Title Page
 The calumet
 The voice of nature
 The peacock
 The millers' daughter

Title: child's jewels, the emerald
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00056710/00001
 Material Information
Title: child's jewels, the emerald
Series Title: child's jewels, the emerald
Physical Description: Book
Publisher: Leavitt & Allen
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Bibliographic ID: UF00056710
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
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Resource Identifier: ltuf - ANE6113
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Table of Contents
    Title Page
        Title Page 1
        Title Page 2
    The calumet
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
    The voice of nature
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
    The peacock
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
    The millers' daughter
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
Full Text









11119114 W v 2. Ant s( -Clm A tumYa I
in Ckok's Ode o(,h. nuito Cnt r i United staes
a and L*w UL Swilbefs Dgani of uf4Nw YTaL

staraoI d by RB sI@d & svas,
12 Cla-dof Aot, T.



LOILA, the only daughter of the
chief Panito, had been taught by
her mother to love everything, and
to look with delight upon nature, in
its ever-varying beauty. In early
childhood, when she first noticed
the rud6 decorations of their wig-
wam, her mother, as she placed the
calumet in her tiny hands, told her
it was the token of kindness, and



bade her ever love it, for she would
thus please the Great Spirit. And
when the little girl pointed to the
hatchet, and asked what was that,
her mother clasped her in her arms,
and told her a sad tale of war, where
her own father and brother were
killed by this bloody instrument;
and then, turning to the pipe of
peace, she said: "Ever love this.
Had my brother and father kept this
token, they had not fallen in battle."
Loila wept at the story, and then
promised her mother always to cher-
ish peace.
The teachings of Loila were all

"Tn O&AVw T. 7

of gentleness and love; for her
mother, having suffered deeply rom
Otrife among her kindred, had beea
taught by her afflictions the evils of
war. By reading the book of na-
ture and providence, her heart un-
folded to the law of love discerned
in everything around her. Often
would she direct her little girl to
the glorious sun, as an emblem of
the Great Father, shedding his light
and warmth equally on all below.
It seemed as if the Indian mother
knew she would soon leave her little
one, so earnest and indefatigable
was she in her instructions. One

8 T~n CALmIT.

day, when Loila was about twelve
yem old, she returned home from a
ramble in the woods, and running t*
her mother, with an expression of
great delight, exclaimed," See what
the Great Spirit has sent us I"
With surprise and awe, the moth-
er beheld a flower, a most beautiful
and perfect representation of the
calumet, or pipe of peace. "I have
desired for my dear child a life of
peace," said she, after admiring it
awhile in silence, "and the Great
Spirit has sent me this token that
my prayer is heard. He has made
this little flower to spring up in


your path, to show that your mi-
*ion on earth is one of lore and
When autumn came the mother
drooped. Loila watched by her
.side with the most anxious solid-
tude and tender care. With taste-
ful elegance, she would arrange the
wild flowers around the apartment,
for she knew her mother's love for
them, and the companionship she
found in them.
Reclining upon a mat at the door
of the lodge, while a brilliant an-
tumnal sun was throwing his setting
rays upon the group around, lay the



Indian mother, the wife of Panito
just ready to depart for the spirit-
land. Her eye glanced from her
husband to herchild, and then, with
a significant look she pointed to
the calumet, which always adorned
the walls. Loila understood her
look, and immediately gave it to her.
With a last effort of expiring na-
ture, she clasped it with something
of the devotion which a Romanist
feels for the crucifix, and expired.
Loila longed to go, likewise, to
the spirit-land, for her mother's com-
panionship was unlike that of the
associates around her. Her father


was stern and fierce. He loved his
daughter with deep devotion; but
his manners and deportment had al-
ways more of the warrior than the
father, as his thoughts were always
more absorbed with the interests of
his tribe, than with those of his own
family. Not long was Loilapermit-
ted to visit her mother's grave. A
warbroke out with theMassawomies,
and the gentle girl followed her fa-
ther reluctantly, to witness scenes
of cruelty and bloodshed. The In-
dian mode of warfare is by lying in
ambush, and attacking the enemy
secretly and by statagem; and their


wars often continue for many years.
A deadly hostility had long existed
between the Kahtabas and Massa-
womies. Two years they had been
hunting each other as beasts of
prey; but now the bold and cruel
chief of the Massawomies, who had
been the terror and scourge of all
the neighboring tribes, was dead.
His honors and his courage were
claimed by Oleon, his son, who was
better known by the name of Black
Hawk. To him the tribe already
began to look up, as an intrepid
.leader in their battles, and an ac-
cepted chief in their councils, though


mow a youth of scarcely twenty
summers. His feats of daring, hi.
singular endurance, and his martial
spirit, inspired their confidence.
When, however, it was known to
the Kahtabas that the Bald Eagle
was dead, the council-fire was light-
ed, and the chiefs assembled to de-
termine what course to pursue tow-
ard their enemies. Should they
now send the calumet, and propoeN
peace, or, the Bald Eagle being t-
ken out of the way, should they,
with renewed energy and zeal, pros
ecute the war, and exterminate their
hated rials I


Panito was the first to speak.
Friends and brothers: The
Great Spirit has taken away our
great enemy. He has uprooted the
mighty oak of the forest, that has
been planting itself for nearly a
hundred years in the earth. He
bids us now arise, and cut down the
young sapling that sprung from its
roots. Though our numbers are
greatly diminished by our long and
wasting strife, the war will now soon
come to an end, for the Great Spirit
is on our side."
An aged chief arose. His words
were always regarded with venera-


tion. All waited, with earnest at-
tention, for his utterance. Moaing
long, he looked around on the es-
sembled chiefs, and said:-
"Friends and children: Where
is the Red Bird I Where i Swift
Deer I Where is Talula the fear-
less I Where are the fathers of our
ancient tribe t The leaves of an-
tumn cover them. Theyhave fallen
in the strife with our enemies.
Does not the Great Spirit call us-to
peace 1 Let us send the calumet
to the youthful chief, and tell him
we are brothers. This is my


After a long pause, a youthful
warrior stood up, and said:-
Father, your talk is good; and
if the frosts of winter were upon all
our heads, as they are upon yours,
we should be content to bury the
hatchet, and die in peace. But our
fathers must be avenged. The mor
of Red Bird, of Swift Deer, of Ta-
lula, are here. In them their fa-
thers live again; and they can not
lie down in peace, in their graves,
while the enemy that slew them
There was silence for a long time.
No one spoke. At length the chief


aose, and left the council. "At the
signal, they all departed, each to
reflect alone, before the final decis-
ion should be made.
Panito returned to his lodge, with
a firm determination to prosecute
the war. His eye flashed with un-
wonted spirit, and his form seemed
to dilate with thoughts of success,
which he doubted not would now
crown his arms in battle. Con-
scious of the superior courage and
prowess of the Bald Eagle, he had
never felt the confidence, and the
spirit-stirring energy, that now
nerved his soul for a ce tn triumph.

18 TEr CALUTr.

Why should he fear I Oleon was
young and inexperienced. The
charm of the name of Bald Eagle
wa no longer with-the red men,
who had regarded him as a wizard,
and trusted to his strength and skill
as something more than mortal.
His own people, the Katahbas
would no longer be oppressed with
the fear of that charmed name.
Why should not Panito feel cour-
age and confidence. He wa re.
solved, and nothing should turn him

Lola, the beautiful daughter of
Pauito, wawwaitg his return fom


the council. By nature, gentle and
loving, she longed for peace. The
war-whoop had no music for her ear.
The war-dance it grieved her to
behold. There was no cord in her
soul, that harmonized with the rude
sounds and terrific sights of the bat-
tie-field. She flew, with a bound-
ing step, to greet her father's return
from the council; but when she read
the expression of defiance, and im-
movable resolve in his countenance,
her eye drooped in sadness, and the
gathering smile fled from her lips.
"Will not the hatchet now be
buried 1" she timily inquired.


"Never," was the stern reply,
Still our chiefs become women, or
our enemies are destroyed. Let
Loila prepare her father for the
Loila loved her father with her
whole heart. She was his only
child, the joy and charm of his life.
And for her, he would -cheerfully
have shed the last drop of his blood.
There was but one sentiment in his
soul, that was deeper and stronger
than his affection for his child; and
that was the warrior's thirst for re-
Deeply and keenly did Loila feel


the brief, stern, decided reply, which
assured her that her cherished hope,
her fervent prayer, would not be
realized. She had caught the echo
of the old sachem's pacific words.
They were in harmony with every
feeling of her heart, and she re-
ceived them with the reverence and
awe due to a message from the
Loila passed a sleepless night,
occupied with earnest petitions to
the Great Spirit, to grant peace to
her beloved people, and to preserve
her father from the perils of another
hopeless conflict with the invincible


