,,be ,,courteous3  ,,or1  ,,religion    
,,the ,,true ,,refiner4  ,,by ,,mrs4 ,m4
 ,h4 ,,maxwell4        ,illustration3   
,,mary ,,and ,,the ,,sick ,,child--,,see
 ,,page #ef4     ,,preface4   ,the      
scenes and characters of this story are 
those once familiar to the writer4 ,the 
story itself is but a disconnected diary
 of one who1 early refined from earthly 
dross1 lived only long enough to show us
 that there was both reason and divine  
authority in the words of an apostle1   
when he exhorted ,christians to ,be     
,courteous4     ,,contents4   ,,chapter 
,i4  ,,the ,,plain--,,the ,,isolated    
,,dwelling--,,blue-,,berry              
,,party--,,taking ,a ,,vote--,,treatment
 ,,of ,,new ,,acquaintances--,,the      
,,family ,,at ,,appledale--,,the ,,young
 ,,people ,,upon ,,the                  
,,plain----,,sincere ,,milk ,,of ,,the  
,,word--,a ,,call ,,at ,,the            
,,log-,,house--,,the ,,ride             
,,home--,,original ,,poetry  ,,chapter  
,,ii4  ,,the ,,kind ,,good-,,morning    

--,,the ,,high ,,hill--,,unexpected     
,,meeting--,,romance ,,and              
,,reality--,,the ,,good                 
,,farmer--,,impressions ,,of            
,,childhood--,,worshiping-- ,,bearing   
,,the ,,cross  ,,chapter ,,iii  ,,the   
,,poor ,,woman ,,of ,,the ,,plain--,,the
 ,,note--,,mournful ,,musings--,,the    
,,cup ,,of ,,tea--,,the                 
,,struggle--,,charity ,,and             
,,self--,,emma',s ,,history  ,,chapter  
,,iv4  ,,the ,,little ,,time--,,how     
,,improved--,,fitness ,,for ,,refined   
,,society--,,morning                    
,,reflections--,,ruth ,,and             
,,boaz--,,charity ,,and                 
,,courtesy--,,the ,,visit  ,,chapter ,v4
  ,,the ,,old ,,peddler--,,bitter       
,,words--,,the ,,meek ,,reply--,,the    
,,effect--,,acting ,a ,,part--,,softer  
,,feelings--,,the ,,death-,,scene--,,the
 ,,day ,,of ,,small ,,things--,,simple  
,,christian ,,courtesy     ,,be         
,,courteous3  ,,or1  ,,religion ,,the   
,,true ,,refiner4     ,,chapter ,i4     

,,the ,,plain--,,the ,,isolated         
,,dwelling--,,blue-,,berry              
,,party--,,taking ,a ,,vote--,,treatment
 ,,of ,,new ,,acquaintances--,,the      
,,family ,,at ,,appledale--,,the ,,young
 ,,people ,,upon ,,the                  
,,plain--,,sincere ,,milk ,,of ,,the    
,,word--,a ,,call ,,at ,,the            
,,log-,,house--,,the ,,ride             
,,home--,,original ,,poetry4   ,not more
 than a mile and a half from a pleasant 
village in one of our eastern ,states is
 a plain1 extending many miles1 and     
terminated on the north by a widespread 
pond4 ,a narrow road runs across the    
plain2 but the line of green grass      
bordering the wheel-track upon either   
side1 shows that though the nearest1    
this road is not the most frequented way
 to the pond4 ,many reasons might be    
assigned for this4 ,there is a wearisome
 monotony in the scenery along this     
plain4 ,there are no hills1 and but few 
trees to diversify the almost           
interminable prospect1 stretching east1 

west1 north1 and south1 like a broad    
ocean1 without wave or ripple4 ,the few 
trees scattered here and there stand    
alone1 casting long shadows over the    
plain at nightfall1 and adding solemnity
 to the mysterious stillness of that    
isolated place4 ,it is not a place for  
human habitation1 for the soil is sandy 
and sterile2 neither is it a place for  
human hearts1 so desolate in winter1 and
 so unsheltered and dry during the long 
warm summer4 ,yet midway between the    
village and the pond was once a house1  
standing with its back turned           
unceremoniously upon the narrow road    
with its border of green4 ,it was a poor
 thing to be called a house4 ,its front 
door was made1 as it seemed1 without    
reference to anything1 for it opened    
upon the broad ocean-like plain4 ,no    
questions had been asked relative to a  
title-deed of the land upon which that  
house stood1 or whether poor ,graffam   
had a right to pile up logs in the      
middle of that plain1 and under them to 

hide a family of six4 ,through many a   
long eastern winter that family had     
lived there1 little known1 and little   
cared for4 ,nobody had taken the pains  
to go on purpose to see them2 yet1      
during the month of ,july1 and a part of
 ,august1 some of the family were often 
seen4 ,at all times of the year1 in     
summer's heat and in winter's snow1 the 
children going and returning from       
school1 were wont to meet poor ,graffam1
 a short man1 with sandy hair1 carrying 
an ax upon his shoulder1 and bearing in 
his hand a small pail of dinner2 for    
,graffam1 when refused employment by    
others1 usually found something to do at
 ,motley's ,mills1 which were about half
 a mile from the village4 ,sad and      
serious-looking was this poor man in the
 morning1 and neither extreme civility  
nor extreme rudeness on the part of the 
school children could procure a single  
word from him at this time of day4 ,not 
thus at evening4 ,let us run after      
,graffam1 and have some fun1 the boys   

would say on returning home2 and then it
 was wonderful to see the change which  
had been wrought in this                
mournful-looking1 taciturn man of the   
morning4 ,sometimes he was in a rage1   
repaying their assaults with fearful    
oaths and bitter curses2 but it was a   
thing more general to find him in merry 
mood1 and then he was himself a boy1    
pitching his companions about in the    
snow1 or talking with them largely and  
confidentially of landed estates and    
vast resources all his own4 ,it is      
needless to inform my sagacious young   
reader1 that the cause of this change in
 the poor man was rum4  ,we have        
referred to the month of ,july and a    
part of ,august2 it was during this     
season of the year that the plain1 on   
account of the rich berries tinging its 
surface with beautiful blue1 became a   
place of much resort4 ,these berries1   
hanging in countless clusters upon their
 low bushes among the shrubbery1 were at
 least worth going to see4 ,it is the   

opinion of most people1 however1 7an    
opinion first entertained in ,eden17    
that fruit pleasant to the eye is       
desirable for the taste4 ,such was the  
opinion prevalent in that region2 and   
the sight of merry blue-berry companies1
 sometimes in wagons1 sometimes on foot1
 was among the most common of our       
midsummer morning scenes4 ,equally      
familiar was the sight of like companies
 returning at evening1 weary1 but better
 satisfied2 glad that1 with well-filled 
pails and baskets1 they were so near    
home4 ,this was the time of year when   
the young ,graffams became visible4 ,the
 blue-berry companies often encountered 
them upon the plain1 but found them shy 
as young partridges1 dodging through the
 bushes1 and skulking away as though    
kidnappers were in pursuit4  ,there was1
 however1 one boy among them1 the       
eldest1 7if we remember rightly17 who   
was quite familiar with the villagers4  
,he was a little boy1 not more than ten 
or eleven at the time of which ,i now   

write1 and for two or three summers had 
been in the habit of bringing berries to
 the village1 and offering them for any 
small matter1 either for food or        
clothing4 ,both the kind-hearted and the
 curious had plied this little boy with 
questions1 relative to his manner of    
life1 his mother1 brothers1 and sisters2
 but his answers were far from giving   
information upon any of these points4   
,he always declined a proposed visit by 
saying1 ,mother don't want no company4  
,this seemed true enough2 for when any  
visitor to the plain called at          
,graffam's for a drink of water1 they   
were never invited to enter4 ,the water 
was handed them through a small opening1
 and the mother was seldom visible4  ,it
 was one of the brightest of our ,july  
mornings1 when a blue-berry company     
started from the village                
before-mentioned4 ,two wagons filled    
with young people passed along the      
principal street at an early hour1      
raising a cloud of dust as they turned  

the corner where stood a guide-board    
pointing out the plain road to the pond4
 ,onward rolled the two wagons1 the     
tin-pails and dippers dancing and       
rattling in the rear1 keeping time with 
the clatter of untamed tongues in the   
van4 ,shall we call at ',appledale8'    
asked the driver of the first wagon1    
coming to a sudden stand4  ,go along6   
laughingly answered a gay girl in the   
second4 ,our horse is putting his nose  
into your tin rattletraps4  ,the        
question was repeated4  ,they are       
strangers to us1 replied a black-eyed   
young lady1 and from seeing them at     
church ,i should think them precise4 ,a 
refusal would be mortifying2 and if the 
prim ,miss ,martha concludes to go1 that
 will be still worse4 ,we cannot act    
ourselves1 and all the fun will be      
spoiled4 ,what say you1 ,fanny          
,brighton8  ,fanny1 a bright-looking1   
but rather reckless girl1 replied3 ,they
 shall not go1 neither ,miss ,martha nor
 ,miss ,emma2 not that ,i care a        

fiddlestring for their primness or their
 precision2 nobody shall prevent me from
 thinking1 and acting1 and doing as ,i  
please to-day2 from being1 in short1    
what ,i was made to be--,fanny          
,brighton1 and nobody else4  ,fanny     
spoke with her usual authority1 and     
expected obedience2 but to her surprise 
,henry ,boyd1 the young driver of the   
first wagon1 still hesitated1 and       
stooping down1 he whispered to a mild1  
lovely-looking girl1 who1 seated upon a 
box1 was holding her parasol so as to   
shield from the sun's rays a sickly     
little boy4 ,take a vote of the company1
 whispered the pretty girl1 whom he     
called ,mary4  ,if it be your minds1    
said ,henry1 rising to his feet1 that we
 call at ,appledale1 and invite ,miss   
,martha and ,miss ,emma ,lindsay to be  
of our company1 please manifest it by   
raising the right hand4 ,it is a vote1  
he quietly continued1 taking his seat4  
,mary ,palmer6 called out ,fanny2 you   
are a simpleton1 and so fond of serving 

people as to court insult4  ,mary's     
cheek flushed a little4 ,it was not the 
first time that she had been called a   
simpleton1 or some kindred name1 by the 
out-spoken ,miss ,fanny2 for this young 
lady prided herself on not being afraid 
to speak plainly1 and tell people just  
what she thought of them4  ,as we before
 said1 ,mary's cheek flushed a little2  
but she instantly thought to herself1   
,it is ,fanny1 and ,i won't mind it4 ,so
 she smiled1 and said very gently1 ,i am
 sure1 ,fanny1 that no sensible person  
will insult me for trying to be         
courteous1 though ,i may not exactly    
understand the way4 ,it can do the      
,misses ,lindsay no harm to receive such
 an invitation from us1 and we cannot be
 injured by a refusal4  ,for my own     
part1 said ,henry1 ,i think that the    
question whether we are to be neighbors 
or not should be settled4 ,they are     
strangers1 and it is our business to    
make the first advance toward an        
acquaintance4 ,if they decline1 we have 

only hereafter to keep at a respectful  
distance4  ,precious little respect will
 they find in me1 said ,fanny4 ,i am too
 much of a ,yankee to flatter people by 
subserviency1 or to put myself out of   
the way to gain acquaintances about whom
 ,i care not a fig4 ,but drive on3 while
 we are prating and voting about the    
nabobs at ,appledale the sun is growing 
hot4  ,henry gathered up his reins1 and 
away the wagons clattered down the long 
hill1 and with a short1 thunder-like    
rumble crossed the bridge between the   
,sliver ,place and ,appledale4 ,perhaps 
the writer may be called to account for 
this romantic name3 he will therefore   
give it here4 ,appledale was once called
 ,snag-,orchard1 on account of the old  
trees whose fugitive roots often found  
their way into the road1 making great   
trouble1 and causing great complaint    
from the citizens1 who yearly worked out
 a tax there4  ,the people of that place
 would never have thought of calling it 
anything else1 had it not been for      

,susan and ,margaret ,sliver1 who       
sometimes wrote verses1 and thought that
 ,appledale sounded better in poetry    
than did ,snag-,orchard4 ,these ladies1 
7they called themselves young1 but we   
must be truthful1 even at the expense of
 courtesy17--these ladies1 ,margaret and
 ,susan1 said that this old place was   
decidedly romantic2 but the plain people
 living in that vicinity knew but little
 of romance4 ,if they saved time from   
hard labor to read their ,bible1 it was 
certainly a subject for thankfulness4   
,most of them thought that              
,snag-,orchard was a gloomy place1 and  
that it was a pity for so much good     
ground to be taken up with overgrown    
trees4 ,it suited ,mr4 ,croswell1       
however1 who was the former proprietor4 
,he had but little interest in the land 
belonging to this world1 for all his    
relatives1 nearly every one1 had gone to
 the land that is very far off4 ,he     
loved the trees1 and seemed to us like  
an old tree himself1 from which kindred 

branch and spray had fallen1 leaving him
 in the world's wilderness alone4 ,some 
thought him melancholy2 but he was not3 
he was only waiting upon the shore of   
that river dividing the blessed land    
from ours2 and one spring morning1 very 
suddenly to his neighbors1 he crossed   
that river1 and found more1 infinitely  
more than he had ever lost4 ,after he   
was gone1 the house was closed for a    
time2 and through the bright days of the
 following summer1 when the foliage     
became heavy upon the old trees1 casting
 so deep a shadow as to make noonday but
 twilight there1 and when the night     
breeze sang mournfully among the pines  
in the rear of that old house1 people   
coming from the pond by the way of the  
plain looked stealthily over their      
shoulders at ,snag-,orchard3 but they   
knew not why1 for nothing was           
there--nothing but loneliness and       
desertion4  ,there was a report among   
the school children that the ,croswell  
house was haunted2 and in his merry     

moods poor ,graffam had told the boys1  
how many a time upon a dark night1 when 
going from ,motley's ,mills to his house
 upon the plain1 he had seen that house 
brilliantly illuminated1 and once or    
twice had heard old ,mr4 ,croswell call 
to him from the window1 and say1        
,beware1 ,graffam1 beware4 ,little1     
however1 was thought of these stories1  
for we all knew that the unhappy man    
often went home at night with a fire    
upon his brain1 and had no doubt but    
that he got up his own illuminations2   
and as for the admonition1 ,beware1     
,graffam1 beware1 it doubtless came from
 the frogs1 and was interpreted by his  
own conscience4 ,snag-,orchard1 however1
 was evidently dreaded until the        
,lindsays came to live there1 when it   
became less gloomy3 for though the old  
trees with their heavy foliage were     
still there1 descending in long         
sentinel-like rows down the hill-slope1 
until the last row drooped their        
branches into the bright waters of the  

brook1 yet the rank grass around the    
house1 that had so long raised its seedy
 head1 and looked in at the windows1 was
 mowed down1 and sociable-looking       
flowers had taken its place2 and then at
 evening1 the traveler returning from   
the pond by the way of the plain1       
realized what had once been but the     
brilliant phantasy of poor ,graffam's   
brain--for though ,mrs4 ,lindsay was a  
widow1 she was neither poor nor         
deserted4 ,the reason for her coming    
there was not at that time known among  
us4 ,a gentleman who was projecting the 
plan of a settlement at the pond1 in    
reference to mill and factory           
privileges1 bargained for the ,croswell 
place1 and early in the spring this     
family took up a residence there4 ,three
 months had passed away1 and they were  
still strangers4 ,this was not from any 
want of sociability upon the part of    
their neighbors1--or from studied       
indifference upon their own part1 but   
from the time of their first coming they

 had seemed fully occupied with company4
 ,gay parties upon horse-back had       
frequently issued from the large gate1  
where in years gone by oxen had walked  
demurely in1 bearing a three-story load 
of hay4 ,the long riding-dresses and    
feathered caps of these gay riders1     
inasmuch as they were new in that       
old-fashioned place1 were judged of     
according to the several tastes of the  
farmers' wives and daughters4 ,some     
thought it pretty business for girls to 
be figuring about with men's hats1 when 
there was work enough for women folks   
within doors3 and others thought 7very  
justly too7 that the matter of this     
riding was no concern of theirs2 and    
having business enough of their own1    
they concluded to let ,mrs4 ,lindsay and
 her guests do as they pleased4 ,this   
was a wise conclusion1 since it daily   
became more and more evident that they  
had no intention of doing otherwise than
 as they pleased4 ,some of the family   
always presented themselves at church on

