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diff --git a/old/67809-0.txt b/old/67809-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 99aff16..0000000 --- a/old/67809-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4860 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Climbers, by Lizzie Bates - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Climbers - -Author: Lizzie Bates - -Release Date: April 10, 2022 [eBook #67809] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Juliet Sutherland, David E. Brown, and the Online - Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CLIMBERS *** - - -[Illustration] - - - - - THE CLIMBERS. - - [Illustration] - - PUBLISHED BY THE - AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY - 150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. - - - - -ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by the AMERICAN -TRACT SOCIETY, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the -United States for the Southern District of New York. - - - - -THE CLIMBERS - - - - -I. - - -“It’s of no use, and what’s more, I don’t believe it’s right,” said Mr. -Jeffries, “this filling every boy’s head with thoughts of rising in -the world. It looks all very well in books; but is quite a different -thing in reality. I tell you what, it’s doing a mighty deal of damage -in the world. Why, it’s almost impossible for anybody that wants help -to get any of the right sort. Once find a boy that has any grit in him, -and he’s off as soon as he can scrape up enough money to go to school -with. There’s that stable-boy of mine, as good a little fellow as I’d -ever care to have; but in the room of playing like other boys, when he -has a moment’s leisure, he’s off to the barn with a book in his hand. -I’ve told him many a time ’twould be the ruin of him; but he seems -to take to it as naturally as a duck does to water;” and the little -hotel-keeper looked around complacently. - -“I thought that was the very spirit that was commendable in this -country, Mr. Jeffries,” said I, turning my gaze from the mountain -towering above us to the face of my host. “Hope is the grand incentive -to the American boy, the hope of knowing more, and doing better for -himself and others, than his father and grandfather did before him. -Look around you and see who are the men of the present; ten to one they -are poor men’s sons. They felt that they could do something, and they -accomplished it.” - -“It looks all fair, I allow; but the thing is carried too far; it -makes them discontented and unsteady, changing from one thing to -another. In my opinion, if you want to make any thing in the world, you -must stick to one thing. It is an old saying, ‘A rolling stone gathers -no moss.’” - -“True; but may not these poor boys have a higher aim and purpose, and -carry it out quite as effectually as if it required no changes? Your -stable-boy may have mapped out, vaguely perhaps, his future, and to -reach it must make use of such stepping-stones as come within his -reach. He does his work well, does he not?” - -“Oh, there’s nothing to say against him, only I don’t like to see him -always reading; he can’t go by a newspaper--and my wife keeps them hung -up by the side of the roller--without stopping for a bit, catching as -a hungry horse does at a spear of grass or hay that comes within his -reach. I give him pretty good wages for a boy, and the women folks -patch up his clothes and see that he has plenty to eat. It seems to me -that he ought to be contented and happy, with jests and frolic like the -rest, in the room of being shut up with his book. And then, to cap all, -I went into the barn the other day, and there he was perched up on the -haymow, talking away and making gestures just as the parson does. I -could not keep from laughing, and he came down and skulked away looking -sheepish enough.” - -“You have interested me in this boy, Mr. Jeffries. Who, and what is he? -Where did you find him?” - -“Oh, his father lives up among the mountains, a thriftless, good for -nothing creature, who spends all his earnings in whiskey. The mother -was a delicate ladylike woman; my wife thought a heap of her; and when -she died, she made us both promise to look after her children.” - -Just then a showy carriage was driven round from the stable, and -a sprightly lad jumped quickly down, and stood holding the lines -respectfully while the owner made ready to start. He was a tall, slight -young man, whom I had noticed in the hotel as excessively talkative, -flush with his money, drinking and smoking freely, and interlarding his -conversation with now and then an oath. He came out with a swagger, -followed by a little crowd of idlers. Mr. Jeffries broke off the thread -of conversation, giving the hand of his guest a prolonged shake. - -“Always glad to see you when you come this way, Robinson; you will -always find the bar just the same; I never keep any thing but the best.” - -“That’s a fact; the best mint julep I’ve had in a long time.” - -While the leave-taking was going on, I was eagerly scanning the face of -the stable-boy. My heart ached for him as he stood there, the little -torn straw hat just covering the mass of dark hair, that had apparently -not seen a comb for days, the great heavy locks clustering over a broad -well-formed forehead, above delicately curved eyebrows with long brown -lashes. But the eyes were hidden; I could only imagine what they must -be from the profile of the face, the straight nose, somewhat deep upper -lip, and well-turned chin. Still and straight he stood, and almost as -motionless as though carved out of marble: yet not a dead, passive -statue; his very stillness had a life in it, just as the framework of -machinery is still while the movable parts are running swift as thought -can follow. - -Down the steps and into the buggy the young gentleman passed, and as -the lines were handed him he tossed a silver coin to the stable-boy, -but so carelessly that it glanced from his shoulder, rolled across the -porch and down a crack in the floor before he could stop it. - -“It’s gone, Marston; better luck next time,” said Mr. Jeffries with a -patronizing air. The boy bit his lips, while the eyelids quivered, and -turning on his heel was out of sight in an instant. - -It was not in my heart to talk any more. Life was new to me; I was -myself trying to make my way upward in character and life. Just -through college, my health failed, and I was told to try mountain air -and exercise. My meagre purse would not allow of my gratifying my -benevolent feelings, and still every day there were just such cases -occurring. “Work yourself out” had been my motto. No doubt Marston Howe -would adopt the same. A rough, thorny way he will find; the feet will -become weary, the hands torn and bleeding; still, if he wills he will -succeed. It is better to wear out than to rust out; better be a climber -than a cumberer; and though we seem never fully to attain our desires, -let not the heart grow bitter and misanthropic, moody and uncharitable. -Success is sure if we try for it. Let me whisper this to Marston Howe, -and I have then done him all the good I can. Looking up I saw the -doctor’s buggy coming slowly round the curve of the mountain, and a -moment after it drew up, while a kindly face looked out. “How is this -invalid of mine? Almost ready to go home?” - -“Nearly ready, doctor,” and my eye caught sight of the stable-boy with -his pail of water for the doctor’s horse. - -“That’s right, Marston,” said Mr. Jeffries; “the doctor’s horse don’t -like to pass here without something,” but the doctor did not notice -the hint. - -“You are fond of books,” I said to Marston as he held the pail for the -horse to drink; “I have one in my pocket which I think will please you. -It is called ‘Self Helps,’ and will show you how others have worked and -struggled to become good and useful men. I hope that is what you wish -to do.” - -“I shall try for it,” he answered in a clear tone, while his grey eye -brightened as he grasped the book. “Aim to do right, Marston, and what -you do, do well; perhaps we shall meet again.” - -Quick as an arrow he bounded round the corner, and the doctor’s pony -trotted leisurely down the mountain with us. - -It had been a glorious afternoon, and I had taken a longer stroll than -usual; resting at the little mountain house, while the doctor visited -a patient further up the mountain. - -“Do you know any thing of Marston’s family, doctor?” asked I, when we -finished what we had to say of the immediate landscape. - -“Not much. The mother was a well-educated gentlewoman, above the -majority in these parts; she died soon after I came here, and her -husband soon married a real vixen. They say he spent every thing in -whiskey after that, and these two children, Marston and Jennie, live -with Mr. Jeffries, a good-natured man in his way, but mightily puffed -up with his success in that hotel. He has a good many boarders in -summer, and is making a great deal of money.” - -By this time pony had struck into a quicker pace; the road was more -familiar, or he scented the corn crib, and his master let him have the -rein. - -The next day I left the mountains, but not without a thought of Marston -Howe, and an earnest wish that he might succeed. - -Poor, and dependent on his own labor, there was something in his case -that reminded me strangely of my own; and more than once I felt my -heart throb with a quicker beat as I thought of what might be in store -for him, had he the courage ever to undertake what I saw from his look -he so earnestly craved. - -Still, with constant effort, untiring self-denial, and inflexible -purpose, the height might be won. The germs of the future harvest must -be planted before it can be gathered in. Slow and difficult might be -the ascent, and many a time the feet might falter in the way, and the -heart well-nigh break, while weakness, prejudice, and passion hinder -the progress of the eager soul. - -One look to God, however, and obstacles vanish, doubts dissolve. His -strength is never denied those that ask him. Marston Howe’s mother was -a Christian. His cradle was consecrated by her prayers, and the little -son she left behind her was still the object of divine love and care. -Such thoughts comforted me. He must go up through the narrow defile -of labor, the rocky strait of necessity; but he will overcome: the -mother’s prayers will not be lost. - -Years have passed since that summer day: we have both been climbers; -both began at the same level, the only difference being that I had the -start by some half a score of years; difference enough when starting -in the race, but hardly perceptible when standing, as we both now do, -nearer the top than the bottom of the ladder. - -Last summer I again met with Marston Howe; and for the sake of the -climbers who have suffered and striven, and of others who are still -suffering and striving, I am induced to tell his story as nearly as he -told me as I can well remember it. - -[Illustration] - - - - -II. - - -Of my early life I cannot remember much before we went to the -mountains, and still I have always had a vague remembrance of a -pleasant home surrounded with tall trees, a fountain bubbling up and -catching the sun’s rays in a thousand bewildering forms, sweet flowers, -and singing birds; while in my own little room there was a curious -round glass with rock and moss at the bottom, where the gold fish -flashed their beauty through the crystal water. Then there were days -indistinct and shadowy, when the glory and beauty had gone, where I -hardly knew, and we had another home--my mother, Jennie, and I. - -My father I had seldom seen, and now I saw less of him than before. I -did not so much wonder, for it was not home to me, that little brown -house perched like a bird’s nest on the shelf of the mountain. I did -not like it, and often used to ask my mother why we were there. She -never used to answer me; but putting her arm around me drew me closely -to her, kissing me over and over again, while the tears fell on my -face, but saying nothing. - -It was not so with Jennie, the pretty golden-haired baby that I used -to rock in a nice little crib in our first home. Then we had pretty -carpeted floors, and I could ride my pony all day in a room made on -purpose to play in. - -But when I grew older I saw it all, and understood why my mother -pressed me to her heart and wept. I then knew what made my father -reel and stagger so as he came up the path; and why, when Jennie put -up her hands, and crowed out her evening welcome, he took no notice -of her, and one night came very near crushing the little creature as -he fell over the threshold. Oh, sad, sad days, when he was so cross, -declaring the house was cold and cheerless, or the rooms were so bare -of comfort--when he went to the village at the foot of the hills every -morning, and if he did not come back at night, mother took Jennie in -her arms, and we went after him. - -In this way we lived till Jennie was five years old; then mother grew -sick, and for days lay on the bed so white and still, Jennie curling up -beside her, putting her little chubby cheek close to the thin pallid -one, while I dug up raspberry roots and boiled them into broth for -mother and the baby to eat. - -One day she spoke less frequently; I thought she was asleep, and walked -about very carefully so as not to wake her: at length she looked -up, beckoned me to her, put her arms about my neck, and kissed me. -“Whatever happens,” she said, “you must be a good boy, Marston. You are -now almost ten years old; you will take good care of Jennie, and never -let her leave you.” - -“I will, mother; but what makes you talk so?” and I cried aloud in -grief and fear. - -“I am very sick, Marston, and I may die. If I do, you will take care of -Jennie; promise me.” - -“Yes, mother; but you will not die. God must not--” - -“Hush, my son; God knows what is best; you will always remember to love -and obey Him.” - -“How can I, mother, if he takes you? You are all we have in the world. -What will Jennie and I do without you? No, mother, if he is good, he -will not do this;” and I buried my face in the pillows. My poor sick -mother put her thin arms about my neck, and drew me still nearer, her -hot cheek meeting mine. - -“God _is_ good, my child, and still I must leave you. Mother would not -tell you any thing that was not so. You believe me, Marston?” - -“I believe you, mother,” I cried passionately, “but I cannot let you -go; if you go, I must go with you.” - -“No, Marston, you must stay to take care of Jennie and your father. -Jennie is such a little girl, what would become of her without you?” - -“Will it make you happier, mother, if I take care of Jennie?” and I -kissed her white cheeks again and again. - -“Yes, my son, I shall be very happy if you will promise to be a good -boy, and take care of your little sister for Christ and for me.” - -“I will promise; I will be good, mother,” and my tears were dried. - -Invested with a new dignity as the protector of my little sister, I -must be a man; and I took up Jennie and fed her from the one little -china bowl that remained to us of our old home. - -Weary with the effort of talking, my mother fell asleep, looking -so calm and placid; while I rocked the baby, and watched her quiet -breathing. - -Presently a neighbor came in, and bending over the bed asked how long -she had been sick. - -“Two weeks,” I answered. - -“Poor thing; why didn’t she send for the doctor?” - -“She thought she should be better soon,” I replied, laying Jennie down -on the foot of the bed; and going softly to my mother, I gently kissed -the pale forehead. - -“Marston, promise,” and she opened her eyes. - -“I do, I will, mother.” - -“Dear me, Mrs. Howe, why did you not send for me? your husband told me -this morning that you were sick; and as soon as we had dinner, I came -right up.” - -“I knew there was no help for me. If it was not for leaving my -children--” - -“Don’t be troubled, Mrs. Howe. It isn’t much that I have, but such as -it is they shall have a part.” - -Slowly the sun went down, and as the darkness rolled up the mountain -father came home. He was steadier than usual, and for the first time -he seemed sorry that mother was sick; took her hand kindly in his, and -bent over the pillow and kissed her. - -“Only get well, Mary, and I will stay at home always.” It was all he -could say, the tears choked him. - -“I am very sick, Robert. You will do this for the children,” and her -eyes closed. - -All night the two watched by her bed, Mrs. Jeffries and father; while -Jennie nestled in my arms, occasionally putting up her mouth for a -kiss, thinking it was mother. - -I lived an age in that night, and how many resolves I formed and plans -laid of what I would do, and how I would care for that one little -sister. - -Alas, I had to learn that he who wins must walk through rough places; -that the sweet rest for which we long is only given to those who have -been prompt in duty, resolute against temptation, strong in faith, -patient in the hour of trial. Alas for the weary feet that must walk -through the world without a mother’s guidance. - -Before morning Jennie and I were alone, while my poor father was -stricken into soberness. - -Three months passed. My father was much steadier, stayed more at home, -and was no longer cross and overbearing; for hours would he read to us, -then taking Jennie on his knee, sing her to sleep. - -“If mother could only see him,” I said frequently to myself. I had not -known he was so handsome, for he kept himself much better, and looked -like a new man. Then at night he would put us in bed, and sometimes -sit down by himself, or go out looking so good and happy; I did not -understand it. - -One day I had been down to Mrs. Jeffries with Jennie, and Mr. Jeffries -asked me what I would think if my father gave me a new mother. I told -him that could not be; we could not have but one mother, and our mother -was dead. - -“But what if your father marries again?” - -I went home in tears. Cheerless as our home was, I could not bear that -another should enter it. It was no place for a good woman to come, and -I felt it so. It was not long, however, before I found the reality of -what I feared. My father, on the strength of his good looks, married a -pretty, showily dressed woman, and brought her to our mountain home. -Very kindly he introduced us; but she did not so much as kiss either of -us. I grew indignant, and could have darted out of the house, but for -my remembered promise to my mother. - -A year, and she had turned us out, while a baby of her own nestled in -her arms, and our father was nearly as bad as ever. Jennie had always -been a delicate little thing, or my new mother would not so readily -have parted with her. But my father, with all his waywardness, always -said to her that we should not be parted. - -We knew no one but Mrs. Jeffries, and she kindly consented to take us -in; while her husband allowed me to hold the horses, and after a time -to drive them to and from the stable. - -In this way I gained something. The first winter I was there I went to -school eighteen days; not enough to learn much, and still enough to -give me a thirst for more. The schoolmaster was a lame man that lived -near the school-house, and directly on my way. - -Thin and scant my clothes were, and I used sometimes to go in and warm -myself. What a different atmosphere pervaded his home: his mother, a -sweet woman, with soft braids of still brown hair about her face, while -her mild blue eyes reminded me of my own mother, and not unfrequently -the tears would start as she inquired kindly for my little sister. - -Charles Brisbane was to be a clergyman; and when he read and prayed -with us every morning, it seemed the easiest thing in the world to -be good, and I wondered why my father had not been just such another -good man. And when at the close of the day he talked to us of the dear -Saviour, who came down to earth, took upon himself our nature, suffered -and died to redeem us, I resolved that I would love and trust and serve -him; and then I thought he would take care of Jennie and me, and make -my father a sober man. Then I used to shut my eyes, and dream all sorts -of pleasant things, longing for a world where the people loved each -other and did right, and where death would never come. - -My dear mother seemed to be very near me whenever Charles Brisbane was -talking; and when I went back to Mr. Jeffries’ it did not seem so hard -to do the little errands that were always ready for me. - -Jennie was beginning to do something for Mrs. Jeffries, who herself -took the lead in her own house-work; and of course could not be -expected to do more for us than to see that we had plenty to eat, were -tidy, and not actually ragged. - -I remember stopping one day at Mr. Brisbane’s, and how I longed to be -able to go to school regularly; and could not but say this in rather a -fretful mood. - -“I am sorry that you cannot come, Marston; but remember that you can -learn, wherever you are.” - -“How so?” said I. - -“By reading and studying at home. Improve all your time; always have a -book in your pocket or on a shelf near you.” - -“But I have no books.” - -“I am going to give you some. Here is the Geography you studied at -school, and your Arithmetic. True, you are just commencing, but with -occasional help, I have no doubt you will get on finely. Come to school -when you can; but when kept at home by Mr. Jeffries, do not fret over -it. Do your work faithfully, and look forward. God helps those who help -themselves. He will not leave you, my boy.” - -How strong and happy I felt as I climbed up the hill-side to Mr. -Jeffries’ house. I forgot the dark, cold mornings when I had to rise -at four o’clock, and make paths through the snow; and help feed the -stock and see to the horses, the poor patient brutes waiting until an -opening could be made in the trough, or the snow melted. Then there -were pigs to feed, and corn to shell for the poultry, and the kitchen -to sweep; and by the time I had done it was nearly noon, and too late -for school that day. And Jennie would climb up into my lap, and tell me -not to cry; and I would read my Geography to her very much as, the last -summer, I had read Jack the Giant Killer, Babes in the Wood, Robinson -Crusoe, and Sinbad the Sailor; her blue eyes looking up wonderingly as -she nestled still closer, laying her white velvet cheek to my brown one. - -Dear little comforter, much as I loved her, my heart rebelled not -a little at the loss of school-hours. Still I did not forget Mr. -Brisbane’s words, so that I neither cried nor murmured outwardly, -studying every moment I could get, and repeating my lesson aloud to -Jennie, who in her turn began to study geography, and to make figures -on my slate. - -My writing lesson I suffered the most in. But Mrs. Jeffries had a -sister that visited her occasionally, and when there, Miss Grimshaw -condescended to set me copies; so that between my duties at home, Mr. -Brisbane, and Miss Grimshaw, I made considerable advancement. - -Mr. Jeffries scolded not a little whenever he saw my books, and one day -actually tossed them out of the window, where Molly the cook rescued -them from a mischievous puppy, minus one of the covers. I could have -cried over this; but the leaves were all there, and afterwards Mrs. -Jeffries gave us two chairs and a little table in her linen closet; -and as this was the tidiest place in the house, and above all, never -entered save by Mrs. Jeffries, we were for a time uncommonly happy. - -While I had my books and a chair in the linen closet, Jennie had a -few pots of geraniums and tea-roses that Mrs. Brisbane had sent her, -and which she nurtured with great care. Never shall I forget the look -of distress on the little face, when one morning she had watered them -tenderly, taxing her strength not a little to set them where they -would have all the benefit of the sun, watching them with delight, -counting the buds on the rose-bush, and thinking of the little bouquets -she would be sure to make, first for me and then for Mrs. Jeffries, -putting one in Miss Grimshaw’s room by way of surprise. All at once Mr. -Jeffries came through the room, and seeing the little girl idle for the -moment, with one sweep of his hand landed the rose-bush in the middle -of the yard, the stem broken and the opening buds torn. There was not a -tear, not a word of complaint as she stole up to the linen closet and -laid the ruined stem in my hands, hiding her face on my shoulder, and -trembling like an aspen. - -“Who has done this, Jennie?” said I hurriedly, and in a passion. - -“Don’t be vexed at him; it was Mr. Jeffries. He’ll be sorry to-morrow.” - -“But this was yours; what right had he to touch it? I will go and ask -him;” and I flung down my book and started up. - -“No, Marston, you must not anger him. It is all the home we have; and -if you vex him, he may turn us away, or at least not let you have this -nice little closet to study in.” - -There was something in Jennie’s philosophy that quieted me a little; -and drawing her to my side, I tried first to command myself and then -comfort her. Excited as the poor child was, she soon fell asleep; and -not seeing any thing but the clean white linen in the room, I took off -my coat and spread it on the floor, and laid her down. Accustomed to -a hard bed, she did not waken. Try as I would, I could not study, but -sat looking at the broken rose-bush and then at the thin, troubled face -of the sleeper, the blue lids swollen, and the delicate veins plainly -perceptible about the throbbing temples. - -“How could he do it? By what right deny this little child the only -treasure she possessed?” and I was getting into a passion again, when -Mrs. Jeffries entered. - -She read it all at a glance; went out and brought a quilt and a pillow -for Jennie, and taking up the broken stalk, looked at the roots. - -“It will live. There is another pot, Marston, and if you will fill it -with fresh mould, I will help you. Its beauty has gone for the present, -but it will grow again.” - -I did not move or stir, my anger was too deep. She laid her hand on my -shoulder, and kindly said, “You can’t be sorrier than I am, Marston. -I saw it all: but you wont be angry; Mr. Jeffries will be sorry -to-morrow.” - -“Just what Jennie said; but that wont help it.” - -“It may, Marston; at least it will not do any good to be angry about -it. I know you wont, Marston.” - -“No, I will not be angry;” and at once I went to work filling the pot. -Mrs. Jeffries cut off the broken part, put the buds the least injured -in a little china vase filled with salt and water, and set them on a -shelf in the little attic where Jennie slept. I did not see Jennie -again till my work was done at night, when she said cheerily, - -“Mrs. Jeffries says it will grow again. It was very good of her, wasn’t -it, Marston?” and she nestled by my side, and together we studied our -geography. - -When the warm weather came, the schoolmaster and his mother went away, -and we never saw them afterwards. When the June sun was glowing, -and the soft winds wafted the fragrant breath of flowers up through -the mountain gorges, Mr. Jeffries’ house was once more filled with -visitors; and I was not unfrequently called upon to show some gentleman -or lady the best views, as they were called, until I became familiar -with the beauties and glories of nature, and felt their genial -influence thrilling me with a new and indefinite pleasure. - -Sometimes I was brought face to face with the storm in the mountain -passes, while thunder and lightning shook and vibrated through them, -rolling slowly down the sides of the mountain and echoing along the -valley in terrific grandeur. - -One day in the heat of summer a gentleman came up, saying to Mr. -Jeffries that it was his intention to remain for a week; that he had -come out of the city expressly for mountain air and scenery, and that -he wished to make the best use of his time. His name was Kirby, and -he had not been there a day before I felt that he was another Charles -Brisbane--the same views, the same hopes, the same manner characterized -them; and after my work was done in the morning, it was my privilege -to join him in his rambles, provided I returned in time to have every -thing in readiness for the night. What made this arrangement still -pleasanter, Jennie was permitted to go with us whenever it was not too -far, while Mr. Kirby would tell us stories of mountains over the sea. - -I remember, one evening, we were flinging our lines in a little brook -that ran gurgling along through the green grass like a silver serpent, -when Mr. Kirby told us of the Rosenlani glacier in such glowing -language, that we seemed to see distinctly the pale sunshine dancing -on its sharp peaks of frosted silver, its blue ice caverns, its fringe -of firs, with hanging ledges of short crisp grass, and giant masses -of grey rock, and the sudden shower of snow from falling avalanches. -Then he unrolled a map, and pointed out the jagged pyramid of the -Wetterhorn, and told us of the people that lived there; and by the time -we returned, in season to have our trout for supper, we had learned -more of the geography of Switzerland than we should have learned from -poring over books for a long time. - -“To-morrow,” said Mr. Kirby, “we must go up to the highest point of the -mountain. I am afraid my little Jennie must stay at home.” - -“Why so, Mr. Kirby?” and Jennie pressed to his side; “I like to be with -you and Marston.” - -“I should like to have you go, but I am afraid it would make you sick; -it will be a hard walk for us. If I give you a nice story to read, it -will interest you quite as much; and when we come back, you shall tell -us all about it. Besides, Miss Grimshaw is to teach you how to hem that -new handkerchief. You will be contented to stay now, wont you?” - -“If you think it best,” and the long brown lashes drooped over the blue -eyes. - -The next morning I was up earlier than usual; but not before Jennie, -who insisted on sharing my labor, feeding the pigs, and then scattering -corn to the poultry, and throwing wheat to the few pigeons that circled -about the premises. - -“I do want to go with you,” she said as she kissed me good-by; but -Mr. Kirby was there with the neatly bound book he had promised, and -the tears were soon dried, Jennie looking the last look as she ran up -to her attic to lay aside her treasure, till the moment when her work -should be done and Mrs. Jeffries should give her permission to do what -she pleased. - -“Shall you have patience to climb?” asked Mr. Kirby as we stood at the -base of the tallest peak, its jagged sides covered with stunted shrubs -and shelving rocks as far as the eye could reach, a veil of clouds and -mist resting on the summit. - -“I shall like it exceedingly. You forget that I am accustomed to -climbing.” - -“What was it that Miss Grimshaw called you and Jennie the other day?” - -“The Climbers.” - -“Yes, and the name rather pleased me,” continued Mr. Kirby. “Heights -are to be won every day, and our stand-point to-day should be in -advance of what it was yesterday. We are, or should be, all climbers, -using every incident, occasion, and advantage as a stepping-stone to -something better.” - -“I fear some of us are doing it at a snail’s pace; a lifetime of such -climbing as mine would not amount to much.” - -“You remember the hare and the tortoise,” said Mr. Kirby, “and which -won the race. The hare started off as some people would to go up this -mountain; but he soon grew weary, and lay down to rest. The tortoise -began as he could hold out, and the end justified his wisdom.” I now -understood why Mr. Kirby was walking leisurely. - -“When I was a lad,” continued he, “I often visited my grandfather, who -lived on a farm in the country. On one occasion he hired two men to -work in the harvest-field. One man looked at the small field of wheat -contemptuously, and declared it his opinion the job had better be given -to one; he could do it all himself before sundown. Still my grandfather -insisted on the two, and accordingly they began. One worked furiously, -and at noon he was far in advance of his companion. As the hot hours -passed his arm grew nerveless, his back felt as though it was broken, -his limbs ached, and his head felt like bursting. Long before sundown -he had to withdraw to the house of the farmer; while his companion, -who had husbanded his strength, was left to finish the field alone. -Patience when we commence is quite as needful in intellectual as in -physical effort. The end of the race tells who wins.” - -“There is a good deal of consolation in that,” I ventured to remark. -“Climbing hills I can easily do; but I am sometimes afraid that is the -only climbing that will be allowed me.” - -“Not if you wish another. Obstacles vanish before a strong and resolute -will.” - -“But circumstances, Mr. Kirby.” - -“Look behind you, Marston, and you will see that while walking and -talking at our leisure, we have been advancing all the time, and have -in reality made a very perceptible ascent. The valley looks like a -green thread, and the few buildings that we see like pigeon-houses.” - -“Yes, indeed; we get along better than I expected. We’ve been steadily -at it, that’s all.” - -“That is it, Marston, steadily at it. Perseverance is sure, sooner or -later, to overcome.” - -“And if we have a plan, and steadily follow it, shall we succeed?” I -asked. - -“Almost sure to do so; not by one endeavor, not by two, but by years of -perpetual toil and labor. Climbers have more to contend with than those -who sit still in the valley. Do you begin to weary, Marston?” - -“Oh no; but the path is much rougher, and I slip backward instead of -getting forward.” - -“Now you see why I took this staff tipped with a sharp iron. It will -help us when the way is slippery. Give me your hand; it is hard work, -but nothing good is achieved without labor.” - -At length we reached a cliff which, projecting boldly into our path, -rose like a dark grey wall to bar our advance. - -“What shall we do now?” I asked; “go back?” - -“Never do that, unless you are out of the way,” said Mr. Kirby. “We -must get up just as we have come so far, by climbing. But it is so -steep on this side, we shall have to go round.” After a short pause -to ascertain the most favorable point, Mr. Kirby with his iron-tipped -staff proceeded to put his advice into practice. Each step was -carefully taken, another, and another; while, as we advanced, helps -arose on all sides: here was a twig, there a rock, and there a secure -place for the feet; and without any great fatigue, and almost before we -were aware, we stood on the top of the enormous mass that but a short -time before had loomed up threateningly. - -“You see where we are,” said Mr. Kirby. “Remember, and never give up -when you undertake any thing. Stop only sufficiently long to make sure -of the way, and then advance, one step at a time. You see here how -clearly one step prepares the way for another; so it will ever be. Oaks -are strengthened by wind and storm; so men grow firm by combating with -difficulty and opposition.” - -“I don’t see how that can make them strong,” I said; for I did not -clearly understand the import of his words. - -“I do not mean strong in body merely, although this might follow, but -strong in spirit, more resolute to do, more determined to endure. If -boys possess this quality, they will be pretty sure to make strong, -reliable men, able to take a position in the world and have an -influence among men. But look; what a splendid view we have from this -point;” and Mr. Kirby looked over the broad panorama with an eye that -seemed to see the Deity in his works; and from the top of that table -rock he told me of his own life, of the obstacles in his way, the -poverty and destitution that he had known: “And still by climbing, just -as we have been doing to-day, I have made some progress; and if I keep -on--” - -“What will you make?” I asked in my eagerness. - -“What would you say if you knew I had no higher ambition than to be a -clergyman?” looking at me with a half smile in his clear dark eye. - -“I think I should be a lawyer, if I was in your place, Mr. Kirby.” - -“A lawyer; why so?” - -“Why, there’s a better chance to rise in the world. It must be very -nice to sway men as easily as lawyers do; and then there’s a chance of -one day being senator or judge.” - -“It must be very pleasant, you say, to sway men as lawyers do. Do -you not think it equally good to sway men as clergymen do? It is the -lawyer’s business to help men out of temporary difficulties. It is the -clergyman’s business to show men a better way: first to show them -their condition as sinners, then to tell them of the precious Saviour -who died to redeem them, and who will not only save them from temporary -difficulties, but raise them to an eternity of happiness. Is there any -thing more glorious than this, Marston?” - -“I hardly know, sir. It has always seemed to me I should like to be a -lawyer. Yet it must be pleasant, as you say, to make people better.” - -“I hope you will always think so, Marston,” and Mr. Kirby gathered some -wild flowers. “They will remind us of the walk. Flowers have the happy -power of always calling our best thoughts to the surface.” - -“It would seem your best thoughts are always there, Mr. Kirby.” - -“On the contrary, my best thoughts are sometimes out of sight entirely. -I have to be very watchful over myself. I am too readily given to -despondency, and not willing to trust and be bright and cheerful when -it looks dark and lowering.” - -“Is it our duty always to be bright and glad?” I asked. - -“I think so, Marston.” - -“But if every thing goes wrong with us?” - -“Every thing cannot go wrong with us, if we love and trust the Saviour, -for he has said that all things shall work together for our good.” - -“That is what mother used to say. I always wondered how she could.” - -“Because she trusted him, and this trust made her cheerful and happy.” - -“If we go to the top,” I ventured to say, “we must be going;” and again -the dry moss rustled beneath our feet. We had not gone far before dark -clouds began to scud over the sky, portending a sudden storm. - -“Had we not better return?” I asked. - -“We are much nearer the top than the bottom of the mountain,” said Mr. -Kirby. “If a storm should come, it would reach us before we could get -half way down. You are not afraid of a storm, Marston.” - -“Not of mere rain; but this is no place as to the wind, to say nothing -of thunder and lightning.” - -“All these are in His keeping. We are the objects of his love.” He had -hardly finished speaking, when a fearful gale swept down the mountain, -and nearly bore us away with it. The rain quickly followed, while the -thunder was startling, with its quick, sharp reports, then rolling -along in one continued roar till lost in the distance. - -[Illustration] - -“This will not last long,” said Mr. Kirby, and took shelter under -a great rock, drawing me after him. How long we stood there I hardly -know, for the dense mass of black clouds floating so near us, carried -swiftly by the winds, rolling and unrolling their rugged edges, fringed -with the lurid glare, was the most fascinating spectacle that I had -ever witnessed. - -After explaining to me the different strata of the atmosphere and some -of the causes of this sudden change in the clouds, Mr. Kirby spoke of -that great day of storm and dread, when there would be some to cry for -the mountains to cover them from the wrath of the Lamb, and others to -whom He would be as the shelter of a great rock. - -Then we stepped out from under the rock. The shower was over, and we -again advanced. For a time the ascent was more precipitous than any -that we had met before, while the wet boughs, brushing against our -faces, would have seriously disturbed a less persevering spirit than -Mr. Kirby’s. - -Among the remembrances of that day were the tiny pools and cascades, -filled to overflowing during the shower. Then there were spots of soft -green beds of beautiful moss, and short, steep acclivities, such as -would hardly afford footing for the chamois or gazelle. - -At length we stood at the top. Here, on the very summit of the -mountain, was a lovely little lake, its water clear as crystal, -where the clouds could see their beauty reflected without comment or -obstruction. - -How proud and happy I felt. The work was done. I had often looked up, -but never before attempted going to the top. Once decided upon, it was -done. Would it be as easy with every thing else? - -Scarcely had we turned from the lake, when the sun came out, rolling -up the floating mists into wool-like drapery of clouds, revealing a -panorama of surpassing grandeur. - -Beneath us lay a succession of hills, shelving down to the valley, -while further in the distance were green fields, with farm-houses -looking hardly bigger than mole-hills, with the river winding on to the -ocean like a long blue thread; and the ocean itself, whose boundary -I could not define, was an object of strange wonder to me. Ignorant -as I was, I could not understand the strong emotion that thrilled me, -depriving me entirely of the power of speech. - -“How beautiful He hath made them all;” and Mr. Kirby lifted his hat, -and stood uncovered, awed by the glorious majesty around him. As I -looked at him, I felt a still stronger yearning for something higher -and nobler. That hour, I am persuaded, was a turning-point in my life. -New hopes fluttered into being; new resolves were registered; new -purposes were to be maintained; and a strong confidence was born within -me, that the Lord would not leave me desolate. - -Mr. Kirby talked of God’s exceeding great love, and how he never turned -any away, even the poorest and weakest, that might call upon him for -aid. He also told me several wonderful things of the mountains, and the -transformation continually going on in them; and then of Hugh Miller, -and the ways by which he had achieved his great work. - -It surprises me now, when I think how much was crowded into that -one day. It was to me like a new revelation; the very air was full -of a new life; I breathed freer than I had done for months. A new -path was opening, and I felt strong to tread where others had gone -before--others as poor and friendless as I was. Oh that we could always -keep ourselves on the mountain heights of faith and hope. - -With Mr. Kirby near to prompt and encourage me, I forgot my -ragged clothes and rimless hat, and that my shoes were old and -patched--forgot, or rather did not know, that to become learned as he -was would require years of time and a great deal of money, a commodity -that I knew little about. My heart was light and buoyant. I thought I -could do it, and hope began to trill a measure that was henceforth to -ring on all through my life. - -The sudden shower had rendered fresh and green each leaf and flower, -while the bright sun-rays had transmuted the drops to brilliant -diamonds, suspended in lavish profusion from tree and shrub, catching -and reflecting its light in countless forms of splendor. - -Just then a wren flew out of a thicket, and settled on a low spray just -in our path. With a sweep of my hand I could have reached the fearless -little songster, fresh, bright, glad, offering its tribute to the -Creator. - -“Shall not we thank him too?” said Mr. Kirby; and suiting the action to -the word, he knelt, and placing one hand upon my bowed head, implored -God, for Christ’s sake, to have compassion upon me, to make me a child -of God, to forgive my sins, and to give me a teachable spirit, that I -might be willing to be led, and might, through the influence of his -grace, grow up to be a good and useful man. - -This was the first time that anybody had ever prayed alone with me, -save my mother; and it brought her so forcibly before me, that I could -not keep down the sobs. - -Going home, I asked Mr. Kirby if we should ever see him again. - -“It is not probable,” he answered. “It is very possible that I may be -sent abroad; and if so, we may never meet again; but whether we meet or -not, I shall think of you, Marston, and pray that we may both live so -as to meet in heaven.” - -Jennie saw us coming, and bounded over the brook that ran at the back -of the house and across the pasture to meet us, breaking out into a -glad welcome, telling us that she had finished the book, and nearly -hemmed the handkerchief. “Here it is,” holding it up for inspection. - -“Very well done,” said Mr. Kirby, shaking it out, and examining it -attentively. “Now, my little friends, I want you both to remember this -day. It may be the last chance I shall have to speak to you alone. Do -your duty wherever you are. Let your first question be, Is it right? -and then never turn back, nor be discouraged. Do this, and you will -advance, just as we did in climbing the mountain to-day, one step at a -time; so by one act of duty at a time, one good purpose well carried -out, success will follow.” Then putting his hand on each of our heads, -“Give your hearts to Christ now; love and serve him. Wherever I go, I -shall think of you, and shall hope you are workers for him, let your -surroundings be what they may.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -III. - - -Full of my new resolves, I went about my evening’s work, followed -closely by Jennie, telling me all the time about her book. While -listening to the charming story, I forgot, and put brindle into the -black cow’s place. No sooner done, than Mr. Jeffries, who had a quick -eye, sent me spinning across the stable floor, and Jennie into the -house and up to her attic, where I found her an hour afterwards, with -tears still on her cheeks. - -“Don’t cry about it, Jennie;” and I drew up a little rocking-chair I -had made for her out of an old one, and took her in my arms. “It was -careless in me; I should have seen what I was about.” - -“He said afterwards it would not have been much matter if the cattle -had remained so all night. Oh, if we only had a home, like other -children, Marston. I wonder why we haven’t;” and she nestled her -brown head on my shoulder, and tried hard not to sob any more. Just -then a sharp voice came up from the kitchen, and for once I felt like -resisting. I was tired, my work was all done, and I sat quite still, -holding Jennie tightly. Again and again the call. - -“We must go, brother; Mr. Kirby said we must do what we have to do -well, and then God will open a path for us. I do hope he will; don’t -you?” Kissing my angry cheek, she put away her book, and ran down -the narrow stairs. Brushing off the tears, I followed as quickly as -possible. - -“You’ve forgotten your wood, boy; this comes of reading books. If you -don’t quit it, you can’t stay here, I can tell you;” and Mr. Jeffries -stormed till he was tired, and then walked into the bar-room. - -“Don’t mind his being cross, Marston,” said Mrs. Jeffries soothingly; -“he’s not quite himself to-night; to-morrow he’ll be sorry.” - -Tired as I was at bedtime I could not sleep, the day had been so -pleasant notwithstanding the fatigue. I had listened to Mr. Kirby, and -thought it would be easy to be good; and then he had prayed that I -might be led. But before my work was done I had become angry and cross, -and half questioning God’s goodness because Jennie and I had not a -home, with some one to love and take care of us. - -I went to the window where I could see the distant hills, the very -mountain the top of which we had reached by continued effort. “Nothing -is gained without labor,” Mr. Kirby had said. How easy it would be to -do right, I thought, if we could always live with such people; and I -looked up to the stars twinkling to each other in their beauty. - -My heart was full, and yearned for sympathy; and to comfort myself, I -went back and lived the cheering scenes of my life over again--calling -up every word and look of my dear mother, then all Mr. Brisbane had -said, and now Mr. Kirby, and my books, of which I could count several. - -In going up the mountain Mr. Kirby had often caused me to look behind -me, in that way getting an idea of the ascent we were really making. So -in looking over the past I could see that I had made some advance, and -insensibly my thoughts grew clearer. Again I looked up to the heavens; -but I knew but little of God’s love. His precious promise was to me -then a sealed voice. Still, there was a feeling of quiet stole over -me, something that spoke comfort, for I went to sleep. - -The next morning Mr. Kirby left, and I had so much to do, and so many -calling upon me at once, that I had no time to tell him what I had -resolved to tell him, namely, how forgetful I had been, and what a -passionate feeling had swept over me. I meant to try and do better, but -I had no time to tell him. - -“Do right, Marston, and study all you can,” had been his last words. -Mr. Jeffries was very kind, and as if to make amends for the last -night, gave me an hour to myself after dinner. Taking our books, -Jennie followed me to a flat rock under a gnarled apple-tree, and on a -broken slate I pored over my sums, while she studied geography. Then -I heard her lesson, and she questioned me in arithmetic; for with -less instruction she was further advanced than I was. After that, we -read the book Mr. Kirby had given her. It was a simple, unvarnished -sketch of every-day life, with allusions that I could understand, and -experiences so like my own that more than once I stopped to dry my eyes. - -We had just finished, and were talking it over, when who should come -across the garden but our father? We had not seen him in a good while, -and there was something so kind in his look and manner, that we started -at once to meet him. - -“So you have not quite forgotten me,” he said, as Jennie kissed him and -I clung to his hand. - -“We can never do that, pa.” He sat down on the rock and held us to him, -with his arms close around us. - -“Are you willing to come home, Marston? You are getting to be a large -boy, and can help me now; and I am going to try to do better.” - -Had it not been for my new mother I should have jumped at the idea of -going with my father; but when I thought of her my heart struggled -against it. Again Mr. Kirby’s words came to my mind: “Do right, -Marston.” Something told me it was right, if my father was trying to -make a better man, to help him. So I answered resolutely, - -“If you think it best, father; but I want to go to school, and do -something better by and by.” - -“That is what I want you to do, my son; and I will try and help you.” - -He was sober, and spoke so kindly, we both cried when he kissed us -good-by, and said he knew he had not been as good to us as he ought to -have been since we had no mother. Dear father, it was a long time since -we had seen him so kind; and it was to be a still longer time before -we should see him so kind again. - -“You will come down to-morrow night, children.” - -“Yes, father.” - -This arrangement did not suit Mr. Jeffries; but he said nothing against -it, while his wife shook her head. “The same old story; it will be as -bad as ever in a week,” she said to herself. - -The next day, the last we stayed at the Jeffries’, a traveller -presented me with a book entitled “Self Helps,” and never a miser -rejoiced more over his treasure than I did when I caught sight of its -contents. So there had been hosts of poor boys trying just as I was for -something better; and at last they found it; so should I. - -At sunset Jennie and I walked back to our old home. Our new mother -received us kindly, and the baby crowed and clapped his hands, seeming -to regard us as old acquaintances. - -The days and weeks passed, and it was the middle of autumn. There was a -little corn to be gathered, and a few potatoes to be dug; but father’s -good promises had all vanished. He was not cross, neither did he often -scold, but he stayed from home; and when he was there, he was too -stupid to care for any of us. - -Winter came, and I attended a school nearly a mile from us; but this -time we had no such friend as Charles Brisbane. The teacher seemed to -know that we were poor and miserable; and when I went in late, as I -almost always did, he was sure to give me a sharp reprimand. In vain it -was to rise at four o’clock: there was fire to make, there were paths -to shovel, the cow to milk, and breakfast to get; for my new mother -would not rise until the room was warm, and this in our house could -not be till the fire had been burning a good while. - -Poor little Jennie had to stay at home entirely. Still she studied, and -Miss Grimshaw out of the kindness of her heart sent us each a slate for -her Christmas present. Never were more acceptable gifts, and I question -if any Christmas since has brought us more pleasure, brightened as it -was by two new slates. - -The winter proved to be unusually severe; the snow deeper than for -years. We managed to live, how I hardly know. There was plenty of wood -that could be had for the cutting; but I had not sufficient strength -to accomplish much in this way, and had to content myself with drawing -up fallen timber, and branches that the wind had scattered. Towards -spring, father was gone more than ever, sometimes not coming home till -late at night; and then not till Jennie and I had taken the lantern -and gone down to the village after him. - -One night he was later than usual; the day had been unusually bleak, a -heavy snow-storm setting in before noon, and by sunset we could hardly -wade through it. Ten o’clock, and our mother for the first time grew -uneasy; the baby was asleep; she left Jennie to rock the cradle, and -giving me the lantern, we started for the village. - -We had not made half the distance before we were covered with such -a thick mantle of snow as to render it necessary to stop and shake -ourselves; but my step-mother had a resolute will, when she chose to -put it in force. In vain I counselled her to return, and let me go -alone; finding she could not be persuaded, I waded through, making as -good a path as possible, holding up my lantern so that father could -see it if he was really on the way. - -It was twelve o’clock when we reached the village; the lights were -nearly all out, only one room was open, and that was the fatal one that -tempted him so often from home. - -“No, your father is not here,” they said in answer to my inquiries. “He -started for home before night. It is such a terrible storm, he may have -stopped on the way.” - -“More likely that he has fallen in the snow,” said mother; “it is -frightfully cold, and the wind is drifting it in heaps.” - -There were few words spoken as we went back. The storm had somewhat -subsided, and far as the eye could reach spread out before us one mass -of fleecy whiteness. - -How our hearts thrilled, and then stood still, as we passed an -eminence where the snow lay high and uneven: under that white covering -father might be buried. - -“Here is an uneven track,” and mother pointed to a pile of snow at the -foot of the hill, and very near our own door. I held up the lantern, -but for a moment could not move onward. So near us, and still we had -gone so far! Nerving myself at last, I followed the steps, now filled -with snow, but still perceptible. - -It was as we feared. He had started for home, and had reached the foot -of the hill, when he fell, too chilled or too insensible to rise. - -Oh the agony of that night! He was our father, and deeply as he had -erred, we loved him. Such a terrible death, and we knew not where to -look for comfort. - - - - -IV. - - -Jennie and I were alone now, for our new mother had taken her babe and -gone back to her parents. What could we do? I thought of others who had -worked out of just such extremities, and resolved that I would seek -employment, but not of Mr. Jeffries. - -So making myself as tidy as possible, and curling Jennie’s hair over -my fingers as I had seen my own mother do, we shut the door of our -mountain home, and walked resolutely down to the village. Sure of -success, I kept Jennie laughing as I portrayed the future in glowing -colors, telling her of all that I would do, and the pretty home that I -would make of my own, where we would always live together, with plenty -of books and flowers--her sweet blue eyes looking up with such a glad -earnestness. - -“It will be better than the story in the book, wont it?” - -Our first call was on Miss Grimshaw. She was a milliner in the village, -and her one shop window was full of pictures of highly dressed women, -whose feathers, bonnets, and flowers made a great impression upon her -customers, to say nothing of the awe Jennie and I felt in the presence -of such magnificence. - -Miss Grimshaw received us very cordially; and when I told her we wanted -work together, she shook her head. - -After thinking a while, she said with sincere tenderness, “Jennie had -better stay with me. She is too delicate to do heavy work; I will give -her a light task, and let her have several hours to study every day: -and it is very probable that you can find employment in the village; -so it will not be much of a separation.” - -It was soon settled that Jennie should remain with Miss Grimshaw; and I -went to look out for myself elsewhere. Fortunately the grocer who lived -directly opposite wanted a boy; and after examining me a little in -arithmetic, and also asking me to write his name and my own, he finally -said, - -“You may try, although I will not promise to keep you a single day.” - -Every little village has its great man; and the village of Claverton, -nestled at the foot of the green hills, was not without its rich man, -Esquire Clavers being the original proprietor from whom it took its -name. - -He was a little wiry man, with sparkling eyes and a hooked nose, spare -thin hair, and whiskers thickly sprinkled with grey, and a voice that -sounded any thing but musical, especially to the poor. - -Very precise in his toilet was Esquire Clavers; his linen was always -unexceptionable, his watch chain of the largest dimensions, and from it -dangled a massive seal and gold key, while his gold-headed cane seemed -almost a part of himself, for never was he seen without it. He lived -in a two-story yellow house at the head of the principal street, and -the people looked up to him with a deferential air given to no other -person, not even the minister. - -Mr. Willett, the grocery keeper, was the next on the list; and it not -unfrequently happened, as his front shop was the largest one in town, -that it proved the rendezvous for politicians and news-mongers--Esquire -Clavers being of course the main speaker in the assembly, and the -oracle in matters of opinion in all Claverton. - -It was spring, but not yet sufficiently warm to do without fires; -accordingly there was a trio around the stove the very morning I -commenced my work. - -“I see you’ve got a new boy,” said Jared Peat the tailor. - -“On trial just,” answered Mr. Willett. - -“Not of much account, I’ll venture; a chip of the old block,” continued -Jared. - -“Smart as a steel-trap,” said Esquire Clavers, “but altogether too fine -notions in his head. If a boy would be any thing, he must work for it. -It’s of no use trying to work and study too; one or the other will -be done badly. Jeffries was telling me of his being there; he could -hardly take a horse to water without having a book along to read while -the horse was drinking. For my part, I wouldn’t give him his salt if -he works in that manner.” Esquire Clavers had said it, and of course -I should find little time for books so long as I should be in Mr. -Willett’s employ. - -I had heard that Esquire Clavers had once been poor, and I could not -but ask myself, Has he forgotten? or was it not so dark and hard to him -as it is to me? - -Presently a customer asked for molasses, and I went into the back room -to draw it, Mr. Willett hastening after me. - -“You should not fill the measure quite full, boy.” - -“She asked for a quart, sir;” and I looked up, feeling sure he had not -understood, as I held but a quart measure. - -“I know, but we never fill it quite full; it might run over, you know; -and when you stop it, see that not a drop is lost.” - -He walked about, apparently finding something to do, but in reality -watching me. I saw the direction of his eye; and filling my measure, -with care that it did not run over, and that not a drop was lost, I -emptied it into the poor woman’s jug. - -“Never stop to drain it; make quick work; somebody else will want you;” -and I followed him into the front room. - -“I see he gives good measure,” Mr. Willett said to Jared Peat as he -resumed his place at the fire. - -“Oh yes, such people are always honest.” - -“I don’t know about that,” answered Esquire Clavers. “His father was an -honest man, though open-handed and generous, and I have heard say was -at one time a gentleman. It’s a pity he drank so.” - -They did not seem to mind me at all, and still I felt pleased, although -saddened, to hear my father called an honest man, and that at one time -he had been in better circumstances. Thus thinking, and wishing that I -knew more of his early life, I leaned against the counter, and weighed -and tied up sundry packages; for this was, Mr. Willett said, my first -work, to tie packages handsomely. - -On the day went. My hands were not idle, yet not unfrequently I found -my thoughts straying into the future. The vision loomed up with a -sudden brightness, a path tending onward in spite of difficulties and -temptations. - -I did not know what trials would rise up from unseen places, what -snares and pitfalls where the flowers grew brightest. But I remembered -Mr. Kirby had said, as he climbed the mountain, “One step at a time; -and so in life. Do what you have to do well, and God will open a path -to something better.” - -Little did I then see what He was to do for me; little did I then -understand my duty to him; but I thought of him, and felt a certain -sense of reliance, a feeling of security, which I have since vainly -endeavored to understand. - -Near sunset, and just as I was balancing the question, wishing and -still fearing to ask Mr. Willett’s permission to study in the evening, -Jennie came in, her bright, happy face looking still prettier in a -light blue sun-bonnet that Miss Grimshaw had given her. I had only -time for a kiss when she asked for Mr. Willett. I showed her to his -desk, when she stepped forward and laid a tiny note before him. I saw -that his face lit up with a glad surprise, and his eyes sparkled with -pleasure as he laid it down. - -“Yes, tell her I’ll come.” I afterwards discovered it was an invitation -to tea. Mr. Willett was a devoted admirer, and the little milliner held -his heart as he did his purse, tightly. What was said I never knew; -but the next morning Mr. Willett said if I was faithful and did my work -well, I could study every evening with Jennie, and Miss Grimshaw would -hear our lessons. - -That night was an era in my life, and very happy and hopeful was I as I -crossed the street to the little side door Jennie had told me to enter. -Here I found a comfortable room, a round table in the centre of the -floor, with our two slates, an arithmetic, and geography; for Jennie -had every thing in readiness, including a tallow candle in a white -porcelain holder, the bottom shaped like a leaf, which Jennie thought -was a marvel of beauty. In the corner was seated grandma Grimshaw, a -stately looking woman with silver hair combed low on the forehead, -white muslin cap with long embroidered tabs, and spectacles. - -“And this is Marston,” said she, taking my hand as I came in. “I’ve -heard Eliza speak of you as a good boy. She used to know your ma;” and -soon Miss Grimshaw came out of the front room, laid her hand on my -head, and said, - -“You shall study two hours if you like, and then I will hear your -lesson.” I tried to stammer out my thanks, but something choked down my -words. “That is nothing, Marston. I used to want to study, but I had no -chance. I like to read, and I am familiar with arithmetic; I can help -you there as well as any one;” and she was gone. - -“Eliza don’t get much time,” said her mother; “but she likes to help -others; and she used to think so much of your mother.” - -Brushing away the tears that would come at the mention of my mother, I -turned to my slate. The first three rules I could understand perfectly, -but long division troubled me. I was sure to make some mistake that -would require me to go over and over again, and not unfrequently did I -feel inclined to throw it aside. But one look at my “Self Helps,” and I -worked away as resolutely as ever. - -At nine Miss Grimshaw came in, heard Jennie’s lesson in geography, then -questioned me in arithmetic, and explained till the difficulties had -all vanished. Then we read for half an hour; at the expiration of which -she shut our books. - -“I promised Mr. Willett you should be there five minutes before ten.” - -“This is better than the boy in the book,” said Jennie, reaching up on -tiptoe to kiss me good-night. - -It had been a busy day and evening, and I was tired. Still I had made -some advance, and at this rate it would not be long before I should -master arithmetic. I slept in a little back room; but weary as I was, -I could not at once quiet my thoughts; so I lay and watched one little -star as it stole across my window, and wondered if my mother could know -how and where I was, and that I did try to care for Jennie, although we -could not sleep under the same roof. - -As spring came forward, the ordinary business of the day remained quite -the same, but how many pleasant things I had to think of. Long division -did not trouble me any more, neither did fractions; I was beginning to -understand interest, and my handwriting had much improved. There was -also a sensible difference in my outward appearance, and Jennie grew in -loveliness each day. How proud I was of that little sister; and never -did we go to church or Sabbath-school, but I wondered if mother could -know it. - -When the summer heats were on us there was less to do, and sometimes -I got a walk with Jennie among the hills. A year had made a great -difference with both of us, while the mountain was just the same; and -we often thought of our last walk there, and of dear Mr. Kirby. - -“If he could only know how kind Miss Grimshaw is to us,” said Jennie. -“It is God that puts it into her heart, isn’t it? and not for our -sakes, but for Christ’s sake. I used to think it was for mother’s sake; -but Christ died for us.” - -Dear little comforter; her heart was full of sweet thoughts, while I -was ambitious for her; and this, together with Mr. Kirby’s words, kept -me from being gloomy and desponding when I fancied Mr. Willett was -impatient or exacting: “Do your work well, and God will open a path to -something better.” This gave me courage and strength; so that while I -worked in the present, I lived in the future. - -One day I was sent to Esquire Clavers’ with a basket of groceries he -had ordered. As I went up the walk, Frank, his oldest son, a boy of -about my own age, was on the piazza, a spot embowered in roses and -honeysuckles, reading; a little girl in a blue lawn dress, with long -golden curls framing her face like a picture, reclined near him, her -head resting on the neck of a large Newfoundland dog. From the open -window the pleasant tones of a piano floated out on the air, and -involuntarily I stopped to listen. Frank looked up, and seeing me, came -down the avenue to meet me. - -“What have you here? Oh, teas and things for mother. Do you like music? -Come, go in and hear sister play.” - -“I should be glad to,” I answered, “but I was told to return -immediately.” - -“Five minutes wont be missed; come in.” - -“Not now, Frank,” for I thought of what Mr. Kirby had said; and handing -my basket to the servant, I took up Frank’s book. - -“What is this?” I asked. - -“Latin,” he answered; “and a grand old language it is;” and he began -reading aloud. - -“Where do you go to school?” I asked. - -“To the Rockdale academy. Have you never heard of it? It is vacation -now. We shall commence again in September. Oh, we have great times -there. I wish you would join us; you’d like the boys: some of them -study, and some are up to all sorts of fun.” - -“I wish I could go,” I answered musingly. - -“Well, why can’t you? it’s only four miles from here.” - -I did not dare stay another moment; and taking my basket, I turned, -with a hasty good-by to Frank. Since the vacation commenced, he had -visited the grocery almost every day, and very fond he seemed of all -sports and amusements. - -This boy has a home, I said to myself sadly, and parents to watch over -him; he does not have to look after himself; and his little sister is -no better than Jennie; and again I dared to question why Frank Clavers -had so much, and we were so destitute. But whatever feelings swayed me -for the moment, the controlling idea was still the same: “Do what you -do well, and God will open a path.” - -Even then God was preparing a surprise that would melt me into tears. -For several days Miss Grimshaw had been saying that I was getting all -she knew of arithmetic; and when September came, she surprised me by -asking how I would like to go to the Rockdale academy. - -“Oh, so much, Miss Grimshaw; but it is four miles from here, and--” - -“It is only three miles by the river road, which is by far the -pleasantest. Three miles is not such a long walk for a boy like you.” - -“Oh no, Miss Grimshaw; but you forget there is no school at night.” - -“You are not going at night, but in the morning early;” and my white -face, as she told me afterwards, frightened her into exclaiming at once, - -“Mrs. Jeffries says that she will board you; that is, she will send me -enough during the winter of such things as we need to pay the expense -of your board; and you are to go to Rockdale.” - -I had no words, and Jennie seated herself on my knee, and kissed away -the tears. “I am so glad, brother; I only wish I could go too.” - -“The walk is entirely too long for Jennie,” said Miss Grimshaw, who -overheard the last remark; “but you can help her some, and in this way -she will advance nearly as well as though at school all the time.” - -“We shall get on very nicely. I cannot sufficiently thank you, Miss -Grimshaw.” - -“It is not all my work, Marston. Mrs. Jeffries had quite as much to do -with it; she is anxious that you should both go to school.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -V. - - -A great day it was when I started for the academy. With the amount -received from Mr. Willett, Miss Grimshaw had provided me with a neat -outfit, and also had enough left for a few new books. - -“I used to have a little brother,” said Miss Grimshaw as we set out; -for the night previous, she had announced her intention of going with -me. “Had Johnny lived, he would have been about your own age. We always -intended to send him to college; for he loved books.” - -But it was not a morning to be sad. A soft hazy atmosphere floated -around us, and softened into beauty the distant landscape. The hills -stretching away northward loomed up through their blue veil with almost -the majesty of mountain ranges; the green of the pines on their -crests, and the ragged lines of the wood which marked the courses -of the descending ravines, were dimmed and robbed of their gloom. -The valley was still fresh, and the great oaks by the brook had not -yet shed all their tawny leaves. A moist and fragrant odor of decay -pervaded the air, and the soft south wind occasionally stealing along -the valley seemed to blow the sombre colors of the landscape into -long-continued waves of brightness. - -The hills, curving rapidly to the eastward, rose abruptly from the -meadows in a succession of terraces, the lowest of which was faced with -a wall of dark rock, in horizontal strata, but almost concealed from -view by the tall forest-trees which grew at the base. - -The brook, issuing from a glen which descended from the lofty upland -region, poured itself headlong from the brink of the rocky steep, a -glittering silver thread. Seen through the hazy atmosphere, its narrow -white column seemed to stand motionless between the pines, and its -mellowed mist to roll from some region beyond the hills. - -“We shall see Rockdale presently,” said Miss Grimshaw. “I am sorry now -that I did not let Jennie come. I did not think the walk would be so -beautiful, and I was afraid it would make her sick.” - -“If you are willing, I would like to have her take this walk some time; -it would please her so much; neither do I think it would tire her. We -have both been accustomed to long walks. I have been to the top of the -highest point, and Jennie was familiar with almost every rock about -Mrs. Jeffries’.” - -“She shall come,” continued Miss Grimshaw. “But there’s the academy. -It used to be only a private dwelling; but the owner died, and Mr. -Harlan, our minister then, thought it would be a good place for a -school. Terryville, just beyond, is much larger than our village, and -most of the boys board there.” - -By this time we were near the house, a white two-story building, with a -broad veranda looking southward from the last low shelf of the hills, -with an ample school-room in the rear, and grounds fitted up with -arbors, rustic seats, swings, and all the paraphernalia of school life. -The avenue by which we approached was lined with maples, and on our -advance we passed clumps of lilacs and snowballs. But the house itself, -with its heavy windows and flagged walk before the door, was just the -same as before, Miss Grimshaw said. A few bunches of asters nodded -their welcome, and the chrysanthemums on the borders stood as erect as -though school-boys never passed them. We had reached the porch before -Mr. Harlan saw us. - -“And this is Marston Howe,” he said, after greeting Miss Grimshaw with -marked kindness. “I am glad to see you, Marston; they tell me that you -are fond of books, and determined to study. Is that so?” - -“I shall do my best, sir,” was all that I could say, while it seemed -that his eyes would look me through. - -“It will be a long walk, Mr. Harlan,” Miss Grimshaw observed when she -rose to leave. “I should have been glad on many accounts could Marston -have boarded here; but for the present we could not arrange it so.” - -“Oh, as for that matter, the walk will do him good; the harder one -studies, the more exercise he should have. It will deprive him of -companionship, save his books; but perhaps that will prove no loss. It -is a delightful walk. I make the trip sometimes, and always return well -paid for the trouble. I am only sorry I have so few pupils from your -village. Frank Clavers boards here, and goes home on Friday.” - -When Miss Grimshaw had gone, Mr. Harlan led the way into a large room -where several boys and girls were studying. Taking his seat at the -desk, he motioned me near him, and began questioning me closely in -arithmetic and geography. When he had finished, he gave me a lesson in -Latin grammar, and then seated me at his right hand, and by the side of -another pupil, almost man grown, whom he called Lovell. - -He then rung his desk-bell, and through the several doors came pupils -from the recitation rooms; another touch of the bell, and others went -out. There was no voice, no confusion; it was done with the order and -precision of clock-work. - -Twelve o’clock, and then such a buzz and whirr in the school-room -I could neither see nor think. Soon Frank Clavers came with a -noisy welcome, and led me out to see a new swing he had just been -improvising, introducing me first to one and then to another. - -“But you’ll know them soon enough, Marston. I only wish you boarded in -the house; such capital times as we have. Fridays I go home. I am glad -you are here to go with me.” - -“But you do not walk, and I do all the time.” - -“No matter. I have my pony sent down, and they can just as well send -another. But say, whom do you sit with?” - -“Mr. Harlan called him Lovell.” - -“Lovell! why, he’s the very best scholar in school; poor though; going -to be a minister;” and Frank ran on: “There goes the dinner-bell. What -have you for dinner, Marston?” - -“I shall take my dinner after I get home,” I answered. - -“Too bad; I wish you would board here. Why not?” - -“I’m too poor, Frank; I am glad to come on any terms.” - -There was a sudden dropping of balls and jumping from swings, and a -general scudding across the grounds. I walked around to the south side, -and seated myself in an arbor heavily laden with vines. - -It had seemed to me delightful to study Latin; but the grammar, now -that I had it in my hand, was altogether a different thing. I thought -of the mountain. We had gone to the top by the simple effort of one -step at a time. - -“We are all climbers,” Mr. Kirby had said. Studying Latin could be done -in the same manner as we scaled the mountain, with one step at a time. -Before I went home at night my lesson was recited. - -“Very well for the first day,” said Mr. Harlan. “Perseverance and -energy are all that is necessary. You like to study, and I trust you -like to do what you do well. Make thorough work; understand what you -go over. The great fault with our scholars is, they are superficial. -It will require time to accomplish all you desire; but with the right -effort it can be done. Make haste, but make haste slowly.” - -Owing to my long walk, and my not having any recitation the first -hour, Mr. Harlan did not oblige me to come in before ten; and I was -also privileged to leave at three. This would give me some time to -help Jennie; and for myself, I knew I should study better in Miss -Grimshaw’s little back parlor than in the large school-room at Rockdale. - -Returning home, I had just reached the point where the narrow white -line of a brook became visible, when Jennie bounded up the pathway, -her round cheeks all aglow, her blue sun-bonnet thrown back, and the -sunshine playing with the loose meshes of her hair. She could hardly -steady her voice, so eager was she to know of the day. - -“Tell me all about it, brother. Miss Grimshaw said Rockdale was such a -lovely place. Oh, I am sure it cannot be more beautiful there than it -is here. Are there any little girls that go to the school? Did you see -any to-day; and are there any so small as I am?” - -“I did not see any so small as you are, Jennie.” - -“Oh dear, I do so wish I could go with you. Don’t you think I could -walk easily?” - -“Not every day, Jennie; and besides, we are going to study in the -evening, you know; and what I learn at school I will teach you at home.” - -“Will you? Oh, that is so good;” and she clung to my hand, this little -sister that my mother had said I must love and care for. Then she -drew me down to the brook, its waters leaping over the stones with -a gurgling music, like the trill of a laughing child; the sunshine -glinting through the pines and climbing up the bank to our feet. - -It was a scene of peculiar beauty, and dear Jennie enjoyed it with -a keen relish. I tried, but could not enter into the same sense of -enjoyment. To tell the truth, I was weary, perhaps hungry, and my new -book did not seem to me quite as easy as I expected to find it. - -Then I recollected that, in climbing the mountain, the object was not -accomplished by one effort, but by a succession of continued struggles. -It was by pressing through the undergrowth, catching hold of the cliff, -going around the rocks, creeping where it was impossible to walk, yet -advancing steadily all the time, that the ascent was made. Mr. Kirby -had told me it would be just so in my studies; and I looked above me -into the bright blue sky, and thought of the prayer offered in that -jewelled dell--the prayer that I might be led by God’s Spirit, guarded -and guided by his grace, and that a path might open for me. It had -opened thus far; and was not this in answer to Mr. Kirby’s prayer and -my mother’s supplications? and again I resolved to use my time wisely. - -The oak grows stronger by the very winds that toss its boughs; so the -heart, from the burdens that apparently weigh it down, gathers new -power to soar above the mists of gloom and discontent. - -“You have not noticed my book,” I said at length, holding out my Latin -grammar; “and besides, you forget that I have not been to dinner.” - -“It is so pleasant here, brother; don’t it rest you?” and her arms were -twined about my neck. - -“Yes; but my lesson for to-morrow will require all my time,” I answered. - -“Mr. Willett came to see us to-day,” said Jennie as we went home. “He -spoke kindly of you, and said he supposed you would not want to come -back after you had been to the academy; but if you did, there would be -a place for you; and he told Miss Grimshaw that if you needed books, he -would get them for you. He said a good deal more.” - -“Perhaps he would rather you would not repeat it all. Did he know that -you heard?” - -“Oh yes. It is not wrong to tell what he said before me, is it?” - -“Perhaps not; but Mr. Kirby said that we should not fall into the habit -of repeating what people say, unless necessary to do so; that in this -way much scandal is floated about, which, had it not been repeated, -would have died out immediately.” - -“Oh, brother, I did not mean to say any thing wrong.” - -“Neither have you, Jennie. I thought at first you probably overheard -him. There is surely no harm in repeating to me simply what he said -before you, especially when he spoke so kindly.” - -That night there was a happy meeting in Miss Grimshaw’s back parlor. -Mrs. Jeffries came down with her first instalment of eatables on my -account; and she met us so warmly, taking Jennie on her knee, and -asking me all the little minutiæ of school life. - -“You think you will like, then?” and she played with my hair in a -motherly way. - -“The only fear is, that I shall have to stop before I have half -accomplished my desire.” - -“One step at a time,” said Miss Grimshaw, while Jennie was so tired -with her long walk and the unusual excitement of the day, that she went -to sleep with her head on my shoulder, in the very effort of trying to -master a new lesson. - -Friday came, and true to his promise, Frank Clavers ordered two horses -in the room of one. It was a glorious afternoon, and as we leaped into -the saddle, I felt a pride in being able to rein in and manage my -horse handsomely. He was a fine-spirited animal, that Esquire Clavers -kept for his own use. It was to oblige Frank, of course, that I was -permitted this little indulgence. - -Riding was the only thing perhaps that I could do well, and this I -had learned at Mr. Jeffries’, and I knew that here I was superior to -the other boys. So with a questionable pride I cantered round the -grounds, and raised my cap as I passed the young ladies at the window. -I enjoyed, as I never had done before, the idea of doing something -well; and I have since learned, what I did not know then, that skill in -horsemanship is considered by all no mean accomplishment. - -“That was handsomely done,” said Frank. “Pray where did you learn to -ride so well?” - -“You never knew perhaps that I lived two years with Mr. Jeffries. My -business was to assist in the stable. It was there I learned to ride.” - -[Illustration] - -What a race we had down the street, and how Frank’s gay laugh resounded -through the valley. - -“This is something to look forward to, Marston,” said he as we reined -up at his own door. “I have never seen Hunter carry himself better. -It’s all because you know how to ride. Next week we’ll have just such -another ride. It’s glorious.” - -“I have enjoyed it intensely,” I answered, while a secret sense of -shame crept over me at the idea of being puffed up because I could -ride, when in my books I knew so very little; and for that evening I -studied harder because of my foolishness. - -[Illustration] - - - - -VI. - - -Autumn had run up her banner of red and gold, and under the spreading -folds I had walked every day to Rockdale, and as steadily as the week -came round rode home with Frank Clavers on Friday, until Hunter came -to know me quite as well as his master. Still, after the first ride, -I had never felt the same degree of satisfaction. To ride well no -longer seemed to me such a desirable acquisition. To master my Latin as -readily was now my ambition, and to this I bent all my energies. - -As the winter deepened, the walk to Rockdale proved as bleak as before -it had been delightful, and the north winds, sweeping down through the -mountain gorges, made my cheeks and ears tingle. Still I could not -afford to lose a day. Frank was to stay three years, and then four more -in college; but Frank Clavers’ father was rich, and I was dependent -upon my own toil. - -As I looked forward, for the first time one night I yielded to -despondency; my book closed, and my head fell forward on the casement. -Far above, the bright stars were shining. It was His hand that -sustained them. He prescribed their courses, and kept them within their -limits; and although I did not understand how, I still felt that his -watch and care was over me; and with this feeling came strength. - -Looking back, as we did in going up the mountain, I could feel that I -had accomplished much; and still it was so little of what I craved. I -needed to be again reminded that it was by one step at a time that the -summit was reached; and that, had I stood at the foot of the mountain -and attempted to leap up by a few great efforts, it would never have -been done. - -My class-mates were boys accustomed to school life, and still I knew -that some of them hardly looked in their books till they came to -recite. At first I thought Mr. Harlan was to blame; they came to study, -and they ought to be made to do so. Still, I have since found it is -not an easy matter to compel pupils to do what they do not wish to do, -what they will not do cheerfully. Doubtless he did all that he could -to incite them to study; and this failing, he allowed them to drift -on, hoping perhaps they would in time wake up to the responsibility of -wisely improving their time and opportunities. - -Another advantage I had gained at Mr. Jeffries’ was to be seen in my -declamation. To stimulate my memory, I had learned nearly the whole -of my English Reader by heart, and these lessons I had been in the -habit of repeating to the servants in the kitchen, and sometimes, if I -had a moment’s leisure, to myself in the stable. It was in the latter -place that Mr. Jeffries had surprised me, the mention of which he often -made, sure of a laugh at my expense, and over which I grew extremely -sensitive. As declamation was a regular weekly exercise in school, I -soon found that the habit had been of great use to me; not only could I -readily commit to memory, but there was no feeling of timidity, and I -could speak before others without a thought of myself, leaving me free -to profit by the suggestions of my teacher. - -Prominent in the memory of those days is my long daily walk, with its -frequent concomitants of deep snows, leaden skies, and bitter winds. -One day when the cold was at its height, Miss Grimshaw went to the -door with me, and urged me not to think of going to Rockdale. I had -just begun to translate, and one of my sentences troubled me till rest -seemed impossible; I must go. Neither could I look for a ride, as -grandma suggested. Action was necessary; and buttoning my coat closely, -I told her I could easily go, the sun would soon make an impression. -“It is not half as severe as some days last week.” - -Accordingly I started; but before I left the village I was obliged to -stop repeating my lesson aloud; my teeth chattered and my ears were -tingling. I tried to run, but the stiff frozen snow would not allow of -this extra effort. A half mile from town I met Dr. Graham. - -“It is too cold to go to Rockdale to-day, Marston;” and he opened his -buffalo robes and offered me a seat. - -“Thank you, Dr. Graham,” I answered as well as my chattering teeth -would allow, “it wont be any worse; I can get there.” Again he tried to -turn me; but no, I must recite my lesson, and I needed explanations; I -felt that I could not wait another day. - -On I went, the wind rushing and roaring through the leafless branches -of the trees. I rubbed my ears with my mittens, while my feet were so -numb I could hardly walk. Midway I began to fear that I should actually -perish. Should I go back, or should I go on? I glanced at the mountain, -with the proud consciousness that I had been to the top. “Never give -up,” Mr. Kirby said. It was my duty to go to school. I had started; I -would go. - -I gave one glance at the marble column of the waterfall, with its -sculptured ridges and diamond points, the feathery spray caught up and -congealed, standing out in bold relief against the clear blue sky, more -beautiful than art could ever hope to imitate. It was worth a great -effort to look upon such a winter picture and I sprang forward with -renewed energy, trying to forget my numbed feet and frozen fingers. - -It was harder than I had imagined, however. All the tales I have since -read of suffering on account of cold, seem only a dim outline of what -I then experienced. As I left the hollow I met Philip Allen with his -wood-sled. He had a small load, and was going home as fast as he could -goad on his oxen. - -“I never saw such a day as this,” said Philip; “you had better get on -to the sled.” - -“I should freeze standing still,” I answered. “I must go on now;” and I -began to feel sorry that I had started. It was indeed a terrible day. -My father had fallen in the snow. What if it should be my fate too? - -“Never give up,” said I to myself, and I felt that I should like to -have Mr. Kirby know that I was trying. At length I became aware of a -new sensation stealing over me: it was with difficulty I could put one -foot before the other; the beauty was fading out of the sky; I only -wished to lie down in the snow. I forgot that I was going to school; -strange shapes floated round me, while strains of sweet music soothed -and quieted me. I was no longer cold, but, lapped in a delicious dream, -seemed to be floating towards a palace of dazzling splendor. - -The next that I remember, I was in a nice warm room. It was not the -school-room, although Mr. and Mrs. Harlan stood beside me. My coat was -off, and the good woman was rubbing my hands in her own. Then I saw -there were others present, and that not only my hands, but my whole -body had been rubbed vigorously. I was suffering a terrible stinging -pain. - -“Drink this,” said Mrs. Harlan, as a bowl of hot tea was handed me; -“it will help you to get warm.” More to please her than from any other -feeling, I drained it off, and ere long felt a genial glow through all -my members. - -Seeing that the danger was over, Mr. Harlan went to the school-room; -and at noon all the boys and some of the girls crowded around me. Such -a crying and shaking of hands! And then I learned how near to death I -had come. - -Jerry, the Irish man of all work, had seen me stagger along, and -finally fall. His kind Irish heart told him at once it was the cold, -and springing down the road, he carried me in his arms to the kitchen, -from which Mrs. Harlan had me taken at once to her own room. - -“To think of your coming to school such a day, when we that live in -the house can hardly study at all,” said Henry Alden. Robert Lovell, -however, said, “I can understand it: you could not have stayed at home, -had you tried. I went one winter nearly as far; but it was not so cold; -neither was the snow so deep as this winter.” - -I recited my lesson in Mrs. Harlan’s room; and it seemed to me Mr. -Harlan was never so kind before. He gave me all the explanations that I -needed, and in such a manner that I understood perfectly. - -“I trust we shall not have another such a day; but if we do, you must -not expose yourself in this way again. Promise me;” and he took both my -hands. “It is too great a risk.” - -“If you say so,” I answered; “but I shall not like to stay at home.” - -“You will study, and I shall not mark you as absent without cause.” - -As I was taking my books and making ready to start for home, Mr. Harlan -said, - -“Jerry will take you home in his sleigh; he has an errand down, and it -wont trouble him at all.” - -Mrs. Harlan brought out a pair of fur mittens and slipped over mine, -and got me a large grey shawl that protected me entirely. - -“You need not return them,” said the sweet-voiced woman; “I have been -looking all winter for somebody that needed them.” She shook me warmly -by the hand, and Mr. Harlan saw me down to the sleigh. - -“No right effort is ever lost, Marston; you aim to do what you do well -and faithfully, and God will open a path for you when he sees that you -can do something better, depend upon it, my son. Thank him for sparing -your life, and devote it to his service.” - -The buffalo robe was nicely tucked around me, and the grey shawl pulled -over my head; and feeling for my books, to make sure that I had them, -we started. - -“Niver saw the like of such a day,” said Jerry. “If I had not seen -you in the morning-- It was about ten you fell.” Again I shuddered, -and thought of my poor dead father, as near our home as I was to the -academy; and in that blinding storm we failed to see him. - -The next day was Saturday; and as I sat in Miss Grimshaw’s back room, -petted a little more than usual by Jennie and grandma, I thought of Mr. -Harlan’s words, “No right effort is ever lost.” And it seemed that I -could hear again Mr. Kirby’s voice, “Whatever you do, do well, and God -will open a path to something better.” Since then they have come to me -often in characters of light, to brighten my darkest hours. They have -helped me labor on. When my heart was sore with heaviness, they have -aided me in adhering to the right in despite of ridicule and temptation. - -“No right effort is ever lost.” “Do what you do well, and God will open -a path to you, when he sees that you can do something better.” Bind -the sentiment to your heart, if you are a patient climber, and take -courage. But I had not yet found the way to the Source of all strength, -nor learned the secret of the only true and noble life. - -At the close of the term, in February, we had an examination. This -was new to me, and caused me no little uneasiness. I had never been -through with such a day, and as a matter of course I felt not a -little frightened at the idea of being questioned before such a crowd -as the boys told me always came. Mr. and Mrs. Harlan were very kind -and patient teachers, and I was so fresh and new in my studies, that -I trembled in view of the blunders I felt sure I should make before -strangers and critics. - -“All Terryville will be here,” said Henry Alden; “but then you need not -mind: you are the best one we have in arithmetic, and history too; and -as for your Latin, why you are only a beginner; they wont expect much; -and in declamation you know you will take the lead.” - -“But I have never spoken before so many.” - -“That’s nothing; you’ll get accustomed to it in a few times. We don’t -mind it a feather. It a’n’t half of them that know.” - -The day came. Miss Grimshaw and Jennie rode with Mr. Willett in a nice -sleigh, with a double set of bells. Then there was Mr. Farnham and Mr. -Wentworth, ministers from Terryville, with Dr. Graham and Dr. Stiles, -and several grey-haired men with gold-bowed glasses and ivory-headed -canes, and with books in their hands, evidently ready to criticize -closely. - -“That’s the way they always do,” said Henry; “but if you could peep -over their shoulders, ten chances to one their books are wrong side up.” - -Calm and composed, Henry Alden made his comments. He was an amiable, -kindly-disposed lad, but caring nothing for study. Still he managed -to get along, and examination-days had no terrors for him. His easy, -nonchalant air surprised me, and still more the light opinion he had -formed of the learning of some of the visitors. - -Around the sides of the room sat the ladies from Terryville; but to me -there was no face that looked kinder than Miss Grimshaw’s, no beauty -that began to equal my little sister Jennie’s. - -At eleven o’clock the class that had finished arithmetic were called. -I felt the blood rushing over me at fever heat, my fingers tingling, -and my cheeks burning. Mr. Farnham questioned us, giving examples to -each. The first sum he gave me was in interest, the second in the cube -root. I did not tremble from fear that I could not do the examples, as -I knew perfectly well there was not a sum in the book I could not do; -but I wanted to do it easily, handsomely, and in order. I gave a quick -glance to Jennie, and the calm expression of the sweet face swept away -all trepidation. I crossed the platform, and took up the crayon. Never -was I more collected; I forgot there were others in the room; I only -saw Jennie, and I knew by the expression of her quiet face that she -expected me to do well. She would be disappointed if I failed. I would -not fail. There was no reason why I should. - -The example was on the board, and I stood with pointer in hand ready -for explanation. Contrary to my expectation, my voice did not tremble; -and when I finished, I was prouder than I have ever been since. - -Then followed algebra, as far as we had gone. - -“It is well done,” said Mr. Wentworth with a pleasant smile. “Such -examples make boys think; and when once they begin to think, then they -begin to learn in reality. Perhaps you sometimes wonder why such and -such examples were put into the algebra; you can see no use in them, -except to puzzle you. I will tell you. It is to make you deep, earnest -thinkers. Boys that can think about their sums, solve their problems, -and explain them readily, can also think about something else. That is -why you study algebra, and that is why you are drilled so thoroughly -in Latin and Greek. It is to make you think patiently, and so learn to -overcome difficulties. Learn to think then, and never give up because -you do not understand what practical use it is to be to you.” - -And as this was the last lesson on the programme, he took occasion to -tell us the grand incentive to all this labor was because God had given -us minds of untold worth; that these minds were to live for ever, and -the more we acquired, so much the more should we be able to understand -the works of the Creator, so much better should we be able to discharge -the duties incumbent upon us, so much better able to work for Him who -has given us these minds, who has so liberally endowed us with all -these wonderful attributes of the soul. And he urged us all to remember -our Creator in the days of our youth, to give our hearts to him when -young, that we might be led and guarded by him along life’s pathway. - -This made me think of Mr. Kirby. “Do good men all talk alike?” asked -Jennie, as soon as the bell struck for recess. - -After dinner, which we took with Mr. and Mrs. Harlan, we were again -marched into the school-room, and examined closely in Latin. As -beginners we came first, and I was surprised that we received so much -praise, expecting as a matter of course that this would only be awarded -the advanced classes; but Mr. Wentworth said, - -“The foundation is the chief thing. Once well grounded in the -rudiments, and the rest is sure. Here is where the work is to be done.” - -At night Dr. Graham shook hands with us kindly, and said that he -thought our village was well represented. Frank Clavers had been sick -for a few weeks, and obliged to stay at home. Still, his class had -well sustained themselves, and Frank had always been at the head. Mr. -Farnham and Mr. Wentworth were particularly kind, and Jennie could -hardly contain herself as we rode home. - -“It was better a great deal than the boy in the book; he broke down -several times, and you did not fail once,” and she slid her mittened -hand into mine. - -“Fail! I guess he didn’t,” cried Mr. Willett. “Why, he came out the -best there. It was no bad thing his being with me last summer; nothing -like practice for a boy;” and Mr. Willett enjoyed with evident -satisfaction the idea that whatever knowledge I had of mathematics was -based on the practice I had in his grocery. - -It had not been specified how long I was to remain at Rockdale. “Till -spring,” Miss Grimshaw said; but whether that meant April or May was to -me uncertain. What was my surprise, however, when May came and I asked -if I was not to stop, and she answered, “The term is so nearly out it -would be a pity for you to leave. I have spoken to Mr. Harlan about it, -and he wishes you to remain; you must work hard enough in vacation to -make up for it.” - -The term closed in June, and then there was a final examination of a -week. Frank Clavers was again with us, and as usual at the head of his -class. - - - - -VII. - - -By the mass of school-boys, vacation is hailed not only as a respite -from study, but also as a time to indulge in that “dolce far niente” -life[A] so refreshing after months of prolonged effort. Not so in -my case. I must not take advantage of Miss Grimshaw’s kindness, nor -encroach too far on the benevolence of Mrs. Jeffries. Through their -goodness I had been enabled to finish the term, and now I must work as -faithfully as I had studied. - -As there was little to do in the grocery and Mr. Willett already had a -boy, I thought best to try the farmers. True, I knew little of haying -or harvesting; but I was strong, and willing to do my best. - -The next day after school closed I set out to find employment. Mr. -Cosgrove at the Corners was the first one to whom I applied. - -“No; you have been to school for the year; of course that has spoiled -you for labor.” - -“But mine has not been an easy life, Mr. Cosgrove. I walked three miles -to the academy and back every day. I can work just as well, for all -that?” - -“No, indeed; books spoil every one for work. There never was a better -boy than Farley Steadman, till he took it into his head to go to -college; and now I would not let him drive a cart through a pair of -bars. He don’t know any thing; it has just spoiled him;” and the old -man drove the nail into the fence he was strengthening, with more force -than usual. - -“Do you know of any one, Mr. Cosgrove, likely to want help?” - -“Why, yes, every one wants help if he can get it; I do, but I don’t -want school-boys.” - -I walked away not a little disconcerted. To get work would, I thought, -be an easy matter. I had never for one moment supposed my going to -school would be the least drawback. The next place was Mr. Colton’s; -he had just engaged all the help he would need for the summer. “Farmer -White on the hill might hire you,” he said; so I trudged off to farmer -White’s. “No, I have rented my farm, and keep no one myself.” - -What to do I hardly knew; I had walked all the morning, and was tired. -Besides, I did not know of any one else that would be likely to want -extra help for the summer. - -“There’s Mr. Wyman at the Cross,” said farmer White; “I shouldn’t -wonder if he might want you. You can try him; he is a mighty fine man, -and his wife is a good Christian woman.” - -I started for Mr. Wyman’s. It was five miles from Mr. White’s, and the -hot June sun was pouring down his strongest beams. I walked fast, but -I could not help thinking; and almost before I was aware, I seemed to -feel the visible presence of Mr. Kirby, to hear again the prayer he -made in the mountain temple. I remembered too that he had told me how -much distressed he was when the doctor first told him to go into the -mountains. He had laid out his summer’s work, and was not willing to -leave it. Days passed; he grew worse, and again his physician advised -him to spend a few weeks among the hills. “I called it so much waste -time,” he said--“time in which I could do nothing for myself, or for -others. Yet it has not proved so.” - -No, I knew it had not, for it was his constant aim to serve his -heavenly Father, and if he had for a time left his work in one place, -still he labored for souls wherever he was; consequently his daily life -among the hills blossomed into sweet charities which would ripen into -sweeter fruit. - -What did I not owe him? Jennie too had remembered his words, and -studied the little Bible he gave her, first because he had given it, -and afterwards because its teachings responded to her spirit’s need. It -is hardly possible for one to be a constant reader of that blessed book -without a marked effect on heart and life. The diligent student of the -Bible will have his tastes refined, his affections made more pure, his -aspirations elevated, and his whole moral and mental tone immeasurably -exalted. I could see this in Jennie, and I trusted there was something -of the like in my own case. But as yet I knew nothing of the pardoning -love of the Redeemer. - -I gained the brow of the hill from which I could see Mr. Wyman’s house, -and look down on the rich field of grain waving in the sunlight. Every -thing had a fresh, tidy appearance, and spoke of good management on the -part of Mr. Wyman. Looking along the road, I saw a boy of my own size -coming leisurely along; and as he approached I saw it was Ezra Metcalf, -a lad that I had seen in Claverton. - -“A long time since I have seen you, Ezra,” I said as he came up. “Are -you going to the village?” - -“Yes; I can’t stand it any longer. Old Wyman is so cross there’s no -doing any thing with him. It is work, work, work; and when I would -think it was all done, he’d send me into the house to wait on his wife.” - -“Men hire boys to work,” I answered. - -“Yes; but all the time is a little too much. Rain or shine, it made no -difference. It seemed to be all that he thought of, to get as much work -out of me as he could.” - -I listened to his statement without any misgiving, and when he had -finished, I told him of my purpose to ask Mr. Wyman for work. - -“You had better not, if you want any flesh left on your bones,” he -answered. - -I bade him good-by, and we walked on, each his own way. - -I found Mr. Wyman in his field hoeing corn. He did not stop as I came -up and made known my errand. - -“Yes, I want a smart, go-ahead kind of boy; one who knows how work -should be done, and will do it faithfully, whether I am by or not, if I -could only find one of that sort.” - -“Will you try me, Mr. Wyman?” - -“Have you ever worked on a farm?” - -“No, sir; but I am willing to work, and I think I could do whatever -there is to be done.” - -“What have you been doing for the last year?” - -“I have studied at the Rockdale academy.” - -“What is your name?” - -“Marston Howe.” - -“Marston Howe! I have heard Mr. Farnham speak of you as a good scholar. -If you work as you study, I will take you.” - -“I shall aim to do so, Mr. Wyman.” - -“Let me see you hoe;” and he rested a moment. - -“That’s right, thrust your hoe deep; in that way you cut off the roots, -and they will not be apt to sprout again; while if you hoe lightly, you -only clip off the tops, and after the first rain they will be quite as -bad as they are now.” - -It was new work to me. I went to bed at night tired as I never was -before in my life; and but for the remembrance of Mr. Kirby, I doubt -if I should have had courage to commence anew in the morning. But life -is something more than sleeping and eating. It is the maturing into -noble deeds, the consciousness of mental power, the exercise of that -power in heroic self-conquest, and in doing good to others. I thought -of this as I arose and looked up to the mountain we had once climbed. -There it stood clearly defined against the calm, pure sky, its sides -radiant with golden light that had not yet reached the valley. The -noble manhood that Mr. Kirby exemplified must be sought with tireless -footsteps and self-sacrificing heart. - -The farmer was out as I came down. - -“So you did not oversleep yourself,” said he as he bade me good-morning. - -“I did not rise as early as usual this morning, Mr. Wyman; hoeing is -new business. I shall get accustomed to it, and can sleep just as well -after it as after any thing else, I suppose.” - -“It is hard work, and so is every thing else. Some people make play out -of it, but that is not my way. I was brought up to think that any thing -that was worth doing at all, was worth doing well.” - -There was no lack of work at Mr. Wyman’s, neither was it always -the same thing. Sometimes I felt like murmuring when, after a hard -day’s work in the field, I was obliged to take the horses to the -blacksmith’s, or carry corn to the mill, mend fences, or do something -else of like nature. Mr. Wyman did not hold to sitting still. There -were no idle moments, all were filled up; and when night came, I was -so tired that I fell asleep without so much as a verse in my Bible. - -Then haying came on; and while the hands swung their scythes with an -easy grace that I tried in vain to imitate, it fell to my part to -do the raking. There was something so sweet and fragrant about the -new-mown hay, that I enjoyed haying much better than hoeing. - -Once Jennie came to see me in the hay-field, and her dimpled face -lit up with excess of joy as she tossed the clover and chased the -butterflies, her heart full of sweet-springing thoughts. Resting a few -moments on the hay, with her glad blue eyes looking up into the sky, -she said a few hearty words about God’s love in opening up a path to -us. Young as she was, she was beginning to feel the sweet influence of -his Spirit in her heart, inciting her to love and serve him, believing -that his promises were sure, and that he would never leave nor forsake -her. - -Sweet little comforter; she hardly knew from what her words often saved -me, desponding as I not unfrequently was, and inclined to go back -instead of forward, feeling tempted to half do my work, and never dream -of any thing more than present comfort. - -Coming to me in my need, repeating the words Mr. Kirby had spoken, -going over with her Sabbath-school hymns and texts, she reminded me -more and more of our sainted mother, and stimulated me more than -words can tell to make use of every means in my power to get good and -do good. Thus my evil thoughts did not gain the ascendency; and by -continual striving I grew to enjoy my labor as my study, doing both -with a will and determination to succeed. - -Every Saturday I walked five miles, for the purpose of hearing -Jennie’s weekly lesson and walking to church with her on the Sabbath. - -“Do not forget the Sabbath,” had been one of the last injunctions of -my dear mother; and when tempted, as I often was, to stay from church -or from Sabbath-school because I was tired, or my dress was old and -patched, or to read and study since I had so little time in the week, -the thought of transgressing against her wish, rather than because it -was a positive command of God, has often led me to his house, trying -to cultivate a proper spirit on his holy day. And now that I have -learned more of his law and of the wonderful plan of redemption for a -guilty world, I bless his great name that I was early inclined to keep -his Sabbath. Let me ask any little boy or girl who is trying to be a -climber, to remember the Sabbath; not to think idle, foolish, wicked -thoughts, neither to make companions of those who are accustomed to -doing this; but reading God’s word, thinking of his love, listening to -his servants, and praying for the indwelling of his Spirit. - -The Sabbath before the fall term of the academy was to commence, Mr. -Harlan preached at Claverton. His text was, “The entrance of thy word -giveth light; it giveth understanding unto the simple.” He spoke of -light as the great vivifier, the life-giving principle, the beautifier. -It paints the leaf of the lily and the rose, veins the violet, and -tinges the varied landscape with beauty. Without sunlight the visual -scope would be limited, and the beautiful around us would fail to -awaken our interest. - -Before the Creator uttered that great fiat, “Let there be light,” -darkness was upon the face of the great deep; all matter was in a -circumfused mass, no ray of light to penetrate the gloom; and when -there was light, it presented the earth without form and void. But when -the sun was set in the firmament of heaven, then the earth brought -forth grass, herbs, trees, and flowers; even the angels were charmed -with its beauty, and the morning stars sang together for joy. - -So without the Lord Jesus Christ, who is the great light of the moral -firmament, all the light man has can only present a world without -form, void of all beauty and all good; and it is only so far as “the -Day-spring from on high has visited us, to give light to them that sit -in darkness and in the shadow of death,” that the moral earth begins -to shoot forth the choicest plants and to produce the richest fruits, -so that the sons of God shout for joy and heaven rings with anthems of -praise. - -The Scriptures set forth the birth of Christ under the figure of the -rising sun. How glorious is this figure! When the heart drinks in the -beauty of his words, when the light of his countenance shines upon -the repentant soul, what a flood of rapture thrills the entire being! -Christ is to us what the sun is to the material world, the dispenser of -light, life, and joy. - -We have seen vegetables growing in corners or cellars, pale and -delicate, creeping feebly towards a ray of light that penetrated some -small crevice, like beings in distress stretching out their hands for -help. Like those delicate and sickly plants, watching eagerly every -ray of light, feeling their way through the darkness, hoping to find -some opening that would lead out into a world of beauty, is often the -experience of the individual Christian. Religion is not a thing of -gloom and clouds. It is a lamp, a light, a sun; the very thing to cheer -a desolate heart, and to brighten still more a cheerful, happy spirit. - -“That was what made Mr. Kirby so good and happy, wasn’t it?” said -Jennie as we went home. - -“And Mr. Brisbane,” I continued. “I often wondered how he could be so -happy when he was always suffering.” - -It had always been a habit since we had been with Miss Grimshaw to -repeat as much of the sermon as we could to grandma, as we called Miss -Grimshaw’s mother. This morning the sermon was easy to remember; and -when we finished the poor woman took off her spectacles, and wiped the -tears from her wrinkled face. She was one of God’s chosen ones; but -her life had been darkened with much sorrow. Of eight children, she -had buried all but one. Still was she uniformly cheerful and happy. -A simple untaught woman, her understanding had been developed by the -reading of His word, and his precious promises were familiar utterances -in her humble home. - -Monday morning I rose early; the dew-drops sparkling on the grass, -and the birds filling the trees with music. Jennie walked through the -village and beyond the mill with me. Stopping to say good-by, we heard -a noise of distress, and a fluttering of wings in a thicket near the -roadside. - -Jennie was attracted at once, her loving heart responsive to the agony -of the fluttering birds. On careful inspection, we found two little -birdlings on the ground. They had fallen out of their nest, and though -able to hop a little, could not fly. - -“Come, brother, put them back again,” and she held the little panting -things, while I parted the leaves and found the nest, standing on -tiptoe to put them in, and then retreating a little distance to see -what the old ones would do. - -“Fallen out of their nest, just like us, brother; but God will take -care of us. He has, and he will;” and she flung her arms round my neck -and kissed me good-by, and I ran on as fast as I could. - -“Like birds fallen out of our nest.” I thought of it till I reached Mr. -Wyman’s. I had lost a little time, for Jennie could not walk as fast as -I could. Breakfast was nearly over; but Mr. Wyman was not cross, and -Mrs. Wyman gave me a cup of coffee, and a plate filled with what she -had set away for me, and for which my early walk had given me a keen -relish. - -The haying was over; but there was grain to cut, and I took my sickle -for the first time. All day my heart was light and cheerful; I felt -the influence of the Sabbath rest, and I seemed continually to hear -Mr. Harlan’s text, “The entrance of thy word giveth light; it giveth -understanding to the simple.” I resolved that I would study my Bible; -it should be to me a daily friend and companion. Mr. Kirby’s words too -went ringing through my brain: “Do what you do well, and God will open -a path where He sees that you can do something better.” Then Jennie -and the birds came up again; and thus with a continued succession of -pleasant thoughts, the day went happily away. - -Mr. Wyman was kind, and more jovial than usual; and after the evening -meal, when I had filled the buckets with water, and helped Mrs. Wyman -in the dairy, I drew up my chair to the table and commenced reading the -weekly paper. Presently Mr. Wyman left his seat on the porch, knocked -the ashes from his pipe, laid it on the mantel, and said, - -“Wife, have you told Marston what Mr. Farnham said?” - -“I have not had time; you had best tell him, papa.” - -I looked up in surprise. What had I done now? Was it because I was -a few minutes behind time in the morning? There was no room for -conjecture. Taking the arm-chair, Mr. Wyman began: - -“Have you any plans for the fall and winter, Marston?” - -“I was hoping that you would need me for the fall, Mr. Wyman; and in -the winter I should like to go to school,” I answered with a choking -voice. - -“Mr. Farnham was here Saturday night, after you went to Claverton. He -spoke of you, and said that you was trying to study, and hoped to go -through college. Do you really think of any thing like this?” - -“If I can, Mr. Wyman, although I am sometimes afraid it will take -a long time. I can only hope to go to school winters, at least for -several years.” - -“That is just what Mr. Farnham said, and as we no longer have a boy to -educate, he made me more than half believe that I ought to help you. He -said that you could nearly pay your board with errands, and odd jobs -for Mr. Harlan; and I told him I would pay you wages through this month -and the next. So if you want to go to school, you had better begin -Wednesday. The more one knows, the better they may get along. Learn all -you can, and try and make a man. Boys sometimes think their employers -have no hearts. There has not been a day since you came here, in which -I have not remembered my Willie, and felt for you. I could have made -your work easier, but that would not be the way to make you a prompt, -useful, industrious man.” - -My head bowed low while he spoke. I wished that I could live over the -past months. I had tried; but there had been many days when I had -dragged on, working because obliged to, yet not cheerful and happy. So -many resolves I had made and broken; so many times felt like running -away, and hiding myself out of sight and sound, longing to be free from -responsibility and from effort, and then in a moment ashamed to think -I should so forget, should be so weak and vacillating. Could I only -live the vacation over again, I would be more watchful, more patient in -trial. - -It is thus we ever feel, when we look back. Yet do we always gain -wisdom from the retrospect? The future instead of the past calls for -our resolves, and the wail of memory blending with the whispers of -conscience, should be our incentive to a more useful life. - -But when Mrs. Wyman came in with some nice new shirts that were once -Willie’s, and a handsome blue cloth jacket, that “looked so like the -dear boy,” she said, I broke down entirely. - -“I do not deserve all this,” I said, choking down the tears. She put -her hand on mine. - -“We give you these, Marston, to show that we approve your effort. -Mr. Farnham told us how you went to school last year. There were no -obstacles you did not overcome. A long walk twice a day, with bitter, -stinging cold, and still you made no excuse. You have worked faithfully -during vacation, and Mr. Wyman will let your wages run through the next -month. But you cannot go to school without clothes; we have no one to -wear them now;” and tears were on both of our faces. “Here’s a cap, and -boots too, that were Willie’s. I shall be glad to see you wear them. -Willie loved books. He would have gone to college, had he lived.” - -I could not answer; it was all so sudden, so unexpected. I could look -back and see so many places where I had failed. With a full heart I -hurried up to my room, thankful that I was to go to school, that a path -had opened; and resolving anew that each moment should be spent to the -best advantage. - -How it would gladden Jennie’s heart. “One step at a time,” she had -whispered to me so often; “Mr. Kirby said that was enough for you to -plan now. All that you are required to do is the work of the present -hour, and then forward to the next. You will do it yet, Marston, I know -you will.” - -Borne up on the encouragement of her words, I felt that I should. It -would take years; but others had gone over the ground, and I could do -the same; and with the thought of Mr. Kirby and Jennie, I fell asleep. - -[Illustration] - - - - -VIII. - - -It was said by a celebrated divine, “What we wish to be, that we -become.” And perhaps it is so; for when our Creator allows a great -longing to fill the soul, in the wish itself lies the surest pledge of -its future realization. It was thus with me in reference to going to -school. In addition to what Mrs. Wyman had given me, Miss Grimshaw had -provided me an outfit, for it seemed she had an inkling that I was to -return in September. - -I spent one night with Jennie, and Wednesday found me at Rockdale. Mr. -Wyman had taken me over in his buggy: he had business at Terryville, -he said, and would like to call at the academy; he used to know Mr. -Harlan. Taking a kind leave after a short call, he said, - -“When your money gives out, don’t be afraid to call on me. You can pay -me when you get through, if you like. If not, it will only be a trifle -of what I should have done for Willie.” - -This was the man whom I had often called cold and unfeeling since -that morning on which I met Ezra Metcalf going back to the village: -no sympathy for a young heart in its struggles, no encouragement to -give one trying to do right. How my heart smote me now, as I stood and -watched him till he was out of sight; and then I tried to concentrate -all my thoughts on my lesson. - -The first day of the term is always a broken one. Lessons are laid out, -but not expected to be studied; new scholars coming in, and old ones to -greet. Frank Clavers and Robert Lovell were delighted to have me back -again, and Robert drew me into the same old seat. - -“Not that,” said Mr. Harlan laughing. “I look to you for assistance as -well as study. Pupils that I know I allow to sit back; the seats near -the desk are for new-comers;” and together we went down the aisle to -the back seat. - -Robert Lovell did not board in the academy. He was the only son of a -widowed mother, who lived in Terryville, and he paid his tuition by -teaching a class of the smallest boys. Hence he was looked upon as both -teacher and pupil; and his good sense and judicious bearing won the -entire regard of those with whom he had to do. Of Scotch descent, large -and overgrown, he looked much older than he really was. As a scholar, -he was deep rather than brilliant, with a powerful memory, and fine -appreciation of the beautiful. He was studying for the ministry, and -his heart was alive to the importance of the work; but why he gave me -such marked demonstrations of his friendship, I never knew; while for -him I soon felt a warmth of regard second only to that given Mr. Kirby. -Further advanced in his studies, he was of great assistance to me in -my lessons--not by helping with translations, solving problems, etc., -but telling me circumstances connected with the time he was studying -such and such a book, what he was obliged to do, his walks to school, -and the efforts he had to make; giving me to see how small was my labor -in comparison with his, my self-denial nothing like that he had known. -Then drawing his chair nearer, and taking my hand, he would tell me the -sweet story of the cross, painting in such colors the matchless purity -and beauty of a life it was ours to imitate, that I forgot myself and -my books, and only saw the bleeding, dying Saviour; only heard the -sweet accents of his love, “Come unto me.” - -I shall never forget the first Sabbath at Rockdale. It did not seem -that I could be denied spending the day with Jennie, and still Mr. -Harlan had specified that I was to remain there. Try as I would, I -rebelled not a little. Robert Lovell came into my room, and seeing -my sorrowful face, asked the cause. I told him of my little sister, -my mother’s charge concerning her, and that I could not be happy if -obliged to remain from her over the Sabbath. - -“It is a great self-denial, I can see; but if you have the right -spirit, you do not need to go to Claverton to spend Sunday properly. -God looks at the heart; he sees all your love and devotion, and he -is not one to forget. You want an education; through the kindness of -friends, you are put in a position to help yourself. This involves -your being here at your post all the time, and Saturday is of course -your busiest day.” - -“I know it, and I feel quite ashamed of being so gloomy about it; but -Jennie will miss me at Sabbath-school.” - -“That is just what I came in for. I want you to spend the Sabbath with -me. Mr. Farnham has given me a class of boys about your age, and I -should like to have you with us. We study together. I do not know so -much more than they do, but I am willing to do what I can, and we shall -improve in proportion as we become interested in that blessed book.” - -“So am I willing to do any thing,” I answered. “I am sorry I have been -so fretful this morning. As you say, if I have the right spirit, I can -spend the Sabbath here as well as in Claverton. I can think of Jennie -as she sits in her little room; and when we do meet, we can compare our -lessons and note our advancement just as we do in our other studies.” - -“Certainly; and remember that God knows us, and approves not so much -what we have accomplished, as the effort that we make. It is not what -we give that makes our offering acceptable, but the spirit in which it -is given; not what we do, but the spirit in which it is done.” - -“I wish it was not such an effort to be good. I do try.” - -“It is so to every one, Marston; you are no exception. The more you -read and study the Bible, the more you will learn that life is a -continued warfare. Good and great as St. Paul was, he felt this more -keenly than you do. The natural heart is deceitful, depraved, and -desperately wicked; and even when renewed by divine grace, still -constant watch and care are needed lest we fall into temptation.” - -“Who then can be good?” I asked. - -“All those who lean upon the Saviour. But so soon as we aim to walk by -ourselves, we are lost. You must do this, Marston;” and Robert Lovell -slid his arm around me, and in the silence of my own room, prayed with -me as Mr. Kirby had done, that I might become an earnest follower of -Christ; that I might be willing to be taught of him; and that now, -in the morning of life, I might dedicate both heart and life to his -service. - -“This is what I want to do,” I said as we rose from our knees; “but -when I try hardest, my thoughts will fly off to something else, or -hasty, impetuous feelings will rush over me, and make me feel there is -no use in trying. Oh Robert, you don’t know what a wicked boy I am.” - -“There is no good in ourselves, Marston. It is all of His mercy. Go -to the Saviour just as you are, and ask his assistance, his Spirit. -He knows all your temptations, all your weaknesses, and he also knows -all your efforts. Love and trust him, and his Spirit will help you to -overcome. You will try to do this? say that you will;” and he held me -firmly by the hand. - -“I will, Robert; I will.” - -Rockdale was less than half a mile from Terryville. It had been Mr. -Harlan’s custom to have his pupils go to Mr. Farnham’s church, leaving -him free to preach in the neighborhood adjacent. In this way many were -favored with the preached word that would otherwise have been deprived -of it; and it is to be hoped much good was done by thus scattering the -seed in out-of-the-way places. - -But while Mr. Harlan was doing all the good he could, and Robert -Lovell was not unmindful of the work before him, active in the double -position of both teacher and pupil, there were at Rockdale other -spirits quite as energetic in another direction--boys that seemed to -have no idea of any thing beyond physical enjoyment, to elude the -teachers, escape study, and “have a good time.” This was the great end -and aim of their school life. - -As Robert Lovell’s home was at the extreme part of the village, I -did not see as much of him as of some of the others; and no doubt he -thought me weak and vacillating, contrasting as I sometimes did the -industrious, painstaking pupil with the selfish, ease-loving one, who -seemed to get along just as well. Happy, cheerful, fun-loving spirits, -with plenty of money to spend, and always ready for a forage on -watermelons or into the cakes and pies in Mrs. Harlan’s pantry. Their -only concern was, not to be discovered. Like the Spartan, they held it -was no harm to steal; the only disgrace was in being discovered; every -other consideration was too trivial for a moment’s notice. - -“Such boys will not make men,” said Robert Lovell. “Look in your ‘Self -Helps’--you will find no such examples.” - -After a while I had an opportunity to go home, as I continued to call -Miss Grimshaw’s, more perhaps because Jennie lived there than any -thing else. All the weeks that I had been at school, Jennie had been -studying; and that evening she had much to tell me of her lessons, -many questions to ask, and explanations to go over. She had taken up -philosophy and natural science; and her quick understanding seemed to -grasp easily what it had taken me a long time to learn. - -“There is one exercise that you have,” she said at tea, “that I should -like very much, and that is composition.” - -“Composition!” and I laughed heartily; for the week before I had -listened to a knot of girls as they spoke particularly of their dislike -of this exercise above all others. - -“If you desire to write compositions,” I replied, trying to look grave, -“I do not see why you may not write them here. I have to write them, -and I try to do my best. I can’t say how little I might do if I was not -obliged to do it.” - -“Yes, but how am I to know if they are correctly written?” - -“You can see that they are spelled rightly, written and folded neatly. -Put your thought into the very best language you have. The second time -it will be easier than the first, and so on. Write just as you would -talk, easy, naturally, and without effort. These are the rules Mr. -Harlan gave me. I will find some one to correct them for you.” - -Besides composition, Jennie had to tell me about her pupil, for young -as she was she had turned teacher. - -“He is a big boy, nearly as large as you are, Marston; but I felt so -sorry for him. He said his father and mother were both dead, and he -had no one to care for him, no one to mind whether he was bad or good; -that he did try to work, and Mr. Wyman turned him away: he forgot one -night to put up the bars, and the cows got into the corn. He was sorry, -and would not have neglected it again; yet Mr. Wyman would not believe -him, but told him he had nothing more for him to do. I couldn’t help -telling him that if he would come in every evening I would teach him -arithmetic; and sure enough, he has been in regularly, and is studying -in good earnest.” - -“Pray what is your pupil’s name?” - -“Ezra Metcalf. Oh, brother, you know he is a big boy; but he has never -had anybody to tell him how to be good. He goes to Sabbath-school too;” -and she looked eagerly for my approval. - -“He has improved a great deal,” said grandma; “he hardly looks like the -same boy; as trim and neat as anybody now: he has found a place to live -and work, and goes to church regularly. I never saw such a change in -any one. I shouldn’t wonder if he made somebody right smart yet; if he -does, you’ll have the credit of it, child.” - -“I do not think there is any credit in it, grandma. What should I have -known, had there been no one to tell me? Marston and I have much to be -thankful for. I often think of Mr. Kirby, and how much he told me. -Ezra Metcalf never had a friend like that.” - -“You are right, Jennie,” said grandma with a little pat of her hand; “I -am glad to see that you are willing to share with others the good that -you have yourself received. This is as it should be.” - -Thus Jennie was finding her work, and I was stimulated anew as we -talked over all that Mr. Kirby had taught us. - -“If we could only have such a person with us all the time,” said -Jennie. “And still my Sabbath-school teacher says that we can all have -a Friend better and wiser than any earthly friend can be. All that is -necessary is to ask him; the precious Saviour is always ready to be a -friend to any who heartily desire him. You do, don’t you, Marston?” and -she laid her little head on my shoulder; “and I do. Mr. Kirby could not -stay with us, neither can we be together; we both want just such a -Friend;” and the blue eyes looked up to mine pleadingly. - -“Yes, Jennie, I mean to ask Him.” - -“We will both ask Him. Miss Ackers says he never turns any away, -especially if they are poor. I told Ezra Metcalf of this, and he -promised to seek the Saviour.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -IX. - - -The gorgeous autumn days had gone, and the snow was beginning to -whiten the mountains, when Robert Lovell left Rockdale to teach in a -neighboring district during the winter months. Very lonely it seemed -without him; for with the exception of Mr. and Mrs. Harlan, there -was no one else that felt half the interest in me, and as a natural -consequence, of whom I thought half as much. I should miss him, but -then my duties would not allow of many regretful moments. Snow, ice, -and cold weather would only add to my work; and I tried hard to look it -in the face, and to be cheerful and happy. - -“Homesick without Lovell!” said my room-mate, one of the best-natured, -most amiable, and still most indolent scholars in school. “Such an -old sanctimonious thing; he never entered into any of our fun, neither -would he let you. I tell you what, Marston, you’ve been shut up long -enough. We have some capital times that the old folks know nothing -about.” - -“Is that right, Farden?” I asked. - -“‘Right!’ that’s Lovell all over,” and he laughed till the room -fairly echoed. “‘Right’ who ever heard such a question but from some -white-livered thing like Lovell?” - -“Farden, you shall not speak of Lovell in that manner. Cowardice has no -part in his character; you know as well as I do there is not a braver -scholar in the school;” and I bounded across the room, startled out of -my usual quiet by the unjust accusation. - -“Really, Howe, you show anger just as soon as any of us, in spite of -all your goodness. A thousand pities Lovell is not here to see you in -such a towering passion. That’s just what I like, though. I only said -it to see if you could be worked up.” - -“You knew it was untrue, and yet said it to stir me up. Richard Farden, -I had not thought you could do any thing so base as that; for the -future I shall understand you better;” and I turned on my heel and went -back to my book. - -“I know he’s as brave as a lion. Come, Howe, it was foolish; I did not -mean to anger you; I am sorry. Come, make up with me. I see Lovell has -not spoiled you; only say that you will be one with us.” - -“I will not be one with you,” and I opened my Virgil. - -“What’s the use of studying your eyes out, Howe? it will do you no -good.” - -“Good or not, I shall study,” I answered, vexed at myself for being -so hasty; “I came here to study.” I thought of Jennie’s pale face, and -earnest eyes; she was now studying, and I could not but acknowledge to -myself that she would feel sorry did she know how easily I had been -disturbed. How was it that my good resolves were so easily shaken? -Why was I so moved by the word and look of another? Could I only have -looked with an unwavering trust to Him who was both able and willing to -be to me the friend I so much needed. - -And still I thought I loved and trusted him. But Oh, it was only a half -trust. I did not lean implicitly on him; I still felt that I could do -something to merit his favor; that something was expected and required -of me, and I must do it. - -[Illustration] - -And here let me urge all in the long list of climbers, to examine well -and see if self does not intrude: if they are in truth willing to -be guided and led by Christ; willing to walk in the path appointed, -not idly, not passively, not sleepily, but with energy, doing all that -can be done, always doing their best. Never giving way, going back, -desponding, or denying Christ. Or, if they have denied him, like Peter -repenting bitterly, and resolving as he did to be more energetic, more -fearless, more faithful in the future. - -The room was so still I thought Farden had gone out; but soon there -was a blue line of smoke curling and twisting upward, and the subtle -perfume of the “fragrant weed” was plainly perceptible. A little sigh, -and Farden poised his cigar in true professional style, tipped back his -chair, planted both feet on the mantel, and spoke again. - -“I came here to study. There was no end to the plans I laid. I was -to study every day and every night, and in a short time I expected to -learn all that was to be taught here; then to college, and had little -doubt but I should speedily distance the professors, and perhaps rival -Humboldt himself. Instead of that I don’t look into a book once a week, -except when I recite; and I don’t see but I get along just as well. If -I don’t know it, I only have to pick out a difficult word or phrase, -and say that it is not clear to me, that I do not quite understand it; -and usually it takes so long to explain it that the time is up. We boys -take turns in this game.” - -“And you own to such meanness,” I said, as much excited as at first. - -“They’ve no business to allow themselves to be deceived.” - -“You neither deceive yourself, nor any one else. Your tutor -understands it, and so does Mr. Harlan; and you know it is not right.” - -“‘Right,’ again; of course I do. But I do not see the use. I shall -never talk in Latin, Greek, or Hebrew; then why delve so many years -over them?” - -“Mr. Farnham said it was to make us think.” - -“Very little good comes of it that I can see,” said Farden putting his -cigar to his mouth; “that problem in equations that you worked on so -long, a precious little good it will do you.” - -“Mr. Harlan told us the other day that every obstacle overcome gives us -just so much additional strength; that it is by these stepping-stones -that we attain the desired result.” - -“Stepping-stones of obstacles! that is well enough for Mr. Harlan; but -I’ll tell you what, Howe, money is the stepping-stone in this country. -Give me that, and I don’t care a picayune for any thing else.” - -“The one that knows most usually succeeds best; knowledge wins money.” - -“Pshaw! nonsense! that’s not so. Why, the richest man in this county -can hardly write his name.” - -“That may be; he may prove an exception; but that in no wise does away -with the rule.” - -“Well, my cigar is out. All I can say is, that we are going to have a -capital time to-night; you had better come along. You wont tell, any -way; Lovell never did: we could always trust him;” and the door closed. - -Why was it that I could not study? Why was it that I should strive and -struggle between my inclination to live easily, as Farden did, and my -desire to do right? “No right effort is ever lost,” sounded out strong, -clear, distinct, almost as though some one spoke it aloud; and so -forcibly did it take possession of me, and so much strength sprung up -out of each little word, there was no more murmuring, and my morning’s -lesson did not suffer from the ungovernable feeling of the evening -previous. - -A few days after the above conversation Farden came in after his -skates, and Harry Gilmore with him. Tapping me on the shoulder, Harry -said, “Put up that book; you are looking like a scarecrow. Come.” - -“Where?” I asked. - -“First to the ice, and then,” looking up archly, “where we have no -stupid books, but plenty of fun and frolic. Why not go? What if you do -fail in the next lesson? Some of the boys fail every day.” - -“You will never be thought less of,” said Richard Farden. “I do not -look at my translation till I go in to recite. It comes to me just as -I want to say it.” - -“It does not come to me without study,” I answered. - -“That is because your brains are so knotted up poring over it all the -while,” persisted Harry. “Clear them out occasionally with a good jolly -spree, and you’ll be all right. Come along.” - -“What will Mr. Harlan say?” - -“Mr. Harlan will never know. He thinks we are all in bed by ten -o’clock.” - -“And so we are,” said Richard; “they don’t seem to think we can get up -again.” - -“Do what you do well”--I seemed to hear Mr. Kirby’s voice urging me to -do right, while Jennie’s sweetly pleading eyes looked reproachingly. - -“No, I will not go,” I said determinedly. “I came here to study, and I -will do it. You know your parents could not approve of your course; -you know Mr. Harlan would not; you know your own conscience does not. I -will not go with you, and I advise you to stay at home yourself.” - -“Lovell all over; isn’t it, Harry?” and my room-mate examined his -skates carefully. - -“I do wish you would come, Howe;” and he spoke half reproachfully. - -“I came here for a purpose, and I shall follow it.” - -The door closed with a slam. I crossed the room and leaned my head on -the mantel; school life was so different from what I had expected. -I had supposed that everybody appreciated study, that everybody -longed for an education, and that only opportunity was wanted to make -good scholars. I had learned differently. Nominal students were not -actual learners; neither were those who applied themselves the most -diligently, in all cases the most appreciated. Then I remembered again -Mr. Kirby’s words: “Doing right is the only safe course, and although -slow and wearisome at first, is sure to succeed. Other paths may look -as if they would lead into shaded nooks and flowery dells; but ruin -lurks in secret, and despair has a lodge there. The only safety is -in keeping clear of them, having nothing to do with them; while the -onward road, narrow and rough though it be, will in the end lead to the -desired result.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -X. - - -In so large a school as that in Rockdale, of course there were various -cliques, and each clique with its leader. Frank Clavers was at the head -of the Senior class, and round him gathered good scholars and studious -boys; while Richard Farden and Harry Gilmore, by virtue of wealth, good -looks, and an easy, good-natured manner, took the lead in all sports -and amusements; and Robert Lovell was looked up to and followed by all -who had a thought of the future. Few enough there were of these; and to -this clique I had attached myself. Hence the goodness that my room-mate -was constantly reproaching me with, when I refused to join in their -stolen revels. - -“I am sure I should be on the ice half the time, if I could skate as -you do,” said Harry Gilmore once as I joined the skaters during recess. - -“So should I perhaps, had I nothing else to do,” I answered, skimming -over the smooth surface with all the freedom of a bird on the wing. -“It is a good deal of self-denial for me to stay at home, Harry. I own -there are times when an hour on the ice would please me much better -than sawing wood or making paths through the snow.” - -“Why don’t you do it then? we have to beg you ever so long. I had no -idea you could skate so beautifully.” - -“I cannot afford the time,” I answered frankly. “I came here to study; -and you know I nearly pay my board with what I can do during the hours -that you have for recreation.” - -“And your father don’t give you a cent?” - -“My father and mother are both dead, Harry. I have the dearest little -sister in the world; but as for money, I earn all I have with my own -hands.” - -“This is why you work and study then,” said he, linking his arm in mine -and flashing across the pond. “It makes me ashamed of myself every time -I hear you refuse to go with Richard; but I didn’t know that--” - -“That I was so poor?” - -“That your parents were dead, and you trying to educate yourself.” - -“How is this?” shouted Richard Farden as soon as he turned the bend and -came to shore--“how is it that you have got Howe on his skates? What -arguments have you used, what inducements held out?” - -“Golden ones, I’ll be bound,” shouted Charles Eaton, while the boys -laughed uproariously. - -“I have no influence over Marston Howe,” said Harry, calling me by my -first name. “He has an influence over me, however, and I am resolved -each day more and more to follow it.” - -“How now? what’s the matter?” cried several voices as we unstrapped our -skates. - -I saw by the look of the sun that my time was up, and without another -word I hurried up the hill and across the field to the academy. - -Before the study bell rang, Harry Gilmore came to my room. “Have you a -moment to spare, Marston?” - -“Yes, a moment for you,” I answered. - -“And you will not call it so much lost time?” drawing his chair to the -table, and placing his feet on the fender. “To tell the truth, I am -ashamed of the life I am leading this winter; the deception we practise -is outrageous.” - -“You do not deceive any one, Harry. Mr. Harlan may not know all of your -nightly wanderings; but he knows who studies and who does not, and so -do all the teachers.” - -“Then why don’t they scold us as we deserve, send us home, or expel us?” - -“Perhaps you would not do any better at home. They do all they can, -both by precept and example; and they hope that time and your own good -sense will at length compel you to do better.” - -“And I am determined that I will. I have been led by Richard long -enough. I am resolved to study for the rest of the term; and if I do, -will you be my friend?” and he looked at me earnestly. - -“You forget how poor I am. I pay my board by waiting on the household.” - -“So much the more honor for you. My father was once a poor man. He’s -rich now; worth half a million, I suppose. But that only makes me -think meaner of myself. Only think of the money I spend every week, -flinging it away, and you have none. You say you have a sister; so -have I; and such good letters she writes me, telling me to use my time -profitably, and not to be led away by ease-loving, indolent companions. -I am going to try now, and you must help me.” - -His look and tone touched me, and my words leaped out, “As far as I can -I will help you to do right, Harry.” - -“I shall be a better boy if you will let me come here sometimes and see -you study. Say that you will, Marston. There goes the bell. Say that I -may come.” - -“As often as you like.” - -“If my lessons are good to-morrow, you may take the credit of it;” and -the door closed. - -Presently Richard came in, flung down his cap and gloves, and hastily -tore the envelope from a letter. - -“I declare it’s too bad; not a cent of money. Father has no idea of the -little things that draw upon the purse.” - -“It cannot be that you have used the last he sent,” I exclaimed, seeing -his look of distress. - -“Yes, but I have though, and had to borrow besides. You see every thing -is so high; our suppers have cost enormously; and now the lectures are -coming on, and I have not a dime.” - -“I have several tickets; that need not trouble you.” - -“The lectures would be dull enough if it was not for something -afterwards: and the sleigh-rides; I’ve promised ever so many I’d treat -them to a ride. It’s just the time now; and the old fellow don’t seem -to appreciate it at all.” - -“He appreciates study more, perhaps.” - -“I know it, Howe, as well as you do. I don’t study. I feel ashamed of -it, and still I cannot do better. I mean to in the spring. I’ll turn -over a new leaf, as Gilmore says.” - -“Why not begin now?” I ventured to ask. - -“Because I can’t; I’ve got out of the way of study, and to go back -is not so readily done. I would not have father know how I spend -my time; and my sister is always writing me to make good use of my -opportunities. Poor mother, I am all the boy she has got, and I know -how anxious she is about me. I don’t mean to be wild, but I’m afraid -that I am.” - -The last words, mournfully spoken, touched my heart. Besides, the idea -of his trifling with a mother’s love moved me to speak. - -“Why not try now to do what you feel to be right? You might easily be -the first in your class.” - -“I meant to be when I came here; but when I saw how some of the others -managed, by degrees I fell into the same ways.” - -“It is not too late to commence. Mr. Harlan told us that when we become -conscious of an error, we should turn from it immediately. It is easy -for us to do wrong; and to turn as soon as we become conscious of it, -is the only true wisdom.” - -“I don’t believe I can here; the boys all know me, and they will expect -me to do just as I have done.” - -A little tap at the door. Charles Eaton entered, and conversation took -a more general tone. - -A few evenings after this, in passing out of the supper-room, Mrs. -Harlan handed me several papers, magazines, etc. Looking them over, -I found a notice of the death of Charles Brisbane, my first teacher. -My eyes grew dim as I gazed upon the record, which spoke of early -promise, rare graces of mind, and the deep religious element underlying -a character devoted to the elevation of the human race. I cannot -describe the effect produced by the perusal of that short obituary. -Mr. Brisbane’s words had roused me to action, and taught me my duty -to myself and to my Maker; but his death gave to his well-remembered -utterances all the force and power of a voice from heaven. Thenceforth -I cherished his image still more, as one of my choicest treasures; -and the desire of my heart was deepened to acquire knowledge and -discipline, and to be, like him, a good and useful man. - -And still, with all my resolves, I was conscious I failed in the most -important, point. Did I love the Saviour as he did? Did I as closely -follow Him? - -Winter passed, and spring blossomed into beauty. Robert Lovell was -again with us. There was more study; examination was coming, and all -were anxious to make a good appearance. My room-mate was more studious, -and Harry Gilmore was trying to redeem time. Out of school my time -was taken up with gardening; and much pleasanter it was than making -paths in the ice and snow. True, I had never done any thing of this -before; but although a little awkward at first, it soon came easy. -Besides, it brought me in continual contact with Mr. and Mrs. Harlan; -and their remarks were not only pleasant, but profitable. In the room -of feeling despondent, as I had now and then done during the winter, I -was cheerful and happy; and without enjoying my books the less, I did -enjoy my labors more. - -“It is strange how quickly the weeds grow,” I said to Mrs. Harlan as I -was thinning out the early vegetables. - -“I never look at the weeds without thinking of my own heart,” she -answered. “Goodness, patience, humility, and faith are here to be -cultivated with constant care; while selfishness and passion spring up -almost imperceptibly, and their seeds are, like the thistle-down, borne -on the lightest breeze.” - -“There is one comfort with the weeds,” I answered; “we can cut them -up by the roots; but the evil in our hearts, the foolish and wicked -desires that so often strive for the mastery, are not so easily -managed.” - -“Not by ourselves, Marston; but there is One that can help us in this. -Like the careful gardener, that lops off and prunes the vine till it -seems, as it did to you the other day, that it would die cut down so -closely, so God deals with us according to the condition in which we -are placed, lopping off a branch here and there, taking away a support, -replanting according to our needs and necessities, and all to improve -the growth and life, that the fruit may be more abundant. You remember -in January, when the shade-trees were trimmed, you thought they were -ruined, and exclaimed against it.” - -“Yes, I thought they were cut too closely, the last year’s growth -almost entirely cut away, leaving little but the bare trunk.” - -“And you see now how they are putting forth new and vigorous branches. -They had branches and leaves last year, but no beauty; and there was -too much top for the roots; hence the necessity of cutting them -closely: watch them, and you will see how much more beautiful and -fruitful they will be for such severe pruning.” - -“If we could always keep this in mind,” I answered; “but it is so easy -to grow despondent when we cannot understand the why and wherefore of -our trials.” - -“The plants do not ask why and wherefore, but put forth all their -energy in the direction to which they are guided,” was the reply. - -“It is their nature; but with us it is not so easy and natural,” I said. - -“How so? it is our privilege to be guided and supported. The Saviour is -often represented under the figure of a gardener, his garden the world, -and the plants in it the human beings for whom he died. If we are his -servants, the afflictions and privations we are called upon to endure -are only prunings from his hand. Neither should we ask why; but turning -our gaze in the direction specified, seek to fulfil his purpose.” - -“And if we try, does he see and notice our effort?” - -“Yes, Marston, the fall of a sparrow is noted by him; and there is -nothing connected with our well-being but interests him. He is moved -with a feeling of compassion when he looks upon our suffering; and so -great is his love, that if he could spare us the least pang he would do -so.” - -By this time I had finished the asparagus-bed, while the rows of -lettuce stood neatly defined, and the delicate tendrils of the -pea-vines began twisting themselves about for the support I had placed -within their reach. Mr. Harlan suggested that one walk needed to be -widened, and another to be gravelled. It was Saturday, and I took the -wheelbarrow and crossed the pasture to the brook. - -While shovelling gravel, with my coat off and sleeves rolled up, -I heard shouts and voices. A light wagon, drawn by two spirited -horses, and filled by half a dozen boys, was coming down the road -from Terryville. Richard Farden was driving, and when opposite me, he -stopped. - -“We are going down to see Frank Clavers, and then on a fishing -excursion up the river. There is room enough for one more; put down -your sleeves and jump in; we’ve plenty of hooks and lines.” - -“A grand treat it will be,” cried several from the back seat; “you had -better come.” - -“We shall have a splendid supper,” added Richard, “and then home by -moonlight. Such a chance you don’t get every day. Come on.” - -I longed to avail myself of the privilege. I had not had a ride, save -on horseback, for a long time. And then it was to see Frank; and -perhaps I could stop for a moment at Miss Grimshaw’s, and see Jennie. -Still I had no time. Mrs. Harlan was expecting me back, and there stood -the wheelbarrow half-full of gravel. “No,” I answered, “I cannot go. I -have not the time; drive on;” and I took my shovel, not daring to look -up till the handsome turnout was out of sight. - -The next half hour was one of mingled feelings. Why was my lot so hard, -and that of others so easy? “He deals with us according to our needs,” -Mrs. Harlan had said; and I tried hard to work cheerfully, though -saying to myself now and then, “It is Saturday, and no more than fair -had I gone home. How much good it would have done me;” and plunging my -shovel into the yielding bank, I started my wheelbarrow. - -“Do not work so hard, Marston; you look heated;” and Mrs. Harlan looked -up approvingly. - -“What a difference it makes,” said she as I scattered the gravel in -heaps, and then spread it evenly. - -“It will require two or three loads more,” I answered; and on I went, -feeling that any thing was better than to stand still. - -Again had I reached the gravelled shore, and was shovelling away -smartly, when Harry Gilmore leaped down the bank with his merry laugh -and cheerful voice. - -“If I was to envy anybody at Rockdale, it would be you,” he said, after -a few words about the fishing party. - -“Me!” and I pointed to my bare arms and my face dripping with -perspiration. - -“Yes, I believe you have more real comfort than any one of us who have -rich fathers. You prize every hour in school, because it costs you -self-denial; while we have never learned to value privileges that cost -us nothing. Now let me help you,” he said, taking off his coat, “for I -am to have a drive in the evening, and I want you should get through in -time to join me.” - -“A drive! where?” - -“Anywhere you please; to Claverton, if you will.” - -“Oh, that will be so good. Are you really to go?” - -“Certainly I am to go, and you are to go with me. Now give me that -shovel.” - -“There’s nothing more to do with it just now.” - -“What a pity there are not two wheelbarrows. I will go back with you -and get another.” - -“You forget your clothes,” I said, looking at his neat suit of -broadcloth. - -“Gravel is clean; it will all brush off;” and we started, each grasping -a handle of the wheelbarrow and keeping step over the green sward. - -With an amused look, Mrs. Harlan eyed us as we came up. - -“Two boys work faster than one,” she said, as Harry scattered the -gravel and I smoothed it. - -“Two more loads will be enough, wont they, Mrs. Harlan?” asked Harry; -and being answered in the affirmative, away he went to the wood-shed, -and returned with a heavier wheelbarrow for himself. - -“Not that, Harry; you are not accustomed to it. If you insist on -going, you must take this.” With a few playful words we exchanged -wheelbarrows, while Mrs. Harlan looked after us as we trundled down the -path at a brisk pace. - -“How stupid. I forgot that we had but one shovel,” said Harry with a -light laugh. - -“I will fill both,” I answered. - -“No, I came to help you. I will sit still while you fill yours; then -you shall rest till mine is ready, and we can start even.” - -There seemed to be no other way, and I assented. - -“There, old fellow,” said he as the gravel lay piled in my barrow, “now -it’s my turn.” - -“Oh, Harry, it will tire you out; let me,” I persisted. - -“My back is no better than yours; go and sit down.” - -Overcome by his kindness, I went and sat on the bank, hardly conscious -of my own identity. I had felt so bitterly in the morning, thinking -my lot so hard; and now to find that Harry had stayed at home to take -me out for the evening, and then, fearing I should not finish in time, -helping me himself--the boy that never had waited on himself doing this -heavy work, and all for me. - -“There, I am done,” leaving the shovel standing upright in the middle -of his load. - -“You will find it heavy; you had better tip out some,” I suggested. - -“My arms are strong; have no fear,” he answered, and struck into the -path ahead of me. - -“Pretty warm,” said Harry, after a few moments. “I reckon I’ll tip off -my vest instead of the gravel;” and I saw that his collar was limp and -the linen on his shoulders wet through and through. - -“This will be sufficient,” said Mrs. Harlan as we finished smoothing -the walk. “You have worked so well, Marston, the rest of the day may -be your own.” - -“Mrs. Harlan,” and Harry stood with his cap in his hand, “I am to go to -Claverton this evening, for the ride merely, and I would like to take -Marston with me, if you have no objection.” - -“To Claverton this evening! You will see Miss Grimshaw and Jennie,” -turning to me. - -“If I go, I shall hope to see them.” - -“I will see;” and she crossed the veranda into her husband’s study. - -“Yes, Mr. Harlan is willing you should go,” she said. “I hope the ride -will be pleasant. Let me see you before you go, Marston.” - -“All ready,” shouted Harry as he drove up in a pretty open buggy drawn -by a high-spirited black horse, that pawed the ground just a little, to -show his impatience. - -“In a minute, Harry.” I had not yet seen Mrs. Harlan, and I flew down -stairs and across the hall to the parlor. - -“Not there, Marston,” and Mrs. Harlan called me to her own room. “Here -are a few things that I intended for you before examination. It will be -a good time to wear them this evening, however, and you may try them on -at once; I am impatient to see if they fit.” - -My hand trembled as I took them, and my voice still more. - -“Do not be afraid to wear them, you have fairly earned them. Mr. Harlan -told me that he owed them to you.” - -They were a nice spring suit of light grey cloth. I could not stop to -half thank her, but hastened into my own room, and slipping into them, -gave one look into the little mirror, and then down stairs, under Mrs. -Harlan’s kindly review, and then out to Harry. - -“Why, Marston, what’s the matter? You are actually crying.” - -“It was all so unexpected,” I murmured, dropping into my seat. - -“They are not a bit too good for you; I was with her when she ordered -them. The tailor measured me instead of you; that’s the reason they -fit so nicely. I told Mrs. Harlan you could wear my clothes. But come, -cheer up; don’t let a nice suit of clothes spoil your eyes. We shall -have lots to see.” - -Impatient as I was to see Jennie, the ride seemed short; and when we -drove up to Miss Grimshaw’s little white gate, I thought I had never -seen a picture half so beautiful. It was a soft spring day, the parlor -windows open, and the white muslin curtains fluttering in the breeze. -The breath of the lilacs perfumed the air, and the tulips were budding -into beauty. Miss Grimshaw had moved her shop to a larger building, -and we walked up the yard and were looking through the half-open door, -when grandma spied us, and came forward, leaning on her staff. - -“Why, Marston, is that you? I am so glad to see you. How you have -grown, child.” - -“And this is Harry Gilmore,” I answered, till then forgetting to -introduce my companion. - -“Sit down; Jennie will be in presently.” - -“Where is she, grandma?” - -“In the strawberry bed at the back of the house. I will call her.” - -“No, grandma, let us go for her: and may we pick some strawberries?” - -“As many as you wish.” - -By this time Jennie had seen the buggy, and surmising who had come, -started to meet us. One glad cry of surprise, and her arms were round -my neck. - -“Oh, brother, I am so glad to see you. I began to fear you would never -come again;” then turning to Harry, as I named him, she held out her -little dimpled hand. “I am glad you came to-day, the strawberries are -so fine. This is the first day we have had them in abundance. Will you -take some of mine?” holding up a bowl she had picked quite full, the -red stain still on her fingers. - -“Grandma said we might help ourselves.” - -An hour passed deliciously, and then Jennie ran in, smoothed out her -sunny curls, and put on a fresh pretty gingham, looking handsomer than -I had ever seen her before. Miss Grimshaw came in for tea, and the -nice white rolls were enjoyed by us with a peculiar zest, while the -strawberries and cream were, as Harry said, beyond all praise. After -tea we strolled out to the river, gathered violets, and talked of our -studies. - -“It looks natural, and still every thing wears a brighter hue,” I said -to Jennie as we stood on the door-step. “I have never seen the spring -half so beautiful.” - -“Perhaps it is in ourselves,” Jennie said. “You have not forgotten what -Mr. Kirby said: ‘If we think good and happy thoughts, we shall look -through such a medium that every thing about us will wear the same -hue.’” - -“I like to hear you repeat what Mr. Kirby said,” I continued. -“Sometimes I am afraid that I am forgetting him.” - -“We both owe Mr. Kirby more than anybody else in the world. We must -never forget him.” - -[Illustration] - -Harry had been walking round the flower beds with grandma. They stopped -near us, and she said, “You have grown tall, Marston, and I hear -people say that you are getting to be a fine scholar. I do not know -much of books, but I have picked up a verse that I want you to think -of: ‘The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.’” - -“And you too,” she continued, addressing Harry. “You will both make -better men for heeding it.” - -“So my mother says,” was Harry’s reply. - -We did not see Frank Clavers, neither hear any thing of the -excursionists. At parting Jennie gave us a basket of strawberries for -Mrs. Harlan, and stood with cheeks flushed and eyes misty with tears, -the gold brown curls waving over her white shoulders. - -“The prettiest picture that I have ever seen,” said Harry as we drove -away. “You may well be proud of your sister, Marston.” - -“And so I am,” I replied. “The best of all, she is as good as she is -beautiful.” - -For some reason we talked quite soberly during our ride back to -Rockdale, going over the incidents of the past, and the changes that -our short lives had witnessed. Then we talked of the future, which we -robed in bright hues like the blossoms of that lovely spring time. -True, Harry was the principal talker. My heart was full. Still I knew -that I must scale steep heights, tread rugged paths, press on when -footsore and weary, perchance to meet little earthly success. Ah, how -mysterious a thing human life would be, could we not discern in it the -threshold of a higher, purer existence. - - - - -XI. - - -By rigid economy, by laboring in vacation, and performing various -little offices in term time, I managed to continue at Rockdale two -years. Latin was no longer a trouble to me, and Greek was becoming -easy; but my purse was nearly empty. I was in need of several new -books. And I began to turn in my mind what I could do towards defraying -new expenses. - -At this juncture the president of the board of trustees visited the -school, where he remained the entire day, examining the classes, and -inspecting the monthly reports. I had no suspicion of his purpose, -and consequently gave my whole attention to my recitations. Although -not as quick as many, I had been thorough, understood the principles -of almost every thing that I had been over, and thus obtained correct -answers. Greek and Latin were read easily, and the president was -evidently satisfied with our progress. - -That evening Mr. Harlan sent for me to his study. The time and the -occasion were new to me, and I went with some trepidation. Mr. Harlan -was not there, but in his place the visitor, Mr. Stovill. - -“Mr. Harlan tells me that you intend to go through college, if your -hands and your brains can take you there,” was his somewhat abrupt -greeting. - -“I am hoping to go. Others have done the same without more means.” - -“What will you do to obtain the money? it will require a good deal for -that.” - -“I shall work for it.” - -“Would you haul wood, build a stone Wall, or break stones on the -street?” - -“Any thing, sir, that offered me an equivalent.” - -“Then you do not think that work will degrade you?” - -“On the contrary, I think that labor will ennoble me. But as I wish to -study, I should like to do that which would bring me the most for the -least number of hours.” - -He was silent, while I sat in suspense as to his purpose. What did he -mean by all these questions? - -“I believe you will do,” he said at length. “Young men are apt to think -that work will degrade them. They forget that oaks spring from acorns, -and little efforts lead to great results. The boy that will work to -improve himself, will pretty surely merge into the man that will work -for the good of others.” - -In a few words he made known his plan. Robert Lovell was going to -college; some one else must supply his place as under-tutor. - -Mr. Harlan had suggested the names of two, Silas June and myself. Silas -was very quick, and priding himself on this, he did not study. To be -brilliant was his desire, and yet he might have been a thorough scholar -had he studied. His quickness ruined him. - -This situation, in consideration of my standing in class, was offered -me, with sufficient remuneration to defray all my expenses. - -I could hardly keep back the tears. This ray of light stealing -through the darkness, was a reproof for all my faint-heartedness and -despondency. “No right effort is ever lost.” There was a sun behind the -clouds, though I had doubted it. - -“I might have had that chance,” said June. “It was all my own -foolishness. If I had only known the day Mr. Stovill was coming, I -would have had my lessons; there would have been no trouble. My reports -were against me.” - -I could say nothing to comfort him, and the hour passed without words. - -“If I could only begin again, I would not lean so much on my quickness. -It is the same old story--the hare and the tortoise. You will get there -quicker than I shall.” - -“It is not too late for you,” said I; “try it.” - -“I cannot do three years’ work in one. Besides, it is easier to fall -into bad habits than to get rid of them. After all, I may get along -just as well; but mother expected me to fill Lovell’s place. She wrote -me in her last letter, that if I could not help myself a little, she -should have to take my sister from school; she could not afford the -expense of both. Poor mother.” - -“Poor mother,” I echoed, and thought of what I should do, had I only a -mother to write me letters full of loving words, and a sister that must -be taken from school unless I could help myself in a measure. I was -roused by his voice. - -“We can never be young but once. I want my share of pleasure.” - -“Do you find it?” - -“Not yet; but I am hoping every day for something better.” - -“Which you will never find, I am afraid. Judging from your own words, -you are making your mother unhappy, and yourself miserable.” - -“It is so; but what can I do?” - -“Break off your idle habits; say good-by to your fun-loving companions, -and begin to work right earnestly. This is the way others have done.” - -“I ought to do it; but it is too late.” - -“And you will oblige your mother to take that little sister from -school?” - -“Oh, I hope not; she is not so poor as she thinks. True, I have been -spending a good deal this winter. Gilmore has a rich father, and I -could not bear to be shabby in the suppers.” - -This was my last year at Rockdale; and if the service was pleasanter, -it was not less arduous. I had very little time for myself, a -half hour’s stroll at twilight being my only recreation. Still I -believed that I was improving, both intellectually and morally; -and this sufficed me. Jennie was also climbing the hill of science -rapidly. Frank Clavers’ sister had returned the year previous from -boarding-school; and being pleased with Jennie, and learning that she -could sing, she had offered to give her lessons in music. Seeing -her fondness for books, Miss Clavers soon kindly offered to help her -here also. This called for additional gratitude on my part; I had -felt so troubled about this little sister, whom my mother left in my -charge. Doing for myself, I hardly felt it to be right not to aid her -personally more than my duties would allow. Now she had the benefit of -example, and also the instruction of a young lady who was said to be a -finished scholar. - -Thus easily I slipped into Robert Lovell’s place as tutor, and also -into his class in Sabbath-school. Teaching others is one of the best -means of self-culture; and I was in this way sent to my Bible, if not -more frequently, at least with a more intense desire to understand its -teachings. Thinking, studying, meditating, I drew nearer the cross each -day; each day began to realize more perfectly the beauty of His words -who spake as never man spake, the glory of his countenance beaming -with untold love; the terrible agony he suffered on the cross; his -willingness to forgive sin; and above all, the encouragement in coming -to him freely, as to a friend loved and confided in. Oh, why had I not -seen this before? I had hopes that I did love him--that I did trust -him--that I did follow him; but Oh, it was so far off. Had I been near, -I should never have doubted as I had done; I should never have gone -through all these months with my heart heavy, the waters going over -my soul, striving to do only because I knew it to be right, and only -half trusting the divine promise, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake -thee.” Oh, blind and foolish heart, thus to grope in darkness when He -was waiting with outstretched arms to receive thee. - -How bright and beautiful my pathway now opened before me. Not that -barriers were all removed, obstacles all cleared away; but I no longer -felt troubled with a weak, half trust. I knew His promises were sure; -that he would not leave me; that he would be in reality not a personal -friend merely, but one closer than a brother. A long time had I been -learning the lesson of his love, a long time discovering the depth -of his tenderness; now, satisfied to rest on him, I found it joy -unutterable. - -[Illustration] - - - - -XII. - - -My first vacation after leaving Rockdale was spent with Mr. Wyman. -Four years since I had left him, poor and ignorant. Now, I certainly -was not any richer. Still I had advanced in knowledge of books and in -mental discipline; and although my longing after an education was not -in the least abated, I had learned there is nothing really desirable -in comparison with the fear of God and true holiness. I did not care -now to choose in what part of his vineyard I should work. I only wished -to labor for him; and to do this effectually, I must not falter in my -purpose of an education. - -With this intent I went into the hay-field with as much ardor as before -into the school-room. Money, Mr. Stovill said, was desirable to go -through college with, and I knew the worth of it. - -“I see that you have not forgotten how to work,” said Mr. Wyman, coming -into the meadow one sunny afternoon. - -“Not forgetting, but still more accustomed to it, Mr. Wyman. I have -been hard at it ever since I was here.” - -“There is a difference between head work and hand work,” said the -farmer with a quiet smile. - -“I have been doing both,” I replied; “turning book leaves has not -bleached my hands.” - -“While I have to confess to the doing of only one. The young folks of -this day have much better advantages than were common when I was a boy. -We had no such schools then as Rockdale.” - -“I think you do yourself injustice, Mr. Wyman, when you say that you -have only been working with your hands. Had it not been for you, I -could not have gone to Rockdale when I did, if ever. In word and deed, -your labor has budded, blossomed, and brought forth fruit. We sometimes -study quite as effectually out of books as in them.” - -“True; but if I could live my life over again, I should think more of -a book education. Those that know the most have the means of doing the -most good.” - -“There is one comforting truth,” said I, turning the hay vigorously: -“God directs all our steps. He appoints our place; he gives us our -work. I used to think there was in labor a great choice, and although -I was willing to do any thing because I felt it to be right, still -there was also a consciousness that, could I choose, such would not -be my employment. I remember the morning I came here for the first -time; I rebelled not a little against it. Still it was a means, a -stepping-stone to the desired good.” - -“And is it not the same now?” - -“No; I am willing to be directed. I like to be led by Him, and feel -safe in following. Then I feared continually lest I should make a -mistake, and through weakness or ignorance fail to use the means to the -greatest advantage. Now I try to exercise human wisdom and a prudent -forethought, and still rest contented, whatever the result. The Lord -knows all, and he knows whether this or that shall prosper. To do -right, and to do my best, is all that he requires of me; events are -with him, and success is given wheresoever he pleases.” - -Saturday evening at length came. We had worked hard through the week, -but the hay was not all in. Nine o’clock, and there still remained -several loads. A consultation was called. - -“It looks like rain,” said Mr. Wyman. “But you are all tired, and the -oxen have done enough for one day; perhaps we had better let it rest. -It will not rain to-night; and if it does to-morrow, it wont take long -to put in three loads.” - -“But to-morrow will be Sunday, Mr. Wyman.” - -“I know; but it would not be right to let the hay spoil.” - -“I do not understand that; the command is positive: ‘Six days shalt -thou labor, and do all thy work: but the seventh day is the Sabbath -of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy -son, nor thy daughter, thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant, nor thy -cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates.’ Nothing can be more -explicit.” - -“It is also equally incumbent upon us not to waste our substance,” -said Mr Wyman. “If you read the New Testament rightly, you will find -that it is lawful to do works of mercy and necessity.” - -“True; but would the getting in hay be counted such a work, when God -expressly bids us keep his Sabbath even in harvest time?” - -“Yes, if the hay was to be spoiled by the neglect, it ought to be got -in.” - -There was no more said. It was late, and the men dispersed. I went -directly to my room, not a little disconcerted about what I might be -called upon to do. Mr. Wyman was an old man, and had been very kind to -me; it was not for me to speak to him as an equal. He felt it to be -right; I felt it to be a direct act of disobedience. We must each act -according to our conscience; and with this thought I went to sleep. - -The next morning the sun peeped through a dull, hazy atmosphere, -looked, and was gone, showing occasional glimpses of his face till -nearly church time, when the clouds began to gather and roll themselves -into inky blackness, and rain seemed inevitable. - -“Put the oxen to the cart,” said Mr. Wyman; “that hay will be ruined.” - -“But, pa, it is Sunday,” said Mrs. Wyman. - -“Well, what if it is? You are ready to go to church, and the wagon is -at the door; go on, I shall stop for the hay. It is just as much a -duty to save our property as to do any thing else. We are told to be -diligent in business;” and the farmer exchanged his Sunday coat for his -work-day one, and went out. - -“Marston,” he said as he passed through the back porch, “you load -faster than any of the others. If we hurry, we can get it in and then -go to church.” - -“I cannot do that kind of work on the Sabbath, Mr. Wyman. I regard it -as an open violation of His law.” - -“If you cannot work for me to-day, you certainly cannot to-morrow.” - -I did not stop to question; there was but one course for me. My head -bowed over my hands. To lose Mr. Wyman’s friendship was more than I -could bear. - -“What is that to thee? follow thou me,” floated through my brain and -comforted me. Presently a light hand was on my shoulder, and a kind -voice said, - -“Marston, will you drive us to church? I do not think it will rain at -all.” - -“If you desire it, Mrs. Wyman.” - -We started, Mrs. Wyman with Emma and Alice. As we passed the meadow, -Mr. Wyman was busily pitching on the hay, Anderson and Gregory each -having a cart. The oxen stood with their great patient eyes rolling -about, as if not quite sure of the right of breaking in upon their day -of rest. Nothing was said, however. - -We reached the church door just in time to escape a few quiet drops; -but these were soon gone; the clouds unrolled and dispersed their dark -folds, and before noon all was bright again. - -“Oh, father, you should have heard the sermon this morning,” said Alice -Wyman, a sweet, blooming girl, tripping into the parlor as though -nothing had happened. The farmer sat in his straight-backed chair, the -hay was all in, and he was reading the Bible. - -“What was the text, child?” he at length said. - -“‘Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, -and verily thou shalt be fed.’ Mr. Gordon spoke so beautifully of the -implicit trust we are privileged to have, it seemed to me I never felt -so forcibly before how far short we come of realizing all that might be -ours, the contentment that would fill our hearts, would we put aside -self and lean more perfectly upon Him.” - -“But there is something for us to do,” said her father. “We are not to -sit still; we are to act, and that diligently.” - -“Yes,” answered Mrs. Wyman, “Mr. Gordon said there was something for us -to do. The first act was obedience; the second was love and trust.” - -By this time dinner was on the table. The farmer was evidently in no -talkative mood, and few words were spoken. - -In the afternoon I walked with Alice to the Sabbath-school, and -returned comforted. Perhaps Mr. Wyman would turn me off; it was more -than probable he would. I had displeased him. Still, having done what I -thought to be right, I would trust it all to God. - -The next morning as we finished breakfast, and before we arose from the -table, Mr. Wyman said, - -“I owe you for two weeks’ work, Marston: I am sorry for what happened -yesterday; still I must have the direction of what shall be done on my -own farm. I shall fill your place with some one who will do what I ask -of him.” - -“Had it been any other than a plain, positive command, I should have -gone with you, Mr. Wyman; but so positive is the decree with regard to -the Sabbath, there could be no question with me concerning my duty.” - -Mrs. Wyman and Alice followed me down the walk, and begged me not to -cherish unkind feelings towards Mr. Wyman. - -“No fear of that,” I answered. “He has always been my friend, and I -shall not think unkindly of him for this. He is too good a man not to -be sorry when he thinks of it with his accustomed coolness.” - -I had nothing to do but to walk back to Claverton, and tell Jennie what -had befallen me. - -“I am sorry, Marston; but I should have been still sorrier had you -acted otherwise;” and she pressed her red lips to mine. “An entire -obedience is necessary. Do not be troubled; some good will come of it.” - -We walked down to the little gate, where stood a messenger from Mr. -Willett. - -“Mr. Willett would like to see Marston,” as Jennie took the message. - -“He has not been well for several weeks, and has inquired for you -continually,” she said, as she held the gate for me to pass. - -Mr. Willett was pillowed up in his easy-chair, and seemed delighted to -see me. - -“I am glad that you are free,” he said at length. “I have been sick, -and the doctor forbids all kinds of exertion. Every thing is going to -ruin in the store. If you will just go in, I shall consider it a great -favor, and will give you more than you can get doing any thing else.” - -How soon the black cloud had showed a silver lining. I had felt so -unwilling to leave Mr. Wyman, so sad and desponding, that I could not -think of any thing else as I walked back to the village. With all my -waywardness, God was not unmindful. Could I ever despond again? I felt -at the time that it would be impossible. - -“I told you something good would come of it,” said Jennie as I crossed -the street and once more entered the parlor. “‘A right effort is never -lost.’ This should teach us both to trust more perfectly.” - -Mr. Willett recovered rapidly; and by the time vacation was over, I was -appointed a regular teacher in the Rockdale academy. - -“This will delay your college course, but it will be better for you in -the end,” said Mr. Harlan. “You are still young enough to wait next -year, and your salary will enable you to begin. Besides, if you choose -to study while teaching, I will aid you all I can; and I have little -doubt you can enter the Sophomore class instead of the Freshman.” - -This was a step I had not thought of, and I quickly resolved not a -moment should be lost; to teach and to study should be my work for -another year. - -Among the first of the new pupils that particularly interested me when -I entered upon my duties was Ezra Metcalf. Stimulated by his little -teacher, he had put forth very commendable effort; and through the -interest of Mr. Gordon and one or two benevolent ladies of Terryville, -Mr. Harlan had been induced to take him, the boy paying his board, as I -had done, by labor. - -[Illustration] - - - - -XIII. - - -It proved as Mr. Harlan had said. The next year I entered the Sophomore -class, once more finding myself face to face with Frank Clavers and -Harry Gilmore. Their greeting was most cordial, and Harry’s friendship -was as warm as ever. Although my year’s salary had clothed me decently -and left me something for books, it still required the closest economy -to get along; making me appear, to those who had plenty, as close -and parsimonious. This was in itself a trial, and the hardest with -which I had to contend. Yet my frank avowal of a scanty purse saved -me from many temptations. In the various expedients of the students -for killing time I was not expected to share; and still I always had a -spare dollar for a new book, or sufficient to expend upon a course of -scientific lectures; while there were some lavish in expenditures for -rides, suppers, ices, and sherbet, who were at times obliged to deny -themselves the means of improvement. - -It was not trying to acknowledge poverty when the admission brought no -dishonor. Still, when with some of my class-mates who were rich men’s -sons, and well supplied with pin-money, I found to my cost that I had -not learned the lesson of self-conquest so perfectly as I had flattered -myself. I was once looking at a second-hand book in the presence of -Morris and Wright, two of the richest students in college. - -“That is what I call small business, to look up old threadbare books,” -said Morris, in a tone that I could not avoid hearing, at the same time -ordering a new copy of the same work; to which Wright replied, while -a contemptuous smile wreathed his proud lips. I could have wept with -vexation; and the next moment was ashamed of myself for giving way to -such a weak, ignoble feeling. - -Through all these days Jennie’s letters comforted me, and Mr. and Mrs. -Harlan did not forget me. - -“Regard the right,” said the latter in one of her letters, “and seek -for companions such as honor it. Think too much of yourself to cherish -a selfish thought or feeling; and let every act prove that a light -purse does not of necessity imply low tastes or a meagre intellect.” - -Little did the good woman imagine all the trials springing out of my -weakness. Still the strife was short, and invariably I found my way -back to the sheltering arms of that Friend who looks not alone to the -outward, and who judges not as man judges. - -Overhearing one of the professors saying that he could not find a -suitable gardener for his grounds, and having learned a good deal -of gardening from Mr. Harlan, I offered myself, and was accepted. I -needed exercise. This was just as good as boating, ball-playing, or the -gymnasium. - -One Saturday, as I returned from the river with a wheelbarrow of -pebbles for the flooring of a new arbor I had just planned, I met -several of my class-mates at the gate. Conquering my first impulse of -false shame, I advanced as though it was the most pleasant exercise -imaginable. - -“Gardening for the pleasure of it?” said Stevens, in a tone of irony he -knew so well to use. - -“Not for pleasure, Stevens, but from necessity;” and I walked on. The -next meeting was easier. I had filled the wheelbarrow again, and was -crossing the carriage-way, when Wright drove leisurely along in an -open buggy. As he passed me he touched his hat, while a mocking smile -wreathed his lips: - -“There goes the best scholar in his class.” - -“And the best I intend to be,” I said to myself, but without any -unpleasant feeling. - -Finishing my task, I went to the office for letters; passing the hotel -just as the numerous hacks had left a greater number of guests than -usual. I had nearly passed, when suddenly my name was called, and in -a voice that seemed strangely familiar. It was Silas June. He had -given up study, and had been two years in the city, and talked largely -of city pleasures and pursuits. His uncle had recently become very -wealthy through land speculation, and had generously offered Mrs. June -a home, and also taken Silas into his employ as a clerk. - -“I suppose you are planning ways and means yet,” he said at length. “I -remember you used to be good at this.” - -“Practice makes perfect,” I answered. - -“I have never had any thing else to do, and I am now quite as expert as -ever.” - -“I told you I should get along just as well without so much study, -although I did not then dream of the good in store for me. Uncle is -rich, and without a family of his own. He must do something with his -money, and I shall come in for a large share.” - -“I hope you will repay him by making a good and noble man.” - -“I shall please him, if that is what you mean, although it goes greatly -against my inclination to sit bound down day after day to the day-book -and ledger. Still night comes, and I enjoy while he sleeps.” - -“You enjoy; how so?” - -“Go to parties, operas, theatres, or into some saloon; anywhere, if I -find good company.” - -“You used to try to deceive yourself with regard to study,” I said, -with a degree of earnestness that made him laugh heartily. “Do not -deceive yourself now, and run into company that will lead you to ruin, -just because your uncle is rich enough to give you the opportunity. -Deception cannot prosper.” - -“Don’t everybody deceive--everybody but you and Lovell?” - -“That many practise it, I allow, and that some for a time succeed, is -very possible; but the end is not yet.” - -“There is no use in denying self-interest is the motive,” he answered; -“and if some noble deeds and benevolent actions are performed, the -mainspring is the same. I humor my uncle, for I need his money; you -study enough to kill a common man, making this a stepping-stone to -something else. What’s the difference?” - -There was a difference, notwithstanding his fluent speech. Back as -far as I could look there was still one purpose-- a strong and noble -manhood, a life of usefulness and honor; and in my estimation, a good -education would greatly contribute to bring this about. This was why I -studied, why I was resolved to study--not merely distinction, worldly -honor, or aggrandizement, but to possess a truly excellent character, -worthy the regard of others and the respect of myself. - - - - -XIV. - - -At length a year in college had passed; one more layer was unwrapped -from round the kernel of college lore, and as Juniors we were trying -with renewed powers honorably to rival each other. - -Not alone to us change had come, but to others. Miss Clavers had opened -a seminary in the little village bearing her father’s name, and Jennie -was an assistant. How full of love and encouragement were her letters. -How strange it all seemed: no longer a little girl that nestled in -my arms, and looked up to me as one able to do so much, but a tall, -stately young woman, going in and out before her pupils with the -conscious grace of one who feels that she is able to do all that she -has undertaken. - -It was a bright autumn day when Stevens invited a party of some half a -dozen students to walk with him to a town not far distant. For the last -six months I had been on friendly terms with him, so I did not think -it strange when he invited me; neither did I refuse to go. It was a -perfect day: the rich, fervid hues of autumn were spread over miles of -forest-trees and shrubbery; a thin veil of mist hung over every winding -stream, while the brilliant sunshine illuminated the many varying -shades of wood, water, and cloud, blending all in perfect harmony. - -That hazy, dreamy atmosphere, how well I remember it. The memory of -that walk makes my heart beat with much of its youthful buoyancy. Under -the exhilarating influence of the day, and our unexpected freedom, we -ran, laughed, shouted--appearing, as we really were, a company of -grown-up school-boys. I remember Harry Gilmore’s mirthful tone as we -pelted him with chestnuts, and how Wright forgot his dignity when we -covered his hat and shoulders with red and yellow leaves. - -After visiting a gallery of paintings, which was the ostensible object -of the excursion, and which we all expressed ourselves as sorry to -leave, Stevens invited us to step into a restaurant for refreshment. -Wright and Gilmore left us to make a call, but the remainder of the -party entered the saloon. - -When seated in an elegant room, we were soon supplied with tempting -viands. Not satisfied with a lavish profusion of fruits, cakes, and -ices, Stevens rang for the waiter, to whom he gave orders in an -undertone, the nature of which was evident from the speedy appearance -of glasses and bottles. - -“Now to the health of the company: may the shadow of each never -be less,” said Stevens, filling his glass. There was a burst of -applause, and I looked around the table, hoping to find at least one -representative of total abstinence; but with the exception of my own, -every glass was drained. - -“How is this?” said Stevens, eyeing me keenly; “afraid or unwilling to -pledge me in a glass of wine?” All eyes were turned upon me, and I felt -the blood recede from my face. - -“I am afraid, Stevens. I saw a student carried to his room the other -night. If I take a glass now, who knows but I may one day be found in a -like situation?” - -We walked back more quietly than we went. The sun had set, and a -vaporous veil of golden haze had floated off into the purple twilight, -and the watching stars came out one by one, with a dim, subdued light, -only seen on such autumnal nights. Stevens, who was my companion in -spite of my not joining him in the wine, was in a contemplative mood. - -“I don’t approve,” he said, “of wine, tobacco, or any thing of the -kind, and very often I make up my mind never to touch them again; -especially did I the other night when I saw Darcy in such a state.” - -“It is the only safe course,” I answered. - -“I know it,” he said earnestly, “and I like you all the better for not -touching it. I only ordered it for fear there were some who would think -it mean; ‘nothing to drink,’ as they say.” - -And so I believe it would be in every instance where a young man openly -avows his determination not to drink, smoke, or chew, waste his time, -or trifle with duty. After his resolves have once been tested, he -will only be thought more of by the wildest associate he has, and his -influence from that moment will be wider and more powerful. - -In college, as elsewhere, it is easy to select our associates. If -we wish, we can have the most studious and high-minded; or the -pleasure-seeker, who came to college because it was fashionable to do -so, and will get a diploma, if he gets one at all, because the wealth -of his father purchases it for him, the same as any other article of -luxury. - -Still, try as I would, I could not make friends with Wright. At first -he had looked down upon me: more recently he seemed to regard me only -as a rival; and to say the truth, we were quite even, our regular marks -in recitation seldom varying. The time now came when the subject for -a prize essay was given out, and knowing my chief competitor would be -Wright, I determined to surpass him. - -Not having a strong constitution, study wore upon him sadly. - -“Do not work so hard, I entreat you,” said our President one day as he -saw how wan and pale Wright was growing. “There is no use in this,” -taking the feverish hand in his. “Indeed I have been blind not to see -it before; you must rest, at all hazards.” - -“Not now,” said Wright. “I came here to take the first honor in my -class, and I will do it.” - -“You will not live to reach it, at this rate; and then what profit can -come from all your ambitious labors?” - -A week or two afterwards Wright was prostrate. - -“They say that you will win the prize,” said Stevens, coming into my -room on his way from the sick-bed. “If poor Wright had not been sick, -you might not have been so certain, however.” - -“Wright probably wrote his essay before he was sick,” I answered. - -“Yes, he wrote it, and I have read it, and I assure you it is a fine -production; but he cannot read it, and of course the prize will be -yours.” - -I went to my room in no enviable state of mind. I wanted the prize. I -had worked for it. But if Wright had written his essay, he must not -lose the honor because he was sick. Nothing more was said of it, and -all seemed to take it for granted that I should be the successful -competitor. - -At last I could bear it no longer. I called upon Stevens, as a friend -of Wright, to procure the essay; and then, with the conviction that -I was destroying my own hopes, I carried it to the chairman of the -committee, and begged him to suspend his decision until this had been -sufficiently examined. - -The result was as I expected. Wright was announced the winner of the -prize at the same time we were told that he was dangerously ill. How -insignificant at that hour the honors of the world! How sorry I was -that, in order to rival me, he had been obliged to study so hard; how -glad to think that perhaps he might know that he had won, and the -knowledge give him pleasure. - -Not long afterwards a messenger came to me from the sick-room. Wright -wanted to see me. I found him lying upon his bed, pale and wasted, the -mere shadow of his former self. - -“I wanted to thank you for your sacrifice on my behalf; they told me -all about it;” and his eyes closed languidly. I pressed his thin hand -cordially in my own. - -“Nor is that all,” he said, opening his eyes, glistening with deep -feeling. “I want you to forgive my former rudeness. I have always been -ashamed of it; not a moment but I have longed to tell you of my regard; -but you were my rival in study, and I could not bear it.” - -Was this Wright, the rich student, the one who had never given me a -word save those dictated by common civility, now asking my pardon, and -saying that he had always regarded me, and had longed to tell me so? -There was no room for deception; there he lay, weak and pale. I could -not restrain my emotion, and before I was aware, I was on my knees, my -arms about him, and my head resting on his pillow. - -“Sickness has taught me to see life under a new phase,” he resumed. -“These petty rivalries are unworthy the attention of immortal beings. -I have lived as though this life were all, following a shadow until it -had well-nigh landed me in the grave. Oh what would have become of me -had I died then?” and a shudder passed over his features. “You will -be glad to know that I have found Him whom you have loved for a long -time. I trust my sins are pardoned, that I have given my heart to the -Saviour. You must be my friend now; I cannot rest till I have it from -your own lips.” - -“Now, and ever,” I answered, as well as my emotion would allow. A sweet -peace showed itself on his countenance. - -“I knew you would forgive me.” - -The attendant came in and said that he must rest, and I went out full -of wonder at the power that could humble a proud spirit like Wright’s, -and change him to a meek penitent. - -My astonishment was increased when returning health enabled him to go -on with his studies. There was no longer rivalry; a new purpose burned -in his heart, beamed in his eye, and influenced every look and word; -not one that had known him before but was constrained to say that he -had been with Jesus. - -My last year in college was a constant delight to me. I was not so much -pressed by pecuniary matters. Above all, I had succeeded in winning the -good-will and esteem of those around me. After Wright’s illness, his -heart clung to me with as much intensity as before he had carefully -avoided me, while Harry Gilmore gave me all a brother’s love, and Frank -Clavers was the same true friend as ever. - -At Commencement, when the highest honor was awarded me, I felt a thrill -of satisfaction that was an ample equivalent for long years of labor. -Afterwards, when I stood before the assembled throng, conscious that -many eyes were upon me, and bright, happy faces looking their approval, -I only saw one, a sweet, pure face, with the golden hair parted over a -broad white forehead, while an expression of peace and of trust rested -on the whole countenance. It was a happy day to Jennie. So far my work -was done, and, they said, well done. I looked upon it as only reaching -another stage in my ascent; the first and second heights were won, and -a profession was now to be chosen. - -In the evening there was a levee at the President’s house, and for -Jennie’s sake as well as my own I was glad. The good man received me -very kindly, and so far unbent himself as to speak of the courage and -industry of my last three years, then of my success--introducing me to -several men who were there, and whom it was an honor and a privilege to -meet. “Energy is essential,” he said, “but patience and perseverance -are the crowning virtues. You have practised these faithfully. God -grant that you may continue to do the same to the end.” - -It was a happy gathering; and when I went to my room, it was first -to fall upon my knees, pouring out my heart in gratitude to that God -who had been so mindful, leading me by the hand up through the narrow -defile of poverty and want, into a broader way, where I could catch -glimpses of the promised land, renewing my vows, and consecrating -myself anew to his service. - - - - -XV. - - -“Now you are ready for a profession,” said Miss Grimshaw, as once more -we were seated in her little parlor. - -“Marston is troubled about being a lawyer,” Jennie said, as she leaned -over my shoulder, running her taper fingers through my hair. “He used -to think he could be happy in nothing else.” - -“Yes,” said grandma, “what fine speeches he used to make before the -looking-glass, and how often he said he would never undertake a case -that was not just, and then he would be sure to win.” - -True, grandma’s words carried me far back into my boyhood. I could -see now that I had been ambitious. Poor and friendless, I had read of -others who had attained worldly preferment and riches, and I resolved -to do the same. To be a successful lawyer seemed to me to be the height -of intellectual attainment. This I would be, and for this did I first -study. I was ambitious for myself, and I was equally ambitious for -Jennie. - -Once my great desire was to rise in the world; but now my aim was -higher. As a lawyer, I did not intend that my knowledge and influence -should become a screen for guilt. I would never be an oppressor of -the poor and miserable. I had not the remotest wish to make vice -appear virtue, nor to clothe transgressors in the garb of honorable -men; neither did I expect to bury my conscience. I looked for a noble -manhood. - -Now it seemed to me my life could not be spent aright if I did not make -the service of God my chief and direct aim, and that no other service -would suit me so well as, in utter self-renunciation, to give myself -entirely to the work of saving poor ruined sinners, spending my time, -talents, health, all, in telling in the nooks and corners of the land, -wherever I could find a listener, of the depth and fulness of His love -for man. Compared with this, the fields of worldly ambition seemed a -vast waste, without flowers or fruit. - -“I am glad that you feel like this, Marston;” and grandma tottered -across the room and laid her withered hand upon my head. “I have prayed -earnestly for this. Young, earnest, persevering, you have the power of -doing much good. I am thankful, Oh how thankful, that you see it in -this light.” - -The tears streamed over the cheeks of this aged saint. Jennie was -weeping too, and I could not speak. I felt my own unworthiness and -insufficiency, and only prayed that God would give me that ready tact -and skill to say and do those things that would be pleasing in his -sight, and enable me to win souls for his kingdom. - -Still, I had only passed through my collegiate course; there were years -of preparation before I could become fitted for the high and noble -office of a preacher of his word. In the darkest lot there is some -sunshine. With health, strength, some culture of mind, and the presence -of my Saviour, the passing clouds only made the sunshine brighter. - -Before the vacation closed I met Mr. Wyman. With his old frankness, he -invited us all to spend the day with him, and more than this, sent his -carriage to take us there. Considering that I had done nothing wrong, I -was delighted with again meeting him, as well as Mrs. Wyman and Alice, -in their old home. - -My greeting was cordial, while his had all the tenderness of a father. - -“I am glad to see, Marston, that you can forgive me for sending you -away as I did. I knew that I was wrong, that I ought not to do it, that -I was breaking a positive command; but I had always seen it done. My -father I believed to be a good man; and though he did not work on the -Sabbath, still, if his harvest or his hay-field was in danger of being -ruined by a shower, he gathered it in, let the day be what it might. -Then I was angry that you should reprimand me before all the hands.” - -“I only repeated the commandment. I did not intend it as a reproof of -mine. It was God’s command, and must be obeyed.” - -“I knew it; but I was vexed. You have forgiven me, Marston, and I hope -God has forgiven me. I have not had any Sabbath work done on the place -since then, that could possibly be avoided; and I trust that I live -nearer my Saviour and am a more consistent Christian than I was before.” - -Neither of us said any more on that subject; and before we left, -we bowed with clasped hands to seek our Father’s blessing upon the -reconciliation and on our future life. - -“Henceforth you shall truly stand to me in the light of Willie,” said -Mr. Wyman; “and still, had Willie lived, he would have been a minister -in the room of a lawyer.” - -“By the grace of God, I am to be a minister, Mr. Wyman.” - -“Are you, Marston? God be thanked for this. How many times during -the last four years have I washed it. But we thought you were fully -determined to become a lawyer.” - -“So I was; but God has made me feel that it is the highest honor for -mortals to serve him, and the highest service to spend and be spent in -telling poor sinful men of the Saviour. If I can get through with my -theological studies, I trust this will be my work.” - -“You can and you shall, Marston. Willie was to have been a minister. -You shall be to me as my Willie would have been.” - -When we reëntered the farm-house there was great rejoicing, Mrs. Wyman -taking me by the hand and telling me how thankful she felt that I had -changed my purpose. - -“A broad field of usefulness lies before you, Marston; you must, you -will fill it nobly.” - -I entered upon my theological course at once. Mr. Wyman was faithful -to his promise, making of me a second Willie. And now, as the pastor -of a prosperous church, I love to look back over the track of my early -years, and read His goodness in ordering all my steps. Surely his -goodness is unsearchable, and his love past finding out. - -Led by His grace, I love to recount all his goodness in the way he -has led me. I never pass a lad in the street, dirty, ragged, and -homeless, but I think of my own early lot; never look upon the pale -face and blue eyes of a little girl, that I do not think of Jennie, -kept by his goodness and shielded by his love. And I would say to all -the climbers--to all those boys and girls who are striving to help -themselves, to work, and study--first make the Saviour your friend, -give him your hearts, then go on courageously in the path he will be -sure to open before you. Never stop to parley with wrong, or to shun a -duty, however small and insignificant. A lofty purpose, pursued with -undeviating integrity, never fails of a rich and gracious reward. - -Would you know of my class-mates? Robert Lovell is a foreign -missionary, known and loved of God and man. Frank Clavers and Harry -Gilmore are lawyers of acknowledged ability and rare moral worth. -Wright, my former rival, is not only a brother clergyman and friend, -but as the husband of my darling Jennie, he claims still more of my -regard. - -Surely the prayers of our sainted mother, and the supplications of -our early friend, were heard by Him who ruleth all. Our path has been -hedged about by his kindness, and his banner over us has been love. - - - - -BOOKS ABOUT CHRIST. - - -THE LIFE OF CHRIST. - -Rev. WM. HANNA, D. D. Two maps and 20 full-page engravings from Doré. -A beautiful and low-priced edition for general circulation. 861 pp. -octavo. $3 50; gilt, $4 50; half morocco, $5 50. full morocco, $7. - - -CHRISTUS CONSOLATOR. - -An elegant compilation of the choicest hymns, for the people of God. By -Rev. A. C. THOMPSON, D. D., on tinted paper. Large 12mo. 360 pp.; $1 -50; extra, $2. - - -THE ROCK OF OUR SALVATION. - -Rev. WM. S. PLUMER, D. D. A rich storehouse of gospel truth. 12mo. $1 -50. - - -ATTRACTION OF THE CROSS. - -Rev. GARDINER SPRING, D. D. Illustrating the leading truths, -obligations, and hopes of Christianity. Large 12mo. $1 10. extra, $1 50. - - -CONVERSATIONS OF CHRIST WITH REPRESENTATIVE MEN. - -Rev. WM. ADAMS, D. D. A welcome book for thoughtful minds. 12mo. $1. - - -JESUS ON THE HOLY MOUNT. - -Rev. JOSEPH SANDERSON, D. D. No lover of the Bible and of Christ can -fail of benefit in reading it. 12mo. 80 cents. - - -THE PARABLES OF OUR LORD EXPLAINED AND ENFORCED. - -Rev. FRANCIS BOURDILLON, M. A., Rector of Woolbeding, Sussex. Full of -interest for home reading. 12mo. 90 cents. - - -CHRIST KNOCKING AT THE DOOR - -Of sinner’s hearts; or a solemn entreaty to receive the Saviour and his -gospel in this the day of mercy. FLAVEL. 12mo. 90 cents. - - -THE FOUNTAIN OF LIFE, - -Or, Display of Christ in his Essential and Mediatorial Glory, presents -Christ as he was with the Father in the ages of eternity, and in all -the offices and aspects in which he is revealed in the Old and New -Testaments, till his session on the right hand of God and coming to -judgment. Rev. JOHN FLAVEL. 12mo. 90 cents. - - -THE METHOD OF GRACE. - -A sequel to the above, showing the method by which the redemption -purchased by Christ is applied to men in the work of the Holy Spirit in -the heart. FLAVEL. 12mo. 90 cents. - - -JESUS CHRIST’S ALLURING LOVE. - -FLAVEL. 18mo. Extra, 50 cents. - - -THE MIND OF JESUS. - -MACDUFF. 18mo. 30 cents. - - -THE WORDS OF JESUS. - -MACDUFF. 18mo. 30 cents. - - -A PRESENT SAVIOUR. - -Or, Great Truths for Earnest Times. 18mo. 25 cents. - - -COME TO JESUS. - -Rev. NEWMAN HALL. 18mo. 20 cents. - - -FOLLOW JESUS. - -A sequel to Come to Jesus. 18mo. 25 cents. - - -THE TRIAL OF JESUS. - -18mo. 25 cts. - - - AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, - - _150 Nassau-street, New York; 116 Washington-street, Boston; 7408 - Chestnut-street, Philadelphia; 75 State-street, Rochester, etc._ - - - - -FOOTNOTE: - - -[A] The “sweet do-nothing” life. - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - - Archaic or alternate spelling has been retained from the original, - including contractions without apostrophes. - - The cover image for this eBook was created by the transcriber and is - entered into the public domain. - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CLIMBERS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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