Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Alice Leighton
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: Alice Leighton, or, A good name is rather to be chosen than riches : a tale for the young
Title: Alice Leighton, or, A good name is rather to be chosen than riches
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00027932/00001
 Material Information
Title: Alice Leighton, or, A good name is rather to be chosen than riches a tale for the young
Alternate Title: Good name is rather to be chosen than riches
Physical Description: 72 p. : ill. (some col.) ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Cupples, George, 1839-1898
Thomas Nelson & Sons ( Publisher )
Publisher: T. Nelson and Sons,
T. Nelson and Sons
Place of Publication: London ;
Edinburgh ;
New York
Publication Date: 1874
Copyright Date: 1874
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Pride and vanity -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Grandparents -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Orphans -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Brothers and sisters -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1874   ( rbprov )
Bldn -- 1874
Genre: Prize books (Provenance)   ( rbprov )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
United States -- New York -- New York
Statement of Responsibility: by Mrs. George Cupples.
General Note: Frontispiece printed in colors.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00027932
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: notis - ALG5289
oclc - 50514290
alephbibnum - 002225017

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Half Title
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Alice Leighton
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
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    Back Matter
        Page 73
        Page 74
    Back Cover
        Page 75
        Page 76
Full Text


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The Baldwin Library
I Univerity





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Sztalte for the Bomug.





-- I-


;I.. 'LICE LEIGHTON was about to leave
""her home for the first time in her life;
:' and though she was going to live in a
beautiful house in the country, at a
season when it is most delightful, she
could scarcely keep from crying when
she thought of it. Alice's father had just died;
and having lost her mother a year before, she and
her brother Willie were to be separated, and sent
to live with strangers. Willie was going to a
boarding-school, and Alice to her maternal grand-
papa and grandmamma. She had never seen
them; for Mrs. Leighton had married against
her father's wishes, and they had had little
intercourse with her afterwards, and lived at


a great distance away in the north of Eng-'
"I wish I could stay with you always, dear,
kind Aunt Emily," said Alice to her Aunt Leigh-
ton, who had kept house for them since their
mother's death.
"And so do I, darling," replied Aunt Emily,
trying to appear cheerful. You know how glad
Uncle Charles would have. been to have you with
us; but when grandpapa wrote, he wished you
to stay with him. We thought it would be far
more to your advantage to go there. Grandpapa
is a rich man, you know, dear, and Uncle Charles
has a hard struggle to get ends to meet, with his
large family. My poor child, I feel the separa-
tion as much as you can do-it is hard to part
with you." And Aunt Emily laid her face against
Alice's and wept bitterly.
But, Aunt Emily, God, who lives everywhere,
will be with us still. See how his star is shin-
ing down upon us !" said Alice, pointing to the
evening star. "Come, don't cry, aunty. Every
night we shall look out at the moon and stars and
think of each other. But won't you come to see
me sometimes, Aunt Emily? "
"I can't say, dear. You know grandpapa was


angry with mamma for marrying papa, and he
may not like me to come near you."

I A.



"Yes," said Alice; "mamma used to tell me
the story. How grandpapa wished her to marry
Mr. Clare, who afterwards married Aunt Lucy.
You see the estates -joined, and so mamma would
have been very rich. But she chose papa instead,
though he was then only a curate; and I think
it was very noble of her, though I daresay she
felt very sorry to be forced to disobey her parents.
I am sure mamma could not have been happier if


Uncle Clare had got her instead of Aunt Lucy,
for papa was so good and kind. And, Aunt
Emily, do you know that mamma, after she. had
told me the story, wrote in my Bible, under my
name, the verse from Proverbs xxii. 1, 'A good
name is rather to be chosen than riches, and lov-
ing favour rather than silver and gold.' I'm sure
dear papa was better than all the gold in the
world; and though he had no money, everybody
loved him."
Well, dear, I hope that you will always keep
that verse in- remembrance, and show your grand-
papa that though poor papa could not give you
riches, he has instructed and led ,you to look after
the better riches that can never be taken from
"I suppose it will be some time before Willie
returns, aunt," said Alice; "might I go over to
the mill to see nurse ? "
"Certainly, my dear," replied Aunt Emily;
"and if you like to stay there to tea, I shall send
Willie over when he comes home."
Oh, that will be indeed delightful," said Alice.
Martha promised to show me the new poultry
her father, the miller, brought home last week.
She offered to give me a pair of chickens, aunt, of


her new brood, but I suppose I couldn't take
them with me."
"No, dear," replied Aunt Emily, "you had
better not take any more pets. Grandmamma
has been very kind in allowing you to keep
Watch, and your kid Jumper."
"Oh dear, wouldn't it have been dreadful if
we had had to part with Watch? He would
have broken his poor heart, I feel sure; and as
for Jumper, I really think he would have missed
me very much."
"Perhaps Martha would take care of your pet
chickens for you," said Aunt Emily. "After you
have been with .your grandmamma for a little,
she may allow you to have them; and I am sure
the miller or some of the men about will take the
trouble to send them to you."
I am so glad you think so," said Alice; "and
I am certain dear Martha will take very good
care of them. I cannot help crying every night
in my bed, when I think I shall never see my
dear chickens again. The going away is not such
a dreadful affair now; it was so at first, though.
I sometimes think I never can go away; that I
shall have to be taken to the station by main


"That would be rather unreasonable, I must
say," said Aunt Emily, laughing. Poor Uncle
Charles was terribly distressed to witness your
burst of grief when he read your grandmamma's
letter. I think he had half a mind to write and
say No to the invitation."
I wish he had," said Alice; "for though it
does not look quite so bad now, I'd rather live
with you and dear Uncle Charles, even if I had
to give up keeping every one of my pets."
"Well, then, be off with you now," said Aunt
Emily, giving her niece a hearty embrace. "If
.you stand chatting there all day, what is to be-
come of the packing ? "
When Alice reached the mill, she found the
miller busy at work, but learned from I;im that
her friend Martha had gone to the spring for
water. Alice was not long in running down,
the bank at the back of the mill where the spring
was, and, as she expected, found Martha leaning
against a rock, evidently in what is called a brown
study. The jar was running over, but she paid
no attention to it; and it was only when Alice
came close up to her, and touched her on the
shoulder, that she became aware of her presence.
"Why, what are you dreaming about now,


Martha?" said Alice, laughing at the start of sur-
prise Martha gave.

"Oh, what a fright you have given me, miss !"
said Martha; "and yet I was doing nothing but
thinking of you and Master Willie."
"And what were you thinking about?" said
Alice, seating herself on the bank, while she made
room for her friend.
"Well, you see, miss, ever since mother came
home and told me you were going away, I just
can't believe it, that I can't, and I keep turning
over in my mind all sorts of plans to prevent you
going away."
"Now, I know you look for a fairy in every


harebell and lily," said Alice, laughing, "and
have all sorts of stories made up in your head,
and look upon me as an ill-used princess, and my
grandmamma and grandpapa as the ogres. Now
confess, Miss Martha, I have guessed right."
"I'm not going to tell you what I think," re-
plied Martha, laughing also.
Well, don't let us waste another moment on
the subject of my going away," said Alice.
"Aunt says we may stay to tea if your mother
will have us, and Willie is coming in a few
When they reached the cottage-door they found
Willie had arrived, and was busily engaged teach-
ing their dog Watch to go through some military
exercise. Willie had put his cap on the dog's
head, and placed a stick between his paws, and
was in the act of hanging his coat round the
animal, when the girls came up.
"Oh you funny creature," said Alice, dropping
down on her knees before Watch, who seemed
quite pleased with himself, "you shall have a
nice drink of milk for being so obedient. But,
Willie, don't keep him in that position long, in
case it tires his old legs."
"Well," said Willie, since you have behaved



so well this time, I'll let you off, old dog; and
the moment Watch was released he bounded away


barking and yelping. "Ah, Master Watch," said
Willie, laughing, "it's easy to be seen you prefer
to be a dog to a soldier, you foolish fellow."
"And don't you think Watch is right, sir ?"
said Martha. "It must be a terrible thing to be
a soldier!"
"I don't see why it should be terrible," said
Willie; "but that is perhaps because I am a boy,
and mean to be a sailor some day; and sailors
run just as much risk of their lives as soldiers."
"Heyday," said a voice from the open parlour
window, "what's this about soldiers and sailors ?
come away in, hinny, and let me hear all about it."
"Oh, never mind, nurse dear," said Alice ; "it's
only some nonsense of Willie's. We are to stay
to tea, if you please, and I want Martha to show me
the new cow before we come in; please, may she?"
"Certainly, my dear," said Mrs. Cursom, the
miller's wife, and Alice's foster-mother; run
away now, and the tea will be ready on your
Mysie the cow was in the act of munching up
some nice sweet -vegetables when the children
found her, and she was so tame that she allowed
Alice and Martha to clap and stroke her ever so
often, and ate the grass they pulled for her out


of their hands. When they had tired her quite
out with their kindness and attention, she lay
down, and refused to eat another particle till she
had duly digested what she had already eaten; so
there was nothing left for the children to do but
leave her to chew the cud in peace.
-', i-


There was no end to the amusements about the
old mill, however. Martha's new chickens were
visited, and the basket with the three newly-arrived
kittens in the barn, and then the mill itself. It was
always, and had ever been, the most favoured spot
to the two children, and Martha their companion.
How often they had played in and about it, watch-
ing the wheel revolving round so steadily, if lazily,
and the flour coming sifting, sifting down, like a


brooding snow-storm. Alice felt ready to cry
when she realized for the first time that this was
really her last visit to the dear old place, and she
felt thankful when Mrs. Cursom's cheery voice
called them from the doorway to come in, for the
tea was ready.


Alice could not help saying to her aunt that
night, she wished the day for their going away
would either never come at all, or that it would
arrive and find her so very sound asleep that she
would not know when she had said good-bye.
"It is so dreadful, aunt, to think we are looking
at the old places for the last time, perhaps, and
saying good-bye to all our dear friends who were
so fond of mamma and papa."


When Alice was dressed next morning, she
opened her window, when there hopped in, just
as she had expected, a tame thrush that her
brother Willie had brought home one day. It
was then a mere fledgeling, and had fallen from
its nest, but Alice was very careful of it, and


watched over it constantly till it was able to fly.
Some of her companions said it was very foolish
of her to give it its liberty after taking so much
trouble with it; but Alice knew that a thrush
could not, like a canary, make itself happy in a
(337 2


cage, and it pained her to see how it fluttered
against the wires, trying to make its escape; so
one day, when she was quite certain its wings
were strong, she opened the window, and away it
flew up into the bright sunshine, and was soon
lost to sight amongst the trees that surrounded
her father's vicarage. Alice could not help feel-
ing sorry to part with it, and a little hurt at its
gladness to escape after she had done so much to
make it happy; but the next morning, what was
her surprise to find it tapping at her window with
the greatest impatience for admittance No one
after that could doubt that her thrush was grate-
ful; and every morning he paid her a visit, and
for an hour at a time would keep flying in and
out, and perched on her hand, and be carried
down-stairs to breakfast. On this particular
morning, Alice had a good cry before going down,
when she thought how disappointed poor little
Billy would be when he found her away; but,
remembering how she had promised her Uncle
Charles the night before to be brave for her kind
Aunt Emily's sake, she bathed her eyes, and ran
out to look after her poultry and her numerous
It was a pretty sight to see her as she stood



'- ____- -

among the eager, hungry fowls, some flying upon
the basket of grain she carried, and pecking con-


fidently out of it. So thought her Uncle Charles,
at least, as he paused from taking his morning
stroll, and leaned over the poultry-fence to ex-
change a good-morning greeting with his little
"Now, I call that too bad," he said, smiling-
"to have favourites. What must be the feelings
of the others at this moment to see that impu-
dent hen so highly favoured ?"
"But this is Nell, uncle," said Alice, laughing.
"None of the hens would ever dream of being
jealous of Nell."
"And why should they not be jealous of Nell,
pray?" inquired Uncle Charles.
"Because, uncle, she was papa's pet," said
Alice, the tears rising almost unconsciously to her
eyes, as she recollected how fond he was of it,
and how the fowl returned his attention by
coming daily to his room window, and into the
room when she could, strutting about in perfect
confidence that she was a welcome visitor. Uncle
Charles changed the subject as quickly as pos-
sible, and seemed glad when Willie called his
attention to something in another direction.
As there was still more than an hour before
breakfast would be ready, Alice strolled away


into the wood, where she met an old woman
gathering dead branches. She was called Dame
Adams; she kept a little school in the village,
and had been a particular favourite with Mr.
"Let me help you, Goody," said Alice, seeing
how it pained the .old woman to stoop down.
"Ah, you are just your father's child, surely,"
said the dame, laying her hand on Alice's bright
curls. "Always ready to help the poor body,
was the parson. But is it true, honey, that you
are going far away from us ? "
"Yes, dame; I am going to live with mamma's
father and mother, in the very north of England,
and that is a great many miles from here; and
Willie is going to a place near London to school;
and Aunt Emily is to keep Uncle Charles's
house,--so that we shall all be scattered over Eng-
"Thank you, dearie," said the old woman.-
"Folks like to hear the news about those they
are fond of; but what sort of people are your
mother's friends ? I have heard they have plenty
of money-as much as the squire here."
Oh yes; grandpapa is very rich," said Alice,
feeling for the first time proud of her rich rela,


