Title Page

Group Title: red book
Title: The Red book
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00003576/00001
 Material Information
Title: The Red book
Physical Description: 45, <2> p. : ill. ; 14 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Carlton & Phillips ( Publisher )
Publisher: Carlton & Phillips
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: 1851
Subject: Sisters -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Family -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Pride and vanity -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Teenage girls -- Conduct of life -- Early works to 1900 -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1851
Genre: non-fiction   ( marcgt )
Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Early works to 1900   ( lcsh )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
Statement of Responsibility: by the author of Little Henry and his bearer.
General Note: 2 p. of advertisement of books published for the Sunday-School Union of the Methodist Episcopal Church at end.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00003576
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: ltqf - AAA4954
notis - ALH7916
oclc - 45455707
alephbibnum - 002237429

Table of Contents
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
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        Page 17
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Full Text




BY T118

AUT110 R




NeCl-Jori :



& PH'II~rPS,

5 '00 M LBEr ltY-8B TR T.




I aM one of several happy sisters,
living in the house in which we were
born, and partaking of every comfort
which children can enjoy under a
tender parent's roof.
I have two sisters older than my-
self, and as many younger; andain
order to give my reader an idea of
our ages, I must add, that we are all
in our teens, though our eldest sister
will soon arrive at the dignity of being
twenty years of age.
We live in the country, uiut within
a pleasant walk of one of the pretiest
towns in England; ad if we hate
tfhe privilege of attending an excellent
- preacher in the town, we havelso ,

the delight of seeing some of the most
beautiful works of God from the win-
dows of our house. There are two
rooms, opening into each other, at the
top of the house, which our kind pa-
rents have given up entirely to, us.
In these we have each a bed, a chair,
and a chest of drawers and, in cold
weather, wle are allowed a fire in one
of these rooms. We lave each of us,
also, a table with a small looktr-~ ass
upon it; and we are required to keep
every thing in the ex ctest order.
My place i thiLse rooms is, I consider,
far tlhe most pleas1tant, though my
sisters -do not agree with me and that
you will says quite as well, for if all
human beings had the same tastes,
there wou l be 'r~i e quarrels in the
world than there are now,-which
would by no means be desirable, for
there is no family on earth which
does 1l0o occasionally suffer from tile


ill temper of its

members ;

but this

will not be
shall all be

so in heaven, for there


one in Christ, and be of

one mind and

one spirit.

But I


that I like my own place better

than that of -my


and for this


I have

a window entirely tof

myself: it

is a casement

deed, projecting from the roof, but it

looks down over all tlhe


in the

i. -

garden, into


a litti

a valley, through "which
c river, not a Ia i *

*1 ,r



window, in-


one, indeed, but on that account the
more delightfully solitary, and retired
from the haunts of men, and in the
meadows arc sheep and cattle feeding.
In the remote horizon is a range of
blue hills, and between the hills and
the river are many groves of trees
anAther beautiful objects, forming a
thousand varied combinations, so that
the eye is never tired of these scenes.
Our parents have taken great pains,
from our very earliest infaney, to lead
us to associate spiritual and holy ideas
with the beautiful and varied works
of God; and, in some instances, they
have succeeded to their hearts' con-
tent, fdr my sisters are not only truly
pious, but have much of that turn of
mind which rES piety pleasing in
the eyes of some' who would be dis-
gusted with it, if it were to appear in
a coarser form. In short, I believe
that never were parents blessed with


four more lovely daughters than my
parents are in my sisters. I alone,
since we entered our teens, have ever
given my parents any serious uneasi-
ness. I shall proceed to explain the
cause of the uneasiness I gave them,
in as brief a manner as possible.
When I was fourteen years of age,
I was invited to spend a few months
with a relative at Bath. This lady,
although she was very kind to me in
other matters, seemed to have forgot-
ten the most important duty she could
perform for me, namely, to lead me
from the pomps and vanities of this
wicked world; and, in consequence,
suffered me to engage in all sets of
vanities while I remained with her.
I then, for the first time heard beauty
a'd fashion talked of as veryJ~ in tant
things, and actually toek it io my
head that I was handsome; an
I came home, I was in con p_


