Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Oscar: A tale of Norway
 Home at the Haven
 The foundling of the wreck
 The children and the sage
 The seeker and the finder
 The story of Wellington
 Back Cover

Group Title: Stories for summer days and winter nights : illustrated with coloured plates and wood engravings.
Title: Stories for summer days and winter nights illustrated with coloured plates and wood engravings
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00026321/00001
 Material Information
Title: Stories for summer days and winter nights illustrated with coloured plates and wood engravings
Physical Description: 1 v. (unpaged) : ill. (some col.) ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Lydon, A. F ( Alexander Francis ) ( Engraver )
Groombridge and Sons ( Publisher )
Publisher: Groombridge and Sons
Place of Publication: London
Publication Date: 1872
Subject: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Juvenile fiction -- Norway   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1872   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1872
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00026321
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 - 002237922
notis - ALH8416
oclc - 25097885

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Title Page
        Page i
    Table of Contents
        Page ii
    Oscar: A tale of Norway
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
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        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
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        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
    Home at the Haven
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
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        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
    The foundling of the wreck
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
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        Page 126
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        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
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        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
    The children and the sage
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
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        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
    The seeker and the finder
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
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        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
    The story of Wellington
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
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    Back Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
Full Text

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cars of-his

was during the twilight of a day in the
spring, that a middle-aged, bluff, but
good- humoured bonde, or Norwegian
farmer, seated in one of the curious little
country, drawn by a small, rough, sturdy,

and sure-footed pony, was slowly making his way up a
steep hill on one of thosp high tracts of ground called
thefielde, which separate from each other the lowlands
of Old Norway.

It is no easy matter to conceive

of the


reigns on those broad mountain

I _~__
'-~-~i-------~-~- -,'-"-----------------
~---- -------
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L~- ~1 ----



For -


miles and miles across the higher part of the field
scarcely any vegetation is to be seen; or where a few
hardy trees have managed to take root, they reach to
the height of but three or four feet, and show by their
crooked and knotted stems through what hardships
they have struggled, while the dark rocks of which
the mountains are composed, stand out rugged and
bare, or are clothed only with moss, or covered with
almost perpetual snow.
For nine months in the year it is cheerless winter
on the field; and during the other three, fierce
storms of rain, snow, and wind are frequent. There
are, however, numerous spots on every field which,
for two or three months in the year, are lively with
herds of cows and horses, and flocks of sheep and
goats; for almost every farmer in Norway, in addition
to his arable land in the valley, has a large extent of
pasture ground on the field, whither, in summer, he
sends his cattle, herdsmen, shepherds, and dairy-maids;
and to which, indeed, with his whole household, he
himself sometimes migrates. These yearly trips are
holiday seasons to all concerned in them, and are an-
ticipated with great satisfaction. Sometimes these
seaters, as such spots are called, are near to the farm;
but oftener they are at the distance of many miles-
even of a long day's journey; and, in every case, a
building, more or less spacious, is attached to the
sweater, and known as the seater-house or hut.
In the long field winters, which include both
spring and autumn, these seaters are deserted, and
travellers may pass a whole day in the bare and cheer-
less region without meeting either friend, stranger, or
enemy. At such times field travelling is not unat-
tended with danger; and this remark brings us back
again to the beginning of our story.


I have said that the farmer was middle-aged and
good-looking, but it would have been difficult at this
time to form any judgment of either of these matters,,
so carefully was he wrapped up from head to foot. A
large cap of sheep-skin covered the traveller's head,
and was tied under his chin so as to hide the whole of
his face, excepting eyes, nose, and mouth, which also
would probably have been concealed, only that it is,
awkward travelling with the eyes shut, and very
unlikely that a true Norwegian would journey any dis-.

-------. _17:- -..--

tance without a lighted pipe in his mouth. Great
boots of fur, reaching to his thighs, were drawn over
the farmer's ordinary dress, and a pair of long gloves
of the same material, reaching nearly to the shoulder
of each arm, were fastened by a leather thong round
the upper part of his body; while over the shoulders
of the driver was thrown a large wolf-skin, furnished
with arm-holes, and buckled tight round the waist by
a broad leather belt. Thus equipped, and squeezed
into the seat of his car, which did not exceed an ordi-
nary elbow-chair in. size, and was so near the ground
that an overturn would not have been attended with
very alarming consequences, had an overturn taken


place-thus equipped and seated, the traveller bore
with great fortitude the cutting blasts which assailed
him, and the slow pace with which his little, rough,
but tough and strong-winded nag-which he now and
then addressed by the name of Gustaf, or Gustavus-
was climbing up the long ascent.
At length this arduous task was accomplished, and
the traveller and his steed had reached the highest
ground on that part of the field. For a minute or
two the panting Gustaf rested to recover breath, and
Gustaf's master looked around him.
The prospect was not very enlivening: stretched
before the traveller was a wide tract of wild and
uneven ground, destitute of vegetation, and covered in
many parts with snow. Over this desolate space
wound the road, which was to be traced by tall poles
placed at certain points, intended for the guidance of
snow-bewildered travellers. On one side, the field
seemed as though cleft asunder by some sudden con
vulsion of nature, forming a narrow valley or chasm,
several hundreds of feet deep, along the bottom of
which ran swiftly a mountain stream, which, viewed
from above, looked like a narrow silver thread. On
the other side, at the distance of many miles, was seen
the great mountain of Sneehatten, or Snowy-hat, so
called because the snow on its summit never dis-
appears. Around the traveller and his horse not a
living thing beside themselves was visible, nor a sound
to be heard in that vast solitude, except the hard
panting .breath of Gustaf, and the cheering words of
the driver.
Oscar Essmark-for that was the traveller's name
-did not linger more than was needful on that ex-
posed spot, for the twilight was now rapidly disappear-
ing, and dark threatening clouds had gathered round.


Come Gustaf, good Gustaf," he said to his pony,
"we must not loiter; old Sneehatten looks spiteful
to-night; and we shall be fortunate if we can get to
shelter before the storm reaches us. So, step out,
good beast, for your master's sake and your own."
Gustaf seemed perfectly to understand his master,
for without further urging, he proceeded on his
journey with renewed vigour.
But fast as he trotted over the rough road, the
storm which Essmark had predicted gathered faster;
and they had scarcely gone half-a-mile, before it burst
upon them with fearful violence. First came a mighty
gust of wind, which nearly lifted Gustaf off his legs,
and brought him at once to a dead standstill. The
little car, however, stood it bravely, for it had been
built for such stormy passages as this. The driver,
too, kept his seat unconcernedly, for this was not the
first time he had passed over the field.
While the hurricane was yet increasing in violence,
a thick mist shut out from the traveller the sight of
even the nearest object; and then came driving across
the mountain top a fall of snow, so heavy and so fast,
as to threaten in a short time to bury car, pony, and
The extreme violence of the hurricane compelled
them to pause; and Essmark, wrapping himself up
more closely in his wolf-skin cloak, and drawing higher
around'him the apron of his car, waited with, patience
the next turn of affairs. "If I can manage to reach
the next seater," he said to himself, the snow may
come, and welcome; and if I had a sledge instead of
a car, I would not be long in reaching home either.
But patience, good Gustaf; if it comes to the worst,
we can foot it when the storm gives over, and leave
the old car to take of itself."


After a short time the first force of the hurricane
seemed expended, and though both mist and snow
were thick as ever, the traveller determined to make
another attempt at reaching the shelter of which he
had spoken. Gustaf appeared to be of the same mind
as his master; and again needed only a gentle word
of encouragement to urge him forward. After-a few
desperate plunges, he succeeded in dragging the car
clear from the heap of snow which had accumulated
at its side, and slowly moved onwards.
In the course of half-an-hour all traces of the road
had disappeared, and neither in the sky above, nor on
the earth beneath, could a single object be- discerned
to guide the traveller in a right course; and it was
only by carefully noting the direction of the wind that
he could be sure he was not going back instead of
And, indeed, it soon became a matter of doubt with
Oscar. Essmark whether, with all the experience of
himself and Gustaf in field travelling, they had not
widely wandered from the road; for when, from time
to time, he looked out into the mist, not once could he
catch sight of a guide-pole, rising above the broad
surface of snow which glimmered through the dreary
foggy darkness.
Courage, good Gustaf," said Essmark, after one
such fruitless attempt; "we shall reach a shelter pre-
But for three hours or more after the storm first
began, were the travellers-man and beast-exposed
to its fury without reaching that shelter; and at length
poor Gustaf showed such signs of fatigue, that
Essmark, encumbered as he was with his warm but
clumsy and heavy clothing, took pity on his weary
animal, and, dismounting, led him gently forward,



.- .
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sinking deeply at every step into the newly-fallen
It was well that the traveller was thus considerate,
for he had not advanced many paces before he found
himself treading on the edge of a steep bank, over
which a single false step might have hurled both him-
self and Gustaf into some unknown abyss. Carefully
picking his way, with the snow still beating in his
eyes and half blinding him, Essmark discovered what
appeared a more gentle declivity, down which he led
his beast; "for even the shelter of a bank," thought
he, "is better than none at all; but where I am now
passes my poor wit to find out."
Very cautiously picking his way downwards, the
stout-hearted farmer at length found himself and
Gustaf again on tolerably level ground, and close by
the brink of a small mountain lake, the ice of which,
not yet completely broken up, was floating in large
masses on its surface, and covered anew with the snow
which had so recently fallen, and was still falling.
Above, to the height of thirty or forty feet, rose,
like a dark wall, the rocky bank which he had
The moment Essmark saw the lake, he uttered an
exclamation of surprise. Strange," said he, that
I have been so misled. There will be no reaching
home before morning, that is certain; and to think of
our having wandered so far off the road! I gave you
credit for more sense than this, Gustaf," he continued,
patting his pony as he spoke. "But cheer up, old
friend, we will get shelter here at least; and again
he urged on his weary beast, which floundered at every
step, until they once more halted at the door of a
small wooden building, close under the bank, and
partly covered by an overhanging rock.


No signs of life were discernible; and, indeed, the
traveller knew perfectly well that the edifice, which
was a small seater-hut, was at this time uninhabited;
but undismayed by the knowledge of this fact, he un-
harnessed Gustaf as fast as his cumbrous gloves would
allow him; then, lifting the latch of the deserted
hut, he entered, and was followed by the pony,
which, no doubt, knew that on such a night the
poorest accommodation would be better than none
at all.
It was evident, from the further proceedings of the
farmer, that he knew how to act in emergencies like
the present. In a short time, from some crypt or
corner of the hut, he had drawn forth a huge armful
of brushwood, which, dark as was the place, he con-
trived to arrange on what he seemed by instinct to
,know was the hearth; and, in less than a minute, a
blazing fire, the first spark of which was drawn from
Essmark's pocket tinder-box, was casting a strong
light over every part of the building.
As a temporary refuge, the hut was well enough,
for it was dry and weather-proof; but, in its present
deserted condition, it was sadly wanting in every other
comfort, excepting a heap of dry moss in one corner,
which had, no doubt, at some former time, been used
as a bed. The benighted farmer, however, was by
no means particular as to accommodation, and, having
-brought in from his car a small leather sack, which
contained provisions for himself and Gustaf, he
closed the door of the hut, heaped upon the fire
several birchwood logs, of which there was a toler-
able store at hand, threw off his cap, cloak, and
eagles, and set himself seriously to work upon his
First of all, he took a long draught from a wooden


bottle with which one of his pockets was stored;


he placed before his
chopped straw; after

some hard

companion a capful of corn and

that, he

coarse cakes and

himself ate heartily of
dried fish, which he

moistened from time to time with a more gentle appli-
cation to his bottle. Last of all, seating himself on a

stout log before

the fierce fire, Essmark lighted

pipe, and was quite reconciled to the thought of pass-
ing the remainder of the night in that lonely mountain

But the adventures

of the evening were not yet


for, just as the farmer

had finished

his pipe,

and was about to throw himself on the bed of moss,
the distant report of a gun, and the faint barking of a
dog, aroused his attention, and caused even Gustaf to
prick up his ears.
In a moment Essmark was outside the hut, listening
intently for a renewal of the alarm. Some traveller

more unfortunate than myself," said he,
now be wandering on the fielde" and

no sooner presented itself than

he haste

", must even
the thought
rned back to

the hut, resumed his cap and gloves, cast
billet on the fire and sallied forth.


A less hardy or less benevolent man would perhaps

have hesitated


leaving a

warm and secure

refuge on such a
nJ ' I

night-stiff and weary, too, with

previous exposure and travel-to wander, it

be for hours, on such an errand, and

lose himself, in the hope
from danger and death.

was too




of rescuing a fellow-creature
But our Norwegian farmer

brave and generous to allow such selfish

considerations to weigh

with him ; and

in less than

a minute fro
was climbing

m the time of

the bank

his leaving the hut,

down which


he had an hour

before descended.



On reaching the higher ground of the field,
Essmark had the satisfaction of finding that the
snow had nearly ceased to fall, and that the mist
was rapidly clearing away; so that, moonless as
was the night, enough light was reflected from the
snowy surface of the field to assist him in his



THE traveller in Norway cannot expect in every stage
of his journey to take his ease at an inn, for few inns
are to be found. But the entertainment which cannot,
as in our country, be demanded as a right, will not be
refused as a favour. The Norwegians are hospitable
people, and a stranger and foreigner may confidently
hope to be received among them with a kind welcome.
Should the host, in such a case, be a small farmer,
cottager, or tradesman, he will not refuse remunera-
tion from his guest; but if he be of a higher class, or
rich in flocks and herds, he will esteem the pleasure of
a stranger's society a sufficient recompence for the
comfort and accommodation he has bestowed.
About the hour of noon, on the day which I have
described as having so rough a close, two gentlemen
stood on the margin of the bare and rocky field, some
miles from the spot where Essmark first encountered
the storm. One of them was past middle age, and
wore a garb which showed him to be a parish priest or
rector. His companion was an Englishman, travelling


for health and pleasure, who had been during the last
few days a welcome guest at the Norwegian parsonage,
and was now about to proceed on his journey towards
Christiania, the capital of Norway. A long journey it
was; but Mr. Barclay was, or believed himself to be,
an experienced traveller, and was well prepared, as ho
thought, for every trifling inconvenience he might
meet with on his way. Having been thus far accom-
panied by his kind host, whose residence in the valley
below them he had just quitted, Mr. Barclay was
attempting, in imperfect Norsk, to express his thanks
for the hospitality he had experienced.
"No thanks, no thanks to me," said the pastor,
waving his hand, "thanks to you rather for your
society. But are you sure, now, you will find your
way without a guide ?"
I have no fear," replied the traveller; one who
has crossed the Pampas of South America without a
guide, and travelled on foot and alone through almost
every country in Europe, has no need surely of such
assistance in your country, where every person one
meets seems more like an old friend than a stranger."
You do my country great honour," said Mr.
Aabel, making a low bow to the Englishman; "but at
this time of the year you will not fall in with many
folk on the field; and field travelling is not a matter
lightly thought of, let me tell you, even by a native of
the country. Even now I would have you wait here
until I send you a trusty 'and experienced guide."
But Mr. Barclay smiled at the solicitude of his
host: "cOnly think, my dear sir, what a short dis-
tance it is across this part of the fielde"
"Nearly three Norwegian miles," said the thought-
ful rector; "and more than twenty of your English


I shall get across in less than six hours," said the
You may be stopped by a storm," interposed
Pastor Aabel.
Mr. Barclay pointed to the bright sun and cloud-
less sky.
The clergyman shook his head doubtfully. It is
not always that a bright noon is followed by a calm
evening," he said; and over these wintry wastes,
there is the danger of a stranger's losing his way."
Not with a pocket compass, a map, and such good
directions as you have been so kind as to give me,"
replied the confident stranger.
And thus, after a cordial shaking of hands, and a
hearty farewell, they parted; the clergyman descending
the steep hill which overhung the small hamlet in
which he lived, while the Englishman, shouldering a
light gun, and whistling to a little spaniel, his travel-
ling companion, went on his way.
For three or four hours Mr. Barclay stepped out
steadily, and felt confident of reaching before dark the
gaard, or farm, where he hoped to be accommodated
with a night's lodging. But either the field was
broader than he had been given to understand, or he
had lost his road, for he looked in vain in all directions
for the way-marks he had expected long ere this to
find. While in this state of hesitation, and just as he
was consulting his map, the sky darkened, and, for the
first time, he noticed the threatening appearance of the
clouds. In a short time the storm began to beat upon
him furiously, and poor Dando, his dog, with piteous
whining and drooping tail, followed closely at his
heels. Still the traveller pushed on over the wild
waste, until he felt almost exhausted by his exertions,
and half perishing with cold. Then he stopped to


recover breath

but long before this the whole field

was thickly covered with snow, and he

himself was

bewildered with the heavy black mist which surrounded

Nevertheless, Mr.

