The Fisherman's daughter, or, Sebie's lessons, and the way she learned them

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Title:
The Fisherman's daughter, or, Sebie's lessons, and the way she learned them
Portion of title:
Sebie's lessons, and the way she learned them
Physical Description:
143 p., <3> leaves of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 16 cm.
Language:
English
Creator:
Mudge, Zachariah Atwell, 1813-1888
Pierce, William J ( Engraver )
Hyde, J ( Illustrator )
American Tract Society (Boston, Mass.) ( Publisher )
Publisher:
American Tract Society
Place of Publication:
Boston
Publication Date:
Copyright Date:
1865

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Anger -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Brothers and sisters -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children and death -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Lodging-houses -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Gold stamped cloth (Binding) -- 1865   ( local )
Bldn -- 1865
Genre:
Gold stamped cloth (Binding)   ( local )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston

Notes

General Note:
Illustrations engraved by Peirce after J. Hyde.
General Note:
Frontispiece printed in colors.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
All applicable rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier:
ltqf - AAA5745
notis - ALH0071
oclc - 12273008
alephbibnum - 002229736
System ID:
UF00004079:00001

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14





MIRS -1. WILLARD AND> SEEBIE. Pnir t6.3.





THE
FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER;
on,
SEBIE'S LESSONS,
AND
THE WAY SHE LEARNED THEM.
B OSTON:
THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY;
INSTITUTED 1814.
DEPOSITORIES, 28 CORNHILL, BOSTON; AND 13 BIBLE-HOUSE,
ASTOR PLACE, NEW YORK.





Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by
THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of
Massachusetts.





CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGO
TEE "FLYING CLOUD" ...... 6
CHAPTER H.
PLANNING AND TRYING . 18
CHAPTER III.
THE SOFT ANSWER . 27
CHAPTER IV.
A NEW FRIEND ... 89
CHAPTER V.
DISAPPOINTMENT .. . 50 .
CHAPTER VI.
TBYING TO PLEASE .. .. 69





4 CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VII.
PAGB
Too CONFIDENT .. 72
CHAPTER VIII.
SUsIE BENT ... .. 81
CHAPTER IX.
A NEW LESSON ......... 91
CHAPTER X.
THE DEATH 0r SUSIE .. 104
CHAPTER XI.
BEGINNING ANEW ... 114
CHAPTER XI.
SURPRISES .... 180





THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
CHAPTER I.
THE "FLYING CLOUD."
HAT a long storm this has been,
mother!" said Sebie Linn, as she
stood at the door of her mother's cot-
tage, and looked out upon the sea.
"Yes, my child," replied her mother, with-
out lifting her eyes from the dress she was
attempting to mend. Mrs. Linn did not
dare to look up lest her daughter should
see the tears which flowed fast upon her
work. It had indeed seemed to her like a
very long storm. The boat which contained
her husband had been due for nearly a week.
Much anxiety was felt for its safety at the





6 THE FISHBiMAs oS DAUGHTER.
Cove, as the fishing-village in which they
lived was called.
She had been at the beach many times to
inquire for the news. The old fishermen
shook their heads and looked at the anxious
wife, as if they regarded her already as a
widow.
The "Flying Cloud "-for that was the
name of the missing vessel-had been seen
at anchor on the fishing-ground when the
other boats left, as if defying the gathering
storm. Her more prudent companions, soon
after they hoisted their sails, had been driven
before an increasing gale, barely reaching
the safe retreat of the Cove before the full
force of the tempest came down upon the
sea. A rocky coast lay near the fishing-
ground, and the wind blew towards the
shore. Every day the fishermen of the Cove
strained their eyes to catch a sight of the
missing sail as it should come round the
point of rocks which bounded their anchor-





THE "F FL )'I.' CLOUD." 7
a e on the east. The huge waves broke
upon the reefs, and sent the spray in misty
clouds to the land. Each day the billows
iiw:rearl,: in size and in the fury with which
they rolled upon the beach.
"This storm extends far out to sea," said
John Neal, as he stepped back a little to
give the advancing water a free course.
"See, men, how the breakers increase in
size! It is an hour before high tide, yet the
sea is already near the top of the beach.
We must bestir ourselves and get the do-
ries out of the way. The bathing-houses
of the gentry will be likely to get smashed
up."
The next hour was one of stir and excite-
l-neut at the Cove. The sea swept the top
of the beach in many places, and flooded
tle fields and gardens beyond. The bath-
iong-hou-les (slight buildings put up by
summer boarders) were scattered in broken
fragments along th,. lhorie. The fish-hquses,





8 THE FISHERMAIS' DAUGHTER.
which had been imprudently built near the
-ordinary high-tide line, were lifted up and
borne into the road.
"No sailor upon the ocean can sail a
vessel in such a sea," said Eben Roper,
thrusting his hands deeper into his pea-
jacket pocket, by way of emphasis.
"Captain Linn can do it if any one
can!" responded two or three voices at
once.
"True," said Roper: "but see the dwell-
ing on Light-house Island! Not one of you
ever saw the spray sprinkle its roof as it
does now. The 'Flying Cloud' has made
her last trip."
"Poor Linn, and poor fellows that are
with him! said John Neal, with a tender-
ness unusual for the hardy, weather-beaten
men of the Cove; they were imprudent to
keep their anchor down so long upon the
fishing-ground. Old Jerry Pond, who can
snuff a storm when other sailors can see





THE "FLYINiG CLOUD." 9
only fair weather, shouted his warning to
Captain Linn. I'd take Jerry's word for it,
if he predicted a storm before noon on the
fairest morning that ever shone. But we
won't blame him. He has found a grave in
the deep waters, may be,- no mean resting-
place for an old sailor. We must lay up
these hulls of ours somewhere, by-and-by,
shipmates. Linn was a man that's had a
look out for such an event, and he has
found -what every man don't find at the
end of life's voyage a good haven."
These rough but sincere words caused a
serious expression on the countenances of
his hearers, who were not often deeply seri-
ous. They were accustomed to dangers,
and the death at sea of a shipmate was
no unusual thing. But the loss of six at
once -the number on board the "Flying
Cloud"- wrought deeply upon their sym-
patlies.
The storm at last spent its force, and the





10 THE rISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
sea in a few days subsided into its usual
monotonous dash upon the shore. The
"Flying Cloud "'never returned. No frag-
ment of her was ever found to tell its
mournful tale of her fate. But no doubts
were left upon the minds of bereaved
friends: the ocean had taken her to its sol-
emn depths with all her crew.
" What shall we do without father ?" said
Sebie Linn, when the last hope of her fa-
ther's return had departed. "What can
Eddie and I do? and what can you do,
mother ?"
"Trust in God, child," said her mother.
" Remember how many times your dear fa-
ther has said, 'God never forsakes those who
trust him.' "
" But it is so hard, mother," said Sebie,
sobbing. Father always got us every
thing we needed when the boat paid off.
He loved us all so, too! Who will get
things for us, and love us, now ? I don't





THE "FL YI2G CLOUD." 11
Want to be poor! The people don't love
poor folks."
" Hush, child !" said her mother, turning
away to conceal her own emotion. "God
loves the poor. He never forgets them.
We must try to help ourselves, and God will
raise us up friends. Your father would not
have left us so poor if he had not often been
sick. But he was, as every person believes
who knew him, a real Christian. You do
not know, my child, how much he has
prayed for you, and your little brother; and
I am sure God will not forsake the children
of those who love him."
Sebie had always been in delicate health,
and her parents had watched over her with
great tenderness, yet not with a blind devo-
tion. They mingled religious instruction
and Christian discipline with their expres-
sions of affection. Sebie rewarded their
care with a sincere love. She desired to
obey and please her parents; but she-had





12 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
one prominent fault,-she was impatient
under disappointment and contradiction.
When her little brother Eddie interfered
with her plays, or injured her playthings,
her generally pleasant face was clouded with
anger, and resentment flashed out from her
otherwise pretty blue eyes. It sometimes
happened that Sebie was engaged with her
dolls at the very moment when her mother
called her to do some little service. She
would on such occasions be very irritable;
perhaps brush her well-arranged playthings
into a confused pile, in her vexation at be-
ing disturbed. It was a great fault. Her
parents had corrected her often, reasoned
with her much, and prayed for her con-
tinually. Sebie made many resolutions to
do better, with what success we shall learn.
Little Eddie, her brother, like all little
boys, frequently did wrong things, through
ignorance of what was proper; yet he was
very affectionate, never intending to make
his sister angry.





CHAPTER II.
PLANNING AND TRYING.
C EBIE'S question, What shall we do ?"
was one that the Widow Linn could
i not easily answer. Yet her trust in
God was firm. She prayed much for
divine aid. She consulted also her religious
acquaintances. Mrs. Nolan and Mrs. Corey,
friends whose kind encouragement she great-
ly valued, called upon her frequently. After
much reflection, she resolved to take two
boarders during the visiting season. Her
cottage, though small, was beautifully situ-
ated. From the chamber windows a great
extent of ocean could be seen. The billows
dashed against the rocks just at the bottom
of the hill on which it stood. It commanded
a view also of the town not far distant. Its
18





14 THE FISHERMAI'S DAUGHTER.
church spires could all be counted from her
piazza.
Her furniture, though not elegant, was
neat and in good order. She was quite
sure she could provide satisfactorily for the
table, for in other years she had served in
the families of the rich, and knew their style
of living. She knew the labor would be
hard, but this she was willing to endure.
Sebie could be of some service, and the
profits, she hoped, would aid in sending her
to school later in the season.
Soon after the preparations were com-
1l..:-l, a married lady, whose name was
Evans, and her sister, 3I;-: Pond, came to
the cottage to board. These ladies were
persons of great consequence in their own
eyes. They talked much of their riches,
which was an evidence, Mrs. Linn feared,
that they were not rich at all, Mrs. Linn
had agreed that Sebie should render them
any little service she might be able to do,





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PLANNI7NG AND TRYIING. 15
by running of errands, or conveying their
wishes from their room to her mother.
Sebie thought this would be pleasant, be-
cause the ladies would be very kind. In
order to be at their service, she was directed
to remain in the hall, or upon the piazza,
when not specially employed.
"Take these letters to the mail, girl,"
said Miss Pond, one morning, in a sharp
tone. Sebie took 1i.. nm, but felt hurt to be
reproved, when she came back, because she
had not returned sooner.
"Now take this note to the Beach House
for room No. 15; and don't mope all the
way. I want you to do another errand."
Sebie, vexed at the unladylike tone and
manner of Miss Pond, jerked the note out
of her hand, and hastily left the room.
" What a disagreeable child she is!" said
Miss Pond. "I'll report her to her mother.
I'll keep her running, too, until she will be
glad to be pleasant about it for the sake of
a little rest."





1.6 THE FISHERMANYS DAUGHTER.
True to her purpose, Miss Pond required
a very hard service of her little attendant.
She also made complaint to her mother of
her impatient spirit. "Well," said Sebie,
in defense of her conduct, "Miss Pond is
real provoking, mother. She an't a lady,
as Miss Belle Harris is. She is never
pleased; and she never has waiting upon
enough. When I do my best, she does noth-
ing but scold. I shan't try to please her."
"Hush, my child!" said Mrs. Linn.
" Resentment never corrects a wrong.
Your angry expressions help to make Miss
Pond feel that she does right to bring
against you severe accusations."
" She has no right to vex me, though,"
said Sebie, beginning to cry.
"Certainly not," replied her mother.
"Nor think I must wait upon her all the
time, and then receive only a scolding."
"And that would be wrong too," said
Mrs. Linn; "but I wish you to learn the





PLANNING AND TRYING. 417
great lesson of forbearance. God has said
(Prov. xv. 1) 'A soft answer turneth away
,wrath; but grievous words stir up anger.'
It may be that the ladies require more than
they would if you were less easily made
angry."
"How can I, mother, be patient when
li:li1:, treat me ill? If it were only Eddie,
I should not mind it."
" And yet how often your little brother is
compelled to hear your hasty words when
he didn't mean to provoke you. When you
allow no provocation to be an excuse for ill-
temper, you will begin to understand your-
self, and not till then."
Sebie remained silent. She felt keenly
her fault. She went away into her room
to resolve to do better. But one thing she
neglected to do. She did not ask God to
,give her a right spirit.
Sebie's resolution was severely tried the
| next few days by the boarders. Miss Pond
2





18 TIHE ISHE94AfIA'S DAUGHTER.'
was really thoughtless, as well as unfeeling;
she knew notliln of the power of words of
gentleness and love over erring childhood.
But Sebie wtri:.vedl without reieriitnimnt; and
when, on the evening of the third day, she
kneeled to say her prayers at her bed-side,
she had a more joyful heart than she had
felt since the boarders came. Mother's
way is best," she exclaimed to herself, as
she threw her head upon her pillow. "I
nev er will get angry again."
Sebie rose early the next morning, and
hurried down to help her mother prepare
the breakfast. I shall keep my resolution
to-day," thought she, as she left her room.
It would have been much wiser for Sebie to
have paused a few moments and prayed for
strength to keep her resolution. She did
not yet know fully her own weakness. Her
mother had noticed the improvement in her
temper, and reuintlel her that God only
could give her strength to overcome every





PLANIVIN AND TrYING. 19
temptation Sebie paid but little attention
to this. remark, but bounded up stairs with
a light heart at the unusually early call of
Miss Pond. As Sebie entered the ladies'
room, Mrs. Evans met her with a look of
settled anger. But her sister did not re-
strain her feelings.
"Now, miss," she began, with great bit-
terness of tone, "we have certainly caught
you this time! We have missed many little
things, but thought, for the sake of your
mother, we would say nothing about them.
But a costly lace handkerchief is too valu-
able for such a low girl as you are. Now,
return it at once, and confess your fault,
and we will say no more about it; other-
wise, we shall have the house searched and
you punished."
"I have not taken your handkerchief,
ladies, I assure you," said Sebie, struggling
hard to repress the feeling of anger that the
accusation excited.





20 THE FISHERMAN'S DA UGHTER.
" Oh, you need not deny it, and think to
make us drop the matter by getting angry ;"
interposed Mrs. Evans.
"We know all about it," said Miss Pond.
"I took it from my trunk last evening, just
before retiring, and laid it upon my toilet-
table, as we expected to take an early walk
this morning. My sister took it up and ad-
mired it, and laid it down again. Besides,
my sister recollected that when you came
in, after we retired, to leave a goblet of ice-
water, you left the room with something of
the kind in your hand. She did not think
any thing of it at the time, but it confirms
our belief that you took the handkerchief.
Besides, we have searched every part of the
room. You must be the thief."
Sebie had stood to hear these accusations
with a face pale with excitement, but up
to this moment it had been an excitement
more of grief than of anger. But at the
last taunting charge her anger broke over





PLANNING AND TRYING. 21
all bounds. "You are no lady, Miss
Pond!" she exclaimed; you are no lady,
but a mean woman! and Sebie shut the
door violently, and hurried down stairs.
Her mother perceived the storm of pas-
sion that had driven from her face the sweet
expression of peace which marked it when
she went to the room of the ladies. She
had so often seen these bursts of passion
that the present instance excited more sad-
ness than surprise. So soon overcome,"
she remarked quietly.
"Well, mother, I don't want to be called
a thief, and I won't!" exclaimed Sebie,
raising her voice.
" A thief!" said Mrs. Linn, with earnest-
ness, stopping her work and looking at her
daughter. "Who calls you a thief?"
"The boarders do," replied' Sebie, too
angry to be grieved.
Mrs. Linn waited for the explanation of
the boarders before making any further re-





22 THE FISHEEItMAIS DAUGHTER.
marks. But she was sure that the accusa-
tion was without good reason. Miss Pond,
wllho was always more forward than her
older sister, soon made her appearance, and
urged her accusation with great violence
of manner; besides," she added, your
daughter is too impudent to be borne with,
and we shall leave your house immediately.'
Mrs. Evans soon app 'a, iarel,] gi e,-illgto the
accusations.
"It's all false, and they know it! said
Sebie, interposing.
You perceive her imllpel flmc ne,' said
Miss Pond impatiently.
Mrs. Linn commanded Sebie to leave the
room, and she instantly obeyed.
"Now, ladies," said Mrs. Linn, with
calm dignity, let us consider one accusa-
tion at a time. Are you quite sure that
the handkerchief is not in your room ? "
" Quite sure, ma'am," said Miss Pond,
with a contemptuous sneer. We can not





PAlsViKG AND iTRYIRG. 23
find it there, and my sister saw it go out of
the room in your girl's hand."
"Quite positive testimony," said Mrs.
Linn, turning her eyes calmly upon Mrs.
Evans,
" I did not exactly see the handkerchief
in her hands," said Mrs. Evans, but I did
see something which I thought could be
nothing else, when she retired last night,
after leaving the ice-water for which we
had called."
"You will be relieved to know," said
Mrs. Linn, that she brought away a nap-
kin which I had requested her to exchange
for one that was unsoiled. Now, ladies, as
my daughter has never before come under
such an accusation, I insist that you leave
no article unmoved in your room, before I
can allow its truth."
Mrs. Linn's firmness overcame all petu-
lant objections, and they returned to renew
their search. Mrs. Evans took from a ward-





24 THME FISHERMAN'S DBAUGTER.
robe-hook a dress that she had hung there
just before. retiring, and the lost handker-
chief dropped from the dress upon the floor.
She had thrown it upon the dress which lay
over the back of a chair, instead of laying
it upon the toilet-stand as she supposed.
As the dress was taken up by the loops, the
handkerchief slipped within it and caught
in its folds. The facts were clear at
once.
" What fools we have made of ourselves!"
exclaimed Miss Pond.
"We must make some amends to the
girl," said Mrs. Evans, in a moment of re-
gretful feeling.
" Amends!" echoed Miss Pond. "Go
down upon my knees to the impertinent
thing, I suppose! No, I'll leave the house,
and say we never found it. I'll make no
acknowledgments to poor folks "
*" That would be truly mean and low;
besides, you know your desire to make a





PLANNING A D TR YING. 25
show of your costly handkerchief in your
call upon the Misses Harris to-day."
"Well, let us get away, then, immediate-
ly; I never could bear to be caught in the
wrong by poor folks !"
With an ill-concealed mortification the
ladies acknowledged that the lost article was
found, but added, ungenerously, "'It doesn't
excuse your daughter's impertinence."
" True," replied Mrs. Linn, and I pro-
pose to require her to acknowledge to you
that fault, believing that you will, with
equal frankness, state to the child that your
accusation was not only a mistake, but was
urged too hastily and severely."
" I shall do no such thing, I assure you,"
said Miss Pond.
"I make it a rule," replied Mrs. Linn,
"to confess as fully a wrong done to chil-
dren as one done to my equal in age. It
is thus that they best learn the duty of con-
fessing wrong done to others."





26 T61B FISiEBRMA"PS DAUGH7'ER.
"We adopt no such pious notions," said
Miss Pond, with a toss of her head.
The boarders settled their bill the next
day, and sought another boarding-house.