very unhappy, and could not enter
into any of the i d pleasures of
my sisters. One ofthe first things I
remember which I did on my return
was to move my little dressing-table
from its old place opposite my bed to
a situation under the willow, telling
my sister that it was impossible to see
clearly in the looking glass which
stood uppn the table, while the light
came upon it in an oblique direction.
My sites laughed at iae, t ough in a
gonqdhumoureld way; and expressed
& fear that the glare of the freestone
of which Bath is built had injured
Say7 eyesight.
The dissatisfaction which I exhibit-
ed at home, for some time after my
return, ws at; .mt attributed to the
pain I had felt in parting with my
be; h when .is uneasiness
oxtied after the lapse of several
. we amd I refused to enter into Ppy


of the business or pleasures of my
sisters, my mamma became angry
with me-at first she reasoned with
mne, ai"l pointt(l out the iunratitude
toward God which I displayed in thus
being dissatisfied in a situation where
I was surrounded by so many bless-
ing1s; and then, when she found that
these milder Tmeasures would not -do,
she reproved me more sharply, and
thus leld me to endeavour to seem
more satisfied, and to become more
industrious, though in reality I was
not changed as to my feelings. I still
sighed for the worldly pleasures I had
lost, and it was my chief delight at
that time to run up to my room, and
to contemplate myself in my lookii
glass wlho never I could find an oppo,
tmunitv. When I was fifteen, I was
tallowedl to purchase my own clothes,
a privilege which had been allowed
l nmy tw\o ( IOr swste rs at the same



age; and then I had a new subject
of thought, and was always full of
contrivances how to dress better than
my sisters for the same sum of money,
and how to fabricate thelhost becom-
ing caps and bonnets; thus I spent
every moment I could get to myself
in studying and consulting my glass;
and though my parents, more than
once, told me that my glass was a
false friend, and even gave me bad
advice in the very thing in which it
might be supposed to be most sincere,
for it taught me to disfigure rather
than to adorn myself, yet I was not
to be persuaded. I had been at Bath,
and I thought I knew better than any
body else what was genteel and
Fashionable, and I would not believe
either of my parents when they told
me that I had acquired a false taste,
and was in the way to make myself
very ridiculous.



Thus, however, I went- on endea-
vouring (though in vain) to make
myself happy in my own way till the
month of January, 1828, when my
father, one day while we were sitting
after dinner, received a small packet
from London; he opened it imme-
diately; it contained a number of
little books bound in red, and made
to close like pocket-books. My father
smiled as he opened the packet, and
placing the books in a row before him
on the table, he guarded them in a
playful way with his hand, sayi.,
" No one touches either of these booki
before I have made my bargain." .
"Your bargain, papa," said my
y o~gest sister, 'money do you mean
I arm ready to pay all you ask; yei
will not want .more than fifty*-
cetts, I dace say, for one bok,:y i
wiay, let me have one of those ~
tifu books."
UAL. ': .

"Money will not satisfy me," said
our papa, "I must have a promise
from each of you, before I give out
these books, that you will keep them
on your tofnet, and repeat or read the
portions for the day, every time you
look in your glasses."
A smile went around on hearing this
proposal; and I fancied there was a
direction of every eye toward me, by
which I was a little embarrassed;
however, I willingly added my voice
to, those of my sisters, assuring our
father that each of us would gladly
accept a little Red Book on the pro-
posed, terms. Think again," added
our father solemnly, "are you net
making rather a blind bargain ? you
)have not seen the inside of these
books. I have indeed hinted that,
dioy contain a portion o(fa lga
Sapiprpriated for each day, and I will
:- now tell you that there'are as mipy


portions as there are diys in the
present year; but how do you know
what sort of sentiments may be-eon*
trained in these portions ?"
"We are not so blind asayou wo4d
make it appear, dear papa," repimed
my eldest sister; we know whom
we are dealing with, and we again
accept your terms." "Well, then,"
he said, "remember we are upoan
honour, take each your book, and may
they be blessed to you," so saying, he
presented each of us with a book, and
rising, left the room. We were iial
tient, you may be sure, to ascr tain
the nature of our little Red- Books.,.
and we found the following words in
the title page :-" Daily Food for
Christians, being a promise and
other Scripture portion for every day
in the year, together with a ver seo t
a" hymn7. .
We were all pleased'
-*- : *