Barclay was stout-hearted,

though he


began seriously to reproach



consulted his pocket
would permit, and
however, seemed his

himself for

offered assistance of a guide, he
compass as well as the darkness


walked forward.


safety ;


and after what

,_zZ~-L-~~2~ /
---~--T -;
~cnt `i

appeared to him a long night. of wandering and suffer-
ing, his strength and courage gave way, and he sank
in despair upon the snow-covered field.
"It is hard to lose life thus," he said, in a drowsy

whisper; "I will make one more attempt."
limbs were so stiffened he could not rise.

he remembered

that his gun was loaded.

it and fired; and roused by the sound, Dand
had crept to his master's side for shelter, start
ward and barked aloud.
How much longer he continued stretched

But his
Just then
He raised

[o, who
;ed for-

on his

snow bed under that cold wintry sky Mr. Barclay knew






not; for his senses were bewildered with strange
fancies of home, and bright sunny spots which years
gone by he had visited; and these scenes were rapidly
fading away from his imagination when a warm hand
was placed upon him, and he heard the welcome sound
of a human voice.
I have found you at last," exclaimed the rough,
hearty tones of Oscar Essmark; I pray God it be
not too late. Rouse yourself, stranger. Help is at
hand, and a shelter near."
It is wonderful what renewed hope can do! Mr.
Barclay, who, some time before, had found it impos-
sible to raise himself upon his feet, now sprang for-
ward, and, supported by the brave farmer, struggled
through the snow until they reached the friendly hut.
When there, the first care of Essmark was to put to
the mouth of the half-frozen and exhausted traveller
the neck of his wooden bottle, which I need hardly say
contained a liquid a few degrees stronger than water;
and his next proceeding was to strip off the stiff and
well-soaked garments of his guest, and by rapid fric-
tion to restore the languid circulation. All this passed
without a word spoken; for a painful dizziness seized
Mr. Barclay the moment he entered the hut, which
took away all his power of speech, and the good
farmer saw that prompt action at this time was worth
more than ten thousand words.
After a while, the sufferer was so far relieved as to
lie down painlessly upon the bed of moss, covered
with a gentle perspiration, which his preserver took
care should be promoted by heaping upon him his own
dry garments; while he himself, seated by the fire,
which from time to time he replenished with fresh fuel,
relighted his pipe, and sat patiently watching over
the rescued stranger. In a short time Mr. Barclay


was in a sound sleep,

and Dando

followed his master's

example, by
feet of the


up before the j
As to Gustaf,

fire between the

he had,


prudent animal as he

was, shut his eyes as soon as his

hi It Ij ________l

supper was ended;
the hut were those

so that the only wakeful eyes
of Oscar Essmark. Indeed, it v


not long before he was sleeping contentedly on the
hard but dry floor, by Dando's side; and no further

alarm disturbed

the farmer's repose through the re-

mainder of that eventful night.

_ _




How great the difference between mountain and glen!
While snow lay deep on the field, and travellers across
it were wrapped in warm winter clothing, the valley,
which lay hundreds of feet below, was hot beneath the
bright sun, verdant with the fresh-sprung grass, and
busy with industry. To pass from hill to dale in those
northern regions, is to take a short step from cold to
heat, from winter to summer, from desolation to cheer-
On the bank of a broad clear stream which, rising
in the mountains, had made for itself, centuries ago, a
glorious waterfall into the valley, and then tranquilly
flowed on for many a mile through fruitful fields, until
it emptied itself in one of the deep and winding bays,
or fiords, for which the rocky coast of Norway is so
remarkable-on the bank of one of those clear rivers,
called in Norway an Elv, is Jutgaard, the house of
Oscar Essmark.
It is a long two-storey dwelling, built of thick and
roughly-squared trunks of Norway pine, made weather-
tight and warm by layers of mountain moss between
them, and painted a dull red, which might look gloomy,
but for the blue slated overhanging roof, and gaily
decorated windows, which Madame Essmark takes
care shall never be disfigured with crack or stain.
Around the house are numerous buildings, strong
and spacious; for as the wood is on the farm, and any
man can do the work, the number of houses on one
steading is wonderful. There is a distinct edifice for


everything, so as in case of fire not to have all under
one roof. The family dwelling-house just mentioned,
consists of three rooms below, one of which is the
kitchen, and the same number above; and at the end,
with a separate entry, there is a better room, and one
above it, reserved for strangers. Opposite to this
dwelling is another, with rooms above, and kitchen
below, for the farm servants and labourers. At a
small distance from the family house, raised upon
posts to exclude rats, is the store-room and dairy,
where the provisions for the year are lodged. It is
large and airy, with windows, and two rooms for
different objects. The rest of the square, into which
the buildings are arranged for the convenience of
winter attendance upon cattle, consists of stables,
cow-houses, barns for hay and corn; under which are
the sheds for tools, carts, sledges, a cellar underground
for ale, and one of large size with double doors, like
our ice-houses, for preserving the potatoes. Every-
thing is under cover, and the spaciousness of the
buildings surprises the stranger. But the Norwegians
are a well-lodged people; and Oscar Essmark's farm
is not in this respect distinguishable from those of his
Around this group of buildings, and stretching
between them and the river, is a broad meadow,
smooth and neat as an English nobleman's lawn, and
at the time our story begins, the early spring crop had
shaded it with a bright and dazzling green. On one
side of this meadow, reaching from the river-side
to the foot of the mountain, are cultivated fields,
which, at that same time, were undergoing the neces-
sary processes of ploughing, sowing, or planting, ac-
cording to the nature of the crop intended to be
raised. On the other side, still bounded by the river,


is a long stretch of pasture land, on which were then
to be seen a full score of cows, and a large flock of
sheep. Beyond this pasture land, and high up on the
mountain side, is a dark forest of firs, birch, and elm,
through which winds the road to the field. Still
higher can be seen, as though reaching to the clouds-
at a vast height at least, above the secluded and fruit-
ful valley the bare and overhanging mountain
cliffs, up the sides of which, along narrow and un-
protected shelves of but a few feet in width, the same
road is to be dimly distinguished. And fearful does it
seem to the unaccustomed eye of a stranger, when, in
one of the low cars of his country, drawn by a horse,.
which at that distance from the valley looks no larger
than a mastiff, a Norwegian traveller is seen dashing
down those shelving roads, at full speed, when. one
false step must be destruction. But the native of the
country has no fear of such danger as this.
No such fear had Oscar Essmark, as late in the
day succeeding his night adventures, he guided Gustaf,
with an unerring and bold hand, along that hazardous
".Father is coming-coming at last!" shouted
little Eva from the garden house-(behind the nume-
rous buildings of Jutgaard is a garden for flowers,
fruits, and vegetables, in which is a garden house,
much used in summer for tea-drinking; and because
the best view of the field road was to be had
from the open windows of this garden house, there
had Eva and her brother Oscar taken their station,
almost from the earliest dawn)-" Father is coming
--coming at last," said she, running to her mother,
who had wondered what could have so delayed the
time of her husband's expected return. I know it
is father, because of Gustaf; but I cannot think


what besides he has got in
look again."
But when, accompanied
little girl again reached the
hidden by a projecting roc
group wait for its reappear

the exclamation

is of Eva



I must go and

by Madame Essmark, the
garden house, the car was

Eagerly did

the little

rance; and very loud were
when it was again seen.

" There it is-there is Gustaf-and



my father! Mother, who can it be driving the car ?
It is not half fast enough for him."


Quite fast enough, however, would the speed of the
y at that time have seemed to an English child,

had an English child been there.


It was a slow pai

But Eva was right,
ce for Gustaf, and

Gustaf's master, both

of whom



a true

Norwegian gallop down the dangerous pass.

" It is not your father

in the car," said


Esssmark, turning pale; some mischief has happened,
I fear."
At this moment young Oscar, who had been
watching the car with a steady gaze without appearing
to heed the conversation of his mother and sister,
turned round, and looking into his mother's face held
up two fingers, pointed to the car, and smiled.

So it is-so it is !" shouted
her brother's gesture and sign.

has g


Eva, who had


" Oscar, dear Oscar,

eyes, mother; there are two in the car;

is standing up behind,

over the stranger's

head ;

and holding


the reins

why he comes so

By th
little par

Who can the stranger be, I wonder !"


time the car was again

of watchers;

appeared to sight, it
had a double load.


from the

and when once .more it

could easily be seen that Gustaf

"I must hasten to the house, Eva," said Madame


Essmark, and get ready the stranger's room. And,
Eva, run and find Gummel, and tell him that our
supper will be better for a dish of trout from the
Young Oscar was now left by himself, and he con-
tinued watching the car until it was lost in the forest.
Then he departed also, and the garden house was,
for the remainder of that day, as deserted as a seater-
hut in December.
In a few minutes, however, the quick eyes of the
boy caught sight of Gummel, the houseman, crossing
the meadow, armed with a fishing-rod and basket.
Uttering a wild cry, which would at once have revealed
to an observant stranger that poor Oscar had neither
speech nor hearing, he ran into the house, and speedily
reappeared with another rod. In five minutes more
the man and boy were silently floating on the stream
in a small boat, busily engaged in angling.
As my readers will have guessed, Mr. Barclay was
the stranger for whom Madame Essmark was preparing
the guest-chamber, and for whose supper Gummel and
young Oscar were disturbing the river; for the hos-
pitable farmer had declared, at dawn of day, that he
would not leave the Englishman exposed to further
danger on the field, and plainly convinced him that
if he wished to get to Christiana he could not take a
nearer road than that which passed by Jutgaard. And,
in truth, Mr. Barclay was not sorry to be told this;
his long exposure to the cold and storm had left him
weak and spiritless, and nothing could at that time be
more welcome to him than the hope of a better resting-
place than that of the past night before renewing his
journey. So, riding by turns in the car, and making
many a wide circuit to avoid the deeper drifts of snow
-which accounted for their late arrival-the travellers


at length reached the edge of the field, caught sight
of the smiling valley beneath, and then arranged
themselves for the last stage of their journey in the
way that had attracted Eva's notice and wonder.
I shall pass over the meeting of the kind farmer
with his wife and daughter, and afterwards with his
poor mute boy, who soon came in with a basket of
trout; and I shall not .attempt to describe the cour-
teous welcome given to the stranger, and even to
Dando, by the whole family at Jutgaard. I need say
nothing of the supper which followed, except that full
justice was done to the various dishes placed upon the
table by Madame Essmark. Nor need I say that the
English traveller was glad to retire to his neat and
comfortable bedchamber, where, under an eider-down
quilt, of surpassing warmth and lightness, we will
leave him to hisrepose.
It was an hour or two after this that the light was
extinguished in the family dwelling, for, tired as
Essmark was, he had been absent many days from
Jutgaard, and had much to tell his wife now that they
were alone. In course of time, however, they retired
to rest, and all was silent in and around the farm
through the remainder of the night.





ON the following morning, Mr. Barclay was roused
from his slumbers by a hard pelting rain against his
chamber window, and starting from his comfortable
couch, he looked out upon the prospect. Very
different was its appearance from that which it had
presented on the previous day. The river had over-
flowed its banks; the meadow, so bright and gay in
the sunshine, now looked dreary and sodden. The
distant view of the valley beyond the river was hidden
in sheets of mist and descending rain, and the sky
overhead was dark and threatening. It was evident
that the storm which had fallen upon the high field
was now visiting the valley; and it was plain, also, to
the traveller, that proceeding further on his journey
was at present out of the question.
Mr. Barclay had the happy art of adapting himself
to circumstances, and, well satisfied with his present
quarters, he thought as little as might be of his dis-
appointment, and hastened, in the best possible
humour, to dress himself.
On making his appearance in the family room, he
was greeted by the hearty tones of his host, and by
pleasant smiles from the farmer's wife.
You cannot leave us to-day, sir, that is certain,"
said Essmark; "'to-day, at least, my house must be
your prison."
And a very comfortable prison, too," replied the
traveller, shaking hands with the farmer, and then


with the rest of the family, and wishing a good
morning to each, at which Eva, when it came. to her
turn, smiled, for, in his ignorance of the language, Mr.
Barclay made use of words that plainly said--"A
beautiful fine morning this, Miss Eva," which certainly
was very far from being correct. Mr. Barclay laughed
too, when he saw his mistake, and begged the young
lady to teach him better Norsk. From that time they
became quite friendly and familiar.
Yes, a very comfortable prison it was, that family
room. A large fire was burning in the stove; the
floor had been swept clean, and was fresh and thickly
strewn with the green tops of firs, which in Norway
are gathered by poor people and sold for this purpose,
and which fill the rooms with a pleasant perfume, as
well as serve a useful purpose, and have a very pretty
effect; and the breakfast table, loaded with good
things in the way of reindeer flesh, dried fish, fresh
fish (the remaining part of last night's sport), hot
oaten cakes, cheese, delicious butter, an abundant
supply of new milk and thick yellow cream, with
coffee and' tea. This breakfast table gave good
promise to the traveller that hard fare was not to be
added to his enforced confinement.
There was not much ceremony observed at this
meal; each one helped himself, and ate and drank
standing or walking about the room-for-such is the
Norway custom; and when all had finished, the table
was cleared, and all proceeded to their various em-
ployments. Essmark went to his stables and barns,
to look after his men and stock; and the farmer's wife
and her two maid-servants to their house work and
dairy work, so that presently only the traveller, Eva,
and Oscar remained.
A dull, pompous, or stupid man would have been


at a loss how to act in a case like this; but dull, pom-
pous, and stupid men have no business to be travellers.
As for Mr. Barclay, he lost no time in improving his
acquaintance with Eva, who had taken up some needle-
work, and her deaf and dumb brother, whose atten-

tion was occupied

by a new book,

with fine wood-

engravings, which his father had brought for him from

So, young lady," he said, and of course
it in the best Norsk he could muster, though

take the liberty of recording

the conversation

he said
I shall
in fair

English-" So, young lady, am I to look upon you as
a fellow-prisoner, or are you my jailor ? "
Oh, not a prisoner," replied Eva, and you are

not a prisoner.
the field ?"

