps. Crown Bvo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 "The story is told with great animation, and the liistorical material is most 
 
 effectively combined with a most excellent plot."— Saturday Review. 
 
 With Lee in Virginia: A story of the American Civil 
 
 War. By G. A. Henty. With 10 page Illustrations by Gordon 
 
 Browne, and 6 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, &s. 
 
 " The story is a capital one and full of variety, and presents us with many 
 
 picturesque scenes of Southern life. Young Wingfleld, who is conscientious, 
 
 spirited, and ' hard as nails", would have been a man after the very heart of 
 
 Stonewall Jackson." — Times. 
 
 By Pike and Dyke: a Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Re- 
 public. By G. A. Henty. With 10 page Illustrations by Maynard 
 Brown, and 4 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 "The mission of Ned to deliver letters from William the Silent to his adherents 
 
 at Brussels, the fight of the Good Venture with the Spnnish man-of-war, the battle 
 
 on the ice at Amsterdam, the siege of Haarlem, are all told with a vividness and 
 
 skill which are worthy of Mr. Henty at his best."— Academy. 
 
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BY G. A. HENTY. 
 
 'Surely Mr. Henty should understand boys' tastes better than any man living." 
 
 —The Times. 
 
 Reduced Illustration f I om 'St Bai tholomew s Eve 
 
 St. Bartholomew's Eve: a Tale of the Huguenot Wars. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With 12 page lUustrations by H. J. Draper, 
 
 and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "A really noble story, which adult readers will find to the full as satisfying as 
 the boys. Lucky boys! to have such a caterer as Mr. G. A. Henty." — Black and 
 White. 
 
 With Clive in India: Or, The Beginnings of an Empire. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Hlustrations by Gordon Browne. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "Among writers of stories of adventure for boys Mr. Henty stands in the very 
 first rank. Those who know something about India will be the most ready to 
 thank Mr. Henty for giving them this instructive volume to place in the hands 
 of their children." — Academy. 
 
4 BLACKIE dfc SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BY G. A. HENTY. 
 
 " Among writers of stories of adventure for boys Mr. Henty stands in the very 
 first T&nk."— Academy. 
 
 Under Drake's Flag": A Tale of the Spanish Main. By 
 G-. A. Henty. Illustrated by 12 page Pictures by G-ordon Browne. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "Tiiere is not a dull chapter, nor, indeed, a dull page in the book; but the 
 author has so carefully worked up his subject that the exciting deeds of his 
 heroes are never incongruous or Abaxin}."— Observe}: 
 
 Bonnie Prince Charlie: A Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden. 
 By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 " Konald, the hero, is very like the hero of Quentin Durward. The lad's 
 journey across France with his faithful attendant Malcolm, and his hairbreadth 
 escapes from the machinations of his father's enemies, make up as good a 
 narrative of the kind as we have ever read. For freshness of treatment and 
 variety of incident, Mr. Henty has here surpassed himself."— Sp^ctotor. 
 
 For the Temple: a Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. By 
 G. A. Henty. With 10 page Illustrations by S. J. Solomon, and 
 a Coloured Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 " Mr. Henty's graphic prose pictures of the hopeless Jewish resistance to Roman 
 sway adds another leaf to his record of the famous wars of the world. The book 
 is one of Mr. Henty's cleverest efforts."— Gi-aphic. 
 
 True to the Old Flag": A Tale of the American War of 
 Independence. By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by 
 Gordon Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British soldiers. The son 
 of an American loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the hostile red- 
 skins in that very Huron country which has been endeared to us l.iy the exploits 
 of Hawkeye and Chingachgook."— T/ic Times. 
 
 The Lion of the North : a Tale of Gustavus Adolphus and 
 the Wars of Religion. By G. A, Henty. With 12 page Pictures 
 by J. Schonberg. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "A praiseworthy attempt to interest British youth in the great deeds of the 
 Scotch Brigade in the wars of Gustavus Adolphus. Mackay, Hepburn, and Munro 
 live again in Mr. Henty's pages, as tliose deserve to live whose disciplined bands 
 formed really the germ of the modern British army." — Athenceum. 
 
 The Young Carthaginian: a story of the Times of 
 
 Hannibal. By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by C. J. 
 
 Staniland, R.I. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "The effect of an interesting story, well constructed and vividly told, is en- 
 hanced by the picturesque quality of the scenic background. From first to last 
 nothing stays the interest of the narrative. It bears us along as on a stream 
 whose current varies in direction, but never loses its force." —Saturday Review 
 
BLACKIE <t SON'S BOOKS FOR YOIIXG PEOPLE. 
 
 BY G. A. HENTY. 
 
 'Mr. Heuty is the kiug of story-tellers for hoys."Swonl and Trowel. 
 
 Reduced Illustration f rum Henty's "Redskin and Cow-boy". 
 
 Redskin and Cow-boy : a Tale of the Western Plains. By 
 G. A. Hentv. With 12 page Illustrations by Alfked Pearse. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 65. 
 
 " It has a good plot ; it abounds in action ; the scenes are equally sphited and 
 realistic' and we can only say we have read it with much pleasure from first to 
 last. The pictures of life on a cattle ranche are most graphically painted, as are 
 the manners of the reckless but jovial cow-boys." — Times. 
 
 In Freedom's Cause : A story of Wallace and Bruce. By 
 G. A. Hknty. With 12 page Illustrations by GoKDON Bkowne. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "Mr. Henty has broken new ground as an historical novelist. His tale of tlie 
 days of Wallace and Bruce is full of stirring action, and will commend itself tu 
 bovs. " — AtheiuKU)n,. 
 
6 BLACKIE i- SONS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BY G. A. HENTY. 
 
 " Mr. Henty is one of our most successful writers of liistorical tales." — Scotsman. 
 
 By Right of Conquest : Or, With Coitez in Mexico. By 
 
 G. A. Henty. With 10 page Illustrations by W. S. Stacey, and 
 
 2 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 " By Right of Conquest is tlie nearest approach to a perfectly successful histori- 
 cal tale that Mr. Henty has yet publisliect." — Academy. 
 
 In Greek Waters: a story of the Grecian War of Inde- 
 pendence (18-21-18'27). By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illus- 
 trations by W. S. Stacey', and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 
 olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "There are adventures of all kinds for the hero and liis friends, whose pluck 
 and ingenuity in e.\tricatinLC themselves from awkward fixes are always equal to 
 the occasion. It is an excellent story, and if the proportion of history is smaller 
 than usual, the whole result leaves nothing to be desired."— Joio-nai of Education. 
 
 Through the Fray: A story of the Luddlte Eiots. By 
 
 G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by H. M. Paget. Crown 
 
 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "Mr. Henty inspires a love and admiration for straightforwardness, truth, and 
 courage. This is one of the best of the many good books Mr. Henty has produced, 
 and deserves to be classed with his Facing Death." — Standard. 
 
 Captain Bayley'S Heir : a Tale of the Gold Fields of Cali- 
 fornia. By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Ilhisti-ations by H. M. 
 Paget. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 65. 
 
 "A Westminster boy who makes his way in the world by hard work, good 
 temper, and unfailing courage. The descriptions given of life are just what a 
 healthy intelligent lad should delight in."— St. James's Gazette. 
 
 In the Heart of the Rockies: a story of Adventure in 
 Colorado. By G. A. Henty. With 8 page Illustrations by G. C. 
 Hindley. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 " Few Christmas books will be more to the taste of the ingenuous )joy than In 
 the Heart of the Rockies." — Athenaum. 
 
 " Mr. Henty is seen here at his best as an artist in lightning fiction."— ^4cafie»i!/. 
 
 "The volume is one of the most graphic that we have seen from Mr. Henty's 
 hand, and it is fully illustrated. It is a book to read and to recommend to boys 
 and girls." — The Observer. 
 
 " A rousing story of adventure. Tlie heroes pass through a succession of 
 thrilling experiences; and, but for the comfortable conviction that it will all come 
 right in the end, the stoiy would be highly disquieting to nervous readers. Mr. 
 Henty has this time surpassed himself in getting his characters into and out of 
 tight places."— T/ie Queen. 
 
 One of the 28th : a Tale of Waterloo. By G. A. Henty. 
 
 With 8 page Illustrations by W. H, Overend, and 2 Maps. Crown 
 
 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 " Written with Homeric vigour and heroic inspiration. It is graphic, pictur- 
 esque, and dramatically effective . . . shows us Mr. Henty at his best and 
 brightest. The adventures will hold a boy of a winter's night enthralled as he 
 rushes through them with breathless interest 'from cover to cover'." — Observer. 
 
BLACKIE & SONS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BY G. A. HENTY. 
 
 " No more interesting boys' boolis are written than Mr. Henty's stories." — 
 
 Daily Chronicle. 
 
 The Cat of Bubastes: a story of Ancient Egypt. By 
 
 G-. A. Henty. With 8 page Illustrations by J. R. Wkguelin. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 " The story, from the critical moment of the Icilling of the sacred cat to the 
 perihms exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very skilfully constructed and 
 full of exciting adventures. It is admirably illustrated."— Saturday Review. 
 
 Maori and Settler : A story of the New Zealand War. By 
 G. A Henty. With 8 page Illustrations by Alfred Peaese, and 
 a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 "It is a book which all young people, but especially boys, will read with 
 
 avidity." — Athenceum. 
 
 " A first-rate book for boys, brimful of adventure, of humorous and interesting 
 conversation, and of vivid pictures of colonial liSe."— Schoolmaster. 
 
 St. George for Eng"land.: a Tale of Cressy and Poitiers. 
 
 By G-. A. Hentt. With 8 full-page Illustrations by G-oedon 
 
 Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 " A story of very great interest for boys. In his own forcible style the author 
 has endeavoured to show that determination and enthusiasm can accomplish mar- 
 vellous results; and tliat courage is generally accompanied by magnanimity and 
 gentleness." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 The Bravest of the Brave : With Peterborough in Spain. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Pictures by H. M. Paget. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 "Mr. Henty never loses sii;ht of the moral purpose of his work— to enforce the 
 doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and lovingkindness, as indispensable to the 
 making of an English gentleman. British lads will read The Braveat of the 
 Brave with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite sme." —Daily Telegraph. 
 
