Wise and otherwise

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Author op "Tir Lewis," "Ester Ried," "Three People," * Jvvu
Rib©," Etc. Eic.

BOSTON:
D. LOTHROP & CO

Entered according to Act or CoDgress, in the year 1873,

By WESTERN TRACT AND BOOK SOCIETY,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at WashingtoiSL

CHAPTER I.

*' I have given thee a wise and an understanding heart."

She stood with head bent a little on one
Fide, and a look of pleased eagerness on her
face, surveying her handiwork. It was a beau-
tiful room, a green and mossy carpet on the
floor, a green tint to the paper on the wall,
green borders to the white linen shades, heavy
walnut furniture, cushioned in green, two dainty
sofas in corresponding corners, another corner
occupied with one of those delightful arrange-
ments whose delightful name suggests its pleas-
ant use — a what-not ! I do wonder who orig-
inated that name? This species of it was
beautiful to look upon; its carving was delicate
ftnd graceful, as became its belongings — charm-
ing little books, rows of them in green and gold,

»

4 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

and on the upper shelves lovely sea-tinted
shells, a moss basket with a fern in the center
and dainty vines trailing over the edges, a
photograph in a shell frame of a fair-faced,
kneeling child, another in a frame of purple
velvet of that wonderful face and figure cling-
ing to the "Rock of Ages," delicate white vases
holding sprays of sweet-smnlling flowers, rare
little bits of art and skill and taste scat ered
endlessly among the larger treasures — and oh,
what not? Filling one entire end of the room
was a handsome bookcase, with massive doors
of plate-glass, some books therein, but much
space left vacant for the fortunate owner of be-
loved books. The walls were hung with choice
pictures, with here and there an illuminated text
of rare beauty and strength ; on the wide win-
dow seat a potted rose was blooming, a sweet-
scented geranium by its side helped to perfume
the air.

An open door revealed an inner room, as
perfect in its way as the other. A chamber set
of rich and graceful pattern, the smooth, wrhito
bed smiling on you, from the puffy frilled pil-
low covers to the glowing fuscias painted on
the foot scroll, and beyond, still, just a glimpse
of bath-room and dressing-room, fragrant with
various soaps and prodigal of mirrors and tow-
els. Certainly, everything was complete. Mrs.

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 5

Sayles lifted a vase of geraniums and pansies
from one of the little tables and set it on the
window scat, then, after a little, went for it
and brought it back again to the table. The
effect was better. Clearly, there was nothing
left to do. She had exhausted her skill and
taste.

"Abbic!" called a clear, ringing voice, and
the »wner of it had one foot on the stair below
and stood looking up. Mrs. Sayles at once re-
sponded,—

"Yes; come up, Julia, and see the rooms;"
and Mrs. Dr. Douglass ran swiftly up stairs and
joined her cousin.

You have heard nothing about her, at least
since her sister Ester died, except from her own
pen, when she was Julia Ried ; so I may as well
tell you that she is a handsome woman, well
dressed and well appearing, with more dignity
than you have an idea of her possessing, and
yet with a dash of the impetuosity of manner
that characterized her girlhood. She spoke in
the same brisk, rapid tone that she was wont to
use.

"How perfectly delightful you have made
them! Abbie, what is this? Oh, I see — a
wildwood vine. Isn't it lovely? Oh, how
pleasant it is. I should like to be the new
minister myself, and come and board with you,
for the sake of these rooms."

6 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Do you suppose they will like them?"
"Like them! Unless they are barbarians,

they Trill be enchanted. Where is Jerome?
The doctor has been ready for him this half
hour."

"I don't know. He had some business to
attend to ; but he said he should certainly be
in time for the train."

"Why, it is not train time yet, is it?"

"Oh, no, only Jerome is always more than
prompt."

"Sit down a minute, Abbie, you look tired.
These chairs haven't become ministerial yet.
I'll try one ; " and Mrs. Douglass sank into one
of the great green chairs, while Abbie took an
ottoman just in front.

"It's a queer world," Mrs. Douglass contin-
ued, pursuing aloud her train of thought.
"Just to think of you, Abbie Ried, in your
own house, getting rooms ready for the new
minister and his wife; and I, Julia Ried, leav-
ing my multitudinous cares to come up here and
gossip with you about it I That last, though,
is natural enough." -

"You have left out a most important part,"
Mrs. Sayles said, laughing; "namely, that you
are not Julia Ried, and I a J) not Abbie Ried ;
but we are both staid and dignified married
women."

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 7

"Aye, I have a realizing sense of that fact;
at least I realize the doctor. But about this
new ministers wife, Abbie. Are you going to
like her?"

"I mean to," Mrs. Sayles said, setting her
lips with a resolute little air that reminded one
of Abbie Ried.

"Let us begin right, Julia, and like her any-
way. If her husband has chosen her from all
other women she must be a suitable wife for
him."

"Doesn't follow," answered Mrs. Douglass,
promptly. "For instance, the doctor chose
me."

"Well," said Mrs. Sayles, brightly ; "granted
that that was a singular blunder. Mr. Dou°r-
lass is different from most other men, you
know, in a great many respects. Generally
they make. very good selections; and do you
know I want so much to like this woman, to
find a helper in her spiritually. I want to do
so much for her comfort and pleasure, and I
don't know how to commence."

"You'll discover, I haven't the least doubt.
But don't your heart ache for just a five-minutes
talk with Mrs. Mulford?"

Mrs. Sayles turned herself around from her
sideways position, and looked at her cousin
fully and earnestly.

8 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Julia, don't, I beg of you, whisper such a
sentence in this room. I am afraid it will hide
among the curtains or somewhere, and come out
to haunt them. And if there is anything that
does seem horrible to me, it is when anybody
and his wife are trying to do the very best that
they can to have somebody politely and solemn-
ly flinging Mr. and Mrs. or Miss somebody else
at them, who were patterns of excellence."

"I know," assented Mrs. Douglass cordially.
,J Frank was discoursing on that very theme last
evening. She was telling the doctor that if she
were a minister she would hope that her prede-
cessor had been an excellent man, that the peo-
ple had loved him to distraction, and that he had
died and gone to heaven, in which case she
wouldn't expect to hear very much about him ;
but to receive a six thousand dollar call to Bos-
ton, as Dr. Mulford has done, was so much
more important a matter than going to heaven,
that she heartily pitied our new minister and his
wife. I consoled her, however," continued Mrs.
Douglass, "by assuring her that Mrs. Martyn
would be the only one who would be likely to
ring the changes very extensively on Dr. Mul-
ford's name, and the new-comers could keep out
of her way until she had a new idea."

'"Mrs. Martyn!" repeated Mrs. Sayles, in
laughing astonishment. "Whv in the world

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 9

should she trouble her brains over Dr. Mul-
ford?"

"Isn't your knowledge of human nature deep
enough to comprehend that fact? Didn't Mrs.
Martyn cordially dislike him, and didn't she give
him more trouble than all the rest of the people
put together ? And aren't they the very persons
who always have the most to say about ' our be-
loved former pastor ? ' "

"What an idea !" said Mrs. Sayles, still laugh-
ing; and Mrs. Douglass added emphatically, —

"You see if it isn't just as I say. I have
heard such people talk before. It is my
bounden duty to go home. Where is baby
Essie?"

"In the nursery. And, Julia," said Mrs.
Sayles, rising to follow her flying visitor into
the hall, "I think she is asleep. I told the
doctor how you awakened her out of a sound
sleep, and he said you must not do it."

"I'm not afraid of the doctor !" Mrs. Douglass
answered, looking back with a little defiant
laugh. " But I won't waken her this morning,
because I really am in too much haste."

Mrs. Sayles went back to her fair bright
rooms to take one last peep at them. There
really didn't seem to be anything else that she
could do for them to evince her love and respect
for the occupants. Yes, one thing more. She

10 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

closed the hall door quietly, turned the key in
the lock, then going over to the study-chair she
sank on her knees before it. And if that com-
ing pastor could have heard the earnest, simple,
trustful prayer that went up to God for him and
his, I think he must have been strengthened in
his resolves and efforts. It was in a sense a ded-
ication of these newly prepared rooms to their
new use. The heart of Mrs. Sayles evidently
retained in all its freshness and simplicity the
singularly childlike earnest faith that had char-
acterized Abbic Ried. Kneeling there she en-
tered into solemn covenant with her Saviour to
WiZtch her life and her words and her heart, to
see that in no way did she interfere with the
usefulness and happiness of her pastor and his
wife ; to see that in all things she proved a help
and not a stumbling-block. She prayed that
his work among them might be blessed to the
Church and to his own soul ; that he might be
constantly upheld by the strong Arm ; that his
armor :night be sufficient to shield him from the
darts that would be flung at him here and there.
In short she tried to envelop him and themselves
in un atmosphere of prayer and faith. Thank
G )d for the earnest, childlike Christians, who,
when they kneel to pray, carry their under-
shepherds by faith to the very footstool of the
throne, and bring every thought that they have

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 11

concerning them and their work to the solemn
test of prryer. Only God knows how much of
the success of certain great and eminent minis
ters of the gospel is due to those humble, un-
known closet-workers.

It was when the hostess was in the kitchen,
seeing to it that the preparations for dinner
were going steadily and prosperously forward,
that the stopping of a carriage before the door,
a rattle of trunks upon the pavement, a bustle
in the hall, and the cheery voice of her husband
calling her name, announced the arrival of the
travelers a few minutes earlier than they were
expected. She waited only to unfasten her
large apron, rub a little streak of flour from her
cheek, and then she ran hastily up, a bright,
glad light of welcome in her eyes, and' gave
most hearty and cordial reception toyfier new
pastor ; then turned to take her first look at the
small, fair creature at his side, as he said, —

"And now, Mrs. Savles, let me make you ac-
quainted with Mrs. Tresevant."

CHAPTER n.

"And who knoweth whether he shall be a wise man or a fooL"

Mr. Tresevant sat in his pleasant study,
sermon in hand, reading it over preparatory to
preaching it in his own church — his first sermon
to that people since he became their pastor.
The day was perfect, a June Sabbath, in all the
freshness and sweet-scentedness and sunniness
that June can sometimes array herself in. In
the next room Mrs. Tresevant could be heard
stepping quietly about, humming now and then
a scrap of melody, stopping in the middle of a
word, as if in perplexity. In truth she was.
On this most pure and quiet of Sabbath morn-
ings she was occupied with the old, be wilderi no-
question, "Wherewithal shall I be clothed?"
Presently she pushed open the separating door
and sought counsel.

"Carroll, what shall I wear to-day?"
Mr. Tresevant did not glance up from his
manuscript, did not take his thoughts entirely
away from his sermon, but there floated dream-
u

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 13

ily before him the vision of a fair and graceful
form clad in white lawn, with little touches of
sky-blue set here and there. He could not tell
where, or how, only he knew the dress im-
pressed him as eminently fit and proper. This
vision did not take name. He was too busy
with his sermon to inquire whence it came, but
he answered his wife in a dreamy way, —

"Oh, something simple."

A low, soft laugh gurgled up from Mrs.
Tresevant's throat.

"I believe that is the sum and substance of
your knowledge and taste on the subject," she
said, good-humoredly. "Wouldn't you like,
now, to have me wear a white dress with pink
ribbons ? "

"I should think it might be very pretty," the
minister answered, continuing the last word into
the next sentence of his sermon, thereby mak-
ing a strange mixture.

"There!" — triumphantly, from Mrs. minis-
ter. "I thought as much I Now, I would have
you to know, you stupid creature, that people
of taste and sense don't wear white to church,
unless, indeed, they are in the country; and
even then I hardly consider it admissible."

Again there floated that vision of white lawn,
or whatever the material might have been;
gingham, for aught he knew, but white certain-

14 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

ly, pure and spotless white. Was that inad-
missible? To be sure, Lewiston was much
more "country" than Newton. Bat then she
looked so very — here the minister stopped
abruptly and gave close attention to his sermon.
He began to be dimly conscious who the vision
was.

Mrs. Tresevant waited a reasonable length of
time for a reply to her last sentence, and re-
ceiving nothiug more definite than a line or two
of sermon, drew the door to with a suddenness
that betokened a slight touch of impatience, and
returned to silent meditation before the bed.
That bed was a wonder to behold. The white
spread had entirely disappeared beneath a mound
of billowy silk. No wonder the fair owner
thereof was puzzled. There was a suit of daz-
zling, heavenly blue, trimmed — skirt, over-
skirt, basque, flounce — with rows upon rows
of amazing white lace ; there was a suit of the
most delicate lavender, made brilliant and start-
ling with its contrasted trimmings of blue ;
there was a suit of summer silk, of that rare
and delicate tint and stripe that suggests a faint
neutral apology for the otherwise almost white,
shining mass ; this too, was made absolutely
wonderful with the amount and bewilderment
of flounce and puff and plait. Now, in which
of all these elegant rustles to appear, on her

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 15

first Sabbath in Newton, was the solemn and Im-
portant question that was weighing on the heart
of the wife of the pastor-elect of the Regent
Street Church.

Clear and sweet sounded out the tones of the
Sabbath bell, heeded by the minister in his
study, who drew forth his watch with a startled
air, and, mindful of sundry experiences in the
past, sounded out his warning, —

"Laura, you will be late."

"Well," pushing open the door an inch or
two, "if 1 am, it will be your own fault; you
wouldn't tell me what to wear."

"My dear, what does it matter? Wear any-
thing."

"Oh, 3Tes, that is what you always say —
'What does it matter?' It may not matter in
the least to you ; but I want to make a respec-
table appearance for my own sake, if not for
yours."

The door slammed just a little this time,
and Mrs. Tresevaut gave undivided attention
to her gold-colored hair. It all ended in Mr.
Tresevant hunting hurriedly and nervously for
his list of hymns at the last minute — in his
wife rushing forward to say, "I do wish, Car-
roll, you could leave that stupid sermon long
enough to button my glove" — in a desperate
wrench at the troublesome buttons, which, with

16 WISE AXD OTHERWISE.

the perversity of their race, persisted in turning
over, and slipping under, and doing everything
but allowing themselves to be placed in the hole
made on purpose for them — in the final tri-
umph of one of the wretches, that flew off to
the floor and rolled under the table — in Mrs.
Trcsevant, very red and indignant, insisting on
waiting to change her gloves, utterly scoffing at
her husband's idea that three buttons on a glove
were "too much, anyway" — in Mr. Sayles be-
low stairs standing like a solemn sentinel of
doom, rattling the door-handle, while his wife
stood quietly by, waiting patiently — in agoing
back twice when they were half way down the
length of the hall, once for a handkerchief, and
once for the all-important sermon, while the
bell tolled on exasperatingly — finally, in a
frantic rush down stairs, a breathless gallop to
church, and a brisk trot down the aisle, carry-
ing flushed and disturbed faces, while the eyes
of the assembled congregation looked them
through.

The pastor's pew in the Eegent Street Church
in Newton was the same that it was years be-
fore, but the row of little Mulfords who were
wont to look up from it to their father's face
was gone. No green velvet bonnet in winter,
nor one a trifle the worse for wear in summer,
would trouble the eyes of the fastidious in those

WISE A^D OTHERWISE. 17

matters for some time to come. The rustling
blue silk that had finally won the day in the
conflict on the bed spread its bright, white-
capped waves on either side, until you felt glad
that there was no one else to occupy that pew.
The bonnet was such a marvel of lace and rib-
bon, and rare and costly flowers, as none but a
professional milliner would undertake to de-
scribe. In fact, little Mrs. Laura Tresevant
on that fair June day would have done very
well for an exquisite fashion plate, to grace tho
first page of a superior fashion magazine. Who
had a better right than she to all those elegant
trifles? Was she not the only daughter of
Enquire Burton, who was worth fifty thousand
dollars? To be sure, she was unaware that tho
meek-faced little Mrs. Saylcs, sitting in tho next
pew but one, clad in her modest suit of steely
gray poplin, was the only daughter of Mr. Ealph
Eied, of New York City, whose real estate was
worth five hundred thousand dollars ; nor }ret
that Mrs. Aleck Tyndall, in the pew exactly
behind hers, sat beside a husband who actually
counted his wealth by millions.

Nobody certainly would have imagined their
different positions from the attire of the three
ladies; so Mrs. Tresevant remained in bli
ignorance of the same, and buttoned her lemon-
colored kids complacently, while the organ
2

18 WISE AXD OTHERWISE.

rolled its voluntary through the church. It
was a good organ, and well played, exceedingly
well played. Newtonians thought, and expect-
ed their pastor to take pride in the same; but
he, truth to tell, had been accustomed for a
Ion.** time to the skill and touch of Dell Bron-
son, and she was counted a fine player, even in
Boston ; so the beauty of the music did not
overwhelm him, as the organist intended it
should.

Music, and prayer ; and preliminary Bible
reading being concluded, the clergyman an-
nounced his text. Of course you know what
it was — that oft-repeated sentence so dear to
the heart of every young minister, so unhesi-
tatingly selected by them as the most appropri-
ate of all texts for them to use for the first time
in a new field. This, while they were young.
As the years go by the sermon is less often
preached, and, when preached at all, is first
read over thoughtfully, with many a conscien-
tious pause as to whether he is sure enough of
his own heart to boldly make such and such an
rtiou ; and there will be an erasure here and
there, and many interliuings, until the sermon
of which he was once so proud, looks like a
piece of patchwork ; and, finally, there comes
a, day when, after a more thoughtful reading
than usual, the earnest pastor takes a loving

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 19

look at that which was once so clear, and opens
the stove-door and chucks it in, remarking with
a bit of a sigh as he watches it blaze up like
pine shavings, "I know my own heart too well
to preach that sermon any more." No such ex-
periences had as yet come to Mr. Trescvant.
He announced his text in a clear and confident
tone: "For I determined not to know any-
thing among you save Jesus Christ, and him
crucified." After the fashion of the aforesaid
young ministers, he ignored the fact that this
was part of St. Paul's letter to the church at
Corinth, after much of his blessed work among
them had been accomplished, not on the oeca-
ision of his first coming among them. Neither
said he anything of St. Paul's preceding sen-
tence, "And I, brethren, when I came to yon,
came not with excellency of speech or of wis-
dom." And not a whisper of the sentence fol-
lowing his text : "And I was with you in weak-
ness, and in fear, and in much trembling."
They would not have been appropriate to the
occasion. Well, he certainly had a right to
select the text he did as the exponent of the
determination at which he had arrived in com-
ing among them. If only it had been true —
if such had been his solemn, fixed, conscien-
tious determination. If he had come that morn-
ing from his closet to his pulpit, thrilled, per-

20 WISE AXD OTHERWISE.

located, with the longing to know nothing
among them save Jesus Christ, and him cruci-
fied, what a baptism might have descended from
the Crucified One upon that waiting pastor and
people. But ho had not done any such thing.
Ah ! now you think him a hypocrite, a wolf in
sheep's clothing — worse than that, in shep-
herd's clothing. You are ready to shake your
heads and cry, "A minister of all persons to
be playing the hypocrite. I thought he was
some such person all the while." And you sigh
and look solemn, and some of you away down
in your secret hearts are actually pleased to
discover that Satan has secured so prominent a
victim. Bless \Tou, he was nothing of the sort ;
he was only like ever so many of you, a poor,
lame, halting Christian.

Let me tell you in a few words what manner
of man he was. If he had manufactured a text
out of his heart to express an inmost truth, and
preached a truthful sermon that morning, the
text would have been, "For I determined not
to know anything among you save myself, first,
last, and always." Not that he realized this
truth. Oh, no. If he had, he would have
been startled, shocked, and saved. If ho had
but known that he had lifted up his own exag-
gerated shadow between the cross and himself,
and was worshiping that, he would have at once

WISE AXD OTHERWISE. 21

set about tearing it clown. Ho was sincere.
lie thought he meant every word of that elab-
orately prepared sermon that he read to his
people in impressive tones. lie would not
have written a word of it had he imagined it to
be false. He would not have prayed over it,
as he did that very morning, had he not believed
that it was the utterance of his heart ; but he
did not realize that while he wrote, instead of
thrilling to his very finger-tips with the solem-
nity of the sentence written, he felt in his heart
that that last was a very telling way of putting
it. And he did not seem to know that while
he prayed for the baptism of the Holy Spirit,
his brain was busy conning over some of the
phrases of that sermon which were especially
important. Mr. Tresevant was not a disgust-
ingly bombastic man. If he had been, I think
he had so much sense that he would have dis-
gusted himself, and so been saved. He was
simply a man with a proud heart — a man hav-
ing one of those natures seemingly contradic-
tory, desirous of pleasing, nervously sensitive
on the subject — so sensitive that he wTas some-
times willing to yield just a shade of right for
the sake of pleasing — yet so nervously con-
scious of his own identity that he was never
willing to yield an expressed opinion, even
though he regretted in the next five minutes

22 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

that any opinion had been expressed. You will
sec, as yon come to know him better, how
strangely this central idea of his crept in every-
where, twisting, and warping, and marring his
life.

As the congregation passed down the aisle,
after the service was concluded, Mrs. Sayles
passed Dr. Douglass, standing quite near the
door, with a thoughtful, almost troubled, look
on his face.

w What do you think? * he asked her sudden-
ly, and with a touch of almost anxiety in his
voice.

"Tor I determined not to know anything
save Jesus Christ, and him crucified, '" she an-
swered, smiling. "That is what I think — that
is what I am determined on reaching after.''

His face cleared instantly.

"Thank you," he said, heartily. "We can
try for that ; it had not touched me in that w*y.
Thank you."

CHAPTER IIL

" Professing themselves to bo wise, they became fools."

Doctor Douglass stirred his tea mechan-
ically, broke his muffin into bits, but ate noth-
ing, said nothing, only looked sadly perplexed
and disturbed. His wife waited in inquiring
silence for several minutes, then asked, —

"What is it, doctor? Anything new? How
did you leave poor little Freddy?"

"No better."

"They sent here and over to Frank's for Mr.
Trescvant. Do you know whether they found
him?"

"/found him."

"Where Has he been over there? They
seemed very anxious ! " Mrs. Douglass always
asked at least two questions at once, realizing,
perhaps, how pressed her husband was for time.

"No, he has not been there. I found him in
the Wilcox grounds, playing croquet with Mrs.
Trescvant and the young ladies."

Silence for a moment, then Mrs. Douglass
eaid, with belligerent ah', —

24 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Well, what special barm is there in playing
croquet?"

The doctor was betrayed out of his gloom
long enough to laugh and take a bite of muffin
before he answered, —

ffI don't say a word against croquet, Julia.
Is your conscience very tender on that point?"

Mrs. Douglass responded only by a conscious
laugh, as she realized how entirely she had be-
trayed her opinions on the subject, and contin-
ued her questioning.

"Did you tell him about Freddy, and how
much they wanted to see him?"

" I did," relaxing into gloom and laconic an-
swers.

" "What did he say ? " Mrs. Douglass was en-
tirely accustomed to cross-questioning her hus-
band, and understood the process thoroughly.

" That he would go down there as soon as the
game of croquet was concluded."

The lady opposite him set down her cup that
had nearly reached her lips and looked at her
husband, while an expression of mingled doubt
and dismay spread over her face.

" Dr. Douglass ! Did you tell him the child
was dying, and that they had been in search of
him?" she asked in shocked tones.

"I explained the latter fact to him elaborate-
ly, and told him the boy was very sick, and that
I feared he might not live until morning."

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 25

For once tho ever ready tongue opposite
seemed to have not a word to utter. When
she found voice again, it was to ask, in a very
subdued way, —

"Do they know it at the house — know that
you have found him, I mean? What do they
think of it?"

"They know that I found him — and where
— for they asked me both questions. I did not
enlighten them as to his occupation, and said
what I hoped and believed was true, that I
thought he would be along very soon ; but he
had not arrived when I came away, a quarter of
an hour ago. The game must have proved a
complicated one."

Now, the question is, was Mr. Trescvant's
heart so bound up in the game of croquet that
be could not even leave it to answer a summons
from tho dying? On the contrary he cared as
little for croquet as it was possible for any mor-
tal man to care for so stupid a thing. The
difficulty came to pass, on this wise. Three
hours before this tea-table talk, Mrs. Tresevant,
in a ravishing sea-green silk, sat doubled up in
an ill-humored heap among the sofa pillows,
while her exasperating husband walked the floor
with his hands in his pockets, a thing which hus-
bands generally proceed to doing when they
wish to be especially tormenting. He talked to
the little roll of silk after this fashion :

26 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"I am more than doubtful as to the propriety
of joining this croquet party."

The small wife twitched her skein of green
worsted into a hopeless snarl, and auswered,
petulantly, —

"Has croquet become a mortal sin? Dear
me ! I don't know what is to become of com-
mon humanity. There is positively nothing left
that isn't wicked to do."

"I didn't say croquet was wicked, Laura;
don't be so childish."

"What is the matter with it then? I'm sure
you said \*ou were doubtful as to its propriety.
Carroll, I am absolutely sick of that word. I
don't wonder that so many clergymen lose their
wives early — they die of- propriety. What
possible objection to croquet can you find?"

"I don't object to it; it is a good enough
game, I suppose. But there arc people who
don't think so. There is on old man down
town, a member of my church, too, who thinks
it is only another way of playing billiards ; and
there are doubtless others, just as stupid, who
wouldn't like to see their pastor engaged in any
such frivolous way. So, for the sake of that
class <of people, I doubt the wisdom of joining
you."

The blue-brown eyes on the sofa — so soft
and child-like they were, that once Mr. Trese

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 27

vant thought the owner of them could be led by
a word — looked up tit him now enlarged to their
full extent, and her voice took on a tinge of res-
ignation.

"Oh, well; if you are to bo governed by
every old man who chances to think some ab-
surd and ignorant thing, of course that is the
end of all freedom and comfort ; only I did
think that even clergymen had a right to decide
for themselves in some matters."

"I am governed by no one, Laura," said this
self-besieged clergyman, chafing under the idea
that he was in leading strings. tf I choose to
decide all questions for myself, without the in-
terference of any one ; only, of course, there
are questions of expediency to be considered,
and I may not choose to place myself in an un-
pleasant light before any of my people."

Ho continued his walk up and down the room
with a very perturbed face. Anything but to
have it hi-ntcd that he, of all men, was not mas-
ter of his own actions. And there sat that tiny
woman, very wise in her generation, and pres-
ently let fly the arrow that she knew would hit
him at his most vulnerable point, w

frI think it must be that Mrs. Sayles has en-
lightened you as to her views on this subject.
She has views about it, of course. She has
about every earthly thing that can be imagined,

28 WISE AXD OTHERWISE.

and she evidently intends that you shall be led
like a dutiful subject in the way she would have
you go. You used to play croquet with Einmc-
line and me, in Lewiston, and I never heard a
word about propriety and expediency before;
so it is evident she has been giving 3*ou direc-
tions on the subject."

Mr. Tresevant paused in front of his wife, and
his voice was actually harsh.

"Laura ! how can you be so absurd. What
jJossible connection can Mrs. Saylcs's notions on
any subject whatever and my actions have with
each other?"

"A great deal," shutting her red lips to-
gether with an emphasis that made them thin
and unpretty. "I tell you she means that you
shall do as she says and thinks, like a good boy,
as she imagines you to be. As for having
views of your own, she never dreams of such
a thing."

"That is too ridiculous to listen to," an-
swered the irate clergyman, turning testily
away and recommencing his walk, the little
wife meantime subsiding into silence and quietly
awaiting re" Its.

Some minutes of steady walking, accompan-
ied by furtive glances from the blue-brown eyes
on the sofa. Then he halted before her again,
this time speaking kindly, —

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 29

"Laura, I did not know that your heart was
bo set on this frolic. It is a matter of very
small importance anyway. Of course we will
g( if you really wish it."

Then the waves of green silk shook them-
selves triumphantly from the sofa pillows, and
Mrs. Tresevant's low, sweet voice said, —

"Oh, thank you, Carroll ! I do want to go ;
it will seem so much like home."

Thus it was that the clergyman, being hunted
for at every probable place, was finally espied
by Dr. Douglass, as he came hurriedly down
Chester Street, in the Wilcox grounds, with the
croquet party. Miss Charlotte^ Wilcox gave a
pretended scream as she saw him coming.

"O Mr. Tresevant ! where can we hide you?
There comes Dr. Douglass, and he will never
recover from his horror if he sees you here."

"Why?" laughed Mrs. Tresevant. "Does
he think croquet is wicked?"

" I guess so. I never heard him mention that
in particular ; but he thinks almost everything
is."

And at this point Dr. Douglass Mimmoned his
pastor to the gate. The game was suspei
and the players gave attention to the conversa-
tion at the gate, which was by no means low
toned.

w That little Freddy Conklin," explained Miss

30 WISE ANL> OTHERWISE.

Charlotte in undertone; "he has been sick for
months, unci every little while they get dread-
fully alarmed about him, and think he is going
to die right away."

The tone was not so low but that it reached
Mr. Trcsevant's car.

" The boy is no worse than he has been be-
fore, I presume?" he said inquiringly, to the
doctor.

"I cannot speak positively of course," Dr.
Douglass answered, somewhat stifrhy. "The
disease is peculiar, but he seems to be very near
death. I do not think he will live until morn-
ing."

" Oh, dear," sighed Miss Charlotte, " it is all
a ruse, I believe, to get your husband out of
our wicked hands. Mrs. Tresevant, I do wish
you would coax him to stay until I can beat him
just once ; I've almost done it."

Again the clear, shrill tones penetrated to Mr.
Trcsevant's car; and the man who was just
.opening his mouth to say, "I will come with
you at once," checked himself, took in, angrily,
the thought ihat Dr. Douglass was trying to
manage. him, decided that he would not be
managed — no, not by anybody — and finally
said with an assumption of utter nonchalance,—

"Very well, doctor, I will be around there in
the course of the afternoon. It will not do to

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 81

desert the ladies just now ; they might imagine
themselves victors in the game."

Then the doctor, who was given to showing
just a little too much feeling on such occasions,
turned away haughtily, without another word ;
and the minister returned to his croquet with a
very troubled spirit, and wished in his heart that
ever}' exasperating little yellow and green and
red ball was split up for kindliug wood. He
played badly, his mind, meantime, being occu-
pied with two questions : first, was the boy
really so very ill, or was this one of the many
false alarms that had come from the anxious
parents? True, the doctor had said that he
might not live till morning. Well, of course
he might not ; they might none of them. Could
it be that the doctor, not liking his position and
occupation, had contrived a plan to get him
away from there ? And over this thought his
pale cheek flushed, and he struck the red ball
fiercely, muttering to himself that if he really
thought that, he would play croquet until mid-
night, much as he hated it. The consequence
of all this was, that it was an hour after Dr.
Douglass had finished his supper, and was com-
ing down stairs from the sick boy's room, that
he met his pastor going up.

"How is he now?" Mr. Tresevant asked, with
an attempt at cheer in ess.

32 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Beyond your care or mine," the doctor an-
swered, with grave, stern face.

" Not dead ! "

"Yes, sir; he died half an hour ago," and
Dr. Douglass moved swiftly on.

"I was never so shocked in my life," Mr.
Tresevant explained at the Sayles' tea-table a
few minutes later. "I did not dream of the
boyrs condition being so critical. There have
been so many reports, }'ou know, of his being
about to die, I thought it was another of his
sinking turns. I am very much grieved."

"After all, you couldn't have saved the poor
child's life if you had been there," his sympa-
thizing wife said, by way of consolation, nib-
bling a biscuit as she spoke.

"What do they say of Mr. Tresevant's non-
appearance?" Mrs. Sayles asked this question
of Dr. Douglass an hour later, as he stood in
the doorway, hat in hand, having made some
arrangements with Mrs. Sayles, that had to do
with the comfort of the afflicted family.

" They are very much hurt, of course. They
cannot be blamed for that."

"Did you make any explanation, doctor?"

Dr. Douglass turned around and gave her a
full view of his stern gray eyes, as he asked, in
a stern voice, —

"What explanation was there to make, Abbie?

WISE AND OTHERWISE. , 33

Their pastor was playing croquet, and did not
choose to come until he finished his game, and
the boy was too near heaven to wait until that
momentous business was concluded. Now, that
is the simple truth. I saw nothing to explain."

Only a few minutes after that Mrs. Sayles
went quietly down the street and stood pres-
ently in the chamber of death. Very few
words she had to offer, yet her tender sympathy
seemed to enter into and soften the bleeding
hearts. It was when she was turning to leave
the room that she said, simply and gently, —

"I am sorry for Mr. Tresevant."

The blood rolled in rich waves over the
stricken mother's face, and she quickly an-
swered,—

"Don't mention his name to me. I don't
want to hear it."

Neither by word or look did the softly-spoken
little woman notice this remark, but continued
her words very gently.

"He feels it very deeply, as of course he
would. He hadn't an idea of the serious nature
of the disease. He said he had never in hi3
life been so shocked and grieved."

"But we sent for him," the mother said
coldly, with averted eyes ; " sent twice for him,
<md he was at Wilcox's playing croquet. Charlie
3

34 WISE AXD OTHERWISE.

saw him when he went for Dr. Douglass. He
could have come if he had cared to."

"I know; but you see he didn't understand.
I think he took it as an intimation that you
would like to see him some time during the
day. He certainly did not take in the serious
nature of the call."

This time the mother sobbed out her reply,
amid burning tears, —

"But Freddy wanted to see him again. He
loved his pastor, and mourned so because he did
not come ; and we had to see him die with his
wish ungratified."

"Yes," very gently, "and Mr. Tresevant
loved him. He has often spoken of him. And
Freddy is very happy now — has no wish un-
gratified ; but his pastor carries a very heavy
heart. I am sorry for him."

No more words about that. They went out
together to the sitting-roora, and Mrs. Sayles
moved about for a little very quietly and help-
fully, until, just as she was about to leave them,
she asked, quietly, —

"Have you any direction or message that
you would like me to give to Mr. Tresevant?"

The bowed head of the father was lifted, and
he made stern answer, —

" We have no further message of any kind

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 35

for bim. He has no time to attend to us. I
shall call on Dr. Steele in the morning."

His wife turned toward him hastily.

" O father, no ; I wouldn't. Let us have our
own pastor with us."

"But I thought," he said, in grave surprise,
"I thought you said you wanted it so."

"Well, I did; but I was hasty, I think.
Don't let us do anything that looks bitter.
There is some mistake about it. He would
have come if he had understood ; and Freddy
loved him, you know."

Oh, rare and precious oil poured on the trou-
bled waters ! If only the world, nay, rather,
the Christian Church, had a few more such char-
acters, seeking ever to throw the mantle of ten-
der charity over faults and mistakes, soothing
into littleness and quiet the minor ills of life,
instead of talking them over, and ripping them
apart, until they grow into gaping wounds —
how much could be accomplished for the cause
of the Master, how much "bitterness, and wrath,
and anger, and clamor, and evil-speaking," would
be " put away."

CHAPTER IV.

" Neither make, thyself overwise. Why shouldest thou de»
troy thyself?"

" Ake the societies well attended and inter-
esting?"

This question Mr. Tresevant asked of his
hostess at the dinner table.

"Y — e — s," she answered, drawing out the
monosyllable to unusual length, and hesitating
much. "They are pretty well attended — that
is, a good many go. But there are many who
do not attend, and I think will not be per-
suaded to under the present circumstances. "

" And what are * present circumstances,' if you
will enlighten me?"

Mr. Sayles glanced down at his wife with an
amused laugh.

"You'll mount her on one of her hobbies if
you insist upon an answer to that question," he
6aid, roguishly.

"Ah, now, Jerome, is that quite fair? I
don't think I make exactly a hobby of it, though
I do feel deeply about it. I can state the case

M

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 37

very briefly, Mr. Tresevant. We have too
much flounce and finery, generally, in our sew-
ing society. The custom prevails of going suf-
ficiently dressed for a fashionable tea-party ;
and the consequence is, that a large number of
ladies whose circumstances will not admit of
anything very elaborate, are shut out from at-
tending, or feel that they are."

"Why, Mrs. Sayies ! do you have by-laws
requiring just so many flounces and ribbons,
and the like?"

It was Mrs* Tresevant's innocent, child-like
voice that asked this question — a voice in which
there was constantly an undertone of not very
amiable sarcasm.

Mrs. Sayies answered her quietly.

"Xot quite that ; and yet the persistency with
which some of our ladies carry out their fancy
dress designs might lead one to imagine that
there was some penalty involved."

Mrs. Tresevant chose to make her next query
less sharp.

"But don't you think it is false pride that
keeps people away from places, because they are
not able to dress as well as others?"

"Doubtless it is," Mrs. Sayies answered,
meekly. "But the trouble is, people will per-
sist in having false pride ; and the question that
puzzles me is, Shall we Christians do our best

38 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

to foster it, or give it as little chance for growth
as possible ? "

Mrs. Tresevant flounced herself into her room
ten minutes afterward, in a very unamiable frame
of mind.

"Are you aware, Mr. Tresevant," she said,
hotly, "that the lecture on dress, to which we
have had the pleasure of listening, was delivered
for my special benefit?"

" Nonsense ! " answered that gentleman, com-
posedly betaking himself to an easy chair and
the daily paper.

"It isn't nonsense at all. She is perpetually
dictating to me what I shall wear and how I shall
act."

Mr. Tresevant lowered his paper and looked
at his wife, the ever-ready flush rising slowly on
his cheeks.

" Dictating to you ! "

"Well, not in so many words, perhaps; but
continually throwing out hints for me to prac-
tice on."

"Oh, as to that, she has a right to her own
opinions, of course."

"Nobody wishes to hinder her from enjoying
them. But the question is, Haven't I a right to
mine?"

" Certainly you have. Dress exactly as you
please, without regard to her or any one else."

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 39

Now, be it known that this matter of simplic-
ity in dress was one of Mr. Tresevant's own par-
ticular hobbies, and he sometimes rode it in such
a manner as to drive his dress-loving wife to the
very verge of distraction. His ideal was white,
of course. What gentlemau's isn't? And it
must be admitted that he showed as little sense
in regard to season and occasion as most of
them do. Still, his tastes and his ideas of Chris-
tian propriety were decidedly in favor of quiet
simplicity. Which thing his small, wise wife
thoroughly comprehended, and, comprehending
him quite as thoroughly in some other respects,
played her game accordingly.

She knew perfectly well that to give advice
himself as to her attire, and to seem to be fol-
lowing the hints of a third person, were, in his
estimation, decidedly different matters. Conse-
quently, she made her toilet in peace.

Behold her, then, some two hours later, a pat-
tern of simplicity and propriety, arrayed in a
fawn-colored silk, with an overdress of White
muslin, immaculate in whiteness and fluted ruf-
fles, and finished at the throat with puffings of
real lace, seated in Mrs. Wilcox's back parlor,
the cynosure of all eyes. Meek little Mrs.
Sayles, in her buff muslin, stood no chance at all
beside her pastor's wife. There was a height-
ened color in that little lady's face. She had,

40 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

on that particular afternoon, prevailed upon
Mrs. John Carter to accompany her to the so-
ciety.

Now Mrs. John Carter's best dress was a very
neatly made blue and white cambric, and very
neat and pretty she looked ; but, seated on the
sofa beside Mrs. Tresevant, nearly submerged
by that lady's flounces and ruffles, she looked
embarrassed and uncomfortable, and Mrs. Sayles
greatly feared that this would be her last at-
tempt to mingle in the society of the Regent
Street Church.

There was a group of eager talkers over by the
bay window. When Mrs. Sayles joined them,
late in the afternoon, they greeted her with £
chorus of voices.

"O Mrs. Sayles, we have an excellent plan
for raising the rest of that money and having a
social gathering at the same time. An old
folks' supper — a new idea, you see. Did you
ever hear of it before? Mrs. Ames says when
she was East they had one in their society, and
it was a perfect success."

"An old folks' supper !" repeated Mrs. Sayles
in perplexity. "What does that mean? Do
old folks have such very different suppers from
young ones ? "

" Indeed they do, or did — the old folks about
whom we are talking. Tell her about that one
in your church, Mrs. Ames."

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 41

"Why, you know," began that lady, prefac-
ing her remarks with the favorite American
blunder "you know;" and immediately pro-
ceeding to explain what she believes her hearer
to know nothing about. "You know, they have
pumpkin pies, and Indian puddings, and apple
sauce, and baked beans, and all those old-fash-
ioned dishes that were so important years ago.
Then you have characters dressed to represent
the olden time. We had George and Martha
Washington, and Lafayette, and, oh, quantities
of others. They had to sustain their characters,
too, not only by their dress, but by their con-
versation. It was really quite interesting."
"And you propose to get one up here?"
"Yes, we have it all planned. We can get
ready in two or three weeks. The costume^
will take very little time, so many people have
old-fashioned things that belonged to their
grandmothers among their treasures. Mrs
Ames says they charged a dollar a couple for
supper ; and such a supper as we could get up
out of the old-fashioned dishes would be worth
a dollar just to look at. Mrs. Tynclall says she
will help about the costumes, and Mrs. Doug-
lass will select the boys and girls and assign
them their parts. Then Mrs. Sullivan proposes
that we have some old-fashioned songs, which I
think will be an excellent addition. We can get

42 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

up some splendid singing here — Charlie "Wilcox
will take that in hand, I know. Now, Mrs.
Sayles, what do you think of it?"

" You seem to have your arrangements almost
perfected," answered Mrs. Sayles, if that re-
mark could be called an answer to the question
asked.

"We have," said Mrs. Tyndall. "I have even
selected the character that I am going to per-
sonate. I have always had a passion for dis-
tinction, and I am going to be that famous
personage, 'Old Mother Hubbard, who went to
the cupboard.' Only in this instance I expect
you to see to it that the cupboard is not bare."

11 We have been very busy since the idea was
suggested to us," explained Mrs. Douglass,
"and everybody to whom we have spoken seems
to like the idea, and be ready to join us very
heartily. I think, rcryself, perhaps it is as in-
nocent and unobjectionable a way as any of af-
fording our young people amusement. Abbie,
you haven't told us what you thought of the plan
yet ! "

"Oh, I like it; at least I think I do. I
haven't given it very mature deliberation as
yet. But what does Mr. Tresevant say about
it?"

A sudden silence ensued. The ladies looked
wonderingly at each other, and at last Mrs.
Williams explained,—

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 43

" We haven't said anything to him about it."

n He is here, you know ; has been here for an
hour. Wouldn't it be well to consult him be-
fore anything further is said? Meantime, Mrs.
Trescvant labs in with the plan, does she?"

Mrs. Williams laughed.

"It hasn't been mentioned to her, either.*'

"Why !" ejaculated Mrs. Sayles, amazement
and disapproval in her voice.

"It icas a strange oversight," Mrs. Williams
said. "But we were in such a gale, talking
about it, that we never thought of consulting
only those who happened this way. Some of
you go and talk to Mr. Tresevant right away.
Mrs. Tyndall, you will, won't you?"

"What's the use ?" interrupted Miss Charlotte
Wilcox. "Mr. Tresevant doesn't have to get
up a festival or have anything to do with it —
only to have a complimentary ticket sent him,
and come, to grace the occasion. Why should
we consult him?"

"Oh, of course we ought," Mrs. Williams
said. "It was in very bad taste not to have
done it before."

Miss Wilcox reiterated that she could not see
it in that light. Mr. Tresevant had nothing to
do with it.

"Don't you think," questioned Mrs. Sayles,
gently, " that the pastor of a church has to do

44 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

with everything connected with that church,
whatever it may be?"

"But an innocent matter like that — what ob-
jection could he possibly have?"

"Probably none," Mrs. Sayles said. "More
than likely, he would be pleased, and enter into
it heartily. The question was not of objections,
but of common courtesy."

"Of course," Mrs. Williams said, again.
"We are simply wasting time. We jnst didn't
think of it, and that is all there is about it.
Mrs. Tyndall, will you go and talk to him?"

And Mrs. T}7ndall went, but she went too late.
Mr. Tresevant had been in the house for an
hour, and during that time, turn which way he
would, had heard nothing talked about but the
"old folks' supper." The younger portion of
the society were in a state of gleeful excitement
over the wThole thing ; had discussed it as one
of the settled questions of the day ; had ap-
pealed to him right and left as historic au-
thority in the matter of costume or custom ;
and he, meantime, was nursing himself into a
very unpleasant indignation. A church festival
planned, arranged, all but executed, and he, the
pastor of the church, learning of it by chance
from the chatter of a group of girls !

We have no special excuse to offer for tho
ladies of Newton. They had, undoubte^V

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 45

been guilty of a breach of common politeness.
The difference between their experience and that
of many another company of heedless workers
is, that many a pastor, seeing these things, feel-
ing them keenly, feeling that his position is be-
ing injured, that his influence is being under-
mined by these very trifles, yet, for the sake of
the cause, meekly endures, enters with smiling
face and what heartiness he can assume into the
work that has been all but done without so much
as a hint as to whether he considers it wise or
otherwise. Not such a man was Mr. Tresevant.
The church had no business to plan anything
pertaining to the prosperity or interest of the
church without consulting him, and he knew it.
So does many another know it, and yet, it being
not absolutely wrong, does what he can do to
aid it. Not so did Mr. Tresevant. His brow
had been growing darker with every added sen-
tence about the festival. Not that he disap-
proved of festivals, as many an earnest minister
does, who yet endures them, with much inward
groaning and earnest looking forward to better
days, when the money will be given heartily,
"as unto the Lord," without the necessity of
returning equivalents in the shape of oysters,
and cakes, and endless mats, and tidies, and
ponderous pin-cushions.

Mr. Tresevant had not been called to think

46 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

seriously on this subject, and had no strong con-
victions to overcome ; he had merely his own
important self in the way, and he found that a
subject sufficiently large to fill his thoughts.
Therefore Mrs. Tyndall found him in anything
but a genial mood. He had nursed his wrath
and his sense of personal insult until he had
swelled it into a mountain. In vain she pre-
sented the merits of the case, the desire of the
young people of the church to have a social
gathering of some sort. If, for any reason, he
didn't approve of this, would he be kind enough
to suggest something in its place, or was there
anything connected with their present plans that
they could leave out, and so secure his approv-
al? Frank Hooper would hardly have been
recognized in this earnest, courteous, respect-
ful lady. She might as well have talked to the
bust of Byron that stood just behind her, for all
impression that she seemed to make. Mr.
Tresevant was utterly unapproachable. He had
no objections to offer, no explanation to make,
nothing to suggest. He simply did not approve
of this thing, and trusted that it would at once
be dropped.

CHAPTER V.

"TLe tongue of the wise useth knowledge aright."

Dire was the dismay, many and varied the
exclamations, with which the report of Mrs.
Tyndall's mission was greeted.

"How perfectly hateful," said Miss Charlotte
Wilco::, biting off her thread with energy.

"Just exactly what I expected ! " burst from
Mrs. Hewes, in o-reat indignation.

In justice to Mr. Tresevant, be it said that
Mrs. Hewes represented that class of people
who expect just exactly what has taken place,
and are therefore never taken by surprise. She
didn't state what were her reasons for being in
this condition of expectation. That class of
people never do.

^"But what in the name of common sense is
the reason of his disapproval?" was Mrs. Wil-
liams' earnest question.

Mrs. Williams was one of the most earnest
little women in the society, and spoke, as she
worked, with energy.

48 WISE 4JSD OTHERWISE.

"He didn't inform me," Mrs. Tyndall an-
swered, dryly, going on with her hemming
with commendable industry.

"Then I should hare asked him," sputtered
Miss Charlotte. "I don't believe in being
treated like a company of babies. He can, at
least, tell us why he disapproves."

Mrs. Douglass here found voice for the first
time :

"Frank, did you tell him that there were no
riug cakes, or grab bags, or any of the belong-
ings of gambling saloons, to be connected with
it?"

" Xe, I didn't, I thought he would take that
for granted."

" He might not. It is not so many ages since
we indulged in that sort of thing, or tried to.
Don't you remember the trials that Dr. Mulford
was called upon to endure in that liue?"

"That may be just the trouble," Mrs. Wil-
liams said, with a lighting up of her disturbed
face. "Somebody might go and explain that
we are to be as proper as an army of deacons.
Mrs. Tyndall, will you try it again? It seems
a pity to drop the whole thing, for nobod
knows what, when we have it so nicely ai
ranged."

A peculiar flash of Mrs. Tyndall's bright ey<
reminded Mrs. Douglass very forcibly of Frai:
Hooper. She answered, promptly, —

WISE AND OTHEKWISE. 49

"Excuse me, Mrs. Williams, I've served my
time, and my eloquence proved so unavailing
that I'm utterly cast down. Try some one else."

Then they all with one accord pounced upon
Mrs. Sayles. She was just the person — Mr.
Tresevant boarded with her — she was better
acquainted with him than any of them. Mrs.
Sayles earnestly protested, "He hears and sees
so much of me, ladies. I am obliged to ex-
plain all your faults and failings to him, you
know. I am certain he must be heartily tired
of my tongue," — and Mrs. Douglass arose hur-
riedly, and announced her willingness to under-
take the mission, for the sake of giving them a
change of subject. She came back very soon,
a heightened color in her cheeks, and with less
to say for herself than Mrs. Tyndall had.

"Is it all riffht?" — " Was that the trouble?"
— "Have you made the way smooth?" were
the questions that three eager ladies asked at
one and the same moment.

"No ; on the contrary, it is all wrong. That
13 not the trouble ; and I'm sure I don't know
what is — only we must give the matter ifp."

"That's always the way !" Mrs. Hewes com-
plained, though, in truth, it had never been the
way before. "Get all ready to do a thing, and
then have to give it up, just for somebody's no-
tion, /wouldn't do any such thing."
4

50 WISE A2sD OTHERWISE.

* Neither would I," Miss Charlotte said, in
great indignation. "It is too absurd to be
treated in this way/'

The group of ladies had increased from time
to time, and now comprised several of the effi-
cient workers of the church, all in various stages
of indignation. They all talked at once, as
ladies will do when they are interested, and
thereby prove their remarkable fitness for pub-
lic life. It was rather difficult to tell what any-
body said, by reason of the clamor of tongues.
Mrs. Tyndall was occupied in making serio-
comic remarks at the very persons by whom she
was surrounded, but they were too much excited
to stop for laughter. Mrs. Douglass contented
herself with very brief sentences, thrown in here
and there when she was personally appealed to.
Only Mrs. Sayies sat in absolute silence, with
the trouble in her eyes deepening every moment.
Mrs. Roberts, one of the late arrivals, finally
sent a loaded shell into their midst :

"Let's go right straight on with our prepara-
tions, and carry the thing through. "We are
not obliged to pin ourselves to his notions."

"I say so, too," chimed in Miss Wilcox.
"He needn't be so ridiculous/'

"There is nothing to find fault with, I'm
sure," Mrs. Williams said, inclining strongly tv
the popular side.

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 51

Then Mrs. Sayles lifted up her gentle voice :

"Of coarse, ladies, you are not in earnest,
else there would speedily be something to find
fault with in our own conduct."

"I never was more in earnest in my life,"
Mrs. Roberts declared, with spirit. "I don't
see why Mr. Tresevant should have control
over us. That would be sufficient if we were
Catholics and he the priest."

"I think as much," said Miss Charlotte.

"I trust we aU have control over our own
hearts, and have too much respect for our
church and our pastor to be willing to do any-
thing in deliberate opposition to his expressed
opinion." Mrs. Sayles' voice was so low and
gentle, that it reminded one of a soft, quiet
shower in the midst of an August heat.

" I'm sure I think as much of our church and
our pastor as anybody can," Mrs. Williams said,
just a trifle subdued ; "but I declare I think he
might give us one reason for upsetting our plans
in this fashion."

"I believe in following our own conscience,
and not pinning ourselves to any man." Mrs.
Roberts delivered herself of this relevant sen-
tence with great dignity, and it served as fuel.
The flames began to leap up high.

"Liberty of conscience is the subject under
debate," said Mrs. Tyndall, with a vary grave

52 WTSE AND OTHERWISE.

face. " Our conscience insists upon having an
old folks' supper, and will be appeased vnth
nothing else, even if we have to sacrifice our
pastor and our tempers to secure it." Where-
upon several of the ladies stopped to laugh ; but
Mrs. Hewes fluttered into the lull.

"If you begin that way you may expect to go
on so. Never do anything that }^ou want to."

"Mrs. Sayies," said Mrs. Williams, desper-
ately, "do you think we ought to give it all
up?"

Mrs. Sayies laughed pleasantly.

"I do not think there is a question in the
minds of any of us as to that, when we give
ourselves a chance to think quietly," she said
gently. " Have we really not confidence enough
in the man whom we, as a church, have called to
be our shepherd, to believe that he has good
and sufficient reasons for differing from us?
Must we demand of him those reasons before we
can trust him, and do we really expect him to
treat us as an injudiciou3 mother does her faith-
less children, and explain evevy thing, before we
will condescend to take any notice of his views?"

It was a somewhat lengthy speech, especially
for the low-voiced little woman, and Her cheens
were brightly flushed when she paused.

" But our conscience is in the way, I tell you,"
persisted Mrs. Tyndall ; "and if that insists

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 53

upon an old folks' supper, and will be appeased
with nothing else, shall we trample on our con-*
sciences?"

This time even Mrs. Roberts laughed a little,
and Mrs. Williams said quickly, —

"Of course we wouldn't be so rude as to go
on with it, since he really does object ; but it
seems a little bit provoking."

"But what shall we do?" asked Susie Rob-
erts, ruefully. She was to have represented a
fair maiden of the days of 76, and had her cos-
tume all imagined.

Mrs. Sayles answered her, brightly, —

"That is a solemn question, Susie. Since
an old folks' supper is not to be had, what else
is there worth living for?"

The flames lulled, but there was much unnat-
ural heat left, and many low-murmured disap-
provals and uncomfortable words. Mrs. Sayles
laid aside her sewing presently, and moved
quietly and unobtrusively about among the
wounded, who scattered in different directions
to calm down as best they might. She was a
general favorite, and no circle so small but
opened to let her in. She had not much to say,
only a softly dropped word here and there about
the many petty trials and annoyances that a
minister had, of which his people knew nothing ;
of how carefully he had, probably, thought about

54 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

all these things ; of how wide his experience had
been ; of how careful he felt it necessary to be
over what seemed trifles. To Fanny Colman,
the chief soprano singer, she simply said that
Mr. Tresevant thought that opening anthem last
Sabbath morning was very beautiful, just suited
to her voice.

In short, there wasn't a little knot of ladies
gathered again during that evening that the small
woman did not contrive to be in their midst for
a few minutes and drop her little drops of balm.
She did not come in contact with Mr. Trese-
vant. He stood aloof, and eyed her solemnly
and suspiciously. It was true, he had been tried
much in various ways that day, and the trials all
pressed about him like a swarm of bees, and he
nursed and fed them into vigor. Up stairs in
the dressing room Mrs. Sayles came in contact
with Mrs. Douglass for a minute, and said, as
they stood alone together, —

R What naughty spirit took possession of you,
Julia, that you didn't help us at all?"

"I'm not a saint," snapped Mrs. Douglass,
very much in the tone that she used sometimes
to assume toward Dr. Douglass in the days when
she was Julia Ried, book-keeper in Mr Sayles*
factory. "How do you suppose he answered
me when I humbly begged to know whether it
was a question of fashionable gambling that af-

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 55

fected his decision toward the festival? — fI beg,
Mrs. Douglass, that I may hear no more about
that affair. The subject is quite exhausted, I
think ; and I have expressed my views definitely
and decisively.' Courteous, wasn't it?"

"How did you answer him?"

"With the meekest of bows, and absolute si-
lence."

Mrs. Sayles turned a pair of bright eyes on
her cousin, and spoke earnestly, —

"Julia, it was very good and thoughtful in
you not to repeat this conversation, when you
had such provocation."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Douglass, in mock
humility. " I'll tell the doctor that you think I
am improving ; it will cheer his heart wonder-
fully." Then, in a tone grown suddenly grave,
" Abbie, what do you suppose is the trouble with
Mr. Tresevant?"

Thus petitioned, Mrs. Sayles stood on tip-toe
to reach her cousin's cheek, and, as she touched
it, said softly, —

" If I do not tell you what I think we shall
not feel the necessity of talking it over to-
gether; and, after all, it would only be suppo-
sition, you know."

"Bo ye as wise as serpents,'" quoted Mrs.
Douglass, laughing. "I just begin to under-
stand that injunction. You and tho d •< -for nre

56 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

living epistles on that subject." Then very
earnestly, "You are right, too. I wish we were
all more like you. It is an exceedingly small
matter to get up a church quarrel over. I'll be
as wise as two serpents, see if I am not."
* ******

"It was an exceedingly impudent proceed-
ing," Mr. Tresevant told his wife, as he walked
the floor of their own room, still in a disturbed
state of mind. "I have never been treated in
that manner before. The idea of their all but
getting up a church festival without having once
consulted their pastor. I am quite certain that
Mrs. Sayles was the prime mover in the entire
affair ; but I think I taught her a lesson to-day.
She takes altogether too much on herself."

In her dressing-room, her loose blue wrapper
folded about her, her fair hair pushed away from
her temples, sat Mrs. Sayles, her open Bible on
the lisrht stand before her. She was not read-
ing, only looking at the page and musing, a
touch of sadness on her pale, quiet face. Her
husband presently ceased his moving about the
room, came up beside her, and, gathering one
shall hand within his own, made her fingsr
point to one verse on the page, " Blessed are the
peacemakers : for they shall be called the chil-
dren of God." She looked up quickly.

"O Jerome, did you see — did vou hear, this

WISE A1STD OTHERWISE. 57

"I both saw and heard, and I thanked God
with all my heart that there had been given to
me such a wise, and patient, and careful little
wife."

"Ah, but you are mistaken. I did nothing
at all. Only just expressed my opinion as the
rest did. But it is all so sad. Does the church
of Christ here in Newton really rest upon quick-
sand, that so small and unimportant a matter
can occasion such an excitement, and be the
means of so many bitter words?"

"As to that," her husband said gravely, "I
fear there are people here in Newton, as else-
where, who place self first, the church next,
and Christ last."

CHAPTER VI.

" The heart of the wise teacheth his month."

"What a flutter of satisfaction you are in,"
Mr. Saylcs said, looking at bis wife with an
amused face. "I hope she is half as nice as
you think her to be."

Before that lady could indignantly protest,
Mr. Tresevant asked a question, —

"I have been wondering, Mrs. Sayles, if a
fortune had been left you, to bring such a shine
to your eyes. Is it a gold mine, or a new dis-
covery of diamonds ? "

"It is diamonds, and pearls, and gold, and
everything else that is bright and precious, in
the shape of a very dear friend whom I have
not seen in years, and who is coming to me to-
morrow."

"Friends are disappointing creatures," Mr.
Tresevant answered, a touch of gravity in his
voice. " If you have not seen this one in years.
I advise you not to build your hopes too high

#

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 59

Nevertheless, Mrs. Sayles went about during
the rest of that day with very shining eyes, and
very happy, expectant face, which was not
shaded in the least when on the morrow she had
been sitting for half an hour close beside her
friend, and was now with her in her dressing-
room, waiting while the rich masses of brown
hair were being smoothed and braided into
6hape.

"I wTrote you, you remember, that our cler-
gyman and his wife boarded with us. Their
room is directly opposite yours ; so you will not
be lonely, though ours is so far away. I had to
be near the nursery, you know."

"I don't know about rooming so near to a
clergyman's family," laughed the new-comer.
"I may shock their sense of propriety. I am
not remarkable for my own propriety of action,
you know. What about them ? are they young
or old, grave or gay? You have never even
told me the name. I fancy — "

There was a sudden pause. The brush that
had been moving swiftly clown the masses of
hair was checked in its progress, while the
holder leaned forward and bent an earnest gaze
on some prospect on the lawn beneath.

" What is it ? " asked her hostess, coming for-
ward. " Oh, that is our pastor under the maple
tree, and his wife is the one in blue, on the other

60 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

side of the walk. They cannot see yon, tho
vines shade the window, yon know ; but I will
draw the curtains closer."

The brush resumed its duties, and the young
lady said, in a quiet tone, —

"I know your pastor and his wife, Abbie ! "

"Do you, indeed? Where did you meet
them, and when? Are you much acquainted
with them? Why, it is strange — But no,
now I think of it, I don't believe I have hap-
pened to mention your name before them."

" I knew them in Lewiston. You remember
I spent two years there with father. This Mr.
Tresevant was my pastor during that time."

"Why, I knew he came from Lewiston, of
course ; but I never connected the name with
you before. It is strange, too, that I haven't ;
but then, you know, you scarcely wrote to me
during those two years. Then you knew him
very well?"

"Very well, indeed."

"Well, tell me, please, then, what you think
of him."

Again the brush paused in its course. This
came as a very strange question to Doll Bron-
son's ears. She had never been asked it before.
What did she think of Mr. Tresevant? Well,
what did she? — how was the question to be
answered ? What a queer world it was ! Here

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 61

was this Abbie standing beside her, the dear-
est, most intimate friend that she had in the
world ; yet how strange it would be to tell her
the truth. To say, for instance, that that man
down under the maple tree had once, not so
very long ago, asked her to be his wife ; that
she loved him, and had told him so ; hut that
a stange, and to her insurmountable, obstacle
hfY* oomed up between them ; that he had
^rowd very angry with her at last, because she
tried to smooth a bitter trial to him, none other
than the being ignored as a minister of the gos-
pel when this little "pink and white" lady down
there on the lawn had buried her first husband ;
that, after the lapse of time, she being still true
to her own heart, and looking eagerly for the
falling away of the great obstacle between them,
had been transfixed with the news that the small
lady down on the lawn had become his wife ;
that one day, not long afterward, they came,
she in rustling silk and fluttering ribbons, and
he in his professional character, and attended
her father's funeral, and that she had not seen
him since, until this glimpse of him under the
maple tree. All these thoughts passed swiftly
through her mind ; but there was nothing in
them to tell. For his sake, if not for hers, she
must be very silent over this bit of past history.
And in truth none of these things answered the

62 WISE AND OTHEEWISE.

question, What did she think of Mr. Tresevant?
It was such a queer question. It was years since
she had asked it of herself. Once, indeed, she
would have been prompt to answer, he was the
embodiment of all that was good, and grand,
and noble : but for one thing, he would have
been perfect. "Why, but for one thing, she
would have been down there, standing with
him underneath that maple tree, at this mo-
ment. What a queer world ! And then there
first rushed upon her a realizing sense of the
fact that she did not in the least desire to be
under the maple tree with him : that it was
altogether nicer and better to be Dell Bronson,
up here in this beautiful room, visiting with her
friend, and with — what an absurd thought to
come in just then ! but it came, bringing a flush
to her cheek — with a brief, friendly letter from
Mr. Nelson in her pocket. Meantime Mrs.
Sayles waited in wondering silence for her an-
swer. It came at last, slow-toned, hesitating:

f;I think — he is — a — good man."

The most, the very most, that her truth-lov-
ing lips could frame, to say. Surely enough,
and yet Mrs. Sayles drew a little bit of a sigh,
and answered, in the same slow way, —

"Yes — I think — he is."

Dell was silent, and reflected thoughtfully.
Was there more that she could have said?

"WISE AND OTHERWISE. 63

This man was her friend's pastor. She bad it
in her power, perhaps, to injure him. Had she
unwittingly done so? Was it pique, a sense
of wounded and tritled-with affection, that had
prompted her hesitancy? She smiled over this
thought, and realized fully, for the first time,
that she certainly was very grateful to him for
putting it out of her power to go and stand un-
der the maple with him, as that tiny wife was
doing. But then, what would Abbie think of
all this hesitancy? Some dreadful thing, per-
baps. There was certainly such a thing as truth
which did not necessarily include the speaking
of the whole truth. She pushed the last hair-
pin energetically into the coil of hair, and faced
round to her companion.

"Abbie, if I tell you what I really think, you
will not go to imagining that I know of a duel
that your pastor has fought, and a murder or
two that he has committed, or any such horrible
doing. I truly think that he is a good, Chris-
tian man, a very eloquent preacher, a very ear-
nest student, and that he is very much in love
with — himself. There! What dress shall I
put on in order to charm your husband? It is
very important that he should like me, as I
mean to make a long visit."

Mr. Tresevant was taken at a disadvantage.
Kb idea as to who the stranger was who was to

64 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

join the family that day had entered his niinci,
and the first intimation he had of her presence
was when a well-remembered vision of bright,
fresh beauty paused before him with a clear-
toned "How do you do, Mr. Tresevant?"

The clergyman's pale face flushed with sur-
prise and embarrassment, but Dell turned
promptly to his wife, who was voluble and
eager in her greeting, and for once was a source
of considerable relief and comfort.

"You seem to have found old friends?" Mr.
Sayles said, looking on in slight surprise, and
Dell answered, promptly, —

"To our mutual astonishment, save that I
have the advantage of these people, in that I
caught a glimpse of them on the lawn but a
short time ago."

Then they all sat down to dinner, Mr. Tres-
evant struscsrlinsr with his vexation at bavins:
betrayed special surprise or interest in this
lady, and imagining, after the manner of self-
absorbed persons, that he had been much more
demonstrative than was at all the case.

If that man could only have realized how he
was feeding his soul on himself, what a blessing
would have come to him ! As it was, every
passing day increased his self-torment. Truly
it was not a pleasant position to be seated oppo-
site a young lady with whom he had hardly ex-

WISE AND OTHERWISE. ()5

changed a dozen words since the evening on
•which he asked her to be his wife ; but if he
would have misjudged her all his life long as
he had been doing since his first acquaintance
with her, truly it was the most comfortable thing
that could have happened to either of them that
their paths so widely diverged. Not one single
act of her life with which he was familiar had
he understood, or fe.lt the force of her motive ;
and Dell Bronson was not a woman to live in a
continual state of misunderstanding with her
nearest friend, and take it meekly. He had
actually believed two-thirds of her enthusiasm
on the subject of temperance to have its rise in
the natural ambition of a brilliant young lady
to be prominent in something, and that being
the "thing" that offered first, she accepted the
position. When the issue arose between them,
he did not name it "principle" upon her part,
but a determination to rule, even if she lost
everything in the attempt ; and it was not so
much a sore heart that held him aloof from her
during that long interval, as a feeling of wound-
ed pride that he had actually been worsted in
the strife. Of course you are not to suppose
that Mr. Tresevant, receiving all these feelings
into his heart and brooding over them, ever felt
genuine, earnest, Christian love toward the ob-
ject of them. It is a question whether a self-
5

$5 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

absorbed man ever comes out of himself long
enough to realize the true meaning of that much
abused word. So there are no broken hearts
to be talked about, you Trill observe. And,
presently, Mr. Tresevant roused out of himself
sufficiently to join in the general conversation.

"Can you give us any Lewiston news, Miss
Bronson?" was his first question when he had
rallied. Dell thoughteof the letter in her pock-
et— she had changed it from one pocket to the
other when she changed her dress, — and an-
swered,—

" I should be the one to ask that question of
you, sir. Of course Mrs. Tresevant has con-
stant communication with her home friends,
while I have not seen a Lewiston face in more
than two years."

"Ah, then, we ought to be able to enlighten
you as to some of your proteges. We came
from there only two months since. Let me see.
Who icere your special friends there?"

If his purpose was to annoy her, it was a
foolish attempt ; for when the young lady did
not choose to be annoyed, it was a difficult
matter to accomplish. A mischievous smile
played around her lips as she answered,
promptly,—

"Mr. Forbes was the main friend I had. He
was especially kind to me during that time when

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 67

I so much needed friends ; and Sam Miller waa
another. Can you tell me anything about them,
Mr. Tresevant?"

The flush on the clergyman's face deepened
as he answered, coldly, —

"I was not particularly intimate with either
of the gentlemen named ; but I believe they are
still at work at their trades."

"They both dinted with your church, I un-
derstood."

"They did." His tone was haughtier this
time.

"Did they give satisfaction as regards their
Christian character ? "

"I had no special fault to find with them."
Would she ask next if he considered the tem-
perance pledge a stain on their characters, and
so bring up the whole miserable subject here in
his new home ?

No ; such was no part of Dell Bronson's in-
tention. She glided away from the subject
easily, not sorry that she had touched upon it
at all, as Mrs. Saylcs would have been; but
with a resolute determination to carry no sub-
ject to the extent of putting a feather in the
pastor's way.

"Abbie," she said, as the two friends were
sitting together in the twilight, " do you know
you gave me an impetus once, that my life has

6*8 WISE AXD OTHERWISE.

never overcome ? You said that no sooner did
you find yourself in a new spot, surrounded by
new faces, than you straightway began to look

about you and see what manner of special per-
sonal work there was for you to do. Do you

remember it? "

''I don't remember telling you so; but that
has been my habit for many years."

" And mine, since we talked about it together.
I thought of it to-day on the cars. But people
can set themselves to work so much quicker, and
so much more intelligently, if they only have
some friend to giro them a little bit of a hint.
For instance, what do you see here in Xewton
that you think 1 could do? I'm not good at
setting myself to work. My work, heretofore,
has seemed to come squarely to me, face to face,
and say, 'Here, do me: you cannot get rid of
doing me. you see, without absolute and open-
eved shirkimr.' 1 don't think I know how to
hunt after fcbings."

"I don't think we need to hunt after them,"

aid, gently. "If we have but a willing

spirit, I think they troop about us, eager to be

done.'' Then, after a moment's pause, "Dell,

couldn't you help our pastor?"

Doll laughc a.

"What a queer idea," she said. "What could
I possibly do to help him?"

WISE AND OTHEIIWISE. 69

"I don't know," Mrs. Sayles answered meek-
ly. "There are ways, I suppose; and you are
acquainted with him and his wife, and so know
better how to help them."

A little silence fell between them, Dell think-
ing earnestly. Perhaps there were ways. She
was a little averse to trying that sort of work,
which, perhaps, was one plain reason why she
should. She had not been very helpful that
day. She had carried him to the very verge
of endurance, talking about Lewiston people.
To be sure, she meant to go not a step further ;
but how should he know that ? She broke the
silence abruptly.

"I did not help him much to-day."

"No," her friend answered, simply. There
was not so much an inquiry in the tone as a
quiet acknowledgment that that fact had beeu
understood.

Dell laughed again.

"You saw that, did }Tou? Well, he was
rather exasperating in his questions to me.
There are some things about Lewiston life that
he ought to touch gently. But I am not going
to haunt him." Then, after another silence,
"Well, Abbie, I mean to try."

CHAPTER Vn.

"For all this I considered in my heart even to declare all this,
that the righteous, and the wise, and their v. oiks, are in the hand
of God,"

Mr. Sayles joined the family group in the
back parlor as they lingered in various stages
of busy idleness, awaiting the sound of the din-
ner bell. Dell had only been among them three
days, yet had dropped naturally into the ways
of the household, and by the master of the house
been taken as heartily into his list of friends
as though their friendship had been of years1
growth. His usually bright face was clouded
with care, or anxiety, or both ; his wife noted
the shadow, and after a vain effort to dispel it
with man}7 words, at last made inquiry.

"Jerome what is the trouble? You look as
though the affairs of the nation rested on your
shoulders."

"The affairs of the mill do," he answered,
smiling. "And a derangement of machinery
there affects a small portion of the nation un-
pleasantly."

79

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 7l

"Is anything wrong?"

"Yes," ho said, the shadow resting heavily;
•'I have had trouble with my foreman again, and
have been obliged to give him a final dismissal ;
and besides feeling very sorry for him, it is a
place exceedingly difficult to fill."

"Is Cramer your foreman?" Mr. Tresevant
asked.

"Yes, and a <K>od iaithful fellow, if he would
let liquor alone. What a curse that thing is.
How shall we fight it, Mr. Tresevant?"

Perhaps that gentleman would have answered
less stiffly than he did it' there had not been a
pair of very bright eyes suddenly fixed on him
from Dell's corner. As it was his voice sounded
cold and indifferent.

"The gospel is fighting it, Mr. Sayles. I
know of no better weapon.

"Yes," Mr. Sayles said, sighing heavily, how-
ever. "But the trouble is, Cramer, for in-
stance, steers clear of the gospel and everything
else that would be likely to benefit him. I con-
fess that I am at my wits' ends. I held on to
him as long as T could on account of his family.
Well, Miss Dell, what a sympathetic face — it
is t lie embodiment of sunshine. Are you par-
ticularly charmed with the poor fellow's late?"

"I'm charmed with the mill and my own
brilliant ideas," Dell said eagerly. "Is it a
paper-mill ? "

72 WISE AOT OTHERWISE.

"Yes, a large one, and at present almost en-
tirely under my control ; and a precious charge
I find it."

"And this man of whom you speak, he is —
what? "What does he have to know?"

"He is, or was, foreman of the works, and
understood the machinery pretty thoroughly,
and the sort of work that ought to be pro-
duced."

"Then, Mr. Sayles, I have just the man for
you."

" I am absolutely delighted to hear it. Will
you have him at the mill at six o'clock to-
morrow morning ? "

"Hardly," Dell said, since he was several
miles away. "But, really, I think he would
suit you, and he is very much in need of a situ-
ation. I should be so glad if you could help
him."

"Is he a personal friend, Miss Bronson?"
questioned Mrs. Tresevant, with the disagree-
ble inflection to her voice.

"Yes, he is," Dell said, with flushing face,
while Mr. Sayles crossed to her side, saying as
he did so, —

" I should certainly be very glad if he could
help me. Begin at the beginning, please, and
tell me all you know of him."

" Well, sir, he is a young man, twenty-three

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 73

or four, I should think ; has been brought up
almost from his babyhood in tho paper-mill at
Lcwiston. I have heard the superintendent of
that mill say that he understood the works bet-
ter than any man in the mill, and he has recent-
ly been promoted several times. He was made
assistant foreman last year, and but for the inter-
ference of one man would have been foreman."

"What did you say his name was?"

"His name," said Dell, her checks aglow, and
seeming compelled just then to look over at
Mr. Tresevant ; " his name is James Forbes."
Whereupon Mr. Tresevant laughed, and Mrs.
Tresevant burst forth volubly, —

"Why, Miss Bronson, you surely cannot be
serious in recommending that fellow to Mr.
Sayles for a foreman. He is the most ignorant
booby I ever saw — absolutely a rough. Now
one needs some of the elements of a gentleman
for a foreman. Isn't it so, Mr. Sayles?"

"Well," said Mr. Sayles, good-humoredly,
"kid gloves and broadcloth are not exactly es-
sentials." While Dell asked, composedly, —

"When did you last see the person in ques-
tion, Mrs. Tresevant?"

"I? Oh, I very seldom saw him. I'm not
sure that I have had a glimpse of him since he
made that funny speech in temperance meeting.
You remember? Certainly of all the queer

74 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

murdering of the English language that I ever
heard I think that excelled."

" Is he a temperance man ? " Mr. Sayles in-
terrupted, quickly; and Dell answered prompt-

iy.-

"Yes, sir, he is — a very earnest, faithful one.
Mrs. Tresevant, that meeting you speak of was
held rather more than three years ago ; a great
many changes can occur in that length of time."

" My dear," said Mr. Tresevant, "you must re-
member that Miss Bronson probably knows more
about the boy than we do."

"Yes, to be sure," Mrs. Tresevant said, with
a disagreeable laugh. "I was not intimately
acquainted with him."

"But, Miss Dell," said Mr. Sayles, "what
good will this young man do me if he is in such
high favor at the Lewiston Mills?"

"He is not in favor now, sir; he has been
discharged."

Again Mrs. Tresevant laughed, and inquired
if that were one of his recommendations. Dell
ignored this remark, and continued her expla-
nation to Mr. Sayles.

" There was trouble among some of the oper-
atives, a quarrel, ending in blows. It com-
menced in liquor drinking, at a supper given to
some of the men by the chief owmer of the mill ;
and Mr. Forbes being called on to give his state-

WISE- AND OTHERWISE. 75

merit of the trouble, ventured his opinion that
it was the liquor that was so freely distributed
among the men that was the main source of the
disturbance, whereupon ho was discharged, on
the charge of having been insolent to his em-
ployer. "

" That is a very extraordinary statement,
Miss Bronson," Mr. Tresevant said, with arch-
ing eyebrows. " May I be allowed to ask if the
person in question was your informant?"

"No, sir, he was not." There was a crood
deal of the old, well remembered flash to Dell's
eyes as she said this. "My informant was Mr.
Nelson, who was present at the investigation."

"And this Mr. Nelson is — reliable, you
think ? " This question Mr. Sayles asked, note-
book in hand, wherein he had been jotting down
items from time to time.

"Mr. Nelson was the former superintendent
of the works, a very earnest Christian man, who
is deeply interested in this young man, and es-
teems him highly."

The dinner bell pealed through the house.
Mr. Sayles arose, closed his note-book, con-
sulted his watch, and turned toward his wife.

"My dear, can you excuse me from dinner?
Dinners are very important, I know, but this
mill business is really more so. Father is con-
siderably disturbed about it, and I want to tel*

76 WISE AKD OTHERWISE.

egraph to this young man at once, and have a
reply, if possible, before the mail closes. Miss
Dell, you may be certain I will secure him if I
can. A young man who is a sufferer for con-
science' sake on the liquor question will be a
positive refreshment in the Newton Mills."

Dell took out her letter when she went to her
room after dinner, and glanced again over one
paragraph.

"Our friend Forbes is in deep trouble," and
then followed a recital of what Dell has already
made known to you. " So he is entirely out of
employment," thus the letter ran. "It is es-
pecially hard at this season of the year, when
work is difficult to ^et. He has tried in various
directions, with no success. He feels it keenly,
and the rum powers are very merry over him.
I wish it were the Lord's will to give him a
signal victory just now, both for his sake and
theirs."

Dell laughed gleefully as she refolded her
letter. If he should be engaged as foreman of
the Newton Mills, large enough to swallow a
dozen mills the size of the one at Lewiston,
what a signal victory it would be ! Then her
face darkened a little. "How thoroughly deter-
mined Mr. Tresevant was that he should not
come here," she said thoughtfully. "Now, why
bhould he care ? "

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 77

About that time her old acquaintance, Jim
Forbes, sat in much despondency on the side
of his bed in his room in the attic. His most
earnest efforts to procure employment had hith-
erto proved total failures. He had come home
that day from a visit to the town twenty miles
below — come home utterly cast down and dis-
heartened ; and he sat now with his chin rest-
ing gloomily in both hands, wondering what he
should do next. Little Tommy, from the
kitchen, unceremoniously opened the attic door,
and summoned him.

"Jim!"

" Well."

"You're wanted."

"Who wants me?"

"A man at the door. He's got a letter for
you ; but he won't give it to you till it's paid
for."

Jim raised himself slowly and wonderingly
from his bed. It was a very unusual thing to
be wanted by a man at the door, and a most
unheard of thing to have a letter. He doubted
the whole story. Nevertheless, it seemed prop-
er to go and see. A telegram ! More wonder-
ful still. He never had a telegram in his life !
He promptly paid the desired quarter, and tore
open the envelope.

78 WISE A2\TD OTHERWISE.

"Will you come to Newton first train? Ex-
penses paid. Answer.

"J. L. Satles,

"Supt. Newton Paper Mills."

Wouldn't he ! The Newton Mills ! How in
the world con Id they have heard of him away
off there in tjiat big town, in those big mills?
It must be they had work for him. But how
could they know anything about him? This
thought first, and then a reverent look in Jim's
earnest eyes, and he said, half aloud, "God is
acquainted with Newton, it's likely."

Thus it came to pass that one evening, not
long after this, Dell Bronson sat in the back
parlor talking with an earnest-faced voung man,
who was dressed in a neat-fitting business suit,
and who talked well and earnestly. It is very
remarkable what three years of sobriety and in-
dustry, and, above all, of prayer, will do for a
person. Since, as Jim Forbes quaintly ex-
pressed it, "Jesus Christ went after him to that
distant city, and found him," he had been stead-
ily progressing. An aim he had had. The
memory of his visit to Boston was still fresh in
his mind, when Dell and Dell's uncle treated
him like a "king," but the young man whom
his employer addressed as Carey had made a
deep impression. A young mau not older than

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 79

himself — a working man — clerk in that great

store — vie Idi per deference to the man

who employee! him, yet being treated by that
same great man with a certain degree of confi-
dence and respect. When Jim came to
himself, ho Ion. ;pressibly to be such an
one as that young Cai y. Not a clerk in a store
— that hud no charm for him; there were no
neatly-fitting bands and screws and complicated
machinery, in which his heart took delight,
about that. But, in his own particular sphere,
to move about with the briskness and energy
that had characterized young Carey, and some
time, when he had earned the right to it, to be
treated with that frank kindness and confidence
that Mr. Stockwcll had shown to his clerk — ■
this was Jim Forbes' goal. A very di lie rent
master from that of young Carey's had been
his, and many and constant had been his draw-
backs and disappointments. Yet he had stead-
ily and patiently held on his way, and to-night
Dell looked at him with a little feeling of ex-
tiltation at her heart. He certainly was no
"rough," but a remarkably well-behaved, prop-
erly dressed, respectable-looking young man.
His face was just a little troubled ; there was
evidently something on his mind. At last he
put it into words.

"Don't you think, Miss Bronson, that per-

80 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

haps it would be better for me to go to the
Church Street Church?"

"Why?"

"Well, I — I don't know as it's quite a proper
thing for rue to say ; but I think Mr. Tresevant
would, maybe, be better pleased."

"Anyway, Mr. Forbes would like it better.
Is that so?"

Jim laughed a little.

"Well, Miss Bronson, I don't deny that I
should be likely to feel just as comfortable ;
but then — "

"But then you are ready to do just what ia
nearest right ? "

"Yes, lam."

The reply was too ready and earnest to admit
of a moment's question as to its heartiness.

"Well, Mr. Forbes, 111 tell you just what I
think, and then, of course, you must choose for
yourself. If I were you I would enter with
all my heart into the life of the Regeut Street
Church. Mr. Sayles, you know, loves that
church, and will like to have you in it ; and
there are some more grand men in it, who will
welcome and help you. Then a good many of
the mill hands go there, and you want to have
a strong influence over them, and coming in
contact with them as you do, you can, through
them, help Mr. Tresevant in his work."

WISE A2sTD OTHERWISE. 81

"But, Miss Bronson," Jim said, doubtfully,
"I can't help having a kind of feeling that Mr.
Tresevant don't waut to bo helped by me in any
way ; don't want to have anything to do with
me, one way or another."

If Dell could only have promptly and truth-
fully negatived that as a false and unworthy
feeling ! As it was, she realized a cause for its
existence ; but she answered him, quickly, —

"You and I have no right to judge Mr.
Tresevant, you know. But what if the Master
wants you to work for him in the Regent Street
Church?"

"Then I want to do it," said Jim, quickly and
solemnly.

So these three, so utterly unlike in their work,
Mrs. Sayles, Dell Bronson and Jim Forbes, set
themselves about the work of helping the Re-
gent Street pastor with all their hearts, he,
meanwhile, knowing nothing about it.

a

CHAPTER VIII.

" TLey arc wise to do evil, but to do good the}' have no knowl-
edge." — " But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to
confound the wise."

It was a very comfortable day ; at least such
was the verdict of Mrs. Sayles and Dell Bron-
son. The rain came down with a steady, un-
ceasing drizzle, and the sky reached down to the
hills on every side, and was lead color. Never-
theless, the library was in a delightful state of
coziness, and neither shopping nor calls haunted
the conscience of the presiding genius of the
house ; so she gave herself over to the domain
of unmixed pleasure. Both ladies sewed while
they talked, at least Mrs. Sayles did, on a small
white garment for baby Essie ; but Dell had
dropped her work on the floor beside her and
was engaged in holding, and petting, and trying
to learn the names of eleven dolls, to the no
small delight of the aforesaid baby Essie, who
was holding high carnival in the library, in honor
of the rainy day.

Mrs. Sayles suddenly paused in the midst of

82

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 83

a sentence, and watched the slow progress of a
woman crossing the street in the mud, who had
a threefold object in view : to protect her dress
from the muddy crosswalk, to prevent sundry
parcels from falling thereon, and to keep her
umbrella right side up in spite of a strong wind
that was bent on getting the best of it.

"There, Dell!" the looker-on said at last,
"we arc going to have a call in defiance of the
rain. I had a presentiment that that woman
was coming here."

" And who is f that woman ' who is no wiser
than to come here to-day, of all days in the
year?"

"That is Mrs. Thomas Adams, a very good-
hearted woman, and one who talks much more
sensibly and pleasantly than many who have had
twice her advantages. I am surprised to see
her out, though. She seldom has time for calls.
I'm afraid she is in trouble."

The lady rang and was admitted, but no sum-
mons came to Mrs. Sayles.

"It is not I who am wanted, after all," Mrs.
Sayles said, presently, as the sound of footsteps
was heard ascending the stairs and sroim* in the
direction of Mr. Trescvant's room. "I forgot
that we boarded the minister. I am real glad
that Mrs. Adams has called. I was afraid sho
would be too timid."

84 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

" But what an extraordinary day she has se-
lected for the undertaking."

"Oh, she has need not to be afraid of the
rain ; her work calls her out in all kinds of
weather. I suppose she hoped to escape meet-
ing other callers, by choosing such a forbidding
day. If they don't come down immediately I'm
going to speak to her a moment. I believe I
will, anyway. She will feel more comfortable."

Before this hospitable intention could be car-
ried out, Hannah opened the door, with a some-
what puzzled face.

"Will you see Mrs. Adams, ma'am?" she
questioned.

"Did she ask for me, Hannah?"

"Xo, ma'am, she didn't; she asked for Mr.
and Mrs. Tresevant ; but they ain't neither of
them coming down, and I thought maybe you
would want to see her."

Mrs. Sayles looked the dismay that she con
trolled herself from speaking.

" What message have you for her ? " she asked,
at length.

"He said tell her he was engaged."

"Perhaps Mrs. Tresevant will come down?"

" She said she wasn't coming anyhow, for no-
body," Hannah said, trying to hide her face be-
hind the door to conceal a smile.

"Well, Hannah, I will give Mrs. Adams the

WISE AND OTHERWISE?^

You may go." As the door closed
after her, Mrs. Sayles turned to her friend.
"Dell, what shall I do?"

"Make your pastor over to suit your mind,"
laughed Dell. "He certainly needs it, and I
don't know what else you can do."

"But Mrs. Adams is a particularly sensitive
woman, and her husband has very recently com-
menced attending church. 1 am afraid it will
offend them both. You see she don't under-
stand about excuses. Would you venture to tell
him what sort of a woman she is? They are
strangers, you know."

"You might venture," Dell said, with a mis-
chievous gleam in her eyes.

"I believe I will. If I were a minister I
should be obliged to any one who would en-
lighten me a little as to people."

Somewhat doubtfully she ascended the stairs
on her self-appointed mission. Mr. Tresevant
answered her gentle tap, and she announced her
errand in a deprecating voice.

"Mr. Tresevant, you won't think me officious,
will you, if I venture to plead for Mrs. Adams?
She is a peculiarly sensitive woman, one of the
class, you know, who are always imagining
themselves slighted ; and her husband has but
lately commenced attending church at all. She
very rarely gets to see any one. If you could
give her just a few minutes."

85 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

Now, Mr. Trcsevant had no special reason
for not having time to spare at that moment,
nor for refusing to see Mrs. Adams, save that
he had just been indulging in an uncomfortable
talk with his wife, and was in a disturbed state
of mind. He was half inclined to yield the
point and descend the stairs, but a wretched re-
membrance came over him just at that moment,
that Mrs. Sayles was endeavoring to assume the
management of him, and that he must not omit
an opportunity of assuring her that he was his
own master.

" She must be a very troublesome sort of per-
son, I should say," he answered, loftily. "The
less one has to do with such people the better,
as a general thing. I sent my regrets down to
her, and must beg you to excuse me."

Utterly vanquished, Mrs. Sayles descended
the stairs, stood irresolute in the hall for some
seconds, and finally sought Mrs. Adams. Oh,
to be able to state that both Mr. and Mrs. Trcs-
evant were alarmingly ill, or at least in no con-
dition to descend the stairs ! As it was, she
blundered and stammered, and she feared, made
sad work of her story ; and Mrs. Adams' stay
was short. All the comfort of that peaceful
afternoon was gone. Mrs. Sayles was trou-
bled, and could not rise above her fears. Half
an hour afterward Hannah answered another

WISE AKD OTHERWISE. 87

ring, and carried Judge Benson's card up to tho
study, and down came Mr. and Mrs. Trcsevant
to receive him, and must needs seat themselves
in front of the bay window, in full view of Mrs.
Adams as she plodded toward home with more
bundles.

''She deserves to lose half of them in tho
mud," Dell said, viciously, "to pay for giving
us such a wretched afternoon. Here, Essie,
take your eleven children; IVo not patience,
enough to be a grandmother now\"

And again Mrs. Sayles, dropping the small
white dress in her lap as she spoke, said earn-
estly,—

"Dell, what shall I do?"

"Let it 2fo, and give him a chance to see wrhat
a delightful muddle he can get things into," ad-
vised Dell, wickedly.

"You don't mean that," said Mrs. Sayles,
sadly. "You see he doesn't realize, and cannot
be expected to, how unpleasant the results may
be, and how disastrous to the religious interests
of that family."

"He realizes that she is Mrs. Adams, the
wife of one of the workmen, and that the gen-
tleman he is entertaining is Judge Benson."

"Dell," said Mrs. Sayles, as she resumed her
sewing, "you are not trying to help."

" What on earth can I do ? " Dell said, with a

mixture of mirth and vexation in her voice.
Nevertheless she was q'liet and thoughtful after
that for some minutes. At last she broke the
silence. " Abbie, is this Mrs. Adams the
mother of that young girl that Mr. Forbes
brought to prayer-meeting the other evening?"

"Yes,*' Abbie said.

" Well, then, he must be quite well acquainted
with the family. Take him into confidence ; he
will smooth the matter over.'"

" How can he ? "

" I don't know ; but I shall be surprised if he
doesn't find a way. He is decidedly sharp, and
is specially interested in this girl, I think. I
have met him with her a number of times. I'll
engage to tell him about it, and see what he can
do, if you wish."

"I mi^ht write a note to Jerome to send him
up on some errand, if you really think he could
help us any. I don't want that man to go away
from church again, and he stayed away for 3-ears
for a more trivial cause than this. I'll send for
your friend this minute."

"But it's ridiculously rainy. Won't it do to-
morrow?"

"I don't know. I'm afraid to put off things
when I have them to do. Hannah won't mind
the rain."

Mr. Sayles, sitting in his private office, re-

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 89

ceived, not long afterward, from a very damp
Hannah, a bit of twisted paper. Its contents
were, —

"Dear Jerome: — Please send Mr. Forbes
np here on some errand. We want to see him.
Let him come in the course of an hour.

"Abbie."

Mr. Sayles smiled, said, "All right; there's
no answer," to Hannah, and continued his writ-
ing for half an hour ; then he rang his office bell ;
the bell boy answered it.

" Is Carter in ? " Carter was the errand boy.

wNo, sir; he has gone to Park Street on an
errand."

" Very well ; ask Mr. Forbes to step here a
moment."

"Mr. Forbes," said he, as that }roung man
appeared, "have you a leisure half hour?"

"Yes, sir; I can take one."

" I wish, then, you would deliver this package
safely at the bank, and then step into Snyder's
and pay their bill. I believe there is rather
more than enough in this roll to cover the
amount. And if you will call at the house on
your way back, and leave this note for my wife,
you will be able to accomplish several things at
once. Carter has been sent in another direc-
tion, they tell me."

Mrs. Sayles laughed a little over the impor-

90 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

tant note that was brought her through, the rain.
It was one hurried line : M Blessed little schem-
er ! What's in the wind now?"

She detained the messenger, however, while
she wrote a reply, and Deli entered with energy
into the business at hand.

tr Mr. Forbes, do you know that Adams family
whose daughter works in the mill?"

Mr. Forbes, with a reddening face, admitted
that he did.

"Well, then, I wonder if you could help U9
a little bit?"

Then came a careful recital of the afternoon's
developments, worded as cautiously, so far as
Mr. Tresevant's share in it was concerned, as
though Dell had no fault to find with him, save
that of being unable to devote his entire time
to callers.

Mr. Forbes listened with silent, intelligent
attention, nodding now and then by way of
testifying to his appreciation of the difficulties
of the occasion ; asked, presently , a question
or two, and rising the moment the note for
which he considered himself waiting seemed to
be in readiness, said, —

"I think it will be all right, Miss Bronson.
I'll try it, anyway."

On his way down town he made one or two
calls on his own responsibility. Dropping into

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 91

a certain corner bookstore he inquired when anil
by whom the next lecture was to be.

"It's to-morrow evening, by the Ecv. Mr.
Trcsevant," one of the clerks told him ; and
Mr. Forbes took two tickets and went on his
way. Around the corner of Stone Street, down
one block, and he was at Judge Benson's <
That gentleman was sitting behind the desk,
von' busy and alone. Mr. Forbes ventured in.

"Would Judge Benson excuse his interrup-
tion, and be so good as to tell him whether it
was true that the Rev. Mr. Trcsevant was to
deliver the next 'Home Lecture'? He knew
Judge Benson was the Chairman of the Com-
mittee, and had made bold to ask the question."

Judge Benson eyed benevolently over his gold
bowed glasses the respectable-looking young
man, who evidently belonged to the working
classes, a company of people very dear to this
judge's heart.

"It is true," he said, speaking genially. "The
bills will be out to-morrow morning. "\Vc could
not determine on the evening, before ; but I
have been to sec Mr. Trcsevant this afternoon,
and it is all right. Are you interested in the
course of lectures, young man?"

"Very much, indeed," Mr. Forbes assured
him ; "and, besides, Mr. Trcsevant was his pas
tor."

92 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Is he, indeed? And you are, therefore,
anxious to hear him ? That speaks well for you
as a man, and for him as a pastor. It is an ex-
cellent thing to see a young man like you inter-
ested in such matters. What is your business,
may I ask ? "

And on being informed, he further inquired
his name, and how long he had been in the little
city; and, further, showed such interest in his
welfare, that the young man was astonished.
However, he bowed himself out, and sped on
rapidly to the mill, his little plan in a very ma-
tured and satisfactory state. Of course he did
not hear Judge Benson's remarks that were made
to his inner self as the door closed.

"A good, frank face. Looks as though he
might make a man, and bo a sort of leader
among those fellows. I mean to keep an eye
on him. So he is anxious to hear his pastor!
That's more than I expected. Somehow that
gentleman doesn't impress me as one calculated
to sympathize with the working men. I thought
we had made a mistake in selecting him for this
course of lectures. But I guess I'm wrong.
He is, very likely, more than he seems."

It was queer how many bails this little plan
set rolling, that not a single one of the workers
knew anything about.

Mr. Forbes, dressed in his best suit, and look-

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 93

ing like anything but a rough, would have been
found that evening sitting eozily in the little sit-
ting-room of the Adamses. Mr. Adams was not
at home, but Mrs. Adams sat in her corner, at
one end of the little square table, diligently
darning a pair of blue yarn socks. Beside her
was her daughter Jenny, hemming towels ; at
least she was holding the towels, and making
very little progress. Her two brothers, Charlie
and Johnny, occupied the remaining places at
the table, busy with books and pencils. Rather
close quarters this family kept, but kerosene
had advanced several cents on a gallon, and it
was necessary to watch all the leakages in the
family expenses. So one small lamp did duty
for all. Very comfortable they all looked, save
that there was a gloom cast on the mother's face
that the cheerful shatter of the young people
failed to dispel. The visitor had been watching
her furtively from time to time. Presently he
said, —

"The next lecture in the f People's Course'
comes off to-morrow evening."

"Does it?" asked Jenny, eagerly, her rosy
checks promptly growing rosier ; and how could
she help wondering if Mr. Forbes was going,
and if he could mean to invite her? How nice
it would be if he did. She had been to so few
iectures.

94 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Our minister is going to lecture," continued
Mr. Forbes, after a little pause, and immediately
he noted a drawing down of Mrs. Adams' mouth,
while Jenny glanced in a troubled way toward
her, and answered nothing.

" I expect this has been a busy day with him,"
Mr. Forbes added, feeling his way carefully, en-
deavoring to be as " wise as a serpent." " They
didn't decide upon having the lecture so soon,
until this morning. I stopped in at Judge Ben-
son's office this afternoon, and he said he had
been up to sec Mr. Trcsevant and make all the
plans. So he must be having a busy time."

Jenny's eyes took on a triumphant gleam, and
she spoke joyousty, —

"There, mother, I told you there was some
good reason for Mr. Trcsevant not coming down
to sec you this afternoon. I knew he wasn't
fiat kind of a man. You see he had to come
down to Judge Benson, whether he had time or
not."

The pucker in Mrs. Adams' mouth still starred,
and she spoke in stiff tones as she drew the long
blue thread through the gaping hole.

"In my day it wasn't considered no disgrace
for a. man to explain the reason why, if he
couldn't see a body, 'specially if he was the min-
ister ; but times is changed."

Nevertheless there gradually stole into her

"WISE AND OTHERWISE. 95

face a mollified look, and the wrinkles slowly
smoothed out, so that by the time Mr. Forbes
had added his next drop of oil, in the shape of
a hearty invitation to Jenny to share his tickets,
ihe mother's month had trembled into a smile,
and she allowed that she would be glad to hear
Mr. Tresevant herself. She thought he was a
powerful preacher. Anyhow, sh-e was glad her
Jenny was to nave the chance 01 going.

CHAPTER IX,

u He that -vrinneth souls is wise"

They were walking home together in the
moonlight, £enny Adams and Jim Forbes.
Very bright and pretty looked Jenny, and very
happy she was. It was altogether a pleasant
thing to be coming home from a lecture, being
very carefully escorted by a nice-looking young
man, and being conscious that her new hat, with
its blue feather, was very becoming. Mean-
time her companion was unusually silent and
thoughtful. The truth was, he had been trying
ever since they started from the hall, to frame a
sentence into words that suited him. He had
thought of it much of the time during the lec-
ture. A good lecture it was, too, one that at
another time would have absorbed the entire at-
tention of the young man. This was an un-
usual month for lectures — glowing June — but
Mr. Tresevant's had been the closing one of a
spring course, gotten up by the benevolently
inclined for the special benefit of the large class

N

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 07

of working people in Newton, who were rather
more at leisure daring the months of March and
April, than at any other season. It was called
the "People's Course," had been very popular,
very well attended, and now, somewhat later in
the season than had been at first intended, Mr.
Tresevant closed the series with a lecture that
was pronounced the best one of the course.
But Mr. Forbes had "iven somewhat divided at-
tention to it throughout, his heart beinsr filled
with another matter ; and now having tried in
vain to suit himself as to the manner in which
he should speak, and feeling keenly how every
moment lessened the distance toward Jenny's
home, he suddenly brought before her this ab-
sorbing thought of his heart in very simple,
straightforward language.

"Jenny, I do wish you were a Christian ! "
The voluble flow of words with which Jenny
had been sweetening his silence suddenly ceased.
She was very much astonished. This was not
at all the manner of speech to which pretty Jenny
was accustomed when she walked home in the
moonhght with some fortunate young man from
the factory. But, then, Mr. Forbes was the
foreman, and very superior to all her other ac-
quaintances. She felt this to the very tips of
ber fingers. Still she did not know how to an-
swer him. I do not know that she had ever
7

98 WTSE AND OTHERWISE.

given herself up to ten minutes' serious thought
on the subject in question. So while she was
very anxious to answer the remark in a becom-
ing and proper manner, she hadn't the least idea
what sort of an answer it should be. Presently
she said, meekly enough, —

"I suppose I should be a good deal better
company for people like you, Mr. Forbes, than
I am now, if I knew anything about such things."

"It isn't that." And poor Jim, as he spoke
eagerly, was painfully conscious that this pretty
little creature was rapidly becoming better com-
pany than he found anywhere else in the world.
"It isn't that; but you see it is such a blessed
thing to be, and you would be so much happier,
and could do so much good."

Something of the tremulous earnestness that
was in his heart showed itself in his voice, and
Jenny felt it. Straightway it roused within her
that spirit of impishness that seems to hide in
the heart of every pretty girl of eighteen or so,
and she answered, in tones that a butterfly
might have used, for all the feeling that was in
them,—

"Why, I'm happy enough. I don't know as
I am ever unhappy unless I want to go to a con-
cert or something, and can't ; and as for doing
a<fod, don't you think that is awful stupid work,
Mr. Forbes?"

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 99

Poor Jim ! How could he answer her, how
make her understand anything about it?

"Don't you ever feel the need of having some
great, good, powerful friend, who was strong
enough to help you always out of trouble, you
know, or danger, and who was ready and willing
to help you always?" he said, speaking rapid-
ly and with great earnestness, going back in
thought to his own lonelv, miserable life, and the
awful need that had been his, and the glorious
remedy he had found. Perverse Jenny had felt
in a much fainter degree something of this feel-
ing, felt it as every human heart does. But let
no one imagine that she was going to reveal such
a desire to Mr. Forbes. That would not have
been in accordance with the same deceitful
human heart. She answered, lightly, —

"Why, I've got friends, you know. Father
is just as good as he can be, and he is always
doing something for us children ; and as for
mother, why, there's nothing in this world that
she ain't ready and willing to do for every one
of us."

