A Garland for Girls Read online

  PANSIES

  They are never alone that are accompanied with noble thoughts.--SIRPHILIP SIDNEY.

  "I'VE finished my book, and now what CAN I do till this tiresomerain is over?" exclaimed Carrie, as she lay back on the couch with ayawn of weariness.

  "Take another and a better book; the house is full of them, and thisis a rare chance for a feast on the best," answered Alice, lookingover the pile of volumes in her lap, as she sat on the floor beforeone of the tall book-cases that lined the room.

  "Not being a book-worm like you, I can't read forever, and youneedn't sniff at 'Wanda,' for it's perfectly thrilling!" criedCarrie, regretfully turning the crumpled leaves of the SeasideLibrary copy of that interminable and impossible tale.

  "We should read to improve our minds, and that rubbish is only awaste of time," began Alice, in a warning tone, as she looked upfrom "Romola," over which she had been poring with the delight onefeels in meeting an old friend.

  "I don't WISH to improve my mind, thank you: I read for amusement invacation time, and don't want to see any moral works till nextautumn. I get enough of them in school. This isn't 'rubbish'! It'sfull of fine descriptions of scenery--"

  "Which you skip by the page, I've seen you do it," said Eva, thethird young girl in the library, as she shut up the stout book onher knee and began to knit as if this sudden outburst of chatdisturbed her enjoyment of "The Dove in the Eagle's Nest."

  "I do at first, being carried away by my interest in the people, butI almost always go back and read them afterward," protested Carrie."You know YOU like to hear about nice clothes, Eva, and Wanda's weresimply gorgeous; white velvet and a rope of pearls is one costume;gray velvet and a silver girdle another; and Idalia was all a'shower of perfumed laces,' and scarlet and gold satin mask dresses,or primrose silk with violets, so lovely! I do revel in 'em!"

  Both girls laughed as Carrie reeled off this list of elegances, withthe relish of a French modiste.

  "Well, I'm poor and can't have as many pretty things as I want, soit IS delightful to read about women who wear white quilted satindressing-gowns and olive velvet trains with Mechlin lace sweepers tothem. Diamonds as large as nuts, and rivers of opals and sapphires,and rubies and pearls, are great fun to read of, if you never evenget a look at real ones. I don't believe the love part does me a bitof harm, for we never see such languid swells in America, nor suchlovely, naughty ladies; and Ouida scolds them all, so of course shedoesn't approve of them, and that's moral, I'm sure."

  But Alice shook her head again, as Carrie paused out of breath, andsaid in her serious way: "That's the harm of it all. False andfoolish things are made interesting, and we read for that, not forany lesson there may be hidden under the velvet and jewels and finewords of your splendid men and women. Now, THIS book is a wonderfulpicture of Florence in old times, and the famous people who reallylived are painted in it, and it has a true and clean moral that wecan all see, and one feels wiser and better for reading it. I dowish you'd leave those trashy things and try something really good."

  "I hate George Eliot,--so awfully wise and preachy and dismal! Ireally couldn't wade through 'Daniel Deronda,' though 'The Mill onthe Floss' wasn't bad," answered Carrie, with another yawn, as sherecalled the Jew Mordecai's long speeches, and Daniel's meditations.

  "I know you'd like this," said Eva, patting her book with an air ofcalm content; for she was a modest, common-sense little body, fullof innocent fancies and the mildest sort of romance. "I love dearMiss Yonge, with her nice, large families, and their trials, andtheir pious ways, and pleasant homes full of brothers and sisters,and good fathers and mothers. I'm never tired of them, and have read'Daisy Chain' nine times at least."

  "I used to like them, and still think them good for young girls,with our own 'Queechy' and 'Wide, Wide World,' and books of thatkind. Now I'm eighteen I prefer stronger novels, and books by greatmen and women, because these are always talked about by cultivatedpeople, and when I go into society next winter I wish to be able tolisten intelligently, and know what to admire."

  "That's all very well for you, Alice; you were always poking overbooks, and I dare say you will write them some day, or be ablue-stocking. But I've got another year to study and fuss over myeducation, and I'm going to enjoy myself all I can, and leave thewise books till I come out."

  "But, Carrie, there won't be any time to read them; you'll be sobusy with parties, and beaux, and travelling, and such things. IWOULD take Alice's advice and read up a little now; it's so nice toknow useful things, and be able to find help and comfort in goodbooks when trouble comes, as Ellen Montgomery and Fleda did, andEthel, and the other girls in Miss Yonge's stories," said Eva,earnestly, remembering how much the efforts of those natural littleheroines had helped her in her own struggles tor self-control andthe cheerful bearing of the burdens which come to all.

  "I don't want to be a priggish Ellen, or a moral Fleda, and I dodetest bothering about self-improvement all the time. I know Iought, but I'd rather wait another year or two, and enjoy myvanities in peace just a LITTLE longer." And Carrie tucked Wandaunder the sofa pillow, as if a trifle ashamed of her society, withEva's innocent eyes upon her own, and Alice sadly regarding her overthe rampart of wise books, which kept growing higher as the eagergirl found more and more treasures in this richly stored library.

  A little silence followed, broken only by the patter of the rainwithout, the crackle of the wood fire within, and the scratch of abusy pen from a curtained recess at the end of the long room. In thesudden hush the girls heard it and remembered that they were notalone.

  "She must have heard every word we said!" and Carrie sat up with adismayed face as she spoke in a whisper.

  Eva laughed, but Alice shrugged her shoulders, and said tranquilly,"I don't mind. She wouldn't expect much wisdom from school-girls."

  This was cold comfort to Carrie, who was painfully conscious ofhaving been a particularly silly school-girl just then. So she gavea groan and lay down again, wishing she had not expressed herviews quite so freely, and had kept Wanda for the privacy of her ownroom.

  The three girls were the guests of a delightful old lady, who hadknown their mothers and was fond of renewing her acquaintance withthem through their daughters. She loved young people, and eachsummer invited parties of them to enjoy the delights of herbeautiful country house, where she lived alone now, being thechildless widow of a somewhat celebrated man. She made it verypleasant for her guests, leaving them free to employ a part of theday as they liked, providing the best of company at dinner, gayrevels in the evening, and a large house full of curious andinteresting things to examine at their leisure.

  The rain had spoiled a pleasant plan, and business letters had madeit necessary for Mrs. Warburton to leave the three to their owndevices after lunch. They had read quietly for several hours, andtheir hostess was just finishing her last letter when fragments ofthe conversation reached her ear. She listened with amusement,unconscious that they had forgotten her presence, finding thedifferent views very characteristic, and easily explained by thedifference of the homes out of which the three friends came.

  Alice was the only daughter of a scholarly man and a brilliantwoman; therefore her love of books and desire to cultivate her mindwas very natural, but the danger in her case would be in the neglectof other things equally important, too varied reading, and asuperficial knowledge of many authors rather than a trueappreciation of a few of the best and greatest. Eva was one of manychildren in a happy home, with a busy father, a pious mother, andmany domestic cares, as well as joys, already falling to the dutifulgirl's lot. Her instincts were sweet and unspoiled, and she onlyneeded to be shown where to find new and better helpers for the realtrials of life, when the childish heroines she loved could no longerserve her in the years to come.

  Carrie was one of the ambitious yet commonplace girls who wish toshine, without knowing the difference between the glitter of acandle which attracts moths, and the serene light of a star, or thecheery glow of a fire round which all love
to gather. Her mother'saims were not high, and the two pretty daughters knew that shedesired good matches for them, educated them for that end, andexpected them to do their parts when the time came. The elder sisterwas now at a watering-place with her mother, and Carrie hoped that aletter would soon come telling her that Mary was settled. During herstay with Mrs. Warburton she had learned a good deal, and wasunconsciously contrasting the life here with the frivolous one athome, made up of public show and private sacrifice of comfort,dignity, and peace. Here were people who dressed simply, enjoyedconversation, kept up their accomplishments even when old, and wereso busy, lovable, and charming, that poor Carrie often felt vulgar,ignorant, and mortified among them, in spite of their fine breedingand kindliness. The society Mrs. Warburton drew about her was thebest, and old and young, rich and poor, wise and simple, all seemedgenuine,---glad to give or receive, enjoy and rest, and then go outto their work refreshed by the influences of the place and the sweetold lady who made it what it was. The girls would soon begin lifefor themselves, and it was well that they had this little glimpse ofreally good society before they left the shelter of home to choosefriends, pleasures, and pursuits for themselves, as all young womendo when once launched.

  The sudden silence and then the whispers suggested to the listenerthat she had perhaps heard something not meant for her ears; so shepresently emerged with her letters, and said, as she came smilingtoward the group about the fire,--

  "How are you getting through this long, dull afternoon, my dears?Quiet as mice till just now. What woke you up? A battle of thebooks? Alice looks as if she had laid in plenty of ammunition, andyou were preparing to besiege her."

  The girls laughed, and all rose, for Madam Warburton was a statelyold lady, and people involuntarily treated her with great respect,even in this mannerless age.

  "We were only talking about books," began Carrie, deeply gratefulthat Wanda was safely out of sight.

  "And we couldn't agree," added Eva, running to ring the bell for theman to take the letters, for she was used to these little offices athome, and loved to wait on Madam.

  "Thanks, my love. Now let us talk a little, if you are tired ofreading, and if you like to let me share the discussion. Comparingtastes in literature is always a pleasure, and I used to enjoytalking over books with my girl friends more than anything else."

  As she spoke, Mrs. Warburton sat down in the chair which Alicerolled up, drew Eva to the cushion at her feet, and nodded to theothers as they settled again, with interested faces, one at thetable where the pile of chosen volumes now lay, the other erect uponthe couch where she had been practising the poses "full of languidgrace," so much affected by her favorite heroines.

  "Carrie was laughing at me for liking wise books and wanting toimprove my mind. Is it foolish and a waste of time?" asked Alice,eager to convince her friend and secure so powerful an ally.

  "No, my dear, it is a very sensible desire, and I wish more girlshad it. Only don't be greedy, and read too much; cramming andsmattering is as bad as promiscuous novel-reading, or no reading atall. Choose carefully, read intelligently, and digest thoroughlyeach book, and then you make it your own," answered Mrs. Warburton,quite in her element now, for she loved to give advice, as most oldladies do.

  "But how can we know WHAT to read if we mayn't follow our tastes?"said Carrie, trying to be interested and "intelligent" in spite ofher fear that a "school-marmy" lecture was in store for her.

  "Ask advice, and so cultivate a true and refined taste. I alwaysjudge people's characters a good deal by the books they like, aswell as by the company they keep; so one should be careful, for thisis a pretty good test. Another is, be sure that whatever will notbear reading aloud is not fit to read to one's self. Many younggirls ignorantly or curiously take up books quite worthless, andreally harmful, because under the fine writing and brilliant colorlurks immorality or the false sentiment which gives wrong ideas oflife and things which should be sacred. They think, perhaps, that noone knows this taste of theirs; but they are mistaken, for it showsitself in many ways, and betrays them. Attitudes, looks, carelesswords, and a morbid or foolishly romantic view of certain things,show plainly that the maidenly instincts are blunted, and harm donethat perhaps can never be repaired."

  Mrs. Warburton kept her eyes fixed upon the tall andirons as ifgravely reproving them, which was a great relief to Carrie, whosecheeks glowed as she stirred uneasily and took up a screen as if toguard them from the fire. But conscience pricked her sharply, andmemory, like a traitor, recalled many a passage or scene in herfavorite books which she could not have read aloud even to that oldlady, though she enjoyed them in private. Nothing very bad, butfalse and foolish, poor food for a lively fancy and young mind tofeed on, as the weariness or excitement which always followedplainly proved, since one should feel refreshed, not cloyed, with anintellectual feast.

  Alice, with both elbows on the table, listened with wide-awake eyes,and Eva watched the raindrops trickle clown the pane with an intentexpression, as if asking herself if she had ever done this naughtything.

  "Then there is another fault," continued Mrs. Warburton, wellknowing that her first shot had hit its mark, and anxious to bejust. "Some book-loving lassies have a mania for trying to readeverything, and dip into works far beyond their powers, or try toomany different kinds of self-improvement at once. So they get amuddle of useless things into their heads, instead of well-assortedideas and real knowledge. They must learn to wait and select; foreach age has its proper class of books, and what is Greek to us ateighteen may be just what we need at thirty. One can get mentaldyspepsia on meat and wine as well as on ice-cream and frosted cake,you know."

  Alice smiled, and pushed away four of the eight books she hadselected, as if afraid she had been greedy, and now felt that it wasbest to wait a little.

  Eva looked up with some anxiety in her frank eyes as she said, "Nowit is my turn. Must I give up my dear homely books, and take toRuskin, Kant, or Plato?"

  Mrs. Warburton laughed, as she stroked the pretty brown head at herknee.

  "Not yet, my love, perhaps never, for those are not the masters youneed, I fancy. Since you like stories about every-day people, trysome of the fine biographies of real men and women about whom youshould know something. You will find their lives full of stirring,helpful, and lovely experiences, and in reading of these you willget courage and hope and faith to bear your own trials as they come.True stories suit you, and are the best, for there we get realtragedy and comedy, and the lessons all must learn."

  "Thank you! I will begin at once if you will kindly give me a listof such as would be good for me," cried Eva, with the sweet docilityof one eager to be all that is lovable and wise in woman.

  "Give us a list, and we will try to improve in the best way. Youknow what we need, and love to help foolish girls, or you wouldn'tbe so kind and patient with us," said Alice, going to sit besideCarrie, hoping for much discussion of this, to her, very interestingsubject.

  "I will, with pleasure; but I read few modern novels, so I may notbe a good judge there. Most of them seem very poor stuff, and Icannot waste time even to skim them as some people do. I still likethe old-fashioned ones I read as a girl, though you would laugh atthem. Did any of you ever read 'Thaddeus of Warsaw'?"

  "I have, and thought it very funny; so were 'Evelina' and 'Cecilia.'I wanted to try Smollett and Fielding, after reading some fineessays about them, but Papa told me I must wait," said Alice.

  "Ah, my dears, in my day, Thaddeus was our hero, and we thought thescene where he and Miss Beaufort are in the Park a most thrillingone. Two fops ask Thaddeus where he got his boots, and he replies,with withering dignity, 'Where I got my sword, gentlemen.' Itreasured the picture of that episode for a long time. Thaddeuswears a hat as full of black plumes as a hearse, Hessian boots withtassels, and leans over Mary, who languishes on the seat in ashort-waisted gown, limp scarf, poke bonnet, and large bag,--the heightof elegance then, but very funny now. Then William Wallace in 'ScottishChiefs.' Bless me! w
e cried over him as much as you do over your 'Heirof Clifton,' or whatever the boy's name is. You wouldn't get through it,I fancy; and as for poor, dear, prosy Richardson, his letter-writingheroines would bore you to death. Just imagine a lover saying to afriend, 'I begged my angel to stay and sip one dish of tea. She sippedone dish and flew.'"

  "Now, I'm sure that's sillier than anything the Duchess ever wrotewith her five-o'clock teas and flirtations over plum-cake on lawns,"cried Carrie, as they all laughed at the immortal Lovelace.

  "I never read Richardson, but he couldn't be duller than HenryJames, with his everlasting stories, full of people who talk a greatdeal and amount to nothing. _I_ like the older novels best, andenjoy some of Scott's and Miss Edgeworth's better than Howells's, orany of the modern realistic writers, with their elevators, andpaint-pots, and every-day people," said Alice, who wasted littletime on light literature.

  "I'm glad to hear you say so, for I have an old-fashioned fancy thatI'd rather read about people as they were, for that is history, oras they might and should be, for that helps us in our own efforts;not as they are, for that we know, and are all sufficientlycommonplace ourselves, to be the better for a nobler and wider viewof life and men than any we are apt to get, so busy are we earningdaily bread, or running after fortune, honor or some other bubble.But I mustn't lecture, or I shall bore you, and forget that I amyour hostess, whose duty it is to amuse."

  As Mrs. Warburton paused, Carrie, anxious to change the subject,said, with her eyes on a curious jewel which the old lady wore, "Ialso like true stories, and you promised to tell us about thatlovely pin some day. This is just the time for it,--please do."

  "With pleasure, for the little romance is quite apropos to ourpresent chat. It is a very simple tale, and rather sad, but it had agreat influence on my life, and this brooch is very dear to me."

  As Mrs. Warburton sat silent a moment, the girls all looked withinterest at the quaint pin which clasped the soft folds of muslinover the black silk dress which was as becoming to the stillhandsome woman as the cap on her white hair and the winter roses inher cheeks. The ornament was in the shape of a pansy; its purpleleaves were of amethyst, the yellow of topaz, and in the middle laya diamond drop of dew. Several letters were delicately cut on itsgolden stem, and a guard pin showed how much its wearer valued it.

  "My sister Lucretia was a good deal older than I, for the three boyscame between," began Mrs. Warburton, still gazing at the fire, as iffrom its ashes the past rose up bright and warm again. "She was avery lovely and superior girl, and I looked up to her with wonder aswell as adoration. Others did the same, and at eighteen she wasengaged to a charming man, who would have made his mark had helived. She was too young to marry then, and Frank Lyman had a fineopening to practise his profession at the South. So they parted fortwo years, and it was then that he gave her the brooch, saying toher, as she whispered how lonely she should be without him, 'ThisPENSEE is a happy, faithful THOUGHT of me. Wear it, dearest girl,and don't pine while we are separated. Read and study, write much tome, and remember, "They never are alone that are accompanied withnoble thoughts."'"

  "Wasn't that sweet?" cried Eva, pleased with the beginning of thetale.

  "So romantic!" added Carrie, recalling the "amber amulet" one of herpet heroes wore for years, and died kissing, after he had killedsome fifty Arabs in the desert.

  "Did she read and study?" asked Alice, with a soft color in hercheek, and eager eyes, for a budding romance was folded away in thedepths of her maidenly heart, and she liked a love story.

  "I'll tell you what she did, for it was rather remarkable at thatday, when girls had little schooling, and picked up accomplishmentsas they could. The first winter she read and studied at home, andwrote much to Mr. Lyman. I have their letters now, and very fineones they are, though they would seem old-fashioned to you youngthings. Curious love letters,--full of advice, the discussion ofbooks, report of progress, glad praise, modest gratitude, happyplans and a faithful affection that never wavered, though Lucretiawas beautiful and much admired, and the dear fellow a great favoriteamong the brilliant Southern women.

  "The second spring, Lucretia, anxious to waste no time, andambitious to surprise Lyman, decided to go and study with old Dr.Gardener at Portland. He fitted young men for college, was a friendof our father's, and had a daughter who was a very wise andaccomplished woman. That was a very happy summer, and Lu got on sowell that she begged to stay all winter. It was a rare chance, forthere were no colleges for girls then, and very few advantages to behad, and the dear creature burned to improve every faculty, that shemight be more worthy of her lover. She fitted herself for collegewith the youths there, and did wonders; for love sharpened her wits,and the thought of that happy meeting spurred her on to untiringexertion. Lyman was expected in May, and the wedding was to be inJune; but, alas for the poor girl! the yellow-fever came, and he wasone of the first victims. They never met again, and nothing was lefther of all that happy time but his letters, his library, and thepansy."

  Mrs. Warburton paused to wipe a few quiet tears from her eyes, whilethe girls sat in sympathetic silence.

  "We thought it would kill her, that sudden change from love, hope,and happiness to sorrow, death, and solitude. But hearts don'tbreak, my dears, if they know where to go for strength. Lucretiadid, and after the first shock was over found comfort in her books,saying, with a brave, bright look, and the sweetest resignation, 'Imust go on trying to be more worthy of him, for we shall meet againin God's good time and he shall see that I do not forget.'

  "That was better than tears and lamentation, and the long years thatfollowed were beautiful and busy ones, full of dutiful care for usat home after our mother died, of interest in all the good works ofher time, and a steady, quiet effort to improve every faculty of herfine mind, till she was felt to be one of the noblest women in ourcity. Her influence was wide-spread; all the intelligent peoplesought her, and when she travelled she was welcome everywhere, forcultivated persons have a free-masonry of their own, and arerecognized at once."

  "Did she ever marry?" asked Carrie, feeling that no life could bequite successful without that great event.

  "Never. She felt herself a widow, and wore black to the day of herdeath. Many men asked her hand, but she refused them all, and wasthe sweetest 'old maid' ever seen,--cheerful and serene to the verylast, for she was ill a long time, and found her solace and staystill in the beloved books. Even when she could no longer read them,her memory supplied her with the mental food that kept her soulstrong while her body failed. It was wonderful to see and hear herrepeating fine lines, heroic sayings, and comforting psalms throughthe weary nights when no sleep would come, making friends andhelpers of the poets, philosophers, and saints whom she knew andloved so well. It made death beautiful, and taught me how victoriousan immortal soul can be over the ills that vex our mortal flesh.

  "She died at dawn on Easter Sunday, after a quiet night, when shehad given me her little legacy of letters, books, and the one jewelshe had always worn, repeating her lover's words to comfort me. Ihad read the Commendatory Prayer, and as I finished she whispered,with a look of perfect peace, 'Shut the book, dear, I need study nomore; I have hoped and believed, now I shall know;' and so wenthappily away to meet her lover after patient waiting."

  The sigh of the wind was the only sound that broke the silence tillthe quiet voice went on again, as if it loved to tell the story, forthe thought of soon seeing the beloved sister took the sadness fromthe memory of the past.

  "I also found my solace in books, for I was very lonely when she wasgone, my father being dead, the brothers married, and home desolate.I took to study and reading as a congenial employment, feeling noinclination to marry, and for many years was quite contented amongmy books. But in trying to follow in dear Lucretia's footsteps, Iunconsciously fitted myself for the great honor and happiness of mylife, and curiously enough I owed it to a book."

  Mrs. Warburton smiled as she took up a shabby little volume from thetable where Alice had
laid it, and, quick to divine another romance,Eva said, like a story-loving child, "Do tell about it! The otherwas so sad."

  "This begins merrily, and has a wedding in it, as young girls thinkall tales should. Well, when I was about thirty-five, I was invitedto join a party of friends on a trip to Canada, that being thefavorite jaunt in my young days. I'd been studying hard for someyears, and needed rest, so I was glad to go. As a good book for anexcursion, I took this Wordsworth in my bag. It is full of finepassages, you know, and I loved it, for it was one of the booksgiven to Lucretia by her lover. We had a charming time, and were onour way to Quebec when my little adventure happened. I was inraptures over the grand St. Lawrence as we steamed slowly fromMontreal that lovely summer day. I could not read, but sat on theupper deck, feasting my eyes and dreaming dreams as even staidmaiden ladies will when out on a holiday. Suddenly I caught thesound of voices in earnest discussion on the lower deck, and,glancing down, saw several gentlemen leaning against the rail asthey talked over certain events of great public interest at thatmoment. I knew that a party of distinguished persons were onboard, as my friend's husband, Dr. Tracy, knew some of them, andpointed out Mr. Warburton as one of the rising scientific men of theday. I remembered that my sister had met him years ago, and muchadmired him both for his own gifts and because he had known Lyman.As other people were listening, I felt no delicacy about doing thesame, for the conversation was an eloquent one, and well worthcatching. So interested did I become that I forgot the great raftsfloating by, the picturesque shores, the splendid river, and leanednearer and nearer that no word might be lost, till my book slid outof my lap and fell straight down upon the head of one of thegentlemen, giving him a smart blow, and knocking his hat overboard."

  "Oh, what DID you do?" cried the girls, much amused at thisunromantic catastrophe.

  Mrs. Warburton clasped her hands dramatically, as her eyes twinkledand a pretty color came into her cheeks at the memory of thatexciting moment.

  "My dears, I could have dropped with mortification! What COULD I dobut dodge and peep as I waited to see the end of this most untowardaccident? Fortunately I was alone on that side of the deck, so noneof the ladies saw my mishap and, slipping along the seat to adistant corner, I hid my face behind a convenient newspaper, as Iwatched the little flurry of fishing up the hat by a man in a boatnear by, and the merriment of the gentlemen over this assault ofWilliam Wordsworth upon Samuel Warburton. The poor book passed fromhand to hand, and many jokes were made upon the 'fair Helen' whosename was written on the paper cover which projected it.

  "'I knew a Miss Harper once,--a lovely woman, but her name was notHelen, and she is dead,--God bless her!' I heard Mr. Warburton say,as he flapped his straw hat to dry it, and rubbed his head, whichfortunately was well covered with thick gray hair at that time.

  "I longed to go down and tell him who I was, but I had not thecourage to face all those men. It really was MOST embarrassing; so Iwaited for a more private moment to claim my book, as I knew weshould not land till night, so there was no danger of losing it.

  "'This is rather unusual stuff for a woman to be reading. Someliterary lady doubtless. Better look her up, Warburton. You'll knowher by the color of her stockings when she comes down to lunch,'said a jolly old gentlenoan, in a tone that made me 'rouge high,' asEvelina says.

  "'I shall know her by her intelligent face and conversation, if thisbook belongs to a lady. It will be an honor and a pleasure to meet awoman who enjoys Wordsworth, for in my opinion he is one of ourtruest poets,' answered Mr. Warburton, putting the book in hispocket, with a look and a tone that were most respectful andcomforting to me just then.

  "I hoped he would examine the volume, for Lucretia's and Lyman'snames were on the fly leaf, and that would be a delightfulintroduction for me. So I said nothing and bided my time, feelingrather foolish when we all filed in to lunch, and I saw the otherparty glancing at the ladies at the table. Mr. Warburton's eyepaused a moment as it passed from Mrs. Tracy to me, and I fear Iblushed like a girl, my dears, for Samuel had very fine eyes, and Iremembered the stout gentleman's unseemly joke about the stockings.Mine were white as snow, for I had a neat foot, and was fond of nicehose and well-made shoes. I am so still, as you see." Here the oldlady displayed a small foot in a black silk stocking and delicateslipper, with the artless pride a woman feels, at any age, in one ofher best points. The girls gratified her by a murmur of admiration,and, decorously readjusting the folds of her gown, she went on withthe most romantic episode of her quiet life.

  "I retired to my state-room after lunch to compose myself, and whenI emerged, in the cool of the afternoon, my first glance showed methat the hour had come, for there on deck was Mr. Warburton, talkingto Mrs. Tracy, with my book in his hand. I hesitated a moment, forin spite of my age I was rather shy, and really it was not an easything to apologize to a strange gentle-man for dropping books onhis head and spoiling his hat. Men think so much of their hats youknow. I was spared embarrassment, however, for he saw me and came tome at once, saying, in the most cordial manner, as he showed thenames on the fly leaf of my Wordsworth, 'I am sure we need no otherintroduction but the names of these two dear friends of ours. I amvery glad to find that Miss Helen Harper is the little girl I sawonce or twice at your father's house some years ago, and to meet herso pleasantly again.'

  "That made everything easy and delightful, and when I had apologizedand been laughingly assured that he considered it rather an honorthan otherwise to be assaulted by so great a man, we fell to talkingof old times, and soon forgot that we were strangers. He was twentyyears older than I, but a handsome man, and a most interesting andexcellent one, as we all know. He had lost a young wife long ago,and had lived for science ever since, but it had not made him dry,or cold, or selfish. He was very young at heart for all his wisdom,and enjoyed that holiday like a boy out of school. So did I, andnever dreamed that anything would come of it but a pleasantfriendship founded on our love for those now dead and gone. Dear me!how strangely things turn out in this world of ours, and how thedropping of that book changed my life! Well, that was ourintroduction, and that first long conversation was followed by manymore equally charming, during the three weeks our parties were muchtogether, as both were taking the same trip, and Dr. Tracy was gladto meet his old friend.

  "I need not tell you how delightful such society was to me, nor howsurprised I was when, on the last day before we parted, Mr.Warburton, who had answered many questions of mine during these longchats of ours, asked me a very serious one, and I found that I couldanswer it as he wished. It brought me great honor as well ashappiness. I fear I was not worthy of it, but I tried to be, andfelt a tender satisfaction in thinking that I owed it to dearLucretia, in part at least; for my effort to imitate her made mefitter to become a wise man's wife, and thirty years of very sweetcompanionship was my reward."

  As she spoke, Mrs. Warburton bowed her head before the portrait of avenerable old man which hung above the mantel-piece.

  It was a pretty, old-fashioned expression of wifely pride andwomanly tenderness in the fine old lady, who forgot her own gifts,and felt only humility and gratitude to the man who had found in hera comrade in intellectual pursuits, as well as a helpmeet at homeand a gentle prop for his declining years.

  The girls looked up with eyes full of something softer than merecuriosity, and felt in their young hearts how precious and honorablesuch a memory must be, how true and beautiful such a marriage was,and how sweet wisdom might become when it went hand in hand withlove.

  Alice spoke first, saying, as she touched the worn cover of thelittle book with a new sort of respect, "Thank you very much!Perhaps I ought not to have taken this from the corner shelves inyour sanctum? I wanted to find the rest of the lines Mr. Thorntonquoted last night, and didn't stop to ask leave."

  "You are welcome, my love, for you know how to treat books. Yes,those in that little case are my precious relics. I keep them all,from my childish hymn-book to my great-grandfather's brass-boundBible, for by and by when I
sit 'Looking towards Sunset,' as dearLydia Maria Child calls our last days, I shall lose my interest inother books, and take comfort in these. At the end as at thebeginning of life we are all children again, and love the songs ourmothers sung us, and find the one true Book our best teacher as wedraw near to God."

  As the reverent voice paused, a ray of sunshine broke through theparting clouds, and shone full on the serene old face turned to meetit, with a smile that welcomed the herald of a lovely sunset.

  "The rain is over; there will be just time for a run in the gardenbefore dinner, girls. I must go and change my cap, for literaryladies should not neglect to look well after the ways of theirhousehold and keep themseves tidy, no matter how old they may be."And with a nod Mrs. Warburton left them, wondering what the effectof the conversation would be on the minds of her young guests.

  Alice went away to the garden, thinking of Lucretia and her lover,as she gathered flowers in the sunshine. Conscientious Eva took theLife of Mary Somerville to her room, and read diligently for half anhour, that no time might be lost in her new course of study, Carriesent Wanda and her finery up the chimney in a lively blaze, and, asshe watched the book burn, decided to take her blue and gold volumeof Tennyson with her on her next trip to Nahant, in case anyeligible learned or literary man's head should offer itself as ashining mark. Since a good marriage was the end of life, why notfollow Mrs. Warburton's example, and make a really excellent one?

  When they all met at dinner-time the old lady was pleased to see anosegay of fresh pansies in the bosoms of her three youngest guests,and to hear Alice whisper, with grateful eyes,--

  "We wear your flower to show you that we don't mean to forget thelesson you so kindly gave us, and to fortify ourselves with 'noblethoughts,' as you and she did."