CHAPTER III.
THE SOFT ANSWER.
AM glad they are gone," said Sebie,
when Mrs. Linn sat down to her plain
meal, with her children only, for the
first time after the departure of the
boarders. Sebie's mother did not answer.
She appeared very thoughtful.
After a few moments of silence, Sebie
again spoke. She did not feel just right.
She had been wronged; of that she was
sure. But she did not feel like one who
had done nothing wrong herself.
" Miss Pond accused me of stealing, and
called me a thief; but when she found her
handkerchief, and so knew I had not stolen
it, she took nothing back."
"You- an't a thief, Sebie, be you ? I
27





28 TaE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
know you an't! said Eddie, looking into
his sister's troubled face with an expression
full of love.
Sebie leaned forward and kissed Eddie,
tenderly, saying, The boarders knew it
too, and if they had only said so I -"
At this moment Sebie caught her mother's
eye. She hesitated but a moment, for her
mother seemed to read her thoughts. If
they had said they were mistaken I would
have told them I was sorry for my ill-tem-
per."
"Do you mean that you will never do
right while others do wrong?" said her
mother.
" Why no, mother."
" And is not a frank confession of our
fault the only way to please God ? added
Mrs. Linn, earnestly. "If we wait for
others to do right to us in all things we
shall seldom please him in that way. I am
sure, my daughter, that forbearance and a





THE SOFT ANSWER. 29
quiet respect on your part, even under the
false accusation, would have made the
boarders more deeply regret their hasty
judgment. You begat resentment by what
they, with too much truth, called imperti-
nence, and so they for this reason excuse,
though improperly, their own wrong."
" I see," said Sebie, sadly; "I never can
be like you, mother "
"Be not weary in trying to conquer a
wrong temper; but don't forget to ask help
from God," replied Mrs. Linn.
The question What shall I do ?" came
to Mrs. Linn now more seriously than ever.
She did not give up in discouragement, but
laid the whole matter before God in prayer.
Her husband had for many years before his
death done so in every perplexity. She
felt more and more confident that they who
trust in the Lord know by experience that
he directs their paths. She often remarked
to herself, God has his own way of di-





30 THE FISBlERMANS DAUGHTER.
reacting us. It may be by some unfore-
seen event, or by the counsel of Christian
friends."
While she was thus waiting in prayer,
her neighbor John Neal came in to extend,
in his rough but sincere way, any aid
within his power. Sebie listened to his
honest words with deep attention, and they
made a good impression by their simplicity
and good sense.
"It's a hard lot, may be, that a widow
like yourself has, who has lost a husband
such as every wife don't have," he re-
marked; "but there's a God, I'm a-think-
ing, who watches over us in all these mat-
ters."
"Of course there is," said Mrs. Linn,
smiling at the peculiar tone in which Neal
had uttered his confidence in God's provi-
dence.
" Well, I mean that John Neal sees these
things as he didn't once. There's my friend





THE SOFT ANSWEB. 81
.Nolan since he turned over a new leaf and
became a Christian, nothing goes wrong
with him. And then his Frank, who was
just the biggest little rascal at the Cove, is
now almost as good as Burtie Corey, Some-
how the children of these praying mothers
can't get along in wickedness as well as
others. They are like a swearing sailor in
a storm. They feel all the while that their
reckoning with the Almighty an't just up
to the mark."
"So you feel," interposed Mrs. Linn,
"that God answers prayer offered for
them."
"To be sure I do; and a right hearty
lift, as we sailors say, God gives such chil-
dren when they try to do right. But I was
a-going to drop a word to put you in a way
to be earning a penny since your boarders
are gone."
" Do," said Mrs. Linn, earnestly.
"Oh, it an't the thing it may be, only I





32 THE FISHERHMAN'S DAUGHTER.
heard a fine lady say that she'd like a care-
ful woman to wash and do up her very nice
things, and I told her you was the woman."
"Thank you, Mr. Neal."
" And I thought I'd say, too, may be this
smart young girl of yours, who han't got a
mite of lazy blood in her if she's like those
who have called her daughter, might pick
up some of the pretty shells, and gather the
mosses that many admire so much. They
might be turned to good account."
"I'll delight to do it, Mr. Neal," shouted
Sebie, jumping up and clapping her hands.
"And I will go with you too!" ex-
claimed Eddie. "I can help ever so much;
can't I, mother ?"
" You will try ever so much, little son, I
dare say," said his mother.
fMrs. Linn thought she saw God's hand in
the kind suggestions of John Neal. He
has always been a helper of others; God
bless him," she remarked, gratefully.





THE SOFT ANSWER. 83
Sebie entered upon her new employment
with large expectations of success. Burtie
Corey, who lived near, heard of her plans,
and offered to aid her. Burtie was study-
ing hard at an academy up in town," but
he told Sebie if she would go upon the
beach very early, he would assist her, for
the early morning was his time to take
exercise in walking.
Burtie was very fond of shells and mosses.
His mother had encouraged him from child-
hood to form a little cabinet of curiosities
from the sea. She had pointed out to him
the beautiful forms and colors of its shells
and weeds, and taught him to see God in
them.
Sebie was up and ready for her new busi-
ness the next morning, even before Burtie
made his appearance; but Burtie came at
an early hour. He pointed out every little
cove into which the surging sea could throw
the mosses, and the crevices among the
3





34 THE FISHERMAN'S DA UGBTER.
ledges of rocks where the whitened shells
had collected. Burtie then left Sebie in
high spirits, and returned to begin the
studies of the day.
The sun was high in the heavens, and
made the surface of the rocks almost scorch-
ing hot, before Sebie had filled her little
basket with shells. As directed by Burtie,
she selected the perfect ones only, of a del-
icate shape. Having completed this part
of her task, she set the basket upon a rock,
while she finished her collection of mosses.
" Oh, I am so glad I am almost ready to
go home," said Sebie, hardly knowing that
she spoke aloud. She was very weary, yet
she finished her gatherings in good spirits
at the thought of the cordial approval of
her mother. Just at this moment a rough
boy came hurrying down the bank with a
fishing-pole in his hand. He slipped clum-
sily down the rocks, flourishing the pole
and dragging the end of the line attached





THE SOFT' AXNSWER. 35
to it, often being obliged to stop to disen-
tangle it from the rock-weeds. While thus
slipping and jumping towards the water,
in order to throw his line for fish, he care-
lessly struck Sebie's basket with his pole,
and scattered its contents among the peb-
bles and into the deep crevices of the rocks.
" Oh, Lonnie Hurd exclaimed Sebie, in
a tone of distress, "see what you have
done What shall I do ? "
" Well, you shouldn't have put your
basket in my way. I couldn't help it nei-
ther. Of course I wanted to swing my
pole round."
"Do help me pick them up, Lonnie, I
am so tired? "
"Of course I can't," said Lonnie; "I
want to fish."
Sebie's tears gave place to a momentary
flush of anger at this ungenerous conduct;
but remembering her mother's often re-
peated advice,-"Be patient; you won't





36 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
regret it," she mildly replied to the un-
feeling boy, You'll be real sorry, Lonnie."
" I won't neither," said Lonnie, and con-
tinued his fishing.
Sebie had but begun her difficult task of
restoring the shells to the basket, when a
tiny voice exclaimed, "I have found you,
hadn't I, Sebie ? It was little Eddie. With
some hesitation his mother had allowed him
to run along the beach in the direction
from which she expected his sister. He
arrived just in time to restore Sebie to per-
fect cheerfulness. "Oh, you has such pretty
shells!" he exclaimed, climbing over the
rocks, and peeping into her treasures. She
at once set down her basket, and, throwing
her arms around her brother's neck, gave
him a ringing kiss.
Eddie's little hand reached into the nar-
row seams of the rocks and restored many
shells that Sebie could not get.
"There, now," said Eddie, in a tone of





TEs SOFT ANISWrr. 87
triumph, "it's most full again! We can
fill it all full pretty soon, can't we ? "
Though thus cheered, the empty space
in the basket looked very large to the weary
girl. Lonnie had noticed the loving aid of
little Eddie with a feeling of shame; and
when he saw Sebie's weary step as she
moved away to find other deposits of shells,
he entirely forgot his fishing-line. The fish
had stolen his bait, but he did not notice
it. His unfeeling conduct was the result
of an impulse which had given his mother
and himself much sorrow. He did not
mean to be a bad boy, but he did not govern
his feelings when excited. This led Sebie's
remark to be true quite often. He had to
be very sorry for what he did. Laying
down his pole, with the line still in the
water, he followed Sebie. "You are very
tired, Sebie," he said, kindly, as he ap
preached her.
"Yes, I am real tired, Lonnie."





88 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
"I am sorry I treated you so meanly.
I'll fill your basket with the very nicest
shells," said Lonnie, taking the basket from
her hands. "Do you sit down and rest
while I do it."
Sebie did as she was bid, and Lonnie
soon filled her basket.
" I am glad I did not get angry at him,
and call him hard names," said she, as
Lonnie was diligently filling her basket.
"Mother's advice is always best."
When the basket was filled, the three
children walked back to the cove together.
Sebie was happy, because she had been
patient towards Lonnie; and he was happy
because he had generously corrected his
fault.





CHAPTER IV.
A NEW FRIEND.
( EBIE went out each pleasant day,
gathering shells and mosses. Her
' mother spent her leisure moments
in pressing the mosses and arranging
them between the leaves of a book pre-
pared for that purpose. The shells she
neatly fitted upon picture-frames, card-bas-
kets, and other articles of ornament. Se-
bie watched the whole process with much
interest. Little Eddie, too, took great pleas-
ure in these labors of his mother. He
thought no one ever made any thing quite
so beautiful. It was Eddie's opinion that
they would bring a great sum of money.
Sebie was more moderate in her expecta-
89





40 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
tions, but she felt sure they would surprise
the rich visitors, and sell very readily.
It was a fine morning when Sebie, with
a basket on her arm, and dressed in her
neatest manner, went out to make her first
effort in selling their wares. Come back
quick," said Eddie, throwing her a kiss as
she disappeared from sight.
"God bless her," said Mrs. Linn in a low
voice, as she wiped the tear from her face
and turned to work.
"They are very pretty," said the first
lady upon whom Sebie called. "They show
your mother's ingenuity and industry."
Sebie felt much encouraged by this remark.
But her feelings were sadly changed when
the lady remarked, "They are far inferior
to those in our parlor in the city." Sebie
did not see how there could be any nicer
things than her mother made, but she re-
mained silent. After much delay, and many
remarks which wounded Sebic's feelings,





A NEW FRIEND. 41
though not made in any unkindness, the
lady put in the basket the price of one of
the smallest and cheapest books of mosses,
remarking, "There, though it's a very
inferior thing, I'll take that. We must
encourage poor people's industry, I sup-
pose."
Much of the morning had been spent, and
Sebie had made but this one small sale.
She would have turned in discouragement
towards home but for the recollection of
her mother's gentle chiding, so often made,
-" Don't be impatient; all will be well."
After making several unsuccessful calls,
Sebie turned to the beach and placed her
basket upon a large stone and sat down by
the side of it. The tide was coming in, and
as she watched the water gliding further
and further up the smooth sand, at each
succeeding breaker, she almost forgot her
ill success which just before had made her
so sorrowful. The sea-fowls were sporting





42 THE FISHERMAIPS DAUGHTER.
around the shore, and the children on the
rocks were amusing themselves by'throwing
stones at them, without the least danger of
doing the birds any harm. I wish I was
like a sea-bird," thought Sebie, and had
nothing to do but to play. I don't see why
I have to work so all the tinie. I shouldn't
mind working, either: I'd love to work, if
there wasn't so much trouble about it. I
don't see why the rich folks can't buy my
nice things, then my work would be better
than play, because mother would be so
happy."
While these thoughts were passing through
Sebie's mind, a loud and merry shout ar-
rested her attention. A party of young
ladies from one of the boarding-houses
came bounding along the beach. Sebie
rose up and stepped forward to meet them,
and in a respectful tone said, "Buy my
mosses or shell-work, young ladies ? I think
you will call them very pretty."





. NEW F RIEND. 43
The whole company stopped and gathered
about Sebie. "Did you ever see such a
want of taste in your life, Nell ? said one
-of the young ladies, taking up one of the
books of mosses and turning over the leaves
in a very rough manner. What a poor
selection," she continued, and so poorly
pressed! They must have been arranged
by some fisherman on a rainy day, just to
pass away the time."
Nell, the young lady addressed, took the
mosses from her friend's hand and began to
turn over the leaves in a still ruder man-
ner.
"Please, miss," said Sebie, imploringly,
laying her hand at the same time upon the
mosses, "please don't get the mosses out
of place: mother was a long time in get-
ting them arranged and pressed so nicely."
"Nicely! said the young lady, scorn-
fully, tossing the mosses into Sebie's basket,
adding, So your mother did it ? I thought





44 THE FISHERMAS4'S DAUGHTER.
it was your own clumsy work I guess it's
your mother's first attempt."
" This shell-work throws the moss albums
all in the shade, though," said another
young woman, holding up one of the shell
baskets. Didn't your mother," she con-
tinued, turning to Sebie, "put some kind
of glue on the basket first, and set it on the
beach for a trap for the snails ? They must
have crept upon it and been caught just
where they now are."
Sebie could restrain her injured feelings
no longer. She took the shells and mosses
from the hands of the young ladies and
placed them in the basket. Then returning
to her seat by the side of the big rock, she
set her basket upon the sand, and, burying
her face in her hands, burst into tears.
" Oh, the great baby!" exclaimed one
of the young ladies, as the whole company
started off for a further run upon the beach.
"How can I be patient and be treated





A NEW FRIEND. 45
so?" thought Sebie, in her bitterness of feel-
ing. She did not feel like starting again,
and might have remained a long time
desponding, had not a large wave rolled
the advancing waters against her feet and
around the rock upon which she was sit-
ting. She started suddenly, and was sur-
prised to see a young lady standing a few
steps higher up the beach. The latter be-
longed to the company which had caused
Sebie's heaviness of heart. Being slightly
lame she had overtaken the party in time
to hear only the remark which had been
made at their departure, and to see the
signs of Sebie's injured feelings. She knew
the thoughtless manner of her friends, and
readily understood the whole matter. "Did
my friends buy any of your articles ? she
inquired, in a conciliatory tone.
" No indeed," said Sebie. But I should
not have cared for that, if they had not
made sport of them. They pulled them
L





46 THE FISHERSMAIA'S DAUGHTER.
about too and spoiled some of them; and
then called me a great baby, and ran off.
My mother says,' be patient,' but I guess
they would not be patient if they were
treated so."
The young lady thought they certainly
would not. She made no reply, however,
but took Sebie's basket in her hand, walked
up the beach away from the advancing
waters, and sat down on a smooth, clean
rock. She handled carefully every article
in the basket, speaking kind words con-
cerning them. "I will lay out those that
I think ma will be most pleased to have
me purchase," remarked the young lady.
Sebie's wounded feelings were already
healed by the favorable remarks. "This
young lady knows something," she said to
herself; she is a real lady too. I wonder
she could call those others her friends."
This current of thought in Sebie's mind
was disturbed by her surprise as she no-





A NE rW FRIEND. 47
ticed that the young woman had selected
every article that her friends had injured.
She then counted out from a well-filled
purse the full amount of the prices attached
to them.
"Your mother," she remarked, as she
rose to follow her companions, has shown
excellent taste in selecting and arranging
the shells and mosses: I have no doubt she
will do even better after a little practice.
You did well, too, my dear girl, in remem-
bering your mother's counsel. I overtook
my friends just in time to witness their
thoughtless but inexcusable conduct to-
wards you, and to notice that, though
grieved, you did not indulge in any angry
words. I am sure my friends will be very
much ashamed when they think of your
grief, and how it was caused."
While Sebie and her new friend were
thus becoming quite interested in each
other, the rude young ladies were return-





48 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
ing from their run over the beach, and, un-
observed, had already approached quite near.
"See!" said the young lady who had
before been forward to speak, there's the
rich Miss Willard making a friend of that
poor moss-gatherer. I hope she didn't see
us toss her things round."
"That was too bad; I have been ashamed
of my poor wit on the occasion," added
her companion in mischief.
" See, girls, what a fine purchase I have
been making," said Miss Willard, as her
friends approached. "These I feel the
most interest in," she continued, holding
up her purchases so that the injury that
they had received might be noticed by the
company.
" I insist on taking some of them off your
hands, Miss Willard," said the forward Nell,
blushing.
"By no means; they will interest ma
much, I assure you."





A NEW FRIEND. 49
"Then," said Nell, "we must buy the
little merchant out, girls. Come, who buys
this shell basket?-only fifty cents, and
very beautiful."
The proposal was received with a shout,
and Sebie's fancy articles were soon ex-
changed for the money, at a price above
that which was marked.
"Thank you, young ladies, thank you
all," said Sebie, catching up her basket, and
starting for home.
" I told you they'd be glad to buy moth-
er's pretty things," shouted Eddie, in great
glee, as Sebie tossed her empty basket into
the room and held up both hands in token
that she had sold all.
"I know it's best to be patient, dear
mother," said Sebie, throwing her arms
around her mother's neck and kissing her.
4





CHAPTER V.
DISAPPOINTMENT.
ISS LOTTIE WILLARD, whose gen-
fIfi erous conduct had given a favorable
VW turn to Sebie's sales, was in feeble
health. Her widowed mother, who
had come with her to the sea-shore, was
very infirm. She had recently buried her
husband, who had left great wealth; but she
found very little comfort in riches, for one
affliction had followed another very fast. An
only son, who had become master of one of
his father's ships, was lost at sea, just before
his father's death. Bereavements and ill-
health had weaned the mother and daugh-
ter from the pleasures of fashionable society,
without having imparted to them the com-
forts of a good hope in Christ.
60





DISAPPOINTMENT. 51
Soon after Sebie had gone out the next
day, to make an addition to her supply of
shells and mosses, Mrs. Linn heard a gentle
ring of her door-bell. It announced a call
by Mrs. and Miss Willard. Mrs. Willard
introduced herself in a familiar manner.
She came to say that her daughter had
become much interested in the little moss-
gatherer; "and," added Mrs. Willard, "I
have become equally so. I should like to
have her come and live with me while I am
at the sea-shore."
"My daughter is young, and has never
been away from home," replied Mrs. Linn.
" Oh, she will be near, and can run home
often," said Miss Lottie Willard. "Ma
wants some child to take up her mind,
rather than to render her any service. I
am quite interested in your daughter, from
what I saw yesterday, and I think I shall
feel easy to leave ma in her care when I go
out. Ma does not wish either to ride or





52 THE FISHERMAN'S DA UGHTER
walk out often; we shall require no hard
service of Sebie, and shall be liberal in our
pay."
" No harder service than the exercise of
much patience," said the mother, smiling.
" I think dear ma need not insinuate any
ill of herself. As she is not well, she means
that she will desire your daughter, if she
comes to stay with us, to be very particular
in all she does."
Mrs. Linn nodded assent. She thought
she understood the character of her callers,
and readily made an arrangement for Sebie
to go to Mrs. Willard's for a few days on trial.
Scarcely were the ladies out of sight
when Sebie came home, with an unusually
light step. "Mother," she exclaimed, "I
shall like my way of helping you better
than ever! See how lucky I have been this
morning! Such fine shells I never have
found before; and the mosses! I am sure
you will find among them some new kinds."





DISAPPOINTMENT. 53
c And all obtained in so short a time,"
said her mother, still keeping busily em-
ployed about her work.
"I'll tell you how that happened," said
Sebie, with great animation. Burtie Corey,
and Frank Nolan, who is almost always with
Burtie, you know, were taking their morn-
ing walk. Halloo!' said Burtie, as soon
as he saw me,' here's our little moss-gath-
erer. Come, Frank, there's no better exer-
cise than in helping others. Let's fill her
baskets! It will be better than a walk!'
So they both went at it, laughing and talk-
ing so pleasantly all tie time. Oh, they are
so good! My Sunday-school teacher says
she guesses Burtie will make a minister
yet."
" I think Burtie is 'most a minister
now!" exclaimed Eddie, interrupting Sebie.
I han't told you all neither," continued
Sebie, with increasing animation. Burtie
said my mother's fancy articles were liked





54 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
very much, and Miss Anna Harris had seen
some that the girls bought on the beach of
me, and she told her mother that 'they
were elegant.' Now I shall go up to Mrs.
Harris's with my next lot, and I shall sell
some right off, and there'll be no fussing
about them by the Harrises! They are
real ladies, mother."
Thus Sebie continued her talk, more
hopeful of success in her moss and shell-
work than ever before. Mrs. Linn began
to have some doubts concerning the wisdom
of the arrangement she had just made with
the Willards. How could she disappoint
these bright hopes ?--hopes, too, that had
been excited in doing that which her mother
had suggested. But, reasoned Mrs. Linn,
the trial will be only for one week. It may
prove another lesson of patience for the
dear child, which, if well improved, will be
more valuable to her than any success in
her little business.





DISAPPOIVNTMENT. 55
While Mrs. Linn was thinking how she
could most gently. inform Sebie of the
change in her plans, Eddie, in the inno-
cence of childhood, startled Sebie by ex-
claiming, You is going to live with a rich
lady, Sebie, and you an't a-going to gather
moss and shells any more!"
Sebie looked at her mother, and saw the
confirmation of Eddie's declaration in her
serious looks. The sunshine at once left
Sebie's face, and a cloud rested upon her
brow. Rich ladies," said Sebie, "are to
poor girls very hard and unfeeling ladies,
who require very much, and have but few
words to say except those of command."
Her mother explained the engagement,
and closed by saying, Remember how kind
Miss Lottie was to you on the beach."
' Yes, I know," replied Sebie, impa-
tiently; "but it will be quite different when
I am at her room, and am nothing but a ser-
vant-girl; then there's her rich mother, who





56 THE FISHERMA.rS DAUGHTER.
has nothing to do except to fret at those
who wait upon her. I can't go, mother!"
With this impatient exclamation, Sebie gave
way to a violent flood of tears. "All my
nice plans spoiled," she sobbed, and Bur-
tie will be so disappointed if I don't carry
Miss Anna Harris some mosses."
"' Don't cry, 'Sebie," said Eddie, in the
sweet tone of love, as he stooped down to
look up into her half-covered and tearful
face; don't cry, Sebie: I will come and see
you some day; and I can carry the mosses
to Anna Harris myself."
But Sebie refused to be comforted. Mrs.
Linn thought it best not to add any words
by way of counsel while her daughter was
feeling so keenly the disappointment of her
plans. She wisely allowed Sebie a little
time. to rally her own feelings before urging
her requirements still further and decisively
upon her.
Sebie went away to her own room. After





DISAPPOLrTTMENT. 57
a little while shelooked out upon the ocean,
always associated with the memory of him,
the dearly-loved and praying father, who
had found a grave in its deep bosom. '" What
would dear father say?" she thought, as she
wiped away her tears. And don't mother
always know best, and didn't I tell her after
I had such good luck by being patient with
those naughty young ladies that I was so
glad I was patient? I wish I had never
said I can't.'"
While Sebie was in this tender and re-
lenting frame of mind, her little angel com-
forter stole into the room.
"I thinks," said Eddie, looking into his
sister's eyes with an anxious expression to
see if the tears were still there -" I thinks
that lady you is going to live with is weal
kind."
Why, Eddie, what makes you think
so ? said Sebie, patting him on the face.
" Cause she kissed Eddie, she did; and





58 THE FISHERIANwS DA UGHTER.
she cried too when she kissed Eddie, and she
said she had a little boy once just like me."
Light began to break in upon Sebie's
mind. "What a foolish girl I am," she said
again to herself, not to let mother plan."
"When do you wish me to go to Mrs.
Willard's, mother ?" inquired Sebie, as she
returned to the sitting-room, with a cheerful
air. Her mother looked pleasantly upon
her altered countenance, but simply replied,
"I have arranged for you to go to-morrow."
"I shall be all ready, mother," replied
Sebie.





CHAPTER VI.
TRYING TO PLEASE.
C EBIE found Mrs. Willard and Lottie
occupying one of the most elegant
1 rooms of the Ocean House. It af-
forded a delightful view of the ocean
and the inland country. She stood for a
moment absorbed by the attractions of her
situation. Lottie gently removed her bon-
net and shawl, directing her where to put
them; and then pointing to a chair near
her mother, bade her sit down.
" You will wait upon mother, Sebie,"
said Lottie, c while I take my morning
ride. She does not feel like going out this
morning, and you must take good care of
her."
"Yes, Miss Lottie," said Sebie, think-
69





60 THE FISHEsMAN'S DAUGHTER.
ing there could be but little to do, where
there were so many comforts close at hand.
Raise the window a little higher, dear,
it is so close here," said Mrs. Willard to
Sebie. "Dear Lottie was thoughtless to
shut out the beautiful air from me. There,
Sebie, that will do; but step softly, child: I
can not bear a noise." Mrs. Willard re-
mained quiet for a few moments, then turn-
ing to Sebie with an imploring look, she
said, Call Jane, immediately."
Thinking Mrs. Willard was seriously ill,
Sebie hurried from the room with the mes-
sage to Jane the servant-girl.
" Oh, Jane," said Sebie, out of breath, as
she reached the kitchen; do come quick!
I think Mrs. Willard is very ill."
Jane received the announcement very
coolly. She seemed in no haste, but walked
moderately to her mistress's room.
" Jane," said Mrs. Willard, I wish you
to adjust the window so as to give me the





TRYING TO PLEASE. 61
proper degree of air. The cold east wind
is blowing from the ocean directly into the
room; I should get my death cold, I do be-
lieve, in a few moments. The child opened
it at my request, but she set it up too high;
she was not to blame: she did the best she
knew."
Jane placed the window precisely where
Miss Lottie had left it. She then inquired.
if there was any other command..
None," said Mrs. Willard; return to
the kitchen, and wait my orders."
I shall not be alarmed so easily again,"
thought Sebie, as she sat down near Mrs.
Willard. After sitting for an hour quite
still, Sebie began to be uneasy. She had
always been very active. It seemed tedious
to have nothing to do, and to see nothing
going on. She took up a book full of beau-
tiful engravings which lay upon the table,
and began to turn over the leaves. Mrs.
Willard started up from a seeming quiet





62 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
repose, and said, with an expression of pain
upon her countenance: "Lay the book
down, child; you have quite disturbed my
nerves."
Sebie laid the book down, and looked
hurt. She was about to say, "I did not
mean to disturb you," when Mrs. Willard
perceiving her feelings, said kindly, "you
will learn my ways by-and-by, my dear.
You must be patient; it is quite likely that
I shall chide you often. But you will learn
something every day; now send Jane here,
and you may go upon the piazza on the
ocean side of the house until called. Mind
and be just there when you are wanted.
Sebie would have much preferred a run
upon the beach, but did as she was directed,
and remained on the piazza. Some sailing-
vessels were coming round the point into
the Cove, and she became interested in
watching them, when Jane called, in a
quick and sharp tone of voice, saying that





TR YINO TO PLEASE. 63
Mrs. Willard needed her immediately. She
ran up stairs in haste.
"Keep the flies from me, dear," said
Mrs. Willard, while Jane finishes my toi-
let. They are so troublesome here."
Sebie sat down by her mistress, with a
large feather fan, while Jane attended to
her duties.
Sebie's pity was always much excited for.
Mrs. Willard at the severe task to which
she submitted in being dressed to receive
her friends, or to take a short ride. She
had never seen her mother, when toiling
the most diligently, seem to be so much
burdened as did. Mrs. Willard with these
daily preparations to enjoy life.
When all was done, she walked, with
Jane's assistance,'.to her private sitting-
room. Having seen her seated in a richly-
cushioned chair, Jane returned to her du-
ties in the sleeping-room.
"Run, Sebie," said Mrs. Willard, and





64 THE FISHERMAN'S DA UGHTER.
see if the morning paper has been brought
from the office." Sebie soon returned with
the paper, which Mrs. Willard commenced
reading.
" Can not you find, dear, about the room,
a higher foot-stool than this ? she said, in
a moment or two; strange that Jane
should be so unmindful of my comfort as
to set for me this very low one."
Sebie readily found the article that ap-
peared to give satisfaction. Scarcely was
this done, when Mrs. Willard said, in a
quick, hurried tone, which indicated dis-
tress, "Call Jane, child, immediately."
This time Sebie was inot so much alarmed
about her mistress. She however informed
Jane that her presence was desired instantly
in the sitting-room. Jane answered the call
as a matter of course, seeming to be neither
hurried nor impatient.
" Adjust these curtains, Jane, so as to
give me the proper light. I have not been
able to read, for the blinding glare."





TRYING TO PLEASE. 65
Jane dropped all the curtains except the
one at the window behind Mrs. Willard's
chair. This done her mistress proceeded
with her reading. Having read a few lines,
she laid the paper down, saying, as she
returned her spectacles to their case, and
tlirew her head back upon the soft cushion
which had been arranged to support it,
"Can you read to me, Sebie? I am so
weary."
Sebie took up the paper and began to
read. Her voice was at first tremulous,
for she feared she might not please Mrs.
Willard. She had been placed at the head
of her reading-class at school, before the
death of her father, and since that time had
read much to her mother while she was
busy with her family work. So she soon
recovered her confidence, and read with
much freedom.
That will do, dear; your voice is so
loud and harsh it makes my head ache.
5_





66 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
Strange that children now-a-days all have
just such harsh and penetrating voices.
They are enough to break one's ears."
Sebie had receded so many admonitions
from her mother when reading to her to
" speak up loud and distinctly," that it had
not- occurred to her that she could be pain-
fully loud in her reading. She laid the
paper down, grieved at her failure to
please.
" I hope you have been very comfortable
and happy, dear ma, during my ride," said
Miss Lottie, stepping softly into the room.
" Tolerably," replied Mrs. Willard, "con-
sidering that I have had but little attention.
I did not like to call often upon the child,
she is so little used yet to my ways; and
Jane seems to consider my wants of little
consequence.
"I will reprove Jane," said Lottie. "She
has no other business but to attend to your
wants. But how closely you are curtained





TRYING TO PLEASE. 67
up, ma! You can hardly know how beau-
tiful nature is this morning."
"I know it," replied Mrs. Willard ;" Jane
has made the room as gloomy as night. I
have scarcely looked out to-day;" forgetting
in her unhappy feelings that she had re-
quested the curtains to be put down.
I I left the curtains, ma, just right, the
last' thing before I left, arranging them
just as I knew you preferred them," said
Lottie.
" I know, dear; you are very tender and
tthougltful ; but servant-girls are not. Yet
-Jane means to do right. I do not blame
her."
Dinner was served to Mrs. Willard in her
own room. She was accustomed to have,
from time to time, every luxury that the
market afforded; not because she ate freely,
but because it was difficult to find any thing
that she could eat with pleasure. After
dinner she lay for an hour upon the lounge,





68 THE FISHERMAN4S DAUGHTER.
during which time the kind Lottie took
Sebie's place at her mother's side. Sebie
was required, however, not to be further off
than the hall from which the room opened;
Jane was also within an easy call. During
this hour of resting, Sebie was called five
times; and Jane three, to assist Lottie in
making her mother comfortable. When the
intense heat of the day was past, Mrs. Wil-
lard ventured to take a short walk along the
seashore, accompanied by her daughter and
Sebie. She did not often ride. She could
not trust, without fear, either the driver or
his horses. Sebie, anxious to please, ran to
the top of the beach and selected a few of
the small, sea-polished pebbles, of various
colors, and brought them to Mrs. Willard.
As she passed a rocky crevice, she obtained
a handful of whitened shells, which she ex-
hibited with much animation. Dear me,
Lottie, how the child confuses my head with
her constant prattle. She must desist, or I





TRYING TO PLEASE. 69
must return home instantly," said Mrs.
Willard, with nervous emphasis.
Lottie gently cautioned Sebie, and she
walked in silent grief until the return home.
She's an old mistress fuss," was the ex-
clamation which had partly escaped from
Sebie's lips, when she suddenly checked her-
self. "Be patient: you won't regret it,"
was an admonition she could not forget.
Its excellence she had tested too often to
wish to disregard it.
The walk being finished, Sebie was ex-
cused from further service until an early
hour of retiring. She ran home, with a feel-
ing of relief.
' Is the lady good and kind, like our
mother, Sebie ?" inquired Eddie, as Sebie
opened the door.
" Oh dear, mother, I am so tired "she ex-
claimed, without noticing Eddie's question.
' Has it been a busy day at Mrs. Willard's,
my daughter?"





70 THE FISHERMAN'S DA UGHTER.
"A fussy day, mother! I thought all
rich people were happy."
"That was a very foolish thought, my
child."
"But I can't stay at Mrs. Willard's,
mother. I shall get real mad sometime."
" That will be wicked for a child to be
angry with an old, infirm lady," replied
.Mrs. Linn, with serious emphasis. "Is she
not kind ?"
"Oh, very; but she is so fussy, I don't
want to go back. Please let me gather
shells and mosses."
" You had better drop that word which
you apply to Mrs. Willard. Remember she
is borne down with age and many bereave-
ments. Her service will be a good school
for your temper. I am sure she will not
be harsh and unreasonable. Her frequent
demands are prompted by great weakness
of the nerves. Go back, my daughter, and
be patient. You won't regret it."





TR YING TO PLEASE. 71
Sebie did so, fortifying her resolution by
frequently repeating her mother's admoni-
tion. At the end of a month Miss Lottie
sent the following note to Mrs. Linn, accom-
panied by twenty dollars:
MY DEAR MRS. LINN:
Sebie has been a darling girl and a great com-
fort to mother. We think her services worth the
inclosed.
LOTTIE.
" I am sorry I called Mrs. Willard fussy,"
said Sebie, wiping her eyes.





CHAPTER VII.
TOO CONFIDENT.
' AM sorry Miss Lottie's cousin came to
stay with Mrs. Willard," said Sebie.
V. Why ? said her mother.
' "Because I have conquered my im-
patience perfectly, and I could bear any-
thing from Mrs. Willard."
"Perhaps," suggested her mother, Mrs.
Willard's very kind spirit, which always
attends her great nervous uneasiness, may
deserve some of the credit of your patience.
It is easier to be patient with the rich who
can reward. us, than with the poor from
whom we expect nothing."
"Well, mother, I should think four weeks
of good temper prove, under so many vex-
ations, that I shall not be angry again," re-
72





TOQ CONFIDENT. 73
Sied Sebie, somewhat hurt at the implied
doubt of her steadfastness contained in her
mother's remark..
We shall see'" said Mrs. Linn, in a tone
that was very serious. My daughter should
pray much, and past little."
The manner in which her mother spoke
told Sebie that she meant more than she
expressed. But the impression soon wore
off, and the remark was forgotten. She
went t the next moni n upon the beach for
shells and mosses. Burtie Corey and Frank
Nolan were there: before her. This time
they did not, do more than greet her cor-
dially with a' good-morning.' They seemed
much interested in a very plainly-clad girl,
a little younger than Sebie, whom she had
once or twice seen sitting alone upon some
of the bowlders, or walking with apparent
pain along the beach. Sebie thought there
was something very unpleasant in this
young girl's Countenance. She had im-





74 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
agined, too, that the girl had used her quite
ill. Once when Sebie had left a few hand-
fuls of shells on a smooth rock, she had sat
down upon them and broken many and
brushed the rest upon the sand. Burtie
and Frank called her Susie, and seemed to
take great pleasure in striving to amuse her.
They selected pebbles and shells for her,
and, at one time, after taking off their shoes
and stockings, they made an arm-chair"
with their clasped hands, and carried Susie
into the expanded waves as they glided up
the smooth sand. The countenance of Susie
lost its customary sadness, and she laughed
heartily. Her two friends were full as happy,
- laughing and shouting as they splashed
the water in every direction. They then
carried her to a pleasant seat upon the top
of the beach, and ran away to their daily toil.
When Sebie had completed her morning
task she approached Susie, who still sat
where her friends had left her.





r
A-3 ^" "^ ^<
THE ARM-CIIAIR.





I





TOO CONFIDENT. 75
"Did you get tired playing with Burtie
and Frank? inquired Sebie, wishing to
make some talk with Susie.
"No," was the brief reply.
"You seem to be lame," continued Se-
bie; "can I aid you in returning home ?"
"I'll go without your help when I want
to," replied Susie, without turning her eye
from her listless gaze out to sea. Sebie was
about to make a short and angry reply, but,
remembering the serious caution of her
mother, she turned away without speaking.
She was, however, irritated, and indulged
in silent murmurings as she walked along
the beach. "I guess she will be glad to
have my help when I offer again. She
would like to have the young men carry her
about, I suppose; but never a word shall she
get out of me again. I wonder what Burtie
and Frank can see in the cross thing to
make them want to take notice of her. It's
just like them, though. They wouldn't go





76 THIE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
to Lottie Willard's oftener than once a
month, if she should invite them ever so
much; but if there's a poor, cross thing like
Susie, they can't do too much for her."
So absorbed was Sebie in these complain-
ing and fretful thoughts that she was
startled when John Neal called to her, in his
rough but kind tone: '; Halloo there, Sebie
dreaming, hey, of the pile of gold you're
to make from your shells and mosses-
'There's many a slip between the cup and
the lip,' you must remember. But did you
see any thing of our little friend Susie Bent,
around the point ?"
' Yes, sir', said Sebie ; "I left her in a
brown study, sitting. near Emma Means'
dining-cove,"
."Poor thing," said Neal; "she must be
very weary, and want help in getting home."
"I offered to help her, sir, but slie did
nothing but snarl at me and say she wouldn't
have my help," said Sebie, with much spirit ,





TOO CONFIDENT. 77
"Wrong temper, that," said Neal, spring-
ing into his empty market wagon, which
had just returned from its morning round.
"Jump up here, Sebie, and we will take a
drive around the point, and then up to the
Widow Linn's. I guess you will get there
full as easy as you would to walk, and
about as quick."
Sebie did not wait for further prompting,
but was soon dashing along the ocean's
sandy floor towards the unhappy Susie.
The latter remained where Sebie had left
her, and was still looking upon the far-ex-
tending sea.
"We must startle her out of the dumps,"
said Neal, with the roguish twinkle of the
eye of a boy of sixteen, at the same time
giving his lively little horse a gentle cut,
and turning his head towards the water.
It was a warm day, and the horse enjoyed
the fun as much as the riders, as he made
the wagon spin through the shoal water,





78 THE FrSHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
splashing it finely. In this style Neal drove
towards Susie, and, on getting abreast of
her, turned liis horse's head quickly, and
brought up at her side. Susie burst into
an immoderate laugh, pointing at the same
time at the good sprinkling which Neal and
Sebie had both received. Taking the ad-
vantage of Susie's merry mood, Neal sprang
from the wagon, and, catching her in his
arms, placed her upon the seat with Sebie,
exclaiming, Laughing at John Neal's wet
coat, hey! We'll see how you will like a
splashing yourself." Neal seized the reins,
and giving his horse the word, he started
off at a lively pace. Having rounded the
point, he turned to the water again.
"I declare," said "Old Brown," who
had just taken his fourth morning glass of
poor whiskey at the saloon; "I declare
for't, now, friend Nolan, if I don't believe
John Neal's been tipping a glass this morn-
ing. Just see him drive! and through the





TOO CONFIDENrT. 79
water too That's the old Neal at his old
tricks, or my name an't Brown. I've told
you John couldn't stand it always without
something warming to support nature."
"Not so fast, friend Brown," said Mr.
Nolan, Neal's partner in business. "Don't
comfort yourself that John Neal will ever
sail again the same voyage in life with you,
unless you tack ship and trim your canvas
for a different port. Neal's at his old busi-
ness, to be sure,-the business of making
others happy. That poor girl that's on
the seat with the Widow Linn's datlghter
hasn't smiled since she lost all that was
dear to her on earth, except when John
Neal or some of the young friends whom he
prompts gets a little sunshine on her brow.
I tell you, friend Brown, that fun of John
Neal's has a meaning to it; it's to raise a
gentle breeze to fill the sails of a poor young
craft that's rolling in a heavy sea."
While this conversation was going on,





80 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER.
Mr. Neal had dashed by, turned off from
the beach, and was driving towards the
humble house of Mrs. Bent. Susie had
subsided into her sullen mood. She ut-
tered only a cold "thank you," as Mr. Neal
lifted her from the wagon.
A" What an unthankful, sullen little thing
she is!" said Sebie, as Neal drove towards
her own happier home.
"Be still, girl," said Neal, in a sharper,
more serious tone than he had used during
the ride. Sebie said no more, but was care-
ful td render her own thanks to Mr. Neal,
as lie left her at her mother's door, in the
most cordial manner. Neal seemed lost in
thought, and drove away, simply saying,
" You are welcome, girl."





CHAPTER VIII.
SUSIE BENT.
9[(?HAT a funny good man Mr. Neal
d is!" said Sebie, as soon as she could
get her moss and shells safely put
out of the reach of Eddie's curious
meddling. He gave us such a good ride!
But I do believe, mother, that if there is
any body too mean to be loved and too low
for others to take notice of, Mr. Neal will
do them a favor first! "
"I trust," said Mrs. Linn, looking up
with a glow of satisfaction in her face,
"that Mr. Neal, with all his rough manners,
is a genuine disciple of Christ. He came
forward last Sabbath and united with the
church, after many months of cautious
6 81





82 THE FISHERMAY'S DAUGHTER.
waiting. But what despised one has he
been helping now ?"
" Why that ugly little Sue Bent, who has
just moved from the city! She can't speak
to any one decently. I offered to help her
walk home, but she only muttered that*
she'd help herself when she wanted to go
home. I guess when I offer again to help
her she will be glad to have me. But Bur-
tie Corey and Frank Nolan could hardly
speak to me, they had so much to say to the
hateful girl; and John Neal frolicked like a
boy to please her, driving into the water
and making it fly like the spray in a storm.
He didn't get many thanks for it, though,
for she looked real sullen when he left her
at her own door. I felt-"
Mrs. Linn's reproving look checked Se-
bie's talk as she was about to utter an
exclamation of dislike to Susie.
"You felt very much out of temper at
poor Susie," said her mother.