And then the}' had turned the corner and were
fairly at the steps of Mr. Adams' house. The
golden opportunity was gone, and the humble,
eager worker for the Master, almost in despair.

"Won't you think about it?" he gasped, as
she tripped up the steps.

100 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Think about what?" she asked, with her
hand on the door knob, and turning toward hira
with a bright, laughing face, looking like a witch
in the moonlight. She luoidd not understand.
How could he explain it to her? There was no
time, anyway.

"About being a Christian," he said, hurried-
ly, as the door knob turned in her hand.

"I don't know how," she answered, partly in
wickedness, and partly in honest truthfulness;
but she finished the sentence with a low, rollick-
ing laugh, and a "Good night, Mr. Forbes."

Then the door opened and closed, and his
vision had vanished.

Very heavy sighs he drew as he walked slowly
down the street, alone. Once he put up his
hand and brushed away a manly tear. He had
thought so much about this, had prayed so much
over it, and her manner of receiving it had been
so great a disappointment to him.

" I don't know how," he said, in deep and pit-
iful humility. " I don't know how to speak to a
bright, smart little body like her. I don't know
how to make religion attractive to her. I'm
nothing but a poor stick, anyhow."

He could not know that Jenny Adams went
straight up the narrow stair-case to her room,
not waiting to give her usual gleeful account of
the evening's pleasure to her mother ; that the

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 101

laugh vanished entirely from her face ; that she
unfastened the dainty knot of blue ribbon at her
throat without so much as a peep into her ten-
inch looking-glass to see what possible effect its
becomingness might have had on her compan-
ion ; that she said, aloud, "He's real good, any-
how ; the best man that ever lived;" that she
sat down presently, when her light wras out, be-
fore the open window,, and leaned her brown
head on the window seat and cried outright ;
that finally, she knelt reverently before that
window, and said, "Our Father who art in
heaven" through to the "Amen" — a thing
that she had not done before since she was a
little girl. All this he could not know. Neither
could she know that he went home and spent
hours on his knees that night, praying for her.
But the "Father in Heaven," looking lovingly,
watchfully down on his creatures, knew all about
them both.

It was a thought born of this wrestling prayer
that brought him next evening to the door of
Mrs. Sayles' house. Doomed to disappointment
he felt himself, however; for Miss Bronson, of
whom he was in search, was not at home. After
several eager questions as to her whereabouts,
and when she was expected, he was about turn-
ing disconsolately aw7ay, when the lady of the
house came out to greet him. Very frank and
hearty was her invitation to him to come in.

102 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Come," she said, genially, as be hesitated;
"I want to see you. I haven't had a nice talk
with you since you came," and, moved by a sud-
den impulse, he followed her into the brightlj
lighted room. A small person, daintily robed
in white, was trotting busily from chair to sofat
bestowing treasures here and there. A rar«
and wonderful evening was it to baby Essie,
Mamma alone in the sitting-room, no papa to
claim her attention, the nurse gone out for the
evening, and her small self reigning queen.
She peeped at the new-comer shyly between the
tiny fingers that were put up to shield her from
view, then advanced cautiously toward his out-
stretched hand ; finally surrendered entirely, al-
lowing her rose-bud mouth to be kissed, and
putting her bit of a velvet hand into Jim Forbes'
great rough one.

" That's an unusual mark of confidence," Mrs.
Sayles explained. "She is very sparing of her
kisses, and not particularly fond of shaking
hands. How are j^ou getting on, Mr. Forbes?
You find plenty of opportunity for work at the
mills, I suppose?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jim said. The busy season
was coming on now, and there would be more
to do than usual.

"Oh, yes. But I mean our kind of work;
that which you and I are both trying to do for

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 103

Jesus. There is always so much of that kind
to do, and you have a special chance, you see,
you and Mr. Sayles."

But Jim's eyes suddenly filled, and the form
of baby Essie grew dim before him. It was
so unusual for any one to speak to him in this
way of the work to be done for Jesus — speak-
ing as if interested in the work, living for the
same object. He tried to answer her, to show
how grateful he was for this sort of help, but
his voice choked and refused to do his bidding.
She was answered, though. A great tear fell
on baby Essie's wee hand, and the mother, see-
ing it, knew that her visitor's heart was full.
Was it chance, or a watching Spirit's influence,
that led her thoughts just theu toward Jenny
Adams ? She spoke eagerly.

"Do you know, Mr. Forbes, I am very much
interested in a new scholar who only came into
my class last Sabbath — Jenny Adams. You
know her. I think. Did you know she was in
my class ? "

Aye. He knew it very well, indeed. A
dozen times during the session of the school
had his eyes and his wits wandered over to that
bright, rosy-che-eked maiden, sitting so demure
and looking so pretty in the corner of Mrs.
Sayles' class.

"I saw her there," he managed to stammer
out at last.

104 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

" I was so glad to have her come," Mrs. Sayles
said, with enthusiasm. "I have been after that
young lady for some time. She seemed very
shy of me ; but I think we shall get acquainted
now."

Mr. Forbes had planned to tell Miss Bronson
all about Jenny, and his longings for her ; but
the words were gone, not a sentence that he had
intended to say came to his aid ; but the one
earnest, all-absorbing desire of his heart wTas
present still, and broke forth in simple lan-
guage.

"I want so much to have her a Christian."

"Yes," Mrs. Sayles said, with ready sympa-
thy. "Do you think she is particularly inter-
ested, Mr. Forbes?"

"No," Mr. Forbes answered, slowly, with a
peculiar lump in his throat as he remembered
how little interest Jenny had exhibited. "No,
I can't say as I think she is ; but then — "

"But, then, we wish her to be, and to wait
until people are interested before wre begin to
pray and work for them is not the way to save
the world, is it? Have you had any personal
conversation with her ? "

" I tried to talk to her a little," said poor Jim,
in great humility. "But you see I don't know
how to do it, and I made a great muddle. I
think, maybe, I did more harm than good."

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 105

"It is very natural for us to think that, even
after we have done the best that we can," Mrs.
Sayles said, gently, feeling an immense respect
for her husband's foreman. " And if wTe walked
in our own strength I suppose we should have
little else than a long line of mistakes to show ;
but the Master, you know, can use even our
blunders for his glory ; but, meantime, what can
we do for Jenny? I want to get better ac-
quainted with her. How would it do for me to
invite her to tea do you think, say on Saturday ?
Baby Essie and I could have a pleasant after-
noon with her. And couldn't you call in the
evening, and see that she reached home safely?"

Did that fair little woman with the soft blue
eyes and earnest face have any sort of an idea
of the paradise that she was opening to the young
man before her? As for him, words went from
him again. He could only bow and try to stam-
mer out an appreciation of her goodness, which
proved unintelligible, so far as words were con-
cerned, but which, nevertheless, seemed to be
entirely satisfactory to Mrs. Sayles.

CHAPTER X.

" In the mouth of the foolish is a rod of pride ; but the lips of

the wise shall preserve them."

Great was the flutter into which the Adams
family were thrown when, on one never-to-be-
forgotten evening, Hannah, in neat attire, pre-
sented herself with Mrs. Sayles' compliments;
and would Miss Jenny come and take tea with
her the next afternoon at six o'clock ?

Jenny's pink cheeks flushed into scarlet, and
she turned to her mother in a bewilderment of
delight.

"Mother, whatever shall I say?"

" Say ! Wh}T, whatever you're a mind to,
child," answered Mrs. Adams, trying hard not
to look radiant with surprised delight. "When
I was a young thing like you, if I'd got invited
to one of the handsomest houses in town, I'd
have known what to say, dreadful quick."

"But there's the factoiy, }'ou know," Jenny
said, in troubled tone. "I don't get home from
there till quite a while after six."

106

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 107

It was now Mr. Adams' turn to join the con-
clave.

" Never mind the factory, " he said heartily.
"It's a pity you shouldn't have an afternoon,
now and then, as well as the best of them. Of
course Mr. Sayles will let you off when it's his
lady who sends for you. I'll see him myself
about it, and, my word for it, you needn't go
to the factory to-morrow afternoon at all."

"Well, then," Jenny said, with her merry
little laugh, "you tell her, Hannah, that I'll be
glad to come." And the moment Hannah de-
parted eager preparations commenced.

"There's that darn in your white dress," began
the mother ; "that must be fixed. You get it,
and I'll darn it right away. I'm more used to
that kind of work than you are, and you can
finish this shirt as well as not."

Jenny brought the dress, but looked rueful
over it.

"I don't believe I can go, after all," she said,
forlornly. " This dress is dirtier than I had any
notion of. I don't see how I got it so dirty.
You don't think it is fit, do }Tou, mother?"

"Not without washing, of course, child.
What a giddy thing you are. And it's torn zig-
zag, of course; who ever saw a straight tear?
But I can mend it, and I'll have it done up as
fine as a fiddle by the tim^ you get home to-
morrow noon."

108 WISE AXT> OTHERWISE.

"O mother ! " Jenny said, both charmed and
conscience-stricken ; " but you have such an
awful lot to do to-morrow."

"It ain't the first time I've had a lot to do."
This, mother answered, grim satisfaction in her
tones, as she threaded a cambric needle, and
proceeded to do wonders with the zigzag tear.
"I'll have it ready ; no danger of that. When
I set out to do a thing, I always get it done."

"It takes your mother for that kind of work,
or most any other," said the commonplace, ig-
norant husband of twenty years' standing, there-
by bringing a flush to the worn and faded cheek
of the hard-working wife. A word of commen-
dation was still, after these twenty years of ex-
perience, the nicest thing the world had for her.
Meantime, Mr. Adams had deserted his paper,
and was fumbling over an old account-book,
adding up certain short columns of figures in an
audible whisper ; and presently he counted out
seven very ragged-looking ten cent pieces and
handed them, with a gratified smile, to Jenny.

"There!" he said, triumphantly, "I can
spare that, and if you want a new ribbon, may-
be there's enough. Anyhow, it's the best I can
do."

"O father," and the shirt over which that
young lady was bending slid to the floor, and
she was at his side in an instaut. " I can do

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 109

without a new ribbon, I can, truly ; and I didn't
expect a cent of money. A whole afternoon
away from the factory is more than I expected,
and I can do nicely without money."

" Take it, take it," sulci the gratified father, a
gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. It was very
nice to have his little sacrifice so warmly appre-
ciated and so lovingly received. "Some girls
wrould have turned up their noses at it because
it wasn't more," he said to himself. "But our
Jenny ain't of that sort."

So this family made their loving little sacrifices
of labor and time and money, and felt grateful
to the very tips of their fingers to Mrs. Sayles
for her invitation. That lady, on her part, was
very busy making arrangements for the enter-
tainment of her guest.

It chanced that on the particular afternoon in
question Mr. Tresevant was to be absent, at-
tending a ministers' meeting. The look of re-
lief that overspread Mrs. Sayles' face when she
first heard of this arrangement, and the little
sigh in which she indulged, were too apparent
to escape Dell's notice, and her hostess, morti-
fied at herself for harboring such feelings, eager-
ly explained, —

"You see he is accustomed to such a different
class of people, he would not know just what to
say to her, and I am afraid it might be embar-
rassing to both of them."

110 WISE AND OTHERWISE. •

"No," Dell said, mischievously, calling to
mind the class of society that Lewiston neces-
sarily furnished the fastidious gentleman. "No,
of course he is not accustomed to that class of
people, and of course you are — have spent your
entire life among them ! O Abbie, aren't you
a bit of a hypocrite ? " •

" I don't mean to be," Abbie answered, meek-
ly enough. "But, Dell, don't you think it is
easier for ladies to accommodate themselves to
circumstances than it is for gentlemen?"

"Undoubtedly," Dell said, with the gravity
of a judge. " Just try Mrs. Tresevant's powers
of accommodation ; and see how beautifully she
will prove your theory."

Whereupon Mrs. Sayles gathered her sewing
materials about her, and merely saying in her
usual gentle tone, "When you get rid of this
mood, Dell, and are ready to help me, come up
stairs," immediately left the room.

On her way up stairs she paused to think
over this new idea. Mrs. Tresevant — just how
wTould it suit Mrs. Tresevant's fancy to treat
Jenny Adams ? And would it be best to tell her
something about the expected guest, or leave
her to be received as Mrs. Tresevant's impulse
should dictate? That lady's impulses w^ere so
variable that it did not seem safe to trust to
them, and the result of this consultatiou was,

WISE AND OTHERWISE. Ill

that she sought the study. Mrs. Tresevant was
in her accustomed, curled-tip attitude ou the
sofa, looking exceedingly sleepy. With a hes-
itation and embarrassment that she could not
overcome, Mrs. Sayles made known her errand.
Mrs. Tresevant was gracious, expressed languid
interest in the girl, and hoped that Mrs. Sayles'
notice of her would be productive of good.

"Though I think," she added, by way of en-
couragement, " that class of people, as a general
thing, are better aided by being let alone. Left
in their own sphere, you know, without having
high notions put in their heads; but, of course,
}'ou wTill be careful and judicious in your treat-
ment of her. I suppose she will take her tea
with Kate and Hannah?"

"Why, no," sai(J poor Mrs. Sayles, with flush-
ing cheeks, "I have invited her to spend the
afternoon with me. She is a member of our
Sabbath-school, you know."

"Well, my dear Mrs. Sayles, so is Hannah,
but you do not invite her to take tea with you."

"That is different," Mrs. Sayles answered,
with a little touch of dignity in her tone. "Han-
nah lives in the house, and enjoys taking her
meals quietly with Kate. She is not degraded or
ill-treated in not being invited to sit down with
us at table. She has regular duties to perform
at that time, which she engaged to do, and for

112 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

which she receives payment ; but this young
girl is my guest for the afternoon, and I mean
to treat her as such."

Mrs. Tresevaut shrugged her shoulders, and
laughed her soft little laugh.

"You and Miss Bronson are too much for
me," she said. " You live in the clouds, but a
poor little earth-worm like me cannot be ex-
pected to keep pace with you. You will have
to wTrite out my part, and let me commit it to
memory. What do you want me to do ? "

"Nothing," Mrs. Sayles said, turning away;
"unless you like to come down to the parlor and
get better acquainted with her."

" I am not in the least acquainted with her.
Never spoke to her in my life, and I presume
she would be frightened out of her senses if I
did. However, perhaps I'll come down if I get
my nap out in time."

Mrs. Sayles found her heart and spirits
6traugely ruffled by the interview, and felt com-
pelled to flee to her own room, and to her sure
Refuge, for strength and comfort.

When she came down, half an horn* after-
ward, looking as peaceful as the sunshine, she
found Jenny Adams established comfortably iu
the back parlor, looking bewitchingly pretty in
her crisp white dress, with a new pink ribbon
at her throat, aud her eyes dancing with pleas-

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 113

lire and expectation. Dell, meantime — the
wicked spirit gone out of her — was exerting
herself to the utmost to make the young girl
feel at home and happy. A white day was that
in Jenny Adams' life. Both ladies exerted
themselves to the utmost to render the young
girl at ease and to entertain her royally. Baby
Essie was in a condescending mood, and be
stowed shy, sweet kisses with the tip of her soft
little tongue, and displayed, with astonishing
amiability, all her pretty baby accomplishments.
Dell, at the piano, gave the young guest such a
musical treat as others more favored than she
rarely enjoy. Mrs. Tresevant did not finish
her nap in time for a descent to the parlors, and
it was not until they were seated at the tea-table
that she burst upon Jenny's astonished vision,
in the full glory of a white muslin overdress
and a skirt of lavender poplin. Mr. Sayles
was in full tide of cordial talk with his wife's
guest, when the interruption occurred, and had
tact enough to continue it as soon as the intro-
ductions were over. So it was not for some
moments that Mrs. Tresevant had an opportu-
nity to exhibit any special friendliness. In the
first lull that came she turned her peculiar blue-
black eyes on Jenny, and With that sort of well-
bred stare which seems to penetrate to the very
8

-i4

WISE AND OTHERWISE.
tips' cr

^n. »/f the stockings hidden under your well-
whfcttoned boots, she said, —

"You work in the mill, I believe?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jenny said, coloring to the
roots of her brown hair, and spattering the
juice of her strawberries right aud left in her
startled confusion. Up to that time she had
succeeded in appearing wonderfully at her ease,
but those great searching eyes seemed to exer>
cise a peculiar power over her.

"I suppose," continued Mrs. Tresevant, in
smooth, flowing words ; "I suppose it is a very
great treat to you to get away from work for an
afternoon, and have a chance to see your em-
ployers house?"

Now, be it known, that there lurked in Jenny
Adams' wicked little heart quite as much pride
as throbbed beneath the fluted ruffles of her pas-
tor's wife. Moreover, she was quick-witted to
an unusual degree, and knew when she was being
condescended to, and resented such condescen-
sion as proudly as though she did not work in
a factory. So now she answered in a heat of
blushing haughtiness and confusion, that "she
did not know as it was; she did not object to
the factory ; she was perfectly willing to work
■ — in fact, enjoyed working."

"Well," Mrs. Tresevant said, "she was glad
to hear hei gay so; it showed a very propes

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 115

spirit, and was certainly commendable." And
it is impossible to convey to you any idea of
the condescension with which these words were
uttered. Poor Jenny felt as if the cream bis-
cuit were suddenly burning her throat, and it is
to be feared that her hostess felt not much bet-
ter. Mrs. Tresevant, meantime, considering
her duty accomplished, turned serenely to Mr.
Sayles, and questioned, " How many work-girls
do you employ, Mr. Sayles?" The only re-
deeming feature of her conduct being that she
addressed not another word to Jenny during the
remainder of the meal. Yet I protest to you
that this little woman did not at this time mean
to do any harm ; she simply did not know how
to be kind and helpful without being insuffera-
bly condescending. There are multitudes of
women like her, who approach those occupying
a lower social position than themselves exactly
as they would pat the shaggy head of a dog,
"There, Ponto ! good dog — nice old fellow!"
and then are amazed at their want of success in
trying to " do good " to that demoralized and
unregenerate class of creatures who do the work
of this world. A most uncomfortable meal it
was the rest of the time ; the great luscious
strawberry that was split in two just at the time
that Mrs. Tresevant began to bestow attention
on her, remained split and uneaten, and Jenny

il$ WISE AND OTHERWISE.

let tae cake-basket, with its tempting array2
pass her with a silent shake of the head. Mat-
ters were not improved when they adjourned to
the parlors. Jenny's happy time had vanished ;
she was ill at ease, felt out of place, and miser-
able. Her main desire was to get home. She
even meditated making her escape, and leaving
Mr. Forbes in the lurch. She told herself that
she was a fool for coming — that they were all
a proud, hateful set. To complicate matters
still more, callers began to arrive ; and though
Mrs. Sayles introduced her gently and sweetly
as " Miss Jenny Adams, one of the members of
my Bible-class," even her fair face clouded over
as the bell announced a fresh arrival, and there
seemed no prospect of bridging over the chasm
that she saw had been made between her pupil
and herself. It was at this point that Dell, who
had been sitting over by the south window, arose
gnd crossed to Jenny's side. Bending over her
chair, she said, in low tones, —

"Miss Adams, wouldn't you like to see Mrs.
Sayles' flowers? She has such beauties ! " The
wisdom of the serpent must have been given to
Dell just then to tempt her to preface her ques-
Ion with "Miss Adams." To what girl of sev~
3nteen is not that dignified, respectful "Miss,"'
put before her name, a sweet and pleasant
sound, coming from the lips of one whom shs

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 117

considers her superior ? Jenny glanced up with
a quick, grateful smile.

"Yes," she said, heartily. "I should very
much."

" Then let's you and I escape from this crowd
and run over and see them. She has a calla
that is absolutely wonderful." And talking in
bright, familiar strain, she won the young girl
with her, through the back parlor, across a little
hall, into a tiny room, alive with perfume and
aglow with flowers. And Jenny forgot her
wounded pride, and her dignity, and her sore-
heartcdness, and gave genuine little screams of
delight over everything, for she was a true and
loving worshiper of the green and blooming
>3auties. How they chatted over the lilies and
the roses, and the great purple and pink and
crimson fuscias, who nodded at them from every
corner. There wTere so many new ones to learn
the names of, and presently Dell with lavish hand
began to break off sprays of bloom here and
there, and to say, "These are for your mother.
Mrs. Sayles spoke of intending to send her a
bouquet, and now that she is busy with callers
we will just make it ourselves." When they
had been all around the little room Dell dropped
into a low seat in front of the rose-stand, gath-
ering up her dress to make room for Jenny, aa
she said, "Let us sit down while we arrange tkia

118 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

bouquet. Does your mother like mignonette?
Oh, do you see that plant just at your left with
peculiar satiny leaves? That is a slip from
mine. I brought it to Mrs. Sayles. It is a
very choice plant. I think a great deal of mine.
Mr. Forbes brought it to me from a plant that
his cousin got in Scotland. I'll slip mine again
when I get home, and send it to you if you like.
You know Mr. Forbes, do you not?"

" You don't mean the Mr. Forbes that I know,
do you ? " Jenny asked, flushing redder than the
fuscias she was holding. " The one who is .Ore-
man in the factory ? "

" I mean him — yes. Didn't you know Le was
a friend of mine ? "

"I knew he thought a great deal of yv.i."

^ And I certainly think a great deal o=^ him,"
Dtll said gravely, tying a cluster of purple blos-
soms against the white ones of her bouquet. "I
have reason to. He was a good friend to me
at a time when I sadly needed earthly friends,
and felt almost deserted. He is a noble young
man, Miss Adams — a noble Christian. I knew
him before he was a Christian, and I ne7er saw
such a change in any one. There is hardly a
person whom I honor and respect more than I
do him."

What wonderful words were these— £jrnin2'
from the elegant Boston lady, of whosv 'jieaut^

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 119

and wealth Jenny had heard so much — concern-
ing the foreman at the factory ! And her opin-
ion of Mr. Forbes went upward, despite the fact
that it needed no elevation.

Dell's next remark was offered in lower tone
and with great gentleness.

M When you see such a character as his,
doesn't it make you want to be a Christian?"

"I don't know," Jenny answered, softly,
which was only a confused way of saying noth-
ing, for in her heart she did know."

"Have you thought about this matter any?"

The voice lower and gentler than before.
Yes, she had thought about it a great deal, more
than she had any intention of owning — thought
about it at times very longingly since that even-
ing walk with Jim Forbes, when he thought, to
use his favorite phrase, that he "made a mud-
dle." So now she said very softly, almost under
her breath, —

"Some."

"I thought it must be," Dell answered her.
"I have felt such an interest in you, such a de-
sire to see you a Christian ; and Mrs. Sayles, I
know, has been feeling in the same way. "We
are both praying for you. Won't you pray for
yourself, Miss Adams?"

And Jenny, with her fingers pressed close over

120 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

her eyes so that the hot tears dropping from them
might not be seen, said, very low, —

"I'll try."

Mrs. Sayles sent for them then. Mr. Forbes
was waiting, could not spend the evening, and
as Jenny Adams said a silent good-night to the
closing flowers there was born into her heart a
resolve that shall color all her future life.

" I don't know whether I did any good, or
whether, as Jim says, I ' made a great muddle,'"
Dell said, half laughing, half tearful, as she tried
to tell something of the talk in the plant-room
to Abbie later in the evening, when they were
alone. " I said very little, you see ; but I
prayed a great deal. We can leave her with
Christ."

"There is no more blessed way," Abbie said,
with serene brow. " At first I was greatly trou-
bled — nothing went as I had planned it should ;
but presently it occurred to me that her Saviour
knew more about her, and coveted her soul more
than I did, and I left it with him."

"For my part," Dell said, "nothing in my
life went as I had planned it should. The Lord
has taken great pains to show me that he can do
his own work in his own way, and that when I
want to help, I must let him lead."

CHAPTEE XI.

See, then, that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools but as

wise.'

Me. Tresevant was in fancy dressing-gown
and flowered slippers, leaning back in his easy
chair, looking — his wife thought — the picture
of provoking indifference. She was in her
curled-up attitude on the couch, both feet under
her, her front hair in its after-dinner crimping
pins, collar and jewelry laid aside, and a gen-
eral air of readiness for her after-dinner nap
about her. There were, however, two pink
spots on her cheeks and a determined glitter in
her eyes that augured ill for her nap, unless she
could undergo some calming-down process.

"The rooms are perfectly elegant," she con-
tinued, after a moment's silence. "Large and
well ventilated, and most charmingly fur-
nished."

"Any better furnished that these?" Mr. Tres-
evant asked, glancing his eyes down the length
of the room, and letting it rest gratefully on one
and another object of taste and beauty.

121

122 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

" Oh, differently furnished. There are not so
many fancy articles, of course. They never
furnish such things in hotels, and I'm sure I
don't want them. I have enough fancy articles
of my own ; but the furniture is much hand-
somer— heavy and dark."

"And dismal," interrupted her husband. "I
have an idea of just how it looks. I don't ad-
mire such furniture. I like the? i rooms better
than any I ever had. How came you to be
wandering over hotel rooms? You have no ac-
quaintances there, have you?"

" Mrs. Boyd is boarding there, and I have met
her several times."

."But you have no calling acquaintance wTith
her? She has never called on you, has she?"

"No, and I didn't call on her." This in an
impatient tone, accompanied by an impatient
rearrangement of the pillows. "I just stepped
in there this morning to look at the rooms.
Mrs. Bo}7d told me yesterday that they were
vacant, and I wanted to see them."

"Then I hope }rou will excuse me for telling
you that I think you did a very foolish thing,
and one that will give rise to unnecessary talk,
for I haven't the slightest intention of o:oin<2: to
a hotel to board."

"I must say, Mr. Tresevant, that I think in
so simple a matter as a boarding place, I might

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 123

be allowed to have a voice," and the ever-ready
tears showed-signs of springing up in Mrs. Tres-
evant's eyes.

Her husband drew in his feet, sat erect, and
spoke seriously, —

"My dear Laura, you know I always consult
your preferences whenever it is possible ; but in
this case I think you are being unreasonable.
There is no earthly reason why we should change
our boarding place. We have delightful rooms,
and every comfort and luxury that could be
imagined, and our host and hostess are constant
and unfailing in their attention to our comfort.
Now, what more could you ask?"

"A great deal," and the tears drew back leav-
ing a flash in her eyes. "I would rather live
in an attic, on bread and water, than to board
here. I don't like Mrs. Sayles. She is a
smooth-faced, deceitful hypocrite. I never
could endure people who were so painfully per-
fect. I don't like your pattern of propriety,
Miss Bronson, any better ; and I just feel all the
time as if I were a prisoner, and they were spies
on me — and they are, too."

*'I think all this is utterly absurd and unreason-
able," Mr. Tresevant answered in that exasper-
ating tone of calm superiority which gentlemen
understand so well how to assume. "Mrs.
Scyles seems to me a meek, inoffensive, well-

124 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

meaning little woman ; and there are few }Toung
ladies like Miss Dell Bronson."

"I should hope so — an insufferable prig, if
ever there was one. It is a great pity you did
not select her for a wife, since you have such an
unbounded admiration for her."

Mr. Tresevant bent forward suddenly, and
picked an invisible shred from the carpet. Whfin
he spoke again, his voice was somewhat con-
strained.

"I would have some regard for common sense
in my remarks, if I were yon."

"Well," said Mrs. Tresevant, "I am not happy
here ; I am miserable. If you are contented and
happy, I suppose that is all that is necessary;
but I wish I were at home with my mother. I
wish I had never left her," and then the waiting
tears burst forth in a perfect torrent.

Mr. Tresevant looked distressed. He was by
nature a gentle, tender-hearted man. He was
almost afraid of tears. He had sometimes real
qualms of conscience over his unkindness in lift-
ing this spoiled and petted child of fortune out
of the downy nest of home and bringing her into
such a different atmosphere, subject to cares and
responsibilities which she was about as well qual-
ified to assume as a bird would have been. And
yet the nest to which he had brought her was
surely not lacking in down. And again he

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 125

looked up and down the well-appointed room.
It wTas certainly as elegant a spot as any to which
she could have been accustomed. But mean-
time Mrs. Tresevant's sobs were becoming more
emphatic, and something must be done.

"Laura," he said, at last, in tones full of dis-
tress, "I do hope you will not make yourself
ill. I am sure there is nothing within my power
that I am not ready to do for your comfort and
happiness ; but, really, this thing is not feasible.
When there is no earthly necessity for doing so,
I must say that I can not conscientiously go to
a hotel to board."

"I should like to know why?" came to him
iii muffled tones from the depths of the pillows.

"Becaues it is, in a sense, countenancing the
indiscriminate sale of intoxicating liquors, of
which neither you nor I approve."

Mrs. Tresevant stayed her tears, and sat up
to answer him.

"I should really like to know what sense
there is in that? You don't have to board in
the bar-room, nor buy liquor, nor drink it."

"No; but you say by your presence there
that you think the business is perfectly legiti-
mate, and you have no objection to it."

."Carroll, I think that is utter nonsense.
Why do you say any such thing? You don't
patronize his liquors, only his boarding-house.

126 WISE AND OTHEEWISE.

Such fanaticism as that is equal to Miss Bron-
son herself. No wonder she hates hotels. All
her knowledge of them is derived from that
little low hole of a tavern where she lived.
You stop at first-class hotels when you are trav-
eling. Why do you, if it is wicked to patron-
ize them?"

"That is different," said Mr. Tresevaut, who
really was not thoroughly posted on this sub-
ject, and did not detect all the sophistry of his
wife's reasoning. "When I am traveling there
is nothing else that can be done. I am obliged
to patronize hotels ; but here we are all settled,
and perfectly comfortable."

"I am not comfortable," came in the sepul-
chral voice. His wife had gone down into the
pillows again. "I am not comfortable, I am
miserable. I wish I had never left my own
home. I hate this place. I don't care," and
the close of the sentence was lost in sobs.

Mr. Tresevaut sprang up suddenly. His irri-
table flesh and blood were not in condition to
endure more just then.

From the distant parlor there issued strains
of wonderful, tender music. The piano was
being guided by a singularly skillful hand,
wiiose touch he knew. The minister felt the
need of something soothing, and Cither he
went. Dell and Mrs. Dr. Douglass were the

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 127

occupants of the room. He went over to the
piano, and tried to get calmed down with the
influence of the weird, gentle melody.

Now it does seem to me that there are times
when it is almost a pity that people can not be
gifted with clairvoyance, or whatever name von
might call the power to know of certain tnmgs
that have just been transpiring in a place where
you were not. For instance, could Mrs. Doug-
lass in some mysterious manner have been made
aware of the scene from which her pastor had
just escaped, — could she have known of the
really earnest effort that he had made to be pa-
tient and argumentative, — it is not probable
that she would have chosen this particular time
to say what she did the moment Dell's fingers
strayed from the keys.

"Mr. Tresevant, I heard some astonishing
news about you this morning."

"Ah," Mr. Tresevant said, trying to smile
and look what he did not feci, viz : social and
comfortable, "news is very plentiful and very
cheap, I have observed. Am I to be informed
of the nature of this last manufacture?"

"Oh, yes, indeed, for I am in haste to hear
you deny it. I heard that you were going to
the Park Street Hotel to board."

The shadow of a smile left Mr. TresevamVs
face, and his brow clouded over.

128 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"I am sorry to disappoint you," he said,
haughtily; "but I have no special denial to
make."

"Why, is it really true?"

"Not that I know of; but I certainly shall

not trouble myself to deny all the statements

that people may choose to make. I should

^obably be full of business if I pursued that

course."

Mrs. Douglass laughed.

" I begin to breathe freely," she said merrily.
" You frightened me. I thought you really had
some idea of it."

" Would such an event be so very alarming,
Mrs. Douglass?"

"Indeed, it would. The idea of a minister
of the gospel being obliged to board where they
sold rum would be too much of a mixture in
these days of advanced ideas on that subject."

"People do not all think alike on that subject,
however, even though ideas have advanced,"
said the minister, feeling in a particularly bel-
ligerent state of mind, and somewhat indifferent
as to which side he fought.

"No, I know they don't," answered Mrs.
Douglass. "'More's the pity,' as Grandma
Porter says. But clergymen, as a class, are
on the right side of the question now-a-dnys,
are they not?"

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 129

"That depends on what 3^011 consider the
right side," Mr. Tresevant answered, promptly,
remembering his old talks with Dell Bronson,
and believing that he had a character for consis-
tency to maintain. "If you mean that the cler-
gy, as a class, deplore drunkenness as a great
moral evil, and hope and pray that it may be
swept from the land, then I think they will all
be found on that side. But if you mean that
sort of advocacy of temperance that proposes
to march up to a man who has a right to quite
as much liberty of action as I have, and say to
him, 'Here, sir, you shan't drink another drop
of liquor as long as you live,' or that, when it
comes in contact with men who get their living
by the liquor traffic, puts on a sort of fI-am-
holier-than-thou ' expression, and passes by on
the other side, then I confess to you that some
of us have too vivid a sense of the meaning of
the word 'liberty,' and too humiliating a sense
of our own shortcomings to assume either of
the.se styles."

Mrs. Douglass looked somewhat puzzled, and
answered, half laughingly, half in earnest, —

"I am not sure that I fully comprehend your
position, only I don't see why I should associate
with the man who murders my neighbor with
rum any more than I would if he murdered him
wi*h powder ; and why should a man have 4b-
9

130 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

erty to kill himself with liquor, and not liberty
to do it with laudanum? Those nice distinc-
tions are really very puzzling to me."

Whereupon she announced her intention of
"hunting up Abbie," gathered her gloves and
wrap about her, and took her departure. Dell
still remained at the piano, touching the keys
very softly occasionally, and Mr. Tresevant
paced the floor in a state of vexation difficult
to describe. Everybody seemed bent on run-
ning athwart him that afternoon, and, having
arrived at that interesting stage where he felt
an irresistible desire to continue the irritating
process with somebody, he presently halted
near Dell, speaking almost sharply, —

"I suppose you are fully in sympathy with
Mrs. Douglass' extreme views?"

Dell turned half round on the piano stool,
and answered, promptly, —

" I have not found occasion to change my
opinions on that subject with the lapse of
time."

"With the removal of the immediate cause
of your bitterness of feeling in regard to the
subject, I had hoped that your feelings had
modified and taken on the garb of charity."
This seemed to Dell such a harsh and unwar-
rantable allusion to her heavy and sorrowful
past , that it brought the flash to her eyes which

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 131

ne rery well remembered. However, she an-
swered him calmly enough.

"There was no e immediate cause,' Mr. Trese-
vant, and principles do not change. My father's
manner of life and his home were great and bit-
ter trials to me, but were not by any means the
foundation of my principles."

"Just let me ask you," said Mr. Tresevant,
veering suddenly from his subject, "do you
really consider it inconsistent with the princi-
ples of a temperance man to board at a hotel ? "

"Yes, sir, I do. That is, if you mean a hotel
where they keep a bar, and deal out poison by
the glass or pint."

" Why is it? " he asked, impatiently, produc-
ing his wife's argument. " He is not obliged to
patronize the bar, nor to advocate liquor drink-
ing."

" Yet he does both indirectly. He gives coun-
tenance to the house by his presence, plainly
stating that he considers it a proper place, and
the business in which it engages legitimate and
respectable."

"I don't accept that view of the subject."

"Suppose you try it," Dell said, coolly.
"Take up your abode in some liquor-selling
hotel, and then preach a sermon to your young
men, entreating them to keep away from such
places, urge them to consider it a disgrace to

132 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

he seen coming out of the left-band door which
lends to the bar, while you ten times a day come
from the right-hand door, close beside it; peo-
ple are very apt to coufuse doors under such
circumstances."

"I should not preach any such sermon," said
Mr. Tresevant, taking up his line of march
across the room again. "I preach the gospel."

L<!1 laughed, it must be confessed, a little
scornfully. Mr. Tresevant was so manifestly
in ill-humor; he was so thoroughly acting the
character of a cross boy, instead of a Christian
minister ; his last sentence had sounded so very
puerile, so utterly senseless in the light of the
present day, that she could not help the touch
of scorn. lie did not seem to notice it, how-
ever, but continued rapidly :

"Pra\r, Miss Bronson, what do you extreme
people do when you are traveling? You are
obliged to enter the unclean places then." '

"I know it," said Deli, frankly, "and I con-
sider it a very puzzling question. I don't know
what will be done until the temperance move-
ment has taken another stride onward, and
given Christian people hotels where they can
stop without violating their Christian princi-
ples. I know what one man does now. When
my uncle travels, he inquires in all directions
for temperance houses ; aud if he finds one, no

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 133

matter how poor or forlorn, or ill kept it is, he
braves the discomforts, rather than swell the
profits of a rum seller."

"Which is a very Quixotic idea, in my opin-
ion ; it will take some time to reform the world
by that process, I fancy. Miss Bronson, I dou't
believe you can ever save men by professing to
be so much better than they are."

" And I don't believe you can ever save drunk-
ards by making rum-selling respectable ; how-
ever, if I believed that people boarded at hotels
for the purpose of saving men, I should certain-
ly honor their motives more than I now do, if I
couldn't honor their judgment."

" That is just the point. You extremists never
give people credit for right motives, unless they
work in the exact line that you have marked
out."

"Mr. Tresevant, do you believe that Chris-
tian men go to liquor-selling hotels to board
because they think they can by that means
lessen the mischief that is done by the sale of
liquor?"

"That is a question which I consider every
man has a right to settle with his own con-
science."

Dell turned impatiently to the piano again.
What sense was there in trying to argue with
a man who jumped a point as fast as he reached

134 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

it? One thing she said, however, that she
would have left unsaid if she had known Mr.
Trescvant as well as one would think she might
have clone by this time.

"I can tell you one thing about many of your
people ; they would be deeply pained if you
should countenance a liquor-selling hotel ; there
is a very strong temperance element among
them, Mr. Sayles says, and they desire as a
church to take very high ground on this ques-
tion."

"My people must learn that they have not a
machine nor a puppet for a pastor. It is a
clergyman's place to lead his people, not be led
by them, and the sooner this people understand
it the more comfortable will it be for both par-
ties."

And then Mr. Tresevant was deluged by a
perfect storm of music from the indignant piano,
in the midst of which he escaped.

CHAPTEE XII.

" There is treasure to be desired and oil in the dwelling of the
wise ; but a foolish man spendeth it up."

Two most thoroughly uncomfortable beings
were Dell Bronson and Mr. Tresevant. He, on
his part, went directly to his room, paused long
enough to discover that his wife had forgotten
her tears in slumber, then donned coat and boots
and went moodily out, down town, with no other
purpose in view than getting rid of himself.
Now what, in the name of common sense, was
the trouble with Mr. Tresevant? Could he
think one thins: when he was talking; with his
wife, and decidedly another thing when he talked
with some one else ? Indeed it would have been
very difficult for Mr. Tresevant to answer that
question. He struggled vainly to answer it sat-
isfactorily to himself. Was he really one who
cared nothing in his heart for the temperance
question ? On the contrary, he would have been
heartily glad to see that evil thing intemperance
uprooted from the land. He still differed, and

135

13 G WISE AND OTHERWISE.

and differed honestly, from many ways that
people had of doing this thing, though his con-
victions as to his way being right and theirs
wrong were not so marked and positive as they
once were. But it was such an unpleasant
thing, so utterly revolting to imagine himself
talked about, his plans and intentions discussed
and commented upon. People actually trying
to lay out a road, and say to him, "You walk
in that," as if he were not capable of judging
for himself. "As if it were any one's business
what I do, or where I live," he said, drawing
himself up proudly, and growing angry again
over the thought. Now there is no question in
my mind but that minister's affairs are too nar-
rowly looked into — the question as to whether
he will make his woodpile at the right or left
side of his woodshed, or plant potatoes or peas
at the further end of his garden, are questions
which, it seems to me, might safely be left to
his own discretion ; yet how many a minister ac-
tually glories in this spirit of planning that is
agiow in his parish. Why? Because he is not
capable of or does not like to plan for himself?
a bit of it ; but because the planning is an
index of the loving, helpful spirit that pervades
his people. It is not a narrow spirit of manage-
ment, it is born of love. Who cares where the
man who keeps the corner grocery, piles his

WISE AXD OTHERWISE. 137

wood? Indeed, they hardly care whether or
not he has any wood to pile. But the minister
belongs to the people. Yes, he does : and the
true minister glories in the thought. They love
him, else very few of them would trouble their
heads about him, except, indeed, to keep a diary
of his faults. And if their management does
occasionally leap its bounds, and arrange for him
matters that come within his own private prov-
ince, he considers the hearts that prompted the
act, and is joyful still. Xo such considerations
came to Mr. Tresevant's aid. He had not fos-
tered them in his heart. lie had <rone through
all his life thus far, looking right aud left for
people who were trying to control him. It was
the old, perverse, unquenchable /springing up
at every step of the way to confront him. Why,
the man had actually married his wife in a spirit
of indignation at Dell Bronson for presuming to
think that she could change his views, and
fashion him to suit herself. Not that he knew
this — not that he by any means realized when
he vowed before God and man to love and cher-
ish Laura Elliot, that he was taking those vows
upon him because Dell Bronson did not think he
would, and it was to be a lesson to her for pre-
suming to dictate to him. If he had realized
this he would have shrunken from himself in ter-
ror and disgust. The trouble is that he did as

138 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

he always had done, nursed his injured feelings
until they swelled into wrath — worked at tho
molehill day and night with all his might, until
he piled it into a mountain, considered himself
an insulted man, and immediately cast about him
for the most marked way of showing people that
he did not care.

Being the man that he was, and following out
first impulses, as he generally did, it will not
appear strange to you that on this particular af-
ternoon he did precisely what two hours before
he had not the slightest idea of doing : went di-
rectly to the hotel and engaged the vacant rooms,
making arrangements for an immediate removal.
Then he felt better, and walked the streets more
composedly. Had he not vindicated his right
to do exactly as he pleased, without regard to
the opinions or expressions of others ? Yet be-
fore that afternoon was over, this man heartily
repented his hasty act. He woifW have given
a great deal to undo it. He felt himself going
contrary to — not exactly his convictions, but a
dawning sense of duty. Well, why not undo
the work? It was easily enough accomplished.
He knew that it was a favorite hotel, and that
these were favorite rooms — that at least two
parties would be disappointed in their plans of
going thither by his prompt action. Ah, then
there loomed up before him that awful question,

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 139

What will people think? which is really one
of the very worst questions that can haunt a
self-conscious mau. They would consider it a
very strange proceeding — they would think he
feared unpleasant consequences — that he had
not courage to brave public opinion. And Mr.
Tresevant was willing to have them think any-
thing in the world of him rather than that.
Come what would, he was going to that hotel to
board.

Dell Bronson went up stairs feeling strangely
forlorn and desolate. Her conversation with
Mr. Tresevant had revived old memories, buried
hopes, or at least buried fancies ; and at one
period of our girlhood they are just as hard to
bury as if they were real tangible hopes. What
faith she once had in Mr. Tresevant ! How
earnestly she believed that whatever he did was
from conscientious motives. How sure she was
that God wouj^i lead him into just the right way.
Remember that there was a time when all the
dear and misty and altogether beautiful future
was intertwined with thoughts of him. Now in-
deed she looked back on all those dreams and
smiled, but it was a sad, sickly smile. Dell
Bronson was no sentimental girl in her teens,
breaking her heart because the one whom she
once looked upon as her probable future hus-
band was the husband of another. It had been

140 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

a very long time since she had thought of him
in any such connection. She knew long ago
that whatever that brief passage in their lives
might have been to him, with her it was a mis-
taken fancy from which God had mercifully pre-
served her. She did not love Mr. Tresevant ;
more than that, she had known this long time
that she never did love him ; but she wanted,
oh, so much, to respect him. It is a dozen
times harder to cease respecting a person who
has once come very near to you, than it is to
cease loving him, or at least to cease imagining
that you love him. Dell would have liked to
feel for Mr. Tresevant a genuine, hearty, earn-
est respect. She would have liked to accord to
him all due and gracious reverence as a minister
of the gospel. And eveiy day he made this
harder to do. How could she look up to and
respect a mau who acted like a tempestuous
child on the smallest provocation? There had
been times when, if she could have taken him
by the hand, and led him to a dark closet, and
closed the door upon him, bidding him remain
there in solitude until he could be a better boy,
sue would have felt it to be much more in keep-
ing with their relative characters than the posi-
tions which they now occupied. All these
things, and some others, combined tu make her
Bad. Somethiug in his words had recalled to

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 141

her a sense of the loneliness of her life. Ho
had referred to her father — cruelly, heartlessly,
she thought. Now Dell had been true to her
woman's nature in that the last year of her
father's life had covered over all the dreary
years going before. Her father, of whom Mr.
Tresevant spoke so slightingly, was never the
red-faced, blear-eyed, wretched man who used
to sit in half-drunken stupidity, dozing before
the fire in that awful bar-room. He was a help-
less, gray-haired old man, looking always fault-
lessly clean and neat, bending earnest, tender
eyes on the pages of the large old Bible, fol-
lowing her about the room with those same eyes
full of unutterable love. How Dell loved that
memory — that was her father, who had given
all the love of his heart to her, and her only.
Now she was alone. There were Uncle Edward
and Aunt Laura. Yes, so there were ; and
never were there dearer hearts for one to rest
upon.

"But, then," thought Dell, sadly, sitting
down on the couch before the west window —
"but, then, they are not my father and mother.
They love me — don't I know that they do —
with all their hearts ; but when I*m away they
don't miss me as they would if I were their very
own. The truth is, I don't belong to anybody ,
that is, I'm not absolutely essential to anybody

142 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

in this world. If I bad a sister, now, younger
than myself say, to look after and care for — ■
But she would go and get married before I had
realized that she was anything but a little girl.
Seems to me I am young to be stranded on the
beach, with such an ail-alone feeling in my
heart. Oh, I have friends — of course I have,
plenty of them ; but if I should die they would
just miss me a little. Uncle Edward and Aunt
Laura would, a great deal ; and they would all
speak of me tenderly and lovingly, and shed
some tears ; and after a little, life would go on
for them just about the same." She leaned
from the window and plucked leaves from the
climbing vine and picked them in pieces, wink-
ing-hard, meantime, to keep a tear or two from
falling on them. Then she laughed a little, as
this girl was apt to do, even in her most thought-
ful moments, and continued her thinking aloud.
"Well, what of it? Are you going to be dole-
ful because there isn't, anywhere in the world,
a single heart that would break if you were gone !
To persons of unselfish natures that ought to be
a subject for thanksgiving. Don't you go to
being lackadaisical, Dell Bronson. Sentimental
people are insufferable, especially at your ago.
Remember you are no longer a very }Toung "lady.
It is really fortunate that this mood doesn't pos-
sess me very often. I shouldn't, in that case,

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 143

consider it worth while to miss even myself.
It's extraordinary that I should have blundered
into this state of mind to-day, and it is espec-
ially strange that that ridiculous talk with that
ridiculous man should have been the occasion of
it. Why emit he be a man ! You have one
thing, certainly, to be forever grateful over,
Dell Brouson, and that is that you are not his
wife. What a life we should lead ! Ah, me !
I wonder if I disappoint any one in my character
as thoroughly as that man does me ? I knew he
wasn't perfect years ago, but I thought he was a
good man. Well, I think so still; and I will
think so." Saying which she arose suddenly,
brushed the torn leaves from the window scat,
and said, aloud, in her old brisk tone, "I'll find
something to do for somebody ; that is a grand
antidote for the blues, if this is a species of blues
that hangs about me to-day." Then, after a
pause, in gentler, tenderer tone, "Something to
do for the King, my Father. I have not thought
enough about that of late. I must not fonret
to prepare for my appearance at court."

As she turned from the window a breath
of something sweet floated toward her. She
looked around for the producing cause. A
single tea-rose glowed in her little lily-shaped
vase on the mantel. Abbie's rose ; and Abbie's
hand had placed it there since dinner. She

144 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

glanced about her for some other evidence of
Abbie's call. Ah ! Behind the vase lay a let-
ter. She seized it eagerly ; letters were very
delightful creations to Dell. A nice, thick let-
ter, not in Uncle Edward's handwriting, though ;
but there were bright roses on her cheek as she
recognized the hand.

" My Dear Friend : " — thus the letter ran
— "You will feel interested, I think, to hear
that seminary life is over for me ; was, indeed,
some six weeks ago. But, besides being very
busy, there were other considerations that de-
layed my writing. I am located for a year,
supplying the Second Church of Rockton, dur-
ing the absence of its pastor in Europe. A
formidable undertaking, it seems to me, who
am but a child in the new life, and who really
feels so ill prepared for the solemn work ; but
the baud of God seemed to point unmistakably
in this direction — and all work for Christ is
solemn, perhaps this not more so than others.
The responsibilities are wider than they would
be in a smaller field. I am not sure that they
are greater. The people have greeted me with
the utmost kindness and cordiality. With the
place I believe you are familiar, so I need not
speak of that. Now, do you know I am aware
that this letter is moving on in a very stiff,

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 145

proper way? Somewhat like the introduction
to the sermon I am trying to write. In both
cases it seems proper to expend a certain amount
of time in commencing, while I really have that,
both for the sermon and the letter, which weighs
on my heart, and which I long to reach. Shall
we waive the introduction?

"Years ago, dear friend, I broached a subject
to yon which, perhaps, you have forgotten. You
were very frank with me then. I thank you for
it. I have hesitated long about writing this
letter, lest it might be wrong in me, might be
giving you unnecessaiy pain to bring this matter
before you again. Yet I find that my heart clings
very strangly to the little fragment of hope that,
perhaps, lapse of time may have healed over a
wound in your heart, and that you will let me
plant a new germ there. I am aware that I am
treading on dangerous ground. I do not know
the nature of your confidence. I do not know
whether the grave has closed over your plans.
I want to touch with tender, reverent hand this
past of yours ; but, in justice to myself, I have
decided that I must touch it. Just here, let me
stop to thank you for your letters, few as they
have been. They have been very helpful to me.
I feel that I shall do a better work for Christ,
because of some wTords w-ritten therein, than I
would have done without them. But now I have
10

146 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

something to say that I fear will sound harshly,
yet it must be said. They have been too help*
fill for me. I fear I have abused your trust.
The cheery, friendly letters that you have oc-
casionally sent me I have tried to respond to in
the same strain. Dell, the time has come when
I can do this no longer. I have decided to be
frank with you, and tell you so, even at the risk
of having no more words from you. But I feel
that I can write no more such replies to you as
I have been able to do."

The letter was long, page after page, closely
written. Certainly the young minister, whoever
he was, could hardly expect to have time to write
often such letters as that one. Dell knew very
well, indeed, who it was from. She did not
need to turn to the signature, which, neverthe-
less, she did, and read, "Homer M. Nelson,"
over and over again, with dancing eyes. There
were sentences in that letter, written evidently,
with much hesitancy and pain, that seemed pos-
itively ludicrous to Dell. "The wound in hei
heart, indeed ! If there ever had been one
there, what had become of it? No, 'the grave
had not closed over her plans.' What an amus-
ing satisfaction it would be to tell him all about
it ; that, instead of any such heavy sorrow, there
had mercifully interposed another marriage,

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 147

wherein she had not been considered ; and yet
it would be mortifying to tell him who that other
really was. What would he think of her hav-
ing fancied herself satisfied with that nature
whose depths she knew he had sounded ? "

When the long letter was finally concluded all
the somberness had gone out of Dell's heart and
life, all the merriment had gone from her eyes ;
m their place was a sweet, tender peace. She
arose from her chair and stood irresolute a mo-
ment, as if uncertain, amid all this new rush of
feeling, what to do next ; then, suddenly, she
dropped upon her knees, and her first words
were, —

"My father, I thank thee that thou hast had
thy w7ay trom first to last with thy sinful, blun-
dering, impatient child, and hast led me through
many and unknown by-ways into the light and
jcy of human love»"

CHAPTEE XIII.

" Oh, that they were wise — that they understood this."

Now you shall have a glimpse of Jane's room.
Jane was Mrs. Sayles' cook, and a character in
her way, with views and feelings decidedly her
own. Her room was up a second flight of
stairs, and the windows looked out on the straw-
berry beds, and in the distance the vegetable
garden, prospects that Jane thoroughly appre-
ciated and enjoyed. It was no seven-by-nine
box of a room ; there were no such sleeping
rooms in Mrs. Sayles' household. She held to
the unreasonable idea that if small, close sleep-
ing apartments were unhealthy for the mistress
they were equally so for the maid. So this was
a good, generous room, requiring thirty yards
of yard-wide carpeting to cover it ; and this car-
pet was small and dainty in figure, bright in col-
oring, and fresh and clean. There were no odd
pieces among the chamber furniture. Since it
all had to be new the mistress saw no reason
why it should not be neat and well chosen. Sho

141

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 143

even chose it with an eye to the color of the car-
pet and the paper on the walls, knowing mean-
time that it was to grace her cook's room !
Well, why not? Cooks have eyes. There waa
a good, wholesome glass set on the bureau,
which neither made you look squint-eyed nor
green in color ; the bed was neatly spread in
white, even the pillow-cases had a little row of
frilling around the ed^e ; over the wash-stand
was a gas-fixture, anothe
hot and cold water-pipes 1
in this room, and there w
of soaps and towels. On

seat there grew and bloss a L^o v;i roses,

another of geranium, and one little spray of mig-
nonette. These wTere gifts from Mrs. Sayles,
and cherished by stern-visaged Jane as no
owner of a conservatory ever thought of cher-
ishing his choicest plants. There were pic-
tures, too, on the walls — a photograph of Mrs.
Sayles, another of baby Essie, a pretty engrav-
ing or two, and one dainty chromo. Jane's own
personal property, these were, gifts from time
to time, presented by the master and mistress,
or sometimes from baby Essie herself. Aud
this was the cook's room ! Aye, it was, and she
was sole occupant of it, too. The house was
large aud means were plenty, and there was no
need, Mrs. Sayles thought, of stifling little ten-

150 WISE AND OTHEHWISE.

der seeds and choking good resolves, that might
perhaps find lodgment in some girl's he-ait if
they were not frittered away by idle gossip, or
plucked up by the roots by some unsympathetic
eye, that must needs be always with her. Mrs.
Sayles believed it was a means of grace to give
every heart a chance for quiet communion with
its inner self. Now what a chorus of indignant
voices could I hear above my ears if I could only
be invisibly present while some half-dozen mis-
tresses of houses and servants were reading and
discussing this description of Jane's room ! I
distinctly hear them.

"The idea !" says one. "Perfectly absurd !"
echoes another. " Some ridiculous old maid
wrote that who never kept house and never had
a servant/' sputters an indignant third party.

I beg your pardon, my dear madam, I am not
an old maid, and I have kept house and had a
servant.

" And did you give her a room like the one
you have been describing?" And now the en-
tire six sit up straight in various stages of ex-»
asperation, and await my answer.

" No, ma'am, I didn't. Let me tell you why.
I had no such fair and beautiful room in my
whole house as the one I have been describing;
but I did the best I could. I had the bed fur-
nishings whole, and neat and clean. I had little

WISE AND OTHEKWISE. 151

toilet glass and washbowl and pitcher on the
wasbstand. If I could not find carpeting enough
to cover the whole room, I always managed a
square bit for the front of the bedstead, and an-
other for the wasbstand. I always managed to
introduce some means of warmth into the room,
if the thing were possible. I do not mean that
I gave my very best and brightest things to my
hired servant. Mrs. Sayles did not. You
should have seen her guest chamber ! I only
mean that there was no awful incongruity be-
tween the servant's room and every other abid-
ing place. It is not every one that can lavish
the dainty beauty on their cook's room that Mrs.
Sayles did on hers. But the people are very
few who, living with many of the comforts of
life about themselves, have need to deprive their
hired help of the common necessaries wherewith
to make a decent and cleanly toilet. And the
people are very many who do just that thing.
I have had occasion several times in my life to
glance for a minute into servants' rooms in my
passage through grand houses, and the sight has
made me angry. Amid all this American hue
and cry of ' poor help ! ' it is time that some one
took up the counter cry of c poor mistresses ! '
Miserable mistresses ! who smuggle their hired
girls into miserable attics, and give them noth-
ing wherewith to be comfortable, or even de-
cent."

152 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

Well, at the door of Jane's large bright room
stood Mrs. Sayles, gently tapping. It was
another of this strange woman's strange ideas
that she saw no earthly reason why she should
be at liberty to burst, without warning or invi-
tation, into her servant's room, when to do so
with any other member of her household would
be gross impertinence. So she tapped gently,
and waited her invitation to enter. In her hand
she carried a tiny jar, with a spray of ivy just
springing into life. Mrs. Sayles' cook had
"nerves." She belonged unmistakably to that
class of people who have nothing to do with
such inconvenient articles ; she had not even
" seen better days," — in fact, these days where-
in she reigned supreme in the great airy, well-
appointed kitchen, were really Jane's very
palmiest ones ; and yet there came to her times
when the oven would be a shade too hot, or not
quite hot enough ; when chairs toould tip over,
and milk spill, and dish-towels drop, without
any apparent cause for such insane proceedings ;
and, strange to say, Jane's temper seemed to be
no more strongly fortified on such occasions than
if she belonged to a higher order of humanity.
On this particular day her nerves had evidently
been tried — matters had gone awry with her
since she first made her appearance in the
kitchen with a gloomy face, and boxed little

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 153

Tom's ears for scattering ashes on the hearth.
The toast, when it came up to the dining-room,
Was just a trifle scorched, and Mrs. Sayles, going
down to speak about it afterward, caught a
glimpse of the solemn-faced creature, and fore-
bore. This was evidently no time in which to
bring forward a plea for toast. There was no
telling what had rasped the unsteady nerves;
and really for the time it did not matter what
had, since trouble manufactured out of a mole-
hill, after it has loomed into a mountain, is,
while the vision lasts, just about as hard to en-
dure as though it wrere a real mountain. So
the mistress spoke gently, praised the manner
in which the eggs were cooked, instead of find-
ing: fault with the toast, and immediately sent
up stairs for Hannah to come and lighten some
of the cares of the kitchen. A very singular
mistress was Mrs. Sayles. So here she stood,
gently tapping at her servant's door, and pres-
ently entered, in response to a somewhat surly
invitation to do so. Jane sat over by the win-
dow, where the sunlight did not come, sewing
hard and fast on a coarse, thick garment. Mrs.
Sayles cammenced her senteuce the minute she
had closed the door.

"Plere, Jane, is the ivy slip I promised you ;
it has rooted at last, but it required an immense
amount of coaxing to make it do so."

154 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Thank you, ma'am," Jane said, still in a
somewhat surly tone, and added, grimly, "It
takes a power of fussing to make some things
come out right, and then they won't, after all
is said and done."

Nevertheless she bestowed sundry little lov-
ing touches on the thrifty green leaves of the
ivy, as she made room in the window-seat for
the pot. Mrs. Sayles helped herself to a chair.

"What is that long seam, Jane? won't the
machine sew it?"

"The machine is busy, ma'am, and this seam
is in a hurry."

"Oh, there is nothing so very important for
the machine to-day. I just came from the sew-
ing-room. Baste it up, Jane, and then baste in
a hem, if it is to be hemmed, and I'll send it
up to Maria. It is a wrapper, isn't it? For
youv father? How nice that will be! But
doesn't it need more cutting out in front?"

"I'm sure I don't know, ma'am," Jane said,
in despairing tones. " It's the witchedest acting
being I ever see, anyway ; and I've been that
tried with it, that if there was a fire in the grate
I'm thinking I'd stuff the thins: iu."

No sermon on the sin of impatience did Mrs.
Sayles preach, unless the sermon wras in hei
gentle, sympathetic tones.

" Let me take it a moment. Now lend me

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 155

your scissors. Yes, it needs cutting out a little
more and trimming off, and the collar isn't quite
rh.dit. If you will thread me a needle T will
baste it on a trifle higher. I had rouble with
Mr. Sayles' last winter, so I am posted."

"I've let it out, and puckered it in, and
turned it backward and forward, until I don't
know which is head and which is tail," said poor
Jane, in desperation. "And I never knew how
to make one of them things, anyway."

" Then I wonder that you have succeeded so
well ; they are hard to make. This is going to
be very nice; it only needs a little alteration.
Was it because of your haste with this that you
did not get out to the prayer-meeting last even-
ing?"

Jane's warm, red face grew redder, but she
answered, promptly, —

"No, ma'am, it wasn't that. I stayed with
father all the evening ; but it wasn't that either.
Father slept all the while, and mother was there,
and Susan ; and I could have gone just as well
as not, if I'd wanted to ; but I didn't feel no
hankering after the meeting — and that's the
long and short of it."

"Didn't you feel the need of any help?"

"Yes, ma'am, I did — plenty of it; but I
didn't expect to get none there; and, ma'am,
that's exactly what I want to speak to you about.

156 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

I've pretty near made up my mind to go to the
other church."

This was spoken with rather a defiant air, and
Jane looked as though she expected and were
fully prepared to meet opposition. Her mis-
tress took the matter very calmly, indeed, only
asking, in quiet tones, —

" Do they have a different Saviour at the other
church?"

" No, ma'am," said Jane, ahashed. " But they
do have a different minister, they do so ; and it's
just come to that pass with me, I can't get along
with Mr. Tresevant no longer. Him and me has
got to go different ways. A body has feelings,
Mrs. Sayles, and they can't get along without
'em ; and I'm free to confess I can't get along
luith mine. I've stood a good deal, and kept
in my place, and said nothing ; but I ain't going
to do it no more."

"What is the trouble, Jane? You haven't
told me how your feelings have been hurt."

"Well, ma'am, it ain't easy told. It ain't
like a big stab with a knife, that bleeds and
makes a fuss, and has everybody see it. It's
just pins, little mites of 'em at that, pricking
into you, here and there, every hour. The
long and short of it is, I'm used to being treated
decent. I ain't a fool. I don't expect 'em to
iuvite me into their parlor to spend the after-

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 157

uoon ; though, for the matter of that, I've been
in Mrs. Mul ford's parlor and stayed an hour at a
time ; but I do want to be spoke to as if I was
a human being, and not an animal.'*'

"Mr. Tresevant is certainly not unkind to you,
Jane?"

Mrs. Sayles' tone was somewhat startled, and
Jane's similes were rather striking ; but Jane
herself was entirely composed, and answered,
promptly, —

"No, ma'am, he ain't, neither to me nor to
Nero; and he treats us both about alike. I'm
a decent woman, and I conduct myself respec-
table," continued Jane, waxing eloquent ; " and
I'm a member of his church, and it ain't no
more than fair that he should have a word to
speak to me, now and then."

"O Jane, I'm afraid you're a little bit foolish
about this. Don't you know gentlemen get
used to seeing the same people about them day
after day, and don't think to speak to them?"

"Oh, yes," said Jane, nodding her head with
indignant emphasis, "I know all about it. I
haven't been about him near so long as I have
about Mr. Sayles, and he always thinks to speak
a pleasant word."

"But Mr. Tresevant is different from Mr.
Sayles ; he is absent-minded. He don't speak
to me half the time when I meet him in the halls,
but I don't get olTended about it."

158 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"It isn't that," said Jane, jerking her thread
with an impatient air. " Why, ma'am, }^ou know
I ain't a fool. I don't want folks to palaver to
mo, nor make any fuss about taking notice of
me. It's just that once in a while I like to have
my minister act as if I was a human being, and
had got a soul. I can't explain to you how it
is, but I can feel it. Mr. Tresevant don't know
nor care no more about me than if I was that
black cricket there on the hearth ; and he takes
pains to show it, too. Why, land alive, if he
took half the trouble to notice me, that he does
to show that he looked over, and around, and
above me, I'd be set up with importance; and
as for her, there's no pleasing of her. I'm ex-
pected to know, without tc Sling, which night she
wants her toast wet, and which night she wants
it left dry; and I do, too, for that matter — I
know that the night I leave it dry she wants it
wet. I can't suit her, nohow, try my best ;
and it's plenty of sour looks and cross words I
get from her ; and it don't stand to reason that
I can be pricked forever, and not get rough.
But that's neither here nor there after all. 1
could near all them things and not say a word,
and go down on my knees to both of 'em all
my days, if he would be kind of nice like to
father ; but when it comes to neglecting of him,
that's more than tlesh and blood can stand."

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 159

"1 know," Mrs. Sayles said, with exceeding
gentleness. "It is very hard for us to fancy
that those we love are neglected ; but I think
we are very apt to forget that in a large congre-
gation like Mr. Tresevant's there are always
many sick ones, and that the clergyman has
only a little time to divide among them all."

Jane sewed on, grimly.

" It's queer kind of dividing," she said at last.
K It ain't more than ten steps from Judge Bar-
nett's gate to ours, and Mr. Tresevant has been
in there every single day since Judge Burnett
hurt his arm ; and he ain't no need of him, either,
tor every one says he is getting on fine, and will
be out in a few days ; and there's my father, who
ain't set foot out of doors, it will be thirteen
weeks next Sunday — ajid, more than that, he
never will again — and no minister ever comes
near him. That's more than my blood can bear."

And poor Jane's tears fell thick and fast among
the stitches that she was vainly trying to take.
Her " nerves " had decidedly got the better of
her. Her mistress stitched away in pitying si-
lence for a little while, then asked, gently, —

" Did you ever tell Mr. Tresevant how ill your
father was ? You know he is a new comer here,
and I dare say doe3 not hear of half the sick
ones. We are all careless in that respect."

"I've not been careless, ma'am, you may be

160 WISE AND OTHEEWISH

sure, with my father lifting a corner of the cur-
tain when the minister comes out of Judge Bar-
nett's side door, to see if his turn is coming;
and then dropping it, patient like, and saying,
f Ah, well, he hasn't time to-day, most likely.'
Yes, 1 told him all about my father — how he
used to be at meeting regular, and at prayer-
^neeti ng, and how he loved them, and how sick
be was, and how the doctor said he would never
oe any better, and how much he longed to see
his new minister. I've told him a dozen times,
and he said, 'I'll look in on him some day when
I have time.' And when last I spoke to him,
he made no answer at all ; and she said, f How
that creature does pester one abc at her father 1 ' "

CHAPTEE XIV.

" These things also belong to the wise"

"I heard her say it, ma'am, with my own
ears ; and do you think I want any such minis-
ter's wife as that?'*

It was very clear to Mrs. Sayles' mind that
she was not gaining ground. There was no use
in trying to smooth over Mr. Tresevant's main
fault to this excited, filial-hearted girl. Her
own slights she could forget, but neglect of the
sick and dyinp; father was harder to endure.
Her mistress deeply sympathized with her, and
n truth was not a little startled over her pas-
tor's neglect, as she knew that her husband had
made a special request to him to call on Jane's
father. She chose a new style of argument.

"After all, Jane, do you suppose your sole
object in uniting with the Regent St. Church
was because the pastor was kind to 3*011 and
thoughtful of your comfort? Had you no bet-
ter motive than that?"

"One church is as good as another," Jane

11 161

162 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

said, evasively. "It don't matter which I go
to."

"Ah, you mustn't deceive yourself with that
thought. If you were about to unite with a
church for the first time, it would perhaps make
little difference which, you would have a perfect
right to take your choice ; but to change from
one church to another is a different matter. It
always makes more or less talk ; and the reason
why should be quite plain, I think, and solemn
enough to overbalance whatever might be said
to the injury of the church."

"Oh, but, ma'am," interrupted Jane, with a
sort of sharp humility, "who is there to know
or care what church I go to, or whether I go at
all or not? I ain't of any kind of consequence,
not even to my minister ; and if he don't care,
who should?"

"Is that quite honest, Jane?" Mrs. Sayles
asked, with penetrative gentleness. "Don't
you know of quite a number who will talk about
it, and wonder over it? Your father and
mother, for instance; and your sister Susan,
who is not a Christian, and who is all the time
watching to see whether you do things from
right motives ; and the girls at the mill, who
are your friends, and are not Christians. Do
you really think it would be for the glory of
God for you to make all this talk and injure the

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 163

usefulness of your pastor in the eyes of your
friends ? "

"I can't help it," Jane said, doggedly. "If
f went to Dr. Ransom's church he would come
and see father. I know he would. He looks
just like he would come in a minute ; and it's
hard if father can't have a minister to speak a
word to him once in a while. It's awful hard,
Mrs. Sayles. Them that hasn't tried it couldn't
think what a hard thing it is to stand."

"Jane," said Mrs. Sayles, her voice the while
being very gentle, and yet very solemn, "do
you pray for Mr. Tresevant every day ? "

"No, ma'am, I don't know as I ever did."

" O Jane ! Are you sure, then, that you have
done your duty to him ? I am certain you are
not one who thinks that people have no duties
toward their pastors ; and what a very plain and
simple one this is ! Besides, is it possible that
you have really desired to have Mr. Tresevant
visit your father because of the help that it
would be to him, and yet have never asked God
to put it into your pastor's heart to do so?
After all, are there not two sides to this ques-
tion?"

Silence, then, in the room, Jane sewing away
earnestly, the flush on her face not dying out,
new thoughts evidently stirring in her heart.
After a little Mrs. Sayles spoke again, very
erentiv. —

164 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

" I clo not suppose Mr. Tresevant is perfect.
I think hiui like the rest of us — a Christian who
makes mistakes and leaves undone things that
he ought to have done. You know he professes
to be a mere man. He probably mourns over
his own failings just as we do over ours. The
question is, when we come to our Saviour every
day with the story of our failings in duty, our
sms of heart and tongue, and ask and expect to
be forgiven, shall we be charitable only toward
our own faults and mistakes, expecting God to
overlook them, and give us strength to try
again, while we feel in our hearts bitterness to-
ward some other Christian, and think, because
his mistakes are different from ours, that they
are therefore greater, and we cannot overlook
them, nor ask Christ to forgive them?"

Not one word said Jane. She sewed away
wTith trembling fingers, once and again a tear

DC7 «—>

plashed on the sleeve that she was sewing, and
several times she took up a bit of her own sleeve
and wiped her eyes. Mrs. Tresevant's voice
presently broke the stillness of the house :

" Hannah ! I want you or Jane to come and
wheel these trunks out of the clothes-room foi
me, right away."

K Yes, ma'am," they heard Hannah's voice an
swcr. "I'll speak to Mrs. Sayles."

"Jane," said Mrs. Sayles, softly, " shall I telJ
Hannah to do it?"

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 165

And Jane arose with a resolute air.

"No, ma'am, you needn't. I'll 'tend to the
trunks myself. I'm an old fool, that's what I
am, and I thank you for putting me in the way
to see it."

And Jane went with determined tread out of
the room. As for Mrs. Sayles, she called Han-
aah and dispatched her to the sewing-room with
the dressing-gown, with directions to the seam-
stress to sew the seams on the machine, and to
finish the garment. Then she went down stairs
to another ordeal. It was a different sort of
one, but perhaps not any more comfortable to
endure. She gave a little bit of a sigh when
Hannah told her it was Mrs. Arnold who was
waiting to see her.

Now Mrs. Arnold belonged to that class of
people who preface a great many of their re-
marks with, "Oh, have you heard ! " or "Don't
you believe ! " or " Isn't that such a shocking
affair ! " Just what wTould be occupying her
well-stored mind at that particular moment Mrs.
Sayles felt it impossible to say, but that it would
be something uncomfortable she felt quite safe
in thinking. Also, as the day was waning Mr.
Sayles had arrived, and sat in the parlor enter-
taining their guest ; and as Mrs. Arnold was not
one of his favorites, his wife knew by past ex-
perience that his presence would not lessen her

166 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

task. Dell, too, was there ; but Dell bad been
for the last twenty-four hours in a remarkably
subdued state of mind, and might really be of
service. Mrs. Arnold hardly waited until her
hostess had greeted her before her voice took on
that indescribable sound that betokens shocked
astonishment.

" My dear Mrs. Sayles, I have heard some-
thing to-day that I do hope and trust isn't true.
Is it possible that your boarders are goiug to
leave you?"

Mrs. Sayles winced a little. She had hoped
that that news was too recent to have reached
even Mrs. Arnold's ears. But she answered,
as lightly as possible, —

"Why, yes, Mrs. Arnold ; you did not imagine
that they were domesticated with me for life, did
you?"

"Oh, dear, no ! I'm sure it was delightfully
kind and thoughtful in you to take them at all ;
such beautiful rooms as you have. I said at
the time that it must be very hard for you to
see them occupied with boarders."

Now herein lay one of the puzzling inconven-
iences in the way of carrying on a conversation
with Mrs Arnold. Her hostess knew her well
enough to be certain that she must hasten for-
ward an emphatic and positive disclaimer, or
expect to hear herself reported as having said

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 167

that she could not endure to have her exquisite
rooms defiled by the presence of boarders. Even
in the face of the disclaimer it was not certain
that Mrs. Arnold would remember to distinguish
between sentences spoken by herself and those
which emanated from her hostess. However,
Mrs. Sayles took all possible precaution by
earnestly explaining and re-explaining her en-
tire satisfaction with her present arrangements.

"Then, why in the world do they leave you?
How absurd in them, when they are so elegant-
ly located ! And you really are willing to keep
them? Why, dear me ! I hadn't thought of
that view of the case. I supposed of course
that you were tired of them, and I said to Mrs.
Roberts that it certainly was no w7oncler ; of
course you would prefer being alone to having
any boarders, but especially those who were
constantly receiving so much company. Mrs.
Roberts and I both agreed that it was really
making too much of a hotel parlor of your ele-
gant reception room. And you are willing to
let them stay ! Dear me, that is surprising ! "

Poor little Mrs. Sayles glanced appeal ingly at
her husband — evidently in shielding her own
hospitable intentions she had made matters
worse for Mr. and Mrs. Tresevant. Mr. Sayles
joined in the conversation in a tone which
Bounded hopelessly frolicsome to his wife's ears*

168 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Don't you know, Mrs. Arnold, there is such
a thing as being selfishly exclusive? Perhaps
my wife and I think we have enjoyed a selfish
monopoly of our pastor's society long enough,
and feel it our duty to pass him around among
the outside world a little."

"But what a way to do it ! " exclaimed Mrs.
Arnold, with more exclamation points in her
words, and evidently detecting neither nonsense
nor irony in the explanation. "It seems such
a strange thing for a clergyman to go to a hotel
to board. Mr. Sayles, you surely did not ad-
vise him to do that ! "

"As to advice," Mr. Sayles answered, with
the gravity of a judge, "that is a matter which
is entirely out of my province. I leave it en-
tirely to my wife. Indeed, this whole business
of what a -clerg37man shall or shall not do I con-
sider to be in the hands of you ladies. You
certainly are eminently fitted to look after him."

On the whole Mr. Sayles rather enjoyed his
conversations with Mrs. Arnold. He could be
as sarcastic as he chose without the least fear of
being understood. Nothing daunted, she pur-
sued her theme.

" But I'm sure your wife didn't advise such a
thing — she is too good a temperance woman.
Mrs. Sayles, don't you think it is a very singu-
lar proceeding? Mrs. Roberts says she has

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 169

heard rumors before that Mr. Tresevant was
anything but stanch in his temperance princi-
ples, and this only confirms her in this belief.
Miss Bronson, you came from his vicinity, I
have heard. You ought to know something
abort his views. Is he really a temperance
man?"

"I never saw him intoxicated in my life,"
Miss Bronson replied, with owlish solemnity.

"Dell!" exclaimed Mrs. Suyles in positive
pain, while her husband laughed appreciatively.

"Well," Dell said, with fearless air, "one
might as well say that as anything else. In
these enlightened days to hear a minister of the
gospel called in question in regard to his tem-
perance views is a new thing under the sun. I
should as soon expect to be asked if he were a
Christian."

Not without some qualms of conscience did
Dell say this. Was it true? Yes; after due
reflection she felt convinced that it was. She
understood Mr. Tresevant better than he under-
stood himself, and felt certain that it was not
rum but self that stood in his way. Mrs. Ar-
nold regarded her in wondering silence for a
moment, then returned to the precise point from
which she had started, ignoring all that came be-
tween, as such natures generally do.

170 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Mrs. Sayles, don't you think it a very strange
proceeding?"

" Why?" Mrs. Sayles asked, not for informa-
tion, but to gain time.

"Why, because I think it is — very strange.
I don't know what people will think about it.
You know dear Dr. Mulford was very strict on
that question, and he educated us all to his way
of thinking. I don't believe the church will tol-
erate a pastor without temperance principles."

Mrs. Arnold was one of those people who
wTas given to sending "dear Dr. Mulford" dishes
of brandy peaches and wine sauces, and being
offended w'hen she learned that he never ate
them ; nor had the good man ever once had rea-
son to hope that she was educated to his way of
thinking."

"Don't you think," Mrs. Sa}des asked at last,
speaking very gently, "don't you think, Mrs.
Arnold, it is an uncharitable conclusion to ar-
rive at, that because a man differs from us in his
way of working out a principle, he must, there-
fore, be destitute of that principle?"

Mrs. Arnold never answered so abstruse a
question in her life — it was not likely that she
would do so now ; but she answered, neverthe-
less, with great promptness.

" I think a man should be particular about his

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 171

actions — a clergyman of all persons. Now,
Mrs. Sayles, do you honestly think a hotel is the
place for him?"

Mr. Sayles came suddenly to the rescue.

"Aren't you wasting time, ladies? What is
the use of discussing the question twice over,
keeping the man in suspense meantime? Why
not let him have the benefit of the discussion as
well as the decision? My dear, shall I summon
Mr. Tresevant?"

"Oh, mercy, no!" Mrs. Arnold said, in
alarm ; while Abbie turned away her flushed
face, and coughed in order not to laugh or cry
— she felt almost equally like doing either.

"I'm sure I don't want to see him," Mrs. Ar-
nold continued. "1 shouldn't know what to say
to him. What I should like to know is, just
what you think of all this, dear Mrs. Sayles.
"You are so ready to find excuses for people;
but you are so very decided on the temperance
question that Mrs. Roberts and I thought }7ou
would really be nonplused this time."

"I can conceive,"' said Abbie, speaking very
slowly and hesitatingly, "of reasons why Mr.
Tresevant should consider it his duty to board
in a hotel — he would thereby come in contact
with people whom he couldn't otherwise hope to
meet familiarly, and he might gain an influence

172 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

over such, and be the means of doing them
good."

"And that is the reason why he goes there?"
"I do not say I am giving his reasons, be-
cause I really have no business with his personal
reasons for doing things. I simply say that I
can understand how a good man might reason
from such a standpoint."

CHAPTER XV.

"I would have you wise unto that which is good."

Mrs. Arnold arose and gathered her lace
shawl about her.

" Well," she said, with a little sigh that might
have been indicative of either relief or disap-
pointment, "I'm sure it's a new idea to me. I
am very glad to hear that our pastor is governed
by such motives — it may be, as you say, the
means of doing good. At any rate, I shall take
pains to let people know how self-sacrificing he
is in leaving your delightful home and enduring
all the discomforts of hotel life, merely in the
hope of doing some good ; it is quite the mar-
tyr's spirit." And then the hostess followed
her rustling caller from the room, to endure as
best she could the finale of that terrible visit in
the hall.

"That blessed little hypocrite is a benefactress
to her sex," Mr. Sayles said, the moment the
door closed. " She has actually given Mrs. Ar-
nold a new idea I Something that she hasn't

i7a

174 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

received since her last call here, I'll venture. I
say, you silent woman over in the corner there,
don't you wish you were as prompt to discern
new ideas as some people are? What do you
think of our pastor's martyr spirit?"

"There is some truth in it," Dell said, with
sudden gravity. " I think he ffas probably ar-
gued himself into believing this very thing. A
sort of ? all things to all men ' arrangement, you
know. He is just the sort of man to reason out
such an idea and cling to it."

" Some ideas need a tremendous clinging to
in order to have anything left of them ; and I
should say this was one of them."

" But I do sincerely think so," Dell said, with
earnestness. "His ideas are peculiar — he has
strange ways of reasoning, but I believe he has
a hearty desire to do what will be for the best
in the end."

"No doubt," Mr. Sayles said, dryly. "I
haven't the least idea but that Mrs. Tresevant is
also actuated by the same lofty motives. Have
you ? "

Something in his tone caused Dell to s*\y,
with a half-deprecating laugh, —

"Mr. Sayles, I don't think you're inclined 'to
help,' as Abbie calls it, a bit more than I am."

"I'm inclined to when I'm entirely under the.*
influence of the blessed little woman herself-—

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 175

it is only the wicked spirit which your sympa-
thetic nature arouses within me that exhibits
itself to you. Why is it, do you suppose, that
von and I arc so prone to evil? "

"I don't know," Dell said, sadly. "You are
in jest and I am wholly in earliest. I would
give anything in this world to have such a spirit
as your wife possesses."

"I don't doubt it in the least," he answered,
eagerly. "I never saw any one like her. She
lives in an atmosphere of purity. I should
think you ladies would be specially inclined to
jealousy, because, you see, her life is so entire-
ly foreign in spirit to that which your sex gen-
erally exhibits."

The spirit of nonsense was rampart in Mr.
Sayles this evening. If he chanced to com-
mence a sentence seriously, it ended in anything
but an appropriate manner. Generally Dell
was a match for him, but to-night something had
subdued and softened her. She made no at-
tempt to answer the thrust at her sex — indeed,
she felt the truth of the jestingly spoken words.
Mrs. Savles entering at that moment, her hus-
band turned to her.

" My dear, wouldn't it be well for you and me
to go down to the Arbor Street restaurant to
board ? You know we might manage to gain an
influence over people, with wrhom you certainly

176 WISE AND OTHEEWISE.

-will never be likely to come in contact in any
other way."

For all answer his wife dropped herself among
the cushions of the couch whereon he was loung-
ing, laid her head on his arm and burst into
tears. This proceeding was so extraordinary
that it thoroughly sobered and alarmed her hus-
band, and Dell turned from the piano-stool,
where she had just seated herself, and looked
with silent amazement on her friend. She cried
occasionally, not often, but now and then, some-
times in sorrow, and sometimes in sheer vexa-
tion over somebody or something ; but Abbie,
gentle, quiet, evenly-poised, sweetly-tempered
Abbie, indulged once in a while in a little bit
of an almost inward sigh that scarcely ruffled
her fair brow, but beyond that she had seemed
to those most familiar with her to live above the
Btorms and frets and tears of life.

" My dear child," Mr. Sayles- said, gravely
and tenderly, "what is it? What can possibly
have grieved you so? Has that intolerable
woman been putting the finishing touches to her
silliness?"

"O Jerome !" his wife sobbed out, struggling
vainly with her tears, "it is such a strange
world ! People seem really glad to discover
something that is wrong — they seem to delight
to talk it over. I don't understand anybody.

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 177

I seem to say things that are not quite true, or
at least to make people think what isn't so, you
know, when I try to make any explanations.
And I don't know what to do." The very
breadth and compass of this pitiful wail seemed
to strike her husband's ludicrous vein.

"Poor little troubled woman!" he said, in
serio-comic tones, " couldn't she make the wTorld
over to suit her ideal? Would the people be
just as stupid, and just as wicked, and just as
silly, despite all she could do? It is a great
discouraging problem at which other brains than
yours have worked, poor child, and the world
isn't righted yet."

" No," she said wearily. "It isn't that I want
to make the world over. I am not so foolish
as that ; but I want to keep a lamp trimmed and
burning in my own little corner of it, and I
seem to find it so impossible to do that."

Mr. Sayles' fun had spent itself again, and his
voice was tender and grave.

"Doesn't my wife sometimes forget that He
who made the world, and who will re-make it in
His own good time, can look after the lamps in
the little corners also; and so that she tries to
do her own little bit of a part, can not she trust
the result of her sincere doing with Him also,
without attempting to lift any of the burden that
He has promised to carry?"
12

178 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

Dell at this point slipped softly and silently
from the room, — this was one of the times
when there was no need of a third party. It
was in sentences such as these that the true
manly character of her host came to the surface
and deepened her respect for him. They were
not unusual sentiments coming from his lips, —
there was nothing in them to surprise Dell, —
she had never known Mr. Sayles before grace
had wrought its change in his heart and life.
Dr. and Mrs. Douglass often looked on in silent
astonishment at the transformation of this once
frivolous, worse than useless, life. But to Dell
her host had never been other than the earnest,
faithful, working Christian that she saw him
now7. So she went out from them and left them
alone. She had often done so before — some-
times with an unconscious touch of sadness in
the act, when the thought came home to her
with special force that there were times when
all her dearest friends were sufficient to each
other, and that she really wTas not needed any-
where. There was none of that feeling on the
evening in question. She wTent out and stood
on the piazza, and as the low murmur of Mr.
and Mrs. Sayles' voices came to her from time
to time, she bestowed sundry little loving pats
on a letter in her pocket, and thought, with a
..happy smile, of one place where she really was
particularly needed.

WISE* AND OTHERWISE. 179

Well, this family were particularly busy dur-
ing the next few days getting the minister moved.
Jane worked with untiring energy and patience.
Was it to prove her penitence, or was it an out-
burst of her satisfaction over the turn of affairs ?
Her mistress chose to think the former.

Mrs. Arnold's tongue was busy also. Her
new idea fairly haunted her. She gave it utter-
ance wherever she went, until Mr. Tresevant
found, much to his surprise, that he was a mar-
tyr to principle. In truth, the poor man had
been thinking, ever since he came to himself,
that he teas a martyr to his wife, or his temper,
or something. He actually shivered when he
paused long enough in his work of packing to
look around his beautiful rooms, beautiful even
in their confused and partially dismantled con-
dition, and remembered for what he was leaving
them. But when this new phase of the case
came to his ears, after a little bewildering turn-
ing over of the matter in his own mind, he
accepted the situation ; and twenty-four hours
thereafter you would really have found it diffi-
cult to convince him that his main, nay, his sole
reason for all this bustle was not because of cer-
tain new ideas of his in regard to mingling with
and gaining influence over that special class of
beings who frequent hotels.

There was a general calming down in the

180 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

Sayles household after the bustle of removal
was over, and things had settled into their
proper places. Not one of the loyal hearts
said, aloud, " How nice it is to have them gone,"
but Dr. Douglass and his wife came oftener and
stayed longer, and Mr. Sayles' tones took on a
light-heartedness that his wife had missed, and
Jane was the very personification of beaming
satisfaction.

The first Sabbath thereafter was beautiful with
summer glory. The Regent Street Church was
duly filled with worshipers, among them Mr.
Sayles' family. Dell's face was unusually grave.
In truth, Dell's heart was sad during these days.
Into the joy and brightness that had come to
crown her life there had crept a solemn sense
of her unfitness, of the standing still that there
had been about the summer, of the little that she
had done for the Master, beside the much that
she had intended. Happy she had been, joy-
ous ; but, it seemed to her, not helpful. She
tried to give attention to the sermon. Indeed,
it was the solemn ring of the text that had set
her heart to throbbing out its sense of unprofit-
ableness. "This one thing I do," announced
the preacher, and Dell's heart had murmured,
"Ah, no; I don't. I profess to. ' Before God
and men I have pronounced it the one great
thing, before which all others must give way,

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 181

in which till others must be absorbed; yet in
my life 1 have said, f There are a hundred things
of equal importance. I will do them first.'"

Very sadly, very hambly, she realized this as
her position with God — a person of many aims,
many excellent intentions ; working out very few
of them ; working out none of them with the sin-
gleness of heart and life which characterized the
noble old hero who had made those words of his
the aim of his life. But there was that in Delfs
nature which always made a quick rebound.
She lingered but a little in the valley — "for-
getting the things which are behind," said the
hero of old. Could she do better than to fol-
low his words? Behind her were shortcomings
and neglects. Being sorry because of them,
bringing her sorrow to the great Burden-bearer,
could she do better than to put it from her now
and gird on the armor anew ? Such at least was
her nature. So she turned her thoughts to the
sermon, if, perchance, that would give her a
fresh impetus ; but, alas ! the preacher of the
present day occupied his precious half hour of
time in glorifying that grand old saint who had
been in heaven for hundreds and hundreds of
years, and needed not the poor little crown of
laurel that earthly eloquence could weave for
him —he who had won the crown of glory in
his Father's house so many, many years ! If

182 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

\

only the preacher of to-day would use Paul's
words, as surely he would have wished them
used, as incentives to present higher life and
holier attainments, leaving him to rest in his
blessed heaven, how useful could he he ! But
Mr. Tresevant went back over the life of Saint
Paul, reveled in it, waxed eloquent over it,
stopping not once to ask, "Brother Christian,
are you striving thus to live?"

Dell presently gave up her effort to follow
out the sermon. It was a grand life, it was
worthy of eulogy ; but her heart sought for
something that morning which would lift her
personally nearer to the great Source of all
such holy living; so she went back to the text,
"This one thinsr I cl°-" Couldn't she make
this her motto? This wonderful man that the
preacher was exalting to such a pinnacle of
glory had himself sobbed out, "For the good
that I would, I do not; but the evil which I
would not, that I do."

" Oh, wretched man that I am ! who shall de-
liver me from the body of this death?" Not a
word said Mr. Tresevant of this. His hero for
the clay had gone up above the clouds and storms.
Pie did not sound like a man, rather like soiug
powerful angel ; but someway it comforted Dell's
sin-stained heart to go back to those words of
pitiful confession — "the good that I would, I

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 183

do not." Here, at least, she and Paul the sin-
ner met on common ground. And she remem-
bered, just then, with a thrill of thanksgiving,
that the same voice had exclaimed, in triumph, "I
can do all things through Christ which strength-
eneth me." He had conquered, not through
wondrous human strength, but through Christ
■ — her Christ, not Paul's alone, but hers. Could
not she conquer too? nay, could she not make
bold to reach after and lay hold of these very
words : "This one thing I do," " I press toward
the mark " ? Working, pressing, struggling on !
Beaching out right and left for those about him
to come too ; that was St. Paul's life. "Through
Christ which strengthened him." So it came to
pass that before Mr. Tresevant had completed
his funeral eulogy over the glorified saint, there
had been born into Dell's heart a new desire and
purpose, a new determination to do with her
might "Whatsoever." "I'll take that for my
motto," she said, eagerly. " ' Whatsoever.'
Then it will be in Christ's hands, and he will
bring it to pass."

CHAPTER XVI.

" He giveth wisdom unto the wise."

Carrying out this thought of her one-word
motto through the singing of the closing hvran,
which, by the way, was a funeral one, in honor
of Paul's eighteen hundred years in heaven —

" Servant of God, well done,
Rest from thy loved employ,"

Dell cast about in her mind for the particular
form that her "Whatsoever" should take that
day. There was a young man in the mill, one
in whom she knew Jim Forbes was deeply in-
terested. He had asked her, weeks ago, to pray
for that young man, and she remembered, with
a blush of shame, in what a fitful, uncertain way
she had done so ; and not a word had she ever
spoken to him about this great "One thing,"
although he occupied Mr. Sayles' seat, exactly
behind them. During the benediction her heart
put up a prayer for strength and help, for a
" word in season " to speak to John Howland ;

184

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 185

for she had quite resolved upon trying to speak
to him. Full of this thought she turned to find
him the moment the "Amen " was spoken. She
had her sentence ready. The text had so im-
pressed her, that she felt like using its words,
instead of her own. She wanted to say some-
thing very simple and brief, }ret something that
wTould evince her earnest interest in his welfare.

" John," she meant to say, "won't you try to
find this ' One thing?'"

Behold ! No John Howland was there. In-
tent upon her errand, she had almost spoken
his name before she had discovered that he was
not in his accustomed place. Instead, she came
face to face with Mr. Merrill, a }'oung man whom
she knew but slightly — a confidential clerk in
one of the large mercantile houses. A very well
educated, very well dressed, very unexception-
able young man ; quite unlike John Howland.
Instinctively she held out her hand to him, as
she had meant to do to John. As this was an
unexpected courtesy, he received it with height-
ened color and marked pleasure. Then, during
the brief conversation that followed, Dell's heart
and conscience kept up an undercurrent after
this wise : " Mr. Merrill is not a Christian. His
6oul is as precious as John Howland's. Why
should I not speak my little word to him ? But
[ am so very slightly acquainted with him.

186 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

What of that? I am sufficiently acquainted to

ask after the health of his body. I have jvist
done so. Is the sonl of less importance? It
will seem so very strange to him. But that will
do no harm. I am not trying for what people
will think of me. Perhaps he will think I am
trying to interest him in myself, and take this
method. How very absurd ! Is it so strange
a thing for a Christian to earnestly desire the
conversion of a sonl? If it is, then its strange-
ness should be my shame. Oh, I wish John
Howland were here. I wonder where he »s?
My heart was set on speaking just a word tc
him to-day. Perhaps my Saviour has deter-
mined that Mr. Merrill should be my opportunity
to-day. Anyway, he is certainly my 'Whatso-
ever.' He is the only one near me who is not a
professor of religion."

Very rapidly these thoughts traveled through
her brain. This conversation was carried on
while she was saying with her lip's, as they
walked down the aisle, "Yes, it was a beautiful
day." "Yes, she thought the congregation un-
usually large." "No, she did not like the an-
them. She thought it too operatic in style to
be suited to a church service." Almost at the
door. In another moment he would have made
his parting bow, and her " Whatsoever " would
be left undone. This was the undercurrent

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 187

again. Her lips were in the midst of the sen-
tence, " I do not know just how long I shall re-
main in Newton." She broke off at the word
"just," and said, suddenly, "Mr. Merrill," in
a tone of such iHimistakable earnestness and
eagerness, that he waited, wondering much,
alter he had pronounced his bland, encourag-
ing, "Well?"

" Did you notice the text particularly, to-
day?"

"The text? Let me see. Yes, 1 recall it.
The theme was very finely handled, was it not?"

There was no answer to this question. In-
stead, Dell said, in lowered tones, but with that
unmistakable ring of sincere, heartfelt earnest-
ness about them, —

" Well, do you know I wish with all my heart
that you would seek after that f One thing?'"

Mr. Merrill was unutterably astonished. Ke
had been to a Christian Church Sabbath after
Sabbath for years and years, yet this was ac-
tually the first time since his boyhood that he
had any recollection of a personal address upon
this subject. Christian }'oung ladies he was ac-
quainted with by the score. He often walked
to the corner, and sometimes further with them,
carrying their hymn books, or parasols, if the
day chanced to be cloudy, and they had proper
decorous conversation together about the " fine

188 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

tones of Mr. Tresevant's voice," or "what an
excellent reader be was," or "bow appropriate
bis sermon was to this particular time of year,"
or "what an exquisitely solemn anthem the choir
opened with this morning," but never once,
" Mr. Merrill, are you a Christian ? " or " Won't
you be a Christian ? " never, certainly, a trem-
ulously earnest, "I wish with all my heart that
you would seek after the f One thing.'"

Mr. Merrill's conversational powers were
good. It was a most unnatural thing for him to
hesitate over a reply, or fail of a prompt and
proper wording in what be wished to say. But
this particular occasion was unexpected and
overwhelming. He looked at the earnest, in-
quiring eyes raised to bis, and remained abso-
lutely silent. He did not even say " Good-
morning" as they reached the outer door and
Dell turned toward the Sabbath-school room.
He just simply lifted his bat and bowed low,
and with unusual gravity.

"Well," Deli said, looking after him for a
moment, "be is offended, I think. Perhaps it
isn't strange. I am very abrupt. If I could
do things as Abbic can. I believe I am always
doing what poor Jim sa}~s of himself, f making
a muddle.' Ah, now, I don't mean to carry
my own burdens to-day. I said my word. I
believe my Master wailed for me to say it. If

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 18S

I blundered in the manner, I am sorry, and will
ask Iliin to make my manner of no moment and
to use the word to his glory ; then, 'forgetting
the things which are behind,' surely I may for-
get the blunders, too, after I have asked the
Lord to blot them out. It would be foolish to
keep piling them up before me, for my heart to
gaze at, after that."

Be it particularly remembered that after this
attempt at "doing" Dell kept to her own room
and prayed much for Mr. Merrill — ail that day.
For (said she) , if "faith without works is dead,"
surely works without faith must be also.

"Why, where is Dell?" Mr. Sayles asked,
suddenly, on the following Tuesday evening,
pausing in the midst of conversation, as he sud-
denly remembered that he had been at home for
an hour and had not seen that member of the
household.

"She is in her room, and has been all the af-
ternoon," his wife answered. "I went up to
call on her once, but she was so exceedingly
quiet that T concluded she was either writing or
asleep, and did not disturb her. The afternoon
mail brought her very bulky letters, and I fancy
she has been particularly engaged. But she haa
been hermit long enough. I've half a mind to
call her."

At wThich point Dell came in.

190 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"We were just about to disband and go in
search of you," Mr. Sayles said, rising to givo
her a scat. "Have you found the solitude of
your room especially delightful, or has it been
peopled with unseen forms?" This in a gay,
half bantering tone. Then, gravely, as he
caught a glimpse of her face, " Is anything the
matter, Dell?"

"Nothing so very serious, and yet nothing
very cheering," Dell said, trying to laugh, but
looking rather pale and worn. "If you will
read aloud this letter from Uncle Edward you
will know all about it at once, and better than I
can tell you."

Mr. Sayles took the letter somewhat hesi-
tatingly, and Dell slipped into a quiet corner
and shaded her eyes from the light. Thus the
letter ran : —

" Boston, August 21, 18—.

"Dear Child: — Isn't your visit rather
lengthy? It seems long to us since you went
away. Stili, I am glad that you arc away from
Boston during the heated term, and that you are
with friends whom, * having not seen, we love.'
Your Aunt Laura says that Abbie of yours is in
every way delightful." ("She is evidently a
woman of sense," interpolated Mr. Sayles, with-
out raising his eyes, and in precisely the same
tone of voice as that in which he was reading.)

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 191

"Remember me to Mr. Sayles, and tell turn I
look forward joj'fully to the pleasure of long
pleasant hours spent with him when we meet in
heaven. I met your class for half an hour after
school last Sabbath. There were many in-
quiries after you. Thomas Jones bade me tell
you when I wrote that he had fully decided for
Christ, and Henry Wilson, true to his more diffi-
dent nature, murmured low, f I think — I am not
perfect^ sure, but I think you may say the same
for me.' Both these lads took part in our Young
People's Meeting last evening, and both referred
to 'their dear teacher' as being instrumental in
leading their, feet into this way. They are both
thoroughly in earnest. The King has greatly
honored you, dear child. You will be glad to
hear that I also have my crumb of encourage-
ment. My poor old Jonas, after many stum-
blings back into the mire of drunkenness and
misery, has at last had his feet firmly planted
on the f Rock of Ages.' Joy to him henceforth,
so I firmly believe. Isn't it a blessed religion?
Isn't he a blessed Saviour, who from his heights
in glory can reach down a loving, pitying, help-
ing hand even to such as Jonas, and raise him
up?

"What news concerning your Jenny Adams?
Your Aunt Laura's class have been remember-
ing her this week. We are waiting for the

192 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

privilege of rejoicing with you over another
name in the Book of Life. I am glad but not
surprised to hear of young Forbes' steady prog-
ress and successes — the Lord takes care of his
own. My thoughts have been much on that
verse during this past week. f The Lord know-
eth them that are his.' Aye, he certainly does.
Can anything be more comforting, especially
when we remember it in the light of all the
wonderful and glorious promises that come
trooping forward for those who are his children ?
Oh, by the way, Mr. Henderson has taken his
place permanently in the Sunday-school and
prayer-meeting. That is a triumph over Satau
that it seems to me must startle him. The con-
test has been long and fierce, but the Lord has
power to save.

" And now, dear child, that all the good and
pleasant things are told, I have something not so
pleasant as we view these things. It is precious
to me to remember that the dear Lord knows
and has arranged the apparently uncomfortable
things of this life with the same loving kindness
that ordered the manifest blessings. To be
brief and plain then. Yesterday, you know, 1
was called a millionaire — to-day I am a poor
man, so suddenly do our changes come to us.
You will wish to know all the details, but the
story is so intricate that I would fain leave it

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 11)3

until we can talk it over face to face. It is not
an unusual experience — many a man has been
called upon to pass through it. The bitter drop
in the cup is, that one man in whom we placet1
the most important trust has been tempted and
has fallen. That is poor Warner. I know this
will grieve you to the heart, as well as surprise
you greatly, even as it has us. But, remember,
dear child, that his provocation was very great,
and we tempted him perhaps more than mortal
could endure. You know he had charge of our
immense business, and we had unlimited confi-
dence in him. I have neither space nor heart
in which to tell you the man's sad, pitiful story ;
but I know 3Tour Christian charity will try to
think the best of him, and that you will not cease
to pray for him and his poor young wife. About
our plans, of course we yield up everything,
and begin life afresh. You will wonder at the
want of foresight which placed so heavy a busi-
ness in the hands of one man, but there are
other complications that have been suffered for
some good wise reason unknown to us to come
upon us at the same time, so that it is not all
poor Warner's fault. Fire and flood and ship-
wreck have come upon us in the last two months
— none of these could he help. God only
knows how I pity him. Only think, Dell, what
his burden is compared with ours !

194 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Well, to return to ourselves again. We
have already engaged good, comfortable board,
pretty well up town, and your Aunt Laura is se-
lecting from the household the necessary articles
to take with us. We arc not in absolute pov-
erty, you understand, such as has overwhelmed
many a family during the last trying year ; but
we have 'where to lay our heads,' and 'where-
withal to be clothed.' The business men of the
city have come grandly to my help, offering to
do many noble things, but your aunt and I both
judged it the nearest right to bear the burden
so far as we could alone ; at the same time it
has been blessed to have our friends rally around
us with such ready hearts and hands. And
now, my dear daughter, I do not know that I
need waste time and words in saying to you
what you thoroughly know and feel, that our
home is as much }rour home as ever — not so
pretty in its outward adorning, but just as rich
in its wrealth of love. If I were writing to one
less used to life, and less acquainted with her
uncle, I should have to be more careful, more
explicit in my explanations ; but I am glad to
remember that you will understand me. Re-
member, I have strong arms and a steady brain,
and therefore am thoroughly prepared for any
special strain. There will be much to talk over
with you when you come. I think I know your

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 195

heart well enough to know it will be soon. We
seem to be in special need of you. Your Aunt
Laura said to-day that she missed you at every
turn. I hope this news will reach you through
me instead of through the papers. It isn't pleas-
ant to hear of personal matters through a third
party. There is more to say, but time and sp:ice
will permit only this — keep up a brave heart,
daughter ; do not allow yourself to be sorrowful
over-much. Remember, that

" • God is God my darling,

Of the night as well as the day,
And we feel and know that we can go
Wherever he leads the way.'

If you feel like coming before a letter can reach
us, telegraph, that I may meet you. I need not
exhort you to pray much during these first hours
of surprise. It is a blessed help. Your Aunt
Laura and I have felt it in all its fullness. Sho
will add a line to this lengthy letter.

"As ever, Uncle Edward."

"P. S. Dear Darling Child : — Edward has
said it all, and more too. What a long letter !
Come home, dear, as soon as you can consis-
tently. We need you very much. In all oui
bewilderment over the suddenness of the trial
we havdtfound time to rejoice with heartfelt joy
over the thought that it is only money, not dis-

196 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

honor to overwhelm us. Poor Mrs. Warner?
that indeed must be hard to bear. Not death
— our precious circle is unbroken ; so our pray-
ers are still thanksgiving. Edward is calling j
I must go. Good-night, darling.

"Aun:" Laura.'

CHAPTER XVII.

" How do ye say, we are wise, and the law of the Lord is with
lis?"

"Horace C. Merrill," Mrs. Tresevant said,
reading from a card which a servant had just
brought her. " Who is he, Carroll ? "

"He is a young man who attends our church
— clerk in one of the stores, I believe, or some-
thing of that sort."

"Well, he is down stairs waiting to see you,
and I wish he were in Texas. I'm all ready to
go to Mrs. Roberts' to call, and I presume he
will stay an hour."

There were special reasons why the minister
desired to call on Mrs. Roberts that afternoon,
so he answered in no very soothing tone, —

"If it hadn't taken you such an age to dress,
Laura, we might have been gone some time ago."

"Of course it is my fault," Mrs. Tresevant
answered, in a tone intended to be suggestive
of resigned martyrdom. "Things ahcays are my
fault __ only I should like to know how soon you
expect a lady to dress ; it is hardly two hours

117

198 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

since dinner. There is no necessity for Mr.
Merrill spending the afternoon, I presume.
Can't you tell him that you have an engage-
ment?"

" No," said Mr. Tresevant, coldly, "I can not,
for the simple reason that it would not be true."

" Really, I should like to know why ? Haven't
you made an engagement with me?"

"Oh, as to that, I have an enslavement with
you most of the time. I should never he ready
to see people, if I took such into consideration."
With which parting remark Mr. Tresevant de-
scended to the parlor, in no very amiable frame
of mind, to meet Mr. Merrill. Perhaps, not-
withstanding his attempt to be cordial, some-
thing of his feeling crept into his manner — at
least the two gentlemen did not get on well to-
gether,— and after the stereotyped preliminary
remarks had been made, conversation flagged
miserably. They exhausted the weather, the
new boarding-house, the last lecture, given so
long ago that it was surprising how they ever
wandered back to it. Finally they returned to
the weather again, and both insisted that it was
a perfect day, that no weather in all the annals
of August could have been more lovely, so much
pleasanter than yesterday, they both declared ;
and then both earnestly hoped that "it" would
continue through to-morrow.

WISE AND OTHERWISE. li)iJ

"Grand weather for a walk," Mr. Tresevant
said at last, with a desperate disregard of cour-
tesy. " Mrs. Tresevant and I have arranged for
a walk to Mrs. Roberts' this afternoon. She
has a lovely place, you know."

"Yes," Mr. Merrill assented, absently; then
rousing, "No, he did not know. He had not
the pleasure of Mrs. Roberts' acquaintance."

What could be the matter with Mr. Merrill?
Under ordinary circumstances, his fine sense of
propriety would have taken the alarm at the
very faintest suspicion of a previous engage-
ment,— nay, under ordinary circumstances, he
would not have been there at all ; still he stayed
unaccountably.

"Did Mr. Tresevant approve of the last postal
regulations ? " he asked, with as deep an appear-
ance of anxiety as if he had been Postmaster
General and Mr. Tresevant President of the
United States.

"Very much, indeed," that gentleman an-
swered, with very questionable grammar, think-
ing meantime of the state of mind that his wife
was probably indulging at that moment.

At last Mr. Merrill seemed to resolve upon
coming in some degree to himself, and he said,
with visible embarrassment, but yet with more
genuine dignity than had before appeared, —

"Mr. Tresevant, I hope I do not take your

200 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

time from any more important matter this after-
noon, but I think I am in need of your assist-
anee."

"Yes," said Mr. Tresevant, hesitatingly,
trying to smile, but still thinking of his waiting
wife up stairs ; thinking also, "What a nuisance !
He wants some miserable Latin jargon trans-
lated, I presume. These aspiring young men
are always after things of that sort, and they
take up time fearfully. Why couldn't he have
made his errand known in the first place?"
Then he waited in unsympathizing silence.

" Mr. Tresevant," the young man said again,
this time with visible brightening of color, "I
am trying to walk in a newr path, and I am
somewhat in the dark. I need your help.'*

Utterly misunderstanding him, Mr. Tresevant
said, in half sarcastic pleasantry, —

"That is rather ambiguous language, there
are so many paths in this world. If you will
enlighten me as to the one to which you refer,
I will endeavor to aid you if I can."

"It is not of this world," Mr. Merrill an-
swered, with great earnestness. "I am trying
to learn how to follow Christ, and I am making
very stumbling work of it."

Mr. Tresevant was unutterably astonished.
True, he had been praying morning and even-
ing, in public and in private, for just this thing,

WISE AND OTHEKWISE. 201

that the Lord would bless his truth to the sal-
vation of some soul ; but it appeared, from the
unbounded amazement with which he received
this announcement, that the probability of hav-
ing his petitions in this regard answered had
not once occurred to him. But he was more
than astonished — he was thrilled to the very
center of his heart. Full of faults as this man
was, many and seemingly endless as were the
mistakes that he made on every side, I yet de-
clare to you that his heart was in the right place,
that it thrilled and throbbed with unutterable
joy over the blessed surprise.

You have before discovered that he was a
man who generally acted from impulse. His
impulse at this moment led him to rise from his
seat, cross to Mr. Merrill's side, grasp his hand
and say, eagerly, —

"My dear friend, I can not tell you what a
pleasure it is to hear you say this. How can I
help you?"

And the evident embarrassment which had
until this fettered Mr. Merrill, shrank away be-
fore this exhibition of earnest interest and thank-
fulness. He spoke promptly and to the point.

"I hardly know how to explain myself, sir.
As I said, I am in the dark. I have always been
an intellectual believer in the religion of Jesus
Christ ; but I never felt my need of a personal

202 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

salvation, nor the absurdity of my position in
not seeking it, until last Sabbath, when my at-
tention was called to the subject."

"In church?" interrupted Mr. Tresevant.

"Yes, sir, in church. Since that time my
mind has been more or less occupied with this
theme, and I resolved to begin life anew ; but
I find it is not so easy a thing as I had sup-
posed."

"Wherein lies the difficulty?"

'"That is more than I know. It is what I am
seeking to have explained. As I tell you, I am
an intellectual believer, therefore the absurdity
of my not being more than that became appar-
ent to me as soon as I gave the subject serious
thought. I have been reading my Bible and
praying at stated times for several days, but,
after all, I do not see that I am really any dif-
ferent. I have felt no mysterious change such
as I supposed I should, and I do not find that I
have materially different views from what I had
before. I am puzzled and disappointed, and I
concluded to come to you as the person best cal-
culated to set me right."

Now during this sentence the demon of Mr.
Tresevant's life had come upon him again. He
was not in special anxiety about this young man ;
he recognized in him one not far from the king-
dom perhaps — whether he reached it at once,

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 203

or a few hours later, after some stumblings, did
not seem to the clergyman of special importance.
At any rate, he left the matter in hand and went
back to himself. He had not heard a dozen
words of all that Mr. Merrill had been trying to
explain to him. His thoughts were very much
after this fashion : "Last Sabbath at church. I
wonder if it were at morning or evening: service.
It must have been morning, I think ; that was
an intellectual sermon, calculated to impress a
person of clear mind, as this young man un-
doubtedly is. The reason why there are so few
conversions at the present day is because the peo-
ple are such clods that they will not understand
or appreciate. If one had people of culture to
preach to how much he might accomplish. I've
caught this young man, anyway, and he is quite
a prominent one. I'll take courage ; but I must
discover, if possible, what particular portion of
the sermon impressed him most." At this point
in his thoughts he became aware that Mr. Mer-
rill had ceased talking and was regarding him
earnestly. Not being conscious that the young
man's words needed an answer, of course they
received noue ; instead, he said, with some
eagerness, —

"Do you refer to the morning or evening ser-
vice as the time when your thoughts were led to
this subject?"

204 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"The morning service," Mr. Merrill answered
briefly, and in disappointed tones.

"I thought so. I observed you, I think, as
a very attentive listener ; and the sermon was
one calculated to reach a person of intellect.
Now may I ask what particular portion of the
sermon it was that particularly arrested your at-
tention? You will pardon the question, for we
clergymen are obliged to discover, if we can,
just when and how our arrows reach the heart,
that we may be governed by the knowledge in
other cases."

Mr. Merrill was visible embarrassed. He
twisted the first finder of his ^love into a small
cord, and looked ruefully down upon it before
he finally answered, —

" I considered your sermon last Sabbath very
impressive, sir, and I was deeply interested in
it ; but I cannot say it was that which led me to
give personal attention to this subject."

" Oh," said Mr. Tresevant, in great and visi-
ble disappointment. "Would it be allowable
for me to inquire what it was, then, that im-
pressed you ? "

"The next glove finger underwent the twist-
ing process, but Mr. Merrill answered more
promptly than before, —

" It was merely a brief sentence which a mem-
ber of your congregation addressed to mo as we

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 205

were passing out of church. It had to do with
my personal need of the great r One thing' of
which you had been speaking."

Poor Mr. Tresevant ! Don't judge him too
harshly when I tell you that he was bitterly,
overwhelmingly disappointed. His elaborate
sermon, on which he had bestowed nearly a week
ox' patient study and careful writing, had inter-
ested this young man indeed — he was kind
enough to admit that ; but it was a chance word
spoken by some person as he or she passed out
of church that had done the work. He distinct-
ly remembered seeing this gentleman pass down
the aisle in conversation with Dell Bronson. He
had no difficulty in connecting her with the
"chance word." He said to himself, w7ith un-
reasoning bitterness, that that girl wTas always
crossing his path, coming between him and his
legitimate work ; for his part, he wTas tired of
her, and wished she would go home. What
had become of the heart that a few moments
before was in the right place? It was there
still. He wTas heartily and sincerely glad that
this young man had decided the great question
of life; but he wanted — oh, so much — to be
the instrument. He felt it as his right. The
feeling was not altogether wrong — at least, it
had its springs from the right source. Some-
times he had reflected sadly over an unfruitful

206 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

ministry, very rarely blaming himself, it is true ;
yet there had been times when he had gone about
sorrowfully, seeking fruit and rinding none, and
his heart had been heavy over the barrenness.
He had hailed this young man as the first fruits
of an incoming season, after long waiting ; and
although it was a joy to know that here was
fruit, it was bitter to be made to understand that
it was not of his tending. Meantime, he entire-
ly ignored the fact that the soul was not yet
garnered, but was groping about wearily in dark-
ness. He almost forgot the presence of the
waiting soul, and fell into a moody silence,
from which he presently roused himself with a
long-drawn sigh and a solemn, —

" Well, I am certainly glad to welcome y ou to
our side. We need men, young men, especially.
Our ranks are comparatively few. I give you
joy that you have chosen the right way. You
will not regret it."

This sentence sounded so very much like a
courteous dismissal, that his caller instinctively
arose, but remained standing irresolute. He
had come searching for light and help ; he could
not realize that he had received either

"Have you a word of instruction for me, sir?'*
he asked with a sort of eager humility. "You
remember I told you I was in the dark, and a
great deal bewildered. "

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 207

Now, be it remembered that his pastor had
been engaged in a private self-glorification while
the young man had been explaining his position,
and therefore must answer in the dark, albeit it
was a darkness he did not eomprehend. He
thought he fully understood the case.

{r Oh, I know how it is with young converts,"
he said, smiling. "They want to run before
they can walk. You need simply to move
quietly along in the path of duty, and bewilder-
ing things will grow plain to you in time."

And he, too, had risen, and stood in that at
titude of courteous waiting which says, as dis
tinctly as words, "I perceive, my dear sir, that
you are about to depart, and I am, therefore,
ready to bid you f good-afternoon.'"

So Mr. Merrill departed, having received a
gentlemanly invitation to call again, whenever
his pastor could be of any service. As he went
down the shady side of the street, he felt very
little, indeed, like a young convert. Indeed,
he told himself that he believed he had been a
fool for going there at all . What had he gained ?
Perhaps the whole thing was folly, anyway, and
humbug. No, not that ; because father was in
heaven, and mother was going thither with cer-
tain footsteps ; and, besides, that young lady,
Miss Bronson, was thoroughly and solemnly in
earnest. But it was very bewildering, and he
did not know which wav to turn.

208 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

Mr. Tresevant watched him from the door In
an absent sort of way, still busy with his own
gloomy thoughts, until presently he turned and
went very slowly, very reluctantly, up stairs to
his waiting wife. Her state of mind had not im-
proved during his absence. She did not even
wait for him to close the door before she spoke.

"I must say, Mr. Tresevant, that you are a
remarkably considerate man. Here have I been
sitting for nearly an hour with my hat on, ready
to go out."

"What would you have me do?" Mr. Trese-
vant answered, coldly. "When a gentleman
calls to see me I can not very well say to him,
* You must go home ; my wife has her hat on,
waiting for me.'"

" Oh, no ; of course you can do nothing but
make sport of my inconvenience. It is no sort
of consequence how long I am kept waiting."

Mr. Tresevant was in no mood to bear unjust
censure. His tone was decided in its sharpness.

"Do, Laura, make use of a little common
sense ! How on earth can I help it that you
have been kept waiting? I certainly am not
going to send a gentleman home when he calls
to see me, merely because we are ready to make
calls, especially when he comes on a particular
errand."

"What was his errand?" Mrs. Tresevant

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 209

questioned, in a somewhat mollified tone, curi-
osity and the hope of a wedding getting the bet-
ter of her ill-humor. "Is he going to be mar-
ried?"

" Not that I know of. He is going to try to
lead a Christian life."

" Can't he do that without taking up the whole
of your afternoon, I should like to know?"

This in a woefully fretful, disappointed tone.

The pastor of the Regent Street Church
paused in his gloomy walk up and down the
room, and gave his wife the benefit of a very
stern look, as he said, in very stern tones, —

"Mrs. Tresevant, do you realize upon what
subject you are speaking in such tones of indif-
ference, or worse?"

Richly deserved rebuke ! But a looker-on
could not have helped wondering if the clergy-
man realized in what spirit he was uttering it.
As for the half-awed, half-frightened, thorough-
ly fretted child-wife, she flung herself among
the cushions of the couch, regardless for once
of the fair roses blossoming- on her hat, and
burst into tears.
14

CHAPTER XVIII.

" For by -wise counsel thou shalt make thy "war."

They held a family mass meeting in the back
parlor that evening. At least they called them-
selves the family. Dr. Douglass and his wife
were there ; so also were Mr. and Mrs. Aleck
Tyndall. Abbie sat beside Dell on the low
couch near the south window ; while the host
alternately, paced the floor, and pausing, leaned
his elbow on the mantel and his head on his
hand. As in many a gathering heretofore, Mrs.
Dr. Douglass had for some time been chief speak-
er. At this particular moment she closed her
harangue with the telling sentence, —

"I certainly think it the queerest, not to say
the most absurd, scheme that I ever heard of."

"Not even excepting your own proceedings,
when you became book-keeper in a box-fac-
tory?" her husband questioned, gravely.

"No, indeed — I'll not except that ; the po-
sition of book-keeper in a box-factory is, after
all, very different from t.lv» on^, that Dell pro-
poses."

WISE AKD OTHERWISE. 211

"That's just the point," Dell said, with ani-
mation. "It's because people draw such won-
derfully line shades of distinction, that 1 feel
possessed to overturn some of them, or, at least,
ignore them for myself."

"But I don't feel fully convinced as to the oc-
casion for such a proceeding," Dr. Douglass
said, in his grave, measured tones. "You wish,
of course, to assist your uncle. I understand
and appreciate that point; but are there not
better ways of doing it — for you, I mean, not
for every one. For instance, haven't you a
special talent to use?"

"Music, you mean, of course," Dell said,
eagerly. "Yes, I think I have talent in that
direction. Whether it is to use just now is
another question. I'll take Boston as an illus-
tration. I could secure a music class of twenty-
four there in less than as many hours ; first,
because of my uncle's former position, and,
secondly, because the people in our circle know
that I can both play and sing. I am a more
skillful player and a much better singer than
Miss Wheeler, for instance. She is one of a
dozen or more poor music teachers, with whom
1 am acquainted, who are struggling to earn a
living in that way. Now, I'm not a whit better
teacher than any of them — in fact, it isn't in
the least likely that I am as good as they, be-

212 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

cause they have been trained to that work, and
I haven't; but I should draw my twenty-four
scholars from some or all of their classes, there-
by making their miserable incomes smaller.
And there are reasons " (this with a deepening
of the scarlet on her cheek) "why I should not
continue in the position long when once assumed ;
therefore, I should only aid my uncle by sup-
porting myself — a thing which I believe I can
do in a way which will not detract from any
other person's means of support."

"Very well put," Dr. Douglass said, with a
grave smile. "I withdraw my suggestion in
regard to the use of the talent."

"There are other places in the world besides
Boston," Mr. Aleck Tyndall remarked.

"And other occupations besides teaching
music," Abbie added, — she had nothing to say
on that point, having occasion to know that the
objection which applied to Boston would apply
with equal force to Newton ; but still she had
her word of demur.

"Your education fits you for a teacher of any
branch that is open to ladies."

"Oh, yes," Dell said, with increased anima-
tion, ,PI am undoubtedly fitted to teach any
branch that ever grew. Mrs. Tyndall, how
many applicants did }7ou say your husband had
listened to in one week in regard to that vacant

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 213

"Seventeen," Airs. Tyndall answered, laugh-
ing ; and Dell turned a serio-comic face towaru
Abbie, and said, in tragic tones, —

"Would you have me the eighteenth? Oh,
I tell you the world is full of ? unprotected fe-
males,' who are ready to rush into any school-
room that will open. I'm not one of them. I
really don't feel qualified to teach, because it"
would be martyrdom to me. I would much
rather be keeper in a state prison. It's a woeful
idea, that because a woman has nothing else
with which to support herself, and knows how
to read and write, she can therefore teach."

"Amen!" Mr. Sayles said, emphatically.
"Essie shall never go to school to a teacher
who has not been called to the work from the
love of it."

" She will never go then," laughed Mrs. Doug-
lass. "I don't believe there is such a teacher
extant."

" Oh, yes, there is, Julia," her husband grave-
ly interposed. "I know some faithful teachers
who are as much called to the work as a clergy-
man is to the pulpit."

"So do I," Dell said, emphatically. "The
only trouble is, I'm not one of them, — the most
I could hope to do would be to pray not to hate
it."

"Why don't you follow my illustrious exau>

214 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

pie, and rptire to the seclusion of a box-factory,
or something of that sort?" Mrs. Tyndall ques-
tioned, gayly.

"Mrs. Douglass has hinted at the reason,"
Dell explained. "Even that, Mrs. Tyndall, is
for some mysterious cause considered more
proper, more in keeping with appearances,
than to take charge of somebody's commodious,
well-arranged kitchen, and cook nice, wholesome
dinners for respectable people. I don't pretend
to explain the f wherefore ' in the case ; but you
all know it is so."

At this point, while the company at large were
ensrasred in an easier discussion in regard to cer-
tain of the above statements, Dell and her host-
ess indulged in a little aside conversation.

"I wouldn't feel as I do — only it is so un-
necessary a proceeding," Mrs. Sayles said, in
reproachful tones. "Dell, I really thought you
had more confidence in me."

Whereupon Dell laughed. "My dear child,"
she said, "I really thought you had more sense."
Then seriously, "Dear Abbie, let me tell you
about my confidence in you. If I were sick, or
blind or lame, or in any way disabled from doing
for myself, I would, in case my Uncle Edward
could not care for me, turn to you and your hus-
band, and receive gladly and gratefully your
help in any way that I needed it, and thank God

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 215

joyfully that I had such friends ; but I am nei-
ther lame nor blind. On the contrary, I have
splendid health and strength. Is there any rea-
son on earth why I should not use them for my
own support?"

Abbic's sweet, sound common-sense told her
reluctant heart that there was not; so, not
choosing to make any audible answer, she let
her voice drop still lower, and asked, "What
would Mr. Nelson say to such a strange idea?"

The rich blood mounted in waves to Dell's
forehead, but her answer, if answer it could be
called, was prompt and bright. " You don't
know7 Mr. Nelson ; one of these days you will,
I hope — then you will need no reply to that
question."

"Ah, but Dell, there are two sides to every
question. Why should we jostle against peo-
ple's prejudices? Why should you, for in-
stance, looking forward to being a clergyman's
wife, place yourself in a position that might in
certain places and with certain people injure
your influence?"

"Theoretically," said Dell gravely, "I do not
believe in jostling against people's prejudices
unless some good is to be accomplished by doing
so ; practically, I confess that I enjoy doing it
when I have a remarkably good chance. But
theory will bear me out in this case. You have

tl6 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

touched upon one of the main reasons why I
want to do this unusual thing. I want to reach
the level of this class of persons. I want your
cook, when I have a talk with her about her
duties and her trials, to understand that I know
precisely what I am talking about. Depend
upon it, she thinks, when you talk with her,
that it is the same as if an angel direct from one
of the stars tried to appreciate the trials of
smoky chimneys and burned lingers. I want
to be able to say, f I know all about it, Jane.
I've done it — not for myself, but in that harder
place, for other people.' As for the prejudices,
I think they need running against unmercifully."

The clamor of voices at the other end of the
room grew louder. Above them all finally
arose Mr. Sayles' tones, appealing to Dell, —

"Miss Dell ! Listen to me. You are called
to the front ; stand forward and acquit yourself.
This metaphysical doctor of ours is given to
probing things — he wants to hear you in youi
own words explain, if you can, why this is a
serious, common-sense resolution, and not a
quixotic idea, to be repented of to-morrow?"

During this sentence the doctor tried to enter
a disclaimer, but fiuding himself outvoiced,
folded his arms in smiling silence.

" Well," Dell said, with animation , " I shall be
delighted to have the floor. I am really burn-

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 217

ing to make a speech. I know half this audience
are looking upon me as a martyr, and the other
half think me a goose. I don't believe I'm
either. I want to tell you just how it is. Dur
ing the next six months or so, I propose to earn
my living. I think I have fairly disposed of the
musical question."

She paused, with an inquiring look bent on
Dr. Douglass, who, still smiling, bowed in si-
lence.

"And the teaching?" Dell said, still inquir-
ingly.

"Yes, and the teaching," Mrs. Tyndall an-
swered, promptly. "For Jerome said Essie
shouldn't be sent to you, and our Sadie shan't.
And there are no other children worth speaking
of."

"Then," said Dell, gayly, "what remains?
The needle ! I hate the very sight of one ; and,
besides, the world is full of genteel people who
are starving over that weapon — fuller, if pos-
sible, than it is of musical professors and school
ma'ams. The doctor spoke about talents awhile
ago. Now, I honestly think I have another be-
sides music. I know how to cook ; I don't dis-
like to ; 1 don't think there is nearly as much
drudgery about it as there is in teaching. That
is, you understand, there wouldn't be to me,
with my tastes. In thinking about my special

218 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

talent; for this sort of work, I was led to inquire
narrowly into the feeling that apparently closed
that door upon me. I found it had its rise in
the popular idea that such sorts of work arc de-
grading. Why, in the name of common sense,
people should have such ideas, I don't pretend
to say. But the kitchen with its belongings is
the only department of labor open to us, that
does not seem to be overcrowded to an alarming
degree, and in that there is an alarming dearth.
I don't believe I ever spent two hours in com-
pany with two married ladies in my life that they
didn't during that time deplore the lack of good
help." Whereupon Mrs. Douglass and Mrs.
Tyndall exchanged shrugs and glances, and their
respective husbands laughed.

"Now, I'm not at all sure that I should like
to be a cook all my life, any more than I should
like to be a music teacher ; but I do feel certain
that there is nothing degrading in the position,
and I am very anxious to prove it. I don't ex-
pect to reform the world, but I want to help en-
lighten my special corner of it. I want to know
by personal experience what are the special
trials of that class of humanity known as 'help.'
I want to understand how many of the peculiar
trials might be overcome by patient, persevering
effort on the part of those who are called to en-
dure. Then, in my future life, whenever I come '

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 219

in contact with a girl of the right stamp, who is
trying to earn a genteel living by penning her-
self up in an ill-ventilated school-room, or starv-
ing over a needle, I shall be able to advise her
to try what I did."

"Or not to try it," Mr. Aleck Tyndall said,
pointedly, "in case your experiment fails."

"Or not to try it — yes, sir. I accept your
amendment. I confess that at present it is but
a pet theory of mine, and I am very anxious to
subject it to the crucible of personal experience."

"Have you a place in view?" Mr. Sayles
asked, with imperturbable face. "I might write
you a character or two."

The company, with the exception of Abbie,
received this question with great merriment.
She looked grave and perplexed.

"Abbie is disturbed," said Mrs. Tyndall, still
laughing, "lest Dell might go to Mrs. .Roberts',
for instance, to try her experiment, in which
case it might be necessary to invite both 'mis-
tress and maid' to her tea parties."

"No," said Dell, with an emphatic shake of
the head. "I will be too wise for that. I shall
not go to Mrs. Roberts' or Mrs. anybody else
who has heard of me before. I'm not £oin£ to
play, but to work in genuine earnest."

"But, Dell, you are goiug to experiment in
Newton, are you not?"

220 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

" Not a bit of it ! What sort of f earnest
would there be about that? It would be looked
upon as a new scheme for amusement or excite-
ment, and I should be the subject of a nine-days'
talk, and accomplish nothing. I'm going out
on the strength of the abilities I possess, not on
the strength of the position that I have occu-
pied."

There had been during the last few momenta
a visible lightening of Dr. Douglass' face ; he
spoke now in clear, strong tones :

"The question is, can we be of practical as-
sistance ? "

"I knew the doctor would get something
practical in presently," said Mr. Sayles. "He
has been unpractical a long time for him."

"I do need your assistance," Dell said, a
shade of anxiety creeping for the first time into
ner voice, — "the assistance of all of you. I
very much want to know whether you all disap-
prove of the scheme as unwise and objectiona-
ble. But, before you answer me, I ought to
tell you that I have another hope in regard to
it — the hope of doing another kind of work ; a
quiet, little special work for Christ in a field
that is sadly unreachable now." Her voice was
so sweetly earnest and serious that it was im-
possible to answer her other than in serious
words. Dr. Douglass was first :

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 221

WI want to make haste to say that now that I
begin to understand the scheme in all its bear-
ings, I appreciate, respect, and honor the one
who proposed it."

The shade on Dell's face visibly lightened.
To be appreciated, respected and honored by
Dr. Douglass was no small thinsr. The com-
pany were disbanded suddenly after that. A
messenger came in haste for Dr. Douglass, and
the Tyndalls grew shocked at the lateness of
the hour, and hurried homeward.

"She is a grand girl," Mr. Tyndall said, as
they walked down the quiet street. " But,
after all, Frank, I don't think her plan requires
any more moral courage than it took for you to
become a shop-girl."

"It requires more Christianity," Mrs. Tyndall
said, with feeling. "I had no such motive as
hers. O Aleck, that is what I admire so
much in this girl — the looking ahead for work
— Christian work — in unsought places."

CHAPTER XIX.

" Great men are not always wise."

Mrs. Roberts furnished each of her guests
with a huge palm leaf, and took one herself,
though in her cool, dark parlor such precaution
seemed almost unnecessary. Mrs. Tresevant
looked particularly cool and bright and bewitch-
ing in her blue silk robes and her ravishing: bon-
net. Mrs. Roberts was voluble at all times —
particularly so to-day. She had a special object
in view.

"Now, my dear Mr. Tresevant, I hope you
will be good and obliging, and not spoil all my
pretty plans. I have not talked them over with
a person except my particular friend, Mrs. Ar-
nold, and she and I really planned it together;
but I said to her, f Don't breathe a word of this
for the world until we have consulted Mr. Tres-
evant. Of course it is perfectly fitting that we
should get his opinion, and we do not want to
talk over matters of this kind until they have
been subjected to his approval.'"

222

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 223

Wily Mrs. Roberts ! Her husband was a
lawyer ; but did he ever put a case more skill-
fully than this? So different this from the way
in which they had managed that absurd old folks'
supper that he quenched. Mrs. Roberts' pastor
felt smilingly complacent. It would be diffi-
cult in his present mood to combat anything.

" I have no doubt but that your scheme is very
fascinating," he said, with utmost suavitj' of
manner. " By all means let u& have the benefit
of it."

But Mrs. Roberts was not yet ready to put
the question.

"It does seem so pleasant to have you speak
in that way," she said, with enthusiasm. "The
truth is, we have not been used to that sort of
thing. Dear Dr. Muiford was a blessed man.
We loved the very ground he trod on. Oh, he
was almost perfect." (N. B. Let it be partic-
ularly remembered that this view of the case
would have astonished Dr. Muiford, he never
having the slightest reason to suspect that Mrs.
Roberts gave him credit for even an ordinary
amount of common sense.) "But, then, who
among us but makes mistakes occasionally?
The doctor, poor man, did not understand how
to unbend from his dignified height for the ben-
efit of the lambs of his flock. He thought they
ought all to be satisfied with strong meat. Now

224 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

I think that children and young people need oc-
casional diversion, and we older people should
lay aside our more intellectual preferences once
in a while for their benefit. Don'i you think
so, Mr. Tresevant?"

Yes ; Mr. Tresevant assented, marching into
the gracefully laid net with all the alacrity that
the famous historical fly could possibly have
shown after the spider's courteous invitation.
Certainly he believed in a reasonable amount of
recreation ; and Mrs. Tresevant, on beiug per-
sonally appealed to, assured her hostess that she
thought prim young ladies who never needed
amusement were perfectly unendurable. And
as her hostess had no means of knowing that
her pastor's wife made this remark for the ben-
efit of her own husband, because he had told
her not two hours before that Miss Dell Bron-
son had sources of amusement within herself,
went off into an ecstasy of delight over their
united wisdom and good sense.

" Such a comfort to hear you say so ! Dr.
Mulford— Well, the fact is, Dr. Mulford was
a middle-aged man. To be sure, the poor man
was not to blame for growing old, but then some
people did manage to retain their 3'outhful feel-
ings even after they had gray hairs ; but that
was our dear pastor's one mistake. He could
not enter into the feelings of the young people

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 225

— he frowned upon every idea that hadn't a
prayer-meeting for its foundation. No one
could feel worse than I did when he left us ;
but I told Mrs. Arnold at the time that I was
willing to be sacrificed myself if it would ben-
eiit our young people."

There are scores of persons in this world who
are perfectly willing to be sacrificed on the altar
of young people's amusements.

"I am 6-o glad," repeated Mrs. Roberts, "that
we have a clergyman who is liberal in his ideas

— who has kept up with the times, you know,
and understands the needs of the present gen-
eration. It is quite a relief to us, I assure you.
I can not tell you how much we appreciate it."

Now if there was anything in this world that
Mr. Tresevant coveted, it was to be unlike Dr.
Mulford. The man had endured much, you
must remember, in having to hear, with unfail-
ing pertinacity, wherever he went, the same old
story of Dr. Mulford's perfections. Perhaps
he could have borne the story better had he
been awaie of the fact that Dr. Mulford's thorns
in the flesh were the ones who talked the loud-
est now. But it must be admitted that to the
present pastor's rasped human nature it was a
positive relief to hear of some of his imperfec-
tions occasionally. When Mrs. Roberts paused
for breath, he again suggested his question :
15

226 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"What are your present plans, Mrs. Roberts ?"

"Oh, nothing formidable at all — only just a
quite little gathering of the young people here
in my own house. Only I am going to make it
of use to the church. My idea is that young
people ought to be taught to cultivate berfevo-
lence, at the same time that they are enjoying
themselves ; so I am going to have the guests
all dress in character, and have the entire even-
ing an acted out game of forfeits."

" I don't quite understand," said the perplexed
minister.

"Don't you? These theologians live so far
up in the clouds that they can't be expected to
comprehend such foolish little matters. Why,
you see, we will give the gentlemen the privi-
lege of guessing as many times as they please
who the different characters are — only, for every
mistake that they make, they must pay a forfeit
of ten cents, and if they guess aright the one thus
discovered must pay the forfeit."

"And are the guessers expected to judge from
the style of dress and the conversation ? "

"Oh, no, the dress is necessarily quite sim-
ilar, you know, and the conversation — well,
that might assist materially in some cases ; only
people have a right to feign a style that is for-
eign to their own, you know ; and, indeed, it is
half the fun to see how well this can be accom-

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 227

piished. I think the tone of the voice is what
generally betrays. Don't you, Mrs. Trese-
vant?"

More and more mystified grew the minister.
This was certainly new business to him. He
ventured on further inquiries.

" I am very dull to-day, I fancy ; but I really
do not get the idea. Do I understand that these
young people are expected to assume the dress
and manner of historic characters of past gener-
ations, and that lookers-on are to ascertain by
their own knowledge of history, and by the de-
gree of excellence with which the characters are
sustained, who are the persons thus repre-
sented ? "

" Oh, dear, no ! But what a delightful idea,
Mr. Tresevant. Quite original, I am sure. I
never even thought of such a plan. We really
must get up a party in that way ; it would be so
improving to the mind as well as entertaining
— quite a review of one's education. Don't you
think it would be delightful, Mrs. Tresevant?
I mean to speak to Mrs. Arnold about it this
very evening; she is an excellent person to
manage such affairs. But about this party of
mine, Mr. Tresevant, your wife understands it,
I am sure. Why, you see, the young people all
wear some pretty little disguise until supper
time, and you just have to guess by your wita
who thev nre."

228 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

" Masks ? " queried Mr. Tresevant, in a voice
of such undisguised dismay, that Mrs. Roberts
grew twice as voluble.

" Well, yes, I suppose that is the proper name
for them, though if you were Dr. Mulford I
should really be afraid to use the word. The
poor dear man had such a horror of it. I ven-
tured to mention the idea of a masquerade party
to h«m at one time — quite innocently on my
part, I assure you. I supposed, of course, he
understood what people in our circle meant by
such terms ; but you would have been amused
at the result. Why, the dear old gentleman
was perfectly horrified. I'm sure I don't know
what he thought a masquerade party in a lady's
private parlor was — something very like a circus
I should imagine from the horror he exhibited.
I was s(j amused. But, of course, I dropped
the whole matter at once. I respected even my
pastor's ignorance too thoroughly to do anything
of which he disapproved. ' Let it go,' I said to
my friend, Mrs. Arnold. 'We must remember
that Dr. Mulford is getting to be an old man.
We cannot expect him perhaps to be equal to
present needs and customs. One of these days
we will have a younger pastor, one who will
enter h( •irtily into our plans and views for the
young. Until then let us be silent and patient. '"
And Mr \ Roberts folded her white hands and sat

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 229

back with an air of resignation that would have
been beautiful to behold, provided one were far
enough advanced in the knowledge of present
needs and customs to realize in all its fullness
that private masquerade parties were to be the
salvation of the young people.

The poor fly in the net wTas struggling. He
bad a wholesome horror of masquerades, but he
bad a greater horror of being like Dr. Mulford.
And Mrs. Roberts had such a peculiar way of
stating things. What in the world led her to
be so certain that he would favor her schemes?
While he was hesitating and trying to deter-
mine what to say, Mrs. Tresevant said it for
bim. She had not been to a gathering of the
sort since she was a gay young girl in her
father's house. She should be delighted to
come ; it would seem so like old times.

Mr. Tresevant roused himself. Was it pos-
sible that they were expected to grace this scene
with their presence ? He commenced his sen-
tence somewhat hesitatingly, "Mrs. Roberts ; "
but Mrs. Roberts did not like the expression on
his face. She was not ready to have him speak
yet, so she was conveniently deaf and very vol-
ublo.

rf it will be such a delight to have our pastor
and his wife mingle with the young people.
That is just as it should be. How can wc ex-

230 WISE AND OTHERWISE

pect to mold our young people to our wishes
and control their exuberant spirits if we stand
aloof from them, and look severely on all their
innocent pleasures ? That is what I was always
telling Dr. Mulford ; and if they had left the
poor man to be guided by his own common
sense I really think he would have done better ;
but, my dear Mrs. Tresevant, don't you know
there are always two or three people in a church
who are bent on marking out a path for their
pastor and bidding him walk in it?"

Mrs. Tresevant answered with considerable
asperity. Yes, indeed, she did know it — knew
it by personal experience. She thought the
Eegent Street Church had its share of just such
persons.

"It certainly had," Mrs. Roberts repeated,
with a solemn shake of her head. "And very
annoying it must be to a clergyman's family.
For her part she never could understand how
folks dared to interfere so constantly with what
did not concern them. But, of course, the only
way for sensible people to do, that is, for people
w7ho were strong enough to have minds of their
own, was to move quietly on in their own way,
and let the agitators fume."

Then she turned sweetly to Mr. Tresevant.
She had decided to let him speak.

"We would like to have our gathering on

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 231

Tuesday of next week, if that meets your ap-
proval. Is there any reason why you would
prefer another evening?"

" It is the evening of the young people's
meeting," Mr. Tresevant answered, in doubtful
tones.

Mrs. Roberts hastened to atone.

" Oh, surely ! How very stupid in me not to
think of that 4 You see I have no young people
of my own to attend the meeting, or my memory
would be better. Of course we will change it.
Could you look in on Wednesday evening then?
Of course we wouldn't hope to keep you very
long, but long enough for the children to under-
stand that you are interested in their sports as
well as in everything else that pertains to them.
You can't think how glad I am that you are
coming. I really must tell you, aside from the
pleasure, it is a little bit of a triumph to me.
Mrs. Arnold was almost certain you wouldn't.
f He has been boarding with some of our most
rigid extremists,' she said to me, 'and has been
thrown a great deal in their set, so nothing
would be more natural than that his ideas should
be colored by them.' But I said emphatically,
'Mr. Tresevant is not a man to be led against
his will. Now, you mark my words, he will do
just as he pleases, without regard to the preju-
dices of other people ; and he will please to do

232 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

what will aid him in gaining an influence over
the younger portion of his flock.' Will Wed-
nesday evening suit you, Mr. Tresevant?"

"Yes," said Mr. Tresevant, promptly, and
with decision in his tones. "I see no objection
to that evening."

Mr. Tresevant had decided that he was not to
be governed by the opinions of the Sayles clique
in this matter. He had a perfect right to do just
as he pleased, and he should.

CRAPTEK XX.

" The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple."

Mr. Merrill did Dot go to the Thursday
evening prayer-meeting as he had intended.
When the Sabbath came he even thought he
would not go to church. What's the use? h
asked himself, wearily. In truth he was almosi
worn out with this long struggle with his own

© CO

heart, which he did not in the least understand.
Mr. Tresevant had missed him from the prayer-
meeting ; had been surprised at first ; had half
formed the resolution to go the very next morn-
ing and call on him. In fact, he had intended
to do so, but in a multitude of engagements it
had slipped his mind ; and when he next thought
of the young man it was Saturday, and he was
v«ry busy, and someway he did not feel as much
inclined to go as he had before ; so he sat in his
study and excused himself with a soliloquy like
this : " I certainly cannot be expected to run
after the young man on Saturday ; tnat is a day
devoted to a minister's own private use — every-

234 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

body ought to understand that. Besides, 1
haven't finished my sermon. It might have
been done if Mrs. Arnold had not driven twice
as far yesterday as she engaged to do, and then
kept us waiting supper until nearly midnight.
Besides, I have to go out to tea again this even-
ing— it is quite impossible to make any calls.
That young man's impressions, I fear, were very
evanescent — impressions are apt to be that are
built on such a sandy,, foundation. I presume
he fancied himself specially interested in Miss
Dell Bronson, and mistook his interest in her
for a desire after higher things. Young gentle-
men are apt to make such mistakes. His ex-
perience was not very satisfactory, if I remem-
ber aright. Ah, well, poor fellow, I wish he
had been more interested in the subject instead
of probably expending his enthusiasm on the
person who urged it upon his attention ; at a
very inopportune time, I presume, too — people
generally do. Well, if he comes to church to-
morrow this sermon may be able to reach his
case."

Thus was Mr. Merrill's case dismissed from
his pastor's mind. He meantime had lounged
away the entire morning of the Sabbath in mis-
erable indecision on the question of going to
church. He had not decided that the whole
thing was a humbug. People with fathers and

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 235

mothers who have been earnest, faithful, con
ecientious Christians rarely come to such con-
clusions,— instead, he was in danger of that
other equally fatal blunder, of deciding that
such things were not for him, that there were
those who were not called into this way, and
for them there was no help. "No use in going
to church," he said, moodily ; and in dressing-
gown and slippers he lolled in his easy-chair ;
but the bell tolled and tolled. He tried to
drown its voice with the morning paper — no
use. Instead of reading, he counted the strokes
of the bell, and wondered if that "intolerable
sexton was going to ding-dong all day." He
tumbled over the pile of papers before him in
search of yesterday's daily, and strove to be-
come interested in the prices current ; but not
so had the father who had gone to heaven taught
him to reverence the Sabbath, — there was no
use in trying to turn away from those early
teachings. Finally, as the bell tolled on and
on, he sprang up impatiently, reached after his
boots, kicked away his slippers, and presently,
with a muttered sentence that he believed " he
was a fool for his pains," made his way speedily
down town, and mingled with the worshipers
just entering the Regent Street Church. Very
few crumbs fell to his share from the sermon
that clay. He was not in^the mood for intellec-

236 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

tual feasting ; and Mr. Tresevant's sermon was
one well calculated to feed the intellect. But
the singing and the Bible reading, — yes, the
very walls of the church, helped to awaken in
his heart that aching sense of some yearning
unsatisfied that had possessed him during the
week.

He went out from the sanctuary with a heavy
heart ; and it was the same heavy heart, the
same unsatisfied longing, that took him out later
in the day to wander aimlessly down the quiet
street, — that is, so far as his own purposes were
concerned, the wandering was aimless ; but the
eye of God saw every footstep, and directed that
they should halt before the Harvard Street Mis-
sion building, just as the scholars and teachers
were singing, " Safe in the arms of Jesus." The
melody floating out to him sounded wonderfully
sweet, and still following that aimless purpose,
or else the guidance of that All-seeing Eye, he
pushed open the door, and because the first seat
at the left was vacant, was the reason why Mr.
Merrill sat directly behind Jim Forbes and his
class that afternoon. At least, he thought that
was the reason. A very rough-looking company
had Jim Forbes gathered about him — mill boys,
every one of them restless, wriggling scamps,
who looked as though to sit still and behave
respectably were impossibilities ; yet after nil.

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 237

there was not one among their number who
looked so hopelessly forlorn as Jim Forbes
could remember himself to have looked on that
Sabbath not so many years ago when he first
became a pupil of Dell Bronson. Jim knew
all about it, but Mr. Merrill had no conception
of any such state of existence; instead, he
looked upon the finely-formed, strongly-built,
neatly-dressed man before him, and said to
himself, " That's a fine looking fellow. What
a set of ragamuffins he has about him ! How
does he manage them, I wonder?" And then
he set himself about discovering how this Avas
done. A thing not so easy to do; for really
after the lesson was fairly commenced the man-
agement, if there was any, was carried on in-
visibly. The vagabonds actually seemed to be
interested ; they asked questions, and expressed
their views with a heartiness and freedom that
wculd have startled and shocked many a teacher
less familiar with their type of human nature.

'f How do you happen to understand them so
well, Forbes?" Mr. Sayles, the superintendent,
had asked him one Sabbath after the class had
dispersed.

"I've been there myself, sir," Forbes had an-
swered, with a sort of grimness of tone, and
yet with a happy smile ; the tone in memory
of that dark and desolate past — the smile in
token of the fact that he was there no more.

238 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

When the lesson closed the bell struck for
the five minutes of personal work. Mr. Mer-
rill did not understand what this meant, and
looked on curiously. It meant simply that the
teacher who had some special thought to impress
upon his entire class took this opportunity for
such work ; or the teacher who had a word of
private conversation with any member of his
class, had, if he were a skillful teacher, so man-
aged matters that that particular scholar occu-
pied the seat beside himself, somewhat isolated
from the rest of the class. This five minutes
was understood by all the pupils as being sol-
emn time ; and it was a matter of honor with
all not being personally addressed to sit with
eyes fixed on their open Bibles. There was a
certain Johnny Thompson with whom Jim
Forbes was anxious to have a word that day,
and Johnny occupied the seat beside him, and
precisely in front of Mr. Merrill. That gen-
tleman looked on in surprise to see the five
ragamuffins gravely and decorously open their
Bibles. Presently, however, his attention was
arrested by the voices directly before him.
"Now, Johnny, what have you to tell me?"
"Nothing very nice," Johnny said, looking
down forlornly at the toes gaping through his
worn boot. "Tve tried ail the week, prayed a
lot, read the Bible a lot more, but 'tain't of any

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 239

use. Fm exactly the same old fellow I always
was."

Mr. Merrill was startled, and brought sud-
denly back to his own weary experience. Here
it was precisely — told, perhaps, in more home-
ly language than he would have expressed it,
but the very same story.

"I know all about that," his teacher said, im-
pressively. " I did just so. Now, Johnny, we
haven't much time, so you just answer me two
or three questions, will you? You honestly
want to be a Christian, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." There was no doubting the
emphasis.

" You believe that Jesus Christ can take care
of you, don't you?"

"'Course he can," said Johnny, not in rude
ness, but with quiet positiveness.

"Well, then, don't you think it's about time
you let him?"

" I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you? Why, you see, you've been all
the week waiting for him to make you into a
different fellow. You've prayed a lot, you say
— you've read your Bible — and then you have
waited for Jesus to come and show you what a
wonderful boy you have got to be. You
wouldn't treat Mr. Sayles so, would }rou ? Sup-
pose you loved Mr. Sayles very much."

240 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Us fellows all do," interpolated Johnny.

" I know it ; you have reason to. Now we'll
say you want to prove it. You believe he thinks
a great deal of you, and }rou want to do just as
he says. He has given you plain rules to fol-
low ; but instead of following them, going about
the work that he wants done, you sit down to-
morrow in a dark corner of the mill, and you
fold your hands and say, * I ought to be a dif-
ferent fellow. I want to be. I want to do just
as Mr. Sayles tells us to. I think a great deal
of him. I want to work for him.' All the
time, mind you, you are sitting with your hands
folded during working hours. Do you suppose
if Mr. Sayles should come along, and you should
begin to tell him how much you thought of him,
and how ready you were to do anything just as
he said, that he could believe you were in earn-
est while you sat there wasting his time ? "

That Johnny understood the figure was evi-
dent from his earnestly put question, —

"What had I ought to do?"

"Everything that Jesus gives you to do.
Don't wait for him to make you into a different
boy. He may not choose to show you how
different you are, but he'll give you something
to do, there's no doubt about that — give you
something to bear, most likely, for his sake.
Very likely he wants you to show the boys who

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 241

work next to you that you can get along with-
out being mad when they plague you, that you
can keep from throwing mud at Tommy Green
when he throws mud at you, and in all these
ways yon will discover what a different fellow
you are."

The superintendent's bell rang, and all conver-
sation instantly ceased. Jim Forbes sat back
with folded arms, and during Mr. Sayles' ques-
tions wondered somewhat sadly if he had made
the matter any plainer to Johnny. His teaching
seemed to him, to use his favorite phrase, a
muddle. He knew what he wanted to say, but
he never seemed to himself to be successful in
saying it. However, he resolved upon taking
home some of his own advice. He would work
as well as talk. He would keep an eye on
Johnny during the week. He would perhaps
be able to show him little things that Christ
would have him do to prove the love in his
heart.

Meantime, into the heart of the young man
fitting within the sound of Jim's humble teach-
ings there had burst a great flood of light. As
in a glass he saw his own picture reflected.
This, then, was what he had been doing. Pray
ing, reading his Bible, then sitting with folded
bands waiting for Christ to show him how dif-
ferent he was — not willing, as this young man
16

242 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

had said, to let Jesus take care of him ; but de-
termined to be shown just how wonderful that
care and love were, resolved upon not taking
another step until the Master had signified his
joy over such weak and feeble efforts as had
been made. Duties? Plenty of them — and
he had shirked them all, covering up his delin-
quencies with the miserable plea that he didn't
feel any different — that it was all darkness —
that, in short, as Johnny had expressed it, he
was " the same old fellow still." Very distinct-
ly he realized that he had expected to be taken
almost bodily and lifted up to some green and
flowery mount, where it would be a delight to
step, and where every breath would be fragrant
with peace. For all this he had waited —
waited and given no token of decision, of change
of purpose, change of aims. Nay, there had
been no decision — he realized that also ; he had
simply waited. Twenty-six years of utter in-
difference to this entire subject, five or six days
of restlessness and unhappiness, a half-formed
resolve, and then the looking for and expecting
i sudden and entire revolution of his nature,
and because he did not feel it a sudden revul-
sion of feeling, an indignant resolve to give the
whole matter up, a vague feeling that in some
way he had been wronged, and that as a sort of
revenge he would have nothing more to do wiio

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 243

this matter. Such he felt was the story of his
life, and great shame and humiliation over-
whelmed him as he saw his own strange, unrea-
sonable conduct.

