"Anne," said he, "what did you hear me say to Mrs. Lane? I saw in your face that you had been shocked and startled." I told him what I had heard; adding, "How could it be, dear grandfather, that so much should be owing to Mrs. Lane? I had no idea I stopped with twitching lips. An attempt to utter another syllable would have resulted in a burst of tears, and I was resolved not to give way to that weakness without a struggle to retain my self-command. "Little Nancy, I did not know that the money was owing until yesterday. When I did know it, I got your mother to let me pay itfor her." existence, they were greatly liked and respect- | summons having happened previously. He kissed. Their youngest daughter was a school-ed me and placed me in a chair, and then sat fellow of mine, and I sometimes took tea at down opposite to me. her father's house, and spent a quiet evening there. Also, I had made the acquaintance of Mr. Arkwright, the curate of Mrs. Abram's favorite clergyman, whose direful ministrations I have spoken of; and of Mrs. Arkwright and the little Arkwrights--and the name of these latter is Legion. I never met Mr. Arkwright with--I thought—” out being possessed by a yearning pity for him. The phrase sounds absurd, in our relative positions; nevertheless, it is strictly true. My more mature judgment leads me to doubt whether the case were one calling for all the compassion I lavished on it. But as a very young girl—little more than a child when I first knew him I was unfeignedly sorry for the Reverend Edwin Arkwright in my heart. He was so very poor, and he had so many young children, and his wife, though doubtless the partner of his cares, appeared to me so little calculated to be the soother of his sorrows. He was known by all Horsingham to be in debt; and yet no one could blame him for extravagance. I once said to Mrs. Lane (I scarcely know how my speech was brought about, for my communications with her were rarely impulsive or confidential), “How dreadful it must be to be in debt! To feel that you have had people's goods, and have not paid for them!" And Mrs. Lane looked at me very strangely, and said, Yes; she supposed it must be dreadful; and hoped I should always continue to think in the same way. A day or two afterward I was passing Mrs. Lane's sitting-room, the door of which was ajar, and I was surprised and startled to hear grandfather's voice within. "We will settle the whole account now, if you please, Mrs. Lane," he said. "Three-quarters' schooling are due, are they not?" Before I could gather presence of mind to move away, the door of the sitting-room was fully opened, and grandfather and Mrs. Lane came out into the hall. "Anne, how pale you are!" exclaimed my governess. She looked quite alarmed, and made a movement forward to take hold of me. Grandfather gave me a searching glance, and said, "May Anne come home with me to Mortlands now, Mrs. Lane? I know that it is out of the regular course of things; but it will only anticipate the half holiday by one day, and I shall feel obliged to you if you will permit it." Mrs. Lane at once assented. I think she fancied that my grandfather's medical eye detected some incipient illness in me. But there was none; I had merely been startled and seized upon by a vague feeling of uneasiness, which had immediately translated itself in my countenance. Grandfather took me home to his house; and as soon as we arrived at Mortlands he bade me follow him into his study. I obeyed with a beating heart. I could recall no such | There was an almost imperceptible pause before the two last syllables, but my ear detected, my mind marked it. However, I did not press grandfather with any further questions at that time. He told me that all was well at WaterEardley, and reassured me on the whole. 66 By-the-way, little Nancy," he said, just before dismissing me from the study, "when you go home you will miss the hunters. That is to say, you might miss them if you chanced to go near the stable; or the servants might speak to you of them. In any case, do not say any thing to your father about them. It is a sore subject." "What has happened to the hunters ?" I asked, wonderingly. "Are they dead ?" "No; they are sold." CHAPTER VII. FROM that time forth began a new era for me. Very shortly after the incident I have spoken of in the last chapter I was removed from Mrs. Lane's and returned to Water-Eardley. I was then between eighteen and nineteen. I am inclined to believe that I was more childish in some respects, and much less so in others, than most girls of my age. The sort of foretaste of the world-the preliminary experience of its buffets and struggles, its victories and defeats, which is supplied to a child by the competition of brothers and sisters, I had never had. Even my school life had not altogether stood in the stead of it. But, on the other hand, I had escaped the most imminent danger that usually threatens an only child : I had never been "spoiled." But for this blessing I have to thank my grandfather's firmness and wisdom. I had been accustomed to appeal to him and to lean on him with absolute trust throughout my young life; and he now stood by me with counsel and help when I had to face a new aspect of things, and to learn some lessons which only a practical contact with the difficulties of existence can teach. My father was sorely pressed for money. I we had been accustomed to enjoy in our home was absent from it. The empty stalls in the stable, and the dismissal of one of the grooms, alone reminded us that we had narrowly escaped a far greater misfortune. My old friend Dodd, for whom I had always retained a kindly feeling, left us about a year after my return home. He married, and set up in a little roadside inn about seven miles from Horsingham, which inn, from its situation in close proximity to the main highway, did a thriving business In with carters and carriers, at all seasons of the year, and with stray travelers during the racetime. had known that it must be so, when I heard "Then, mother dear," said I, attempting to apply what little lore of life I had gleaned from story-books to the present case, "I suppose we are ruined ?" Dodd was replaced at Water-Eardley by a smart, sly, undersized creature, who had been for some time employed about Lord B's training stable. I remember father mentioning this fact as being a great recommendation when the man was first engaged, and grandfather making him very angry by replying, "Mercy on us! The fellow comes armed with a regular diploma from the school of perdition, does he?" But grandfather seldom permitted himself such utterances as this. He had the talent of holding his tongue. (How rare and how precious a power!) He had a sincere desire to make peace. He knew that nothing is more likely to check the struggling growth of amendment than the cold breath of distrust. He encouraged my mother-he was cordial and pleasant as ever with my father. It seemed as if all were still as it had been. But it was only seem It appeared, however, that we were by no means ruined. Mother even smiled at my solemn face as I said the word; but her smile was like a pale sunbeam struggling through rain clouds. No; we were not ruined. Father might even have avoided the sale of his hunters by raising money in another way; but he had resolved, mother said, to make a sacrifice which should fall on him personally, and on no one else. And was not that noble and generous? Mo-ing. ther bade me note what liberal atonement he had made. And, after all, father had not been so much to blame; he had been led on and on by a run of good luck. And he had been persuaded and tempted by others: wicked men who had neither pity nor principle. But perhaps this taste of misfortune was a blessing in disguise it would show father, before it was too late, what gulfs of ruin lay hidden beneath that smiling surface of good-fellowship. He had promised, he had given his word to bet no more. He was so good, so affectionate, so frank in acknowledging his error. I watched mother's face thoughtfully while she spoke. When she had finished, finding that her countenance revealed something not altogether in harmony with her words, I said, "Then why should you be so sorry and so anxious, mother darling? If father has given his word, that is enough. You need not be afraid any more; need you, mother?" Among other changes which I observed in my father, now that I lived constantly at home, was a listless indifference to the pursuits he had formerly been interested in; his farm and his stock were merely a care and a trouble. He sold off all the beasts he had of a famous breed of cattle (more than one silver prize-cup won from county competitions glittered on the sideboard in our dining-room), and replaced them with common animals. I could not for the life of me have told why, but even to my inexperienced eyes the whole aspect of the farm was changed. The Germans have a homely proverb of rural life: "The master's footstep manures the field best." On our fields the master's footstep rarely fell. By degrees father entirely relinquished one farm, consisting of arable land, which he had rented, and retained only the grazing meadows. Father always had some excellent reason to give for every change that he made. He really was an enlightened farmer, and understood his business very thoroughly. This made it almost impossible for any one to remonstrate with him as to what he was doing, and what he was leaving undone. "You will allow, I suppose," father would say, sharply, "that I know something However, it seemed as if her apprehensions about land, and something about stock!" This had in truth been excessive, for the storm being indisputable, he would add, "And I precleared away, and left, as far as I could tell, no sume you will give me credit for using my permanent disaster behind it. No comfort that knowledge to my own interest. A man will "No, my dearest. You are right. I ought to have faith in my own darling; and I have, Anne. You must not fancy that I doubt father." But her speech was closed by a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her heart. care for that, at all events, whatever else he were flat and savorless; that I was haunted cares for." Interest! His own interest? How strange it is that men should go on repeating the parrot-like formula, whose truth is contradicted by every day's experience! There is no petty passion in the human breast but will override "interest," in the sense generally attached to that word. Occurrence. during the writing out of an exercise by the echoes of a tuneful waltz; that my thoughts were rather frequently busied with devising imaginary costumes for myself, and fancying how I should look in a lemon-colored crape dress, such as the eldest Miss Bunny had worn, and other similar speculations. In a word, I discovered in myself a hitherto unsuspected taste for excitement, not to mention a considerable development of the organ which I believe phrenologists have designated love of approbation. He Father was constantly saying that farming was such a slow way of making money; that what you gained one year you lost the next; and making other grumbling speeches, which -I confess it-irritated me terribly. Once my mother exclaimed, very innocently, "But, George dear, what need is there for us to 'make money' at all? Have we not enough? Heaven knows I don't long for riches ?" And father was out of humor the whole day afterward. Alas! that was coming to be a frequent Father never had sweetness of temper comparable to mother's. He was what people call "hasty." But then whosoever made that remark almost invariably added, "It was over in a minute." For my part, when I hear such a characteristic mentioned in the way of praise, I am inclined to ask, "With whom is it over in a minute? With the hasty man himself, or the object of his sudden wrath ?" Wounds given in haste will often take long to heal. But, at least, in former times when father was angry, those around him usually comprehended wherefore he was so. He had been frank-natured too, and disdainful of equivoca-ject. When I had recourse to grandfather, he tion; but he was changing, changing, changing, day by day. I am dwelling chiefly on the internal phases through which our home life passed, so to speak. These were mostly hidden from all who were not dwellers at Water-Eardley. The superficial part of our existence was, I imagine, much the same as ever in the eyes of strangers. My parents, perhaps, did not go from home as much as they had been used to do when I was a child. But my father had a large circle of relatives in the neighborhood, and we visited a good deal; much more, indeed, than was agreeable to me. For, to say truth, I did not find all these tribes of second and third cousins by any means congenial to me. I had, to say the least, a distaste for their society, and I have reason to believe that the distaste was heartily reciprocated. The few acquaintances I had made during my school-days in Horsingham I retained. Lady Bunny called upon my mother, and my mother returned her visit; and there ensued dinners at Sir Peter's house and at my father's; and a dance at the former place, on which occasion both Barbara Bunny, my late school-fellow, and I were introduced to the fashionable world of Horsingham. But this was a rare dissipation, and did not lead to much further gayety. It had the effect, however, of distracting my mind from other things for some time afterward. I found, to my surprise, that my studies VOL. XLI.-No. 244.-38 Since I had left school, I had, by grandfather's advice, and partly in consequence of a suggestion that he had made to my parents, continued certain of my studies under the auspices of the Reverend Edwin Arkwright. was an excellent German scholar, and he gave me lessons in that language. Also he read history with me, and even imparted to me a slight smattering of Latin. Father had objected at first rather strongly to this latter study. He did not want his girl to be a blue-stocking. He hated learned women; they notoriously made bad wives and mothers. Home was a woman's sphere, and domestic duties were her proper employment. I remember in my inexperience earnestly endeavoring to discover father's reasons for thinking that the declension of hic, hæc, hoc, would undermine my principles, and harden my manners, and utterly failing to get any enlightenment as to his views on the sub merely said that every one had some prejudices, and that it could not be expected that my father should be totally exempt from them; but that he (grandfather) had persuaded father to let me learn from Mr. Arkwright, assuring him that there was no apparent danger of my becoming a portent of erudition. And indeed the discerning reader, who shall peruse these pages to the end, will scarcely require me to assert that whatever evils have happened to me in the course of my life have most undoubtedly been due in no wise to excess of learning: Heaven save the mark! "But then, grandfather," said I, earnestly, "how is it? Does father want me not to learn well from Mr. Arkwright? Does he think it won't be a bad thing if I only pretend to learn German and Latin, but that it will hurt me if I really do study industriously?" Whereto grandfather only replied, dryly, that I had better not make such speeches as that to my father, as he would probably consider them unfeminine. And then he added, more seriously, "Do not question your parent's conduct in a caviling spirit, little Nancy. No Latin in the world was ever worth a loving heart and a docile temper." I went once a week to Mr. Arkwright's house to take my lesson; and I usually spent the evening of those days at Mortlands, especially during the winter and autumn when the daylight set early. To me my lesson-days were times of almost unmixed enjoyment. At least | ple of Mrs. Lane's over-due school bill might, they had been so up to the time of the dance at Sir Peter Bunny's. After that occasion, I found that the concentration of my mind upon my books was much more difficult than it had been: still I continued to go to the curate's house on the appointed days. I knew beyond the possibility of doubt that the sum paid for my lessons was an important object to the Arkwrights. It never occurred to me to question my parent's power of affording it. it may be thought, have awakened some misgivings; but I believed that the causes which had led to that circumstance had ceased forever; and that the sun was not surer to rise each morning than was the price of my lessons to be duly and regularly paid to Mr. Arkwright. I may here record that it was so paid. But not until many years later did I learn from mother's confession, that the person who paid it was my The exam- grandfather. L FEMALE SUFFRAGE. A LETTER TO THE CHRISTIAN WOMEN OF AMERICA. Part EE. womanly action, what more, pray, can we reasonably ask of them? Where lies this dire necessity of thrusting upon women the burdens of the suffrage? And why should the entire nation be thrown into the perilous convulsions of a revolution more truly formidable than any yet attempted on earth? Bear in mind that this is a revolution which, if successful in all its aims, can scarcely fail to sunder the family roof ET us now look for a moment at the actu- redress existing grievances, where women are al condition of women in America, in con- concerned, as we know them to be, and if they nection with the predicted elevation. We are are also ready, as we know them to be, to fortold they are to be elevated by the suffrage-ward all needful future development of true and that by hanging on to the election tickets in the hands of their wives, the men are to be elevated with them. What, therefore, is the ground women now occupy, and from whence they are to soar upward on the paper wings of the ballot? The principal facts connected with that position are self-evident; there is nothing vague or uncertain here; we have but to look about us and the question is answered. We already know, for instance, from daily observa-tree, and to uproot the family hearth-stone. tion and actual experience, that, as a general It is the avowed determination of many of its rule, the kindness and consideration of Ameri- champions that it shall do so; while with ancan men have been great, both in public and other class of its leaders, to weaken and unin private life. We know that in American dermine the authority of the Christian faith in society women have been respected, they have the household is an object if not frankly avowed been favored, they have been protected, they yet scarcely concealed. The great majority of have been beloved. There has been a readiness the women enlisted in this movement-many to listen to their requests, to redress grievances, of them, it is needless to say, very worthy to make changes whenever these have become persons as individuals-are little aware of all necessary or advisable. Such, until very re- the perils into which some of their most zealcently, has been the general current of public ous male allies would lead them. Degradafeeling, the general tendency of public action, tion for the sex, and not true and lasting elein America. If there appear to-day occasional vation, appear to most of us likely to be the end symptoms of a change in the tone of men on to which this movement must necessarily tend, this point, it is to be attributed to the agitation unless it be checked by the latent good sense, of the very question we are now discussing. the true wisdom, and the religious principle of Whenever women make ill-judged, unnatural, | women themselves, aroused, at length, to proextravagant demands, they must prepare to lose test, to resist. If we are called upon for proof ground. Yes, even where the particular points of the assertion, that American men are already in dispute are conceded to their reiterated im- prepared to redress actual grievances, we find portunity, they must still eventually lower their that proof in their course at the present mogeneral standing and consideration by every ment. Observe the patience with which our false step. There are occasions where victory legislative bodies are now considering the peis more really perilous than a timely defeat; titions of a clamorous minority demanding the a temporary triumph may lead to ground which redress of a fictitious grievance-a minority dethe victors can not permanently hold to their manding a political position which the majorown true and lasting advantage. On the oth-ity of their sex still utterly reject—a position er hand, every just and judicious demand wo-repugnant to the habits, the feelings, the tastes, men may now make with the certainty of suc- and the principles of that majority. If men cessful results. This is, indeed, the great fact are willing to give their attention to these querwhich especially contributes to render the birth-ulous demands of a small minority of our sex, right of American women a favorable one. If how much more surely may we rely on their the men of the country are already disposed to sympathy, and their efficient support, when some measure in which the interests of the whole sex are clearly involved shall be brought before them by all their wives and mothers? population of some millions. The number of women desiring a full college education will always, for many different reasons, be much smaller than the number of male students. But there is no good reason why such colleges, when found desirable, should not enter into our future American civilization. Individual American women may yet, by these means, make high progress in science, and render good service to the country and the race. Every branch of study which may be carried on thoroughly and successfully, without impairing womanly modesty of mind and manner, should be so far opened to the sex as to allow those individuals to whom Providence has given the ability for deep research to carry them to the farthest point needed. But as regards those studies which are intended to open the way to professions essentially bold and masculine in character, we do not see how it is within the bounds of possibility for young women to move onward in that direction without losing some of their most precious womanly prerogatives-without, in short, unsexing themselves. And again: they are not only already prepared to redress grievances, but also to forward all needed development of true womanly action. Take, in proof of this assertion, the subject of education. This is, beyond all doubt, the vital question of the age, embracing within its limits all others. Education is of far more importance than the suffrage, which is eventually subject to it, controlled by it. This is, indeed, a question altogether too grave, too comprehensive, and too complicated in some of its bearings to be more than briefly alluded to here. But let us consider education for a moment as the mere acquirement of intellectual knowledge. This is but one of its phases, and that one not the most important; but such is the popular, though very inadequate, idea of the subject in America. Observe how much has already been done in this sense for the instruction of the women of our country. In the common district schools, and even in the high schools of the larger towns, the same facilities The really critical point with regard to the are generally offered to both sexes; in the pub-present position of women in America is the lic schools brother and sister have, as a rule, the same books and the same teachers. And we may go much farther and say that every woman in the country may already-if she is determined to do so-obtain very much the same intellectual instruction which her own brother receives. If that education is a highly advanced one she will, no doubt, have some especial difficulties to contend against; but those difficulties are not insurmountable. The doors of most colleges and universities are closed, it is true, against women, and we can not doubt that this course is taken for sound reasons, pointed out by good sense and true sagacity. It is impossible not to believe that between the ages of fifteen and five-and-twenty young men and young women will carry on their intellectual training far more thoroughly and successfully apart than thrown into the same classes. At that age of vivid impressions and awakening passions, the two sexes are sufficiently thrown together in family life and in general society for all purposes of mutual influence and improvement. Let them chat, walk, sing, dance together, at that period of their lives; but if you wish to make them good scholars, let them study apart. Let their loves and jealousies be carried on elsewhere than in the college halls. But already female colleges, exclusively adapted to young women, are talked of-nay, here and there one or two such colleges now exist. There is nothing in which American men more delight, nothing more congenial to their usual modes of thought and action, than to advance the intellectual instruction of the whole nation, daughters as well as sons. We may rest assured that they will not fail to grant all needful development in this direction. One female college, of the very highest intellectual standard, would probably be found sufficient for a question of work and wages. Here the pocket of man is touched. And the pocket is the most sensitive point with many men, not only in America, but all the world over. There can be no doubt whatever that women are now driven away from certain occupations, to which they are well adapted, by the selfishness of some men. And in many departments where they are day-laborers for commercial firms they are inadequately paid, and compelled to provide food, lodging, fuel, and light out of scanty wages. Yes, we have here one of the few real grievances of which American women have a just right to complain. But even here—even where the pocket is directly touched, we still believe that women may obtain full justice in the end, by pursuing the right course. Only let the reality of the grievance be clearly proved, and redress will follow, ere long. Providence has the power of bringing good out of evil; and therefore we believe that the movement now going on will here, at least, show some lasting results for good. The "Song of the Shirt" shall, we trust, ere long become an obsolete lay in our country. Our women, twenty years hence, shall be better paid in some of their old fields of labor; and new openings, appropriate to their abilities, mental and physical, shall also be made for them. And here they are much more likely to succeed without the suffrage than with it. It is not by general law-making that they can better themselves in these particulars. Individual fitness for this or that branch of work is what is required for success. And if, by thorough preparation, women can discharge this or that task, not essentially masculine in its requirements, as well as men, they may rest assured that in the end their wages will be the same as those of their fathers and brothers in the same field of work. |