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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..787e8d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65830 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65830) diff --git a/old/65830-0.txt b/old/65830-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9329801..0000000 --- a/old/65830-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2603 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Two Christmas Stories: Sam Franklin's -Savings-Bank; A Miserable Christmas and a Happy New Year, by Hesba Stretton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Two Christmas Stories: Sam Franklin's Savings-Bank; A Miserable - Christmas and a Happy New Year - -Author: Hesba Stretton - -Release Date: July 12, 2021 [eBook #65830] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO CHRISTMAS STORIES: SAM -FRANKLIN'S SAVINGS-BANK; A MISERABLE CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR *** - - - - -TWO CHRISTMAS STORIES - - - - -By the Author of ‘Jessica’s First Prayer.’ - -_Uniform with this Volume, gilt, cloth limp, each with Frontispiece._ - -Price Sixpence each - - - FRIENDS TILL DEATH. - THE WORTH OF A BABY and HOW APPLE-TREE COURT WAS WON. 1 vol. - MICHEL LORIO’S CROSS. - OLD TRANSOME. - - For a list of other Works by the same Author, - see the Catalogue at the end of this work. - - -HENRY S. KING & CO., LONDON. - - - - -[Illustration: ‘That’s an old waistcoat of mine.’ - - _See page 24._] - - - - - TWO CHRISTMAS STORIES - - _SAM FRANKLIN’S SAVINGS-BANK_ - - _A MISERABLE CHRISTMAS AND - A HAPPY NEW YEAR_ - - - BY - HESBA STRETTON - - AUTHOR OF - ‘LOST GIP’ ‘CASSY’ ‘JESSICA’S FIRST PRAYER’ ETC. - - - WITH TWO ILLUSTRATIONS - - - _HENRY S. KING & CO., LONDON_ - 1876 - - -(_All rights reserved_) - - - - -SAM FRANKLIN’S SAVINGS-BANK. - - -If any one had told Sam Franklin before he married that he would ever -save money out of his wages, he would have laughed the idea to scorn; -they had never been more than enough when he had only himself to keep, -and when there was a wife into the bargain, what chance would there be -for him to have a penny to put by? Yet, before he had been a husband -many weeks, he had made the discovery that the wages which had only -been enough for one were rather more than enough for two. There were no -dinners at the cookshops to be paid for, no long evenings spent in the -public-houses, no laundresses’ bills to meet. He had a great deal more -comfort with a somewhat smaller outlay. - -When Sam found half-a-crown in his pocket over and above the sum he -allowed his wife for housekeeping and rent, he hardly knew what to do -with it. His own fireside was very comfortable, and he did not care to -leave it for the tavern. He and his wife were living on the first-floor -of a house in a decent, quiet street, mostly occupied by artisans -like himself, though the houses were from three to four stories high, -and had been built for richer people. They had a sitting-room, with -a bedroom behind it, and the use of a back kitchen for cooking and -washing; so the place was quite large enough for comfort. Ann Franklin -had notions of cleanliness and smartness, which made her take great -pride in herself and all her belongings. The parlour, as she liked it -to be called, was kept bright and cheerful, and that man must have -had a strange idea of comfort who preferred the noise and smoke of a -public-house taproom. - -What, then, was Sam to do with his spare half-crown? It doubled itself -into five shillings, and by-and-by a golden half-sovereign lay among -the silver and copper he carried loose in his pocket. He was a man -of few words--a close man, his comrades called him--and silent as -the grave concerning his own affairs. Had he told one of them when -he was about to be married? Not his best friend amongst them! Had he -mentioned it as a piece of news interesting to himself that he had a -son born? Never! He despised men who could not keep a still tongue -in their heads, but must prate about all they did or thought. Even -with his wife he was sparing of words, though he liked her to tell him -everything she did, and keep no secret from him. But then Ann was only -a woman; a man should have more control over his tongue. - -So Sam Franklin did not say a word about his savings, though they -seemed to grow like seed sown in good ground. Every week he gave his -wife the sum they had first agreed upon, and she made the best of it -cheerfully, letting him know how every penny was spent, and sometimes -wondering to him how his comrades’ wives managed to be so much smarter -than she was. At first he had thoughts of buying her a new bonnet or -shawl, but he scarcely liked to own that he had been keeping back -the money from her. This difficulty became greater as the sum grew -larger; and, besides that, the possession of it began to get a hold -upon him. It gave to him a secret consciousness of wealth among his -fellow-workmen, which was very pleasant for a time; but by-and-by this -feeling passed away, and a strange, unaccountable dread of being poor -took possession of him. He began to talk about bad times, and the high -prices of provisions and clothing, and the expenses of a family, though -his own consisted of his cheery, managing wife, and one boy only. But -this change in Sam Franklin was so gradual, that neither himself -nor his wife had any idea what was going on. He spent his evenings -at home, and went nearly every Sunday to the place of worship which -Ann and Johnny constantly attended. Ann was very proud of her tall, -fine-looking husband, whose clothes she kept in such good order that he -looked, in her eyes at least, quite a gentleman. No one had a word to -say against him, though if it had been otherwise, Ann was too true a -wife to let it be said in her presence. He was industrious and steady, -and kind to her and the boy; and if she had to work hard to keep them -both tidy and respectable, why, it was the fault of the bad times, not -her husband’s. - -When Sam Franklin had saved ten pounds, and had two Bank of England -notes to take care of, his difficulty and perplexity had very much -increased. There was no Post-office Savings-bank, and he had no faith -in the old savings-banks, for he could remember how his poor old -mother had lost every penny of her painful savings by the breaking of -the one she had put her money into. He dare not tell Ann about it, -after keeping such a secret so long. The money became a trouble to -him, though perhaps it was his most cherished possession. Certainly he -thought of it oftener than of Ann or Johnny, for wherever he hid it, -it could not but be a source of anxiety to him. If he took it to the -work-yard with him he was fearful of losing it, whilst if he left it -at home he was quite as much alarmed lest Ann should find it. How it -would alter the face of things if she discovered that he was the owner -of all that money, and had never told her! - -At length, when his savings mounted up to twenty pounds, a bright idea -struck him one day. He stayed at home the next Sunday evening, and -having found his old wedding waistcoat, which was lined with a good -strong linen lining, he carefully unpicked a part of one of the seams -large enough to take in a folded bank-note, and spread them as high as -he could reach with his finger up and down the breast of it. He could -not stitch it up again as neatly as it had been sewn before, but he -was obliged to trust to Ann not noticing it, for it was a worn-out -waistcoat and past her regard altogether: yet when she came home the -first thing she saw was that he had it on with his coat buttoned across -it. - -‘Good gracious, Sam!’ she cried, ‘whatever made you put on that old -thing?’ - -‘It’s warmer than any I’ve got,’ he answered, putting his hand up -against the breast of it where the bank-notes lay safe and hidden. - -‘It’s so old-fashioned,’ she said, discontentedly; ‘but it doesn’t -matter much if you won’t go out of doors in it. Men have no notion of -things.’ - -‘What was the text, Ann?’ he inquired, simply to turn away her -attention from the old waistcoat. - -‘Oh! it hadn’t anything to do with us,’ she replied, more cheerfully; -‘it was, ‘The love of money is the root of all evil.’ Nothing for us in -that, you know, though the preacher did say we might love it as much -from craving after it as having it. Well, I neither have it, nor crave -it.’ - -Sam felt uncomfortable, and did not make any further remark. He told -his wife he should always put on his old waistcoat when he came in -from his work; and he continued to do so regularly for some time, then -occasionally, until after awhile the waistcoat simply hung on a nail -behind the bedroom door, only being taken down once a week by Ann, to -have the dust brushed from it. Every now and then he had another note -to add to those he had already secured; and he became so skilled in -opening and sewing the seam, that there was no fear of Ann noticing -any difference. Even yet he would wear it upon a rainy Sunday, feeling -a deep satisfaction in his admirable scheme for concealing and taking -care of his savings. - -Month after month, and year after year, the old waistcoat kept his -secret faithfully. His eyes rested upon it first thing in the morning -and last thing at night, hanging behind the door, as if it would hang -there for ever. He grew more stingy then ever, grudging his wife -her bits of blue and pink ribbon, with which she made herself smart, -and altogether refused to send Johnny to a school where the fee was -sixpence a week, instead of the threepence he had paid hitherto at a -dame’s-school. He was longing to make up fifty pounds; he had already -forty-five in his waistcoat, and how much more fifty pounds sounded -than forty-five! - -He had between three and four pounds towards this very desirable end, -when one night, upon his return from work, he went as usual into the -back room to wash his hands and face, and glanced at once towards the -familiar object behind the door. But it was not there! The place was -bare, and the nail empty. The mere sight of an empty nail in that place -filled him with terror; but no doubt Ann had laid it away in some -drawer. His voice, as he called to her, was broken and tremulous. - -‘Where have you put my old waistcoat?’ he asked. He could hear her -pouring the boiling water over the tea in the next room, and she did -not answer before clicking down the lid of the teapot. - -‘Oh, it was only harbouring the dust,’ she answered, in a cheerful -voice, ‘so I made a right good bargain, and sold it for ninepence to an -old-clothesman.’ - -The shock was so sudden that Sam staggered as if he had received a -heavy blow, and fell on the floor. He did not quite lose his senses, -for he felt Ann trying to lift him up, and heard her asking what ailed -him. In a minute or two he managed to get up and sit down on the foot -of the bed, but still he found himself giddy and stunned. - -‘Where is it?’ he cried, bursting into tears and sobs, like a child; -‘where is it?’ - -‘The old waistcoat?’ she asked, thinking he was gone out of his mind. - -‘Yes!’ he said. ‘There was nine five-pound notes in it; forty-five -pounds in Bank of England notes!’ - -At first Ann thought his head had been hurt by his fall, and he was -rambling; but as he kept on moaning over his loss, and confessing how -he had concealed the notes from her, she began to believe him, and all -the sooner when he pulled out the three sovereigns he had saved towards -the tenth note and flung them on the floor in angry despair. - -‘And I don’t know the man from Adam!’ cried Ann. ‘I never saw him -before; and he’ll take very good care I never see him again. Oh, Sam! -how could you? how could you keep it a secret all these years, when -I never bought as much as a yard of ribbon or a collar on the sly? I -can’t forgive it, or forget it either.’ - -She felt it very hard that Sam should not have trusted her. The loss -of the money was hard, and she could not help thinking what a large sum -it was, and what it might have done for Johnny. But the loss of faith -in her husband was ten times worse. How could she ever believe in him -again? or how could she ever be sure again that he really loved and -trusted her? - -It was a very miserable evening. Sam bewailed his money so bitterly -that Ann began to fancy he would rather have lost her or his child. She -sat silent and indignant, whilst he, unlike himself, was almost raving -with angry sorrow. She did not speak to him the next morning before -he set off to the yard, though she knew he had lain awake all night -like herself, and had not swallowed a morsel of breakfast. It was a -cold, wintry day, with a drizzling mist filling the air. Sam was wet -through before he reached his work, and there was no chance of drying -his clothes. He was wet through when he came home, but there were no -dry, warm things laid out for him. He might wait upon himself, thought -Ann; it would be well for him to see the difference between a good wife -and a bad one. He would not condescend to find a change of clothing for -himself, and he sat shivering on the hearth all night, in spite of the -warm, cheerful blaze of the bright fire. - -By the time the week was ended, Sam Franklin was compelled to knock -off work. Severe rheumatic fever had set in, and the doctor said he -must not expect to get back to the yard for three months or more. -Perhaps it was the best thing that could have befallen him, for it -brought back all the old warm love for him to his wife’s heart, which -had been grieved and estranged by his closeness and want of trust in -her. She nursed him tenderly, never saying a word to blame him now he -could not get out of her way, as many wives would have done. Before -his illness was half over she was forced to pawn all her own best -clothing, as well as his, to buy the mere necessaries of life. Never -had Sam Franklin thought his wife would have to go day after day to the -pawn-shop; but she did it so cheerfully that half of the sting of it -was taken away. - -‘Nancy,’ he said, one morning, ‘all night long I’ve had a text ringing -in my head, ‘You cannot serve God and mammon,’ ‘You cannot serve God -and mammon!’ Why, I used to think I was doing God a service when I put -on my Sunday clothes and went to church of a Sunday morning with you. -As if He’d think that were serving Him! And then all the week I was -worshipping that old waistcoat of mine hanging behind the door, as much -as any poor heathen worships blocks of wood and stone. I begin to think -it was God who put it in your heart to sell it to the old-clothesman. -But how can I serve Him now, Nancy, my girl? I can’t do anything save -lie in this bed and be a burden to you.’ - -Ann Franklin stooped down and kissed her husband, whispering, ‘I don’t -mind a bit about you being a burden, as you call it;’ and after that -she opened a Bible and read these words: ‘Then said they unto him, What -shall we do, that we may work the works of God? Jesus answered and said -unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom he hath -sent.’ - -‘Ay! I see it,’ he said, after a long pause, ‘that’s a work I can begin -better here, perhaps, than in the yard at my work. I can work for God -that way, lying here on my back as helpless as a baby. And now I come -to think of it, Jesus Christ never served mammon anyway, and if I -believe in Him I shall try to be like Him. It’s no use praying to God -on Sundays and doing contrary all the week, wailing after money and -such like.’ - -‘Sam,’ answered his wife, ‘I’ve not been believing in him as I ought, -for I’ve been fretting after that old waistcoat ever so, thinking how -useful the money would be now; but if you’ll help me I’ll help you, and -we’ll try to believe in Him just the same as if we could see him coming -into the room and talking to us.’ - -‘But that would be seeing, not believing.’ - -‘So it would,’ she answered, ‘and he said himself, “Blessed are they -that have not seen, and yet have believed.” We must trust in Him -without seeing Him.’ - -But it was a hard trial to trust in God whilst all their possessions -were disappearing one after another. Sam was a long while in fully -recovering his strength; and when he was fit to go back to the yard -they were pretty deeply in debt. Yet never had they been so happy -in former days. Their simple faith in the Saviour gave them a peace -different from anything they had ever felt before; and Sam, who had -now no secret care or pleasure to brood over in his own mind, grew -frank and open with his wife. They pinched and denied themselves to -get out of debt; and when the next winter came they were again in the -comfortable circumstances which had been theirs when Ann sold the -valuable old waistcoat. - -‘Sam,’ said Ann, a day or two before Christmas-day, ‘Johnny’s been -putting threepence a week into the school club. He’s got as much as -nine shillings in, and he’s to have twopence a shilling added to it if -we buy him clothes with it, but we can have the nine shillings out if -we like. Come home in time to go with us to the school to-night.’ - -‘Ay, ay!’ said Sam, heartily, ‘I’ll go with Johnny to get his little -fortune.’ - -It was quite dark in the evening when the three started off for the -school where the weekly pence were paid in. But as they locked their -parlour-door and turned into the street, they saw a girl about Johnny’s -age, with bare feet and no bonnet on her head, standing on the outer -door-sill, shivering and crying, as she looked at the dismal night, -with flakes of snow drifting lazily in the air. They all knew her well; -she was the little girl belonging to the tenant of the attic two floors -above them. Ann had often given fragments of bread and meat to Johnny -to take to her, but she had always shrunk from inviting her into their -parlour, because she was too dirty and ragged. Now, as the child stood -crying and shivering on the door-step, her heart smote her for her want -of kindness, and she stopped to speak to her gently. - -‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. - -‘Father says I must go and beg,’ she answered, crying more bitterly, -‘and I’m frightened, and it’s so bitter cold. But we must pay our rent, -he says, or be turned out, and he doesn’t know where to go to, and is -very ill, coughin’ ever so. We owe for three weeks now, that’s nine -shillings, and I don’t know where I’m to beg for nine shillings.’ - -‘There’s all the coppers I’ve got,’ said Sam putting three or four -pence in her hand, and hurrying on with Ann and Johnny, whilst the -girl pattered after them, with her bare feet tingling in the snow. Ann -did not speak again till they reached the school, but once or twice -she looked back and saw the little ragged figure following them. There -was no one in the school room except themselves and the gentleman who -was ready to receive their payment and give them the ticket for buying -clothes to the value of ten shillings and sixpence. But before he could -write out the ticket Ann glanced round, and saw a thin, care-worn -little face peering in through the window. - -‘Oh, Sam,’ she cried, ‘we don’t want it so badly after all, and I think -if it belonged to Him, Jesus Christ, he would give it to the poor man -up in the attic to pay his rent with. Don’t you think he would?’ - -‘But it’s Johnny’s little fortune,’ said Sam, ‘and we should lose one -and sixpence if we took it out for that.’ - -‘Johnny ’ud be glad to give it to poor little Bell?’ asked Ann, with -her hand on the boy’s shoulder. - -‘Yes, mother, for little Bell,’ he said readily. - -‘Johnny’s clothes are warm, if they’re shabby,’ pursued Ann, ‘and -there’s that poor little creature in rags, and barefoot. My heart aches -for her, Sam. If it were our boy, and they’d nine shillings they didn’t -want badly, what should we like them to do?’ - -‘Well, Ann, I give up,’ he said; ‘after all, it’s your savings, not -mine.’ - -Still he was not quite satisfied about it. That man in the attic was -very probably a drunken vagabond, and deserved to be turned out for not -paying his rent. To be sure he had been a tenant nearly a year, and had -been quiet enough, meddling with nobody, and not putting himself in -anybody’s way. Sam had not seen him above two or three times, and then -he had only just caught sight of a thin, stooping figure, with a shabby -old coat buttoned up to the throat, as if the man had no shirt to wear. -Anyhow it was Ann’s business, and if any wife deserved to have her own -way in a thing like this, it was his wife. - -Ann picked up the money, which was counted out to her, with a pleasant -smile upon her face. It was snowing very fast when they opened the -school-room door; but there was little Bell still, with her face -pressed against the window and one foot drawn up out of the snow to -keep it warmer. Ann called to her, and she ran quickly towards them. - -‘I prayed to God for the money this morning,’ she said, looking -wistfully up into Ann’s smiling face, ‘but He couldn’t have heard me, -for He never sent it.’ - -‘He’s going to send it now,’ answered Ann. - -‘Will an angel come with it?’ she asked. - -‘Ay!’ answered Sam, stooping down and lifting the child in his arms, -for he was quite strong again, and she was too thin and puny to be much -weight. He did not like to see her bare feet on the snow, and if Ann -was going to do them a good turn, why should he not do another? - -‘An angel with shining, white clothes on, and wings?’ said little Bell. - -‘No; she’s wearing an old bonnet and a faded shawl,’ answered Sam, ‘and -her wings aren’t grown yet, I’m glad to say.’ - -‘For shame, Sam!’ cried his wife; but she was glad to hear from his -voice that he was agreeing heartily with her self-denial. It was not -far back to their home, but instead of turning into their own pleasant -room they all marched up two flights of stairs to the attic. - -It was a low room with a shelving roof, and lighted by a skylight, of -which two or three of the panes were broken, and a few stray snowflakes -were floating in, and hardly melting in the chilly air. There was an -old rusty stove instead of a fireplace, but no fire in it; and in one -corner lay a hard mattress, on which they could see in the dim light -the figure of a man, barely covered with a few clothes. As he lifted -up his head to speak to them a racking cough choked him, and it was a -minute or two before he could utter a word. - -‘We’ve been your neighbours a long while,’ said Ann, gently, ‘and I’m -ashamed I never came to see you before. We’ve brought little Bell home, -for it’s a dreadful night out of doors, not fit for a grown-up person, -scarcely.’ - -‘But the landlord says he’ll turn us out to-morrow,’ gasped the sick -man. - -‘No! no!’ answered Ann; ‘that’s all right. We’ve got the money ready -for him, and now we’ll make you as comfortable as we can. Sam run down -and bring me a light, that’s a good fellow.’ - -‘I’m not going to live long,’ said the stranger, ‘and I’m afraid of -being turned out, but I can never pay you back again. There’s no more -work in me, and my money’s done; I can’t pay you.’ - -‘Never mind,’ she answered, ‘we’re only doing as we’d be done by, so -don’t you worry about it. Here’s Sam coming with a candle; and now I’ll -put your bed straight.’ - -But when the light was brought in, and Ann looked down at the poor -covering on the mattress, she uttered a little scream of amazement, and -sank down on a box beside the bed of the sick man. Sam himself stood as -still as a stone, staring, as she did, at the clothes which lay across -the bed. There was his old wedding waistcoat; he knew it by a patch -which Ann had put into it very carefully. Was it possible that the -nine five-pound notes were still safely hidden in the lining? - -‘That’s an old waistcoat of mine,’ he said, as soon as he could speak; -‘I never thought to see it again.’ - -‘I bought it soon after I came here,’ answered the attic tenant; -‘an old-clothesman offered it for a shilling. It’s been a good warm -waistcoat; but I’ve worn it for the last time.’ - -‘I’ll give you a couple of blankets for it,’ said Sam, eagerly. ‘My -wife sold it without asking me, and it was my wedding waistcoat, you -see. I didn’t want to part with it.’ - -‘Take it, and welcome, without any blankets,’ he answered; ‘you’ve done -enough for me already.’ - -‘No,’ said Ann, ‘I’ll bring the blankets.’ - -She was trembling with excitement, but she would not leave the poor man -until she had stopped up the broken panes, made the bed comfortable, -and wrapped him well up in some warm blankets. Then she went down to -their own room, and found Sam waiting for her before opening the seam -in the lining of the waistcoat. Even his hand shook, but he managed -to unpick a few stitches, and draw out a crumpled bit of paper. Yes; -they were all there, the nine five-pound notes he had never expected to -touch again. - -‘Oh, Sam!’ she cried, with tears in her eyes, ‘do you think you will -love them again?’ - -For a few minutes he sat still, looking earnestly at the notes, with -a strange expression of fear upon his face. He compared the peace and -happiness of the last few months with the heavy burden his secret had -been to him. He thought of how he had begun to learn to think of God -when he awoke in the morning, and when he was falling asleep at night. -If he kept the money, would it be the same? Yet would it be right to -throw away what God might intend them to keep as a provision against -some time of need? Perhaps God saw the time was come when he might be -trusted with money again. - -‘Ann,’ he said, ‘If I thought these notes would tempt me to serve -mammon again, I’d throw them all on to the fire yonder. You take charge -of them, my lass, and put them into the Post-Office Savings-bank, that -was opened a few months ago. Thank God I lost them, and thank God I’ve -found them again.’ - -For the next few weeks Sam Franklin and his wife nursed and tended the -dying man in the attic as tenderly as if he had been their brother, -teaching him what Sam had learned himself, that even on a sick bed he -might work the works of God, by believing on Jesus Christ, whom he hath -sent. When he died, blessing them for their brotherly love to him, they -took charge of little Bell, and no doubt spent as much upon her as the -money laid by in the savings-bank. But she grew up like a daughter to -them; and not long ago she became their daughter by marrying Johnny -Franklin. The wedding took place a day or two before Christmas, the -anniversary of the day when Johnny readily gave up his small fortune -for little Bell. - -‘Oh, Sam!’ said his wife, as she thought of it, ‘how would it have been -if we’d kept the nine shillings to buy clothes for Johnny?’ - -‘We should have kept the nine shillings and lost the forty-five -pounds,’ answered Sam. ‘It’s true, “He that hath pity upon the poor -lendeth unto the Lord; and that which he hath given will he pay him -again.”’ - -‘Yes, but it’s more than that,’ said Ann; ‘we’d a chance of doing -something like Jesus Christ would have done in our place, and we did -it. That was the best of all.’ - - -[Illustration: She saw the stranger produce a pistol. - - _See page 46._] - - - - -A MISERABLE CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR. - - -If you had asked any of the poor people of Ilverton who was the -prettiest and best girl in the town, they would, one and all, have -answered promptly, ‘Dr. Layard’s daughter.’ There was scarcely a -poor man or woman, who did not know the way to Dr. Layard’s surgery, -where he gave advice gratis to all who could not really afford to pay -for it. And there was scarcely one who did not know the look of Dr. -Layard’s bright, comfortable, old-fashioned kitchen, and the pleasant, -tender smile on Kate Layard’s face, as she listened pityingly to their -sad stories, and sent them away home with happier hearts and lighter -spirits. - -If it had not been for her poor people, as she called them, Kate -Layard’s life would have been utterly dull and idle. She had no -household duties to see after; her aunt, who had taken the management -of all such matters whilst she was still a little girl, would not brook -any interference with her rule; and preferred to have Kate sitting in -the drawing-room, idly busy over fancy work, or practising music to -which no one listened, and painting water-colour sketches, at which -no one looked. There were three boys younger than herself, but they -were all away, either at school or college; and the long days passed -by listlessly, for want of something to do that was really worth the -doing. But for her father’s poor patients, and he had a good many of -them, she would have felt her life to be quite lost. - -It was on a dull, dark day, near the end of November, with a thick -yellow fog pressing close against the windows, which prevented her from -going out, that she felt particularly disconsolate and weary. Aunt -Brooks was busy about the house, making arrangements for a thorough -cleaning down before Christmas; but she steadily refused Kate’s offers -of help. Secretly Aunt Brooks was fearful of Dr. Layard finding out -that Kate would make quite as good a housekeeper as herself; and she -shrank from the idea of going into some little lonely house of her own, -where she could have no more than one little maid to order about, and -no scope at all for her own powers. She did not think of Kate having -no scope for hers. If she had, it is quite possible that she would -have laid down her command, and heroically withdrawn to leave Kate her -proper post. - -‘I wish, something would happen to me!’ sighed Kate, on that dull -November morning. At the very moment a servant brought in a letter, -just delivered by the postman. Kate was not quite sure of the -handwriting; not quite sure. But all at once a vision of her father’s -surgery flashed across her mind, with a frank, noble, pleasant-looking -young man in her father’s place, giving advice and prescription, and -good-tempered, cheery words to her poor people. It was Philip Carey, -her father’s assistant, who had left them some months ago. It seemed to -Kate that she had never been dull while he was there. Yes! the letter -was from Philip Carey; it bore his name. A bright colour flushed up -in Kate’s face. If there had been any one in the room, she would have -carried it away to read it in solitude, although she did not yet know -a single word in it. But she was quite alone, and no one could see the -colour in her cheeks, or the ready tears that sprang into her eyes, and -made the lines look dim. - -‘I used to fancy sometimes,’ said Philip Carey, ‘that I might win your -love; but I never dared to be sure of it. I was too poor then, and my -future was too uncertain, for me to say how dearly I loved you. But -now I am appointed the assistant physician at Lentford Hospital, I -think your father would be satisfied with my prospects. I do not write -to him but to you. If there is any hope for me, if you can trust your -whole happiness to me, write but the one word “Come,” and I will come -over immediately after my official appointment on the 30th, and speak -to Dr. Layard. If you do not write, I shall understand your silence.’ - -Kate sat, with the letter crushed between her hands, gazing blissfully -into the fire. All the world was changed, quite suddenly. The day was -no longer dull and dreary. It seemed almost too good to be true. Philip -Carey was the very man to be a physician in the Lentford Hospital; he -was so gentle and considerate with the poor, and so skilful as well. -She recollected how all her poor people had bewailed and mourned after -him when he went away; and what a pang it had often been to her, a pang -yet a pleasure, to hear his name so often on their lips. Oh! how good -she must be to make herself good enough for him! She must be the best -doctor’s wife in all Lentford. - -With very unsteady fingers she wrote the one word ‘Come’ as Philip had -suggested; and then it occurred to her that she might catch the morning -post, and he would receive her answer before night. She directed the -envelope in haste, and ran out herself with it across the square; -dropping it into the letter-box with her own hands, and looking after -it, as one does sometimes when the letter is a very important one. - -Kate kept her precious secret to herself. Aunt Brooks was in a rather -testy temper, and it was not easy to begin such a confidential -disclosure to her. Dr. Layard was out all day, and only came in late at -night, worn out and exhausted. Kate rather rejoiced in the secret being -a secret. Everybody would know quite soon enough; for her letter had -reached her on the 28th, and Philip was sure to come over on the 30th, -for Lentford was only ten miles away, and he could ride to Ilverton as -soon as his official appointment was confirmed. - -Yet it seemed a long time before the 30th came. Towards the close of -the day Kate grew more agitated in her secret gladness. Philip might -come in at any hour; he knew they dined at six, and Kate was fully -prepared to see him arrive then. But he did not appear; and the dinner -passed very nearly in silence, for Kate was unable to talk, and Dr. -Layard was tired with his day’s work. - -‘Do you know, Kate,’ he said suddenly, ‘young Carey is appointed -assistant physician at Lentford Hospital? It’s a splendid opening for -so young a man. But he’s a fine fellow is Carey; I shall be more than -content if one of my boys turns out like him. Ah! Katie, Katie, you -should have set your cap at him when he was here; you’ll never have -such a chance again.’ - -The colour mounted to her forehead, and a smile played about her lips, -ready to break into a happy laugh. If Philip would but come in now! - -‘Don’t put such notions into Kate’s head,’ said Aunt Brooks, precisely; -‘no well behaved young lady would think of setting her cap at any one.’ - -It was a restless evening for Kate. One hour after another passed -by, and still he did not come. She went to the window, and opened it -impatiently. She began to wonder if he meant to come in by the last -train, and stay all night. But what would Aunt Brooks say? And what -a strange hour it would be to begin to talk to her father about such -a subject! She fancied it would take a very long time to introduce -it, and afterwards to discuss it. But at half-past eleven Kate was -compelled to give up expecting him and go to bed, when the fever of her -new happiness having calmed a little, she slept profoundly, and dreamed -of no trouble. - -But again there followed a morning and evening of expectation, dogged -hour after hour by a strengthening disappointment. Kate sat moping over -the fire, as Aunt Brooks said, trying to find reasons for Philip’s -absence and silence. The crumpled letter had been carefully smoothed -out again, and she read it till she knew every word by heart. But the -pride and gladness died as her heart grew sick with the sickness of -hope deferred. The brief sunshine at last faded quite out of her life, -and left her in deeper darkness than before. She waited and trusted -till she could wait and trust no longer; and then she gave herself up -to the full sense of her bitter mortification and sorrow. - -There was no one to notice the change except her father, who was too -busy to bestow more than a passing thought or two to her melancholy -face and fading colour. Her happiness, like Jonah’s gourd, had sprung -up in a night and perished in a night; and like him she was ready to -exclaim, ‘It is better for me to die than to live.’ - -Christmas was near at hand before Kate recovered at all from her -overwhelming sense of wretchedness and mortification. She was a pitiful -and tender-hearted girl, fond of giving pleasure to others; and she -began to feel as if it was necessary for her own relief to make this -miserable Christmas a time of pleasure and festivity to some of her -poorer neighbours. If she could not see happiness with her own eyes, -she would like to look at it through other people’s. It was impossible -to remove the heaviness of her heart, but she might try to lighten -others’. So one evening when she and her father were alone together, -she approached the subject cautiously. - -‘Father,’ she said, ‘I want to make somebody in the world happier.’ - -Her voice was unconsciously very sorrowful. The burden that was -oppressing her had made her feel that other people had heavy burdens -to bear. She was learning that, in order to bear her own well, it was -necessary to share that of another. Dr. Layard was distressed by the -mournfulness of his daughter’s tone. - -‘Make somebody happier!’ he repeated; ‘well, it is easy enough to do -that.’ - -‘How?’ asked Kate. - -‘Help them,’ answered Dr. Layard; ‘a little help is worth a deal of -pity. Helping people is a good step towards making them and yourself -happy.’ - -‘That is what I want to do,’ said Kate, eagerly. ‘I want you to manage -so that I can have some of your poor patients to tea here, in the large -kitchen, on Christmas Day; it would make them a little bit happier, I -think. I don’t know that it would do much good, but they would enjoy -it, wouldn’t they, father?’ - -‘It would do them good, Kate,’ said Dr. Layard; ‘making people happy -sometimes goes before making them good. In the hospital at times we -make our patients as happy as they can be before the sharp operation; -sometimes the sharp operation has to come first. We’ll try the merry -Christmas for them this year, and then you must do what you can for -them afterwards.’ - -Aunt Brooks, somewhat unexpectedly, gave a very gracious assent to -Dr. Layard’s proposal, on condition that Kate took all the trouble of -preparing for the guests, and entertaining them when they came. It made -her busy enough for two or three days, and she tried to throw all her -sad heart into it. - -‘Kate,’ said Dr. Layard, on Christmas Eve, ‘we have forgotten one of -our old favourites, who has not been here for months. You recollect old -Mrs. Duffy, who used to go about with a basket of bobbins and tapes? Of -all my poor patients, she ought to be present at your _soirée_.’ - -Dr. Layard persisted in calling the intended tea-party Kate’s _soirée_, -and had taken an unusual interest in it. She was feeling more sorrowful -than ever, this Christmas Eve, when everybody seemed so absurdly gay. -She was wearing her dowdiest dress; and she found it difficult to get -up a smile when her father spoke of the _soirée_. How different it -would have been if Philip Carey had been true to her! - -‘Can I find Mrs. Duffy this evening?’ she asked, willing to escape -from her sad thoughts for a little time. - -‘Easily,’ said Dr. Layard; ‘she lives in Wright’s Court, out of New -Street, the last house but two on your left hand, I think. Anybody -would tell you where it is. If you are frightened, take Bob with you.’ - -It was a dark night when Kate started out, without Bob, for she was not -frightened; she was too miserable to be frightened. The passing relief -she had felt in making her arrangements for her Christmas tea-party -was spent, and the universal merriment only served to deepen her own -loneliness and disappointment. The streets were full and noisy, but -not disorderly. The church bells were ringing in anticipation of -the coming day, and a general holiday tone was diffused through the -crowd, though business was going on briskly. Groups of little children -were gathering round the brilliant shop-windows, choosing impossible -Christmas presents for themselves and each other from the magnificent -display within, and laughing with pathetic mirth at their own daring -dreams. Kate caught herself wondering if she should ever laugh at her -own vanished dream. - -Wright’s Court was not a good specimen of street architecture and -paving. The houses were as low as they could be to boast of two -stories, and the pavement was eccentric, making it necessary to take -each step with great caution. An open gutter ran down the middle, and -through the passage which formed the entrance; a passage four feet -wide and twenty feet long, dimly lighted by one lamp in the street, -which shone behind Kate as she walked up it, and threw her shadow -bewilderingly before her. The court itself had no light but that which -came through the uncurtained windows of the dwellings on each side, -through which she caught glimpses of startling phases of English life, -before she reached Mrs. Duffy’s door, where she stood a minute or two -in the dark, looking through the small panes of the casement close -beside it. - -It was a very little kitchen, but quite large enough for the furniture -it contained. There was an old box under the window, and one shelf -against the wall, holding all Mrs. Duffy’s china and plate. The only -chair, and a tiny table standing on three thick legs, were drawn up -to the fireplace, in which a few coals were burning. Two old tin -candlesticks and a flat-iron adorned the chimneypiece, and Kate saw, -with a slight prick of her conscience, for she had not cared to -decorate the house at home, that a bit of holly had been stuck into -each candlestick, as well as into every other pane of the little -window. Mrs. Duffy herself was seated in the chair, apparently amusing -herself with a pantomime of taking tea, for there was a black teapot -and a cracked cup and saucer on the table, but there was no food upon -it, and when she held the teapot almost perpendicularly only a few -drops fell from the spout. She put it down, and looked placidly into -the embers, shaking her head a little from time to time, but gently, -as if more in remembrance of the past than in reproach of the present. -She was a clean, fresh-looking old woman, with no teeth, and her cheeks -formed a little ball, like a withered rosy apple, between her hollow -eyes and sunken mouth. - -‘The Lord love you, my dear,’ said Mrs. Duffy, when Kate went in, and -delivered her message, ‘and the good doctor, too. It isn’t everybody as -has such friends as me--on a Christmas Eve, too, when a body feels so -lonesome wi’out friends. I don’t mind so much on working days, my dear, -but one wants friends of a holiday like-Christmas. One can work wi’out -friends; but one can’t love wi’out friends.’ - -‘No, indeed!’ said Kate, with a profound sigh. - -‘And I’ve got such good friends!’ continued Mrs. Duffy, triumphantly; -‘there’s one as gave me sixpence, and another threepence, and another -twopence, only this morning. That came up to elevenpence; so I’ve -bought my Christmas joint, just like other folks, you know. You’d maybe -like to see my Christmas joint like other folks, shouldn’t you, my -dear?’ - -‘I should very much,’ answered Kate. - -The Christmas joint was evidently a very precious possession, for it -had been laid carefully between a plate and a basin, and these were -well tied up in a ragged cloth, and put out of the way of any marauding -cat. Kate’s eyebrows went up a good deal, and her eyelids smarted a -little as if with coming tears, when she saw it. It was a morsel of -coarse beef, which would not have covered the old woman’s hand, but -which she regarded with unconcealed satisfaction and delight. - -‘That cost sevenpence,’ she said, ‘and I bought two pennyworth of -greens, and a twopenny loaf to eat with it--me and a friend of mine, -as is coming to dine with me. It’s a very poor lame girl as lives down -the court; very poor, indeed, so I asked her to come and help to eat -my Christmas joint, which is exceedingly pleasant to me. The neighbour -next door has promised to lend me a chair; we’re all so friendly one -with another.’ - -‘Then if you have a visitor you must bring her with you to tea,’ -said Kate, ‘and any children you have. Haven’t you got any sons or -daughters? You’d enjoy yourself more with them there.’ - -‘Bless your kind heart all the same,’ answered Mrs. Duffy, her cheerful -face overcast for a moment; ‘I never had more than one bonny boy, and -he went off to Australy nigh upon thirty years ago. My Johnny he was. -Sometimes I think as I shall never see him again. I was thinking of him -when your knock came to the door. He was going on for twenty; and I -was a strong woman of forty then. I doubt whether Johnny ’ud know his -poor old mother again if he did come back.’ - -‘How long is it since you heard from him?’ enquired Kate. - -‘I never heard from him at all,’ said Mrs. Duffy, in a matter-of-course -tone; ‘he couldn’t write, and I couldn’t write. But he went to -Australy, and he is in Australy now, if he hasn’t tumbled off. I can’t -help thinking at times he must ha’ tumbled off, though the flies -never do tumble off the ceiling. I’ve watched ’em for hours and hours -together, thinking of my Johnny, and no fly never tumbled off yet. They -have to walk with their heads downwards in Australy, like them flies; -but my Johnny wasn’t brought up to it, and I’m afeard for him at times.’ - -‘Oh, no, he couldn’t tumble off,’ said Kate, laughing a little; ‘but -are you sure you would know him yourself, Mrs. Duffy, after thirty -years?’ - -‘Can a mother forget her own boy?’ asked the old woman; ‘ay, ay; I -should know my Johnny among a thousand, or tens of thousands. I’ll be -glad to bring my friend with me to-morrow, and many thanks to you for -asking her. I’ve got to go out into the country to sing a carril or two -at a farm-house, where they’re always very good to me; but that’ll be -afore dinner; and we’ll come punctual to your house at five o’clock, -me and my friend; and a merry Christmas and a happy New Year to every -one of us, and you above all, my dear.’ - -‘A miserable Christmas, and an unhappy New Year it will be for me,’ -thought Kate; but she did not say it. Mrs. Duffy insisted upon lighting -her down the court with her only candle, which guttered and wasted -terribly in the night wind; and the last glance she had of the kindly, -withered old face was lit up by its flickering flame at the entrance of -the dark passage. - -Very early in the morning, long before the Christmas sun was ready -to show itself, Mrs. Duffy roused up to the fact that if she was to -sing a ‘carril’ a mile and a half away in the country, it was time to -set out. Even her hard heap of rags and straw, with the thin, scanty -blanket she had been shivering under all night, were more attractive to -her at seventy years of age than the long, lonely walk, through lanes -deep down between high hedgerows, with cartruts filled with mingled -mud and ice. But she was of a brave and grateful heart, and after a -short prayer for herself and everybody, uttered before quitting the -feeble warmth of her bed, she sallied out into the chill frostiness of -the coming dawn. Up and down the street she heard the shrill voices of -children chanting some Christmas ditty; and she thought of Johnny when -he was a boy, with his yellow hair, and round, red face, turning out -all eagerness and hope on a Christmas morning, and singing in a voice -which could not fail to rouse the most determined sleeper. - -‘He came home once with three shillings and twopence halfpenny, all -in ha’pence,’ thought Mrs. Duffy, wiping away a tear from the sunken -corner of her eye. - -It was a wearisome walk to the farm-house; but as soon as she had -reached the porch, and lifting up her quavering voice, began, ‘God rest -you, merry gentlefolk, Let nothing you dismay,’ the door was flung open -quickly, and she was called in, and set before such a breakfast as she -had not seen for years. Poor old Mrs. Duffy’s heart was very full, and -before she could swallow a morsel, she said in a slow and tremulous -voice: ‘I can’t think what’s come to folks this year. It’s like them -blessed Christmases we shall have when everybody’s friends, when the -lion is friends with the lamb, and the cockatrices with the babies. -Here’s Dr. Layard’s daughter asked me to tea, and I’ve got a Christmas -joint, and now there’s such a breakfast as I never see before, and me -done nothing for it. I can’t think what’s come to folks; but it’s a -blessed Christmas, it is.’ - -‘You’ll sing your carol for us better after breakfast,’ said the -farmer’s wife, ‘and my husband’s father has given me a shilling for -you.’ - -Mrs. Duffy shed a few very blissful tears, and after breakfast sang two -or three carols, with as much zeal and energy as though they were sure -to bring down many blessings on the hospitable roof. It was a little -after nine o’clock when she left the house; but there was the Christmas -dinner to cook, and it was necessary to go home early for that. She -bade them good-by, and took her way joyously across the fields lying in -winter-fallow, through which there was a nearer way back to the town. - -Mrs. Duffy was just turning out of the fields into the high road, when -a man suddenly started up from behind the hedge, and laid his hand -roughly on her shoulder. He was a big, heavy-looking fellow, in the -ordinary dress of a labourer; and he seemed, even at that early hour, -to be half stupefied with drink. She looked into his coarse face, with -a feeling of terror which was new to her. - -‘I want a shilling off you,’ he said, fiercely. - -‘A shilling!’ she cried, ‘where should a poor woman like me have a -shilling from?’ - -‘Haven’t you got a shilling?’ he demanded. - -Poor Mrs. Duffy had prided herself all her life on never having told -a lie. She looked up and down the road, but there was not a creature -in sight; and she glanced again hopelessly into the man’s savage and -stupid face. What should she do? To part with the shilling just given -to her would be a very great loss; and she knew it would only be spent -in the nearest public-house. Should she be doing very wrong to deny -having one? It was the first time for years that she had had a whole -silver shilling about her; and any moment during that time she could -have replied ‘No’ boldly and truthfully. Might she not say ‘No’ just -this once? - -‘Haven’t you got a shilling?’ he repeated, shaking her shoulder roughly. - -‘Well,’ she said, feebly, ‘I haven’t had a shilling ever so long; but I -have got one now. I’m a very poor old woman, my good young man. If I’d -got a penny, I’d give it you, and welcome.’ - -‘I must have your shilling,’ he said, doggedly. - -‘I can’t give it you, indeed,’ she answered; ‘there’s my rent, and -coals, and other things; and I’m very poor. You’d only drink it.’ - -She had scarcely finished speaking, when she saw the stranger produce a -pistol from under his jacket, and point it at her. There was a sudden -flash before her eyes, and she felt a keen pain; then she fell down -without feeling or consciousness under the hedge-bank on the high road. -A few minutes later, Dr. Layard’s brougham was stopping at a toll-gate -just outside the town, when a labouring man, who was striding swiftly -past, spoke a few words to the driver. Dr. Layard was inside, with -Kate, who was going out with him to see her godfather, a clergyman in -the next parish. The doctor, having finished what he had to say to the -gatekeeper, inquired what the labourer had said in passing. - -‘He says there’s a woman up the road, who’s been shot, sir,’ answered -the servant, ‘and he says to me, “Look sharp after her, she’s an old -woman, and very poor.”’ - -‘Shot!’ exclaimed Dr. Layard; ‘drive on then, quickly. Katie, don’t be -frightened. Gate, look after that fellow who has just gone through.’ - -The last order was shouted through the window, as the carriage rolled -rapidly away. In a few minutes they gained the spot where the old -woman was lying as one dead, under the leafless hedge, with the blood -staining the thin shawl which was wrapped about her. Her old wrinkled -face had lost all its apple-red, and her grey hair, scanty and short, -had fallen down from under her white cap. Both Dr. Layard and Katie -exclaimed in one breath, ‘Mrs. Duffy!’ - -Kate was not wanting in nerve, though she felt a little shaken, and -exceedingly troubled. She left the carriage, and sat down on the bank, -supporting Mrs. Duffy in her arms, while Dr. Layard made a brief -examination of the wounds in the poor old neck and shoulder. His -expression was very grave, and he stood for a few moments deliberating -silently, with his eyes fastened upon the deathlike face of Mrs. Duffy, -and the pretty, anxious face of his daughter. - -‘Is it dangerous?’ asked Kate, falteringly. - -‘Almost fatal,’ he answered; ‘within a touch of death. There’s one -chance. I’m thinking of driving straight to Lentford Hospital. It’s a -good level road all the way, and the hospital is at this end of the -town. If you get into the brougham first, I can lift the old woman, and -place her in an easy posture against you. Could you hold her pretty -much as you are now for an hour or more? I’d do it myself; but you -could not lift her in as I shall do. Are you strong enough?’ - -‘I will be strong enough; I will do it,’ said Kate, lifting up her head -with determination and endurance in every line of her face. - -It did not occur to Dr. Layard that his carriage was a new one, -handsomely lined and fitted up; but the servant’s soul ran more upon -such subjects, and he began to protest against lifting the wounded -and bleeding woman into it. Such a very miserable old creature, too, -thought Bob, not a bit of a lady. - -‘Dolt! idiot! brute!’ ejaculated Dr. Layard, in high wrath; and Bob, -who had only uttered half his protest, shut his mouth, and was silent. - -It seemed a very long time to Kate, though the carriage bowled rapidly -along the smooth, straight old Roman road. Poor Mrs. Duffy gave no -sign of life, but lay against her heavily, with her grey head resting -upon Kate’s shoulder. She held her as tenderly as she could, now and -then clasping her warm fingers about her wrist, which was knotted and -brown with age and hard work, but which gave no throb back to Kate’s -touch. Dr. Layard, who rode outside with Bob, looked round from time -to time, nodding to her, but with so grave a face that she felt the -case was very serious. She thanked God fervently when the spires of -Lentford came in sight, and the last notes of the morning chimes fell -upon her ear. There were streams of people going to church, exchanging -cheery salutations with one another; but many a person caught a glimpse -of Kate’s pale and agitated face, and the grey head lying against her -neck, and felt a shadow pass over their own Christmas gladness. - -Dr. Layard’s carriage drove into the courtyard of the hospital, -and then Kate was quickly relieved of her burden. Mrs. Duffy was -carried away, and Dr. Layard followed her. Kate sat there, anxious -and troubled, while the clock in the nearest church tower struck one -quarter after another, and Bob drove up and down at a snail’s pace -in dreary and monotonous turns. At length some one beckoned to him -from the hospital portico, and Bob responded with an alacrity which -betrayed his impatience. Kate only saw at the last moment that it -was Dr. Carey, not her father, who had summoned him; and she shrank -back, breathless and tremulous, into the corner of the carriage which -concealed her best from him. - -‘Bob, your master says you must drive home,’ said Dr. Carey; ‘he will -return by train in the afternoon.’ - -‘And the old woman, sir?’ said Bob, ‘how’s she going on?’ - -‘Very little hope,’ answered Philip Carey, whose face Kate could not -see, but whose voice made every nerve thrill. - -‘Is it murder?’ asked Bob, who had known Dr. Carey as his master’s -assistant, and stood on very little ceremony with him. - -‘I’m afraid so,’ he said; ‘how are they all at home, Bob? Miss Brooks -and Miss Kate?’ - -‘She’s in there,’ said Bob, pointing with his thumb to the carriage. -Kate roused herself to lift up her head with dignity, sit erect upon -her seat, and meet Dr. Carey’s salutation calmly. It was nearly four -weeks since he had written to her, and she had replied, ‘Come.’ He -looked at her with an amazed and confused expression, and took off his -hat, but did not attempt to speak. Both of them coloured, and both -bowed stiffly and in silence. Then Philip Carey, still bareheaded, and -as if lost in thought, walked slowly back up the broad steps of the -portico, and Kate cried most of the way home. - -‘I never saw anything like that,’ thought Bob; ‘and they used to be -like brother and sister, almost.’ - -It was late in the afternoon when Dr. Layard returned, and then he -had to see the superintendent of police. The stranger who had passed -through the toll-gate had not yet been found; but he could not be -far off, and Bob was ready to swear to him when he was taken. Kate’s -Christmas party passed off more successfully because one of the invited -guests had been almost murdered on the highway. The news ran like -wildfire through the town and neighbourhood, and the farmer’s wife came -to tell of Mrs. Duffy’s morning visit, and her cheerful carols just -before the villain met her. She and Kate mingled their tears together -over the recital, and Kate ended her miserable Christmas by going to -bed with a very heavy heart. - -The next day the stranger was found and sworn to by Bob, though he -flatly denied having been anywhere in the direction of the toll-bar. -Neither Dr. Layard nor the toll-man could swear to him, as he had -passed on the farther side of the carriage while they were talking -at the other window. He was an utter stranger in the neighbourhood, -without friends, and he stated that he was on the tramp. A very old -pistol was found in a ditch near the spot where Mrs. Duffy had been -shot. The man was sent in safe custody to Lentford, to be brought face -to face with the old woman, if she should recover consciousness enough -to identify him and give her evidence against him. - -For twenty-four hours or more it continued very doubtful whether the -poor old creature would ever rally. She had not spoken since she had -been found, but she lay perfectly tranquil and patient on her hospital -bed. Now and then a gleam of a smile, like the momentary glimmer of the -sun on a cloudy day crossed her face, and her lips moved slightly, as -if she were whispering. She knew when they were doing anything for her, -for she tried to help herself, to raise her thin hand, or turn her grey -head upon the pillow for them to see her neck. Dr. Carey, who had known -her in former days, spent as much time as he could beside her bed; and -towards the close of the day, just before the night nurse was coming to -take her turn, he heard her voice speaking articulately but very slowly -and faintly, and he stooped over her to listen to what she said. - -‘Dr. Layard’s daughter! Dr. Layard’s daughter!’ she murmured. - -‘Would you like to see Dr. Layard’s daughter?’ asked Philip Carey, in -his clearest and most pleasant tone. - -‘Ay, ay,’ whispered the old woman. - -‘To-morrow you shall,’ he said; ‘it is too late now. To-morrow.’ - -‘Ay, ay,’ she assented, cheerfully. - -‘You will be better to-morrow,’ he suggested. - -‘No, no,’ murmured the old woman. ‘He shot me dead because I wouldn’t -give him my shilling. He robbed me.’ - -‘There’s a shilling wrapped up in a bit of blue sugar-paper in your -pocket,’ said Dr. Carey. A sparkle of satisfaction shone upon the poor -drawn face, and then Mrs. Duffy fell quietly asleep. - -She was certainly somewhat better in the morning, and watching the -people who were about her; her mind was clear, and she evidently knew -her circumstances, where she was, and what had happened to her. Before -noon Dr. Layard and Kate arrived; and Mrs. Duffy’s sunken blue eyes -brightened, yet filled with tears, as she looked up into their faces -bending pityingly above her. - -‘Well, old friend,’ said Dr. Layard, heartily, ‘you are better already. -We are going to pull you through, you’ll see, Carey and me. We know -what a tough old lady you are. Carey used to play you some tricks in -the old times, and now he’ll make it up to you by pulling you through. -Won’t you, Carey?’ - -Kate had not seen him enter the ward, and now she sat down, feeling -weak and tremulous, on a chair at Mrs. Duffy’s head, keeping her eyes -fixed upon the old woman’s face. Dr. Carey’s voice sounded oddly in her -ears, as if he was speaking in very loud and constrained tones. - -‘I am going to do my best,’ he said, ‘but you must keep yourself quite -still now, Mrs. Duffy, and get up your strength to tell the magistrate -your story. You are a brave old woman, and won’t be afraid; and I’ll -tell them you never told a lie in your life.’ - -Mrs. Duffy smiled, but did not speak. She had not spoken yet, but she -stretched out her hand, and tried to turn towards Kate. Dr. Carey -seemed to understand her meaning perfectly. - -‘You want Dr. Layard’s daughter to sit where you can see her?’ he said. -‘You want her to stay with you?’ - -‘Ay, ay,’ she answered. ‘God bless her!’ - -It was Philip Carey who moved Kate’s chair, and placed it in a -convenient position for old Mrs. Duffy to see her. She glanced at him -once, but his eyes were downcast, and his aspect very solemn. He bade -one of the nurses bring her a footstool, and then he and her father -went away, and old Mrs. Duffy, smiling now and then, closed her eyes -and seemed to fall into a doze. - -It was a very quiet hour for Kate. The ward was a small one, containing -only four beds, and no other patient in it. The nurses were busy, and -had all gone away, leaving her alone. A wintry sunshine was falling -through the farthest window upon the bare white walls. Her mind was -strangely divided between Mrs. Duffy and Philip Carey, whose life -was spent mostly within these walls. He had spoken so kindly, even -affectionately, to this poor, friendless old woman, but he had not -spoken a word to her. How was it that he could be so fickle, so cruel -towards her? What reason or motive could possibly have made him change -his mind so suddenly and so dishonourably, and plunge her into so much -wretchedness and perplexity? She could not bear to meet him, yet she -would have to bear it, for her father was so fond of him. How proud and -happy her father would have been in him as his son in-law! It was too -hard even to think of. Perhaps she would even have the misery some day -of seeing his wife, the girl who had supplanted her, and made her life -a blank. For Kate felt sure that it would be impossible for her ever -to love another man. No one else could be to her what Philip Carey had -been. - -The hour passed away, and there were several quiet signs of excitement. -Dr. Layard and Dr. Carey came in, felt the old woman’s pulse, and gave -her a cordial. Kate was told that if she could be calm she had better -remain where she was, as Mrs. Duffy held her hand closely, and wished -her to stay. Three or four strange gentlemen came in, and stood about -the bed, while Mrs. Duffy, in very feeble tones, told her story, which -was written down, word for word, from her lips. She had not much to -say, and it was soon over. - -‘Could you identify the individual?’ inquired the magistrate’s clerk. - -‘Should you know the man again?’ asked Dr. Carey, who was standing -close to Kate, and near old Mrs. Duffy. - -‘Ay, to be sure,’ she answered, with more energy than she had displayed -before. - -‘He has been taken;’ said Dr. Layard; ‘that is, a man has been taken -up, and we think he is the man. You must see him yourself.’ - -The old woman shuddered, and grasped Kate’s hand tightly. It might have -been Dr. Carey’s hand, for he seemed conscious of the close grasp, and -answered to it. - -‘Come, come,’ he said, encouragingly, ‘you never used to be a coward; -and you have only to open your eyes, and look at him. You have plenty -of friends about you, you know.’ - -‘He’s a dreadful man,’ she said, in a whisper, ‘but let him come.’ - -Kate herself felt a strong thrill of excitement, as she listened to -the regular tramp of the policeman, and the shambling tread of the -murderer, coming down the bare boards of the ward. The old woman had -closed her eyes, as if to gather strength for the dreadful detective -gaze. Dr. Carey laid his hand on the back of Kate’s chair, so close -to her it almost touched her shoulder, and one of her brown curls -fell upon it. The footsteps came on to the side of the bed, and -stopped there. Kate turned her head and took one frightened glance. -The murderer was a middle-aged man, with a full, heavy, red face, and -light hair just turning grey, not a vicious-looking man on the whole; -he might have been a decent, honest, creditable fellow, but for the -drinking habits which had brutalised him. He was looking down at the -wounded old woman with an air half sorrowful and half ashamed; but -a little sullen also, as a boy looks when caught in some fault. The -policeman at his right hand was the only sign to mark him out as a -criminal; and he seemed as much on the alert as if he expected him -to make a second murderous attack on the old woman in her bed. For a -minute or two all were silent in the room. Mrs. Duffy’s eyelids were -closed, and her lips moved as if in prayer. She looked up at last; and -her dim blue eyes, which were full of terror, like those of a child who -wakes frightened, changed like those of a child, when it sees that the -face bending over it is a familiar face. - -‘Why,’ she cried, in a voice at once firm and glad, ‘it’s my boy! It’s -my Johnny!’ - -Her wrinkled features began to work with emotion, and she was about -to raise herself up to stretch out her arms to him, but Dr. Carey was -quick enough to prevent her. He threw himself on his knees at Kate’s -feet, and laid his strong arm gently across the old woman. Every one -else stood motionless and thunderstruck. The man himself did not stir -hand or foot. - -‘That’s my son as went to Australy,’ continued Mrs. Duffy; ‘please -let him come and kiss me. Don’t you know your poor old mother again, -Johnny?’ - -‘Oh, mother! mother!’ exclaimed the man, striking his hard hands -together, ‘that’s my mother sir, as I came back to, and was looking -for. I hadn’t seen her these thirty years, and she’s nothing like the -woman she was. You’ll let me go and kiss her, maybe?’ - -He had spoken to the policeman next to him, and his official eye was -softened; but the magistrates were there, and the indulgence was not -his to grant. - -‘Is this the person who attempted first to rob and then to murder you?’ -asked the magistrate’s clerk. - -‘Oh, dear no! it’s my boy,’ said the old woman; ‘he’d never shoot -at his mother, bless you! It was quite a different man, not him; a -dreadful man. That’s the boy I nursed, and taught him his prayers. He’d -never lift up his hand agen me; please let him go.’ - -There was no question in Mrs. Duffy’s mind as to whether she was -telling the truth or not. Her gladness was so great that her mind -utterly refused the incredible and impossible idea that her own son -could have thought of robbing and murdering her. If he had been brought -before her red-handed with her blood, she would still have believed -herself mistaken. It was some ruffian and monster who had shot her, not -her son. As for him, his heavy, bloodshot eyes were filled with tears, -and his voice, as he began to speak, was choked and husky. - -‘Sir,’ he said, addressing no one in particular, ‘she’s not like the -same woman, but she’s my mother. She had brown hair, and was very -strong. I never thought of her being like that. I wish I’d kept free -from drink. Nobody knows what drink’ll bring him to. She’s my mother; -and I came back to work for her, if she were still alive. I’ll never -taste a drop again as long’s I live.’ - -‘Hush, hush!’ said Dr. Layard, coming behind him, and tapping him on -the shoulder; ‘hold your tongue, my good fellow. You’ll make your -mother worse again if you talk. There’s a good chance for her if she’s -kept quiet.’ - -The magistrates and their clerk walked away to the end of the ward, and -held a short consultation there. There was not much doubt that this man -was the right man; but there was no one to bring home the crime to him, -except his mother. Bob, Dr. Layard’s servant, swore positively that he -was the man who told him a woman was lying in the road murdered; but -the woman herself denied that it was he who had attacked her. To be -sure there was more than sufficient reason for her to do so, but if she -persisted in it, what was to be done? - -‘You must remember you are upon your oath,’ said the elder magistrate, -‘and probably upon your deathbed. Now look at this man carefully, and -tell me if he is not the man who shot at you.’ - -Mrs. Duffy gazed earnestly at her son, smiling more and more, until her -pale, shrunken face grew radiant with happiness. - -‘Why, it couldn’t be him,’ she said, ‘how could it? Ay, ay; I could -swear it were never him; my Johnny. Please let him stay aside of me for -a bit. The police may stop for him if you like; but he’d never do it.’ - -‘Carey and I will be bail for him, if it’s necessary,’ said Dr. -Layard, ‘only let the poor fellow shake hands with his mother. There, -let him go.’ - -The man seemed to slip suddenly from the policeman’s grasp, and -sunk down on his knees at his mother’s feet, hiding his face in the -bed-clothes, and sobbing till the bed shook under him. All the time his -mother’s eyes were shining upon him, and her arms, still kept firmly -down by Dr. Carey, were trembling to touch him. - -The magistrates and their retinue went their way, leaving Mrs. Duffy -with her son, while Kate and Philip Carey stood by, a little aloof -from them, and from each other. The man crept closer and closer to his -mother, till his hot and heavy face rested upon her hand. There was a -deep silence in the ward. Outside in the corridor, through the half -open door, could be seen the policeman, still waiting for final orders. - -‘Mother,’ sobbed out Duffy, in a smothered and faltering voice, ‘can -you forgive me?’ - -‘Why! there’s nothing to forgive, Johnny,’ she said, ‘and I’m so happy, -I’d forgive everybody. I’d forgive the raskill as shot me. I have -forgive him already, Johnny.’ - -‘I want you to get well, mother,’ he said, with desperate earnestness, -‘and I’ll make it all up to you. I’m come back to work for you, and -indeed, I’ll work. Will you forgive me, mother?’ - -‘Forgive you, Johnny!’ she murmured, ‘it’s a easy thing to forgive a -body when you love a body.’ - -The last words dropped faintly, syllable by syllable, from the old -woman’s white lips, and Kate’s heart sank like lead. The withered face -had grown paler, and the wrinkled eyelids closed slowly over the filmy -blue eyes. Kate uttered a low cry of trouble, and Philip Carey turned -quickly towards her. - -‘Is she going to die, Philip?’ asked Kate. - -‘She is very faint,’ he replied, ‘She has been too much excited, but -she may rally yet. Go and send me a nurse, and do not return yourself.’ - -Kate walked softly down the ward, the tears falling fast from her eyes. -She was no longer grieving over her own troubles, but for the hopeful, -cheery, brave old woman, who had met her long-lost son again in such -a manner, and at such a moment as this. She waited in the matron’s -parlour until a message was brought to her that Mrs. Duffy was sleeping -again, with her son watching and waiting beside her. Then she returned -home with her father. - -‘I’ve not the shadow of a doubt Duffy’s the man,’ shouted Dr. Layard -to her, above the noise of the train; ‘but the thing cannot be brought -home to him. The old woman is as true as truth itself, but she is -labouring under a delusion. She no more believes that her son was the -man who shot at her than I believe that you did it. I question whether -she would believe Duffy himself if he owned it to her, which he must -not do. I’ve told him so. I said, “Duffy, I feel pretty sure you are -the villain that did it, and if she dies I’ll do my best to prove it. -But never you tell your mother it was yourself; it would go far to -break her heart.” And he said, “I’ll never speak a word about it, one -way or the other, sir.” Oh! Duffy did it!’ - -‘Do you think she will die?’ asked Kate. - -‘Carey will do his best for her,’ said Dr. Layard; ‘I never saw such -a change in a young fellow as there is in Carey. He is as dull as a -beetle; just when he has got all he has been striving for, too! I don’t -understand it.’ - -Kate believed she understood it, but she kept silence. It was not -likely he could feel happy and at ease in her presence or her father’s -if he had a spark of feeling; and he certainly possessed a good deal of -feeling. She had caught his eye once during the strange interview round -Mrs. Duffy’s bed, and they had looked at one another with a sympathy -which had seemed at the moment the most natural thing in the world. -She had called him Philip, too! How her cheeks burned at the very -recollection. She wished she had preserved to the end an icy dignity -of manner towards him; but she had altogether forgotten herself, and -it had been a happier moment than she had felt for these four weeks -past. Perhaps utter forgetfulness of self is the only real happiness. - -The next morning Kate was once more sitting alone before the fire in -the breakfast-room, with nothing particular to do, until it was time -to start for Lentford once more, when the servant brought in a large -official-looking cover, with the words ‘Dead Letter Office’ printed -upon it, and addressed ‘Miss Kate Layard, Ilverton.’ It was the first -time in her life that Kate had ever received such an ominous-looking -packet. She opened it with some trepidation, and drew from it her own -brief note to Philip Carey, written four weeks before. The envelope -bore several postmarks upon it, with directions to try one town -after another--Liverpool, then Manchester, then London--but it was -several minutes before she discovered how it had all happened. Her own -handwriting lay before her eyes, or she could never have believed it: -she had directed her letter to ‘Dr. Carey, Everton Square, Liverpool.’ - -How Kate had come to write Liverpool instead of Lentford she could -never understand. It was true Philip had gone to Liverpool after -leaving Ilverton, but how stupid of her to make such a dreadful -mistake! Then he, too, had been passing through as miserable a time as -herself. He must have come to the conclusion that she did not care for -him, and that she had not even the grace to thank him for the love he -had bestowed upon her in vain. What could he have thought of her? It -must have been a pain to him. She would make it up to him in some way. - -Kate’s brain was in a whirl all the way to Lentford. She walked up -the broad steps of the hospital portico like one in a dream. The fat -porter, in his handsome livery, nodded pleasantly at her; and the -students, hurrying along the broad corridors, took off their hats to -Dr. Layard’s pretty daughter. She had to pass by a recess as large as -a good-sized room, with benches round and across it, upon which were -seated rows of poor patients, waiting humbly for their turn to go in -and see the doctor. The doorkeeper had just opened the door an inch or -two, and Kate saw Philip Carey’s face, grave and care-worn, listening -to a poor woman who was just going away by another entrance. She laid -her hand upon the arm of the patient who was going in, and passed on -into the room instead. ‘Philip,’ she said, her face flushing at his -look of amazement, ‘I am only going to stay one moment. I have been so -miserable. I wrote this four weeks ago.’ - -‘Wrote what?’ he asked, clasping the hand with which she offered him -the misdirected letter, and holding both closely. - -‘I only wrote “Come,”’ stammered Kate, the tears starting into her -eyes, ‘and I thought--oh, I don’t know what I thought! I directed it -to Liverpool instead of Lentford, and it’s been wandering about ever -since. Do you understand?’ - -‘Do you mean you will be my wife?’ he asked. - -‘Yes,’ she answered. - -They had only three minutes to themselves. Three minutes was the time -allotted for each case, and as it expired the door was opened again -an inch or two to see if the doctor was ready for the next patient. -Dr. Carey led Kate to the other door, and dismissed her with a glance -which set her heart beating fast with happiness. She mounted the long -flight of stairs and entered the ward where Mrs. Duffy was lying as if -she trod on air. The old woman was resting very comfortably in bed, her -eyes calm and bright, and a faint streak of the old apple-red beginning -to show itself upon her cheek. The good chance for her recovery was a -still better one this morning. - -‘He’s coming back again this morning,’ she whispered in Kate’s ear; -‘they let him stay beside me all yesterday, and he’s coming back again -to-day. It’s a beautiful Christmas this is; I never knew one like -it. I hope they’ll never catch that poor raskill as shot me, I do. It -’ud spoil my Christmas and Johnny’s if they did. Has it been a happy -Christmas for you, my dear?’ - -‘Very happy,’ answered Kate, with a bright smile, as the present joy -blotted out the remembrance of the past sorrow. - -‘That’s right, my dear!’ murmured Mrs. Duffy, ‘I don’t know as ever I -knew such a Christmas.’ - -There is little more to be told. Dr. Carey made his appearance at Dr. -Layard’s that evening, and delighted him beyond measure by asking him -for Kate. Mrs. Duffy recovered and lived two or three years longer in -undisturbed happiness, and in a degree of comfort to which she had been -unaccustomed throughout her life. For her son, who had not prospered -much in Australia, worked industriously and steadily to maintain her at -home, and devoted himself to her with real tenderness. It was not till -after her death, when Kate Carey was standing beside her coffin looking -down at the placid face and closed eyes of the old woman, that he told -the story of his return home. - -‘I’d worked my passage across, ma’am,’ he said, the tears rolling down -his cheeks, ‘and I’d landed in Liverpool a week afore Christmas, with -as much as five pound in my pocket, all I’d saved in Australy; and -there were a lot set on me, and took me to a public, and I suppose -I drank all my wits away. I reached Ilverton by the last train on -Christmas Eve, but I didn’t know as mother were gone to live in the -town. It were a bitter night, and I slept on a bench at the railway -station. I hadn’t a penny left, when I set out to seek mother; and I -were wandering about very miserable, when I saw a decent old woman -coming along all alone. I only thought I’d frighten a shilling out of -her. I never meant no harm. The pistol were an old pistol I’d had in -the bush; and I didn’t recollect it was loaded, and it went bursting -off, all in an instant of time. That quite brought me to, and I were -running away to find somebody, when I see you and the doctor coming. I -seemed to know it were a doctor. But when I found out it were my own -poor old mother, which I did face to face with her in the hospital, I -felt as I should die. She never knew as it were me, never. She used to -talk about him, and say, “I forgave him, Johnny, and I hope God has -forgave him too, whoever he is.” I shall never see another woman like -my poor old mother.’ - - - LONDON: PRINTED BY - SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE - AND PARLIAMENT STREET - - - - -WORKS BY HESBA STRETTON, - -AUTHOR OF ‘JESSICA’S FIRST PRAYER.’ - - - =I. CASSY.= Twenty-fourth Thousand. With Six Illustrations. Square - crown 8vo. 1_s._ 6_d._ - - ‘The close of the little tale is of the most exquisitely touching - kind, and the narrative, while free and graceful, is really of the - most compressed and masterly character.’--_Nonconformist._ - - ‘It is very fresh and simple. We thank Miss Stretton for another - treat, as real to grown-up people as to children.’--_Church Herald._ - - - =II. THE KING’S SERVANTS.= With Eight Illustrations. Thirtieth - Thousand. Square crown 8vo. 1_s._ 6_d._ - - Part I. Faithful in Little. - Part II. Unfaithful. - Part III. Faithful in Much. - - ‘The language is beautifully simple, the stories are touchingly - told, and the religious purpose constantly kept in view.’ - --_Watchman._ - - ‘An interesting story.’--_Church News._ - - ‘The story, in all its beautiful simplicity and pathos, possesses a - living power likely to carry it home to the hearts of all who read - it.’--_Freeman._ - - - =III. LOST GIP.= Forty-third Thousand. With Six Illustrations. Square - crown 8vo. 1_s._ 6_d._ - - ‘Prettily told.... Will be a favourite with young people.’--_Echo._ - - ‘One of the most simply touching tales we ever read.’--_Brighton - Gazette._ - - - =IV. THE WONDERFUL LIFE.= Eighth Thousand. Fcp. 8vo. 2_s._ 6_d._ - - This little book is intended to present the result of close - investigations made by many learned men, in a plain, continuous - narrative, suitable for unlearned readers. It has been written for - those who have not the leisure or the books needed for threading - together the fragmentary and scattered incidents recorded in the four - Gospels. - - ‘A well-written and concise narrative, which describes the - wonderful story with a forcible simplicity that will appeal to all - readers.’--_Hour._ - - ‘Will be very useful in the more advanced classes of the - Sunday-school, and is also suitable for a Sunday-school - prize.’--_Church Review._ - - ‘The story is presented in a plain and attractive manner.’--_Rock._ - - ‘It is invaluable.’--_Sunday-School Quarterly Journal._ - - -HENRY S. KING & CO., London. - - - - -A LIST OF - -HENRY S. KING & CO.’S - -BOOKS SUITABLE FOR - -CHILDREN’S PRESENTS AND PRIZES. - - -_HENRY S. 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Square crown 8vo. uniform with ‘Lost Gip.’ With Six - Illustrations. 1_s._ - - ‘We have been more than pleased with this simple bit of - writing.’--_Christian World._ - - ‘Full of deep feeling and true and noble sentiment.’--_Brighton - Gazette._ - - ‘A very pretty tale.’--_John Bull._ - - ‘A pretty little story for children.’--_Scotsman._ - - ‘An exceedingly pretty little story.’--_Literary Churchman._ - - - =LOCKED OUT=: A Tale of the Strike. By ELLEN BARLEE. With a - Frontispiece. 1_s._ 6_d._ - - ‘Beautifully written ... should be bought by all means for parochial - libraries, whether in country or in town.’--_Literary Churchman._ - - ‘Well written.’--_Edinburgh Courant._ - - * * * * * - -_HENRY S. KING & CO.’S THREE-AND-SIXPENNY SERIES of BOOKS for -JUVENILES._ - - -Works by the Author of ‘St. Olave’s,’ ‘When I was a Little Girl,’ &c. - - - =I. AUNT MARY’S BRAN PIE.= Illustrated. - - ‘A bright story for children.’--_Globe._ - - ‘The stories are exceedingly good.’--_Nonconformist._ - - ‘Capital stories.’--_Hour._ - - ‘This is a very amusing book for children; one of the best books of - the season.’--_Literary World._ - - - =II. SUNNYLAND STORIES.= Fcp. 8vo. Illustrated. - - - =BRAVE MEN’S FOOTSTEPS.= A Book of Example and Anecdote for - Young People. By the Editor of ‘Men who have Risen.’ With Four - Illustrations by C. DOYLE. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. - - The lives have been chosen to represent marked varieties of - character, and their operation under different forms of effort. - Success is here viewed in no narrow or merely commercial sense. - - ‘The little volume is precisely of the stamp to win the favour of - those who, in choosing a gift for a boy, would consult his moral - development as well as his temporary pleasure.’--_Daily Telegraph._ - - ‘A readable and instructive volume.’--_Examiner._ - - ‘A good book which will, we hope, meet well-deserved - success.’--_Spectator._ - - -Works by CHARLES CAMDEN. - - - =I. HOITY, TOITY, THE GOOD LITTLE FELLOW.= With Eleven Illustrations. - Crown 8vo. - - ‘Relates very pleasantly the history of a charming little fellow who - meddles always with a kindly disposition with other people’s - affairs, and helps them to do right. There are many shrewd lessons - to be picked up in this clever little story.’--_Public Opinion._ - - ‘Another of those charming books which Mr. Charles Camden knows so - well how to produce.’--_Leeds Mercury._ - - ‘Original, faithful, and humorous story.’--_Manchester Examiner._ - - - =II. THE TRAVELLING MENAGERIE.= With Ten Illustrations by J. MAHONEY. - Crown 8vo. - - ‘A capital little book ... deserves a wide circulation among our - boys and girls.’--_Hour._ - - ‘A very attractive story.’--_Public Opinion._ - - ‘A series of admirable tales in which boys will take the deepest - interest.’--_Leeds Mercury._ - - ‘Will be sure to delight young readers; they will get from it much - useful knowledge of natural history. The story is told in a - pleasant, chatty style.’--_Standard._ - - * * * * * - - =PRETTY LESSONS IN VERSE FOR GOOD CHILDREN=; with some Lessons in - Latin, in Easy Rhyme. By SARA COLERIDGE. A New Edition. Illustrated. - - ‘Both in English and Latin they will pleasantly help little - folk through what has been called “the bitterness of - learning.”’--_Saturday Review._ - - ‘This is a most delightful, and, let us add, a most sensible book - for children. It teaches us many a good moral, many a good - common-sense lesson, in its rhymes, which are, for the most part, - very musical to the ear.’--_Standard._ - - - =THE DESERT PASTOR, JEAN JAROUSSEAU.= By Colonel E. P. DE L’HOSTE. - Translated from the French of Eugène Pelletan. In fcp. 8vo. with an - Engraved Frontispiece. New Edition. - - ‘There is a poetical simplicity and picturesqueness; the noblest - heroism; unpretentious religion; pure love, and the spectacle of a - household brought up in the fear of the Lord.’--_Illustrated London - News._ - - ‘It is a touching record of the struggles in the cause of religious - liberty of a real man.’--_Graphic._ - - ‘It is difficult to imagine any class of persons to whom this little - book will not prove attractive.’--_London Quarterly._ - - -Works by MARTHA FARQUHARSON. - - =I. ELSIE DINSMORE.= Crown 8vo. - =II. ELSIE’S GIRLHOOD.= Crown 8vo. - =III. ELSIE’S HOLIDAYS AT ROSELANDS.= Crown 8vo. - - ‘We do not pretend to have read the history of Elsie as she is - portrayed in three different volumes. By the help, however, of the - illustrations, and by dips here and there, we can safely give a - favourable account.’--_Westminster Review._ - - ‘Elsie Dinsmore is a familiar name to a world of young readers. - In the above three pretty volumes her story is complete, and - it is one full of youthful experiences, winning a general - interest.’--_Athenæum._ - - * * * * * - - =THE DESERTED SHIP.= A Real Story of the Atlantic. By CUPPLES HOWE, - Master Mariner. Illustrated by TOWNLEY GREEN. Crown 8vo. - - ‘Curious adventures with bears, seals, and other Arctic animals, and - with scarcely more human Esquimaux, form the mass of material with - which the story deals, and will much interest boys who have a spice - of romance in their composition.’--_Edinburgh Courant._ - - ‘It is full of that continual succession of easily apprehended, - yet stirring events, which please a boy, more than any other - quality.’--_Edinburgh Daily Review._ - - - =THE LITTLE WONDER-HORN.= By JEAN INGELOW. A Second Series of - ‘Stories told to a Child.’ With Fifteen Illustrations. Square 24mo. - - ‘We like all the contents of the “Little Wonder-Horn” very - much.’--_Athenæum._ - - ‘We recommend it with confidence.’--_Pall Mall Gazette._ - - ‘Full of fresh and vigorous fancy; it is worthy of the author of - some of the best of our modern verse.’--_Standard._ - - - =GUTTA-PERCHA WILLIE, the WORKING GENIUS.= By GEORGE MACDONALD. With - Nine Illustrations by ARTHUR HUGHES. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. - - ‘The cleverest child we know assures us she has read this story - through five times. Mr. MacDonald will, we are convinced, accept - that verdict upon his little work as final.’--_Spectator._ - - - =PLUCKY FELLOWS.= A Book for Boys. By STEPHEN J. MACKENNA. With Nine - Illustrations. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. - - ‘This is one of the very best “Books for Boys” which have been - issued this year.’--_Morning Advertiser._ - - ‘A thorough book for boys ... written throughout in a manly, - straightforward manner, that is sure to win the hearts of the - children.’--_London Society._ - - - =LITTLE MINNIE’S TROUBLES=: an Every-day Chronicle. By N. R. - D’ANVERS. Illustrated by W. H. HUGHES. Fcp. 8vo. - - - =THE AFRICAN CRUISER.= A Midshipman’s Adventures on the West Coast. - By S. W. SADLER, R.N., Author of ‘Marshall Vavasour.’ A Book for - Boys. With Nine Illustrations. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. - - ‘A capital story of youthful adventure.... Sea-loving boys will - find few pleasanter gift-books this season than “The African - Cruiser.”’--_Hour._ - - ‘Sea yarns have always been in favour with boys, but this, - written in a brisk style by a thorough sailor, is crammed full of - adventures.’--_Times._ - - - =SEEKING HIS FORTUNE, and other Stories.= Crown 8vo. With Four - Illustrations. - - CONTENTS:--Seeking his Fortune--Oluf and Stephanoff--What’s in a - Name?--Contrast--Onesta. - - ‘These are plain, straightforward stories, told in the precise - detailed manner which we are sure young people like.’--_Spectator._ - - ‘They are romantic, entertaining, and decidedly inculcate a sound - and generous moral.... We can answer for it that this volume will - find favour with those for whom it is written, and that the sisters - will like it quite as well as the brothers.’--_Athenæum._ - - - =SEVEN AUTUMN LEAVES FROM FAIRYLAND.= Illustrated with Nine Etchings. - - CONTENTS:-- - - Mermaid. - Little Hans. - Dimple. - The Two Princes. - Specklesides. - Black Sneid. - Little Curly. - - * * * * * - -_HENRY S. KING & CO.’S SERIES OF FIVE-SHILLING BOOKS FOR JUVENILES._ - - - =MIKE HOWE, THE BUSHRANGER OF VAN DIEMEN’S LAND.= By JAMES BONWICK. - Crown 8vo. With a Frontispiece. - - This story, although a work of fiction, is a narrative of facts as - to the leading incidents of the Bushranger’s career. The tale may - therefore be regarded as a contribution to Colonial Literature. - - ‘He illustrates the career of a bushranger half a century ago; and - this he does in a highly creditable manner. His delineations of life - in the bush are, to say the least, exquisite, and his - representations of character are very marked.’--_Edinburgh Courant._ - - - =THE TASMANIAN LILY.= By JAMES BONWICK. Crown 8vo. With Frontispiece. - - ‘An interesting and useful work.’--_Hour._ - - ‘The characters of the stories are capitally conceived, and are full - of those touches which give them a natural appearance.’--_Public - Opinion._ - - -Two Works by DAVID KER. - - - =I. THE BOY SLAVE IN BOKHARA.= A Tale of Central Asia. Crown 8vo. - With Illustrations. - - In this work real scenes are grouped round an imaginary hero; genuine - information is conveyed in a more attractive form than that of a mere - dry statistical report. - - ‘Ostap Danilevitch Kostarenko, the Russian who is supposed to relate - the story, has a great number of adventures, and passes, by dint of - courage and ability, from a state of slavery to one of independence. - Will prove attractive to boys.’--_Pall Mall Gazette._ - - ‘Exciting boy’s story, well told and abounding in incidents.’ - --_Hour._ - - ‘Full of strange adventures ... well worked out to the - end.’--_Standard._ - - ‘An attractive boy’s book. He claims to have grouped real scenes - round an imaginary hero.’--_Spectator._ - - - =II. THE WILD HORSEMAN OF THE PAMPAS.= Crown 8vo. Illustrated. - - [_Just out._ - - * * * * * - - =RAMBLES AND ADVENTURES OF OUR SCHOOL FIELD CLUB.= A Book for Boys. - By G. C. DAVIES. - - - =FANTASTIC STORIES.= By RICHARD LEANDER. Translated from the German - by PAULINA B. GRANVILLE. With Eight full-page Illustrations by M. E. - FRASER-TYTLER. Crown 8vo. - - ‘Short, quaint, and, as they are fitly called, fantastic, they deal - with all manner of subjects.’--_Guardian._ - - ‘“Fantastic” is certainly the right epithet to apply to some of - these strange tales.’--_Examiner._ - - ‘Amusing tales by one who took part in the general siege of - Paris.’--_Standard._ - - ‘“The Knight who grew Rusty” is a delightful story, but “The - Queen who could not make gingerbread nuts, and the King who could - not play on the Jew’s harp,” will probably be the children’s - favourite.’--_Daily News._ - - - =THE GREAT DUTCH ADMIRALS.= By JACOB DE LIEFDE. Crown 8vo. With - Eleven Illustrations by TOWNLEY GREEN and others. - - ‘A wholesome present for boys.’--_Athenæum._ - - ‘A really good book.’--_Standard._ - - ‘A really excellent book.’--_Spectator._ - - - =HER TITLE OF HONOUR=: a Book for Girls. By HOLME LEE. New Edition. - Crown 8vo. With a Frontispiece. - - ‘It is unnecessary to recommend tales of Holme Lee’s, for they are - well known, and all more or less liked. But this book far exceeds - even our favourites, not perhaps as a story, for this is of the - simplest kind, but because with the interest of a pathetic story - is united the value of a definite and high purpose; and because, - also, it is a careful and beautiful piece of writing, and is full of - studies of refined and charming character.’--_Spectator._ - - ‘It contains a vast amount of admirable and happy teaching, as - valuable as it is rare.’--_Standard._ - - - =AT SCHOOL WITH AN OLD DRAGOON.= By STEPHEN J. MACKENNA. Crown 8vo. - With Six Illustrations. - - ‘Consisting almost entirely of startling stories of military - adventure.... Boys will find them sufficiently exciting - reading.’--_Times._ - - ‘These yarns give some very spirited and interesting descriptions of - soldiering in various parts of the world.’--_Spectator._ - - ‘Mr. MacKenna’s former work, “Plucky Fellows,” is already a - general favourite, and those who read the stories of the Old - Dragoon will find that he has still plenty of materials at hand - for pleasant tales, and has lost none of his power in telling them - well.’--_Standard._ - - - =WAKING AND WORKING; OR, FROM GIRLHOOD TO WOMANHOOD.= By Mrs. G. S. - REANEY. With a Frontispiece. Crown 8vo. - - ‘A good tale--good in composition, good in style, good in - purpose.’--_Nonconformist._ - - ‘The story is of a very attractive character. Its purpose is a good - and important one.’--_Rock._ - - - =SLAVONIC FAIRY TALES.= From Russian, Servian, Polish, and Bohemian - Sources. By JOHN T. NAAKE, of the British Museum. With Four - Illustrations. Crown 8vo. - - ‘A most choice and charming selection.... The tales have an original - national ring in them, and will be pleasant reading to thousands - besides children. Yet children will eagerly open the pages, and not - willingly close them, of the pretty volume.’--_Standard._ - - ‘English readers now have an opportunity of becoming acquainted with - eleven Polish and eight Bohemian stories, as well as with eight - Russian and thirteen Servian, in Mr. Naake’s modest but serviceable - collection of Slavonic Fairy Tales. Its contents are, as a general - rule, well chosen, and they are translated with a fidelity which - deserves cordial praise.... Before taking leave of his prettily got - up volume, we ought to mention that its contents fully come up to - the promise held out in its preface.’--_Academy._ - - - =STORIES IN PRECIOUS STONES.= By HELEN ZIMMERN. With Six - Illustrations. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. - - ‘A series of pretty tales which are half fantastic, half natural, - and pleasantly quaint, as befits stories intended for the young.’ - --_Daily Telegraph._ - - ‘A pretty little book which fanciful young persons will appreciate, - and which will remind its readers of many a legend, and many - an imaginary virtue attached to the gems they are so fond of - wearing.’--_Post._ - - * * * * * - - =THE BETTER SELF.= By J. HAIN FRISWELL. Essays for Home Life. Crown - 8vo. 6_s._ - - CONTENTS:-- - - Beginning at Home - The Girls at Home - The Wife’s Mother - Pride in the Family - Discontent and Grumbling - Domestic Economy - Likes and Dislikes - On Keeping People Down - On Falling Out Peace - - ‘A high conception, but never severe nor morose; the spirit is as - sound and wholesome as it is noble and elevated.’--_Standard._ - - ‘A really charming volume of Essays, which gives good advice without - becoming a bore.’--_City Press._ - - - =BY STILL WATERS.= By EDWARD GARRETT. A Story for Quiet Hours. Crown - 8vo. With Seven Illustrations. 6_s._ - - ‘We have read many books by Edward Garrett, but none that has - pleased us so well as this. It has more than pleased; it has charmed - us.’--_Nonconformist._ - - ‘Mr. Garrett is a novelist whose books it is always a pleasure to - meet. His stories are full of quiet, penetrating observations, and - there is about them a rare atmosphere of not unpleasing meditative - melancholy.’--_Echo._ - - - =BEATRICE AYLMER, AND OTHER TALES.= By MARY M. HOWARD, Author of - ‘Brampton Rectory.’ Crown 8vo. 6_s._ - - ‘These tales possess considerable merit.’--_Court Journal._ - - ‘A neat and chatty little volume.’--_Hour._ - - - =OUR PLACE AMONG INFINITIES.= By RICHARD A. PROCTOR, B.A., Author of - ‘Saturn and its Systems,’ ‘The Universe,’ ‘The Expanse of Heaven,’ - &c. To which are added, ‘Essays on Astrology’ and ‘The Jewish - Sabbath.’ Crown 8vo. 6_s._ - - - =THE EXPANSE OF HEAVEN.= A Series of Essays on the Wonders of the - Firmament. By RICHARD A. PROCTOR, B.A. With a Frontispiece. Second - Edition. Crown 8vo. 6_s._ - - ‘A very charming work; cannot fail to lift the reader’s mind up - “through nature’s work to nature’s God.”’--_Standard._ - - ‘Full of thought, readable, and popular.’--_Brighton Gazette._ - - - =PHANTASMION.= A Fairy Romance. By SARA COLERIDGE. With an - Introductory Preface by the Right Hon. Lord COLERIDGE, of Ottery S. - Mary. A new Edition. In 1 vol. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._ - - This book, of which the first edition was limited to 250 copies, was - long out of print, and as now revived appeals to a larger audience - and a new generation. They will find in this delicate imagination, - melody of verse, clear and picturesque language, and virginal purity - of conception. - - ‘The readers of this fairy tale will find themselves dwelling for a - time in a veritable region of romance, breathing an atmosphere of - unreality, and surrounded by supernatural beings.’--_Morning Post._ - - ‘This delightful work.... We would gladly have read it were it twice - the length, closing the book with a feeling of regret that the - repast was at an end.’--_Vanity Fair._ - - ‘A beautiful conception of a rarely gifted mind.’--_Examiner._ - - - =ECHOES OF A FAMOUS YEAR.= By HARRIETT PARR. Crown 8vo. 8_s._ 6_d._ - - The story of the Franco-Prussian War, 1870-71, told mainly for the - young, but, it is hoped, possessing permanent interest as a record of - the great struggle. - - ‘Miss Parr has the great gift of charming simplicity of style; and - if children are not interested in her book, many of their seniors - will be.’--_British Quarterly Review._ - - -HENRY S. KING & CO., London. - - - - -POETICAL GIFT BOOKS. - - - =LYRICS OF LOVE=, from Shakespeare to Tennyson. Selected and arranged - by W. DAVENPORT ADAMS, Jun. Fcap. 8vo. cloth extra, gilt edges, 3_s._ - 6_d._ - - The present work differs from previous collections of the kind in - these particulars: (1) That it consists entirely of short lyric poems. - (2) That each poem exhibits some phase of the tender passion, and - (3) That it includes specimens of the genius of the latest as well as - of the earliest writers. - - - =HOME SONGS FOR QUIET HOURS.= By the Rev. Canon R. H. BAYNES, Editor - of ‘Lyra Anglicana,’ &c. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. Cloth extra, - 3_s._ 6_d._ - - A Collection of Hymns and Sacred Songs for the help and solace of the - various members of Christ’s Church Militant here on earth. - - ‘A tasteful collection of devotional poetry of a very high - standard of excellence. The pieces are short, mostly original, - and instinct, for the most part, with the most ardent spirit of - devotion.’--_Standard._ - - - =POEMS.= By WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. Red-line Edition. Handsomely - bound. With 24 Illustrations and Portrait of the Author. 7_s._ 6_d._ - - A Cheaper Edition, with Frontispiece. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - These are the only complete English Editions sanctioned by the Author, - and they contain several of the Author’s Poems which have not appeared - in any previous Collection. - - ‘Of all the poets of the United States there is no one who obtained - the fame and position of a classic earlier, or has kept them longer - than William Cullen Bryant.’--_Academy._ - - - =ENGLISH SONNETS.= Collected and Arranged by JOHN DENNIS. Fcap. 8vo. - Elegantly bound. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - This Collection of Sonnets, arranged chronologically from the - Elizabethan to the Victorian era, is designed for the students of - poetry, and not only for the reader who takes up a volume of verse in - order to pass away an idle hour. The Sonnet contains, to use the words - of Marlowe, ‘infinite riches in a little room.’ - - ‘An exquisite selection, a selection which every lover of poetry - will consult again and again with delight. The notes are very - useful.... The volume is one for which English literature owes Mr. - Dennis the heartiest thanks.’--_Spectator._ - - -HENRY S. KING & CO., London. - - - - -_W. C. BENNETT’S POEMS. NEW EDITIONS._ - - -A LIBRARY EDITION. Crown 8vo. Illustrated, cloth 6_s._ - - =BABY MAY=--HOME POEMS and BALLADS. People’s Edition, in Two Parts, - paper covers, 1_s._ each. - - ‘One of the most popular of our poets. Let us say that every - mother ought to learn “Baby May” and “Baby’s Shoes” off by - heart.’--_Westminster Review._ - - ‘The love of children few poets of our day have expressed with so - much naïve fidelity as Dr. Bennett.’--_Examiner._ - - ‘Those readers who do not as yet know “Baby May” should make her - acquaintance forthwith; those who have that pleasure already will - find her in good company.’--_Guardian._ - - ‘Many a tender thought and charming fancy find graceful utterance in - his pages.’--_Athenæum._ - - ‘“Baby’s Shoes” is worthy to rank with “Baby May,” which, from its - completeness and finished charm as a picture of infancy, is one - of the most exquisite among Dr. Bennett’s productions.’--_Daily - Telegraph._ - - ‘Some of his poems on children are among the most charming in the - language, and are familiar in a thousand homes.’--_Weekly Dispatch._ - - - =SONGS FOR SAILORS.= Cloth gilt, Illustrated, 3_s._ 6_d._; paper - covers, 1_s._ - - ‘Spirited, melodious, and vigorously graphic’--_Morning Post._ - - ‘Very spirited.’--_Daily News._ - - ‘Really admirable.’--_Pall Mall Gazette._ - - ‘Right well done.’--_Illustrated London News._ - - ‘Sure of a wide popularity.’--_Morning Advertiser._ - - ‘Songs that sailors most enjoy.’--_Echo._ - - ‘Full of incident and strongly expressed sentiment.’--_Examiner._ - - ‘We may fairly say that Dr. Bennett has taken up the mantle of - Dibdin.’--_Graphic._ - - -HENRY S. KING & CO., London. - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Emboldened text is surrounded by equals signs: =bold=. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO CHRISTMAS STORIES: SAM -FRANKLIN'S SAVINGS-BANK; A MISERABLE CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Two Christmas Stories: Sam Franklin's Savings-Bank; A Miserable Christmas and a Happy New Year</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Hesba Stretton</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 12, 2021 [eBook #65830]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Charlene Taylor, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO CHRISTMAS STORIES: SAM FRANKLIN'S SAVINGS-BANK; A MISERABLE CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" width="50%" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<h1>TWO CHRISTMAS STORIES</h1> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<div class="bbox"> -<p class="center"><b>By the Author of ‘Jessica’s First Prayer.’</b></p> - - -<p class="center"><i>Uniform with this Volume, gilt, cloth limp, each with<br /> -Frontispiece.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><b>Price Sixpence each</b></p> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">FRIENDS TILL DEATH.</div> -<div class="verse">THE WORTH OF A BABY and HOW APPLE-TREE COURT WAS WON. 1 vol.</div> -<div class="verse">MICHEL LORIO’S CROSS.</div> -<div class="verse">OLD TRANSOME.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="center"><img src="images/asterism.jpg" alt="" /> For a list of other Works by the same Author, see the<br /> -Catalogue at the end of this work.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="center">HENRY S. KING & CO., LONDON.</p> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption">‘That’s an old waistcoat of mine.’</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="floatright"><i>See page 24.</i></span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="titlepage"> - -<p><span class="xxlarge">TWO CHRISTMAS STORIES</span><br /> -<br /> -<i>SAM FRANKLIN’S SAVINGS-BANK</i><br /> -<br /> -<i>A MISERABLE CHRISTMAS AND<br /> -A HAPPY NEW YEAR</i></p> - - -<p>BY<br /> -<br /> -<span class="xlarge">HESBA STRETTON</span><br /> -<br /> -AUTHOR OF<br /> -‘LOST GIP’ ‘CASSY’ ‘JESSICA’S FIRST PRAYER’ ETC.</p> - -<p>WITH TWO ILLUSTRATIONS</p> - -<p><i>HENRY S. KING & CO., LONDON</i><br /> -1876</p> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center">(<i>All rights reserved</i>)</p> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">SAM FRANKLIN’S SAVINGS-BANK.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/image007.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p class="drop-cap">IF any one had told Sam Franklin before he -married that he would ever save money out of his -wages, he would have laughed the idea to scorn; they -had never been more than enough when he had only -himself to keep, and when there was a wife into the -bargain, what chance would there be for him to have -a penny to put by? Yet, before he had been a husband -many weeks, he had made the discovery that -the wages which had only been enough for one were -rather more than enough for two. There were no -dinners at the cookshops to be paid for, no long -evenings spent in the public-houses, no laundresses’ -bills to meet. He had a great deal more comfort -with a somewhat smaller outlay.</p> - -<p>When Sam found half-a-crown in his pocket over -and above the sum he allowed his wife for housekeeping -and rent, he hardly knew what to do with it.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> -His own fireside was very comfortable, and he did -not care to leave it for the tavern. He and his wife -were living on the first-floor of a house in a decent, -quiet street, mostly occupied by artisans like himself, -though the houses were from three to four stories high, -and had been built for richer people. They had a -sitting-room, with a bedroom behind it, and the use -of a back kitchen for cooking and washing; so the -place was quite large enough for comfort. Ann -Franklin had notions of cleanliness and smartness, -which made her take great pride in herself and all her -belongings. The parlour, as she liked it to be called, -was kept bright and cheerful, and that man must have -had a strange idea of comfort who preferred the noise -and smoke of a public-house taproom.</p> - -<p>What, then, was Sam to do with his spare half-crown? -It doubled itself into five shillings, and by-and-by -a golden half-sovereign lay among the silver -and copper he carried loose in his pocket. He was -a man of few words—a close man, his comrades -called him—and silent as the grave concerning his -own affairs. Had he told one of them when he was -about to be married? Not his best friend amongst -them! Had he mentioned it as a piece of news -interesting to himself that he had a son born? Never! -He despised men who could not keep a still tongue in -their heads, but must prate about all they did or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> -thought. Even with his wife he was sparing of words, -though he liked her to tell him everything she did, -and keep no secret from him. But then Ann was -only a woman; a man should have more control over -his tongue.</p> - -<p>So Sam Franklin did not say a word about his -savings, though they seemed to grow like seed sown -in good ground. Every week he gave his wife the -sum they had first agreed upon, and she made the -best of it cheerfully, letting him know how every -penny was spent, and sometimes wondering to him -how his comrades’ wives managed to be so much -smarter than she was. At first he had thoughts of -buying her a new bonnet or shawl, but he scarcely -liked to own that he had been keeping back the -money from her. This difficulty became greater as -the sum grew larger; and, besides that, the possession -of it began to get a hold upon him. It gave to him -a secret consciousness of wealth among his fellow-workmen, -which was very pleasant for a time; but -by-and-by this feeling passed away, and a strange, -unaccountable dread of being poor took possession of -him. He began to talk about bad times, and the -high prices of provisions and clothing, and the expenses -of a family, though his own consisted of his -cheery, managing wife, and one boy only. But this -change in Sam Franklin was so gradual, that neither<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> -himself nor his wife had any idea what was going on. -He spent his evenings at home, and went nearly every -Sunday to the place of worship which Ann and -Johnny constantly attended. Ann was very proud -of her tall, fine-looking husband, whose clothes she -kept in such good order that he looked, in her eyes -at least, quite a gentleman. No one had a word to -say against him, though if it had been otherwise, Ann -was too true a wife to let it be said in her presence. -He was industrious and steady, and kind to her and -the boy; and if she had to work hard to keep them -both tidy and respectable, why, it was the fault of the -bad times, not her husband’s.</p> - -<p>When Sam Franklin had saved ten pounds, and -had two Bank of England notes to take care of, his -difficulty and perplexity had very much increased. -There was no Post-office Savings-bank, and he had -no faith in the old savings-banks, for he could remember -how his poor old mother had lost every penny of -her painful savings by the breaking of the one she -had put her money into. He dare not tell Ann about -it, after keeping such a secret so long. The money became -a trouble to him, though perhaps it was his -most cherished possession. Certainly he thought of it -oftener than of Ann or Johnny, for wherever he hid it, -it could not but be a source of anxiety to him. If he -took it to the work-yard with him he was fearful of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -losing it, whilst if he left it at home he was quite as -much alarmed lest Ann should find it. How it would -alter the face of things if she discovered that he was -the owner of all that money, and had never told her!</p> - -<p>At length, when his savings mounted up to twenty -pounds, a bright idea struck him one day. He stayed -at home the next Sunday evening, and having found -his old wedding waistcoat, which was lined with a -good strong linen lining, he carefully unpicked a part -of one of the seams large enough to take in a folded -bank-note, and spread them as high as he could reach -with his finger up and down the breast of it. He -could not stitch it up again as neatly as it had been -sewn before, but he was obliged to trust to Ann not -noticing it, for it was a worn-out waistcoat and past -her regard altogether: yet when she came home the -first thing she saw was that he had it on with his coat -buttoned across it.</p> - -<p>‘Good gracious, Sam!’ she cried, ‘whatever made -you put on that old thing?’</p> - -<p>‘It’s warmer than any I’ve got,’ he answered, -putting his hand up against the breast of it where the -bank-notes lay safe and hidden.</p> - -<p>‘It’s so old-fashioned,’ she said, discontentedly; -‘but it doesn’t matter much if you won’t go out of -doors in it. Men have no notion of things.’</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>‘What was the text, Ann?’ he inquired, simply -to turn away her attention from the old waistcoat.</p> - -<p>‘Oh! it hadn’t anything to do with us,’ she replied, -more cheerfully; ‘it was, ‘The love of money is the -root of all evil.’ Nothing for us in that, you know, -though the preacher did say we might love it as much -from craving after it as having it. Well, I neither have -it, nor crave it.’</p> - -<p>Sam felt uncomfortable, and did not make any -further remark. He told his wife he should always -put on his old waistcoat when he came in from his -work; and he continued to do so regularly for some -time, then occasionally, until after awhile the waistcoat -simply hung on a nail behind the bedroom door, -only being taken down once a week by Ann, to have the -dust brushed from it. Every now and then he had -another note to add to those he had already secured; -and he became so skilled in opening and sewing the -seam, that there was no fear of Ann noticing any -difference. Even yet he would wear it upon a rainy -Sunday, feeling a deep satisfaction in his admirable -scheme for concealing and taking care of his savings.</p> - -<p>Month after month, and year after year, the old -waistcoat kept his secret faithfully. His eyes rested -upon it first thing in the morning and last thing at -night, hanging behind the door, as if it would hang -there for ever. He grew more stingy then ever,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> -grudging his wife her bits of blue and pink ribbon, -with which she made herself smart, and altogether -refused to send Johnny to a school where the fee was -sixpence a week, instead of the threepence he had -paid hitherto at a dame’s-school. He was longing to -make up fifty pounds; he had already forty-five in -his waistcoat, and how much more fifty pounds -sounded than forty-five!</p> - -<p>He had between three and four pounds towards -this very desirable end, when one night, upon his return -from work, he went as usual into the back room -to wash his hands and face, and glanced at once towards -the familiar object behind the door. But it was -not there! The place was bare, and the nail empty. -The mere sight of an empty nail in that place filled -him with terror; but no doubt Ann had laid it away -in some drawer. His voice, as he called to her, was -broken and tremulous.</p> - -<p>‘Where have you put my old waistcoat?’ he asked. -He could hear her pouring the boiling water over the -tea in the next room, and she did not answer before -clicking down the lid of the teapot.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, it was only harbouring the dust,’ she answered, -in a cheerful voice, ‘so I made a right good -bargain, and sold it for ninepence to an old-clothesman.’</p> - -<p>The shock was so sudden that Sam staggered as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> -if he had received a heavy blow, and fell on the floor. -He did not quite lose his senses, for he felt Ann -trying to lift him up, and heard her asking what ailed -him. In a minute or two he managed to get up and -sit down on the foot of the bed, but still he found -himself giddy and stunned.</p> - -<p>‘Where is it?’ he cried, bursting into tears and -sobs, like a child; ‘where is it?’</p> - -<p>‘The old waistcoat?’ she asked, thinking he was -gone out of his mind.</p> - -<p>‘Yes!’ he said. ‘There was nine five-pound notes -in it; forty-five pounds in Bank of England notes!’</p> - -<p>At first Ann thought his head had been hurt by -his fall, and he was rambling; but as he kept on -moaning over his loss, and confessing how he had -concealed the notes from her, she began to believe -him, and all the sooner when he pulled out the three -sovereigns he had saved towards the tenth note and -flung them on the floor in angry despair.</p> - -<p>‘And I don’t know the man from Adam!’ cried -Ann. ‘I never saw him before; and he’ll take very -good care I never see him again. Oh, Sam! how -could you? how could you keep it a secret all these -years, when I never bought as much as a yard of -ribbon or a collar on the sly? I can’t forgive it, or -forget it either.’</p> - -<p>She felt it very hard that Sam should not have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -trusted her. The loss of the money was hard, and -she could not help thinking what a large sum it was, -and what it might have done for Johnny. But the -loss of faith in her husband was ten times worse. -How could she ever believe in him again? or how -could she ever be sure again that he really loved and -trusted her?</p> - -<p>It was a very miserable evening. Sam bewailed -his money so bitterly that Ann began to fancy he -would rather have lost her or his child. She sat silent -and indignant, whilst he, unlike himself, was almost -raving with angry sorrow. She did not speak to him -the next morning before he set off to the yard, -though she knew he had lain awake all night like -herself, and had not swallowed a morsel of breakfast. -It was a cold, wintry day, with a drizzling mist filling -the air. Sam was wet through before he reached his -work, and there was no chance of drying his clothes. -He was wet through when he came home, but there -were no dry, warm things laid out for him. He -might wait upon himself, thought Ann; it would be -well for him to see the difference between a good wife -and a bad one. He would not condescend to find a -change of clothing for himself, and he sat shivering -on the hearth all night, in spite of the warm, cheerful -blaze of the bright fire.</p> - -<p>By the time the week was ended, Sam Franklin<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -was compelled to knock off work. Severe rheumatic -fever had set in, and the doctor said he must not -expect to get back to the yard for three months or -more. Perhaps it was the best thing that could have -befallen him, for it brought back all the old warm -love for him to his wife’s heart, which had been -grieved and estranged by his closeness and want of -trust in her. She nursed him tenderly, never saying -a word to blame him now he could not get out of her -way, as many wives would have done. Before his -illness was half over she was forced to pawn all her -own best clothing, as well as his, to buy the mere -necessaries of life. Never had Sam Franklin thought -his wife would have to go day after day to the pawn-shop; -but she did it so cheerfully that half of the -sting of it was taken away.</p> - -<p>‘Nancy,’ he said, one morning, ‘all night long -I’ve had a text ringing in my head, ‘You cannot -serve God and mammon,’ ‘You cannot serve God and -mammon!’ Why, I used to think I was doing God -a service when I put on my Sunday clothes and went -to church of a Sunday morning with you. As if -He’d think that were serving Him! And then all the -week I was worshipping that old waistcoat of mine -hanging behind the door, as much as any poor -heathen worships blocks of wood and stone. I -begin to think it was God who put it in your heart<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> -to sell it to the old-clothesman. But how can I -serve Him now, Nancy, my girl? I can’t do anything -save lie in this bed and be a burden to you.’</p> - -<p>Ann Franklin stooped down and kissed her husband, -whispering, ‘I don’t mind a bit about you -being a burden, as you call it;’ and after that she -opened a Bible and read these words: ‘Then said -they unto him, What shall we do, that we may work -the works of God? Jesus answered and said unto -them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on Him -whom he hath sent.’</p> - -<p>‘Ay! I see it,’ he said, after a long pause, ‘that’s -a work I can begin better here, perhaps, than in the -yard at my work. I can work for God that way, -lying here on my back as helpless as a baby. And -now I come to think of it, Jesus Christ never served -mammon anyway, and if I believe in Him I shall try -to be like Him. It’s no use praying to God on Sundays -and doing contrary all the week, wailing after -money and such like.’</p> - -<p>‘Sam,’ answered his wife, ‘I’ve not been believing -in him as I ought, for I’ve been fretting after that old -waistcoat ever so, thinking how useful the money -would be now; but if you’ll help me I’ll help you, -and we’ll try to believe in Him just the same as if we -could see him coming into the room and talking -to us.’</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span>‘But that would be seeing, not believing.’</p> - -<p>‘So it would,’ she answered, ‘and he said himself, -“Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.” -We must trust in Him without seeing Him.’</p> - -<p>But it was a hard trial to trust in God whilst all -their possessions were disappearing one after another. -Sam was a long while in fully recovering his strength; -and when he was fit to go back to the yard they were -pretty deeply in debt. Yet never had they been so -happy in former days. Their simple faith in the -Saviour gave them a peace different from anything -they had ever felt before; and Sam, who had now no -secret care or pleasure to brood over in his own mind, -grew frank and open with his wife. They pinched -and denied themselves to get out of debt; and when -the next winter came they were again in the comfortable -circumstances which had been theirs when Ann -sold the valuable old waistcoat.</p> - -<p>‘Sam,’ said Ann, a day or two before Christmas-day, -‘Johnny’s been putting threepence a week into -the school club. He’s got as much as nine shillings -in, and he’s to have twopence a shilling added to it -if we buy him clothes with it, but we can have the -nine shillings out if we like. Come home in time to -go with us to the school to-night.’</p> - -<p>‘Ay, ay!’ said Sam, heartily, ‘I’ll go with Johnny -to get his little fortune.’</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>It was quite dark in the evening when the three -started off for the school where the weekly pence -were paid in. But as they locked their parlour-door -and turned into the street, they saw a girl about -Johnny’s age, with bare feet and no bonnet on her -head, standing on the outer door-sill, shivering and -crying, as she looked at the dismal night, with flakes -of snow drifting lazily in the air. They all knew her -well; she was the little girl belonging to the tenant -of the attic two floors above them. Ann had often -given fragments of bread and meat to Johnny to take -to her, but she had always shrunk from inviting her -into their parlour, because she was too dirty and -ragged. Now, as the child stood crying and shivering -on the door-step, her heart smote her for her -want of kindness, and she stopped to speak to her -gently.</p> - -<p>‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.</p> - -<p>‘Father says I must go and beg,’ she answered, -crying more bitterly, ‘and I’m frightened, and it’s so -bitter cold. But we must pay our rent, he says, or -be turned out, and he doesn’t know where to go to, -and is very ill, coughin’ ever so. We owe for three -weeks now, that’s nine shillings, and I don’t know -where I’m to beg for nine shillings.’</p> - -<p>‘There’s all the coppers I’ve got,’ said Sam -putting three or four pence in her hand, and hurrying<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> -on with Ann and Johnny, whilst the girl pattered after -them, with her bare feet tingling in the snow. Ann -did not speak again till they reached the school, but -once or twice she looked back and saw the little -ragged figure following them. There was no one in -the school room except themselves and the gentleman -who was ready to receive their payment and give -them the ticket for buying clothes to the value of -ten shillings and sixpence. But before he could write -out the ticket Ann glanced round, and saw a thin, -care-worn little face peering in through the window.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Sam,’ she cried, ‘we don’t want it so badly -after all, and I think if it belonged to Him, Jesus -Christ, he would give it to the poor man up in the -attic to pay his rent with. Don’t you think he -would?’</p> - -<p>‘But it’s Johnny’s little fortune,’ said Sam, ‘and we -should lose one and sixpence if we took it out for that.’</p> - -<p>‘Johnny ’ud be glad to give it to poor little -Bell?’ asked Ann, with her hand on the boy’s -shoulder.</p> - -<p>‘Yes, mother, for little Bell,’ he said readily.</p> - -<p>‘Johnny’s clothes are warm, if they’re shabby,’ -pursued Ann, ‘and there’s that poor little creature in -rags, and barefoot. My heart aches for her, Sam. -If it were our boy, and they’d nine shillings they -didn’t want badly, what should we like them to do?’</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span>‘Well, Ann, I give up,’ he said; ‘after all, it’s your -savings, not mine.’</p> - -<p>Still he was not quite satisfied about it. That -man in the attic was very probably a drunken vagabond, -and deserved to be turned out for not paying -his rent. To be sure he had been a tenant nearly a -year, and had been quiet enough, meddling with nobody, -and not putting himself in anybody’s way. -Sam had not seen him above two or three times, and -then he had only just caught sight of a thin, stooping -figure, with a shabby old coat buttoned up to the throat, -as if the man had no shirt to wear. Anyhow it was -Ann’s business, and if any wife deserved to have her -own way in a thing like this, it was his wife.</p> - -<p>Ann picked up the money, which was counted out -to her, with a pleasant smile upon her face. It was -snowing very fast when they opened the school-room -door; but there was little Bell still, with her face -pressed against the window and one foot drawn up -out of the snow to keep it warmer. Ann called to her, -and she ran quickly towards them.</p> - -<p>‘I prayed to God for the money this morning,’ she -said, looking wistfully up into Ann’s smiling face, ‘but -He couldn’t have heard me, for He never sent it.’</p> - -<p>‘He’s going to send it now,’ answered Ann.</p> - -<p>‘Will an angel come with it?’ she asked.</p> - -<p>‘Ay!’ answered Sam, stooping down and lifting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -the child in his arms, for he was quite strong again, -and she was too thin and puny to be much weight. -He did not like to see her bare feet on the snow, and -if Ann was going to do them a good turn, why should -he not do another?</p> - -<p>‘An angel with shining, white clothes on, and -wings?’ said little Bell.</p> - -<p>‘No; she’s wearing an old bonnet and a faded -shawl,’ answered Sam, ‘and her wings aren’t grown -yet, I’m glad to say.’</p> - -<p>‘For shame, Sam!’ cried his wife; but she was -glad to hear from his voice that he was agreeing -heartily with her self-denial. It was not far back to -their home, but instead of turning into their own -pleasant room they all marched up two flights of -stairs to the attic.</p> - -<p>It was a low room with a shelving roof, and lighted -by a skylight, of which two or three of the panes were -broken, and a few stray snowflakes were floating in, -and hardly melting in the chilly air. There was an -old rusty stove instead of a fireplace, but no fire in -it; and in one corner lay a hard mattress, on which -they could see in the dim light the figure of a man, -barely covered with a few clothes. As he lifted up -his head to speak to them a racking cough choked -him, and it was a minute or two before he could utter -a word.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>‘We’ve been your neighbours a long while,’ said -Ann, gently, ‘and I’m ashamed I never came to see -you before. We’ve brought little Bell home, for it’s -a dreadful night out of doors, not fit for a grown-up -person, scarcely.’</p> - -<p>‘But the landlord says he’ll turn us out to-morrow,’ -gasped the sick man.</p> - -<p>‘No! no!’ answered Ann; ‘that’s all right. -We’ve got the money ready for him, and now we’ll -make you as comfortable as we can. Sam run down -and bring me a light, that’s a good fellow.’</p> - -<p>‘I’m not going to live long,’ said the stranger, ‘and -I’m afraid of being turned out, but I can never pay -you back again. There’s no more work in me, and -my money’s done; I can’t pay you.’</p> - -<p>‘Never mind,’ she answered, ‘we’re only doing as -we’d be done by, so don’t you worry about it. Here’s -Sam coming with a candle; and now I’ll put your -bed straight.’</p> - -<p>But when the light was brought in, and Ann -looked down at the poor covering on the mattress, -she uttered a little scream of amazement, and sank -down on a box beside the bed of the sick man. Sam -himself stood as still as a stone, staring, as she did, -at the clothes which lay across the bed. There was -his old wedding waistcoat; he knew it by a patch -which Ann had put into it very carefully. Was it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -possible that the nine five-pound notes were still safely -hidden in the lining?</p> - -<p>‘That’s an old waistcoat of mine,’ he said, as soon -as he could speak; ‘I never thought to see it again.’</p> - -<p>‘I bought it soon after I came here,’ answered the -attic tenant; ‘an old-clothesman offered it for a -shilling. It’s been a good warm waistcoat; but I’ve -worn it for the last time.’</p> - -<p>‘I’ll give you a couple of blankets for it,’ said Sam, -eagerly. ‘My wife sold it without asking me, and it -was my wedding waistcoat, you see. I didn’t want to -part with it.’</p> - -<p>‘Take it, and welcome, without any blankets,’ he -answered; ‘you’ve done enough for me already.’</p> - -<p>‘No,’ said Ann, ‘I’ll bring the blankets.’</p> - -<p>She was trembling with excitement, but she would -not leave the poor man until she had stopped up the -broken panes, made the bed comfortable, and wrapped -him well up in some warm blankets. Then she went -down to their own room, and found Sam waiting for -her before opening the seam in the lining of the -waistcoat. Even his hand shook, but he managed to -unpick a few stitches, and draw out a crumpled bit of -paper. Yes; they were all there, the nine five-pound -notes he had never expected to touch again.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Sam!’ she cried, with tears in her eyes, ‘do -you think you will love them again?’</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>For a few minutes he sat still, looking earnestly at -the notes, with a strange expression of fear upon his -face. He compared the peace and happiness of the -last few months with the heavy burden his secret had -been to him. He thought of how he had begun to -learn to think of God when he awoke in the morning, -and when he was falling asleep at night. If he kept -the money, would it be the same? Yet would it be -right to throw away what God might intend them to -keep as a provision against some time of need? Perhaps -God saw the time was come when he might be -trusted with money again.</p> - -<p>‘Ann,’ he said, ‘If I thought these notes would -tempt me to serve mammon again, I’d throw them all -on to the fire yonder. You take charge of them, my -lass, and put them into the Post-Office Savings-bank, -that was opened a few months ago. Thank God I -lost them, and thank God I’ve found them again.’</p> - -<p>For the next few weeks Sam Franklin and his -wife nursed and tended the dying man in the attic as -tenderly as if he had been their brother, teaching him -what Sam had learned himself, that even on a sick -bed he might work the works of God, by believing on -Jesus Christ, whom he hath sent. When he died, -blessing them for their brotherly love to him, they -took charge of little Bell, and no doubt spent as much -upon her as the money laid by in the savings-bank.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> -But she grew up like a daughter to them; and not -long ago she became their daughter by marrying -Johnny Franklin. The wedding took place a day or -two before Christmas, the anniversary of the day -when Johnny readily gave up his small fortune for -little Bell.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Sam!’ said his wife, as she thought of it, -‘how would it have been if we’d kept the nine shillings -to buy clothes for Johnny?’</p> - -<p>‘We should have kept the nine shillings and lost -the forty-five pounds,’ answered Sam. ‘It’s true, “He -that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord; -and that which he hath given will he pay him -again.”’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, but it’s more than that,’ said Ann; ‘we’d a -chance of doing something like Jesus Christ would -have done in our place, and we did it. That was the -best of all.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/image028.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption">She saw the stranger produce a pistol.</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="floatright"><i>See page 46.</i></span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">A MISERABLE CHRISTMAS AND<br /> -A HAPPY NEW YEAR.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/image029.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p class="drop-cap">IF you had asked any of the poor people of Ilverton -who was the prettiest and best girl in the town, -they would, one and all, have answered promptly, ‘Dr. -Layard’s daughter.’ There was scarcely a poor man -or woman, who did not know the way to Dr. Layard’s -surgery, where he gave advice gratis to all who could -not really afford to pay for it. And there was scarcely -one who did not know the look of Dr. Layard’s bright, -comfortable, old-fashioned kitchen, and the pleasant, -tender smile on Kate Layard’s face, as she listened -pityingly to their sad stories, and sent them away -home with happier hearts and lighter spirits.</p> - -<p>If it had not been for her poor people, as she -called them, Kate Layard’s life would have been -utterly dull and idle. She had no household duties<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> -to see after; her aunt, who had taken the management -of all such matters whilst she was still a little -girl, would not brook any interference with her rule; -and preferred to have Kate sitting in the drawing-room, -idly busy over fancy work, or practising music -to which no one listened, and painting water-colour -sketches, at which no one looked. There were three -boys younger than herself, but they were all away, -either at school or college; and the long days passed -by listlessly, for want of something to do that was really -worth the doing. But for her father’s poor patients, -and he had a good many of them, she would have felt -her life to be quite lost.</p> - -<p>It was on a dull, dark day, near the end of November, -with a thick yellow fog pressing close against the -windows, which prevented her from going out, that -she felt particularly disconsolate and weary. Aunt -Brooks was busy about the house, making arrangements -for a thorough cleaning down before Christmas; -but she steadily refused Kate’s offers of help. Secretly -Aunt Brooks was fearful of Dr. Layard finding -out that Kate would make quite as good a housekeeper -as herself; and she shrank from the idea of -going into some little lonely house of her own, where -she could have no more than one little maid to order -about, and no scope at all for her own powers. She -did not think of Kate having no scope for hers. If<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span> -she had, it is quite possible that she would have laid -down her command, and heroically withdrawn to leave -Kate her proper post.</p> - -<p>‘I wish, something would happen to me!’ sighed -Kate, on that dull November morning. At the very -moment a servant brought in a letter, just delivered -by the postman. Kate was not quite sure of the -handwriting; not quite sure. But all at once a -vision of her father’s surgery flashed across her mind, -with a frank, noble, pleasant-looking young man in -her father’s place, giving advice and prescription, and -good-tempered, cheery words to her poor people. It -was Philip Carey, her father’s assistant, who had left -them some months ago. It seemed to Kate that she -had never been dull while he was there. Yes! the -letter was from Philip Carey; it bore his name. A -bright colour flushed up in Kate’s face. If there had -been any one in the room, she would have carried it -away to read it in solitude, although she did not yet -know a single word in it. But she was quite alone, -and no one could see the colour in her cheeks, or the -ready tears that sprang into her eyes, and made the -lines look dim.</p> - -<p>‘I used to fancy sometimes,’ said Philip Carey, -‘that I might win your love; but I never dared to be -sure of it. I was too poor then, and my future was -too uncertain, for me to say how dearly I loved you.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -But now I am appointed the assistant physician at -Lentford Hospital, I think your father would be -satisfied with my prospects. I do not write to him -but to you. If there is any hope for me, if you can -trust your whole happiness to me, write but the one -word “Come,” and I will come over immediately after -my official appointment on the 30th, and speak to Dr. -Layard. If you do not write, I shall understand -your silence.’</p> - -<p>Kate sat, with the letter crushed between her hands, -gazing blissfully into the fire. All the world was -changed, quite suddenly. The day was no longer dull -and dreary. It seemed almost too good to be true. -Philip Carey was the very man to be a physician in the -Lentford Hospital; he was so gentle and considerate -with the poor, and so skilful as well. She recollected -how all her poor people had bewailed and mourned -after him when he went away; and what a pang it -had often been to her, a pang yet a pleasure, to hear -his name so often on their lips. Oh! how good she -must be to make herself good enough for him! She -must be the best doctor’s wife in all Lentford.</p> - -<p>With very unsteady fingers she wrote the one word -‘Come’ as Philip had suggested; and then it occurred -to her that she might catch the morning post, and he -would receive her answer before night. She directed -the envelope in haste, and ran out herself with it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -across the square; dropping it into the letter-box -with her own hands, and looking after it, as one does -sometimes when the letter is a very important one.</p> - -<p>Kate kept her precious secret to herself. Aunt -Brooks was in a rather testy temper, and it was not -easy to begin such a confidential disclosure to her. Dr. -Layard was out all day, and only came in late at night, -worn out and exhausted. Kate rather rejoiced in the -secret being a secret. Everybody would know quite -soon enough; for her letter had reached her on the -28th, and Philip was sure to come over on the 30th, for -Lentford was only ten miles away, and he could ride -to Ilverton as soon as his official appointment was -confirmed.</p> - -<p>Yet it seemed a long time before the 30th came. -Towards the close of the day Kate grew more -agitated in her secret gladness. Philip might come in -at any hour; he knew they dined at six, and Kate -was fully prepared to see him arrive then. But he -did not appear; and the dinner passed very nearly in -silence, for Kate was unable to talk, and Dr. Layard -was tired with his day’s work.</p> - -<p>‘Do you know, Kate,’ he said suddenly, ‘young -Carey is appointed assistant physician at Lentford -Hospital? It’s a splendid opening for so young a man. -But he’s a fine fellow is Carey; I shall be more than -content if one of my boys turns out like him. Ah!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> -Katie, Katie, you should have set your cap at him -when he was here; you’ll never have such a chance -again.’</p> - -<p>The colour mounted to her forehead, and a smile -played about her lips, ready to break into a happy -laugh. If Philip would but come in now!</p> - -<p>‘Don’t put such notions into Kate’s head,’ said -Aunt Brooks, precisely; ‘no well behaved young lady -would think of setting her cap at any one.’</p> - -<p>It was a restless evening for Kate. One hour -after another passed by, and still he did not come. -She went to the window, and opened it impatiently. -She began to wonder if he meant to come in by -the last train, and stay all night. But what would -Aunt Brooks say? And what a strange hour -it would be to begin to talk to her father about -such a subject! She fancied it would take a very -long time to introduce it, and afterwards to discuss -it. But at half-past eleven Kate was compelled -to give up expecting him and go to bed, when the -fever of her new happiness having calmed a little, -she slept profoundly, and dreamed of no trouble.</p> - -<p>But again there followed a morning and evening -of expectation, dogged hour after hour by a strengthening -disappointment. Kate sat moping over the fire, as -Aunt Brooks said, trying to find reasons for Philip’s -absence and silence. The crumpled letter had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> -carefully smoothed out again, and she read it till she -knew every word by heart. But the pride and gladness -died as her heart grew sick with the sickness of hope -deferred. The brief sunshine at last faded quite out -of her life, and left her in deeper darkness than before. -She waited and trusted till she could wait and trust -no longer; and then she gave herself up to the full -sense of her bitter mortification and sorrow.</p> - -<p>There was no one to notice the change except -her father, who was too busy to bestow more than -a passing thought or two to her melancholy face and -fading colour. Her happiness, like Jonah’s gourd, -had sprung up in a night and perished in a night; and -like him she was ready to exclaim, ‘It is better for me -to die than to live.’</p> - -<p>Christmas was near at hand before Kate recovered -at all from her overwhelming sense of wretchedness -and mortification. She was a pitiful and tender-hearted -girl, fond of giving pleasure to others; and -she began to feel as if it was necessary for her own -relief to make this miserable Christmas a time of -pleasure and festivity to some of her poorer neighbours. -If she could not see happiness with her own -eyes, she would like to look at it through other -people’s. It was impossible to remove the heaviness -of her heart, but she might try to lighten others’. So<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span> -one evening when she and her father were alone together, -she approached the subject cautiously.</p> - -<p>‘Father,’ she said, ‘I want to make somebody in -the world happier.’</p> - -<p>Her voice was unconsciously very sorrowful. -The burden that was oppressing her had made her -feel that other people had heavy burdens to bear. -She was learning that, in order to bear her own well, -it was necessary to share that of another. Dr. Layard -was distressed by the mournfulness of his daughter’s -tone.</p> - -<p>‘Make somebody happier!’ he repeated; ‘well, it -is easy enough to do that.’</p> - -<p>‘How?’ asked Kate.</p> - -<p>‘Help them,’ answered Dr. Layard; ‘a little -help is worth a deal of pity. Helping people is -a good step towards making them and yourself -happy.’</p> - -<p>‘That is what I want to do,’ said Kate, eagerly. -‘I want you to manage so that I can have some of -your poor patients to tea here, in the large kitchen, -on Christmas Day; it would make them a little bit -happier, I think. I don’t know that it would do -much good, but they would enjoy it, wouldn’t they, -father?’</p> - -<p>‘It would do them good, Kate,’ said Dr. Layard; -‘making people happy sometimes goes before making<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -them good. In the hospital at times we make -our patients as happy as they can be before the -sharp operation; sometimes the sharp operation has -to come first. We’ll try the merry Christmas for -them this year, and then you must do what you can -for them afterwards.’</p> - -<p>Aunt Brooks, somewhat unexpectedly, gave a very -gracious assent to Dr. Layard’s proposal, on condition -that Kate took all the trouble of preparing for the -guests, and entertaining them when they came. It -made her busy enough for two or three days, and she -tried to throw all her sad heart into it.</p> - -<p>‘Kate,’ said Dr. Layard, on Christmas Eve, ‘we -have forgotten one of our old favourites, who has -not been here for months. You recollect old Mrs. -Duffy, who used to go about with a basket of bobbins -and tapes? Of all my poor patients, she ought to be -present at your <i>soirée</i>.’</p> - -<p>Dr. Layard persisted in calling the intended tea-party -Kate’s <i>soirée</i>, and had taken an unusual interest -in it. She was feeling more sorrowful than ever, this -Christmas Eve, when everybody seemed so absurdly -gay. She was wearing her dowdiest dress; and she -found it difficult to get up a smile when her father -spoke of the <i>soirée</i>. How different it would have been -if Philip Carey had been true to her!</p> - -<p>‘Can I find Mrs. Duffy this evening?’ she asked,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span> -willing to escape from her sad thoughts for a little -time.</p> - -<p>‘Easily,’ said Dr. Layard; ‘she lives in Wright’s -Court, out of New Street, the last house but two on -your left hand, I think. Anybody would tell you -where it is. If you are frightened, take Bob with you.’</p> - -<p>It was a dark night when Kate started out, without -Bob, for she was not frightened; she was too miserable -to be frightened. The passing relief she had -felt in making her arrangements for her Christmas -tea-party was spent, and the universal merriment only -served to deepen her own loneliness and disappointment. -The streets were full and noisy, but not disorderly. -The church bells were ringing in anticipation -of the coming day, and a general holiday tone was -diffused through the crowd, though business was going -on briskly. Groups of little children were gathering -round the brilliant shop-windows, choosing impossible -Christmas presents for themselves and each other from -the magnificent display within, and laughing with -pathetic mirth at their own daring dreams. Kate -caught herself wondering if she should ever laugh at -her own vanished dream.</p> - -<p>Wright’s Court was not a good specimen of street -architecture and paving. The houses were as low as -they could be to boast of two stories, and the pavement -was eccentric, making it necessary to take each -step with great caution. An open gutter ran down<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> -the middle, and through the passage which formed the -entrance; a passage four feet wide and twenty feet -long, dimly lighted by one lamp in the street, which -shone behind Kate as she walked up it, and threw her -shadow bewilderingly before her. The court itself had -no light but that which came through the uncurtained -windows of the dwellings on each side, through which -she caught glimpses of startling phases of English life, -before she reached Mrs. Duffy’s door, where she stood -a minute or two in the dark, looking through the small -panes of the casement close beside it.</p> - -<p>It was a very little kitchen, but quite large enough -for the furniture it contained. There was an old box -under the window, and one shelf against the wall, -holding all Mrs. Duffy’s china and plate. The only -chair, and a tiny table standing on three thick legs, -were drawn up to the fireplace, in which a few coals -were burning. Two old tin candlesticks and a flat-iron -adorned the chimneypiece, and Kate saw, with -a slight prick of her conscience, for she had not cared -to decorate the house at home, that a bit of holly had -been stuck into each candlestick, as well as into every -other pane of the little window. Mrs. Duffy herself -was seated in the chair, apparently amusing herself -with a pantomime of taking tea, for there was -a black teapot and a cracked cup and saucer on the -table, but there was no food upon it, and when she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -held the teapot almost perpendicularly only a few -drops fell from the spout. She put it down, and -looked placidly into the embers, shaking her head a -little from time to time, but gently, as if more in remembrance -of the past than in reproach of the present. -She was a clean, fresh-looking old woman, with no -teeth, and her cheeks formed a little ball, like a withered -rosy apple, between her hollow eyes and sunken -mouth.</p> - -<p>‘The Lord love you, my dear,’ said Mrs. Duffy, -when Kate went in, and delivered her message, ‘and -the good doctor, too. It isn’t everybody as has such -friends as me—on a Christmas Eve, too, when a body -feels so lonesome wi’out friends. I don’t mind so -much on working days, my dear, but one wants friends -of a holiday like-Christmas. One can work wi’out -friends; but one can’t love wi’out friends.’</p> - -<p>‘No, indeed!’ said Kate, with a profound sigh.</p> - -<p>‘And I’ve got such good friends!’ continued Mrs. -Duffy, triumphantly; ‘there’s one as gave me sixpence, -and another threepence, and another twopence, only -this morning. That came up to elevenpence; so I’ve -bought my Christmas joint, just like other folks, you -know. You’d maybe like to see my Christmas joint -like other folks, shouldn’t you, my dear?’</p> - -<p>‘I should very much,’ answered Kate.</p> - -<p>The Christmas joint was evidently a very precious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> -possession, for it had been laid carefully between a -plate and a basin, and these were well tied up in a -ragged cloth, and put out of the way of any marauding -cat. Kate’s eyebrows went up a good deal, and her -eyelids smarted a little as if with coming tears, when -she saw it. It was a morsel of coarse beef, which would -not have covered the old woman’s hand, but which she -regarded with unconcealed satisfaction and delight.</p> - -<p>‘That cost sevenpence,’ she said, ‘and I bought two -pennyworth of greens, and a twopenny loaf to eat with -it—me and a friend of mine, as is coming to dine with -me. It’s a very poor lame girl as lives down the court; -very poor, indeed, so I asked her to come and help to -eat my Christmas joint, which is exceedingly pleasant -to me. The neighbour next door has promised to -lend me a chair; we’re all so friendly one with another.’</p> - -<p>‘Then if you have a visitor you must bring her -with you to tea,’ said Kate, ‘and any children you -have. Haven’t you got any sons or daughters? -You’d enjoy yourself more with them there.’</p> - -<p>‘Bless your kind heart all the same,’ answered -Mrs. Duffy, her cheerful face overcast for a moment; -‘I never had more than one bonny boy, and he went -off to Australy nigh upon thirty years ago. My -Johnny he was. Sometimes I think as I shall never -see him again. I was thinking of him when your -knock came to the door. He was going on for twenty;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> -and I was a strong woman of forty then. I doubt -whether Johnny ’ud know his poor old mother again if -he did come back.’</p> - -<p>‘How long is it since you heard from him?’ -enquired Kate.</p> - -<p>‘I never heard from him at all,’ said Mrs. Duffy, -in a matter-of-course tone; ‘he couldn’t write, and I -couldn’t write. But he went to Australy, and he is in -Australy now, if he hasn’t tumbled off. I can’t help -thinking at times he must ha’ tumbled off, though the -flies never do tumble off the ceiling. I’ve watched -’em for hours and hours together, thinking of my -Johnny, and no fly never tumbled off yet. They have -to walk with their heads downwards in Australy, like -them flies; but my Johnny wasn’t brought up to it, -and I’m afeard for him at times.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, no, he couldn’t tumble off,’ said Kate, laughing -a little; ‘but are you sure you would know him yourself, -Mrs. Duffy, after thirty years?’</p> - -<p>‘Can a mother forget her own boy?’ asked the -old woman; ‘ay, ay; I should know my Johnny -among a thousand, or tens of thousands. I’ll be glad -to bring my friend with me to-morrow, and many -thanks to you for asking her. I’ve got to go out into the -country to sing a carril or two at a farm-house, where -they’re always very good to me; but that’ll be afore -dinner; and we’ll come punctual to your house at five<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -o’clock, me and my friend; and a merry Christmas -and a happy New Year to every one of us, and you -above all, my dear.’</p> - -<p>‘A miserable Christmas, and an unhappy New -Year it will be for me,’ thought Kate; but she did -not say it. Mrs. Duffy insisted upon lighting her -down the court with her only candle, which guttered -and wasted terribly in the night wind; and the last -glance she had of the kindly, withered old face was -lit up by its flickering flame at the entrance of the -dark passage.</p> - -<p>Very early in the morning, long before the Christmas -sun was ready to show itself, Mrs. Duffy roused -up to the fact that if she was to sing a ‘carril’ a mile -and a half away in the country, it was time to set out. -Even her hard heap of rags and straw, with the thin, -scanty blanket she had been shivering under all night, -were more attractive to her at seventy years of age -than the long, lonely walk, through lanes deep down -between high hedgerows, with cartruts filled with -mingled mud and ice. But she was of a brave and -grateful heart, and after a short prayer for herself and -everybody, uttered before quitting the feeble warmth -of her bed, she sallied out into the chill frostiness of -the coming dawn. Up and down the street she heard -the shrill voices of children chanting some Christmas -ditty; and she thought of Johnny when he was a boy,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -with his yellow hair, and round, red face, turning out -all eagerness and hope on a Christmas morning, and -singing in a voice which could not fail to rouse the -most determined sleeper.</p> - -<p>‘He came home once with three shillings and twopence -halfpenny, all in ha’pence,’ thought Mrs. Duffy, -wiping away a tear from the sunken corner of her eye.</p> - -<p>It was a wearisome walk to the farm-house; but -as soon as she had reached the porch, and lifting up -her quavering voice, began, ‘God rest you, merry -gentlefolk, Let nothing you dismay,’ the door was -flung open quickly, and she was called in, and set before -such a breakfast as she had not seen for years. -Poor old Mrs. Duffy’s heart was very full, and before -she could swallow a morsel, she said in a slow and -tremulous voice: ‘I can’t think what’s come to folks -this year. It’s like them blessed Christmases we shall -have when everybody’s friends, when the lion is friends -with the lamb, and the cockatrices with the babies. -Here’s Dr. Layard’s daughter asked me to tea, and -I’ve got a Christmas joint, and now there’s such a -breakfast as I never see before, and me done nothing -for it. I can’t think what’s come to folks; but it’s a -blessed Christmas, it is.’</p> - -<p>‘You’ll sing your carol for us better after breakfast,’ -said the farmer’s wife, ‘and my husband’s father -has given me a shilling for you.’</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>Mrs. Duffy shed a few very blissful tears, and after -breakfast sang two or three carols, with as much zeal -and energy as though they were sure to bring down -many blessings on the hospitable roof. It was a little -after nine o’clock when she left the house; but there -was the Christmas dinner to cook, and it was necessary -to go home early for that. She bade them good-by, -and took her way joyously across the fields lying in -winter-fallow, through which there was a nearer way -back to the town.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Duffy was just turning out of the fields into -the high road, when a man suddenly started up from -behind the hedge, and laid his hand roughly on her -shoulder. He was a big, heavy-looking fellow, in the -ordinary dress of a labourer; and he seemed, even at -that early hour, to be half stupefied with drink. She -looked into his coarse face, with a feeling of terror -which was new to her.</p> - -<p>‘I want a shilling off you,’ he said, fiercely.</p> - -<p>‘A shilling!’ she cried, ‘where should a poor -woman like me have a shilling from?’</p> - -<p>‘Haven’t you got a shilling?’ he demanded.</p> - -<p>Poor Mrs. Duffy had prided herself all her life on -never having told a lie. She looked up and down the -road, but there was not a creature in sight; and she -glanced again hopelessly into the man’s savage and -stupid face. What should she do? To part with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> -the shilling just given to her would be a very great -loss; and she knew it would only be spent in the -nearest public-house. Should she be doing very -wrong to deny having one? It was the first time for -years that she had had a whole silver shilling about -her; and any moment during that time she could have -replied ‘No’ boldly and truthfully. Might she not say -‘No’ just this once?</p> - -<p>‘Haven’t you got a shilling?’ he repeated, shaking -her shoulder roughly.</p> - -<p>‘Well,’ she said, feebly, ‘I haven’t had a shilling -ever so long; but I have got one now. I’m a very -poor old woman, my good young man. If I’d got a -penny, I’d give it you, and welcome.’</p> - -<p>‘I must have your shilling,’ he said, doggedly.</p> - -<p>‘I can’t give it you, indeed,’ she answered; ‘there’s -my rent, and coals, and other things; and I’m very -poor. You’d only drink it.’</p> - -<p>She had scarcely finished speaking, when she saw -the stranger produce a pistol from under his jacket, -and point it at her. There was a sudden flash before -her eyes, and she felt a keen pain; then she fell down -without feeling or consciousness under the hedge-bank -on the high road. A few minutes later, Dr. Layard’s -brougham was stopping at a toll-gate just outside the -town, when a labouring man, who was striding swiftly -past, spoke a few words to the driver. Dr. Layard<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> -was inside, with Kate, who was going out with him to -see her godfather, a clergyman in the next parish. -The doctor, having finished what he had to say to -the gatekeeper, inquired what the labourer had said -in passing.</p> - -<p>‘He says there’s a woman up the road, who’s been -shot, sir,’ answered the servant, ‘and he says to me, -“Look sharp after her, she’s an old woman, and very -poor.”’</p> - -<p>‘Shot!’ exclaimed Dr. Layard; ‘drive on then, -quickly. Katie, don’t be frightened. Gate, look after -that fellow who has just gone through.’</p> - -<p>The last order was shouted through the window, -as the carriage rolled rapidly away. In a few minutes -they gained the spot where the old woman was lying -as one dead, under the leafless hedge, with the blood -staining the thin shawl which was wrapped about her. -Her old wrinkled face had lost all its apple-red, and -her grey hair, scanty and short, had fallen down from -under her white cap. Both Dr. Layard and Katie -exclaimed in one breath, ‘Mrs. Duffy!’</p> - -<p>Kate was not wanting in nerve, though she felt a -little shaken, and exceedingly troubled. She left the -carriage, and sat down on the bank, supporting Mrs. -Duffy in her arms, while Dr. Layard made a brief -examination of the wounds in the poor old neck and -shoulder. His expression was very grave, and he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -stood for a few moments deliberating silently, with his -eyes fastened upon the deathlike face of Mrs. Duffy, -and the pretty, anxious face of his daughter.</p> - -<p>‘Is it dangerous?’ asked Kate, falteringly.</p> - -<p>‘Almost fatal,’ he answered; ‘within a touch of -death. There’s one chance. I’m thinking of driving -straight to Lentford Hospital. It’s a good level road -all the way, and the hospital is at this end of the -town. If you get into the brougham first, I can lift -the old woman, and place her in an easy posture -against you. Could you hold her pretty much as you -are now for an hour or more? I’d do it myself; but -you could not lift her in as I shall do. Are you strong -enough?’</p> - -<p>‘I will be strong enough; I will do it,’ said Kate, -lifting up her head with determination and endurance -in every line of her face.</p> - -<p>It did not occur to Dr. Layard that his carriage -was a new one, handsomely lined and fitted up; but -the servant’s soul ran more upon such subjects, and -he began to protest against lifting the wounded and -bleeding woman into it. Such a very miserable old -creature, too, thought Bob, not a bit of a lady.</p> - -<p>‘Dolt! idiot! brute!’ ejaculated Dr. Layard, in -high wrath; and Bob, who had only uttered half his -protest, shut his mouth, and was silent.</p> - -<p>It seemed a very long time to Kate, though the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> -carriage bowled rapidly along the smooth, straight old -Roman road. Poor Mrs. Duffy gave no sign of life, -but lay against her heavily, with her grey head resting -upon Kate’s shoulder. She held her as tenderly as -she could, now and then clasping her warm fingers -about her wrist, which was knotted and brown with -age and hard work, but which gave no throb back to -Kate’s touch. Dr. Layard, who rode outside with -Bob, looked round from time to time, nodding to her, -but with so grave a face that she felt the case was -very serious. She thanked God fervently when the -spires of Lentford came in sight, and the last notes of -the morning chimes fell upon her ear. There were -streams of people going to church, exchanging cheery -salutations with one another; but many a person -caught a glimpse of Kate’s pale and agitated face, and -the grey head lying against her neck, and felt a shadow -pass over their own Christmas gladness.</p> - -<p>Dr. Layard’s carriage drove into the courtyard of -the hospital, and then Kate was quickly relieved of -her burden. Mrs. Duffy was carried away, and Dr. -Layard followed her. Kate sat there, anxious and -troubled, while the clock in the nearest church tower -struck one quarter after another, and Bob drove up -and down at a snail’s pace in dreary and monotonous -turns. At length some one beckoned to him from the -hospital portico, and Bob responded with an alacrity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> -which betrayed his impatience. Kate only saw at the -last moment that it was Dr. Carey, not her father, -who had summoned him; and she shrank back, -breathless and tremulous, into the corner of the carriage -which concealed her best from him.</p> - -<p>‘Bob, your master says you must drive home,’ said -Dr. Carey; ‘he will return by train in the afternoon.’</p> - -<p>‘And the old woman, sir?’ said Bob, ‘how’s she -going on?’</p> - -<p>‘Very little hope,’ answered Philip Carey, whose -face Kate could not see, but whose voice made every -nerve thrill.</p> - -<p>‘Is it murder?’ asked Bob, who had known Dr. -Carey as his master’s assistant, and stood on very -little ceremony with him.</p> - -<p>‘I’m afraid so,’ he said; ‘how are they all at home, -Bob? Miss Brooks and Miss Kate?’</p> - -<p>‘She’s in there,’ said Bob, pointing with his thumb -to the carriage. Kate roused herself to lift up her -head with dignity, sit erect upon her seat, and meet -Dr. Carey’s salutation calmly. It was nearly four weeks -since he had written to her, and she had replied, -‘Come.’ He looked at her with an amazed and confused -expression, and took off his hat, but did not -attempt to speak. Both of them coloured, and both -bowed stiffly and in silence. Then Philip Carey, still -bareheaded, and as if lost in thought, walked slowly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -back up the broad steps of the portico, and Kate cried -most of the way home.</p> - -<p>‘I never saw anything like that,’ thought Bob; -‘and they used to be like brother and sister, almost.’</p> - -<p>It was late in the afternoon when Dr. Layard returned, -and then he had to see the superintendent -of police. The stranger who had passed through the -toll-gate had not yet been found; but he could not be -far off, and Bob was ready to swear to him when he -was taken. Kate’s Christmas party passed off more -successfully because one of the invited guests had been -almost murdered on the highway. The news ran like -wildfire through the town and neighbourhood, and the -farmer’s wife came to tell of Mrs. Duffy’s morning -visit, and her cheerful carols just before the villain -met her. She and Kate mingled their tears together -over the recital, and Kate ended her miserable Christmas -by going to bed with a very heavy heart.</p> - -<p>The next day the stranger was found and sworn -to by Bob, though he flatly denied having been anywhere -in the direction of the toll-bar. Neither Dr. -Layard nor the toll-man could swear to him, as he had -passed on the farther side of the carriage while they -were talking at the other window. He was an utter -stranger in the neighbourhood, without friends, and he -stated that he was on the tramp. A very old pistol -was found in a ditch near the spot where Mrs. Duffy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> -had been shot. The man was sent in safe custody to -Lentford, to be brought face to face with the old -woman, if she should recover consciousness enough -to identify him and give her evidence against him.</p> - -<p>For twenty-four hours or more it continued very -doubtful whether the poor old creature would ever -rally. She had not spoken since she had been found, -but she lay perfectly tranquil and patient on her -hospital bed. Now and then a gleam of a smile, like -the momentary glimmer of the sun on a cloudy day -crossed her face, and her lips moved slightly, as if she -were whispering. She knew when they were doing -anything for her, for she tried to help herself, to raise -her thin hand, or turn her grey head upon the pillow -for them to see her neck. Dr. Carey, who had -known her in former days, spent as much time as he -could beside her bed; and towards the close of the -day, just before the night nurse was coming to take -her turn, he heard her voice speaking articulately but -very slowly and faintly, and he stooped over her to -listen to what she said.</p> - -<p>‘Dr. Layard’s daughter! Dr. Layard’s daughter!’ -she murmured.</p> - -<p>‘Would you like to see Dr. Layard’s daughter?’ -asked Philip Carey, in his clearest and most pleasant -tone.</p> - -<p>‘Ay, ay,’ whispered the old woman.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>‘To-morrow you shall,’ he said; ‘it is too late -now. To-morrow.’</p> - -<p>‘Ay, ay,’ she assented, cheerfully.</p> - -<p>‘You will be better to-morrow,’ he suggested.</p> - -<p>‘No, no,’ murmured the old woman. ‘He shot -me dead because I wouldn’t give him my shilling. -He robbed me.’</p> - -<p>‘There’s a shilling wrapped up in a bit of blue -sugar-paper in your pocket,’ said Dr. Carey. A -sparkle of satisfaction shone upon the poor drawn -face, and then Mrs. Duffy fell quietly asleep.</p> - -<p>She was certainly somewhat better in the morning, -and watching the people who were about her; her mind -was clear, and she evidently knew her circumstances, -where she was, and what had happened to her. Before -noon Dr. Layard and Kate arrived; and Mrs. Duffy’s -sunken blue eyes brightened, yet filled with tears, as -she looked up into their faces bending pityingly above -her.</p> - -<p>‘Well, old friend,’ said Dr. Layard, heartily, ‘you -are better already. We are going to pull you through, -you’ll see, Carey and me. We know what a tough -old lady you are. Carey used to play you some -tricks in the old times, and now he’ll make it up -to you by pulling you through. Won’t you, Carey?’</p> - -<p>Kate had not seen him enter the ward, and now -she sat down, feeling weak and tremulous, on a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -chair at Mrs. Duffy’s head, keeping her eyes fixed -upon the old woman’s face. Dr. Carey’s voice sounded -oddly in her ears, as if he was speaking in very loud -and constrained tones.</p> - -<p>‘I am going to do my best,’ he said, ‘but you -must keep yourself quite still now, Mrs. Duffy, and -get up your strength to tell the magistrate your story. -You are a brave old woman, and won’t be afraid; -and I’ll tell them you never told a lie in your life.’</p> - -<p>Mrs. Duffy smiled, but did not speak. She had -not spoken yet, but she stretched out her hand, and -tried to turn towards Kate. Dr. Carey seemed to -understand her meaning perfectly.</p> - -<p>‘You want Dr. Layard’s daughter to sit where you -can see her?’ he said. ‘You want her to stay with -you?’</p> - -<p>‘Ay, ay,’ she answered. ‘God bless her!’</p> - -<p>It was Philip Carey who moved Kate’s chair, and -placed it in a convenient position for old Mrs. Duffy -to see her. She glanced at him once, but his eyes -were downcast, and his aspect very solemn. He bade -one of the nurses bring her a footstool, and then he -and her father went away, and old Mrs. Duffy, smiling -now and then, closed her eyes and seemed to fall into -a doze.</p> - -<p>It was a very quiet hour for Kate. The ward -was a small one, containing only four beds, and no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> -other patient in it. The nurses were busy, and had -all gone away, leaving her alone. A wintry sunshine -was falling through the farthest window upon -the bare white walls. Her mind was strangely divided -between Mrs. Duffy and Philip Carey, whose life -was spent mostly within these walls. He had spoken -so kindly, even affectionately, to this poor, friendless -old woman, but he had not spoken a word to her. -How was it that he could be so fickle, so cruel towards -her? What reason or motive could possibly have -made him change his mind so suddenly and so dishonourably, -and plunge her into so much wretchedness -and perplexity? She could not bear to meet -him, yet she would have to bear it, for her father was -so fond of him. How proud and happy her father -would have been in him as his son in-law! It was -too hard even to think of. Perhaps she would even -have the misery some day of seeing his wife, the girl -who had supplanted her, and made her life a blank. -For Kate felt sure that it would be impossible for her -ever to love another man. No one else could be to -her what Philip Carey had been.</p> - -<p>The hour passed away, and there were several -quiet signs of excitement. Dr. Layard and Dr. Carey -came in, felt the old woman’s pulse, and gave her a -cordial. Kate was told that if she could be calm she -had better remain where she was, as Mrs. Duffy held<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> -her hand closely, and wished her to stay. Three or -four strange gentlemen came in, and stood about the -bed, while Mrs. Duffy, in very feeble tones, told her -story, which was written down, word for word, from -her lips. She had not much to say, and it was soon -over.</p> - -<p>‘Could you identify the individual?’ inquired the -magistrate’s clerk.</p> - -<p>‘Should you know the man again?’ asked Dr. -Carey, who was standing close to Kate, and near old -Mrs. Duffy.</p> - -<p>‘Ay, to be sure,’ she answered, with more energy -than she had displayed before.</p> - -<p>‘He has been taken;’ said Dr. Layard; ‘that is, -a man has been taken up, and we think he is the man. -You must see him yourself.’</p> - -<p>The old woman shuddered, and grasped Kate’s -hand tightly. It might have been Dr. Carey’s hand, -for he seemed conscious of the close grasp, and -answered to it.</p> - -<p>‘Come, come,’ he said, encouragingly, ‘you never -used to be a coward; and you have only to open your -eyes, and look at him. You have plenty of friends -about you, you know.’</p> - -<p>‘He’s a dreadful man,’ she said, in a whisper, ‘but -let him come.’</p> - -<p>Kate herself felt a strong thrill of excitement, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -she listened to the regular tramp of the policeman, -and the shambling tread of the murderer, coming -down the bare boards of the ward. The old woman had -closed her eyes, as if to gather strength for the dreadful -detective gaze. Dr. Carey laid his hand on the back -of Kate’s chair, so close to her it almost touched her -shoulder, and one of her brown curls fell upon it. The -footsteps came on to the side of the bed, and stopped -there. Kate turned her head and took one frightened -glance. The murderer was a middle-aged man, -with a full, heavy, red face, and light hair just turning -grey, not a vicious-looking man on the whole; he might -have been a decent, honest, creditable fellow, but for -the drinking habits which had brutalised him. He was -looking down at the wounded old woman with an air -half sorrowful and half ashamed; but a little sullen -also, as a boy looks when caught in some fault. The -policeman at his right hand was the only sign to -mark him out as a criminal; and he seemed as much -on the alert as if he expected him to make a second -murderous attack on the old woman in her bed. For -a minute or two all were silent in the room. Mrs. -Duffy’s eyelids were closed, and her lips moved as if -in prayer. She looked up at last; and her dim blue -eyes, which were full of terror, like those of a child -who wakes frightened, changed like those of a child,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> -when it sees that the face bending over it is a familiar -face.</p> - -<p>‘Why,’ she cried, in a voice at once firm and glad, -‘it’s my boy! It’s my Johnny!’</p> - -<p>Her wrinkled features began to work with emotion, -and she was about to raise herself up to stretch -out her arms to him, but Dr. Carey was quick enough -to prevent her. He threw himself on his knees at -Kate’s feet, and laid his strong arm gently across the -old woman. Every one else stood motionless and -thunderstruck. The man himself did not stir hand -or foot.</p> - -<p>‘That’s my son as went to Australy,’ continued -Mrs. Duffy; ‘please let him come and kiss me. -Don’t you know your poor old mother again, Johnny?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, mother! mother!’ exclaimed the man, -striking his hard hands together, ‘that’s my mother -sir, as I came back to, and was looking for. I hadn’t -seen her these thirty years, and she’s nothing like the -woman she was. You’ll let me go and kiss her, -maybe?’</p> - -<p>He had spoken to the policeman next to him, -and his official eye was softened; but the magistrates -were there, and the indulgence was not his to -grant.</p> - -<p>‘Is this the person who attempted first to rob -and then to murder you?’ asked the magistrate’s -clerk.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>‘Oh, dear no! it’s my boy,’ said the old woman; -‘he’d never shoot at his mother, bless you! It was -quite a different man, not him; a dreadful man. -That’s the boy I nursed, and taught him his prayers. -He’d never lift up his hand agen me; please let him -go.’</p> - -<p>There was no question in Mrs. Duffy’s mind as -to whether she was telling the truth or not. Her -gladness was so great that her mind utterly refused -the incredible and impossible idea that her own son -could have thought of robbing and murdering her. -If he had been brought before her red-handed with -her blood, she would still have believed herself mistaken. -It was some ruffian and monster who had shot -her, not her son. As for him, his heavy, bloodshot -eyes were filled with tears, and his voice, as he began -to speak, was choked and husky.</p> - -<p>‘Sir,’ he said, addressing no one in particular, -‘she’s not like the same woman, but she’s my mother. -She had brown hair, and was very strong. I never -thought of her being like that. I wish I’d kept free -from drink. Nobody knows what drink’ll bring him -to. She’s my mother; and I came back to work -for her, if she were still alive. I’ll never taste a drop -again as long’s I live.’</p> - -<p>‘Hush, hush!’ said Dr. Layard, coming behind -him, and tapping him on the shoulder; ‘hold your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -tongue, my good fellow. You’ll make your mother -worse again if you talk. There’s a good chance for -her if she’s kept quiet.’</p> - -<p>The magistrates and their clerk walked away to -the end of the ward, and held a short consultation -there. There was not much doubt that this man was -the right man; but there was no one to bring home -the crime to him, except his mother. Bob, Dr. Layard’s -servant, swore positively that he was the man -who told him a woman was lying in the road murdered; -but the woman herself denied that it was he -who had attacked her. To be sure there was more -than sufficient reason for her to do so, but if she persisted -in it, what was to be done?</p> - -<p>‘You must remember you are upon your oath,’ -said the elder magistrate, ‘and probably upon your -deathbed. Now look at this man carefully, and tell -me if he is not the man who shot at you.’</p> - -<p>Mrs. Duffy gazed earnestly at her son, smiling -more and more, until her pale, shrunken face grew -radiant with happiness.</p> - -<p>‘Why, it couldn’t be him,’ she said, ‘how could it? -Ay, ay; I could swear it were never him; my Johnny. -Please let him stay aside of me for a bit. The police -may stop for him if you like; but he’d never do it.’</p> - -<p>‘Carey and I will be bail for him, if it’s necessary,’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span> -said Dr. Layard, ‘only let the poor fellow shake -hands with his mother. There, let him go.’</p> - -<p>The man seemed to slip suddenly from the policeman’s -grasp, and sunk down on his knees at his -mother’s feet, hiding his face in the bed-clothes, and -sobbing till the bed shook under him. All the time -his mother’s eyes were shining upon him, and her -arms, still kept firmly down by Dr. Carey, were -trembling to touch him.</p> - -<p>The magistrates and their retinue went their way, -leaving Mrs. Duffy with her son, while Kate and -Philip Carey stood by, a little aloof from them, and -from each other. The man crept closer and closer -to his mother, till his hot and heavy face rested upon -her hand. There was a deep silence in the ward. -Outside in the corridor, through the half open door, -could be seen the policeman, still waiting for final -orders.</p> - -<p>‘Mother,’ sobbed out Duffy, in a smothered and -faltering voice, ‘can you forgive me?’</p> - -<p>‘Why! there’s nothing to forgive, Johnny,’ she -said, ‘and I’m so happy, I’d forgive everybody. I’d -forgive the raskill as shot me. I have forgive him -already, Johnny.’</p> - -<p>‘I want you to get well, mother,’ he said, with -desperate earnestness, ‘and I’ll make it all up to you.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> -I’m come back to work for you, and indeed, I’ll work. -Will you forgive me, mother?’</p> - -<p>‘Forgive you, Johnny!’ she murmured, ‘it’s a -easy thing to forgive a body when you love a body.’</p> - -<p>The last words dropped faintly, syllable by syllable, -from the old woman’s white lips, and Kate’s heart -sank like lead. The withered face had grown paler, -and the wrinkled eyelids closed slowly over the filmy -blue eyes. Kate uttered a low cry of trouble, and -Philip Carey turned quickly towards her.</p> - -<p>‘Is she going to die, Philip?’ asked Kate.</p> - -<p>‘She is very faint,’ he replied, ‘She has been too -much excited, but she may rally yet. Go and send -me a nurse, and do not return yourself.’</p> - -<p>Kate walked softly down the ward, the tears -falling fast from her eyes. She was no longer grieving -over her own troubles, but for the hopeful, cheery, -brave old woman, who had met her long-lost son -again in such a manner, and at such a moment as -this. She waited in the matron’s parlour until a -message was brought to her that Mrs. Duffy was -sleeping again, with her son watching and waiting -beside her. Then she returned home with her father.</p> - -<p>‘I’ve not the shadow of a doubt Duffy’s the man,’ -shouted Dr. Layard to her, above the noise of the -train; ‘but the thing cannot be brought home to him. -The old woman is as true as truth itself, but she is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> -labouring under a delusion. She no more believes -that her son was the man who shot at her than I believe -that you did it. I question whether she would -believe Duffy himself if he owned it to her, which he -must not do. I’ve told him so. I said, “Duffy, I feel -pretty sure you are the villain that did it, and if she -dies I’ll do my best to prove it. But never you tell -your mother it was yourself; it would go far to break -her heart.” And he said, “I’ll never speak a word -about it, one way or the other, sir.” Oh! Duffy did it!’</p> - -<p>‘Do you think she will die?’ asked Kate.</p> - -<p>‘Carey will do his best for her,’ said Dr. Layard; -‘I never saw such a change in a young fellow as there -is in Carey. He is as dull as a beetle; just when he -has got all he has been striving for, too! I don’t understand -it.’</p> - -<p>Kate believed she understood it, but she kept -silence. It was not likely he could feel happy and -at ease in her presence or her father’s if he had a -spark of feeling; and he certainly possessed a good -deal of feeling. She had caught his eye once during -the strange interview round Mrs. Duffy’s bed, and -they had looked at one another with a sympathy -which had seemed at the moment the most natural -thing in the world. She had called him Philip, too! -How her cheeks burned at the very recollection. She -wished she had preserved to the end an icy dignity of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span> -manner towards him; but she had altogether forgotten -herself, and it had been a happier moment than -she had felt for these four weeks past. Perhaps utter -forgetfulness of self is the only real happiness.</p> - -<p>The next morning Kate was once more sitting -alone before the fire in the breakfast-room, with nothing -particular to do, until it was time to start for -Lentford once more, when the servant brought in a -large official-looking cover, with the words ‘Dead -Letter Office’ printed upon it, and addressed ‘Miss -Kate Layard, Ilverton.’ It was the first time in her -life that Kate had ever received such an ominous-looking -packet. She opened it with some trepidation, -and drew from it her own brief note to Philip Carey, -written four weeks before. The envelope bore several -postmarks upon it, with directions to try one town -after another—Liverpool, then Manchester, then London—but -it was several minutes before she discovered -how it had all happened. Her own handwriting lay -before her eyes, or she could never have believed it: -she had directed her letter to ‘Dr. Carey, Everton -Square, Liverpool.’</p> - -<p>How Kate had come to write Liverpool instead -of Lentford she could never understand. It was -true Philip had gone to Liverpool after leaving -Ilverton, but how stupid of her to make such a dreadful -mistake! Then he, too, had been passing through<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> -as miserable a time as herself. He must have come -to the conclusion that she did not care for him, and -that she had not even the grace to thank him for the -love he had bestowed upon her in vain. What could -he have thought of her? It must have been a pain -to him. She would make it up to him in some -way.</p> - -<p>Kate’s brain was in a whirl all the way to -Lentford. She walked up the broad steps of the -hospital portico like one in a dream. The fat -porter, in his handsome livery, nodded pleasantly -at her; and the students, hurrying along the broad -corridors, took off their hats to Dr. Layard’s pretty -daughter. She had to pass by a recess as large as -a good-sized room, with benches round and across -it, upon which were seated rows of poor patients, -waiting humbly for their turn to go in and see the -doctor. The doorkeeper had just opened the door an -inch or two, and Kate saw Philip Carey’s face, grave -and care-worn, listening to a poor woman who was -just going away by another entrance. She laid her -hand upon the arm of the patient who was going in, -and passed on into the room instead. ‘Philip,’ she -said, her face flushing at his look of amazement, ‘I -am only going to stay one moment. I have been so -miserable. I wrote this four weeks ago.’</p> - -<p>‘Wrote what?’ he asked, clasping the hand with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span> -which she offered him the misdirected letter, and -holding both closely.</p> - -<p>‘I only wrote “Come,”’ stammered Kate, the -tears starting into her eyes, ‘and I thought—oh, I -don’t know what I thought! I directed it to Liverpool -instead of Lentford, and it’s been wandering -about ever since. Do you understand?’</p> - -<p>‘Do you mean you will be my wife?’ he asked.</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ she answered.</p> - -<p>They had only three minutes to themselves. -Three minutes was the time allotted for each case, -and as it expired the door was opened again an inch -or two to see if the doctor was ready for the next -patient. Dr. Carey led Kate to the other door, and -dismissed her with a glance which set her heart -beating fast with happiness. She mounted the long -flight of stairs and entered the ward where Mrs. -Duffy was lying as if she trod on air. The old -woman was resting very comfortably in bed, her eyes -calm and bright, and a faint streak of the old apple-red -beginning to show itself upon her cheek. The -good chance for her recovery was a still better one -this morning.</p> - -<p>‘He’s coming back again this morning,’ she -whispered in Kate’s ear; ‘they let him stay beside -me all yesterday, and he’s coming back again to-day. -It’s a beautiful Christmas this is; I never knew one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> -like it. I hope they’ll never catch that poor raskill -as shot me, I do. It ’ud spoil my Christmas and -Johnny’s if they did. Has it been a happy Christmas -for you, my dear?’</p> - -<p>‘Very happy,’ answered Kate, with a bright smile, -as the present joy blotted out the remembrance of the -past sorrow.</p> - -<p>‘That’s right, my dear!’ murmured Mrs. Duffy, -‘I don’t know as ever I knew such a Christmas.’</p> - -<p>There is little more to be told. Dr. Carey made -his appearance at Dr. Layard’s that evening, and -delighted him beyond measure by asking him for -Kate. Mrs. Duffy recovered and lived two or three -years longer in undisturbed happiness, and in a -degree of comfort to which she had been unaccustomed -throughout her life. For her son, who had -not prospered much in Australia, worked industriously -and steadily to maintain her at home, and -devoted himself to her with real tenderness. It was -not till after her death, when Kate Carey was standing -beside her coffin looking down at the placid face and -closed eyes of the old woman, that he told the story -of his return home.</p> - -<p>‘I’d worked my passage across, ma’am,’ he said, -the tears rolling down his cheeks, ‘and I’d landed in -Liverpool a week afore Christmas, with as much as -five pound in my pocket, all I’d saved in Australy;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> -and there were a lot set on me, and took me to a -public, and I suppose I drank all my wits away. I -reached Ilverton by the last train on Christmas Eve, -but I didn’t know as mother were gone to live in -the town. It were a bitter night, and I slept on a -bench at the railway station. I hadn’t a penny left, -when I set out to seek mother; and I were wandering -about very miserable, when I saw a decent old -woman coming along all alone. I only thought I’d -frighten a shilling out of her. I never meant no -harm. The pistol were an old pistol I’d had in the -bush; and I didn’t recollect it was loaded, and it -went bursting off, all in an instant of time. That -quite brought me to, and I were running away to find -somebody, when I see you and the doctor coming. -I seemed to know it were a doctor. But when I -found out it were my own poor old mother, which I -did face to face with her in the hospital, I felt as I -should die. She never knew as it were me, never. -She used to talk about him, and say, “I forgave him, -Johnny, and I hope God has forgave him too, whoever -he is.” I shall never see another woman like my -poor old mother.’</p> - - -<p class="center"> -LONDON: PRINTED BY<br /> -SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE<br /> -AND PARLIAMENT STREET</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">WORKS by HESBA STRETTON</span>,</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Author of ‘Jessica’s First Prayer.’</span></p> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/bennetts.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><b>I. CASSY.</b> Twenty-fourth Thousand. With Six Illustrations. 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Crown 8vo.</p> - -<p>The lives have been chosen to represent marked varieties of -character, and their operation under different forms of effort. Success -is here viewed in no narrow or merely commercial sense.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘The little volume is precisely of the stamp to win the favour of those who, in choosing -a gift for a boy, would consult his moral development as well as his temporary pleasure.’—<i>Daily -Telegraph.</i></p> - -<p>‘A readable and instructive volume.’—<i>Examiner.</i></p> - -<p>‘A good book which will, we hope, meet well-deserved success.’—<i>Spectator.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p> </p> - -<p class="center"><b>Works by CHARLES CAMDEN.</b></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><b>I. HOITY, TOITY, THE GOOD LITTLE FELLOW.</b> -With Eleven Illustrations. Crown 8vo.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘Relates very pleasantly the history of a charming little fellow who meddles always -with a kindly disposition with other people’s affairs, and helps them to do right. There -are many shrewd lessons to be picked up in this clever little story.’—<i>Public Opinion.</i></p> - -<p>‘Another of those charming books which Mr. Charles Camden knows so well how to -produce.’—<i>Leeds Mercury.</i></p> - -<p>‘Original, faithful, and humorous story.’—<i>Manchester Examiner.</i></p> -</div> - -<p> </p> - -<p><b>II. THE TRAVELLING MENAGERIE.</b> With Ten Illustrations -by <span class="smcap">J. Mahoney</span>. Crown 8vo.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘A capital little book ... deserves a wide circulation among our boys and girls.’—<i>Hour.</i></p> - -<p>‘A very attractive story.’—<i>Public Opinion.</i></p> - -<p>‘A series of admirable tales in which boys will take the deepest interest.’—<i>Leeds -Mercury.</i></p> - -<p>‘Will be sure to delight young readers; they will get from it much useful knowledge of -natural history. The story is told in a pleasant, chatty style.’—<i>Standard.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><b>PRETTY LESSONS IN VERSE FOR GOOD CHILDREN</b>; -with some Lessons in Latin, in Easy Rhyme. By <span class="smcap">Sara -Coleridge</span>. A New Edition. Illustrated.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘Both in English and Latin they will pleasantly help little folk through what has been -called “the bitterness of learning.”’—<i>Saturday Review.</i></p> - -<p>‘This is a most delightful, and, let us add, a most sensible book for children. It -teaches us many a good moral, many a good common-sense lesson, in its rhymes, which -are, for the most part, very musical to the ear.’—<i>Standard.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>THE DESERT PASTOR, JEAN JAROUSSEAU.</b> By -Colonel <span class="smcap">E. P. De L’Hoste</span>. Translated from the French of Eugène -Pelletan. In fcp. 8vo. with an Engraved Frontispiece. New Edition.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘There is a poetical simplicity and picturesqueness; the noblest heroism; unpretentious -religion; pure love, and the spectacle of a household brought up in the fear of the -Lord.’—<i>Illustrated London News.</i></p> - -<p>‘It is a touching record of the struggles in the cause of religious liberty of a real -man.’—<i>Graphic.</i></p> - -<p>‘It is difficult to imagine any class of persons to whom this little book will not prove -attractive.’—<i>London Quarterly.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p> </p> - -<p class="center"><b>Works by MARTHA FARQUHARSON.</b></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p> -<span class="indent"><b>I. ELSIE DINSMORE.</b> Crown 8vo.</span><br /> -<span class="indent2"><b>II. ELSIE’S GIRLHOOD.</b> Crown 8vo.</span><br /> -<b>III. ELSIE’S HOLIDAYS AT ROSELANDS.</b> Crown 8vo.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘We do not pretend to have read the history of Elsie as she is portrayed in three -different volumes. By the help, however, of the illustrations, and by dips here and there, -we can safely give a favourable account.’—<i>Westminster Review.</i></p> - -<p>‘Elsie Dinsmore is a familiar name to a world of young readers. In the above three -pretty volumes her story is complete, and it is one full of youthful experiences, winning -a general interest.’—<i>Athenæum.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><b>THE DESERTED SHIP.</b> A Real Story of the Atlantic. By -<span class="smcap">Cupples Howe</span>, Master Mariner. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Townley Green</span>. -Crown 8vo.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘Curious adventures with bears, seals, and other Arctic animals, and with scarcely -more human Esquimaux, form the mass of material with which the story deals, and will -much interest boys who have a spice of romance in their composition.’—<i>Edinburgh -Courant.</i></p> - -<p>‘It is full of that continual succession of easily apprehended, yet stirring events, which -please a boy, more than any other quality.’—<i>Edinburgh Daily Review.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>THE LITTLE WONDER-HORN.</b> By <span class="smcap">Jean Ingelow</span>. A -Second Series of ‘Stories told to a Child.’ With Fifteen Illustrations. -Square 24mo.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘We like all the contents of the “Little Wonder-Horn” very much.’—<i>Athenæum.</i></p> - -<p>‘We recommend it with confidence.’—<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p> - -<p>‘Full of fresh and vigorous fancy; it is worthy of the author of some of the best of -our modern verse.’—<i>Standard.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>GUTTA-PERCHA WILLIE, the WORKING GENIUS.</b> -By <span class="smcap">George MacDonald</span>. With Nine Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Arthur -Hughes</span>. Second Edition. Crown 8vo.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘The cleverest child we know assures us she has read this story through five times. -Mr. MacDonald will, we are convinced, accept that verdict upon his little work as final.’—<i>Spectator.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>PLUCKY FELLOWS.</b> A Book for Boys. By <span class="smcap">Stephen J. -MacKenna</span>. With Nine Illustrations. Second Edition. Crown 8vo.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘This is one of the very best “Books for Boys” which have been issued this year.’—<i>Morning -Advertiser.</i></p> - -<p>‘A thorough book for boys ... written throughout in a manly, straightforward -manner, that is sure to win the hearts of the children.’—<i>London Society.</i></p> -</div> - -<p> </p> - -<p><b>LITTLE MINNIE’S TROUBLES</b>: an Every-day Chronicle. -By <span class="smcap">N. R. D’Anvers</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">W. H. Hughes</span>. Fcp. 8vo.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p><b>THE AFRICAN CRUISER.</b> A Midshipman’s Adventures on -the West Coast. By <span class="smcap">S. W. Sadler</span>, R.N., Author of ‘Marshall -Vavasour.’ A Book for Boys. With Nine Illustrations. Second -Edition. Crown 8vo.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘A capital story of youthful adventure.... Sea-loving boys will find few pleasanter -gift-books this season than “The African Cruiser.”’—<i>Hour.</i></p> - -<p>‘Sea yarns have always been in favour with boys, but this, written in a brisk style by -a thorough sailor, is crammed full of adventures.’—<i>Times.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>SEEKING HIS FORTUNE, and other Stories.</b> Crown -8vo. With Four Illustrations.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Contents</span>:—Seeking his Fortune—Oluf and Stephanoff—What’s -in a Name?—Contrast—Onesta.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘These are plain, straightforward stories, told in the precise detailed manner which we -are sure young people like.’—<i>Spectator.</i></p> - -<p>‘They are romantic, entertaining, and decidedly inculcate a sound and generous moral.... -We can answer for it that this volume will find favour with those for whom it is -written, and that the sisters will like it quite as well as the brothers.’—<i>Athenæum.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>SEVEN AUTUMN LEAVES FROM FAIRYLAND.</b> -Illustrated with Nine Etchings.</p> -</div> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Contents</span>:—</p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - -<tr><td>Mermaid.</td><td> Specklesides.</td></tr> -<tr><td>Little Hans.</td><td> Black Sneid.</td></tr> -<tr><td>Dimple.</td><td> Little Curly.</td></tr> -<tr><td>The Two Princes.</td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="center"><b><i>HENRY S. KING & CO.’S SERIES OF FIVE-SHILLING<br /> -BOOKS FOR JUVENILES.</i></b></p> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><b>MIKE HOWE, THE BUSHRANGER OF VAN DIEMEN’S -LAND.</b> By <span class="smcap">James Bonwick</span>. Crown 8vo. With a -Frontispiece.</p> - - -<p>This story, although a work of fiction, is a narrative of facts as to the -leading incidents of the Bushranger’s career. The tale may therefore -be regarded as a contribution to Colonial Literature.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘He illustrates the career of a bushranger half a century ago; and this he does in a -highly creditable manner. His delineations of life in the bush are, to say the least, exquisite, -and his representations of character are very marked.’—<i>Edinburgh Courant.</i></p> -</div> - -<p> </p> - -<p><b>THE TASMANIAN LILY.</b> By <span class="smcap">James Bonwick</span>. Crown 8vo. -With Frontispiece.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘An interesting and useful work.’—<i>Hour.</i></p> - -<p>‘The characters of the stories are capitally conceived, and are full of those touches -which give them a natural appearance.’—<i>Public Opinion.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p> </p> - -<p class="center"><b>Two Works by DAVID KER.</b></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><b>I. THE BOY SLAVE IN BOKHARA.</b> A Tale of Central -Asia. Crown 8vo. With Illustrations.</p> - - -<p>In this work real scenes are grouped round an imaginary hero; -genuine information is conveyed in a more attractive form than that of -a mere dry statistical report.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘Ostap Danilevitch Kostarenko, the Russian who is supposed to relate the story, has -a great number of adventures, and passes, by dint of courage and ability, from a state of -slavery to one of independence. Will prove attractive to boys.’—<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p> - -<p>‘Exciting boy’s story, well told and abounding in incidents.’—<i>Hour.</i></p> - -<p>‘Full of strange adventures ... well worked out to the end.’—<i>Standard.</i></p> - -<p>‘An attractive boy’s book. He claims to have grouped real scenes round an imaginary -hero.’—<i>Spectator.</i></p> -</div> - -<p> </p> - -<p><b>II. THE WILD HORSEMAN OF THE PAMPAS.</b> -Crown 8vo. Illustrated.</p> - - -<p class="right">[<i>Just out.</i></p> -</div> -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><b>RAMBLES AND ADVENTURES OF OUR SCHOOL -FIELD CLUB.</b> A Book for Boys. By <span class="smcap">G. C. Davies</span>.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p><b>FANTASTIC STORIES.</b> By <span class="smcap">Richard Leander</span>. Translated -from the German by <span class="smcap">Paulina B. Granville</span>. With Eight full-page -Illustrations by <span class="smcap">M. E. Fraser-Tytler</span>. Crown 8vo.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘Short, quaint, and, as they are fitly called, fantastic, they deal with all manner of -subjects.’—<i>Guardian.</i></p> - -<p>‘“Fantastic” is certainly the right epithet to apply to some of these strange tales.’—<i>Examiner.</i></p> - -<p>‘Amusing tales by one who took part in the general siege of Paris.’—<i>Standard.</i></p> - -<p>‘“The Knight who grew Rusty” is a delightful story, but “The Queen who could -not make gingerbread nuts, and the King who could not play on the Jew’s harp,” will -probably be the children’s favourite.’—<i>Daily News.</i></p> -</div> - -<p> </p> - -<p><b>THE GREAT DUTCH ADMIRALS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Jacob De Liefde</span>. -Crown 8vo. With Eleven Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Townley Green</span> and -others.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘A wholesome present for boys.’—<i>Athenæum.</i></p> - -<p>‘A really good book.’—<i>Standard.</i></p> - -<p>‘A really excellent book.’—<i>Spectator.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>HER TITLE OF HONOUR</b>: a Book for Girls. By <span class="smcap">Holme -Lee</span>. New Edition. Crown 8vo. With a Frontispiece.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘It is unnecessary to recommend tales of Holme Lee’s, for they are well known, and -all more or less liked. But this book far exceeds even our favourites, not perhaps as a -story, for this is of the simplest kind, but because with the interest of a pathetic story is -united the value of a definite and high purpose; and because, also, it is a careful and -beautiful piece of writing, and is full of studies of refined and charming character.’—<i>Spectator.</i></p> - -<p>‘It contains a vast amount of admirable and happy teaching, as valuable as it is rare.’—<i>Standard.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>AT SCHOOL WITH AN OLD DRAGOON.</b> By <span class="smcap">Stephen -J. MacKenna</span>. Crown 8vo. With Six Illustrations.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘Consisting almost entirely of startling stories of military adventure.... Boys will -find them sufficiently exciting reading.’—<i>Times.</i></p> - -<p>‘These yarns give some very spirited and interesting descriptions of soldiering in -various parts of the world.’—<i>Spectator.</i></p> - -<p>‘Mr. MacKenna’s former work, “Plucky Fellows,” is already a general favourite, and -those who read the stories of the Old Dragoon will find that he has still plenty of -materials at hand for pleasant tales, and has lost none of his power in telling them well.’—<i>Standard.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>WAKING AND WORKING; OR, FROM GIRLHOOD -TO WOMANHOOD.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">G. S. Reaney</span>. With a -Frontispiece. Crown 8vo.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘A good tale—good in composition, good in style, good in purpose.’—<i>Nonconformist.</i></p> - -<p>‘The story is of a very attractive character. Its purpose is a good and important -one.’—<i>Rock.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>SLAVONIC FAIRY TALES.</b> From Russian, Servian, Polish, -and Bohemian Sources. By <span class="smcap">John T. Naake</span>, of the British Museum. -With Four Illustrations. Crown 8vo.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘A most choice and charming selection.... The tales have an original national -ring in them, and will be pleasant reading to thousands besides children. Yet children -will eagerly open the pages, and not willingly close them, of the pretty volume.’—<i>Standard.</i></p> - -<p>‘English readers now have an opportunity of becoming acquainted with eleven -Polish and eight Bohemian stories, as well as with eight Russian and thirteen Servian, -in Mr. Naake’s modest but serviceable collection of Slavonic Fairy Tales. Its contents -are, as a general rule, well chosen, and they are translated with a fidelity which deserves -cordial praise.... Before taking leave of his prettily got up volume, we ought to -mention that its contents fully come up to the promise held out in its preface.’—<i>Academy.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>STORIES IN PRECIOUS STONES.</b> By <span class="smcap">Helen Zimmern</span>. -With Six Illustrations. Third Edition. Crown 8vo.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘A series of pretty tales which are half fantastic, half natural, and pleasantly quaint, -as befits stories intended for the young.’—<i>Daily Telegraph.</i></p> - -<p>‘A pretty little book which fanciful young persons will appreciate, and which will remind -its readers of many a legend, and many an imaginary virtue attached to the gems -they are so fond of wearing.’—<i>Post.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><b>THE BETTER SELF.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. Hain Friswell</span>. Essays for -Home Life. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Contents</span>:—</p> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - -<tr><td>Beginning at Home</td><td> Pride in the Family</td><td> Likes and Dislikes</td></tr> -<tr><td>The Girls at Home</td><td> Discontent and Grumbling </td><td> On Keeping People Down</td></tr> -<tr><td>The Wife’s Mother </td><td> Domestic Economy</td><td> On Falling Out Peace</td></tr> -</table> - - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘A high conception, but never severe nor morose; the spirit is as sound and wholesome -as it is noble and elevated.’—<i>Standard.</i></p> - -<p>‘A really charming volume of Essays, which gives good advice without becoming a -bore.’—<i>City Press.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>BY STILL WATERS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edward Garrett</span>. A Story for -Quiet Hours. Crown 8vo. With Seven Illustrations. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘We have read many books by Edward Garrett, but none that has pleased us so well -as this. It has more than pleased; it has charmed us.’—<i>Nonconformist.</i></p> - -<p>‘Mr. Garrett is a novelist whose books it is always a pleasure to meet. His stories -are full of quiet, penetrating observations, and there is about them a rare atmosphere of -not unpleasing meditative melancholy.’—<i>Echo.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>BEATRICE AYLMER, AND OTHER TALES.</b> By -<span class="smcap">Mary M. Howard</span>, Author of ‘Brampton Rectory.’ Crown 8vo. -6<i>s.</i></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘These tales possess considerable merit.’—<i>Court Journal.</i></p> - -<p>‘A neat and chatty little volume.’—<i>Hour.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>OUR PLACE AMONG INFINITIES.</b> By <span class="smcap">Richard A. -Proctor</span>, B.A., Author of ‘Saturn and its Systems,’ ‘The Universe,’ -‘The Expanse of Heaven,’ &c. To which are added, ‘Essays on -Astrology’ and ‘The Jewish Sabbath.’ Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> </p> - -<p><b>THE EXPANSE OF HEAVEN.</b> A Series of Essays on the -Wonders of the Firmament. By <span class="smcap">Richard A. Proctor</span>, B.A. -With a Frontispiece. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘A very charming work; cannot fail to lift the reader’s mind up “through nature’s -work to nature’s God.”’—<i>Standard.</i></p> - -<p>‘Full of thought, readable, and popular.’—<i>Brighton Gazette.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>PHANTASMION.</b> A Fairy Romance. By <span class="smcap">Sara Coleridge</span>. -With an Introductory Preface by the Right Hon. Lord <span class="smcap">Coleridge</span>, -of Ottery S. Mary. A new Edition. In 1 vol. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - - -<p>This book, of which the first edition was limited to 250 copies, was -long out of print, and as now revived appeals to a larger audience and -a new generation. They will find in this delicate imagination, melody -of verse, clear and picturesque language, and virginal purity of conception.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>‘The readers of this fairy tale will find themselves dwelling for a time in a veritable -region of romance, breathing an atmosphere of unreality, and surrounded by supernatural -beings.’—<i>Morning Post.</i></p> - -<p>‘This delightful work.... We would gladly have read it were it twice the length, -closing the book with a feeling of regret that the repast was at an end.’—<i>Vanity Fair.</i></p> - -<p>‘A beautiful conception of a rarely gifted mind.’—<i>Examiner.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>ECHOES OF A FAMOUS YEAR.</b> By <span class="smcap">Harriett Parr</span>. -Crown 8vo. 8<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - - -<p>The story of the Franco-Prussian War, 1870-71, told mainly for the -young, but, it is hoped, possessing permanent interest as a record of -the great struggle.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘Miss Parr has the great gift of charming simplicity of style; and if children are -not interested in her book, many of their seniors will be.’—<i>British Quarterly Review.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p> </p> -<p class="center">HENRY S. KING & CO., London.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph1">POETICAL GIFT BOOKS.</p> -</div> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><b>LYRICS OF LOVE</b>, from Shakespeare to Tennyson. Selected -and arranged by <span class="smcap">W. Davenport Adams</span>, Jun. Fcap. 8vo. cloth -extra, gilt edges, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>The present work differs from previous collections of the kind in these -particulars: (1) That it consists entirely of short lyric poems. (2) That -each poem exhibits some phase of the tender passion, and (3) That it -includes specimens of the genius of the latest as well as of the earliest -writers.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p><b>HOME SONGS FOR QUIET HOURS.</b> By the Rev. Canon -<span class="smcap">R. H. Baynes</span>, Editor of ‘Lyra Anglicana,’ &c. Second Edition. -Fcap. 8vo. Cloth extra, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - - -<p>A Collection of Hymns and Sacred Songs for the help and solace of the -various members of Christ’s Church Militant here on earth.</p> - - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘A tasteful collection of devotional poetry of a very high standard of excellence. -The pieces are short, mostly original, and instinct, for the most part, with the most ardent -spirit of devotion.’—<i>Standard.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>POEMS.</b> By <span class="smcap">William Cullen Bryant</span>. Red-line Edition. Handsomely -bound. With 24 Illustrations and Portrait of the Author. -7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - - -<p>A Cheaper Edition, with Frontispiece. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - - -<p>These are the only complete English Editions sanctioned by the Author, -and they contain several of the Author’s Poems which have not appeared in -any previous Collection.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘Of all the poets of the United States there is no one who obtained the fame and -position of a classic earlier, or has kept them longer than William Cullen Bryant.’—<i>Academy.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>ENGLISH SONNETS.</b> Collected and Arranged by <span class="smcap">John Dennis</span>. -Fcap. 8vo. Elegantly bound. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - - -<p>This Collection of Sonnets, arranged chronologically from the Elizabethan -to the Victorian era, is designed for the students of poetry, and not only -for the reader who takes up a volume of verse in order to pass away an -idle hour. The Sonnet contains, to use the words of Marlowe, ‘infinite -riches in a little room.’</p> - - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘An exquisite selection, a selection which every lover of poetry will consult again and -again with delight. The notes are very useful.... The volume is one for which English -literature owes Mr. Dennis the heartiest thanks.’—<i>Spectator.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p> </p> -<p class="center">HENRY S. KING & CO., London.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph1"><i>W. C. BENNETT’S POEMS. NEW EDITIONS.</i></p> -</div> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">A Library Edition.</span> Crown 8vo. Illustrated, cloth 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><b>BABY MAY</b>—HOME POEMS and BALLADS. People’s Edition, -in Two Parts, paper covers, 1<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘One of the most popular of our poets. Let us say that every mother -ought to learn “Baby May” and “Baby’s Shoes” off by heart.’—<i>Westminster Review.</i></p> - -<p>‘The love of children few poets of our day have expressed with so -much naïve fidelity as Dr. Bennett.’—<i>Examiner.</i></p> - -<p>‘Those readers who do not as yet know “Baby May” should make -her acquaintance forthwith; those who have that pleasure already will find -her in good company.’—<i>Guardian.</i></p> - -<p>‘Many a tender thought and charming fancy find graceful utterance in -his pages.’—<i>Athenæum.</i></p> - -<p>‘“Baby’s Shoes” is worthy to rank with “Baby May,” which, from -its completeness and finished charm as a picture of infancy, is one of the -most exquisite among Dr. Bennett’s productions.’—<i>Daily Telegraph.</i></p> - -<p>‘Some of his poems on children are among the most charming in the -language, and are familiar in a thousand homes.’—<i>Weekly Dispatch.</i></p> -</div> -<p> </p> - -<p><b>SONGS FOR SAILORS.</b> Cloth gilt, Illustrated, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; paper -covers, 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>‘Spirited, melodious, and vigorously graphic’—<i>Morning Post.</i></p> - -<p>‘Very spirited.’—<i>Daily News.</i></p> - -<p>‘Really admirable.’—<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p> - -<p>‘Right well done.’—<i>Illustrated London News.</i></p> - -<p>‘Sure of a wide popularity.’—<i>Morning Advertiser.</i></p> - -<p>‘Songs that sailors most enjoy.’—<i>Echo.</i></p> - -<p>‘Full of incident and strongly expressed sentiment.’—<i>Examiner.</i></p> - -<p>‘We may fairly say that Dr. Bennett has taken up the mantle of -Dibdin.’—<i>Graphic.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p> </p> -<p class="center">HENRY S. KING & CO., London.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="ph2">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> - - - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> -</div></div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO CHRISTMAS STORIES: SAM FRANKLIN'S SAVINGS-BANK; A MISERABLE CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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