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BY DINAH MARIA MULOCK.
CHAPTER 1.-OUR EARLY HOME.
From Sharpe's Magazine. “Why does not pretty robin move? is he THE HISTORY OF A HOUSEHOLD.
“ My little Bernard,” said my mother, “he will not move again ; he is dead; we must bury
him." My father's house was indeed a home, a quiet, “What is that, mother? what is being dead ? well-regulated English home, where the several And what will you do to the little bird? Do make gradations of parents, children, and servants, were him fly!” properly distinguished ; and yet, the line of dif My mother took my hand in silence, and led me ference was not so harshly drawn as to give pain to a flower-bed, where I stood by her side and to any one. As well might the human frame ex- watched her bury the poor bird. When the last ist without a head, as a family without a ruler. bright feather disappeared under the brown soil, My father was in truth the supreme guide and I began to weep. arbiter in his own household. He was gentle, “You will hurt the robin, mamma, by putting hut he could be firm at times; and if now and it under the cold ground.” then his will was a little arbitrary, it was better than “ He does not feel it, Bernard," she answered; no authority at all. My mother was the sunshine “he is as if he were asleep, only that he will not of our little garden of love; though not gifted wake again.” with commanding talents, or with energy to enable “Not wake again, nor sing, nor fly? Is that her to steer through life alone, yet, united to a man being dead ?" like my father, she was all that is lovable in the “Yes, my darling," said my mother, sadly. character of woman as wife and mother. Without “ He will never feel tired or hungry again, or him as her guide and support, she might have been cold, as in that bitter frost not long ago. So do nothing ; with him she was everything.
not weep for the robin, Bernard, and some day I I look back with my mind's eye on that dear will tell you more. old place, were I grew from infancy to boyhood, I asked many questions, but my mother did not and from boyhood to youth. It was a large old answer them ; she judged rightly that it is vain, rambling house on the slope of a hill: not a bleak, almost wrong, to let young children hear of death. picturesque mountain, but a green undulation, high Their minds can only comprehend its fearfulness, enough to overlook several miles of our level coun- not its calm, and hope, and holiness. Therefore try, and smooth enough, with its soft grassy car- it was long after that day when I learned what pet, to tempt many a gay troop of children to roll death really was; but still I could not forget the down from the summit to the foot of the bank. poor bird, and came day after day to the flowerAt the back of our house rose this hill; in the bed, vainly expecting to see it lift up the brown spring time it was studded with lazy, happy-look- mould and fly away, and thinking how strange it ing cows, and all summer long it was vocal with must feel to lie thus with the flowers growing the melodies of birds that built their nests in safety above it. among the tall trees of a tiny grove half way up Except this one memory, my early childhood is the acclivity. Then, too, we had the music of a a blank, until one day when they told me that I pebbly stream, that ran through our orchard, and was going to have a sister, and my baby heart the distant and not unpleasant hum of my father's danced with joy at the thought. What a sister cotton-mill, which brought us in our daily bread, was, 1 hardly knew, but I saw they all looked and within whose mysterious and dangerous pre- happy, and when my father took me on his knee cincts our anxious mother never allowed us to and told me I must love my little sister, for that I venture alone. There was something awful and had one now, I clapped my hands with delight, strange in that old mill, with its ever-dinning and flew over the house shouting to every one, sound and its ever-moving wheels, like living“ Sister is come! oh, sister is come !" creatures, near whose devouring jaws we never Thus joyfully did I unconsciously hail my best, dared approach. My father, as he walked among my dearest companion, the sharer of all my cares, his machinery, seemed like some superior being, the brightener of all my pleasures, my gentle, whom these fearful creatures were forced to obey. affectionate, true-hearted sister Kate.
