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HELPS 



Over Hard Places, 



STORIES FOR GIRLS. 



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AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

I50 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 
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TJiE r:;./ york 
PUBLIC LIBRARY 

46526A 

ASTOR. LENOX AND 

IILD2.N F >UNDATIONS 

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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year lafo, by 

TILE AMERICAN" TRACT SOCIETF, 

In tl.'j Clert's Office of the District Court for the District of MassachueettJ 






CONTENTS, 



FAGS 

INTRODUCTION, 5 

I. THE LITTLE SCHOOL-GIRL'S STORY, . . 9 

II. THE OLD CASTLE, 21 

III. PEXJE'S GOLDEN RULE, ........... 34 

IV. PRINCESS PEARLYPAT, 45 

V. OLD BARNEY'S MASK, 57 

VI. THE GARDEN OF THE BELOVED, .... CO 

VII. THE DANGEROUS DOOR, 71 

VIU. WALKING IN LOVE, 62 

IX. DREAMING SUSY, »3 

X. SUNSHINE AND TEARFUL, 101 

ui 



I? CONTENTS. 

FISI 

XI. JAMIE'S STRUGGLE, lofl 

XII. IN nONOR PREFERRING ONE ANOTHER, 118 

XIII. LITTLE CROSS-BEARERS, 126 

XIV. THE LITTLE riLGRIM, 130 

XV. THE LONG NIGHT, 13S 

XVI. " MORNING GLORY," 151 

XVII. .PLAIN LITTLE TATTY, 1G2 

KVIII. THE DREAM OF "GOLDEN HAIR,". . .170 

XIX. POOR BLACK VIOLET 173 

XX. WHAT IT COST, 1S1 

XXI. CHRISTIE BELL'S STOCKINGS, 192 

XXII. LITTLE CLARE, 201 

XXIII. KNOCKING AT THE DOOR OF HEAVEN, 208 

XXIV. "SEVEN TIMES,". 218 



INTRODUCTION. 



2o my (Dear Young- Friends, 

^he Girls. 

Dear little sisters, (for I hope we all belong to 
one family, with God for our Father and the Sav- 
iour for our dear Elder Brother,) I have something 
to say to you to-day. 

Perhaps some of you have lately read a book of 
your brother Tom's, or cousin Charley's, entitled, 
" Helps over Hard Places ; " and perhaps you have 
said, as you finished it, — 

"I wonder if nobody knows that girls are little 
pilgrims, too, and meet just as many swamps and 
lions as the boys ? I wonder if nobody thinks that 
our feet grow tired, and that we need a little help 
to climb some of our hills, which are just as big and 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

rough as the one that almost discouraged Dick Stc*« 
ling and Sam Hardy ? " 

Yes, little sisters, / know it, and I have "been 
thinking about you for a long time, as the little 
readers of the " Congregationalist " and " Child at 
Home " may have already suspected. I know you 
have a hard journey before you, and I now send 
you some friends to keep you company. 

" Flaxy," and " Prue," and " Princess Pearlypat," 
are each carrying a plank to help you over the 
worst swamps. " Dudley," " Fifine," and " Jamie," 
can tell you where the lions are, and can show you 
the best paths over the hills. If it should grow dark 
and cloudy during the day, do not be afraid of the 
showers. Little " Phebe " will tell you what to do 
when it rains. Somewhere on the road you may 
come across " Dreaming Susy," fast asleep among 
the great crimson poppy flowers of indolence and 
self-indulgence, and I'm afraid you will not be able 
to rouse her. Do not stay to look at her long, for 
you might grow sleepy yourself; and words can noi 
tell what a sad thing it is to dream one's life away. 



INTRODUCTION. VII 

Press on, dear little ones. Do not turn aside 
into the pleasant by-paths, no matter how rough 
the way may be. And if at last, in the twilight, 
you come into a strange, dim land, and begin to 
tremble a little at the shadows, you shall hear a 
sweet voice say, — " Fear not, little flock, for it is 
your Father's good pleasure to give you the king- 
dom." 

And if, still later, you come to a dark, cold river, 
and the worn little feet falter, and can not go any 
further, then will the Good Shepherd come, and ten- 
derly lifting all the tired lambs, he will carry them 

safe in his bosom. 

LP. 



HELPS OVEE HAED PLACES. 



i. 

THE LITTLE SCHOOL-GIRL'S STORY. 

As the old town clock was just upon the 
stroke of seven, one gray Saturday morning, 
from five or six different windows looked 
eight pairs of eyes, and accompanying each 
pair, in a direct line above the nose, lay two 
or three of the deepest, perpendicular wrin- 
kles, while eight small mouths fell away so 
suddenly at the corners, that a smile could 
never have got over without tripping. 

" Gray ! gray as a rat ! " cried Dick Bloom, 
turning from the window, and carving the 
three wrinkles deeper than ever on his nice 
white forehead. 

" It's another equinoctial, I know," sighed 
funny little Prue, who could not look cross, 



10 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

though she tried to show as many wrinkles 
as Dick. 

"I declare," said Flaxy Bell, parting the 
red curtains at the corner brick house, "I 
can hardly see two inches in this mist. One 
would think it was a grand washing-day, 
and every body's chimney was turned upside 
down, and smoking the wrong way." 

"No nutting to-day," called out Bernard 
Granville, from the green blinds across the 
street. 

But they were all mistaken. An hour 
passed on, and behold! down the gray 
dropped a little yellow thread of light, which 
grew till it was a great golden cord, strong 
enough to lilt the heavy gray curtain. The 
eager eyes could hardly believe it, but slowly, 
slowly, it was raised. Now they could see 
the old tree at the end of the meadow which 
had grown yellow, — the greedy old fellow, — 
from drinking so much sunlight all summer, 
and now they could see the crimson maples 
like gay soldiers on guard at the edge of the 
pine woods. Oh ! there was never any thing 
bo beautiful ! The sky changed by magic to 
the tenderest blue, and the watching eyes 
grew so soft and sunny, you would hardly 



THE SCHOOL- GIRLS STORY. 11 

have known them for the same. And so the 
nutting party came off, after all. But this 
isn't at all what I meant to tell you. I only 
meant to say that it was a very pleasant day; 
but then, after all, you would never have 
guessed just how pleasant it was, and I 
wanted you to know exactly how happy all 
these children felt. 

Well, I won't tell you much about the nut- 
ting. You can just imagine that all the baskets 
are very full, and that after they have made 
fires of dead leaves, and roasted some of their 
nuts, and done a variety of other things, they 
yet do not feel quite ready to go home. So 
they sit down on some nice, dry pine-needles 
on the western side of the wood, with the 
warm sun shining on the pretty plaid shawls 
and red caps, with the bright yellow and 
scarlet trees bowing around like so many 
great princes at some grand Eastern court, 
and begin to talk cosily together. 

" Let some one tell a story," cried Dudley 
Wylde. 

" Let's each tell one," said his pale cousin 
Bernard, "just as the people did in the stage- 
coach that Dickens once told about." 



12 HELPS OYER HARD PLACES. 

" Why, they all told their own story," said 
Madge Pattison. 

" Well, so can we, too," retorted Bernard. 

" I'm sure I haven't a word to tell," cried 
one. " Nor I," " Nor I," came from every side ; 
while Dudley Wylde exclaimed, "Nothing 
ever happened to me, but breakfast and din- 
ner, and going to school, and going to bed. 
Sometimes I have a good dinner, and some- 
times I don't, sometimes I know my lessons, 
and sometimes I don't; and that's all my 
story." 

" No, no ! " said Bernard, laughing. " I'm 
sure something has happened to every one 
of us, that would be very interesting if we 
would only think, and tell it as well as we 
could." 

" Tell it just like a book," asked little Dick 
Bloom, " with a nice little moral pinned ou 
to the end ? " 

" Oh, just as you please about that? said 
Bernard. " If the story-teller hasn't a moral 
handy, we'll each fit one to suit ourselves." 

"Agreed," cried they all. "Who shall 
beofin?" 

"Well," cried little Flaxy, — whose real 
oaiie was Mary, but who was always called 



tiie school- girl's stout. 13 

Flaxy because her hair was almost white, — 
" I believe Til begin, for I haven't a very good 
story to tell, and I'd like to have it over 
with." So she folded her little red shawl 
around her, and began. 

" Once, you know, before we moved into 
the village, we lived away up in the country, 
and the neighbors were almost as far from 
each other as from one end of the town to 
the other. Well, one night in December, — 
a dreary, windy night, — there came a boy 
for father and mother to go and see 'old 
Uncle Benny,' — he wasn't a real relation, 
you know, but a sort of every body's uncle. 
Well, the boy said Uncle Benny was dying, 
and wanted to see father and mother. So, of 
course, they bundled all up, and went. And 
when they kissed us good-night, said father : 
" ' Now, Flaxy, we will come back as soon 
as we can, but we may have to stay very 
late. If you would like to sit up, and keep 
Peggy company, you may, but Charley must 
go to bed. And Peggy must shut the win- 
dows, and put the bar to the door, and if any 
one comes, you must first ask who it is ; and 
you had better send all strangers on to the 
tivern, for it is only a little further ; and if 



1-4 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

you should happen to get a bad man in hero, 
I don't know what you and Peggy would do 
all alone.' 

" So I promised to do just as he said, and 
they both drove away. After they were 
gone, it was very lonely- Peggy barred the 
door, and we all went to sit in the kitchen. 
Charley begged to stay up a little while, and 
we sat on two little low stools, holding each 
other's hands, listening to the wind, and look- 
ing into the great fire, and watching the 
shadows that went bobbing around when the 
tallow candle flickered, and the wick grew 
long. Then once in a while Peggy told us a 
dreary story about evil spirits being out such 
nights as this; and though Charley and I 
knew that God is always near his children, 
and can take care of them, no matter how 
dark and dreadful the night, we could not 
help shuddering when the sleet dashed op 
against the panes, and we heard the wind 
screech and groan, just as if some one wag 
being murdered. We were just talking in a 
very low whisper about poor Uncle Benny, 
and how terrible it was to die in such a 
storm, when suddenly there came a loud 
knock at the door. It was so very sudden 



the s c ii o o l- girl's story. 15 

and loud that Ave all jumped, and Charley 
fairly fell off his stool. 

" < Who do you suppose it is, Peggy ? ' said 
I; hut Peggy covered her face with her 
apron, and rocked to and fro. So we were 
just as still as death for a few minutes, and 
then we heard something at the window. 

" < Oh ! what is it, Peggy ? ' said I again. 

"'Uncle Benny's ghost/' said Peggy, in 
an awful whisper, with her teeth all knocking 
together. 

" Charley caught my hand so tight that it 
hurt me, and for a minute I shook all over. 
Then I knew there were no such things as 
ghosts, for father and mother had told me so 
often; and when another knock came, 1 
went over quite boldly to the door. 'Who's 
there ? ' 'A poor man,' cried a shaky voice. 
% A poor man, who is almost dead with cold 
and hunger. Please, for the love of God, let 
him come in a minute to the fire.' 

"I was just going to open the door, when 
Peggy cried, in a great hurry, — 

" ' Remember what your father said, Miss 
Flaxy.' I was quite angry with her ; but I 
called through the door that he must go on 
to the tavern, which was very near. But ho 



16 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

begged so humbly just to come in and warm 
himself, ' only a minute, and then he would 
go right on,' that I was quite determined to 
let him. 

" ' Take down the bar, Peggy,' said I ; but 
she only said, 'Miss, you ought to mind your 
father.' 

"But I'm sorry to say," said Flaxy, with 
tears in her eyes, " that I wasn't at all obe- 
dient in those days. I was quite determined 
to have my own way ; for I was angry with 
Peggy ; and father was so kind that I thought 
I could soon make it all right with him when 
he came home. So, with very hot cheeks, I 
said, 'Peggy, you are hard-hearted, and a 
coward.' Then I began taking down the bar 
myself, though poor Charley kept begging, — 
1 Please don't, sister.' 

" To tell the truth, I was sorry the minute 
it was down, for I didn't like the man's looks 
at all, and I would have given the whole 
world if lie were only out of the kitchen, 
and the door all safely barred again. But I 
kept feeling worse and worse every minute ; 
for as soon as he grew warm, and looked 
around, and saw there was only Peggy and 
Chaviey and I, he grew very disagreeable 



THE SCHOOL-GIRL'S STORY. 17 

indeed, and ordered us to get some supper. 
the best we had in the house. He spoke so 
loud, and looked so fierce, that we all ran 
like so many slaves. He made Peggy cook 
ham, and fry eggs, and make the tea for him; 
and he ordered me to set the table, just as I 
Would for the king of England. 

"'Put on all your silver spoons and forks,' 
said he, 'for I always use a dozen at a time; 
and how do you dare bring on this old earthen 
sugar-bowl ? Haven't you a silver set ? ' 

" So, all in a tremble, I brought out dear 
mother's old-fashioned set, with the little 
carved angels, that used to be grandmother's. 
" Then Charley followed me into the pan- 
try, with great big eyes, and whispered, < Oh, 
sister! he's cramming his pockets with spoons 
and every thing.' 

" I never can tell you," cried Flaxy, the 
tears streaming down her cheeks, "how I felt 
then. To think that my disobedience was 
going to bring such sorrow on my darling 
lather and mother; and how did I know what 
the end might be ? Perb ips he would finish 
by murdering Charley and all of tis. I looked 
up at the clock. It was only nine, and father 
might not be back till midnight. So I win's- 

2 



18 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

pcred to Charley, ' Slip out of the back door, 
and run like lightning to neighbor Gaston's.' 

o o n 

" So dear, good Charley stole like a cat 
over the floor; but just as I thought he wag 
almost safe, the horrid man sprang and caught 
him, and almost shook the breath out of his 
body. 

"'There,' said he, 'if I catch you at that 
again, I wouldn't a bit mind roasting you on 
these coals.' 

" Poor Charley dropped down on his little 
stool, and never stirred again ; and I stole 
into the pantry to cry, and ask God to help 
me; though I didn't deserve it a bit, you 
know;" and Flaxy fairly broke down and 
sobbed, while several of the circle kept her 
company. 

" But all of a sudden," continued Flaxy, 
" a thought came into my head, and I won- 
dered it hadn't come sooner, why I couldn't 
climb out of the pantry window, and run 
myself to one of the neighbors. 

"No sooner said than done. I lifted the 
window, and dropped out as softly as a 
feather. Oh! howl did run. It was a ter- 
rible night, and I hadn't any bonnet or shawl, 
but I never thought any thing about it rtien. 



THE SCIIOOL-GIEl/3 STORY. 19 

[ hadn't gone far before I heard some people 
talking, and thought I saw a dim light; but 
while I was wondering where they all were, I 
ran right into somebody, and almost knocked 
liira over. 

K 'Hallo!' said he, 'just bring the lantern, 
Bob. I've stumbled into the queerest kind 
of a post;' and in another minute he said, 
1 1 declare, if it isn't little Flaxy Bell ! ' 

" And there, do you know, it was neigh- 
bor Gaston's two nice strong sons, and his 
hired man. I didn't have time to feel 
ashamed, then, but I just talked as fast as I 
could, and told every thing. 

" * Poor Flaxy ! ' said Ned Gaston, when I 
got through ; and, without asking my leave, 
he caught me right up in his arms, and then 
all three started to run for the house, as if it 
was the greatest fun in the world. 

" When we came into the garden, Phin- 
ney, the man, found some stout sticks, and 
.Ned took down Peggy's clothes-line, and 
then they all burst into the kitchen door, just 
as the robber had finished his supper, and 
was buttoning up his coat to go. lie was so 
taken by surprise that he didn't seem to think 
of defending himself; and in no time at all, 



20 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

they had him clown on his back with his bad 
hands and feet tied up tight with the old 
rope. Oh ! yon ought to have heard him beg 
them to let him go. I declare I almost felt 
sorry for him, especially when he said that he 
was only in joke, and didn't really mean to 
carry off the silver. But Ned only laughedj 
and Phinney harnessed up, and took him off to 
jail. Ned stayed till father and mother came 
home, and tried to comfort me ; but I couldn't 
rest till I had told the whole story. Then 
Ned tried to praise me, and tell father how 
Drove and self-possessed I had been ; but I 
couldn't bear to hear it; I could only think 
how terrible it might have been if God hadn't 
helped me, and I only wanted to hear father 
say, again and again, — ' I do certainly forgive 
you, Flaxy.' And since that time I do think 
I have always tried to be obedient." 

" And now," cried little Dick Bloom, jump- 
ing up, and falling over two or three baskets, 
"I propose, first, a vote of thanks to Flaxy. 
Second, that we repeat the fifth command- 
ment, 'all hands round;' and, third, that we 
start for home ' double quick,' or night will 
get there first." 



II. 

THE OLD CASTLE. 

How pleasant the parlor looked on the 
evening of " Flaxy's " birthday. To be sure 
it was November, and the wind was setting 
the poor dying leaves in a miserable shiver 
with some dreadful story of an iceberg he 
had just been visiting. But what cared Dicky 
and Prue, or Dudley and Flaxy, or all the 
rest, sitting cosily around that charming fire, 
which glowed as if some kind fairy had filled 
up the little black grate with carbuncles and 
rubies ? Over the mantle-piece were branches 
of pretty, white sperm candles, whose light 
fell softly on the heavy red curtains and the 
roses in the carpet, and danced in the eyes oi 
the happy children. 

They, the children, had been having a 
"splendid time." They had played games, 
and put together dissected maps, and tried 
puzzles, and read in Flaxy's wonderful books j 
and since tea they had had a grand romp at 

21 



22 I1ELPS OVER IIARD PLACES. 

"fox and geese," even such big boys as Ber* 
nnrcl and Dudley joining in ; and now they 
were resting, with pretty red cheeks and 
parted mouths. 

" Well, what shall we do now ? " cried little 
Prue, who could not bear that a minute of 
the precious time should be wasted in mero 
sitting still. 

"Why isn't it a good time for some one 
else to tell his story ? " asked Flaxy. 

"Just the thing," was the unanimous re- 
sponse. " Another story ! A story ! " and 
then a voice cried, "And let Dudley Wylde 
tell it." 

"Well," said Dudley, slowly, "if I must 
tell a true story about myself, I'm afraid it 
won't be much to my credit; but as Flaxy 
wasn't a coward about it, I'll try to be as 
brave as a girl. Shall I tell you something 
that happened to Bernard and me when wo 
lived over in England ? " 

"Oh, please don't tell that story, Dud," 
pleaded Bernard, with reddening cheeks; but 
all the rest cried, "Oh, yes; go on, go on;" 
and Dudley began. 

" You all know that Bernard and I were 
both left orphans when we were almost little 



THE OLD CASTLE. 23 

babies, and Uncle Wylde sent for us to come 
and live with him — me first, and Bernard 
about a year afterward. I was only six years 
old when Bernard came, but I remember 1 
was very angry about it. Old Joe, the coach- 
man, and I had had a quarrel that morning, 
and he told me ' uncle would never care for 
me any more after cousin Bernard came ; for 
he was a much finer boy than I, and looked 
like a young English lord, with his blue eyes 
and white skin ; but I was a little, dark, ill- 
tempered foreigner (my mother was an Ital- 
ian, you know), and he wondered how uncle 
could like me at all.' " 

"But uncle did love you dearly, you know," 
broke in Bernard. 

" A great deal better than I deserved, that's 
certain," said Dudley; "but I almost wor- 
shiped him, and I couldn't bear the thoughts 
of his loving any one better than me. So all 
the day that Bernard was expected I stood 
sulkily by the window, and would not play, 
nor eat, nor even speak when Uncle Wylde 
came and took me in his lap. 

"'Poor child,' said uncle, at last. 'He 
needs some one of his own age to play with. 



24 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

I Lope the little cousins will be fine company 
for each other.' 

"Just then the carriage drove up, and uncle 
ran out and took such a lovely little boy in 
his arms ; but when I heard him say, almost 
with a sob, ' Darling child, you are just the 
image of your dear, dear mother,' then I 
thought, ' There, it is all true what Joe said ; 
uncle loves him the best already ; ' and I bit 
my fingers, so that when uncle bade me hold 
out my hand to my cousin he was frightened 
to see it covered with blood, and drew back 
with a shiver; and then I grew angry about 
that, too, and called him *• proud? and went 
and hid away every plaything I could find. 

"Well, I won't have time to tell you every 
little thing; only that as Bernard and I grew 
up together, I did not love him any better. 
He was almost always kind and good." 

"Now, Dud, you must not say so," said 
Bernard, blushing. "I did every thing to 
tease you." 

"You must not interrupt," cried Dudley. 
"This is my story, remember. You never 
teased me much; but the great thing I 
couldn't forgive you for was that uncle loved 
you best." 



T II BOLD CASTLE. 25 

"No, I'm sure he didn't," cried Bernard. 

" No more interruptions," said all the chih 
dren ; and Dudley went on. 

" Well, you see I was very suspicious and 
miserable, and I always thought Bernard 
wanted to make fun of me. When he first 
began to call me ' Dud,' for short, I thought 
he meant that I was like the old rags that 
Joe used to clean the carriages with, for he 
always used to call them ' old duds.' And 
then sometimes, when I came in from riding 
on Lightfoot's bare back, with my hair blown 
every sort of a way, if he said, 'Shall we 
have our lessons now, uncle? Here comes 
Wylde? I always thought he was trying to 
make uncle think I was wild, like those hor- 
rid Indians we used to read about, while he, 
Bernard, was always neat and smooth, like a 
little gentleman. So you see there was noth- 
ing that Bernard could do or say that I did 
not twist around to make myself miserable. 

" One day, when I had been playing with 
my dog Sambo half the morning, and riding 
Lightfoot the rest of the time, I was called 
on to recite Latin to uncle, and didn't know 
one word. But Bernard recited like a book, 
and when it was over, uncle did not scold me, 



26 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

— be never did, — but just gave Bernard the 
pretty picture I had long been wanting, of 
the boy climbing up over crag and ice, shout- 
ing l Excelsior.' 

"That very afternoon we had planned to 
take a walk together to an old ruined castle ; 
but I was so cross and sullen I wonder Ber« 
nard did not slip away and go alone. I can't 
begin to tell you how envious and unhappy I 
felt ; and I quarreled so with him about every 
little thing, that at last he scarcely opened 
his mouth." 

"I don't believe the story is true," said 
Flaxy, indignantly. "I'm sure the Dudley 
Wylde we know was never so bad and quar- 
relsome." 

Dudley smiled, while Bettine whispered, 
softly, "But he's different now, Flaxy. Do 
you know his uncle says he is trying to be a 
Christian?'" 

Flaxy looked up, with a bright tear of sym- 
pathy, as Dudley continued: — 

"At last we reached the castle, where we 
had often been before, and for a while I was 
more good-natured ; for there was nothing I 
liked better than climbing up and down the 
broken stairway, which wound round and 



(THE OLD CASTLE. 27 

round like a great screw, or looking into 
every queer little room hid away in the thick 
walls, or climbing to the turrets to wave my 
handkerchief like the flag of a conquering 
hero. 

"But this afternoon there was something 
new to see. In the great hall, just under the 
stairs, the floor had lately caved away, and 
you could see down into a deep vault. Ber- 
nard and I lay down, with our faces just over 
the edge, and tried to see the bottom ; but it 
was dark as pitch, and we couldn't make out 
any thing. 

" ' I shouldn't wonder if they buried dead 
people there, a great while ago,' said Bernard, 
with a little shiver ; and when we both got 
up, feeling very sober, he said, just to raise 
our spirits, — 

" < Let's have a race up the steps, and see 
which will get to the roof first.' 

"Off we started. I could generally climb 
like a wildcat ; but in some way I stumbled 
and hurt my knee, and Bernard gained very 
fast. I felt my quick temper rising again. 

" ' Shall he beat me in every thing? ' I said 
to myself; and with a great spring I caught 
up to him, and seized his jacket. Then be- 



28 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

gan a struggle. Bernard cried l fair play,' 
and tried to throw me off; but I was very 
angry, and strong as a young tiger, and al] 
of a sudden — for I didn't know what I was 
about — I just flung him, with all my might, 
right over the edge, where the railing was 
half broken down." 

"Oh dear! Oh dear!" cried little Prue, 
bursting into tears, " did it kill him ? " 

A merry laugh from Bernard, followed by 
a hearty chorus from the rest, restored bewil- 
dered little Prue to her senses. But Dudley 
went on, very soberly : — 

"Bernard screamed as he went over, and 
with that scream all my anger died in a min- 
ute, and I sat down on the stairs, shaking 
from head to foot. Then I listened, but I 
didn't hear a sound. I don't know how long 
I sat there, but at last I got up very slowly and 
began to come down just like an old man. 
It was so dreadfully still in the old castle, 
that I felt, in a queer way, as if I must be 
very careful, too, and I stepped on my tip- 
toes, and held my breath. When I got to 
the foot, I felt as if a big hand held my heart 
ti^ht, and when I tried to walk towards tho 
spot where I thought Bernard must have fkl- 



THE OLD CASTLE. 29 

Ien, I could not move a step. But after a 
great while, — it seemed like a year, — I man- 
aged to drag myself to the place, and, do you 
know, no one was there ! " 

"Why, where could he be?" cried the as- 
tonished children. 

"Well, I thought he might have fallen, 
and rolled off under the stairs into that 
dreadful vault." 

" Oh, don't have him get in tJiere, please," 
cried tender little Prue. 

"Then," said Dudley, slowly, "I leaned 
over the vault, and called his name, 'Ber- 
nard! Bernard!' and then I jumped back 
and almost screamed, for I thought some 
other boy had spoken. I did not know my 
own voice, it sounded so strange and solemn. 
But no one answered, and I dragged myself 
away, feeling as if that awful hand grew 
tighter on my heart, and thinking, as I went 
out of the door, how two of us went in, and 
why I was coming out alone. Then I sat 
down on the grass, and, though it was warm 
summer weather, I shivered from head to 
foot ; and I remember thinking to myself, 
'This queer boy sitting here isn't Dudley 
Wylde ; this boy couldrCt get angry; he's as 



80 HELPS OVER HARD PLACfcd. 

cold as an icicle, and Dudley Wylde's hes*rt 
used to beat, beat, oh ! so lively and quick ; 
but this boy's heart is under a great weight, 
and will never stir again ; this boy will never 
run again, nor laugh, nor care for any thing ; 
this boy isn't, he can't be Dudley Wylde ; ' 
and I felt so sorry for him I almost cried. 
Then, all of a sudden, I remember I began 
to work very hard. I picked up stones out 
of the path, and carried them a great way 
off, and worked till I was just ready to drop. 
Then I took some flowers, and picked them 
all to pieces, so curious to see how they 
were put together, and I worked at that till 
I was nearly wild with headache. Then I 
sat very still, and wondered if that boy who 
wasn't, couldn't be Dudley Wylde, was ever 
going home ; and then I thought that per- 
haps if he sat there a little while longer he 
would die, and that was the best thing that 
could happen to him ; for then he would 
never hear any one say, — 'Where is Ber- 
nard?'' So I sat there, in this queer way, 
waiting for the boy to die, when I heard a 
noise, and, looking up, saw " — 

"Oh, what?" cried little Prue, clasping 
her hands, — "a griffir, with claws?" 



