Front Cover
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 The falls
 An invitation
 New acquaintances
 Mrs. Carroll's story
 Two Bible lessons
 A call upon Aunt Nancy
 Confessing Christ
 Benevolent plans
 Last words of counsel
 Dark days
 Seed bearing fruit
 An unexpected explanation
 An hour in the sick-room
 The honest hour
 A new path opening
 Winning souls
 A surprise
 Back Cover

Title: Satisfied
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00086690/00001
 Material Information
Title: Satisfied
Physical Description: 168, 20 p. : ill. ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Trowbridge, Catharine M ( Catharine Maria ), b. 1818
Rainey, W ( William ), 1852-1936 ( Illustrator )
S. W. Partridge & Co. (London, England) ( Publisher )
Gilbert & Rivington ( Printer )
Publisher: S.W. Partridge & Co.
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: Gilbert and Rivington, Ld.
Publication Date: [1898?]
Edition: 7th ed.
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Satisfaction -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Young women -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Young women -- Religious life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Envy -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Cousins -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Orphans -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Guardian and ward -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Inheritance and succession -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Youth and death -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Friendship -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Courtship -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1898   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1898
Genre: Publishers' catalogues   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Statement of Responsibility: by Catherine M. Trowbridge ; with ten illustrations by W. Rainey.
General Note: Date of publication from inscription.
General Note: Publisher's catalogue follows text.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00086690
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002238746
notis - ALH9268
oclc - 248051138

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 1a
    Half Title
        Page 2
        Page 3
    Title Page
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
    Table of Contents
        Page 7
        Page 8
    The falls
        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
    An invitation
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
    New acquaintances
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
    Mrs. Carroll's story
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
    Two Bible lessons
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
    A call upon Aunt Nancy
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
    Confessing Christ
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
    Benevolent plans
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
    Last words of counsel
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
    Dark days
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
    Seed bearing fruit
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
    An unexpected explanation
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
    An hour in the sick-room
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
    The honest hour
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
    A new path opening
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
    Winning souls
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
    A surprise
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
    Back Cover
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
Full Text




~tzz A

I' ---




I* I


































S 20






S .

viii Contents.






















* a 100

. 107



8, I2

S 138




'q~ .*t ,.
-4' **re*r2'j -
V --t




IT was the afternoon of a pleasant summer day. A carriage
was slowly ascending a steep hill. Within were two gentlemen
and a lady.
"Do you see that cloud?" said one of the gentlemen.
"Yes, I have been watching it," said the other.
"Shall we have a shower before we can reach home?"
inquired the lady.
"Yes, we must make up our minds for that. If we can reach
any place of shelter, we shall do well."
"I noticed a house as we came up, with an open shed near
it," said the gentleman who had first spoken. If we can
reach that place, we can drive under the shed. I think it can't
be far distant."
It is nearly a mile from here. It is the refuge I have been
proposing to reach, if possible, ever since I observed the
shower approaching."
"Do you know the people who live there?"

Visitors to the Falls.

No, but I have no doubt its owner will be very willing that
we should take shelter there. We can't hurry until we get up
this hill; then we will drive as fast as we can."
Just behind was another carriage, in which were three
young ladies. The occupants of the two carriages formed one
party. As they wind slowly up the hill, we will improve the
opportunity to introduce them to the reader.
The gentleman who is driving in the first carriage is Mr.
Carver, whose home is about six miles distant. The gentle-
man and lady who are with him are Mr. and Mrs. Grey, friends
from the metropolis. In the second carriage, the young lady
who is driving is the daughter of Mr. Carver, and the other
two young ladies are nieces of Mr. Grey, and members of his
The present excursion was planned by Mr. Carver and his
daughter for the entertainment of their guests. The place from
which they were returning was known in that vicinity by the
name of The Falls. They were modest falls, boasting of no
celebrity, yet they possessed a quiet, picturesque beauty of
their own, which the true lover of nature could not fail to
The clouds were now rolling up dark and heavy, but the
party soon reached the top of the hill, and hurrying on were
quickly in-sight of their place of refuge.
When they reached the open shed, they drew up and looked
round, to see if there was any one to bid them welcome to its
shelter. They were soon observed, and two young men left
the house and came towards them.
The taller of the two came forward, and bowing politely,
said pleasantly, You are just in time."
"We shall be greatly obliged to you," said Mr. Carver, "if
you will give us shelter until the shower is over."
"With much pleasure," said the young man courteously

What a Fine Young MTan !" 1

"Permit us to assist you," as he took charge of the horse
driven by Miss Carver, while the other assisted the ladies
to alight.
I hope you will make yourselves quite at home here," he
said, as he conducted the ladies to a neatly-furnished parlour.
"I must leave you for a little while, to assist the gentlemen
about the horses, and see that everything is safe through the
shower, which I think will be a hard one."
As he left, Mrs. Grey and Miss Carver stepped out to the
portico to watch the clouds, and take a view of their surround-
ings. Mrs. Grey's two nieces remained in the parlour, the
younger, because she felt no inclination to leave it, and the
elder, because she wished to improve the opportunity for a
few words with her cousin.
"What a fine young man!" was her first exclamation.
" Don't you think so ?"
"Which ?"
"The taller, of course; the one who waited upon us
to the house. He is so stylish, and has such an air. Who
would have thought of finding one like him in this out-of-the-
way place I don't believe he belongs here."
He appears as if he were at home, more so than the other.
He offered us the hospitalities of the house as if he had a
right to."
"Yes, I observed that. He is handsome, is he not ?"
I hardly know. I have but just seen him, and have thought
nothing about it."
I dare say you haven't. You are such a mere child, it's not
to be expected that you will notice such things," said the elder
cousin, with an air which was an unspoken assertion of her
own undoubted claim to be a young lady, fully competent
to observe and judge of such matters.
The "mere child" did not seem at all disturbed by the
B 2

12 A Place of Shelter.

remark. Alice Grey-for this was her name-was indeed but
sixteen, and not, like some of her years, anxious to be thought
a young lady. Even had she been sensitive on this point,
she had heard similar remarks from her cousin, Mabel Osborn,
too often to take any notice of her words at this time.
Mabel was looking out of the window to see if she could
catch another glimpse of him who had won her admiration.
"I know you do admire him; but you are such a sly puss
you pretend not to have taken any notice of him," she. said,
quite forgetting that she had just spoken of her cousin as a
mere child, too young for particular observation of those
whom she casually met. I dare say, before we get away,
you will contrive to let him know that you are an heiress."
Alice Grey, though so indifferent to the former remark of
her cousin, was now thoroughly aroused. Her eyes flashed,
and her whole face was suffused with the flush of indignation.
"Now, Mabel Osborn," she said, "you know very well that
I never did such a thing, and would scorn to do it."
There was not time for another word, for at this moment
Mrs. Grey and Miss Carver returned to the parlour, and
immediately after the young gentlemen entered, and also the
lady of the house, who kindly greeted her guests, and expressed
her pleasure that they could give them shelter through the
shower. Soon after the gentleman of the house also came in,
and the party seated themselves to await the end of the
Alice sat by a window apart from the rest, feeling no inclina-
tion to participate in the conversation. It was not bashful-
ness, for though young and modest, she had been too much
accustomed to society to feel either awkward or uncomfortable
in the presence of strangers. Besides, she had a natural con-
versational talent, which made it easy for her to converse with
those much older than herself. She had been greatly vexed

Alice observes the Company. 13

by the last remark of her cousin, and had not recovered from
this vexation. It led her to feel disinclined for conversation
with any one, and particularly disposed to keep as far aloof as
possible from the young man of whom her cousin had spoken
in such glowing terms. She was resolved to let Mabel know
that she did not care even to speak with him. For a time
she was occupied with her own thoughts. Though not pleasant
ones, they were not altogether unfamiliar, for-many times had
similar thoughts and feelings been awakened in a manner not
very unlike the present.
After a while she began to be more observant of those
around her, and amused herself by watching the young
gentleman who was talking with Miss Carver and her cousin,
and trying to make up her own mind about him, simply as a
means of diversion for the hour.
Next her observations extended to the other young man,
who had been quite overlooked by her cousin. She had not
observed him long before she began to feel an increasing
interest in watching his movements. There was something
about him which interested her, though she hardly knew why.
He may not be what Mabel calls stylish," she said to her-
self, but I am sure he is a gentleman."
During these somewhat protracted observations Alice had
not encountered even a glance from the object of them, from
which she inferred that he was quite regardless of her presence.
But she was mistaken. His observations had been quietly
made before hers commenced, while she was yet absorbed in
her own thoughts.
His attention was first attracted by the circumstance that
she was sitting quite apart from the rest of the party, and he
observed her more closely to see if he could discover the
cause. He soon made up his mind that it was not bashfulness,
for her whole appearance indicated want of interest rather than

" Wouldyou like to look at it ?"

want of courage. The study of faces, especially new ones,
had become a habit with him. He liked to see how much he
could discover in this way, and whether after-acquaintance
confirmed the conclusions thus formed.
He had ample time to study the face of Alice unobserved,
while she sat busy with her own thoughts. The first impres-
sion was certainly not altogether pleasing. The vexation
faintly shadowed there gave to the countenance an expression
which perhaps might be best interpreted by the word dissatis-
fled. The young man could not make up his mind whether
this was habitual or only transient. The face, on the whole,
puzzled him, and for that reason he studied it with the more
interest. He determined to improve the first opportunity to
approach her. While awaiting the favourable moment, he gave
his attention to the conversation of those around him, taking
part in it as occasion offered; and thus it was that Alice had
the opportunity to observe him, quite undisturbed.
At length there was a movement in the little party. The
elder gentleman stepped to the portico to observe the clouds.
Miss Carver's attention was attracted by a shell unlike any she
had seen before. The young man with whom she was con-
versing immediately arose, and taking it from the shelf handed it
to her for a closer examination. After that, it was passed round
to the other ladies; and when they had examined and admired
it, the young man, who had been watching his opportunity to
approach Alice, took the shell to her, and said, "Would you
like to look at it?"
She thanked him, and after inspecting it, simply said, "It is
very curious."
After replacing it on the mantelshelf, he drew a chair
to her side and sat down, commencing a conversation with
the very commonplace inquiry, "How did you like the

The Talk about the Falls.

Alice's face brightened, and the air of indifference imme-
diately vanished.
"I think they are very pretty," she said, but immediately
added with a blush, Perhaps you will think that term inappro-
priate; but they have nothing of the grandeur of Niagara or
even Trenton, for I have visited America."
"Certainly not; they are very modest and unpretending."
"Yet there is a quiet beauty about them," said Alice. In
some places the water bubbles softly over the rocks; and where
it dashes down in cataract style, it is only a modest miniature
representation of its more pretending sisters."
The young man smiled. The description of what the young
girl had seen and enjoyed was so correct, and given so simply
and artlessly, that he found himself interested, and much
inclined to draw her out still farther.
"I am glad you were so much pleased," he said. I have
taken great pleasure in visiting them. I have extended my
walk thus far every day during the week I have spent here."
"I was right in my impression that he does not belong
here," thought Alice.
I suppose you saw them to-day for the first time?" he
Yes, the first and the last, I presume. I never was in the
neighbourhood before, but I am glad that I could be here
this once."
"You have reason to be. You have one more scene of
beauty to hang up in the picture-gallery of your memory."
I think all its surroundings are pleasant," said Alice. It
is such a lovely quiet nook. It makes one think of everything
that is calm and peaceful."
Alice spoke with her usual freedom, for the enthusiasm of
her nature had been awakened by the enjoyments of the day,
and every vexation was now forgotten.

16 A re you Satisfied ?"

"I hope it will have a tranquillizing influence every time you
think of it," said the young man with a smile.
"I should think it might exert such an influence, to have
one's home amid some such surroundings. I thought, when I
was there to-day, it would be a nice place for a hermit, such as
I have read about."
"Yet you would not desire a hermitage there," said the
young man with a smile, adding, Doubtless you find many
bright and beautiful things in such a life as yours ?"
"That is true, yet I am not always satisfied, not even with
the bright and beautiful things."
"Would the hermitage satisfy you any better?"
I presume not. I don't suppose there is any such thing
as being satisfied in this world."
"There is such a thing."
"I do not know any people who are so. All I know are
much dissatisfied sometimes, and some of them are, I think, a
little so all the time."
"Very likely. Still there is such a thing as being satisfied,"
said the young.man, with a smile that went far to prove the
truth of his assertion.
Alice looked up just in time to catch the smile, and for a
moment her eyes rested upon the face. There was something
in its expression which led her without premeditation to ask,
"Are you satisfied?"
"Yes, I think so," was the answer, so calmly spoken that
Alice felt an intuitive conviction of its truthfulness.
What! satisfied with yourself and all around you? "
"No, not with either."
"Then what are you satisfied with ?"
"With that which is within."
"What is the difference between being satisfied with your-
self and satisfied with that which is within ?" inquired Alice,

ill ij
ii Y ; I~
I 'lrl
: :
B I;a


; I t I


The Bible Reference. 19

whose deep interest in the subject led her to put questions
which might have seemed bold, but for the unaffected modesty
with which they were asked.
"There is a great difference, but I have not time now to
explain it, and perhaps you would not care to look at the
question as I do, in the light of the Bible, though you
doubtless believe the Bible."
"Of course I do," Alice answered, somewhat lightly.
I am very glad to hear you say that."
It was not the words, but the tone which conveyed to
the mind of Alice the shadow of a reproof, as if he thought
believing the Bible a very weighty matter.
He took out a memorandum-book and wrote on a scrap of
paper :-" Luke xvii. 21." Handing it to Alice, he said,-
"Will you find this passage in your Bible when you return
home, and see if you can make out any connexion between it
and the subject we have been talking about?"
"Will it help me to understand what you have been saying?"
Alice asked.
It will, if you get its true meaning."
What if I don't understand it ?"
"Ask God to teach you what it means. That is what we all
must do if we would receive aright His message to us."
There was time for no further conversation, for the rain was
over, and the little party were preparing to leave their hospi-
table refuge. Sincere thanks were returned for the shelter,
and all felt that they had spent a pleasant hour.

*-- <;4^^^~I^'



MABEL OSBORN and Alice Grey were both orphans, and both
wards of their uncle, Mr. Grey. Mabel had been left an
orphan very young. She was but an infant when her mother
died. Two years later her father died also, so that she could
remember no other love, care, and guardianship than that of
her uncle and aunt.
For only one year had Alice Grey been an inmate of her
present home. Her mother had lived until she was six years
of age, so that she had some enduring recollections of maternal
love and tenderness-memories which sometimes seemed very
real, and at others dim and shadowy.
When Alice was twelve her father died also, leaving her
to the guardianship of his only brother, Mr. Lewis Grey, a
city merchant.
Alice was a girl of more than ordinary abilities. She had
a warm, affectionate nature, with a touch of enthusiasm.
She was one who could love devotedly and unselfishly. She
was not only affectionate, but sensitive also, even to a fault.
She could not find herself blamed, or even misunderstood,
without being rendered unhappy.
Unlike Mabel, she knew by experience the meaning of
parental love, and sorely missed the affection she had known

The Cousins.

for so brief a space. Her uncle and aunt were kind to her.
She had found in them all she had allowed herself to expect,
perhaps more; but they were not her parents, and she realized
what it was to be an orphan without even fraternal ties, for she
had been an only child.
The remark was sometimes made to her that Mabel, dwell-
ing under the same roof, and herself an orphan, must be to
her like an own sister. But things are often quite unlike what
they are supposed to be by those not behind the scenes.' Her
cousin was not to her at all like a sister. In fact, she was
the cause of no small portion of the trials of her present
Mabel Osborn was three years older than her cousin. She
had therefore reached the age of eighteen when the orphaned
Alice came to share the home which had been hers so long.
Could Mabel have opened her heart to receive her cousin with
a warm and generous affection, this event might have contri-
buted much to her happiness, and the two might have lived
together in "a sisterly affection which would have proved a rich
blessing to both.
Mabel had inherited from her father a modest competence,
sufficient for the supply of every real need, and with it she
had been satisfied up to the time of the entrance of Alice into
the family. But Mabel was worldly and ambitious, and needed
only an exciting cause to become envious also; and this was
furnished when her cousin Alice became the ward of her Uncle
The father of Alice was much more wealthy than Mabel's
father had been, and when she, not unfrequently, heard her
cousin spoken of as the young heiress and the rich ward of
her Uncle Grey, envy awoke in her heart, and it was not long
before something very much like hatred began to manifest its
presence there.

The Return Home.

It must not be supposed that all this was open and undis-
guised even to Mabel herself. She would have considered
herself very much aggrieved had she been told that she often
envied and sometimes hated her cousin. Deep in her heart
these emotions were hidden, and only on rare occasions were
they perceptible in word or deed.
Alice Grey would gladly have given her cousin the place of
an elder sister in her heart, but she was not long in discover-
ing that there was a barrier between her and Mabel.
Alice grieved over this in secret, and when Mabel was posi-
tively unkind, as she sometimes was, she was ready to think
that, at least for the present, the wealth which would one day
be hers brought more of unhappiness than of pleasure, and
almost to wish that she were poor, for she thought Mabel
would then be kinder to her. She could not see why her
cousin should feel so.
I do not believe I should if I were in her place and she
in mine," she thought. Love is better than money, oh, so
much better If I only had some one to love me, as I want
to be loved, as I know my mother loved me!"
After such thoughts Alice's aching heart would try to relieve
itself in tears.
The day after the visit to the Falls, Mr. and Mrs. Grey,
with their two nieces, returned to their home in the city. The
next two or three days happened to be very busy ones with
Alice, and the little slip of paper, given to her by the young
man at the cottage, was not once withdrawn from the pocket-
book to which she had consigned it.
Alice had not been too busy to recall, many times, her visit
to the rural spot which had charmed her so much, and also
the hours spent in the cottage, and the conversation which
had so greatly interested her. She had felt a momentary
curiosity to know what the passage referred to could have to

A Day of Trial.

do with the subject of which she and the young gentleman
had been speaking. The fact that it was a Bible reference,
it must be owned, abated her desire to know what it was, for
Alice Grey had not learned to love that Book, so dear to the
'heart of every true Christian.
Her uncle and aunt Grey were worldly people, paying out-
ward respect to the ordinances of religion, while strangers to
its life and power in the soul. Mrs. Grey was coldly indifferent,
and Mr. Grey secretly sceptical, allowing his mind, in those
brief intervals when he had time to think at all, to entertain
doubts of the truth and reality of much to which he had given
outwardly respectful attention.
The mother of Alice had been an earnest Christian, and
her orphan child retained more or less distinct recollections
of her teachings concerning the great themes of religion-
memories which at times stirred within her soul thoughts and
longings not in unison with the wonted tenor of her life.
Her father, too, was a Christian, but his was one of those
reticent natures which are generally silent about the things
most sacredly cherished in the heart's depths.
One evening early in the following week, Alice fled to her
room much earlier than her wonted hour for retiring. It had
been a day of unusual vexations. Mabel had annoyed her
more than once, and to this not uncommon occurrence had
been also added other trials. It is the last straw that breaks
the camel's back; so with Alice, it was the last grievance
which proved too much for her self-control, though she cer-
tainly would not have compared it to a straw, for its pressure
upon her spirits was no light one.
She was now alone in her chamber, in tears. Could she
have carried all her troubles to the feet of Jesus, and left
them there, with a humble and sincere prayer for His blessing,
not only for herself, but for all who had that day caused her

24 Lucy Stevens's News.

grief, His peace would have descended as dew upon the
tender herb, and her soul would have been at rest.
That afternoon Alice had received a call from Lucy
Stevens, a schoolmate of the previous winter. Her visitor
was taken up to her room, that they might have a school-girl
chat together.
After a little time Lucy said, I've half a mind to tell you
some of the things I heard this afternoon."
"Why half a mind? Why not a whole one? said Alice.
"To tell the truth, I overheard these things, and some
might not think it quite fair."
"How was that?"
"Our teacher, Miss Grafton, called to see mamma. She is
a friend of mamma's, you know. I was in the back parlour,
but they didn't know it. At first I never thought of any harm
in being there, as I didn't suppose anything would be said
they wouldn't like to have me hear. After a while they began
to talk about our school, and Miss Grafton spoke much more
freely of some of the pupils than she would have done if she
had known that she had a listener."
"And you sat and heard it all?"
"Why, yes. What else could I do? Besides, I own I
was curious to know what Miss Grafton would say. Would
you not have stayed, if you had been in my place ? "
"Not without letting them know that I was there."
Lucy flushed. "I dare say you would," she answered, a
little tartly. "You have as much curiosity as any of us."
"Perhaps I might, if I had been caught as you were," said
Alice, not wishing to offend her visitor. "Whom did they
talk about ?" she asked, after a little pause.
"Ah, you would like to know," said Lucy, triumphantly.
"The partaker is as bad as the thief. It seems that you are
auite willing to have a share of this stolen information."

Miss Grafton's Opinion of Alice. 25

"I own you have excited my curiosity, and I don't think
there would be any great harm done if you should gratify it."
"Mamma began it," she said, "by making inquiries about
one of the girls ; and then they went on to speak of others."
They say listeners usually hear no good of themselves.
Was that the case with you ?" inquired Alice, archly.
"I heard no ill; but probably this was owing to the fact
that my mamma was a listener also," replied Lucy, laughing.
Did Miss Grafton say anything about me ? "
"Yes, indeed, she had a good deal to say about you. In
fact, you were the young lady about whom mamma inquired."
"What did she say?" asked Alice, somewhat eagerly.
"Perhaps I had better not tell you. I don't think Miss
Grafton would like it, if she knew that I overheard it, and
then repeated it to you."
"Now you have told me so much, you ought to tell me
the rest," Alice urged. "It will not be fair if you don't."
"There's something in that, to be sure; yet, after all, I
think I had better not tell you. If I should, you will very
likely be offended with Miss Grafton.
"Then she must have said something bad about me."
"And something good also. Wouldn't I be proud if she
had said anything half as complimentary about me! I will
tell you that part, now I have gone so far. She said that you
possessed more than ordinary abilities, that you had a decided
talent for music, and the ability to excel in many things. Are
you not satisfied with that ?"
But that's not all. You must tell me the rest. I don't
want to hear only half the story."
"Then I suppose I must. She said that, notwithstanding
you had fine abilities, she doubted if you would ever really
excel, for though you took care to maintain a respectable posi-
tion in your classes, which you could easily do without much
Satifed. C

26 Alice's Keen Anguish.

exertion, you were too much disinclined to close application to
put forth the effort necessary to the thorough acquisition of
any branch of study. She said that you needed some motive
sufficient to stimulate you to greater exertions. If you were
a poor girl, seeking to fit yourself for a teacher, or if your
heart and life were ruled by the higher motive of making the
best improvement of every talent given, she had no doubt
that you would soon become a fine scholar and an excellent
musician. I believe I have given you her very words."
Lucy Stevens had been so intent upon giving her eager
listener an accurate report of what she had overheard, that
she had not noticed its effect upon her companion; but now,
observing her more closely, she saw that her face was flushed,
and that tears just ready to drop stood in her eyes.
Pshaw, Alice," she said, "don't take it in that way. I
should be delighted if she had said half as much in my favour
-' uncommon abilities,' and so on; and as to the last part,
it's just like Miss Grafton. She's always harping upon that
string, talking to us about our responsibility for the improve-
ment of the talents we have received. I would take the sweet
and let the bitter go."
Alice did not follow this advice, but rather its opposite,
for she took the bitter right home to her heart. The bitter
is ofttimes more wholesome than the sweet, and though, per-
haps, Alice that night got no good from it, yet in after-months
and under more favourable circumstances the recollection of
it proved in no small degree salutary.
She felt most keenly these remarks, as reported to her by
Lucy; so keenly that all the previous vexations of the day
were well-nigh forgotten. She had fancied herself standing
much higher than this in the estimation of her teachers, and
it hurt her pride to be told that they regarded her as one
who was falling below the attainments she ought to make,

The Text referred to.

because unwilling to put forth the necessary exertions. She
also felt the allusion to the enervating influence of her ex-
pectations of future wealth, and all the more, because this
time it did not come from her cousin, but her teacher, and
could not spring from envy or dislike. Thus coming, it
forced her to admit that there must be in it more or less of
truth. "How vexatious!" she mentally exclaimed. I be-
lieve I am out of sorts with every one to-night. I am vexed
with Mabel for what she said to me in the morning, with
Miss Grafton for the remarks she made about me to Mrs.
Stevens, and with Lucy for overhearing and repeating these
remarks. But after all, I believe I am most vexed with my-
self. What business had I to listen to what Miss Grafton
said? And the worst of it is, that I am afraid there is some
truth in it. Is it not miserable to be so dissatisfied with
everything, even with one's self? "
Dissatisfied. The word recalled to her mind the interview
with the young man at the cottage, and what he had said
about being satisfied, and the Bible reference he had given
her, which she had not yet examined.
She opened her pocket-book and took out the slip of
paper, and then, opening her neglected Bible, she found the
passage and read, The kingdom of God is within you."
Three times she read it slowly and thoughtfully.
I am sure I do not understand it," she thought.
The book she held in her hand was a reference Bible, and
she turned to the passages referred to, hoping they might
help to make it plainer. The first to which she turned was
this: "For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but
righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost." Joy
and peace," she repeated, and something like a gleam of
light entered her mind with these words. "I think one
might be satisfied, who had joy and peace within. I wonder

28 Wearied and Heartsore.

if this is what that young man meant. How can the king.
dom of God be within one? I never found anything within
myself but myself."
Then she turned to the next reference and read, "To
whom God would make known what is the riches of the
glory of this mystery among the Gentiles; which is Christ
in you, the hope of glory." "Christ in you," she repeated.
"This is called a mystery. How can I understand it ?"
These thoughts recalled to her mind the reply of the young
man when she said to him, "What if I do not understand
it ?" Each word of that reply she now distinctly remembered :
"Ask God to teach you what it means. That is what we
all must do if we would receive aright His message to us."
She mused on the words. Had God taught this young
man what seemed so plain to him, but was so dark to her?
Would He teach her if she asked Him? She tried to pray,
but of the prayer that asks and receives she as yet knew
nothing. There was no faith in that cry for help. She was
not able to realize the presence, or the love and mercy of
the Being she addressed. Yet around and within, though
she knew it not, was the ever-present Spirit. Even that
sense of need, of ignorance or darkness, was the call of His.
voice within her soul, arousing it from its sleep of death, and
guiding these first gropings after Himself.
Wearied and heartsore, Alice retired for the night, and
the occurrences of the succeeding day banished from her
mind both sad and serious thoughts. Yet questioning had
been stirred within her heart, which would not long be laid at
--._.; ..-, ..r ic .. o -...



