• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 The planter's son
 Prejudice lost and love won
 Willy and Lucy
 The captive's daughter; a tale...
 "Not clever"
 Gertrude of Wyoming
 Advertising
 Back Cover
 Spine






Group Title: Planter's son : and other stories
Title: The planter's son
CITATION PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00015592/00001
 Material Information
Title: The planter's son and other stories
Physical Description: 1 v. (various pagings) : ill. (some col.) ; 18 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Hillyard, W. Heard ( William Heard )
Lydon, F ( Illustrator )
Whimper, E ( Engraver )
Friston, David Henry ( Illustrator )
Hall L. A, fl. 1860-1870
Sargent, George E ( George Etell ), 1808 or 9-1883
Hillyard, W. Heard ( William Heard )
Wilbraham, Frances M
Groombridge and Sons ( Publisher )
Publisher: Groombridge and Sons
Place of Publication: London (5 Paternoster Row)
Publication Date: [187-?]
 Subjects
Subject: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1875   ( lcsh )
Moral stories -- 1875   ( local )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1875   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1875
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Moral stories   ( local )
Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
bibliography   ( marcgt )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
 Notes
Bibliography: Includes notes.
Statement of Responsibility: by W. Heard Hillyard and others ; illustrated.
General Note: Date approximated from Brown, P.A. London publishers and printers c.1800-1870, p. 78: Groombridge and Sons, 5 Paternoster Row, 1846-79, and the cover design indicates 1870's printing.
General Note: Frontispiece is chromolithographed plate, signed by F. Lydon.
General Note: Ill. engraved and signed by E. Whimper drawn after D.H.F.
General Note: Publisher's advertisement: 4 p. follows text.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00015592
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002226920
oclc - 50335106
notis - ALG7216

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Page 1
    Frontispiece
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
    The planter's son
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
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        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
    Prejudice lost and love won
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
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    Willy and Lucy
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
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    The captive's daughter; a tale of the salt-mines of Poland
        Page 148
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    "Not clever"
        Page 195
        Page 196
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        Page 198
        Page 199
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    Gertrude of Wyoming
        Page G 3
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        Page G 12
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        Notes
            Page G 29
            Page G 30
            Page G 31
            Page G 32
        Page G 14
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    Advertising
        Page Ad 1
        Page Ad 2
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        Page Ad 4
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text









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THE PLANTER'S SON.
BY W. HEARD HILLYARD.
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THE PLANTATION-HENRIQUEZ KILLS THE JAGUAR, AND
RESCUES MADELINE FROM THE HERD.

THE sun had disappeared behind a forest that stretched
as far as the eye could reach across the broad land-
scape; but though the orb itself was no longer visible, the
sky overhead was dyed in the most glorious colours of a
tropical sunset, as the beauties of an Indian day were
giving place to the approaching gloom of night.
A belt of wood, whose recesses seemed lost in sha-
dow, except where the reflection from the burnished
sky lit up its high tops with streaks of fire, extended
from the high bluffs of the Rio San Francisco for more
than two leagues, till it became lost in the forest which
bounded the distance. The immense plain that lay
within this triangle of wood was divided into planta-
tions of rice, indigo, maize, tobacco, sugar, and cotton,
through which streams and rivulets, glinting like threads
of silver, pursued their winding course.
The banks of the San Francisco, into which the


B 2






THE PLANTER'S SON.


different streams were pouring their waters, formed the
foreground to this lovely scene.
Narrow embowered footways, here and there spanned
the different streams, while a suspension bridge of bam-
boo, of considerable size and width, tastefully con-
structed and covered with thick masses of wild vine,
hung from two tall trees, and secured in a similar
manner on the opposite bank, formed a direct commu-
nication across the San Francisco, from the plantation
to the hacienda or mansion of the planter.
Standing within one of the glades, that opened from
that part of the forest abutting on the river, with his
arms folded, and moodily resting his back against the
bole of a smooth gum tree, stood a boy of some fifteen
years of age, but who, by his serious countenance, the
deep gloom of his features, and his manly attitude,
might have been taken for some years older. The boy,
for he could hardly yet be called a youth, was tall for
his age, slight in figure, light of limb and active; while
his features, though far from regular, were remarkably
handsome, revealing by the soft, yet at times fiery
glances of his dark eyes, and the clear olive of his
skin, the cross of Indian and European blood in his
veins.
The beasts of the forests were already rousing from
their long sleep of the exhausting day, and might be
heard prowling through the distant wood in quest of
prey, or seeking, as the sun set, their dens and subterra-
nean retreats for the hours of darkness; but of all
these, the dwellers of tree and brake, the boy in his
moody state took little heed. But although the scream
of the cockatoo, the discordant bray of the laughing
jackass, and the dissonance of the larger beasts, had





THE PLANTER'S SON.


sunk into silence, the wood, though voiceless, became
each moment, as the shadows of evening deepened,
more dangerous to the heedless wayfarer; for already
the ocelot, the jaguar, and puma had left their far-off
dens, and, with noiseless strides, were prowling through
the wood.
In what am I better than a frightened agouti," ex-
claimed the boy, or that poor alio ?" as a cry of pain,
a rush and a bound was heard in the undergrowth im-
mediately beyond the glade in which he stood, inducing
the boy to draw the knife he wore in a scabbard at his
side, and gaze in the direction from whence he had
heard the noise. The rattlesnake is making a supper
of the one, and yonder ferocious catamount the ocelot,
of the other; for I, and the estate that ought to be mine,
are made the victim and food of a man puma. Why
should I defend myself, I am weary of living-sick of
life ?"
You are very young to speak so despondingly,"
observed a gentleman, as he drew his bridle and looked
pityingly down on the youthful speaker. The words
were so abrupt and unexpected, that the boy started
from his listless attitude, and seemed as if ready to do
battle with the stranger, whose approach along the thick
moss of the glade had been totally unheard.
"I should like to know what makes a youth of your
age so weary of his life ?" inquired the speaker.
"I am a slave," replied the other, with a tone of
bitter mortification.
Well !"
"Is not that enough?" rejoined the boy sullenly;
can any condition be worse, or more cruel ? and is not
a dog better than a slave ?"






THE PLANTED'S SOT.


These are strange opinions for you to entertain,"
replied the horseman, and are not only erroneous but
sinful, and particularly extraordinary in coming from a
born slave."
"I am not a born slave!" cried the boy, fiercely.
Indeed !" replied the other, how is that, for there
is still light enough here for me to see that you are
neither European or Creole, you must therefore have
been a born slave ?"
Do you take me for the son of a negro, for a Cubra
or a Caribosco? no; I am of royal blood; a Sachem
was my mother's father, and I am a Manmeluco."
Then why call yourself a slave ?"
"Because by some mistake of my father's he died
without a will, upon which his brother, my uncle, had
the right to seize on the estate my father meant to leave
me, and made my mother and me slaves. Stoop,
stranger! stoop for your life," exclaimed the boy, with
a sudden shout of terror, as he launched his heavy
knife apparently full at the horseman's head.
The suddenness of the cry, the alarm of the boy,
and the threatening attitude assumed, for an instant
paralyzed the horseman, and it was not till the danger-
ous weapon had left the other's hand, and was flying
towards his head, that the stranger mechanically bent
forward to his saddle, from which the next moment he
was almost dashed to the ground by the weight of a
heavy body that fell at his horse's feet, exposing to the
astonished equestrian the form of a large jaguar, who,
with the boy's hunting knife buried to the haft in its
breast, lay snapping and plunging, till after a sudden
spasm it rolled on its side and expired.
"Brave boy, your quick eye and ready aim have






THE PLANTER'S SON.

saved my life," observed the stranger, gazing on the
savage beast, as in its death struggle it clutched vainly
at the air and gnashed its powerful teeth.
"I have done nothing," he replied indifferently, as
he placed his back against a tree, and looked down on
the dead beast.
I think differently; but as this is evidently a
dangerous spot at this hour of the evening, I will
trouble you to direct me the nearest way to Don
Alvarez's hacienda, where my family are already staying,
and I should, but for a delay in my journey, have
arrived last night. Do you know Don Alvarez ?"
Yes, he was my uncle in my father's life time; he
is now my master."
"And your name is- ?"
"Henriquez de Alvarez. And you are the father of
the pretty English girl, Madeline ?" inquired the boy,
with more animation than he had before exhibited.
I am, and of two others, I hope."
"Elinor and Arthur, oh yes; they are both with
their mamma, and quite well."
"And the house is not far off?"
"Follow the bridle path through this clearing
to the left, till it brings you to the river; cross the
hanging bridge, and you will see the house before
you."
Thank you; but are you not coming home too ?"
inquired the stranger, as he made his horse leap over
the dead jaguar, and emerged from the shade of the over-
hanging trees.
Oh, I shall not be missed if I never return again;
besides I have a duty to perform here first," and he
pointed to the dead animal.






THE PLANTER'S SON.


"I understand; allow me to be the purchaser of
your skin."
"I never sell anything, senhor," replied Henriquez,
proudly.
As you will; for the present, however, farewell,
young senior."
The boy raised his broad sombrero with the formal
courtesy of an hidalgo, as the Englishman, with a wave
of the hand, put his horse to a trot, and pursued the
bridle path across the clearing. Henriquez gazed after
the stranger for a few moments to observe whether or
not he took the right direction, and then stooping to
his task, withdrew his knife from the dead beast, and
muttering, as, with the skill of a huntsman, he began to
flay the carcase.
Sell, no; I'll tan it with sassafras and cassia, and
give it to pretty Madeline, for the housings of her black
mustang. Yes, it shall be for her, for-- "
Henriquez had just completed his task, when the
shrill cry of a child, followed by the shrieks of women,
rang through the wood, scattering the clouds of fire-flies
that, like a shower of spangles, had fallen on the
shadowy parts of the glade.
For a moment the lad stood irresolute, grasping the
skin he had just removed by his left hand, as he lis-
tened as if to assure himself of his fears; then, as he
felt certain that it was the voice of the object uppermost
in his thoughts, he finished his sentence by exclaiming,
"It is Madeline," sprung into the opening, and following
the direction of the sound, soon came in sight of the
cause of all the alarm.
Full in front of him, skimming along the ground
like a lapwing, her light dress and long curls streaming






TRTI PLANTER'S SON.


behind her, was a beautiful young girl rushing directly
on him, as in her alarm she stooped her body to the
ground, closely followed by a drove of cattle, who, with
their horns pressed down to their feet, came tearing
after her, their tails erect in the air, and the whole
snorting and bellowing in a manner sufficiently alarm-
ing to frighten a much older person than the child now
hastening towards Henriquez for shelter or protection.
Had it been any one but the young and frightened
girl, Henriquez would probably have laughed aloud, and
quietly have walked towards the advancing herd; but
being the object who had afforded the only sunshine to
his heart since the death of his father, the fairy-like
playfellow ever present in his mind, and for whose
pleasure he had just meditated an agreeable surprise,
he felt in an instant that any fear that might distress
her, must be at once met and remedied.
He knew well, by the erect and waving tails of the
farm cattle, that they had been suddenly goaded by a
swarm of mosquitoes while being milked, and made wild
with innumerable wounds, had fled in wild confusion to
the nearest lake, into which they were sure to plunge,
knowing that water only would compel the enemy to quit
his hold and retire from their wounded bodies.
Come behind me, senora, and do not be afraid;
quick, get at my back." The next moment he crouched
down and flung the skin over his body; and as the fierce
herd came on, raised himself up as if about to spring on
the nearest animal, when the drove, catching the scent
of their dreaded enemy, first fell back, then swerving
round, scampered off to the paddock or compound, over-
turning children, negresses, and all who had foolishly
followed them.





THE PLANTER'S SON.


"Do not be frightened, senora," cried Henriqnez,
throwing off the skin; "our cows often start off that
way when being milked, the flies sting them so dread-
fully; see here is your father. Do not tremble so, the
herd was only playing. Look round, the greatest mis..
chief done is in the upsetting of the milk cans, and the
flurry the milkers have been thrown into. Don't be
afraid, the cows have all gone back to their compound,
but the cries of the women have alarmed your mamma,
who, with my uncle and aunt, and the servants, are
coming over the bridge to know what has happened."
I am indebted to you again, my brave lad, for your
presence of mind in checking the career of those
irritated animals," said Mr. Staunton, galloping up to
Henriquez and his daughter; I observed the clever use
to which you put the skin, and have to compliment you
on your ready ingenuity. However, you have not only
saved my life to-day, but you have in all probability
saved my child from a serious injury. I will speak to
your uncle and take an early opportunity of showing
you how I esteem your services."
Mr. Staunton was a wealthy English merchant, who
for many years had had commercial dealings with Don
Alvarez, the head of a great mercantile house at Rio.
On the death of Don Pedro Alvarez-the father of Hen-
riquez-his brother Jos6 retired from business, and with
his children returned to the family estate, in the province
of Bahia.
Before leaving the capital Don Jos6 had consigned a
large portion of his merchandise to his old and respected
friend Mr. Staunton, whom he had invited to spend a
year with him at his estate on the St. Francisco. Mr.
Staunton, anxious once more to see an old friend, but






THE PLANTER'S SON.


more to benefit his wife and son, whose health required
a total change of scene, and the advantage of a long
sea voyage, gladly accepted the proffered hospitality;
and embarking his family in one of his own ships, had
safely arrived in Brazil two months before the opening
-f our story.
Sending his wife and family to his friend's mansion,
Mr. Staunton only remained in Rio till his ship was
freighted with the cargo prepared for him, and then
having seen his vessel under weigh, started to rejoin his
friend on his plantation, and where he arrived, as we
have seen, to be beholden both for himself and his
daughter, to Henriqnez, the planter's son.



IX.

VISIT TO THE PLANTATION-THE SUGAR-CANE DESCEIBED-
NATURE OF THE SAP OR SYRUP.

THE following morning Mr. Staunton took the first
opportunity when alone with his friend Don Jose, to
refer to the case of his nephew, Henriquez, by observing-
I am at a loss how adequately to show my grati-
tude and thanks to that brave boy, who in so short a
time rendered me two such signal services, for I per-
ceive he is naturally high spirited and sensitive."
"He is indeed a boy any one might esteem, but,
strange to say, he will not let me love him; nay, he has
taken a positive dislike to me; his wayward temper
being a source of great anxiety to me, and pain to him-
self."
How is that-from what cause ?"






THE PLANTED'S SON.


Simply, I suppose, because I became, on my
brother's death, the proprietor of this estate, which he,
as Pedro's only son, had expected would devolve on
him. And one of the overseers having foolishly told
him that his mother and himself were now my slaves,
the simple boy believed the assertion, and has since mis-
construed everything I do for him."
"Has he a mother living ?"
Yes; but as she preferred the gaieties of the capital
to remaining here after her husband's death, I gave
her my own house at Rio, and have settled on her an
ample annuity for life."
"Then why is Henriquez not with his mother?"
That's part of his waywardness; he will persist in
calling himself my slave, and refuses to be made free as
he calls it, so I allow him to remain and hold the office
of overseer over a certain number of negroes till he
learns to know me better, and understand his own
interests."
"What do you purpose doing with him?"
"I wish you would take him with you to England,
become his guardian, superintend his education, and
whether he adopts the army, the church, or the bar, as
a future means of honourable independence, he shall,
besides what I have already done, have five thousand
pounds to start in life with."
I was just going to ask you to let me adopt him,
and nothing will afford me greater pleasure than taking
his future welfare into my own hands."
"Agreed, with all my heart; the boy is already
attached to Mrs. Staunton and your children, and I
believe he will hail with joy the idea of accompanying
you to England."