SUSIE BENT. 83
"I am sure I want mad," said Sebie,
recollecting the boastful feelings with which
she left Lottie Willard.
"Not angry, but out of patience with a
poor girl whose sorrows and bodily suffer-
ings you can not understand."
"Do you know Susie, mother?" said
Sebie, with some surprise.
" Wait, my daughter," said her mother,
"until this evening, and when I sit down
to my shell-work we will talk more about
this matter."
Sebie, during the afternoon, had time for
more serious thought concerning her new
acquaintance. Her mother's remark about
" sorrows and bodily sufferings made
her recollect that when Mr. Neal lifted Su-
sie in and out of the wagon she bit her lips
and contracted her brow, though the kind
man did it very gently. Sebie thought at
the time it was a part of Susie's ugly ways;
but now she thought it might have been





84 THE FISHERMAY'S DAUGHTER.
pain. Then Sebie repeated the word "sor-
rows." What sorrows, she thought, can
Susie have had. She began to consider
more seriously her hard judgment concern-
ing Susie, and felt that the day's experience
had left but poor grounds of boasting con-
cerriing her patience. With these thoughts
Sebie took her seat near her mother in the
evening. Little Eddie was sleeping sweetly
in the bedroom near, and the widow's cot-
tage had an air of goodness, favorable to
right impressions. "Mrs. Corey has sev-
eral times spoken to me of Mrs, Bent," said
Mrs. Linn; and this morning she and
Mrs. Nolan came to talk more about her.
Mrs. Corey has just met a friend now visit-
ing at the Cove, who has known Mrs. Bent's
whole history. From him she learned that
she had, a few years ago, a delightful home
in the city. Her husband, an industrious
mechanic, owned the house in which they
lived. Her two sons,- young men just en-





SUSIE BENT. 85
tering upon manhood, were pious, and lov-
ingly devoted to their parents. Little Sue,'
the pet of the family, was as joyful as a
spring bird, and full of love for every one.
Mr. Bent, after a lingering sickness, which
greatly reduced their property, died. The
two sons remained at home, supporting the
family, and kissing away the tears from
little Susie's face when she wept for her
dear papa. But a year ago last Fourth of
July, the brothers went in a pleasure-boat
down the bay for a few hours' sail; and
when the boat was off Light-house Island,
within sight of our own Cove, a sudden
gust of wind upset it, and they were both
drowned. Still, after the shock of this
great bereavement, Mrs. Bent toiled on in-
dustriously, and for some months obtained
a comfortable living by the labor of her
hands. Soon, however, Susie, who had
been the light of her dwelling and her only
* remaining earthly joy, began to lose her





86 THE FISHERMANIS DAUGHTER.
lively step and sunny countenance. She
became irritable when crossed, and would:
often stop in the midst of her plays and
utter a sharp cry, complaining that her
back was breaking. Physicians were con-
sulted, who agreed that her spine was dis-
eased. She soon required a great deal of
attention from her mother, which, with her
daily labor for a living, broke her own health.
Thinking that a change of air and scenery
might benefit both the mother and daugh-
ter, their physician advised them to come
here. Mrs. Bent hoped to support her
family by labor of some kind for the vis-
itors; but the fatigue of moving has utterly
forbidden it."
Mrs. Linn paused a moment, lifted her
eyes from her work to Sebie, whose eyes
were moistened at the recital, and said,
"So you see, my daughter, Mrs. Bent and
Susie are here by no fault of theirs. But
God is raising her up friends among those





S SUSIE BENT. 87
who have not been strangers to sorrow and
poverty. John Neal has taken hold of her
case in his usual whole-hearted way. He
says that Susie loves to sit on the beach
and see the waves beat against Light-house
Island, near which, as she has learned, her
dear brothers lie buried in their deep sea
grave. 'When I see her thus gazing, with
a look so friendless and full of pain,' says
the kind-hearted man, 'my heart leaps
up to my mouth. I can't stand it.' It is
too late in the season to interest the rich
strangers who are here in Mrs. Bent's case.
They will soon leave for the city. But we
who are at home here, and have a little
more than a supply for our daily wants, arl '"~
determined to share it with Mrs. Bent anl
Susie, and to make her comfortable. I can
at least, if necessary, expend for her that
twenty dollars which came so unexpectedly
from Mrs. Willard."
"That'sjust like you, mother!" exclaimed





68 THE FISHERMAN'$S DAUGHTER.
Sebie, her tears suddenly disappearing at
the mention in such a connection of the
money in which she had taken so much
pride, and from which she had promised
herself many fine things. "You always,
mother," she continued, "want to make
somebody else happy by your extra good
luck."
"Yes, that is what I ought to do," said
her mother. "I think God sends such
extraordinary blessings as prompters to
special benevolence. I know that he has
said, 'Give, and it shall be given to you
again.' I never feel so sure that God will
take care of my family as when I am trying
to lighten the burdens of others."
"I will try to help Susie to be happy,"
said Sebie, thoughtfully. "I see that I
have indulged in a scolding and fretful
spirit towards her all day. I didn't think
impatience would come upon me in that
way. I never shall be as good as you,
mother. How can I always be patient ?"





Full Text

PAGE 1

116 THE FISUERMANI, S DAUGHTER. this often, and her heart now glowed with gratitude to God. Her faith grasped at once the answer to her many prayers-in the conversion of this member of her class. "Please read for me, Miss Emma, the fourteenth and fifteenth verses of the third chapter of John's Gospel," said Miss Harris, turning to the scholar at the head of the class. Emma opened her Testament at the place named, and read, "And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up; that whosoever believetl in him should not perish, but have eternal life." She illustrated the great truth here taught by dwelling upon the story of the bitten Israelites, to which Christ referred, contained in the twenty-first chapter of Numbers. She related to them severalvery touching incidents, given by missionaries, showing that this story of the fiery serpent had led to Christ many heathen inquirers.



PAGE 1

The Baldwin Library /^l /^t\ University of i 9 mBFni~nr~toFl orid a



PAGE 1

14 THE FISHERMAI'S DAUGHTER. church spires could all be counted from her piazza. Her furniture, though not elegant, was neat and in good order. She was quite sure she could provide satisfactorily for the table, for in other years she had served in the families of the rich, and knew their style of living. She knew the labor would be hard, but this she was willing to endure. Sebie could be of some service, and the profits, she hoped, would aid in sending her to school later in the season. Soon after the preparations were com1l..:-l, a married lady, whose name was Evans, and her sister, 3I;-: Pond, came to the cottage to board. These ladies were persons of great consequence in their own eyes. They talked much of their riches, which was an evidence, Mrs. Linn feared, that they were not rich at all, Mrs. Linn had agreed that Sebie should render them any little service she might be able to do,



PAGE 1

138 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. suffering daughter. She threw up the window with her own hand, to admit fresh air. The surgeon soon arrived, and decided that no bones were either broken or put out of place, but that the cords of the ankle had received a severe strain. He ordered entire quiet, and forbade the slightest use of the foot. The accident had not seemed much to Lottie. In attempting to leave the carriage for a short walk upon the beach, she made a misstep, and fell between the carriagewheels. She endeavored to walk, but a sharp pain brought her to a pause; she made an effort to regain the carriage, and fainted. There was much delay in getting assistance, and in conveying her to a private residence which was near. Lottie insisted upon bearing the tidings herself of the slight occurrence," as she called it, to her mother. Having made so much exertion



PAGE 1

60 THE FISHEsMAN'S DAUGHTER. ing there could be but little to do, where there were so many comforts close at hand. Raise the window a little higher, dear, it is so close here," said Mrs. Willard to Sebie. "Dear Lottie was thoughtless to shut out the beautiful air from me. There, Sebie, that will do; but step softly, child: I can not bear a noise." Mrs. Willard remained quiet for a few moments, then turning to Sebie with an imploring look, she said, Call Jane, immediately." Thinking Mrs. Willard was seriously ill, Sebie hurried from the room with the message to Jane the servant-girl. Oh, Jane," said Sebie, out of breath, as she reached the kitchen; do come quick! I think Mrs. Willard is very ill." Jane received the announcement very coolly. She seemed in no haste, but walked moderately to her mistress's room. Jane," said Mrs. Willard, I wish you to adjust the window so as to give me the



PAGE 1

#1< TH} WrID~rflX COTIlbE



PAGE 1

56 THE FISHERMA.rS DAUGHTER. has nothing to do except to fret at those who wait upon her. I can't go, mother!" With this impatient exclamation, Sebie gave way to a violent flood of tears. "All my nice plans spoiled," she sobbed, and Burtie will be so disappointed if I don't carry Miss Anna Harris some mosses." "' Don't cry, 'Sebie," said Eddie, in the sweet tone of love, as he stooped down to look up into her half-covered and tearful face; don't cry, Sebie: I will come and see you some day; and I can carry the mosses to Anna Harris myself." But Sebie refused to be comforted. Mrs. Linn thought it best not to add any words by way of counsel while her daughter was feeling so keenly the disappointment of her plans. She wisely allowed Sebie a little time. to rally her own feelings before urging her requirements still further and decisively upon her. Sebie went away to her own room. After



PAGE 1

t22 THE FISHERIMAN'S DAUGHTER. Sebie's self-distrust was increased, and she shrunk from contact with the scholars. Another source of annoyance to Sebie was the low place she occupied in her studies. She had lost much time from school. Besides, the teaching at the Cove had not been as thorough, nor the textbook as good, as in the city. For these reasons the city girls of her own age were much in advance of her. Some thoughtless ones reproached her with this. The teacher, burdened with a great amount of labor, and having a large number of scholars to look after, did not make the allowance for Sebie that the circumstances required. One day she failed in her class, with many others. In this low class, Sebie, and blundering at that!" said the teacher, sharply. The word deeply wounded, but there was no flash of angry feeling. I'll convince him," said Sebie to her-



PAGE 1

12 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. one prominent fault,-she was impatient under disappointment and contradiction. When her little brother Eddie interfered with her plays, or injured her playthings, her generally pleasant face was clouded with anger, and resentment flashed out from her otherwise pretty blue eyes. It sometimes happened that Sebie was engaged with her dolls at the very moment when her mother called her to do some little service. She would on such occasions be very irritable; perhaps brush her well-arranged playthings into a confused pile, in her vexation at being disturbed. It was a great fault. Her parents had corrected her often, reasoned with her much, and prayed for her continually. Sebie made many resolutions to do better, with what success we shall learn. Little Eddie, her brother, like all little boys, frequently did wrong things, through ignorance of what was proper; yet he was very affectionate, never intending to make his sister angry.



PAGE 1

PLANNI7NG AND TRYIING. 15 by running of errands, or conveying their wishes from their room to her mother. Sebie thought this would be pleasant, because the ladies would be very kind. In order to be at their service, she was directed to remain in the hall, or upon the piazza, when not specially employed. "Take these letters to the mail, girl," said Miss Pond, one morning, in a sharp tone. Sebie took 1i.. nm, but felt hurt to be reproved, when she came back, because she had not returned sooner. "Now take this note to the Beach House for room No. 15; and don't mope all the way. I want you to do another errand." Sebie, vexed at the unladylike tone and manner of Miss Pond, jerked the note out of her hand, and hastily left the room. What a disagreeable child she is!" said Miss Pond. "I'll report her to her mother. I'll keep her running, too, until she will be glad to be pleasant about it for the sake of a little rest."



PAGE 1

44 THE FISHERMAS4'S DAUGHTER. it was your own clumsy work I guess it's your mother's first attempt." This shell-work throws the moss albums all in the shade, though," said another young woman, holding up one of the shell baskets. Didn't your mother," she continued, turning to Sebie, "put some kind of glue on the basket first, and set it on the beach for a trap for the snails ? They must have crept upon it and been caught just where they now are." Sebie could restrain her injured feelings no longer. She took the shells and mosses from the hands of the young ladies and placed them in the basket. Then returning to her seat by the side of the big rock, she set her basket upon the sand, and, burying her face in her hands, burst into tears. Oh, the great baby!" exclaimed one of the young ladies, as the whole company started off for a further run upon the beach. "How can I be patient and be treated



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SURPRISES. 1387 show ma that I have met with only a trifling accident." In this generous attempt to allay the fears of her mother, Lottie disengaged the supporting hand of her friends and took a few steps alone. But the effort was too much. She fainted, and fell senseless upon the floor at the feet of her mother. "Lottie, Lottie oh, Lottie! what shall I do ? cried Mrs. Willard, in great agony. She is only faint, ma'am," said the men, taking her up in their strong arms and laying her gently upon the bed. Lottie opened her eyes, gazing around for a moment with a bewildered look. Catching her mother's anxious eye, as she bent over her, she threw her arms about her neck, whispering, Only a little sprain, mother; I shall soon be all right." Stimulated by the excitement, Mrs. Willard had left her cushioned and bolstered chair, and was foremost in waiting upon the



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THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. CHAPTER I. THE "FLYING CLOUD." HAT a long storm this has been, mother!" said Sebie Linn, as she stood at the door of her mother's cottage, and looked out upon the sea. "Yes, my child," replied her mother, without lifting her eyes from the dress she was attempting to mend. Mrs. Linn did not dare to look up lest her' daughter should see the tears which flowed fast upon her work. It had indeed seemed to her like a very long storm. The boat which contained her husband had been due for nearly a week. Much anxiety was felt for its safety at the



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THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER; on, SEBIE'S LESSONS, AND THE WAY SHE LEARNED THEM. B OSTON: THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY; INSTITUTED 1814. DEPOSITORIES, 28 CORNHILL, BOSTON; AND 13 BIBLE-HOUSE, ASTOR PLACE, NEW YORK.



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BEGILrNLVGa ANEW. 117 "Now," said Miss Harris, with much feeling, "!if the poor heathen inquirer can understand what this beautiful illustration means, why can not my class ? and if the former is willing to accept Christ as a remedy for a sinful heart, why will not you, dear children ?" "Iwill," said Sebie, silently, but in the language of the heart which God heard, while the tears of humble submission to her Saviour filled her eyes. Belle Harris had been especially interested in the Widow Linn's family from the commencement of her widowhood. But now that Sebie had sought to be a Christian, her interest was much increased. She watched the growth of her religious life with unceasing care. She was not like the hireling shepherd who forgets the lamb soon after it is born. She watched over and encouraged Sebie's new life until the time arrived for the family to remove to



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SURPRISES. 141 "And to me too," said Sebie. "I am glad I remembered mother's advice to be patient." A few weeks after Mrs. Willard's return to the city, Mr. Harris came into Mrs. Linn's with a little package of papers in his hands. He laid them upon her work-table, saying, "I'm in quite a hurry. You can read at your leisure." Mrs. Linn on opening them found the note and mortgage-deed of the debt upon her cottage home which had so troubled her. All was paid. The house was all her own. Who could have been so kind ? In manifesting her surprise, she caused a little note to drop upon the floor, which she had not before noticed. It's from my dear Miss Lottie!" exclaimed Sebie, knowing the neat handwriting. "And to me too! how kind and thoughtful I" Sebie read it aloud, with a tremulous voice.



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THE "FL YI2G CLOUD." 11 Want to be poor! The people don't love poor folks." Hush, child !" said her mother, turning away to conceal her own emotion. "God loves the poor. He never forgets them. We must try to help ourselves, and God will raise us up friends. Your father would not have left us so poor if he had not often been sick. But he was, as every person believes who knew him, a real Christian. You do not know, my child, how much he has prayed for you, and your little brother; and I am sure God will not forsake the children of those who love him." Sebie had always been in delicate health, and her parents had watched over her with great tenderness, yet not with a blind devotion. They mingled religious instruction and Christian discipline with their expressions of affection. Sebie rewarded their care with a sincere love. She desired to obey and please her parents; but she-had



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24 THME FISHERMAN'S DBAUGTER. robe-hook a dress that she had hung there just before. retiring, and the lost handkerchief dropped from the dress upon the floor. She had thrown it upon the dress which lay over the back of a chair, instead of laying it upon the toilet-stand as she supposed. As the dress was taken up by the loops, the handkerchief slipped within it and caught in its folds. The facts were clear at once. What fools we have made of ourselves!" exclaimed Miss Pond. "We must make some amends to the girl," said Mrs. Evans, in a moment of regretful feeling. Amends!" echoed Miss Pond. "Go down upon my knees to the impertinent thing, I suppose! No, I'll leave the house, and say we never found it. I'll make no acknowledgments to poor folks *" That would be truly mean and low; besides, you know your desire to make a



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TR YINO TO PLEASE. 63 Mrs. Willard needed her immediately. She ran up stairs in haste. "Keep the flies from me, dear," said Mrs. Willard, while Jane finishes my toilet. They are so troublesome here." Sebie sat down by her mistress, with a large feather fan, while Jane attended to her duties. Sebie's pity was always much excited for. Mrs. Willard at the severe task to which she submitted in being dressed to receive her friends, or to take a short ride. She had never seen her mother, when toiling the most diligently, seem to be so much burdened as did. Mrs. Willard with these daily preparations to enjoy life. When all was done, she walked, with Jane's assistance,'.to her private sittingroom. Having seen her seated in a richlycushioned chair, Jane returned to her duties in the sleeping-room. "Run, Sebie," said Mrs. Willard, and



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1.6 THE FISHERMANYS DAUGHTER. True to her purpose, Miss Pond required a very hard service of her little attendant. She also made complaint to her mother of her impatient spirit. "Well," said Sebie, in defense of her conduct, "Miss Pond is real provoking, mother. She an't a lady, as Miss Belle Harris is. She is never pleased; and she never has waiting upon enough. When I do my best, she does nothing but scold. I shan't try to please her." "Hush, my child!" said Mrs. Linn. Resentment never corrects a wrong. Your angry expressions help to make Miss Pond feel that she does right to bring against you severe accusations." She has no right to vex me, though," said Sebie, beginning to cry. "Certainly not," replied her mother. "Nor think I must wait upon her all the time, and then receive only a scolding." "And that would be wrong too," said Mrs. Linn; "but I wish you to learn the



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CHAPTER IV. A NEW FRIEND. ( EBIE went out each pleasant day, gathering shells and mosses. Her mother spent her leisure moments in pressing the mosses and arranging them between the leaves of a book prepared for that purpose. The shells she neatly fitted upon picture-frames, card-baskets, and other articles of ornament. Sebie watched the whole process with much interest. Little Eddie, too, took great pleasure in these labors of his mother. He thought no one ever made any thing quite so beautiful. It was Eddie's opinion that they would bring a great sum of money. Sebie was more moderate in her expecta89



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TRYING TO PLEASE. 67 up, ma! You can hardly know how beautiful nature is this morning." "I know it," replied Mrs. Willard ;" Jane has made the room as gloomy as night. I have scarcely looked out to-day;" forgetting in her unhappy feelings that she had requested the curtains to be put down. I I left the curtains, ma, just right, the last' thing before I left, arranging them just as I knew you preferred them," said Lottie. I know, dear; you are very tender and tthougltful ; but servant-girls are not. Yet -Jane means to do right. I do not blame her." Dinner was served to Mrs. Willard in her own room. She was accustomed to have, from time to time, every luxury that the market afforded; not because she ate freely, but because it was difficult to find any thing that she could eat with pleasure. After dinner she lay for an hour upon the lounge,



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THE "F FL )'I.' CLOUD." 7 a e on the east. The huge waves broke upon the reefs, and sent the spray in misty clouds to the land. Each day the billows iiw:rearl,: in size and in the fury with which they rolled upon the beach. "This storm extends far out to sea," said John Neal, as he stepped back a little to give the advancing water a free course. "See, men, how the breakers increase in size! It is an hour before high tide, yet the sea is already near the top of the beach. We must bestir ourselves and get the dories out of the way. The bathing-houses of the gentry will be likely to get smashed up." The next hour was one of stir and excitel-neut at the Cove. The sea swept the top of the beach in many places, and flooded tle fields and gardens beyond. The bathiong-hou-les (slight buildings put up by summer boarders) were scattered in broken fragments along th,. lhorie. The fish-hquses,



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MIRS -1. WILLARD AND> SEEBIE. Pnir t6.3.



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102 THE FISHERMA.,N'S DA UGHTER. Oh! she won't die, Mr. Neal, will she ? inquired Sebie, in great distress. May be not," said Neal, "but it's a hard tempest for a shattered craft like hers to weather." For many weeks she did not leave her room. Her mother came and stayed with her. And while there she would not have any one else in the room. These were days of great unhappiness to Sebie. She longed to throw her arms around the sufferer's neck and tell her how sorry she was for what she had done. She frankly told her mother the whole truth. Mrs. Linn was deeply pained at her daughter's conduct, and for its afflicting consequences; but Sebie's sorrow was so deep and genuine that she said but little. Very slowly Susie nearly regained her strength. She was then given up again to Mrs. Linn's and Sebic's care. When tlie latter, with tears, begged Susie to forgive her, Susie turned away her t



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CHAPTER III. THE SOFT ANSWER. AM glad they are gone," said Sebie, when Mrs. Linn sat down to her plain meal, with her children only, for the first time after the departure of the boarders. Sebie's mother did not answer. She appeared very thoughtful. After a few moments of silence, Sebie again spoke. She did not feel just right. She had been wronged; of that she was sure. But she did not feel like one who had done nothing wrong herself. Miss Pond accused me of stealing, and called me a thief; but when she found her handkerchief, and so knew I had not stolen it, she took nothing back." "Youan't a thief, Sebie, be you ? I 27



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142 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. MY DEAR SEBIE: Ma sends the papers which have been held against your sweet cottage home. She arranged with Mr. Harris to pay the debt. It is now all your home. I add my present of a check for one hundred dollars, to enable you to go to school, and complete the course of study you have so well begun. We can spare these small gifts, and do so cheerfully for those from whom we have received good of greater value. Give my love to our dear Christian friends at the Cove, especially to my honest, hearty friend John Neal. Dear Sebie, don't forget mother's motto, -" Be patient. You won't regret it." Your LOTTIE. Sebie hurried away with the letter to John Neal. "It will do him so much good, mother," she said as she left the house. "They are the blessed' poor now," said Neal, wiping his eyes as Sebie finished the letter, "and so they are rich." "What do you mean?" said Sebie.



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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts.





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CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGO TEE "FLYING CLOUD" ...... 6 CHAPTER H. PLANNING AND TRYING . . 18 CHAPTER III. THE SOFT ANSWER . . 27 CHAPTER IV. A NEW FRIEND ... 89 CHAPTER V. DISAPPOINTMENT .. . 50 CHAPTER VI. TBYING TO PLEASE .. .. 69



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28 TaE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. know you an't! said Eddie, looking into his sister's troubled face with an expression full of love. Sebie leaned forward and kissed Eddie, tenderly, saying, The boarders knew it too, and if they had only said so I -" At this moment Sebie caught her mother's eye. She hesitated but a moment, for her mother seemed to read her thoughts. If they had said they were mistaken I would have told them I was sorry for my ill-temper." "Do you mean that you will never do right while others do wrong?" said her mother. Why no, mother." And is not a frank confession of our fault the only way to please God ? added Mrs. Linn, earnestly. "If we wait for others to do right to us in all things we shall seldom please him in that way. I am sure, my daughter, that forbearance and a



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CHAPTER VI. TRYING TO PLEASE. C EBIE found Mrs. Willard and Lottie occupying one of the most elegant 1 rooms of the Ocean House. It afforded a delightful view of the ocean and the inland country. She stood for a moment absorbed by the attractions of her situation. Lottie gently removed her bonnet and shawl, directing her where to put them; and then pointing to a chair near her mother, bade her sit down. You will wait upon mother, Sebie," said Lottie, c while I take my morning ride. She does not feel like going out this morning, and you must take good care of her." "Yes, Miss Lottie," said Sebie, think69



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140 THE FISHERMAN'S DAX UGHTER. Mrs. Linn became to them more desirable companions than their fashionable friends, because they began to be one with them in Christ. But with the family of Mr. Harris they formed a close Christian intimacy. No season at the sea-shore," said Mrs. Willard, with great feeling, as they were preparing for their city home, "has ever been to me like this. My friends have wondered at my secluded life and my choice of these humble quarters. They have sympathized with our 'dreadful' confinement on account of Lottie's accident. But all has been good tome; it has brought peace with'Christ." "Sweet cottage home where Jesus dwells," said Lottie, the tear standing in her eye; then turning to Sebie and giving her a kiss of warm affection, she said, playfully, That teasing which my naughty young friends gave you on the beach lias led to important results to us."



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36 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. regret it," she mildly replied to the unfeeling boy, You'll be real sorry, Lonnie." I won't neither," said Lonnie, and continued his fishing. Sebie had but begun her difficult task of restoring the shells to the basket, when a tiny voice exclaimed, "I have found you, hadn't I, Sebie ? It was little Eddie. With some hesitation his mother had allowed him to run along the beach in the direction from which she expected his sister. He arrived just in time to restore Sebie to perfect cheerfulness. "Oh, you has such pretty shells!" he exclaimed, climbing over the rocks, and peeping into her treasures. She at once set down her basket, and, throwing her arms around her brother's neck, gave him a ringing kiss. Eddie's little hand reached into the narrow seams of the rocks and restored many shells that Sebie could not get. "There, now," said Eddie, in a tone of



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A NEt LESSON. 93 like the frog which wanted to be thought as big as an ox, and said he,' John Neal, if you have any just demands against Joseph Barker, bring them on for payment, whether they are hundreds or thousands of dollars.' "'Done,' said I. 'I have a demand against you from head-quarters.' So I took an old family Bible which lay on the stand, and blew the dust off out of the window. 'Look here now, friend Barker,' said I, the Owner of the property that's put for a little while in your care has left these instructions about it: "Give to him that asketh of thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away. To do good and to communicate, forget not. Charge them that are rich in this world that they be ready to distribute." Now you see, friend Barker, that the Owner don't specify the amount, but you must be careful and not keep any thing for the old en-



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70 THE FISHERMAN'S DA UGHTER. "A fussy day, mother! I thought all rich people were happy." "That was a very foolish thought, my child." "But I can't stay at Mrs. Willard's, mother. I shall get real mad sometime." That will be wicked for a child to be angry with an old, infirm lady," replied .Mrs. Linn, with serious emphasis. "Is she not kind ?" "Oh, very; but she is so fussy, I don't want to go back. Please let me gather shells and mosses." You had better drop that word which you apply to Mrs. Willard. Remember she is borne down with age and many bereavements. Her service will be a good school for your temper. I am sure she will not be harsh and unreasonable. Her frequent demands are prompted by great weakness of the nerves. Go back, my daughter, and be patient. You won't regret it."



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SURPRISES. 133 ance, and I have it," she remarked, with deep gratitude and a loving confidence. The terms were easily arranged with Miss Lottie, and she and her mother, with their servant-girl Jane, were soon under the peaceful roof of the Widow Linn. Mrs. WVillar4 had grown more nervous; but her unquiet frame of mind was not wholly owing to bodily infirmities. Her heart was not at rest in God. She had long felt a void which her great wealth could not satisfy. Her bereavements and ill health had helped her to see the emptiness of the world as a source of comfort, but she had not found the true Comforter. Lottie, though amiable and kind, and loving her mother with a devoted love, could not point her to Christ: she had not come to him herself. Mrs. Linn and her pious friends soon saw that there was something for them to do for Mrs. Willard's family beyond satisfying them with a pleasant boarding-place. Sebie



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SUSIE BENT. 83 "I am sure I want mad," said Sebie, recollecting the boastful feelings with which she left Lottie Willard. "Not angry, but out of patience with a poor girl whose sorrows and bodily sufferings you can not understand." "Do you know Susie, mother?" said Sebie, with some surprise. Wait, my daughter," said her mother, "until this evening, and when I sit down to my shell-work we will talk more about this matter." Sebie, during the afternoon, had time for more serious thought concerning her new acquaintance. Her mother's remark about sorrows and bodily sufferings" made her recollect that when Mr. Neal lifted Susie in and out of the wagon she bit her lips and contracted her brow, though the kind man did it very gently. Sebie thought at the time it was a part of Susie's ugly ways; but now she thought it might have been



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98 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGaHTER. wagon. Her clasped hands were raised above her head. Mrs. Linn, who had followed her daughter to the bedside of the sufferer, spoke kindly and gently to her,and attempted to lift her into a more comfortable position. "Let me alone, will you? I don't want you to speak to me, either," replied Susie, following the words by another cry of agony. Mrs. Linn sat down by the bedsides watching with the gentle spirit of Christian love an opportunity to relieve the pain, or to calm Susie's disturbed feelings. Sebie, learned a lesson of patience from her mother's example. Quiet and careful nursing made an improvement in the invalid's health, so that in a few days she: was able to ride upon the beach and to walk a little with Sebie and Eddie among its shells and pebbles. On one of these occasions, after leaning OB



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t I i I. A 1.



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84 THE FISHERMAY'S DAUGHTER. pain. Then Sebie repeated the word "sorrows." What sorrows, she thought, can Susie have had. She began to consider more seriously her hard judgment concerning Susie, and felt that the day's experience had left but poor grounds of boasting concerriing her patience. With these thoughts Sebie took her seat near her mother in the evening. Little Eddie was sleeping sweetly in the bedroom near, and the widow's cottage had an air of goodness, favorable to right impressions. "Mrs. Corey has several times spoken to me of Mrs, Bent," said Mrs. Linn; and this morning she and Mrs. Nolan came to talk more about her. Mrs. Corey has just met a friend now visiting at the Cove, who has known Mrs. Bent's whole history. From him she learned that she had, a few years ago, a delightful home in the city. Her husband, an industrious mechanic, owned the house in which they lived. Her two sons,young men just en-



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86 THE FISHERMANIS DAUGHTER. lively step and sunny countenance. She became irritable when crossed, and would: often stop in the midst of her plays and utter a sharp cry, complaining that her back was breaking. Physicians were consulted, who agreed that her spine was diseased. She soon required a great deal of attention from her mother, which, with her daily labor for a living, broke her own health. Thinking that a change of air and scenery might benefit both the mother and daughter, their physician advised them to come here. Mrs. Bent hoped to support her family by labor of some kind for the visitors; but the fatigue of moving has utterly forbidden it." Mrs. Linn paused a moment, lifted her eyes from her work to Sebie, whose eyes were moistened at the recital, and said, "So you see, my daughter, Mrs. Bent and Susie are here by no fault of theirs. But God is raising her up friends among those



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130 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. The question was repeated very often. The moments flew swiftly away, but they dragged very heavily to the weary invalid. Mrs. Linn could no longer say, Lottie has been gone but a few moments." She had indeed lingered much longer than she promised. Mrs. Linn and Sebie made every possible effort to occupy and interest the anxious mother, while their own thoughts began to be full of fears. She is coming," whispered Mrs. Willard, who was the first to hear the cautious approach of a carriage. Lottie did not alight and hurry into her mother's room as usual. There were suppressed sounds of people speaking in a low and gentle voice. There's something the matter !" exclaimed Mrs. Willard, starting up with unusual energy. "Nothing very serious, dear ma," said Lottie, as the door was pushed open and she entered, supported by a gentleman upon either side. Now let me walk alone, to-



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76 THIE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. to Lottie Willard's oftener than once a month, if she should invite them ever so much; but if there's a poor, cross thing like Susie, they can't do too much for her." So absorbed was Sebie in these complaining and fretful thoughts that she was startled when John Neal called to her, in his rough but kind tone: ; Halloo there, Sebie dreaming, hey, of the pile of gold you're to make from your shells and mosses'There's many a slip between the cup and the lip,' you must remember. But did you see any thing of our little friend Susie Bent, around the point ?" Yes, sir', said Sebie ; "I left her in a brown study, sitting. near Emma Means' dining-cove," ."Poor thing," said Neal; "she must be very weary, and want help in getting home." "I offered to help her, sir, but slie did nothing but snarl at me and say she wouldn't have my help," said Sebie, with much spirit



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CHAPTER XI. BEGINNING ANEW. ( EBIE took her place in her Sabbathschool class, the Sunday after the V^ death of Susie, with feelings such as she had never had before. She saw clearly now the cause of her besetting sin: it was her unrenewed heart. "How shall I get a new heart ? was her sincere inquiry. Her teacher was Belle Harris. Miss Harris belonged to a very pious family, of wealth, who had a residence at the Cove where they spent a much larger portion of their time than others who like them lived in the city. The Harris family had labored for several years for the religious welfare of the people of the place. Their success had created a mutual attachment. The Harrises did not 114



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88 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. "I am sorry I treated you so meanly. I'll fill your basket with the very nicest shells," said Lonnie, taking the basket from her hands. "Do you sit down and rest while I do it." Sebie did as she was bid, and Lonnie soon filled her basket. I am glad I did not get angry at him, and call him hard names," said she, as Lonnie was diligently filling her basket. "Mother's advice is always best." When the basket was filled, the three children walked back to the cove together. Sebie was happy, because she had been patient towards Lonnie; and he was happy because he had generously corrected his fault.



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PLANNING AND TIRYING. 417 great lesson of forbearance. God has said (Prov. xv. 1) 'A soft answer turneth away ,wrath; but grievous words stir up anger.' It may be that the ladies require more than they would if you were less easily made angry." "How can I, mother, be patient when li:li1:, treat me ill? If it were only Eddie, I should not mind it." And yet how often your little brother is compelled to hear your hasty words when he didn't mean to provoke you. When you allow no provocation to be an excuse for illtemper, you will begin to understand yourself, and not till then." Sebie remained silent. She felt keenly her fault. She went away into her room to resolve to do better. But one thing she neglected to do. She did not ask God to ,give her a right spirit. Sebie's resolution was severely tried the next few days by the boarders. Miss Pond 2



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A NEW FRIEND. 49 "Then," said Nell, "we must buy the little merchant out, girls. Come, who buys this shell basket?-only fifty cents, and very beautiful." The proposal was received with a shout, and Sebie's fancy articles were soon exchanged for the money, at a price above that which was marked. "Thank you, young ladies, thank you all," said Sebie, catching up her basket, and starting for home. I told you they'd be glad to buy mother's pretty things," shouted Eddie, in great glee, as Sebie tossed her empty basket into the room and held up both hands in token that she had sold all. "I know it's best to be patient, dear mother," said Sebie, throwing her arms around her mother's neck and kissing her. 4



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BEGINNrIG ANEW. 115 despise the Cove people because of their humbler station in life and rough manners. They tried to elevate and refine them. The Cove people, on their part, regarded the wealth and culture of the Itarrises, with all the elegance and taste with which their daily life was surrounded, without envy. They felt that the family belonged to them, and so they rejoiced in their prosperity and influence. Sebie was very much attached to Miss Harris as her Sabbath-school teacher. She gave intelligent explanations of the lessons, and sometimes loaned her books from her own library. She was very faithful, too, in urging upon her class the great duty of life, that of loving God, constantly presenting Christ to them as their only way of coming to him. When Sebie took her place in her class on the Sabbath of which we have just spoken, her teacher saw at once that God's Spirit was striving with her. She had prayed for



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126 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. to be sure," said Belle; "but a holy life preaches, and so does a Christian temper. Very many opportunities will offer, too, for a young person who loves Jesus, to speak a word for him. Very few, I suppose, of the girls of your school love him. You must preach to them, Sebie, in the way I have suggested." While Miss Belle Harris thus advised Sebie,, Anna Harris, who was but a little older than Sebie, aided her by her own sweet and trusting spirit. Though so young, Anna seemed to have a true faith in Christ. With these encouragements, Sebie resolved that she would, by God's grace, make her influence felt among her schoolmates. She commenced with renewed earnestness to secure a good standing as a scholar. Such was her success, flat, before the short winter term closed, she was advaneed to the classes of girls of her own



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CHAPTER IX. A NEW LESSON. OING to take Susie to your home, I hear," said John Neal, the next day after Mrs. Linn had made the ar rangement to do so. "Well," continued he, "there's'nothing like experience, I see, to make us feel for the poor souls about us who are in distress. I went this morning to our old neighbor Barker; -rich, you know: cash in the bank by the thousands, and houses and lands and boats which he can't eat, nor drink, nor wear, nor pack up to carry with him in the long journey which he and all of us must soon take. And then there's neighbor Barker's sons, who are ready to snap at his riches as soon as the breath leaves his bodythey are as 91



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DISAPPOINTMENT. 53 c And all obtained in so short a time," said her mother, still keeping busily employed about her work. "I'll tell you how that happened," said Sebie, with great animation. Burtie Corey, and Frank Nolan, who is almost always with Burtie, you know, were taking their morning walk. Halloo!' said Burtie, as soon as he saw me,' here's our little moss-gatherer. Come, Frank, there's no better exercise than in helping others. Let's fill her baskets! It will be better than a walk!' So they both went at it, laughing and talking so pleasantly all tie time. Oh, they are so good! My Sunday-school teacher says she guesses Burtie will make a minister yet." I think Burtie is 'most a minister now!" exclaimed Eddie, interrupting Sebie. I han't told you all neither," continued Sebie, with increasing animation. Burtie said my mother's fancy articles were liked



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34 THE FISHERMAN'S DA UGBTER. ledges of rocks where the whitened shells had collected. Burtie then left Sebie in high spirits, and returned to begin the studies of the day. The sun was high in the heavens, and made the surface of the rocks almost scorching hot, before Sebie had filled her little basket with shells. As directed by Burtie, she selected the perfect ones only, of a delicate shape. Having completed this part of her task, she set the basket upon a rock, while she finished her collection of mosses. Oh, I am so glad I am almost ready to go home," said Sebie, hardly knowing that she spoke aloud. She was very weary, yet she finished her gatherings in good spirits at the thought of the cordial approval of her mother. Just at this moment a rough boy came hurrying down the bank with a fishing-pole in his hand. He slipped clumsily down the rocks, flourishing the pole and dragging the end of the line attached



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. NEW F RIEND. 43 The whole company stopped and gathered about Sebie. "Did you ever see such a want of taste in your life, Nell ? said one -of the young ladies, taking up one of the books of mosses and turning over the leaves in a very rough manner. What a poor selection," she continued, and so poorly pressed! They must have been arranged by some fisherman on a rainy day, just to pass away the time." Nell, the young lady addressed, took the mosses from her friend's hand and began to turn over the leaves in a still ruder manner. "Please, miss," said Sebie, imploringly, laying her hand at the same time upon the mosses, "please don't get the mosses out of place: mother was a long time in getting them arranged and pressed so nicely." "Nicely! said the young lady, scornfully, tossing the mosses into Sebie's basket, adding, So your mother did it ? I thought



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40 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. tions, but she felt sure they would surprise the rich visitors, and sell very readily. It was a fine morning when Sebie, with a basket on her arm, and dressed in her neatest manner, went out to make her first effort in selling their wares. Come back quick," said Eddie, throwing her a kiss as she disappeared from sight. "God bless her," said Mrs. Linn in a low voice, as she wiped the tear from her face and turned to work. "They are very pretty," said the first lady upon whom Sebie called. "They show your mother's ingenuity and industry." Sebie felt much encouraged by this remark. But her feelings were sadly changed when the lady remarked, "They are far inferior to those in our parlor in the city." Sebie did not see how there could be any nicer things than her mother made, but she remained silent. After much delay, and many remarks which wounded Sebic's feelings,



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106 THE FISHERMAIV'S DAUGHTER. God to direct him in his good resolutions. On the following evening Frank and his friend Burtie Corey conversed freely upon the subject. They agreed to pray daily for little Susie, that God would give his Spirit to lead her to the Saviour. Mrs. Nolan and Mrs. Corey, grateful for what God had done for their own children, united with Mrs. Linn in constant prayer for Susie. John Neal too gave this labor of love a little prompting. "I see," said Neal, after he came out of Susie's room one morning, "that sin dwells in the heart of a child. True, the pains of the poor body give the old enemy an advantage which he is always mean enough to take. But the children need new hearts. I didn't used to think so, but it's as clear to me now as daylight. We don't half do our duty when we only take care of the bodies of the little ones. Their bodies will find their resting-place in spite of us; it's a



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96 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. weary. Sebie led her gently to her own pleasant room. Susie looked upon its neat furniture, its snow-white bed-clothes, and upon the few unpretending but pretty pictures, and smiled in unaffected satisfaction. She lay down upon the bed; her eyes filled with tears as she glanced at every part of the room. "So like my brother's room in the city !" she said, in a subdued voice. After a few moments' struggle with her feelings of grief, which had been so unexpectedly aroused, Susie dropped into a quiet sleep. Sebie stole softly down stairs. "Poor Susie!" she exclaimed, in a tone of pity. I love her already, mother." "'Love suffereth long and is kind', replied Mrs. Linn. "Yes, mother; I shall be very kind to Susie, I know. She does not seem to me now as she did when she sat on the rock gazing out to sea. I see why she did not



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y= i ii-



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PLANNING AND TRYING. 21 all bounds. "You are no lady, Miss Pond!" she exclaimed; you are no lady, but a mean woman! and Sebie shut the door violently, and hurried down stairs. Her mother perceived the storm of passion that had driven from her face the sweet expression of peace which marked it when she went to the room of the ladies. She had so often seen these bursts of passion that the present instance excited more sadness than surprise. So soon overcome," she remarked quietly. "Well, mother, I don't want to be called a thief, and I won't!" exclaimed Sebie, raising her voice. A thief!" said Mrs. Linn, with earnestness, stopping her work and looking at her daughter. "Who calls you a thief?" "The boarders do," replied' Sebie, too angry to be grieved. Mrs. Linn waited for the explanation of the boarders before making any further re-



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THE SOFT ANSWEB. 81 .Nolan since he turned over a new leaf and became a Christian, nothing goes wrong with him. And then his Frank, who was just the biggest little rascal at the Cove, is now almost as good as Burtie Corey, Somehow the children of these praying mothers can't get along in wickedness as well as others. They are like a swearing sailor in a storm. They feel all the while that their reckoning with the Almighty an't just up to the mark." "So you feel," interposed Mrs. Linn, "that God answers prayer offered for them." "To be sure I do; and a right hearty lift, as we sailors say, God gives such children when they try to do right. But I was a-going to drop a word to put you in a way to be earning a penny since your boarders are gone." Do," said Mrs. Linn, earnestly. "Oh, it an't the thing it may be, only I



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CHAPTER VII. TOO CONFIDENT. AM sorry Miss Lottie's cousin came to stay with Mrs. Willard," said Sebie. V. Why ? said her mother. "Because I have conquered my impatience perfectly, and I could bear anything from Mrs. Willard." "Perhaps," suggested her mother, Mrs. Willard's very kind spirit, which always attends her great nervous uneasiness, may deserve some of the credit of your patience. It is easier to be patient with the rich who can reward. us, than with the poor from whom we expect nothing." "Well, mother, I should think four weeks of good temper prove, under so many vexations, that I shall not be angry again," re72



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30 THE FISBlERMANS DAUGHTER. reacting us. It may be by some unforeseen event, or by the counsel of Christian friends." While she was thus waiting in prayer, her neighbor John Neal came in to extend, in his rough but sincere way, any aid within his power. Sebie listened to his honest words with deep attention, and they made a good impression by their simplicity and good sense. "It's a hard lot, may be, that a widow like yourself has, who has lost a husband such as every wife don't have," he remarked; "but there's a God, I'm a-thinking, who watches over us in all these matters." "Of course there is," said Mrs. Linn, smiling at the peculiar tone in which Neal had uttered his confidence in God's providence. Well, I mean that John Neal sees these things as he didn't once. There's my friend



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CHAPTER II. PLANNING AND TRYING. C EBIE'S question, What shall we do ?" was one that the Widow Linn could i not easily answer. Yet her trust in God was firm. She prayed much for divine aid. She consulted also her religious acquaintances. Mrs. Nolan and Mrs. Corey, friends whose kind encouragement she greatly valued, called upon her frequently. After much reflection, she resolved to take two boarders during the visiting season. Her cottage, though small, was beautifully situated. From the chamber windows a great extent of ocean could be seen. The billows dashed against the rocks just at the bottom of the hill on which it stood. It commanded a view also of the town not far distant. Its 18



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66 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. Strange that children now-a-days all have just such harsh and penetrating voices. They are enough to break one's ears." Sebie had receded so many admonitions from her mother when reading to her to speak up loud and distinctly," that it had notoccurred to her that she could be painfully loud in her reading. She laid the paper down, grieved at her failure to please. I hope you have been very comfortable and happy, dear ma, during my ride," said Miss Lottie, stepping softly into the room. Tolerably," replied Mrs. Willard, "considering that I have had but little attention. I did not like to call often upon the child, she is so little used yet to my ways; and Jane seems to consider my wants of little consequence. "I will reprove Jane," said Lottie. "She has no other business but to attend to your wants. But how closely you are curtained



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64 THE FISHERMAN'S DA UGHTER. see if the morning paper has been brought from the office." Sebie soon returned with the paper, which Mrs. Willard commenced reading. Can not you find, dear, about the room, a higher foot-stool than this ? she said, in a moment or two; strange that Jane should be so unmindful of my comfort as to set for me this very low one." Sebie readily found the article that appeared to give satisfaction. Scarcely was this done, when Mrs. Willard said, in a quick, hurried tone, which indicated distress, "Call Jane, child, immediately." This time Sebie was inot so much alarmed about her mistress. She however informed Jane that her presence was desired instantly in the sitting-room. Jane answered the call as a matter of course, seeming to be neither hurried nor impatient. Adjust these curtains, Jane, so as to give me the proper light. I have not been able to read, for the blinding glare."



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CHAPTER X. THE DEATH OF SUSIE. ~CyJHILE Mrs. Linn and Sebie were Wy nursing with tender interest the suf, fering child, other kind hearts and hands were caring for her. "It's a heavy burden that our neighbor Linn has taken upon herself for the little stranger girl," said Mr. Nolan, 4s he drew up his chair into his pleasant family circle one evening. Mrs. Corey and Burtie are lending a hand too. We must not leave all this business to the widows !" That's just what I think," replied his wife. "The dear child will not live long, I am persuaded; and if she can know a Saviour's love by an inward experience, it -104



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TRYING TO PLEASE. 65 Jane dropped all the curtains except the one at the window behind Mrs. Willard's chair. This done her mistress proceeded with her reading. Having read a few lines, she laid the paper down, saying, as she returned her spectacles to their case, and tlirew her head back upon the soft cushion which had been arranged to support it, "Can you read to me, Sebie? I am so weary." Sebie took up the paper and began to read. Her voice was at first tremulous, for she feared she might not please Mrs. Willard. She had been placed at the head of her reading-class at school, before the death of her father, and since that time had read much to her mother while she was busy with her family work. So she soon recovered her confidence, and read with much freedom. That will do, dear; your voice is so loud and harsh it makes my head ache. 5_



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BEGINNING ANEW. 123 self, thatI can do as well others with the same chance." The scholars caught the spirit of these disparaging remarks, and were a great annoyance to Sebie's feelings. Ruth Ross, a lively girl of Sebie's age, was playing with her one recess. Many other girls were mingling in the amusement. Ruth, getting greatly vexed, at some trifling provocation turned upon Sebie with a torrent of violent reproaches. "You're nothing but a low fisherman's daughter !" exclaimed Ruth. "My dear father was drowned from a fishing-vessel, with which he obtained an honest living," said Sebie, in a tone more sad than angry. "You're a great dunce, too," persisted Ruth, "and can't go into classes of your own age." "I hope I shall be able to soon, when I have made up what I have lost by not hav-



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94 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. emy to bait his hook with when he comes fishing for souls, either now or when you've gone the long journey.' "'Now, John Neal,' said he, 'you are as queer a fish as ever swam in the sea. But you don't catch this old salt in your pious net. I'm a-going to keep my money, that's flat.' "' But your money, Joseph Barker,' said I,'won't keep you! Remember John Neal told you that! You will soon sail the big sea, friend, which has no shore. The riches of this world are not allowed on that voyage. Better arrange matters well here before starting. Good-morning.' So, Mrs. Linn, you see I preached my sermon, but didn't get my fee. As I came up the hill I heard of your offer. 'You're a fool, John Neal,' said I to myself. 'If you wanted a lift in helping a suffering one, why didn't you go to those whom God has chosen, the poor of this



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42 THE FISHERMAIPS DAUGHTER. around the shore, and the children on the rocks were amusing themselves by'throwing stones at them, without the least danger of doing the birds any harm. I wish I was like a sea-bird," thought Sebie, and had nothing to do but to play. I don't see why I have to work so all the tinie. I shouldn't mind working, either: I'd love to work, if there wasn't so much trouble about it. I don't see why the rich folks can't buy my nice things, then my work would be better than play, because mother would be so happy." While these thoughts were passing through Sebie's mind, a loud and merry shout arrested her attention. A party of young ladies from one of the boarding-houses came bounding along the beach. Sebie rose up and stepped forward to meet them, and in a respectful tone said, "Buy my mosses or shell-work, young ladies ? I think you will call them very pretty."



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32 THE FISHERHMAN'S DAUGHTER. heard a fine lady say that she'd like a careful woman to wash and do up her very nice things, and I told her you was the woman." "Thank you, Mr. Neal." And I thought I'd say, too, may be this smart young girl of yours, who han't got a mite of lazy blood in her if she's like those who have called her daughter, might pick up some of the pretty shells, and gather the mosses that many admire so much. They might be turned to good account." "I'll delight to do it, Mr. Neal," shouted Sebie, jumping up and clapping her hands. "And I will go with you too!" exclaimed Eddie. "I can help ever so much; can't I, mother ?" You will try ever so much, little son, I dare say," said his mother. fMrs. Linn thought she saw God's hand in the kind suggestions of John Neal. He has always been a helper of others; God bless him," she remarked, gratefully.



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THE DEATH OF SUSIE. 107 good anchorage for the soul that we want to help them to find." Mrs. Linn smiled at this outspoken sermon. It showed where the good man's thoughts were, and assured her that his prayers united with others' for Susie's salvation. The improvement which took place in the health of the latter after the affair on the beach was not permanent. She could walk out but little. Her days were weary, and her nights full of pain. Her pious friends read a few passages of Scripture to her as she could endure reading. The little stories from the tract and Sundayschool papers pleased her much; and a hymn sung softly by some of her little friends would bring the tears into her eyes. One day Mr. Neal found the child in her old position, sitting on a stone gazing out to sea. Seeing a group of Sunday-school Children frolicking at the water's edge with



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112 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. be patient. For many weeks, while her sufferings were gradually becoming more intense, no complaint escaped her lips. She smiled her gratification for every little attention which Sebie showed her. When her pains were the sharpest, she would say in a low, mournful whisper, Like unto Christ's glorious body!" Suffering which before clouded her brow and extorted bitter words, now prompted expressions of loving confidence in God. "Susie can be patient now," thought Sebie, as she sat wondering at the happy countenance of her suffering friend," whatever I may say or do, or however much she may suffer." Sebie could see that she did not. seen to be always trying to be patient. She was patient by the overflowing of a loving heart. Sebie recalled the lesson in her seasons of secret prayer before retiring to rest. I know now," thought she, what mother means by having divine help to be



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PAlsViKG AND iTRYIRG. 23 find it there, and my sister saw it go out of the room in your girl's hand." "Quite positive testimony," said Mrs. Linn, turning her eyes calmly upon Mrs. Evans, "I did not exactly see the handkerchief in her hands," said Mrs. Evans, but I did see something which I thought could be nothing else, when she retired last night, after leaving the ice-water for which we had called." "You will be relieved to know," said Mrs. Linn, that she brought away a napkin which I had requested her to exchange for one that was unsoiled. Now, ladies, as my daughter has never before come under such an accusation, I insist that you leave no article unmoved in your room, before I can allow its truth." Mrs. Linn's firmness overcame all petulant objections, and they returned to renew their search. Mrs. Evans took from a ward-



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14



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A NE rW FRIEND. 47 ticed that the young woman had selected every article that her friends had injured. She then counted out from a well-filled purse the full amount of the prices attached to them. "Your mother," she remarked, as she rose to follow her companions, has shown excellent taste in selecting and arranging the shells and mosses: I have no doubt she will do even better after a little practice. You did well, too, my dear girl, in remembering your mother's counsel. I overtook my friends just in time to witness their thoughtless but inexcusable conduct towards you, and to notice that, though grieved, you did not indulge in any angry words. I am sure my friends will be very much ashamed when they think of your grief, and how it was caused." While Sebie and her new friend were thus becoming quite interested in each other, the rude young ladies were return-



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54 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. very much, and Miss Anna Harris had seen some that the girls bought on the beach of me, and she told her mother that 'they were elegant.' Now I shall go up to Mrs. Harris's with my next lot, and I shall sell some right off, and there'll be no fussing about them by the Harrises! They are real ladies, mother." Thus Sebie continued her talk, more hopeful of success in her moss and shellwork than ever before. Mrs. Linn began to have some doubts concerning the wisdom of the arrangement she had just made with the Willards. How could she disappoint these bright hopes ?--hopes, too, that had been excited in doing that which her mother had suggested. But, reasoned Mrs. Linn, the trial will be only for one week. It may prove another lesson of patience for the dear child, which, if well improved, will be more valuable to her than any success in her little business.



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TR YING TO PLEASE. 71 Sebie did so, fortifying her resolution by frequently repeating her mother's admonition. At the end of a month Miss Lottie sent the following note to Mrs. Linn, accompanied by twenty dollars: MY DEAR MRS. LINN: Sebie has been a darling girl and a great comfort to mother. We think her services worth the inclosed. LOTTIE. I am sorry I called Mrs. Willard fussy," said Sebie, wiping her eyes.



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:jSa^ £r ^4 4^ ~~uvj ~ a^M^ 4 ^^ w ; s QfMv~ c^ G~~P~R e.~~&I~l*



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132 THE_ FISHERMAN'S DA UGHTER. and his father have been active Christians, every burden has been light. Let God have all the praise." Thus did these faithful Christian mothers encourage each other. While Mrs. Linn was getting ready for the boarding-season, she received by mail the following note: MY DEAR MIRS. LINN: Dear ma wishes to engage board in your quiet cottage during the warm season. She has grown very tired of the confusion and parade of the large and fashionable establishments. We wish to bring one servant-girl only, and to live as quietly as possible. Should you consent to the proposal, I will come to the Cove and complete the arrangements. Your friend, LOTTIE WILLARD. Though such an application was wholly unexpected, Mrs. Linn manifested no surprise on its reception. "It is God's voice, pointing out my way. I expected his guid-



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22 THE FISHEEItMAIS DAUGHTER. marks. But she was sure that the accusation was without good reason. Miss Pond, wllho was always more forward than her older sister, soon made her appearance, and urged her accusation with great violence of manner; besides," she added, your daughter is too impudent to be borne with, and we shall leave your house immediately.' Mrs. Evans soon app 'a, iarel,] gi e,-illgto the accusations. "It's all false, and they know it! said Sebie, interposing. You perceive her imllpel flmc ne, said Miss Pond impatiently. Mrs. Linn commanded Sebie to leave the room, and she instantly obeyed. "Now, ladies," said Mrs. Linn, with calm dignity, let us consider one accusation at a time. Are you quite sure that the handkerchief is not in your room ? " Quite sure, ma'am," said Miss Pond, with a contemptuous sneer. We can not



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74 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. agined, too, that the girl had used her quite ill. Once when Sebie had left a few handfuls of shells on a smooth rock, she had sat down upon them and broken many and brushed the rest upon the sand. Burtie and Frank called her Susie, and seemed to take great pleasure in striving to amuse her. They selected pebbles and shells for her, and, at one time, after taking off their shoes and stockings, they made an arm-chair" with their clasped hands, and carried Susie into the expanded waves as they glided up the smooth sand. The countenance of Susie lost its customary sadness, and she laughed heartily. Her two friends were full as happy, laughing and shouting as they splashed the water in every direction. They then carried her to a pleasant seat upon the top of the beach, and ran away to their daily toil. When Sebie had completed her morning task she approached Susie, who still sat where her friends had left her.



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SURPRISES. 139 on her injured ankle, it had swollen seriously. Mrs. Willard forgot for a time her own infirmities, in her anxiety for her daughter. The exertion she made to aid in ministering to her wants was even a benefit to herself. To Sebie the sick-room of her dear friend was a new field of patient labor. After a few days the latter insisted that Sebie's attention was, for the most of the time, sufficient, and desired Mrs. Willard and Mrs. Linn to give her up 'to Sebie's care. "She's a jewel," was Miss Lottie's frequent exclamation. "Sebie is so patient,' sighed Mrs. Willard, -" a constant reproof to me." The attentive labors of a Christian love in the cottage of Mrs. Linn were greatly blessed to Mrs. Willard and her daughter. The former recovered in a remarkable degree strength and spirits as Lottie began to walk without aid. The humble neighbors of



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8 THE FISHERMAIS DAUGHBTER. which had been imprudently built near the -ordinary high-tide line, were lifted up and borne into the road. "No sailor upon the ocean can sail a vessel in such a sea," said Eben Roper, thrusting his hands deeper into his peajacket pocket, by way of emphasis. "Captain Linn can do it if any one can!" responded two or three voices at once. True," said Roper: "but see the dwelling on Light-house Island! Not one of you ever saw the spray sprinkle its roof as it does now. The 'Flying Cloud' has made her last trip." "Poor Linn, and poor fellows that are with him! said John Neal, with a tenderness unusual for the hardy, weather-beaten men of the Cove; they were imprudent to keep their anchor down so long upon the fishing-ground. Old Jerry Pond, who can snuff a storm when other sailors can see



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68 THE FISHERMAN'$S DAUGHTER. Sebie, her tears suddenly disappearing at the mention in such a connection of the money in which she had taken so much pride, and from which she had promised herself many fine things. "You always, mother," she continued, "want to make somebody else happy by your extra good luck." "Yes, that is what I ought to do," said her mother. "I think God sends such extraordinary blessings as prompters to special benevolence. I know that he has said, 'Give, and it shall be given to you again.' I never feel so sure that God will take care of my family as when I am trying to lighten the burdens of others." "I will try to help Susie to be happy," said Sebie, thoughtfully. "I see that I have indulged in a scolding and fretful spirit towards her all day. I didn't think impatience would come upon me in that way. I never shall be as good as you, mother. How can I always be patient ?"



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90 THE FISHERMAINS DAUGHTER. a while. Eddie's sweet prattle may beguile some of her lonely moments. You, Sebie, can wait upon her, and amuse her much better than her feeble mother can. What say you to this plan ?" It cost Sebie a brief struggle to repress her feelings of opposition to her mother's kind intention for the sufferer. Susie Bent to be her constant companion and obliged to bear with her doleful looks and frequent complaining! Bat Sebie resolutely said, Mother, I'll try to make poor Susie happy !"



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110 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. bedside, after one of her seasons of violent pain, Susie turned to her an inquiring look. "What can I do for you, Susie ?" asked Mrs. Linn. 4' I was thinking,'" said Susie, "what a sweet good place heaven is. Burtie Corey told me last Sunday that there would be no pain in heaven!" We shall have beautiful bodies there," said Mrs. Linn, knowing that Susie was thinking of the suffering she had just endured. "Bodies all well! exclaimed Susie, her countenance glowing with delight. She attempted at the same time to bring her, hands together over her head, but a sharp pain caused her to drop them upon the bedclothes. Mrs. Linn took up the Bible' which lay upon the stand, and read: For our conversation is in heaven, from whence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ; who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his gloriA



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46 THE FISHERSMAIA'S DAUGHTER. about too and spoiled some of them; and then called me a great baby, and ran off. My mother says,' be patient,' but I guess they would not be patient if they were treated so." The young lady thought they certainly would not. She made no reply, however, but took Sebie's basket in her hand, walked up the beach away from the advancing waters, and sat down on a smooth, clean rock. She handled carefully every article in the basket, speaking kind words concerning them. "I will lay out those that I think ma will be most pleased to have me purchase," remarked the young lady. Sebie's wounded feelings were already healed by the favorable remarks. "This young lady knows something," she said to herself; she is a real lady too. I wonder she could call those others her friends." This current of thought in Sebie's mind was disturbed by her surprise as she no-



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THE DEATH OF SUSIE. 111 ous body, according to the working whereby he is able even to subdue all things unto himself." "But we must have a new heart in this life," said Mrs. Linn, laying down the Bible, "without which we can not have bodies like Christ's in the other world." Susie looked thoughtful. After a brief silence she turned her face towards Mrs. Linn, saying, with tears, "Please to pray that I may have a new heart." From this time she showed a decided interest in having the morning and evening devotions in her room. After one of these occasions, when all had left the chamber except Sebie, Susie made a painful effort to extend her arm towards her. I love you now," said she, offering Sebie a kiss. "I won't be impatient any more. I love every body. I love the Saviour, and I am going pretty soon to be with him." The new heart did indeed enable Susie to



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THE SOFT ANSWER. 29 quiet respect on your part, even under the false accusation, would have made the boarders more deeply regret their hasty judgment. You begat resentment by what they, with too much truth, called impertinence, and so they for this reason excuse, though improperly, their own wrong." I see," said Sebie, sadly; "I never can be like you, mother "Be not weary in trying to conquer a wrong temper; but don't forget to ask help from God," replied Mrs. Linn. The question What shall I do ?" came to Mrs. Linn now more seriously than ever. She did not give up in discouragement, but laid the whole matter before God in prayer. Her husband had for many years before his death done so in every perplexity. She felt more and more confident that they who trust in the Lord know by experience that he directs their paths. She often remarked to herself, God has his own way of di-



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THE "FLYINiG CLOUD." 9 only fair weather, shouted his warning to Captain Linn. I'd take Jerry's word for it, if he predicted a storm before noon on the fairest morning that ever shone. But we won't blame him. He has found a grave in the deep waters, may be,no mean restingplace for an old sailor. We must lay up these hulls of ours somewhere, by-and-by, shipmates. Linn was a man that's had a look out for such an event, and he has found -what every man don't find at the end of life's voyage a good haven." These rough but sincere words caused a serious expression on the countenances of his hearers, who were not often deeply serious. They were accustomed to dangers, and the death at sea of a shipmate was no unusual thing. But the loss of six at once -the number on board the "Flying Cloud"wrought deeply upon their sympatlies. The storm at last spent its force, and the



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26 T61B FISiEBRMA"PS DAUGH7'ER. "We adopt no such pious notions," said Miss Pond, with a toss of her head. The boarders settled their bill the next day, and sought another boarding-house.



