KATIE ROBERTSON

A GIRLS STORY OF FACTORY LIFE

By MARGARET E. WINSLOWAuthor of "Miss Malcolm's Ten, " "Three Years at Glenwood, " etc. 

A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERSNEW YORK

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Copyright, 1885, By Congregational Sunday School and Publishing Society. 

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To the many boys and girls who are in early years earning an honorablesupport for themselves, or else assisting their parents by working infactories; to the multitudes of young church members, who may be glad ofsome practically helpful suggestions in surmounting the difficulties andresisting the temptations incident to their new lives; to mill-owners, who feel their solemn responsibility, as in the sight of God, for theintellectual and spiritual welfare of their operatives; and chiefly tothe young Christian manufacturer who has been the model from which thepicture of "Mr. James" has been copied, --this story, whose incidents aremostly true ones, is dedicated. 

That the Holy Spirit may make use of it to inculcate in young hearts asense of honorable independence, a conviction of the dignity offaithfully performed work, and, above all, an earnest and irrevocablechoice of God's blessed service and an entire committal of their ways tohim, is the sincere prayer of

 THE AUTHOR. 

SAUGERTIES, July 1, 1885. 

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KATIE ROBERTSON. 

CHAPTER I. 

A NEW DEPARTURE. 

"But, mother, it isn't as if I were going away from home, like the Lloydgirls; you might have a right to cry if that were the case. "

"I know, dear; it's all right, and I ought to be very thankful; but I'ma foolish woman. I can't bear to think of _my_ little girl, whom I haveguarded so tenderly, going among all those girls and men, and fightingher way in life. "

"I don't think I shall be much of a fighter, " laughed Katie, looking ather diminutive hands; "and why is it any worse to go among the boys andgirls in the factory than among the boys and girls in school? You neverminded that. "

"That was different--you weren't doing it for money. O me! what would Ihave thought when I married your father if any one had told me that hischild, his _girl_ child, would ever have to earn her bread!"

"Well, mother, I won't go, " said the girl, her bright looks fading away, "if you don't want me to; but I don't know what Mr. Sanderson willthink, he tried so hard to get me into the mill, and it was such a favorfrom Mr. Mountjoy. You _said_ you were very thankful. "

"So I was, so I am; but--but you don't understand, and perhaps it'sbetter you should not. I'll try not to grumble. "

This was promising more than Mrs. Robertson was able to perform perhaps, for she was a chronic and inveterate grumbler. But she had some excusein the present circumstances, for Katie was, as she said, her baby, andthe "apple of her eye. " Married when quite young to the handsome andintelligent young village doctor, she certainly had not expected ever tobe placed in a position where her children, her girls at least, wouldneed to earn their own bread. But in a few short years the doctor diedof a contagious disease he had taken from one of his patients, and as hehad not yet begun to accumulate anything, his young widow was left withher three children to struggle along as best she could. How she had doneit God and herself only knew. The little house was her own, the solepatrimony left by her own father. The horse and buggy, the medicallibrary and valuable professional instruments, medicines, etc. , weresold at a fair valuation; and the money thus secured, deposited in thebank, had served as a last resource whenever the barrel of meal failedor the cruse of oil ran dry. For the rest, Mrs. Robertson was employedby her neighbors to help turn and put down carpets, cover furniture, etc. Etc. , light jobs requiring judgment and skill rather than strength, for which her friends, who never placed her in a menial capacity, gladlypaid double the sum they would to any one else. She was also a capitalnurse, and in this position rendered herself very valuable in manyhouseholds, and for such services she was even more generouslyremunerated; so that somehow she managed to keep her head above waterwhile her children were small, and feed, clothe, and send them to schoolas they grew older. 

Her children were, of course, the one source of consolation left to thepoor widow, and many a long evening's work was both shortened andlightened by golden dreams of their future prosperity and success. 

When her eldest boy Eric was twelve, and when Alfred, the second child, was only ten, a friend made interest with Mr. Sanderson, superintendentof the bookbindery, auxiliary to the Squantown Paper Mills, to give thetwo boys steady employment, and since that time, four years ago, theirearnings, small but certain, had greatly helped in the family expenses. Both were noble, manly fellows, with, as yet, no bad habits. Theybrought their mother all that they earned, and were quite content topass their evenings with her and their little sister. Katie, who was nowthirteen, had always attended the public school in the village, ofcourse helping her mother with the housework and sewing. She was adelicate little creature, small for her years, but bright andintelligent, a general favorite with the village children as well aswith her Sunday-school teacher, Miss Etta Mountjoy, who was not sovery many years older than herself. 

Katie was a very lady-like looking girl, and did not seem fitted to dovery hard work, nor to mix among rough people, but she was anindependent little thing who knew very well how poor her mother was andhow hard both she and her brothers had to work. She knew that herbreakfasts, dinners, and suppers cost something, and that it took moneyto buy the good shoes and neat, whole dresses in which her mother alwayskept her dressed, and she resolved in her own wise little head to findsome way of contributing to the family stock. It was some time beforeshe saw her way clear to do this, but at last she took counsel of aschool-fellow whose sister worked in the folding-room of the SquantownPaper Mills and found that even a young girl might earn considerable inthis way. So, without telling any one at home of her plans, she, oneevening, presented herself before Mr. Sanderson and requested to betaken into the bindery. 

"What can you do, little puss?" said this gentleman, quite surprised. "You look about large enough to play with dolls, like my Nina. "

"I'm almost fourteen, " said Katie, drawing herself up to her full heightand trying to look sedate. "I'm two years older than Nina; I'm as old asyour Bertie, Mr. Sanderson, and I _must_ make some money. "

"Must you, indeed?" said he, beginning to be more interested. "Don't Iknow your face? Let me see. Why, it can't be--yes, it is KatieRobertson! How time flies! It seems to me only yesterday that yourfather died, and you were a baby; but Bertie was one, too, then, that'sa fact. How time does fly, to be sure! So you want to get into thebindery where your brothers are, I suppose?" Katie nodded. "Well, now, "continued he, "it's most unfortunate, but there isn't a vacancyanywhere; we have five or six applicants now waiting for a chance. Whydon't you try the mill?"

"The mill!" said Katie, "the paper-mill? But I don't know any one there;how could I go and ask strangers?"

"I think you're brave enough to ask any one, " said Mr. Sanderson. "Isuppose you'd find it hard, though, and perhaps no one would believethat you were old enough or strong enough to work. Your looks areagainst you, little one; and then, Mr. Mountjoy did not know your fatheras I did; he came here afterward. Let me see. Perhaps I might have someinfluence. Will you trust your case in my hands?" And, as the girlnodded, he continued: "Come here about this time to-morrow evening, andI will report progress. Perhaps I may have some good news for you, butdon't be too sure. It isn't so easy to get into the mill either; thereare always a great many applicants. You'll come?"

"Yes, sir, " said Katie, and went away in a state of disappointeduncertainty. It was not quite so easy to earn money as she had supposed. 

The little girl looked very mysterious all teatime, and threw outseveral hints that quite mystified her brothers about Mr. Sanderson andthe bindery. But no one guessed her secret, and the next afternoon, justas she was beginning to think of putting on her hat and running down toget her answer, who should come into the gate but Mr. Sanderson himself. 

Mrs. Robertson was greatly frightened when she saw him. She was one ofthose persons who always look on the dark side of things, and she fearedher boys had got into trouble and would perhaps lose their situations. She trembled so that she could hardly put on the widow's cap, in whichshe always appeared before strangers (although it was now six yearssince the doctor had left her and gone home to heaven), and said to herdaughter:--

"That's always our luck! Just as soon as things seem to be goingstraight with us, some terrible misfortune is sure to happen; we're themost unfortunate family in the world. "

The poor lady forgot that, with the one exception of her husband'sdeath, her life had been one of unmingled, as well as undeserved, happiness; and even in that loss her three children had been spared toher, friends had been raised up to help her, and there had never been aday when she and her children had not had enough plain food to eat andplain clothes to wear. It is thus that we are all apt to dishonor God bydwelling upon the one thing which in his providence he has seen fit totake away, and forgetting to thank him for all the many other blessingshe has given us. 

But Katie was full of expectation and suppressed delight. She was theopposite of her mother, and always expected good news, and she felt surethat Mr. Sanderson would not have taken the trouble to come himself, except to tell her that he had secured a place for her. Her eyes dancedas she let him in, and she looked inquiringly in his face. But he saidnothing, except:--

"Good-evening, Katie. I would like to see your mother a few moments. " Soshe ushered him into the "front room, " so seldom used, and went tosummon her mother, waiting outside the door till she should herself becalled in to the consultation. 

When Mr. Sanderson told Mrs. Robertson that he had called to say that hehad been successful in his application to Mr. Mountjoy, who had agreedto take Katie into the "rag-room" of the paper-mill, in consideration ofhis interest in her mother, she was completely taken by surprise andinclined to be offended with both gentlemen for their interference, asshe thought it, with her business; but when she heard that theapplication came from the child herself, while greatly surprised, shecould not but feel grateful to them for their trouble, and expressedherself so, while she nevertheless decidedly declined to allow Katie toaccept the position, saying she was altogether too young and toodelicate, and that she would not have her daughter disgraced by workingfor her living. 

"For the matter of that, " said Mr. Sanderson, "I shall be glad to havemy Bertie take the place if you don't want it for Katie. I have a largefamily to bring up, and I want my girls and boys both to be independent. I hadn't thought of it for Bertie quite yet, but your Katie reminded melast night of how old she is; and I see she is none too young to begin. "

This put a little different face on the matter, for Mrs. Sanderson andMrs. Robertson had been intimate friends when girls, in precisely thesame rank in life, although one had married a doctor and the other theoverseer of the bookbindery. Moreover, Mr. Sanderson was known to bevery well off and quite able--had he judged it best--to bring up hisgirls in idleness, as useless fine ladies. Perhaps it would not be sucha disgrace, after all, and they did sorely need the money. Katie was notdressed as her father's child should be, and toil as she might, evenwith the boys' wages the widow could not make more than sufficed to keepup the little home. Then, too, her child would have to do something forherself when she grew up; she would have no one to look to but herself, and though teaching would be perhaps a more genteel way of support, itwas a very laborious one, and would make it necessary to go away fromhome, as the Lloyd girls were going to do, and to remain away forseveral years, first at some higher institution of learning and then atthe Normal School, and where would the money come from to pay thetuition fees, traveling expenses, and board bills?

All this passed through Mrs. Robertson's mind as Mr. Sanderson reasonedwith her and showed her the foolishness of her objections, and finallythe impatient Katie was called in, and informed that she might "try itfor a while"; and then the visitor was thanked for his trouble, andtook his leave. 

This all happened a week ago. The intervening time had been spent inputting Katie's simple wardrobe in order and in making home arrangementsby which Mrs. Robertson would not miss her daughter more than she couldhelp, in those various little services which she had been wont torender. The last day had now come; to-morrow the new life was to begin, and Katie was clearing up the breakfast things for the last time whenthe conversation with which our story commences took place. 

"I wish it was not in the rag-room, " said Mrs. Robertson, by-and-by, when Katie, having finished her dishes and swept up the room, drew herseat to her mother's side and took up her work--the ruffle of the lastof the six mob-caps she was to wear at her work. 

"Why?" said her daughter, to whom the factory was just now a sort ofenchanted palace, any one of whose rooms was delightful to contemplate. 

"It's such a low, dirty place, I'm told, and there's so many commonwomen and girls there. "

"Well, I needn't talk to them, I suppose. I needn't be common, at anyrate, and I can't get dirty in those great long-sleeved aprons and thesenice little caps. You don't know how smart I'm going to be, and won'tyou be proud of your big girl when she brings home her firstthree-dollar bill, all earned in one week? Eric will see that a girl'sworth something, after all, and Alfred sha'n't make fun of me any more. "

Mrs. Robertson did not say anything else just now; she did not like tobe always checking the exuberance of her child's spirits with the dullforebodings of her own, but she could not see the paper-mill through thesame halo that invested it in Katie's eyes. She knew there were snaresand temptations, besides disagreeable and hard work to be met andencountered there, and she feared that the child's future disappointmentwould be proportioned to the brightness of her present hopes. Still, asthe matter was determined upon, she knew it was right to make the bestof it, and she tried to talk pleasantly and at least seem to sympathizewith her daughter's enthusiasm. 

So passed the day, and at night when the boys came home they werecalled upon to listen for the hundredth time to all the rose-coloredplans, and were pressed to declare that there could be nothing in theworld more delightful than working in a factory. 

But the boys could not see it in that light any more than their mother. They were as content to work as are most men and boys who seem to takeit for granted that it is in the course of nature for them to earn theirbread by the sweat of their brow, but they had been at it long enough tohave lost the sense of novelty and to understand that it was work andnot play which their sister was undertaking. 

"Won't you be sick of it!" said Alfred, in answer to one of Katie'soutbursts, "and long, when Saturday comes, to go out nutting with thegirls, or off on a hay-ride, or something! You'll wish you were freebefore you've been a slave many months, or I'm no prophet. "

"Well, she shall be free if she wants to, " said Eric, kindly. "Our onlylittle sister sha'n't work if she don't want to; we can take care ofher, Alfred, can't we?"

"But I do want to work, " said Katie; "I know I sha'n't get tired, or ifI do get tired of the work, I sha'n't of getting the money; for, boys, Imean to be a rich, independent woman, and help take care of mother. Youneedn't suppose that I'm going to be dependent upon you. "

"All right, young lady, " said Alfred, "only I think you'll sing adifferent tune before many months are over. "

"The tune you ought to sing just now, children, " said Mrs. Robertson, "is 'Good-night. ' You all have to go to work very early, and Katie isnot used to it. Good-night, darling, and don't forget to ask God tobless you and shield you in your new undertaking. "

"I asked him that night to make Mr. Mountjoy listen to Mr. Sanderson andgive me the place, " said Katie, with a rising color; "don't you think heheard me and answered my prayer? It seems as though he had just made itall straight and plain. I feel just like thanking him to-night; and, mother, don't you worry so much. Don't you think Jesus is strong enoughto take care of me anywhere if I ask him to?"

"Yes, indeed, " said the mother, almost ashamed of her forebodings, andrebuked, as she had many a time been, by the bright, hopeful faith ofher child. Surely when she looked at the bright, happy, healthy faces ofher children, she too had ample cause for thankfulness, and forcontinued trust in the divine love which had carried her safely throughso many emergencies and had promised never to leave or forsake her orhers. 

CHAPTER II. 

ENTERING. 

"Hallo, Katie, wake up, wake up!" and Eric rattled the knob of hissister's door. But he was compelled to do so many times before he hearda sleepy "What's the matter?"

"Matter? Why, it's high time you were up if you mean to get to thefactory this morning. "

"It's the middle of the night, " said Katie, yawning. 

"Indeed, it is not. It's after five o'clock, and work begins athalf-past six. You haven't a moment to spare if you want to dressyourself, get your breakfast, and get to the mill in time; it's fartheroff than the bindery. Come, be a brave girl, and jump up quickly. "

Thus adjured, the little girl jumped out of bed--but how cold and darkit was! although Eric had left the lamp in the hall outside. One ofKatie's failings--not an uncommon one among girls and boys--was a greatdislike to getting up early in the morning, and her mother had alwayshumored her in the matter, getting up herself and giving the boys theirbreakfast early, and then waking her little girl just in time to eat herown and get to school at nine o'clock. Even then it was sometimes adifficult task. 

The young work-woman had not included the necessity of getting up sovery early in the morning as one of the many anticipated delights of hernew position. This first taste of it seemed, on the contrary, quite ahardship. Still, when she was once out of bed, there was a certainromance in dressing by lamplight, and she knelt down by her bedside tooffer her morning prayer, with a strange feeling of mingled awe andthankfulness. 

Katie Robertson was a Christian girl, and was really desirous to pleasethe blessed Saviour who had done so much for her. She could not rememberthe time when she did not love him; but for the last few years, sinceshe had grown older and begun to understand things better, she had felta longing desire to be like him and to please him in her life andactions. She found time to open her little Bible this morning and readone or two verses by the light of the lamp. They were these:--

"In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths";"Whether, therefore, ye eat or drink, or _whatsoever_ ye do, do all tothe glory of God, " and "I can do all things through Christ whostrengthens me. "

And then she prayed earnestly that she might in these "ways" upon whichshe was entering always "acknowledge" God, be faithful to her work, doit "to the glory of God, " and have the strength which the Lord JesusChrist has promised to give to those who ask him, to resist temptationand stand up for truth and righteousness in the new life which laybefore her. She prayed, also, that her heavenly Father would give hersome work to do for him among her companions in the mill, and then shewent downstairs. 

Breakfast was all ready, and it seemed quite funny to eat it bylamplight; but by the time it was over it was pretty light outside, andwhen, warmly wrapped up, Katie left the house with her brothers therewas a rosy flush over the snow which sparkled and glistened, and theyoung factory-girl set out in high spirits for her first day's work. The boys escorted her as far as the great gates, where a good many othergirls and boys were waiting among a crowd of men and women, and then ranback to be in time at the bindery, which was a little nearer home. 

It was rather cold waiting outside, and, if the truth must be told, ourlittle girl felt just a trifle homesick among so many strangers, for asyet she had not seen a familiar face, and something seemed to rise inher throat that she found hard to swallow; but just as she felt that she_must_ have a good cry, and at the same time resolved that she wouldn't, the great steam-whistle shrieked, the bell in the tower rang, the gatesopened from the inside, the gathered crowd rushed in, and all along theroad might be seen flying figures of men, women, boys, and girls, hurrying to be in their places at the commencement of work and thusavoid the fine imposed upon stragglers. There was a pause of a fewmoments in the paved inside court while the inner doors of the greatbrick building were opened, and then the incoming crowd entering invarious directions, scattered among the different corridors and left the"new girl" standing alone and bewildered at the entrance. 

In front of her stretched a long, narrow hall, clean and fresh(Squantown Paper Mills were new and built after the most approvedmodels), with doors opening from it at intervals on both sides. Some ofthese doors were open and some were shut; into some the work-people wereconstantly disappearing, as though the doors were mouths that openedsuddenly and swallowed them up, and into some of the open ones Katiepeeped timidly and turned back disconsolately as she discovered thatthey only afforded entrance to similar corridors, pierced by similarrows of doors. 

At length the last straggler had entered, gone his way, and disappeared, and dead silence reigned. Katie felt as though she were alone in theuniverse, and almost wondered if she were to be left there forever, whena short, sharp, deafening whistle echoed through the hall, and at thesame instant the great building vibrated from top to bottom, the roar ofmachinery swallowed up the silence, and the day's work began. 

Immediately afterward a side door, close to where our little girl wasstanding, opened, and out of it came the foreman of the mill, who hadbeen up to this moment in the office, receiving his orders for the day. 

"Hallo, you!" he said crossly, seeing a girl standing idle in the hall;"why don't you go about your business? Go to work if you belong here; gohome if you don't! No idlers or beggars allowed here, so close to theoffice door, too. Come, run away quickly. "

"If you please, Mr. Thornton, I've come to work in the mill, in therag-room, but I don't know which way to go. "

"Oh!" said the foreman, "you're a new hand, eh? Rather a small one. Itseems to me Mr. Mountjoy will end by having a nursery rather than amill, but he knows his own business best, I suppose. New hands are notin my department, however. Mr. James, " he called, reopening the officedoor and putting his head in again, "here's some work for you. "

The "new hand" expected now to have an interview with the awful Mr. Mountjoy, Miss Etta's father, of whom she had heard so much, but hadnever yet seen, and began to tremble a little in anticipation. But, instead, a rosy-faced, light-haired young man appeared, to whom theforeman made a slight bow, and then went away. This was Mr. JamesMountjoy, Miss Etta's brother, and the only son of the proprietor of themill. Katie had heard her brothers, who were in his Sunday-school class, talk about him, but had never seen him before. 

"Your name, little girl, " he said pleasantly, as he ushered her into theoffice. 

"Katie Robertson, sir. Mr. Sanderson"--

"Oh, I know; Mr. Sanderson recommended you to my father. You look almosttoo small to work. Can you do anything?"

"I can cook, and wash dishes, and help mother, and sew; I was in thefirst class at school"--

"That is not any of it precisely the kind of work we do here, " said theyoung gentleman, pleasantly; "but no doubt you are a quick little girl, and if you are used to doing some kinds of work others will not come sohard to you. But you must understand in the beginning that work in afactory is work, not play; work that cannot be laid aside when one istired of it, or when one wants to go on an excursion or to do somethingelse. It is work, too, for which you are to be paid, and it would bedishonesty not to do it faithfully as in the sight of God. Our rules areno stricter than they must be for the best good of the work and thecomfort and protection of all, but we _expect_ them to be obeyed. Youwill remember that. There must be no playing or whispering in workhours, and you must always be on time. We want all our work-people to behappy, and I am sure that the best kind of happiness comes from fidelityto duty. Can you be a _faithful_ little girl?"

"Yes, sir, " said Katie, with a slight blush, though she did not feel atall afraid of him; "I am trying to please God everywhere, and I am surehe will help me to do so here. "

"I am glad to hear you say that, " said the young man, with a smile. "Ifevery man, woman, and child in this factory were really trusting in Godand trying to please him, we wouldn't need so many rules and the workwould not be so hard. One thing more: I believe you are to be in therag-room; that is a dirty place, in spite of all our efforts to keep itclean and well ventilated; you won't find it very pleasant there always, but perhaps you can learn to _endure_ for Christ's and duty's sake; andevery one has to begin at the bottom, you know, who means to climb tothe top of the ladder. "

During the latter part of this talk the gentleman and the child had beenascending flight after flight of broad, open staircases, as well asseveral narrow, spiral ones, crossing machinery-rooms, where great armsand wheels and screws, in constant motion, made the little girl shudder, and threading narrow passages and outside balconies, where the broadraceway foamed and roared fifty or sixty feet beneath them. Katie hadnever been inside of the great paper-mill before, though she had alwaysadmired its fine proportions and handsome architecture from the outside. She was surprised now to see how really beautiful everything was. Thefloors were laid in wood of two contrasting colors; the balusters wereof solid black walnut; there were rows and rows of clear glass windowsin the rooms and corridors, while the machinery was either of shiningsteel or polished brass. In some of the rooms were girls tending theruling and cutting and folding machines, and occasionally one would nodto Katie, but no one spoke except where the work rendered it necessary. 

At last the room next to the top of the vast building was reached, andthere Mr. James opened a door and ushered Katie into a room whichextended the whole length of one side of the building. The windows, ofwhich there were fifteen, were wide open, but for all that the air wasso thick with dust that at first Katie drew back with a sense ofsuffocation. 

"I told you it would not be pleasant, " said Mr. James, "but this is yourappointed place. Be a brave girl, and when you are used to it it won'tseem so bad. "

The sense of suffocation was caused by the particles of dust with whichthe air was heavily laden, and which flew from the piles of rags whichover fifty girls were busily engaged in sorting, putting thedark-colored ones by themselves, the medium-colored by themselves, andthe white ones--or those that had been white--into large boxes. As soonas these boxes were filled they were placed on wheelbarrows and emptiedinto long slides by men who waited for them and returned the boxes. Mr. James explained to his young companion that these slides emptied theircontents into great vats in the room below, where after lying some daysin a certain purifying solution they were boiled with soda to loosen thedirt, thoroughly washed by machinery, and passed into great copperkettles, where they were boiled to a pulp and ground at the same time, horizontal grindstones reducing them to the finest powder. He alsoshowed her that the dust was rendered much less hurtful than it wouldotherwise have been by a great fan kept constantly at work on one sideof the room, which drove it out of the windows in front of the girls, who were thus not compelled to breathe it unless they turned directlyaround facing the blast, as Katie had done on entering the room. He thenput her under the care of a pleasant-faced woman, whose duty it was tooversee the little girls, saw that she had a comfortable seat, shookhands with her, and went away. 

Mr. James was by no means called upon to be so polite to a "new hand";most employers would have told the child which way to go and then lefther to shift for herself, or at best have sent a man or boy to show herthe way. Perhaps he would have done so with some girls, but he saw thatthe child was timid and homesick, and knew that a few kind words wouldgo a great way toward making her feel at home and happy, and would serveas an offset against the disagreeable first impressions of the rag-room, and the weariness of regular work undertaken for the first time. 

Why should he care to have one of his factory girls "feel at home andhappy"? some one will say; his relations with them are only those ofbusiness: so much work for so much money; it was nothing to him whatthey thought or felt. Mr. James Mountjoy did not feel so. He thoughtthat his father and he were placed in this responsible position andgiven the care of several hundred human souls expressly that some goodwork might be done for them. He felt that human beings are moreprecious than machinery, and that happiness is an important factor ingoodness. He looked upon his work-people as those for whom he must giveaccount, and tried to act in all his dealings with them "to the glory ofGod. " Had he been actuated by the purest selfishness and the mostapproved business principles, he could not have chosen a wiser course;for men and women treated as friends become almost of necessityfriendly, and seeing their own interests cared for were all the morelikely to care for those of their employer. Katie Robertson certainlynever forgot Mr. James's judicious kindness on the morning of herentrance into the mill; he was to her the kindest, sweetest, and mostlovable of gentlemen. She felt ready to do anything he should tell herand to keep every rule he might make. Then, too, he was a Christian, andunderstood all about what she meant when she had said God would helpher; surely it must be very easy to be good and resist temptation in aplace with such a master, and she felt like thanking God that, in spiteof the suffocating dust, "the lines had fallen to her in such verypleasant places. "

CHAPTER III. 

THE FIRST DAY. 

Left to herself Katie looked timidly round. It is always an ordeal tomeet so many strangers for the first time, and our little friend wasbeginning to feel quite forlorn, when Miss Peters, the superintendent ofthe rag-room, came to her and began to show her about the work to bedone; how, besides the rags being sorted, the buttons were to be takenoff and the larger pieces cut into small ones by pulling themdexterously along and between two great sharp knives set on end for thepurpose. Katie had already covered her clean dress with the long-sleevedblue apron and her hair with the little mob-cap her mother had provided, and at once commenced her work, not at all seeing or noticing thescornful looks that passed between some of the girls whose ragged fineryand dirty hair-ribbons full of dust and "_flue_" presented a livelycontrast to her own neat and suitable equipment. We may observe, inpassing, that before long this simple method of protection so commendeditself to some of the more sensible girls and their parents that many ofthem adopted it and mob-caps and overalls became quite the fashion inthe mill. 

Katie was a smart little girl and could work very quickly when she setabout it; of course to-day she was anxious to show how much she coulddo, and her piles and boxes were fuller than those of any girls near herby the time of the warning whistle, which indicated that in half an hourthe dinner-bell would sound. Then there was a bustle in the room. Thepiles were taken away in long and deep barrows which men wheeled intothe room, the boxes were carried off, emptied into the vats, and broughtback again; some of the girls swept the floor and tables by which theystood; talking was permitted in this half-hour, and such a Babel as thetongues of forty or fifty girls suddenly unloosed can make may be betterimagined than described. The "new hand" took advantage of the intervalto divest herself of her cap and apron, and putting on her hat, afterwashing her hands in one of the row of basins provided for the purpose, appeared as neat and nice for her homeward walk as she had done in themorning when she came. 

Such was not the case with most of the girls, whose fluffy, disorderedappearance as they issued from the rag-room was proverbial. 

At precisely twelve o'clock the great bells began to clang and thesteam-whistle to shriek, and the long corridors and stairs echoed to thetramp of many feet as the hundreds of men, women, boys, and girls rusheddown and out, and scattered in every direction toward the many homeswhere dinner was awaiting them. 

Eric and Alfred met their sister just outside of the door, and the threewere soon at home, Katie talking so much and so fast all the way, thather brothers, as they said, "could hardly get in a word edgewise. " Manyof the mill operatives carried their dinner with them and spent the noonhour in gossip with each other, but Mrs. Robertson was careful both ofthe bodies and souls of her children. She knew that the former would bemuch more vigorous if every day they had a warm, comfortable, iffrugal, meal at noontide, and thought that the latter would be kept pureand unsullied much longer if not exposed to the kind of talk apt to passbetween idle men and women of all grades and associations in society. Soever since they first went into the bindery, the boys had regularly comehome to dinner, and were much the better, not only for it, but also forthe quick walk in the open fresh air. 

Poor Mrs. Robertson had passed a lonely morning. She was used to beingalone while her daughter was at school, but that was different; she hadconjured up all sorts of dangers and disagreeables that the girl mighthave to encounter, and she rather expected to see her brought in on aboard bruised and maimed from some part of the machinery into which shehad fallen or been entangled. But when Katie came rushing in like awhirlwind, in high spirits, with glowing cheeks and a splendid appetite, which yet she could scarcely take time to gratify, so full was she ofenthusiastic talk concerning the beauty and grandeur of the mill and thekindness of Mr. James, her mother felt rather ashamed of herforebodings. 

Never had a dinner tasted so nicely; never had the little girl, to herremembrance, eaten so much. She was in such a hurry to be off again, soas not to be late, that the boys declared she would not give them anytime to eat at all, and again predicted that in a month's time thingswould not be so rose-colored. 

In the afternoon a surprise awaited the little factory-girl. Hardly hadwork recommenced as the silence of voices and the noise of machineryfollowed upon the long steam-whistle, than Mr. James again appeared, followed by another "new hand. " She was a tall, stout girl; in realityjust about Katie's age, but looking several years older, dressed in alight-blue cashmere, considerably soiled and frayed. Her hair, which was"banged" low over her forehead, was braided in a long tail behind, andtied with a bunch of tumbled red ribbons, and around her neck was achain and locket intended to resemble gold. The girls all looked at herinappropriate costume, most of them with envy and admiration, a few withpity for a girl who knew no better than to come to factory work in sovery unsuitable a dress, and Katie looked up in some surprise to findthat the new comer, who had been placed next to her, was her old schoolcompanion, Bertie Sanderson. 

Miss Peters came forward pleasantly, showed the new girl how to do herwork just as she had showed Katie in the morning, and glancing at herdress, suggested that another time a similar protection to that of hercompanion would be advisable, and then left her to herself. 

Scarcely was her back turned than Bertie, looking round the room withgreat disgust, turned to Katie and said:--

"Isn't it hateful? Just think of _us_ made to work among factory-girls. I don't see what my father could have been thinking of!"

Katie made no answer, but pointed to Miss Peters, and then to the rulefor silence which was hung up conspicuously on the wall. 

"Nonsense!" said Bertie, "that don't mean me. I'm daughter of MrSanderson, the overseer of the bindery, don't you know? It's kind offunny that I should be in the rag-room among all the common girls, anyhow; but father said I'd got to begin work, and he guessed whatwouldn't hurt you wouldn't hurt me. But for the thought that you werehere I wouldn't have come at all, no matter what pa said. Ma don't thinkit genteel. I don't see what made you come; don't you think it'sdisgusting?"

"No, " said Katie, "I wanted to come, and I think the factory ismagnificent; besides, I want the money. "

"So do I, " said the other, "and pa said I should have all I earn tillthere's enough to get a silk dress. I do want a silk dress so, don'tyou?"

"No, " said Katie, "I don't care;" but at this moment Miss Peters cametoward them, saying, --

"No talking, girls; you are new hands, or I should have to fine you;every time a girl speaks it's a penny off of her day's wages, but I'lllet you off this time. Bertie, you haven't done a thing yet. "

Katie blushed, for though she had not stopped work a single moment, shehad been tempted by her companion into breaking the rules; but Bertielooked up insolently at the superintendent as she slowly took up someof the rags, and muttered in a low tone, which was heard by most of herneighbors:--

"Who's going to mind you? You're only a servant-girl, anyway;" for MissPeters had, in her early life, "lived out. "

Whether Miss Peters heard or not Katie could not be sure, but shethought she saw a heightened color in the young woman's face, and wasjust going to ask her companion how she could be guilty of suchrudeness, when she remembered the rule in time, checked herself, and puther finger significantly on her lips. 

As to Bertie, she stared round the room, working a little now and then, and talking aloud to herself as she could get no one to talk to her. Miss Peters was very indignant; but thought it best to take no noticejust yet; for, as the girl had said, she was Mr. Sanderson's daughter, and she did not know just how far it would do to enforce rules in hercase. 

The girls in the rag-room were dismissed at five o'clock, so, as thebindery did not close till six, Katie did not have the company of herbrothers on her homeward walk, Bertie taking their place, and talkingall the way about the indignity of working in a factory and the hardshipof having to work at all. She told about her cousins in the city, whowere quite fine ladies, according to Bertie's account, doing nothing butplay on the piano and do fancy-work. They were coming with their motherto make a visit in the summer, and how ashamed she should be to appearbefore them in the character of a paper-mill girl. The girl talked abouther father in anything but a respectful manner, but seemed to findcomfort in the thought of her silk dress. She had never had one yet, andit had long been the goal of her ambition. What color did Katie thinkwould be becoming to her? How would she have it made? how trimmed?

"I'll tell you what, Katie, " she said, "let's take our money when we getit and get silks exactly alike; then we can wear them to Sunday-schooltogether, and the other girls will see that it isn't so mean to befactory-girls after all. Even Miss Mountjoy herself can wear nothingfiner than silk, if she does always look so stuck up. "

But Katie failed to be infected with a desire for a silk dress. She hadnever worn anything but the plainest and poorest clothes, though theyhad always been whole, clean, and neatly made; her temptations did notlie in that line. She had insisted on beginning to work in order to helpher mother support the family, and to make it a little easier for themall to get along. She admired pretty things, of course, as all girls do, but she had an intuitive feeling that Sunday-school was not the place inwhich to show off fine clothes. Bertie's chatter did not please her, andthough they were old friends, or rather companions, having been to bothschool and Sunday-school together for some years, she was glad when theyparted at the corner house, which had once been the doctor's, and shecould go home to her mother. 

For the little girl was tired by this time; she had got up much earlierthan usual and had been on her feet all day, and besides the reaction ofso much excitement, even though it had been of a pleasurable nature, wascalculated to produce depression. Her mother was out when she got home, and there was nobody to welcome her but the gray cat, which did so, however, with the loudest of purrings, and the lounge in the warm roomlooked so comfortable that the tired little worker took pussy in herarms, lay down there, and began to think. She was not quite satisfiedwith her "first day. " The factory was quite as nice as she had expected, and Mr. James was nicer; but had she remembered "in _all_ her ways toacknowledge God" and "to do all to his glory"? She was afraid not; shehad broken the rules once, and had listened to Bertie's chatter, while adesire had arisen in her heart, not for a silk dress, but for plenty ofmoney, for a fine home, for a piano, and all the things that some girlshad, and she had been tempted to think it hard that some people shouldhave so much and some so little. Was God quite just to let it be so?

But, as she lay upon the lounge, rested by its soft cushions, warmed bythe fire, and soothed by the purring of the cat, she began to be ashamedof such thoughts. How many comforts, how much happiness God had givenher! A nice home, a loving mother, plenty to eat and wear, and healthand strength to earn enough to make them all so much more comfortable. She knew that all good things come from God, and if he had not put itinto the heart of Mr. Sanderson to speak to Mr. Mountjoy for her, shecould not have got the situation in the mill. The forty cents she hadearned to-day was directly God's gift, and so would be all the moneythat ever came to her in the future. She ought to be a very thankfullittle girl, and she was quite ashamed of her questionings. So shedropped down upon her knees by the lounge, and asked God to forgive herfor the sake of Jesus, and lying down again soon fell fast asleep. 

When she awoke it was dark; the boys had come home; her mother had comein so quietly as not to awaken her daughter, tea was quite ready, and itwas a very pleasant scene that her eyes, now entirely rested, openedupon, and a very happy, thankful little girl came to the table to eatthe nice supper which awaited her. 

After tea she and her brothers played games for some time; then Mrs. Robertson took her mending-basket, which was always very full, and Katiegot her thimble and helped, while Eric read aloud from a book of"Stories from History. " And so closed the first day of Katie Robertson's"factory life. "

CHAPTER IV. 

THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL. 

Miss Etta Mountjoy was a young lady of the period. She was the youngestof Mr. Mountjoy's children, and the baby and pet of all. Her mother diedwhen she was about five years old, and since then she had always doneexactly as she pleased; her father would not control her, and her eldestsister, who took charge of the family in her mother's place, could not. It was well that the girl had no evil tendencies and was, upon thewhole, well-principled, warm-hearted, and good-natured, or she might havegone very grievously astray. As it was, she was now at seventeen abright butterfly, flitting from one to another of the flowers of life, and sipping as much honey as she could from each. She was fond of allsorts of bright, pretty things, handsome clothes and jewelry included. She liked to sing and she liked to dance, to go to parties when therewere any, and to attend concerts and theatres when she went to town; ina word, she was fond of "having a good time, " as Americans express it, whenever and wherever she could get a chance. 

Nor did Miss Etta mind work. She was a girl of energy, who wouldwillingly walk miles to attend a picnic or climb a mountain, and she didnot hesitate to work for hours on a trimming for her dress, or even somemore useful piece of sewing. She was always having _furores_ forsomething; at one time it was gardening, when she coaxed her father tohave a good-sized piece of ground dug up and laid out for her, andactually raised, not flowers, as one would expect, but quite respectablevegetables, hoeing the beans, corn, and cabbages herself, and weedingout the cucumbers, lettuce, and radishes with persistent fidelity. 

At another time she had a poultry-mania, and a chicken-house with themost approved nests, warming-apparatus, etc. , was constructed for thelittle lady, and here she daily set the hens, fed the chickens, andcollected the eggs, selling them to her father at exorbitant prices. Again, cooking absorbed her time and gave occupation to her energies;and the family were treated to strange compounds of her concocting, while the old servant who reigned supreme in the kitchen was in thedepths of despair at the number of dishes and pans she was called uponto clear up, the waste and breakage that went on, and the generaldisorganization of her lifelong arrangements. 

Happily, or unhappily, these moods never were of long duration. Thereading-mania lasted just long enough for a handsome bookcase to bestocked with histories, biographies, etc. ; a few volumes of poems weredipped into, several novels read, and a big history attacked, when themood changed into a passion for skating, and the remainder of the winterwas consumed in preparing a fancy costume, getting the most approvedclub-skates, and learning to keep upright upon them; but by the time somuch was accomplished, the ice broke up and Miss Etta was obliged tofind some other occupation. Art came next in the list of the girl'sabsorbing avocations. A studio was fitted up, canvas stretched uponeasels, pencils sharpened, and quite a creditable beginning made uponsome pictures which showed considerable native taste and ability. 

