}\o v £- 
 
 Mr 
 
 '/ a ^JiXZZa 
 
 
 <34^o-z>-^ t 
 
 
 
aT 
 
 V 
 
 
 / 
 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in '2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://archive.org/details/maplehillorauntlOOamer 
 
^m 
 
MAPLE HILL; 
 
 OB 
 
 AUNT LUCY'S STORIES 
 
 The lipa of the righteous feed many."— Peovebbs x. 21- 
 
 HI 
 
 American Tract Society, 
 
 1 50 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by 
 
 The American Tract Society, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of 
 
 Massachusetts. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. Aunt Lucy, and why she never 
 
 Married 5 
 
 II. Maple Hill Nursery . . .17 
 
 III. Respect for the Aged. — The Story 
 
 of Sally Brown . . . .28 
 
 IV. Kindness to the Poor. — The Story 
 
 of Old Karl 48 
 
 V. Tale-Bearing. — The Story of Bir- 
 
 sey, the Tattler . . . .61 
 VI. Good Nature. — The Baby's Tooth 73 
 VII. Trust and Cheerfulness. — Hunt- 
 
 ' ing for Stars 85 
 
 VIII. Bitter Words. -- The Story of Lit- 
 tle Kitty . . 97 
 
MAPLE HILL 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 AUNT LUCY, AND WHY SHE NEVER MARRIED. 
 
 "What is an old maid ? " asked little seven- 
 years-old Bessie, one day, of her mother. 
 
 " What put that question into your mind 
 just now, my love ? " asked Mrs. Carrol, 
 with a smile. 
 
 " Why, Bridget says Aunt Lucy is an old 
 maid ; and that, when she comes, we shall 
 have to walk on tiptoe, and not be able to 
 play at all in the house," replied Bessie. 
 
 " How does Bridget know that ? " asked 
 the mother. 
 
 " She says old maids are always cross, and 
 hate children," said -Bessie, with a mournful 
 face. 
 
6 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 " Bridget is quite mistaken, my dear. 
 There is not a kinder heart in the world 
 than Aunt Lucy's." 
 
 " But what do people be old maids for, 
 mother dear ? " asked the child. 
 
 " Because God in his providence makes 
 them so ; just as he makes others wives and 
 mothers." 
 
 -" But what do people mean by * old 
 maids ' ? " asked Bessie. 
 
 "It is a rude name for ladies who have 
 spent their youth without being married," 
 replied the mother. 
 
 " Well, that's no harm, is it, mother ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, Bessie." 
 
 " Is my teacher, Miss Morse, an old 
 maid ? " 
 
 " Bude and heartless people would call her 
 so," replied Mrs. Carrol. 
 
 " And my Sunday-school teacher, too ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, then, I don't think it can be such a 
 
AUNT LUCY. 7 
 
 dreadful thing, after all, to be an old maid ! 
 Neither Miss Morse nor Miss Lake are cross, 
 and I'm very sure they don't hate children," 
 said Bessie. 
 
 " They are both noble and lovable women, 
 my child," said her mother ; " and as God has 
 laid less care on them than on your mother, 
 they are able to do more good to the little 
 ones who have no mothers. Your Aunt Lucy 
 has spent her youth and lost her beauty in 
 watching beside the sick-bed of my parents. 
 After my sweet mother died, my poor father 
 was ill a long time. He was very aged, and 
 so childish that he was a constant care. But 
 no one ever heard Aunt Lucy complain of 
 weariness or confinement in all those years. 
 When our father died, she mourned for him as 
 deeply as if he had been her strong protector 
 instead of her helpless charge." 
 
 " And does she bear with little children, 
 mother, as well as with old people ? " asked 
 
8 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 " She does more than bear with them, my 
 dear. She loves them, and is always doing 
 something to make the poor children around 
 her happy. But you will soon see for your- 
 self what kind of a lady she is. When we 
 invited her to live with us, after the old home- 
 stead is sold, it was as much for your sake as 
 for our own. She is such good company, that 
 your father used to say, 'The sun always 
 shines where Lucy is ; • so also grandpa, when 
 he missed her from his room, would ask, 
 ' Does it rain ? * When told that it did not, 
 he would say, ' I missed the sunshine ' ! " 
 
 " How soon will it be the tenth of the 
 month, mother ? " asked the little girl. " I 
 wish it were to-morrow, so that I could see 
 Aunt Lucy." 
 
 " You will see her, I hope, in &ree days, 
 my love. On Thursday morning you and I 
 will arrange her room as nicely as we can, 
 and then ride down to the station for her." 
 
 " Mother," asked Bessie, " do you think 
 
AUNT LUCY. 9 
 
 Aunt Lucy knows any stories ? I nave yours 
 all by heart now." 
 
 " Bessie," cried Mrs. Carrol, " I forgot 
 to tell you that she is the very queen of story- 
 tellers ! When we were children at home, 
 as you three are now, she, being the oldest, 
 used to relate us the most interesting stones 
 I ever heard. If we were good at home and 
 faithful at school, our reward from this loving 
 sister was a story. Our nursery in the old 
 square homestead had a broad open fireplace. 
 We children, nine in number, used to gather 
 there at nightfall, and form a circle around 
 the blazing logs, — for we wanted no other 
 light, — and listen to her tales. Then we 
 used to sing together, and sometimes tell anec- 
 dotes and guess riddles. Thus we spent an 
 hour after tea. Then the three boys younger 
 than Lucy went down stairs to their books, 
 and Lucy would put us to bed, and, holding 
 Dur little hands in her .own^ hear our evening 
 prayers. Then she would give us a sweet 
 
10 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 kiss, and go down-stairs to sew for us long 
 after we were fast asleep. She is still the 
 same sweet unselfish creature, although forty- 
 fivo years of toil and anxiety have passed 
 away." 
 
 " Mother, you always put us to bed, and 
 hear our prayers, and tell us stories, why did- 
 n't your mother do so for her children, instead 
 of Aunt Lucy ? " 
 
 " Because, my love, she was a very feeble 
 woman, and in those days always had a young 
 babe that required her care at that hour. It 
 ?vas a great blessing to her as well as to us 
 that God gave such a sweet child and sister as 
 Lucy. Do you wonder I love her now, Bes- 
 sie ? " asked Mrs. Carrol. 
 
 " No indeed, mother dear ; and even if she 
 should be a little bit cross, I mean to love her 
 too for being so kind to my dear mother when 
 she was a little girl," said Bessie. 
 
 Mrs. Carrol smiled at her affectionate child, 
 and said, " I'm not at all afraid but you'll 
 
AUNT LUCY 11 
 
 love her for her own sake, Bessie. She is one 
 of those who carry their welcome in their 
 smile." 
 
 " I mean to tell Ned and Jennie all you 
 have said, just as soon as they come home 
 from school," said Bessie. "It will make 
 them happy, I know ; for although they both 
 told me she was a very good Auntie, I could 
 see, mother, that they were a little afraid of 
 her, because she was an old maid. You know 
 Neddie took down the swing we had in the 
 garret yesterday." 
 
 " Why was that, my love ? " asked the 
 mother. 
 
 At this moment the children entered. 
 
 " Oh, here you are home again, little dears. 
 I was just asking Bessie - why you took your 
 swing down, Neddie." 
 
 " Because it was right over Aunt Lucy's 
 chamber, and he was afraid it might worry her 
 to hear our feet on the floor " replied Bessie. 
 
 " I am delighted to know that my dear bov 
 
12 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 was so thoughtful and so polite. It is always 
 proper to regard the comforts of others, es- 
 pecially of guests ; and one who does such a 
 delicate act of kindness when only nine years 
 old, will surely make a gentleman when he 
 grows up. I think dear Neddie is trying to 
 fulfill the law of love about which you have 
 been studying. Come here, my boy." 
 
 " Will auntie have to be an old maid always, 
 mother?" asked Bessie. "Now that grand- 
 ma and grandpa are gone, and she is not 
 needed in your home, I should think she 
 might get married ; and then she couldn't be 
 called an old maid any more." 
 
 "My love," replied Mrs. Carrol, "your 
 aunt has not the least objection to being 
 called thus. She would but laugh at it. It 
 is only silly women, who, having grown old, 
 rebel against what is the lot of all, — who try, 
 by girlish airs and youthful dress, to appear 
 young still, that take offense at mention of 
 this. Still it is very rude and unkind to al- 
 
AUNT LUCY. 13 
 
 hide to their situation, because we may wound 
 their feelings without knowing it." 
 
 " How, mother ? " asked Jennie. 
 
 " Why, my love, we do not know what lies 
 buried in their hearts. Almost every maiden 
 lady I ever knew had some sad reason locked 
 up in her bosom for walking alone through 
 life." 
 
 " What is Miss Morse's secret, mother ? " 
 asked Bessie. 
 
 " Well, my love, if I could be sure neither 
 of you would ever mention it among the schol- 
 ars, I would tell you." 
 
 " We never will, mother ; for we would not 
 grieve her for anything," said Jennie. 
 
 " Well, dears, eleven years ago, — Jennie, 
 it was when you were a tiny .baby, — Mary 
 Morse lived in the large house opposite us, 
 and was thought by all her friends to be an 
 heiress. She was about to be married, and 
 had her wedding-dress all ready ; when, to 
 the astonishment of everybody, her father 
 
14 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 failed in business. It was through the rash 
 ness of his partner rather than for any fault 
 of his own ; but he was so honorable and con- 
 scientious, that he gave up his own personal 
 property to his creditors, and began life again 
 as a clerk in the very store where he had 
 made his fortune.* He was not ashamed to do 
 so, and probably never dreamed that any body 
 would be ashamed of him ; but he was mis 
 taken there. People who esteemed the fam- 
 ily expressed their pleasure that Mary was so 
 soon to have a fine home into which she could 
 receive the family. But, dear children, al- 
 though the wedding-day was set, and the wed- 
 ding-ring bought, poor Mary never saw the 
 faithless young man she expected to marry, 
 until a whole year had passed away ! " • 
 
 " What had become of him ? " asked Ned. 
 
 " He was at home, only ten miles off; but 
 when he knew there was no money coming to 
 Mary, he cared no more for her ; and at the 
 end of the year, when the creditors took pos- 
 
AUNT LUCY. 15 
 
 session of the estate, he actually took his 
 bride there to look at it, and bought it at the 
 auction ! Now, darlings, do you not think it 
 would be cruel to make any remark to Miss 
 Morse which should bring all this back to her 
 mind ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, mother," said Jennie. 
 
 " Why did not Aunt Lucy marry ? " asked 
 Ned. 
 
 " For the simple reason, my boy, that she 
 chose to live single. In her girlhood, she de- 
 voted herself to her brothers and sisters, and 
 in maturer years, to her aged parents. Was- 
 n't that noble ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, it was," replied Jennie. 
 
 " Miss Morse and your \ Aunt Lucy are not 
 ashamed of their years," said Mrs. Carrol. 
 " Nobody ever saw them painting their faces 
 to deceive people, but they have learned the 
 rare and beautiful art, how to ' grow old 
 gracefully.' Do you understand that, Jennie 
 and Ned ? " 
 
16 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 " Certainly, dear mother," replied the eld- 
 est little girl ; " and I am quite impatient to 
 see dear auntie." 
 
 " There is the dinner-bell," cried Ned, 
 springing up and clapping his hands. And 
 with the appetite which fresh air and bright 
 spirits bring, they bounded out to the gate to 
 meet their father, whom they saw from the 
 window. 
 
 " Oh, pa, we are so happy about Aunt 
 Lucy's coming to live with us ! " cried Jennie. 
 " Mother has just been telling us all about 
 her." 
 
 " Good friends are a great blessing, my 
 dears," said the father ; " and your aunt is a 
 lovely woman and a devoted Christian. If 
 you desire to know and love God, you will find 
 her a great help to you. She has had a hard 
 life, but no one would ever learn it from her, 
 — she is always so bright and cheerful. God's 
 will is her will ; so she sees no cause for mur- 
 muring." 
 
MAPLE HILL NURSERY. 17 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 MAPLE HILL NURSERY. 
 
 Thursday morning dawned bright and 
 clear, and the little Carrols were up with 
 the larks. While their mother was busied 
 with her morning duties, the children cut 
 baskets full of flowers, with which to deco- 
 rate the chamber of the dear expected guest. 
 They were allowed the privilege of doing this 
 themselves, according to their own taste ; so 
 while the little white fingers of Bessie were 
 busy over the vases, Jennie^ was festooning the 
 white muslin curtains with roses, and looping 
 them up with garlands of flowers. Childlike, 
 they fancied the more they trimmed the furni- 
 ture the finer it would appear ; so, every con- 
 ceivable nook and corner was made to hold a 
 vase or goblet, and every glass or picture to 
 
18 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 bear a wreath. Their mother was surprised 
 at the neatness and skill with which the work 
 was accomplished ; and when called up to 
 give her opinion of it, said, " I really think 
 you have been partial to your aunt ! How 
 would you like to transfer a few bouquets 
 and wreaths to my room, and thus give dear 
 father a surprise when he goes up-stairs to- 
 night ? " 
 
 The children thought this a charming idea, 
 and, as it was nearly their school-hour, 
 gave their mother leave to take out as 
 many of their decorations as she thought 
 could be spared from Auntie's room for her 
 own. 
 
 Mrs. Carrol was too wise a woman to crowd 
 the brains of her young children with every 
 study taught in schools, caring far more to 
 have them strong than " forward," as many 
 wise children are called. Bessie had been at 
 school one term ; but not being well, her 
 parents kept her at home now, where she 
 
MAPLE HILL NURSERY. 19 
 
 studied one hour with her mother, and the 
 rest of the day with the birds and flowers. 
 How sweet those lessons were ! All nature, 
 whether animate or inanimate, has lessons for 
 man, and these her mother explained to her. 
 When Bessie pointed to an ant-hill, with its 
 thousand little toilers, and stepped aside rather 
 than crush them, her mother would say, 
 " Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain 
 mercy ; " and remind her how the wise man 
 bids the sluggard go to the little ant to learn 
 her ways and be wise. When she came in with 
 delight to say that the lilies had blossomed, she 
 was taught to repeat the sweet words of Jesus 
 to his anxious disciples : " Consider the lilies of 
 the field, how they grow, they toil not, neither 
 do they spin; and yet I say unto you, that 
 even Solomon, in all his glory, was not ar- 
 rayed like one of these. Wherefore if God 
 so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day 
 is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall 
 he not much more clothe you ? " Thus, al- 
 
20 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 though little Bessie did not go to school, she 
 was gaining every day both health and wis- 
 dom. 
 
 Well, on this lovely spring morning when 
 all was in order at home, and Ned and Jennie 
 had gone to school, Mrs. Carrol had u Billy 
 Gray" harnessed into the family carriage, 
 and she and Bessie went to meet Aunt Lucy 
 at the railway station. 
 
 When the whizzing and rattling of the train 
 were heard in the distance, they both stood 
 upon the platform looking up the road to catch 
 the first sight of its approach. Mrs. Carrol 
 felt very sad, for she realized that the pleasure 
 she expected was only obtained by the death 
 of her beloved parents ; and that in Aunt 
 Lucy's leaving the homestead, it was closed 
 for ever' as her home, Bessie looked a little 
 3ad too, for she was not yet quite sure that 
 she should be pleased with her aunt, although 
 well convinced that she was very good. But 
 little hearts ask more than this ; they expect 
 
MAPLE HILL NURSERY. 21 
 
 their friends to be also kind and genial in their 
 manners. 
 
 When the cars stopped, Bessie looked among 
 the passengers for a tall, gaunt, homely lady 
 in deep mourning ; but she looked in vain. In 
 a moment, however, she saw her mother throw 
 her arms around the neck of quite a different- 
 looking person. Mrs. Carrol could not speak, 
 for the tears which fell fast choked her voice. 
 But Aunt Lucy spoke in a low, sweet, tone, 
 smiling through her tears, and asked, " Is this 
 my little Bessie, whom I named for grand- 
 ma?" The little girl kissed her, and felt, as 
 she looked in her fair face, as if she had known 
 her always. 
 