Would you not

like, now, to be on

Thank you, Eva; I
here. Though if it had


I am much better off

not been for your father, the

field would have been my last bed."
"People shouldn't travel on the field
guide," said Eva, smiling.
But your father did, my little friend."

"Ah, that is a different thing.

all about the field, so it did not matter.

without a

y father knows
And Gustaf,

too; oh, Gustaf is a clever pony."
"But for all that," replied Mr. Barclay, neither
your father's knowledge nor Gustaf's cleverness could



on the right road.

"Yes, yes," said Eva,
how to find it again."

They lost

archly ;


" Yes, and to find something else too.

terrible night to me, I can tell you.

their way

they -knew

It was a

I am told that

many people have lost their way and their lives too,
on the fielde"




Yes, in winter," replied Eva. There were two
poor travellers from Sweden, only a little while ago,
Zould go from here to Drontheim, and they would go
without a guide. Oh, sir,"-and Eva's eyes filled
with tears-"-it was dreadful to think! They wan-
dered and wandered nobody knows how many days,
and at last they were found starved and frozen, and
the horrid wolves had torn and mangled them. I saw
them when they were brought back, for they were
laid in father's barn before they were buried. Oh, it
was a shocking sight and Eva shuddered, covering
her eyes with her hands, as if to shut out the scene.
"It was very wrong-it was really, sir. You must
not think of crossing the field again alone till summer
comes, without knowing the road."
I certainly will not, Eva. They say in my
country that experience makes fools wise !-but you
speak of wolves: I have seen no wolves in Norway
yet. Do they ever trouble you here ? "
"Not very often," Eva answered; "they are such
sly things, and such cowards: they don't like to come
near where there are men, unless they are very hungry
indeed. But, for all that, they are very dangerous,
especially in winter, when cold and hunger makes them
savage. Two years ago, in one very hard frost, many
wolves came down from the field; and one night
they broke into the barn where the poor sheep were,
and killed so many of them; and then there was a grand
wolf hunt, and most of them were killed. Wolves'
skins make nice rugs, and cloaks, and pelisses, so that
helped to pay for the mischief they had done."
Very true," said Mr. Barclay, quite pleased that
his young companion was so communicative; "and
when these rough-coated gentlemen cannot get mutton
to eat, what do they do ? "


Oh, there are plenty of wild deer on the fielde-
rein-deer you know. They are very fond of dogs,
too: there was once a man travelling in a sledge-it
was winter then-and he had a little dog between his
legs, and would you think it, sir, a great wolf came
suddenly upon them, jumped into the sledge, and
carried off the poor dog before the man could do any-
thing. And I have heard of a boy who was riding on
a horse, with a little puppy before him on the saddle,

and a wolf sprang up and
without hurting the boy."

" That

was fortunate,



off the puppy

Replied Mr.

Barclay. Very impudent rogues these wolves must
be. Your king should do as one of the kings of my
country did many hundreds of years ago."
What was that, sir ? Eva asked.
He made his subjects bring him so many wolves'
heads every year, until it is said the country was clear
of them."
Our king could not do that," said Eva, drawing
herself up proudly; "Norway is a free country, and
the king cannot command anything unless it pleases
our Storthing."
SAnd what is that ? Mr. Barclay inquired.
Don't you know, sir ?" retorted Eva, wonder-
ingly. It is the great meeting of-of our people-
that is, not all our people, you know, sir, but a certain
number of them, which are chosen by the rest. They
meet at Christiania, and make good laws, and the
king-that is, the King of Sweden and NorWay-
cannot do anything without the Storthing."
"I see," said Mr. Barclay, amused with this des-

cription. "We have
we call a Parliament."

a Storthing in England, which

"I have heard of England," said

" Our old



Norway sea-kings went to
country to live in, sir ? "





think s

Is it a pleasant

o," replied


there any beautiful

fiords-any rivers-any

high mountains and pleasant valleys, like ours ?
Mr. Barclay readily explained to his young ques-
tioner all that she asked, and much that she had not
asked, about England. When he had done, she said,
"I should not like England so well as my country."
"I dare say not, Eva," he replied. We all like

best the country which we call our own.
Norway a fine, grand country, with its


Now I think
mountains and

and fiord, and valleys-a beautiful valley this is,

in which you live, though

it would



beautiful in the sunshine than now."

" It does not always rain," said

Eva, very quickly.

"I dare say not; well, I like Norway very much
indeed; and I like you kind, warm-hearted, friendly

Norwegians still better; but I

like England better

than Norway, because it


and my friends
winters, Eva, wl

is my home.

live there.

iat have



I was born
your long,
say about

them ? "

C: Oh, winter is a very pleasant time, I can tell you,
sir. We have such pleasant parties in winter, and go

and visit our friends.



is sledging-oh,

that is beautiful!-and snow-skating, and skating on
the ice."

"'To be

do you skate, Eva ?"
sure, sir: but you should see Oscar-

poor, dear Oscar. He is twc
but he skates so well, though
old. Poor Oscar!"

years younger than I;
he is only twelve years

"You are very fond

" Are


of Oscar,

I s e el"

said Mr


Barclay, speaking kindly and tenderly. "His is a
great affliction, but he seems happy."
All this time Oscar had been busy with his new
book, and had not paid the slightest attention to his
sister or his father's guest; but just at this moment
he looked up, and seeing his sister's eyes, moist with
tears, fixed upon him, he sprang from his seat, and
smiling, clasped her in his arms, and kissed her fore-
head. Mr. Barclay now looked at the deaf and dumb
boy more closely than he had ventured before to do;
and could but admire his fine, open, intelligent face,
sparkling eyes, and, more than all, his affectionate
Dear Oscar!" said Eva, taking her brother by
the hand, and drawing him beside her. "We can
talk about him, if you like, sir: he won't hear, you
know; and I like to talk about him: he is so good
and he does not mind being talked about. He knows'
we can't say mischief of him."
"I am glad you love your poor brother."
"Love him! Oh, yes. But do you know," and
here Eva dropped her voice mysteriously-" Do you
know what old Haco says of him ? "
No, indeed, I do not. Who is old Haco ? "
Oh, you don't know old Haco-to be sure not.
How silly of me! Well, old Haco lives down the
valley. He was my father's herdsman; but he is not
now. He is too old. He says he is nearly a hundred
years old. Only think! Do people live so long as
that in your country ? "
"Not often, Eva, I confess."
"I thought so. Ah! Norway is the place for
folks to grow old in. Old Haco says so."
"And he says about Oscar "
"Yes, yes, that is what I was just going to tell


you," replied the young lady, again sinking her voice.
" Haco says that poor Oscar is certainly bewitched."
"Ah! because he cannot hear and speak, I sup-
pose ?"
"Yes, sir, and he says it was all because one day,
before poor Oscar was born, a Fin woman came to sell
mittens and snow-boots, and Snorna our dairymaid
laughed at her, and turned her away from the door
with unkind words. It was very wrong of Snorna,
and so father told her; and Haco said he was sure
some misfortune would happen. And so when poor
Oscar's affliction was known, he laid it all to Snorna
and the Fin."
Mr. Barclay knew that the Lapland people, whose
country is north of Norway and Sweden, and who lead
a kind of gipsy life, are called Fins by the Norwegians,
and that they are generally looked upon with contempt,
while, at the same time, they are feared for their sup-
posed powers of witchcraft; and he was desirous of
learning what more Eva would say on this subject. So
he asked,
"But how could this Fin have had anything to do
with poor Oscar's affliction ?"
I cannot tell you, sir, and truly I do not believe a
word of it. Father says it is all folly, and so does my
mother; and our minister preaches a good deal about
these superstitions, as he calls them; so I only tell you
what old Haco says. And he will have it that the Fin
witches can do almost anything in the way of mischief
that they please, for they have spirits underground who
must obey them for a time. He says he will never
believe that the field is not haunted with these spirits;
and that the witches go to meet them, and the moun-
tain opens, and all go together into the midst of it, miles
below the mountain top; and that that is their country.


He says they have churches there like our churches
here, but they do not worship God as we do, but some-
thing else, very wicked. Ah, you would like to hear
Haco talk about these things, though, to be sure, they
are very foolish."
Very foolish, indeed, Eva! I am glad you do not
believe such nonsense, although you do like to listen
to it. There are young ladies in England who are a
little like you in this particular. Well, and so old
Haco thinks that your dear brother is bewitched, does
he ?"
"Yes; and because Oscar is so clever, and can
draw and carve so beautifully-ah, you must see Oscar's
drawings and carvings; I will ask him to show them
to you this afternoon-and because he can read, that
is can understand reading, you know, sir, and because,
indeed, everything Oscar does he does so well, he says
the mountain spirit must be at his elbow always. It is
very silly, sir, is it not ?"
I think it is, Eva. Pray how is it you can listen
to it ?"
Oh, Haco is a great favourite with us, and he says
what he pleases; nobody cares about it, and nobody
believes it-that is," continued Eva, correcting herself,
" my father and mother laugh at it all, and I do not
believe it. Gummel does, though, and so do a good
many more. But it does no harm to Oscar, you know,
and so we don't mind."
And Oscar can read ?" said Mr. Barclay; cc that
must be a very great pleasure and advantage to him.
How did he learn ?"
"We have a teacher, sir, every winter, to live with
us, and he takes great pains with poor Oscar."
I should not wonder, then, if you also can read ?"
said Mr. Barclay.


It would be a wonder and a shame if I could not,
sir," replied Eva, in a rather mortified tone. I am
not a Fin; they cannot read, I believe, not many of
them, though some can. But I think there are not
many boys and girls in Norway who don't know how
to read. Would you like to see our books, sir ?"
"Very much indeed I should," said Mr. Barclay,
who began greatly to respect his young friend, as well
as to be pleased with her conversation: "very much
indeed; and I must beg you to forgive me for under-
rating your acquirements. I cannot say for my young
country folks so much as you can for yours."
Eva made no reply to this compliment, but led the
visitor to a large cupboard, made of some dark wood,
very richly carved, with a date upon it which proved it
to be more than a hundred years old. Before Eva could
open the door, Mr. Barclay stayed her hand to admire
the carved work.
Oscar can carve better than that," said Eva, with
sisterly pride; "though everybody says that is nicely
It is indeed," said the traveller. I have been
told that your country-folks are very expert at carving."
That is one of our winter employments" replied
Eva; my father's grandfather carved that cupboard.
Shall I show you our books now ?"
"By all means," said Mr. Barclay; and Eva opened
the folding-doors of the cupboard.
Mr. Barclay was surprised to see in a farmer's house
in Norway, a far greater number of books than can
generally be found in a farmer's house in England;
and he was talking to Eva about the subjects which
these books contained, when the door opened, and pre-
parations were made for dinner.
In a short time the kind host entered, and then the


dinner was brought in. Mr. Barclay was surprised to
find how rapidly the time had passed away, and he
informed Mr. Essmark, with great truth, that he had
spent a very pleasant morning, and did not at all regret
the bad weather which had detained him at Jutgaard.
I shall not particularly describe the dinner, which
was sufficiently good to satisfy a much more dainty
appetite than that of Mr. Barclay. To it all the family
sat down, and when the meal was over, and all rose
from the table, the first thing done by each person was
to go round to all the rest, shaking hands with each,
and saying aloud, "Tak for mad," or, "Wel bekomme,"
which Mr. Barclay understood to mean, "CThanks for
the meal," and, May it do you good."
"It would not be amiss," thought the Englishman,
"if some of my young friends at home were to practise
this ceremony sometimes."
After dinner Essmark lighted his pipe, and sat
talking with his guest. Meanwhile Eva made signs to
Oscar, who left the room, and presently returned with
specimens of his drawings and carved work. And great
was the astonishment and gratification which they pro-
duced. I shall have something else to say of Oscar's
carving in another chapter.




FOR three days the rain continued to fall in the valley,
and Mr. Barclay remained at Jutgaard. Nor was he
very impatient to be gone; for with the lively Eva for
a companion, with Eva's parents for his host and
'hostess, and with a warm and dry roof over his head,
he continued to pass the time not only agreeably but
profitably. Oscar, too, who from the first had excited
the traveller's sympathy, soon won his admiration, for
Eva had not overrated her brother's accomplishments
when she said that everything he attempted to do he
did well. He was so affectionate, too, and so docile;
who could help feeling an interest in him ?
At length, however, the weather cleared, and Mr.
Barclay spoke of continuing his journey. It was a
,glorious morning. The sun had risen unclouded; the
valley looked green and bright; and towards mid-day
Mr. Barclay, having engaged a guide to the next
station, was on the point of bidding farewell to Jut-
gaard, when an unexpected arrival once more detained
Mr. Aabel-Mr. Aabel is here !" said Eva, as,
catching sight of the clergyman from the window, she
started to her feet and ran from the room. The next
minute she came back, holding him by the hand.
Mr. Aabel was not the minister of the parish in
which Jutgaard is to be found; he was, nevertheless,
a favourite visitor, and the whole family at Essmark's
joined in giving him a hearty welcome. While, there-


fore, Gummel was unharnessing the reeking horse
which had brought the clergyman quickly and safely
over the fielde-for by this time the road was again
passable, Essmark was urging this new guest to throw
aside his superfluous clothing, and sharpen his appetite
for the dinner, which would soon make its appearance,
by a draught of stout ale, or a glass of the strong
home-made spirits which every Norwegian farmer
knows how to extract from potatoes.
During the first bustle of this unlooked-for arrival,
Mr. Barclay had politely withdrawn from observation.
He now came forward, and expressed his pleasure in
once more meeting his former host.
And most delighted am I, sir," said the clergy-
man, heartily shaking hands with the Englishman,
'c to find you here in such good quarters. You must
know, sir, that there were grave apprehensions at the
parsonage about your fate, and, in truth, it was partly
to satisfy myself of your escape from the storm of
that evening that I came over the field to-day."
c"I was wrong to slight your advice, dear sir,"
replied Mr. Barclay; and I am concerned at having
given you cause for anxiety; for truly, had it not been
for our kind friend here, it would have gone hard with
me; but I have promised my good Eva to take more
care for the future." Mr. Barclay then, in a few
words, told the clergyman how he had been preserved
from the danger to which he was exposed.
It was like Oscar Essmark," said Mr. Aabel, to
do as he did: Indeed, shame would it have been for
any Norwegian to have done otherwise. But I see,
sir, you are equipped for travelling, and have prepared
yourself with a guide; may I ask if you are still
bound for Christiania ?"
Mr. Barclay answered in the affirmative.


In. that case," said. Mr. Aabel, "we may be
fellow-travellers on the first stage of the journey, if'
you will place yourself under'my care. I am about to
proceed, not till after dinner, though, up the valley,
on a visit to a brother minister. The distance is about
a mile-that is a Norwegian mile. I shall travel on
foot, and can assure you of a hearty welcome, a night's
lodging, and a good guide for to-morrow's journey."
As this plan did not greatly cross Mr. Barclay's
purposes, he speedily gave his consent to it, and dis-
missing his Jutgaard guide with a gift, he once more
deferred his journey for an hour or two.
At length the time came, and taking leave of his
kind entertainers, who refused, all remuneration from
their guest, Mr. Barclay and the clergyman departed
from Jutgaard, with Eva and Oscar, who, mounted on
ponies, of which Gustaf was one, proposed to accom-
pany them to the next village.
The road for some distance followed the winding
of the river, and under the precipitous sides of the
mountain, which, at some places, left barely space
enough on the river's bank for a narrow path. At
other places.the space again widened, as at Jutgaard,
leaving room for houses and fields. In some spots,
where the mountain cliffs were particularly steep, large
blocks of stone, loosened, as- Mr. Aabel informed the
traveller, by the wintry frost, had rolled down into the
valley, and thickly strewed the ground. These stones
were of great size; and as Mr. Barclay cast his eye
upwards to the rocks which almost overhung the road,
he felt very far from secure against an accident which,
had it happened, would at once have finished his.
At one spot, the party passed by a hugh mass of:
snow yet unmelted, which Mr. Aabel said was the


remains of an avalanche which had fallen a few weeks
earlier from the mountain-side, and beneath which
were buried a herd of wild reindeer, that at the time
were feeding on the scanty herbage of the valley, into

i., _._~~S~___u ._ ~~_- i l


___ I -

i .......n


which they had retreated from the frost and snow of
the field. And another spot was pointed out to the
traveller where, a few years before, a farmhouse had
been overwhelmed by a similar catastrophe.
All these matters were full of interest to the

i~Filw -''* v.


/ /ka~3~,~


Englishman, who almost regretted the approach of his
party to a rustic bridge, which enabled them to cross
to the broader stretch of valley beyond the river, and
the village where he was to part company with his
young friends.
For some little distance on the road the tall spire
of the village church had been visible, the building
itself being concealed by a thick grove of trees by
which it was surrounded. But a turn of the road,
after crossing the bridge, placed the party in front of
the venerable edifice; and Mr. Barclay suddenly stood
still to examine and admire the building, while his
elderly companion spake of its history.
I am ashamed to say that the words were almost
lost upon the English traveller, who could never after-
wards call to mind, with any exactness, how many
hundreds of years the church had been built; by whom
it was built, nor whether or not any of the old kings
of Norway were either crowned or buried within its
venerable walls. All he remembered of Mr. Aabel's
information was, that it was the parish church of the
clergyman' at whose house they expected to receive
accommodation for the night, and that the parish, as
well as the church, was very large.
But though the ears of the traveller were negligent,
his eyes were not idle: and as he looked at that
singular 'church, where spire rose above spire, and root
above roof, like a little town, and which was composed,
as far as could be seen, entirely of massive timbers,
slabs, and shingles, from the ground upwards, his
admiration found words too.
Eva," said he, "if I were sure of ever visiting
Jutgaard again, I would beg a boon of Oscar."
Hitterdal Church. We are indebted to Forester's Norway, for'
the representation of this singular structure,


"And Oscar would grant it as soon as asked, I am
sure," replied the Norwegian girl. "What would
you have of Oscar? ". she added, smiling.
"I would ask him to carve for me, in his best
style, a model of this church, to take home to my
Eva shook her head gaily: I have promised too
much," said she; "Oscar could never do that, I fear:
but shall you come again ? "
It is not likely, Eva; and I did but jest about
the model. But should I never see Jutgaard again, I
shall never forget that my life was saved by its owner.
You must come and see me in England, Eva," Mr.
Barclay added, playfully.
But Eva shook her head very decidedly: I love
Norway too well," she said; "I will never forsake old
You will at least not refuse a parting keepsake,"
said Mr. Barclay, "from an unfortunate traveller who
has no better home than old England; and, having
settled this matter to his satisfaction, the party sepa-
rated, and as the elder travellers turned from the
church, they heard the last sound of the hoofs of
Gustaf and his companion on the wooden bridge.
"There will be sad hearts at Jutgaard ere long,
said Mr. Aabel, with deep sigh;" and indeed, though
my friend Essmark bears up manfully, there are sad
hearts there now, I fear, though at present these
young folks are ignorant of the distress which hangs
over their heads."
"You surprise and grieve me," replied Mr.
Barclay. I should not have judged, from the cheerful
manners and conversation of the farmer and his wife,
that care presses heavily upon them."
"And yet it does. My friend Essmark has sus-



so heavy

a loss by the misfortunes of a

relative, a merchant at Drontheim, that ere long he
will be obliged to sell his farm, which has been in his
family hundreds of years, and take refuge in a cottage.
In short, in less than a year, Jutgaard will belong to
a stranger. It was this sad business which took

Essmark across the fields to Drontheim, and


which journey he was returning when he fell in with
you,) -
And saved my life! exclaimed the Englishman.
" Can you tell me, sir, the amount of his loss ? "
SMore than a thousand dollars, I fear."
"Less than two hundred pounds of English money,"
said Mr. Barclay to himself. Is that all? he added
"In Norway, a thousand dollars is a large sum,"
replied the rector : we are a poor people, sir, though
perhaps none the less happy for that."
"Let us return to Jutgaard/' said Mr. Barclay,
suddenly stopping short.
"To what purpose, sir ? Mr. Aabel asked.

" Can you ask, sir?

The man who has saved my

life must .not be ruined for the want of a thousand


It suits my inclination to travel on foot;

in England my neighbours are pleased to call me a
rich man; and I trust, sir, that I know something of
that blessed book which teaches us, in good plain
English as well as in Norsk, that we are all brethren,
and that to see a brother have need without doing all
we can to help him proves that we don't love

" I rejoice

c and

to hear you

should be sorry

say so," replied
indeed to check

the rector,
your kind

feelings; nevertheless, we must not return to Jutgaard
on such an errand. My friend Essmark would be




angry with me, I fear, for troubling you with his
troubles, and you would find it impossible to prevail
on him to accept your kindly meant help."
"You are right sir; it would be indelicate;-let us
speak of something else."


SNow is on the ground, the river is frozen over, and
the store-rooms at Jutgaard are filled with winter
provisions. Six months and more have passed since
the English traveller bade good-bye to the Norwegian
farmer and his family.
Cold, cold, very cold, had been the short day,
which at mid-winter, and in that northern district of
Norway, receives but three or four hours of sunlight
out of the twenty-four which make up day and night.
But the nights-oh, the long nights are glorious; and
on the evening of that one day in particular, where
we take up the thread of our story, the sky was so
clear, the air so still, the moon and stars so bright,
and the aurora borealis, or mysterious northern lights,
so brilliant, that the night seemed almost lighter than
the day, and the snow-covered surface of the country
glistened and glittered so sparklingly all around, that
one might almost have fancied it to be strewed with
thousands of diamonds.
The sun had long disappeared below the horizon,
but the family at Jutgaard showed no signs of drowsi-
ness. Around the glowing stove were seated Madame
Essmark, Eva, and their maid, spinning the wool
which was soon to be wrought into substantial cloth
for household use, while their cheerful labours were


lightened by conversation or song. Near them sat
Essmark, smoking, and reading the paper which had
that day arrived by a post messenger from Drontheim.
At another part of the room was Oscar, and on the
table before him stood what had once been a cubic
block of wood, twelve inches or more in thickness,
but which, by this time, under his carving tools, and
the combined influences of ingenuity and patience,

had assumed the rough outlines of the parish church,
and began to exhibit in various parts the delicate
touches of Oscar's skilful hand. Beside the carver
were many drawings of the object, taken from different
points of view, with tables of dimensions and calcula-
tions of proportionate heights, lengths, and breadths.
Another person had, a short time before, been
present. This was Gummel, whose employment, what-
ever it had been, was now laid aside, and who for that
night had left the warm family room.
Instead, however, of retiring at once to his own
quarters, which formed a part of the homestead of
Jutgaard, Gummel was tempted by the beauty of the
night to extend his walk. So, wrapping around him
his thick pelisse of sheepskin, he stepped out briskly
for half a mile, stopped at the door of a small cottage


near the river-side, lifted the latch, and entered. It
was the cottage of old Haco, the former herdsman of
Jutgaard; and, passing over the mutual courtesies
which, at Gummel's entrance, were exchanged, and
which all Norwegians, of whatever rank, scrupulously
observe in their intercourse with each other-passing
over these, we will listen to a scrap or two of their
after conversation, at which were present, besides
themselves, Harold, old Haco's great-grandson, a boy
a year or two older than young Oscar Essmark, and
Harold's mother.
Haco, wrapped in warm rugs, sat by the blazing
hearth in an arm-chair more aged than himself. His
sight was quite gone, his hair was thin and white, his
hands shook with palsy, and his voice was weak as
that of a child. The very picture and emblem of
extreme age was Iaco.
SI always said it was so," said Haco, in a feeble
tone; "I knew from the first that the boy was--;
well, well, no matter. And so this stranger-he is
coming again, is he !
"Yes, Haco ; so they tell me; and right welcome
will he be, I guess."
No doubt, no doubt. And so Essmark was near
losing Jutgaard, was he ?"
"Ay, Haco, he was. Yes, yes, it was set up for
sale, when, just at the time, comes pastor Aabel driving
over the field; and though I did not see and hear it
all, I was told of it by those that did. 'Essmark,' says
Mr. Aabel, here is something that will set your mind
at rest; and with that he puts a great roll of bank-
paper into his hand.' What is this ?' said my master,
in great wonder; and then the rector tells him that
the Englishman he picked up on the field had sent a
thousand dollars as a trifling present, as he called it,


to his friends at Jutgaard. Says my master, (:
take it; it shall not be said that an Essmark

kindness in that fashion.'

I'll never
sold his

' But,' says Mr. Aabel, 'you


for the

money again;'
to mind; but

Englishman will never look upon the
and much more passed than I can call
the end of it was, that our master took

the money, and soon paid off the debt; and so the sale
of Jutgaard was put at an end."
Old Haco shook his head sorrowfully. It is a sad


said he.

" Essmark

had better have lost

all than have taken such a gift."
May be so," replied Gummel,

" though Mr. Aabel

did not think so; and.he ought to know.

But now,

good Haco, you have been a long while in the world,
and know as much as any man about such matters.
Who, think you, is this stranger ?"
Who can tell?" replied Haco, mysteriously.
" But who should he be but the Eldman of the fielde'
Ha many a time has he led poor travellers astray on
the field that have never been seen again. Often has
he appeared, as he did to Essmark, in the form of
a perishing man, in a storm of his own raising, and
received help, and given gifts; but his gifts never

"But," said Gi


"he was a proper sort

man, too; and if it was not for this church-- "


!" said
it all, if

Haco, quickly, "it is easy
one has but the right faith.

Oscar-I have nothing to say against the boy;
it not plain that he has always been under a s





but is

p ell-a

knew ?

charm ?

Is he like an

And who evef- heard

Ly other boy you ever
of such a thing as a

church being cut out of wood in

this fashion ?

let young Oscar finish it, and let the stranger get it
into his power, and such things will be seen as are little



dreamt of. Oh, the temptations of the evil one! But
there is One above all, stronger than he!"
Much more did old Haco say in this mysterious
fashion, by which his fearful listeners were led to
believe that on the completion of Oscar's masterpiece,
and on its presentation to the stranger, at whose
request it had been undertaken, and whose second
visit to Jutgaard was looked for in the coming summer,
the destruction of poor young Oscar, body and spirit,
would be completed, and Jutgaard itself would become
a heap of ruins. Had the gift been anything else
besides a church, argued Haco, he would not have been
so sure; but to him it was evident that Oscar's skill in
carving was more than mortal, and that, in fact, the
poor boy had been gifted with this power by the
Eldman of the field, to serve his own unhallowed
purposes. All this was very ridiculous, and my young
readers are quite at liberty to laugh at it, but super-
stitions such as this are common among the ignorant
of every country-especially mountainous countries-
and I can assure them I have heard, in England, many
legends equally foolish and superstitious with this of
old Haco's, and have known also of their being firmly
Haco's hearers had no doubt whatever of the cor-
rectness of his predictions; Harold and his mother
sat eagerly listening to his long stories of churches
underground to which this model of poor Oscar's
was hereafter to be added--where evil spirits are
worshipped, and where witches congregate; and
Gummel departed to his own home, sad at the
thought of the mischief which was hanging over



IT is summer, and


is deserted.

The entire

family, with all the sheep and cattle, are miles away,
at the seater on the fielde-the summer pasture-ground
-leaving the standing crops of-grass, corn, potatoes,
and turnips, to ripen under the summer sun; leaving,
also, Jutgaard uninhabited, except by Harold's mother,
who, detained in the valley by her care of old Haco,
has undertaken to see to the safety of Essmark's house
and homestead. Not much care does this require;
for a Norwegian farmer, when he departs thus to his
seater, does not fear to leave his property in the valley

Harold, too, is left behind,
his mother and old Haco. B(

to be company


sides these, none of

Essmark's people remain.
It was early in the morning of a bright and glow-

that Harold, unperceived,


from the

cottage, and ran swiftly towards Jutgaard.
"They are coming back next week,"

said he

himself in

a whisper,

C" and

this horrid Eldman that

grandfather talks so about is


with them-

it was a good thing that Gummel came down from
the field yesterday and told us-so I must do it at


I shall be almost afraid to touch it though."

It did not take long to reach Jutgaard, and reach-
ing it, Harold boldly lifted the latch (the door was not
even locked, so secure did Essmark feel that his pro-

perty was safe) and entered.
again outside of the house,

In a short time

he was

and bearing in his arms a





small burden wrapped in a cloth, he hastened to the
river-side, loosened the boat from its moorings, depo-
sited his bundle in it, and handling his oars with great
experience, began rapidly to ascend the river. For
mile after mile he continued his voyage, until reaching
a spot where the forest reached to the water's edge,
he fastened the boat to a stump, sprang on shore, laden
with the burden, and disappeared. A few minutes
passed away, and Harold was again in the boat, swiftly
rowing down the stream. His countenance was lighted
up with strange excitement, and he uttered wild excla-
mations of satisfaction. He had outwitted that horrid
Eldman; Oscar would be released from his power,
and Jutgaard saved from destruction, for who would
think of searching in that dark wood, and among those
thick brakes, for the fatal gift ?
I won't tell grandfather what I have done," said
the boy, nor mother either; and nobody shall know
it from me."

It was as Harold had said. The following week
came down from the seater the greater part of
Essmark's family. Only the dairy-maid and a herd-boy
were left behind, and greatly to the satisfaction of
Harold, he was ordered at once to join them. It
is all safe now," said the boy, chuckling with delight,
as, toiling up the winding and steep road to the field,
he stopped in his progress, and looked down over the
forest top upon the bright river and green valley of
But who shall depict the consternation of poor
Oscar and Eva, when, a few hours after their return
home, they found nothing but emptiness in the chest
where the completed specimen of Oscar's skill had
been, as they had believed, so safely placed! As hard


would it' be to describe the indignation of Essmark,
and the astonishment of Madame Essmark, when,
after a vain search, and many questions put to Harold's
mother, it was clear that some spoiler had entered their
dwelling, for nowhere could the church be found.
As to Gummel, he could with difficulty conceal his
satisfaction. The prey, in his opinion, had been
delivered from the hand of the enemy. He was
puzzled, too; for instead of the outpouring of wrath
he had expected to witness from the mysterious
stranger-old Haco's Eldman-on finding his plans
thus defeated, there was nothing but sympathy for the
disappointment of poor Oscar and his friends, and
great indifference as to his own.