Massawomies. Morning came, and
when she prepared her father's fru-
gal repast, she placed the calumet
upon the mat before him. Panito
understood the mute token-the
remembrance of his wife, her win-
ning tones of love and peace. Her
last moments, too, came to his rec-
ollection; and, turning to his daugh-
ter, he said: "Beam of the sun,
earth is no place fur you. You will
soon go to your mother."
Loila left the wigwam, to visit
her mother's grave, and renew her
solemn assurance to regard her in-
structions, ever to pray that her


people would bury the hatchet, and
smoke the pipe of peae. Decora-
ting her mother's grave with the
symbol that she loved, (the wild
lower called the calumet), she en-
tered the forest with a sad heart.
But, as youth is easily impressible,
the song of the birds, the beauty
of the lowers, the gorgeous foliage
of the trees, the broad blue canopy
of heaven-all awakened her soul
to harmony and beauty. She be-
came hopeful and happy, and bound-
ed forward with light step and gay
heart, plucking the wild lowers,
and chanting an ever-varying soeg,


like a bird just let loose from his
prisor.-cge, and eager to try his
merry notes and powerful wing.
The sumac and the mountain-ash
were despoiled of their treasures;
and she came, laden with flowers,
to the bank of the river, and seated
herself to arrange them in a bou-
quet, amusing herself in giving
names to these floral treasures.
The sumac was her father. The
mountain-ash was the old sachem,
her uncle-most beautiful in* old
age. The aster and the primrose
found each a prototype.among her


She was busily engaged in this
fanciful manner, when, starting
up to decorate herself by the
glassy mirror before her, she saw
reflected, in its polished surface,
the form of an Indian warrior
who stoo just above her, on a little
promontory which jutted from an
angle in the river. A cloak was
thrown over one shoulder; and he
stood, statue-like, gazing upon the
beautiful maiden.
Should she fly I* He was, per-
haps, a foe. But whither 1 Her
father was not near her. If she
must become a captive, she would


not long live; and to her, death
would be welcome.
The stranger approached; and
Loila, with graceful courtesy,
plucked a calumet from her bou-
que, amdresented it.
With inimitable gracethe stran-
ger received the offering. Long he
gased with awe and admiration up-
on the lovely girl, the personification
of his night-vision. He had dreamed
that he visited this spot, and be-
held a maiden 'who presented him
a calumet, and warned him to keep
it, as his destiny, and the prosper-
ity of his tribe, depended upon the


manner in which he regarded it.
Was she an unearthly being I
After a long pause, Oleon-for
it was he-spoke.
Came you from thea irit-land t
"From its portal- y mother's
grave-- come."
"What message bring you 1"
"Twice have the forest-leaves
become butterflies, since my mother
left me with this token, as a gift
from the Great Spirit. Will you
keep it I"
"Oleou accepts it-Oleon will
preserve it."
Astonished at the atmouncement


of his name, Loila timidly replied:
"The lone dove of Panito is the
captive of the Black Hawk."
"Never! Oleon will send the
calumet to Panito."
Oleon accompanied Loila through
the forest; and then giving her a
black plume from his coronet of
feathers, as a token to her father,
he departed with firm resolve to
seek friendship with his old enemy.
When Loila recounted her inter-
view with Oleon, and presented the
token he sent, to her father, the old
chief was astonished at the warning
revelation made to him to seek


peace. Honoring the noble foe,
who protected his beloved child,
and restored her to him, he deter-
mined to accept the proffered friend-
ship of the young chief.
Loila's prayer was heac. Black
Hawk fiulflled his promise, and
tendered the pipe of peace to the
Kahtaba tribe. It was received;
and prosperity and peace were long
continued to both nations.


Tas voioe o the mountaln
The voice of the grove,
The iream ad the fonataia,
Af vooe of love I
The flower in s weenesm,
The bird in is lays
The d i n his 6eehtnes
Ae atteing praise.

The spring in her femhness
Of vterdr and bloom
And maner, al ioese,
And breeing pwrham
Gray eatmu, low-beding
Wkh e. rishlr do* mt"
Are eb aIn turn sending
Wear pries to eaves.