 While they are riding honie, we will tell the 
 young reader how Miss Thorne did look. She 
 was short and plump, with a face which was 
 made to smile. Her eyes were of no partic- 
 ular color, but so clear and deep that you 
 could see the very heart through them, and 
 know that all was sincere within. In youth, 
 
22 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 she had been handsome, and now, although 
 the clear complexion was marred by time, and 
 the brow lined by a few wrinkles, still the rose 
 bloomed on her cheek; and her fine teeth, 
 which she displayed freely every time she 
 smiled, gave her such a happy, cheerful ex- 
 pression that, but for her bright gray curls, 
 one might almost have believed her yet a 
 girl. 
 
 Oh, what delight the Carrol children had 
 in listening to the conversation of their aunt 
 and mother, about the people and the scenes 
 of by-gone days ! Before bed-time came, on 
 the first evening after Miss Thome's arrival, 
 the children had ail decided that it was 
 the finest thing in the world to have an aunt 
 to live with them. Ned remarked, that hav- 
 ing Auntie there, was " like having company 
 all the time." 
 
 " Auntie," said little Bessie, " mother called 
 you the ' queen of story-tellers ; ' she says the 
 most interesting she ever heard were those you 
 
MAPLE HILL NURSERY. 23 
 
 used to tell by the nursery fire when she was 
 little. I suppose you've forgotten them all 
 now, haven't you ? " 
 
 " Oh, no indeed, darling," cried Aunt 
 Lucy ; " my memory is too good for that ! " 
 
 " How I wish we could hear one of the 
 very stories you used to tell your brothers 
 and sisters ! " said Ned. 
 
 " Ned, they would not sound the same to 
 us as they did to ma, in the fire-light, with old 
 Mark Antony the watch-dog and Cleopatra 
 the house-cat snoring and purring on the rug, 
 and so many children gathered round them," 
 replied Jennie. 
 
 " Don't your dog and cat snore and purr ? " 
 asked Auntie, in a tone sc> amusing that the 
 children all laughed. 
 
 " Oh, yes, but we have no hearth-rug with 
 a meeting-house on it for them to lie on, no 
 wood-fire to light the room, no shining brass 
 andirons to see our faces in, broader than 
 they are long," said Jennie. 
 
24 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 " I'm not sure about that," said Aunt Lucy s 
 looking very wise. " We shall see, after I gex 
 rested from my journey. Let us thank God, 
 darlings, that he has preserved us all to meet 
 here in your sweet home. I don't know of 
 a greater blessing any one can have in after- 
 life, than the memory of a happy home in 
 childhood. I often sit at my work for hours 
 thinking over the days of my childhood on 
 Maple Hill, and find a sweet relief from present 
 care and trouble. I would not have those 
 scenes and the sweet faces that mingle with 
 them blotted out for all the money old Billy 
 Gray could draw." 
 
 " Well, Auntie, when you do get rested 
 enough to tell us stories, will you let me invite 
 Hattie Baxter and her brother Joe in to hear 
 them ? They have no mother," said Jennie. 
 
 " Indeed I will, my love," replied Aunt- 
 Lucy. 
 
 " And perhaps," said Mr. Carrol, who had 
 been listening in silence, " you will also admit 
 
MAPLE HELL NURSERY. 25 
 
 mother and me. That would be almost as 
 large an audience as you used to have at 
 Maple Hill." 
 
 " Oh, I'll let you all in," said Aunt Lucy 
 in a merry voice. " I think I shall have to 
 call my room ' the nursery.' " 
 
 " But, father, I'm afraid, if you and mother 
 are there, the stories will be too wise for us ; 
 I'm sure Bessie won't understand them," Jen- 
 nie said. 
 
 " mother, hear that ! " cried Bessie. " I 
 guess I can understand a good deal ; can't I, 
 mother ? " 
 
 " Indeed you can, my love. Auntie can 
 tell stories which will suit us all. I've often 
 thought that you are interested in the same 
 books which please Jennie and Ned." . 
 
 " Yes," replied Bessie gravely, " and I 
 never care for stories that begin, ' Once upon 
 a time.' I like sensible talk as well as other 
 foik3, if I am little ; don't I, mother ? " 
 
 "Yes, dear, you do," replied Mrs. Carrol, 
 
26 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 while the rest all laughed heartily at the little 
 girl's earnest defense of her own powers of 
 comprehension. 
 
 " Well, Pet," said Aunt Lucy, " if you don't 
 understand the first, I will tell one on purpose 
 for you ! " 
 
 " But I can understand, Auntie," persisted 
 
 " So you can, dear," said her mother. 
 " You know and love many things which wise 
 men turn away from and of which they die in 
 ignorance." 
 
 Friday and Saturday passed and nothing 
 more had been said about Aunt Lucy's stories, 
 and these children were too good to tease and 
 worry about any pleasure which had been 
 promised them. They noticed that their aunt 
 and mother seemed very busy up-stairs on 
 Saturday afternoon ; and that they had some 
 subject of conversation which they chose to 
 keep to themselves. So they asked no ques- 
 tions, feeling quite sure that if it were prop- 
 
MAPLE HILL NURSERY. 27 
 
 er for them to do so, they should soon hear 
 all about it. How happy such children can 
 make a whole family ! Obedience and re- 
 spect win the love of all, and are pleasing 
 to the Holy One who gives to children their 
 home and their friends. 
 
 \ 
 
38 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 RESPECT FOB THE AGED. — THE STORY »» 
 SALLY BROWN. 
 
 A cold summer rain was falling, and the 
 east wind blowing without. After tea and 
 lessons were over on Monday evening, Aunt 
 Lucy said, " I shall be very happy to see any 
 one who wants to hear a story in my cham- 
 ber now." 
 
 Ned caught his cap, and darted off to in- 
 vite their little motherless neighbors, the Bax- 
 ters, and Jennie and Bessie waited his return 
 at the front door. When they arrived, they all 
 went up, and, as polite children will always do 
 before entering a private apartment, knocked 
 at the door. Aunt Lucy opened it herself; 
 and with a pleasant smile said, " Walk in, 
 little folks, to the old nursery of Maple Hill!" 
 
RESPECT FOR THE AGED. 25 
 
 The Carrol children looked amazed, hardly 
 knowing where they were. The fire-board — 
 they had forgotten that there was an open 
 fireplace in the house — had been removed, 
 and there, supported on great brass andirons, 
 were sticks of wood burning brightly, sizzling, 
 roaring, and sending up sparks in a way to 
 surprise as well as to cheer modern children on 
 a night like this. On the mantle-piece towered 
 up tall candlesticks, in which candles were 
 burning. Little chairs and stools were placed 
 around the fire, and on these Auntie asked her 
 guests to be seated. What was their amaze- 
 ment to behold the very rug, which they knew 
 by the description used to lie before Ifche fire 
 at Maple Hill ; and on it — looking not a little 
 surprised by this attention — Pompey and 
 Grizzle ! 
 
 Mrs. Carrol soon explained that the old rug 
 came round an article of furniture which was 
 sent her from her early home ; and that she 
 borrowed the andirons and candlesticks. 
 
60 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 " Now, then," said the kind aunt, " I am 
 ready to tell you one of my stories. It will 
 be rather hard to interest two such wise folks 
 as Mr. and Mrs. Carrol, and at the same time 
 to please little ones ; but I will do the best I 
 can, First I will tell you the story of one I 
 used to know, but whom I never could love 
 after I heard her history. I could give you 
 a more amusing one ; but on the whole this 
 seems the best to begin with. It will teach 
 you lessons of respect and gratitude to the 
 aged, a class whom God tenderly regards, 
 and whom he has commanded us to honor. 
 How much my dear mother used to lean on 
 God's promises to the aged ! How often she 
 used to say, — 
 
 E'en down to old age all my children shall prove 
 My sovereign, eternal, unchangeable love ; 
 And when hoary hairs shall their temples adorn, 
 Like lambs in my bosom they still shall be borne. r 
 
RESPECT FOR THE AGED. 81 
 SALLY BROWN. 
 
 " Many years ago there stood a humble little 
 cottage in a western forest. A circular spot 
 had been cleared for it, but all around the 
 large oaks stretched out their arms and 
 seemed to grasp each other, thus forming a 
 roof 'Over the lowly dwelling. The blue sky 
 could be seen here and there through the 
 ever-fluttering leaves, and the birds built their 
 nests in the branches and sung merrily there. 
 The leaves of the silver birch kept up their 
 unceasing dance in the light breeze, the wild 
 flowers grew in profusion, and the young 
 pines shed their fragrance around the place. 
 You would have almost thought that little 
 opening in the deep forest to be a scene in 
 fairy land, so laden was it with the beauties 
 which deck that fabled region. But the house 
 which stood within it in no way resembled a 
 fairy palace. Its structure was of the rud- 
 est kind, and the shed which stood beside it 
 
32 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 looked frail indeed. This sheltered the stock 
 of the little farm, consisting of a cow, pig, 
 and an aged horse. The dwelling contained 
 bat one room, and a garret which was reached 
 by a rude ladder. The room had one window 
 m front and one behind, and in summer these 
 were always covered with the meek morning 
 glory and gaudy nasturtium vine. The little 
 plot before the door was smooth, and made 
 soft with the sheddings of the pine for many 
 a year. Altogether the place wore the aspect 
 of poverty, but the aged couple who dwelt 
 there knew it not. They had been poor 
 through a long life of toil and sorrow ; but 
 now, when their sun was setting, they felt very 
 rich. By the labor of their own hands they 
 had built this lowly home for their old age, 
 and paid for two acres of land surrounding 
 it. True, the chimney was made of stones 
 and clay, and looked very rough, and the floor 
 was of unplaned boards ; but, for all this, 
 many a rich neighbor who smiled scornfully 
 
BESPECT FOR THE AGED. 33 
 
 as he passed might have envied the peace and 
 happiness enjoyed around that unhewn hearth- 
 stone. 
 
 ." These worthy people had reared a large 
 family, but their children had fallen one by 
 one, till they were left in their old age without 
 one arm on which to lean. But no murmur 
 ever rose from their lips, no doubt ever marred 
 their faith in God's mercy for the future. 
 
 " The meek-spirited woman, now too old to 
 toil hard for the neighbors, as she had been 
 wont, plied steadily her knitting-needles, and 
 thus helped to earn the few comforts they 
 needed. Her companion, cheerful and active, 
 although the frosts of seventy winters lay 
 heavy on his head, wove corn baskets for the 
 neighboring farmers. When the light faded 
 away, the old man would seat himself on the 
 broad hearth and plait his baskets by the light 
 of the hemlock branches which blazed and 
 crackled there. Then they talked of their 
 many mercies, and sung songs of praise to 
 
 3 
 
34 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 Grod, who had not left them when gray hairs 
 were upon them. 
 
 " And thus in simple love and quiet faith the 
 aged pair had lived several years previous to 
 the death of their last child. She was poor, 
 and died far from home, where she had gone 
 to earn her bread. She left a helpless child 
 with no friend near but a careless and indo- 
 lent father. He carried it at once to the 
 grandparents, expecting no doubt a rebuke 
 for casting it off. But no ; they knew that 
 he would not rear the child in the fear of 
 God, and so they were thankful to take her. 
 " Sally was a sweet and gentle child, and 
 very soon the old people began to wonder how 
 they had ever lived alone so long. As she 
 grew, she learned to lighten in many little 
 ways the toil of her grandmother, and always 
 cheered with her singing voice the labor of 
 the old basket-maker, when he went into the 
 wood to gather his basket stuff. She loved 
 to run to the brook near by for a little pail 
 
RESPECT FOR THE AGED. 35 
 
 of water, and to the grove for brushwood, and 
 altogether she was a good and useful child. 
 They taught her themselves to read, for the 
 school was a long way off, so that she could 
 only go a few weeks in summer. But these 
 good people well knew that she ought to learn 
 far more than they could teach her, that she 
 might be useful in the world, and often talked 
 together about it. This surprised Sally, as 
 she had thought her grandparents very wise, 
 and she said, ' Oh, Grandfather, I know a 
 great deal. I can read my primer nearly 
 through, and all the learning I shall need to 
 take care of you will be to read the Bible. 
 If anybody would make a lady of me, I would 
 not go away ; for I should never find such a 
 beautiful home as this, nor any one so dear 
 and good as you and grandma.' 
 
 " And thus the bright summers and the cold 
 winters passed away ; and Sally was now four- 
 teen years old. Then came a gayly-dressed 
 cousin from a distant city, to visit the old peo- 
 
36 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 pie. She had been a playmate of Sally's 
 mother, and took much notice of the child. 
 She told her how very handsome she was, and 
 how much better she would look, if she had fine 
 dresses and bonnets. Sally was not a little 
 surprised at this, as she considered her red 
 calico gown with its orange-colored flowers 
 very elegant, and knew how many pairs of 
 stockings she and her grandmother had knit to 
 purchase it. But this new cousin was the 
 greatest lady she had ever seen, so she must 
 be a good judge ; and she began to be ashamed 
 of her high-necked and short-waisted dress, 
 which but a week before called forth such 
 simple pride and such gratitude to her grand- 
 mother. 
 
 " This cousin was the wife of a man who, 
 although coarse and ignorant, had by a sudden 
 speculation grown rich. She had no children 
 of her own, and when she saw Sally, with her 
 sweet face and pleasing manners, she wished 
 to take her home. At first the old people de- 
 
RESPECT FOB THE AGED. 37 
 
 clared they could not part with her, and she, 
 that she would not leave them to go away with 
 the queen. But promises were made of giving 
 Sally a good education, so that in three or four 
 years she could return and teach the village 
 school. This seemed to the old people the 
 highest pinnacle of grandeur, and they gave 
 a reluctant consent to her departure. The 
 cousin promised to send Sally regularly to 
 church and Sabbath-school, and to teach her 
 the holy lessons of love and truth. But alas 
 for all these promises! she herself was a 
 stranger to God's word and to his sanctuary. 
 " Sally was soon three hundred miles away 
 from her best friends, and exposed to all kinds 
 of temptation. At first she used to object to 
 many things which she feared would displease 
 her absent guardians. But she was laughed 
 at, and told that her grandparents were igno- 
 rant, backwoods people, who knew nothing 
 about the gay city. Such remarks at first 
 deeply pained the young girl, for she felt that 
 
38 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 in listening to them she was injuring those who 
 amid great sacrifices had protected her in her 
 helplessness. But the human heart when left 
 to itself is very ungrateful and very deceitful ; 
 and Sally, being young, was soon drawn away 
 into vanity, and forgot the words of warning 
 and of prayer she had heard so often at the 
 fireside in the old cot. She soon began to 
 dress like her superiors, and to affect a great 
 many airs which nature never gave her. Then 
 she looked back in scorn upon the happy days 
 she had passed in the depth of that old forest, 
 saying, ' I shall be wretched when I go back 
 to my home again.' 
 
 " c I mean you shall never go back again,' 
 said the rich cousin, ' and I am sorry that the 
 old people seem so impatient to see you. It is 
 of no use to keep writing all the time to them. 
 They will die soon, at any rate ; so if you go 
 back, you can not be with them long. Why, 
 there would not be room enough in the whole 
 house for you ; — how could you ever climb up 
 
RESPECT FOR THE AGED. 39 
 
 that rough ladder to go to bed, after having 
 had such a large chamber all to yourself ? ' 
 Such were the lessons of neglect and scorn 
 which were daily given to Sally as she grew 
 to womanhood, and they were about all the 
 lessons she received,— gaudy dresses, and gay 
 company absorbing her time and thoughts. 
 
 " All this time the heart of Sally was grow- 
 ing harder and harder ; but those of the aged 
 friends were beating with anticipation of her 
 return. Week after week they suffered dis- 
 appointment in not hearing from her, and then 
 they would flatter themselves that she was on 
 her way to them, and thought to give them a 
 joyful surprise. But four long years rolled 
 away, and she had not come. Her last letters 
 were short, and exhibited none of her former 
 impatience to see them. They grew weary 
 and heart-sick from hope deferred. They 
 feared that their own simple letters had failed 
 to express the deep longings of their hearts for 
 her company and care, which they greatly 
 
40 MAPLE HILL* 
 
 needed. So they opened their hearts to the 
 schoolmaster, asking him to write a letter for 
 them, which he gladly did. Now they were 
 very sure that such an eloquent appeal would 
 bring back an answer speedily. Poor, fond 
 hearts ! It was cruel beyond degree thus to 
 cast them off when their strength failed. But 
 Sally, the little outcast child whom they had 
 fondly reared, and over whose sick pillow they 
 had sat many a long night, had hardened her 
 heart to do it. The humble home which had 
 seemed like paradise to them began to look 
 gloomy, and they resolved to sell it and set off 
 in search of their lost darling ; for they feared 
 that some evil, perhaps death, had befallen 
 her. It would have been a great undertaking 
 for the young to travel in a mail-coach drawn 
 by four strong horses, several hundred miles ; 
 what then was it for this couple, of fourscore 
 years, in an old chaise drawn by a very vener- 
 able horse ! 
 