Those who knew Mr. Merrill, and wondered
at his presence in the school, wondered also at
the rich full tones with which he joined in the
closing hymn, —

'Just as I am, without one plea,

But that thy blood was shed for me

And that thou bidst nio come to thee,
O Lamb of God, I come."

They would have wondered still more could thev
have looked into his heart and seen the solemn
resolve that accompanied the words of consecra-
tion. Straight home from the Harvard Street
Mission went Mr. Merrill — home and to his
own room, locked his door, knelt beside the
chair where he had so listlessly lounged but a
few hours before, and in solemn, deliberate
tones said, "'Just as I am, without one plea,
but that thou bidst me come to thee,' O Christ,
I come. Henceforth give me darkness or light,
joy or disquietude — only accept my service and
direct my steps anywhere that thou wouldst
have me go." Long he knelt there ; but his
prayer, sometimes voiceless, sometimes find in 2

244 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

utterance, was simply a repetition of this act of
entire self-surrender, without counting the cost
or groping about for an immediate crown. And
yet it came — came as it often does, suddenly,
unexpectedly, that crown of joy. He felt it
thrill every nerve of his new-born soul.

"I wish," he said, moving about the room
with that strange thrill of gladness pervading
him ; "I wish I could tell Johnny how it is —
that the Lord takes care of us just as soon as we
will let him, and gives us the fullness of his love
besides/'

He went to the Regent Street prayer-meeting
that evening. It was held for half an hour be-
fore church service. He found some work to
do there — it was only to repeat again those lines
that were so wonderful to him : —

" Just as I am, without one plea,

But that thy blood was shed for me,
And that thou birtst me come to thee,
O Lamb of God, I come."

But Mr. Merrill wiii never know, until it is
revealed to him in the light of a blessed eter-
nity, how powerful for good were those simple
lines that he repeated in prayer-meeting that
evening.

Mr. Tresevant walked the floor of his study

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 245

after service that evening in a tremor of satis-
faction.

"I knew," he said to himself, exultingly,
"that that sermon would reach his case. He
4as a very brilliant intellect."

CHAPTER XXI.

"The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but he that hark*
eneth unto counsel is wise."

,f I don't believe a word of the nonsense," Mr.
Saylcs said, in a tone that was very irate for
him. " It is just some abominable gossip. I'm
sick of gossip, anyway. I wish you ladies had
some other business to take up."

They were spending the evening, he and his
wife, with Mr. and Mrs. Aleck Tyndall. Mrs.
Tyndall laughed goocl-humoredly, having no
tendencies toward that employment herself, and
being aware that Mr. Sayles knew it, she was
not disturbed by ths doubtful compliment.

"I wish you gentlemen would so conduct
yourselves that we wouldn't have so much of it
to do," she retorted, with a mimicry of his tone.
"But about this matter. I am really afraid it
is more than gossip. Mrs. Roberts herself told
me that, both he and Mrs. Tresevant had prom-
ised to come. She called on me this afternoon,
a thing she rarely does, and I am afraid it wa8

34*

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 247

for the express purpose of giving me this bit of
news. She kindly expressed sympathy with the
dismay that I tried not to show, and assured me
that she was perfectly surprised herself; that,
although she, of course, considered such amuse-
ments perfectly legitimate for young people,
still at the same time it was rather queer to think
of a clergyman mingling with them. Now she
would hardly have said all that without some
foundation, would she?"

"There's no telling what that woman may or
may not say," Mr. Sayles responded, still in
evident ill-humor. " What such women were
created for is sometimes a puzzle to me. Tyn-
dall, do you really suppose the man is going to
a masked ball?"

" O Jerome ! — not quite so bad as that." It
was still Mrs. Tyndail's voice that answered
him, Mr. Tyndall remaining absolutely silent.
"It is a private party to be held at her house,
and she assured me that there would be no
dancing until after Mr. Tresevant left. Not
that she had the least idea of his objecting to it,
she said; but for the purpose of avoiding talk
she thought we ought to try to shield our min-
ister's reputation, even though he were a little
careless himself."

"Yes!" said Mr. Sayles, with a sarcastic
drawl ; " she is a very discreet and considerate
woman, no r?nr?V>t- of H "

248 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Is there nothing that can be done?" Mrs.
Sa}*les asked, speaking for the first time, and
speaking as she generally did, very simply and
to the point.

" I'm sure I don't know what," growled her
husband. "If he were a silly boy, who could
be shut up for twenty-four hours, and fed on
bread and water, there might be some hope of
him."

" O Jerome ! " his wife said, in a tone full of
distress.

He turned toward her suddenly.

"I know I am not respectful, my dear; but
the man puts me utterly out of patience some-
times."

"He is our pastor," Mrs. Sayles said, gently.

"Yes," he answered, promptly, "and I should
remember it. Well, has anybody something to
suggest ? "

" It must be that he has been misled as to the
nature of the gathering," Mr. Tyndall said.

" Or has simply accepted the invitation with-
out inquiring into the matter, or realizing that
it is other than an ordinary evening gathering,"
his wife added.

"Then let us take that view of the case for
granted, and have a straightforward talk with
him about it. If he has misunderstood, he will
thank somebody for information."

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 249

"Suppose you call ou him to-morrow, and
L/tf e the straightforward talk," suggested Mrs.
Tyndall, with a gleam of mischief in her eye.

Mr. Sayles shrugged his shoulders expres-
sively.

" There couldn't be a worse individual than
myself selected for such delicate matters," he
said. "My wife knows just how I blunder.
Never did succeed well in conversation with
Mr. Tresevant when he was an inmate of our
house. We always ran against snags. I'm in-
clined to think that the very sight of me puts
him on the defensive."

"Send Abbie, then," said Mrs. Tyndall.

To this Mrs. Sayles answered, emphatically, —

" No, not a bit of it. Abbie had her full share
of that sort of thing while they were with us.
She and Mrs. Tresevant are too utterly unlike
to assimilate enough to be of any benefit to each
other ; and it is probably Mrs. Tresevant who
is at the bottom of this new idea."

"There seems to be nobody to go," laughed
Mrs. Tyndall. "Jerome, you and I are too
wicked, and Abbie and Aleck are too good."

"I'll tell you what," interrupted Mr. Sayles.
"Aleck, you are just the man. Dr. Douglass
is too peppery, and besides, has had an errand
or two of a similar sort. But you have not
rome in contact with any of his peculiar ideas,

250 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

and he will be inclined to treat your opinions
with consideration. You will have to go."

"It is entirely new business to rne," Mr. Tyn-
clall said, hesitatingly, " to dictate to our pastor.
1 have been accustomed to consider it the peo-
ple's duty to receive advice from him, instead
of giving it."

"I'll risk your dictating to him," Mr. Sayles
answered, laughing. "He is not disposed to
receive anything of that sort, and is very prompt
to let you know it. No, nothing can be gained
by trying to lead him ; and, of course, it is not
our business to do so. We must just act on the
surmise or hope that he is unaware of the nature
of the entertainment in question ; and perhaps
it would be as well to let him know incidentally
what is being said by those outside the church
on the subject."

It was because of this and further conversa-
tion on the same topic that Mr. Tyndall found
himself, to his own surprise, and not a little to
his dismay, waiting the next morning in the
further parlor of Mr. Tresevant's hotel for the
descent of that gentleman. This was, as he
said, new business to him. Deeply interested
in all that pertained to the spiritual welfare of
the church as he had been since he first became
one of its members, earnest as had been his
work and his life, he still had taken very little

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 251

active part in any of its outside issues, and
shrank from doing so. It was perhaps this fact
that made him, as Mr. Sayles had said, just the
man for the occasion. The talk was on indiffer-
ent topics for some little time after Mr. Trese-
vant's appearance, until his guest, despairing
of reaching the object of his visit in any other
way, plunged into it.

"By the way, Mr. Tresevant, you are accus-
tomed to all manner of people. I suppose you
have discovered that there are some peculiar
ones in our church ; and perhaps are aware that
Mrs. Roberts is one of the number?"

Now the instant Mr. Tyndall had finished this
somewhat blundering sentence he became aware
by the change in his pastors face that he had
made a mistake ; also that Mr. Tresevant was
betler posted than himself on the nature of the
gathering in Mrs. Roberts' parlors. An inde-
scribable stiffness took the place of his former
suavity of manner, and he asked, with some
haughtiness, —

"To what do you refer?"

Straightforwardness was Mr.Tyndall's motto,
the watchword upon which he generally acted ;
and perhaps he was not sorry to be thus early
released from the domain of strategy, which he
felt that he did not understand, and thoroughly
disliked. He answered promptly and frankly, —

252 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

" I was thinking, when I spoke, what a strange
form for an entertainment given by a Christian
woman to take in these enlightened days."

Mr. Tresevant was clearly not inclined to
assist him. His answers consisted of brief and
somewhat haughtily put questions.

"Why so?"

It was certainly an easy way of carrying on
a conversation. Mr. Tyndall resolved to re-
sort to it.

"Perhaps I have been misinformed. Is she
to have a masquerade party at her house on
Wednesday evening?"

" Something of that nature, I believe. What
is the matter with masquerade parties, when
properly conducted, Mr. Tyndall?"

"When are they properly conducted?" Mr.
Tyndall asked, with a quiet smile.

" When they are given by a Christian lady in
her own private parlor for the pleasure and
profit of the young people. At least, / am
charitable enough to hope that they will be
properly conducted, until I see reason to be-
lieve to the contrary."

They were not making very rapid progress.
Mr. Tyndall was already nearly convinced that
his call was to be in vain, and felt very much in-
clined to drop the question and beat a retreat.
But there was one difficulty in the way — he had

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 253

but half displayed his own colors ; to furl them
now seemed cowardly.

" I am sorry to see our young people, espe-
cially the young people of our church and Sab-
bath-school, obliged to resort to such question-
able pleasures," he said, gently, but with the
courteous dignity of manner that was natural to
him.

" Why questionable ? " Mr. Tresevant an-
swered, with a superior smile. •

"Because unnatural, and because of their ten-
dency to foster a taste for scenes and places that
cannot be entered into without harm."

"But, my dear friend, why should the fact
that a company of merry boys and girls, all well
acquainted with each other, choose to assume a
fanciful disguise for the purpose of sharpening
the wits and enjoying the blunders of their com-
panions, be so formidable a thing?"

" Do you consider it a profitable and unharm-
ful way of spending an evening?"

"Certainly, I do," was Mr. Tresevant's
prompt answer ; and had his guest been as well
acquainted with him as were Mr. Sayles and Dr.
Douglass, he would have known that so far as
any hope of influencing his pastor now was con-
cerned, he might take his hat and depart as well
first as last. Mr. Tresevant had made a positive
statement, and to change his views, or at least

254 WISE AKD OTHERWISE.

to admit a change of views, was in his estima-
tion an absolute disgrace. But Mr. Tyndall did
not know his pastor in this respect, and besides,
he was very much astonished. Indeed, there
were several respects in which he did not know
him very well.

"You differ from most of our church in this
view. Do you not, sir?" he asked, in sur-
prise.

"Very probably," Mr. Tresevaut answered,
composedly. He did not object to differing
from people in general ; he believed himself to
be an original man. " Our church does not pro-
fess to be infallible," he added, still with that
superior smile.

"But, Mr. Tresevant, let ub understand each
other," said Mr. Tyndall, gi owing much in
earnest. " Suppose the young people of whom
you speak were not all well acquainted with
each other, — suppose they were not in a private
parlor, but in this hotel for instance, and a pro-
miscuous mashed company were mingling freely
together, what guarantee have mothers that
their daughters shall not be insulted by gross,
language such as should never greet their ears,
or commence an acquaintance that shall be life-
long in its disgrace and sorrow?"

"If }Tou descend to the domain of supposition
you can make out extraordinary cases. One can

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 255

suppose anything, you know ; and I hope you
will pardon me for saying that you have in this
instance given free range to your imagination.
/was not speaking of a promiscuous company as-
sembled in this or any other hotel, but of the
class of society that Mrs. Roberts is in the habit
of entertaining in her private parlors."

" I know, and I was speaking of the danger
of fostering a taste for questionable amusements
and questionable places. How can you be cer-
tain this very entertainment will not develop in
some innocent girl the longing for more excite-
ment of the same sort ? "

Mr. Tresevaut laughed sarcastiaclly.

"That is peculiar reasoning, is it not, Mr.
Tyndall? You are not a lawyer by profession,
I perceive. How can we be certain that every
little innocent thing we say or do may not in
some mysterious way be the means of lending
others astray? If we reason after that fashion
there will be very little left for us to occupy
ourselves in. My theory is, that if we furnish
our young people with a reasonable amount of
amusements, under our own eye, they will be
much less likely to seek for them in questiona-
ble places. "

" Would you reason in that manner in regard
to other amusements ? For instance, would yuu
advocate parlor card-tables in cider iiiat young

256 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

men shall not be tempted into gambling saloons,
and home wine drinking to lessen the fear of
their becoming drunkards, and private theatri-
cals to neutralize a taste for the theatre ? "

Mr. Tyndall's voice and manner were cool
and composed ; but there was, perhaps, a little
flash of sarcasm in his eyes. In truth, he sus-
pected his pastor's perfect sincerity, believing
him to be too sharp a man to be caught himself
in any of the traps that he was so smoothly
spreading out for his guest; but Mr. Tresevant
answered him promptly : —

" We should doubtless differ even in regard to
those things. I have often questioned whether
in many families the reins were not too tightly
drawn, thus causing a grievous rebound. But
those are not the topics under present consider-
ation, allow me to remind you."

Mr. Tyndall was rapidly losing his patience.
He did not wonder that Mr. Sayles and his pas-
tor had assumed defensive attitudes toward each
ether, if such were the style of argument in
which the latter often indulged. What teas the
use of wasting time in talking to a man who de-
clined making a single straightforward reply,
but contented himself with composedly stating
general principles in which all the Christian
world were agreed, provided one did not twist
and warp those principles to make them fit some

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 257

peculiar idea of their own. Mr. Tyndall real-
ized more fully than he had before that he at
least was not fitted for his present mission ; he
doubted if any one were.

"At leaM, Mr. Tresevant," he said, laying
aside all otrcamlocution and all prudence, " I
trust that rumor has slandered you when it re-
ports that yourself aud Mrs. Tresevant are to be
among Mrs. Roberts' guests on next Wednesday
evening."

Mr. Tresevant's race visibly darkened, and
his voice grew haughtv.

"Dame Rumor is deeply interested in my af-
fairs," he said, with emphasis. "I ought to be
thoroughly accustomed to her interference by
this time. But for once I must give her credit
for being more truthful in her reports than
usual. Mrs. Tresevant and myself have the
honor of being1 among the invited guests."

"Then will you pardon the suggestion that I
have to make — that you will think again of this
matter before you accept the invitation ? " Mr.
Tyndall had laid aside his half-annoyed tone,
and spoke earnestly and respectfully. "I know
1 am treacling upon delicate ground, and seem-
ing to interfere with personal matters ; but [
beg you to believe that such is not my design.
I remember that you are a very busy man, that
your time and thoughts are occupied with mat
17

253 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

ters entirely foreign to the one in hand, and it
would not be strange if you failed to realize the
effect that your presence at such at an entertain-
ment will be likely to produce among some of
our people. There are Christian parents in our
church who are feeling deeply in regard to this
very matter. They have withheld their consent
to their children's acceptance of this invitation,
not deeming it a wise amusement for them ; and
they are wondering whether it can be true that
their pastor is countenancing the proceeding,
and much talk is being made about it. I
thought it my duty, as one of your flock, to in-
form you of this state of things in order that the
unnecessary agitation might be suppressed and
no harm be done to any one.'

CHAPTER XXII.

" Ye are wise in Christ."

To this very earnest and not veiy wise ad-
dress Mr. Tresevant made a frigid bow.

w I am exceedingly obliged to you for your
disinterested kindness in coming to me,"' he
said, with very cold, measured words. "But
your suggestion comes too late for me to g;ive it
due consideration, as I have already passed my
word to Mrs. Roberts that I will be present at
her little entertainment, and I never break my
word. Besides it is but right that 1 should in-
form you that I never really pay any attention
to this style of gossip that is always afloat
through a town. I have found it the wisest and
pleasantest to preserve the even tenor of my
way without regard to what people may chance
to say about me. I might as well be the subject
of their tongues as any one. And really one
grows perfectly indifferent to this sort of thing
after a while — that is, if one happens to have
matters of more importance with which to oc-
cupy the mind."

260 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

Now such style of talk is particularly exasper-
ating to a sincere mind, because of the semblanco
of truth and good sense that floats provokingly
through the mass of nonsense. It sounds so al-
together reasonable and sensible for people to
be above the gossip of foolish tongues ; it is such
a different thing to give heed to the talk suffi-
ciently to be sure that you are not rolling un-
necessary stumbling-blocks In people's way ; it
is so easy a thing to set all the talk down under
the general head of gossip, and turn away from
it ill calm superiority.

Mr. TyndalPs momentary vexation had passed
away, but he began to feel grieved and hurt.

"I did not mean to trouble your ears with
foolish gossip," he said, in a constrained voice.
"I thought you understood me as referring to
some of our own people, Christian parents, who
are really in trouble, and who need your help."

" Christian parents have certainly a right to
do as they please in this matter. If they do not
see fit to give their consent to the presence of
their children at the entertainment, they have
perfect liberty to keep them away, — only, I
trust you will pardon me for saying, that they
must be willing to accord the same right of
choice to their pastor. I have been very much
m the habit of following out my own views
without regard, as I said, to the talk of any

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 261

class of people. I shall do so in this case.
While I thank you for your frankness, and
honor your motives, I will compliment you by
being equally frank, and assuring you that it is
my present intention to spend next Wednesday
evening with Mrs. Roberts. I have, as I said,
passed my word, and shall not break it, unles9
something in Providence prevents my being
present."

I presume you have all seen people who ap-
peared to be much more composed and at ease
than they really were. The truth is, Mr. Tres-
evant was in an inward fume. No sooner had
he bowed his guest from his presence, than he
tramped up and down the room like an enraged
animal in a cage. This was not his first hour
of reasoning about the subject in question. I
regret to say that he was trying to argue him-
self into a frame of mind that he was really
very far from believing. On this bewildering
and much-talked-of question of amusements, he
had supposed himself to be quite decided ; and
had not Mrs. Roberts, with her incessant repe-
tition of Dr. Mulford's name, gotten the better
oi his wisdom, there would have been no trouble
whatever. So it had been all the more provok-
ing to listen to Mr. TyndalPs arguments, and
feel that if he only chose to allow himself to do
so, he could argue with them very well ; and

262 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

yet that is not precisely just to him either.
People who are self-blinded cannot be expected
to realize their own positions ; this bewildered
man did not. He imagined that he had some-
what modified his views — that under existing
circumstances it was expedient for him to do
so ; but it was exceedingly disagreeable to be
called in question for the change.

"The contemptible nuisance ! " he said, in his
rage, "why does he want to come whining around
me, taking my time, and bothering his brains in
trying to argue with me? I wish people would
mind their own business. Such a meddling com-
munity I never conceived of before — all ema-
nating from one particular quarter, too. I
wouldn't be afraid to venture considerable that
that pattern, Mrs. Sayles, is at the bottom of
this interference."

In ordinary states of mind Mr. Tresevant was'
too much of a gentleman, and too much of a
Christian, to indulge iu such an ebullition of
wrath, — indeed, he repented of this in less than
half an hour, even though the chairs and sofas
were the only eye-witnesses of it, except, in-
deed, that never-failing, never-closing Eye,
which it is very strange we 'are all so apt to
forget, when we say, "Nobody saw me," "No-
body knows it." The clergyman went presently
to his own room, and reduced his wife to the

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 263

very borders of insanity by arguing the other
side of the question with her in a way that
would have amazed and delighted Mr. Tyndall.

"I did no sort of good," that gentleman said,
after detailing the result of his morning visit to
an interested audience in Dr. Douglass' parlor,
said audience consisting of his wife and Mr. and
Mrs. Sayles, besides their host and hostess
These six people contrived to spend many
evenings together. "In fact, I am afraid I did
positive harm. I seemed to vex him unac-
countably. It was a decided mistake, good
people, to send me on such a mission. I am
not suited for it."

"Perhaps you will kindly mention the person
who is, under existing circumstances,'*' sarcas-
tically remarked Mr. Sayles. "For my part, I
think you managed very well. I'm afraid I
should have pulled the hair of the reverend gen-
tleman, or boxed his ears, or something."

"Jerome!" murmured the soft toned, trou-
bled voice of his wife.

" Well, my dear. I mean figuratively speak-
ing, of course, — that is, I mean there would
have been a strong inward tendency in that di-
rection, which I trust I should have had the
grace to resist ; but when a gentleman conde-
scends to act like a rude boy, as our pastor evi-
dently did, there is no accounting for results."

264 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

ffNo," said Mr. Tyndall, thoughtfully; "he
was courteous in his manner, though his word?
were sometimes sharp; and I was continually
haunted with the feeling that he didn't mean
what he said."

"What a tiresome sort of world it is, any-
way ! " Mrs. Douglass said, sitting back in her
low rocker with an air of resigned despair.
"With the natural perversity of human nature,
the very people whom one would expect to be
pleased with the existing state of things, pro-
fess to be shocked ; so that in reality Mr. Tres-
evaut can not have the comfort of pleasing any-
body. Mrs. Arnold and her friends affect to
be as much astonished as anybody. f A little
bit queer in a clergyman to attend, you know.
Dear me ! I hope he won't consider it his duty
. to wTear a mask.' And then she went off into one
of her absurd laughs."

"Julia, Mr. Trcsevant would certainly con-
sider us as gossiping," her husband said,
gravely.

"It is true, though," interposed Mr. Sayles.
"I have been struck with that veiy feature to-
day ; both saints and sinners seem to be agreed
for once in their lives. Even the boys in the
factory have talked the matter over — our Sab-
bath-school boys, you know, — some of the wild-
est of the*-! growing hilarious over it, exaggera-

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 265

ting the entertainment in every possible manner,
and giving Mr. Tresevant an absurd position in
it ; some of them do it for the purpose of teasing
Forbes, and some of them actually believe every
word of it. I heard poor Forbes struggling hard
to smooth matters over, and do honor to his
pastor and the truth at the same time. And,
coming up town, Judge Wardell hailed me to
inquire if I were going to attend the orthodox
theater next wTeek, and if it were to be opened
with prayer. He said he heard our pastor was
to be prominent in the performance. The thing
is actually town talk. I never saw anything fly
around so. How could it have become so gen-
eral?"

"Mrs. Roberts and Mrs. Arnold have taken
care of that," Mrs. Tyndall said, with the air of
one who knew whereof she affirmed.

"And yet I suppose it is to conciliate those
very people that he is putting himself in this
unpleasant position," Mr. Tyndall said, indig-
nantly. "What a shame!"

Mr. Sayles shrugged his shoulders express-
ively.

" If the doctor were not at one elbow and my
wife at the other, to look unutterable things at
me, I should suggest that his object was not so
much the conciliation of one class of people as
the discomfiture of another class," he remarked,

266 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

solemnly ; and added, " But as it is, I think it
best to preserve a discreet silence."

Dr. Douglass was slowly pacing the length
of the room, apparently in deep thought. He
paused at last in front of the mantel, and lean-
ing his elbow on it, rested his head on his hand
— the old troubled attitude that his wife remem-
bered so well.

" Isn't this talk that we are having worse than
useless, provided nothing comes of it but talk?"
His voice was grave and sad.

"What on earth can come of it but talk?"
queried Mr. Sayles. "We can't order our pas-
tor what to do, and what not. We can not even
advise with him as Christian brethren, it seems ;
and it is very evident that we can't keep his ac-
tions from becoming the subject of public gossip.
What is there left to do ? "

" There is one thing," Dr. Douglass answered,
earnestly. And instantly there was a lighting
up of Mrs. Sayles' face. She had caught his
meaning.

"Yes," she said, earnestly ; "I had been think-
ing of that."

"I'll be hanged if I'm sharp enough to see it,"
Mr. Sayles said, emphatically. "What do you
propose — a strait-jacket ? "

"We can pray," Dr. Douglass said, simply
and earnestly.

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 267

A sudden silence fell on the group — evidently
but two of them had remembered that wonderful
resource always at hand. It is like the uever-
closing Eye — a power so easily forgotten. Mr.
Sayles was the first to recover himself.

"You are right, doctor,5' he said, gravely.
"It is a resource that we should have tried 6rst
of all. I, personally, am too apt to forget that
God rules in these minor matters as well as in
the great affairs of life."

"We are all too apt to forget it," the doctor
answered. "Now, dear friends, I propose we
act in this matter as become those who profess
to believe in an overruling Providence. I know
we have none of us been talking about it simply
for the sake of talking. We are till grieved.
W"e all feel that this is not for the glory of God
and the good of our dear church. We have
done what we could to prevent it, without any
apparent result. We began backward, per-
haps, as Jerome says. Now let us go to the
great Head of the Church and leave the matter
in his hands. He can prevent this thing which
seems to us so unfortunate. He has his cause
more at heart than we possibly can. It will
help us to pray for our pastor. I think, per-
haps, w7e have been remiss in our duty to him
in this respect. I have nearly an hour before
it will be necessary for me to go out pioic&aioii-

268 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

ally. I propose that we adjourn to my office4
and make it an hour of prayer. What say you
all?"

"I am heartily in accord with the idea," Mr.
Sayles said, promptly. "I propose also that
we remember to pray for ourselves, that we, or
at least I, speaking for myself, may be able to
put on more of that charity which 'hopeth all
things' and 'thinketh no evil.'"

"Aye," responded Dr. Douglass, with energy.
"I feel the need of that prayer. I am sorely
tempted in that very direction."

Then they all went to the office. There was
no embarrassment about this proceeding — it
was not a novel thing to them. These six peo-
ple had not met together so constantly to talk
over everything that concerned or interested
them without going often together to theiz com-
mon Father. The office was a cozy litt/'j rpot.
Mrs. Douglass had given free indulgence' i,n her
nice and dainty taste in fitting it up. There
was an outer office for professional awl business
calls, fitted up in business-like winner — oil-
cloth on the floor, and higb-bac*. leathern arm-
chairs, lows of book-cases oi\ either side filled
with solemn-looking medical vorks. One end
occupied with the great MViy of bottles and
boxes, shining through their glass doors ; but
an unpretending little door in one corner led

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 269

away from all this business-like dignity into
the quietest of green-carpeted, green-curtained
rooms. Into this inner office none but intimate
friends penetrated. It was here that the busy
doctor snatched his few moments of unprofes-
sional reading, or took a bit of rest on the large
old-fashioned green lounge while his wife read
to, or talked "at" him, as she sometimes termed
it. Hither also came the baby occasionally to
pull her fathers hair, or ride on his slippers, if
he happened to be so fortunate as to have gotten
them on before the office bell rang ; but what
more than anything else had consecrated this
room was the atmosphere of prayer. Many and
many a time, either alone or with his wife, or
occasionally with a professional friend, had this
Christian doctor wrestled in prayer for the pain-
racked body of some patient. Many a time had
he gone out from that room strong with a sense
of answered prayer, and the town had marveled
afterward over some wonderful cure. On the
evening in question the petitions were unusually
earnest. It certainly would have warmed Mr.
Tresevant's heart could he have heard them for
himself, his wife, his influence, his church. As
for Abbie, her heart went out toward Mrs. Rob-
erts, not only that she might not do injury to the
cause of Christ, but that she might not injure
her own soul.

270 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

wIam glad you remembered her," Mrs. Tyn-
dall said, as they talked familiarly together be-
tween the* prayers. "I believe I was feeling
too thoroughly provoked with her to remember
to pray for her, but one cannot feel so after try-
ing to pray."

The little mantel clock was striking when Mr.
Sayles concluded his prayer.

"I must go," Dr. Douglass said, as the sound
reached his ear. Thank you all. / have been
helped, whatever the Lord may see fit to send in
answer to our special pleading. Don't let us
forget to renew these petitions in our closet
prayers to-night and afterward. Julia, don't
wait for me. I fear I shall be late. Good
night, all."

And the busy doctor went his way to visit
houses where they were waiting eagerly for him,
and hung anxiously on his every look. How
blessed for them and for him that he came to
them armed with prayer I

CHAPTER XXIII.

«* Where is the wise ? Hath not God made foolish the -wisdom
of this world?"

The office bell pealed out sharply on the
night air a few nights after the prayer-meeting,
and before its tongue had ceased trembling, Dr.
Douglass was on his feet, and with a speed ac-
quired by long practice was putting himself into
a condition to answer its summons. He came
back in a very few moments and made rapid
preparations for a walk.

"Have you far to go, and what time is it?"
questioned his sleepy wife.

" It is half-past two, my dear. I am called
to Mrs. Roberts'."

"Mrs. Roberts!" she repeated in surprise,
and feeling quite awake. "What is the mat-
ter?"

"Don't know — very sick, the messenger
bftid ; but messengers are never quite sure of
anything. Go to sleep, again, Julia."

This is the way in which the vigils of that

271

272 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

weary day commenced. Very little more sleep
did Mrs. Douglass get ; she tossed restlessly on
her pillow, and remembered that it was Wed-
nesday morning that was stealing grayly into
the east, and that Wednesday evening was the
one for the masquerade, preparations for which
had gone steadily forward without drawback of
any sort. The talk had gone forward also. It
was rumored now that Mrs. Tresevant was
going to wear a cunning little mask a few min-
utes, "just for fun." But so bewildering and
contradictory had the stories grown that it was
really just as well now to believe none of them,
and so get through the time with as little un-
easiness as possible. But into the midst of the
preparations had come this sound of the office
bell, and who could tell what its import might
be? Mrs. Douglass wondered, and wearied
herself with ceaseless wondering as to what was
or was to be, and grew wider awake every mo-
ment. Presently she arose, having given over
the struggle with wakefulness, and concluded to
bend her energies toward the preparation of an
early breakfast, in hope of the possible return
of her husband. She waited to smooth and tuck
the white draperies tenderly about her sleeping
baby ; and then remembering Mrs. Eobcrts and
her wee two-year old darling, knelt down and
poured out all the anxiety of her heart for that

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 273

sick mother. The breakfast was ready early,
and waited — the coffee became cold, and was
poured out, and fresh made before the doctor
made his appearance, too hurried to talk or eat.
Between the swallows of coffee his wife managed
to learn that Mrs. Roberts was very ill, violently
so — it was impossible to tell how it would ter-
minate— there was great cause for anxiety.
Yes, she w^as conscious, and very much agitated
and alarmed, which increased the nature of her
disorder. He had sent for Dr. Wheeler to
counsel with him, and she must be certain to
send Joseph and the carriage to meet him on the
eleven-twenty train. It was quite impossible to
say when he would be at home ; he must spend
all the time he could with Mrs. Roberts, and
there were his other patients to look after. No,
he did not think there was anything that she
could do at present, except, he added with great
earnestness, "To 'pray without ceasing' for
her. She is in solemn need of that kind of
help." Thus much, and then he hurried away,
and the long day wore on. From time to time
there came wrord from the sick room: "Mrs.
Roberts was no better." "Dr. Wheeler had ar-
rived, and said everything that could be done
was being done." Later in the day the wording
was : " She is still living." But the doctor
came home no more, and it was evident that
18

274 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

hope was slowly dying out in the hearts of the
watching friends.

It was the afternoon for the ladies' prayer-
meeting, and strangely solemn that meeting was.
There was an eager fervency to the prayers that
went up to God from Mrs. Tyndall's parlor, and
the burden on all hearts was the same. Some-
thing else the people had to talk about besides
the masquerade. Those who had been jubilant
over it in a scoffing sort of way spoke of it in
hushed voices, as if even it had been suddenly
invested with a kind of solemnity ; and, indeed,
the solemnity of approaching death seemed to
hover over every action connected with Mrs.
Roberts. The day waned, and the evening long
looked forward to by the pleasure-loving young
ladies and gentlemen of Newton gloomed down
upon them with the pall of the death angel over-
shadowing their pleasure. Many walks were
taken past the mansion that they had expected
to see so brilliantly lighted ; but no one at-
tempted to ring the muffled bell, and many were
the glances up to the dimly-lighted chamber,
where the}r knew aching hearts were watching
and dreading. Nothing hopeful had come to
them for hours, and hope had well-nigh died
away. Toward the evening's close there came
a sudden summons for Mrs. Sayles. "Mrs.
Roberts wanted to see her immediately." Mr.

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 275

Sayles was engaged that evening with the other
owners of the factory, and his wife sent in for
Mr. and Mrs. Tyndall to accompany her to the
house of sorrow. So it came to pass that those
who had least expected to be guests at that
house on that particular evening were the ones
for whom the door swung softly open, and the)''
entered with noiseless footsteps and no word of
greeting. Mr. and Mrs. Tyndall waited in the
further parlor, while Mrs. Sayles obeyed the
summons to the sick room. It was the scene
oftentimes repeated, yet ever new to the aching
hearts to whom it comes. A white-faced, wan-
eyed husband, watching now eager!}', now hope-
lessly, for any change either on the face of the
wife lying among the pillows, or of the physi-
cian bending over her. There were r/.Lers
present, all in that condition of helpless wait-
ing which says so plainly, "There is nothing to
do but wait." Anions; them was Mr. Tresevant.
Those about the bedside made room and mo-
tioned Mrs. Sayles forward. As she came soft-
ly and stood looking down on the wan face so
drawn with pain, so changed in a few hours, the
sick woman's eyes unclosed and were beiu fnHy
on her. Recognizing her at once, she spoke in
a low, hurried whisper.

"I want you to pray for me. I didn't want
any of the others."

276 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

Mrs. Sayles glanced hurriedly around. Very
Lear her stood her pastor. She looked at him
hesitatingly, almost timidly. It seemed to her
so sad that she should be usurping his place —
almost his solemn right. For him it would be
difficult to tell just how he felt. "One of the
most rigid of the fanatics," he had heard Mrs.
Roberts call this woman but a few days before ;
now as she seemed to near the " valley of the
shadow" it wras to this fanatic that she turned
fur help, while he, the Christian minister, stood
unheeded by. Whether he felt the painfulness
of the position or not, Mrs. Sayles felt it for
him, and hesitated. Dr. Douglass touched her
arm, and spoke in low tones.

"Do not cross her in the least, Abbie. She
has few quiet moments ; the pulse is rising
again."

Then Mrs. Sayles dropped on her knees.
Well for her that she was in the habit of kneel-
ing in the presence of other listeners than God.
Well for her that to approach her heavenly
Father in prayer was as simple a thing to do as
to speak to an earthly friend. Very simply, as
a little child might come to some one whom it
dearly loved and trusted, ascended the low-
toned, soothing, yet earnest pleading petitions
for the sick, trembling soul before her. She
had heard enough of Mrs. Koberts' state of mind

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 277

t om time to time during the day to understand,
in a measure at least, the nature of her needs,
and these she tried to meet as simply and
briefly as possible, yet with an earnestness that
showed her solemn realization of the needs. A
long, low sigh was the sick woman's only recog-
nition of the prayer as Mrs. Sayles arose —
that, and perhaps a little steadying of the life-
current bounding through her veins. Then they
waited again in that solemn silence, the doctor
from time to time administering with difficulty
a few drops of some liquid standing near him.
Presently he left his post and went on tiptoe to
the hall, motioning Mrs. Sayles to follow him.
Mr. Tresevant also took this opportunity to
leave the room.

"I would not stay any longer if I were you,
Abbie," began the doctor. "It will only ex-
haust you unnecessarily. She will not rally
from this state for hours, if she does at nil ; and
I do not think she will need you again."

Mr. Tresevant paused before them — his usu-
ally pale face much paler now.

"Is there no hope at all, doctor?"

"It is impossible to tell," was the doctor's
answer. "If she rallies again there may be a
change for the better. I confess I see no indi-
cations of it, and have almost no hope of a
favorable result."

278 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

Mr. Trcsevant's sigh was almost as long drawn
and as sad to hear as Mrs. Roberts', had been.

"Is there nothing that I can do here?" he
asked, at length.

The doctor shook his head.

" There is nothing for any one to do but wait ;
and if she should rally, the less number about
her the better. If the other change should come
before morning, shall I send for you?"

The clergyman bowed silently. Then the
doctor went back to his patient, and they two,
Mrs. Sayles and her pastor, went silently down
to the back parlor and made ready for their
homeward walks. A curious blending of scenes
that back parlor presented. The light had been
turned on dimly, as if even here brilliancy might
disturb the sufferer, or at least as if brightness
were not in keeping with any portion of that
house ; and yet the room was in festive array,
that sort of disordered festivity which betokens
a sudden interruption in the preparations for
some gayety. There was even a pile of fancy
masks lying all unheeded on one of the tables.
Nobody had had time, or had thought to put
them out of sight. Everywhere there were
traces of bright fancy toilets, that had been in
process of preparation ; everywhere tokens of
what -was to have taken place that evening, had
not the shadow so suddenly glided in between.

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 279

Mr. Tresevant and Mr. Tyndall shook hands in
silence ; both remembered the words of the for-
mer, "It is my intention to spend next Wednes-
day evening with Mrs. Roberts, unless something
in Providence prevents." It was Wednesday
evening, and he had spent it with Mrs. Roberts.
Providence had not prevented, — nay, it had
called him loudly to that very scene ; but she
had been a very wan and frightened hostess,
and there had been present other guests all un-
invited. Not a word said either gentleman.
The memory of that evening spent in prayer
hushed in Mr. Tyndall's heart other than pity-
ing thoughts for his pastor, and Mr. Tresevant
seemed to have no words for any one — no
heart left for words. There were others wait-
ing to hear from the sick room, and Mrs. Sayles
gave her hopeless message in that subdued tone
in which people instinctively talk when they are
within a house over which the dark-winged angel
seems hovering. Then they all went out into
the night and pursued their different ways. A
dark, gloomy night it was, — not so much as a
6tar penetrating the heavy clouds.

"I don't see why you promised to come back,"
Mrs. Tresevant said, almost sobbing, as after
many questions she had succeeded in eliciting
this amount of information from her husband,
that if Mrs. Roberts should n< c live until morn-

280 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

ing, Dr. Douglass was to send for him. "I'm
sure I don't see the need of that. You can't
make her live ; and you know I'm afraid to stay
alone, especially when people are dying. Dr.
Douglass is always interfering. What made
you promise to go ? "

"I could not well avoid it," he answered, cold-
ly. "I can call a chamber-maid to stay with you."

"Yes, and keep me awake and nervous all
night ; then I shall have sick headache to-mor-
row. What is the use of it all , Mr. Tresevant ? "

Her husband paused by the bedside, and
spoke in measured tones.

"Laura, you must remember that your hus-
band is a minister, and has duties toward others
as well as toward yourself. I have no possible
excuse for declining to go to a house of mourn-
ing, and comfort the living, even though I can-
not restore the dying."

"Comfort!" repeated Mrs. Tresevant, turn-
ing her head on the pillow, and surveying him
with wide open eyes. "What possible comfort
can you be to the living at such a time?"

Mr. Tresevant groaned in spirit and answered
not a word. In truth he seemed to have no
comfort to bestow on any one. Even his wife
realized it, and she had felt the need of comfort
under heavy affliction. Even she perhaps could
do more toward » elpiug the sorrowing than

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 281

could he, for she presently said with a womanly
little sigh, —

" I'm sure I wish I had that poor little Freddy
Roberts right here in my arms ; perhaps I could
comfort him."

"Perhaps she could," murmured Mr. Trese-
vant. " And I could not — neither him nor any
one else." And his heart was very heavy.

In the gray sullen dawn of the rainy morning
Dr. Douglass came home. He was wet to the
skin, no umbrella having appeared from the
bewilderment that reigned in the house from
whence he came. His wife met him at the door,
and swiftly and silently helped to make him com-
fortable ere she asked any questions. He vol-
unteered some, however.

" Out of the jaws of death. How does that
sentence run, Julia? It has been in my mind
during the last two hours. I never saw it so
verified, it seems to me."

"Is she living ?" Mrs. Douglass asked, a quick
ring of gladness in her voice.

"Yes; and better, I really believe. I am
very hopeful ; the change seemed marked, and
well-nigh miraculous. Do you know, Julia,
whether any one has been praying in a special
manner for her recovery?"

" Yes ; we had a little bit of a prayer-meeting
last evening — Jerome and Abbie, and Aleck

282 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

and Frank, and I. We spoke of it afterward,
that Abbie seemed to cling to that thought. 1
think the rest of us prayed rather that she might
be prepared for death."

"I trust the Lord has answered both peti-
tions," the doctor said, reverently. "It seemed
to me that somebody must be agonizing in prayer
for her ; she seemed so nearly gone, and sud-
denly the symptoms grew so hopeful. Now,
Julia, if you will let me sleep just one hour,
and then give me a cup of coffee. I must be
back to her by that time."

Mrs. Douglass vouchsafed but one remark as
she brought an additional pillow.

"Dell would say, fHis ways are not our
ways.'"

"My dear Mrs. Sayles, don't you think it was
a very strange thing for Mr. Tresevant to think
of attending such a party ? " This question was
put after Mrs. Sayles' caller had canvassed and
exhausted the entire subject of Mrs. Roberts'
sudden alarming illness, the certainty that every
one felt in regard to her death, her remarkable
recovery, and the indefinite postponement of the
masquerade. Then the question that in some
form or other Mrs. Sayles had been expecting
or dreading, was propounded.
s " Do you meau it was a strange thing for a
Christian to think of attending such a party?"

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 283

Mrs. Sayles asked, with a quiet little smile, and
a marked emphasis on the word "Christian."
Inasmuch as she knew thai her caller was both
a professing Christian and an invited guest at
the contemplated party, this question might be
regarded as a masterstroke.

"Well, not exactly," Mrs. Vincent responded
with a laugh, and a little flush on her cheek.
"Now, Mrs. Sayles, I know you and I think
differently on these subjects, and that remark is
intended for me. Perhaps you are right. Any-
way I agree witn you to the extent that I think
it is just as well for clergymen to avoid such
amusement J "

"I shouldn't quite agree with you," Abbie
said, pleasantly. "If I considered a place per-
fectly proper and fitting for me as a Christian,
t should consider it equally proper for my pas-
tor."

"Why, my dear Mrs. Sayles, don't you think
one's pastor should be an example of peculiar
propriety to his flock?"

"An example for what, dear friend? For us
his flock to follow, or to go directly contrary
to?"

Mrs. Vincent laughed. She was a sharp little
woman in most things.

"Perhaps you are right," she said again.

284 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Anyway, I'm glad our pastor didn't go to that
party."

"So am I," said Mrs. Sayles briskly. "And
I've no doubt he is. I'm glad of another thing,
and that is, that Mrs. Vincent didn't go. And
now, dear friend, shall you and I use our influ-
ence to the utmost in quieting the talk about
this affair, and Mr. Tresevant's participation in
it? There have been a great many foolish and
untrue things said about it, which we can si
lence, and in many ways we can help him."

"I certainly will try," Mrs. Vincent saidv
with serious earnestness.

And Mrs. Vincent, being a power in the com-
munity, did try with marked success.

CHAPTER XXIV.

- If thou be wise, thou shalt be wise for thyself."

"Exactly how far is it from here to Green-
field?" questioned Dell Bronson at the dinner
table.

Dell had been in Boston for three weeks since
she last asked a question at this particular din-
ner table in the Sayles household. The noon
train had returned her to them, and the family
had been jubilant over her arrival.

"It's exactly thirty-seven miles if you take
the morning express ; but if you take that fear-
ful noon accommodation, on which you ap-
peared to-day, it is a hundred and twenty-five
miles at the very least."

This from the host.

"Then I shall certainly take the morning ex-
press," laughed Dell. " Abbie, are you at all
acquainted in Greenfield ? "

"Not in the least. What possible interest
have you in Greenfield ? "

"Why, there is a certain Mrs. Ainslie, whose

286

286 WISE AND OTHERWISE

woe-begone advertisement for a cook I cut out
of the Greenfield Herald, and I'm going to call
on her to-morrow; that is, if you are certain
that you don't know a living soul in the length
and breadth of the town."

"Dell," said Mrs. Sayles, in dignified tones,
and with a becoming little flush on her fair face,
" do you imagine that we are ashamed of you ? "

"No," said" Dell gleefully ; " the only trouble
is, that I am ashamed of you. Imngine Mrs.
Ainslie's cook being suddenly compelled to con-
front Mrs. Jerome Sayles, who is out making
calls on her Greenfield friends ! Neither Mrs.
Sa}Tles nor the cook would know how to manage
the matter judiciously, I fear."

"The only friend I shall call on in Greenfield
will be yourself," said Abbie.

"Which you just mustn't do. Mr. Sayles, I
look to you to keep this unwise wife of yours
in order. I just expect to see her in velvet
cloak and sable furs marching around to Mrs.
Ainslie's back door some time this winter, thus
ruining my prospects forever."

" What did your uncle say to this precious
scheme of yours ? " questioned Mr. Sayles.

"Well, he was not so ready to listen to rea-
son as he generally is — at least, Aunt Laura
wasn't ; and all those exhaustive arguments of
mine about teaching had to be gone over, until

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 287

they tired me so I was sorry I ever thought of
them. Finally we compromised ; if I fail in my
first endeavor I'm to come directly back to them,
and never mention so absurd a scheme to them
again. However, I don't mean to fail, if I find
Mrs. Ainslie in the least endurable."

Behold Dell Bronson the next morning, all
her neat traveling attire, in its two exquisite
shades of drab, packed carefully away in a trunk
that was to be left in Mrs. Sayles store room,
herself clad in a brown and white plaid ging-
ham, a narrow white ruffle at her throat/ a
brown linen sack, and a round hat with plain
brown trimmings.

"It is of no sort of use," Mrs. Douglass said,
(she had come in to witness this novel depart-
ure) and she held up her hands in comic despair.
"You will never do in this world; you look as
neat and proper, and as daintily dressed, as
though you were going on an autumn trip to
Niagara."

"There is nothing on earth the matter with
me," said Dell, coolly surveying herself in a
full-length mirror, "except that I haven't pink,
and yellow, and blue, and green, and whites all
mixed up, about me. I intend to teach Mrs.
Ainslie better than to suppose that because her
girl doesn't wear all the colors of the rainbow at
once, she cannot, therefore, cook a beefsteak.

288 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

I have an elegant brown apron in my valise,
large enough to cover me all up ; and it has a
bib aud sleeves. I made it myself, and I look
enchanting when I get it on."

Her auditors didn't doubt it.

Mrs. Sayles and Mrs. Douglass had petitioned
to be allowed to accompany her to the depot,
and been peremptorily refused on the plea that
Mrs. Ainslie's three fashionable daughters might
be on the train, coming down to Newton to do
some shopping, and a scandal would at once be
created.

"Has she three daughters?" exclaimed Mrs.
Douglass, in dismay.

"I presume so," answered Dell, coolly,
"though she didn't state it in her advertise-
ment; and, as that is all I know about her, I
may be mistaken."

"At least it will be perfectly proper for your
former employer, whose vixen of a wife is send-
ing you away, after unjustly accusing you of
stealing thirteen handkerchiefs and all the silver
spoons, to walk to the cars with you and carry
this satchel," said Mr. Sayles, possessing him-
self of the article in question.

And amid much more nonsense and laughter,
and not without the suspicion of a tear in Mrs.
Sayles' eye, the two were finally started on their
way to the depot.

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 289

"Mr. Sayles, Uncle Edward showed me your
letter," Dell said, when they had walked far
enough to have partly calmed down her gay
spirits.

" Did he ? " Mr. Sayles answered. "Then you
ought to see his reply. It is oue of the most
precious letters I ever received in my life."

"That is what he thinks about the one you
wrote him. He told me to thank you again for
your thoughtful kindness. He said it seemed
remarkable that entire strangers should be ready
to rush to his aid."

"There was nothing remarkable about my let-
ter," Mr. Sayles said, quickly. "It was a very
commonplace affair. I had a little money lying
idle, that I thought might as well be of use to
him, and be earning something at the same time,
you know. I was almost ashamed to mention
it, it was such a trifle, compared with what he
had lost, and with what I knew his Boston friends
stood ready to furnish him ; but I finally decided
to offer what little I could. I really did not
dream of calling forth such a burst of grati-
tude. '

When they reached the depot, and the pre-
liminaries of ticket and baggage had been ar-
ranged, as Mr. Sayles took a seat beside her, to
wait for the train, he said, —

"Is it allowable to ask what Mr. Nelson
19

290 WISE AND OTHERWISE. "

thought of this new development in your be-
wildering self?"

Mr. Sayles had the advantage of most gen-
tlemen of his stamp, in that, when occasion
required, he could la}7 aside his fondness for
jesting, and be as gravely courteous as he had
before been absurd. The consequence was that
Dell felt entirely at ease with him, and answered
his question promptly and frankly.

"Why, at first he did not understand, and
had considerable to say about his salary and the
utter want of occasion for my new plans ; but
he exercised his reason and common sense much
more promptly than the rest of you did. and is
now thoroughly in accord with my ideas."

Then Dell drew a letter from her pocket.

" Mr. Sayles, I have a letter that I want to read
to you. I think you will appreciate it. I begged
it from Uncle Edward for this purpose, but he is
very choice of it, and I am to return it the first
time I write." And in low tones she read the
brief letter.

" Newton, Sept. 3, 18—.

"To the Hon. E. G. Stockwell : —

" Honored Sir : — I hope you will excuse the
liberty I take in writing to you. I have thought
about it a good deal to-day, and have decided
that I can't help it. Your niece, Miss Bronson,

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 291

has told me about your lost money. I am very
sorry, — a good deal sorrier than I can put on
paper, but there is one verse that has been a
great help all day, while I thought of what looks
so like a muddle : ' All things work together for
good.' Now, I hope you will forgive my bold-
ness in this that I want to say. My boss hat.
been very generous, and I hav good pay. I've
got a hundred dollars laid by, that's of no kind
of use to me, and I'd consider it a great favor
if you'd take it ; not to pay back again, sir, but
just as a little token of how much I thank you
for your wonderful kindness to me that first
time I went to Boston, and you took me into
your own carriage and treated me as if I was
a man ; it was that day I made up my mind to
try hard to be somebody."

"What did he do for him?" interrupted Mr.
Sayles, who seemed to know by instinct whose
hand had written the letter.

" Just nothing, Uncle Edward says. Nothing
but the merest commonplace kindness ; but he
did it just as the poor fellow has put it. Uncle
treated him like a man, as very few merchant-
princes would have treated him, such a looking
object as he was. You have no idea how he
looked. Mr. Sayles, I'll tell you all about it
the first time Mrs. Ainslie gives me leave of

292 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

absence." This last with a merry gleam in hei
eyes ; then she read on :

"I've been trying since, and the Lord has
taken hold of me, and I belong to him now;
all the same I am grateful to those that helped
me when I must have looked as though there
was nothing in me to help. So now if you'll
kindly take the hundred dollars that I inclose
in this letter, I'll be much obliged to you. At
first I was ashamed to send it, because it was
such a little bit ; but then Miss Bronson told
me you had lost everything; and, thinks I, if
it is only a drop in the bucket, every drop helps
a little, and anyhow it will show my gratitude,
as well as if there was a lot of it. So in con-
clusion, I ask you to forgive my boldness ; and
show me that you do so, by keeping this little
bit of money. I have prayed for you every day
since I first learned how to pray, and T ain't
afraid but the Lord will take care of you ; but
I didn't know any other way to show you how
grateful I was, and I do hope and trust that I
haven't offended you.

"Your obedient servant,

"James L. Forbes."

"The poor fellow!" Mr. Sayles exclaimed,
with glistening eyes, as Dell folded the letter-

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 293

" Isn't it pitiful, as well as funny ? " said Dell,
eagerly. " I never saw Uncle Ed wad so moved ;
he told me that there had many things occurred
to touch his heart since his riches took wings,
but nothing that had melted him as this poor,
simple-hearted fellow's offer of his all had done."

"How did he answer the letter?"

"I don't know. I would have given some-
thing for the pleasure of seeing the answer, but
he told me nothing about it ; only I know that
he accepted the hundred dollars."

"Accepted it!" said Mr. Sayles, in amaze-
ment.

"Yes," said Dell, with dancing eyes. "Isn't
it splendid? I know just how happy it has
made the great-hearted fellow, and Uncle Ed-
ward has ways of disposing of such a sum of
money very advantageously. He told me to tell
you he hoped you would not be offended that he
gave poor Jim the preference, but that there
was really no resisting his letter."

"I should think not," laughed Mr. Sayles.
"And the splendid fellow has really given away
his all, believing in his simplicity that that is to
be the end of the mattor?"

"Oh, yes, indeed, he la as simple as .-< child
about such things. Why should he not be?
Just imagine what a sum, one hundred dollars in
the bank must have seemed to him?"

294 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"What will it seem when he sees it again?*'
said Mr. Sayles, still laughing. "Well, I ana
glad of his good fortune, but I thought he was
contemplating matrimony, did not you?"

Dell shook her head.

" Not for some years yet, I fancy. You know
Jenny Adams is only sixteen, and Jim is but a
boy. I dare say he hopes to have another hun-
dred, perhaps two of them, by the time he is
ready to marry ; there is no telling to what wild
flights his extravagant fancy may lead him.
Mr. Sayles, do you know there are things that
puzzle me very much ; this downfall of Uncle
Edward's, for instance? Why should it have
been ? Not to discipline him, surely, for he was
'gold tried in the fire' long before; besides, it
isn't going to last long enough for discipline ;
he is coming up already. Judge Winthrop told
me about it ; he says his immediate successes
have been more marvelous than his reverses ;
that in five years from now if he lives he will un-
questionably be a wealthier man than ever.
Leonard Winthrop says he is raised up to be a
second Job to show modern Satans how some
Christians can endure afiliction. Nonsense
aside, do you suppose there might be some such
reason for his rapid and heavy reverses ? "

"My opinion is," said Mr. Sayles, rising,
" that he probably lost his fortune in order to

WISE AflD OTHERWISE. 295

give Mrs. Ainslie a period of rest from the in-
firmities of ordinary cooks. There is the train,
Dell. My respects to the lady in question, take
care of yourself, and whatever you do, don't
burn the beefrteak, nor slap the baby."

CHAPTER XKV.

" The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning."

Seizing upon her little hand-satchel with a
business-like air, Dell sprang from the platform
of the train, and after a few inquiries addressed
to a courteous policeman made her way up
Chestnut Street, and presently reached Mrs.
Ainslie's number. She had mounted the steps
and had her hand on the bell-knob, when she
seemed suddenly to change her mind, and run-
ning down the steps again, picked her way dain-
tily through a muddy carriage drive in search
of a back door, soliloquizing, as she went,
"When I am mistress I shall have a good sen-
sible plank walk around to the back door, pro-
vided I have by that time decided that it is a
heinous crime in the maid to use the front door.
Meantime, however, being at present the maid,
I suppose it is my duty to confine my reforms
to that qnnrtor. and \o* the mi^rc-s nUno. HI
tioh out a board ur two, though, Iruui oouie-
where, before I've occupied this mansion twea-

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 297

ty-four hours — that is to say, if I occupy it at
all."

A slatternly-looking girl, with her uncombed
hair hanging down her back, and her dress in
ruffles that time and nails had made, answered
Dell's knock, and set her off into another mental
computation as to how long she should be likely
to serve as cook in that establishment, provided
she were expected to room with that girl. She
actually shivered over the thought — really the
first that had met her in any other light but that
of fun. She waited in a disorderly dining-
room for Mrs. Ainslie's appearance, and had the
satisfaction of hearing a disconsolate voice, sup-
posed to belong to that lady, say, —

" Another girl to talk with ! I'm nearly worn
out. This is the ninth applicant since yesterday
morning. "

"Encouraging," murmured Dell. While a
man's voice responded, —

"Do take this one if she knows a potato from
a cabbage. You must be too hard to suit, EU
mira."

"That is all you know about it," sighed El-
mira. And then she swept into the dining-
room — a tall, pale woman, with a worn, weary
face, that in repose was either habitually sad or
fretful. Dell could not quite determine which.
She had pale, yellow curls, long ana thin, fall-

298 WISE ASTD OTHERWISE.

ing back from her wan face, and was attired in
a morning dress of deep black, unrelieved by a
touch even of white. Altogether, Dell did not
wonder that she sighed, especially if she had
happened to catch a glimpse of her forlorn self
in her transit from the next room. She seemed
a good deal amazed at Dell's appearance, and
only stared in answer to that young lady's bow.
Finally, however, she recovered herself, and said
with commendable brevity, —

"What is 3'our name?"

Fortunately for Dell this question had been
anticipated, and she answered, glibly, —

"Delia Bronson."

"You are in search of a place, are you?"

To this question, Dell, not being able to bring
her mind to the stereotyped "Yes, ma'am," an-
swered simply by bowing her head.

" Where do you come from ? "

This question, too, had been provided for.
Dell had decided to say as little as possible
about Newton, and so answered, promptly, —

"From Boston."

"Boston!" with the rising inflection, and a
suspicious elevation of the eyebrows. "You
have come a long distance in search of employ-
ment. You bring references, of course, from
your last place ? "

"I have been living with any uncle in Boston,

WISE &KD OTHERWISE. 299

and I didn't suppose people would care for a
reference to him." At the same time Dell's eves
grew merry over the strangeness of her uncle
writing her a certificate of character.

" What was your work in your uncle's family ?"

At which query Dell hesitated, and nearly
disgraced herself by laughing. Suppose she
should tell her exact work ! In the first place
she was always dressed to receive morning call-
ers ; then she attended to the vases, putting
fresh flowers all about the house ; the canaries
were also her care ; and really, with this meagre
list, her recognized work ended. Clearly this
would not do to tell Mrs. Ainslie.

"I had no cooking to do at my uncle's," she
finally said, dashing into her story with a feel-
ing that she was really making a sorry figure in
Mrs. Ainslie's eyes. "Before that time I lived
with my father in Lewiston, and I was my
father's housekeeper."

"Then you really mean to tell me that you
have never lived in a gentleman's family, and
understand work only as you learned it at
home?" This with a tremendous lifting of the
eyebrows, which Dell was too amused to notice.
What would Mrs. Ainslie have thought of Mr.
Edward Stock well's homo and family ! How-
ever, there was no denying Mrs. Ainslie's state-
ment, so the would-be cook answered calmly, — ^

300 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"That's all the experience I have had."

The lady looked the picture of despair.

"The idea of your supposing that you could
do my cooking ! " she said, in dismay.

The absurdity of her position was growing
every moment more apparent to Dell, but she
rallied bravely for one more effort.

n I was brought up by my aunt, and she had
me learn cooking. Then when I was eighteen
I went home to my father and kept his house.
We had boarders, and I think our table always
gave satisfaction."

" Oh, yes, of course ; but your aunt's cooking
was probably very different from mine."

Dell had not the least idea but that it was ;
and the idea of her Aunt Laura's professional
cook condescending to get up a dinner out
there in Mrs. Ainslie's kitchen came over her
again with its ludicrous side almost too appar-
ent.

" However," said Mrs. Ainslie, relenting a
little, " almost any sort of cooking is better than
none, and I am utterly discouraged with the set
who have been to me. You look neat, at least,
and I've half a mind to try 3rou for a few days.
"What wrnges do you expect?"

Dell had canvassed that matter. Good, fair
country wages, such as she had given to Kate in
the old hotel, she had decided to demand. Mrs.

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 301

Ainslie said they were large for a girl who had
had no experience ; but girls' wages were exor-
bitant nowadays, and she supposed she must
submit to that with all the rest ; and she sighed
heavily, and looked every inch a martyr.

"Who sent you to me?" she inquired, sud-
denly.

In response Dell opened the Greenfield daily
and pointed to the lady's advertisement.

"And did you come all the way from Boston
to answer my advertisement?"

"Oh, no, ma'am," said Dell, smiling, and be-
ginning to conclude that she would pardon Mrs.
Ainslie for considering her a suspicious charac-
ter. " I have been stopping with some friends
in Newton."

"Oh, you have friends as near as Newton."
This was evidently not considered a recommen-
dation. "Do your friends work in the mill?"

"Some of them do," Dell answered, thinking
at once of great-hearted Jim Forbes, and of how
proud she was to call him "friend."

"Have you been a mill-girl yourself?"

"No, ma'am," said Dell, stooping suddenly to
pick up her paper which had fallen.

" Well, now, if I consent to try you for a few
days, how much must I be annoyed with com-
pany running here to see you? I do not toler-
ate that sort of thing any more than is absolutely

302 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

necessary, and you may as well understand it
from the first."

How considerate, and altogether Christian,
thought Dell. When I am mistress how many
things there will be to reform ; but her answer
was quite meek.

"I have no acquaintances to visit me."

"The}r are very easily made," responded the
martyr-spirit, disconsolately. " And you must
understand from the first that I don't permit fol-
lowers at all."

"Another kind and thoughtful proviso. Be-
cause a girl cooks her dinner, she must have no
friends and no lover." This in indignant solil-
oquy by Dell. Then the comic side nearly over-
came her again. What if Mr. Nelson should
take it into his insane head to come and see her !

Mrs. Ainslie eyed her sharply.

"Are you mixed up in anything of that kind ? "
she said, at last, suspicion quivering in every
letter of her words.

Dell's eyes flashed a little ; this was carrying
surveiU 3 f*v& t too far. What wonder that
respectable American girls shrank from such an
ordeal as she was undergoing. Was it all false
pride that kept them starving at their needles,
or drudging in school-rooms? And yet, she
added, rallying her forces, the disgrace and the
coarseness are on her side, not mine. Why

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 303

should I care ? Then she answered, with a quiet
dignity,—

" I am corresponding with a friend, Mrs. Ains-
lie ; but he is far away from here, and will not
trouble you."

"Oh, you are." Mrs. Ainslic evidently did
not approve. "And how often will he be
coming to visit you? "

"Not this winter, I presume," Dell said, — a
little pang at her heart because of this ; but the
memory of those days together in Boston, only
last week, was still fresh.

wf Are you going to marry this man?"

Flashing eyes, but still a quiet voice.

"I expect to."

"When?"

Was this impudence to be borne? Should
she truthfully say, "That is none of your busi-
ness," and leave Mrs. Ainslie to ker reflections*
Then what would become of ail her pet schc nes,
her longing after practical experience it* (his
very field to help her in what she wanted co do
in the future ? Not thus early y niquished would
6he flee the ground. And just Ih«jh a vision of
the letter she would write to Abbin;, and Mr.
Sayles' probable comments thereon, restored
her to good humor, and she actually replied
with a smile, —

"Not for some time to come, madam."

304 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"But there will be nothing permanent, even
if I take a fancy to keep you, which, I must say,
is extremely improbable."

Nevertheless, Mrs. Ainslie looked as if she
considered herself wronged, and Dell's eyes
danced as she said, demurely, —

"Nothing beyond this coming winter."
• "Oh, well, that is always the way. Girls
never know when they are well off. However,
that will probably make very little difference to
me. Well, I must say I never did such a strange
thing in my life ! — - engage a girl without char-
acter or experience ; but I like your looks very
well, and I believe you have told me the truth ;
so if yon choose, you can take off your things,
and try it for a week. We can manage to sur-
vive somehow during that length of time, I
guess."

Another item for Mr. Sayles ! How would
Mrs. Ainslie look telling her dressmaker or her
milliner, "I believe you have told me the truth !"
Yet to the cook it must be considered as compli-
mentary. It was certainly a strange world, with
the very queerest grades and distinctions in it
that could be imagined. Yet Dell's courage did
not forsake her ; it had been strengthened by
tremendous opposition during these weeks, and
several persons were awaiting the result, sure
of failure ; therefore obstinate Dell resolved

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 305

that she would not fail, unless — there was one
proviso — if she were obliged to room with that
girl who was at that moment peering at her
through the half-open kitchen door. She de-
termined on a bold stroke.

"Does your cook room with the second girl,
madam ? "

"No, she does not" said Mrs. Ainslie, with
great firmness and decided emphasis. "I have
tried that to my heart's content. The last girl
I had chatted with Harrie half the night, and
they both went around half asleep the next day.
I'll have no more of that. Harrie is the second
girl ; she is a perfect nuisance ; but they are all
nuisances in one form or other." And then this
patient martyr sighed again very heavily, and
looked the image of resigned despair.

Meantime Dell — her position assured at least
for a few clays — gave herself up for a moment
to the uninterrupted enjoyment of a sweet baby
face that laughed down at her from his frame on
the wall. It had irresistible attractions for her ;
she longed to kiss that rosebud mouth. "I can
set Mr. Sayles' heart to rest on one point," she
told herself, remembering with an amused smile
that gentleman's last caution. "I'll certainly
never slap that baby."

Mrs. Aiuslie's eyes followed her new girl's,
and rested on the picture.
20

306 WISE AND OTHERWISE,

"That's my baby," she said, with a sudden
softening of tone, — " my little Laurie, when he
was sixteen months old."

"He is very beautiful," said Dell, cordial
sympathy in her voice.

"The picture did not do him justice," sighed
Mrs. Ainslie. "No picture could. He was
much more beautiful than that when he died.
Every one who saw him said he was too beauti-
ful to be put in the grave."

It is impossible to give }rou an idea of the utter
hopeless sadness of the tone in which these word3
were spoken. It quivered to the very depths of
Dell's heart. This laughing baby was gone then,
and the weak, selfish, exacting woman before
her stood invested with the sacred sorrow of
mourning motherhood, — empty arms, empty
crib, empty heart. Dell thought of the dear
crib in Aunt Laura's room in Boston, of baby
Essie in her nursery with Abbie, at this mo-
ment, and her heart went out very pitifully
toward this desolate mother. No silver linings
to her cloud. It could not be she was a Chris-
tian. Nothing in her words or manner had
indicated it ; and she had said her baby "died"
and was "put in the grave." Almost all Chris-
tian mothers, Dell had noticed, shunned these
words, — said, rather, "Gone to heaven," "Gone
to Jesus." Perhaps this was the key to this

My little Laurie. — Page 306.

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 307

mother's hopeless, weary face, absorbed in a
heavy, selfish sorrow, with no one to help her
bear it; too heavy a pain to spend itself in
weeping, too hopeless an one to find comfort in
anything else, just letting her cross weigh her
down, and bear its weight heavily and con-
stantly on her. Such she looked to Dell, and
her heart, that was throbbing with sympathy,
gave another throb of something akin to joy.
What if her persistent following up uf this par-
ticular woman, with a tenacity that had clung
to her in a manner that even seemed ludicrous
to herself, meant that she **as to have an oppor-
tunity to say to this worn heart, "The cross is
too heavy for you ; don't carry it ; the Master
is waiting to lift it ; he has sent me to tell you
that above it the sun is shining, and heaven is
over all." Very swiftly these thoughts rushed
through her mind as she stood before the pic-
ture, and with them a little prayer that such
should be her aim. She gave no expression in
words to these thoughts. This was no fitting
opportunity, only, as she turned from the sweet
nice, she said, very gently, very softly, "fHo
shall gather the lambs with his arms, and carry
them in his bosom.'" She couldn't resist this
tender little crumb of comfort. Mrs. Ainslie
looked at her new girl a moment in startled
wonder ; then her lip quivered, her dreary com-

308 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

posure gave way, and she suddenly buried her
face in her handkerchief and sobbed. Dell went
softly out to the dingy kitchen, and prevailed
upon the slatternly girl to show her where amj
what and how.

CHAPTEK XXVI.

" For vain man would be wise."

On swift wings sped the late summer and
early autumn. Before the busy people in New-
ton realized that the soft-winged autumn was
fairly upon them, there came suddenly days of
wind and rain and storm, that sent the crimson
and golden leaves in wild flutters through the
air, and left them in glowing heaps here and
there along the ground. There was little time
in which to gather and admire them. Frost fol-
lowed rapidly in the wake of the autumn rains ;
and then one morning the busy town awoke, and
lo ! leaves, earth, grasses, all were gone, and
the world was white. Baby Essie opened her
blue eyes in wonderment over the miracle, and
reached with eager hands after the white jewels
as they fell and sparkled. The world was new
to baby Essie, and everything that transpired
was wonderful. By and by her eyes will grow
accustomed to all these things, maybe, and the
wonderful will sink into the commonplace.

310 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

Maybe not. To some of God's children the oft-
repeated miracles of rain and snow and ice, and
rainbow and cloud audK storm, are always won-
ders. It may be it is reserved for baby Essie
to have such rare eyes as these. Be that as it
may, she stood a silent and amazed spectator at
the transformation that the world had undergone
while she slept, and presently broke the silence
to announce, with much chipping of hands, that
"Auntie Julia was coming," and then, pitifully,
that "she was stepping on the white things and
hurting them.''

"An inch or more of snow thus early in the
season," Mrs. Douglass said, stamping her feet
and blowing the crystals from her muff. " What
sort of a winter does that promise ? " The mir-
acle had grown very common to Mrs. Douglass.

Baby Essie ran eagerly forward. She saw
the white things fly; she wanted some. She
searched right and left, under the table, behind
the sofa — they were gone !

"What is the child in search of? O Abbie,
as sure as the world I believe she is looking for
the snow-flakes that I brought in ! They are
gone, darling — all gone — melted."

Baby Essie looked at her informant gravely,
wonderment deepening in her eyes. She under-
stood "gone" — "melted" was yet a new pro-
cess to learn. Presently she translated it in
easier voice.

WISE AND OTHEKWISE. 311

"Back to heaven, auntie? Did they fly back
to heaven?"'

Mrs. Douglass laughed merrily.

"Oh, you darling little goosie," she said,
catching her up, and bestowing kisses on her
cheeks, on her nose, on ht-r chin, anywhere that
they happened to fall. "Abbie, how will you
ever teach her the ten million things that there
are to be taught ? Doesn't it make your heart
uche for her ? "

Ah, me ! how rather shall wTe catch some of
their sweet unworldly fancies that hover around
them, and that it must be, the angels whisper
to them, before the cares and griefs of life
choke and scatter them ?

The mother of this baby only smiled quietly,
without a shadow of heartache about her, and
answered, cheerily, —

"One step at a time. Did you never learn
the little poem, —

" ' One step and then another,
And the longest walk is taken ?'

"AYhat brought you out so early in the snow?"
"Oh," said Mrs. Douglass, restored to the
domain of the practical, "I came to see Jerome.
The doctor sent me ; he hadn't time to come.
Jerome hasn't gone yet, has he? Ah, Abbies
you dou't know who is coming here."

312 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Jerome will be down in a few minutes.
What news have you ? "

"Did you ever hear of Mr. Parker?"

" Mr. Parker," said Mrs. Sayles thoughtfully.
"Why, yes, I have known several persons of that
name. O Julia, do you mean an old minister
— Ester's Mr. Parker ? " This last with a very
bright face. *

"Yes, Ester's Mr. Parker, and the doctor's,
and mine, for that matter. I have a very deep
personal interest in him, though I was but a
child at the time. He is a blessed old saint,
one of God's pecular people without doubt.
Well, don't you think he is coming here to the
Park Street Church to conduct a meeting.
Now, isn't that blessed? Jerome," as Mr.
Sayles at that moment entered the room, "the
doctor sent me to tell you about him, and ask if
you didn't think the two churches might be
united. He says Dr. Willis told him last even-
ing that Mr. Tresevant was to be invited to join
them, and the doctor said if Mr. Tresevant felt
that his church was very anxious to do so, it
would perhaps influence him in that direction,
if he needed influencing. And he wanted to
know if you would have time to call on Judge
Benson this morning and consult with him."

" If you would kindly inform me which of the
pronouns belong to which persons, and what two

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 313

churches especially need uniting, and what Mr.
Tresevant is to be invited to join, perhaps I
might feel more enlightened." And Mr. Sayles
leaned against the window-sash, and looked
down on his informant with an amused air.

Mrs. Douglass laughed good-humoredly.

" Oh, dear ! " she said, K I always put a story
the wrong end first. Now, I'll begin at the be-
ginning."

Mr. Sayles listened, interested, eager, all his
listlessness gone. The Kegent Street Church,
the church of his heart, the only one with which
he had ever been connected, was at a very low
ebb so far as its practical piety was concerned ;
the prayer-meetings, those unerring barometers
of a church, were very thinly attended ; and the
mass of Christians when they met together were
apt, the gentlemen to discuss the business ex-
citements of the day, and the ladies to lay plans
for the "gay season," instead of having aught to
gay concerning the journey they had pledged
their vows to take together, helping each other
on the way. Yet there were an eager few
whose hearts were longing and groping for
something better — enough to claim the prom-
ise, "Where two or three," etc. They had
been praying earnestly, longingly, during the
past weeks, and this intimation of the rousing
of a sister church seemed to Mr. Sayles like an
answer to prayer.

314 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Of course we must unite," he said, decided-
ly. " Our hopes and desires are the same, why
should we not unitedly seek their fulfillment?
[ don't know this Mr. Parker personally; but
if ever I had a desire to see a man in my life it
is he. I have heard very much of the blessing
that attends his labors."

"But, Jerome," said Mrs. Douglass, anxious-
ly. " do you think Mr. Tresevant will be in sym-
pathy with this idea?"

Mr. Sayles smiled meaningly.

"What makes yon think he will not be?"

"I don't know, I am sure," Mrs. Douglass
said, flushing and laughing. "Only I — he —
well, the truth is, he never happens to be in
sympathy with anything; and I suppose I took
it for granted that he wouldn't be with this."

"I know you would hardly make that remark
outside of this room," Mr. Snyles answered her,
gravely. "But charity is one thing, and plain
common-sense knowledge is another. I don't
suppose there is any real good to be gained in
shutting our eyes to the fact that our pastor does
not seem to view these things in the light that
we wish he did. I confess I doubt his willing-
ness to join in these meetings ; and if he does
so, I think it will be because of the pressure ot
his church. Abbie, that isn't wicked, is it —
between ourselves, you know?"

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 315

Mrs. Sayles was engaged in putting on baby
Essie's shoe, a process that had to be gone
through with an indefinite number of times ; but
she looked up with serene brow, and spoke
g< ut iy, —

" Don't you think, Jerome, there are short-
comings enough in people that are positively
known to us, without our condemning those that
may be? Besides, I don't like to injure the
spirituality of just ourselves by going over, any
more than is necessary, what is a trial and a
disappointment to us."

f* You see," said Mr. Sayles, turning to their
guest, with a hair-serious, half-comic air, "when
I make extra efforts to rise superior to your
standpoint, I don't succeed in coming within
reach of hers. I may as well drop back at once
to your platform." Then, gravely, "Abbie is
right. The least said the better, t^ov us at least.
Well, I will see Judge Benson and Mr. Saunders,
and what others I can."

The end of it was that the officers of the church
went i;i a body to call on Mr. Tresevant, Dr.
Douglass, as one of the officers, making one of
the number. lee could not have been harder
to impress, than was their dignified pastor. In
the first place these gentlemen, like most others
when they undertake to move in an official ca-
pacity, had not moved rapidly enough. Dr.

316 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

Wiftis, the acting pastor of the Park Street
Church, had been there before them, and given
lis cordial, hearty invitation to the pastor of the
Regent Street Church for pastor and people to
unite with them in a series of meetings. This
invitation Mr. Tresevant had seen fit to decline.
There was no special interest in his church, he
said, and he was not a believer in forced re-
vivals. Does any one imagine that after such a
statement Mr. Tresevant had any idea of chang-
ing his mind, merely because the officers of the
church desired it, and thus showing plainly to
Dr. Willis that he was not the controlling power
in his own church?

"This Mr. Parker," he said, stiffly, in re-
sponse to Dr. Douglass' earnest words concern-
ing him, "is a man of whom I never heard be-
fore, and I certainly cannot be expected to in-
vite my people to attend the meetings of a man
concerning whom I know nothing."

" Save that which Dr. Douglass has just been
telling us," said Judge Benson, pointedly, with
a courteous bow to the doctor. This sentence
Mr. Tresevant chose to ignore.

Dr. Douglass spoke again, and very earn-
estly,—

"Mr. Tresevant, concerning this evangelist
you have only to go ten miles west of here on
the railroad, to the town where I used to live,

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 317

to receive repeated and undoubted proof of what
I have been telling you. It was there that the
powerful work of grace followed his labors."

"Besides, Dr. Willis tells me that he himself
is an intimate personal friend of Mr. Parker,
and that they have worked together for years."
This from Judge Benson.

Mr. Tresevant bowed.

"Then Dr. Willis doubtless does quite right
in inviting him to his church ; but I have no
such acquaintance with him, and in general,
gentlemen, I can not say that I approve of
evangelistic labor. He must be a very poor
pastor indeed who can not guide and care for
his own flock better than any stranger coming
into their midst."

Old Mr. Osborne, whose hair was white with
the snows of more than seventy winters, and
who rarely spoke much, yet had the reputation
of speaking to the point, now joined the debate.

"But there's two sides to that question, isn't
there? An evangelist generally brings to the
work years of experience with all classes of
minds ; and he has no sermons to write nor
studying to do during special meetings, and
can give his whole time to the work. It seems
to me those are reasons that a young minister
will appreciate ; and if an evangelist be a judi-
ciousman, I don't see why he couldn't be of the
greatest help to a pastor."

318 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"They are not by any means remarkable for
judiciousness, sir; and, speaking for myself, I
have found myself thus far entirely able to fulfill
my pulpit and pastoral duties without outside
aid."

Mr. Tresevant's tone was rather more haighty
than courtesy would justify, coming from so
young a man to so aged a Christian ; but Mr.
Osborne did not seem inclined to be awed by it.

"Well," he said, speaking in low, measured
tones, "as to their being judicious as a class, I
can't say, of course, for I don't know many of
them ; but I've been intimately acquainted with
Brother Parker for fifty odd years, and he has
managed to be remarkably judicious in his work
during that time, and that is a good many years
longer than you've lived yet, Mr. Tresevant."

Dr. Douglass and Judge Benson both turned
to Mr. Osborne with eager interest in their man-
ner, Dr. Douglass speaking first.

" Do you know our Brother Parker?"

"Aye, that I do, and blessed reason have I
to rejoice over it. It's thirty years now since
he was the means of leading me to my Saviour,
though I knew him long before that, — in fact,
we were lads together. That was a wonderful
meeting that I attended thirty years ago. Many
of the things he said in those sermons are just
as vivid to me now as our talk is here this even-

ing,

»

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 319

"The fact is, gentlemen," said Mr. Tresevant,
breaking abruptly into the old man's beloved
past, "we don't agree in these matters, and we
probably shouldn't if we talked all night. The
old gentleman who seems to have stolen your
hearts may be perfection, for aught I know. I
do not say that he isn't ; but I insist that I know
better what kind of food my people need than
he, an entire stranger, can know. Besides, I
do not approve of religious excitement. This
sudden multiplication of meetings, without any
cause therefor, looks to me wonderfully like a
device of man's, with which the Spirit has very
little to do ; therefore I can not cousent to join
in such a plan."

"What kind of excitement do you believe
in?" queried Mr. Osborne.

"Sir?" answered his pastor, haughtily.

"I thought," said the old man, meekly, "I
would like to know what it was proper to get
excited about."

Whereupon Dr. Douglass and Judge Benson
were guilty of exchanging glances and smiles.
Then Judge Benson took up the subject.

"But is that quite fair, Mr. Tresevant? Is it
quite as we act in other matters of much less
importance ? Suppose a man never evinces any
special interest in his own salvation, shall we,
as Christians, evince none? During a political

320 WT8E AND OTHEKWISE

campaign we are very apt, you know, to mul
tiply meetings, for no apparent cause save that
we are anxious to have people on the right side.
Shall we, as our Brother Osborne suggests, be
less interested in the important question of
urging the people to take the right side in this
issue, which is for eternity? I confess I see no
inconsistency in using whatever proper means
the Lord sends within our reach, to the end
that we may persuade some one to take the
right stand."

"There are several ways of working for the
same end," the pastor said, trying to smile.
w And this is not my way of working ; there-
fore I must still persist in my previous convic-
tion."

CHAPTER XXVII.

"The wise in heart will receive commandments."

"You might as well talk to a stone wall,"
Judge Benson said, as the officers of the Regogt
Street Church wended their crest-fallen way
homeward.

" What is the trouble with him, Brother Os-
borne? Something seems to be wrong."

"The main trouble I think is that he has man-
aged to get himself wedged in between Christ
and the cross, so, naturally, he thinks of him-
self first."

"Let's go in and see Sayles a few moments,"
Dr. Douglass said, pausing in front of his friend's
door. " He was anxious to hear the result of
this."

So they all went in. Mr. and Mrs. Sayles
were alone together in the parlor, and the story
of the call was gone over for their benefit.

"I don't know about it all," Judge Benson
said, growing a little excited. " We seem to bo
crippled constantly in our efforts for the good

21 321

322 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

of the church. I'm half inclined to think if we
can't agree to work together comfortably as
pastor and people, perhaps it would be well to
agree to separate. What a woe-begone face,
Mrs. Sayles ! Is it wicked for a church to make
a change of pastors ? "

"It is a very solemn thing, I think," Mrs.
Sayles said, speaking gravely ; "and one which
should not be entered on without much thought
and prayer, and a settled conviction of the ne-
cessity of such a step."

Judge Benson turned toward Mr. Osborne.

"There would be fewer changes than there
are nowadays, Brother Osborne, would there
not, if Mrs. Sayles' ideas were lived up to?"

"And much less need of them," the old man
said, earnestly. "She is risrht. We must
speak softly about this matter. Indeed, I don't
know that wTe ought to speak at all."

"Oh, my words were light, I'll admit," said
Judge Benson. "I've never spoken them be-
fore ; and yet I confess I have thought them oc-
casionally ; but I dare say I am wrong. He is
a good preacher, and he tries to do good in cer-
tain quarters."

"And accomplishes it too," said Mrs. Sayles.
"He has done a great deal for th 3 Morrisons.
No one ever had so much influence over them be-
fore."

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 323

w And he is very much in earnest about Sab-
bath-school work," chimed in her husband.

"Yes, yes," old Mr. Osborne said. "He is
in earnest about a good many things. Don't lot
us go and get obstinate because he doesn't id-
ways see things just exactly as we do. He is
doing work for the Master in his way ; and may-
be it's just as good a way as ours. Anyway,
as the dear sister has said, we must remember
it is a solemn thing for us to find fault with one
whom we have so solemnly covenanted to help,
and by whose counsel we are pledged to wralk
so far as we can. About this meeting now, he
may be right and we wrong. We cannot tell.
Let us walk softly. The Lord will show us
each the right way if we will let him."

"Do you think, Brother Osborne, that we
should give up the idea of attending these meet-
ings?"

" Ob, no, no ! I couldn't give up these meet-
ings, it seems to me, unless the Lord should tell
me that I must. I look forward to them with
a great joy ; but I'll tell you what seems best to
do. We'll just slip quietly into them, not as a
church, you know, but as Christians. We'll get
all the dear people to go that we can, especially
those wrho have no acquaintance with our Sav-
iour, and we'll do all the good we can ; but we'll
do it kind of quietly, without saying or thinking

324 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

anything about opposition, or want of sympathy,
or any of those harsh words ; and we'll not neg-
lect our own meetings, only we'll just try to have
a good precious time, such as the Lord loves us
to have. Isn't that the way?"

"Yes," said Judge Benson emphatically, ris-
ing as he spoke. " I'm glad I came in here this
evening. Brother Sayles, your wife and our
Brother Osborne between them have quite sub-
dued me. I'll have to admit that I was in
rather a turbulent state of mind. Left to my-
self I'm not sure but I should have advocated
calling the church together and proposed an in-
surrection."

M Let us all pray the good Lord to save us from
ourselves," Mr. Osborne said, with a sort of
tender solemnity, as he shook hands all around
and made ready to take his leave.

As for Mr. Tresevant, he was not by any
means as happy as a triumphant man might have
been supposed to be. He went from the con-
ference with his brethren to his own room in a
perturbed state of mind. Perplexities sur-
rounded him on every hand ; his heart was
heavy f he wanted a different state of things in
his church, desired it greatly ; at least he thought
so. lie believed in revivals, though he had so
decidedly entered his protest against what he was
pleased to term forced ones. If hp had ad-

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 325

milled to himself what was the solemn truth,
that he did not believe in anything that was in
danger of thrusting him into the background ;
if only he had realized this, the unchristian
thought would have startled him, led him per-
haps into an examination of his own heart. If
some one could have said to him, "See here,
you don't want to attend these proposed meet-
ings ; you don't want your church to attend
them, because you think that in the event of a
revival the people will become deeply interested
in the old minister, will talk about and love
bim, and will forget all about you and their
duty to you ;" and then after those words, if that
plain-spoken individual could have immediately
faded into thin air and been seen no more, I
think it would have done Mr. Trescvant good ;
but if the speaker had remained flesh and blood,
a person to be met and endured, I fear me that
Mr. Tresevant's haughty anger would have pre-
vented any benefit to himself. Ah, me, if in-
stead of this idle fancy he would have gone to
some quiet spot, and kneeling, said, "Dear
Master, show me my own heart ; show me
wherein I am wrong; lead me in thy way,"
what might not this petition have done for the
pastor of the Ivegeut Street Church? Instead
he paced (ho floor of his room, looking moody,
and dweiiii^ o.i ull that had beca unpleasant to

326 F WISE AND OTHERWISE.

him in the conversation, until his heart grew
sore and angry against them all, and he said,
firmly, "I will not be coaxed or pressed into
doing what I do not wish to do." It is true ho
had family worship; presently and during his
prayer he said, "Grant that our every wish
may be made subservient to thy honor and
glory ; " and he did not in the least realize that
while he was speaking these words he was
thinking, "How very annoying it was that Dr.
Douglass must be mixed up with everything."
He went presently to the spot that always
calmed him down, his special shrine whereat he
almost worshiped — that was the new and dainty
piece of furniture that had lately been intro-
duced into his home life, a lace-canopied, rose-
lined crib ; within that crib lay sleeping a fair-
faced, dimpled baby, the first-born to the house
of Tresevant — " Eos well C. Tresevant." Can
anybody describe what that bit of dainty flesh
and blood meant to the young father bending
over him, and drinking in all the sweetness and
purity of that lovely face? Joy, pride, exulta
tion reveled in the father's gaze ; and still there
loomed up before him that all-powerful "I."
"My son," my precious one, /will do thus and
so for him. / will have this and that prepared
for him ; and very rarely indeed did there come
to Mr. Tresevant such a sense of his own frailty

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 327

and powerlessness that he longed to lay his
treasure in stronger arms than his, and pray the
all-powerful Father to call him his child. So
on this particular evening he stood beside the
crib, thinking his strong, eager thoughts, until
the unpleasantness of the evening faded — aye,
and the responsibilities also — and he gave him-
self up to the delights of a triumphant future.

Meantime the Regent Street pastor did hot
succeed in blocking the wheels of the Park
Street Church. He did not announce the meet-
ings, and he did announce his own regular ap-
pointments for the week as usual. But the
meetings across the way commenced, and the
Regent Street people, following the advice and
example of old Mr. Osborne, "slipped quietly
in," corning in larger numbers every evening —
coming with deepening interest, and many of
them after earnest closet prayer, until toward
the close of the first week, had Mr. Tresevaut
chosen to be present, he might have met al-
most his entire Sabbath congregation. There
is not space to tell you of the blessed meeting
that this people enjoyed ; and indeed it would
be a difficult matter to report it. To have had
any idea of its preciousness you must have been
present and felt its power. But there were two
special evenings concerning which I want to tell
you. Mr. Tresevant had not planned utterly to

328 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

9

absent himself from the Park Street Church ; on
the contrary, his intention had been to be present
frequently, both to avoid attracting attention
and to keep himself posted as to the movements
of his own people, yet he felt a strange reluc-
tance to make one of the number who nightly
thronged the church, and allowed the most trivial
engagements, the most commonplace excuses,
to detain him. So it came to pass that more than
a week had the meetings continued before he
made one of the congregation. On that par-
ticular evening both he and Mrs. Tresevant were
present. The house was crowded to its utmost
capacity. Mr. Tresevant declined an invitation
to the pulpit, and pushed his way into an ob-
scure corner near the door. His position gave
him a full view of the aged saint upon whose
words the people hung, and before that even-
ing's sermon had been concluded he ceased to
be astonished at the old minister's power over
his audience. Quiet, steady-toned, simple, sol-
emu, with that rare argumentative tone which his
peculiarly logical and scholarly mind gave to all
his sermons. It seemed well-nigh impossible to
withstand the direct, searching truth.

In vain Mr. Tresevant listened for the loud
tones and wild flighu of tancy that he imagined
would be used to rouse people to the highest pitch
of excitement. The speaker's voice seemed no

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 329

louder thau an ordinary conversational one, and
the audience were as quiet and solemn as if the
very solemnity of the grave *„rielf hovered over
them. Those who have heard the aged, hon-
ored saint of whom I speak, know that one of
his peculiar powers as a preacher lies in leaving
upon his hearers the solemn conviction that it
is impossible to avoid the conclusions that have
been thus quietly and logically forced upon
them ; that reason and common sense alike de-
mand their acceptance ; that it would be beyond
even human folly to deny them. Yet there is
more than all this in the man. There is in his
face, in his words, in his tones, aye, in his very
movements, a quiet, restful, pervading sense of
being sustained and guided and uplifted by a
Power out of and beyond himself. It was to
such a sermon, delivered by such a man, that
Mr. Tresevant listened that evening. What
wonder that he ceased to be surprised at results ?
Yet his heart was not in accord with the spirit
of the meeting. How could it be, when a Chris-
tian deliberately and for selfish reasons holds
himself aloof from the sacred and holy influences
by which he might be surrounded? Is it to be
supposed that on his first coming into their midst
the Spirit of God will delight to take up his
abode in that closed heart? Indeed, a strange
feeling, that the poor self-beset man would not

330 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

have dared to own was disappointment, took
possession of him, as looking around upon the
audience, ho saw ne, and another, and another
of the people who belonged nominally to the
Regent Street congregation — people who never
came to church, never evinced any interest in re-
ligion, and yet they were here to-night. "They
hardly ever heard me preach in their lives," he
said to himself, in bitterness, "and yet they
crowd here to-night ! " And he gave himself
up to moody thoughts over, not his own fail-
ures— he never failed,— but over the stupidity
of people. It was from such thoughts as these
that he was suddenly aroused by the mention
of his own name. The aged minister had spied
him from his seat behind one of the columns.
They had met several days before. Mr. Parker
knew of the young clergyman things which his
own heart did not suspect. Ever on the alert
to do good, this veteran in the cause determined
to try to draw the young officer forward. There
was a very general movement in the audience.
Evidently they had been invited to kneel for
prayer, though Mr. Tresevant, brooding over
his own thoughts, had not heard the request.
It was repeated : "Let us all kneel so far as it
is possible, and will our Brother Tresevant come
forward here and lead us in a brief prayer for
the special descent of the Holy Spirit?" Mr.

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 331

Tresevant hesitated, his face flushing painfully.
To refuse to pray would certainly be a strange
thing for a Christian minister to do, yet he was
conscious of feeling very little of the spirit of
prayer; besides, to his morbid fancy the call
forward seemed made for the purpose of draw-
ing him into special and unpleasant notice.
Around the altar were Dr. Willis, Dr. Henry,
Mr. Carland, and several other of the pastors
of different churches, already kneeling, and the
kneeling congregation were already waiting rev-
erently for some one to lead their petitions up
to the throne. Mr. Tresevant arose hurriedly :
he had decided not to go forward, not to kneel.
He could be heard quite as well from where he
stood. There was no use in marchinir down
that long aisle. He was not in the habit of
kneeling when he led in prayer in his own
church; why should he do so here? It was
much more natural and unaffected for him to
maintain his usual posture. Thus he reasoned,
even while he prayed, not especially for the de-
scent of the Holy Spirit, but that "no one's mind
might be carried away by undue excitement;
that none should make the awful mistake of
supposing emotion to be religion ; that all might
realize that religion w7as an every-day matter, not
something to be put into a few days or weeks

332 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

of unusual nervous strain, and then forgotten."
Such was the spirit and tenor of the prayer to
which the great congregation listened. There
were some present, members of the Regent
Street Church, who did not follow the words of
this petition, but who prayed with strong inward
cryings and with tears for their pastor, that he
might not be permitted to do injury to the cause.
There was no distressing silence at the conclu-
sion of Mr. Tresevant's prayer, wherein he re-
membered various benevolent societies and the
numerous missions in foreign lands. The low,
clear voice of Mr. Parker followed close upon
the "Amen," and his first words were, —

"Lord, teach us how to pray, right here and
now, for these waiting, hungry souls."

" One posture is as good as another," said Mr.
Tresevant sourly to himself, as he made his way
out of the church. "I don't believe in making
so much of forms."

" But is one spirit as good as another, poor,
foolish sheep ! that you should be willing to
make so much of forms and postures as to per-
sistently cling to your own in tne face of a gentle
request, from a gray-haired minister of Christ,
to take some other, in the face of a great kneel-
ing congregation ? "

Thus his conscience tried to say to him, but

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 333

he was in no mood to lisien to conscience, and
eagerly bade it remember that he certainly had
as good a right to decide what was proper to do
as had that Mr. Parker.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

" And thou shalt speak unto all that are wise-hearted "

Mes. Tresevant twitched impatiently at the
dainty bit of lavender kid that covered her dainty
hand, her face all in a frown, and her eyes flash-
ing with unusual fire. At last the pent-up tor-
rent burst forth with one final twitch of the
glove that tore it from wrist to finger.

"Mr. Tresevant, Im not going to those meet-
ings any more. I think the way that man
preaches is perfectly horrid, making people feel
as if they were miserable, horrid creatures, that
never did anything right. Not a single com
forting or pleasant thing did he say to-night. "

"I'm sure he had considerable to say about
heaven. Is there nothing comforting and pleas-
ant about that ? " Her husband asked this ques-
tion in a tone half of sarcasm, half of gloom.
He certainly was in no state to bestow the com-
fort that his fretful little wife called for.

"No, there wasn't," she retorted, with in-
creased impatience. " Not a thing, for he made

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 335

me feel as if I should never get there in the
world ; as if I wasn't worth going there, any-
way. I thought it was a minister's business to
comfort people, and cheer them up, and all that
sort of thing, instead of making them feci as
gloomy as grave-stones. I don't like such
preaching nor such meetings — people crying all
around me. I think it is perfectly dreadful.
I don't see what possesses me to go. I've said
almost every evening that I wouldn't go again."

"No one compels you to do so," Mr. Trese-
vant said, coldly. "I supposed, of course, you
enjoyed them, so I have stayed at home with the
baby for several evenings in order to give you
the pleasure of going."

"Oh, now, Carroll, that's just nonsense I
You know just as well as I do that you stayed
at home because you didn't want to go. Ann
just about worships Kossy, and would stay with
him any evening with all her heart. Anyway,
I wouldn't have done as you did to-night. If a
man asked me to kneel down, I declare I
wouldn't have stood up like a post, when every-
body else was kneeling, too. 1 thing ii was
real mean ; it wasn't treating the old man nice a
bit. /wouldn't have done it for anything."

"Perhaps you would have done as duty
prompted you," Mr. Tresevant answered, with
haughty dignity. "At least we will hope so."

336 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Duty!" his wife repeated, irritably, as if
the very mention of the word annoyed her. " I
must say I don't see how you make 'duty' out
of that. It isn't wicked to kneel, is it?"

ff We will not discuss the subject, Laura,"
was Mr. Tresevant's lofty answer. " Not at this
time, at least. You seem to be in no mood for
discussions of any sort."

"I'm not," quickly returned Mrs. Tresevant*
"I hate discussions. I always did. I hate
them now worse than ever. That is the way
that man talks. 'Now let us reason this thing
out,' he says ; and then he reasons and argues
and illustrates until he makes you feel as if you
were absolutely a fool, and that everything you
had been doing and saying and thinking all your
life were silly and wicked. I don't like such
things. I don't see what is the use of them.
If half that that old man said to-night is true,
then we are all simpletons together — -worse
than simpletons, real wicked people, you and I?
and everybody, because we don't live at all like
what he said, and there's no use in talking about
heaven heins: comforting. A great elegant pal-
ace wouldn't comfort me any if it'were all bolted
and barred, and I couldn't get in ; and that's just
the way it seems as if heaven was to-night. It
never has comforted me much, anyway, because
one had to die before one could go there, and I

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 337

always was afraid of dying. It seems perfectly
dreadful — it seems worse than dreadful to me
to-night. Everything is awful, and I don't know
what is the matter with me, anyway."

And the poor little bit of weary, trembling
flesh and blood suddenly threw herself into a
curled up heap on the bed and sobbed outright.

" You are a marked specimen of the judicious-
ness of meetings of this sort," her husband said,
regarding her complacently as a practical work-
ing out of his theory on the subject. "Your
nervous system has been all unstrung, and your
imagination excited to such a degree that you
have no idea what you think or feel about any-
thing. And this is just the sort of result that
I have believed would be obtained by such un-
wise proceedings. I should advise you to bathe
your eyes and head in something cooling, and
compose }'Our mind for rest and sleep, I think
your decision in regard to attending these meet-
ings a wise one. Whatever may be said of their
effect on the common mind, they evidenly are not
adapted to delicate, sensitive organizations."

After this conversation, Mr. Tresevant, at
least, was surprised to hear his wife the next af-
ternoon negotiating with Ann, the favorite cham-
bermaid, and Rossy's devoted admirer and slave,
to take up her station beside the rose-lined crib
for that evening.
22

338 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"I shall not be late, Ann," she said, as that
individual volubly poured forth her willingness
to sit beside him until the day broke in the morn-
ing, e? with all her heart, sure." " It will not be
later than ten o'clock. I am only going around
the corner to the Park Street Church."

" I thought vou were not sroins: to another of
those meetings?" her husband said, question-
ingly, surprise in his eyes and voice, as the
door closed after Ann.

"I'm going this evening," she answered, quiet-
ly, a little flush rising on her cheek in memory
of her emphatic words of the evening before.
"I've changed my mind, and decided that I want
to go once more, anyway."

And Mr. Trescvant, not having the care of
the young tyrant in the crib to quiet his con-
science with, having no letters that demanded
immediate answer, and being withal anxious to
listen to another of those strangely-massive,
strangely-simple sermons, decided to accompany
her. The church was not less crowded than on
the preceding evening — indeed, the sea of heads
seemed greater. The meeting was not less sol-
emn ; the solemnity seemed rather to have in-
creased. There was no recourse but to take a
very back seat this time, that being the only one
left. Jim Forbes and Jenny Adams were occu
pying it in company with two others, and by dint

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 339

of crowding and some uncomfortable ness, they
managed to make room for Mr. and Mrs. Tres-
evant. At the close of a sermon that had been
addressed more to Christians than to the uncon-
verted, Dr. Willis descended from the pulpit,
and seeming to take in with his searching gaze
each separate nice in the mass before him, these
were the words he said : —

"I know there are some before me, members
in good and regular standing of churches, whose
hearts are heavy to-night with a sense of unpar-
doned sin. They have no sense of the nearness
of a Saviour, or if he seems near his presence
fills them with terror instead of joy. I know
there are such in this congregation, because of
the conversation I have had with some of you,
and because of other tokens which I will not
stop now to explain. Now will not such listen
to and heed the call that we give you to-night?
Will you come forward to these vacant seats,
and by your coming say, * I want you to pray for
me that I may find Jesus?' Never mind how
long you may have professed to know him ;
never mind how earnestly Satan may whisper
to you that it will look very strange for a pro-
fessing Christian to take such a step. You are
not obliged to listen to Satan. Christ stands
ready to make you free. My heart is burdened
to-night for those in our churches who have a

340 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

name to live, and who yet know nothing of the
joy of salvation. Dear friends, let me beseech
those of you who feel a lack in your religion,
who feel that someway you do not possess your
birthright, come and let us help you. Not that
coming here will save you. Oh, no, you under-
stand that as well as I do ; there is no need for
me to stop here to explain — only how can we
help you if we do not know who you are? and
how much can you desire help if you are not
willing to take so slight a means to secure it?
Now while we sing one verse will you come?
And any also not calling themselves Christians,
who have ?my desire in their hearts after Christ
to-night, come and let us know it."
Immediately they began to sing, —

" Lord, I come to thee for rest."

There was a movement in the seat at the end
of which Mr. Tresevant sat. A lady in the
corner signified her desire to pass out. It was
necessary for them all to file into the aisle in
order to give her an opportunity. Mr. Trese
vaut stood waiting in the aisle, visible annoy
ance on his face. He did not approve of this
conspicuous and unwise invitation. The lady
was out and moving forward, so were others
from all parts of the house. The rest of the oc-
cupants were reseated, all but Mrs. Tresevant

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 341

and himself. She stood just ahead of him, ap-
parently riveted to the spot. He touched her
arm nervously ; attention was being directed to
them. She glanced around, a rich flush on the
fair child-face, tears in her eyes ; then suddenly
she shook her head, and turning from him passed
swiftly up the aisle, and dropped into the end
of the very foremost seat ! Mr. Tresevant stood
as if spell-bound looking after her. Had one
end of the massive church wall suddenly parted
company with its surroundings and gone to the
front, he could not for the moment have seemed
more amazed. Ills wife ! gone forward in the
Park Street Church to be prayed for, and he a
minister of the gospel ! Becoming suddenly
aware of the fact that many eyes were on him,
he precipitately retired into his seat, feeling
sorely tempted to take his hat and rush from the
room, leaving his foolish wife to reach home as
best she might. Veiy little further knowledge
of the meeting did he possess. He devoted him-
self to his own thoughts, and very gloomy ones
they were. Bitterly did he regret not having
prevailed upon his wife to remain at home. He
pictured the scene that he should have with the
excited, frightened, sobbing creature when once
they were at home. He imagined her chagrin
and annoyance, her vexation at him for not in
some wav checking her wild. hopr!]r>^ .., .♦;. ,,, _

342 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

this part to come after the excitement had sub-
sided. He groaned inwardly over the whole
wretched business and the talk that would re-
sult from it. One of the hotel boarders joined
them in their short homeward walk, so there
was no opportunity for special conversation.

Arrived at the privacy of their own rooms,
Mrs. Tresevant did not seem to be in haste to
say anything, neither did there seem to be any
special excitement to subdue. She stood for
some moments looking down on the fair treas-
ure in the crib, then bent and pressed soft
kisses on the sweet lips and flushed cheeks.
Very quietly she disposed of her outside wrar>*
pings, then finally came over to the silent figure
looking at space from out the depths of the
rocking-chair.

" Are you displeased at what I did to-night,
Carroll?" She rested her hand half timidly on
his arm, and spoke in low, gentle tones.

"I am very much amazed," he answered,
coldly.

"I was afraid you would be; but, indeed, I
could not help it. I'll tell you all about it. I
have thought all the week a great deal about
these things — ever since I went to that first
meeting. I began to understand that something
about me was wrong. I knew I did not feel
u«jr act like other Christians. You know, Car

WISE AND 0THEBWI8E. 343

roll, I was never a member of the church until
a little while before we were married. Mamma
said I ought to be, because I was going to marry
a clergyman. I didn't understand about it, and
Dr. Lawrence came to see me, and he seemed
to think it was all right, and so, you know, I
united with his church. But all this past sum-
mer there have been times when I have been
very unhappy. Mrs. Sayles made me so —
frightened me a great many times. I did not
understand her at all ; she looked at everything
from a different standpoint from me. For a
long time I thought it was because she was such
a peculiar woman, different from any one else;
and she used to provoke me because she was
uncomfortably good. Then after Dell Bronson
came, that explanation did not do any longer,
for she is just as different from Mrs. Sayles as
day is from night; and yet in those things —
the way they talked about religion, you know,
and the way they lived it — they were just alike ;
and I began to watch people, and I found a good
many were like them. Then I began to suspect
that I didn't know anything about being a Chris-
tian ; but it used to vex me to think so. I
wanted to believe that I was all ricrht, and I
tried hard to ; but the very first evening that I
went to the Park Street Church I saw, oh9 such
a difference ! I can't explain it to you ; but I

344 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

just knew that I had nothing in common with
the Saviour about whom they were talking, aud
I was so very, very miserable. Again and again
I would resolve not to go there, but something
seemed to force me there against my will. To-
night the misery reached its climax, and I felt
that I must do something. When Dr. Willis
iuvited the people forward he just described
me, and something seemed to say to me that I
must go. I thought I could not, in my posi-
tion, you know; and yet I felt that I should
never have any peace again if I did not. I
hope you are not offended with me, Carroll?"

"No," he said, in a voice still stiff and con-
strained. "You, of course, had a right to do
as you thought proper ; and yet, Laura, if you
felt the need of help, it seems only natural to
me to think that I, your husband, could have
helped you better than any of those strange min-
isters could possibly have done."

Mrs. Tresevant drew a little sigh.

"It isn't that, Carroll," she said, earnestly.
"I haven't made 3*011 understand. I needed
help, I felt it with all my heart ; but not human
help. I wanted to find the Lord. I knew he
was precious to other people, in a way that was
all blind to me ; aud I thought if I can not just
go down a church aisle to show him how much
in earnest I am, I can not expect him to come

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 345

to me. I remembered your position, Carroll,
and that was why I hesitated at all ; but I
thought I could not possibly disgrace it more
than by living the sort of life I had. I thought
a great many people would understand just how
I felt, and that in any case I must get rid of my
dreadful burden or sink under it. And, Car-
roll. I found help. Those ministers didn't help
me, that I know of, though I was very, very
grateful to them for praying for me; but the
Saviour himself came and sought me, and
seemed to take hold of my hand. I gave my-
self to him as I never did before, and he gave
me rest and peace. I think I shall be a differ-
ent wife now, Carroll."

He drew her down to him and pressed his
lips to her glowing cheek.

"You do not need to be," he said, gently.
"You are very dear to me just as you are."

He did not mean it — all of it. Not that he
did not love his wife after a certain fashion ;
but there had been a hundred, perhaps a thou-
sand things, that he had wished were different.
There had been no end to the chances for im-
provement in her that he could see at times ;
but just then, with that soft, new light glowing
iu her eyes, with a sort of child-like pathos in
her voice, as she told over her simple, solemn
Btory, she had suddenly seemed unutterably

346 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

dear to him. He watched her with a sort of
half reverence as they went about preparing
for the nisjht. He recognized a new li«rht in

O o o

her face. " She has certainly gone up higher,"
he said to himself. Yes, she had — gone even
to the foot of the cross of Christ, and found
acceptance there.

CHAPTER XXIX.

The king's favor is toward a wise servant"

J\k. Raymond, of Newton, was concluding a
letter to Mr. Edward Stockwell, of Boston, — a
business letter it was ; but the two gentleman
had beeu acquaintances of years' standing, and
w'ere neither so intimate that he liked the look
of sending to him a brief business epistle, such
as very particular friends feel at perfect liberty
to do waen they get in a hurry, nor so uninti-
mate t'iiat a brief, formal note would be all that
would be expected from him ; so he hesitated,
clipping' his pen into the ink to save time while
he thought how he could best fill the few lines
left on the page in a way to interest the Boston
merchant. The Church ? Aye, the very thing.
Where was there a Church of Christ in which
Mr. Stockwell was not interested? He dashed
on again.

" You have doubtless heard of our interesting
winter here, and the blessed results in our
church. Our Brother Parker carried away

847

348 WISE AND OTHEKWISE.

with him the prayers and the hearts of half the
town. Dr. Willis has also concluded his labors
among us, and gone. We would gladly have
kept him with us, but he was pledged to the
West before he came as our supply, and only
waited for spring in order to flit. Now we are
sheep without a shepherd." There were just
two lines more to fill ; the pen paused an in-
stant, then moved on. "I suppose you have
no valued protege that you could highly recom-
mend to us as a pastor, have you?"

Then came the " Yours truly," and the letter
was hurriedly signed and sealed, receiving no
further thought from Mr. Raymond.

About that time, Dell Bronson, in her back
corner room at Mrs. Ainslie's, finished and di-
rected a letter to her uncle ; arose with it in
her hand ready for sealing, and paused irreso-
lute. "Uncle Edward will think I am very
uncommunicative and dignified with him," she
said, reseating herself. "I'll just acid a line."

"P. S. Mr. Nelson's engagement with the
church he was supplying has closed somewhat
earlier than he expected. The pastor returned
from abroad about two months before the ap-
pointed time. Of course the church invited
Mr. Nelson to remain the full time; but there
was no occasion for his doing so, and he felt
that it would be better for all concerned to get

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 349

permanently settled as soon as possible. His
plans are indefinite for the future. I will en-
deavor to keep you posted in regard to them."

Two days thereafter these two letters came
in with half a score of others, and were laid on
Mr. Edward StockwelTs office desk. He came
to Mr. Eaymond's first, made an item of the
business answer to be made, then tumbled over
the other business-looking documents, in hope
of news from Dell, and finally drew out her
letter.

"Ah!" he said, wTith brightening face, hav-
ing read the "P. S." "That is pleasant now.
It is not often that question and answer come
so close together. That is just the church, and
he is just the man. I'll wTrite to Raymond im-
mediately."

It wras all these apparently trivial circum-
stances combined that caused a quick, firm
knock to be given one day at Mrs. Ainslie's
kitchen door. Dell Bronson, alone in the
kitchen, stopped to rinse a bit of lemon juice
from her hands before she answered it. A
March day, and very blustering, — such a day
as only sour, solemn March nan produce. The
winter had sped away ; at least it was courtesy
and according to the almanac to call this month
spring, though never a sign of spring was to be
seen, save one sore-footed, sad-voiced robin 3

350 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

still it was undeniable that many months of
winter were gone ; and Dell still reigned mis-
tress of the Ainslie kitchen. Blessed reign !
How the mistress in the parlor actually grew
smiling and eager, as she detailed to envious
friends the story of her marvelous help, end-
ing, however, with a sigh : "The worst of it is,
she is engaged, and I am living in torments
every day for fear her intended will come in
search of her. I've been in hopes they would
quarrel, or something ; but I don't think they
have, for the letters seem to come regularly,
and Delia doesn't quarrel with anybody."

Well, there had been changes. There was a
great deal of comfort in that kitchen now ; so
neat and bright and clean, it had unquestiona-
bly brightened the lives of both Mr. and Mrs.
Ainslie to be able to take their meals in clean-
liness and peace, to say nothing of the dainty
dishes that "the cook" knew how to concoct.
There had been more marked changes than
these. Of a stormy evening, when Mrs. Ains-
lie was alone and felt particularly lonely, she
had fallen into the habit of opening the kitchen
door just as Dell was preparing to ascend the
stairs, and saying, "Bring your sewing into the
sitting-room, Delia. The wind blows so it makes
me feel dismal to be all alone." During these
evenings she talked much of the little Laurie

WISE AXD OTHERWISE. 351

who had died. She showed Dell the little whito
dress that he had worn the last time she took
him to walk with her; and Dell, tender tears
in her eyes, could not resist speaking of the
beautiful white dress that he wore in heaven.
The mother answered, sighing, "You speak as
if heaven were only across the street, or out in
the country a little way ; it all seems so unreal
to me." And this gave opportunity for another
chance word to drop, and so gradually they fell
into the habit of talking about these things dur-
ing many a stormy evening ; and occasionally,
when Dell dusted the morning room, there
would be an open Bible, sometimes with a verse
marked. Once it was, "Sutler the little chil-
dren, and forbid them not, to come unto me,
for of such is the kingdom of heaven." At
another time, "I shall go to him."

So slowly, but surely, Dell felt that little
Laurie was leading his mother home ; and what
Christian heart will fail to understand the thrill
of joy that it gave her to be permitted to point
the way? Other things there were to be grate-
ful for. Ilarric, the slatternly girl, whose name
was Harriet, and who assured Dell that folks
called her Ilarric "for short," had certainly been
a trial — good-humored, bright enough, but
hopelessly careless and indifferent alike to her-
self and her lot. You should have seen Ilarrio

352 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

that day when she ran to her room, about five
minutes before dinner was sent in, and came
back with her brown hair smooth and shining,
and her white apron neatly ruffled, bib and all,
immaculate in its purity ! She was certainly a
joy to Dell's heart. Of very slow growth had
been these changes, dating their starting point
in an effort to please the only one with whom
she had ever came in close contact who had not
called her "an awful slovenly-looking thing."
But Dell had worked for more than the smooth
hair and white apron, worked almost hopeless-
ly, because of Harrie's utter unconcern ; yet will
she ever forget that winter evening, when she sat
alone in her own room writing to Mr. Nelson,
that Harrie, actually remembering first to knock,
came with glowing cheeks and stammering
tongue, and finally a burst of honest tears, to
sa}r that she Wanted to be good if she r: could
only find out how?" With what alacrity was
that unfinished letter pushed aside for this more
important matter. With what simple earnest-
ness did she go over and over the few plain steps
to take in order to reach the never-failing way.
Oh, it was a well-remembered evening, an even-
ing to be thankful for during all her future life,
for Harrie's face wras bright next morning, and
she said, as Dell stopped on her way down
Btairs to waken her, "I'm awake, and I'll be in

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 353

time ; you needn't be afraid ; and it's just as you
said. He loves me, I feel it all over me, and
I'll love you forever, that I will." Faults liar-
ric certainly had left yet. "Most people had,"
Dell reflected ; yet the transformation was plain
enough for Mrs. Ainslie to remark to her hus-
band,—

" If anybody wants to be convinced that there
is actually such a thing as a religion that makes
people over, they have only to live five months
in the house with a girl like Harrie Jones as she
was, and then three months with her as she ig,"

"I don't think it's religion so much as it is
that cook," Mr. Ainslie remarked, as he helped
himself to another piece of the cook's orange pie.

"Well," Mrs. Ainslie said, thoughtfully,
" what makes her so different from other peo-
ple?1'

"Ah!" answered Mr. Ainslie, "there you
have me."

"/ believe it's her religion," his wife said,
emphatically. " And Harrie has the same thing.
She tries to please me nowadays. She never
did that before."

"Ye arc my witnesses, saith the Lord."

Well, there came that firm knock at the

kitchen door, and Dell, drying her hands,

opened it. She gave a faint little scream, a

suppressed, "O Homer ! " and theu the ludicroua

23

354 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

predominated, and she laughed outright and

merrily. Mrs. Ainslie's " daily torment " had
actually arrived, in he came, with a serio-
comic look on his face, and meekly took a seat
on the wooden chair.

" Homer, what possessed you to come around
to the back door?" she presently asked him.

"Didn't you write me that you always came
around, and give me a flourishing account of the
walk that you had laid thereto? You didn't
suppose that I was going to patronize the front
walk after that, I hope?"

"O Homer!" she said, the absurdity of her
position overcoming her once more. "You'll
have to eat at the second table with Harrie and
me."

"Certainly," he answered, briskly. "I'm
glad you'll kindly sit down with us. I thought
you were going to leave the ' me ' out. I hope
Harrie has her hair combed for the occasion?"

" Her hair is looking beautiful. She is a very
nice girl. Do you know, I've just thought, I'll
have to ask Mrs. Ainslie's permission before I
can give you any dinner!" This last was too
much for their mutual gravity. Such an hon-
ored guest as Mr. Kelson had been in her Uncle
Edward's city home.

ITarric came out from the dining-room for
something that was wanted, and eyed them cu-

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 355

Kously, the gentleman with a somewhat awc-
Btricken air. On her return she left the door
ajar.

"Who is in the kitchen?" they heard Mrs.
Ainslie's voice inquire, and Harrie's promptly
answer, —

"A man."

"To see Delia?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Ainslie's sigh was distinctly audible.

"Jus* as I expected," she groaned.

"That is certainly more than I can say," mur-
uwred Dell ; and Mrs. Ainslie continued : —

"Now there will be no more peace for me;
an.! I actually don't see how I can keep house
without her."

"If you please, ma'am," chimed in Harrie's
voice, "I guess it's her minister come to see
her."

"Not the slightest doubt about that," was
Mr. Nelson's emphatic comment ; then Mrs.
Ainslie : —

"Nonsense. It is much more likely to be her
lover."

M What remarkable powers of penetration that
woman possesses ! "

Mr. Nelson said this in a voice so nearly
aloud that Dell went in a panic and closed the
dining-room door.

356 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Now before ibe bewildered Harric appears
to us again, let us talk business," Mr. Nelson
said, briskly. "Do yon know what I've come
for?" •

"I thought, possibly, to see mo."

" More than that. I've come after you."

" After me ! " in an amazed voice and with
glowing cheeks.

"Just that. I am on my way to Newton, in-
vited there to preach in the Park Street Church
next Sabbath, through your instrumentality, I
fancy ; and to insure my welcome in certain
quarters I concluded to stop on my way and
carry you with me."

"But, Homer, I can't possibly go ; it wouldn't
be just to Mrs. Ainslic. Didn't you hear her
say she couldn't keep house without me?"

"Neither can I ; so it?s only a choice between
persons."

"Ah, but," said Dell, blushing and laughing,
"you have no house to keep. I don't see how
I can take a vacation just now. She is expect-
ing company, and it would disappoint her very
much."

"That is only a question of degree. Pray how
much will it disappoint me if you don't go?"

The dishes began to pour out now from the
dining-room ; there was no chance for further
talk. Mrs. Ainslie summoned Dell to her
room, and anticipated some of her troubles.

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 357

w Bring your friend in to dinner, Delia." She
was not wont to be so thoughtful. rf Is he your
particular friend?" And as Dell bowed in an-
swer with very fiery cheeks, " I must get a peep
at him. Harrie thinks he looks like a minister.
Delia, I hope he hasn't come after you?"

This was as good an opportunity as any, and
Dell explained : —

"He is going to visit among my friends at
Newton for a few days, and they would like me
to come if you can spare me."

"What — right away? Oh, tliat is just im-
possible ! You know I am going to have com-
pany. And yet, oh, dear me, what a nuisance !
I could get Mrs. Smiley to come in by the day ;
but I would much rather have you even than her,
and she is a professional cook. But then you
have been just as good and faithful as you could
be. I never had such help before. Yes, Delia,
you may go. I declare I'll put up with it."

And Deli thanked her, a triumphant light in
her eyes, partly because of the pleasure in store,
and partly because of this new evidence of
growth. Mrs. Ainslie had triumphed over her
besetting sin.

The dinner passed off triumphantly, Mr. Nel-
son keeping up such a series of polite attentions
to Harrie as to keep her in a bashful giggle of
delight. But the climax was to come after din-

358 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

ncr when the lady of the house came to get her
"peep." Dell, in her plain, neat calicoes and
ruffles, had been sufficiently bewildering ; but
she had often seen the spectacle of pretty, lady-
like girls- bestowing themselves on blundering,
worthy farmers ; so when she came out to give
kindly patronage to "Delia's friend," and was
confronted by the tall form and cultured face of
Mr. Nelson, with his unmistakable broadcloth
and his unmistakably ministerial air, something
of the same awe that had beset Harrie overcame
her, and the patronage was decidedly on his side.

"You don't understand it in the least," Dell
said, merrily, as Mr. Nelson having gone down
town, she awaited his return in the dining-
room, herself ready dressed for a journey, and
Mrs. Ainslic hovering nervously around.

"No, I don't," that lady answered, relieved
of this opportunity of speaking her mind. "Is
he really a minister, and who arc you, anyway ?"

"He is really a minister, and "I am a good,
honest girl, I hope, with a good, honest name,
Delia Bronson."

Mrs. Ainslie's puzzled face did not look re-
lieved.

"But I don't understand," she repeated. "If
you are really a poor girl how arc you mixed up
with him? Delia, I am afraid he is deceiving
you."

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 359

Dell laughed outright. She could afford to.
This was genuine anxiety for her welfare, not
unkind curiosity.

"Dear Mrs. Ainslie," she said, merrily, "why
should you be so dismayed? If I nrado your
dresses or taught your neighbors children it
wouldn't surprise you to know that I was to
marry a minister. Why should the fact that I
cook your meats and make your pies be so for-
midable an obstacle?"

"But it is so very unusual," Mrs. Ainslie
said, still looking troubled.

" 1 know ; people seem to have gotten the im-
pression that potatoes and turnips and onions
arc very degrading things — it isn't that, cither.
I might cook them by the bushel in my father's
house, and still marry a minister if he asked mo
— nothing is more common ; but because I cook
them in yours the thins* becomes de£rradin£.
Aren't the distinctions of society comical things,
Mrs. Ainslie?"

That lady actually laughed.

"It docs seem absurd," she admitted. "At
least, you put the matter in an absurd light, or
else, dear me ! I don't know what I think.
There arc not many girls like you, Delia."

"No," said Dell, frankly; "that I'll admit.
I've had different advantages from most of thoso
who go out to service. I was brought up by

360 WISE AXD OTHERWISE.

my uncle, a wealthy man ; be lost his furtune ;
I was thrown on my own resources — a very
common story, you see, repeated everyday. I
had other resources from the one I chose, but I
wanted to discover for myself what was the
reason that so many good, competent cooks
would rather starve than do that sort of work.
I wanted, for my future benefit, to come in con-
tact with that sort of life ; and I'm not in the
least sorry that I tried it."

"Then IVe got to lose you," said Mrs. Ains-
lie, dire dismay in her face and voice.

Deli laughed.

"Well, not just yet," she said, brightly. "I'll
come back after my week's holiday, and make
you some bewildering cake in time for the
sociable."

" Well," Dell said, with her merriest laugh,
"what is it? I hwiv you think something is
out of order."

They were standing in the depot waiting for
the train, and Mr. Nelson, all unconsciously,
had been surveying her from head to foot, with
a most perplexed air. He joined in her laugh
before he explained.

"I don't in the least know what it is. You
certainly look perfectly neat and proper in every
respect ; and yet you look very unlike your-
self."

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 361

"I'm dressed in a manner befitting my station
in life, if you please," she answered him, drop-
ping the vvcest bit of a mock courtesy as she
spoke. " Without an unnecessary rufflo or tuck
or puff, and your solemn look of bewilderment
only serves to show how utterly unprepared you
gentlemen are for having the ladies practice in
the matter of dress what you are forever preach-
ing."

"That's an unjust statement. My look may
have been bewildered, but not solemn. I hon-
estly think you look very nice ; and I should
very soon become accustomed to it. The only
present difficulty is, that it simply isn't you.
But I should quarrel with one statement. Is
there any reason why an unnecessary ruffle or
tuck should be proper on the dress of a lady
who sits down to her sewing in the afternoon,
having prepared her own dinner in the morn-
ing, and highly improper for a lady who sits at
her sewing of an afternoon, having prepared
Mrs. Ainslie's dinner in the morning?"

"Not the slightest," was Dell's prompt an-
swer. " But that is my concession to the exist-
ing sentiment on the subject, and that is my
conclusion in regard to this bewildering social
question. If certain mistresses and certain
maids could be brought together, and each side
be persuaded to make about six concessions, the

862 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

millennial day would have dawned for those two
classes of martyrs."

Behold Dell the next morning in her old room
under the Sayles family roof, making ready for
the somewhat late breakfast. A rich, soft cash-
mere morning robe enveloping her once more,
trailing gracefully behind her; her hair in its
old accustomed waves ; everything about hoi
in exquisite taste and keeping. She smiled t<s
herself at the thought of the ridiculous figure
she would make getting breakfast in Mrs. Ains-
lie's kitchen in this attire. There was evident!}
a fitness in things. She smiled again when she
met Mr. Nelson in the hall ; felt rather than saw
his rapid survey, and beheld his satisfied air.
He evidently considered her as "being herself"
The foolish man hadn't the least idea that it
would swallow three times his probable salary
to keep Dell looking as her uncle's millions had
done. It was well for him that his promised
wife thoroughly understood the situation, and
also had a sense of the fitness 0f things.

CHAPTER XXX.

" For vain man would be wise."

"Wilt thou take this man to be thy wedded
husband, to live together after God's ordinance
in the holy estate of matrimony ; wilt thou love
and honor him, eherish and comfort him in sick-
ness and in health ; and forsaking all others,
keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both
shall live?"

It was Mr. Tresevant's voice that sounded
down the aisles of the Park Street Church, ask-
ing these old, solemn questions. It was Dell
Bronson's voice, sweet, full and clear, that an-
swered him, —

rI will."

And the minister proceeded :

"After these vows thus solemnly made by you
both in the presence of God and these witnesses,
I pronounce you husband and wife, in the mime
of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Ghost. Let us pray."

Brief and solemn was the prayer ; then the

364 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

bride and groom, followed by their special
friends, moved down the aisle, and the sea of
heads on either side turned and looked after,
and stretched their necks to get a glimpse of
their new pastor and his new wife, Rev. and
Mrs. Homer Nelson. The bridal party went
directly to the home of Mr. Jerome Sayles foi
the purpose of receiving their friends. Look-
ers on from behind window-blinds said, as they
watched the triumphal procession, "It was very
strange, if she had a home, that she didn't go to
it to get married, instead of choosing a place
where she hadn't a single relation : but they had
always heard that she was odd." Dell had can-
vassed this question herself. Uncle Edward's
dear home stood eagerly open for her, and she
would have liked it just a little better to have
gone out from that home in her bridal robes,
but there were other considerations. She could
count by the dozen, people, old and poor, and
with few pleasures, who would never forget the
joy of attending their pastor's wedding; there
were certain members of her Sabbath-school
class, factory girls, who rarely kept holiday, —
her wedding would bo a marked era in their
lives ; there was a certain bright-eyed little
maiden, who would be in a perfect flutter of
wondering delight over a bride in real lace and
diamonds, and that was Jennie Adams. Dell

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 365

decided to forego the pleasures of a Boston
wedding, and accept the hospitalities of Mr.
and Mrs. Jerome Sayles. So Jennie Adams
and Jim Forbes were among the invited guests
at the reception. Mrs. Ainslie also was pres-
ent, in a perfect bewilderment still as regarded
her idea of things, calling the bride "Delia" at
one moment, and apologizing in blushing con-
fusion the next. Dell at one time was reminded
forcibly of another wedding at which she had
been a guest. She looked about her and counted
those present who had been at that other wed-
ding. There were the Winthrops, of Boston,
and Mr. and Mrs. Tresevant — only Mrs. Tres-
evant was the bride on that other evening, and
Mr. Tresevant was not the groom. There also
were Mr. Nelson and herself. With a little
laugh at her own folly, she changed her posi-
tion and took one opposite Mr. Kelson, as she
remembered standing for a few moments that
other evening. She remembered just how ho
looked then, and she was trying to trace the
changes, when she heard Mr. Tresevant's voice
near her.

" I don't remember," he said. " Perhaps Mrs.
Nelson will recall it?"

Mrs. Nelson ! — that was a newT name; how
unfamiliar it sounded. She looked about her
in search of a Mrs. Nelson, while Mr. Tresevant

36Q WISE AND OTHERWISE.

asked his question and awaited bis reply. Mr.
Nelson came to the rescue with grave voice but
mischievous eyes.

" Mrs. Kelson, I think you cannot have under-
stood Mr. Tresevant's question."

And the bride turned with glowing face to
her questioner ; she had that very moment dis-
covered who Mrs. Nelson was.

Our new bride and groom did many things
outside of the conventional groove in which such
people are supposed to walk. Among others
they did not take a bridal tour. There were
matters in his parish that seemed to claim Mr.
Nelson's immediate attention. There was a
special work that he wished to do before the
season changed. Dell explained the matter in
characteristic fashion to ths wondering Mrs.
Ainslie.

"The fact is, we arc not ready to go a jour-
ney. There is nowhere in particular that we
want to go just now, and we do particularly
want to remain at home. I never could under-
stand why people must rush off on the cars or
steamboats just as soon as they are married. "

"Sure enough," Mrs. Ainslie said. tcI don't
know any good reason for it, only people alwa}'s
do it, and it scerns rather strange not to ; but
you are queer, Delia. I always said so when
you lived with me, you know ; and since I have

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 367

known so much more about you, I really think
you are queerer than ever."

It came to pass in the course of the following
winter that the people of whom Dell expected
to sec very little she saw a great deal. Mrs.
Trescvant fell into the habit of running to advise
with Mrs. Nelson on all topics of interest. Life
had opened in a new channel to that little
woman. For the first time she began to take
an interest in things outside of herself. She
had opened her eyes, Mrs. Douglass said, and
discovered that there were people in the world
beside Mrs. Trescvant. They were very unlike
still, these two ministers' wives. Mrs. Trese-
vant was dollish and kittenish, and whatever ex-
presses the idea of childishness yet, and would
probably always remain so. Religion does not
change our natures, it only tones them. Mrs.
Trescvant leaned, and always would lean, on
Mrs. Nelson. The stronger nature asserted it-
self. The beaut}- of it was that she chose just
that person to cling to instead of some unsafe
prop.

Meanwhile life still went hard with Mr. Trcs
evant, all the harder because he looked upon
Mr. Kelson as a powerful rival, whose influence
he resented, instead of accepting him as a co-
worker. Moreover, this poor man was dissat-
isfied with himself, utterly and entirely, and

368 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

when a man arrives at that state, and yet makes
no effort, and indeed has no desire to get into a
better condition of heart and life, he is to be
pitied. Perhaps that is hardly fair. He did de-
sire a change ; but that desire was not strong
enough to make him willing to admit himself in
the wrong.

"Flow will it all end?" Mrs. Douglass asked,
in a half-petulant, half-hopeless tone, after she
had been recounting one of Mr. Tresevant's
deeds that seemed more than usually absurd.

Her husband answered her reverently : —

"God knows."

Aye, God knew. The winter Sabbath morn-
ing was very bleak and blustering; compara-
tively few people were abroad ; the church bells
were tolling dismally, as if they had not much
hope of coaxing people to come out in the snow
and sleet. Up in Mr. Tresevant's parlor an
anxious group were assembled. Dell and her
husband were over by the window conversing
in undertone. Mr. Tresevant paced the floor,
making vain efforts to seem self-controlled and
at ease. In a low chair near the fire the pale
little mother sat holding a very snow-flake of a
baby in her arms. You needed only to glance
at the limp form and heavy eyes of the wee darl-
ing to understand why there was such a look of
terror on the mother's face, and why Dr. Doug-

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 369

lass stood so sadly looking- down on them both.
Mrs. Trcsevant suddenly broke the stillness.

"O Carroll, don't go to church to-day.
Everybody will excuse you. Don't leave us,
Carroll."

"Of course you will be excused," Dell said,
impulsively. It would have been better if she
had kept quiet. Her voice seemed to annoy
Mr. Tresevaut.

"Nonsense!" he said impatiently. "Why
should I not go to church? I don't belong to
the privileged class, who may stay at home on
account of the weather."

Dr. Douglass caught an imploring glance from
the poor mother's eyes, and turned toward her
husband. He was used at such times to having
people hang on his lightest word, so he said,
briefly,—

" I think you will be justified in remaining at
home, Mr. Tresevant."

Mr. Tresevant was exceedingly annoyed.
Had they decided to do with him whatever they
would ? He answered haughtily, —

"Of course my own conseicncc must be my
jostifier in the matter. I shall preach as usual."

"O Carroll! what if — if you should never
see our little darling again?" It was his wife's
pitiful tones that murmured this appeal.
24

370 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

The father's face paled visibly, but be an-
swered in irritation, —

"Laura, don't be so childish. The baby is
better, his breathing is easier, and I don't feel
in the least alarmed at the result. You have
worked yourself into a very nervous state."

Not a word said Dr. Douglass, nor did be
move his watchful eyes from the sweet baby
face. A close observer would have drawn no
crumb of comfort from the look on that doctor's
face. Mr. Kelson made one more effort. As
he drew on his gloves preparatory to leaving —
bis wife had spent the night with Mrs. Tresevant
in the sick room, and had decided to remain with
her, — he crossed over to Mr. Tresevant's side,
and spoke in low tones, —

"If you want to send a message, Brother
Tresevant, you know I pass your church, and
shall be very glad to servo you. There is
plenty of time."

"Thank you," said Mr. Tresevant. "I will
walk with you as far as my church. It is near-
ly time for service."

It was in the midst of Mr. Tresevant's ser-
mon, which was a peculiarly eloquent one, that
one of the officers of the church walked up the
aisle with that peculiar movement and look
which betokened a message so important that
all embarrassment at delivering it at such a

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 371

time was lost. The wondering clergyman
paused as his parishioner ascended the pulpit
steps — half a dozen whispered words, and Mr.
Trescvant grew as pale as the marble flower-
stand whereon his hand rested. He staggered
backward a step, then suddenly turned and went
swiftly and silently down the steps, down tho
aisle, out at the door. It was Judge Benson
who had been the messenger. His voice trcm-
bled visibly as he spoke to the waiting congre-
gation.

"My friends, word has come to our pastor
that the ano-el of death is hovering around his
threshold, waiting for his only son. Let us
pray."

It was a very quiet room into which Mr*
Trescvant presently burst. His wife was sit-
ting in very nearly the position in which he had
left her, their baby in her lap. Dr. Douglass
knelt in front of her, his finger feeling carefully
on the limp, damp wrist for the fluttering pulse.
Mrs. Nelson stood a little apart, near enough to
be ready for instant service should service be re-
quired— far enough not to seem to be a watchei
of the voiceless agony in the mother's face.
There was no quietness about Mr. Tresevant's
entrance, nor in his manner. He was nearly
wild with excitement and anguish. He had
more than half believed his own words in tho

372 WISE ASD OTHERWISE.

morning, and bad gone away persuaded in his
own mind that his child was better. It was
evident now to the most unskilled eye that death
had set his seal on the beautiful baby face, but
Mr. Tresevant would not believe it yet. Ho
rang the bell furiously ; he sent an imperative
message after Dr. Thomas ; he declared there
had been nothing done for the child, that they
were sitting stupidly by and letting him die.
Dr. Thomas came, and spoke that most hateful
of all hateful sentences in the chamber of death,
ff It was too late to do anything. If he had been
called before he might have been of service."'
Dr. Thomas enjoyed this sentence — it was rare-
ly that he had opportunity to say anything in
the presence of Dr. Douglass ; people who had
confidence in the one were apt to ignore the
other. Dr. Douglass set his lips a little more
firmly and schooled himself to endure in utter
silence, while he continued his ministrations to
the dying child. Dr. Thomas talked in his loud-
est professional tone on the cause and effect of
disease, and the utter absurdity of allowing
people to die. Nobody listened to him, but
that seemed to make no difference. In the
midst of his harangue Mrs. Tresevant summoned
her husband to her side.

"Carroll, won't you send him away? It is
of no use. Dr. Douglass has done everything

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 373

— everyt/nm ; but baby is going. God has
called him, he is going fast ; and won't you send
that man away? See, his voice disturbs my
darling."

Mr. Tresevant went slowly over to the doc-
tor's side. It had been easier to send for him
than it was to dismiss him. He went ponder-
ing what words he should say. He was already
sorry for his hasty summons. There was no
time for words to him. Mrs. Tresevant spoke
sharply.

w Carroll ! O Carroll, come quick ! He wants
to kiss you. Oh, my darling, my blessed little
darling ! "

The father turned quickly, but in that brief
space the precious opportunity was gone ; the
sweet baby lips settled into the beautiful solemn
stillness of death ; the bright e}7es were closed ;
baby's last kiss lingered fresh on his mother's
lips, but the poor father missed even this conso-
lation.

CHAPTER XXXI.

11 For nil this I considered in my henrt, even to declare nil this,
that the righteous, and the wise, and their works, are in the hand
of God."

Tiiex occurred one of those wondrous mira-
cles which grace is quietly accomplishing through
this world ; at least the lookers-on noticed it
for the first time. The child-wife and child
mother, who had yielded all her life to what-
ever influence possessed her most strongly at
the time, looked upon the beautiful face of her
dead idol, and was quiet and controlled. She
kissed his closed eyes, his still lips, his rings
of brown hair, his dimpled hands, long clinging
kisses. She nestled his lifeless form to her in
a close embrace of unutterable yearning; then
she arose and laid him on the bed, and to her
husband she said, "Carroll, he is ours just the
same, you know, only God wanted him to come
nearer to him ; and I do not wonder ; it is not
strange that Jesus loves to have him. He could
not bear to have him down here in dangci aud
sorrow. I can understand that feeling.'"

874

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 375

Sho robed him herself for his little coffin, lin-
gering over every button unci string, kissing the
small cold foot, ere she drew on the dainty stock-
ing and fastened the kid slipper for the last time.
Only Dell was with her, and to her quiet offers
of assistance the poor mother answered, —

"I like to do it all myself, you know, because
he Avas so very timid ; he never liked to have
anybody but me to dress him. Of course it
makes no difference now ; but I can't help want-
ing to do it."

"How can you be sure that it makes no dif-
ference now?" Dell asked, with the tears drop-
ping quietly on the soiled garments that she was
gathering, and that baby had cast off forever.

Mrs. Trescvant looked up quickly, a look of
wistful eagerness.

"Do you think it may be possible that ho
would rather have my hands about him than any
others even now?" she asked, with trembling
earnestness*

"It can not be wrong to think so ; and I do
not know why it may not be possible for him to
see you, his dear mamma, bending over his
body. I never could understand what harm
there could be in giving free rein to our imaixi-
nations about such things. We arc not likely
to disappoint ourselves ; ' neither hath it entered
into the heart,' you know."

376 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

" O Dell ! " said Mrs. Tresevant, "you do say
such comforting things. You make me feel as
if heaven were only up stairs, or behind that
screen. It used to seem so very far away ; but
I think it has come down to me. I used to
wonder how Mrs. Sayles could speak of her
friends who had died, as if they were only next
door ; but I understand it this minute. My
darling hasn't gone very, very far away. Poor
Carroll ! it is hard for him. I have always
heard it was harder for fathers to part with their
only sons."

In silent wonderment Mrs. Nelson listened to
this woman who had always seemed so worldly,
so full of self and so very childish. Childlike
she was still, but the great, unselfish, eternal
love had penetrated to her very soul and
whitened every thought.

"How beautiful he is !" Mrs. Tresevant said
a little later, as she stood with her husband be-
side the white casket and looked at the pure
baby face in its peaceful sleep. "Carroll, how
lovely he must be to-night ! he has been long
enough in heaveu to catch some of its glory."

"Do you feel that, Laura?" Her husband
asked the question abruptly, almost harshly.

"Feel what?" she asked him, in a startled
tone.

"Feel such a sense of the reality of heaveu,

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 377

and the certainty of his presence there, that it
comforts you?"

"I do, oh, I do!" she answered, earnestly.
*fOncc I did not ; heaven was just a great dreary
blank ; but it is so near to-night, and I can al-
most sec my darling right in Jesus' arms. Car-
roll, if it were not for that, I think I should die."

"I do not feel it at all." He spoke sternly,
and stood with folded arms and white, drawn
face, looking down at the beautiful sleeper.

His wife seemed awed and shocked. In all
her own heart wanderings, or, more properly,
heart ignorance, she had always conceived of
her husband as standing on the heights of Chris-
tian knowledge and privilege. He, a minister
of the gospel, must surely be safe and at peace.
She had felt much the same since her own great
enlightening, never imagining for a moment that
his faith might be very dim. Now, she seemed
not to know what to say, so she softly touched
the hand that rested on the table before her, and
was silent.

"It is all gloom," he said, breaking the silence.
"I can not realize anything but death. That is
real enough, and awful enough ; as for the rest,
it sometimes seems to me as if there were no such
place as heaven."

"That is a dreadful feeling!" his wife said,
catching her breath, and speaking quickly.

378 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"Dreadful ! I know all about it; I felt so that
time, you know, when I went forward in Mr.
Nelson's church. Poor Carroll ! if you feel that
way, I don't know how 3*011 can bear it. I do
not know what would become of me. O Carroll,
you must have Christ to help you, or you can
not endure it."

Mr. Trcsevant went alone to the death cham-
ber that night, and paced up and down the silent
room hi agony of spirit.

" U is ail blank ! all blank !" he groaned. "I
don't know where to turn. Laura has a support
that I know nothing about, and }'et I am a
Christian. I surely am a Christian. I can not
have been preaching the gospel for so many
years, and yet know nothing about it. O God,
have mercy on me ! My heart's idol is shat-
tered, and I have no prop to lean upon —
nothing but blackness."

The Regent Street Church bell tolled and
tolled on Thursday evening ; passers-by won-
dered if that bell was going to toll all night,
and the people sitting within the lecture-room
wondered if the one for whom it was tolling was
never going to appear. It was not an unusual
thin^r for Mr. Tresevant to be a few minutes
late ; but now it grew to be ten, fifteen, twenty
minutes after the hour. Dr. Douglass and Judge
Benson whispered together, and then both went

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 379

and whispered to Mr. Sayles ; then Mr. Saylca
leaned forward and questioned Mrs. Tresevant.
She knew nothing about her absent husband ; ho

had been away since dinner ; she had waited tea
for him, and finally had gone down without him ;
had gone out after tea to Mrs. Nelson's, expect-
ing to return in a few minutes ; but had been
detained until the bell tolled, and had come im-
mediately to church, expecting to meet her hus-
band there. Finally Dr. Douglass went forward
to the pastors seat. "Some unusual circum-
stance must have delayed their pastor," ho said,
"and it was thought best not to wait longer, but
to commence the meeting."

Nearly half an hour afterward the chapel door
swung quietly on its hinges, and Mr. Tresevant
came with swift steps down the aisle ; his face
was very pale, and there was a strange light in
his eyes. Dr. Douglass arose to resign his seat,
and was peremptorily motioned back, while Mr.
Tresevant took a seat in the front pew. The
wondering and embarrassed doctor resumed his
seat and his hymn-book, and Judge Benson cut
short the remarks he was making and sat down.

tf Sing c Just as I am,' " said the pastor, as Dr.
Douglass turned the leaves in bewilderment, and,
after they had sung it, Mr. Tresevant arose and
turned his pale face toward the waiting congre-
gation. "I have done so," lie said, speaking

380 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

with difficulty and in a trembling voice. "Dear
friends, I want to confess to you. I have been
a blind leader. I have gone astray. My heart
has been full of pride and worldliness and self-
ishness, professing to be wise in Christ. I have
not followed his example in any way. I have
done you a great wrong. I did not know where
I stood. I did not realize in the least what I
wras doing, until God arrested my footsteps.
He sent an angel into our household to help
me, but I made an idol of it and called it mine.
Often, I think, when I knelt to pray, I wor-
shiped at my bo}r's cradle instead of lifting my
thoughts higher. Then the Father in heaven
looked on me in pity and took my darling away.
For a time I felt as if earth and heaven were
both blotted out ; as if there were nothing any-
where but death ; and I craved that. But God
is merciful. He has not utterly cast me off.
He has come close to me and held out his hands.
I have been groping in the dark for years and
years, but his blessed love has reached after
me, and I feel to-night that though I am weak
and trembling, but a babe in Christ instead of
having years of Christian experience, yet I am
in Christ. I have not felt that to a certainty in
a long time, perhaps not in years ; but the pre-
ciousness of the Christian faith surrounds mo
to-night. 'Just as I am, without one plea.'

WISE AXD OTHERWISE. 381

Dear Christian friends, I believe God has for-
given me for all the wretched blundering work
that I have made during these years. Now I
want to ask your forgiveness. I feel that I
have injured you as a church. I have been a
stumbling-block in your way. I pray you for
the sake of Christ, who has forgiven so much,
to forgive 3'our pastor."

Long before he had ceased speaking, every
head was bowed, and tears and sobs seemed t(
come from every heart. ''Let us pray," sai6
Mr. Sayles, the moment Mr. Tresevant resumed
his seat, and none had ever heard Mr. Sayles
pray as he did then for pastor and people.

Now, all this happened three years ago. I
cannot tell you of the intervening time, but the
other evening there was a wedding in which you
will be interested — not a great many guests,
but several with whom you are acquainted. The
bride was in simple white muslin, with very few
decorations ; but her eyes flashed like diamonds
and her lips glowed like rubies, and her name
is, or was, before Mr. Tresevant said a h\v words
to her, Jenny xVdams. It is strange what power
these ministers possess ! Mr. Tresevant was
not three minutes in saying what he had to say,
and yet thereafter they called Jenny Adams, Mrs.
Forbes. Ah, you should have seen the trans-
formation in her husband ! Mrs. Nelson, look-

382 WISE AND OTHEKWISE.

ing upon him and sending her thoughts back
over the past, wished she might summon his
former acquaintances from Lewiston to behold
him now. The (act is, that Mr. Forbes, m his
new and well-fitting bridal suit, was undeniably
a handsome man — as unlike as possible to the
Jim Forbes who used to shamble through the
strangling street of Lewiston in his soiled shirt-
sleeves. A rising man was Mr. Forbes — in
the great factories he stood second in power to
Mr. Sayles himself; in the mission Sabbath-
school he was assistant superintendent ; in the
church Sabbath-school he was one of the suc-
cessful Bible-class teachers. In short, Lewiston
would never have recognized its old friend in
this strongly built, strong-faced, heavily beard-
ed, tastefully dressed bridegroom. Among the
guests at the wedding were Mr. and Mrs. Ed-
ward Stockwell and Mr. Merrill. The latter
had a gift to present to the bridegroom — a
dainty and elegant, and altogether perfect gold
watch and chain. Great was Mr. Forbes' aston-
ishment over this gift. Mr. Merrill had sought
him out 3'cars ago, and evinced an unaccounta-
ble interest in him — but that the interest should
climax in so costly a gift as this, filled him with
surprise. He was trying to express something
of this feeling, together with the gratitude in
his heart.

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 383

"I don know," he said, in his simple, earn-
est fashion, "I can't think how I came to have
so many friends. I've had a great many all my
life, it seems to me ; hut I think I find new ones
every day. I don't know how it is."

" Do you hope to have a great many surprises
when you get to heaven?"

Mr. Merrill asked the question which seemed
such an abrupt transition from the subject, and
Mr. Forbes' eyes brightened, as they always did
at the mention of that dear home that was so
real a thing to him.

"Surprises?" he said, inquiringly. "I don't
know that I quite take your idea — yes, I ex-
pect surprises of happiness, because you know
eye hath not seen nor ear heard — "

"But do you expect any one to come to you
and say, 'If it had not been for what you said
and did at such a time, I would never have been
here?'"

The brightness glowed in Mr. Forbes' eyes
now.

"I can't say that I expect it," he answered,
speaking eagerly. "But sometimes I hope for
it, and occasionally I try to fancy how I should
feel if I knew that I had been the means of lead-
ing one soul to Jesus."

" Do you know of no such instance?"

Mr. Forbes shook his head. "No," he said,

384 WISE ATvT) OTHERWISE.

humbly, "I can'l say that I do. I know of
some that I hope I helped a little — and my wife
thinks I led her to become a Christian ; but it
was Mrs. Saylcs and Mrs, Nelson more than it
was me. No, I'm not sure of a single one."

"Let me make yon sure, then. I know of a
certainty that words of yours led me to the light
and joy of the Christian religion — and I expect
to thank you for it through a blessed eternity."

The earnest, manly face was beautiful now —
the surprise, the joy, the unspeakable thankful-
ness glowed in every feature — and as he lis-
tened to the story of the Sunday-school lesson,
explained so long ago, there were tears in his
eyes as he said, —

"I remember it perfectly. Johnny Fellows,
the boy was — he has gone West, but I think
he's a Christian ; he writes to me — good letters:
— I had one yesterday. Mr. Merrill, I shall
never look at this watch without thinking what
a wonderful honor the Lord has given me. I
thank you for telling me — I feel helped."

Mr. Edward Stockwell — "Uncle Edward,"
rather, as we and Dell have loved to call him — ■
came over to where the two were standing.
The passing years had brought great worldly
honors to th;it good man. His story almost
seemed a later edition of that one of old, where-
in God gave to his servant Job such an increase

WISE AND OTHERWISE. 385

of prosperity. Very peculiar had been Mr.
Stockwell's reverses, mid equally peculiar was
bis rapid rise ; every scheme had prospered,
every experiment had proved a marked success,
and finally the firm which had carried under
with it a largo amount of his former wealth had
suddenly righted itself, and paid dollar for dol-
lar— so even among the Boston millions ho
ranked again a millionaire. His hair was just
a trifle gra}Tcr, and perhaps the sweet dignity in
his face had deepened — it is not every one tried
in the fire who cemes out such shining gold.

"This is not a proper time for business," ho
6aid, laying a kind hand on the bridegroom's
shoulder, "and I am sorry that it is imperativo
that I must leave for Boston to-night ; that be-
ing the case you must let me set straight that
little money matter between us. Mr. Forbes
remembered me in my time of need, and only
those who have passed through such times know
how thankful we are for friends then."

Mr. Merrill, to whom this last sentence was
addressed, smiled and bowed, and left them.

Mr. Forbes' face (lushed painfully. "I never
meant to have anything said about that," he said,
in an embarrassed tone. "It was such a very
trifle, if I had known as much about business as
I do now, I would not have presumed to send it.
I hope you won't notice it, Mr. Stockwell."
25

386 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"It was very kind and thoughtful," Mi.
Stockwell answered, in his frank, cordial tone*,
in which not a note of condescension was visible.
"I thank you for it now, as I did then — to say
nothing about it would not be fair nor risrht. I
want to tell you about it. There came to me an
opportunity to invest that money in a most sat-
isfactory manner, and almost immediately after
its arrival circumstances occurred that made it
unnecessary for me to make personal use of it
— so I determined to experiment with it — and
the result has exceeded my own expectations.
I cannot resist the belief that the Lord has pe-
culiarly blessed that money, and I take the
greatest pleasure in returning it to 3-011 to-night,
with what it has earned and a little gift of my
own, knowing, as I do, that 3^011 will consider
all money as belonging to 3'our Master."

In vain did Mr. Forbes study the crisp
stamped paper that was r>lao.o.d in his hands —
the tears that blinucd nis eyes prevented his
making out the figures. Not so Rob. Adams.
Rob. had arrived at that interesting and remark-
able age when boys arc everywhere and know
everything; not a word of Mr. Stochwcll had
escaped his sharp ears. Now ho managed to
get one glimpse with his sharp eyes of the
mngic figures — then he made a trumpet of his
hands aud whistled through them, as softly as

WISE ANT) OTHERWISE. 38?

the circumstances of the case would admit, mid
stood first on one foot and then on the other, by
way of exhibiting his glee; presently he made
his way around to his sisters side, and whis-
pered in her car, "What do you think of that,
Jenny? Isn't ho a brick? I tell you that is
what I call jolly — the tallest thing I ever
heard."

"Rob., what are you talking about?" tho
pretty little bride said, a dainty pink flush in
her fair cheek.

"Ah, ha! Wouldn't you like to know? You
haven't seen it yet — the choicest bit of writing
you ever laid eyes on — ten thousand dollars!
that's what it is in black and white, all written
out in dainty flourishes. I saw it — the pretti-
est sight a fellow ever saw, when his own name's
mixed np with it, as Jim's is. Jolly ! I wish I
had ten cents to lend to somebody."

"Dell," said Mr. Nelson softly, as he stood
for a moment beside his wne, "do you remem-
ber the first evening that that young man sham-
bled into our temperance meeting out there in
Lewiston?"

"I was thinking of that very thing. I can
see just how he looked. Did you ever sec a
greater change ? "

Mr. Tresevant's thoughts were turned in the
same direction — he came to Mr3. Nelson's side.

388 WISE AND OTHERWISE.

"There has been a great transformation, has
there not?" ho said, his eyes resting on the
bridegroom.

" Very great, " Dell said. "Docs it seem re-
markable to J\OU?"

"I do not know that it docs; the grace of 1
God seems so wonderful to mc that no transfor-
mation seems too great to hope for, to look for."

And Dell, looking at him, looking at his wife
-—thinking of old times and of new times — did
not wondei that he was " not surprised."

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