TIE PLANTER'S SON.


"There he is in the verandah. Henriquez," said
Mr. Staunton, stepping to the window, have you been
to inquire how the little lady is to-day who you rescued
from the cattle ?"
"I am glad to hear that the young Senora Madelint
is quite well, sir," replied Henriquez, coming forward.
"Thanks to you, my dear boy, she is; and as she
wishes for a stroll over the plantation, I wish, with your
uncle's permission, you would escort her through the
grounds, and show her whatever you think worthy of
observation."
"Do so, Henriquez. The only duty I shall expect
from you in future is, to be the squire of Miss Staunton
on all occasions."
"Am I to go now, sir?" he inquired with a pleased
and happy expression, as he took a step in advance to
the window.
Oh yes, at once."
"Thank you, senor;" and raising the flap of his
sombrero to his uncle and Mr. Staunton, he sprang out
of the verandah and instantly disappeared.

"Oh, Harry look there; there's a poor negro boy
so hungry that he's eating a piece of stick," exclaimed a
blue-eyed intelligent-looking girl, about thirteen years
of age, as she reined in her docile mustang, a beautiful
little creature, slim as a fawn, and with a coat of such
raven blackness that it shone like polished steel.
"Does he look hungry ?" inquired Henriquez, as
with a bright and happy countenance he looked up
archly into the fair girl's face, and with his hand
smoothed down the fur of the jaguar's skin that formed
the saddle-cloth of the mustang, its spotted fur con-






THE PLANTER'S SON.


tasting pleasingly with the black hide of the steed, and
the green colour of the rider's dress.
"No, indeed, he looks fat enough, and happy too;
but then he must be hungry, or he would never eat
wood."
"He is not eating wood, senora," replied the boy,
smiling.
"There now, I shall be angry with you if you call
me senora again; don't I call you Harry, because I
think it's prettier than Henriquez, and then it's so much
shorter; and as I told you before, you must always call
me Madeline."
"But what will Senhor Staunton say if I am so
familiar ?"
Oh, papa will be quite as pleased as I am; be-
sides, did you not save me from being run over by
the cattle only a fortnight ago, and papa too, from this
horrid creature, whose skin you have given me ? and is
not that a double reason why you should call me Made-
line ?" and she looked down on her companion with an
expression that plainly showed she at least thought so.
" But what is he eating ? you don't tell me that," she
demanded, quickly.
A piece of cane."
Cane! What they make chairs of, and papa uses
for a walking stick ? then I was right."
"No, Madeline, neither the one nor the other."
What is it, then? don't tease me so."
Do you like sugar ?"
"Do I not!" and the little lady's face broke into a
perfect mirror of smiles and dimples; Oh yes, I do like
tugar !"
"Well then, 'Sambo' there is eating sugar, and






MHE PLANTER'S SON.


that's the reason he looks so sleek, happy, and con-
tented."
"Nonsense, I know better; sugar does not grow, it
is made."
"Do you know how it is made ?"
"No; I only know that there's lump sugar, which
we use for tea and coffee, and moist sugar, that cook
puts into the pies."
Should you like to know all about sugar, how it
grows, how it is got, and all the things made with and
from it ?" demanded Henriquez, looking up with inte-
rest into the sunny face above him.
Oh yes, very, very much. Oh do tell me."
"Well then, we'll go to the cane-fields first. I 11
tell you from first to last all about it."
Do; I shall be so pleased. Thank you."
"Let me take the mustang's head, and lead him
through these paddy-fields, for the ground is full of holes
and marshy. Sambo," calling to the negro boy, "cut
a line through the cane brake into the plantation."
The negro sprang to his feet in an instant, pushed
the piece of cane he had been chewing into the band of
his trousers, and taking up a small axe, scampered off
in the direction of a large belt of reeds of every shade
of colour, from a pale green to a rich red, and was soon
lost to sight in the dense growth that overtopped him.
Sugar, or rather the ripe juice of the cane," began
Henriquez, as he guided Madeline's pony over the broken
ground, is so refreshing and so nourishing too that a
man may travel a long journey with nothing to eat or
drink except a joint or two of sugar-cane to suck and
chew by the way."
Is it very nice, then ?"






THE PLANTER'S SON.


Delicious; and when hot and exhausted, the most
invigorating draught a person can take. If you do not
object to taste it, you shall presently judge for yourself,
for here we are at the brake which leads to the planta-
tion, and this is the path which Sambo has cut for us."
A few minutes sufficed to carry the youthful couple
to the further extremity of the swamp, on the margin
of which they found the negro boy, who, having completed
the task given him, had gathered a few palmet-to leaves
and ingeniously weaving them together at the end of a
slender bamboo, had constructed a very large if not a
very neat umbrella, which he immediately held over the
head of Madeline, as the little horsewoman emerged
from the shade of the bamboo jungle, so as to shield
her from the scorching heat of the sun in the open plain.
"What'is the use of all those long poles standing in
rows ?" exclaimed Madeline; "look there, Harry, do
tell me what it means; they are just like hop-poles in
England, only there are no hops, and they have got
long ribbons, and hop-poles are not so tall; do tell me
what they are ?"
Look at them well first, and tell me everything you
see," replied her companion.
Oh what a silly I was. Why, they are trees! but
such queer, thin, knotty things, and those long tapes I
declare are leaves; but what are those funny pointed
bushes, like large fir apples, at the top of some of them ?"
"Those are leaves too, but not yet opened; some,
you see, are expanded, showing their small leaves all
the way up."
I see; but you have not told me what the trees are."
They are sugar-canes, and this is the beginning of
my uncle's great plantation. Now you shall taste the



































































.? 4 .. ..


THE SUGAR PLANTATION.






THE PLANTER'S SON.

sap:" and with Sambo's axe, Henriquez laid his hand
on one of the finest canes, and severed the stem a few
inches from the ground, then cutting off about two feet
in length, opened with his knife one of the lowest joints,
and presented the luscious dainty to the inquisitive
young lady, who, following the advice given to her, put
it to her lips and imbibed a draught of such delicious
coolness that her whole countenance grew animated with
the enjoyment of her refreshing beverage.
Oh that is delicious; thank you, Harry, thank you
very much. Now, am I to eat the stick ?" she inquired,
about to carry the cane to her mouth.
No, no, Madeline, don't do that; it's only greedy
niggers who chew the pith; give it to me, and you shall
taste it again presently."
What is a greedy nigger, Harry ?" she asked, inno-
cently, as Henriquez tied the piece of cane to the
bamboo the negro was carrying.
Sambo," he said, laughing, "tell Senora Madelina
what is a greedy nigger."
Me nigger, misse, berry greedy nigger," replied
Sambo, showing all his white teeth as he opened his jaws
to grin a reply.
Are all black people niggers, then ?"
"Yes, misse; dis child nigger, dis child's fadder
nigger, all black men niggers, all black women too;
ebbery ting black, nigger; dat a nigger horse missed
ride."
"What are those niggers cutting down the canes
for?"
I'll tell you that presently when you have heard
how the canes are reared and grown."
"But why are the canes, as you call them, all so






THE PLANTER'S SON.


different? some are much taller than others, some with-
out any leaves, like dead sticks, and some feathered, like
rough pens, all the way up with long narrow leaves."
Those canes which have lost all their leaves and
are all of one colour, are the ripe canes, ready for the
mill, and being fuller of sap or juice, and yielding more
sugar, belong to the kind chiefly cultivated in Brazil;
they have fewer joints than these," he continued, point-
ing to the different varieties, which have from sixty to
eighty, and sometimes ninety joints, are a purple striped
cane, and have a great deal of foliage; while those canes
of an intermediate height and a lighter coloured leaf are
the third variety."
But why do they grow in such regular rows ?" in-
quired Madeline, as they proceeded down one of the
long avenues of canes.
"They are planted so, Madeline; each row is just
five feet apart, and every cane exactly two and a half
feet from the other."
"Then the cane does not grow of itself, but must
be dug and attended to like potatoes, I suppose."
"Yes. Come down this avenue, and you will see
the negroes planting the young shoots;" and turning
the horse's head to the left, Henriquez led his com-
panion where a troop of slaves were busily.employed in
digging deep holes at regular distances, while others
were planting the settings, or slips.
Look here, this piece of stem about two feet long,
with a bud at every joint, is laid lengthways at the
bottom of one of these holes, and covered lightly over
with earth. In a few weeks one of the buds bursts
into a leaf, and comes through the ground; and as i,
grows the earth is packed up round its tender stem,






THE PLANTER'S SON.


when the plant is left to the rain and sun, to grow up
and come to maturity."
"And is this the season for cutting ?"
Yes, March and April are considered with us as
the cane or sugar harvest, but we don't wait for a par-
ticular time; when the cane feels heavy, and is filled
with a sweet sticky juice, it is fit for the mill."
"What are those negroes doing there, Harry, some
with knives, some on their knees, and others with axes,
chopping off heads and tails," cried Madeline, turning
in her saddle, and pointing to a multitude of laughing,
chattering negroes of both sexes, all actively employed
in various branches of the work.
Those men on their knees are cutting the cane
below the ground, as you have seen the gardener do
asparagus; the women and boys run with the canes to
the blocks on the left, where negroes cut off all the
leafy part of the top, which is carried away in those
low carts, to be stacked up in the stock-yard for food
for the horses and oxen; they then turn the cane round,
and chop about half a yard off the bottom, which other
negroes, you see, are taking away to the wood-house,
to be used for fuel for the fires of the hacienda."
Yes, yes, I see all that; but what are those black
tuen running so fast for with the canes they have
hopped ?"
If you turn your mustang's head to the right, you
will see that they carry those canes to a number of men,
who cut them into lengths of about a yard long, which
others gather up into bundles, and run away with to
the mill. Before I tell you the reason of that, I wish
you to taste the juice of the cane again." So saying,
fenriquez untied the piece he had hung to the bamboo,






THE PLANTEr'S SON.


and with his knife opening another joint offered it to
his pretty companion, who, after a momentary draught
of the juice, handed the cane back with looks of astonish-
ment, as she exclaimed-
"Why, it is not the same thing at all, this is wine,
Harry; it was very naughty of you to play tricks, and
give me wine."
The sun did that, Madeline, it was no trick of
mine; that is the way all wine and spirit is made, as I
will show you when we come to the rum-house; that is
called fermentation. In half an hour longer that wine,
as you call it, will be turned into vinegar."
"You are joking, Harry," cried Madeline, opening
her eyes to their fullest extent with a look of wonder-
ment.
"Indeed I am not, Madeline; it is the truth."
What is done with the roots of the cane left in the
ground?" she suddenly demanded, againturning her head
to the left, and evidently doubting what had been
told her.
"They are left to spring up again next year, when
they are called rattoons, and will continue to grow for
seven or eight years; and though every year getting
thinner and smaller, the juice becomes richer and
stronger, and yields a larger quantity of sugar."
But why are the canes cut in some places and not
in others? I thought you would have cut them down
right on, as you do wheat."
"They are so arranged in the planting as to come
into perfection one crop under another, for as the juice
spoils so soon we can only cut as many at a time as the
mill can crush and the clarifiers boil. But it's going
train; and as we have seen all that's necessary about






THE PLANTER'S SON.


growing and planting, we will leave the mills and
sugar-house till to-morrow." And drawing a silver
whistle from his belt, Henriquez blew a shrill note,
when every negro rose from his work, and gathering
up the fagots of canes, rushed off with them from the
plantation.
Why do you leave off work for a little rain ?"
"Because the canes can only be cut in dry weather;
the rain would get into the pith, and weaken the syrup,
so as to injure the sugar. But come, as work is over
I'll race you to the bridge, and bet my silver whistle I
am there before your mustang."
"You won't beat Beauty, I know," she cried tri-
umphantly.
"Yes, I will." And Henriquez and Madeline started
across the clearing for the St. Francisco, and after a
well-contested race of nearly ten minutes, the youth
reached the suspension bridge that led to the hacienda,
about twenty yards in front of the mustang and its
graceful rider.



III.

THE AGOUTI-CABBAGE-TREE-THE CANE-MILLS-BOILING THE
SYRUP, AND MAKING THE SUGAR.

" O, Harry, what are those funny little creatures,
something like Guinea-pigs, that are running in and
out among the sugar-canes ? do catch me one, and let me
look at it," exclaimed Madeline, as she suddenly drew
in her pony on the skirts of a large sugar plantation.
Her companion, who at his uncle's desire had once





THE PLANTER'S SON.


more mounted his own mustang, instead of replying to
his companion's remark, rose in his stirrups, and
shouting at the top of his voice, made such a noise that
the flock of little animals started off in all directions,
some plunging into the ground, and others flying across
the broad savannah.
Oh, you naughty boy," cried Madeline, pouting,
you have frightened all the pretty things away, and I
wanted to see them eating their breakfasts, pretty
dears."
"If you only knew how destructive those agoutes
are," replied Henriquez, and what a deal of mischief
they do, you would not call them pretty dears."
"What is their name, agouti ?"
"Yes; they resemble what they call in your country
rabbits."
Are those Brazilian rabbits ? What a shame, then,
to drive them away."
Those little creatures live almost entirely on the
roots of the rattoons, and in a few days will destroy an
acre of canes."
"Do you see that tree, Madeline, with the wide
arms and the long drooping leaves like ostrich feathers ?"
That immense tree, so very, very tall?"
Yes; look at the very top, and tell me what you
see."
Oh, what is it, Harry? something white, and
round, and big, like-yes, like a cauliflower."
"Well, that white something," replied Henriquez,
laughing, "tastes just like almonds; but how high do
you think that tree is ?"
"I don't know; ten times taller than papa ?"
"More than thirty times; it is two hundred feet






THM PLANTER'S SON.


high. I mean to climb up it and get you some of that
almond to eat."
You shall not do anything so foolish. I won't let
you."
Oh, but I will; look." And touching his mustang
he galloped up to the tree, suddenly reined in his horse,
sprang erect in the saddle, and before Madeline could
reach the spot, bounded on one of the dwarf branches,
and ran up from blighted knot to knot, till Madeline,
through her tears and apprehension, beheld him stand
erect on the highest limb.
After cutting off some portion of the object he had
indicated, Henriquez, in the same easy and confident
manner in which he had ascended, came rapidly down
the tree, and dropping into his saddle, approached his
companion, extending a piece of the cocoa-nut-like
substance, saying, "Here, Madeline, taste how nice
it is."
"I am very angry with you for frightening me so.
I told you not to go."
Don't be afraid of me, Madeline, I can climb any
tree. Is it not nice ?" he inquired, as she began to eat
the substance given to her.
"It is indeed just like almonds. What is it ?"
It's a cabbage."
Nonsense."
It is indeed. We call this the cabbage-tree. This
is the young leaf, and that round thing you see up there
in the centre is the cabbage, or fruit, which, when
boiled, is eaten with salt meat like a vegetable. But
now let us go and look at the mills, and see how sugar
is made." And putting their horses to a canter, the
youthful pair soon found themselves at the back of the





THE PLANTER'S SON.


