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diff --git a/22061-h/22061-h.htm b/22061-h/22061-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c74a45 --- /dev/null +++ b/22061-h/22061-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8178 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Carpenter's Daughter, by Anna Bartlett Warner. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; + } + + h2 { margin-top: 80px; } + + h3.books { margin-top: 60px; } + + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + .fpc { width: 50%; margin: auto; } + + table { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; } + + table.books { width: 90%; } + table.books th { font-weight: normal; } + table.books td { vertical-align: top; } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } + + .center { text-align: center; } + .right { text-align: right; } + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 0.6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1a {display: block; margin-left: 0.4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Carpenter's Daughter, by +Anna Bartlett Warner and Susan Bogert Warner + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Carpenter's Daughter + +Author: Anna Bartlett Warner + Susan Bogert Warner + +Release Date: July 13, 2007 [EBook #22061] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER *** + + + + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Jana Srna and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was made using scans of public domain works in +the International Children's Digital Library.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 408px; margin-top: 80px; margin-bottom: 80px;"> +<img src="images/nettie.jpg" width="408" height="600" alt="Nettie comforts her Mother." title="" /> +<span class="caption smcap">Nettie comforts her Mother.</span> +</div> + + + + +<h2>THE</h2> +<h1>CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER.</h1> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 60px; margin-bottom: 60px;">"Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called<br/> +the children of God."</p> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 60px;">BY THE AUTHORS OF "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD," ETC. ETC.</p> + + +<p class="center">WITH COLOURED FRONTISPIECE.</p> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 80px; margin-bottom: 80px;"><span style="font-size: larger;">LONDON:<br/> +GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS,</span><br/> +THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE.</p> + + + + +<p style="margin: auto; width: 320px; border: 1px solid black; padding: 16px;"> +<span style="margin-bottom: 16px;">BY THE AUTHORS OF "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD."</span><br/><br/> +Price ONE SHILLING each, with coloured Frontispiece<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.4em;">THE TWO SCHOOLGIRLS.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.4em;">THE CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.4em;">THE PRINCE IN DISGUISE.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.4em;">GERTRUDE AND HER BIBLE.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.4em;">MARTHA AND RACHEL.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.4em;">THE WIDOW AND HER DAUGHTER.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.4em;">THE LITTLE BLACK HEN.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.4em;">THE ROSE IN THE DESERT.</span><br /><br/> +GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS. +</p> + + + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 40px; margin-bottom: 80px;"></p> + + +<p class="center">London: Savill, Edwards & Co., Printers, Chandos Street. +</p> + + + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + + +<table summary="Contents" style="margin-bottom: 40px;"> +<tr> +<th class="right" style="padding-right: 20px;">CHAP.</th> +<th> </th> +<th class="right">PAGE</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right" style="padding-right: 20px;">I.</td> +<td>SATURDAY EVENING'S WORK</td> +<td class="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right" style="padding-right: 20px;">II.</td> +<td>SUNDAY'S REST</td> +<td class="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">20</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right" style="padding-right: 20px;">III.</td> +<td>NETTIE'S GARRET</td> +<td class="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">55</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right" style="padding-right: 20px;">IV.</td> +<td style="padding-right: 40px;">THE BROWN CLOAK IN NOVEMBER</td> +<td class="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">69</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right" style="padding-right: 20px;">V.</td> +<td>THE NEW BLANKET</td> +<td class="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">82</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right" style="padding-right: 20px;">VI.</td> +<td>THE HOUSE-RAISING</td> +<td class="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">97</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right" style="padding-right: 20px;">VII.</td> +<td>THE WAFFLES</td> +<td class="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">112</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right" style="padding-right: 20px;">VIII.</td> +<td>THE GOLDEN CITY</td> +<td class="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">135</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>THE CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER.</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 style="margin-top: 40px;"><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>SATURDAY EVENING'S WORK.</h3> + + +<p>Down in a little hollow, with the sides +grown full of wild thorn, alder bushes, and +stunted cedars, ran the stream of a clear +spring. It ran over a bed of pebbly stones, +showing every one as if there had been no +water there, so clear it was; and it ran with +a sweet soft murmur or gurgle over the stones, +as if singing to itself and the bushes as it ran.</p> + +<p>On one side of the little stream a worn +foot path took its course among the bushes; +and down this path one summer's afternoon +came a woman and a girl. They had pails +to fill at the spring; the woman had a large +wooden one, and the girl a light tin pail;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +and they drew the water with a little tin +dipper, for it was not deep enough to let a +pail be used for that. The pails were filled +in silence, only the spring always was singing; +and the woman and the girl turned and went +up the path again. After getting up the +bank, which was only a few feet, the path +still went gently rising through a wild bit of +ground, full of trees and low bushes; and +not far off, through the trees, there came a +gleam of bright light from the window of a +house, on which the setting sun was shining. +Half way to the house the girl and the woman +stopped to rest; for water is heavy, and the +tin pail which was so light before it was +filled, had made the little girl's figure bend +over to one side like a willow branch all the +way from the spring. They stopped to rest, +and even the woman had a very weary, jaded +look.</p> + +<p>"I feel as if I shall give up, some of these +days," she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"O no, mother!" the little girl answered, +cheerfully. She was panting, with her hand +on her side, and her face had a quiet, very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +sober look; only at those words a little pleasant +smile broke over it.</p> + +<p>"I shall," said the woman. "One can't +stand everything,—for ever."</p> + +<p>The little girl had not got over panting +yet, but standing there she struck up the +sweet air and words,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'There is rest for the weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There is rest for the weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There is rest for the weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is rest for you.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Yes, in the grave!" said the woman, bitterly. +"There's no rest short of that,—for +mind or body."</p> + +<p>"O yes, mother dear. 'For we which have +believed do enter into rest.' Jesus don't +make us wait."</p> + +<p>"I believe you eat the Bible and sleep on +the Bible," said the woman, with a faint +smile, taking at the same time a corner of +her apron to wipe away a stray tear which +had gathered in her eye. "I am glad it rests +you, Nettie."</p> + +<p>"And you, mother."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," Mrs. Mathieson answered,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +with a sigh. "But there's your father going +to bring home a boarder, Nettie."</p> + +<p>"A boarder, mother!—What for?"</p> + +<p>"Heaven knows!—if it isn't to break my +back, and my heart together. I thought I +had enough to manage before, but here's this +man coming, and I've got to get everything +ready for him by to-morrow night."</p> + +<p>"Who is it, mother?"</p> + +<p>"It's one of your father's friends; so it's +no good," said Mrs. Mathieson.</p> + +<p>"But where can he sleep?" Nettie asked, +after a moment of thinking. Her mother +paused.</p> + +<p>"There's no room but yours he can have. +Barry wont be moved."</p> + +<p>"Where shall I sleep, mother?"</p> + +<p>"There's no place but up in the attic. I'll +see what I can do to fit up a corner for you—if +I ever can get time," said Mrs. Mathieson, +taking up her pail. Nettie followed her +example, and certainly did not smile again +till they reached the house. They went +round to the front door, because the back +door belonged to another family. At the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +door, as they set down their pails again before +mounting the stairs, Nettie smiled at her +mother very placidly, and said—</p> + +<p>"Don't you go to fit up the attic, mother; +I'll see to it in time. I can do it just as well."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson made no answer but +groaned internally, and they went up the +flight of stairs which led to their part of the +house. The ground floor was occupied by +somebody else. A little entry way at the +top of the stairs received the wooden pail of +water, and with the tin one Nettie went into +the room used by the family. It was her +father and mother's sleeping-room, their bed +standing in one corner. It was the kitchen +apparently, for a small cooking-stove was +there, on which Nettie put the tea-kettle +when she had filled it. And it was the +common living-room also; for the next thing +she did was to open a cupboard and take out +cups and saucers and arrange them on a leaf +table which stood toward one end of the +room. The furniture was wooden and plain; +the woodwork of the windows was unpainted; +the cups and plates were of the commonest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +kind; and the floor had no covering but two +strips of rag carpeting; nevertheless the +whole was tidy and very clean, showing +constant care. Mrs. Mathieson had sunk +into a chair, as one who had no spirit to do +anything; and watched her little daughter +setting the table with eyes which seemed not +to see her. They gazed inwardly at something +she was thinking of.</p> + +<p>"Mother, what is there for supper?"</p> + +<p>"There is nothing. I must make some +porridge." And Mrs. Mathieson got up from +her chair.</p> + +<p>"Sit you still, mother, and I'll make it. I +can."</p> + +<p>"If both our backs are to be broken," said +Mrs. Mathieson, "I'd rather mine would +break first." And she went on with her preparations.</p> + +<p>"But you don't like porridge," said Nettie. +"You didn't eat anything last night."</p> + +<p>"That's nothing, child. I can bear an +empty stomach, if only my brain wasn't quite +so full."</p> + +<p>Nettie drew near the stove and looked on, +a little sorrowfully.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +"I wish you had something you liked, +mother! If only I was a little older, wouldn't +it be nice? I could earn something then, +and I would bring you home things that you +liked out of my own money."</p> + +<p>This was not said sorrowfully, but with a +bright gleam as of some fancied and pleasant +possibility. The gleam was so catching, Mrs. +Mathieson turned from her porridge-pot +which she was stirring, to give a very heartfelt +kiss to Nettie's lips; then she stirred on, +and the shadow came over her face again.</p> + +<p>"Dear," she said, "just go in Barry's room +and straighten it up a little before he comes +in—will you? I haven't had a minute to do +it, all day; and there wont be a bit of peace +if he comes in and it isn't in order."</p> + +<p>Nettie turned and opened another door, +which let her into a small chamber used as +somebody's bedroom. It was all brown, like +the other; a strip of the same carpet in the +middle of the floor, and a small cheap chest +of drawers, and a table. The bed had not +been made up, and the tossed condition of the +bedclothes spoke for the strength and energy +of the person that used them, whoever he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +was. A pair of coarse shoes were in the +middle of the whole; another pair, or rather +a pair of half-boots, out at the toes, were in +the middle of the floor; stockings, one under +the bed and one under the table. On the +table was a heap of confusion; and on the +little bureau were to be seen pieces of wood, +half cut and uncut, with shavings, and the +knife and saw that had made them. Old +newspapers, and school books, and a slate, +and two kites, with no end of tail, were lying +over every part of the room that happened +to be convenient; also an ink bottle and +pens; with chalk and resin and a medley of +unimaginable things beside, that only boys +can collect together and find delight in. If +Nettie sighed as all this hurly-burly met her +eye, it was only an internal sigh. She set +about patiently bringing things to order. +First made the bed, which it took all her +strength to do: for the coverlets were of a +very heavy and coarse manufacture of cotton +and woollen mixed, blue and white; and +then gradually found a way to bestow the +various articles in Barry's apartment, so that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +things looked neat and comfortable. But +perhaps it was a little bit of a sign of +Nettie's feeling, that she began softly to sing +to herself,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'There is rest for the weary.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Hollo!" burst in a rude boy of some +fifteen years, opening the door from the +entry,—"who's puttin' my room to rights?"</p> + +<p>A very gentle voice said, "I've done it, +Barry."</p> + +<p>"What have you done with that pine log?"</p> + +<p>"Here it is,—in the corner behind the +bureau."</p> + +<p>"Don't you touch it now, to take it for +your fire,—mind, Nettie! Where's my +kite?"</p> + +<p>"You wont have time to fly it now, Barry; +supper will be ready in two minutes."</p> + +<p>"What you got?"</p> + +<p>"The same kind we had last night."</p> + +<p>"<em>I</em> don't care for supper." Barry was +getting the tail of his kite together.</p> + +<p>"But please, Barry, come now; because it +will make mother so much more trouble if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +you don't. She has the things to clear away +after you're done, you know!"</p> + +<p>"Trouble! so much talk about trouble! <em>I</em> +don't mind trouble. I don't want any supper, +I tell you."</p> + +<p>Nettie knew well enough he would want it +by and by, but there was no use in saying +anything more, and she said nothing. Barry +got his kite together and went off. Then +came a heavier step on the stairs, which she +knew; and she hastily went into the other +room to see that all was ready. The tea was +made, and Mrs. Mathieson put the smoking +dish of porridge on the table, just as the door +opened and a man came in. A tall, burly, +strong man, with a face that would have been +a good face enough if its expression had been +different, and if its hue had not been that of +a purplish-red flush. He came to the table +and silently sat down as he took a survey of +what was on it.</p> + +<p>"Give me a cup of tea! Have you got no +bread, Sophia?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing but what you see. I hoped you +would bring home some money, Mr. Mathieson.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +I have neither milk nor bread; it's a +mercy there's sugar. I don't know what you +expect a lodger to live on."</p> + +<p>"Live on his board,—that'll give you +enough. But you want something to begin +with. I'd go out and get one or two things—but +I'm so confounded tired. I can't."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson, without a word, put on a +shawl and went to the closet for her bonnet.</p> + +<p>"I'll go, mother! Let me go, please. I +want to go," exclaimed Nettie, eagerly. "I +can get it. What shall I get, father?"</p> + +<p>Slowly and weariedly the mother laid off +her things, as quickly the child put hers on.</p> + +<p>"What shall I get, father?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you can go down the street to +Jackson's, and get what your mother wants: +some milk and bread; and then you'd better +fetch seven pounds of meal and a quart +of treacle. And ask him to give you a nice +piece of pork out of his barrel."</p> + +<p>"She can't bring all that!" exclaimed the +mother; "you'd better go yourself, Mr. +Mathieson. That would be a great deal more +than the child can carry, or I either."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +"Then I'll go twice, mother; it isn't far; +I'd like to go. I'll get it. Please give me +the money, father."</p> + +<p>He cursed and swore at her, for answer. +"Go along, and do as you are bid, without +all this chaffering! Go to Jackson's and tell +him you want the things, and I'll give him +the money to-morrow. He knows me."</p> + +<p>Nettie knew he did, and stood her ground. +Her father was just enough in liquor to be a +little thick-headed and foolish.</p> + +<p>"You know I can't go without the money, +father," she said, gently; "and to-morrow is +Sunday."</p> + +<p>He cursed Sunday and swore again, but +finally put his hand in his pocket and threw +some money across the table to her. He was +just in a state not to be careful what he did, +and he threw her crown-pieces where if he +had been quite himself he would have given +shillings. Nettie took them without any remark, +and her basket, and went out.</p> + +<p>It was just sundown. The village lay glittering +in the light, that would be gone in a +few minutes; and up on the hill the white<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +church, standing high, showed all bright in +the sunbeams from its sparkling vane at the +top of the spire down to the lowest step at +the door. Nettie's home was in a branch-road, +a few steps from the main street of the +village that led up to the church at one end +of it. All along that street the sunlight lay, +on the grass and the roadway and the sidewalks +and the tops of a few elm-trees. The +street was empty; it was most people's +supper-time. Nettie turned the corner and +went down the village. She went slowly; +her little feet were already tired with the +work they had done that day, and back and +arms and head all seemed tired too. But +Nettie never thought it hard that her mother +did not go instead of letting her go; she +knew her mother could not bear to be seen +in the village in the old shabby gown and +shawl she wore; for Mrs. Mathieson had seen +better days. And besides that, she would be +busy enough as it was, and till a late hour, +this Saturday night. Nettie's gown was +shabby too; yes, very, compared with that +almost every other child in the village wore;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +yet somehow Nettie was not ashamed. She +did not think of it now, as her slow steps took +her down the village street; she was thinking +what she should do about the money. Her +father had given her two or three times as +much, she knew, as he meant her to spend; +he was a good workman, and had just got in +his week's wages. What should Nettie do? +Might she keep and give to her mother what +was over? it was, and would be, so much +wanted! and from her father they could +never get it again. He had his own ways of +disposing of what he earned, and very little +of it indeed went to the wants of his wife and +daughter. What might Nettie do? She +pondered, swinging her basket in her hand, +till she reached a corner where the village +street turned off again, and where the store +of Mr. Jackson stood. There she found +Barry bargaining for some things he at least +had money for.</p> + +<p>"O Barry, how good!" exclaimed Nettie; +"you can help me carry my things home."</p> + +<p>"I'll know the reason first, though," answered +Barry. "What are you going to +get?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +"Father wants a bag of corn meal and a +piece of pork and some treacle; and you +know I can't carry them all, Barry. I've +got to get bread and milk besides."</p> + +<p>"Hurra!" said Barry, "now we'll have +fried cakes! I'll tell you what I'll do, Nettie—I'll +take home the treacle, if you'll make +me some to-night for supper."</p> + +<p>"O I can't, Barry! I've got so much else +to do, and it's Saturday night."</p> + +<p>"Very good—get your things home yourself +then."</p> + +<p>Barry turned away, and Nettie made her +bargains. He still stood by however and +watched her. When the pork and the meal +and the treacle were bestowed in the basket, +it was so heavy she could not manage to +carry it. How many journeys to and fro +would it cost her?</p> + +<p>"Barry," she said, "you take this home +for me, and if mother says so, I'll make you +the cakes."</p> + +<p>"Be quick then," said her brother, +shouldering the basket, "for I'm getting +hungry."</p> + +<p>Nettie went a few steps further on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +main road of the village, which was little +besides one long street and not very long +either; and went in at the door of a very +little dwelling, neat and tidy like all the rest. +It admitted her to the tiniest morsel of a +shop—at least there was a long table there +which seemed to do duty as a counter; and +before, not behind, it sat a spruce little woman +sewing. She jumped up as Nettie entered. +By the becoming smartness of her calico +dress and white collar, the beautiful order of +her hair, and a certain peculiarity of feature, +you might know before she spoke that the +little baker was a Frenchwoman. She spoke +English quite well, though not so fast as she +spoke her own tongue.</p> + +<p>"I want two loaves of bread, Mrs. August; +and a pint of milk, if you please."</p> + +<p>"How will you carry them, my child? you +cannot take them all at the time."</p> + +<p>"O yes, I can," said Nettie, cheerfully. "I +can manage. They are not heavy."</p> + +<p>"No, I hope not," said the Frenchwoman; +"it is not heavy, my bread! but two loaves +are not one, no more. Is your mother well?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +She then set busily about wrapping the +loaves in paper and measuring out the milk. +Nettie answered her mother was well.</p> + +<p>"And you?" said the little woman, looking +at her sideways. "Somebody is tired this +evening."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Nettie, brightly; "but I don't +mind. One must be tired sometimes. Thank +you, ma'am."</p> + +<p>The woman had put the loaves and the +milk carefully in her arms and in her hand, +so that she could carry them, and looked +after her as she went up the street.</p> + +<p>"One must be tired sometimes!" said she +to herself, with a turn of her capable little +head. "I should like to hear her say 'One +must be rested sometimes;' but I do not +hear that."</p> + +<p>So perhaps Nettie thought, as she went +homeward. It would have been very natural. +Now the sun was down, the bright gleam +was off the village; the soft shades of evening +were gathering and lights twinkled in windows. +Nettie walked very slowly, her arms full of +the bread. Perhaps she wished her Saturday's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +work was all done, like other people's. +All I can tell you is, that as she went along +through the quiet deserted street, all alone, +she broke out softly singing to herself the +words,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No need of the sun in that day<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">Which never is followed by night."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And that when she got home she ran up +stairs quite briskly, and came in with a very +placid face; and told her mother she had +had a pleasant walk—which was perfectly +true.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad, dear," said her mother, with a +sigh. "What made it pleasant?"</p> + +<p>"Why, mother," said Nettie, "Jesus was +with me all the way."</p> + +<p>"God bless you, child!" said her mother; +"you are the very rose of my heart!"</p> + +<p>There was only time for this little dialogue, +for which Mr. Mathieson's slumbers had +given a chance. But then Barry entered, +and noisily claimed Nettie's promise. And +without a cloud crossing her sweet brow, she +made the cakes, and baked them on the +stove, and served Barry until he had enough;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +nor ever said how weary she was of being on +her feet. There were some cakes left, and +Mrs. Mathieson saw to it that Nettie sat down +and ate them; and then sent her off to bed +without suffering her to do anything more; +though Nettie pleaded to be allowed to clear +away the dishes. Mrs. Mathieson did that; +and then sat down to make darns and patches +on various articles of clothing, till the old +clock of the church on the hill tolled out +solemnly the hour of twelve all over the +village.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> +<h3>SUNDAY'S REST.</h3> + + +<p>Nettie's room was the only room on +that floor besides her mother's and Barry's. +It was at the back of the house, with a +pleasant look-out over the trees and bushes +between it and the spring. Over these the +view went to distant hills and fields, that +always looked pretty in all sorts of lights, +Nettie thought. Besides that, it was a clean, +neat little room; bare to be sure, without +even Barry's strip of rag carpet; but on a +little black table lay Nettie's Bible and +Sunday-school books; and each window had +a chair; and a chest of drawers held all her +little wardrobe and a great deal of room to +spare besides; and the cot-bed in one corner +was nicely made up. It was a very comfortable-looking +room to Nettie.</p> + +<p>"So this is the last night I shall sleep +here!" she thought as she went in. "To-morrow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +I must go up to the attic. Well,—I +can pray there just the same; and God +will be with me there just the same."</p> + +<p>It was a comfort; but it was the only one +Nettie could think of in connexion with her +removal. The attic was no room, but only +a little garret used as a lumber place; not +boarded up, nor plastered at all; nothing +but the beams and the side-boarding for the +walls, and nothing but the rafters and the +shingles between it and the sky. Besides +which, it was full of lumber of one sort and +another. How Nettie was to move up there +the next day, being Sunday, she could not +imagine; but she was so tired that as soon +as her head touched her pillow she fell fast +asleep, and forgot to think about it.</p> + +<p>The next thing was the bright morning +light rousing her, and the joyful thought that +it was Sunday morning. A beautiful day it +was. The eastern light was shining over +upon Nettie's distant hills, with all sorts of +fresh lovely colours and promise of what the +coming hours would bring. Nettie looked +at them lovingly, for she was very fond of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +them and had a great many thoughts about +those hills. "As the mountains are round +about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about +his people;"—that was one thing they made +her think of. She thought of it now as she +was dressing, and it gave her the feeling of +being surrounded with a mighty and strong +protection on every side. It made Nettie's +heart curiously glad, and her tongue speak of +joyful things; for when she knelt down to +pray she was full of thanksgiving.</p> + +<p>The next thing was, that taking her tin +pail Nettie set off down to the spring to get +water to boil the kettle. It was so sweet +and pleasant—no other spring could supply +nicer water. The dew brushed from the +bushes and grass as she went by; and from +every green thing there went up a fresh +dewy smell that was reviving. The breath +of the summer wind, moving gently, touched +her cheek and fluttered her hair, and said +God had given a beautiful day to the world; +and Nettie thanked him in her heart and +went on rejoicing. Sunday was Nettie's +holiday, and Sunday-school and church were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +her delight. And though she went in all +weathers, and nothing would keep her, yet +sunshine is sunshine; and she felt so this +morning. So she gaily filled her pail at the +spring and trudged back with it to the house. +The next thing was to tap at her mother's +door.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson opened it, in her nightgown; +she was just up, and looked as if her +night's sleep had been all too short for her.</p> + +<p>"Why, Nettie!—is it late?" she said, as +Nettie and the tin pail came in.</p> + +<p>"No, mother; it's just good time. You +get dressed, and I'll make the fire ready. +It's beautiful out, mother."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson made no answer, and +Nettie went to work with the fire. It was +an easy matter to put in some paper and +kindle the light wood; and when the kettle +was on, Nettie went round the room softly +setting it to rights as well as she could. Then +glanced at her father, still sleeping.</p> + +<p>"I can't set the table yet, mother."</p> + +<p>"No, child; go off, and I'll see to the rest. +If I can get folks up, at least," said Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +Mathieson, somewhat despondingly. Sunday +morning that was a doubtful business, she +and Nettie knew. Nettie went to her own +room to carry out a plan she had. If she +could manage to get her things conveyed up +to the attic without her mother knowing it, +just so much labour and trouble would be +spared her, and her mother might have a +better chance of some rest that day. Little +enough, with a lodger coming that evening! +To get her things up there,—that was all +Nettie would do to-day; but that must be +done. The steep stairs to the attic went up +from the entry way, just outside of Nettie's +door. She went up the first time to see +what place there was to bestow anything.</p> + +<p>The little garret was strewn all over with +things carelessly thrown in, merely to get +them out of the way. There was a small +shutter window in each gable. One was +open, just revealing the utter confusion; but +half-showing the dust that lay on everything. +The other window, the back one, was fairly +shut up by a great heap of boxes and barrels +piled against it. In no part was there a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +clear space, or a hopeful opening. Nettie +stood aghast for some moments, not knowing +what to do. "But if I don't, mother will +have to," she thought. It nerved her little +arm, and one thought of her invisible protection +nerved her heart, which had sunk at +first coming up. Softly she moved and began +her operations, lest her mother down stairs +should hear and find out what she was about +before it was done. Sunday too! But there +was no help for it.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the pile of boxes, she +resolved to begin at the end with the closed +window; for near the other there were things +she could not move: an old stove, a wheelbarrow, +a box of heavy iron tools, and some +bags of charcoal and other matters. By a +little pushing and coaxing, Nettie made a +place for the boxes, and then began her task +of removing them. One by one, painfully, +for some were unwieldy and some were +weighty, they travelled across in Nettie's +arms, or were shoved, or turned over and +over across the floor, from the window to a +snug position under the eaves where she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +stowed them. Barry would have been a +good hand at this business, not to speak of +his father: but Nettie knew there was no +help to be had from either of them; and the +very thought of them did not come into her +head. Mr. Mathieson, provided he worked +at his trade, thought the "women-folks" +might look after the house; Barry considered +that when he had got through the heavy +labours of school, he had done his part of the +world's work. So Nettie toiled on with her +boxes and barrels. They scratched her arms; +they covered her clean face with dust; they +tried her strength; but every effort saved +one to her mother, and Nettie never stopped +except to gather breath and rest.</p> + +<p>The last thing of all under the window +was a great old chest. Nettie could not +move it, and she concluded it might stay +there very conveniently for a seat. All the +rest of the pile she cleared away, and then +opened the window. There was no sash; +nothing but a wooden shutter fastened with +a hook. Nettie threw it open. There, to +her great joy, behold she had the very same<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +view of her hills, all shining in the sun now. +Only this window was higher than her old +one, and lifted her up more above the tops of +the trees, and gave a better and clearer and +wider view of the distant open country she +liked so much. Nettie was greatly delighted, +and refreshed herself with a good look out +and a breath of fresh air before she began +her labours again. That gave the dust a +little chance to settle, too.</p> + +<p>There was a good deal to do yet before +she could have a place clear for her bed, not +to speak of anything more. However, it was +done at last; the floor brushed up, all ready, +and the top of the chest wiped clean; and +next Nettie set about bringing all her things +up the stairs and setting them here, where +she could. Her clothes, her little bit of a +looking-glass, her Bible and books and slate, +even her little washstand, she managed to +lug up to the attic; with many a journey and +much pains. But it was about done, before +her mother called her to breakfast. The +two lagging members of the family had been +roused at last, and were seated at the table.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +"Why, what have you been doing, child? +how you look!" said Mrs. Mathieson.</p> + +<p>"How do I look?" said Nettie.</p> + +<p>"Queer enough," said her father.</p> + +<p>Nettie laughed, and hastened to another +subject; she knew if they got upon this +there would be some disagreeable words +before it was over. She had made up her +mind what to do, and now handed her father +the money remaining from her purchases. +"You gave me too much, father, last night," +she said, simply; "here is the rest." Mr. +Mathieson took it and looked at it.</p> + +<p>"Did I give you all this?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father."</p> + +<p>"Did you pay for what you got, besides?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>He muttered something which was very +like an oath in his throat, and looked at his +little daughter, who was quietly eating her +breakfast. Something touched him unwontedly.</p> + +<p>"You're an honest little girl!" he said. +"There! you may have that for yourself;" +and he tossed her a shilling.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +You could see, by a little streak of pink +colour down each of Nettie's cheeks, that +some great thought of pleasure had started +into her mind. "For myself, father?" she +repeated.</p> + +<p>"All for yourself," said Mr. Mathieson, +buttoning up his money with a very satisfied +air. Nettie said no more, only ate her +breakfast a little quicker after that. It was +time, too; for the late hours of some of the +family always made her in a hurry about +getting to Sunday-school; and the minute +Nettie had done, she got her bonnet, her +Sunday bonnet—the best she had to wear—and +set off. Mrs. Mathieson never let her +wait for anything at home <em>that</em> morning.</p> + +<p>This was Nettie's happy time. It never +troubled her, that she had nothing but a sun-bonnet +of white muslin, nicely starched and +ironed, while almost all the other girls that +came to the school had little straw bonnets +trimmed with blue and pink and yellow and +green ribbons; and some of them wore silk +bonnets. Nettie did not even think of it; she +loved her Sunday lesson, and her Bible, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +her teacher, so much; and it was such a good +time when she went to enjoy them all together. +There was only a little way she had +to go; for the road where Mrs. Mathieson +lived, after running down a little further from +the village, met another road which turned +right up the hill to the church; or Nettie +could take the other way, to the main village +street, and straight up that. Generally she +chose the forked way, because it was the +emptiest.</p> + +<p>Nettie's class in the Sunday-school was of +ten little girls about her own age; and their +teacher was a very pleasant and kind gentleman, +named Mr. Folke. Nettie loved him +dearly; she would do anything that Mr. +Folke told her to do. Their teacher was +very apt to give the children a question to +answer from the Bible; for which they had +to look out texts during the week. This +week the question was, "Who are happy?" +and Nettie was very eager to know what +answers the other girls would bring. She +was in good time, and sat resting and +watching the boys and girls and teachers as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +they came in, before the school began. She +was first there of all her class; and watching +so eagerly to see those who were coming, that +she did not know Mr. Folke was near till he +spoke to her. Nettie started and turned.</p> + +<p>"How do you do?" said her teacher, +kindly. "Are you quite well, Nettie, this +morning?" For he thought she looked pale +and tired. But her face coloured with +pleasure and a smile shone all over it, as she +told him she was very well.</p> + +<p>"Have you found out who are the happy +people, Nettie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Folke; I have found a verse. +But I knew before."</p> + +<p>"I thought you did. Who are they, +Nettie?"</p> + +<p>"Those that love Jesus, sir."</p> + +<p>"Ay. In the Christian armour, you know, +the feet are 'shod with the preparation of the +Gospel of peace.' With the love of Jesus in +our hearts, our feet can go over very rough +ways and hardly feel that they are rough. +Do you find it so?"</p> + +<p>"O yes, sir!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +He said no more, for others of the class +now came up; and Nettie wondered how he +knew, or if he knew, that she had a rough +way to go over. But his words were a help +and comfort to her. So was the whole +lesson that day. The verses about the +happy people were beautiful. The seven +girls who sat on one side of Nettie repeated +the blessings told of in the fifth chapter of +Matthew, about the poor in spirit, the +mourners, the meek, those that hunger and +thirst after righteousness, the merciful, the +pure in heart, and the peacemakers. Then +came Nettie's verse. It was this:</p> + +<p>"Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob +for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his +God."</p> + +<p>The next girl gave the words of Jesus, "If +ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do +them."</p> + +<p>The last gave, "Blessed is he whose transgression +is forgiven, whose sin is covered."</p> + +<p>Then came Mr. Folke's verse, and Nettie +thought it was the most beautiful of all. +"Blessed are they that do his commandments,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +that they may have right to the tree +of life, and may enter in through the gates +into the city."</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Folke talked about that city; +its streets of gold, and the gates of pearl, +through which nothing that defileth can by +any means enter. He told how Jesus will +make his people happy there; how they will +be with him, and all their tears wiped away. +And Jesus will be their Shepherd; his sheep +will not wander from him anymore; "and +they shall see his face, and his name shall be +in their foreheads." Nettie could hardly +keep from crying as Mr. Folke went on; she +felt as if she was half in heaven already, and +it seemed very odd to cry for gladness; but +she could not help it. Then the school +closed with singing the hymn,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O how happy are they<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">Who the Saviour obey,<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">And have laid up their treasures above."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>From school they went to church, of course. +A strange minister preached that day, and +Nettie could not understand him always; +but the words of the hymn and Mr. Folke's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +words ran in her head then, and she was +very happy all church time. And as she was +walking home, still the tune and the words +ran in her ears,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Jesus all the day long<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">Is my joy and my song;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O that all his salvation might see!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So, thinking busily, Nettie got home and +ran up stairs. What a change! It looked +like a place very, very far from those gates of +pearl.</p> + +<p>Her mother sat on one side of the stove, +not dressed for church, and leaning her head +on her hand. Mr. Mathieson was on the +other side, talking and angry. Barry stood +back, playing ball by himself by throwing it +up and catching it again. The talk stopped +at Nettie's entrance. She threw off her +bonnet and began to set the table, hoping +that would bring peace.</p> + +<p>"Your father don't want any dinner," said +Mrs. Mathieson.</p> + +<p>"Yes I do!"—thundered her husband; +"but I tell you I'll take anything now; so +leave your cooking till supper—when Lumber<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +will be here. Go on, child! and get your +work done."</p> + +<p>There were no preparations for dinner, +and Nettie was at a loss; and did not like to +say anything for fear of bringing on a storm. +Her mother looked both weary and out of +temper. The kettle was boiling,—the only +thing about the room that had a pleasant +seeming.</p> + +<p>"Will you have a cup of tea, father?" said +Nettie.</p> + +<p>"Anything you like—yes, a cup of tea +will do; and hark'ye, child, I want a good +stout supper got this afternoon. Your mother +don't choose to hear me. Mr. Lumber is +coming, and I want a good supper to make +him think he's got to the right place. Do +you hear, Nettie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father."</p> + +<p>Nettie went on to do the best she could. +She warmed the remains of last night's +porridge and gave it to Barry with treacle, +to keep him quiet. Meanwhile she had +made the tea, and toasted a slice of bread +very nicely, though with great pains, for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +fire wasn't good; and the toast and a cup of +tea she gave to her father. He eat it with +an eagerness which let Nettie know she must +make another slice as fast as possible.</p> + +<p>"Hollo! Nettie—I say, give us some of +that, will you?" said Barry, finding his +porridge poor in taste.</p> + +<p>"Barry, there isn't bread enough—I can't," +whispered Nettie. "We've got to keep a +loaf for supper."</p> + +<p>"Eat what you've got, or let it alone!" +thundered Mr. Mathieson, in the way he had +when he was out of patience, and which +always tried Nettie exceedingly.</p> + +<p>"She's got more," said Barry. "She's +toasting two pieces this minute. I want +one."</p> + +<p>"I'll knock you over, if you say another +word," said his father. Nettie was frightened, +for she saw he meant to have the whole, +and she had destined a bit for her mother. +However, when she gave her father his second +slice, she ventured, and took the other with +a cup of tea to the forlorn figure on the other +side of the stove. Mrs. Mathieson took only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +the tea. But Mr. Mathieson's ire was roused +afresh. Perhaps toast and tea didn't agree +with him.</p> + +<p>"Have you got all ready for Mr. Lumber?" +he said, in a tone of voice very unwilling to +be pleased.</p> + +<p>"No," said his wife,—"I have had no +chance. I have been cooking and clearing +up all the morning. His room isn't ready."</p> + +<p>"Well, you had better get it ready pretty +quick. What's to do?"</p> + +<p>"Everything's to do," said Mrs. Mathieson.</p> + +<p>He swore at her. "Why can't you answer +a plain question? I say, <em>what's</em> to do?"</p> + +<p>"There's all Nettie's things in the room +at present. They are all to move up stairs, +and the red bedstead to bring down."</p> + +<p>"No, mother," said Nettie, gently,—"all +my things are up stairs already;—there's only +the cot and the bed, that I couldn't move."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson gave no outward sign of +the mixed feeling of pain and pleasure that +shot through her heart. Pleasure at her +child's thoughtful love, pain that she should +have to show it in such a way.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +"When did you do it, Nettie?"</p> + +<p>"This morning before breakfast, mother. +It's all ready, father, if you or Barry would +take up my cot and the bed, and bring down +the other bedstead. It's too heavy for me."</p> + +<p>"That's what I call doing business and +having some spirit," said her father. "Not +sitting and letting your work come to you. +Here, Nettie—I'll do the rest for you."</p> + +<p>Nettie ran with him to show him what +was wanted; and Mr. Mathieson's strong +arms had it all done very quickly. Nettie +eagerly thanked him; and then seeing him +in good-humour with her, she ventured something +more.</p> + +<p>"Mother's very tired to-day, father," she +whispered; "she'll feel better by and by if +she has a little rest. Do you think you +would mind helping me put up this bedstead?"</p> + +<p>"Well, here goes!" said Mr. Mathieson. +"Which piece belongs here, to begin with?"</p> + +<p>Nettie did not know much better than he; +but putting not only her whole mind but +also her whole heart into it, she managed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +find out and direct him successfully. Her +part was hard work; she had to stand holding +up the heavy end of the bedstead while her +father fitted in the long pieces; and then she +helped him to lace the cords, which had to +be drawn very tight; and precious time was +running away fast, and Nettie had had no +dinner. But she stood patiently, with a +thought in her heart which kept her in +peace all the while. When it was done, Mr. +Mathieson went out; and Nettie returned to +her mother. She was sitting where she had +left her. Barry was gone.</p> + +<p>"Mother, wont you have something to +eat?"</p> + +<p>"I can't eat, child. Have you had anything +yourself?"</p> + +<p>Nettie had seized a remnant of her father's +toast, and was munching it hastily.</p> + +<p>"Mother, wont you put on your gown and +come to church this afternoon? Do! It +will rest you. Do, mother!"</p> + +<p>"You forget I've got to get supper, child. +Your father doesn't think it necessary that +anybody should rest, or go to church, or do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +anything except work. What he is thinking +of, I am sure I don't know. There is no +place to eat in but this room, and he is going +to bring a stranger into it; and if I was +dying I should have to get up for every meal +that is wanted. I never thought I should +come to live so! And I cannot dress myself, +or prepare the victuals, or have a moment to +myself, but I have the chance of Mr. Lumber +and your father in here to look on! It is +worse than a dog's life!"</p> + +<p>It looked pretty bad, Nettie thought. She +did not know what to say. She began clearing +away the things on the table.</p> + +<p>"And what sort of a man this Mr. Lumber +is, I don't know. I dare say he is like his +name—one of your father's cronies—a drinker +and a swearer. And Mr. Mathieson will +bring him here, to be on my hands! It will +kill me before spring, if it lasts."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't there be a bed made somewhere +else for Barry, mother? and then we could +eat in there."</p> + +<p>"Where would you make it? I could +curtain off a corner of this room, but Barry +wouldn't have it, nor your father; and they'd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +all want to be close to the fire the minute +the weather grows the least bit cool. No—there +is nothing for me, but to live on till +Death calls for me!"</p> + +<p>"Mother—Jesus said, 'He that liveth and +believeth in me shall never die.'"</p> + +<p>"O yes!" said Mrs. Mathieson, with a kind +of long-drawn groan, "I don't know how it +will be about that! I get so put about, now +in these times, that it seems to me I don't +know my own soul!"</p> + +<p>"Mother, come to church this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"I can't, child. I've got to put up that +man's bed and make it."</p> + +<p>"That is all done, mother, and the floor +brushed up. Do come!"</p> + +<p>"Why, who put it up?"</p> + +<p>"Father and I."</p> + +<p>"Well! you do beat all, Nettie. But I +can't, child; I haven't time."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, plenty. There's all the +hour of Sunday-school before church begins. +Now do, mother!"</p> + +<p>"Well—you go off to school; and if I can, +maybe I will. You go right off, Nettie."</p> + +<p>Nettie went, feeling weary and empty by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +dint of hard work and a dinner of a small bit +of dry toast. But she thought little about +that. She wanted to ask Mr. Folke a +question.</p> + +<p>The lesson that afternoon was upon the +peacemakers; and Mr. Folke asked the +children what ways they knew of being a +peacemaker? The answer somehow was not +very ready.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it to stop people from quarrelling?" +one child asked.</p> + +<p>"How can you do that, Kizzy?"</p> + +<p>Kizzy seemed doubtful. "I could ask +them to stop," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, suppose you did. Would angry +people mind your asking?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir. If they were very +angry, I suppose they wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. One thing is certain, +Kizzy; you must have peace in your own +heart, to give you the least chance."</p> + +<p>"How, Mr. Folke?"</p> + +<p>"If you want to put out a fire, you must +not stick into it something that will catch?"</p> + +<p>"That would make the fire worse," said +one of the girls.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +"Certainly. So if you want to touch +quarrelsome spirits with the least hope of +softening them, you must be so full of the +love of Jesus yourself that nothing but love +can come out of your own spirit. You see it +means a good deal, to be a peacemaker."</p> + +<p>"I always thought that must be one of the +easiest things of the whole lot," said one of +the class.</p> + +<p>"You wont find it so, I think; or rather +you will find they are all parts of the same +character, and the blessing is one. But there +are more ways of being a peacemaker. +What do you do when the hinge of a door +creaks?"</p> + +<p>One said "she didn't know;" another said +"Nothing." "I stop my ears," said a third. +Mr. Folke laughed.</p> + +<p>"<em>That</em> would not do for a peacemaker," +he said. "Don't you know what makes +machinery work smoothly?"</p> + +<p>"Oil!" cried Kizzy.</p> + +<p>"Oil to be sure. One little drop of oil +will stop ever so much creaking and groaning +and complaining, of hinges and wheels and +all sorts of machines. Now, peoples' tempers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +are like wheels and hinges—but what sort of +oil shall we use?"</p> + +<p>The girls looked at each other, and then +one of them said, "Kindness."</p> + +<p>"To be sure! A gentle word, a look of +love, a little bit of kindness, will smooth +down a roughened temper or a wry face, and +soften a hard piece of work, and make all go +easily. And so of reproving sinners. The +Psalmist says, 'Let the righteous smite me; +it shall be a kindness: and let him reprove +me; it shall be an excellent oil, which shall +not break my head.' But you see the peacemaker +must be righteous himself, or he +hasn't the oil. Love is the oil; the love of +Jesus."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Folke," said Nettie, timidly, "wasn't +Jesus a peacemaker?"</p> + +<p>"The greatest that ever lived!" said Mr. +Folke, his eyes lighting up with pleasure at +her question. "He made all the peace +there is in the world, for he bought it, when +he died on the cross to reconcile man with +God. All our drops of oil were bought with +drops of blood."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +"And," said Nettie, hesitatingly, "Mr. +Folke, isn't that one way of being a peacemaker?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, to persuade people to be at +peace with him?"</p> + +<p>"That is the way above all others, my +child; that is truly to be the 'children of +God.' Jesus came and preached peace; and +that is what his servants are doing, and will +do, till he comes. And 'they shall be called +the children of God.' 'Beloved, if God so +loved us, we ought also to love one another.'"</p> + +<p>Mr. Folke paused, with a face so full of +thought, of eagerness, and of love, that none +of the children spoke and some of them +wondered. And before Mr. Folke spoke +again the superintendent's little bell rang; +and they all stood up to sing. But Nettie +Mathieson hardly could sing; it seemed to +her so glorious a thing to be <em>that</em> sort of a +peacemaker. Could she be one? But the +Lord blessed the peacemakers; then it must +be his will that all his children should be +such; then he would enable her to be one!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +It was a great thought. Nettie's heart +swelled, with hope and joy and prayer. She +knew whose peace she longed for, first of all.</p> + +<p>Her mother had now come to church; so +Nettie enjoyed all the services with nothing +to hinder. Then they walked home together, +not speaking much to each other, but every +step of the way pleasant in the Sunday afternoon +light, till they got to their own door. +Nettie knew what her mother's sigh meant, +as they mounted the stairs. Happily, +nobody was at home yet but themselves.</p> + +<p>"Now, mother," said Nettie, when she had +changed her dress and come to the common +room,—"what's to be for supper? I'll get it. +You sit still and read, if you want to, while +it's quiet. What must we have?"</p> + +<p>"There is not a great deal to do," said +Mrs. Mathieson. "I boiled the pork this +morning, and that was what set your father +up so; that's ready; and he says there must +be cakes. The potatoes are all ready to put +down—I was going to boil 'em this morning, +and he stopped me."</p> + +<p>Nettie looked grave about the cakes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +"However, mother," she said, "I don't believe +that little loaf of bread would last, even if +you and I didn't touch it; it is not very big."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson wearily sat down and took +her Testament, as Nettie begged her; and +Nettie put on the kettle and the pot of +potatoes, and made the cakes ready to bake. +The table was set, and the treacle and everything +on it, except the hot things, when +Barry burst in.</p> + +<p>"Hollo, cakes!—hollo, treacle!" he shouted. +"Pork and treacle—that's the right sort of +thing. Now we're going to live something +like."</p> + +<p>"Hush, Barry, don't make such a noise," +said his sister. "You know it's Sunday +evening."</p> + +<p>"Sunday! well, what about Sunday? +What's Sunday good for, except to eat, I +should like to know?"</p> + +<p>"O Barry!"</p> + +<p>"O Barry!" said he, mimicking her. "Come, +shut up, and fry your cake. Father and +Lumber will be here just now."</p> + +<p>Nettie hushed, as she was bade; and as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +soon as her father's step was heard below, +she went to frying cakes with all her might. +She just turned her head to give one look at +Mr. Lumber as he came in. He appeared +to her very like her father, but without the +recommendation which her affection gave +to Mr. Mathieson. A big, strong, burly fellow, +with the same tinges of red about his face, +that the summer sun had never brought +there. Nettie did not want to look again.</p> + +<p>She had a good specimen this evening of +what they might expect in future. Mrs. +Mathieson poured out the tea, and Nettie +baked the cakes; and perhaps because she +was almost faint for want of something to +eat, she thought no three people ever ate so +many griddle cakes before at one meal. In +vain plateful after plateful went upon the +board, and Nettie baked them as fast as she +could; they were eaten just as fast; and +when finally the chairs were pushed back, +and the men went down stairs, Nettie and +her mother looked at each other.</p> + +<p>"There's only one left, mother," said Nettie.</p> + +<p>"And he has eaten certainly half the piece<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +of pork," said Mrs. Mathieson. "Come, child, +take something yourself; you're ready to +drop. I'll clear away."</p> + +<p>But it is beyond the power of any disturbance +to take away the gladness of a heart +where Jesus is. Nettie's bread was sweet to +her, even that evening. Before she had well +finished her supper, her father and his lodger +came back. They sat down on either side +the fire and began to talk,—of politics, and of +their work on which they were then engaged, +with their employers and their fellow-workmen; +of the state of business in the village, +and profits and losses, and the success of particular +men in making money. They talked +loudly and eagerly; and Nettie had to go +round and round them, to get to the fire for +hot water and back to the table to wash up +the cups and plates. Her mother was helping +at the table, but to get round Mr. Lumber +to the pot of hot water on the fire every now +and then, fell to Nettie's share. It was not +a very nice ending of her sweet Sabbath day, +she thought. The dishes were done and put +away, and still the talk went on as hard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +as ever. It was sometimes a pleasure to +Nettie's father to hear her sing hymns of a +Sunday evening. Nettie watched for a +chance, and the first time there was a lull of +the voices of the two men, she asked, softly, +"Shall I sing, father?" Mr. Mathieson +hesitated, and then answered, "No, better +not, Nettie; Mr. Lumber might not find it +amusing;" and the talk began again. Nettie +waited a little longer, feeling exceedingly +tired; then she rose and lit a candle.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing, Nettie?" her mother +said.</p> + +<p>"I am going to bed, mother."</p> + +<p>"You can't take a candle up there, child! +the attic's all full of things, and you'd certainly +set us on fire."</p> + +<p>"I'll take great care, mother."</p> + +<p>"But you can't, child! The wind might +blow the snuff of your candle right into something +that would be all a flame by the +time you're asleep. You must manage without +a light somehow."</p> + +<p>"But I can't see to find my way," said +Nettie, who was secretly trembling with fear.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +"I'll light you then, for once, and you'll +soon learn the way. Give me the candle."</p> + +<p>Nettie hushed the words that came crowding +into her mouth, and clambered up the +steep stairs to the attic. Mrs. Mathieson +followed her with the candle till she got to +the top, and there she held it till Nettie had +found her way to the other end where her +bed was. Then she said good-night and +went down.</p> + +<p>The little square shutter of the window +was open, and a ray of moonlight streamed +in upon the bed. It was nicely made up; +Nettie saw that her mother had been there +and had done that for her and wrought a +little more space and order among the things +around the bed. But the moonlight did not +get in far enough to show much more. Just +a little of this thing and of that could be +seen; a corner of a chest, or a gleam on the +side of a meal bag; the half light showed +nothing clearly except the confused fulness +of the little attic. Nettie had given her head +a blow against a piece of timber as she came +through it; and she sat down upon her little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +bed, feeling rather miserable. Her fear was +that the rats might visit her up there. She +did not certainly know that there were rats +in the attic, but she had been fearing to think +of them and did not dare to ask; as well as +unwilling to give trouble to her mother; for +if they <em>did</em> come there, Nettie did not see +how the matter could be mended. She sat +down on her little bed, so much frightened +that she forgot how tired she was. Her ears +were as sharp as needles, listening to hear +the scrape of a rat's tooth upon a timber or +the patter of his feet over the floor.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes Nettie almost thought +she could not sleep up there alone, and must +go down and implore her mother to let her +spread her bed in a corner of her room. But +what a bustle that would make. Her mother +would be troubled, and her father would be +angry, and the lodger would be disturbed, +and there was no telling how much harm +would come of it. No; the peacemaker of +the family must not do that. And then the +words floated into Nettie's mind again, +"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +be called the children of God." Like a strain +of the sweetest music it floated in; and if an +angel had come and brought the words +straight to Nettie, she could not have been +more comforted. She felt the rats could not +hurt her while she was within hearing of +that music; and she got up and kneeled +down upon the chest under the little window +and looked out.</p> + +<p>It was like the day that had passed; not +like the evening. So purely and softly the +moonbeams lay on all the fields and trees +and hills, there was no sign of anything but +peace and purity to be seen. No noise of +men's work or voices; no clangour of the +iron foundry which on weekdays might be +heard; no sight of anything unlovely; but +the wide beauty which God had made, and +the still peace and light which he had spread +over it. Every little flapping leaf seemed to +Nettie to tell of its Maker; and the music of +those words seemed to be all through the +still air—"Blessed are the peacemakers, for +they shall be called the children of God." +Tears of gladness and hope slowly gathered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +in Nettie's eyes. The children of God will +enter in, by and by, through those pearly +gates, into that city of gold,—"where they +need no candle, neither light of the sun, for +the Lord God giveth them light." "So he can +give me light here—or what's better than +light," thought Nettie. "God isn't only out +there, in all that beautiful moonlight world—he +is here in my poor little attic too; and +he will take just as good care of me as he +does of the birds, and better, for I am his +child, and they are only his beautiful little +servants."</p> + +<p>Nettie's fear was gone. She prayed her +evening prayer; she trusted herself to the +Lord Jesus to take care of her; and then she +undressed herself and lay down and went to +sleep, just as quietly as any sparrow of them +all with its head under its wing.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> +<h3>NETTIE'S GARRET.</h3> + + +<p>Nettie's attic grew to be a good place to +her. She never heard the least sound of rats; +and it was so nicely out of the way. Barry +never came up there, and there she could not +even hear the voices of her father and Mr. +Lumber. She had a tired time of it down +stairs.</p> + +<p>That first afternoon was a good specimen +of the way things went on. Nettie's mornings +were always spent at school; Mrs. +Mathieson would have that, as she said, +whether she could get along without Nettie +or no. From the time Nettie got home till +she went to bed, she was as busy as she could +be. There was so much bread to make, and +so much beef and pork to boil, and so much +washing of pots and kettles; and at meal +times there were very often cakes to fry, besides +all the other preparations. Mr. Mathieson<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +seemed to have made up his mind +that his lodger's rent should all go to the +table and be eaten up immediately; but +the difficulty was to make as much as he expected +of it in that line; for now he brought +none of his own earnings home, and Mrs. +Mathieson had more than a sad guess where +they went. By degrees he came to be very +little at home in the evenings, and he carried +off Barry with him. Nettie saw her mother +burdened with a great outward and inward +care at once, and stood in the breach all she +could. She worked to the extent of her +strength, and beyond it, in the endless getting +and clearing away of meals; and watching +every chance, when the men were out of the +way, she would coax her mother to sit down +and read a chapter in her Testament. "It +will rest you so, mother," Nettie would say; +"and I will make the bread just as soon as I +get the dishes done. Do let me! I like to +do it."</p> + +<p>Sometimes Mrs. Mathieson could not be +persuaded; sometimes she would yield, in +a despondent kind of way, and sit down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +with her Testament and look at it as if +neither there nor anywhere else in the universe +could she find rest or comfort any more.</p> + +<p>"It don't signify, child," she said, one afternoon +when Nettie had been urging her to sit +down and read. "I haven't the heart to do +anything. We're all driving to rack and ruin +just as fast as we can go."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, mother!" said Nettie. "I don't +think we are."</p> + +<p>"I am sure of it. I see it coming every +day. Every day it is a little worse; and +Barry is going along with your father; and +they are destroying me among them, body +and soul too."</p> + +<p>"No, mother," said Nettie, "I don't think +that. I have prayed the Lord Jesus, and +you know he has promised to hear prayer; +and I know we are not going to ruin."</p> + +<p>"<em>You</em> are not, child, I believe; but you +are the only one of us that isn't. I wish I +was dead, to be out of my misery!"</p> + +<p>"Sit down, mother, and read a little bit; +and don't talk so. Do, mother! It will be +an hour and more yet to supper, and I'll get<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +it ready. You sit down and read, and I'll +make the shortcakes. Do, mother! and +you'll feel better."</p> + +<p>It was half despair and half persuasion +that made her do it; but Mrs. Mathieson +did sit down by the open window and take +her Testament; and Nettie flew quietly +about, making her shortcakes and making +up the fire and setting the table, and through +it all casting many a loving glance over to +the open book in her mother's hand and the +weary, stony face that was bent over it. +Nettie had not said how her own back was +aching, and she forgot it almost in her business +and her thoughts; though by the time +her work was done her head was aching +wearily too. But cakes and table and fire +and everything else were in readiness; and +Nettie stole up behind her mother and leaned +over her shoulder; leaned a little heavily.</p> + +<p><a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> "Don't that chapter comfort you, mother?" +she whispered.</p> + +<p>"No. It don't seem to me as I've got any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +feeling left," said Mrs. Mathieson. It was +the fourth chapter of John at which they +were both looking.</p> + +<p>"Don't it comfort you to read of Jesus +being wearied?" Nettie went on, her head +lying on her mother's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Why should it, child?"</p> + +<p>"I like to read it," said Nettie. "Then I +know he knows how I feel sometimes."</p> + +<p>"God knows everything, Nettie."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother; but then Jesus <em>felt</em> it. 'He +took our infirmities.' And oh, mother, don't +you love that tenth verse?—and the thirteenth +and fourteenth?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson looked at it, silently; then +she said, "I don't rightly understand it, +Nettie. I suppose I ought to do so,—but I +don't."</p> + +<p>"Why, mother! I understand it. It +means, that if Jesus makes you happy, +you'll never be unhappy again. 'Whosoever +drinketh of the water that I shall give him, +<em>shall never thirst</em>,'—don't you see, mother? +'Shall never thirst,'—he will have enough, +and be satisfied."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +"How do you know it, Nettie?" her mother +asked, in a puzzled kind of way.</p> + +<p>"I know it, mother, because Jesus has +given that living water to me."</p> + +<p>"He never gave it to me," said Mrs. +Mathieson, in the same tone.</p> + +<p>"But he <em>will</em>, mother. Look up there—oh, +how I love that tenth verse!—'If thou +knewest the gift of God, and who it is that +saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest +have asked of him, and he would have given +thee living water.' See, mother,—he will +give, if we ask."</p> + +<p>"And do you feel so, Nettie?—that you +have enough, and are satisfied with your life +every day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother," Nettie said, quietly; "I +am very happy. I am happy all the time; +because I think that Jesus is with me everywhere; +when I'm upstairs, and when I'm +busy here, and when I'm at school, and when +I go to the spring; and all times. And +that makes me very happy."</p> + +<p>"And don't you wish for anything you +haven't got?" said her mother.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +"Yes, one thing," said Nettie. "I just +wish that you and father and Barry may be +so happy too; and I believe that's coming; +for I've prayed the Lord, and I believe he +will give it to me. I want it for other people +too. I often think, when I am looking at +somebody, of those words—'If thou knewest +the gift of God, thou wouldest have asked +of him, and he would have given thee living +water.'"</p> + +<p>With that, Mrs. Mathieson cast down her +book and burst into such a passion of weeping +that Nettie was frightened. It was like the +breaking up of an icy winter. She flung her +apron over her head and sobbed aloud; till +hearing the steps of the men upon the +staircase she rushed off to Barry's room, and +presently got quiet, for she came out to +supper as if nothing had happened.</p> + +<p>From that time there was a gentler mood +upon her mother, Nettie saw; though she +looked weary and careworn as ever, there +was not now often the hard, dogged look +which had been wont to be there for months +past. Nettie had no difficulty to get her to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +read the Testament; and of all things, what +she liked was to get a quiet hour of an evening +alone with Nettie and hear her sing hymns. +But both Nettie and she had a great deal, as +Mrs. Mathieson said, "to put up with."</p> + +<p>As weeks went on, the father of the family +was more and more out at nights, and less +and less agreeable when he was at home. He +and his friend Lumber helped each other in +mischief: they went together to Jackson's +shop and spent time in lounging and gossiping +and talking politics there; and what was +worse, they made the time and the politics +go down with draughts of liquor. Less and +less money came to Mrs. Mathieson's hand; +but her husband always required what he +called a good meal to be ready for him and +his lodger whenever he came home, and +made no difference in his expectations +whether he had provided the means or not. +The lodger's rent and board had been at +first given for the household daily expenses; +but then Mr. Mathieson began to pay over a +smaller sum, saying that it was all that was +due; and Mrs. Mathieson suspected that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +rest had been paid away already for brandy. +Then Mr. Mathieson told her to trade at +Jackson's on account, and he would settle +the bill. Mrs. Mathieson held off from this +as long as it was possible. She and Nettie +did their very best to make the little that +was given them go a good way; they wasted +not a crumb nor a penny, and did not spend +on themselves what they really wanted; that +they might not have the fearful storm of +anger which was sure to come if the dinner +was not plentiful and the supper did not +please the taste of Mr. Mathieson and his +lodger. By degrees it came to be very customary +for Mrs. Mathieson and Nettie to +make their meal of porridge and bread, after +all the more savoury food had been devoured +by the others; and many a weary patch and +darn filled the night hours because they had +not money to buy a cheap dress or two. +Nettie bore it very patiently. Mrs. Mathieson +was sometimes impatient.</p> + +<p>"This wont last me through the week, to +get the things you want," she said one +Saturday to her husband, when he gave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +her what he said was Lumber's payment to +him.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to make it last," said he, +gruffly.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me how I'm going to do +that? Here isn't more than half what you +gave me at first."</p> + +<p>"Send to Jackson's for what you want!" +he roared at her; "didn't I tell you so? and +don't come bothering me with your noise."</p> + +<p>"When will you pay Jackson?"</p> + +<p>"I'll pay you first!" he said, with an oath, +and very violently. It was a ruder word +than he had ever said to her before, and Mrs. +Mathieson was staggered for a moment by it; +but there was another word she was determined +to say.</p> + +<p>"You may do what you like to me," she +said, doggedly; "but I should think you +would see for yourself that Nettie has too +much to get along with. She is getting just +as thin and pale as she can be."</p> + +<p>"That's just your fool's nonsense!" said +Mr. Mathieson; but he spoke it more quietly. +Nettie just then entered the room.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +"Here, Nettie, what ails you? Come +here. Let's look at you. Aint you as strong +as ever you was? Here's your mother says +you're getting puny."</p> + +<p>Nettie's smile and answer were so placid +and untroubled, and the little colour that +rose in her cheeks at her father's question +made her look so fresh and well, that he was +quieted. He drew her to his arms, for his +gentle dutiful little daughter had a place in +his respect and affection both, though he did +not often show it very broadly; but now he +kissed her.</p> + +<p>"There!" said he; "don't you go to +growing thin and weak without telling me, +for I don't like such doings. You tell me +when you want anything." But with that, +Mr. Mathieson got up and went off, out of the +house; and Nettie had small chance to tell +him if she wanted anything. However, this +little word and kiss were a great comfort and +pleasure to her. It was the last she had +from him in a good while.</p> + +<p>Nettie, however, was not working for +praise or kisses, and very little of either she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +got. Generally her father was rough, imperious, +impatient, speaking fast enough if +anything went wrong, but very sparing in +expressions of pleasure. Sometimes a blessing +did come upon her from the very depth +of Mrs. Mathieson's heart, and went straight +to Nettie's; but it was for another blessing +she laboured, and prayed, and waited.</p> + +<p>So weeks went by. So her patient little +feet went up and down the stairs with pails +of water from the spring; and her hands +made bread and baked cakes, and set rooms +in order; and it was Nettie always who went +to Mr. Jackson's for meal and treacle, and to +Mrs. Auguste's, the little Frenchwoman's, as +she was called, for a loaf when they were +now and then out of bread. And with her +mornings spent at school, Nettie's days were +very busy ones; and the feet that at night +mounted the steps to her attic room were +aching and tired enough. All the more that +now Nettie and her mother lived half the +the time on porridge; all the provision they +dared make of other things being quite consumed +by the three hearty appetites that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +were before them at the meal. And Nettie's +appetite was not at all hearty, and sometimes +she could hardly eat at all.</p> + +<p>As the summer passed away it began to +grow cold, too, up in her garret. Nettie had +never thought of that. As long as the summer +sun warmed the roof well in the day, and +only the soft summer wind played in and +out of her window at night, it was all very +well; and Nettie thought her sleeping-chamber +was the best in the whole house, for it was +nearest the sky. But August departed with +its sunny days, and September grew cool at +evening; and October brought still sunny +days, it is true, but the nights had a clear +sharp frost in them; and Nettie was obliged +to cover herself up warm in bed and look at +the moonlight and the stars as she could see +them through the little square opening left +by the shutter. The stars looked very lovely +to Nettie, when they peeped at her so, in her +bed, out of their high heaven; and she was +very content.</p> + +<p>Then came November; and the winds +began to come into the garret, not only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +through the open window, but through every +crack between two boards. The whole garret +was filled with the winds, Nettie thought. +It was hard managing then. Shutting the +shutter would bar out the stars, but not the +wind, she found; and to keep from being +quite chilled through at her times of prayer +morning and evening, Nettie used to take +the blanket and coverlets from the bed and +wrap herself in them. It was all she could +do. Still, she forgot the inconveniences; +and her little garret chamber seemed to +Nettie very near heaven, as well as near the +sky.</p> + +<p>But all this way of life did not make her +grow strong, nor rosy; and though Nettie +never told her father that she wanted anything, +her mother's heart measured the times +when it ought to be told.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> +<h3>THE BROWN CLOAK IN NOVEMBER.</h3> + + +<p>November days drew toward an end; December +was near. One afternoon Mrs. +Mathieson, wanting Nettie, went to the foot +of the garret stairs to call her, and stopped, +hearing Nettie's voice singing. It was a +clear, bird-like voice, and Mrs. Mathieson +listened; at first she could not distinguish +the words, but then came a refrain which +was plain enough.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Glory, glory, glory, glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glory be to God on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">Glory, glory, glory, glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing his praises through the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">Glory, glory, glory, glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glory to the Father give,<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">Glory, glory, glory, glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing his praises all that live."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson's heart gave way. She sat +down on the lowest step and cried, for very +soreness of heart. But work must be done;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +and when the song had ceased, for it went +on some time, Mrs. Mathieson wiped her +tears with her apron and called, "Nettie!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother. Coming."</p> + +<p>"Fetch down your school-cloak, child."</p> + +<p>She went back to her room, and presently +Nettie came in with the cloak, looking placid +as usual, but very pale.</p> + +<p>"Are you singing up there to keep yourself +warm, child?"</p> + +<p>"Well, mother, I don't know but it does," +Nettie answered, smiling. "My garret did +seem to me full of glory just now; and it +often does, mother."</p> + +<p>"The Lord save us!" exclaimed Mrs. +Mathieson, bursting into tears again. "I +believe you're in a way to be going above, +before my face!"</p> + +<p>"Now, mother, what sort of a way is that +of talking?" said Nettie, looking troubled. +"You know I can't die till Jesus bids me; +and I don't think he is going to take me +now. What did you want me to do?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. You aint fit. I must go and +do it myself."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +"Yes I am fit. I like to do it," said +Nettie. "What is it, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Somebody's got to go to Mr. Jackson's—but +you aint fit, child; you eat next to none +at noon. You can't live on porridge."</p> + +<p>"I like it, mother; but I wasn't hungry. +What's wanting from Jackson's?"</p> + +<p>Nettie put on her cloak, and took her +basket and went out. It was after sundown +already, and a keen wind swept through the +village street, and swept through Nettie's +brown cloak too, tight as she wrapped it +about her. But though she was cold and +blue, and the wind seemed to go through +<em>her</em> as well as the cloak, Nettie was thinking +of something else. She knew that her +mother had eaten a very scanty, poor sort of +dinner, as well as herself, and that <em>she</em> often +looked pale and wan; and Nettie was almost +ready to wish she had not given the last +penny of her shilling, on Sunday, to the +missionary-box. When her father had given +her the coin, she had meant then to keep it +to buy something now and then for her +mother; but it was not immediately needed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +and one by one the pennies had gone to +buy tracts, or as a mite to the fund for +sending Bibles or missionaries to those who +did not know how to sing Nettie's song of +"glory."</p> + +<p>She wondered to herself now if she had +done quite right; she could not help thinking +that if she had one penny she could buy a +smoked herring, which, with a bit of bread +and tea, would make a comfortable supper +for her mother, which she could relish. Had +she done right? But one more thought of +the children and grown people who have not +the Bible,—who know nothing of the golden +city with its gates of pearl, and are nowise +fit to enter by those pure entrances where +"nothing that defileth" can go in,—and +Nettie wished no more for a penny back that +she had given to bring them there. She +hugged herself in her cloak, and as she went +quick along the darkening ways, the light +from that city seemed to shine in her heart +and make warmth through the cold. She +was almost sorry to go to Mr. Jackson's shop; +it had grown rather a disagreeable place to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +her lately. It was half full of people, as +usual at that hour.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" said Mr. Jackson, +rather curtly, when Nettie's turn came and +she had told her errand. "What!" he exclaimed, +"seven pounds of meal and a pound +of butter, and two pounds of sugar! Well, you +tell your father that I should like to have +my bill settled; it's all drawn up, you see, +and I don't like to open a new account till +it's all square."</p> + +<p>He turned away immediately to another +customer, and Nettie felt she had got her +answer. She stood a moment, very disappointed, +and a little mortified, and somewhat +downhearted. What should they do +for supper? and what a storm there would +be when her father heard about all this and +found nothing but bread and tea on the +table. Slowly Nettie turned away, and slowly +made the few steps from the door to the +corner. She felt very blue indeed; coming +out of the warm store the chill wind made +her shiver. Just at the corner somebody +stopped her.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +"Nettie!" said the voice of the little +French baker, "what ails you? you look +not well."</p> + +<p>Nettie gave her a grateful smile, and said +she was well.</p> + +<p>"You look not like it," said Mme. Auguste; +"you look as if the wind might +carry you off before you get home. Come +to my house—I want to see you in the light."</p> + +<p>"I haven't time; I must go home to +mother, Mrs. August."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know! You will go home all the +faster for coming this way first. You have +not been to see me in these three or four +weeks."</p> + +<p>She carried Nettie along with her; it was +but a step, and Nettie did not feel capable +of resisting anything. The little Frenchwoman +put her into the shop before her, +made her sit down, and lighted a candle. +The shop was nice and warm and full of the +savoury smell of fresh baking.</p> + +<p>"We have made our own bread lately," +said Nettie, in answer to the charge of not +coming there.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +"Do you make it good?" said Mme. Auguste.</p> + +<p>"It isn't like yours, Mrs. August," said +Nettie, smiling.</p> + +<p>"If you will come and live with me next +summer, I will teach you how to do some +things; and you shall not look so blue neither. +Have you had your supper?"</p> + +<p>"No, and I am just going home to get +supper. I must go, Mrs. August."</p> + +<p>"You come in here," said the Frenchwoman; +"you are my prisoner. I am all +alone, and I want somebody for company. +You take off your cloak, Nettie, and I shall +give you something to keep the wind out. +You do what I bid you!"</p> + +<p>Nettie felt too cold and weak to make any +ado about complying, unless duty had forbade; +and she thought there was time enough +yet. She let her cloak drop, and took off +her hood. The little back room to which +Mme. Auguste had brought her was only a +trifle bigger than the bit of a shop; but it +was as cozy as it was little. A tiny stove +warmed it, and kept warm, too, a tiny iron<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +pot and tea-kettle which were steaming +away. The bed was at one end, draped +nicely with red curtains; there was a little +looking-glass, and some prints in frames round +the walls; there was Madame's little table +covered with a purple cloth, and with her +work and a small clock and various pretty +things on it. Mme. Auguste had gone to a +cupboard in the wall, and taken out a couple +of plates and little bowls, which she set on a +little round stand; and then lifting the cover +of the pot on the stove, she ladled out a +bowlful of what was in it, and gave it to +Nettie with one of her own nice crisp rolls.</p> + +<p>"Eat that!" she said. "I shan't let you +go home till you have swallowed that to +keep the cold out. It makes me all freeze +to look at you."</p> + +<p>So she filled her own bowl, and made good +play with her spoon, while between spoonfuls +she looked at Nettie; and the good little +woman smiled in her heart to see how easy +it was for Nettie to obey her. The savoury, +simple, comforting broth she had set before +her was the best thing to the child's delicate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +stomach that she had tasted for many a +day.</p> + +<p>"Is it good?" said the Frenchwoman when +Nettie's bowl was half empty.</p> + +<p>"It's so good!" said Nettie. "I didn't +know I was so hungry."</p> + +<p>"Now you will not feel the cold so," said +the Frenchwoman, "and you will go back +quicker. Do you like my <em>riz-au-gras</em>?"</p> + +<p>"<em>What</em> is it, ma'am?" said Nettie.</p> + +<p>The Frenchwoman laughed, and made +Nettie say it over till she could pronounce +the words. "Now you like it," she said; +"that is a French dish. Do you think Mrs. +Mat'ieson would like it?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure she would!" said Nettie. "But +I don't know how to make it."</p> + +<p>"You shall come here and I will teach +it to you. And now you shall carry a little +home to your mother and ask her if she will +do the honour to a French dish to approve +it. It do not cost anything. I cannot sell +much bread the winters; I live on what cost +me nothing."</p> + +<p>While saying this, Mme. Auguste had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +filled a little pail with the <em>riz-au-gras</em>, and +put a couple of her rolls along with it. "It +must have the French bread," she said; and +she gave it to Nettie, who looked quite +cheered up, and very grateful.</p> + +<p>"You are a good little girl!" she said. +"How keep you always your face looking so +happy? There is always one little streak of +sunshine here"—drawing her finger across +above Nettie's eyebrows—"and another here,"—and +her finger passed over the line of Nettie's +lips.</p> + +<p>"That's because I <em>am</em> happy, Mrs. August."</p> + +<p>"<em>Always?</em>"</p> + +<p>"Yes, always."</p> + +<p>"What makes you so happy always? you +was just the same in the cold winter out +there, as when you was eating my <em>riz-au-gras</em>. +Now me, I am cross in the cold, and +not happy."</p> + +<p>But the Frenchwoman saw a deeper light +come into Nettie's eyes as she answered, "It +is because I love the Lord Jesus, Mrs. August, +and he makes me happy."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +"<em>You?</em>" said Madame. "My child!—What +do you say, Nettie? I think not I +have heard you right."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. August, I am happy because +I love the Lord Jesus. I know he loves me, +and he will take me to be with him."</p> + +<p>"Not just yet," said the Frenchwoman, +"I hope! Well, I wish I was so happy as +you, Nettie. Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>Nettie ran home, more comforted by her +good supper, and more thankful to the goodness +of God in giving it, and happy in the +feeling of his goodness than can be told. +And very, very glad she was of that little +tin pail in her hand she knew her mother +needed. Mrs. Mathieson had time to eat +the rice broth before her husband came +in.</p> + +<p>"She said she would show me how to +make it," said Nettie, "and it don't cost anything."</p> + +<p>"Why, it's just rice and—<em>what</em> is it? I +don't see," said Mrs. Mathieson. "It isn't +rice and milk."</p> + +<p>Nettie laughed at her mother. "Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +August didn't tell. She called it reeso—— +I forget what she called it!"</p> + +<p>"It's the best thing I ever saw," said Mrs. +Mathieson. "There—put the pail away. +Your father's coming."</p> + +<p>He was in a terrible humour, as they expected; +and Nettie and her mother had a +sad evening of it. And the same sort of +thing lasted for several days. Mrs. Mathieson +hoped that perhaps Mr. Lumber would +take into his head to seek lodgings somewhere +else; or at least that Mathieson would +have been shamed into paying Jackson's +bill; but neither thing happened. Mr. +Lumber found his quarters too comfortable; +and Mr. Mathieson spent too much of his +earnings on drink to find the amount necessary +to clear off the scores at the grocer's +shop.</p> + +<p>From that time, as they could run up no +new account, the family were obliged to live +on what they could immediately pay for. +That was seldom a sufficient supply; and so, +in dread of the storms that came whenever +their wants touched Mr. Mathieson's own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +comfort, Nettie and her mother denied themselves +constantly what they very much needed. +The old can sometimes bear this better than +the young. Nettie grew more delicate, more +thin, and more feeble, every day. It troubled +her mother sadly. Mr. Mathieson could not +be made to see it. Indeed he was little at +home except when he was eating.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> +<h3>THE NEW BLANKET.</h3> + + +<p>Nettie had been in Barry's room one evening, +putting it to rights; through the busy day +it had somehow been neglected. Mrs. Mathieson's +heart was so heavy that her work +dragged; and when Nettie came out and +sat down to her Sunday-school lesson, her +mother kept watching her for a long time +with a dull, listless face, quite still and idle. +The child's face was busy over her Bible, and +Mrs. Mathieson did not disturb her, till +Nettie lifted her head to glance at the clock. +Then the bitterness of her mother's heart +broke out.</p> + +<p>"He's a ruined man!" she exclaimed, in +her despair. "He's a ruined man! he's +taking to drinking more and more. It's all +over with him—and with us."</p> + +<p>"No, mother," said Nettie, gently,—"I +hope not. There's better times coming,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +mother. God <em>never</em> forsakes those that +trust in him. He has promised to hear +prayer; and I have prayed to him, and I +feel sure he will save us."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson was weeping bitterly.</p> + +<p>"So don't you cry, mother. Trust! +'Only believe'—don't you remember Jesus +said that? Just believe him, mother. I do."</p> + +<p>And proving how true she spoke—how +steadfast and firm was the faith she professed, +with that, as Nettie got up to put +away her books, her lips burst forth into +song; and never more clear nor more sweet +than she sung then, sounded the wild sweet +notes that belong to the words—favourites +with her. There was no doubt in her voice +at all.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Great spoils I shall win, from death, hell, and sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">'Midst outward afflictions shall feel Christ within;<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">And when I'm to die, Receive me, I'll cry;<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">For Jesus hath loved me, I cannot tell why."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson sobbed at first; but there +came a great quietness over her; and as the +clear beautiful strain came to an end, she +rose up, threw her apron over her face, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +knelt quietly down by the side of her bed; +putting her face in her hands. Nettie stood +and looked at her; then turned and went up +the stair to her own praying-place; feeling in +her heart as if instead of two weary feet she +had had "wings as angels," to mount up +literally. She knew that part of her prayer +was getting its answer. She knew by the +manner of her mother, that it was in no +bitterness and despair but in the humbleness +of a bowed heart that she had knelt down; +and Nettie's slow little feet kept company +with a most bounding spirit. She went to +bed and covered herself up, not to sleep, but +because it was too cold to be in the garret +a moment uncovered; and lay there broad +awake, "making melody in her heart to the +Lord."</p> + +<p>It was very cold up in Nettie's garret now; +the winter had moved on into the latter part +of December, and the frosts were very keen; +and the winter winds seem to come in at one +end of the attic and to just sweep through to +the other, bringing all except the snow with +them. Even the snow often drifted in through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +the cracks of the rough wainscot board, or +under the shutter, and lay in little white +streaks or heaps on the floor, and never +melted. To-night there was no wind, and +Nettie had left her shutter open that she +might see the stars as she lay in bed. It did +not make much difference in the feeling of +the place, for it was about as cold inside as +out; and the stars were great friends of +Nettie. To-night she lay and watched them, +blinking down at her through her garret +window with their quiet eyes; they were +always silent witnesses to her of the beauty +and purity of heaven, and reminders too of +that eye that never sleeps and that hand that +planted and upholds all. How bright they +looked down to-night! It was very cold, +and lying awake made Nettie colder; she +shivered sometimes under all her coverings; +still she lay looking at the stars in that square +patch of sky that her shutter opening gave +her to see, and thinking of the golden city. +"They shall hunger no more, neither thirst +any more; neither shall the sun light on +them, nor any heat. For the lamb which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, +and shall lead them unto living fountains of +waters: and God shall wipe away all tears +from their eyes." "There shall be no more +curse; but the throne of God and of the +Lamb shall be in it, and his servants shall +serve him."</p> + +<p>"His servants shall serve him"—thought +Nettie; "and mother will be there,—and +father will be there, and Barry,—and I shall +be there! and then I shall be happy. And +I am happy now. 'Blessed be the Lord, +which hath not turned away my prayer, nor +his mercy from me!'"—And if that verse +went through Nettie's head once, it did fifty +times. So did this one, which the quiet +stars seemed to repeat and whisper to her, +"The Lord redeemeth the soul of his servants, +and none of them that trust in him shall be +desolate." And though now and then a +shiver passed over Nettie's shoulders, with +the cold, she was ready to sing for very +gladness and fulness of heart.</p> + +<p>But lying awake and shivering did not +do Nettie's little body any good; she looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +so very white the next day, that it caught +even Mr. Mathieson's attention. He reached +out his arm and drew Nettie toward him, as +she was passing between the cupboard and +the table. Then he looked at her, but he +did not say how she looked.</p> + +<p>"Do you know day after to-morrow is +Christmas day?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. It's the day when Christ +was born," said Nettie.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know anything about that," +said her father; "but what I mean is, that a +week after is New Year. What would you +like me to give you, Nettie,—hey?"</p> + +<p>Nettie stood still for a moment, then her +eyes lighted up.</p> + +<p>"Will you give it to me, father, if I tell +you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. If it is not extravagant, +perhaps I will."</p> + +<p>"It will not cost much," said Nettie, earnestly. +"Will you give me what I choose, +father, if it does not cost too much?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I will. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Father, you wont be displeased?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +"Not I!" said Mr. Mathieson, drawing +Nettie's little form tighter in his grasp; he +thought he had never felt it so slight and +thin before.</p> + +<p>"Father, I am going to ask you a great +thing!—to go to church with me New Year's +day."</p> + +<p>"To church!" said her father, frowning; +but he remembered his promise, and he felt +Nettie in his arms yet. "What on earth +good will that do you?"</p> + +<p>"A great deal of good. It would please +me so much, father."</p> + +<p>"What do you want me to go to church +for?" said Mr. Mathieson, not sure yet what +humour he was going to be in.</p> + +<p>"To thank God, father, that there was a +Christmas; when Jesus came, that we might +have a New Year."</p> + +<p>"What? what?" said Mr. Mathieson. +"What are you talking about?"</p> + +<p>"Because, father," said Nettie, trembling, +and seizing her chance, "since Jesus loved +us and came and died for us, we all may +have a New Year of glory. I shall, father;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +and I want you too. Oh do, father!" and +Nettie burst into tears. Mr. Mathieson held +her fast, and his face showed a succession of +changes for a minute or so. But she presently +raised her head from his shoulder, +where it had sunk, and kissed him, and +said—</p> + +<p>"May I have what I want, father?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—go along," said Mr. Mathieson. +"I should like to know how to refuse you, +though. But, Nettie, don't you want me to +give you anything else?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing else!" she told him, with her +face all shining with joy. Mr. Mathieson +looked at her and seemed very thoughtful +all supper time.</p> + +<p>"Can't you strengthen that child up a +bit?" he said to his wife afterwards. "She +does too much."</p> + +<p>"She does as little as I can help," said +Mrs. Mathieson; "but she is always at something. +I am afraid her room is too cold o' +nights. She aint fit to bear it. It's bitter +up there."</p> + +<p>"Give her another blanket or quilt, then,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +said her husband. "I should think you +would see to that. Does she say she is +cold?"</p> + +<p>"No,—never except sometimes when I see +her looking blue, and ask her."</p> + +<p>"And what does she say then?"</p> + +<p>"She says sometimes she is a little cold."</p> + +<p>"Well, do put something more over her, +and have no more of it!" said her husband, +violently. "Sit still and let the child be +cold, when another covering would make it +all right!" And he ended with swearing at +her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson did not dare to tell him +that Nettie's food was not of a sufficiently +nourishing and relishing kind; she knew +what the answer to that would be; and she +feared that a word more about Nettie's +sleeping-room would be thought an attack +upon Mr. Lumber's being in the house. So +she was silent.</p> + +<p>But there came home something for Nettie +in the course of the Christmas week, which +comforted her a little, and perhaps quieted +Mr. Mathieson too. He brought with him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +on coming home to supper one evening, a +great thick roll of a bundle, and put it in +Nettie's arms, telling her that was for her +New Year.</p> + +<p>"For me!" said Nettie, the colour starting +a little into her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for you. Open it, and see."</p> + +<p>So Nettie did, with some trouble, and +there tumbled out upon the floor a great +heavy warm blanket, new from the shop. +Mr. Mathieson thought the pink in her +cheeks was the prettiest thing he had seen +in a long while.</p> + +<p>"Is this for <em>me</em>, father?"</p> + +<p>"I mean it to be so. See if it will go on +that bed of yours and keep you warm."</p> + +<p>Nettie gave her father some very hearty +thanks, which he took in a silent, pleased +way; and then she hastened off with her +blanket upstairs. How thick and warm it +was! and how nicely it would keep her comfortable +when she knelt, all wrapped up in it, +on that cold floor. For a little while it +would; not even a warm blanket would keep +her from the cold more than a little while at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +a time up there. But Nettie tried its powers +the first thing she did.</p> + +<p>Did Mr. Mathieson mean the blanket to +take the place of his promise? Nettie +thought of that, but like a wise child she +said nothing at all till the Sunday morning +came. Then, before she set off for Sunday-school, +she came to her father's elbow.</p> + +<p>"Father, I'll be home a quarter after ten; +will you be ready then?"</p> + +<p>"Ready for what?" said Mr. Mathieson.</p> + +<p>"For my New Year's," said Nettie. "You +know you promised I should go to church +with you."</p> + +<p>"Did I? And aint you going to take the +blanket for your New Year's, and let me off, +Nettie?"</p> + +<p>"No, father, to be sure not. I'll be home +at a quarter past; please don't forget." And +Nettie went off to school very thankful and +happy, for her father's tone was not unkind. +How glad she was New Year's day had come +on Sunday.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mathieson was as good as his word. +He was ready at the time, and they walked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +to the church together. That was a great +day to Nettie. Her father and mother going +to church in company with her and with each +other. But nobody that saw her sober sweet +little face would have guessed how very full +her heart was of prayer, even as they walked +along the street among the rest of the people. +And when they got to church, it seemed as +if every word of the prayers and of the reading +and of the hymns and of the sermon, +struck on all Nettie's nerves of hearing and +feeling. Would her father understand any +of those sweet words? would he feel them? +would they reach him? Nettie little thought +that what he felt most, what <em>did</em> reach him, +though he did not thoroughly understand it, +was the look of her own face; though she +never but once dared turn it toward him. +There was a little colour in it more than +usual; her eye was deep in its earnestness; +and the grave set of her little mouth was +broken up now and then in a way that Mr. +Mathieson wanted to watch better than the +straight sides of her sun-bonnet would let him. +Once he thought he saw something more.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +He walked home very soberly, and was a +good deal on the silent order during the rest +of the day. He did not go to church in +the afternoon. But in the evening, as +her mother was busy in and out getting +supper ready, and Mr. Lumber had not +come in, Mr. Mathieson called Nettie to his +side.</p> + +<p>"What was you crying for in church this +forenoon?" he said, low.</p> + +<p>"Crying!" said Nettie, surprised. "Was +I crying?"</p> + +<p>"If it wasn't tears I saw dropping from +under your hands on to the floor, it must +have been some drops of rain that had got +there, and I don't see how they could very +well. There warn't no rain outside. What +was it for, hey?"</p> + +<p>There came a great flush all over Nettie's +face, and she did not at once speak.</p> + +<p>"Hey?—what was it for?"—repeated Mr. +Mathieson.</p> + +<p>The flush passed away. Nettie spoke very +low and with lips all of a quiver. "I remember.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +I was thinking, father, how 'all +things are ready'—and I couldn't help +wishing that you were ready too."</p> + +<p>"Ready for what?" said Mr. Mathieson, +somewhat roughly. "All things ready for +what?"</p> + +<p>"Ready for you," said Nettie. "Jesus is +ready to love you, and calls you—and the +angels are ready to rejoice for you—and I——"</p> + +<p>"Go on! What of you?"</p> + +<p>Nettie lifted her eyes to him. "I am +ready to rejoice too, father." But the time +of rejoicing was not yet. Nettie burst into +tears.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mathieson was not angry, yet he flung +away from her with a rude "Pshaw!" and +that was all the answer she got. But the +truth was, that there was something in +Nettie's look, of tenderness, and purity, and +trembling hope, that her father's heart could +not bear to meet; and what is more, that he +was never able to forget.</p> + +<p>Nettie went about her evening business +helping her mother, and keeping back the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +tears which were very near again; and Mr. +Mathieson began to talk with Mr. Lumber, +and everything was to all appearance just as +it had been hitherto. And so it went on +after that.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> +<h3>THE HOUSE-RAISING.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h3> + + +<p>It grew colder and colder in Nettie's garret—or +else she grew thinner and felt it more. +She certainly thought it was colder. The +snow came, and piled a thick covering on the +roof and stopped up some of the chinks in the +clapboarding with its white caulking; and +that made the place a little better; then the +winds from off the snow-covered country were +keen and bitter.</p> + +<p>Nettie's whole day was so busy that she +had little time to think, except when she +went upstairs at night; covered up there +under her blankets and quilts, and looking +up at the stars, she used to feel sadly that +things were in a very bad way. Her father +was out constantly o' nights, and they knew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +too surely where he spent them. He was +not a confirmed drunkard yet; but how long +would it take, at this rate? And that man +Lumber leading him on, with a thicker head +himself, and Barry following after! No +seeming thought nor care for his wife and +daughter and their comfort; it was with +great difficulty they could get from him +enough money for their daily needs; and to +make that do, Nettie and her mother pinched +and starved themselves. Often and often +Nettie went to bed with an empty stomach, +because she was not hearty enough to eat +porridge or pork, and the men had not left +enough of other viands for herself and her +mother. And neither of them would pretend +to want that little there was, for fear the +other wanted it more.</p> + +<p>Her mother was patient and quiet now; +not despairing, as a few months ago; and +that was such joy to Nettie that she felt often +much more like giving thanks than complaining. +Yet she saw her mother toiling and +insufficiently cared for, and she went to bed +feeling very poor and thin herself; then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +Nettie used to look at the stars and remember +the Lord's promises and the golden +city, till at last she would go to sleep upon +her pillow feeling the very richest little child +in all the country. "They shall not be +ashamed that wait for me"—was one word +which was very often the last in her thoughts. +Nettie had no comfort from her father in all +the time between New Year and spring. +Except one word.</p> + +<p>One morning she went to Barry secretly in +his room, and asked him to bring the pail of +water from the spring for her. Barry had no +mind to the job.</p> + +<p>"Why can't mother do it?" he said, "if +you can't?"</p> + +<p>"Mother is busy and hasn't a minute. I +always do it for her."</p> + +<p>"Well, why can't you go on doing it? +you're accustomed to it, you see, and I don't +like going out so early," said Barry, stretching +himself.</p> + +<p>"I would, and I wouldn't ask you; only, +Barry, somehow I don't think I'm quite +strong lately and I can hardly bring the pail,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +it's so heavy to me. I have to stop and rest +ever so many times before I can get to the +house with it."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you stop and rest, I suppose it +wont hurt you," said Barry. "<em>I</em> should want +to stop and rest, too, myself."</p> + +<p>His little sister was turning away, giving +it up; when she was met by her father who +stepped in from the entry. He looked red +with anger.</p> + +<p>"You take the pail and go get the water!" +said he to his son; "and you hear me! don't +you let Nettie bring in another pailful when +you're at home, or I'll turn you out of the +house. You lazy scoundrel! You don't deserve +the bread you eat. Would you let her +work for you, when you are as strong as +sixty?"</p> + +<p>Barry's grumbled words in answer were so +very unsatisfactory, that Mr. Mathieson in a +rage advanced toward him with uplifted fist; +but Nettie sprang in between and very nearly +caught the blow that was meant for her +brother.</p> + +<p>"Please, father, don't!" she cried; "please,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +father, don't be angry. Barry didn't think—he +didn't"—</p> + +<p>"Why didn't he?" said Mr. Mathieson. +"Great lazy rascal! He wants to be flogged."</p> + +<p>"Oh don't!" said Nettie,—"he didn't +know why I asked him, or he wouldn't have +refused me."</p> + +<p>"Why did you, then?"</p> + +<p>"Because it made my back ache so to +bring it, I couldn't help asking him."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever ask him before?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind, please, father!" said Nettie, +sweetly. "Just don't think about me, and don't +be angry with Barry. It's no matter now."</p> + +<p>"Who does think about you? Your +mother don't, or she would have seen to this +before."</p> + +<p>"Mother didn't know my back ached. +Father, you know she hasn't a minute, she +is so busy getting breakfast in time; and +she didn't know I wasn't strong enough. +Father, don't tell her, please, I asked Barry. +It would worry her so. Please don't, father."</p> + +<p>"<em>You</em> think of folks, anyhow. You're a +regular peacemaker!" exclaimed Mr. Mathieson<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +as he turned away and left her. Nettie +stood still, the flush paling on her cheek, her +hand pressed to her side.</p> + +<p>"Am I that?" she thought. "Shall I be +that? Oh Lord, my Saviour, my dear +Redeemer, send thy peace here!"—She was +still in the same place and position when +Barry came in again.</p> + +<p>"It's wretched work!" he exclaimed, +under his breath, for his father was in the +next room. "It's as slippery as the plague, +going down that path to the water—it's no +use to have legs, for you can't hold up. I'm +all froze stiff with the water I've spilled +on me!"</p> + +<p>"I know it's very slippery," said Nettie.</p> + +<p>"And then you can't get at the water +when you're there, without stepping into it—it's +filled chuck full of snow and ice all over +the edge. It's the most wretched work!"</p> + +<p>"I know it, Barry," said Nettie. "I am +sorry you have to do it."</p> + +<p>"What did you make me do it for, then?" +said he, angrily. "You got it your own way +this time, but never mind,—I'll be up with +you for it."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +"Barry," said his sister, "please do it just +a little while for me, till I get stronger, and +don't mind; and as soon as ever I can I'll +do it again. But you don't know how it +made me ache all through, bringing the pail +up that path."</p> + +<p>"Stuff!" said Barry. And from that time, +though he did not fail to bring the water in +the morning, yet Nettie saw he owed her a +grudge for it all the day afterward. He +was almost always away with his father, and +she had little chance to win him to better +feeling.</p> + +<p>So the winter slowly passed and the spring +came. Spring months came, at least; and +now and then to be sure a sweet spring day, +when all nature softened; the sun shone +mildly, the birds sang, the air smelled sweet +with the opening buds. Those days were +lovely, and Nettie enjoyed them no one can +tell how much. On her walk to school, it +was so pleasant to be able to step slowly and +not hasten to be out of the cold; and Nettie's +feet did not feel ready for quick work now-a-days. +It was so pleasant to hear the +sparrows and other small birds, and to see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +them, with their cheery voices and sonsy +little heads, busy and happy. And the soft +air was very reviving too.</p> + +<p>Then at home the work was easier, a great +deal; and in Nettie's garret the change was +wonderful. There came hours when she +could sit on the great chest under her window +and look out, or kneel there and pray, without +danger of catching her death of cold; and +instead of that, the balmy perfumed spring +breeze coming into her window, and the +trees budding, and the grass on the fields +and hills beginning to look green, and the +sunlight soft and vapoury. Such an hour—or +quarter of an hour—to Nettie was worth +a great deal. Her weary little frame seemed +to rest in it, and her mind rested too. For +those days were full not only of the goodness +of God, but of the promise of his goodness. +Nettie read it, and thanked him. Yet things +in the household were no better.</p> + +<p>One evening Nettie and her mother were +sitting alone together. They were usually +alone in the evenings, though not usually +sitting down quietly with no work on hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +Nettie had her Sunday-school lesson, and +was busy with that, on one side of the fire. +Mrs. Mathieson on the other side sat and +watched her. After a while Nettie looked +up and saw her mother's gaze, no longer on +her, fixed mournfully on the fire and looking +through that at something else. Nettie read +the look, and answered it after her own +fashion. She closed her book and sang, to a +very, very sweet, plaintive air,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I heard the voice of Jesus say,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come unto me and rest:<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">Lay down, thou weary one, lay down<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy head upon my breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">I came to Jesus as I was,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weary, and worn, and sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">I found in him a resting-place,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he has made me glad.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I heard the voice of Jesus say,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am this dark world's light;<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">Look unto me—thy morn shall rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all thy day be bright.<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">I looked to Jesus, and I found<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In him my star, my sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i1a">And in that light of life I'll walk<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till travelling days are done."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She sang two verses, clear, glad, and sweet,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +as Nettie always sang; then she paused and +looked at her mother.</p> + +<p>"Do you keep up hope yet, Nettie?" +said Mrs. Mathieson, sadly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother," Nettie said, quietly.</p> + +<p>"Mine gets beat out sometimes," said Mrs. +Mathieson, drooping her head for an instant +on her hands. "Your father's out every +night now; and you know where he goes; +and he cares less and less about anything +else in the world but Jackson's store, and +what he gets there, and the company he finds +there. And he don't want much of being a +ruined man."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother. But the Bible says we +must wait on the Lord."</p> + +<p>"Wait! yes, and I've waited; and I see +you growing as thin as a shadow and +as weak as a mouse; and your father +don't see it; and he's let you sleep in that +cold place up there all winter just to accommodate +that Lumber!—I am sure he is well +named."</p> + +<p>"O mother, my garret is nice now,—on +the warm days. You can't think how pretty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +it is out of my window—prettier than any +window in the house."</p> + +<p>"Outside, I dare say. It isn't a place +fit for a cat to sleep on!"</p> + +<p>"Mother, it's a good place to me. I don't +want a better place. I don't think anybody +else has a place that seems so good to me; +for mother, Jesus is always there."</p> + +<p>"I expect there'll be nothing else but +heaven good enough for you after it!" said +Mrs. Mathieson, with a sort of half sob. "I +see you wasting away before my very eyes."</p> + +<p>"Mother," said Nettie, cheerfully, "how +can you talk so? I feel well—except now +and then."</p> + +<p>"If your father could only be made to see +it!—but he can't see anything, nor hear +anything. There's that house-raising to-morrow, +Nettie—it's been on my mind this +fortnight past, and it kills me."</p> + +<p>"Why, mother?"</p> + +<p>"I know how it will be," said Mrs. Mathieson; +"they'll have a grand set-to after they +get it up; and your father'll be in the first of +it; and I somehow feel as if it would be the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +finishing of him. I wish almost he'd get +sick—or anything, to keep him away. They +make such a time after a house-raising."</p> + +<p>"O mother, don't wish that," said Nettie; +but she began to think how it would be +possible to withdraw her father from the +frolic with which the day's business would be +ended. Mr. Mathieson was a carpenter, and +a fine workman; and always had plenty of +work and was much looked up to among his +fellows.</p> + +<p>Nettie began to think whether <em>she</em> could +make any effort to keep her father from the +dangers into which he was so fond of plunging; +hitherto she had done nothing but pray +for him; could she do anything more, with +any chance of good coming of it? She thought +and thought; and resolved that she must try. +It did not look hopeful; there was little she +could urge to lure Mr. Mathieson from his +drinking companions; nothing, except her +own timid affection, and the one other thing +it was possible to offer him,—a good supper. +How to get that was not so easy; but she +consulted with her mother.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +Mrs. Mathieson said she used in her younger +days to know how to make waffles,<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> and Mr. +Mathieson used to think they were the best +things that ever were made; now if Mrs. +Moss, a neighbour, would lend her waffle-iron, +and she could get a few eggs,—she +believed she could manage it still. "But we +haven't the eggs, child," she said; "and I +don't believe any power under heaven can +get him to come away from that raising +frolic."</p> + +<p>Nor did Nettie. It was to no power +<em>under</em> heaven that she trusted. But she +must use her means. She easily got the +iron from Mrs. Moss. Then she borrowed +the eggs from Mme. Auguste, who in Lent +time always had them; then she watched +with grave eyes and many a heart prayer +the while, the mixing and making of the +waffles.</p> + +<p>"How do you manage the iron, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Why it is made hot," said Mrs. Mathieson, +"very hot, and buttered; and then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +when the batter is light you pour it in, and +clap it together, and put it in the stove."</p> + +<p>"But how can you pour it in, mother? I +don't see how you can fill the iron."</p> + +<p>"Why, you can't, child; you fill one half, +and shut it together: and when it bakes +it rises up and fills the other half. You'll +see."</p> + +<p>The first thing Nettie asked when she +came home from school in the afternoon +was, if the waffles were light? She never +saw any look better, Mrs. Mathieson said; +"but I forgot, child, we ought to have cinnamon +and white sugar to eat on them;—it +was so that your father used to admire +them; they wont be waffles without sugar +and cinnamon, I'm afraid he'll think;—but +I don't believe you'll get him home to think +anything about them."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson ended with a sigh. Nettie +said nothing; she went round the room, +putting it in particularly nice order; then +set the table. When all that was right, she +went up to her garret, and knelt down and +prayed that God would take care of her and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +bless her errand. She put the whole matter +in the Lord's hands; then she dressed herself +in her hood and cloak and went down to her +mother. Mr. Mathieson had not come home +to dinner, being busy with the house-raising; +so they had had no opportunity to invite +him, and Nettie was now on her way to +do it.</p> + +<p>"It's turned a bad afternoon; I'm afraid +it aint fit for you to go, Nettie."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind," said Nettie. "May be I'll +get some sugar and cinnamon, mother, before +I come back."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know where the raising is? +it's out on the Shallonway road, on beyond +Mrs. August's, a good bit."</p> + +<p>Nettie nodded, and went out; and as the +door closed on her grave, sweet little face, +Mrs. Mathieson felt a great strain on her +heart. She would have been glad to relieve +herself by tears, but it was a dry pain that +would not be relieved so. She went to the +window, and looked out at the weather.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> +<h3>THE WAFFLES.</h3> + + +<p>The early part of the day had been brilliant +and beautiful; then, March-like, it had +changed about, gathered up a whole sky-full +of clouds, and turned at last to snowing. +The large feathery flakes were falling now, +fast; melting as fast as they fell; making +everything wet and chill, in the air and under +the foot. Nettie had no overshoes; she was +accustomed to get her feet wet very often, so +that was nothing new. She hugged herself +in her brown cloak, on which the beautiful +snowflakes rested white a moment and then +melted away, gradually wetting the covering +of her arms and shoulders in a way that +would reach through by and by. Nettie +thought little of it. What was she thinking +of? She was comforting herself with the +thought of that strong and blessed Friend +who has promised to be always with his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +servants; and remembering his promise—"they +shall not be ashamed that wait for +me." What did the snow and the wet matter +to Nettie? Yet she looked too much like a +snow-flake herself when she reached Mr. +Jackson's store and went in. The white +frosting had lodged all round her old black +silk hood and even edged the shoulders of +her brown cloak; and the white little face +within looked just as pure.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jackson looked at her with more than +usual attention; and when Nettie asked him +if he would let her have a shilling's worth of +fine white sugar and cinnamon, and trust her +till the next week for the money, he made +not the slightest difficulty; but measured or +weighed it out for her directly, and even said +he would trust her for more than that. So +Nettie thanked him, and went on to the less +easy part of her errand. Her heart began +to beat a little bit now.</p> + +<p>The feathery snowflakes fell thicker and +made everything wetter than ever; it was +very raw and chill, and few people were +abroad. Nettie went on, past the little bakewoman's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +house, and past all the thickly built +part of the village. Then came houses more +scattered; large handsome houses with beautiful +gardens and grounds and handsome +garden palings along the roadside. Past one +or two of these, and then there was a space +of wild ground; and here Mr. Jackson was +putting up a new house for himself, and +meant to have a fine place. The wild bushes +grew in a thick hedge along by the fence, +but over the tops of them Nettie could see +the new timbers of the frame that the carpenters +had been raising that day. She went +on till she came to an opening in the hedge +and fence as well, and then the new building +was close before her. The men were at work +yet, finishing their day's business; the sound +of hammering rung sharp on all sides of the +frame; some were up on ladders, some were +below. Nettie walked slowly up and then +round the place, searching for her father. At +last she found him. He and Barry, who was +learning his father's trade, were on the ground +at one side of the frame, busy as bees. +Talking was going on roundly too, as well as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +hammering, and Nettie drew near and stood +a few minutes without any one noticing her. +She was not in a hurry to interrupt the work +nor to tell her errand; she waited.</p> + +<p>Barry saw her first, but ungraciously would +not speak to her nor for her. If she was +there for anything, he said to himself, it was +for some spoil-sport; and one pail of water +a day was enough for him. Mr. Mathieson +was looking the other way.</p> + +<p>"I say, Mathieson," called one of the men +from the inside of the frame, "I s'pose 'taint +worth carrying any of this stuff—Jackson'll +have enough without it?" The words were +explained to Nettie's horror by a jug in the +man's hands, which he lifted to his lips.</p> + +<p>"Jackson will do something handsome in +that way to-night," said Nettie's father; "or +he'll not do as he's done by, such a confounded +wet evening. But I've stood to my word, +and I expect he'll stand to his'n."</p> + +<p>"He gave his word there was to be oysters, +warn't it?" called another man from the top +of the ladder.</p> + +<p>"Punch and oysters," said Mathieson, hammering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +away, "or I've raised the last frame +I ever <em>will</em> raise, for him. I expect he'll +stand it."</p> + +<p>"Oysters aint much count," said another +speaker. "I'd rather have a slice of good +sweet pork any day."</p> + +<p>"Father," said Nettie. She had come +close up to him, but she trembled. What +possible chance could she have?</p> + +<p>"Hollo!" said Mr. Mathieson, turning suddenly. +"Nettie!—what's to pay, girl?"</p> + +<p>He spoke roughly, and Nettie saw that his +face was red. She trembled all over, but she +spoke as bravely as she could.</p> + +<p>"Father, I am come to invite you home to +supper to-night. Mother and I have a particular +reason to want to see you. Will you +come?"</p> + +<p>"Come where?" said Mr. Mathieson, but +half understanding her.</p> + +<p>"Come home to tea, father. I came to +ask you. Mother has made something you +like."</p> + +<p>"I'm busy, child. Go home. I'm going +to supper at Jackson's. Go home." He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +turned to his hammering again. But Nettie +stood still in the snow and waited.</p> + +<p>"Father—" she said, after a minute, +coming yet closer and speaking more low.</p> + +<p>"What? Aint you gone?" exclaimed Mr. +Mathieson.</p> + +<p>"Father," said Nettie, softly, "mother has +made waffles for you,—and you used to +like them so much, she says; and they are +light and beautiful and just ready to bake. +Wont you come and have them with us? +Mother says they'll be very nice."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't she make 'em another time," +grumbled Barry,—"when we weren't going +to punch and oysters? That's a better +game!"</p> + +<p>If Mathieson had not been drinking he +might have been touched by the sight of +Nettie; so very white and delicate her little +face looked, trembling and eager, within that +border of her black hood on which the snow +crystals lay, a very doubtful and unwholesome +embroidery. She looked as if she was +going to melt and disappear like one of them; +and perhaps Mr. Mathieson did feel the effect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +of her presence, but he felt it only to be vexed +and irritated; and Barry's suggestion fell into +ready ground.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, go home!" he said, roughly. +"What are you doing here? I tell you I'm +<em>not</em> coming home—I'm engaged to supper to-night, +and I'm not going to miss it for any +fool's nonsense. Go home!"</p> + +<p>Nettie's lip trembled, but that was all the +outward show of the agitation within. She +would not have delayed to obey, if her father +had been quite himself; in his present condition +she thought perhaps the next word +might undo the last; she could not go +without another trial. She waited an instant +and again said softly and pleadingly, +"Father, I've been and got cinnamon and +sugar for you,—all ready."</p> + +<p>"Cinnamon and sugar"—he cursed with a +great oath; and turning gave Nettie a violent +push from him, that was half a blow. "Go +home!" he repeated—"go home! and mind +your business; and don't take it upon you to +mind mine."</p> + +<p>Nettie reeled, staggered, and coming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +blindly against one or two timbers that lay +on the ground, she fell heavily over them. +Nobody saw her. Mr. Mathieson had not +looked after giving her the push, and Barry +had gone over to help somebody who called +him. Nettie felt dizzy and sick; but she +picked herself up, and wet and downhearted +took the road home again. She was sadly +downhearted. Her little bit of a castle in the +air had tumbled all to pieces; and what was +more, it had broken down upon her. A hope, +faint indeed, but a hope, had kept her up +through all her exertions that day; she felt +very feeble, now the hope was gone; and +that her father should have laid a rough hand +on her, hurt her sorely. It hurt her bitterly; +he had never done so before; and the cause +why he came to do it now, rather made it +more sorrowful than less so to Nettie's mind.</p> + +<p>She could not help a few salt tears from +falling; and for a moment Nettie's faith +trembled. Feeling weak, and broken, and +miserable, the thought came coldly across her +mind, <em>would</em> the Lord not hear her, after all? +It was but a moment of faith-trembling, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +it made her sick. There was more to do +that; the push and fall over the timbers had +jarred her more than she knew at the moment. +Nettie walked slowly back upon her +road till she neared the shop of Mme. +Auguste; then she felt herself growing very +ill, and just reached the Frenchwoman's door +to faint away on her steps.</p> + +<p>She did not remain there two seconds. +Mme. Auguste had seen her go by an hour +before, and now sat at her window looking +out to amuse herself, but with a special +intent to see and waylay that pale child on +her repassing the house. She saw the little +black hood reappear, and started to open the +door, just in time to see Nettie fall down at +her threshold. As instantly two willing arms +were put under her, and lifted up the child +and bore her into the house. Then Madame +took off her hood, touched her lips with +brandy and her brow with cologne water, and +chafed her hands. She had lain Nettie on +the floor of the inner room and put a pillow +under her head; the strength which had +brought her so far having failed there, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +proved unequal to lift her again and put her +on the bed. Nettie presently came to, opened +her eyes, and looked at her nurse.</p> + +<p>"Why, my Nettie," said the little woman, +"what is this, my child? what is the matter +with you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Nettie, scarce over +her breath.</p> + +<p>"Do you feel better now, <em>mon enfant</em>?"</p> + +<p>Nettie did not, and did not speak. Mme. +Auguste mixed a spoonful of brandy and +water and made her take it. That revived +her a little.</p> + +<p>"I must get up and go home," were the +first words she said.</p> + +<p>"You will lie still there, till I get some +person to lift you on the bed," said the +Frenchwoman, decidedly. "I have not more +strength than a fly. What ails you, Nettie?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Take one spoonful more. What did you +have for dinner to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. But I must go home!" +said Nettie, trying to raise herself. "Mother +will want me—she'll want me."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +"You will lie still, like a good child," said +her friend, gently putting her back on her +pillow;—"and I will find some person to +carry you home—or some person what will +bring your mother here. I will go see if I +can find some one now. You lie still, +Nettie."</p> + +<p>Nettie lay still, feeling weak after that exertion +of trying to raise herself. She was +quite restored now, and her first thoughts +were of grief, that she had for a moment, and +under any discouragement, failed to trust fully +the Lord's promises. She trusted them now. +Let her father do what he would, let things +look as dark as they might, Nettie felt sure +that "the rewarder of them that diligently +seek him" had a blessing in store for her. +Bible words, sweet and long loved and rested +on, came to her mind, and Nettie rested on +them with perfect rest. "For he hath not +despised nor abhorred the affliction of the +afflicted; neither hath he hid his face from +him; but when he cried unto him, <em>he heard</em>." +"Our heart shall rejoice in him, <em>because we +have trusted in his holy name</em>." Prayer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +for forgiveness, and a thanksgiving of great +peace, filled Nettie's heart all the while the +Frenchwoman was gone.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Mme. Auguste had been looking +into the street, and seeing nobody out in +the wet snow, she rushed back to Nettie. +Nettie was like herself now, only very pale.</p> + +<p>"I must have cut my lip somehow," she +said; "there's blood on my handkerchief. +How did I come in here?"</p> + +<p>"Blood!" said the Frenchwoman,—"where +did you cut yourself, Nettie? Let me +look!"</p> + +<p>Which she did, with a face so anxious and +eager that Nettie smiled at her. Her own +brow was as quiet and placid as ever it was.</p> + +<p>"How did I get in here, Mrs. August?"</p> + +<p>The Frenchwoman, however, did not answer +her. Instead of which she went to her cupboard +and got a cup and spoon, and then +from a little saucepan on the stove dipped +out some riz-au-gras again.</p> + +<p>"What did you have for dinner, Nettie? +you did not tell me."</p> + +<p>"Not much—I wasn't hungry," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +Nettie. "O, I must get up and go home to +mother."</p> + +<p>"You shall eat something first," said her +friend; and she raised Nettie's head upon +another pillow, and began to feed her with +the spoon. "It is good for you. You must +take it. Where is your father? Don't talk, +but tell me. I will do everything right."</p> + +<p>"He is at work on Mr. Jackson's new +house."</p> + +<p>"Is he there to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Mme. Auguste gave her all the "broth" +in the cup, then bade her keep still, and +went to the shop window. It was time for +the men to be quitting work, she knew; she +watched for the carpenters to come. If they +were not gone by already!—how should she +know? Even as she thought this, a sound +of rude steps and men's voices came from +down the road; and the Frenchwoman +went to her door and opened it. The +men came along, a scattered group of four or +five.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Mat'ieson there?" she said. Mme.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +Auguste hardly knew him by sight. "Men, +I say! is Mr. Mat'ieson there?"</p> + +<p>"George, that's you; you're wanted," said +one of the group, looking back; and a fine-looking, +tall man paused at Madame's +threshold.</p> + +<p>"Are you Mr. Mat'ieson?" said the Frenchwoman.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am. That's my name."</p> + +<p>"Will you come in? I have something +to speak to you. Your little daughter +Nettie is very sick."</p> + +<p>"Sick!" exclaimed the man. "Nettie!—Where +is she?"</p> + +<p>"She is here. Hush! you must not say +nothing to her, but she is very sick. She is +come fainting at my door, and I have got +her in here; but she wants to go home, and +I think you had better tell her she will not +go home, but she will stay here with me to-night."</p> + +<p>"Where is she?" said Mr. Mathieson; and +he stepped in with so little ceremony that +the mistress of the house gave way before +him. He looked round the shop.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +"She is not here—you shall see her—but +you must not tell her she is sick," said the +Frenchwoman, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Where is she?" repeated Mr. Mathieson, +with a tone and look which made Mme. +Auguste afraid he would burst the doors if +she did not open them. She opened the +inner door without further preparation, and +Mr. Mathieson walked in. By the fading +light he saw Nettie lying on the floor at his +feet. He was thoroughly himself now; sobered +in more ways than one. He stood +still when he had got there, and spoke not a +word.</p> + +<p>"Father," said Nettie, softly.</p> + +<p>He stooped down over her. "What do +you want, Nettie?"</p> + +<p>"Can't I go home?"</p> + +<p>"She must better not go home to-night!" +began Mme. Auguste, earnestly. "It is so +wet and cold! She will stay here with me +to-night, Mr. Mat'ieson. You will tell her +that it is best."</p> + +<p>But Nettie said, "<em>Please</em> let me go home! +mother will be so troubled." She spoke little,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +for she felt weak; but her father saw her +very eager in the request. He stooped and +put his strong arms under her, and lifted her +up.</p> + +<p>"Have you got anything you can put over +her?" he said, looking round the room. "I'll +fetch it back."</p> + +<p>Seeing that the matter was quite taken +out of her hands, the kind little Frenchwoman +was very quick in her arrangements. +She put on Nettie's head a warm hood of +her own; then round her and over her +she wrapped a thick woollen counterpane, +that to be sure would have let no snow +through if the distance to be travelled had +been twice as far. As she folded and arranged +the thick stuff round Nettie's head, so as to +shield even her face from the outer air, she +said, half whispering—</p> + +<p>"I would not tell nothing to mother about +your lip; it is not much. I wish I could +keep you. Now she is ready, Mr. Mat'ieson."</p> + +<p>And Mr. Mathieson stalked out of the +house, and strode along the road with firm, +swift steps, till, past Jackson's, and past the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +turning, he came to his own door, and carried +Nettie upstairs. He never said a word the +whole way. Nettie was too muffled up, and +too feeble to speak; so the first word was +when he had come in and sat down in a +chair, which he did with Nettie still in his +arms. Mrs. Mathieson, standing white and +silent, waited to see what was the matter; +she had no power to ask a question. Her +husband unfolded the counterpane that was +wrapped round Nettie's head; and there she +was, looking very like her usual self, only +exceedingly pale. As soon as she caught +sight of her mother's face, Nettie would have +risen and stood up, but her father's arms +held her fast. "What do you want, Nettie?" +he asked. It was the first word.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, father," said Nettie, "only lay +me on the bed, please; and then you and +mother have supper."</p> + +<p>Mr. Mathieson took her to the bed and +laid her gently down, removing the snow-wet +counterpane which was round her.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" faltered Mrs. +Mathieson.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +"Nothing much, mother," said Nettie, +quietly; "only I was a little sick. Wont +you bake the waffles and have supper?"</p> + +<p>"What will <em>you</em> have?" said her father.</p> + +<p>"Nothing—I've had something. I feel +nicely now," said Nettie. "Mother, wont +you have supper, and let me see you?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson's strength had well-nigh +deserted her; but Nettie's desire was urgent, +and seeing that her husband had seated himself +by the bedside, and seemed to have no +idea of being anywhere but at home that +evening, she at length gathered up her faculties +to do what was the best thing to be +done, and went about preparing the supper. +Nettie's eyes watched her, and Mr. Mathieson +when he thought himself safe watched <em>her</em>. +He did not look like the same man, so +changed and sobered was the expression of +his face. Mrs. Mathieson was devoured by +fear, even in observing this; but Nettie was +exceedingly happy. She did not feel anything +but weakness: and she lay on her +pillow watching the waffles baked and +sugared, and then watching them eaten,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +wondering and rejoicing within herself at the +way in which her father had been brought to +eat his supper there at home after all. She +was the only one that enjoyed anything, +though her father and mother ate to please +her. Mrs. Mathieson had asked an account +of Nettie's illness, and got a very unsatisfactory +one. She had been faint, her husband +said; he had found her at Mrs. +August's and brought her home; that was +about all. After supper he came and sat by +Nettie again; and said she was to sleep +there, and he would go up and take Nettie's +place in the attic. Nettie in vain said she +was well enough to go upstairs; her father +cut the question short, and bade Mrs. +Mathieson go up and get anything Nettie +wanted. When she had left the room, he +stooped his head down to Nettie and said +low—</p> + +<p>"What was that about your lip?"</p> + +<p>Nettie started; she thought he would +fancy it had been done, if done at all, when +he gave her the push at the frame-house. +But she did not, dare not, answer. She said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +it was only that she had found a little blood +on her handkerchief, and supposed she might +have cut her lip when she fell on Mrs. August's +threshold, when she had fainted.</p> + +<p>"Show me your handkerchief," said her +father. Nettie obeyed. He looked at it, +and looked close at her lips, to find where +they might have been wounded; and Nettie +was sorry to see how much he felt, for he +even looked pale himself as he turned away +from her. But he was as gentle and kind as +he could be; Nettie had never seen him so; +and when he went off up to bed and Nettie +was drawn into her mother's arms to go to +sleep, she was very, very happy. But she did +not tell her hopes or her joys to her mother; +she only told her thanks to the Lord; and +that she did till she fell asleep.</p> + +<p>The next morning Nettie was well enough +to get up and dress herself. That was all +she was suffered to do by father or mother. +Mr. Mathieson sent Barry for water and +wood, and himself looked after the fire while +Mrs. Mathieson was busy; all the rest he did +was to take Nettie in his arms and sit holding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +her till breakfast was ready. He did not +talk, and he kept Barry quiet; he was like a +different man. Nettie, feeling indeed very +weak, could only sit with her head on her +father's shoulder, and wonder, and think, and +repeat quiet prayers in her heart. She was +very pale yet, and it distressed Mr. Mathieson +to see that she could not eat. So he laid +her on the bed, when he was going to his +work, and told her she was to stay there and +be still, and he would bring her something +good when he came home.</p> + +<p>The day was strangely long and quiet to +Nettie. Instead of going to school and flying +about at home doing all sorts of things, she +lay on the bed and followed her mother with +her eyes as she moved about the room at her +work. The eyes often met Mrs. Mathieson's +eyes; and once Nettie called her mother to +her bedside.</p> + +<p>"Mother, what is the matter with you?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson stood still, and had some +trouble to speak. At last she told Nettie +she was sorry to see her lying there and not +able to be up and around.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +"Mother," said Nettie, expressively,—"'There +is rest for the weary.'"</p> + +<p>"O Nettie," said her mother, beginning to +cry,—"you are all I have got!—my blessed +one!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, mother," said Nettie; "<em>I</em> am not +your blessed one,—you forget; and I am not +all you have got. Where is Jesus, mother? +O mother, 'rest in the Lord!'"</p> + +<p>"I don't deserve to," said Mrs. Mathieson, +trying to stop her tears.</p> + +<p>"I feel very well," Nettie went on; "only +weak, but I shall be well directly. And I +am so happy, mother. Wont you go on and +get dinner? and mother, just do that;—'rest +in the Lord.'"</p> + +<p>Nettie was not able to talk much, and +Mrs. Mathieson checked herself and went on +with her work, as she begged. When her +father came home at night he was as good +as his word, and brought home some fresh +oysters, that he thought would tempt Nettie's +appetite; but it was much more to her that +he stayed quietly at home and never made a +move toward going out. Eating was not in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +Nettie's line just now; the little kind Frenchwoman +had been to see her in the course of +the day and brought some delicious rolls and +a jug of <em>riz-au-gras</em>, which was what seemed +to suit Nettie's appetite best of all.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> +<h3>THE GOLDEN CITY.</h3> + + +<p>Several days went on; she did not feel +sick, and she was a little stronger; but appetite +and colour were wanting. Her father +would not let her do anything; he would +not let her go up to her garret to sleep, +though Nettie pleaded for it, fearing he must +be uncomfortable. He said it was fitter for +him than for her, though he made faces +about it. He always came home and stayed +at home now, and especially attended to +Nettie; his wages came home too, and he +brought every day something to try to tempt +her to eat; and he was quiet and grave and +kind—not the same person.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson in the midst of all her +distress about Nettie began to draw some +free breaths. But her husband thought only +of his child; unless, perhaps, of himself; and +drew none. Regularly after supper he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +would draw Nettie to his arms and sit with +her head on his shoulder; silent generally, +only he would sometimes ask her what +she would like. The first time he put this +inquiry when Mr. Lumber was out of the +way, Nettie answered by asking him to read +to her. Mr. Mathieson hesitated a little, not +unkindly, and then read; a chapter in the +Bible, of course, for Nettie wished to hear +nothing else. And after that he often read +to her; for Mr. Lumber kept up his old +habits and preferred livelier company, and so +was always out in the evenings.</p> + +<p>So several days passed; and when Saturday +came, Mr. Mathieson lost half a day's work +and took a long walk to a farm where the +people kept pigeons; and brought home one +for Nettie's supper. However, she could +fancy but very little of it.</p> + +<p>"What shall I do for you?" said her +father. "You go round like a shadow, and +you don't eat much more. What shall I do +that you would like?"</p> + +<p>This time there was nobody in the room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +Nettie lifted her head from his shoulder and +met his eyes.</p> + +<p>"If you would come to Jesus, father!"</p> + +<p>"What?" said Mr. Mathieson.—"I don't +know anything about that, Nettie. I aint +fit."</p> + +<p>"Jesus will take you anyhow, father, if +you will come."</p> + +<p>"We'll talk about that some other time," +said Mr. Mathieson,—"when you get well."</p> + +<p>"But suppose I don't get well, father?"</p> + +<p>"Eh?——" said Mr. Mathieson, startled.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I shan't get well," said Nettie, +her quiet, grave face not changing in the +least; "then I shall go to the golden city; +and father, I shall be looking for you till you +come."</p> + +<p>Mr. Mathieson did not know how to +answer her; he only groaned.</p> + +<p>"Father, will you come?" Nettie repeated, +a little faint streak of colour in her cheeks +showing the earnestness of the feeling at +work. But her words had a mingled accent +of tenderness and hope which was irresistible.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +"Yes, Nettie—if you will show me how," +her father answered, in a lowered voice. +And Nettie's eye gave one bright flash of +joy. It was as if all her strength had gone +out at that flash, and she was obliged to lean +back on her father's shoulder and wait; joy +seemed to have taken away her breath. He +waited too, without knowing why she did.</p> + +<p>"Father, the only thing to do is to come +to Jesus."</p> + +<p>"What does that mean, Nettie? You +know I don't know."</p> + +<p>"It means, father, that Jesus is holding +out his hand with a promise to you. Now +if you will take the promise,—that is all."</p> + +<p>"What is the promise, Nettie?"</p> + +<p>Nettie waited, gathered breath, for the +talk made her heart beat; and then said, +"'This is the promise that he hath promised +us, even eternal life.'"</p> + +<p>"How can a sinful man take such a promise?" +said Mr. Mathieson, with suppressed +feeling. "That is for people like you, Nettie, +not me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jesus has bought it!" cried Nettie;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +"it's free. It's without price. You may +have it if you'll believe in him and love him, +father. I can't talk."</p> + +<p>She had talked too much, or the excitement +had been too strong for her. Her +words were broken off by coughing, and she +remarked that her lip must have bled again. +Her father laid her on the bed, and from +that time for a number of days she was kept +as quiet as possible; for her strength had +failed anew and yet more than at first.</p> + +<p>For two weeks she hardly moved from the +bed. But except that she was so very pale, +she did not look very ill; her face wore just +its own patient and happy expression. Her +father would not now let her talk to him; +but he did everything she asked. He read +to her in the Bible; Nettie would turn over +the leaves to the place she wanted, and then +point it out to him with a look of life, and +love, and pleasure, that were like a whole +sermon; and her father read first that sermon +and then the chapter. He went to church +as she asked him; and without her asking +him, after the first Sunday. Nettie stayed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +at home on the bed and sang psalms in her +heart.</p> + +<p>After those two weeks there was a change +for the better. Nettie felt stronger, looked +more as she used to look, and got up and +even went about a little. The weather was +changing too, now. April days were growing +soft and green; trees budding and grass +freshening up, and birds all alive in the +branches; and above all the air and the +light, the wonderful soft breath of spring +and sunshine of spring, made people forget +that winter had ever been harsh or severe.</p> + +<p>Nettie went out and took little walks in +the sun, which seemed to do her good; and +she begged so hard to be allowed to go to +her garret again, that her father took pity +on her; sent Mr. Lumber away, and gave +her her old nice little room on the same +floor with the others. Her mother cleaned +it and put it in order, and Nettie felt too +happy when she found herself mistress of it +again and possessed of a quiet place where +she could read and pray alone. With windows +open, how sweetly the spring walked in there,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +and made it warm, and bright, and fragrant +too. But Nettie had a tenderness for her +old garret as long as she lived.</p> + +<p>"It had got to be full of the Bible, mother," +she said one day. "You know it was too +cold often to sit up there; so I used to go +to bed and lie awake and think of things,—at +night when the stars were shining,—and +in the morning in the moonlight sometimes."</p> + +<p>"But how was the garret full of the Bible, +Nettie?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I had a way of looking at some part +of the roof or the window when I was thinking; +when I couldn't have the Bible in my +hands."</p> + +<p>"Well, how did that make it?"</p> + +<p>"Why the words seemed to be all over, +mother. There was one big nail I used +often to be looking at when I was thinking +over texts, and a knot-hole in one of the +wainscot boards; my texts used to seem to +go in and out of that knot-hole. And somehow, +mother, I got so that I hardly ever +opened the shutter without thinking of those +words—'Open ye the gates, that the righteous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +nation that keepeth the truth may enter in.' +I don't know why, but I used to think of it. +And out of that window I used to see the +stars, and look at the golden city."</p> + +<p>"Look at it!" said Mrs. Mathieson.</p> + +<p>"In my thoughts, you know, mother. Oh, +mother, how happy we are, that are going to +the city! It seems to me as if all that sunlight +was a curtain let down, and the city is +just on the other side."</p> + +<p>It was a lovely spring day, the windows +open, and the country flooded with a soft +misty sunlight, through which the tender +greens of the opening leaf began to appear. +Nettie was lying on the bed in her room, her +mother at work by her side. Mrs. Mathieson +looked at her earnest eyes, and then +wistfully out of the window where they were +gazing.</p> + +<p>"What makes you think so much about +it?" she said, at last.</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I always do. I used to +think about it last winter, looking out at +the stars. Why, mother, you know Jesus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +is there; how can I help thinking about +it?"</p> + +<p>"He is here, too," murmured poor Mrs. +Mathieson.</p> + +<p>"Mother," said Nettie, tenderly, "aren't +those good words,—'He hath not despised +nor abhorred the affliction of the afflicted, +neither hath he hid his face from him; +but when he cried unto him, <em>he heard</em>?' +I have thought of those words, very +often."</p> + +<p>Nettie wished she could sing, for she had +often seen singing comfort her mother; but +she had not the power to-day. She gave her +the best she could. Her words, however, +constantly carried hurt and healing together +to her mother's mind. But when Nettie +went on to repeat softly the verse of a hymn +that follows, she was soothed, notwithstanding +the hinted meaning in the words. So sweet +was the trust of the hymn, so unruffled the +trust of the speaker. The words were from +a little bit of a book of translations of German +hymns which Mr. Folke, her Sunday-school<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +teacher, had brought her, and which was +never out of Nettie's hand.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'As God leads me so my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In faith shall rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No grief nor fear my soul shall part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From Jesus' breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In sweet belief I know<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What way my life doth go—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Since God permitteth so—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That must be best.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Slowly she said the words, with her usual +sober, placid face; and Mrs. Mathieson was +mute.</p> + +<p>For some weeks, as the spring breathed +warmer and warmer, Nettie revived; so +much that her mother at times felt encouraged +about her. Mr. Mathieson was +never deceived. Whether his former neglect +of his child had given him particular keenness +of vision in all that concerned her now, +or for whatever reason, <em>he</em> saw well enough +and saw constantly that Nettie was going to +leave him. There was never a wish of hers +uncared for now; there was not a straw +suffered to lie in her path, that he could +take out of it. He went to church, and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +read at home; he changed his behaviour to +her mother as well as to herself, and he +brought Barry to his bearings. What more +did Nettie want?</p> + +<p>One Sunday, late in May, Nettie had stayed +at home alone while the rest of the family +were gone to church, the neighbour down +stairs having promised to look after her. +She needed no looking after, though; she +spent her time pleasantly with her Bible +and her hymns, till feeling tired she went to +her room to lie down. The windows were +open; it was a very warm day; the trees +were in leaf, and from her bed Nettie could +only see the sunshine in the leaves, and in +one place through a gap in the trees, a bit +of bright hill-side afar off. The birds sang +merrily, and nothing else sounded at all; it +was very Sabbath stillness. So Nettie lay +till she heard the steps of the church-goers +returning; and presently, after her mother +had been there and gone, her father came +into her room to see her. He kissed her, +and said a few words, and then went to the +window and stood there looking out. Both<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +were silent some time, while the birds sang +on.</p> + +<p>"Father," said Nettie.</p> + +<p>He turned instantly, and asked her what +she wanted.</p> + +<p>"Father," said Nettie, "the streets of the +city are all of gold."</p> + +<p>"Well," said he, meeting her grave eyes, +"and what then, Nettie?"</p> + +<p>"Only, I was thinking, if the <em>streets</em> are +gold, how clean must the feet be that walk +on them!"</p> + +<p>He knew what her intent eyes meant, and +he sat down by her bedside and laid his face +in his hands. "I am a sinful man, Nettie!" +he said.</p> + +<p>"Father, 'this is a faithful saying, that +Jesus Christ came into the world to save +sinners.'"</p> + +<p>"I don't deserve he should save me, +Nettie."</p> + +<p>"Well, father, ask him to save you, <em>because</em> +you don't deserve it."</p> + +<p>"What sort of a prayer would that be?"</p> + +<p>"The right one, father; for Jesus does<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +deserve it, and for his sake is the only way. +If you deserved it, you wouldn't want Jesus; +but now '<em>he</em> is our peace.' O father listen, +listen, to what the Bible says." She had +been turning the leaves of her Bible, and +read low and earnestly—"'Now we are ambassadors +for God, as though God did beseech +you by us; we pray you, in Christ's stead, +be ye reconciled to God.' Oh, father, aren't +you willing to be reconciled to him?"</p> + +<p>"God knows I am willing!" said Mr. +Mathieson.</p> + +<p>"<em>He</em> is willing, I am sure," said Nettie. +"'He was wounded for our transgressions, he +was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement +of our peace was upon him.' He has +made peace; he is the Prince of Peace; he +will give it to you, father."</p> + +<p>There was a long silence. Mr. Mathieson +never stirred. Nor Nettie, hardly. The +words were true of her,—"He that believeth +shall not make haste." She waited, looking +at him. Then he said, "What must I do, +Nettie?"</p> + +<p>"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +"How, child?"</p> + +<p>"Father, the best way is to ask him, and +he will tell you how. If you are only willing +to be his servant—if you are willing to give +yourself to the Lord Jesus—are you willing, +father?"</p> + +<p>"I am willing, anything!—if he will have +me," said Mr. Mathieson.</p> + +<p>"Then go, father!" said Nettie, eagerly;—"go +and ask him, and he will teach you how; +he will, he has promised. Go, father, and ask +the Lord—will you? Go now."</p> + +<p>Her father remained still a moment—then +he rose up and went out of the room, and she +heard his steps going up to the unused attic. +Nettie crossed her hands upon her breast, and +smiled. She was too much exhausted to +pray, otherwise than with a thought.</p> + +<p>Her mother soon came in, and startled by +her flushed look, asked how she did. +"Well," Nettie said. Mrs. Mathieson was +uneasy, and brought her something to take, +which Nettie couldn't eat; and insisted on +her lying still and trying to go to sleep. +Nettie thought she could not sleep; and she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +did not for some time; then slumber stole +over her, and she slept sweetly and quietly +while the hours of the summer afternoon +rolled away. Her mother watched beside her +for a long while before she awoke; and +during that time read surely in Nettie's +delicate cheek and too delicate colour, what +was the sentence of separation. She read it, +and smothered the cry of her heart, for +Nettie's sake.</p> + +<p>The sun was descending toward the western +hilly country, and long level rays of light +were playing in the tree-tops, when Nettie +awoke.</p> + +<p>"Are you there, mother?" she said—"and +is the Sunday so near over! How I have +slept."</p> + +<p>"How do you feel, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I feel well," said Nettie. "It has +been a good day. The gold is all in the air +here—not in the streets." She had half +raised herself and was sitting looking out of +the window.</p> + +<p>"Do you think of that city all the time?" +inquired Mrs. Mathieson, half jealously.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +"Mother," said Nettie, slowly, still looking +out at the sunlight, "would you be very +sorry, and very much surprised, if I were to +go there before long?"</p> + +<p>"I should not be very much surprised, +Nettie," answered her mother, in a tone that +told all the rest. Her child's eye turned to +her sorrowfully and understandingly.</p> + +<p>"You'll not be very long before you'll +be there too," she said. "Now kiss me, +mother."</p> + +<p>Could Mrs. Mathieson help it? She took +Nettie in her arms, but instead of the required +kiss there came a burst of passion +that bowed her head in convulsive grief +against her child's breast. The pent-up +sorrow, the great burden of love and tenderness, +the unspoken gratitude, the unspeakable +longing of heart, all came in those +tears and sobs that shook her as if she had +forgotten on what a frail support she was +half resting. Nay, nature must speak this +one time; she had taken the matter into her +own hands, and she was not to be struggled +with, for a while. Nettie bore it—how did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +she bear it? With a little trembling of lip +at first; then that passed, and with quiet +sorrow she saw and felt the suffering which +had broken forth so stormily. True to her +office, the little peacemaker tried her healing +art. Softly stroking her mother's face and head +while she spoke, she said very softly and slowly,</p> + +<p>"Mother, you know it is Jesus that said, +'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall +be comforted.' You have the mourning now, +but he will find the comfort by and by."</p> + +<p>Ashamed of her giving way, and of her +having left it to the weak one to act the part +of the strong, Mrs. Mathieson checked herself, +held up her head and dried her tears. Nettie +lay down wearily.</p> + +<p>"I will stay here, mother," she said, "till +tea is ready; and then I will come." Mrs. +Mathieson went to attend to it.</p> + +<p>When Nettie went into the other room, +her father was sitting there. She said nothing +however, and even for some time did not look +in his face to see what he might have to say +to her. She took a cup of tea and a biscuit, +and eat an egg that her mother had boiled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +for her. It was when supper was over, and +they had moved from the table and Mrs. +Mathieson was busy about, that Nettie turned +her eyes once more upon her father, with +their soft, full inquiry. He looked grave, +subdued, tender; she had heard that in his +voice already; not as she had ever seen him +look before. He met her eyes, and answered +them.</p> + +<p>"I understand it now, Nettie," he said.</p> + +<p>It was worth while to see Nettie's smile. +She was not a child very given to expressing +her feelings, and when pleasure reached that +point with her, it was something to see such +a breaking of light upon a face that generally +dwelt in twilight sobriety. Her father drew +her close, close within his arms; and without +one word Nettie sat there, till, for very happiness +and weariness, she fell asleep; and he +carried her to her room.</p> + +<p>There was a great calm fell upon the family +for a little time thereafter. It was like one +of those spring days that were passed—full +of misty light, and peace, and hope, and +promise. It was a breath of rest.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +But they knew it would end—for a time; +and one summer day the end came. It was +a Sunday again, and again Nettie was lying +on her bed, enjoying in her weakness the +loveliness of the air and beauty without. +Her mother was with her, and knew that she +had been failing very fast for some days. +Nettie knew it too.</p> + +<p>"How soon do you think father will be +home?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Not before another hour, I think," said +Mrs. Mathieson. "Why, what of it, Nettie?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing——" said Nettie, doubtfully. +"I'd like him to come."</p> + +<p>"It wont be long," said her mother.</p> + +<p>"Mother, I am going to give you my little +dear hymn book," said Nettie, presently; +"and I want to read you this hymn now, +and then you will think of me when you read +it. May I?"</p> + +<p>"Read," said Mrs. Mathieson; and she +put up her hand to hide her face from Nettie. +Nettie did not look, however; her eyes were +on her hymn, and she read it, low and +sweetly—very sweetly—through. There was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +no tremor in her voice, but now and then a +little accent of joy or a shade of tenderness.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Meet again! yes, we shall meet again,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though now we part in pain!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His people all<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Together Christ shall call.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Hallelujah!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Soon the days of absence shall be o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And thou shalt weep no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Our meeting day<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Shall wipe all tears away.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Hallelujah!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Now I go with gladness to our home,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With gladness thou shalt come;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There I will wait<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To meet thee at heaven's gate.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Hallelujah!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Dearest! what delight again to share<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Our sweet communion there!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To walk among<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The holy ransomed throng.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Hallelujah!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Here, in many a grief, our hearts were one,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But there in joys alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Joys fading never,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Increasing, deepening ever.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Hallelujah!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Not to mortal sight can it be given<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To know the bliss of heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But thou shalt be<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Soon there, and sing with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Hallelujah!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Meet again! yes, we shall meet again,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though now we part in vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His people all<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Together Christ shall call.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Hallelujah!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mrs. Mathieson's head bowed as the hymn +went on, but she dared not give way to tears, +and Nettie's manner half awed and half +charmed her into quietness. It was not likely +she would forget those words ever. When +the reading had ceased, and in a few minutes +Mrs. Mathieson felt that she could look +toward Nettie again, she saw that the book +had fallen from her hand and that she was +almost fainting. Alarmed instantly, she +called for help, and got one of the inmates +of the house to go after Mr. Mathieson. But +Nettie sank so fast, they were afraid he would +not come in time. The messenger came back +without having been able to find him; for +after the close of the services in the church<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +Mr. Mathieson had gone out of his way on +an errand of kindness. Nettie herself was +too low to ask for him, if indeed she was +conscious that he was not there. They could +not tell; she lay without taking any notice.</p> + +<p>But just as the last rays of the sun were +bright in the leaves of the trees and on the +hills in the distance, Mr. Mathieson's step +was heard. One of the neighbours met him +and told him what he must expect; and +he came straight to Nettie's room. And +when he bent down over her and spoke, +Nettie knew his voice and opened her eyes, +and once more smiled. It was like a smile +from another country. Her eyes were fixed +on him. Mr. Mathieson bent yet nearer +and put his lips to hers; then he tried to +speak.</p> + +<p>"My little peacemaker, what shall I do +without you?"</p> + +<p>Nettie drew a long, long breath. "Peace—is—made," +she slowly said.</p> + +<p>And the peacemaker was gone.</p> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 40px; margin-bottom: 80px;">THE END.</p> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See Frontispiece.</p> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> A festival common in America on the completion of a +house.</p> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <em>Waffles</em>, a species of sweet-cake used on such festivals +in America.</p> + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 80px; margin-bottom: 80px;"><span class="smcap">London: The Broadway, Ludgate Hill.</span><br/> +<span class="smcap">New York: 416, Broome Street.</span> +</p> + + + +<h2>GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS' +JUVENILE BOOKS.</h2> + +<table class="books" summary="George Routledge and Sons' Juvenile Books"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">8</td> +<td class="right">6</td> +<td><span class="smcap">Every Boy's Book.</span> Edited by <em>Edmund Routledge</em>. A New Edition, Re-written and Revised. A Complete Encyclopædia of Sports and Amusements, &c. With 600 Engravings by Harvey and Harrison Weir, and Coloured Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="center fpc" style="margin-bottom: 40px;"><em>In 4to, cloth, and royal 8vo, gilt and gilt edges, price 7s. 6d.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="George Routledge and Sons' Juvenile Books"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">7</td> +<td class="right">6</td> +<td><span class="smcap">Grimm's Household Stories.</span> With 240 Illustrations.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Rev. J. G. Wood's Our Garden Friends and Foes.</span> 200 Illustrations.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Andersen's Stories for the Household.</span> 200 Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Jabez Hogg on the Microscope.</span> 500 Illustrations.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Poets' Corner.</span> A Selection of Poetry. Edited by <em>J. C. M. Bellew</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Sheridan Knowles's Dramatic Works.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Kitto's Bible History.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="center fpc" style="margin-bottom: 40px;"><em>In cloth, gilt edges, price 6s. each.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="George Routledge and Sons' Juvenile Books"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">6</td> +<td class="right">0</td> +<td><span class="smcap">Routledge's Every Boy's Annual.</span> Edited by <em>Edmund Routledge</em>. With Coloured Illustrations.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pepper's Play-Book of Science.</span> 400 Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">D'Aulnoy's Fairy Tales.</span> Translated by <em>Planché</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Don Quixote.</span> With Illustrations.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Planche's Fairy Tales.</span> By <em>Perrault</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">An Illustrated Natural History.</span> By the <em>Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A.</em> With 500 Illustrations by William Harvey, and 8 Full-page Plates by Wolf and Harrison Weir.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pepper's Play-Book of Mines, Minerals, and Metals.</span> With 300 Illustrations.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Motley's Rise of the Dutch Republic.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pictures from Nature.</span> By <em>Mary Howitt</em>. With Coloured Plates.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's Five-Shilling Juvenile Books.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>With Many Illustrations, bound in cloth gilt.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's Five-Shilling Juvenile Books"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">5</td> +<td class="right">0</td> +<td><span class="smcap">My Mother's Picture-Book.</span> Containing 24 Full-page Pictures, printed in Colours by Kronheim. Demy 4to, cloth.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Red Riding-Hood Picture-Book.</span> Containing 24 Full-page Pictures, printed in Colours by Kronheim. Demy 4to.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Snow-White and Rose-Red Picture-Book.</span> With 24 pages of Coloured Plates, by Kronheim and others.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Schnick-Schnack.</span> A New Edition, with Coloured Plates. In New Binding. Imperial 16mo, cloth.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Orville College Boys</span>: A Story of School Life. By <em>Mrs. Henry Wood</em>, Author of "East Lynne." With Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth, gilt edges.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Adventures of Stephen Scudamore.</span> By <em>Arthur Locker</em>. With Full-page Plates. Post 8vo, cloth, gilt edges.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tales of the Civil War.</span> By the <em>Rev. H. C. Adams, M.A.</em> With Full-page Plates. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, gilt edges.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Hunting Grounds of the Old World.</span> By the <em>Old Shekarry</em>. New Edition. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Marryat's Children of the New Forest.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Marryat's Little Savage.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Great Sieges of History.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">M'Farlane's British India.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Lillian's Golden Hours.</span> By <em>Silverpen</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Young Yagers.</span> By <em>Mayne Reid</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Young Voyageurs.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Boy Tar.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wonders of Science.</span> By <em>H. Mayhew</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Peasant Boy Philosopher.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Odd People.</span> By <em>Mayne Reid</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Plant Hunters.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Ran Away to Sea.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The White Brunswickers.</span> By the <em>Rev. H. C. Adams</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Boy's Treasury of Sports and Pastimes.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Hollowdell Grange.</span> By <em>G. M. Fenn</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Queens of Society.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Wits and Beaux of Society.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">My Father's Garden.</span> By <em>Thomas Miller</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Barford Bridge.</span> By <em>Rev. H. C. Adams</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Studies for Stories.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Papers for Thoughtful Girls.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Boy's Own Country Book.</span> By <em>T. Miller</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Forest Ranger.</span> By <em>Major Campbell</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Among the Squirrels.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wonderful Inventions.</span> By <em>John Timbs</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Robinson Crusoe.</span> 300 Illustrations.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Entertaining Knowledge.</span> With 140 Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pleasant Tales.</span> With 140 Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Æsop's Fables.</span> With Plates by H. Weir.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Extraordinary Men and Women.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Dora and her Papa.</span> By the Author of "Lillian's Golden Hours."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tales upon Texts.</span> By <em>Rev. H. C. Adams</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Illustrated Girl's Own Treasury.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Great Battles of the British Army.</span> Coloured Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Prince of the House of David.</span> With Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Pillar of Fire.</span> With Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Throne of David.</span> With Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Story of the Reformation.</span> By <em>D'Aubigné</em></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Popular Astronomy and Orbs of Heaven.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wood's Natural History Picture-Book: Animals.</span> 170 Illustrations. Fcap. 4to.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wood's Natural History Picture-Book: Birds.</span> 240 Illustrations. Fcap. 4to.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wood's Natural History Picture-Book: Fish, Reptiles, Insects,</span> &c. 260 Illustrations. Fcap. 4to.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Golden Light</span>: Stories for the Young. With 80 large Pictures. Imp. 16mo.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Popular Nursery Tales and Rhymes.</span> With 170 Illustrations. Imp. 16mo.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Hans Andersen's Stories and Tales.</span> With 80 Illustrations. Imp. 16mo.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Scripture Natural History.</span> By <em>Maria E. Catlow</em>. With 16 pages of Coloured Illustrations. Square.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Picture History of England.</span> With 80 Full-page Illustrations. Fcap. 4to.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">What the Moon Saw</span>, and Other Tales. By <em>Hans C. Andersen</em>, With 80 Illustrations. Imp. 16mo.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Book of Trades.</span> With Hundreds of Illustrations. Imp. 16mo.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Routledge's Scripture Gift-Book.</span> With Coloured Plates. Demy 4to.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Child's Coloured Scripture Book.</span> With 100 Coloured Plates. Imp. 16mo.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Good Child's Coloured Book.</span> Oblong folio. 24 Coloured Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Child's Picture Book of Wild Animals.</span> 12 Plates, printed in Colours by Kronheim. Large oblong, boards. (Cloth, 6<em>s.</em>)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pictures from English History.</span> 24 Pages of Col. Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Otto Speckter's Picture Fables.</span> With 100 Coloured Plates. 4to, gilt edges.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Pleasure Book of the Year</span>: A Picture Book with Coloured Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Animal Life all the World Over.</span> Large Coloured Plates. Fancy boards. (Cloth, 6<em>s.</em>)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Buds and Flowers of Childish Life.</span> With Coloured Plates (uniform with "Schnick-Schnack"). Imp. 16mo.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Child's Picture Book of Domestic Animals.</span> 12 large Plates, printed in Colours by Kronheim. Large oblong, boards. (In cloth, 6<em>s.</em>)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Our Nurse's Picture Book.</span> With 24 Pages of Coloured Plates. Demy 4to.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Routledge's Picture Scrap-Book.</span> Folio, boards.</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's Three-and-Sixpenny Juvenile Books.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>All well Illustrated, bound in cloth.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's Three-and-Sixpenny Juvenile Books"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">3</td> +<td class="right">6</td> +<td><span class="smcap">Our Domestic Pets.</span> By the <em>Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A.</em> With 16 Full-page Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo, cloth.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Jack of the Mill.</span> By <em>William Howitt</em>. With Page Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo, cloth.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Patience Strong</span>: A Book for Girls. By the Author of "The Gayworthys." With Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo, cloth.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Don Quixote.</span> A New Edition for Family Reading. With Plates by John Gilbert. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Progress.</span> Edited by <em>Archdeacon Allen</em>. With Coloured Plates. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, gilt edges.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Petsetilla's Posy</span>: A Fairy Tale. By <em>Tom Hood</em>. With numerous Illustrations by Fred Barnard. Small 4to, cloth, gilt.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Child Life.</span> With Illustrations by Oscar Pletsch. Small 4to, cloth, gilt edges.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Girl's Birthday Book.</span> With many Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Boy Gipsies.</span> By <em>St. John Corbet</em>. With Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo, cloth gilt.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Routledge's Album for Children.</span> By the Author of "Schnick-Schnack." With 180 Page Plates. Imp. 16mo, cloth.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">What She Did with Her Life.</span> By <em>Marion F. Theed</em>. With Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, gilt edges.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Picture Story-Book.</span> Containing "King Nutcracker," and other Tales. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, gilt edges.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Guizot's Moral Tales.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Hans Andersen's Tales.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Island Home.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Boys at Home.</span> By <em>Miss Adams</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Heroines of History.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Sketches and Anecdotes of Animal Life.</span> By <em>Rev. J. G. Wood</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Esperanza.</span> By <em>Anne Bowman</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Grimm's Home Stories.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Animal Traits and Characteristics.</span> By <em>Rev. J. G. Wood</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">My Feathered Friends.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">White's Selborne.</span> 200 Cuts.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Forest Life.</span> By <em>Newland</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Four Sisters.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Marmaduke Merry, the Midshipman.</span> By <em>Kingston</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Freaks on the Fells.</span> By. <em>R. M. Ballantyne</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Young Yachtsman.</span> By <em>Anne Bowman</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Lamb's Tales from Shakspere.</span> With Coloured Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Balderscourt</span>; or, Holiday Tales. By the <em>Rev. H. C. Adams</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Boy Pilgrims.</span> By <em>Anne Bowman</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Among the Tartar Tents.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Rob Roy.</span> By <em>James Grant</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tom and the Crocodiles.</span> By <em>Anne Bowman</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Johnny Jordan.</span> By <em>Mrs. Eiloart</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Ernie Elton, at Home and at School.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Village Idol.</span> By the Author of "A Trap to Catch a Sunbeam."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Children of Blessing.</span> By the Author of "The Four Sisters."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Last Homes of Departed Genius.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Lost among the Wild Men.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Percy's Tales of the Kings and Queens of England.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Boys of Beechwood.</span> By <em>Mrs. Eiloart</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Cecile Raye.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Papa's Wise Dogs.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Play Hours and Half Holidays.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Kangaroo Hunters.</span> By <em>Anne Bowman</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Golden Rule.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Edgar's Boyhood of Great Men.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Footprints of Famous Men.</span> By <em>J. G. Edgar</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Rev. J. G. Wood's Boy's Own Natural History Book.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tales of Charlton School.</span> By the <em>Rev. H. C. Adams</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">School-Boy Honour.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Red Eric.</span> By <em>R. M. Ballantyne</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Louis' School Days.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wild Man of the West.</span> By <em>R. M. Ballantyne</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Dogs and their Ways.</span> By <em>Williams</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Digby Heathcote.</span> By <em>Kingston</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Bruin.</span> By <em>Mayne Reid</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Desert Home.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Walks and Talks of Two Schoolboys.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Forest Exiles.</span> By <em>Mayne Reid</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Young Nile Voyagers.</span> By <em>Miss Bowman</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wonder Book.</span> By <em>Nathaniel Hawthorne</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Boy Foresters.</span> By <em>Anne Bowman</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Doctor's Ward.</span> By the Author of "The Four Sisters."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Will Adams.</span> By <em>Dalton</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Arabian Nights.</span> Family Edition.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Little Ladders to Learning.</span> First Series.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Little Ladders to Learning.</span> Second Series.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Child's Country Book.</span> By <em>Thos. Miller</em>. With Coloured Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Child's Country Story-Book.</span> By ditto. With Coloured Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Uncle Tom's Cabin.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tom Dunstone's Troubles.</span> By <em>Mrs. Eiloart</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Young Marooners.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Fred and the Gorillas.</span> By <em>Thomas Miller</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Adventures of Robin Hood.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Influence.</span> By the Author of "A Trap to Catch a Sunbeam."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Sporting Adventures in Many Lands.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Girls of the Family.</span> By the Author of "A Trap to Catch a Sunbeam."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Paul Gerard the Cabin Boy.</span> By <em>Kingston</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Dick Rodney.</span> By <em>James Grant</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Jack Manly.</span> By <em>James Grant</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Dashwood Priory.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Heroines of Domestic Life.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Bear-Hunters of the Rocky Mountains.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Helen Mordaunt.</span> By the Author of "Naomi."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Castaways.</span> By <em>Anne Bowman</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Boy Voyagers.</span> By <em>Anne Bowman</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Young Exiles.</span> By <em>Anne Bowman</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Matilda Lonsdale.</span> By <em>C. Adams</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Lillieslea.</span> By <em>Mary Howitt</em>.</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h3 class="books">Three-and-Sixpenny One-Syllable Juveniles.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>Square 16mo, cloth gilt, Coloured Plates; by Mary Godolphin.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Three-and-Sixpenny One-Syllable Juveniles"> +<tr> +<td><span class="smcap">Robinson Crusoe.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><span class="smcap">Swiss Family Robinson.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><span class="smcap">Evenings at Home.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><span class="smcap">Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>Also Uniform, in Short Words.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Three-and-Sixpenny One-Syllable Juveniles"> +<tr> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><span class="smcap">The Child's Country Book.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><span class="smcap">The Child's Country Story Book.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's Three-and-Sixpenny Reward Books.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>With 8 Illustrations, fcap. 8vo, bevelled boards, +gilt sides and gilt edges.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's Three-and-Sixpenny Reward Books"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">3</td> +<td class="right">6</td> +<td><span class="smcap">Robinson Crusoe.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Sandford and Merton.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Evenings at Home.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Swiss Family Robinson.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Edgeworth's Popular Tales.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Edgeworth's Moral Tales.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Edgeworth's Parent's Assistant.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Edgeworth's Early Lessons.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Old Tales for the Young.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Clarissa</span>; or, The Mervyn Inheritance. By <em>Miss Bowman</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Old Helmet.</span> By the Author of "The Wide, Wide World."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Wide, Wide World.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Dawnings of Genius.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Travels of Rolando.</span> First Series.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Celebrated Children.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Edgar Clifton.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Lamplighter.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Melbourne House.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Romance of Adventure.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Seven Wonders of the World.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Queechy.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Ellen Montgomery's Bookshelf.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Two School Girls.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Ancient Cities of the World.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's Two-and-Sixpenny Juvenile Books.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>Well Illustrated, and bound in cloth.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's Two-and-Sixpenny Juvenile Books"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">2</td> +<td class="right">6</td> +<td><span class="smcap">Friend or Foe.</span> A Tale of Sedgmoor. By the <em>Rev. H. C. Adams, M.A.</em> With Page Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo, cloth.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Eda Morton and her Cousins.</span> By <em>M. M. Bell</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Gilbert the Adventurer.</span> By <em>Peter Parley</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Lucky Penny</span>, and other Tales. By <em>Mrs. S. C. Hall</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Minnie Raymond.</span> Illustrated by B. Foster.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Helena Bertram.</span> By the Author of "The Four Sisters."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Heroes of the Workshop</span>, &c. By <em>E. L. Brightwell</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Sunshine and Clouds.</span> By <em>Miss Bowman</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Maze of Life.</span> By the Author of "The Four Sisters."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Wide, Wide World.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Lamplighter.</span> By <em>Cummins</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Rector's Daughter.</span> By <em>Miss Bowman</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Old Helmet.</span> By <em>Miss Wetherell</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Queechy.</span> By <em>Miss Wetherell</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Sir Roland Ashton.</span> By <em>Lady C. Long</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Twins</span>; or, Sisterly Love.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Ellen Montgomery's Bookshelf.</span> Coloured Illustrations.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Two School Girls.</span> With Coloured Illustrations.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Melbourne House.</span> By <em>Miss Wetherell</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Word, and Walks from Eden.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Rough Diamonds.</span> By <em>John Hollingshead</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Medwins of Wykeham.</span> By the Author of "Marian."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Boy Cavalier.</span> By the <em>Rev. H. C. Adams</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Gilderoy, the Hero of Scotland.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Fairy Tales.</span> By <em>Madame de Chatelaine</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Emily Chester.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Lamb's Tales.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Stories of Old Daniel.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Extraordinary Men.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Extraordinary Women.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Young Artists.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Life of Napoleon.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Popular Astronomy.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Orbs of Heaven.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pilgrim's Progress.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's Two-Shilling Juvenile Books.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>Illustrated. Bound in Cloth.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's Two-Shilling Juvenile Books"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">2</td> +<td class="right">0</td> +<td><span class="smcap">Austen's Tales.</span> Five vols., with Illustrations, fcap. 8vo, cloth, price 2<em>s.</em> each.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Village Sketches.</span> By the <em>Rev. C. T. Whitehead</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Play-Day Book.</span> By <em>Fanny Fern</em>. With Coloured Plates by Kronheim. Fcap. 8vo, cloth.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Conquest and Self-Conquest.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Evenings at Donaldson Manor.</span> By <em>M'Intosh</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Grace and Isabel.</span> By <em>M'Intosh</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Gertrude and Eulalie.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Robert and Harold.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Amy Carlton.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Robinson Crusoe.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Laura Temple.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Our Native Land.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Harry and his Homes.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Solitary Hunter.</span> By <em>Palliser</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Bundle of Sticks</span>; or, Love and Hate. By <em>J. & E. Kirby</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Family Pictures from the Bible.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Hester and I</span>; or, Beware of Worldliness.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Cherry-Stones.</span> By the <em>Rev. H. C. Adams</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The First of June.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Rosa.</span> A Story for Girls.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">May Dundas</span>; or, The Force of Example. By <em>Mrs. Geldart</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Glimpses of Our Island Home.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Indian Boy.</span> By the <em>Rev. H. C. Adams</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Ernie Elton at Home.</span> By <em>Mrs. Eiloart</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Standard Poetry Book for Schools.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Try and Trust.</span> By the Author of "Arthur Morland."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Ten Moral Tales.</span> By <em>Guizot</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Orphans of Waterloo.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Boy's Reader.</span> With Illustrations.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Girl's Reader.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Gates Ajar.</span> With 8 Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Charms and Counter Charms.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Robinson the Younger.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Juvenile Tales.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Swiss Family Robinson.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Evenings at Home.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Sandford and Merton.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Ernie Elton at School.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">John Hartley.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Wonder Book.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tanglewood Tales.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Archie Blake.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Inez and Emmeline.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Maum Guinea.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Jack of all Trades.</span> By <em>T. Miller</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Orphan of Waterloo.</span> By <em>Mrs. Blackford</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Adventures of Joseph Hawsepipe.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Todd's Lectures to Children.</span> 1st and 2nd Series.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Marooner's Island.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Mayflower.</span> By <em>Mrs. Stowe</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Anecdotes of Dogs.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Moss-Side.</span> By <em>Miss Harland</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Mr. Rutherford's Children.</span> Complete.</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's Eighteenpenny Juveniles.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>Square 16mo, with Illustrations by</em> <span class="smcap">Gilbert</span>, <span class="smcap">Absolon</span>, <em>&c.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's Eighteenpenny Juveniles"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">1</td> +<td class="right">6</td> +<td><span class="smcap">On the Seas.</span> A Book for Boys.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Peasant and Prince.</span> By <em>Harriet Martineau</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Crofton Boys.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Feats on the Fiord.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Settlers at Home.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Little Drummer</span>: A Tale of the Russian War.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Frank.</span> By <em>Maria Edgeworth</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Rosamond.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Harry and Lucy</span>, <span class="smcap">Little Dog Trusty</span>, &c.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">A Hero</span>; or, Philip's Book. By the Author of "John Halifax."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Cabin by the Wayside.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Black Princess.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Laura and Ellen</span>; or, Time Works Wonders.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Emigrant's Lost Son.</span> By <em>G. H. Hall</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Runaways and the Gipsies.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">British Wolf Hunters.</span> By <em>Thomas Miller</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Bow of Faith</span>; or, Old Testament Lessons.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Anchor of Hope</span>; or, New Testament Lessons. By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Accidents of Childhood</span>; or, Stories of Heedless Children.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Annie Maitland</span>; or, The Lesson of Life. By <em>D. Richmond</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Lucy Elton</span>; or, Home and School.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Young Naturalist.</span> By <em>Mrs. Loudon</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Memoirs of a Doll.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Rose and Kate.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Story of an Apple.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Holiday Rambles.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Daily Thoughts for Children.</span> By <em>Mrs. Geldart</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Emilie the Peacemaker.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Truth is Everything.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Christmas Holidays.</span> By <em>Miss Jane Strickland</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Aunt Emma.</span> By the Author of "Rose and Kate."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Island of the Rainbow.</span> By <em>Mrs. Newton Crossland</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Max Frere</span>; Or, Return Good for Evil.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Rainbows in Springtide.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Child's First Book of Natural History.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Florence the Orphan.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Castle and the Cottage.</span> By <em>Mrs. Perring</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Fabulous Histories.</span> By <em>Mrs. Trimmer</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">School Days at Harrow.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Mrs. Barbauld's Lessons.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Holidays at Limewood.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Traditions of Palestine.</span> By <em>Mrs. Martineau</em>.</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's One-Shilling Juveniles.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>Well printed, with Illustrations, 18mo, cloth.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's One-Shilling Juveniles"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">1</td> +<td class="right">0</td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Sunday Book.</span> In Words of One Syllable. Illust.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Our Poor Neighbours.</span> By <em>Mrs. Perring</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Village Sketches.</span> By the <em>Rev. C. T. Whitehead</em>, 1st and 2nd Series, 1<em>s.</em> Each.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Grace Greenwood's Stories.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Helen's Fault.</span> By the Author of "Adelaide Lindsay."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Cousins.</span> By <em>Miss M'Intosh</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Ben Howard</span>; or, Truth and Honesty. By <em>C. Adams</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Bessie and Tom.</span> A Book for Boys and Girls.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Beechnut.</span> A Franconian Story. By <em>Jacob Abbott</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wallace.</span> A Franconian Story. By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Madeline.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Mary Erskine.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Mary Bell.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Visit to my Birthplace.</span> By <em>Miss Bunbury</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Carl Krinken</span>; or, The Christmas Stocking.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Mr. Rutherford's Children.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Mr. Rutherford's Children.</span> 2nd Series. By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Emily Herbert.</span> By <em>Miss M'Intosh</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Rose and Lillie Stanhope.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Caspar.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Brave Boy</span>; or, Christian Heroism.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Magdalene and Raphael.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pleasant Tales.</span> By <em>Mrs. Sedgwick</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Uncle Frank's Home Stories.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Gates Ajar.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Story of a Mouse.</span> By <em>Mrs. Perring</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Our Charlie.</span> By <em>Mrs. Stowe</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Village School Feast.</span> By <em>Mrs. Perring</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Nelly the Gipsy Girl.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Birthday Visit.</span> By <em>Miss Wetherell</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Stories for Week Days and Sundays.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Maggie and Emma.</span> By <em>Miss M'Intosh</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Charley and Georgy</span>; or, The Children at Gibraltar.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Story of a Penny.</span> By <em>Mrs. Perring</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Aunt Maddy's Diamonds.</span> By <em>Harriet Myrtle</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Two School Girls.</span> By <em>Miss Wetherell</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Widow and Her Daughter.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Gertrude and her Bible.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Rose in the Desert.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Little Black Hen.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Martha and Rachel.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Carpenter's Daughter.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Prince in Disguise.</span> By ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Story of a Cat.</span> By <em>Mrs. Perring</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Easy Poetry for Children.</span> With Coloured Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Basket of Flowers.</span> With ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Ashgrove Farm.</span> By <em>Mrs. Myrtle</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Story of a Dog.</span> By <em>Mrs. Perring</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Angel of the Iceberg.</span> By the <em>Rev. John Todd</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Rills from the Fountain.</span> A Lesson for the Young.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Todd's Lectures to Children.</span> (First Series.)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Todd's Lectures to Children.</span> (Second Series.)</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Little Poems for Little Readers.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Minnie's Legacy.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Neighbourly Love.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Kitty's Victory.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Elise and her Rabbits.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Happy Charlie.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Annie Price.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Little Oxleys.</span> By <em>Mrs. W. Denzey Burton</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Book of One Syllable.</span> With Coloured Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Little Helps.</span> With Coloured Plates.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Uncle Tom's Cabin</span>, for Children.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Aunt Margaret's Visit.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Keeper's Travels in Search of his Master.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Richmond's Annals of the Poor.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Child's Illustrated Poetry Book.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The New Book of One Syllable.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Blanche and Agnes.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Lost Chamois-Hunter.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's New Series of Shilling Toy Books.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>With Large Illustrations by</em> <span class="smcap">H. S. Marks</span>, <span class="smcap">J. D. Watson</span>, +<span class="smcap">H. Weir</span>, <em>and</em> <span class="smcap">Keyl</span>, <em>Printed in Colours by Kronheim +and Others. Demy 4to, stiff wrapper; or mounted on +Linen, 2s.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's New Series of Shilling Toy Books"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">1</td> +<td class="right">0</td> +<td><span class="smcap">Alphabet of Trades.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Cinderella.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Alphabet of Pretty Names.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Old Testament Alphabet.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Three Little Kittens.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The History of Five Little Pigs.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tom Thumb's Alphabet.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">New Testament Alphabet.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Cats' Tea Party.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Our Farm-yard Alphabet.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The History of Moses.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The History of Joseph.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Alphabet of Flowers.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Nursery Rhymes</span>, 2nd Series.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Nursery Games.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The House that Jack Built.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Life of Our Lord.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Three Bears.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Red Riding-Hood.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">New Tale of a Tub.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Nursery Tales.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Old Mother Hubbard.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pictures from English History</span>, 1st Period.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pictures from English History</span>, 2nd Period.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pictures from English History</span>, 3rd Period.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pictures from English History</span>, 4th Period.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Puss in Boots.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tom Thumb.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Babes in the Wood.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Jack and the Bean-Stalk.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Laughable A B C.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wild Animals</span>, 1st Series.*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wild Animals</span>, 2nd Series.*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wild Animals</span>, 3rd Series.*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wild Animals</span>, 4th Series.*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tame Animals</span>, 1st Series.*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tame Animals</span>, 2nd Series.*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tame Animals</span>, 3rd Series.*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tame Animals</span>, 4th Series.*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">My Mother.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Dogs' Dinner Party.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Little Dog Trusty.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The White Cat.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Ugly Duckling.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Little Snow-White.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Dash and the Ducklings.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="center fpc">* <em>Those marked with an asterisk are</em> <span class="smcap">NOT</span> <em>kept on linen.</em></p> + + +<h3 class="books">Aunt Mavor's Toy Books.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>Large Coloured Sixpenny Books for Children, with greatly +improved Illustrations, super-royal 8vo, in wrappers.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Aunt Mavor's Toy Books"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">0</td> +<td class="right">6</td> +<td><span class="smcap">History of Our Pets.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">History of Blue Beard.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Sindbad the Sailor.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">A, Apple Pie.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tom Thumb's Alphabet.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Baron Munchausen.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Picture Alphabet.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Arthur's Alphabet.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Dorothy Frump and her Six Dogs.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Singing Birds.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Parrots & Talking Birds.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Dogs.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Nursery Rhymes.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Birds.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Railroad Alphabet.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Alphabet for Good Boys and Girls.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Sea-Side Alphabet.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Farm-Yard Alphabet.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Greedy Jem and his Little Brothers.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Our Puss and Her Kittens.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Hop o' my Thumb.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Jack the Giant Killer.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Little Red Riding-Hood.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Beauty and the Beast.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Happy Days of Childhood.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Little Dog Trusty.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Cats' Tea Party.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Babes in the Wood.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wild Animals.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">British Animals.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Frog who would a-Wooing Go.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Faithless Parrot.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Farm-Yard.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Horses.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Old Dame Trot.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Multiplication Table.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Chattering Jack.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">King Cole.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Prince Long Nose.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Enraged Miller.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Hunchback.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">How Jessie was Lost.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Grammar in Rhyme.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Baby's Birthday.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pictures from the Streets.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Lost on the Sea-shore.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Animals and Birds.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">A Child's Fancy Dress Ball.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">A Child's Evening Party.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Annie and Jack in London.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">One, Two, Buckle my Shoe.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Mary's New Doll.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">When the Cat's Away.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Naughty Puppy.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Children's Favourites.</span>*</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Naughty Boys and Girls.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Little Minxes.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Struwelpeter.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Little Minnie's Child Life.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">King Nutcracker.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Lazy Bones.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">British Soldiers.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">British Sailors.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">British Volunteers.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Laughter Book for Children.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Grisly Beard.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Rumpelstiltskin.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Dog Puffy.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Fairy Ship.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>The above, except those marked with an asterisk, may be had +strongly mounted on cloth, price One Shilling each.</em></p> + + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's New Threepenny Toy Books.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>With Coloured Pictures.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's New Threepenny Toy Books"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">0</td> +<td class="right">3</td> +<td><span class="smcap">Cinderella.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Red Riding-Hood.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Jack and the Beanstalk.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Puss in Boots.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's Sixpenny Juveniles.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>Royal 32mo, with Illustrations, gilt edges.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's Sixpenny Juveniles"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">0</td> +<td class="right">6</td> +<td><span class="smcap">History of My Pets.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Hubert Lee.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Ellen Leslie.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Jessie Graham.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Florence Arnott.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Blind Alice.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Grace and Clara.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Recollections of My Childhood.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Egerton Roscoe.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Flora Mortimer.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Charles Hamilton.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Story of a Drop of Water.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Learning Better than Houses and Land.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Maud's First Visit to her Aunt.</span> In Words of One Syllable.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Easy Poems.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Boy Captive.</span> By <em>Peter Parley</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Stories of Child Life.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Dairyman's Daughter.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Arthur's Tales for the Young.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Hawthorne's Gentle Boy.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pleasant and Profitable.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The False Key.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Bracelets.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Waste Not, Want Not.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tarleton</span>, and <span class="smcap">Forgive and Forget</span>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Lazy Lawrence and the White Pigeon.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Barring Out.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Orphans and Old Poz.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Mimic.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Purple Jar</span>, and other Tales.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Parley's Poetry & Prose.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Arthur's Stories for Little Girls.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Young Cottager.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Parley's Thos. Titmouse.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Arthur's Christmas Story.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Lost Lamb.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Arthur's Stories for Little Boys.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Arthur's Organ Boy.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Margaret Jones.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Two School Girls.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Widow and her Daughter.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Rose in the Desert.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Birthday Present</span> and <span class="smcap">The Basket Woman</span>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Simple Susan.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Little Merchants.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Tale of the Universe.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Robert Dawson.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Kate Campbell.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Basket of Flowers.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Babes in the Basket.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Jewish Twins.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Children on the Plains.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Little Henry and his Bearer.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Little Black Hen.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Martha and Rachel.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Carpenter's Daughter.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Prince in Disguise.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Gertrude and her Bible.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Contrast.</span> <em>Miss Edgeworth.</em></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Grateful Negro.</span> <em>Do.</em></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Jane Hudson.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">A Kiss for a Blow.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Young Negro Servant.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Lina and her Cousins.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Arthur's Last Penny.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Bright-eyed Bessie.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Gates Ajar.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's Fourpenny Juveniles.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>Royal 32mo, fancy covers.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's Fourpenny Juveniles"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">0</td> +<td class="right">4</td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Basket of Flowers.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Babes in the Basket.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Easy Poems for Children.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Jessie Graham.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">History of My Pets.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Florence Arnott.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Robert Dawson.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Recollections of My Childhood.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Brooke and Brooke Farm.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Life in the Wilds.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Hill and the Valley.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Widow and her Daughter.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Two School Girls.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Jane Hudson.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">A Kiss for a Blow.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Hubert Lee.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Flora Mortimer.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">A Drop of Water.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The False Key.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Bracelets.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Purple Jar.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Simple Susan.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Kate Campbell.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Little Henry and his Bearer.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">The Gates Ajar.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's Five-Shilling Poets.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>Edited by Rev.</em> <span class="smcap">R. A. Willmott</span>. <em>Illustrated by</em> <span class="smcap">Foster</span>, +<span class="smcap">Gilbert</span>, <span class="smcap">Corbould</span>, <span class="smcap">Franklin</span>, <em>and</em> <span class="smcap">Harvey</span>. <em>Elegantly +printed on good paper, post 8vo, gilt edges, bevelled +boards.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's Five-Shilling Poets"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">5</td> +<td class="right">0</td> +<td><span class="smcap">Spenser's Faerie Queene.</span> Illustrated by Corbould.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Chaucer's Canterbury Tales.</span> Illustrated by ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Kirke White.</span> By <em>Southey</em>. Illustrated by Birket Foster.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Southey's Joan of Arc, and Minor Poems.</span> Illustrated by Gilbert.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pope's Poetical Works.</span> Edited by Carey.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Milton's Poetical Works.</span> Illustrated by Harvey.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Thomson, Beattie, and West.</span> Illust. by Birket Foster.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Herbert.</span> With Life and Notes by <em>Rev. R. A. Willmott</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Cowper.</span> Illust. by Birket Foster. Edited by <em>Willmott</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Longfellow's Complete Poetical Works.</span> Illustrated.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Longfellow's Prose Works.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Burns' Poetical Works.</span> Illustrated by John Gilbert.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Fairfax's Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered.</span> Illustrated by Corbould.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry.</span> Illust. by ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Scott's Poetical Works.</span> Illustrated by ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Mackay's Ballads and Lyrics.</span> Illust. by John Gilbert.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wordsworth.</span> Illustrated by Birket Foster.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Crabbe.</span> Illustrated by ditto.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Mackay's Songs.</span> Complete Edition. Illust. by Gilbert.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Eliza Cook's Poems.</span> With Illustrations and Portrait.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Moore's Poems.</span> Illustrated by Corbould, &c.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Byron's Poems.</span> Illustrated by Gilbert, Wolf, Foster.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Bennett's Poetical Works.</span> Portrait and Illustrations.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Campbell's Poetical Works.</span> Illustrated by W. Harvey.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Lover's Poetical Works.</span> Portrait and Illustrations.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Rogers' Poetical Works.</span> With Portrait, &c.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Lord Lytton's Poetical Works.</span> 7<em>s.</em> 6<em>d.</em></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Lord Lytton's Dramatic Works.</span> 6<em>s.</em></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Dryden's Poetical Works.</span> With Portrait, &c.</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's Three-and-Sixpenny Poets, &c.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>Printed on tinted paper, fcap. 8vo, gilt edges. With +Illustrations.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's Three-and-Sixpenny Poets, etc."> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">3</td> +<td class="right">6</td> +<td><span class="smcap">Longfellow's Complete Poetical Works.</span> Illust.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Cowper.</span> Illust. by Birket Foster. Edited by <em>Willmott</em>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Milton's Poetical Works.</span> Illustrated by Harvey.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wordsworth's Poetical Works.</span> Illust. by B. Foster.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Southey's Joan of Arc, and Minor Poems.</span> Illust. by Gilbert.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Goldsmith, Johnson, Shenstone, and Smollett.</span> Do.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Kirke White.</span> By <em>Southey</em>. Illustrated by Birket Foster.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Burns.</span> Illustrated by Gilbert.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Thomas Moore's Poems.</span> Illustrated by Corbould.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Byron's Poems.</span> Illustrated by Gilbert, Wolf, &c.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pope's Poetical Works.</span> Illustrated by Gilbert.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Scott's Poetical Works.</span> With Illustrations.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Herbert's Works.</span> With Illustrations.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell's Poetical Works.</span> Illust. by Gilbert.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Shakespeare's Complete Works.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Chaucer's Poetical Works.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Willis's Poetical Works.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Golden Gleanings.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Choice Poems and Lyrics.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Shakespeare Gems.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Book of Wit and Humour.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wise Sayings of the Great and Good.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Montgomery's Poems.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's Two-and-Sixpenny Poets.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>Fcap. 8vo, with Illustrations, in cloth.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's Two-and-Sixpenny Poets"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">2</td> +<td class="right">6</td> +<td><span class="smcap">Longfellow's Complete Poetical Works.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Scott's Poems.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Byron's Poems.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Cowper's Poems.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Wordsworth's Poems.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Burns' Poems.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Moore's Poems.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Milton's Poems.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Pope's Poems.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>Or bound in a new style, 8 vols., cloth, £1.</em></p> + + +<h3 class="books">Routledge's Pocket Poets.</h3> + +<p class="center fpc"><em>18mo, with Portrait.</em></p> + +<table class="books" summary="Routledge's Pocket Poets"> +<tr> +<th class="right">s.</th> +<th class="right">d.</th> +<th style="width: 100%;"> </th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="right">1</td> +<td class="right">0</td> +<td><span class="smcap">Longfellow's Complete Poetical Works.</span> Paper, 1<em>s.</em>; cloth, 1<em>s.</em> 6<em>d.</em></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Burns' Complete Poetical Works.</span> Paper, 1<em>s.</em>; cloth, 1<em>s.</em> 6<em>d.</em></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +<td><span class="smcap">Scott's Poetical Works.</span> Cloth, 1<em>s.</em></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 60px;">London: THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL.</p> +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 40px;">New York: 416, BROOME STREET.</p> + +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 80px;">J. OGDEN AND CO., PRINTERS, 172, ST. JOHN STREET E C.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Carpenter's Daughter, by +Anna Bartlett Warner and Susan Bogert Warner + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER *** + +***** This file should be named 22061-h.htm or 22061-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/0/6/22061/ + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Jana Srna and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was made using scans of public domain works in +the International Children's Digital Library.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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