 the ,lord's day1 but among them ,miss  
,emma1 and an elderly woman supposed to 
be the housekeeper1 were the only       
constant attendants4 ,thus much of the  
new family at ,appledale4 ,the reader   
will learn more as we progress in our   
story4  ,i would see ,mrs4 ,lindsay and 
the young ladies1 said ,henry ,boyd1 as 
the servant opened the door4 ,henry was 
shown into the same room1 where many a  
time he had sat and talked with old ,mr4
 ,croswell1 but which now seemed to him 
like another place4 ,a handsome carpet  
now covered the white oaken floor1 and  
rich curtains partially concealed the   
windows once shaded by simple green4    
,where stood the old sideboard was now  
an elegant piano1 and luxurious chairs  
and lounges had taken the place of ,mr4 
,croswell's high-backed1 upright-looking
 furniture4 ,but ,henry was             
self-possessed2 and though there were a 
number of young ladies in the room1     
dressed in handsome morning dishabille1 
he neither stammered nor turned red1 but

 bowing easily to ,mrs4 ,lindsay1 gave  
,misses ,martha and ,emma an invitation 
to go with him and the young ladies to  
the plain4 ,mrs4 ,lindsay saw that      
,martha1 on glancing from the window at 
the rustic-looking company1 could       
scarcely suppress a smile1 so she       
courteously thanked ,henry1 and was     
about to excuse her daughters1 when     
,emma entered the room4 ,henry could not
 accuse either ,mrs4 ,lindsay or ,martha
 of impoliteness1 but he felt somehow as
 though there was a great contrast      
between this courtesy and that shown him
 by ,emma2 for she offered him her hand1
 and said1 ,it is very kind of you to   
call for us1 and if mamma pleases1 ,i   
should like to go4  ,i have no          
objection1 my love1 said ,mrs4 ,lindsay1
 provided you return before night4      
,henry assured her that they should1    
,martha respectfully declined the       
invitation1 and ,emma ran up stairs4 ,i 
am going1 said she joyfully to the      
elderly woman with whom she was often   

seen at church4 ,i am going1 ,dora2 and 
that dear little ,mary ,palmer is there4
 ,dora arose1 and pinned a thin shawl   
upon the neck of the delicate girl1 and 
while she did so1 looked affectionately 
into her white face4  ,of what are you  
thinking1 ,dora8 asked ,emma4  ,i was   
thinking1 said she1 that my lily could  
shed her fragrance beyond her own garden
 to-day4  ,o1 ,i am no lily1 said ,emma1
 half laughing1 only a poor blighted    
thing going out to steal fragrance from 
other flowers4  ,well1 darling1 said    
,dora1 you can have it without theft1   
for we can make for ourselves a garden  
of spices anywhere1 and then you know   
who will come in and eat our pleasant   
fruit4  ,emma smiled1 and nodded a      
good-by1 as she left the room4  ,what a 
singular girl is ,emma1 said one of the 
young ladies who looked from the        
keeping-room window1 as she entered the 
wagon4 ,i was glad that they had the    
courtesy to offer her a cushioned seat2 
but she has refused it1 and is riding   

off upon a box4 ,dear ,mrs4 ,lindsay1   
,emma is excessively polite4            
,mysteriously polite1 ,i call it1 said  
,mrs4 ,lindsay4 ,she seems more and more
 to lose sight of herself1 in a desire  
to make others happy2 yet before we left
 the city she often offended me by her  
disregard of fashionable etiquette4     
,yet ,emma never was offensive in her   
manners1 mamma1 said ,martha4  ,she was 
truly beloved1 ,i know it1 dear1 replied
 the lady2 but her great truthfulness   
kept me in constant jeopardy4 ,just     
think of her telling ,madam ,richards   
that people considered her too old to   
dance4  ,well1 it was a shame1 answered 
the first speaker1 for a lady of such   
excellent qualities to make herself     
ridiculous by a single foible4  ,so     
,emma thought1 said ,mrs4 ,lindsay1 and 
had the frankness to tell her so4 ,it   
turned out well enough in her case1 it  
is true2 for she told me when ,i went to
 apologize1 that ,emma had shown so much
 heartfelt interest and concern in the  

matter of her being a public            
laughing-stock1 that she was obliged not
 only to forgive1 but to love her the   
better for what ,i called a rudeness4   
,but1 continued ,mrs4 ,lindsay1 singular
 as she is1 ,i would give worlds to have
 her----  ,here the lady paused1 and    
,martha said quickly1 ,she is better1   
mother4 ,she sleeps very well now1 and  
her night-sweats are not so profuse4    
,the mother made no answer4 ,it was not 
because ,martha's hopeful words were    
unheeded1 but because mournful memories 
were at work in her heart2 and to avoid 
further conversation she arose and left 
the room4  ,mamma will look upon the    
dark side1 said ,martha1 but ,i am much 
encouraged4 ,our physician says1 that   
rambling about in the country1 running  
in the fields and woods1 climbing fences
 and trees1 if she is disposed1 will do 
wonders for ,emma3 and ,i believe it2   
for how wonderfully she has improved    
during these three months--so full of   
life1 and so full of interest in        

everybody4  ,emma had refused the       
cushioned seat1 because she saw at a    
glance that the young boy occupying that
 seat was more feeble than herself4 ,the
 name of this little boy was ,edwin4    
,emma had met him frequently in the     
woods1 and down by the brook where he   
went to fish4 ,they had thus become     
pretty well acquainted1 and from him    
,emma had learned the name of the pretty
 girl who sat in the pew in front of    
their own at church--the little girl who
 wore a black ribbon upon her bonnet1   
and whose manner in the house of prayer 
was both quiet and devout4 ,edwin had   
told her that the name of this pretty   
girl was ,mary ,palmer2 that just before
 their family came to ,appledale she had
 lost a little sister2 and that since   
then1 though very quiet and kind before1
 ,mary had been very patient1 even with 
,fanny ,brighton4 ,emma1 therefore1 was 
not wholly unprepared for the off-hand  
greeting bestowed upon her that morning 
by ,fanny4 ,on first getting into the   

wagon1 she pressed ,mary's hand without 
waiting for the ceremony of an          
introduction1 for she knew her name4    
,mary loved to have ,emma so near her2  
for though they had never spoken        
together before1 a mutual affection     
existed between them2 but the modest    
girl felt that ,henry ought to have     
given ,emma a seat beside some one who  
knew more than herself4  ,fanny         
,brighton1 thought ,mary1 is so amusing 
when she chooses to be2 ,alice ,more is 
so witty2 and the ,misses ,sliver so    
learned1 ,henry ought to have seen that 
,emma was where she would be pleasantly 
entertained2 but ,i will make amends for
 this when we get to the plain--,i will 
introduce her1 and leave her with them4 
,emma1 however1 seemed well satisfied   
with her company4 ,i have long wanted to
 speak with you1 said she4  ,that is    
very polite1 thought ,mary2 ,i suppose  
it is what well-bred people generally   
say4 ,i have really wanted to hear her  
speak1 though ,i won't say so1 for she  

will think that ,i am only trying to be 
polite4  ,emma took off her sun-bonnet  
when riding through the woods1 and told 
,mary how happy it made her to hear the 
birds sing1 and to breathe the sweet    
fragrance which came from the           
hay-meadows2 but ,mary felt diffident1  
and did not reply warmly1 as she felt4  
,she called ,emma ,miss ,lindsay2 so    
,emma felt obliged to call her ,miss    
,palmer1 though she longed to put her   
arms around her1 as they sat upon the   
box1 and call her ,mary4  ,all this time
 the company in the rear were talking in
 this way3--  ,i suppose1 said ,fanny   
,brighton1 that this little chicky-dandy
 thinks she has done us a great favor1  
by condescending to ride in a wagon1 and
 upon a box4 ,if she shows off any of   
her aristocratic airs to me1 ,i will    
soon make her understand that her room  
is better than her company4  ,what a    
milk-and-water looking thing she is1    
said ,alice ,more2 they had better have 
kept their cosset at home2 she will be  

calling1 'ma6 ma6' before night4  ,and  
we will answer1 'bah6' said ,josh       
,cheever1 as ,susan ,sliver put her hand
 over his mouth1 for fear that he would 
give a sample4  ,arrived at the plains1 
the wagons were turned a little into the
 shrubbery1 so as not to obstruct the   
passage of the narrow road2 then the    
company alighted1 while ,henry and      
,joshua led the horses to one of the    
large trees1 7of which there were1 as we
 have already said1 but few17 each      
carrying a bundle of hay under his arm4 
,in the mean time ,mary introduced the  
young ladies severally to ,emma4 ,alice 
,more professed herself very glad to see
 her2 but this profession1 for some     
reason1 seemed to give ,emma pain4      
,fanny made no professions at all1 only 
coldly nodding a how-d'ye-do1 without   
appearing to notice that ,emma wished to
 shake hands4 ,the ,misses ,sliver were 
cordial enough1 but too sentimental for 
the occasion2 ,miss ,susan1 using the   
language of some novel she had read1    

said1 she hoped to find in ,emma a      
kindred spirit2 at which remark ,fanny  
laughed outright1 saying she hoped that 
,sliver ,crook and ,snag ,orchard would 
not become etherialized4  ,i cannot talk
 in that way1 thought ,mary2 so ,i will 
go by myself1 and pick berries1 leaving 
,miss ,lindsay with them4 ,mary felt1   
however1 that she should like to be     
somewhere near ,emma2 so she only       
withdrew a little way1 sitting down     
where she could see her through the     
bushes4 ,alice chattered away very      
freely for a time1 and then wandered off
 in pursuit of ,fanny1 who1 from the    
first1 had not addressed a single word  
to ,emma4 ,but the ,misses ,sliver kept 
near her1 and seemed to be making       
themselves very agreeable4 ,mary heard  
them mention at least a dozen books1 of 
which she had not heard even the titles 
before1 and she was glad for having left
 ,emma with those who could talk of such
 matters4 ,she watched her though1 as   
she bent over the blueberry bushes1 and 

fancied that she looked sad4 ,then after
 a time she saw her sit down upon a log1
 looking very languid and weary4 ,mary  
had brought a bottle of nice milk from  
home that morning1 and the thought      
crossed her mind that a draught of that 
milk might be refreshing to ,emma2 so   
she took a bright little dipper from her
 basket1 and ran off toward the wagon4  
,where are you going1 ,mary ,palmer8    
said ,alice1 whom she met on the way4   
,miss ,lindsay looks very pale and      
tired1 said ,mary4 ,i am going to carry 
her some of my nice milk4  ,i would do  
no such thing1 said ,alice2 she is used 
to having a host of servants at her     
heels1 and thinks that we country girls 
will act as her lackies4 ,if she wants  
refreshment1 tell her where it is1 and  
let her go for it herself4  ,why1       
,alice1 replied ,mary1 you told her this
 morning that you were very glad to see 
her1 and now you have no interest in    
making her either comfortable or happy4 
,to be sure1 said ,alice2 do you suppose

 that ,i was going to say1 ',i am not at
 all glad to see you1 ,miss ,prim--,i am
 mad enough with ,henry ,boyd to pull   
his ears1 because he went to your house 
for you8' ,you would not have had me say
 so2 but these were my feelings2 so what
 am ,i to do8  ,i know what ,i would do1
 said ,mary1 firmly4 ,i would pray to   
,god until ,i had better feelings2 so   
that ,i could say from my heart1 ,i am  
glad to see you4  ,o good6 exclaimed    
,alice1 laughingly2 you are getting to  
be religious1 and ,i shall tell ,fanny3 
so look out1 little ,miss ,courtesy4    
,you are very kind1 said ,emma1 as she  
took the bright dipper of milk from     
,mary4 ,i ate but little breakfast1 and 
am very fond of milk4 ,this looks so    
nice too1 so pure and white1 in this    
clean1 shining dipper3 and ,emma sat    
looking at the milk1 as though it were a
 pity to drink it up2 and ,mary stood   
looking at her1 until she thought that  
perhaps it was not polite to do so1 and 
turned away4  ,don't go1 said ,emma1    

unless you choose to be by yourself4    
,sit down here just a minute4 ,i have   
queer thoughts about this milk2 and     
since we are all alone1 ,i will tell you
 what they are4 ,you read the ,bible1   
,ma--1--,i mean ,miss ,palmer8  ,yes2   
but call me ,mary1 if you please4 ,i am 
not used to being called ,miss4  ,well  
then1 ,mary dear1 said ,emma1 drawing   
closer to her1 as they sat upon the log1
 you remember where the ,bible speaks of
 the sincere milk of the word ,mary     
smiled2 for she was much pleased1 and a 
little surprised4 ,mrs4 ,lindsay and her
 family1 with their ,sabbath rides and  
evening dancing parties1 were not of    
course considered religious people4     
,what do you suppose1 continued ,emma1  
is meant by the sincere milk of the     
word8  ,when a very little girl1 replied
 ,mary1 father bought me a small book   
called ',milk for ,babes1' and said it  
was for children who wanted to learn the
 first principles of the doctrine of    
,christ4 ,that little book was all about

 charity4  ,was it8 said ,emma1 with    
animation1 how strange that ,i should   
have the same thoughts1 without knowing 
anything about it6 ,when you gave me    
this milk ,i thought of that passage1   
and of the one about the cup of cold    
water2 and now1 ,mary1 please to say why
 you took all this pains for me4 ,was it
 just to be polite8  ,no1 replied ,mary1
 smiling2 ,i was afraid that you might  
think me im-polite for offering you milk
 in a tin dipper1 but ,i saw you looking
 pale and tired1 and thought that it    
might do you good4  ,that was giving it 
to me in the name of a disciple1 said   
,emma1 in a low voice1 looking at the   
milk again1 as though it was now        
hallowed and blessed of ,god4 ,it is    
delicious1 said she1 taking the cup from
 her lips1 and ,i feel better4 ,i am not
 so weary2 my head aches less1 and my   
heart is refreshed4  ,then ,i have not  
lost my reward1 said ,mary4 ,but here   
come ,fanny and ,alice4 ,they are very  
entertaining1 and the day will be less  

tedious if you can manage to keep with  
them4 ,fanny is plain spoken1 but people
 call her a good-hearted girl2 and      
,alice is so funny4  ,if you please1    
replied ,emma1 ,i had rather be with    
you4 ,i am not afraid of plain-spoken   
people1 if they are kind4 ,dora is very 
careful to tell me my faults1 but then  
her manner is such that ,i can't help   
feeling that it is because she loves me 
so well2 so ,i am neither pained nor    
vexed4 ,i used to be very partial to    
funny people2 but ,i feel serious now   
nearly all of the time4 ,i can love     
,fanny and ,alice2 but1 ,mary dear1 ,i  
had rather be with you1 if you please4  
,o1 replied ,mary1 ,i love to have you  
with me4  ,she was prevented from saying
 more1 for ,alice now called out1       
,forward1 march6 ,do you hear the drum8 
,it is not probable1 said ,fanny1 that a
 religious person like ,mary ,palmer    
will march to the tune of ,yankee       
,doodle upon a kettle-drum4  ,emma      
looked at ,mary1 and saw the deep blush 

upon her face1 and the tear that1 in    
spite of herself1 trembled in her mild  
blue eye4  ,how unkind1 thought ,emma1  
and so rude too6 ,this plain-spoken girl
 has not a good heart1 if people do     
think so4 ,i shall ask ,dora about her4 
,it is the signal for dinner1 said      
,mary1 recovering herself in a minute1  
and turning with a smile toward ,emma4  
,henry wants us to go to the wagons4 ,so
 they walked along arm-in-arm1 while    
,alice and ,fanny whispered together    
about this sudden intimacy1 and         
prophesied that hot love like that would
 soon be cold4  ,i mean to tell ,mary   
just what ,i think of it1 said ,fanny2  
for ,i am not afraid to speak my mind to
 anybody4  ,well1 replied ,alice1 ,i    
cannot imagine what ,miss ,emma likes in
 ,mary1 or why ,mary is so charmed with 
her4 ,this much ,i will say1 but don't  
you name it to any one--neither of them 
is at all to my fancy4  ,it was not     
wonderful that ,alice did not know the  
secret of that affection between two who

 were comparatively strangers to each   
other4 ,the reason was not plain even to
 ,emma and ,mary1 for neither of them   
yet knew it by the ,scripture name1     
which is unity of the ,spirit4 ,each had
 loved the other while as yet no word of
 communication had passed between them1 
because each had a portion of that      
,spirit which binds heart to heart4     
,alice would not have understood this   
had it been told her1 for she had never 
entertained this gentle ,spirit4 ,she   
might have done so1 for it knocks at    
every human heart2 but there are other  
spirits there--spirits that must be cast
 out1 before that which is              
long-suffering1 meek1 and good1 will    
come in and sup with us4 ,alice would   
not cast emulation1 pride1 envy1 and    
jealousy out of her heart1 that the good
 ,spirit might enter4 ,would she have   
done so1 she might not have found it so 
difficult to understand what ,emma and  
,mary saw in each other to love4  ,the  
company was now assembled under a large 

tree near to the roadside4 ,henry had   
constructed a rude table1 over which was
 spread a cloth1 and1 assisted by       
,joshua1 he was now bringing the dinner 
from the wagon1 while the ,misses       
,sliver arranged the dishes4  ,here is a
 comfortable seat1 ,miss ,lindsay1 said 
,henry1 when the dinner was ready2 and  
he led her to a rock beside the table1  
which was covered with moss4  ,one of   
nature's verdant cushions1 said ,susan  
,sliver4  ,nature is very polite to the 
aristocracy1 whispered ,fanny1 loud     
enough to be heard2 but ,emma lifted    
little ,edwin to the rock1 saying that  
it was just high enough for him4  ,fanny
 had determined to show that she was not
 afraid to act herself anywhere1 so she 
talked about matters not at all         
interesting to the company1 taking care 
to think differently from every one who 
expressed an opinion4  ,again the       
question arose in ,emma's mind1 whether 
such rudeness could be the fruit of a   
good heart2 but she quieted herself by  

saying1 ,i will ask ,dora about it4     
,after the dinner was over1 ,miss       
,margaret ,sliver began to talk of some 
verses that ,susan had written for this 
occasion1 and insisted on drawing them  
from her pocket4 ,susan pretended great 
unwillingness2 but her sister easily    
possessed herself of the copy1 which1   
with great pathos of manner1 she read to
 the company4  ,splendid6 elegant6      
exclaimed ,alice2 but at the same time  
she stepped upon ,fanny's toe1 and gave 
her a merry sidelong glance4 ,beautiful6
 are they not1 ,mary ,palmer8  ,i am no 
judge of poetry1 said ,mary1 modestly2  
so my opinion is not worth having4  ,you
 cannot say so1 ,miss ,lindsay1         
continued ,alice1 for ,i heard you      
repeating some lines this morning4  ,did
 you1 asked ,emma1 coloring a little1   
then ,i think they must have been from a
 hymn by ,james ,montgomery1 of which ,i
 am very fond1 and sometimes repeat     
unconsciously4  ,of course1 said ,fanny1
 looking suddenly at ,emma1 you think   

,miss ,sliver equal to ,montgomery4     
,this is not the place for me to say    
whether ,i do or not1 replied ,emma1    
quietly4  ,i know1 said ,fanny1 that    
there are some people who think that the
 truth is not to be spoken at all times2
 but ,i have never yet been afraid to   
say what ,i think4  ,there are things1  
said ,henry1 of which we may not think  
rightly1 and1 understanding this1 some  
are slow to speak4  ,and who is to be   
the judge of our thoughts1 asked ,fanny1
 whether they be right or wrong8  ,all  
were silent now2 not because they had no
 answer for ,fanny's question1 but      
because they were not willing to give   
the right answer4  ,at last1 ,mary1 in a
 low voice1 replied3 ,the ,bible should 
be our rule1 both for thought and word1 
and conscience must judge between that  
and us4  ,and does the ,bible teach you 
to flatter people with your tongue1     
while you are laughing at them in your  
sleeves8 asked ,fanny4  ,no1 replied    
,mary2 but it teaches us to love our    

neighbor as ourselves1 to be courteous1 
and pitiful4  ,then ,i keep one         
requirement1 said ,fanny1 jumping over  
the log1 seated upon which she had eaten
 her dinner2 for ,i do pity people who  
are too mealy-mouthed to be             
honest--pity1 or despise them1 ,i cannot
 tell which4  ,all now had withdrawn    
from the table1 except ,emma1 ,mary1    
,joshua ,cheever1 and little ,edwin4    
,your milk is very nice1 ,mary1 said    
,eddy1 but it does not cure my thirst2  
,o ,i do want some cold water4  ,there  
is none nearer than the pond1 said      
,joshua1 unless you go to ,graffam's2   
but they are so piggish1 ,i would choke 
before ,i would ask water of them4 ,the 
last time ,i went there1 the old woman  
sent one of the young ones to tell me   
that the village folks were an          
unmannerly set1 and she wanted them to  
keep their distance4 ,i told the girl to
 give my love to her mother1 and tell   
her that she was the sweetest poppy upon
 the plain4 ,so you see that it wouldn't

 do for me to go there again2 ,i might  
get my head cracked with one of         
,graffam's rum-jugs4  ,i am not afraid  
to go1 said ,mary4 ,i have no doubt but 
that the blueberry parties are a trouble
 to ,mrs4 ,graffam4  ,mrs4 ,graffam6    
exclaimed ,joshua1 laughing4 ,nobody    
else calls her anything but ,moll1 and  
her husband1 ,pete4  ,emma now lifted   
,edwin from his seat upon the rock1 and 
taking his hand1 while ,mary brought the
 bright dipper1 they started for the    
log-house1 which looked in the distance 
like a black stump4  ,it is loving your 
neighbor better than yourself1--said the
 little boy1 looking smilingly up into  
,emma's face1--,i am sure it is1 to come
 all this way with me4  ,well1 we ought 
to love our neighbor better than        
ourselves1 replied ,mary1 who was       
walking behind4 ,we shall1 ,eddy1 if we 
are like----  ,like ,jesus8 asked ,eddy4
  ,yes1 said ,mary4 ,he didn't love     
himself at all2 but he loved us1 even   
unto death4  ,how wonderful6 said ,emma4

 ,talk some more about him1 ,mary dear1 
if you please4  ,but they were now at   
the poor door1 which swung upon its     
wooden hinges3 they were about to knock1
 when they saw a forlorn-looking woman  
come from a dark closet1 with a sick    
child in her arms4  ,poor little thing6 
said ,mary1 going toward her499 ,what is
 the matter with him1 ,mrs4 ,graffam8   
,footnote 993 ,see ,frontispiece4  ,he  
is very sick1 she replied1 glancing from
 her to the door1 when ,emma courtesied 
politely1 and ,edwin pulled off his hat4
 ,walk in1 said ,mrs4 ,graffam2 my      
children are all out upon the plain1 but
 you can help yourselves to seats4 ,then
 turning to ,mary she said again1 ,he is
 very sick1 and ,i cannot tell what is  
the matter with him1 unless it is want  
of----4 ,here she paused1 and after a   
time added1 ,he is losing all his flesh1
 poor thing6  ,yes1 said ,mary1 he looks
 as my dear little sister did just      
before she died6  ,when did she die8    
asked ,mrs4 ,graffam4  ,just as the     

grass was getting green1 said ,mary4 ,it
 was a fit time for her to die1 ,mrs4   
,graffam2 for she was born in the       
spring1 and it seemed exactly as though 
the sweet bud had to go back to the     
summer-land before it could bloom4  ,and
 if your little baby dies1 ,mrs4        
,graffam1 said ,eddy1 he will be a      
flower in ,god's garden2 won't he1      
,mary8  ,yes1 whispered ,mary1 while the
 poor woman's face flushed1 and her lip 
quivered4 ,mary glanced at ,edwin1 and  
remembered her errand4  ,mrs4 ,graffam1 
said she1 ,i know that the blue-berry   
parties must be a great trouble to you1 
and we would not have come here for     
water1 only ,eddy is not very well4     
,you are welcome to as much water as you
 want1 interrupted ,mrs4 ,graffam1 and  
so is any one who can treat us with     
civility4 ,we are very poor1 it is true1
 and that is not our greatest misfortune
 either2 but it is hard to be despised4 
,while ,mary was gone for the water1    
,emma sat looking at the sick baby1 and 

noticed1 that though the weather was    
warm1 its skeleton limbs looked blue and
 cold4 ,she was going to advise the     
mother to wrap it in flannel1 when the  
thought that perhaps the poor woman had 
none1 prevented her speaking3 for       
,christian courtesy never says to the   
poor ,be ye warmed and clothed1 while it
 provides not the things which are      
necessary2 and fortunately ,emma thought
 it time enough to speak of what the    
poor child needed1 when she had supplied
 that need4 ,edwin was greatly refreshed
 by his drink of cold water1 and kissing
 the sick child1 he thanked ,mrs4       
,graffam1 and was ready to go4  ,there  
is a good old lady living with my       
mother1 said ,emma1 who is used to      
sickness1 and might know what to do for 
your babe1 ,mrs4 ,graffam2 shall ,i ask 
her to come with me1 and see you8  ,i   
shall be glad to see anybody1 was the   
reply1 who is like you or your little   
friends2 and bidding the poor woman a   
good-by1 they went back to the plain4   

,henry ,boyd remembered his promise to  
,mrs4 ,lindsay1 and before the sun was  
down the company were on their way home4
 ,the talk and clatter of the morning   
were now hushed4 ,joshua whistled1 while
 his horse plodded lazily along1 until  
,fanny peevishly bade him hold his      
tongue4  ,anybody does that1 said       
,joshua1 when he whistles6 but he       
good-naturedly stopped4  ,margaret      
,sliver undertook to repeat some poetry 
composed by ,susan1 upon the setting    
sun3--    ,the setting sun is going down
     ,behind the western hills2   ,it   
glitters like a golden crown1----  ,what
 is the last line1 ,susan8 asked        
,margaret2 but ,susan was not flattered 
by the way her poetry had been handled  
at the dinner-table1 and now she refused
 to supply the missing rhyme4    ,the   
setting sun is going down     ,behind   
the western hills1  pursued ,margaret2  
,it glitters like a golden crown1       
,on top of ,motley's ,mills6  added     
,alice2 while ,fanny1 calling out to    

,henry ,boyd1 repeated the whole verse  
as ,susan's poetry1 bidding him ask     
,miss ,lindsay if ,montgomery could beat
 that4 ,susan was highly offended1      
saying that she considered herself      
insulted1 and chose to walk the         
remainder of the way4  ,o no1 ,miss     
,sliver1 said ,joshua2 never mind ,fanny
 ,brighton--she is only one of the blunt
 sort1 saying right to your face what   
other folks would say behind your back4 
,this explanation from ,joshua was      
rather more favorable than ,fanny       
deserved2 for she had not the faithful  
,christian charity1 which1 while it     
unflinchingly speaks truth to those whom
 it concerns1 is careful to speak no    
evil anywhere4 ,it was well known1 that 
though ,fanny boasted of not being      
afraid to tell to people's faces what   
she thought of them1 she was not less   
fearless in talking of the same things  
in their absence2 so that she differed  
from common backbiters only in having   
more--shall we call it impudence8  ,it  

is a harsh name1 but let us analyze the 
principle4 ,what spirit possesses the   
human heart1 when it shows a disposition
 to make others uncomfortable8 ,is it   
frankness--we know that it is sometimes 
dignified with that name2 though it is  
little akin to the true ,christian      
faithfulness1 which1 always at peace    
with truth1 never offends against true  
courtesy4 ,charity regards the little   
foibles incident to fallen human nature 
with a lenient eye1 never pointing them 
out to the scornful gaze of another1 but
 remembering that they are to be touched
 tenderly1 if touched at all2 secretly1 
too1 apart from the scrutiny of another1
 and by disinterested friendship alone4 
,the ,sliver girls make fools of        
themselves1 and of each other1 said     
,fanny1 when ,margaret and ,susan1      
arrived at their own house1 coldly took 
leave of the company4  ,i know it1      
replied ,alice4 ,to think that they will
 associate with us girls1 pretending to 
be young1 when everybody knows that they

 are not3 dressing1 prinking1 reading   
novels1 and making poetry2 while their  
poor old slave of a mother is making    
butter and cheese4  ,it provokes me when
 ,i think of it1 answered ,fanny2 and   
how you can flatter them so1 calling    
their dresses becoming1 and their poetry
 beautiful1 ,i cannot imagine1 when you 
know1 ,alice1 that it is all a lie4     
,well1 said ,alice1 laughingly1 ,i do it
 for fun4 ,it is so amusing to see their
 languishing airs2 and then1 ,fanny1 to 
tell the truth1 ,i have no objection to 
people's playing the fool1 if it makes  
them feel better4  ,but ,i shall hate   
you1 by-and-by1 said ,fanny1 for being a
 hypocrite4  ,guess it won't be any put 
out to you1 replied ,joshua2 for you are
 as full of hate as an egg is of meat4  
,,chapter ,,ii  ,,the ,,kind            
,,good-,,morning--,,the ,,high          
,,hill--,,unexpected                    
,,meeting--,,romance ,,and              
,,reality--,,the ,,good                 
,,farmer--,,impressions ,,of            

,,childhood--,,worshiping--,,bearing    
,,the ,,cross4   ,good-morning1 ,mr4    
,graffam1 said ,emma1 who was in the    
garden when the poor man of the plain   
passed along the road on his way to the 
mills4  ,we have before said that       
morning was not the time for this man to
 talk1 and now he felt inclined1 as     
usual1 to pass this early salutation    
without notice2 but it had been a long  
time since he had been accosted in that 
manner4 ,it was no uncommon thing for   
people to address him in this way3      
,good-morning1 ,pete6 ,feel sober after 
your last night's high1 eh8 ,but a      
respectful ,good-morning1 ,mr4 ,graffam1
 now met his ear4 ,can it be1 thought   
the fallen man1 that ,i am still ,mr41  
or are they mocking me8 ,he looked up1  
but saw neither jest nor scorn upon the 
fair face looking over the garden-wall4 
,good-morning1 sir1 repeated ,emma2 it  
is a fine morning4  ,poor ,graffam      
looked with his dull swollen eyes upon  
the bright-blue sky1 and then upon the  

wood-crowned hill1 and the shaded dell1 
where the waters rippled and murmured1  
and the birds sang cheerily1 and his    
heart caught some apprehension of       
beauty1 for he answered slowly1 ,so it  
is1 miss1--a very fine morning4  ,and   
pray1 how is your dear little babe1 sir8
 asked ,emma1 in a voice of tender      
concern4  ,this question seemed fully to
 rouse him4 ,there was a glance both of 
surprise and intelligence in his eye1 as
 he replied1 ,the child is very sick2   
and then repeated1 as though it were a  
fact new to himself1 ,yes1 that poor    
child is very sick indeed4  ,i was at   
your house yesterday1 continued ,emma1  
and promised ,mrs4 ,graffam that ,i     
would bring a good old lady living with 
us to see her2 but ,i am not well enough
 to go to-day4  ,sorry if you are sick1 
murmured ,graffam4  ,thank you1 said    
,emma4 ,i was going to ask if you would 
have the kindness just to call at the   
gate tonight1 and take a small package  
for ,mrs4 ,graffam8  ,i will1 said he1  

with a tone and manner something like   
self-respect and respect for his        
wife1--,i will1 miss1 with pleasure2 and
 he pulled his old hat from his head1   
and bowed low1 while ,emma bade him     
good-by4  ,go out upon the hills1 my    
love1 called ,mrs4 ,lindsay from her    
window to ,emma2 it will do you no good 
to be tying-up flowers1 and talking with
 ragged old men by the roadside4 ,put on
 your bonnet1 and walk briskly over the 
bridge1 and let me see you from my      
window upon the top of yonder hill4     
,emma cheerfully obeyed1 and though she 
felt extremely languid1 compelled       
herself to walk briskly as her mother   
had desired2 but coming to the foot of  
the hill she paused1 and looked         
doubtfully upon its steep sides and     
lofty top4 ,it reminds me of 'the ,hill 
,difficulty1' thought ,emma2 but the    
,christian pilgrim did not allow himself
 to stop and think over the             
difficulties1 but 'addressed himself to 
his journey4' ,so must ,i3 and ceasing  

to look at the top1 but only at the     
place for her feet1 step by step1 she at
 length gained the summit1 and waved her
 handkerchief toward the house4 ,the    
signal was answered from her mother's   
window1 and then she sat down upon a    
rock to rest4 ,but the morning was too  
dazzlingly beautiful there4 ,she felt   
oppressed by the glory of distant       
mountains1 sparkling rivers1 and        
wide-spread fields of corn and grain2   
but looking down a gentle slope of the  
hill she saw a delightful place--it was 
a bend of the little brook gliding      
through the meadow-ground of ,appledale4
 ,the pines had cast their spiral leaves
 there1 so that the hill-side and the   
borders of the rill looked as though    
covered with sunlight1 though there was 
in fact nothing but shade1 for the trees
 clustered together1 and locked their   
green arms1 as if to shut the brook from
 day-light2 yet close upon the borders  
of that brook ,emma saw a large flat    
rock1 around which the waters played1   

looking so cool and inviting that she   
longed to be there4 ,she put her hand   
into her pocket1 and found1 to her joy1 
that the dear companion of her rambles  
was there3 it was her ,bible4 ,happy for
 ,emma1 she had learned to prize its    
gentle converse above that of human     
tongues2 and now1 sitting down upon her 
feet1 she smiled to see how glassy the  
pine leaves had made the hill-slope1 for
 she could slide along with but little  
exertion1 and soon found herself upon   
the broad flat rock4 ,taking her little 
,bible1 she was just turning to some    
passages ,dora had marked1 when she     
heard a deep sigh1 and saw1 to her      
surprise1 ,susan ,sliver seated upon a  
moss-turf1 crying bitterly4  ,i am close
 to ,sliver ,crook1 thought ,emma1 now  
for the first time noticing the house   
not far beyond the trees4 ,this may be  
,miss ,susan's place of retirement1 and 
,i have no right here2 but ,i cannot get
 away now without being seen2 and then  
she seems unhappy4 ,i should be glad to 

comfort her1 if ,i could without----    
,just at that moment ,susan looked up1  
and saw ,emma1 who sprang from the rock1
 and running toward her1 said3 ,i was   
not aware of a trespass upon your       
grounds1 ,miss ,sliver4 ,you will pardon
 me4 ,it looked so inviting here1 that  
,i was constrained to come down from the
 hill4  ,susan1 however1 did not appear 
at all embarrassed at being caught in   
tears4  ,she wiped her face with her    
apron1 and then ,emma saw an open book  
upon her knee4 ,my dear ,miss ,lindsay1 
said ,susan1 it is no intrusion4 ,i am  
glad to find a congenial spirit         
anywhere4 ,my joy at this meeting is    
inexpressible2 for now ,i know that     
there is one in this cold-hearted place1
 one beside my sister ,margaret1 who can
 appreciate my feelings4  ,emma was     
silent2 for she did not understand what 
those feelings were1 or whether she     
appreciated them or not4  ,prom my      
childhood1 continued ,susan1 ,i have    
been among the people of my race1 but   

not of them4 ,i have stood alone1 in a  
shroud of thoughts1 which were not their
 thoughts2 but few understand me1 my    
dear1 for ,i live in an ideal world1 and
 whatever calls me back to this gross   
creation1 makes me perfectly miserable3 
say1 my dear ,miss ,lindsay1 are these  
your feelings8  ,alas1 no1 replied      
,emma2 ,i love the world too well1 and  
have spent many wretched1 sleepless     
nights because ,i was unwilling to leave
 it3 but that time is passed4 ,if ,i    
have any fear now1 it is that my work on
 earth will not be well done before ,i  
am called away4  ,susan turned a        
wondering eye upon the pale1            
weary-looking girl1 and for a moment    
forgot her intense sympathy for herself4
 ,you are sick1 said she1 with an       
expression of real interest and concern4
  ,yes1 replied ,emma1 that is evident4 
,my friends have tried to hide it from  
me1 and from themselves4 ,they have sent
 me from place to place1 but death is   
following me everywhere4 ,i never felt  

it so surely as ,i do this morning3 and 
,emma laid her head upon the moss-turf  
beside ,susan4 ,she looked like a faded 
lily1 as she lay there2 her white dress 
scarcely more white than the forehead   
and cheek upon which her dark damp hair 
rested heavily4 ,susan took a           
handkerchief from her pocket1 and wrung 
it in the clear1 cool waters of the     
brook1 and kneeling upon the ground     
beside ,emma1 wiped her pale face1 and  
tucking up her sleeves1 chafed her poor 
withered arms1 until ,emma revived4     
,thank you1 said she2 ,i was a little   
faint4 ,mamma is so desirous for me to  
exercise in the open air1 that ,i go    
every day to the farthest limit of my   
strength4 ,i was not able to climb that 
hill this morning4  ,susan made no      
reply1 but sat looking mournfully into  
her face4 ,all the morning she had been 
weeping over the sorrows of an imaginary
 being whom she had found in a novel    
wandering about1 and falling at every   
step into the most superlative misery4  

,it was hard for ,susan to read1 and not
 identify herself with this beautiful   
suffering shadow2 but now she had come  
from her ideal world1 and was forced1   
for a time1 to forget both the shadow   
and herself4 ,close to her father's old 
farm-house1 and in the woods of         
,sliver-,crook1 she saw what1 described 
in a romance1 would have been pathetic  
enough1 but which1 seen in reality1     
called out from her heart the good      
rational sympathy which1 though buried  
in sentimental rubbish1 was not dead4   
,do you really think1 said she1 bending 
over ,emma1 that you must----  ,emma    
smiled1 as she replied1 ,what difficulty
 we find in pronouncing that word6 ,one 
would think that there was a sting in   
the very name of death3 and so there is1
 ,miss ,sliver1 until ,god gives us the 
victory1 through ,jesus ,christ4  ,jesus
 was a beautiful character1 said ,susan1
 taking up ,emma's ,bible1 beside which 
the red-covered novel lay blushing as if
 in an agony of shame4 ,i have often    

felt1 she continued1 a strong desire to 
visit the places hallowed by his        
personal ministry2 the garden where he  
kept his sad night-watch1 ,miss         
,lindsay2 the ,mount of ,olives1 and the
 clear-gliding ,kedron4 ,o1 continued   
,susan1 enthusiastically1 ,i should like
 to stand where the ,marys stood1 on the
 dreadful day of his crucifixion1 and   
visit the tomb where they went1 bearing 
sweet spices4 ,o1 wouldn't it be        
delightful8  ,yes1 replied ,emma1       
languidly2 but we should not find him   
there now1--upon ,calvary1 or the ,mount
 of ,olives2 by the sweet-gliding       
,kedron1 or in the ,garden of           
,gethsemane1--unless we were like him1  
meek and lowly1 and such can find him   
anywhere1 ,miss ,sliver4 ,the spirit of 
,jesus would hallow this book1 making it
 blessed and holy like the waters of    
,kedron2 and this high hill might be to 
us what the ,mount of ,olives was to the
 disciples--for that was sacred only    
because ,jesus talked with them there4  

,dora told me last night that the ,holy 
,spirit could make any place holy4      
,susan was silent4 ,emma had spoken     
words to which something within bore    
witness as truth1 and she knew not what 
to say4 ,emma1 too1 lay musing for some 
time2 and then raising her head1 and    
resting it upon her hand1 she said3 ,how
 wonderfully self-denying ,jesus was1   
,miss ,sliver4 ,nobody appreciated the  
,saviour when he was upon earth1 not    
even the disciples2 yet this was nothing
 to him1 for he did not seek his own    
glory4 ,he went cheerfully about his    
,father's work1 never thinking of       
himself1 and never feeling himself      
degraded by the presence of a poor1     
sick1 sinful multitude4  ,i know it1    
said ,susan1 thoughtfully2 but the world
 will never see another ,jesus1 ,miss   
,lindsay4  ,o1 it will1 it will1 replied
 ,emma1 with animation4 ,when human     
hearts are willing to let his ,spirit   
dwell in them1 human hands will do the  
work which ,jesus did2 and so his       

kingdom will come1 and the world will   
see and acknowledge their ,king4  ,a    
shrill blast from a horn1 at the        
farm-house across the brook1 now        
interrupted their conversation4  ,it is 
time for me to go home1 said ,susan2 but
 ,i shall not consent to leave you to   
climb that hill again today--you must go
 to our house1 and stay until you are   
rested4  ,this kind decision of manner1 
so unlike anything she had before seen  
in ,susan ,sliver1 quite interested     
,emma4 ,she did not feel averse to a    
further acquaintance1 and taking her arm
 they crossed the rustic bridge1 and    
were soon at the farm-house4 ,an elderly
 man1 wearing a ,quaker hat1 had just   
entered1 and ,emma heard him talking to 
a good-looking old lady1 who1 both warm 
and tired1 was vehemently beating a     
minute pudding4 ,thee looks tired1      
,sarah2 where are the girls8  ,can't say
 where ,susan is1 was the reply4        
,margaret is up stairs1 sewing4  ,well1 
there is a time for everything1 and the 

girls are old enough to know it2 but    
here comes ,susan4 ,come1 ,susan1 thee  
ought to be helping thy mother these hot
 days2 but who is this friend8  ,mrs4   
,lindsay's daughter1 said ,susan4  ,emma
 might have saved her graceful courtesy 
this time2 for the old gentleman did not
 return it by taking off his            
broad-brimmed hat3 yet she felt the     
sincere politeness of his manner1 as1   
offering his hand1 he said1 ,i am glad  
to see thee1 child2 how is thy mother8  
,very well1 thank you1 said ,emma1      
taking a seat upon the cushioned chair1 
which ,susan brought and placed near the
 open door4  ,the old lady was not less 
cordial in her manner toward their      
visitor2 but she seemed in a great hurry
 to get dinner upon the table1 for the  
men were coming from the field1 and the 
sun had crossed the noon-mark4  ,emma   
was glad to see ,susan taking hold to   
help her mother2 and presently ,margaret
 came down stairs1 dressed a little too 
much1 and a little too girlish1 but     

appearing very kind and good-natured4   
,what shall ,i call thy name8 asked the 
old gentleman4  ,emma1 if you please1   
was the reply4  ,well1 then1 ,emma1 he  
continued1 thee is welcome to our table2
 take thy chair along1 and eat dinner   
with us4  ,emma felt but little appetite
 for a farmer's dinner2 but she saw that
 the family would feel more comfortable 
if she was at the table with them1 and  
prompted1 not by appetite1 but by true  
courtesy1 she did as she was desired4   
,the farmer folded his hands1 and the   
whole family sat for a moment in rigid  
silence4 ,emma was not accustomed to any
 form of thanksgiving before meat2 but  
she understood this silent expression1  
and sympathized therein4  ,thee looks   
delicate1 said the old man2 what shall  
,i give thee to eat1 ,emma8  ,anything1 
sir1 answered ,emma1 with habitual      
politeness1 though she did feel a       
preference for the milk which came up to
 the very rim of a large pitcher upon a 
corner of the table4  ,margaret began to

 apologize for the coarseness of their  
meal3 but her father interposed1 saying1
 ,it is good enough for well people1 and
 as good as we generally have2 but if   
thee has anything a little nice for a   
poor appetite1 bring it to thy friend4  
,now1 thought ,emma1 ,christian         
politeness bids me put them at ease in  
this respect4 ,so she said frankly1 ,i  
would rather have a glass of your nice  
milk than anything else4  ,thy wants are
 easily supplied then1 replied the good 
man1 as he filled her tumbler1 and laid 
a slice of bread upon her plate4  ,again
 ,emma thought of the sincere milk of   
the word1 and looking at the plain old  
farmer1 she wondered if he had not grown
 to the stature of a ,christian1 by     
means of this simple charity4  ,has thee
 been long out of health8 asked the     
farmer4  ,emma was not startled by this 
question1 though her mother and sister1 
had they been present1 would have       
considered it a rudeness4  ,i was very  
healthy when a little child1 replied    

,emma4 ,this feebleness came on me by   
degrees1--,i can scarcely tell when it  
commenced4  ,very likely1 replied the   
farmer4 ,i lost two sisters by          
consumption2 they appeared much as thee 
does4  ,father6 exclaimed ,margaret2 and
 the old gentleman recollected himself4 
,i don't conclude from this1 said he1   
that thy case is one of consumption3 and
 he looked kindly into ,emma's face1 as 
though desiring to be both considerate  
and sincere4  ,it would not alarm me to 
hear you call it by that name1 replied  
,emma4 ,i am in the habit of regarding  
death as at the door2 and wish so to do1
 because ,i am thus constantly reminded 
that what my hands find to do must be   
done with my might4  ,i am glad to hear 
such a testimony from thee1 said the old
 man1 earnestly4 ,it is a pity that any 
of us should forget the work to be done 
in this world1 and the shortness of     
time4  ,the dinner was now over1 and    
,emma1 greatly refreshed1 shook hands   
with the farmer and his family1         

promising to call again2 and then took  
the short way of the main road to her   
own home4 ,the old man looked after her1
 as her white dress glanced through the 
green trees by the roadside1 until she  
descended the hill1 and was out of      
sight4  ,what does thee think of that   
child1 ,sarah8 he asked1 turning to his 
wife4  ,well1 ,enoch1 was the reply2 ,i 
think that she is ripening for glory4   
,the good woman was not of the same     
religious persuasion with her husband2  
but this small matter never interrupted 
the most cordial interchange of         
religious sympathy between them2 and now
 his eyes filled with tears1 and he felt
 as he had often done before1 that the  
,spirit moved ,sarah to give this       
testimony4  ,margaret1 said he1 turning 
to his daughter1 thee can learn a great 
deal from that child1 though she is much
 younger than thyself4  ,margaret felt  
the slight pettishness which always     
attended a reference to her age1 and was
 about to ask her father how he knew her

 to be much older than ,emma ,lindsay2  
but a more rational feeling had been    
roused in her heart1 and for once it    
predominated over this folly4  ,margaret
 was not like her sister in the matter  
of romance and abstraction from         
every-day scenes and pursuits1 though   
she loved to regard ,susan as something 
wonderful1 and show off her literary    
productions4 ,margaret's foible1 on the 
contrary1 was too great a love for the  
present world4 ,unfortunately1 she had  
fixed her heart upon what is too        
evanescent for the love of an immortal4 
,youth1 beauty1 and the graces of       
fashion were the shadows at whose shrine
 she worshiped1 though the substance was
 gone4 ,thus precious time was spent in 
seeking to repair its own breaches1 and 
she saw not that they widened day by    
day--saw not how the cunning device by  
which she sought to hide the footprint  
of years1 only left that foot-print more
 visible4 ,god had given both ,margaret 
and ,susan better food for the immortal 

mind1 but they1 like many others1 chose 
to feed upon the wind4 ,no wonder that  
they were ever unsatisfied4 ,the plain  
people of that region1 who boasted of   
nothing superior to common sense1       
regarded the ,sliver girls as           
curiosities4 ,some called them soft1 and
 thought there was a lack of head       
wisdom2 many laughed about them2 but no 
one1 save ,fanny ,brighton1 laughed at  
them4 ,their parents were highly        
esteemed2 and it may be a matter of     
wonder how they came to be what they    
were4 ,the cast of human character is   
usually taken in childhood--an important
 fact to those charged with so          
responsible a trust2 and it was during  
,margaret and ,susan's childhood1 that a
 vain and sentimental lady sojourned for
 two summers at their father's house4   
,the unsuspecting farmer and his wife   
never thought of examining the stock of 
books with which she loaded the old case
 in the fore-room4 ,having no time for  
reading except ,sundays1 uncle ,enoch   

never expected to get through ,barclay's
 ,apology1 without neglecting his       
,bible1 and this he had no intention of 
doing4 ,it was not1 therefore1 to be    
expected1 that he would spend time to   
read even the titles of ,mrs4           
,coolbroth's books4 ,but ,margaret and  
,susan1 bright1 sensible children then1 
were beginning to feel the thirst often 
felt in childhood--the restless craving 
of the spirit for something new3 no     
wonder1 then1 that they seized the fruit
 so pleasant to the eye1 and as it      
seemed to them desirable to make one    
wise4 ,thus the poor girls were lured   
from the plain homely path1 which1 plain
 and homely as it is1 always proves at  
last the way of pleasantness and the    
path of peace4 ,they knew that people   
called them odd1 and in this they       
gloried4 ,fanny ,brighton they regarded 
as a rude girl1 who1 though she vexed   
them1 never put them out of humor with  
themselves4 ,but now1 strange as it may 
appear1 the quiet ,christian words and  

manner of ,emma ,lindsay had done this1 
and they could not tell why4 ,those     
words and that manner1 so courteous and 
kind1 were not calculated to wound1 yet 
they felt wounded4 ,emma had not done   
it--it was the truth dwelling in her    
heart1 and showing itself in its most   
appropriate dress1 which is ,christian  
courtesy of manner4  ,margaret sat down 
that afternoon1 with a desire to redeem 
some of the time which1 when she thought
 of ,emma1 seemed indeed to be passing  
away2 and ,susan1 when she meditated on 
what ,emma had said of ,him who never   
scorned the humble paths of usefulness1 
and through his life-long went about    
doing good1 felt that it was time to    
examine the spirit that would worship1  
without bearing the ,saviour's cross4   
,,chapter ,,iii4  ,,the ,,poor ,,woman  
,,of ,,the ,,plain--,,the               
,,note--,,mournful ,,musings--,,the     
,,cup ,,of ,,tea--,,the                 
,,struggle--,,charity ,,and             
,,self--,,emma',s ,,history4   ,seated  

