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 Title Page
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Group Title: The Army with banners : a story of every day life
Title: The Army with banners
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00002248/00001
 Material Information
Title: The Army with banners a story of every day life
Physical Description: 191 p. : ill. ; 16 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Massachusetts Sabbath School Society ( Publisher )
Massachusetts Sabbath School Society -- Committee of Publication
Publisher: Massachusetts Sabbath School Society
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: 1852
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children and death -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Courage -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Embossed cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1852   ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1852
Genre: Embossed cloth bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Statement of Responsibility: by the author of "The thistle blow,"... etc. ; written for the Massachusetts Sabbath School Society, and approved by the Committee of Publication.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
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Bibliographic ID: UF00002248
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002221287
oclc - 45839783
notis - ALG1508
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Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front page 1
        Front page 2
        Front page 3
    Title Page
        Page iii
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        Page v
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    Table of Contents
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Full Text



The Baldwin Library
(m'B loida







Written for the MauachuaetU Sabbath School Society, and
approved by the Cmmittee of Publication.

Depository, No. 13 Cornhill.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.


THERE is a deep and earnest import in those words of
Scripture, which assure us that a little leaven leaveneth
the whole lump." One spark of earnest Christianity, al-
ways reveals itself at last, as belonging to that fire, which,
" many waters cannot quench-neither the floods drown."
One seed of gospel truth finding its way into good ground,
ensures an abundant harvest. One morsel of the "living
bread cast believingly even upon the heedless waters, will
return after many days, multiplied as were the five loaves
among the five thousand. Encouraging thought this, to the
Christian soldier when called to keep his weary night
watch alone. It was once the Author's happiness to see a
signal victory of truth over error, and thus to understand
how in the great battle between the Prince of this world,
and the Angel of the Covenant, one can chase a thousand,
and two, put ten thousand to flight. From the scenes and
incidents connected with this struggle and victory, the
Author has written this simple story of every day life,
telling the story (nearly as possible), as it was told to her.



Retrospection-Memory's chord-Sudden Bereavement
-Reflections-Early Instructions-The only son of a
widow-The river-The command-Thoughts on
man's first sin-The faithful monitor-The kind
neighbor-The new acquaintance-The first disobe-
dience. 11

Providential escape-The new resolution-The old
church-The old Pastor-Hostile communities-The
earnest Christian-Sowing in tears-Outward appear-
ance and the heart-Joyful surprise. 27

Foot-prints upon the sand-Sabbath-breaking-S.
School and Bible class-The answer-Good services
and good wages-The invincibles-The young Christ-
ian-The important decision-The struggle. 85

The ssaar of life-Slent i" i Rmu
la tb .-Wthaud rf adL .. 49



Soldier at his post-The standard-Sympathy with
Christ-The night watch-Painful thoughts-Dis-
pirited mother-Resolutions-Sabbath call-Resolu-
tion broken-Ashamed of the cross-The wicked
hand in hand-One spirit free-Perfect weakness. 55


Independence day-The old boll-Factory bells-The
still small voice-Enticed by sinners-Disobedient
son-Dying Father-Dangerous trifling company in
the woods-Disturbance-Galling yoke 70


Evening of the fourth-Sad discovery-Broken reeds-
Dark days-Honest labor a safeguard to virtue-With-
out God-Hatred and Defiance 92


Liberty of Satan's slaves-Seeking Employment-Dis-
couragements-Awkward predicament-The engage-
ment-New associations-First day's work. 102


Away from home-Loneline-s-Counting Money-
Pleasant surprise-Cove~tatin-veniog prayer. 112



The hour of death-Reflections-New temptations-Be-
ing something-One night with the dying-The more
convenient season. ........ 116


Fisher's Point-Dreary prospect-The walk-Granny
Gould-Confusion-The thunder-storm-Dreary morn-
ing-Large bill-Stolen horse-Ride home. 128


The Dismissal-The friend in need-The recital-Sick-
ness-Recovery-Serious conversation-Decision. 142


Return home-Pleasant note-Mutual confession-Fam-
ily altar-At work again-Visit to the city-The dis-
closure-Uncle Thomas-Farewell note-Home again. 159


God in the Pestilence-The Christian in the hour of
darkness-The letter-The removal. 176






Retrospection. Memory's chord. Sudden bereavement Re-
flections. Early instructions. The only son of a widow.
The river. The command. Thoughts on man's first sin.
The faithful monitor. The kind neighbor. The new ac-
quaintance. The first disobedience. The disaster. The
sting of forbidden pleasures.

THE time does not seem long in looking
back, yet it was years ago that my father
died. Some doubt the power of memory
to retain its hold upon scenes enacted
within the pale of our infantile days, yet
at the time of Death's first visit at our
house, I was almost an infant, I was rocked


to sleep nightly in my mother's arms, and
fed from a spoon as I sat upon her knee.
I remember this, for I was eating my sup-
per in this way, one evening, when a large
tear fell from my mother's eye, and lighted
upon my chubby little hand. A tear from
my mother's eye, was a new thing to me,
and I held up my mouth to kiss, and make
her well. But she did not smile as for-
merly. She only carried me to a room,
dear to my baby heart, because it was the
one wherein I oftenest saw my father, who
romped with me, and carried me upon his
My Father was there now, but he no
longer stretched his hand towards me.
He was lying upon the bed, and when
mother drew near, and allowed me to lay
my hand upon his pale face, I remember
even now, the feeling of chilliness which
crept over my little frame, and the cry of
terror which burst from my infant lips.
I never saw my father again, but memory
had ascended her throne to live and reign,


While life and thought and being last,
Or immortality endures.

Time passed on, and I became more
familiar with death. I understood that my
father had gone whence he would not
return, and what people meant when they
called my mother a. widow, and me, "a
fatherless boy"-and when a few more
years had passed, I learned how suddenly
I was bereaved, for they told me that my
father was a fine healthy man, and bid
fair for long life. That he was planting
trees and shrubbery about our cottage, and
making great preparations for a beautiful
home, when all at once death came, and
cut him down as with a stroke, and they
thought for a time, so grief-stricken was
my fair young mother, that she must die
too. Well-when I heard this story, I
blamed death exceedingly, and thought
him a tyrant indeed; for I did not then
know that death is the messenger of Him,
who doeth all things well, and that the
good, having passed his iron gate, hunger
and thirst no more.


Thus early in life did memory fasten
upon solemn scenes, upon objects of serious
thought. But it is not alone upon the strik-
ing occurrences which startled my infancy
into premature recollection, that memory
fixes itself sadly as it flies back to the
p ist. No matter how sad our remem-
brances, if they are but innocent; if we
can think of days and years gone by
without one pang of remorse, let us be
thankful, but, alas for the day of our
first transgression. The day when know-
ing good from evil, we deliberately make
choice of the wrong. Then, my young
readers, we cast a dark shadow upon
memory's pathway, a shadow which
through all life's wanderings, will follow
her darkly, making her not merely sad,
but often sorrowful in the extreme. Re-
member then, whatever the trials of child-
hood, nothing but sin will leave a lasting
sting; disappointed of earthly hopes-be-
reaved of friends, assailed by poverty, mis-
fortune, sickness-even if wronged, op-
pressed, and injured, fear not. If you are


not sinful, if with all this, there is no
wicked deed, memory will look back when
years have passed, sadly, perhaps, but
with no fearful accusation. Earthly dis-
appointments and crosses, if patiently en-
dured, always bestow on us an infinite
good, as a reward for what is taken away
-death too, is a great reward to the righte-
ous; even in this world they learn to regard
him as a friend.
My mother was not a religious woman,
though she loved the right, and venerated
the good. I was early taught to avoid
evil, not however as sin, but as meanness-
my mother sought most earnestly to im-
press upon my mind the dignity of my
moral nature, and its capabilities for in-
finite improvement. She tried too, to make
me understand how fallen and degraded I
should become, in allowing myself to be in
any wise dishonest or untrue-I loved my
mother, and during a few of my earliest
years, I loved virtue for her sake; but no
merely human will has ever yet proved
itself stronger than fallen human nature.


I was yet a boy when I felt as did a sacred
writer, that my will to the right was over-
ruled, and brought into captivity by the
law in my members. But I must now tell
you of my first day of willful transgression.
I have repented the doings of that day,
and hope they are blotted from the Book
of God's remembrance," nevertheless, they
stand written darkly upon memory's page,
and make a bitter dreg in her cup.
It is no wonder that a widow dotes upon
her only son. We read in Scripture of the
only son of his mother and she a widow:
this was to give us an idea of deep affec-
tion sorely wounded. My mother loved me;
her heart stricken as with an early blight,
had found a new object for its earnest love,
and so it revived and hoped again.
My mother having been so suddenly
startled from security by death's alarm, had
always a painful sense of the uncertainty
of life; and an abiding fear that her last
earthly hope, would be dashed in a mo-
ment. In the rear of our cottage was a
hill, and beneath that hill (the delight of


boys) a noble river, upon which there were
mills, and rafts, and logs. The little boys
of the village played upon this river-
shore-sometimes found their way down
stream upon a raft, and often ven-
tured from the land upon a 'jam' of logs.
They often invited me to go with them to
the river; but with great decision of man-
ner my mother always said No. This was
not overcarefulness, though it might seem
thus; the river was deep and broad, the
banks steep and dangerous, and among
the dead slumbering in our village church-
yard, there were many of almost every age
who had first found a watery grave be-
neath the dark current of that rapid river.
Indeed, there was seldom a summer which
did not add some to death's garner in this
way. We often saw the industrious mill-
man, the sturdy raftsman, the careless
boy, and playful little child, borne from
that river-shore upon a bier. What won-
der then if the careful widowed mother
had guarded her heart's treasure by a com-
mand so strict, for as I grew older, it


