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any way. I shall work no harder than he will; } “You say what is true, Mario; and would to Heaand Heaven help me to bear my full share of the ven that we all, that everybody might feel this burden and the heat of the day! I am delighted to every moment! Then how kind and loving we work; to feel fatigue working for him, he is so good, would all be! How we would go taking people by so dear to me. God bless him! As Tiny Tim says, the hand, looking them kindly in the face, saying, . God bless everybody! God bless us !

brother,'' sister.' Then how the degraded would “Don't fail to come at the time you have pro lift their heads! How their poor, dull hearts would mised. Tell Charley to see well to the snow-white be stirred, and what warmth and light would go gosling which is to be fatted for the Thanksgiving round into the cold, dark, shut chambers of a soul dinner. Tell Susan to be a quiet girl, and keep her here and a soul there! Heavens! I do believe, drawers in order. Tell them all that Jeanette loves Marie, that every spot, every heart might be made them. Tell them that, happy as she is in her new { light, and good, and comfortable, if only those who home, she yet finds her heart aching to see them; have so many candles burning under bushels, so and believe me ever,

much benevolence, so many good impulses in their “Your own JEANNETTE." hearts, so much love, so many kind words on their

tongues--if they would only let them come out into “A dear good creature, isn't she, Marie? But I the world, and spread and diffuse themselves. Ah, pity her, I am sure, with such a troublesome fault, I mean to" and so painfully conscious of it.”

Marie. Well, dearest, after all, don't mount up MARIE. She would be the more to be pitied if thus. This is what you are often saying-I mean she had the fault, and still was unconscious of it. to. I presume you do mean to. So does everyStill it is best to feel for ber, dearest. It is best to } body; but, pardon me, I never see any great thing feel for everybody who has faults and who mourns that you do, that anybody does. You all mean to. over them; and this would be feeling for everybody Still, you all go on rocking in your easy-chairs, and that lives.

so the kind word is never spoken. The poor crea“Everybody does not-everybody has faults cer tures are never taken by the hand; nor do they tainly, enough of them. But then some people care hear it said kindly in their ears, Brother, Sister. nothing about it. I know some people who have a Hence, they go on, never thinking that thero is thousand times worse faults than Jeannette's, who kindness anywhere in the wide world ; that in any yet care nothing about it. Whenever you see them, heart they are thought of, cared for. they are upon the qui vive, flitting like butterflies, “Oh dear, yes, I know it is just as you say; and and mouths wide open in laughter."

it is vastly too bad that there should be so much MARIE. This is nothing. You never know how despondency in the world, such degradation, when they feel in their still chambers. You never know just speaking and acting out the goodness there is how they feel at the very moment. Think if you in us would make people so hopeful, and so much never laugh and talk folly when you feel like sitting better, too. I am sure I hope that I, for one, shall down alone and weeping over this same folly? when do better some day. But I want to ask you, Marie. you long to go away and fall on your knees begging Jeanette mentions the Bartletts in her letter. Were for mercy, for strength, and clearness to reach a they'nobler life, a higher comfort! And who of all those { Marie. The Bartletts, of State Street, Concord. that look on your laughter and folly know this? Mrs. Jones's relatives, you remember. Who but the great Searcher of hearts knows how “Yes, indeed ; and how she was always talking much people everywhere suffer? Think what He about them, always losing herself amongst their said, dearest, and this was because “ He knew what } cool verandahs and shady balconies, mazy shrubwas in the heart of man:” “Thou shalt love thy b ery and splendid exotics, magnificent hangings of neighbor as thyself.” He does not add, “If he seem d amask, chenille, velvet, and embroidery; their angood ; if he seem sorrowful after going wrong; if he } tiques and their marbles, limestone marbles, ruinseem penitent;" but simply, “ Thou shalt love thy jasper marbles, and serpentine marbles; their ottoneighbor as thyself." What sublimity there is in mans, and taborets, and brioches ; carriage, lap-dog, this, when we think who and what our neighbors servants, and paintings— splendid paintings! by are i Have you never thought, dearest, how the Charles himself, and by the masters even, brought whole life of the good Saviour was one unwavering, from Italy! And then their circle, so select !-but beautiful comment on this text! Wherever we see really I must go—their friends and themselves conhim, you know, there He was loving his neighbor, tributing the very cream of the elite! Oh, you have doing good to his neighbor, to the rich and poor, to į no idea—but, I declare, eleven o'clock! and Fanny the good Mary and the woman of Samaria, to the knows no more about getting dinner than a child learned rabbi and the poor fisherman; for he saw But I never know how to get away from you. And the heart, and knew that all suffered in one way or { I haven't told you half. So like a palace their another, and that all had need of kindness and house is-granite front, marble steps, white as if love.

they were never stepped on; but, then, Vinia is so

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nice! She is just right for Uncle Eates, I am al- } you mean, I suppose. I don't know anybody so ways telling them both. And I sha'n't wonder- idle and hazy as you are then. but I shall go now; so, this very minute, good } .“Ah yes, I must except evening twilight time." morning-good morning. Do call; remember now. } Marie. And who, pray, holds her bands and Ah, good morning-a beautiful morning! I can rocks so much as yourself, and is so languid in midnever find the unfastening of your gate. Oh, don't summer? trouble yourself; here it is. Good morning, again!' } “Well, it is so hot then-so hot then; but now"Now, Marie, wasn't that just like Mrs. Jones ?”

MARIE. But now-yes; and even Vinia has her MARIE. Yes; but, although I laugh, I certainly nows, and so has everybody. don't think it very pretty in one who says so much “I suppose it is so. And this is the way it alabout benevolence, charity, politeness, and so on, as ways is, Marie ; between you and Truth, I can you do, to take one off in this way.

never exalt myself, that straightway I am not justly “ 'Tis for your good, child. Don't you see? I abased. I remember Mrs. Jones told us a pretty always do these things for your good, of course, or story of Mr. Bartlett's western travels; of his paintfor somebody's good.”

ing the portrait of a very beautiful young girl, just MARIE. Heavy shocks! To say the truth, there as she sat, a l'abandon, among the prairie flowers, is a certain proverb which I think you ought to with her hat and work-basket on the turf at either wear in your bosom-pin, or else to hang before you side. She said he carried the picture everywhere ; in a frame. Guess what it is.

she expected he said his prayers to it. He had re“ This, of course, . Let him that is without sin,' turned to Illinois, to make a wife of her,' nobody et cetera. I humble myself not a little over your doubted. But he came back looking blue. He had suggestion. But now let this all pass. And the had reasons of looking blue ever since ; for he Bartletts were really so superb!"

missed her. She had moved, with her family, to MARIE. Yes; they were eminently good, accom these regions somewhere ; nobody could tell him plished, and true-hearted. They had their faults, where." like other people, nevertheless. Vinin, as Mrs. MARIE. That is all true. And there is a great Jones calls her, and as we will call her, if you please deal more that you would be intensely interested in - Vipia had ennui, because she was idle ; because, hearing about, and which yet I cannot to-day stop with a brain active and powerful enough to bear ber} to tell you. out in any undertaking, she yet undertook nothing “ Do." but waking, dressing, eating, trying one thing and } MARIE. No. another to be rid of the long, dull days, and then } “Well, tell me about the Malones, then. I just sleeping again without relish and without thankful } know about them up to the time of the Bartletts ness. Thus, with all her wealth, talent, and strength going to Massabesic. I know that Captain Malone of mind and body, she yet drivelled. No one was paid his devoirs chiefly to Napoleon Bonaparte; very much better for her being in the world; and that he called his beautiful little spot. The Briers,' she herself, at times that is, was consumed by a } in memory of him; and that, to give the name an yearning to be away in Heaven, where she might appropriateness, he brought sweetbriers, an abunmove freely, and reach and clasp the beautiful and dance of them, to his yard and wayside. I know he . the pure, which here she perceived so dimly and named his son Napoleon, and his daughter Joseafar off, and which here she could never reach. She } phine ; and that, as one grew in beauty and the was a poor child; and there are a great many such other in manliness, as one elegance after another sufferers in this world, more than the “hewers of came to their home, he found greater and still stone and drawers of water" and the poor wayfarers greater satisfaction in calling them the emperor' think, else they would not so often repine when they and the empross.' I know, also, that still they see the rich roll by them in carriages, leaving them { were comparatively poor, still struggling. It would plodding far behind. It is the truth, that Vinia's } delight me not a little to learn that the rich artist ennui was a heavier burden on her than are all the had the wisdom to lay his little prairie flower away toils and privations of the industrious and virtuous in some old hortus siccus, and to take to himself, in poor on them.

lieu thereof, a fresh, sweetbrier of Massabesic. Did “I have no doubt of it; idleness is so horrible! } he, Marie ? Do tell me just this." I could never be idle and live. I have such ener Marie. No, I must study now. And you-you gies, such–I don't know what, bounding hither and can be writing what you already know; and in this thither through my veins and nerves, if I walk, I way, as you said in the beginning, illustrate some must go bounding, if it isn't becoming in a lady of point in domestic or agricultural economy. I can't my years and of my altitude. And, when I write, see that together we have done anything in this I must make my pen go scratch, scratch, like this, way. My encyclopedias-yes, here they are. Au Marie, if the editors and compositors can never { revoir, dearest. make it out what it all means."

MARIE. Except in the evening twilight hours,



with dust in an unfinished room, turning her hand

to the wheel, the loom, the wash-tub, and all the It was on the evening of the arrival of the Bart- { lowliest of

lowliest occupations of her lowly sphere. Every letts at Massabesic, that a pale, intelligent-looking night found her weary, yet not often unhappy; for lady of fifty sat alone in the pleasant little parlor she was satisfied with herself, and she blessed God of the Malones. Evidently she had sat down bur that it was for her to make sacrifices for the good dened with heat and lassitude. She had cast off ones who were dearer far to her than her own ease her slippers, and her feet lay apart on the cushion and comfort ; and every morning, with strengthened before her. The strings of a light purple morning purpose, she commenced the labors of a new day. dress, which she still kept on, were unfastened, and } In all this, there was gleaming afar one bright it hung loosely about her. One hand, with its long oasis--the purchase of a fifty-acre lot, which lay slender fingers, supported her head, while the other along the lake and across the hills. For this they rolled the corner of a handkerchief, on which her had all been working early and late, at home and eyes were vacantly fixed. This was the good, the abroad, dressing simply and dieting frugally. When patient, the industrious wife of Captain Malone, the the deed was fairly in their hands, they were all to daughter of Colonel Bamford, of Illinois.

draw long breaths; Josephine was to remain at We will just recapitulate how she met the young, home with them, and extended improvements were adventurous, and romantic Malone, one day when to be carried on in the house and all over the fiftyhe was en chasse for wild horses, and she for wild {acre lot. In one grove of pliant birches, a living flowers; how he easily and at once gained a heart arbor was to be formed by bending the trees and that bad resisted the attacks of a British officer and weaving their tops and their branches together. a Canadian buffalo hunter, of a pedagogue from In those old woods, a labyrinth was to be cut out, New Hampshire and a pettifogger from New York, beginning and ending at the lake. In the sheltered of a real live poet from Ohio, besides some six, nooks, plum-trees were to be planted ; and so all eight, or ten bucks of her native wilds; how she ļ around. Not a spot was to be left unimproved, and, trusted and married him for his open, handsome God helping them to health, rains, and sunshine, face, his manly form, his tender and sensitive heart, they would make a good living and lay up something for his strong arm, and for his cottage in the Granite there; and, besides, make such a beautiful spot of State, amongst the lakes, and hills, and mountains. it, that everybody should find delight in looking on. of this latter, Malone himself thought nothing. It Meanwhile, on the beautiful and light-hearted had been given him as a mere bauble when he was Josephine, the mantle of poetry, which the parents a boy, and as a bauble he had regarded it up to this had dropped, seemed to have fallen. Busy as a beo day.

from morning till night, always bounding, yet alShe married him. Years passed, and yet his wild ways collected and fruitful of expedients, she maspirit was seeking adventures in the far West. They naged in a thousand delightful ways to assist her went from State to Territory, and from Territory to parents when they were weary, to cheer them when State, as new and dazzling prospects of finding at they were sad, to beautify the garden and the home. last a very Eutopia were held up to him by some To the last, she had been able to contribute matevisionary like himself. Then he turned to his na rially in the last two years, by spending nine months tive bills; but not until he had dealt in acres by the of each year in the mills of Lowell. She had obthousand, so that his ten acres of stony soil, and his tained seeds, and slips, and roots in abundance. unfinished house, seemed only meet for a Lillipu She had seen new models of elegance in yard, gartian. As may be easily conceived, Mrs. Malone had } den, and house decorations. Upon these she had found her lot no sinecure in all this failure of worked. With her father's and Napoleon's aid, and scheines, all this moving about. Many and severe slight outlays occasionally for materials, she had had been her struggles with deferred hopes, poverty, brought the bome to be, as the Bartletts said, a littoil, with sacrifices of long and dearly-cherished tle gem. Now—when this chapter opened, that is tasks and occupations; and, in this ordeal, her flesh she was in her little room adjoining the parlor, fillhad, indeed, often become weak; but her spirit had ing a small, much-worn, fur-covered trunk with her become strong and ready for conflict. And, in the simple wardrobe. To-morrow, for the last time last four years of severe self-denial and toil, she had they all hoped, she was to go away again from them set her oft-faltering husband a perfect example of all, from the spot whose very dust she loved, to that trust and patient industry. A long time she gave strange city, Lowell. It was for this reason chiefly up her books, the dearest solace in her other de- } that, as she sat to rest, and as she went about preprivations, snatching only a few minutes now and paring supper, Mrs. Malone sang, in a voice of then for the perusal of their one weekly paper, her heart-touching mournfulnessBible, and an occasional new work in the cheap

“Oh, thou, that driest the mourner's tear, form, with whose purchase they indulged themselves.

How dark this world would be, She gave up her flowers, her fancy-work, and her If, when disturbed and wounded here, pencil, and let her guitar lie unstrung and covered ?

We could not turn to thee !"




“Here are your clothes, Josey, dear. I believe face on her lap, and, for a few moments, wept like they are perfectly aired

a little child.

“I was very selfish to complain," said Mrs. MaIf, when disturbed and wounded here, We could not turn to thee!'”

lone, in more cheerful tones. “I suppose you al,

ready had as much trouble of your own account as said and sang the mother, as she carried some you could well bear. There, that is right. We will clothes from the frame to her daughter. “Poor sit here now and rest until they come to supper. I child, you are tired! Sit down here now, and let don't know where your father is." And again her me pack the rest. No; I can't be put off with a face was clouded. “Have you noticed of late, and shake of your head. Your cheeks look as if the especially to-day, that your father isn't at all liko blood were coming through them. I shall bave time himself, so quiet and serious ? I don't know; he enough to rest after you are gone; while you"

don't seem unhappy really; but he don't talk, says Her voice failed. She left the room, saying some nothing of his business plans, and this is so unlike thing about supper and seven o'clock; and then, in him these last four years. I sometimes fear that a few moments, with a voice faltering as Josephino his old habits, old troubles, and perplexities are all had not heard it for years, she sang

coming back. But it can't be; be is so industrious! “How dark this world would be !"

so systematic in everything! Yet he looks at us

all in such a sad, still way, as I never saw binn do She turned again, restlessly, to Josephine's room. } before ; and, this morning, I saw his eyes fill seve

“I don't know why it is, Josephine, but I have ral times." never felt half so bad about your going away as I { « So did I. ma: but he looked so happy an do now; not even when you went the first time. good! I have no fears for pa—not ong fear for There, let me finish. It will be necessary to crowd the things to get all in."

"Only he may be sick," persisted Mrs. Malone, “And so, mother, this is the very reason I shall who was as unlike Mrs. Malone as she could not let you do it. You-I never saw you look so { well be. “He was pale, certainly, this morning, very, very tired as you do to-night. I am sorry; I and so changed! He seemed so very, very kind, ought to have taken one more day. But I am in a so tender of us all !" hurry to begin, that, as soon as possible, I may be “Well, we shall soon see that it is all right, my through. And then I can come home to stay, mo- } mother. The clock strikes; they will soon be here. ther!” She said no more ; but the mother and the There, Rido's bark! the emperor's laugh! and pa's, daughter wept together.

{ too, ma !-and pa's, too! There they are, father “Do you know, Josephine," said the mother, “I }

and Napoleon, stopping to talk with grandpa ; and am sure I don't think I am at all superstitious, but they point to the fifty-acre lot. And, in one year, a dread of something has gettled here like lead, and it will be ours, ma; and then good-by to the mills ! I have no power to remove it. You are smiling at And then sha'n't we be the happiest family in the me; but you must not think your mother a poor, State ? Say, pa,” she added, springing to the door weak woman ; indeed, you must not."

to meet them, “ sha'n't we be the happiest of all, “No, indeed, mother; but”

when once this year is over, and”— “And yet I am weak. The truth is, I am tired

Her father caught her nervously to his bosom, of this struggle. I dread what is before me, in hav- and kissed her forehead. She perceived, as he did ing you go away for so long. Your father and Na- this, that he trembled, and that tears were in his poleon will be gone so much ; and then the cold eyes. Mrs. Malone also saw it, and perfoctly underwinter days and stormy nights ! If you were here, stood the look of apprehension Josephine turned to I should never mind them. But, as it is, I lie awake

her. She felt paralyzed, sick, and faint at heart. and think of you, fearing that you haven't bed Pecuniary embarrassments had been the prolific clothes to keep you warm in the great boarding source whence all the troubles of her life had come. house ; that you are sick, perhaps dying at that mo The poet's complaintment; and sometimes I am so foolish, so excited, as

“I never loved a flower to get the horrible fancy that you may be perishing

Which was not the first to fade”— in the snow on your way to us; and I can scarcely keep myself from going and looking out for you in variously modified, had been hers. Excepting her the darkness and storm. I dread this. And taking husband and children, she had scarcely ever set her all the care on myself again; and there are many heart upon anything, other things; and, if it were not for your poor fa

“But, when it came to know her well, ther, Napoleon, and you, I would be glad to lay my

And love her, it was sure to die." head down on that pillow and go at once to the eternal rest. But, Josephine, my poor, dear child, And now, in those moments of fearful suspense, you are crying. Come here."

visions of accumulated bills, sheriffs, and sales of Josephine sat down at her mother's feet, laid her execution, of a dreary and poverty-laden old age,


passed before her bewildered thought, and she could burnishing lake, rock, and tree; and then wept one have shrieked with such horrible apprehensions, { minute in downright joy that, at last, they had got She passed her hands slowly across her forehead. it; that then it was fairly theirs; that they were all

“Peace be unto this house, I may well say now, } so happy then ; and, most of all, that now his darand thanksgiving to our God !" said the old gentle- } ling Josephine might stay at home, sing to him, man, whose slow steps had just gained the room. walk with him, breathe with him at any hour the Tears were streaming down furrows which seemed } pure air of heaven, and listen with him to the birds, made purposely for their channels. He laid his } the brooks, and the winds among the waves and the band on his granddaughter's head as he spoke. The emperor stood there-bas my reader ever seen Josephine likewise rejoiced in this. But with her a bright-eyed boy at lyceum or theatre, who felt there were counteracting emotions, remembrances from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet of pleasant and beloved faces at Lowell, which now that that was coming off on the boards which ought she would see no more. There were many loving certainly to be cheered and encored, and who yet hearts there amongst her fellow-operatives, that waited the example of his elders, with huzzas buzz- { longed now for her coming; that would mourn her ing upon his tongue, with his feet on tipped toes, loss as sister mourns for sister. For one there, who and with open palms grasping nervously his knees? { had mourned herself sick for the late loss of parents Thus stood the emperor there. His mother and { and home, her heart ached as the mother's does, Josephine saw it; still it did not much reassure } when, in pursuit of ease or pleasure, she takes herthem; for, like the other Emperor Napoleon, his self for a while from her vigils at the sick bed of sagacity often failed him in minor matters. Mr. the beloved and loving child, whose eye kindles Malone's was an expression that would have puz only at her approach, whose head finds a perfect zled Lavater even. He laid aside his hat, and } repose only when her hand smooths the pillow, and glanced at his wife ; put the hair back from his } whose spirit seems tearing its fragile body in its broad forehead, and glanced at his daughter; and, } yearning to cling to her only, her always. And as he looked on the table, and said something about yet perhaps her friend might recover sufficiently to supper being ready, he drew out his pocket-book} come to Massabesic. Happy thought! Then she and began to search for a—a bill of execution, } would take her out to pleasant rides and pleasant thought Mrs. Malone; and, 0 Heaven, have mercy! walks. She would feed her with warm new milk with every breath, thought Josephine, who shivered and ripe berries. She would lead her slowly about now from head to foot with apprehension.

{ among the romantic beauties of the fifty-acre lot; Meanwhile, very slowly, Mr. Malone opened a and together, as her friend became stronger, as her slip of paper, and read, in deliberate tones, a deed heart grew light, they would help work out those of the fifty-acre lot, for value received, duly signed improvements that had been planned in the last and attested. Mrs. Malone gave not a look, she four years. She would introduce her to the Lanes, spake not a word; but, covering her face deep in those good people; and Mr. Lane would strengthen her handkerchief, she wept in a thousand conflict { her with his strength, Mrs. Lane cheer her with her ing emotions : in penitence that, at last, when she { happiness, her loving kindness. had been so long and so faithfully sustained of her Josephine set the chairs about the table. NapoGod, when the cup of joy which had so long been leon showed his face in their midst. Mrs. Malone held out before her as the prize of her patience, her { wiped her tears ; but still her chin quivered, still self-denial, and her faith, was near her, even at her { her eyes filled ever and anon. lip 4, that then she had lost her trust; and in thanks “ But why did you keep it all from us so long, giving she wept, for the ten thousand mercies she Mr. Malone ?" asked she, as they seated themselves then saw in husband, children, parent, and home, seemed floating like white-winged angels in the “Why, we bave been so often cheated, you know, whole place, making it “none other than the house when we thought ourselves secure, I could not run of God, and the very gate of Heaven.” Josephine, the risk of again disappointing you." too, wept, and she laughed in the same moment. “Yes, we have been often cheated ; but you have

“Now, mother, now sis, if this isn't pretty well !" said that it was because you were led by your tastes This was all the emperor said. And he attempted rather than your judgment, and so planned groves, to laugh; wiped a tear with his finger-point, and labyrinths, and parterres, when you should have this was all; when all along he had been determined been working on corn-fields and turnip-yards. Now, on shouting, in all his might, hurrah ! lo triumphe ! } when we have all been so prudent, when you had hurrah for the fifty-acre lot! upon throwing his bat succeeded so well in your vegetables, how could you in the air, clapping his hands until they were blis fear"tered, and upon making bonfires on all the elevated 3 “I feared nothing but sickness. This, doctor's positions of the lot. But, instead, he went softly and nurse's bills, loss of time, and other costs, away to his chamber, looked out on the fifty-acre would, in a little time, have put off the purchaso lot, where lay now the golden light of sunsetting, another year.”

at table.

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