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S SUSIE BENT. 87 who have not been strangers to sorrow and poverty. John Neal has taken hold of her case in his usual whole-hearted way. He says that Susie loves to sit on the beach and see the waves beat against Light-house Island, near which, as she has learned, her dear brothers lie buried in their deep sea grave. 'When I see her thus gazing, with a look so friendless and full of pain,' says the kind-hearted man, 'my heart leaps up to my mouth. I can't stand it.' It is too late in the season to interest the rich strangers who are here in Mrs. Bent's case. They will soon leave for the city. But we who are at home here, and have a little more than a supply for our daily wants, arl ~ determined to share it with Mrs. Bent anl Susie, and to make her comfortable. I can at least, if necessary, expend for her that twenty dollars which came so unexpectedly from Mrs. Willard." "That'sjust like you, mother!" exclaimed



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CHAPTER VIII. SUSIE BENT. 9[(?HAT a funny good man Mr. Neal is!" said Sebie, as soon as she could get her moss and shells safely put out of the reach of Eddie's curious meddling. He gave us such a good ride! But I do believe, mother, that if there is any body too mean to be loved and too low for others to take notice of, Mr. Neal will do them a favor first! "I trust," said Mrs. Linn, looking up with a glow of satisfaction in her face, "that Mr. Neal, with all his rough manners, is a genuine disciple of Christ. He came forward last Sabbath and united with the church, after many months of cautious 6 8 1





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A NEW LESSON. 101 her violently, saying, "There, now! you strike my little brother again, will you?" Susie's own angry feelings, and the shock of Sebie's rough handling, brought on her sharp, agonizing pain. Uttering a terrifying shriek, she fell prostrate upon the sand. "She'll die I've killed her !' exclaimed Sebie, in great terror. Her cries brought to the spot some men who were fishing from the rocks a few rods off. One of them took the child in his arms and bore her from the beach. As he was passing the fish-houses, John Neal, hearing the noise, came out. On learning who it was in the arms of the stranger, he approached, saying, "Let me take the poor little chick! I have a strong arm, and I know her ways, too." Mr. Neal carried Susie, without a pause, and with rapid strides, and laid her gently upon the bed in Mrs. Linn's quiet chamber. "I fear it is almost over with her," he remarked, sadly.



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52 THE FISHERMAN'S DA UGHTER walk out often; we shall require no hard service of Sebie, and shall be liberal in our pay." No harder service than the exercise of much patience," said the mother, smiling. I think dear ma need not insinuate any ill of herself. As she is not well, she means that she will desire your daughter, if she comes to stay with us, to be very particular in all she does." Mrs. Linn nodded assent. She thought she understood the character of her callers, and readily made an arrangement for Sebie to go to Mrs. Willard's for a few days on trial. Scarcely were the ladies out of sight when Sebie came home, with an unusually light step. "Mother," she exclaimed, "I shall like my way of helping you better than ever! See how lucky I have been this morning! Such fine shells I never have found before; and the mosses! I am sure you will find among them some new kinds."



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THE SOFT ANSWER. 83 Sebie entered upon her new employment with large expectations of success. Burtie Corey, who lived near, heard of her plans, and offered to aid her. Burtie was studying hard at an academy up in town," but he told Sebie if she would go upon the beach very early, he would assist her, for the early morning was his time to take exercise in walking. Burtie was very fond of shells and mosses. His mother had encouraged him from childhood to form a little cabinet of curiosities from the sea. She had pointed out to him the beautiful forms and colors of its shells and weeds, and taught him to see God in them. Sebie was up and ready for her new business the next morning, even before Burtie made his appearance; but Burtie came at an early hour. He pointed out every little cove into which the surging sea could throw the mosses, and the crevices among the 3



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A NE W LESSON. 97 want me to speak to her. She was thinking of her lost brothers." "And feeling, I dare say," said Mrs. Linn, "her sharp, almost bewildering pains. You say, my child, she does not seem to you as she did, and so you can be kind to her. What if she again seems to you very 'hateful?."' "Oh, don't use that word, mother! I am sorry I thought that poor, suffering Susie was hateful. I am sure I shall not again." a "I do not use it to reproach you, Sebie," said Mrs. Linn, very tenderly. "I wish to caution you. Before we judge others, we should be careful to put ourselves as much as possible in their place." A sharp cry of distress brought this conversation to a sudden close. Sebie ran up stairs quickly. She found Susie writhing in pain. Her teeth were set together convulsively, and her brow contracted, as it was when John Neal lifted her from his 7



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DISAPPOINTMENT. 51 Soon after Sebie had gone out the next day, to make an addition to her supply of shells and mosses, Mrs. Linn heard a gentle ring of her door-bell. It announced a call by Mrs. and Miss Willard. Mrs. Willard introduced herself in a familiar manner. She came to say that her daughter had become much interested in the little mossgatherer; "and," added Mrs. Willard, "I have become equally so. I should like to have her come and live with me while I am at the sea-shore." "My daughter is young, and has never been away from home," replied Mrs. Linn. Oh, she will be near, and can run home often," said Miss Lottie Willard. "Ma wants some child to take up her mind, rather than to render her any service. I am quite interested in your daughter, from what I saw yesterday, and I think I shall feel easy to leave ma in her care when I go out. Ma does not wish either to ride or



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THE SOFT' AXNSWER. 35 to it, often being obliged to stop to disentangle it from the rock-weeds. While thus slipping and jumping towards the water, in order to throw his line for fish, he carelessly struck Sebie's basket with his pole, and scattered its contents among the pebbles and into the deep crevices of the rocks. Oh, Lonnie Hurd exclaimed Sebie, in a tone of distress, "see what you have done What shall I do ? " Well, you shouldn't have put your basket in my way. I couldn't help it neither. Of course I wanted to swing my pole round." "Do help me pick them up, Lonnie, I am so tired? "Of course I can't," said Lonnie; "I want to fish." Sebie's tears gave place to a momentary flush of anger at this ungenerous conduct; but remembering her mother's often repeated advice,-"Be patient; you won't



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r A-3 ^" "^ ^ < THE ARM-CIIAIR.



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100 TlE FISHERMANIV'S DAUGHTE. what he considered a choice collection of shells. Among these he had placed a tiny fish, dead, but still sparkling with its silvery scales. Its small eyes and fins and tail were wonderful to him. Approaching Susie, in innocent forgetfulness of his former repulse, he began to empty his pockets into her lap. She received indifferently the pebbles and shells, but when Eddie drew out his fish, and held it up in his little hand, near her face, calling her attention to this special treasure, she started back. You dirty little fellow !" she exclaimed, striking the fish from Eddie's hand by a smart blow; "get away with your filthy fish !" The rude blow, and the harsh rejection of his precious treasures, caused Eddie's tears to flow freely. Sebie, who had turned towards Susie just soon enough to see the blow upon her darling's hand, was overcome with anger. In the moment of excitement she seized Susie's arm and shook



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SUSIE BENT. 85 tering upon manhood, were pious, and lovingly devoted to their parents. Little Sue,' the pet of the family, was as joyful as a spring bird, and full of love for every one. Mr. Bent, after a lingering sickness, which greatly reduced their property, died. The two sons remained at home, supporting the family, and kissing away the tears from little Susie's face when she wept for her dear papa. But a year ago last Fourth of July, the brothers went in a pleasure-boat down the bay for a few hours' sail; and when the boat was off Light-house Island, within sight of our own Cove, a sudden gust of wind upset it, and they were both drowned. Still, after the shock of this great bereavement, Mrs. Bent toiled on industriously, and for some months obtained a comfortable living by the labor of her hands. Soon, however, Susie, who had been the light of her dwelling and her only remaining earthly joy, began to lose her



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TOO CONFIDENrT. 79 water too That's the old Neal at his old tricks, or my name an't Brown. I've told you John couldn't stand it always without something warming to support nature." "Not so fast, friend Brown," said Mr. Nolan, Neal's partner in business. "Don't comfort yourself that John Neal will ever sail again the same voyage in life with you, unless you tack ship and trim your canvas for a different port. Neal's at his old business, to be sure,-the business of making others happy. That poor girl that's on the seat with the Widow Linn's datlghter hasn't smiled since she lost all that was dear to her on earth, except when John Neal or some of the young friends whom he prompts gets a little sunshine on her brow. I tell you, friend Brown, that fun of John Neal's has a meaning to it; it's to raise a gentle breeze to fill the sails of a poor young craft that's rolling in a heavy sea." While this conversation was going on,



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SUSIE BENT. 89 "'Create in me a clean heart, 0 God, and renew a right spirit within me,' was the cry of one who knew his weakness and his wants. God alone, child, can renew a right spirit within us. Until he changes the heart, we may go on trying and failing." Sebie did not now fully understand her mother's meaning. She formed a new resolution to be always patient and forbearing, but still trusted to her own strength. I have a proposal to make to you which will severely try your good resolution," said Mrs. Linn. "I have learned a good lesson, mother," replied Sebie, modestly. "I hope I shall be able to meet your expectations." "I think," said Mrs. Linn, "that the greatest obstacle in the way of Mrs. Bent's recovery is the constant sympathy she feels for poor suffering Susie, and the care she is necessarily obliged to have for her. My proposal is, to have Susie come here for



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92 THE FISHERMAI'S DAU GHTER. drunken vagabonds as curse the Cove. Well, I was a-going to say, I went to Barker's this morning. Says I,' Neighbor Barker, got a case of real genuine suffering and want in our neighborhood.' "' You are always finding such, John,' said he. I don't find more than there are,' said I;' but, however, friend Barker, you must down with an X for this case, certain.' "' Can't do it, John,' said Barker. Can't give ten dollars, out of tens of thousands, for a poor sufferer that God has made sick and dependent?' said I, in no baby-tone. "' I tell you, John,' said he,' I han't got nothing to give.' "' Nothing to give, friend Barker,' said I. I go with you there. But you can pay your debts, hey ?' "' Certain, John,' said he; and he thrust his hands into his pocket and swelled out



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TRYING TO PLEASE. 69must return home instantly," said Mrs. Willard, with nervous emphasis. Lottie gently cautioned Sebie, and she walked in silent grief until the return home. She's an old mistress fuss," was the exclamation which had partly escaped from Sebie's lips, when she suddenly checked herself. "Be patient: you won't regret it," was an admonition she could not forget. Its excellence she had tested too often to wish to disregard it. The walk being finished, Sebie was excused from further service until an early hour of retiring. She ran home, with a feeling of relief. Is the lady good and kind, like our mother, Sebie ?" inquired Eddie, as Sebie opened the door. Oh dear, mother, I am so tired "she exclaimed, without noticing Eddie's question. Has it been a busy day at Mrs. Willard's, my daughter?"





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SURPRISES. 143 "You are so curious, Mr. Neal, in your way of talking." "Oh, my little girl, I only mean that they are 'poor in spirit,' but 'rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom."'



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TRYING TO PLEASE. 61 proper degree of air. The cold east wind is blowing from the ocean directly into the room; I should get my death cold, I do believe, in a few moments. The child opened it at my request, but she set it up too high; she was not to blame: she did the best she knew." Jane placed the window precisely where Miss Lottie had left it. She then inquired. if there was any other command.. None," said Mrs. Willard; return to the kitchen, and wait my orders." I shall not be alarmed so easily again," thought Sebie, as she sat down near Mrs. Willard. After sitting for an hour quite still, Sebie began to be uneasy. She had always been very active. It seemed tedious to have nothing to do, and to see nothing going on. She took up a book full of beautiful engravings which lay upon the table, and began to turn over the leaves. Mrs. Willard started up from a seeming quiet



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SURPRISES. 131 "I think, Sebie," said Mrs. Linn, after much reflection, "we must try again, this season, to take boarders." "I hope you will, mother," said Sebie, cheerfully. "I think I am better prepared to help you than I was." Please don't have any ladies come here to live," said Eddie, sorrowfully. His recollections of the previous season were not very pleasant. "I have made the whole matter a subject of prayer," said Mrs. Linn to her friend Mrs. Nolan, while speaking of her plans one day, and I feel assured God will lead me aright. I have committed all mny proposed plans to his direction; I am perfectly easy; I have no anxiety: since Christ has won Sebie's heart to himself, my faith has been wonderfully increased." "I understand your experience," said Mrs. Nolan, with tears of gratitude. "Since grace has reigned in my family, and Frank



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108 THE FISHERMAIN'S DAUGHTER. the advancing tide, a happy thought struck him. "I'll have 'em at it! he exclaimed to his men who were at work with him. Without a word of explanation he dropped his fishing-net which they were mending, and started for the children in hot haste. "What odd thing is John up to now ? said one of the men, laughing. He's off after that snarl of children, to make sand forts with them for the tide to wash away, or some child's fun or other, I'll warrant. John will never grow old, that's certain, so long as there are any children about." A young heart makes a young man," said another, as he dropped his end of the net to watch Mr. Neal. The old fisherman was soon seen in a merry mood marching straight for Susie, accompanied by the children. There, now he exclaimed, as he arranged them in a half circle in front of;



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BEGINNING ANEW. 125 Just at that moment the teacher's bell rang, and the girls hurried into school. "What a sweet good girl Sebie Linn is !" said Mary Ladd, as she passed over the entry threshold. "She's a real little lady, too, if she did come from the country," replied a companion. Miss Belle's watchful interest led her to inquire of Sebie concerning her school experience. Sebie told her all her trials with truthful simplicity. "You will conquer by forbearance and love, and a diligent attention to your studies," said Belle. "Be patient. Win by the gentle spirit of Christ the wayward to him. Even children, when they love God, can be preachers." "Preachers!" exclaimed Sebie, with niuch surprise, "you do not mean for a girl to be a preacher." "Not a preacher to stand in the pulpit,



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TEs SOFT ANISWrr. 87 triumph, "it's most full again! We can fill it all full pretty soon, can't we ? Though thus cheered, the empty space in the basket looked very large to the weary girl. Lonnie had noticed the loving aid of little Eddie with a feeling of shame; and when he saw Sebie's weary step as she moved away to find other deposits of shells, he entirely forgot his fishing-line. The fish had stolen his bait, but he did not notice it. His unfeeling conduct was the result of an impulse which had given his mother and himself much sorrow. He did not mean to be a bad boy, but he did not govern his feelings when excited. This led Sebie's remark to be true quite often. He had to be very sorry for what he did. Laying down his pole, with the line still in the water, he followed Sebie. "You are very tired, Sebie," he said, kindly, as he ap preached her. "Yes, I am real tired, Lonnie."



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A NEW LESSON. 95 world, rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom. I won't be outdone, neither,' said I, -' by the Widow Linn. I'll take the mother of Susie to my home for a while, if wife consents. So,' says I, 'what says wife to taking Mrs. Bent a while, and nursing her up so she can get upon her feet again ?' Well, John,' said she, 'I have been expecting you would bring her home, and her .cross girl too; so I've got the room all ready. I guess I can get along with one less than I expected.' So, you see, it's all fixed nice." It was with difficulty that Mrs. Bent made up her mind to be separated from Susie, even for a short time. But feeling that it would be for the good of both, she consented. Susie walked over to Mrs. Linn's, one bright and cool morning,-leaning upon Sebie's arm. She was sad but not irritable. When she reached the house she was very



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58 THE FISHERIANwS DA UGHTER. she cried too when she kissed Eddie, and she said she had a little boy once just like me." Light began to break in upon Sebie's mind. "What a foolish girl I am," she said again to herself, not to let mother plan." "When do you wish me to go to Mrs. Willard's, mother ?" inquired Sebie, as she returned to the sitting-room, with a cheerful air. Her mother looked pleasantly upon her altered countenance, but simply replied, "I have arranged for you to go to-morrow." "I shall be all ready, mother," replied Sebie.



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TOO CONFIDENT. 75 "Did you get tired playing with Burtie and Frank? inquired Sebie, wishing to make some talk with Susie. "No," was the brief reply. "You seem to be lame," continued Sebie; "can I aid you in returning home ?" "I'll go without your help when I want to," replied Susie, without turning her eye from her listless gaze out to sea. Sebie was about to make a short and angry reply, but, remembering the serious caution of her mother, she turned away without speaking. She was, however, irritated, and indulged in silent murmurings as she walked along the beach. "I guess she will be glad to have my help when I offer again. She would like to have the young men carry her about, I suppose; but never a word shall she get out of me again. I wonder what Burtie and Frank can see in the cross thing to make them want to take notice of her. It's just like them, though. They wouldn't go



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THE DEATH OF SUSIE. 105 will be a happy moment indeed when she exchanges a world of pain for one of sweet, eternal rest." Mrs. Nolan uttered these words with her usual seriousness and freedom on such topics. Religion had been for many years a living power in Mrs. Nolan's heart and life; her daily spirit in her family recommended it to them. When she spoke of it, they felt that she was speaking .of that which was truly precious to her heart. The child may know a Saviour's love, I am sure," said Mr. Nolan, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Since God has had mercy upon such a poor wretch as I was, he will bless the little ones who seek him !" The sad experience of other months was very plainly before the mind of Frank and his mother. "How good God has been to me too !" thought Frank: "can't I do something for her too ?" Before he retired that night he prayed fervently for wisdom from



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DISAPPOIVNTMENT. 55 While Mrs. Linn was thinking how she could most gently. inform Sebie of the change in her plans, Eddie, in the innocence of childhood, startled Sebie by exclaiming, You is going to live with a rich lady, Sebie, and you an't a-going to gather moss and shells any more!" Sebie looked at her mother, and saw the confirmation of Eddie's declaration in her serious looks. The sunshine at once left Sebie's face, and a cloud rested upon her brow. Rich ladies," said Sebie, "are to poor girls very hard and unfeeling ladies, who require very much, and have but few words to say except those of command." Her mother explained the engagement, and closed by saying, Remember how kind Miss Lottie was to you on the beach." Yes, I know," replied Sebie, impatiently; but it will be quite different when I am at her room, and am nothing but a servant-girl; then there's her rich mother, who



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120 THE FISHERMASI'S DAUGHTER. In the loving atmosphere of the Harris family she felt at home. Honest Mike, their old family servant, and their gardener at the Cove, took every offered occasion to prompt her gratitude and good conduct towards these friends. "It's not the like of you, Sebie," said Mike, "that's had a dacent bringing up, to be the ungrateful wretch to the kind Miss Belle that some of the dirty Irish girls be that she picks up in the streets. It's not a mite of me country's blood that they, have either that's born in Amerily bad luck to them. It's a chatting and a lying story that they tell to get her helping hand; but I belaive, upon me honor, that Miss Belle always makes them ashamed of it, and puts the true tongue in their mouth entirely." "So the poor girls become good," said Sebie, quite interested in Mike's talk of Miss Belle's good deeds.



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118 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. their city residence. "Ma," said Belle one day to Mrs. Harris, while they were busily preparing for their departure, I regret much leaving the Cove on one account." What is that ?" said Mrs. Harris. "I shall lose sight, for the winter, of my little scholar Sebie Linn." After a brief pause, Mrs. Harris replied, "Could we not take Sebie with us, and let her attend school in the city this winter? She might make herself useful at home between the school-hours." "That will please me much, ma," said Miss Belle. "And it will please me too," interposed Anna Harris, who had heard her mother's proposal with much pleasure. "I think Sebie is going to be a genuine little Christian. I shall take great pleasure in aiding her all I can, and Belle can have her as a Sunday-school scholar still." With no other persons would Mrs. Linn Sunday-school"



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CHAPTER XII. SURPRISES. A_ CORDIAL greeting awaited Sebie on her return to her cottage home at the i CoVe. Eddie's loving heart had not grown cold towaids her. Her mother's smiles seemed more sunny than ever. Indeed, they had a new light since Sebie had given her heart to God, and the cheering report of her Christian steadfastness given by Miss Belle had satisfied her mother's fondest hopes. The question so often proposed by Mrs. Linn soon came up with its usual importance; namely, What shall we do ?" The necessity of labor and careful management to secure a comfortable support was as great as ever. 13Q



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62 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. repose, and said, with an expression of pain upon her countenance: "Lay the book down, child; you have quite disturbed my nerves." Sebie laid the book down, and looked hurt. She was about to say, "I did not mean to disturb you," when Mrs. Willard perceiving her feelings, said kindly, "you will learn my ways by-and-by, my dear. You must be patient; it is quite likely that I shall chide you often. But you will learn something every day; now send Jane here, and you may go upon the piazza on the ocean side of the house until called. Mind and be just there when you are wanted. Sebie would have much preferred a run upon the beach, but did as she was directed, and remained on the piazza. Some sailingvessels were coming round the point into the Cove, and she became interested in watching them, when Jane called, in a quick and sharp tone of voice, saying that



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SURPRISES. 135 "I'll soon be safely back," said Lottie, as she fondly kissed her mother. Mrs. Willard sighed as her daughter turned to depart. "I have half a mind not to go," said Lottie, pausing at the carriage-door. "I fear ma is not so well as usual. She seems so sad when I go out I don't enjoy my ride." "You need the fresh air, Miss Lottie," interposed Mrs. Linn. "You'd better go. We will give good attention to your mother." At this prompting Lottie's irresolution vanished, and she was soon looking out from the carriage-window upon the calm, deep sea. "How quiet and beautiful!" thought she. "If mother could sit by my side and enjoy it I should be perfectly happy. It does me good; I feel better already." "Hasn't Lottie been gone a great while ? said Mrs. Willard, impatiently. Not very long," said Mrs. Linn, looking at the gold watch hanging near Mrs. Willard.



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20 THE FISHERMAN'S DA UGHTER. Oh, you need not deny it, and think to make us drop the matter by getting angry ;" interposed Mrs. Evans. "We know all about it," said Miss Pond. "I took it from my trunk last evening, just before retiring, and laid it upon my toilettable, as we expected to take an early walk this morning. My sister took it up and admired it, and laid it down again. Besides, my sister recollected that when you came in, after we retired, to leave a goblet of icewater, you left the room with something of the kind in your hand. She did not think any thing of it at the time, but it confirms our belief that you took the handkerchief. Besides, we have searched every part of the room. You must be the thief." Sebie had stood to hear these accusations with a face pale with excitement, but up to this moment it had been an excitement more of grief than of anger. But at the last taunting charge her anger broke over



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4 CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. PAGB Too CONFIDENT .. 72 CHAPTER VIII. SUsIE BENT ... .. 81 CHAPTER IX. A NEW LESSON ......... 91 CHAPTER X. THE DEATH 0r SUSIE .. 104 CHAPTER XI. BEGINNING ANEW ... 114 CHAPTER XI. SURPRISES .... 180



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78 THE FrSHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. splashing it finely. In this style Neal drove towards Susie, and, on getting abreast of her, turned liis horse's head quickly, and brought up at her side. Susie burst into an immoderate laugh, pointing at the same time at the good sprinkling which Neal and Sebie had both received. Taking the advantage of Susie's merry mood, Neal sprang from the wagon, and, catching her in his arms, placed her upon the seat with Sebie, exclaiming, Laughing at John Neal's wet coat, hey! We'll see how you will like a splashing yourself." Neal seized the reins, and giving his horse the word, he started off at a lively pace. Having rounded the point, he turned to the water again. "I declare," said "Old Brown," who had just taken his fourth morning glass of poor whiskey at the saloon; "I declare for't, now, friend Nolan, if I don't believe John Neal's been tipping a glass this morning. Just see him drive! and through the



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10 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. sea in a few days subsided into its usual monotonous dash upon the shore. The "Flying Cloud "'never returned. No fragment of her was ever found to tell its mournful tale of her fate. But no doubts were left upon the minds of bereaved friends: the ocean had taken her to its solemn depths with all her crew. What shall we do without father ?" said Sebie Linn, when the last hope of her father's return had departed. "What can Eddie and I do? and what can you do, mother ?" "Trust in God, child," said her mother. Remember how many times your dear father has said, 'God never forsakes those who trust him.' " But it is so hard, mother," said Sebie, sobbing. Father always got us every thing we needed when the boat paid off. He loved us all so, too! Who will get things for us, and love us, now ? I don't



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80 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. Mr. Neal had dashed by, turned off from the beach, and was driving towards the humble house of Mrs. Bent. Susie had subsided into her sullen mood. She uttered only a cold "thank you," as Mr. Neal lifted her from the wagon. A" What an unthankful, sullen little thing she is!" said Sebie, as Neal drove towards her own happier home. "Be still, girl," said Neal, in a sharper, more serious tone than he had used during the ride. Sebie said no more, but was careful td render her own thanks to Mr. Neal, as lie left her at her mother's door, in the most cordial manner. Neal seemed lost in thought, and drove away, simply saying, You are welcome, girl."



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DISAPPOLr T TMENT. 57 a little while shelooked out upon the ocean, always associated with the memory of him, the dearly-loved and praying father, who had found a grave in its deep bosom. What would dear father say?" she thought, as she wiped away her tears. And don't mother always know best, and didn't I tell her after I had such good luck by being patient with those naughty young ladies that I was so glad I was patient? I wish I had never said I can't.'" While Sebie was in this tender and relenting frame of mind, her little angel comforter stole into the room. "I thinks," said Eddie, looking into his sister's eyes with an anxious expression to see if the tears were still there -" I thinks that lady you is going to live with is weal kind." Why, Eddie, what makes you think so ? said Sebie, patting him on the face. Cause she kissed Eddie, she did; and



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124 THE FISHERMA'S DA UGHTER. ing the advantages of you city girls," replied Sebie, mildly. Provoked that she had not disturbed Sebie's calm temper by cutting words, the wicked girl threw into Sebie's face the fragments of an apple she had been eating, and ran to another part of the play-ground. "The mean thing!" exclaimed a generous voice. The disapproval of Ruth's temper and conduct was repeated by a score of voices. We'll tell the teacher of her, and have her punished," suggested Mary Ladd. By no means," said Sebie. I thank you, Mary, for your kind word for me, but I do not wish to have her punished on my account. She will be ashamed of her conduct when she thinks of it in her call moments. At any rate, girls, I forgive her; let us go on with our play, and say no more about it."



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BEGINNING ANE W. 121 "Good, is it ?" said Mike. "A rock is that heart entirely that Miss Belle's love don't melt." "Well," said Sebie, good-naturedly, "I will try to be one of her truthful and grateful friends, though she didn't pick me up out of the street." "I beg your pardon, Miss Sebie," said Mike, making a low bow: "it's not with them same that I was putting your sweet little self, but it's only Mike's way of telling about the blessed Miss Belle." Sebie's real trials in her new situation began in the public school. Every thing about her here was new, and she naturally felt awkward. "She's a little green thing!" whispered Louisa Dunn, as she turned to look at the stranger at recess. The thoughtless word reached Sebie's ears; it deeply grieved her, and increased her embarrassment. How many sharp pangs are made in sensitive hearts by thoughtless words!



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68 THE FISHERMAN4S DAUGHTER. during which time the kind Lottie took Sebie's place at her mother's side. Sebie was required, however, not to be further off than the hall from which the room opened; Jane was also within an easy call. During this hour of resting, Sebie was called five times; and Jane three, to assist Lottie in making her mother comfortable. When the intense heat of the day was past, Mrs. Willard ventured to take a short walk along the seashore, accompanied by her daughter and Sebie. She did not often ride. She could not trust, without fear, either the driver or his horses. Sebie, anxious to please, ran to the top of the beach and selected a few of the small, sea-polished pebbles, of various colors, and brought them to Mrs. Willard. As she passed a rocky crevice, she obtained a handful of whitened shells, which she exhibited with much animation. Dear me, Lottie, how the child confuses my head with her constant prattle. She must desist, or I



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PLANIVIN AND TrYING. 19 temptation Sebie paid but little attention to this. remark, but bounded up stairs with a light heart at the unusually early call of Miss Pond. As Sebie entered the ladies' room, Mrs. Evans met her with a look of settled anger. But her sister did not restrain her feelings. "Now, miss," she began, with great bitterness of tone, "we have certainly caught you this time! We have missed many little things, but thought, for the sake of your mother, we would say nothing about them. But a costly lace handkerchief is too valuable for such a low girl as you are. Now, return it at once, and confess your fault, and we will say no more about it; otherwise, we shall have the house searched and you punished." "I have not taken your handkerchief, ladies, I assure you," said Sebie, struggling hard to repress the feeling of anger that the accusation excited.



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THE DEATH OF SUSIE. 109 her ; ( there now, children, give us your sweetest song. But don't bawl it out. Susie don't want her head split. Warble away, my merry birds !" Susie was very fond of music, and therewas always something in Mr. Neal's way of trying to please her that touched her heart. The children sang sweetly their songs of heaven and of the loved ones that have gone on before. Their hearts were merry, and Susie's became joyous too. The many ways in which words aboutJesus were brought to Susie's ears, were attended by the Holy Spirit. Prayers for his influence were not in vain. With more and more interest she listened to these words. 1Her parents had never sought Christ; and her brothers had but just entered upon a Christian life when they found a watery grave. Susie had therefore not been led to think of Jesus and a home in heaven. One day while Mrs. Linn was sitting at her





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TOQ CONFIDENT. 73 Sied Sebie, somewhat hurt at the implied doubt of her steadfastness contained in her mother's remark.. We shall see said Mrs. Linn, in a tone that was very serious. My daughter should pray much, and past little." The manner in which her mother spoke told Sebie that she meant more than she expressed. But the impression soon wore off, and the remark was forgotten. She went the next morning upon the beach for shells and mosses. Burtie Corey and Frank Nolan were there: before her. This time they did not, do more than greet her cordially with a' good-morning.' They seemed much interested in a very plainly-clad girl, a little younger than Sebie, whom she had once or twice seen sitting alone upon some of the bowlders, or walking with apparent pain along the beach. Sebie thought there was something very unpleasant in this young girl's Countenance. She had im-



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A NE W LESSON. 99 Sebie's arm and walking a little, she sat down upon a sea-polished stone. Eddie, in childish simplicity, brought her a handful of various colored pebbles. To his eye they were very beautiful. He threw them into Susie's lap, exclaiming, "There, Susie, see what pretty stones I found for you!" Susie's eyes had wandered out upon thq ocean, and were seeking the point of rocks off Lighthouse Island, where the white foam of the broken waves was just visible. She made no reply to. Eddie, but brushed the pebbles from her dress, scattering them upon the sand, without removing her eyes from the sea. Eddie looked grieved, and, picking up the stones, said, with loving simplicity, 'i They are pretty, now, Susie." Sebie had noticed the act with a feeling not quite so ainiable. She called Eddie away, and they wandered off, leaving the sufferer to her sad thoughts. When they returned, Eddie had added to his pebbles



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BEGINNING ANEW. 127 age, receiving at the same time many words of commendation from her teachers. Ruth Ross, who had called Sebie a dunce, and who threw the pieces of apple into her face, was in these classes; but she was by no means at the head of them. Ruth's arithmetic lessons were very perplexing. She seldom had them perfectly, and often entirely failed. One day, Ruth having stumbled at the black-board, the teacher called upon Sebie to take her example, which she did, performing it very readily. "The new member of the class will excel you, Ruth, if you don't bestir yourself," said the teacher, without knowing how cutting the remark was to Ruth. "I wonder who is the dunce now!" shouted one of the girls, at recess, to the mortified Ruth. Sebie seemed not to hear the remark, but turned to another part of the play-ground. She sought the earliest



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128 THE FISHERMAXN'S DAUGHTER. private opportunity to offer to aid Ruth in getting her arithmetic lesson. "I don't want your help," said Ruth, sharply. I don't mean to offer to do the sums for you: that would not be right," said Sebie; but if we study our lessons together, may be we can assist each other." To this softened proposal Ruth consented, really glad of Sebie's assistance in regaining the good opinion of her teacher. Her recitations began to show a marked improvement, and she received, one day, the commendation of her teacher. x I guess if the teacher knew that Sebie Linn gets your lessons for you he wouldn't think you deserved much credit," said Louise Dunn, with a provoking tone, as Ruth entered the play-ground at recess. "She didn't," replied Ruth, much excited. "I know she does," persisted Louise, "for one of the girls told me so."



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BEGINNING ANE 119 have consented that Sebie should go to the city. She well knew its dangers, especially to the young Christian. But she regarded the kind proposal of the Harris family as providential, and committed her to their care with gratitude. Little Eddie did not so clearly see the rightfulness of the arrangement, but he was comforted by the thought that mother would be under his loving care. "I can help you, can't I, mother ? he said; "and you won't be lonesome when I am here." "You'll be a dear boy to mother, I know,' said Sebie, giving him a cordial kiss. Every object seemed to wear a new aspect to Sebie Linn on her introduction to city life. In the Sunday-school she felt more at home, because the teacher was Miss Harris. Yet the elegant lecture-room in which they met strikingly contrasted with the plain room of the dingy chapel at the Oove. Ie :



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82 THE FISHERMAY'S DAUGHTER. waiting. But what despised one has he been helping now ?" Why that ugly little Sue Bent, who has just moved from the city! She can't speak to any one decently. I offered to help her walk home, but she only muttered that* she'd help herself when she wanted to go home. I guess when I offer again to help her she will be glad to have me. But Burtie Corey and Frank Nolan could hardly speak to me, they had so much to say to the hateful girl; and John Neal frolicked like a boy to please her, driving into the water and making it fly like the spray in a storm. He didn't get many thanks for it, though, for she looked real sullen when he left her at her own door. I felt-" Mrs. Linn's reproving look checked Sebie's talk as she was about to utter an exclamation of dislike to Susie. "You felt very much out of temper at poor Susie," said her mother.



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6 THE FISHBiMAs oS DAUGHTER. Cove, as the fishing-village in which they lived was called. She had been at the beach many times to inquire for the news. The old fishermen shook their heads and looked at the anxious wife, as if they regarded her already as a widow. The "Flying Cloud "-for that was the name of the missing vessel-had been seen at anchor on the fishing-ground when the other boats left, as if defying the gathering storm. Her more prudent companions, soon after they hoisted their sails, had been driven before an increasing gale, barely reaching the safe retreat of the Cove before the full force of the tempest came down upon the sea. A rocky coast lay near the fishingground, and the wind blew towards the shore. Every day the fishermen of the Cove strained their eyes to catch a sight of the missing sail as it should come round the point of rocks which bounded their anchor-



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CHAPTER V. DISAPPOINTMENT. ISS LOTTIE WILLARD, whose genfIfi erous conduct had given a favorable VW turn to Sebie's sales, was in feeble health. Her widowed mother, who had come with her to the sea-shore, was very infirm. She had recently buried her husband, who had left great wealth; but she found very little comfort in riches, for one affliction had followed another very fast. An only son, who had become master of one of his father's ships, was lost at sea, just before his father's death. Bereavements and illhealth had weaned the mother and daughter from the pleasures of fashionable society, without having imparted to them the comforts of a good hope in Christ. 60



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A NEW FRIEND. 41 though not made in any unkindness, the lady put in the basket the price of one of the smallest and cheapest books of mosses, remarking, "There, though it's a very inferior thing, I'll take that. We must encourage poor people's industry, I suppose." Much of the morning had been spent, and Sebie had made but this one small sale. She would have turned in discouragement towards home but for the recollection of her mother's gentle chiding, so often made, -" Don't be impatient; all will be well." After making several unsuccessful calls, Sebie turned to the beach and placed her basket upon a large stone and sat down by the side of it. The tide was coming in, and as she watched the water gliding further and further up the smooth sand, at each succeeding breaker, she almost forgot her ill success which just before had made her so sorrowful. The sea-fowls were sporting



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134 THE PISHERMAr S DA UGHTER. did but little except to try to make the long days pass away pleasantly to the uneasy Mrs. Willard. Her wants were never satisfied, though every effort was made to please her. Before her orders were obeyed she sometimes forgot that she had made them, and commanded something very different. She often spoke sharply, and wounded her attentive friends without seeming to know what she had said. Lottie's opportunities to escape from her sick mother's room by a morning or evening ride became more and more infrequent. "Dear Miss Lottie," said Sebie one pleasant morning, I will be ever so kind and attentive to your mother, while you steal away and have a good drive over the beach." You are always kind to dear ma," replied Lottie; but I can not steal away. I never could forgive myself if any thing should happen to distress her. I will get ma's consent."



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.A NEW LESSON. 103 head, and did not make one word of reply. Still Sebie watched over her, from day to day, with great tenderness. It was the tenderness of pity, but not of warm love. Her sensitive feelings were moved at the invalid's sufferings, but that was all. Sebie had yet another most important lesson to learn. ... r



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BEGINNING ANEW. 129 It was Sebie that told her, I'll warrant, the little hypocrite that she is I'll pay her for it," muttered Ruth to herself, as she walked away from her mischief-making friend. Ruth was too proud to acknowledge Sebie's assistance, and too much a coward to endure such taunts as those just cast at her. So she blundered along alone with her lessons, cherishing resentment for the supposed injury that Sebie had done her. Louise and Ruth lost no opportunity of teasing Sebie. But she felt no resentment, quietly attending to her duties as a scholar. When the late spring had arrived, and the Harris family were preparing to return to their sea-shore home, Sebie stood at the head of her class at school. She had established confidence too in her religious profession. All the trials of her temper had strengthened her faith and confirmed her peace. She had triumphed by grace. 9



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18 TIHE ISHE94AfIA'S DAUGHTER.' was really thoughtless, as well as unfeeling; she knew notliln of the power of words of gentleness and love over erring childhood. But Sebie wtri:.vedl without reieriitnimnt; and when, on the evening of the third day, she kneeled to say her prayers at her bed-side, she had a more joyful heart than she had felt since the boarders came. Mother's way is best," she exclaimed to herself, as she threw her head upon her pillow. "I nev er will get angry again." Sebie rose early the next morning, and hurried down to help her mother prepare the breakfast. I shall keep my resolution to-day," thought she, as she left her room. It would have been much wiser for Sebie to have paused a few moments and prayed for strength to keep her resolution. She did not yet know fully her own weakness. Her mother had noticed the improvement in her temper, and reuintlel her that God only could give her strength to overcome every



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PLANNING A D TR YING. 25 show of your costly handkerchief in your call upon the Misses Harris to-day." "Well, let us get away, then, immediately; I never could bear to be caught in the wrong by poor folks !" With an ill-concealed mortification the ladies acknowledged that the lost article was found, but added, ungenerously, "'It doesn't excuse your daughter's impertinence." True," replied Mrs. Linn, and I propose to require her to acknowledge to you that fault, believing that you will, with equal frankness, state to the child that your accusation was not only a mistake, but was urged too hastily and severely." I shall do no such thing, I assure you," said Miss Pond. "I make it a rule," replied Mrs. Linn, "to confess as fully a wrong done to children as one done to my equal in age. It is thus that they best learn the duty of confessing wrong done to others."



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A NEW FRIEND. 45 so?" thought Sebie, in her bitterness of feeling. She did not feel like starting again, and might have remained a long time desponding, had not a large wave rolled the advancing waters against her feet and around the rock upon which she was sitting. She started suddenly, and was surprised to see a young lady standing a few steps higher up the beach. The latter belonged to the company which had caused Sebie's heaviness of heart. Being slightly lame she had overtaken the party in time to hear only the remark which had been made at their departure, and to see the signs of Sebie's injured feelings. She knew the thoughtless manner of her friends, and readily understood the whole matter. "Did my friends buy any of your articles ? she inquired, in a conciliatory tone. No indeed," said Sebie. But I should not have cared for that, if they had not made sport of them. They pulled them L



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THE DEATH OF SUSIE. 113 patient. I want a new heart, and then I shall be like Susie." The storm raged angrily without, but there was the calm light of heaven within the cottage of the Widow Linn, as the spirit of Susie Bent took its flight with angels to the land that knows no pain. It was midnight. Tie darkness was intense, except when broken by the momentary glare of the lightning. The roar of the tempest-tossed waves, as they were hurled against the rocky shore, was fearful. I never knew it so calm in a storm before," whispered John Neal, holding the cold hand of little Susie.We don't often get so near heaven, friends." 8



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48 THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. ing from their run over the beach, and, unobserved, had already approached quite near. "See!" said the young lady who had before been forward to speak, there's the rich Miss Willard making a friend of that poor moss-gatherer. I hope she didn't see us toss her things round." "That was too bad; I have been ashamed of my poor wit on the occasion," added her companion in mischief. See, girls, what a fine purchase I have been making," said Miss Willard, as her friends approached. "These I feel the most interest in," she continued, holding up her purchases so that the injury that they had received might be noticed by the company. I insist on taking some of them off your hands, Miss Willard," said the forward Nell, blushing. "By no means; they will interest ma much, I assure you."



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TOO CONFIDENT. 77 "Wrong temper, that," said Neal, springing into his empty market wagon, which had just returned from its morning round. "Jump up here, Sebie, and we will take a drive around the point, and then up to the Widow Linn's. I guess you will get there full as easy as you would to walk, and about as quick." Sebie did not wait for further prompting, but was soon dashing along the ocean's sandy floor towards the unhappy Susie. The latter remained where Sebie had left her, and was still looking upon the far-extending sea. "We must startle her out of the dumps," said Neal, with the roguish twinkle of the eye of a boy of sixteen, at the same time giving his lively little horse a gentle cut, and turning his head towards the water. It was a warm day, and the horse enjoyed the fun as much as the riders, as he made the wagon spin through the shoal water,



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It