Just now Sunday-school teaching had taken the place of all other things, and Etta Mountjoy devoted the energies of her many-sided nature to herclass. There had been more than one person opposed to entrusting sosacred a work to so light-minded and trivial a girl. Her brother Jamesconsidered it nothing short of sacrilege, and her oldest sister Eunicereasoned with her very gravely, and tried to show her that, in order toteach the truths of God, one should have some personal knowledge ofthem, and that the only acceptable motive for religious work was asincere desire to please God and benefit the souls of those whom Christcame to save. But Etta was not accustomed to be guided by her brotherand sister; she went to her father, told him she wanted to take a classin Sunday-school, and of course he said "Yes. " Then she went to thesuperintendent and made known her request, saying it was at her father'sdesire, which, as he was book-keeper at the paper-mill, would, she knew, have great weight. 

Mr. Scoville paused, hesitated, and finally resolved to consult thepastor, promising Etta her answer before Sunday came round. He wouldhave given an unqualified refusal had the petitioner been any one elsethan his employer's daughter. 

Mr. Morven, the pastor, however, thought differently. He had known theyoung girl ever since she was a very little one; he knew there was nopositive evil in her, and though he had not heretofore suspected her ofany serious thought, he looked upon her request as an indication ofgood, and said that perhaps the very familiarity with sacred thingswhich teaching a Sunday-school class would necessitate might be asbeneficial to the teacher as to the scholars. So Mr. Scoville, thoughrather against his better judgment, sent a note to Miss Etta grantingher request, having in his mind a certain class of little ones just outof the infant class, the teacher of which had announced her intention ofleaving the school. When he went to see this teacher, however, he foundshe had changed her mind, and there was no other class available exceptone composed of seven "big girls, " of whom Katie Robertson was one. Ofcourse, Mr. Scoville could not go back on his word, so Miss EttaMountjoy was formally installed as teacher of one of the most importantclasses of the school. 

Most of the girls liked her; some were seized with a violent admiration, if not of her, of her beautiful hats, delicate kid gloves, and all the_et cetera_ which go to make up the toilet of a modern young lady. Others liked her fresh, frank manner and sympathy with them and theirinterests. Indeed, she was so nearly on their own level as to age thatthere was no room for condescension on this account; while, as toposition, where was there ever an American girl of any age whoacknowledged to social inferiority? Katie alone felt, though she couldhardly explain it, the want of something in her new teacher which hadbeen peculiarly characteristic of the old one, who was a plain, elderlywoman, without much education, --namely, personal love and devotion tothe Lord Jesus, showing itself in an earnest desire that her scholarsmight also learn to love and serve him. This good teacher's prayers hadbeen answered, and her efforts blessed, in Katie Robertson's case, andhence the girl knew how to appreciate the difference. 

In some ways, however, Etta agreeably disappointed all theirexpectations. She set herself to study and prepare her lessons with anenergy that carried all before it; consulted commentaries, studieddates, compared contemporary history, committed to memory schedules, andlooked out illustrations, all of which she imparted to her class tillits members far surpassed all the others in the school in theirknowledge of scripture geography and history and biography. They couldgive complete lists of the patriarchs, the judges, the kings of Israeland Judah, and the major and minor prophets; and they never failed withthe dates of the deluge, the "call of Abraham, " the Exodus, theCaptivity, and all the periodic points by which the Bible is marked andmapped off in the voluminous Sunday-school literature of the day. As todistinctively religious teachings, every scholar had the catechismverbatim, ready to recite at a moment's notice, and a failure in the"golden text" was unknown. To be sure, other teachers in her vicinity, whose classes failed to win the unqualified praise accorded to hers, didsay that Miss Etta never failed to prompt her scholars if there seemedto be any hesitation; but perhaps that was due to a tinge of jealousy inconsequence of all the prizes given at a quarterly examination, including one for the teacher, having been won by this "banner class. "

All this was very well in its way. There is certainly no harm in knowingall we can about the Bible; it helps us to understand and appreciate it, and to answer the objections which foolish infidels are constantlybringing against it; but the girls, especially Katie, missed the pointedapplication; the showing how every wrong thing is sin; how sin must bepunished; how Jesus has borne the punishment, and so is ready andwilling to forgive the sin; how he loves all men, even though they aresinners, and is ready to give them strength to resist temptation andconquer sin, if they will diligently seek the aid of his Holy Spirit--inBible words, to make them "whiter than snow. " These are the true themesof Sunday-school teaching; the one end to be aimed at is so to bring upthe children in the "nurture and admonition of the Lord, " as that whenthey come to years of discretion they shall gladly confess him as theirMaster, and become noble, intelligent, active Christian men and women. Lacking this, all outside things are, as the apostle says, "soundingbrass and a tinkling cymbal. "

The only positive harm which Miss Etta did to her class was to foster insome of the girls a great admiration for dress and an ardent desire toimitate their teacher in this respect. Since the days of Eve a taste fordress has always been an inherent part of a girl's constitution, and isapt to become one of her greatest temptations, especially if she be apoor girl, as were most of these, and must procure cheap imitations offinery; or, if even these are beyond their reach, indulge indiscontented repinings, which are really rebellion against God. 

Squantown Sunday-school was a very pleasant one. Quite unlike the usualoblong wooden building, which in many country places serves for asecular school during the week and a Sunday-school on Sunday, it was apretty gothic brick building, handsomely fitted up with folding-seats, areed organ, and an uncommonly good library. A nice carpet was upon thefloor, and pretty illuminated texts painted upon the walls; the windowswere narrow and pointed, with little diamond-shaped panes, and whenopened gave a near view of the minister's garden full of bright-huedflowers, and a more distant one of softly outlined blue mountains, whosetops, capped in summer with snowy clouds and in winter with veritablesnow, formed apt illustrations to thoughtful teachers of the "mountainsthat stand round about Jerusalem, " and symbolized the protecting loveand care of the Lord for his people. 

The beautiful Sunday-school building was largely due to the efforts ofMr. James, who had his father's well-filled purse to draw from; and hehad interested himself in getting the scholars together, as well as inintroducing among them all modern improvements. He was greatlyinterested in his class of big boys, over whom his influence was mostbeneficial. Nearly all of them had already confessed Christ, and weremostly manly Christians, exercising a good influence upon the other boysin the mill or bindery, to which they, as well as nearly all the membersof the school, belonged. 

Miss Eunice Mountjoy was also engaged in the Sunday-school, havingcharge of the Bible-class, which contained all the oldest scholars, someof them quite young men and women. She was a very different sort ofperson from her youngest sister. Fully twelve years her senior, shelooked and seemed much older than she really was, and no one had foryears thought of calling her a "girl, " although now she was onlytwenty-nine. When she was quite a girl her mother had died, leaving herwith the care of all her sisters and her brother, to whom she had, indeed, done a mother's part. Her chief aim in life had always been to"do all to the glory of God, " and to her Bible-class she gave her mostearnest efforts and her warmest prayers. Her influence was great athome, in the mill, and throughout the town of Squantown, though, as faras possible, she obeyed the scripture injunction not to let her lefthand know what her right hand was doing. She always invited the femalemembers of her class to take tea with her every Wednesday night; theboys and young men being expected to come afterward, remain a littlewhile, and then escort their sisters, cousins, and friends home. Theselittle meetings were very pleasant; sometimes pretty fancy-work--to besold for the benefit of the class missionary fund--was done; sometimesclothes were cut out and made for some of the poorer factory children, or some fatherless baby, while Miss Eunice read aloud some interestingbook; sometimes when the topics suggested by last Sunday's lesson hadproved too voluminous for the time of the session, they were taken upand discussed on Wednesday; sometimes difficult points in next week'slesson were anticipated. In this way the teacher became reallyacquainted with the members of her class, their dispositions, temptations, and interests; she gained their confidence, and was oftenable to advise and assist them in many ways, and they learned to lookupon her as a friend to whom they might apply in time of need. And, asa secondary benefit, the girls learned a great deal in the way ofcutting out, basting, and other mysteries of needlework calculated toprove very useful to them in their future capacity of wives and mothers. 

Eunice had often wished that the same plan could be pursued in the otherelder classes; but their teachers, who were mostly employed in somecapacity in the mill, could hardly spare the time, and Etta certainlywas not fitted for the work. As an experiment, however, on the firstSunday after Katie entered the mill she came over to her sister's classand invited all the girls, or as many as chose to do so, to join hers onWednesday afternoon next, saying she had something of interest andimportance to talk about. As the invitation was one that seemed to placethose to whom it was given in the rank of grown-up girls, it was at oncegladly accepted, especially as most of the girls had never been insideof Mr. Mountjoy's house and grounds, and would gladly see the luxury ofwhich they had heard so much. 

There was a great deal of talk after the close of the session about theinvitation and the proposed meeting, and some curiosity was expressedas to the "important thing" Miss Eunice was to talk about. One or two ofthe girls said they were sorry they had accepted the invitation; theydidn't like "to have religion poked at them"; they guessed they wouldn'tgo. Before the appointed day, however, curiosity got the better of thesefainthearted ones, and not a girl of Etta's class was wanting when thetime arrived. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE TEA-PARTY. 

At exactly six o'clock some twenty young girls of various ages assembledat "the great house, " as Mr. Mountjoy's grand mansion was called in thevillage. They could not come earlier, as most of them worked in themill, which they could not leave till five or half-past five;consequently they all arrived at about the same time. They were receivedwith perfect politeness by the servant, who opened the door and usheredthem, as she would have done any other visitors, into the spare-room, prettily furnished in blue and white satin, with white lace hangings andsilver ornaments. Here they laid aside their hats, and taking theirlittle work-baskets, descended to the great drawing-room, whosesplendors considerably surprised the younger girls; the older ones wereused to it. At the door Miss Eunice with Etta, the latter arrayed in awonderful costume, met and received their guests, and after lingeringfor a while among the paintings, engravings, nicknacks, etc. , led themto an inner room, the windows of which overlooked the garden in summer, and a door from which opened into a greenhouse, now full of bloomingflowers. 

This was the family sitting-room, generally the abode of Miss Eunice, for Etta was too much of a butterfly to stay anywhere, and Rhoda, themiddle sister, now about twenty, was an artist, entirely devoted topainting, spending her days and a great part of her nights in herstudio, and caring nothing for any of the interests connected with ourstory. It was luxuriously furnished, more with a view to comfort than toshow, and as the girls sank into the easy sofas or into the deep stuffedchairs, or else made themselves comfortable upon low seats and divans, the contrast with their own bare homes and hardworking life was enoughto call forth many a sigh of rest and enjoyment. Work was then produced, the usual inquiries after parents and sisters, invalids and home-keepersasked and answered, with a little other familiar conversation, when MissEunice said: "I think, girls, as we have finished the book upon whichwe have been so long engaged, we will not commence another to-day, butdevote our thoughts to a subject about which I have been thinking agreat deal, and which your pastor agrees with me in thinking of verygreat importance to be brought before you. I mean a public confession ofChrist as your Saviour and Master. "

Some of the girls looked grave, some blushed, some were confused. KatieRobertson glanced up expectantly, for this was an opportunity she hadlong been on the lookout for, and longed to hear more about it. One ofthe elder girls said:--

"But, Miss Eunice, nobody ought to join the church who is notconverted. "

"That is very true, but is it not equally true that all who areconverted ought to join the church, as you express it, or, as I preferto say, confess their Saviour? It is only a mean soul which is willingto accept gifts and favors and never openly acknowledge its gratitudefor them. I wouldn't care for the friendship of any one who was ashamedto own me before other people; and I wouldn't think much of a soldierwho did not show his colors and put on the uniform of his country. "

Katie felt her face flush; for was she not one of these very secretfriends--one of the soldiers who had not as yet put on the uniform? Notthat she had really been ashamed to do so, but the subject had not beenvery prominently brought to her notice, and when she had thought of itat all it had seemed such a strange, awful, public step for so young agirl to take. She felt so unworthy; it seemed a thing for old people todo, not for little girls. But Miss Eunice had thrown a new light uponthe subject, and it looked differently from what it had ever lookedbefore. 

"But if we are not Christians, Miss Eunice, you wouldn't like us to acta lie. "

"God forbid, Mary; did you ever think that you _ought_ to be aChristian?--ought to be in that state which will make it possible foryou to obey the simple command of Christ to confess him before men?"

"A command, Miss Eunice?"

"Yes, a command accompanied by both a promise and a threat. 'Whosoevershall confess me before men, him will I confess also before my Fatherwhich is in heaven, but whosoever shall deny me before men, him will Ialso deny before my Father which is in heaven. '"

"But still, " persisted the first speaker, "if one isn't converted. "

"And what is to prevent one's being converted. Don't you think God iswilling to give you grace sufficient to enable you to do and be all thathe commands you? The greatest mistake young people can make is tosuppose that they must wait, and not take the first step toward areligious life till something mysterious comes to them and lifts theminto it almost against their own will. "

"Not _against_ our own wills; I am sure everybody wants to be saved. "

"Yes, dear, against their own will, for if any one wills to be aChristian, she can be one at once. I must insist upon it, because it isour Saviour's own teachings. He says: 'Ye will not come unto me that yemight have life'; and so I am sure that if any one does not have life, spiritual life, it is because she _will_ not come unto him. "

"I'd like to come, " said one girl, timidly, "but I don't see exactlyhow. "

"I dare say most of you would. Mr. Morven and I have been talking itover. He feels that the time for a spiritual harvest among our people, especially among our carefully taught Sunday scholars, has about come, and he thinks that, with a little more definite help and teaching, manyof you would be glad to come to Jesus, and be enrolled as his followersnow, instead of waiting for that indefinite sometime which may nevercome. I have a book here which, in words so simple that the youngestgirl here can understand, explains how we may come to Christ byrepentance and faith in his sacrifice upon the cross, etc. It ispleasantly written and illustrated with anecdotes. I think you will alllike it, and I propose to read a little of it aloud every Wednesdayafternoon for the next month, and at the close of the reading we willhave a little familiar conversation on this, the most important of alltopics. As most of the girls in my sister's class are of quitesufficient age to understand what it means to be a Christian andhonestly to consider their own duty in this respect, I shall be veryhappy to see them also, and any others of their friends, either in theSunday-school or from outside. Girls, this is a very important subject, and I trust you will think of it conscientiously and decide upon yourown individual duty as in the sight of God. If you fail to make a rightuse of this season, another similar opportunity may never be given you. Let us commence by asking God's blessing upon our reading and thinking, and the presence of that Holy Spirit without whose aid we can never cometo any decision that will be pleasing to him. "

Miss Eunice then knelt down while all the girls knelt around her, andprayed in low tones that the influences of the Holy Spirit might bepoured out upon all present; that they might have wisdom to see theirduty at this solemn moment and grace to do it; that they might not beself-deceived, but really surrender their hearts into the hands of theirSaviour, and, putting their whole trust in him, be willing to confesshim before men, that he might confess them before the angels and hisFather. 

Some serious talk followed, and then tea was announced, after which theconversation became general, and at nine o'clock the girls and theirbrothers and friends, who had come for them, went home quietly, and forthe most part wrapped in serious thought. 

Etta Mountjoy had never felt so strangely in her life. She had alwaysknown that some people were professing Christians; nay, she had, duringher visits to the city, and even at home, seen people, even young girls, come forward and take upon themselves the vows of Christ. Perhaps it mayhave occurred to her that "sometime" she should do so, but to bedeliberately called upon to consider her own immediate duty in thematter had not happened to her before. Once or twice, indeed, when shewas much younger, "Sister Eunice" or "Brother James" had attempted tospeak to her upon the subject, but she always turned away from it insuch a flippant way that both felt she was in no proper frame for theconsideration of so solemn a theme, and of late they had foreborne tomention it. It was with a view, perhaps, of interesting her sister quiteas much as her sister's scholars that Eunice had invited them upon thepresent occasion, knowing that the young girl's lively interest in herclass would induce her to be present if its members were, and to hergreat joy and thankfulness she was not disappointed. Etta had neverheard her sister pray before, though the Wednesday afternoon meetingswere often thus opened, and it seemed to her something almost awful tohear the language which she had always associated with a grave ministerand a solemn church service spoken reverently, it is true, but quitefamiliarly, by her sister. 

Then, too, the question with which the reading closed: "Will _you_ nowthus confess Christ?" How could she answer it? Was she in a fit statefor so solemn an action, she, a butterfly flitting from one avocation toanother, with no thought or aim beyond pleasing herself? She knew shewas not. She had given up the child-habit of "saying her prayers, " andshe had never learned really to pray. Until she took that class she hadnot, for some years, voluntarily opened her Bible, and now she knew thatall her energetic study of the technicalities of the Holy Word had in itno grain of desire to please or glorify God. Even her devotion toSunday-school teaching, usually supposed to be Christian work, had in itno leaven of Christianity, being only self-pleasing from end to end. Etta was sufficiently clear-sighted to see all this. She knew that shenever thought of God. His approval or disapproval was all one to her, and while she had never denied or openly scoffed at religion, and had noreason to doubt the truths of its facts and doctrines, she was, so faras anything practical went, not a Christian at all. What had she to"confess"? And yet, how strange it would seem if some of those to whomshe stood in the position of teacher, who of necessity looked up to andimitated her, should become Christians and church members, when she hadnever taken the same stand. Stranger still, and worse, if they should bedeterred from what seemed to them a duty by the example of theirSunday-school teacher. Etta had never been placed in such a dilemmabefore, and she heartily wished either that her sister had not invitedher class, or that the class had not accepted the invitation, and thatthe girls would never come again, and yet she hardly liked to advisethem not to do so. 

"I don't like that kind of a party at all, " said Bertie Sanderson, whenthe group of younger girls were well out of hearing of the house. "Shejust got us there under false pretences, calling it fun and turning itinto a sort of church. We get prayers enough, in all conscience, onSundays. "

"I'd rather have Miss Etta talk to us about the patriarchs and thestories and all that, " said Matilda Eckart, who was a good scholar, orwould have been if she had not, by the necessities of her family, beenforced to work in the mill. "I like to learn things; still I like MissEunice, too. She's real sweet, and maybe we ought to do as she says. "

"Nonsense!" said another girl, Helen Felting by name, "Miss Etta isn't aChristian, and she's her own sister and three or four years older thanwe are. I don't want to be any better than she is. My, ain't her dresslovely, all silk and velvet, and such an exquisite shade! fits so, too, just as if it was her skin!"

"Did you see her ear-rings?" said another. "Real diamonds, all setround with pearls, and _such_ a chain and locket!"

"I don't care, " said Bertie; meaning, of course, that she did care verymuch. "We girls haven't got so much money and we can't have real things. I like my chain and locket just as well (which she didn't, for she wasquite keen enough to understand the difference), but I won't go thereagain till I get my silk dress made;" and she glanced disgustedly at thelight-blue cashmere which, as it was her best dress, she chose to wearon all occasions, and which looked already much the worse for its weekin the rag-room at the mill. 

Katie Robertson did not speak at all, except to answer the questions ofEric, who had come for her, as to whether she had had a pleasant timedecidedly in the affirmative. She was thinking very deeply. We have seenthat our Katie was a faithful, conscientious little girl, loving Godsincerely, trusting in her Saviour, and striving to please him and growlike him. She loved to study the Bible, which she knew was his word, andto pray to him in her own simple language every night and morning; nay, often at other times when she felt the need of his help, or hadsomething she wanted to tell him about. She had not asked herself anyhard questions yet about whether she were a Christian or not. She knewshe was her mother's Katie because she loved her mother and wanted toplease her, and she knew she was God's child because she loved him andwanted to please him. She often did things, and said things, and thoughtthings that she knew were displeasing to both, but she did not want todo so. She was always very sorry, she always asked to be forgiven andbelieved she was, for did not her mother say so each time, and had nother heavenly Father promised so once for all in the Bible?

But this afternoon the thought had really come to her that she _ought_publicly to confess herself a Christian; and yet she shrank from it, shehardly knew why. She was afraid she might afterward do something whichwould disgrace such a holy profession; and yet, if her Saviour commandedit, as he certainly did, that made it a duty, and, of course, she oughtto obey, trusting him to help her keep all the promises as he hadpromised to do. He would like it, too, so much; it would be easierafterward to resist temptation and to "stand up for Jesus" among hercompanions. 

Katie's thoughts were very busy ones, and by the time she came in sightof her home she had decided that, if her mother and the pastor had noobjection, she would give in her name among those who were, at the firstopportunity, to confess Christ. 

The Wednesday afternoon meetings were continued throughout the springand early summer, and were attended by all the members of Miss Eunice'sclass, nearly all those of her sister's, and five or six other girls whoaccepted the kind invitation of the former. There was always the samehospitality, always the same warm welcome, and always the same grave buthappy earnestness on the part of the young lady on whom God had laidthis great work. As the warm days came on, the meetings were adjournedto the velvety, close-shaven lawn, where chairs and rustic seats wereclustered under the shade of a great, wide-spreading tree, and thesweet, holy themes of reading and conversation seemed all the sweeterthat they were henceforth associated with blue sky, bright flowers, white clouds, green leaves, and the other things made by the God who waseven now calling these young hearts into his service. 

Miss Eunice went through with a pretty thorough course of reading uponsin, repentance, faith in Christ, renunciation of all evil, walkingobediently in God's holy will and commandments, which is another namefor holy living, and as she prayed constantly for God's blessing uponher efforts, she had great cause for thankfulness in the hope that manyof these young souls thus brought, for the first time, face to face withtheir personal responsibility toward God, and his loving provision fortheir salvation, really chose the "better part, " which no man can takeaway from us, --"passed from death unto life, " and in publiclyconfessing Christ made no false profession. 

CHAPTER VI. 

A DISCOVERY. 

Meanwhile work in the mill was becoming an old story and, as such, decidedly monotonous. The glamour had passed by, and Squantown PaperMill had ceased to be an enchanted palace and become a prosaic place ofdaily toil. Such disenchantments are always more or less painful, andKatie's high spirits declined proportionally. It was well thatprinciples of self-support, independence, and duty to God, underlay herenthusiasm, or it would soon have died away, being choked to death bythe dust from the rags. 

The little pile of money that was ready to be carried home everySaturday night at first did a great deal toward rekindling the oldenthusiasm. The first week it was only two dollars and forty cents, buton the second it had risen to three dollars, fifty cents a day being theregular price paid to the "rag-room girls. " By this time the "new hand"was new no longer, and she had learned to work so fast as to accomplishthe amount usually done in a day in a much shorter time, and then MissPeters told her she might go home. 

Mr. Mountjoy, or rather "Mr. James, " upon whom all arrangementsconcerning the work-people devolved, was not one of those employers whoconsider that they have bought all the time of their employees. He had aright to a fair day's work in return for a fair day's wages, but if anyone was industrious enough to do more than this, the time thus gainedwas his own to use as he liked. Many of the elder workers did use it inthe mill, receiving extra pay for extra work, when, as sometimeshappened, there was extra work to be done. Some of her companions madeas much as a dollar a day in this way. But Mrs. Robertson was giftedwith good sense, and knew that her child's young strength must not beovertaxed and thus the development of the future woman be stunted. SoKatie came home generally about four o'clock, and had plenty of time torest, to help her mother about the house, to keep up some of her oldschool studies, and to read the very valuable and interesting books ofwhich the Sunday-school library was composed. Her mother took her moneyand kept it for her, hoping thus to have enough for the summer outfitshe would so soon need. The child would gladly have done extra work inorder to make extra money, she knew so well how much it was needed, buther mother was inexorable, and she was forced to submit. 

As to Bertie, she never finished her day's work at all. Her time waslargely spent in looking out of window, studying the dresses and ribbonsof the other girls, making signs to her companions, and whispering toher neighbor whenever Miss Peters's back was turned. She hated her workand would have given it up long ago, at least as soon as the silk dresshad been procured, and her mother would have very injudiciouslypurchased it long before the money had been earned, but that her fatherwas resolute. The mill would have dispensed with her society as soon asher idleness and inefficiency were seen, except that Mr. Sanderson washer father, and it was thought best to show due consideration to him. 

"Dear me! how hateful it all is, " said Bertie, with a yawn, one dayduring the half-hour when talking was permitted. "Are you not heartilysick of it, Katie?"

"It's a little monotonous, I own, " said the girl addressed, "but then, no work is play, I suppose. Maybe we'll get promoted to the folding-roomsoon, and it will be much nicer there. "

"It isn't a bit nicer. It's work anywhere, and I hate work. I never meanto do a bit of it that I can help. Ma says pa'll have money enough tomake us all rich, and I want to be a lady. " "Ma" had been a factory-girlherself, which was perhaps one reason why Bertie despised the business. She had married the foreman of the mill, who had now risen to beoverseer of the bindery, and yearly laid up a large portion of hissalary, while her sister had married a city grocer, who was spending allhe made as he made it, and his children were growing up to be useless, fine ladies, and a positive injury to their country cousins. 

"But while you do work you might do it faithfully, not spend time forwhich you are paid in idleness, and crowd in rags with the buttons allon, which will be sure to spoil the machinery when they come to beground. "

"Bah! what difference does it make? I'm paid for my time. Provided Istay here all day, they haven't a right to claim anything more. "

"But, Bertie, they have. Don't you remember the text which is painted onthe wall at the foot of the corridor?

 "'Not slothful in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord. '"

"It seems to me just like stealing to waste time that we're paid for, ornot to do work entrusted to us just as well as we possibly can. "

"Oh, well, you're one of the saints, you know. If it's saintship to berude and call other people thieves I'm glad I'm a sinner, that's all. Iguess we'll catch the saint in a slip before long, don't you, girls?"said she, appealing to several other idlers who naturally congregatedaround a bird of the same feather as themselves. 

Bertie and Katie did not walk home together any more. The former, neverhaving finished her work, was always obliged to remain in the mill tillthe closing-bell rang, while the former went home, as we have seen, atfour o'clock, and at noon she was generally met by her brothers. 

"Eric, " she said on the day of the above conversation, "do you thinkit's right to idle and talk instead of doing your work?"

"We can't in the bindery; the machine won't let us. Everything would goto thunder if we looked off. "

"But suppose you could, and nobody knew anything about it?"

"They couldn't fine you if they didn't know, " said Alfred, whose ideasof the righteousness of law were modified by the possibility of escapingits penalty. 

"What difference would that make?" said Eric. "God would know. "

"Yes, " said Katie, "I always wish the words 'Thou God seest me, ' werewritten up on the walls of the mill. It helps you not to get tired andwant to stop. "

"Do you ever want to stop, Katie?" said her brother, tenderly. 

"Yes, lots of times, It's just the same thing day after day, no change, no variety, the dust suffocates you, and it's so hard to get up in themorning, and"--

"Sho!" shouted Alfred, "I thought you'd sing a different tune after you'dbeen in the factory a little while. Don't you remember I told youso?"

"Katie, " said Eric, "you remember _I_ told you that you should not workone moment longer than you wanted to. A girl with two strong brothers tosupport her need not work for her living unless she chooses to. Do youwant to stop now?"

"I _want_ to, ever so much, " said the girl, "but I don't _mean_ to. Doyou think I am a baby to begin a thing and then leave it off again?There's just as much reason as there ever was for my earning money. I'mnot going to be dependent upon you, and mother is growing older everyday. Do you remember what the Bible says about those who put their handsto the plough and look back? I don't mean to be one of those; and I meanto pray every day, " she said more softly, "that I may be more patientand persevering. "

Eric understood her, and even Alfred respected his sister the more forwhat he could not understand. 

"I wish I knew some way of making money faster, " said Katie to herbrothers soon after; "a great deal, I mean. Mother wants any quantity ofthings--blankets, and kitchen utensils, and table things, and she hasn'ta bonnet fit to go to church in. It takes about all we can make to feedus all, and if there is any left she always uses it to buy things for usinstead of thinking about herself. "

"I wonder how it is mothers never think of themselves, " said Alfred. "They are always fussing to make us happy, and we don't do things forthem at all. "

Katie thought of the words:--

 "As one whom his mother comforteth, "

which had been in last Sunday's lesson, but did not say them aloud, onlyit was a comfort to her to think of the other holy words which say of amother and her child: "She may forget, yet will not I forget thee. " Nomatter how much a mother may love, God loves us better still. 

One day about that time, Bertie Sanderson, following her usual customof looking around the room instead of at her work, saw something thatcaused her to start, open her eyes very wide, and then mutterhalf-aloud:--

"Oho! the saints are not so saintly after all. It's dishonest to lookaround the room, is it? I wonder what you call that!"

"Bertie Sanderson, talking, as usual, " said Miss Peters, marking thefine upon the slate which she always carried with her, " and KatieRobertson, too, " noting a sudden flush upon the face of the latter. "I _am_ surprised. "

"I did not speak, " said Katie, respectfully, but with some confusion. 

"There's no harm in talking to yourself, " said Bertie, in the rude tonewhich she usually addressed to Miss Peters. 

"Were not those girls talking, Gretchen, " said the superintendent, appealing to a stout German who worked near the others. 

"No, ma'am, I believe not; at least, Katie wasn't. I heard Bertie saysomething, but Katie did not answer, but"--

"Never mind, " said Miss Peters, who had got all she wanted, --a chanceto fine Bertie whom she hated, --"attend to your work, " and she passedon, never noticing the hand which Katie, having hastily thrust it intoher pocket, continued to hold there. 

The work proceeded in silence, and, as Katie went home at four o'clockas usual, Bertie did not have an opportunity to speak to her about thestrange thing she had noticed. She did, however, say to Gretchen, asthey separated: "Did you see that?"

"What?" said the German, innocently. 

"Oh! nothing, if you did not see it. " Bertie was going to tell hercompanion what she had seen, but on second thoughts decided to keep herdiscovery to herself, that she might have more power over the "saint, "whom she was beginning to absolutely hate. 

But Gretchen had seen exactly what Bertie had, only she did not think ither business, and as it was not, did not choose to speak about it, but, German fashion, went about her own business. 

What had the two girls seen? What was it that made Katie Robertson'sface such a study as she walked home at a much slower pace than was herwont? What was it that lay in the depth of her pocket, where her handrested for greater security. What did she put away in the drawer thatcontained her treasures, going directly to her room for the purpose, instead of rushing first of all to the sitting-room to see if her motherwere at home. 

Only a crisp fifty-dollar bill! Katie had never seen so much money atonce before. How beautiful it looked; how much it represented of comfortand luxury; how many things it would buy that she knew were wanted byher mother and the boys! She deposited her treasure carefully at thebottom of a little pearl box which had been her mother's, and was theonly really pretty thing which she possessed, and then went downstairsto lie on the sofa, think about and plan for spending it. 

Where had Katie suddenly got so much money? and why did she so earnestlydesire to keep the possession of it a secret? She _thought_ the answerto the latter question lay in her desire to surprise her mother, and wasnot at all conscious of another feeling that lay as yet quite dormantand unaroused. As to the former, that is easily answered. After cuttingoff the buttons of an old vest, just as the little girl was preparing tocut it in smaller pieces, the pocket opened, and out fluttered acrumpled paper, which on being opened proved to be a fifty-dollar bill. Some careless gentleman, no one could tell whom, no one could tell when, had stuffed it into the pocket and forgotten all about it. Strange thatthe vest should have gone through all the vicissitudes common to oldclothes, worn possibly by a beggar, condemned to a dust-heap, fishedout, sorted, sold, packed, sold again, and transported to the factory, passing through a dozen hands, to any one of whose owners the moneywould have been so useful, and there it had lain unnoticed till itfluttered out into the very hands of Katie Robertson, who needed it somuch. 

What castles in the air the little girl built as she lay there in thetwilight!--dresses and bonnets for her mother; new suits for each of theboys; a new tea-set, with table-cloth and napkins. Never in the worlddid a fifty-dollar bill buy half so much in reality as this one did inimagination; which, by the way, is a very pleasant way of spendingmoney, since it does not at all diminish the amount, which may be allspent over and over again in a variety of ways. But strangely enough, while everything needed by the others, even to a new ribbon to tie roundpussy's neck, was remembered, Katie's catalogue of articles to be boughtcontained nothing in the world for herself. 

CHAPTER VII. 

STRIFE AND VICTORY. 

No thought had as yet suggested itself to Katie concerning her right tothe money which had thus come into her possession, and as she lay thereplanning the things she was going to get with it, she enjoyed to thefull the dignity of ownership. How glad her mother would be when therewas a decent water-pail in the house, plates enough of one kind to goround, and a table-cloth that was not nearly all darns! Then her mothershould have a new shawl and bonnet, and each of the boys a straw hat anda bright necktie, and she would have something to put in the plate everySunday in church, and to add to the missionary collection of theSunday-school class. Perhaps, even, she could give something toward apresent that the girls were talking of giving to Miss Eunice. 

But just then an idea, so painful that at first she turned away fromit, struck her, and a question that she did not want to answer suggesteditself to her mind. Had she a right to keep the money? Was it reallyhers? Of course it was, said inclination; whose else could it be? Shehad _found_ it, no one else; if she had not picked it up it would havegone in with the rags to be boiled and ground up into paper again, or itmight have been swept away among the dust and waste paper, and no onebeen the better or wiser. "Findings is keepings" was a familiarschool-boy proverb; was it the right principle or not?

Katie tried to persuade herself that it was. Nevertheless, she was gladthat, as she supposed, no one had seen her find the bill, and that hermother as yet knew nothing about the finding. Also, she did not plan outany more ways of spending the money. 

Katie was so silent all teatime that her brothers continually ralliedher upon her preoccupation, and her mother, fearing she must be sick, sent her to bed very early. To this the little girl did not object, asshe wanted to be alone to think over the question that was soperplexing her brain. 

Before getting into bed, our young friend opened her drawer, took outthe box, gazed lovingly at the bill for a time, then put it away, andknelt to say her evening prayer. What was the matter to-night? Foralmost the first time since she had known what prayer really was, shecould not pray. Her thoughts would not be controlled; they keptwandering away to the finding of that bill. She wondered whether any onehad seen her find it, what use she should put it to, and if it werereally hers after all. She knew it was wrong to think of other things atsuch a solemn moment, and felt guilty and condemned. Her consciencetroubled her; it seemed as though God were angry with her. So far thefinding of the money had not been a very happy event for its finder. Itoften happens that secular things, the things we are interested in inour daily lives, will come in between us and our prayers, and we cannotget rid of them. Young Christians especially are greatly troubled inthis way, and have many weary fights in the attempt to control theirthoughts. They have an idea that prayer is such a sacred thing, and Godis so holy, that they must only talk to him about religion, and usepretty much the same words which they hear in church, and when theycannot do this, they either fall into the habit of _saying_ such wordsformally without in the least thinking of their meaning, or else theyare wretched and self-condemned because of what are called "distractionsin prayer. " But there is a more excellent way, even to take all thethings that really interest us directly to "our Father which art inheaven, " and tell him all about them. He encourages us to do so when hesays, "casting _all_ your care upon him, " and "in everything by prayerand supplication make your requests known unto God. " If we are reallyhis children we may be sure that nothing is too small to interest himwhich _rightfully_ interests us, and if it is not a right interest thereis no surer way of finding that out, and gaining the victory over it, than by bringing it to the light of his Holy Spirit and asking him forstrength to dispose of it as we ought. 

Had Katie thus taken the money which she had found directly to theLord, she would soon have understood all her duty concerning it. Herdesire would have been only to do his will, and she would have gone tosleep as peacefully as a little child who trusts its mother to managefor it just as she sees to be for the best. But this she did not dare todo, partly because she had not yet learned to understand how God"careth" for his children in all little things, and partly because downat the bottom of her heart she was not quite ready to do his will--thatis, she _hoped_ that it would be right for her to keep the money, andhoped this so strongly that she could not look fairly on the other sideof the question. Nearly all night--or it seemed so to a little girl whowas generally asleep by the time her head touched the pillow--she laytossing from side to side, troubled by a dozen different sides of thequestion. And when she did get to sleep it was to dream confused dreamsof thieves being taken to prison, and of being one of them herself. 

As soon as it was light, for the long days had come now, the tiredlittle girl sprang from her bed, and dressed herself, in a very unhappyframe of mind. She must decide very soon now, and she began to see moreand more clearly that that money did not belong to her, but to the ownerof the vest in which she had found it. To be sure, she could not nowfind the original owner, but Mr. Mountjoy certainly owned it, because hehad bought the rags. It was one thing, however, to see this, and quiteanother to decide to give up to him who had so much the little that wasso much to her. All the pleasant planning must go with it; all thethings she had desired for her mother and the boys. She was sure she hadnot been selfish; it was not for herself she wanted money at all. Fromforce of habit she opened her Bible and read the first words she saw, which were these: "Thou desirest truth in the inward parts. " And againthe words flashed upon her: "Thou God seest me. "

What did God see? Did he see "truth in the inward part" of her heart?Was she prepared in _all_ her ways to acknowledge him? his right to herand all that was hers?

Then she knelt down and did what she ought to have done the firstthing--told him, who understands and pities us "like as a father pitiethhis children, " all about it, and asked him to forgive, to pity, and todirect her. And now it all came to her, for God always keeps his word, and he has promised to give his Holy Spirit to them that ask him, andfurther that that blessed Spirit when he comes shall "guide us unto alltruth. "

Whoever was the owner of that bill, she was not. It belonged to Godprimarily, but he had given the disposal of it into the hands of him whoowned the rags. If she kept it, at least without telling him that shehad found it, she would be a _thief_! There was but one right way forher, and that was to take it at once to him, tell him where she hadfound it, and leave him to do as he thought best. To her mind there waslittle doubt what he would do. People did not generally give away theirmoney, especially such large sums as fifty dollars seemed to her. Allher air-castles must fall to the dust, and the house must go on with theold things as before. 

Nevertheless, it was with a sense of absolute relief that Katie foldedthat bill away in her little purse, and dropped it far down into herpocket. If the "eyes of the Lord were in every place, " they saw itthere, and they saw, too, into her heart, and saw there that the purposeof doing his will had, by his grace, triumphed over her own desires, andthat was enough to make her once more the happy, bright Katie Robertson. 

She was almost late at the mill this morning; had only just time to getto her place as the short whistle sounded, and of course there was notime to speak to Mr. Mountjoy. She commenced her work at once, andcontinued it very diligently, never once looking around at the othergirls, so full was she of her own thoughts. Thus she did not see thesignificant looks which Bertie cast at her from time to time, nor thesigns which she made to some of the other girls who, in their turn, became curious and significant, and lost several pennies in fines, because they could not help asking each other what was the matter. 

Bertie had not exactly told the story as she knew it, but hadinsinuated to one and another that she knew something that nobody elseknew about Katie Robertson; that, if she chose to tell all she knew, people would not think her such a saint; that, for her part, she did notbelieve in saints; when people pretended to be very religious they weresure to be dishonest, etc. Etc. She made such a mystery of her news thatthe girls to whom she had made her half-confidence were worked up to agreat state of excitement, and the others were devoured with curiosityto know what it could all be about. 

But Katie worked quietly on. She had plenty of opportunity to change herdetermination had she desired to do so, and indeed the temptation tokeep the money herself and say nothing about it presented itself againand again to her mind. But now she knew it to be a temptation, and shewas strong to resist, because she had committed herself to One who wasmighty and his strength was made perfect in her weakness. 

As soon as the noon-bell rang and the work-people all poured along thecorridors and out at the open doors, Katie knocked at the office doorand was told to "Come in!" by Mr. James, who happened to be aloneinside. Without a word the girl walked up to his desk and laid the billdown beside him. 

The young man started, stared, and finally said:--

"Where did you get this?"

"I found it in the rags, sir. "

"When?"

"Yesterday afternoon. "

"Why did you bring it to me?"

"Because I think if it belongs to anybody it does to you, it was foundamong your rags. "

"Why did you not bring it to me at once?"

"Because--because I didn't think at first, and I wanted it _so_ much. "

"Did you?" said he, gravely. "You know the Bible says: 'Thou shalt notcovet'?"

Katie started; had she been breaking one of the commandments, after all?Not the one about stealing, of which she had thought, but another. 

"I didn't mean to do that, " said she, in a low voice, "but we do wantthings so much--mother, I mean. We are so poor. "

"Are you?" said the young man, in a sympathizing tone. "Well, you arean honest little girl to bring it to me at all. A great many would nothave done so, and I should have known nothing about it. Didn't you thinkof that?"

"Yes, sir; but God knew it, and that made all the difference. Besides, Idon't think I was quite honest; if I had been, I should have come to youthe first minute, and not thought about keeping it at all. "

"Then you did have a little struggle about it?"

"Oh, yes, sir, I hardly slept all night. I didn't know what to do atfirst, and then I didn't want to do it. "

"But God gave you the victory, " said the young man, reverently. 

"I understand all about that, and how sweet it is to be helped by him, "Katie added. 

"Now, " continued he, "I think he sent you that fifty-dollar billhimself; first to try you, and then that you might help your mother tobuy all those things that you and she are so much in need of. It isn'tmine, for when I pay two cents a pound for old rags I do not buy fiftydollar bills. Take it, and be just as happy with it as a thankful heartcan make you. Good-morning; I must hurry home to dinner. "[1]

A gladder little girl than Katie Robertson it would be hard to find. Thelove of money is said to be the root of all evil, and so money itselfsometimes is, but that is according to how it is gotten and how used. 

This bill would have been a root of bitter evil to the girl had she keptit, in spite of an enlightened conscience, which told her to give it up;and it would have been a root of evil to the young man, had he taken it, as by the letter of the law he had an undoubted right to do, when heknew the little girl needed it so much more than he did. As it was, itwas a seed of joy to both of them. Mr. James went home full of the joywhich is so like to Christ's joy, in having been kind to another at hisown expense; and Katie's heart could hardly hold the glad thankfulness, both to him and to her heavenly Father, that filled it to overflowing, and that was all the gladder because it was rooted in an approvingconscience, at peace with itself and at peace with God. 

The precious piece of paper was displayed to the wondering mother andbrothers at the dinner-table that day. The story, or so much of it asKatie could bring herself to relate, was told, and all enjoyed inanticipation the comforts it was able to procure; but the best thing itaccomplished was to teach its finder where to go in time of perplexityand temptation and in whose strength to be "more than conqueror. "

-----[Footnote 1: 1 This whole occurrence is a positive fact. ]

CHAPTER VIII. 

TEMPLES. 

It was a lovely June Sunday. The seats of Squantown Sunday-school wereeven more crowded than usual; the girls' side looking like a flower-bedin its variety and brilliancy of color. Bertie Sanderson was there inher new silk, --a brilliant cardinal, --looking strangely unsuitable tothe season; Gretchen, the German, in her woolen petticoat and jacket, which she had not been long enough in the country to discard for summerattire; the other girls in spring suits, and Katie Robertson in a lovelypale-blue lawn and a white straw hat trimmed with the same color. It wasthe prettiest costume the little girl had ever possessed, and as it wasall bought with her own earnings she may be pardoned for being very muchpleased with it. And yet it was as simple and inexpensive a summeroutfit as any one could have, and certainly was not fitted to excite thehateful thoughts to which it was giving rise in Bertie's mind--Bertie, clad in her unsuitable finery! This finery had not been the success thatBertie expected. To be sure, it was a silk dress, and the brightestcolor she could procure, but it had been made by the Squantowndressmaker, and entirely lacked the fit and finish of Etta Mountjoy'sdresses, besides being in direct contrast to the delicate, harmoniouscolors which the latter wore--a contrast which her admirer and would-beimitator was quick to perceive when her own brilliant coloring had beenselected and it was too late to change. The disappointment made hercross, and inclined her still more to look for flaws in Katie, whom shebegan to hate as natures not sanctified by the grace of God are apt tohate those who are trying to do his will, and are thus a constant rebuketo them. 

"Just look at her finery, " said Bertie to her nearest neighbor, as Katieentered, looking as fresh and sweet as a June rose, "and her mother sopoor. I could tell a story about how she got it that would make MissEtta open her eyes, and Miss Eunice, too, for all she makes such a petof the saint. "

"What in the world do you mean?" said the other; but Bertie shook herhead and looked mysterious, of course thus exciting the curiosity of theother tenfold. 

"Do tell me, " she said. 

"We know what we do know, don't we?" said Bertie, provokingly, appealingto Gretchen, who nodded, but did not speak. 

"Now, you're real mean, " said the other, one Amelia Porter by name. "Iknow something I won't tell you, that's all. "

Just then the bell tapped for silence, and the rest of the conversationwas carried on in whispers, the only part which was heard being Amelia'sastonished "Stole it? You don't say so! I never would have thought ofsuch a thing. "

But Katie did not hear. She was not thinking about her dress at all. Thelesson was to her a very interesting one--the oft-repeated story of thetongues of fire that came down upon the early church, symbolizing themighty power of the Holy Spirit to enkindle divine emotions, enthusiasm, and praise, and to make human tongues as flames of fire. 

Miss Etta explained (for she had taken pains to study it up) how, inthe early, times one Sunday in June was observed in commemoration ofthis descent of the Holy Ghost, and how, on that day, the newChristians, who of course were originally heathen, having been at firstsubjected to a long course of training, were baptized. They were called_catechumens_, because they were catechised or questioned, and_candidates_ because they wore long white robes, _candidus_ being theLatin word for white, and by degrees the day came to be calledWhitsunday. Furthermore, Miss Etta told all about the Whitsuntidefestivals of old English times in the days of the corrupt church, whenfestivities of the most riotous kind took place on the two daysfollowing Sunday; and the girls left the school, if not impressed by theholy teachings of the lessons, very full of a certain knowledge of thatkind which St. Paul says "puffeth up, " and prepared to pass a brilliantexamination on the history and customs of Whitsuntide. 

Very different was the pastor's sermon of that morning, which several ofour girls remembered all their lives. Its text was:--

 "Ye are the temples of the Holy Ghost. "

And the speaker showed first what the temples of old times were; notplaces of meeting, as our churches to a great extent are, butdwelling-places, homes where God, or rather "the gods, " were supposed to_live_. This idea was the one used as an illustration by St. Paul in thetext, which means that _God_ has made all human hearts to be his homeand dwelling-place, and that if we will let him, not barring the doorswith sin and filling up the inside with other things, he will live therealways; or, as our Lord Jesus says: "If any man will open unto me, Iwill come in unto him and will sup with him;" and in another place, "will abide with him. " Then he explained so that the youngest of hisaudience could understand what are the sins that bar the door againstour blessed Saviour, and how we set up idols upon the altars of God'stemple, by worshiping dress, vanity, pride, revenge, worldliness, andour own way, and showed how nobody can really worship God and have himabiding in his holy temple who yields obedience to anything or cares foranything more than his will. He said it was an awful thing to _defile_the temple of God by such things as drinking, smoking, and swearing, oreven by evil thoughts and dishonest intentions, by selfish motives andunkindness in word or deed. 

He closed his sermon in these words:--

"My hearers, every one of you is a temple of the Holy Ghost, built andfashioned with exquisite skill, for his own chosen dwelling-place. Seeto it that ye defile not this temple, and if it be in any wise alreadydefiled, from without or within, at once seek the double cleansing, which flows from the Cross on Calvary, that thus your sacred temple maybe washed whiter than snow. Dethrone the idol _Self_ which has so longusurped the place of God upon its altar, and let him rule alone. Andremember that every other human soul is likewise a sacred temple, nomatter how defiled and degraded it has become by yielding itselfwillingly to the dominion of sin. Strive to do all that in you lies, bykind, persuasive words, by example and effort, to cleanse the degradedand polluted temples, and so do all in your power to exalt the dominionand worship of God in all the human souls which he has made. "

The impression made by this sermon upon its hearers was in accord withthe character and religious development of each. 

James Mountjoy resolved to be more active and energetic in all effortsto improve the condition of his work-people, to raise the fallen, toreclaim the sinful, to set a better example and raise a higher standardof moral excellence, that the human temples over whom he had influencemight be better fitted for the abiding presence of their heavenly Guest. Some of the more thoughtful of his boys resolved that smoking, drinking, and swearing should no longer, even in a slight degree, defile the"temples" entrusted to their keeping. 

Eunice Mountjoy made a more entire consecration of herself than everbefore to God's service, praying that there might be no hidden idols inher temple; that self and self-seeking might be forever cast out, evenas our Lord cast out the money-changers and traffickers from the templeat Jerusalem; that God's will in all things might be hers, and that shemight devote not a part only, but _all_ her time, all her faculties, all her influence to his service in doing good to others, and thus"worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness. "

Katie Robertson felt that she had understood some things to-day as neverbefore. What but the presence of the Holy Spirit in her heart hadenabled her to see the right and strengthened her to do it, and thuscome off victorious over temptation? She remembered how the Holy Ghostis symbolized by a pure white dove, and she longed that her templeshould also be a soft, white nest full of pure desires and kindlythoughts, and that nothing she might do or say in her daily life, amongher companions or at home, should grieve that blessed heavenlyinhabitant. 

Even Bertie Sanderson had been struck with the sermon. If her heart wasindeed a temple of the Holy Ghost, how was she defiling it? Envy, hatred, and malice were allowed to run riot there; love of dress andvanity were the idols enthroned on the altar; pride, disobedience, irreverence, contempt of rightful authority, idleness, andunfaithfulness were barring the door and keeping the loving Saviour, who stood knocking there, from coming into his own. 

Bertie felt uncomfortable; the Holy Spirit was speaking to her, and shecould not help but hear. But to hear and to obey are two very differentthings. The girl knew that she could unbar the closed door of her heartif she chose. One earnest, sincere prayer would bring the omnipotent aidof the Spirit to cast out the evil things and cleanse the defilement. But she did not _want_ them cast out; she loved them too well. It wouldbe all very well to have Christ's love, pity, forgiveness, andprotection, and to be sure of heaven when she died; but to be aChristian--a saint she would have called it--now, to give up the thingsthat most interested her, and live a life of self-denial andobedience, --she had no idea of doing any such thing. So, to drown thevoice that she could not help hearing but did not mean to obey, she wentoff on a Sunday afternoon's excursion with some of the boys and girls, received a sharp reprimand from her father for so doing, and went backto her work on Monday morning more rebellious, more hardened, more idle, more malicious than before. 

The blessed Holy Spirit is always longing to have us come to Christ andwalk in his holy and happy ways. He watches for an opportunity to speakto us, and does speak, again and again, inclining us to give up sin andchoose holiness, offering us, if we will do so, all the help we need. But he will not _force_ us to obey his gentle call. If we _will_ notlisten and obey, he lets us go off on our self-chosen path, ceases tospeak audibly to us, and patiently waits for another and more propitiousseason. Bertie Sanderson, that June Sunday, greatly "grieved theSpirit. "

But not so did Etta Mountjoy. This young lady, ever since that firstWednesday when she attended her sister's tea-party, had thought moreseriously than she had ever thought before. The duty of being aChristian had come home to her during Eunice's talk and prayer, and atthe same time she had felt that she was not, and had never tried to be, one. She had seen this still more clearly during the subsequentmeetings, from which her duty to her own class would not permit her tobe absent. Dishonesty and hypocrisy were not Etta's vices; she couldnot pretend to be what she was not, and yet she could not shake off theimpression that she _ought_ to give herself to Christ and openly confesshis name. She tried to put the subject out of her thoughts; but still, as she listened, day by day, she grew more and more dissatisfied withherself, her own character, her aims in life. The preparation of herSunday-school lessons became a dreaded task, for it was impossible tominutely consider the shells of sacred things and not at the same timetake cognizance of the spiritual kernels which they envelop, and thesespiritual realities made her uncomfortable and more and moredissatisfied with herself. 

This Sunday's sermon had gone to the very quick of Etta's conscience, painting as with a finger of light what she ought to be and what shewas. God had made her for his own temple and dwelling-place; made herfair, outside and within; endowed her with intellectual and spiritualgifts, and with wealth, station, and influence, giving her opportunitiesfor culture and usefulness far greater than most of those who surroundedher. It was not chance or accident, but God, who had given her allthis, and he demanded, as he had a right to demand, in return, her love, her obedience, her service. Had she given him these? Never once in herwhole life. She had set up upon his altar in the midst of his beautifultemple the idol of self-pleasing, and never in her whole seventeen yearshad she acted from any other motive than to please herself. It wassacrilege, it was idolatry, it was dishonesty; and so were all theactions which had come from such a corrupt source. 

Etta was too clear-headed to suppose that any sudden change of practice, which it was in her power to commence now, would make any difference. She might obey mechanically, but she could not _make_ herself _love_, and she did not love, God. His service was a weariness, prayer aformality, the Bible a dull, uninteresting book. She did love a light, gay, frivolous life; she saw no attractiveness in one of self-denial andholy living. 

She went directly to her room on reaching home, refused to go down todinner, sat behind the shaded blinds, and thought till thought becameinsupportable; and then, having come to one settled determination, puton her hat, covered her tear-stained face with a veil, and walked downthe hill to the parsonage, and rang the bell with a nervous jerk. Whatever Etta did she did with a will; she made no halfway decisions. 

The servant who admitted "Miss Etta" showed her into the pastor's study, where after a time he joined her, looking a little surprised atreceiving such a visitor on Sunday afternoon. Etta's peculiarities, however, were well known, and he concluded she had some new project inher head, in which she desired his assistance and, as usual, could notwait a moment to put it into execution. He was rather surprised by thetear-swollen eyes and the resolute expression of face, and aftercourteously welcoming his visitor, waited somewhat impatiently to hearwhat she had to say. 

"I came, " said the girl, with her usual directness, "to ask you to givemy Sunday-school class to some one else. "

"Tired of holding your hand to the plow, and beginning to look backalready, eh?" he said. 

"No, sir, it isn't that; but I am not fit to teach any class; certainlynot such a one as this. I don't myself know what those girls ought tolearn; besides, I'm not a fit character for them to imitate. "

"Not a fit character? What can you mean?"

So far Etta had spoken quite steadily, but now there came a tremor intoher voice, a mist before her eyes, and a choking sensation in herthroat, that would not let her speak. 

He waited a few moments, then said gently: "Try to tell me about it, andI will help you if I can. "

Encouraged by something fatherly in the clergyman's voice, the girl atlast found courage to commence her story; and having broken the ice, herwords came fluently enough, as she tried to make him understand howutterly self-seeking and godless her life and character were; how thetemple that should be God's was barred against him, and filled withidols and idolatry. 

"This must be the Holy Spirit's teachings, " said he, gravely; "for, sofar as I know, you are no worse or more careless than most girls ofyour age. "

But this thought was no comfort to her thoroughly aroused conscience, nor did the minister suppose it would be. He continued:

"Now that you see how bad things are, you are going to change them, areyou not? You will open the barred doors that our blessed Lord wants toenter, and let him henceforth be your one object of worship andobedience, will you not?"

"How can I?" said the astonished girl. "I can't _make_ myself likethings. "

"No; but it is the Holy Ghost who desires to come into his holy temple, and where he comes he brings healing, cleansing, and regenerating power. What we have to do is to let him do his work, not hindering him by ourself-will and disobedience, not even trying to _feel_ as we think weought to feel. "

"But I am not worthy to have him come to me. For seventeen years I havebeen sinning against him and grieving him. Even if I were made right allat once, I could not undo all that. "

"But Jesus can, " he said solemnly. "Have you forgotten the cross, andall that it means? Have you forgotten that he died to bear the penaltyof sin, and that for his sake the worst sinners can be forgiven? We arenone of us worthy to come to him, or, which is the same thing, to havehim come to us; but he is the 'propitiation, sacrifice, and satisfactionfor the sins of the whole world'; it is not what you can do or be, butwhat he has done and is. Believe that he loves you, and died for you, and is your Saviour, and you cannot help loving and trusting him andletting his Spirit do with you as he will. "

Was that all? So simple, so easy, and yet an hour ago it had seemed soimpossible to be a Christian. She did not speak for some minutes; thenshe said:--

"Have I nothing at all to do?"

"A great deal by-and-by; only one thing to-day. "

"And that is?"

"To be sure that you are in earnest, that you are thoroughly ashamed of, and sorry for, the past, really anxious to be delivered from sin andmade holy, and resolutely determined obediently to follow where Godleads the way. "

"I believe I am in earnest, " said she, simply. "Won't you pray for me, sir?"

"Yes, indeed, my child, " said the minister, laying his hand on her head. "God bless you, and make you very happy in his love, and useful in hisservice. "

"You will provide a teacher for my class?" said Etta, as somewhat latershe rose to take her leave. 

"Why, no; unless you are really tired of it. I think you had better goon as you have commenced. "

"I am not fit to be a Sunday-school teacher. "

"I am not fit to be a minister; but God, in his providence, has seen fitto make me one, and so I trust him to give me the strength and wisdom Ineed. If you will do the same, you will become a very successful andefficient Sunday-school teacher; and this is a good way in which toconsecrate your talents and opportunities to his service. Now, good-by;I must prepare for the evening service. Whenever you want help, advice, or sympathy, be sure you come to me. "

Etta went home in a new world of thought and feeling. She seemed toherself scarcely to be the same girl; but in fact she was not thinkingparticularly about herself. God's love in desiring to save sinners, Christ's love in dying for them, the love of the Holy Spirit in beingwilling to come and abide with them, filled all her soul, and she wasnot _trying_ to love this triune God, but loving him with all her might, because she could not help doing so. How strange it is that we go onfrom year to year, trying to be better, trying to feel right, trying tomake ourselves holy, instead of just opening the door of the temple ofour heart and believing that Jesus Christ loves us, and _because_ heloves us will make us all that he wants us to be. 

CHAPTER IX. 

UNDER A CLOUD. 

Meanwhile there were some changes at the mill. Katie Robertson had beenpromoted to the folding-room, which was on the lower floor, and wherethe work was not so heavy, though the payment was much better. She nowreceived seventy-five cents for a regular day's work, and might oftenhave made a dollar if her mother would have allowed her to work a halfor quarter day extra. This promotion came soon after the occurrence ofthe fifty-dollar bill, which, no doubt, had something to do with thehigher place in Mr. James's estimation, which the little girl held inconsequence. He took occasion to inquire of Miss Peters concerning herwork, and heard such a good account of her industry, capability, andfaithfulness that he felt sure she might be trusted with pleasanteroccupation and that which needed greater skill. 

To enable our young readers who have never seen the process ofpaper-making to understand the change in our heroine's surroundings, wewill tell them in a few words how paper is made. 

As, of course, is universally known, rags, straw, old rope, poplar pith, etc. , are the materials used. The best writing-paper is made of linenrags, which are for the most part imported from Germany. For ordinarywriting and printing paper cotton rags are used, while straw and hemp, and even wool, go largely into the construction of manilla and wrappingpaper. The linen rags and the woolen ones are generally sorted out inthe places where they are gathered, at which time the others are allpacked into bales, when, after passing through various hands, they arebrought to the different paper-mills. Here the bales are hoisted to thetop loft of the building, where they are broken and their contentsturned over and over and subjected to a fanning process which removes alarge part of the dust. They are then passed through slides down intothe rag-room, where, as we have seen, they are sorted, cut in pieces, and the buttons taken off. They are cut again, in the next room towhich they are carried, by a revolving cylinder whose surface is coveredwith short, sharp knives, acting on each other much like the blades ofscissors. From here they are passed into the interior of a long, horizontal, copper boiler containing a solution of soda and some otherchemical substances, and boiled for several days, at the end of whichtime, the dirt being thoroughly loosened, the boiling mass is passedthrough a long slide into vats, through which a constant stream of wateris flowing, and so thoroughly washed that it becomes as white as snowand looks like raw, white cotton. It is then taken into another room, packed into a "Jordan engine, " and ground into an almost impalpablepulp. This pulp is passed into other vats thoroughly mixed with water, blueing, and some other substances calculated to give it a hard finish, and then conveyed by pipes to the drying-room, where it is distributedover the surface of fine wire netting stretched on cylinders and lookingmuch like "skim milk. " It is now passed from cylinder to cylinder, dropping the water with which it is mixed as it goes, and graduallytaking, more and more, the consistency of paper. At one stage--if it isto be writing-paper, which was chiefly manufactured at SquantownMills--a certain amount of glue is poured upon it by means of littletubes which are over the cylinders, and this gradually becomes pressedinto the fibre, giving the paper the shining surface to which we areaccustomed. This is called _sizing_. At another stage the wire nettingis changed for a blanket which passes over the cylinders and keeps theweak, wet paper from friction, as well as from any chance of breaking. Steam is now introduced into the cylinders, and the drying process goeson so rapidly that, at the end of the long room, the pulp issues frombetween the two last cylinders in sheets of firm, dry, white paper, which are cut off in lengths by stationary knives, and caught and laidin place by two boys or girls who sit at a table just below. So completeand perfect is the machinery that, in addition to the two boys, only oneman is needed in the room, and he only to watch lest either of themachines gets out of order, or lest the paper should accidentally break. 

It is quite fascinating to watch the thin pulp as it gradually becomesstrong paper, and Katie one day overheard a gentleman visitor, to whomMr. James was explaining the process, say something that she neverforgot:--

"It makes me think of God's way of dealing with human souls. He takesthem, polluted and sinful, from the gutters and the slums of life, cutsand fashions them till they are in a condition to be used; then washesout their stains by his precious blood, grinds, moulds, dissolves, andmanipulates them, till they come out pure, innocent, white paper, onwhich he can write just what he pleases. "

"Yes, " said Mr. James. "I have often thought out that analogy, but youhave not yet seen the whole process. No saint is completed till he hasgone through the polishing and finishing of his life and character. Youwill see how we polish and finish our paper in the next room. "

In the next room were great steel rollers, at each of which two womenwere employed, as this work was generally considered too hard andsteady, as well as too particular, for the girls and boys. One of thesewomen places a sheet of paper between the rollers at the top; the engineturns them, carrying the paper round and round between them, and theother woman takes it out at the bottom, beautifully polished by thepressure. 

It is then carried in great piles to the ruling-machines, which stand atthe other end of the room, and there other girls and women act as"feeders" and "tenders. " The sheets are carried under upright, stationary pens, filled with blue or red ink, and ruled first on oneside and then on the other, the machine never letting go of the sheetstill the ruling is perfectly dry. 

The paper is now finished, but it must be prepared for being taken awayand sold; so great piles of it are placed on barrows, and it is carriedby the "lift" down to the lowest room of all, called the "folding-room, "and this is a very gay, busy scene. 

Multitudes of girls are at work here, and everything is so clean that nochecked aprons or mob-caps are needed. Some of them count out the paper, first into quires, and then into reams and half-reams. Others fold thesheets with an evenness and rapidity that only long practice can give;others, again, stamp each sheet in the corner with a die; and stillothers fold the reams--after they have been pressed together--into thepretty, colored wrappers prepared for them, sealing them with wax, andputting the packages, two together, into heavy brown papers, which areclosed with the label peculiar to the special brand of paper. 

There was plenty of work for everybody, and there was, moreover, avariety, and Katie felt very much elated at her promotion when she firstcame into the gay, pleasant folding-room. 

But the poor girl was destined to meet with a very bitterdisappointment. Perhaps the most severe trial of her life awaited her inthat pleasant room. She had only been there a few days when she becameaware that she was looked upon with suspicion. The superintendentwatched her closely, and carefully verified the accounts she gave of herwork. The girls with whom she tried to make acquaintance turned away, and either answered her in monosyllables or else declined speaking atall, and often when she came in suddenly before work had commenced twoor three who were mysteriously whispering together would suddenly stopand look curiously and strangely at her. Once or twice she overheardsome disconnected words, of which the following are specimens: "What wasit really?"--"You don't say so!"--"Dishonesty!"--"I never should havethought it!"--"Are you sure?"--"Bertie Sanderson!"--"She saw itherself, " etc. Etc. Katie, having no key to these disjointed sentences, could make nothing of them, but she felt that she was what school boyscall "sent to Coventry, " and had not the least idea why. 

The fact was that Bertie, whose jealous dislike was greatly increased byKatie's promotion, while she herself remained in the rag-room, haduttered her innuendoes to all who would listen to her, till it waspretty generally understood throughout the mill that Katie Robertson wasa thief, who appeared in unbecoming finery bought with ill-gotten gains. The rumor never took sufficient definiteness of shape to reach the girlso that she could confute it and explain its origin. Of course, she wasnot likely to tell any one in the mill about the finding of thefifty-dollar bill and what had passed between Mr. James Mountjoy andherself, since it was largely to her own credit, nor had he ever thoughtof mentioning it, for a somewhat similar reason. So the report traveledfrom one mouth to another, losing nothing in its passage, and poor Katiewas obliged to endure the general avoidance and reprobation as best shemight. It was a hard trial and one in which she had no one to sympathizewith her, for Mrs. Robertson's gloomy disposition inclined her childrento keep from her anything that might add to her unhappiness, and somehowshe did not feel like making confidants of the boys. But hard as thetrial seemed in the passing, it was, in the end, good for our heroine, for it drove her to the only Friend who knew all about it, who knew thatshe was innocent of the charge, whatever it might be, and pitied andloved her, whoever else might cast her out. The things which drive usclose to Him, no matter how hard they seem, are really blessings indisguise. Katie had now but one friend in the mill, a slight, palegirl, who stood by the folding-table next to herself. She had only justcome to the mill, was intimate with no one, and, so far, had not heardthe story, whatever it was, about Katie Robertson. Her name was Tessa. Her father, who had been a traveling organ-grinder, was taken sick anddied very suddenly at Squantown. His little dark-eyed girl, whoaccompanied him, was left perfectly destitute and in a most desolatecondition. She was at first taken care of in the poor-house, but as shegrew older, and it was thought best that she should do something for herown support, Mr. Mountjoy had been appealed to, and had given her aplace in the mill. Not in the rag-room, however, for she had such adelicate constitution that it was supposed she never could stand thedust. Her work consisted in pasting the fancy paper over the edges oflittle "pads, " intended for doctors' use in writing their prescriptions, and when she was tired she was allowed to have a seat. She could notmake much, but what she did receive sufficed to pay for her room in thefactory boarding-house, and Tessa was as happy as she could be withouther father. 

The Italian girl had conceived a strong admiration for our brightlittle Katie, and by degrees the two girls became great friends. Tessa'slove was the silver lining to the cloud under whose shadow her companionlived. 

But the heaviest part of the cloud was that the story reached Miss Etta. She had noticed the general avoidance of Katie by the other girls in herclass, and was very much at a loss to account for it, for to her thisscholar had always seemed the best and brightest of them all, and shecould see no change in her reverent, attentive behavior, her carefullyprepared lessons, and her evident understanding and enjoyment of thespiritual truths which they contained. This latter point she couldappreciate better than before, and she often shrank in humility fromattempting to teach Katie anything, feeling herself better fitted to bethe pupil. But the girls evidently did not feel so. What could be thematter?

One day, when all had left the Sunday-school, except Bertie, she stoppedher and asked her directly why neither she nor the other girls werewilling to sit next to Katie Robertson, and why they all looked at herso significantly when she came in or went out. 

Bertie flushed, whether with joy or shame it would have been hard tosay, and at first would not answer; but on her teacher's insisting, saidthat she didn't want to tell tales, etc. 

The young lady saw that nevertheless her scholar was running over withher secret and longing for an opportunity to divulge it, and, had shebeen a little older and more experienced, she would not have given herthe opportunity. But Etta was very curious, and, moreover, thought shehad a right to know all that concerned her Sunday scholars, so shewaited until her patience was rewarded by the whole story--that is, theversion of it that Bertie's vindictive fancy chose to give. 

She learned that Katie had been seen by two of the girls in the mill to_steal_ a large sum of money, which she had appropriated to the use ofherself and family; that by degrees one after another had heard of it, and that of course honest girls who had their own way to make did notlike to associate with a thief. 

On being asked who the girls were that had seen the action, and whythey had not at once given information concerning it, Bertie declined togive any answer to the first part of her question, and professed entireignorance concerning the latter; only she said: "All the girls knew, andof course couldn't associate with a sly thief, especially when she gaveherself the airs of a saint. "

Etta was very much troubled. She could not believe such a story of herbest pupil, and yet how could she contradict it? Without names andparticulars she did not know how to set about investigating the truth;nor did she like to ask any one's advice, and thus cast suspicion uponthe child. 

CHAPTER X. 

NOVEL-READING. 

"What makes you so tired to-day, Tessa?" said Katie, one morning when the"rules" allowed the girls to speak. 

"I don't know; I always do feel so in the mornings. It's awfully hard toget up. Don't you find it so?"

"I did at first, but I am getting used to it now. By the time I amdressed I am wide-awake and fit for anything. I don't see why you shouldfeel so; I am afraid you're sick. "

"Oh, no; only stupid and sleepy; I'll wake up by-and-by, " and Tessa drewfrom her pocket a thin, square volume which was tightly rolled up. Thenoon-whistles sounded just then, and Katie saw her companion curlherself up on a box in the corner and at once lose herself in her book. 

She still sat there when her friend returned, rosy and refreshed afterher warm dinner and two brisk walks, and, as there were still a fewmoments before work must be resumed, the latter walked across the roomand playfully took the book from the other's hand. 

"Don't! oh, please, don't!" said Tessa. "Time's most up, and I _must_know what became of Sir Reginald!"

"You _must_ eat your lunch. Look, here it lies untasted beside you. Tessa, you will certainly be sick if you go on in this way. "

But Tessa did not listen; she had again firmly grasped the book, and wasgreedily devouring its contents quite dead to outside things, till, thebell ringing, Katie jogged her shoulder, and she walked slowly across tothe table where both girls worked, her eyes still upon her book. Thereshe set it up, still open, against a pile of packages of paper, and allthe afternoon kept casting furtive glances at it, often letting her workdrop and her hands hang idle, while she followed the fortunes of thefascinating Sir Reginald. 

Katie was in an agony; she loved Tessa, and did not want her to get intotrouble, as she would certainly do if her proceedings should be observedby the overseer. Besides, was it honest thus to use time paid for by anemployer?

But she had no chance to speak to her companion, for as usual shefinished her work and went home, and whether her companion received areprimand from the overseer for not having completed her daily task shedid not know. Probably she did not, for it was an understood thing thatTessa was not so strong as the other girls, and therefore so much mustnot be expected of her. 

The next day it was the same thing. Tessa looked tired out before theday's work began, and well she might, for she had sat up nearly allnight to dispose of Sir Reginald, and now "The Fair Barmaid" had takenhis place. Again the girl went without the uninviting lunch she hadbrought from her boarding-house, and again, as before, the fascinatingnovel divided her attention with her work. This afternoon she wasdetected by the overseer, who spoke a few words of reprimand and orderedher to put the book away, which she did unwillingly and with heightenedcolor. It came out again, however, the moment the closing-bell rang;and, to make up for lost time, was assiduously read during the homewardwalk, and took the place of both supper and sleep till almost daylightthe next morning. 

Poor Tessa! she had inherited from her ancestry that love of romance andadventure which, in their own sunny land, makes the Italians rival theOrientals in their love of hearing and telling stories. The morethrilling these stories are, the fuller of passion and crime, the betterthey seem to suit the tastes of these fervid and excitable natures. Andshe was alone; there was no one to counsel her, no one to love her, noone even to talk to in the long evenings she must of necessity spend inher bare room at the factory boarding-house, hot and stifling in summer, cold and bare in winter. She had been taught to read at the poor-houseschool and a stray dime novel happening to fall in her way, herimagination, waiting for something on which to feed itself, seized uponthe unhealthful food, and gratified taste quickly ripened intoinsatiable appetite. The girl read everything she could lay hold of, andthere is always plenty of such literature close at hand and ready to bedevoured. Novels at five cents apiece are sold by the million at countrystores, railway-depots, and news-stations. Ephemeral in their nature, every one who owns them is ready to lend, give, or throw them away, andwhen books fail there are always quantities of "story-papers, " full ofthe wildest, most improbable, and often vicious tales. 

Tessa bought when she had any spare pennies, borrowed and begged whenshe had not; read by daylight, and twilight, and lamplight, sitting upas long as the miserable boarding-house lamps would hold out, and becameso immersed in her world of romance as to become almost oblivious tooutward things. 

To do the little girl justice, she was too innocent to understand halfthe wickedness which in this way was brought before her notice, but nonethe less was she being gradually demoralized by this evil habit. Herappetite failed, she scarcely took any exercise, she became nervous andexcitable to a degree, her work was neglected, and, worse still, she wasbecoming familiarized with ideas, suggestions, and thoughts that shouldnever come within the comprehension of pure-minded girls. As to herwork, she was fast losing all interest in, indeed all capacity for, that, and it was whispered among her superiors that but for her utterlyfriendless condition it would be expedient to supply her place in themill with some more profitable work-woman. 

"Miss Eunice, " said Katie, at the next Wednesday afternoon meeting, "isit wicked to read novels?"

"What a wholesale question, " said Miss Eunice. "It is not _wicked_exactly to do a great many things which it would be better on the wholeto let alone--tipping one's chair up on two legs, for instance. "

Katie blushed, righted her chair, and said: "I mean wrong; is it wrongto read novels?"

"Not all novels, certainly; that is, not all _fiction_. The best writersof our day throw their thoughts into that form, and our knowledge ofhistory, philosophy, science, and character comes largely from thissource. Our Saviour sanctified fiction by giving his highest and deepestlessons to his disciples in parables. If you mean that kind of novels, read in moderation, I should decidedly say no. "

"She means dime novels, " said one of the girls. 

"Oh, 'Headless Horsemen' and 'Midnight Mysteries, ' fascinating maidenscarried off by desperate ruffians. I am thankful to say that I have nopersonal acquaintance with that sort of thing; but, girls, let me askyou a few questions. May I?"

"First, let all who read, or ever have read, what are called 'sensationstories' raise their hands. "

A great many hands went up--more than the questioner liked to see. 

"How many find such books help them in their work, make the factory seempleasanter, and themselves more contented?"

Not a hand was raised, and the girl who had spoken before said:--

"I never can work half as well in the morning when I have been readingstories at night. I hate the sight of the factory, and wish I was aprincess, or a splendidly dressed young lady with oceans of gold andjewels, like those in the books. "

"Another question: Do books of this kind help you to pray, make theBible more interesting, and incline you to loving service for theSaviour who has died that you might be saved?"

No one answered. The girls looked both surprised and shocked, and MissEunice continued:--

"On the contrary, I dare say many of you remember times when thethrilling interest of an exciting story has made you utterly forget yourprayers, or at any rate has made church and Sunday-school and the homelyduties of a Christian life seem tame and flat by comparison. Is it notso?"

Many bowed assent. 

"Now for my last question: Would you be willing that your fathers andbrothers or the young men of your acquaintance should read all of thesebooks with you, every passage, and could you, without blushing, readthem aloud to your pastor or to me?"

No answer. 

"There is another aspect of the question, " continued the teacher. "Youremployers pay you a stipulated sum in return for a certain amount ofwork to be done in a certain amount of time. They have a right to expectyou to give your best skill, your closest attention. Do you think it isquite _honest_ either to use a part of that time in reading foolish, useless, or hurtful books, or to come to your work so exhausted andpreoccupied by them as to be unfitted for performing your part of thecontract?"

"I do not desire to coerce you, or even to bind your consciences by anypromise, but I leave you to consider all I have said, and I think if youdo so honestly and prayerfully you will come to the conclusion that foryou who hope you have found your Saviour, --nay, I will say for all, inasmuch as you all ought to be Christians, --the reading of this kind ofbooks and stories is among those works of the flesh and the devil whichyou are called to renounce. "

Katie had got the answer she had asked for, and besides she was wellfurnished with arguments to bring to bear upon Tessa the firstopportunity she should have of talking with her, and that, shedetermined, should be very soon. 

When the girls and their escorts had gone home that evening, the twosisters lingered to talk a little over the question that had sointerested their scholars. It was a new thing for them to have anycommon interest, and Eunice hailed it as a good omen that her sistershould consult with her about anything. Etta had not yet confided to herelder sister her new hopes, purposes, and feelings. She was anindependent girl, who had always thought and acted for herself, andthere had never been anything like sisterly familiarity between theeldest and youngest of the Mountjoys. The distance between them was toogreat, and perhaps the elder, in filling the position of a mother to herlittle sister, had at first assumed a little too much of the authorityof one. She had grown wiser now, and did not attempt to force the younggirl's confidence; but she could not but be conscious of a change. Therewas an increased gentleness of manner and sweetness of tone, athoughtful consideration of others, and deference to her own wisheswhich she had never seen before. Her continuing to attend the Wednesdaymeetings, and her serious attention when there, were good signs; so wasEtta's voluntary attendance at the Sunday evening service, a thing thathad never happened before, and Eunice began to hope that the solemn, earnest realities of life would yet become precious to herlight-hearted, wayward sister. 

This evening they talked over the novel grievance, and the temptationsto which the mill-girls were exposed, and Etta proposed a plan for theirbenefit, which, when matured and digested, besides being supported byMr. Mountjoy's purse and his son's executive ability, eventuated in theconversion of an unused loft in the mill into a library and reading-roomfor the girls and such of their brothers and friends as knew how toappreciate its benefits by behaving like gentlemen. 

The books were chosen with great care, and were the best of their kindto be had--popular science, history, and biography, with a large, a verylarge, proportion of such fiction as had a tendency to elevate andinstruct, while it interested, its readers. The books were not to betaken from the building, except upon rare occasions and under peculiarcircumstances; but the reading-room, which was nicely carpeted, wellwarmed, and furnished with long tables and comfortable chairs, was openduring the noon intermission and for two hours every evening, and goodbehavior was the only condition demanded for enjoying both its socialand literary privileges. The library soon became a very popularinstitution, and the sale and consumption of sensational literaturedecreased proportionally. 

Before separating for the night, Etta said: "Did you notice the girl whoasked the question about novels?"

"Katie Robertson? Yes; I have had my eye on her for a long time. Sheseems the most promising subject of your class. "

"So I have always thought; but I have had a terrible disappointment inher. No one would suppose it, but I have recently heard that she is athief, and that to a large amount. The child, innocent as she looks, hasactually stolen fifty dollars from our mill. "

"That is absolutely impossible! I will not believe it. Who told you so, Etta?"

"One of the class. Bertie Sanderson. She was not at all willing to telltales on her companion, but I questioned her and found it is as I say. She assures me that all the girls know about it, and that two ofthem--she did not give their names--saw the theft. "

"Why did they not inform about it at once?"

"So I asked her; but she did not seem to know, and also declined givingthe names of the two girls. That was a little more honorable than I gaveBertie credit for being. "

"A little more deceitful, possibly, " said Eunice, who had no highopinion of Bertie Sanderson; "yet, if she were herself one of thesegirls, she would, I suppose, have been glad to say so. Where do yousuppose this child found fifty dollars to steal? Money is not kept loosearound the mill, and the girls do not have access to the office. Thereis something we don't know about this, Etta. The subject ought to beinvestigated. Have you spoken to James?"

"No, I don't want to prejudice him against Katie, if she should beinnocent; but I fear that is hardly possible, after what Bertie said. "

"I should be more inclined to suspect Bertie herself. Where do yousuppose she got that flashy silk dress she wears?"

"Isn't it horrid! I wonder those girls don't see how vulgar their cheapfinery is. "

"Perhaps they try to copy their teacher, " ventured the elder sister, whose exquisitely neat style of dress was always remarkable for itsplainness and simplicity when she came in contact with her Sundayscholars. But Etta was not yet sufficiently humbled to take reproof fromthat source, and she abruptly left the room. All the same, however, shethought and prayed a great deal upon the subject, and the next Sundaysurprised her class by appearing before them without an unnecessaryribbon or ornament. 

CHAPTER XI. 

TESSA. 

Katie Robertson remained in the mill that Saturday afternoon, althoughher work had long been completed, till the bell rang for five o'clock, that being the hour for the Saturday dismissal. Then she said toTessa:--

"Come and take a walk with me. There's a full hour before tea, and Idon't believe you've ever seen the Fawn's Leap. Have you?"

"No, " said her companion, "I have never been anywhere in Squantown. Theywould not let us go, in the poor-house, and since I've been in the millI've been too tired after work was over. "

"Are you very tired now?"

"Not so very; I did not sleep much last night. "

"Was it a _very_ interesting story?" said the other, archly. 

"Oh, yes, " said Tessa, becoming at once very much excited; "she, Amanda, I mean, married the most elegant count, and he took her to hiscastle, and she had pearls and diamonds and silks and satins, and neverhad to do a thing all the rest of her life; and only think, Katie, shewas a mill-girl in the beginning, just like us. " The sentence finishedwith a sigh. 

"Would you like a count to come and carry you off to a castle by-and-by, and give you all those things?"

"Oh, indeed, yes; when the light goes out, and I can't read any more Ilie awake thinking about it, and wondering if such a count will evercome along. He might, you know, any day. "

"Does that make the mill seem any pleasanter in the morning?"

"No! no! I hate the mill. It looks so rough and bare, and the girls allseem so common. I feel like crying to have to spend so many hoursthere. "

"And then you can't do your work well. I know just how that feels. MissEunice says it isn't _honest_ to do anything that will unfit us for thework we are paid for doing. "

This was a new definition of dishonesty to Tessa, but she only said:--

"Who's Miss Eunice?"

"Oh, she's the teacher of the Bible-class; the nicest, most splendidlady in the Sunday-school, except, of course, Miss Etta. She's ourteacher, you know, but she's so young she seems just like one ofourselves. "

"Do you go to Sunday-school?" said Tessa opening her eyes. "I thoughtonly little children went. Father said it was so in Italy. "

"But everybody goes here. There's great big girls, quite young women, inMiss Eunice's class. Tessa, " said Katie, struck with a sudden idea, "what do you do with yourself on Sundays?"

"I read, " said the person addressed; "read all day long. I lie on thebed in my room, and forget how hot it is and how lonely, and then whenit gets dark I remember beautiful Italy and cry. "

"What a lonely life, " said Katie, sympathetically. "Why don't you go tochurch?"

"We never went to church, my father and I. He said the church hadruined Italy, and he was not a Catholic any more. "

"But we're not Catholics. Oh, I wish you would come to our church andour Sunday-school! It's just as nice!--there's Miss Etta, and Bertie andGretchen and Cora, and two or three more, and on Wednesday Miss Euniceinvites our class and hers to tea, and reads to us, and we have asociety and work for missions and--oh, it's so nice!" said enthusiasticKatie. 

"Do you go to Sunday-school just to have nice times?" and Tessa openedher black eyes very widely. 

"No, " said her friend, more soberly; "I think I go there to learn moreabout Jesus, and how to love him more and serve him better. Some of ushope to join the church soon. "

Tessa asked some questions that led to a long talk which lasted tillthey had reached the Fawn's Leap, which was a beautiful little waterfallshooting down between two high rocks, from one of which to the other afawn was reputed to have sprung. It was a very lovely spot, and the twogirls threw themselves upon the grass to rest, while the Italian drewlong inspirations of delight. 

"It makes me think of home, " she said; "the old home in Italy. Welived, my father and I, close to a waterfall just like this, among themountains. After my mother died my father did not want to stay there, sohe went to Naples and bought an organ, and we came to America in a bigship, and wandered about, and then"--her voice broke down then and shesaid: "Oh, Katie, I am so lonely! if I only had a home like yours, withpeople in it to talk to and to be kind to me, I should not want to readso many stories. I don't believe they _are_ good for me. " This was inreference to all Miss Eunice's talk about the evils of novel-reading asrepeated by Katie. 

A sudden thought struck the latter. 

"Tessa, " she said, "it must be awfully lonely at your boarding-house inthe evenings and on Sundays. I wish you could come and live with me. Ihave no companions but the boys, and to have you would be justsplendid. "

"Do you think I could? Do you think your mother would let me? Oh, Katie, you can't really mean it!"

Katie had not taken her mother into consideration. Of course, she couldnot be sure of her approbation of such a plan, but she promised to ask, and went on planning how nice it would be--how the two girls could shareKatie's room and bed; how they could go to the mill together. "Andthen, " said she, "you could go to Sunday-school with me, Tessa. "

But here Tessa drew back. She had no clothes, she said, fit to go tochurch in--only her working-dress and the straw hat which she wore everyday to the mill. 

"Go in that. Miss Eunice says God doesn't care what we wear when we goto church. "

"But the girls do, and I care more about them. "

This rather shocked Katie, but she did not see her way out of thedifficulty, and mentally resolved to "ask mother": that way out of alldifficulties which is first to suggest itself to a young girl's mind. 

"There is the sun setting, " said Tessa. --"It must be ever so late. Isha'n't get any supper; they never keep anything for us at ourboarding-house. "

"Oh, yes, you will! you are coming home with me; mother will havesomething ready for both of us. I told her where we were going, and shepromised she would keep our supper for us, no matter how late it was. Besides, it will be a good chance to ask her about our plan. "

So Tessa consented, nothing loth, and when she saw the fair, whitecloth, with the clear glasses and bright, shining china, the delicateslices of white bread, the wild strawberries, and fresh browngingerbread, and contrasted it with the bare table, the stoneware badlychipped, and the great piles of coarse provisions, into which theboarders dipped their own knives, she felt as though she had suddenlygot into paradise. 

Katie had told the home party about her Italian companion, and herapparent friendlessness, and all had taken such an interest in her thatwhen the boys heard their sister ask and receive permission to bring herhome to tea, and their mother's promise to make some soft gingerbread, they resolved to contribute their share toward the festival, and thestrawberries, to gathering which they had devoted their afternoonholiday, were the result. 

It was a very happy tea-party. Katie was in high spirits, her mothergentle and hospitable, the boys courteous and gentlemanly. Tessa hadnever been in such society before, and yet there was in her a nativegrace and refinement--due, perhaps, to the artistic atmosphere in whichshe was born--that prevented her from doing anything rude or awkward, orseeming at all out of place. 

After tea the boys brought out the games, and the visitor showed herselfquick to learn and eager to enjoy. The heavy, half-sorrowful look wentout of her face, which became full of fun as her eyes sparkled anddanced, and she pushed back her long black hair. 

When the clock struck nine Mrs. Robertson said:--

"It is time for young folks who have to get up early to go to bed. Theboys will see you home, dear; but perhaps you would like to stay andhave prayers with us first. "

"Oh, yes, I am sure she would, " said Katie, seeing that her friendseemed not to know how to answer this proposition. So Eric handed hismother the books, and she first read a chapter in the Bible, and thenkneeling down, with her little flock around her, read an evening prayer, commending them all to the love and protection of their heavenly Father. It all seemed very sweet to the visitor, who had never been present atsuch a service before. She could not probably have told how she felt, but a longing desire came over her to stay where everything seemed sonear the gate of heaven, and she said impulsively:--

"Oh, Mrs. Robertson, if you would only keep me always!"

Then Katie said:--

"Mother, why can't Tessa live with us? There's plenty of room for herwith me; and she has nobody belonging to her--nothing but a horrid roomin the factory boarding-house, where nobody cares for her, and she hasto read novels all the evening and all Sunday, and that makes her sick. It would be so nice to have her go to the mill with me every day, and toSunday-school on Sunday--only she hasn't any clothes that are fit, and"--

"My dear, do stop to take your breath, " said the astonished mother, "andlet me get some idea of what you are talking about. Do I understandthat you want Tessa to come and live here? I should much like to haveher do so, my child, but you know--don't think me unkind, Tessa--that weare poor people, and find it hard to fill the four mouths that must befilled. "

"Oh, I didn't mean that, " said the girl, timidly, and turning crimson. "Of course, I wouldn't let you and Katie support me; but I could pay youmy board, just as I do at the boarding-house. I suppose it would bemore, but perhaps I could work harder and earn something extra, as someof the other girls do. "

"How much do you pay now?"

"Two dollars and a half a week. "

"And you have only three dollars! Katie makes five. "

"Yes, I know; she works fast. Perhaps I could if there was anyuse--anything to do it for. I didn't need any money. They gave me myclothes at the workhouse, and I bought books with the otherhalf-dollar. "

Both girls looked very beseechingly at Katie's mother, and Eric, whohad taken a great fancy to the dark-haired girl, added his entreaties;but she said:--

"I can not answer you to-night; I must think about it and pray over it. I will let you know when I have made up my mind. Now you must go home, dear; Eric will go with you. Good-night, and God bless you. "

Tessa felt the kiss that accompanied these words down to the bottom ofher heart. No one had ever kissed her before, so far as she couldremember, except her father, and she longed most ardently to be takeninto this home. 

Katie followed her to the door and whispered: "Tessa, I shall ask God tomake mother decide the way we want her to. You ask him, too. You know itsays in the Bible: 'If any two of you shall agree on earth as touchingany thing that they shall ask, it shall be done for them. '" But Tessa didnot yet understand about "asking God. " She only stared and bid herfriend good-night. 

The next morning as she sat rather disconsolately on the doorstep of theboarding-house, not knowing exactly what to do with herself, for inconsequence of last night's visiting she had neglected to provideherself with a new book, Katie came by and greeted her brightly. Shelooked so sweet and fresh in her simple Sunday dress that it was not tobe wondered at that Tessa, in her soiled mill-clothes, again refused toaccompany her friend to Sunday-school. 

"You shall have my library book, any way. I don't care to get anotherto-day, and mother says you are to come round this afternoon to get heranswer. "

The book was a pleasant story, and though it lacked the species ofmorbid excitement to which the girl had accustomed herself, it filled upthe time agreeably, and gave her a glimpse of a higher, purer plane oflife than any with which she was as yet familiar. Some precious truthsconcerning the love of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the happiness ofserving him, were woven into it, and served as the indestructible seedswhich were yet to ripen in the girl's spiritual life. At about fouro'clock she put on her hat, and full of mingled anxiety and hope, madeher way to the corner house which seemed to her so much like heaven. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Robertson had thought the matter over in everydirection. She did not at first like the idea of increasing the homeparty, or of introducing into it any element that might provediscordant. She dreaded to have Katie or the boys come under anyinfluence that might counteract the earnest, religious training she wasendeavoring to give her children. But there seemed to be nothingvicious, or even common, about Tessa; she was sweet and well-mannered, and so friendless and forlorn that it would be a positive charity totake her in. Then, too, the girl had evidently had no religious teachingand was profoundly ignorant about spiritual things. Perhaps this wasmissionary work sent to her very hands. She might at least try it for awhile. The board to be paid would make it possible to do so, and if theplan were not a success, or proved hurtful to her own children, to whomshe owed her first duty, she could but send the girl back to her presentlodgings. 

So, when Tessa came she was told, to her great joy, that her requestwas granted, and she might commence her new life on Monday. A veryserious motherly talk followed, and among other things the new boarderwas obliged to promise never to introduce sensational literature intothe house. 

Mrs. Robertson agreed to take Tessa for two dollars a week, on conditionthat she would assist Katie with the housework before and aftermill-hours. The half-dollar a week thus saved would soon procure asimple Sunday outfit, and enable her to accompany her friend toSunday-school and church. 

Katie, with some of the remains of her precious fifty dollars, insistedon advancing this; and on the first Sunday morning the young Italian, looking very pretty but rather shy, took her place in Miss Etta's class, and was at once enrolled among its members. 

Mrs. Robertson never had cause to regret her kind-hearted decision. Tessa was devotedly attached to Katie, and followed, rather than led, her friend. She was shy with the boys at first, but soon came to showthem the same sisterly feeling that their sister did. Her wit, quickness, and power of story-telling soon made her a valuable additionto the family circle, while the genial home influences and good fare sotold upon herself that her extreme delicacy soon disappeared, and shebecame capable of as much work or endurance as Katie herself. 

CHAPTER XII. 

GRETCHEN. 

German Gretchen was absent from the mill one morning. No one noticed itexcept Miss Peters, who marked her down for one less day's wages. Theyoung girl, who had drifted into the manufacturing town, as so many do, in search of work, had never been a favorite or attracted particularattention. She was a fair work-woman, obeyed rules, and went her way tothe boarding-house when night came; but she made no friends either thereor at the mill, and it would scarcely have been noticed had shedisappeared altogether. Somehow she had floated into Sunday-school, andbeen placed in the class which afterward became Etta Mountjoy's, buthere her apparent stolidity made her perhaps the least interesting ofall the girls. Perhaps this was in part owing to the fact that one isnot likely to be very talkative in a strange language. 

But Gretchen had a heart, although no one in Squantown had yet found, or cared to find, it. It was safe at home in the fatherland, where thehouse-mother and father had as much as they could do to put enough blackbread to support life into the mouths of the five little children, tooyoung to do as she had done, when she accompanied a neighbor's family, who were emigrating to seek their fortune in the New World. Theseneighbors had gone to the far West, and not caring to be burdened with apossibly unproductive member of their party, had left the little girl inthe hands of a German employment agency, through which she had found herway to Squantown Mills. 

Gretchen had many homesick hours when she would have given a great dealmore than she possessed to be at home again sharing the poverty andhardships of the Old World, but she expressed her feelings to no one. Indeed, she knew no one to whom she could have expressed them. She didher day's work faithfully, receiving her regular payment of fifty cents, and occasionally a little more, which little she resolutely put away atthe bottom of her box, to be sent home to her mother and the littleones when there should be a good opportunity. 

But now Gretchen was absent from her work one, two, three, four days. Itwas Miss Peters's duty to report all absentees on Saturday night, andshe did so after the hands had been paid off and gone home. Thebook-keeper noted the absence in his pages, asked if work was sopressing as to make the appointment of a substitute necessary oradvisable, and being answered in the negative quite forgot to inform hisemployer of the girl's absence. 

But when Sunday came, and Gretchen was absent from the place in theclass which she had so regularly occupied, it was a different thing. Etta, among her other activities, had from the first been a good visitorof absentees. Indeed, when her scholars lived with their families, as inthe case of Katie and one or two of the other girls, she had made morevisits and laid down the law more than was quite agreeable in all cases. Now, with her newly awakened sense of responsibility toward the immortalsouls placed under her charge, she had begun to watch over them as onewho must give account of their souls. She had several times thought oflooking up Gretchen, in order to become acquainted with hersurroundings, etc. , but had not yet put her design into execution, andnow the girl's absence from the class gave her teacher the veryopportunity she desired. 

As soon as tea was over, in the long June twilight, Etta put on her hat, and walked down the hill upon which the grand house stood to the valley, in which was the long row of boarding-houses occupied by such of themill-hands as had no homes in the place. It was stiflingly hot downhere, though it had been cool and fresh on the high ground above, andthe young lady, who had not often visited the purlieus of the mill, feltas though she could scarcely breathe, and did not wonder that men sat atthe open windows in their shirtsleeves, and that tired-looking womenseemed gasping for air. The bare wooden buildings, with their long rowsof windows and doors all of the same pattern; the smooth, beaten yards, all just alike; the swarms of children making it seem anything butSunday-like with their noise; the teeming population, which made thetenements resemble ant-hills, and seemed to forbid any idea of privacy, looked very dreadful to her. 

On the other side of the street was a long row of brick cottages, eachinhabited by two or more families, the distinctive sign of each beingthe family pig, kept, for greater convenience, in the front yard, fromwhich odors, not the most choice in their nature, were constantly waftedacross the way. In the doorways of most of these lounged Irishmensmoking and swearing, in some cases in a state of intoxication; for, although the rules of the mill concerning drinking were very strict, andno habitual drinker was ever knowingly engaged in it, it was impossibleto prevent the men from depositing a part of the earnings received everySaturday night in the hands of one or two liquor-dealers whom the lawlicensed to sell death and ruin to their fellow-men. 

How dreadful, thought the young lady, to be compelled to spend one'slife in such wretched surroundings. Is it any wonder that the womenbecome hopeless slatterns, and that the children grow up in vice andsin? How thankful I ought to be to the heavenly Father who hassurrounded me with such different influences! how I wish I might dosomething to raise and elevate these, and give them a few of theblessings of which I have so many!

Etta Mountjoy had grown since that early June Sunday when she hadvisited her pastor in such sorrow and perplexity. She had read and seenand thought more and more of the wonderful love of our heavenly Fatherin surrounding her with so many blessings and in sending his only Son tobe her Saviour and friend. She looked back upon the life ofself-pleasing she had so long led with sorrow amounting to disgust. Howcould she have been so ungrateful? How could she have failed to love Oneso altogether lovely? She was learning now to find pleasure in prayer, and the Bible, which had been to her such a dull book, began to be moreinteresting than any story which she had formerly devoured. And she wastrying, faintly and with many relapses, it is true, to take up herneglected duties, especially those which had been most distasteful toher, and perform them steadily "as unto the Lord. " Out of all this wasspringing up in her a desire to do something for Christ--something whichwould be, if not a return for his favors, at least a token of hergratitude to him. To-night just such an opportunity as she had desiredcame to her hand. 

If Etta had only known it, the dwellings of the operatives at Squantownwere palatial compared to those into which the working-classes arehuddled in cities; for here the many windows opened upon pure fresh airand green fields, the little yards were scrupulously clean, and vinesclambered up the sides of the doors and windows, even to the roofs. Thefare, plain as it was, was not tainted by exposure in a city market, orby being hawked about the city streets, and the price of living was nohigher than the wages received in the mill enabled the people to pay. 

The young teacher had the number of the house at which her scholarboarded written down in her class-book, and at that number she at onceknocked. No one came for some time, but at last repeated raps broughtthe woman who kept the house, and who might perhaps be excused for herwant of greater promptitude on the ground of having so many dishes towash after the boarders' tea. 

In answer to Miss Etta's inquiries the woman answered civilly enough, for it would not do to offend one of "the family, " that Gretchen's roomwas the back garret; that she believed the girl had been sick for a dayor two, but she had not had time to look after her, though she had senther little boy up with her meals. The child couldn't have eaten much, for the tray came down almost as it went up. She had been trying to findtime to go upstairs all day, and was just meaning to do so now that herdishes were done. She would go up now, and let the young lady know howher scholar was. 

"Let me go with you, " said Etta; but the request was only a form, as thegirl usually did just as she pleased without waiting for anybody'spermission, and, indeed, the woman of the house knew no reason why, onthis occasion, she should not follow her own inclination. 

Three flights of stairs were climbed, a long narrow hall, studded withdoors on each side, traversed, and Mrs. Doyle opened one in thesouthwest corner of the house, where, the sun having beaten on thesloping roof all the afternoon, the temperature was something fearful. The room was small, for Mr. Mountjoy had built the boarding-houses, anddesired to try the experiment of each inmate having a separate roominstead of a great many men or women being herded together in opendormitories. It contained simply a cot, a wooden chair, and a table uponwhich stood conveniences for washing and the untasted supper. On the cotlay the German girl, blazing with fever and tossing about in thegreatest discomfort. At first she did not know her visitors, and seemeda little frightened at seeing the room so full. But presently, recognizing her Sunday-school teacher, she grasped her hand and drew herdown to the side of the bed, pointing to her German Bible, in which shehad been trying to study her Sunday-school lesson. 

Etta was touched, and began to think there might be some interest ineven the plain, undemonstrative Gretchen. She bent down to ask her somequestions about her sickness, during which Mrs. Doyle hurried to throwthe one window wide open, and to make the disordered room fit to beseen. 

"The child is very ill, I am afraid, " said Etta, coming across to thewindow and speaking to the woman in very low tones; "don't you thinkso?"

"Yes, I am afraid she is, " said the person addressed, uneasily, forsevere illness in a large, crowded boarding-house is no light matter. She and her children were dependent upon their boarders, and a suddenpanic might empty the house. 

"Can't you send for a doctor, Mrs. Doyle? Papa will gladly pay him, Iknow. "

"Yes; Johnny could run, I suppose, but he'd be sure to tell somebody, and I wouldn't like it to get about till we know what it is, any way. "

"Please go yourself, then. It's after tea, and there isn't much to do. "

"But suppose the girl gets worse, and begins to scream and frightens theboarders. "

"Oh, I '11 stay with her till you come back. I'd rather; I shall be soanxious to hear what the doctor says. Please go, Mrs. Doyle, andhurry. "

Etta Mountjoy had a way with her that could not be resisted by mostpeople, and even Mrs. Doyle, not overgifted with the milk of humankindness, could not refuse her. So she went downstairs, and onlystopping to put on her bonnet and tell her eldest daughter to go on withthe preparations for breakfast, --which always had to be made overnight, --as she was going out for a little while, walked swiftly down thestreet. 

Etta sat on the hard chair by the patient's bed, and for some timewatched the tossing limbs, heavy breathing, and flushed, excited face. She was not used to sickness. Indeed, she had never seen it since hermother died, so long ago that she could not remember the pain and thesuffering, but only the terrible results, which were pale, cold death, the coffin, the funeral, and the grave. 

Did all severe sickness end in death, she wondered? Was this strong, healthy girl about to die? And if so, was she ready? She had neverthought of the possibility of death in connection with any of herscholars. Had she taught them the things which alone could be of valueto them when they came to stand face to face with a holy God? Whatadvantage then would be familiarity with dates, with geography, and withcatechisms? How would they then blame her for not having pointed them tothe Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world? Theresponsibility of undertaking to deal with human souls, upon which shehad so thoughtlessly rushed, now seemed to her something terrible. True, she had not then known or understood anything about it; but, nevertheless, it now seemed to her a great sin, and an earnest prayerfor forgiveness rose up from her heart, accompanied by another for thesalvation of the sick girl before her. 

Meanwhile the moments rolled slowly by: the sick girl tossed and moaned;the church-bells rang for evening service, first merrily, as glad tocall the people to the house of God; then slowly, as loth to stop whileany more stragglers might be induced to come; then with one or two longsobs for those who, in spite of all persuasion and all "long-sufferingpatience, " wilfully stay outside, stopped, and the silence was onlybroken by the shouts of the noisy children below. Even these ceased atlast, and as the sunset glow faded--flame red changing to pale yellow, and that again to cool, sombre gray--the time of waiting seemed to theunskilled watcher well-nigh interminable. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

SHIP-FEVER. 

Presently Gretchen spoke. Her voice was thick, her accent even moreforeign than usual, and at first the listener could not understand thewords. But she put her ear close down to the bed and made out:--

"Miss Etta, am I going to die?"

"I don't know, " said Etta, bewildered; "I hope not. "

"I'm not afraid, " said the German, "but--but it looks all so strangeand dark. You didn't use to tell us about Jesus, and I couldn't rightlyunderstand the minister; but don't it say _here_, " putting her hand uponthe Bible by her side, "that he will save everybody that comes to him?"Her teacher nodded. "Coming to him is asking him, isn't it?" Anothernod. "Then, please, Miss Etta, ask him for me. I can't. I can't seem tothink. Ask him _now_. "

Poor Etta! never in her life had she been so confused. She had onlyjust learned to pray for herself. She had not yet overcome the reticencewhich we all feel concerning our own interest in spiritual thingssufficiently to tell her own sister of her experience and purpose--howcould she bring herself to do this hard thing which her scholar asked ofher? But the scholar had a human soul, and that soul might be very nearto eternity. How could she refuse to do this thing which, by the verynature of her position toward her, the scholar had a right to ask?

Then an idea struck her, and opening her hymn-book, --for she hadexpected to attend the evening service after ascertaining the cause ofher scholar's absence, --she knelt close to the window, and in thefast-fading light read in a tone of reverent supplication the hymncommencing, --

 "Just as I am, without one plea, But that Thy blood was shed for me, And that Thou biddest me come to Thee, Oh, Lamb of God, I come!"

Every word of the hymn was prayer, and Etta felt grateful for this helpin doing what would have otherwise seemed to her impossible. She threwher whole soul into the last line of each verse, and could not but hopethat Gretchen, who lay quite still now, though saying nothing, wasfollowing and saying in her heart, --

 "Oh, Lamb of God, I come!"

After this there was silence and darkness, and Etta continued to kneelwith her face hidden on the window-sill, praying silently that God wouldindeed save this soul, teaching it that which heretofore she had beenunable and unworthy to teach. The effort at obedience to what was soevidently her duty had greatly strengthened the girl; she felt that Godwas with her in the still room, and the glad joy of those who againsttheir own inclinations work for him began to spring up in her soul. 

The doctor and Mrs. Doyle found her thus, and springing to her feet, Etta came over to the bed to hear what the former thought aboutGretchen. 

Judging from Mrs. Doyle's account, the doctor seemed inclined to makelight of the case, until he had made a careful investigation, and thenhe looked very grave, and asked where the patient had come from, andhow long she had been in this country. Hearing that it was nearly a yearsince she crossed the ocean, and that she had worked for eight months inSquantown Paper Mill, he looked still more puzzled, and finallysaid:--

"I really can't account for it, but it certainly is a case ofship-fever; a very bad case, too. "

Mrs. Doyle's consternation was extreme. She muttered something abouthaving her children to care for, shut the door tight, and went hastilydownstairs, leaving the doctor and the delicately bred young girl todecide what was to be done in the situation. 

Doctor Bolen looked at his companion in somewhat quizzical perplexity. Here was a patient dangerously ill with a contagious disorder, at thetop of a house swarming with human beings. She must have care and closewatching, and the only person within reach to give it was a girl whosegay light-heartedness and instability were well known in the town. Hadshe known what to do, she was too young and delicate for such a task. And should she take the infection--what then? Would the wealthymill-owner thus expose his youngest child, and, as every one knew, hisidol?

"I must get hold of some responsible person, " he said at last, aloud, but more to himself than to his companion. "But whom? I don't know of anurse that would come even from the city. Besides, it would cause apanic to do so, and a panic is the most likely thing in the world tocause the infection to spread. Mrs. Doyle, it is clear, is frightenedout of her senses, and she can't be expected to risk her children andher livelihood for a stranger. One of the Irishwomen across the waymight take care of her for money; but then she'd talk, and the wholegang would be frightened. I don't really know which way to turn. " ButEtta answered instantly with the intuitive perception for which she wasnoted:--

"There's Eunice. "

Why had he not thought of it? Eunice Mountjoy, with her calm, cool head, her perfect unselfishness, her entire devotion to the good of others;Eunice, who was known and blessed wherever throughout the village therewas sickness, suffering, or want; Eunice, who had many a time helpedhim out of a perplexity, --Eunice was the very person. But how should heget hold of her?

"I will go, " said Etta, to whom he expressed the wonder. 

"No! You are too young, and at the same time too old, to go through thismanufacturing village alone after dark. "

"Then you go, and I will stay here, for I suppose Gretchen must not beleft alone. "

"Of course not. She may become delirious at any moment, and there is nosaying what she may do. She does not know us now. Would not you beafraid to stay with her?"

"No, " said Etta, steadily. "Tell me just what to do and I will do it. "

"But you might take the infection. Have you thought of that?"

"God will take care of me, " said she, with a rising color; and thedoctor, remembering how he had found her, thought that perhaps he couldnot do better than to leave her under such protection. 

He was gone a long time, a very long time, it seemed to Etta, whosepatient became very restless and needed constantly to be soothed andcoaxed back to bed when she sprang up and insisted--in German--on goingto her mother. Her teacher, at such times, bathed her face with the warmwater the doctor had brought, or gave her a sip of cold water which hadbeen left when the tea-tray was carried away, spoke to her in soothingtones, and finally sang hymns, which seemed to quiet her better thananything else. She had sung all she knew and was commencing the_répertoire_ over again, when a heavy step, followed by a lighter one, came along the passage, and presently Dr. Bolen appeared, followed, notby Eunice, as her sister had expected, but by Katie's mother, Mrs. Robertson! There was no time for questionings. The doctor gave Mrs. Robertson his directions, and then, leaving the patient to her, he tookthe young girl's arm and led her from the room, down the stairs, and outinto the street, where the cool night air seemed wonderfully refreshing. 

"I would not have exposed you thus, " he said, "if there had been anyother way. Do you feel very tired, very much exhausted?"

"Oh, no, " she said bravely, for the air had greatly revived her. "Idon't believe it will hurt me a bit. It's time I learned to do somethingbesides amuse myself, you know. I've never been of much use in the worldyet, but I mean to be. "

"You have great capacities and opportunities for usefulness, " said he, gravely, "but you know none of us is sufficient for these things. "

"I am asking God to help me, " she said in a low tone. "Don't you thinkhe will?"

"No one ever sought his help in vain. I am glad you are setting out inthe right way. All success be with you. Now you must attend to mydirections and obey me exactly. As soon as you get home take off everygarment you have on; throw away or burn up everything that can't bewashed, take a warm bath, and go to sleep as soon as you can, and, remember, you are not to go near my patient again till I give youpermission. Will you promise?"

Then he told her how sensibly Eunice had planned that Mrs. Robertson, who often went out to nurse the sick, should be engaged to take care ofGretchen; that to-morrow a certain empty house belonging to Mr. Mountjoy should be fitted up as a temporary hospital, and the sick girlmoved there that the battle of life and death might be fought wherethere were not crowds of people to take the infection. He also cautionedEtta not to spread a report concerning the nature of Gretchen's disease, as a panic might result which would be not only deleterious to herfather's business interests, but also disastrous to the lives ofmultitudes of the employees of the mill. 

By this time they had reached the door of Etta's home, and Dr. Bolenbade the girl good-night, after reiterating his directions. 

Eunice came to her sister's room that night after she was in bed to seeif the doctor's orders had been complied with. She gave her such acaress as her undemonstrative nature rarely gave way to, and it somehowopened Etta's heart and mouth as well. A long talk followed, and Euniceheard a great deal that made her very happy to hear. Etta begged herpardon for the many times she had refused obedience to one standingtoward her almost in the position of a mother, and promised to be moredocile and helpful for the future. Both felt that the sisterly bondwhich had been so weak between them was linked afresh to-night, and thatthey were now sisters in reality because they were one in Christ. 

The next day Eunice's plan was fully carried out. The vacant house, which had been for some months without a tenant, was swept out andfurnished with a few necessary articles, and Gretchen, now entirelydelirious, was taken there in a close carriage, and Mrs. Robertsonestablished as resident nurse. The good woman fretted and grumbled agood deal at leaving her home and her children, --whom, of course, shecould not see for a long time, --but she _was_ a good woman in spite ofher grumbling. She was a very experienced nurse, and here was servicefor the Master from which she dared not turn away. Katie, assisted byTessa, was fully competent to manage the house and cook what they andthe boys needed to eat, so she resolutely accepted the trust. 

Eunice and Etta went down to the empty house early in the morning, andboth worked hard, with a woman who had been hired to do so, to get therooms in readiness, but when all was prepared, they went home, for Dr. Bolen said there was no use for either to be unnecessarily exposed toinfection. He did not want more patients than were sent him in thenatural course of events. 

Great pains were taken to keep the whole matter quiet. Katie and Tessaand the boys were cautioned not to speak about it, and the removal ofthe patient was effected during the forenoon when all the factory"hands" were safe in the mill. But the precautions were useless. Beforethe next night there were four more patients in the temporary hospital, all from the rag-room, and the consternation was extreme. Many refusedto work, and the mill was in danger of being forced to stop just in themiddle of filling some very important contracts, when the doctor, takinghis own life in his hands, as doctors must, made a thoroughinvestigation of the rag-room, where all the cases had occurred, andfound the contagion to be in a bale of rags imported from Ireland, whichhad not received the usual overhauling before being brought to the mill. These were all collected and burned, and the room thoroughly fumigated, the operatives receiving full wages for the days they were thus shut outfrom work, and one good result of the fever was that henceforth thebales were all opened and smoked in a separate building before they everentered the mill at all. 

The contagion did not spread any farther after this, and the handsreturned without more delay to the mill. Mr. Mountjoy sent to the cityfor an experienced hospital nurse, and promised to pay all the expensesof the illness, in addition to the wages of those who were thusprevented from earning anything. The "hospital" was supplied from thekitchen of the "great house, " and both Eunice and her young sister foundfull occupation in the preparation of dainties and food for the sick. 

The interest in the five sick girls was intense, and when one--a poor, sickly little thing--died, every one felt as though death had come veryclose, and many were compelled to listen to the voice which said:--

 "Prepare to meet thy God. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

GOOD FOR EVIL. 

"Bertie Sanderson has not been in the mill for a week, " said Tessa toKatie, as the two friends walked home together one hot afternoon. "Oneof the rag-room girls said so. I wonder if she has the fever!"

"That's not likely; the girls are all getting better, " said hercompanion. 

"Yes; but she's been absent for more than a week, " persisted Tessa. "Let's go round that way and inquire. "

But Katie, somehow, shrank from this. While she knew nothing withabsolute certainty, she could not help feeling that Bertie was in someway connected with the general avoidance of herself by the girls of theSunday-school class, and the evident suspicion with which both MissEunice and Miss Etta regarded her. What her former companion could havesaid or done, she had no idea; but the sense of an undefined somethinghad made her of late keep as far as possible from Bertie. She was aboutto say with her usual impulsiveness:--

"No; I hate Bertie! Don't let's go near her, " when she remembered allher purposes of doing Tessa good and setting her a Christian example. Isit Christian to cherish a dislike of another because one has reason tosuppose that other has done one an injury? Katie's enlightenedconscience knew it was not. It was not like him who said:--

"Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, and pray for them whichdespitefully use you and persecute you;" and who, by acting in strictaccordance with his own teachings, "left us an example that we shouldfollow in his steps. "

For a few moments the little girl said nothing as she walked silently bythe side of her companion; then, having during those silent moments sentup an earnest prayer that the hateful feelings might be taken away fromher heart, that so she might become more like Christ, she answered byturning her steps in the other direction. 

The two girls found, as Tessa had suggested, that Bertie had indeedtaken the fever, and was very ill in her own comfortable home. Dr. Bolenhad suggested her being removed to the temporary hospital, and beingcared for by the competent nurses there; but her mother would not hearof it. She was always a very foolish woman, had been very much opposedto her daughter's going into the mill, and now told her husband thatthis fever was all the result of his obstinacy, and she hoped he enjoyedhaving murdered his own child. Now, however, she meant to have her ownway. Her Bertie, who was every bit as good as the city young ladies, hercousins, was not to go to an empty house and be nursed with a lot ofcommon mill-girls. If her mother couldn't take care of her, she shouldlike to know who could--which would have been unanswerable if Mrs. Sanderson had known how to nurse anybody--a thing of which she wasprofoundly ignorant. So poor Bertie had a hard time of it, and dailygrew worse instead of better; and as if this were not enough, Mrs. Sanderson never thought of isolating the patient, or of keeping theother children from her, and before long the third child, a boy of sixyears old, was taken down with the fever also, and the incompetentmother had her hands more than full with the care of her house, the twopatients, and two fretful, badly trained little children, with onlyNina, who had never been taught to do anything in the world, to helpher. 

Matters were in this state on the evening when the girls called, andpoor Mrs. Sanderson, coming to the door, without an atom of prudence orcaution, insisted on dragging in Katie at least, because in her wilddelirium Bertie had been incessantly shouting her name. Katie wasimpulsive, not very old or experienced, and had, moreover, been alwaystaught to obey grown people, so without a thought of possible danger toherself, she followed the woman into the house, while Tessa waited forher outside, and was soon standing by the bedside of her oldacquaintance. 

She would never have known Bertie Sanderson. The long, disorderly hair, as well as the disfiguring "bangs, " had, by the doctor's orders, allbeen shaved off; the round, rosy cheeks were pallid and sunken; thesolid frame was wasted almost to a skeleton, and there was a fierce, wild look in the eyes alternated with an expression of intense fear. 

Katie stood aghast, and even as she looked the wasted lips suddenlyshrieked out:--

"Katie, Katie Robertson! Send her here. I want to tell her something. "

"I am here, " said Katie, as soothingly as she could, for her fright. 

But Bertie took no sort of notice of her; evidently did not recognizeher at all, and went on:--

"It wasn't a lie! I did see her find it and put it in her pocket. That'sbeing a thief, isn't it? It was money--a great deal of money. I saw afive and a nought. It wasn't a lie, I tell you! She did steal it!Katie's a thief, for all she's so saintly. "

Katie started. This, then, was the mystery; this was the secret thingthat had been setting so many against her. She had never in all herspeculations concerning the general avoidance thought of this as acause. Bertie must have seen her find that fifty-dollar bill and put itin her pocket. But even if, from mere idleness, she had repeated thestory to her companions, had she told simply what she really saw, couldit be called stealing? And if Miss Eunice or Miss Etta had heard it theywould naturally have spoken of it to their brother; he would have toldthe facts as he knew them, and that would have made matters allstraight. 

Bertie must have altered her tale in some way, exaggerated it, orsuppressed a part. What for? Could her companion be so malicious assimply to desire to make her unpopular and to prevent the young ladiesfrom looking upon her with approbation? She could not understand it. Ofcourse she could not, for malice and jealousy were entirely foreign toKatie's nature, even if she had not been striving "in all her ways toacknowledge" her Saviour. She did wish, however, that she had thought ofmentioning her good fortune and Mr. James's kindness at the time, thatall this trouble might have been avoided. 

Meanwhile Bertie began to moan and cry and call for Katie; and thelatter, after speaking in vain again and again, turned to go. 

"Oh, don't go away!" said Mrs. Sanderson, imperatively. "She'll knowyou by-and-by; and I can't stand her calling for you; besides, if youcan just stay with Bertie and give her the medicine and drink, I mightget a chance to see to Alf. , who is most as bad as she is, and see whatNina's doing with those children; they've been screaming this half-hour. I don't believe she's given 'em a mite of dinner, and I guess thereain't anything in the house for supper. You just stay where you are. "

Not a thought had selfish Mrs. Sanderson for the fact that she wasexposing a neighbor's child to the same evil which had overtaken herown. Nor in Katie's inexperience did she think of it either; but she didfeel very indignant at the tone of command and very much inclined torebel. 

Moreover, she did not want to stay and take care of a girl who hadbehaved so shamefully toward herself. One by one the bitter things shehad been forced to endure through this girl's treachery anddeceitfulness came to her remembrance--the avoidance of her companions, the disapprobation and suspicion of the overseer, the changed manner ofher Sunday-school teacher, the tears she had shed in secret, and thediscouragement she had felt in her efforts to be good; and a sense ofindignation possessed her which for a moment made her feel almost gladthat the girl had thus got her deserts. 

But this feeling was not of long continuance. The Good Spirit, who wasleading Katie along the paths of righteousness, would not allow her toturn aside from them because for the moment the way seemed unpleasantand opposed to her natural inclinations. Unheard by outward ears, butheard quite plainly in her heart, he whispered words that made thelittle girl pause and think a second time before she refused to do asshe was commanded. Here was a good opportunity of being like Christ. Heforgave his enemies. He was kind to the unthankful and the evil. He gaveup his life that those who hated and persecuted and finally killed Himmight be saved. This thought decided her. 

"Let me speak a word to Tessa first, " she said; "then I'll stay. "

She then told her waiting companion how ill Bertie was, and how Mrs. Sanderson was overwhelmed with so many to see to, and wanted her tostay and help. She asked Tessa to get tea for the boys and send one ofthem for her at bedtime, all of which her friend promised faithfully toattend to, and went her way. 

When Katie returned to the sick-room, Mrs. Sanderson actually thankedher, and then went off, glad to attend to other responsibilities, andthe young nurse was left with the excited, tossing patient. Strangely toherself, she did not feel the least anger or bitterness toward her now, in spite of all her unkindness to herself. The words which had been in arecent Sunday-school lesson, "I was sick and ye visited _me_, " cameagain and again to her mind, and it hardly seemed to be Bertie to whomshe was called to minister. She had no experience in sickness, but tosome people nursing is an intuitive gift, and Katie inherited it fromher mother. Her touch was cool and light. She seemed to know by instinctwhen the patient needed drink or change of position. She smoothed thedisordered bed, shook up the pillows, turned the cool side uppermost, closed the open blind through which the western sun was blazing intothe sick girl's eyes, and finding a large newspaper lying on the floor, made a fan of it, keeping off the flies and creating a current of air, till by degrees the tossings and cries ceased, the wildly staring eyesclosed, and Bertie fell into a light, though restless, sleep. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Sanderson had come home from the bindery, and seemedsurprised to find Katie sitting so quietly by his sick child. Heremonstrated with his wife--in another room--for exposing a stranger tosuch danger of infection; but when she asked him what she was to do withtwo sick children and three well ones on her hands, and who was to getthe meals for them all, he had no answer to give, only he set aboutmaking the fire and getting supper himself, holding the baby on one armand telling Nina what to do about setting the table. When all was readyhe sent Katie down to her supper and himself watched the two sickchildren, --which, now that one of them slept, was quitepossible, --resuming his watch after he had had his own. Mrs. Sandersondeclared that she was completely "beat out, " as well she might be, poorwoman, and dropping on the lounge in the sitting-room was asleep in amoment, while Katie coaxed Nina to help her wash the dishes, clear upthe room, and put the two younger children to bed. 

By this time Dr. Bolen came in, looked at his patients, and said that, though Bertie was certainly not better, sleep was the best thing for herand should be encouraged as much as possible. Alf. , he thought, would dowell. Then seeing Katie and not recognizing her, he asked where thatother girl came from and what she was doing there. Mrs. Sandersonexplained, dwelling emphatically upon Bertie's cries for her friend andthe soothing influence her presence had exerted. 

"That's all very well, " said the doctor; "but how am I going to excuseit to her mother if she gets the fever, and what am I going to do withanother patient upon my hands and no one to nurse her?"

"Oh, well, there's no harm done. She's only been here a little while, and her brother's coming to take her home before long. "

"Not quite so fast, my good lady. She has been exposed to the feveralready, and if she goes home now, may communicate it to her twobrothers or the other girl that boards with them. Then her mother wouldbe sure to go home to take care of them, and there would be an end of myhospital and my quarantine. No; she must either go to her mother andtake her chance there, or she must stay here till we see whether she hasescaped the contagion. "

"Please, let me stay here, " said Katie, who had overheard thisconversation. "I don't think I shall have the fever, but I am sure I canbe of use to them all. "

"Wouldn't you like to go and be with your mother?"

"Yes, sir, I'd like to, but I'd _rather_ stay here; because, becausethey need me, and"--the rest of the sentence was spoken low as ifwithout being intended for any one to hear, but both the doctor and Mr. Sanderson heard it and marveled at the words. They were:--

"Even Christ pleased not himself. "

CHAPTER XV. 

CONSCIENCE. 

Mr Sanderson would not allow Katie to sit up late. Indeed, she could nothave kept awake, and would have been of little use if she could. Sheshared Nina's bed in the room where the younger children slept, but layawake thinking, long after that irresponsible little girl was asleep byher side. Everything seemed so strange. It was the first night she hadever spent away from her own home, and she could not help wondering howTessa and the boys were getting along, and what they had for supper. Shethought of her mother and of the anxiety which, when she heard where shewas, she would feel about her; and she wondered if she should have thefever, and if she did if she should die, as one of the patients at thehospital had already done. Then she wondered if Bertie would die, and astrange sort of awe came over her at such a thought in connection withone who had been her playmate ever since she could remember. It madedeath seem very near, and she wondered if she were fit to die. But thatthought did not trouble her much. Nothing, either in life or death, canreally hurt those who love Jesus and trust in his protection. She askedhim to make her ready to die when he chose, and then, being of a veryhopeful, cheerful nature, began to think of other things. 

How could Bertie have circulated those stories about her? And, what wasmore important, how could she set herself right in the eyes of the othergirls, and especially in those of Miss Eunice and Miss Etta? She couldnot go and say to the latter: "I know Bertie called me a thief, but I amnot one, " and then tell the story just as it was. They might not believeher, and if they did it would be betraying Bertie, and that would not bekind, particularly now that the latter was so ill. Or if she could havetold the young ladies and, with the help of Mr. James, made it allstraight with them, she could not go around to all the girls and explainwhat to them were half-defined suspicions. Even if she told the storyof the fifty-dollar bill and her version of it were believed, they mightvery naturally think that there was something else, and that Bertiewould scarcely have based her charge of theft on so slight and easily tobe explained a circumstance as that. What should she do? It was dreadfulto live under such a cloud; to have people consider you wicked when youare desiring and trying with all your might to be good, and not be ableto right yourself at all. Again a feeling toward Bertie arose in thegirl's heart that would have been hatred but for her companion's presentcondition, and which she felt to be wrong even as it was. For thethought of Jesus and how he forgave his enemies made her feel ashamed ofherself, till she got out of bed and, kneeling down in the moonlight, prayed to be made more like him and to be willing to suffer wrongfully, if need be, with patience, rather than to feel wrong or to do anythingunkind. And then, as she got into bed again, the scripture words withwhich she had commenced her factory life came back to her with newforce:--

"In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths. " Andthen those others in the thirty-seventh Psalm: "Commit thy way unto theLord; trust also in him, and he shall bring it to pass. He shall bringforth thy righteousness as the light. "

That was the safest way. She might leave it to God to take care of herreputation. He could manage it though she could not, and some timeeverybody would understand just how it was, and know she was not athief. Meantime she could afford to wait his time. 

The next morning Mr. Sanderson promised to send word to the mill aboutKatie's absence and its cause, and when he left for the bindery his wifecame downstairs to see to things, and she took her place in thesick-room, while Nina went to sit with Alf. Mrs. Sanderson was surprisedto see how much Katie had managed to do before breakfast and in theinterim between, exciting in Nina quite an ambition to wash dishes and"clean up. " The little children had been nicely washed and dressed andwere, when their mother went down, sitting on the kitchen doorstep witha kitten between them, over which, for a wonder, they were neitherfretting nor quarreling. The breakfast things were all put away, thefloor swept, and there was a general look of comfort which had notexisted in that house for more than a week. The poor tired woman sankinto a rocking-chair, saying to herself, "I don't see how it is somepeople's children are so handy. Mine don't ever do anything they canhelp. It's some people's luck. " It never came into Mrs. Sanderson's headthat the "luck" of good, efficient children is largely dependent uponthe sensible training given them by their mothers. 

The doctor, when he came, found Bertie much easier, if not absolutelybetter. He could not tell quite yet if there were any likelihood of herrecovery, but the quieter she could be kept, and the more sleep shecould get, the more chance she would have. He told Katie she was afamous nurse, and he should trust her to keep the room still, dark, andcool, and to soothe her friend as much as she possibly could. Hefurthermore told her that he had seen her mother, who approved of herremaining where she was, though of course she was very anxious lest sheshould take the fever and very sorry that she had gone to the house inthe first place. 

"I promised to watch you closely, " said he, "and the moment I saw anysymptoms, take you to her to be nursed. But I don't believe you willhave it if you take care of yourself. You are in the path of duty, and Ihave often observed that those who are there seldom come to any harm. "

It seemed a very long day to restless, active Katie, and yet in onesense it was a relief from the steady, monotonous work in the mill. Bertie was so quiet at first that she was able to wait upon her andAlf. Both, and let Nina go down to help her mother get dinner. But aftera while she began to toss and mutter, and then came those wild cries forKatie Robertson; that she had something to tell her; that she hadn'ttold a lie, for Katie was a thief. 

When or how the change came the watcher hardly knew, but all at once shebecame aware that Bertie lay looking directly at her, and that there wasfull recognition in her eyes. Neither girl spoke for a moment; thenBertie said with a kind of shudder:--

"Am I dead?"

"No, indeed, " said the other, not without some effort to speakcheerfully. "You are going to get well now; only keep still and don'ttire yourself. "

"I am going to die, " said Bertie, slowly; "and I can't die, I am sowicked. Katie, I said dreadful things about you. I made all the girlshate you, and Miss Etta, too; but it wasn't quite a lie, for I did seeyou take the money. "

"Yes, " said Katie, quietly, "I did find a fifty-dollar bill in an oldvest, and I suppose you saw me; but why didn't you tell _me_ you saw it, instead of telling the girls? Then I could have explained all about it?"

"I don't know, " said Bertie, uneasily. "Yes, I do; that's another lie, and I don't mean to tell lies _now_, I didn't want to have it explained. I wanted the girls to dislike you as much as I did. "

"Why?" said Katie, astonished. 

"Oh, well, you preached to me, and pretended to be a saint, and MissEtta and everybody thought you were so good, and"--

"Shall I tell you about that bill now?"

"Yes, do!"

So Katie told her companion just how it happened, and it was all sosimple that she wondered how she could have made such a story of it. 

"I wonder you didn't keep the bill, and not take it to Mr. James, " shesaid. "I should. "

"I did have a little fight about it, " said Katie, blushing. "It was agreat temptation. I'm not so very good, but"--

"But what?" said Bertie, eagerly, looking at her. 

"I think the Lord Jesus helped me. I asked him, and he says he will helpus to be good. "

"Do you think he would help me?"

"I am sure he would. O Bertie, do ask him! I am so glad!"

"Are you?" said the sick girl, dreamily. But the effort to talk or thinklonger in her weakened state was too great. She seemed to float awayagain, and by degrees the same wild look came into her eyes, thetossings began again, and the low mutterings and sharp cries. It wasvery painful both to see and hear, but Katie was glad to notice that herown name no longer mingled in the confused talk, and the consciousnessof wrong-doing toward herself seemed to have passed away. 

In the evening the doctor said that the patient had had a relapse, andquestioned her young nurse very particularly as to whether she had shownany consciousness; and being told that she had seemed for a little whileto be quite herself, he asked if she had spoken. Katie said that she hadtalked quite rationally about something that had distressed her for sometime, but she did not say what that something was. 

"Bad, " said he; "you should never let a fever patient talk, no matterhow much she may try. But I mustn't scold you, I suppose; you are tooyoung for such a responsibility, and your friend there is extremelyill. "

Then he went downstairs and consulted Bertie's parents, and the resultwas that a letter was written to the city aunt begging her to come andhelp take care of the two sick children. The doctor wrote it himself, stating as delicately as he could the extreme urgency of the case, theinefficiency of the mother, the dangerous illness of the children, andthe impossibility of securing any assistance in the care of them exceptthat of an inexperienced little girl, who was herself in constant dangerof being added to the list of patients. 

In answer to this appeal, after a couple of days, Mrs. Jamieson, who, ifa silly, overindulgent mother, was a much more efficient woman than hersister, made her appearance in Squantown, and under her supervisionmatters were soon in a better condition, and Katie was no longer needed. She had made herself extremely useful, however, and all the family wereunfeignedly obliged to her. The children could not bear to have her go, and Mr. Sanderson insisted upon giving her as much money as she wouldhave earned during the days she had been absent from the mill. Dr. Bolensaid she showed no signs of having taken the infection and it would bequite safe for her to go home if she would change all her clothes forthose which Eric took to the bindery and Mr. Sanderson carried home, leaving everything she had worn in the sick-room behind her, and thenwould take a long walk, where the wind could blow her hair about andfreshen her up thoroughly. 

Tessa and Katie had a long, long talk that night. The former had manythings to tell of what had happened both in the mill and at home duringthe absence of the latter; how the rag-room had been closed andfumigated, the foreign rags all burned, and the girls and Miss Petersenjoyed a three days' holiday without having it deducted from theirwages; how the old cat had presented the household with a lovely familyof downy kittens, for which Alfred had made a little house in a box outin the yard; and how both boys had been very patient toward her cookery, laughing at her mistakes and helping her with their superior knowledge;and how they had stayed at home and played games with her every evening, thus preventing her from taking to novels again to cheer her loneliness, as she should otherwise have felt tempted to do. 

Then Katie told Tessa all about the fifty-dollar bill, of which she hadnever heard before and Bertie's unkindness in setting everybody againsther; and Tessa said she had heard the rumors, and often tried to makethe girls tell her what they meant, but the only thing she could findout was that Katie was dishonest. 

"I wonder you were friends with me, then, " said Katie. "I should thinkyou would have avoided me, just as all the other girls did. Weren't youashamed to associate with a thief?"

"Oh, Katie, you know I couldn't believe such a thing of you!--you whohave been my best friend--the only real friend I have ever had. "

"But why didn't you tell me what you had heard, and ask me to explainit? You see how easily I could have done so. "

"Somehow I didn't like to. It seemed like doubting you even to repeatthe lies. I knew they were lies all the time, and I loved you betterthan anybody else in the world. What consequence was it to me what otherpeople said about you?"

How to clear the matter up, neither of the girls knew. For it would bestill more cruel and dishonorable, as they thought, to tell what Bertiehad done, now that she had confessed it herself and was lying so low. But Katie had learned to "commit her way unto the Lord, " and she was nottroubled any more about the matter. 

"I should think you'd hate Bertie, " said Tessa, with Italian intensity. "I don't see how you could bring yourself to stay there and take care ofher when you knew how much she had injured you. I should have felt likeputting poison into her drink or smothering her with the pillows. "

"No, you wouldn't, " said the other, laughing, but immediately becominggrave again. "You couldn't hate any one who was dying, and besides, itwouldn't be like Jesus. "

"I don't understand. "

"Don't you see? Jesus gave up his life for sinners, for those who werehis enemies. It makes me love him whenever I think of it, and I want tobe like him. This was a good chance, and I think he helped me toovercome all kind of hard feeling. I only longed to do everything Icould to make her more comfortable. "

"I wish I could love Jesus as you do. My father used to tell mereligion was just the priests deceiving silly women, and reminded me howthe robbers and beggars in Italy would kneel before the crucifixes, shedtears as they said their prayers, and then turn away and be just aswicked as before. But to you it all seems real, and it, or something, makes you just the best girl I ever saw. But I can't feel so. "

"Yes, you can; our Lord Jesus says '_whosoever_ will, may take of thewater of life freely, ' and 'him that cometh unto me, I will in no wisecast out. ' You must be one of the 'whosoever. ' O Tessa, I only wishyou'd come!"

But Tessa did not answer, and Katie, thinking her asleep, soon followedher example. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

DECIDING. 

It was about four weeks later in the season. Miss Eunice's "tea-party, "which had not been held for a long time, was gathered at the greathouse; not now in the pleasant sitting-room, but on the still pleasantershaded lawn, where the girls occupied pretty rustic seats, while the teawas spread on little green tables, around which they were grouped asinclination prompted them. 

All the members of both classes were there, with the exception of BertieSanderson; and there were quite a number of new faces. Some were presentwho had lately stood very close to death, and others whom the solemnthought induced by the public catastrophe had led to seek for a betterlife than one of mere amusement. All were glad to come together again;but there was a subdued tone in the gladness, and some voices were notas gay and careless as they were a month ago. 

The fever had passed away. There had been no more cases, and only thatone death. The rag-room girls and the invalids had gone back to theirwork; the hospital was closed; Mrs. Robertson had returned to herfamily, with for once a thankful heart. For, besides that she had beenvery well paid for her services and loss of time, the pestilence hadspared her own dear ones; and they were all there to welcome her as shecame back to her home. 

Moreover, she had become very much attached to Gretchen and the othergirls whom she had attended during their illness, and hated to let themgo back to the tender mercies of Mrs. Doyle and the other boarding-housekeepers, where they would be sure to be not only uncomfortable and badlyfed, but also very much neglected in case of any new illness which mighteasily result from their weak, enfeebled condition. Her motherly heartthought a great deal about the matter, and her thoughts finally ended inher fitting up a large garret-room, which had never been occupied, withfour little white beds and other necessaries and conveniences, andtaking the four convalescents home with her as permanent boarders. Thegirls, while paying no more than they had heretofore done, profitedgreatly by the change. They had plain and wholesome, becausewell-cooked, food, plenty of cleanliness and fresh air, besides theelevating and refining influence of a home where Christian living wasinculcated, not so much by precept as by practice. God "setteth thesolitary in families, " not boarding-houses or institutions; but that isthe only true family which takes care "in all its ways to acknowledgehim. " If such families all over our land would open the arms of theirexclusiveness each to take in one or more of the waifs and strays oflife, and throw around them the arms of Christian love, they would betaking a long step toward answering their own daily prayer of

 "Thy kingdom come ... On earth as it is in heaven. "

Katie and Tessa were pleased, girl-like, with the addition to theirfamily party, and, though the boys grumbled a little at first, being, asboys are apt to be, a little shy of girls' society, they soon becameused to the change and glad to enjoy the evening occupations that wererendered possible by so large a number. 

It had always been a source of great anxiety to the widow, lest herboys, deprived of a father's watchful authority, would, as they grew up, wander off at night, fall under bad influences, learn evil habits, andgrow up worthless, dissipated men. But thus far she had been successfulin keeping Eric and Alfred at home with her and their little sister, andnow, just when the restlessness common to their age might have drawnthem away, a new interest was presented in the shape of a "home readingsociety, " which held its sessions on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursdaynights; Wednesday evening being devoted to Miss Eunice's "tea-party, "Friday to the church service, and Saturday to games. 

Mrs. Robertson had plans of a more solid nature for the winter, but tillthe warm summer weather was over, this seemed enough. The books readwere historical stories, biographies, and the like, taken from the milllibrary by special permission. The boys were generally the readers, while the girls were encouraged by their motherly landlady to repair andkeep their clothes in order, a branch of womanliness apt to be muchneglected by factory operatives, who often marry and enter upon familyduties without even knowing how to hold a needle. 

Of course, the widow's time was now so fully occupied that she could notgo out to work in families, as she had been wont to do, but the moneypaid by her boarders more than compensated for that. Her heart, as wellas her hands, was quite full, and having no time to brood over herfallen condition, she did not worry and grumble so much as formerly, andwas happier than she had ever been since the doctor died and left her tobattle with the world alone. And thus she learned to realize the truthof that scripture:--

"He that watereth shall be watered also himself. "

Bertie Sanderson did not die with the fever, though all around her, eventhe doctor, had at one time quite given up all hope of her recovery. Sheslowly struggled back to life, and as soon as she was able to bear thejourney her aunt took her to the city with her for more complete restand change. Katie did not see her again; for, having once got away fromthe infected house, it was not thought best either for her brothers athome, or her companions in the mill, that she should risk exposureagain. She often longed to know the state of her former companion's mindon recovering her senses. If she remembered that exciting conversation;if she were really penitent for what she had done; and if she had takenher companion's advice and sought the forgiveness and strength of herSaviour. But no one could tell her. Indeed, there was no one she couldask, for she felt intuitively that Mrs. Sanderson was not a person tounderstand this sort of thing, and she could not summon courage to askBertie's father. Of one thing she was sure, however--her companion hadnot as yet openly confessed her share in the reports which had soaffected Katie's reputation, and she must still wait in patience till heto whom she had "committed her way" should make it clear. 

The reading for this Wednesday afternoon had been exceedingly solemn. Itwas about the danger of being "almost persuaded" to do one's duty, andthen leaving it undone; the uncertainty of another opportunitypresenting itself, and the importance of deciding for Christ _now_. Atits close Miss Eunice had said:--

"My dear girls, we have in the weeks that have gone by carefullyconsidered the subject of religion and God's claims upon every one of usfor the consecration to him of our hearts and our lives. We have seenthat the steps we are called upon to take are repentance, that is, forsaking sin in intention as well as being sorry for it; a steadfast, living faith in Christ Jesus as our Saviour, and a resolutedetermination to spend the rest of our lives in his service by keepinghis commandments and doing his will. 

"We have learned, also, that of ourselves we are none of us sufficientfor any of these things, but that God is ready--nay, anxious--to give ushis Holy Spirit in answer to our asking, and that this Holy Spirit willwork in us the repentance and faith, as well as give us the strength tocarry it out amid all the temptations of our daily lives. To-day'slesson has been upon the importance of deciding, and the danger ofdelay, in such a serious matter. I think the lessons of the past fewweeks have helped to impress this latter fact upon us; and I am gladthat our pastor has just written me a note to ask that all of you whohave made up your minds to confess your Saviour openly at our communionSunday, the first week in September, which will be just two weeks fromto-day, will send him your names at once. He desires to see and talkwith each one of you separately, that he may satisfy himself of yourbeing in a fit condition for so important a step. I have a paper here onwhich you may write your names; but before you do I want you to examineyour own hearts faithfully and as in the sight of God, to see whetheryou honestly and sincerely 'repent you of your sins past, have a livelyand steadfast faith in Christ our Saviour, and intend to lead a newlife, following the commandments of God and walking from henceforth inhis holy ways, that so you may not be guilty of making a deceitful andfalse profession. ' And now let us pray. "

The girls all knelt down, and their teacher prayed that these dear girlsmight have a right judgment in all things, and decide, "not lightly norafter the manner of dissemblers with God, " to confess Christ for theirSaviour, and give themselves to him in the way of his appointment. Thenthere was silence for many minutes, that all kneeling there mightcarefully examine their own hearts and make this most important decisionof their lives in the very realized presence of God himself. 

After this the tea-table conversation was not a very gay one, and thegirls went home uncommonly early, many of them before leaving writingtheir names upon the sheet of paper which their teacher presented. Tosome it seemed too awful a thing to do; to others, as to KatieRobertson, the awe was softened by the glad sense that Christ waspleased with this act of acknowledging him; and still others weregreatly strengthened by this first act of self-committal, from whichthey would now be ashamed to draw back. 

"Fifteen names; God bless them all!" said Miss Eunice, as she lookedover the paper with her sister, whose own name headed the list. "I am soglad! And yet there are two or three more that I would like to seethere; perhaps they will decide yet. But, Etta, what shall we do withthis one?"--pointing to Katie Robertson's. 

"I don't know, unless we consult Mr. Morven. " For the young lady hadbegun to realize the help and strength there is in talking overspiritual matters and difficulties with one well qualified to giveadvice and help; and many a deeply interesting one had followed thatfirst Sunday afternoon's conversation between Etta and her pastor. 

"We might do that, " said the elder sister, musingly. "And yet, I hardlylike to, either; for, you see, we don't know anything definitely againstthe child, and I should be sorry to create a prejudice against hershould she prove to be innocent. At the same time, I do not like to takethe responsibility of assenting to the public religious profession of agirl who has such an accusation as theft hanging over her. "

"I have almost a mind to tell her the report, and ask her what it means. I have somehow shrunk from doing so because it seems an absolute insult, and whenever I see the child I can not believe there is any truth in thestory. I wish I knew more particulars. "

"Who was your informant? Oh, I remember!--Bertie Sanderson--and she isout of the way now, and can't be questioned. "

"I never believed in, nor liked, Bertie; but I don't think she is badenough to invent such a slander, making it out of whole cloth. She saidGretchen knew; but I never thought of asking her. She is as truthful asthe day. "

"I would ask her, " said her sister. "And there she is by the gate--comeback for something, maybe. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

CLEARED. 

Gretchen came slowly up the lawn, and stood for a moment shyly by theside of Miss Eunice. 

"Is there anything I can do for you, my child?" said the young lady, pleasantly, desiring to put her at her ease. 

"Please, will you write my name there?" she said, pointing to the list. "I can't write English letters, and I was ashamed to have the othergirls know. "

"That is nothing to be ashamed of, " said Etta. "I don't believe any ofthe other girls can write German letters. But, Gretchen, do you honestlywant to give yourself to your Saviour, and to live so as to serve andplease him?"

"Yes, Miss Etta. I shall never forget the night you prayed for me when Iwas so sick. You said the Lord Jesus would hear the prayer, and take meif I came to him. I think he did so, and I have been coming to himagain and again, ever since. He has been good, so good to me, saving mefrom dying and making me get well from that terrible sickness. The moreI read about him in my Bible, the more I love him and want to honor him. But, Miss Etta, it was you who told me about him, and I shall neverforget that night. "

Etta's eyes filled with glad tears, while her sister added the sixteenthname to the list, and she clasped the hard, red hand with a feeling ofsisterhood, for which she could hardly account. 

Gretchen's sickness had greatly improved her appearance, toning down heroverbright color, and giving her a look of greater delicacy. Mrs. Robertson and Katie had managed to exchange the dark woolen petticoatand jacket for a simple summer dress such as the other girls wore; whilecontact with the others in the friendly home life had brightened up herintellect, and her new, deeper feelings and desire after a spirituallife had given her a certain earnestness of expression which made thehomely German features very pleasant to look upon. 

She was just going away after thanking both her teachers in a quaint, formal manner, when Etta said:--

"Gretchen, I don't want you to tell tales about your companions, and youneed not answer unless you wish to do so, but I have been told that youknow facts concerning a rumor about Katie Robertson, that I very muchdesire to find out. Can you, honorably, tell me anything about it?"

"Some of the girls don't like her; I don't know why. She's always a verynice girl to me, and so good to her mother!"

"But the rumor is that she is dishonest, and that you saw her stealsomething. "

"I saw Katie steal?" said Gretchen, very slowly. "Never, never in mylife. Oh, I know, " a light breaking over her face at a suddenrecollection. "Bertha and I both saw her find a bill in an oldvest-pocket one day, and put it in her own. Bertha spoke about it to me, but it wasn't my business. Finding isn't stealing. "

"It isn't quite honest to keep what we find, " said Miss Eunice. "Weshould try to restore it to the owner. "

"But how could she find the owner?" said Gretchen, eagerly. "He mightbe away over in Germany, or--or anywhere. "

"That is true, " said Etta, thoughtfully. "It's strange! I can't believethat Katie's dishonest. "

"Oh, she isn't; I'm sure she isn't! I only wish I could prove it; butthis is all I know about the matter. "

"Well, dear, thank you for saying what you have said. Don't say a wordabout it among your companions. I know I can trust you that far, and Iwill find out the mystery somehow. Good-night, Gretchen. God bless youin your new service, " and Miss Eunice kissed her, little Germanfactory-girl though she was. 

"Find out the mystery? Of course we can; just as easy as possible, now, "said Etta. "All we've got to do is just to ask James if such anoccurrence ever happened in the mill. "

And Mr. James Mountjoy promptly coming in at that moment, both sistersappealed to him, and heard in return a very simple statement of thewhole affair. 

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I did mean to. I thought it so noble in the child. Five girls out ofevery six would have put the money into their pockets, and said nothingabout it. It was very brave in her, too, to tell me how she had beentempted to keep it. "

"I know why he did not tell, " said the elder sister, looking fondly ather brother. "Five employers out of six would have accepted the money astheir right, and the finder have been none the better for it. Our Jamesis not apt to trumpet his own praises. "

The young man colored, and said:--

"I think Katie Robertson is an uncommonly fine girl. I was struck bysomething she said the day she entered the mill. I asked her if shethought she could be a faithful little girl, and she said she was tryingto please God everywhere, and she was sure he would help her here. Ithink she has acted up to that idea ever since. I have watched her fromtime to time, and I can not find that she has ever been guilty ofdisobedience to rules, or any kind of underhand behavior. Her work hasalways been faithfully done, and her example has been of great use inkeeping order among the others. Sanderson is enthusiastic in his praisesof her bravery and womanly unselfishness. He says she came to his houseat the risk of her own life, and helped his poor, tired-out wife takecare of the two sick children with as much earnestness, and almost asmuch skill, as a professional nurse. She stayed there till the aunt fromthe city came, thus losing five days' work. I offered her the wages forthose days when I found it out, but she told me Mr. Sanderson had givenher the amount, and she did not want to be paid twice over. "

"And this is the girl we have been suspecting of dishonesty!" said Etta. "We really owe her something to make amends. What a little wretch thatBertie Sanderson must be! I really think her parents ought to be toldall the circumstances. "

All this while a pile of unopened letters, brought by the evening mail, was lying upon the centre-table. The young gentleman turned them over, took possession of several which were directed to himself, and then, handing Etta one which he said was for her, left the room. 

"Who can it be from?" said the young lady, eyeing the strangely foldedand badly directed epistle, without opening it, as is the manner of somany people. 

"I'd see if I were you, " said her sister; and seeing that this was goodadvice, Etta took it, glanced at the signature, and exclaimed:--

"Bertie Sanderson! what a coincidence!"

The letter was as follows:--

 NEW YORK, August 15, 18--. 

 My Dear Miss Etta, --I don't know how to write letters very well, but I must tell you something that is upon my mind. It is about Katie Robertson. You remember I told you she was a thief, and I told all the girls she was dishonest. I didn't _know_ that she was; I only saw her find a fifty-dollar bill among the rags one day, and put it in her pocket. I didn't know what she did with it, and I didn't try to find out, because I was jealous and hated her. She used to tell me it was dishonest to break rules, and talk, and idle, when one was paid for working, and I felt kind of glad to think I had found her out in being dishonest too. I told the girls about it--not all, but just enough to make them think her a thief, because at first they all seemed to think so much more of her than they did of me, and I told you just the same thing when you asked me. I tried to tell father when he used to praise up Katie Robertson's independence and industry, and wish I would follow her example. You see, it was all because of her that he put me in the mill. But somehow I couldn't tell him. I was afraid. 

 You see, Miss Etta, I have been a very wicked girl, and when I got so sick I was afraid to die. I tried to think I hadn't told a lie, because I _did_ see her find the money, and I _didn't_ know what she had done with it; but I knew I had "borne false witness, " and I hadn't "loved my neighbor as myself. " I knew, too, that nobody could go to heaven with a heart full of malice and hatred, and I wanted to tell Katie all about it, and ask her to forgive me, and when I got wild I kept calling for her. Then she came and stayed and took such good care of me, I've been ashamed since I knew about it; but I didn't know her or any one then, only one day my wits seemed to come back to me and I told her all about it, and she explained so simply how she had found the money and taken it to Mr. James, and Mr. James had told her to keep it, that I saw in a moment that it was only because I wanted to think her bad that I didn't find out just how it was long before. 

 I felt so bad then, Miss Etta, because I thought I was surely dying, and going before God with all that unforgiven sin upon me, and Katie talked so sweetly about Jesus and his forgiveness and help that I thought I'd like to try. But then I didn't know anything for a long time till I woke up and found my aunt there, and they said I couldn't see Katie again, because she might get the fever or carry it to her brothers. 

 I was dreadfully unhappy, even after I came here, not only about this, but because of all the other bad things I've done all my life. I've been selfish and vain, and unkind and untruthful and dishonest, and I almost wished I had died when I was sick, only then I could not have gone to heaven, and I never could have cleared Katie. 

 Since I have been here I have been to church a good deal with my cousins, who are Congregationalists, and are both going to join the church. There is a daily service, and there have been a large number of conversions. I have talked a good deal with my aunt, and I really do want to commence over again and be a good girl. Aunt Anna says that Jesus died so that the very worst sinners might be forgiven, and I think he will forgive me. She wants me to stay and be received with her daughters here, but I'd rather join the dear church in Squantown, with the other girls, if you think I might. 

 But I want Katie and all the girls to know just how bad I have been and just how sorry I am. Please tell them all that I have said, and write and tell me if you think I might join the church, when I've been so wicked. 

 Give my best love to Miss Eunice and ask her to forgive me, too. 

 Your affectionate Sunday scholar, BERTHA SANDERSON. 

"I think we may join in the joy of the angels in the presence of Godover the one sinner that repenteth, " said Miss Eunice, as her sisterfinished this long and evidently earnest letter. "I think you may safelywrite to the dear child to come home and commence her new life among us. Your class is greatly blessed, my sister, and I think when we rememberwhat it has done for Gretchen and Bertie, we may well thank God for theship-fever as for an angel in disguise. "

The next Sunday Etta Mountjoy detained her class a few moments after theschool session, and read to them the whole of Bertie's letter. 

It was received with various expressions of surprise, which were greatlyaugmented when the whole story of the fifty-dollar bill was told. 

"I have brought this all before you, girls, " she said, "not to make youthink hardly of Bertie. She has suffered too much and is too evidentlysincerely sorry for me to do that. I want you to rejoice with me in herrepentance, and when she comes back, to receive her with fullforgiveness and sympathy, and aid her in her efforts to lead a new life. I thought you ought to know how well one little girl among us hasbehaved under the most unjust suspicions and great unkindness. Not oneof us has understood Katie Robertson. She has known for four weeks, fromBertie's statement to her, what was the real reason of our avoidance andsuspicion, and she has never opened her mouth to explain the true stateof the case and clear herself, as she might easily have done, because byso doing she would have been obliged to tell of the unkindness andmalice of her companion. 

"I think we all ought to ask her pardon for being so ready to condemnher unheard and to believe what was whispered against her; and, morethan that, we ought to be very thankful to the Lord for giving her sucha grand victory over herself. "

Katie blushed and could find nothing to say, as one after another thegirls and their teacher shook hands with her and kissed her; but it wasa very happy heart the little girl carried home with her that brightSunday. 

"Tessa, " she said, "it's all true, every word:

 "'Commit thy way unto the Lord, And He _shall_ bring it to pass. '"

CHAPTER XVIII. 

SEALED. 

The first Sunday in September was the most beautiful day of theseason--calm, still, and sunshiny. The August heats were abated, but notouch of chill had yet come into the air. It was still summer, butsummer's fierceness had passed by. When the bell of the little graystone church rang out in joyous tones, multitudes of people, in brightSunday attire, and with expectant faces, came out of the cottages andboarding-houses and, singly or in groups, wound their way up the hill. 

Factory operatives are not, as a rule, a very church-going population, and the church was not wont to be overcrowded; but to-day the pews andseats are all full, and so are the extra benches and chairs taken fromthe Sunday-school room and placed in the aisles. Every one in Squantownwho possesses a sufficiently decent wardrobe in which to appear in aplace of worship has turned out to-day. For to-day many of the boys andgirls are to stand forth with many of their older friends, and confessthemselves upon the Lord's side, while their pastor prays that upon themmay fall a fuller measure of that Good Spirit, who alone can enable themto stand firm amid the many temptations by which they are surrounded, and while their brethren, who are older in the faith, promise to givethem all the sympathy and help which it is in their power to bestow. 

The church has been decorated for the occasion with a wealth of latesummer flowers. Geraniums, scarlet, coral, pink, and white, dahlias ofevery variegated hue, asters, zinnias, heliotrope, ferns, golden-rod, and a multitude more are entwined around the pulpit or wreathed abovewindows and doors. Pure white day-lilies load the air with perfume, andrare exotics from the gardens of the "great house" stand in exquisitelyarranged baskets upon the communion-table. 

The music, intended to do special honor to the occasion, is somewhatelaborate, considering that the choir is composed of the older boys andgirls from the Sunday-school, and is therefore not so good as usual froman artistic point of view; but it is better than artistic in that it isintended to do honor to the occasion, and is in many instances thesincere thank-offering of hearts glad to give to their Saviour the "dewof their youth. "

It was the endeavor, not only of the clergyman, but also of the wholeMountjoy family, to banish all class distinctions from the church, andto make rich and poor, as they sat together before God, "the maker ofthem all, " feel that they were all one family; that all had a commonownership of, and interest in, the beautiful building and thewell-conducted services. 

Thus the factory-girls went to the woods on Saturday afternoon forgolden-rod and ferns; the humblest families robbed their cottage gardensof the few bright flowers they contained; and the boys gave willingassistance to Etta and her class in arranging and putting up thedecorations. The whole congregation joined in singing the hymns and suchof the chants as were familiar, and rarely had the singing beenheartier. 

The service was over and the sermon, and then, as the last hymn wassung, the call was given for the candidates to come forward in answer tothe reading of their names. How many of them there were! Even those whohad prayed most earnestly and labored most actively were surprised atthe result. There were six of the elder girls composing Miss Eunice'sBible-class (the others were already communicants); four of herbrother's boys; Etta and her whole class of seven, --making eighteen fromthe Sunday-school. But there were also quite a number of young men whoworked in the factory, who had been largely won by James Mountjoy'shonor and integrity, added to manly Christianity; and some young women, and even elder ones, with one or two heads of families, who had been ledby the indefatigable efforts of the pastor thus to openly acknowledgeChrist. 

The girls were not as a rule dressed in any particular manner. Etta, indeed, and one or two others, were in white, because it happened to bemore convenient and suitable, but neither Mr. Morven nor Miss Eunicewished to have the consciousness of dress interfere with the solemnthoughts of self-dedication and renunciation of the world appropriate tothe occasion. Even with Bertie Sanderson, who had come home a few daysbefore, "old things had so passed away, " that she wore a simple bluegingham, much plainer, and at the same time much more becoming, than thecostume in which she had originally appeared at the mill. The solemnquestions were asked and answered; the personal vows taken; earnest, solemn prayers uttered and words of wise counsel said, to be longremembered and heeded and acted upon in life's coming battles; and then, with a burst of joyful song, the solemn service was over, and thoseengaged in it went out from the sacred precincts to fulfil the vows andexercise the grace among the common scenes and homely details of dailylife. To many, nay, to most, life would not be one continuous communionservice; the holy awe would of necessity fade away; the hymns andprayers be exchanged for the harsh wrangle and barter of a work-dayworld; temptation was awaiting many of those new church members inunexpected places, and the evil nature within, not yet wholly subdued bydivine grace, would make the pathway of holiness a very narrow one, along which untrained feet would often stumble. But the memory of thishour would always be, to those who cherished it, a shield againsttemptation, a counter-charm against the wiles of the evil one; and sincethe Saviour whom they had that day openly avouched to be their Lord andGod had promised "never to leave or to forsake them, " only victory couldfollow those who confided entirely in him. 

"Tessa, " said Katie, when the two girls were alone together thatafternoon, "I didn't know you were going to join the church till thismorning. Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Well, you see I didn't make up my mind till yesterday afternoon. Then Iwent to Miss Etta, and she took me to Mr. Morven, and he took my nameand encouraged me to come. "

"What made you think of it?"

"You first. I didn't see how you could be so gentle and patient wheneverybody was condemning you and thinking evil of you. Then I watchedyou at your work, and saw how faithful you were, whether any one saw youor not, just as if you felt that God was looking at you, and you wantedto please him. "

"So I did. I took for my text, in the mill, the verse: 'In all thy waysacknowledge him. '"

"Then, " continued Tessa, "when you wanted me to give up reading thosenovels I was real mad at first. I thought you had no right to find faultwith what I did, and that it was very mean in you, who had a comfortablehome and a mother and two brothers, to want to take away the onlypleasure from me who had nothing. But when you talked with me sosweetly, and when you asked me to come and live with you, and yourmother took in the stranger that no one knew anything about and treatedme just like one of her own children, I knew that you did it just out ofkindness, and I tried to see what made you so kind. "

"I don't think I'm kind, " said Katie, "but I do want to be. "

"The only reason I went to Sunday-school and church with you, "continued her friend, "was to find out what it was that made you sodifferent from the other girls, and there I heard all about Jesus, sodifferent from what the priests used to say at home. There were nocrucifixes, no pictures in the church, as there were in Italy, and yethe seemed to be more real than he ever did there, and I found myselfbeginning to love him almost before I knew it. "

"I'm so glad!"

"So am I; but I don't think I ever quite saw what he was, how he laiddown his life, for his enemies I mean, till you went to take care ofBertie, at the risk of your own life, and stayed there when you knew howbadly she had treated you, and never said a word afterward for fear itwould hurt her. It showed me just how he cares for all of us and wantsto help us, even those who don't like him and don't want to take hishelp, and I made up my mind to give myself to him and take him for mySaviour that very night when you asked me to. "

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Somehow I couldn't. I couldn't talk about such things; they seemed toosacred. And one reason I didn't give in my name with the others that dayat Miss Etta's was because I was afraid Miss Eunice or somebody, theminister, perhaps, would ask me questions. "

"Didn't you want to talk to the minister?"

"No; it seemed like going to confession, and that I promised my fatherI'd never do. Besides, I didn't think I was good enough. "

"Why, we're none of us good enough, Miss Eunice says. "

"I know; I listened to all the readings and the talk and the lectures, and by-and-by I got to see things that I hadn't understood before, andhow it is not because we are good and strong, but because we're sinfuland weak, that we need a Saviour and all the influences of the church. And so, just at the very last moment, I prayed for bravery enough totell Miss Etta, and she went with me to Mr. Morven, and he told me I wasjust the one to come, if I really loved the Lord Jesus ever so littleand wanted to do his will. He was just as kind and gentle, and it wasn'ta bit like confession, for he didn't ask me any string of questions anddidn't say the absolution--just talked to us both, prayed, and sent ushome. I'm so glad I decided. I never felt so happy in my life before. "

"Nor I, " said Katie. "It doesn't seem as if anything ever could be hardor hateful again. "

So felt a good many young hearts that quiet Sunday night as theyreturned from the evening service, where the pastor preached a specialsermon to those of his flock who had just openly enlisted in the army ofthe Cross, welcoming them once more into the "communion of saints, "pointing out the responsibilities they had assumed and the difficultiesin their way, but at the same time congratulating them on the assuredstrength and aid which were promised to make them "more than conquerorsthrough him who hath loved us. "

And as life glided by, bringing its inevitable portion of care andsuffering to each, no one of that band was ever sorry, as he looked backto the services of that bright September Sunday, that young hands andyoung hearts had then been laid trustingly into the hands of theirSaviour, and that they set out upon life's journey clad in theinvincible armor of faith. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

AFTERWARD. 

The soft, sweet summer-time had quite passed away. Bright autumn hadfollowed, with its glory of gorgeous leaves and piles of golden fruit. November's fierce blast had begun to toss the leafless branches, andThanksgiving day was at hand. 

Nearly three months had passed since our young friends had stood forthto receive the seal of their discipleship. Three months of testing timethey had proved to be--months in which the true attitude of the souls ofthose who had then presented their bodies as a living sacrifice mightbecome plain both to themselves and their friends. 

No greater mistake can be made than for young people to suppose that therecommendation of their Sunday-school teachers, their pastor, or eventheir parents, is an assurance that they are really fit subjects for aconfession of Christ. All these, it is true, are watching them, both intheir actions and in the tempers which they thus exhibit, as those thatmust give an account for their souls; but only God can see theheart--only themselves can know whether they are sincere in theirpurpose to love and serve him. 

Young girls are very easily influenced. Often they come forward in thechurch because a good many of their companions are coming and they donot want to be left behind; sometimes because it makes them of temporaryimportance; and sometimes simply because of the transient excitement, without any thought of the solemn vows they are going to assume and thenew life which in the future they are to be expected to lead. And thisin spite of all the instructions given and the watchful care exercisedby pastor and friends. No wonder, then, that the first few months aftera public profession are anxious ones to all those who have had any partin smoothing the way thereto for their young friends. 

And yet, let no girl or boy be discouraged from taking a stand which isboth duty and privilege by these remarks. All that God demands of thosewho confess Christ--or, as it is popularly incorrectly called, "make aprofession of religion"--is _sincerity_ of heart and purpose; _sincere_sorrow, no matter how slight, for past sin; _sincere_ faith in thesacrifice of Christ, to atone for and forgive sin; _sincere_ purpose ofobeying God's commandments for the future, with _sincere_ consciousnessof weakness added to _sincere_ trust in the all-sufficient strength ofthe Holy Ghost. Every boy or girl old enough to think is capable of thissincerity; and thus every one is bound to obey the express command ofhis Saviour and confess him before men. 

But, of course, if the confession be not sincere, in a very short time, when the novelty and excitement have worn away, the interest in sacredthings will wear away also, and very soon something will be said or donethat will be a dreadful disgrace to the confession thus carelessly orwickedly made. 

Still another mistake is often made by young people, and this is onecalculated to do great mischief, as it is often made by those who aresincerely desirous of serving God. For weeks preceding the open stepthey have devoted a great deal of time to meetings, prayer, andBible-reading, and their interest in these things has almost put secularones out of their heads. But when that long-anticipated day is over, they feel somehow that the end is reached, instead of looking on thisend as only the first step in a newer and better life. Other duties andinterests resume their relative importance. There are not so manymeetings to go to, Bible-reading becomes more hurried, prayers are lessfervent, and all at once the young communicant falls into some open sinand is filled with grief and remorse. 

Oh, if every boy and girl, every man and woman, who has been broughtinto outward and inward communion with Christ, would only realize thathe or she is to go _onward_, never ceasing to pray and strive againstevil; ever pressing on for more and more of the Holy Spirit; strivingeach day to be more and more like Christ, --then would be realized whatis meant by the words of the wise king: "The path of the just is as theshining light that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. "

"Don't you think it would be nice to have a Harvest Home Festival forthe Sunday-school on Thanksgiving?" said Etta Mountjoy to her brotherand sister one autumn afternoon. 

"I never saw one, " said Eunice, whose duties as housekeeper had kept herrather closely confined at home for some years. 

"Oh, I have. When I was at Altona last fall, the church was decoratedwith grain and grasses and fruits, and even vegetables. It was justlovely!"

"I should think it might be, " said James; "and I don't see why we shouldnot have one if Mr. Morven has no objection. But it will be a good dealof work to carry it through successfully, and I hate that sort of thingwhen it's a failure. "

"I don't mind work, " said Etta. "I want something to do--something forthe church, I mean; and the girls do, too--something to take the placeof our readings and talks. Sometimes I wish it were not all over, butthere were something still to look forward to. "

"Do you mean that you are sorry that you are really admitted to thecommunion of the Church, and have openly placed yourself on the Lord'sside?"

"No! Of course not, " said the girl, blushing. "But things are gettingflat. I want something new; you know I always did. "

"Yes, " said her brother; "we all know, Etta. But, seriously, I trust mylittle sister will never be tired of the blessed service and fellowshipinto which she has been so recently admitted. You know what is writtenabout those who put their hands to the plow and look back. "

"Oh, I don't mean to look back; I don't want to. I'd rather belong tothe church and work for Christ than anything else in the world. What Iwant is work. Don't you see?"

"Well, dear, if you think you can manage the work I'll find the money, though I don't suppose it will cost a great deal. "

So it came to pass that those bright autumn Saturday afternoons werespent by Etta and her girls in the woods, where, with the aid of suchboys as could get away from their work, a store of scarlet, golden, andvariegated autumn leaves was laid in, with late ferns and hardybrackens, curious bits of moss, seed-vessels, and dried grass beingadded to the store. These were all taken to Mrs. Robertson's, whoselarge garret was offered for their reception and preservation, and aftertea the girls ironed and varnished the leaves which could not bedetached from the boughs, and pressed the smaller ones between theleaves of newspapers, which were collected for the purpose fromneighbors, the younger Sunday scholars who were not in the mill beingthus employed. 

Then, on Wednesday evening, at Miss Eunice's "tea-party, " which ofnecessity was held indoors, now that darkness came early and the nightswere chill, the girls of the two classes covered pasteboard stars, crosses, crowns, and monograms with leaves and mosses neatly stitchedon--bound rich yellow wheat stalks into sheaves, and made plumes andtassels of dried grasses and seeds. 

Merry chatter helped the work forward. Miss Eunice did not wish hergirls to look upon religion and the church's service as a thing ofgloom. She knew that God has "given us all things richly to enjoy, " andthat the way to hallow pleasure and prevent its being hurtful is "in_all_ our ways to acknowledge him. "

Moreover, these social, familiar talks, when every one was off herguard, afforded capital opportunities of studying character with a viewto affording to the young pilgrims such aid and advice as might beuseful to them in their heavenward journey. 

Of all the young work-women, Tessa showed the most taste and ingenuityin the grouping of leaves and arranging of ferns, and her beautifulcombinations constantly called forth the admiration of both companionsand teachers. The little Italian received their commendations verymeekly, but did not thereby escape exciting the jealousy of BertieSanderson, who, on putting together some very fiery leaves without anyattempt at toning down, received from Miss Eunice a few gentlesuggestions concerning shadow, high lights, etc. "It's too mean, " shewhispered to her nearest neighbor, as she took her seat, "that beggarfrom the poor-house gets more notice than all the rest of us puttogether. "

Her companion stared, for she was one of those girls who had almostmade up her mind to become a Christian, but had remained undecided tilltoo late, because she had an idea that a person could not dare to jointhe church till she was as holy as an angel. 

"There's Katie Robertson, too, " continued Bertie; "she'll be sure to bepraised, if her work's hideous. That's what it is to be a favorite. "

"Why, Bertie, " said the other, "you're real spiteful. I think Katie'sjust the nicest girl. Anyway, I couldn't talk as you do if I had joinedthe church. "

"But you ought to have joined the church because it was your duty, " saidBertie, who could very clearly see the mote in her sister's eye, inspite of the beam in her own. "You will be a Christian soon, won't you?It's so nice. "

"Not I. If religion don't make people better than you are, I don't wantanything to do with it; I'd rather stay as I am, " was the sincere, ifnot very polite, answer. And then Bertie's conscience awoke, and shebegan to see what harm she was doing. She was very uneasy all the restof the evening, and still more so when, at its close, Miss Eunice askedher to stop a few moments, as she had something to say to her. 

Miss Eunice had overheard the conversation we have recorded, and hadnoted the cross, spiteful expression of the girl's face, and had grievedmuch as she saw her Saviour thus "wounded in the house of his friends. "She spoke seriously to Bertie so soon as they were alone, and found thelatter already repentant and quite willing to acknowledge her fault. 

"But what am I to do, Miss Eunice? I _am_ jealous, and I _do_ feelhateful sometimes. I don't want to feel so, but I can't help it. If Ididn't speak, I should feel it all the same. "

"But, my dear, you have promised, in the most solemn way, to renounce'the devil and all his works. ' Pride, malice, envy, jealousy areemphatically works of the devil. "

"I know, Miss Eunice; and I thought it would be all taken away. Theminister in the city told us that Jesus is 'the Lamb of God, who takethaway the sins of the world. ' I thought if I came to him he would takemine away. "

"So he has, so he will. Try to understand me. When he hung upon thecross he bore the penalty due to the sins of the whole world, and ofcourse to yours. In that sense he has already taken them away. But inanother sense, that of your daily life, your _character_, he will takethe evil of that away just as fast as you will let him. "

"Let him? How do you mean? I am sure I want to be good. "

"Yes, in a lump, altogether, you want to be good, very good; but withoutany trouble or self-denial. You didn't want to keep from saying thosespiteful things about Tessa and Katie a little while ago, or he wouldhave helped you do it. You didn't want the jealous, envious feelingstaken out of your heart _just then_, or he would have taken them. "

"How, Miss Eunice?"

"_Whatsoever_ you ask in prayer, believing, ye _shall_ receive, " saidshe. 

"But do you mean I ought to have kneeled down to pray then, just thatmoment, before all the girls?"

"It is not necessary always to kneel down when we pray; though it isbest to do so when we can. There are often times when our work wouldsuffer, or when we are so surrounded by others that it would beimpossible. But a few earnest words spoken in the silence of our ownhearts will always bring our strong, loving Saviour to our help; and wemay, _every time_, no matter what our temptations are, be 'more thanconquerors through him who hath loved us. '"

"Every time? Oh, Miss Eunice!"

"Yes, every time. You know we constantly ask the Lord 'to keep us eachday _without_ sin. ' How can we utter such a prayer in faith if we don'tbelieve that it can be granted?"

"Yes; but temptations are so sudden, and take you just where you're theweakest. "

"I know. And therefore we should be fully armed beforehand. Bertie, didyou read your Bible and pray this morning?"

"No!" said the girl, flushing. "I always mean to; but it's so dark inthe mornings now, and mill-time comes so soon. It's just as much as Ican do to get there in time, any way. "

"Yet you find time for your breakfast?"

"I couldn't live without eating. "

"Nor can you live spiritually without feeding daily upon Christ, throughthe study of his Word and prayer. I would sooner go without my breakfastthan without my early communion with him. Bertie, there are 'no gainswithout pains. ' If you are really desirous, as I believe you are, toovercome your own evil habits and tendencies, and grow to be likeChrist, you _must_ begin every day with prayer for his help; you mustwatch yourself and your surroundings, and in the moment of temptationyou must turn instantly to him who says that he is 'a very present helpin trouble, ' and who has promised to 'supply all our need according tohis riches in glory. '"

Poor Bertie! A hard fight was before her. Fourteen years of unresistedpride, jealousy, and ill-will had formed habits that were hard tobreak--fourteen years of caring for no one's pleasure but her own. Inbrief, fourteen years of worshiping herself had helped to form acharacter which would need a good deal of chiseling before it shouldgrow into an image of Christ. But he had undertaken the work. MissEunice had shown her how to avail herself of his offered help, and asshe took her teacher's advice, we may be sure that in the end she gainedthe victory. 

CHAPTER XX. 

A WARNING. 

So the short, bright autumn days and the long, chill evenings passedquickly and pleasantly away. All were busy and happy, and were beginningto find that in spite of conflicts and self-denials "wisdom's ways arepleasantness and all her paths are peace. " The preparations for theThanksgiving festival progressed rapidly, but before the time came toput the plans in execution a very terrible thing happened in Squantown. Faces turned white, voices were hushed, work was suspended at the mill, in the stores, and even upon farms. One home, where a loving motherbowed in deepest agony, was shrouded in gloom, while others were filledwith the sympathy of mourning. 

The Mountjoys first heard the news at Sunday-school, where Etta foundher class so full of the horror that they could attend to nothing else. The stories of the girls were confused, and differed as to details, buttheir teacher elicited from them the facts, which were as follows:--

Harry Pemberton, one of the best hands in the mill, one of thepleasantest young fellows in Squantown, so the grown-up girls thought, the very idol of the widowed mother who had only him, had gone out withsome companions on a Saturday night "spree" to a high cliff in theneighborhood. They carried with them a barrel of beer and some bottlesof whiskey, of which, however, the others drank but little. A foolishbet was made between him and one of the elder men, as to which coulddrink the most "lager, " and the others, soon tiring of the contest, leftthe two with the bet still undecided. The sequel was involved inmystery, for the other man, who was a stranger in the place, haddisappeared, and when the bright autumn sun shone out on Sunday morning, it showed to the early passers-by the dead body of poor Harry, bruised, broken, and disfigured, at the foot of the cliff. Whether the beer theyhad taken made him and his companion quarrelsome and he was pushed overin a fight, or whether Harry, stupefied, fell asleep on the edge androlled over in his unconsciousness, was never known. The boon companionnever came back to testify, and the coroner's jury brought in a verdictof "accidentally killed. "[2]

On Wednesday the mills were closed, that all might have an opportunityof attending the funeral services, which were intensely solemn andimpressive. Harry had at one time been a member of Mr. James'sBible-class, and during the recent religious interest his former teacherand employer had more than once urged upon him to break away from theevil companions and bad influences by which he had allowed himself to besurrounded, and take his stand on the Lord's side, finding in the churchand its associations help to become a noble and good man. At one time hehad seemed to be almost persuaded, and his friend had great hopes ofhim, but his companions and their influence had proved to be too strong. He had gone back to his evil ways, trusting, perhaps, to "a moreconvenient season, " which, alas! never came to him. 

The clergyman detailed these facts to his hearers, among whom were, ofcourse, all the young men of the place; and while delicately avoidinghazarding any suggestions as to the present or future condition of theirunfortunate companion, pressed upon all present the importance ofcalling upon the Lord "while he may be found, " and the awful risk ofdelay. 

"No one could have supposed, " said Mr. Morven, "when poor Harry trifledwith the most important of all questions, his soul's salvation, and putoff his final decision till some 'more convenient season, ' that thatseason would never come to him. "

Of all the young men of Squantown he had seemed the least likely to besuddenly called into eternity. Yet he had been, in a condition, too, inwhich any one would least like to be found when called suddenly to standbefore God and answer for the deeds done in the body. Who would becalled next? Was that one all ready? Therefore, he once more urged uponhis hearers, "Prepare to meet thy God. " Nor did the earnest pastor failto draw attention to the lessons concerning the use of intoxicatingliquors, in any form or degree, which the occasion so plainly afforded. It was not as an habitual drunkard that Harry Pemberton met his fate, nor was it from the use of what is usually denominated "strong drink. "Lager beer, considered and spoken of by many as "a temperance beverage, "was responsible for the mischief, and the thoughtless joke of carelessyoung men had hurried one of them, known to all present as a boy ofgreat promise, uncalled into the immediate presence of God. Perhaps abetter object-lesson for total abstinence could not have been found, since it is the occasional drinkers, who are not as yet bound by thechains of almost irresistible habit, to whom alone such an appeal can bemade with any prospect of success. Poor Harry had been precisely one ofthese, and probably no young man in Squantown had considered himselffarther from meeting death as the result of intemperance. 

This sad and sudden death made a great impression upon James Mountjoy. Always a perfectly _temperate_ man, as became an earnest, devoted youngChristian, he had never been known as a _temperance_ man, that is, anadvocate of total abstinence principles, and an active worker in thecause. But he now was deeply impressed with his responsibility and dutyin this respect; and accustomed to turning good impressions at once totheir legitimate results, --good actions, --he, with his father's fullconsent, called a meeting of all the men connected with the mill, thatnight, and presented to them a total-abstinence pledge, which he was thefirst man to sign. 

"I have always, " said he, "been opposed to such pledges. I thought aChristian communicant might be trusted to use all these things inmoderation, and that it was, somehow, an undervaluing of his churchprivileges, to say nothing of his manhood, to bind himself by anythingelse. I will confess, also, to having occasionally enjoyed a glass ofwine or champagne. But I have completely changed my mind. Who knows whatmight happen to me, in some unguarded moment, if I should continue totamper with that which is in its very nature a deceiver? But, evensupposing I were to escape all evil consequences, some one weaker orless favored than I am might be influenced by my example to take thatwhich would injure him in body or soul. St. Paul said he would 'eat nomore meat and drink no more wine while the world standeth, ' if it shouldcause his brother to offend, so I have resolved that not another drop ofanything that can intoxicate shall ever pass my lips, and if it will beany help for any of you to make or keep to a similar resolution, I willbe the first to 'sign away my liberty, ' as pledge-signing is foolishlycalled. " And he wrote _James Mountjoy_ in clear letters at the head ofthe paper. 

A great cheer greeted the action, and many men and boys pressed forwardto follow their young employer's example. Elderly men they were, some ofthem, who had tried again and again to break off a habit which they feltto be injuring them and defrauding their families, and who found a greatmoral support in being thus associated with others, one of whom stood insuch relation to themselves. Others were young men who greatly admiredand emulated Mr. James, and who had heretofore justified themselves inacquiring a taste for whiskey on the ground that the young gentlemanwas known occasionally to indulge in ale and champagne. And still otherswere boys, who liked to do what their elders did, by way of appearingmanly, and whose adherence, given to the right side of the question, before they had had an opportunity of acquiring a taste for intoxicants, was a great gain on the side of righteousness. 

Eric and Alfred were among these latter, and though neither had as yetspent an evening away from home, nor, to her knowledge, knew the tasteof liquor, their mother, when she was told of it, gave hearty thanksthat another safeguard against evil had been thrown around her boys. 

Some of the men declined to sign the pledge, one saying in a surlymanner that he was not going to be coerced into doing a thing of thiskind. Mr. Mountjoy paid for his work, not his principles, and he shouldeat and drink just what he liked. To him James replied, pleasantly, thathe did not wish to coerce any one. Those who were conscientiouslyopposed to signing a pledge would, of course, not be expected to do so, but he had no doubt he should have the unanimous support of all presentin whatever efforts might be made to put down the growing evils ofintemperance. 

James Mountjoy never did anything by halves. He at once threw himselfearnestly into the temperance reform; supplied himself with books andpapers, and became thoroughly conversant with all phases of thequestion, wondering, as he did so, how as a Christian man he could solong have overlooked his duty in this matter. Resolved to do so nolonger, he at once commenced a series of temperance meetings, invitingspeakers and lecturers to come to Squantown and make the peopleintelligent total abstainers. He did not select so much men who werenoted for their fervid oratory, nor yet reformed drunkards who oftendivert their audiences with amusing accounts of their past performanceswhile under the influence of strong drink, but plain, common-sensebusiness men, who put before their hearers in simple terms the evilsthat the manufacture, sale, and consumption of alcohol work to thepurses, bodies, and souls of any community. 

He also added to the library at the factory reading-room a number ofvaluable works on the nature and effects of alcohol; and before thewinter was over had the pleasure of seeing a very marked change in thecondition of the factory people as the result of his efforts. 

-----[Footnote 2: An actual occurrence. ]

CHAPTER XXI. 

THE DO GOOD SOCIETY. 

Meanwhile the girls at Miss Eunice's tea-party had been busilydiscussing the funeral and its sad cause. 

"What an awful thing intemperance is!" said one of the elder girls. "Even women sometimes drink to excess; and how many others suffer fromits effects in their husbands and fathers. I wish we girls could dosomething to put it down. "

"You can, " said Etta. "If every girl in the land were to set her footdown against having anything to do with young men who drink, there wouldsoon be a change. I am resolved, " she said, in her old impetuous way, "never to associate with any young man, no matter how good or elegant hemay be, who even tastes wine occasionally. "

"That is a rash resolve, Etta, " said her sister, "and one that I fearyou will find it hard to carry out. Yet, what you say is right, in themain. Girls do not enough realize the great responsibility of theirinfluence over young men. "

"No, " said Agnes Burchard, with a sigh. And several remembered how muchshe had been seen with poor Harry and what jokes had been made abouttheir intimacy. "I always knew that Harry Pemberton drank occasionally;but I thought it manly, and like--like Mr. James. "

No one answered this rather unfortunate remark; but presently KatieRobertson said:--

"Don't you think, Miss Etta, people ought to begin with the boys--beforethey have learned to drink, I mean. "

"A good suggestion, Katie, since an ounce of prevention is said to bebetter than a pound of cure. How would you set about doing it?"

But Katie, having thus drawn all eyes upon herself, blushed, and did notfeel like speaking. So Miss Eunice came to her rescue:--

"We might organize some kind of a society, of which the boys and youngergirls could be members. It would be some trouble to keep it up, but itwould be directly in the line of that service to which you pledgedyourselves, girls, that bright first Sunday in September. "

"Delightful!" said Etta, to whom every new thing always seemed so. "Aboys' and girls' temperance society, with a pledge that they shall neverin their lives taste anything that can intoxicate. Then they will growup temperance boys and girls from the start. "

"There are two objections to pledging children--that is, very youngones, " said Eunice. "The first is, from the unwillingness often felt bytheir parents; and the other, that many of them do not fully understandwhat they are about, and as they grow older often break their pledge, onthe ground that they are not bound by a promise made when they were tooyoung to understand it. "

"Well, some of them keep it, and that's so much gained. "

"Yes; for them. But to break solemnly made vows is always an injury toone's character. Besides, if we make a total-abstinence pledge thecondition of joining our society, we shall not get the Irish boys, whomost need our work. Their parents will not let them come. Why not wordour pledge in such a way as to secure everybody's influence on the sideof temperance, without making it a personal thing? It will be sure toreact upon the individual. "

"I think there are some things that boys do besides drinking that arejust as bad--smoking and swearing, for instance, " said one of the girls. 

"And I think it's just as bad for girls to be hateful and unkind, " saidBertie, to the surprise of some who knew her, but did not know what abrave fight she was making to overcome her long-indulged faults. 

"Let's make it a pledge to be kind and thoughtful, " said one of thegirls. 

"Not to be vain, " said another. 

"And let's all belong, " said a third. "So the boys won't think we'rejust preaching to them. "

So the result of all the talk was that a meeting for all the children inthe place was held the first bright Saturday afternoon, Etta presiding, assisted by such of her girls as had finished their day's work at themill. It happened to be a bright afternoon, warm for the season, and noone felt any inconvenience in staying out of doors, where they sat ingroups around the lawn, while their young hostess explained the purposefor which she had called them together. 

"We know you all want to be good men and women, " she said; "brave, noble, and helpful. Our idea is not primarily to amuse you or make youhappy, but to help you to learn to be helpful and useful to others. Wewant to form among ourselves a society, whose object is to do all thegood that its members possibly can--not trying to have a good time, butto make somebody else happier and better every day. Who wants to joinus?"

Instantly every hand in the little group went up. 

"Yes, I thought so, " said the young lady. "But now I wonder who arewilling to take a good deal of trouble about it, and really putthemselves out of the way to make other people happy. Those who arewilling and mean to persevere not getting tired and giving up the wholething after a little while, may have the privilege of joining oursociety by signing their names to our pledge. "

She then read the following pledge slowly, pausing to explain every wordwhich might seem hard to be understood by the younger children:--

"We, the undersigned, pledge ourselves to be truthful, unselfish, cheerful, and helpful; to use our influence always for the right, andnever to fear to show our colors. We will always use our influenceagainst intemperance, the use of profane language or tobacco, disrespectto the old, ill treatment of the young or unfortunate, and cruelty toanimals. "[3]

Nearly all present were eager to sign it; those who could write theirnames doing so, and the others looking on with great satisfaction whiletheirs were written by some one else. Thus a society was formed which, for want of a better name, was called the "Do Good Society. "

Etta was unanimously elected president; four girls of her class werethe officers. Meetings were to be held the first Saturday in every monthin the Sunday-school room, on which occasions those present were toreport attempts at carrying out the principles of the society as well asall successes in doing so. 

To this society and its welfare Etta Mountjoy devoted herself, throwinginto its concerns the whole activity of her versatile nature; making itsmeetings so interesting, and imparting to it so much bright life andactivity, that it soon became the most popular institution in Squantown. 

The society's first meeting was held one week after its organization. Itwas raining softly, and the grass was damp and the air chilly; so thechildren, nearly a hundred of whom were present, were glad to come intothe shelter of the pretty Sunday-school room, and while swelling withthe importance of being "a society, " wait to see what "Miss Etta" woulddo when she came. The girls were getting a little restless, and the boyshad begun to drum rather impatiently upon the floor, when the young ladyappeared, carrying in her hand a curious-looking box with a slit in thetop and a basket mysteriously covered down, which she deposited on thedesk, not as yet answering the questions which were spoken by the manypairs of bright eyes before her. 

The first thing the president did was to tell the children that theymight sing "Hold the Fort, " which they did with such extraordinary forceand enthusiasm that they exhausted the excitement which was seethingwithin them, and sat quite still while the basket was unpacked and Ettatook from it a bottle of whitish-looking fluid, a clear glass goblet, and a pure white egg. Then she gave them a little temperance talk, reminding them of the sad death of poor Harry, which was known to themall, and telling them that even when people did not drink enough liquorto make them either stupid or quarrelsome, _any_ quantity of it takeninto the stomach injures it very much. 

To make them understand this she broke the egg-shell and dropped thewhite of the egg into the goblet, holding it up and showing them howsoft and clear it was. Then, uncorking the bottle, she told them itcontained alcohol, the substance that is found in all intoxicatingdrinks, even the weaker ones, such as wine and beer. 

"Now, watch, " she said; and as she poured two or three drops of theliquid into the glass the interested eyes saw the egg grow white andhard, and at last become tough and leathery. "This, " she said, "is justwhat happens when people drink anything that contains alcohol. The brainis a substance like the white of an egg. The alcohol acts upon it in thesame way it has acted upon the white of this egg--it _cooks_ it! Thebrain of a drunkard becomes _cooked_--tough and leathery. The man cannotthink as clearly as other men. His mind becomes degraded. " The childrenall expressed their astonishment, and after they had talked a littlewhile, their teacher said:--

"I am sure you don't want people to injure their brains in this way, andso you will be ready to keep that part of your pledge which says we will'use our influence against intemperance, ' of course. "

"Yes, yes!" was shouted out by dozens of voices, and many hands wentup. One boy said:--

"How about tobacco?"

"Oh, we'll talk about that next time. Now I want you to sing again, andthen we will investigate the contents of this box, " proceeding to unlockit as she spoke. 

When the second hymn was over Miss Etta drew out several folded papers, and handing; them to the secretary, who had come in since the beginning, asked her to read them aloud. 

"Remember, children, that neither you nor I know who wrote them. Theyhave no signatures. Perhaps some of the children wrote them themselves, perhaps they got their parents to do so. All we want to know is thatthey are accounts of how some of our members have tried to be unselfishand helpful to other people during the week that has past. I hope everymeeting we shall have a number of such papers to read. You can any ofyou write them, and slip them into this box, and our secretary will readthem to us. But be sure that you don't put any names to them and thatwhat you write is true. "

 PAPER I. 

Last Friday I was going home from school when I saw two big boys hitagainst an old woman, who was carrying along a heavy basket. I don'tknow whether they did it on purpose, but they both began to laugh as thebasket upset, and the apples which were in it rolled all over the road. I was just going to laugh too, the old woman looked so funny andhelpless, but I thought of our society, and I stooped down and picked upall the apples and helped carry home the basket. The other boys laughedat me and called me a baby. I wanted to swear at them dreadfully, but Iremembered what our pledge said about "profane swearing, " and I justheld my tongue. 

 PAPER II. 

Mother wanted me to take care of the baby while she got supper the otherafternoon, but I wanted to go in the woods with Allie and get nuts. I'dpromised her ever so long, and this was the last chance, it's so nearwinter. I was just going to say "No" to mother, and tell her babies werea nuisance, when I noticed how tired she looked, and thought how she wasalways doing things for all of us. Then I remembered our pledge, and Itook the baby and tried to be "cheerful and helpful" in amusing her, setting the table between whiles. And in the evening, mother said shedid not know how she could have got along without me, she had such aheadache all the afternoon, but now she felt quite rested. 

 PAPER III. 

Five of us girls are going to form a bee. We haven't much time, but wecan take one evening each week, and we're going to make skating-bags forour brothers and some of the other boys, so that they can keep theirskates clean and bright. We mean to hurry, so as to get them ready bythe first frosty weather. 

There were several other papers, but these specimens are enough to showthe kind of work the Do Good Society was engaged in, and the nature ofthe reports brought in from time to time. They were sometimes veryfunny, and Miss Etta felt a little inclined to laugh as they were read, but little by little they were educating the children to be unselfishand helpful, and that, next to being godly, is the best thing in theworld. 

-----[Footnote 3: Condensed from the pledge of the Lookout Legion. ]

CHAPTER XXII. 

THANKSGIVING DAY. 

The long-anticipated Harvest Home Festival arrived at last. AllWednesday evening, and far into the night, the boys were busy, underEtta's directions, in putting up the carefully prepared colored leafemblems, and arranging the grasses, fruits, and vegetables. Over everypointed window was a garland of variously colored grasses, mixed withbearded golden grain, and between each, one of the leaf emblems waslightly tacked to the wall. From each gas-burner depended a rusticbasket, made of twisted sticks dipped in a cheap solution of giltpowder, and filled with purple and white grapes, mixed with scarlet andgolden apples. Bouquets of ferns and grasses graced pulpit and baptismalfont. Against either end of the communion-table leaned a wonderfullyconstructed cornucopia, from whose capacious mouth seemed to be pouringout green squashes, yellow pumpkins, red and white beets, brownpotatoes, cabbages, cauliflowers, parsnips, and golden ears of corn, packed in with cereals and nuts. On the table itself was a mighty pileof all the fruits attainable so late in the season, and the decorationswere completed by a cross nearly six feet in height, composed entirelyof white everlasting flowers, placed in the window just above. 

It was great fun to arrange all these pretty things, and the fun mighthave degenerated into irreverence, but for the presence of Mr. Morven, who occasionally said a few words concerning the sacredness of theplace, and managed to give the whole affair the appearance of a happyservice of the Lord and his church, so that each boy and girl went awaywith a share of the gladness of those who work for God. 

The Thanksgiving congregation was an unusually large one. The mills wereclosed, of course, and many of the work-people who, perhaps, would havehesitated at the idea of spending their rare holiday time in a church, thought better of it when they remembered that doing so would certainlyplease their employer. Not a very worthy motive, certainly. But thereare many motives which draw people to the house of God, not all of whichwill bear close inspection. None the less, however, are they thusbrought under hallowed influences, and it may be that germinating seedwill be thus sown in their hearts, which the wayside birds will notquite carry away. 

The Methodists, who usually held Sunday services at the school-house, three miles off, held none on Thanksgiving day, and were glad of a goodopportunity to see and attend the pretty new stone church on the hill. Many of the neighboring families in the country round had city visitorscome to "spend Thanksgiving. " And more than all, the fame of the harvestdecorations had spread far and wide, so that curiosity helped to fillthe church to overflowing. Mr. Morven was glad of the opportunity toshow how religion claims a place even in our festivities and helps tobrighten all our joys. He was especially desirous that the children andyoung people should never look upon Christ's service as a thing ofgloom. He dwelt upon Thanksgiving day as an essentially nationalfestival, reminding his audience how it had originated when the Pilgrimfathers met at the close of the first year of their hard life among NewEngland rocks to thank the God, in whose name and by whose power theyhad laid the foundations of the new commonwealth on this side of thesea. Then he told how the observance had gradually spread from State toState; at first being appointed by the State Governor, on such day asseemed to him fittest. Till at last, the wise and lamented PresidentLincoln sent out a Thanksgiving proclamation, and appointed a uniformday for the whole, great, reunited people. 

"For what we are to give thanks, in addition to our great publicblessings, " continued the preacher, "each one of us must look into hisindividual life and surroundings to discover. These beautifuldecorations remind us of our indebtedness as a people for an abundantharvest, not only of the grains and cereals which support our lives, butalso of the delicacies which make that life one of rich enjoyment. But, my friends, this is Cain's sacrifice. Let us beware lest, as in hiscase, it take the place of Abel's, and we learn to care more for thethings of our perishing life than for those eternal glories to which thegreat sacrifice of which Abel's was typical is our only title. Formyself, as pastor of this church, I find special occasion forthanksgiving in the large number who have, during the past year, publicly given themselves to Christ, nearly all of whom, as I have everyreason to hope, have set out in earnest upon their heavenwardpilgrimage. These souls are a seal to my ministry among you, and forthem I gladly to-day render unto the Lord thanksgiving. An added causeof thanksgiving to me personally is the able and earnest corps ofassistants who are here holding up my hands. Surrounded by mill-ownerswhose first object is not so much money-making as the elevation of themen, women, and children in their employ; with Eunices and Louises, wholabor with me for the upbuilding of Christ's kingdom in young humanhearts, and with a society of little folks whose purpose is to followtheir Great Master by going about to do good, I feel myself wellsustained in my responsible position; and, as I look forward to thecares and duties of another year, I 'thank God and take courage. ' And nodoubt, as you look down into your own hearts and back on the events ofthe past year, you also see much cause for thanksgiving. Some of youremember how, when you tossed on beds of fever, God's presence rebukedthe death-angel and you came back to a new and, as we trust, a betterlife. Many of you know how, while the pestilence raged around you, bothyou and your loved ones were safe from his fiery breath. Others of youcan recall how, when the swift punishment that sometimes visits thosewho do not like to retain God in their knowledge and seek their ownpleasure rather than his service came among us, it was not your boy, your brother, your dear one who met with a fearful and sudden death. Even such of you as have been called to suffer during the year that isgone by, to resist temptation, to conquer sin, to mourn over loved ones, or to meet poverty and distress, know that, having received help of theLord, you continue unto this day. His strength has assured the hard-wonvictory, his presence has lightened the gloom, his hand wiped away thetear, his bounty fed the hungry. In all things he has more than kept hispromises, and I call upon you this day to

 "'Render unto the Lord thanksgiving. '"

The afternoon was devoted to the Harvest Home Festival, and a verypretty and successful service it was. 

Long before three o'clock the main body of the church was filled withparents, friends, and anxious spectators, many of whom had never beeninside of a church before. The front seats had been reserved for theSunday-school, whose members marched in singing as a processional:--

 "Come, ye thankful people, come, Raise the song of Harvest Home, "

at the close of which the whole congregation rose and sang:--

 "Praise God, from whom all blessings flow. "

A brief opening service followed, the infant class chanting the Lord'sprayer, the verses of Psalm lxv being read alternately by boys andgirls, after which Psalm cxxi--

 "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills"--

was sung by the whole school. 

The infant class then came forward, and standing in a group before thedesk recited each a text, which the superintendent called:--

 "Autumn Leaves from the Tree of Life. "

The verses were selected with great taste and care, and the little onesdid their part well. The following are some of those selected:--

 Exodus xxvi, 16. Leviticus xxii, 10. Psalms l, 19; cxlv, 14; cxxxvi, 1, 25. Isaiah lv, 10. 1 Corinthians x, 26. Hebrews xiii, 2. Revelations xix, 5. 

The very little folks here closed their part of the performance with a"Harvest Song, " in which they had been well drilled. 

Then the older classes arose and recited selected portions of Scripturein unison, class by class. 

Eunice Mountjoy's class gave "The harvest feast. " Deut. Xvi, 13-15. 

Etta Mountjoy's class: "The harvest fruits are the gift of God. " Psalmscxv, 10-15. 

James Mountjoy's boys: "Trust in the giver of the harvest. " Luke xii, 22-28. 

Another boys' class: "The harvest of the world. " Rev. Xiv, 13-17. 

Still another: "The harvest of the tares. " Matthew xiii, 37-43. 

And then the whole school sang:--

 "What shall the harvest be?"

Then the recitations commenced again. 

First class: "Men compared to fruit-trees. " Matt, vii, 16-20. 

Second class: "Different kinds of fruit. " Gal. Vi, 1-10. 

Third class: "The curse of unfruitfulness. " Matt, xxi, 18-20. 

Fourth class: "Danger of setting the heart upon earthly fruits. "Luke xii, 15-21. 

Fifth class: "Necessity of labor in harvesting. " Prov. X, 3-5. 

Sixth class: "Now, the harvest time. " John iv, 35-38. 

Whole school in unison: Psalm cl, entire. 

The festival was closed by the singing of the hymn:--

 "Praise to God, immortal praise, For the love that crowns our days, "

as the children marched back to the schoolroom. [4]

The whole performance was considered a great success. The superintendentand his young assistants received many congratulations, and the parentscarried their little ones home well satisfied with their share in theexercises. 

-----[Footnote 4: The above programme was actually carried out in a countryschool of the writer's acquaintance, and is given in full for thebenefit of others who may be inclined to try a similar festival. It may bevaried and prolonged by the introduction of poetical passagesconcerning autumn, etc. ]

CHAPTER XXIII. 

SERVICE. 

The first meeting of the "Do Good Society" had proved so successful thatanother was appointed for next week, at the request of the littlemembers. Mr. Morven came in and opened the meeting with a prayer thistime, after which he retired while the children were singing their firsthymn. Then the president read and explained the pledge again, and askedall who had not done so already to sign it, after which she againproduced the box with a slit in the cover, into which she asked everyone to drop the papers on which they had written whatever they wouldlike to have read to the society. 

There was a little tittering, a little rustling, some blushing, andconsiderable hesitation, after which a good many of the girls and someof the boys came up in a confused mass, and dropped some folded papersinto the box. 

"Now, " said Miss Etta, when all was quiet again, "I call upon thesecretary to read what is on these papers without the names, --for thatis the Bible way of not letting our right hand know what the leftdoes, --and if any of our little members, who don't know how to write, have anything to report to the society, they may get some of the biggerones to write it down for them. Here are some slips of paper and pencilsI have provided on purpose. "

Then there was another pause and some more rustling, whispering, andlaughing, and some more curiously written and folded papers were droppedinto the box. 

These are what the secretary read:--

 I. 

I was coming home from school one day when I saw old Mr. Kelly trying topush his wheelbarrow of potatoes up the hill. He looked so weak that Ithought I would help him, so I called Jim Byers, and we took hold of thewheelbarrow and wheeled it all the way to his door, where we emptied thepotatoes into a barrel and put them away in the cellar. It was greatfun!

"No doubt, it was, " said Miss Etta. 

 II. 

Kittie always calls me names when she gets mad, and I always used tothink of the worst I knew to call her in return; but I thought Iwouldn't since I belong to the Do Good Society. So the next time she gotmad, and began to call names, I said: "Don't, Kittie, dear, let's loveeach other. Here's a beautiful piece of lace to make a _fichu_ for yourdoll!" She hasn't called me names since. 

"Of course not; who could?" was the comment. 

 III. 

I met four boys with cigarettes in their mouths one day. They all tookoff their hats to me, but I looked the other way, as if I did not seethem. "Hallo, " said one of them, "--is getting stuck up. " "No, I ain'tstuck up; but I've promised not to encourage the use of tobacco. " Theboys all laughed at me, but they threw away the cigarettes, for allthat. 

"Who wouldn't be laughed at to accomplish such results?"

 IV. 

My sister will tag onto me, wherever I go. She wanted to go nutting withme and some other fellows. I was just going to tell her we didn't wantbabies, when I remembered the pledge, so I took her along. She picked upas many nuts as any of us. And she didn't cry a bit, even when she felldown and scratched her hand dreadfully. I sha'n't call her cry-baby anymore. 

 V. 

I work on a farm. The man I work for gives us beer sometimes. LastSaturday night he offered me some. I wouldn't take it. "Why?" said he. "Because I have promised to use my influence against the use of liquor. I can't drink it. "

 VI. 

Four of us boys have given up swearing. It's hard work, though, sometimes--we're so used to it. 

"Yes, it's hard work to give up any bad habit, " said Etta. "But God willhelp us if we ask him, and the sooner we begin, the easier it will be. "

 VII. 

I wanted to buy, oh, such a lovely book! But I spent the money forcrackers, and took them down to the poor little Ryans, whose mother isdead. I enjoyed seeing them eat them a great deal more than I shouldhave enjoyed the book. 

 VIII. 

I wanted to stay in bed awfully one morning. I do hate to get up! But Ithought about poor old Mrs. Payne, and how cold she would find it to getup and make her fire in the dark, so I jumped right out of bed, ran downto her cottage, made the fire, and set the tea-kettle over, and got backin time for breakfast, after all. 

 IX. 

I finished my work in the mill real early on Wednesday, because I wantedto be first at Miss Eunice's. But Jennie Ray is so slow that she nevergets through hers till the last minute, so I turned to and helped her, and we both got away at half-past five. I didn't get to Miss Eunice's asearly as usual, but Jennie did, a great deal earlier; so I didn't care. 

The following were from the little children:--

"I helped mother wash the dishes. "

"I set the table. "

"I took care of the baby. "

"I picked up apples. "

"I made the fire, " etc. Etc. 

 * * * * *

"These are all very little things, " said the president, as she detecteda smile upon the faces of some of the older girls and boys "But if theyare done really for the sake of 'doing good, ' and pleasing God, they arejust as great to him as the 'cup of cold water, ' which he says 'shallnot lose its reward. '"

"Here are some questions which were asked me last week after themeeting, " said Etta, as she finished reading the papers. "I wonder ifthe girls to whom I gave them have found answers. "

1. "Why is it wrong to drink beer?"

Several hands were raised and several answers given; such as:--

"Because it makes people drunk. "

"Because it killed Harry. "

Eric Robertson produced the following slip, which he had cut from apaper, and read it aloud:--

"Beer is regarded by many in this country as a healthy beverage. Let megive you a few of the ingredients frequently used in its manufacture. The adulterations most commonly used to give bitterness are gentian, wormwood, and quassia; to impart pungency, ginger, orange-peel, andcaraway. If these were all, there would be small need of warning theyoung against the use of beer on account of its injurious ingredients, but when there are added, to preserve the frothy head, alum and bluevitriol; to intoxicate, cocculus indicus, nux vomica, and tobacco; andto promote thirst, salt, --then indeed does it become necessary toinstruct and warn the innocent against the use of this poisonousbeverage. "

2. "Are cigarettes good for boys?"

No one answered, and Etta said:--

"Boys think it manly to smoke, but it isn't. It's very dirty and veryunhealthy. I heard of a little boy only twelve years old, who died verysuddenly, and when the doctors examined him after his death they foundthe coats of his stomach all eaten up with tobacco, and yet he had onlysmoked cigarettes. Cigarettes are made of a little tobacco, a great dealof cabbage-leaves, old leather, and dirty paper, with snuff and gingerand _strychnine_, a deadly poison, to flavor them. The oil oftobacco itself is rank poison. Two or three drops of it put on thetongue of a dog or a cat will kill it in a few minutes. Besides, thesmell of tobacco lingering in a boy's clothes or breath is very foul anddisgusting. And worse than all, the effect of smoking is to create athirst which pure, cool water does not satisfy, and those who begin bysmoking or chewing tobacco are very likely to end by drinking beer andwhiskey, and finally becoming drunkards. "

Then questions to be answered at the next meeting were called for, andthe following were given:--

1. Is it wrong to wear pretty clothes?

2. Why shouldn't people be selfish?

3. Is it swearing to say "good gracious!" and "mercy on us!"?

Miss Etta did not answer these, but wrote them down in her note-book, saying she would look up the subjects by the next meeting, and shewanted the members of the "Do Good Society" all to do the same, and thenthey could compare their answers. 

The last part of the programme to-day was the reading of a story by thepresident. She half-read and half-told about a young man named HarryWadsworth, who, although he was only a clerk in a railroad company, managed, by giving all his spare time and thought, to do so many kindthings for other people, that when he died they all set about to honorhis memory by each doing kind things for others, and others againfollowed their example, till thousands of people were all busy inhundreds of different places, doing just as much as they could to helpother people and to discountenance everything evil, and to throw theirinfluence on the side of everything good. 

Harry Wadsworth had four mottoes, which they all adopted. They were:--

 "Look out and not in. "Look forward and not back. "Look up and not down. "Lend a hand. "

Miss Etta also told them that all sorts of clubs and societies, chieflycomposed of children, had grown out of this story, and that they werecalled by different names; such as, "Wadsworth Clubs, " "Lend a HandSocieties, " "Look Out Guards, " and "Look Up Legions. "

One of these Wadsworth clubs, a class of great, rough, overgrown boys ina New York mission school, had supported a sick companion for a wholewinter out of the savings of their own scanty earnings. Another, a groupof rich Boston girls, kept three or four families of poor childrenconstantly dressed in the clothes which they made themselves. A thirdhad originated the idea of sea-side homes for sick city children. 

"Our Do Good Society is to be like one of these, " she said; "only wemust have for our motive something higher than just kindness to otherpeople. We must do good for Jesus' sake; because he does good to us andbecause we want to please him by doing good to his other children. And, boys and girls, we sha'n't be doing it the right way at all, if we arethe least bit proud of what we do and take any glory to ourselves aboutit. We can not even think any good thing without the aid of the HolySpirit; certainly we can not perform any righteous action. So we mustalways remember to ask for his presence, his direction, and hisstrength, and in this, as in all our other ways, acknowledge him. "

The Do Good Society set in motion a good many other things; for theyounger members, who had more time at their disposal, began to conceivea passion for performing helpful acts, and they ferreted out cases ofdistress which were often far beyond their power to relieve, but whichthus got into the right hands. 

For instance, when the children reported the case of thepoverty-stricken Ryans, Miss Eunice set her "tea-party" to work to makea set of clothes for the unexpected twin-baby, for whom there was noprovision, and sent a strong poor woman, whom her father paid, to takecare of the helpless little ones till some better and more permanentarrangement could be made. When the boys found Harry Pemberton's motherwithout "oven wood, " which the strong arms of her unfortunate boy usedto prepare, they set about to gather and cut up enough to last her allwinter; and in doing so made the further discovery that she had neithertea, sugar, nor flour in the house. This they reported at the nextmeeting of the society, and the result was that abundance of provisionsof all kinds found their way into the poor old widow's dwelling, and shewas well cared for the short remainder of her sad life. Even BertieSanderson caught the infectious enthusiasm, and devoted the money sentby her city aunt to get her a velvet hat and feathers, just like hercousins, to procuring a warm woolen dress and hood for a little girl inthe neighborhood, who could not go to school without it. She wore herold felt all winter with content that would have been impossible a yearago. 

Many opportunities of doing good offered themselves as the winter cameon and sped away. There was what is called a crisis in the paper trade. A great deal more had been manufactured than could possibly be used, and no new orders were coming in. All that Mr. Mountjoy could do was togo on making paper in the hopes of selling it in better times. But as nomoney was coming in, it was hard to find enough with which to pay somany work-people. Many mill-owners closed their factories at once, thusthrowing hundreds of workmen who had families dependent upon them out ofemployment. Mr. Mountjoy was advised to do this, but he could not bearto be the cause of so much suffering, and his son would not hear of it. 

As the only other thing that was possible, he called them all togetherone day at the close of the day's work, and explained the situation tothem, asking them if they would rather accept a much lower rate ofwages, or have the mill close altogether and go elsewhere in search ofwork. 

There were some blank looks as men and women thought how hard it hadbeen to live at even the present rate of wages, but when the young manshowed them that even his proposal was only possible at a greatsacrifice to himself and the family, there was not a murmur. Everybodyaccepted what must be, and though as the winter went on there was muchpoverty and privation, there was no bad feeling, no signs of thatterrible desolation, so dreaded at such times--a strike. 

The Mountjoys dismissed all their servants but one, the three daughterscheerfully doing each a share of the housework, and assisting in thepreparation of broths, gruels, and other things needed for the sick andpoor, who greatly missed the higher wages which their natural protectorshad been earning. Neither girl bought a new article of wearing apparel, and Etta decidedly declined to make her usual winter visit to the city, saving thus a considerable sum of money and much still more valuabletime for the blessed service to which she had devoted herself. 

And so the storm was weathered, and when work recommenced in the springwith even better prospects and at the old rates of remuneration, everyone was glad; but no one had really suffered, thanks to the "Do GoodSociety" and the consecrated hearts that were faithfully endeavoring toacknowledge God "in all their ways. "

CHAPTER XXIV. 

EDUCATIONAL. 

With so many interests to fill her leisure hours, as well as such apleasant and restful home, our little Katie continued to bear theconfinement and hard work of the mill better than her friends hadexpected she would. Though she grew rapidly taller, she did not becomeeither pale or thin. She continued to like her work, and became more andmore of a favorite, both with her companions and her employers. Theaffair of the fifty-dollar bill had been thoroughly explained, and for atime Katie was looked upon quite as a martyr heroine. She was a littlein danger of being spoiled by the attention she received, and but forthe remembrance of how nearly she had yielded to the temptation to dowrong, her Christian character might have been seriously injured. 

Poor Bertie, however, had a hard time of it when she first went back tothe mill. Of course, it had been impossible to right her companionwithout implicating herself, and it was hard for her to meet thesignificant looks and tones of some of the other girls, who did notbelieve in the new saintship and did very much despise the old maliceand deceit. 

Although forgiven for the guilt of her sin, the poor girl had to findthat she could not avoid all its punishment. No one can; and though Godmay forgive us freely for the sake of his dear Son, and give us a newheart or a new purpose of action, we shall still have to suffer many ofthe consequences of the wrong we have done, and it can never be quite asthough we had never sinned, which fact it would be well to remember_before_ we are led into evil. 

Many a time the poor girl, quite unaccustomed to control herself, wouldalmost break out into some furious response to an unkind word or impliedtaunt, and remember just in time that she was pledged to the Lord'sservice and must not disgrace his cause. A swift, silent prayer for helpthen would always bring the promised aid of the Holy Spirit, and so bydegrees Bertie learned to conquer herself and to lead others to seethat her repentance was sincere and her faith genuine. Katie'sfriendship was a great blessing to her at this time. Katie had entirelyforgiven her treacherous friend's part in the affair which had causedher so much sorrow. She remembered only her dangerous illness, and thatthey were both now fellow-Christians and members of the same church. Shewas anxious to do all in her power to help Bertie in her struggleagainst the sins of her heart and the bad habits of her life, and, as isapt to be the case when we forgive and try to help any one, she sooncame to love her very much. And this friendship and support served, morethan anything else, to reinstate Bertie in the good graces of the othergirls. 

It was stated some time since that Mrs. Robertson had other plans withreference to her family of girls and boys, which she intended to put inoperation when the long winter evenings came. This was the formation ofa class for regular study, of at least one or two of the branches whichher own children had attended to at school. But these plans wereafterward merged in those of the young manufacturer. 

The mill-girls, although they had generally had fair common-schooladvantages before they commenced work, were, of course, from that timetotally deprived of them. They knew how to read, write, and "doexamples" in the simpler rules of arithmetic. Perhaps this would bequite education enough for those girls who are to pass their lives infactories of the older world. But it is not so in America, whereeverybody reads and everybody thinks, where no one is stationary, noposition permanent--where the operative of to-day is the employer ofto-morrow--where many a girl steps from a position of toil and honorableself-support into that of mistress of a mansion, and is called todispense a hospitality which in other lands would be called princely. Inour as yet unsettled mode of existence, education is the one thingneedful, because education is the only thing of which the "chances andchanges" of life can not strip us--the only thing which will adaptitself gracefully to any position, from the cottage and tenement-room tothe presidential chair. 

Eunice and James Mountjoy had often talked over the loss of educationaladvantages to which boys and girls entering the mill at so early an agewere of necessity subjected, and this winter they took their youngestsister into confidence. The result was the commencement of a "nightschool, " held, however, from four o'clock till seven. The mill was nowonly working three-quarters time, so these three hours remained to befilled up, and no one objected to putting off supper an hour for thispurpose. 

The school-house did double duty--the day scholars departing just as themore advanced classes assembled, and the trustees gladly gave the use ofthe building for so beneficent a purpose. But it was not to be expectedthat the poor young overworked teacher could do double duty too. Shewas, in fact, only a girl, not much in advance of the "night scholars, "either in age or acquirements, and well calculated to profit with themby superior advantages. Another hired teacher was not to be thought of, for the school committee were not entrusted with spare funds, and theMountjoys, who might have furnished a teacher's board and salary uponordinary occasions, were this winter taxed to the utmost strain theirfinances would bear. 

In this dilemma Etta made the startling proposition of becoming teacherherself. 

"You!" said Eunice, in astonishment. For to her, her sister alwaysseemed the little child whom her dead mother had confided to her care. "You're not old enough. I thought of offering myself, but really myhands are full, I can't do another thing. "

"I should think not, " said James. "You do everything for us all. Youneed four hands for what you do already. But why should not Etta? Youdon't need her help in the afternoons, and surely she ought to becompetent. "

"I am afraid"--

"I know, " broke in the girl. "You are afraid I will get tired of it, anddrop it as I have done so many things. You've a right to think so. Butyou know I have a new motive and a new strength now. Eunice, what is theuse of my superior education, if I can't do something with it for theLord? It seems to me that this is one of the 'ways' in which I can'acknowledge him. ' Won't you let me try it?"

"If papa will consent, " said her sister. And that settled it, as theyall knew; for Mr. Mountjoy always consented that Etta should do exactlyas she pleased. He only stipulated that her brother should always be onhand to bring her home, as during the winter months the school would notbe over till after dark. 

Etta proved--as all knew she would prove--a very efficient andinteresting teacher. It was quite amusing to her brother, when hesometimes came for her half an hour before school was over, to see thequiet dignity with which she kept the great rough boys in order. But thework soon became too much for her alone. The "night school" grew intosuch a popular institution that it had more pupils than one person couldproperly attend to in the short space of three hours. So Mr. Jamesarranged his time at some personal sacrifice to himself, and managed totake some of the classes. While, to the great astonishment of all, Rhoda, the middle sister, came out of her shell sufficiently tovolunteer to give drawing lessons to such of the boys and girls asshould show any decided talent or inclination. There is somethingcontagious in beneficence. Those surrounded by its atmosphere are sure, sooner or later, to take the infection. Of course this school was betterfor the children than any plan of Mrs. Robertson's devising could havebeen, and her whole family were among its most enthusiastic andenergetic members. Gretchen learned to write English, and Tessa to readand care for better things than sentimental fiction. And Eric, while faroutstripping her in his studies, seemed to find great pleasure inassisting in hers, helping her over difficulties, and carrying her booksto and from the school. But by far the brightest of the scholars wereKatie and Alfred Robertson. They both learned so easily, and exhibitedso much enthusiasm in the pursuit of knowledge, that once EuniceMountjoy said to Mrs. Robertson:--

"It seems almost a pity that your children should be obliged to performmill-work. My brother says that Alfred shows quite an uncommon tastefor natural science, especially chemistry. And I think our little Katiewould, after a few years' study, make a capital teacher, and you knowshe would make a great deal more money in that way than she ever can inthe mill, with much less expenditure of time and strength. "

"Yes, " said Mrs. Robertson, with a sigh. "I never thought that myhusband's children would have to work for a living. "

"Working for a living is not degrading, Mrs. Robertson. The doctorhimself did that. "

"Of course. But he did it as a gentleman--not in a mill. "

"My father and brother, too, earn their livings in a mill, and neitherthey nor we feel at all degraded by it, " said Eunice, quietly. "Only, ifyour boy has talents which will fit him for a profession beneficial tothe human race, like that of his father's, it seems almost a pity thatthey should not be cultivated. Depend upon it, self-support is alwayshonorable, for man or woman, and we should consider our work high orlow, not because it is considered 'genteel' or not, but because it doesor does not do the most good. I wish that something could turn up tohelp both Alfred and Katie to better educations, for I believe theymight thus do a great deal more good. "

And Mrs. Robertson wished so too. But she was wise enough not to sayanything to her children about it. 

Better things were in store for the children, however, than theirmother's heart had dared to hope for; and for once she felt thoroughlyashamed of her murmurings and want of faith. One evening toward spring, when the merry group came from school more noisily than usual, and, asusual, greatly in want of their delayed supper, they were all slightlyastonished to see a light in the window of the seldom-used sitting-room. They noticed, as they went in, a strange hat in the hall. 

"What can your mother be doing in the best room?" said Tessa, as she andKatie reached their own room. 

Tessa was always inquisitive, and the sight of a strange man's hat hadgreatly excited her curiosity. 

"I am sure I don't"--but at that moment the girls were interrupted byAlfred, who rushed in without knocking, and shouted, though quite out ofbreath with excitement:--

"Katie! Katie! Mother wants you! Come quick! Who do you suppose is here?It's Uncle Alfred--all the way from California! Isn't it splendid?"

"I didn't know we had an uncle in California, did you?" said Katie. 

But there was no opportunity for her brother to answer, as by this timethey had reached the parlor door, which stood open now, and bothchildren were warmly embraced by a gentleman whom at first neither ofthem could see. 

"What an old man I must be, " said the gentleman, as he released them, "to have three such grown-up people for nephews and nieces! And it seemsonly the other day since Eric and I, and you too, Linda, were no bigger. Yet they were all born after I went away. Such a little time!"

"But many sad things have happened since then, Alfred. It seems to me avery long time since your brother Eric went away never to come back, and left me to battle with the world with no one to help me feed andeducate his children. "

There was a slight tone of reproach in the widow's tone as she saidthis, but the returned brother did not seem to notice it, as he saidreverently:--

"No one but God. You would have told me in the old days when I didn'tbelieve it or care for it that you could not have a better or moreefficient friend; and now that I do believe it, I am sure that you havefound it true. "

"Yes, I have, " said the mother, looking with thankful pride upon herwell-grown boys, and bright and healthy, if diminutive, little girl. "God has been very good to us, and I have every reason to think well ofhis protecting care. "

"And the children, " said their uncle, "have they too learned to trust intheir Saviour and do his will?"

"Eric and Katie have. Alfred is, I am afraid, a little too much like hisuncle of old times. "

"I am sorry to hear that. He loses so much of the joy of youth and thestrength of growing up into true manliness. I hope he will never havecause to be as sorry as his uncle is that he did not give his Saviour'the kindness of his youth. ' But we will have plenty of time to talkabout all these things by-and-by. Just now I am as anxious for my supperas these young folks must be. I remember of old, Linda, what a goodsupper you can give a hungry traveler, and I don't suppose I need aninvitation. "

"Why, no!" said his hostess, with a little flush of embarrassment. "Onlyyou must prepare yourself for a somewhat large tea-party, and not of avery aristocratic kind. For, you know, I keep a sort of factoryboarding-house. "

"One who has camped with California miners is not likely to be veryfastidious, " said Mr. Robertson. "But I suspect if your boarders arecompanions of this niece of mine, they will be good enough company forme. "

CHAPTER XXV. 

OUT INTO THE WORLD. 

"So you wouldn't like to be my little girl and go to school and beeducated for a lady, " said Mr. Alfred Robertson to his niece, a few daysafter he had made his unexpected appearance among his relatives. 

"I'd like to go to school and study, of course, " said Katie. "Uncle, don't think me very rude or ungrateful, but I wish you would sendAlfred. "

"Why, rather than yourself?"

"Because Alfred is a boy, and he wants to be a doctor like father. Henever told mother, because he thought it would make her feel badly. Heknew she hadn't any money to send him to school or college, so he justworked on at the mill, though I know he hates it. "

"But, little girl, it would cost a great deal of money to send a boythrough college and support him while he was studying a profession. Haveyou thought of that?"

"I don't know, sir. I don't know much about money. You are not richenough to do it then? I'm so sorry, " and there was a tone of greatdisappointment in the young voice. 

"I am rich enough perhaps, but"--

"Oh, sir! Alfred would be sure to pay it back as soon as he became adoctor. I could begin to pay you now. I make six dollars a week in themill as it is, and I could make more if mother would let me work overhours. Alfred wouldn't like to take charity, and I wouldn't like to havehim. "

Her uncle laughed. "So it is because she is an independent little piecethat she does not want to go to school and learn to be a lady, " said he. 

"I'd like very much to learn to be a _teacher_, " said she. "Miss Eunicethinks that teachers can do a great deal of good, and I could make moneyto help mother with, just as well or better than I can in the mill. "

"Well, you shall go to school on your own terms. You shall have theeducation anyway, and do what you like afterward. And since you are sovery independent, I will lend you the money and you may pay it all backto me when you begin to make your fortune by school-teaching. Is it abargain?"

The little girl blushed with delight, threw her arms around her kinduncle, giving him a kiss by way of thanks, and rushed off to tell herwonderful news to her mother. But she found it was not quite such newsas she expected it to be. Mr. Robertson and his sister-in-law had talkedit all over after the little folks were in bed, and he had definitelyoffered to give the two children the education which their mother had sogreatly desired. He had amassed considerable property during hisseventeen years' sojourn in California, and having no children of hisown, was anxious to make up to those of his brother for his longneglect. 

"I never thought anything about my duty toward them, " he said, "untilGod brought me to myself, and showed me what a sinner I was, and thenbrought me to himself, and showed me what a Saviour he is. Then I beganto remember all my neglected duties, and I determined to come home andatone for the past as soon as I could. "

The proposal of sending Eric, also, to school had been made to him. Buthe gratefully declined. He was almost a man now, and was used to hiswork and liked it. He stood well with his employers, and hoped beforemany years to rise to the position of superintendent of one of thedepartments. His one great ambition was to become such a manufacturer asMr. James. And in the meanwhile he would be at home to watch over hismother and contribute to her support. His uncle admired his pluck andindependence, and did not press his offers farther upon him. Alfred wasdelighted. It was as Katie had said: he had endured the bindery becausehe must, and he was a boy of too good principles to worry over theinevitable, or to make people unhappy because of his likes or dislikes. But, all the same, he had disliked his work, and longed to do somethingmore in accordance with his tastes. Only to Eric and Katie had heconfided his indefinite longings, and his mother had never guessed howmuch he had desired a change. Now he was full of plans for the future;looking forward especially to the days when he should restore hisfather's sign to its old position, fit up the house and office as itused to be, and support his mother in ease and comfort once more. 

But that was a long way off. A great deal of hard studying had to bedone first, and Alfred was far behind other boys of his age--in bookknowledge, at least. Perhaps he had, during his three years' experiencein the factory, learned a good deal which would eventually prove veryuseful in a profession which dealt with practical details of practicalthings. About one thing he was quite decided. Delicate little Katieshould never again work for her living. When she left school she shouldbe a lady, like Miss Eunice and Miss Etta at the great house, and idleall day long if she chose to do so. 

"But I don't choose, " laughed Katie. "Do you think an independent younglady, who has made her own living for more than a year, will everconsent to be dependent upon any one, even if he is her brother?Besides, who wants to be idle? I am sure Miss Eunice isn't idle; norMiss Etta, now. They are both as busy as they can be all the time; andMr. James, too. Think how much good he does, and all of them!"

"Oh, if you mean _that_ kind of work! Miss Eunice and Miss Etta don'tget paid for what they do. They don't work for a living. "

"I think they do, " said Mr. Robertson, who had listened quietly to thetalk of the children. "I think that every noble, honorable man and womanworks, and is glad to work, for a living. The old saying that 'the worldowes us a living' is a very fallacious one. The world doesn't owe usanything, and God does not either. Indeed, he has said: 'If any man willnot work, neither shall he eat. '"

"Everybody does not work--for money, I mean, " said Alfred. "Some peopleare gentlemen and ladies. "

"If you call idlers gentlemen and ladies, we do not agree as to terms;but if you mean, as I suppose you do, that some people, especially alarge proportion of women and girls, do not formally receive a definiteamount of money for a definite amount of work, that is true. Don't youthink, though, that mothers and sisters and wives, who keep house, takecare of little children, do all the family sewing, care for the sick, and attend to the many details of a woman's life, work?--yes, do a greatdeal of work for a very small amount of living? Think of your mother fora moment. "

"Yes, sir; I see. "

"And, " continued his uncle, "when ladies devote themselves faithfully togood works, Sunday-school work, work among the poor, teaching, etc. , they are as really working for their living as if they were in afactory. "

"It doesn't seem so. "

"No, it doesn't seem so, because we have wrong ideas about the nobilityof labor. If we really believed what the Bible says, --that the servantof all is the chiefest of all, --we should value work and workmen just inproportion to the use which the work they do is to the community and theworld. In that sense, Alfred, a doctor's work or a minister's work mightstand a little higher than a manufacturer's, a teacher's position bemore desirable than that of a factory-girl, because in all of theseprofessions there is more opportunity to do good to the bodies and soulsof men; and yet I doubt if any are in a position to do more good thanyour Mr. James Mountjoy and his family. And as to being gentlemen orladies, it is just as much your duty and just as possible to be those inthe rag-room as in a palace, should your lot be cast there. "

"It is not considered so genteel, " said Tessa, who had not quiteforgotten the teachings of her novels. 

"By whom? Foolish butterflies? or men and women of sense? Gentilitymeant, originally, gentleness: that gentleness which betteropportunities of education were supposed to give. But so much culture asthat is now within the reach of every one, and there is no reason why itshould not exist in the mill and the counting-room, the kitchen and thestore, as well as in the parlor and the library. "

"But after all, " said Mrs. Robertson, "there seems something low andsordid in working for money. "

"That is because we should not work for money--as the motive of work, Imean. If every one in the world were a Christian, and did the work whichcame to him to do, upon Bible principles, endeavoring to fulfil theprecept: 'Whether ye eat or drink or whatsoever ye do, do all to theglory of God, ' and accepted his living, small or great, from his hands, just as a little child accepts his from his father's hands, we shouldhear nothing about the degradation of service. Every one wouldconstantly say: 'Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?' And we should takeour daily bread, as well as all the pleasant things of our lives, thankfully from him who has given us all things to enjoy. "

Mr. Robertson was rather answering his sister and talking a little abovethe level of his auditors, but some of them understood and rememberedhis words. To Katie, henceforth work had an added dignity. It was raisedeven above the high level upon which she had thus far placed it, --thatof helping her mother, --and became something that she might do for Jesuswho had done, and was still doing, so much for her. She was quiteimpatient to enter upon those studies which were to fit her for futureusefulness, and many a time during her school life, when the novelty hadworn away and her energies might have flagged, she was stirred up tonew zeal and perseverance by the recollection of this conversation. 

To the other girls also this talk about work and compensation wasbeneficial. Perhaps they might have felt a little jealous at Katie'sapparent elevation above themselves, --even Christian girls have wrongfeelings sometimes, --but if factory-work could really be done to theglory of God as much as teaching could, there was nothing degrading intheir work, nothing aristocratic in Katie's. God had given her one kindof work to do, and them another--that was all. They could please him aswell as she; and he would give to all alike a great deal more than theydeserved. 

And now began a busy time in the doctor's old house. Brother and sistermust be fitted out for school with such wardrobes as they had neverpossessed in their lives before. Uncle Alfred's ready purse providedthese, but he was careful not to destroy the independent spirit of hisyoung relatives, and let them consider this as the first instalment ofhis loan. 

Katie left the factory at the close of the week, receiving with herusual weekly wages an extra five-dollar bill, as a testimonial from Mr. James for her uniform faithfulness and the good example she had alwaysset in the mill. 

"We are sorry to lose you, Katie, " he said, "but I am glad that you areto be advanced to better work and a wider sphere of usefulness. Whereveryou go, the prayers of Squantown Sunday-school will go with you, and Iam sure that you will always find, as you have done already, the truthof the words:--

"'Commit thy way unto the Lord, and he shall bring it to pass. '"

Nor did the pleasant incidents stop here. On the Wednesday following, Miss Eunice again invited all the girls of her sister's class to unitewith those of her own. There was no lesson that night, and very littlework done. All the brothers and friends, who usually acted as escorts, were invited to come to tea, and all the members of the "Do GoodSociety. " There was room for all, and all had "a splendid time. " Gameswere played, and songs sung, and everybody was made to understand thatthis was a farewell party in honor of Katie Robertson. 

At nine o'clock Mr. Morven came in, and, with a few pleasant andearnest words, presented the little girl with a beautifully bound Bible, to the purchase of which every one present had contributed a little. 

"I trust, " said he, "that our little Katie will make this book 'the manof her counsel, and the guide of her youth, ' in the new life upon whichshe is entering, and that, as the Saviour to whom she has consecratedherself will surely keep his promise 'never to leave or forsake her, 'she will be faithful 'in all her ways to acknowledge him, ' and grow ingrace as she does in knowledge. "

Then, calling his little congregation to join with him, the good pastorprayed that the dear Lord would guide and guard this lamb of his through"all the chances and changes of this mortal life, and finally bring herto his heavenly kingdom. "

And so, with loving kisses, and gifts, and solemn words of prayer, theysent Katie Robertson out into the world to meet its responsibilities. 

The next morning, in the early dawn, she and her brother set out withtheir uncle for the schools in which they were to be fitted for theirlife-work. And as these schools were a long way off, and the journeythither rather expensive, it was many months before Squantown saw themagain. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

CONCLUSION. 

And now we must draw our story to a close. The reader has becomeacquainted with its characters, and knows about the agencies for goodwhich are at work in the manufacturing town of Squantown, as well as theinfluences brought to bear upon the Christian development of our boysand girls. The machinery is all adjusted, the power is applied, thewheels are in motion--nothing can hinder continued and beneficent work, except the possible weariness in well-doing of any of the parts, and thefailure to look to God in faith for his promised strength, thus cuttingoff the connection with the source of all good things. So long asmanufacturers and operatives, teachers and scholars, pastors and peoplecontinue in all their ways to acknowledge God, this will not be thecase; and the manufacturing village will realize the scriptural idea:"Happy is that people that is in such a case: yea, happy is that peoplewhose God is the Lord. "

We may expect to look ahead and see the boys and girls with whom we areacquainted, growing up into good, useful, and happy men and women. Bertie Sanderson will, little by little, overcome her natural andacquired faults of character. Envy and malice have already receivedtheir death blow, vanity and idleness will follow in their train. Thehigher interests of Christian love and church-work will dwarf theimportance of dress and display, and Bertie will grow into a usefulgirl, faithful to, and contented with, her position--a help to hermother at home, a good example to Nina and the younger children. 

We may expect to see Gretchen growing into a strong, sturdy Germanwoman, sending home from time to time the savings of her earnings, whichwill help to make her far-off brothers and sisters very comfortable, thedeep, though quiet, force of her affections expanding themselves toembrace many others on this side of the sea. We may be sure that herconstant nature, upheld by divine grace, will never lose its hold ofthe Saviour who came to take care of her in answer to her Sunday-schoolteacher's call that Sunday evening when she seemed to be so near to theother world. 

We may hope to see the other members of Miss Etta's class, Miss Eunice'stea-party, and the "Do Good Society, " all growing wiser and better asthey grow older, and becoming more and more Christ-like as they followin his steps. And we may be sure that Etta Mountjoy, cured of hererratic moods and wayward temper, first by being anchored to the rock ofages, and then by the safeguards and helps which the church of Christthrows around its members, will be still foremost in leading the littlephalanx, her energy and enthusiasm insuring success in every good thingundertaken. She will find time for home duties as well as those of amore public kind, will be a right hand to Eunice as she continues on theeven tenor of her way, and the sunshine of home to her father andbrother James, until some good man discovers the sunshine and bears itaway with him to be the illumination of another circle and the centre ofanother home. 

We may see "Mr. James" still the considerate Christian mill-owner, conducting business on the strictest principles of integrity, andtreating his employees as though of the same flesh and blood as himself, for whose bodies and souls he is in some measure responsible. And whenat length Eunice drops the housekeeping into the hands of "Mrs. James, "we may be sure that she, as well as her husband, will continue to "honorGod with their substance" and "in all their ways acknowledge him. "

If we turn our prophetic gaze upon the Robertson family, we shall findthat the mother thereof is gradually exchanging her grumbling andforebodings of evil for hope and thankfulness at the success and goodprospects of her children, who are profiting largely by theopportunities afforded them by their uncle's kindness. 

While greatly missing her from her home, the mother does not feelKatie's absence as she would have done but for the girl boarders, who, while affording her both society and support, give her such ampleoccupation that she has little time to realize her loneliness or toindulge in fretfulness. Indeed, Tessa has already forestalled her futureposition, and become to the widow as a beloved daughter. The sweetnessand softness of the Southern girl fit her to take culture and refinementvery easily. She quickly assimilates with her surroundings, and modelsherself upon those she loves and admires--who are, in this instance, Katie Robertson and Etta Mountjoy. From the first, bold, bright Eric hasfelt the charm of her black eyes, and loved to listen to her soft, foreign accent, and it would not be surprising if, when he reaches theheight of his ambition, and becomes either superintendent of the binderyor first foreman of the mill, he should ask Italian Tessa to share bothhis name and his success. But that is a great way off. 

Katie is our first friend. With her character and fortune we have themost to do. It would be nice, did the limits of our volume allow, tofollow her into her new school-life, to see how her energy, industry, independence, and cheerfulness go with her, rebuking homesickness, andcausing her to make the most of every moment, and the best of everyadvantage. We should see that her path at school is not all strewn withroses, any more than was that at the mill; that different circumstancesbring different temptations and develop different traits of character. We might perhaps find that silly school-girls at first decline to admiton terms of perfect equality one who had "worked for her living, " andwas, in their not very elegant parlance, "nothing but a mill-girl. "Perhaps we might have to chronicle some lonely and sad hours inconsequence, and some rebellious feelings hard to be kept down. 

But Katie's life is in the keeping of One wise enough to arrange all itsdiscipline, "as it may be most expedient for her, " loving enough tosympathize with and comfort her in all times of sorrow and perplexity, and able with every temptation to make also a way of escape. 

So, guarded and guided, Katie Robertson will be able to live down allthat foolish and proud girls may say about her, and in the end become afavorite, not only with the wise, discriminating teachers, but also withwarm-hearted, if wrong-headed, companions. We believe that throughoutlife, as in its beginning, she will continue to "seek first the kingdomof God and his righteousness, " and that, as she daily endeavors "in allher ways to acknowledge him, " he will "give her the desires of herheart. "

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A. L. Burt's Catalogue of Books for Young People by Popular Writers, 52-58 Duane Street, New York

BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. By Lewis Carroll. 12mo, cloth, 42illustrations, price 75 cents. 

 "From first to last, almost without exception, this story is delightfully droll, humorous and illustrated in harmony with the story. "--New York Express. 

Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There. By LewisCarroll. 12mo, cloth, 50 illustrations, price 75 cents. 

 "A delight alike to the young people and their elders, extremely funny both in text and illustrations. "--Boston Express. 

Little Lucy's Wonderful Globe. By Charlotte M. Yonge. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "This story is unique among tales intended for children, alike for pleasant instruction, quaintness of humor, gentle pathos, and the subtlety with which lessons moral and otherwise are conveyed to children, and perhaps to their seniors as well. "--The Spectator. 

Joan's Adventures at the North Pole and Elsewhere. By Alice Corkran. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "Wonderful as the adventures of Joan are, it must be admitted that they are very naturally worked out and very plausibly presented. Altogether this is an excellent story for girls. "--Saturday Review. 

Count Up the Sunny Days: A Story for Girls and Boys. By C. A. Jones. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "An unusually good children's story. "--Glasgow Herald. 

The Dove in the Eagle's Nest. By Charlotte M. Yonge. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "Among all the modern writers we believe Miss Yonge first, not in genius, but in this, that she employs her great abilities for a high and noble purpose. We know of few modern writers whose works may be so safely commended as hers. "--Cleveland Times. 

Jan of the Windmill. A Story of the Plains. By Mrs. J. H. Ewing. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "Never has Mrs. Ewing published a more charming volume, and that is saying a very great deal. From the first to the last the book overflows with the strange knowledge of child-nature which so rarely survives childhood; and moreover, with inexhaustible quiet humor, which is never anything but innocent and well-bred, never priggish, and never clumsy. "--Academy. 

A Sweet Girl Graduate. By L. T. Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price$1. 00. 

 "One of this popular author's best. The characters are well imagined and drawn. The story moves with plenty of spirit and the interest does not flag until the end too quickly comes. "--Providence Journal. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher. A. L. BURT, 53-58 Duane Street, New York. 

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BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Six to Sixteen: A Story for Girls. By Juliana Horatia Ewing. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "There is no doubt as to the good quality and attractiveness of 'Six to Sixteen. ' The book is one which would enrich any girl's book shelf. "--St. James' Gazette. 

The Palace Beautiful: A Story for Girls. By L. T. Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "A bright and interesting story. The many admirers of Mrs. L. T. Meade in this country will be delighted with the 'Palace Beautiful' for more reasons than one. It is a charming book for girls. "--New York Recorder. 

A World of Girls: The Story of a School. By L. T. Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "One of those wholesome stories which it does one good to read. It will afford pure delight to numerous readers. This book should be on every girl's book shelf. "--Boston Home Journal. 

The Lady of the Forest: A Story for Girls. By L. T. Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "This story is written in the author's well-known, fresh and easy style. All girls fond of reading will be charmed by this well-written story. It is told with the author's customary grace and spirit. " --Boston Times. 

At the Back of the North Wind. By George Macdonald. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "A very pretty story, with much of the freshness and vigor of Mr. Macdonald's earlier work.... It is a sweet, earnest, and wholesome fairy story, and the quaint native humor is delightful. A most delightful volume for young readers. "--Philadelphia Times. 

The Water Babies: A Fairy Tale for a Land Baby. By Charles Kingsley. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "The strength of his work, as well as its peculiar charms, consist in his description of the experiences of a youth with life under water in the luxuriant wealth of which he revels with all the ardor of a poetical nature. "--New York Tribune. 

Our Bessie. By Rosa N. Carey. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "One of the most entertaining stories of the season, fall of vigorous action, and strong in character-painting. Elder girls will be charmed with it, and adults may read its pages with profit. "--The Teachers' Aid. 

Wild Kitty. A Story of Middleton School. By L. T. Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "Kitty is a true heroine--warm-hearted, self-sacrificing, and, as all good women nowadays are, largely touched with the enthusiasm of humanity. One of the most attractive gift books of the season. "--The Academy. 

A Young Mutineer. A Story for Girls. By L. T. Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "One of Mrs. Meade's charming books for girls, narrated in that simple and picturesque style which marks the authoress as one of the first among writers for young people. "--The Spectator. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street. New York. 

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BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Sue and I. By Mrs. O'Reilly. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "A thoroughly delightful book, full of sound wisdom as well as fun. " --Athenæum. 

The Princess and the Goblin. A Fairy Story. By George MacDonald. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "If a child once begins this book, it will get so deeply interested in it that when bedtime comes it will altogether forget the moral, and will weary its parents with importunities for just a few minutes more to see how everything ends. "--Saturday Review. 

Pythia's Pupils: A Story of a School. By Eva Hartner. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "This story of the doings of several bright school girls is sure to interest girl readers. Among many good stories for girls this is undoubtedly one of the very best. "--Teachers' Aid. 

A Story of a Short Life. By Juliana Horatia Ewing. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "The book is one we can heartily recommend, for it is not only bright and interesting, but also pure and healthy in tone and teaching. " --Courier. 

The Sleepy King. A Fairy Tale. By Aubrey Hopwood and Seymour Hicks. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "Wonderful as the adventures of Bluebell are, it must be admitted that they are very naturally worked out and very plausibly presented. Altogether this is an excellent story for girls. "--Saturday Review. 

Two Little Waifs. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price75 cents. 

 "Mrs. Molesworth's delightful story of 'Two Little Waifs' will charm all the small people who find it in their stockings. It relates the adventures of two lovable English children lost in Paris, and is just wonderful enough to pleasantly wring the youthful heart. "--New York Tribune. 

Adventures in Toyland. By Edith King Hall. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "The author is such a bright, cheery writer, that her stories are always acceptable to all who are not confirmed cynics, and her record of the adventures is as entertaining and enjoyable as we might expect. "--Boston Courier. 

Adventures in Wallypug Land. By G. E. Farrow. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "These adventures are simply inimitable, and will delight boys and girls of mature age, as well as their juniors. No happier combination of author and artist than this volume presents could be found to furnish healthy amusement to the young folks. The book is an artistic one in every sense. "--Toronto Mail. 

Fussbudget's Folks. A Story for Young Girls. By Anna F. Burnham. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "Mrs. Burnham has a rare gift for composing stories for children. With a light, yet forcible touch, she paints sweet and artless, yet natural and strong, characters. "--Congregationalist. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street. New York. 

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BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Mixed Pickles. A Story for Girls. By Mrs. E. M. Field. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "It is, in its way, a little classic, of which the real beauty and pathos can hardly be appreciated by young people. It is not too much to say of the story that it is perfect of its kind. "--Good Literature. 

Miss Mouse and Her Boys. A Story for Girls. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "Mrs. Molesworth's books are cheery, wholesome, and particularly well adapted to refined life. It is safe to add that she is the best English prose writer for children. A new volume from Mrs. Molesworth is always a treat. "--The Beacon. 

Gilly Flower. A Story for Girls. By the author of "Miss Toosey'sMission. " 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "Jill is a little guardian angel to three lively brothers who tease and play with her.... Her unconscious goodness brings right thoughts and resolves to several persons who come into contact with her. There is no goodiness in this tale, but its influence is of the best kind. " --Literary World. 

The Chaplet of Pearls; or, The White and Black Ribaumont. By CharlotteM. Yonge. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "Full of spirit and life, so well sustained throughout that grown-up readers may enjoy it as much as children. It is one of the best books of the season. "--Guardian. 

Naughty Miss Bunny: Her Tricks and Troubles. By Clara Mulholland. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "The naughty child is positively delightful. Papas should not omit the book from their list of juvenile presents. "--Land and Water. 

Meg's Friend. By Alice Corkran. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "One of Miss Corkran's charming books for girls, narrated in that simple and picturesque style which marks the authoress as one of the first among writers for young people. "--The Spectator. 

Averil. By Rosa N. Carey. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "A charming story for young folks. Averil is a delightful creature--piquant, tender, and true--and her varying fortunes are perfectly realistic. "--World. 

Aunt Diana. By Rosa N. Carey. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "An excellent story, the interest being sustained from first to last. This is, both in its intention and the way the story is told, one of the best books of its kind which has come before us this year. " --Saturday Review. 

Little Sunshine's Holiday: A Picture from Life. By Miss Mulock. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "This is a pretty narrative of child life, describing the simple doings and sayings of a very charming and rather precocious child. This is a delightful book for young people. "--Gazette. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 

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BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Esther's Charge. A Story for Girls. By Ellen Everett Green. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "... This is a story showing in a charming way how one little girl's jealousy and bad temper were conquered; one of the best, most suggestive and improving of the Christmas juveniles. "--New York Tribune. 

Fairy Land of Science. By Arabella B. Buckley. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "We can highly recommend it; not only for the valuable information it gives on the special subjects to which it is dedicated, but also as a book teaching natural sciences in an interesting way. A fascinating little volume, which will make friends in every household in which there are children. "--Daily News. 

Merle's Crusade. By Rosa N. Carey. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price$1. 00. 

 "Among the books for young people we have seen nothing more unique than this book. Like all of this author's stories it will please young readers by the very attractive and charming style in which it is written. "--Journal. 

Birdie: A Tale of Child Life. By H. L. Childe-Pemberton. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "The story is quaint and simple, but there is a freshness about it that makes one hear again the ringing laugh and the cheery shout of children at play which charmed his earlier years. "--New York Express. 

The Days of Bruce: A Story from Scottish History. By Grace Aguilar. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "There is a delightful freshness, sincerity and vivacity about all of Grace Aguilar's stories which cannot fail to win the interest and admiration of every lover of good reading. "--Boston Beacon. 

Three Bright Girls: A Story of Chance and Mischance. By Annie E. Armstrong. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "The charm of the story lies in the cheery helpfulness of spirit developed in the girls by their changed circumstances; while the author finds a pleasant ending to all their happy makeshifts. The story is charmingly told, and the book can be warmly recommended as a present for girls. "--Standard. 

Giannetta: A Girl's Story of Herself. By Rosa Mulholland. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "Extremely well told and full of interest. Giannetta is a true heroine--warm-hearted, self-sacrificing, and, as all good women nowadays are, largely touched with enthusiasm of humanity. The illustrations are unusually good. One of the most attractive gift books of the season. "--The Academy. 

Margery Merton's Girlhood. By Alice Corkran. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "The experiences of an orphan girl who in infancy is left by her father to the care of an elderly aunt residing near Paris. The accounts of the various persons who have an after influence on the story are singularly vivid. There is a subtle attraction about the book which will make it a great favorite with thoughtful girls. " --Saturday Review. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher. A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 

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BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Under False Colors: A Story from Two Girls' Lives. By Sarah Doudney. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "Sarah Doudney has no superior as a writer of high-toned stories--pure in style, original in conception, and with skillfully wrought out plots; but we have seen nothing equal in dramatic energy to this book. "--Christian Leader. 

Down the Snow Stairs; or, From Good-night to Good-morning. By AliceCorkran. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "Among all the Christmas volumes which the year has brought to our table this one stands out facile princeps--a gem of the first water, bearing upon every one of its pages the signet mark of genius.... All is told with such simplicity and perfect naturalness that the dream appears to be a solid reality. It is indeed a Little Pilgrim's Progress. "--Christian Leader. 

The Tapestry Room: A Child's Romance. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "Mrs. Molesworth is a charming painter of the nature and ways of children; and she has done good service in giving us this charming juvenile which will delight the young people. "--Athenæum, London. 

Little Miss Peggy: Only a Nursery Story. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 Mrs. Molesworth's children are finished studies. A joyous earnest spirit pervades her work, and her sympathy is unbounded. She loves them with her whole heart, while she lays bare their little minds, and expresses their foibles, their faults, their virtues, their inward struggles, their conception of duty, and their instinctive knowledge of the right and wrong of things. She knows their characters, she understands their wants, and she desires to help them. 

Polly: A New Fashioned Girl. By L. T. Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 Few authors have achieved a popularity equal to Mrs. Meade as a writer of stories for young girls. Her characters are living beings of flesh and blood, not lay figures of conventional type. Into the trials and crosses, and everyday experiences, the reader enters at once with zest and hearty sympathy. While Mrs. Meade always writes with a high moral purpose, her lessons of life, purity and nobility of character are rather inculcated by example than intruded as sermons. 

One of a Covey. By the author of "Miss Toosey's Mission. " 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "Full of spirit and life, so well sustained throughout that grown-up readers may enjoy it as much as children. This 'Covey' consists of the twelve children of a hard-pressed Dr. Partridge out of which is chosen a little girl to be adopted by a spoiled, fine lady. We have rarely read a story for boys and girls with greater pleasure. One of the chief characters would not have disgraced Dickens' pen. "--Literary World. 

The Little Princess of Tower Hill. By L. T. Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "This is one of the prettiest books for children published, as pretty as a pond-lily, and quite as fragrant. Nothing could be imagined more attractive to young people than such a combination of fresh pages and fair pictures; and while children will rejoice over it--which is much better than crying for it--it is a book that can be read with pleasure even by older boys and girls. "--Boston Advertiser. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 

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BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Rosy. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 Mrs. Molesworth, considering the quality and quantity of her labors, is the best story-teller for children England has yet known. 

 "This is a very pretty story. The writer knows children, and their ways well. The illustrations are exceedingly well drawn. "--Spectator. 

Esther: A Book for Girls. By Rosa N. Carey. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "She inspires her readers simply by bringing them in contact with the characters, who are in themselves inspiring. Her simple stories are woven in order to give her an opportunity to describe her characters by their own conduct in seasons of trial. "--Chicago Times. 

Sweet Content. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75cents. 

 "It seems to me not at all easier to draw a lifelike child than to draw a lifelike man or woman: Shakespeare and Webster were the only two men of their age who could do it with perfect delicacy and success. Our own age is more fortunate, on this single score at least, having a larger and far nobler proportion of female writers; among whom, since the death of George Eliot, there is none left whose touch is so exquisite and masterly, whose love is so thoroughly according to knowledge, whose bright and sweet invention is so fruitful, so truthful, or so delightful as Mrs. Molesworth's. "--A. C. Swinbourne. 

Honor Bright; or, The Four-Leaved Shamrock. By the author of "MissToosey's Mission. " 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "It requires a special talent to describe the sayings and doings of children, and the author of 'Honor Bright, ' 'One of a Covey, ' possesses that talent in no small degree. A cheery, sensible, and healthy tale. "--The Times. 

The Cuckoo Clock. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75cents. 

 "A beautiful little story. It will be read with delight by every child into whose hands it is placed.... The author deserves all the praise that has been, is, and will be bestowed on 'The Cuckoo Clock. ' Children's stories are plentiful, but one like this is not to be met with every day. "--Pall Mall Gazette. 

The Adventures of a Brownie. As Told to my Child. By Miss Mulock. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "The author of this delightful little book leaves it in doubt all through whether there actually is such a creature in existence as a Brownie, but she makes us hope that there might be. "--Chicago Standard. 

Only a Girl: A Tale of Brittany. From the French by C. A. Jones. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "We can thoroughly recommend this brightly written and homely narrative. "--Saturday Review. 

Little Rosebud; or, Things Will Take a Turn. By Beatrice Harraden. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "A most delightful little book.... Miss Harraden is so bright, so healthy, and so natural withal that the book ought, as a matter of duty, to be added to every girl's library in the land. "--Boston Transcript. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 

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BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Girl Neighbors; or, The Old Fashion and the New. By Sarah Tytler. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "One of the most effective and quietly humorous of Miss Tytler's stories. 'Girl Neighbors' is a pleasant comedy, not so much of errors as of prejudices got rid of, very healthy, very agreeable, and very well written. "--Spectator. 

The Little Lame Prince and His Traveling Cloak. By Miss Mulock. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "No sweeter--that is the proper word--Christmas story for the little folks could easily be found, and it is as delightful for older readers as well. There is a moral to it which the reader can find out for himself, if he chooses to think. "--Cleveland Herald. 

Little Miss Joy. By Emma Marshall. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75cents. 

 "A very pleasant and instructive story, told by a very charming writer in such an attractive way as to win favor among its young readers. The illustrations add to the beauty of the book. "--Utica Herald. 

The House that Grew. A Girl's Story. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "This is a very pretty story of English life. Mrs. Molesworth is one of the most popular and charming of English story-writers for children. Her child characters are true to life, always natural and attractive, and her stories are wholesome and interesting. " --Indianapolis Journal. 

The House of Surprises. By L. T. Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price75 cents. 

 "A charming tale of charming children, who are naughty enough to be interesting, and natural enough to be lovable; and very prettily their story is told. The quaintest yet most natural stories of child life. Simply delightful. "--Vanity Fair. 

The Jolly Ten: and their Year of Stories. By Agnes Carr Sage. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 The story of a band of cousins who were accustomed to meet at the "Pinery, " with "Aunt Roxy. " At her fireside they play merry games, have suppers flavored with innocent fun, and listen to stories--each with its lesson calculated to make the ten not less jolly, but quickly responsive to the calls of duty and to the needs of others. 

Little Miss Dorothy. The Wonderful Adventures of Two Little People. ByMartha James. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75c. 

 "This is a charming little juvenile story from the pen of Mrs. James, detailing the various adventures of a couple of young children. Their many adventure are told in a charming manner, and the book will please young girls and boys. "--Montreal Star. 

Pen's Venture. A Story for Girls. By Elvirton Wright. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 Something Pen saw in the condition of the cash girls in a certain store gave her a thought; the thought became a plan; the plan became a venture--Pen's venture. It is amusing, touching, and instructive to read about it. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 

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FAIRY BOOKS. 

The Blue Fairy Book. Edited by Andrew Lang. Profusely illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1. 00. 

 "The tales are simply delightful. No amount of description can do them justice. The only way is to read the book through from cover to cover. "--Book Review. 

The Green Fairy Book. Edited by Andrew Lang. Profusely illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1. 00. 

 "The most delightful book of fairy tales, taking form and content together, ever presented to children. "--E. S. Hartland, in Folk-Lore. 

The Yellow Fairy Book. Edited by Andrew Lang. Profusely illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1. 00. 

 "As a collection of fairy tales to delight children of all ages, it ranks second to none. "--Daily Graphic. 

The Red Fairy Book. Edited by Andrew Lang. Profusely illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1. 00. 

 "A gift-book that will charm any child, and all older folk, who have been fortunate enough to retain their taste for the old nursery stories. "--Literary World. 

Celtic Fairy Tales. Edited by Joseph Jacobs. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "A stock of delightful little narratives gathered chiefly from the Celtic-speaking peasants of Ireland. A perfectly lovely book. And oh! the wonderful pictures inside. Get this book if you can; it is capital, all through. "--Pall Mall Budget. 

English Fairy Tales. Edited by Joseph Jacobs, 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "The tales are simply delightful. No amount of description can do them justice. The only way is to read the book through from cover to cover. The book is intended to correspond to 'Grimm's Fairy Tales, ' and it must be allowed that its pages fairly rival in interest those of that well-known repository of folk-lore. "--Morning Herald. 

Indian Fairy Tales. Edited by Joseph Jacobs. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00

 "Mr. Jacobs brings home to as in a clear and intelligible manner the enormous influence which 'Indian Fairy Tales' have had upon European literature of the kind. The present combination will be welcomed not alone by the little ones for whom it is specially combined, but also by children of larger growth and added years. "--Daily Telegraph. 

Household Fairy Tales. By the Brothers Grimm. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "As a collection of fairy tales to delight children of all ages this work ranks second to none. "--Daily Graphic. 

Fairy Tales and Stories. By Hans Christian Andersen. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "If I were asked to select a child's library I should name these three volumes, 'English, ' 'Celtic, ' and 'Indian Fairy Tales, ' with Grimm and Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales. "--Independent. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 

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FAIRY BOOKS. 

Popular Fairy Tales. By the Brothers Grimm. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "From first to last, almost without exception, these stories are delightful. "--Athenæum. 

Icelandic Fairy Tales. By A. W. Hall. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price$1. 00. 

 "The most delightful book of fairy tales, taking form and contents together, ever presented to children. The whole collection is dramatic and humorous. A more desirable child's book has not been seen for many a day. "--Daily News. 

Fairy Tales From the Far North. (Norwegian. ) By P. C. Asbjornsen. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "If we were asked what present would make a child happiest at Christmastide we think we could with a clear conscience point to Mr. Jacobs' book. It is a dainty and an interesting volume. "--Notes and Queries. 

Cossack Fairy Tales. By R. Nisbet Bain. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price$1. 00. 

 "A really valuable and curious selection which will be welcomed by readers of all ages.... The illustrations by Mr. Batten are often clever and irresistibly humorous. A delight alike to the young people and their elders. "--Globe. 

The Golden Fairy Book. By Various Authors. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "The most delightful book of its kind that has come in our way for many a day. It is brimful of pretty stories. Retold in a truly delightful manner. "--Graphic. 

The Silver Fairy Book. By Various Authors. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "The book is intended to correspond to 'Grimm's Fairy Tales, ' and it must be allowed that its pages fairly rival in interest those of the well-known repository of folk-lore. It is a most delightful volume of fairy tales. "--Courier. 

The Brownies, and Other Stories. By Juliana Horatia Ewing. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "Like all the books she has written this one is very charming, and is worth more in the hands of a child than a score of other stories of a more sensational character. "--Christian at Work. 

The Hunting of the Snark. An Agony in Eight Fits. By Lewis Carroll, author of "Alice In Wonderland. " 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75cents. 

 "This glorious piece of nonsense.... Everybody ought to read it--nearly everybody will--and all who deserve the treat will scream with laughter. "--Graphic. 

Lob Lie-By-the-fire, and Other Tales. By Juliana Horatio Ewing. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

 "Mrs. Ewing has written as good a story as her 'Brownies, ' and that is saying a great deal. 'Lob Lie-by-the-fire' has humor and pathos, and teaches what is right without making children think they are reading a sermon. "--Saturday Review. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York

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BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

By Right of Conquest; or, With Cortez in Mexico. By G. A. Henty. Withillustrations by W. S. Stacey. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 50. 

 "The conquest of Mexico by a small band of resolute men under the magnificent leadership of Cortez is always rightfully ranked among the most romantic and daring exploits in history. 'By Right of Conquest' is the nearest approach to a perfectly successful historical tale that Mr. Henty has yet published. "--Academy. 

For Name and Fame; or, Through Afghan Passes By G. A. Henty. Withillustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "Not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of excitement of a campaign, but, what is still more useful, an account of a territory and its inhabitants which must for a long time possess a supreme interest for Englishmen, as being the key to our Indian Empire. "--Glasgow Herald. 

The Bravest of the Brave; or, With Peterborough in Spain. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by H. M. Paget. 12mo cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "Mr. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work--to enforce the doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and loving kindness, as indispensable to the making of a gentleman. Boys will read 'The Bravest of the Brave' with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite sure. "--Daily Telegraph. 

The Cat of Bubastes: A Story of Ancient Egypt. By G. A. Henty. Withillustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat to the perilous exodus from Asia with which it closes, is very skillfully constructed and full of exciting adventures. It is admirably illustrated. "--Saturday Review. 

Bonnie Prince Charlie: A Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

 "Ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of 'Quentin Durward. ' The lad's journey across France, and his hairbreadth escapes, makes up as good a narrative of the kind as we have ever read. For freshness of treatment and variety of incident Mr. Henty has surpassed himself. " --Spectator. 

With Clive in India; or, The Beginnings of an Empire. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, olvine edges, price$1. 00. 

 "He has taken a period of Indian history of the most vital importance, and he has embroidered on the historical facts a story which of itself is deeply interesting. Young people assuredly will be delighted with the volume. "--Scotsman. 

In the Reign of Terror: The Adventures of a Westminster Boy. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by J. Schönberg. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "Harry Sandwith, the Westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat Mr. Henty's record. His adventures will delight boys by the audacity and peril they depict. The story is one of Mr. Henty's best. "--Saturday Review. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 

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BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

The Lion of the North: A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus and the Wars ofReligion. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by John Schönberg. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "A praiseworthy attempt to interest British youth in the great deeds of the Scotch Brigade in the wars of Gustavus Adolphus. Mackey, Hepburn, and Munro live again in Mr. Henty's pages, as those deserve to live whose disciplined bands formed really the germ of the modern British army. "--Athenæum. 

The Dragon and the Raven; or, The Days of King Alfred. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by C. J. Staniland. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

 "In this story the author gives an account of the fierce struggle between Saxon and Dane for supremacy in England, and presents a vivid picture of the misery and ruin to which the country was reduced by the ravages of the sea-wolves. The story is treated in a manner most attractive to the boyish reader. "--Athenæum. 

The Young Carthaginian: A Story of the Times of Hannibal. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by C. J. Staniland. 12mo, cloth, olivineedges, price $1. 00. 

 "Well constructed and vividly told. From first to last nothing stays the interest of the narrative. It bears us along as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never loses its force. "--Saturday Review. 

In Freedom's Cause: A Story of Wallace and Bruce. By G. A. Henty. Withillustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "It is written in the author's best style. Full of the wildest and most remarkable achievements, it is a tale of great interest, which a boy, once he has begun it, will not willingly put one side. "--The Schoolmaster. 

With Wolfe in Canada; or, The Winning of a Continent. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

 "A model of what a boys' story-book should be. Mr. Henty has a great power of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as no pains are spared by him to ensure accuracy in historic details, his books supply useful aids to study as well as amusement. "--School Guardian. 

True to the Old Flag: A Tale of the American War of Independence. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, olivineedges, price $1. 00. 

 "Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British soldiers during the unfortunate struggle against American emancipation. The son of an American loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the hostile red-skins in that very Huron country which has been endeared to us by the exploits of Hawkeye and Chingachgook. "--The Times. 

A Final Reckoning: A Tale of Bush Life in Australia. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by W. B. Wollen. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

 "All boys will read this story with eager and unflagging interest. The episodes are in Mr. Henty's very best vein--graphic, exciting, realistic, and, as in all Mr. Henty's books, the tendency is to the formation of an honorable, manly, and even heroic character. " --Birmingham Post. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 

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BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

The Lion of the North: A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus and the Wars ofReligion. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by John Schönberg. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "A praiseworthy attempt to interest British youth in the great deeds of the Scotch Brigade in the wars of Gustavus Adolphus. Mackey, Hepburn, and Munro live again in Mr. Henty's pages, as those deserve to live whose disciplined bands formed really the germ of the modern British army. "--Athenæum. 

The Dragon and the Raven; or, The Days of King Alfred. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by C. J. Staniland. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

 "In this story the author gives an account of the fierce struggle between Saxon and Dane for supremacy in England, and presents a vivid picture of the misery and ruin to which the country was reduced by the ravages of the sea-wolves. The story is treated in a manner most attractive to the boyish reader. "--Athenæum. 

The Young Carthaginian: A Story of the Times of Hannibal. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by C. J. Staniland. 12mo, cloth, olivineedges, price $1. 00. 

 "Well constructed and vividly told. From first to last nothing stays the interest of the narrative. It bears us along as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never loses its force. "--Saturday Review. 

In Freedom's Cause: A Story of Wallace and Bruce. By G. A. Henty. Withillustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "It is written in the author's best style. Full of the wildest and most remarkable achievements, it is a tale of great interest, which a boy, once he has begun it, will not willingly put one side. "--The Schoolmaster. 

With Wolfe in Canada; or, The Winning of a Continent. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

 "A model of what a boys' story-book should be. Mr. Henty has a great power of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as no pains are spared by him to ensure accuracy in historic details, his books supply useful aids to study as well as amusement. "--School Guardian. 

True to the Old Flag: A Tale of the American War of Independence. By G. A. Henty With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, olivineedges, price $1. 00. 

 "Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British soliders during the unfortunate struggle against American emancipation. The son of an American loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the hostile red-skins in that very Huron country which has been endeared to us by the exploits of Hawkeye and Chingachgook. "--The Times. 

A Final Reckoning: A Tale of Bush Life in Australia. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by W. B. Wollen. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

 "All boys will read this story with eager and unflagging interest. The episodes are in Mr. Henty's very best vein--graphic, exciting, realistic; and, as in all Mr. Henty's books, the tendency is to the formation of an honorable, manly, and even heroic character. " --Birmingham Post. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 

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BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

The Lion of St. Mark: A Tale of Venice in the Fourteenth Century. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, olivineedges, price $1. 00. 

 "Every boy should read 'The Lion of St. Mark. ' Mr. Henty has never produced a story more delightful, more wholesome, or more vivacious. " --Saturday Review. 

Facing Death; or, The Hero of the Vaughan Pit. A Tale of the Coal Mines. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "The tale is well written and well illustrated, and there is much reality in the characters. If any father, clergyman, or schoolmaster is on the lookout for a good book to give as a present to a boy who is worth his salt, this is the book we would recommend. "--Standard. 

Maori and Settler: A Story of the New Zealand War. By G. A. Henty. Withillustrations by Alfred Pearse. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "In the adventures among the Maoris, there are many breathless moments in which the odds seem hopelessly against the party, but they succeed in establishing themselves happily in one of the pleasant New Zealand valleys. It is brimful of adventure, of humorous and interesting conversation, and vivid pictures of colonial life. "--Schoolmaster. 

One of the 28th: A Tale of Waterloo. By G. A. Henty. With illustrationsby W. H. Overend. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "Written with Homeric vigor and heroic inspiration. It is graphic, picturesque, and dramatically effective ... Shows us Mr. Henty at his best and brightest. The adventures will hold a boy enthralled as he rushes through them with breathless interest 'from cover to cover. '" --Observer. 

Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick. By G. A. Henty. Withillustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "The narrative is free from the vice of prejudice, and ripples with life as if what is being described were really passing before the eye. "--Belfast News-Letter. 

Through the Fray: A Story of the Luddite Riots. By G. A. Henty. Withillustrations by H. M. Paget. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "Mr. Henty inspires a love and admiration for straightforwardness, truth and courage. This is one of the best of the many good books Mr. Henty has produced, and deserves to be classed with his 'Facing Death. '" --Standard. 

The Young Midshipman: A Story of the Bombardment of Alexandria. Withillustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 A coast fishing lad, by an act of heroism, secures the interest of a shipowner, who places him as an apprentice on board one of his ships. In company with two of his fellow-apprentices he is left behind, at Alexandria, in the hands of the revolted Egyptian troops, and is present through the bombardment and the scenes of riot and bloodshed which accompanied it. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 

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BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

In Times of Peril. A Tale of India. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "The hero of the story early excites our admiration, and is altogether a fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst the story of the campaign is very graphically told. "--St. James's Gazette. 

The Cornet of Horse: A Tale of Marlborough's Wars. By G. A. Henty. Withillustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 

 "Mr. Henty not only concocts a thrilling tale, he weaves fact and fiction together with so skillful a hand that the reader cannot help acquiring a just and clear view of that fierce and terrible struggle known as the Crimean War. "--Athenæum. 

The Young Franc-Tireurs: Their Adventures in the Franco-Prussian War. ByG. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

 "A capital book for boys. It is bright and readable, and full of good sense and manliness. It teaches pluck and patience in adversity, and shows that right living leads to success. "--Observer. 

The Young Colonists: A Story of Life and War in South Africa. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "No boy needs to have any story of Henty's recommended to him, and parents who do not know and buy them for their boys should be ashamed of themselves. Those to whom he is yet unknown could not make a better beginning than with this book. "

The Young Buglers. A Tale of the Peninsular War. By G. A. Henty. Withillustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 

 "Mr. Henty is a giant among boys' writers, and his books are sufficiently popular to be sure of a welcome anywhere. In stirring interest, this is quite up to the level of Mr. Henty's former historical tales. "--Saturday Review. 

Sturdy and Strong; or, How George Andrews Made his Way. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo. Cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "The history of a hero of everyday life, whose love of truth, clothing of modesty, and innate pluck, carry him, naturally, from poverty to affluence. George Andrews is an example of character with nothing to cavil at, and stands as a good instance of chivalry in domestic life. "--The Empire. 

Among Malay Pirates. A Story of Adventure and Peril. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "Incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon adventure, and at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced breathless enjoyment in a romantic story that must have taught him much at its close. "--Army and Navy Gazette. 

Jack Archer. A Tale of the Crimea. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "Mr. Henty not only concocts a thrilling tale, he weaves fact and fiction together with so skillful a hand that the reader cannot help acquiring a just and clear view of that fierce and terrible struggle. "--Athenæum. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 

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BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Friends, Though Divided, A Tale of the Civil War. By G. A. Henty. Withillustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 

 "It has a good plot; it abounds in action; the scenes are equally spirited and realistic, and we can only say we have read it with much pleasure from first to last. "--Times. 

Out on the Pampas; or, The Young Settlers. By G. A. Henty Withillustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "A really noble story, which adult readers will find to the full as satisfying as the boys. Lucky boys! to have such a caterer as Mr. G. A. Henty. "--Black and White. 

The Boy Knight: A Tale of the Crusades. By G. A. Henty. Withillustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

 "Of stirring episode there is no lack. The book, with its careful accuracy and its descriptions of all the chief battles, will give many a school-boy his first real understanding of a very important period of history. "--St. James's Gazette. 

The Wreck of the Golden Fleece. The Story of a North Sea Fisher Boy. ByRobert Leighton. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

 A description of life on the wild North Sea. --the hero being a parson's son who is appreciated on board a Lowestoft fishing lugger. The lad has to suffer many buffets from his shipmates, while the storms and dangers which he braved on board the "North Star" are set forth with minute knowledge and intense power. The wreck of the "Golden Fleece" forms the climax to a thrilling series of desperate mischances. 

Olaf the Glorious. A Story of the Viking Age. By Robert Leighton. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 This story of Olaf the Glorious, King of Norway, opens with the incident of his being found by his uncle living as a bond-slave in Esthonia: then come his adventures as a Viking and his raids upon the coasts of Scotland and England, his victorious battle against the English at Maldon in Essex, his being bought off by Ethelred the Unready, and his conversion to Christianity. He then returns to Pagan Norway, is accepted as king and converts his people to the Christian faith. 

To Greenland and the Pole. A story of Adventure in the Arctic Regions. By Gordon Stables. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

 The unfailing fascination of Arctic venturing is presented in this story with new vividness. It deals with skilobning in the north of Scotland, deer-hunting in Norway, sealing in the Arctic Seas, bear-stalking on the ice-floes, the hardships of a journey across Greenland, and a successful voyage to the back of the North Pole. This is, indeed, a real sea-yarn by a real sailor, and the tone is as bright and wholesome as the adventures are numerous. 

Yussuf the Guide. A Story of Adventure in Asia Minor. By George ManvilleFenn. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 This story deals with the stirring incidents in the career of a lad who has been almost given over by the doctors, but who rapidly recovers health and strength in a journey through Asia Minor. The adventures are many, and culminate in the travellers being snowed up for the winter in the mountains, from which they escape while their captors are waiting for the ransom that does not come. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 

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BOOKS FOR BOYS

Grettir the Outlaw. A Story of Iceland. By S. Baring-Gould. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "This is the boys' book of the year. That is, of course, as much as to say that it will do for men grown as well as juniors. It is told in simple, straightforward English, as all stories should be, and it has a freshness and freedom which make it irresistible. "--National Observer. 

Thousand Years Ago. The Adventures of a Roman Boy. By A. J. Church. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "Prof. Church has in this story sought to revivify that most interesting period, the last days of the Roman Republic. The book is extremely entertaining as well as useful; there is a wonderful freshness in the Roman scenes and characters. "--Times. 

Nat the Naturalist. A Boy's Adventure in the Eastern Seas. By GeorgeManville Fenn. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

 Nat and his uncle Dick go on a voyage to the remoter islands of the Eastern seas, and their adventures are told in a truthful and vastly interesting fashion. The descriptions of Mr. Ebony, their black comrade, and of the scenes of savage life, are full of genuine humor. 

The Log of the Flying Fish. A Story of Peril and Adventure. By HarryCollingwood. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

 "This story is full of even more vividly recounted adventures than those which charmed so many boy readers in 'Pirate Island' and 'Congo Rovers. ' ... There is a thrilling adventure on the precipices of Mount Everest, when the ship floats off and providentially returns by force of 'gravitation. '"--Academy. 

The Congo Rovers. A Story of the Slave Squadron. By Harry Collingwood. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "The scene of this tale is laid on the west coast of Africa, and in the lower reaches of the Congo; the characteristic scenery of the great river being delineated with wonderful accuracy. Mr. Collingwood carries us off for another cruise at sea, in 'The Congo Rovers, ' and boys will need no pressing to join the daring crew, which seeks adventures and meets with any number of them. "--The Times. 

Boris the Bear Hunter. A Tale of Peter the Great and His Times. By FredWishaw. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "This is a capital story. The characters are marked and lifelike, and it is full of incident and adventure. "--Standard. 

Michael Strogoff; or, The Courier of the Czar. By Jules Verne. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "The story is full of originality and vigor. The characters are lifelike, there is plenty of stirring incident, the interest is sustained throughout, and every boy will enjoy following the fortunes of the hero. "--Journal of Education. 

Mother Carey's Chicken. Her Voyage to the Unknown Isle. By GeorgeManville Fenn. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

 "Undoubtedly one of the best Mr. Fenn has written. The incidents are of thrilling interest, while the characters are drawn with a care and completeness rarely found in a boy's book. "--Literary World. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L. BURT. 52-58 Duane Street, New York.