 For Name and Fame: Or, Through Afghan Passes. By 
 
 G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Illustrations by Goedon Beowne. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 "Not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of excitement of a 
 campaiiin, but, what is still more useful, an account of a territory and its inhabi- 
 tants which must for a lung time possess a supieme interest for Englishmen, as 
 being the key to our Indian Empire." — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 A Jacobite Exile: Being the Adventures of a Young English- 
 man in the Service of Charles XII. of Sweden. By G. A. Henty. 
 With 8 page Illustrations by Paul Hardy, and a Map. Crown 
 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 "Incident succeeds inci lent, and adventure is piled upon adventure, and at the 
 
 end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced l)reathless enjoyment 
 
 in a romantic story that must have taught him much at its close."— Army and 
 
 Navy Gazette. 
 
BLACKIE Jc SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BY G. A. HENTY. 
 
 "Ask for Henty, aud see that you get him." — Punch. 
 
 Condemned as a Nihilist : a story of Escape from Siberia. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With 8 page Illustrations by Walter Paget. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 "The best of this year's Henty. His narrative is more interesting than many 
 of the tales with which the public is familiar, of escape from Siberia. Despite 
 their superior claim to authenticity these tales are without doubt no less fic- 
 titious than Mr. Henty 's, and he beats them hollow in the matter of sensations." 
 — National Observer. 
 
 Orange and Green: a Tale of the Boyue and Limerick, 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With 8 full -page Illustrations by Gordon 
 
 Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 "The narrative is free from the vice of prejudice, and ripples witli life as 
 vivacious as if what is being described were really passing before the eye. . . . 
 Should 1)0 in the hands of every young studeut of Irish history."— Belfast Neivs. 
 
 Held Fast for Eng-land: A Tale of the Siege of Gibraltar. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With 8 page Illustrations by Gordon Browne, 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 "Among them we would place first in interest aud wholesome educational 
 value the story of the siege of Gibraltar. . . . There is no cessation of exciting 
 incident throughout the story."— Athenceuin. 
 
 In the Reign of Terror : The Adveutures of a Weatmiuster 
 Boy. By G. A. Henty. With 8 full -page Illustrations by J. 
 Schonberg. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 " Harry Sand\vitli, the Westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat Mr. Heuty's 
 
 record. His adventures will delight boys by the audacity aud peril they depict. 
 
 The story is one of Mr. Henty 's best." — Saturday Review. 
 
 By Sheer Pluck; A Tale of the Ashauti War. By G. A. 
 
 Henty. With S full-page Pictures by Gordon Browne. Crown 
 
 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 "Morally, the book is everything that could be desired, setting before tlie boys 
 a bright and bracing ideal of the English gentlemau." — Christian Leader. 
 
 The Dragon and the Raven; Or, The Days of King 
 
 Alfred. By G. A. Henty. With 8 page Illustrations by C. J. 
 
 Staniland, R.I. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 "A story that may justly be styled remarkable. Boys, in reading it, will be 
 surprised to find how Alfred persevered, through years of bloodshed and times 
 of peace, to rescue his people from the thraldom of the Danes. We hope the 
 book will soon be widely known in all our schools." — Schoolmaster. 
 
 A Final Reckoning; A Tale of Bush Life in Australia. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With 8 page Illustrations by W. B. Wollkn. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 " All boys will read this story witli eager and unfl.igging interest. The episodes 
 are in Mr. Heuty's very best vein— graphic, exciting, realistic; and, as in all Mr, 
 Heuty's books, the tendency is to the formation of an honourable, manly, and 
 even heroic character,"— £u?ni?ifir7iam Post. 
 
BLACKIE i- SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BY G. A. HENTY. 
 
 " Mr. Henty's books are always alive with moving inculent."-- Review of Rcoicwu. 
 
 Facing" Death: Or, Tlie Hero of the Vaugbau Pit. A Tale of 
 
 the Coal Mines. By 
 
 G. A. Henty. With 
 
 8 page Pictures by 
 
 GoKDON Browne. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth 
 
 elegant, olivine edges, 
 
 5s. 
 
 "If auy fatlier, godfather, 
 clergyniau, or schoolmaster is 
 ou the look-out for a good 
 book to give as a present to a 
 lioy who is worth his salt, this 
 is the book we would recom- 
 mend." — Standard. 
 
 A Chapter of Ad- 
 ventures : Or, 
 
 Through the Bom- 
 bardment of Alex- 
 andria. By C A. 
 Henty. With 6 page 
 Illustrations by W. 
 H. OvEEEND. Crown 
 Svo, cloth elegant, 
 3s. 6c?. 
 
 "Jack Robsou and his two 
 companions have their fill of 
 excitement, and their chapter 
 of adventures is so brisk and 
 entertaining we could liave 
 wished it longer than it is." — 
 Saturday Revieiv. 
 
 Reduced 1 llustrationfroiii 
 Miss Follett " 
 
 ' The Clever 
 
 Two Thousand Years Ag-O: Or, The Aavei)tiue.s of a Roman 
 
 Boy. By Professor A. J. Church. With 12 page Illustrations by 
 
 Adrien Marie. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "Adventures well wortli the telling. The book is extremely entertaining as 
 well as useful, and there is a wonderful freshness in tlie Roman scenes and 
 characters." — The Times. 
 
 The Clever Miss Follett. By j. K. H. Denny. With 
 
 12 page Illustrations by Gertrude D. Hammond. Crown Svo, 
 
 cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "Just the book to give to girls, who will delight both in the letterpress and 
 the illustrations Miiss Hammond has never done better v/ork."— Review oj 
 Reviews. 
 
10 BLACKIE <fc SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BY ROSA MULHOLLAND. 
 
 Banshee Castle. By Eosa Mulholland. with 12 page 
 
 Illustrations by John H. Bacon. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 
 olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "One of the most fascinating of Miss Eosa Mulholland s many fascinating 
 stories. . . The charm of the tale lies in the telling of it. The three 
 
 heroines are admirably drawn characters." — Athencemn. 
 
 "Is told with grace, and brightened by a knowledge of Irish folk-lore, making 
 it a perfect present for a girl In her teens." — Truth. 
 
 "The girls who do not like Banshee Castle must indeed be difficult to please. 
 It is one of those charming books that should set young girls building sunny 
 castles in the air of which the bright memory will last for many a day." 
 — National Observer. 
 
 Giannetta : A Girl's story of Herself. By Eosa Mulholland. 
 
 With 8 page Illustrations by LocKHART BoGLE. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 
 elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 "Giannetta is a true heroine — warm-hearted, self-sacrificing, and, as l11 good 
 women nowadays are, largely touched with the enthusiasm of humanity. One 
 of the most attractive gift-books of the season." — The Academy. 
 
 A Fair Claimant: Being a Story for Girls. By Frances 
 
 Armstrong. With 8 page Illustrations by Gertrude D. Hammond. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 " As a gift-book for big girls it is among the best new books of the kind. The 
 story is interesting and natural, from first to last." — Westminster Gazette. 
 
 The Heiress of Courtleroy. By Anne Beale. With 8 
 
 page Illustrations by T. C. H. Castle. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 
 
 olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 "We can speak highly of the grace with which Miss Beale relates how the 
 young 'Heiress of Courtleroy' had such good influence over her uncle as to win 
 him from his intensely selfish ways."— Guardian. 
 
 The White Conquerors of Mexico : A Tale of Toitec and 
 
 Aztec. By Kirk Munroe. With 8 page Illustrations by W. S. 
 
 Stacey. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 "Mr. Munroe gives most vivid pictures of the religious and civil polity of the 
 Aztecs, and of everyday life, as he imagines it, in the streets and market-places 
 of the magnificent capital of Montezuma." — The Times. 
 
 Highways and High Seas: Cyril Barley's Adventures on 
 
 both. By F. Frankfort Moore. With 8 page Illustrations by 
 
 Alfred Pearse. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 "This is one of the best stories Mr. Moore has written, perhaps the very best. 
 The exciting adventures are sure to attract boys."— Spectator. 
 
BLACK IE & SONS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 11 
 
 BY GEORGE MAC DONALD. 
 
 A ROUg"!! Shaking". By George Mac Donald. With 
 
 12 page Illustrations by W. Parkinson. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 
 
 olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 • 'One of the very best 
 books for boys that has been 
 written. It is full of mate- 
 rial peculiarly well adapted 
 for the young, containing 
 in a marked degree the 
 elements of all that is neces- 
 sary to make up a perfect 
 boys' book. " — Teachers' Aid. 
 
 At the Back of 
 the North 
 
 Wind. By Geo. 
 Mac Donald. With 
 75 Illustrations by 
 Arthur Hughes. 
 Crown 8 vo, cloth ele- 
 gant, olivine edges, 
 5s. 
 
 "The story is thoroughly 
 original, full of fancy and 
 pathos. . . . We stand 
 with one foot in fairyland 
 and one on common earth. " 
 —The Times. 
 
 Ranald Banner- 
 man's Boy- 
 hood. By Geo. 
 Mac Donald. With 
 36 Illustrations by 
 
 Arthur Hughes. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, oKvine edges, 5s. 
 "The sympathy with boy-nature in Ranald Bannennan's Boyhood is perfect. 
 
 It is a beautiful picture of childhood, teaching by its impressions and suggestions 
 
 all noble ihingi."— British Quarterly Review. 
 
 The Princess and the Goblin. By George Mac Donald. 
 
 With 32 Illustrations. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6c?. 
 
 "Little of what is written for children has the lightness of touch and play of 
 
 fancy which are characteristic of George Mac Donald's fairy tales. Mr. Arthur 
 
 Hughes's illustrations are all that illustrations should he."— Manchester Guardian. 
 
 The Princess and Curdie. By George Mac Donald. 
 With 8 page Illustrations. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. 
 " There is the finest and rarest genius in this brilliant story. Upgrown people 
 would do wisely occasionally to lay aside their newspapers and magazines to 
 spend an hour with Curdie and the Princess. "—SAe#e2d Independent. 
 