THE OLD CASTLE. 31 

But Dudley could not speak, anl Bernard 
went on: "It's too bad for 'Dud' to tell that 
story, when he makes himself so much worse 
than he really was. I was as much to blame 
as he in that quarrel, and I ought to have 
had my share of the misery. You see, when 
he threw me over, my jacket caught on the 
rough edge of the railing, and held me just a 
minute ; but that minute saved me, for in 
some way, I hardly know how, I swung in, 
and dropped safely on the steps just under 
'Dud.' Then I hurried into one of those 
queer little places in the wall, and hid, for I 
was angry, and meant to give him a good 
fright ; and as I happened to have a little 
book in my pocket, I began to read, and got 
so interested that I forgot every thing till it 
began to grow dark. Then I hurried down, 
wondering that every thing was so still. But 
when I saw 'Dud,'" said he, turning with 
an affectionate glance to his cousin, " 1 
was frightened ; for he was so changed I 
hardly knew him, and I was afraid he was 
dying. So I ran to him, and took him right 
in my •arms, and called him every dear 
name I could think of; but he only stared at 
me, with the biggest, wildest eyes you ever 



32 HELPS OVER II A It X) PLACES. 

saw. ' Dud,' said I, ' dear old fellow, what is 
the matter? don't you know me?' Then all 
of a sudden ho burst out crying. Oh, girls, 
you never cried like that, and I hope you 
never will — great, big sobs, and I helped 
dim. Then he flung his arms tight around 
my neck, and kissed me for the first time in 
his life — kissed me over and over, my cheeks 
and my hair and my hands ; and then he 
laughed, and, right in the midst, cried as if 
his heart would break, and I began to under- 
stand that poor 'Dud' thought he had killed 
me. Iso one knows how long we laughed 
and cried and kissed each other; but, when 
we grew a little calmer, we went back into 
the old castle, and on the very steps where 
we had our quarrel we knelt down, holding 
each other's hands, and promised always to 
love each other, and try to keep down oui 
wicked tempers." 

"And we asked some one to help us keep 
the resolution," said Dudley, gently. 

"Well, how is it?" said little Prue, with 
a bewildered air. "Was it you and ' DutV 
that went and knelt on the steps to pray?" 

"Yes, 'Dud' and I." 

"Well, then, what became of that other 



THE OLD CASTLE. 33 

wicked boy that wasn't Dudley Wylde at 
all?" 

Another shout covered poor Prue with con- 
fusion, as Bernard answered, — 

"Would you believe it, you dear little 
Prue, we have never seen any thing of him 
(torn that day to this." 



III. 

TREE'S GOLDEN RULE. 

They had been skating all the afternoon, 
boys and girls together, on the great pond 
back of the village, and had the " greatest 
fun," as even little Prue would have told you, 
although there hadn't been five minutes of 
the whole time when her head and feet 
hadn't been contending as to which should 
be uppermost. But now, just at dark, they 
were all gathered together warming them- 
selves around the great lire in Flaxy's com- 
fortable kitchen, and Flaxy's kind mother had 
asked them all to stay to tea. Now, while 
they were waiting for the nice short-cake to 
get quite brown, Dick Bloom suddenly cried— 

" How long it is since we have had a story ! 
Isn't there time to tell one before tea? " 

This suggestion met with the usual im- 
mense favor, and there were various cries for 
Madge, Bcttine, and Bernard. But at the 
first pause little Prue broke in, — 



frue's golden rule. 35 

"I think some one might ask me to tell a 
Btory." 

"Don't be a goose, Prue!" cried Dick, in 
the complimentary style brothers use to their 
sisters. 

But Bernard said, "I vote for little Prue. 
If she has a story to tell, let us hear it by all 
means." 

" Well, I can tell a story," said Prue, with 
a slightly offended air, " all about myself, and 
I won't get it mixed up with another girl that 
icas me, and wasn't either." 

"Good!" cried Dudley, joining in the 
laugh at his expense. " Go on, little one. 
We are all ears, as a highly respectable ani- 
mal once remarked. Come sit on my lap and 
tell your story." 

"You didn't sit on mine when you told 
yours, did you?" asked Prue with dignity. 

" No ; that's a clincher, you terribly sharp 
little Prue!" said Dudley, with a comical, 
crest-fallen air, and little Prue, smoothing her 
apron, began her story. 

" I suppose I must tell something true about 
myself, and just as bad as it can be." 

"Yes; that seems to be the fashion," said 
Dudley; * but I'm almost afraid to hear u a 



86 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

worst about you. Suppose you give us the 
next worse." 

But Prue, disdaining the interruption, went 
bravely on. " You all know wlien I went to 
visit Uncle Seymour last fall ? " 

"Oh, yes," said Bernard; "we were per- 
fectly inconsolable." 

"Well, perhaps you didn't know that I had 
a cousin there, a little bit older than Dick, 
and just the greatest tease in all the world. 
Indeed," said little Prue, with a confidential 
air, "I don't think he always did quite right. 
I remember the very first day I got there, and 
unpacked my three dolls, he made believe he 
thought they were beautiful, and that he 
loved 'cm just as well as I did, and after- 
wards, when I was ' playing church ' with 'em, 
he got me to baptize (a very wrong and 
wicked thing for any child to do, at least after 
he is told better, as we have no right to 
'play' such a sacred thing as that) all the 
poor things in a pail of water, and then, do 
you know, their pretty red cheeks all ran in 
streaks, and ore had her eyes washed out, so 
that I've had to call her ' blind Jenny ' ever 
since. I felt very bad about this, but I tried 
not to be angry, and we got along pretty 



prue's golden rule. 37 

pleasantly together, till one day uncle brought 
tnc two beautiful little kittens, one white and 
one black, and I used to call the black one 
Jeff Davis, and the w T hite one McClellan. 
You. never saw such cunning kittens. They 
would set up their little round backs, and 
curl their funny little tails, and make a great 
scamper for the other side of the room, roll 
ing over and over each other like soft little 
balls. Well, just about this time, Joe — that 
was his name — was very busy making a little 
painting. You see, he was very fond of draw- 
ing, and just with a piece of charcoal he 
could make two or three little scratches on 
the garden fence, and there would be a horse, 
or a cow, or, may be, a great hungry lion, just 
ready to roar. Well, uncle was so proud of 
Joe, and Joe was so glad to have him proud, 
that he was making a lovely little picture all 
secret up in his room, and he meant to give 
it to uncle on his birthday. He worked very 
hard on it, but just the day before the birth- 
day, when it wasn't quite finished, uncle sent 
him on an errand way out in the country, so 
he'd have to be gone almost all day. Poor 
Joe! 

« t No^y I can't finish it any way,' said he 



38 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

to me when he went out of the door ; ' and it 
was all done except a little piece of the 
ground, and one wash over the sky to make it 
look a little more like a sunset.' 

" Then he bit his lip, and went away, and 
I felt so sorry for him. After a while, I went 
up to his room, and took out the picture. It 
did seem too bad that he had to leave it, and 
I couldn't help thinking how pleased he would 
be if he could come home and find it all 
done. Then I thought of the « golden rule,' 
' Do unto others as you would that they 
should do to you;' and though I was half 
crazy to play with 'Mac' and 'Jeff' I just 
took out the box of colors, and made up my 
mind to finish the picture." 

" Oh, Prue ! How could you ? " groaned 
Dick, while Bernard and Dudley choked be- 
hind their handkerchiefs. 

" Well, it was hard," said little Prue com- 
placently, " but I put Jeif and Mac out of 
the room, and painted as hard as ever I could 
almost all day, and I made a lovely red cloud 
\n the sky, and the grass was the brightest 
green." 

" The kindest little Prue ! " murmured Ber- 
narl, in a smothered voice. 



PRUES GOLDEN RULE. o'J 

"Weil, now, would you believe it," said 
Prue, with a troubled air, " when Joe came 
home, and saw it, instead of being pleased, 
lie stamped his feet, and tore the picture right 
in two, and was so very angry, that I went 
away and cried till I thought my heart was 
broken. I never could tell the reason why 
he acted so." 

"I can't imngine, I'm sure," said Dudley. 

"But he felt very sorry afterwards," con- 
tinued little Prue, " and we kissed and made 
up, and then he began to paint another pic- 
ture, and told me not to toucli it, because he 
wanted it to be all his own. But now comes 
the saddest part of the story." 

Bernard and Dudley drew their handker- 
chiefs with anxious, lengthening faces. 

" One day, while Joe was painting, he was 
called away in a great hurry, and he just left 
every thing careless on the table. How it all 
happened I don't know, but I suppose first 
the wind blew the paper oif the table, and 
the next thing I knew, there was Jeff and 
Mac dragging the picture around, biting il 
with their sharp teeth, and scratching it with 
their claws. I chased after, and got it just 
as quick as I could, and just then Joe came 



40 IIELP3 OVER HARD PLACES. 

up with a great cry, and said it was all ruined 
and spoiled. I couldn't begin to tell you how 
mad he was then. He said he just hated me 
and my two horrid little kittens, and then he 
slammed the door, and I didn't see him again 
that, nisrht. 

"You may know I scolded 'Mac' and 
1 Jeff' well, and tied their fore-paws together, 
to punish 'em. But they didn't seem to mind 
it at all, and in a few minutes they had slip- 
ped off the string, and were chafing each 
other's tails just as gay as ever. Poor little 
kittens ! I don't believe they knew any better. 
But the next morning when I woke up," said 
Prue, with a little tremble in her voice, " what 
do you think I saw hanging from the tree 
right in front of the window ? " 

" An apple ! " suggested Dick, triumphantly. 

" ISTo," said Prue, with a mournful shake, " it 
was my two precious little kittens, hung up 
by their necks, every bit dead ! " 

"Now that was too bad," cried all the chil- 
dren together. "What did you do?" 

" Why, first 1 cried, you know, — I had to ; 
and then I staid up in mother's room, and 
let all my dolls have the measles but I 
couldn't forget it all I could do ; an«? when I 



prue's golden rule. 41 

came down stairs, just before ten, and saw 
Joe lying aleep on the sofa, I felt so angry, 
Oh, 50 angry, that I thought I should like to 
choke him just as he did poor little 'Mac' 
and 'Jeff.' So I went and got the string I 
played ' cat's cradle ' with, and put it softly 
around his neck." 

" Oh, you dreadful little Prue," cried Ber- 
nard, clasping his hands ; " don't tell us you 
really meant to kill him ! " 

"I don't quite remember," said innocent 
little Prue, " but I think I did. I think I felt 
a good deal like that boy that wasn't Dudley 
Wylde." 

" Who ever would have thought it ? " ejac- 
ulated Bernard. 

" Now, Prue, that's a likely story," cried 
Dick. " You kill him ! why, you cried like 
a baby when little Tom only pulled the wings 
off a fly." 

But little Prue quite insisted that she was 
very bad, only admitting that perhaps she 
wouldn't have killed him, if she found it was 
going to hurt him very much. 

"Well, what happened next?" asked 
Flaxy. 

" Well, you know he woke up all of a sud- 



42 IIELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

den, and caught my hands, and when he 
fourd I was going to kill him, he was so 
frightened that he shook all over, and run his 
head into the sofo cushion, and then he got 
right down on his knees, and asked my par- 
don, and begged me not to do it, and — well, 
I was so sorry to see him so frightened that I 
couldn't help forgiving him, and telling him 
I would never kill him again as long an he 
lived. Then I ran away by myself, and felt 
so very bad to think I had been so wicked, 
that I thought I could never be happy again 
till I had done something kind for Joe. I 
tried ever so long to think what would please 
me most, if Zwas going to have a present, 
and once I had about made up my mind to 
dress my biggest doll, Victoria, in her best 
clothes, and give her to Joe. Then I thought 
some way there seemed to be something 
wrong about the ' golden rule,' the last time 
I tried it with Joe, and I didn't at all know 
what to do, till all of a sudden I remembered 
that grandpa gave me half a dollar when I 
came from home, so I got it, and ran down 
street as fast as I could go, and bought Joe 
a splendid knife, with six blades." 



pbue's golden rule, 43 

" The darlirgest little Prue," murmured 
Bernard. 

" Well, you never saw any one so glad as 
Joe was. He kissed the knife, and he kissed 
me, and I almost thought he was going to 
cry. I hadn't the least idea he wanted a knife 
so much. Then he said something queer 
about that I ' had killed something, if I hadn't 
killed him ; and he was going to try to be 
like me ^ and I said, ' Oh, no ! I'd a great deal 
rather you'd stay a bog.'' Then he laughed, 
and kissed me again, and ever since we've 
been just the best of friends, and Christinas 
he sent me the loveliest book, and in it was 
— ' For dear little Prue. Of such is the 
kingdom of heaven,' — though I'm sure I 
don't know what he put that verse in for. 
He must have known that I learned it ever 
so long ago. Now that's all the story," said 
little Prue, complacently. " Wasn't it just 
as good as anybody's?" 

" Yes, a good story," said Dudley, gravely, 
" but I'm afraid it'll have a bad tendency. I 
can't see a moral anywhere; and I've got so 
confused, since I sat here, I'm afraid I shall 
be terribly suspicious of the 'golden rule' all 
the rest cf my life." 



44 IIELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

"Dear me," said little Prue, with a quiver- 
ing lip, " I didn't mean to be so bad. Can't 
any one fix on a moral ? " 

« Yes, Moppet," said Dick, « I'll do it. If 
you're angry with any one, instead of killing 
him, it's better to buy him a jack-knife, and 
then he'll live, and send you a ' lovely book * 
at Christmas." 

Prue looked troubled. 

" Never mind, darling," whispered Bernard, 
" it's a dear little story, and I'm sure I think 
more of the c golden rule ' than I ever did in 
my life." 

" Come, children, tea is all ready," cried a 
pleasant voice from the dining-room; and 
little Prue, greatly comforted, rode in trium- 
phantly upon Bernard's shoulder. 




Helps for Girls. Page 45 



IV. 

PRINCESS PEARLYPAT; 

OR, REMEMBER THE SABBATH DAY TO KEEP IT KOLT. 

Little Prue had been very sick, but had 
so far recovered as to sit up in the big arm- 
chair — wrapped in so many blankets that 
she looked like a quaint little mummy — 
and receive the visits of her friends. So one 
bright afternoon they came in a flock, each 
kind hand bringing a present to make rosy 
pleasure dance in the little pale cheeks. 
Madge had an orange, Bernard a bunch of 
hot-house grapes, Flaxy a wonderful "pic- 
ture-book," Bettine a kitten as handsome as 
if Hermann had rubbed "Mac" and "Jeff" 
into one, and finally, teasing Dudley, after 
looking over all the room, and pretending as 
great surprise at discovering Prue in the 
blankets as if she had been a needle in a hay- 
stack, drew up his chair, and whispered con* 
(identially, — 

45 



4G HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

"You see, 'Dot,' I've been hard at work at 
the 'golden rule' ever since I heard your 
story, and to-day there is such a splendid 
wind, I couldn't think of any thing that 
would please me better than a magnificent 
kite, with no end of tail, so I've bought you 
one, though it has stripped me of my last 
cent. See, here it is; and if you don't think 
the tail is long enough, I've got Seward's cor- 
respondence on the Mason and Slidell affair, 
and we'll just make it up into tags, and then 
I guess we can back that tail, for length, 
against the world." 

Poor Prue tried to be grateful, but looked 
very blank. 

"There, you don't like it!" said Dudley, 
with an air of immense disappointment. 
"Didn't you say that we ought to do to oth- 
ers as" — 

" Yes," said little Prue, hesitating ; " and 
you're very good to me ; but you see little 
girls don't fly kites much, and the next time 
you give me any thing I'd rather you'd do 
unto me as you would like to have me do 
unto you, if you was me? 

"Good!" said Dudley; "I just begin to 
gee it." . 



PRINCESS PSAKLYl'AT. 47 

"Come," said Bernard, " you are taking up 
too much time. Remember that 'Princess 
Pearlypat ' is going to tell little Prue a story." 

" Oh, how nice ! " cried Prue, clapping her 
little thin hands. 

"Wait a minute," said Dudley, fumbling 
in his pocket ; " here's a doll that old Penny- 
man on the corner persuaded me to buy, but 
I'm sure I don't know what to do with it, un- 
less the housekeej)er can melt up this head to 
wax her linen thread, and perhaps stuff a pin- 
cushion with these fussy yellow curls." 

Little Prue uttered an exclamation of dis- 
may at such a fate for those lovely pink 
cheeks and golden ringlets, and involuntarily 
stretched out her hands. 

" Oh, would you care for it ? " said Dudley, 
in great surprise. " Who would have thought 
it ? You are very kind to take it off my hands. 
What a good little Prue you always were. 
Now don't do it just to oblige me." 

Dear simple little Prue assured him that it 
wouldn't trouble her in the least to take care 
of the doll, and Dudley, professing great relief, 
turned to blushing Bettine, alias " Princess 
Peailypat," who was chosen orator for tha 
occasion. 



48 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

" In the first place," began Bettine, " yon 
must know that my big brother Frank called 
me Princess Pearlypat, because I was like the 
princess in a funny old German story, whose 
hair was so bright and yellow that it looked 
like a crown of gold. I wouldn't tell you this, 
OJily that at the time of my story nobody 
called me by any other name. A great many 
years ago, when I was quite a little girl," — 

"How many?" asked Dudley. 

" Well," said Bettine, considering and col- 
oring a little, " about three. I was standing 
one Saturday night out by the gate, not feel- 
ing good-natured at all. You see I had ex- 
pected to spend all that day picnicking in 
the woods, and instead I had just sat by the 
play-room window, and seen it pour, pour, 
pour, from morning till night. This was very 
hard, and now, just at sunset, when it was 
too late, the clouds all rolled away in a most 
provoking manner, and, as I stood at the 
gate, all the west grew like a great crimson 
sea, the trees were all over diamonds, and 
you would have thought the birds were just 
going crazy. But I was very angry. 'It's 
all very nice for you, Mrs. Robin,' I said, 
4 who don't study fractions and geography 



PRINCESS PEAELYPAT. 49 

from Monday till Friday, and go to church 
all day Sunday. You needn't feel a bit 
disappointed about the rain, when you can 
be playing about all day to-morrow, while J 
sit cooped up in that high-backed pew with 
old Miss Prim's big black bonnet bobbing 
before me.' 

"Just then, Paul Peyser came along. You 
remember Paul, and what great friends we 
used to be. He's gone away to school now. 
Well, Paul and I had a long talk over our 
grievances and disappointments. l It will be 
a splendid day to-morrow,' said Paul, at last. 
4 It will be too bad for you to be perched up 
all day behind Miss Prim's bonnet.' 

" ' I hate Miss Prim,' said I, feeling that I 
must be angry with somebody. 

" ' Yes,' said Paul, ' I don't care if she is a 
member of the church and going to be an 
angel some day, she isn't n^ar as pretty to 
look at as a weed.' 

" Then we both laughed at good old Miss 
Prim, and after a little more talk together, 
we formed a very bad plan, as you will see 
as I go on with my story. I must say I felt 
rather uneasy about it, after I went into the 
bou?e, and the next morning, when I told 



50 HELPS OVER IIARD PLACES 

mother that my head ached, so that I did not 
feel like going to church, it was not quite a 
story, for I had been tossing and rest 1 . ess all 
night, and my head was very hot. So my 
kind, mother bathed my forehead and dark, 
cned the room, and, leaving me on the sofa, 
told me to keep very still till she came home. 
She was hardly out of the house, before Paul's 
round face looked in at the window. 

" ' Oh, you're there, are you, Princess ? all 
right! Come on! Such a time as I had, 
though ! I was such a fool as to play sick be- 
fore breakfast, and I declare they didn't let 
me eat enough to keep a horn-bug alive. 
Come ; what are you waiting for?' 

"'I'm afraid it isn't right to spend the holy 
Sabbath in the woods.' 

" ' There, I might have known you'd back 
out, girl-baby ! ' said he, scornfully, and then 
lie changed his tone. ' Come, Pearlypat, 
that's a brave girl ! I've got the dearest little 
cave to show you. I was the Columbus, and 
found it all myself, but I'll tell you the secret, 
and no one else shall know. Won't it be fun 
to hide there some time? It's a little place. 
I'm going to call it 'the Princess* Thimble,' 
or 'Pcarlyp it's Cradle,' or whatever you like. 



PRINCESS PLVKLYPAT. 51 

Come ; we won't be gone but an hour. Let 
me tie on your highness' sun-bonnet ; ' and so 
Borne way, I hardly know how, he coaxed me 
out over the soft green fields into the woods. 
It was the loveliest morning I ever knew, 
and now that the church bells had stopped, 
there wasn't a sound except the birds, and 
those dear little noises of bees, and lazy, sleepy 
flies. I thought how very good God was to 
make every thing so beautiful, and when, as 
we struck into the mossy, shady path, Paul 
quoted from the piece he used to speak Fri- 
day afternoons, ' The groves were God's first 
temples,' I began to think we were not doing 
any thing so very wrong, after all. Why 
couldn't we be just as good out there in the 
dear old woods, as sitting bolt upright in the 
little brick church ? 

" ' Let's try and be good out in these " first 
temples," Paul,' said I. ' Let's each say the 
verse we learned this morning. 

" * Oh, I was too sick to learn any,' said 
Paul, with his gay laugh. 'What's yours, 
Princess ? ' 

"'Like as a father piticth his children, so 
the Lord pitieth them that fear him ; for he 



OS HELPS OVER HA ED PLACES. 

knowetli our frame, — he remernbereth that 
we are dust.' 

" c That's a great verse for us, Pearlypat, 1 
said Paul. 'I never thought of it just so be- 
fore. Don't you see, if we're doing wrong 
to-day, God won't be very angry with us. 
We won't be expected to act just like angels. 
Don't you see he'll just remember that we're 
dust?' 

" I knew there was something wrong about 
this ; and I had a sort of dim idea that we 
ought to be very thankful if God remembered 
this when we were trying to do our very 
best. But I didn't know just what to say, 
and so we went on, and pretty soon we for- 
got all about verses and Sunday. We sailed 
boats in the brook and had a little feast in the 
cave, and finally began to play * catch ; ' and 
while I was chasing him very hard through 
the woods, where there wasn't any path, I 
saw Paul suddenly throw up his hands, then 
he gave a little cry, and there was the last of 
him. I came after rather more slowly you 
may be sure, and found that in our play we 
had come right upon the edge of the ravine, 
and looking over, I saw that Paul had only 



PRINCESS PEARLY PAT. 53 

fallen a little way, and was holding on to a 
twig. 

" ' Ah, Pearlypat,' said he, laughing, — foi I 
believe he would laugh if he were going to 
be hung, — ' you see the wood-spirits are 
dragging me down ; but just reach me youi 
hand, and I'll be up in a minute.' 

" So I took hold of a little bush, and leaned 
over, and he caught my hand, and struggled 
up, but just at the worst minute my bush 
gave way, over I tumbled, and Paul after me, 
over and over. I quite lost my breath, and 
was so stunned with hitting my head against 
stones, that I didn't know any thing for a 
long time. At last I heard Paul laugh ; he 
always laughed, though this time he groaned 
the minute after. 

" ' Well, Princess,' said he, ' how do you 
like playing avalanche f ' 

" ' It's poor fun,' said I, trying to sit up, but 
feeling so sore all over that I burst out crying 

'"Nonsense, Pearlypat,' said Paul, dragging 
himself up to me, and smoothing my hand; 
1 I've either sprained or broken my foot, so I 
can't walk, but you see some one will come 
to find us before long, and they'll carry us 
homo on rose-leaves. No one will think of 



54 HELPS OYER HA ED PLACES. 

scolding us, when they find we're hurt, 'but 
we'll be petted, and have all kinds of nice 
things to cat, and won't go to school for a 
week.' 

"But as the hours passed away, and no 
help came, matters began to look pretty se- 
rious. Once we thought we heard steps in 
the woods above, and cried with all our 
might, but we were so far from the road that 
no one thought of looking for us in that dark 
ravine. 

" Oh, how many times during the day I 
would have given any thing in the world to 
have been sitting in my clean white dress 
behind Miss Prim's black bonnet. But the 
day wore on, and when the sunset burned so 
fierce and red behind the solemn old pines, 
I felt as if God was very angry with us. 

" ' What do you think of my verse now, 
Paul?' said I. 'I'm afraid we'll have to stay 
here all night. Do you think God will re« 
member that we are dust f ' 

" * I'm afraid he doesn't remember any thing 
else,' said Paul, with a doleful shake of the 
head. ' I'm afraid he thinks we might just as 
well lie here a year or two, as those little 
lumps of clay there.' 



PRINCESS PEARLY PAT. 55 

" Then, as it was pretty dark, I'm quite 
sure Paul laughed a little the wrong side of 
his mouth, though he made all manner of fun 
of me, and said they wouldn't need any more 
rain in the ravine all summer. 

"I don't remember much after that, only 
that Paul made me lay my head on his shoul- 
der, and I went half asleep, though I always 
kept dreaming I was an avalanche, and would 
wake up with a great jump and a sob. 

" All of a sudden, when the stars had been 
out more than an hour, Paul started up witli 
a cry, and I thought we had fallen into the 
hands of the Indians, there was such a scream- 
ing and halloing, and great red torches that 
flared till all the trees seemed dancing like 
mad. I thought I must die then to be so***, 
and, shutting my eyes, I began to say my 
prayers just as fast as I could, < Now I lay 
me down to sleep,' when somebody caught 
me right up in his arms, and I heard dear 
Frank say, almost sobbing, ' She is alive, dear 
little Pearlypat ! ' and he kissed me over and 
over. 

"I was very sick for a long time, but every 
body was a great deal kinder than I deserved. 
I remember that good Miss Prim used to rub 



56 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

my aching limbs, and carry me about eveiy 
day, till I could quite cry for shame, to think 
we had said she was uglier than a weed. 

" No one ever said a word to me about how 
naughty I had been, only one day Frank said, 
very softly, ' I used to hope dear little Pearly- 
pat was one of God's children ; ' but I couldn't 
answer a word, so he said, 'Does my little 
Princess know that she must act very differ- 
ently if the great King ever calls her to be a 
princess in the other world ? ' 

" I didn't say any thing, but Frank knew I 
was thinking a great deal, so he kissed me, 
and went away. 

" That same day Paul came to see me, look- 
ing rather pale. 'I've had a pretty tough 
time, Pearlypat,' said he, laughing, of course, 
* out I wasn't too sick to learn a verse,' and 
then he grew quite sober, — 'Remember the 
Sabbath day to keep it holy.' M 



OLD BARNEYS MASK. 

All the highway grew dim in the twilight, 
The robins at vespers crooned low ; 

On the little brown gate of the garden 
Swung Eric and Maud to and fro; 

While adown the dim road, in the twilight, 
Gleamed Barney's old head crowned with 
snow. 

"Here he comes, the old scarecrow," laughed 
Eric ; 
"How queerly he dips that lame leg; 
What a face — just one tangle of wrinkles ; 

And look at those goggles, I beg. 
Here he comes ! See his head where he wipes 
it — 
It's smoother than Speckle's last egg. 

"Ah, he's speaking. What is it? Some 
water ? 
Oh, yes, there's the cup on the shelf. 

57 



58 HELPS OVEE HARD PLACES. 

I would run if you asked mo, sweet Red-lips, 

But he's such a crooked old elf, 
Let him stumble and crawl to the well there, 

And drag up the bucket himself. 

" Sec his hands, how they're shaking ! Why, 
Blue-eyes, 

I hope you're not going to cry ; 
'You're so sorry?'— why, yes, it is shameful; 

The old bag of bones ought to die. 
Only young people ought to be living, 

As pretty as you, dear, and I." 

Then his scornful eyes swept after Barney; 

But ah ! what a marvel was there. 
'Twas an hour since the sunset had faded, 

And yet all the tremulous air 
Streamed in glory, as if, down the twilight, 

A seraph had loosed his bright hair. 

And oh ! what was that beautiful presence 
That stood in the cloud's rosy fold? 

Cried a voice, "Dearest child, 'tis old Barney ; 
For, lying so oft, lame and old, 

At the beautiful gate of the temple, 
His 60id has grown fairer than gold." 



old barney's mask. 50 

In the saddest amazement stood Eric, 
And stretched forth his hands, full of pain ; 

But the vision grew dim, and through twi- 
light, 
He saw but the bucket's rough chain, 

O'er whose links little Maud's rosy lingers 
And Barney's tired hands tugged in vain. 

Full of shame sprang young Eric beside 
them, 
His eager hands bent to the task, 
While he whispered, " Sweet Maud, I've a 
secret 
I hardly dare tell if you ask ; 
Do you know the real Barney's an angel, 
Hid under that wrinkled old mask ? " 

In sweet reverence Maud knelt before him, 
With tears in her eyes' wishful blue, 

Pleading, " Pray for us, pray for us, Barney, 
That we grow as lovely as you ; 

&q that God, looking 'neath our youth's lose 6 ?, 
May find angels hiding there too." 



VI. 

TIIE GARDEN OF THE BELOVED. 

" Tiieee, now you've done it," cried John 
Cramer to his twin brother Cornelius, as he 
arrived breathless at the garden gate. " You 
weren't fair a bit in that race, and you ran 
twice right over Pbebe's flower-bed, and took 
the heads off her very best tulips. Oh ! won't 
she be mad ? and here she comes this very 
minute to look at them ! " 

" That's a fact," said Cornelius, " and I may 
as well walk right up and ' face the music,' 
and have it over with; " and he went slowly 
up to Phebe, who was bending in sorrowful 
surprise over her little tribe of tulips that had 
been so remorselessly scalped. 

" Yes, I did it," said Cornelius, in dogged 
response to her look of mute inquiry. " There 
now, how angry you arc. You pretend to be 
good, and you're not a bit like that girl in 
the memoir of ' Good Little Jane.' She would 
have said right away, ' Oh, if any one'* 

GO 



THE GARDEN OF THE BELOVED. Gl 

flowers are spoiled, I Lope they are mine] and 
she would have been so glad that they were 
not her brother's, that she would have been 
happy as a queen. But you are so selfish, I 
do believe you are going to cry. You ought 
to have been called April — it's just shower, 
shower, shower all the time. Yes, here it 
comes," said he, as two white clouds, with 
heavy fringes, swept down over those little 
samples of blue sky, commonly called Phebe's 
eyes. " April showers ! " continued he, in a 
tone of great disgust, to John, who drew nigh. 

Phebe spent a moment trying to swallow 
something which from the effort might have 
been the whole range of the Alleghany Moun- 
tains, and then, looking up with a smile like a 
rainbow, said, — 

" Well, I'm sure I didn't mean to be selfish, 
and I am truly glad they are not your flowers; 
but you know these disappointments come on 
one sometimes just like a great cloud, and 
one can't help a little rain ; " and she added, 
good-naturedly, "Don't you remember the 
little rhyme, 

1 April showers bring May flowers % ' " 

"I don't understand you," said Cornelius. 
"It would be a funnv flower-garden that 



62 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

would spring up under those showers. What 
do you mean ? " 

" I'm afraid I can't explain it very well," 
said Phebe, "but Miss Weston was telling 
me last Sunday that when any trouble came 
— big or little — it made every thing gloomy 
like the clouds on a rainy day, but if we took 
the cloud patiently, and let the rain come 
down and soften our hearts, after a while 
flowers would bud and bloom, — fair white 
flowers, — and the Beloved would come down 
into his garden to gather lilies." 

" What a terribly mixed-up speech that 
is," said Cornelius, scornfully. "I don't be- 
lieve you have the least idea what you are 
talking about. Lilies and flowers in one's 
heart ! What do you mean, you ridiculous 
goose ? " And John joined in the derisive 
laugh. 

Phebe answered timidly, "I do not know 
that I ought to say it, but now, after this 
cloud, which has been quite a big one to me, 
I'm hoping — you know I didn't get angry, 
Corny, or scold — so I'm hoping that there is 
a little bud of patience in my heart. I won't 
call it a flower yet, but may be it will be 
some day." 



THE GARDEN OF THE BELOVED 63 

"Phebe," said Cornelius, emphatically, 
yo l're a Pharisee, and Miss Weston's a prig ! 
Now, don't let me hear any more such non- 
sense, or I'll cut off all your red hair, and give 
it. to the boys to keep their hands warm. 
Ah ! there it goes again. One, two, — Oh 
what big drops ! Never mind, perhaps pa- 
tience will shove out a new leaf;" and, with 
a loud laugh, Cornelius turned a somersault 
down the garden path, followed by his shadow 
and echo — John. 

Phebe turned to the house, her heart so 
full of bitter thoughts that she couldn't feel 
at all certain about that rare plant she had 
hoped was beginning to bud. She had felt 
a very strong impulse to strike Cornelius 
when Iiq spoke so cruelly about her red hair, 
and some way she had a queer feeling that 
the blow had fallen instead upon that small 
bud, and that if it ever came to any thing it 
would be a rather scraggy flower. 

Phebe took a turn or two in the garden, 
and gradually became more composed. This 
was Saturday, — her holiday, — and it would 
not do to waste it all in tears. She would 
go and get the beautiful book Susan Brown 
lent her, and have a splendid time, reading, 



64 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

all by herself. But as she hurried into the 
house, her oldest sister, Caroline, called from 
the parlor, — 

" Here, Pl.ebe, take this glove and sew up 
the rips just as quick as you can. No; you 
may run up stairs first, and get my crimson 
shawl, and my handkerchief, and then just 
run to the basement and get me a glass of 
water before I go out. There — that's a dear 
little girl ! Oh ! did you bring my parasol ? 
the sun is so hot ! No ? Oh, well, you'll find 
it in some of my drawers. It won't take you 
a minute." 

Up went the patient feet, and back again. 

" There," cried sister Caroline, " how do I 
look?" 

* " Beautiful ! " was the heartfelt response ; 
and the pleased Caroline, kissing her, said, — 

" Well, you are good, if you are not very 
pretty ; " and she tripped carelessly from the 
room. 

"If not very pretty," said Phebe to her- 
self sadly, and she stole up to the mirror and 
looked in. 

Little pale, thin face, topped with a crown 
of naming hair. 

"Another April shower," cried Cornelius 



THE GARDEN Of THE BELOVED. 65 

at the door, and p^or Phebe turned away very 
patient, very ', amble, and the flowers of meek- 
ness and gentleness began to open their sweet 
leaves. 

" Now I shall have a little time to read," 
thought Phebe again to herself, and she hur- 
ried up stairs to forget her sorrows in the 
wonderful book ; but, alas ! the nursery door 
opened just as she reached the top of the 
steps. 

" Miss Phebe," cried nurse, carrying little 
sobbing Bobby, " would you be so very kind 
as to amuse baby just five minutes? My 
head aches so, I'm quite distracted, and if I 
could only lie down, and bathe it with cam- 
phor — but master Bobby is so fractious with 
his teeth, he won't be put down a moment." 

Phebe gave a long sigh. " No, Miggs," she 
began, "I'm tired myself." Oh! how the 
tender buds of gentleness and love began to 
droop ! and a great weed of selfishness grew 
faster than a mushroom. 

" Well, Miss," said Miggs, kindly, " I sup- 
pose you are. You're everybody's little slave, 
that's a fact ! Never mind." 

"No," cried Phebe, falteriugly ; "I didn't 
mean that. I'll take him a little while 

5 



C6 HELPS OVER HA ED PLACES. 

Come, Bobby ; " and Bobby's fretful mouth 
softened into a smile as he sprang into the 
arms of his favorite sister. 

It was afternoon, and again there seemed a 
prospect of a little pence. Carry, mother, 
nurse and baby were out taking a drive, and 
John and Cornelius, with their schoolmates, 
were holding apolitical meeting in the barn. 

Phebe settled herself with her book in the 
broad window-seat, and all her trials seemed 
to fade away, but when she had been reading 
about ten minutes, and was just in the most 
exciting part of the story, there came a timid 
knock at the door. She raised her head with 
a frown, and there — she could just have 
cried from vexation — there stood tedious 
old Mrs. Smith. Phebe felt very rebellious. 

" Mother and Carry are both out," said she, 
very quickly. 

" Never mind, my dear. I will sit awhile 
with youP 

" This is the biggest cloud yet," said Phebe 
bitterly to herself. " I thought I had had 
enough for one day. It is too bad! too 
bud!" But unconscious old Mrs. Smith sat 
down, and took off her pattens, and laid by 
her shawl, as if sho had come to stay all the 



THE GARDEN OF THE BELOTED. 67 

rest of the day. Then she began to tell little 
Phebe about her last attack of rheumatism, 
and of the dreadful cough she had nights, 
how she had frozen her feet last January, and 
how she had fallen and knocked out one of 
her front teeth, and how brother John's chil- 
dren — the whole eight of them — had the 
measles — all when poor Phebe was just 
dying to read whether Jack Ringtop ever 
found his way out of the black forest. Phebe 
was very rebellious at first, and I am afraid 
that if the " Beloved " had then gone down 
into his garden, he would have found no lilies. 
But, after a great struggle, she concluded to 
make the best of this shower, and she an- 
swered Mrs. Smith so kindly, and had so 
much sympathy for all her trials, that the old 
woman was full of grateful surprise, and 
going away at last, she laid her withered old 
hand upon her head, and blessed her in the 
name of the Lord. And though, almost as 
soon as she was gone, crying baby came home, 
and Carry had a dozen errands for the wil- 
ling hands and feet, still Phebe felt wonder- 
fully happy, and the buds of " long-suffering " 
began to put forth in the showers, wbik pa- 
tience really burst into full flcwer. 



G8 II E LPS OVER II A ED r LACES. 

It was now tea-time, and Phebe was look, 
tng forward with some apprehension to the 
coming of her ill-natured, teasing brother, 
when John appeared, breathless, with a white 
face, and announced that Cornelius had fallen 
from the hay-loft, and hurt himself very much. 
The news was indeed too true. Cornelius 
had broken his leg, and was carried to his 
room to be a prisoner for weeks. Forgiving 
Phebe was his nurse from the first, and Cor- 
nelius, impatient and angry with pain and 
confinement, exhausted his ingenuity in con- 
triving ways to make her trouble. 

" You little fright ! " he cried angrily, one 
night, as she stole in to see if there was any 
thing more she could do, — " do you want to 
know w hat you look like ? In the first place, 
you're about as fat as a broom-stick, and in 
that white wrapper you look like a tallow 
candle with your red hair for the light. Get 
out of my sight ; you're horrid ! I'd like to 
snuff you out." 

But no sooner had poor Phebe stolen hum- 
bly away, than he called her back to execute 
a dozen different commands, reproaching her 
that she wasn't more unselfish — more like 
k Good little Jane." 



THE GARDEN OF THE BELOVED. 6P 

This was a long, cloudy time for Phebc, 
and more than an April rain, but the flowers 
grew fast in the showers. Love, patience, 
long-suffering, gentleness, meekness, were all 
there, and Phebe was far from unhappy, for 
joy and peace are always found blossoming 
in the same company. 

Cornelius worried himself into a fever, and 
his life was despaired of, but when, after a long 
struggle, his strong constitution conquered, and 
he began slowly to improve, every one could 
see that some change had come over him. 
His eyes had a different look now, as they 
followed little Phebe's swift, noiseless steps 
around his room. Such patient, tireless feet ! 
Such an uncomplaining, self-sacrificing sister ! 
How could he have been blind so long ? And 
that red hair, how he loved every golden 
thread ! As she sat by the window at sunset 
one day, with her little Bible opened before 
her, it seemed like a saint's halo around her 
sweet face. 

" John," whispered the repentant Cornelius, 
" I have made a long April for our little sister, 
but oh ! how the flowers have grown ! I see 
it all now ; and do you know I have mado 
a resolve that from this time I will do all I 



70 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

can to make life sunshine to her, for I'm 
frightened to see her so good, and I'm afraid 
when the May flowers are all in bloom, they 
will take her where everlasting Spring 
abides." 

Just then sister Carry entered the room. 
"Hush," said Cornelius, putting his finger ou 
his lip, and pointing to Phebe, who still sat, 
her sweet face upturned, and her lovely eyes 
looking far away into the rosy sky. 

Carry looked, and almost started, as the 
idea suddenly flashed upon her that little 
Phebe was beautiful, — far more beautiful than 
she, with her red cheeks and brown hair. 

"• You never looked like that, Carry," said 
Cornelius, softly. 

" Xever half so pretty," cried echo John. 

" What is it ? " said Carry, almost fretfully, 
— "Phebe!" 

" Hush," implored Cornelius, " don't trouble 
her. I will tell you. I understand it all 
now;" and the tears rolled down his thin 
cheeks. " Don't disturb her for the world. 
Little Phebe has a beautiful heart, and when- 
ever she looks like that you may know the 
' Beloved has gone down to his garden to 
gather lilies.' " 



VII. 

THE DANGEROUS DOOR. 

* Cousin Will, cousin Will, tell us a story ! 
Do, please. There's just time before the 
Bchool-bell rings ; " and Harry, Kate, Bob, and 
little "Peace," a rosy battalion, surrounded 
his chair, and at Bob's word of command, 
- 1 Present arms ! " embraced his knees, clung 
around his neck, and otherwise made such a 
vigorous attack, that cousin Will sued for 
mercy, and declared himself quite ready to 
surrender. 

"Well, what shall it be, little Peace?" 
r *aid he, taking the plump hand of his favor- 
ite Lucy, who had obtained the name of 
•Peace," or "Peacemaker," on account of 
tier gentle disposition ; for she never could 
aear angry words, or see an unloving look 
pass between her little friends, or brothers 
md sisters, without doing every thing in her 
^>ower to smooth over the trouble, and get 
them to "kiss and make up." 

71 



VI IIELTS OVER HARD PLACES. 

" Well, little Peace, what shall it be ? " 

"Something true this time," said Peace, 
"for I'm getting tired of dragons and fairies." 

" Very well," saicVcousin Will. " I've only 
live minutes, and must be short. I'm going 
to tell you about some very dangerous doors 
I've seen." 

" Oh, that's good ! " exclaimed Bob. " Were 
they all iron, and heavy bars, and if one 
passed through would they shut with a great 
snap, and keep him there forever?" 

"No," replied cousin Will, "the doors I 
mean are very pleasant to look upon. They 
arc pink, or scarlet, like sea-shells, and when 
they open, you can see a row of little servants 
standing all in white, and just behind them is 
a little lady dressed in crimson." 

"Why, that's splendid," cried Kate; "I 
should like to go in myself." 

"Ah, it is what comes out of those doors 
that makes them so dangerous. It is always 
best to have a strong guard on each side, or 
else there is great trouble and misery." 

" Why, what comes out ? " said little Peace, 
with w T ondering eyes. 

""Well, I've never seen very clearly," said 
cousin Will, " but sometimes, when the guards 



THE DANG Ell OUS DOOR. 73 

Were away, I've known something to conic 
out sharper than arrows, or stings of bees, 
and they made some terrible wounds. In- 
deed, quite lately I saw two very pretty little 
doors close together, and when one opened, 
the little crimson lady began to talk very fast, 
and said something like this : ' Oh ! did you 
see Lucy Waters to-day ? What a proud, 
"stuck-up" thing she is; but that dress she 
thinks so much of is made out of her sister's 
old one.' 'Oh yes,' said the little crimson 
lady looking out of the other door; 'and did 
you ever see such a funny turn-up nose as she 
has ? Why, I think she'd keep it rolled up in 
cotton if she only knew how it looked.' 
Then poor Lucy Waters, who was only round 
the corner of the house, felt a sharp little sting 
in her heart, and ran home to cry all the 
pleasant summer evening." 

"I know what you mean, cousin Will," 
cried Kate, coloring violently, "but I don't 
think it was at all right for you to stand 
around listening? 

" Oh ! do you mean our mouths are the 
doors," exclaimed Harry, "and the little 
crimson lady is Miss Tongue ? " 

" Even so," said cousin Will, 



74 HELPS OVER HARD PLACE3. 

" Well, who is the guard, and where do 
they come from ? " asked Bob. 

"Why, you have to ask the great King; 
and this is what you must say : ' Set a watch, 
O Lord, upon my lips, keep the door of my 
mouth: Then he will send Patience and 
Love to stand on one side of the door, and 
Truth and. Humility on the other, and the 
sharp, bitter, stinging little words won't dare 
to come out," 

"I shall ask the great King," said little 
Peace, thoughtfully. Cousin Will kissed her, 
and repeated the verse till each one could say- 
it. "Nov/ run to school," cried he, cheerily, 
" and when you come home, I will tell you, the 
minute I look at the four little doors, whether 
the King's guard has been there all day." 

So the children trooped away with their 
dinner-baskets and books, and Love certainly 
guarded the doors all the way to the school- 
house. Even impulsive Kate thought deeply 
on cousin Will's gentle reproof, and made 
great resolutions for the future. During the 
morning great peace and harmony reigned 
throughout the school, but as the day ad- 
vanced it became very warm. Every round 
cheek became flushed, and the restless little 



THE DANGEROUS DOOR. < 3 

figures seemed examples of perpetual mo- 
tion. 

"Oh, I. never did see such flies!" said 
Jenny Wood, fretfully, waving her hand 
around her head. 

" Why, Jenny Wood," cried Susy Waters, 
almost aloud, " you've knocked my elbow, 
and shook ink all over my copy! You're a 
careless, hateful girl ! " 

"Susan," said Miss Saunders, the teacher, 
"are you whispering?" 

"No, ma'am," replied Susy, promptly. 

Peace looked up with such surprise in her 
innocent eyes, that Miss Saunders turned to 
her, asking, "Lucy, who was whispering in 
your part of the room?" 

Susy and Jenny both turned upon her with 
a very threatening look, and little Peace, col- 
oring painfully, burst into tears. 

"Never mind," said Miss Saunders, kindly ; 
"I did not think it was you, but Susy may 
sit a while upon the recitation bench." 

Susy looked black, and as she passed little 
Peace she gave the child such a violent pinch 
that she could scarcely keep from screaming. 

"You're a cruel, wicked girl!" began Miss 
Tongue * but Love and Patience kept the lit* 



76 HELPS OVER HiRD PLACES. 

tie red door tight shut, and Susy did notheai 
a word. Little Peace cried quietly to herself 
a long time, but nobody seemed to notice it 
till school was out, when sister Kate flew up 
to Susy Waters. 

" Wei], Susy, you certainly are the ugliest 
girl — and, more than that, you're a coward^ 
for I've heard father say that only cowards 
hurt people who are smaller and weaker than 
themselves." 

Now Love, Humility and Patience had all 
tried to keep guard, and to whisper, "Poor 
Susy ; she was very tired and warm, and no- 
body speaks kindly to her. Try and forgive 
her." But no ! the door Hew open, and lit- 
tle Miss Tongue threw all those hard stones 
at Susy's heart. 

Now Susy was very passionate, and she 
stamped her feet, and grew crimson with rage, 
and said such very hard things, that Jenny 
Wood and most of the other girls took sides 
with Kate, and there was soon such a Babel 
of tongues, that the boys left their game of 
ball and came to see what was the matter. 

" What is it, Peace ? " cried Harry Graham, 
taking his little frightened sister from Kate's 
neck. " Why, Katy, you look as mad as poor 



THE DiNGEROUS DOOR. 77 

puss when Towser has chased her for an hour. 
I wonder what cousin Will would say to that 
month?" 

Katy looked a little ashamed, and Fred 
Waters, taking his sister by the arm, led her 
away home, bitterly telling over wrongs in 
his sympathizing ear. So the little party sep- 
arated, and Kate, too, ran home with her 
flushing cheeks, taking good care to keep out 
of cousin Will's way. 

Immediately after tea, Jenny Wood came 
into the garden. "Oh, Kate," she cried, "I 
must tell you what John is going to do. You 
know he despises that hateful Susy Waters as 
much as we do, and he says he will pay her 
to-night for all her ugliness." 

" What will he do ? " cried Kate, eagerly. 

" Why, he, with one of the other boys, is 
going there after dark to get that white kit- 
ten she thinks so much of, and cut off its ears 
and tail. Oh ! won't she be furious when 
she sees it in the morning ? " 

Kate looked a little doubtful, and said, 
"Oh ! Fni afraid that won't be just right." 

But Jenny talked so fast, and recalled so 
many ugly things that she had said and done, 
that Kate's scruples were soon orercome. 



78 HELPS OVER IIARD PLACES. 

But Teace, who had stood by, with sad, 
troubled eyes, immediately resolved in her 
generous little heart to try and give Susy 
warning. Finding Bob, she hastily told him 
the whole story, and that she must go to 
Susy's, but she'd run all the way, and be 
back before dark. 

It was a long walk for the tired little girl, 
but the patient feet started bravely on their 
errand of love. The sun set — the shadows 
lengthened — all the little birds sang their 
sweet good-night and put their heads under 
their wings, but no little Peace came back. 
Soon there were inquiries on every side, and 
great shouting and calling, but no sweet echo- 
ing voice returned. Servants were dispatched 
in every direction, but all in vain. Soon the 
family became much alarmed, and little Bob 
was awakened to be asked if he knew any- 
thing of his sister. He told all the story, 
and Kate, coloring under cousin Will's re- 
proachful gaze, burst into bitter weeping. 
But no one had time to comfort her, for 
father, mother, cousin Will, and all, started 
forth with lanterns to find the pet of the 
household. 

" I suppose she is blessed wherever she is," 



THE DANGEROUS DOOR, 79 

said little Bob, confidently, " because eho's a 
peacemaker? 

" Ob, perhaps," groaned Kate, " she's gone 
away from us all to be one of the children ol 
God." 

All night long they searched for little 
Peace, but she had not been at Susy's, nor 
could she any where be found. When the 
morning dawned, all the little schoolmates 
with solemn faces joined in the search. 

Susy Waters, who had heard the whole 
story of the dear heart of little Peace, came 
up to Kate, with a pale, tear-stained face. 
"Oh, Kate, I shall never be happy again. 
How cruel I was to your sweet little sister. 
Can you ever forgive me ? " 

Humility opened the door, and Kate said 
softly, "I am just as bad as you. If I had 
only been as kind as Peace, you would have 
been different. I shall never forgive my- 
self? 

Just then Bob cried, " Here's part of hot 
dress on the fence." Cousin Will sprang for- 
ward, and, climbing over, looked eagerly 
around. 

Suddenly Farmer Waters cried, "There's 
an old, half-chokod well by the fence in fho 



80 HELPS OVER HARD TLACES. 

next field. Could the little one have lost her 
way, and fallen in that?" 

Cousin Will rushed forward, followed by 
the whole company. Yes, the rotten old 
boards which had covered it for years were 
broken, and there was another piece of the 
little blue dress. 

Cousin Will shuddered, and threw himself 
down to look over the brink. Then came a 
wild, triumphant cry ! The old well was 
nearly filled up with rubbish. She had only 
fallen a little way, and there, bathed in the 
rosy morning light, the eager eyes, looking 
over, saw the fair hair, and the sweet, calm 
eyes of little Peace. Every boy's cap took a 
turn in the air, and a clear, ringing " hurrah ! " 
carried the good news to every house in the 
place. 

Then followed warm embraces, and happy 
tears, as the child was passed from friend to 
friend. Then, while Susy, Jenny, and Kate 
knelt hand in hand, the good old minister, 
with his hand on the head of little Peace, 
offered up a fervent thanksgiving. And after 
praying that the little lambs might never for- 
get the lesson of the night, but that God would 
teach them that life and death were in the 



TIIE DANGEROUS DOOR. 81 

power of the tongue, and that he would al- 
ways keep the doors of all those tender 
mouths, he added, reverently, — 

"O Lord, open Thou our lips, and our 
mouths shall show forth thy praise." And all 
the children said, "Amen." 
c 



Vin. 

WALKING IN LOVE. 

TnEKE could not have been a more beauti- 
ful day. To be sure, there had been a few 
clouds early in the morning, but, as ISTelly 
"Warren declared, there was only enough water 
in them for the sun to wash his face, and give 
his little flower-children each a drink. And 
now every thing was so bright and beautiful, 
and every little drop dancing on the grass- 
blades was shaking and twinkling io think 
what a fright it had given the boys and girls, 
when it was only " playing rain." 

For you must know it was a holiday in the 
little village Academy, and all the scholars 
were going to take their dinners and spend 
the happy day in the woods. 

It was a very pleasant sight when the chil- 
dren started in company from the Academy 
gate. There were such sunny smiles playing 
"hide and seek" in the merry dimples — such 
bright eyes — blue, black, and gray — such 



WALKING n LOVE. 83 

nimble, dancing feet, and oh ! such a chatter, 
it would have utterly discouraged a full con- 
vention of magpies and mocking-birds, if they 
had been within hearing distance. 

Bob Patterson would walk with pretty 
Belle Hamilton, and very politely carried the 
basket with the nice sandwiches and cake 
packed cosily within. Charley Graham was 
looking for Nelly Warren, who was not really 
so very pretty, but was so good, that all hei 
little mates would have been quite offended 
with any one who did not think her beautiful. 
Her face was quite sunburned and freckled . 
and her eyes were certainly gray, but she hac 
a kind and loving heart, was always ready tc 
do any thing to make others happy, — in short, 
the whole secret of little Nelly's beauty was, 
that she tried to "iccdJc in love." 

" Come, Nelly," cried Charley, " let me have 
your basket, and I'll hold your little brother's 
hand, too. Come, they will get ahead of us ! " 

" Charley," whispered Nelly, " no one will 
walk with poor Phil Barton." 

" Well, Zdon't want to," said Susy Gifford, 
pouting; "he walks so slow, and is so awk- 
ward, and then he isn't full of fun, like the 
rest of us." 



84 Relps o v e it hard places. 

"1 don't see why he wanted to come," said 
Fanny Smythe. "If I were such a scare-a-crow 
as lie, I'd go and live with the owls, and never 
show myself in day-light." 

" Oh, Fanny," exclaimed Nelly, "how could 
yon? I'm almost sure he heard you;" and 
she looked anxiously after a little deformed 
boy, who limped slowly away from the group. 

Fanny looked a little uneasy, and turned 
away, arm-in-arm with Susy. 

"Now, do come, Nelly," said Charley. 
"Never mind Phil — he's used to walking 
alone." 

" Oh," said Nelly, almost crying, "he's been 
talking of this walk all the week, and he 
thought he was going to be so happy. iVbw, 
I'm afraid he won't enjoy it at all. I believe 
I must walk with him, Charley," she said, half 
pleadingly. 

> "Well, Nelly Warren, you're a perfect 
goose ! " cried Charley, angrily, " and always 
do the queerest, most provoking things in the 
world ; " and he, too, turned quickly away, and 
hastened after the rest. 

What a change a few angry words can 
make. Nelly thought, for a moment, it was 
growing dark and was going to rain, but it 



WALKING IN LOVE 85 

was only a little mistiness in her own eyes, 
and hastily passing the back of her little 
brown hand across them, she ran on to Phil. 

The poor boy was standing quite alone, 
with a most pitiful look of patient sadness in . 
his great brown eyes. 

"Will you walk with me, Phil?" asked 
Nelly, in her most cheerful tone. 

The boy started, and said, with a sad but 
grateful smile, "No, Nelly, thank you just the 
same, but I think I won't go. I don't feel 
quite well." 

The tears overflowed Nelly's eyes, as she 
took his poor, thin hand. " I know all about 
it, Phil. You must not mind what the girls 
oaid. They did not mean it — they didn't 
think, — that's all. Now don't be angry, 
Phil." 

" I am not angry," said the boy, very quiet- 
ly, " but I suppose I must be a perfect fright ; 
and Pll spoil all the fun for the rest." 

"Not at all," cried Nelly, emphatically. 
"Why, Phil, you have a very pleasant face. 
You know all the boys and girls like you just 
as soon as they really know you ; but some- 
times you're proud] ust a little, and turn away 
from them, and that provokes them, and hurts 



86 HELPS OYER HARD PLACES. 

their feelings, so they won't try to go tvith 
you any more. Don't you know it, Phil? " 

"Perhaps it is so," said Phil, very humbly; 
"but I always think they're kind, because 
they're so sorry for me, and all the time they 
are longing to be somewhere else. Oh! 
Nelly, you don't know how hard" — Phil 
burst into tears. 

Nelly tried to say something, but could 
only cry too ; and it was just the best thing she 
could do. There is no sympathy so sweet 
and consoling as just to "weep with those 
that weep." So, after the little outburst was 
over, Phil felt much better, and was easily 
persuaded to go on with Nelly. Indeed, the 
whole aspect of things seemed changed, for 
any way seems pleasant if we are only " walk- 
ing in love." 

The party, who were some distance in ad- 
vance, waited at the entrance of the wood 
for Nelly and her friend. " Isn't she a curious 
girl?" said Susy Gilford. "I wouldn't be so 
odd for all the world," said Fanny Smythe. 
" She is just the best girl in the Academy," 
said Charley Graham, who began to be thor- 
oughly sorry for his rude speech. 

"Yes, that she is," echoed Belle Hamilton, 



WALKING IN LOVE. 87 

with an affectionate generosity, which made 
her look prettier than ever. 

Now they all went into the cool, green 
woods, fragrant with wild-flowers and the 
odorous pine trees. As they danced along 
with singing and laughter, Phil quietly gath- 
ered the sweetest and freshest blossoms, and 
made them into a wreath for Nelly. But she 
noticed that, in the little bouquet he carried 
in his own hand, although the floicers were 
beautiful, every stem was crooked, and a great 
many had strange, misshapen leaves. 

"Why do you pick flowers with such 
crooked stems and leaves ? " asked Nelly. 

"They are like me," replied poor, patient 
Phil, with a smile that made Nelly feel like 
bursting into tears. 

"Don't feel bad, Nelly," he added, quickly. 
"I like just such flowers. I like to look at 
them, and think that, perhaps, if I try very 
hard, I may have a beautiful soul, which will 
some time come out, and make me pleasant 
and lovely, just like these sweet flowers ol. 
their crooked steins. All of this kind of plants, 
Nelly, always make me think of very homely 
persons who have beautiful thoughts." 

Nelly looked sympathizing, and was glad 



©O IIELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

Phil was pleased, though she did not exactly 
understand the odd fancies of the boy, who 
had never known what it was to be careless 
and happy, and who was thoughtful far be- 
yond his years. 

The rest of the morning passed very hap- 
pily. The boys and girls were very good- 
natured after all, and, following Nelly's exam- 
ple, were all so kind to Phil, that it was by 
far the happiest day he had known in weeks. 

And Phil himself was never more anxious 
to please. He knew just where the prettiest 
flowers grew, and gathered them for the girls. 
He made little bridges across the damp places, 
that they might not wet their feet, and was 
ready to carry all shawls and baskets that 
were imposed on his good-nature. In fact, 
since Nelly had told him lie was apt to be 
cold and proud, he had been trying to over- 
come it; and to judge from the kind looks 
and pleasant words showered upon him, he 
was already reaping his reward. 

Only once, as they were looking for a pleas- 
ant encampment, where they might eat din- 
ner, Belle Hamilton exclaimed, "Who gave 
Phil so much to carry ? It is too bad." 

" Oh," said Fanny Smythe, in a whisper, 



WALKING IN LOVE. 89 

which was a little too loud, '.' that's all he's 
good for. Don't the camels always carry 
something?" and the thoughtless girl glanced 
at the hump on poor Phil's back. 

"Oh, Fanny!" exclaimed Nelly, as she 
looked at the changing color in Phil's face, 
and saw how his lip trembled when he 
bravely attempted his old patient smile. 
Fanny was really much abashed for a few 
minutes, *and Phil was taken into extra favor 
by the rest of the kind-hearted company. 

I should make my story too long if I should 
tell you all that was done throughout that 
happy day — the merry games that were 
played — the wonderful stories that were 
told — the fairy bowers that were made, and 
the sweet, wild strawberries that were picked 
for tea. Neither have I time to tell you of 
all the kind acts and words of the boys and 
girls who, like Nelly, were trying to " walk 
in love." There is only one thing more which 
you may like to hear about Phil. 

When they were on the way home, a very 
merry but very tired party, Fanny Smythe 
suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, I have lost my 
coral pin that my aunt gave me on my birth 



90 HELPS OVER HARD PLACE?. 

day. What shall I do?" and she buist into 
tears. 

All the boys and girls gathered around, fall 
of sympathy. But they were all so tired, and 
it was so late, no one offered to go hack. 
Even little Nelly looked wistfully at the vil- 
lage roofs, just visible through the trees, and 
could not find courage to volunteer for the 
search. 

" I'll tell you what, Fanny," said Charley 
Graham, "I'll get up very early to-morrow 
morning, and look all over wherever we've 
been. I'm sure I'll find it, for no one goes in 
the woods but just us boys and girls, and I'll 
have it for you to-morrow, by school-time." 

" Oh ! I'm sure it won't be found," sobbed 
Fanny, "or it will be all broken in pieces. I 
shan't sleep a wink to-night." 

"Well," said Bob Patterson, "it is getting 
so dark in the woods now, we certainly could 
not find it. It is just nonsense to think of it ; 
but if you'll only wait till to-morrow, I'll go 
up with Charley." 

"And I, and I," said one or two other 
voices. 

There was no other way, and Fanny, with 
some very ungracious words about disobliging 



WALKING IN LOVE. 91 

people, went sobbing homeward, making 
every one around her miserable. 

No one noticed that Phil was missing from 
the group, but as they slowly entered the vil- 
lage street, Fanny still loudly lamenting, 
an eager voice was heard, crying, "Fanny, 
Fanny ; " and looking around, poor Phil was 
discovered, limping as fast as he could, hold- 
ing up the lost pin. 

"Why, Phil Barton," cried a chorus of 
voices, " did you go back ? Where did you 
find it?" 

" By the brook," panted Phil. 

" Way back to the brook ! " cried they in 
sympathizing surprise, while Fanny blushed 
crimson. 

"Poor, dear Phil !" said Nelly, softly; and 
she thought of the lovely flowers on the 
crooked stems. 

" Phil, you're splendid ! " cried Charley Gra- 
ham, impulsively, — " let's be friends ; " and he 
shook hands warmly with the pale, tired boy, 
and insisted on walking home with nim. 

But first Fanny must speak with him; and, 
from her painful blushes and his embarrass- 
ment, they knew she was asking his forgive- 



92 HELPS OVER II A 11 D PLACES. 

ness; but no one liked Fanny the less foi 
that. 

None of the boys and girls forgot the les- 
son of that day, nor how very sweet it was 
"to walk in love." Especially had every one 
a new liking for Phil ; and the next Sabbath, 
as in the chapter for the day were read the 
sweet words of the coming of Christ — " who 
shall change our vile body that it may be 
fashioned like unto his glorious body" — 
many a glance of tenderness was directed to 
the pew where sat little Phil. His hands 
were clasped tightly together, his large eyes 
were dreaming of something far away, and 
on his pale lips rested such a sweet, peaceful 
smile, that Nelly knew the flower was blos- 
soming, and that when Phil had a little 
longer "walked in love," God would make 
him beautiful forever. 



IX. 

DREAMING SUSY. 

Some little friends, when they read the words 
"Dreaming Susy," — will be sure to imagine, 
all in a minute, a pretty little girl — blue 
eyes, dimples and roses mixed in just the right 
proportions — who has been playing all day, 
and, very tired, has at last fallen asleep out in 
the hay-field, or under the apple tree. 

But no : you are not quite right, Tom and 
Kitty, for the little girl that I am going to 
tell you about used to dream with her eyes 
wide open. All day long, from sunrise to sun- 
set, little Susy dreamed and dreamed, till you 
hardly knew whether to say she was ever 
awake or not. 

Perhaps you will understand me better if 
I give an account of one of the days of 
Susy's life. 

In the morning would come a loud call — 
" Susy ! Susy ! it is time to get up ! " and 
Susy, rubbing her eyes, would answer, " Yes, 

93 



94 HELPS OYER HARD PLACES. 

mother," and sit up in bed. Then she would 
think, — " What a trouble to put on my stock- 
ings and shoes and comb my hair. How nice 
it would be" — and here Susy would begin 
to dream — "if I had a little black slave to 
come in and wait on me. She would wash me 
with sweet perfumed soap, and curl my hair in 
[ong ringlets, and dress me in a blue silk dress, 
and put a little thin handkerchief, all em- 
broidery, in my hand, and then, if I felt lazy, 
I would say, 'You may bring my breakfast 
up stairs, this morning, Jette, — a little broiled 
chicken and some toast; and — let me see — 
yes, some preserves and cake, and'" — 

" Susy, Susy ! " her mother's voice would 
break in, " breakfast is all ready ; " and Susy, 
with a great start, would find she had been 
dreaming half an hour, and the end of 
it all would be that she would either lose 
her breakfast altogether, or come down very 
ill-naturedly, with her hair hastily twisted in 
a little knot, and make a meal of cold cakes 
and potatoes, in such very different plight 
from what she had imagined in that pleasant 
dream, that tears of vexation were continually 
coming in her eyes. 

Then after breakfast her brother would 



DREAMING SUSY. 95 

say, " Susy, do you know your arithmetic 
lesson? It's all fractions, and I've been up 
studying for more than an hour." 

" Oh, Joe, please let me take the book," 
cried Susy; "I don't know one word ; " and 
sitting down in the door-way, she opens at 
the place. Oh dear, how could she ever un- 
derstand it ? What a regiment of figures — 
$ off of 3}! How could she ever bring 
them into line, and find out just what they 
were worth? Susy scowled and fretted, and 
then, staring up into the big tree before the 
door, a vacant, absent look came in her eyes, 
and in a minute she was off dreaming. 

" How nice it would be," thought Susy, " if 
I lived in a palace, and had a fairy god-mother. 
There was once a princess whose cruel step- 
mother put her in a room where there was a 
great heap of feathers. ' These,' said she, 
' are the feathers of a hundred different birds, 
and you must pick them all out by night, and 
have each kind by itself in a hundred differ- 
ent heaps, or I'll kill you.' So the poor prin- 
cess cried and cried," — 

" Susy, Susy," cried Joe, " you're way off 
in the clouds. You're not studying at all." 



DG HELPS OVER II A ED PLACES. 

" I will in a minute," cried Susy, emphati- 
cally, and then she went on: 

" So the poor princess cried, and cried, till 
at last her fairy god-mother came, and waved 
her wand three times, and every little blue 
and red feather flew into its place in a minute. 
jSTow," thought Susy, " if a fairy could only 
come and wave over this lesson, and make 
every figure fly just where it ought, and make 
all the sense of it run into my brain, how 
splendid it would be ! Then, when I recited, 
Miss Brown would say, 'You have an ad- 
mirable lesson, Miss Susan ; go to the head of 
the class,' and " — 

Ding-dong, ding-dong ! " Why, that can't 
be the school bell," cried Susy, jumping up 
hastily. " It is, though," said Joe ; " and your 
wits have been on a goose-chase for almost 
three-quarters of an hour. I took your Arith- 
metic away ten minutes ago, and you never 
knew it at all." 

Susy rose with flushed cheeks and tearful 
eyes, and held out her hand for the book. 
All the way to school she studied, with the 
help of her good-natured brother, but all in 
vain. The time was too short ; and at tho 
close of her recitation, instead of hearing any 



DREAMING SUSY- 97 

praises, she caught a very sad look upon the 
teacher's face, and heard that " hateful Patty 
Porter" titter, as she was sent to take her 
place at the foot of the class. 

But all these mortifications and privations 
seemed to have very little effect upon Susy. 
That very night, as she sat with a little piece 
of sewing her mother had given her, the 
needle fell from her ringers, and her eyes again 
were fixed upon vacancy. 

"What are you after now, Susy?" cried 
Joe. 

" Well, I'm thinking what if I had three 
pairs of hands, and while one pair did the 
hemming, another could sew on these strings, 
and another could stitch down that seam, 
and we'd have it all done in no time at all." 

" Well, I never! " exclaimed Joe. " Seems 
to me I'd learn to use one pair of hands be- 
fore I was fretting for more. Now I believe 
IHl dream a little too. Suppose people came 
into the world with the ends of their arms 
all smooth, without any hands at all, and sup* 
pose every time they were very good, or ac- 
complished any great thing, a finger would 
grow out. I guess they'd be pretty thank- 
ful if they ever got ten of them. I wonder 



98 HELPS OfER HARD PLACE3. 

how many you'd have by this time ! I know 
you'd dream you had two or three hundred ; 
but I shouldn't be a bit surprised if you hadn't 
the first joint of a fore-finger." 

Susy colored and bit her lips, but had not 
a word to say. 

But more serious consequences than these 
resulted from Susy's habit of dreaming. She 
was very fond of taking long walks, and as 
she lived only a mile from the sea-shore, she 
would often, on a Saturday, ramble there with 
her work, and, sitting on the rocks, dream 
away hours at a time. 

Now it happened one day that Susy had 
an examination composition to write, and 
taking her pencil and paper with her, she 
went down to the rocks, so, as she said, " that 
no one should interrupt her." She played 
awhile with the sand and shells, and then, 
settling herself comfortably, she spread her 
paper upon her lap, and began to — dream. 

"How nice it would be," began Susy in 
usual fashion, " if some great big hand would 
take hold of my pencil, and, without my hav- 
ing to think at all, would just guide it along 
over the paper, writing the funniest and 
nicest things in the world ; then how neatly 




Helps for Girls. Page 98. 



DREAMING SUSY. 99 

I would copy it off, and have it all off my 
mind. And when examination came, I should 
read it very slowly and distinctly, and when 
I finished, Deacon Mason would pat me on 
the head, and say, ' I didn't know Miss Susan 
had so much talent. I shouldn't wonder if 
she'd write a book some day ;' and Patty Por- 
ter would just die of envy, and almost cry 
when she got up to read — ' Lions. The lion 
is a very useful animal.' And then," ran on 
Susy, __ « what should I wear ? I wish father 
was rich ; or how nice it would be if I could 
wake in the morning, and find by my bed a 
lovely pink silk, and a wreath of white roses, 
such as the ladies at the grand hotel wore 
this summer. How sweet I should look ! I 
wouldn't be a bit proud, either, but would 
walk by Kitty Bell's brown delaine, just the 
Bame as ever." 

Thus ran on Susy's nimble thoughts, and 
she entirely forgot how late it was growing 
till suddenly the sea, which had been slowly 
creeping nearer and nearer, sent a little dash 
of spray up in her face. Susy started and 
looked quickly around. Oh! how careless 
she had. been! She had been dreaming, 
dreaming, till the cold, cruel sea had come 



46526A 



1T0 HELP 3 OVEC HARD VhACES. 

crawling all around the little rock where iha 
was sitting, and there seemed no way of es- 
cape. Poor Susy ! she was wide awake now, 
and she remembered that at high tide her 
rock was perfectly covered. What should 
she do ? She called wildly, and looked out 
over the rough, gray water, and back on 
the dreary gray shore. There was no one in 
sight, and dropping down again, poor Susy 
dreamed no more of silk dresses and rose- 
wreaths, but sobbed till she could cry no 
more. But the sea came creeping up, surely, 
surely, and suddenly she felt its cold touch 
through the toes of her stout leather boots, 
and with a little, sharp cry, she drew them up, 
with her knees close under her chin. Oh! 
how dreadful to wake up from such a lovely 
dream to such a terrible reality ! The water - 
crept nearer. She could not draw her feet 
up any further, and it rose over her little^ 
round ankles. Susy covered her face with 
her hands, and thought of home. She knew 
just how pleasant the old kitchen was look- 
in £. She shouldn't wonder if mother had 
made gingerbread, and was cooking apples 
for tea, and pussy was washing herself by the 
fire. But oh, when they all sat dowu to tea, 



DREAMING SUSY. 101 

and were laughing and telling stones, she 
would be lying upon the cold, gray sand, like 
that poor lady who was wrecked a year ago 
— lying all cold and still, with seaweed in 
her hair. "Yes, I must die," thought Susy, 
" and I haven't been good at all ; but perhaps, 
if I get down on my /cnees, the angels will 
think I'm one of God's children, and carry 
me to heaven by mistake." But the water 
came higher still, and poor sobbing Susy con 
eluded she would rather die standing up. 
Oh, how cold it was, and how she trembled ! 
She couldn't stand much longer, and — what 
then? 

"Father! mother! Joe!" screamed Susy 
frantically, covering her eyes as she felt her- 
self swaying dizzily forward. 

" I declare if there isn't our Susy," cried 
Joe's astonished voice, and his boat swept 
rapidly around the corner of a rock. 

" My little daughter ! " cried father ; and 
Susy knew no more till she found herself 
wrapped in a great coat, held safe in her 
father's arms. 

" Well, what were you about this time ? :l 
cried Joe, with pretended roughness, as he 
wound up his fishing-line. "I suppose you 



102 /1ELPS OVER IIARD PLACES. 

were dreaming you were a mermaid, and 
were going to sail off in an oyster shell." 

You would have thought this adventure 
would cure Susy of dreaming, and that she 
would set diligently to work, knowing that 
the best kind of fairies to separate bird feath- 
ers, or do sums, and write compositions, are 
Patience and Industry, and they are always 
ready to come if any little girl or boy really 
wants them. 

But Susy had indulged in this sad habit so 
long, that the very next Sunday, as she sat in 
church, thinking of her narrow escape, she 
said to herself, — 

" God was very good to me, and I ought 
to be a Christian. How nice it would be if 
I were just like an angel, and couldn't do 
wrong. Then, wherever I went every one 
would love me, and would say, 'What a sweet 
expression Miss Susan has ! ' and at last, 
wh?n I died, I should go straight to heaven." 
So she never heard what the minister said, — . 
"I love them that love me, and they that seek 
me early shall find me." "My son, my 
cla^ ?hter, give me thine heart." She only 
dr famed that some time she would be very 
good ; and as, on the way home, she spoke 



DREAMING SUSY. 103 

very sharply to Joe for daring to interrupt 
her thoughts, I am quite sure that none of 
the angels would have made such a mistake 
as to think she was on^ of God's children. 

Little children, are any of you dreaming 
like Sus> f 



SUNSHINE AND TEAKFU1 

Who is it springs to catch the ball 

When grandma drops her knitting? 
Who always has a smile for all 

'Mid sunny dimples flitting? 
Who sings, till fretful baby's eyes 

Droop, sweet as half-shut flowers ? 
u Tis 'Sunshine,'" all the household cric-a, 

" This darling child of ours." 

But who walks sullenly alone, 

Tears strung on eye-lid fringes, 
And speaks with such a fretful tone 

That even Ponto cringes ? 
Who never runs, when mother calls, 

With eager feet and cheerful ? 
The answer very sadly fills — 

" Alas ! you must mean i TearfuV " 

What bring the Summer's rosy hands 

esire ? 

1C4 



SUNSHINE AND TEARFUL 105 

Sweet laughing flowers in rainbow bands, 
And birds, half gold, half fire. 

And Winter sighs with softer voice, 
And drops from frozen finger 

Fair wreaths of snow, rare stems of ice. 
Where captive sunsets linger. 

But what does sultry Summer bring 

To fretful little " Tearful "? 
Great thorns on roses, bees that sting, 

And nettles grim and fearful. 
And Winter sends her slippery snow, 

And sets her heart in quivers, 
When dismal night-winds come and go, 

And shake her when she shivers. 

Bright little " Sunshine ! " pleased with all 

That love of God has given ; 
Some time she'll hear an angel call, 

"Dear ' Sunshine,' shine in heaven ! ,: 
But where will go the selfish feet, 

The fretful soul and fearful ? 
No shadoics dim the " golden street " — 

What will become of "Tearful?" 



XI. 

JAMIE'S STRUGGLE. 

u Where's Jamie ? " asked Madge, timidly, 
corning into the room, cheery with its pretty 
crimson coal fire and bright, yellow jets of 
gas light. 

Her cousin looked up coldly at the ques- 
tion, Uncle Gould frowned ominously over 
his paper, and Aunt Gould just said, very 
dryly, — " In his room." 

Madge looked uneasily from one to the 
other, but no single pair of eyes turned upon 
her with sympathy or explanation, and after 
a few moments of irresolution she laicl down 
her school-books and stole from the room. 
In the hall she met the house-maid. 

" Oh ! Bett} r , please tell me, has any thing 
happened? and why didn't Jamie come to 
school this afternoon ? " 

Betty shook her head. "Well, Miss, I don't 
like to grieve you, but your brother has done 
& shocking thing, and if he was a poor boy 

1C6 



jamie's struggle. 107 

now, I suppose he'd be looking through iron 
bars to-night in the county jail!" 

"Oh, Betty! what do you mean?" said 
Madge, turning quite pale. 

"Well, Miss," said Betty, sinking her voice 
to a whisper, "you'd have to know it some 
time, I suppose, and the fact is he's just been 
stealin' money out of master's drawer! — a 
hundred dollars, more or less ! " 

" It isn't so !" cried Madge, in a loud, sharp 
tone, which almost startled herself. "What, 
Jamie steal? It's a wicked lie!" and she 
burst into tears. 

"Very well," said the offended Betty, 
"you'll soon find whether I tell a lie or no. 
I believe he's none too good to be a thief, nor 
you either, with your mincing saint ways." 

But Madge was out of hearing — two steps 
at a time up the broad stairs, till she reached 
a little room at the farther end of the third 
story corridor. She burst in without any 
ceremony, but all was still in the cold winter 
twilight, except the dismal dashing of sleet 
against the window-panes. "Jamie?" she 
called, anxiously. 

At first there was no reply, and then a lit- 
tle movement behind the dingy brown cur- 



108 II K LPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

tains betrayed him, and Madge was at Lis 
side, with her arms flung around his neck. 

"I knew you had heard it all the minute 
you called me," faltered Jamie, trying to 
smile. "I heard the 'tears in your voice,' 
you know ; but you don't believe it? " 

" Never ! ' cried Madge, vehemently. "Now 
tell me all about it. How could any one dare 
to say so ? " 

"I hardly know where to begin," said 
Jamie, with a great effort at self-control. " I'll 
have to tell you something I've been keeping 
secret ever since last summer. You see, when 
cousin Bell had her birthday party last June, 
and all the girls swept around in such pretty 
shining silks, or else dresses half clouds and 
half cobwebs, and you only had that pink 
calico, it hurt me — I don't know why. 
You looked just as sweet as any — the pretti- 
est of all, I thought ; but when Fisher Knight 
said, 'Just look at my sister ! Isn't she pretty ? 
and doesn't her dress look as if she'd bought 
three or four yards of sunset, and had the 
moon up all night sewing stars on it?' then 
the boys laughed, and I said, — 'And isn't 
my sister pretty too?' for you did look as 
ewcet as a rose, I thought; but that proud 



jajiie's struggle. 109 

Fisher Knight laughed just like a kniie — I 
mean it seemed to cut right into me, and he 
said, — 'Oh yes; and how kind Betty was to 
lend her that dress.' Some of the boys said, 
— ' Too bad ! ' but that only hurt me more, 
and I crept away pretty soon, and lay behind 
the thick snow-ball bushes, and looked up 
into the great still sky, and wondered why 
God couldn't have taken you and me too, 
when father and mother died, and not left us 
to come to this proud, rich uncle, who does 
not love us, and who treats us like little beg- 
gars." 

"Oh, don't say so, Jamie," said Madge, sooth- 
ingly ; " I'm sure he's been very kind to us 
sometimes." 

"I don't remember many times just now," 
sighed Jamie. "Well, a little while after that 
I heard Lutie say that her birthday came in 
the winter, and she meant to have a grand 
time, and invite every boy and girl she had 
ever seen. Then I thought to myself, — 
1 Now they will want to dress Madge in some 
ugly brown merino, but I am determined she 
shall look the prettiest of them all.' So I be- 
gan to work after school, doing all kinds of 
little jobs for any body who would hire me, 



110 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

and I never spent any thing for candy or 
marbles, you know, so that all the boys began 
to call me 'miser.' But I didn't mind that, 
because I thought my pleasure was coining 
by and by. The money came very slowly, 
Madge, and often I thought I'd never have 
enough. But when aunt gave me money to 
buy mittens, I just went without and kept 
my hands in my pockets. Then I got con- 
siderable Christmas, you know, and I sold the 
top that Lutie gave me, and altogether, yes- 
terday I found I had just enough to buy what 
I wanted. So Mr. Green, who is always so 
kind to me, excused me from my lessons this 

morning, and I walked all the way to B , 

because I thought I could get nicer things 
there, and, Madge, I bought you the sweetest 
green silk ! it made you think of the woods 
in spring, and I thought when you had it on, 
with your sweet, white face, you would look 
just like a lily coming out of a bed of moss." 

"Dear little Jamie!" cried Madge; "did 
you do all that for me ? I'm so sorry ! You 
know I never care what I wear." 

" Yf.5, I know it," said Jamie ; "and you're 
always lovely to me. I suppose it is because, 
as Mr. Green says, you always wear the jew- 



jamie's struggle. Ill 

els which are of great price in the sight of 
God. I haven't a doubt, Madge, but the an- 
gels think you're the prettiest girl in the 
world, but some way, — I know it's foolish, — I 
wanted to have the boys think so too. 

"Well, when I came back, just as I got to 
the hall door with my bundle, feeling so proud 
that I had earned it all myself, out came 
uncle, looking very red, and storming about 
some money — about twenty dollars, I think 
— that he said he had left in his desk, and 
forgot to lock up last night. Nobody knew 
any thing about it, and I was just going on 
tip-toes up to my room, when he called very 
suddenly, 'What have you got in that bun- 
dle, sir ? ' 'A dress for Madge.' ' A dress for 
Madge ? ' said he, louder yet ; ' let me see it.' 
So I opened it, trying to tell him that I earned 
the money all myself; but as soon as he saw 
the pretty silk, he caught hold of my arm so 
I almost screamed, and said, — c You earned 
money to buy such a dress as that? You 
are telling me a falsehood ! Confess now that 
you took my money.' Then out came Aunt 
Gould, and Belle, and Lutie, and they held 
up their hands, and looked so shocked, and 
wouldn't believe one word I said. Then 



112 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

uncle seemed to try to be kind, and told me 
that if I confessed, and asked his pardon, lie 
would try to forgive it. But I could not tell 
a lie, and only said, over and over, that I 
didn't, couldn't do such a thing, till he called 
me a hardened, obstinate boy, and ordered 
me up to my room. And as for the dress, 
Madge, that I've been thinking about more 
than six months,'— Jamie coughed violently, — 
" I heard Aunt Gould say ' it wouldn't be quite 
a loss, for with a yard, or two more it would 
make a dress for Lutie.' " 

Madge tried to comfort him, but broke 
down. 

"Never mind," said he, at last, patting her 
tear-stained cheek. "I am determined you 
shall have something nice, after all. To-mor- 
row is the skating match, you know, and I 
think I'm sure of the second prize at least, 
and whatever I get shall be given to darling 
Madge." 

" You will be sure to get it," cried Madge, 
\utli eager sympathy. "You've skated ever 
since you could walk;" and she remembered 
with a glow of pride that no one had ever yet 
caught Jamie in a race ; and often, when you 
thought him only playing, he'd be writing his 



jamie's struggle. 113 

name, with this rather clumsy steel pen, on 
the great white page of ice, as handsomely as 
on a leaf of his writing-book. 

"Yes; you'll be sure of the prize, Jamie," 
she said, exultingly, "and I know it wi.l all 
come right with uncle too. I'm going to tell 
him all about it now." 

But, to her great grief, angry Uncle Gould 
would not hear a word. " No, child," he said, 
" no one could make me believe that a boy 
would go without marbles and candies half 
a year to buy his sister a dress. And if he 
did, he never could have saved enough for 
such a handsome silk. Besides, what settles 
the matter, Betty saw him in the library at 
my desk very early this morning, before any 
one was up. It seems a very clear case, 
though it grieves me to say so." 

The next morning, as, after a sleepless night, 
Jamie stole down stairs with his skates, his 
uncle met him in the hall. 

"You can not skate to-day, James," said 
he, almost kindly, as he looked at the boy's 
flushed, worn face. " I feel it but right that 
you should have some punishment for such a 
gfeat fault." 



114 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

"But I did not do it, sir," said Jamie, ira 
ploringly. 

Uncle Gould grew quite stern. "Remem- 
ber that Betty saw you, my child. Either 
confess and ask pardon, or go back to your 
room." 

" Yes, Jamie," said Aunt Gould, appearing 
from the parlor, " you love Madge dearly, and 
no doubt the temptation was very great. We 
have been talking it over, and we wish to be 
as kind as your own father and mother. 
Confess your fault, and, as it is the first time, 
we are all ready to forgive you, and trust 
you once more. And indeed, since it would 
make you so very happy, I will even promise 
to give the dress to Madge." 

" Don't be a prig, Jim," whispered Lutie ; 
"just say you did it, and have it done with." 

What a terrible struggle went on in poor 
Jamie's breast. If he told a lie, there was 
love and forgiveness, the skating jnize and 
the pretty dress; if he told the truth, nothing 
but coldness and contempt, and solitude in 
his dreary room. What a struggle! The 
hot passions raged, and the terrible fire 
burned through his cheeks and eyes. He 
hesitated. Ah ! is he going to love the praise 



jamie's stbugole. 115 

of man more than the praise of God? A 
moment more of silence, and he says firmly,.— 

" I did not do it, uncle. I can not tell a 
lie." 

Poor Jamie spent the day in his room, at- 
tended by Madge, his faithful shadow. They 
heard Belle and Lutie going away merrily 
with their skates, bat, strange to say, they did 
not feel so very miserable, and even smiled 
as their eyes met. 

"Isn't it queer I can be so happy?" said 
Jamie. "If it wasn't for this headache I 
should feel light as a feather." 

" Do you remember that strange verse that 
mother used to say ? " asked Madge : " ' Be- 
hold, we count them happy which endure? I 
believe I understand it better now, Jamie ; 
and what is the rest of it — c Ye have seen 
the end of the Lord, that the Lord is very 
pitiful and of tender mercy.' I am so glad 
you endured it all, Jamie, and who knows 
what the end will be? I am quite certain it 
will all come right at last." 

Jamie tried to smile hopefully, and when- 
ever a vivid remembrance of his heavy disap- 
pointments came over him, he repeated softly 



11G HELPS OVER IIAUD PLACES. 

to himself — '■'■Very pitiful, and of tender 
mercy." 



It is a week after, and the night of Lutie's 
birthday. Madge — can it be possible ? — is 
standing by the piano in that identical green 
silk, though, with that happy flush on her 
cheeks, pho looks more like a moss-rose than 
a lily. And Jamie — was there ever such a 
radiant face? What can have happened? 
But here is Madge, eager to tell you all ; how 
"Aunt Gould found the missing roll of bills 
Caught behind the little drawer, and how 
proud Uncle Gould had actually asked Jamie's 
pardon, and since had treated him almost as 
respectfully as if he had been a grown man, 
and every body was so kind, and she (Madge) 
was so proud ! Oh ! she couldn't begin to 
tell all she felt!" 

But who can express Jamie's happiness? — 
happiness not only that he is again respected 
and loved — that Madge is acknowledged 
sweeter than any other boy's sister — that 
Uncle Gould has already shaken hands with 
him twice that very evening ; but there is a 
deeper joy, the sweet peace, the conscious- 
ness of victory over great temptation. And 



jamie's struggle. 117 

this it is which makes Madge turn from the 
merry, sparkling faces to the sweeter light in 
Jamie's great earnest eyes, and whisper softly, 
— "Behold, we count them happy which en- 
dure" 



XII. 

"IN HONOR PREFERRING ONE ANOTHER." 

Lois Vanderbeeg, with her shawl over 
her head, had been standing at the gate more 
than half an hour, in the chill evening air, 
looking vainly for her little brother, Pierre, 
when suddenly the boy appeared through the 
thick mist as if he had risen out of the earth. 

"Ah, here you are," cried Lois; "how 
slowly you must have walked. Father has 
been waiting an hour for his paper. But come 
now, do hurry in out of the rain. We've got 
a splendid roaring fire for this dreary night, 
and we're going to have hot cakes for tea ! " 

But to this cheery intelligence little Pierre 
only responded, " I'm sure I don't care if we 
are," in such a dismal tone, that, as they en- 
tered the bright fire-lighted kitchen, Lois 
turned upon him a look of great anxiety. 

"I'm afraid you're sick, Pierre," said she, 
seeing very clearly that something had gone 
wrong. 

113 



PREFERRING ONE ANOTHER. 110 

" No, don't trouble me ; I'm only tired." 

Nevertheless, Lois noticed that when he 
had hung away his damp coat and tippet, he 
seated himself by the window as far as pos- 
sible from the bright, cheerful fire, and hid 
his head behind the curtain. 

"Now, Pierre," she whispered, following 
him, " you must tell me what has happened." 

" Don't ask me, sister," said Pierre, melting 
a little ; " I'm ashamed to tell." 

But Lois persisted, and she had such kind, 
"taking" ways, that, as Pierre would have 
told you, she never let down her little bucket 
of sympathy into Pierre's heart without 
drawing up nearly all of his troubles. 

"Well, Lois," said he, slowly, "in the first 
place, you know how anxious father has been 
that I should be < head boy ' at school this 
year, and you know how I've studied early 
and late, and haven't missed a single lesson ? " 

" Yes, indeed," cried Lois. 

" Then you know that Herbert Bell is the 
oniy other boy who has been studying so 
hard, and I'm sure I can remember at least 
three times he has missed this quarter." 

"Yes, well?" 

u Well, to-day, Mr. Simmons asked me to 



120 IIELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

stay a few minutes after school, and when tlio 
scholars were all gone, he said, — 

" * I've been very much pleased with some 
of my scholars lately, and I've been thinking 
I should like to give the one who has the 
most good marks at the end of the quartei 
some reward for his industry and good be- 
havior. Now what should you think a boy, 
about your age, would like best for a present 
this winter ? ' O Lois, you can't think how 
my heart beat ! I thought right away, l I'm 
sure he means mej and I'm afraid he knew 
that I thought so, for it seemed to burn right 
through my cheeks. But in a minute I said, 
just as careless as I could, 'Why, I should 
think, sir, a boy couldn't like any thing better 
than a nice little sled, with iron shoes, and 
painted red,' for you know, Lois, I've wanted 
one three winters, and father never could af- 
ford it, and now * times ' are harder than ever. 
Well, he smiled, and said he should think that 
would please a boy, and then he looked right 
in my face, and said, ' What do you think of 
Herbert Bell? Isn't he about as good a 
scholar as we have in the school ? ' I declare, 
Lois, if my cheeks burned before, I felt this 
time as if my whole head had tumbled off 



PREFERRING ONE A N T II E R . 121 

into the stove, and I was choked with the 
smoke besides. I couldn't speak for a mo- 
ment, but just pretended I had a terrible 
cough, and by and by I just managed to 
say, — 

"'Yes, sir, I don't believe there's a better 
fellow in all the world.' 

" ' That's all right,' said Mr. Simmons, very 
kindly; 'and now I've one more favor to ask 
of you. As you and Herbert are such very 
good friends, your tastes must be something 
alike, and I should like some pleasant Satur- 
day to take you with me to the city, to help 
me pick out just the right kind of a sled, for 
it's a good while since I was a boy, and I'm 
afraid I don't know so much about some 
things as I did then.' 

" I hardly remember what I said, sister, but 
pretty soon I was out on the road, thinking I 
knew just how that wicked old Hainan felt, 
for you see I thought I was the boy Mr. Sim- 
mons delighted to honor, and instead of that 

I must go to B and pick out a pretty 

s'ed for my Mordecai." Pierre's voice shook, 
and leaning his hand against the window, he 
stared out into the dark, rainy night. 

"But, Pierre," said Lois, "I'm sure you're 



12- n i: l r s o v E a ii a RD r l a c e b . 

not at all like that bad Hainan. You cer- 
tainly don't hate your Mordecai." 

"No in Joe.l. sister; there's all the comfort 
there is in the matter." 

" Not at all." cried Lois; "there's some- 
thing more. I think it was a very great 
lienor for Mr. Simmons to consult you about 
the present It Rhowed that he thought you 
bad a noble, generous heart, and wore above 
all feelings of envy and jealousy." 

-•I never U'ought of that? said Pierre, 
brightening: "but then, sister." he added 
more sadly. "T'm pretty sure he saw what I 
was thinking about, and knew just how moan 
I was." 

" Not bo very moan, after all." said Lois, 
smiling. h * f t was kind in you to praise Her- 
bert "— 

M Why. sister," interrupted Pierre, with a 
look of surprise, ki what else could I do '? 
Didn't J have to tell the truth ? " 

"To be sure," said Lois, smiling still more, 
"but I do not believe Mr. Simmons has sueh 
a very noor opinion of you. lie knows very 
woll how hard it is for a boy who has studied 
as \p*»a have, to stand aside, and let some one 
e 1c ie take the first place. Ah, yes, little 



PREFERRING ONE ANOTHER. 123 

Pierre, we all have to struggle very hard and 
pray a great deal before we can very cheer, 
fully ' in honor prefer one another.' " 
" But you can do it at last, sister ? " 
" Oh, yes ; we can so far conquer our self- 
ishness for Christ's sake, that at last we shall 
very much prefer other people's happiness to 
our own." 

Pierre looked thoughtful, but was much 
comforted, and so far reconciled to life, that 
the call to supper and nice hot cakes was by 
no means disregarded. 

One pleasant Saturday, a few weeks after, 
Pierre rushed in with a bright face. 

" Well, sister, it's done at last, I and Mr. 
Simmons have bought the sled, and it's a reg- 
ular beauty. Its name is 'Rocket,' and it's 
the brightest red. Oh, won't Herbert's eyes 
snap ! But now, sister, do you think it was 
wrong for me to wish for one too ? There 
were plenty more beauties in the store, but 
tfiey cost money," and little Pierre sighed. 
" Never mind," he continued bravely, " Her- 
bert is just the best fellow, — and I really do 
think at last, that if only one of us could have 
it, I would rather it should be he, and I think 



124 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

I'll give him my little flag, too, so every tiling 
will be complete, and people will know the 
establishment goes for the 'Union.' And 
oh, sister, I almost forgot, — examination will 
end Wednesday, and I'm to have the honor 
of presenting the sled. But do you know, 
I'm afraid Herbert half suspects, for he is in 
the greatest spirits, and says he knows some- 
thing splendid that's going to happen before 
long. Some of the boys have got hold of it, 
too, I'm sure, for one of them said to-day, 
'There's something going on right under 
your nose, Pierre, but Dutch people never 
get their eyes open till four o'clock.' I was so 
happy I didn't mind it a bit, and only laughed 
to think how much wiser I was than any of 
them." 

The great Wednesday came. Herbert and 
Pierre passed very fine examinations, and at 
the close Pierre arose to deliver the speech 
which had been carefully prepared for the oc- 
casion. 

"Herbert Bell," began Pierre, but (how 
awkward !) there was Herbert coming for- 
ward too, and beginning, — 

" Pierre Vanderberg," — 

"Keep still, Herbert," whispered Pierre. 



PREFERRING ONE ANOTIIER. 125 

" I am to make a speed), and present you 
with a sled/' 

"Just exactly what I am to do for you? 
whispered back Herbert, with a merry laugh. 

Poor bewildered Pierre looked imploringly 
at Mr. Simmons, who, rising, said, — 

" I believe I shall have to decide this mat- 
ter, and say that the sled belongs to Pierre 
Vanderbcrg, who has ten more good marks 
than Herbert." 

" Oh, Mr. Simmons," cried poor Pierre, but 
entirely broke down, while Herbert shook 
his hand as if it were a pump-handle. Lois 
wiped her eyes in a corner, and the boys, 
who were all in the secret, made the old 
school-room shake with a perfect ten: pest of 
applause. 



XIII. 

LITTLE CROSS-BEARERS. 

It was a rosy morning in June, and the sun, 
who had gone to bed very unwillingly the 
night before, clinging to the hill-tops with his 
long, red fingers some time after his honest 
face had disappeared, was back again bright 
and early, and seemed to be full of business. 
He pricked the eyes of the young robins with 
fine golden needles, till they awoke, and 
chirped so shrilly for their breakfast, that the 
poor mother-bird had to stop short in a beau- 
tiful little prayer she was just setting to music, 
and hurry down to see if there were any fresh 
worms in the bird-market. Then he poured 
a shower-bath of light on the heads of the 
sleepy flowers, not forgetting to creep under 
bread leaves, and touch the shy little violets, 
so that the modest blossoms — Cinderellas 
among flowers — nodded their heads to each 
other in glad surprise at their new golden 

m 



LITTLE CROSS-BEAKEUS. 127 

crowns, and whispered, " So we arc to bo 
princesses, after all." 

Then, creeping out again, he met two or 
three little girls in the road, and kissing thera 
right in the eyes, said, — 

" So this is the day for your picnic. I was 
in the woods all day yesterday making ready 
for you. You'll find a path all emerald and 
gold, dry and soft as the parlor carpet, and 
I've hung the rocks with moss and flowers, 
and I looked so hard at the wild strawberries 
that the foolish little things turned red, but 
you won't like them any the less for that." 

The little girls laughed merrily, and hurry- 
ing home, packed their dinner-baskets in such 
haste, that Carrie and Jenny Bell had hardly 
finished their breakfasts, when the whole 
eager party arrived at the garden gate. 

"Why, girls," cried Susy Wright, "not 
ready yet? Do hurry, for it is a long walk, 
and we want to get into the woods before it 
grows much warmer." 

"It won't take me two minutes," cried 
Carrie, but Jenny stood irresolute. 

"I am afraid we oughtn't to go." 

"Why not, pray?" cried Carrie, sharply. 

" Why, you know mother has one of hei 



128 HELPS OVER II A 11 D PLACES. 

bad headaches coming on, and there's Waltei 
and Fred to be taken care of." 

"Well, and there's Sally to do it," said 
Carrie. 

" But you know Sally's sister is very sick, 
and mother has given her leave to go home 
to-day." 

" How provoking ! " said Carrie, fretfully. 
Then she added, after a pause, " But I don't 
believe mother's head is very bad, and I'm 
sure Fred will be good, and Walter would 
help amuse him." 

" Walter is almost a baby himself," said 
Jenny, " and Fred frets almost all the time 
since he's been getting his teeth, poor little 
fellow!" 

" Fred will be good enough if you're not 
here to spoil him," cried Carrie, " and I'll jusi 
go and ask mother if she can't get along with- 
out us. It would be too bad to keep us in 
such a lovely day." 

Carrie was back in a few minutes, with a 
radiant face. " Mother says we may go. She 
can spare us if we are going to enjoy our- 
selves so much." 

Jenny hesitated. The woods in the dis- 
tance looked so misty and pleasant, and 



LITTLE CROSS-BEARERS. 129 

Fred's fretful little cry jarred upon her ear, 
while she thought how hard it would be to 
amuse him, and keep Walter quiet and happy 
through all that warm day. But would it be 
any easier for her mother, left all alone witli 
her aching head? "No," thought Jenny, "I 
can not be so selfish. I should not enjoy my- 
self at all." 

11 What are you thinking about so long?" 
asked Carrie, impatiently. " Come, let's get 
our baskets ready." 

" I believe I won't go," faltered Jenny. 

" Why not ? " cried two or three disap- 
pointed voices. 

" I can't bear to leave mother so sick." 

"What a mean girl you are, Jenny Bell," 
whispered Carrie, angrily. " You want to 
make all the girls think you are sitch a saint, 
and I am so selfish. That's all you're doing 
it for — just to show off." 

" No, indeed, Carrie," said Jenny, coloring 
deeply ; and turning to the girls, she added,— 

" One of us can go just as well as not, and, 
of course, as Carrie is the oldest, she has the 
best right, and, indeed, I do not believe I 
care half as much about it as she does, for she 
has been talking about it all the week." 



.130 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

No persuasion could move Jenny, who only 
shook her head cheerfully, and insisted that 
she did not feel badly at nil, and at last the 
impatient little party moved on. 

After watching them down the road, with 
glistening eyes, for it was really a very great 
trial to be left behind, Jenny went back to 
the nursery, where her mother sat bathing 
her head with camphor, and trying to amuse 
the little complaining Fred with some pic- 
tures. A look of glad surprise came over 
her flushed face, as she heard Jenny's step. 

" I thought you were gone to the woods." 

" No, mother," said Jenny, trying to speak 
carelessly. " I thought I would like to play 
housekeeper to-day; and first I am going to 
put you to bed with your dreadful headache, 
and then Walter and Fred and I are going 
to have a nice time out in the arbor." 

The happy tears came in Mrs. Bell's eyes 
as her kind daughter arranged the pillows 
under her throbbing head, and, darkening the 
room, stole softly out with Fred and Walter. 

But it was no small task that Jenny had 
undertaken. Poor baby Fred bit his fingers 
with his hot, swollen gums, but as that did 
not make matters any better, he threw away, 



LITTLE CR OSS- BE A REUS lol 

one after another, flowers, books and play- 
things, which patient Jenny brought, and 
was quite determined to be a very unhappy 
little baby. Then Walter was full of mis- 
chief, and could only be kept still with stories, 
which poor Jenny told industriously, walking 
up and down the garden walk, carrying baby 
Fred till she thought her arms would drop 
off. 

Once in a while a vision crossed her of the 
happy party seated in the shady woods, 
making crowns, and eating wild strawberries, 
but she pushed it bravely aside, and kept on 
her tiresome walk, only thinking to herself 
that if mother was having a nice rest, she 
could bear it a little longer. 

The sun grew very hot, but little tyrant 
Fred would not be carried into the housej 
and as poor Jenny, turning in the path, was 
just beginning her seventh story, she saw a 
gentleman at the garden gate. 

" Could you give me a drink of water, little 
lady?" said he, pleasantly, and Jenny, en- 
cumbered by the clinging Fred, soon brought 
a cool, brimming goblet. 

" You look tired," said the gentleman kindly 
as he thanked her, and before she knew it — 



132 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

drawn on by his sympathizing questions — 
she had told him all the story of the morn, 
ing's trials and disappointments, though for 
some reason, she hardly understood herself, 
6he never told him she had a sister Carrie, 
who had gone to the woods. They had quite 
a pleasant talk together, and at last, when 
the gentleman went his way, he said, — 

" I like you so much, little Jenny, that I 
don't want you to forget me ; " and drawing 
from his pocket a small book, he begged her 
to keep it in memory of his visit, and with a 
bright, kind smile, he was gone. 

The day wore on. At noon Jenny made 
a nice cup of tea for mother, and after feeding 
baby with his bread and milk, and giving 
busy Walter his dinner, to her great joy, 
both children, overcome with heat and fa- 
tigue, fell fast asleep. 

Now she had time to examine her little 
book, which she found very strange and in- 
teresting. It told about some pilgrims, going 
on a long journey, with heavy crosses on their 
backs. They had a great many trials, and 
often their way lay through hot, sandy deserts, 
so that some of them grew very tired and 
sad, and some tried to throw away tbcil 



LITTLE CKOSS-BEARERS. 133 

crosses, but others went on very patiently, 
always looking as if they saw something 
so beautiful just a little way before them, 
that they forgot all present sorrow and trouble. 
So the story went on, till the pilgrims all 
came to a very dark valley, through which 
they must pass. Then some of them trem- 
bled and grew pale, but others went in sing- 
ing, and some of the words of their song 
were, "Though I walk through the valley of 
the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for 
Tho? art with me," and suddenly, while they 
were singing, the heavy crosses fell from their 
backs, and in their stead angels brought them 
shining crowns. And there came a voice, 
" Father, I will that these whom Thou hast 
given me, be with me where I am, that they 
may behold my glory." Then the whole 
valley was filled with light, the angels 
shouted, " They shall see the King in his 
beauty," and the happy pilgrims passed 
through the everlasting gates into the golden 
city. 

Jenny's tears fell fast as she finished tho 
strange little book, which she could not quite 
understand. 

" My sweet little daughter," said a voice, 



1 34 HELPS OVER IIARD PEACES. 

and looking up, she saw her mother coming 
in at the door, and knew from her eyes that 
the bad headache was quite gone. "You 
have made me very happy," continued Mrs. 
Bell, kissing Jenny's round cheeks. "You 
have been so self-sacrificing and patient to- 
day, that I am sure my prayers have been 
heard, and that one of my little daughters is 
learning to take up her cross daily and follow 
Christ." 

"Mother," said Jenny, eagerly, "do you 
mean that I am a cross-bearer ? " 

" You certainly have been to-day," said her 
mother, with an affectionate smile. 

Jenny burst into happy tears, and held 
out her little book. They read it over to- 
gether, and Jenny's mother explained it. 

"And will all that ever happen to me?" 
said Jenny. 

" Yes, if you take up your cross daily, and 
bear it patiently, you, too, shall see the King 
in his beauty." 

Carrie came home very cross that night. 
She knew she had been selfish, and nothing 
had gone right all day, while there sat Jenny, 
looking so wonderfully happy. What could 



LITTLE CROSS-BEARERS. 1 o5 

be the reason ? ' "Was she doing it to be pro- 
voking ? 

The little party stopping at the gate were 
very voluble, telling Jenny of the pleasures 
of the day. " They never had such a splen- 
did time, and had never seen the woods so 
beautiful, and so full of birds and flowers.' 
But not one of the party was as happy as tho 
patient little cross-bearer, for the angels were 
singing, "She shall see the King in his beauty,- 
and the land that is very far oif." 



XIV. 

THE LITTLE PJLGRIM. 

% w Dear little one," the mother cried, " Oh, 
haste ; 
Thou must go far before the day be closing. 
And take this broth to please old Susan's 
taste ; 
But softly go, nor startle her reposing ; 
Perhaps the poor old woman will be dozing." 

lie sweeps his bright curls 'neath his crimson 

cap, 
His sweet eyes dance beneath their silken 

lashes ; 
" Yet stay, dear child ; if there should chance 

mishap, 
The sun so faintly through the cloud-rift 

flashes, 
And on the rocks the surf all moaning 

dashes." 

136 



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 137 

"Dear mother, I'll be Great-Heart, do not 
fear; 
My giants will be trees with frost- wreaths 
hoary, 
And if the shadows fall before I'm here, 

I'll think as he did in that sweet old story, — 
That just beyond them lies the gate of glory." 

The heavy clouds rolled darkening from the 
west, 

In angry fire the wintry day was dying, 
No child was resting on the mother's breast, 

As still she listened to the wild wind sighing, 
And heard the sullen breakers hoarse replying. 

She prayed, "O Father, do thine angels 
stand 
On earth's far corners, now so dim and 
dreary ? 
Oh, bid them hold these winds, that over land 
And sea they blow not, with their sob- 
bings eerie ; 
They frighten him, his little feet grow weary." 

The child came smiling through the blinding 
storm, 
He thought the whirling snow but angels, 
bringing 



li>8 HELPS OYER HARD PLACES. 

Fair spiritr-robes to deck his waxen form. 
The wild wind softened to a low, swtet 
singing, 
And through the air strange golden bells 



The mother wandered, crying through the 
night, 
" Oh, guide him home, this child thy love 
has given." 
Then swept an angel, glowing from God's 
light, 
And smiled so soon to find the child storm- 
driven, 
Though such as he are never far irom heaven. 

She knelt beside him in the morning mist, 
Above him rev'rent leaned the tree-tops 
hoary, 
The lips were smiling Death so lately kissed, 
For night was passed, as in the sweet old 
story, 
And just beyond it lay the gate of glory. 



XV. 

THE LONG NIGHT. 

It was the close of a warm day in the lat- 
ter part of August, and little Franz Hoffruus- 
ter was playing in the cottage door with his 
baby sister Karine. His older sister Therese 
was busy clearing away the evening meal, and 
his brother Robert was industriously carving 
curious wooden spoons, and knives and forks, 
to sell to travelers whom his father might 
guide over the mountains ; for you must 
know that these four children lived in a lit- 
tle Swiss chalet, or cottage, at the foot of 
some famous mountains; and when little 
Franz lifted his eyes, he did not see a row 
of nice brick houses, three stories high, but, 
instead of these, high mountains stretched 
their grand old heads up into the very sky. 
The mother of those little Swiss children had 
died more than a year ago ; and as they were 
poor, sister Therese, who was only twelve 

139 



140 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

years old, had been the little housekeepei 
ever since. 

Now, when I tell you that the father had 
gone to guide some travelers over the moun- 
tains, and would not be back till the next 
day, I think you will feel quite well ac- 
quainted with this pleasant family, and will 
like to hear a little more about them. It was 
sunset, and Franz, quite tired of play, leaned 
his head against Therese's knee, and fixed his 
gentle bine eyes upon the glittering mountain- 
tops. 

" Do you remember, brother," said she, at 
length, " what the little English boy's father 
said, the night he was here ? " 

"No. What did he say?" 

" Why, we were looking at the sunset, and 
it was just as beautiful as it is to-night; for it 
seemed as if all the mountain-tops were on 
fire, and you could imagine the strangest 
things. At last I thought it must be like 
some of the grand, far-away cities of which 
the travelers so often talk. So I went up to 
the good gentleman and said, — 

" 'Does it look like London, sir? ' 

"I do not think he heard me; for he just 
kept his eyes fixed upon the mountains, and 



THE LONG NIGIIT. 14.1 

he locked as if lie saw something \ery won- 
derful a great way off. And while I was try- 
ing to think what it was, he stretched out his 
hands so slowly, and said, softly, — 

" ' Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be 
ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors, and the 
King of Glory shall come in.' These were 
the very words, for I learned them afterwards 
from my little book." 

"Well," broke in little Franz, breathlessly, 
"what happened then? Did you see any 
door or gate, sister, and did any king come 
in?" 

" No," said Therese, thoughtfully. "I could 
not think what the good gentleman meant ; 
for he only looked straight into the beautiful 
red sunset, and I had seen it just the same 
often before. But he looked so long and so 
earnestly that I began to be afraid that some- 
thing was going to happen. So I took hold 
of his hand and said, ' Please, sir, do you 
see any gate, and will the king soon come 
through?' 

I had to ask him two or three times before 
he heard me; and then ho looked down so 
kindly, and smiled with his eyes, but did not 
Bay an}' thing at first. So I asked again, — 



142 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

" ' Is it your king, sir ? ' 

"'Yes, little Therese, my King,' said he. 

"'Is it the king of England?' I asked. 

"'No;' and he smiled a little more 

"'The king of France?' 

"'No.' 

"'Ah! the king of Sweden, then?' 

"'No, little Therese,' said he. 'It is tho 
« King of Glory."' 

"'And where is "Glory," sir?' I asked. 
' Is it fir away behind the mountains, and is 
it very near England ? ' 

"'No,' said he, smiling more and more. 
'It is no nearer England than Switzerland. 
But all good people are coming towards it 
every day, and the journey will not be long; 
but bad people are always going farther and 
farther away.' " 

" Well, sister," said Franz, slowly, " I tried 
to do right to-day. Neighbor Ulrich was 
just going up the mountain with his mule? 
and a heavy load of bread and fruit, when 
the mule fell, and every thing tumbled over 
the ground. Ah, how angry he was ; and 
when I first ran up, he struck at me with his 
whip, for he thought I only meant to trouble 
him." 



THE LONG NIGHT. 143 

" The cross old fellow," interrupted Robert. 
"I would have thrown everything over the 
rocks if I had been there." 

" Ah, no," said the gentle Therese. " Then 
you would have been as bad as he. I hope 
you were kind, little Franz." 

" Yes," said Franz, " after a while. But at 
first, all sorts of bad thoughts came tumbling 
into my head, and I wanted to call him an 
ugly name. But I held my breath, just as 
you told me, sister, and shut my teeth hard ; 
and pretty soon I felt sorry for him again, and 
helped him till every thing was picked up." 

"And what did he say then?" asked The- 
rese. 

"Oh! he said I was not as bad as some 
boys." 

" The old curmudgeon ! " cried Robert. 
" Not so bad as some boys, indeed ! Were 
those all the thanks you got ? " 

"Well," said Therese, soothingly, "he i3 a 
poor, lonely man, and has no children to love 
him and make him smile. I am very glad 
Franz helped him." 

"Do you think I came any nearer to 
Glory?" whispered Franz, with great ear- 
nestness. 



144 HELPS OVLP. HARD PLACES. 

"I hope you did," replied Therese. "But 
Robert must not be left behind. We must 
ask the great King to guide us, and to-mor- 
row we will all go on together." 

" The gates are shutting up now, are they 
not, sister?" said little Franz, as the beauti- 
ful rosy light paled in the west, and the old 
mountain-tops stood cold and solemn against 
the clear sky. 

" Let us go in," added Robert. " The night 
wind is cold from the ravines, and I'm sleepy 
and tired." 

"And I," said little Franz, rubbing his 
misty blue eyes. 

Karine was already sleeping, with her fat 
hand under her rosy cheek; and in a short 
time the cottage door was bolted, and all 
these little children, snug in their beds, were 
on their way to dream-land. 

Therese had not slept very long, when she 
felt a sudden shock, as if something had 
struck the little chalet and made it tremble 
all over. 

"What is that?" murmured little Franz, 
dreamily. 

"Is it morning already?" sighed poor tired 
Robert, 



THE LONG NIGHT. 145 

But Therese did not know what it could 
be ; and while she was still trying to think, 
her heavy eyelids drooped, and she was soon 
fast asleep. 

Two or three times she awoke again, and 
wondered if it were not almost morning ; but 
it was dark as midnight, and she would try 
to compose herself again. But at last she 
became so broad awake that she rose up in 
bed and tried to look around the room. " It 
must be a very dark night," she thought to 
herself, "for almost always the stars give a 
little light. I wonder how I happened to 
wake so early." 

Just then little Franz spoke, in a very 
weary voice, — " Dear Therese, when will it 
be morning ? It is the very longest night I 
ever knew." 

"So I think," cried Robert. "I've been 
awake half a dozen times, and now I mean 
to get up." 

" Oh, no," pleaded Franz. Let us tell sto- 
ries till daylight." So Therese, Robert and 
Franz each told a long story; and just as 
they finished, Karine, waking up, cried loudly 
for her breakfast. 

"I don't wonder that she is hungry," said 
10 



146 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

Franz, "for I am half starved, and cold 
too." 

"Ah," sighed Therese, " if we only had a 
light." But they could not find any, for theii 
father kept all such things in a little cup- 
board in the wall, and had taken the key 
with him. 

So Therese searched until she found some 
milk for Karine, and some black bread, which 
she gave to her brothers. 

Then, as they could no longer sleep, they 
all dressed as well as they could in the dark. 

"I will go out," said Robert, "and see if I 
can discover any signs of morning." 

So he took down the heavy bar, when, to 
his surprise, the door flew open, and he found 
himself upon the floor, half buried in some 
cold substance. 

"Oh, Therese! Franz!" cried Robert, 
"come help me." 

"What can it be?" exclaimed all three, as 
they helped him upon his feet. 

""Why, this is snow," cried little Franz, 
putting a handful to his mouth. 

"Uow can that be," exclaimed Therese, 
u when it was so pleasant a few hours ago ? " 

Foi a few moments there was a profound 



THE LONG NIGHT. 147 

silence ; then Robert gave a quick, sharp 
cry,— 

" Oli, Thcrcse ! Could it be an avalanche?" 

"No, no," said Therese, in a trembling 
voice. "That can not be, or the roof would 
have fallen in, and we all have been crushed 
to death." 

" No," said Robert. " I have heard father 
say that small ones sometimes fall so lightly 
that sleeping families have never been dis- 
turbed. But then I remember a noise in the 
night" 

"And I," said Therese. 

" And I," echoed frightened little Franz. 

"What can we do?" asked Therese, as 
firmly as she could. 

"Will not father dig us out?" sobbed 
Franz. 

"I'm afraid he can not find us." 

"Well," said Robert, "I will try and dig 
through to the light;" and finding an old 
shovel, he hurried to the door, and began to 
work manfully. But it was all in the dark, 
and the snow fell over him till he was half 
dead with cold and fatigue. Several times 
he tried again ; but as soon as he dug a little 
away, the snow was sure to fall down and fill 



143 HELPS OVER HA ED PLACES. 

it up; so at last he came in, saying, despair* 
ingly, " Well, Therese, if father does not find 
us, we must die down here in the dark." 

" If I could only see you, sister," said 
Franz, in a choking voice, " I should not 
mind it so much." 

"Let us hold each other's hands," proposed 
Therese, and they all huddled together by 
little Karine. 

At first they were quite cheerful, and said 
often, " Oh, father will certainly find us." 
But the long hours dragged on, and all was 
still as the grave. Poor Karine cried very 
hard, for she could not understand why it 
was so dark, and she could not see the sweet 
smile of her little sister-mother. 

But you would be very tired if I should 
tell you all these little children said and did 
through this long night. How often they 
prayed to the King of Heaven for help, how 
kind and gentle they tried to be, and how 
they denied themselves food that little Karine 
might not be hungry. But at last there was 
nothing left to eat. Karine was too tired and 
weak to cry any more, and only once in a 
while made a little grieving moan. Robert 
had not spoken for a long time, not since h<? 



THE LOSO NIGHT. 1 »!* 

had said, wildly, — "Oh, Therese, Therese, I 
can not, can not die ! " and threw himself sob- 
bing upon his bed. But little Franz, who 
was becoming very ill, said some very strange 
things, so that Therese could not help weep- 
ing, when he whispered, sadly, — 

" All dark, no sun, no moon, no stars. Sis- 
ter, when will the King of Glory come in?" 

Suddenly a sound broke the stillness — a 
sound upon the roof. " What is that ? " cried 
Robert, starting eagerly to his feet. 

There were several heavy blows, and then 
a ray of bright, beautiful sunshine came flash- 
ing through a hole in the wall, and a voice 
exclaimed, — 

" Little Franz Hoffmuster, are you there ? " 

Franz could not speak ; but Robert gave a 
wild shout and hurrah. "Yes, yes, neighbor 
Ulrich, here we all are ! " and in a few mo- 
ments the room was filled with kind neigh- 
bors, who bore the little famished children 
out into the dear light and air, where their 
fith er, who had dropped down from fatigue, 
was awaiting them with great anxiety. I 
can not tell you of all the tears and embraces 
that were showered upon these children. But 
it would have done your heart good to see 



150 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

cross old neighbor Ulrich, holding little Franz, 
and feeding him as tenderly as if he had been 
his mother. And, oh ! how beautiful the 
world looked to them all. 

"My dear children," said their father, "God 
has been very kind to you, and has saved you 
from very great peril ; but next to him you 
must thank kind neighbor Ulrich, who has 
given himself no rest, but, when others were 
discouraged, has always said, "Work on, 
work on, there is a boy worth saving down 
here." 

Robert blushed, as he remembered his 
unkind words ; but Therese looked at Franz 
with a sweet smile. 

Little Franz turned and kissed the rough 
cheek of neighbor Ulrich ; then, clasping his 
hands, looked up to the clear sky and said, 
softly, — 

"Help me always to please thee, dear King 
of Glory." 



XVI. 

"MORNING GLORY." 

u Morning Gloey " was the youngest of a 
large family of brothers and sisters, and al- 
though already nearly ten years old, she was 
still the pet and baby of the house. She had 
a cheerful, sunshiny face, and as many pleas- 
ant, winning ways as any little girl that ever 
lived. Perhaps this was because she had 
such a large, warm heart — so full of love for 
every body and every thing that God has 
made. 

I ought to tell you that her real name was 
" Grace Campbell," but her brothers and sis- 
ters had given her the name of "Morning 
Glory," because they could never catch her 
in bed after sunrise. She thought the world 
was never so beautiful as when it was just 
waking up in the cool, clear morning. So 
her ears caught the first faint twitter of the 
birds, while they were yet only talking in 

151 



152 HE LP 3 OVER IIA.HD PLACES. 

their sleep ; and the first beam from the " ey* 
lids of the morning" kissed Graccy's wide 
awake eyes, as she bounded across the clove* 
fields, on a visit to her favorite little scolding 
brook. This busy little stream was " Morn- 
ing Glory's" special delight. She liked to 
watch it forcing its way in amongst the big 
stones, here murmuring and complaining a 
little, and a little farther on tossing up show- 
ers of diamonds and pearls, and then going 
on more quietly, singing a contented little 
song, and finally dripping into a cool shadowy 
basin with a sound like a chime of fairy bells. 
By the brook grew violets and lilies, and 
Grace never failed to come home laden with 
the dewy treasures. 

One morning, as she came bounding up the 
garden path with fresh, glowing cheeks, sing- 
ing some favorite song, brother Tom (who 
is " grown up " and ought to be ashamed to 
be so lazy) opened his sleepy eyes, and for a 
moment was vexed with the racket. But as 
he heard more clearly, lie smiled, and said, — 
" Ah, it is only « Morning Glory.' " Then he 
turned his window-blind to catch a glimpse 
of his little flower-crowned sister, and to heai 



"morning glory " 153 

more plainly the words of her song. It was 

this : — 

" All the golden hours of morning 
Singing only this sweet lay — 
Singing of morning, morning only 
In that country far away." 

"Dear Sky-lark," shouts brother Tom, 
" why do you sing of the ' country far away ? ' 
Isn't the morning beautiful enough here f " 

" Yes," replied the child ; " but I like to sing 
about that other land, for Mr. Mayfield says 
it is a great deal lovelier than this, because it 
is always morning, and God is there." 

"I thought God was every where," said 
teasing brother Tom. 

"Well, so he is," returned "Morning 
Glory," twisting her rosy fingers, "but we 
can't see him here. We can't see him till 
we're 'pure in heart.'" 

" Well ! don't you ever see him then ? " 
cried Torn, with an air of great surprise. 

" Oh, Tom ! " cried the puzzled child, " what 
do you mean ? I must die first, you know. 
But," continued she, after a moment, "I can 
see God's thoughts now." 

" What do you mean r " exclaimed Tom, 
puzzled in his turn. 



151 HELPS OYER EL ART PLACES. 

"Why, Mr. Mayfield says that God tliii.ks 
of every thing we sec. He thinks of a tree, 
and makes it. I think bad thoughts and silly 
thoughts, but God thinks flowers and birds." 
She held up her violets. " Mr. Mayfield says 
these are God's thoughts, though he has far 
greater ones, for sometimes he thinks stars 
and suns, and every thing that is beautiful 
and grand. And just think, if his thoughts 
are so great, how very wonderful he must 
be!" 

"I think Mr. Mayfield takes good care of 
the ' lambs of the flock ; ' you are really be- 
coming very wise. But now, Pet," pursued 
brother Tom, " I don't think that old brown 
hill off there is very pretty." 

" I do," said the child, persistently. 

" Well, I'm sure I can think of a better 
tree than that crooked old stump at the end 
of the pasture." 

" I won't talk with you any more," said 
"Morning Glory," turning away with a 
grieved face. 

" Wait just one moment," cried Tom, with a 
comical look. " If all the thoughts are beau- 
tiful, Gracey, I suppose I must be very lovely 
too." 



"MORNING GLORY." 155 

Gracey looked doubtfully at the sunburnt 
face and slightly reddish hair, and gravely 
rejoined, "Well, Tom, mother says you used 
to be a dear little baby, and I suppose you 
must have been handsome when God first 
thought of you." 

A shout from the adjoining windows, and 
the sudden appearance of sundry heads be- 
longing to the merry brothers and sisters, an- 
nounced that the conversation had been over- 
heard ; and the unanimous decision was, that 
the victory remained with little "Morning 
Glory," and big brother Tom was completely 
vanquished. 

Gracey went off to finish her morning walk, 
but her mind was not quite at ease. " Could 
brother Tom or any one else think of trees, 
or hills, or flowers, more beautiful than those 
that God made ? " She threw herself down 
on the arbor seat, and thought gravely, with 
her round chin resting on her dimpled hand. 

Suddenly every thing became confused, 
and although she rubbed her eyes over and 
over again, [ill around her looked strange and 
unnatural. " Where am I ? " cried " Morning 
Glory," " and what is the matter ? " 

" We have been making a new earth " said 



15G HELPS OYER HARD PLACES. 

a voice at Iter side, " and you will find it i 
great deal better than the old one." 

"Dear me!" thought "Morning Glory/ 
" I'm sure I shan't like it half so well ; " and 
she looked around with great anxiety. 

Before her stretched a vast expanse of 
strange, bright flowers, but, although they 
were very curious, she did not feel quite sat- 
isfied ; and when the wind passed by and 
tossed her curls over her cheek, she noticed 
that not a leaf in the flower-beds stirred. 
" Why don't they nod their heads when the 
wind passes by?" cried "Morning Glory." 
" Oh ! " replied the voice, " so many flowers 
are snapped off by the wind that we have 
made the stems very strong and stiff — they 
wouldn't break in a hurricane. It's a greai 
improvement." 

"Morning Glory" shook her head doubt- 
fully. "And what is the matter with the 
grass? Why doesn't it turn pale, and look so 
pretty and frightened when the wind brushes 
past?" 

" We thought it best to have the wrong 
Hide just as green as the other, and then it 
won't look faded," replied the voice. 

"It seems so dead," sighed "Morning 



151 



Glory," " like the grass in sister Mary's paint- 
ing. Where are the crickets and grasshop- 
pers, and where are the little tears that the 
grass weeps in the night because the sun is 
gone so long?" 

"Oh, we have forgotten those little things," 
said the voice; " they are not of much conse- 
quence." 

" Indeed they are," said " Morning Glory," 
almost crying; and she ran off to look for the 
little brook. As she drew near she missed 
the usual merry babble, and looking with 
growing consternation she found it no longer 
hurrying along as if it had so much to do and 
not a moment to lose. All the stones had 
been carefully removed, and there was only a 
deep, smooth bed, along which the brook 
moved as if it had suddenly become old and 
tired. She missed especially that big stone 
in the center against which the little stream 
used to rush so determinedly, and then, be- 
cause it couldn't go through, would take such 
a leap up into the sunshine, turning all into 
rainbows and golden mist, and then running 
on with such a sweet music, to tell all the 
banks how it conquered. 



158 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

"Dear brook," sighed "Morning Glory,* 
" why are you so changed and silent ? " 

" The brook made too much noise," replied 
the voice. " Listen to the birds, and you 
will have music enough." 

Grace listened, and heard a curious-looking 
red-breast sing very correctly the " bird waltz," 
which sister Carrie played on the piano. 
Then followed other melodies equally famil- 
iar; but, although very wonderful, her lip be- 
gan to quiver. " I like their own songs best," 
cried " Morning Glory ; " for she missed the 
faint twittering of the little nestlings, and 
those sweet, sudden gushes of melody, as if 
the birds were so full of happy, grateful life, 
they could not possibly help telling all the 
world of it. 

She missed a great many more little musi- 
cians, who were very dear to her. There 
was no busy humming-bee, no lazy droning 
flies floating in the sunshine. So many things 
seemed forgotten. All was so unfinished, 
even to the strange shadows creeping over 
the bright flowers. She looked up in the 
sky, and saw such curious clouds, round and 
square, with sharp, hard edges, not at all like 



"morning glory." 159 

the soft, misty wreaths she used to love to 
watch. And then the sun was so dim ! 

" It must be evening," sighed " Morning 
Glory;" "perhaps it will be better in the 
morning." 

" This is morning," cried the voice, " and a 
very fine one too." 

"And shall we never have a pleasanter 
morning than this?" 

" Never," replied the voice. 

"Morning Glory" burst into tears, and 
sobbed so hard that she — awo7ce, and found 
brother Tom standing by in great astonish- 
ment. 

" Seems to me," cried he, "there is an un- 
usual amount of dew on the 'Morning Glory.'" 

But Gracey started to her feet, and looked 
eagerly around. 

There was the soft, velvety grass, all alive 
with dew drops, and crickets, and grasshop- 
pers. There were the tall, proud flowers 
tossing their graceful heads, and the violets 
ready to courtesy when she ran past. There 
were the pure, soft clouds drifting and melt- 
ing into the clear sky, and far in the distance 
she heard the little brook laughing and scold- 
ing as merrily as ever. Just then a bird upon 



160 HELPS OVER II A ED PLACES. 

a tree near by turned his graceful head on 
one side, and, looking straight in her blue 
eveS) — which he probably took for a piece of 
blue sky, — sang with such a triumphant burst 
of melody, that " Morning Glory " clapped her 
hands and cried, — 

" Oh ! it was all a dream ! I am so glad ! 
God made the world ! His thoughts are the 
best. He made this beautiful, beautiful morn- 
ing !" 

" What a curious little sister," exclaimed 
Tom, as he- caught her up, and carried her in 
to the breakfast-table. Here he insisted upon 
hearing the dream, which accordingly " Morn- 
ing Glory" told with great animation. As 
she finished with the triumphant assertion 
that brother Tom could never think of any 
thing so beautiful as the morning God had 
made, papa smiled half sadly, and said, — 

"I wish it could be always morning for our 
little Gracey." 

" Morning Glory " looked puzzled. 

"Papa means that by and by you will grow 
old," said sister Mary. 

" Yes," cried Tom, " the color will all fade 
nut, and you'll get to be a poor, withered 
' Morning Glory. 5 " 



"MORNING GLORY." 1C1 

« Yes/' continued Carrie, " now is the morn- 
ing of life with you, but by and by it will be 
evening." 

" Morning Glory's " troubled face gradually 
brightened, and, looking up with a sweet 
smile, she quoted these lines from a beautiful 

poem : — 

" I shall go home at evening, 
But find it morning there." 

No one spoke for a few minutes, and then, 
with something very like a tear softening his 
mischievous eyes, Tom said, tenderly, — 

" I suppose she will always be a c Horning 
Glory: " 



XVXI. 

PLAIN LITTLE PATTY. 

One bright December morning, Patty, the 
j.oor cobbler's only daughter, was busy as 
usual, sweeping out the small shop, and put- 
ting every thing nicely to rights. The tea- 
kettle was boiling, and the table neatly set 
in the little back kitchen, and as soon as her 
work was done she could call her father, and 
have a nice comfortable breakfast of tea and 
bread and butter. But still Patty lingered. 
She had only to open the door, and brush out 
the sill, and sweep the bricks nicely down to 
the gutter; but still she stood irresolute as 
much as five minutes, with one hand on the 
latch and the other nervously pulling at her 
straight wiry hair. At last, with sudden de- 
termination, she flung the door open, and 
looking anxiously up and down the street, 
began to sweep vigorously. It was almost 
done, and Patty's brow had lightened very 
much, when she heard behind her a voice 

162 



PLAIN LITTLE PATTY. 1 03 

which made her start, flush violently red, and 
then nervously put one small hand over the 
little pug nose, which had turned a bright 
scarlet in the sharp winter air. 

"Ah, good morning, Miss Griffin!" cried 
the shrill voice. "You are as charming a3 
ever, I see. But don't hold your hand quite 
so close to that nose, — you'll be burnt, I'm 
sure. Besides, it's a shame to cover up such 
a neat little pot-hook. How handy you must 
find it, when you go after water, to hang the 
pail on it. And then you need never be afraid 
of spilling any thing on your dress, for that 
big mouth would be sure to catch it all." 
And the little girl danced around tauntingly, 
just out of reach of Patty's broom. 

Poor Patty ! She had borne all this very 
bravely almost every day since Margot had 
moved into the neighborhood; but this 
morning she felt very nervous and sensitive, 
and as the thought rushed upon her, " I cer- 
tainly am the homeliest girl in all the world," 
her small hand fell hopelessly from her queer 
little nose, and, with great tears in her gray 
eyes, she looked pitifully at her tormentor. 

"How very good God had been to Mar- 
got. He had given her a beautiful whito 



1G-1 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

skin, and straight features, and soft, coiling 
hair, and when the December wind came 
flinging a great splash of vermillion right on 
her (Patty's) queer little knob of a nose, he 
only painted Margot's cheeks with the sweet- 
est color in the world. But she (Patty) was 
as brown as — as brown as her old stuff dress, 
and — Oh, she didn't know how to bear it!" 
and she turned hurriedly to go in, and crawl 
under the counter, and have a good cry. 

" Wait a minute ! " screamed Margot, as 
Patty reached the door. "Do be careful 
about opening that mouth too wide, or your 
head might fall in ! " 

The squeaking of the door drowned the 
great sob that burst from Patty's breast as 
she entered the shop, or her poor half-blind 
father would have known something had gone 
wrong. As it was he only said. — 

"Come, little daughter, isr't it very late? 
Shan't we read our chapter, and then have 
breakfast?" 

So Patty smothered her grief, and put off 
crawling under the counter till a more con- 
venient season ; and while her father read 
some of the beautiful words of Jesus, she 
grew quite calm, although the tears camo 



PLAIN LITTLE PATTY 165 

again to her eyes, and she shook her head 
quite hopelessly, as she read, — 

" But I say unto you, love your enemies, do 
good to them that hate you, and pray for 
them which despitefully use you and persecute 
you." 

" What is the use of trying to love any 
body ? " said Patty bitterly to herself. " No 
one will ever love me, — Margot said so, — 
because I am so homely;" — and again the 
tears fell fast, as Patty poured out tea and 
made toast for her father. 

"Thanks, kind little daughter," said the 
cobbler, as she placed the simple food before 
him. "You make me think of your dear 
mother. She had a lovely face, and I think 
you look like her, Patty." 

Patty started, and a smile of sweet surprise 
almost transfigured the large mouth ; but it 
died suddenly as it came. 

" Father is half blind," she said to herself. 
" He hasn't the least idea how I really look. 
He has never heard Margot talk, and he 
doesn't know that I'm a ( griffin,' and a ' black 
spider,' and a ' monkey,' and a \ toad/ Father 
is the only one that loves me." And poor 
Patty wondered if it was very wicked and 



166 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES 

selfish to be glad that father couldn't see any 
better. 

After the breakfast things were cleared 
away, Patty went up to her room, and looked 
at herself sorrowfully in the little cracked 
glass, — heavy, red-rimmed eyes, little turn- 
up nose, big mouth, and stiff, short hair. It 
was very sad indeed ; and, filling upon her 
knees, Patty prayed that " God would bless 
her too, — would make her grow just a little 
pretty, or would do something to make her 
a little happier." And I think the prayer 
was heard, though Patty was quite discour- 
aged through the greater part of the day. 
Margot came every little while to make faces 
at the shop window, where Patty sat patient- 
ly binding shoes ; and once sh e brought two 
or three other girls and boys, to whom she 
showed Patty, as if she were a great fright 
and curiosity, and they threw up their hands, 
and rolled their eyes, and almost fell over, as 
it' they were very much terrified indeed. 

All this was very hard to bear ; but bravo 
Patty kept it to herself, and would not grievo 
her old father, who sat cheerfully but pain* 
fully over his work. 

But toward night, when it was getting al« 



PLAIN LITTLE PATT1. 107 

most too dark to see, Patty suddenly heard 
a terrible cry, and, catching up her blanket 
shawl, she ran to the door, when what should 
she see but Margot, running up the street 
with loud screams, and the front of her dress 
all on fire. For a moment some very wicked 
thoughts came in Patty's head. " Her pretty 
face will all be gone now," she said. " The 
cruel fire will make long red seams in her 
soft skin, her pretty curls will shrivel up, and 
she will look more like a toad than I do. 
And I can't help her," continued Patty, try- 
ing to excuse herself. " What could such a 
little girl as I do : I should only burn too.' 7 
All these thoughts were as swift as a flash of 
lightning, and in another moment, Patty could 
never tell how it happened, but she found 
herself running right up to poor, wretched 
Margot, with her shawl all spread out. With 
all her strength she threw Margot on the 
ground, and pressed the shawl tightly down 
all around her; and before the other neigh- 
bors could get to her, the flames were quite 
smothered in the thick woolen folds ; and 
Margot was taken home, very much fight « 
ltu*.d, but with only a few trifling bums. 



168 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

As for Patty, she was folded close in her 
father's arms, and they laughed and cried 
together. Then the neighbors came in, and 
called her a brave little girl, worth a dozen 
Margots, — for Margot was no favorite in the 
neighborhood. Then one of the little boys 
who had pretended to be so frightened, came 
timidly, and said, — 

" Please forgive me, Patty, for what I did 
to-day. I don't think you are ugly at all ; 
and when you smile, I think you look sweeter 
than any girl I know." 

"Yes," continued a neighbor, " the plainest 
face in the world looks pretty when a beauti- 
ful soul shines through." 

" Yes," said Dame Goodwin ; " and the 
beautiful faces only give pleasure for a little 
time, for they soon grow faded and old ; but 
God will sooner or later call all the beautiful 
souls up to his heaven." 

" How God has blessed my little daugh- 
ter!" whispered the cobbler, tremulously. 
"Every one must love her." And Patty 
felt quite bewildered with happiness, and 
longed to get away to her own little room, 
and give thanks for this sweet answer to her 
prayers. 



PLAIN LITTLE PATTY. 1G9 

Do you wonder after this that Patty cried 
no more over her plain face, but only prayed 
every day that God would give her the 
greater blessing of a beautiful soul? 



XVIII. 

THE DREAM OF " GOLDEN HAIR/ 

She was weeping, 'neath the apple-trees — 

the little Golden Hair ; 
"Oh, what is it?" chirped the wondering 

birds, afloat in crimson air. 
" For she will not heed the clover, yearning 

red-mouthed to be kissed, 
Nor the sunset folding 'round her loving arms 

of tender mist." 
Then the courtier wind came whispering, 

"Oh, fairest of the fair! 
Can it be that sorrow dares to touch the heart 

of Golden Hair ! " 

" Oh, I'm tired, very tired," sobbed the griev- 
ing little child, 

"And I wish I were an angel, in whose sweet 
eyes God has smiled ; 

For whene'er lie does God's bidding, in his 
harp grow golden strings, 

4nd the angels on the crystal sea make room 
for his bright wings. 

F9 




Helpa for Girls. Page 170. 



DREAM OF "GOLDEN HaIR." 171 

But my playmates laugh to see me try to bo 

so meek and mild, 
And they call me bitter, mocking names ; I'm 

tired! " sobbed the child. 



Then the evening wind was sorrowful, and 
sighing went his way, 

And the robins chirped, " Dear Golden Hair," 
but knew no more to say. 

But the maiden, lifting tearful eyes to heaven's 
glowing floor, 

Caught a gleam of white wings drifting 
through the sunset's half-shut door, 

And as still she gazed, a happy cloud brim- 
med o'er with golden spray, 

And two angel-forms came floating down the 
tender, shining way. 

And one called unto the other, though shd 

lost the heavenly name, 
And he said, "Oh, fairest brother, with thy 

shining wings aflame, 
It is sweet to pass from glory unto glory ever 

higher, 
And to reach the seraphs' throbbing hearta 

a-thrill with holy fire, 



172 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

But I yearn but once, for Jesus' sake, to suf- 
fer grief and shame, — 

Ah ! what joy to show my glorious King how 
much I love his name! " 



Then, with streaming eyes, upon her knees 

fell little Golden Hair, 
While the lovely vision floated down the 

waves of twilight air ; 
All that passed in that sweet hour, only God 

and angels heard, 
But thereafter with a loving heart she bore 

each mocking word ; 
SufFring joyfully for Jesus, till the child-soul 

grew so fair, 
That the angels on the crystal sea made room 

for Gulden Hair. 



XIX. 

POOR BLACK VIOLET. 

The long, long Southern clay was offer at 
last, and the sun, generous old monaich that 
he is, was leaving gifts. Every tree had a 
golden crown, — every little wave in brook, 
streamlet or ocean, was eager to catch a ruby 
or an opal on its dancing crest, and the sweet 
warm evening wind hardly knew his old 
flower-friends, as they nodded and courtesied 
in their wreaths of crimson mist. Even 
Carrie had to pause in her race on the piazza, 
and cry exultingly, as she held up her hands 
in the red light, — " Ah, brother Frank, I be- 
lieve we are breathing roses" Before Frank 
had time to reply, a dusky little figure came 
dancing up the walk. "It is Violet," said 
Carrie, quickly. " Let's ask her to play." 

"Not I, indeed," returned Master Frank, 
proudly. "I do not think papa likes us to 
play with the slaves." 

" But Violet is such a funny little thing," 



174 HELPS OVER IIAttD PLACES. 

pleaded Carrie, " and papa saw me with her 
yesterday, and lie only patted both our heads, 
and called her « Blight Eyes.' Didn't he, Vio- 
let?" added she, as the dancing child rested 
in front of them, poised on one dusky, rounded 
foot. 

"You're a dirty little nigger," interposed 
Master Frank, with intense disgust; "and if 
you don't stay in the quarters, I will get pap3 
to have you whipped." 

"For shame, Frank," cried Carrie, while 
Violet's round eyes grew big with fright. 

" Please, Mass'r Frank," began she, but the 
boy had walked rapidly away. 

"Never mind, Vi," said Carrie, kindly; 
" he'll never do it ; " and coming down off the 
piazza, she took the little dark hand in her own. 

" Come, we will have a talk." 

"I's sorry I's black," began poor Violet, 
all the fun gone from her merry little face, 
" but I is clean. Please tell Mass'r Frank I 
scrubs very hard, but the black won't come 
off _ truly, Miss Carrie." 

" Would you like to be white ? " asked the 
little girl. 

"Oh! Miss Carrie, could I ever?" cried 
Violet, jumping eagerly up and down. 



POOR CLACK VIOLET. 175 

"Oh, I didn't mean that," said Carrie, 
quickly. "I'm afraid you couldn't grow 
white ever — I'm sure I don't know what 
you could do." 

Violet gave a heavy sigh of disappointment. 
"Well, if I's alius black, I hopes I'll live with 
you, Miss Carrie." 

"Yes, that you shall," replied the little girl, 

"And," said Violet, "when we goes to 
Canaan, that old Sambo sings about, may 
I be your little slave then, Miss Carrie, 'cause 
you's alius so kind ? " 

"I don't think there will be any slaves 
there," said Carrie, slowly, pondering over the 
matter. 

"Why, what will the black people do, 
then?" cried Violet, with curious round eyes. 

" Maybe," replied Carrie hesitatingly, " may- 
be there won't be any black people — you 
know, Violet, our bodies are covered up in the 
ground," — Violet shivered, — "but our souls 
go to heaven, and they must be all white." 

"All of 'em?" asked Violet, eagerly. 

"Yes, mamma told me that no soul can go 
till it is washed white in Jesus' blood." 

"And can my soul be white?" whispered 
Violet. 



176 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

"Yes," said Carrie, "if you ask God." 

" Please ask him now," cried Violet, eagerly, 
u here under the tree, please, oh, Miss Carrie ! " 

And in the soft twilight the little girlg 
kneit down, while Carrie prayed, — 

" O God, help Violet to be very good, and 
make her soul white, for Jesus' sake." 

And Violet echoed, — "Please, dear Jesus, 
make Violet's soul white" 

They remained a few minutes in silence 
and then rose from their knees. 

" Is my soul white now, Miss Carrie ? " 

" I suppose it must be," replied Carrie, with 
sweet, childish faith. 

Violet looked at her dusky, bare hands, 
arms and feet with a new interest. "Can 
He look through all the black, Miss Carrie, 
and see my new white soul ? " 

" Ah yes ; he sees every thing. But, Violet, 
mamma says, if we do wrong, it makes a 
black spot, and God will look away " — 

" Oh, I loves him, I loves him, Miss Car- 
rie; he's so good to me — to make my soul 
n'kite, and I will try " — 

" Carrie," interrupted Frank's quick, angi y 
voice, "mamma wants you directly." 

Poor Violet rolled hastily over the fence 



POOR BLACK VIOLET. 177 

like a little black ball, and Carrie ran into the 
house. 

The next morning Frank awoke feeling 
very nnamiable, and determined to make 
Carrie and Violet as uncomfortable as him- 
self. He soon thought of a plan. After mak- 
ing some request which was answered in the 
affirmative by his absent-minded father, he 
set off for the house of the overseer. 

" Papa says," he began, " that Violet is to 
work w r ith the rest of the children to-day." 

" She is too young yet to work all day," 
said the overseer. " No matter," said Frank, 
"papa says she must goP There was noth- 
ing more to be said ; and Violet was sent with 
a gang of children, hired from several planta- 
tions, to help carry brick for the building of 
u house. Some one had discovered that 
these quick little black children could be 
made very useful. They were formed in a 
line, and as they passed the pile of building 
material, one brick was laid on each curly 
head, and with that they climbed the ladder, 
left the scaffolding, and came regularly around 
to the starting point,* looking like a busy 
little colony of ants. At first Violet thought 

* A fact. 
12 



178 HELPS OVER IIARD PLACES. 

it great fun, and went nimlly up the lacJJef 

with her head very proud and erect. But as 
the day wore on, the busy limbs grew tired, 
the bricks pressed heavier on her aching 
head, she could hardly see how to stumble 
up the ladder, and at last, when mischievous 
Dick, just behind her, gave her a sudden 
pinch, she fell from top to bottom. Poor lit- 
tle Violet was much bruised, but she could 
not rest long, for the overseer called her 
name, and told her " not to be lazy." So she 
went slowly on as if in a dream, toiling pain- 
fully over the weary way. Several times, 
when she thought of Master Frank, angry 
feelings would arise in her heart. Then she 
would think of the spots on her new white 
soul, and she would ask God to forgive her 
and help her to feel right. At last the even- 
ing came, and Violet crept slowly home. As 
6he n eared the house, Carrie ran to meet her. 

" Poor little Violet," she cried, " are you so 
tired ? It was all a mistake ; papa didn't mean 
to have you go, and you shan't any more. I 
shall ask papa to give you all to me." 

" Please do, Miss Carrie," sighed Violet. 

" Well, I will this very night, and FraDk 
will not treat you so badly any more." 



POOR BLACK VIOLET. 179 

" Miss Carrie, oh Miss Carrie," cried Viole t 
in a choking voice, pointing to a tree a short 
distance from them. 

" Yes," said Carrie, quietly. " I knew Frank 
was there all the time, but he's sound asleep 
over his book, and don't hear a word we say." 
But Violet's terrors increased, and she shook 
from head to foot, still keeping her finger 
rigidly stretched out. 

Carrie looked more earnestly, and in the 
deep shadow she saw the glittering eyes and 
brilliant crest of a poisonous snake, close, oh 
so close to Frank. There, there he was, gath- 
ering himself up to strike her sleeping brother ! 
A piercing shriek burst from Carrie's pale 
lips; but Violet, forgetful of her aching limbs 
and her past suffering, sprang forward fran- 
tically, and threw herself upon her young 
tormentor. " Mass'r Frank — Mass'r Frank ! " 
she called loudly, and then could say no 
more, for the fatal spring was taken, and the 
poison sheathed in her quivering dark arm. 

Frank started with the cry of agony, only 
to see his fearful enemy glide swiftly away 
in the gloom. The shrieks of the children 
brought the household speedily to the spot, 



ISO HELPS OVER I1AED PLACES. 

but the poison had done rapid work in the 
weary little body. 

" Please, Jesus, give Violet a white soul," 
murmured the child, lifting her dim eyes to 
the sweet evening sky. Then came a quick 
convulsion, followed by a long shiver through- 
out the rounded limbs, and little Violet was 
quite still. 

Frank shuddered violently as he thought 
of the terrible fate he had escaped, and his 
heart was full of remorse as he remembered 
his cruelty to the patient, forgiving little slave, 
who had been so much more noble than he. 
His fither, with a heart full of thanksgiving 
for the life of his only son, looked tearfully 
upon the motionless little form, and said, ten- 
derly, — " Poor little black Violet!" And 
Carrie, sobbing bitterly, forgetful of the new 
white soul, echoed, — " Poor little black Vio- 
let ! " But no one knew what the angela 
said, 



XX. 

WHAT IT COST. 

It was certainly the fifth time that little 
Fifine, in her white wrapper, and with dainty- 
bare feet, had crept down the broad staii 
case, and listened, tearful and half-frightened, 
at the dining-room door. It was almost mid- 
night, but she hadn't slept a wink. How 
could she, when every three minutes would 
come a roar of laughter and stamping of feet 
that almost shook the house, and made the 
poor little heart beat faster than ever ? But, 
now she was growing desperate, and must 
speak to Louis, if it were only one word. 
She knocked at the door, but the sound was 
drowned in a rude peal of laughter. 

"So you think the old 'Governor' will 
never be any the wiser ? " cried a voice. 

" Oh, he'll never find it out. John is truo 
as steel, and the children are all abed except 
Eugene, and Mil never tell, I know." 

" Give me some more champagne then, and 

181 



182 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

I won't," cried a fair-haired little boy of about 
ten years. 

"I don't know about that, Dumpling; I 
think you've had enough. Just remember 
you are five or six years younger than the 
rest of us, and are not used to it at all." 

" Then I will tell father, — see if I don't," 
whimpered Eugene. 

"What a plague! Well, come now, hold 
your glass — it's the last time,' remember," 
cried Louis. "I say, boys, I made quite a good 
bargain over this champagne. The Governor 
didn't leave me a very liberal supply of funds, 
this time, but I knew we couldn't get along 
with only that old currant wine in the cellar, 
and by great good luck I managed to get 
some of the genuine article dirt cheap. 
You'd never guess how little I gave for it." 
(Alas ! it was not paid for, as my story will 
show.) a Here, Phil, let me give you a drop 
more." 

" Louis ! " cried a shaking little voice, 
" Louis ! " 

"What's that?" cried the boy, starting. 
" Fifine, I do declare ! " and he made two 
f i'ps for the door. 

" What on earth do vou want here at this 



WHAT IT COST. 1SS 

time of night?" said he, a little angiily. " I 
thought you were sound asleep in your bed." 

" I couldn't sleep," faltered Fifine, " there 
is such a dreadful noise. And, Louis, I have 
come to ask you to send all these wild boys 
home. You know father don't like to have 
you go with them, and mother — Oh! what 
would she say if" — 

" Come, come, Fifine, go back to bed, that's 
a darling. They'll all go pretty soon, I'll 
promise you, and father and mother will 
never know unless you turn magpie; and I 
know," added he, coaxingly, " you won't 
want to make so much trouble. Come, now, 
if you'll go back to bed and forget all about 
it, I'll give you the prettiest present to-mor- 
row " — 

"But you've spent all your money on those 
horrid bottles," said Fifine. 

" Pshaw, Goosey! you haven't the least idea 
how cheap they were. It was a bargain, you 
see, and they hardly cost any thing at all." 

" But I'm almost sure it isn't right," sobbed 
Fifine ; " and you've got poor Eugene in there 
too, and his cheeks look so red I'm afraid he'll 
have a fever and die before father and mother 
come back," 



184 HELPS OFEK HARD PLACES 

" I declare," cried Louis, impatiently, " ona 
girl is more trouble than a dozen boys. Now 
I must go back to my company, and if Goosey 
won't go up to her nice warm bed, why, 1 
must carry her myself; " and Louis lifted the 
slight figure. 

Fifine made no resistance, but only sobbed 
quietly to herself till he put her down gently 
upon the soft carpet of her own little room. 

" Oh, Louis," she cried, as he sprang back 
through the door. "One thing more I want 
to say, — when you go down, please take that 
candle out of the v> r indow " 

"What candle?" 

"Why, some one has set a candle right in 
the window, and the curtains will blow 
against it in the wind, and " — 

" Ah, yes ! w T hat a thoughtful little puss it 
is ! Yes ; I'll see to it. We want it there a 
little while so John ean see to pound ice on 
the piazza, but there isn't the least bit of dan- 
ger while we're all sitting there, you know. 
Indeed, we think some of illuminating the 
front windows so they shall look like the pal- 
ace of the Caliph Haroun Alraschid, and 
then we'll finish the night in the garden." 



WHAT IT COST. 185 

" Oil, Louis," sobbed Fifine, " you said they 
Biiould go soon." 

"Well! well! so they shall. Now, good- 
night. You'll find it all right in the morn- 
ing. Say, 'Now I lay me,' and go to sleep 
like a dear little bird;" and again kissing her, 
he hastily left the room. 

Poor little Fifine could not go to bed, but 
curling herself up in a great easy-chair with 
her small feet lost in a silk cushion, she cried 
a little more, listened, sobbed again, and 
finally, being very tired, dropped off to sleep. 
Twelve ! one ! two ! three ! and still she 
slept on ; but now her dream began to be very 
troubled. She thought she was again at the 
dining-room door, and the claps and hisses 
were louder than ever. Then the rough boy, 
Phil Barnard, saw her, and was so angry that 
he flew at her and tried to strangle her. 

Fifine awoke coughing and choking, and, 
rubbing her eyes, looked around her. She 
soon became conscious that Snarler was whin- 
ing piteously — the air was thick, heavy and 
almost stifling; and what was that strange 
noise? Crackle, crackle, sputter, crackle,— 
what could it be? 

Fifine arose, her limbs trembling and teeth 



186 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

chattering, and crept to the hall door. Aa 
she opened it the sound grew more frightful, 
and a thick volume of smoke rushed into the 
room. 

" Louis ! Eugene ! " she cried; but no voice 
replied, and she hastily ran down the stairs. 
Ah ! it was all explained now. What a 
frightful sight ! The dining-room — its tables 
covered with broken dishes — Louis lying on 
the lounge in a heavy sleep — little Eugene 
curled up on the iloor, motionless, and with 
his eyes half open as if he were already dead 
— Phil Barnard, the only one of the wild 
company who had not gone home, staring 
about him in stupid wonder, while all the sad 
scene was terribly illuminated by tongues of 
vivid fire, that were leaping and chasing each 
other up the casement, and over the frescoed 
wall. A shriek of terror burst from Fifine's 
pale lips, but Phil only turned his blank won- 
dering gaze upon her, and Louis and Eugene 
slept on. 

" Fire ! fire ! " shrieked poor Fifine, but no 
one seemed to hear. She was desperate, and 
rushed to the servants' room. On her way 
she stumbled over John, lying full length 
upon the floor in the servants' hall, but he, 



WHAT IT COST. 187 

too, was stupid, and could not be roused. 
But now came the black cook, Dinah, rolling 
her great eyes in fright, and here was nurse, 
wringing her hands, with her cap fallen off 
her head. 

" Fire ! fire ! " screamed Fifine ; " and hurry % 
or Louis and Eugene will be burnt to death ! " 

Then the poor frightened women ran to 
and fro. Nurse poured a pail of cold water 
over the stupid John, and roused him enough 
to send him to the neighbors for help. Great 
strong Dinah, almost stifled with smoke, 
dragged Louis and Eugene out of the flames, 
while Phil just knew enough to stupidly fol- 
low. 

And now the fire had gained grand head- 
way. It was sweeping through the beautiful 
parlors, reveling among the rare paintings, 
darting its hungry red tongue among the 
costly books, the vases and the statues, and 
now it made a grand leap to the staitcase, 
and wreathed the carven balusters with crim- 
son, while Fifine and the servants stood stu- 
pefied with terror. Eugene lay senseless 
upon the grass, and Louis, but partially roused, 
one minute laughed wildly, and the next 
cried and sobbed like a baby. 



188 HELPS OVER IlAllD PLACES. 

Suddenly little Fifine, giving a quick 
startled glance, cried, — " Where is baby f 
Has no one brought out little Lucie ? " 

Nurse looked aghast — ran to the hall door, 
and again rushed back stifled with smoke. 

" May Heaven forgive me ! " cried the half 
crazy woman. "The stairs are all on fire, 
and Lucie is in the nursery ! " 

Louis started a little, took a few totter- 
ing steps, and sank again, while the fearful 
fire blazed and crackled, and waved its red 
banners as if in defiance. Old Dinah threw 
herself upon the ground with loud groans, 
while nurse wrung her hands and cried, — 
" Oh ! my darling ! Oh ! my poor little 
lamb!" 

Fifine looked despairingly at the helpless 
group, and then, with white lips, sprang to 
the trellis upon which vines were trained to 
droop over the piazza. Up, up, went the 
eager bare feet — up! she had reached the 
roof, and crawled in the nursery window. 
There sat innocent baby Lucie, upright in 
her crib, clapping her hands and crowing at 
the strange rosy light. Poor baby ! she was 
too young to go to heaven by such a gate of 
fire, and Fifine clasped her convulsively. 



WIIAT IT COST. 189 

The floor was already hot to the little bare 
feet, but Fifine came bravely out with her 
precious burden. A great cheer awaited her 
as she appeared on the roof, for the neighbors 
had come, and the engine from the village 
half a mile off. 

So they put up a ladder, and Fifine and 
Lucie came down riding royally upon kind 
Mr. Barnard's broad shoulders. 

" Dear Mr. Barnard," whispered Fifine sud- 
denly, on the way down, "will you please 
help me get out Dicky and the parrot? 
How could I forget them ? " 

" Where are they, little daughter ? " 

" In the library." 

They flew to the window. Ah ! too late ! 
Dicky already lay upon the bottom of his 
cage, his poor little claws in the air, and 
Jacko, with shrill cries, was beating his wires, 
almost hidden in a fiery rain. 

" Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed the poor bird, when 
he saw Fifine. " How d'y do ; I'm scared ! 
I'm scared ! " 

" Oh, Mr. Barnard, get him quick," screamed 
Fifine, clasping her hands. 

" It is too late," said he, kindly ; " I can not 



190 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

save Jacko now. The floor may fall in anj 
minllte. ,, 

A heart-broken sob burst from Fifine's lips 
— the poor parrot ruffled his golden green 
feathers, cried feebly, " I'm scared ! I'm 
scared!" — the side of the room tottered, 
there was a grand crash, and all was over 
with Jacko. 

Morning dawned cloudy and chilly. The 
beautiful house stood a blackened ruin — 
the fine garden was destroyed — the trees 
scorched and dead, the flowers buried in a 
rain of cinders, — a few chairs and tables scat- 
tered around in hopeless confusion — Eugene, 
with fevered cheeks and glassy eyes, lying on 
a bed in the grass, and Louis, now come to 
his senses, standing in the midst with a look 
of hopeless despair. 

" How could this have taken fire ? " asked 
Mr. Barnard. 

Louis shook his head mournfully. 

Fifine crept up slowly with her little 
blistered feet, and whispered, " Did you move 
the candle ? " 

"Yes — no — yes, I think I did," faltered 
the miserable Louis, "but I can't quite re- 



WHAT IT COST. 



191 



member;" and lie put his hand to bis throb- 
bing head. 

"Ah, Louis" wept little Fifine, "how 
much have you paid for those bottles of cham- 
pagne ? " 



XX t. 

CHRISTIE BELL'S STOCKINGS. 

" Yes, them ruffles and little dresses look 
very nice," said the big, fat cook, emptying 
Christie's basket ; " but you needn't wait for 
the money to-night, 'cos Mrs. Baker's power- 
ful busy seem' to a Christmas tree, and you 
needn't come to-morrow nuther, for there's 
goiu' to be a heap of company then ; but the 
day after mebbe you'll get attended to. Now 
run home," said she, not unkindly, " and 
here's a cake chuck full of caraways for you." 

" Now move on lively," cried the pert little 
errand-boy to hesitating Christie. "Don't 
you see the cook is terribly flustered with all 
these chickens and turkeys? She's getting 
quite wild. Ten chances to one if she don't 
make some dreadful mistake, and in two min- 
utes have you covered up in that big chicken 
pie ! Scatter now ! " and by way of enforcing 
his remarks, he made a dash at her with such 
i murderous-looking skewer that poor Chris 

192 



CHRISTIE BELL'S STOCKINGS. 193 

tie's feet clattered like a pair oi very lively 
castanets, out into the street. 

"Dear me!" said Christie, catching lie! 
breath, as she turned the corner. "What a 
very sad thing it h to be poor. Now we 
won't have any dinner to-morrow, unless it 
is one of those old puddings all Indian meal 
and water, with a little molasses on top. I 
am so tired of it ! " and again she sighed 
heavily. "I wonder how that cake tastes?" 
thought Christie in another minute, bright- 
ening a little. " Mother and I will eat it to- 
gether. How nice it will be ! but I believe 
I must take one little bite now;" and it was 
just inserted between Christie's little pearls of 
teeth, which seemed to fairly shine with the 
unexpected pleasure of scraping such an agree- 
able acquaintance, when a weak voice close 
by her side uttered a plaintive cry. 

"Oh, it's you, is it, Joey?" said Christie, 
uneasily drawing the cake under her shawl. 

Poor little hunchback Joey made no reply 
except by stretching out his thin hands, and 
fixing his great hungry eyes upon that spot 
of the shawl where the precious cake had 
disappeared. 

The look was too much for Christie's gen- 
erous heart. 13 



194 HELPS OVER H A E D PLACES. 

"Are you very hungry, poor Joey?" sns 
said, with a sigh. 

" Oh, very ! " said Joey, bursting into tears 

" Take it, then," said Christie, drawing oul 
the precious morsel with a nervous little hand, 
and without venturing a look behind her, she- 
hurried on her way. 

"Hurrah ! " cried a cheery voice, suddenly 
beside her, — 

" The darling little Christie Bell, 
"Whom the angels lore so well ! 
How comes she in the street so late, 
A furlong from the castle gate ? ' 

" Oh, Mr. Charley, is it you ? " cried Chris- 
tie, joyfully. "Are you home for Christmas ? " 

"It is just I? responded a merry-eyed six- 
footer of the venerable age of eighteen. 
" And how. are the stockings — finished ? 
Was there yarn enough ? Just half a yard 
from heel to toe, and legs as long as a light- 
ning rod ! " 

"Finished!" cried Christie Bell, triumph- 
antly clapping her hands; "and big enough 
for the giant that lives at the top of Jack's 
bean-pole." 

" Just the size ! " cried Mr. Charley. 
" They'll be a splendid fit ! and I suppose 



Christie bell's stockings. 105 

they're an elegant shape, and not a mistake 
in them." 

" No, Mr. Charley," said Christie, bravely, 
after a moment of conscientious straggle, " I'm 
afraid — well, there's three stitches dropped, 
and I seamed four times in the wrong place, 
and maybe the ankles are a little too fat, 
and "— 

" Hush ! I won't hear another word against 
'em. I know they're beauties, and I think of 
keeping 'em under a glass case." 

" Well, you must remember your promise, 
Mr. Charley," said the pleased Christie. 

" Oh, yes — enough more yarn to knit six 
pairs for the poor soldiers ? Yes ; I'll give 
you enough for the whole army, if you'll knit 
it up." 

" Oh, that's splendid ! " cried Christie, not 
at all dismayed by the prospect; "I'll do 
it." 

" But what have you got on your own little 
feet?" said Mr. Charley, suddenly looking 
down at the worn shoes and thin old cotton 
g lockings. 

" Oh," said Christie, blushing very much, 
u they're nice enough for me." 

tt But your feet will freeze." 



196 KELTS OVER HARD PLACES. 

"Oh no; I don't think about them at all 
They're warm, — I guess." 

"Well, what do you think about, little 
snow-bird?" said Mr. Charley, curiously. 

" Oh, to-night I have lovely thoughts. It's 
the night before Christmas, you know, and I 
never saw any thing so splendid as the shop 
windows. Do you know," said Christie, con- 
fidentially, " when I see a very grand one a 
good ways off, I just shut my eyes tight till 
I'm right in front, and then I say, < Open ses- 
ame,' and make believe I've walked right 
into Aladdin's garden. Oh, its great fun, Mr. 
Charley ; did you ever try it ? " 

" Why, no. How stupid I've been ! I never 
thought of it." 

" Well, you can try it to-night," said Chris- 
tie, patronizingly, as she stooped to pick up 
some sprays of evergreen, — poor little bran- 
ches that some heavy foot had trampled. 
Christie kissed them, and they thanked her 
with their sweet odorous breath. 

"What are you going to do with those, 
Christie ? " Christie hesitated. 

" You will never tell ? " said she, grasping 
his big hand nervously. 

"No! Honor! "cried Mr. Charley, bend- 
ins down his handsome head. 



CHRISTIE BELL'S STOCKINGS. 197 

"Weil, you know that little place with a 
fence all 'round, down Pine Street ? " 

" You don't mean the place where they used 
to bury people fifty years ago ? " said Charley, 
with an affected shudder. 

"Yes I do," said Christie, hurriedly; "and 
there's little children buried there too, for I've 
been in and measured, and you can't think 
how sad it looked to-day, with the cold snow, 
all neaps — up and down — up and down — 
just exactly as if the ground was sobbing 
about it, you know, and I thought I would like 
to put these pretty branches on some of the 
poor little graves." 

"You dear, odd little Christie!" cried 
Charlie, giving the astonished child a sudden 
toss in the air, basket and all. " I thought 
little girls' heads were only full of dolls and 
baby-houses, on Christinas Eve." 

Just then they came out into the brilliant 
square laughing all over with gas-lights, where 
their paths began to diverge. 

" You won't forget to come for the stock- 
ings to-morrow ? " 

"No indeed! Yon may expect to see the 
toes of my big feet coming in at the door 
about nine o'clock, and the rest of me will ba 
ulongr in fifteen minutes after." 



198 IIELPS OVER II ART PLACES 

Christie laughed merrily, and hastened on 
past the handsome houses, where, through 
parted curtains, she caught glimpses of pie- 
tures and flowers, and wonderful Christmas 
trees, till she quite forgot that she was cold 
and hungry, and walked on like a princess, 
hand in hand with fairies and genii. 

Then the bells began to ring for Christmas 
Eve, and the fairies and genii all fled away, 
while Christie thought of something far 
sweeter and better — thought of the tidings 
of great joy — of the dear Saviour who was 
born a little babe in the manger; and she 
wished she had been the happy star who had 
nothing to do but point it out with his long 
finger of light. Dear, beautiful Saviour, who 
remembered that he was a baby once, and 
said, " Suffer the little children to come unto 
me." 

Christie's steps mechanically turned into 
the dark street leading home. 

" Hallo, boys ! Here's a lark ! " cried Jim 
Brown, catching sight of her thin, scantily 
draped little figure. " If here isn't a broom- 
handle out all alone by itself, with clot lies 
luing ou it, making believe it's a girl!" 

"Yes,'' cried another, giving her big basket 



ciiristie bell's stockings. 199 

a twirl, " it's a broom-handle and a clothes- 
basket out on a spree together ! But I do 
say it's the basket's turn to cany the broom- 
handle. I'm sure it's the biggest. Let's 
make 'em turn about ; " and he proceeded to 
induct Christie's feet under the cover. 

"Please," cried bewildered Christie, "it 
isn't a broom-handle, it's Christie Bell." 

" Oh ! you're trying to throw dust in our 
eyes. It's a way brooms have," cried Jim 
Brown. " Now hurry in, or I'll have to break 
you in two pieces, for in you must go." 

"For shame! " cried the rest of the boys, 
as Christie burst into tears. " It's real mean 
to plague little Eriss Bell ; " and with a sud- 
den change of intention they insisted on es- 
corting her home in a body. 

" Are you going to hang up your stock- 
ings ? " asked one. 

" It wouldn't do any good," said Christie, 
mournfully. 

" Why, haven't you heard the news ? Santa 
Claus has just returned from the mountains 
of the moon, and has brought such a big bag 
of presents that he can't squeeze down chim- 
neys any more, and he's just coming 'round 
to outside doors, and any one who wants any 



200 KELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

thing will just hang his stocking out, and it'll 
be crammed!" 

''You're making fun of me. There isn't 
any Santa Claus," said Christie, anxiously. 

" Well," said the mischievous boys, " we're 
all going to try it, any way, — every boy and 
girl in the row, unless it's you." 

Poor simple Christie entered the house in 
a perfect maze. Could it be true? She 
didn't suppose there would be any harm in 
trying, and she wouldn't say one word to 
mother, so it should be a pleasant surprise to 
her in the morning. But what stockings 
should she hang out ? Her own were so mis- 
erable, and full of darns, that she couldn't 
think of exposing them on the front door. 
Could it possibly hurt those splendid ones she 
had knit for Mr. Charley? They would be 
so nice and strong, and would hold so much. 
Besides, they couldnH be hurt. Didn't Mrs. 
Malone tell mother that the gates of heaven 
were always w T ide open on Christmas Eve, 
and wouldn't there be more good angels in 
the air than on any other night? So Christie 
carefully hung out her precious stockings, and 
went soundly to sleep. The spirit who makes 
dreams for good children had one waiting 



CHRISTIE BELL'S STOCKINGS. 201 

tor her, — all dolls, and candies, and flowerd 
and angels — the very nicest little girl-dream, 
be had mixed that night. 

Morning came, and with dimples, and roses 
and hasty bare feet, Christie stole to the out- 
side door. One minute — and with wide, in- 
credulous eyes and quivering lips, she was 
stealing back again, holding in her hands — 
oh! direful sight! — the precious stockings, 
with their poor feet cut sheer off their legs, 
and nothing in them but a few sticks and cold 
pancakes! Was there ever any thing so 
cruel ? And where were the good angels all 
the time ? 

There is no use in trying to tell all Christie's 
broken-hearted grief, nor how her poor mother 
tried to console her, and cried harder than 
Christie's self, nor how, after Christie's mother 
had Grone to Mrs. Baker's to make one more 
attempt to get a little money for Christmas, 
hateful Jim Brown came to the window 
and cried, — " Hi, Christie Bell ! what did you 
get in your stockings ? Oh, do come and look 
at Christie Bell's new stockings ! " 

All this was very hard, but hardest of all 
was when "Mr. Charley" came 
in. 



202 HELPS OYER IIARD PLACES. 

"Hurrah! you small Christiana! Here's 
Great-Heart after his stockings ! " 

Christie burst into fresh tears. 

" Not quite clone yet ? Never mind. Next 
Christmas will do just as well;" but here his 
quick eyes caught a glimpse of blue yarn, 
and the remains of the beautiful stockings 
were dragged from Christie's unwilling apron. 

" How's this ? " cried Mr. Charley, bursting 
into a merry laugh. Christie sobbed her story. 

" Downright mean ! " said he, vehemently, 
brushing his own eyes. " But as to the stock- 
ings, I like them just as well this way as any 
other — they'll be so handy to put on ! " 

" Oh, Mr. Charley, they'll never be of any 
use so." 

" Oh well, then, I'll mend 'em with Sjml- 
ding. Spalding will mend any thing in the 
world!" 

"Will it really, truly mend these?" cried 
Christie, with a brightening face. 

" Well, it always mended any thing I ever 
tried yet," said Mr. Charlie, evasively ; " and 
now you mustn't think the good angels were 
off guard either, last night. I suppose you 
never thought of looking under the stoop ? " 

"No," said Christie, wonderingly. 



CHRISTIE BELL'S STOCKINGS. 203 

" Then you didn't see these. Santa Clans 
remembered the little girl that gave away her 
cake ; " and he brought out two of the prettiest 
pairs of white stockings-, with red tops, stuffed 
just as full as they com J be — stuffed with 
cakes «md candies, and books and dolls, and 
mittens and shoes, and a little pocket-book, 
with a whole dollar in five and three-cent 
pieces! Then on the floor, though th^y cer- 
tainly never came out of the stockings, lay 
two nice fat chickens, and a beautiful Christ- 
mas pie. 

"Hi, Christie," cried Jim Brown's hateful 
voice again at the window, " what did you 
get in your stocking? Come see Christie 
Bell's beautiful new " — but here his eye fell 
on the floor, scattered with presents, and he 
stopped short in envious surprise. 

"Yes," cried Christie Bell, clapping her 
hands, and laughing and sobbing all at once, 
" yes, do come and see Christie Bell's beauti • 
ful new stockings!" 



XXII. 

LITTLE CLARE. 

The wintry wind blows wild and chill, 
The snow drifts fast and faster still 

Through all the troubled air; 
But careless of the raging storm, 
And laughing at all thought of harm, 
In snowy ermine nestled warm, 

Trips merry little Clare. 

The wind her bonnet-strings unties, 
The snow-flakes fringe her lovely eyes, 

And wreathe her soft brown hair; 
But troops of happy thoughts delight 
Her bounding heart, as, warm and tight, 
She clasps a silver dollar bright, 

A birthday gift to Clare. 

"How nice," she cries, with sparkling eye, 
u What lovely playthings I can buy, — 
That big doll in her chair, 

204 



LITTLE CLARE. 205 

Perhaps a set of cups for tea, — 
Ah, there's the window, only see, 
As full of toys as it can be ! 

What shall I take ? " thought Clare. 

But while she stood in pleasing doubt, 
A soft sigh made her turn about; 

And there, with feet all bare, 
She saw a little half-clad child, 
His hollow eyes with hunger wild ; 
" I wonder if he ever smiled," 

Thought tearful little Clare. 

" Where is your home, poor boy ? " she crieo\ 
" And why has not your mother tried 

To make you clothes to wear ? " 
" Alas ! alas ! " the boy replies, 
" My mother sick and dying lies, 
And hungry baby cries and cries." 

" Dear me ! " sighed little Clare. 

" And do you live quite far from here ? ' 
" No," cried the boy, " 'tis very near ; 

Oh, may I show you where ? " 
With eager steps he ran before, 
Till, slipping through a battered door, 
lie guided o'er a broken floor 

The dear, small feet of Clare. 



206 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

They pause within a dingy room, 
And, peering through the chilly gloom, 

She sees reclining there 
A weary woman, ghastly pale, 
Who tries, in pauses of the gale, 
To hush a starving baby's wail. 

" 'Tis very sad," wept Clare. 

" Poor thing ! she has no fire nor food; 
I wonder if I only could 

My bright new dollar spare." 
So lovely then the young face grew, 
Through such sweet mist smiled eyes of blue ; 
What heaven-born thought was shining thro', 

Oh, tender heart of Clare ? 

" Poor woman, take this coin," she said, 
And in that shriveled palm was laid 

The child-hand soft and fair. 
Oh, what strange joy those features wore, 
What eager thanks those lips outpour. 
" God bless you, darling, evermore ! " 

" How very sweet," thought Clare. 

As homeward Clare's quick footsteps \ ressed, 
No waxen doll lay on her breast, — 
13 ut ah ! what peace was there. 



LITTLE CLARE. 207 

And p.s with rev'rent tenderness 
The wind swept back eacli loosened tress, 
With what a heavenly loveliness 
Had God blessed little Clare! 



XXIII. 

KNOCKING AT THE DOOR OF HEAVEN. 

A TRUE STORY. 

Tiie glowing sun of a midsummer after- 
noon poured through the curtainless windows 
of the little village school, and small curly 
heads drooped like delicate flowers in the 
languid air. Among them all, little Katie's 
sunny ringlets fell the lowest, and if you had 
lifted the golden veil, you would have seen that 
the weary eyes had forgotten to con the long 
line of hard words in the worn spelling-book, 
and that the silken fringes of the drooping 
lids were pillowed upon the sweetest little 
cheeks in the world. Yes, in the heated air, 
soothed by the lazy drone of the flies and 
the restless hum of young student voices, 
Katie had fallen asleep. 

She was dreaming too — dreaming of the 
little brother, darling Charley, who, in the 
bright spring-time, — when the violets w^ere 
just opening their sweet blue eyes, — had 



AT THE D R OF HEAVEN. 200 

Btrayed away from earth, and passed through 
those gales of glory, always open for the en- 
tering of little feet. And she dreamed that 
she clasped him to her little lonely heart, and 
begged him never to leave her again. And 
in the greatness of her joy she sobbed aloud, 
and started to find Belle's soft arm around 
her, as she whispered, — 

K What is the matter, Katie ? " 

But before poor Katie could well collect 
her thoughts to answer, school was dismissed, 
and she heard the teacher exclaim, as he 
pointed to the darkening west, " Hurry home, 
children, or you will be caught in the shower." 

But Katie could not hurry, and as she 
walked slowly out of the door, again little 
Belle's sweet voice cried, " Poor Katie, are 
you sick ? " 

Then Katie poured all her troubles into 
the sympathizing ear of her little friend, and 
finished saying, "I could not bear to find 
it only a dream. I feel as if I must see 
Charley once more." 

" Where do you think he is? " asked Belle. 

"In heaven, I know," replied Katie, "and 
mother says he can not come back to ws, but 

14 



210 HELPS OVER IIARD PLACES. 

toe can go to him, some time ; " and her sobs 
broke out afresh. 

" Why don't you go to him now f " cried 
Belle. 

" I don't know the way," said Katie. * I was 
very sick when they took him away in that 
dreadful little box, and I don't know whew 
they went." 

"Are you sure they went to heaven?" 
said Belle, eagerly. 

" Oh, I know it," said Katie. 

" Then," said delighted little Belle, — " then 
I can show you the way. 1 saw where they 
put your little brother ! " The glad light in 
Katie's tearful eyes was beautiful to behold. 

" Will you, will you show me, Belle, noic, 
this very afternoon ? " 

" Yes, indeed," cried Belle ; and with clasped 
hands, unmindful of the gathering gloom, 
these little pilgrims set forth on their journey 
to heaven. 

Once, on the way, a doubt oppressed Belle — 

"Are you sure, Katie, that you can get 
in?" 

"Ah!" said Katie, with sweet assurance, 
" how Charley would run to open the door J 
and her cheek flushed with anticipation. 



AT THE DOOR OP HEAVEN. 211 

" Do you suppose he is very happy ? n 
urged Belle. 

" Very? said Katie, emphatically. 

" And what does he do all the time ? " 

"Plays with the angels with such lovely 
wings," cried Katie, with great animation. 
"And then you know they can play with 
the stars, for they must lie thick all over the 
floor of heaven. And then there are the 
rainbows. I suppose they keep them up all 
the year around, and oh ! how Charley used 
to love rainbows. He cried once because " — 

" Dear me ! " cried Belle, interrupting her 
in great dismay, — " it rains, Katie, and we 
are ever so far from home ; what shall we 
do ? " 

"But we are almost to heaven, aren't we? 
Let's hurry and go in there." 

" Yes," said Belle, " I see the door." 

"Where? Where?" cried Katie, breath- 
lessly. 

" There," responded little Belle, pointing to 
the rising ground and iron door of the village 
vault. 

" Oh ! " fluttered Katie, with intense disap- 
pointment. tt la that heaven? Oh, Belle! it is 
like a great grave! " and her lip quivered sadly 



212 HELPS OYER HARD PLACES. 

"Why," said Belle, "that is where they 
took your brother, the very place, and you 
said he had gone to heaven. Maybe," she 
added, with a brightening face, — "maybe, 
when we get through the little dark door, it 
will all be very bright and beautiful on the 
other side." 

" Perhaps it is," said Katie, more hopefully. 

But now the large drops began to fall very 
fast, and a thunder storm in all its sublimity 
burst upon the little travelers. The bur- 
dened west gleamed like an ocean of flame, 
and the floor of heaven resounded to the 
solemn tread of the mighty thunder. Still 
these little children, with clasped hands and 
pale lips, pressed on, and their angels, who 
" do always behold the face of our Father," 
watched over them lovingly, and they walked 
secure in the heavenly company. 

At last the pattering feet reached the 
gloomy entrance, and Katie's sweet, hopeful 
lips were pressed close to the cold door. 

"Knock!" cried Belle; and with all her 
strength Katie did knock, and a hollow echo 
was all her reply, while the little brother, with 
folded eyes, and pale, clasped hands, heeded 
not the imploring cry, — 



AT THE DOOR Of HEAVEN. 213 

" Charley, dear Charley, it is your sister, 
your own sister Katie ; won't you open the 
door?" 

" He can not hear while it thunders so," 
said Belle. " Let us wait a little while ; " and 
they waited. 

Soon there was a lull in the storm, and 
again Katie, strong in faith, knocked at the 
dreary door, and her yearning cry, — " Char- 
ley, dear Charley ! " echoed sadly back. 

" Do you hear any thing ? " asked Belle, 
with parted lips. " Is he coming ? " 

" No," replied Katie. "I thought once I 
heard his little shoes, but " — 

"Perhaps," suggested Belle, with large 
imaginative eyes, " perhaps he is playing with 
the angels, a great way off, in a most beau- 
tiful garden." 

" Oh," sobbed Katie, " I hope he will not 
love the little angels more than me." 

"Knock once more,— just once" urged Belle. 
With wavering faith again the little soft hand 
plead for entrance, and a tremulous voice 
cried piteously, — 

"Charley, dear, sweet, darling little brother, 
please open the door to your own poor Katie. 
Don't love the little angels better than me. 



214 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES 

Oh, Charley ! Charley ! " She threw herself 
upon the wet ground in an agony of grief 
and disappointment. 

" Katie," said Belle, half frightened at this 
outburst, "let us go home now, and come 
again to-morrow and try." 

" No," said Katie, with touching hopeless 
ness, " I shall never come again. Let us go." 
She rose without another sob, or fresh tear 
even upon the wet cheek, but the grieved ex- 
pression of the sweet, childish mouth wag 
pitiful to behold. 

Back over all the dreary way went Katie 
and Belle. Little shoes wet — little dresses 
dripping — little heads bent like dew-laden 
flowers — little hearts very heavy. 

At Katie's door stood her anxious mother, 
peering through the shadows for her darling. 
The child sprang to those loving arms, and 
with one cry, that spoke all the agony of 
bitter doubt that had crept into her young, 
confiding heart, exclaimed, — - 

" Oh, mother, I have been knocking at the 
door of heaven, and Charley would not let 



ci e in 



! » 



Deal', grieved little Katie, refusing to be 
* The identical words of the child. 



AT TllE DOOR OF HEAVEN. 215 

comforted in this great sorrow ! It may be 
that before the violets come again " God's 
hand may beckon unawares," and witli a bet- 
ter guide thou shalt indeed find the " door 
of Heaven." Then knock, little pilgrim, and 
thou shalt be heard amid the hallelujahs of 
all the heavenly choirs. Back shall roll the 
blessed portals, and Charley shall lead thee 
with eager wings to the feet of Him who 
loves little children, while the song of the 
angels shall be, — " Of such is the kingdom 
of heaven," 



XXIV. 
"SEVEN TIMES* 

It was a lovely spring morning, — early in 
the season, but undeniably spring, for the 
frogs had held a croaking, sputtering caucus 
the night before, and, though the winter 
frost did not seem quite thawed from their 
throats, had unanimously decided that the 
matter was quite beyond a doubt. Besides, 
a few courageous Puritan robins had made a 
Plymouth of the old elm-tree at the garden 
gate, and it didn't need any great proficiency 
in bird-language to know that their songs 
were full of roses, green leaves, and pros- 
perity. 

But we must not spend our time talking 
about the morning. Our business is with 
little Milly Pattison, sitting by the window, 
learning her morning verse, — little Milly, 
who felt very happy sitting in the sunshine, 
and was anxious to do something to please 
the good God who had made such a beautiful 

216 



"SEVEN TIMES." 217 

world. So, as she learned her verse, — "And 
if thy brother trespass against thee seven 
times in a day, and seven times in a day 
turn again to thee, saying I repent, thou 
shalt forgive him," — her gray eyes looked 
very thoughtful, and her small mouth grew 
arm with some very important resolution. 

Tretty soon, down stairs she came to the 
dining-room, and found nobody there but 
brother Frank, who had two years the start 
of her in the race of life, but was not so far 
ahead as you might suppose. He was look- 
ing very discontented. t; Real mean ! " were 
the first words that jumped from his mouth, 
though you couldn't have expected any thing 
better from such a pout. " Real mean to 
spend such a day as this in school ! " and the 
book he held in his hand was transferred to 
his foot and sent spinning in the air, from 
whence it returned with a broken back and 
two fluttering leaves. 

" Oh, Frank ! " cried Milly, " isn't that ray 
arithmetic? and you know I was trying to 
keep it like a new book." 

"I declare it is," said Frank, in a toue of 
real regret. "I thought it was mine; — I'm 
sorry ; — won't you forgive me ? " 



218 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

"Yes," said Milly, slowly, picking up the 
scattered leaves, and thinking of her verse. 
" Yes, I suppose so ; " and under her breath 
she added, " One" 

Breakfast over, they started for school 
together. "Milly," cried Frank, suddenly, 
" here comes a big dog — tongue out, red 
eyes ! Look out for hydrophobia ! " Poor 
Milly ran forward in great terror, too fright- 
ened to see where she stepped. Down went 
one foot in a treacherous hole, and the rest 
of Milly came tumbling after. This was a 
serious mishap ; for the skin was quite rubbed 
from one dimpled elbow, and, worst of all, 
one of the morocco shoes — bright as a mir- 
ror — had a great, white, unsightly graze. 
Milly burst into tears, not about the elbow, 
for she could bear pain like a hero, and she 
knew that Nature, with the help of that expe- 
rienced old tailor, Time, would soon set in a 
patch so nicely joined that she could never 
find the seam ; but the new sAoe, that was 
hopeless. 

" Oh, Frank ! how could you ? " cried Milly. 
"And the dog was only good old Cato. that 
wouldn't hurt a fly!" 

"Why, Milly, Fm sure I never thought 



"SEVEN TIMES." 219 

you'd fell. I only meant to give you a nice 
little run. It's too bad you're hurt. I'm so 
sorry; — won't you forgive me?" 

"Yes," said Milly, swallowing a lump in 
her throat. "I'll try. Two? she sighed, 
softly, to herself. 

At school, Frank was still very aggravat- 
ing, and Milly had great temptation to forget 
her verse. He borrowed her slate-pencil, and 
lost it, and once, when she went up to her 
class, his feet grew suddenly very long, and 
Milly, stumbMng over them, fell, to her great 
mortification, amid the laughter of the school. 
But Frank was so sorry. How could he help 
his feet being so big ? He tried very hard to 
keep them under the desk, but there was only 
room there for one. He was so sorry ; and 
patient Milly had to forgive him. There 
were one or two other grievances in the 
morning which I haven't time to relate. We 
will pass on to the time when school was out, 
and Milly found, to her great dismay, that 
there had been a sudden change in the 
weather, and the rain was pouring in tor- 
rents. But chivalrous Frank borrowed an 
unibre'b, and, tucking Milly's plump hand 



220 HELPS OVER HARD PLACES. 

under his arm, started off as valiant as Great 
heart. 

" Look out ! " cried Milly. " You swing the 
umbrella so, that half the time it drips on my 
head." 

"A little water won't hurt you, will it?" 
cried careless Frank. But wiien they reached 
home, poor Milly found that the coloring-mat- 
ter had run from the umbrella, and long, dingy 
streams disfigured the cherry lining of her 
pretty hood. 

" Well, now, that is too bad, 1 ' cried Frank, 
observing her blank look of dismay. "I de- 
clare, ' Dot,' I'd change caps in a minute with 
you, if you would like it." 

Neat little Milly looked at Frank's battered 
thatching, and mournfully shook her head. 

"Well, Milly, you know I didn't mean to. 
I'm sure you'd forgive me if you knew how 
sorry I felt." 

"I do forgive you," said Milly, with an 
effort, and she counted something on her fin- 
gers. "Seven" said she to herself, with a great 
sigh of relief. 

"What have you been counting all day, 
Milly?" asked Frank, curiously. 

Milly did not answer ; but, as sho ran in to 



"SET EN TIMES." 221 

dinner, a very self-satisfied smile was on her 
face, and she repeated to herself, "Seven times. 
Well, I hope God has been pleased, for it hag 
been very hard ; and I'm so glad it's over, 
for I don't think I could hold out any longer." 

It rained so hard in the afternoon, that 
Milly and Frank were allowed to stay at 
home and study in the playroom. 

" Oh dear," said Frank, with a yawn. "Be- 
fore I begin this ' rule of three which puzzles 
me,' let's have one little tune out of that 
music-box Uncle Charley gave you." 

Milly's eyes brightened. She could not 
resist the temptation, and, running from the 
room, she soon returned with the treasure. 
Carefully she put in the little golden key, 
and turned it with the greatest caution ; but 
mischievous Frank slipped in a little wooden 
wedge in the delicate works, and when she 
paused and listened, with smiling lips, and 
head turned on one side, the wonderful box 
was mute. 

" What is it ? " cried she, turning quite pale. 

" Oh," said Frank, magnificently, " don't be 
alarmed. I'm a great magician. Just let me 
put my finger in the box one second, and all 
will be right." 



222 HELPS OYER HARD PLACES. 

Milly entrusted it to him with trembling 
hands. In went Frank's confident fingers, 
but they pulled out the wedge a little too 
roughly. Snap! went some delicate spring; 
there was a dreary noise, as if the whole box 
were going to fly in pieces, and then all was 
still. Frank examined the box with a dis- 
mayed face. "Milly," said he, at length, with 
an effort, " it's broken — spoiled ! Can you 
ever forgive me?" 

" No ! " said little Milly, stamping her foot 
and bursting into vehement tears. " I can't, 
and I needn't, either. It's the eighth time ! 
My dear, darling music-box ! You did it on 
purpose ! You're very bad to me ! I'll run 
right to your room, and tear your kite, and 
spoil every thing I can find!" 

Poor, remorseful Frank offered no opposi- 
tion, and across the hall she ran, with stream- 
ing eyes and burning cheeks, and stumbled 
right into Uncle Charley's arms. 

" Kity tity ! what's the matter now ? " But 
before the words were out of his mouth, Milly 
was pouring forth her story. 

Uncle Charley looked grave when she fin- 
ished. "And so you think it is right to be 
an^rv now?" 



"SEVEN TIMES." 223 

" Yes,'' said little Milly, impetuously. " It 
is quite right. I've forgiven him seven times. 
This makes eight" 

"But didn't you know," said Uncle Char- 
ley, "that there is another verse where Jesus 
tells Peter not only to forgive his brother 
seven times, but ' until seventy times seven f ' " 

" Seventy times seven ! " cried Milly, look- 
ing quite bewildered. " Oh, I'm sorry I ever 
began. I shall have to give up trying to 
please God that way." 

"I hope not," said Uncle Charley. 

"But you don't know how hard it is to 
keep forgiving and forgiving," wept Milly. 

"Yes, I think I do," said Uncle Charley, 
smiling. " And I shouldn't wonder if the dis- 
ciples knew it, too," said he, half to himself, 
" when, as soon as the command was given, 
they cried, with one accord, 'Lord, increase 
our faith.' Yes, little Milly," he continued, 
aloud, "it certainly is hard, but we must 
always keep trying, and not count the times, 
either ; for I think ' seventy times seven ' 
means that we should always forgive." 

" Oh, I can't do it," sobbed Milly, turning 
determinedly away from poor Frank, who 
stood in the doorway, the image of despair. 



224 HELPS "I E R HARD PLACES. 

"I'll give you my new book of travels, 
Milly, and save all my money till I can buy 
you another box," cried Frank, in doleful 
tones. But Milly would not listen. 

"Very well," said Uncle Charley, "I would 
advise you not to say 'Our Father' for a day 
or two." 

"Why?" said Milly, in great surprise. 

" Why, just think how very sad it would 
be to have to pray, — 'And forgive us our 
trespasses as we forgive Frank who has tres- 
passed against us.' " 

Milly's cheeks grew burning red. She hes- 
itated a moment, and then crying, "I can't 
give up ' Our Father,' " she ran to the sorrow- 
ful figure in the door, threw her arms around 
his neck, and had a "good cry" on the left 
pocket of his brown roundabout. 

Good-hearted, blundering Frank has grown 
much more tender and careful of his little 
sister since then; and as for her, if you should 
ask Frank, — "How often does Milly forgive 
now? — till seven times?" you would see his 
honest eyes fill with affectionate tears, as he 
nnswers, softly, — " Milly is too good to count, 
and I don't dare to ; but I'm quite sure till 
''seventy times seven?" 



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