papa's prent, but perhaps my plea-
sure rather consisted in the novelty
and beauty of my little possession,
than i its intrinsic merit; indeed, I
had no idea at that time of the trea-
sures and consolations contained in
this little volume.
From that time our little Red Books
formed a part of our toilet apparatus;
|.ey were laid on the right side of
our looking glass, while our dressing
boxes occupied the other, all being
neatly .;arranged on a linen cloth
trimmed with white fringe, a-quantity
of whici had been prepared by our
great grandmother, long before any
of us had been even thought of.
There was a vast bustle about our
daly portions during the first few
days, and we repeated them to each
er as we were dressing and un-
Sdressing; and I prided myself idfbeing
able to repeat them all from the begin-

ning of the year till abotthe middle
of February, at which time my relative
sent me a small parcel of ribands and
artificial flowers from Bath, and then
I began to relax in my attentions to
my little Red-B.ook; and as I Whd
hitherto been the person who had
made the most bustle about ou daily
portions, they were much less talked
of, and seldomer repeated aloud "i
our rooms, though I could not help
observing that when my sisters were
dressing they were almost invariably
occupied by them, for they seldoi
talked on those occasions, and I could
see their lips moving as if they were
learning by heart.
SIn the meantime I had netr. felt
the power of any of the texts or verses
which I had learned; they hadnever
touched my heart, although I po-
ed, taste enough to discern Ar bett
of same of them; but a diMermri nt

of the'beauty of Scripture is (luite a
distinct thing' from a sense and feeling
of its power. The carnal mind is at
enmity with God, it cannot discern
the things of God; and though I had
been taught the doctrines of religion
in their utmost purity from infancy, I
was as blind to their real import as
were those who had never known any
thing respecting them. Consequent-
ly, every v-erse or portion of Scripture
which spoke of the paternal love of
our heavenly Father flohis chosen
alid redeemed ones, wasb me as in-
explicable as the darkest riddle; and
I remember particularly starting at the
portion of Scripture for the 15th of
January, viz.:--" There is therefore
now no condemnation to them which
are in Christ Jesus, who walk not.O
after the flesh, but after the Spirit; ;
Romans" viii. 1, with the following
versero a hymn :--

" Who shall the Lord's elect condemn ?
'Tis God that justifies their souls;
And mercy, like a mighty stream,
O'er all their sins divinely rolls."

I even went so far as to s
verse of the hymn, (for I
to laugh at a passage of
and to ask my eldest sister
there could be in mercy 1
people's sins.
I remember well my
swer: "As to those wi
Christ, Louisa," she said,
those whom the Almighty

for his own children, and
this passage respecting them
ture.: 'Who shall IIa any
the charge of God's elect?
that justifieth,' Romans
"And mercy," she added,
pared to a sea rolling over
because mercy provides the

washingi Xj

mile at the
did not dare
what sense
rolling over

sister's an-
dich are in-
S" they are
has adopted"

we have
in Scrip-
thing to
it is God
viii, 38.
"is comrr
our sins,
means of

or blotting tlhin out by the
c i)


blood of Chtt, so that they shall not
appear recorded against us; and those
who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ
have their sins pardoned, and are
passed from death unto life."
I was rather in awe of my eldest
sister, not from any sefrity of manner
in her, but because I knew her to be
strong in piety, and, consequently, in
good works; and such characters
must ever be respected, even by the
ungodly. I therefore did not venture
any more -comments, in her hearing,
and, indeed,& after the ribands and
flowers came from Bath, I thought
little more of my pretty Red Book. It
lay on my toilet, indeed, in its usual
place; but I can safely assert, that
From the "end of February till the
beginning of April, I scarcely opened
it once. And though I continually.
ran up from the, parlour to fit ai
suit some, l I was making and

adorned with the presents I had re-
ceived, yet I never once, as I can
recollect, in all that time remembered
my promise to my father, or so much
as opened my book when I went to
my toilet.
On the 3d of April, however, one
little circumstance gave me some un-
easy feelings on the subject of my
little Red Book.
I was at my toilet dressing to go
out to tea with my parents and two
elder sisters, and my younger sisters,
Anny and Sarah, were sitting at work
on the ledge of the window near
which mydressing table stood. They
had their little Red Books by them,
and were examining each other onf
the portions they had learned from th&-
beginning of the year. They did not
address me, yet I could not but hear
all they said to each other.
It was one of those- exquisitely

lovely evenings of spring which con-
vey to the mind the idea of that sort
of temperature which we may believe
our first parents might have enjoyed
in the bowers of Eden.
The tender new leaves were scarce-
ly agitated by the balmy breath of
the gentle breeze, the perfumes of
opiniag flowers and blossoms rose up
to the windows from the garden and
orchard below, and the song of the
birds, and the bleating of the more
distant flocks, added their delights to
this feast of the senses. "And now,
Anny," said Sarah, repeat the verses
for to-day." Anny did as she was
desired, He shall feed his flock like
a shepherd, he shall gather the lambs
, with his arms, and carry them in his
bosom," Isaiah xl, 11.