A FEW days later, Mr. Grey came into the room where his
wife and elder niece were, holding in his hand an open
"Where is Alice ?" he inquired.
"In her room, I believe," said Mabel. "Why do you
ask ?"
I have here a letter from Maysville, from her Aunt Ward,
and within is one for Alice. Alice's aunt wishes her to spend
some weeks with her this summer. What do you think of
the plan, wife? I am glad to have an opportunity to talk
the matter over with you before Alice knows of the invitation,"
he added.
What do you think of it ?" said Mrs. Grey, who usually
preferred ascertaining her husband's opinion to giving her
"I hardly know what to think of her going, just at this
time, Of course it will be best for her to visit her aunt some
time, as Mrs. Ward is her mother's only sister. But she
cannot go now unless she gives up going with us to the
seaside, and I hardly think she will wish to do that."
Mabel's face brightened at this suggestion.
I think this visit to Maysville will be just the thing," she

30 The Letter for Alice.

said, with animation. Alice would be much better off with
her aunt, I'm sure."
Her uncle looked at her keenly, and there was displeasure
in his tone as he replied,-
"The idea of going to the seaside without your cousin
seems to afford you satisfaction."
Mabel blushed and looked not a little disconcerted. She
had been careful how she treated Alice in the presence of
her uncle, and she was chagrined to find that she had now
been so incautious, and revealed to him her envy and jealousy. -
Had her judgment been clear, she would have seen how
absurd it was to fear a rival in the modest, simple-hearted
girl of sixteen. But envy and jealousy are not clear-sighted,
and do not aid those influenced by them to see things as they
really are.
Though Mabel was disconcerted by her uncle's words, she
quickly rallied, and said, "I don't wish Alice not to go. I
thought she might like best to visit her aunt."
This declaration did not deceive Mr. Grey, and the sus-
picion which had before arisen in his mind, that Mabel did
not feel towards her cousin altogether as she should, gathered
strength from this little circumstance.
"Alice shall herself decide the question," he said. "If she
chooses to go to the seaside, it will give me pleasure to have
her with us ; and I hope, Mabel, you will be more discreet
about showing what your own preference is than you have
been this morning."
In a few minutes Alice entered the room.
"Here is a letter for you," said her uncle.
"For me !"
"Yes, from Maysville; from your Aunt Mary."
"What do you think about it?" said her uncle, after Alice
had read the letter.

Alice's Aunt Mary. 31

"About what ? said Alice, looking up.
Your aunt's invitation to visit her."
"Then you know about that," she said.
"Yes ; your aunt wrote me a few lines, expressing her wish
to receive a visit from you. Doubtless you will want to go
some time, but the question is will you want to go now, or will
you prefer to go to the seaside with us, and visit your aunt at
another time ?"
I don't know," said Alice, thoughtfully.
"You can take time to think of it, and decide what you
will do. I want you to spend this vacation in the way that
will give you the most pleasure. If you prefer to go with us,
do so by all means, and I will make arrangements for you to
visit your aunt at some other time. But if you choose to go
now, you shall do as you wish."
"Thank you, uncle, you are very kind; and then, after a
pause, I wish I knew more about my aunt."
"You will after you have made this visit," said her uncle,
I wonder if she is at all like my own dear mother !"
"I have seen very little of her. My impression is, that she
is quite different from your mother. She is called a nice
woman, and a very clever one. She has written to you before,
has she not ?"
"Only once, after my father's death. I wonder she
has not written more, when my mother was her only
I presume she is one of the many who are not much in
the habit of writing. She has been a hard-working farmer's
wife, which, no doubt, is one reason why your Uncle Ward has
been so prosperous as a farmer. I'have been told that he has
left his farm and built him a very pretty house in the village
of Maysviile, and furnished it nicely. I presume it is a

32 Maysville decided on.
pleasant home, and that you will enjoy a visit there sometime,
if you don't go now."
Alice at once took the subject into consideration. She was
no stranger to the watering-place the Greys were about to
visit, for she had been there several times with her father.
There was not, therefore, the charm of novelty in this pro-
posed trip. For her, there would be more of novelty in a few
weeks' sojourn in a quiet country village, for it would be
unlike the surroundings of her past life. But it was not this
consideration which turned the scale in favour of a visit to
her relatives in Maysville.
"She is my mother's sister," she said to herself. "They
once were children together. How they must have loved
each other in those days for I am sure, if I had a sister, I
should love her very much. I think Aunt Mary will love me
for my mother's sake. She wants me to come and see her,
and I want to go; indeed I do." And thus taking counsel of
her heart, she decided in favour of Maysville.
I think I would like to go and see my aunt," Alice said to
her uncle the next day. "If you and aunt were going there,
I should like it a great deal better than to go to the seaside."
"If you really wish to go you shall not go alone," said her
uncle. I will go with you myself, and remain a day or two,
till you get acquainted with your relatives, so as not to feel
like a stranger. Will that do?"
You are very kind, uncle. If you will go with me, I shall
be glad indeed to go."
"Then it is all settled. I think you will have to go early
next week if I go with you, so that I can get back in time for
this seaside trip. You had better write at once to your aunt,
unless you prefer that I should write for you."'
"I would much prefer it, for they seem so like strangers.
When I have once been there it will be very different."

Uncle Wards Home. 33
"Very well. It shall be as you desire, and I hope that you
will enjoy your visit so much that you will have no cause to
regret your decision. By the way," he added, turning to
his wife, has this young lady all she needs for her visit to
Maysville ? "
"I hardly know," said Mrs. Grey, "but I am inclined to
think that she is not as well prepared for 3. 1 :: ill.: as for the
seaside. Judging from what I saw during our late visit to the
country, I presume she will not be satisfied until she has ex-
plored every nook within walking distance. I don't think she
has any dresses quite suitable for that purpose, but there is
hardly time to supply the deficiency."
"If she has one dress suitable for such expeditions, it will
be all she will need during the few weeks she will remain
there," said Mr. Grey. "Just purchase the material for such
a dress, and let her take it with her. I daresay she will find
some one in Maysville who can fit and make a dress of that
kind as well as it would be done here."
That will do very well, I think," said Mrs. Grey. "I will
purchase the goods the first time I go out, and Alice must get
the dress made as soon as she can."
Early in the following week Mr. Grey and Alice took the
train for Maysville, which they reached in about four hours.
It was a pleasant secluded village, abundant shade-trees giving
it a cool, inviting appearance in the warm days of summer.
One of the neatest and freshest of its dwellings was the
residence of her Uncle Ward; and Alice thought, as she
approached it for the first time, that it looked very nice, quiet,
and inviting, at least for one who loved quiet. Alice herself
liked it pretty well, for a girl of her age, though she was some-
what apprehensive that she might here get too much of it.
The house was pleasantly situated on an elevation, com-
manding a fine view of groves and meadows, and a village

34 Departure of Uncle Grey.
beyond these about three miles distant. Alice was quite
charmed with this view, and thought she should not soon tire
of looking at it. It was only from the front of the house
that it could be seen. There were but two rooms in front-
the parlour and the guest-chamber above it. The other rooms
were so situated as to afford no view of anything but the
immediate neighbourhood.
Mr. Grey had promised to spend one day with Alice in
Maysville, so she had no fear that the next day would bring
home-sickness for her. It was very pleasant, and was spent
in walks, drives, and social intercourse, which Alice enjoyed
very much, for Mr. and Mrs. Ward spared no pains to enter-
tain Mr. Grey while he was with them. Alice knew that the
time of trial for her would be when her uncle should take his
The next morning she was called to a breakfast prepared
at an early hour for the accommodation of her uncle, who
wished to take the first train to his home. She was conscious
of a choking sensation in the throat when he bade her good-
bye, but she tried to be brave and not let her uncle and aunt
perceive how she felt.
She soon, however, found that the only way to keep her
secret was to make a hasty retreat to her own room till she
had gained a surer command of her feelings. After half an
hour spent in earnest, determined effort to put aside uncom-
fortable thoughts and feelings, she was so far successful that
she began to plan for spending the morning in the most agree-
able way she could think of.
Her Uncle Grey had advised her to take with her a good
supply of reading, as she might not find what she wanted in
Maysville; and with his usual thoughtfulness, he had himself
seen that she was pro;,:ed with as many books and magazines
as it was convenient for her to carry. These she had not yet

Alice's Plans upset. 35
taken from her trunk, but she now resolved to select the most
interesting she could find as the best diversion she could at
that time command.
Having made her choice, she descended to the parlour,
hoping she might enjoy the next hour or two, seated by one
of its pleasant windows, dividing her attention between the
book and the beautiful view she so much admired. The door
was closed. Pushing it gently open, she was not a little sur-
prised at the change which had taken place since she left the
room a little more than half an hour before. Every blind was
tightly closed and the curtains dropped. Every article which
had been in the least disturbed by the recent occupancy of the
room had been carefully restored to the place intended for it,
and seemed to say, "Who dare touch me now?"
Alice looked around quite disconcerted by the unex-
pected change. The room which had seemed so airy,
cheerful, and home-like, one hour before, now looked gloomy
Her first thought was that she would open a blind, draw a
comfortable easy-chair near a window, and have a long read
of her book. But on second thoughts she decided this would
not answer. It was evident that her aunt had occupied the
first half-hour after the departure of her recent guest in
arranging everything as she now found it, and Alice reasoned
that she would not have left all the other work of the morning
to do this if she had not wished things to remain as she left
them. She would at least make no alteration without con-
sulting her aunt. Leaving the book on the parlour-table, she
went in search of her aunt, and found her busy with her
domestic cares.
I see the parlour is all shut up, auntie," she said.
Something in the manner of Alice led Mrs. Ward to suspect
that she was not pleased with this arrangement.

36 The Company Parlour.
"Of course it is," she said; "I didn't suppose you would
wish me to treat you as a stranger."
"Certainly not, auntie," said Alice.
"So I thought. You are to make us a long visit, and be
quite one of the family."
"Yes, aunt; but don't you ever open that pleasant room
except when strangers are here ?"
"I never open it unless I have company. What would be
the use ?"
It's so pleasant, I should think you would wish to enjoy
it yourself."
"I do enjoy having such a room for my company when
they come. Your uncle and I have worked hard enough to get
it to enjoy it. There's not a pleasanter parlour in Maysville."
With Alice, the feeling of personal annoyance was now
exchanged for one of curiosity to know how her aunt managed
these things; so she next inquired, Do you have company
very often ? "
Often? No, indeed! at least not any one I think of
opening that room for. When folks come in a neighbourly
way, I never think of making such strangers of them. The
other rooms are quite good enough for all that sort of thing.
When I have a party, or when strangers like your Uncle Grey
come here, then of course I use the room, and am glad
enough I have it to use."
"And how often do you have occasion to use it ?" inquired
Perhaps some half a dozen times a year."
"Why, aunt," said Alice, "you can't mean that you don't
use that pleasant room more than six times a year! "
"I do mean it. When people have worked as hard as
your uncle and I to get nice things, they know how to take
care of them."

By the HalI Window. 37

Alice could not help thinking that they did not know how
to enjoy them; but she kept these thoughts to herself, fearing
she had already said too much on the subject.
Seeing that her aunt was very busy, she left the room.
Returning to the parlour for her book, she began to think
what disposition she should make of herself and of that for
the next hour or two. She concluded that she would go up
to the room her uncle had occupied, for as that was over the
parlour, she thought it must be very pleasant. She found the
door of this room closed, but opened it and looked in. The
room wore that peculiar air of desolation which is the usual
aspect of a guest-chamber after it has been deserted by one
guest and has not yet been prepared for the reception of another.
Alice hastily closed the door. She could not go there. It
would make her home-sick at once, and she was near enough
to that now. She would go to her own room, and if nothing
pleasant could be seen from its one window, it would make
little difference while she was engaged with her book. But
as she turned, she noticed the large hall window near which
she was standing. As it was a west window, it was very cool
and pleasant during the morning hour. She stepped up to it
and looked out.
"Ah, this is pleasant!" she exclaimed. "How absurd it
is," she thought, to do as Aunt Mary does. The house is
so situated that only the front is pleasant, yet all this part is
shut up-as gloomy as a prison, and of no use to any one
except on rare occasions. It is a strange way of enjoying
what one has worked hard to obtain. I am glad there is one
little nook that I can enjoy. It shall be my reading-room
and boudoir, and I will make the most of it, for it is really
very pleasant, the pleasantest window in the house. I will
take away this stiff, hard chair, and bring the easy-chair from
my room to put in its place."

38 A Model Housekeeper.
This arrangement was quickly made, and Alice seated her-
self, book in hand, with a more satisfied feeling than she had
known since her uncle left. The possession of this little nook
seemed to give her a comfortable home-feeling. It had been
chosen as a nice place to read, and yet she made little progress
in this, for she was more in the mood for thinking than for
reading. Her uncle and aunt came in for a large share of
these thoughts, and she tried to analyze the impression they
had made upon her during this brief acquaintance.' Her
uncle did not puzzle her much. She thought she understood
him, and liked him, too, not a little. He was social and kind,
a little blunt, perhaps, but with a playful, unexpected way of
saying things, that continually amused her.
When she thought of her aunt, her mind was in more con-
fusion. There was the disappointment she felt at finding her
so dissimilar to the recollections she had of her own dear
mother. Her Uncle Grey had in part prepared her for this;
still she had hoped to find more traces of resemblance. Her
aunt had received her kindly. She believed that she wished
her visit to be a pleasant one, and that she loved her for her
mother's sake as much as it was in her nature to do; and' yet
she felt disappointed in her aunt, without being able to tell
exactly why.
Mrs. Ward was what is called a model housekeeper.
Under her vigorous reign neither dirt nor disorder was
tolerated. A well-kept house is a great blessing, and the
trouble was not that Mrs. Ward was a thorough house-
keeper, but that she was so little besides. The heart that
might have blessed other hearts by its warm love and tender
sympathies, had been narrowed and dwarfed by a too exclusive
and selfish devotion to domestic duties.
Something of this Alice saw and felt, without being able to
define it.

Alice's Determination. 39

The fit of musing into which she had fallen was at length
interrupted by the sound of her uncle's voice downstairs.
As she was not inclined for reading, she determined to go
down, feeling sure that he would have something cheerful to

. .

.. ...--+ F -

--. _
p _+



MR WARD was leaving the kitchen just as Alice entered,
but he suddenly turned back when he heard her step.
"Where are you going this morning, uncle?" she said.
Up to the farm," he replied.
"Can't I go with you? I should like it very much."
"I don't know about it. I shall have to get out the
carriage when I take such a fine city lady as you to ride
with me, and this morning I am going in the old farm-
waggon, to get some early potatoes and one or two things
"I don't mind going in the waggon. I think I should
like it better than the carriage. It would be more of a
"I dare say it would to you," said her uncle, laughing.
" Well, I will take you if you will go and put on a decent
Alice looked down upon the light, delicate robe she called
her morning wrapper, and said in some surprise-" Why,
uncle, what do you call a decent dress ? "
"One suitable for the occasion on which it is worn is what
I call a decent dress. That's my notion of things, though it
may be a very old-fashioned one. Now that flimsy thing,



Basiade4. D

S i*




The New Dress.

though I can't deny that it's very becoming, isn't suitable for a
ride in the old farm-waggon, and for a good ramble about the
old place when we get there."
But really, uncle, I have nothing more suitable. Aunt
Grey said I was not quite prepared to come out here, for she
knew I should want to explore every nook, and I had no dress
quite suitable for that kind of business. She purchased the
material for one, but that was all she had time to do. She
thought I might get some one here to make it."
If that is so, I would advise you to go about it this very
Let me go with you this morning, and wear the dress I
have on."
I shall do no such thing," said her uncle, in that good-
humoured, droll way of his, which enabled him to say almost
anything he chose without giving offence. Business before
pleasure' is my motto. The first thing for you to do is take
that piece of goods up to Mrs. Carroll, and tell her that you
want a dress made as soon as possible. If you help her, I
dare say it can be finished in a day or two."
"Why, uncle, I never put a stitch in a dress in my life."
"I should say it's time you did, then. I believe in girls'
learning how to work, even if they do have lots of money. It
makes them feel comfortable and independent all through life,
let their circumstances be what they may. Money may be
lost, but if one is trained to be equal to any emergency, that
is something which can't be lost. It's a great deal surer than
bank stock or railroad bonds. There is the case of Mrs.
Carroll, the lady who I said would make your dress for you,
and do it well. Once she no more thought of sewing for a
living than you do. When she was a girl she had about all
she wanted, and expected always to have it, and it was much
the same after she was married. But things went wrong with
D 2

Uncle Ward's Advice.

her husband about money-matters, and after his death it was
found there was not much left for the widow and her son; so
the pleasant home was sold, and she took to dressmaking.
You see how things sometimes go in this world. But I mustn't
stop to talk any longer, or I shall not get up to the farm or
you to Mrs. Carroll's this morning. Your aunt will show you
where she lives."
But, uncle, I'm a stranger, and would not like to go alone.
I would rather wait until Aunt Mary is at leisure to go with
me. Aunt Grey always sees about such things for me."
"Nonsense! What if you are a stranger? Your feet can
carry you there all the same, and your tongue can ask if she
will do the work for you. Your aunt has always such lots of
work on hand, that it takes her a long time to get started
anywhere. I would advise you not to wait for her. You're
old enough to begin to act for yourself, and you had better
begin this morning."
If some other person had said all this to Alice, she would
have felt either offended or wounded, but her uncle had such
a way of saying it that she was neither. So she came to the
wise resolution to follow his advice; and as soon as he had
left for the farm, she went up to her room to get ready for the
walk. When she came down, her aunt went with her as far
as the gate, to point out the house.
After her aunt turned back and Alice was left to pursue her
walk alone, it must be owned that she felt a little shy and
uncomfortable, for she was not only a stranger in a strange
place, but this was nearly or quite the first time she had gone
out on an errand of business, so free had her life been from
the slightest pressure of care. But the feeling was not very
oppressive, for though the position was a new one, Alice had
been no recluse, and was not unaccustomed to meet with
strangers; and, moreover, thoughts about herself were mingled

Visit to Mrs. Carroll.

with other thoughts, most prominent among which were those
that had reference to what her uncle had just told her about
Mrs. Carroll. It seemed to her that she must be very unhappy
after sustaining such bereavements and losses, and being com-
pelled to resort to the needle for her support, when she had
known what it was to have every want supplied. Alice
wondered a little what she could ever do, if such things were
to happen to her, and how she could bear it, and she quite
made up her mind that the woman whom she was about to
meet must wear a very sorrowful face, or at least a very dis-
contented one.
When she reached the house, the door was open, and as
Alice stood on the step she was met by a somewhat rough-
looking man. She asked if Mrs. Carroll was at home, and
received the very laconic reply, Upstairs." Mrs. Ward had
neglected to tell her niece what part of the house was occupied
by Mrs. Carroll.
Alice ascended the stairs, and when she reached the top was
met by a lady so unlike the picture her mind had formed of
Mrs. Carroll, that she at once decided she had not yet found
the person she was seeking. She soon, however, discovered
her mistake, for a voice sweet and gentle said,-
"I heard you inquiring for me at the door. This way, if
you please."
Alice followed her conductor into a pleasant parlour, and
was seated by a window commanding much the same view
that she so admired from the front windows of her aunt's
After seating her visitor, Mrs. Carroll resumed her own seat
by another window, and took up the work she had just laid
down. Hardly had she done so, when some one called her
name, and she went out to meet a person who wished to speak
with her on the stairs.

Mrs. Carroll's Home.

While she was absent Alice improved the time by looking
around, both without and within. The scene without was not
new, at least that portion of it which she most admired, so her
attention was soon transferred to the scene within. The fur-
niture was not new, though it was quite nice and well pre-
served, and she at once concluded that it had been the purchase
of those better days of which her uncle had spoken. It was
very neatly arranged, and books and flowers and little adorn-
ments gave to the room an air of culture and refinement which
Alice was not, slow to appreciate. There was nothing of the
touch-me-if-you-dare expression which seemed to pervade her
aunt's. shut-up parlour; but everything spoke of careful use
and wise enjoyment, and as the young girl looked around,
there came over her such a home feeling as she had not had
since she came to Maysville. She had no time then to analyze
it, for Mrs. Carroll had re-entered the room, and as soon as she
was seated Alice made known her errand, and was much
pleased when told that her dress could be done at once, as
work was not pressing at that season of the year.
"I have only this dress to finish," said Mrs. Carroll. "I
wish to complete it before laying it aside, as it may be called
for at any time. I can finish it in half an hour. Will it be
inconvenient for you to wait that time ?"
Not in the least," said Alice, who was secretly glad of this
She soon found herself engaged in an interesting conver-
sation, suggested by surrounding objects. They talked of
flowers, of books, of the beautiful landscape which lay spread
out before them, and of the beauty of the country a that time
of the year, and winding in and out of their conversation on
these subjects were the threads of Alice's own secret thoughts
about Mrs. Carroll herself, and what her uncle had that morning
said of her past history.

Another Satisfied" One. 47

As Mrs. Carroll's work required close attention, Alice
improved the opportunity to study the face which bent over
the work. Could that calm, serene face, that manner so
quiet and yet so cheerful, belong to one who had suffered the
losses and bereavements of which her uncle had spoken?
These thoughts suddenly recalled the conversation with the
young man at the cottage in which they had taken shelter from
the rain on their return from the Falls. She remembered the
very tone of the voice in which the one word "satisfied" had
been spoken, and it now seemed to her that this word would
best describe the expression of the face before her. Here was
another satisfied one. Of this she felt sure. Yet why was it
so ? It could not be from the things without, for only half an
hour before Alice had made up her mind that this woman's
outward circumstances must necessarily make her very sorrow-
ful, if not discontented. If it was not from the things without,
then it must be, even as that young man had said, from some-
thing within. What could that something be? Whatwas this
secret, this happiness springing neither from outward circum-
stances, nor yet from satisfaction with one's self, and still giving
such calmness, sweetness, and serenity that even the counte-
nance and the very tones of the voice were the unconscious
witnesses of this inward composure ?
Very soon the dress was completed and laid aside, and
Mrs. Carroll told Alice that she was now ready to take up her
dress. Some conversation followed about the use for which it
was designed and the mode of fitting and making it.
"I shall have to detain you but a little longer," said Mrs.
Alice was sorry to hear this. She had been too well enter-
tained to be in any haste to leave; besides, she had her fears
that time might hang heavily on her hands after her return to
her aunt's.

48 Alice keis with the Dress.
When shall you want me again ? she asked.
Not until to-morrow."
"I wish I could sew upon the dress," said Alice; "but I
don't know anything about working on dresses, though Uncle
Ward says it's time I did," she added archly, as she remem-
bered her uncle's words.
Mrs. Carroll smiled. I suppose you know something
about sewing ?" she said.
"Oh yes; I can sew some things neatly, but I have never
worked on dresses."
If you can sew well, you could easily do some parts of the
dress with the aid of a few simple directions."
Do you think so ?" said Alice, with an eager look which
showed that the thought gave her pleasure.
I have no doubt you would find it so. If you would like
to spend the rest of the morning here, I will prepare a part of
the dress for you and show you how it is to be done."
"Thank you. I should like it very much," said Alice,
pleased with the thought of helping forward the work,
and still more to have an excuse for remaining longer
with Mrs. Carroll, towards whom she felt herself strangely
As they plied their needles Mrs. Carroll seemed at no loss
for subjects of conversation. Some incidental remark showed
Alice that she knew something of her past history, and when
the fact of her orphanage was touched upon, there was an
added gentleness on Mrs. Carroll's part.
Alice saw and appreciated this. Never since the death of
her mother had she met with one who had so impressed her,
to whom she thought it would be so easy to give an almost
filial love and confidence. Her Aunt Grey, though kind, was
not one to win a large share of these. She had come to
Maysville with the secret hope of finding such a one in her

Introduction to Miss Foster.

Aunt Ward. How easy it would be, she thought, to open her
heart to her aunt, if she were only like Mrs. Carroll.
Their conversation was presently interrupted by the entrance
of a young girl a little older than Alice, who came for the dress
Mrs. Carroll had just completed. She was introduced to Alice
as Miss Emma Foster.
"I hoped you would come this morning, Emma," said
Mrs. Carroll, "that I might have the pleasure of introducing
you to Miss Grey, for I feel sure you will enjoy each other's
society while she remains in Maysville."
I have been counting upon that," said Emma, with a bright,
frank smile, which at once gave Alice a favourable opinion of
her new acquaintance. "Mrs. Ward told me, two days ago,
that she expected her niece to spend some time with her; and
I was very glad, for I think summer visitors make the place so
lively and cheerful, and, as Miss Grey is about my age, I had
a special interest in her arrival."
Alice was well pleased to hear that any one had taken an
interest in her coming, and she felt sure that she should like
the young girl who seemed so ready to welcome her to
My brother came last night," continued Emma. He will
be at home through all the long summer vacation. Shan't we
have nice times?" she added gaily.
"I have no doubt you will," said Mrs. Carroll, with that
ready sympathy which won for her so many youthful friends.
"We have such fine rides when he is at home," continued
Emma. "By the way, we have one planned for this afternoon,
and we shall be very glad to call for you Miss Grey, if you will
accompany us;" to which informal invitation Alice gladly
"When shall I come again?" said Alice, as she was about
leaving Mrs. Carroll at noon.

0 Affairs Brig-itening.

"Would you like to sew more on the dress ?"
Indeed I should, if it is not too much trouble to give me
the necessary instruction."
"It is no trouble, but a pleasure. You are engaged for this
afternoon. Come as early to-morrow as you like, and we will
spend the morning together."
"Thank you," said Alice; "that will be delightful."
Alice returned to her aunt's house feeling that everything
w is wearing a very different aspect from that which the morn-
ing had presented. She had much enjoyed the time spent with
Mrs. Carroll, and she had there met with one of her own age,
who, she was sure, would prove an agreeable acquaintance.
She had before her the prospect of a pleasant drive that after-
noon, and the next morning was to be spent with Mrs. Carroll,
Certainly things were very much brightening. There was a
fair prospect that she might even yet enjoy herself in Mays-
ville, and have no cause to regret that she had chosen to come
"I like Mrs. Carroll very much," Alice remarked at the
dinner-table that noon.
I am glad to see that you're such a good judge of character,"
replied her uncle. There isn't a woman in Maysville more
highly esteemed than Mrs. Carroll. The course she has taken
since the death of her husband has won for her the esteem of
all sensible people. But how is the dress progressing? I feel
an interest in that."
Oh, finely. I am to go there to-morrow morning and help
sew upon it."
"That's sensible, I'm sure. I told the people at the farm
that I should bring you up the next time I came; so I shall
hope to find you in readiness. They asked why I didn't bring
you to-day."
"What did you tell them ?"

Uncle Ward's Humour.

"I told them that you were like the heroine of a certain
popular ballad who had 'nothing to wear,'" said her uncle,
with a comical smile.
"Why, uncle! what did they think?" said Alice, hardly
knowing whether to be amused or vexed.
"Don't trouble yourself about that," said her aunt. They
have known your uncle some time longer than you have, and
know how to take him. He always will say just what he has a
mind to, and yet people never take it amiss."
I suppose that's because they fail to discover any malice
aforethought,'" said her uncle, laughing; and Alice was
strengthened in the previous impression that she should get
on very well with her Uncle Ward.




NOT long after breakfast the next day, Alice started for Mrs.
Carroll's. She counted upon a very pleasant morning spent
with her, and was not disappointed. The ride of the after-
noon before was one of the first subjects of conversation, after
they were well settled at their work.
"I suppose you had a pleasant time?" said Mrs. Carroll.
"Very pleasant," Alice replied; and then went on to give
various particulars of their ride.
"We passed a cottage at the upper end of the village that I
admired very much," she said; "it looks so neat and home-
like. I noticed it when I rode out with my uncles the day
that Uncle Grey spent here. There is something about it that
takes my fancy. I think I should like to live in just such a
house in the country myself, at least during the warm season."
Alice described the situation.
'I ought to know the place well, for it was the home of my
married life," said Mrs. Carroll, quietly.
"Is it possible! said Alice. "Was that delightful place
your home? and were you obliged to leave it ?"
"Not quite obliged to, but I thought it best to sell it."
"I am sure it must have made you very unhappy."
"No, my dear. It was certainly a trial to leave a home I

" For Yesus' rake."

loved so much, but the circumstances were such that it would
have made me more unhappy to keep it."
"How could that be ? "
"I will tell you. Perhaps you know that I have a son."
"No," said Alice, "I did not know it."
"I have, and he is now at college. Arthur was at school,
preparing for college, when his father died. He gave himself
to God and His service at an early age, and it was his earnest
desire to spend his life in preaching the Gospel. This was
also the desire of his parents, and what they had long hoped
and prayed for.
"My husband met with some serious losses not long before
he died, and after his death it was found that very little
remained to us except our home. This we might have retained,
if Arthur had given up his studies and entered at once upon
some remunerative employment. But to this I could not
consent. By selling the place and taking the rooms I now
occupy, and in .part supporting myself in the way I now do,
Arthur would be enabled to pursue his studies without inter-
ruption, until he was prepared for the work on which we'had
so wished that he should enter. I was not long in deciding
upon this course."
"Then you gave up your home for your son's sake," said
Alice, deeply interested in the story.
Mrs. Carroll reflected for a moment, and then said rever-
ently, "No, not for his sake, but for Jesus' sake. I am not
so sure it would have been right for me to give it up for
Arthur's sake only."
It must nave been hard for you to leave that pleasant
"It was indeed a trial, for I loved the dear place."
"It was giving up a great deal," said Alice.
'God's promise is," said Mrs. Carroll, "that a hundredfold

54 The Dress finished.
shall be received for all that is given up for His sake. Our
self-denial was small compared with that of many others, and
yet I think we have already received the hundredfold. We
are both so much happier than we should have been, had we
come to a different conclusion, it is so sweet to think that
all we have and are is devoted to Christ's service; and we are
both well satisfied."
Alice looked up quickly as the last word was spoken, and
Mrs. Carroll saw that she was moved, but there was no time
for further conversation, for just at that moment they were
What was said that morning furnished food for many after-
thoughts and questioning with Alice-such thoughts as had
not been wont to visit the mind of the young girl, but, having
once found a place there, were not easily dislodged.
The next day the dress was finished. Alice was both glad
and sorry-glad to have it done, yet sorry that she should
now, as she thought, have no further excuse for seeing one
who had so won her regard and affection.
".Don't be in haste to go," said Mrs. Carroll; "I shall be
glad to have you sit awhile with me, if you have no other
engagement this morning."
During the hour thus spent, Alice took up a book lying upon
the table, which she had not before seen.
"Arthur sent it to me,' said Mrs. Carroll. I received it
last night."
Alice looked it over; and as she was fond of reading, soon
became quite interested in its contents.
Mrs. Carroll perceived this, and said, "You are quite wel-
come to take it home with you, if you would like to read it.
You must have a great deal of leisure for reading, and no
doubt you will finish it before I shall be ready to commence it."
A sudden thought entered the mind of Alice. If you

Visits to the Farm.

only had some one to read it to you while you were at work,"
she said, "you would not have to wait for leisure to enjoy it,
and I should enjoy reading it to you."
"Indeed !" said Mrs. Carroll, with a heartiness that left no
doubt of her sincerity, "that is just the nicest plan possible,
and I have no doubt that we shall both enjoy it better than
to read it by ourselves. If you can come for an hour or two
in the morning, we shall not be liable to interruptions."
Alice was well pleased with this arrangement. She would
now have an excuse for spending a part of each day with Mrs.
Carroll for some days to come; and when the book was
finished perhaps there would be another to read, or they
would become so well acquainted that she might venture to
call without any excuse for doing so.
That afternoon Alice went with her uncle to the farm, and
was conducted by him all round the place which had been his
home for many years. She enjoyed it very much. She was
introduced to the people who lived on the farm, and found
them well-disposed and very agreeable.
The next Monday morning, when Alice went down to break-
fast, she found that it was waiting for her uncle.
He will be here in a moment, when he has put out the
horse," her aunt said.
"You have taken an early ride, uncle," said Alice, as her
uncle seated himself at the table.
"Yes, I've been to take the clothes up to Aunt Nancy, as
I do every Monday morning. You see your aunt is so parti-
cular that she can't have a girl in the house. I tell her some-
times she has done hard work enough to take life easy now,
but she says that it would be more trouble to put things
straight after one of those girls than they are worth; and it
might be so with her. But Aunt Nancy is so nice that even
my wife can find no fault with her work; so we employ her

56 Going to see Aunt Nancy.

for the washing and ironing every week, and I am not sure
but it's on the whole the most comfortable arrangement that
we could have. By the way, you must make the acquaintance
of Aunt Nancy. She is the best woman in Maysville."
"Better than Mrs. Carroll ?" said Alice.
Her uncle laughed. Well, to be sure they are not much
alike," he said. Mrs. Carroll is an intelligent, refined, and
cultivated woman, fitted to adorn any society, while Aunt
Nancy is poor and ignorant; but if the Lord were to come to
Maysville to count up His jewels, I don't believe that poor
old Aunt Nancy would be accounted as second to any of
"Where does she live ?"
Very near the old place," as Mr. Ward always designated
the farm on which he had lived so long. The house is in
plain sight as we go up there. Probably you did not notice it.
It is just a little way on the road that turns to the left. I will
take you with me when I go after the clothes, and then you
will have a chance to make Aunt Nancy's acquaintance."
"Thank you, uncle."
A part of that morning and the next were pleasantly spent
with Mrs. Carroll in reading and conversation. In the after-
noon her uncle looked in, and inquired if Alice was ready to
go with him to see Aunt Nancy.
Are you quite ready? "
"No, but I shall be in two minutes."
I will be ready in that time," said Alice; and she was as
good as her word.
"There is the house," said Mr. Ward, as they came to the
road turning to the left.
"What! the best woman in Maysville live in that little
tumble-down house !" said Alice, half seriously, half playfully.
"The Bible says. 'Hath not God chosen the poor of this

Aunt Nancy's Home. 57

world rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom ?' said Uncle
"Rich in faith," Alice repeated to herself; but to her it
seemed a very intangible kind of riches.
It was near sunset, and Aunt Nancy, weary with the day's
toil, was resting for a little while. Busy with her thoughts, and
not as quick to hear as she had been in her younger days, she
knew nothing of the approach of Mr. Ward and his niece
until they stood in the doorway. When she saw them, she
made an unsuccessful attempt to rise.
Don't get up for us, Aunt Nancy," said Mr. Ward. It is
something of a job for you, and quite unnecessary. This is
my niece. I have brought her along, thinking you might like
to see a young miss arrived fresh from the great city."
"Yes, indeed. The sight of young falks always does my
old eyes good, they are so bright and cheerful-like."
As to the last, I don't believe any of them can beat you,"
said Mr. Ward, laughing.
Maybe not," said Aunt Nancy. When I have so much
to make me cheerful, it would be a sin and a shame not to
be so."
"'So much to make me cheerful,'" Alice wonderingly re-
peated to herself, as she looked around upon the bare, unpainted
walls and scanty furniture; but she had little time then to
think about it.
"I suppose the basket is ready," said Mr. Ward. "I will
leave Alice here while I go and speak to Mr. Leeds, who, I
see, is at work in the next field;" and in a moment he was
"I have two or three light articles to lay on the top, and I
will do it now, as your uncle may be back in a few minutes,"
said Aunt Nancy.
Again she attempted to rise from her chair; but she tried
sqtiye-. E

58 Honest Independence.

more than once before the effort was successful, and when she
was fairly out of it, her first steps were so tottering that Alice
sprang forward to her assistance.
"Never fear, young lady," said Aunt Nancy, I shall go
well enough when I once get started. This rheumatism makes
me very lame and stiff, and yet I can go as long and do as much
work as any woman of my age in Maysville."
But is it not very hard for you?"
"Not half so hard as not to be able to work. I don't have
much pain this time of the year. In the winter, sometimes,
when I have to go out a good deal in the cold and snow, the
pain is mighty hard, nights especially; so you see I know how
to be thankful for the long sunny days, when I am quite
Mr. Ward now returned, and the basket being ready, Alice
had no opportunity for further conversation with Aunt Nancy
at that time and on that occasion.
I don't like to think that poor lame old woman has to
wash and iron for me," said Alice, as they rode home.
"She seems to take it very cheerfully," said her uncle.
"Yes, she seems to have a wonderful way of taking every-
thing cheerfully; but it don't seem as if one ought to give her
hard work to do."
Mr. Ward laughed. I don't think she would consider it a
kindness to take away her work," he said. She has a good
deal of honest independence, and would consider it neither
pleasant nor right to eat the bread of charity, as long as she
can do anything for herself. I do try to come round her a
little in this respect; I pay her a certain sum of money every
week, and make up the rest by letting her have things raised
on the farm. When I carry her flour, potatoes, and other
vegetables, and she says, It's too much, Mr. Ward; I don't
earn it,' I always tell her she ought to be satisfied if I am,"

jh I .
~j'Ua ~
/ 'i'" .-4



F ?-

ii I

:' I ; '' ~~
'; e

A good Friend to Nancy. 61

She finds a good friend in you, I have no doubt," said
Alice, who before this had discovered that her uncle was kind.
It would be a shame to Maysville if she did not find
friends among those who have known her so long."
"Does every one here call her Aunt Nancy?" inquired
"She is pretty generally known by that name."



THAT week passed rapidly and pleasantly with Alice. She
enjoyed the morning readings with Mrs. Carroll, the rides
with her uncle to the farm and elsewhere, and pleasant
rambles through woods and fields with Emma Foster and her
brother, and other young people with whom she was becoming
acquainted. Every day she was more and more pleased with
her decision to come to Maysville.
But amid all this she did not forget the thoughts that fol-
lowed her home after her brief .interview with Aunt Nancy,
together with similar thoughts which had been awakened by
other incidents of the summer. Never before had she enter-
tained such serious thoughts about the soul's inner life, and
what constitutes true happiness. Very different are the
methods by which the soul is awakened to its first serious,
earnest thoughts about the things that concern its everlasting
peace. Some are aroused by a sense of danger, others are at
once convicted of the sinfulness of their hearts and lives.
Alice had been won to serious thoughts on these subjects by
her converse with some of God's dear children, who lived so
near to Him as to enjoy habitually the light of His counte-
nance and the joy of His salvation. The great lesson of her
own exceeding sinfulness and need of pardon and cleansing,

Alice's Diffculty. 63

she had yet to learn; but she had been led to feel that there
was a source of strength and peace and sweet content, of
which she knew nothing. She could not understand the
secret, yet there was in her heart a growing conviction that
she needed to know it.
The night she returned from Aunt Nancy's she thought she
would tell Mrs. Carroll all about her call there, the next day,
but the book she was reading, and various subjects of conver-
sation, took up the time; and this continued for several days.
But on the morning when the book was finished, while Alice
still lingered, something was said that reminded her of the
call at Aunt Nancy's, and she told her new friend all about it.
"Only think of her saying that she had so much to make
her cheerful," said Alice. "To me it seemed as if she had
nothing; and I can't understand how any one can be so happy
without a great deal to make her so."
"You are right about that," said Mrs. Carroll. "No one can
be so happy without a great deal to make him or her so."
Do you mean that you think Aunt Nancy has a great deal
to make her happy ? "
I certainly do think so."
"But she is very poor "
"And very rich also. Her riches are unseen and eternal.
Jesus said to Pilate, 'My kingdom is not of this world,' and it
is true of His followers now, that 'the kingdom of God is
within' them."
Alice was almost startled by these words, so forcibly did
they remind her of the hour at the cottage more than a year
ago, on the way back from the Falls. After a moment's
thought, she said--"I do wish, Mrs. Carroll, you would
explain that to me."
Explain what ?" said Mrs. Carroll, who was not quite sure
that she understood the request.

64 The Story of the Falls retold.

"The meaning of that passage, 'The kingdom of God is
within you.' I cannot understand it at all."
Then you have tried to understand it ?"
"Indeed I have; but I can make nothing of it."
"Then I would most earnestly advise you to ask God to
teach you what it means."
This is indeed strange," said Alice, more as if she were
speaking aloud her own thoughts than addressing Mrs. Carroll,
"What is strange ? inquired Mrs. Carroll.
"This is the second time I have been told just that."
"Will you tell me about the first time ?" said Mrs. Carroll,
who hoped to draw from Alice something that would be a clue
to her thoughts on this subject, and thus aid her in giving
timely instruction and counsel.
"Do you remember my telling you about my visit to the
country with uncle and aunt and cousin Mabel, and our ride
to those charming little Falls ?"
I remember it very well."
On our return we were overtaken by a sudden and violent
shower, and were obliged to seek shelter in a cottage. We
found the inmates very hospitable, and also very intelligent
and agreeable people. There were two young men at the
house. After a time one of them drew a chair to my side and
entered into conversation with me. He began by talking
about the Falls, but soon the conversation took a strange
"What do you mean by a strange turn ?"
"I mean it was very unlike any conversation I ever had
before with any one, and some things were said that I shall
never forget. We were talking about being contented or
satisfied. I said that I believed every one was sometimes dis-
satisfied, and that there were really no contented people in
the world. He said that I was mistaken, that there was such

"I don't understand it."

a thing as being satisfied, as he knew by experience; and
when he saw that I seemed surprised, he wrote on a slip of
paper a reference to the very words we have just been talking
about, and asked if I would not some time look out the pas-
sage, adding that if I understood it it would help me to
understand what he had just said, and that if I did not I
must ask God to teach me what it meant. Now it seems
quite singular that you both should tell me the same thing."
"I should think if any one himself understood the meaning
of these words, he might explain it to others."
If this young man did understand the true meaning of
these words, it was because God Himself had taught him.
He knew that none but God could teach him this, and that
none but God could teach you. It is the same with me, and
therefore I do not think it singular that we should both have
said the same thing."
Alice was silent for a moment; then she said, "I begin
to believe there are a few people in the world who are really
satisfied-that is, they are contented and cheerful."
She was thinking of the young man at the cottage, of Mrs.
Carroll, and Aunt Nancy, though she mentioned no names.
"I don't understand it, however," she added. "There are
times when I am very much dissatisfied."
"What is the cause of this dissatisfaction?"
"Various things. My cousin often says vexatious things,
and sometimes things really unkind. I hoped she would be
like a sister to me, but I don't find her so. Sometimes it
seems as if she really didn't love me at all, and I half suspect
the reason, though it is something that isn't my fault. Then
sometimes everything goes wrong, and I am for a while
thoroughly wretched."
Mrs. Carroll had so won the confidence of Alice that she

66 A Great Change needed.

opened her heart to her as she had never done to any one
since the death of her parents, and in this instance confidence
was not misplaced, as it so often is.
Is this wretchedness entirely the result of unkind words,
disappointments, and vexatious occurrences? Are these the
only cause of your unhappiness ?"
"No," said Alice, frankly. "After a time I begin to see
how foolish it is to let such things trouble me so much, and
how wrong some of my own thoughts and feelings have been;
and then I end with being thoroughly vexed with myself, and
ashamed, too; and that's the worst of the whole, for it's the
most uncomfortable of all uncomfortable things to be out of
sorts with one's self."
"That is very true, my dear," said Mrs. Carroll.
"Indeed it is. It's the very worst sort of dissatisfaction;
and that's what makes me think that I shall have to be very
much changed before I can be like those people."
"This is true, too, my dear girl, and this change is a
much greater one than you have now, probably, any con-
ception of."
Alice was not prepared for this answer; in fact, she was a
little startled by it, and began to wish that she had not been
quite so confidential with Mrs. Carroll.
"Do you think I am so .very bad ?" she said, in a tone
that partly betrayed her feelings. "It's very seldom that I
get out of sorts and all wrong in this way."
"That may be," said Mrs. Carroll, very gently, "but do
you therefore infer that all is right with you at other times?"
"Why, not exactly," said Alice, hesitatingly. "I don't
know what is the real truth about it," she added, after a
moment's thoughtful silence.
"We must go to the Word of God to learn that," said
Mrs. Carroll; "From His Word we must learn whether we

Mrs. Carrolfs Three Verses.

are wrong only occasionally, or whether this is true of every
day and hour."
Is any one so bad as that ?" asked Alice quickly.
"The true answer to that question must also be found in
God's Word. There we learn what is required of us at all
times. If we meet those requirements, all is right; but
something is wrong with us every day and hour in which we
violate this just and holy rule of life. Shall I give you a
short Bible lesson on this subject?"
Alice assented.
It shall be short, only three little verses," said Mrs.
Carroll, as she handed Alice a slip of paper on which she
had indicated the place where each verse was to be
found. "Study them some time when you are alone in
your room," she said, "and ask God to teach you their true
There was a hard shower just before sunset that night,
which prevented Alice from going out, and she retired early
to her room. When there her thoughts soon recurred to her
conversation with Mrs. Carroll and the slip of paper she had
given her. She drew it from her pocket, and after glancing
at it a moment, took up her Bible to look out the passages
referred to. The first was in the twenty-third chapter of
Proverbs, the last clause of the seventeenth verse: "Be thou
in the fear of the Lord all the day long."
This did not seem to her so hard to understand as the
passage referred to by the young man at the cottage. She
thought it meant that all the day we should fear to disobey
or displease God. It was evident, however, that one could
not obey this precept unless God was much in his thoughts;
but certainly it was not so with her. Taking the previous
day, for example, she could not recollect that she had had
one thought of God, unless it was during the morning hour

68 The Text in Ep/esians.

spent with Mrs. Carroll, who, though never obtrusive in the
mention of religious subjects, was habitually so full of God's
Spirit and presence, that it was not often one could spend
an hour of familiar converse with her without being in some
way reminded of Him. For the rest of that day Alice felt
that all her thoughts, feelings, and purposes might have been
just the same, had there been no God in the universe. And
what was true of that day had been more emphatically true of
very many days in past weeks, months, and years. Before
'she had done with that verse, she began to see that she must
abandon the thought that she was in the wrong only occa-
sionally. The subject was certainly wearing a serious aspect,
but she thought she would turn to the next verse, and perhaps
that would not so much condemn her.
This was in Ephesians, and finding it, she read, "Be ye
therefore followers of God, as dear children." This certainly
was a sweet, gentle, loving admonition; but, as her thoughts
dwelt upon it, she felt that, if possible, it condemned her
more than the first had done. She had, she thought, some-
times been withheld from sinful words and acts by the fear
of offending the Lord, but never had she followed Him as a
dear child. She remembered well how she had loved and
obeyed the dear parents who had been taken from her; how
often, even now, her imagination pictured the life she would
have lived with them, could they have been spared to her;
how devoted her love would have been, and how constant
her efforts to please them. Something like that, she was
sure, must be meant by the precept to follow God as dear
children; yet never for a single day of her life had she felt
towards God anything of this spirit of filial love and obedience.
Yet she felt assured there were those who thus followed Him.
She believed that Mrs. Carroll was one of them, and Aunt
Nancy also. Ah, these living epistles, what a gospel they

Alice's Heaviness of Heart.

often prove to those inquiring the way of life! Would that
there were more of them.
Alice sighed heavily as she turned to the next passage
marked by Mrs. Carroll, and read, Thou hast commanded
us to keep Thy precepts diligently." There was no comfort
for Alice here. She knew these precepts were found in the
neglected Book she held in her hand, which often had not
been read at all for months together, or if read, it was in
the most careless and formal manner, leaving hardly an im-
pression upon her mind. She had not even read these pre-
cepts constantly, earnestly, diligently; and certainly she had
not kept them. The Spirit of God was flashing conviction
through all her soul.
She recollected what Mrs. Carroll had said, that each one
was in the wrong every day and hour in which these just
and holy precepts were not obeyed. If this was so, and
reason and conscience told her it was, then surely she had
been in the wrong every day and hour of her life. The
longer she thought of these things, the deeper grew this
conviction. She began to see that there was a mine of evil
within her soul, the length, breadth, and depth of which were
known only to God. She no longer wondered that she had
so often been dissatisfied with herself; she only wondered
that she had not been continually thus dissatisfied. She
began to understand why Mrs. Carroll should speak of the
necessity of a very great change. It must be a change
indeed," were her thoughts. Can such a change ever come
to me? Can I ever become like Mrs. Carroll and Aunt
Nancy ?"
Alice retired that night with a heavy heart, and when she
arose the next morning it was not much lightened.
Mrs. Carroll had invited her to come often. Don't stay
away because the book is finished," she said. "We can find

" I have been all wrong."

plenty to read and talk about. I shall be very glad of your
company while I sit here sewing."
Alice had received this kind invitation gratefully, assuring
Mrs. Carroll that she would be very glad to come, for she
never enjoyed herself better than when with her, and she
found a good deal of leisure time in Maysville, especially
during the long summer mornings. She had intended to go
that morning, but now she hesitated. She wished to see her
friend, wished to tell her of all that was passing in her mind,
and yet was conscious also of a feeling of reluctance to do so.
For a time the two sentiments seemed evenly balanced, but at
last the latter prevailed, and Alice did not go to Mrs. Carroll's
that morning.
As the shades of evening drew on, she suddenly determined
that she would go. She thought the twilight hour just the
time to tell her friend of the dark and troubled state of her
mind, if indeed she could get courage to do so at all. She
received from Mrs. Carroll the usual cordial welcome.
"I expected you this morning," she said, as soon as Alice
was seated.
I thought of coming, but-I may as well own the truth at
once-I was so unhappy I did not care to see any one."
"So unhappy?" said Mrs. Carroll, interrogatively.
"Yes," said Alice; those Bible verses made me so. Oh,
Mrs. Carroll, I never saw it so before. Instead of being, as
I thought, a little wrong sometimes, I now see that I have
been all wrong my whole life."
The tears sprang to the eyes of Mrs. Carroll. I am very
glad," she said; and her voice was very tender, yet there was
in it an undertone of deep gladness.
"Glad that I am so bad and miserable?" exclaimed Alice.
"No, not that, but glad that you are learning the truth about
yourself, and very thankful that God Himself is teaching you."

The Second Bible Lesson.

"Teaching me said Alice, in a tone of surprise. "I had
not thought of that. It was those verses I read that made me
see it all."
Have you not read those same verses before more than
once or twice ? "
"No doubt I have."
"But you did not learn from them what you have now
Indeed I did not."
"And the reason of the difference is this. God Himself is
now teaching you, by His Spirit, these most important, though
painful lessons. It is true, yet a blessed truth, that God will
enter such hearts as ours, to teach us lessons that of ourselves
we can never learn; for He is able, by His Spirit, to lead us
into all truth. Other lessons He will yet teach you, if you
will listen to His voice and yield yourself to His teachings."
"This has been a very sad one," said Alice.
"Yes, but a most needful one. Shall I give you another
Bible lesson, a different one ?"
If you please," said Alice.
"Here are three more verses for you to study this evening,"
said Mrs. Carroll, as she handed Alice another slip of paper.
I know you will read them thoughtfully, and I earnestly hope
you will ask God to teach you their true meaning."
On her return, Alice went directly to her room to study this
second Bible lesson, given to her by her kind and faithful
friend. She turned to the first verse, and read: "Ask, and it
shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it
shall be opened unto you." Then to the second: For God
so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that
whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have ever-
lasting life." Then she read the third: Come now, and let
us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as

72 Thoughts and Struggles.
scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red
like crimson, they shall be as wool."
Alice read these verses again and again, but they brought
neither help nor comfort. God had chosen another instru-
mentality by which to bring home to her heart the knowledge
of His abounding grace, even to the chief of sinners. Again
she retired for the night with a heavy heart.
Awaking next morning some time before the usual hour of
rising, she lay thinking of all these things, her heart full of con-
tending emotions. In a kind of half despair, she would
reason that she was too great a sinner to be saved, and next,
with the strange inconsistency of the unbelieving heart, was
ready to murmur that God did not hear her cry, and grant to
her the mercy and grace which she had besought with many
prayers and tears. Then, falling into the mistake so often
made, of confounding feeling with believing, she would intensely
desire to feel that she was saved, forgiven, and cleansed, accord-
ing to the promise, and weary herself in the vain struggle to
feel all this, instead of simply believing that God would surely
fulfil His word.
In such thoughts and struggles the early morning hours
were passed.



ALICE was just debating the question whether she should spend
an hour with her friend Mrs. Carroll, when her uncle said to
I'm going to the farm this morning. Will you go with
Suddenly Alice determined that she would go with him and
give Aunt Nancy a call. She did not, indeed, propose to
confide to her the secret struggles, doubts, and fears which
were rendering her so unhappy, yet, without stopping to reason
about it, she had a secret feeling that it might do her good to
see the good woman and hear her talk, even though she should
herself keep silence in regard to what was passing in her mind.
"I think I will call upon Aunt Nancy this morning, while
you go on to the farm," said Alice to her uncle as they
approached the turn in the road.
"Just as you like. I see you're taking a fancy to our old
friend. You're not the only one. She's such a cheerful body,
that one is almost sure to feel better for spending a few
minutes with her, and you look, this morning, as if you needed
something to brighten you up. I will call there for you as I
come back."
As Alice standing in the open door bade Aunt Nancy good
Satisld. F

Aunt Nancy's Question.

morning, the latter looked keenly at her for a moment, fo!,
like many good people, she was not quick to recognize those
who were almost strangers to her.
"It's Miss Alice," she said after a moment. I'm very glad
to see you."
I thought I would stop this morning, and sit with you while
uncle is gone to the farm."
"That's right. I shall be glad to have you stop whenever
you can content yourself for a while in my poor old house.
I'm sure it must seem very poor and old to a young lady from
the city, who has been all her life used to fine things, though
it does not seem so to me."
You certainly contrive to be very happy in your home,"
said Alice.
"Why, yes, miss, indeed I am, and why shouldn't I be ?
I've spent many happy hours in the old place. Long ago my
Saviour used to make me a visit here now and then, but of
late years it just seems He stays all the while, and that's a
happy home where He is, if it is a humble one."
Alice listened with much interest, but not knowing very well
how to bear her part in such a conversation, she remained
silent. Aunt Nancy continued,-
"It's wonderful what a feast of love and grace God
spreads for us poor sinners, when we are willing to listen
to His voice and let Him come into our hearts. Will you
allow a poor old woman to ask if He has come into your
heart ? "
I don't understand these things. I wish I could take a
lesson from you," said Alice, in a tone which betrayed her
interest in the subject.
Aunt Nancy was quick to observe this, and looking wistfully
at Alice, said,-
I can't teach you, my dear young lady; only the Lord can

" Tell Him all about it."

do that. He's taught me, a poor, ignorant woman, and He'll
teach anybody who'll ask Him."
"But it is all dark to me, Aunt Nancy. I can't understand
"Then go to Jesus and tell Him so. Tell Him just what
you've told me."
Alice knew this was Aunt Nancy's way of directing her to
pray, but it was so expressed as to give her new thoughts about
prayer. Go and tell Jesus just what you have told me," she
had said, as if prayer was just talking with Jesus. Alice could
not doubt it was that to Aunt Nancy. If it could only be
the same to her !
He Himself says," Aunt Nancy continued, "'Behold, I
stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and
open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him,
and he with Me.' If you are willing to open the door, Jesus
will certainly enter your heart. I'm sure that He's knocking
loudly at this very time."
"What makes you think so?" asked Alice in some
"What you've said to me this morning. I've seen young
ladies who had nothing to say when I talked about Him.
It's because He is seeking you, that you are so different from
them. You may be sure that He is now beseeching you to
open the door to Him. Will you not let Him in?"
I don't know how," said Alice, the tears filling her eyes.
"I don't understand what it means."
"Then tell Him so; tell Him all about it. He always
hears the cry of poor lost sinners, and leads them out ot
darkness into light. His word is sure; and that word is,
'Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be
After a few more questions of this kind, and short Scripture
F 2

76 Dawn of the New Life.

answers from Aunt Nancy, new light began to break in upon
the mind of Alice; but there was not time for any long
conversation, for she soon heard her uncle's voice, and knew
that he was waiting for her in front of the house.
Once more in her own room, Alice again opened the Bible
which she had so lately begun to study, with an earnest
purpose to find in it the way of life. And now she kneeled
and prayed that God Himself would teach her. She turned
first to the passages quoted by Aunt Nancy, and next to the
verses of the last Bible lesson given her by Mrs. Carroll.
Their meaning became more clear to her, and their fitness
to her own case. She saw and believed in God's infinite
willingness to save, in the free, full offering of mercy to every
repenting sinner, in the infinite love which was waiting to be
gracious. It was, indeed, to her soul, a new revelation. It
was "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the
face of Jesus Christ."
As Alice sat in her room, shedding those tears which flow
at the soul's first view of forgiving love, did not some angel
wing his way above, to bear the good news to the mother who
had left her child to the sure mercies of a covenant-keeping
God at the tender age of six years ?
The next morning, as Alice was preparing for a call upon
her friend Mrs. Carroll, whom she much wished to see, her
uncle came in to ask if she was ready for another ride to the
farm. Alice instantly accepted the invitation. She would
gladly call upon Aunt Nancy instead of Mrs. Carroll, feeling
that there was no one to whom she could more easily speak,
for the first time, of the new hopes and joys, the new life that
was dawning upon her soul.
As she sprang lightly into the waggon, her uncle said, I
am glad to see you looking so bright this morning. You have
looked rather downcast for two or three days, and I was

You have found Yesus! 77

making up my mind that you were pining for the seaside and
sorry that you ever came to Maysville."
Oh no, indeed; you are quite mistaken. I am so thank-
ful I came here."
There was a touch of feeling in the tone which led her
uncle to give her one of those keen glances with which he
sometimes seemed to read her very thoughts.
Alice wanted to tell him why she was so thankful, but
timidity prevented. She thought she could more easily tell
that story for the first time to Mrs. Carroll or Aunt Nancy.
As they neared the turn of the road, she said, Do you think,
uncle, that Aunt Nancy will get tired of me if I spend the
time with her this morning?"
No fear of that; she likes to see the young folks."
As Alice, after leaving her uncle, walked towards the house,
she began to think how she should tell the story of what the
Lord had done for her soul. She little thought that there
would be no need of words.
Aunt Nancy, after giving one keen glance at her visitor as
she met her at the door, exclaimed,-
Oh, Miss Alice, you have found Jesus !"
How can you know that, when I have not spoken one
word ?" asked Alice in surprise.
Your face tells the story. I'm sure I'm not mistaken."
Indeed you are not mistaken. Since I saw you last I
have found how ready God is to have mercy on every penitent
sinner. It is wonderful."
The hour that followed was such a one as Alice had never
before spent, while the aged saint and the youthful convert
talked together of the love of Jesus and the blessedness of a
life devoted to His service.
That evening Alice again chose the twilight hour for a visit
to Mrs. CarrolL This interview was a very precious one to

78 What can I do for yesus ? "
Alice, as were also many that followed. Her admiration for
this truly Christian lady, which had commenced with their first
meeting, had ripened into warm and confiding friendship on
the part of Alice, while Mrs. Carroll found that the gentle,
sensitive, and confiding orphan-girl was winning a large place
in her warm motherly heart.
Earnest desires were now awakening in the mind of Alice
to do something for Him who had given Himself for her, and
she began in some degree to realize that the true Christian
life on earth is a life of service; but she found some diffi-
culties in answering the practical question what she herself
could do.
"What can I do for Jesus?" was the question she asked
of her friend, Mrs. Carroll, as they sat conversing one
"That question you must yourself ask Him every day,"
said Mrs. Carroll. "' My sheep hear My voice, and I know
them, and they follow Me.' These words of our Lord mean
a great deal to me. It is not a small thing for our naturally
wayward hearts to learn to follow Jesus by daily, simple,
child-like obedience to His Word and providence-to be
willing that He should lead us in every step of life.
Some think that they are willing to do a great deal for
Jesus, but they want to do it in their own way. They want
to mark out their own course and form their own schemes, and
then have Jesus go with them in their way and give success to
their plans. When His own dear children make this mistake,
He soon begins to teach them that they must follow, not lead.
Some are long in learning this lesson, and are taught it
through many sorrows and disappointments.
"Never till it is learned can we be 'followers of God, as
dear children.' When it is learned the Christian life takes
on those beautiful, child-like forms of simplicity and godly

Alice's Present Work.

sincerity, which so honour the Master, and render His
followers living epistles, 'known and read of all men.'
"This is the principle of the Christian life, ever to be kept
in mind, and is the first and most important answer to your
question. But I would also suggest that much of your
present work lies in preparation for future service, for you are
now laying the foundations of future character, influence, and
usefulness. What we are, and what we may become by the
diligent and faithful improvement of the opportunities God
has given us, are of much greater importance than what we
have, as the outward circumstances of our lives in this
changing world are liable at any time to change.
"You have one grand opportunity now to improve. God
has given you the means of acquiring an excellent education,
and this is especially the work He is now giving you to do,
for your education may be not only of great value to yourself.
but a means of much usefulness to others. Knowledge is
power,' and when used in the service of Christ, it becomes a
great power for good."
Alice looked thoughtful. These words reminded her of the
remarks of her teacher, which had been reported to her by
her schoolmate.
"I know I have not been as diligent as I might in the
past," she said, frankly.
You have a new motive for diligence now, the best and
highest of all motives, and it should be the most powerful."
It certainly should be so," said Alice, very thoughtfully.
"But while improving opportunities from which a rich
harvest may be reaped in the future, if such should be the
will of the Master, be careful not to live in the future, but in
the present.
"One great secret of a holy life is a simple, humble
obedience to the will of God, as it is daily and hourly made

A Mistake that is made.

known to us by His Word and providence. It is a great
mistake to neglect the smallest present duty, because the
mind is preoccupied with the future, and with that wider
field of usefulness which it is supposed that future may have
in store."

1-'-.- -'- '. -v .

L -*- -, --

S .1
'l i ; i ii i' t f l '; -
', V .. I { h, r
.... ,,'

&,-. i 1',, '* :.
.- ,*-.i -

S' ; i



THE weeks passed rapidly, and the time spent in Maysville
seemed too short, when the summons came for Alice to return
to her uncle and aunt in the great city.
She had enjoyed much in Maysville, and she could not part
from it, and from those whom she loved there, without some
regretful feelings. She looked forward, however, to a renewal
of these pleasures and this friendly intercourse in the following
summer, for her uncle and aunt had said that she must then
visit them again, and remain as long as other engagements
would permit. This she had promised to do, and the anticipa-
tion made the present leave-taking far more cheerful than it
would otherwise have been.
When Alice reached town, she did not find her Uncle Grey
at the station. He was too busy, and sent in his stead George
Willis, one of the clerks in his employ. This young man had
been in his warehouse some two or three years. He was the
son of an old friend, and Mr. Grey treated him almost as one
of the family, inviting him to spend an evening with them
whenever he had leisure and inclination.
These evening calls, and the frequent special commissions
with which he was intrusted, led to his passing in and out
quite as one of the household, without a shadow of formality.

82 Uncle Grey's Questions.

As he had often acted as escort both for Mabel and Alice
when they had need of one, and their uncle was too busy to
fill the office in person, Alice was not at all surprised to find
that he was her uncle's substitute on this occasion.
Her uncle, however, honoured her arrival by returning
home to dinner ten minutes before his usual time, and Alice
appreciated this mark of attention. She knew it meant
something from one who was always so busy, and who
understood the mercantile value of ten minutes in business
When Alice heard her uncle's step in the hall, she ran down
to meet him.'
"Right glad to see you," he said. How bright you are
looking. I declare there are country roses on your cheeks.
I am sure you have enjoyed your visit to Maysville."
"Indeed I have," said Alice.
"I am glad to hear it, for I must confess that I have had
my misgivings. I was afraid you might regret that you did
not go with us; and had it been so, I should have regretted
it too."
I have not regretted it, unless it was the day you left me.
I have spent a very pleasant summer."
Did you like your Aunt Ward so very much ? and did she
succeed in making it so pleasant for you?"
Not exactly that," said Alice, hesitatingly. I think Aunt
Mary was just as good to me as she knew how to be; but if I
had not a good deal besides to make it pleasant, I could not
have enjoyed it as I did."
"What were the things that made it so pleasant ?"
"I found some very pleasant people, and I enjoyed the
walks and rides very much. I explored every nook, just as
Aunt Grey said I would."
"I dare say you did that," said her uncle, laughing, and



- r-- --;; --- -;
_1HV _ETAV_---E_--_-E-ASANT SM
-- -- ~- .. .. __ = _


!l t,"11;'


1 4,3

Igave my Heart to God." 85

seeming quite satisfied with the account given of the things
which had made the summer pass so pleasantly.
But if Mr. Grey was satisfied, Alice certainly was not. She
had given some reasons why she was glad that she had spent
the summer in Maysville, but had omitted the one which,
not only in reality, but also in her own estimation, far out-
weighed all the others. Was this frank and truthful ? Was it
indeed anything less than being ashamed to confess Christ
before her uncle?
The heart of Alice recoiled with dismay from the thought
of such a beginning; yet it was not easy to say what had been
left unsaid. If it had been Mrs. Carroll or Aunt Nancy, it
would have seemed the most easy and natural thing in the
world; but to her uncle, a man of the world, who could not
have the smallest sympathy with the new life that had dawned
in her soul, it certainly was not easy to speak of it. Instantly
she lifted up her heart in such a cry for help as is never uttered
in vain.
So rapid is thought, that all this passed through her mind
almost before her uncle was conscious that there was a pause
in the conversation. Little thought he of the temptation, the
struggle, the prayer, the victory, which had preceded the words
when Alice said,-
I have not yet told you the greatest reason I have for
being thankful that I went to Maysville this summer."
Tell me about that, by all means," said her uncle, lightly.
Alice no longer hesitated, but said simply, I gave my hearL
to God while in Maysville. It was there I found the Saviour;
and I shall always be thankful I went there."
"Is the Saviour in Maysville more than anywhere else?"
asked her uncle, in a tone half playful, half serious.
"No, uncle," replied Alice, in a tone wholly serious. He
is everywhere; but I think we never realize this till we receive

86 Alice's Forebodings.

Him into our own hearts, and this I never did until I went to
There was time for no more words, as others now entered
the room, but there had been time for a transaction of the
utmost importance to Alice. It is hardly possible to over-
estimate the value to her of this first confession of Christ in
her city home. Had the first step been wrong, what weak-
ness, darkness, and doubt might have been the result. But
she had not been ashamed of her Master. In the first hour
of trial she had proved loyal to Him, and had also proved
His power to give grace and strength in the moment of need.
Sweetly calm and peaceful were the remaining hours of that
day, in the blessed consciousness of a Presence that was with
her in her home at her uncle's as well as in Maysville.
Before Alice left the country, her regret at parting with her
Christian friends there had not been unmingled with appre-
hension, as she thought how much she would need their
counsel and help amid the trials and temptations which must
await her in the city.
Something of these forebodings she at one time expressed
to Mrs. Carroll.
"Christ will be with you there; and He is all," was the
reply. "He can give you the counsel and aid of Christian
friends to assist you, or He can help and strengthen you
without them, just as He sees fit. But I have no doubt that
you will find Christian friends in your city home. There is a
heavenly attraction, by which such souls are drawn to each
other, and I shall be surprised if you do not find yourself
thus drawn to some whom you will meet."
Alice soon proved the truth of these words. Among her
aunt's friends was one, who, being a near relative of the
family, was quite an informal, if not a very frequent visitor.
Soon after the return of Alice, this lady, Mrs. Newman, called

A Sad Case of Distress,

to spend an hour with the family. Alice soon found herself
observing the lady with an interest she had never felt before.
A remark dropped now and then, a something scarcely defin-
able in look and tone, touched a responsive chord in the
heart of the young Christian, and before Mrs. Newman took
leave that morning, Alice began to cherish the hope that
she would prove one of those Christian friends whom Mrs.
Carroll was so confident that she would find.
Nor was she disappointed in this expectation. In a few
days Mrs. Newman called again, this time, as she said,
on special business. Many were the visits she paid to the
homes of the sick, the sorrowing, and the destitute; and
when cases of need brought to her knowledge proved too
much for her own resources, she sought to enlist the sympathy
and aid of others.
It was on such an errand she.had come that morning. In
her visits of mercy she had found a family whose case moved
her deepest sympathies. The father, injured by a serious acci-
dent, had for months been laid aside from work, and though
slowly recovering, he was not yet able to labour. This misfor-
tune had reduced the family to poverty, and obliged them
to seek shelter in a miserable tenement with the most depress-
ing surroundings.
To these accumulated misfortunes had recently been added
the severe illness of the eldest daughter. She had been sick
with a fever, but now seemed sinking in a rapid decline.
It is my own opinion that the girl may be saved," said Mrs.
Newman, "by removing the family to a comfortable tenement
and providing for their necessities until the father is once
more able to work."
Alice listened to all this with deep interest. She was sup-
plied with a liberal allowance of spending money, though a
somewhat thoughtless use of it had left little in her hands at

The Visit to the Wretched Home.

the present time. She, however, instantly resolved to do what
she could.
Mrs. Newman was gratified at the sum placed in her hands
by the young girl, but still more by the warm interest mani-
fested in this tale of suffering. The latter prompted her to
ask Alice if she would not accompany her when she went to
visit the family the next day.
Alice hesitated, for she shrank from a visit to this wretched
abode and the sight of so much suffering; but in a moment
she thought, "If my Master was on earth, would He decline
such an invitation, and if I follow Him shall I not accept it ?"
and without further hesitation she thanked Mrs. Newman and
told her that she would go.
Alice never forgot the lesson she learned during that after-
noon with Mrs. Newman, and that first visit to the wretched
abodes of city poverty. She found a personal visit a very
different thing from reading the reports of those employed to
seek out and relieve destitution, or even listening, as she had
sometimes done, to the verbal descriptions of those familiar
with such scenes. It gave her a very different conception of
the poverty and sorrow which, in a great city, everywhere
It was her only visit to that miserable abode. The next time
she went to call upon the family, they had been removed to
more comfortable quarters. Alice continued to aid in supply-
ing their need, often at the cost of some self-denial on her part,
until the good days Mrs. Newman had so confidently prophesied
dawned upon them: the father able once more to return to his
usual employment and the daughter restored to health, they no
longer had need of the helping hand without which they could
never have safely passed through the.dark days.
Alice found in Mrs. Newman a true and faithful Christian
friend. She found others also, as Mrs. Carroll had predicted.

Alice speaks to Young Willis. 89

In the sanctuary, too, in the Sunday-school, and the weekly
prayer-meeting, she learned that there were green pastures and
still waters in her city home, as well as in Maysville.
Her thoughts often turned to the home-circle, with earnest
longings to see its inmates gathered, with herself, into the fold
of Christ; but here she found little to cheer and encourage
In the Sunday-school of which she was a member, was a
large class of young men. She seldom had her attention
drawn to this class without thinking of George Willis, and
wishing that he were a member of it. She had thought of this
many times before she found courage to speak to him on the
subject; but at last, seizing a favourable opportunity, she
summoned courage to do so.
Why do you not join Mr. Arthur's Bible-class ? she asked.
"I am sure you would like it. I have heard one or two speak
of him as the best teacher they ever had."
I dare say," Willis replied, somewhat carelessly.
"I wish you would go," persisted Alice.
I will think about it," said the young man.
For several succeeding Sundays Alice watched this
class, to see if George Willis was there, and each Sabbath
saw with regret that he was not among the pupils. She
resolved that she would not give up her desire without
one more effort, though it cost her not a little to speak the
second time.
I have looked for you in Mr. Arthur's class, and I have
been disappointed not to see you there," she said.
Do you mean that you have cared so much about it, that
it has been a real disappointment not to see me there?" he
asked in some surprise.
"I do indeed mean it."
Then, I will go, if it's only to please you."
BriVC4. Q

90 One Point gained.

Young Willis was as good as his word, and the next Sabbath
found him in Mr. Arthur's class.
Alice was pleased to have gained even this point, and perhaps
the more so, as it seemed to her the only influence for good
that she had been able to exert within the home-circle. She
could not get on at all with Mabel, who persistently turned the
conversation whenever Alice attempted to speak of those
things which now lay nearest her heart. As to her uncle and
aunt, it seemed to her that she could not even hope to do them
good, when their relative position was such, that they naturally
expected to lead and influence her, rather than to be led and
influenced by her. She little thought that the few words she
had spoken to her uncle on returning from Maysville had left
any impression.



A LARGE portion of the following summer was spent by Alice
in Maysville. It is unnecessary to describe this second summer,
in many respects so like the first. There were the rides with
her uncle to the "old place and many other places, the hours
spent with her friend Mrs. Carroll, who constantly became more
dear to her, and the frequent calls upon Aunt Nancy when she
went with her uncle to the farm, besides many pleasant hours
spent with Emma Foster and other companions of her own
When with Mrs. Carroll, Alice spoke freely of all that had
interested her during the winter. She told her how much more
she had enjoyed her school and her studies since, by increased
diligence and application, she had been able to master each
difficulty as it presented itself. She also spoke of the pleasure
she derived from the approbation of her teachers, and from the
consciousness that she was doing faithfully this part of present
She had also much to say of Mrs. Newman and her many
benevolent plans, and of her own interest in them.
My first gift was from mere impulse," she said; "but when
I began seriously to look at the great work to be done in this
direction, I was tempted to feel that it was useless for me to

The Uncertain Future.

attempt anything while so little of my money was at my own
disposal. I began to indulge in many plans about the good I
would do when I could spend money as I chose. But then I
recollected what you had said to me about living in the present,
not in the future, and how you had spoken of the folly of
occupying the mind with plans and dreams, to the neglect of
what seems even the most unimportant of personal claims.
Then I saw clearly that, for me, the work of the present was to
do all in my power with the money now placed at my disposal,
for the poor and needy, by self-denial and shunning needless
I am thankful, indeed," said Mrs. Carroll, if any words of
mine have helped you to take such right views of present duty.
Nothing can be more uncertain than the future, with all of us.
It would be sad indeed if, by trusting to that uncertain future
and neglecting present opportunities, however small, we should
at last fail to be found among those to whom the King will
say, I was an hungred, and ye gave Me meat: I was thirsty,
and ye gave Me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took Me in :
naked, and ye clothed Me: I was sick, and ye visited Me: I
was in prison, and ye came unto Me. I say unto you,
Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My
brethren, ye have done it unto Me.'

'Every hour that fleets so slowly
Has its task to do or bear.
Luminous the crown and holy,
If thou set each gem with care.''

For several years Alice spent a portion of each summer in
Maysville. Sometimes it was only two or three weeks, but
whether longer or shorter, these seasons were greatly enjoyed.
Nor was Alice the only one benefited by them. The
neighbours said Mrs. Ward was getting to be a different woman


: : 7 x:- :--_-=- CT- =; ---: -_ .. ..
2' s-~--

L .-




Mrs. Draper and her Son. 95

since her niece spent so much time there; that a young person
in the house was just what she needed. At all events, Mr.
Ward was sure it was just what he needed, and these visits
were a positive delight to the cheerful, genial old man.
During the winters spent in the city, Alice did not lose her
interest in the needy and destitute, and by many a little self-
denial, known only to Him who searcheth all things, she did
what she could for the relief of these suffering ones.
One winter she became deeply interested in the case of a
poor widow, whose only son, a lad of about eight, had long
been ailing, and now seemed to be slowly wasting away.
There was much in Mrs. Draper that excited the sympathy
and regard of Alice. She was so patient and uncomplaining,
and showed such devoted mother-love for the feeble child who
was her all. She also gave proof of neat and orderly habits,
notwithstanding the disadvantages under which she laboured
in the very undesirable tenement which was the best she could
afford to occupy. She was a Christian, too, Alice felt sure, for
though she said little, she certainly manifested the grace of
Christian patience and resignation.
"Doesn't Benny grow any better ?" Alice asked one day
when she called to leave some toys, which she hoped would
help to while away the weary hours.
The poor mother shook her head sorrowfully. Benny was
himself too much occupied with a new picture-book to heed
what they were saying, and Alice went on. "Can nothing be
done to help him ?" she asked.
"I fear not," said Mrs. Draper-" at least, nothing that I
can do."
"Is there anything that would help him if you could
do it?"
Perhaps not, though the doctor says if I could take him
into the country it might save him; but that I can't do."

96 The Summer Visit to 3Maysville.

"I wish it could be done," said Alice, thoughtfully; but
Mrs. Draper only sighed, as she cast a loving glance at the
child, who, for the moment, had lost all sense of weariness or
pain in the delight afforded by the bright pictures of the book
whose leaves he was slowly turning.
As Alice left Mrs. Draper, she resolved that she would have
a talk with her friend, Mrs. Newman, on the subject. But
this resolution was not carried into effect. In a few days
Alice left the city for her usual summer visit to Maysville, and
several things conspired to render these days very busy ones,
so that she scarcely had time even to think of Mrs. Draper and
poor Benny, until she found herself quietly seated in the train
that was swiftly bearing her toward the country village which
had become dear to her.
The sight of the green fields and leafy woods brought back
a very vivid remembrance of the poor city boy and the wish
she had felt that he might find a home in the country. Some-
thing of self-reproach mingled with these thoughts. True, she
had been very busy, but if she had made the effort, she thought
she might at least have managed to call upon Mrs. Newman
and have a talk with her on the subject. She feared she had
been selfish in allowing her mind to become so engrossed with
her own affairs as almost to forget the poor widow and her
son, and she feared that Benny's pale, wan face would haunt
her when she crossed the green fields or wandered in the
favourite groves of Maysville. But such thoughts were all put
to flight when once she reached her uncle's house, and met the
warm greeting there awaiting her. There was too much to
hear and say to leave much room for thinking.
As Alice sat at the tea-table with her uncle and aunt, she
said, I have not yet inquired after Aunt Nancy. How is she
getting along ?"
"Aunt Nancy is going down hill pretty fast," replied her

Alice's Sudden Plan.

uncle, in a tone of unusual gravity. I fear she had rather a
hard time of it last winter. It will never do to let her live
alone in that house another winter. Some one must be found
to stay with her; but who that can be, is what puzzles me."
Suddenly there flashed upon the mind of Alice a plan to
meet this emergency, one that might help dear old Aunt Nancy
and some one else at the same time. It seemed so feasible
that even the thought of it lighted up her countenance with a
gleam of pleasure.
Then in rapid words Alice told the story of Mrs. Draper
and poor little Benny, and how the doctor had said that if the
boy could go into the country it might save him. She told
how patient and uncomplaining Mrs. Draper was, and how
devoted to her son, and then she unfolded the plan which had
so suddenly flashed upon her. She thought if Mrs. Draper
could live in Aunt Nancy's cottage, Benny might get well, and
be a joy and help to his fond mother all her remaining days.
Mrs. Draper could do the work for the Maysville people, which
Aunt Nancy was no longer able to do, and Aunt Nancy could
have some one to live with her, and see that she did not suffer
when the cold weather returned again.
When Alice had finished what she had to say, she waited
for her uncle to speak, but he was so busy with his own
thoughts that he still remained silent.
Now, uncle, I hope you will not call all this the romance
of a young, foolish girl, who knows nothing about practical life,"
Alice went on to say. "I will write to Mrs. Newman and see
what she thinks about it. She is very practical and judicious."
Would it not be better to consult Aunt Nancy first ? said
Mr. Ward, looking up with one of his arch smiles.
I dare say I have hold of the wrong end," said Alice,
laughing, "and if so, it's not the first time."
Well, I'll tell you bow we will manage it. You shall take

98 Aunt Nancy consents.

hold of one end of the business, and I of the other, and see if
we can meet in the middle. I will consult Aunt Nancy
myself. I think I can best manage this end. If she is in-
clined to favour the proposal, you can write to your city
friend and find out what she thinks of it."
The next morning Mr. Ward went to see Aunt Nancy, and
Alice eagerly awaited his return.
"What did she say ?" was her first eager question when her
uncle entered the house.
"I doubt if she thought favourably of it at first," said Mr.
Ward. "You know it would be a great change for her to take
in these strangers from the city. But when I told her of the
miserable city home, where not a breath of what we call pure
air was to be had, and of poor Benny, who was pining for it,
and his sad mother, who watched him wasting away month
after month, with the bitter thought that she could do nothing
for him, Aunt Nancy suddenly exclaimed, Who knows but
this may be the way in which God will provide for more than one
of His dear children ?' I do believe that she has already taken
poor Benny into her great loving heart. At all events, she is
quite willing that you should write to Mrs. Newman and see
what she thinks about it. Be sure you ask if she thinks Mrs.
Draper would be good and kind to Aunt Nancy."
Alice lost no time in writing this letter, and the answer, so
eagerly expected, was not long delayed. Better still, it proved
very satisfactory. Mrs. Newman wrote that she knew Mrs.
Draper well, and had confidence in her as an honest, kind, and
Christian woman. Mrs. Draper herself was ready to do any-
thing that might benefit her child, and Mrs. Newman, on her
part, offered to see everything arranged in the great city, and
Mrs. Draper and her boy placed in the train for Maysville, if
Mr. Ward would undertake the charge of them when they
reached that place.

Benny benefited. 99

Alice soon had the pleasure of seeing everything satisfac-
torily arranged. Before she left Maysville, Mrs. Draper and
Benny were nicely settled in Aunt Nancy's cottage, apparently
much to the satisfaction of all parties.
It did her heart good to see the boy sitting on the green
grass under the large oak, watching Aunt Nancy's hens and
chickens and enjoying all country sights and sounds. Her
uncle assured her that he had no doubt Benny would make a
stout boy yet, able to work on a farm, where a boy was much
needed, and in this way he would soon be a help to his mother.
On his own account he was very thankful that his sleep, the
next winter, would not be disturbed by the thought that Aunt
Nancy might be suffering through the long, cold nights, with
no one to care for her.



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

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