I1 1-




OnE bright, beautiful day, i
June, as Mr. Gilmore and his on I
Frederick were riding in tho de-
lightful environs of Boston, they
passed a small cottage, which, of t-
self would not have attracted their
attention. It was very humble in
. appearance, having a rude porch
Front, with seats on each side.
Its somewhat extensive grounds

36 TI PR AcocL.

wes re Aed with a simple paling,
and were all laid out for profitable
cultivation, with only so much at-
tention to ornament as they could
ford to give, who were constantly
employed in the necessary labors
of husbandry.
Look, father I look said Fred-
erick; what splendid bird is that 1
Only look at the brilliant hues of
his feathers It surely must be a
peacock. I never saw anything so
beautiful. Will you, dear father,
atop and let me look at him 1"
Mr. Gilmore drew up his horsn
at the gate, and gave Frederick an


opportunity to satisfy higpiosity
with a more particular examination
of the peacock. On looking toward
the house, Frederick saw a little
boy seated in the porch, apparently
much interested in noticing him, a
if wondering how he should be so
much attracted by the gay color of
the peacock.
"Is this your peacock 4" asked
Mr. Gilmore.
"Yes, sir," he replied, and was
about to say something more, when
# mother came to the door, not
sowing that he had any company
there. Mr. Gilmore addressed her


courteously, and explained the rea-
son of his stopping at her gate.
She replied that Willie was lame,
and his father had purchased this
peacock to amuse him. It was a
great amusement and company for
him, for many weeks; but Willie is
now almost tired of looking at bis
bird from morning till night.
Oh I should never be tired of
such a beautiful thing," said Fred-
erick. "See how he spreads his
feathers; and look at the rich,
glossy neck, so gracefully arched
and such brilliant, changeable colort
I know I should never be tired."


Tsa rianoc. 99
Little Willie's eye brightened,
and his countenance indicated great
pleasure at the admiration express-
ed for his pet.
Mr. Gilmore bowed respectfully,
and rode on, Frederick expatiating,
all the way home, on the beauty of
Willie's peacock. I
Every day, in their afternoon's
ride, Frederick would request that
his father would allow him to stop
at the gate and see the peacock;
and every day they found the little
# y sitting in the same place, and
Ways seeming very glad to see
them, as if he had been waiting for


them to come. At last, a strong-
er interest was awakened for lit-
tle Willie, than for his beautiful
"Father," said Frederick, "will
you let me stop a few minutes, and
talk with Willie 1-he looks so sad
and lonely."
Yes, my boy, most willingly. I
shall be glad, if you can do anything
to give pleasure to one who is un-
fortunate. I dare say, he will be
quite pleased with a good-natured
little companion."
Frederick jumped from the chaise,
and opened the wicket gate. Little


Willie had watched with eager in-
terest for the stranger's carriage,
and was overjoyed when he saw
Frederick approaching.
"Have you come to see my pea-
cock 1" he inquired.
'"Yes, and you, too,". said Fred-
erick, with a tone of affectionate
kindness. "I thought, as you sit
all alone, you would like my com-
pany a little while, better than the
Indeed, I should; for my father
and mother are at work all day, and
I sit here alone. I often wish I
could have somebody to talk with,


or to tell me stories. I can not
walk, and I can not read."
When Frederick heard this, he
felt deeply for the poor boy, and he
determined at once to endeavor to
instruct him. He inquired if he
would like tq learn to read, and found
that it was what he desired more
than anything else.
The next morning, at the break-
fast table, Frederick asked his fa-
ther if there could not be some way
contrived to enable Willie to move
about. His lower limbs were
nearly useless, so that he could
not use crutches, like some lame

T*r rPIAcoC. 43

boys, because he had nothing to
sustainn him while he moved his
I have been thinking of that,"
sa)d Mr. Gilmore; "and I have
formed a plan, in my own mind, for
a kind of locomotive, which I think I
would be just the thing for him. It
should be made with three wheels,
one of them being placed in front, i
like that of a common wheelbarrow.
By means of two canes, he could
push it along with his hands, and,
when it was necessary to turn it
about, or change its direction, he
could place his two canes under the


axle of the forward wheel, and pry
it round as fr as he wished."
Frederick did not fully understand
the plan; but he did not doubt that
it was good, for he had great confi-
dence in his father's ingenuity.
Good I my dear father," he ex-
claimed; "how nice that will be.
I think, too, I can help to make it;
and I will give all the money I have,
which is three dollars, to pay for the
wheels. But, father, Willie can not
read; and, with your permission, I
will go every afternoon and teach
This promise Frederick kept

Tre PrACOCK. 45

&ithfully, and in a few months Wil-
lie could read well. And, 0 what
a comfort it was to have a book,
when he was all alone. It was
company to him all the time; and
Frederick had a great many inter-
esting books, which he was glad to
lend him. The carriage, too, was
made, and Frederick had the
pleasure of carrying it to the cot-
tage. *
"Come, Willie," he criedas he
pushed the odd-looking wagon into
the gate, come, and see if you can
manage to move about in this funny-
looking, three-legged box, which

46 Trn PACooCK.

father and I have been making for
Willie was in ecstasies. He was
taken by surprise; for they had not
told him anything about it, while it
was making. He climbed in, and
took his canes and gave a push--
and away he went, quite across the
yard. Frederick showed him how
to steer and manage it, and, in a
little while, he became s expert in
the use of it, that he felt almost as
happy as if he could walk. He
rambled about the yard a little
while, and then, to the surprise and
delight of his mother, drove directly


into the house, where she was at
work. The good woman would
scarcely have felt more surprise,
had her son flown with a pair of
wings into the room. It is hard to
describe the joy and gratitude of
both parents and child. They, hav-
ing regarded their boy as doomed
to a life of helpless inactivity, to
have him suddenly possessed of the
power df motion, and able to amuse
and employ himself, was almost
wonderful, and almost as much a
matter of joy and gratitude, as if his
limbs had been restored by a mir-

48 THIa rPnoco.

Frederick left them to the full
enjoyment of this new blessing,
though he still continued his visits
to the cottage, and enjoyed that
greatest of all luxuries, the satisfac-
tion of knowing that he had not only
made another happy, but rendered
a real and lasting service to an un-
fortunate fellow-creature.
"Mother, how can I repay Mr.
Gilmore and his son for their kind-
ness 1" said Willie, one day, after
he had returned from a long ramble
about the village. "I think I will
carry young Frederick my peacock.
It is the only thing I have. I can


take it to him in my cart, and travel
into Boston myself And I am sure
it would please the kind-hearted
boy, and his father, too, to see how
a poor boy, who, a few weeks ago,
could not move a step, or help him-
self in the least, can now, through
their kindness, travel about any-
where, and even go into the city


"HELP I sir, help cried a
hoarse, creaking voice, which was
almost drowned by the roar.of the
water, as I passed Deacon John-
son's mill.
Where away 1- who are you r'
I replied.
"Help oh, help! I shall be
In some alarm, I searched all


ab %t, to find the source from which
tho voice came. As it spoke of
drowning, it must, of course, be Rear
the water. But the mill was closely
planked up on the side toward the
road, and the water could only be
seen as it dashed away below the
great wheel, and went foaming
along into the brook.
I tried the great door of the mill;
but it was locked, and the key waa
gone, though the gate was up, and
the great wheel was driving round
at a furious rate, as if the deacon
himself were waiting for his grist.
"Help I help I" was still the cry.
I .. .. -


Where are you I How can I
help you, when I can not find you 1"
"- the mill t"
What part of the mill 1"
"- the mill I"
I listened intently for another
call; and, amid the deafening roar
of the water, thought I could hear
it say, "Under the mill."
The question then was, how can
I get under the mill 1 The water
was dashing, in all its fury, along
that side which was nearest the
road, and there was no getting
round it. After some time, I con-
cluded I would try to get over to


the other side, where I might, per-
haps, see what was going on under
the mill, and contrive some means
of relief I. made a little raft of
boards, and by help of a long pole,
pushed my way over, at some dis-
tance below the mill.
I then ran up along the bank,
screaming out, at the top of my
voice, Where are you 1"
There was no reply. I could not
get near the object of my search, for
the mill was about fifteen feet from
the bank on that side, and the water
was deep. What should I do I I
could not bear to leave a fellow.


creature to perish, while there was
a possibility of a rescue.
After a few moments, I returned
to my raft, and hastened over to the
other side. I then crept along the
wall, crying out, Where are you I"
"Here, under the mill," was 'the
fint reply.
How came you there 1" and I
put my ear to a crack for the an-
U Mary Johnson shut me in."
Ah I Mary Johnson, thought I;
though you are the deacon's oldest
daughter, I have known you for a
wld, mischievous, romping girl, and


this is one of your pranks. But
what shall I do I was just about
to run down to the deacon's, to get
the key, when the poor prisoner,
supposing I was abandoning the
search, cried out again, "Help I
At this moment, Farmer Green
came in eight, with an axe on his
shoulder. I ran to him, and told
him my story. He hastened with
me to the mill.
"Who are you he screamed,
putting his ear to the crack.
Mr. Mason," was the reply.
"I do declare," said Former


Green, "as true as I'm alive, it is
our good minister. What will Mary
Johnson come to 1"
"She is a sad child," said I,
though I could not help laughing,"
inwardly, at the joke.
Mr. Green was about lifting his
axe, to cut away the plank, when
Deacon Johnson, with his daughter,
and two or three men, were seen
coming down the road.
"These are pretty doings, dea-
con," said the bluff old farmer.
"What do you think that wild-cat
daughter of yours will come to 1"
"She will come to no harm," re-


plied the deacon, coolly, if she
always behaves as well as she has
"I don't know what you call well,
deacon; but I don't believe thl
church will agree with you, or the
parish either."
"Neither the parish, nor the
church, have anything to do with my
affairs. A thief is a thief, whether
Mary catches him in the mill, or the
sheriff takes him on the highway."
So saying, he put the key to the
door, and the whole party went into
the mill. Proceeding to a trap-
door, undei the stairs, he drew out


a bolt, and opened the dopr, calling
out, "Come up, sir I"
I trembled all over with appre-
hension for my honored pastor.
"Come up, sir I" repeated the
deacon, "or some one will come
down and bring you up."
At this, a step was heard on the
ladder below. A shabby old straw
hat, and then a huge, round, red
face, appeared above the floor, the
first glance at which relieved my
fears at once, and made Farmer
Green exclaim, Well, now, if that
don't beat all natur." .
When the whole figure had

Tv MnLLUa' DAV UeT. 69

emerged from below, and the trap-
door was closed, there stood before
us one of the most loafer-looking vag-
abonds I eversaw. It was oldFrank
Mason, of -, a strolling beggar
of the lowest kind, who lived upon
what he could gather, either by
begging or stealing. Ie had not
been seen in our village for several
years; but, happening along that
day, he stepped into the mill, when
Mary was thee alone, waiting while
her father should come back from
the postoffce.
I want something to eat," said
the sorry-looking vagabond.


I have nothing here to give you,
but dry meal or corn."
Then give me some money."
"I' haven't any money.
"Your father's money, then-
give me that." As he said this, he
stepped back, and took up a large
stick that stood near the door.
Mary was alarmed; but, imme-
diately recovering herself, replied,
" Do you know wherAther's se-
cret box is 1"
"Well, come with me, and I will
show it to you." So saying, she led
him to the trap-door, opened it, and,


pointing to a small box at the foot
of the stairs, and near the great
wheel, she said, "Go down there,
and see what you can find. But,"
she continued, looking archly at him,
"you will never tell anybody 1"
"No-trust me for that. I can
keep my own secrets," said Frank,
as he fumbled down the dark 8r 5ps.
No sooner was his head below
the floor, t. the trap was down
and bolted. Good-by, Mr. Vag-
abond," crime ary; "be sure you
keep the secret;" at the same mo-
'ment lifting the gate, and setting the
great wheel in motion, so that he <


could not escape. Then hurrying
out, she locked the door, and ran
to the village, to meet her father.
When the old vagrant came up,
drenched to the skin, Mary was the
firit to salute him. "You'll keep
that secret, won't you, sir 1"
Frank shook his rags, but made
no reply.
"What were you doing down
there 1" asked the d eon.
"You have not *1d such a wash-
ing in many a yer, Frank," said
Henry Scott, the constable. "But
come, you must go.with me."
Ah, my good deacon," exclaim-

Tfa MILLnK's rVHTntB. 63

ed the vagrant, imploringly, "you
won't send me to jail now, will fou
I only frightened your pretty daugh
ter a little."
At this, Mary ran home, while
Frank, without further parley or re-
sistance, went on with the officer.
"I tell you what, deacon," said
Farmer Green, "that's a smart girl
of yours, after all; but I was dread-
fully afraid it was our minister."
Why, hot oould you think so,
neighbor I Did Mary ever show
him any disreWect 1"
"Not that I know of-but she
never seemed to be afraid of sny-


btdy; and you know how she cut
og half the schoolmaster's cue, when
be was asleep in his chair and
how she frightened the sexton, by
putting that fish's head on the top
of the parsons chair, in the lecture-
room, which he took for a ghost-
and how she puzzled 'Squire Nor-
man, on the fourth of July, by taking
his new oration out of his hat, and
putting in one of her grandfather's
old Abrmons -and how-"
"That will do, neighbor. Mary
is a queer child, buste has the right
kind of courage, after all."

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