plantation, and approaching the busiest part of the
manufactory.
"I don't see any windmills, or watermills either,"
she observed, after a survey of the country.
The Brazilian sugar-mills are very different things
from either, Madeline. Ours are turned by mules, and
not by wind or water."
Cannot sugar be got from anything but cane ?"
"Yes, honey is a kind of sugar, and was used to
sweeten and make strong liquor with before sugar was
obtained from the cane. Since then chemists have
found out that sugar can be got from the sap of all
vegetables. Palm, birch, maize, parsnips, and ash trees
yield it. The Americans make sugar from the maple-
tree, and the French have made it from beetroot.
But here comes Sambo, with a proper umbrella this
time," he cried, as the young negro suddenly darted
from among the canes with a large round awning nearly
flat, with crimson fringe, fitted to the end of a long
bamboo.
"Oh, Harry, what are those men doing there,
thumping at something ?" she inquired, when the plea-
sant shade enabled her to look about with comfort.
"Let us go and see it; it is one of our clumsiest
mills, and is only used when the sugar must be made
at once. You see, it is something like a mortar," he
continued, as they reached the rude awning under which
the work was being carried on, "only it has got a
groove at the bottom for the juice to run off by into
those buckets, and this stone they pull up and let fall is
the pestle. Look, as Caesar puts in those chopped
pieces of cane, the stone falls on them, and all the juice
is beaten out and runs into the bucket, when the splin-





THE PLANTER'S SON.


ters of cane, which the planters call waste, and the
negroes trash, are scraped out, and fresh pieces of cane
put in."
"But what do they do with the trash, and where do
they take the buckets of juice ?" inquired his inquisitive
companion, nothing escaping her quick and vigilant eyes.
Oh, the waste is very valuable, both for manure
and fuel. What those boys do with the buckets you
will see when we come to that row of huts and sheds
yonder. This," he observed, as they. halted in front of
a line of sheds, and pointed to a large narrow frame of
wood, like an immense table with sides, having three
rollers bound with iron hoops fitted into it, so as to
turn round, when by means of wheels and cranks they
were set in motion,-" this is one of the sugar-mills,
and if you watch from your saddle, I will explain how
it works." And throwing his bridle to Sambo, Henri-
quez stepped into the shed, where numbers of negroes
were all busily employed. Two negroes you see, called
'feeders,' put in the pieces of cane from the faggots at
the upper end," he continued, explaining what the men
were doing. Spreading them out smooth, the teeth
in the first roller drag them forward, crushing and
passing them on to the second and third roller, squeez-
ing out all the juice, which runs off into this vat, by
these pipes let into the lower end. Now, you see, they
are taking out the splinters or waste, and the others at
the top are feeding the mill again. And this goes on
till all the cane is crushed by the three mills you see
here at work."
"Yes, yes, I see all that, Harry; but I don't see
anybody turning those round,-what do you call them?
rollers. How is that done ?"






THE PLANTER'S SON.


"Now then you can see what moves them," cried
Harry, as he opened a door at the back, and exposed a
double yoke of mules, slowly circling round an upright
post.
"What are they emptying into that cistern ?"
That is the juice from the canes you saw them
pounding in the mortar mill, and is of the same colour
as that from this mill. Do you remember what hap-
pened to the cane you tasted yesterday ?"
"Yes, it turned into wine and then into vinegar."
"Well, if that juice were to remain for twenty mi-
nutes untouched, it would ferment and become like wine,
and in another twenty minutes would be changed into
vinegar."
Then you couldn't get any sugar ?"
"Not a bit."
How do you prevent it then from doing so ?"
"By boiling."
By boiling What good does that do ?"
It turns the liquid into a solid, and makes sugar
out of syrup. But let me help you off your horse, and
if you can bear the heat of the sheds for a few minutes,
I'll show you how it is done." And gallantly going up
to the young lady, he carefully lifted her from the saddle,
while Sambo, who had taken the nigger horse," as
he called the black pony, exclaimed in a burst of
delight-
"Oh, massa, Massa Henriquez! emu! emu! make
him hurry, massa; emu no stay," as he pointed to some
moving dots seen at a distance.
Oh, they are safe enough for half an hour," replied
the boy, as turning to Madeline he inquired, are you
fond of hunting ?"





THE PLANTER'S SON.


I don't know, I never did hunt. But what is emu?"
It's another name for the American ostrich. They
are sure to stop to feed for some time, so come along
and see how sugar's made first."
"Dear me, what an immense boiler," observed Ma-
deline, holding up her hands in amazement, as they
stopped before a broad flat copper, from which steam
was beginning to rise, from a fire crackling below it.
"This is called a pan or clarfier, and is the largest
on the plantation. This one holds a thousand gallons of
syrup.
What white stuff is that the negroes are scattering
into it ?"
Quick as they are in boiling the juice as soon as
collected, it will sometimes get a little sour; so to kill
that tartness, that white powder or lime, called temper,
is stirred into it. Besides destroying the acid, the lime
makes all the grounds, bits of cane, and impurities
come to the top in a scum.
"The fire drives off a great deal of the water, and when
enough has been boiled away, by putting this wooden
gutter under the tap in the clarifier-see, here it is-it
all runs into this large shallow copper, called the evapo-
rating pan, where it is again boiled, and fresh lime
added to bring up more impurities, which are at this
time carefully skimmed off with large iron spoons."
"But, Harry, how do you know when it is boiled
enough ?"
I'll show you; come here, Madeline, look here,"
and he took her to a pan from which the fire had just
been drawn, when taking a plate of copper, he placed a
few drops of the boiling syrup on its cold surface,
where, in a few seconds, it congealed into a mass like






THE PLANTER'S SON.


honey. "Now, if this is boiled enough," continued
Henriquez, "when I touch this with my finger, it
should draw out into long threads like silk; so it does;
do you see ?" and he displayed a thread of crystallized
sugar like spun glass. That's the way I make my
barley sugar; you shall have some to-morrow."
What is in these tubs just like wet sand ?" asked
Madeline, moving to a row of wooden coolers.
"That is the sugar in the first stage after being run
off from the evaporating pan; the syrup hardens into
that condition."
"And what are these men doing, shovelling it into
those great casks, and what is that dripping out at the
bottom ?"
This wet sugar, which you call sand, is put into
that row of casks, the bottom of each being bored full
of holes, that the dark syrup still left in it may run off
into those vats below them. That black looking stuff
is called molasses, and sometimes treacle."
Is that treacle !" exclaimed Madeline; that is to
eat on bread, is it not, Harry ?"
"No, we never eat it, we make rum of it," he replied
with a slight tone of contempt.
"Rum, out of treacle! nonsense, I don't think so,
and you are laughing at me."
"Have you forgotten the wine out of the sugar-cane,
and the vinegar ?"
"No; but is it really true ?"
I always speak the truth," he replied, proudly.
"Well, don't be cross, I didn't mean anything. How
long must the sugar stay dripping there before it is
quite dry ?"
"About a month altogether; when all the molasses







THE FLATER'S SON.


have run off, a little water is poured over the top of the
sugar, which washes away any that might be left in it.
It is then broken up, and packed in those big casks
they call hogsheads."
"Massa! massa! emu go!" cried Sambo from the
extremity of the shed.
"Come, Madeline, we will leave the refining of the
sugar till to-morrow, and have a scamper after those
ostriches, what do you say, emu hunting is such
sport ?"
Oh I should like it so very much."
Henriquez, without another word, grasped his com-
panion by the waist, and lifted her into the saddle, and
led her mustang some distance from the huts, then
leaping into his seat, and pointing in the direction of the
still visible birds, encouraged her by voice and gesture
to join in the pursuit; while Sambo, knowing his
services as shade-bearer would be no further required,
threw down his parasol, followed rapidly after, and
with such haste, that before many minutes had elapsed
he was keeping his place between both animals, while a
flock of some eight or ten ostriches, with expanded
wings, only a few hundred yards in advance, were seen
skimming along the plain, and travelling at an extra-
ordinary speed.


YI-
AN EMU-HUNT-CATCHING AN OSTRICH WITH THE LASSO-
THE GUACHO'S WARFARE-REFINING SUGAR.

So hot and exciting was the chase, that neither of the
mounted pursuers had as yet hbd time to say another






THE PLANTER'S SON.


word. They had followed the flock for more than a
mile, before Henriquez, turning to address Madeline,
perceived the young negro as he kept his steady posi-
tion between, but a little behind the mounted hunters.
"Notice, Madeline," cried Henriquez, pointing
ahead, in how perfect a line the birds keep straight
before us, I mean to have that big fellow in the centre,
he's the captain and parent of the band, and when I
have caught him I'll give him to you to tame. Sambo,
my lasso."
Now see, Madeline, I'll stop him before he reaches
that fancied shelter," at the same instant he rose in his
stirrups, and launching the lasso with all his force, suc-
ceeded in lodging the noose round the emu's leg and
flinging him on his back; but unfortunately, at the same
moment, his horse stumbled, and before the rider had
time to recover his seat, flung him for some distance
over his head. Madeline believing he must have been
killed by the fall, gave a cry of terror, sprang off her
mustang, and rushing to her prostrate companion, sat
down by his side, and began with the utmost haste to
exert herself in his recovery, at the same moment the
negro darted forward in hot pursuit, for the lasso
having escaped from Henriquez's hand, the emu rose, and
taking advantage of his liberty, again spread his wings
in rapid flight. Sambo, however, was too active for
him, and after a race of a few hundred yards contrived
to throw himself on the cord, and jerking it with all his
strength, flung the ostrich once more on his back, then
rising and casting himself on its body, so intimidated
the emu, that when he had removed the lasso from the
leg, and secured it on the neck, and it rose to its feet,
Sambo leaped on its shoulders between the wings, and






THE PLANTER'S SON.


the bird became perfectly tractable, and when after-
wards the boy turned his feathery steed in the direction
of his fallen, and, as he believed, uninjured master, he
looked like a young Arab of the desert.
Though for an instant stunned by his fall, the grass
was so elastic, that by the time Madeline had reached
him, Henriquez had recovered his consciousness, and
when she raised his head, and with tears inquired if he
was hurt, he was able to sit up and answer her, though
his first exclamation was one of mortification and annoy-
ance; the result of shame at having performed his feat
so clumsily, just, too, after boasting what he was going
to do; besides, he was vexed at the loss of his captive.
It was not your fault, Harry; I saw the pony
stumble, and you did catch the bird," she said sooth-
ingly ; so don't be vexed. I am so glad, so very glad you
have not been hurt; don't think any more about the rope
and ostrich, nasty, ugly thing; look there, if that is not
Sambo riding on the bird, and leading my runaway
Beauty. Did you ever see anything so ridiculous ?" and
she laughed with unrestrained joyousness at the gro-
tesque appearance of the boy, as, on his extraordinary
looking steed, he came flying along, dragging Made-
line's mustang, who, terrified at the unusual group that
had him in charge, was rearing and snorting with every
mark of terror, while compelled to follow the heedless
Sambo and the powerful bird.
"Here, massa, me catch him, but him berry strong,"
observed the negro, as giving the lasso a powerful twist,
he halted the emu by nearly garrotting him with the
noose. You put misse top of her hoss, and let dis ere
nigger ride home where him is. Here, misse, here
buckra feather, one, three, two, dye red, bru, brack for






TIE PLANTER'S SON.


misse hat," and in his exultation, Sambo extended his
hand behind, and clutched the bird's fine tail-feathers
to show how valuable was the prize. But evidently
resenting the liberty taken with his plumage, or deem-
ing this the most intolerable indignity of the day, the
bird brought down his sharp bill with such force on that
most sensitive part of a negro's person, his shins, that


the boy, in the momentary pain inflicted, drew up his
legs with such a sudden movement, as to throw him
from his balance. The emu at the same time completing
his discomfort, rolled him from his back, and instantly
darted off at an increased speed, dragging Sambo, who
still retained a hold of the lasso, afterhim over the plain
like a log of ebony; the laughter excited by the absur-
dity of the proceeding, with the struggling boy's endea-





THE PLANTER'S SON.


vour to regain his feet, from which he was repeatedly
jerked, only to be whirled along now on his face, the
next moment on his back or side, till again gaining
his knees, he was shot off them in an instant, and
whirled over the grass and uneven plain like a boat
in a rough sea.
It was some time before Henriquez was able, from
his immoderate laughter, to place Madeline in her saddle
or mount his own horse and follow in the direction in
which the emu and its prisoner were already fast dis-
appearing. Before the pair, however, with all their
haste, could overtake the fugitives, the negro had, by a
desperate effort, contrived to regain his feet, and though
bruised and exhausted, he, by his ape-like bounds, con-
trived eventually to leap with surprising cleverness on
the irritated bird's back; when he began with his long
bony heels to kick and spur the unfortunate emu, who,
feeling the hopelessness of all further resistance, at once
gave in, and relaxing its pace, became perfectly obedient.
Massa Henriquez, show misse how de Guacho ride
hi hoss, dis here nigger cut 'im golly long rattoon for
'im spear," exclaimed Sambo, looking up in his master's
face for an approval, and taking the smile he saw the
suggestion excited, for an assent, instantly jerked the
emu's head round, and delivering a few blows on the
head with his fist, and a stab on each side with his
long heels, set the bird off at a speed that soon carried
emu and rider beyond the range of sight.
"That's just the thing, Sambo," cried Henriquez,
springing from his horse as the negro returned, and
divesting his mustang of saddle and bridle, untying the
ribbons with which his mane had been so tastefully orna-
mented, and scattering the long hair loose, so as to give





THE PLANTER'S SON.


the animal as wild an appearance as possible, and taking
the long bamboo from Sambo's hand, said-
"I am going to show you how the Guachos, or
natives of the Pampas, ride their horses, and go to war.
This cane you must suppose to be my spear. These
Guachos are the best horsemen in the world, and will
go at full speed hanging by their toes and teeth; this
way." And taking off his shoes and stockings, and
embroidered jacket, he began to illustrate the manner
in which the Indian and Guacho of the plains cling to
their wild horses. "He grasps the hair of the tail be-
tween his toes, and taking a handful of the mane in
his left hand, hangs this way along the flank of his
horse, keeping his spear close to his body," he remarked,
throwing himself in an instant into the position described.
" The great art is to come on the enemy unawares, and
when they believe it is only a drove of wild horses ap-
proaching, and then, when fairly upon them, each man
leaps on his horse's back, and launches his fatal spear."
,And almost before he had finished speaking, Henriquez
had flung himself out of his former attitude, and sitting
erect, poised his bamboo as if about to hurl the javelin.
"But you cannot ride without saddle or bridle,
Harry ?"
Oh, can't I; just look here;" and grasping his
horse by the ear, and driving his heels into his flanks,
the conscious beast darted off like the wind, and horse
and rider were soon beyond reach or hearing. After
scouring the plain for a considerable distance with his
head almost resting on the horse's counter, and his body
.contracted into the smallest compass, he turned his
-animal without once checking his speed, and twining
.his legs under his mustang's neck, flung himself back-





THE PLAhTEI'S SON.