 " After weeks of travel and weariness, they, 
 
RESPECT FOR THE AGED. 41 
 
 one bright spring afternoon, entered the gay 
 city ; and we are sure they and their equipage 
 attracted some attention. They made con- 
 stant inquiries until they found the street in 
 which Sally lived. They rode up toward the 
 house, just as Sally was parting on the steps 
 with some of her friends. ' Oh, do look at 
 that old horse and chaise,' she cried ; ' I be- 
 lieve Adam and Eve have risen from the dead ; 
 or have two mummies from the Egyptian cata- 
 combs emigrated to this country ? Do look at 
 the old man's bell-crowned hat, and at the pile 
 of capes on his old coat.' But, as they all 
 gazed rudely at the modest pair, the old square- 
 top chaise, with its rude, unpainted shafts, 
 drew up to the door. i Is this Number 13 ? ' 
 shouted the grandfather. Sally turned pale as 
 she answered him, ' It is.' He replied" with 
 a smile, ' Then I suppose you are our dear 
 child, Sally Brown ! God in heaven bless you, 
 child, — come, help your grandmother out of 
 the shay, for she's a'most wore out. We was 
 
42 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 determined to find you, darling, if alive ; and 
 if dead, to be buried aside of you.' 
 
 " Sally did not move, and the poor old woman 
 got out as well as she could with her husband's 
 help, and began to embrace her in the fondest 
 manner. Sally's visitors, being mean and 
 cruel enough to ridicule the aged and poor, 
 whom the Almighty bids us to honor, had not 
 of course delicacy enough to leave now, but 
 stood waiting to have the mystery explained. 
 
 " They could scarcely believe it when they 
 learned that these were the grandparents of 
 one so elegant as they thought her to be, and 
 did not fail to spread the news wherever thej 
 called of the arrival of Sally Brown's beggai 
 friends, and of her mortification at their ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 " The reception which the aged couple me' 
 with at the city cousin's was exceedingly cold 
 and they soon felt that they must find a hom< 
 somewhere else. Three hundred dollars whicl 
 they had procured from the sale of their littL 
 
RESPECT FOR THE AGED. 43 
 
 'arm enabled them to hire and furnish a cheer- 
 ul room. But the coolness of their reception 
 *ave a wound to the heart of the grandmother, 
 vhich she had not strengcL to overcome. No 
 lubsequent attention from x t niece or from 
 Sally could erase from her memory that first 
 ;ruel meeting. The summer and the long 
 winter following wore away, and they had 
 jvery comfort, but hope had fled from the 
 jheerful breast of the worthy woman. Her 
 spirit was crushed, for she felt that the only 
 )eing in the world on whom she had a claim 
 jyas ashamed of her. Sally looked like a lady ; 
 Dut if true politeness had had any place in her 
 aeart, she could never have dealt thus with 
 the aged, even had they been strangers. 
 Sometimes she called on her grandparents, 
 and offered to assist them, but said she could 
 not do much, as she herself was dependent. 
 But this was her own choice, for God had 
 given her health and ability to labor ; but she 
 preferred a life of vanity and idleness to one 
 
44 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 of usefulness and gratitude. The feeble pai 
 felt deeply that she was no longer their child 
 and her patronizing visits were a restrain 
 rather than a comfort. 
 
 " They were not suffered to be a burden t< 
 any, for before their money was gone they botl 
 fell asleep. They entered the home when 
 the lowliest child meets with a cordial we] 
 come. ' Come, ye blessed of my Father, in 
 herit the kingdom prepared for you.' Neve 
 more can their loving hearts be disturbed b; 
 ingratitude, neglect, or scorn ! 
 
 " I'm sure, dear children," said Aunt Lucj 
 " you think that what little treasures these ol< 
 people had, were left to others rather than t 
 this ungrateful child. But it was not so ; the; 
 loved her still, and, cruel as she had been, he 
 happiness was very dear to them. A hundrei 
 dollars and the simple furniture with whic! 
 they had kept house were left after their fu 
 neral expenses were paid, and Sally, who no^ 
 called herself i Sarah,' lost no time in turning 
 
RESPECT FOR THE AGED. 45 
 
 all she could into money. With this she pur- 
 shased a watch and chain, ear-rings and gold 
 bracelets ; so that Peggy Blunt, the old wo- 
 man who lived in the next room, and who had 
 ione for the old people what Sally should have 
 lone in their sickness and death, said, ' That 
 are vain cretur has got the cooking-stove 
 round her neck, and all the rest of the furni- 
 ture in her ears and on her wrists.' 
 
 " How truly does a love of dress and of vain 
 company blot out sincerity, gratitude, and all 
 that makes woman loved and blessed. Beware 
 of the spirit which tempts the young to indulge 
 in ridicule and sarcastic jests against those 
 whom the Lord tenderly loves and watches 
 over, — against any of his creatures. The 
 flight of years has made great changes around 
 the home of Sally's childhood. The little set- 
 tlement is now a large city, and the deep for- 
 est where the little cot stood is covered with 
 houses and gardens. But years can never 
 change the past for her, nor efface from her 
 
46 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 mind her cruel treatment of those faithf 
 friends. The memory of those patient hi 
 sorrowful faces, we doubt not, often visits h( 
 dreams and disturbs her waking hours. Be 
 ter had it been for her had she spent her li: 
 with them in simple love and usefulness. 
 
 " And that is nearly all I know about Sal] 
 Brown," said Aunt Lucy. " She became a 
 quainted with a silly young man, who, findir 
 she despised labor, and had declared she nev< 
 would marry a mechanic , left his trade - 
 house-painting — and went into a small dr; 
 goods store as a clerk. Then they were ma 
 ried, and Sally, fancying she was a merchant 
 wife, came out in plumes and flowers and lace 
 and a great costly velvet shawl ! But by ac 
 by these had to be paid for ; and then she foui] 
 •out that her husband's income was only hal 
 what it was when he did his honest day's woi 
 with pot and brush. He soon had to go bac 
 to them ; and then people said he used to sli 
 out of the basement door, like a thief, with h 
 
RESPECT FOR THE AGED. 47 
 
 paint-pot done up as one package, and his 
 overalls as another. They became very poor, 
 as people too proud to work always must, and 
 then Peggy Blunt said, c They can eat gold 
 watches and bracelets now ! ' 
 
 " Dear children," said Aunt Lucy, " I have 
 been so long the companion of the aged that I 
 have learned to love them all ; and nothing 
 grieves me more than to see one such coldly or 
 rudely treated. Let it be your principle 
 through life to add one grain, if no more, to 
 the' happiness of those who are going the down 
 hill of life. You will receive a rich reward in 
 their gratitude as well as in the approbation of 
 Him who has said, 'A hoary head is a crown of 
 glory when found in the way of righteousness.' 
 
 " And this is the end of Story Number One ! 
 To-morrow night, if we are all spared, I will tell 
 you one not so sad as this ; one of a dear child 
 who tried to do all in her power to make others 
 happy. Now a kiss from each, and then away 
 to blessed sleep and happy dreams." 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 KINDNESS TO THE POOR. — THE STORY OP OLD 
 KARL. 
 
 " What, has evening come so soon again ? " 
 asked Aunt Lucy, as her nieces and nephew, 
 the little Maxwells, and Lillie Emerson, an- 
 other guest, entered " Maple Hill Nursery,' ' 
 as her chamber was now called. " Well, truly 
 time flies ; and soon all our days will be 
 gone ! " 
 
 " Now for the story, dear Auntie," cried 
 Ned, rubbing his hands together impatiently. 
 
 " Some people," said Aunt Lucy, " think 
 that little children, and the poor especially, 
 can not do any good in the world. But we 
 will show them what one poor child did from 
 love in her heart." 
 
KINDNESS TO THE POOR. 49 
 
 OLD KARL. 
 
 " Far up among the Swiss Mountains may be 
 seen many little hamlets composed of cottages 
 occupied by humble shepherds and herdsmen. 
 In some of them, the lowly church is sur- 
 mounted by a cross, as a token that there 
 the Virgin Mary and other saints are wor- 
 shiped. But it is not so in all, for many 
 of these mountaineers are worshipers of the 
 only true God and Jesus Christ whom he has 
 sent. In one of these secluded villages, down 
 in a deep green valley, stands a little moss- 
 grown stone chapel, with a low square spire. 
 And it is just as well that the spire is low, 
 for the loftiest one could not point up so ef- 
 fectually to God as do those everlasting hills 
 which he has made. As you stand in the 
 humble graveyard, you read the names of the 
 dead painted on boards made in the form of 
 gravestones. There are words of love just 
 as fervent as if graven in costly marble, but 
 
 4 
 
50 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 they soon decay and fall to the ground. The 
 people do not earn enough money to enable 
 them to buy more durable monuments for 
 their friends, and, as they are satisfied with 
 these, it is just as well. 
 
 " If, standing here, you turn your eyes up- 
 ward, you see the snows which never melt, 
 while beneath your feet, the flowers are bloom- 
 ing and the vine bending under its wealth of 
 grapes. Summer and winter, seed-time and 
 harvest, seem to have met and shaken hands 
 on these beautiful mountains. 
 
 " The people in the little hamlet of which 
 we are now speaking are honest and simple- 
 hearted, living in the fear of God and loving 
 each other. There is one house much larger 
 and finer than the rest, and the man who 
 dwells there owns most of the flocks and 
 herds which graze in the valley, and the vine- 
 yards with which it abounds. These posses- 
 sions give employment to most of the cot- 
 tagers, who, by toil and strict economy, gain 
 
KINDNESS TO THE POOR. 51 
 
 the bare necessaries of life. But in one little 
 stone cot dwells a man whose day of toil is 
 over. His long life was passed among these 
 hills. In youth, by teaching the children, and 
 in old age, by loving and amusing them, he 
 had won every heart to himself. When the 
 people at length wanted a wiser teacher than 
 he for their children, they did not rudely cast 
 him off in his old age, but interceded for him 
 with the man at the ' high house,' as it was 
 called, and he became one of his shepherds. 
 Then would the children gather round him 
 before and after school, and listen to his words 
 of kind advice and to his tales of the olden 
 time. The little holiday sports were generally 
 before his cottage door, where he would allow 
 them to deck with wreaths the lambs of hiss 
 fold, and would himself sit down by the bright 
 spring and share their little feast. Do you 
 think old Karl was simple because he loved 
 children and strove to gather them around 
 him ? Ah j no, he was a very wise man, and 
 
52 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 did, far more good than thousands who teach 
 the wisdom of the world. 
 
 " One day a little girl made a wreath of 
 flowers, and, laughing, placed it on the old 
 man's head, saying, ' See, Father Karl, now 
 you are crowned for our king.' He smiled 
 and said, * My crown is far more beautiful 
 than those which monarchs wear. God alone 
 could make it, but any good goldsmith could 
 make a crown of gold and jewels. Besides, 
 crowns are very heavy, darlings, and not only 
 make the head ache, but also the heart, with 
 the weight of cares they bring. Oh, how 
 much I thank God that I am his child, — 
 old Karl, the mountain shepherd, — and not 
 a king or duke.' Then he led their minds 
 away from their play, and talked of Him who 
 wears an immortal crown in heaven, and who 
 might have worn an earthly one, but who, for 
 our sakes, chose to be poor that we might be 
 rich, — lowly, that we might be raised to a 
 seat at God's right hand. 
 
KINDNESS TO THE POOR. 53 
 
 " Karl once had a faithful wife, but she had 
 gone to heaven long ago, so he was quite 
 alone in the world ; but he was not at all 
 anxious for the future, for he said that as 
 his Father owned the whole world, there was 
 no danger that he should suffer or starve. 
 No wonder that the children loved the friend 
 who led them through such pleasant paths to 
 the Redeemer. 
 
 " Elise, the little maiden at the ' high house,' 
 loved to listen to his pleasant stories, although 
 she did not know as much about Jesus as did 
 the poorer children, nor love Karl for His 
 sake. She sometimes went to his home in 
 the valley, and gave him warm garments for 
 the winter, and nice food which he could not 
 afford to buy. If she had a little roll or a 
 basket of fruit for him, she would have it 
 carried by a servant, or send for him 'to 
 climb the steep hill to get it. 
 
 " There was another little girl who had the 
 same kind feelings towards the old man, but 
 
54 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 she had not the means of showing it in the 
 same way. Terese's father was poor. He 
 had a good flock of sheep, the wool of which 
 helped to clothe the little ones in winter. 
 Every week he killed a lamb, but as he had 
 no horse to carry it to market, Terese and 
 her brother took it in baskets four miles. In 
 summer they went through the road to the 
 nearest town, and in winter they strapped 
 their baskets to their shoulders and skated 
 there on the stream which ran through the 
 hills. This was a much quicker and easier 
 way, and one which is common in Germany 
 and Switzerland. But, with all this help, the 
 father found it very hard to provide food and 
 fuel to make them all comfortable. 
 
 "At last poor Karl became so feeble that 
 he could no longer take care of the sheep. 
 For many weeks he was quite helpless with 
 rheumatism brought on by sitting out all day 
 m the damp air. Then it was that he found 
 the value of the little friends he had gained. 
 
KINDNESS TO THE POOR. 55 
 
 lie had been a kind neighbor for years to 
 Terese's family, so the mother was willing to 
 work a little harder when he grew sick, that 
 her child might make up his bed and sweep 
 the cottage. One day she returned to her 
 home after having done this, and her mother 
 saw that she had been weeping. When she 
 asked the cause of her tears, Terese replied, 
 ' Oh, mother dear, I can do nothing for Karl. 
 He has no wife to care for him, and no 
 children to toil for him as my father has. 
 Why did God not give us large flocks and 
 herds and vineyards ? Then I could do some 
 good, but now I can not. While I was at the 
 cottage this morning, Elise came in with a 
 servant carrying a large basket. When she 
 took out all the nice things and put them 
 on the little table I had just scoured, she 
 said, " I brought you these, Father Karl, be- 
 cause I love you." The old man kissed her 
 white hand and asked, " Why do you love 
 me, daughter ? " " Because you tell me such 
 
56 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 beautiful stories about Willian Tell and Na- 
 poleon Bonaparte ; and I hope that these 
 good things will make you well, so that you 
 can tell me many more." Then he said, " \ 
 thank you for your love, daughter, and I will 
 keep it in my heart, but I wish it were be- 
 cause I told you beautiful stories of Christ, 
 that you loved me." ' 
 
 " ' I knew you would need me, dear mother, 
 so, as I was done, I came away while he was 
 talking so sweetly to Elise. She seemed im- 
 patient, and I am sure was not so well pleased 
 as she would have been with some other tale.' 
 
 " The mother did not seem to realize how 
 much Terese was really doing, any more than 
 did the child herself, but said, ' You must be 
 satisfied with the lot God has given you, my 
 good child.' 
 
 " The next day when her lowly duties were 
 all done, Terese went with the other children 
 to the old stone chapel to be catechized. The 
 aged pastor read the chapter in which Jesus, 
 
KINDNESS TO THE POOR. 57 
 
 to teach humility, washed the feet of his dis- 
 ciples, and said, ' If I then, your Lord and 
 Master, have washed your feet, ye ought also 
 to wash one another's feet. For I have given 
 you an example that you should do as I have 
 done to you.' 
 