 Reduced Illustration from "A Rough Shaking' 
 
12 BLACKIE S SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BY HARRY COLLINGWOOD. 
 
 The Pirate Island: A story of the South Pacilic. By 
 
 Harry Colling wood. With 8 page Pictures by C. J. Staniland 
 
 and J. K. Wells. Grown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 " A capital story of the sea ; indeed in our opinion the author is superior in some 
 respects as a marine novelist to the better known Mr. Clark Russell."— T/ie Timc& 
 
 The Log" of the "Flying" Fish": A story of Aerial and 
 
 Submarine Adventure. By Harry Collingwood. With 6 page 
 
 Illustrations by Gordon Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. Qd. 
 
 "The Fbjing Fish actually surpasses all Jules Verne's creations; with incred- 
 ible speed she flies through the air, skims over the surface of the water, and darts 
 along the ocean bed. We strongly recommend our school-boy friends to possess 
 themselves of her log." — Athenmum. 
 
 For other Books by Harry Collingwood, see pages 21 and 22. 
 
 BY GEORGE MANVILLLE FENN. 
 
 " Mr. Fenn stands in the foremost rank of writers in this department." — Daily 
 Newn. 
 
 Quicksilver: Or, a Boy with no Skid to liis Wheel. By 
 
 George Manville Fenn. With 10 page Illustrations by Frank 
 
 Dadd. Crowu 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, Qs. 
 
 " Quicksilver is little short of an inspiration. In it that prince of stury-writers 
 for boys — George Manville Fenn— has surpassed himself. It is an ideal book for 
 a boy's library."— Pracf/caZ Teacher. 
 
 Dick O' the Fens : a Romance of the Great East Swamp. By 
 
 G. Manville Fenn. With 12 page Illustrations by Frank Dadu. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 ' ' We conscientiously believe that boys will find it capital reading. It is full 
 of incident and mystery, and the mystery is kept up to the last moment. It is 
 rich in effective local colouring; and it lias a historical interest." — Times. 
 
 Devon Boys : A Tale of the North Shore. By G. Manville 
 
 Fenn. With 12 page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. Crown 
 
 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "An admirable story, as remarkable for the individuality of its young heroes 
 as for the excellent descriptions of coast scenery and life in North Devon. It is 
 one of the best books we have seen this season." — Athenceum. 
 
 The Golden Mag"net : A Tale of the Laud of the lucas. By 
 
 G. Manville Fenn. Illustrated by 12 page Pictures by Gordon 
 
 Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 "There could be no more welcome present for a boy. There is not a dull page 
 in the book, and many will be read with breathless interest. 'The Golden Mag- 
 net' is, of course, the same one that attracted Raleigh and the heroes of West- 
 ward Ho ! "—Journal of Education. 
 
BLACKIE ife SONS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 13 
 
 BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. 
 
 " No one can find his way to the hearts of lads more readily than Mr. Fenn." — 
 Nottingham Guardian. 
 
 In the King's Name: Or, The CVuise of the Kestrel. By 
 
 (t. Manville Fenn. Illustrated by 12 page Pictures by C4ordon 
 
 Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
 
 " The best of all Mr. Fenn's productions in this fiekl. It has the great quality 
 of always 'moving on', adventure following adventure in constant succession." — 
 Daily News. 
 
 Nat the Naturalist: a Boy's Adventures in the Eastern 
 
 Seas. By G. Manville Fenn. With 8 page Pictures. Crown Svo, 
 
 cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 "This sort of book encourages independence of character, develops resource, 
 and teaches a lioy to keep his eyes opex) ." — Sattirday Revieui 
 
 Bunyip Land: The story of a Wild Journey in New Guinen. 
 
 By G. INIanville Fenn. With 6 page Illustrations by Gordon 
 
 Browne. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 4s. 
 " Mr. Fenn deserves the thanks of everybody for Bunyip Land, and we may ven- 
 ture to promise that a quiet week may l)e reckoned on whilst the youngsters have 
 such fascinating literature provided for their evenings' amusement."— .Sppc^rt^o?'. 
 
 BrOWnsmith'S Boy. By CI. Manville Fenn. With 6 page 
 Illustrations. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d. 
 " Jlr. Fenn's books are among the best, if not altogether the best, of the stories 
 for boys. Mr. Fenn is at his best in Brownsmith's Boy."— Pictorial World. 
 
 %* For other Books by G. Manville Fenn, see pages 21 and 22. 
 
 BY ASCOTT R. HOPE. 
 
 Young" Travellers' Tales. By Ascott e. Hope. With 
 
 6 Illustrations by H. J. Draper. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 8s. 6d. 
 
 "Possess a high value for instruction as well as for entertainment. His quiet, 
 level humour bubljles up on every page."— Daily Chronicle. 
 
 " Excitement and cheerful enjoyment run through the hook." — Bookman. 
 
 "Maybe specially commended as stories of attractive power. This book is 
 certain to become a first favourite." — Dundee Advertiser. 
 
 "A very amusing and interesting hook. Boys are sure to like it— as we do." — 
 Kdncational Hevieiv. 
 
 The Seven Wise Scholars. By Ascott r. Hope. Witii 
 
 nearly 100 Illustrations by Gordon Browne. Cloth elegant, 5,1. 
 "As full of fun as a volume of Punch; with illustrations, more laughter- 
 provoking than most we have seen since Leech died." — Sheffield lndcpende7it. 
 
 Stories of Old Renown: Tales of Knights and Heroes. 
 
 By Ascott R. Hope. With 100 Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. ChI. 
 
 " A really fascinating book worthy of its telling title. There is, we venture to 
 say, not a dull page in the book, not a story which will not bear a second read- 
 ing."— OMnrdi'an. 
 
14 BLACKIE <fe SONS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 The Universe: Or The infinitely Great and the infinitely Little. 
 A Sketch of Contrasts in Creation, and Marvels revealed and 
 explained by Natural Science. By F. A. Pouchet, m.D. With 
 272 Engravings on wood, of which 55 are full-page size, and a 
 Coloured Frontispiece. Eleventh Edition, medium 8vo, cloth ele- 
 gant, gilt edges, 7s. &d.; also morocco antique, 16s. 
 
 " We can honestly commend Professor Pouchet's book, which is admirably, as 
 it is copidusly illustrated." — The Times. 
 
 "Scarcely any book in French or in English is so likely to stimulate in the 
 young an interest in the physical phenomena." — Fortnightly Revieiv. 
 
 BY ROBERT LEIGHTON. 
 
 Olaf the Glorious. By Egbert Leighton. With 8 page 
 Illustrations by Ralph Peacock, and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 "Is as good as anything of the kind we have met with. Mr. Leighton more 
 than holds his own with Eider Ha'-igard and Baring Gould." — The Times. 
 
 "Among the books hest liked by boys of the sturdy English type few will take 
 a higher place than Olaf the Glorious. . . . Some of th-e descriptions of fights 
 are quite Homeric." — yational Ohsemer. 
 
 "This book will compare most favourably even with Mr. Rider Haggard's 
 attempts to construct a modern Saga. . . . It is certain to be thoroughly 
 enjoyed by the boys." — The Spectator. 
 
 "The book will be spoken of as one for boys, but while it will meet the require- 
 ments of the most fastidious of them, it will find no less appreciative readers 
 among men of all ages. ... As a story it is vigorous and engrossing, it will 
 leave on the mind of the more thoughtful reader a vivid impression of an age of 
 chivalry, as well as of battles on land and sea." — Dundee Advertiser. 
 
 The Wreck of "The Golden Fleece": The story of a 
 
 North Sea Fisher-boy. By Robert Leighton. With 8 page 
 
 Illustrations by Frank Brangwyn. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 
 
 olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 " This story should add considerably to Mr. Leighton 's high reputation. Ex- 
 cellent in every respect, it contains every variety of incident. The plot is very 
 cleverly devised, and the types of the North Sea sailors are capital." — The Times. 
 
 The Pilots of Pomona: a story of the Orkney Islands. 
 
 By Robert Leighton. With 8 page Illustrations by John Leigh- 
 ton, and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 " A story which is quite as good in its way as Treasure Island, and is full of 
 adventure of a stirring yet most natural kind. Although it is primarily a boys' 
 book, it is a real godsend to the elderly render."— Glasgow Evening Times. 
 
 The Thirsty Sword: a story of the Norse Invasion of 
 Scotland (1262-63). By Robert Leighton. With 8 page Illus- 
 trations by Alfred Pearse, and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth ele- 
 gant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 " This is one of the most fascinating stories for hoys that it has ever been our 
 pleasure to read. From flist to last the interest never flags. Boys will worship 
 Kenric, who is a hero in every sense of the wor A."— Schoolmaster. 
 
BLACKIE d: SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 15 
 
 BY DR. GORDON STABLES. 
 
 To Greenland and the Pole. 
 
 With 8 page Illustra- 
 tions by G. C. Hind- 
 ley, and a Map. Crown 
 8vo, cloth elegant, oli- 
 vine edges, 6s. 
 
 "His Ai'ctic explorers have 
 the verisiraiUtude of life. The 
 adventures are actual experi- 
 ences. It is one of the book.s 
 of the season, and one of the 
 best Mr. Stables has ever writ- 
 ten." — Tnith. 
 
 "The story is very fascinat- 
 ing. . . . This is one of our 
 author's best, and it shotild 
 attract boys now that so many 
 of us try to realize what Arc- 
 tic exploration means.'— 27ie 
 Spectator. 
 
 "Brimful of vivacity and ex- 
 citing incident. . . . Boys 
 that are made of heroic stuff, 
 to use the Shaksperian word, 
 will delight in this sparkling 
 and rousing story of life in high 
 latitudes." — Saturday Reeieiv. 
 
 " The book is written in Dr. 
 Gordon Stables' most captivat- 
 ing style, and our only fault 
 with it is that a boy into whose 
 hands it falls may, perhaps, be 
 only too ready to set off to the 
 Far North in search of adven- 
 ture."— iVorf/i British Mail. 
 
 By Gordon Stables, m.d. 
 
 Reduced Illustration from "To Greenland 
 the Pole ". 
 
 and 
 
 Westward with Columbus. By Gordon Stables, m.d., 
 CM. With 8 page Illustrations by Alfred Pkarse. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 "We must place Westward loith Columbus among those books that all boys 
 ought to read" — The Spectator. 
 