wards, and thus extended on the ridge of his horse, went
through all the evolutions with the spear practised by
the Indians, till approaching the spot where Madeline
stood, he leaped round so as to change his position in a
moment, sitting with his back to the horse's neck,
while he launched his bamboo as if against a pursuing
enemy.
While Madeline, in her enjoyment of Henriquez's
skill, was waving her handkerchief with delight, the
rider had induced his docile mustang to raise his head
in such a position that, making a seat of his neck, and
adjusting the different pieces of cane he had snatched
from Sambo, he drew a piece of deer's sinew from his
pocket, and tying it to both ends of the bamboo, soon
strung a very servicable bow, the other pieces being in-
tended for arrows. No sooner had Henriquez prepared
his implements than he placed himself at full length
along the back of his horse, when fitting his reeds to
his bow, he shot three or four in rapid succession almost
vertically; then drawing up his legs, and placing the
arch of the bow against his feet, and fitting a larger
piece of cane as an arrow, drew the cord with both
hands up to his chin, when the missile flew with such
velocity that it was impossible to trace its flight, so
great was the force with which it had been propelled;
another and another followed with equal force till all
his arrows had been expended.
Flinging away his bow, Henriquez now placed him-
self in every conceivable attitude, upon the back, at the
side, and actually under the belly of his horse, some-
times hanging by the mane and tail, or varying his
evolutions by running, as if for shelter, at the shoulder
of his steed, and then in a moment bounding back into






THE PLANTER'S SON.


his seat; till dashing past Madeline, he threw himself to
the earth as if dead, when the well-trained mustang
checked himself in the midst of his flight, and seizing
the prostrate body by the girth of his trousers, galloped
a few times in wild speed round Madeline, who, but for
the grin of delight on Sambo's face, would have shrieked
in terror, when he suddenly paused, and gently laying
down his burthen, stood perfectly still till his master,
with a laugh, sprang from the ground, and caressed
him for his exertions.
Oh, Harry, Harry! who taught you all those strange
and wonderful tricks ?" exclaimed his companion in
delight, hurrying up to his side.
They are not tricks, Madeline; they are the war
practices of the Indians; and a Guacho, who was half
an Indian, and the most famous rider of all the Brazilian
Pampas, taught them to me, because my mother was the
daughter of a great cacique."
This is the refining-house," observed Henriquez,
as soon after he led Madeline into a long series of open
sheds. "The finest moist sugar is mixed with water
and boiled with lime, eggs, or bullock's blood, to bring
to the top all impurities, again boiled, evaporated, and
crystallized till it looks like snow. This white sugar
is then put into those conical moulds-like large ex-
tinguishers with their points downwards, for the moisture
to run off through a hole at the apex; a.cake of clay is
then pressed on the broad top, and a little water poured
on the clay; this water works its way through the whole
mass, carrying down any syrup that may adhere to the
sugar, and which, if left, would discolour the loaf.
Those long frames, full of rows of pointed moulds, are
the cakes standing to dry and drp. They are, last of






THE PLANTER'S SON.


all, taken to the ovens and baked, when they are packed
up and sent to Europe as loaf or refined sugar. Look
round, and you will see all the operations I have de-
scribed going on, for, as the place is unpleasantly hot,
we will not go into it; you see them here boiling,
evaporating, filling, and claying; and yonder, where the
negroes are so lightly dressed, is the bakehouse.



V.
HENRIQUEZ REWARDEr-THE SEPARATTON--RETURN TO
ENGLAND-AND CONCLUSION.
IN due course of time a long-anticipated picnic party
to the Salts Licks took place, and the active Henriquez
had a favourable opportunity, by the capture of a young
bull with the lasso and an antelope with the bolas, to re-
deem his character as an expert huntsman in the eyes
of Madeline, and afford gratification to the whole party
who witnessed his coolness and ability. At the inter-
cession of Madeline, the bull was allowed to escape and
rejoin its companions of the startled herd; but the ante-
lope, which he had caught expressly for Madeline that
she might tame it, looked so earnestly in her face and
seemed so helpless and desolate, that the tender-hearted
girl could not bear to part with so interesting an object
gazing at her with its large, intelligent eyes, and there-
fore begged that she might be allowed to keep and make
L friend of her gazelle, as she called the graceful young
antelope, that, perfectly subdued by having its legs
suddenly taken from under it by the bolas, crouched
timidly beside its young mistress, secured only by a
band of vine withes, from which Madeline plucked the





THE PLANTER'S SON.


ripe bunches of fruit, and from time to time fed the
dependent creature.
This, to the young people, great day of enjoyment
being passed, and Henriquez having shown Arthur and
Elinor all the marvels and mysteries of the cane planta-
tion and sugar-houses, and explained to them and Made-
line how rum was made, by first fermenting a mixture
of molasses and water, and then distilling the liquor,
the product being the spirit; he took the party to the
woods, showed them the beautiful birds whose gorgeous
plumage of black, scarlet, and yellow, and almost of
every shade and mixture of colour, makes the dark forest
seem alive with brilliant hues, and pointed out the tiny
doves that fall like flakes of snow on the tops of the high
trees, whose almost black foliage, throws out their white
plumage in bold contrast. From the woods and
orchards he had taken them to the indigo factory, shown
all the process of planting, growing, and picking of the
cotton plant, the discomforts of rice-setting; and then,
having seen all the farming operations of the estate, not
omitting the cultivation of the maize or Indian corn,
there remained nothing more that Henriquez could
explain, except the flowers and fruits of the gardens and
orchards round the hacienda.
In this manner several months passed away in im-
parting useful instruction and in the most delightful
rambles, which served to bind the youthful party to-
gether in the closest bonds of harmony and affection;
the only cloud that obscured the happiness of the young
people was the fear of an approaching separation-a
fear which, on Henriquez's side, amounted at times to a
state of painful distress.
It was not till within a month of the departure of






THE PLANTER'S SON.


Mr. Staunton, as the two families of Don Alvarez and
his English visitors sat over their wine and fruit in the
cool verandah of the mansion, the younger children
playing on the sloping lawn among the beds of exquisite
flowers, while Henriquez, Arthur, and Madeline, sitting
on ottomans behind the older members of the party,
engaged on some youthful play or recreation, when Mr.
Staunton, peeling a shaddock Henriquez had just
handed him, observed-
"Harry, my boy, how would you like to go with me
to England, to be in fact my son, to live with me, and
become one of my family; what do you say; should
you like it?"
The question was put so abruptly that for an instant
Henriquez hardly understood the meaning of the words;
he, however, dropped the tempting fruit he was prepar-
ing for Madeline, and rose to his feet, his eyes dilating,
and his cheeks becoming almost white, then flushing of
a bright scarlet under the influence of his excited feel-
ings: but when, after a momentary pause, Mr. Staun-
ton repeated, Should you like it?" he was about to
hasten forward when his hand was seized behind by
some soft pressure, and the words, Say yes, say yes,"
from Madeline, fell on his ears.
Casting a glance of tender sympathy on the speaker,
Henriquez came forward, and seizing Mr. Staunton's
hand, said, with strong emotion-
Oh sir, do not deceive me Without any dis-
respect to my uncle, whom since your coming I have
learned to respect and love, there is nothing in the
world that would give me so much pleasure as going
with you to England, and proving myself worthy of
being thought deserving of your protection and notice."






THE PLANTER'S SON.


How would you be able to maintain yourself; what
would you do for a living?" inquired Mr. Staunton,
without removing his hand from the boy's grasp.
Work, sir; work night and day. I am young and
strong, and I am sure I will gain your respect."
You have got it already, my boy, and my esteem
with it," replied Mr. Staunton, patting the youth on the
back. "I only put the question to try you; you are
henceforth my adopted son; your uncle has consented
to my taking you with me, and we have arranged be-
tween us for your future prospects in life."
The delight of Henriquez at the intelligence of such
unlooked-for good fortune, coupled with the kindly
words of the speaker and the looks of affection and
tenderness in the eyes of his uncle and aunt, and espe-'
cially of Mrs. Staunton, quite deprived him of all power
to express the feelings of gratitude that rose to his
heart, and for a moment kept him in a state of speech-
less amazement.
Rousing himself, with an effort, he said with emotion,
"I thank you more than I can say." Then turning to
Don Alvarez, he continued, Uncle, I will endeavour
to merit your love by my future conduct; you have
given me the first wish of my heart."
Madeline, who had hurried out of the verandah, at
that moment returned with Elinor, whom she had in-
formed of what had taken place, and now in their delight
at the news, for they had all grown to love him as a
brother, rushed joyfully up to Henriquez to congratu-
late and rejoice with him on the fortunate event that
was in future to make him one of their own family.
From that time forward, every day was as a new
era of enjoyment and happiness to the young people;






THE PLANTER'S SON.


and no opportunity was allowed to escape in which
Henriquez did not explain something new to the brother
and sisters in reference to one or other of the planta-
tions, showed them how sugar candy was made, by
pouring the syrup down threads till it crystallized, and
barley sugar by drawing the syrup out into sticks, and
cutting them into uniform lengths, till there remained
nothing further to explain in respect to the use or pre-
paration of that necessary article, sugar.
A fortnight before the time of departure both
families repaired to the capital to make preparations for
the voyage, and allow Henriquez an opportunity of
passing the last few days of their stay in Brazil in the
society of his mother. At length every arrangement
being made, the family embarked for England.
As the taut merchantman moved slowly from the
shore, and neared the entrance of the bay, Mr. Staunton,
who, with his family and a few other passengers, stood
on deck admiring the extreme beauty of the scene, took
occasion to impart to Madeline, and particularly Hen-
riquez, all the points in the magnificent landscape, and
explain the nature of the different objects perpetually
rising on the sight, in that the most lovely situation on
the entire southern continent of America.
Oh, papa !" exclaimed Madeline, in a burst of ad-
miration, what a soft and lovely scene! it seems almost
too beautiful to be real."
"It is indeed a charming spot," replied her father.
" Those small islands, clothed with every species of
vegetation, from the tallest palm to the smallest shrub,
and so densely covered with foliage, with wreaths of
wild grape, garlands of flowers, and blossoms of every
hue and shape, that the margin of the land on every





THE PLANTER'S SON.


side seems lost in overhanging boughs and petals that
float round their edge; while so clear is the water of
the bay that it gives back, as from a mirror, every
colour flung upon it."
Oh, Harry, look at those lovely little birds, with
wings of blue and gold, that sit on the brim of that
cluster of water-lilies," cried Madeline, drawing her
companion's attention to what had attracted her ob-
servation.
They are not birds, Madeline," replied her father;
"those gorgeous insects, nearly as large as humming-
birds, but whose bodies are so light that they do not
bend the delicate flowers, on which they rest to sip the
dew, are butterflies. But see, we are passing the forts
which guard the mouth of the Bay of Rio Janeiro, and
yonder, through that narrow opening, Harry, you see,
for the first time, the South Atlantic."
"Is that the wide Atlantic ?" exclaimed the youth,
his eyes glistening at the prospect of entering on that
mighty ocean.
It is; take your last view of this calm and lovely
scene, for in half an hour we shall double the headlands,
and before night shall have made so good an offing, that
I expect by sunrise to have caught the 'trades;' and if
so, we may probably run to the latitude of the Azores
without taking in a reef, tightening a brace, or touching
a line in the rig of the ship."
I wish, sir, you would tell me something about
the trade winds, and what is the cause of winds and
tempests," asked Henriquez, as his guardian concluded.
"Willingly, Harry; but you must wait till we catch
them first," replied Mr. Staunton, laughing, "and then
I will gladly explain the theory."






THE PLANTER'S SON.


What is the difference, Mr. Staunton, between the
monsoons and the trade-winds ?" inquired Henriquez
the following afternoon, when all her hamper set, alow
and aloft, the ship pursuing a north-north-east course
before the steady breeze, held her solitary way over the
long, heavy swell of the Atlantic.
"Only this, Harry, that the periodical winds that
blow for six months in one direction, and the next six
months in the opposite quarter, are called monsoons
when they blow in the Pacific and trade-winds in the
Atlantic Ocean, though the force of the monsoon is
much greater than that of the trade."
What is the force, sir ?"
The velocity or speed at which the wind travels."
Can you measure the speed of the wind as you can
of a horse, sir ?"
Certainly; wind travels at the rate of from one
mile to a hundred miles an hour: when the wind blows
on land from eighty to ninety miles an hour, it tears
up trees, throws down houses and steeples, strips plant-
ations, and is called, what you have no doubt often
witnessed, a hurricane."
And at sea, sir, what are they called ?"
Tempests in the Atlantic, and typhons in the Indian
and China seas ?"
"Can you tell the young people," observed Mrs.
Staunton, for the whole party were as usual on deck,
"how wide is the track the wind makes ?"
The track of the wind, or its breadth," resumed
that gentleman, is generally reckoned at from 100 to
250 miles. You must not suppose, however, that tem-
pests and hurricanes blow in straight lines; all storms
are now known to blow in circles, the circles gradually





THE PLANTER'S SON.


widening from where the tempest begins to where it
breaks."
Then storms and tempests are only whirlwinds ?"
"Nothing more, Harry."
Mr. Staunton had been so far correct in his remarks,
that they might cross the Atlantic without taking in a
reef, that for more than a week not a sail had been
altered, or any sensible change made in the trim of the
ship. Towards the tenth evening, however, an unusual
gloom settled on all around, and a sullen leaden colour
seemed to envelop both sky and water, the breeze died
away till the sails hung loose and flapping against the
masts; at the same time the darkness became so in-
tense, that it was impossible to see half the length of
the vessel.
As the darkness increased the swell or waves of the
Atlantic fell, till the ocean became as tranquil as a
lake, and nothing could be heard through the general
gloom but that low mysterious sigh of the vast ocean,
that at such moments falls on the ear with an almost
supernatural sound.
This sudden darkness and unusual stillness of the
air and water," observed Mr. Staunton, addressing his
fellow-passengers and family, as they grouped together
by the taffrail, and speaking in a low and hesitating
voice, "foretells a storm; at least, I have generally
found it to be so in these latitudes."
Scarcely had the words passed his lips, when, as
if by magic, the ocean, that had lain like a sea of ink
under the ship's quarter, was lighted up by millions of
flashing atoms of fire, like tiny globes of light, which,
bursting from the pitchy darkness of the water, seemed
to pave the bosom of the deep with countless myriads of





THE PLANTER'S SON.


stars, while, as far as the eye could penetrate, the whole
surface of the ocean seemed covered with these twink-
ling sparks of fire.
The burst of admiration and surprise with which the
youthful part of the company surveyed these wonders
of the deep had hardly found expression, when Mr.
Staunton directing their attention overhead, they beheld
every brace and shroud, halyard and block, the whole
hamper of the ship, like one vast web of silver, as the
meteoric light flitted from point to point, and flashed
along the rigging.
Mr. Staunton had hardly time to explain to the party
that this sparkling appearance in the sea was caused by
numbers of anunalculs giving off their phosphorescence
like glow-worms, and inform them that the electricity in
the air was causing the peculiar luminous appearance
on the booms and gear of the ship, when the captain's
voice was heard calling up the watch, and ordering all
the ladies and young people below. The next instant,
as suddenly as they had appeared, every spark of light
on sea and mast had vanished.
"All hands aloft, strike topmasts, all sail in!"
shouted the captain through the darkness, as a low
moaning sound came creeping over the water. Steady
there; ease her off half a point; look out, it's coming !"
The next moment, with a rush and hiss, and a deafening
roar of waters, a terrific wave struck the ship, throwing
her on her 0eam ends, while wave on wave broke in
foam and thunder over the prostrate vessel, that, caught
in a white squall, was flung for several minutes like a
log on the boiling deep.
By good seamanship, however, the barque soon rose
on her keel, and the squall having passed off almost as





THE PLANTER'S SON.


suddenly as it came on, sail was once more made, and
the gallant craft was again seen rising and falling on
the long Atlantic swell, before the steady breath of the
trade-winds.
But, papa, you have not told us what is the cause
of wind, for I suppose there is a reason for that as for
every other circumstance in nature," observed Madeline,
a few days after the night of the squall.
"The causes of all kinds of wind, whether a gentle
breeze or a violent storm, are the same in every case,
and they are electricity and heat. The heat of the sun
causes the air to expand, become lighter, and rise higher;
upon which the colder air rushes in to fill up the empty
space."
"And is that the cause of the rushing noise we hear
the wind make when it blows hard ?" inquired Hen-
riquez, who had listened with great interest to Mr.
Staunton's explanations.
It is so, Harry; and according to the coldness of
the air and the space left by the warm air, the noise
made is either a sighing gale or a deafening tempest."
The cry of Land ho !" ten days later brought every
inmate of the cabin on deck to witness the first of the
Azores, as the island of St. Michael broke on the view
with its volcanic hills, fringed to their base with every
variety of tropical tree and plant, and observe the multi-
tude of beautiful land birds that flocked about the
rigging of the ship. The surf on the outer reef,
however, was too heavy, the weather too doubtful, and
the wind blowing too strong to justify the captain in
stopping at the Azores, which, one by one, were soon
lost in the misty horizon, as under close-reefed topsails
the ship went staggering on before the freshening gale.





THE PLANTER'S SON.


A favourable breeze, though blowing fresh and
squally, soon placed her in the chops of the channel,
from which time Henriquez never quitted the deck, so
anxious was he to catch the first sight of England, and
note all the headlands as they came in sight; and as the
Lizard was sighted, Falmouth passed, the Needles
threaded, the Isle of Wight skirted, and Southampton
left behind, with Dover and the Forelands, and the
majestic Thames, after a nine weeks' voyage, reached in
safety, the delight of the youth was unbounded. The
next day, for the first time since leaving Rio, the good
ship dropped her anchor off Gravesend, from whence
Mr. Staunton and his family proceeded by rail to
London, leaving the vessel to float up to her moorings
with the succeeding tide.
All that Mr. Staunton had promised his friend in
respect of Henriquez that gentleman faithfully per-
formed, the future career of the family and the young
Brazilian being marked by a large share of prosperity
and happiness.




























W.

xI-









































.BULS ECAP























P1 Li U 1i CE LS It

_ Lu'VE w 'N.

BY L. A. HALL.

-4-

A PEEP INTO THE FAMILY CIRCLE AT HOMEIIURST,

"Is that my own darling ?" inquired Mrs. Osborne,
as she rested languidly in her arm-chair by the fireside,
and heard the door of the drawing-room opened gently
behind her.
"No, mamma, it is only me," replied a young girl of
about fourteen or fifteen, as she entered the room and
approached her mother's chair.
"Are your studies already ended?" asked Mrs.
Osborne.
"Yes, mamma; and, before going out, I came in to
see you for a moment, and to ask whether I could do
anything for you."





PREJUDICE LOST, ANTD LOVE WON.

"No, thank you, my dear," replied Mrs. Osborne,
coldly, and taking up a volume which had been lying
on her lap, as if she was about to read it.
"Will you give me one kiss, mamma ?" said Mary
Osborne, in a low, timid voice, as if she were asking a
favour of her mother.
To be sure I will. Have I ever refused to kiss
you, Mary ?"
No, mamma; but- "
"But what?" inquired Mrs. Osborne, glancing
round somewhat authoritatively at the now frightened
Mary.
But I was afraid you might be displeased at my
interrupting you."
No, not displeased; but you know how small a
matter discomposes me now my health is so broken up;
you must not, therefore, take fancies into your head,
my dear, they will only make you troublesome and
disagreeable. There, like a good girl, let us have no
more of this," added she in a softened tone, as she
perceived a tear stealing into her daughter's eye. Give
me a kiss, and then go and take your walk while the
day is fine. But where is Edith ?"
"I will send her to you, mamma," replied Mary,
leaving the room in quest of her sister, who was two or
three years younger than herself. She found her in the
school-room, looking rather disconsolate, as she had
been reproved by her governess for idleness and in-
attention.
Mamma is asking for you, Edith," said Mary to her
-on entering the room.
Edith looked up doubtfully at Miss Barter : "May I
go to mamma ?"





PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

"Yes; but I cannot send a good report of you to-
day; not such a one as I sent of your sister just now.
Did you convey my message of satisfaction at your
attention and progress to your mother ?" added she,
turning to Mary.
"No, ma'am," replied Mary, colouring; for mamma
did not ask me if you were satisfied with me."
I dare say she took it for granted," observed Miss
Barter, smiling.
Mary remained silent; an unconscious sigh escaped
her lips. Meanwhile, Edith had flown off to the draw-
ing-room, and had recovered on the way all her elastic
gaiety. She threw herself into her mother's arms,
which were fondly opened to receive her. Mrs. Osborne
gently pushed back her fair waving ringlets, and looking
into her eyes observed the traces of bygone tears.
"Has any one been vexing you, my own darling ?"
inquired she, in an anxious tone.
Oh! Miss Barter is so strict sometimes with me
that she is quite angry if I miss a word or two of my
lesson. She is quite different with Mary, and scarcely
ever finds any fault with her."
"I won't suffer it,' said her fond mother. She
must be kind to you, or it will not do for her to remain
long here."
Now Edith, though wilful and impetuous as spoiled
children are often wont to be, was not of an untrue or
ungenerous nature. She felt instinctively that she had
given her mother a false impression of the matter.
"Ah, mamma," said she, "you must not be angry
with her; she often forgives me.;" and then hiding her
face on her mother's shoulder, she added, and Mary
learns her lessons far better than I do."





PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.


"So she ought, my love," rejoined the indulgent
mother; she is older than you. But I don't choose to
have any patterns of goodness set up in the school-
room. I shall have a talk about it some day with Miss
Barter. Meanwhile, my darling, give me one more
kiss, and then go out for your afternoon walk; other-
wise these roses," added she, smiling, as she patted
Edith's cheeks, will quickly fade away."
One more fond embrace and Edith was away on the
staircase to join her sister and governess in their after-
noon walk. Before many minutes were past, the two
young girls and their governess had begun their ramble
in some of the pleasant lanes near Malvern, where they
soon filled their fairy baskets with primroses and
violets, twined in their own fresh leaves, mixed with
soft, emerald-hued moss. More than once the skylark
lured them from too near an approach to her nest by
her sweet, soaring song:-

Type of the wise, who soar but never roam;
True to the kindred points of heaven and home."

While they are thus enjoying the balmy breezes of a
pleasant spring day, we shall give our readers some
account of the family party who have just been in-
troduced to them.
Mrs. Osborne had been united in early youth to a
wealthy Calcutta banker, to whom she was much
attached, and whom she accompanied to the East, from
whence, after many years of residence, she had returned
in ill health a few months previous to the time at which
our story opens. Mr. Osborne had remained behind
her, hoping at the expiration of another year to join his
family in England, and to seek for a settled home in his






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

native country. Meanwhile Mrs. Osborne was residing
at a pretty villa near Malvern, whose bracing air had
been recommended as the most suitable to her debi-
litated constitution. Her three children, Mary, Cecil,
and Edith, had long since been sent home to the care of
their grandmother, who had confided the two little girls
chiefly to the care of Miss Barter, a kind and ex-
perienced governess, who soon grew warmly attached
to her young pupils. Immediately on Mrs. Osborne's
return she hastened to her mother's home, where she
had the happiness of once more embracing her two
daughters, whom she had not seen since the time of
their early childhood. She was instantly attracted by
the pretty, playful Edith, on whom she lavished all her
fondness, and without being conscious of it, treated her
eldest daughter with coldness and neglect. Mary, un-
like her younger sister, was not gifted with beauty; but
there was a charm in her sweet smile, a tenderness of
expression in her dark intelligent eyes, and a gentle
gracefulness in her form and movements, which would
have won the heart of a less impulsive mother than was
Mrs. Osborne. Mary's heart had long been yearning
for her mother's return, but, partly from timidity, partly
from self-distrust, she gave but little outward expres-
sion to her joy on meeting her mother; and with
that intuition which is so strong in early life, she
quickly became aware that the love she had so earnestly
longed for, was chiefly bestowed upon her youngest
sister. We will not pretend to deny that some feeling
of envy at first crept unknowingly into her heart, for
she was human, and therefore accessible to the sins
and infirmities of humanity; but she did not suffer it
to rest there, for she had been already taught that pre-






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

cious as is the gift of affection, and especially to woman,
it is a far higher blessing to love unselfishly, than to
seek too earnestly for a fond return. Happily for her,
too, she knew where to seek for a far surer strength
than her own; nor was the task now allotted to her so
difficult to her as it might have proved to many others,
for she dearly loved her sister; and, perhaps, partly
from the strong contrast between their natural cha-
racters, partly owing to the absence of their parents, she
had come to regard her with that sort of protective
fondness which could scarcely be expected from the
slight disparity in their years. Mary's disappointment
at her mother's seeming coldness was deepened by a
latent fear that it might haply be occasioned by some
deficiency in herself. Mrs. Osborne, whose life had,
heretofore, been one of indolent and luxurious ease, was
not wont to analyze the feelings of those around her;
otherwise, perhaps, she might have guessed somewhat
of the feelings of her eldest daughter, and her mother's
heart might have been touched by the depth of her
quiet tender affection.
We have left Mary and Edith enjoying a country
ramble, from whence they returned laden with sweet
spring blossoms. Edith ran straight into the drawing-
room to display to her mother all her treasures.
Are you not coming in to show your pretty flowers
to mamma ?" asked she of Mary, who passed by the
open door of the drawing-room on her way up-stairs.
I know that mamma does not like me to go into
the drawing-room till I have changed my boots," was
Mary's reply.
"How particular you are!" said Edith, laughing.
" I always go in just as I am, and mamma never finds






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.


any fault with me for doing so; do you, my own dear
little mamma?" said she, throwing herself in her
mother's arms.
"What are you talking about?" inquired Mrs.
Osborne, who was just waking up from her afternoon
siesta.
I am only scolding Mary for not bringing in her
flowers to show you, but she is afraid of coming in with
her soiled boots on."
I hate my children being afraid of me," said Mrs.
Osborne. "It looks as if I were cross to them, which I
am sure is not the case. You are not afraid of me, my
darling ?"
Not a bit," said Edith, gaily; I am not afraid of
any one, except now and then, a little, a very little, of
Miss Barter."
That is right, my love; I will not suffer any one
to frighten you."
Mary now entered the room, bearing in her hand a
small open basket of violets and wood-anemones, taste-
fully arranged amid their own leaves, and presenting
the loveliest image of freshness and repose. "Are
they not sweet ?" asked she of her mother, as she placed
the basket on a small table by her side.
"Yes, very sweet, thank you, my dear," replied
Mrs. Osborne, the intonation of her' voice changing
from its previous fond inflection to a more measured
metre.
"Don't they look like children resting in their
mother's arms ?" said Mary, whose still yet ardent
temperament was ever kindled by the silent poetry of
nature.
"You are quite poetic to-day," observed Mrs. Os-






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

borne, with a slightly sarcastic emphasis on the word
"poetic."
Mary coloured deeply, while with difficulty she
checked a rising tear, for she felt but too truly that
she was neither understood nor beloved by her mother,
the being for whose presence she had most longed a
little while ago.
"Poetic! that is a grand word," exclaimed Edith,
laughing; but I can tell you that Mary does write
verses, for I saw some in her writing-case a long time
ago, but she never gave them to me to read."
o doubt they were very fine," replied Mrs. Os-
borne, "and we shall have a Hemans or a Barrett
Browning in our family by and by; but," turning to
Mary, I should like to see those verses of which Edith
speaks, unless they are on some mysterious theme, not
to be exposed to my vulgar gaze.' "
"Indeed they are not worth your reading," replied
Mary, colouring even more deeply than before.
"You may at least allow me to be the judge of
that," said her mother, whose curiosity began to be
excited.
"Well, mamma, you shall be obliged;" and Mary,
leaving the room, returned in a few moments with a
sheet of paper, which she placed in her mother's hands,
trembling with emotion as she did so. Mrs. Osborne
read aloud the following lines:-


ON MY DEAREST MAMMA'S PICTURE.
My mother! oh how sweet her smile!
How kind and beaming are her eyes 1
Not all the treasures upon earth
Like that lob'd image do 1 prize.








PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

SMy mother! if on thy likeness
To gaze I find e'en now so sweet,
How joyous, oh how joyous then,
Thine own lov'd self once more to meet I

4 MIy mother seas betwixt us roll;
Far from thy children now thou art;
And yet I feel thee near to me-
Yes, ever near mine inmost heart.

"* My mother! oh may many a year
Of cloudless joy and peace be thine;
And may the bliss of pleasing thee,
And doing all thy will, be mine I

S Mother! should sorrow ever come
STo overcloud thy life's bright day,
Oh be it mine with duteous love
To soothe each care, each grief allay!

"4 My mother! sweetest name on earth,
Soon may I all its sweetness know !
Then shall my heart with joy and praise
To Him, the Fount of love, o'erflow."


As Mrs. Osborne went on reading, her voice lost its
measured tone of indifference, for those silent breathing
of her daughter's love stirred the truer feelings of a
mother's heart within her, and she became painfully
conscious how utterly she had failed to realize the hopes
which had been thus fondly cherished.
These are, indeed, very pretty verses," said she,
drawing Mary to her side, and imprinting on her cheek
a fonder kiss than had been given since the first day of
their meeting in England.
But had the whole tide of her feelings thus rapidly
turned to their natural channel, or was this sudden gush
of affection a merely evanescent feeling, destined to
fade away as quickly as it had seemed to blossom ?
Time will show. Meanwhile, it was so new a thing to







PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.


Mary to receive any mark of fondness from her mother,
that Mrs. Osborne's moment of tenderness seemed to
fill her heart with sunshine for many an hour after.
This was a golden day in Mary's life.