I was the eldest child—for a few years, the Years past on, and one after another, brothers and only one. It is a long effort of memory to look sisters were added to our household. After Kate, back sixty years, but I will strive to do so. In came the twins Margaret and Herbert; then a sturdy, early infancy, our life seems a kind of sleep, in frank, merry-hearted boy, Miles, and last of all the which appear a few vivid points, like portions of youngest darling, bright-haired, blue-eyed Dora. a dream. It is strange that my first recollection We had a happy childhood : our station in the of existence, at least the existence of thought, is world was high enough to enable us to have all one of death. I remember playing one sunny harmless pleasures, and studies such as the young morning in the garden, when, peering into rose- require ; and yet we were unchained by the forms bushes higher than myself, I found a robin lying to which a rich man's children are subjected. We stiff and cold. I wondered much the beautiful bird had no costly dresses to spoil; we were suffered did not fly away, as I had watched others do, but to run out to play in the green fields without a dolay still in my hand. I brought it to my mother. mestic's eye always upon us; the sun was free to
kiss our sister's fair cheeks if he liked, and the your rosy cheeks and your brown hair, but I" clear, shallow stream might invite us boys to a and Herbert glanced at his own shrunken and pleasant summer bath, without fear of drowning. meagre limbs, and the tears came into his eyes. Our learning consisted of what was useful and Margaret's smiling face became mournful; necessary to our station, but without idle accom “ Herbert dear, if you talk thus, I shall be very plishments : my father wisely thought that it was unhappy. Do you think I am any better or pretbetter in early youth not to force his boys to hard tier than you, because I am strong and you are study, and my mother loved better to see Kate and not, or that my cheeks are red and yours pale ?" Margaret using their active fingers in fabricating “Ah! but if I could only run and leap like garments than in playing the harp. Yet never Miles, there ! See how he is carrying little Dora was a sweeter voice or a clearer tone than our over the stepping-stones at the brook. Oh ! MarMargaret's when she enlivened the winter even- garet, I am very helpless.” ings with her music; and long before Kate grew "I love you twenty times better than I do those to womanhood, she possessed acquirements in great, strong, rough boys !" cried Margaret pas literature of a sound and sterling nature, above sionately. “Don't say another word, Herbert ; most of her sex.
I had rather have you just as you are. In a large family, many are the diversities of handsomer than Bernard with his ugly brown face, character that produce discord ; and varieties of and better than Miles, with his rude temper; and mood and temper will always bring passing clouds. you are my own twin brother, and I will love you Thus even in our little Eden of innocence there and take care of you all my life.” were storms now and then. Many a care did Margaret said these words with energy that wild, headstrong Miles give to our parents from almost amounted to impetuosity, embracing Herhis very babyhood, and beautiful Margaret was bert with strong affection. The thick lilac-bushes often wilful and vain. Then there was another did not reveal that this little conversation had been sore grief. For five years the twins had grown up overheard, and though the allusion to “great rough together, the same in beauty and health ; but there boys” was anything but palatable, yet I felt glad came a change. An accident befell Herbert, and to see that poor Herbert was consoled, and that the child rose up from his bed of sickness, a pale his quiet, pensive smile had returned. My grave and crippled being, the shadow of his former self. and gentle sister Kate consoled
my wounded His twin sister grew up tall and blooming, but vanity. except in poor Herbert's gentle face the resem “ Bernard,” she said, “you, in your health blance between them was gone. Not so the love and strength, can hardly feel tenderly enough for which is ever so strong between twins ; Herbert that poor boy. He has no pleasures like you ; and Margaret were all in all to each other, and it his only comfort is in Margaret's love. Let us was a touching sight to see the diminutive and be happy, that she does feel thus strongly for deformed boy cherished, tended and protected by him, even if it takes away somewhat of her love his beautiful sister, whose care he returned with for us." an intense love that amounted almost to worship. I assented to all Kate said, but still I often To him she was all-perfect, and she, on her part, wondered if that young and beautiful girl would would leave us all, in the midst of our plays, to continue to devote herself for life to her sick sit beside the frail, delicate boy, who could no brother. But there seemed to come no change in longer share them.
her affection, and Herbert passed from childhood We had our yearly festivals-our cowslip- to youth, with the shadow of death ever hanging gatherings, our blackberry huntings, our hay- over him, yet still kept away by untiring love. makings, all those delights so precious to country No two could be more opposite in character than children. Our five birthdays, too, were each a the twins, for Herbert, with the natural tendency little epoch in the years, to be signalized by sim- of a sensitive mind united to a frail body, loved ple presents, and evening merry-makings in the all intellectual pursuits, while Margaret, gay, garden, or the house, as the season permitted. buoyant, and energetic, preferred active employHerbert's and Margaret's birthday was the grand ment, and only loved books for his sake, that she era, for it was in the sunny time of May, and might amuse and converse with him on the studies there were double rejoicings to be made. The which were his delight. twins were exalted in our laburnum bower, set Thus we all grew up associated as suited our upon chairs decorated with flowers, and crowned individual tastes—the twins, Miles and Dora, with wreaths. I fancy I see them now-Mar- Kate and I. Christmas after Christmas we met garet in her girlish beauty, smiling under her around our father's table, for he would never break brilliant garland, and poor Herbert looking up to through the good old rule ; and after short school her with his pale sweet face.
absences, or passing visits, the flock were always “How beautiful you are to-day, Margaret!" gathered together on Christmas-day. It was a I heard him once say to her, when we had all happy festival, begun with devotion, and ended gone away, to pluck more flowers ; “ I cannot with fitting mirth ; we talked over the past year; believe what they tell me, that you and I were we pictured the coming one; year by year bringonce so much alike, they could hardly distinguish ing over our hearts and thoughts the change which one from the other. You are so pretty, with is cast by approaching maturity. Our childish
FIRST MARRIAGE IN THE
games became imperceptibly merged into thought- she said softly; “shall I move your chair nearer ful talk ; we no longer danced gleefully round the to the fire ?" Christmas pudding, but began-at least we elder It was a common question, such as any one ones—gravely to discuss our childish frolics, and might have asked ; but it brought with it to both call them follies. I have learned since, that there sister and brother such a tide of recollections-of is more foolishness in the pleasures of after life trifling but tender offices discharged for years, acthan in the innocent sports of youth.
cepted and fulfilled with equal love, which would Let me then bid adieu to childhood with my be no more bestowed or received—that neither heart full of those dear old times, those merry could maintain their calmness any longer. HerChristmas days.
bert looked up in his sister's face with an expression of deepest sorrow, while he held her hand without a word. Margaret knelt beside his chair and wept aloud.
“I will not leave you, Herbert ; not even for There is always something a little sad in the him. I will stay and take care of you." first wedding in a family. It shows that they are Hush, Margaret," whispered Herbert," you no longer one household—that their childhood and must go and be happy ; you have another to think its united pleasures are passed away forever, and of besides me ;” and he stooped over her, and each now may begin to think of a separate home, talked to her for a long time in a low tone, so and other and dearer ties. One link is broken in that no one else could hear. The consolation he the family chain ; even though in the midst of gave was known only to his own self-denying rejoicings and hope, still it is broken—and for- heart and to hers; but, after a time, Margaret
dried her tears, and her beautiful face looked The first who left us was Margaret. How love again happy. Never was the contrast between stole into her heart, so full as it had been of the the twins more striking than now, as Margaret sirongest sisterly devotion, is more than I can tell ; knelt beside her brother, with his arm thrown but it did. Her betrothed was welcome to us round her neck, and his countenance bending over all, even to Herbert, who had ever received from her, as he talked in low, earnest tones. They him that sympathy and attention, which, coming were so much alike—the same features, hair and from a man of talent and goodness like Mr. eyes ; but the one was all blooming health, the Worthington, was sure to gain regard. It was other, pale, thin, and wasted. Herbert's eighteen his best way to win Margaret, and perhaps it was years might have been double that number, there for this that she first loved him ; but she did love was such a look of premature age on his features. him, and so fondly that not even the pain of leav- And yet there was beauty in that poor, wan face, ing Herbert could prevent her from becoming his the majesty of intellect, the loveliness of a mild wife. Not one word of regret did that affection and tender nature and of a noble heart. ate brother breathe, to sully Margaret's happiness “Now, Margaret,” said Herbert cheerfully, in her young love. He told her that he never “ wheel my chair near the piano, and sing me a thought to keep her always by his side ; that he song like a dear good girl—the song which is was quite content and happy ; that Kate and Dora my favorite, and Edmund's too.” would take care of him, and that she should see A bright smile illumined the face of the behim grown a merry old bachelor when she re-trothed bride ; Herbert knew well how to make turned to England ; for Margaret's intended hus- her sadness pass away. And the whole of that band was a soldier, and they were going abroad. evening, Margaret wept no more, until the hour
I well remember the evening before my sister's of rest came. It was long past the invalid's time wedding. We were all at home, and alone ; for of retiring, but when his mother had spoken to that last night not even Margaret's lover was ad- him, Herbert had answered with a whisper, mitted in the family party. Kate and the bride " Not to-night, mother, it is the last night.” sat at work on the adornments for to-morrow; but But now, when the last good-night must be now and then a large tear fell from Margaret's said, we all felt the reality of the parting. My eyes on the white silk that lay on her knee. mother strained Margaret to her bosom, while my Dora read in silence at my mother's feet, and father blessed her in broken words. even Miles was quieter than usual. I glanced at My children,” said he, we may never meet Herbert as he sat in the shadow of the curtains, as a family on earth again, but we have been and in his easy-chair; he looked calm, and not sor- shall ever be a family love. Margaret, you rowful ; but every now and then his eye rested on have been a good daughter, and will be a good Margaret with an intense love, as if every idea wife ; take your father's blessing unto your huswas swallowed up in the idea of losing her. band's home. You love Edmund as your mother
We talked little, and then only in broken ob- loved me ; you are right to follow him whereso servations and on indifferent matters ; there was ever he may go, even leaving home and kindred. a constraint over us all. At last the bright sun- Go, my child, and may you live to bring up sons set faded into twilight, and the girls put away and daughters, and to see them around you as your their work. Margaret came beside Herbert. mother and I do this day. Yet, oh ! Margaret ;"
“ These autumn evenings are getting cold,” | and my father's voice faltered, while two large
tears stole down his aged cheeks, “ Margaret, (handsome and happy bridegroom. We all left you are the first who leaves us—do not forget us, the room, and Edmund too. What passed bewherever you may be.”
tween the twins I never knew ; but Margaret He kissed her solemnly, and we all did the came out of the room pale, calm, and tearless, same ; and then her mother took Margaret away. and in a few minutes the carriage had swept
It was a glorious autumn morning on Margaret's away, and the bride was gone from her home forwedding day. We were all assembled when she ever. came down stairs in her marriage dress ; the sun Kate and I watched the whirling wheels disnever shone upon a lovelier bride than Margaret appear, and then turned silently, and by a natural Orgreve. The same words that he had spoken on impulse, to where poor Herbert sat alone. His that birthday long ago, “ How beautiful you head was bowed upon his hands, and his whole look !" came to Herbert's lips, but he could not attitude indicated the deepest dejection. Kate utter them. Perhaps he thought on what she too laid her hand softly on his shoulder ; he started, had said on the same day. But he checked the and looked up. sigh, and received her tender greeting without “What do you want?” he said fretfully, one seeming pang.
they gone ?" None of us had time for much emotion, for ere Yes, dear Herbert, and so Bernard and I have we could believe it was really our sister's mar-come to you.” riage day, she returned from the church, a bride. “I wish you would go away. I had rather be A few hours more, and we had to say farewell. alone.” One after another, Margaret parted from her The tears stood in Kate's eyes. “Indeed, brothers and sisters ; she had a gift, a few words Herbert, I love you almost as well as she could. of remembrance for each. I believe we loved as Do not send me away.” well as most brothers and sisters do ; and all of Herbert could not withstand her sweetness. us, even stout-hearted Miles, when the time came, “ Forgive me, Kate, I will try to be content,” he were grieved to part with our gay, beautiful Mar- said gently. “ You are very good, Bernard ; you garet, the pride of the family. But she and her were always kind to me, though you are so strong, twin-brother had been so engrossed by each other, and I so helpless.” He took a hand of each as that it was with Herbert that she felt the full bit- we stood beside him, and thus was formed a silent terness of separation.
compact of affection, which was never broken “Let me say one word to my sister before she while Herbert lived. goes, Edmund,” said Herbert imploringly to the
From the Exaininer. And inly cried, “ O were I one of these!”
How many verses, verses not inept,
But stampt for lawful weight and sterling ore, HEREDITARY honors who confers ?
Are worth one struggle to exalt our kind ! God; God alone. Not Marlboro's heir enjoys Here let me back my coursers, and turn round. A Marlboro's glory. Ye may paste on walls, Hereditary honors ! few, indeed, Through city after city, rubric bills,
Are those they fall to. Norton! Dufferin! Large-lettered, but ere long they all peel off,
Rich was your grandsire in the mines of wit, And others take their places. 'Tis not thus Strong in the fields of eloquence, but poor Where genius stands ; no monarch here bestows, And feeble was he when compared with you. No monarch takes away; above his reach
O glorious England ! never shone the hour Are these dotations, yea, above his sight.
With half so many lights ; and most of these Despise I then the great ? no ; witness Heaven!
In female hands are holden. Gone is she None better knows or venerates them higher, Who shrouded Casa-Bianca,* she who cast Or lives among them more familiarly.
The iron mould of Ivan, yet whose song Am I a sycophant, and boaster too?
Was soft and varied as the nightingale's, A little of a boaster, I confess,
And heard above all others. Few are they No sycophant. Now let me teach my lore.
Who well weigh gems : instead of them we see Those are the great, who purify the hearts, Flat noses, cheek by jowl, not over-nice, Raise lofty aspirations from the breasts,
Nuzzle weak wash in one long shallow trough. And shower down wisdom on the heads of men.
Let me away from them! fresh air for me!
What glorious forms The wise, however humble, may impart.
Advance! No man so lofty, so august. I have seen princes, but among them all
In troops descend brightbelted Amazons None I would own my equal ; I have seen But where is Thesus in the field to-day. Laborious men, and patient, Virtue's sons,
Walter Savage LANDOR. Men beyond Want, yet not beyond the call Of strict Frugality from embered hearth,
1. Account of the Skerryvore Lighthouse,
Quarterly Review, 2. Maiden and Married Life of Mary Powell (21 Part,) Sharpe's Maguzine, 3. Visits to Monasteries in the Levant,
Quarterly Review, 4. New Imperial Constitution for Germany,
Examiner, 5. What does the “ State of Siege” mean? 6. The War in Hungary, 7. Anglo-Saxon Brotherhood—A Word to the Yankees, M. F. Tupper, 8. The Night Attack on Fort Erie,
N. Y. Commercial Advertiser, 9. History of a Household, Chap. I. and II.,
Sharpe's Magazine, Poetry.-A Christian's Lise, 57.—The Heroines of England, 95.
49 58 64 82 83 84
PROSPECTUS.- This work is conducted in the spirit of now hecomes every intelligent American to be informed Littell's Museum of Foreign Literature, (which was favor of the condition and changes of foreign countries. And ably received by the public for twenty years, but as it is this not only because of their nearer connection with ourtwice as large, and appears so often, we not only give selves, but because the nations seem to be hastening, spirit and fresbness to it by many things which were through a rapid process of change, to some new state of excluded by a month's delay, but while thus extending our things, which the merely political prophet cannot compute scope and gathering a greater and more attractive variety, or foresee. are able so to increase the solid and substantial part of Geographical Discoveries, the progress of Colonization, our literary, historical, and political harvest, as fully to (which is extending over the whole world,) and Voyages satisfy the wants of the American reader.
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