seemed strict. The boys told me that it
was foolishly so-"To think," said they,
" that you, a great boy, are never to visit
the river without a protector. You must
have a little spirit or your mother will keep
you forever dangling at her apron strings."
When God placed Adam in the beautiful
Paradise of Eden, of all those fruitful
trees, wonderful no doubt in their rich-
ness, and beauty, he allowed him to eat
of all, save one. Why did he turn with
sudden distaste from all these, and fix his
longing eye upon the only forbidden tree ?
Alas, for him, and for us all-he was be-
guiled, and from that hour we became sus-
ceptible of like evil influence. Grown up
men and women, with little children, offer
the same excuse for sin now, as did Adam
for the first sin upon earth. I was in-
fluenced," says the poor criminal, standing
upon the verge of time, from which a
violent death will soon launch him into
eternity, "I was influenced, by wicked
companions, to choose the only forbidden
path, and it has led me to this dreadful


end." So say all; even the little child
offers for excuse that he was coaxed into
wrong doing. This, considering our fallen
nature, might be offered as an excuse,
if God in his infinite mercy had not pro-
vided a strong hold whereto we can run
and be saved. Added to this, he has sta-
tioned a monitor, a faithful watch, in every
heart, which amid the darkness of nature's
night, the fierce struggle of passion unsub-
dued, and affection unsanctified, still keeps
its post, holding its lamp on high, that we
may see the dangers that surround us,
warning, reproving of sin, of righteousness,
and of a judgment to come. The name of
this faithful monitor, this untiring watch, is
Conscience. Who will say, that until seared
by our sins, as with an hot iron, it does not
remain true to its trust ? but the day will
come, when though seared and silenced
here, it will speak, in tones fearful to the
sinner's heart. I had not as yet offended
against this faithful monitor; not grossly,
at least. My childish errors had been un-
intentional, and had left no dark shadow



upon my young spirit, but the day had
now come, when the Serpent sought to be-
guile me, and found a poor heart all ready
for his subtle snare. One week had not
passed since a neighbor's son, one of my
school-fellows, had been borne from the
river to his final resting-place, and mother,
whose fears had been revived by an occur-
rence so mournful, had made me renew the
promise often given, that I would never
visit the river without her permission.
There was a wealthy man residing near
us, who had shown my mother great kind-
ness, for though we were not absolutely
poor, still, we were not so rich as to be
unfit subjects for kind and generous con-
sideration on the part of our neighbors, and
Mr. Atwood was emphatically a kind man,
who never in my mother's dealings with
him, extorted the last jot and tittle, even
though she considered it justly due. This
generosity, added to the sisterly kindness
of his amiable wife, won the confidence
and affection of my mother, and from year
to year, she lived on terms of great in-


timacy with these wealthy neighbors. Mr.
and Mrs. Atwood had no children of their
own, but near the time of which I am now
writing, an only sister of Mr. A's, who
lived in a distant city, was suddenly be-
reaved of her husband, and their only
child, a boy more than two years my
senior, came to live with his uncle Atwood.
Some wondered how this lady who was
the widow of a rich merchant in the city,
and was able to live in the most expensive
style, should part with her only child, but
the thing did not long excite wonder, for
George Boyd, though an exceedingly hand-
some, and bright boy, soon showed that he
had never been held in with bit and bridle,
and was now too stong to be restrained
solely by a mother's authority. Mr. At-
wood loved his sister tenderly, and was
proud of her noble boy, and though he
soon raised a breeze in our quiet village,
and people complained loudly of his law-
less conduct, it was evident that with Mr.
and Mrs. Atwood his wit and beauty cov-
ered a multitude of sins. Notwithstanding,



he gave them much trouble, and was the
source of much anxiety. My mother feared
greatly on account of the ascendency this
handsome boy soon gained over me, (for I
was completely captivated by his brilliant
wit,) but she could not risk offending her
dear friends, by forbidding an intimacy be-
tween George and myself which increased
daily. She therefore set a double watch
upon my conduct, encouraged me to talk to
her without reserve, which for a long time
I did, and while doing so, was compara-
tively safe; but at last, George began little
by little, to encourage me in acts of dis-
obedience, and then my great love for him,
sealed my lips; I would not confess to her
that George tried to persuade me to do
what my own conscience told me was
wrong, and in ceasing to be frank with my
mother, I lost a defence against temptation.
"I like your mother," said George, "but
you are old enough to know that women
are afraid of every thing. City boys never
think of minding their mothers, if they did,
they never would become men." It was a


beautiful morning early in summer that
George talked in this way to me, he was
trying to entice me to the river. "It is not
without reason," said I, that my mother
is fearful here, though I have no fears for
myself. It is dangerous for boys to do as
you, George, and many others do at the
river. Boys are frequently drowned there."
" Well," answered George, "men are fre.-
quently drowned at sea, but would you
say that for this reason, nobody should
venture from land?" But," I persisted,
"my mother loves me dearly, George, and
I love her; it would grieve her sadly to
find me a disobedient boy, perhaps it
would make her sick." 0, as to that,"
he replied, the sooner she learns that you
must think, and act for yourself, the
better-my mother gave up the matter of
controlling me long before I left the city.
If your mother once sees that you can go
to the river with other boys, and come
home alive, she will soon be rid of her
foolish fears." It was thus we talked,
while walking slowly towards the river,



and I was persuading myself that George
must be right, and my poor heart had no
occasion for its unquiet beating; yet not-
withstanding all his arguments, and my
reasoning, I often paused and looked back
to where our white cottage sat in the cool
shade of the elm-tree, and thinking of the
dear mother who had loved me all my life
long, and now trusted me so fondly, I
wished myself there. But I had not the
fear of God before my eyes; and let me
assure my young friends, it is this fear
alone, that will impart true moral courage,
and make us valiant in our combats with
the wrong. While in this state of indeci-
sion, we suddenly came in sight of that
noble river. "See," said George, "there
are the boys with their raft," and ran
eagerly forward, while I, forgetful of my
mother, and of my duty, quickly followed.
"Will you come upon our raft?" shouted
the boys, as they were about putting off
from the shore. I should advise you not
to go," said a man, who with a yoke of
oxen was fastening a chain to a log, that


raft is not a safe concern for this part of
the river;" but George gave no heed to
this advice, and in a few moments was
upon the raft. "Quick, Edgar," said the
boys pointing their oars at me; but I hesi-
tated. He is afraid that his mother will
punish him," said George tauntingly. Then
I felt the strange shame which, alas, for
our fallen nature, is often felt, a shame of
doing right, and with one bound, I cleared
the shore, and amid the cheers of these
careless boys, landed upon that ricketty
craft, which was now rapidly making its
way down stream. "Now," whispered
George, "you will be a man-your mother
will see that you can take care of your-
self." I made no reply; it was my first
deliberate transgression against her au-
thority, and notwithstanding all that was
said in my praise, I felt sick at heart. The
raft kept its way down the river, till at
last my apprehensions of evil became al-
most a certainty. I saw in the distance a
long line of foam extending from shore to
shore. "They are only the 'rips,"' said


George, to whom I had told my fears, the
waterman ofien run these, but we shall
land this side to pick berries." My fears
were therefore quieted for a time, but at
last roused to agony, on seeing that we
had entered a rapid current, and the boys
were not able to manage the raft. Each and
all together used what strength there was,
but the poor raft whirled in the eddy, and
was soon stranded upon the rocks. Then
what confusion, what rushing, what tramp-
ling one upon the other. 1 waked from
this dreadful scene to find myself much
bruised, but still clinging to a plank, which
had borne me down the rapid stream, far
from my home. Here I was rescued from
a watery grave, and completely exhausted,
was carried to the nearest house. After a
few hours they yielded to my earnest en-
treaties to be sent home to my poor mother;
and when I saw in her pale face the an-
guish of her heart, I felt most keenly the
sting which forbidden pleasure always
leaves behind.



Providential escape. The resolution. The old church.
The old pastor. New settlers. Hostile communities.
The earnest Christian. Sowing in tears. The outward
appearance and the heart. Joyful surprise.

GEORGE sat by my side in the old church as
three coffins followed by weeping mourners
were borne along the sacred aisle. I can-
not tell what his reflections were, but
doubtless he thought as I did, that it was a
wonder the three had not been ten, and his
own among the rest. My mother had
talked with me seriously, earnestly, of the
great wrong I had done her in this act of
disobedience, and showed me most vividly
how such conduct if persisted in, would
weaken my moral powers, and make me a
degraded, worthless man; but my dear
mother did not tell me that in sinning
against her, and myself, I had sinned
against God, nor did she tell me to go




penitently to Him, for pardon, even as I
had come to her. I was beginning to feel
my own strength to resist evil but perfect
weakness, yet she talked to me as though
that strength were all-sufficient, and did
not point me to Him whose strength is
made perfect in our weakness, and who
gives to those that trust him power to
stand against the fiery darts of temptation,
and having done all, to stand. Yet deeply
impressed with the mournful scene, and
humbled on account of my own sin, I sat
in the old church that day, and cried, until
my head ached, and my swollen eyes were
red and dim. George did not cry, but he
looked very serious, and I think that I was
not alone that day, in my resolve tobe a
better boy. Weeks passed on and I kept 1his
resolution, for George did not entice me as
formerly, and I was beginning to feel myself
quite a strong-minded boy.
I have once or twice alluded to our old
church. It was old; the giant trees which cast
their shadows upon its moss-grown roof were
not older, and not one of the villagers who


had seen its foundation laid, now trod its
hallowed courts, but slept in its shadow,
while the tall grass waved gently upon
their sunken graves. Our pastor too was
an old man, very old, and though in
several parishes adjacent, Bible classes and
Sabbath schools flourished like green trees
beside the water courses, our parish was
quite content with a forenoon and afternoon
service once a week. But Divine Provi-
dence ordered a change in this respect, a
change demanded by the rapidly increas-
ing population; for in our land of ambitious,
money loving men, a fine river offering
every facility for enterprise, will not long
remain in quiet seclusion. Our sober
old town began to change. The beetle's
droning flight, and the drowsy tinkling
that lulled the distant fold, were no longer
familiar twilight sounds; for the saw-
mill kept up its ceaseless clang, as though
its work was never done, while noisy
groups of young men disturbed the even-
ing stillness of our most retired streets. It
was soon known that but few of our new



settlers went up to the Sanctuary to keep
holy day, por yet staid quietly at home.
Merry skiffs with still merrier companies,
were often seen gliding across the river,
both at morning and evening of the sacred
day, while the woods resounded with
songs, shouts, and the discharge of fowling
pieces. A few good men and women felt
this state of things to be grievous on ac-
count of its moral tendency, but by far the
greatest number professed themselves scan-
dalized by these innovations, and withdrew
from all connection with their riotous
neighbors. The young people of the upper
were strictly forbidden to associate with
those of the lower village, and thus a bar-
rier being placed between the villages, two
parties among the people were soon formed,
and hostile deeds kept pace with defiant
words. Mr. Morse was one of the good
men who would gladly have acted as
peacemaker, and gathered all to one com-
mon fold, but the lower villagers ridiculed
our antiquated notions and caricatured our
venerable pastor, while the opposite class


pursued their sober religious course with
dignified forgetfulness of their neighbors.
Mr. Morse was a highly respectable man,
and had lived for years in the house where
his father and grandfather lived before
him-but before his marriage, had spent
about five years abroad. During that time
he became savingly interested in those
things which pertain to our everlasting
peace; and had happily been placed in a
situation which admitted no contracted
view of the Christian's mission upon earth;
his heart, naturally warm and benevolent,
was so greatly enlarged by Divine grace,
that its continual language was,

The arms of love that compass me,
Would all mankind embrace.

With these expansive views of a world's
want, the great redemption provided, and
the Christian's high responsibility, he had
returned to his native village, married, and
settled down upon the "old place"-but the
lukewarm piety reigning there, the stereo-
typed sermons of our aged pastor, with the



cold nonchalance of his hearers, had not
quenched the flAme of love which glowed
in this good man's breast, for it was fed
by persevering prayer, and fanned by
active labor in the cause dear to his heart.
Mr. Morse did what he could, not what his
Christian zeal prompted, for the coldness
and inactivity of others, were often as dead
weights to his pious efforts. Mr. Morse
is a good man," the people would say,
"but a little over-religious;" yet in the
hour of their extremity, they did not find
him over-tasked with this Divine princi-
ple. Sometimes when what the world calls
misfortune came suddenly upon them, and
their riches took wings and flew away,
then they loved to hear him talk of a
treasure incorruptible, where no moth cor.
rupteth, and no thief approacheth. But
most of all, in the hour of death's sudden
visitations, for death will come suddenly,
even to the folds best watched and tended,
Mr. Morse's religion was never found too
abundant for their urgent need; and he
above all others, was the one desired to


stand with them upon the borders of the
unseen shore, for he was almost the only
man among us that could point the poor
trembling spirit to that Star which still
shines for the penitent and heavily laden-
still reveals the place where a Saviour may
be found.
But faint not ye who toil and row,
Salvation rides the wave.

Mr. Morse often sowed in tears, often
cast his bread upon the waters-and some-
times felt that he fought as one that beat-
eth the air; but the fight of faith is never
uncertain, though victory may be delayed,
and often in things apparently disastrous to
a Christian's hopes, lies the germ of his
final triumph. So was it in the case of
Mr. Morse; he had long kept the quiet
tenor of his Christian way, and possessed
his soul in patience when every hand but
his own had hung down; but now he was
to meet opposition in a more active form,
to arm himself for moral fight, or desert the
standard of his glorious Captain. He saw


the Sabbath profaned, and drunken revelry
taking the place of its holy services, and
he saw what pained him still more, the
prodTssed lovers of truth standing aloof
from these victims of moral disease, leav-
ing them as did the Priest and Levite, the
poor man by the wayside. "Let them
alone," said some sober church-going people;
they will corrupt the morals of our chil-
dren;" but Mr. Morse could not see so vast
a difference in those who were alike chil-
dren of wrath, and strangers to the cove-
nant of promise. We love a pleasant ex-
terior; but let us never forget that God
searcheth the heart. This solemn convic-
tion nerved Mr. Morse in his resolution to
visit the new villagers, and in the spirit of
Christian love to strive to do them good.
He did not expect sympathy, and with
weapons not carnal but mighty, he was
armed for opposition; but God always
makes a plain path for the feet of those
who trust in him, and to his joyful sur-
prise there were some among the new
settlers ready to connect themselves with
any plan for moral improvement.



Foot-prints upon the sand. Sabbath-breaking. The S.
school and Bible class. The answer. The good service
and good wages. The invincibles. The young Christian.
The important decision. The struggle.

To the unregenerate heart serious impres-
sions are often like foot-prints upon the
sand, they pass away, and leave no trace
behind. Death is a stern monitor, and we
always meet his solemn warnings with
pious resolves. So did George and myself
on that day when three of our young com-
panions were laid side by side in the church-
yard. It was then we reflected on the
wonderful Providence which snatched us
from a like fate, a fate richly merited be-
cause of our reckless disobedience. I will
be obedient and careful, said I to myself;
I will choose what my conscience com-
mends as right, whoever may tempt me to
the wrong; but I have before told you that




my strength was not equal to these reso-
lutions, and I knew not as yet the foun-
tain open to my spirit's need. A few weeks
found me quite as shorn of moral power as
I had ever been. I often resolved anew,
but my resolutions were like a rope of
sand, for George had obtained complete
mastery over me, and led me wherever he
would. Both he and myself were forbidden
all intercourse with the boys of the lower
village, yet we met them frequently, and
often upon the Sabbath day. We went
out upon the river, wandered in the woods
in search of game, played cricket, and
pitched pennies. My mother was not
aware of the extent to which I was going,
for a disobedient boy will not long remain
a truthful boy; and I had many ways by
which I quieted her fears, and blinded her
eyes. It was during one of my Sabbath
visits to this place that I heard of the S.
school and Bible class recently established
there by Mr. Morse. "Nobody thought,"
said the young fellow who with many a
curse was speaking of the matter, "that


Mr. Morse would make the thing go.
Some threatened that they would tear the
house down over their heads; but there
has been no disturbance yet, and it is said
that the school is rapidly increasing. A
lot of young fellows who have come over
from S-- to work in the mills, have
gone into the thing, and they are making
fun enough for us. Nobody has heard
them swear, since they have been in the
place, and they go up every Sabbath to
hear your old parson preach." "1 should
like to go into that Bible class," said
George, with a knowing wink. It would
make sport for us," said young Eaton, and
finally we all agreed to go. The place of
their meeting was a school-house, a little
removed from the settlement, and thither
we repaired. Go in first," said Eaton to
George, you are our Captain," and with
a bold face George entered, followed by
eight daring-looking youngsters of whom I
was the youngest, and smallest. The
words "You are our Captain" were still
passing through my mind, when I ,was


roused by a remark from Mr. Morse, and
began to look around. Nearly half the
school-house was occupied by young men
who were members of the Bible class, and
the other by children who composed the
S. school. Here I saw some persons be-
longing to the upper village, who had been
persuaded by Mr. Morse to join him in this
Christian enterprise; they were intently
occupied with their little classes, and I was
struck with the air of quiet peace which
pervaded the house. "It is not the place,"
thought I, for sport," when my ear was
caught by a reply to a question proposed by
Mr. Morse. The speaker was a fine looking
young man; and there was an appear-
ance of independent thought and a dignity
of manner, which might have been taken for
abundant self-esteem, had not the subdued
tone of his voice, and the mild expression
of his clear eye, forbidden such a thought.
I heard not the question; the answer
was this-" Yes, sir, I did find the ser-
vice of sin a hard service, and it became
evident to me that its wages would be


death, for I had already began to receive
some of this dreadful pay, to feel the gnaw-
ings of the worm that never dies-but now
having enlisted in the service of Him who
is called in our lesson The Captain of our
salvation-' "' Have you found an easier
service?" To this question the young man
did not give an immediate answer; he sat
with his head leaning upon his hand, while
the eyes of the whole class were directed
towards him, and not those of the class
only, for there was something in his man-
ner, and in the quiet tone of his voice, that
arrested the attention of our careless com-
pany, and we all leaned forward to hear
his answer. At last with the same calm
decision of manner he replied-" I was far
gone in sin, and it my well be asked if the
Leopard can change his spots. The self-
denying way trod by the Captain of my
salvation, did not at first appear an easy
way; every step was a cross to the natural
heart, and sometimes I feared that I should
faint by the way, but God gave me man-
na in the wilderness. When almost ready


to be discouraged, on account of the nar-
rowness of the way, I have been filled
with love and joy, and a peace that passeth
understanding; then refreshed I have gone
on my way rejoicing; and every step for-
ward has increased my strength, while my
path grows brighter and brighter." "And,"
replied Mr. Morse warmly, "it will end in
perfect day, for as the wages of sin is
death, so the gift of God is eternal life,
through Jesus Christ our Lord."
Then Mr. Morse spoke earnestly to those
young men of the noble warfare to which
the Christian is called, and exhorted them
to prove themselves faithful soldiers of the
cross of Christ, assuring them that thus the
world and sin would find them invincible.
"Well," thought I, "if there is such a thing
as being strong, I should like to become
so," and I began to look very mean in my
own eyes. So weak in obeying the dictates
of mf own conscience; so utterly unable
to carry my resolutions into effect; so con-
tinually led captive by the wrong, "0!"
thought I, that young man talked of enlist-


ing under a Captain who offers good
service, and good pay; and this too after
he was far gone in sin; now if it were not
for these chaps I would ask how he enlisted,
and if he thought there was any chance of
my becoming a soldier under this Captain
who makes hi's soldiers so strong."
I looked at George, and he smiled con-
temptuously, and I, weak, foolish boy, re-
turned the smile. Mr. Morse spoke to us
after the school was closed, and affection-
ately invited us to join his class. My heart
yearned to do so, but when he addressed
me, I gave the same cold haughty answer
given by George. We left the house, and
strolled towards the river in quest of amuse-
ment. "There go the Invincibles!" shouted
Eaton, and looking up we saw the young
men of the Bible class and some others along
with them; they were going towards the
village, talking earnestly, but quietly as they
went. "Invincibles!" said George, that is
capital, Eaton, but where are their banners'?
"O, their long faces, and their sanctimonious
airs," said Eaton, "are their banners. These


soldiers will be known among us, see if they
are not." "Well," replied George, "soldiers
can do but little without an opposing force
armed for fight, and now I will tell you
plainly I feel a real hatred for these fellows,
and since you call me your captain, I shall
lead you on to war." "Good;" shouted the
company, "we will followyou, so go ahead."
Just at that moment we saw the young
man who had so interested me in the Bible
class, coming towards us; he had left his
companions, and notwithstanding our re-
pulsive manners, came close to the river.
There was a lad among us by the name of
Green. He never seemed quite at ease
when out with us upon the Sabbath, but
he was a bright, witty fellow, and we
flattered and caressed him, and so led him
captive. Now, as the pious young man
approached, Green whispered to me, Here
comes David to fight with our Goliath. See
how quick he will kill him with a pebble
and a sling." I saw you standing here,"
said the young man, "and made bold to
join your company. Are you in quest of


amusement?" We are waiting for the
boat which has just left the other shore,"
said George. "Are you in the habit of
going out for boat rides on the Sabbath ?"
he asked. Yes;" was the reply, "we
either do this, or go out gunning." There
was defiant scorn in George's manner, as
he gave these answers, and he was evi-
dently anxious for some better chance to
display his talent for putting folks down.
He waited impatiently for more ques-
tions, but no more were asked. With a
look of the most affectionate interest the
young man approached him, and laid a
hand upon his arm; "My dear young
friend," said he, "I did not come here to
meddle impertinently with your business,
but I am engaged in the service of Him
who commands me to work while the day
lasts-and the day of our earthly probation
is very short, with us it may even now be
drawing to a close. God our heavenly
Father who has said, now is the accepted
time, and now the day of salvation, has
not promised us a single moment beyond.


the present." "Then," he continued, look-
ing round affectionately upon us all, "why
delay? Our Father only says to us, 'Son,
give me thy heart,' and this is not an un-
reasonable demand from Him who has de-
livered his only Son to death, that through
him we might be saved." We were all
silent, even George hung his head, and
said not a word. Then he entreated us
to remember the Sabbath day to keep it
holy; Many of you," said he, are away
from the watchful eye of your parents, but
I beseech you remember that the eye of
God is upon you, and he will not hold him
guiltless who breaks his commandments."
When he spake of absent parents, Charley
Green turned away his head, but I saw
that a tear had gathered in his eye, a very
honest tear, which he needed not to hide;
but of which he notwithstanding seemed
much ashamed. Then the pious young
man shook hands with us, told us his
name was Albert Wood; that he had once
been a great sinner, and it was because he
knew the paths of sin as hard and danger-


ous, that he had intruded so far; hoped
that we should stop and think before we
farther pursued these dangerous paths, and
then bade us good-bye. Not a word was
spoken for some time after he left us.
George seemed ashamed that he had so
poorly sustained his character; Eaton look-
ed gloomy, and Green thoughtful; for my-
self, 'I was almost persuaded to be a
"Christian." I followed Albert Wood with
my eyes until he was fairly out of sight,
than I turned away and sighed. What
nonsense is this," said George, rousing
himself at last, "let us do something to
help us digest this fine sermon;" saying
this, he jumped into the boat, which had
just reached the shore; all followed save
Charley Green, who tried to make us
believe that he was not well; but George
laughed heartily, and bade him join the
invincibles. Charles blushed, and seemed
irresolute-O, there are such moments in
the history of every human mind, when
the will trembles between the balances of
right and wrong; when a single act seals



our fate for time-perhaps for eternity.
At such moments there may be silence in
heaven, as breathless hosts of celestial
beings bend over us, to hear our final
resolve. Strange as it may appear, though
I allowed myself to be led captive by
Satan at his will, I really hoped that
young Green, would persist in refusing to
enter the boat-" Come, Charley," ,said
Eaton, "we shall be dull without you," For
one moment more the scale whose turning
was so important to one spirit there,
swayed uncertainly, then with a mighty
effort Charles spoke, his cheek was pale,
but his voice was firm; "My mother," said
he, is a Christian, she has prayed for me
ever since I was born-good-bye-I will
not break the Sabbath day."
We pay an infinite price for unholy
pleasures, a price greatly beyond even
their present worth, for who ever tasted
this cup and did not find bitterness mingled
with every draught? It had always been
thus with me. In every path of sin which
I had trod, and in every cup of forbidden


pleasure pressed to my lips, I had found
bitterness and sorrow. It was eminently
so on this Sabbath day. The words of
that pious young man had been goads to
my guilty conscience. I felt myself a poor
degraded creature without moral strength;
and this feeling of self-distrust was height-
ened by the noble decision of Charles
Green. I knew that the same path of
right action was open to me, but I shrank
from paying the price of my soul's freedom,
because I thought that the price demanded
would be a sacrifice of what I called
friendship. I have since learned to reckon
that friendship, as little worth, which is
enmity to truth, and that person as a poor
friend who is an enemy to God. Our im-
mortal spirits were made for something
better, and for a time they struggle fiercely
with the chains of evil. I felt this struggle
on that Sabbath day. It was the most
wretched of all my previous days of sin,
nor was it a happy day to my companions.
We tried hard to devise some plan for
amusement, but all our plans when carried



into execution seemed insipid and tire-
some, till at last quite weary with our
phantom chase, we gave it up, and re-
turned home.



The savor of life. Silent reproof. Celebrations. Emula-
tion, wrath, and strife.

IT is not always the word fitly spoken, nor
even the righteous deed, that gives to the
Christian his powerful saving influence. It
is often merely the outbeaming of that
divine Spirit whose fruits are love, joy,
peace, long-suffering, gentleness, meekness,
goodness, faith, and temperance. The
Christian's time for action is not always
present; sometimes he is commanded, as
was Moses, to stand still while God inter-
poses, and performs the work too mighty
for human strength; but the Christian's
time to endure is always present. There
is but a step of our way open to us," Mr.
Morse would say to his pious young friends,
"but we need not be discouraged; let us
fearlessly take that one step, and then wait
with patient endurance until the next is re-


vealed." It is true that these young men
as did Lot, felt their souls vexed daily by
the ungodly conversation of the wicked,
and sometimes a stern rebuke was upon
their tongues, though it seldom passed their
lips; for they wisely remembered that if
they would please Him who had called
them to be soldiers of his cross, they must
not go to war without the word of com-
mand, lest they might be compelled to go
at their own charge. The course therefore
pursued by them was generally this. The
sins which came directly under their own
observation, they reproved by a gentle
word, or by a look full of earnest meaning.
" I can't work with these fellows," said a
profane young man to his employers. "I
can't bear them to look at me when I
swear." Here let me say to my young
readers, that the spirit of Christ dwelling in
us will always beam forth in keen, heart-
searching reproof to sin, and that too when
no word has passed our lips.
The inhabitants of what was called the
upper village, had not, for many years,


made any show of a celebration on the
Fourth of July. Persons residing there,
and disposed to join in celebrating this day
of national rejoicing had repaired to the
city, only twelve or fifteen miles distant;
but at the time of which we write a differ-
ent arrangement had been made. Great
preparations were in progress by the factory
villagers for their "Independent Day," and
lest the young people of their own sober
settlement should be enticed thither, the
upper villagers had concluded to make their
own rejoicings. Great now was the excite-
ment. The spirit of rivalry was rife in
both communities, for the feeling of mutual
animosity early kindled there, had increas-
ed daily, fanned by riotous aggressions on
one side, and studied contempt on the
other; but now the upper villagers forgot
some of their scornful dignity in an earnest
desire to know what their noisy neighbors
intended to do; they even stooped to recon-
noitre their grounds by moonlight, for the
purpose of gaining information on this
point. There had been but very little sys-



ten in the arrangements there, nearly every
man and boy had a thought in his own
head touching this point. Some meant to
drink as much rum as they could possibly
swallow, others had determined on firing
as much gunpowder as they had money to
buy,-all the boys had settled upon firing
crackers, and many of the wags meant to
make a speech and burlesque their aristo-
cratic neighbors; but though there was but
little concert in these plans for rejoicing,
each and all understood of course that they
were to make what noise they could, and
above all they were to annoy their neigh-
bors in every way possible.
The preparations at the upper village
were characteristic of the people, and of
course widely different from the headlong
proceedings just spoken of. A committee
of arrangements had early been chosen, and
every thing ruled and squared for the occa-
sion. An orator from the city was engaged,
likewise a military company, which, joined
to their own militia, was expected to make
the affair sufficiently martial. Some guns


were to be fired on the green, in front of the
church, while the aged bell was to ring as
merry a peal as it could. Mr. Atwood had
invited the orator, the military, and the vil-
lagers, to a dinner; and at the old church
in the evening the choir were to perform
some pieces learned for the occasion. As
the time grew nearer however, the spirit of
rivalry grew turbulent, and there were
reckless young men on both sides who
would gladly have settled the question of
their own independence by what they called
a good fight." Strange as it may appear,
my friend George, though nephew to Mr.
Atwood, the wealthiest and most powerful
man of our place, was still wholly upon
the opposite side. The reckless daring
spirit manifested by most of the young men
of the new settlement was more to his taste
than were the quiet pursuits and practices
among us. George had been sent from the
city by his anxious mother, because his
self-will was stronger than her power to
control. She hoped that her brother, who
was a man of energy and decision, would
be to her rebellious boy what he needed,



namely, an unflinching master, as well as a
judicious counselor and friend; but George
was farther gone in sin than his mother
imagined; he soon found that his uncle
was capable of being deceived. He was
not always fully successful here, but when
detected, he could always appear penitent,
and promise better conduct in future. So
that Mr. Atwood, blinded in part by his
partiality for his nephew, came at last to
think and speak of George, as "a noble
boy, a little wild to be sure, but always
frank, and ready to acknowledge a fault."
Poor man, how little did he dream that this
"noble boy" was the victim of a moral
disease, a disease which, allowed to remain,
soon spreads its dark leprosy over the soul,
and then,
"No bleeding bird, nor bleeding beast,
Nor hyssop branch, nor sprinkling priest,
Nor running brook, nor flood, nor sea,
Can wash the dismal stain away."

Nothing but the fountain opened for sin and
uncleanness can avail our misery and pol-



The soldier at his post. The standard. Sympathy with
Christ. The night watch. Painful thoughts. Dispirited
mother. New resolution. Sabbath call. Resolution
broken. Ashamed of the cross. The wicked hand in
hand. One spirit free. Perfect weakness.

THE Christian soldier always waiting the
word of command, always at his post with
his armor on, will never be taken by sur-
prise. We have seen the few really right-
eous persons of these two communities
doing patiently what they could, keeping
their night watch upon a stormy sea, and
waiting the dawn of day. Under such cir-
cumstances of darkness and uncertainty,
the fearful heart asks despondingly, By
whom shall Jacob arise, for he is small;"
"Faith, mighty faith the promise sees,
And looks to this alone."
The ungodly young persons who ridi-
culed this small band of Christians, and




sneeringly called them the Invincibles,"
were not aware of the truth contained in
that one name given in scorn. Every true
Christian is invincible, for against sin and
Satan, though coming as a flood, the Christ-
ian is able to lift up a standard from which
they shrink with coward fear. It was the
Sabbath evening, when Mr. Morse met the
members of his class and the Sabbath school
teachers in a small upper chamber. They
had passed a week of peculiar trial, for the
unhallowed excitement then prevailing had
subjected them to more than usual persecu-
tion. But this was not the burden upon
their spirits. They counted persecution as
a small matter. They were in sympathy
with Him who wept over the guilt and
ruin of a fallen world. The darkness
seemed to thicken around them, and now
as they sat in mournful silence, on that
Sabbath evening, each eye rested upon their
beloved teacher and friend, and each heart
seemed to say, Watchman, tell us of the
night," while the faith of that good man
gave the ready response, "The morning,


the morning cometh." He told them to
stand their ground, to oppose the shield of
faith to all the fiery darts of the enemy, to
boldly keep the vantage ground of truth,
and having done all to stand. Our weap-
ons are not carnal," said Mr. Morse, "but
God has declared them mighty, and the
world must one day acknowledge this
truth. They deridingly call us the 'Invin-
cibles;' let us be true to this name. The
Christian must plant his standard wherever
he goes, and truth and righteousness in-
wrought upon his banners will be the light
terrible to the lovers of darkness." Greatly
cheered by these comforting words, they
one and all expressed a determination to
" war a good warfare," to fight the good
fight of faith, and secure for others, as for
themselves, "' the crown of life;" then join-
ing the fervent prayer offered by their pious
teacher, they left the place, feeling more
than ever assured that victory must turn
upon Zion's side.
It was on this very evening that I sat by
the window in my mother's small parlor,



and tried to read from the word of God. I
wanted a balm for my wounded conscience.
There was something rankling there, which
for several nights had driven sleep from my
eyes. I saw that my poor mother was
growing pale and sad. She said but little,
but I knew that she grieved because of my
reckless, disobedient conduct; and now as
I sat at the open window, and once in a
while glanced at her, as she passed and re-
passed the door in preparing our evening
meal, I thought painfully of the change
which had come over her in so short a
time. Then my conscience talked loudly of
the cause, and forewarned me of the agony
yet in store for me if I persisted in a course
of sin. It was the "still small voice,"
which with unchanging fidelity speaks to
the sinner's heart, and asks, Why will
ye die ?" This solemn question had been
urged upon me ever since that day when
Albert Wood reasoned with us on righteous-
ness, and a judgment to come; and so pow-
erfully had its earnest warnings wrought
upon my heart, that I had determined not


to leave my mother's house after service,
as I had usually done, but sit down, and
carefully reflect on the things which make
for our everlasting peace. My mother
seemed gratified at my rational conduct,
and with something of her former cheerful-
ness spoke to me occasionally, as she moved
about. At last the supper was ready, and
coming into the parlor she leaned for a mo-
ment upon my shoulder, and looked over
as I read aloud from the eternal word; but
when I closed the book, I saw that a tear
was upon her pale cheek, and all my re-
morseful feelings returned with new power.
I threw my arms around her neck, and
was about to confess all my sin and folly,
and promise that I would henceforth be a
kind and dutiful son, when I saw George
walking rapidly along the lane, towards
the house. He was finely dressed, and
never looked handsomer than on this night;
even mother, who for good reason had long
dreaded his power over me, and desired
that our connection might be broken off,
now looked at him with admiration. It is



needless to say, that I at once became
ashamed of my feelings, which now seemed
to me as foolish weakness, and with an air
of self-consequence, I stepped to the door,
and gave him a hearty greeting.
I want you to go with me," said George,
bowing slightly to mother, but addressing
himself to me; I want you to go with me
just over the causeway."
It is the Sabbath," interposed my moth-
er. Edgar is seldom at home of a Sab-
bath. I think my son that you had better
not go;" then smiling cheerfully she said,
" Stop to tea, and spend the evening here,
George. We will do our best to entertain
," Thank you," said George, with habit-
ual politeness; "but I have an engage-
ment. I will not detain Edgar, however,
but a few minutes."
Mother well knew that my few minutes
often attained the length of a few hours,
and she still urged me not to go.
"I should do as I pleased," whispered


George to me; you are too large a boy to
be kept in leading strings."
Then came the feeling of false shame,
which had so often betrayed me into sin,
and going for my best hat, I said, "I will
be at home very soon, mother," but as I
passed out, she said mournfully, I must as
usual take my Sabbath evening supper
alone." My heart was touched, and gladly
would I have gone back, but George was
looking at me, and I forgot the All-Seeing
Eye. Where are you going ?" I asked as
soon as we had reached the lane, and
George with great excitement of manner
began to tell me of a company that was
fitting out in the most grotesque manner
possible, with which they intended to march
through the villages, and do many other
things, which were to be kept a profound se-
cret. "Indeed," said George, "the whole mat-
ter is to be kept a secret. I go for the Factory
chaps you know, and I am chosen Captain
of this odd concern. They say that I am just
the fellow because I know all about the ar-
rangements here, and know just how to dis-


turb them. Among other places we mean
to go into the orchard where uncle is to
give his dinner, and the game we will play
on their city soldiers will be cute enough,
I tell you." "But your uncle," said I,
" why George, do you dare to do a thing
so bold as to lead this ridiculous company
to his dinner table?" I Dare! said
George, I would like you to show me a
thing that I am afraid to do; but uncle will
know nothing of this matter, for I shall
wear a mask. Indeed, we shall all wear
masks, or otherwise disguise ourselves."
The still small voice was not yet hushed,
and pained with its earnest whispers, I said
timidly, "I would let this matter alone un-
til a week day. I want nothing to do
with it to-day." "Why, what is the mat-
ter now ? asked George, with a laugh of
derision. "Your face is solemn enough to
serve as a banner for the Invincibles. Come,
let us hear you preach like that fool of a
Wood." We may prove ourselves the
greatest fools," I replied. '"0 well," said
he, do as you please. I told them that
you had spunk enough to carry out any


piece of fun, but if you choose lo go home,
and read the Bible to your mother, why go,
and I can tell them that you are going to
join that mealy-faced army of 'bold sol-
diers' who meet and go through a drill
every Sunday, that they may know how
to be insulted, and never open their mouths
all the week." These mocking words from
George, were no help to my troubled heart.
I had just been reading of One, who, led
like a lamb to the slaughter, still opened
not his mouth, and I had read too that this
silent sufferer was now exalted far above
all principalities and powers, a King and
a Priest at the right hand of God. I knew
that this wonderful mystery of Christian
endurance would be unfolded to the world
as the mighty weapon which must subdue
all to itself. I knew it, for the Spirit which
knocked at my heart, and waited there
until its locks were wet with the night dews,
taught me this. I could see nothing mean or
degrading in the work of a Christian soldier,
but still I was ashamed of the Cross of
Christ. When George alluded to my read-


ing the Bible to my mother, I felt the blood
mount to my temples, and 1 was vexed that
he had seen me with the holy book in my
hand. So I pushed forward with apparent
eagerness and we were soon at the place of
rendezvous. It was a wood about half a
mile from the Lower Village. Here was a
large number of the young men whom I
had often met before, and with them a
number of girls who with needle and
thread were busy upon various articles of
their singular uniform. I was greeted with
a loud shout of welcome, and soon hard at
work among the rest. The main road ran
close along the borders of this wood, and
occasionally a passing carriage, or a quiet
foot passenger interrupted our work. At
such times, we crouched among the trees,
and kept silence. This was because we
wished to keep our plan a secret. At last,
we saw some one approaching at a dis-
tance, and one of our company whispered,
" It is Charles Green, he is trying to find
us." Great joy was now manifested by all
the company, for Charles, on account of his


independence, and ready wit, was a favor-
ite with all. We will keep still," said
Eaton, who had thus far appeared nervous,
and ill at ease. "We will keep still until
he is close here, and then spring out."-
Accordingly as Charles came near, George
called out Halloa, this way Green."
Charles stopped, but declined entering the
wood, merely asking what we were about
there? "Come and see," we all shouted
as we rushed into the road to meet him, but
Charles shook his head, and seemed in-
clined to pass on. "What is that under
your arm ?" asked George. For a moment
Charles was silent, he seemed to struggle
with the same false shame by which I was
completely bound, but from which he was in
a fair way to be free. The struggle was but
momentary, and then he calmly answered,
"It is my Bible, George." A loud scornful
laugh burst from George, which was echoed
by all save myself; I was too sick at heart
for a laugh. "He is going to the Bible
class, going to join the Invincibles; going
to enlist with the bold soldiers," was re-



peated by one and another, while laughter
grew louder, and reminded me of the crack-
ling of thorns under a pot.
"1Come, come," said George, "you are
too much of a man to be fooled in this
way, come with us Charley."
No," said Charles, setting his foot
firmly upon the ground; "if I never be-
come a Christian, I am determined still
never again to be a Sabbath-.breaker."
His look and his manner was too de-
cided for any more persuasion. "Surely,"
thought I, "Charley has the spirit of an
'invincible."' 0, how I desired a like spirit
for myself. Charles walked resolutely
away, while George in a canting tone cried
after him, "hope you will have a good
time brother," and Eaton with a peculiar
twang, responded Amen,"-then came
another shout of merriment which echoed
from the distant hills, and seemed to me
like the mocking answer of spirits lost. I
had stood all this time in perfect silence,
leaning against a tree, but now George, as
he turned towards me, whispered, "I would


rather see you dead, than such a fool as
Green has become." So I, poor slave, fol-
lowed them back to the wood, even as the
ox goeth to the slaughter. It was nearly
dark when we started for home, but the
moon was rising, and now shone gloriously
upon the river, as it rolled in solemn still-
ness towards the sea. "Let us have a
boat ride by moonlight," said Eaton, and
soon we were out upon those bright waters,
not only blotting out, but as it seemed to
me profaning their beautiful reflection of
the worlds above. It was late at night
when I returned home, but as I entered the
village, now hushed in sleep, I saw one
light beaming faintly from a lone window.
I knew that my mother was there watch-
ing and waiting for her wicked son. George
was very cold in his manner towards me,
and although I had sacrificed truth, honor,
peace, almost every thing good to please
him, seemed vexed that I had appeared to
feel this sacrifice and had refused to be
merry at his bidding. Surely the service



of sin is a hard service, and the servants of
Satan hard masters.
Your supper is upon the table, Edgar,"
said my mother, in a sad tone as I entered
the room. She was seated at the table
where I had left the open Bible, and sinful
as I was, I felt glad that she had been
trying to draw water from that blessed
well, for I saw even then, that my poor
mother needed strength to endure, which
she could not command from herself. I
sat down to the table, but not to eat; I
felt something swelling up from my heart
that refused food, and sent me quickly
from the table. I seated myself for a mo-
ment by the fire, which mother had kindled
for me, because the evening was chill, and
soon after rose to retire. Could I leave my
poor mother without a word of explana-
tion; I struggled a moment with my pride,
and then said, "I intended to have been at
home before, mother." "I believe you,"
said she, but tell me, have you no longer
power to fulfill right intentions? "
No," said I, sinking upon my chair


again, overwhelmed with a crushing sense
of my own weakness. Mother did not
reply as she had usually done. She did
not remind me of the dignity of my moral
nature, and command me to act worthy of
myself and her. She only laid her hand
despondingly upon the open Bible, and
when I said "Good-night, dear mother,"
she raised her eyes, wet with tears, and
replied-" Good-night, my poor child. May
God pity us both."



Independence Day. The Old Bell. The Factory Bells. The
Still Small Voice. Enticed by Sinners. Disobedient
Son. Dying Father. Dangerous Trifling. Company in
the Woods. Disturbances. The galling Yoke.

LONG before the morning sun shone upon
the distant hills, the heavy booming of the
city guns was answered by as loud reports
as could be made upon our village green.
The bell rope was pulled vigorously, and
with various quirks, in order to give the old
bell a merry sound, but for many years that
old bell had never spoken save in tones of
solemn meaning. 'Come, come,' said the
old bell on the holy day, 'come, poor traveler
to the tomb. Come, anxious worldling,
come, careless sinner, come to the house of
prayer.' And when its plaintive voice was
heard upon the busy week day, men and
women paused, and listened, and the
happy voices of careless children were


hushed, for then the old bell told us that death
had come, and in its mournful chimes it seem-
ed to say, 'prepare, prepare, prepare to meet
thy God.' It was in vain that the hoary
sexton was put aside, and the bell rope
pulled spasmodically, by our crazy-headed
boys. The old people said the sound was
like a funeral knell, and they shook their
heads, and prophesied that death soon
would follow. But nothing could exceed
the saucy merriment of the Factory bells;
there seemed to be mocking and laughter in
every peal which, mingled with shouts in
every variety of voice from childhood to
manhood, and the constant explosion of
gunpowder, made what our own villagers
called a Bedlam broken loose.' I had
passed a most miserable night. A certain
looking for of judgment, and fiery indigna-
tion, had driven sleep from my eyes, and
more than once during that dreadful night,
I had resolved to spend my 'Fourth of
July,' at home, and alone. During break-
fast, mother told me that she had received
an especial, and very polite invitation from



Mr. and Mrs. Atwood, to be present at their
dinner, and she desired me by all means to be
ready to escort her thither. I made some
slight reply, and soon repaired to my room
again. How little did 1 then understand
that this time so full of suffering, was my
especial day of grace. When the Spirit,
long-suffering and kind, condescends to
wait and entreat, when its earnest whisper
troubles the soul so that it finds no rest day
nor night, bids the sinner beware, it is his
especial day of grace, and that day with its
easy passage to the cross of Christ, may
never return.
"What ails me?" said I, as I paced
the floor of my little room, and throwing
up my window tried to shake off the weight
that oppressed me. You are a sinner,"
whispered the still small voice, "a dark
account is scored against you. You have
long been a disobedient, rebellious son.-
You have broken the Sabbath day. To
please your wicked associates you have
profaned the name which is above every
other, and to hide your guilt from human


eye, you have made yourself a liar."-
" Have not others done the same ?" I trem-
blingly inquired. "Does that alter your
own fearful position was the question in
reply. "When the hour of death comes,
as come it will, you must go to judgment
alone; can you there urge as extenuation of
your own guilt that others are guilty? and
if so, what will it avail you "Alas,"
said I, "what shall I do?" "Turn at
once," was the ready answer. "Make no
tarrying. The way of truth and happiness
is open to you, and if you cannot find the
way, go and seek direction from those pious
young men." Such was the controversy be-
tween myself, and the Holy Spirit, when it
was interrupted by a tap at my door, and
George, with a flushed cheek and hurried
manner entered my room. It was no new
thing for him to preface a sentence with an
oath, and I was therefore not at all surprised
at his using this manner of speech, as he
roughly addressed me, and asked why I had
not been on hand that morning. I despise,"
said he, "your way of shirking off; you act


like a fool lately, and do and say every
thing as if you were on the brink of the
grave. "Worse than that," thought I, to
myself, the brink of the grave is nothing
compared to the brink of destruction," but I
said nothing, and George continued. "I have
been waiting for you more than two hours,
and here you are cooped up in your room
on this morning of the Fourth, and I'll be
hanged," said he, (glancing at the table
where lay the Bible,) if you have not been
reading the Scriptures. Now," and his
cheek reddened with a deeper flush, "if
you wish to break friendship with me, say
so, that I may know what to depend upon."
" Perhaps it would be as well," said I,
somewhat piqued at his authoritative man-
ner. Very well," he replied, "' it is said
that' short accounts make long friends,' but
as our friendship is to end, perhaps our ac-
counts had best do the same, we will settle
if you please I was startled at this. We
had spent many of our Sabbath evenings
at the Lower Village, in playing games of
chance; George had taught me these games,


and had encouraged me in gambling, by
offering whenever I was the loser, (which I
frequently was) to settle all accounts. I
had no money, and I knew that it was by
the strictest economy, and great self-denial,
that my mother managed to pay my tuition
at the Academy, and to keep her idle un-
grateful boy respectably clothed. George
saw my perplexity and coolly added, the
amount is not much to be sure-a little ris-
ing fifty dollars perhaps, nothing that I
should ever think of mentioning, to a friend,
but you of course, would not break friend-
ship without settling accounts." 1"I have
no desire to break friendship," said I,
yielding to a momentary alarm. I thought
so," said George, grasping my hand, with
apparent warmth. "You are a little
gloomy, Edgar, but drive it off, my good
fellow. I have been so myself, and once
came near being made as big a fool as the
Invincibles." Here George burst into a
loud laugh, while I timidly remarked, that
these pious people appeared happy. O,"
said he, "but sensible people are never


happy in that way. There is your mother,
Edgar, she would not approve of your
going to their week evening meetings, and
I know that uncle Atwood, though he re-
spects Mr. Morse, still considers him over-
religious. Most sensible people at the vil-
lage, and members of the church too, think
that going to meeting of a Sunday, and
never cheating, except in the way of trade,
is religion enough; all this fuss about saving
souls, they think nothing of, depend upon
I could not deny this, and yet con-
cerning,this fuss, as George called it, I
thought that the New Testament furnished
us a precedent. Truly, thought I, we have
never seen among us as yet the burning,
self-denying zeal manifested by Christ and
his apostles. I was not convinced that the
love of immortal souls was an unnecessary
excess of religion, for partially enlightened
by the Spirit of Truth, I felt in some meas-
ure the worth of souls, but I was not yet
ready to make the wise choice of eternal
life. George knew that I was taken in his


snare, and I felt myself more than ever in
the power of him, to whom I had yielded
myself a servant to obey. You will be at
home in time to go with me to the church,
and to Mr. Atwood's," said mother, as I
was about leaving the house. I was about
to answer as usual, that I would, when the
same voice which for days had spoken to
my heart, spake yet again. "' Beware,"
said that voice, 1" add not another falsehood
to that dark account." I paused like a
guilty creature, and in a voice scarcely au-
dible replied, I will, if I can." Mother
sighed, and George glanced at me con-
temptuously. "Are you not nearly fif-
teen ? he asked, as we gained the road.
"Yes," I replied, I shall be fifteen in ten
days." Long before I was fifteen," he
continued, "I let my mother know I should
act my own pleasure about going, and com-
ing, and indeed about every thing else. 1
shall never forget the day when tlat point
was settled. Father was sick for a long
time, and sometimes suffered so much that it
was horrible to be in the house. I hated to


stay at home, and after I had got into the
way of being off with these fellows in the
city that can go where they please, I hated
to go to school, and for a week at a time I
would manage so as not to go. At last my
father found it out, and I was threatened
with the severest punishment if I kept on
in this way, but I laughed in my sleeves all
the while, for at the same time that father
was talking so big, he coughed, and trem-
bled, and the sweat stood in great drops on
his forehead; I knew very well that he
couldn't handle a mouse. I rather think
he saw that I wasn't afraid, for after that,
he talked very differently. Sometimes he
cried when he saw that my poor mother
would soon be left a widow, and then he
would entreat me to be a good boy. O,"
said I, as George progressed in his story,
"I don't see how you could resist that. I
can imagine how a boy can be hardened by
constant threats, but George, when your
poor suffering father entreated you to be a
good boy, it is not possible that you could
go on and disobey." 0, but it was possi-


ble," he replied; to be sure, I loved my
father, but I loved pleasure better. I some-
times felt bad when he talked of dying, but
it was foolish in him to think I was going
to set up for a saint because he was going to
die; and besides, when a boy gets into his
teens, he begins to think for himself, and
don't want a yoke put upon his neck, just
like that poor old gander, who is trying to
push his way, yoke and all, through the
fence. I felt sorry to have my father die.
I always hated to see death, or think of it,
and never felt worse in my life than I did
that night when he died. I had been off
all day, and when I came home, one of the
servants said that father had been dread-
fully distressed, but was now a little easier.
My uncle Thomas, who is one of those re-
ligious young men, had come in the morn-
ing, and when he found that I was at home,
he came down stairs in a solemn kind of a
way, took hold of my hand, and told me
my father was dying. I wanted to keep
down stairs, but he led me along, till we


came to father's room. I should not have
thought it possible for him to have changed
so much in one day. I felt frightened, but
he opened his eyes and when he saw me
reached out his hand. Uncle Thomas led
me to the bed, and then father talked very
strangely. Said that he had neglected his
duty to God, and to his family, and hardly
dared hope for pardon; then he bade me re-
member that I was born to die, that I
should one day be as he then was. He
talked with great difficulty, and after wait-
ing awhile, he said, My poor child, kneel
beside my bed, and for once in my life, let
me commend you to God."
I had never heard any one talk so before,
and I didn't know what to do till Uncle
Thomas knelt down, and motioned me to
do the same. I don't remember much
about my Father's prayer. I was dread-
fully afraid that he would die before 1 could
leave the room,-I got away as soon as I
could, but felt shockingly all night. Some-
thing kept talking with me about being a
great sinner, and yet being born to die.


The next morning Uncle Thomas came to
my room, and told me that father was dead.
It makes me mad now when I think how
he worked me over, and made me promise
to be a better boy. If Uncle Tom had staid
with us I should have been as pious as
Albert Wood, and he might have staid, for
he was preparing for college; but mother
thought after awhile, that he was a little
too religious. I think between you and I,
that mother was a little afraid of his religion,
for I have noticed that these real "neck or
nothing" Christians, are terrible to those
who have only a so-so piety. They seem
sheepish enough to be sure, but folks are
afraid of them, that is a fact. Well, after
Uncle Thomas went away, I forgot all my
promises, and began to run after these fel-
lows again, and after a time, I went into
the matter of pleasuring strong I tell you.
I got so that I could swear at mother, and
frighten her into giving me money when I
pleased. She couldn't manage me any
way, and after awhile sent for Uncle Thom-
as again, but I had grown too strong for


him now; I used to make fun of his ser-
mons and prayers right to his face, and so
they were obliged to send me here, but they
won't gain much after all. My mother's
got money enough, and what is money
good for, if we can't spend it, and what is
the use of living if we can't enjoy life ?"
" But," said I, life will close by and by,
what are we to do then ?" O, as for that
matter," replied George, "I don't think
much about it now. Some are of opinion,
that when we die, that is the end of us.
Others think that this going to judgment is
all a humbug; at any rate, there is time
enough. I don't believe that my father
ever thought of praying till that night be-
fore he died, and I suppose he is just as
well off now, as if he had been a Christian
all his life-time." I had not time to tell
George how fearful this trifling with eter-
nal things seemed to me, for we were now
at the woods. Part of the company had
already assembled. I saw George whisper-
ing with Eaton who immediately produced
a bottle and glasses. You must take


something," said he, approaching me with
a brimming glass; drink this, Edgar, it
won't hurt you." I was about to decline,
when George interposed. "You must drink
it," said he; "you are not well, and this
will put new life into you. It was brought
on purpose for you; the rest of us can do
without medicine." I took the glass and
drank it off, and then began to assist
George in arranging the line of march.
The company was a most hideous specta-
cle, and accorded well with the terrible
dreams which had haunted me for many
nights, where I had seen the marshaled
troops of him who goeth about seeking
whom he may devour, and heard the
" groans that ever groan, and sighs that
ever sigh, and I saw the tears that ever
weep and fall, but not in mercy's sight."
But our time for hopeless tears had not
yet arrived; and as one after another of our
company appeared, clad in various and
most ludicrous uniform, shouts of laughter
rent the air, and was echoed from the far-
thest river shore. Armed with kettle-



drums and every variety of tinware, we
commenced our march. My misgivings
were now at an end, for the glass of strong
drink had acted as a charm upon my
troubled conscience. I heard its still small
whispers no longer, and went on my
way rejoicing in what seemed so great a
deliverance. We reached the Upper Vil-
lage just as the militia had commenced
their march to meet the city company, who
had left their carriages, and were now ad-
vancing in the distance. It was in vain
that we were vociferously ordered to retire.
We persisted in keeping close to their escort,
and as there was no time to lose, they were
obliged to yield. Our handsomely-equipped
visitors were amazed at this uncouth greet-
ing, but soon understood it all, and were
somewhat amused. Not so the villagers,
to whom this fete was the climax of im-
pertinent tricks which they had long re-
garded as boorish insults. We ranged
ourselves, with a comical regard to order,
on either hand, while the military and the
villagers entered the church. My mother


was with Mr. and Mrs. Atwood. I saw
that she glanced uneasily upon our rowdy-
ish company, and knowing the fears that
disturbed her, I felt glad of my hideous
disguise. "I must go home now," whis-
pered George to me, as the people disap-
peared; 1"I must dress and show myself
within the church, or uncle will suspect
me. You must take care of them until I
come back." I had not time for a reply,
before he was off.
The charm so potent at first was losing
its power over me, and much against my
will, I was forced to hear that unwelcome
voice again. I would gladly have dis-
missed the riotous fellows left to my care;
but though George had pronounced them
welll enough without medicine," they
judged otherwise, and plied the bottle until
their health, or at least, their sanity, be-
came doubtful. Each imagined himself the
captain, and none paid allegiance to his
fellow. During the oration they kept up the
wildest clamor upon the green, incensing
still more the already indignant people of



the village, and when the oration was con-
cluded, they again joined the military and
insisted on marching in the van to the
orchard, where dinner was prepared. This
was not allowed, and a scene of great con-
fusion followed. Squibs and crackers were
flying in every direction, while the sober
citizens were resolutely at work in unmask-
ing the rioters and driving them from the
ground. I came near this disgraceful ex-
posure, but fortunately escaped, and running
for dear life, found my own room in safety.
With a feeling of thankfulness, I cast off
my disguise, and dressing myself neatly,
sat down to reflect on my narrow escape
from what might have proved a lasting
disgrace; for what excuse could have been
urged in palliation of such conduct in one
who had been favored with advantages
like mine 7 An educated, carefully taught
young man-the only son of a refined, in-
telligent widow, to have been found the
leader of a lawless gang of rioters! It
would have taken long years of well-doing
in a community like ours to have wiped


such a stain from my character. "And for
what," said I to myself, "have I run this
foolish risk;-has it been for my own
pleasure No, verily, it has been nothing
but bitterness, from beginning to end,-
bitterness in the anticipation, and bitterness
in the results. O, this yoke is galling!" I
exclaimed; yet I was not ready to cast it
off and take upon myself the easy yoke of
It was generally known that the mem-
bers of the Sunday school and Bible class
were to meet tn a beautiful grove, a short
distance from the Upper Village, and some-
thing had been said by our company, days
before, about going and finishing up our
rejoicings by annoying them; but in the
midst of confusion and drunkenness, the
proposal had been well nigh forgotten. I
had become tired of my own serious
thoughts, and had ventured out again in
search of my mother. The dinner was
nearly over, the rioters had been driven
from the orchard, but still kept up their
clamor outside the walls. I had seated


myself under a large tree, not wishing to be
seen by any one, when I heard in the dis-
tance the sweet notes of a hymn, and saw
glancing through the green trees, the white-
robed company, who, with waving banners,
were going to the grove. I saw that the
company at the table were also listening
and looking in the same direction. "0,"
said I to myself, "the beautiful company
with banners! And as I thought of their
coming to Mount Zion with songs, and ever-
lasting joy upon their heads, the tears came
into my eyes and forced themselves down
my crimson cheeks. <"I will go," said I,
"and hide myself somewhere near that
grove;" and so I crept cautiously along,
scaled the wall, and was soon at the grove.
A platform, made of rough boards, was occu-
pied by two little speakers, who, in a short
pithy dialogue, were comparing the pleas-
ures of sin, which are but for a season,
to those pleasures which are forevermore.
0, how the fickle light of earthly pleasure
faded into the darkness of the shadow of
death as they proceeded! and I felt that


all they said was true-fearfully true.
Many other little speakers followed, who,
by their great seriousness of manner, and
clear, intelligent pronunciation, showed that
the labor of these pious people, even if con-
fined to exteriors, had not been in vain.
But there was something better than this
plainly discernible in these dear children.
It was the word of life taking deep root,
and giving promise of fruit, an hundred,
and sixty fold. There was already glowing
zeal in their young hearts,-zeal for the
Lord of Hosts. Their names were already
enrolled with those, who, in our ungodly
community, were prepared to "fight the
good fight of faith." Another beautiful
hymn was filling the air with sweetest
music, when, looking round, I saw that I
was not the only spectator there. Most of
the company whom I had left at the table
were now standing, as if rooted with those
trees. Among the rest I saw my mother.
Tears were upon her pale cheek, and the
sight of them wounded me afresh. After
the children's exercises were dver, the young



men of the Bible class mounted the plat-
form, one by one, and spoke with Christian
simplicity, but appropriately, and with
much effect; for although nearly all of our
noisy company was there, every thing was
quiet as the house of God-all seemed
awed by this little army upon whose ban-
ners was written, Holiness to the Lord! "
I could almost see the frost of prejudice
melting from the good hearts of our sober
villagers, and an expression of deep thought
resting upon faces where it had been a
stranger before. Several had spoken, and
there was a few moments of silence, when
another young man came from among the
trees, and slowly mounted the platform.
What was my surprise on beholding
Charles Green! He had not come there
with a studied speech,-there was some-
thing in his earnest eyes and solemn man-
ner showing plainly that he was constrained
to speak. And he told us that it was so;
and in language that found its way to
every heart, he told us why. He spoke
of pious parents,--of a father, who, upon his
death-bed had charged him to remember


his Creator,-of his mother, who still lived
and prayed for her son. Then he told us
how, in despite of the prayers and tears of
this pious mother, and of the warnings and
entreaties of the Holy Spirit, he had gone
on for many years. He described struggles,
to which I, for one, was no stranger. But
what were my feelings when he referred to
that one resolve upon the river-shore, on
that night when he boldly refused to enter
the boat, and declared that he would not
break the Sabbath! That, my dear young
friends," said Charles,-" that resolution,
fearlessly spoken, broke the hardest link in
the chain that bound me, and the others
were comparatively easy." I cannot de-
scribe the feelings with which I looked
upon Charles, as he stood there, "made
free," and urged us to accept the same
glorious freedom. Our aged pastor, who
had followed the company from the table,
and now sat leaning upon the top of his
staff, wept like a child; and never from his
pulpit had we heard so fervent a prayer as
now fell from his lips, and closed the exer-
cises in the grove.



Evening of the Fourth. Sad discovery. The broken reed.
Dark days. Honest labor a safeguard to virtue. Without
God. Hatred and defiance.

"Astonished I cry, can a mortal be found,
Encompassed by sorrow, like me ? "

MOTHER did not ask me where and how I
had spent the Fourth. Something more
than weariness seemed to oppress her, as
she sat languidly rocking to and fro, on
that evening, after our return from the
grove; while I, silent and depressed like
herself, had thrown myself upon a plain
lounge, which, neatly covered with showy
patch, was the principal ornament of our
humble parlor; for though our house had
once been handsomely furnished, I had no-
ticed, that for two or three years past, our
most elegant things had been slowly dis-
appearing, and now as I looked around the
room, partially lighted by the moonbeams,


things looked scanty and meagre. Some-
thing was wanting that had left a most
chilling vacancy. I looked anxiously upon
the naked walls, and I understood it all.
"Mother," said I, starting to my feet,
" where are those portraits? "
Mother was silent, but I saw by the moon-
beams which rested upon her white, bony
hand, that it was pressed tightly to her
face, and large tear-drops were forcing their
way between the fingers. "Mother," said
I, in a softer tone, as I seated myself by her
side, will you tell me where they are ."
"They are sold," she replied, now sob-
bing aloud, and rocking more rapidly back-
ward and forward.
Sold! I repeated, in a tone of regret
which came from my very heart; for I felt
as though my guardian angels were gone.
They were the portraits of my father and
mother, taken by an eminent English artist,
who, during the first year of their mar-
riage, sojourned in this country. They
were extremely valuable as specimens of
art; but this was no part of their exceeding



worth to me. They had been the light and
pride of my young heart almost from the
moment of its birth. With what delight
had I in the days of childhood brought my
favorite companions to peep through the
lattice and see that beautiful picture of my
papa, and to tell them that the sweet lady
at his side, with the bright ringlets and
laughing eye, was just like my mamma,
before father was put into his grave! Nor
had this innocent pride of my childhood
faded from my heart with the flight of years.
I still exulted in the admiration always
expressed whenever the portraits of my
youthful parents were seen; and now with
heart-sickening regret, I exclaimed several
times, "sold! those beautiful pictures sold !"
But I was at last roused from this painful
reverie by the hysterical sobs of my mother.
She had always manifested great self-
control in my presence, and I was now not
only alarmed, but greatly surprised, as she
threw her arms around me, as if for protec-
tion, and lay her poor beating head upon
my shoulder. A faint light flashed upon


me, and made a new revelation to my
heart; and 0, with what a weight of re-
sponsibility did that revelation come! We
are changing characters, said I to myself;
my poor mother, who has borne the burden
and heat of life's day for fifteen years, all
alone, is now fainting with weariness, and
if I refuse to lift this burden, she must die.
She is broken with care and sorrow; now I
must stand up in the strength of my young
manhood, and be'her staff, or she will fall;
I must be a careless, unthinking boy no
longer. And inspired by these thoughts, I
spoke to my mother as I had never done
before, and she wonderingly looked up into
my face, as though it were a pleasant
dream, and something like hope beamed
from her heavy eyes. "My son," said she
at last, greatly composed, "you seem like
your father; you have much of his natural
kindness and affection, but-" But what,
mother?" I asked; "tell me how I am
unlike my father." You have not his
strength of purpose, his noble decision of
character, and I have erred in your educa-


tion. This discovery of error has been re-
cent-very recent, and exceedingly appall-
ing to me, because I feared that the time to
remedy this mistake had gone by." "How
have you erred, mother?" I asked. By
teaching you, my son," she said, that you
have in yourself, and of yourself, a moral
strength sufficient to resist evil and choose
the good. I have found," continued moth-
er, "' to my great confusion, that this is not
true. I wondered at the failure of this prin-
ciple in your case, my son, long before I
perceived its failure in my own. When
your father died, I was for a time over-
whelmed with hopeless grief. A blight had
fallen upon my young heart, and it seemed
to me that its flowers would never bloom
again. But I at last remembered myself as
a mother, and began for your sake to rally
my little remaining strength. It came at
my call, and I began to grow proud of my
power to do and to endure. I thought
much of the moral dignity of my nature,
by the strength of which I resolved to tri-
umph over every evil. I sought to arm


you with the same weapon, but found, to
my constant mortification, that with you, it
proved but a rope of sand. Still I regarded
it as our 'stronghold,' until I saw its power
in myself unequal to the labor and trial of
my day. O," continued mother, "how
often, for the year past, have I called on
this strange god whom I had chosen to go
before me through the world's wilderness,
and found that he was weak as myself!
Thus I have struggled with the downward
tide, until, during the few last weeks, it has
nearly overwhelmed me."
"Have we been growing poorer ever
since father died? I asked. "So it seems
now," said mother, though I have not al-
ways been aware of this. There has been
for several years a gradual failure of our
resources; still I have hoped for some favor-
able change, and was unwilling to cast a
shadow upon your childhood by making
you a partner in my cares." 1" Pardon me,"
said I, but I think, mother, that this was
a mistake. I should have been a more
thoughtful and better boy, if I had been


made to bear my part of this burden."
"Perhaps so," she replied; "but I hoped
that my fears would prove groundless,-
that I should, at least, be able to give you a
good education before the evil day should
come; and then all would be well." Poor
mother!" said I;-' how much you must
have suffered, and how much I have added
to your suffering by my careless, extrav-
agant habits! And yet, Edgar, you
must have known that we were poor."
"Yes," I replied, "I did know it; but I
had become so accustomed to seeing you
manage some way to supply my wants,
that I thought your ingenuity as great a
revenue as that of gold and silver. I never
reflected that this laborious management
was causing you anxious days and sleepless
nights;-yes, killing you by inches, moth-
er."' "You are not the thoughtless boy
I have feared you were," said mother,
the tears starting to her eyes afresh; "and
for this I must thank God, and not my
own foolish management." '" Now," said I,
" will you tell me just how we are situated,


and what is necessary to save us from ex-
treme want?" After some hesitation,
mother replied, "l There is quite a mortgage
upon our place, which must be paid off
within a year, or we shall be without a
home; and then, to tell you the truth, Ed-
gar, I am without means for our present
support. We have lived for some time upon
money raised from the sale of our hand-
somest furniture. The sale of those por-
traits was deferred until I had not a cent left,
and then, bitter as was the trial, I was obliged
to submit." I must leave school," said I,
" and go to work." Lo You know little about
work,"-and mother spake in a desponding
tone,-" your labor will hardly suffice to
pay your own board for some time to come;
and then, I have so desired to keep you
from such associations "-here mother re-
lapsed into another fit of weeping. Poor
woman! how little did she know, that in
trying to save me from association with
honest labor, she had exposed me to the
greatest curse of youthful idleness, namely,
an association with the dissolute and pro-

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