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in a church or chapel ?” said Jean, in- town. He has told me all about her, and quiringly.

is only waiting to be settled, when he will “O no," Orrin answered, “we are not marry her at once." so fortunate as to have either, and the “Well, I must say,” said Clem, petulantLowbury churches are too far away. That ly, “I think I have been shabbily treated, is one reason why I am so anxious about and everything has turned out as badly as the school, because it is really the only possible. I'm sure, I don't see whom you Sunday service our men have. We hold it are to marry now, and you are giving away in a large unfinished workroom, the same the whole of Aunt Drew's legacy without in which the evening school meets. You managing to secure a penny for yourself! have no idea how the people seem to enjoy What are you going to do, Jean?” it. And () Jean, how often I have wished “Go home and go to work, of course!" that our home choir were there with me said Jean, cheerfully.

“ Teach school, to help about the singing! To-night, when maybe. I feel as if I could do anything I came in and heard you singing that beau- now, with this burden off my mind. I have tiful anthem, Come unto me,' it seemed not felt so light-hearted for two years.” to me that I would give worlds to hear it And home she went, feeling like an exsung by the same clear sweet voice among president or a general who has been our people who labor and are heavy

lieved." There would be a few more letladen.'”

ters to write, she thought, a few more Jean made no reply, she was busy think- newspaper items to read, and then the riping. The dancing had stopped, and Clem

ples in her life would all die out, leaving was at the piano, singing “Within a mile perfect peace and calm. For a while she O' Edinboro' towu." After a moment's was glad of this anticipated quiet, but afpause Orrin begaa again; he was talking

ter the first welcoine sensation of rest, she now of Dr. Rawley and the old times in began to feel lost without her “burden." the choir, but Jean did not seem to heed She had now no more far-away possible inwhat he was saying.

terest in struggling churches in Maine or “Why, Orrin!" she exclained, sudden- Michigan; no more St. Barnabases would ly; "the more I think of it, the more

ask her for bells, nor poor students seek plainly I see it! I am so glad I waited! her help in getting a theological education. Don't you see? I must build a church at Everything was now centered down into Lowbury with Aunt Drew's legacy.”

one fixed point, Lowbury church, but she could not even see it building, or scarcely

realize it. CHAPTER VIII.

Still, it was pleasant to be consulted in

regard to the many building plans proGOING to build a church at Lowbury!"

posed, and here Arthur Sterrett's informacried Clein, a few days after, when on re

tion did her good service. It was pleasant. ceiving a letter of approval from Dr. Raw

to have a drawing of the fine lot which the ley, Jean announced her plans. “That manufacturing firm had donated, and tosmoky, grimy manufacturing town! I

be told, in a special letter of good news, must say, I don't admire your taste! And

that they were going also to build a rectory. what, pray, is to become of Arthur

Then Orrin sent her two fine drawings. Sterrett?

made by himself, after the plan of the “He wiil receive a call to become the

church was fully decided on, representing: first rector of Emanuel,” said Jean, who the interior and exterior as it would appear had already talked the inatter over with when complete. Jean pored over these, Orrin, and introduced him to the zealous

and studied out transept and choir-loft, young clergyman.

columus and arches, with great interest. “Ah, ab!" answered Clem, mindful of “I don't see but Sis is just as busy as her plads. “Now, Jean darling, you know ever,” said Robbie, one duy. “Orrin, he I am dying of curiosity. Please do tell writes and asks her about everything, just me, are you going to be the rector's wife ?!

as if she was the pope !" "No indeed !” replied Jean, laughing. But it was pleasant to be consulted, cer“That honor belongs to a very sweet tainly, and kept up a little ripple in life young lady living in Mr. Sterrett's native still.

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“It makes the world so much broader," ilies—could all this be, in any least degree, Jean said to her mother one day. “I had owing to ber, to any small self-denial of a great deal rather be thinking about hers, to any slight privation she had borne ? church building than about tatting, and Not for her own merit, she knew that, but rufling, and fluting."

to think that God should have used any “Each is good in its place," said Mrs. little event in her life to work out such Argyle.

great good, the wonder and the blessedness O, I know that, mother," replied Jean, of it cvercame her. who was at that very moment setting neat “O, I can never, never be thankful little stitches in a shirt for Robbie. “I'm enough,” she thought, “ that Aunt Drew willing to let my fingers hem, you see, but left that money just as she did !" I wont keep my thoughts hemming."

The Rev. Arthur Sterrett was also presTime passed on, and Lowbury church ent at the consecration services, full of was almost done. When a question arose zeal and interest in his new parish, and about its windows, their colors, subjects bringing with him a gentle sweet-voiced and symbols, Jean wrote to Orrin:

bride. Jean smiled as she recalled some “Only one thing I insist on, and that is of the vain plans that had been made in a narrow purple window similar to the one his behalf. I like so much in our dear old church here, “How absurd Clem was!" she said to opening out into the elm. I always loved herself. “ I really don't expect ever to be to look at it, and may be soine dreamy married at all!" Lowbury girl will love to look at one, too, “I have loved you for years, Jean, will in Emanuel."

you marry me?” asked Orrin Drew, ten “She shall look at it herself, God will- minutes later, as they stood by themselves ing" said Orrin, as he read her letter. up in the bell-tower, looking out over the

And she did. When the church was factories and the parish; and Jean laid her completed at last, and the day of consecra

hand in his for her auswer. So much for tion arrived, Dr. Rawley, with bis sister expectations! and Jean, went down to Lowbury to the “Dear me! are all our choir going over solemn ceremonies. Jean trod the aisles to Lowbury!" exclaimed Mrs. Marlowe, in a sort of happy wonder. Wbat! this when she heard how things were going. great fair house of the Lord, where the “It is just as it should be," said good old word of life would be dispensed to such Dr. Rawley. “And may our two young crowds of poor workingmen aud their fam- friends be like Isaac and Rebecca !"



You never heard of “Uncle Jerry,"

You say you never heard of Jerry, With his gray hair and old slouched hat, His mare, and saddle of tough pigskin,

And sorrel mare with pigskin saddle- And garments quaint, and form bent She always knew old Jerry's straddle

double? Though I hardly wished to tell you that, Well, his feet were his only trouble,

They were so terribly long and thin! But of a trick this queer old “Sorrel” (That is the name that she was known by) I told you how the townfolk borrowed Would play on every one that strode Old Jerry's mare, but the tricks she'd play her,

Were deuced queer, when you consider, Excepting Jerry-when he rode her

Jerry she'd always safe deliver, She'd travel nicely and never shy.

Yet throw his neighbors day after day. Now, in the town where Uncle Jerry Old Sorrel at last became so bad, Resided years without a quarrel,

Her owner's life was one of sorrow; The townfolk had not much to brag on, No one was brave enough to stride her,

I mean in the way of a horse or wagon, Unless 'twas Jerry; he could ride her, So, frequently they'd borrow Sorrel. But all the town bad ceased to borrow.

A long, long time it was whispered round This way it happened: one day Jerry,
Old Jerry bad leagued with the evil one. Mounted and gray, with his hat turned
To ride that mare, a feat they wouldn't

down, “Risk anybaow;" you see they couldn't Shook the bridle of his queer old mare, Tell“ jist ezactly hacw it were done.” (An act, by the way, none else would

dare), Here is a fact I should have mentioned,

Entered the highway and drove to town. And it's just as well to state it here, Old Jerry's mare-whene'er he'd let her

Here's another fact perhaps you've noGo in the shafts-no horse was better;

ticed, The fact that she liked the shafts was clear.

That in most villages you've passed through I've seen her amble along as quiet

Post-offices seem a place for loafing,
As any family horse you'd find,

Tobacco smoke and endless joking.
But out of the shafts one couldn't use her; I think they're always so, don't you?
Coax ber you might, or e'en abuse her;
Jerry was the only man she'd mind. At all events, that morning Jerry,
It may seem strange to you, dear reader,

When be reached the village office, found

Some of his townfolk there collectedBut Jerry himself could never tell The secret of his old mare's action,

Through his mare he wasn't much reOr why she'd show for him attraction,

spectedYet throw others around right well.

And they joked him rather freely round. But finally the old chap learned it At last one says (he had been drinking), Most secrets must have an end, you know; “I doesn't wish (hic) ter excite any laughs, Now do you think the knowledge pleased But, bless me! a lookin' at Jerry's feet, him,

I've found out how he (bic) rides so Or, on the other hand, it teased him?

complete; Hazard a guess ere the truth I show. His old mare thinks she's atween the shafts."



CHAPTER I. It was New Year's Eve-the snow fell fast and thick on the frozen ground. In Bloomsbury Square the trees and lawns were white and crisp with frozen snow. The crimson curtains and the blazing fires made the dining-rooms of the handsome old-fashioned houses of the square seem earthly paradises to the houseless, barefooted outcasts, whose “rags of wretchedness" were blown aside by the keen east wind. That cruel wind drove the snowflakes in their pinched blue faces, and covered their tattered garments and lean sallow flesh with what was at one moment a white overcoat, and the next an icy bath.

With what wolfish eyes these shivering famisbed stepchildren of Fortune glared first at the dining-tables, covered with a Stowy damask, and glittering with glass, china and silver, on which the firelight was reflected like rubies and topazes, and then at the clean cosy kitchen, where be

fore the noble fire the turkey, the saddle of mutton, or the sirloin was roasting.

One of the houses in question belonged to Mr. Pomfret, a solicitor with a fair business in the city. He had a showy, handsome wife, a very proud, pretentious and pedantic woman, but subtle and sly, withal -a tyrant where she dared, and ruling Mr. Pomfret, who doted on her, but who had a great idea of man's supremacy, by pretending to obey him, always the while craftily managing to have her own way in everything. They had six children-two boys and four girls. The eldest, a boy, was fourteen; the youngest, a girl, was four. One poor pale governess-Miss Moss-educated the four girls, and had charge of the two mischievous boys-Master Wellington and Master Nelson-during the holidays.

Mrs. Pomfret was of a warlike spirit, and was very fond of fine heroic names. Her father had been a captain in the marines -she had berself dubbed him "colonel” after his decease-and she was equally at- Miss Moss was a second cousin of M:. tached to both the army and the navy. Pomfret's, an orphan, and quite destitute; However, the great boasting-piece of the she had only been received by Mrs. Pomfamily was Mr. Pomfret's younger and only fret, bearded, lodged, and paid twenty brother, Sir Harry Pomfret.

pounds a year, at Sir Harry's request, on He was a barrister in good practice, had the condition that the relationship was to written a law book, which had become an be kept secret, and never alluded to. Anauthority, and was so lively, gentlemanly other cousin of Mr. Pomfret's—Delia, comand popular that he made friends wherever monly called Dahlia Domvile-also lived he went.

with the Pomfrets. She had been so He was indeed so bright, so genial, and named by an Irish suitor, who naturally so lovable that even those clients who had pronounced Delia Dahlia, and her style of weak causes he could not gain retained beauty and her gorgeous velvet dresses him still as a friend, and continued their gave her a close resemblance to that splenrefreshers" in the shape of good dinners did flower, the dahlia. The Irishman's and choice old wines. On the other hand, blunder was universally adopted. Miss those clients for whom he gained by his Domvile also lived with the Pomfrets. Mr. eloquence and learning all-important ver- Pomfret was her guardian. She had some dicts positively idolized lim.

fortune, and paid one hundred pounds per One among them, a nobleman of politi- annum for her board and lodging. She cal influence, obtained for Harry Pomfret was a great belle and a great flirt, and hava colonial judgeship with the honor of ing a high spirit, Mrs. Pomfret was as obknighthood, and “our brother, Sir Harry sequious to her as she was overbearing Pomfret, the judge,” became Mrs. Pom- to Miss Moss. fret's favorite boasting-piece, in conjunc- On the landing of the second floor Mrs. tion with my father, the colonel.”

Pomfret met Masters Wellington and NelSir Harry had been abroad three years son giggling. at the time of which we are writing, and “ Who dared to throw pence out to begwas about thirty-five years of age. It was, gars, against all my rules and orders ?” as we have said, New Year's Eve, and asked Mrs. Pomfret. “Not you, I am snowing fast. Mrs. Pomfret was in full

sure, my precious loves ?'' dress. Mr. Pomfret had promised to re- “I know-it was Miss Moss, mamma," turn from his office at five to dinner, in said Master Wellington. order to take herself and the children to “She's always giving to beggars," said the play-a great treat this, for Toole, the Master Nelson. comic genius of the age, the Liston of our Mrs. Pomfret, red with wrath, entered time, at once the Hogarth and Puiz of the the schoolroom. stage, was to delight the audience with “ Who has been throwing pence out of two of those rare conceptions of mingled the window to beggars ?" she asked. mirth and pathos, fun and feeling, which “I did," said Miss Moss. “The poor have made hin the acknowledged genius creatures seemed starving with cold and of the grotesque and the graceful, grand hunger." master of the twin sources of smiles and “I have soup-tickets at your service, tears.

and indiscriminate charily is the especial Mrs. Pomfret was hungry and cross, and aversion of Mr. Pomfret and myself. By was watching for her husband's cab, and encouraging street beggars, alias robbers, scowling at the ragged wolf-eyed outcasts Miss Moss, you risk our being murdered in glaring at the roasting turkey at the kitch- our beds. Pray do not repeat an act so en fire, when suddenly from an upper win- very annoying to me, and worse still to Mr. dow a few pence wrapped in paper fell at Pomfret." He bare blue feet of one of the outcasts. Miss Moss bowed her head in token of

Mrs. Poinfret reddened with anger, and submission. rushed up stairs. The schoolroom was on Ma, pa's come, and wants you directly. the second tloor. She suspected Miss Moss He's got a letter from Uncle Harry, and a of the offence that had exasperated her. present." She wanted to vent her ill-huinor on some 6For me?" asked Mrs. Pomfret. one-the safest person in the house was “0, he doesn't know yet-he hasn't Miss Moss,

opened it; but it's something in a red mo- ent for his bride-elect. I couldn't refuse rocco case, for I saw that through a hole them, though I could him, and they must in the paper,” said Nelson.

go together, I suppose. How they'll set “ Which you tore, young shaver,” said off my Lady Pomfret! Ah, you handsome the elder boy, in a whisper.

flirt, you !" she added, shaking her curls, Mrs. Pomfret had hurried down stairs. while addressing her own blooming image Miss Moss, pale and trembling, had sank in the toilet-glass; “ you were born to be back in her chair. She was leaning her 'my lady'-you know you were. How arms upon her desk, and her face on her well the title suits my style of beauty-now hands, and was weeping silently. She said doesn't it, Rose? But isn't it a pity Sir to herself:

Harry Pomfret hasn't Phil's handsome “Why should I care for Mrs. Pomfret's face and fine form, and Phil's wit and geunkindness? He has been heard of. He nius, too? Dou't you think so now?" is well-perhaps he has sent a kind mes- Rose did not-could not-speak. sage to Cousin Rose.

He never was “I say, Rose, are you ill ?” said Dahlia. ashamed to own me, Heaven bless bim!” “ How pallid and bad you do look!"

The children were all to go to the play. “No, I'm not ill, thank you." Poor Rose had dressed them, and they “0, perhaps it's only the contrast of my were gone down to dessert. She was just complexion and yours.

That's not my sitting down to her weak tea and dry toast fault, nor yours, either. Here's Sir Harry's when Dahlia Domvile, the belle of Blooms- letter to Mr. Pomfret-do read it." bury, came in.

Carriage at the door, miss,” said Ann O Rose," she cried, “ do help me with at this moment. these plaits and curls—I can't make them “Coming," cried Dahlia. • Light me feel safe-and then fix this wreath for me; down, Ann;" and without even a “ Thank and I am sure that great stupid Ann has you!" or a Good-night!" she hurried laced my dress awry-I feel quite crooked.” away.

Rose complied-a hole bad been missed. Rose Moss did not even remark her rudeWhile Rose set it right, Dahlia said:

Cousin Harry's letter was in her “I've such news to tell you, Rose-Sir cold trembling hand-the letter in which Harry will be here to-morrow.”

he offered himself to his lovely cousin, the Rose, in her turn, missed a hole. She belle of Bloomsbury. turned pale and red, and for a moment

“No wonder that he chooses Delia," she felt very faint.

said to herself,“ sbe is so handsome." “You'll never guess what Cousin Harry She glanced at herself in the mirror, is coming for,” said Dahlia. “To take a which reflected a very slender form, robed wife back with bim, and that wife no less in deep mourning, small delicate features, a person than the belle of Bloomsbury." a very pale complexion, dark eyes full of

* But I thought,” said Rose, “you in- tears, and a profusion of glossy black hair, tended to marry Mr. Philip Flounder p! simply braided and coiled round a little

“I did, poor fellow; but I must bowl Grecian head. What a contrast to Delia's him over-he can't make me 'my lady,' masses of golden hair and ringlets floating and Sir Harry can. But O Rose, I called down her back, her brilliant complexion, on Phil's mother to-day, on the sly, and her scarlet lips and her turquoise eyes. he's been called to the bar.' Called! “ How handsome she looked to-night in There's an honor! Think of that! As his that green velvet and white satin, with all Tery gifted mother says, people are not that point lace, and those gems setting off *called' if they are not wanted. I saw her white shoulders, fine bust and lovels him in his new wig and gown. He looked arms; but how will Cousin Harry like such lovely. Sir Harry,” continued Dahlia, " is a low dress and such short sleeves? He an ugly old bore compared to Phil, and used to be so very fastidious, so particular. yben Phil is Lord Chancellor, his wife O that she were worthier of him! Can will be my lady,' indeed. But I might she, the admired of all, ever love him as I, bare so long to wait, and a bird in the the sliglıted of all, have loved-alas! weak hand is worth two in the bush.' And O willful heart-do love him still ?" Rose, Sir Harry has sent such a lovely set Poor Rose Moss sat down by her frugal of pearls and emeralds as a wedding pres- fire, poured out her weak tea, and nerved


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