CHAPTER X.

LETTERS.

_From the Rev. Richard Laurence to a Friend._

"I RECEIVED your letter a week ago, my dear friend, and with it another containing a call from the vestry of Christ Church in P. You mention the probability of this call, and say very confidently—'I suppose we shall see you among us soon, before Lent commences.' What will you say when I tell you that I have declined the call to P., and accepted an invitation from the inhabitants of Brooksville to preach for them a year in the district school-house? Now, imagining you to have exhausted all your exclamations, I will tell you briefly my reasons for so doing.

"But passing over all other reasons, I come to my principal one, which you know we always put last. The vestrymen of Christ Church will easily find some one else who will suit them as well as I should, for such places do not go a-begging, but what will become of these poor souls here if I leave them? They cannot pay, at the outside, more than two or three hundred dollars salary. I have some doubt whether they will do even that, and no one who has not other resources could live on such a sum. By the almost unassisted efforts of one young girl, a Sunday School has been established, without books, without maps, almost without teachers, but still an efficient and flourishing school. By the same agency an increasing interest in the things of God has been awakened in the community, and the ground has been made ready for the seed. It may indeed be said of her, 'she hath done what she could.' The question now is, shall this ground be left for the occupation of the devil, or shall it be made as the garden of the Lord? Shall the seed already sown be left to die for want of care, or shall it be nurtured and watered?

"You will perhaps tell me I might do much more good in P. I doubt it. That is a common phrase in these circumstances; but I think those who use it overlook the fact, that all souls are of equal value in the sight of God, whether rich or poor, cultivated or ignorant, refined or vulgar; and it is just as necessary that these souls should be saved here as those in P. The Word of Gad may be as faithfully preached in a district school-house as in a Gothic church, and while there are many able and willing to enjoy the one, there are but few that can or will serve in the other. I am fully aware of the advantages I resign in giving myself up to this work: I have considered them all, and I am content with my choice. When you were thinking of going to China with Bishop B., you did not hesitate a moment from the thought of the inconveniences you were to suffer, though you would have resigned much more than I shall do in staying here. You counted all things but dross in comparison to Christ's work and service; and why should I not do the same?

"'With whom hast thou left those few sheep in the wilderness?' would be the question continually sounding in my ears if I should, for the sake of my own gain or pleasure, accept this call to P., and I could not answer with David, 'What have I done? Is there not a cause?'

"In short, I have made my election, and am satisfied with it, and God willing, I will devote my time and my talents to building up His Church in this place. I hope to meet you in New York next week, and to talk more fully upon this and other kindred matters."

_From Milly to Edah._

"I take the opportunity of Mr. Laurence's return, my dear Edah, to send you a package of books and other matters, which I hope may prove acceptable. We have found your friend a very pleasant guest, and the more so, because he could tell us all about you. And first and foremost, what is the reason of your teaching school, and why have you kept it a secret from us so long? Father thought the allowance Mr. Liston made would be amply sufficient for all your wants in such a place as Brooksville, and thinks you must have some other reason than want of funds. Aunty is sure that it grows out of some of your Quixotic notions about doing good, and is quite certain that you will ruin your health by so much labor, but Mr. Laurence assures us that you are as well as possible. For my part, I cannot understand it at all, but presume you have some very good reason. Don't forget to tell us all about it when you write.

"You do not know how much we were all interested in the account Mr. Laurence gave us of your little school, though indeed it seems to have grown into a large one. Who would have anticipated, when you began with teaching three or four children in the kitchen at home, that it would have been the commencement of a church, as it seems likely to prove? What an encouragement not to despise the day of small things! Father was very much pleased, and I imagine he put some funds into Mr. Laurence's hands for you, though I am not sure. I send my contribution in the shape of a large package of Scripture and other prints, cards, &c., for the instruction and entertainment of the infant department. How I should like to look in, and see you at work! I must tell you, by the by, that I have a class in Sunday School myself, and enjoy it very much. Father was rather unwilling at first, but I persuaded him to let me begin, and as I am most undeniably fat and rosy, he is content to let me go on.

"I have discovered a new way of making myself useful to him: his German clerk has left him suddenly, and he finds it difficult to supply his place at once, so I have taken up his pen, and daily indite most interesting documents relative to domestic cottons, prints, &c., &c., rather to the scandal of Aunt Maria, who considers such pursuits vain and frivolous, compared to the creation of worsted cats and dogs, and delicate crochet collars. I am very wrong to laugh at Aunt Maria, who is very kind to me, but I cannot help grudging the time she spends on such things.

"Father has become quite reconciled to my precise ideas, as Aunt Maria calls them, and not only gives me free choice to do as I please, about dressing and going out, but even admits that I am in the right. He finds it very pleasant to have me at home in the evening, ready to play for him, or talk to him, or read to him, as he happens to be in the humor. He is fond of music, and really an excellent judge. I take pains to practise and to learn all the new music to please him, and he says I improve every day. Is it not a happy thing for me that late hours and parties really do not agree with me, and that I grew thin and pale under them?

"I hope to hear further accounts of your enterprises and undertakings, and that you continue to succeed as well as at first. Pray write me all the particulars you can think of, and especially how you get on at home, where, from some things dropped by Mr. Laurence, I should think you must have rather troublesome times.

"As ever, my dear Edah, truly yours,

"MILLY."

When Mr. Laurence returned from New York, he brought with him, not only the prints and cards sent by Milly, but a good Sunday School library of about two hundred volumes, fifty small Prayer-Books, an equal number of Testaments, and a large, plainly bound, but well-printed Bible and Prayer-Book for the desk. The school-house began to be crowded both morning and afternoon, and a Wednesday evening lecture was also well attended.

Almost every one was pleased with Mr. Laurence's plain practical discourses, as well as with his winning manners; and it was a pleasing sight to see the children crowding round him, after the Sunday School was dismissed—each anxious for a word, a look, or a shake of the hand, and no one going away ungratified. Every one, from Mr. and Mrs. Stuart, who were decidedly the aristocrats of the little place, down to poor Joe Fisher, who was drunk five days out of seven—every one felt the influence of the young minister's kindly and polished manners, which were the same to all. His bow of recognition was as kind and as elegant to Mrs. Stuart's servant as to Mrs. Stuart herself, and not an old woman or little child in the village, but found him ready to enter with an unfeigned interest into all their troubles, spiritual, temporal, and domestic.

He even conciliated Mrs. Downing, who considered the Episcopal Church as identical with the Church of Rome, and held with Fanny Fern's Deacon that a man who cannot take the curl out of his hair has no business in the ministry. Mrs. Champlin liked him when she was in a mood to like anybody, and sometimes when she was not. Susan held out for some time, but was at last vanquished by his genuine interest in and sympathy for poor Eddy, who would put out his little wasted arms to him whenever he appeared, and had been seen to laugh and crow like other children at being held up to pat his gentle horse. As for the boys, they were enlisted to a man on the side of the new minister, and woe to the unlucky wight who ventured to assert that Mr. Laurence was any thing but perfection.

At home things went on very much as usual. Edah rose early, and thus gained an hour or two before breakfast for her own purposes. This time was usually consecrated to study, and she was surprised to see how much progress she made. The family breakfasted rather late on Mrs. Champlin's account, and Edah was usually obliged to hurry from the table directly to school, from whence, if the weather was bad, she did not return till five o'clock, taking her luncheon with her, and staying an hour after school to hear some extra classes by which she added something to her salary.

Meantime, Susan waited upon her mother, sewed, and took care of Eddy, who was now eight months old. Mrs. Champlin had happily taken to reading, which was a great relief to her daughters as well as to herself. Mr. Laurence took care to keep her well supplied with books of one sort and another, and as she generally took several naps in the course of a page, one volume lasted her a long time. Thus Susan was left to pursue her own reading and studies as she pleased.

After tea, Sam commonly read aloud, while the girls occupied themselves with their sewing or knitting. Sometimes Edah drew a little in the evening, but not often, as she found that it tried her eyes. A chapter in the Bible usually concluded the reading, and the family retired early. On the whole, Edah found herself decidedly more comfortable than when her father was at home. For one thing, Susan's temper was much less irritable than formerly, though she now and then had a fit of her old perversity, when she delighted in teasing all about her, particularly Edah, whose naturally warm and hasty temper was not so subdued by all her efforts as to be proof against these attacks, especially when they were directed through Pauline. She was often provoked to hasty retorts and angry remonstrances, for which she afterwards suffered severely, and at such times she could not help wishing that she had accepted Milly's invitation, and left the family to their fate. These untoward events did not, however, occur very often, and they became more and more infrequent.

Pauline was to Edah a source of almost unmixed pleasure. There was no denying her improvement both of mind and body since she had been under her sister's care. She had formerly been indulged by her father in eating every thing to which she took a fancy, whether hurtful or not; thus she was in the habit of drinking strong tea and coffee twice and sometimes three times a day, and of eating an unlimited amount of spices, pickles, and sweet things. Her mother well knew that these things injured her, but she had not sufficient fortitude to cross her inclinations, even if Mr. Champlin would have permitted her to do so. It was the same with going out and going to bed—Pauline did as she pleased, except when her father now and then took a fit to govern her, which he did always harshly, and almost always unjustly, and thus the poor child's life was passed in a condition of continual contradiction and discomfort.

Of course the habits formed by such a state of things were not to be overcome in a day. Pauline was often fretful, sometimes selfish and sometimes shy; but her affection for Edah was unbounded, and her own good sense showed her that she was much more comfortable when she was guided by her sister than when she was left to her own devices. By degrees Edah coaxed her to leave off the tea and coffee, substituting warm milk and water, well sweetened, and served in a beautiful china mug procured expressly for her, and consecrated to her sole use. Proper precautions enabled her to take out of door exercise without getting cold: regular employment and suitable hours of repose did the rest, and Pauline was in a fair way of becoming as well and hardy as other children. Reading opened to her a source of inexhaustible delight. Her active mind exercised itself upon all it received, and her sisters were often amused and sometimes puzzled by the sagacity of her questions—questions which it was impossible to answer satisfactorily to the mind of a child, or indeed to answer at all.

"I don't know, my dear," or "You must wait till you are older," were answers which she often received, and which always annoyed her excessively.

"I wish I knew every thing under the sun," she exclaimed one day, rather petulantly, after receiving one of these unsatisfactory answers to some grave metaphysical query—"I wish I knew every thing there is to know."

"Then you would have nothing to learn," said Susan, "and you would take no more pleasure in reading. What would you do then?"

"I would write books," returned the little lady, without a moment's hesitation, "and explain things to other people, and I would never tell anybody that they were too young to understand."

Sam had improved almost as much as Pauline in the same time. He was now a tall, manly boy, looking upon himself as the head and protector of the family, and consequently despising all childish things. Mr. Stuart had taken him into his store, where he received a tolerable salary, and soon made himself a favorite, not only with his employer, but with all who dealt with him. He took a certain pride in dressing and behaving like a gentleman, and Susan never complained now of his teasing her, though it must be allowed that she sometimes put his good temper and forbearance to pretty severe trials. He was very much attached to Mr. Laurence, and a great favorite with that gentleman, who exercised great influence over all the boys in the village.

Bob Raymond was also growing up tall and manly, and he and Jack Downing, who still lived at Mr. Bell's, constituted themselves a sort of body-guard for Edah. They did her errands, made her fires, carried her to and from school on stormy days, and were never weary of devising ways and means to give her pleasure.

Mr. Downing could not avoid expressing his wonder that Mr. Bell had so little trouble with Jack, at the same time that he governed him so little. He did not believe the boy had ever had a whipping since he left home.

Eddy alone of all the little family did not seem to partake of the general improvement. He did not thrive at all, with all Susan's care and nursing, but continued the same puny, sickly little creature, seldom laughing and playing like other children, not often crying, but lying still and silent in the arms of whoever would hold him, with his large gray eyes wide open, apparently musing on his unhappy condition. He was afraid of almost all strangers, and cried if he were left alone, but otherwise he was very good, and very little trouble, though a constant source of anxiety. Of late, he had begun to be troubled with a cough, and some difficulty of respiration. The doctor did not think it worth while to disturb him with medicine; but upon being pressed for his opinion, said frankly that nothing would do him any good. He might linger for a few months longer, or even a year or two, but he would never be well, and his death might take place at any time.

The evening of the day on which he gave his opinion, Edah and Susan were sitting together by fire-light—Edah knitting and looking at the fire, and Susan holding her poor little pet who was asleep in her arms, both sisters seemingly absorbed in their own meditations. Suddenly Susan said—

"Edah, don't you think Eddy ought to be baptized?"

"I was just thinking of that very thing," returned Edah, rousing herself from her reverie. "I think so certainly, and I have always been anxious to have it done, but I did not know how you would feel."

"I suppose I should have laughed at any one who had proposed such a thing six months ago," said Susan, musingly; "but I feel very differently now. I should like to have the dear little fellow—" She paused, and then went on abruptly: "I suppose you don't see any change in me, do you, Edah?"

"Yes, I do," replied Edah; "you are hardly like the same person that you were when I came here. I think you are very much improved."

"But you think there is room for improvement still?"

"There is room for improvement in everybody," said Edah, smiling. "I suppose you don't pretend to be an exception to the general rule."

"But when I tease you about your church, and about Mr. Laurence, and Pauline, don't you wish I was in the Red Sea?"

"No," said Edah. "I wish you would not do it, certainly, because it makes me uncomfortable, and very often makes me do wrong, and I don't think you are any happier for it yourself. But, Susan, you are not half as fond of teasing people as you used to be. Don't you remember how you and Sam used to quarrel when I first came here?"

Susan smiled.

"Sam is growing a fine fellow, isn't he? I only hope he will not be led into bad company, or any thing of that sort."

"I do not think there is much danger," replied Susan; "he has seen enough of that to last him all his life. But about the baby—what do you suppose mother will say?"

"I hardly think she will object," said Edah; "and if she does, Mr. Laurence has so much influence with her that he will soon bring her over. I think we might have Polly baptized at the same time. Oh, Sue, if you would only join them!"

Susan shook her head.

"Not now. I may perhaps come to it in time, but not at present. My head is too full of other things; and besides, I am not prepared. I should have to be very different from what I am now."

"How different?" asked her sister.

"I don't know that I can tell you—different entirely. I must learn to put more constraint upon myself. I must be better, in short. But, as I said, I cannot think enough about it just now to make up my mind. When will you speak to Mr. Laurence about Eddy?" she added, rather hastily, as if to change the subject.

"To-morrow," answered Edah. "He told me he was coming here, and I will ask him to mention it to mother."

"Don't say any thing to him about me," said Susan, quickly. "Now promise, Edah, that you won't."

Edah could not avoid giving the promise, though she did it with regret, for she was anxious that Mr. Laurence should converse with Susan. She could only hope that he would have sufficient penetration to perceive the state of her mind, and himself introduce the subject of personal religion.

Mr. Laurence called the next day, and being informed of the affair, undertook to persuade Mrs. Champlin to consent, in which he succeeded with but little trouble, for, as Edah had said, his influence with her was almost unbounded. That day week was the one fixed upon for the service, as Edah wished for some little time to instruct Pauline, and prepare her mind to appreciate its solemnity and importance. In this she succeeded beyond her hopes. Polly was much interested and very serious: she asked a great many questions, both of Mr. Laurence and her sister. Several times Edah found her at prayer by herself, and she could not help hoping that the child of her love was indeed meetly prepared, by the Holy Spirit's gracious influences, to become in Holy Baptism, "a member of Christ, the child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven."