• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 Eppie
 Paul Dombey at school
 Tom and Maggie
 Tom Brown
 Muriel
 Ichabod Crane
 Back Cover














Title: Child classics of prose
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00082543/00001
 Material Information
Title: Child classics of prose
Physical Description: 76 p. 1 leaf of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 22 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Irving, Washington, 1783-1859 ( Author )
Craik, Dinah Maria Mulock, 1826-1887 ( Author )
Hughes, Thomas, 1822-1896 ( Author )
Eliot, George, 1819-1880 ( Author )
Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870 ( Author )
Salentin, H ( Illustrator )
O'Neill, G. B ( Illustrator )
Dieffenbach, A. H ( Illustrator )
Bouguereau, William Adolphe, 1825-1905 ( Illustrator )
Nicol, E ( Illustrator )
Leader, Benjamin Williams, 1831-1923 ( Illustrator )
Carter, S. J ( Illustrator )
Koch, Hermann ( Illustrator )
Reynolds, Joshua, 1723-1792 ( Illustrator )
Munier, E ( Illustrator )
Raphael, 1483-1520 ( Illustrator )
Ohmichen, H ( Illustrator )
Pierce, Mary R. Fitch ( Compiler )
D. Lothrop & Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: D. Lothrop Company
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: 1893
 Subjects
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1893   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1893
Genre: Children's stories
fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: compiled by Mary R. Fitch Pierce ; illustrated with full-page reproductions of famous paintings.
General Note: Illustrations by H. Salentin, G.B. O'Neill, A.H. Dieffenbach, W. A. Bouguereau, E. Nicol, B.W. Leader, S. J. Carter, Hermann Koch, Sir Joshua Reynolds, E. Munier, Rafael, H. Ohmichen.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00082543
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223112
notis - ALG3360
oclc - 214285126

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece
    Title Page
        Title Page 1
        Title Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Table of Contents
    List of Illustrations
        List of Illustrations
    Eppie
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
    Paul Dombey at school
        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
    Tom and Maggie
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
    Tom Brown
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
    Muriel
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
    Ichabod Crane
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text




Ii










io











ac-d_






















































































SHEPHERD CHILDREN.










CHILD CLASSICS



OF PROSE






COMPILED BY
MARY R. FITCH PIERCE
COMPILER OF CHILD CLASSICS "







ILLUSTRA TED WITH
FULL-PAGE REPRODUCTIONS OF FAMOUS PAINTINGS


D. LOTH


BOSTON
ROP COMPANY










































COPYRIGHT, 1893,
BY
D. LOTHROP COMPANY.
























STORIES.


EPPIE
PAUL DOMBEY AT SCHOOL
TOM AND MAGGIE
TOM BROWN
MURIEL
ICHABOD CRANE


George Eliot
Charles Dickens
George Eliot
Thomas Hughes
Dinah Maria Mulock
Washington Irving

















ILLUSTRATIONS.


SHEPHERD CHILDREN
SPARE THE WEEDS
LITTLE DUCKS
THE ELDER SISTER
BOTH PUZZLED
" FEBRUARY FILL DYKE "
AN INTERESTING FAMILY
A MAY MORNING
SAMUEL
THE FAVORITE PIGEON
CHERUB
THE VILLAGE SCHOOL


H. Salentin
G. B. O'Neill
A. H. Diefenbach
W. A. Bouguereau
E. Nicol
B. W. Leader
S. J. Carter
Hermann Koch
Sir Joshua Reynolds
E. -1/, a i, ,
Rafael
H. Ohmichen


















EPPIE.


SILAS MARNER'S determination to keep the "tramp's
child was matter of hardly less surprise in the village
than the robbery of his money. Notable mothers, who knew
what it was to be interrupted by the mischievous propensities
of children just firm on their legs, were interested in conjectur-
ing how a lone man would manage with a two-year-old child
on his hands.
Among the mothers, Dolly Winthrop was the one whose
neighborly offices were the most acceptable to Marner. Silas
had asked her what he should do about getting some clothes
for the child.
Master Marner," said Dolly, "there's no call to buy no
more nor a pair o' shoes, for I've got the little petticoats as
Aaron wore five years ago, and it's ill spending the money on
them baby-clothes, for the child 'ull grow like grass i' May,
bless it, that it will."
And the same day Dolly brought her bundle, and displayed
to Marner, one by one, the tiny garments in their due order of
succession. This was the introduction to a great ceremony









EPPIE.


with soap and water, from which Baby came out in new beauty,
and sat on Dolly's knee handling her toes, and chuckling, and
patting her palms together with an air of having made several
discoveries about herself, which she communicated by alternate
sounds of gug-gug-gug," and "mammy."
"Anybody 'ud think the angils in Heaven couldn't be
prettier," said Dolly, rubbing the golden curls and kissing
them. And to think of its being covered wi' them dirty rags,
and the poor mother froze to death. The door was open, and
it walked in over the snow, like as if it had been a little starved
robin. Didn't you say the door was open ? "
"Yes," said Silas meditatively. "Yes; the door was open.
The money's gone, I don't know where, and this is come from
I don't know where."
"Ah!" said Dolly, with soothing gravity, "it's like the
night and the morning, and the sleeping and the waking, and
the rain and the harvest-one goes and the other comes, and we
know nothing how nor where. I've a bit o' time to spare most
days, so I'll come and see to the child for -,ou, and welcome."
Thank you kindly," said Silas, leaning forward to look at
Baby with some jealousy, as she was resting her head back-
ward against Dolly's arm, and eying him contentedly from a
distance, but I want to do things for it myself, else it may
get fond o' somebody else, and not fond o' me. I can learn,
I can learn."
To be sure," said Dolly gently. I've seen men as are
wonderful handy wi' children. You see this goes first," pro-
ceeded Dolly, taking up the little shirt and putting it on.









EPPIE.


"Yes," said Mirtin!- docilely, bringing his eyes very close;
wheieup- n Baby seized his head with both her small arms, and
put her lips against his face with purring noises.
See there," said Dolly, with a woman's tender tact, she's
fondest o' you. She wants to go o' your lap, I'll be bound.
Go, then. Take her, Master Marner; you can put the things
on, and then you can say as you've done for her from the first
of her coming to you."
\llarner took her on his lap. He took the garments from
Dolly, and put them on under her teaching, interrupted, of
course, by Baby's gymnastics.
"Well, Master Marner," said Dolly, "you must fix on a
name for it."
My mother's name was Hephzibah," said Silas, "and my
little sister was named after her."
That's a hard name," said Dolly.
We called her Eppie," said Silas.
"Well, if it was noways wrong to shorten the name, it 'ud
be a deal handier. T'll go now, Master Marner, and I wish
you the best o' luck ; and it's my belief as it'll come to you, if
you do what's right by the orphin child."
'Eppie was a creature of endless claims and ever-growing
desires, seeking and loving sunshine.
When the sunshine grew strong and lasting, so that the
buttercups were thick in the meadows, Silas might be seen in
the sunny midday, or in the late afternoon, strolling out with
uncovered head to carry Eppie beyond the stone-pits to where
the flowers grew, till they reached some favorite bank where









EPPIE.


he could sit down, while Eppie toddled to pluck the flowers,
and make remarks to the winged things that murmured happily
above the bright petals, calling Dad-dad's attention con-
tinually by bringing him the flowers.
By the time Eppie was three years old, she developed a fine
capacity for mischief, and for devising ingenious ways of being
troublesome. Sorely was poor Silas puzzled on such occasions
by the incompatible demands of love. Dolly Winthrop told
him that punishment was good for Eppie, and that as for rear-
ing a child without making it tingle a little in soft and safe
places now and then, it was not to be done.
"To be sure, there's another thing you might do, Master
Marner," added Dolly meditatively; "you might shut her up
once in the coal-hole. That was what I did wi' Aaron."
It was clear that Eppie, with her short toddling steps, must
lead father Silas a pretty dance on any fine morning when
circumstances favored mischief.
He had wisely chosen a broad strip of linen as a means of
fastening her to his loom when he was busy; it made a broad
belt around her waist, and was long enough to allow of her
reaching the truckle-bed and sitting down on it, but not long
enough for her to attempt any dangerous climbing. One
bright summer's morning Silas had been more engrossed than
usual in "setting up" a new piece of work, an occasion on
which his scissors were in requisition. These scissors, owing
to an especial warning of Dolly's, had been kept carefully out
of Eppie's reach; but the click of them had had a peculiar
attraction for her ear. Silas had seated himself in his loom,












































/i;


SPARE THE WEEDS.