upon her low door-stone was ,mrs4       
,graffam1 the poor woman of the plain4  
,it was almost night2 the sun had gone  
down1 leaving a long red line upon the  
western horizon1 which cast a lurid ray 
upon the gathering twilight4 ,the poor  
children of that log-house were fast    
asleep3 for all that day they had been  
out upon the plain1 where the sun1 from 
a cloudless sky1 glared down upon them2 
and now the evening shade was beautiful1
 and so soothing too1 that neither the  
hard pallet of straw1 nor the hungry    
musquitoes could drive sleep from eyes  
so weary4 ,the sick babe was asleep too3
 all day it had moaned in its           
comfortless little cradle1 for the      
mother had work to do--hard work1 and   
abundant--for a family so large and     
poor4 ,heavily sat poor ,mrs4 ,graffam  
upon the door-stone1 waiting1 she could 
not tell for what4 ,many years before   
she had waited at twilight for her      
husband's return1 and listened1 as the  
wind rustled the leaves1 because she    

loved to go out and meet him as he      
neared their home4 ,but those years were
 gone1 and with them the lovelight and  
beauty of both heart and home4 ,the     
contrast between that barren1 desolate  
plain and her former home1 was not      
greater than the contrast between the   
glad heart of other years1 and the one  
sinking despairingly as she sat upon the
 door-stone that night4  ,at last she   
heard a heavy step along the path       
leading from the narrow road to that    
lone hut2 but the sound of that step    
only deepened the shadow that gloomed   
around her4 ,she sat motionless2 and    
there was something in her manner like  
the resignation of a stricken1 but      
trusting heart3 but it was not that2 it 
was only the sullen gloom of despair4   
,nearer and nearer drew the footstep1   
and she rose from her seat1 that her    
poor besotted husband might pass to his 
bed of straw2 but he did not pass       
in1--he only looked at her for a moment1
 and then averted his eye1 for very     

shame because she had perceived that he 
was not drunk4 ,the bag which he had    
carried week after week to the mills and
 brought home every night empty1 because
 he deemed rum more necessary for       
himself than food for his family1 was   
now filled with flour2 but he said      
nothing1 and she too was silent1 as she 
followed him into the hut1 and took the 
large basket which he offered her4      
,opening this basket1 she found a note1 
and returning to the door1 read as      
follows3--  ,,mrs4 ,,graffam3--,dear    
,madam1--,i was not able to come and    
fetch our good ,dora to see you to-day2 
but your husband has kindly promised to 
call this evening1 and take the little  
matters which ,i have put up for the    
dear sick baby2 and to-morrow1 if it    
please ,god1 we will see you at your own
 house4  ,your friend1 ,,emma ,,lindsay4
  ,graffam looked at his wife as she    
came in with the note1 and1             
notwithstanding she had lately spoken   
very harsh words to him1 he pitied her1 

and somehow felt as though she was not  
greatly to blame for calling him an     
unfeeling brute4 ,on the other hand1 as 
,mrs4 ,graffam took the things from the 
basket1 she glanced toward her husband1 
and thought to herself1 ,he is sober    
to-night1 and it is all owing to the    
kind politeness of that dear girl4 ,his 
self-respect is not entirely gone1 for  
he would not appear drunk before ,emma4 
,if ,i could command patience to treat  
him with civility1 there might be some  
hope in that2 so turning toward him she 
asked1 ,have you taken supper1 ,mr4     
,graffam8  ,the poor man hesitated4 ,he 
was really hungry2 for that which had   
proved to him both victuals and drink1  
was now wanting2 but he feared to speak 
of his hunger1 lest his wife should say1
 ,the children have no rum to drink1 and
 it takes all the food ,i can supply1 to
 keep them from starving4  ,here is a   
nice loaf of bread1 continued ,mrs4     
,graffam1 cheerfully1 as she took the   
things from the basket1 and a paper of  

tea2 ,miss ,emma could not have intended
 these for poor little ,sammy3 so1 if   
you please1 ,mr4 ,graffam1 just light a 
fire under the kettle1 and ,i will make 
you a cup of tea4  ,and a cup for       
yourself1 said ,graffam1 as he lighted  
the dry sticks in the large stone       
chimney1 and then peered into the       
corners of the room in search of his    
children4  ,they are all asleep1 said   
his wife2 and the poor man turned       
quickly toward the fire again1 for he   
feared that she would add1 ,the poor    
creatures have been out upon the plains 
all day3 ,heaven knows what we shall do 
when the berries are gone4 ,but ,mrs4   
,graffam said nothing more4 ,she set out
 the pine table1 and going to an old    
chest brought a white cloth2 it was of  
bird's-eye diaper4 ,graffam remembered  
well who wove it2 and a pleasant vision 
came along with that white table-cloth4 
,he saw his mother1 as in olden times1  
weaving2 while he stood by her side1    
wondering at the skill with which she   

sent the shuttle through its wiry arch1 
and noticing how the little matter of   
adding thread to thread filled the cloth
 beam little by little1 until the long  
web was done4 ,such is life1 thought    
,graffam2 the little by little of human 
action goes to fill up the warp of time1
 and decides the worth of what we       
manufacture for eternity4 ,then he      
looked sadly over his own work1 and     
could but say to himself1 ,it is all    
loose ends1 loose ends4 ,what a web for 
eternity6  ,supper is ready1 said ,mrs4 
,graffam1 and the poor man turned toward
 the table4 ,the white loaf was there1  
and a basin of the berries his little   
ones had picked from the plain4 ,in a   
solitary cup 7for it was the only one   
saved from their wreck of crockery7     
,graffam saw his tea1 and offered to    
exchange with his wife for the broken   
mug1 into which was poured a scanty     
portion for herself4  ,no1 thank you1   
said she1 this is very well2 and they   
were seated at the table4  ,it was upon 

the whole a cheerful meal4 ,it seemed as
 though each one had been a long        
journey1 and had just returned2 they    
were pleased with each other1 and talked
 of old acquaintances1 and other days1  
themes upon which they had held no      
converse for a long1 long time past4    
,as their supper was finished1 the      
little one in the cradle moaned again1  
and ,mrs4 ,graffam brought from the     
basket a long flannel dress1 and put it 
upon wee bit1 gently rubbing its blue   
limbs2 then1 with something of the      
freedom and confidence of other days1   
she laid poor baby upon its father's    
knee1 and going again to the friendly   
basket1 brought thence a bottle1 from   
which she dropped a little fine-flavored
 cordial into warm water4 ,the babe     
opened its large eyes upon its mother1  
as though wondering what it could be    
that was so good upon its poor little   
tongue and lip2 then rubbing its tiny   
hands up and down the flannel dress1 it 
looked smilingly into the father's face1

 and uttered an expressive goo6 ,the    
parent was not quite dead in that       
father's heart1 though long buried      
beneath the waves of selfish indulgence4
 ,he looked upon that poor little       
creature1 and wondered that he could    
ever forget one so suffering and        
dependent4 ,the baby feels better1 said 
,graffam to his wife2 and he thought to 
himself1 ,i too should feel better1     
could ,i break my chains and be a man4  
,through most of that night ,graffam    
thought the same thing1 and wondered if 
it could be done4 ,i have dug my own    
grave1 thought he1 and officious hands  
have helped me in2 they have cast over  
me the dirt of scorn and ridicule1 until
 ,i am well-nigh buried alive4 ,o1 if   
there was left in others one particle of
 respect1 ,i might come forth from this 
grave6 ,i know that ,i might1 from the  
little of kindness and civility shown me
 this day4 ,i was once respected1 and so
 was my wife2 but ,i have dragged her   
down1 down with me4 ,it is a shame1 for 

she is worthy a better fate4 ,thus      
thought poor ,graffam through many hours
 of that night1 and in the morning he   
turned from his hut again1 with but     
little hope of seeing it as he did then1
 with open eyes1 from which his soul    
looked forth2 thinking1 hoping1 fearing1
 yet ready to struggle once more for    
life4  ,it was a beautiful morning1 and 
,emma sat beside the open window1 less  
languid than she had been the day       
before4 ,dora was putting things in     
order1 when ,emma asked this            
question3--,through what medium do we   
see people1 ,dora1 when we discover     
nothing but their faults8  ,through the 
medium of self1 was the ready reply4 ,if
 there is anything offensive in a       
person1 self is nettled on its own      
account1 and in its excitement sees     
nothing but the offense4  ,how would    
charity act toward a person whose       
manners are extremely rude8 asked ,emma4
  ,charity is always giving1 replied    
,dora1 while it exacts nothing4 ,it is  

never jealous of its own dignity4 ,it   
never behaveth itself unseemly2 but     
beareth1 hopeth1 and endureth all       
things1 even from those who know nothing
 of its own sweet expression--courtesy4 
,i must see ,fanny ,brighton again1     
thought ,emma1 and ask ,charity to lend 
me her eyes1 that ,i may see if there is
 nothing good in her2 or if ,i can      
manage to put out the eyes of self1 by  
seeing nothing through this medium1     
perhaps charity will become eyes to the 
blind4  ,it was by the blessing of ,god 
upon the humble efforts of that pious   
old lady called ,dora1 that ,emma had   
become what she was4 ,mrs4 ,lindsay was 
a worldly woman1 and the time had been  
when she had no higher hopes for her    
children than to see them richly gifted 
with worldly accomplishments4 ,her two  
eldest daughters1 ,helen and ,amanda1   
had been models in this respect2 and for
 a season the mother rejoiced in this   
pride of her eyes4 ,but there is a      
strange intruder often found where he is

 least desired1 and never retiring      
simply because his presence is          
deprecated--that is death4 ,who has not 
entertained this uninvited guest8  ,when
 ,helen and ,amanda began to droop1 as  
,emma now did1 ,dora was the oldest     
servant in ,mrs4 ,lindsay's family1 and 
highly esteemed1 both on account of her 
fidelity and her pleasing manners4      
,there is something peculiar about      
,dora1 ,mrs4 ,lindsay would say1 she is 
never untruthful and never impolite2 two
 ideas which1 in the eyes of fashionable
 etiquette1 seem antagonistic4 ,it was  
not1 however1 until her daughters began 
to show symptoms of decline1 that ,mrs4 
,lindsay understood this peculiarity in 
,dora4  ,you must turn that religious   
woman out of your house1 said the       
physician1 or ,i cannot save your       
daughters4 ,and ,dora was severely      
reprimanded by her mistress for the     
extreme discourtesy of offering to read 
to the young ladies from the ,bible4    
,what can she think8 asked ,helen1 with 

concern4 ,the doctor says that ,i shall 
be well in a few days2 but ,dora looks  
serious1 and offers to read to me from  
the ,bible4 ,you will not have me       
deceived1 mamma8  ,no1 love1 said her   
mother1 trying to persuade her own heart
 that there was no cause for alarm4     
,dora is religious1 and such people     
always have fits of being disobliging4  
,she is extremely kind to me in         
everything else1 said the poor girl2 it 
is only in this thing that she makes me 
unhappy4  ,she shall make you unhappy no
 more2 ,i will forbid her to approach   
your room4 ,and so she did4 ,dora was   
accused of impertinence1 and felt most  
keenly that truth and the world's       
etiquette were at war4  ,days passed on1
 and there were serious faces1 more than
 one1 in that house where it was        
impertinent to speak of death and       
eternity4 ,it is true1 that for a time  
gay visitors were admitted to ,helen's  
chamber1 and there was hollow laughter  
there1 as they talked of balls1 parties1

 and new fashions1 and told the poor    
girl that she was looking better every  
day3 but ,dora saw them whisper1 and    
shake their heads to each other as they 
passed out2 and she saw that every day  
the mother grew more fearful as it      
regarded the daughter1 and kinder toward
 herself4  ,at last she was told that   
,helen wanted her2 but she was charged  
to be careful1 as the poor girl was     
extremely weak4  ,dora1 ,dora1 said     
,helen1 you will tell me the truth4     
,mother said that ,i should not be      
deceived2 but ,i have been1 ,o1 ,i have 
been cruelly deceived4  ,dora talked    
soothingly of ,him who is the           
resurrection and the life3 but the poor 
girl had opened her eyes all too        
suddenly upon the startling picture of  
death2 and now shrinking from his cold  
embrace1 she could not hear of hope and 
comfort4 ,her dying words were to the   
mother fraught with keenest anguish1 for
 she spoke of this cruel deceit unto the
 last4 ,amanda soon followed her young  

sister to the tomb2 but the mother was  
spared the self-accusation and bitter   
sorrow attendant upon ,helen's death4   
,early in her sickness ,amanda was      
consigned to the care of ,dora4 ,it was 
in vain that the physician expostulated2
 ,mrs4 ,lindsay feared nothing so much  
as again to hear words of reproof from a
 dying child for having deceived her4   
,dora kept her post with ,christian     
fidelity1 and ,amanda entered the dark  
valley and shadow of death fearing no   
evil4  ,emma was at that time five years
 of age1 and ,martha ten4 ,my dear      
madam1 said ,dora1 fashion has robbed   
you of a great treasure4 ,your          
daughters1 predisposed to consumption1  
cannot safely obey its whimsical        
demands4  ,nonsense1 ,dora6 replied     
,mrs4 ,lindsay4 ,but when alone1 she    
thought seriously upon what the good    
woman had said4 ,memory brought before  
her mind pictures from which she could  
not turn4 ,the thin-soled shoes1 and    
silken hose1 in which fashion had       

required her delicate daughters to      
promenade the damp walks of the city2   
the flimsy ball-dress1 the prolonged    
dance1 and joined with these1 the sudden
 exposure to a wintry air1 were shades  
upon the bright picture of pleasures    
past1--dark shades indeed1 but awfully  
true4  ,perhaps ,martha and ,emma may be
 spared to me1 said the mother to her   
fashionable friends2 but how can ,i     
think of the conditions6 and her friends
 talked over the matter among           
themselves1 and concluded that1 after   
all1 a person's life was of but little  
value1 if they must live secluded from  
the world2 and they gave ,mrs4 ,lindsay 
a remote hint1 that it was best to let  
her daughters live while they lived4    
,mrs4 ,lindsay1 however1 had more than  
once stood upon the threshold of another
 life1 having followed a husband and two
 daughters to the silent tomb3 and in   
her secret heart she suspected the small
 value of what she had purchased at so  
great a cost4 ,it seemed hard indeed to 

deprive her beautiful children of a     
fashionable education1 and the struggle 
was very severe2 but the mother         
triumphed over worldly vanity1 and      
,monsieur de la ,beaumont was told that 
his services in the family as           
dancing-master were no longer desired4  
,one strange ting6 said monsieur2 and   
the world at large thought the same4    
,mrs4 ,lindsay considered herself as    
having made a great sacrifice to        
affection1 and sometimes feared that she
 might live to see the day when she     
should wish her little novices out of   
sight1 somewhere4 ,one thing she        
determined on1 however2 and that was to 
take as much of the world as she could  
get herself1 and thus solace herself for
 what she was to lose in her daughters4 
,it cannot be supposed1 that with this  
resolution the mother would reserve time
 for the care and culture of these      
little ones1 who were given over to     
,dora with but one hope--the forlorn    
one--that she would save them alive4    

,this the old lady could not promise to 
do2 for she understood that having the  
sentence of death in ourselves1 we are  
not to trust human means and            
precautions1 but only ,him who raiseth  
the dead4 ,she1 however1 cheerfully     
undertook the precious charge committed 
to her trust2 glad from her heart that  
the poor lambs had been saved from the  
slaughter1 and praying most earnestly   
that they might be claimed by the ,great
 ,shepherd1 and gathered to his fold4   
,martha was a very quiet1 thoughtful    
child1 with speech and manner much      
beyond her years2 she was not1          
therefore1 strictly confined to the     
nursery1 but allowed to mingle freely   
with her mother's guests4 ,emma1 on the 
contrary1 was much younger1 and full of 
wayward humors4 ,she greatly needed a   
mother2 but the sacred writer has       
declared1 ,she that liveth in pleasure  
is dead while she liveth4 ,how many     
little hearts have proved the bitterness
 of that truth6 ,god in mercy saved     

little ,emma from this sad experience1  
by raising up for her infancy and       
childhood such a friend as was the      
pious1 faithful ,dora4  ,it is a        
promising bud1 thought the good woman1  
but it may wither even without the      
blight of fashion2 so ,i will try to    
secure for it an immortal bloom4  ,thus 
in the morning ,dora sowed her seed1 the
 good seed for an immortal harvest2 and 
soon the tender blade began to appear--a
 most ungainly thing in the eyes of her 
mother2 for the first fruit of ,dora's  
good seed1 as shown by little ,emma1 was
 a great love of truth--a love which as 
yet she knew not how to regulate or     
apply4 ,she was a beautiful child2 and  
for a time her mother's vanity was      
gratified by having her brought from the
 nursery to her drawing-rooms1 to be    
caressed1 admired1 and praised for her  
smart speeches2 but after a time her    
truth-telling propensity became too     
evident4 ,the polite occupants of the   
drawing-room began to whisper among     

themselves that ,miss ,emma was a       
spoiled child1 and had better be kept in
 the nursery4  ,mrs4 ,lindsay was soon  
of the same opinion2 for scarcely a day 
passed when ,emma's truthfulness did not
 prove a nettle to her own vanity4  ,the
 child is rude1 she would say to        
,dora1--insufferably so4 ,she told      
,madame ,a4 that she looked like an     
apple-tree2 which might have been taken 
for a compliment1 had not the saucy     
little sprite explained herself by      
pointing to that old tree in the garden 
which the flowering shrubbery has decked
 with every variety of blossom3 ,mrs4   
,a4 is extremely fond of fancy colors4  
,and when ,i took her to ,bowker's the  
other day1 that sick ,miss ,ellenwood   
was examining his new ,french goods1 and
 called my attention to a splendid piece
 of muslin1 and asked if it was not of  
beautiful texture4 ',dear ,miss         
,ellen-wood1' interposed ,emma2 'you    
will not want a figured muslin for a    
coffin dress4' ,think of that1 ,dora4   