 " Then the pastor told the little ones that any 
 humble service, even this, which Christ per- 
 formed for his disciples, would manifest our 
 humility and willingness to serve him. * God,' 
 he said, 6 does not need our service, for the 
 cattle on a thousand hills are his, and he could 
 feed and clothe all his poor without the aid of 
 any one. But if you really love him, you 
 will be watching for opportunities to show that 
 love. Christ has laid aside his mortal body 
 and gone to his glorious home on high. You 
 can not bathe his aching head, — you can not 
 remove his dust-soiled sandals, nor lave with 
 water his weary feet, — you can not give him 
 bread to eat or a place to lay his head. No, 
 lambs of my fold, you can do none of these 
 
58 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 things for the Redeemer in person, tut you can 
 do all these and many more for those whom he 
 calls members of his body. You can do it, — 
 you have done it. Many of you have left your 
 sports and gone to speak kind words, and to 
 perform little kind acts to the godly old Karl. 
 I thank you, my lambs. Jesus knows it, and 
 he will remember it in the great day, if you 
 did it from love to him.' 
 
 " After repeating their catechism, and joining 
 in prayer with the pastor, they went to their 
 homes. At the door of the chapel Terese met 
 Elise, who said with a smiling face, ' Ah, you 
 see pastor Schmitz heard that I was at Karl's 
 yesterday ! ' 
 
 :..*.* * Yes,' said the good little Terese, who did 
 not envy her neighbor, ' he has no doubt 
 heard it. It was very kind in you to leave 
 such a fine house, and go to that poor cottage, 
 and I thank you for it.' 
 
 " Now this dear child did not realize all this 
 time that she was doing far more for Father 
 
KINDNESS TO THE POOR. 59 
 
 Karl than was Elise. She would never have 
 crossed the hill alone to make his bed or scour 
 his floor or bring him water from the spring. 
 Ah, no ! this was not the work for those white 
 hands. There were few on earth who strove 
 to bathe the Saviour's feet, but many who 
 sought to place a temporal crown upon his 
 head. Elise belonged to this latter class. She 
 could praise her aged fried, she could crown 
 his head with flowers, or send him gifts which 
 cost no self-denial ; but the labor of Terese 
 was the same in character and prompted by 
 the same spirit as the washing of the disciples 
 and the anointing of the Saviour. Terese 
 understood what the good pastor had said, and 
 felt comforted. She called at the cottage on 
 her way, and repeated all she had heard to the 
 old man." 
 
 "Oh, what a sweet story that is, Auntie 
 dear," cried Jennie. " I could sit all night to' 
 hear you talk! " 
 
60 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 " Auntie," said Ned, " these two stories are 
 about girls. Won't you tell one about a boy 
 to-morrow night ? " 
 
 rt Yes, my dear, I will," replied the kind 
 Miss Thorne ; " and after this, if you wish, I 
 will tell a boy story every second evening. 
 But remember, Ned, that this one applies to 
 boys as well as to girls. You and your little 
 friend can split wood or shovel a path for some 
 poor widow, just as well as the girls can make 
 a garment or watch beside a sick-bed. ' Where 
 there's a will there's a way ' to be useful ; and 
 children who walk with their eyes open will be 
 sure to see work before them. If you stoop 
 and pick up a stick or a stone which lies in the 
 path of a lame or blind person, you do a very 
 little thing ; and yet Jesus will own it as an 
 act done to himself, if your spirit is right in 
 his sight." 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 TALE-BEARING. — STORY OF BIRSEY, THE 
 TATTLER. 
 
 "A boy's story to-night ?" asked Aunt 
 jucy. " Well, gather up to the little fire this 
 •amy evening ; for, as it is summer now, we 
 yon't play winter any more. You have now 
 in idea of the old nursery, with its wood-fire 
 tnd brass andirons. Bridget, not understand- 
 ng our sport, asked your mother 6 if Miss 
 Chorne was striving to roast the children en- 
 irely?'" 
 
 " I'm sure it has been cold enough for a fire 
 ;hese three evenings," said Jennie. 
 
 " I wish we could have fires all summer," 
 said Ned, " it makes the room so cheerful." 
 
 " I rather think you would not care for a 
 ire in August, my boy," said his mother. 
 
 " But now to our story." 
 
62 MAPLE HILL 
 
 BIRSEY, THE TATTLER. 
 
 " You know, my dears, the Word of God says, 
 * Thou shalt not go up and down as a tale-bearer 
 among thy people.' ' The words of a tale- 
 bearer are as wounds.' 
 
 " Tale-bearing, back-biting, and meddling in 
 the affairs of others, are not reckoned by the* 
 world among gross sins. They are often looked 
 upon only as acts of meanness, or impoliteness, 
 or the result of ill-breeding. But the Scrip- 
 tures speak plainly of these sins as hateful to 
 God, and as provoking his displeasure against 
 those who commit them. There can be no 
 true sincerity in the character where these are 
 a prevailing trait. Envy, jealousy, and hatred 
 are the bitter fountains, whence these dark 
 waters spring. The tale-bearer may flatter 
 himself that he speaks only truth of his neigh- 
 bors ; but the bare truth will not long satisfy 
 his growing desire for evil-speaking. Cruel 
 hints and insinuations will next follow, till he 
 
TALE-BEARING. 63 
 
 separates very friends ; and after that will come 
 deliberate falsehood, whereby the reputation of 
 another may be wholly blasted. * The words 
 of the tale-bearer are as wounds.' Who ever 
 loved a tale-bearer, a whisperer, or a busy- 
 body in other men's matters ? Every one 
 dreads his presence, and fears lest he himself 
 be the next victim of his slanderous tongue. 
 
 " History has brought down to us through 
 more than two long centuries the name of 
 Birsey Smith ; but a most unenviable fame is 
 his. Better far an honest oblivion ! From a 
 boy, he had been shunned for his mischief- 
 making propensities ; and of him it was true, 
 in a most unfortunate sense, that < the boy is 
 father of the man.' 
 
 " He was a cobbler by trade, and worked 
 around in the houses of the farmers ; although 
 it was only as a matter of necessity that 
 they employed him, so contemptible was his 
 reputation in the little community where he 
 dwelt. 
 
64 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 " He lived in Scotland, in times of persecu- 
 tion, when the good and holy were cast into 
 prison, or put to death for conscience' sake. 
 A bounty was offered for the conviction or de- 
 tection of any who worshiped God contrary to 
 the established order. Smith, who was mean, 
 covetous, and every way unlike what he should 
 have been, professed, about this time, a great 
 change of religious feeling, and desired to 
 unite himself to the outcast band of disciples. 
 With that charity which thinketh no evil, they 
 opened their arms to receive him. For what, 
 thought they, could induce a worldly man to 
 seek a position with God's afflicted ones — to 
 cast aside ease and safety, for poverty, perse- 
 cution, and hatred ? Before this, no man on 
 earth had loved him, unless it were a mother, 
 of which history does not tell us ; and people 
 who were forced to employ him set a double 
 watch on their lips and guarded the words of 
 their children while he was with them. 
 
 " Now ' Birsey,' as the boys scornfully called 
 
TALE-BEARING. 65 
 
 Smith, knew the religious belief of all in the 
 ■egion, and the business of informer was be- 
 aming profitable. He must be able to swear 
 o certain things considered disloyal, before he 
 :ould ' receive the wages of unrighteousness.' 
 [his he could easily do, could he but gain ad- 
 oittance to the hearts of his employers. And 
 pith this dark purpose he crept into the trem- 
 »ling fold. He attended the secret meetings 
 rhere, in darkness and fear, the lowly wor- 
 hipers lifted up their hearts to God, or lis- 
 ened to the gospel of love and peace. 
 
 " After he had gathered sufficient for his 
 rarpose, he carried the information to the au- 
 horities, and many were cast into prison ; while 
 he name of the traitor remained a secret. 
 
 " At one time there was a meeting of those 
 rhose * souls cried out after the Lord.' They 
 elt themselves to be in a ' dry and thirsty 
 and, where no water was ; ' and in their dis- 
 ress they remembered Him who smote the 
 •ock, and sent down manna from heaven. The 
 
 5 
 
66 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 place where they met was so rocky and broker 
 that they felt secure from assault. And there 
 they sat as in a heavenly place in Christ Jesus 
 They < sat under his shadow with great de- 
 light,' fearing no evil. 
 
 " But suddenly a cry resounded througr. 
 the rocky glen. ' The troops ! the troops ! ' 11 
 was the voice of Smith which gave the alarm j 
 and in a moment all was confusion and terror, 
 Aged men, whose limbs could no longer beaj 
 them swiftly, leaned on their staves, anc 
 peered into the darkness for some hole or cave 
 in which to hide. Timid maidens flew unpro 
 tected, like frightened fawns, over the broac 
 moor. Mothers with their babes, and father* 
 with their children, flew with almost super- 
 natural haste to their lowly homes. The lately 
 rapt band were scattered in all directions ; anc 
 yet none ever saw the foe. No troops hac 
 been in the region; and when Smith's false 
 report had scattered the assembly, he gatherec 
 up the shawls, cloaks, bonnets, bibles anc 
 
TALE-BEARING. 67 
 
 psalm-books, which had been left in the flight, 
 and bore them to his home as lawful booty. 
 
 " The eyes of the hunted Christians were 
 now open, and they saw that a serpent had been 
 cherished in their bosoms. He was despised 
 more than ever by all the neighborhood, what- 
 ever their religious standing. Thenceforth he 
 was a hissing and a by-word; for he had 
 added to all his former crimes this Judas-like 
 act against the oppressed Christians. 
 
 " Some time after this, he was engaged to 
 work for a week at the farm-house of a godly 
 man, named William Swan. He was anxious 
 to begin his work very early on Monday morn- 
 ing; but the place was several miles distant 
 from his house, and he knew the strictness 
 with which this family regarded the sanctity 
 of the Sabbath, and that they would censure 
 him for performing his journey the night be- 
 fore. Smith was a great coward, and dared 
 not take the walk before day on Monday. He 
 firmly believed in ghosts, witches, and fairies, 
 and to his guilty heart they all seemed spirits 
 
68 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 of evil. The breeze whispering through the 
 thorn, or the ' caw, caw ' of an old crow from 
 her home in the tree-top, made him frantic 
 with terror. 
 
 " At length his deceitful heart brought relief. 
 He decided to take holy time for his walk; 
 and, as Swan would severely rebuke him if he 
 should know it, to hide himself till daybreak, 
 and then present himself there, panting, dusty, 
 and weary, as if just from a long walk. 
 
 " Quite delighted with his own shrewdness, 
 he went on, and arrived at the farm-house 
 while Swan was engaged in his family devo- 
 tions. 
 
 " The kitchen where they were seated was 
 heated by a large fireplace in the center, 
 whose huge chimney made its way through 
 a great square opening overhead into a loft, 
 and thence through the roof. Into this loft, 
 smoky though it was, Birsey crept by an out- 
 side stair, and stretched himself, chilled and 
 weary, near the chimney for the night. 
 
 After the devotions were over below, one of 
 
TALE-BEARING. 69 
 
 tiie laborers remarked that they must be early 
 astir next morning, as Smith was to be there. 
 His name suggested a fruitful theme, and the 
 children joined in expressing, in no gentle 
 terms, their opinion of the mean and selfish 
 man. Good William Swan caught a word of 
 the scandal, and, raising his eye from his 
 book, reproved the young backbiter, and bade 
 him leave the sinful man in the hands of God, 
 the righteous Judge. He warned the family 
 not to call down the wrath of Heaven by 
 speaking their own words or thinking their 
 own thoughts on that holy day. The little 
 ones meekly resumed their lessons in the cate- 
 chism, and for half an hour the silence was un- 
 broken. 
 
 " Then, all of a sudden, there fell upon the 
 stone hearth — ring! ting! ting! — a shoe- 
 maker's knife ! All laid down their books and 
 gazed in mute astonishment at their father, 
 who was no less confounded than they. But 
 before there was time for a word, down came 
 
70 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 an awl ! — whence, no one saw. These were 
 the very implements used by the man against 
 whom they had been speaking. The affrighted 
 and superstitious laborers, ghastly pale, whis- 
 pered that it was an omen for evil ; for they 
 were sure that no such tools belonging to 
 mortals were ever left in the smoky loft over- 
 head. They gazed upward into the awful 
 opening, when down came heavily what looked 
 like a man, but what they were sure was the 
 embodiment of all evil, — down into a bed of 
 burning coals! 
 
 " The family fled in terror ; but the father, 
 a^j^er-hearted than they, ran to the rescue 
 of the mysterious visitor. Birsey was raked 
 from out the coals and ashes, with his clothes 
 burned and his hair singed close to his head. 
 He then confessed to the farmer how he had 
 hidden in the loft to conceal from him his Sab- 
 bath-breaking, and had heard all that was said 
 of him, until, overcome with heat and smoke, 
 he fell asleep. Turning round, he must have 
 
TALE-BEARING. 71 
 
 dropped first his knife and awl and then him- 
 self, into the fire. After a stern rebuke, he 
 was pardoned and provided with more agree- 
 able lodgings for the night. 
 
 " The end of this man, whose deceit and tale- 
 bearing had been the means of shedding inno- 
 cent blood, was truly awful. People at last 
 feared to employ him, and he became an out- 
 cast. His conscience scourged him on account 
 of the fearful sins he had committed* and for 
 a long time he was a vagabond on the earth. 
 One day, his body was found suspended in an 
 out-house belonging to William Swan — dead. 
 No money could induce the workmen to bury 
 him ; and it was only done by a command of a 
 neighboring earl to some of his own menials. 
 They dug the suicide's grave on the boundary 
 of two counties, a spot which was considered 
 neutral ground. None wanted him laid in the 
 quiet churchyard, where his dust would mingle 
 with that of their loved and honored dead. 
 William Swan tore down the building in which 
 
72 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 had been committed the fearful deed. The 
 name of the wretched man is not even suffered 
 to perish, but comes down to us, connected 
 only with deceit, treachery and crime. ,, 
 
 " Is that the end, Auntie ? " asked Jennie. 
 " Certainly, my love ; there could be no 
 more after he was dead," replied Miss Thorne. 
 " Why," exclaimed Ned, « I never knew 
 before that tattlers and busy-bodies were ever 
 men. I thought aU the gossips and mischief- 
 makers were tvo?nen." 
 
 ''' Well, Sir, you see your mistake ; and I 
 assure you there are a great many men mean 
 enough nowadays to do just as poor, miser- 
 able Eirsey Smith did, if they had the same 
 temptation. A noble heart, whether in the 
 breast of a man or a woman, will scorn a mean 
 action. People often have such sins in their 
 breasts, and do not know it themselves. We 
 should pray, as David did, to God, — < Cleanso 
 thou me from secret faults.' " 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 GOOD NATURE. THE BABY'S TOOTH. 
 
 "Well, Master JSTed," asked Aunt Lucy 
 is she sat surrounded by the family and a 
 lew little friends on the piazza, " how would 
 fou. like a blazing fire to-night ? " 
 
 Ned fanned away vigorously and replied, 
 * Not at all, Auntie ; it was so raw and cold 
 ast night that I forgot how heat felt ; but 
 [ know to-night ! " 
 
 " What is your story for this evening, Sister 
 Lucy ? " asked Mr. Carrol. " I hope it is a 
 rery interesting one, for I have leisure to be 
 t listener." 
 
 " Well, Sir," said Miss Thorne, laughing, 
 6 it is a very small subject for so large a 
 gentleman as you to hear about. I'm going 
 x> tell now about a baby" 
 
74 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 THE BABY'S TOOTH. 
 
 " Some people think babies do no good in 
 the world, but only live here to torment those 
 who want to have quiet and order. But I 
 think they are real little missionaries, making 
 others better by their smiles, and lifting heavy 
 loads of care off many hearts by their artless 
 ways. 
 
 " Well, years and years ago, when there 
 were few cars and when people had to jolt 
 over shocking roads in great lumbering stage- 
 coaches, the circumstance I am going to tel] 
 took place. I can remember the time well. 
 I assure you it was no holiday sport to go 
 ' out West,' as people then called a good part 
 of New York State. It would not do for del- 
 icate folks to travel then ! There were very 
 few wedding tours. But of this journey ! 
 
 " The evening coach was fall — ' so full that 
 it was an imposition on the passengers ' — 
 so said Miss Trimmer, who, with two or three 
 
GOOD NATURE. 75 
 
 )attern hats and a box of artificial flowers, 
 yas the last one to enter, notwithstanding the 
 nconvenience to which she put her fellow- 
 >assengers. 
 
 " The village squire — never too amiable — 
 *as returning from court, where he had been 
 lonsuited in a case involving about a fiftieth 
 oart of his estate ; of course, he was morose 
 and impatient. A worn-looking woman was 
 trying to quiet a restless baby by tossing it 
 up where there was not room to toss a bird, 
 because a simpering school-girl on the next 
 seat had whispered aloud to her very young 
 gallant, that < babies were a perfect nuisance 
 in a stage-coach, and that she Should think 
 any one would rather stay at home than travel 
 with one.' Poor, unfortunate baby ; poor, 
 sensitive, widowed mother! Theirs was no 
 pleasure trip ; they were going, uncertain of 
 a welcome, to a rich relative of the newly 
 dead, the only one on earth of whom they 
 could ask aid. Comfort or pity the mother 
 
76 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 did not look for. It was between these an 
 the surly squire that Miss Trimmer insertei 
 herself. At the cruel remark of the incipien 
 belle, the widow turned her head to wip 
 away a tear, when her innocent half-yearlinj 
 grasped with her plump hand a huge bunc] 
 of honeysuckles and carnation pinks whicl 
 dangled from the near side of Miss Trim 
 mer's -bonnet. 
 
 " i Will no one take pity on me?' shrieke( 
 the bearer of the flower burden. < Will n< 
 gentleman shield me from such annoyances ? 
 " < Yes, Madam, I will,' answered an olc 
 gentleman who sat in a corner, resting his 
 chin upon the ivory head of his cane. The 
 lady was soon safely installed in the seat 
 farthest removed from the vicious baby, and 
 the old man in her place. Now this cramped- 
 up child was a perfect democrat. She did not 
 know that she was poor and fatherless ; nor 
 that, when he lived, her father was only a 
 hard-working bricklayer. She knew nothing 
 

GOOD NATURE. 77 
 
 all this, and seemed to think she had as 
 tod a right to shout and crow as any other 
 Jby, and to pull flowers out of bonnets, too, 
 
 she could only reach them. So at the new- 
 mer she went. Her first effort was to se- 
 ire his white beard, but that was immovable, 
 le next reached out her hand for the seals, 
 id lastly grasped the cane. ' Well, little 
 ch,' cried the dear old man, ' if you want 
 
 get at my seals, you had better come a 
 itle nearer.' So he took the willing baby 
 om the weary mother and installed her on 
 s own knee. The poor woman straightened 
 jrself and drew a long breath, as if relieved 
 om a burden she had not strength to bear. 
 
 " ' You look tired, Madam ; have you come 
 I to-day ? ' asked the merciful man. 
 
 " ' I've held the baby, Sir, thirty-six hours 
 . the cars before I got into the coach,' she 
 iswered with a quivering lip. 
 
 " ' I don't see how any one can take care 
 : a tiresome baby,' again whispered the little 
 
78 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 "' Somebody held us all once, and took 
 care of us, too, my child,' replied the olJ 
 gentleman, whose ears were too keen to 
 lose her remark. < Children must be taken 
 care of; they have their work to do, and! 
 they generally do it faithfully.' And hel 
 rattled his seals and key again for the hap- 
 py child. 
 
 " The poor mother cast a look of unmin~j 
 gled gratitude on her benefactor — yes, bene-} 
 factor he was, though he had never given her 
 a crust nor a copper ; for kind words ar J 
 often better than either. This good man alone j 
 of all the passengers — save the unconscious^ 
 baby — seemed at his ease. 
 
 "At length the horses stood still, and all; 
 seemed pleased at the prospect of having the! 
 company thinned. Miss Trimmer looked hope-J 
 fully at the widow and baby, but they did nol 
 move. An anxious, care-worn gentleman beJ 
 gan to unwedge himself preparatory to alight-l 
 ing. Then in the deepening twilight there! 
 
GOOD NATURE. 79 
 
 bounded from the dwelling, beside which the 
 coach had halted, a curly-headed boy of four 
 years. ' Pa, Pa,' he shouted, as the pater- 
 nal head emerged from the coach-door, ' I've 
 good news for you ; you can't guess what has 
 happened to-day.' And clapping his chubby 
 hands and dancing for joy, he exclaimed, ' 
 Papa, the baby's got a tooth. !\ There was 
 a sudden revulsion of feeling in the coach. 
 The passengers all laughed heartily at the 
 vast importance of the news from that little 
 world, home. Miss Trimmer put her head out 
 of the coach-window and exclaimed, ' What a 
 darling little fellow ! ' The coachman forgot 
 to crack his whip for a whole minute as he 
 gazed at the happy boy. The father turned 
 round, smiled, raised his hat, and said ' good- 
 by ' to his fellow-travelers. The surly squire 
 laughed and drew home his feet, which had all 
 the way been stretched out on the widow's 
 territory, to her great inconvenience, saying, 
 1 Beg your pardon, Ma'am.' Even Miss Trim 
 
80 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 mer was softened, for she opened the cover of 
 her reticule and gave the offending baby a 
 stick of candy, saying, ' Poor little thing, she 
 must have something to amuse her.' 
 
 " ' Well,' cried the laughing school-girl, ' I 
 do love children, after all — they are so funny 
 I can't help it ! ' 
 
 " ' Never try to help it, child,' said the 
 baby's benefactor. * They ought to be loved, 
 for they do a great deal for us grown folks. 
 Now don't you see that rosy boy, with the 
 news of the great acquisition to his family treas- 
 ures, — a tooth for the baby, — has changed a 
 coach-full of anxious and ill-tempered people 
 into a cheerful and even kind-hearted com- 
 pany ? Don't you see how he has made 
 friends for my little companion here who is 
 too young to speak for herself ? Why, we 
 are all better now for riding with this little 
 one, and my word for it, you'll think of her 
 after you go home, too.' Then, turning to 
 the widow, he asked her to whose house she 
 
GOOD NATURE. 81 
 
 was going. When she answered him, he said, 
 4 Oh, it's too far to ride to-night with the poor 
 tired baby ; stop and rest with us ; grand- 
 mother will give even a strange baby a wel- 
 come, for we've just buried our pet at home,— 
 my daughter's little one. She made the house 
 very cheerful for us, but she's gone ; but not 
 forgotten ! No, I believe grandmother loves 
 all babies better since she died ; so don't be 
 afraid of intruding.' Moved by such kindness, 
 the widow in an under-tone told her painful 
 errand to her new friend. * Ah, ah ! ' he said, 
 [ well, your relative is a kind man, if you go 
 at him just the right way, and folks say I 
 know how to manage him as well as any body. 
 In the morning I'll drive you over there, and 
 present your case in the most judicious man- 
 ner. Never fear, he'll be kind to you; so 
 keep up good heart, my poor friend.' 
 
 " Overcome by such unlooked-for kindness, 
 she wept out the tears which had all day been 
 gathering in their fountain under the cold look 
 
1 
 
 82 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 and sarcastic words of those around her. Mist 
 Trimmer, who, when not in a hurry or a crowd, 
 was really a kind-hearted woman, looked com- 
 passionately at the faint effort the young widow 
 had made toward wearing black for the dead. 
 ' Won't you call at my shop with the lady, as 
 you go by in the morning, Mr. Bond ? ' she 
 asked ; ' 1 should like to speak with her ; 
 and again she glanced at the straw hat with 
 its band of thin black ribbon, with an expres- 
 sion which promised a new one. 
 
 " ' Well, here we are, my friend,' cried the 
 old man, as the coach stopped before an old 
 brown mansion, * and there is grandmothei 
 in the door waiting for us.' The little belle 
 offered to hold the baby while the mother 
 alighted, and the softened squire handed out 
 her carpet-bag and basket. i Good-night ' — 
 crack went the whip — and the cheerful trav- 
 elers rode on to their own homes. Light and 
 warmth and a cordial welcome for the night 
 and prosperity on the morrow awaited the 
 
GOOD NATURE. 83 
 
 lonely widow, i and all,' so said her noble 
 friend, ' because a baby had a tooth, and his 
 little brother told of it ! ' " 
 
 " When Jesus tells us, * of such is the king- 
 dom of heaven,' I'm quite willing to receive 
 his word," said Mr. Carrol ; " for since we laid 
 our sweet little Johnnie in the grave, the hope 
 of seeing him there, still a baby, has added 
 new charms to heaven for me." 
 
 Mrs. Carrol wiped away a tear and said, 
 " Heaven has been sweeter to me also since 
 that day ; and when I look sometimes at my 
 other children, so happy and so loving, it 
 almost breaks my heart to think that they 
 never saw and never loved the first lamb of 
 the fold. But in a moment I remember that 
 he is not lost to us, but resting for a season 
 in the bosom of the Good Shepherd. Then 
 I rejoice that when at last we shall be gath- 
 ered in glory, he will be with us and one of 
 the dear little band. It is a holy thought, 
 
84 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 { We have a baby in heaven ; ' and let us all 
 try to love Jesus that we may dwell for ever 
 with him and the dear ones who wait for us 
 there." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TBUST AND CHEERFULNESS. — HUNTING FOR 
 STARS. 
 
 " It is our turn to-night, Auntie," said Ned, 
 " to have a story — Joe's and mine. Do you 
 know one about sailors ? " 
 
 " I don't know much about the sea, Ned, 
 but I have known a good many who passed 
 most of their lives on it," said Miss Thorne. 
 
 " Who ? " asked the boy. 
 
 " I had a lovely brother who would go from 
 home as a sailor. He loved the very sound of 
 the storm, and said the flapping of the canvas 
 made him feel as if he must fly," replied the 
 aunt. 
 
 " Which uncle is it ? " asked Jennie. 
 
 " Charlie, dear ; he died of yellow fever in 
 a strange land, long before you were born. 
 
86 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 But to-night let me tell you about our old 
 neighbor and his grandson, who always looked 
 on the bright side." 
 
 HUNTING FOR STARS. 
 
 " * I knew we should have a storm,' said an 
 aged man as he rose from his easy-chair and 
 looked out upon the darkness. i I told you so 
 yesterday, Clara. When I see white caps off 
 the beach I always think of the poor sailor on 
 the coast. I don't like this coasting business 
 at all, — there's twice the danger with half the 
 profit of foreign voyages. I wish, Clara, you 
 would consent to let Frank go to sea as he 
 I wants to ; I should feel less anxiety for him in 
 a storm than I now do.' 
 
 " ' But you know, Father,' replied the lady, 
 ' we see him so much oftener now, and I have 
 so dreaded the open sea ever since his father 
 was lost. It seemed so strange that no life but 
 a sailor's would do for Frank ; my heart sinks 
 at the thought of his making it his life busi- 
 
TRUST AND CHEERFULNESS. 87 
 
 " * Not strange at all that he loves the sea/ 
 replied the old man ; ' 'twas born in him, child ; 
 and now, if I had my life to live over again, 1 
 would be nothing but a sailor.' 
 
 " ' Well, I suppose,' replied the lady, * I must 
 give up my will in the matter. He is a dear 
 good boy, and I know it cost him a great 
 struggle before he consented to compromise 
 the matter by going in a coaster. I suppose 
 I must spend my days looking for clouds and 
 storms.' 
 
 " i Oh, ho,' exclaimed the old man, rising 
 and looking out again, ' a regular north-easter. 
 But maybe they didn't sail on the seventeenth, 
 Clara. When I was among ships they used to 
 say that a coaster might sail any day of the 
 week but the one for which she was advertised. 
 If they remained in port twenty-four hours 
 after their time, they will not reach the rocks 
 until the storm is over.' 
 
 " * I hope,' said the mother, ' that God will 
 protect him wherever he is, for thicker darkness 
 
88 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 I never saw. But the wind has gone down 
 since sunset, Father ; it seems very calm now.' 
 
 " ' Resting, perhaps, to blow with new fury,' 
 said the old man, * for it does not seem as if 
 such a heavy storm could have passed over so 
 soon. Let the boy go to India as he wants to, 
 and take my word, Clara, when he's once off, a 
 year's absence will not seem so long as a quar- 
 ter does now. Why, child, when I was trad- 
 ing among the Islands, your mother used to get 
 along alone for eighteen months at a time, and 
 never complain.' 
 
 " * But, Father,' said the lady, ' mother was 
 so cheerful and patient, always hoping and 
 looking on the bright side ; I often smile now 
 as I think how she used to keep up her own 
 courage and mine when you were gone. When 
 the weather was fine, she used to say, " I've no 
 doubt it is just as bright and calm where father 
 is," — then when it stormed furiously she would 
 say* " It is not at all likely this reaches out so 
 far at sea as they must be now." ' The old 
 
TRUST AND CHEERFULNESS. 89 
 
 man laughed nervously, but in a moment he 
 pressed his brow upon the ivory top of his staff, 
 and wiped away the tears which fond old mem- 
 ories brought to his faded eyes. 
 
 " c But, father, I haven't her strong trust to 
 sustain me,' said the widow. 
 
 " ' No, child, no, you haven't, — you're more 
 like me,' was the reply. ' Poor mother ! she 
 didn't make much stir in the world when she 
 was here, but she left a wide place empty 
 when she went away. It seems a lonely world 
 to me since her head was laid low. Her gray 
 hair was a crown of glory to her, but she wears 
 a brighter crown now. Oh, Clara! I shall 
 never cease thinking of her last night on earth, 
 — the night of her triumph. When Frank 
 came in so unexpectedly she looked so happy, 
 and said, " I felt as if I should not be suffered 
 to go till I had put my hand on that boy's head 
 and blessed him." I said, " Now you are sat- 
 isfied, are you r.ot, mother ? " " No," she 
 replied, " not yet, but I shall be when I awake 
 
90 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 in His likeness." She's satisfied to-night, 
 Clara, while you and I sit here worrying about 
 the boy she blessed.' 
 
 " ' It is wrong, father,' said the widow, as 
 she saw the tears falling fast, ' it is wrong to 
 distrust God in this way. Come, let's go into 
 the sitting-room where there is a cheerful fire ; 
 it always makes you feel lonely to sit by this 
 dull stove.' 
 
 " ' I'm all broke to pieces, Clara,' said the 
 old man rising, ' and sometimes I do wish 
 Frank would stay on shore. There are so few 
 left me now, that I think I should feel younger 
 and stronger if I could have them around me.' 
 
 " ' I had strong hopes,' replied the lady, 
 ' that Frank would grow up to be a companion 
 for me and a useful man in the world. But 
 his whole heart seems set on the billows and on 
 wealth.' 
 
 " * He may be a sailor and yet do much 
 good,' said the old man. ' If he gets money, 
 he may honor God with that.' 
 
TRUST AND CHEERFULNESS. 91 
 
 " ' He'll never hoard it up for himself,' said 
 the mother, ' for he has your heart, father.' 
 
 " They entered the parlor and the old man 
 sat down before the blazing fire, in the chair 
 which his daughter had rolled in for him. He 
 placed his cane in the corner of the fireplace, 
 and was arranging the sticks to give a yet 
 brighter fight, when the widow exclaimed, 
 ? Why, there is little Joe behind the window 
 curtain ! I thought you went to bed an hour 
 ago, my boy.' 
 
 " ' I was on my way up-stairs, mother,' re- 
 plied the boy, ' but I stopped here at the win- 
 dow a moment. Then I sat down in the win- 
 dow-seat to hunt for stars. You know the sky 
 is so large, mother, that it took me a long time 
 to look all over it.' 
 
 " The mother smiled at the simplicity of her 
 child, but the grandfather said, t You will look 
 a long time, Joe, before you find a star in this 
 dark sky.' 
 
 « < Why, dear Grandpa,' said the boy earnest- 
 
92 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 ly, * I found one some time ago, and now I see 
 another. A heavy cloud has just broken and 
 now the stars are beginning to peep through.' 
 The old man looked incredulous. He rose, 
 and standing by the boy, looked out, and said, 
 * I don't see a single star, Joe.' 
 
 " ' That's because you have not looked long 
 enough, Grandpa ; fix your eye up there,' he 
 said, pointing to the broken cloud, c and if you 
 wait a moment, you'll see stars. They look 
 pale, but they'll soon be brighter, for the cloud 
 is moving away from them.' 
 
 "J I see them now, Joe, my darling,' ex- 
 claimed the old man, laying his hand fondly on 
 the curly head. 6 Come here, Clara, and see 
 if God can not scatter the cloud which shadows 
 Frank's pathway home. 
 
 " Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take ; 
 The clouds ye so much dread, 
 Are big with mercy, and shall break 
 In blessings on your head." 
 
 " ' But tell me, my boy, what made you 
 
TRUST AND CHEERFULNESS. 93 
 
 think of hunting for stars amid the thick dark- 
 ness ? ' 
 
 " 6 1 noticed, Sir,' said the child, ' that ever 
 since we have been expecting Frank home, 
 you and mother have been all the time look- 
 ing for clouds and storm. So, after the rain 
 and wind came, I thought I would look for 
 starlight, and perhaps that would come too ; I 
 always find when I want any good thing and 
 look patiently for it, I am sure to find it.' 
 
 " ' Hear that, Clara ? ' said the old man. 
 i Doesn't that sound just like your mother ? ' 
 
 " And the clouds broke and flew away, the 
 rain ceased and the winds were hushed. 
 
 " It was a cheerful little group which gather- 
 ed round the sparkling fire the next evening. 
 How joyfully both grandfather and mother 
 gazed into the hopeful face of Frank, as he told 
 how, amid the wind and darkness of the pre- 
 vious night, they had striven to keep off from 
 the rocky coast, and how rejoiced they were 
 when, contrary to all weather-signs, the wind 
 
94 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 ceased blowing and the stars came out to guide 
 them to their desired haven. How joyfully did 
 the brave boy listen to the story of little Joe 
 hunting for the stars for his dear sake ! How 
 patiently did he hear his mother's warning not 
 to set his heart on this world, and her expres- 
 sions of fear for his future life. When she 
 spoke of her hopes and prayers over his cradle, 
 that he might grow up to love God, and to 
 serve him as a minister or a missionary, he re- 
 plied ' But, dearest mother, all the good men 
 must not be missionaries ; some must make 
 money to sustain those who preach the gospel. 
 I will try to be one of this class ; but to sea I 
 must go ! I cannot breathe freely on shore 
 more than a month at a time.' 
 
 " ' Just as I felt when I was young,' said 
 the old man. ' You must let him go to India 
 once, Clara. Who can tell but God may make 
 him a blessing there.' 
 
 " 4 Oh, Mother,' said the boy, ' I long to go 
 abroad, but I never will without your consent. 1 
 
TRUST AND CHEERFULNESS. 95 
 
 " The fond heart of the old man ceased not 
 to beat till he had welcomed Frank again and 
 again from foreign lands ; till he had seen his 
 ambition chastened, and gold sought for a 
 nobler purpose than to gratify the pride of 
 life. And when he slept in the dust, the 
 widow was spared to see her mother's blessing 
 fall upon her first-born. She lived to know 
 that her early prayers for him were answered ; 
 that, although not a minister of the gospel, he 
 was doing a work which no Christian at home 
 can do for his brother in heathen lands, and 
 what no missionary can do for his fellow- 
 laborer. When abroad he held up the droop- 
 ing hands of God's servants to the Gentiles ; 
 on the sea he was the honored instrument of 
 cheering the fainting heart, of supporting the 
 aching head, and of holding to the parched 
 lips of the missionary the cup of cold water, 
 for Christ's sake. Many the fears he quelled, 
 many the tears he wiped away, many the acts 
 of love which none but a Christian seaman 
 
96 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 could perform, registered beneath his name on 
 high, when his mother was no more. 
 
 " Surely light arose to that mother in her 
 darkness, and even while she, distrustfully, 
 was looking for clouds and tempest, the God 
 of the widow and the Father of the fatherless 
 was removing everything which prevented the 
 stars from lighting her darkness. 
 
 " ' Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, 
 But trust him for his grace ; 
 Behind a frowning providence 
 He hides a smiling face.' " 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BITTER WORDS. — THE STORY OP LITTLE KITTY. 
 
 " Saturday night come so soon ! " exclaimed 
 Aunt Lucy, as the little group gathered round 
 her in the parlor. " * Another six days' work 
 is done ; ' I wonder what messages all these 
 seconds and minutes and hours and days have 
 borne to heaven! What have we done to 
 make ourselves better and others happier? 
 Have we overcome any sin which has been 
 lurking in our hearts ; or have we cherished all 
 these, and committed new ones? Are we 
 nearer heaven, dear little ones, or farther from 
 it than we were last Saturday night ? When 
 we go away alone, let us ask our hearts these 
 questions, and pray God for grace to live to 
 him. The story I have for you to-night will 
 teach you to treat each other from day to day 
 
 7 
 
98 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 just as if each was to be your last meeting 
 together ; so that, should death come suddenly 
 to any one of you, you will have no guilt on 
 your conscience, for having spoken harshly or 
 acted cruelly to those whose pardon you can 
 not ask." 
 
 " I often wish," said Mrs. Carrol, " that I 
 could recall a few harsh words I once said to 
 a poor girl, who lived as a domestic with my 
 mother when I was not older than Ned. She 
 was apt to be very fretful, and used to scold 
 when we touched any thing in the kitchen. I 
 one day heard my mother say she could not 
 keep her on this account ; so, going into the 
 kitchen, and meeting with the usual treatment, 
 I said in a passion, ' Scold away, old Margery 
 Pool, as fast as you can, or else you won't get 
 through before you go.' 
 
 " \ Go where ? ' asked the girl in surprise. 
 
 " ' Home to your father's ; my mother says 
 you sha'n't stay here and scold her children 
 any longer. I hope you'll go as quick as 
 
BITTER WORDS. 99 
 
 you can, for we are all sick of the sight of 
 you.' 
 
 " I never shall forget," continued Mrs. 
 Carrol, " the look of utter despair with which 
 she threw her blue apron over her face and sank 
 into a chair. Then she sobbed out, ' Nobody- 
 knows how hard I try to do right; but half 
 the time I'm too sick to work at all. Your 
 mother will have all right in the kitchen, and 
 when you come in and clatter it up when I 
 am too tired to go over it again, I can't help 
 scolding. Oh, dear ! it's a poor home I've got 
 to go to — it's a drunkard's home ; and, more 
 than that, mother's looking for my wages to 
 buy winter clothes for the children.' 
 
 " When tea was over that evening, we called 
 and rang the bell, but Margery was nowhere 
 to be found. She had taken her little paper- 
 covered trunk in her arms, and walked away 
 four miles to her miserable home in a forlorn 
 neighborhood. I felt very guilty, and told my 
 mother what I had said. She blamed me 
 
100 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 very much, and said, ' I, who was a happy 
 child, ought to be more tender of the feelings 
 of the poor ; and that she should ride over to 
 Pine Hollow, to give Margery her wages, and 
 should insist on my going with her to ask her 
 pardon.' But before the time came, Mar- 
 gery's mother walked over for the money. 
 She said her girl was very sick, and kept re- 
 peating all the time, ' Oh, Mother, I tried so 
 hard to help you! I shall never scold any 
 more.' And the poor thing died with a fever 
 which had been hanging about her for weeks. 
 I prayed God to forgive my cruelty, and I 
 hope he has done so ; but to this day it is a 
 blot on my memory, which I would give a 
 great deal to wash away. But, Lucy, dear, 
 the children are waiting for your story, so I 
 will detain you no longer." 
 
 " It will be much the same as yours, only 
 this is of a little sister, instead of a servant. 
 I well remember the time when Margery left 
 us. Mother took us to the funeral, that we 
 
BITTER WORDS. 101 
 
 might see a drunkard's home, and learn to feel 
 for the little children there. Oh, what deso- 
 lation was there ! The old man sat with his 
 hands over his eyes, as if ashamed to look 
 any one in the face ; and well he might be s 
 for the dead girl wore her life out trying to 
 feed him in idleness, and to keep the family 
 from starvation. My story to-night is about a 
 little girl I knew in my youth." 
 
 LITTLE KITTY. 
 
 " Little Kitty was a bright, merry, and af- 
 fectionate girl of fourteen. She was ever ready 
 to oblige, and being the child of an invalid 
 mother and the sister of two gay and fashion- 
 able young ladies, she never lacked for oppor- 
 tunity to exercise this amiable quality. She 
 was the helper of every-body, from the sick 
 mother down to the cook. The mother called 
 on her because she came with a step so soft 
 and a voice so gentle, — the sisters, because 
 no one could arrange their hair and assist at 
 
102 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 their toilet so tastefully as the graceful Kitty, 
 — the cook, not only because it saved her 
 * many a weary foot's-length, but for the com- 
 fort o' seein' how like a born lady she'd stoop 
 to assist the poor bodies benathe her.' At any 
 rate, Kitty found business enough to weary 
 many a foot less light, and to discourage many 
 a heart less kind and willing than hers. She 
 ran on all her sisters' errands, carrying flowers, 
 books, and notes to their friends, ' because she 
 did it so prettily, and servants were so stupid* 
 She was a school-girl, and if ever she ventured 
 to hint that her lessons must be learned, they 
 said, ' Oh, what of that, Kitty ? You are so 
 smart that you can do all that after we are 
 gone, in the evening.' 
 
 " And so she did, for many a long winter's 
 night studying and sleeping alternately in her 
 chair, and keeping a light and a warm fire for 
 the revelers. And then when they were warm 
 enough to speak, Kitty darling must ^ull down 
 all the finery she had so lately erected, and 
 
BITTER WORDS. 103 
 
 listen, for her reward, to an account of the 
 splendid assembly, and to promises of going 
 with them in two or three years. 
 
 ut T wonder what you'll do for a dressing- 
 maid thenf Kitty would ask with an arch 
 smile ; and then, with a fond kiss from each, 
 she would slip off to her mother's disturbed 
 bed, there to dream of fractions, verbs, arti- 
 ficial flowers, and cameo bracelets, all en- 
 gulfed for ever in her mother's gruel por- 
 ringer ! 
 
 " The girls had long been prevented from re- 
 ciprocating the invitations of their gay friends, 
 and as the winter wore away and no alarming 
 symptoms appeared in the case of their moth- 
 er, they decided to give a little entertainment. 
 No objections were made by the invalid, for 
 she felt that the house had been made gloomy 
 long months by her illness, and was willing to 
 endure some annoyance, could she but make 
 her fatherless children happy. 
 
 " When the evening arrived and the all 
 
104 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 important work of the toilet began, it was 
 found out that the florist had failed to send 
 the bouquets. No flowers for their hair, — 
 what could they possibly do ! The servants 
 were too busy to be spared, so of course 
 
 * Kitty would have to go.' And she went, 
 not very cheerfully, we must say. For once 
 a tear came to her eye, as she looked out 
 into the darkening street, upon the cold snowy 
 pavement. 
 
 " 6 Can't you do without them ? ' she asked. 
 
 "'Do without them? Why, Kitty, that does 
 
 not sound like you,' replied one of her sisters. 
 
 " ' Well, girls, the truth is,' exclaimed Kitty, 
 
 * I am so weary that I can hardly stand now ; 
 I'm sure you do not realize how much I have 
 done to-day, or you would not ask me to go.' 
 
 " The sisters both looked wounded at this un- 
 expected remark, and the eldest said reproach- 
 fully, ' Well, we can go without the flowers, if 
 you are so disobliging. 9 Her better nature 
 rebuked her before the words were off her 
 
BITTER WORDS. 105 
 
 lips, but she was vexed and would not say 
 so. 
 
 " ' Here then, Kitty/ said the second one^ 
 ' is my pearl flower for your hair, — you see 
 I am willing to gratify you — even when you 
 are selfish.' 
 
 " Kitty burst into tears, and darted from 
 the room. She knew that she was not selfish. 
 and the accusation went like an arrow to her 
 heart. Her sisters, too, felt unhappy ; not so 
 much that they must dress without the flowers, 
 as because they knew they had been unjust 
 and cruel to the being whom, of all others on 
 earth, they most tenderly loved. One bade 
 the other go to Kitty's room and tell her they 
 did not mean what they had said, but neither 
 went for some time, and then she was not 
 there. What was their surprise, in less than 
 an hour, to see her enter their chamber with 
 swollen eyes, but smiling lips, bearing the 
 flowers ! With shame, they thanked the wea- 
 ry child, but in the excitement and bustle, they 
 
106 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 did not kiss her, they did not ask pardon for 
 their heartless cruelty. Oh, how does worldly 
 vanity harden the heart of the naturally good 
 and loving ! 
 
 " The guests were gone, the lights extin« 
 guished, and the weary girls, after assuring 
 themselves that their mother had been in no 
 way injured by the noise, sought their pillows, 
 saying, as they kissed her tenderly, * Good- 
 night, dear Mother, Kitty will be up in a 
 moment.' 
 
 " Long after all save the sick one had been 
 lost in slumber, a ringing from her chamber 
 brought down her daughters. * Why, my chil- 
 dren, where can Kitty be ? It is more than 
 an hour since you left me, and no sound have 
 I heard in the house.' The servants were 
 roused, and all descending together sought the 
 child. Then the sisters remembered that they 
 saw nothing of her after the guests began to 
 arrive. On reaching the front basement, there 
 in the cold and darkness lay Kitty, robed only 
 
BITTER WORDS. 107 
 
 in a thin muslin, sleeping the heavy deep slum- 
 ber of one over-wearied and ill. They strove 
 to rouse her, but could only get her enough 
 awake to say, ' Oh, don't, don't, — I'm so weary 
 that I can not go ! Oh, I've tried, but can not 
 walk, — wait till our own flowers grow ! I am 
 not selfish, do not call me so, — I am sick and 
 tired, but not selfish. Oh, I'm so weary, let 
 me sleep, sisters ! ' 
 
 " The girls wept bitterly as poor fond Nora 
 with loud lamentations carried the sick child 
 up-stairs in her arms. The three watched 
 over her, all wearied as they were, while an- 
 other strove to calm the mother's fears. No 
 effort could avail to warm the shivering form 
 until morning began to break. Then the cold, 
 blue lip and cheek changed their hue to burn- 
 ing red. Kitty knew no one around her, an- 
 swered none of their questions, but only mur- 
 mured, * No, no ! Ask my mother if I have 
 been an unfeeling, selfish child ! ' In the 
 morning, while the doctor was in the sick-room, 
 the florist called to apologize for his young 
 
108 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 man's carelessness. ' I hope,' he said, < the 
 young lady did not take cold last night. I 
 noticed that while at the store waiting for the 
 bouquets she tried to dry her feet ; but her 
 shoes were full of snow and water. She seemed 
 very weary and asked for a seat, poor child ! 
 I felt troubled lest she might be made ill 
 through our neglect, and could not rest till 
 I had inquired. ' 
 
 " Kitty was indeed very ill, but conscience 
 told her sisters in words not to be misunder- 
 stood that others than he were to blame ; that 
 their heartlessness had brought on the fever 
 which might consume her sweet life away. 
 
 " The burning heat soon seized the brain of 
 the dear child, and no skill had power to allay 
 it, no love had strength to awaken her to a 
 sense of her condition. She still moaned pite- 
 ously in her troubled dreams, l Kiss me, sisters, 
 and say you will forgive me ; then I'll go out 
 in the night and the storm and bring your 
 flowers. Oh, how cold the white flowers are ; 
 they are made of ice, — cold, cold ! The red 
 
BITTER WORDS. 109 
 
 flowers burn my fingers, but I will bring them ! 
 I am not selfish, am I, Mother ? Oh dear ! ' 
 
 " Kitty died, and what then were balls and 
 parties and tinsel and flowers to her agonized 
 sisters ! They wept bitterly over her coffin ; 
 but the flowers with which their love had filled 
 it, and which should have been messengers of 
 hope and peace, were as daggers to their 
 hearts, reminding them of the night she went 
 sick and weary to procure the like to deck 
 them for the revel. They robed themselves 
 in deepest weeds of woe; they extolled her 
 virtues ; they enshrined her image in their 
 hearts ; they erected a costly monument to 
 her memory ; but they could never satisfy 
 their own hearts, never repay poor, sweet 
 Kitty for those hours of sorrow, nor take 
 back again those bitter words. 
 
 "Dear, dear children," said Aunt Lucy, 
 " keep your hearts pure from such sins tow- 
 ards each other ; for you little know at what 
 
110 MAPLE HILL. 
 
 time the Son of man will call for you or for 
 those with whom you associate from day to 
 day. If either of you has wronged or wound- 
 ed any person, go at once and ask forgiveness, 
 so that there will be nothing of that kind left 
 undone, should death come suddenly. If God 
 spares you to old age you will be better men 
 and women for thus crucifying your pride now. 
 Pray that God will help you to set a watch 
 on your lips that you sin not with your tongue. 
 The lips are the door of the heart ; so all can 
 tell what is within, by what passes through 
 them. Now good-night, away to your prayers 
 and your slumbers. God bless you, my dar- 
 
 " Shall you tell us a Sunday -night story, 
 Auntie ? " asked Jennie. 
 
 " Perhaps I will ; but now, dears, go to bed, 
 and I will tell you in the morning what seems 
 best to be done to-morrow night." 
 
 THE END. 
 
GHOIGR 
 
 Suriday-^cliool BooI^s, 
 
 GRANDMOTHER MERWIN'S HEIRESS. Mrs. M. F. Butts. 
 
 2mo. 308 pp. 6 cuts. $1 25. 
 
 FRONTIER AND CITY. Miss A. L. Rouse. l2mo. 294 pp. 
 
 Cuts. $1 25. 
 
 THE WHATSOEVER TEN. Minnie E. Kenney. 12mo. 295 pp. 
 CUtS. $1 25. 
 
 JUDGE HAVERSHAM'S WILL,. Miss I. T. Hopkins. 12mo. 
 11 pp. 4 cuts. $1 25. 
 
 The young hero will be admired for his sterling manly qualities. 
 
 MARGIE AT THE HARBOR-LIGHT. Rev. E. A. Rand. 12mo 
 
 touts. 264 pp. $1. 
 
 CHANGING PLACES; or, How One Boy Climbed Up and 
 mother Slipped Down. Miss C. M. Trowbridge. 12mo. 217 pp. 
 puts. Cloth, 90 cts. 
 
 BERNIE'S LIGHT. Minnie E. Kenney. l2mo. 272 pp. 4 cuts, 
 loth, $1 10. 
 
 ; ARROW HEAD LIGHT. Miss I. T. Hopkins. 12mo. 366 pp. 
 
 loth, $1 25. 
 
 MRS. MORSE'S GIRLS. Minnie E, Kenney. 12mo. 282 pp. 
 ioth, $1. 
 
 \ ROGER DUNHAM'S CHOICE. Jennie Harrison. 12mo. 270 pp. 
 
 Soth, $1. 
 
TALL CHESTNUTS OF VANDYKE. Miss I. T. Hopki 
 12m0. 395 pp. 5 CUtS. $1 50. 
 
 DUNCAN KENNEDY'S NEW HOME. Mrs. L. L. Rouse. 12r 
 
 324 pp. 4 cuts. $1 25. 
 
 HOPE REED'S UPPER WINDOWS. Howe Benning. 12i 
 304 pp. 4 cuts. $1 25. 
 
 DICK LANGDON'S CAREER. Mrs. S. A. F. Herbert. 12r 
 248 pp. 4 cuts. $1. 
 
 FROLIC BOOKS. Mrs. M. F. Butts. 6 vols. 16mo. $4 25 per g 
 
 FOXWOOD BOYS AT SCHOOL ; or, More Doings of t 
 MoDonogli Boys. Mrs. E. P. Allan. 12mo. 267 pp. $1. 
 
 HER CHRISTMAS AND HER EASTER. Rev. E. A. Rai 
 
 12mo. 187 pp. $1. 
 
 HARRY'S TRIP TO THE ORIENT. Rev. Charles S. Newh; 
 12mo. 344 pp. 22 cuts. $1 50. 
 
 JEAN MACDONALD'S WORK. 12mo. 384 pp. 6 cuts. $1 i 
 
 JUST IN TIME. Mrs. Reaney. 12mo. 374 pp. 4 cuts. $1 25. 
 
 URSULA'S BEGINNINGS. 12mo. 296 pp. 4 cuts. $1 25. 
 
 HARD TO WIN. Mrs. G. Cupples. 12mo. 158 pp. 4 cuts. 75 < 
 
 THE GOOD-TIMES GIRLS. Miss I. T. Hopkins. 12mo. 472; 
 6 cuts. $1 50. 
 
 HAMPERED. Mrs. A. K. Dunning. 12mo. 198 pp. 3 cuts. 90 < 
 
 HONEST WULLIE. Mrs. L. L. Rouse. 12mo. 316 pp. 5 cuts. $1 
 
 SEVENTEEN AND TWICE SEVENTEEN. Mrs. A. F. B 
 fensperger. 12mo. 320 pp. 4 cuts. $1 25. 
 
 VACATION DAYS AT FOXWOOD. Mrs. E. P. Allan. 12r 
 224 pp. 4 cuts. $1. 
 
CLUNY MACPHERSON. Mrs. Amelia E. Barr. 12mo. 311 pp. 
 
 cuts. $1 25. 
 
 DAISY SNOWFXAKE'S SECRET. Mrs. G. S. Reaney. 12mo. 
 3 pp. 6 cuts. $1 25. 
 
 FINDING HER PLACE. Howe Benning. 12mo. 368 pp. 5 cuts. 
 . 50. 
 
 UP TO THE MARK. Miss I. T. Hopkins. 12mo. 372 pp. 4 cuts. 
 . 50. 
 
 Q,UIET CORNERS. Howe Benning. 12mo. 373 pp. 4 cuts. $150. 
 
 TARRYPORT SCHOOL-GIRLS. A. L. Noble. 16mo. 272 pp. 
 cuts. $1. 
 
 VICTORY AT LAST. Miss C. M. Trowbridge. 12mo. 232 pp. 
 
 cuts. $1. 
 
 MADGE MAR LAND. Laura Francis. 12mo. 320 pp. 4 cuts. $125. 
 
 OPENING PLAIN PATHS. Howe Benning. 12mo. 336 pp. 
 cuts. $1 25. 
 
 READY AND WILLING. Miss I. T. Hopkins. 12mo. 333 pp. 
 cuts. $1 25. 
 
 THEO AND HUGO. Mary B. Wyllys. 16mo. 320 pp. 4 cuts. $1. 
 
 THE BLUE-BADGE BOYS. Miss I. T. Hopkins. 16mo. 384 pp. 
 
 cuts. $1 25. 
 
 FATHER'S HOUSE. Howe Benning. 16mo. 278 pp. 4 cuts. $1. 
 
 NELLIE'S NEW YEAR. Rev. E. A. Rand. 16mo. 351 pp. 
 cuts. $1 10. 
 
 CHRISTMAS JACK. Rev. E. A. Rand. 16mo. 231 pp. 6 cuts. $1. 
 
— & — 
 
 Model Librarirs. 
 
 EACH IN A CHESTNUT CASE. 
 
 MODEL LIBRARY, No. I. 
 
 For older scholars. 50 vols. I6mo. Net, $20. 
 
 MODEL LIBRARY. No. 2. 
 
 For intermediate scholars. 18mo. 50 vols. Net, $15. 
 
 MODEL LIBRARY, No. 3. 
 
 For older scholars, 16mo. 50 vols. Net, $25. 
 
 MODEL LIBRARY, No. 4. 
 
 For the Infant Class, 18mo. 50 vols. Net, $10. 
 
 MODEL LIBRARY, No. 5. 
 
 For older scholars. 25 vols. 16mo. Net, $15. 
 
 STAR LIBRARY. 
 
 One hundred volumes. 18mo. See last page. 
 
 MISSIONARY LIBRARY. 
 
 Twelve volumes. Only $10 Net. See next page. 
 
Popular Series, 
 
 BOOKS IN STOUT PAPER COVERS. 
 
 Those marked thus (*) are illustrated. 
 
 PRICE. 
 
 Advice to Young Christians 10 
 
 Alice Maitland's Trial*- - - 10 
 
 Alone in London. $ Stretton 15 
 
 Amusements, in the Light of Rea- 
 son. Haydn --- --- 15 
 
 Amy's New Hornet 10 
 
 An Irish Heart. * Temperance Tales 10 
 Annals of the Poor.* Legh Rich- 
 mond - -- 20 
 
 Antonio Bishallany 15 
 
 Anxious Inquirer. James 15 
 
 As a Medicine. $ Temperance Tales 10 
 
 Atonement, Discourses on 10 
 
 Bartimeus of the Sandwich Islands 5 
 
 Basil, or Honesty and Industry J- - 10 
 
 Benny* 5 
 
 Bertha Alston} - 10 
 
 Bertie's Fall* -- 10 
 
 Bessie Kirkland* --- 10 
 
 Bethlehem and her Children J — 10 
 
 Bible Reader's Help 20 
 
 Blanche Gamond* 10 
 
 Blood of Jesus. Reid --- 10 
 
 Bloom of Youth*- - --- 10 
 
 Bud oi Promise, etc.* 10 
 
 Buster and Baby Jim* 10 
 
 Caroline Morin* 5 
 
 Charles Atwell, etc.J 10 
 
 Chinese Coast, etc.* 10 
 
 Christianity's Challenge. Herrick 
 
 Johnson, D. D. 16rno 25 
 
 Christian Queen, etc.* - - — 10 
 
 Christie's Old Organ.* Walton - - 15 
 
 Cinnamon-Isle Boy * 15 
 
 Concert Programme* - - - 10 
 
 Daniel, Lite of*» - --- 15 
 
 David Acheson, etc.* 10 
 
 Davidson, E., etc.* 10 
 
 Deserted Heroine, The} 5 
 
 Dora Felton's Visit} 10 
 
 PRIC 
 
 Easy Lessons} ] 
 
 Ethel Seymour} 1 
 
 Eve and her Daughters} \ 
 
 Evidences of Divine Revelation. I 
 
 Spencer j 
 
 Fall of Jerusalem} 
 
 Fisherman's Boy} 
 
 Frank Merton's Conquest} I 
 
 Fritz Hazell.} Temperance Tales- - 
 
 George Wayland} 
 
 Gospels Written, When Were Our. 
 
 Tisehendorf - -* 
 
 Grace Abbott} 
 
 Groggy Harbor.} Temperance Tales 
 
 Hammond, Capt. M. M. 
 
 Happy Fireside} 
 
 Harry the Whaler} 
 
 Herbert: True Charity.} Minis- 
 tering Children 
 
 Historical Tales for Young Protes- 
 tants}--- 
 
 Holiday Pictures. } 48 pictures - - - 
 
 Horace Carleton's Essay} 
 
 How to Answer Objections to Re- 
 vealed Religion I 
 
 Huguenots, etc., The} - 
 
 Jessica's First Prayer.} Stretton - 
 
 Joe and Sally} I 
 
 Joe Blake's Temptation} I 
 
 John the Baptist 
 
 Joseph and his Brethren} 
 
 Judson, J. C, etc.} 
 
 Kitty Grafton.} Temperance Tales - 
 Life Preserver.} Temperance Tales 
 
 Lilian} - 
 
 Little Bessie, etc.} — 
 
 Little Captain .} Peebles - 
 
 Little Dot, and Angel's Christ- I 
 
 mas.} Walton- 1 
 
 Little Gold Keys} $ 
 
Little Henry and his Bearer} 
 
 Little Meg's Children.! Stretton- 
 
 Little Robbie. } Nellie Grahame - - 
 
 Lizzie Blake} 
 
 Lucy of the West, etc.} 
 
 Lullabies, Ditties, and Tales} 
 
 Man of his Word.} Stretton. 16mo 
 
 Marie Manning and Others} 
 
 Martyr People, etc.} 
 
 Mirage of Life} 
 
 Morning Glory, etc.* 
 
 My Mother's Gold Ring.} Temper- 
 ance Tales 
 
 Natural Theology, Youth's Book 
 of.} Gallaudet 
 
 "Never Say Die" - 
 
 Night and a Day, A.} Stretton- - - 
 
 Oakfleld Lodge} — 
 
 Old Kitchen Fire.} Colored Fron- 
 tispiece 
 
 Old, Old Story.} Sq. 18mo 
 
 Onward. 16mo - 
 
 Ore Bank, etc.} 
 
 Ojfient 
 
 Our Father. $ Col'd Frontispiece - 
 
 Our Katie* 
 
 Our Sympathizing High Priest - - - 
 
 Out in the Playground* 
 
 Page, Harlan 
 
 Patience.* Ministering Children- 
 
 Patoo.T. H., etc* - --- 
 
 Paul, History of the Apostle* 
 
 Penny Tract, etc.* 
 
 Perfect Law, The 
 
 Persecutions in Scotland* 
 
 Peters, Anzonette R. 
 
 Pictures and Stories for Little 
 Ones* 
 
 Pilgrim Boy* 
 
 Pilgrim's Progress.* Part 1st 
 
 Premium, etc., The 
 
 Promised One, The* 
 
 Putnam and the Wolf, etc. J 
 
 Rachel's Lilies* 
 
 Rachel White's Fault* 
 
 Rescued Child. The* 
 
 Rescued Lamb} 
 
 Riverside Farmhouse 15 
 
 Rose, Little Comforter.} Minister- 
 ing Children - - 15 
 
 Ruth and Little Jane.} Minister- 
 ing Children 10 
 
 Sandy's Faith. J 16mo 15 
 
 Scripture Animals} 15 
 
 Solomon, Life of} 5 
 
 Songs for my Children! 15 
 
 Stage Coach, No. l.J Temperance 
 
 Tales- — - 10 
 
 Stage Coach, No. 2.} Temperance 
 
 Tales -- 10 
 
 Stories for SundayJ 20 
 
 Stories for the Little Ones} 10 
 
 Strangers in Greenland} 10 
 
 Sweet Story of Old}- 10 
 
 Talks and Stories about Prayer - - 15 
 
 Talks on Home Life. 16mo ---*-- 15 
 
 Taylor, J. E. J., etc} --- 10 
 
 Temperance Meeting in Tatter- 
 town.} Temperance Tales 10 
 
 Three Gifts 10 
 
 Too Fast and Too Far.} Temper- 
 ance Tales 10 
 
 Vandeleur, Major A. 10 
 
 Vicars, Hedley - - 10 
 
 Wanderer, The, etc.} 10 
 
 Well Enough for the Vulgar.} 
 
 Temperance Tales - 10 
 
 Whiter Than Snow, and Good An- 
 gels* ---- 10 
 
 White Water-Lily, The J 5 
 
 Will Thornton* — 5 
 
 Winnie's Temptation, etc. * 10 
 
 Wirt, A. C, etc.*- 10 
 
 Wise, J., etc.*-- • - 10 
 
 Workman, The. J. P. Thompson, 
 
 D. d. 25 
 
 Young Hop-Pickerst 10 
 
 The "Temperance Tales." 12 vol- 
 umes in a box* ---$125 
 
 The "Ministering Children." 4 
 volumes in a wrapper* 50 
 
Wall Rolls. 
 
 THOUGHTS FOR THE DAY. A Wall Roll with Scriptural and- 
 poetical selections in harmony with a leading thought for each day. "With 
 suggested Bible readiugs lor the year. Mounted on walnut roller. 32 pp. 
 75 cts. 
 
liIGHT ON MFE'S PATH. A selection of passages for every day 
 i the month, with a leading text. Elegant, large type, and black walnut 
 iller. 32 pp. 75 cts. 
 
 MORNING SUNBEAMS. Selected by Mrs. Prentiss for daily use. 
 arge Roll same as the above. Large, clear type, easy to read across the 
 torn. 32 pp. 75 cts. 
 
 PICTORIAL WAJjIj ROLIi. A choice full-page picture on each 
 ige, with a few lines of suggestive explanation. Pictures tell a whole 
 ory without a word. Mounted on walnut roller. Size, 13 by 20 inches. 
 ! pp. 75 cts. 
 
 Tead me to the rock that ? 
 higher than 1. pm .«, :2 . 
 
 Who is a rock save our 
 
 God? Psa. 18:31. 
 
 For thou hast been a 
 shelter for me, and a strong 
 tower from the enemy. 
 
 Psa. 61: 3. 
 
 For thou hast been a 
 strength to the needy in his 
 distress, a refuge from the 
 storm, a shadow from the 
 
 heat. Isa. 25:4. 
 
 And the peace of God, 
 which passeth all under- 
 standing, shall keep your 
 hearts and minds through 
 [Christ Jesus, m. *. 7 . . J 
 
10 
 
 BiblaB. Helps. 
 
 Dictionary of the Bible. Revised edition. Over 200,000 sol', 
 360 illustrations, 18 maps. 720 pp. 8vo. Cloth, $2; sheep, $2 50; morocct 
 $3 50; Levant, $5. 
 
 Crnden's Concordance. 561pp. 8vo. Cloth, $1; sheep, $2 25. 
 
 Bible Text-Book. A topical concordance, with maps, index© 
 chronologies, and tables of various kinds. 232 pp. 12mo. Cloth, 90 cts. \ 
 
 Hanim's Life of Christ. 20 engravings. Cloth, $1 50. 
 
 Stalker's Life of Paul. With map. Cloth, 60 cts. 
 
 Stalker's Life of Christ. Cloth, 60 cts. 
 
 Schaff's Throngh Bible Lands. 31 maps and illustration! 
 
 Cloth, $2 25. 
 
 Studies in Mark's Gospel. Rev. C. S. Robinson, D. D. 12m< 
 
 Cloth, $1 25; paper, 50 cts. 
 
 From Samuel to Solomon. Rev. C. S. Robinson, D. D. 12m< 
 
 Cloth, $1 25; paper, 50 cts. 
 
 Barrows' Sacred Geography. Cloth, $2 25. 
 Barrows' Companion to the Bible. Cloth, $1 75. 
 
 Gage's Studies in Bible Lands. 60 illustrations, 12 man 
 
 Cloth, $1 25. 
 
 Howson's Scenes from the Life of St. Paul. Illustrate! 
 
 Cloth, $1. 
 
 Gosse's Sacred Streams. 44 engravings and a map. Cloth, $1 2, 
 
 Schauffler's Meditations on the Last Days of Christ 
 
 Cloth, $1 50. 
 
 Locke's Commonplace-Book of the Holy Bible. Cloth, $1 
 
 Bible Reader's Help. With two maps. A good book for Sabbatl 
 schools, as a small Bible Dictionary. Cloth, 40 cts. ; paper, 20 cts. 
 
 Pocket Concordance. A new compilation. Cloth, 60 cts.; m< 
 rocco, limp, $1 25 Net. 
 
 Bible Atlas and Gazetteer. Super-royal octavo. 32 pp. Si 
 fine large maps, a full list of all the geographical names in Scripture, wf 
 a valuable series of tables. Cloth, $1 25. 
 
— 11 — 
 Teagher's BiBLaE.S. 
 
 NEW MINION " TYPE, 6% inches long, 5 ins. wide, V/ A ins. 
 thick. References between the verses. This is the book so 
 highly recommended by Ralph "Wells, of New "York, 
 and. others* 
 
 Morocco, leather-lined, round corners, gilt edges - $3 50 
 
 For Text-Book Edition, order No. 184. 
 
 For Concordance Edition, order No. 214. 
 Levant, kid-lined, silk-sewed, round corners, red under gold 
 
 edges, with pocket - --- -- 5 00 
 
 For Text-Book Edition, order No. 185. 
 
 For Concordance Edition, order No. 215. 
 
 LARGE PRINT " EDITION, 1% ins. long, 5# ins. wide, 1# 
 ins. thick. References in centre of page. 
 
 Turkey morocco, limp or stiff 4 00 
 
 Levant morocco, kid-lined, full-flexible, silk-sewed, protecting 
 
 edges, round corners, with pocket -- 10 00 
 
 Same as above, but containing the Eible Text-Book and Con- 
 cordance, together with all the other helps found in both 
 editions. No. 227 - - 1100 
 
 ARGE PAPER (Wide Margin; EDITION, 8^ ins. long, 
 6 ins. wide, 1% ins. thick. References in centre of page. With 
 inch margin and 24 blank pages for notes, Scripture Index, New 
 Maps, etc. 
 
 Levant morocco, kid-lined, full-flexible, silk-sewed, protecting 
 
 edges, round corners, with pocket. No. 199 - 11 00 
 
 ARGE PAPER (Wide Margin) EDITION. The above book, 
 with Bible Text-Book instead of the Scripture Index, everything 
 else being the same. 
 
 Levant morocco, kid-lined, silk-sewed, protecting edges, with 
 
 pocket, round corners. No. 201 12 00 
 
 IBLE STUDENT'S EDITIONS. Full-faced Bourgeois type, 
 three sizes larger than Bagster's largest 8vo, with Bible Student's 
 Manual, comprising Chronological Index, Maps, Charts, Harmo- 
 nies, etc. 8% ins. long, 6 ins. wide, 1% thick. 
 
 Levant morocco, or Sealskin, kid-lined, silk-sewed, full-flexible, 
 
 with pocket, round corners. Order No. 350 10 00 
 
 The same book containing in addition to the above matter 
 
 our revised Bible Text-Book. Order No. 355 11 00 
 
12 
 
 BiBLaR.8 jf TRSTAMRNTa 
 
 FAMILY BIBL.E, with Notes and Instructions. Size, ll| 
 by 9%, and 3 inches thick. This valuable edition of the Bible has been issuei 
 in a new form, making it a most convenient book for family use. 
 
 The Notes and Explanations are concise, and at the same time give tni 
 results of the best study; and the authors had no theory to establish, bti 
 simply to show what is the mind of the Spirit regarding the Word. 
 
 It contains Explanatory Notes and Practical Instructions by Rev. Justil 
 Edwards, D. D., revised by Prof. E. P. Barrows. 
 
 Roan, panelled sides, gold stamp, sprinkled or marbled edge $6 I 
 
 Persian morocco, panelled sides, gilt edge- 7 5 
 
 Turkey " " " 12 
 
 Levant " bevelled boards, tooled sides, sewed full- flexible 14 
 
 A HEW CHEAP EDITION. Prepared expressly for this valuabl 
 work at a price that will come within the reach of all. It contains, beside 
 the Harmony of the Gospels, Chronology, Maps, Tables of Weights am 
 Measures, and Family Record, eight elegant illustrations, and is strongl, 
 bound. 
 
 Roan, blank side stamp, sprinkled edge- $4 
 
 NEW TESTAMENT AND PSAI.MS. These portions of th 
 Family Bible, with Notes, Maps, Tables, etc., are published separately in s 
 handsome royal octavo volume of 524 pp. Size, 1% by 11 ins., y A in. thick. 
 
 Cloth, $1 75; cloth gilt, $2 50; sheep, $3. 
 
 THE POCKET BIBLE. Three volumes with Notes, Instructions 
 Maps, and Tables. 2,676 pp. Small l2mo. Size, per set, 4^ ins. wide, 6} 
 ins. long, 3% ins. thick. This edition contains all the notes and instruction 
 that are in the large edition, and will do much to popularize and increase 
 the usefulness of this invaluable woi'k. 
 
 Three volumes, cloth, $3. 
 
 THE POCKET TESTAMENT. Over 175,000 circulated. Th. 
 New Testament is also printed in a neat and complete small 12mo edition 
 for the use of young people, Sabbath-schools, etc. With Maps, Harmony o 
 the Gospels, Chronologies, etc. 810 pp. Size, 5 by 7 inches. 
 
 Cloth, $1; cloth gilt, $1 40: sheep, $1 50. 
 
13 
 
 Sunday-School Cards. 
 
 ). CTS. 
 
 L.ABC Picture Cards. 28 in a packet. 4^ by 3^ inches 20 
 
 , A Card of the Ten Commandments. In clear type. b% 
 
 hj3% ins. - --- --- 1 
 
 Alphabet Card. With Lord's Prayer and Commandments in 
 verse. hy 2 by 3% ins. -- --- 1 
 
 t. Bible Cards. 96 in a packet, each with a short text and col- 
 ored printed border. 2^byl^ins. -- 15 
 
 .. Bible Flowers. A choice packet of the flowers of the Holy Land, 
 painted from nature by Miss Bird. 12 cards with different texts. 
 3 by 5 ins. - 20 
 
 ». Bible Words. 144 cards in bright colors, with different texts- - - 25 
 
 t. Children of the Year. 12 fine cards with easel backs to 
 stand upon table, with ideal heads, by Miss Lathbury, illustra- 
 ting the seasons, with carefully selected texts. 4%; by hy 2 ins. - - 25 
 
 ». Faithful Sayings. 12 floral cards with texts. Net 12 
 
 i. Floral Texts, B. 96 cards. 2% by 1% ins. 20 
 
 ). Floral Texts, C. 144 cards. 1# by 1% ins - 25 
 
 i. Gems from the Psalms. A selection of 72 texts from the 
 
 Psalms, in colors. 3% by 2% ins--- - • 20 
 
 >. Gift Cards for Children. In colors, on nice cardboard. 72 
 
 inapacket. 4 by 2^ ins. - - 20 
 
 r. Gospel Words. 12 floral cards, with choice texts, all bearing 
 the ''Good News." 2% by 4^ ins. 15 
 
 . Gracions Invitations. Floral cards, copyright designs. 12 
 cards, with different texts. 4% by 3% ins. Net 12 
 
 S. Guiding Words. Floral cards, designed by a new artist. 12 
 
 cards, 12 texts. 4^ by 3% ins. Net 12 
 
 t. Helps by the Way. Designs by Baroness de Votjga. Ele- 
 gantly printed. Each card has two texts, carefully selected. 12 
 cards, 4 by 6 ins. 24texts. Net 15 
 
14: 
 
 33. High-way and Hedge Cards. 36 in a pack. 2% by 1% ins.- 
 
 66. Jewels. Floral cards with heads similar to No. 65. 12 cards, 3 
 
 by 4% ins. 12 texts. Net ] 
 
 3. Xiittle Gems from the Mine. (Book Makes.) 12 original 
 water color designs, on finest cardboard, with charming texts. 
 3% by l^ins.-- - 1 
 
 65. Manna for the Day. 12 floral cords with heads of children, 
 from designs by Miss Lathbury. 12 cards, 3 by 4% ins. 12 
 texts. Net - - 1 
 
 5. Mottoes for the Memory from Holy Writ. A bright, 
 sparkling, and beautiful packet of 12 cards. 3^ by 2^4 ins. 3 
 
 4:1. "Overcomes" of the Bible. Charming floral designs, with 
 
 texts as indicated by the title. 12 cards, 12 texts. 5% by 3 ins. - J 
 
 4:. Photograph Reward Cards. 2 packs of 12 cards each. A 
 nice picture, a text, and verses on each card. 4 by 2% ins. Per 
 pack - - 2 
 
 38. Pictnre Cards for Children. Neatly enveloped. In two 
 
 packets, each 54 large cards. 5 }£ by 3% ins. Per pack J 
 
 37. Pocket Cards. 72 in a packet. 4 by 2^ ins. 5 
 
 30. Precious Truths. 12 of the finest floral cards ever issued. 
 
 Suited for older scholars. 4% by Z% ins. - - - i 
 
 34:. Questions and Answers. A packet of 80 cards, questions 
 
 with Bible answers. 3by2ins. 1 
 
 Red and Blue Tickets. 125 on a sheet. Per sheet 1 
 
 49. Sure Promises from God's Word. 72 cards, printed in 
 
 colors, with texts S 
 
 75. Texts and Symbols. A series of beautifully designed cards in 
 10 colors and gold, with texts and fitting symbols. Fitted with 
 easel backs to stand upon table. 12 cards, 4% by 5% ins. - 2 
 
 70. Texts for the Infant Class. 200 cards. 1% by % ins. Net - 1 
 
 61. Thanksgivings. 1st Series. Elegant floral cards with texts. 
 
 24 cards, 24 texts. 3% by 2% ins. - 1 
 
 63. Thanksgivings. 2d Series. Same general style as 1st series, 
 
 but different designs and texts. 24 cards, 24 texts 1 
 
 39. Thirty-six Picture Cards of the Life of Christ. With 
 
 a colored border and a nice engraving, followed by Scripture on 
 one side and a beautiful hymn on the other. by 2 by 3% ins. 2 
 
15 
 
 Vest Focfcet Cards for Old and Young. 48 in a packet. 
 3% by 2% ins. - - io 
 
 Views in the Holy Land. A packet of 12 cards with easel 
 backs to stand upon table, with views of prominent scenes in 
 Bible Lands, wild flowers from the same country, and appro- 
 priate texts. 4^ by 5% ins. 25 
 
 "Watchwords. 1st Series. Floral designs, with appropriate texts. ■ 
 24 cards, 24 texts. 3^ by 2^ ins. — 15 
 
 Watchwords. 2d Series. Same kind of card as No. 59, but all 
 different. 24 cards, 24 texts. 3>iby2^ins 15 
 
 "Whosoerers" of the Bible. 12 cards of elegant roses, 
 with texts. 4% by 314 ins. Net 12 
 
 Words in Season. A packet of birds, flowers, and texts that 
 cannot fail to please and instruct. 12 cards. 3 by 4y z ins. 15 
 
 Words of Eternal Life. Most elegant floral cards, original de- 
 signs. 12 cards, i2 texts. 5 by ty^ ins. Net--- 12 
 
 Words of Faith. 12 fine floral cards, with different texts 20 
 
 Words of Grace. 1st Series. Charming floral designs. 12 
 cards, 12 texts. 5 by 3% ins. - - 20 
 
 Words of Grace. 2d Series. Different designs from 1st series. 
 12 cards, 12 texts. 5 by 3% ins. 20 
 
 Words of Promise. 1st Series. Floral cards, something en- 
 tirely new in designs. 12 cards, 12 texts. 5 'by zy% ins. 20 
 
 Words of Promise. 2d Series. Same kind as 1st series, but 
 
 different designs and texts. 12 cards, 12 texts. 5 by 3^ ins. - - - 20 
 
 Words of Strength. 12 cards, from original designs by Bar- 
 clay, with selections from Scripture. 5 by 3j^ ins. Net 12 
 
 Words of the King. A packet from original designs with fine 
 flowers in twelve colors, special attention paid to the selection of 
 texts. 12 cards, 12 texts. 4by6ins. Net 15 
 
 Words of the Master. Some of the most beautiful flowers of 
 our own land, painted from nature by Miss Bird. 12 texts, 12 
 cards in a packet. 3 by 5 ins.-- 20 
 
 Words of Trnth. Vases with flowers from original designs, 
 with texts. 12 texts, 12 cards. 5 by 4 ins. Net 12 
 
 Words for the Weary Ones. Four choice cards, beautifully 
 printed in colors, with readings from Havergal and others. 
 4% by 1% ins 25 
 
STAR LIBRARY. 
 
 — ♦ — 
 
 A new and attractive Sunday-school library of 
 
 One hundred 16mo- Yolumes. 
 
 Each volume beautifully illustrated and strongly! 
 bound in cloth, with gilt back. Over 15,000 pages, 
 of reading, in large, legible type, 
 
 In a Handsome Chestnut Case. 
 
 Every Sunday-school, before looking elsewhere, 
 should examine this large set of excellent books whicl 
 is offered at an extremely low price, 
 
 ONLY TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS, NET. 
 
 Hmeriean Bract Societq 
 
 150 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 
 BOSTON, 54 Bromfield Street. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, 1512 Chestnut Street. 
 ROCHESTER, 93 State Street. 
 CHICAGO, 122 Wabash Avenue. 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO, 735 Market Street. 
 
^7M 
 
 EDGECOMBE PUBLIC LIBRARY 
 
 TARBDR-O, N. C. 
 
 1 . Books may not be kept longer than two 
 weeks without renewal. 
 
 2 A fine of five cents a day shall be paid 
 on each book which is not returned according 
 to the above rule. No book shall be issued to 
 any person incurring such fine, until it has 
 been paid. 
 
 3. All injuries to books beyond reasonable 
 wear and all losses shall be made good to the 
 satisfaction of the librarian. (Marking a book, 
 even with a lead pencil, turning down the 
 corners of pages, or "dog-earing" will be con- 
 sidered an injury.) 
 
 4. An additional fee of 25 cents will be 
 charged on overdue books for which it is neces- 
 sary to send a messenger.