EPPIE.


and the noise of weaving had begun; but he had left his scis-
sors on a ledge which Eppie's arm was long enough to reach;
and now, like a small mouse, watching her opportunity, she
stole quietly from her corner, secured the scissors, and toddled
to the bed again. She had a distinct intention as to the use
of the scissors; and having cut the linen strip in a jagged but
effectual manner, in two moments she had run out at the open
door, where the sunlight was inviting her, while poor Silas
believed her to be a better child than usual. It was not until
he happened to need his scissors that the terrible fact burst
upon him. Eppie had run out by herself-had perhaps fallen
into the stone-pit. Silas rushed out, calling Eppie!" and ran
eagerly about, exploring the dry cavities into which she might
have fallen, and then gazing with questioning dread at the
smooth red surface of the water. There was one hope that
she had crept through the stile and got into the fields, where
he.habitually took her to stroll. The meadow was searched in
vain, and he got over the stile into the next field, looking with
dying hope toward a small pond, which was now reduced to its
summer shallowness, so as to have a wide margin of good adhe-
sive mud. Here, however, sat Eppie, discoursing cheerfully to
her own small boot, which she was using as a bucket to convey
the water into a deep hoof-mark, while her little naked foot
was planted comfortably on a cushion of olive-green mud. A
red-headed calf was observing her with alarmed doubt through
the opposite hedge.
Here was clearly a case which demanded severe treatment;
but Silas, overcome with convulsive joy at finding his treasure









EPPIE.


again, could do nothing but snatch her up and cover her with
half-sobbing kisses. It was not until he had carried her home,
and had begun to think of the necessary washing, that he
recollected the need that he should punish Eppie, and "make
her remember." The idea that she might run away again and
come to harm gave him unusual resolution, and for the first
time he determined to try the coal-hole a small closet near
the hearth.
"Naughty, naughty Eppie," he suddenly began, holding
her on his knee, and pointing to her muddy feet and clothes,
"naughty to cut with the scissors and run away. Eppie must
go into the coal-hole for being naughty."
He half-expected that this would be shock enough, and
that Eppie would begin to cry. But instead of that, she began
to shake herself on his knee, as if the proposition opened a
pleasing novelty. Seeing that he must proceed to extremities,
he put her in the coal-hole, and held the door closed, with a
trembling sense that he was using a strong measure. For a
moment there was silence, but then came a little cry, Opy,
opy!" and Silas let her out again, saying, "Now Eppie 'ull
never be naughty again, else she must go in the coal-hole -
a black naughty place."
The weaving must stand still a long while this morning,
for now Eppie must be washed, and have clean clothes on;
but it was to be hoped that this punishment would have a last-
ing effect, and save time in future, though perhaps it would
have been better if Eppie had cried more.
In half an hour she was clean again, and Silas having

















































































LITTLE DUCKS.









EPPIE.


turned his back to see what he could do with the linen band,
threw it down again, with the reflection that Eppie would be
good without fastening for the rest of the morning. He
turned round again, and was going to place her in her little
chair near the loom, when she peeped out at him with black
face and hands again, and said, Eppie in de toal-hole."
This total failure of the coal-hole discipline shook Silas's
belief in the efficacy of punishment. "She'd take it all for
fun," he observed to Dolly, "if I didn't hurt her, and that I
can't do, Mrs. Winthrop. If she makes me a bit o' trouble
I can bear it. And she's got no tricks but what she'll grow
out of."
Well, that's partly true, Master Marner," said Dolly sym-
pathetically; "and if you can't bring your mind to frighten her
off touching things, you must do what you can to keep 'em
out of her way."
So Eppie was reared without punishment, the burden of
her misdeeds being borne by father Silas. The stone hut was
made a soft nest for her, lined with downy patience: and also
in the world beyond the stone hut she knew nothing of frowns
and denials.
GEORGE ELIOT.
From Silas Marner."
























PAUL DOMBEY AT SCHOOL.

M RS. PIPCHIN had kept watch and ward over little Paul
and his sister for nearly twelve months. By little and
little Paul had grown stronger, and had become able to dispense
with his carriage, though he still looked thin and delicate; and
still remained the same old, quiet dreamy child that he had
been when first consigned to Mrs. Pipchin's care. One Satur-
day afternoon, at dusk, great consternation was occasioned in
the castle by the unlooked-for announcement of Mr. Dombey
as a visitor to Mrs. Pipchin.
Mrs. Pipchin," said Mr. Dombey, how do you do ?"
"Thank you, sir," said Mrs. Pipchin, I am pretty well,
'considering."
Mrs. Pipchin always used that form of words. It meant
considering her virtues, sacrifices, and so forth.









PAUL DOMBEY AT SCHOOL.


Mr. Dombey went on to say:
"Mrs. Pipchin, my son is six years old, and there is no
doubt, I fear, that in his studies he is behind many children of
his age. The education of such a young gentleman must not be
delayed. I have been thinking of Dr. Blimber's, Mrs. Pipchin."
My neighbor, sir? said Mrs. Pipchin. I believe the doc-
tor's is an excellent establishment. I've heard that it's very
strictly conducted, and there is nothing but learning going on
from morning to night."
And it's very expensive," added Mr. Dombey.
And it's very expensive, sir," returned Mrs. Pipchin, as if
she had omitted one of its leading merits.
I have had some communication with the doctor," said
Mr. Dombey, and he does not consider Paul at all too young
for his purpose. He mentioned several instances of boys in
Greek at about the same age. My son, not having known a
mother, has gradually concentrated much too much of his
childish affection on his sister."
Mr. Dombey had formed a plan of sending Paul to the
doctor's as a weekly boarder for the first half-year, during
which time Florence would remain at the castle, that she might
receive her brother there on Saturdays. This would wean him
by degrees, Mr. Dombey said.
Mr. Dombey finished the interview; and having kissed
Paul, and shaken hands with Florence, he withdrew to his
hotel and dinner; resolved that Paul should begin a vigorous
course of education, and that Dr. Blimber should take him in
hand immediately.













































/,


THE ELDER SISTER.









PAUL DOMBEY AT SCHOOL.


Whenever a young gentleman was taken in hand by Dr.
Blimber, he might consider himself sure of a pretty tight
squeeze. The doctor only undertook the charge of ten young
gentlemen, but he had always ready a supply of learning for
a hundred.
In fact, Dr. Blimber's establishment was a great hothouse,
in which there was a forcing apparatus incessantly at work.
All the boys blew before their time. Mental green peas were
produced at Christmas. Mathematical gooseberries were com-
mon at untimely seasons. Every description of Greek and
Latin vegetable was got off the driest twigs of boys, under the
frostiest circumstances. Nature was of no consequence at all.
One young gentleman, with a swollen nose and an exces-
sively large head (the oldest of the ten who had gone through "
everything) suddenly left off blowing one day, and remained in
the establishment a mere stalk. And people did say that the
doctor had rather overdone it with young Toots, and that when
he began to have whiskers he left off having brains.
The doctor was a portly gentleman in a suit of black, with
strings at his knees, and stockings below them. He had a bald
head, highly polished; a deep voice, and a chin so double that
it was a wonder how he ever managed to shave into the creases.
He had likewise a pair of little eyes that were always half-shut
up, and a mouth that was always half-expanded into a grin.
The doctor's was a fine house, fronting the sea. Sad-col-
ored curtains hid themselves behind the windows. The tables
and chairs were put away in rows, like figures in a sum; the din-
ing-room seemed the last place in the world where any eating









PAUL DOMBEY AT SCHOOL.


or drinking was likely to occur; there was no sound through
all the house but the ticking of a great clock in the hall, and
sometimes a dull crying of young gentlemen at their lessons.
Upon the doctor's doorsteps one day, Paul stood with a
fluttering heart, and with his small right hand in his father's.
His other hand was locked in that of Florence.
Mrs. Pipchin hovered behind, like a bird of ill omen.
Now, Paul," said Mr. Dombey, "you are almost a man
already."
Almost," returned the child.
The door being opened-" Dr. Blimber is at home, I be-
lieve? said Mr. Dombey.
The man said yes; and, as they passed in, looked at Paul
as if he were a little mouse and the house were a trap. He
was a weak-eyed young man, with the first faint streaks or
early dawn of a grin on his countenance. Mrs. Pipchin took
it into her head that it was impudence, and made a snap at
him directly. Go and tell your master that Mr. Dombey's
here, or it'll be worse for you! "
The weak-eyed young man went very meekly, and soon
came back to invite them to the doctor's study.
The doctor was sitting in his study, with a globe at each
knee, books all round him, Homer over the door and Minerva
on the mantel-shelf. And how do you do, sir? he said to
Mr. Dombey; "and how is my little friend?" When he
ceased, the great clock in the hall seemed (to Paul at least) to
go on saying, "how, is, my, lit, tle, friend? How, is, my, lit,
tie, friend ? over and over and over again.









PAUL DOMBEY AT SCHOOL.


The little friend being something too small to be seen at
all from where the doctor sat, over the books on his table,
the doctor made several futile attempts to get a view of him
round the legs; Mr. Dombey relieved the doctor from his
embarrassment by taking Paul up in his arms and sitting him
on another little table, over against the doctor, in the middle
of the room.
Ha !" said the doctor, leaning back in his chair with his
hand in his breast. Now I see my little friend. How do you
do, my little friend? "
The clock in the hall continued to repeat, How, is, my,
lit, tle, friend? "
Very well, I thank you, sir," returned Paul, answering the
clock quite as much as the doctor.
"Ha!" said Dr. Blimber. "Shall we make a man of
him ? "
Do you hear, Paul ? added Mr. Dombey; Paul being
silent.
Shall we make a man of him ? repeated the doctor.
I had rather be a child," replied Paul.
Indeed! said the doctor. Why ? "
The child sat on the table looking at him with a curious
expression of suppressed emotion in his face, and beating one
hand proudly on his knee, as if he had the rising tears beneath
it, and crushed them. But his other hand strayed a little way
until it lighted on the neck of Florence. This is why," it
seemed to say, and then the steady look was gone, and the
tears came streaming forth.









PAUL DOMBEY AT SCHOOL.


"Mrs. Pipchin," said his father, I am really very sorry to
see this."
Come away from him, do, Miss Dombey," quoth the
matron.
Never mind," said the doctor, blandly nodding his head.
"You would still wish my little friend to acquire -
Everything, if you please, doctor," returned Mr. Dombey
firmly.
Yes," said the doctor, who, with his half-shut eyes and
his usual smile, seemed to survey Paul with the sort of interest
that might attach to some choice little animal he was going to
stuff. Yes, exactly." And again he leered at Paul, as if he
would have liked to tackle him with the Greek alphabet on
the spot.
Permit me," said the doctor, one moment. Allow me to
present Mrs. Blimber and my daughter. Mrs. Blimber," for
the lady entered, followed by her daughter, Mr. Dombey.
My daughter Cornelia, Mr. Dombey. My love," pursued the
doctor, turning to his wife, do you see our little friend ? "
Mrs. Blimber apparently did not, for she was backing
against the little friend and very much endangering his posi-
tion on the table. But, on this hint, she turned to admire his
classical and intellectual lineaments, and turning again to Mr.
Dombey, said with a sigh, that she envied his dear son.
Like a bee, sir," said Mrs. Blimber, with uplifted eyes,
about to plunge into a garden of the choicest flowers and sip
the sweets for the first time."
Who is that ? said the doctor. Oh! come in, Toots;









PAUL DOMBEY AT SCHOOL.


come in. Mr. Dombey, sir." Toots bowed. Quite a coinci-
dence!" said Dr. Blimber; "here we have the beginning and
the end. Alpha and Omega. Our head boy, Mr. Dombey.
Toots, Mr. Dombey's son."
Young Toots blushed again; and finding that he was ex-
pected to say something, said to Paul, How are you? in a
voice so deep, and a manner so sheepish, that if a lamb had
roared it couldn't have been more surprising.
"Ask Mr. Feeder, if you please, Toots," said the doctor,
" to prepare a few introductory volumes for Mr. Dombey's son,
and to allot him a convenient seat for study. My dear, I be-
lieve Mr. Dombey has not seen the dormitories."
If Mr. Dombey will walk upstairs," said Mrs. Blimber, I
shall be more than proud to show him the dominions of the
drowsy god."
With that, Mrs. Blimber proceeded upstairs with Mr. Dom-
bey and Cornelia; Mrs. Pipchin following, and looking out
sharp for her enemy the footman.
While they were gone, Paul sat upon the table holding
Florence by the hand and glancing timidly from the doctor
round and round the room, while the doctor, leaning back in
his chair, held a book from him at arm's length and read.
There was something very awful in this manner of reading.
It was such a determined, cold-blooded way of going to work.
It left the doctor's countenance exposed to view; and when the
doctor smiled at his author, or knit his brows, or shook his
head and made wry faces at him, as much as to say, Don't
tell me, sir; I know better," it was terrific.









PAUL DOMBEY AT SCHOOL.


Mr. Dombey and his conductress presently re-entered the
doctor's study.
I hope, Mr. Dombey," said the doctor, that the arrange-
ments meet your approval."
"They are excellent, sir," said Mr. Dombey. I think I
have given all the trouble I need, and may take my leave.
Paul, my child," he went close to him as he sat upon the table,
"good-by !"
Good-by, papa! "
The limp and careless little hand that Mr. Dombey took
in his was out of keeping with the wistful face.
He bent over his boy, and kissed him. I shall see you
soon, Paul. You are free on Saturdays and Sundays, you
know."
Yes, papa," returned Paul, looking at his sister.
And you'll try and learn a great deal here, and be a clever
man," said Mr. Dombey; won't you ?"
I'll try," returned the child wearily.
"And you'll soon be grown up now," said Mr. Dombey.
Oh very soon," replied the child. Once more the old,
old look passed rapidly across his features like a strange light.
Mrs. Pipchin stepped forward to take leave and to bear off
Florence. The move on her part roused Mr. Dombey, whose
eyes were fixed on Paul. After patting him on the head, and
pressing his small hand again, he took leave and walked out of
the study.
Dr. Blimber, Mrs. Blimber and Miss Blimber all pressed for-
ward to attend him to the hall, and thus Mrs. Pipchin was























S1


BOTH PUZZLED.









PAUL DOMBEY AT SCHOOL.


crowded out of the study before she could clutch Florence.
To which happy accident Paul stood afterward indebted for
the dear remembrance, that Florence ran back to throw her
arms round his neck, and that hers was the last face in the
doorway: turned toward him with a smile of encouragement,
the brighter for the tears through which it beamed.
It made his childish bosom heave and swell when it was
gone; and sent the globes, the books, blind Homer, and Min-
erva swimming round the room. But they stopped all of a
sudden; and then he heard the loud clock in the hall still
gravely inquiring "how, is, my, lit, tie, friend ? how, is, my, lit,
tie, friend ? as it had done before.
He sat with folded hands, upon his pedestal, silently listen-
ing. But he might have answered, Weary, weary very lonely,
very sad! "
CHARLES DICKENS.
From "Dombey and Son."


























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FEBRUARY FILL DYKE."


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for if Mrs. Tulliver had a strong feeling, it was fondness for
-. -. _- ..-- .-.- -.. .,:-















collar on-. .; it's been lost on the road, I'll be bound, and spoilt.-

S Mrs-. Tulliver stood with her arms open; Maggie jumped..
- ... :'-,"- 4" '. ? A-,. .. .




'.', ". '. ,,, .: .-4











TOM AND MAGGIE.


4T OM was to arrive early in the afternoon, and there was
another fluttering heart besides Maggie's when it was
late enough for the sound of the gig-wheels to be expected;
for if Mrs. Tulliver had a strong feeling, it was fondness for
her boy. At last the sound came.

There he is, my sweet lad But, mercy he's got never a
collar on; it's been lost on the road, I'll be bound, and spoilt
the set."

Mrs. Tulliver stood with her arms open; Maggie jumped
first on one leg and then on the other; while Tom descended
29


ii
L
-J









TOM AND MAGGIE.


from the gig, and said, with masculine reticence as to the ten-
der emotions, Halloo! Yap what! are you there ?"
Nevertheless, he submitted to be kissed willingly enough,
though Maggie hung on his neck in rather a strangling fashion,
while his blue-gray eyes wandered toward the croft, and the
lambs, and the river, where he promised himself that he would
begin to fish the first thing to-morrow morning.
Maggie," said Tom, confidentially, taking her into a cor-
ner as soon as his mother was gone out to examine his box,
and the warm parlor had taken off the chill he had felt from
the long drive, "you don't know what I've got in my pockets,"
nodding his head up and down as a means of rousing her sense
of mystery.
What is it? said Maggie, in a whisper. I can see noth-
ing but a bit of yellow."
Why, it's -a new guess, Maggie."
Oh! I can't guess, Tom," said Maggie impatiently.
"Don't be a spitfire, else I won't tell you," said Tom,
thrusting his hand back into his pocket, and looking deter-
mined.
No, Tom," said Maggie, imploringly, laying hold of the
arm that was held stifly in the pocket. I'm not cross, Tom;
it was only because I can't bear guessing. Please be good
to me."
Tom's arm slowly relaxed, and he said, Well, then, it's a
new fish-line two new uns one for you, Maggie, all to
.yourself. I wouldn't go halves in the toffee and gingerbread
on purpose to save the money; and Gibson and Spouncer









TOM AND MAGGIE.


fought with me because I wouldn't. And here's hooks see
here! I say, won't we go and fish to-morrow down by Round
Pool ? And you shall catch your own fish, Maggie, and put
the worms on, and everything; won't it be fine? "
Maggie's answer was to throw her arms around Tom's neck
and hug him, and hold her cheek against his without speak-
ing, while he slowly unwound some of the line, saying, after
a pause:
Wasn't I a good brother, now, to buy you a line all to
yourself? "
Yes; very, very good. I do love you, Tom."
I gave Spouncer a black eye, I know that's what he got
by wanting to leather me; I wasn't going to go halves because
anybody leathered me."
Oh! how brave you are, Tom. I think you're like Sam-
son. If there came a lion roaring at me, I think you'd fight
him wouldn't you, Tom ? "
Tom turned away contemptuously, saying, "But the lion
isn't coming. What's the use of talking? I shall go and see
my rabbits."
Maggie's heart began to flutter with fear. She dared not
tell the sad truth at once, but she walked after Tom in trem-
bling silence as he went out, thinking how she could tell him
the news so as to soften at once his sorrow and his anger; for
Maggie dreaded Tom's anger of all things--it was quite a
different anger from her own.
Tom," she said, timidly, when they were out of doors,
how much money did you give for your rabbits ? "









TOM AND MAGGIE.


Two half-crowns and a sixpence," said Tom promptly.
1 think I've got a great deal more than that in my steel
purse upstairs. I'll ask mother to give it to you."
What for ?" said Tom. I don't want your money."
Well, but, Tom if mother would let me give you two
half-crowns and a sixpence out of my purse to put into your
pocket to spend, you know, and buy some more rabbits with
it ? "
More rabbits ? I don't want any more."
Oh! but, Tom, they're all dead."
Tom stopped immediately in his walk, and turned round
toward Maggie. You forgot to feed them, then, and Harry
forgot," he said, his color heightening for a moment. I'll
pitch into Harry; I'll have him turned away. And I don't love
you, Maggie. You sha'n't go fishing with me to-morrow. I told
you to go and see the rabbits every day." He walked on again.
Yes; but I forgot; and I couldn't help it, indeed, Tom.
I'm so very sorry," said Maggie, while the tears rushed fast.
You're a naughty girl," said Tom severely, and I'm sorry
I bought you the fish-line. I don't love you."
Oh! please forgive me, Tom; my heart will break," said
Maggie, shaking with sobs, clinging to Tom's arm, and laying
her wet cheek on his shoulder.
Tom shook her off, saying, Now, Maggie, you just listen.
Aren't I a good brother to you? "
Ye-ye-es," sobbed Maggie.
Didn't I think about your fish-line all this quarter, and
mean to buy it ?"









































IIt^;E^t':"' '-
^*^'*^ ""*

^ .*A.;^ ^ *: ^


AN INTERESTING FAMILY.









TOM AND MAGGIE.


tub into the twilight of the long attic, but just then she heard
a quick footstep on the stairs.
It was Tom's step. He only stood at the top of the stair
and said, "Maggie, you're to come down." But she rushed to
him, and clung round his neck sobbl:.in-_. O, Tom! please
forgive me-- I can't bear it I will always be good -always
remember things do love me please, dear Tom ? "
We learn to restrain ourselves as we get older. Maggie
and Tom were still very much like young animals, and so she
could rub her cheek against his, and kiss his ear in a random,
sobbing way; and there were tender fibers in the lad, that had
been used to answer to Maggie's fondling: he actually began
to kiss her in return, and say:
Don't cry, then, Maggie here, eat a bit o' cake." Mag-
gie's sobs began to subside, and she put out her mouth for the
cake, and bit a piece; and then Tom bit a piece just for com-
pany: and they ate together, and rubbed each other's cheeks,
and brows, and noses together, while they ate, with a resem-
blance to two friendly ponies.
Come along, Maggie, and have tea," said Tom at last,
when there was no more cake except what was downstairs.
So ended the sorrows of this day; and the next morning
Maggie was trotting with her own fishing-rod in one hand and
a handle of the basket in the other, stepping always, by a
peculiar gift, in the muddiest places, and looking darkly ra-
diant from under her beaver bonnet because Tom was good
to her.
They were on their way to the Round Pool -the wonderful








TOM AND MAGGIE.


tub into the twilight of the long attic, but just then she heard
a quick footstep on the stairs.
It was Tom's step. He only stood at the top of the stair
and said, Maggie, you're to come down." But she rushed to
him, and clung round his neck sobbing. 0, Tom! please
forgive me I can't bear it I will always be good always
remember things do love me please, dear Tom ? "
We learn to restrain ourselves as we get older. Maggie
and Tom were still very much like young animals, and so she
could rub her cheek against his, and kiss his ear in a random,
sobbing way; and there were tender fibers in the lad, that had
been used to answer to Maggie's fondling : he actually began
to kiss her in return, and say:
Don't cry, then, Maggie here, eat a bit o' cake." Mag-
gie's sobs began to subside, and she put out her mouth for the
cake, and bit a piece; and then Tom bit a piece just for com-
pany: and they ate together, and rubbed each other's cheeks,
and brows, and noses together, while they ate, with a resem-
blance to two friendly ponies.
Come along, Maggie, and have tea," said Tom at last,
when there was no more cake except what was downstairs.
So ended the sorrows of this day; and the next morning
Mligie was trotting with her own fishing-rod in one hand and
a handle of the basket in the other, stepping always, by a
peculiar gift, in the muddiest places, and looking darkly ra-
diant from under her beaver bonnet because Tom was good
to her.
They were on their way to the Round Pool -the wonderful
















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A MAY MORNING.









TOM AND MAGGIE.


pool, which the floods had made a long while ago. The sight
of the old favorite spot always heightened Tom's good humor,
and he spoke to Maggie in the most amiable whispers, as he
opened the precious basket, and prepared their tackle. He
threw her line for her, and put the rod into her hand. Maggie
thought it probable that the small fish would come to her
hook, and the large ones to Tom's. But she had forgotten all
about the fish, and was looking dreamily at the glassy water,
when Tom said, in a loud whisper, "Look! look, Maggie!"
and came running to prevent her from snatching her line
away.
Maggie was frightened lest she had been doing something
wrong, as usual, but presently Tom drew out her line and
brought a large tench pouncing on the grass.
Tom was excited.
O, Magsie, you little duck Empty the basket." Maggie
was not conscious of unusual merit, but it was enough that
Tom called her Magsie and was pleased with her.
It was one of their happy mornings. They trotted along
and sat down together, with no thought that life would ever
change much for them; they would only get bigger and not
go to school, and it would always be like the holidays; and'
they would always live together and be fond of each other.
Life did change for Tom and Maggie; and yet they were
not wrong in believing that the thoughts and loves of these
first years would always make part of their lives. We could
never love the earth so well if we had had no childhood
in it.











40 TOM AND MAGGIE.


Our delight in the sunshine on the deep-bladed grass to-
day might be no more than the faint perception of wearied
souls, if it were not for the sunshine and the grass in the far-
off years, which still live in us, and transform our perception
into love.

GEORGE ELIOT.
From The Mill on the Floss."


'k ',


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-^ ^ **.;E--: ..



























RUGBY SCHOOL.


TOM BROWN.

'O N the evening of the first day of the next half-year,
Tom, East, and another schoolhouse boy rushed into
the matron's room in high spirits, such as all real boys are
in when they first get back, however fond they may be of
home.
Well, Mrs. Wixie," shouted one, seizing on the little
woman who was busy stowing away the linen of the boys who
had already arrived, "here we are again, you see, as jolly as
ever. Let us help you put the things away."








TOM BROWN.


Am I and East to have Gray's study? You know you
promised to get it for us if you could," shouted Tom.
And am I to sleep in number four ? roared East.
Bless the boys cried Mary, at last getting in a word;
"why, you'll shake me to death. There, now, do go away up
to the housekeeper's room and get your suppers, you know I
haven't time to talk you'll find plenty more in the house.
Now, Master East, do let those things alone-you're mixing
up three new boys' things." And she rushed at East, who
escaped round the open trunks, holding up a prize.
Halloo! look here, Tommy," shouted he, "here's fun !"
and he brandished above his head some pretty little night-caps,
beautifully made and marked, the work of loving fingers in
some distant country home. The little matron snatched the
caps from East before he could look at the name on them.
Now, Master East, I shall be very angry if you don't go,"
said she; there's some capital cold beef and pickles upstairs,
and I won't have you old boys in my room first night."
S ," Hurrah for the pickles! Come along, Tommy; come
along., Smith. We shall find.out who the young count is, I'll
be bound. I hope he'll sleep in my room."
As the boys turned to leave the room, the matron touched
Tom's arm, and said, Master Brown, please stop a minute; I
want to speak to you."
"Very well, Mary. I'll come in a minute, East; don't
finish the pickles "-
"Oh, Master Brown "went on the little matron, when the
rest had gone, you're to have Gray's study, Mrs. Arnold says.









TOM BROWN. 43

And she wants you to take in this young gentleman. He's a
new boy, and thirteen years old, though he don't look it. He's
very delicate, and has never been from home before. And I
told Mrs. Arnold I thought you'd be kind to him, and see that
they don't bully him at first. He's put into your form, and
I've given him the bed next to yours in number four; so East
can't sleep there this half."
Tom had got the double study which he coveted, but here
were conditions which greatly moderated his joy. He looked
across the room, and in the far corner of the sofa was aware of
a slight pale boy, with large blue eyes and light fair hair, who
seemed ready to shrink through the floor. He saw at a glance
that the little stranger was just the boy whose first half-year at
the public school would be misery to himself if he were left
alone, or constant anxiety to any one who meant to see him
through his troubles.
The matron watched him for a moment, and threw in an
appeal to his warm heart. Poor little fellow," said she, in
almost a whisper, his father's dead, and he's got no brothers.
And his mamma, such a kind sweet lady, almost broke her
heart at leaving him this morning; and so "-
Well, well," burst in Tom, with something like a sigh at
the effort, "I suppose I must give up East. Come along,
young 'un. What's your name? We'll go and have some
supper, and then I'll show you your study."
His name's George Arthur," said the matron, walking up
to him with Tom, who grasped his little delicate hand as the
proper preliminary to making a chum of him, and he felt as if









TOM BROWN.


he could have blown him away. I've had his books and things
put into the study, which his mamma has had new papered, and
the sofa covered and green baize curtains over the door. And
Mrs. Arnold told me to say," she added, "that she would like
you both to come up to tea with her. You know the way,
Master Brown, and the things are just gone up, I know."
Here was an announcement for [Ma\st':r Tom-! He was to
go up to tea the first night, just as if he were a sixth or fifth-
form boy, and of importance in the school world, instead of the
most reckless young scapegrace amongst the fags. He felt
himself lifted on to a higher social and moral platform at once.
It is needless to tell how the two young boys were received
in the drawing-room. The hostess, after a few kind words,
which led the boys at once and insensibly to feel at their ease,
and to begin talking to one another, left them with her own chil-
dren while she finished a letter. The young ones got on fast
and well, Tom holding forth about a pony he had been riding
out hunting, and hearing stories of the winter glories of the lakes,
when tea came in, and immediately after the doctor himself.
How frank, and kind, and manly, was his greeting to the
party! It did Tom's heart good to see him and young
Brooke shake hands. And his cup was full when in another
moment his master turned to him with another warm shake of
the hand, and, seemingly oblivious of all the late scrapes which
he had been getting into, said, Ah, Brown, you here! I hope
you left your father and all well at home ? "
Yes, sir, quite well."
And this is the little fellow who is to share your study.










TOM BROWN.


Well, he doesn't look as we should like to see him. He wants
some Rugby air and cricket." The tea went merrily off. Every-
body was at his ease, and everybody felt that he, young as he
might be, was of some use in the little school world, and had
a work to do there.
Soon after tea the doctor went off to his study, and the
young boys a few minutes afterward took their leave.
There was a great shout of greeting, as Tom was recognized
marching down the passage.
Halloo, Brown, where do you come from ?"
Oh! I've been to tea with the doctor," says Tom, with
great dignity.
My eye! cried East, Oh! so that's why Mary called you
back, and you didn't come to supper. You lost something-
that beef and pickles was no end good."
I say, young fellow," cried Hall, detecting Arthur and
catching him by the collar, what's your name ? Where do you
come from ? How old are you? "
Tom saw Arthur shrink back, and look scared as all the
group turned to him, but thought it best to let him answer,
just standing by his side to support him in case of need.
"Arthur, sir. I come from Devonshire."
Don't call me 'sir.' How old are you? "
Thirteen."
Do you know him at home, Brown ? "
No; but he's my chum in Gray's old study, and it's near
prayer-time, and I haven't had a look at it yet. Come along,
Arthur."










TOM BROWN.


Away went the two, Tom longing to get his charge safe
under cover, where he might advise him on his deportment.
"What a queer chum for Tom Brown," was the comment,
and it must be confessed Tom thought so himself, as he lighted
his candle, and surveyed the new green-baize curtains and the
carpet and sofa with much satisfaction.
I say, Arthur, what a brick your mother is to make us so
cosey. But look here, now, you must answer straight up when
the fellows speak to you, and don't be afraid. What a jolly
desk! is that yours ? "
And Tom was soon deep in Arthur's goods and chattels,
all new and good enough for a fifth-form boy, and hardly
thought of his friends outside, till the prayer-bell rang.
I have already described the schoolhouse prayers; they
were the same on the first night as on the other nights, save
for the gaps caused by the absence of those boys who came
late, and the line of new boys who stood all together at the
further table of all sorts and sizes, like young bears with all
their troubles to come, as Tom's father had said to him when
he was in the same position. He thought of it as he looked at
the line, and poor little slight Arthur standing with them, and
as he was leading him upstairs to number four, directly after
prayers, and showing him his bed. It was a huge, high, airy
room, with two large windows. There were twelve beds in
the room -the one in the farthest corner by the fireplace
occupied by the sixth-form boy, who was responsible for the
discipline of the room.
Within a few minutes of their entry, all the other boys who

























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SAMUEL.


~al~i~










TOM BROWN.


slept in number four had come up. The little fellows went
quietly to their own beds, and began undressing and talking
to each other in whispers; while the elder, amongst whom was
Tom, sat chatting about on one another's beds, with their
jackets and waistcoats off. Poor little Arthur was overwhelmed
with the novelty of his position. The idea of sleeping in the
room with strange boys had clearly never crossed his mind
before, and was painful as it was strange to him.
Please, Brown," he whispered, may I wash my face and
hands? "
Of course, if you like," said Tom staring; "that's your
washhand-stand, under the window, second from your bed.
You'll have to go down for more water in the morning, if you
use it all." And on he went with his talk.
On went the talk and laughter. Arthur finished his wash-
ing and undressing, and put on his nightgown. He then
looked around more nervously than ever. Two or three little
boys were already in bed. The light burned clear, the noise
went on. It was a trying moment for the poor little lonely
boy; however, this time he didn't ask Tom what he might or
might not do, but dropped on his knees by his bedside, as he
had done every day from his childhood, to open his heart
to Him who heareth the cry and beareth the sorrows of the
tender child.
Tom was sitting at the bottom of his bed unlacing his
boots, so that his back was toward Arthur and he didn't see
what had happened, and looked up in wonder at the sudden
silence. Then two or three boys laughed and sneered, and a










TOM BROWN.


big brutal fellow picked up a slipper, and shied it at the kneel-
ing boy. Then Tom saw the whole; and the next moment the
boot he had just pulled off flew straight at the head of the
bully, who had just time to throw up his arm and catch it
on his elbow.
Confound .you, Brown! what's that for?" roared he,
stamping with pain.
Never mind what it's for," said Tom, stepping on to the
floor, cv\ry drop of blood in his body tingling; if any fellow
wants the other boot, he knows how to get it."
What would have been the result is doubtful, for at this
moment the sixth-form boy came in, and not another word
could be said.
There were many boys in the room by whom that little
scene was taken to heart before they slept. But sleep seemed
to have deserted the pillow of poor Tom. His head throbbed,
his heart leaped, and he could hardly keep himself from spring-
ing out of bed and rushing about the room. Then the thought
of his own mother came across him, and the promise he had
made at her knee, years ago, never to forget to kneel by his
bedside, and give himself up to his Father before he laid .his
head on the pillow, from which it might never rise; and he
lay down gently, and cried as if his heart would break.- He
was only fourteen years old.
Poor Tom! the first and bitterest feeling which was like to
break his heart, was the sense of his own cowardice. And
then the poor little weak boy, whom he had pitied, and almost
scorned for his weakness, had done that which he dared not.do.










TOM BROWN.


The first dawn of comfort came to him in swearing to himself
that he would stand by the boy through thick and thin, and
cheer him, and help him, and bear his burdens, for the good
deed done that night. Then he resolved to write home next
day and tell his mother all, and what a coward her son had
been. And then peace came to him as he resolved, lastly, to
bear his testimony next morning.
Next morning he was up, and washed, and dressed, all but
his jacket and waistcoat, just as the ten-minutes bell began to
ring, and then, in the face of the whole room, knelt to pray.
Not five words could he say the bell mocked him; he was
listening for, every whisper in the room what were they all
thi-nking of him ? At last, a still small voice seemed to breathe
forth the words, God be merciful to me a sinner! He re-
peated them over and over, clinging to them as for his life, and
rose from his knees ready to face the whole world. It was not
needed; two other boys besides Arthur had already followed
his example, and he went down to the great school with the
glimmering of another lesson in his heart the lesson that he
who has conquered his own coward spirit has conquered the
outward world, and that other one that however we may fancy
ourselves alone on the side of good, the King and Lord of men
is nowhere without his witnesses.
THOMAS HUGHES.
From Tom Brown's Sc/ool-days."




































MURIEL.


SYE hath not seen!" repeated Muriel, thoughtfully.
Can people see there, Uncle Phineas ?"
Yes, my child. There is no darkness at all."
She paused a minute, and said earnestly: I want to go-
I want very much to go. How long do you think it will be
before the angels come for me? "
53








MURIEL.


Many, many years, my precious one! said I, shuddering;
for truly, she looked so like them, that I began to fear they
were close at hand.
But a few minutes afterward she was playing with her
brothers, and talking to her pet doves, so sweet and human-
like that the fear passed away.

Muriel lay, day after day, on her little bed in an upper
chamber, or was carried softly down in the middle of the day
by her father, never complaining, but never attempting to
move or talk. When we asked her if she felt ill, she always
answered, O, no! only so very tired."
But it is not good for my little girl always to be quiet,
and it grieves father."
Does it? Muriel slipped to her feet, and tried to cross
the room, catching at tables and chairs -now, alas! not only
for guidance, but actual support. At last she said, half-crying :
"I can't walk, I am so tired. Oh! do take me in your
arms, dear father."
Her father took her, looked long in her sightless face, then
buried his against her shoulder, saying nothing.

Muriel was the first to whom the news was told. Her
father told it. "She is come, darling! Little Maud is come.
I am very rich, for I have two daughters now."
Muriel is glad, father." But she showed her gladness in
a strangely quiet, meditative way, unlike a child unlike even
her old self.


















































































THE FAVORITE PIGEON.









MURIEL.


What are you thinking of, my pet ?"
That though father has another daughter, I hope he will
remember the first one sometimes."
She is jealous cried John, in the curious delight with
which he always detected in her any weakness, any fault, which
brought her down to the safe level of humanity. See, Uncle
Phineas, our Muriel is actually jealous."
But Muriel only smiled.
He sat down by her, and she crept up into his arms.
What day is it, father ? "
The first of December."
I am glad. Little Maud's birthday will be in the same
month as mine."
But you came in the snow, Muriel, and now it is warm
and mild."
"There will be snow on my birthday, though. There
always is. The snow is fond of me, father. It would like me
to lie down and be all covered over, so that you could not find
me anywhere."
I heard John try to echo her weak, soft laugh.
This month it will be eleven years since I was born, will
it not, father ? "
Yes, my darling."
What a long time! Then, when my little sister is as old
as I am, I shall be- that is, I should have been a woman
grown. Fancy me twenty years old, as tall as mother, wearing
a gown like her, talking and ordering, and busy about the
house. How funny!" And she laughed again. O, no,









MURIEL.


father! I couldn't do it." She ceased talking; very soon she
was sound asleep.
One Sunday Mrs. Tod was laying the dinner, and John
stood at the window, playing with his three boys. He turned
abruptly, and saw all the chairs placed round the table all
save one.
Where is Muriel's chair, Mrs. Tod? "
"Sir, she says she feels so tired like, she'd rather not come
down to-day," answered Mrs. Tod, hesitatingly.
Not come down? "
Maybe better not, Mr. Halifax. Look out at the snow.
It'll be warmer for the dear child to-morrow."
"You are right. Yes. I had forgotten the snow. She
shall come down to-morrow."
I caught Mrs. Tod's eyes; they were running over. She
was too wise to speak of it, but she knew the truth as well
as we.
For a few days longer, her father, every evening, persisted in
carrying her down, holding her on his knee during tea. But
at the week's end this ceased.
When Mrs. Halifax was brought to her old place at our
happy Sunday dinner-table, and all the boys came pressing about
her, vying which should get most kisses from little sister Maud,
she looked round, surprised amidst her smiling, and asked:
Where is Muriel ?"
She seems to feel this bitter weather a good deal," John
said; and I thought it better she should not come down to
dinner."









MURIEL.


Ursula turned pale.
John, you must let me go and see my child."
I was sitting by Muriel's bed when they came upstairs.
Muriel, hearing the step, cried with a joyful cry, Mother! it's
my mother! "
The mother folded her to her breast.
Now," said she, my pet will be good, and not cry ? We
must be very happy to-day."
"0, yes!" Then in a fond whisper, "Please, I do so
want to see little Maud."
The new baby was carried upstairs proudly by Mrs. Tod,
all the boys following. Quite a levee was held round the bed
where, laid close beside her, her weak hands being guided over
the tiny face and form, Muriel first saw" her little sister.
She was greatly pleased. With a grave, elder-sisterly air, she
felt all over the baby limbs, and when Maud set up an indig-
nant cry, began hushing her with so quaint an imitation of
motherliness that we all were amused.
You'll be a capital nurse in a month or two, my pretty !"
Muriel only smiled. How fat she is; and look, how fast
her fingers take hold! And her head is so round, and her hair
feels so soft as soft as my doves' necks. What color is it ?
Like mine? "
It was; nearly the same shade.
I am so glad. But these ?" touching her eyes anxiously.
No, my darling. Not like you there," was the low answer.
I am very glad. I wonder if you can see me ? Little
Maud, I should like you to see your sister."









MURIEL.


She does see, of course; how she stares !" cried Guy.
And then Edwin began to argue to the contrary, protesting
that as kittens and puppies could not see at first, he believed
little babies did not. Muriel lay back quietly on her pillow,
with her little sister fondly hugged to her breast.
The father and mother looked on. It was such a picture -
these five darlings, these children which God had given them.
It seems strange now to remember that Sunday afternoon,
and how merry we all were; how we drank tea in the queer
bedroom at the top of the house; and how afterward Muriel
went to sleep in the twilight, with Baby Maud in her arms.
Mrs. Halifax sat beside the little bed.
Meanwhile John kept his boys as still as mice in the broad
window-seat, looking across the white snowy sheet to the
feathery beech wood, over the tops of which the new moon
was going down. Such a little young moon !
The children watched her till the very last minute, when
Guy startled the deep quiet of the room by exclaiming, There
-she's gone !"
Hush "
No, mother; I am awake," said Muriel. Who is gone,
Guy? "
The moon such a pretty little moon."
"Oh! Maud will see the moon some day." She dropped
her cheek down again beside the baby sister, and was asleep
once more.
This is the only incident I remember of that peaceful,
heavenly hour.









MURIEL.


Maud broke upon its quietude by her waking and wailing,
and Muriel very unwillingly let the little sister go.
I wish she might stay with me just this one night; and
to-morrow is my birthday. Please, mother, may she stay? "
"We will both stay, my darling. I shall not leave you
again."
I am so glad, mother;" and once more she turned round,
as if to go to sleep.
"Are you tired, my pet?" said John, looking intently
at her.
No, father."
Shall I take your brothers downstairs ? "
Not yet, dear father."
"What would you like, then ? '
Only to lie here, this Sunday evening, among you all."
He asked her if she would like him to read aloud, as he
generally did of Sunday evenings.
Yes, please; and Guy will come and sit quiet on the bed
beside me and listen. That will be pleasant. Guy was always
very good to his sister -always."
"I don't know that," said Guy, in a conscience-stricken
tone. "But I mean to be, when I grow a big man -that
I do!"
No one answered. John opened the large Book the
Book he taught all his children to long for and to love and
read out of it their favorite history of Joseph and his brethren.
The mother sat by him at the fireside, rocking Maud softly
on her knees. Edwin and Walter settled themselves on the









MURIEL.


hearth-rug, with great eyes intently fixed on their father.
From behind him the candle-light fell softly down on the
motionless figure in the bed, whose hand he held, and whose
face he every now and then turned to look at then, satisfied,
continued to read.
For an hour nearly we all sat thus, with the wind coming
up the valley, howling in the beech wood, and shaking the
casement as it passed outside. Within, the only sound was
the father's voice. This ceased at last: he shut the Bible,
and put it aside.
"Now, boys, it is full time to say good-night. There, go
and kiss your sister."
"Which?" said Edwin, in his funny way. "We've got
two now, and I don't know which is the biggest baby."
I'll thrash you if you say that again," cried Guy. Which,
indeed ? Maud is but the baby. Muriel will be always 'sister.'"
Sister" faintly laughed, as she answered his fond kiss.
Guy was often thought to be her favorite brother.
John and I sat up late together that night. He could not
rest, even though he told me he had left the mother and her
two daughters as cosey as a nest of wood-pigeons. We listened
to the wild night, till it had almost howled itself away. He
went upstairs the last thing, and brought down word that
mother and children were all sound asleep.
I think I may leave them until daylight to-morrow. And
now, Uncle Phineas, go you to bed, for you look as tired as
tired can be."
I went to bed; but all night long I had disturbed dreams.




































CHERUB.


i
.6

J









MURIEL.


Long before it was light, I rose. As I passed the boys' room
Guy called out to me:
Halloo! Uncle Phineas, is it a fine morning? for I want
to go down into the wood and get a lot of beech-nuts and fir-
cones for sister. It's her birthday, to-day, you know."
It was, for her. But for us 0, Muriel, our darling,
darling child!
John went early to the room upstairs. It was very still.
Ursula lay calmly asleep, with Baby Maud in her bosom; on
her other side lay that which for more than ten years we had
been used to call blind Muriel." She saw now.

John stood by his darling, alone. Me he never saw- no,
nor anything in the world except that little face, so strangely
like his own.
Sinking on his knees, he stretched out his arms across the
bed with a bitter cry.
"Come back to me, my darling, my first-born! Come
back to me, Muriel, my little daughter my own little
daughter!"
But thou wert with the angels, Muriel Muriel!
DINAH MARIA MULOCK.
From "John Halifax, Gentleman."




























ICHABOD CRANE.

M ANY years have elapsed since I trod the drowsy shades
of Sleepy Hollow. In this by-place of nature there
abode, some thirty years since, a worthy wight of the name
of Ichabod Crane, who tarried in Sleepy Hollow for the
purpose of instructing the children of the vicinity.
He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders,
long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his
sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his whole
frame most loosely hung together. To see him striding along
the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging
67









ICHABOD CRANE.


and fluttering about him, one might have mistaken him for the
genius of famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow
eloped from a cornfield.
His schoolhouse was a low building of one large room,
rudely constructed of logs; the windows partly glazed and
partly patched with leaves of copy-books.
He was a conscientious man, that ever bore in mind the
golden maxim, spare the rod and spoil the child." Ichabod
Crane's scholars certainly were not spoiled.
When school hours were over, he was the companion and
playmate of the larger boys.
He was boarded and lodged at the houses of the farmers
whose children he instructed. He assisted the farmers occa-
sionally in the lighter labors of their farms. He found favor in
the eyes of the mothers by petting the children. He would sit,
with a child on one knee, and rock a cradle with his foot for
whole hours together.
In addition to his. other vocations, he was the singing-mas-
ter of the neighborhood. Among the musical disciples who
assembled, one evening in each week, to receive his instructions
in psalmody, was Katrina Van Tassel, the daughter and only
child of a substantial Dutch farmer. Old Baltus Van Tassel
was a perfect picture of a thriving, contented, liberal-hearted
farmer.
His stronghold was situated on the banks of the Hudson,
in one of those green, sheltered, fertile nooks, in which the
Dutch farmers are so fond of nestling. From the moment
Ichabod laid his eyes upon these regions of delight, his only





















































THE VILLAGE SCHOOL.









ICHABOD CRANE.


study was how to gain the affections of the peerless daughter
of Van Tassel.
Brom Van Brunt, the hero of the country round, from his
great powers of limb, had received the nickname of Brom
Bones. This hero had singled out the blooming Katrina for
the object of his uncouth gallantries. Such was the rival with
whom Ichabod Crane had to contend.
On a fine autumnal afternoon, Ichabod, in pensive mood, sat
enthroned on the lofty stool from whence he usually watched all
the concerns of his little literary realm.
In his hand he swayed a ferule; the birch of justice reposed
on three nails, behind the throne, a constant terror to all evil-
doers; while on the desk before him might be seen sundry
articles and weapons detected upon the persons of idle urchins;
such as half-munched apples, popguns, whirligigs, fly-cages, and
whole legions of little paper game-cocks. Apparently there
had been some appalling act of justice recently inflicted; for his
scholars were all busily intent upon their books, or slyly whis-
pering behind them, with one eye kept upon the master, and
a kind of buzzing stillness reigned throughout the schoolroom.
It was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a negro in
tow-cloth jacket and trousers, a fragment of a hat, and mounted
on the back of a ragged, wild, half-broken colt. He came clat-
tering up to the door with an invitation to Ichabod to attend a
merry-making, or "quilting frolic," to be held that evening at
Mynheer Van Tassel's.
All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet school-
room. The scholars were hurried through their lessons, without









ICHABOD CRANE.


stopping at trifles. Books were flung aside, without being
put away on the shelves; inkstands were overturned, benches
thrown down, and the whole school was turned loose an hour
before the usual time.
The gallant Ichabod now spent at least an extra half-hour
at his toilet, brushing up his best and only suit of rusty black,
and arranging his locks by a bit of broken looking-glass that
hung up in the schoolhouse. He borrowed a horse from the
farmer Hans Van Ripper. The animal was a broken-down
plough-horse. Still he must have had fire and mettle in his
day, if we may judge from his name, which was Gunpowder.
It was toward evening that Icahbod arrived at the castle of
Heer Van Tassel, which he found thronged with the pride and
flower of the country. Brom Bones was the hero of the scene,
having come to the gathering on his favorite steed, Daredevil,
a creature which no one but himself could manage.
Fain would I pause to dwell upon the world of charms that
burst upon the enraptured gaze of my hero as he entered the
state parlor of Van Tassel's mansion. The ample charms of a
genuine Dutch country tea-table in the sumptuous time of
autumn! Such heaped-up platters of cakes of various and
almost in-describable kinds, known only to experienced Dutch
housewives Ichabod Crane did ample justice to every dainty.
Old Baltus Van Tassel moved about among his guests with
a face round and jolly as the harvest moon.
And now the sound of the music from the hall summoned
to the dance. Ichabod prided himself upon his dancing as
much as upon his vocal powers.









ICHABOD CRANE.


When the dance was at an end, Ichabod was attracted to a
knot of the sager folks, who, with old Van Tassel,.sat smoking
at one end of the piazza, gossiping over former times, and
drawling out long stories about the war. But all these were
nothing to the tales of ghosts and apparitions that succeeded.
The chief part of the stories turned upon the favorite specter
of Sleepy Hollow, the headless horseman, who had been heard
several times of late, patroling the country; and, it is said, teth-
ered his horse nightly among the graves in the churchyard.
All these tales sunk deep in the mind of Ichabod.
The revel now gradually broke up. The old farmers gath-
ered together their families in their wagons, and were heard for
some time rattling along the hollow roads, and over the distant
hills. Ichabod only lingered behind to have a tete-a-tete with
the heiress. What passed at this interview I will not pretend
to say, for in fact I do not know. Something, however, I fear,
must have gone wrong, for he certainly sallied forth, after no
very great interval, with an air quite desolate and chapfallen.
It was the very witching time of night that Ichabod, heavy-
hearted and crest-fallen, pursued his travel homeward, along
the lofty hills which rise above Tarry Town, and which he had
traversed so cheerily in the afternoon.
All the stories of ghosts and goblins that he had heard in
the afternoon now came crowding upon his recollection. The
night grew darker and darker. He had never felt so lonely
and dismal. He was, moreover, approaching the very place
where many scenes of the ghost stories had been laid.
Just at this moment a plashy tramp by the side of the bridge









ICHABOD CRANE.


caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the dark shadow of
the grove, on the margin of the brook, he beheld some-
thing huge, misshapen, black and towering. The hair of the
affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head with terror. What
was to be done ?
Just then the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion,
and, with a scramble and a bound, stood at once in the middle
of the road. He appeared to be a horseman of large dimen-
sions, and mounted on a black horse of powerful frame. He
kept aloof on one side of the road, jogging along on the blind
side of old Gunpowder.
Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight com-
panion, now quickened his steed, in hopes of leaving him behind.
On mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his
fellow-traveler in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, and
wrapped in a cloak, Ichabod-was horror-struck on perceiving
that he was headless; but his horror was still more increased,
on observing that the head was carried before him on the pom-
fiel of the saddle. His terror rose to desperation; he rained
a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunp.:,\d. Away, then,
they dashed, through thick and thin; stones flying and sparks
flashing at every bound.
They had now reached the road which turns off to Sleepy
Hollow. He heard the black steed panting close behind him.
Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the
very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavored to
dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered his
cranium with a tremendous crash -he was tumbled headlong









ICHABOD CRANE.


into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed and the goblin
rider, passed by like a whirlwind.
The next morning the old horse was found without his sad-
dle, soberly cropping grass at his master's gate. Ichabod did
not make his appearance at breakfast dinner-hour came, but
no Ichabod. The boys assembled at the schoolhouse, and
strolled idly about the banks of the brook; but no school-mas-
ter. Hans Van Ripper now began to feel some uneasiness
about the fate of poor Ichabod, and his saddle. An inquiry
was set on foot, and after diligent investigation they came upon
his traces. In one part of the road leading to the church was
found the saddle tramped in the dirt, the tracks of horses' hoofs
deeply dented in the road were traced to the bridge, beyond
which, on the bank of the brook, where the water ran deep and
black, was found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and close
beside it a shattered pumpkin.
The brook was searched, but the body of the school-
master was not to be discovered. The mysterious event
caused much speculation at the church on the following
Sunday. Knots of gazers and gossips were collected in the
churchyard, at the bridge, and at the spot where the hat and
pumpkin had been found. They shook their heads, and came
to the conclusion that he had been carried off by the gallop-
ing Hessian.
It is true, an old farmer, who had been down to New York
on a visit several years after, brought home the intelligence
that Ichabod Crane was still alive; that he had changed his
quarters to a distant part of the country.










ICHABOD CRANE.


Brom Bones, too, who, shortly after his rival's disappear-
ance, conducted the blooming Katrina in triumph to the altar,
was observed to look exc<:cdingly knowing whenever the story
of Ichabod was related, and always burst into a hearty laugh at
the mention of the pumpkin; which led some to suspect that
he knew more about the matter than he chose to tell.
WASHINGTON IRVING.
From The Legend of Sleepy Hollow."


1
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