,well1 my dear madam1 replied ,dora2 the
 child heard some of your friends say   
that this vain sick girl1 who is        
spending all her slender income in      
dress1 would want money soon to pay for 
a shroud4  ,certainly1 ,dora1 that has  
frequently been said2 but the child     
should know better than give such a hint
 to the young lady herself6 ,several    
ladies were in the store1 and ,i felt   
extremely mortified and shocked4  ,such 
complaints were frequent2 and at last   
the good ,dora answered all1 by begging 
the mother to have patience both with   
herself and with the child4 ,this       
truthfulness1 said she1 is of excellent 
quality1 but it is now rough from the   
quarry4 ,by-and-by charity will make its
 rough places smooth2 for love not only 
refines and purifies1 but it polishes   
the hewn stone after the similitude of a
 palace4  ,mrs4 ,lindsay did not        
understand these words1 and derived but 
little comfort therefrom4 ,she could not
 see how ,emma's bluntness was to be    

refined1 save by putting her into       
fashion's crucible2 and this she more   
than once resolved to do1 at any risk4  
,with this resolution1 however1 there   
always came a fearfulness1 which seemed 
a warning voice from the tomb1 bidding  
her beware2 and to this voice of warning
 she took reluctant heed4  ,pursuing a  
quiet course of study under private     
tutors1 ,emma was still left morally and
 physically to the care of her pious    
friend4 ,dora planted in hope1 and now  
the precious shoot was caused to spring 
forth by ,him who giveth the increase4  
,this precious shoot of moral strength1 
ungainly1 and without form or comeliness
 to the world1 she watered1 tended1 and 
watched1 with earnest faith for the     
,husbandman1 whose pruning knife should 
convert it into a goodly tree4 ,emma    
sometimes came to her friend with       
puzzling questions2 among those most    
frequently asked were the following3--  
,how mamma could be 'not at home1' when 
she was in her chamber8  ,how she could 

be extremely glad to see people who1 she
 said1 were 'bores1 and not to be       
endured8'  ,why it was more impolite to 
tell people what was foolish in their   
appearance1 than to laugh about this    
appearance in their absence8  ,it was   
difficult to answer these questions1    
without casting a shade over those whom 
,dora wished the child to love and      
respect4 ,sometimes she told the little 
girl that it would often hurt people's  
feelings and make them very miserable1  
to know just what others thought of     
them4 ,and yet the child would reply3   
,you say that if we would listen to     
,god's little voice in our hearts1 it   
would tell us all that is wrong4 ,why   
does he want to hurt folks' feelings8   
,you had me read in the ,bible about the
 truth1 how1 if we come to love it1 it  
would make us free2 but mamma says it is
 often impolite to speak the truth4     
,dora felt1 as many under similar       
circumstances have felt1 the earnest    
question pressing upon her heart3 ,who  

is sufficient for these things8 and with
 greater trembling was it asked1 as     
,emma grew in stature and increased in  
knowledge2 for she saw that with the    
good seeds thorns had sprung up4 ,emma  
began to pride herself upon independent 
thought and action1 and to show symptoms
 of haughty disdain toward those who    
stooped to the deceit of fashionable    
etiquette4 ,dora was often pained to    
hear her speak of things done and said1 
not for truth's sake1 but because it    
plagued others4 ,it was evident that she
 was beginning to exult in the          
embarrassment which she often           
occasioned1 but saw not the wicked self 
hiding beneath her garb of truth4 ,dora 
tried hard to point out this inward foe1
 but1 with the blindness of a natural   
heart1 ,emma1 having eyes1 saw not2 and 
the good woman knew well1 that the child
 could not see1 unless ,he that openeth 
the eyes of the blind should say unto   
her1 ,receive thy sight4 ,she told her  
of that charity which hopeth1 believeth1

 and endureth all things2 which1 giving 
no place to falsehood1 still never      
behaveth itself unseemly4 ,she warned   
,emma of the heart's ,ishmaelite--that  
truth which1 incased in the armor of    
human pride1 ever turns its hand against
 its fellow3 but ,emma did not fear this
 strong man armed2 so she was led       
captive by him at his will4  ,thus she  
was growing up like a beautiful flower  
thickly set with thorns4 ,there were1   
however1 some among her mother's        
fashionable friends who professed       
themselves charmed with her wit and     
originality4  ,martha had passed the age
 at which her young sisters began to    
decline1 and gave evidence of           
established health4 ,she was now allowed
 to attend evening parties1 and was     
found very tolerably1 though not what   
the world calls highly accomplished4    
,there were those1 however1 who thought 
that ,martha's solid education1 good    
judgment1 good sense1 and good taste1   
were accomplishments enough4 ,mrs4      

,lindsay could not help feeling very    
well satisfied with her discreet1       
amiable daughter1 though she was not    
eligible to a place in the ball-room1   
having never learned to dance4  ,but it 
was not until people began to call ,emma
 a comical little beauty1 and beg her   
mother to fetch her to their select     
evening parties1 that ,mrs4 ,lindsay    
ceased to feel chagrined at the         
sacrifice made to affection4 ,emma was  
not long in learning by what pretty     
names she was called2 and with this     
knowledge came the strong desire to     
sustain a reputation for wit and beauty4
 ,dora saw the canker-worm at the root  
of that precious plant for whose        
perfection she had waited with long     
patience4  ,emma sometimes came home and
 repeated her triumphs and comicalities 
to this faithful friend1 but receiving  
no answering smile1 but1 on the         
contrary1 a solemn word of reproof or   
warning1 she would often burst into a   
flood of peevish tears1 saying that     

,dora was getting cross1 and did not    
love her as formerly4 ,in this the good 
woman saw signs less fearful than those 
of moral disease1 but no less true2 saw 
that this exposure and excitement were  
rapidly wearing away the frail          
foundations of health2 and all that she 
feared was frankly expressed to the     
mother3 but ,mrs4 ,lindsay having once  
more allowed the film of vanity to blind
 the maternal eye1 saw not the danger4  
,the question1 however1 came to a speedy
 issue2 for1 attending a party one      
evening where the rooms were newly      
papered1 and where1 notwithstanding she 
felt chilly1 her mother would not allow 
of her being wrapped in a shawl1 ,emma  
took a violent cold1 which was          
immediately followed by a cough1 and    
many other symptoms of rapid decline4   
,greatly alarmed1 ,mrs4 ,lindsay        
consulted her former physicians1 and was
 again flattered with the hope that     
change of air1 change of scene1 and     
other changes1 would speedily produce a 

change of health4  ,emma knew the       
history of her family1 and understood   
well why she was hurried from land to   
sea1 and from thence to other places    
remote from her home4 ,dora was not     
allowed to accompany her1 because the   
physician said that her long face would 
be an incalculable injury2 but that     
face1 always beaming with the soul's    
deep interest and affection1 was ever   
present to the sick girl4 ,through many 
a night-watch of suffering and feverish 
anxiety1 those loving1 earnest eyes     
seemed looking into her own2 and ,emma  
would say to her sister ,martha1 ,dear  
,dora6 how ,i long to see her6 she loves
 me1 and prays for me2 it seems to me   
that with ,dora near ,i should not be   
afraid to die4  ,thus ,emma talked2 and 
the sensible1 affectionate ,martha saw  
that change of air and change of scene  
could not benefit her young sister1     
while her mind was so fevered and       
tossed2 she therefore entreated her     
mother to return home1 and after a time 

succeeded in making her understand this 
to be the best course4  ,o my dear      
,dora1 said the poor weary child1 as she
 found herself once more in her own room
 at home1 with the good woman at her    
side1 ,i am so glad--so glad to see you4
 ,and now ,i want you to stay with me1  
and talk as you used to when ,i was a   
little child4 ,o1 it makes me miserable 
to think how my heart wandered away from
 you1 and from the ,saviour1 ,dora2 for 
,i used to feel when a little girl that 
he loved me4  ,and he loves you still1  
dearest1 replied the old lady1 her heart
 swelling with gratitude to ,god4 ,he   
loves you1 ,emma1 and will receive you  
freely1 dear1 without one word of       
reproach1 if you will only come back4   
,i think so1 said ,emma1 while the tears
 ran freely down her pale cheeks4 ,i did
 not spend those long dreadful nights1  
,dora1 without thinking of him2 and     
though ashamed of myself1 ,i ventured to
 ask him1 over and over again1 to pity  
my wretchedness1 and love me still4 ,one

 night--it was not long ago--he seemed  
to come to me1 and say the very same    
things which you have just said1--that  
he would not cast me off2 that he loved 
me1 even then4  ,what a moment of joy to
 the faithful ,christian1 who had sowed 
in hope1 but whose faith had been so    
severely tried4  ,the tranquillity of   
mind which followed ,emma's return home1
 operated favorably upon her health1 and
 in a few weeks she was able to mingle  
with the family as formerly4 ,her mother
 did not propose her going abroad for   
company2 but ,emma seemed to take       
pleasure in being one of their small    
parties at home4 ,very different1       
however1 was this pleasure from that    
which she had formerly sought and       
experienced4  ,what a change in ,emma   
,lindsay6 was an exclamation frequent   
among her mother's friends4 ,her        
pertness1 repartee1 and saucy witticisms
 are all gone4 ,what have they been     
doing for her8 ,this winning softness   
and grace of manner seems foreign to her

 nature4  ,i never thought1 said        
another1 that ,i should come to love    
,emma ,lindsay2 but ,i do1 and cannot   
help it--she is so lovely1 so polite1   
and yet so sincere4 ,a mystery1 indeed1 
to the worldly wise1 how politeness and 
sincerity could be made to embrace each 
other4  ,the solemn subjects of death   
and eternity were matters of frequent   
and free conversation between ,emma and 
her pious friend2 and now1 though there 
seemed some respite from the speedy     
execution of the sentence1 ,thou shalt  
die1 and not live1 neither thought of   
the matter in any other light than that 
of a little time given for work         
important to be done4 ,happy for ,emma  
that she took this view of the subject1 
since it saved her from that remissness 
too common among the followers of       
,christ4  ,the ,lord seems to have need 
of me1 ,emma would say to the good      
,dora2 while she would answer1 ,yes1    
dear1 but be ready for him at his       
coming2 be sure that you are able to    

say1 ',i have finished the work thou    
gavest me to do4'  ,notwithstanding     
these favorable indications1 as it      
regarded the health of her daughter1    
,mrs4 ,lindsay was sometimes roused from
 her security by symptoms less          
favorable1 and at last resolved to      
follow the advice of ,emma's physician1 
and take up a permanent residence in the
 country4  ,hence their removal to      
,appledale4     ,,chapter ,,iv4  ,,the  
,,little ,,time--,,how                  
,,improved--,,fitness ,,for ,,refined   
,,society--,,morning                    
,,reflections--,,ruth ,,and             
,,boaz--,,charity ,,and                 
,,courtesy--,,the ,,visit4   ,the little
 time allotted ,emma seemed important1  
not only as it regarded her duty to     
others1 but also in respect to herself4 
,she desired a complete fitness for the 
refined society which she was about to  
enter4 ,she wished1 above all things1 to
 become meet for an inheritance with the
 saints in light2 and for this fitness  

she strove1 using with diligence every  
means relative to this end which ,god   
had placed within her reach2 and1 as a  
valuable means1 she availed herself of  
the spiritual perception and ,christian 
fidelity of good ,dora1 who was always  
ready to aid her4  ,tell me1 she would  
say1 all that you see or fear that is   
wrong in me2 help me to examine my      
motives1 emotions1 and affections3 and  
,dora covenanted with ,emma to this     
effect1--a sacred covenant1 and one that
 should be oftener made among those who 
would be made perfect4  ,it was in      
accordance with this covenant that ,emma
 had spoken fully of her feelings and   
impressions respecting ,fanny ,brighton2
 and we have seen how faithfully this   
good woman kept her part of this        
covenant1 by pointing out to ,emma the  
judgment of charity and the judgment of 
self4  ,emma still sat by the open      
window1 upon that fine morning1 thinking
 and feeling1 as she long had done1 of  
the heart's great depth of              

deceitfulness1 which no man could know1 
and no human power could reach1 when she
 saw ,mr4 ,graffam coming along the     
road4  ,poor ,graffam1 though in his    
sober senses1 had been longer crossing  
the plain that morning than usual4 ,far 
down in the depths of his beclouded soul
 there was a love of the beautiful1 and 
that love on this morning had been      
stirred within him4 ,his eyes had been  
open to see the glittering dewdrops upon
 the tall wild flowers and green herbage
 of the plain1 to see the giant trees   
stretch their green arms toward the sky2
 and his ears had been open to hear a   
sweet concert upon their topmost        
branches4 ,poor buried soul6--how it    
struggled for a resurrection2 now       
leaping with joy at the thought of its  
own affinity for the pure and beautiful1
 and now sinking1 sinking1 sinking with 
the one blighting thought of human scorn
 richly merited4  ,night after night had
 poor ,graffam reeled from side to side 
of that grass-tufted road1 while the    

plain seemed to him an interminable lake
 of fire1 amid whose scalding waves     
there rolled and tossed poor wretches   
like himself2 and morning after morning 
he had returned by the same road1       
feeling as though a frost-breath had    
passed over the lake of fire1 leaving it
 rough and leaden like a lava-deluged   
plain4 ,but now1 whence came the        
wonderful beauty of the widespread      
landscape8 ,he knew in part1 and brushed
 his old jacket sleeve across his       
swollen eyes4 ,he feared that the vision
 was fated to pass away1 ,for my        
character is gone1 said he2 nobody      
respects me2 they call me 'old ,pete1'  
and ,i am doomed4 ,but a new feeling now
 came over him4 ,he was nearing         
,snag-,orchard4 ,the old chimneys were  
seen among the tree-tops1 and strange to
 himself1 7for years had passed since he
 had cared for his personal appearance17
 he found his right hand tucking up its 
brother's dirty wristband1 and adroitly 
turning the torn part of his old hat-rim

 to the side opposite ,appledale4       
,good-morning1 good-morning1 ,mr4       
,graffam1 was the cheerful greeting     
coming to him from a chamber window4    
,but lo6 he has forgotten the torn rim1 
and now it is flapping most gracefully1 
as the hat descends from the head1 and  
is waved toward the window4  ,stop1 if  
you please1 said ,emma2 and she ran down
 the stairway1 and along the            
garden-walk1 toward the gate4  ,why1 who
 is ,emma flying to see8 asked ,martha1 
as she saw her sister's white dress     
flitting past the window4  ,one of the  
visitors looked toward the road1 and1   
unable to speak for laughter1 pointed   
out poor ,graffam1 who1 standing with   
his crazy hat in his hand1 and his long 
shaggy hair falling in tangled masses   
over his neck and forehead1 was now     
examining his great red hand1 to see if 
it was clean enough to shake the        
delicate little hand cordially offered  
him4  ,how is your babe this morning8   
asked ,emma4  ,better1 thank you1       

replied ,graffam2 and growing           
warm-hearted in her sunlight1 he told   
her how the little thing had smiled1 and
 crowed at him2 or began to tell1 and   
then stopped short1 fearing that he     
should forfeit her respect4  ,it is a   
dear child1 said ,emma2 and perhaps1    
,mr4 ,graffam1 it may please ,god to    
restore him to health1 and he may grow  
up to bless the world4  ,graffam        
started4 ,the idea that a child of his  
should grow up to bless the world seemed
 too marvelous2 and yet1 thought he1 ,i 
was not made for a curse4  ,i hope that 
he may live1 said the poor man          
sincerely2 and wondered how that hope   
came1 for formerly the child's life had 
been a matter of utter indifference to  
him4  ,if it please ,god1 added ,emma4  
,it has pleased ,god1 said ,graffam1 to 
lay three of my children beneath the    
sod1 and perhaps it were better if they 
were all there1 for we are----  ,are    
what1 sir8  ,poor and despised1 miss4   
,god does not despise the poor1 said    

,emma4 ,when his ,son came to live among
 men1 the poor of this world were his   
chosen friends and companions4  ,perhaps
 so1 the poor man said1 and turned his  
head mournfully away3 if poverty were   
all----  ,he does not despise the sinner
 either1 said ,emma1 softly2 so far from
 that1 he delivered his only ,son unto  
death for their sake4  ,graffam lifted  
his eyes from the ground1 and looked    
seriously into her face4  ,there was a  
time1 miss1 said he1 when that was a    
precious thought to me4 ,then to know   
that ,god was my friend1 was enough1 and
 ,i was happy2 but that time is passed4 
,i parted with his friendship to gain   
that of the world1 and now ,i have lost1
 hopelessly lost all--all6  ,this was   
said in a tone of deep despair3 so deep 
and sad1 that it called tears of pity to
 ,emma's eyes1 as she earnestly         
replied1--  ,o do not say that his      
friendship is hopelessly lost1 ,mr4     
,graffam2 for you know1 sir1 that he    
does not hate what the world hates4 ,he 

hates nothing but sin1 and even from    
that his great mercy separates the      
sinner1 and makes him an object of love4
 ,jesus1 ,mr4 ,graffam1 is the sinner's 
friend4  ,yes1 miss1 replied the poor   
man2 though ,emma saw that the faith of 
this great truth did not enter his      
heart4 ,there was no room as yet for so 
pure a faith4 ,the soul's great idol1   
whatever it be1--the man of sin sitting 
in the place of ,god1--must be dethroned
 before the ,holy will enter in4 ,yet   
,emma's words stirred still more those  
powers of the soul which ,graffam had   
felt that morning struggling franticly  
with their chains4 ,there was a strange 
mixture of hope and despair in the      
expression of his countenance1 as he    
turned away1 bidding her a sad          
good-morning4  ,o1 thought ,emma1 as she
 looked after him1 is there none to     
help8 ,poor ,mr4 ,graffam might become a
 good and useful man3 his family might  
live out among people1 and be happy4 ,i 
pity them from my very heart2 and       

thinking over the matter1 ,emma walked  
out into the road1 wandering down the   
hill1 across the bridge1 beneath which  
the bright waters glided very soberly   
that morning4 ,here she paused awhile1  
looking over the wooden railing at the  
reflection of her own thin figure and   
pale face4 ,o ,emma1 she said1 what thou
 doest1 do quickly2 for there is neither
 work1 knowledge1 nor device in the     
grave1 to which thou art hastening4     
,slowly1 and somewhat wearily1 she      
ascended the opposite bank1 and then    
away in his field1 working busily1 she  
saw friend ,sliver4 ,she knew him by the
 broad-brimmed hat1 which now and then  
bobbed up above the wall as the old man 
picked up the stones1 and then resumed  
his hoe4  ,intent upon his work1 he hoed
 long with his eyes upon the ground3 but
 at last he paused1 and holding the hoe 
in one hand1 drew a checkered           
handkerchief from his pocket1 and wiped 
the perspiration from his face2 in doing
 this1 he glanced toward the road1 and  

saw ,emma leaning over the wall1        
apparently inspecting his work4         
,good-morning1 ,mr4 ,sliver1 said ,emma4
  ,illustration3 ,,emma ,,and ,,the     
,,quaker4  ,ah1 how does thee do8       
replied the good man1 with evident      
pleasure4 ,i was not looking for thee in
 the potato field4  ,i suppose not1     
replied ,emma1 smiling4 ,i am like      
,ruth1 the ,moabitess1 who went to glean
 in the fields of ,boaz3 only she wanted
 grain1 and ,i want counsel4  ,friend   
,sliver laid down his hoe1 and coming up
 to the wall1 asked1 ,what is it1 child8
  ,you know ,mr4 ,graffam1 sir8  ,thee  
means ,peter1 who lives upon the plains8
  ,yes1 sir4  ,o yes1 ,i have known him 
some years2 given to drink1 ,emma4  ,i  
know it1 replied ,emma2 but need he be  
lost1 sir8 ,he has a wife and four      
pretty children2 can't he be saved8  ,i 
see but one way1 replied the old        
gentleman2 and that is to get him       
employment away from the mills4 ,motley 
keeps spirit for his hands4 ,i have     

tried to help ,peter by employing him   
myself1 but he is very sullen when not  
in drink4  ,i will tell you the reason  
of that1 said ,emma2 the poor man has   
naturally great self-esteem1 and people 
irritate and crush him by showing him no
 respect4  ,people can't show what they 
have not1 replied friend ,sliver1 with a
 slight twinkle in his bright gray eye4 
,can thee respect a drunkard1 ,emma8  ,i
 can respect a soul1 sir1 replied ,emma1
 warmly1--a soul made in the image of   
,god1 though it were sunk in the very   
depths of pollution and wretchedness2   
and so can the ',great and ,holy ,one1' 
,mr4 ,sliver1 or he never would have    
sent his ,son to redeem the world4  ,the
 sly twinkle vanished from the good     
,quaker's eye1 and he looked seriously1 
earnestly1 into the face of that dear   
girl4 ,emma1 said he1 what would thee do
 for ,peter and his family8 ,can ,i aid 
thee in any way8  ,you have done so     
already1 said she1 by speaking of the   
temptations to which he is exposed4 ,i  

think that ,i can persuade mother to    
employ him2 and ,mr4 ,sliver1 as you are
 acquainted with the people here1 you   
may do ,mr4 ,graffam a good service1 by 
persuading your neighbors to feel and to
 manifest some interest in himself and  
his family2 ask them not to allow their 
children to call him ',old ,pete1' ',old
 toper1' c41 and twit him of riding a   
high horse4  ,i will1 replied friend    
,sliver1 and ,i will do anything else in
 my power to help thee4  ,thank you1    
said ,emma1 smiling1 and sliding from   
the fence2 ,i am greatly obliged to you2
 good-by1 ,mr4 ,sliver4  ,farewell6     
replied the old man1 as he once more    
watched her descending the hill1 and    
thought of what ,sarah had said about   
her ripening for glory4  ,it was on the 
afternoon of that day that ,dora and    
,emma set out for a visit to the plains4
 ,i think1 said the former1 that we had 
better ride around by ',snow-,hill1' and
 inquire at ,mr4 ,cotting's respecting  
this family4 ,mr4 ,cotting was the      

minister1 and his wife was considered a 
very active woman1 and such in truth she
 was4 ,sewing circles1 ,sunday-school   
exhibitions1 donation parties1 c41 had  
been quite unknown to that community    
until ,mrs4 ,cotting came4 ,it was said1
 too1 that she had visited all the poor 
families around1 and fitted out their   
children for ,sabbath school4  ,if1 said
 ,dora1 we succeed in getting this poor 
family of the plains to mingle with     
their fellows1 ,mrs4 ,cotting's help    
will be needed2 she is directress of the
 sewing circle1 and from that can obtain
 clothing for the children4  ,dear      
,dora1 replied ,emma1 don't propose any 
such thing1 either to ,mr4 ,graffam or  
his wife1 now4 ,it won't do--not yet4   
,we will call and see ,mrs4 ,cotting1 if
 you please4 ,she may know this family1 
and may be able to tell us how to       
manage4 ,here is the road which goes    
around by ,snow-,hill3 but stop a       
moment2 there is ,willie ,graffam and   
his little sister1 just coming from the 

plain4  ,how do you do1 ,willie8        
continued ,emma1 as the children1 each  
carrying a basket of berries1 drew      
nearer4  ,very well1 thank you1 said    
,willie1 taking off his hat2 and the    
little girl courtesied1 without lifting 
her eyes from the ground4  ,we are going
 over to see your mother1 said ,emma4   
,mother will be very glad to see you1   
replied the little boy2 at the same time
 looking inquiringly at the horse's head
 which was turned toward ,snow-,hill4   
,dora smiled at the emphasis bestowed   
upon you1 and asked ,willie if his      
mother would not be glad to see her4  ,i
 guess so1 was the reply2 but----  ,but 
what1 ,willie8 asked ,emma4  ,the little
 fellow hung his head1 and answered in a
 lower tone1 ,mother don't want to see  
the minister's wife1 for she has been at
 our house once4  ,i am afraid1 said    
,dora1 as they passed on1 that this     
family is one whom it will be difficult 
to benefit4  ,you will excuse me for    
keeping you in waiting so long1 said    

,mrs4 ,cotting1 as she entered the room 
where ,dora and ,emma had been seated   
for nearly an hour2 ,i understood the   
maid that it was ,mrs4 ,lindsay herself1
 and ,i was in dishabille4 ,my duties   
are so numerous and so pressing1        
continued ,mrs4 ,cotting4 ,one might    
think that the cares of a family were   
sufficient for a wife and mother2 but   
added to this1 to have a whole parish   
upon one's hands4 ,here she paused and  
sighed4  ,your situation1 replied ,dora1
 is indeed one of earnest duty and      
responsibility2 but the abundant grace  
provided for our utmost need is found1  
,i trust1 sufficient for you4  ,mrs4    
,cotting bowed1 and ,dora continued3 ,we
 will not take your time1 madam1 which  
must be fully occupied4 ,we called to   
inquire respecting a family called      
,graffam1 living upon the plain4  ,i    
know them1 said ,mrs4 ,cotting1 as      
indeed ,i do every other poor family in 
town4 ,these ,graffams are very strange 
people4 ,i called there with ,mrs4      

,jefferson ,motley1 the wealthiest lady 
at the mills4 ,graffam had a child at   
that time lying at the point of death4  
,he was at home1 and1 what is a rare    
thing1 was sober2 but neither he nor his
 wife seemed at all grateful for this   
attention from myself and ,mrs4 ,motley4
 ,we were at that time hunting up       
children for the ,sabbath school2 and in
 our charitable work were not unwilling 
to visit the most degraded4 ,we told    
,graffam and his wife so2 and told them1
 moreover1 that we were desirous to     
rescue their children from ignorance and
 infamy4 ,i had a bundle of clothes for 
the children1 which ,i offered to ,mrs4 
,graffam1 on condition that she would   
keep them clean2 never allowing them to 
be worn in their own dirty hut1 but     
saved expressly for the ,sabbath school4
 ,then ,i talked to her faithfully of   
her own evil ways1 7for ,i had heard    
that she picked berries upon the        
,sabbath27 and what do you suppose the  
poor wretch did8 ,why she turned from   

the dying bed of her child1 and looked  
,mrs4 ,motley and myself in the face1 as
 though we were common acquaintances4   
',madam1' said she1 'your religion is   
not to my taste4 ,i prefer our present  
ignorance1 and even infamy1 to what you 
have offered this morning4 ,as for      
picking berries upon the ,sabbath1 ,i   
must refer that to ,him of whom1 ,i must
 confess1 ,i know too little2 but my    
parents taught me that ,god is just1 and
 ,i believe that he will justly judge   
between the rich who pay their laborers 
in that which is neither money nor      
bread1 and the mother who1 for lack of  
bread1 must break the ,sabbath4' ,think 
what an impudent thrust at ,mrs4        
,motley6--her husband allows ,graffam to
 take up the most of his wages in rum1  
,i suppose4 ,it was evident that this   
,mrs4 ,graffam was no subject for       
charity--she was too ungrateful and too 
insolent2 so we came away1 bringing the 
things with us4 ,the child died1 and    
they would not have ,mr4 ,cotting to    

attend the funeral4 ,graffam went for   
old ,mr4 ,sliver1 who sat in silence    
with the family for about half an hour1 
and then was 'moved upon' to pray4 ,the 
sexton said that ,graffam and his wife  
sobbed aloud2 but ,i have never ventured
 there again4  ,dora and ,emma now rose 
to depart1 and in going away met ,mr4   
,cotting at the door4 ,emma felt herself
 indebted to her minister1 and1 with the
 cordiality of true ,christian          
friendship1 returned his greeting4  ,we 
are going to visit the family upon the  
plain1 said she1 as ,mr4 ,cotting       
unfastened their horse1 and was about to
 turn him the other way4  ,are you8     
inquired he1 that is what ,i have not   
done myself1 as yet2 ,mrs4 ,cotting     
received so ungracious a reception1 that
 it rather discouraged me2 if you are   
upon a visit of charity ,i hope that you
 will be better received4  ,charity     
ought to be kindly received everywhere1 
replied ,emma1 since she is             
long-suffering and kind herself1 not    

easily provoked1 and certainly not      
provoking1 because she never behaves    
herself unseemly4  ,no1 replied the     
minister1 thoughtfully2 it is strange   
that true charity should be distasteful 
to any one4 ,then offering his hand1 as 
he bade them good-by1 he said to ,emma1 
,i hope1 my dear1 that this charity     
abounds in you4  ,o no1 she replied1 it 
does not abound--although1 ,i trust1 it 
has a home in my poor heart4  ,emma     
found the door of poor ,graffam's hut   
open1 and the mother sitting beside the 
cradle where lay the sick babe asleep4  
,walk in1 said ,mrs4 ,graffam1 smiling  
as she advanced toward the door4  ,dora 
was surprised at the ease of her manner1
 and the pleasant expression of her     
countenance1 as she handed them chairs1 
and seemed really glad to see them4     
,the babe is better1 said she1 as ,emma 
advanced toward the cradle2 and at that 
moment the little one awoke4  ,the good 
motherly ,dora took the wee bit into her
 arms1 and talked with ,mrs4 ,graffam   

about the best course to be pursued with
 a feeble child like that1 while ,emma  
unpacked the stores which they brought1 
among which were many things not        
intended for baby1 but which she        
delicately classed with the rest1       
calling the whole medicine4  ,mrs4      
,graffam was at first somewhat reserved2
 but as ,dora talked to her as a friend 
and sister1 the frost of her spirit     
melted away1 and she spoke of her mother
 now dead1 of brothers and sisters1 some
 dead and some far away3 and as she grew
 thus communicative1 and the tears of   
fond recollection trembled in her eyes1 
,dora talked of ,him1 the dear unfailing
 friend1 who sticketh closer than a     
brother2 who1 in all the afflictions of 
his people1 is afflicted1 and the angel 
of whose presence is with them to       
comfort and to bless4  ,then poor ,mrs4 
,graffam wept much1 saying that she     
needed just such a friend4 ,and when    
they went away1 she wrapped the babe in 
a shawl1 and1 taking it in her arms1    

went with them to the road where they   
had left their horse4  ,you will come   
and see me again1 won't you8 she asked4 
,and ,emma replied1 ,yes1 ,mrs4         
,graffam2 ,i will come as long as ,i am 
able1 and when ,i am not1 you must come 
and see me4  ,i will1 was the warm      
reply2 ,i would walk miles to see you1  
if you were sick4     ,,chapter ,v4     
,,the ,,old ,,peddler--,,bitter         
,,words--,,the ,,meek ,,reply--,,the    
,,effect--,,acting ,a ,,part--,,softer  
,,feelings--,,the ,,death-,,scene--,,the
 ,,day ,,of ,,small ,,things--,,simple  
,,christian ,,courtesy4   ,i know1 said 
,fanny ,brighton1 that there is not a   
word of truth in what you say4 ,peddlers
 are always liars4 ,this ring is nothing
 but brass1 and would turn black with a 
week's wearing4  ,i bought it for gold1 
meekly replied the old man1 as he placed
 his heavy box upon the ground1 and     
wiped the large drops of sweat from his 
wrinkled face4  ,what else have you8    
inquired ,alice1 as she turned over a   

box of thimbles1 and pulled out a large 
handkerchief4 ,what a splendid thing6   
said ,alice2 but at the same time she   
winked at ,fanny1 and laughed4          
,illustration3 ,,the ,,girls ,,and ,,the
 ,,peddler4  ,half cotton1 said ,fanny2 
and now pray tell me when you take time 
to split your skeins of silk4  ,i never 
do such a thing6 said the old man1 with 
some spirit4  ,perhaps not1 was the     
reply2 ,i suppose your profits are      
enough to hire it done2 but here is a   
shawl1--what is the price of it8  ,five 
dollars1 miss2 and a good bargain at    
that4 ,five dollars6 ,o what a cheat6   
and ,fanny laid the shawl1 all unfolded1
 upon the grass1 where scissors1        
needles1 buttons1 tape1 pins1 c41 lay   
strewed in wild confusion4 ,once more   
the poor man wiped his forehead1 and    
kept his patience4 ,it is bad policy for
 the poor to lose their patience4       
,there comes ,mary ,palmer1 and the     
missionary of ,appledale1 said ,fanny4  
,mr4 ,cotting will have to give up his  

office1 or take ,miss ,lindsay as       
colleague4  ,fanny knew that ,emma was  
near enough to hear these remarks1 but  
she did not know for what intent the    
feeble girl had taxed her strength in   
walking so far to see her4  ,the old    
peddler was now sadly putting his things
 back into his box2 and ,fanny1 looking 
at him a moment1 felt the injustice of  
causing him so much trouble for nothing3
 so she said to him1 ,wait a moment--,i 
will take some of your knickknacks1     
though they are not worth buying2 and   
she put into his hand a bill to pay for 
some articles which she hastily         
selected4  ,the old man thanked her1 and
 his hand trembled as he gave her the   
change4 ,then he took up his heavy box1 
and ,emma handed him the straps which   
fastened it upon his shoulders4  ,is it 
very heavy8 she asked4  ,yes1 was the   
reply1 it is2 but ,i am used to heavy   
burdens4  ,well1 the burden and heat of 
your life's day is almost over1 said    
,emma1 as1 assisted by ,mary1 she drew  

the strap firmly into the buckle4 ,then1
 sir1 if you are a ,christian1 you will 
rest4  ,i know it1 said the old man2 ,i 
know it1 child3 and he looked at ,emma1 
as though she had given him something   
better than silver or gold4  ,call at   
the large house1 among the apple-trees1 
said ,emma1 and tell the lady that her  
daughter sent you4  ,all this time      
,fanny stood as if counting her money1  
while the old peddler went along4  ,he  
has cheated himself in making change1   
said she2 ,i owe him a quarter more4    
,never mind1 said ,alice2 you paid      
enough for the things1 and that is clear
 gain4  ,fanny paid no attention to     
,alice1 but ran after the old man1 and  
gave him all his due4  ,emma saw this2  
and the charity in her heart which      
rejoiceth not in iniquity1 but in the   
truth1 exulted as one that findeth great
 spoil4 ,she forgot the bitter remark   
which ,fanny had made respecting        
herself2 forgot all1 except the one     
joyful thing that ,fanny was not wholly 

selfish4  ,we walked over to see you for
 a little while1 said ,mary1 as ,fanny  
came back2 and ,emma was far from       
feeling it a rudeness1 though ,fanny did
 not say1 ,i am glad to see you4 ,she1  
however1 invited them into the house    
where her grandfather and grandmother   
lived--for ,fanny was an orphan4  ,emma 
was very tired1 and ,fanny brought a    
pillow1 which she placed upon the       
old-fashioned lounge1 and asked her if  
she would like to lie down4 ,she saw    
that ,emma was pale1 and this little act
 of kindness was prompted by a momentary
 feeling of pity3 yet ,fanny was ashamed
 of this kindness1 and afraid that ,mary
 and ,alice would think her anxious to  
show ,miss ,lindsay particular          
attention2 so putting on her old        
care-for-nobody airs1 she said1 ,don't  
you undertake to faint1 ,mary ,palmer4  
,we country girls are neither genteel   
nor sentimental enough for that4  ,and  
not feeble enough1 ,i hope1 replied     
,emma4 ,you have much to be thankful    

for1 and so have ,i2 for if it please   
,god to deprive us of health1 he will   
not leave us comfortless--not if we     
trust in him4  ,fanny was not naturally 
a hardhearted girl4 ,her aged           
grandparents had done much toward making
 her what she was4 ,left to them when   
she was but two years of age1 ,fanny    
found herself left also to the full sway
 of every selfish passion and desire4   
,the old people believed from their     
hearts that such another child never    
lived--so bright1 so witty1 so smart1   
and fearless4 ,they talked and laughed  
over her sayings in her presence1 and1  
in the blindness of their fond          
affection1 saw not that the child was   
impudent1 even to themselves2 yet there 
was a fountain of purer water in that   
young heart1 though self-love was       
rapidly drying it up4 ,emma1 however1   
had that day discovered a bright drop   
from that better fountain1 and she      
believed that the wasted streams of     
affection might be unsealed1 even in    

,fanny's heart2 and the rude girl       
herself wondered at the feelings which  
came over her1 as ,emma replied so      
meekly to her unkind remark4 ,i did not 
know that you were out of health1 said  
,fanny2 and both ,mary and ,alice were  
surprised at the tone of her voice and  
the expression of her countenance4 ,she 
arose too1 propped the pillow under     
,emma's head1 and begged to know if she 
could do anything for her4  ,nothing1   
said ,emma2 only love me3 if you can do 
that1 ,fanny1 ,i shall feel better4     
,fanny tried to laugh1 though she felt  
more like crying4 ,i am not much like   
other people1 said she2 and those who   
want to have anything to do with me1    
must take me as ,i am4  ,o yes1 replied 
,emma2 if the ,saviour does not refuse  
to take us just as we are1 ,i am sure we
 ought to receive others in the same    
way1 and love them too1 even as he has  
loved us4  ,very pleasantly did that    
summer afternoon pass away4 ,emma1 after
 she had rested awhile1 thought of going

 home2 but ,fanny entreated her to stay4
 ,she wanted to show her the bee-house1 
her grandfather's new beehive1 the      
flower-garden1 and many other things4   
,mary dearly loved to be near ,emma2 but
 this good little girl possessed the    
very best kind of courtesy1 because it  
was the fruit of a pure loving          
heart--that kind of heart always        
forgetting its own wishes1 in gratifying
 the wishes of another4 ,mary was always
 happy1 but it was a sweet reflex       
happiness4 ,she loved ,emma1 and dearly 
loved to hear her talk2 but she did not 
claim the right of keeping close to her 
side4 ,she sometimes lingered far       
behind1 as ,fanny and ,emma walked      
arm-in-arm2 but there was neither envy  
nor jealousy in this4 ,she knew that    
,fanny was ashamed of being kind and    
affectionate1 and she thought it best   
that they should be left to themselves2 
so she kept with ,alice1 and tried to do
 her good4  ,that night1 as the sun went
 down1 ,fanny might have been seen      

standing at the door1 where she had bid 
,mary and ,emma good-night4 ,alice was  
preparing to go1 but ,fanny seemed quite
 forgetful of her4 ,she was still       
looking far down the road1 where ,mary  
and ,emma1 with an arm around each      
other's waist1 were walking slowly      
along4 ,alice prided herself on being   
more genteel in her manners than was    
,fanny ,brighton2 but she had not ,mary 
,palmer's self-forgetting courtesy4 ,all
 the afternoon she had felt vexed1      
because she imagined that but little    
notice had been taken of herself2 and   
now1 as ,fanny stood so absent-minded1  
picking a rose to pieces1 as her eyes   
wandered far away1 ,alice hurriedly put 
on her bonnet1 and said1 in a tone of   
pique1 ,good-night1 ,miss ,brighton2 ,i 
suppose you would like now to cut       
acquaintance with me4  ,nonsense1 said  
,fanny4 ,wait a moment1 ,i am going a   
little way with you2 and as they walked 
along1 ,fanny tried to be herself again4
  ,there comes ,graffam1 said she3 now  

,i hope that he is drunk2 if so1 we will
 make him tell about the times when he  
was major4  ,but in this ,fanny was     
disappointed4 ,soberly1 but sadly1 the  
poor man of the plain came along1 and   
shrunk from the gaze of those merry     
girls4  ,o1 said ,fanny1 ,uncle ,pete is
 not tipsy2 so we shall not hear from   
the major to-night4  ,poor ,graffam     
passed them quickly1 for he heard this  
remark2 and a deeper shade of gloom came
 over him4 ,what is the use of this     
dreadful struggle8 thought he4 ,what    
suffering this self-denial has cost me6 
and yet what is gained8 ,nothing1 but to
 know that ,i am ridiculed and despised4
  ,it is the first time1 said ,fanny to 
herself1 as she parted with ,alice that 
night--the first time that ,i have ever 
acted a part3 but ,i would not have her 
suspect my feelings2 and why do ,i feel 
so8  ,thus thought ,fanny1 as she sat   
down upon a rock by the roadside1 and   
could not keep back the tears which came
 from a heart never so sad before4 ,and 

why so sad8 ,fanny had been1 for a few  
hours1 in close converse with one who   
every day was becoming more and more    
meet for an inheritance with the saints 
in light4 ,she had ridiculed and set at 
defiance the most common rules of       
politeness2 but what was she to do with 
the self-forgetting1 affectionate       
courtesy which she had seen1 not forced 
nor constrained1 but beaming forth so   
sweetly1 so naturally1 from those young 
disciples of ,christ8 ,fanny felt that1 
however deceitful the world's polite    
intercourse might be1 this was          
holy3--and how can sin approach purity  
without fear and trembling8 ,she felt   
this mysterious fear4 ,the reckless     
girl1 whose highest boast had always    
been that she feared nothing1 now       
trembled1 as in imagination she changed 
places with ,emma1 and stood where she  
saw her standing1--upon the brink of the
 tomb4  ,it was on this evening that    
,emma was summoned to her mother's room4
 ,she found her mother sitting alone    

with ,martha4 ,there was no light there 
save moonlight1 and ,emma was glad1 for 
she knew that her own countenance was   
deathly2 and she had known that for     
weeks her mother had watched her        
narrowly4  ,emma1 my dear1 said ,mrs4   
,lindsay1 you understand the reason of  
my coming to this place--that it was    
solely on your account4  ,yes1 mamma1   
said ,emma4  ,i have invited some of the
 gayest of our young friends1 continued 
,mrs4 ,lindsay1 to keep us company2 and 
all this because ,i wanted you to make  
the most of being in the country4 ,i    
have them here1 my love1 to talk1 to    
ride1 to run1 and walk with you4 ,this  
was the advice of your physician4 ,he   
said that you would soon become healthy 
and happy1 provided his directions were 
faithfully followed3 but they are not2  
and how can we expect these favorable   
results8 ,you neither ride nor walk with
 suitable company2 not that ,i care much
 about your present associations4 ,if   
they are conducive to health1 that is   

sufficient3 but ,i have reason to think1
 dear1 that you spend a great part of   
your time alone--that you go into the   
woods1 not with your gay young friends  
7as the doctor requires7 to run and have
 a good frolic1 but to sit down and     
read4 ,is it not so8  ,yes1 mamma1 said 
,emma1 it is so4 ,i cannot run now1 and 
,i get very tired in walking only a     
short distance2 but it rests me1 dear   
mother1 to read the ,bible4  ,but how   
can ,i have you go away alone to read   
your ,bible1 and think sadly of--being  
so weak8 asked her mother4  ,not sadly1 
replied ,emma2 ,i do not think sadly1   
mother1 for all the sadness is gone2 and
 if ,i have not become healthy1 ,i      
certainly have become happy1 very happy1
 since we came to ,appledale4 ,it is    
true that ,i see a great deal to be done
 now1 and wish sometimes that those who 
have the prospect of years before them  
would undertake this work4  ,i am glad  
that you mentioned this1 said ,mrs4     
,lindsay2 you have imbibed some of      

,dora's strange notions1 my dear1 about 
living for others4 ,you may be assured1 
,emma1 that ,i have not sacrificed so   
much for any object save that of your   
health4 ,i did not leave the society of 
the refined and intelligent for the sake
 of benefiting the rude and ignorant2   
and ,i would have you remember what was 
my object4 ,you have nothing to do with 
this community only with a view to your 
health4 ,if such society amuses you1    
mingle with it freely1 but waste no     
thoughts upon the people here4 ,they    
have always taken care of themselves1   
and can do this still without any help  
from little ,emma ,lindsay4  ,this the  
mother said playfully1 as she kissed her
 cheek1 and added3 ,i did not give you a
 fashionable education1 my dear2 but it 
was not because ,i intended you for a   
missionary4  ,my heavenly ,father may   
have intended this1 replied ,emma2 and  
you would not oppose ,him1 mother1 for  
he has purchased me with a great price4 
,we may be unwilling to make the        

smallest sacrifice for our              
fellow-creatures1 yet ,god gave his only
 ,son a sacrifice for us4  ,how that    
child talks1 said ,mrs4 ,lindsay1       
bursting into tears as ,emma left the   
room4  ,and yet1 replied ,martha1 if we 
cannot save her1 mother1 you would      
rather that she should be as she is4    
,the mother made no reply1 for she knew 
not what to say4  ,emma's first summer  
and winter at ,appledale had passed     
away4 ,it was a beautiful morning in    
,may2 ,martha ,lindsay was sitting      
beside a low couch where her young      
sister was sleeping so sweetly1 so      
gently1 that she had more than once     
placed her cheek close to those parted  
lips fearing that the breath was gone4  
,dora was in her little room adjoining  
,emma's1 and with hands uplifted in     
prayer1 was asking this one thing of the
 ,lord1 that as in life so in death1    
,emma might glorify him4 ,mrs4 ,lindsay 
was pacing the floor in her own chamber1
 now weeping as if her heart would      

break1 and now striving in this hour of 
deep distress1 to do as ,emma had long  
entreated her to do1 namely1 to come    
weary and heavy laden to ,him who in no 
wise will cast us out4 ,mr4 ,graffam was
 at work in the garden2 but his eye1 now
 clear and intelligent1 often rested on 
the chamber windows where the curtains  
were folded so close and solemnly4      
,susan ,sliver had watched with ,emma   
many a night1 and now she had retired   
for a few moments while ,emma slept4    
,susan no longer sighed for ,olivet and 
,kedron1 for in a ,christian's earnest  
daily work she had found places equally 
sacred4  ,i have come to hear thy dying 
testimony1 ,emma1 said friend ,sliver1  
as drawing his broad-brimmed hat more   
closely over his eyes1 the old man took 
his seat beside the bed4  ,emma smiled  
feebly4 ,are any more of my friends     
here8 she asked4  ,fanny ,brighton is in
 the keeping-room1 said ,martha4  ,call 
her1 whispered ,emma2 and in a few      
moments ,fanny was kneeling beside the  

bed sobbing violently1 while ,emma      
pressed her hand1 but could not speak4  
,but there was a bright triumphant smile
 upon her face as ,mary ,palmer came in2
 and ,mary smiled too through her tears4
 ,she had spent many a day with ,emma   
since that first summer at ,appledale2  
and now1 though a little girl1 and a    
young ,christian1 she felt somewhat as  
did ,elisha when he awaited the horsemen
 and chariot which were coming for      
,elijah4  ,emma looked around the room  
and stretched her hand toward her       
mother1 who had just entered with ,dora4
 ,mrs4 ,lindsay took that cold hand into
 her own1 and then ,emma repeated ,i    
,cor4 xiii1 #ac1 ,and now abideth faith1
 hope1 charity1 these three2 but the    
greatest of these is charity4  ,emma's  
breath grew shorter1 but she was able to
 add a verse which she had often read in
 ,dora's hymn book3--  ,this is the     
grace must live and sing   ,when faith  
and hope shall cease1 ,and sound from   
every joyful string   ,through all the  

realms of bliss4  ,these were the last  
audible words uttered by ,emma4 ,when   
another morning came it found her cold  
and silent1 dressed for the grave4 ,the 
spring blossoms breathed their sweet    
fragrance into her open window1 but     
,emma was gone--gone to the land of     
unfading bloom2 yet her life1 short and 
beautiful as the spring1 had left in    
passing a more enduring fragrance than  
that of early blossom and flower4       
,little by little does the husbandman   
cast the precious seed into the earth1  
and drop by drop comes the genial shower
 upon the green herb1 yet who does not  
despise the day of small things8 ,young1
 feeble ,christian1 the world will never
 do thee justice1 for in the great war  
of mighty deeds thy meek1 noiseless     
charity is unheard and forgotten2 but   
fear not1 ,god keeps his own jewels4 ,do
 what thou canst1 and thus provide for  
thyself a treasure in the heavens that  
faileth not4  ,there are some things    
spoken of in the town where ,emma died1 

things not wholly forgotten1 but far    
back in the distance of years4 ,it is   
said that ,mr4 ,graffam1 who is now a   
,church-member and a town officer1 was  
once a complete sot1 living in a log-hut
 upon the plain4 ,so much for the       
temperance reform4 ,it is said1 too1    
that the pious1 charitable old lady1    
,mrs4 ,lindsay1 and her good daughter   
,martha1 now living at ,appledale1 were 
once very thoughtless1 fashionable      
people2 that the gentle1 amiable ,mrs4  
,boyd was1 when a girl and living with  
her grandparents1 one of the rudest and 
most reckless creatures living2 that    
,susan and ,margaret ,sliver1 now       
earnest1 efficient co-operaters in every
 good cause1 were once vain1 frivolous1 
and almost hopelessly sentimental4 ,many
 such things are said2 but there are but
 few who trace the changes that have    
taken place in those characters to their
 proper cause4 ,we think1 however1 that 
if these persons could express what     
their secret hearts feel1 they would    

ascribe the changes they have           
experienced to the grace of ,god first  
influencing them through the medium of  
simple ,christian courtesy4