( When faint and trembling with alarms,
0 gather us within thine anus ;

Kind Shepherd, on thy gracious breast
The weakest lamb may safely rest."
I am the good Shepherd; the good
Shepherd giveth his life for the sheep,"
John x, 11.
"There now," said Sarah, with
glee, "there now, how nicely those
verses come in to-day, how exactly
they suit what we see before us; look,
Anny, look down into the valley, do
you not see that beautiful field full
of sheep and lambs ? I can distinguish
the lambs quite plail4y, there are
numbers of them; and how green.
and fresh their field is; and there a&
trees in blossom in the hge q; and
I dare say that theret are I s
and violets under those hedge qI j
now, does not that field .el, .
think of the time when w*,fr Lt
Gathered together by te. .d
herd, and shall dwelq uith
wilderne and sleep in' ie 44
s A ...

I am sure that this verse was chosen
for April, the time of lambs, and flow-
ers, and green fields, that people might
see these things and think of the good
Shepherd while they are learning
their verses."
I know not what more my little sis-
ters said, for I was called down at
that moment; but though I tried to
be cheerful that evening, I could not
be s9, for I felt vexed to think how
much more faithfully my younger
sisters had kept their promise to papa
than I had done; and I also felt that
they had already received their reward
in the peace and happiness they en-
Sjoyed; but these good thoughts soon
Passed away.
Soon after the events had taken
place which I mentioned in the for r
part of my narrative, my father havi9
been drenched in a shower, and obli-
ged to keep-his ~et clothes upon him
t ..Aj "-s i frTC^^ t

for some hours, hrwas seized with
a shivering fit, which alarmed my
mother very ruch, a thoughu- every
care was taken, he cotnued so un-
well as not to be able to leave his
bed for several days. While he still
remained in this condition, my relative
from Bath arrived at the neighboring
town. Hearing of my father's illness,
and having a weak feeling of dislike
to enter a house where a person was
unwell, she sent to request mr com-
pany at the inn. She was on her
road to Barrnouth, and as soon as we
met she set my spirits all in agitation
by saying that it was her int)ftio* ..
obtain permission of my paVirta to
take me with her. -
I was perfectlJ ~flWre that my
.pents did not tb t I wuence
if my relative was mbe rne.
They arte lovers of si k i
Stave always wish& k
- r^' 4

children in it; but my relative is a
lover of the world, and hence their
modes of thinking are utterly opposed
to hers, and hers to theirs. However,
I did not despair of the effects of my
relative's earnest application, and I
was not disappointed. My father
gave an unwilling consent to my
journey, and every hand was engaged
in preparing my wardrobe.
My clothes were packed up by my
two elder sisters, my mother being
engaged with my father. I handed
the things to them as they kneeled on
the floor by the boxes, and I remem-
ber that, among other things, I pre-
gented my little Red Book, not that I
cared whether I had it with me or not,
but that I thought it would not look
well to leave it behind me.
"Had you not better put that book ingt
your pocket, Louisa ?" said my eldest
sister: "you will want it on theooad

-it will be several days before you
can open your boxes." I forgot that
circumstance," I replied; "yes, it
will be better to put the book into my
pocket," and to that repository it was
accordingly committed, and there it
lay undisturbed till my pockets were
changed at the end of the journey,
when it was transferred from those I
took off to those I put on, and so on
throughout the whole of my time at
I was in hopes I should have seen
my father a little better before I left
home, but I had not that satisfaction;
he was in bed when I took leave of
him on the morning of my departure,
and he looked so very pale, that for
a moment I almost wished that I had
not united with my relative to obtain
permission for my journey; but when
I got into the coach, and saw new
faces and new scenes, I ~soaa- l
'* -*' .I 'I r; *
""I .? i

these tender feelings, and was wholly
occupied with the anticipation of the
pleasures I was to enjoy at the public
place to which I was bound.
Whoever has been at a public
watering-place knows what a crowd
of vanities burst upon the senses of
those who first enter into such scenes.
In t~ese places it often- seems as if it
were the sole business of life to dissi-
pate time, to see and be seen, and to
enjoy every folly as it passes. It is
not well to be severe, yet surely it
cannot be consistent with dying yet
immortal creatures, to cultivate only
those things which have a reference
to this present life. Ought a travel-
ler to settle himself so comfortably
at an inn as to forget his home, with
all its domestic joys and interesting
During the first few-days of our
^Rwsidence at Barrnouth, I thought so



much of tlhe company and the fash
ions that I quite forgot the state of my
poor father, and was therefore a good
deal hurt when a letter came to tell me,
he was no better.- I soon, however, re-
covered my spirits, and another fort-
night passed, during which I had no
letter. At length a lady who was at
Barmouth, from our neighbourhood,
called and informed me that she was
about to return next day, and would
take -me home if I wished to be pre-
sent to assist my mother in nursing
my father. I had several pleasant
schemes in veiw at that time, and
could not think of giving them up, and
this was the more wicked in me, be-
cause my relative left it entirely to
my choice to do as I liked.
That same evening I had a letter
from my eldest sister, saying tat my
father continued very ill, andt4 lig,
in a kind sisterly manner, that ise

thought it would please my parents
much if I would return with our neigh-
bour: but I was eager at that time in
the pursuit of pleasure, that is, a lover
of pleasure more than a lover of
God. I paid no attention to my
sister's hMit, and let my neighbour
depart without me, .though I gave her
a 0e to carry to my mother, in
.wbii I tried to excuse my self for my
want of feling,- though I had little to
the purpose to say for myself. I did.
not, however, gain any thing by my
undutiful conduct; for two days
afterward, my relative was sent for
home on a very mournful occasion,
and after a melancholy and rapid
' journey, was obliged to hasten for-
ward without rest, after having deli-
.flre4me over to tI 'charge of the inn-
kecpils wife in the town whicli4s
n A eto my father& house.
.It was so late when I arrived at ths
." v .* l _

town, that I could not go
night; I therefore stayed
ortwo at the inn, and very

Z. M, ll

home that
for an hour
early in the

morning ha-wg procured a porter to
accompany~ie, .nd carry myluggage,
I set out to walk home. It was so
early that I met no one by the way
of whom I could ask any news ,f my
father. Judge then, my reader, ifyo
can, what I must have felt wen
having knocked at the hall door, a
servant looked out front the balf, .l
and exclaimed, "0 Misa is.t' yi T

how unfortunate! but you must not
come in."
"Not come in," I asked, "what
can be the meaning of this? and I
thought ofevery thing that is horrible;
but as I do not wish to speak very
large y of this part of my story, I
shall infora my readers, in a few
wotds, of the true state of the case.
It sod that my fathers illness, which
ad begun with a sort of ~ar and
slight fe.erishness, had ended in a
decided putrid fever. This fever had
spread its contagion to my two elder
sisters, before it had been ascertained,
and my little sisters had been preserv-
-ed from the infection only by having
been sent out of the house to some
distance. The servant also told me
me that my father was in great dan-
ger, and that my mother, having been
up a-l eight had just retired to get a
little re: 0! who can tell what I

endured at that moment? I begged,
I entreated to be let in, that I might
see my father, and die with him. In
my agony I endeavored to force the-
door open, but the servant, who had
been long in our family, entreated me
to be more rational, and not to add to
my mother's misery, by rushing into
danger. She also pointed out what
she thought it would be most advisa-
ble for me to do.
In a fieW of my father's, at the bot-
tom of his arden, is a neat cottage
occupied a respectable old woman
and her fighter. This old woman
is by pro ssion a nurse, and was
actually at that time in attendance on
my father. Her daughter is a dress-
maker, and a very respectable person,
well known to us. The servant ad-
vised me to go to this cottage, and-re-
main there till she could consult ray
mother respecting it. 0! it was with



a heavy, heavy heart, that I turned
,awayfrom rm sorrowful home to seek
a refuge in this eottagefrom the cruel
disease which threatened the life of
several of those most dear to me.
Such, indeed, Y.s my agony, at
the-porter Who was with ie carryir
my trunk, could net trefeai froi,
trying to comfort me as a~e wal wi
along: and one sentence he 4ropjdp
at that time was not wita its in-
fluence-"Miss, he siakoni be
down-hearted, God is a Silent:
you must pray to him, and ill have
pity ot you." I contain to weep
and sob till I reached the ttle wicket
which opened into the cottage garden,
and had not the porter helped me out,
I should not for some time hate been
able to explain to Mary Evans; the
nurse's dauglfter, the reason for my
appearance at such an hour, with my
trunks, and with my dress all in disor-

der, for Ihad travelled, as I before said,
most part of the night. As soon, how-

ever, as the young woman understood
my distress, she showed me every pos-
sible kindness, she put clean sheets on
her bed, and made me lie down, for
I was very much fatigued. She made
me some tea, and brought it up to ms
after which she set down by me with
her needle and I slept for several hours.
But when I awoke and looked arquid
me, and found myself in a cottage,



instead of a gay lodging in a fashion
able watering-place, and remembered
too the reason for my being there, I
felt almost as if my senses would for-
sake me. I sat up in bed, and cried
and sobbed with violence, wringing
my hands, and calling on my dear
father. "0 papa, papa," I exclaimed,
"0 that I had never, never left you!
How happy my sisters will be, even
if they should die, for they were with
you, dearpapa, when I was far away;"
and then I insisted upon getting up
and going to inquire after my fa
"You must not go to the house,
miss," said Mary Evans. "Think
what your mother's distress would be
if you were to get the fever, and you
would be more liable to get it than
another, coming as you do out of the
fresh air; if you will not promise me
to keep at a distance from the house,

I will go immediately and complain
to your mother."
"I will promise, Mary, I will pro-
mise," I answered; "but let me go to
the rails which divide the field from
the garden, and let me look at the
house, and call to the gardener; I shall
go distracted if you will not let me do
"To be sure I will, miss," said
Mary, "I would not add to your grief,
you have enough to bear;" and she
helped me to dress, for I trembled so,
that I could not put on my clothes;
and when I was dressed I went out,
promising to return by one. o'clock,
when dinner was to be ready. And
now, my dear reader, think what I
must have felt, I who had been ac-
customed to be the indulged member
of a large, affectionate, and happy-fa-
mily; who had but afew dayspaM e n6
moving about in gay scenesof fatf on

and of earthly pleasure. What must
have been the misery and horror of my
condition, as I stepped out alone and
unnoticed from the humble cottage
where I had been glad to find a re-
fuge and entered by a little wicket
into the orchard which joined my
father's garden, being afraid at each
step of meeting some one who might
tell me that my father or my sisters
were no more!
The orchard is extensive, and is
deeply shadowy in some places. A
few benches were set here and there
under the trees. I remembered scenes
which had passed in each of these
places. There I had sat when a child on
my father's knee; there I had been with
my sisters engaged in dressing our
dolls; there I had gone alone to learn
my lessons; and there our mother
had sat with her dear children around
her to amuse them with such little

tales as children love. But all these
recollections only added to my anguish,
and every object I beheld seemed
only to make me more and more mise-
At length I was seen from an upper
window of my father's house, as I
stood leaning against the railing at
the bottom of the garden, by the same
servant who had spoken to me in the
morning, and the next minute she ap-
peared in the garden, but stopped at
some distance from me. How is
my father, Susan ?" said I. She he-
sitated a little, and then replied,
"Much the same, miss."
"He is worse," I answered. I
am sure he is worse."
"No;" she replied, "no, I hopi
not, but he is very bad, I would not
deceive you, dear miss. There is no-
thing now to be done for him but to
pray that he may be spared to his

family; but, dear miss, you must not
come nearer. Your mamma sends
her kindest love to you, and begs you
as you value her blessing not to come
here. She is very sorry for you.
She wept .when she heard you were
returned, and she approved of what
I advised you to do; but you must
not come a step nearer." So saying,
she turned away, and I saw that she
was weeping. I dropped on the grass
at the moment Susan turned from me,
and I think that for some seconds I
must have quite lost my recollection,
for I can remember, as I came to my-
self, that all the objects in the orchard
seemed to be reversed, and that it
was some time before they appeared
to settle again into their places. A
violent burst of tears then relieved me,
and I continued to weep for a length
of time. Now it so happened, that as
I was drawing out my handkerchief

from my pocket, to wipe away my
tears, that my long neglected little Red
Book came out with it, and fell at my
It is written, "Cast thy bread upon
the waters, and after many days thou
shalt find it." My father had done
this, and it was at this time that his
faithfulness began to have its effect
My eyes, as I wiped the tears from
them, fell upon my book, and at the
same time a tender and sweet recol-
lection presented itself of the day and
hour, and paternal manner, in which
that book had been given to me ; and
with these recollections came (I think
I may venture to say) the first truly
gracious experience of contrition I
had ever known; from that instant a
sort of childlike feeling of sorrow for
my past hardness and selfishness was
shed over my mind, and I began to
see that all I now suffered was no

more than I had deserved for my un-
dutiful and unfeeling conduct toward
my parents. And whereas, a moment
before I had thought myself the most
unfortunate of human beings, I now
began to see that I had been dealt
most mercifully with, in having (con-
trary to my inclinations) been brought
so near my parents, that I could hear
hourly of my father's state of health
and look at the house which contained
him, instead of being obliged to wait
in cruel suspense at Barmouth, for the
coming in of the post every four-and-
twenty hours.
In this, I trust, improved state of
mind, I took up my little book, resolv-
ing to make it my friend and counsel-
lor, and opening it casually, I found
this passage, May 14th:-
He hath not despised nor abhor-
red the affliction of the afflicted,"-
Psalm xxii, 24.

SAfflictions, though they seem severe,
In mercy oft are sent;
They stopped the prodigal's career,
And forced him to repent."
"Despise not the chastening of the
Lord, neither be weary of his copc-
tion; for whom the Lord loveth, he
correcteth, even as a father the son in
whom he delighteth," Prov. iii, 11, 12.
And is it possible, I thought, that
all these trials have been brought
upon me to bring me to that'which is
right; and does my God love me,
notwithstanding my pride and my re-
bellion! and I fell on my knees, and
if I mistake not poured forth my whole
soul in a prayer which denoted a con-
trite and a truly childlike spirit.
Although I had heard no good news,
yet my mind was assuredly in a less
miserable state when I returned to the
cottage to dinner, than it had been in
when I left it. Yet I had such an


anxiety and restlessness upon me that
I had scarcely tasted what had been
provided for me, before I again
returned to the orchard to watch for
any one who could give me informa-
tio' My mother, I found afterward,
could not bring herself to see me;
but the gardener spoke to me, and
tried to comfort me, although he had
no good news to tell me, for my sis-
ters were worse, and my father no bet-
ter; and as I still lingered in the
orchard, the nurse came out to me
toward sunset, and begged me to re-
turn to the cottage, assuring me that
I should become ill if I exposed my-
self to the night air. Neither did I
get any comfort from this second mes-
senger, but during the whole of that
long evening I had from time to time
been consulting my little Red Book,
and had been particularly struck by
some passages which I had found re-




ferring to the month of August.-
Among them I may mention August
"Commit thy way unto the Lord;
trust also in him, and he shall bring
it to pass," Psalm xxxvii, 5.
"All my times shall ever be
Order'd by thy wise decree;
Times of sickness, times of health,
Times of penury and wealth,
Times of trial and of grief,
Times of triumph and relief."
"0 Lord, I know that the way of
man is not in himself; it is not in
man that walketh to direct his steps,"
Jer. x, 23.
In meditating on these passages,
I ihad been strongly impressed with
the duty of acquiescence in the divine
will, and in consequence, when the
nurse admonished me to leave the or-
chard, I answered not a word, but re-
turned to the cottage, with my.little

Red Book in my hand, and actually
fell asleep repeating the texts I had
learned in the orchard. Little then
did I think how near relief was at
hand, and how very soon I should be
set free from that horrible suspense
in which I had lingered for the last
twelve hours. During that night I
was taken ill with a complaint in the
head, by which I was so entirely de-
prived of my recollection, that many
days, nay, some weeks passed with-
out my being able to remember any
thing that took place.
My life was long despaired of; but
at length my disorder took a favour-
able'turn, and after a long and deep
sleep, I opened my eyes, and found
my father sitting on one side of me,
and my mother on the other; and,
in a few days, I was conveyed from
the friendly cottage to my happy home.
Since that period, all my sisters have

been united with me in the tenderest
bonds of affection, being made of one
heart and one mind with me. Neither
have we, ever since our restoration of
health, omitted the daily study of
that little Red Book, which was my
sole guide and counsellor in the hour
of my deepest distress.



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