Rain again-rain-and such rain! It seemed as
though Mr. Barclay's arrival at Jutgaard was to be the
signal for rain. Day after day, for nearly a week, did
rain incessantly fall, and again did Mr. Barclay bear
his confinement with patience and hope.
At length the sky cleared, and the sun shone out
gaily and warmly, and the valley rejoiced in its bright
It was in the long twilight of one of the summer
days that Essmark's fishing boat, well laden with pas-
sengers, -was floating quietly on the broad stream,
which having been swollen by the heavy rain, to the
overflow of many a meadow, was now gradually sub-
siding into its usual channel. With his hand on the
tiller sat young Oscar, and beside him at the boat's
stern sat Eva, their parents, and Mr. Barclay, while
Gummel was lazily pulling the oars.
Suddenly young Oscar sprang forward, clapped his
hands, and pointed to an object on the river floating


down the stream, and rapidly approaching the boat.
In a moment every eye was directed towards the same
object-it was Oscar's masterpiece.
Uttering a cry of horror, as he recognized the very
form of the parish church floating majestically towards
him, Gummel threw up his oars, and cowered to the
bottom of the boat. Little heeding him, however,
the eager hands of Oscar, assisted by his father and
the guest, secured the prize, and with it they gladly
hastened to Jutgaard.
But how could it have found its way to the river ?
Even Eva thought that old Haco and Gummel might,
for once, be excused for believing that there was some
witchcraft in the business.
It was many years afterwards-when Mr. Barclay
had returned to his own country, bearing with him the
specimen of Norwegian wood-carving, which now
ornaments the drawing-room of his London mansion,
-and after Gummel had, in terror, left the service of
Essmark, lest he, too, should be involved in the ruin of
his master's house,-long, too, after old Haco had
been gathered peacefully to his ancestors in the
churchyard of the valley,-that Harold, cured by a
sound education of the superstitions in which he had
been reared, disclosed to his master the true history of
the mysterious church: how he had taken it away, and
concealed it, in mercy to Jutgaard; and how the river,
overflowing its banks, must have washed the object of
his fear from its hiding-place, and restored it to its
Loud was the laughter of Essmark, and great the
amusement of Essmark's family, at hearing this con-
fession; and the story of poor Oscar's enchanted
church is still told in summer days on the seater,"
and on winter nights at the "gaard."

____ ------,~_
-- r--
~~'---- '-
------,~----------~I~ ~ ~-cr-, __
---------~-~,- -1-~5-~- iL.~~
___ __ I_-- 2=-~-~-------- '----~
-- -- --;
--------_/~ ;=;--- .S----
~-L -~i~
=- --~---_.~- _




iWO children and their mother were together
one morning in the front parlour of a small

house in the outskirts of London. That
the mother was a widow could be seen by
her dress, and that she had suffered much sorrow, and
was still full of anxiety, might easily be perceived by
any one who noticed her pale and care-worn counten-
ance. The children--a boy and girl-did not show
any signs of care upon their faces, though they were
not so lively, perhaps, as they would have been, had
their mother not been so sorrowful, and had not the
remembrance of their father's death been still fresh in
their minds. They were living too, just then, with
their mother, in lodgings, after leaving a much plea-
santer home, and their mother was full of uncertainty
as to where they might settle for life.


Lucy, the girl, who was about twelve years old,
was busied that morning about a canary bird which
hung in a little cage by the side of the window; and
while she arranged about it some groundsel, which she
had just bought at the door, and stuck a piece of sugar
between the wires, she chatted away, half to her bird
and half to her brother, hardly expecting, though,
that the latter would answer her, or even listen to her,
so absorbed was he over' his favourita E" obilson
Crusoe," which he was reading for the second or third
"There now, Dickey, you look quite smart," sid
she; "just like a lady in a yellow satin dress, sitting
in a green bower! And wasn't it lucky, Edward, that
I heard that old man crying his water-cresses, and that-
I noticed the other day that he had groundsel to sell
as well? Now really, Dickey, you must give us one
of your best songs this morning, only not too loud,
so as to make mamma's head ache. Ah you have
found out the sugar, have you ? I know you like
Suddenly Lucy lowered her voice, and said to her
brother, who was crouched down in a corner close to
the window with his book on his knees, which were
stuck up, so as to make a reading-desk, Edward, do
you know, I think I see the postman coming down the
street; but don't say anything to mamma about it, and
don't cry out, There's the postman if you hear him
knock. Mamma is always so disappointed when he
does not bring her a letter, and she is so tired of ex-
pecting one from uncle, that I wish she would not
remember that it is post-time at all."
It was a kind thought of Lucy's to try to avoid
calling her mother's attention to the postman; but in
spite of her caution to her brother, they both started,


and so did their mother, when a knock louder than~
usual came to the door; and, like their mother, they
could not help waiting in breathless silence a minute or
two, to see if the maid was going to bring up the letter
to their room. Her step was heard on the stairs, the
door opened, and she came in and handed their mother,
Mrs. Osborne, a letter. Lucy saw her mother's hand
almost tremble as she opened the letter, and she looked
grave and eager as she began to read it. As she read,
however, the anxious look cleared away, she almost
smiled, she looked pleased and satisfied; and letting
the letter fall upon her lap, she leant her arm upon the
table at her side, and covered her eyes with her hand
for a few minutes. Lucy did not know that, during
those few minutes, thanks from her mother's heart
were being offered to God, who had heard her prayers
and sent her help in time of trouble. Lucy, my love,"
said she at length in a cheerful tone, "I have got
a letter at last from your uncle. Edward, do you hear ?
Why, where is Edward ?" said she, looking round the
"Here, mother; here I am," cried Edward, scram-
bling out of his corner with his beloved 'Robinson'-
" a letter from uncle, did you say ?"
"Yes; and such a pleasant letter, dear children.
You know I wrote to consult him about our going to
New Zealand, and instead of that he asks us-to go and
stay with him all the summer at least, and perhaps for
ever. But listenn to what he says," and she read aloud
as follows :--
SHANTS, April 25th.
"DEAR SISTER OSBORNE,-I received your letter,
dated the 5th, only this morning, having been for the
last fortnight from home. I took a run down to Ports-


mouth to see an old friend

,and unexpectedly went a

cruise with him up the Channel, so that I did not get

my letters till my re
advise about New Zeal]

the colony, and


for water.


turn. I



what to

and, not being acquainted with
having touched there once or

I am sorry to find that



brother's affairs have not been arranged as favourably
as you could desire. My old housekeeper, Mrs. Brown,
died about two months back, and I can't say I get on
very well with my household matters, so that if you
think well of it, I shall be very glad to see you here
for a month or two, and longer if we find that we suit

each o

their. I suppose you must bring the children with
There is a good school near, that the boy can go

to every day;

and the girl, I suppose, can learn pud-

ding-making and stitching at home. I don't exactly
know how I shall like to have young folks in the house,
never having been accustomed to them, but I suppose
they know how to behave themselves. You can let

me know




come, a

day or two



", Your affectionate brother-in-law,



" Please to

direct to

Captain Osborne, R.N., The

Haven, near P--.

"P.S.-You had better take the rail on to P----,

instead of stopping at the

station near the Haven.

There are plenty of flies to be had, which will bring
you out. The Haven stands about two miles N.N.W.
of the town, on the old London road."

"You will go, mother, won't you ?"

cried Edward;

1 *1

m sure I hope you will I shall like gomg
uncle's almost as well as going to New Zealand.



will be nearly as good as going a voyage, to hear all
uncle's adventures at sea, won't it, Lucy ? "
Much better, I should say," said Lucy; but still
she did not look as pleased as Edward.
"And you will like to live in the country too,
Lucy, I am sure you will like it very much," said her
Oh yes, mamma-but then Grace Martin I am
so sorry to leave Grace Martin; and at uncle's I shall
never have a girl of my own age to play with, and
Edward will go to school."
"That he would do anywhere," said her mother;
"and you can always write to Grace Martin, as often
as you please."
Yes, mamma; but do you think we shall like
Uncle Osborne? Do you know, I don't quite think he
can be good-natured, or he would not have said that
about our behaving ourselves, or have called us the
boy,' and the girl.' "
"Not good-natured, my dear, when he asks us all
to go to him, and invites you and your brother, who
cannot be of any use to him ? "
Lucy was too good-natured herself not to be ready
to believe that her notion might be quite unfounded,
and when she saw how pleased her mother and brother
were about going to the Haven, she set quite aside her
own little private reasons for not being so happy in
the prospect herself, and she tried not to think so much
about Grace Martin. Lucy had always known Grace
Martin, but they had latterly been living only a few
doors from where her father and mother lived, so that
Lucy and Grace had seen a geat deal of each other, and
been very happy together. After having had no one
but a brother older than herself to play with in general,
it was quite delightful to Lucy to have Grace as a


companion, who by no means despised many of the
plays that Edward could now never be persuaded to
play at; and besides that, was a capital hand at invent-
ing games of the quiet kind that Lucy was so
particularly fond of.
From the very morning on which the invitation
came from Captain Osborne, preparations were began
for leaving London. Mrs. Osborne wrote to accept
most gratefully the proposed shelter for herself and
children, and she undertook to do her best to make
her brother-in-law comfortable, promising also for her
children that they would behave well, and not disturb
him in any way. She ended her letter by fixing to be
at the Haven in a fortnight's time.
That fortnight was soon over. The packing time
was one of great bustle, and the most beautiful spring
weather seemed to make a journey into the country the
pleasantest thing in the world; and even leave-taking
of old friends did not seem so painful as they had all
expected, for every one was so kind, and so glad that
the scheme of going out to New Zealand had been
given up. One pleasure, too, which Lucy enjoyed, then
occupied her thoughts for nearly a whole week, and
this was the choice of a parting keepsake for her friend
Grace Martin. Out of her own savings she bought
the prettiest of work-boxes imaginable, and with her
mother's assistance fitted it up with all kinds of useful
little nick-nacks and materials, such as a clever little
workwoman like Grace is sure to require.
Edward enjoyed most of all the final packing up and
nailing down of boxes, and cording of trunks, for then
he could be of help, and as busy as any one. For a
whole day he went about hammer in hand, from one
room' to another, and used up an innumerable quantity
of nails and tacks to his great satisfaction, and no one


'could have managed better than he did the writing 'of
directions and tying on of labels. There was so much
to be done, and so much bustle at last, that Mrs.
Osborne could hardly be persuaded that something
very important had not been forgotten, when she found
herself with her children fairly seated in the railroad
carriage, which was to take them to P--; but a box
that she fancied must be left behind, proved to be
under the seat-placed there by kind Mr. Martin,
Grace's father, who saw them off; and Edward was
found to have had all the while tight hold of th8 knob
of an umbrella, that, when first inquired after, he was
sure he knew nothing about! This blunder of Edward's
helped them all to a smile before the train had quite
got away from the station, and wiping away the tears
that had started into her eyes, Lucy was able to nod and
kiss her hand to Grace Martin, as she stood by her
father's side on the platform. Grace's bonnet was the
very last thing that Lucy saw as they steamed away
from under the great station roof, and then she had to
settle her pet canary, which she carried in her hand in
his cage and sling him up over head comfortably for
the journey, while she uncovered his cage and let him
see all of the world that he chose. They had no
adventures on the road during their two hours' journey.
'Edward read Robinson Crusoe" the greater part of
the way,.and their mother slept, for she was very tired
with all the bustle of the previous day, and several
sleepless nights, so that Lucy had no one to talk to
and was quite sorry she had not brought a book. A
silent old lady in the corner, however, who was their
only companion in the railroad carriage, got out at one
of the stations, and a more talkative gentleman got in.
He soon caused Edward to look up from his book, and
answer some of his questions. He asked them where


they were going, and what were their names. Did
they like leaving town and coming to stay in the
country ? Edward said he did very much, because he
thought he should have capital fun with his uncle, who
had been a sailor.
I don't like leaving London as well as Edward,"
said Lucy, "because of leaving Grace Martin; and
besides, I am almost afraid of Uncle Osborne, and
don't know whether I shall like him."
Hem said the gentleman, and he called her a
chatterbox. After that he talked more with Edward
than Lucy, and, finding out what he was reading, he
told him a good deal about the real Robinson Crusoe,
Alexander Selkirk, who was wrecked on the island of
Juan Fernandez.
I wonder whether Uncle Osborne ever touched
at Juan Fernandez, in any of his voyages," said
Edward, "I shall ask him when I see him."
Ay, mind you don't forget," said the gentleman
as he got out at the last station before they came to
P--. "And take care Uncle Osborne does not eat
you up," said he to Lucy as he pulled out his great-
coat from under the seat after he was out of the
Edward and Lucy saw their acquaintance walking
away from the station across some fields, which seemed
to lie between them and the town of P--, which
was now visible. In another ten minutes they would
be at the end of the journey, and their mother roused
herself up to see after all their packages, and to call to
mind all that were in the great luggage van at the end
of the train. Dickey was carefully covered up again,
and the bags and baskets of each collected. Nothing
was left behind, and a nice little carriage was found at
the station in which they were soon-leaving the town


again along a pleasant country road. The driver knew
Captain Osborne's house, called the Haven, quite well,
so that when he stopped before a pretty white house
standing amidst shrubberies and flower-beds, with a
smooth lawn.on one side sloping down from the sitting-
room windows, they felt delighted to think that so

pleasant a place was to be their future home. If they
had doubted for a minute, there was the white and red
flag hoisted on a flag-staff in the middle of the lawn,
and on the top of a little summer-house was a brightly
gilt weather-cock, with the four points of the compass
shown by its letters-all which looked as if the house
4474- -~\---
f l. !

,shown by its letters--all which looked as i the house


belonged to one who had been accustomed to hoist
flags on all occasions of importance, and to think a
great deal about the direction of the wind.
Edward and Lucy, however, were almost in too
much trepidation just then to look more about them.
They were hunting out all their own possessions again,
and were preparing to get out of the carriage, when
whom should they see handing out their mother, and
welcoming her very cordially to his house, but the
gentleman who had talked to them in the train-the
sunburnt gentleman who seemed to know so much
about the sea, and who could be no one else but their
own uncle, Captain Osborne!
"Well, my young gentle-man, so we are met again,
you see-only that Ihave got into port a little before
you, by a nearer tack ;--yes, no mistake, my man, I
am Uncle Osborne himself, you see," and he shook
Edward heartily by the hand. He helped Lucy out
too, but he did not take so much notice of her as of her
brother; and he really -did frighten her a little, even
at this her first arrival at the Haven, by the sharp way
in which he told her to let her things alone, and leave
the servant to look after them. Only once, however, did
he allude to Lucy's dread of him, and this was when
a large Newfoundland dog came bounding forth to meet
them, as they went up thee path to the house. Lucy
shrunk back, rather in alarm, at the unceremonious
greeting of great Rover, but her uncle said, No fear,
Miss Lucy, even of him; for he won't bite any more
than his master."
Nothing, however, could be more kind or hospit-
able than the manner in which they were all received
by Captain Osborne at the Haven, while Mrs. Osborne,
after a little while, was able to remember, in her sun-
burnt and weather-beaten brother-in-law, the young


man that she

had only known when just entering the

navy as a midshipman. He explained to her that he
had unexpectedly had some business that morning at a
town on the line of railway by which they had come,
and that after he found out who were his companions
in returning, he had tried not to disturb her nap, whilst
he amused himself with the talk of the young folk,
without letting them know who he was. Mrs. Osborne

soon felt
stood the

quite at home with him, and quickly under-
mixture of roughness and kindness which

was in his manners.

They had,

besides, many plea-

sant remembrances of old times to talk over together,
which made them familiar and friendly at once.
Edward liked his uncle very much, and was greatly
delighted with all the charming things that were to be
found at the Haven, and Lucy's spirits rose as she saw
how pleased and cheerful her mother seemed. She
followed close behind, as her uncle led the way, all over
the house and round the garden, and thought to her-
self how ungrateful it would be not to be pleased at the

thought of living in such a nice home.
tions, too, had been made for their

prettiest of bed-rooms and

Kind prepara-
arrival, and the

sitting-rooms set apart en-

tirely for the use of her mother and herself, and even,
before they had been half-an-hour in the house, a nail

found at the

side of a pleasant window where Dickey

could hang and sing as long as he liked
Captain Osborne did not dislike pet birds;
hall was a large grey parrot, on a perch, w]



for in the
ho was the

most amusing and plain-speaking talker that was ever


It was enough to make them all feel at home,

if it were only to hear this parrot, whom the bustle of
their arrival had roused into a talkative fit; for nothing

was heard all over the house but How

d'ye do;"

" Hope you're pretty well; Glad to see you ;" filled


up with the usual praises of her own beauty,
these birds are so fond of sounding.


"Is it not all delightful?" said Edward to Lucy,
when they were together in their mother's room, un-
buckling straps and unlocking padlocks. Don't you
like uncle now, Lucy ? and are you not sorry you told
him in the railroad carriage that you did not like

coming to stay with him ?

Don't you think, mother,

that Lucy had better tell him she is very sorry, and did

not mean to say- "
"No, Edward, I do not," said his mother;

" Lucy

told the truth about her feelings, and your uncle knows

that she did not


it as any rudeness to him,


cause she did not know to whom she was speaking.
He will soon think no more of it, and will like Lucy
well enough at last, I have no doubt-and all the
more for her being plain-spoken and truthful like him-
The first evening at the Haven passed very happily,
and Lucy tried not to fancy that her uncle had taken a
dislike to her, at the same time that she was really

quite glad to see what
were going to be.


friends he and Edward




BETTER acquaintance with the Haven only made
everybody like it still better, and Edward, in particular,
seemed to be happier and happier every day. No house
that he had ever lived in had in it such very interest-
ing things, and no garden had ever afforded so much
amusement to him. Before the first morning was over,
he had grown quite expert at hoisting and taking down

the flag on the flagstaff;
and had fed the pigeons.

he knew the dogs all by name,

He had

been introduced to

his uncle's grey mare in the stable, and had been taken
up into what was called the workshop, over the kitchen,
where were the turning-lathe and chest of carpenter's
tools; and he had been to the very farthest end of the
orchard, and into every corner of the kitchen-garden.
But it was what his uncle called his state-cabin that



pleased him most of all. This was a room indoors,
which his uncle considered particularly his own, and
did not like anybody to go into unless he was with


him. It was quite a museum that little room, and all
around it were curiosities, which Captain Osborne had
brought home from different parts of the world in his
voyages. Shells, pieces of branch coral, sea-weed,
ostrich-eggs, stuffed birds, and such objects of natural
history, but also things even more interesting to Ed-
ward, such as pictures and models of celebrated ships,
telescopes, a quadrant, and a mariner's compass, both
of which latter things he wished much to understand.
Here, too, it was that Captain Osborne kept his fishing-
tackle, and made his own flies for angling; which was,
perhaps, the reason why he did not like people going
into his room when he was away, for fear they should
disturb the little delicate materials with which he made
them. Edward passed several hours of each day with
his uncle in this room, when he was not at work in the
garden with him, or accompanying him in a ride in his
gig. No companion that Edward had ever had, of his
own age, was half so entertaining to him as his uncle,
and he liked to be with him too, because he was always
learning from him the kind of knowledge that was
particularly interesting to him. His uncle, for instance,
could tell him everything about ships and navigation
that he wanted to know. Ie learnt from him the
names of all the parts of a vessel, and the names of the
different kinds of vessels, and how to distinguish them.
He had long wished to understandrightly the difference
between a brig, a frigate a cutter, and a schooner; to
say nothing of all the names for the different sails and
masts, which he often fobwd alluded to in books, with-
out exactly knowing what they meant. He was never
tired of asking questions about such matters; and it
seemed as if Uncle Osborne was never tired of giving
explanations. Then what interesting stories his uncle
could tell him about his adventures at sea, and about


all the grand sea-fights that had taken place when he
was a little midshipman,-those especially in which
Lord Nelson had distinguished himself. Edward was
sure he never should be tired of hearing all about Lord
Nelson, and he longed for the time when he should go
to Portsmouth to see the Victory," the ship in which
he was killed, and which his uncle promised to show
him some day.
Lucy, meantime, went on with her mother much
as she usually did, wherever they were, with her books
and her work. She was very happy, and she liked
the pleasant garden and the pretty country walks very
much, but she would have been glad to have had a
young companion of her own age, or to have been a.
little more with Edward.. It was impossible, too, for
her to take so much pleasure as Edward in her uncle's
talk about ships, for in fact she did not half under-
stand what it was aI about, from the strange sailor's
expressions that he made use of, She was a long time
before she found out that starbacrd and larboard meant
the right and left sides of a ship, fore and aft, the
front and back prts, and when her uncle talked
of "jib-booms," and foretop-gallants," and about
" taking the sun," and "' getting soundings," it seemed
to be quite another language, and she despaired of
ever being able to understand it all. Regularly every
evening; when her uncle and Edward came in to tea,
when it would have been so pleasant to have heard
what they had been doing all the afternoon, they were
sure to have some long story about a shipwreck, or
about one of Nelson's sea-fights to finish off, which,
for want of having heard the beginning, was quite un-
intelligible to her; and very often all the cups and
saucers and plates would be arranged about the table,
to show the positions of the different vessels at the



of St. Vincent,

or Trafalgar;

and if Lucy

try to understand how it-was, she was sure to make a
blunder, and get Confused about the English and

French ships, fancying perhaps all the time that
sugar-basin had been on the French side, when it
been fixed on for Nelson's ship. All this made ]

; the

much more silent at the Haven than she had ever been

before in her life, so

that Uncle Osborne had no op-

- --
-z __,d
~_ ~r

-------~P~.~~--- ---~,.,.6;;J

portunity of calling her a chatterbox again, as he did
in the railroad carriage. To tell the truth, her uncle
did not take much notice of Lucy in any kind of way,
1. 1 11 I


it was to ask her every day how

she got


with her sewing," which he seemed to think the only
thing she had anything to do with; and when he
found out that she had never learned to mark, he used

to teaze her a little


it, always asking her when



she was going to begin a sampler, which Lucy did not
at all see any necessity for doing, considering how
neatly her mother marked everything with marking-
ink. Lucy took the teazing very good-temperedly,
however, we ought to observe, and was always so
obliging, that she never on any occasion omitted doing
any little thing for her uncle that she could; and her
mother had only to say, Lucy, your uncle's slippers,"
or "Lucy, your uncle's hat," before she was off as
quick as lightning, to fetch them. She and her brother
both tried to please their uncle, to whom they were so
much obliged; but it was in different ways-Lucy with
actions, perhaps, and Edward with words. Edward
was too anxious to please his uncle in this way, and he
was not long at the Haven before his mother began to
fear that this might have a bad effect upon his charac-
ter. This trying so much to please one person is rather
a dangerous thing at all times, and is not nearly so
safe as trying to do and say what is right. Now,
Captain Osborne could be rather sharp and severe
when things did not go on quite smoothly, or when
any one disobeyed his orders and wishes. IHving
been accustomed the greater part of his life to have
the command of a large crew of sailors on board a ship,
where nothing can be done except through the most
strict obedience to the words of the captain, it was
natural that he should be vexed and displeased if any
one seemed for an instant to forget his orders. Ed-
ward was exceedingly fearful of causing his uncle to
express any such vexation; and yet at the same time
he was by no means accustomed to be very punctual
or particular, so that he very often had recourse to
excuses to prevent his uncle from being angry with
"Come, come Master Edward, I don't like being


kept waiting," said his uncle, one day when they were
going out for a walk.
"Yes, uncle; but my shoes were not cleaned, and
I had to wait for them, uncle," said Edward, although,
long after he had put on his shoes, he had been seen
by his mother and Lucy playing in the yard with the
"Edward should not have said anything about the
shoes," said his mother, looking very grave. The
very next day, Edward had been helping the gar-
dener's boy to hoe some lettuces, and instead of put-
ting back his hoe in the tool-house, he had thrown
it down, so that his uncle had picked it up when he
went round the garden. "I like my tools put back in
their proper places," said he to Edward.
Yes, uncle, I know; and I am always very par-
ticular, so I cannot help thinking that must be the hoe
that Jack used." There was something in the tone of
Edward's voice as he said this, which made Lucy, who
was present, feel quite uncomfortable.
"Don't you think you forgot to put it away ?" said
she in a low voice to him. Lucy often wished that
Edward was not so afraid of Uncle Osborne, and had
courage to tell him the exact truth about such little
matters. How different it was with herself-although
it might have been thought beforehand that she would
be likely to feel much more afraid of her uncle than
Edward. It happened one day, when Captain Osborne
was out, that Lucy was sent by her mother to fetch a
letter which lay on the table in his room, and which
they knew he particularly wished to be sent to the
post, so that Lucy had no hesitation in going there by
herself to fetch it. She had found the letter, and was
leaving the room with it, when she felt something pull
at her elbow, and, looking round, she found that one


of her. uncle's fish-hooks had caught in her sleeve.
It had a long piece of twine fastened to it, and this
twine had brought with it other pieces of horsehair
and catgut, and all sorts of bristles, and feathers, and
artificial flies, had been scattered over the floor. Lucy
was at first in terrible alarm about the mischief she
had done, but, extricating the hook from her sleeve,
she picked up the rest of the tackle, and put it back on
the table, fearing to make matters worse by attempt-
ing to replace them as they had been before. She was
very vexed about it altogether, because it was the very
first tine she had ever been in that room alone; but
it never occurred to her to try to prevent her uncle
from knowing that it was she who had disturbed his
things. She even went and stood by the garden-gate,
so as to be ready to tell him directly he came in from
his walk, and she said at once that she was afraid he
would find that she had done some mischief. I think,
too, uncle," added she, "I ought to tell you that I
remember I put your letter into your letter-weight,
which I need not have done, because it was very light,
and I daresay I leant my elbow on the table for a
minute, and did .not see that there were any hooks
Lucy followed her uncle into the room as he went
to see what was the matter, and she begged to be
allowed to try and disentangle the twine and.horsehair,
which she did very patiently, so that it ended by her
uncle saying that no great harm had been done; and
any one could see that he was pleased at Lucy's frank-
ness and truthfulness in. telling .him about the affair.
Perhaps it was about this time that their Uncle Osborne
began to see the difference between the characters of
Edward and Lucy; for a little circumstance, which
happened a day or two after, showed it very plainly.


Captain Osborne and Edward were flying a kite upon
the lawn, and the latter was sent to the state cabin"
to fetch a card which was to make a messenger to be
sent up the string. When he came back, his uncle
said he hoped he had not meddled with anything, and
Edward too readily replied, Oh, no, uncle, indeed!"

Presently Captain Osborne went to fetch something
which no one but himself could find, and when he

came back Edward and Lucy saw in an instant that he

was displeased.

"I thought, young gentleman," said

he, that you said you had not meddled with any-
"No, indeed, uncle, I did not," said Edward again.
"Take care, Master Edward, what you are saying,"

said his uncle;

"for, if you did not meddle with any-

thing, how was it that I found
when I went into the room ?"

my hour-glass running

I 127-t


Edward blushed,
out an excuse; "' Yo

and stopped for an instant to seek
)u said meddled, you know, uncle,

and I did not say I had not touched anything-."
He was going on, but his uncle looked at him very
sternly, and said, People who speak the truth speak
it according to the meaning of words;" and he would.
not have another word from Edward on the subject, nor



did he talk as usual with him that evening at tea, but

read the newspaper aloud to Mrs.
All this time Mrs. Osborne I

iad been looking out

for a school for Edward, where he could go for several


of the day, and


he would

have more

regular occupation; and such a school being
found, she began to feel that they were now

settled at the Haven, for many months, at
while Captain Osborne would sometimes
their stay was to be for years.

all events,
s talk as if





EDWARD and Lucy had not long been at the -Haven
before a little acquaintanceship sprung up between
them and the children of a farmer who lived very near,
and whose farm stretched down to the roadside oppo-
site the Haven, through which, by pleasant pathways
over fields of wheat and barley, they went to the farm-
house. Haymaking time was scarcely over, before
the children began to look forward to the harvest,
when, for the first time in their lives, Edward and'
Lucy were to be gleaners. Farmer Whicher always
had a most merry harvest-supper for his labourers;
and this year Mrs. Whicher promised her children also
a little treat in the way of a supper, to which they
were to invite all their young friends, as well as the
children of the farm-labourers who lived in the neigh-
bouring village.
Now, Edward and Lucy were invited to this har-
vest feast, and looked forward to it with no little
pleasure-watching the weather and the ripening of
the corn almost as anxiously as Farmer Whicher
himself. When the morning came that, on looking
out of the window as she was dressing, Lucy first
described a band of reapers, cutting away with their
bright sickles at the edge of the waving sea of wheat
which lay beyond the roadside hedge, she called out
to Edward the joyful news that the harvest was began;
and, before the day was over, the farmer's children
came down to tell them that their little harvest-home


supper was fixed for the following Thursday, when
their father expected that the greater part of his corn
would be got into his barns. The large wheat-field,
which lay between the Haven and the farm, would, at
all events, be carried that day; and it was expected
that, at about five o'clock in the afternoon, the gleaners
would be able to take. possession of the field. Long
before that time, on the appointed day, Edward and
Lucy, and a group of the village children, were at the
gate of the field, ready to begin operations the very
moment that the last cart should drive out; for, as is
usually the case, Farmer Whicher did not like the
gleaners to be admitted until his crop of corn was
fairly off the field. It was very amusing at first tc
watch the men pitching up into the carts the heavy
sheaves; but the children had not watched this long
before they began to feel impatient about the progress
of their labour, for it seemed as if the field would never
be emptied. Five o'clock had struck long ago, and it
was not very far off six, when a message came out from
the farm, to say, that as the men were likely to be
quite another hour before they had carried all the
corn, the children were to be allowed to enter, and
glean in the lower part of the field, away from the
remainder of the still standing sheaves. The children
shouted joyfully, as this permission was given, and the
gate being opened, in they rushed; and, scattering
about the field, were soon seen busy stooping and
gathering up the scattered ears of wheat which had
been left behind. Who should glean the largest
bundle was the cry-and no one, was more eager than
Edward to prove a good gleaner. He was not so
steady at his work, or persevering, however, as Lucy,
who went quietly on, travelling up the furrows, and
taking care not to go to parts where others had been


before. Now and then all agreed to rest awhile; for
they grew hot and tired with so much stooping; and
then there were other things to look at and divert
their attention, such as the nest of a field-mouse full
of young ones, and a hedgehog, which one of the
young Whichers turned out of the hedge, and which.
rolled itself up into a round prickly ball. Edward
had never before seen a hedgehog, and he stayed
looking at it, and trying to make it unroll itself again,
long after the rest had returned to their gleaning.
Presently, the eldest Miss Whicher came out from the
house, to summon all the gleaners in. The tarts and
cakes were out of the oven, she said, and the fermety,
which was to be the principal dish on the supper table,
would be ready in another hour. She invited all the
gleaners to come on to the lawn, at the back of the
house, and there, in the cool arbour, they could rest
and bind up their sheaves, and then have a game of
play. The children obeyed the summons very gladly;
for, altogether, it was thought they must have gleaned
what, when divided amongst the village children,
would make a famous sheaf for each to carry home.
Lucy, with the rest, was leaving the field, with a
charming large bundle of wheat in her apron, when
she looked round to see after Edward. He was only
then coming away from a corner of the field where the
hedgehog had been found, and, as he came up to her,
Lucy was quite vexed to see what a small quantity of
corn he had gleaned; really not more than he could
hold in one hand.
"Oh, Edward!" said she "how little you have
got; what have you been about?" Edward never
liked being behind others in what he did, so that he
was sorry, now it was too late, that he had not gleaned
more industriously. He and Lucy were passing at



A I 'a I

JTj f

niis moment up amongst tho shocks of corn wlinci
were yet standing; and what was Lucy's concern, to
see Edward stay behind, and draw out of one of the

sheaves several fine ears of corn to add

to his


small bunch.

" Oh, Edward, you must not take that

corn-you know you must not!

Farmer Whicher has

trusted us to leave those sheaves alone.



It is really quite like

Oh, pray

she, the tears coming into her eyes at the very

"What nonsense, Lucy,-you do say such things.
Just as if the corn did not all belong to Farmer

Whicher,-and just as if it mattered to him.

You see

I have not taken more than a dozen ears of corn at

the very most."

And Edward

ran past

her into

Lucy stood for
wishing she could

Sa few minutes in painful thought,
do anything that would make Ed-

ward bring back that corn again, and see things as
she saw them, and feel as she felt; then, suddenly a

plan occurred

to her,


better, at all events, in this case

would make matters
3; then, taking out of

her own gleanings twelve nice full ears of corn, she
laid them at the top of the sheaf, from which Edward
had so dishonourably helped himself. She was turn-
ing away from the sheaf, when she started to see
Farmer-Whicher leaning over a gate close by, watching
the filling of the last cart. Lucy hoped he had not
seen her put back the ears of corn, or rather that he
had not seen Edward take them.

The children





themselves much



little sheaves and portioning

them out among those whose homes would be glad-
dened by the prospect of an extra loaf or two of bread
during the coming week, and when their work was







done, all were ready for a game of play upon the
smooth green lawn.
Prisoner's base was the game fixed upon, which
the girls soon learned to play at, although they had
never heard of it before, and the arbour was an ex-
cellent prison for the prisoners who were taken in the
chase. The sun was sinking behind the hills and
sending its slanting rays through the trees of -Farmer
Whicher's orchard, and the shadow of the great cedar
of Lebanon had stretched quite across the lawn, and
made the prison where Lucy was in confinement, beau-
tifully gloomy, when a voice was heard calling all the
party of runners and catchers in to supper. Such a
bustling and crowding there was into the supper-room,
the old-fashioned parlour where the large table was
laid out for the children's harvest feast. Dishes piled
high with all manner of good things, fruit, pastry, and
a variety of choice cakes, were arranged upon the
snow-white table-cloth, and in the midst a large china
bowl full of smoking hot fermety. There were nose-
gays of flowers too upon the table, by way of ornament,
and the eldest Miss Whicher had made a most beauti-
ful garland of blue corn-flowers, which lay on the
table, ready to crown, as she said, the queen of the
gleaners. The children were soon seated down each
side of the long table, and the fermety was being
ladled out to them and the cakes handed round, when
Farmer Whicher came in, bringing with him Captain
and Mrs. Osborne, who had walked up to the farm to
fetch Edward and Lucy-as every one said, a great
deal too soon. They consented to wait, however,
until the children's supper was quite over, and were
glad to ee the pleasant sight of their happiness.
Farmer Whicher had something merry to say to each
child as he walked round the table-now patting a


boy on the head, and now chucking a little
the chin. At last he came to Lucy-" Ah,


is my

little friend, Miss Lucy," said he, "my good lit
honest friend, who would not let me .be defrauded

any of my corn.

She it is who deserves to be crowned

queen of the gleaners." And as he spoke he took up
the garland of corn-flowers which lay upon the table,
and popped it upon Lucy's head.
Lucy held down her head, blushing deeply.
"What is this all about? said Captain Osborne,
whilst everybody round the table looked anxious for

an explanation. Farmer
Master Edward had made

Whicher jokingly told how
up for his bad gleaning by

helping himself from one of his sheaves, and how
Miss Lucy had been too honest to let him be cheated

that way.

He had seen it all, he said,

by the hedge whilst he was looking
they little knew that he had seen it all.
It was now Edward's turn to hold

as he stood hid
after his men;

down his head,

and though Farmer Whicher seemed to think it a very
good joke, there were those present who could not
think it so. Mrs. Osborne looked sorry and grieved,

and Captain Osborne said

in a very severe tone to

Edward, "You ought to have been ashamed to do such a
thing. It was no better than stealing, to take the corn
in that way." Luckily for Edward, the noise of talk-
ing and-the rattle of plates and spoons, together with
the praises of Lucy's honesty which were sounded
round the table, prevented these words from being heard
by the rest of the children. Lucy got rid of the crown

which made her -feel so bashful, a
the little girl who had been fixed
gleaners, because she really had

nd it reached at last
on as a queen of the
gleaned more than

any of them, but as Miss Whicher took the garland
from Lucy, she said, "After all, Miss Lucy, it is a more



unfading crown than mine you know, that is reserved
for the Upright and the Just." There was plenty of
fun and merriment to finish out the evening and pre-
vent any one saying anything more about the affair of
the stolen wheat-ears, so that even Edward had partly
succeeded in forgetting it. His mother and uncle,
however, could not forget it. When they had at last
taken leave of the farmer's kind family and were walk-
ing home, Mrs. Osborne went on before the others with
Edward, to whom she had something to say, whilst
Uncle Osborne and Lucy walked together. It would
have been quite dark but for the very bright stars
overhead and just a faint tinge of red left in the sky
to the west. Lucy felt that her uncle was so very kind
in taking care that she did not stumble over the stiff
stubble, or slip into the furrows as they crossed the
now empty corn-field. He kept quite tight hold of her
hand, whilst he carried for her her bunch of nice long
straight straws which she was taking home to plait.
Her uncle assisted her, too, so kindly over the very
awkward stile, which had a ditch and a foot-plank on
the other side, and he talked to her so very pleasantly
all the way home. They talked about the stars. Her
uncle showed Lucy which was the pole-star, by which
sailors at sea could find the north and steer by it.
All over the world, can they see it?" asked Lucy.
No, not all over the world. When ships sail in
a southerly direction and approach nearer and nearer
to the equator, the pole-star seems to sink down nearer
and nearer to the horizon, until at last it is quite lost
sight of; and when sailing in the southern hemisphere,
people see quite a different set of stars in the sky to
what we do in England-quite different groups of stars
or constellations as they are called, and the constella-
Stions have different names."


This little lesson on the stars was just ended as they
arrived at the gate of the Haven, where Mrs. Osborne
and Edward were standing after having rung the bell.
As they got up to them, Captain Osborne and Lucy
knew quite well what Edward and his mother had been
talking about, by the last words that were spoken.
"Now, do, my dear Edward, try to be more parti-
cular in future."
"I will, mother,-indeed, I will," said Edward,
and he spoke as if he was quite in earnest as he made
the promise.
"Yes, my boy," said Captain Osborne, laying his
hand on Edward's shoulder, "learn to steer by the
pole-star truth and honour, and then you will never
run aground on shoals, or break on rocks."


AFTER the conversation which her uncle and Lucy had
had together about the stars, in which the latter had
shown that she liked to understand such matters, her
mother observed that Captain Osborne often stopped
in the middle of what he was relating to Edward, in
order to explain sea terms, and such sailors' expres-
sions as he thought she might not understand; and
these explanations began to make his stories of ship-
wrecks and adventures at sea much more interesting
to her. Her mother's prophecy that Captain Osborne
would like Lucy, when he came to know her well, had
come to pass; and whilst he liked her for being so
obliging and intelligent, he quite loved her for her
truthfulness and strict feeling of honour.
What made Lucy at this time particularly glad that
she was beginning to understand more about ships and
boats was, that her uncle and Edward had a grand
scheme for building a boatt large enough to be rowed
on the pond at the bottom of the lawn. Now we must
explain that this pond, though avery prettyobject to look
at from the house, with its weeping willow hanging over
it at one end, was rather an inconvenience to those who
lived at the Haven. It lay between the kitchen-garden
and lawn; and in order t-o get to the former, it was
necessary to go rather a long way round, through the
yard at the side of the house, and down a strip of
ground that was used for drying linen. At the time
that the strawberries were ripe, and afterwards, when
the cook was busy preserving, it was felt to be quite
tiresome to have to go such a long way round with


the baskets of fruit. Edward had often asked his
uncle why he did not build a bridge over the narrow
end of the pond, but this was never thought of seri-
ously. One day, however, when Edward was at home,
on one of his half-holidays.:it was raining so heavily,
that there was nothing to be done but to get up in the
workshop and do some carpentering, and then it was
'that the making of a boat was first planned. When
they came in to tea that evening, Edward was full of
delight and full of talk about the real proper-shaped
and proper-sized boat they were going to build for the
pond. It was to be large enough to hold three persons,.
and Uncle Osborne thought that they might get it
finished in time for gathering of the late apples and
winter pears, so that it would be really useful to bring
the baskets over from the other side, and land them
where they would be carried up to the apple-room in
no time.
Lucy liked the idea of the boat very much, and had
no fears about its capsizing, as her uncle called it,
because the bottom of the pond could be seen so
plainly, that she was sure no one could ever be drowned
in it. She listened quite patiently to the description
of how it was all to be managed-how the frame of the
boat was to be made of five long pieces of deal, and
how the ribs were to be of flexible ash-wood; how a
piece of- zinc was to be fastened along the "keel; and
lastly, how canvas was 'to be stretched over the out-
side, because it would be impossible for them, as
Captain Osborne said, to get planks warped into the
right curve for nailing outside, in the manner of boats
in general, and the canvas would make it light and
easy to carry. There was nothing talked of but the
boat all that evening, and when the tea-things were
removed, pen and ink and paper were brought out to


make a list of all that would be wanted of nails,
screws, and tin tacks, zinc, ash-wood, and deal-all of
which things Captain Osborne was to have in readiness
to begin operations with the very next evening. So
many hours work on half-holidays, and so many half-
hours before breakfast and after tea, on ordinary days,
would, they thought, complete the boat in three weeks'
time, so that the grand day of the launch might be
fixed for Lucy's birth-day, which was at the beginning
of September.
Everything went on very pleasantly and smoothly
with the boat-building between Edward and his uncle,
so that Lucy and her mother were quite pleased to see
how much more careful he had become, whilst he was
always diligent over his lessons, and punctual at school,
which his mother was very particular about. It can-
not be said that Edward never made excuses at this
time, and did not sometimes misrepresent a little when
he was in fear of being blamed, but every one thought
he was trying to cure himself of his faults, and mado
allowance for the difficulty of breaking himself of a
settled habit.
Lucy was very glad to be allowed by her mother to
go occasionally up to the workshop to watch Edward
and her uncle at work upon the boat. She was sur-
prised to find that it required such downright hard
work, and used to wonder that they liked to make
themselves so hot and tired with their hammering and
sawing. At first it was thought that it would not be
necessary to have a rudder to their boat, considering
what short voyages it would have to perform on the
little pond, but Edward maintained that it would be
quite a pity not to make it a real boat in every respect,
so that a rudder was decided on, and Captain Osborne
thought that he knew of a man in P--, who would be


able to furnish them with a set of rudder-irons small
enough to suit their little boat. These irons were the
sort of hinges which were to connect the rudder to the
boat, and enable it to move from side to side, at the
will of the steersman, but they were so contrived, that
the rudder could be taken off, or unshipped, as Captain
Osborne said, when it was not wanted. The rudder,
and the piece of wood which fitted on to the top of it,
called a yoke, with its two pieces of rope, which were
to be pulled first on one side and then on the other,
as they steered, was thought by Lucy to be the pret-
tiest part of the boat, although it was altogether, as
her uncle said, as trim a little craft as ever was built."
Lucy's birthday drew near, and there was nothing
to be done but the pitching and painting of the boat
and the making of a pair of oars. A painter who was
coming to re-paint the greenhouse was to do the
former, and Uncle Osborne undertook to get the oars
finished off whilst Edward was.at school the last three
days. Lucy thought something very terrible had hap-
pened, from Edward's look of consternation, as he
came in one evening to tell his mother and her quite
an unexpected difficulty about the boat. All finished
as it was, and ready for pitching and painting in the
open air, it could not be got down the crooked little
staircase that led up to the workshop! Captain
Osborne had always expected that it could be hoisted
up on end in such a manner as to come down very
easily, but it was now found that this could not be
managed, so that there was nothing left, but to take
out the window of the workshop and lower the boat
with ropes into the yard below. Jack had been sent
up to Farmer Whicher's to borrow some ropes for this
purpose, and when they arrived Mrs. Osborne and Lucy,
and the maid-servants, went out into the yard to see


the operation of letting down the boat. It took half-
an-hour before this was managed-the gardener and
Jack, Captain Osborne and Edward, all hard at work,
very hot and very eager. Quite safely, however, and,.
without any damage to it, the little boat was lowered
to the ground, and those who had never seen it before
thought it most beautifully and cleverly made. Edward
was very delighted, and very impatient to see it
launched upon the pond. He could hardly, in fact,
make up his mind to lose sight of it, when his uncle
proposed -its being carried into an outhouse and left
for the night. They had, however, to discuss together
the important point of what colour it was to be painted,
and the still more important point to settle of what it
was to be called. Black outside with the pitch of
course it would be, so it was thought that a bright
green inside, with lines of white, would give it a light
and pretty effect; but as to the name-that was most
difficult to settle. Uncle Osborne did not care about
the name, and said Edward might call it what he
liked, and Mrs. Osborne could not suggest one.
Edward and Lucy tried the sound of several, when all
at once Edward declared that he had thought of the
best name in the world, and was sure everybody would
think so too; but as Uncle Osborne had said he might
choose the name, he would not tell what he had fixed
on until the painter had painted it in white letters at
the stern. He made Lucy promise that she would not
go to look at the boat again until it was painted, and
ready for launching, because Edward was certain she
would like the name, and wanted to surprise her; and
Lucy never once tried to make him tell her what he
had fixed on, and never even tried to guess it. She
told her mother, in fact, the next day, that she was
nearly sure she knew what it was to be.


During the pitching, and painting, and drying of
the boat, which took quite three days, Lucy was busily
employed, in her leisure time, in making a little flag
to hang at the stern of the boat. It was to be a
" Union Jack;" and her mother having procured her
some pieces of red, blue, and white calico, Uncle
Osborne left her a picture of the flags of different
nations to copy it from: but it was to be quite a sur-
prise to Edward, and only when his secret about the
name came out was Lucy to present her nice little
flag, which she was sure would please him greatly.
All was ready by Lucy's birthday; and the painter
pronounced, that if they could only wait until the
evening, there would be no chance of the paint coming
off on Lucy's frock during her first voyage round the
pond, after that Uncle Osborne and Edward had made
a sort of experimental trip. The beautiful iced plum-
cake, which was to be served up at tea that evening,
made by the cook in honour of Lucy's birthday, was
hardly thought of by any one, so full were they of the
launch of the boat.
At about five o'clock, Lucy and her mother were
out on the lawn, .and were sitting on the bench under
the plane-tree, ready for the ceremony, when presently
there came quite a procession across the lawn from the
yard at the side of the house. First came the boat
itself, hoisted on the shoulders of the gardener and
Jack-then came Uncle Osborne with the pair of oars,
and lastly Edward with the rudder and its yoke. In
a few minutes more the boat was shoved off on to
the pond at a point where the lawn sloped down very
gradually to the water, and Mrs. Osborne and Lucy
were summoned to approach. All this time Lucy had
been holding under her apron, to conceal it, the gay
little flag which was to surprise Edward so much; but


then waving it up in the air, she came forward to pre-
sent it, and be surprised herself about the name of
the boat. She was surprised, and, it must be con-
fessed, a little disappointed, although she could not
deny that it was an excellent name. Edward had
called his boat the "Crusoe," and Lucy only wondered
that she had not also thought of this name, considering
that Robinson Crusoe" was still his most favourite
book. She had been thinking of quite a different name,
and it had put "Robinson Crusoe out of her head.

Crusoe righted herself upon the water and made

anything like disappointment in Lucy's manner. She
s- '^-'V

Edward was so delighted with the little Union
Jack, and with the admirable manner in which the
" Crusoe" righted herself upon the water and made
the first voyage round the pond, that he never noticed
anything like disappointment in Lucy's manner. She
was, besides, too pleased herself at the success of the
boat to feel it long, and she was not in the least afraid
when the time came for her to step into the boat and


go round the pond with Uncle Osborne, and, after a
little instruction from him, he said she made a very
good steersman.
Tea had been waiting long, and the urn had ceased
to boil, so that fresh warm water was wanted, before
the party could make up their minds to moor up
the boat and return to the house. People ate Lucy's
delicious plum-cake, talking all the time about the boat
and praising it, and planning all sorts of things which
were to be done for it, and with it, when all at once
Edward turned to Lucy and said, Now, do tell us,
Lucy, what was the name you thought of for the boat-
you have never told us yet."
Lucy blushed very much, and she hesitated---she
could hardly make up her mind to tell them, for she
thought they would think it so silly. At last, she said
that she had thought-indeed, from something Ed-
ward had said, she had almost felt sure-that he was
going to call the boat the Lucy.' "
Lucy had no sooner said this than Edward quite
wished he had thought of calling it after his sister, and
he said so-and Captain Osborne also wished that Lucy's
name had been given to the boat; and he did not think
it at all strange or wrong that she should have expected
it. He liked too, very much, that she should have been
so frank in telling them all her thoughts, when it
would have been easy enough to have concealed them.
It was possible, even for Captain Osborne, who had
been all his life a brave sailor, to admire this kind of
courage in a very little girl; and without any one
knowing how it came about, Lucy was presently sitting
on her uncle's knee, with his arm so kindly round her;
and before the evening was over, he remembered that
upstairs he had a most beautifully carved ivory fan,
that he had brought home from India, in one of his


voyages, which must have taken quite a
Chinaman's life to carve; and he brought it

gave it to Lucy, as a birthday present
from him, and in remembrance of the
" Crusoe."

year of a
down and

and keepsake
launch of the



THE Crusoe "



was a continual source of


to every one at the Haven, and no day passed with-

out her performing

and passages
seemed quite




voyages round the pond,
Even Captain Osborne

with her success, and


stand for an hour together on the bank, giving
Edward instructions in rowing, and telling Lucy how
to steer. There were not any rocks or breakers in
their little sea, but, as it required, they always main-
tained some skilful steering, to keep clear of the old
stump of a post that stood up out of the water at one
end of the pond, and to keep away from the branches
of the willow-tree at the other end, which would have
carried off Lucy's bonnet perhaps if they had got among
Edward became very expert in managing the
" Crusoe," and in mooring her to the stump of a laurel
at the side of the pond, which his uncle had cut down,

all but the main stem, so that she

moorage; for, before


this, the "Crusoe"

have safe
got adrift

one windy


into the middle

of the pond, and

it was difficult

to get

her back to shore the next


Edward and Lucy never allowed themselves to doubt
of its being very convenient to get across to the kitchen
garden, by means of a voyage in the Crusoe; and, to
please them, the gardener, when he gathered his pears
and apples, brought them all down to the side of the
pond, to be rowed over by Edward, though he con-
fessed to others that it would have given him very
little more trouble to have taken them round by land
all the way.
Mrs. Osborne, as she sat at work at the drawing-
room window, thought she had never seen anything
prettier than that little boat, going backwards and for-
wards with its freight of rosy apples and russet-brown
pears-Edward rowing, and Lucy steering-and the
bright-coloured little flag hanging at the stern. She
thought it look very pretty, and she rejoiced to see
her children so happy-saying to herself that she really
hoped the time had come for Edward to cure himself of
his one fault.
Bad habits, however, such as Edward's, are not to
be got rid of all at once; especially, as the desire to
seem to do right leads to the repetition of the fault. It
was a great grief to everybody when Edward again
forgot his promises of amendment, and did wrong in a
matter connected with the favourite boat, which had
given every one so much pleasure.
At the time of the building of the boat, Edward had
had a good deal to do with the purchasing of various
articles wanted for it, and when it was quite completed
he was sent into the town one day with Jack, the gar-
dener's boy, to settle for everything that had been
ordered and left unpaid. He had besides some com-
missions for his mother to get that day, some paper and
sealing-wax, and pens, arid a list of all the things to be
bought and paid for were given him, together with the


right sum of money that would be required. Now,
Edward and Jack had become great friends, and were
too fond, perhaps, of each other's company. Jack was
good-natured, but very ignorant, and because Edward
could tell him such nice stories about Robinson Crusoe
and Lord Nelson, he fancied Edward a great deal wiser
than he really was, and was more ready to be guided by
him than was quite safe, considering that the greater
part of his time belonged to his master. Several times
had Jack been in disgrace for neglecting his work
because he was with Master Edward, or when sent into
the town with Edward, for staying away too long. It
happened on this day we are telling of, that both Jack
and Edward remained away much longer than there was
any occasion for, so that every one at the Haven got
quite alarmed about their not returning, and Captain
Osborne was about preparing to set out in search of
them, when they made their appearance. It came out
that they had been tempted when in town, by the pre-
sence of a wild-beast show, in which there were lions
and tigers, and other animals that Jack had never seen.
They had both gone into the show, and had been in-
duced to stay much longer than they at first intended,
by the hope of seeing the animals fed. Jack told all
this very faithfully, and tried to take the blame on
himself, because Master Edward had, he said, been so
anxious for him to see the lions and tigers. But Cap-
tain Osborne did not excuse either Jack or Edward,
and was much displeased that they should have done
anything of the kind without permission. Jack was
ordered never on any pretence whatever to go out
again with Master Edward, and Captain Osborne said
something very angrily about not liking to have his
servants disturbed in their duty to him by his visitors.
Even after all this had been settled, and Edward had


been very seriously reproved by his mother, the whole
blame was not exposed of that afternoon's visit to the
town. Edward's mind was very uneasy about the
commissions and the money that had been given to him.
When required by his mother to give an account of the
money that he had spent in the town, he was confused
and embarrassed. It had been his own money which
had paid for the entrance of Jack and himself to the-
wild-beast show, but there ought to be a shilling left
to give back to his uncle, aud he had only threepence
remaining in his purse. It was found necessary to
apply to Jack for an explanation of this; and it was
after scratching his head several times that he said.
something about nuts and apples that they had bought
to give to the elephant and monkeys;" and then
Edward had to confess with many blushes and tears of
shame, that in this manner the missing halfpence had
been spent.
We will spare our readers the description of Captain
Osborne's deep displeasure at this exposure of Edward's
want of truth and honour; and we could not describe
his mother's grief. Lucy too-she left the room to
hide her tears, and did not hear all the angry and
bitter reproaches cast upon her brother by his uncle.
There seemed no chance of Edward ever regaining the
confidence and affection which he had lost, and Mrs.
Osborne saw plainly that she and her children must
not remain to be a cause of disturbance at the Haven;
for she called to mind that the latter had only been
invited to come, provided they could behave well.
Before that day was over, she had quite decided on
leaving the Haven, and had told Captain Osborne of
her intention. She told Edward and Lucy, too, that
the Haven was no longer to be their home, and that
they should return in town in another month; and she


did not scruple to point out to Edward that his conduct
was the cause of their giving up the pleasures and com-
forts that they were enjoying.
Lucy was quite frightened to see how Edward was
distressed at this announcement from her mother. He
kept in his own room for the whole of that day, and he
was very miserable. It was quite as well that this time
he should make no promises for the future, but it
grieved Edward more than anything to see that no one
asked him to do so. His mother had grown tired of
hoping that he would keep any promises of the kind,
and she knew that his uncle would place no reliance on
them. Lucy never once said "Do promise, Edward,
that you will be more particular in future," because she
said it only made matters worse to have these broken
promises to look back upon. At the same time Lucy
did believe that from this time forward Edward would
speak the truth on all occasions, and she told her
mother so.
"'When you come to think, mamma, how very
much he will grieve to leave the Haven, and the
SCrusoe;' and above all, to go away from Uncle
Osborne, whom he likes so much. Oh! I do think,
mamma, that he will always be careful in future."
From the time of this painful affair at the Haven,
all seemed changed in the once happy family party.
Edward and his uncle talked no longer together as
they were used to do, and Lucy, if she was merry for
a few minutes, was sure to see some grave look from
some one which reminded her of what had happened
and what was going to happen. Her mother now
wrote letters to town, and looked anxiously for
answers, and seemed to be arranging plans for the
future in her mind. As for Edward, each day seemed
to increase his sorrow and shame, as he saw his


mother's former grave and sorrowful looks quite fixed
on her countenance again, and at each little occurrence
that took place with regard to their leaving the Haven,
his own grew more sad. Preparations, too, for leaving
were made, which showed that there was no doubt
about his mother being in earnest. His schoolmaster
was told that he would leave in a month, and he knew
that Grace Martin's father had been written to about
their having the same lodgings in town that they lived
in before they came to the Haven. And if these
tokens of leaving grieved Edward, they did not the
less disturb his uncle. He never alluded himself to
their going away, and if any one else did so, he always
looked grave, and said nothing in reply. Once, when
he was walking round the garden with Lucy, he
showed her where he always threw down crumbs for
the robins at Christmas time, and added, "You will
see how they will pop out of this privet-hedge, where
they have their nests, to eat their roast beef and plum-
Ah but, uncle, I shall not be here then, you
know," said Lucy, in a low and sorrowful tone.
Her uncle said nothing, but Lucy thought he
grasped her hand tighter than he had done before
during the rest of their walk.
As the time fixed by Mrs. Osborne for leaving
drew near, both Edward and his uncle seemed more
sorrowful about it, and the latter made several attempts
to persuade Mrs. Osborne to change her mind; and
Edward, too, talked with his mother about it, and said
he thought that others ought not to suffer for his
"No, my dear Edward," said his mother; ""but
unfortunately it is always the consequence of mis-
conduct that others do suffer for it. It is my duty


to do the best I can to make you grow up a good
and honourable man; and I think that if you were
placed at a good school, and away from all the in-
dulgences of the Haven, it would be better for you,
Edward turned these words of his mother over in
his mind, and they gave him courage for what neither
his mother nor Lucy would ever have expected of him.
They were quite taken by surprise the next day, when
sitting with Captain Osborne, to see Edward come
into the room on his return from school, and going up
to his uncle, say in quite an open and courageous
"Uncle, I really am sorry and ashamed to think
that my behaviour is making us all go away from the
Haven. Don't you think, uncle, that I might be sent
away to school, and that then my mother and Lucy
could stay on with you? I think it would be the
best plan in the world, if you will only persuade my
"I do think it would be a good plan, Edward, and
the best way of all to settle the difficulty," said his
uncle; and he held out his hand to Edward, and added,
"" I am glad, too, to see that you are learning to speak
out and be straightforward, my boy; and I hope that
the day may come when you will see that a ship might
as well attempt to sail without either rudder or com-
pass, as for a man to go through the world without a
character for truth and honesty."
Captain Osborne, after this, had a long consulta-
tion about Edward with his mother; and this time he
really did persuade her to stay on at the Haven. It
was decided that Edward should become a boarder at
a school which was several miles off, which they knew
had a strict but kind and just master, and where he


would be allowed only to come home once a month.
Mr. Martin was written to, to say they were not going
to return to London; and preparations were now only
made for Edward's departure, and for providing him
with all that he would require at school.
During the fortnight previous to Edward's leaving
the Haven, Lucy was so busy hemming pocket-hand-
kerchiefs, and stitching wristbands for him, that she
had hardly time to think about how she should feel
when he was gone; and she tried, too, to keep up
Edward's spirits about leaving them, and to persuade
him it would be for the best in the end.
"After all, Edward, it is only a month before you
will see us again," said she, as Edward stood on the
bank of the pond, looking at the Crusoe with very
melancholy looks "and, anyhow, uncle says the
' Crusoe' must be laid up for the winter, and not used
any more for some months."
The parting with Edward, was not, however,
without tears from Lucy, though Edward bore it
very well. The Haven seemed very dull the next
day; and perhaps it was a little sadness in Lucy's
manner that made her uncle say, that he hoped she
did not regret that her mother had not gone back to
"Oh no, uncle," said she, "I should like to stay
at the Haven all my life, for I am very happy here;
and I never wish to go to London, except to see Grace
Martin; but I should like to see Grace Martin again
very much."
Only a week after this, Lucy was surprised one
morning when she got up and looked out of the win-
dow, to see her uncle very busy with the flag-staff.
He was hoisting the flag, which was only done when a
visitor was expected at the Haven. Who could be


coming there that day ? As Lucy wondered, she also
thought to herself how very pleasant the Haven would
look to any one who might see it for the first time that
day, though it was November. The sun was shining

so brightly on the many coloured leaves of the



and the scarlet berries

so brilliant

among the

of the mountain ash

different shades

yellow, gold-colour
of all the chrysa




to say -nothing



still in

Nothing was said about a visitor, however, at
breakfast, but soon after, Uncle Osborne set off in his

gig for the town.
"I do think uncle must be going
one from the railway station," said

to fete

-n some
to her

"We shall see,"
cleared out the cage
glass with water; an


her mother.

of her canary, and



d she fed the chickens,


gave some peas to the pigeons, and then sat down to
work. She had not worked long before the gate bell
rang. She looked up, and could see between the
bushes a part of the grey mare, and the corner of a
brown hair trunk, which projected from the splash-

board of the gig.

" Run

out and meel

t your


said her

In the hall, the

number of



asked who

for Poll was

"HIow dy'e
pretty well."
Uncle 0

servant wa
what si
had com<



said in reply,
was not to be

her very

do"--"glad to see you-hope


was bringing

a short person-in a bonnet-a


some one in-
little girl-Could



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