 "This is quite one of the best books for boys that we have seen this autumn. 
 It is the duty of every British and American lad to know the story of Christopher 
 Columbus." — School Guardian. 
 
 'Twixt School and Colleg'e : a Tale of Self-reliance. By 
 
 Gordon Stables, cm., m.d., r.n. With 8 page Illustrations by 
 
 W. Parkinson. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 "One of the best of a prolific writer's books for boys, being full of practical 
 instructions as to keeping pets, and inculcates in a way which a little recalls Miss 
 Edgeworth's 'Frank' the virtue of self-reliance."— .4 <J^erKg?()(i.. 
 
16 BLACKIE <fc SOWS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 
 
 BY G. NORWAY. 
 
 A Prisoner of War: A story of the Time of Napoleon 
 Bonaparte. By G-. Norway. With 6 page IHustrations hy Robt. 
 Barnes, a.r.w.s. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. Gd. 
 
 " We have greatly enjoyed A Prisoner of War."— The Times. 
 
 " More hairbreadth escapes fi'om death hy starvation, by ice, by fighting, &c. , 
 were never befoi'e surmounted. . . . It is a fine yarn." — The Guardian. 
 
 " His worlc bears so strong an impress of truth that it reads like a real narrative 
 written by an actor in the events described." — Standard. 
 
 " Henry Wynter is such a young hero as boys ever like to meet in with, and 
 from acquaintanceship with whom they will derive a real benefit. The manly 
 way in which he looks after his mother and sisters during his gallant father's 
 incarceration in a French prison, will rouse the best spirit of every British boy 
 reader and render the well-told story a first favourite." — Dundee Advertiser. 
 
 A True Cornish IMfaid. By G. Norway. Witli O page 
 Illustrations by J. FiNNEMORE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. Gd. 
 
 " There is some excellent reading. . , . Mrs. Norway brings before the eyes 
 of her readers the good Cornish folk, their speech, their manners, and their ways 
 A True Cornish Maid deserves to be popular." — Athenoewn. 
 
 "Among girls' books thesuccessof the year has fallen, we think, to Mrs. Norway, 
 whose True Cornish Maid is really an admirable piece of work. . . . The book 
 is full of vivid and accurate local colour; it contains, too, some very clever 
 character studies." — Review of Reviews. 
 
 Hussein the Hostage : Or, a Boy's Adventures in Persia. 
 
 By G. Norway. With 8 page Illustrations by John Schonberg. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 " Hussein the Hostage is full of originality and vigour. The characters are life- 
 like, there is plenty of stirring incident, the interest is sustained throughout, and 
 every boy will enjoy following the fortunes of the hero."— Journal of Education. 
 
 The Loss of John Humble : What Led to it, and What 
 
 Came of It. By C Norway. With 8 page Illustrations by John 
 
 Schonberg. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
 
 " This story will place the author at once in the front rank. It is full of life 
 and adventure. He is equally at home in his descriptions of life in Sweden and 
 in the more stirring passages of wreck and disaster, and the interest of the story 
 is sustained without a break from first to ]iist."Standard. 
 
 Under False Colours: A story from Two Girls' Lives. 
 By Sarah Doudney. With 6 page Illustrations by G. G. KiL- 
 BURNE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 4s. 
 
 " Sarah Doudney has no superior as a writer of high-toned stories— pure in 
 style, original in conception, and with skilfully wrought-out plots ; but we have 
 seen nothing from her pen equal in dramatic energy to this hook."— Christian 
 Leader. 
 
 "This is a charming story, abounding in delicate touches of sentiment and 
 pathos. Its plot is skilfully contrived. It will be read with a warm interest by 
 every girl who takes it UTp."— Scotsman. 
 
BLACKIE <t SONS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 17 
 
 With the Sea King's : a story of the Days of Lord Nelaon. 
 
 By F. H. Winder. With 6 p.cage Illustrations by W. S. Stacey. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 4s. 
 "Just the book to put into a boy's bands. Every diapter contains boardings, 
 cuttiuffs out flahting pirates, escapes of tlnilling audacity, and captures by corsairs, 
 sufficient to turn the quietest boys head. The story culminates in a vigorous 
 account of the battle of Trafalgar. Happy boys : —Tlie Amdeviy 
 
 Grettir the Outlaw: a story of Iceland. By S. Baring- 
 
 G-ouLD. With 6 page Illustrations by M. Zeno DiEirER, and a 
 
 Colonred Map. New Edition. Crown 8vc, cloth elegant, is. 
 
 " Is the boys' book of its year That is, of course, as much as to say tliat it 
 
 will do for men grown as well as juniors. It is told ni snnple, straightforward 
 
 Eno-lish, as all stories should be, and it has a freshness, a freedom a sense of sun 
 
 and wind and the open air, which make it irresistible. --Natwnal Observer. 
 
 Gold, Gold, in Cariboo : A story of Adventure in British 
 Columbia. By Clive Phillipps-Woli.ey. With 6 page Illustra- 
 tions by G. C. HiNDLEY. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6f/. 
 - It would be difficult to say too much in favour of Gold, Gold, in Cariboo. We 
 have seldom read a more exciting tale of wild mining adventure in a singularly 
 inaccessible country. There is a capital plot, and the interest is sustained to the 
 last page."— T/iC Timef;. 
 
 A Champion of the Faith: A Tale of Prince Hal and the 
 
 Lollards. F.y J. M. Callwell. With 6 page Illustrations by 
 
 Herbert J. Draper. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 4.s'. 
 
 " Will not be less enioved than Mr Henty's books. Sir John Oldcastle's pathetic 
 
 story, and the history o'f his brave young stiuire, will make every buy enjoy this 
 
 lively atory."— London Qnarterlij. 
 
 BY ALICE CORKRAN. 
 
 Meg's Friend. By Alice Corkran. Witli page Illustra- 
 tions by Robert Fowler. Crown Svo, cloth extra, :ls\ 6c?. 
 '•One of Miss Corkran's charming books for girls, narrated in that simple 
 and picturesque style which marks the authoress as one of the first amongst 
 writers for young people. "- Tlie Spectator. 
 
 Marg-ery Merton's Girlhood. By Alice Corkran. With 
 
 page Pictures liy Cordon Browne. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 3s. Br?. 
 "Another book for girls we can warmly commend There is a delightful 
 piciuancy in the experiences and trials of a young English girl who studies 
 painting in Vm\?.."- Saturday Review. 
 
 Down the Snow Stairs: Or, From Good-night to Good- 
 raorning. By Alice Corkran. With 60 Illustrations by Gordon 
 Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 3s. 6f/. 
 "A gem of the first water, bearing upon every page the mark of genius. It is 
 
 ■indeed a Little Pilgrim's Progress. "-C/imh'an Lead.er. B 
 
18 BLACK IE & SONS BOOKS FOR TO UNO PEOPLE. 
 
 Sou'wester and Sword. Bj Hugh St. Leger. With 6 
 
 page Illustrations by Hal Hurst. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 4s. 
 
 "As racy a tale of life at sea and war adventure as we have met with for some 
 time. There is no attempt at fine writing ; it is from first to last a plain-sailing, 
 straightforward narrative, alive with incident and character, and stamped with 
 a veracity that suggests actual experience by the author of the things he de- 
 scribes. . . . Altogether it seems the sort of book that boys will revel in." — 
 Athenoium. 
 
 " Books as good-humoured, as good-nntured, as vivacious and as full of animal 
 spirits as Sou'ivester and Sjvord are hard to find " — National Observer. 
 
 " It we mistake not, a new giant among tellers of adventure will be recognized 
 in Mr. St. Leger, whose book we commend heartily to all wholesome boys. . . 
 We have i-ead no better boys' book for years; nor any fuller of good effect." 
 — Vanity Fair. 
 
 BY EDGAR PICKERING. 
 
 In Press-Gang" Days. By Edgar Pickering. With 6 
 Illustrations by W. S. Stacey. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d. 
 
 " A rollicking tale of the sea; sure to be popular with hoya." —Athenceum. 
 
 "It is of Marryat, that friend of our boyhood, we think as we read this 
 delightful story; for it is not only a story of adventure with incidents well con- 
 ceived and arranged, but the characters are interesting and well-distinguished." 
 — Acadeiny. 
 
 An Old-Time Yarn: Wherein is set forth divers desperate 
 mischances which befell Anthony Ingram and his shipmates in the 
 West Indies and Mexico with Hawkins and Drake. By Edgae 
 Pickering. Illustrated with 6 page Pictures drawn by Alfred 
 Peaese. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3.9. 6c?. 
 
 "And a very good yarn it is, with not a dull page from first to last. There is 
 a flavour of Westward Ho ! in this attractive book." — Educational Review. 
 
 Silas Verney : A Tale of the Time of Charles II. By Edgar 
 Pickering. With 6 page Illustrations by Alfred Pearse. Crown 
 Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6c?. 
 "Wonderful as the adventures of Silas are, it must be admitted that they are 
 
 very naturally woiked out and very plausibly presented. Altogether this is an 
 
 excellent story for boys." — Saturday Review. 
 
 BY ANNIE E. ARMSTRONG. 
 
 Three Brig'ht Girls: A story of Chance and Mischance. 
 By Annie E. Armstrong. With 6 page Illustrations by W. Par- 
 kinson. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6c?. 
 "Among many good stories for girls this is undoubtedly one of the very best. 
 The three girls whose porti'aits are so admirably painted are girls of earnest, 
 practical, and business-like mood. Ever bright and cheerful, tliey influence other 
 lives, and at last they come out of their trials and difficulties with honour to 
 themselves and benefits to all about them." — Teachers' Aid. 
 
 A Very Odd Girl: or, Life at the Gabled Farm. By Annie 
 E. Arr[STrong. With 6 page Illustrations by S. T. Dadd. Crown 
 Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6r?. 
 " The book is one we can heartily recommend, for it is not only bright and 
 
 interesting, but also pure and healthy in tone and teaching."— T/ie Lady. 
 
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 19 
 
 BY C. J. HYNE. 
 
 The Captured Cruiser: or, Two Years from Land. By 
 
 C. J. Hyne. With 6 page Illustrations by Fkank Brangwyn. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6c?. 
 
 " The two lads and the two skippers are admirably drawn. Mr. Hyne has 
 now secured a position in the first rank of writers of fiction for boys." — Spectator. 
 
 Afloat at Last : a Sailor Boy's Log of his Life at Sea. By 
 
 John C. Hotcheson. With 6 page Illustrations by W. H. 
 
 OvEREND. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d. 
 
 "As healthy and breezy a book as one could wish to put into the hands of 
 a boy, " — Academy. 
 
 Picked up at Sea: Or, The Gold Miners of Minturne Creek. 
 
 By J. C. HuTCHESON. With 6 page Pictures. Cloth extra, 3s. Qd. 
 
 " The author's success with this book is so mai'ked that it may well encourage him 
 to further efforts. The description of mining life in the Far West is true and accu- 
 rate." — Standard. 
 
 Cousin Geoffrey and I. By Caroline Austin. With 6 
 
 page Illustrations by W. Parkinson. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,, 3s. 6d. 
 "Miss Austin's story is bright, clever, and well developed." — Saturday Review. 
 
 Brother and Sister: Or, The Trials of the Moore Family. 
 
 By Elizabeth J. Lysaght. With 6 page Illustrations. Crown 
 
 Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. Qd. 
 
 "A pretty story, and well told. The plot is cleverly constructed, and the moral 
 is excellent." — Athenararn. 
 
 The Search for the Talisman: A story of Labrador. 
 
 By Henry Frith. With 6 page Illustrations by J. Schonberg. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d. 
 
 " Mr. Friths volume will be among those most read and highest valued. The 
 adventures among seals, whales, and icebergs in Labrador will delight many a 
 young reader." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Reefer and Rifleman: a Tale of the Two Services. By 
 
 Lieut.-Col. Percy -Groves. With 6 page Illustrations by John 
 
 Schonberg. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d. 
 
 " A good, old-fashioned, amphibious story of our fighting with the Frenchmen in 
 the beginning of our century, with a fair sprinkling of fun and frolic."— Times. 
 
 Dora : Or, A Girl without a Home. By Mrs. E. H. Eead. With 
 
 6 page Illustrations. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d. 
 
 "It is no slight thing, in an age of rubbish, to get a story so pure and healthy 
 as thia." — The Acadeviy. 
 
20 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 Life's Daily Ministry. A story of Everyday Service for 
 
 Others. By Mrs. E. R. Pitman. With 4 page Illustrations. Crown 
 
 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6rf. 
 
 "Shows exquisite touches of a master liaud. She depicts in graphic outline 
 tlie characteristics of the heautiful and tlie good in life."— Christian Union. 
 
 Storied Holidays: A Cycle of Eed-letter Days. By E. S. 
 
 Beooks. With 12 page Illustrations by Howard Pyle. Crown 
 
 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d. 
 
 " It is a downriglit good boolv for a senior boy, and is eminently readable from 
 first to last." — Schoolmaiiter. 
 
 ChivalriC Days: stories of Courtesy and Courage in the 
 
 Olden Times. By E. S. Brooks. With 20 Illustrations by 
 
 Gordon Browne and other Artists. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6f/. 
 
 "We liave seldom come across a prettier collection of tales. These charming 
 stories of boys and girls of olden days are no mere fictitious or imaginary sketches, 
 but are real and actual records of their sayings and doings." — Literary Wm'ld. 
 
 Historic Boys: Tlielr Endeavours, their Achievements, and 
 
 their Times. By E. S. Brooks. With 12 page Illustrations by 
 
 E. B. Birch and John Schonberg. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. 
 
 "A wholesome boolc, manly in tone, its character sketches enlivened by brisk 
 dialogue and high-class illustrations; altogether one that should incite boys to 
 further acquaintance with those lulers of men whose careers are narrated. We 
 advise teachers to put it on their list of prizes." — Knoiuledge. 
 
 Dr. JoUiffe'S Boys: a Tale of Weston School. By Lkwis 
 
 Hough. With 6 page Pictiires. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. 
 
 " Voung people who apineoiate Tom Brow7i'.i School-days will find this story a 
 worthy companion to that fascinating book. There is the same manliness of tone, 
 truthfulness of outline, avoidance of exaggeration and caricature, and healthy 
 morality as characterized the masterpiece of Mr. Hughes."— iV'f!co(.v(/(> Journal. 
 
 The Bubbling- Teapot, a Wonder story. By Mrs. L. W. 
 
 Champney. With 12 page Pictures by Walter Satteri.ee. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6(1. 
 
 "Very literally a 'wonder story', and a wild and fanciful one. Nevertheless 
 it is made realistic enough, and there is a good deal of information to be gained 
 from it."— The Tiinen. 
 
 BY JENNETT HUMPHREYS. 
 
 Laugh and Learn: The Easiest Book of Nursery Lessons 
 and Nursery Games. By Jennett Humphreys. Profusely Illus- 
 trated. Square 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. 
 
 "One of the best books of the kind imaginable, full of practical teaching in 
 word and picture, and helping the little ones pleasantly along a right royal road 
 to learning "—Oraphic, 
 
BLACKIE tt SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 21 
 
 Thorndyke Manor: a Tale of Jacobite Times. By Mary 
 
 C. RowsELL. With 6 page Illustrations by L. Leslie Brooke. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6a!. 
 
 "Miss Rowsell has never written a more attractive liuuk than Thorndyke 
 Manor. " — Bel/ant Neius- Letter. 
 
 Traitor or Patriot? a Tale of the Eye-House Plot. By 
 
 Marv C. Kowsell. With 6 page Pictures by C. 0. Murray and 
 
 C. J. Stanil.vnd, K.I. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, Ss. 6c/. 
 
 " Here the Rye-House Plot serves as the groundwork for a romantic love epi- 
 sode, whose true characters are lifelike h&m^^."— Graphic. 
 
 BLACKIE'S NEW THREE-SHILLING SERIES. 
 
 Beautifully Illustrated ami Handsomely Bound. 
 
 NEW VOLUMES. 
 
 Under Hatches : or, Ned Woodthorpe's Adventures. By F. 
 
 Frankfort Moore. With 6 page Illustrations by A. Forestier. 
 
 Neiv Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3,s. 
 
 "The story as a story is one that will just suit boys all tlie world over. The 
 characters are well drawn and consistent; I'atsy, the Irish steward, will be found 
 especially amusing." — Schoolmaster. 
 
 The C0ng"0 Rovers: a story of the Slave Squadron. By 
 
 Harry Collingwood. With 6 page Illustrations by J. Schonberg. 
 
 New Edition. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 
 
 "No better sea story has lately been written than the Coiujo Bovers. It is as 
 original as any boy could desire." — Morning Post. 
 
 MenhardOC: A story of Cornish Nets and Mines. By G. 
 
 Manville Fenn. With 6 page Illustrations by C. J. Staniland, 
 
 R.I. Crown Svo, cloth e.xtra, 3s. 
 
 "They are real living boys, with their virtues and faults. The Cornish tislier- 
 luen are drawn from life, and stand out from the pages in their jerseys and 
 sea-boots all sprinkled witli silvery pilchard scaXes."— Spectator. 
 
 YuSSUf the Guide : or, The Mountain Bandits. A Story of 
 
 Strange Adventure in Asia Minor. By G. Manville Fenn. With 
 
 6 page Illustrations by J. Schonberg. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 
 
 "Told with such real fresliness and vigour that the reader feels he is actually 
 oue of the party, shai'ing iu the fun and facing the ihmgeis." —Pall Mall Gazelle. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe. With lOO illustrations by Gordon 
 
 Browne. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 
 
 "One of the best issues, if not absolutely tlie best, of Defoe's work which has 
 ever ap;)eared."— 2'/ie Standard 
 
22 BLACKIE <fe SON'S BOOKS FOR YOONG PEOPLE. 
 
 THREE SHILLING SERIES— Continued. 
 
 Gulliver's Travels. With lOO illustrations by Gordon 
 
 Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 
 
 " Mr. Gordon Browne is, to my thinking, incomparably tlie most artistic, 
 spirited, and brilliant of our illustrators of books for boys, and one of the most 
 humorous also, as his illustrations of 'Gulliver' amply tQitiiy."— Truth. 
 
 Patience Wins : or, War in the Works. By George Man- 
 
 viLLE Fenn. With 6 page Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 
 
 "Mr Fenn has never hit upon a liappier plan than in writing this story of 
 Yorkshire factory life. The whole book is all aglow with \iie."~Pall Mall Gazette 
 
 Mother Carey's Chicken: Her Voyage to the Unknown 
 
 Isle. By G. Manville Fenn. With 6 page Illustrations by A. 
 
 FORESTIEK. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 
 
 " Undoubtedly one of the best Mr. Fenn has written. The incidents are of 
 thrilling interest, while tlie characters are drawn with a care and completeness 
 rarely found in a boys' book." — Literary World. 
 
 The Missing" Merchantman. By Harry Collingwood. 
 
 With 6 page Illustrations by AV. H. Ovekend. Cloth extra, Zs. 
 
 " One of the author's best sea stories. The hero is as heroic as any boy could 
 desire, and the ending is extremely happy."— Brifis/i Weekly. 
 
 The Rover's Secret: A Tale of the Pirate Cays and Lagoons 
 
 of Cuba. By Harry Collingwood. With 6 page Illustrations by 
 
 W. C. Symons. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, Ss. 
 
 " The Rove7''s Secret is by far the best sea story we have read for years, and is 
 certain to give unalloyed pleasure to hoys."— Saturday Review. 
 
 The Wigwam and the War-path: stories of the Eed 
 
 Indians. By AscoTT R. Hope. With 6 page Illustrations. Crown 
 
 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 
 
 "Is notably good. It gives a very vivid picture of life among the Indians, 
 which will delight the heart of many a schoolboy." — Spectator: 
 
 Perseverance Island: or, The Eobinson Crusoe of the 19tli 
 
 Century. By Douglas Frazar. With 6 page Illustrations. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 
 
 "This is an interesting story, written with studied simplicity of style, much in 
 Defoe's vein of apparent sincerity and scrupulous veracity; while for practical 
 instruction it is even better than Robinson Crusoe." — Illustrated London Ne^vs. 
 
 Girl Neighbours : or, The Old Fashion and the New. By 
 
 Sarah Tytler. With 6 page Illustrations by C. T. Garland. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 
 
 " One of the most effective and quietly humorous of Miss Sarah Tytler's stories. 
 It is very healthy, very agreeable, and very well written."— rAe Spectator. 
 
BLACKIE ds SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNQ PEOPLE. 28 
 
 BY BEATRICE HARRADEN. 
 
 Thing's Will Take a Turn. By Beatrice Harraden. 
 A New Edition, with 44 Illustrations by John H. Bacon. Crown 
 8vo, cloth elegant, 2s. 6f^. 
 
 "Perhaps the most brilhant is Things Will Take a Turn. ... A tale of 
 humble child life in East London. It is a delightful blending of comedy and 
 tragedy, with an e.xcellent plot." — The Times. 
 
 " One of the most pathetic and touching stories for children that we have ever 
 met with. Little ' Cliildie ' is so sweet and so utterly unselfish in her ways, and 
 her love and devotion to her grandfather are so deep ; it makes one wisli there 
 were a few more such Cliildies to be met with in this world. The whole moral tone 
 of this book is so good that we would advise all parents to read it to their chil- 
 dren." — Court Circular. 
 
 " One of the most striking books of the present season. A very touching story, 
 full of unselfish teaching; is admirably told, and all ends well. In our opinion 
 such an arrangement is the ideal one for a child's book." — School Guardian. 
 
 The WhispePing- Winds, and the Tales that they Told. By 
 
 Mary H. Debenham. With 25 Illustrations by Paul Hardy. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 2s. Qd. 
 
 " We wish the winds would tell us stories like these. It would be worth while 
 to climb Primrose Hill, or even to the giddy heights of Hampstead Heath in a 
 bitter east wind, if we could only be sure of hearing sucli a sweet, sad, tender, 
 and stirring story as that of Hilda Brave Heart, or even one that was half so 
 good. How Mias Debenham remembered all the winds told her is a puzzle; 
 but there is no doubt that these stories are reported verbatim, just as they were 
 spoken, and there is also no doubt that they are all quite txviQ."— Academy. 
 
 BLACKIE'S HALF-CROWN SERIES. 
 
 Illustrated by eminent Artists. In crown 8vo, cloth elegant. 
 
 Hammond's Hard Lines. By Skelton Kuppord. illus- 
 trated by Harold Copping. 
 
 " The story is very clever and provocative of laughter."— Standard, 
 
 "It is just what a boy would choose if the selection of a story-book is left in 
 
 his own \\&uA." School Guardian. 
 "A capital story of schoolboy life, written with insight, humour, and skill." — 
 
 The Educational Neu's. 
 
 Dulcie King": A story for Girls. By M. Corbet-Seymour. 
 
 Illustrated by Gertrude D. Hammond. 
 
 " An extremely graceful, well-told tale of domestic life, . . . The heroine, 
 Dulcie, is a charming person, and worthy of the good fortune which she causes 
 and shares." — Guardian. 
 
 Hugh Herbert's Inheritance. By Caroline Austin. 
 
 With 4 page Illustrations by C. T. Garland. Neiv Edition. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 2s. 6d. 
 
 "Will please by its simplicity, its tenderness, and its healthy interesting 
 motive. It is admirably written." — Scotsman. 
 
 Nicola : The Career of a Girl Musician. By M. Corbet-Sey- 
 mour. Illustrated by Gertrude D. Hammond. 
 " There is a great deal of quiet force and strength about the story. I can thor- 
 oughly and heartily recommend Nicola as a present for gh-\s."~Winter's Weekly. 
 
24 
 
 BLACKIE <t SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLjs. 
 
 HALF-CROWN SERIES-Continued. 
 A Little Handful. By Harriet J. Scripps 
 
 t.:ij:''^^:i^5:"!::sS';:^.^.^,!;::^"*' •-^'^'«' "■->--- '-^y. wi. ,.!,« fron, 
 
 A Golden Ag-e : A Stoiy of Four Merry Children. By Ismay 
 Thokn. Illustrated by Gordon Browne. 
 "Ought to have a place of honour on the nursery s)ielf.--2%e Atheiueum. 
 
 A Roug-h Road: or, How the Boy Made a Man of Himself 
 By Mr.s. G. Linn^us Banks. 
 
 .n:^ifi!;:::^l^srss?^;-!}t-^^,s 
 
 The Two Dorothys. By Mrs. Herbert Martin. 
 "A book that will hitertst and please all girls."— r/ie Lady. 
 
 Penelope and the Others. By amy Walton 
 .a^il^tt^iSliu^J^t^-^--^,^ 
 
 A Cruise in ClOUdland. By Henry Frith. 
 
 "A thoroughly interesting story. "-Si. James's Gazette. 
 
 Marian and Dorothy. By Annie e. Armstrong 
 
 ■• This is distinctively a book for girls. A bright .vholesonie story. "-.Ica.^emy, 
 
 StimSOn's Reef: a Tale of Adventure. By C. J. Hyne. 
 
 •• It may almost vie wiM, Mr. R. L. .Stevenson's Treasure lsland."~Gvardian. 
 
 Gladys Anstruther. By Louisa Thompson. 
 
 " It is a clever book : novel and striking in tlie highest degree. '-Schvolmistress. 
 
 The Secret of the Old House. By E. Everett-Green. 
 
 "Tim, the little Jacobite, is a cliarniing creation. "--.-Icadewti/, 
 
 Hal Hung-erford. By J. K. Hutchinson, b.a. 
 " Altogetlier, Hal Hungerford is a distinct literary success."— 6:pcc?ator. 
 
 The Golden Weathercock. By Julia Goudard. 
 
 "A cleverly conceived quaint story, ingeniously written."— SaiwrcZai/ Review. 
 
 White Lilac: or, The Queeu of the May. By Amy Walton. 
 •• Every rural parish ouglit to add White Lilac to its MhrsiYy."— Academy. 
 
 Miriam's Ambition. By Evelyn EviiRETT-GREEN. 
 
 ■■iliss Green's children are real Britisli boys and sh-\&."~Liverpoul Mercury. 
 
 The Brig- "Audacious". By Alan Cole. 
 
 " J<'resh and wholesome as a breath of sea air."— Court Journal. 
 
liLACKlB it SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. -'5 
 
 HALF-CROWN SERIES-Continued. 
 
 The Saucy May By Henry Frith. 
 
 ■' Mr, Frith gives a new picturu of life on the ocean wave." — Skejjidd Independent. 
 
 Jasper's Conquest. By Elizabeth J. Lysaght. 
 
 " One of the best boys' liooks of the masou."— Schoolmaster. 
 
 Little Lady Clare. By Evelyn Everett-Green. 
 
 " Keiniuds us in its quaintness of Mrs. Ewing's deliglitful tales." — Liter. World. 
 
 The Eversley Secrets. By Evelyn Everett-Green. 
 
 "Roy Eversley is a very touching picture of high princi])le." — Guardian. 
 
 The Hermit Hunter of the Wilds. By G. Stables, r.n. 
 
 " Will gladden the heart of many a bright boy." — Methodiat Recorder. 
 
 Sturdy and Strong". By G. A. Henty. 
 
 " A hero who stands as a good instance of chivalry in domestic life. "—The Empire. 
 
 Gutta Percha Willie. By George Mac Donald. 
 
 " Get it for your boys and girls to read for themselves. ' — Practical Teacher. 
 The War of the Axe : Or, Adventure.s ill South Africa. By 
 
 J. rEHCY-LTllOVES. 
 "The story is well and brilliantly iiiVX." — Literary World. 
 
 The Lads of Little Clayton. By e. Stead. 
 
 "A capital boidv fol' liciys. " — Schoolmaster. 
 
 Ten Boys who lived on the Eoad from Long Ago to Now. 
 By Jane Andrews. With 20 Ilkistrations. 
 " I'he idea is a very happy one, and admirably carried out." — Practical Teacher. 
 
 A Waif of the Sea: Or, The Lost Found. By Kate Wood, 
 
 " Written with tenderness and grace." — Mornini/ Advertiser. 
 
 Winnie's Secret. By Kate Wood. 
 
 " One of the liest story-books we have read." — SchonUnaster. 
 
 Miss WillOWburn's Offer By Sarah Doudney. 
 
 " I'atience Willowlmrn is one of Miss Doudney's best creations."— ,S^tTfo<wr. 
 
 A Garland for Girls. By Louisa M. Aloott. 
 
 " These little tales are the beau ideal of girls' stories."— C/irfS^ia/i World. 
 
 Hetty Gray; Or, Nobody's Bairn. By Rosa Mulholland. 
 "Hetty is a delightful creature— piquant, teuder, and true." — World. 
 
 Brothers in Arms : A story of the Crusades. By F. Bay- 
 FoKu Harrison. 
 
 "Sure to prov'i iiitei-estiiig to young people of both se.\es." — Guardian. 
 
 Miss Fenwick's Failures. By Esme Stuart. 
 
 " A girl true to real life, who will put no nonsense into young beads." — Graphic. 
 
 Gytha'S Messag-e. By Emma Leslie. 
 "This is the sort of book that all girls like." — Journal of Ediication. 
 
26 BLACK IE is SON'S BOOKS FOR TOUNO PEOPLE. 
 
 HALF-CROWN SERIES-Continued. 
 
 Jack O' Lanthorn : a Tale of Adventure. By Henry Frith. 
 
 "The narrative is cruslied full of stirring incident."— CAristia?i Leader. 
 
 The Family Failing*. By Darley Dale. 
 
 "A capital lesson on the value of contentedneas." — Aberdeen Journal. 
 
 My Mistress the Queen. By M. A. Paull. 
 
 " The style is pure and graceful, and the story full of interest." — Scotsman. 
 
 The Stories of Wasa and Menzikoff. 
 Stories of the Sea in Former Days. 
 Tales of Captivity and Exile. 
 Famous Discoveries by Sea and Land. 
 Stirring" Events of History. 
 Adventures in Field, Flood, and Forest. 
 
 "It would be difficult to place in the hands of young people books which 
 combine interest and instruction in a higher degree." — Manchester Courier: 
 
 BLACKIE'S TWO-SHILLING SERIES. 
 
 Illustrated by eminent Artists. In crown 8vo, cloth elegant. 
 
 NEW VOLUMES. 
 
 The Organist's Baby: A story for Boys and Girls. By 
 Kathleen Knox. Illustrated by John H. Bacon. 
 
 School-Days in France. By An Old Girl. Illustrated 
 by W. Parkinson. 
 
 The Ravensworth Scholarship: A High School story 
 
 for Girls. By Mrs. Henry Clarke, m.a. Illustrated by John H. 
 Bacon. 
 
 Queer of the Daffodils : a story of High School Life. By 
 Leslie Laing. 
 
 Raff's Ranche : A story of Adventure among Cow-boys and 
 Indians. By F. M. Holmes. 
 
 An Unexpected Hero. By Eliz. j. Lysaght. 
 
 The Bushrang"er'S Secret. By Mrs. Henry Clarke, m.a. 
 The White Squall. By John C. Hutcheson. 
 
 The Wreck of the "Nancy Bell". By j. c. Hutcheson 
 The Lonely Pyramid. By J. h. Yoxall. 
 
 Bab: or, The Triumph of Unselfishness. By Ismay Thorn. 
 Climbing the 'llll, and other Stories. By Annie S. Swan. 
 
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNQ PEOPLE. 27 
 
 TWO-SHILLING SERIES— Continued. 
 
 Brave and True, and other stories. By Gregson Gow. 
 The Light Princess. By George Mac Donald. 
 
 Nutbrown Roger and I. By J. H. Yoxall. 
 
 Warner's Chase: Or. The Gentle Heart. By Annie S. Swan. 
 
 Reduced Illustration from Ih <jit ta ij the D ijj 
 
 Sam Silvan's Sacrifice. By Jesse Colman. 
 
 Insect Ways on Summer Days in Garden, Forest, Field, 
 and Stream. By Jennett Humphreys. With 70 Illustrations. 
 
 Susan. By Amy Walton. 
 
 A Pair of Clogs. By Amy Walton. 
 
 The Hawthorns, By Amy Walton. 
 
 Dorothy's Dilemma. By CAROLiNEr'A^TTSTiN 
 
28 BLACKIE & SONS BOORS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 TWO-SHILLING SERIES— Continued. 
 
 Marie's Home. By Caroline Austin. 
 A Warrior King*. By J. Evelyn. 
 
 Aboard the "Atalanta". By Henky Frith. 
 The Penang- Pirate. By John c. Hutcheson. 
 
 Teddy I The story of a " Little Pickle ". By John C Hutcheson. 
 
 A Rash Promise. By Cecilia Selby Lowndes. 
 
 Linda and the Boys. By Cecilia Selby Lowndes. 
 
 Swiss stories for Children. From the Germau of Madam 
 Johanna Spyki. By Lucy Wheelock. 
 
 The Squire's Grandson. By j. m. Callwell. 
 
 Magna Charta Stories. Edited by Arthur Gilman, a.m. 
 
 The Wings of Courage; and The Cloud - Spinner. 
 Translated from the French of George Sand, by Mrs. Cokkkan. 
 
 Chirp and Chatter: Or, Lessons from Field and Tree. 
 By Alice Banks. With 54 Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 
 
 Four Little Mischiefs. By Eosa Mulholland. 
 
 New Light through Old Windows. By Gregson Gow. 
 
 Little Tottie, and Two other Stories. By Thomas Archer. 
 Naughty Miss Bunny. By Clara Mulholland. 
 
 Adventures of Mrs. Wishing-to-be. By Alice Corkran. 
 
 The Joyous Story of TotO. By Laura E. Eichards. 
 Our Dolly : Her Words and Ways. By Mrs. E. H. Eead. 2s. 
 Fairy Fancy • What she Heard and Saw. By Mrs. Eead. 2s. 
 
 BLACKIE'S EIGHTEENPENNY SERIES. 
 
 With Illustrations. In crown 8vo, cloth elegant. 
 
 NEW VOLUMES. 
 Olive and Robin: or, A Journey to Nowhere. By the Author of 
 
 "Twd Dorothys ". 
 Mona's Trust: A story for Girls. By Penelope Leslie. 
 Little Jimmy: A Story of Adventure. By Eev. D. Eice-Jones, m.a. 
 Pleasures and Pranks. By Isabella Pearson. 
 In a Stranger's Garden : A Story for Boys and Girls. By 
 
 Constance Cuming. 
 
BLACKIE it SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 29 
 
 EIGHTEENPENNY SERIES -Continued. 
 
 A Soldier's Son : The Story of a Boy 
 who Succeeded. By Annette Lys- 
 
 TER. 
 
 Mischief and Merry-making. By 
 
 Isabella Pearson. 
 
 Llttlebourne Lock. By 
 
 F. Bayford Harrison. 
 
 Wild Meg and Wee 
 
 Dickie. By Mary E. 
 
 Ropes. 
 Grannie. By Elizabeth 
 
 J. Ly-sagiit. 
 
 The Seed She Sowed. 
 
 By Emma Leslie. 
 Unlucky: A Fragment of a 
 Cxirl's Life. By CARO- 
 LINE Austin. 
 
 Everybody's Business: 
 
 or a Friend in Need. 
 
 By Ism AY Thorn. 
 Tales of Daring and 
 
 Danger. I'>y G. A 
 
 Henty. 
 
 The Seven Golden Keys. 
 
 By James E. .Arnold. 
 
 The Story of a Queen. 
 
 By Mary C. Rowsell. 
 Edwy : Or, Was he a 
 Coward? By ANNETTE 
 Lyster. 
 
 The Battlefield Trea 
 sure. By F. J'>ayford 
 
 flARRISiJN. 
 
 Joan's Adventures at 
 the North Pole. By 
 
 .■\LICE COUKRAN. 
 
 Filled with Gold. By .1. 
 
 Perrett. 
 Our General: A Story for 
 Girls. By Elizabetii 
 
 J. LY'SAGHT. 
 
 Aunt Hesba's Charge 
 
 By Elizabeth ,l. Ly- 
 
 SAGHT. 
 
 By Order of Queen Maude: A Story 
 of Home Life. J-Jy Louis.\. Crow. 
 
 The Late Miss Hollingford. By 
 Rosa Mulholland. 
 
 Our Frank. By Amy Walton. 
 
 A Terrible Coward, liy G. Man- 
 
 VILLE FENN. 
 
 Yarns on the Beach. By G, A. 
 Henty. 
 
 Town Mice in the Country. 
 
 M. E. Francis. 
 Phil and his Father, 
 
 Thorn. 
 Prim's Story. By L. E. Tidpeman 
 
 By 
 By Ism AY 
 
 Tom Finch's Monkey. 
 
 Hutoiieson. 
 
 By .1. C. 
 
 Miss Grantley's Girls, and the Stories 
 
 slie told them. By Thos. Archer. 
 
 The Pedlar and his Dog. By Mary 
 
 C. ROWSELL. 
 
 Reduced Specimen of the Ilh(sf>at(iin<i 
 
 Down and Up Again. By Greoson 
 Gow. 
 
 Madge's Mistake. By Annie E. 
 
 Armstrong. 
 
 The Troubles and Triumphs ot 
 Little Tim. By Greqson Gow. 
 
 The Happy Lad: A Story of Peasant 
 Life m Norway. By B. BJdRNSON. 
 
 Into the Haven. By Annie S. Swan. 
 
 A Box of Stories. Packed for Young 
 Folk by Horace Hapi'YMAN. 
 
 The Patriot Martyr, and other Nar- 
 ratives of Female Heroism. 
 
80 
 
 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 LIBRARY OF FAMOUS BOOKS FOR 
 BOYS AND GIRLS. 
 
 In Crown 8vo. Illustrated. 
 
 Waterton's Wanderings in S. 
 
 America. 
 Anson's Voyage Round the World. 
 Autobiography of Franlclin. 
 Lamb's Tales from Shalcspeare. 
 Southey s Life of Nelson. 
 Miss Mitford s Our Village. 
 Two Years Before the Mast. 
 Marryat's Children of the New 
 
 Forest. 
 Scott's The Talisman. 
 
 Cloth extra, Is. 6d. each. 
 
 The Baslcet of Flowers. 
 
 Marryat's Masterman Ready. 
 
 Alcott's Little Women. 
 
 Cooper's Deerslayer. 
 
 The Lamplighter. By Miss Cum- 
 mins. 
 
 Cooper's Pathfinder. 
 
 The Vicar of Wakefield. 
 
 Plutarch's Lives of Greek Heroes. 
 
 Poe's Tales of Romance and Fan- 
 tasy. 
 
 THE SHILLING SERIES OF JUVENILES. 
 
 Square 16mo, Illustrated, and neatly bound in cloth extra. 
 
 NEW VOLUMES. 
 
 Only a Shilling. By M. Corbet- 
 Seymour. 
 Sparkles. By Harriet J. Scripps. 
 
 Just Like a Girl. By Penelope 
 Leslie. 
 
 Daisy and her Friends. 
 
 TIDDEMAN. 
 
 By L. B. 
 
 Brave Dorette. By Julia Goddard. 
 
 Piecrust Promises. By W. L. 
 
 Hooper. 
 
 Summer Fun and Frolic. By Isa- 
 bella Pearson 
 
 Little Aunt Dorothy. By Jennie 
 Chappell. 
 
 The Lost Dog. By Ascott R. Hope. 
 
 The Rambles of Three Children. 
 
 By Geraldine Mockler. 
 
 A Council of Courtiers. By Cora 
 
 Langton. 
 A Parliament of Pickles. By Cora 
 
 Langton. 
 Sharp Tommy. By E. J. Lysaght. 
 
 Adventures of Nell, Eddie, and 
 Toby. By G. Mockler. 
 
 Freda's Folly. By M. S. Haycraft. 
 Philip Danford: A Story of School 
 Life. By Julia Goddard. 
 
 The Youngest Princess. By Jennie 
 Chappbi.l. 
 
 Arthur's Temptation. 
 Lbslib. 
 
 By Emma 
 
 A Change for the Worse. 
 
 Harriet M. Capes. 
 
 By M. 
 
 Our Two Starlings. ByC.RBDFOKD. 
 
 Mr. Lipscombe's Apples. By Julia 
 
 Goddard. 
 Gladys. By E. O'Byrne. 
 A Gypsy against Her Will. By 
 
 Lmma Leslie. 
 
 How the Strike Began. By Do. 
 
 The Castle on the Shore. By Isa- 
 bel Hornibrook. 
 
 An Emigrant Boy's Story. By 
 
 Ascott R. Hope. 
 
 Jock and his Friend. By Coka 
 
 Langton. 
 John a' Dale. By Mary C. Rowsell. 
 
 In the Summer Holidays. By Jen- 
 
 nett Humphreys. 
 Tales from the Russian of Madame 
 
 Kabalensky. By G. Jenner. 
 Cinderella's Cousin. By Penelope. 
 Their New Home. By A. S. Fenn. 
 Janie's Holiday. By C. Redford. 
 A Boy Musician: or, The Young Days 
 
 of M.>?Mrt. 
 Hatto's Tower. By M. C. Rowsell. 
 Fairy Lovebairn's Favourites. 
 Alf Jetsam. By Mrs. Geo. Cupples. 
 The Redfords. By Mrs. G. Cupples. 
 Missy. P>y F. Bayford Harrison. 
 Hidden Seed. By Emma Leslie. 
 Tom Watkin's Mistake. Do. 
 
BLACKIE <fc SON'S BOOKS FOR CHILDREN. 
 
 31 
 
 SHILLING SERIES— Continued. 
 
 Ursula's Aunt. By Annie S. Fenn. 
 
 Jack's Two Sovereigns. By Annie 
 s. Kesn. 
 
 A Little Adventurer. By G. Gow. 
 
 Olive Mount. By Annie S. Fenn. 
 
 The Ciiildren of Haycombe. Do, 
 
 Three Little Ones. By C. Langton. 
 
 Two Little Brothers. By M. Har- 
 
 jtiKT .U. Capes. 
 
 The New Boy at Merriton. By 
 
 Julia Goddakii. 
 
 The Cruise of the "Petrel ". By 
 
 F. ii. Holmes. 
 
 The Wise Princess. By M. Harriet 
 
 JM. CAPES. 
 
 The Blind Boy of Dresden. 
 
 Jon of Iceland. 
 
 Stories from Shakespeare. 
 
 Every Man in his Place. 
 
 Fireside Fairies and Fancies. 
 
 To the Sea in Ships. 
 
 Jack's Victory: Stories about Dogs. 
 
 Story of a King. 
 
 Prince Alexis: or, Old Russia. 
 
 Little Daniel : A Story of the Rhine. 
 
 Sasha the Serf: Stories of Russia. 
 
 True Stories of Foreign History. 
 
 THE NINEPENNY SERIES FOR CHILDREN. 
 
 F'cap 8vo, Illustrated, and neatly bound in cloth extra. 
 
 NEW VOLUMES. 
 
 Toby. By L. E. Tiddeman. 
 
 He, She, It. By A. de V. Dawson. 
 
 The Carved Box. By NoRLEr 
 
 Chester. 
 
 Darby and Joan. By Ethel Pen- 
 rose. 
 My Aunt Nan. By E. King Hall. 
 
 A Little English Gentleman. By 
 
 Jane Deakin. 
 
 The Doctor's Lass. By L. E. Tid- 
 
 I)E.\IAN. 
 
 Spark and I, By Annie Armstrong. 
 What Hilda Saw. By Penelope 
 
 Leslie. 
 Little Miss Masterful. By L. E. 
 
 tiddeman. 
 
 A Sprig of Honeysuckle. By 
 
 Gkorgina M. .Squire. 
 
 An Australian Childhood. By Ellen 
 Campbell. 
 
 Kitty Carroll. By L. E. Tiddeman. 
 
 A Joke for a Picnic. By W. L. 
 
 Rdoper. 
 
 Cross Purposes, and The Shadows 
 
 By George Mac Donald. 
 
 Patty's Ideas. By L, E. Tiddeman. 
 
 Daphne By E. O'Byrne. 
 
 Lily and Rose in One. Bv Cecilia 
 
 S. LoWNIiES. 
 
 Crowded Out. By :m. B. Manwell. 
 Tom In a Tangle. By T. Sparrow. 
 
 Things will Take a Turn. By 
 
 Beatrice Harraden. 
 
 Max or Baby. By Ismay Thorn. 
 The Lost Thimble. By Mrs. Mus- 
 
 GRAVE. 
 
 Jack-a-Dandy. By E. J. Lysaght. 
 A Day of Adventures. By Char- 
 lotte Wyatt. 
 The Golden Plums. By F. Clare. 
 The Queen of Squats. By Isabel 
 
 HOKNIBROOK. 
 
 Little Troublesome. Do. 
 Shucks. By Emma Leslie. 
 Sylvia Brooke. By M. H. M. Capes. 
 The Little Cousin. By A. S. Fenn. 
 In Cloudland. By Mrs. Musgrave. 
 Jack and the Gypsies. By Kate 
 Wood. 
 
 Hans the Painter. By Mary C. 
 
 Rowsell. 
 Sepperl the Drummer Boy. Do. 
 Fisherman Grim. Do. 
 My Lady May: .ind One Other Story. 
 
 By Hakuiet Boultwood. 
 A Little Hero. By Mrs. Musgrave. 
 Prince Jon's Pilgrimage. 
 Harold's Ambition : or, A Dream of 
 
 Fame. By Jennie Perrett. 
 Aboard the Mersey. By Mrs. 
 
 George Cupples. 
 A Blind Pupil. By Annie S. Fenn. 
 Lost and Found. By Mrs. Carl 
 
 Rothkr. 
 
32 
 
 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR CHILDREN. 
 
 SOMETHING FOR THE 
 
 Illustrated. 64 pp., cloth. 6il. each. 
 
 Tales Easy and Small, 
 
 Old Dick Grey and Aunt Kate'.? Way. 
 
 Maud's Doll and Her Walk. 
 
 In Holiday Time. 
 
 Whisk and Buzz. 
 
 VERY LITTLE ONES. 
 Little Tales for Little Folk. 
 
 By Miss W. L. Roopkr. 2(1 each. 
 FRED'S RUN. 
 NORA'S DARK LOOK. 
 ELLA'S FALL. 
 PATTY'S WALK. 
 HONEST DOLLY. 
 LITTLE QUEEN PET. 
 
 THE SIXPENNY SERIES FOR CHILDREN. 
 
 Neatly bound tn cloth extra. Each contains 64 pages and an Illustration. 
 
 NEW VOLUMES. 
 
 Nobody's Pet. By A. pe V. Dawson. 
 Daisy's Visit to Uncle Jack. 
 Lady Patience. By F. S. Hollings. 
 Vertaand Jaunette. By Mrs, Thorp. 
 
 Mrs. Holland's Peaches. 
 Marjory's White Rat, 
 Grandmother's Forget-me-nots. 
 From over the Sea. 
 The Kitchen Cat. By Amy Walton. 
 The Royal Eagle. By L, Thompson. 
 Two Little Mice. By Mrs. Garlick. 
 A Little Man of War. 
 Lady Daisy. By Caroline Stewart. 
 Dew. By H. ^Iary Wilson. 
 Chris's Old Violin. By J. Loc-khart. 
 Mischievous Jack. By A. Corkran. 
 The Twins. By L. E. Tiddeman. 
 Pet's Project. By Cora Langton. 
 The Chosen Treat. By C. Wyatt. 
 Little Neighbours. By A. S. Fenn. 
 Jim : A story of Child Life. 
 Little Curiosity. By .T. M. Oallwell. 
 Sara the Wool-gatherer. 
 
 Fairy Stories : told by Penelope. 
 
 A New Year's Tale. By M. A. Currie. 
 
 Little Mop. By iSIrs. Charles Bray. 
 
 The Tree Cake, and other Stories. 
 
 Nurse Peggy, and Little Dog Trip. 
 
 Fanny's King. By Darley Dale. 
 
 Wild Marsh Marigolds. By D. Dale 
 
 Kitty's Cousin. 
 
 Cleared at Last. 
 
 Little Dolly Forbes. 
 
 A Year with Nellie. By A. S. Fenn. 
 
 The Little Brown Bird. 
 
 The Maid of Domremy, 
 
 Little Eric : a story of Honesty. 
 
 Uncle Ben the Whaler. 
 
 The Palace of Luxury. 
 
 The Charcoal Burner. 
 
 Willy Black: A Story of Doing Right, 
 
 The Horse and his Ways. 
 
 The Shoemaker's Present. 
 
 Lights to Walk by. 
 
 The Little Merchant, 
 
 Nicholina: A story about an Icelierg. 
 
 A SERIES OF FOURPENNY REWARD BOOKS. 
 
 Each 64 pages, 18mo, Illustrated, in Picture Boards. 
 
 A Start in Life. By J. Lockhart. 
 Happy Childhood. 
 Dorothy's Clock. 
 Toddy. By L. E. Tiddeman. 
 Stories about my Dolls. 
 Stories about my Cat Timothy. 
 Delia's Boots. By W. L. Rooper. 
 Climbing the Hill. By Annie S. 
 Swan. 
 
 A Year at Coverley. By Do. 
 Phil Foster. By.T. Lookhart. 
 
 Papa's Birthday. By W. L. Rooper. 
 The Charm Fairy. By Penelope. 
 Little Tales for Little Children. 
 Brave and True. By Greoson Gow. 
 Johnnie Tupper's Temptation. Do. 
 Maudie and Bertie. 
 The Children and the Water-Lily 
 
 By .ruLIA GODDARD. 
 
 Poor Tom Olliver. Do. 
 Fritz's Experiment. 
 Lucy's Christmas-Box. 
 
 BLACKIE k SON, Limited., London, GIjAsgow, and Dubun 
 

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