Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Chapter I
 Chapter II
 Chapter III
 Chapter IV
 Chapter V
 Chapter VI
 Chapter VII
 Chapter VIII
 Chapter IX
 Chapter X
 Chapter XI
 Chapter XII
 Chapter XIII
 Chapter XIV
 Chapter XV
 Chapter XVI
 Chapter XVII
 Chapter XVIII
 Chapter XIX
 Chapter XX
 Back Cover

Group Title: Filial affection, or, Home restored : a story for the young
Title: Filial affection, or, Home restored
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00003224/00001
 Material Information
Title: Filial affection, or, Home restored a story for the young
Alternate Title: Home restored
Physical Description: 160 p., 1 leaf of plates : col. ill. ; 13 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Gilpin, M
Milner and Sowerby ( Publisher )
Publisher: Milner and Sowerby
Place of Publication: Halifax
Publication Date: 1862
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Filial piety -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Parent and child -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Brothers and sisters -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Family stories -- 1862   ( local )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1862   ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1862
Genre: Family stories   ( local )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- Halifax
Statement of Responsibility: by M. Gilpin.
General Note: Frontispiece with text illustration: chromolithograph in colors with gold.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00003224
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002230305
oclc - 48101474
notis - ALH0655
 Related Items
Other version: Alternate version (PALMM)
PALMM Version

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
    Half Title
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Chapter I
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
    Chapter II
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
    Chapter III
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
    Chapter IV
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
    Chapter V
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
    Chapter VI
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    Chapter VII
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
    Chapter VIII
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
    Chapter IX
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
    Chapter X
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
    Chapter XI
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
    Chapter XII
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
    Chapter XIII
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
    Chapter XIV
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
    Chapter XV
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
    Chapter XVI
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
    Chapter XVII
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
    Chapter XVIII
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
    Chapter XIX
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
    Chapter XX
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text












MRS. HAnFORD, to whom we would introduce our
readers, was the proud mistress of a eqmfortabla
and happy home; being the beloved and cherished
wife of an opulent tradesman, who resided in the
vicinity of the large and populous town of L--
in the West Riding of Yorkshire. Mr. Harford
was a worthy and honourable man; esteemed and
valued by an extensive circle of friends; beloved
in no ordinary degree by the members of his own
family, which consisted of three sons and one
daughter. The two eldest, Richard and Edward,
were rapidly approaching to man's estate; while
the third son, William, had numbered little more
than nine years.
Jessie wasjust one year youngerthan her brother
William. These two children were so much alike
in features and in size, that they were generally
thought to be twins.


A happier and more united family circle wan
rarely to be found, than the one, which for years
daily gathered around the cheerf':l hearth of Mr.
Harford, in his simple, but comfortable, residence,
at an easy walking distance from the busy town.
It constituted his highest delight, when the labours
of the day were ended, to return to that pleasant
home; to occupy the one snug corner of that bright
fireside, in which was placed the pld-fashioned
arm-chair, ready for his reception. Oh how
swiftly and delightfully sped those evenings, when,
after the tea equipage being removed, his beloved
wife would hand him his favourite book; at the same
time bringing her own work-basket, and seating
herself at the opposite side of the table, for the
purpose of busying herself with a little family
needle-work. Richard and Edward, the two
elder boys, employed themselves with school exer-
cises for the next day; while little Willie and
Jessie gambolled on the hearth-rug, in their night-
gowns; or played at hide-and-seek, behind their
father's chair, occasionally climbing on his knee
and delighting his ears with their infant prattle.
But, alas! how uncertain is the happiness of
earth The morning sun may rise with splendour,
and illumine with his glorious rays many a peaceful
home, which for long years has been gladdened by
domesticjoy andcomfort;-those revivingmorning
beams may once again cheer the contented inmates


of such dwellings ;-but, alas I ere the descending
shadows of that bright luminary fall upon the
earth, some of those happy abodes may be envelop-
ed in the deep, impenetrable gloom of some mourn-
ful, unexpected calamity! But to return to our
One bright glowning morning, towards the mid-
dle of September, the Harford family werecom-
fortably seated round the breakfast-table. A
cheerful fire was blazing upon the hearth; and
the whole apartment presented that certain ap-
pearance of comfort and brightness, so agreeable
and soothing to the feelings, and so calculated
to promote social enjoyment.
"May we have a holiday, fatherP" said Edward,
taking advantage of a pause in the conversation,
which was just then taking place between his pa-
Oh I yes, father," rejoined Richard, we must
have a holiday; and do, if you please, take us
with you to London: you promised to give us a
treat, Sir, when we deserved it."
So you think, then, you do deserve one, to-day :
eh! Richard ?" replied his father.
"Yes, Sir; we have been very good at school
for a long time, and have received tickets for
perfect lessons, for several weeks back."
"Indeed,' I think we ought to go, father," in.
terposed Richard.

"Well, myboyg, not to-day," replied Mr. Har.
ford, taking out his watch: I shall not be able to
wait for you, as the train starts at nine o'clock i
and there is but just time to get to the station.
Let me hear a good account from the school-mas-
ter, this week; and we will see what can be done
for you, inafew days. Now, donot cry, Edward,"
continued the father, kindly patting him on the
shoulder; "be a good boy, this week, and you
shall go with me to York, next Friday."
"It would be much nicer to go to London,
father," persisted Riohard 'and you promised
tat. we should."
Do not be so teazing, boys," remonstrated
Mrs. Harford; "your father has told you that
he cannot take you with him, to-day; and, if he
kindly offers you a treat to York, on Friday, should
you not be satisfied ?"
We, I think now," said Edward, brightening
up, that I should like better to go to York, after
all; because, Richard," added he, turning to his
brother, "we shall have an opportunity of peeing
that beautiful Cathedral, of which we have heard
so much."
"Yes; and the castle also," returned his bro-
ther. "I should like so much to go through the
castle, and see the poor prisoners."
"A walk round the walls, too," rejoiced Edward,
"would be very pleasant; to be so highly halted


above the city, Oh! of all things, I should enjoy
that. So would you, Willie, would you not ?'
said he, addressing the little boy, who had entered
half dressed: would you not like to walk on those
high walls round the city of York ?"
"No, indeed I should not," replied the little
one, in a very decided tone; for I should fall
down, and kill myself."
But, if father held your hand, my little fellow,'"
said Mrs. Harford, you would be quite safe, then .
wou d you not? But run to Mary, my love, and
ask her to dress you. Stop a moment, Willie,"
interrupted his mother; "bid father good morn.
ing first; he will be gone in another five minutes.
There, now;" continued Mrs. Harford, forcibly
taking the little fellow from his father's arms,
"you have had kisses enough. Go, look for Jessie,
my dear. Is the little one asleep all this time?"
Here she is," said Mary, who had overheard
the last words, as she opened the parlour door.
"Here she is, sureenough;" returned herfather:
' the little miss in her night-gown. Come here,
darling!" he added, as the child sprang to-
wards him; "twenty kisses for father, before he
goes to the train."
"You will be too late, my dear;" said Mrs. Har-
ford, addressing her husband; you will, indeed!
Come, put that child down. I shall be obliged to
turn you out at last, I see," said she; opening

the door, and handing him the carpet-bag and urn.
Well; good-bye dear," said her husband:
"you will surely have the grace to wish me a plea.
sant journey."
"May God Almighty prosperyou repliedhis
wife, with great solemnity of manner, and bring
you safely back to us."
"Amen I" responded Mr. Harford, taking her
hand; at the same time, brushing away the tear
which the earnest affection of her manner had sud-
denly called forth. "You may expect me at home,
dear, to-morrow evening; but, should any thing
occur, in the course of business, to prevent me, do
not make yourself uneasy: just look out for me by
an early train, the following day."
So saying, he turned away from the door, tak-
ing along with him the affectionate wishes of his
family, for his safe and speedy return; then, quick-
ly pursuing his way down the street, he arrived
at the Station. just in time to catch the train.


THE sun, which had peered gloomily through the
mist of a dull, dreamy September day, had at
length sunk below the horizon, to enlighten the
opposite hemisphere; and, though the twilight


was fast fading into darkness, still Mrs. Harford
kept her seat at the window, a station which she
had occupied for the last half-hour, anxiously
looking down the street, in the direction of the
railway station.
May we go to the train, to meet father?" in-
quired Richard, looking up from the book which
he was reading.
No, my dear," replied his mother, "I think
there is no occasion; if father comes, to-night, he
will be here in a few minutes: but I scarcely think
we shall see him until to-morrow. Sb, take up
your books, boys, and be very diligent, or your
tasks will not be prepared for the master; and
that, you know, would displease father."
The increasing darkness obliging Mrs. Har-
ford, at length, to quit her post of observation,
she closed the shutters, and joined the children,
who were making themselves comfortable around
the fire-side. The little party were enjoying the
fire-light exceedingly, by relating stories to each
other, and guessing riddles: thus beguiling the
time, until candles were brought in. But the mo-
ther was oppressed with a sadness for which she
could not account; and a heavy burden that seem-
ed to weigh down her spirit, prevented her from
sympathizing with these joyous young ones, who
ever and anon made the room to ring with their
merry peals of laughter.

After some time, quietness being restored, Ed*
ward and Richard busied themselves again with
their books; while Willie and Jessie found great
amusement on the hearth-rug in building churches,
castles, and towers of Babel, with tiny wooden
bricks, the contents of a box which father brought
home for them, last time he visited the metropolis.
The little circle had been thus engaged for about
an hour, when Mcs. Harford, who had roused
herself with some difficulty from the melancholy
which oppressed her, desired the little ones to put
away theis playthings, and prepare for bed.
"Just wait a minute, please, mother," said Wil-
lie, "till we finish this castle: we have only the
towers and chimneys to put up."
"What is the use of building castles on the
carpet, Willie," said Edward, "when they have
to be knocked down again directly ? You may as
well build castles in the air, as father saye"
But then, it is so funny," said Jessie, laugh-
ing, "to see the wlls and chimneys all tumbling
Yes; that it is," said Willie "now, you will
let me give it the first push, will you not, dear ?"
"Nlo, no," replied Jessie; we will both push
together, and then it will fall the sooner."
So saying, they made a sadden rush towards
the beautiful edifice, and down came the unfortur

nate structure, which was in an instant levelled
with the ground.
"There now," said the mother; "make haste,
like good children, gather up the bricks, put
them nicely in the box, and then bring your
night-clothes to me: it is high time you were un-
After the children had retired to rest, the boys
put away their books; and, as the hour was get-
ting late, Mrs. Harford closed the evening with
family prayer, which worship she always conduct-
ed, in the absence of her husband. Many and for"
vent were the petitions she that night offered up
at the mercy-seat of her Heavenly Father, for his
blessing, his favour, and his "loving-kindness,
which is better than life," to rest upon her little
family. Especially and affectingly earnest was
she, in behalf of the absent one; for whose safe
and speedy return she prayed with unusual fer.
vour. Thus, to the gracious protecting care and
guidance of the Almighty One, she committedher
beloved husband.
I dare say father will have returned, by the
time we get back from school," said the children
to each other, as they busied themselves in pack-
ing up their books, the next morning.
"Perhaps he may not be here quite so early,"
returned the mother; "but no doubt we shallsee
him sometime before evening."


I hope he will not forget to bring the books
he promised us from London. Do you think he
will, mother?"
"No, my dear; father never forgets his dear
boys; and I may venture to say that it is not at
all likely he can forget a promise once made to
them; even were he now inclined, there are so
many booksellers' shop-windows meeting his eye,
in every direction, while passing along the streets
of the great city, that he would, times numberless
be reminded of that, to you, all-important circum:
stance. What has father promised to bring little
Jessie, I wonder ?" continued the fond mother,
stroking the curly head of her little girl
Oh I mother," replied the child, did you not
hear him say that he would bring me a wax-doll,
with blue eyes and flaxen hair?"
That would be just like you, Jessie," said Wil-
lie; "should you like the doll to be like your-
No," returned t&e little girl, with that sweet
simplicity peculiar to childhood, I wish it to be
just like mother;,because I love her so much."
"Well," persisted Willie; "but mother has
black hair, and so that will not suit your fancy."
Did you ask father to bring you a doll, Wil-
lie?" inquired his mother.
A doll, indeed I" said the little boy, laughing
heartily; "just as if I wanted to bea girL No,


mother, but he promised me a rocking-horse; that
will be twenty times better than a doll: will it
not, Jessie ?"
Now, boys," said Mrs. Harford, addressing
herself to Richard and Edward; it is school-
time: make haste, or you will be late; and that,
you know, would be disgraceful. Perhaps, by the
time you return, father will be here."
The afternoon wore away; but Mr. Harford
had not yet made his appearance. The boys re.
turned from school, and were quite disappointed
at not meeting him. Willie and Jessie were at
play in the yard, with hoops and balls. Richard
and Edward, after throwing down their satchel of
books, ran to join them.
In a short time, their mother called them in to
tea; and the little party sat down to the enjoyment
of that social meal, with heightened colour and
sharpened appetites.
Mother," said Edward; "when we have fin-
ished tea, may we go to the station ? Father will
surely be there by this time."
Make yourselves contented, my children," re-
plied the mother: he may perhaps be here in a
short time."
Scarcely had she finished the sentence, when a
loud knocking at the door caused the party round
the tea-table to start.
Oh, it is father !" said the children, in a

Richard ran to the door: Mrs. Harford at-
tempted to follow the boy ; but a strange presen-
timent of evil so overpowered her, as to cause her
to tremble in every limb: so that she was obliged
to return again into the room.
Richard opened the door with glee, expecting to
see his father; but his countenance changed, when
he perceived a strange man, with a letter in his
Does Mrs. Harford live here ?" inquired the
Mother, mother," said Richard, running into
the room, somebody wants you."
Mrs. Harford timidly approached the stranger.
I have brought you this, madam," said the
man, presenting her with a note.
The anxious mother, quickly glancing at the su-
perscription, and perceiving it to be from her hus-
band, tore it open, when the following words met
her eye:-
Do not be alarmed, my dear: I have met
with an accident, but it is not very serious. Do
come to .me immediately, to the Red-Lion, to
which place I have just been conveyed. Richard
can drive you in the spring cart; and, by that
means, I may the more easily be taken home:'



Mus. HAt ORD was so completely absorbed with
the contents of the note she still held in her hand
as entirely to forget the bearer, who remained
standing at the door. But Richard, with more
presence of mind, after begging the man to walk
inside, began, with tearful eyes, to question him re-
garding the unfortunate accident which had be-
fallen his dear father.
Well, young master, I should know all about
it," said the man, in reply to Richard's anxious
inquiries ; as I rode in the same carriage with
him to this here station, or at least nearly to it.
Had lie been satisfied until the train stopped, no
harm would have been done; but, instead of that,
he jumps up, when it was within a few yards of the
station, and, in his hurry to get out of the car.
riage, trips his foot, some way or other, and falls
headlong on to the pavement, with such a violent
force that we thought to be sure his skull would
be cracked outright. Witnessing the accident, I
was, of course, after him in an instant, and endea-
voured to raise him from the ground, but fond
him quite stunned and helpless from the effects of
the fall. Several of the people now came to ren-
der assistance : we tried to lift him up; but he
groaned terribly, and we found that his head was
151 B


much bruised and cut. I tied my handkerchief
round it, to stop the bleeding; and two of us car-
ried him across to the Red Lion, which, you know,
is just opposite the station."
Mrs. Harford's attention was now completely
arrested; and the stranger, who proved to be the
landlord of the Red Lion, proceeded to give her
some further information respecting the unfortu-
nate traveller. In reply to her questions, he said
that, after they had laid him on a couch in the
back parlour, the doctor was sent for, who came
immediately. "He examined his head, which he
found tobe severely injured: his back also was
sadly wrenched ; but he thought, with care, a
cure might soon be effected; So, after binding
up the wound in his head, and giving him
a composing draught, the doctor left him in our
Soon after taking the draught, he fell into a
profound sleep, and continued undisturbed for
nearly three hours: he then awoke, and begged
that you might be sent for. As the doctor parti-
cularly requested that the patient might be kept
composed, I begged him to wait until morning,
lest the excitement of seeing you should make
him worse, and the distressing news of his misfor-
tune be too much for you to bear, at so late an
hour of the night. In the morning, I said, you
would both be better able to bear the interview.

He yielded to my entreaties ; and I made him
as comfortable as the circumstances would allow.
I slept in the same room with him; and, after a
tolerably good night's rest, he awoke quite calm
and collected, though suffering much from pain in
the head and back. The doctor visited him again
this morning, gave him a pill, and begged that, if
he should sleep, we might be very careful not to
disturb him. The opiate had the effect the doc-
tor expected, as he slept for some hours very
soundly ; awaking so much better that, he said, if
I would let him have a little writing-paper, he
would endeavour to write a note, which would ,
not alarm you so much as sending a message."
I thank you most sincerely," said Mrs. Har-
ford, earnestly, when the man had ceased speak-
ing; You have taken a great deal of trouble on
our account; and I am sure, when Mr. Harford is
so far recovered as to be able to attend to it, he
will prove his gratitude to you, in a more substan-
tial manner."
"Pray, madam, do not talk about that, now,'"
said the landlord. "I could not have done less
than assist my fellow-creature in distress; and it
was my duty wjthaL Surely, then, knowing and
respecting Mr. Harford as I do, it gave me great
satisfaction to.be of service to him, in such an ex-
tremity : and I am glad, indeed, that I happened
to be near him when the accident occurred, so


that I was able to pay him all necessary atten-
Indeed, you have acted towards him the good
Samaritan," replied Mrs. Harford; "and we all
feel greatly indebted to you: but do sit down and
rest you a little, while we consider what is best to
be done."
Well," replied the man; I cannot do better
than help you to get the waggon ready, and drive
you there."
"Oh, no, thank you 1" said Richard, "we 6sn
prepare the waggon; but you shall go with us, if
* you please."
In a few minutes, the conveyance was at the
door, and some bedding put in, that the invalid
might be brought home the more easily.
When all was ready, they set off; and, having
reached the Inn, Mr. M-- the landlord,
thought it better to apprize Mr. Harford of the
arrival of his wife and son, before they ventured
into his room.
The sick man received his friend, the landlord,
very ungraciously, when he saw him unaccompa-
nied by the dear friends whom heexpected to see;
and he impatiently begged that.they might be
brought in immediately.
Mrs. Harford and Richard were accordingly
summoned; and, in another moment, they had en.
tcred the room.


As soon as the invalid caught a glimpse of his
wdrl, lie sprang up in bed, uttering an exclama-
tion of joy ; but she, upon beholding his changed
countena lice, pale and \\an with naillering, was .o)
much overcome as to be well nigh fainting. Siio
became deadly sick; and it was with difficulty
Richard supported her to the near, st chair. The
poor boy, however, had the presence of mind to
get some water, which was close by on a table,
and with which he bathed her hands and face. In
a short time, she was so much better.as to be able
to approach her husband, who folded her tenderly
in his arms; and, for a few minutes, they min-
gled their tears together.
Oh !" said the afflicted wife, as soon as she
was able to speak, we little thought of this,
when you set out, the other morning, so well, and
in such good spirits: truly, we know not what a
day may bring forth."
SWe do not, indeed, my dear," replied her hus-
band; but we are in the Lord's hands ; and if
he sees good to afflict us, we must submit, and
with his assistance bear it patiently; particularly,
when we bring it on by our own carelessness,
which was the case with me."
"How so, my dear ?" returned his wife.
"Why; did I not rashly jump out of the car-
riage, before the train stopped ? Though I have
done that, scores of times before, and no harm has


come of it. But, you see, my dear, God's time
was come to humble me, and to prove me: and lie
alone knows how much I need his correction.
Since then, it has pleased him to send this afflic-
tion, we must make the best of it. And now,
dear, I think the sooner we get home the better:
there, with your kind and tender nursing, no
doubt, I shall soon be brought round."
"So now, Mr. M---," continued the invalid,
turning to the landlord, who had just entered the
room; shjl we try to reach the caravan ? but
first we should have a settling, should we not, my
good friend ? I have given you an immensity of
"Pray sir, say nothing about that, at present,"
returned the kind host; I beg you will not:
when you are better, we will talk about it."
"Very well, my good friend; but you will sure-
ly allow me to thank you for your kindness. I
must, indeed, do that. And now permit me to
crave your assistance once more, as perhaps with
Richard's help you may succeed in getting me to
the door. Oh dear!" he exclaimed, when at-
tempting to rise; "I am weaker than I thought.
Why, I might have been a month ill, instead of
only a day or so; a short time indeed to reduce
a person so much. Dear me there is no strength
at all in my back; and my head turns quite giddy,
when I attempt to move."


Then, my dear sir," said the landlord, had
you not better stay where you are : certainly, you
are not fit to be removed."
Mr. Harford, however, would not hear of it, but
persisted in saying that he should be better at
liome: so they attempted to get him to the door.
He was so much reduced, however, as scarcely to
be able to walk at all; so that it was with some
difficulty that he was at length laid upon the bed-
ding in the caravan. Mrs. Harford and Richard
got in also ; and the landlord acted as driver.
In a few minutes, when they came within sight
of their own dwelling, they perceived Dinah, Ed-
ward, and the little ones, who had, for some time
past, stationed themselves at the door, anxiously
looking out for the arrival of the vehicle which
was expected to convey the sick man to his homo.
When it stopped in front of the house, and the
children watched their father being lifted out in
a helpless and insensible state, they wept and sob-
bod aloud, so that poor Dinah in vain endeavour-
ed to comfort them.
"Hush my dears," said the mother; "father
will be better, when we get him laid upon the sofa;
he is very tired now, and you must not make that
noise, or it will disturb him."
The children followed their father, as he was
carried into the parlour; and, when he was laid
upon the sofa to rest, they surrounded him with
anxious faces.


The hurry and excitement had been quite too
much for his weakened frame to bear; so that,
when they laid him on the couch, he fainted away.
Restoratives were immediately applied; and, in a
short time, he opened his eyes, when, fixing them
upon the mournful group which surrounded his
couch, he said, "what is the matter, my dear chil-
dren ? do not cry: I shall soon be better. Come
here, darling!" said the fond parent, taking hold
of little Jessie, and drawing her close to his
breast. Come, let me wipe those naughty tears
away. Father does not like to see his little girl
cry. There, come, kiss me! now, go to mother,
and ask her to get me a cup of tea."


WHILE tea was preparing, Dinah spied the doctor
coming past the window, and called out to her
mistress, to apprize her of the circumstance.
"I am very glad, indeed," 'said Mrs. Harford;
"he is just coming at the right time. Hand him
in here, Dinah, will you."
"Well, my good friend," said the doctor, as he
approached the couch of the invalid ; how do
you find yourself, after all this hurry and excite-
ment P I was very much surprised, indeed, upon


calling at the Red Lion, to see my patient, to find
the bird had flown. Indeed, my dear sir, you
have done very wrong in removing so soon, and
have ventured so far, I assure you, at the risk of
your life. You ought, by all means, to have re-
mained where you were, for a day or two
"Well, doctor," replied Mr. Harford, "you
see, I was anxious to be at home; and, after all,
home is the best place for a sick man. Besides,
my wife is such a good nurse, that, no doubt, un-
der her care, I shall, with the blessing of God, be
restored in a very short time."
"Well, be it so," replied the medicine-man.
"However, since what is done cannot be undone,
we must do our best towards restoring you to
health, if it be God's will; but you must submit
to be kept in perfect quietness. So, I think," con-
tinued he, turning to Mrs. Harford' the sooner
you get him to bed, the better. This medicine is
composing," he added, laying a phial on the table:
" so that lie had better be quietly settled up stairs,
before taking it, that it may operate undisturbed
Mr. M- will assist in getting him up."
"Willingly," replied the landlord; anything
I can do for him, shall be done with pleasure."
The doctor then took his leave; wishing the
sick man a speedy recovery, and begging Mrs.
Ilarford and the children to keep up their spirits,


as he hoped all would yet be well. If," said he,
" we can but prevent the fever from gaining the
ascendancy, we may indulge hope; but, even so, it
will be some time before lie is good for much."
After the doctor had departed, and the invalid
had been refreshed with a cup of tea, Mr. M--
assisted Dinah in getting him up stairs. No
sooner was he comfortably settled in bed, than he
fell into a sound sleep. which lasted sevemr hours;
and, at length, he awoke, apparently much better.
Wearied with the distressing events and exer-
tions of the preceding day, the family early retired
to rest. Mrs. Harford also sought her room, but
not for the purpose of sleep, which her exhausted
frame so much demanded. The nervous excite-
ment was so great, that, instead of preparing for
bed, she sat down beside the couch of her afflicted
husband, who had just fallen into an uneasy slum-
ber, appearing feverish and restless. After some
time, worn-out nature claiming her need of repose,
she threw her head back, closed her eyes, and fell
into a deep sleep.
It might be about midnight, when the sound of
dismal groans, which she had heard some time,
awoke her. She started up in a great fright, and
found her husband struggling violently in a con-
vulsion fit. Distressed beyond measure, she flew
to the door, and, in an agonizing tone of voice
called upon Dinah, Richard, and Edward, to coma


to her assistance. Come, come, my dear boys,"
said the afflicted mother; "your father is dy-
"Oh, no, ma'am!" said Dinah, as she ap-
proached the bed; do not distress yourself so
much; be calm, be comforted, he is coming round
already. Some water, boys; some water;" and
Dinah, with difficulty, opened his firmly-clasped
hands, bathing them and his face with water.
She also wet his lips; but he struggled so violent-
ly, that it was as much as she and the boys could
do to keep him in bed. "Poor thing," said Dinah,
compassionately; he suffers a great deal, but do
not fret so, ma'am, he will soon be better."
The two little ones, Willie and Jessie, were
aroused by the unusual bustle at that untimely
"What is the matter ?" said Jessie, in a great
"Oh father is dying, Jessie; what shall we
do ? I am sure of it: I heard mother call to Di-
nah, and she sounded as if she were crying; and
then she called to Richard and Edward, and now
they are all in the room with father. Oh, listen !
Jessie; listen! do you hear that noise ?"
"Yes, I do," said the little girl; "it was fa-
ther groaning. Oh dear, Oh dear!" continued
the child, as she threw her arms around her bro-
ther's neck ; what shall we do ?"