tions. Mamma used to say that grandpapa's
house was a great deal larger than our squire's,
and that he had far more money; and Uncle
Clare, my Aunt Lucy's husband, has even more
money than grandpapa still."
"Ay, sure, my dear young lady," said Dame
Adams; but now, do see that these grand friends
of yours don't make you turn from the narrow
path your dear papa walked in. Money is very
useful, but it often brings a snare for the unwary,
and is apt to fill the heads of the young with
feelings of pride and vanity." Then, when she
had thanked Alice for her kind assistance with
the bundle of sticks, she bade her good-bye, and
Alice ran off home just in time for breakfast.
After breakfast, Aunt Emily, saying she and
their uncle would be busy, advised the children to
take their books out into the wood, as the weather
was so hot, and amuse themselves till she called
"Very well, auntie; we will go down to the
brook," said Alice,--"it is so cool there."
Willie flung himself down on the grass, but
did not seem inclined for reading; and after a
while, Alice too laid her book away, and sat
watching the water as it slowly glided along, or


listened to the sound of the birds and the hum
of the numerous insects.
Oh dear, I wonder if we shall ever see this
place again !" said Alice.


Of course we shall," replied Willie, stealthily
drawing his arm across his eyes, for he too had
been thinking of the pleasant home he was to
leave so soon. We will have to see it in our
dreams for the present," he added, trying to
laugh. Sailors, you know, often see their old
homes in their dreams; and so we shall do it too,
perhaps. But when I'm a man, I mean to come
back again and see the old place."
Oh dear, what a long time that will be !"
said Alice. "Must we really have to wait till
you are a man and I am a woman? Why, no-
body will know us, and all the old people will be
dead, and everything will be changed."
Nonsense," said Willie; "it won't be long at
all; I shall be a man very soon, for I mean to
learn my lessons very fast, and be done with
school. Then, you know, when I have no more
lessons to learn, I shall be a man, of course."
"I don't know if I should like to come back
only to see the place," said Alice. "There will
be strangers in the vicarage then."
Why, don't you know that our cousin, Robert
Leighton, means to have it when he is a man?"
said Willie, who was apt to think, if any one
simply intended to do such and such a thing, it


was a settled matter. We all know that Robert
is at the top of his classes in everything."
Willie was always so hopeful, that Alice never
liked to bring forward her own gloomy thoughts
to damp his spirits; and at that very moment,
as if to cheer her, a lark rose from the ground
opposite to where they were seated, and mounted

up into the blue sky, with a gush- of song that
sounded very like as if it meant to say, "God
cares for me; and why should you be sad !"
"I wonder if the larks sing as sweetly at our
new home," said Alice
They're much the same, I should think, all the
world over," replied Willie. It's not many I will


hear at school, though. I wonder if the boys ever
get leave to go into the country."
Oh, I should think so," said Alice. Why,
don't you remember Cousin Robert telling us of
the happy holidays, when the teacher went with
them exploring expeditions?"
"But that is different. Robert's school is in
"the country; now the one I am to go to is in a
Oh, don't let us indulge in gloomy thoughts,
dear," said Alice. "You know aunt often tells
us it is wiser to look on the bright side of the
picture. Let us enjoy ourselves as much as we
can while we are together, and I daresay we shall
find that our new homes are not so bad after all.
I wish I was going to school; I know it would
be such fun to have girls to play with. But
there is aunt calling us. We must say good-bye
to the brook for the present."

The day for them to leave the vicarage arrived
at last, but as they were not to set out till the
evening, Uncle Charles proposed that the two
children should go with him for a. last ramble
along the sea-beach, a little more than a mile off;
and as Aunt Emily thought the plan an excellent


one, they set out immediately after breakfast
Uncle Charles had always some amusing story to
relate; and so, in spite of the near prospect of
their separation, Alice and Willie were soon laugh-
ing as merrily as if school and grandpapas had

1 liii ,t4. S I'E

^B f __' ~~ -- _-


never been heard of The weather was really
charming, and the beach was strewn with quch
a variety of shells and other sea-side objects,
that the children could not resist the tempta-
tion of gathering them, though Willie said


he could not understand why they picked them,
as Aunt Emily had filled up every corner of the
boxes long ago. They then sat down to rest,
and to watch a small yacht that was sailing past.
"I mean to be the captain of a great ship,"
said Willie, poking the sand with his stick.
Do you indeed," said his uncle, laughing at
his grave face. Well, there is nothing like
making up one's mind in time, certainly; but
before one can be a captain, there are a great
many disagreeable steps to climb. How would
you like to get up in a dark morning and scrub
down decks, and clean out the pig and sheep pens,
and other disagreeable duties ?"
"Have sailors to do that sort of thing ?" asked
Willie, with a look of disgust. "Surely they
would never ask a gentleman's son to do such
dirty work?"
"Ah but, I beg your pardon, they would.
Were any one to bring such an excuse forward at
sea, I am afraid Jack Tar might take a pleasure
in laying on a little extra work, to knock the fine
gentleman out of him. But, seriously speaking,"
continued Uncle Charles, putting on a grave face,
" you are not thinking of trying what the life of
a sailor really is, my boy ?"


Willie hung his head for a moment, then looked
up into his uncle's face manfully. "Yes, uncle,
I do; Alice knows how I want to go to sea. I
hate the thought of going to that school; and if
I don't like it, I mean to-"
Not to run away, surely ?" said Uncle Charles,
with a comical look about his mouth. We
Leightons take a pride in thinking ourselves brave
fellows. I never heard of a cowardly Leighton
yet, and surely my nephew Willie is not going to
be the first. What! run away because school is
disagreeable I'm thinking, if you went to sea
to escape from that sort of thing, you would feel
yourself out of the frying-pan into the fire, as the
saying is."
"But I want to be a sailor so much, uncle,"
said Willie.
"Well, my boy, so you shall; but there is no
occasion to run away from school. To be a cap-
tain, you must have education; and were you to
run away just because you disliked your lessons
and teachers, why, you would be running away
from everything ever after. No, my boy; come
to me or to your grandpapa three years after this,
and tell your wishes openly, and we shall see that
you get a good ship. You are only ten now;


when you are thirteen, with grandpapa's influence
you could perhaps be admitted into the navy, but
never if you ran away. But come, we are for-
getting how time passes, and if we don't hasten,
Aunt Emily will be thinking we have run away
without bidding her good-bye."
When they reached the gate they found Aunt
Emily just preparing to set out in search of them ;
and after a hasty dinner, the carriage arrived that
was to take them to the station, and they were
whirled away. Alice discovered afterwards that
Uncle Charles had kept them out late on pur-
pose, so that there would be little time to think
of parting with Aunt Emily, who was not to
leave till the next week.
Alice stayed in London the next day and night,
till Willie had been placed at school; and then
Uncle Charles, after going with her part of the way,
left her in charge of one of her grandpapa's servants,
who had been sent with a carriage to meet her;
and after driving for many miles, she reached the
Hall," where her grandpapa lived. Alice felt, now
that she had got to the end of her journey, as if it
was all a dream; and she sat down by the open
window of'her little room, that she was told was her
own, and tried to realize that she was really never


to see the dear vicarage again, and that this beau-
tiful place was now to be her home, as it had
been her mamma's.
She was sitting watching the lovely sunset, and
the boats on the river that flowed through her
grandpapa's property, and thinking how sorry her

mamma must have felt never to have seen it
again, when she was interrupted by hearing the
door open, and turning round, she saw an old lady
standing looking at her. Both her grandpapa and
grandmamma, she had been told, were out when


she arrived, but the moment she looked round she
knew that this was her grandmamma; and there
was such a kind expression in her eyes, that Alice
sprang at once from her seat, and running towards
her, was soon clasped in her arms.
"My poor child, my Alice's little girl!" said
Mrs. Garnet, sitting down and taking Alice on
her knee. How was it you knew me, my
darling ?"
"Because you are so like my dear mamma, I
knew you must be grandmamma."
And were you very glad to come and live
with grandpapa and me, my darling? said Mrs.
Garnet, pressing Alice closely to her.
Alice had been taught to speak the truth in a
straightforward manner, and while many little
girls would have said, "Oh yes," Alice felt that
this would have been a piece of deception on her
part, for she had been really sorry instead of
glad to come to her grandmamma. She there-
fore simply said, "No, dear grandmamma; I felt
sorry to come, for I had to part with Aunt
Emily, who has been so good to us; and then
there was Willie, and my birds and poultry.
But now that I have seen you, I am very glad I
have come."


"I understand your feeling quite well, my
dear," said Mrs. Garnet; "but I hope you will
like us as well as you do your father's relations.
Now we must go down and see what grandpapa
has to say to his little grand-daughter."
Mr. Garnet was sitting in his favourite little
study, surrounded with book-shelves, filled with
books of all sorts and sizes. His chair was
drawn close to the fire, and he was wrapped in a
large cloak, as if it had been the middle of
winter, and he seemed so cross at being inter-
rupted, that Alice clung closer to her grand-
mamma's hand, and wished herself safely out of
his presence. "This is your little grand-daughter
come to pay you a visit," said Mrs. Garnet, in a
cheerful voice, as if to encourage Alice.
"Ah, I supposed so," said Mr. Garnet.
"What's your name, girl? I have forgotten
it, if I ever heard it."
When Alice had told him, he turned his face
away with a frown, as if the mention of her
mother's name seemed to recall, some unpleasant
recollection. In a few minutes Mrs. Garnet took
Alice away to her own parlour, where she told
her, that though her grandpapa did not seem
glad to see her, he was really very happy to
(337) 3


have her there, only he was not accustomed to
children, and was fretful, owing to his late ill-
"And now, my dear," said her grandmamma,
"perhaps you would like to go out before dinner
and see the grounds."
"I should like to go and see my kid Jumper,
grandmamma, please. I fear he and Watch will
feel lonely without me," said Alice, the tears
coming to her eyes.
"Oh, that will be a very good plan," said
Mrs. Garnet. "You run across the lawn to
where Dickson the gardener is working, and he
will show you where your kid has been placed.
But what was that you said about some pet birds
and poultry ? "
"I had to leave them at the mill," said Alice,
beginning to feel more and more at home with
her grandmamma. "Aunt Emily said it was so
kind of you to allow me to have Jumper and
our dog Watch, that we had better give up some
of our pets, lest it should be inconvenient for you
to have them."
"That was very sensible of your aunt," said
Mrs. Garnet; "but, notwithstanding, we musk
have all the pets brought here. I was very fond


of having all sorts when I was a little girl, and
indeed am as fond of my pet poultry as ever."
"Thank you, grandmamma, very much," said
Alice. Shall I write to Martha to-morrow ? her
father said he could send them by the coach
quite safely. I have some very lovely young
chickens, and then there is dear Nell, the tamest
and the prettiest hen you can imagine."
"Very well, then, that question is settled; we
shall have the fowls brought as soon as possible,"
said Mrs. Garnet, stroking her grandchild kindly
on the head. "Meanwhile," she continued,
laughing, "you had better run off and see if
that naughty kid is behaving himself. I am
told he is rather unruly."
Alice was not long before she had found out
where Watch's kennel had been placed, and, after
his excitement had somewhat abated, she un-
fastened his collar, and they ran off together to
look for Dickson. He was a very kindly dis-
posed person, and took Alice to the paddock
where Jumper had been secured.
"I hope you won't think we've been uncivil
to the poor animal, miss," said Dickson; "but
we had to do it, for he seemed determined to eat
up every shrub and bush about the place."


"Now, Jumper, I think that was very naughty
of you," said Alice, sitting down beside the kid,
while Dickson returned to his work; but the kid
seemed so glad to see her, and kept poking his
nose into her hand for the piece of bread she
generally had for him, that she soon saw a scold-
ing was quite thrown away. She gathered some
nice, pretty flowers and twined them round his
neck, while Watch lay at her side feeling a little
jealous of so much attention being paid to Mr.
Jumper; but in a little, when that naughty
animal had not only eaten up the flowers on his
own neck, but had insisted upon devouring those
his mistress had twined round her head, they
left him to his own meditations, and had such
a fine scamper in the nut-grove, that Watch
quite forgot his ill-nature. It did feel so strange,
though, to be playing without Willie, and Alice
was quite indignant at herself for being so happy
and appearing to have forgotten him so soon.
0 dear Willie," she cried, suddenly drop-
ping down on the grass, how selfish of me to
be playing and running about with Watch, when
you are so far away, and perhaps unhappy !"
Watch put his paw on her knee and licked her
face most affectionately, and did everything he


M i,
--. ..- ,


xiety to cheer her solitude. She bad been trying


/ .


not to cry all day, thinking if her grandmamma
caught her with red tear-stained eyes, she might
fancy she was very unhappy ; but this dernonstra-


tion on the part of poor Watch overcame her, and
she wept bitterly.
Hollo !" said a voice at her ear, and look-
ing up, there stood her grandpapa, who had been
taking his usual walk before dinner, attended by
his servant. "Heyday! and what's the matter
now ? he said a little sternly, and bringing his
stick down sharply on the ground. Has the
dog hurt you ? or what is it ? "
"Oh no, grandpapa," said Alice, forcing her
tears back bravely; "Watch wouldn't hurt me
for the world. I was just stupid, and began to
think about my brother, and wondered if he was
missing me, or if he was unhappy."
"I daresay, if we could see him at this
moment," said Mr. Garnet, in a less stern tone of
voice, "he would be engaged in a game of cricket
or football, and not thinking of you at all."
"Oh, I hope he is, sir," said Alice, brightening.
"Hope he is what ? said Mr. Garnet; "play-
ing at cricket, or thinking about you-which ? "
"Playing at cricket, grandpapa," said Alice,
her blue eyes looking ip confidingly into his.
"Willie is of rather a gloomy, desponding dis-
position, and I would rather he was playing at
some nice game than thinking of me.; because


then all the other thoughts will be sure to come
back, and he will be very miserable."
"What other thoughts ? inquired her grand-
papa, looking less stern than before.
Thoughts about our dear old home, and papa,
and Uncle Charles, and aunt, and about Martha,
and all the people who were good to us, and-
and-; but here Alice began to cry afresh, and
buried her face in Watch's neck, who, thinking
his mistress was being ill-used, growled at Mr.
Garnet rather fiercely.
Come, come," said the old gentleman in a
very kind tone, "we must have no more crying;
such pretty eyes were never made for tears. Come
along and take a walk with me; and James," he
added, turning to his servant, "will get you some
of the ripest nuts to be found-nothing like nuts
for chasing away the megrims."
By the time dinner was announced, Alice had
made wonderful progress with her grandpapa,-
though, as time passed, she found that it was
only on very rare occasions he allowed himself to
be so friendly as he was that first day of their
A month having passed away very pleasantly,
Alice being a great deal with her grandmamma,


and seeing very little of her grandpapa, a letter
arrived from Willie's schoolmaster, to say that
fever had broken out in the school, and it would
be necessary to send him home for a short time
to avoid the risk of infection. Alice was wild
with excitement when she heard that she was to
see her brother Willie so soon, and she wished
her grandmamma had not invited her young
cousins, the Clares, to spend a week or two with
them. She had only seen them twice for a short
time; but they did not appear to be very agree-
able children, and seemed to consider themselves
of so much consequence. The only one she liked
was Lucy, a girl of her own age, who had re-
proved her sisters and brothers for laughing when
Alice said she could not ride, that her papa had
never kept a pony for her, or a horse for himself
either. Alice was afraid that Willie might get
into mischief with his cousins, for he was easily
led, and they seemed to be very tricky boys.
When Willie arrived, however, Alice had him
to herself for three whole days, during which,
while they wandered over the beautiful grounds
together, she had many opportunities of advising
him to be careful of his behaviour when their
cousins came. Willie was very fond of his sister,


and had always been accustomed to be guided by
her, so that he readily promised to do his best to
keep out of mischief; for, as he said, "I don't
want to get into disgrace with grandpapa; he
looks cross enough now, and might turn out a
regular Bluebeard if he were provoked."
There were five of the little Clares-three
girls and two boys-and along with Alice and
Willie they made a goodly company. Tom and
Charles were really handy fellows, and, having
got permission from their grandmamma, fastened
a thick rope to two great trees in the orchard,
where they went to swing every morning after
breakfast. Alice would have enjoyed the plea-
sure of having so many young companions, but
they were constantly quarrelling amongst them-
selves about who was to have the next swing;
and often they would join amongst themselves to
make ill-natured remarks about Alice's former
home, and what they were pleased to style her
poor relations, meaning her dear Aunt Emily and
Uncle Charles. When they had questioned her
closely about her former life, she had no idea
they would ever be so rude as to turn it all into
ridicule; but seeing at last they did it with the
intention of provoking her, she remained quite


quiet, and bore it so sweetly, that in the end her
cousins began to feel ashamed of themselves, and

*. . ,' -'. . .-
..-..-_,, ; .

'", i


left her alone. Willie, however, did not bear it
so quietly, but would retaliate with much spirit,


and distressed his sister by losing his temper, and
offering to fight them both, one after the other.
"Don't speak to me, Alice," he would say; "I'm
determined to fight them-I know I could do it
easily; I shall not stand their taunts about our
poor relations much longer. Though Uncle Charles
is not rich, isn't he a gentleman ? and I should like
to know if Dick and Robert Leighton would tease
a fellow as these Clares do. I tell you what, they
re nothing but cowards, with all their riches."
Whether this was true or not, Alice could not
say; but she generally managed to appease Willie's
wrath in some way, and seemed to think it would
be better to leave him alone.
Another thing that vexed her, they were never
done teasing Jumper the goat, and had taught
him to butt at people; so that her grandmamma
was seriously annoyed, and spoke of having him
sent away if he did not turn over a new leaf
and mend his manners. One day when they were
in the wood, Jumper, having gnawed the rope
that was fastened to his collar, made his escape,
and found his way to where they were all playing
in the wood. Oh dear, how has he got off? "
cried Alice, holding out her hand to catch him; but
Jumper was so determined to enjoy his liberty,


now that he had secured it, that he whisked
away and trotted off further into the wood.


Away ran the children in different directions
to catch the truant; but the faster they ran, the
faster went Jumper, making off into a new quarter
just when they thought they had him secure.
Twice Charles had firm hold of him ; but Jumper
pushed him with his horns and made his escape,
leaving that young gentleman in a very bad
temper. Alice was close to him on the last oc-


casion, and said she was sorry Jumper had been
so rude.
"Rude!" replied Charles; "that is a pretty
word. He's a horrid brute, and that's what he is.
If I get hold of him, I'll kill him "
At that moment his eyes fell upon a nest with
several eggs in it, half hidden under the root of a
tree. But Alice had seen it too, and she darted
forward and caught hold of his arm, cryirig out,
" Oh, please, Cousin Charles, spare the poor birds;
it is so cruel to take the eggs from them."
You just mind your own business," said
Charles rudely. I'll take the nest if I like, and
smash the eggs if I like, and do just as I please
about it."
Oh, but you mustn't, really," said Alice, hold-
ing him firmer than ever; "it is so wicked. God
will be angry with you if you do it. Mind the
birds are his; and papa often said God must be
angry if we harm the poor birds."
Stuff and nonsense!" said Charles. "You
let me alone, and mind your own business." And
saying that, he tried to push her back, while he
attempted to stamp on the nest with his foot.
"No; you must not do it," said Alice, clinging
to him, for at that moment she overheard a plain-


tive "tweet, tweet," and knew that this was the
poor anxious bird watching over the fate of her
pretty eggs.
But I say I shall," said Charles in a great
passion, turning fiercely round upon his cousin.
" Keep off; let go my arm, else I'll make you."

As Alice was as determined as he was, she
paid no attention to his threats, and again
entreated him not to be a cruel-hearted boy.
" What has the bird done to you that you should
be so cruel? she said. Do let it alone, else I
must tell grandimamma."


Oh yes, Miss Tell-tale, you will be ready
enough to do that," said Charles; and with a
great swing of his body and a push he thrust
Alice away, who fell with a crash into a prickly
bush, which scratched her face and arms most
severely. That was not the worst, for when she
tried to get up she found her foot was badly hurt,
and so painful, that she feared it was broken.
When Charles saw that he had hurt her severely,
he began to whimper and cry, You'll be telling
grandmamma upon me, and getting me into a
fine scrape. But look here, Alice, I didn't mean
to do it, and if you'll only not tell on me, I'll
promise never to harm another bird or touch with
its nest. Oh dear, how white you are getting !
What am I to do ?"
"If you could help me to rise, and let me lie
down on the grass, there," said Alice, though
scarcely able to speak, and then run for some-
body to help me home."
Charles lifted her up as carefully as he could,
and managed to carry her to the place she
pointed out; but she was so pale, and seemed to
be suffering so much pain, that he did not like
to leave her alone; but she assured him it was
the only plan.


I'll run the whole way," said Charles; "and
I'll get Dickson to come with the wheel-barrow.
And, I say, Alice, will you not tell upon me this
time ? I'm sorry,-I really am."
Alice gladly promised; and when he was fairly
off, she lay and watched the two birds hopping
quietly out and in, tweet, tweeting in the greatest
delight to find their nest and precious eggs
secure and safe. "I'm so glad he didn't break
them," said Alice. "Poor birdies !"
When Charles returned with Dickson and the
wheel-barrow, Alice was asleep, and feeling much
better. Her foot was sprained, but not so bad
as she thought it was. After Dickson had
wheeled her home, and she had got it nicely
bandaged by the housekeeper, the pain had greatly
subsided, and though she could not run about
for some days, she was always able to be out of
doors, and join in any quiet game. To Charles's
great delight, she did not tell how the accident
happened, and was so kind about it, and so frank
and pleasant to him, notwithstanding what had
passed, that he declared she was a jolly girl, and
worth half-a-dozen of his own sisters, who never
would have kept it secret.
One morning their grandmamma called them
(336) 4


into her room, and asked them how they would
like to make a short excursion with her to the

[, : -.


wood at the foot of the park. This was a great
treat, for it was not often that their grandmamma


felt strong enough to walk so far; and grandpapa,
it seemed, had expressed a wish to come and
meet them, which was certainly an extraordinary
thing for him to do.
When they reached a part of the wood that
was shady, and had selected a soft mossy bank
for their grandmamma to sit on, the children
flung themselves- down on the grass at her feet
to listen to one of her nicest stories, while Tom
and Charles, who preferred hunting for a rabbit
they had started, ran off after it. They were
away so long that their grandmamma began to
be afraid they had got into some mischief, and
might not be back in time to meet their grand-
papa, and Willie was just preparing to go in
search of them, when they came running round
the corner, holding up their hands and shouting
as if something dreadful was coming after them.
"What's the matter? what is it?" cried
Willie, running forward, while Mrs. Garnet and
the girls rose up in the greatest terror, fancying
a bull had escaped from the park, or some-
thing equally alarming was the matter. When-
ever the boys saw the state of terror every one
had been thrown into, they flung themselves
down on the grass, laughing and screaming with


delight at the capital joke they had played upon
them. Mrs. Garnet was really very angry at

I .,-. L

' i~ .


their deception, and said that they had not only
taken away all her pleasure in their little ex-


cursion, but she could never trust them alone
with the girls. My dear boys," said Mrs.
Garnet seriously, a joke is all very well in its
way, but a practical joke, played for the purpose
of frightening people, is not only cowardly, but
may cause the greatest mischief. There are many
instances of this having happened, and I shall
certainly speak to your papa if ever I hear of
your doing such a thing again."
Oh, we often play practical jokes at home,
grandmamma," said Tom, laughing. Papa
never forbids us. Don't you remember, Charlie,
how we dressed ourselves in a white sheet and
stood in the corner of the staircase, intending to
frighten nurse, when who should come up but
old Mrs. Brownlow, who happened to be staying
with us at the time. My, didn't she scream and
down she went on her knees, and then rolled over
and over to the bottom of the stair."
Yes; how we did laugh when we got to our
own room," said Charles. But the best of the
joke was, nobody knew who did it. Mrs. Brown-
low insisted it was a real ghost; but nurse said
she knew it was Tom, only I declared he had
never left the nursery. Mrs. Brownlow believed
nurse's story, and because papa would not punish


us, she packed up her boxes, and off she went in
the greatest state of indignation."
And did you never tell her you did it, and
beg her pardon ?" said Willie.
"Of course not," replied Tom. "Beg her
pardon! what an idea; why, Mrs. Brownlow is
as poor as a church mouse, and was very glad to
be invited to stay with us, I can tell you. As
papa said afterwards, she would be the greatest
loser; and such a poor creature had no business
to give herself such airs."
It really distresses me to hear you speak in
that way of one of my oldest friends, and a good
woman," said Mrs. Garnet. "My dear boy,
every one cannot be rich, but they can be good;
and if you are not good, all the riches in the
world will never make you happy. I am certain
your papa must have been much grieved at this
annoyance to his guest, for she was an old friend
of his mother's, as well as mine."
But we did not mean to frighten her," said
Tom; "and though she did tumble to the foot
of the stairs, she only scratched her old nose a
little, and tore that black silk of hers that she
seems to have worn for ever."
They were interrupted by their grandpapa


coming up sooner than was expected; and as
their grandmamma felt rather unwell with the
fright she had got, she proposed going home
at once; but the day being still early, the
three boys were permitted to go off by them-
selves for a ramble into the wood, while the
girls walked home, gathering flowers as they
The three boys, after scrambling through the
wood, came upon an open field; and they deter-
mined to cross it and enter the wood at the
other side, instead of going through the wood
itself. This was Willie's proposal; but he did
not know that this field belonged to a farmer,
and not to his grandfather, and that Farmer
Nubbs was a very peculiar man, and would prose-
cute any one found trespassing. The two Clares
were well aware of this, but it made the project
all the more delightful to them; and, as Tom
whispered to Charles, the blame would fall upon
Willie, for he asked them to do it. When they
had got to the other side of the field their progress
was stopped by a wooden fence that had been
newly put up round a small orchard. On look-
ing for a place to climb over, they came upon an
apple-tree, laden with the most beautiful apples


imaginable, the branches of which leant over into
the field in a most tempting manner.
Well, there is a beauty," said Willie; "but
isn't it strange that grandpapa should have an
orchard so far from home? I suppose we may
take a few ?"
"Of course we may," said Charles, swinging
himself up into the tree. "We are allowed to
take apples from the home orchard, you know;
and if we weren't, who's to miss them from such
a thick tree as this Here goes; hold your cap,
Willie pulled off his cap, and held it out for
the fruit as Charles pulled it; but when they
were filling the third one, a man popped his
head round the corner. Tom, who saw him first,
cried out to Charles; and taking hold of Willie's
arm, .1r._'-,.l him across the field. "Why do
you run away ? asked Willie in astonishment.
And when Tom had explained the true state of
affairs, Willie turned deliberately back, saying
that lie would explain to the man the mistake
they had made, and give him back the apples.
"What a muff you are," said Charles, catching
hold of him by the arm. "The man will never
believe you, but will take you to grandpapa and


have you punished. We had no business here at
all; grandpapa has often warned us never to go
near Farmer Nubbs's field."


"But I knew nothing of this; why did you
not tell me ? said Willie.
"Well, that is a good joke," said Tom, with a
sly wink to Charles; "we did tell you, but all
we could say or do you would -not believe us, and
persuaded us to follow you. No; my advice is
to deny we ever were near the field."
"Ybs, that's the best way," said Charles.


"Don't you remember the scrape we got into'
before with Farmer Nubbs, and how we collared
two of the village boys who happened to be in the
wood at the time "
"Yes," said Charles, laughing. "Will you ever
forget how they yelled when the farmer brought
his cane down on their backs ? I couldn't help
feeling sorry for them; but it was better to see
the strokes coming on their backs, than to feel
them on ours."
"I can't understand you," said Willie. "You
first declare you told me I knew about this field
being a farmer's, and now you say you allowed
two boys to take a thrashing instead of you.
You surely are not such downright liars as
"Come, sir, give us none of your names," said
Charles angrily. "The fellows were poor boys,
and we gave them a shilling a piece after to pay
for the drubbing. There isn't the slightest harm
in telling a lie to escape from a thrashing."
"Then all I've got to say is, that you are not
only a liar, but the biggest coward I ever met
with; and in case you get somebody else into
the same scrape again, I shall at once go over to
the man, who is still looking over the fence, and


tell him all about it. As Uncle Charles says, a
cowardly Leighton was never seen yet."
"The idea of him being proud of his name,"
said Tom. "These beggarly Leightons, as I've
heard grandpapa call them often. But let me
tell you that we shall never open our lips to you
again if you get us into disgrace. A fellow de-
pendent on his grandpapa giving himself such
airs "
Willie ran off at once, and paying no attention
to his cousins' cries, was soon seen talking with
the farmer. Tom and Charles thought it best to
make their escape at once, planning as they went
along how they could throw the entire blame on
to Willie's shoulders.
After reaching home, Alice and Lucy took their
grandmamma's dog Fido out for a walk by the
river, where Willie found her lying under a shady
tree listening to Lucy reading. When Willie
came up Alice saw at a glance that something
was wrong, and making an excuse to Lucy, she
beckoned to him to follow her. When they were
in her own little bed-room, Willie told her all
that had happened, and further, that the farmer
would not believe his story, but said he would
come over and speak to -his grandpapa that very


afternoon. "And so you see, Alice," said Willie,
"if Tom and Charlie insist that they told me not


to go, grandpapa may believe them, and I shall
be punished."
b~e punishled."


But, Willie dear, you are surely not afraid of
the punishment," said Alice, stealing her arm
round his neck. "You remember what papa
used to say about telling the truth under any cir-
cumstances. I would rather be punished for
telling the truth than for telling a lie. It is
quite true what Dame Adams said, that riches
often make people proud and overbearing."
"Yes," said Willie, with a shake of the head;
" these Clares are overbearing enough, and what's
more, they are downright cowards, besides being
low and mean--telling me I was poor, as if I
could help it. Well, I would rather be what I
am, than rude and mean, like them."
Hush, dear," said Alice, trying to soothe him.
"We can't help having little money; but, you
know, a good name is better than riches. Come,
let us go to grandpapa's room and tell him all
about it; I'm sure that will be the best way."
It was not such an easy matter telling his
story to his stern-looking grandfather; but with
Alice holding his hand to encourage him, it was
told at last,, and in such a way that his cousins
were screened as much as possible. When Mr.
Garnet asked Willie if his cousins were with him,
he answered that he would rather not speak of


them, because they might think him a tale-
bearer; he only wished to say that he was sorry
he had trespassed, but he did it in ignorance.
His grandpapa simply said, "Very well; I shall
have you all up when the man comes." But
when they were about to leave the room, he
called them back and said, "By the way,
William, I mean to send you to another school
next week; it won't do for you to be losing
your time."
Had Willie heard this piece of news in the
morning, he would have felt very sorry to leave
his grandpapa's pleasant house, but now it was a
great relief to escape from his cousins; and being
a proud-spirited boy, the words they had used
had sunk deep into his heart, and he determined
not to be dependent on his grandfather longer
than was necessary.
"You don't seem sorry at the idea of going to
school," said his grandpapa, rubbing his chin, as
if he were trying to hide a smile.
"Yes, I am sorry, grandpapa," said Willie;
"but I am also glad to go."
"And how is that? Don't you get on with
your cousins I hope you have all been good


"I want to get back to school to finish my
,education, so that I may go to sea. Uncle
Charles said you would perhaps help me to be a
captain if I worked hard. Then Alice could stay
with me, and nobody could call her a beggarly
Leighton then."
"And who calls her by such a name now?"
said Mr. Garnet, with a deeper frown than usual.
But seeing that Willie did not want to answer, he
added--" You may go now; but come back'here
with grandmamma after dinner."
When they reached the terrace-where they
went to have a quiet talk till dinner-time-a poor
beggar-boy came up the walk, stealthily turning
his head from side to side, as if he was afraid
somebody would jump out upon him from one of
the bushes. Alice, seeing how frightened he was,
called to him to come forward; and searching in
her pocket, she brought out a sixpence, and held
it out towards him, asking him at the same time
what he was afraid of. The boy then told them
that his mother had sent him to ask for a little
more ointment for her sore leg; but he was afraid
of meeting the young gentlemen, as they always
flung stones at him. And the boy showed the
mark of a deep cut he had got the week before


from a stone thrown by the biggest of the

7 .,-F--.- .-


Alice made him sit down while she ran to look
for her grandmamma; and as the boy seemed to
be very much afraid of the Clares, Willie stayed
to protect him. In a minute or two after, Tom
and Charles came running round the corner; and
seeing the boy sitting on the stone-seat, they
made a rush towards him, crying out now they
had caught that young pauper who threw stones


at them. Wilhe told the boy not to be afraid,
but to sit quite still; and when Charles came
close upon them, Willie ran against him with all
his might, and sent him tumbling down the steps
of the terrace, where he lay yelling and screaming
as if he had been murdered. Tom for a moment
looked as if he intended to fight Willie there and
then; but seeing that his cousin was quite ready
for him, he ran off screaming for somebody to
come and help his brother.
Mr. Garnet's window looked out upon this
part of the terrace, and he had been a witness of
the whole affair. Calling out to Charles to hold
his tongue, he bade him bring his brother up to
his study; and desired Willie to follow, after he
had conducted the poor boy to the housekeeper's
room. In Mr. Garnet's room they found Farmer
Nubbs, who had just arrived : and Willie was
requested to repeat his story, which he did, in
almost the same words, without hesitation; and
none looking at his brave, open face could have
doubted that he was telling the truth. His
cousins were then asked what they had to say
for themselves; when they stoutly denied being
there at all, saying that Willie had made the
acquaintance of two of the village boys in the
(336) 5


wood, and had gone off with them. Both of
them insisted that this was true, and that they
had told Willie not to go near that part of the
wood, but he just laughed at them.
Well, young master," said Farmer Nubbs,
turning to Tom, "if your story be true, this little
gold chain must belong to the village boy who
was up the tree. I saw your cousin holding the
cap, which he doesn't deny; but I'm very blind
indeed if you weren't the same that pulled my
Tom and Charles stared at the chain in sur-
prise and dismay, for they knew that their grand-
papa would at once recognize his last birth-day
gift. So, seeing that they were found out, they
began to whimper and cry, making such ridicu-
lous excuses for themselves, that their grandpapa
became so angry with them he ordered them, not
only out of his presence, but to return home
When Willie was in his room, after his cousins
were gone, he could not help thinking what a
blessed thing it was for him he had such a good
sister. On looking out of the window, a bird
hopped upon a branch close to where he stood,
and began to sing very sweetly ; and Willie


listened to it, for it seemed to sing, A good name
is rather to be chosen than riches. And he
felt, oh, so glad! that he had followed Alice's
advice in going to his grandpapa at once to own
his fault.


That evening Alice and Willie found their
grandpapa seated in Mrs. Garnet's parlour instead
of being shut up in his study; and after telling
Willie how very much pleased he was with him
for telling the truth, even when he did not know
if his word would be believed, le opened a large


scrap-book, and entertained the two children
with a view of the contents till bed-time.
From that time Mr. Garnet became very fond
of his two grandchildren. And after Willie went
back to, school, he proposed that Alice should
become his pupil; and nothing seemed to please
him better than to sit in the little arbour, with
Alice on a low stool at his feet, explaining to her
a picture of some foreign country, and answering
her numerous questions.
A great happiness was in store for Alice; some-
thing she did not expect, or ever fancied would
"I wonder if you could keep a secret," said
her grandmamma one day, smiling.
Oh yes, I think I could," said Alice eagerly.
"I know papa used to trust me with a secret
sometimes, and I always kept it."
Very well, then'," said Mrs. Garnet, "I think
I shall venture to try you. We are going to
have a visitor here in a few days-somebody that
you love very dearly."
Oh, grandmamma," exclaimed Alice, clasping
her hands, while her eyes fairly gleamed with
excitement, "who is it ? Aunt Emily? Uncle
Charles ? or-"


But here Alice suddenly stopped, for it came
to her recollection that her grandpapa disliked all
her father's relations, and she blushed and was
covered with confusion.
Well, my dear, you needn't be so agitated,"
said Mrs. Garnet kindly, for you have guessed
correctly. It is your Aunt Emily; and when
Willie returns from school during the holidays,
grandpapa says we may invite your cousins, the
Leightons, to spend some of the time with you."
Oh dear, how happy I am !" said Alice. "I
feel inclined to laugh, and dance, and cry, and
sing; and I don't know what to do first. Aunt
Emily coming to see me Is it true, grand-
mamma--quite, quite true?"
"Yes, my dear, it is quite true," said Mrs.
Garnet, laughing. There is the answer she has
sent to grandpapa's invitation; for it was he who
invited her."
To-morrow !" exclaimed Alice ; is it to-
morrow she is coming ? Then I must get up
and dance, else my head will burst."
"Come, come !" said Mrs. Garnet; we must
be sober. I wouldn't have let the cat out of the
bag if it hadn't been I want you to help me
to put the blue-room in order for our expected


guest. Grandpapa wishes it to be very nice, for he
has formed a high opinion of your papa's sister."
Indeed she is very good," said Alice, begin-
ning to cry as she said she must do. Aunt
Emily is just the dearest, sweetest, and best aunt
that anybody ever had; and I know you will be
very fond of her, grandmamma, and so will she
be of you."
The blue-room was in the perfection of order
when Aunt Emily arrived ; and it did seem
pleasant to have the dear face bending over her
once more. And that night, when they retired
together to the blue-room-Alice having been
permitted to sleep there with her aunt-it did
feel like home to kneel at the old familiar knee,
and repeat her prayers as she had done in her
It seems like a dream," said Alice, when
they were in bed. "I half expect, when I awake
in the morning, to find it so."
"Does that feel like a dream?" said Aunt
Emily, slyly tweeking Alice's ear. "You go
to sleep, miss: you will find that I am some-
thing more substantial, and don't evaporate quite
so easily.-My precious darling," she suddenly
exclaimed, how thankful I was to hear from


your grandpapa such a good account of you and
Willie! It has made him wish he had not been
so harsh to your dear papa. How glad Uncle
Charles will be to hear it !"

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4i ll I"

S t.. 10. .


One day, when Alice was sitting learning her
verse out of her 'Bible to say to her grand-
mamma, her grandpapa took it out of her hand,
and turning to the fly-leaf, read the verse from
Proverbs her mother had written there. Laying
it gently down with a sigh, he made Alice very
happy by saying,-


Your mother's writing. Yes, she was right.
'A good name is rather to be chosen than riches;'
and I am glad she has taught her children to feel
that this is true."
"Grandpapa," said Alice, "I often think, when
I am sitting watching the white fleecy clouds in
the sky, that I see mamma's face smiling out of
them ; and I am almost sure the next time I do see
it that she will smile more sweetly-if, that is to
say, she has heard your words. She was very
sorry she left you, grandpapa, but you know she
loved dear papa very, very much."
"There were faults on both sides, child," said
Mr. Garnet hurriedly. "One cannot recall the
past, mind you that, so be careful how you do
wrong." Then, after sitting silent for a few
minutes, he said again, "Yes, Alice was right,-
'A good name is rather to be chosen than riches.' "

S \ 2>'



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