11.
LIFE IN THE SCHOOL-ROOM.
IT was the hour appointed by Miss Barter for the re-
creation of her pupils, a time when they might pursue
their own little plans or amusements, unfettered by her
presence or her regulations. She was in her own
chamber writing a letter, when the sound of a scream
drew her back into the school-room, a pleasant apartP
ment opening out through a glass door into the garden.
She found Edith sobbing violently, and at the same
time scolding, in no measured terms, the housemaid for
some supposed delinquency, while Mary was vainly
attempting to soothe and reason with her excited sister.
She did it on purpose, I am sure she did; just to
revenge herself on me because mamma was displeased
with her for not folding up my things when I lefo them
about. She is a spiteful creature, and I tell her so to
her face."
The poor young housemaid looked aghast at these
fierce accusations, but it seemed impossible for her to
speak a word in her own defence while the torrent of
Edith's invectives were being so passionately poured
forth.
Miss Barter quietly, but decidedly, insisted on
Edith's immediate silence, and the angry little girl,







PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

overawed by her strong calm will, became perfectly
still.
Tell me, Anne, if you please, what you have been
doing to displease Miss Edith so much."
"You are going to listen to that girl-you would
not listen to me," muttered Edith, in a low sullen
tone.
"I have already heard you say much-only too
much," replied Miss Barter; "and now I wish to hear
what Anne has to say for herself."
Anne then informed Miss Barter that her mistress
having lately been displeased with her for having neg-
lected Miss Edith's bullfinch, while at the same time
Miss Edith had ordered her never to touch its cage, she
felt perplexed what to do this morning when she per-
ceived that the cage was very dirty, and the poor little
creature left without water or seeds. "So I was be-
tween two minds about it," added she, "but thought
my mistress was the first to be minded; so I cleaned
the tray and put fresh seeds into the drawer. Then I
slipped my hand into the cage to take out the empty
cup, when, as ill luck would have it, Miss Edith opened
the door and called out pretty sharply to me to go
directly to her mamma. While my head was turned
towards her-for I felt all in a fluster, ma'am-Bully
darted out of his cage and escaped through the open
door into the garden, where you may hear him singing
away in the branches of that lilac tree yonder."
Here Edith's sobs were renewed: My own darling
Bully! I shall never hear him sing again, and I loved
him so dearly and she knew it too, and she ought to
have taken better care of him."
"My dear Edith, would you like to be judged as






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

severely as you ara judging your fellow-creature?"
asked Miss Barter, gravely. "It seems sometimes
to escape your recollection that 'with the same mea-
sure that we mete withal shall it be measured to us
again.' Besides, the account Anne has given of the
matter seems very natural, and I hope she would
be far from wishing to pain you by the loss of your
bird; that is a wickedness I would be sorry to suspect
her of."
No, indeed, ma'am; for I am very fond of Bully,"
replied Anne, and would miss his pretty warbling,
which has often lightened my heart when I was at
work."
Edith's only reply was a renewal of her convulsive
sobs. Mary gently placed her arm around her sister,
and sought to soothe her into stillness. Let me try,"
said she, "whether I cannot lure back Bully into his
cage. Perhaps I may succeed in doing so."
Saying thus, she took the cage, and putting into it a
plentiful supply of his favourite hemp-seed, placed it on
a green bank beneath the tree on which he was then
joyously chanting his song of liberty. Before many mo-
ments were passed, Bully had entered the cage, and
was feasting on his favourite food. He cast some furtive
glances around to see if there were any foes at hand, and
Edith was on the point of darting out to close the door
of his cage, when Mary, who had placed herself at a.
little distance behind a bush, signalled to her to remain
quiet. A moment or two later Bully had gained confi-
dence, and was devouring the luscious seed without any
fear of detection. Mary quietly approached the cage,
and closed the door behind him. The little captive flut-
tered against the wires of his cage, but vain were his





PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WOfU.

attempts to escape; he was once more a prisoner.
Mary brought the cage in to her sister, who threw her
arms round her neck, and called her her own dear good
sister," and then took the cage, and with half-endearing,
half-angry words, expostulated with Bully for having
thus attempted to escape from her.
"No one but my own self shall ever meddle with
you again, that I am determined on," said she, in a
somewhat imperious tone.
I hope, miss," observed Anne, that you will be so
kind as to tell my mistress so; as otherwise she might
be displeased with me for leaving the cage dirty."
"Never fear," replied Edith. "Mamma will like
me to have my own way about it. I know that," con-
tinued she, laughing.
Ah! well might it have been for Edith if she had
not known it so well ; for though possessing a warm,
affectionate heart, she was gradually hardening into
selfishness under the influence of a mother who loved
this attractive child, "not wisely, but too well."
Miss Barter returned to her apartment to finish her
letter. She felt perplexed at the growing difficulties of
her position; for it was often impossible to check the
passionate impulses of her younger pupil without seem-
ing to place herself in opposition to Mrs. Osborne,
and she had too deep a conviction of the paramount
authority of a parent to have recourse to this alternative.
On returning to the duties of the school-room, she found
Mary, who had a great talent for painting, seated at her
easel, and doing in water-colours a small landscape
wherein was depicted a cottage home overshadowed by
two or three old ash-trees, beneath whose branches
meandered a shining rivulet. A wreath of curling





PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

smoke rose from the gable-end chimney of the cottage,
while before the door lay an outstretched dog which
even in its slumbers seemed to be basking contentedly
in the midday sunshine. It was a pleasing and sugges-
tive scene, for it shadowed forth the ever-present activity
of nature, mingled with the peaceful stillness of home
life.
Mary sighed as she rose from her easel, and prepared
to lay aside her brushes.
That is a very pretty picture you are doing," said
Miss Barter to her pupil, and I am sorry to take you
away from it, but your music-master is expected every
moment, and you are to take your lesson first to-day, as
Edith is engaged just now with her mamma."
"Yes," replied Mary, "she told me that mamma
was taking her out to pay some visits, but that she
would be back before the end of my lesson. Oh, how I
wish," continued she, with another half-suppressed sigh,
" that I had as much talent as Edith has for music!"
Why should you desire it so much ?" inquired Miss
Barter, with evident surprise; for she had never ob-
served in Mary any tendency to jealousy or envy.
" You have each been gifted in a different way, and your
talent for painting is one that might be envied by many
a young girl. Edith's may doubtless be the more popu-
lar gift of the two, but I have long thought that no
talent can be rightly or fully enjoyed except so far as we
cultivate it thankfully-not with any view of exciting ad-
miration in the world, but for the quiet home enjoyment
of others as well as of ourselves."
"Indeed, I don't want to excite admiration in the
world," rephed Mary, as the tears rolled down her
cheeks, "but I would like to play and sing so as to






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.


please my dear mamma; for I perceive how much she
delights in listening to Edith, but she does not care to
see my drawings."
Miss Barter was of too kind a nature not to sympa-
thize truly with the feelings of a young and sensitive
being; but she knew how important it was for Mary,
under her present circumstances, to check the morbid
regrets that might imbitter her whole existence, and
also to strengthen her character so as to bear cheerfully
the daily trials that might be appointed to her.
"I can well understand your regrets, my dear young
friend," replied she, in a gentle tone, and happily for
you, there is One who understands them far better than
I do, and who, doubtless, measures out his gifts to you
most lovingly and wisely too. But what I want you to
aim at is to cultivate every talent committed to you, be
it small or great; not so much with a view to present
results as because it is right and fitting you should do
so, and also with the assured belief that each gift thus
rightly used will in due season bring its destined blessing
and enjoyment. Only one word more and I have done.
Remember what I have often told you, that no woman
is thoroughly prepared for the events of life who has not
learned that a far higher and purer bliss is comprised in
loving than in being loved."
Ah, but I would like to be loved too," murmured
poor Mary, as the door opened, and her teacher was
announced.
Miss Barter, who knew well what was passing in her
heart, could only say, Wait and hope."
Mary began her music lesson rather dispiritedly,
but quickly turned her whole attention to it, and re-
ceived from her master the qualified praise that her





PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

performance had been very creditable to her. Just as
the hour's lesson was over, Mrs. Osborne entered the
room with Edith, who was welcomed with evident
pleasure by Mr. Hayes.
Mrs. Osborne said she hoped he was satisfied with
his pupils.
"Yes," replied he, I am perfectly satisfied with
both of them. It is impossible for any young lady to
be more attentive and painstaking than Miss Osborne:
and as for Miss Edith, though she may occasionally be
a little less careful about her time and so on," said he,
smiling, "yet I have no doubt she will do me great
credit by and by."
The compliment which was thus implied in Mr.
Hayes' observation, was by no means thrown away upon
Edith; but, lest there might be any doubt of her
breathing in the sweet incense of flattery, her mother
rejoined:-" Yes, Edith has a decided talent for music,
and one grain of genius is worth all the plodding in the
world."
Mary was not slow to comprehend this allusion to
herself, and trembled with emotion as she rose from the
piano.
Mrs. Osborne caught the meaning of her daughter's
heightened colour and timid glance, and, remembering
the verses by which she had been so deeply moved only
a few days before, she reproached herself for having
thus inconsiderately wounded Mary's feelings; for Mrs.
Osborne was not deliberately selfish or unkind. She
was only impulsive and inconsiderate; and how much
misery, alas! often springs from these negative faults
in the daily course of domestic life!
As she was about to leave the room, she approached






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

Mary's easel, and, noticing her sketch, observed that it
was a very pleasing one, and that when finished it must
be framed and hung up in her dressing-room, for that
it was a sort of scene she liked to look upon.
I shall be delighted to place it there if you think
it worthy of your acceptance, dear mamma," replied
Mary, her countenance beaming with pleasure at her
mother's approbation.
Mrs. Osborne pressed her lips upon her daughter's
forehead, and left the room. That one kiss was a balm
to Mary's loving heart. Often, too, did Miss Barter's
words recur with pleasure to her thoughts, imparting
to her strength for the present, and hope for the time
to come.
Words! how lavish-oftentimes, heedlessly lavish-
are we all of them and yet, when wisely and lovingly
spoken, how full of might are they to the weak, of
music to the sorrowful, and of teaching to the tempted
and the ignorant! Let us then take heed to our
words, lest we pain those unawares whom it ought to
be our aim to cheer and comfort along the chequered
pathway of life.





A SEASON OF EXPECTATION.
CECIL'S Midsummer holidays were begun, and he now
formed part of the family circle at Homehurst. Gladly
was he welcomed both by his mother and sisters, who
were, as yet, but imperfectly acquainted with him; for
previous to Mrs. Osborne's return home, his vacations







PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

were usually spent at the house of an uncle, because his
grandmother's health was too infirm to admit of her
having so many youthful guests around her. Cecil was
a merry, light-hearted boy, possessing good abilities and
but little application ; apt to get into scrapes, and often,
from mere heedlessness, annoying those whom he loved
best. He was, in short, one of those whose future
course seemed to depend much upon the influences by
which he was surrounded.
On first coming home he was at once drawn to his
pretty, playful sister Edith, who was ever ready to
share in his frolics and to join in his merriment. Mary
he regarded as a "phenomenon of prudence," and his
usual appellation of her was "Old Wisdom;" a title
which was not pleasing to the young girl, especially as
she felt within herself the capability of appreciating
fun and humour, whenever her heart was suffered to
expand a little beneath the genial influence of kindness
and of love. But she bore her brother's bantering
well, and gladly helped him, when, as was usually the
case, he came to seek her aid in any boyish difficulty or
trouble. Mrs. Osborne was proud of her handsome
son; but she was by no means pleased at his engrossing
so much of Edith's company, and hinted to her more
than once, that she seemed to care much less about
being in the drawing-room since Cecil's return home.
"Where are Cecil and Edith ?" inquired Mrs. Os-
borne of her eldest daughter one morning when the
breakfast table was prepared, and neither of her younger
children appeared.
They have just run out into the garden," replied
Mary, "but I am sure they will be here immediately.
Shall I go and call them, mamma?"







PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

"No, mry dear, you need not be so officious," said
Mrs. Osborne, who was out of humour at Edith's
seeming neglect of her.
Mary coloured up and remained silent. A few
moments later, Cecil and Edith entered the room.
Edith, as usual, threw herself in her mother's arms,
but did not meet quite so warm a response as she was
accustomed to receive.
"Where have you been?" asked Mrs. Osborne.
" Breakfast has been ready these five minutes, and I
cannot be kept waiting for my children."
I went to take a race in the garden with Cecil,"
was Edith's prompt reply.
"Ah I thought it was Cecil's fault," observed Mrs.
Osborne, glancing towards her son.
No, indeed," cried out Cecil, in a tone of indigna-
tion. Edith knows that it was she who called me
out just as I was on my way to the breakfast-parlour."
I said nothing to the contrary," replied Edith.
"But I think, at all events, that Mary might have told
us that breakfast was ready," added she, pouting, for
she was quite unused to the slightest expression of
displeasure from her mother's lips, and consequently
felt out of humour with everybody around her. Mary
remained silent, fearing to irritate her mother by the
slightest attempt at self-exculpation.
I would not allow her to do so," said Mrs. Osborne,
who was not unobservant of her silence, nor altogether
unconscious of the feeling that caused it.
Breakfast over, the two young girls retired with
Miss Barter to their usual course of morning studies.
Cecil, taking up a newspaper, threw himself into an
easy chair, and yawned aloud.







PREJUDICE LOST, ATD LOVE WON.

"I am afraid you already begin to find it dull at
home," observed his mother.
"Oh, no, 'tis quite jolly to be with you all again,"
replied he; "and many a time have I longed to have my
mother and sisters to care a little about me; but one
misses at first the lot of young fellows who are always
ready for a lark. Girls are not up to that sort of thing,
you know; although," added he, with an air of incipient
manly superiority, "they are very well in their own
way."
His mother could not refrain from smiling, but she
said, in reply, that she hoped before long he mighthave
some companions better suited to him, and that mean-
while she would indulge.him now and then with a
pony to take a ride over the hills.
You are a real trump," cried out Cecil, springing
up from his lounging attitude, and by way of crowning
the matter, do let me have a scamper to-day."
Yes, the weather is so fine that it is a pity you
should not fully enjoy it," replied Mrs. Osborne, looking
pleasantly at her son; but," added she more gravely,
" don't teach Edith any of those strange words you are
so fond of using. She is so quick and clever that she
would pick them up immediately, and it would displease
me much if, for instance, I heard her calling mo ',
trump' as you have just done."
Oh, she has picked up a score of them already,"
replied Cecil, laughing, "but I shall endeavour to speak
for the future in the most approved school-room fashion.
And now I am off to look for a pony, a spanking one
he must be to suit my taste. Good-bye." And off ran
the merry boy in pursuit of a fitting steed.
On the evening of this same day, when the young






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

people were gathered together around their mother's
tea-table, she communicated to them thejoyful news that
by a letter just received from their father, he might be
expected home in the course of a few weeks, as he had
written from Calcutta to say that he meant to return
home on pressing business by the next overland mail,
and that immediately on reaching England he would
hasten to Malvern to embrace his wife and children.
"We may, perhaps, at first feel a little strange to each
other," wrote he, "but I hope that my children will
quickly learn to love their father."
"We shall not need to learn it," observed Mary
to her mother, "for I am sure we love papa dearly
already."
Oh, how jolly it will be to have him amongst us !"
cried out Edith, as she danced round the table with
pleasure.
"Jolly!" exclaimed Mrs. Osborne; "I must beg of
you never to let me hear you use again any slang of
that sort; it may do very well for schoolboys perhaps,
but a more refined language is suitable for young ladies.
I wonder that Miss Barter has allowed you to adopt
such words as that."
Oh, I take care not to say anything of that sort
before her; she is so precise."
"A perfect Argus," exclaimed Cecil, laughing.
"But she is one of the right sort after all, for she has
a good opinion of me."
A good opinion of you! Pray, how did you learn
that ?" asked Mrs. Osborne, with a smile.
"I know it perfectly by the kind way that she
looks and talks to me. She does not say, Master
Cecil, be quiet;' 'Master Cecil, you are a perfect nui-






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

sance in the school-room," as my cousin's governess
used often to do, an old quiz as she was; so I say, Bar-
ter for ever !' tossing up his cap in the air just at the same
moment that Miss Barter entered the room to join the
family party at tea. A half-suppressed smile was ex-
changed between the young people. Mrs. Osborne was
too well bred to betray any sign of confusion.
Cecil, go and put away your cap," said she, "this
is no place for it;" and on turning to Miss Barter, in-
formed her of the news that had been just received, and
which was listened to by Miss Barter with evident plea-
sure, for she knew how to sympathize in the gladness of
those around her.
The ensuing month was one of longing expectation
at Homehurst, and many were the discussions that took
place among the younger members of the circle as to
what might be the result of their father's return home.
At length it was announced by the telegraph that
the Indian mail steamer had reached Marseilles, and the
days began to be counted up to the time of Mr.
Osborne's expected arrival. Mrs. Osborne's anxiety to
see him again made her more nervous than usual; a
small matter sufficed to irritate or excite her. Will
you never learn to shut the door quietly ?" said she to
Cecil, as he came briskly into the room to tell her of
some plan he had formed for the day. The boy looked
rather crestfallen at this reproof, which was uttered in
a sharp tone of voice. Immediately afterwards Edith
rushed into the room, and throwing her arms round her
mother's neck, besought leave to ride up the Worces-
tershire beacon on a pony with Cecil.
"It will be so jolly for us two to scamper over the
hills together."






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

"Jolly again I have already desired you not to use
those schoolboy expressions, and as for allowing you to
ride alone with Cecil, that is quite out of the question;
you are both too young and giddy to be trusted
together."
Giddy!" re-echoed they both together. "I consi-
der myself a model of steadiness," said Cecil, "only a
very little inferior to Old Wisdom herself."
Pray, who is this Old Wisdom with whom you are
comparing yourself?" inquired Mrs. Osborne.
That is the name he has given Mary," said Edith,
laughing.
At another time Mrs. Osborne would only have smiled
at the nickname bestowed upon her eldest daughter, but
just now she was a little jealous of Edith, who since her
brother's arrival had been much less assiduous in her
attendance on her mother. Therefore, she observed that
it was a bad habit to give nicknames to others, and then
reiterated her refusal for the reasons already assigned.
Besides," added she, addressing Edith, you seem
quite to have forgotten that I had promised to take you
a drive to-day to Cowley Park. I remember the time
when nothing seemed so pleasant to you as being with
your mother; but matters are changed now, and I am
favoured with much less of your company than a little
while ago. Not that it makes much difference to me,
but for your own sake, I wish you to be a little moro
consistent in your conduct. Mary will be my com-
panion to-day, so I do not require you to accompany
me."
The poisoned barb of jealousy entered, alas but
too easily into Edith's heart, for she could not endure a
rival in her mother's fondness, even though it might be






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

found in the person of a loving sister. She threw her-
self passionately into her mother's arms, calling her by
many an endearing name, and saying that no one else
could love her darling mamma as she did.
"I must and will go with you to-day," said she,
"no one shall prevent me."
Mrs. Osborne gave way to this outburst of im-
petuosity; and so she was accompanied by both her






AII









daughters in her afternoon drive to Cowley Park,
whose peaceful rural beauty might fittingly have dis-
pelled each passing cloud in the human heart; but
Edith gave no heed to the still sweet voice of Nature
that breathed around. She sat sullenly opposite to her
mother, who, by way of piquing her a little, addressed
her conversation chiefly to Mary, and showed unwonted
regard to her opinions and feelings. Mary, who knew
nothing of what had so recently passed, was full of
happiness on finding herself thus kindly treated by her
mother. The hidden poetry of her nature was called





PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE 1Y-N.

forth by the scenes around her, and M5rs. Osborne was
surprised to find herself both cheered and elevated by
the society of her eldest daughter.
On reaching home, she said, You have really made
my drive very pleasant to-day, but I cannot say as
much for Edith; she has taken care not to contribute
much to our amusement."
Edith looked sullen and downcast. As soon as Mary
was alone with her, she inquired, in a kind tone,
whether she was unwell. No reply was vouchsafed to
her.
"Do tell me, dearest Edith. I cannot bear to think
you may have some suffering that I know not of."
So saying, Mary placed her arm tenderly round her
sister's neck. Edith started back from her touch as if
it had been the fang of a viper.
You are a hypocrite, Mary. You know very well
what is the matter with me; and you want to worm
yourself into mamma's good graces. But you never can
take my place, do what you will; nor will she ever care
for you half as much as she does for me, that I can tell
you; for she thinks you too grave and too plain. I
heard her say so myself."
Never before had Edith allowed such cruel words to
escape her lips, nor would she have done so now if the
darker side of her nature had not been suffered to gain
a passionate ascendancy over her. Oh when shall we
all learn to check the tide of evil at its very source,
before the downward torrent rushes on so as to defy
our own unaided efforts to resist it ?
Scarcely had Edith uttered these words, when, in
spite of all her inconsiderateness, she bitterly repented
having spoken them. But the arrow had sped its way





PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

to Mary's heart. Despite her habit of self-coatrol, she
burst into tears.
Oh, Edith! I am no hypocrite," said she, "and
as for wishing to supplant you in any way, I love you
too dearly for that. Are you not my own darling
sister, whose happiness is dearer to me than that of
any other being on earth, save one ?"
Edith was now overwhelmed with shame and sor-
row. She threw herself into Mary's arms, entreated
her forgiveness, spoke of herself in the most humi-
liating terms, and even confessed that she had exagge-
rated her mother's words concerning Mary's appearance.
"Indeed, you are worth a hundred of me every
way; I know it well. Do love me and forgive me, my
own dear sister."
Words like these were interrupted by sobs so violent
and convulsive, that Mary, even by the tenderest as-
surances and warmest caresses, could scarcely still the
grief of her impulsive sister. She at length drew her
into the garden, where the silent beauty of the fragrant
shrubs, and the sweet song of birds, helped to allay
Edith's agitation. But one word of Mary's contributed,
perhaps, more than aught else to quiet her excited
spirit.
"Have I so much to be forgiven ?" asked she,
glancing upwards to the cloudless sky, which seemed
to look down upon them with a serene aspect; "have
I so much to be forgiven? and can I fail to forgive
what is so little, so very little, in comparison ?"
"Ah!" replied Edith, "you are much better than
I am."
Hush, hush !" interposed Mary, quickly, or you
will now really offend me."





PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.


"Will you pray for me, Mary ?"
Yes, now and ever, dearest Edith."
The sisters were at this moment called in to th
studies. One gentle kiss sealed their reconciliation
Edith was more softened and subdued than usual in
her manner, and Mary, though still retaining a painful
impression of the words which had been so heedlessly
uttered by her sister, yet enjoyed that calm peacefulness
of spirit which cannot be destroyed by aught of earth,
for it is a plant of heavenly growth.



Iv.
JOY IN THE HOME.

IT is a warm summer evening, and the whole family
party are gathered together on a grassy plot in the
garden, beneath the shade of an outspreading mulberry
tree: chairs and tables have been brought out, and tea
is laid there by desire of Mrs. Osborne, and in compli-
ance with the wishes of her son, who helps to lay out
all sorts of good things on the table, and says it will
turn out quite a jolly affair. A servant approaches Mrs.
Osborne, and presents her with a telegraphic message,
which she unfolds with a trembling hand, for her heart
misgives her lest it should prove the bearer of somo
unwelcome tidings.
"Arrived at Southampton. Off immediately to
Malvern.-H. C. 0."
Mrs. Osborne's emotion was so great that the mes-
sage dropped from her hand. Cecil picked it up and
read it aloud.





PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.


"Hurrah! Papa will be here immediately. Look
here! It is dated 6 A.M., and by the carelessness of
some rascally official, it has been delayed on the road."
Scarcely had he said this when the sound of car-
riage wheels were heard outside the garden wall. All
sprang to their feet. Cecil rushed to the garden door,
and there, at the entrance of the house, stood a cab laden
with luggage, and a gentleman inquiring whether this
was the residence of Mrs. Osborne. One glance passed
between them. No introduction was required. "My
father !" My son." A moment or two later and Mr.
Osborne found himself clasped in the arms of his wife,
with his children clinging around him-one of those
happy moments in life which more than compensate
for years of anxiety and care.
Miss Barter had the good taste and discretion to
withdraw from this family meeting. She felt that no
stranger's eye should rest upon a scene in which all were
bound together by the dearest and closest ties.
Mr. Osborne looked round upon his children, and
seemed lovingly to scan their countenances. "Mary's
eyes are very like yours, my love," said he, addressing
his wife. Mary coloured up with pleasure at this ob-
servation, for she had feared in her inmost heart that
her father too might be prejudiced against her by the
" plainness" of her looks.
Edith is generally thought to be most like me,"
replied Mrs. Osborne.
Her features are so, perhaps," rejoined her hus-
band; "but they will both be all the dearer to me for
bearing some resemblance to their mother. And Cecil,
my boy, let me see who you are like. You remind me
of my own father, and you could not be like a worthier






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

man. But where is Miss Barter ? I had a glimpse of
her on first coming in here, and I wish to thank her for
her good care of our children in our absence."
Edith ran to call Miss Barter, who quickly made
her appearance, and received gratefully the expression
of Mr. Osborne's thankfulness to her.
The evening sun glimmered through the branches
of the fruit-bearing mulberry tree, so that both sky and
earth seemed to harmonize with the joy of this reunited
family.
Mr. Osborne was in most respects as different as
possible from his wife, to whom he was not the less
devotedly attached; a plain, intelligent man of business,
upright in his dealings, acute in observation, and yet
unsuspicious in his temper, caring but little for the
pomps or pleasures of life, and yet anxious that
his wife should enjoy them all. Before many hours
were gone by, he seemed to have read clearly the cha-
racters and dispositions of his children. His eye rested
with peculiar complacency on Mary, whose countenance
gained a new charm from the consciousness she felt of
her father's preference. He overheard a pettish reply
of Edith's to some wish expressed to her by Miss Bar-
ter, and the next time he was alone with his wife he
asked her whether Edith was not a little spoiled.
Oh no," replied her fond mother; "but she is very
sensitive, and the poor darling cannot bear being found
fault with. Don't you think that she promises to be a
lovely creature?"
"Yes, she is very pretty, and knows it, perhaps, a
little too well. Mary's eyes are much finer, and though
her features are not regular they are far more expres-
sive than Edith's; but," added he, on perceiving a light





PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

cloud flitting across his wife's countenance, "they are
both very nice creatures, and will, I hope, prove a great
comfort to us when they are a little older. Cecil, too, is
a fine-spirited boy, but will require a little manage-
ment.
After a few days spent most happily in the bosom of
his family, Mr. Osborne went up to London on business,
and wrote shortly afterwards to acquaint his wife that
a large speculation in which he had been engaged pro-
mised to turn out so advantageously that he had re-
solved not to return to India, but to settle at once at
home, and that he was now in treaty for a mansion in
Bolgravia. "There," he continued, "you will enjoy all
the comforts and luxuries of life, and our daughters will
have the advantage of the best masters; and when they
are old enough to be introduced into society, they will
be so under the most favourable circumstances."
Cecil had already returned to school; but the young
girls were informed of the arrangements their father
had made for a residence in town. The idea was full of
novelty to them, and they were both alike pleased with
the anticipation. Many were the questions asked of
Miss Barter, who had long lived in London, and who
opened out to them a vista of unbounded promise-so
rich and varied are the sources of interest to all ages
and all minds in our British metropolis.
But we shall have no pretty lanes and green fields
to walk in," said Mary, inquiringly.
"And no hills to climb, or ponies to zide upon,"
exclaimed Edith.
It only results in one plain fact that meets us in
every passage of our life," replied Miss Barter, "that
as no landscape is without shadow, so no position of life






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.


but must have its drawbacks. The great secret of
enjoyment is to look rather at the sunshine of our daily
path than at the darker spots that may be in view."
Now came a time of bustle and of packing-a time
which has always many charms for very young people
whose imaginations teem with images of some fairy
land of brightness and of beauty which looms in the
unknown future that lies before them; nor would we
wish to disenchant them of their dreams. The graver
realities of life come soon enough to all.





V.

LIFE IN LONDON.

A MANSION in Belgravia, furnished with almost Eastern
magnificence; a long train of servants waiting to supply
every want, and attend on every caprice; a handsome
equipage for out-of-door recreation and exercise-such
were the aspects of the new home to which Mr.
Osborne conducted his family in the winter of 185-.
Mrs. Osborne enjoyed her position with that languid
sort of satisfaction felt by ladies who have been used to
a life of luxurious ease in India.
Mary was by no means indifferent to all the charm-
ing novelties by which she was surrounded, and spent
much time in examining the treasures of Eastern art
which her parents had brought home with them.
Edith was enchanted with everything about her, and it
was long before she could be persuaded to settle down






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

to any sort of occupation. Fortunately for her, Miss
Barter was absent for a while visiting her friends; and
so Edith was allowed a long holiday. But the longest
holiday must have an end, and the last day of Miss
Barter's absence had now arrived.
Edith ran restlessly from the conservatory to the
drawing-room; bestowing her admiration anew upon
fragrant hot-house plants, Indian pagodas of delicately
carved ivory, rich stuffs embroidered with gold and
beetles' wings, quaint antique cabinets, filled with ob-
jects of rare and costly workmanship, until she was
fairly exhausted by her efforts to be amused, and threw
herself into an arm-chair in her mother's boudoir, where
Mrs. Osborne was resting on a chaise tongue by the
fireside. Mary stood by her side with the small paint-
ing which has already been described, but which was
now set in a plain but handsome frame, suited to its
intended place in her mother's dressing-room. Mrs.
Osborne seemed pleased with her daughter's gift, and
Mary looked supremely happy.
Just then her father entered the room, and, looking
at the picture, "Is this your work?" asked he of Mary,
On being answered in the affirmative; "There is a
great deal of talent both in the composition and
colouring," said he, and I hope you will do one for
my dressing-room too. I shall like much to have it
%lore."
Mary blushed with pleasure at her father's praise,
but she observed with pain a cloud passing over her
mother's brow, as Mr. Osborne inquired whether Edith
had any talent for drawing. Though Mrs. Osborne had
of late been somewhat softened in her feelings towards
Mary, yet she could not endure that there should, even






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

by implication, be any comparison unfavourable to her
darling Edith.
"No," replied she, "but she has a delightful talent
for music, and has the promise of a charming voice.
You must remember that she is a mere child yet, and
we must not expect too much from her."
"I am afraid she is an idle little puss," said Mr.
Osborne, smiling good-naturedly at her, and likes play
better than work."
"I am going to take you both out for a drive in the
park," said Mrs. Osborne to her daughters, "and you
may go and put on your things."
Scarcely had they left the room when she observed
to her husband, that he must take care not to spoil
Mary by praising her too much, as she was just at an
age when it was dangerous to bring young girls too
forward.
There does not seem to me much peril in that
quarter," replied Mr. Osborne, for Mary is rather shy
and timid. Edith is far more likely to be easily spoiled,
as she seems pretty well satisfied with herself, and never
hesitates to give her opinion on any matter that may
be discussed before her."
You must not be hard upon that poor child," said
Mrs. Osborne. She is so much admired by every
one, that it is natural, perhaps, that she should be a
little spoiled; but that will all wear off when she gets
more sense."
"Well, my dear, you, of course, must know best;
but I have always understood that vanity does not
diminish as a young lady advances in her teens. Ihope
that whatever personal advantages they may either lack
or possess, they will both turn out amiable, sensible





PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

women, and then they will prove a comfort to us in
our advancing years."
Life went on for about a couple of years in an easy
course at the mansion in Eaton Square. Mary and
Edith were busily engaged with the best masters under
Miss Barter's kind superintendence, and they each
made rapid progress in their favourite accomplish-
ments. Mary devoted much of her time, also, to the
more solid branches of education. But the pretty
light-hearted Edith gave but little attention to any
study beside that of music, in which she became such a
proficient, that her talent was often exhibited and
applauded at the matinees omusicales given by her
mother. Her father having asked her one evening to
sing for him the simple melody of "Home, Sweet
Home," she excused herself by saying that she had
been taught only German and Italian music. Edith
had not yet learned the happiness of contributing to
the charm of her own domestic circle.
Mrs. Osborne became gradually more and more en-
grossed in a round of dinner and evening parties, in
which her husband often reluctantly shared, as his
time and thoughts were fully occupied by the grave
business of making money. Had Mrs. Osborne been
gifted with a common share of observation, his often-
times clouded brow and absent manner might have
awakened her anxiety. The more thoughtful Mary,
now verging on womanhood, was not unmindful of the
change in her father's aspect, and more than once he
caught her eye resting on him with a look of affection-
ate anxiety. At such times he would begin to talk in
an unconcerned tone on some ordinary topic, so as to
disarm her suspicions.






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

Mrs. Osborne, herself, was startled one day by the
sternness of his manner, when, in reply to Cecil, who
petitioned for some boyish indulgence, enjoyed by many
of his comrades, he replied, that he must learn to con-
tract rather than increase his expenses; adding that
the youths of the present day were all men before
their time, and that he would have none of that sort of
extravagance in his family. The tone in which he
said this differed so much from his usual manner that
his wife looked at him with surprise. He observed her
glance, and hastily left the room. Cecil said that there
were storms brewing in the higher atmosphere, and that
he would retreat as fast as possible from their nearer
approach. Mrs. Osborne, who loved her husband too
well to suffer even a covert allusion that was unfavour-
able to him, desired Cecil to remember that his father
had always a good reason for his decisions, and that he
must not presume to question them. Cecil whistled
and left the room. Little did Mrs. Osborne surmise
how full of serious reality was the metaphor which had
been so lightly made use of by her son!



S I,
ADVERSE DAYS.

A FEW days subsequent to the conversation that has just
been related, Mr. Osborne was sitting in his study with
a pile of papers before him, some of which he was in-
vestigating with an anxious perplexed look, when a gentle
tap was heard at his door. "Come in," he cried out.
Mary entered the room, bearing in her hands a small





PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

picture. "You asked me long ago," she said, to do a
painting for your dressing-room; but until now, I have
failed in my attempts to accomplish anything that in the
least satisfied me. My master said yesterday that this
was my very best; and so I hope you will kindly give
it a place in your room. I wish I had been able to do
something more worthy of a place there."
"Come, let me look at it, my child," said Mr.
Osborne, drawing her gently towards him. "More
worthy !" he exclaimed; it is quite a chef-d'ceuvre, and
ought to be placed in a public exhibition rather than
be hidden in my room. And the subject is so fresh and
pleasing! Let me see. There is a cottager's wife
standing at her door, with an infant in her arms, while
with one hand she shades her eyes from the evening
sun that she may the better discern her husband, who
is returning home from his work, with a spade over his
shoulder-a pleasing subject, and poetically rendered
too; all bespeaks peace and contentment. The house-
dog is, I perceive, already wagging his tail with canine
delight; and the overshadowing ash-tree is tinged with
golden hues by the setting sun. The sight of such
simple happiness will help to cheer me when I am
overdone with the cares and toils of business. But,
Mary, you seem to have a great liking for cottages; how
would you like to live in one ?"
Mary was struck by the seriousness of her father's
face as he asked this question.
I love the country very much," she replied, and
could live happily in the smallest house, where I had
you and mamma with me."
Mr. Osborne gazed earnestly at her for a moment.
" Mary," said he, "I cannot bear to tell ill news to your














'Iii II i




II



























MAYS PICTURE






PEEJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.


dear mother-she is so ill able to bear it; and yet it
must be broken to her, before long, that she will have
to give up her house, carriage, and retinue of servants,
and live in a quiet humble way to which she has never
been accustomed. I do not wish the public prints to
acquaint her first that her husband is likely to be a
bankrupt."
A bankrupt!" re-echoed Mary, looking pale and
startled, for .she had no experience in matters of busi-
ness; and the idea of bankruptcy was associated in her
minrl with guilt and disgrace.
Mr. Osborne quickly read her fears, and allayed
them by saying, "Thank God, however, I have done
nothing to disgrace my family or tarnish my own good
name. If I am ruined, it is owing chiefly to the un-
principled recklessness of others whom I trusted too
implicitly,"
Ah, dearest papa! shall we not still be happy, since
we are all left to each other?" asked Mary; and then
added, in a lower and more timid voice, Other and far
higher treasures are still within our reach, such as no
evil man can rob us of now, or for ever and ever."
You are right, my child," replied he; but amid
the turmoil of business I have almost forgotten this
treasure. Perhaps my present misfortune may teach
me to value it more. But what are we to do about your
mother? Who shall break this sad affair to her ?"
You, papa," replied Mary, in a tone of decision not
habitual to her; she loves you so dearly that it is best
she should hear it from your own lips. It would not
do for me," added she, colouring, to speak to her of
it; otherwise, I would gladly save you the trial of doing
so."






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.


You are right," said Mr. Osborne; "and I will do
so at once." Then pressing his lips on his daughter's
fair open brow, he smiled sadly as he said, "Wherever
may be my home, your painting shall be my daily com-
fort. It will remind me of what you have been now
saying. God bless you, my child," said he, gravely, as
Mary left the room.
The task of acquainting his wife with their reverse
of fortune proved in some respects less painful than Mr.
Osborne had anticipated. Mrs. Osborne was, in many
respects, a weak woman, but she was devotedly attached
to her husband; and a true wifely affection is a marvel-
lous strengthener and refiner in times of sorrow or dis-
appointment. After the first shock was over, she
thought chiefly of her husband's trials, nor did she
yet realize the many privations and mortifications that
must await her in so total a change of circumstances.
The mansion in Eaton Square, with its costly furni-
ture, was sold; Mary employing some pocket-money
she had treasured up for other purposes, in preserving,
through Miss Barter's agency, her mother's pretty work-
table and a couple of easy chairs which her parents were
wont to occupy by their evening fireside.
Mrs. Osborne was much pained by the passionate
regrets expressed by Edith at the change in their cir-
cumstances; and yet, with all her wonted fondness, she
made excuses for her when she overheard Mr. Osborne
reprove her for her selfish sorrow. The peaceful con-
tentedness of her sister spoke, however, more powerfully
to her heart than his well-merited rebuke.
Unclouded prosperity had not been favourable to
Edith's character. Perhaps the hour of adversity may
have some happier and wiser lesson in store for her.





PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

Mr. Osborne had engaged a small house in the
neighbourhood of London, from whence lie could reach
the city daily by railway. And now the day arrived
when they had to remove to their new home. It
was a trying moment for all, when a cab drove up
to the door for the purpose of conveying them to the
railway station. Mary was pale, but perfectly calm.
Tears sped their silent way down Mrs. Osborne's cheeks,
though she sought to conceal them from her husband's
anxious eyes; Edith was convulsed with sobs which she
vainly strived to check. Mary put her arm gently
around her, and whispered to her, "Dearest Edith, you
have us all still to love, and won't you help me to cheer
mamma?"
Yes, I will try to do so," murmured out Edith,
as she received Bully's cage, which Anne had handed
into the carriage, and then seemed intent on taking care
of her little favourite. A very brief railway journey
brought them close to their new home, one of a row of
small houses, rejoicing in the name of Prospect Terrace.
although the only view they afforded was a small patch
of flower garden in front, and a few dusty shrubs which
partially concealed the road outside. Mrs. Osborne
smiled faintly as her husband handed her out of the cab,
and led her up to the hall door, on either side of which
was a bow window lighting the two small sitting-rooms,
into one of which Mr. Osborne conducted his wife, and
placed her near the open window in her own easy chair,
close to which was placed her pretty work-table. Cecil,
who looked graver than usual, laid down upon it a small
basket of violets, which he had gone to seek for in some
distant lanes.
"You are all too kind to me," said she, in a more






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

cheerful tone than might have been expected from her.
This is really a charming little apartment, and Mary's
picture looks so well over the chimney-piece! But
what does all this mean ? Here are our two easy chairs
and my pretty work-table."
These are Mary's gifts," replied Mr. Osborne, turn-
ing towards his eldest daughter, who was standing be-
hind her mother, and seemed half ashamed to acknow-
ledge her gifts.
Mary's!" exclaimed Mrs. Osborne; "I do not de-
serve such thoughtful love from her. These will be more
precious to me than all the costly furniture we have
lately possessed."
So saying, she embraced Mary with all a mother's
tenderness, and then seating herself in the arm-chair,
took up Cecil's basket of violets, and thanked him for
his sweet and acceptable present.
"I alone have nothing to offer you, dearest mamma,"
said Edith, in a plaintive tone; "but," she whispered in
her ear, "I mean to try and be more like Maiy if I
can."
Do so, my darling, and that will make me happier
than all the gifts you could offer me."



VH.

SUNSHINE IN THE NEW HOME.

MRs. OSBORNE had borne wonderfully well the first
shock of change in their fortune, but during her hus-
band's daily absence from home, and amid the petty
difficulties caused by a straitened income, her spirit gave






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

way, and she would sometimes lament their present
altered condition in a way that pained and distressed
Mary from her inability to meet her mother's craving for
many comforts and elegancies to which she had been
accustomed all her life long. Mrs. Osborne's appetite
was indifferent, and she often turned away with disgust
from viands which were ill cooked by an inexpert ser-
vant girl. Mary purchased a cookery book, and gave a
pleasing surprise to her mother by some well-dressed
delicacy that suited her palate. Often she laid aside
her pencil or her book to perform some domestic duty
which would otherwise have been neglected, and daily
did her mother feel herself more dependent for advice
and comfort on the daughter who had once been slighted
and uncared for. If anything went wrong, she would
ask Edith, Where is Mary ? she will settle it for me."
Edith's natural jealousy was sometimes awakened
by this frequent reference to her sister, but despite her
impulsive nature she checked the unworthy feeling. So
unobtrusive, too, were Mary's services that they were
rather felt in. their result than remarked in their activity,
like the genial sunshine that animates and beautifies
nature without disturbing its stillness.
One day Mrs. Osborne lamented the want of apiano,
saying that Edith would forget her music, "and it was
such an enjoyment for me to listen to it; but there is no
use in wishing for it," added she, with a sigh, "your
father's heart seems set on saving all he can until he has
paid his creditors in full, and though it seems to me
almost a Utopian plan, yet I cannot but approve of his
decision, for it is a noble one; but I am sorry that you
both should lose some of the advantages you had gained
from good masters."






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.


Mary pondered over this wish of her mother's with
a longing desire to have it gratified. Her paintings,
some of which had been so much praised by her master,
could they not now be turned to some account? A
letter addressed to her friend Miss Barter, who was then
in London, soon decided the matter, and before many
days were over, several of her best works had been for-
warded to Miss Barter's care, and through an artist friend
favourably disposed of. How delightful was Mary's sur-
prise when she received a cheque for a hundred pounds,
accompanied with an intimation that if a few more of her
paintings were forwarded to the same quarter, they
would be sure to find ready purchasers. Mary's heart
was filled with thankfulness and joy. Her first thought
was to procure for her mother the enjoyment she so
much desired, and remembering that a cottage piano
which had stood in her mother's boudoir, and whose
tones were peculiarly pleasing to her, had been disposed
of to a pianoforte seller, she wrote once more to Miss
Barter, entreating her, if possible, to repurchase it with-
out delay. Gladly was the request complied with, and
by return of post Mary was informed that this favourite
instrument had been obtainedfor forty pounds, and would
be forwarded without delay to Prospect Terrace. Mary's
heart beat high with anticipation of its arrival. It
chanced the same evening that Mr. Osborne told his wife
with evident concern that he had decided on withdrawing
Cecil from Rugby, and placing him at a cheaper school.
"I regret this much," said he, "for another year
there would have completed his school life, but it can-
not be helped."
Mrs. Osborne looked sad and downcast. "You must
know best what is right to do," she said; but I wish,
for poor Cecil's sake, it could have been avoided."






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.

Edith cast an imploring look at her father to see
whether his decision was irrevocable. Mary's cheeks
glowed with anxiety and emotion, and scarcely dared to
speak out her plans and hopes.
"Papa," said she, with a trembling voice, "how
much more would Cecil's schooling for the next year
cost at Rugby than at the school where you mean to
place him ?"
At least fifty or sixty pounds, and that is too much
for me to sacrifice at the present moment."
But if I could pay that sum for him, would you
permit me to do so ?"
You, my dear child! where on earth do you expect
to find such a large sum ? Have you discovered a gold
mine ?" asked her father, smiling at what he deemed to
be some visionary idea of his daughter's.
"I have it here," replied she, placing in her father's
hands bank-notes to the amount of sixty pounds.
Mr. and Mrs. Osborne looked at each other with
amazement.
"What does this mean?" inquired her father gravely.
I have received this sum for a few paintings," re-
plied Mary, half unwilling to allude to the source of her
wealth.
"My dear, my noble daughter!" exclaimed Mr.
Osborne, folding her in his arms.
Mrs. Osborne burst into tears. "My own darling
Mary," said she, how unworthy I am of having such
a treasure left me !"
Pray, pray, don't speak thus," said Mary, attempt-
ing to soothe her mother, who bestowed on her a most
fond embrace.
Hollo! what is all this kissing about ?" exclaimed
cecil, who had been spending the day out, and just






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.


entered the room. "Have you been falling out and
making it up again ?"
No," replied his father gravely. "I will tell you
what it is about. Your sister Mary has just handed me
sixty pounds to obviate the necessity of your being
removed from Rugby, as I felt compelled to do by my
present straitened circumstances."
Mary gave it?"
Yes, she earned it by her paintings; so you see that
the name of Wisdom' you bestowed upon her long ago
was no unfitting one, for she has proved the wisest of us
all."
Cecil looked grave, and then said to his sister, How
can I thank you enough for what you are doing for me ?
for indeed it would have been a sore struggle for me to
leave old Rugby for any other school." Then brighten-
ing up, he added, Henceforth I shall liken you to the
good fairy who never spoke without letting pearls and
diamonds fall out of her mouth; or, rather, I shall call
you my guardian angel. Let me see," touching her
shoulders playfully, "whether there are any wings
sprouting out here."
Mary felt bewildered and oppressed by the love and
thanks which seemed to pour out from all sides upon
her, but it was sweet and restful to her to remember
from whom that talent came by which she was enabled
so unexpectedly to benefit her family.
A new surprise awaited Mrs. Osborne on the follow-
ing morning; when, on entering the drawing-room,
she beheld her own pretty cottage piano at one end of
the room. She stood transfixed with surprise. The
rest of the party had already been made acquainted
with this purchase, and watched with pleasure her de-
lighted astonishment.






PREJUDICE LOST, AND LOVE WON.


"What does this mean ?" inquired she, looking
around her.
It is a gift to you, dearest mamma; I hope you will
not refuse to gratify me by accepting it."
This is really too much; I cannot bear to have all
your earnings spent upon me; but you have given me
back one of the enjoyments I most longed for, and it
will be all the more prized as coming from my beloved
daughter."
"Was I not right in comparing her to that good
fairy ?" asked Cecil of his mother. "I shall keep a
sharp look-out to see she does not drop any jewels out
of her mouth."
All this time Edith stood looking half grave, half
delighted at all that was passing around her. She took
advantage of a moment's silence to seat herself at the
piano and sing, in her sweetest tones, "Home, Sweet
Home," the song for which her father had vainly asked
in more prosperous days. Her parents listened with
delight; bat to no ears did this melody sound so sweet
as to hers from whom this new source of enjoyment had
been derived.




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