And thus the poor children wept together,
locked in each other's arms.
I'll tell you what I think will be thobest," sal
Willie; "let us kneel down together, and pray to
our Heavenly Father. You know, if it please
him, lHe can take away the sickness, and let father
get well again."
"But can He, when father is dying?" said the
little girl, doubtfully.
"Yes, to be sure, lie can," replied Willie, in a
very decided tone; "for do you not remember
what the hymn says, which we learned last Sun-
day ?-
"'Tis He can ure our sickness,
And make us well again."
And we have read, you kwow, about Jesus, in the
Testament, curing all those people in Jerusalem.
How He made the blind people to see, and the
lame to walk."
"Oh yes!" said Jessie; "and those that had
the palsy; and He healed them."
"VWell," returned her brother; "we know
that, if it please him, lie can make poor father
well again ; so let us kneel down and ask him."
Accordingly, these dear children got up, ai.d,
kneeling together side by side, poured out the de-
sires of their young hearts, in the following sim-
ple but earnest manner, to their Friend above.
"Oh Thou, our Heavenly Father, we come to
Thee, for the sake of our dear Lord Jesus. We


beseech Thee to cure our dear father. Oh !
blessed Saviour! we have read of thy love and
kindness to the people in Jerusalem: how Thou
didst make the sick people well again. We know,
if it please Thee, Thou canst take away the sick-
ness from our dear father, and make him well
again. Ohi! may it please Thee to cure our dear
father We beseech Thee, do not let him die
Hear our prayers, Oh, dear Lord Jesus! for we
know that, though Thou art in Heaven, Thou
canst see poor children here on earth. Amen."
Having thus preferred theirfervent petitions, in
simple faith, to their Heavenly Father, the dear
children arose from their knees, and, feeling much
comforted, they wiped away the streaming tears,
and crept softly to the top of the stairs, to listen.
For some time, all was quiet in father's room: at
length, they could clearly distinguish Dinah's
voice, exclaiming, Oh! thank God! ma'am, he
is better."
"Then, let us thank God, too," said Willie,joy-
fully. "Oh, Jessie! the Saviour heard our
prayer, and father is better: let us kneel down,
and thank Him."
After this simple act of devotion, the dear chil-
dren got into bed, and endeavoured to compose
themselves to sleep.
But, to return to the sick-room, and to the anx-
ious and distressed group, whom we left gathered
around the couch of the invalid.


His struggles are quite over, now," said the
kind-hearted Dinah; he is as calm and quiet as
an infant. Do, ma'am, come and look at him,"
she continued, addressing her mistress.
Mrs. Harford, who had been sitting, for the last
few minutes, weeping bitterly, upon being thus ac-
costed by her domestic, arose to proceed to the
bed-side of her husband; but her trembling limbs
refused their office : they failed under her; and she
would have sunk to the ground, but for the timely
assistance of her affectionate boys, who flow to her
relief. When, at length, she reached the bedside,
the sick man opened his eyes, and appeared quite
"What is the matter, my dear?" said he, at
length, addressing his wife: "you look very ill:
why are you all here at this time of the night ?
I thought the boys were all in bed, long ago."
"So they were, my dear," returned his wife;
"but we called them up again, you were so ill
we are very glad, however, to see you now so much
"Have I been ill?" said Mr. Harford; "yes,
indeed, I think something must have been the
matter, for I feel very much wearied. But go to
bed, boys,-pray do, or you will not be ready for
school, in the morning."
At this, seconded by a motion from their mo-
ther, the boys left the room.

In a short time after, Mrs. IHarford fell asleep
again. Dinah proposed that her mistress should
go to rest, and that she would watch by the in-
valid, during the night. But Mrs. IHarford would
not hear of this; not wishing on any account to
deprive Dinah of lier night's rest, unless in a case
of actual necessity. And now, she thought, as
her husband appeared to be sleeping comfortably,
she would lie down by him, and, by that means,
endeavour to get a little sleep. Dinah, therefore,
left the room.
Her mistress, now, could no longer resist the
importunate calls of worn-out nature for repose.
She threw her exhausted frame on the bed, and
slept soundly for about two hours. When she
awoke, it was broad daylight; and she found her
husband restless and uneasy. She rang the bell
for Dinah, desiring her to send one of the boys for
the doctor, immediately, and prepare a cup of
tea for Mr. IHarford; but, before the refreshment
could be brought in, he was seized with another
"Oh! he is gone again!" exclaimed his wife,
in a tone of agony.
"Gone where, dear?" returned her husband,
casting upon her a momentary glance of consci-
ousness, which was immediately succeeded by the
convulsive struggles, too terrible and distressing to

At that moment, Dinah entered the room, with
the cup of tea she had been preparing for the in-
valid ; when, seeing his distressing situation, she
had the presence of mind to call toEdward,wlom
she had just passed on the stairs ; and they toge-
ther hastened to the assistance of poor Mrs. IIar-
Little Willie, who had crept softly into the
room, was crying at the foot of the bed, as if his
heart would break.
"Go, my dear," whispered Dinah to the child;
run after your brother, and tell him to bring the
doctor, quickly : you see, poor father is a great deal
Willie hastened to do as he was bid, but found,
upon going down stairs, that Jessie was waiting
for him, to inquire after her father, as she was
afraid to go into the room.
Oh dear, dear I" said Willie; "I am sure now
he is dying. Come with me, Jessie; I am going to
the doctor: come, quick! let us run together."
Hand in hand they passed through the hall-
door, which Edward, in his hurry, had left open ;
they ran along the street, in great haste, and had
no sooner turned the corner, than they perceived
the doctor on horseback, and Edward walking by
his side.
"Oh, please, sir, make haste," cried out Willie,
as soon as he was within hearing distance ; poor


father is a great deal worse: lie is dying, sir; 1
heard mother say so."
Dear children !" said the doctor, compassion-
atcly, as lie glance d for a moment at their distress.
ed countenances, and saw the big tears rolling
down their cheeks. Poor, dear children! I
wi-h I may be able to do father any good."
So sayn, lie spurred on his horse; biddingEd-
ward to Take good care of thelittle ones,and bring
them safely home. When the doctor, a few mi-
nutes afterwards, entered the sick-chamber, he
found his patient just recovering from the severe
fit above mentioned. le approached Mrs. Har-
ford, who was bending over her husband, the pic-
htre of sorrow and despair; and, gently drawing
lier from the bed, he placed her on a chair by the
Compose yourself, my dear friend," said he,
soothingly ; (for she was, at that moment, giving
way to a burst of uncontrollable sorrow) "remem-
ber from whose hand comes this heavy chastise-
ment; even from that kind and gracious Being,
who doth not willingly afflict, nor grieve the chil-
dren of men. We know, as Job says, that afflic-
tions spring not from the dust, neither sorrow
out of the ground, but that they are sent by in
infinitely wise and compassionate God, out of love
to our souls: that,therefore, it is our duty to sub-
mit patiently to His will; feelingassured that there
151 a


is a necessity for every agonizing pang, which of-
ten rends the hearts even of His most favoured
children. As a verse ofa beautifulhymn says;-
Our hearts are fastened to the world,
By strong and endless ties;
But every sorrow cuts a string,
And urges us to rise."
Having thus, in some degree, succeeded in calm-
ing the agitation of the distressed wife, ha turned
to the couch of the husband, whom he found lying
quite still and sensible.
Well, doctor, is that you ?" said the sick man,
as lie bent over him to feel his pulse; I am very
glad to have got home again at last. I don't know
where I lave been, but among some queer people,
who used me very badly. I feel quite sore yet,
from the beating they gave me, last night: they
nearly killed me."
"My poor friend!" replied the doctor; "you
seem but very ill: I am sorry to find you so
much worse."
"Do you think I am going to die, then P" was
the quick reply.
"I don't know, indeed: God can raise you up
again from this sick-bed, if it please Him. His
arm is not shortened, that it cannot save; but
still, to all human appearances, you are not long
for this world."
Well," said Mr. IHarford, raising his eyes to-
wards heaven, with an expression of calm submis-


sion; "Oh my God! enable me to say, thy will
be done! Shall we receive good at the hands of
the Lord, and not receive evil? but my poor wife,
and these little ones, what have they done? Oh!
they will be the sufferers, when I am taken from
them : Oh, what will become of them ?"
Leave thy fatherless children: I will preserve
them alive, saith the Lord: and let thy widows
trust in me," rejoined the doctor.
"Oh yes, that is true," said Mr. Harford;
" why should we doubt the love and compassion
of such a Friend? Oh, doctor, pray with me, and
for them ; for me, that my sinful soul may be
washed in that all-purifying fountain which was
opened for sin, and for uncleanness, when the great
atonement was made by a dying Saviour! Oh!
pray for me that, when my spirit shall be sum-
moned to appear before the judgment-seat of
Christ, I miy be found clothed in the spotless
robe of the Redeemer's righteousness. And pray
for them, those dear ones, those helpless ones.
Oh I my poor wife and children! how can I leave
you to struggle through, alone ? God help them"
So saying, the poor man threw himselfback on the
pillow, quite exhausted.
The good doctor, then,kneeling besidelis couch,
addressed his fervent petitions to the throne of the
Heavenly Grace, according to the desire ex-
pressed by his patient.


During the time the doctor was praying, Mr.
Harford lay with his hands clasped, and his eyes
raised towards Heaven, as if entering, from the very
depths of his soul, into the spirit of each petition.
After the doctor had ceased speaking, the pa-
tient lay for a considerable time with his eyes
closed, apparently unconscious of what was pass-
ing around him.
During this interval, Mrs. Harford approached
the bed-side. The poor children, also, crept soft-
ly into the room; fearing, from the silence which
prevailed, that their dear father had breathed his
last. They looked, one by one, upon his altered
countenance; but that look was too much for
their little hearts to bear, and they burst into a
simultaneous fit of weeping, accompanied by sobs
so loud, that their sick father was aroused. Hie
opened his eyes, and fixed them earnestly, for some
minutes, upon the mournful groupgathered around
his bed: then, looking upon his wife, he held out
his hand towards her, saying, Kiss me, once
more, my dear ; say that you forgive all that I
have ever done to grieve you; and, above all, for-
give the last rash act, which deprives you of my
protection, and leaves you to struggle alone with
these helpless little ones, through a cold, unfeeling
world. Oh! tell me that you forgive me that; I
have prayed to God to forgive me ; earnestly, for-
vently, to that Righteous One ; against whom I.


have so deeply, so grievously offended. And, Oh,
I trust that he has blotted out, as a thick cloud,
my transgressions ; that he has cast my sins be-
hind him, into the depths of the sea, so that they
shall never again be remembered against me; I
trust and believe," he continued, "that, through
the merits of a crucified Saviour, I shall be accept-
ed and acquitted, when called to appear before my
Mr. Harford then beckoned the weeping chil-
dren to his side, and blessed them each separate-
ly ; begging them to be good and obedient to their
dear mother, and, that if they were kind and du.
tiful children, God, their Father in Heaven, would
bless them. He begged them, in conclusion, to
love God, to pray to him constantly i to make
him the guide and the friend of their early days.
Having thus, with much difficulty, given his
family his parting injunctions, the sick man
ceased speaking, and again closed his eyes, as if to
shut out the sight of their overwhelming sorrow.
Mrs. Harford was again entirely overcome
and, almost fainting, was supported by Dinah to a
distant part of the room.
The doctor now hastened to her relief; while
the good domestic endeavoured to sooth the grief
of the little ones.
At this moment, a messenger arrived for the
doctor, who was wanted immediately to visit ano-


their patient: so, begging Mrs. IIarford to com-
pose herself, and saying that he would call again
in about an hour's time, he took his leave, for the
It was, now, towards noon, and, as the invalid
appeared to be quietly sleeping, Dinah persuaded
her mistress to retire to another apartment, and
endeavour to get a little sleep. With this ar-
rangement, poor Mrs. IIarford was not unwilling
to comply, as she felt herselfcompletely worn-out.
She therefore left her sick husband in the care of
Dinah,who promised to call her, should any change
take place, and so, throwing herself upon the bed,
soon obtained that refreshment in sleep, which her
wearied frame so much demanded.
In the meantime, the doctor called again, and
saw, from his first glance at the patient, that a
change for the worse had taken place. He ap-
proached the bed-side, and found him restless and
uneasy. After watching, some time, he arose to
give some necessary orders to Dinah, respecting
his medicine, but was soon recalled to his sta.
tion, by a loud groan from the invalid, who was
seized with another fit.
Call your mother, quickly, my dear," said the
doctor, to Edward, who had just entered the
"Take care you do not alarm her. And Di-
nah, my girl, give me your assistance ; he is dread.


fully convulsed: this may be the last. I fear it
will take him."
Thus summoned, poor Mrs. Harford was soon
again at the bed-side of her suffering husband
The convulsive agonies had somewhat abated, ere
her arrival; and he appeared perfectly collected.
He held out his hand towards his wife; and she
clasped it in her own. He endeavoured to speak;
but she could not tell what he said. At length,
with difficulty, she caught the words "forgiven !
forgiven accepted! blest I" The last farewell he
endeavoured to articulate; but the word he would
have uttered, was cut short by one loud, deep sob,
which carried away his last breath, and released
his spirit, for ever, from a state of suffering and
When the sad truth, at length, flashed upon the
minds of the bereaved family, that their dear
friend and father was taken from them for ever,
their grief knew no bounds. The children, one by
one, as they gave the farewell kiss to the dear re-
mains, dropped their scalding tears upon the pale
countenance, and clasped the cold stiffening hands
so fast, that it was with difficulty they could be
removed from the couch of him, their best, their
dearest' of earthly friends.
At length, the afflicted widow drew near; and
her friend, the doctor, was not sorry to see her
pour out her grief in a violent flood of tears. He
allowed her to remain undisturbed for sometime ;


then, gently drawing her away from the bed of
death, he spoke comfort to her in kind and sooth-
ing accents. At length, he led her into another
apartment, that the last sad duties might be per-
formed for the deceased.


THE day of the funeral arrived; and Mr. Harford
was borne to the grave, followed by his weeping
family, and a numerous circle of friends, by whom
he had been esteemed and respected, while living;
amongst whom, none more sincerely mourned his
loss than our friend above mentioned, the land-
lord of the Red Lion, who had rendered the de-
ceased such essential service in the time of need.
Oh I that unlucky step !" said he, when re.
turning homewards with the Clergyman, after the
interment. "If he had only waited until the car-
riage reached the station, all might yet have been
well; and he might still have been alive."
"My friend," returned this pious servant of
God, "our days are numbered; our times are in
the hands of that All-Wise, All-Gracious Being
who cannot possibly err. He knows the end, from
the beginning, of our lives. He has set the bounds
of our habitation, so that we cannot pass them.


As a sweet little verse, which my little girl was
learning, the other day, from Miss Taylor's beau-
tifully simple collectionof hymns, says:-
He knows the point, the very spot,
Where each of us shall fall;
And whose shall be the earliest lot,
And whose, the last of all."
Therefore, you see, my friend, though the accident
which occasioned the premature death of our la-
mented Mr. Harford, appears to us, and was re.
gretted by himself, and most deeply deplored, as a
rash and careless action, yet, depend upon it, it
was the very means appointed, and foreseen, by
God, of terminating his earthly career. Let us
then bow in submission to his will, and be thank-
ful that such a spirit of resignation was granted to
our dear departed friend, as enabled him to say,
" thy will be done." Let us be thankful that lie
was not found unprepared to meet the awful sum-
mons; but that, through faith, he had secured to
himself an interest in the precious atonement of a
crucified Saviour : so that we trust he is now re-
joicing before the throne of God."
The disconsolate widow, with her bereaved fam-
ily, returned slowly and sadly to their deserted
home. And who that has accompanied a beloved
friend to their last, quiet resting-place, knows not,
from bitter experience, that melancholy feeling
which pervades the bosom, upon revisiting the
chamber where, for weeks, for months, it may be,


such a beloved one laid upon-a couch of sickness,
daily claiming our constgt, our tenderest atten-
To find such ones gone for ever, whose very
helplessness endeared them tenfold to our bosoms,
overwhelms the spirit with an indescribable emo-
tion of desolation and anguish.
Such were the feelings of poor Mrs. Harford
as shemechanically seated herself beside the couch,
upon which her dear husband had so long tossed
in pain and suffering, and from which his coffin
had but just been removed.
But her feelings of grief for the loss of this be-
loved friend, were mingled with other thoughts, of
a most painful nature, regarding the peculiarly un-
pleasant position into which that afflictive, un-
looked-for event had so unexpectedlyplunged her;
and she, at that moment, cast a glance of fearful
foreboding into the future; wondering how her-
self and her helpless family would hereafter be
Long did the desolate widow sit by that for-
saken couch, as if rivetted to the spot, ruminat-
ing on her distressed situation; for she was well
aware that, though not deeply involved, her hus-
band, poor man! had left his affairs embarrassed
little dreaming to be so suddenly cut off from all
earthly concerns and connexions. But she was
determined, at all risks, at any sacrifice, to redeem


his beloved name from dishonour; and for this
purpose she busily and instantly formed the plan
of selling by auction her household effects, to raise
the sum requisite for the full payment of all his
creditors. And, after that, what was to be done ?
She dare not ask herself the question. How was
she to obtain a livelihood? Some situation she
must enter upon, and that, before many weeks
passed over her.
The doubts and fears, the many anxious in.
quiries, which rapidly filled her mind, she could
not settle, nor could not answer. Therefore,
she wisely determined to cast all her care upon
that kind and gracious Being who has said,
"Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in
Him, and He shall bring it to pass." Throwing
herself, therefore, upon her knees, she fervently
implored the direction, the counsel, and support,
of her Heavenly Father.
Cheered and strengthened by this act of devo-
tion, she arose; determining, at all hazards, to
pursue what appeared to her the path of duty;
and scarcely had she done so, when the voice of
her little girl, calling, "mother, mother!" dissi-
pated, for the time, the train of perplexing and dis-
tressing thought.
Hastily wiping away the still flowing tears, she
descended into the parlour, where the few friends
who were waiting to take tea with the family, were


The next morning found Mrs. Harford in her
husband's study, busied among his books and pa-
pers; and, after several long, anxious hours had
been spent in a diligent, scrutinizing search into
his affairs, she was glad to find, from a rough cal-
culation, that the proceeds of her furniture would
meet his liabilities.
This discovery filled her heart, at the moment,
with a secret sense of pleasure and satisfaction, to
which she had long been a stranger.
In the course of the same week, the creditors
were called together; when Mrs. Harford men-
tioned to them her determination of satisfying
their claims to the full, by the sale of her furni-
ture ; but to this proposal, the parties assembled
were too honourable to give ear for a moment.
" No, no I" they exclaimed, with one voice this
shall never be permitted. Let the matter be com-
They were each, and all of them willing to take
a dividend: indeed, what more could they expect,
considering the circumstances into which the poor
thing had been so unexpectedly thrown ?
For the kindness and sympathy of these gentle-
men, Mrs. Harford felt very grateful; but this
settling of the affair, would not, could not, satisfy
herhigh sense of integrity, honour, and justice.
It was at length agreed, at Mrs. Harford's
earnest solicitation, that thesale should take place;


but the principal creditor determined to buy in
again as much of the furniture as would make the
home comfortable for the widow and her family, as
long as it would be convenient for her to remain
in it.


ABOUT three months after these transactions, Mrs.
Harford, finding that her rental term was about
to expire, began in good earnest to look out for
anotherplace of abode. Something she must do,
to obtain a maintenance for herself and family,
or her slender stock of means would soon fail.
Many and many were the plans she had formed
upon this subject, during the last few weeks of
probation, often rejected as soon as formed; and
but to one conclusion had she been able to arrive,
viz., that of commencing a day-school; as, by so
doing, she might still be able to keep the two
younger children with her.
She had written, some time ago, to a brother of
her husband, who rented a large farm, about
twenty miles off in the country; begging him to
lend her some little aid, in the way of getting
her eldest sons apprenticed to a respectable busi-
As she was, one evening, sitting alone, brood-


ing over these perplexing affairs, scarcely know.
ing how to act or what course to take, she was
roused from her reverie, by the sound of an ap-
proaching vehicle, which, in another minute, drew
up in front of her door.
"Mother, mother!" cried out Willie, bolting
into the room, out of breath, with earnestness;
"here is uncle! come, quick !"
It was, indeed, uncle, who, instead of writing,
had come personally to look after the forlorn
Mrs. Harford, though she had not much ac-
quaintance with her brother-in-law, was rejoiced
to see him; and the striking resemblance which
he bore to her departed husband, made him a vi-
sitor doubly'welcome.
After he had rested awhile, and taken some re.
freshment, and bestowed his caresses in abundance
on the younger members of the family, Mrs. Har-
ford opened out to him her future plans and pros-
pects, into which he entered with evident feelings
of sympathy and interest.
Well," said he, at length, when Mrs. IHarford
had ceased speaking; "now, listen to my plan,
which is this; that you come at once to our house.
My good wife wishes you to do so, and says
there is plenty of room at the farm, for yourself
and family; and that there you may remain un-
disturbed, having plenty of leisure to form your


future plans and prospects. As to the two boys,
I have situations in view for them, but have not
settled the matter yet; not being able to come to
terms with the parties, who were too exorbitant in
their demands. I am quite willing to advance a
reasonable sum, as fee, with each of them; but,
under circumstances such as yours, people ought
not to be so greedy. We will, however, say no
more about it, at present; when you come to our
place, we shall have time sufficient to talk the
matter over."
About a fortnight after this, Mrs. Harford,
being called upon to yield up possession of thepre-
mises, prepared to quit the Louse ; and it was not
without many sad, sorrowful feelings, that she
made arrangements for her departure from that
spot which had so long proved, to her, the dear-
est and the sweetest of earthly homes.
She returned the furniture, so kindly lent her by
the gentleman above-mentioned, with many grate-
ful acknowledgments.
He declined receiving it; begging her to keep
it for future use; but, though thankful for his
kindness, she was resolute in refusing.
Early, one bright, frosty morning, towards the
latter end of January, Mrs. Harford, with her lit-
tle family, set off, in a covered waggon, to the
farm of her brother-in-law. They had a long,
dreary, dismal ride; and the short winter's day


was gloomily and quickly closed in, before they
reached the place of their destination.
The loud barking of a huge mastiff, announced
the approach of the travellers, to the inmates of
the farm; so that, uncle, aunt, and cousins, were
all assembled at the gate, long before the waggon
reached it. When, at length, the vehicle drew up
in front of the house, Mr. IIarford hastened to
assist the disconsolate widow and her family to
Welcome to Inglewood!" said he, in a cheer-
ful tone, taking her arm, and conducting her along
the gravelled pathway, leading to the front door
of the mansion. See to the luggage, Tom,"
said he, speaking aside to the servant-man; "and
have it brought into the kitchen, will you."
Elizabeth," said aunt Harford, to her daugh-
ter, a little girl, about nine years old; take your
cousins to the kitchen-fire, for they are almost
frozen, poor children."
The little ones followed Elizabeth, but Richard
and Edward kept close to their mother's side, as
she was escorted by their uncle into the parlour;
a large, old-fashioned room, wainscotted with oak,
with a polished floor of the same kind of wood. A
large table graced the centre, upon which the tea-
equipage was placed, ready for the weary travel-
lers. An immense piled-up fire was burning in
the grate, illuminating every little nook of the
apartment, with its bright blaze.


Mrs. Harford, completely worn-out, threw her-
self down upon a wide, comfortable couch, which
was drawn up to the side of the fire.
Edward, affectionately, hastened to her assist-
tance, removing her mulling, and laying aside her
cloak and bonnet.
At that moment, Frank and William, boys
about the ages of ten and twelve, were ushered
into the room by their mother, and introduced to
their cousins.
Call in the little ones to tea," said aunt Har-
ford, addressing her eldest son ; "I am sure they
will be glad of something to eat."
Yes, I should imagine so," returned Mr. Har-
ford, at the same time drawing up thetable to the
sofa, on which his sister was resting. Come, let
us have tea without further delay.


