diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-22 21:08:59 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-22 21:08:59 -0800 |
| commit | ad8a1dcdf542a913f67ea46ff9bccee49686ec0c (patch) | |
| tree | db920c90233a48bc413e2342641d386e3f79854f /65830-h | |
| parent | 82e35b6f2c858850202b41b7a07b1aa69c5c483d (diff) | |
As captured January 23, 2025
Diffstat (limited to '65830-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 65830-h/65830-h.htm | 6343 |
1 files changed, 2938 insertions, 3405 deletions
diff --git a/65830-h/65830-h.htm b/65830-h/65830-h.htm index 3b3c6d6..74b97b9 100644 --- a/65830-h/65830-h.htm +++ b/65830-h/65830-h.htm @@ -1,3405 +1,2938 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
- "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
-<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
- <head>
- <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" />
- <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
- <title>
- Two Christmas Stories, by Hesba Stretton—A Project Gutenberg eBook
- </title>
- <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" />
- <style type="text/css">
-
-body {
- margin-left: 10%;
- margin-right: 10%;
-}
-
- h1,h2 {
- text-align: center;
- clear: both;
-}
-
-p {
- margin-top: .51em;
- text-align: justify;
- margin-bottom: .49em;
-}
-
-
-div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;}
-div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;}
-
-hr {
- width: 33%;
- margin-top: 2em;
- margin-bottom: 2em;
- margin-left: 33.5%;
- margin-right: 33.5%;
- clear: both;
-}
-
-hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;}
-hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;}
-@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} }
-
-
-div.chapter {page-break-before: always;}
-h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;}
-
-
-table {
- margin-left: auto;
- margin-right: auto;
-}
-
-
-
-
-.pagenum {
- position: absolute;
- left: 92%;
- font-size: smaller;
- text-align: right;
- font-style: normal;
- font-weight: normal;
- font-variant: normal;
-}
-
-.blockquot {
- margin-left: 10%;
- margin-right: 10%;
-}
-
-.bbox {
- margin: auto;
- width: 600px;
- height: 400px;
- padding: 10px;
- border: 2px solid; }
-
-.center {text-align: center;}
-
-.right {text-align: right;}
-
-.indent {padding-left: 0.75em;}
-.indent2 {padding-left: 0.35em;}
-
-.gap {padding-left: 7em;}
-.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;}
-
-
-.caption {font-weight: bold; text-align: center;}
-
-.xxlarge {font-size: 200%;}
-.xlarge {font-size: 150%;}
-
-.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;}
-.ph2 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;}
-.floatright {margin-left: 25em;}
-
-.figcenter {
- margin: auto;
- text-align: center;
- page-break-inside: avoid;
- max-width: 100%;
-}
-
-p.drop-cap {
- text-indent: -0.2em;
-}
-
-p.drop-cap:first-letter
-{
- float: left;
- margin: 0.15em 0.1em 0em 0em;
- font-size: 250%;
- line-height:0.55em;
- text-indent: 0em;
-}
-@media handheld
-{
- p.drop-cap {
- text-indent: 0em;
- }
- p.drop-cap:first-letter
- {
- float: none;
- margin: 0;
- font-size: 100%;
- }
-}
-
-
-.poetry-container {text-align: center;}
-.poetry {display: inline-block; text-align: left;}
-.poetry .verse {text-indent: -2.5em; padding-left: 3em;}
-
-.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA;
- color: black;
- font-size:smaller;
- padding:1em;
- margin-bottom:5em;
- margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;
- font-family:sans-serif, serif; }
-
- </style>
- </head>
-<body>
-
-<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Two Christmas Stories: Sam Franklin's Savings-Bank; A Miserable Christmas and a Happy New Year, by Hesba Stretton</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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 <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. Square
-crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p>
-
-<div class="blockquot">
-<p>‘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.’—<i>Nonconformist.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘It is very fresh and simple. We thank Miss Stretton for another treat, as real to
-grown-up people as to children.’—<i>Church Herald.</i></p>
-</div>
-
-<p> </p>
-<p><b>II. THE KING’S SERVANTS.</b> With Eight Illustrations.
-Thirtieth Thousand. Square crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center">
-Part I. Faithful in Little.<span class="gap">Part II. Unfaithful.</span><br />
-Part III. Faithful in Much.</p>
-
-
-
-<div class="blockquot">
-<p>‘The language is beautifully simple, the stories are touchingly told, and the religious
-purpose constantly kept in view.’—<i>Watchman.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘An interesting story.’—<i>Church News.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘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.’—<i>Freeman.</i></p>
-</div>
-
-
-<p> </p>
-<p><b>III. LOST GIP.</b> Forty-third Thousand. With Six Illustrations.
-Square crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p>
-
-
-<div class="blockquot">
-
-<p>‘Prettily told.... Will be a favourite with young people.’—<i>Echo.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘One of the most simply touching tales we ever read.’—<i>Brighton Gazette.</i></p>
-</div>
-
-
-<p> </p>
-<p><b>IV. THE WONDERFUL LIFE.</b> Eighth Thousand. Fcp. 8vo.
-2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p>
-
-<p>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.</p>
-
-<div class="blockquot">
-
-<p>‘A well-written and concise narrative, which describes the wonderful story with a
-forcible simplicity that will appeal to all readers.’—<i>Hour.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘Will be very useful in the more advanced classes of the Sunday-school, and is also
-suitable for a Sunday-school prize.’—<i>Church Review.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘The story is presented in a plain and attractive manner.’—<i>Rock.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘It is invaluable.’—<i>Sunday-School Quarterly Journal.</i></p>
-</div>
-
-<p> </p>
-<p class="center">HENRY S. KING & CO., London.</p>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p class="center"><b>A LIST OF</b></p>
-
-
-<p class="ph1">HENRY S. KING & CO.’S</p>
-
-<p class="center">BOOKS SUITABLE FOR</p>
-
-<p class="ph1">CHILDREN’S PRESENTS AND PRIZES.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<div class="blockquot">
-<p><img src="images/asterism.jpg" alt="" /> <i>HENRY S. KING & CO.’S GENERAL CATALOGUE,
-comprising works on Theology, Science, Biography, History,
-Education, Travel, Commerce, and Fiction, will be sent gratis
-on application.</i></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-<div class="blockquot">
-
-<p><b>SUNBEAM WILLIE, AND OTHER STORIES</b>, for
-Home Reading and Cottage Meetings. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">G. S. Reaney</span>.</p>
-
-
-
-<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Containing</span>:—</p>
-
-<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table">
-<tr><td>‘Little Meggie’s Home,’ </td><td> ‘Sermon in Baby’s Shoes,’</td></tr>
-<tr><td>‘Aggie’s Christmas,’</td><td> ‘Lina.’</td></tr>
-</table>
-
-
-
-<p>Small square, uniform with ‘Lost Gip,’ &c. Three Illustrations.
-Price 1<i>s</i>. 6<i>d.</i></p>
-
-<p> </p>
-
-<p><b>DADDIE’S PET.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Ellen Ross</span> (‘Nelsie Brook’). A
-Sketch from Humble Life. Square crown 8vo. uniform with ‘Lost
-Gip.’ With Six Illustrations. 1<i>s.</i></p>
-
-<div class="blockquot">
-<p>‘We have been more than pleased with this simple bit of writing.’—<i>Christian World.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘Full of deep feeling and true and noble sentiment.’—<i>Brighton Gazette.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘A very pretty tale.’—<i>John Bull.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘A pretty little story for children.’—<i>Scotsman.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘An exceedingly pretty little story.’—<i>Literary Churchman.</i></p>
-</div>
-<p> </p>
-
-<p><b>LOCKED OUT</b>: A Tale of the Strike. By <span class="smcap">Ellen Barlee</span>. With
-a Frontispiece. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p>
-
-<div class="blockquot">
-<p>‘Beautifully written ... should be bought by all means for parochial libraries,
-whether in country or in town.’—<i>Literary Churchman.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘Well written.’—<i>Edinburgh Courant.</i></p>
-</div></div>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="center"><b><i>HENRY S. KING & CO.’S THREE-AND-SIXPENNY SERIES of<br />
-BOOKS for JUVENILES.</i></b></p>
-
-
-<p class="center">Works by the Author of ‘St. Olave’s,’ ‘When I was a Little Girl,’ &c.</p>
-
-<div class="blockquot">
-
-<p><b>I. AUNT MARY’S BRAN PIE.</b> Illustrated.</p>
-
-<div class="blockquot">
-<p>‘A bright story for children.’—<i>Globe.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘The stories are exceedingly good.’—<i>Nonconformist.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘Capital stories.’—<i>Hour.</i></p>
-
-<p>‘This is a very amusing book for children; one of the best books of the season.’—<i>Literary
-World.</i></p>
-</div>
-
-<p> </p>
-
-<p><b>II. SUNNYLAND STORIES.</b> Fcp. 8vo. Illustrated.</p>
-
-<p> </p>
-
-<p><b>BRAVE MEN’S FOOTSTEPS.</b> A Book of Example and
-Anecdote for Young People. By the Editor of ‘Men who have Risen.’
-With Four Illustrations by <span class="smcap">C. Doyle</span>. Third Edition. 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
-of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
-Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
-concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
-and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
-the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
-of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
-copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
-easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
-of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
-Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may
-do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
-by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
-license, especially commercial redistribution.
-</div>
-
-<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br />
-<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br />
-PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span>
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
-distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
-(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
-Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
-Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
-www.gutenberg.org/license.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'>
-Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
-electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
-and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
-(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
-the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
-destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your
-possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
-Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
-by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
-or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
-used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
-agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
-things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
-even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
-paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
-Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this
-agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™
-electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
-Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
-of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual
-works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
-States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
-United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
-claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
-displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
-all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
-that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting
-free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™
-works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
-Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily
-comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
-same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when
-you share it without charge with others.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
-what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
-in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
-check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
-agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
-distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
-other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no
-representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
-country other than the United States.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
-immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear
-prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work
-on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
-phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
-performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
-</div>
-
-<blockquote>
- <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
- 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 <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>
-</blockquote>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is
-derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
-contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
-copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
-the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
-redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
-Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
-either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
-obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™
-trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted
-with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
-must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
-additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
-will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works
-posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
-beginning of this work.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™
-License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
-work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
-electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
-prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
-active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
-Gutenberg™ License.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
-compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
-any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
-to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format
-other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
-version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website
-(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
-to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
-of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
-Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
-full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
-performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works
-unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
-access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
-provided that:
-</div>
-
-<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'>
- <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'>
- • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
- the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method
- you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
- to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has
- agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
- Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
- within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
- legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
- payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
- Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
- Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
- Literary Archive Foundation.”
- </div>
-
- <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'>
- • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
- you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
- does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
- License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
- copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
- all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
- works.
- </div>
-
- <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'>
- • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
- any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
- electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
- receipt of the work.
- </div>
-
- <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'>
- • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
- distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
-Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
-are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
-from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
-the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
-forth in Section 3 below.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.F.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
-effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
-works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
-Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
-electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
-contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
-or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
-intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
-other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
-cannot be read by your equipment.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
-of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
-Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
-Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
-Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
-liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
-fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
-LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
-PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
-TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
-LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
-INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
-DAMAGE.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
-defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
-receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
-written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
-received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
-with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
-with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
-lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
-or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
-opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
-the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
-without further opportunities to fix the problem.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
-in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
-OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
-LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
-warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
-damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
-violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
-agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
-limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
-unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
-remaining provisions.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
-trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
-providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
-accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
-production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
-electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
-including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
-the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
-or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or
-additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any
-Defect you cause.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'>
-Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
-electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
-computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
-exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
-from people in all walks of life.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
-assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s
-goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will
-remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
-Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
-and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future
-generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
-Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
-Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'>
-Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
-501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
-state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
-Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
-number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
-Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
-U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,
-Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
-to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
-and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'>
-Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
-public support and donations to carry out its mission of
-increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
-freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
-array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
-($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
-status with the IRS.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
-charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
-States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
-considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
-with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
-where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
-DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
-visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
-have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
-against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
-approach us with offers to donate.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
-any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
-outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
-methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
-ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
-donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'>
-Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
-Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be
-freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
-distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of
-volunteer support.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed
-editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
-the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
-necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
-edition.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
-facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,
-including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
-Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
-subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-</body>
-</html>
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + Two Christmas Stories, by Hesba Stretton—A Project Gutenberg eBook + </title> + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + + +div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} +div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + + + + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; +} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.bbox { + margin: auto; + width: 600px; + height: 400px; + padding: 10px; + border: 2px solid; } + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.indent {padding-left: 0.75em;} +.indent2 {padding-left: 0.35em;} + +.gap {padding-left: 7em;} +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + +.caption {font-weight: bold; text-align: center;} + +.xxlarge {font-size: 200%;} +.xlarge {font-size: 150%;} + +.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;} +.ph2 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} +.floatright {margin-left: 25em;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +p.drop-cap { + text-indent: -0.2em; +} + +p.drop-cap:first-letter +{ + float: left; + margin: 0.15em 0.1em 0em 0em; + font-size: 250%; + line-height:0.55em; + text-indent: 0em; +} +@media handheld +{ + p.drop-cap { + text-indent: 0em; + } + p.drop-cap:first-letter + { + float: none; + margin: 0; + font-size: 100%; + } +} + + +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -2.5em; padding-left: 3em;} + +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + padding:1em; + margin-bottom:5em; + margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 65830 ***</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. Square +crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>‘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.’—<i>Nonconformist.</i></p> + +<p>‘It is very fresh and simple. We thank Miss Stretton for another treat, as real to +grown-up people as to children.’—<i>Church Herald.</i></p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p><b>II. THE KING’S SERVANTS.</b> With Eight Illustrations. +Thirtieth Thousand. Square crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p class="center"> +Part I. Faithful in Little.<span class="gap">Part II. Unfaithful.</span><br /> +Part III. Faithful in Much.</p> + + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>‘The language is beautifully simple, the stories are touchingly told, and the religious +purpose constantly kept in view.’—<i>Watchman.</i></p> + +<p>‘An interesting story.’—<i>Church News.</i></p> + +<p>‘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.’—<i>Freeman.</i></p> +</div> + + +<p> </p> +<p><b>III. LOST GIP.</b> Forty-third Thousand. With Six Illustrations. +Square crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>‘Prettily told.... Will be a favourite with young people.’—<i>Echo.</i></p> + +<p>‘One of the most simply touching tales we ever read.’—<i>Brighton Gazette.</i></p> +</div> + + +<p> </p> +<p><b>IV. THE WONDERFUL LIFE.</b> Eighth Thousand. Fcp. 8vo. +2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>‘A well-written and concise narrative, which describes the wonderful story with a +forcible simplicity that will appeal to all readers.’—<i>Hour.</i></p> + +<p>‘Will be very useful in the more advanced classes of the Sunday-school, and is also +suitable for a Sunday-school prize.’—<i>Church Review.</i></p> + +<p>‘The story is presented in a plain and attractive manner.’—<i>Rock.</i></p> + +<p>‘It is invaluable.’—<i>Sunday-School Quarterly Journal.</i></p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">HENRY S. KING & CO., London.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"><b>A LIST OF</b></p> + + +<p class="ph1">HENRY S. KING & CO.’S</p> + +<p class="center">BOOKS SUITABLE FOR</p> + +<p class="ph1">CHILDREN’S PRESENTS AND PRIZES.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><img src="images/asterism.jpg" alt="" /> <i>HENRY S. KING & CO.’S GENERAL CATALOGUE, +comprising works on Theology, Science, Biography, History, +Education, Travel, Commerce, and Fiction, will be sent gratis +on application.</i></p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="tb" /> +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>SUNBEAM WILLIE, AND OTHER STORIES</b>, for +Home Reading and Cottage Meetings. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">G. S. Reaney</span>.</p> + + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Containing</span>:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td>‘Little Meggie’s Home,’ </td><td> ‘Sermon in Baby’s Shoes,’</td></tr> +<tr><td>‘Aggie’s Christmas,’</td><td> ‘Lina.’</td></tr> +</table> + + + +<p>Small square, uniform with ‘Lost Gip,’ &c. Three Illustrations. +Price 1<i>s</i>. 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p> </p> + +<p><b>DADDIE’S PET.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Ellen Ross</span> (‘Nelsie Brook’). A +Sketch from Humble Life. Square crown 8vo. uniform with ‘Lost +Gip.’ With Six Illustrations. 1<i>s.</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>‘We have been more than pleased with this simple bit of writing.’—<i>Christian World.</i></p> + +<p>‘Full of deep feeling and true and noble sentiment.’—<i>Brighton Gazette.</i></p> + +<p>‘A very pretty tale.’—<i>John Bull.</i></p> + +<p>‘A pretty little story for children.’—<i>Scotsman.</i></p> + +<p>‘An exceedingly pretty little story.’—<i>Literary Churchman.</i></p> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p><b>LOCKED OUT</b>: A Tale of the Strike. By <span class="smcap">Ellen Barlee</span>. With +a Frontispiece. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>‘Beautifully written ... should be bought by all means for parochial libraries, +whether in country or in town.’—<i>Literary Churchman.</i></p> + +<p>‘Well written.’—<i>Edinburgh Courant.</i></p> +</div></div> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="center"><b><i>HENRY S. KING & CO.’S THREE-AND-SIXPENNY SERIES of<br /> +BOOKS for JUVENILES.</i></b></p> + + +<p class="center">Works by the Author of ‘St. Olave’s,’ ‘When I was a Little Girl,’ &c.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>I. AUNT MARY’S BRAN PIE.</b> Illustrated.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>‘A bright story for children.’—<i>Globe.</i></p> + +<p>‘The stories are exceedingly good.’—<i>Nonconformist.</i></p> + +<p>‘Capital stories.’—<i>Hour.</i></p> + +<p>‘This is a very amusing book for children; one of the best books of the season.’—<i>Literary +World.</i></p> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<p><b>II. SUNNYLAND STORIES.</b> Fcp. 8vo. Illustrated.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p><b>BRAVE MEN’S FOOTSTEPS.</b> A Book of Example and +Anecdote for Young People. By the Editor of ‘Men who have Risen.’ +With Four Illustrations by <span class="smcap">C. Doyle</span>. Third Edition. 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>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 65830 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |