Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Grace Harvey
 Greenland's icy mountains
 The young soldier
 Frank Ludlow
 Grandfather's tale
 Back Cover

Title: Grace Harvey and other tales
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065499/00001
 Material Information
Title: Grace Harvey and other tales
Physical Description: 152, 4 p., 5 leaves of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 1870?
Language: English
Creator: Nimmo, William Philip, 1831-1883 ( Publisher )
Murray and Gibb ( Printer )
Publisher: William P. Nimmo
Place of Publication: Edinburgh
Manufacturer: Murray and Gibb
Publication Date: 1870
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1870   ( lcsh )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1870   ( rbprov )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1870   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1870
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Prize books (Provenance)   ( rbprov )
Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: Scotland -- Edinburgh
General Note: Date of publication from inscription.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements follow text.
General Note: Frontispiece printed in colors.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065499
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 - 002226650
notis - ALG6943
oclc - 70924264

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
    Title Page
        Page 4
        Page 5
    Table of Contents
        Page 6
        Page 7
    Grace Harvey
        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
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
    Greenland's icy mountains
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
    The young soldier
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
    Frank Ludlow
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
    Grandfather's tale
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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OW, Gracie, remember you promised me that
you would not cry.'
I know it, papa. I don't intend to cry.
The little quivering face was uplifted for a last kiss,
and Mr. Harvey clasped the little black-robed figure
tightly for a moment. Then he set her down within the
doorway, and sprang hastily into the carriage that stood
in waiting for him,-Grace looking after him with a
longing, sorrowful gaze, till the last echo of the horses'
hoofs had faded in the distance.
She turned back into the hall then, where her aunt,
Mrs. Lyon, stood, surrounded by a group of her cousins.
The oldest of these, a frank, good-natured-looking girl
of twelve, came forward as Grace turned towards them.
'Come, Gracie,' she said cheerfully; come with
Annie and me, and let's feed the guinea-pigs. Did you
ever see anr ? They're so cunning I'


Grace made no answer. The sudden sense of her
loneliness in this crowd of strange faces overpowered her.
Her lips quivered, the tears sprang to her eyes, and she
hid her face in her hands to hide the grief which she
could not any longer control.
Lizzie Lyon glanced at her sister Annie with a look of
annoyance, and the word 'baby' shaped itself on her
lips, though she did not suffer it to be heard. Annie, a
gentler child, said soothingly-
'I wouldn't cry, Gracie, if I were you. Don't!
Your father will come and see you before long; he said
he would, you know.'
And you know you promised him not to cry,' put in
Barbara, the youngest of the three.
She did not promise him never to cry, Barbara,' said
Mrs. Lyon quickly. 'And she can't help it just now,
when everything is strange to her. Run away, all of
you, for a little while, and leave her to me.'
The children obeyed readily enough, for it was very
uncomfortable to see Grace's tears; and they were not
sorry of an opportunity to talk about the new cousin
amongst themselves. Barbara was the first to speak
when they got to a safe distance.
I wish she hadn't come,' she said fretfully. If she's
going to be crying after her father all the time, she'll
spoil every bit of our fun.'
Y ou haven't much to boast of about crying, Bab,'
said Lizzie. You do it often yourself.'
I don't care! I don't want to have anybody beside
me that's always looking miserable.'
'Because you want to make all the misery yourself-
is that it, Barbie ?' laughed Annie. 'I hope Grace
isn't going to be stupid and unhappy, though. What do
you think about it, Liz?'
SI don't know,' responded Lizzie, dubiously. 'She



doesn't look as if she had much fun in her. I'm afraid
she's going to be dull.'
'She's very pretty, at any rate,' said Annie. 'Did
you observe what little white hands she had ?'
'Yes, I saw them,' answered her sister in a discon-
tented way. I don't think much of little white hands,
though. They'll be too fine for use, you'll see.'
That statement could never have been made about
Lizzie's hands; for though they were small enough and
well-shaped, she had made them as coarse as a boy's by
her constant rough play. She prided herself upon being
able to run and row, to swim and skate, to ride a horse,
and climb a tree, as well as her brothers. No sport was
too daring for her, for she was afraid of nothing; and
this, in fact, was the characteristic of all the Lyon
children. They were a strong, hearty, fearless race, all
born and brought up in the country, and accustomed,
all their lives, to constant out-door exercise. This had
made them sturdy in limb and nerve, and they had no
respect for any sort of weakness.
1 i..i.:. children of the family were boys; and this,
perhaps, helped to make the girls more rough and ready
than they might have been. For, living upon a large
farm, at a distance from neighbours, Ned and Jack were
obliged to make companions and playmates of their
sisters. So they had all grown up together in a merry,
noisy, boyish sort of way; all fond of each other, all
good-natured and cheerful,-except little Barbara, who
was given to 'sulking' occasionally; all honest, and
kind-hearted, and brave, but not apt to show much
tenderness on any occasion, and, indeed, rather ashamed
of ever being what they called sentimental.'
There could not have been a greater contrast, possibly,
than between these hardy young Lyons and their delicate
little cousin, Grace Harvey. She was the only child of



Mrs. Lyon's youngest sister, who had gone to live in
another part of the country at her marriage, and had
died there. She had been an invalid for many years;
and Grace, being the only child, was constantly at her
mother's side,-not even going to school, but learning
her simple lessons at home. She was naturally shy and
reserved; and living always in a sick-room, with no com-
panion of her own age, she had grown nervous and
silent, and any sudden noise or strange sight was apt to
frighten her.
Her mother's death had increased this tendency. She
had known nothing about death before; and all the strange,
sorrowful circumstances connected with it, haunted her
imagination for months afterwards. AI i;, a night in her
dreams she saw again the long, black coffin, and the silent
figure-so terrible in its whiteness and stillness-that
lay within. Many a time in the twilight, when all was
still and shadowy, she fancied that she heard the dread-
ful sound of the falling earth upon the coffin-lid. And
more than once she awoke from sleep sobbing wildly, as
she had done on that wretched night when she was
brought to her mother's bedside to kiss her for the last
She grew so morbid and miserable at last,-' afraid of
her own shadow,'-that her father concluded to send her
away from home. He thought if she was out of the
house that was so full of memories of her mother, and
amongst younger companions, who would divert her
from her grief, that she would grow healthier in body
and mind.
So he sent her first to a boarding-school in the town,
which was near enough for him to visit her frequently
and see how she got on. But the getting on was not
very satisfactory. Grace had been too -tenderly brought
up for boarding-school discipline. Her dainty appetite,



accustomed to the soups and jellies of an invalid, was not
equal to the plain, substantial food that other children
enjoyed. Her sensitive disposition made her shrink from
contact with strangers, and so they called her cross'
and stupid.' At the end of six months he saw that the
experiment was a failure. Grace was thin, and pale, and
drooping; her wistful little. face more wistful and sad
each time that he went to see her. She did not com-
plain; but he saw that the boarding-school was no place
for her. So he took her away.
Then came the thought of his sister-in-law, Mrs. Lyon.
She had asked him to send the child to her, when her
mother first died; but he hated to send her to such a
distance from him, and Grace equally dreaded to go.
However, there was nothing else to be done. Neither
home nor school was fit for her; and so, at last, the
little motherless girl found her way to Hollybrook
Farm, the home of the aunt and cousins whose names
she had heard so often, though till now she had never
seen them.
It was only for a visit that she went at first, until it
was seen how Grace and her cousins agreed together.
At the end of six months she was to come home if she
was not happy at Hollybrook. And meanwhile, Mr
Harvey would come and see her as often as he could.
So everything was arranged as comfortably as possible
for her, and Grace meant to be very brave, and cheerful,
and patient, and try to improve, that she might please
and comfort her father.
She never fretted nor complained throughout the
journey, long and tiresome as it was, and she bore the
final parting without a single tear. But the breaking-
down afterwards was so natural-it was so impossible
to help it after the forced composure of the last two or
three days-that no one should have blamed her for it.



Mrs. Lyon certainly did not; and while her own little
girls, who had never known any trouble in their lives,
were rather inclined to call their cousin baby,' she took
the little tired traveller into her motherly arms, and
soothed and pitied her, till Grace almost felt as if she had
her own mother back again.



ELL, girls, what sort of a creature is she?
She's pretty enough; but is there any fun
in her ?'
The young Lyons-a round half-dozen of
them-were grouped together in front of the large open
fire in the schoolroom. There were plenty of comfort-
able seats around, but these children preferred to sit, in
independent fashion, upon the floor, and in attitudes
more picturesque than graceful.
Little Charlie-a five year old boy-was curled up
like a kitten in one corner, with his head in Barbara's
lap. Ned was stretched at full length, basking jn the
glow of the coals, and reading The Far North by their
light; Annie and Lizzie sat cross-legged, Turk fashion;
and Jack sat hugging his knees in the opposite corner.
But careless and lazy as the attitudes were, the fire-
light shone upon no sleepy faces there. Ruddy cheeks,
and wide-awake eyes, sparkling with fun,' caught the
rosy glow ; and of all the merry, mischievous crew,
perhaps Master Jack was the merriest and most mis-
chievous. No lack of the quality in question in his com-
position-that was evident !
An answer sprung from the lips of all three sisters
before his question was fairly asked.
'Fun I not a bit of it, Jack. She's afraid of her own



Bah I we'll have to cure her of that,' said Jack, with
a disgusted expression.
We'll have our hands full, then,' exclaimed Lizzie,
with a laugh. It's really ridiculous, the way she
behaves. You'd think she had been kept in a bandbox
ever since she was born.'
'Well, let's hear all about it. What did she do ?'
'Why, in the first place, she cried just as soon as
Uncle Harvey went away. She watched the carriage
until it was out of sight; then she came back into the
hall, where we all stood, and I thought I would ask her
to go and see the guinea-pigs. But instead of answering
me, missy burst into tears, and cried for an hour,-so
silly, when her father is coming again in a month !'
Ah, but, Liz, you wouldn't like to be left all alone,
among strangers, yourself,' put in Annie.
O be still, Annie I wouldn't mind it a bit; I'd like
to go about and see the world. Besides, and are we
not her cousins? and mother coaxed her as loving as
could be.'
She doesn't coax me so, when I cry !' said Barbara,
with a sort of whine.
'No; because you cry too often, Bab. She might
always be coaxing!' Lizzie retorted, and, without heed-
ing the child's pout, went on with her story.
Well, we were sent out of the way-Annie, and Bab,
and I-until little Tenderheart got her feelings com-
forted. By and by mother called us, and told us to
take her up here, and show her our books, and games,
and things. So we did, and brought out all our trea-
sures from the closet; and she looked at them, and after
a while she felt better, and began to talk a little.'
'Did you show her my box of beetles ?' asked Jack.
'Yes; and you ought to have seen her jump. Oh,
how can you keep such horrid things !" with a shudder



and a shiver as if they were rattlesnakes. Why, they
won't hurt you," says little Charlie; "they're not alive."
" Oh, but they are so disagreeable; they make my flesh
creep !" And then such a look of disgust! She actually
turned pale.'
SCome, Liz, don't draw on your imagination too
lively,' said Jack, incredulously. 'That's a little too
much, you know; the idea of anybody's turning pale
over a few dead lizards and beetles !'
'She did, though, she did !' interposed little Charlie,
sturdily. It's just as Liz says, I tell you, Jack.'
'Good for you, Charlie!' they all cried, gaily ; and
Lizzie laughingly continued-
'I haven't told you half yet, Jack; just wait and see.
Dinner-time came pretty soon, and after dinner, don't
you think, she said she would like to go up-stairs and
lie down! Imagine anybody but a baby having to take
a nap in the day-time !'
'Anybody but a fiddlestick !' exclaimed Ned, who
had not taken part in the conversation before. 'After
a journey of five hundred miles without stopping, and
half of it in the night-time, anybody might want a nap.
I wonder mother didn't put her to bed as soon as she
got here.'
'Well, never mind about that; I suppose she was
tired,' Lizzie assented. But she had a good sleep, and
came down again quite refreshed, she said. So then I
asked her if she wouldn't like to take a walk. We
hadn't been out of doors all day, and I was dying for a
run myself.'
Oh, I'll be sure you were!' muttered Ned, under his
breath ; but Lizzie took no notice of him.
'You should have seen how amazed she looked !' she
went on. Take a walk why, where would you go ?
It's so cold on the lawn, with the trees all bare." Oh, we



said, not on the lawn,-there was no fun walking there,-
out in the fields somewhere ; down the meadow-lane, or
up into the woods. And at that she looked as if she
thought we were insane. Why, we would certainly
freeze, she said, or be blown off our feet! We told
her that we went out every day the year round, and
<- rode, and skated, and sailed, and all that sort of thing.
SAnd then she looked at us as though we were wild
k animals '
'Draw it mild, Liz,' put in Jack again, shaking with
laughter; and Lizzie rattled on.
It is all so, I tell you; you can ark Charlie. We
Sgot her out at last, however, after a great deal of ccax-
ing, and promising to take her in the woods, where
the wind couldn't touch her. You'd have thought,
when we started, that she was going to Greenland, she
was muffled up so. Well, we took a short cut across
the old corn-field to the woods, and the broken ground
hurt her feet so, you can't think!'
'Pretty dear we'll have it carpeted for her, as soon
as possible,' said Jack, and they all laughed at his comical
tone; while Ned added-
.' That's truer than you think: it's to be sown in grass
i, The spring.'
SBut when she got fairly into the woods, it was
amusing to watch her. She had never seen anything
bigger than a town garden, she said; and the great
splendid old trees seemed like monsters to her, like the
ogres in the fairy tales-'
'Or Jack on the bean-stalk,' whispered Jack to him-
'And it took her breath away to look up to their
tops !' continued Lizzie, disregarding the interpolation.
SThe wind in the boughs, she said, sounded just like the
organ in their church at home; and then she laid her



head down on the bank, and turned her face away,
and I do believe she cried.'
'Yes, she did,' said Annie; and I asked her what
made her cry, and she wouldn't tell me for ever so long;
and I kissed her by and by, and then she said it was
like the music they played the day her mother was
buried !'
'Poor little thing !' exclaimed Ned, his quick feelings
touched to pity. 'I say, Liz, I hope you haven't been
up to any of your tricks with that child ?'
'No, no,' said. Lizzie, 'of course not. Though it's
time she left off moping so. Aunt's been dead nearly
a year, and Grace has been at boarding-school,-she
ought to have got over it. But she is such a little
coward It was getting towards dark, you know, and
the frogs began to croak. It sounded very loud in the
woods, and Grace got so frightened I made her come
to the edge of the pond, and look at them, to see that
they wouldn't hurt her. But she shook so all over, and
every bit of pink went out of her cheeks, and she begged
so hard to come home, that we had to start off. I had
a mind to bring her through the cow-pasture, but I was
afraid she'd have a fit, or something; so I didn't. But
now, what are we ever going to do with such a Miss
Nancy ?'
'Let her alone; she'll get over it. Nobody wants her
to be such a rough specimen as you are, Liz,' said Ned,
gruffly; and his sister retorted-
Oh, you be still! you'll be as ready as anybody to
help to cure her of her nonsense. Afraid of frogs,
indeed Jack, see here! I've got something to tell
you.' And then the two brown heads went down to-
gether, and it was plain to see that some mischief was
brewing, from the whispering and tittering that followed.
'That's not fair,' exclaimed Annie, presently, not



liking to be kept out of the fun, whatever it was.
'You've no right to whisper before other people.'
'No,' said Ned; 'let's have no whispering and secrets.
Speak it out and be done with it. It's some mischief, I
'Well, if you'll promise not to meddle,' Lizzie began.
'I'm not in the habit of meddling,' Ned replied, with
No; but you seem inclined to make excuses for this
foolish little Grace,' said Jack; and if we tell you that
we mean to take her in hand, and cure her of her non-
sense, you'll be having some objections to make, I
'Not if you go the right way to work,' Ned answered.
'Of course I don't want her to be silly, and a spoil-sport,
any more than you do. But then I don't want you to
be rough with her; the little thing looks too delicate for
you and Liz to train.'
Oh, don't you be afraid !' was Lizzie's retort. We're
not going to hurt her. You can come in and take her
part when we do.'
'Well, I'd like to hear your plans,' said Ned. 'Let
me hear them.'
But just at this juncture the door opened, and Mrs.
Lyon appeared. She had been up-stairs to see that the
little stranger was comfortably in bed, and, pitying her
loneliness, had stayed with her until she dropped to sleep.
Now she looked into the schoolroom on her way down,
to say that it was quite time little Charlie was in bed
too, and that the others got out their books for to-
morrow's lessons.
So, after a good deal of chattering and scrambling
about, the table was drawn up before the fire, the lamp
lighted, and books and slates brought out from the long
desk which stretched across the room at its farther end.



Mrs. Lyon went back to the parlour, after seeing each
one settled at his proper place at the table. Charlie was
carried off to bed; and soon all were quiet, except when
Jack and Lizzie exchanged a glance of mischief, and
broke into a smothered laugh, or little Bab whined over
some difficulty in her lesson.

r '
Y~f :1



CRIB had been put up for Grace in the room
which Lizzie and Annie occupied. Barbara
slept on the second storey, in a little room
that opened out of her mother's; and little
Charlie, who was 'baby' still, had his crib in Mrs. Lyon's
own chamber. It was not thought best to put Grace
in a room alone; in fact, her father had requested that
she might have a sleeping companion; and so her aunt
had had the little bed put up in the girls' room, which
was the largest and airiest on that floor.
When Lizzie and Annie went up to bed, they found
Grace fast asleep, her cheek leaning on one of the little
white hands that Annie admired so much, and her pretty
brown ringlets peeping out from the ruffled border of
her nightcap.
'She is pretty,' Lizzie whispered, as they stopped for
a minute to look at her.
'As pretty as a picture,' Annie returned. 'But do
you know, Liz, I believe she has been crying in her
sleep !'
True enough, there was the tear-drop trembling still
on wet eyelashes. Mr. Harvey had seen the same
thing many a time when he looked at his little daughter
in her sleep-a sleep that was so often broken and dis-
tressed with her sorrowful dreams. But it was some-
thing new to these healthy, happy children, who hardly


knew the meaning of sorrow, and whose slumbers were
rarely light enough for dreams. It touched them to a
sense of pity, and they moved softly about in their un-
dressing, and spoke in whispers, that they might not dis-
turb her.
SI suppose if mother were to die, we'd feel just so,'
Annie said, after they were in bed.
'Mother isn't going to die; don't talk about such
things, Annie,' her sister answered, hastily. For Lizzie
,never wanted to think of any trouble. So Annie said
no more ; and the two were soon deep in slumber, from
which they did not wake until the grey light of day-
break was creeping through the windows. They did
not wake of their own will then. A startled cry from
Grace's crib roused them up ; and there she was, sitting
upright in bed, staring all round the room with such
wild, frightened eyes, that the sisters called out in
'What is the matter, Grace? Say! what do you
see ?'
Oh, that horrid noise!' was all Grace could utter.
Whlt noise? I don't hear anything. What are
you talking about, Grace?'
'There it goes again!' cried the frightened child,
cowering down into the bed, and drawing the quilt over
her head that she might not hear. But Lizzie exclaimed,
with a look of disgust-
'Upon my word, Grace, I wouldn't have thought
anybody could be so silly. It's nothing but the cocks
crowing for day. For pity's sake, did you never see a
chicken '
Annie went off into fits of laughter, and poor Grace
was thoroughly mortified.
'Of course I have,' she said, 'and heard them too;
but I was dreaming, and it sounded so strange. I don't



think it's kind of you to laugh at me so.' And then they
heard her sobbing to herself under the bedclothes.
Annie tried very hard to smother the merriment she
could not suppress ; but Lizzie was impatient of what
she thought such ridiculous affectation.'
'It's impossible she can be such a goose,' she whispered
under the bedclothes to her sister. 'She's putting on
airs, and I'll cure her of them-or frighten her in
'What will you do ?' asked Annie, in the same under-
'Oh, I know! I've thought of something-if you
won't tell.'
Of course not, Liz. As if I ever told!'
'Well, put your head under the sheet; don't let her
hear us. You know Murphy's old white barn-cock?'
'Dick Redtop? Yes.'
'Mind now, you don't breathe it; you don't let any-
body guess!' And then followed a long, whispered
communication, interspersed with many a smothered
giggle from Annie, whose laughter was always ready to
bubble up and boil over on the slightest provocation.
What the plan was that caused so much amusement, I
must not explain, since it was so strictly private and
confidential. It was revealed only to Jack, of all the
children, his co-operation being necessary for the suc-
cess of the joke. Besides, Jack was a good one for
keeping his own counsel. No danger of any indiscretion
on his part, when there was any mischief to be accom-
plished, and any fun to come out of it.
Lessons had been omitted the day before, in honour
of Grace's arrival; but they were to begin again to-day,
and at nine o'clock, accordingly, the children gathered to-
gether in the schoolroom. There was no school anywhere
within miles of Iollybrook Farm, and so the young



Lyons had always been taught at home, by a governess
when they were little, and now by Mr. Lyon himself,
who was a fine classical scholar, and preferred to prepare
his boys for college after his own system. Ned and
Jack were reading Horace very cleverly, and going
through a course of Greek grammar besides. Lizzie
and Annie, too, had begun to study Latin; and even
Grace knew something about it, her father having
taught her a few verbs and declensions by way of
amusement in winter evenings.
He had asked that she might continue the study with
her cousins. So Grace had a Latin grammer given
her, and Annie and Lizzie were turned back to the begin-
ning, that they might all go on together. There was at
first a little grumbling about this, on Lizzie's part; but
Grace said so pleasantly, 'If you only won't mind it,
Lizzie, I shall get on so much faster for being with you
and Annie,-and I do want to learn!' that her cousin
was propitiated; and the morning lessons went on very
There was no particular order enforced in this school-
room. The children scattered about pretty much as they
pleased, some sitting in one place, and some in another,
while they worked their examples, or looked out their
Latin words. Ned and Jack had the first recitation, in
Greek grammar ; then came a geography lesson, in which
the two girls recited with their brothers, and Grace was
to join them; then Barbara had some little lessons in
geography and spelling, and after that was a recess for
half an hour.
This was the signaLfor a romp; and Grace was rather
surprised to see that no one was sent in to stop the noise.
A servant came to the door with a plate of cakes and a
dish of apples, which were immediately seized upon by
Jack and Annie, and distributed in the most uncere-



monious manner. Nobody seemed to think of sitting
down to eat the lunch. They climbed up on the long
desk, and chased each other from one end of it to the
other; they jumped over the chairs ; they played puss-
in-the-corner,-all the while eating, and all the while
laughing and shouting as loudly as they pleased.
Grace did not take much share in the frolic. She did
not know how to jump over chair-backs and benches, and
her childish education in puss-in-the-corner had been
neglected. She was very much amused, however, with
the ,;ii, of her cousins, and laughed heartily at some
of their performances in the monkey-line. So that, see-
ing that she did not 'put on any airs,' as they expressed
it, they allowed her to sit still, an unmolested spectator,
until Mr. Lyon returned, and the game of romps ended.
Lessons went on, after the recess, till the clock struck
two. Then the children all ran up-stairs, to brush their
hair and wash their faces for dinner, which they had just
time to do before the bell rang. After this there was no
more school for the day. The children had the after-
noon to themselves, to spend as they chose, in any kind
of work or play that suited them best. And they had
always a great variety of pursuits; time never hung
heavy on the hands of this active little crew. Out-of-
door occupation pleased them best generally, and cold
weather never hindered them, as we have seen. But
when the weather was wet,-an actual rain falling, or a
more than usually heavy snow-storm,-there was a rule
that they must confine their energies to the limits of
the house.
To-day was one that came under the rule. Grey
clouds had been hanging low all the morning; at dinner-
time they descended in the shape of a north-east storm,
which gave promise of tarrying long enough td keep the
children in-doors for more days than one. The young


Lyons grumbled openly-little Grace Harvey rejoiced
secretly-at the prospect.
'They can't torment me to go out to walk while it
rains,' she thought; and she was rather selfishly glad to
see the stormy gusts dash up against the window. She
had never had playmates, and was therefore not accus-
tomed to consider anybody's pleasure but her own. It
pleased her to sit at the schoolroom window and watch
the drifts of rain as the wild wind swept them across the
lawn, to see the tall poplars bending in the blast, and to
hear the naked boughs of the elms creaking, as they
tossed to and fro ; and she did not care at all whether
any one else liked it or not. It did not occur to her that
she had anything to do in the way of giving up her own
inclination for the sake of pleasing others. She had been
sent to IT. 1- i ...:.. that she might grow healthy and
happy, and she thought her cousins ought to pity her,
and be very kind to her. But she did not also remem-
ber that it was her duty to be 'kind' to them, by trying
to make herself a cheerful companion for them, and not
annoying them with her melancholy and unsociable ways.
She did not mean to be selfish ; but it really was selfish-
ness that made her refuse to join Annie. and Lizzie,
when they asked her to go up into the garret and play
with them. They had a swing up there, and a see-saw,
and a great pile of bricks and timber to build houses
and barns with, together with various other sources of
amusement for a i ,,- day. These were all set in tempt-
ing array before her; but Grace shrugged her little
shoulders with a half-scornful air, and declined the enter-
She would rather stay in the schoolroom,-she liked
to watch the rain,-she didn't want to play.
So her cousins were obliged to leave her to herself,
and go to their play without her. But Lizzie was more



than ever provoked with her airs,' and more than ever
determined to punish her for them whenever she had
She and Jack had a long whispered consultation after
tea that evening, and then Jack had another with
Murphy in the barn. The end of it was that a queerly
tied up basket was smuggled into the house under cover
of the darkness, and hidden away in a closet in the girls'
bedroom. This closet had two doors, one of which
opened into the hall, and had a window at the top; and
the door of the room in which Ned and Jack slept was
exactly opposite to it.
That night, after everybody in the house had gone to
bed, and nearly everybody was sound asleep, Jack stole
softly from the side of his sleeping brother, and crept
across the hall to the closet we have described. A candle,
provided beforehand, stood upon the outside ledge of
the little window; and this Jack lighted cautiously.
Then he went into the closet and untied the basket,
which had been set upon an upper shelf; and immedi-
ately there was a fluttering and flapping of wings, followed
quickly by a long, sharp, shrill cry, which rang through
the silent house with a most unearthly echo.
It had not ceased before it was answered by a wild
shriek from the adjoining room. Grace's crib was close
to the closet, and the child's light slumber had been
instantly broken. Shriek after shriek of mortal terror
rang from her lips, awakening the sleepers in every
direction. Mr. and Mrs. Lyon sprang out of bed, threw
on dressing-gowns in haste, and rushed up-stairs; the
servants hurried down from the attic rooms; Ned ran
out into the hall; the younger children began to scream;
and the whole household was in commotion.
Meanwhile the guilty three-Lizzie, and Annie, and
Jack-preserved a cautious silence, and endeavoured to


look as bewildered as the rest. But they could not
refrain from a burst of laughter when Mrs. Lyon, who
had opened door after door in a vain effort to discover
the cause of the disturbance, turned at last the lock of
the closet; and forth stalked, with comb bristling and
ruffled feathers, a tall white I', ih i, instantly recog-
nised as 'Dick Redtop,' the patriarch of the poultry-
yard, and special pet and property of Murphy, the
The creature stalked into the middle of the room,
looking about as though marvelling much to find himself
in such strange quarters; and then stopping suddenly,
he flapped his wings, opened his beak, and uttered again
his shrill, brazen cock-a-doodle-doo-o-! The little
Lyons, one and all, shrieked with laughter; but poor
Grace hid her head under the bedclothes, and sobbed
As for the father and mother of this reckless little
crew, they stood confounded for a minute, and did not
know what to say or do. The whole thing was so ridicu-
lous, the mischief was so harmless, the plan so bold, that
Mr. Lyon could hardly help laughing as loudly as the
children; for he remembered the tricks he was fond of
playing when just such another wild lad as Jack. But
he knew very well that this sort of thing must not be
allowed; so he managed at length to assume a severe
expression, and read the mischievous children a sound
He condemned Jack to catch Dick Redtop,-march-
ing, just now, in a bewildered manner up and down the
hall,-and carry him back, through the rain and the
darkness, to his proper perch 'on the hen-roost. Then
he commanded silence and order for the rest of the
night, and returned at length to his own room. But
Mrs. Lyon stayed up-stairs a long time, at first soothing



the poor, nervous child, who was almost hysterical with
the fright and excitement, and afterwards rebuking very
severely the thoughtless love of fun, which made those
who indulged it so careless of the pain they gave, and
the trouble and annoyance they caused.
Lizzie and Annie felt rather ashamed as they listened
to their mother's reproof, and were not unwilling to
promise that they would never do such a thing again.
But when she was gone, and Grace's grieving sobs were
hushed at last in slumber, they were ready to make
many excuses for themselves.
'Grace is such a ridiculous baby !' Annie exclaimed.
'The idea of her screaming so, and rousing the whole
house I never dreamed of such a fuss coming out of it.'
'Nor I,' said Lizzie. The only thing is, we'll have to
be more careful another time.'
SOh, but we promised we wouldn't frighten her any
Indeed, we didn't do any such thing. We promised
we'd never hide Dick Redtop in the closet again; and
so we won't. But there's lots of other things to do; and
I don't intend to let her alone till she's cured of her
nonsense and affectations.'
'Well, it will really be doing her good to cure her,'
said Annie, virtuously.
'Of course,' responded the equally virtuous Lizzie.
'One of these days she'll be very much obliged to us.
At least she ought to.'
With which conclusion the two sisters cuddled down
into bed, and prepared to go to sleep. But I am bound
to state that they did not enjoy a very refreshing slum-
ber; for Grace had been made so nervous that she
waked up continually, with a start and a cry, and roused
the others from many a nice little nap; which was a
punishment that, you will agree, they certainly deserved.




V IOR a week or so after the 'i ... i: Conspiracy,'
Sas Ned called it, Grace was suffered to live in
[. ; peace. Mrs. Lyon kept her with herself as
much as possible, and took care that no tricks
should be played upon her. And Grace gradually be-
came accustomed to the ways of the family, and began
to like her cousins more, as she grew better acquainted
with them. Ned and Annie she liked especially, for
they were always more gentle than the others with her.
But Jack and Lizzie were kind to her too, after their
own fashion; and as nothing occurred to excite her
foolish fears, and Lizzie's disgust in consequence, things
went on most harmoniously for a time.
The only cause of disagreement was Grace's persistent
refusal to go out of doors. Mrs. Lyon at first humoured
her in this, sent the others off without her, and took
pains to devise amusement for the little girl in-doors.
But one mild Saturday morning, when all the children
were preparing for an excursion in the woods, and
Grace, as usual, hung back, her aunt desired her to go
with them. The air was soft, the sun shining warmly,
no snow on the ground to wet her feet, and no cold
wind to pierce through her dress; so that there was
certainly no excuse for staying in; and Mrs. Lyon
thought the exercise would do her good.
Grace got ready, accordingly, and went out with her



cousins; and the weather being so pleasant, she found
that she could really enjoy being out. In the woods it
was almost warm, the sunshine streamed so brightly
through the paths, and all the wind was in the tops of
the trees. Grace sat down at first upon a log of wood,
only caring to listen to the sweet solemn music of the
swaying boughs. But Annie and Barbara began their
usual game of romps. Presently they called Grace to
come and play; and though she went rather unwillingly,
she soon got into the spirit of the frolic, and enjoyed it
as much as the rest. When they were tired of this, they
gathered bunches of holly, 'and picked off the shining
red berries to string into necklaces. Grace, who had
been brought up with very orderly habits, had a little
housewife in her pocket, from which she produced, to
Barbara's great delight, a store of needles and thread, so
that they could string the necklaces on the spot. All
three sat down upon a heap of dry leaves, and set to
work diligently at once-little Charlie looking on with
great interest.
But Lizzie came up presently, and broke up the quiet
SWhat nonsense!' she exclaimed. The idea of sitting
down in the woods to string holly-berries, when you
could just as well do it in the house! Do come and
play, and leave such stupid fun till you go home.'
'Play what?' asked Barbara. What are you playing?'
'I'm down at the pond of course; so's Jack. Come
on, and see what we're doing.'
'Very well,' said Annie, always ready for anything
new; let's go.'
So the holly-berries were gathered up hastily, and
stuffed into their pockets, and the little girls followed
Lizzie to the pond. Grace went rather reluctantly,
remembering the frogs; but there was no sound of their



croaking; so she concluded that the 'horrid things'
were not to be seen in the day-time, and ventured with
the rest down to the water's edge. There she found, to
her dismay, that Jack and Lizzie were shooting frogs
with a bow and arrows; and this was the fun that Lizzie
had called them to share in.
Jack had already killed a dozen or more of the un-
fortunate creatures, and impaled them upon a long stick;
and when Grace came near, he offered to lend her his
bow and arrows, that she might try her hand at the
same sport. But the sensitive little girl shrank back
with horror.
'How can you do such a cruel, cruel thing?' she
exclaimed. They are horrid, hideous objects, I know;
but how can you be so hard-hearted as to kill them ?'
Oh, they like it,' said Jack, dryly. Come and see
how they poke up their heads, and wait for a chance to
be shot There's a jolly old chap now; let's have a shy
at him. Crack !-there he goes!'
The arrow sped swift and sure, Froggy croaked his
last yaup !' and Grace covered her eyes with her hands,
vowing she would not look again at such wicked sport.
'I'll go home! I won't stay any longer! I don't like
such play!' she cried, excitedly. And she ran away,
shrieking with terror, when Jack came towards her,
brandishing aloft his long stick garnished with dead
Never mind, Jack; let her alone,' Lizzie whispered.
' Don't run after her; I want to tell you something.'
And then followed a brief colloquy, which, Annie was
perfectly sure, meant mischief, though she did not hear
a word of it. Grace had retreated into the woods as fast
as possible, and Annie ran after her, for she did not like
the frog-killing play any better than Grace, to tell the
truth. They walked together, with their arms twined



about each other, until Jack had got all the bait he
wanted for his fi.-,;- and the rest came up from the
pond. Then they all went home pleasantly together,-
only Grace took care to keep at a safe distance from
Jack and his long stickful of frogs.
In the afternoon the girls gathered round the sitting-
room fire to finish the holly-berry necklaces. They were
all chattering merrily over them,-even Grace, whose
morning in the woods had brightened her cheeks, and
made her much more talkative than usual,-when Jack
walked soberly in, carrying a neat brown paper parcel.
'Here's something that was left at the door for you,
Grace,' he said, demurely.
For me ?-are you sure ?' Grace sprang up, scatter-
ing all her berries in her eagerness, as she reached for
the parcel. It must be something papa has sent me.
Oh, I'm so much obliged to you, Jack !' and her whole
face was radiant with pleasure.
'Open it, then,' said Jack, and let's see what's inside.'
"Something nice for Betsy Price," I suppose,' laughed
Annie, who suspected mischief.
Lizzie said nothing; but her face quivered with sup-
pressed laughter as she watched Grace trying eagerly to
undo the package. The poor child's fingers trembled
with her excitement; and, too impatient to untie the
strings, she tore off a part of the wrapping, whereupon
a great -.ii l- i..., with his emerald-green back, and little
wicked-looking black beads of eyes, leaped out into her
Every particle of colour fled from Grace's cheeks, and
she shrieked wildly, as it was always her first impulse to
do in her terror. The other children shouted with
laughter, and scrambled up into their chairs to get out
of the way of the bewildered creature, which was leaping
about the floor, frantic with fright itself. And Mrs.



Lyon, hearing the commotion, came hurrying in to see
what had happened,-if the chimney had caught fire, or
the house fallen down.
Grace did not wait to tell her; she was too much
ashamed at having caused another scene by her cowardice;
and before her aunt could speak to her, she had flown out
of the room, away up to the top of the house, where, in
the farthest corner of the old garret, she sobbed out her
fright and mortification and disappointment all alone.
Lizzie took it upon herself to explain the matter.
It was only a frog, mother. Jack has been shooting
some for bait, you know, and Grace is such a goose.
She screams for nothing,' -she replied to Mrs. Lyon's
annoyed inquiries.
She knew she was not telling the exact truth; and she
was terribly afraid lest the green monster, which she
had hastily kicked under her chair, should spring out
and betray the real state of the case. But Mrs. Lyon
was in a hurry, and only stopped to say that Grace must
really try to overcome such silly fears, and that her
cousins must not tease her. So the matter passed over;
and the mischievous children laughed heartily, when they
were alone, at the success of their trick.
As for Grace, she cried herself to sleep up in the old
garret, and dreamed that she was a bull-frog in the
pond, and that Barbara and little Charlie were shooting
holly-berries at her out of a pop-gun
It was not a particularly pleasant dream, to be sure;
but still it was not so dreadful as some of the old dreams
that used to haunt her sleep. And the waking up was
not so disagreeable as it might have been, considering
the circumstances. She had gone to sleep crouched
upon the floor, with her little tired head resting upon a
hard wooden stool. When she woke up it was pillowed
softly upon Annie's lap, and Annie's eyes met hers with



a little shy glance of love as she stooped down to kiss
'It was not I that did it, Gracie,' she whispered.
'Indeed, I wouldn't have let them frighten you so if I
had known about it. It was too wicked of Jack.'
'I don't know why they want to tease me so,' said
Grace, in an injured tone. 'I'm sure I never do any-
thing to them.'
Yes, you do, sometimes,' said Annie. You tease us
by keeping away from us, and staying by yourself, and
,I,.n.i_, when we want you to play. And Liz and Jack
say that it's half affectation, all this being afraid of
things. They say you want to be a fine lady, and you
think it's pretty to put on such airs. So they tease you,
to cure you of it.'
'It is very unkind of them to say such things!' ex-
claimed Grace, with a quivering lip. 'I can't help
being afraid; and if they were to come to my father's
house I wouldn't treat them as they treat me. I wish I
was at home now-I wish I had never left papa. He
did not think it was affectation !'
And I don't, either,' Annie answered, quickly. I
know you can't help it, Gracie; and I'll tell you what:
I've made up my mind that I never will help anybody
to play tricks upon you again. There now!'
Grace acknowledged this promise with a grateful kiss;
and Annie felt quite rewarded for the effort it had cost her
.to make it. It really was an effort for such a mischief-
loving little imp as she was ; and she had had a struggle
with her propensity for fun before her principle of right
gained the victory. Grace did not know this; it was
no temptation to her to play tricks upon anybody, and she
could not understand the pleasure of a joke which gave
another person pain. Still she felt very much obliged to
her cousin, and told her so; and the two little girls had


a very pleasant little confidential talk together, all alone
in the old garret.
Grace felt much better acquainted with Annie after it;
and she also began to understand something that she
had never thought of before, namely, that it was selfish
and inconsiderate-and quite as vexatious to her cousins
as their tricks were to her-to refuse to join in their
pleasures, or take an interest in their occupations. She
had never thought before of pleasing anybody but her-
self in such matters; but she now began to see that
there was something else to be thought of. She did
not like to be considered selfish,-she did not like to be
selfish; and so she also made a resolution, as well as
Annie, which was, that hereafter she would try to be
more obliging, and not stay away with a book in a corner,
or tied to her aunt's apron-string, when her cousins
wanted her to play.
They were two very good resolutions, indeed ; but it
is one thing to make a resolution, and another thing to
keep it!



TTF history of the next few weeks proved the
difference. Annie found that it was very hard
work to keep her promise, when Lizzie was for
ever starting some new mischief, and bringing
Annie into it whether she would or no. Grace, too, dis-
covered that" it was not so easy to overcome in a day
the self-indulgent habits of a lifetime. It was much
more natural to say, Oh, I don't want to, I'd rather
read,' or, I don't care about playing,' when Lizzie asked
anything of her, than to give up cheerfully her own
inclination, and do as her cousin wished.
So it happened that, partly out of pure mischief,
partly out of vexation because Grace really was so un-
sociable, and partly out of a self-righteous determination
'to cure her of her nonsense,' these strong-minded young
people gave Grace very little peace in her life. They
had the best intentions in the world, of course, and ex-
S....I everything they did with the virtuous plea of
doing her good.' Nor did they consider that they were
using rather painful means to a rather doubtful end.
'It will never do, you know, for a girl to be afraid
of cows. You might have to milk them some day,'
Jack would say; and before Grace suspected his inten-
tion, she would find herself suddenly caught up in his
strong arms and lifted over the fence into the field
where the cows were. Then all the rest would run

GRACE ,I'l i. 39

away, shouting with laughter; and the frightened child
would be ift -,r. the mercy of a herd of cattle, all of
which she supposed to be furious animals, ever ready to
toss unfortunate children upon their horns, though in
reality they were the gentlest of milky mothers,' with
not a vicious' one in the lot, as Jack, to do him justice,
knew perfectly well before he put her there.
Another time, when Grace had given an unwilling
consent to walk in the woods, they would tell her some
ridiculous story about panthers crouching on the limbs
of the trees, or bears prowling in the underwood. And
just at the exciting point of the story, Jack, hidden up in
the boughs of a tree, would throw down an unfortunate
cat, beguiled fiom home for that very purpose; or else
start up one of the pigs that roamed at large in a certain
part of the woods, where acorns were thick, so that Grace
might imagine its grunts were the growls of the bear.
At home it was the same thing, with variations. There
was little peace for her except in school-hours, when
they were under Mr. Lyon's eye, and busy with lessons;
or when Grace sat with her little work-basket, and sewed
by her aunt's side. Her cousins did not like to sew; and
they thought it very prim and stupid of Grace to sit
there hemming handkerchiefs, or hooking at crochet
work, when they wanted her to romp in the garret, or
race in the fields.
Mrs. Lyon used often to send her off with them, telling
her that she must not sew so steadily, but take more
exercise; and she could not understand the child's re-
luctance to go. She did not know the teasing process
that was so .,Lii ... ;i'.1 i-, kept up; for Grace never told
tales, or complained of her cousins, whatever they did
to her; and, on their part, they were careful to play
tricks out of Mrs. Lyon's sight and hearing.
Annie, to be sure, took her part as much as possible,


and came to her relief in more than one great terror.
It was she that climbed the fence, and -1,.. ..1 between
Grace and the cows, until Grace could get back into safe
ground. She assured her that the panther was only a
cat, and the bear nothing but a peaceable pig, when
Grace was nearly fainting with dread of these wild
beasts. But she could not do much, after all, when
Jack and Lizzie were league against her; and it was
quite impossible not to laugh at their ingenious devices.
So the thing went on. Jack would bring in a box of
garden-seeds, so c ..I, and ask Grace to help him to
sort them, and put them up in packages. But when she
came to do it, and the box was opened, instead of clean
little brown seeds, a mass of squirming earthworms
would appear; and Grace's smothered cry, and shiver
of disgust, would be greeted with a roar of laughter that
sent her ashamed and mortified into a corner.
At night Lizzie would purposely strew crumbs of cake
about the floor of their bedroom, in order to attract the
mice. The little brown creatures would steal out of their
hiding-places, and glide across the floor, looking pretty,
and graceful, and harmless enough, certainly, to anybody
not foolishly sensitive. But to Grace they were objects
of mortal fear, and she would spring into the middle of
her bed, as white as the wall, at the sight of one; which
was all that Lizzie wanted, of course, and enough to send
the two sisters into fits of merriment, while poor morti-
fled Grace was left to hide her head under the sheets,
and sob herself to sleep.
The child's life was made actually wretched in this
way. She grew more nervous and timid than ever, for
she was constantly expecting some shock or sudden
fright; and she became morbid and miserable with her
constant dread. She had a great disappointment, more-
over, in a letter that came from her father, saying he



should not be able to come to Hollybrook for another
long month. She had counted the hours, almost, until
he should come, and it made her fairly sick when this
grievously-disappointing letter was sent instead.
Her aunt tried to comfort her, and her cousins really
pitied her, and for a whole day treated her very tenderly.
But Grace was not to be soothed. A desperate feeling
that she could not, could not bear it any longer, had come
into her heart. She must go home, she must see her
father, she could not live any longer with people who
tormented her so, she said to herself. So one day,
possessed with this wild longing to escape from it all,
she sat down and wrote a pitiful little letter to her
father, telling him that she was sick and miserable, and
she wanted to go home, and begging him not to wait a
whole month before he came for her.
She did not, even in this letter, make any complaints
of her cousins. She was too generous to tell tales of
them, even to her own father. And he could not under-
stand at all, when her sad letter came to him, why she
should be so miserable when there was so much at Holly-
brook to make her happy. He was almost tempted, at
first, to write her a reproving answer, and tell her that
she must really try to overcome such a discontented and
ungrateful disposition, and learn to be thankful for the
blessings that were given her.
It was very inconvenient for him to leave his business
at that time, and take the long journey to Hollybrook
Farm. He thought at first that it was quite impossible,
and began a letter to Grace to tell her so. But then he
took up hers again; and the pitiful little sheet, blotted and
blistered with tears, was too much for the father's love
to resist. So it ended in his making some arrangement
to leave his business; and two days after Grace's letter
reached him, he was on his way to Hollybrook Farm.



Meanwhile, the poor little timid girl was in a state
of nervous excitement and anxiety that made her more
than ever a subject for her cousins' teasing. She was
frightened at herself for having written such a letter,
and after it was fairly sent, wished heartily that she
could bring it back again. She imagined over and over
again what her father would think when he read it,-
whether he would be angry with her, and refuse to come,
or whether he really would come and take her away. And
if he did, what would they all say ? What would her aunt
think, who had been so kind to her always ? What would
Annie do ? They would all be vexed with her,-that
she was sure of; they would never love her any more,
or let her come to I-Iollybrook again; and much as they
had teased her, Grace could not bear the idea of never
seeing any of these wild boys and girls again.
Altogether she was very wretched-poor, silly child!
and in her nervous, anxious state of mind, was a perfect
victim to her mischievous cousins.
'Grace gets sillier every day, I do believe,' said Ned,
one afternoon. 'I only came up behind her, a little
while ago, and laid my hand on her shoulder, never
thinking or wanting to frighten her. I don't believe
in that sort of thing, though you do, Jack. I just
touched her; and if you ever saw anybody jump and
scream! You'd have thought I was a ghost, or the
man with the Iron Mask at least, to see the white
face she showed.. I don't know what to make of her,
for my part.'
'I'm afraid her early education has been neglected,'
said Jack, dryly. I'll have to take her in band seriously.'
'Oh! I thought you and Liz had been training her
these two months,' said Ned. 'She doesn't do your
system much credit.'
'Give us time, my dear fellow. Rome wasn't built in


a day,' Jack retorted; and he went out of the room with
a wicked idea in his brain, which he proceeded to exe-
cute at once, while it was warm.
Among his collection of odd treasures was an absurd-
looking negro mask, with the blackest possible com-
plexion, and the reddest of wide, grinning mouths.
Ned's allusion to the Iron Mask had suggested it to his
mischievous imagination; and in a very few minutes he
had it on his face, and was stealing softly up behind
Grace, who sat in the schoolroom, bending over a book,
though it was already too dark for her to have tried to
Annie and Lizz:e were in the room also, and they saw
Jack before Grace did, which was very fortunate for
the poor little victim, who, but for Annie's interference,
might have been frightened into convulsions at the sight
'of the ugly black face grinning over her shoulder. Jack
made a signal for the two girls to be silent, as he crept
up, and Lizzie squeezed her sister's hand hard; but
Annie remembered her promise, and rebelled against the
'You sha'n't do it, Jack, you sha'n't do it!' she
cried out, springing up from her seat, and running to
'Don't look behind you, Gracie, don't!' she exclaimed
eagerly. Jack wants to frighten you; he has got
his horrid old black mask on. Jack, you ought to be
ashamed of yourself-that you ought!'
'Who asked you to meddle?' asked Jack, roughly.
'Another time, you attend to your own affairs-will
And Lizzie turned upon her, too, crying reproach-
fully, 'Telltale! telltale!' But Annie did not care. She
had seen the fright which Ned had unconsciously caused,
and she could not bear to see another inflicted wantonly



so soon. Besides, she had heard her mother say, only
that morning, that Grace looked so pale, and had so
little appetite, she was afraid she was going to be ill.
So she only kissed Grace affectionately, and did not
answer her brother and sister. And Jack and his black
mask walked out of the room, for once no merrier than
when they came in.

"- t .-"-,:-T



HE next day, as Grace was passing by the open
door of the kitchen, somebody ...ild -her
name; and going in, she saw Charlie and Bar-
bara examining with great enjoyment a lot of
what seemed to be ugly black shells.
'Look here, Gracie; look !' cried little Charlie, hold-
ing one of them up to her; and then she saw that the
black shell was alive. Four claws dangled out from
the sides, and a queer, gutta-percha-looking head thrust
itself out for a moment, and then was hastily withdrawn.
SAren't they funny ?' said Barbara, poking amongst
them with a stick as they lay on the floor, until the
whole mass began to wriggle and crawl. 'Just set your
foot on this one, Grace, till I make him put his head
'No!' cried Charlie. Look at mine, Grace!' And
he tossed the thing with the dangling claws up against
her. It dropped upon the floor, and Grace ran shivering
to the farthest end of the kitchen.
'Don't! oh, don't!' she pleaded pitifully, as the
children pursued her, each with a shell in their hands.
'They make me sick; I can't look at them. Oh, please!'
'La, Miss Grace, ye needn't be afraid o' the likes o'
thim,' observed Kate, the cook. 'They'll niver bite ye
while there's frogs in Ireland.'
'They make me sick,' Grace repeated with a shudder.



An' ye wouldn't be after lindin' me yer assistance to
cut affthe purty little heads uv 'em?' asked Katy, laugh-
ing. Cast yer eyes this way a minute, Miss Gracie, if
ye'd like to see the nate little job.'
But Grace sprang past the children, and rushed
through the door-way, giving only one shuddering
glance at the sharp knife and long-pronged steel fork
which Katie was brandishing above the luckless terra-
pins. A shout of laughter rang after her, and Katy's
Irish brogue,-
'Jist look at the cut of her, now Is it born in the
woods she was, that she can't bear the smell o' the say ?'
But Grace flew up the stairs, and never rested till she
reached the old hiding-place in the garret. She was
firmly convinced that the children were pursuing her
with one of the horrid crawling things; and she could not
bring herself to go down stairs until Annie, as usual, came
to look for her, and assured her that the terrapins were
all killed, and Katy was busy dressing them for supper.
SFor supper 1 Who could eat such creatures ?'
Grace asked in disgust.
SOh, lots of people eat 'em,' answered Annie, laughing.
'Gentlemen, especially, are very fond of them; and papa
ordered these for a little supper-party that he has to-
night. We won't be bothered with them.'
'I am glad of it,' said Grace, as she crept out of her
corner. 'I hope I shall never see one again. But how
did you know I was frightened about them, Annie?
Did Charlie and Bab tell you ? '
Yes,' said Annie, they told, of course. They thought
it was great fun.'
" 'And Lizzie knows,-and Jack, too, I suppose?' ex-
claimed Grace. 'And they will all be laughing at me
and teasing me when I go down ? Oh, I wish I was at
home I wish my father would come for me!'



And the poor child burst into a fit of nervous crying,
which Annie had hard work to soothe. She kissed her
and coaxed her, and promised that no one should say a
word to her about it; she would tell her mother if they
did. And so at last Grace was persuaded to come down
stairs and join her cousins in the schoolroom. They
were all amusing themselves with a paper balloon that
Ned had just manufactured,-a brilliant affair in tissue-
paper, all covered with flowers and gaudy ornaments,
and having only one fault in its construction, which was,
that it obstinately declined to ascend.
All eyes and thoughts were engrossed by the paper
marvel; so Grace, for once, was not attacked. And to
her surprise no allusion was made to the matter, even
on the next day, though she nervously expected and
dreaded it. She felt greatly relieved as the time passed,
and nobody mentioned the terrapins; and she finally
concluded that Annie had really persuaded them to
leave her in peace for once. She would not have been
so satisfied if she had guessed the real reason of their
That night Mr. and Mrs. Lyon were invited to a tea-
party in the neighbourhood; so the children had supper
by themselves, and liberty to spend the evening as they
chose. They had a merry time, of course, as children
always do in the absence of their elders, and bed-time
was postponed indefinitely.
Lizzie was the first one to go up finally, and Jack
slipped out after her quietly, unnoticed by the rest. He
ran into the schoolroom on his way up, and brought
out, from one of his peculiar hiding-places, a large shell,
which he gave to Lizzie, at the door of the girls' room,
and stood watching her as she carefully hid it between
the sheets of Grace's bed.
'Look out for squalls presently,' he said, laughing, as



Lizzie smoothed the covers carefully down. Hadn't
you better warm it first, Liz ?'
'Of course she'll scream,' was the answer. 'But
there's nobody to hear her, you know; and there's one
thing good about her, Jack-she never tells tales.'
Yes, that's true,' Jack assented. 'And if she wasn't
such a ridiculous little goose, it would be a sin to play
tricks on her. But she really ought to be cured-
oughtn't she?'
'Of course. And it is all nonsense, too, her having a
hot iron in her bed every night, to warm her feet. We
don't have one to warm ours.'
'She will be charmed with the one you have given
her to-night,' said Jack, comically. And just then, an
opening door, and the sound of voices on the stairs,
announced that the others were coming up to bed. So
Jack slipped into his own room, and Lizzie pretended to
be very busy with her undressing, when Grace and
Annie came in together. Annie had not been taken
into counsel this time,-Jack and Lizzie remembering
the affair with the mask. So she and Grace chatted
together gaily, quite unconscious of any plot.
'I shall be glad of my warm iron to-night,' Grace said,
as she climbed into her crib, after saying her prayers.
Come, get in with me, Annie, and I'll give you a piece
of it.'
Better find out if you've got one, first,' said Lizzie,
mischievously. Bridget forgets sometimes.'
So Grace stretched out her bare feet, expecting to
find the comfortable foot-warmer, as usual; but instead
she met the clammy touch of the cold sheet.
'Oh!' she exclaimed, with a little scream. 'It's as
cold as ice. Bridget has made up my bed, and left the
cold iron in it, I declare !'
She drew back the bedclothes, and put down her


hand to draw it out, but grasped, instead, what she
supposed was one of those dreadful creatures, with horrid
head and claws, alive I
Lizzie waited, and Jack listened breathless outside
the door, for the wild shriek and spring which they
expected would follow instantly. But it did not come.
Grace's trembling lips could not utter a cry. She stag-
gered out of bed, white, and deathly sick. You will
kill me yet with your cruelty,' she gasped; then she
tottered backward, the room seemed to swim and reel
before her eyes, and the poor little fragile form dropped,
fainting, to the floor.
Lizzie-all unprepared, as we may well believe, for
such an ending as this to her 'harmless' joke-sprang
towards her, to prevent the fall. But instead of saving
Grace, she only overthrew a table in the way, upon
which stood the lamp which had lighted them to bed.
This was shivered, of course, in the fall, and the oil
streamed in every direction, the burning wick igniting
it, and the greedy flame licking it up as it flowed.
It was now Lizzie's turn to know the terror which she
had so often thoughtlessly inflicted upon her cousin.
She screamed aloud in the double fear that she had
killed Grace and set the house on fire; and Annie join-
ing in the outcry, the room resounded with shrieks, which
soon brought the whole household to the spot.
Jack was the first to rush in, being so close at hand;
and he and Lizzie together .1i : -_ 1. Grace out of the
reach pf the flames, and lifted her, apparently lifeless, to
a bed. The servants, who were still up, came hurrying
to the room, and pails of water were brought in all
haste, so that the fire was soon extinguished. No great
injury was done ; only the carpet was drowned in water,
so that it was quite impossible for any one to sleep there
that night; and Lizzie's hands were "'.il;, scorched by



the frantic efforts she had made to draw her cousin out
of the way of the burning fluid.
But Grace-poor little Grace !-lay white and mo-
tionless still, in her death-like swoon. The children
gathered round her, half wild with terror, making vain
attempts to rouse her, and longing for their parents'
return, even while they so much dreaded the displeasure
that would certainly follow. How many promises and
vows they made in their own hearts, never, never to play
tricks upon her again, if only she got over this, I could
not begin to tell I You may be sure that Annie congratu-
lated herself most heartily on having had nothing to do
with this affair; though she did not say a single reproach-
ful word to Lizzie, and pitied her, with all her might, for
the trouble she had brought upon herself.
In the midst of the excitement, and before Grace had
fairly recovered her consciousness, the sound of wheels
on the gravelled drive was heard. Ned ran down to
open the hall door, supposing that his father and mother
had returned, and wishing to prepare them for the com-
motion in the house. But it was not the familiar home-
carriage that had stopped at the entrance, nor the pretty,
long-tailed grey ponies, that ,Ned would have known in
the dark anywhere. The vehicle was a waggon, drawn
by a horse quite in keeping with it: and the gentleman
who sprang over the wheel on to the door-step, was not
Mr. Lyon certainly. Ned did not know him at all, and
stared at him in a bewildered way; but the gentleman
came in with a confident air, as if he knew he should be
welcome, in spite of the lateness of the hour.
'Is Mr. Lyon not at home ? or has he retired?' he
asked of Ned. It is late, I know, for an arrival; but
I have travelled straight through from Rochester, with-
out stopping. Don't you know me, my boy? I am
your Uncle Harvey-little Grace's father.'



If he had been a rocket, just dropped, with a very
long stick, or a comet recently alighted, and ready to
extinguish the world, as comets are always going to do
and never have done yet, he could hardly have been a
more unwelcome visitor to the young Lyons at this
particular crisis. Ned stared at him so long before he
found voice to speak, that Mr. Harvey began to have
rather a poor opinion of the boy's breeding. He managed
to speak at last, however, and to say, with tolerable
'Oh, Uncle Harvey I beg your pardon for not
knowing you at first, sir; but papa and mamma are
away from home this evening, and I thought-I expected
when I came to the door-to see them. Won't you
please to walk into the parlour ? There's a fire there,
and papa will soon be at home now, I think.'
And how is my little girl ? I suppose she has gone
to bed long ago,' asked Mr. Harvey.
SYes, sir,' stammered Ned, 'I believe she did, some
time ago. I'll go up and send somebody to tell ler,
though. I believe she isn't very well to-night.'
And Ned was glad to escape, without waiting for any
more questions.
Here's a pretty kettle of fish 1' he muttered to him-
self, as he went up-stairs. 'Hasn't Jack put his foot
into it now? Oh, I rather think he has '
And Jack thought so too, and Lizzie agreed with him,
when Ned's comical face, looking perplexed, amused,
and frightened, all at once, was seen in the door-way
of the chamber where Grace had been carried. Katie,
and Bridget, and Maggie, and Nora-all the women-ser-
vants of the household-were there; and with their
burned vinegar, their cold water, their camphor, and I
don't know what else, they had succeeded in breaking
the fainting-fit. Grace sat up in the midst of them,



pale and languid, bewildered at the crowd around her,
and -Ii .,1. -.1;,., to remember what had happened, when
Ned burst in with his startling news-
Haven't you been and done it now, amongst you?
Here's her father, down stairs, and what are you ever
going to say to him, I'd like to know!'
He did not see, in his eagerness, that Grace was awake
and listening to him; but she had heard the magic name,
and it lent wings to the little feeble body. One spring
from the bed-from the many hands stretched out to
hold her back, a flying race around the hall, and down
two flights of stairs; and then a little white-robed figure,
with bare feet, with wild-looking curls tossed back from
a wild-looking face, breathless, panting, sobbing with
delight, rushed into the parlour, and sprung into her
father's arms.
There was nothing in all the world that could frighten
Grace now.

., -



ITH the party up-stairs the case was different.
Like the young bear' you have heard of,
their troubles were all before them.' And
the look of dismay on Lizzie's face was almost
ludicrous, as she sat on the edge of the bed wringing
her burned hands, and listened to Ned's description of
Uncle Harvey's arrival.
What will he think of us? What will papa and
mamma say? Oh, what will any of us do?' she asked,
at last, in a hopeless tone of voice.
'If we weren't so big, we might both of us get a good
L.:.- ;,,. and that would be the end of it,' said Jack,
comically. 'I wish we might, with all my heart, and
get rid of the awful lecture. But, oh dear !'
SI hope it will be a lesson to you, at any rate,' said
Ned. It really is a shame, the way you and Liz have
tormented that child. I set my face against it from the
first, but you never would listen to me.'
SI wish we had,' groaned Lizzie. I wish we had let
her be a baby all the days of her life.'
'I don't see as you've helped her ,growth much,' Ned
retorted, dryly; at which Annie was so much amused,
that, in spite of her pity for Lizzie, and her general per-
plexity, she could not help bursting into a laugh. And
then Jack laughed, and Ned laughed, and even Lizzie
joined in with a 1-, ;. Id.- 1 giggle.


'Well, I'll tell you what,' said Jack, finally, when the
merriment had subsided, 'you may take my hat, Ned,
and all my old shoes to boot, if ever you find me in such'
a scrape again. I'm done with practical jokes from this
time forward.'
SI'm glad to hear it,' was Ned's reply. We've all of
us been too conceited and self-satisfied, thinking our way
was the only way; and it's time we learned something
better. It won't hurt us to eat a little humble-pie;
and it's my opinion that the sooner we go down stairs
and tell Uncle Harvey we're sorry, the better it will be
for us.'
'I shouldn't wonder,' Jack assented, though with rather
a wry face.' It's good-natured of you though, Ned, to
say us and we, as if you had had anything to do with it.
You and Annie are out of this,-it's only Liz and I'
'Oh, we're all in the same boat, when you come to
the root of the matter,' Ned returned. I've been just
as bad in other things; so let's all pull together.'
'Hadn't we better wait till mother comes home?'
asked Annie, who rather dreaded this meeting with her
strange uncle in such unfavourable circumstances.
'No, no!' was the hasty reply from both Jack and
Ned. Let's have it over at once. Come along, Liz.'
And Lizzie got up, without remonstrance, looking
more subdued than anybody had ever seen her before,
and followed her brothers out of the room.
It was a funny little procession that marched into the
parlour, and Mr. Harvey looked up at the grave, ashamed
faces in surprise and amusement, not at all understanding
the solemnity of the affair. Grace was wiser: she guessed
in a moment what they had come for, and sprang up
from her father's knee with a deprecating cry.
'Oh, Jack, you needn't! Lizzie, there's nothing to
tell! Papa knows all about it, and it's no matter.'


But Mr. Harvey's inquiring look did not show that
he knew all about it.
'You told me there had been an accident,-a lamp
upset,-and that you were all very much frightened,' he
said. But there seems to be something more than this,
and I would like to hear what your cousins have to say."
'So you shall, sir,' exclaimed Jack, before Ned or
Grace could speak. 'It was very generous of Grace
only to tell you that, for we frightened her almost to
death. We meant it for a joke, and we didn't think she
would mind it so much,-and we're very sorry,' he said,
coming abruptly to the end of his speech.
For what?' asked Mr. Harvey, puzzled still. 'Did
you break the lamp for a joke?'
SOh, no!' exclaimed two or three voices in chorus;
and Lizzie blurted out-
'I put the shell in her bed,-that was what frightened
'And then she fainted, you know,' exclaimed Annie,
'and fell down, and struck the table where the lamp
'And the lamp was smashed,' put in Ned, 'and all
the stuff in it caught fire, and ran over the floor like
blazes. And the girls screamed, and the "Biddies" all
came flying up-stairs, and went to slopping pails of
water over everybody; and poor little Grace came near
being burned, only Liz dragged her out, and got her
own hands scorched instead. And just then we heard
the carriage at the door, and we thought it was papa;
and I ran down to speak to him, and it was you.'
'And he came up and told, papa,' exclaimed Grace in
her turn; and I flew down stairs in my night-gown,
and here I am now,-and that's all. It was only a
joke, as Jack says,-and I was very silly to mind it. So
there; don't say another word about it, anybody 1'



She had seated herself again on her father's knee, and,
with her head nestled close to his breast, she looked
the picture of content and happiness. Her father had
wrapped her up in his large travelling-shawl, so that
the night-gown was not visible; but one little bare foot
peeped out beneath its folds, and her ruffled cap hung
by its strings amidst a mass of tangled curls. At any
other time the well-bred and demure little maiden would
have been sadly ashamed to be seen in such disorderly
costume; but she was too full of satisfaction to care
about it now. Her father was there; she was in his
arms, loved and caressed to her heart's content; and all
her past wretchedness was forgotten in the present de-
light. In its fulness she was ready and anxious to for-
give everything and everybody, and unwilling that her
cousins should suffer even for this last persecution, whose
consequences had been so serious.
But her cousins were too honest and frank to let
themselves be shielded by her generosity, and the whole
story came out finally, one and all making full confession
of their misdeeds towards Grace. She, on her part,
protested that she had been selfish and disagreeable, and
it was no wonder they teased her,-how could they help
it, when she was so dreadfully silly ?
It was, altogether, quite a touching scene of mutual
confession, penitence, and forgiveness. The girls all
cried, and Mr. Harvey found it difficult to say a word
of reproof on either side, when all were so ready to
blame themselves. The return of Mr. and Mrs. Lyon in
the midst of it, made a diversion. The adventures of
the evening, of course, had to be repeated to them; and
the lecture' that Jack dreaded so came at last, with
sufficient sternness, from his father's lips.
I need not repeat what he said, nor Jack's manly
acknowledgment that he deserved it all. It is only


necessary to tell you that the children, one and all,
volunteered a solemn promise never again to torment
Grace with their practical jokes; and she promised, as
freely, that she would try very hard to overcome her
foolish fears. Then Mrs. Lyon declared that Grace
would catch her death of cold if she was not put to bed
immediately. So, upon this, the children all kissed
her, a general forgiveness was bestowed, and everybody
went to bed at last, with light hearts and consciences
Grace slept soundly all night-the sweetest sleep that
she had ever known at Hollybrook; and she waked up
in the morning with the feeling that something pleasant
had happened to her, though at first she could not quite
recollect what it was. It flashed over her quickly
enough, and she sprang out of bed with the joyful re-
membrance: 'Papa is here!'
It was not quite so delightful a thought to the others.
Lizzie, in particular, felt -...'.i,,,- 1 ashamed of herself
when she took her seat opposite her uncle at the break-
fast-table. Nothing was said, however, of last night's
scenes, and Mr. Harvey talked so agreeably that every
one soon felt at ease.
After breakfast he went out to drive with Mr. Lyon.
Grace was allowed to squeeze herself between them;
but the rest saw no more of him till dinner-time. In
the afternoon, however, he proposed a walk in the
woods, and invited the whole flock to accompany him.
So they started off,-sturdy little Charlie trolling on one
side of Uncle Harvey, while Grace clung to his hand on
the other. And first they walked by the cow-pasture,
where Grace had been so often victimized; then down
the lane to the mill-pond, where the frogs had such a
queer taste for being shot; and so on up into the woods,
where they sat down at last in their favourite resting-



place-a sloping bank, carpeted 1... :i.l .''1, pine leaves,
and shut in from the broad pathway by a semicircle of
stately trees.
A fallen tree-trunk, with a great variety of knobs and
lopped-off branches sticking out in all directions, made
a seat for the girls to perch upon. The boys threw
themselves at full length on the slippery brown carpet;
and Mr. Harvey took possession of a nice, old, lichen-
covered rock, that seemed to have grown there expressly
for a seat. The walk, and the familiar talk by the way,
had removed all sense of constraint from the party; and
even Charlie and Barbara chattered on as freely as if
they had known Uncle Harvey all their lives.
It was just what he wanted,-to make them feel at
ease with him, so that he might see them as they were,
and understand the various characters of the children,
before he made up his mind to leave Grace once more
to their tender mercies. She did not know what was in
his mind, or think of anything just then but the hap-
piness of being with him; and they were all a little
startled when he said suddenly-
There's a question to be decided amongst you young
people, and I think I will put it to the vote, in the
popular election style: -.!! I leave Grace at Holly-
brook, or take her back to Rochester to-morrow ?'
There was no answer, for a moment, in the general
surprise. Lizzie glanced up quickly to see if her uncle
were smiling, but dropped her eyes as' they met his,
looking quite serious and earnest, and grew very red.
Annie was the first to speak.
You don't mian to take Grace away, Uncle Harvey?
We don't want her to go,-we won't let her go she
exclaimed, warmly.
And Ned and Jack chimed in-
'We vote for her to stay,-all of us do, df course.


Grace Harvey-Page 58.

. r I


You say so, Liz, I know;* so do Charlie and Bab. Why,
we couldn't do without her now,-could we, Gracie ?'
Do you really care ?' asked Grace, blushing, partly
with pleasure, partly with a sense of shame, as she re-
membered the letter she had written, begging to be
taken away.
'You know I care!' exclaimed Annie, reproachfully.
But I don't think Lizzie likes me much,' Grace
'Then you are a little goose,' said Lizzie, bluntly. 'I
always said you were, and now you've proved it, As if
I would have taken the trouble to tease you if I had not
liked you I'
Grace laughed, and her father smiled: 'Then the
teasing was a proof of your affection, was it, Lizzie ?'
It was to cure her of being silly. I didn't want her
to be a coward, and I thought-'
That a hair of the dog was the best remedy for the
bite?' interrupted Mr. Harvey, laughing. 'I did not
understand the object in view before, and I am glad to
know it was such a praiseworthy one. But let me ask
if the results produced, so far, have justified the means.
Is Grace cured of her cowardice, or not ?'
'Not yet,' they were forced to acknowledge. And
Mr. Harvey went on-
I should advise you to pursue another system, then,
since this seems to have failed. Suppose, instead of
putting shells in her bed, or throwing frogs and worms
at her, you taught her something about them that would
interest her. I dare say, living in the country all your
lives, and spending so much time out of- doors, that you
know a great deal about animals, and insects, and birds.
You could tell how and where they build their nests or
burrow their holes, where they lay their eggs, what sort
of food they like, what curious habits many of them



have,-with a great many more things that Grace would
like to hear, and that might overcome some of her foolish
'Jack could do that!' exclaimed Annie, eagerly. 'He
has boxes full of dead things,-worms, and beetles, and
butterflies; and he knows just where to find them.
Snakes, too: he has ever so many little snakes in bottles.'
Very good,' said Mr. Harvey. I leave the sugges-
tion for Jack, then; since he, too, has been interested in
curing Grace's faults. What"do you say, Jack?-will
you give her lessons in natural history?'
'I'll teach her all I know; that isn't much,' Jack an-
swered, modestly.
'There is something else I would like to remind you
of,' said Mr. Harvey. 'There is a text in the Bible
which says, We that are strong ought to bear the infirmities
of the weak, and not to please ourselves." I don't think any
of you have remembered this winter-by way of excuse
for her, I mean-how much weaker than yourselves your
cousin is.'
'That's so,' Jack assented, penitently; and Lizzie
nodded her head without speaking.
'As for Grace,' i! Harvey continued, 'the text is a
rule for her, as well as for the rest of you. She is too
apt to please herself, in her own way, without thinking
of what would please others. Isn't it so, Grace ? '
'Yes, papa, I know it,' Grace answered, softly. 'I am
afraid I have been very selfish all the time. But I
never meant to be; only it was so much trouble to walk,
and to play, and always be doing something, as Lizzie
and Annie were. I liked sitting still so much better
myself, and I didn't think how often I hindered the
others, and spoiled their pleasure. I see now, though.
I have been just as wrong in my way as they have in


'Seeing our faults is the first step towards mending
them,' said her father, kindly. I have hope of you all,
since you have shown that you can bear to be reproved.
And now the lecture is ended. We'll shut up the old
book, and begin a new one. Do you all agree ?'
There was a hearty response, in full chorus, 'Yes,
we do!' and then the twilight shadows in the woods
warned them that it was time to go home. So they
shook off the dry leaves clinging to jackets and pelisses,
gathered up their treasures of cones and holly-berries,
and marched out of the woods, well satisfied with
Uncle Harvey's lecture,' and each with a good resolve
at heart.
The sun, looking like a ball of red fire, dropped below
the pine-trees as they came out into the lane-; and the
frogs and toads began to croak and 'yaup' in their usual
vociferous fashion, as the winter twilight darkened softly
around. But Grace did not dislike their noisy chattering
as she once did. Indeed, she never i ...!r, about it,
for her little hand was clinging to her father's, and she
felt protected and sheltered from everything.
The only trouble was, he was going away to-morrow.
But even in that she was comforted, for he had promised
to come again, certainly, at Easter; and things were
so different, too, from what they were before he came !
Now her cousins knew him and liked him, and they
could all talk about him together, and-look forward to
his next visit. Now they all were good friends, too,-
she and her cousins,-and understood one another so
much better; and, altogether, they were going to be
very happy for ever after.
So Grace thought in her hopeful musings as she
walked by her father's side. And the thoughts of
the other children were a good deal the same, only
softened with a sense of regret for past unkindness,



never fully realized till now, and a determination to
' bear with the infirmities of the weak more patiently in
Certainly there was a better foundation for peace and
happiness among the little flock than there had ever been

;..,,' " 4.7 ...' .":. --



'TT^ ; T was quite dark when they reached home, and
,,",.j * the pretty parlour looked a picture of comfort
*:L J a.i and cheerfulness as they came in. There were
no lamps lighted; but the firelight was glow-
ing on the walls, and the funniest shadows bobbing up
and down, as the children moved about the room.
'I wish we could have a story!' Annie said, by and
by, when they had all been sitting silent for a while.
SSo do I,' said Barbara. 'I wish mother would tell
as one.'
Not to-night,' said Mrs. Lyon. I must go down and
prepare your father's tea.- Ask your Uncle Harvey; I
dare say he knows a great many stories.'
She put up her knitting-work as she said this, and
went out of the room. So Barbara knew a story from
her was out of the question; and in her disappointment
the little lady showed symptoms of what the children
called 'the sulks.' Grace saw the pouting lips and
clouded brow by the light of the fire, and hastened to
do what she could to bring back the smiles.
Papa will tell us a story, I dare say, Barbie,' she said
quickly. 'There's a funny one he used to tell me, a
long time ago, about the Black Beetle,-you remember,
papa. Tell it to us now,-won't you? It's just the
time for stories, in Blind-man's holiday.'
The Black Beetle was not a favourite of yours once,


GRACE I ; i-'i V.

Gracie,' her father answered, smiling. 'I wonder at
your choosing that.'
Oh, I don't care now; they may laugh at me if they
like,' Grace returned brightly. And the others all were
curious to know what they were to laugh at; so Mr.
Harvey began at once the story of

There was once a little girl who had'a funny name;
not so queer by itself, because it was an old, classical
name, and belonged to a person that was celebrated in
ancient history; but very odd, indeed, when considered as
the title of this particular little girl.
Hero was the name; and anybody would imagine that
the person called by it should naturally be a very brave
and courageous person. On the contrary, this Hero was
the greatest little coward in the world: she was afraid
of her own shadow, as people say; and if she saw a cow
in the meadow, or a strange little dog in the yard, or
even a poor old pussy cat sunning herself on the garden
fence, she would rush into the house, and cling to her
mother, trembling and shuddering, as if she had seen
some awful wild beast.
All this, of course, mortified her mother d. ,.il-ly.
She had a great contempt for people who gave way to
such silly fears, and she tried in many ways to cure her
little daughter of them. But her efforts were quite use-
less. In spite of coaxing and reasoning, reproof and
punishment, Hero still continued to shiver at the sight
of a little red ant, or a miserable cockroach; to run in
terror if a spider or a worm crossed her path, and to
scream till the whole house was aroused if she happened
to wake up at night and find herself alone in the dark.
You may be sure her mother was ashamed of having
called her Hero.' It sounded so ridiculous to be saying


all the time, 'Hero is such a coward!' 'There's Hero
running away from a mouse 1' 'Hero's screaming be-
cause there's a caterpillar on her frock !' Hero's afraid
of her own shadow!' People laughed outright when
they heard the comical name ; and her brother Leonard,
who was as bold as a lion, never called her anything but
Shero,' in his contempt for her cowardice.
One rainy day, when the little girl was about eight
years old, she was obliged to stay away from school.
The wind blew till all the windows in the house rattled
again, and the trees on the lawn were bent almost
double; the rain beat down like bullets on the gravel
walk, and out in the street there seemed to be a muddy
river rushing along. It was too stormy to think of going
to school, and Hero was not at all sorry; for a holiday
now and then was as pleasant to her as it is to any other
little girl.
She stood by the nursery window and watched the
trees,-the willows with their long hair streaming wildly
about as the wind swept down upon them, the horse-
chestnuts, and the elms with their great branches, creaking
and tossing to and fro. She saw the tall dahlias beaten
down, and the yellow stream of water that went rushing
down the carriage-drive to meet that in the street beyond.
It was all pleasant to look at for a while, for there was
no thunder or lightning, and Hero was not afraid of wind
and rain when she stood inside of a warm nursery, with
her mother close by her. She grew tired of it, however,
by and by; and then her mother said to her,-
Why don't you go down stairs, Hero, and stay with
Leonard, in the dining-room ? He is pasting pictures in
his scrapbook, and you can ask him to let you help him.'
Oh, so I will!' Hero answered; and she started off
eagerly, for she liked to play with Leonard, and, in spite
of her being such a coward, he was very kind to her.



He lent her his dominoes and his solitaire-board whenever
she wanted them, and when he pasted in his scrapbook,
he often gave her pictures, and showed her how to put
them in properly.
Which was all right, you know. But a great many
brothers would have said, Don't bother,' or Get out of
my way,' and sent the little sister off when they were
busy about their own affairs.
Hero knew Leonard would not, and she ran out into
the hall, thinking how nice it would be to cut out pictures,
and, may be, be allowed to paste some in the big book.
Her hand was on the balustrade, and one foot on the
stairs, when all at once something black caught her eye
at the foot of the staircase. The oilcloth in the hall was
very light, almost white indeed, for it was in imitation
of marble; so anything dark showed upon it very plainly.
The thing that Hero saw looked extremely black by con-
trast; but what it was she could not very well see,,
standing, as she did, at the top of a long flight of stairs,
while this lay at the bottom.
Anybody but such a little coward would have gone
closer, and found out if it was anything to be afraid of.
But one glance was enough for Hero; it was a black
thing, it looked like a beetle, and it lay just in the way
where she would have to pass. She started back in
terror, and nothing would have induced her to go down
stairs while the object lay there. At the same time she
very much wished to go down, not only because of
Leonard and the scrapbook, but because she knew her
mother would inquire why she stayed up-stairs, and she
would be ashamed to tell the reason.
So she stood on the top step for at least ten minutes,
peeping over the bannisters every now and then to see if
the beetle had moved out of sight. But no ; there it lay
still on the white oilcloth, looking black and ugly, but



never stirring from its place. And poor Hero at last
grew so cold, between her nervous terror and the damp,
chilly hall, that she was forced to creep back into the
nursery, notwithstanding her dread of her mother's
questions. Her mother looked up from her work as she
came in, and said, with some surprise,-
'I thought you were going down stairs, Hero. What
has happened to you ?' for she saw in the little girl's face
that there was some trouble.
But of course Hero did not want to tell, and she
answered, 'Oh, nothing I don't want to go down now.'
'Why not?' asked her mother.
'Because I don't,' said Hero.
'There is some reason for that,' her mother said, and I
want to know what the reason is. Tell me at once, Hero.'
Then Hero began to whine. I can't go down stairs,'
she said, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand,
and looking exceedingly miserable.
'If I might ask, why ?' said her mother.
'Because--there's a great big black beetle lying on
the oilcloth just where I have to pass,' whined Hero.
'Ah !' said her mother. 'I thought it would be
something like that. A great big black beetle I And I
suppose it is at least as large as an elephant, with a
mouth like a tiger,-is it not, Hero?'
'No, it isn't,' retorted Hero, ready to cry; but it is
a big black beetle; and you needn't laugh at me, either.
Anybody would be afraid of such an ugly thing I'
And she went pouting back to the window, to watch
the Tain again, wishing, angrily, that all the beetles in
the world might be drowned in it. Her mother said no
more, but she sighed as she looked at the sullen face of
the child, made so unhappy by her own folly; and her
wish was, that she might only soon find some way to
cure her of her silly and cowardly fears.



An hour passed by very slowly and drearily to Hero,
There was no one to talk to, for her mother sat quite
silent, stitching away with all her might, and Hero was
ashamed to speak to her. The rain, that had looked
pleasant at first, only seemed dismal now; and there
was nothing to do, for she was tired of all the nursery
books and toys, and only wanted to be in the dining-
room with Leonard and the scrapbook.
'I can't stand this any longer,' she thought at last.
'I'll go and see if that beetle hasn't crawled away.'
So she slipped out of the room, went to the head of
the stairs, and looked cautiously down,-only to start
back with a shiver the next minute. The ugly thing
was there still I
Oh dearly is it going to stay for ever?' thought Hero.
Shall I never get down stairs again ?' and she went
Lack to the nursery more disconsolate than ever.
Her mother glanced up as she came in, but did not
speak to her; and another long time crept by in dreary
silence. A pleasant, fruity odour reached Hero's nose
by and by-the smell of juicy apples roasting before the
fire. She knew that Leonard was doing it,-nobody
roasted apples so nicely as he; for he had a knack of
tying a string to their stems so that they never pulled
out, and fastening it up to the mantle-shelf so that they
never tumbled down, and giving it such a peculiar
twist that they always twirled round and round until all
sides of the apple were most .... i.lrii;, browned, and
it was tender all the way through. She had very little
doubt that he was roasting one for her as well as for
himself, for he was always kind to her, and she longed
to go down and get it. But how could she? That
wretched beetle I she was sure it was in the way still.
However,-as the smell of the apples grew more sweet
and strong,-it would do no harm to go and-look again.



Accordingly Hero went, and found the black beetle
exactly in the same spot where she had first seen it.
Evidently it was in comfortable quarters, and had no
intention of moving out of them.
She leaned over the bannister in great distress and
perplexity. I think ,. ..7. might come and take the
thing away,' she said to herself, with a fretful sigh ; and
she had half a mind to call Leonard, and ask him to do
it. But she remembered quickly how he always laughed
at and scolded her for such things, and she knew it
would be useless to ask his help. The kitchen was too
far off for the servants to hear her ; and, besides, her
mother would not allow them to assist her, even if they
heard. She could think of nothing in the world to do,
and was just on the point of bursting into tears, when
the dining-room door opened suddenly, and Leonard
came out.
'I-ullo, Hero-Shero! What are you doing up there?
Come down and get a roasted apple,' he called out, as
he caught sight of her little forlorn face peeping over
the stair-rail.
SI can't,' replied Hero, very dismally.
'Why not? Have you been punished ?'
SNo-o,' drawled Hero.
'Why don't you come down, then?' asked Leonard,
SI don't want to,' said Hero. Which was a very
wrong story, as you all know, when she wanted nothing
else so much. But she knew he would laugh at her, so
that she did not dare to tell the truth; and consequently
she had the mortification of hearing him say, as he
walked back to the dining-room,-
Oh, very well If you don't want to, it's nothing to
me. Stay where you are, by all means. I can eat the
apples myself.'



Leonard was proud, you see, like most boys, and
when he offered a favour didn't like to have it refused.
As for poor little Hero, why, it served her right, of
course, for being such a coward, and telling a wrong
story; but she was very miserable nevertheless, and this
time she could not help showing it. Just as soon as she
heard the dining-room door slam to, she sat down on the
stair-step, hid her face in her 'apron, and cried in good
earnest; For all that, the obstinate beetle never stirred;
and when she looked down into the hall again, after she
had cried till she was tired, it lay there still.
Never was there such a long morning. The nursery
seemed like a prison, and Hero thought she should die
of loneliness and fatigue. Twelve o'clock, one o'clock
came, and at last the lunch-bell rang. Her mother
folded up her work, and putit by.
SCome, Hero,' she said; 'I am going down to
'But, mother, that beetle's there still,' said Hero,
How absurd !' exclaimed her mother. It's time to
have done with this nonsense now, Hero. I insist upon
your coming down stairs immediately.'
She took the child by the hand, and drew her on in
spite of her reluctance. But at the head of the stairs
Hero paused, after one shuddering glance downward,
and declared she could not go a step farther.
'Where is the beetle ?' asked her mother. I see
There,' cried Hero, tremblingly, down there!'
And looking again, her mother really saw the terrible
object. She did not stop to wonder what it was, but
ran lightly down the steps, stooped to the floor, and the
next moment Hero grew cold with horror, for she saw
her mother actually take the thing up, and lay it out



upon her open bare hand. She laughed as she did so,
and said,-
'Come down, Hero, and take a look at your big
black beetle." I only want you to see what a wise child
you are.'
But Hero screamed at the mere idea. 'I can't! I
dare not! she cried, wild with terror, and started back
as if to escape to the nursery.
'Come down when I bid you,' her mother commanded,
sternly. Come this moment, I say, Hero.'
'Oh, no, no, no! I can't! I can't!' screamed the
child again.
'If you do not come instantly, you shall certainly be
punished,' her mother insisted; for she felt now very
much provoked. 'You really deserve a whipping, as it
is, and I shall give it to you, unless you obey at once.'
So Hero no longer dared to refuse. She crept down,
step by step, shivering in every limb, and her face as
white as the wall. Her mother held out the beetle as
she drew near.
Now look at it, and see what you have been afraid
of,' she said.
And Hero, though she screamed at the first glance,
was ready to sink with shame at the next, when she did
suffer herself to get a fair look at the thing. For, after
all, the fearful creature that had kept her a prisoner all
day, and caused her so many torments, was-what do
you think ?-a small piece of black silk! That was the
big black beetle !
Hero swallowed her lunch in shame and silence that
day. She looked so miserably mortified, that even
Leonard, after his first great guffaw of laughing, re-
frained from teasing her. As for her mother, she saici
a few earnest words to her, that for once made an im-



Hero determined, for the first time in her life, that
she would really try to conquer her foolish fears. More-
over, she said her !. '. s. over it, and asked to be helped
in her efforts to do right. You all know that when one
asks in that way, it is never in vain; and so you will
believe me, when I tell you that, in course of time, Hero
really ceased to be afraid of beetles and spiders, and
became a sensible child; so that her mother was no
longer ashamed of her name, and very often declared
that she had reason to be exceedingly thankful to lu,

There had been many comments and plenty of laughter
amongst the children during the progress of this story.
There was just enough resemblance between Grace and
the silly little Hero to give them room for merry ridicule
of their cousin, and the bringing up of a great many
instances in which Grace had shown herself hardly more
heroic. She bore it all very amiably, however,-let
them laugh, and laughed with them; and her father
accepted this as a good sign for the future.
Careless and merry talk followed the story. Ned said
it put him in mind of one. of the Original Poems for
Infant Minds,' that used to impress him -deeply when he
was a little fellow. Grace was the first to guess that he
meant the story of 'Benighted Henry,' and 'the tall white
guide-post;' and then Ned repeated the verses with
such a tragic emphasis when he came to 'the form of
horrid kind,' that
Upward rose in deadly white,
Of cloak or mantle bare,
And stretched its naked arms across
To catch him by the hair,'
that little Charlie grew frightened, and desired to have
the lamps lighted ina! I'1.. ._



His mother returned just at that crisis, and following
her came Nora, who speedily illuminated the room with
the soft radiance of an excellent lamp,-not so pic-
turesque, but more diffusive than the rosy lights and
shadows of the fire. Being satisfied on this point,
Charlie's next desire was one with which the party were
ready to sympathize by this time.
I'm so hungry I don't know what to do. I want my
supper, mother,' was his outcry. And Barbara echoed
it with,-
'So do I. And I hope Bridget made some cakes,-
did she, mamma ? And can't we have preserved peaches
to-night ?'
'Come and see,' said her mother; and a merry tinkle
across the hall just then announced that tea was waiting.
So they all obeyed the summons without delay, for the
walk had given everybody an appetite; and the nicely-
laid table, with its shining silver and snowy linen, was
enough to tempt one, even without the delicate viands
that the pretty dishes contained.
Mrs. Lyon had ordered her company tea-set' in
honour of Uncle Harvey ; and to Grace, who delighted
in pretty things, the delicate old china was more enjoy-
able even than the crisp cakes and delicious sweet-bread
which formed the substantial part of the meal. Bar-
bara's favourite preserved peaches were there, however,
and Grace's favourite raspberry-jam, in generous supply ;
while the cake-basket was heaped up high with half
a dozen varieties, and the old-fashioned japanned tea-
tray sent forth fragrant odours of coffee and chocolate
and tea commingled.
They laughed and jested with Grace about going away
with her father in the morning; for Mr. Harvey had
told her aunt about the letter. Mrs. Lyon wanted to
know if she should pack her trunks after tea; and Mr.



Lyon advised her to put in a Latin Grammar and
'For it would never do, you know, Gracie, to forget
all your Latin,' he said, gravely. 'You don't know
what a brilliant scholar she is turning out, Mr. Harvey.'
And at this the children began to laugh ; for it must
be confessed that Grace's Latin studies had not been
very profound, or very successful, so far. Grace joined
in the laugh against herself, and answered, merrily,-
'For all that, you need not think you will get rid of
your stupid scholar, Uncle Lyon; I shall stay on purpose
to bother you. But I know I never shall decline jus-
jurandum as long as I live !'
'You are strong on irregular verbs, though, Gracie,'
said Ned, mischievously.
And then came out a ridiculous story of how Jack
had crammed' Grace with some nonsensical inventions
of his own, when they had been required to give
examples from memory of irregular conjugations; and
how gravely she had repeated Lambano-sheepsomi-
baa!' and Henno, turkere, goosi, ductum,'-to the utter
confusion of Uncle Lyon, and the unbounded amusement
of her mischievous cousins.
Mr. Harvey could not help thinking that the poor
little timid stranger had had rather a trying time
amongst them all. But at the same time, he also
acknowledged inwardly that the results might have been
worse. Grace's rosy face and laughing eyes had a child-
like, happy, healthful look, which he had not seen them
wear before, since her mother died. Indeed, nobody
had seen Grace so gay and cheerful as she was now;
for the sense of restraint and dread under which she had
lived of late was at last removed, and with her mind at
ease, her naturally pleasant and affectionate disposition
had room to display itself.



She sat down on a little low ottoman beside her aunt,
when they had all returned to the parlour, and took her
hand caressingly between both her own.
L I didn't mean to be naughty when I wrote that letter
to papa,' she whispered, softly; and 1 loved you dearly
all the time, though I did ask him to take me away.'
SI don't wonder at your writing it, Gracie,' her aunt
answered, kindly; now I know how you were worried
and tormented here. I only blame you for not coming
to me with the whole trouble. I could have put a stop
to it so much sooner, if I had known what was going
SI didn't like to tell tales,' answered Grace; and I
don't care now about any of it. I shall never be so silly
or so miserable again, I know.'
'Then you don't want to leave us all just yet ?' asked
Mrs. Lyon, smiling.
Not if you will let me stay,' was Grace's shy reply.
'And when papa goes away from you to-morrow,-
how will it be then ?'
Oh, I will be good, till he comes again at Easter. It
will soon come, you know. And, aunty, I don't mean
to be a baby tied to your apron-string, as Lizzie says,
any longer. I will go out when the others do, and run,
and play, and get strong as they are. I have promised
papa, and I want you to help me keep my promise.'
Very well,' said her aunt; and Grace went on in a
still lower tone,-for their little talk was all aside' from
the rest of the family,-
Because, you know, I have been very selfish all this
time, never wanting to do what the rest did, and hinder-
ing them so often. Papa made me see that, and I don't
want to be so again. But I shall forget, unless some-
body puts me in mind, now and then.'
SI will put you in mind,' said her aunt, 'if I think



you need it. But you must not forget, Gracie, who will
be a better help to you than I can.'
'I know; I have asked Him already to help me,'
whispered Grace. And it is because I think He will,
that I feel so happy to-night. I cannot help feeling
happy, in spite of papa's going away.'
He will not object to that,' said Mrs. Lyon, laughing.
SI am sure he does not wish to see you pulling a long
face, and looking doleful on account of his going.'
No, I suppose he doesn't,' Grace laughed in return.
And then Lizzie and Annie came up, protesting against
the private conversation, and wanting Grace to join them
in guessing a puzzle which Ned had produced.
So here we will say Good-bye to our little heroine, for
Grace's visit had now come to an end. It was home
after this, by her own choice, and the loving consent of
her cousins, who adopted the better plan of making her
happy in future, in place of teasing her.
That none of them ever forgot or neglected their good
resolutions, I am not prepared to say; for, as the Latin
Grammar tells us, 'Errare est humanum,'-and the little
people at Hollybrook could not grow perfect in a day,
any more than the rest of mankind.' One thing I may
say, however,-that that particular shell never was put
between sheets again; for Grace took pains to get posses-
sion of it, and kept it secretly; and Lizzie got it as a
present, 'with Grace's love,' on her very next birthday !



(Scnm llhn t t Li lil4iit.1)s.

|I- L ;;-^ -> I.



'N the 30th of May 1853, the brig Advance set sail
from New York, bound for Baffin's Bay. The
SAdvance was a strong vessel and a good sailer;
but it was not on these accounts that many
hearts throbbed with warm interest, and many mouths
spoke good wishes at her departure. The Advance was
going on a message of mercy; she was going in search
of Sir John Franklin, an English explorer, who with his
party had been lost among the ice and snows of the north.
ELISIIA KENT KANE was in command of the Advance,
and he had seventeen men with him.
There were only three rules on board that vessel, but
they were to the point:
1. Absolute obedience to the commanding officer.
2. Abstinence from all intoxicating liquors, except
when ordered for some wise purpose.
B. Entire freedom from the use of profane lan-
Dr. Kane was to pass up P ii, .'z Bay as far north as
possible, and then press on towards the north pole in


boats or sledges, carefully examining the coasts for
traces of the lost party.
There were on board the Advance some noble New-
foundland dogs, who were to drag the sledges of the ex-
plorers, whenever they should be on land. These dogs
often gave a great deal of trouble. Not a bear's claw,
not a basket of mosses could be put down for a moment,
without their springing towards it, scrambling and yell-
ing, and swallowing the morsel at one mouthful. Dr.
Kane declares that he had even seen them attempt to
eat a whole feather-bed !
'Unruly, thieving, and ravenous' as were these dogs,
they had to be tenderly cared for, for on them the safety
of the travellers might depend, when all around them
was ice.
It is said that there is no human character without
some gentler feelings that may be touched by constant
kindness, and this is true in some degree with regard
to brutes. Even these \N.-- !..i11l i. 1 dogs, so like wild
beasts in their appetites, had yet a kind of affection
for their masters. At one time, although a comfortable
house had been provided for them at a distance from the
ice-bound brig, they could not be persuaded to sleep there.
'They preferred the bare snow, within the sound of their
masters' voices, to a warm kennel upon the rocks.'
The Advance, after a short stay at the Danish settle-
ments of South Greenland, passed northward up Baffin's
Bay, until it was at last locked fast in fields of ice. The
very sea was frozen around the vessel; and there, in the
midst of cold and desolation, with no humane visitor to
cheer their solitude, the crew of the Advance prepared
to pass the long winter of the Arctic regions. The brig
had become the fixed home of the little party, and they
made it as comfortable as possible. From this strange
home they made excursions along the coast in sledges,


and now they really began to understand the use and
value of the dogs that had before been so troublesome.
The small sledge, which seemed to be a particular
favourite with Dr. Kane, was called Little Willie.' It
was made of American hickory, and built with the
utmost care, so as to be at the same time light and
strong. The Newfoundland dogs were used for ordinary
labour; but the hardy Esquimaux dogs were the most
serviceable for long journeys over the dangerous ice,
which now covered sea and shore.
The dogs were not guided by bridles and bits, like
our horses; neither did they move by the word of .: l,-
mand, like our patient oxen. These strange animals,
more like wolves in appearance and nature than like
the dogs we are accustomed to see, were guided only by
the whip. This whip was of a most peculiar kind. Its
handle was only sixteen inches long, while the seal-hide
lash was six yards long. You can think how hard it
must have been to throw out such a long lash, with such
a short handle; yet by constant practice Dr. Kane and
his men learned to do it. What is there that cannot be
learned by perseverance ? They were not really good
sledge-drivers till they could hit at will any one of the
twelve dogs in the team, and remind him by the lash
which way he must go. The mere labour of using this
whip is such, that the Esquimaux (the natives of these
regions) travel in couples, one sledge after the other.
The dogs of the hinder sledge follow the first sledge
without the whip, and the drivers change about, so as
to rest each other.
One great danger in travelling over the frozen sea
is the cracks through the ice, leading to the deep cold
water below. Over these the brave dogs leap at a single
bound, carrying the light sledge safely after them. How
would you like to take such a ride ? You would have


to hold fast to the sledge when it went flying over the
ice-cracks, or you would be tossed out, and perhaps sink
into the dark waters.
Of what use would a horse, or an elephant, or a came]
be in these frozen regions ? How wonderful is the good-
ness of God, in providing beasts of burden suited to al
climates !
The same providential hand that has given the hardy,
patient, swift-footed dog to the Esquimaux, has provided
a kind of food suited to the people of these regions. Fat
they love, fat they need, and fat they have. Dr. Kane
and his party soon learned to eat solid lumps of blubber
with a relish, and to own that it was a necessary of life
in that cold climate.
The clumsy sea-creature the walrus, the curious seal,
and the awkward bear, yielded in turn their fat meat
to the crew of the Advance. The fox too, and the hare,
and the wild birds of the short summer appeared on the
table in their strange cramped dwelling-place.
When the real winter came, however, and the dark
night set in to last its dreary six months, the unfortu-
nate strangers had to rely chiefly on the stores of dried
and salted food they had brought with them for such an
hour of need. Such was the scarcity of fresh meat, that
Dr. Kane was at length able to eat rat's flesh with a
relish, though few of the crew were willing to join him.
Many, many were the trials endured through that
weary time of darkness. The absence of light itself was
most distressing. First the sun disappeared, and day
was only a twilight; then all was darkness. December
15, 1853, Dr. Kane writes: 'At mid-day we cannot see
print, and hardly paper; the fingers cannot be counted
a foot from the eyes. N....... i and midnight are alike!'
Ice was all around them in the darkness, and everything
on board seemed turning to ice. In the open air, what-


ever was touched with the bare hand froze fast to it.
The beard of a sleeper froze to his blanket, the very
eyelids were chained together by the frost.
Occupation is a source of cheerfulness at all times;
and so in the midst of the darkness it proved to the crew
of the Advance. Something was provided for every one
to do. Dr. Kane knew that a busy man was not likely to
be a 1;..-.-.u r..-l.1 or an unhappy man.
Carpentering, shoe and sock making, sewing, writing,
map drawing, and even cooking, went on, though there
was, by the eleventh of March, not a pound of fresh
meat on board, and only one barrel of potatoes left.
Perhaps you fancy those same potatoes soft, mealy, and
tempting, like those that come burning-hot to our own
tables. By no means. Potatoes were served up at every
meal, truly; but they were medicine for the poor, sick,
scurvy-tormented men of the Advance. The frozen
potatoes were grated down, mixed with oil, and so made
into such an abominable dose, that the hardy fellows
made as much of a fuss about taking it as a spoiled child
at a dose of salts.
February had been found by other voyagers the
coldest month of the polar year; but March was to
Dr. Kane's party equally if not more trying. Yet they
managed to bear it, and bear it J..I.. 111;,i:, considering
all that they suffered.
Strange-looking beings these Americans must have
been in their Greenland home! Think of a man in a
pair of seal-skin trowsers, a dog-skin cap, a reindeer
jumper (a fur coat with a hood of the same material),
and walrus boots! When such a traveller goes on a
journey, he stops at no hotels. He need not fear damp
sheets. He takes his bed and bedding with him. He
has a fur bag into which he can slip himself, feet first;
and then he draws a kind of fur tippet over his head,



leaving open just space enough for him to breathe
through, and he is fixed for the night, where the ther-
mometer is 40' below zero. If he has but a junk of
frozen raw meat with him, he is provided with a break-
fast, and will be ready, when he has eaten it, to give the
dogs a fresh start, and go off with his companions on a
new tour of search for the lost Sir John Franklin.
So Dr. Kane and his men learned to dress, eat, sleep,
and travel. Their necessities of life became few indeed.
Spring was coming at last; such a spring It makes
one chill to think of it. Spring was coming, and the
men began to revive and talk of home. The poor dogs
too, those that were left of them, gave signs of returning
strength. Out of nine :'.;.:-.-i..... i... and thirty-five
Esquimaux dogs, only six were still living, and they
were unfit for present use. The long darkness and the
excessive cold had been too much for them. A singular
disease had seized upon them, a real disease of the brain,
ending at last in death. The poor creatures could eat
and sleep well enough, but they vere actually crazy.
Sometimes they would sit for a long time in moody
silence, then suddenly start up, and run to and fro on
the deck for hours. No wonder that the poor brutes,
who were strangers in that dreary land, should have
been driven wild with ever waiting for the dawning of
day, with no one to tell them why the horrid night was
never cheered by a single ray of sunlight.
These valuable animals were 'tended, fed, cleansed,
caressed, and doctored,' but all to no purpose. One by
one they dropped away.
March had come. Don't think of pleasant spring, and
crocuses peeping up from their winter quarters. It was
in this month that, in an excursion over the snow and
ice, Dr. Kane and his men endured the most awful suffer-
ings from cold and exhaustion. Gladly would they have


laid down on the snow to sleep the sleep of death ; but
blind with 1!.- .. '..-, ;:11 .."- ii,.: sun on the ice, and stag-
gering with .. i-,. ., t.-- \ !i on, the stronger dragging
the more "1-1l.1 --, :i,.l :it .1 i they reached the brig,
wandering in mind, and utterly exhausted in body. One
ot ,i .: pI:' ',!i1-..-~!ti .1 for some time from blindness, two
o(ilI, I ii ..:. ri..-i of the foot cut off, and two died in
c..--..:, 'I.:, .:.1 I i they had undergone on that fearful
If April did not bring the soft showers, the budding
and renewing of life, which we welcome in our climate,
it brought to Dr. Kane's party something as pleasant.
This was the visit of a number of Esquimaux. Yes, the
crew of the Advance once more saw other human faces
than those of their companions in misfortune.
A wild, lawless set were those Esquimaux. Their
leader was a tall, 'powerfully-built man, with swarthy
complexion, and piercing black eyes. His dress was a
jumper of mixed white and blue fox-skins, arranged with
something of fancy, and booted trowsers of white bear-
skin, which at the end of the foot were made to terminate
with the claws of the animal.' Although this was the
first time he had ever seen a white man, he fearlessly
went with Dr. Kane on board the brig.
In due time the whole party followed. Then there
was confusion enough on the ice-bound vessel. The
Esquimaux spoke three or four at a time, laughed at the
ignorance of the crew in not understanding them, and
then talked away as before. They were incessantly in
motion, going everywhere, trying doors, and squeezing
themselves through dark passages, round casks and
boxes, out into the light again, anxious to touch and
handle everything they saw, asking for or else endea-
vouring to steal everything they touched.' At last, like
tired children, they went to sleep. They did not lie


down, but slept sitting, with the head dropped on the
breast, some of them snoring famously. Each one was
sure to have a piece of raw meat lying beside him; and
when he woke his first act was to eat, and then he was
ready for another nap. Every man ate when he felt
inclined; they did not seem to have any idea of taking
regular meals as we do. At length their %. it was over,
and away they went, men, dogs, and :i. .Is.,, gliding over
the ice as swiftly as they came.
The Arctic summer began at last, to the great joy of
the crew of the Advance. Seal, walrus, bears, foxes,
rabbits, hares, eider duck, and wild birds of-various.
kinds, suddenly swarmed in that hitherto silent region
The Arctic plants sent forth their flowers, and hope made
glad the hearts of the men.
The short Arctic summer was too soon over. The
stunted plants had borne their stunted fruit, and cast
their seed; and yet the ice lingered around the brig.
The Advance was still a prisoner. Sorrowfully her crew
prepared for another winter in their frozen home. A
number of them tried to escape in sledges, but they were
obliged to come back to the ice-bound brig, and share
the fate of their companions.
Through this second long winter they bore sickness
and cold and hunger, yet their brave commander never
despaired, never failed to set the example of patient,
cheerful, hopeful endurance.
Visits to the Esquimaux of these regions took place
through the winter and spring. The strangers learned
to crawl through the long narrow passage that leads from
the door to the interior of the small snow-covered huts.
There they could sleep among the heaps of naked natives:
there they could eat raw meat or soup of doubtful cookery
with almost as good an appetite as the greedy Esquimaux
themselves. The interior of these thronged huts is often


excessively warm, and their filth is such as to shock a
civilised man. Yet the Esquimaux are kind to the
stranger, and cheerfully share with him their scanty
Once 'murder, the burial of the living, the killing of
infants,' were common among them. Once a vessel
could not with safety touch upon their coast, whole
crews having been murdered by the wild natives. But
for the last hundred years Greenland has been safer
for the wrecked mariner than many parts of our own
The virtues which have been taught by the Christian
missionaries to those who have received Jesus as their
Saviour, have spread even among the heathen natives.
Here, as ever, a blessing has followed the arrival of the
noble men who have left all to preach Jesus to the
ignorant and degraded.
We cannot trace Dr. Kane and his party through all
their trials and adventures. On the 18th of May 1855,
the brig was finally abandoned; and by sledges and
boats the remains of the once hopeful party made their
way to South Greenland. They had not found Sir John
Franklin, but they had passed two winters farther north
than any Europeans had ever made their homes, and
gathered much information important to science. They
had proved the existence of an open sea beyond the ice
of the polar regions, a fact of the utmost value, and for
which the name of Dr. Kane will be long remembered.
For eighty-four days after abandoning the brig the
crew of the Advance had lived in the open air, under-
going all manner of dangers, privations, and hardships,
when they at last reached a Danish settlement, and, in
the midst of a crowd of children, for the last time hauled
their boats on the rocks.
So accustomed were the wayworn men to life in the


open air, that they could not at first remain within a
house without a distressing sense of suffocation. That
night they 'drank coffee before many an hospitable
threshold, and listened again and again to the hymn of
welcome, which, sung by many voices, greeted their
Truly it was a time for hymns of praise, a time for
thanksgiving to the God who had watched over and pre-
served them through all their wanderings.
A loft was fitted up for their reception as soon as they
could bear in-door life, and the humble Danes freely
shared their scanty stores with the broken-down sailors
of the Advance. The Christian kindness of these poor
Danes cannot be too much commended.
From this hospitable region the wanderers set sail in
a Danish vessel, and touched for a short stay at a more
southern port of Greenland. They were on the eve of
again embarking, when a look-out man on a hill-top
announced a steamer in the 1i: m..... -'T. drew near
with a bark in tow,' says Dr. Kane, and we soon re-
cognised the stars and stripes of America. The Faith'-
the boat in which the poor sufferers had escaped-' was
lowered for the last time into the water, and the little
flag which had floated so near the poles of both hemi-
spheres opened once more to the breeze. Followed by
all the boats of the settlement, we went out to meet the
steamer. We neared the squadron, and the gallant men
that had come out to seek us ; we could see the scars
which their own ice-battles had impressed on their
vessels; we knew the gold lace of the officers' cap-
bands, and discerned the groups who, glass in hand,
were evidently --,'Al1,lii., us.
Presently we were alongside. An officer whom I
shall ever remember as a cherished friend, Captain Hart-
stene, hailed a little man in a ragged flannel shirt. Is


that Dr. Kane ?" and with the Yes!" that followed, the
rigging was manned by our countrymen, and cheers
welcomed us back to the social world of love they re-
Since the publication of his interesting account of his
expedition,1 Dr. Kane has died in consequence of the
privations and hardships he endured.
STHE FAR NonTH: Explorations in the Arctic Regions. By
Elisha Kent Kane, M.D., commander, second 'Grinnell' expedition
in search of Sir John Franklin. Fcap. 8vo, cloth extra, price 2s.
Edinburgh: William P. Nimmo.

- IL

- I



E cannot but admire the courage and patient
endurance of Dr. Kane and his men; yet even
greater courage and greater patience have
been shown on the shores of Greenland.
In the year 1710 there was a happy parsonage at
Vogen, in where lived a useful pastor and his
beloved family. That pastor, the Rev. Hans Egede, had
won the affection of his people, and week by week he
was leading them towards the same heaven which was
to be his everlasting home. Dear as was this devoted
pastor to the people of his flock, he was not more prized
by them than was his gentle wife.
When a sick child among the people had wearied out
even the mother by its long illness, then it was that Ann
Egede was found by its bedside, soothing it by her sweet
voice, and nursing it with the tenderest care. When a
sorrowing widow sat alone in her desolate home, the
footstep of the minister's wife was heard on the threshold,
and soon sweet words of comfort and affectionate sym-
pathy were cheering the solitary mourner. Ann Egede
was the light of the parsonage. She had ever a welcome
of smiles for her husband, she had ever pure counsel
and kind judicious care; God had given her also a sweet
,young family.
This was a happy household, yet here a shadow fell.
The face of Hans Egede grew sad; a deep burden was


on his heart. The joy which he had in the knowledge
of a Saviour made him feel but the deeper pity for the
heathen who were far from God. The peace that pre-
vailed in his Christian home but made him realize more
fully what must be the misery of the families where the
law of love was not taught, and where anger, envy, and
every evil passion raged. To Greenland his thoughts
particularly turned, and his soul yearned to bear the
message of Christ to the lost people of that frozen land.
To his dear wife the earnest minister at length told
his secret sorrow, the secret wish which had become so
strong within him.
Poor Ann Egede! Her joy seemed crushed in a
moment. At first she" shrank from the sacrifice pro-
posed; but she saw that the holy purpose had taken too
deep a hold upon her husband to be easily given up.
Should she leave her pleasant home and go with him to
that distant, dreary land ? This question she asked her-
self, this question she asked of God in prayer.
Peace came again to the heart of Ann Egede. God
had sent her strength to give up all for the sake of
Christ. She would go with her husband, and labour
with him to bring the heathen to the knowledge of the
Lord. The pastor was full of joy when he heard her
decision. He felt as if all difficulties were removed from
his path, now that his true wife was to -be at his side.
With such an example of a Christian woman to prove
the truth of his religion, and such a labourer to aid him
in his work, he felt sure of success.
For ten long years the Rev. Hans Egede besought the
king of Denmark, and the bishops and merchants of his
own land, to give him permission and means to go to
the far away country and preach Christ to the ignorant
Permission and means were at last obtained. Hans


Egede might take the Bible in his hand, and go with its
message to Greenland's icy mountains.'
Sorrow now seized upon the people of Vogen. They
clung round their beloved pastor like children round a
tender mother's neck. They besought him not to leave
them, and, weeping, pleaded with him to give up his
long-cherished plan. In their strong attachment to their
faithful minister, they felt as if it would be almost im-
possible for them to reach heaven without his holy
teaching and pure example. The people of Vogen had
the Bible for their guide, and Hans Egede knew that
God could lead them heavenward when he was far over
the sea. Hans Egede knew this, yet the voice of
his weeping people overcame him; could he leave
them ?
Calm and cheerful was Ann Egede in that hour of
doubt. The fearless woman strengthened her husband's
resolution, and assisted him in keeping firm to his pur-
pose. He resolved to go.
Wild, foolish, and almost mad, the pastor and his
wife were considered by most of their friends. Little
was then known of Greenland, and that little was but a
tale of misery and desolation. Yet one solemn sentence
of Scripture was enough to sustain Hans Egede and his
wife in this time of trial and reproach. Jesus had said,
'Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to
every creature.' He could sustain his chosen messengers
among the snows of Greenland as well as amid the com-
forts of their dear parsonage at Vogen.
In the month of May 1721, Hans Egede, with his wife
and four children, set sail for Greenland. On the wide
ocean they learned to know too well all the terrors of
the sea. Storms beat them about, contrary winds drove
them back, and terrible icebergs threatened to crush
them. The ship rolled and tossed on the mighty waves,


and was well nigh dashed in pieces. But in the cabin
of that lonely ship there was one face full of peace.
There Ann Egede gathered her terrified children about
her, and soothed their fears by reminding them of Him
who ruleth the sea. There Ann Egede was at her hus-
band's side, like an angel, comforting him with her sweet
words of hope and trust.
On the 3d of July, Egede and his family reached the
country which was henceforward to be their home.
Dr. Kane and his party, when they set out on their
expedition, were going on a long and trying voyage
truly; yet they hoped, they expected to return. They
looked forward to the time when they should see again
the 'dear familiar faces,' and be welcomed at the fire-
sides where they were beloved. No such hope, no such
expectation, had Hans Egede and his wife to cheer them.
They had given up friends, home, and country to live
among the Greenlanders, and to know no other I. I th,-
A dreary prospect it must have seemed when they
first entered the miserable snow-covered huts, and saw
the poverty and filth within them. Yet there was no
look of discontent on the sweet face of Ann Egede. Her
smile and her cheerfulness were ready to make glad her
husband's poor home in this far foreign land.
The miserable ignorant Greenland women she met
with kindness, and they must have soon seen that some
one quite unlike themselves had come to dwell among
them. How she must have longed to tell them at once
of that Saviour whose humble follower she was, and
whose religion she so adorned!
All was new and strange to the pastor and his family.
Even the language of the country had yet to be learned
by slow and toilsome efforts. As they heard the names
given by the Greenlanders to the objects about them


they wrote them down, and rejoiced over each word that
they learned, for each word gained brought nearer the
time when they could preach Jesus to this benighted
The impatient missionaries could not wait until they
could speak to the Greenlanders in their own language,
before they made known to them some of the facts of
Scripture. As we teach little children by Bible pictures,
before they can understand all the deep truths of the
word of God, so they taught the Greenlanders. By
sketches of some of the scenes described in Scripture,
Hans Egede and his wife tried to prepare these poor
people for the religion they had come to teach. We
cannot doubt that Jesus at Bethlehem, Jesus on the
cross, and Jesus ascending to heaven, were drawn, while
the earnest missionaries tried to give the ignorant by-
standers some idea of Him who came to seek and to save
them that were loat.
The Greenlanders were stupid and indifferent; Hans
Egede and his wife could only speak by signs, and these
first efforts at instruction seemed all in vain. When
this rude people understood that the strangers were to
live among them, they were by no means pleased.
People who had not come to trade with the natives were
unwelcome in that land, where food must be laid up
with care, and used with economy. Even the sweet face
of Ann Egede for a while failed to soften the coarse,
ignorant beings around her. But sickness came to the
little children, and the missionary's wife won the mothers
by her attention to their darlings. They saw that the pale-
faced woman from over the seas was wiser than themselves
when disease threatened death; they saw that she was
more gentle and patient with the sufferers than they had
ever been. The presents that Hans Egede had made
to the Greenlanders, and the kindness he and his wife


had shown them, at last had some effect, and they were
willing that the missionaries should remain among them.
Hardly had the earnest strangers begun to hope that
success might yet be in store for them, when a new diffi-
culty arose. The ship that was to have brought provisions
from Norway was delayed in its coming. The miserable
food of the natives was fast diminishing, and famine
seemed near at hand. The Danes and Norwegians who
had come out with Egede, with the hope of making
money by trade with the natives, were disheartened.
They all resolved to return.
After anxious thought and sleepless nights, Hans
Egede decided that he had no right to expose his wife
and children to death from hunger and want. He would
return with his countrymen, a wretched, disappointed
man. This decision he announced to his wife. The
heart of Ann Egede was strengthened from above, in
that hour of trial. She would not accept the offer which
it had cost her husband such an effort to make. No !
let us remain here, my husband,' said the noble woman.
'Hardships we expected, when we became missionaries.
Let us have patience!' The strong, cheerful, hopeful,
trustful spirit of the wife upheld the soul of her husband.
The long-looked-for ship at length arrived; food was once
more plenty, and good news from home made glad the
Hans Egede sought in every way to win the confi-
dence and affection of the Greenlanders, but they seemed
to care little to learn what he had to teach. Food and rest
for their poor bodies were more precious to them, than
any cultivation of their minds or any care for their souls.
The missionary and his wife had been tried by unkind-
ness, and threatened by famine, and yet they had re-
mained firm. They were now to suffer from a new


The horrors of a Greenland winter gathered around
them. Shut within their narrow dwelling, they sought
to escape from the piercing cold that was changing all
nature into solid ice. Even there they could not escape
the searching blasts and the cruel frosts. Cups of
heated water, or even brandy, if set upon the table, were
frozen in a few minutes. The linen was often frozen in
the drawers, and the soft eider-down bed and pillows
stiffened with frost, even while the sleepers rested there.'
Slowly the long dark night stole on, till at last there
was no light in their dwelling at mid-day, save that of
the ever-burning fire, and the precious lamp, which
was never suffered to go out.
Thus shut off from all the world, the heart of the wife
and mother did not sink in despondency. She had still
her dear ones around her, her God was still King in
heaven. To that God she prayed for strength to do her
duty in the strange position in which she found herself
placed; to those dear ones she devoted herself, and was
to them a comfort and a stay.
In the dark winter hours the children were taught
at their mother's side, not only the learning that makes
the scholar wise, but that better wisdom which comes
from above. Time stole on, and their young minds,
subject to her sweet influence, unfolded, fair and truth-
loving, like that of their mother. The eldest daughter
resembled her in appearance as well as character. The
blue eyes, flaxen hair, and mild, earnest features of Ann
Egede were seen again in that daughter's face, who was
to be so like her in spirit and in purpose.
The wintry night brightened into twilight. Then
came the season of perpetual day, when no shadow
crept over the landscape at evening, no hour of darkness
called the weary to rest. The weeks went round un-
marked by dawn and sunset, till the eye was dim with


the continual brightness, and yearned to close itself in
the pleasant shade of night.
The seasons, so different from those to which they
had been accustomed, could not but be trying to the
strangers; yet they did not complain. They knew that
for wise reasons the short Arctic summer was all light.
They saw the plants springing as it were into life; they
saw the animals that had fled from the cold, suddenly
rejoicing around them; and they could not murmur,
but rather admired his wisdom who doeth all things
Egede had left ..- full of hope. His hopes had
not been realized. The land was even more dreary than
it had been described, the people were far more stupid,
far more difficult to be reached. They mocked at the
teacher of the new religion who had come to dwell
among them; they gave little heed to his instructions.
In the midst of his discouragements there was one
bright face ever ready to give him a welcome, one true
heart ever ready to yield its sympathy and comfort. Of
her own loneliness Ann Egede never spoke. She could
not, like her husband, vary her life by expeditions along
the coast, now on the swift sledge, now in the light boat.
At her fireside was her place of duty, and there she was
to be found, cheerful, placid, and useful, as in the plea-
sant parsonage at Vogen.
Such a wife was indeed a treasure; such a mother
could not but be blessed in her children. Without a
Christian visitor to look in on their solitude, with no
hope of change to cheer them, the family of Hans Egede
were not sorrowful. They were happy in themselves,
and happy in the love of their Maker.
'The little family group,' says Mr. Carnes, 'found
all their hopes and enjoyments in each other; and when
the father gave out the hymn, and they all joined their



voices or knelt down in prayer, it was as if one soul and
one voice was offered to God.'
Seven years had passed since Hans Egede first set up
his family altar on the shores of Greenland. Ships from
Norway had been hailed with joy as -they approached,
and watched as they receded from sight; yet the devoted
missionaries had seen them come and go, with firm hearts
and purposes unchanged. Now there was a promise of
brighter days. Several ships arrived from Denmark
containing colonists, who had come with the hope of
making a permanent and profitable settlement on the
shores of Greenland. Welcome as were the soldiers, the
mechanics, and the true wives who had followed their
fortunes, still more welcome to Egede were two Danish
clergymen, who had been sent by the king of Denmark to
aid him in his efforts for the poor heathen of Greenland.
The sufferings which Egede and his wife had borne
with such firmness were too much for the colonists.
Tried by the terrible climate, disappointed in their hopes
of gain, upon Egede they visited their wrath. They
fancied that his being there had occasioned their coming
to the dreary shore. They considered no violence too
great to be offered him; and but for the guard who
surrounded his -l...:1 they might have slain him in
their anger. These new dangers could not shake the
spirit of Ann Egede. The wrath of man was as naught
to one who, like Elias, knew herself to be surrounded
by legions of angels; for the angels of the Lord encamp
round about them that fear Him. Calm, cheerful, and
fearless, she passed through that time of danger, a woman
indeed whose price was above rubies!
Cold, hunger, sickness, and disunion reduced the colo-
nists to a mere handful. The survivors had but one
thought, one wish-to see their native land again in
safety. Permission at length came to give up the


proposed settlement. Then, from thp least unto the
greatest, the emigrants escaped from the shores they
had learned to hate. Even the missionaries, upon whom
Egede had relied, deserted him. He too was called on
to flee as for his life. Provisions for but one year more
were promised him by the government; and after that
time no further aid was to be given him from his
That fatherland was still dear to Egede and his wife,
still fresh in their memories. Its quiet homes, its
pleasant churches, its hillsides, and its lakes they had
described to their children in the long wintry hours.
Should they not return to it once more ?
Egede was no longer,the strong man who had first set
foot in Greenland: should he continue to labour until
his life was the sacrifice? Might he not die on that
dreary coast, and leave his wife and children among
savages in that far land? Every motive that could
influence Egede was brought forward, to persuade him
to give up his post. Eight years he had spent in that
frozen clime: should he now desert it in despair ?
Ann Egede knew and felt the terrors of her position,
but she spoke not to counsel return; now as ever the
husband and wife were one in purpose, one in heart.
' Feed my lambs,' was the risen Saviour's charge to the
repentant Peter; and that message seemed now breathed
anew into the ears of Egede and his loving wife. One
hundred and fifty children of the Greenlanders claimed
their care, and were already under their instruction.
These 'little ones' they could endeavour to train for
Christ, and with them they resolved to remain. The
familiar faces, speaking the familiar language, turned
away from them. Every European departed in the
homeward bound ship, and Egede and his wife were
left alone in the land of their adoption. Not alone, for

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