THiE next morning was devoted to the examina-
tion of thtpremises of the farm. The inhabitants
of the stable, six noble-looking horses, who were
regaling themselves from a well-stocked manger,
afforded the boys no little delight. They were, in-
deed, sleek, beautiful animals; and the children
stood a long time admiring them.
1iL1 3

They next proceeded to the cow-house; where
eight or ten cows were quietly chewing the cud:
there was, also, a tremendous, fierce-looking bull,
chained up in one corner. The animals, inquir-
ingly, turned their heads, upon the entrance of the
children; and the bull looked as if he should have
enjoyed the sport of tossing them up in the air,
with hishuge, thick horns. Thepoultry-yard was,
in turn, the scene of investigation; in which ap-
peared, huddled together, cocks, hens, ducks,
geese, guinea-hens, pea-hens, pea-cocks, altogether
making such an insufferable crowing, cackling,
gabbling, clacking noise, that you might be glad
to make your escape from the scene of action.
From the poultry-yard, they proceeded into the
stack-yard, and were much pleased in walking
round about, counting the hay and straw stacks.
Nor did they forget to visit the granary and barn;
with the latter of which they were particularly de-
lighted; since they enjoyed such fine fun, rolling
and tumbling'in the straw, climbing up into the
hay-loft, and jumping down again, or rather tum-
bling head over heels into the straw below.
When tired with these innocent recrelionls, they
sallied forth to explore the gardens and orchard,
which, being very extensive, took them some time;
and thus passed the morning.
After dinner, Mrs. Harford, feeling herself a
little recovered from the fatigue of the journey,


took a ramble with uncle, aunt, and the children,
through the fields and meadows immediately ad-
joining the house. The surrounding scenery, as
far as the eye could reach, was really lovely and
beautifully picturesque; and she expressed herself
extremely delighted with it.
Mrs. Harford had a natural taste for the beau-
ties of nature; and, therefore, the prospect now
before her, most forcibly impressed her mind with
a sense of the love, the goodness, and the power
of that Almighty Being, who called this beautiful
world into existence, for the service, the comfort,
and the pleasure of man. And, while gazing upon
the charming scenery, a peaceful calm seemed
breathed into her soul, to which she had long been
a stranger; and which, as oil upon the waters, al.
played the perturbation of her troubled spirit. And
from whence proceeded this calm, this still, small
voice of peace? even from Him, the Blessed One;
who once stilled the tempest on the lake of Gali-
lee; which was sent, in immediate answer, to the
whispered petitions of her spirit, as they, that mo-
ment, ascended to his Mercy-Seat.
The farm was situated upon a hill, and the ad-
joining fields commanded a fine view across a
lovely little valley of green hills, banks and knolls,
I fumbled and tossed apparently one upon the top
of the other, in most careless, elegant fashion :
so beautifully blended in infinite variety; so in-

termingled in all sorts of shapes, forming dells and
dingles the most romantic you could imagine:
and then to stand and see the blue mountains in
the distance, bounding the prospect, and overtop-
ping all; you might almost fancy yourself in fairy-
land. Particularly on a bright, sunny evening,
when the clear sparkling river showed itself to
perfection, winding its silent course, meandering
through the little valley; now and then hiding
itself from view among the thick underwood of
some deep, shady dingle; and again glancing its
bright waters in the sunshine, as it leaps out into
a more open part.
Now,let us glance across the river to the right,"
said Mr. Harford, to his sister; and there, in the
back ground, you may observe a noble plantation
of fir-trees, crowning the very top of one of the
highest hills. Now, cast your eyes to the left:
there, upon the opposite hill, you may see the hum.
ble cottages of the village, perched like so many
bird-cages, with their red-tiled roofs, and white-
washed walls.
"That one, standing a little apart from the rest
on the very highest point, is the Methodist Chapel;
the hill, ornamented with gardens, sloping down
almost perpendicularly, to the river's side, is the
back of the village. You see the houses as they
appear at the edge, just as if a breeze would blow
them over into the water. But the front of the

HOME ErsTOlErD. 63
village, or town, as they call it, though still hilly,
is not so much so as the back: it was levelled
some years ago for the better accommodation of
the inhabitants.
We can just see the church from this point,
peeping through the trees of theplantation. It is
beautifully situated between two hills ; but to-
inorrow, if you like it," continued Mr. Harford,
still addressing his sister, we will take a ramble
through the village; when we can shew you all that
is worth looking at."
The disconsolate widow returned from her ram-
ble, not only cheered and exhilarated, but very
much pleased with the beauties of Inglewood.
The next day, being dry and frosty; though
keen and cold; yet, as the sun was shining bright-
ly, our party set off on their exploring expedition
through the village, which was much more exten.
sive than Mrs. Harford had any idea of. The
houses,which were mostly low-roofed cottages, very
substantially built, surrounded an extensive old-
fashioned village green, almost in the form of a
square. Through the middle of the green, you
may see the high-road to neighboring towns and
villages threading its course.
Crossing the green, down a steep bank, you find
your way to the church, which faces you as you
cross the river, over a wide, substantial, stone
bridge, of several arches; for here, the little, danc-

ing, sparkling, frisky stream, above-mentioned,
winding its way so beautifully through the valley,
has swollen its modest waters out into a noble ri-
ver, just approaching and underneath the bridge.
The church is a good-sized building, neat and
plain; and the churchyard prettily ornamented
with its evergreens, casting their sombre shadows
upon the white tombs. Close to the churchyard,
on one side, only separated from it by a meadow
abounding with little green knolls, covered in the
spring-time with violets and primroses, is the plan-
tation of fir-trees, above described.
"When I first came to Inglewood," said Mr.
Harford, being the depth of winter, it was knee
deep in snow. I ii... i.ii IL. it was the prettiest
place I had ever seen. The hills looked like im-
mense snowballs, tossed carelessly up and down,
for amusement, by some gigantic being. The roads
in and out in all directions, were obliged to be cut
before any vehicle could travel. The village, green
fields, and gardens, were covered with one immense
carpet, of spotless white.
I particularly enjoyed, at that time, a walk by
the brilliant moonlight across the village green;
the mountains in the back ground, covered with
snow, overtopping the houses which surrounded it,
looked sublimely beautiful. But what a change
when the thaw came on! how dismally dirty, eve-
sr thing appeared then. Slop,. slop, you might

run down the banks, ancle deep in mud, and snow.
water. Still, the river was a beautiful sight: the
ice cut up by the thaw, into immense thick pieces,
like flag stones."
Inglewood, is certainly a very pretty place,"
returned Mrs. Harford, looking admiringly around
"Yes;" replied her brother, "a charming coun-
try if the inhabitants were a little more in char-
acter: but they are grossly ignorant, and unculti-
"Are they so indeed ?"
"Yes; did you not notice that group of rude
boys, whom we passed a short time ago ? How they
stared in your face, looking after you as far as they
could see you; crying out,' I say, Bill, dost know
whoo yon woman is wi' Harforth ?' Noo, Jack;
I don't ken: some freend or either I reckon frae
th' toon. I ken shoo looks akin to ane!' "
Mrs. Harford was highly amused; and, at
length, she said, Have you no schools then, in
this place, that the children might be better in-
Oh, yes; there has been a national school for
boys and girls, for the last twenty years, at least:
and, I suppose, a good deal of improvement has
taken place during that period: but you see the
parents pride themselves in their ignorance; and
bring up their children in disobedience, :.i' C ili,

and vulagrity: so what can a schoolmaster or mis-
tress expect to effect, under such circumstances,
be they ever so competent, when their efforts, in-
stead of being aided and carried out by the parents,
are constantly thwarted and opposed ?"
The clergyman of the parish, who superintends
the school, has been indefatigable in his endeavours,
for many years past, to promote a better state of
things; and I suppose it is said that he has effect-
ed a great reformation ; but still, according to my
idea, there is much work yet, for some one to ac-
complish; since strangers, walking the streets,
have constantly to complain of the great annoy-
ance they experience from the children of both sexca,
who seem to take delight in tormenting decent peo-
ple as they pass, with their vulgar language."
By this time the party had reached home, much
delighted and entertained with their afternoon's


AnoUT a fortnight after this, through the kindness
and influence of their uncle, Mrs. IIarford's two
eldest sons, were apprentised to respectable par-
ties in the neighboring town : so that the mind of
the widow was now relieved of part of its burden.
V illie too, was sent on a visit to another uncle,

nHOM-E ETO'roTD. 57
who lived still further distant; and Jessie now
only remained with her mother.
Another month passed away, and Mrs. Harford
began seriously to think of a more permanent place
of abode, for herselfand little one. But, whenever
she mentioned the subject to Mr. Harford, both
himself and wife protested against it, saying, Now
do make yourself comfortable: what is the hur-
ry ? You know you are heartily welcome to remain
as long as you like; and we have plenty of room.
Indeed, I don't know what poor Elizabeth will
do," said Aunt Harford, "if you take Jessie away:
they are such nice companions. So I think if you
persist in going, you will be obliged to leave us
the little girl for a legacy."
"No, no!" said the widow, smiling; "that
would never do ; where I go, my little Jessie must
go also. Oh no! I could not part with my heart's
Still the widow expressed herself truly grateful
for their affectionate attentions to herself and fa-
mily; but she determined in her own mind to
look at once after a situation, which she had heard
of, through the medium of an old friend at a dis-
tance, viz. a good day-school; which, the lady who
had kept it for some years, was now on the point
of resigning.
After writing, therefore, andreceiving a favour-
able answer, she mentioned to Mr. Harford her in-


tcntion of taking the journey, which was thirtj
miles from his residence.
"Well," replied he; "since you are determined
to leave us, you must not go alone and unbefriend-
ed, on this wonderful expedition; so, if you will
accept of my protection, I will accompany you,
and see what accommodations you are likelyto meet
with, in that distant part."
Mrs. Harford expressed her thanks for his kind-
ness, and it was arranged that they should set out
the beginning of the following week. The day set
apart for the journey, at length arrived; and the
widowwith her littlegirl, took leave of their friends
with many thanks for their kindness ; many fare-
well kisses, and embraces.
"If you find the situation does not suit you,"
said Aunt Harford, (as her husband's spring cart
was moving off with them to the railroad station,
some three or four miles distant) be sure youre-
turn to us. Here you will always be welcome:
and you know, we have abundance of room."
"Yes, yes! so she shall return," said Mr. Har-
ford, but we shall see when we get there what
sort of a place it is. If not likely to suit, be as*
sured I shall not allow her to remain. So, good
morning, once more; it is time we were off.
Towards the middle of the day the travellers
reached the small town in which Mrs. Harford's
friend resided, who wrote to her about the school:
so they drove directly to her house.


The family were at dinner; but Mrs. Wilmot
was so much delighted when she found who her
visitors were, that, after the first warm greetings
were over, and, without further apology, she beg-
ged them to be seated at table, and partake of what
they had. When the cloth was drawn, and wine
and spirits set upon the table; the gentlemen be.
ing provided with cigars, pipes, &c. the conversa-
tion turned upon the object of their journey, viz.
the school; which, instead of being a private day.
school, proved to be a National one, under the su-
perintendence of the clergyman of the parish. The
lady, who had been its teacher for several years,
had been obliged to relinquish its duties a few
weeks ago, on account of severe illness.
Being intimate with the clergyman," said Mrs.
Wilmot, "I mentioned my friend, Mrs. Harford,
to him, as being in quest of some such situation,
and he said, he would not look after a teacher un-
til he heard from you. Perhaps this evening,"
continued Mrs. Wilmot, "when you feel a little
rested, you might be inclined to call upon the gen-
tleman, with me, from whom you would learn all
particulars; and be better able to judge whether
it would be likely to suit you, or not."
"Well," said Mr. Harford, to his sister, after
a few minutes' silent consideration, this does not
appear at all a likely thing for you. Just think,
for a moment, you have never been accustomed


to the lower grades of society, nor the ill-bred clns.
of children with which you must of necessity dai-
ly associate, if the teacher of a National school-
T'heir insolent vulgarity of manners, springing
from theignorance in whlichthey have been brought
up, would be a dreadful annoyance to your sensi.
tive mind.
"Not that I would say anything against the
poorer classes; far be it from me to despise them :
on the contrary, I feel for them the sincerest pity ;
since they have not, as we, enjoyed the benefits re-
sulting from the advantages of early education."
Indeed, my dear brother," replied Mrs. Har-
ford, "if we were all of your way of thinking, the
benefits of superior education would never be con-
veyed to them; as we should stand aloof from
them altogether, poor things! lest our too sensi-
tive minds should be damaged. Let us rather fol-
low the example of that Blessed One, our lowly
Redeemer; who, while he sojourned in this lower
world, delighted to convey the benefits of the di-
vine instructions of his infinitely pure and holy
mind, to the common people ; to the poorest of the
inhabitants of every town, city, and village, which
lie visited."
After a little further conversation of the same
nature, it was determined that the whole party
should call upon the clergyman in the morning,
for the purpose of making further inquiries res.
pecting the school.



W rEN Mr. Harford arose, the next morning, at
daylight, according to his usual custom, he was
Eorry to find it pouring- with rain. What a day
for a journey!" said he to himself; "I wish the
rain had been kind enough to have waited a lit-
tle.' However, he proceeded to dress himself; si-
lently making his observations on the sombre sky;
asthe thick darkcloudsgathered, rolling themselves
after one another on the tops of the hills, and there
resting in sullen gloom.
In a short time afterwards, when he met the fa-
mily at breakfast, Mrs. Wilmot observed,
You will not think of leaving us to-day, Mr.
Harford; we have you prisoner now, on account
of the rain."
Not quite so fast, Mrs. Wilmot," returned he.
"It may clear up time enough for me to set off.
If I get home before the night sets in, it will be
all right,"
"There is not much appearance of its clearing,
to day," said Mr. Wilmot, as far as I can judge;
but all the better for us, my friend," he continued,
addressing Mr. Harford, "we shall enjoy your com-
pany so much the longer. A day can make no
great difference."


Well," said Mrs. Wilmot, after a short pause;
"the rain neednotprevent us calling upon the Rec-
tor, his residence is not many yards from this."
Oh no, we can manage that, I dare say," said
Mr. Harford; "and, no doubt, a rainy morning
will favour our purpose; as otherwise he might be
from home, visiting his flock."
Very likely he might be engaged in some such
way, as he is ever at his post, attending to his du-
ty ; so that if we do not visit the Rectory early,
rain, or no rain, we may find the bird flown."
About ten o'clock, therefore, the little party set
off; and, as the distance was not very great, they
soon arrived at the desired spot.
It was a pretty, rural enclosure, separated from
the road by a long avenue of chestnut, beech, and
sycamore trees; the former of which, being now
in full bloom, presented a very beautiful appear-
ance. A broad, smoothly-gravelled carriage-road
*wound its way between these trees up to the man-
sion, which was bordered on each side by well-kept
flower-beds, whose back-ground was formed by the
delicate lilac and golden laburnum, all in full bloom
(it being the latter end of May) ; so sweetly, so
luxuriantly, perfuming the air, as their elegant
blossoms droopedbeneath the influence of the kind-
ly shower, which was thus refreshing the face of
The Rectory was a good-sized, plain building,


of modern architecture; ornamented in front by
flower-beds, laid out in fanciful style; beyond
which was a park, small in extent, but of velvet
appearance, slightly studded with trees, and inter-
lpt-ried with gravel walks. The whole was beau-
tifully kept. The ring at the door was answered
by a footman in livery.
Is Mr. B- at home P" demanded Mr. Wil.
The reply was in the affirmative; and, the do-
mnesic opening the door on the left, handed them
into spacious, handsomely furnished, diningroom.
Tlchro was a large, cheerful fire, burning in the
grate, and a luxurious sofi. drawn up to one side
of it, as if inviting Mrs. Wilmot and her friends
to rest themselves upon it, and make themselves
comfortable for a few minutes.
In the meantime, Mr. Ilarford reconnoitered
the apartment, admiring the paintings on the
walls, some of which for design and workmanship,
were reaIl beautiful.
In about a'quarterof an hour, the door opened,
and his Reverence enteredl. Ie wasa middle-aged
Cril-built man, with a comuntnance expressive of
the greatest benevolence and kindness of heart.
Lis black hair was slightly sprinkled with grey,
ond hir large, full eye, had lost but little of its ra-
After bowing to the rest of tho company, he

shook hands cordially with Mrs. Wilmot, saying,
" to what am I indebted for this kind visit, on so
unfavourable a morning?"
This is the friend I mentioned to you," replied
Mrs. Wilmot, introducing Mrs. Harford.
What !" said the Rector, in a tone of surprise,
looking intently at the lady in question, "regard-
ing the school ? A very unsuitable person indeed!"
The widow cast down her eyes in utter disap-
pointment. Mr. Harford appeared much annoyed.
Oh do not mistake me," added Mr. B--,
quickly noticing the effect his words had produc-
ed upon the company: "what I mean is this;
that the lady is much too good to fill any such si-
tuation as that of a National School Mistress."
Our poor friend looked up, relieved; and Mr.
IIarford smiled at Mrs. Wilmot.
"Indeed, my dear madam," continued the Rec-
tor, "you know not the difficulties attending such
a situation. The untutored, ignorant, vulgar set
of children with whi6h you must there, of neces-
sity, from day to day associate, would be, if not
disgusting, quite offensive and repugnant to a de-
licate and refined mind, such as I should judge
yours to be. You have most probably had little
acquaintance with the class of children of which
Swe are speaking, and have not, I am quite sure, the
least idea of the trouble attending such a school.
There are constant trials, and daily annoyances,


arising from the mismanaged tempers and dispq-
sitions of the children at home. Something is
always wrong. The parents, in their ignorance,
come to find fault, where no fault exists; and
blame the teacher for what, had they the least
grain of sense or discernment,mightjustly demand
their praise. Something, as I said before, is al-
ways wrong. One child has not done a sufficient
quantity of work ; another has not improved in
reading; another was put out of her place, by her.
companion; another lost her work in the street,
and the teacher is expected to be accountable for
that; another was punished for misconduct, and
the parent of that child says, she did not send
her bairne to school to be threshed, and have her
head broken.' Indeed, I could not enumerate the
little tormenting annoyances to which a person
in such a situation must be continually subject."
Here a general burst of laughter from the little
party, interrupted his Reverence, and put a stop
to his harrangue.
"Well, Mrs. Harford," said Mrs. Wilmot,
"after what you have heard, I should think you
will be inclined to give up the idea of your new
Certainly," replied Mr. Harford, she will
never be so foolish as to engage in any such situa-
"I do not wish the good lady to be deceived,"
151 N


said Mr. B--, though, if, afterall my plain deal-
ing, she is still disposed to make the trial, I shall
be most happy to engage her services."
"Indeed, I must confess," saidthe widow, smil-
ing, that I am not at all discouraged, notwith-
standing all that has passed upon the subject.
Trials and obstacles we must expect to encounter;
for what situation in life is without them ? But
should we all stand aloof from the poorer classes,
on account of the difficulties connected with their
instruction, they might even remain in their igno-
rance: so that I have determined," she continued,
turning to Mr. B- "since you will accept my
services, to make a trial of your school; in which
situation I see before me a wide sphere of useful-
ness, which, as a Christian, I ought to endeavor
to improve."
"I admire and approve your sentiments, my
dear madam, and believe the principles upon
which you mean to base your plan of instruction,
to be very excellent; but allow me to say, though
you may zealously commence your labours, and
make way, as you suppose, for some time, in the
work of reformation, yet you will have to expe-
rience that what you supposed accomplished one
day, appears to be completely undone on the next:
so that it is a constant drill, drill, hammer, ham.
mer, to make the least impression, or the least way
in their instruction. You see, Mrs. II, I am dis-

iOr iz RESTOr.n.D. b"

conraging you again. I shall, however, be assured,
be most happy to enlist in my service the abili-
ties and zeal of so competent a person as yourself ;
and sincerely hope your licalth and olher circum-
stances (lie added, with a smile), may allow you to
keep the situation longer than I expect."
A little desultory conversaI ion followed; after
~which, our friends bid the Rector good morning ,
and took their leave. The rain was still pouring
down heavily, so that they hastened homeward as
quickly as possible.


As the school had been closed, some time, on ac-
count of the illness of the late mistress, it was
thought advisable that Mrs. IIarford should com-
mence duty as early as circumstances would per-
mit. It was accordingly concluded that, in the
course of another fortnight, the children should as-
semble, for the re-opening of the school.
As the intermediate time was too short to al-
low of Mrs. Harford's return to Inglcwood, her
brother made preparations to depart without her.
Before taking leave of her; however, lie begged
that, if she found the situation too laborious, or
as disagreeable as the clergyman represented, that


she would give it up at once, and return to the
farm. Always remember," added lie, with much
feeling, that, as long as 1 have a home, you anid
, ours will be warmly welcomed to a share of it.
So do not, I entreat you, at the risk of your health,
carry on that school; nor allow yourself to be tor-
mented with a parcel of tiresome children."
Tilhe widow thanked him, over and over again;
while little Jessie clung to her uncle, with much
eagerness and allection.
Do not leave us, uncle," said tle child. Oh,
do not go!"
But, my dear, I must go," returned Mr. iar-
ford; "' so be a good girl, and do all you can for
"Yes, that I will," said the little one, eagerly;
"but please to tell aunt and cousins, that I shall
soon come again to see them."
It was now time for Mr. Ilarford to leave them,
and they parted, with much affection and kindness
on both sides.
Mrs. IIarford continued with her friend, Mrs.
Wilmot, until suitable lodgings could be procured.
This was found to be a dilicultnmatter. At length,
after many inquiries, they heard, through the me-
dium of a friend, of an old maiden lady, who
rented a large convenient house, the only occu-
pants being herself and a servant.
She had been applied to, several times, by others,


for the same purpose, but without success; and
it was thought that Mrs. Harford might be refus-
ed; but, as Mrs. Wilmot said, there could be no
harm in trying," she, along with her friend, called
upon the old lady, who at first hesitated, not lik-
ing the idea of another inmate.
After a little conversation, however, upon the
subject, she appeared to alter her mind; consider-
ing, no doubt, that the superior society of such a
person as Mrs. Harford, would compensate, in a
great measure, for any little annoyance connected
wit li the sharing of her mansion with another.
So, after all, it was settled that the widow and
her little girl should be the occupants of two very
pleasant rooms, situated at the back, overlooking a
large garden and orchard, with a considerable tract
of country beyond, gradually swelling up towards
a range of lofty, rugged-looking mountains, which
formed the boundary of the landscape.
Well, the fortnight of probation expired, and
tlheMonday arrived for the re-opening of the school.
But, what morning! The sky darkened with thick,
gloomy clouds, from which the rain was pouring
in incessant teeming showers. "A bad omen,
this;" said Mrs. H., as she proceeded, with her lit-
tle girl by the hand, towards the school.
The school-house was a plain, substantial one-
storied stone building, with half a dozen respect-
able-looking windows in front. It was divided


into two apartments, one for the boys, the other
for the girls.
Round the building was a large plot of ground,
which was separated from the road by a quick-set
hedge, and a few sycamore trees. That in front
was neatly laid out in grass-plots and flower-beds;
and that towards the back served as a playground
for the children. Mrs. Harford had several times
reconnoitred the outside premises, which were very
respectable, but had never yet been inside. What
was her dismay, then, upon opening the door, to
find an uncommonly large, desolate-looking room,
with a flagged floor, naturally damp, but now satu-
rated with wet from the rain pouring down from
a ventilator in the roof, and that brought in by the
children's feet, there being neither scraper nor mat
at the door; so that the floor, in wet weather, was
literally like the street, covered with mud.
The place had an extremely bare appearance;
there being no other furniture, save a set of dingy
black-looking forms, down each side of the room;
an old-fashioned wooden arm chair, and a large
deal table graced the corner, next the fire-place.
Fire, however, there was none. A thick smoke
certainly issued from the grate, giving promise of
a blaze sometime before night.
The hearth, with its heap of cinders and ashes
scattered round about, with no fender to keep them
in bounds, no shovel or coal-rake to gather them


up, had certainly a very deplorable appearance.
Nothing in the shape of fire-irons was to be seen,
except what was once a poker; now, through long
wear and tear, reduced to half its size. A feather
from the wing of a goose, or a dirty rag, supplied
the place of hearth-brush.
As Mrs. Harfordadvancedfarther into the room,
making her observations, she espied two or three
children, huddled together in one corner, (from
four to five years old) looking half frozen with the
cold of the room, which Mrs. Harford felt to be
intense. Indeed, it seemed to her almost like en-
'tering a vault.
She sat down by what should have been a fire,
with cloak and bonnet on; and scarcely.had she
done so, when a group of girls, from eight to ten
years of age, came pell-mell into the room, like as
many wild colts; jostling, bustling, pushing, as if
they would knock each other down, and taking
no further notice of the strangers, than staring
rudely in their faces.
One of these hopeful youngsters came up to the
fire, seized the stump of a poker, raked out the
contents of the grate on to the hearth, half smo-
thering Mrs. Harford with smoke and dust, and
proceeded to relight the fire; while two or three
others at the same time took hold of one of the
forms, dragged it towards the fire, and seated them-
selves at the top end of it. At that moment, ano-


tlir group of bigger girls threw open the school
door, entering in the same disorderly manner as
the former ones; bustled up to the top of the afore-
said form, and endeavoured to drag the first girls
out of their seats, saying, "this is my place! Let
me have my place, I say !" No," said the one at-
tacked, it is my place, I got it first; I shall not
getup: you shall not have it !" Here a tremendous
struggle ensued; and the girls began to deal their
blows about so unmercifully, that Mrs. Harford
thought it time to interfere. She told them to de-
sist, and sit down in any place they could find;
for that it was impossible they could all sit in one
place. Some of them obeyed; but others persist-
edin their rebellion, and continued standing; the
whole of the morning, rather than take lower seat.
As, by this time, the girl who had taken the fire
underhand, had succeeded in getting it to burn,
Mrs. Harford commenced operations in the way of
teaching. She endeavoured to classify the children,
and to restore the school to order and quietness,
before calling them up toread ; but this she found
a more difficult matter than she at first imagined;
for talk they would, in spite of all her efforts; so
that she could scarcely make her own voice to be
heard among them, all the morning. Once the
schoolmaster entered from another apartment;
commanding them, in a stentorian voice, to be si-
lent : this, as long as he remained in the room, had


the desired effect; but the moment lie turned his
back, the hubbub began again. Oh what a morn-
ing poor Mrs. Harford spent! What with the cold
atmosphere of the room, the chill of which went
to her very heart, and the intolerable noise of the
girls, which set her head in a whirl of distraction,
the poor thing returned to her lodgings, in a pi-
tiable state of fatigue and excitement.
Upon entering thd parlour, she threw herself
upon the sofa, utterly exhausted. Mrs. Travers,
the kind old landlady, followed her into the room.
"Poor soul!" exclaimed she, compassionately,
"the school has been quite too much for you, this
It has so, indeed," replied Mrs. Harford, in a
despairing tone. "I think," she added, "it would
have been quite as well, had I taken my brother's
advice, and given up the idea of the situation; as
I fear I shall never be able to manage it. Such a
set of children I never met with; so riotous, dis-
obedient, disorderly; so entirely ungovernable. If
these are the pleasures of a village school, I, for
one, do not covet them !"
"Dinner will be on the table in a few minutes,"
said Mrs. Travers. I ordered it early, thinking
you would not have much time, the recess being
short. But what is the matter with you, my
dear ?" she continued, turning to Jessie, who was
standing beside the window, looking uncommonly

grave.: Come with me, love, and have a race
with Bengoe, in the garden, while mother rests a
I shall leave her with you, this afternoon, if
you please, Mrs. Travers," said the widow: she
can amuse herself with your lap-dog and parrot.
The dear child was so cold and uncomfortable in
the school, this morning, I quite pftied her; poor
little thing."
"Oh, yes; certainly," replied the old lady;
"the little dear will be nice company for me. But
dinner is waiting, if you please."
The afternoon was speft by Mrs. Harford much
the same way as the morning. No regularity, no
order; all riotous confusion and bustle. Toilsome,
indeed, she thought the post now allotted her; but,
since she had taken the duties upon her, however
laborious, she must endeavour, fora time at least,
to fulfil them.
She had almost got through the first class read-
ing, but with great difficulty, owing to their care-
lessness, and the noisy talking of the little ones
behind, when the Rector made his appearance.
No sooner had his Reverence entered the room,
than every tongue was hushed; and the tumult of
riotous children subsided into a perfect calm of
quietness, which continued as long as he remained
in their midst.
"Well, Mrs. Harford," said the Rector, "how


have you succeeded, so far ? Have you been able to
bring these turbulent little rebels into subjection ?"
It has proved a more arduous task, hitherto,
than I anticipated," replied Mrs. Harford. "The
children seem dreadfully out of order. I have
found it quite impossible to gain their attention,
or their obedience. Indeed, the noise they make
during school hours, is quite unbearable; I assure
you, sir, what with the intense cold of the room,
and the intolerable riot of the children, I spent a
most miserable morning."
Oh I am sorry to hear it, indeed; but this
state of things must be put a stop to: they must
either submit to authority, or leave the school
The truth is, Mrs. H., they have been so much left
to themselves, during the illness of the late mis-
tress, who occasionally got supplies so altogether
incompetent, that the children are completely
spoiled. But I have no doubt, under your good
management, they will soon become tractable and
obedient; and then they will advance rapidly in
their education. But how is it the room has been
so cold? Had you no fire ?
"There had been an attempt at making a fire,
certainly; nothing however appeared but smoke,
till eleven o'clock."
"Oh that will never do! the girls take their
turns to light the fire; and they must be regular."
I fear," said Mrs. Ilarford, "if they are no


more attentive to that duty than to their books,
we shall often have to sit in the cold."
That must not be, however; we must trythem :
but, should they persist in leaving you without fire,
something else must be done; as your comfort
must be attended to.
The floor appears very damp; the roof must be
looked after, that the rain may be prevented com-
ing through, in this way. And we will see after
some more furniture for the room. A desk, for
instance, and fireside apparatus. We must try
to make you more comfortable, Mrs. Harford."
No sooner was the Rector gone, than the noise
again commenced; and Mrs. Harford, being com-
pletely worn out, thought she could not do better
than dismiss the children; but they could not
even put their bonnets on, and leave the room,
without quarrelling, and striking each other.
And so ended poor Mrs. Harford's first day at
school; and she returned home, not only dispirit-
ed, but disgusted with her new situation.
"Well," thought she, to herself, as she walked
slowly towards home, "I wish I had taken Mr.
Harford's advice, and not undertaken this school;
but, since I have, I must try it for a while, at any
rate; otherwise it would appear so whimsical of
Mrs. Travers met her at the gate; telling her
that Mrs. Vilmot waited for her in the parlour.



Tpeo receiving this information, Mrs. Harford
hastened into the house, to welcome her friend.
"I am truly delighted to'see you," said she;
"your society, this evening, after a day of turmoil
and trouble, such as I have spent, will be quite a
comfort. But let us have tea, before I open" out
my budget of miseries; we shall then beb better
able to turn it over, and pronounce judgment up-
on its contents."
Then you have not found the instruction of
those children such an easy task as you anticipat-
Indeed, I have not: so much to the contrary,
that I shall dread going among them to-morrow.',
"We!l, my dear," replied Mrs. Wilmot, "you
cannot blame our good Rector; he gave you faith-
ful warning as to the difficulties you might expect
to meet with in such an appointment. But still,
as Mr. Harford advised, if you find it too disagree-
able or too laborious, give it up at once. Do not
carry your notions of philanthropy so far; to
such an extreme, as to slave among the poorer
classes, until your health is injured, or perhaps
completely sacrificed."
"You see," said Mrs Harford, it would ap-
pear so very whimsical to give it up immediately;


besides, I have certainly not given it a fair trial,
"No; you have not: you will, no doubt, by per-
severance and labour, get the children more into
your own way. In the course of another month,
you may see quite a different state of things in the
I think I must take courage, and try again,',
said Mrs. Harford; "nothing good or great was
ever yet effected without perseverance."
But this dear child," said Mrs. Wilmot, tak-
ing little Jessie on her knee: "you surely don't
mean to confine her in that Babel of Confusion."
Oh, no; that would never do. I should be
very sorry for her to witness the bad example of
those girls, and to hear their barbarously vulgar
language. No; I must beg good Mrs Travers to
take the child under her protection, during school.
hours. She can amuse herself nicely, playing with
the lap-dog, or chattering to poll-parrot."
"Now, would it not be as well," observed Mrs.
Wilmot, "to allow the poor child togo home with
me, until you get a little more settled. It will
enliven her, and do her good."
You are very kind, to invite her; but I should
miss her company much. However, as I am per-
suaded it will be for the little one's good, my
selfish gratification shall not stand ia4h r way, so
as to prevent her. We will, therefore, if you


please, leave it to Jessie to make her own choice,
whether she will go with you, or remain here,
with me."
Oh! mother," said the child, "please, may I
go with dear, kind, Mrs. Wilmot P" and, as she
threw her arms coaxingly around the neck of that
lady, she added, in a whisper, don't let me go
any more to that dirty, cold, school. I do not
like those bad girls."
Well, dear, so you shall come with me," said
Mrs. Wilmot; "and we shall enjoy ourselves
nicely together."
Time passed on; and Mrs. Harford, in the
course of a few weeks, to the great relief of her
own mind, began to see some fruits of her labo-
rious and persevering toil, in the much-amended
conduct, and improved attention, of the children,
to their studies.
She had in a great measure succeeded in quelling
that turbulent, noisy, behaviour with which they
were wont to enter, and leave, school; and she
had, at length, got them, as Mrs. Wilmot ex-
pressed it, a good deal "into her own way:" that
is, more regular, orderly, and quiet. And, though
she found it an almost impossible thing to put a
stop to the whispering, yet no loud talking was to
be heard, during school-hours. Her scholars
weekly increased upon her; and the duties of the
school became more and more arduous: so that,


before the first six months were expired, she be-
gan to find her health seriously giving way.
The Rector, who, in his occasional visits to the
school, had noticed her gradually-fading looks,
called one evening at her residence, to have little
conversation on the subject.
This will never do, Mrs. Harford," he abrupt-
ly commenced ; your health, I plainly perceive, is
falling a sacrifice to your praiseworthy and bene-
volent exertions, in promoting the education and
welfare of the children. Much as I shall regret
losing the invaluable services of so competent a
teacher as yourself, yet I cannot permit you to
continue this situation, at such a sacrifice of health,
and perhaps of life. Allow me, my dear madam,"
continued the Rector, to express my very great
satisfaction at the progress the children are mak-
ingin their studies, and particularly their advance-
ment in their knowledge of the Scriptures. In-
deed, their religious improvement, altogether, af-
fords me very great pleasure. There is also a
marked alteration in their general conduct and de-
portment. A great deal of that vulgarity of man-
ner, so offensive to you, upon your first coming
among us, is, I am glad to perceive, in a great mea-
sure, done away with. Now I have pleasure in
meeting a little girl in the street; because, instead
of the former rude stare, and the blunt 'Yes,' and
' No,' she can speak properly, and behave respect-


fully. Now, this is as it ought to be; and you
will have the pleasure of leaving the school, Mrs.
IHarford, in a very different state, to that in which
you found it. We may therefore justly apply to
you, the higheulogium bestowed by our Saviour
on the lowly-minded but heavenly-spirited Mary,
in reply to the objections of those around, who sat
in severe judgment on her conduct:-' She hath
done what she could.' But what we shall do
without you, I am sure I don't know. It will
be no easy matter to supply your place in the
Mrs. Harford, after replying, in suitable terms,
to the Rector's kind expressions of satisfaction re-
garding the manner in which she had fulfilled the
arduous duties of her situation, said she thought
it advisable that she should continue at her post,
until the school should close for the summer holi-
days, which were now only a few weeks distant.
To this Mr. B. assented; but, upon taking leave,
as he earnestly fixed his eyes upon her thin pallid
countenance, he much feared she would not be able
to do even that.




ABOUT a week after this interview, Mrs. Harford
arose, one morning, after a restless and feverish
night, feeling very much indisposed. Mrs. Tra-
vers begged her not to attempt going to school,
but to allow her to send word to the children they
were to have a holiday. To this, however, she
would by no means consent.
With much difficulty shemanagedto get through
the morning school; went again in the afternoon;
but, before half an hour had elapsed, was taken so
extremely ill, as to be obliged to send the children
Her residence was at no great distance; but,
near as it was, she found it no easy matter to reach
it. Fortunately for her, Mrs. Travers happened
to be standing at the parlour window, and, observ-
ing her weary, unsteady manner of walking, has-
tened to her assistance, fearing she was worse.
The old lady met her, just as she got inside the
garden gate, and led her, or rather dragged her,
inside the hall door, when she fainted away in her
The maid, who ran out to see what was the mat.
ter, was on the spot, to render assistance; so, be-
tween them, they got her laid down upon the sofa,
in her own apartment. It was some time before

she came to herself; and, when she did so, she ap-
peared so very ill, that it was thought advisable to
call in medical assistance.
The doctor was accordingly sent for; who, when
he arrived, pronounced her disorder to be a ner-
vous fever, brought onby over-exertion. That the
excitement of the school had been too much for
her constitution to bear; and consequently the
nervous system had been overwrought.
"Such a situation," continued the gentleman,
in an angry tone, was never fit for a person like
He ordered her to be got to bed, as quickly as
possible; to be kept quiet, and free from all excite-
ment; and that he would send the necessajme-
dicines, upon his return home.
The next morning, the Rector, having heard of
Mrs. Harford's illness, called to see her.
He met Mrs. Wilmot in the parlour : she and
Mrs. Travers had been up with her, during the
night, as they thought her not in a fit state to
be left.
The child," Mrs. Wilmot said, was as yet ig-
norant of her mother's situation; and she thought
it better she should remain so, for a few days, at
The school," said the Rector, "had better be
closed, at once, for the recess. It is very evident
that poor Mrs. Harford will never resume its du-


The next day, the invalid being no better, it was
thought best to write to Mr. Harford, without de-
lay. Mrs. Travers was exceedingly kind and atten-
tive; and Mrs. Wilmot seldom left her bedside.
Mr. Harford was much grieved, upon receiving
the intelligence of his sister's illness.
I thought it would come to that," said he to
his wife, as he handed her the letter. "Why could
she not be satisfied to remain with those who made
her welcome, and were glad of her company ? Such
a situation as that low.lived school was never fit
for person like her. Poor thing, she was brought
up to better expectations. She should have taken
my advice, and have had nothing to do with such
a try situation."
'rWell, what is to be done ?" said Aunt iar-
ford, returning the letter to her husband: "she
mustnot remain there, ill, among strangers. And
the child, poor little thing! what a pity she took
her with her; it would have been much better had
she left her here, with us."
Don't you think so, Elizabeth ?" said Mr. Har-
ford; observing the child listening attentively to
the conversation of her parents. "Don't you think
it would have been better if aunt had left dear lit-
tle cousin Jessie behind her, to play with you ?"
Oh, yes! father," said Elizabeth, brightening
up, I wish cousin Jessie would come back !"
"Well, my dear," replied her father, "make


yourself content; we shall soon have your little
playfellow with us again; so you must be very kind
to her, and love her as a sister."
And may she go to school with me, father?"
Yes, in a while, when she gets a little used to
"Well, my dear," said Mr. Harford, again ad-
dressing his wife, what is the best to be done, re-
garding our poor sister ?"
To bring her home again, certainly," said she,
"as soon as she is fit to be removed: so I think
you had better go at once, whichwillbe moresa-
tisfactory than writing."
"Yes, I think it will be better," replied he;
" and, as there is nothing particular to prevent me,
I may as well go by an early train, to-morrow."
It was about eleven o'clock, the next morning,
when Mr. Harford arrived at the small town in
which his sister resided. He thought it would be
advisable to call first at Mrs. Wilmot's, and was
making his way up to the hall door, when little
Jessie espied him, through the window. The child
flew to the door, and threw her arms around his
neck, in a perfect ecstasy of delight.
Dear uncle !" said she, I am glad to see you:
did mother know you were coming ? for she never
told me; and I was so surprised to see you !"
No, my love," returned Mr. Harford, "your
mother does not expect me; but where is Mrs.
Wilmot ?"


At this moment, the servant appeared, who beg.
ged him to be seated, until she ran for her mistress;
saying to him aside, that little Miss was not ac-
quainted with her mother's illness, as Mrs. Wil-
mot feared she would fret very much: therefore
she did not tell her, but kept her here with her,
to be out of the way.
In about half an hour, Mrs. Wilmot entered the
room, saying,'" Dear me! Mr. Harford; I am sur-
prised to see you; how kind of you to come so soon
my poor friend will be so glad: it will quite cheer
her to see you I"
"Poor thing! how is she? said Mr. Harford
kindly. "I thought that good-for-nothing si-
tuation would knock her up at last."
She is no worse," replied Mrs. W., but still in
a very bad, low way. She was very ill, for the first
few days; and the doctor ordered her to keep her
bed, until the fever should decrease. He says, the
disease is entirely on the nerves, brought on by
the over-much exertion of the school. She is also
very weak, poor thing, in consequence of the fre-
quent fainting fits to which she has been subject,
since the commencement of her illness. But the
doctor says, with proper care and attention, he
has no doubt she will be speedily restored."
I am glad to hear it," said Mr. Harford; "I
feared she would have been killed outright with
the slavish toil of that school but let us go to her
at once."


When Mr. Harford was introduced into the
apartment of his sister, he found the invalid prop-
ped up in bed with pillows, looking so pale and
emaciated that he was quite affected, and in vain
endeavoured to brush back the tears. The little
Jessie, too, upon beholding her mother in such a
condition, cried and sobbed as if her heart would
Mrs. Travers drew her from the bedside, and en-
deavoured to amuse her, but all in vain.
So, my dear Aster," said Mr. H., rallying his
spirits, and endeavouring to speak cheerfully, so,
this is what you have got with your school-keep-
ing. Had you taken my advice, and given up all
thoughts of such a situation, you would have es-
caped this illness, I fancy."
"Perhaps not," said the widow, in a faint voice;
"' but, since affliction has overtaken me in the way
of duty, I must endeavour to bear it patiently."
My dear sister," said Mr. Harford, earnestly;
"you remember what I said, upon taking leaveof
you, last time, that, as long as I have a home, you
and yours will ever have the warmest welcome to
a share of it. This cordial assurance I again re-
peat to you; therefore, I have come with the de-
termination to take you back with me, as soon as
you are fit to be removed. My wife is exceeding-
ly anxious to have you home again ; and our lit-
tle Jessie also," he continued, taking the child in


his arms, and wiping away her tears, saying, you
will be glad to go back to Inglewood, and play
with Elizabeth; will you not, my dear?"
"Oh, yes; I shall indeed, uncle," said the
child, sobbing as she spoke: don't let poor mo-
ther go to that nasty school any more, it makes her
so ill; and then she will die, as father did."
No, my little love," said her uncle, kissing her,
"she shall not go to that nasty school again; but
you shall both come home with me, to the farm.
Aunt wishes for your comparfy very much;
and cousin Elizabeth will be so glad to have lit-
tle Jessie to play with, and to be her companion
in going to school."
During the few days which Mr. Harford spent
with his sister, he found her gradually gaining
strength; but, as business would not allow him to
prolong his stay, he was obliged to return home
without her; assuring herat parting, that he would
visit her again in the course of a fortnight, by which
time he hoped she would be so far recovered as to
have strength sufficient for thejourney. The good
gentleman, however, was somewhat mistaken in
his calculations, as a month from that period
elapsed, before his poor sister was able to leave her
room; during the whole of whicn time, she re-
ceived from Mrs. Travers, and her friend, Mrs. Wil-
mot, the most kind and affectionate attentions.
At length, whei the doctor thought she might


be removed with safety, word was sent to Mr. Har-
ford, who came for her immediately.
It was with mingled feelings of emotion that
Mrs. Harford took leave of her kind and faithful
friend, Mrs. Wilmot, and her good old landlady,
Mrs. Travers.
The Rector, too, who had been unremitting in his
attentions during her illness, was not forgotten in
her farewell visits ; and she took that opportuni-
ty of thanking him for all his kind encouragement,
during the short time she held the office of teacher
under him.
The above-mentioned friends accompanied her
to the railroad station; where they parted from
each other, with many assurances of constant
friendship and affection.


"WELCOME home again!" said Aunt Harford, as
she once more, accompanied by Elizabeth, ran
down to the gate to meet the travelling party.
"Dear little Jessie !" she continued, taking the
child from Mr. Harford's arms, as he lifted her out
of the chaise which brought them from the station.
" There, Elizabeth; take the sweet little playfel-
low you have so often longed for; while I assist


poor dear aunt into the house. Kiss your little
cousin, and be a very kind sister to her."
"Thank God!" said Mr. Harford, (his counte-
nance beaming with satisfaction, as he seated him-
self at the tea-table) we have arrived safely at
home, once more. And remember," said he, play-
fully turning to his sister," that Inglewood farm,
from henceforth, must bp considered your home.
We shall not again allow you to ramble in quest
of adventures, such as National Schools, &c., &c.,
but expect you will settle down here, and make
yourself content and happy.
should you, however, be at a loss for employ-
ment," continued he, in the same playful mood;
" we can furnish you with teaching; so that here,
as well as elsewhere, you may exercise the talents,
and assume the authority of the schoolmistress.
See, here are your pupils, Jessie, and her friend
"Hopeful ones, too, I think they will prove.
What think you of the plan ?" he added, turning
to his wife.
I like it much," she replied; it will be a great
deal better than sending them to school. Indeed,
there is not a suitable one in this village; and the
distance to the next town would be too great."
"As I mean," resumed Mr. Harford, "to adopt
Jessie as my own child, Elizabeth will be no long-
er at a loss for a sister; she must therefore, in con-


sequence of this determination, be brought up in
my own house, whether her good mother takes it
into her head to run away from us again, or not."
Mrs. Harford here interrupted, and endeavoured
to thank her brother for his genuine kindness and
warm generosity towards herself and family; but
being as yet weak from illness, she was too much
overcome by emotion to proceed, and could only
vent her overcharged feelings in a copious flood of
"Come, come, this will never do!" said Mr.
Harford, after a long interval of silence, during
which time the kind efforts of his wife had suc-
ceeded in calming the agitation of the widow:
" this will never do I I repeat, we meet together
once more to make ourselves happy and comfort-
able; not to spend the time in tears and lamenta-
tions : and besides," added he, "I was interrupted
in my laying out of plans for the governesship;
you have not heard half of them yet."
Well, let us have the remainder then," said
his wife, smiling; we are quite ready to listen to
them, and to assist you in forming more, if neces-
Give me your attention then, for a few minutes,
if you please. You know the spare room at the
back of the house; it is large, airy, and light; com-
manding a pleasant view of the gardens and orch.
ard, the meadows beyond, and the hills inihe dis-


"Now, I have been thinking that, as we mako
very little use of the apartment in question, it
might be converted into a school-room, for the uso
of the governess and her pupils," added Mr. Har.
ford, looking archly at his sister-in-law.
A very bright idea indeed," said his wife; "and
the bed-room opposite would make, when comfort-
ably furnished, a snug little sitting-room, so that
governess, (as you please to term her) may esta-
blish herself at once in her own apartments; al-
ways remembering that, whenever she chooses to
join our family circle, her society will be consider-
ed by us, at all times, a great addition to our com-
fort and pleasure."
The grateful widow again attempted to express
her sense of the obligation, but was silenced by
her brother's well, well! say no more about it."
That night, when Mrs. Harford retired to the
privacy of her own apartment, she rendered her
devout acknowledgments to her Almighty Preser-
ver and Benefactor, who had so graciously led her
inways which she knew not, and, atlength, brought
her to a comfortable home, in the midst of kind
friends, where she might spend her time in peace
and tranquillity.
"Truly," she' exclaimed, in the fervour of her
gratitude, "' Thou art the God of the widow, and
the Father of the fatherless ;' that promise of thy
holy wAd is indeed verified in my case: They


who put their trust in the Lord, shall never be
Nor did she forget to call down from Heaven,
by her supplications, the richest blessings upon the
head of him who had indeed acted the part of the
kindest brother towards her; who had proved him-
self the friend in need, in so generously providing
for the comfort of herself, and the welfare of her
helpless family.


A FEW weeks after Mrs. Harford had got herself
comfortably settled in her new home, she was one
morning called down to dinner by her little girl.
Oh, mother, do make haste!" said the child
"uncle is tired of waiting : he told me to fetch you
quickly. There is such anice dinner I roast goose
and plum pudding; and we have company too."
"Company! have you, my dear? you should
have told me that before, Jessie."
"Oh, it is no one you will care about; at least,
no body you need be afraid of ;" so saying, the child
danced by her mother's side as she led her down
stairs into the dining parlour; when, throwing the
door open, what was the fond mother's surprise, to

see her three dear boys, seated around the dinner
table !
In a moment, they were folded in her arms;
while tears of gratitude, affection, and pleasure,
mingled together in one warm, simultaneous, tide
of feeling.
"My dear Edward! my dear Richard !" ex-
claimed the weeping mother, how you are grown !
how well you look! What an unexpected plea-
sure to see you to-day. And my darling little
Willie! poor little fellow!" she continued, while
pressing him close to her bosom.
The child sobbed and cried as if his heart would
break; and it was long before he could be pacified.
Oh, mother," said he, at length, do not send
me away from you again! do not let me leave you
any more."
"You shall not, my darling boy!" said his un.
cle, taking the child from his mother's arms, and
placing him kindly between his knees. "You shall
not leave mother again, but stay and live with us:
then you can go to school up stairs, with Jessie
and Elizabeth; and, in the mean time, you shall
learn to be a farmer. Will that do, my boy ?"
"Oh, thank you, dear uncle !" said Willie, his
countenance brightening: how pleasant that will
be! You are very kind, you are indeed!"
When the tumult of feeling occasioned by this
unexpected meeting had a little subsided, Mr. Har-


ford directed the attention of the company to the
roast goose, of which Jessie had spoken with such
glee, a short time before, to her mother, and which
now graced the head of the table, waiting for him
to do the honour of carving.
The invitation of the host was not disregarded;
and the happy group seated themselves once more
around the table, with sparkling eyes, and counte-
nances beaming with grateful pleasure.
The benevolent master of the family sat si-
lently contemplating the scene before him; his
countenance glowing with those exalted feelings of
pure satisfaction which the consciousness of hav-
ing contributed in no small degree to the comfort
and happiness of those now surrounding him, was
calculated at once to create, Nor was the kind
matron, who, at the opposite end of the ample
board, gat busily dispersing her favours, less ani-
mated with pleasure, springmg as it did from the
same pure source of benevolent and hospitable feel-
ing, which ever found a resting place within her
When the cloth was drawn, and nuts, ginger-
bread, apples, &c. were being handed round for
dessert, the boys began to amuse their friends with
a history of their adventures.
"Well," said Richard, stopping to take breath,
at the end of a long narration, when my appren-
ticeship is out, I shall begin business for myself


and then, my dear mother," he continued, fondly
embracing her, we will take a small cottage, quite
beautiful and romantic, you know, it must be, con-
taining agood-sized parlour, a comfortable k'tchcn,
two bed-rooms, one for you and Jessie, and the
other for Edward,Willie,and myself. Thenwemust
have a garden in front, ornamented with flower-
beds, and a useful one at the back, for fruit trees
and vegetables.
Edward will also be doing business for him-
self ; so that, between us, we shall have plenty of
money: then, mother, you shall live like a queen."
"Ah! Richard," said the laughing little Jessie,
giving her brother a very roguish look, you are
building castles in the airl You used to say to
Willie and me, don't you remember ? when we
were at home in our sitting room, building up our
bricks on the floor, and when we knocked them
down, you said, we might as well build castles in
the air."
This simple reminiscence, on the part of the
child, so forcibly brought to the widow's mind the
scene of that memorable evening, when, in such dis-
tressing anxiety of mind, she awaited the return
of her beloved husband from the railroad station,
that she was quite overcome, and burst into tears.
"Dear mother! what is the matter?" said Ed-
ward, alarmed.
"I know what she is thinking of," said Willie,

University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs