Anna Bartlett Warner

“ Have you got no bread, Sophia?"
"Nothing but what you see. I hoped you would bring home some money, Mr. Mathieson. I have neither milk nor bread; it's a mercy there's sugar. I don't know what you expect a lodger to live on."
"Live on his board,—that'll give you enough. But you want something to begin with. I'd go out and get one or two things—but I'm so confoundedly tired, I can't."
Mrs. Mathieson, without a word, put on a shawl and went to the closet for her bonnet.
"I'll go, mother! Let me go, please. I want to go," exclaimed Nettie, eagerly. "I can get it. What shall I get, father?" ”

“ April days were growing soft and green; trees budding and grass freshening up, and birds all alive in the branches; and above all, the air and the light, the wonderful soft breath of spring, and sunshine of spring, made people forget that winter had ever been harsh or severe.
Nettie went out and took little walks in the sun which seemed to do her good; and she begged so hard to be allowed to go to her garret again, that her father took pity on her, sent Mr. Lumber away, and gave her her old nice little room on the same floor with the others. ”

“ Folke, her Sunday-school teacher, had brought her, and which was never out of Nettie's hand.
Slowly she said the words, with her usual sober, placid face; and Mrs. Mathieson was mute.
For some weeks, as the spring breathed warmer and warmer, Nettie revived; so much that her mother at times felt encouraged about her. Mr. Mathieson was never deceived. Whether his former neglect of his child had given him particular keenness of vision in all that concerned her now, or for whatever reason, he saw well enough, and saw constantly, that Nettie was going to leave him. ”

“ He knew what her intent eyes meant, and he sat down by her bed-side and laid his face in his hands. "I am a sinful man, Nettie!" he said.
"Father, 'this is a faithful saying, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners.'"
"I don't deserve He should save me, Nettie."
"Well, father, ask Him to save you, because you don't deserve it."
"What sort of a prayer would that be?"
"The right one, father; for Jesus does deserve it, and for His sake is the only way. If you deserved it, you wouldn't want Jesus; but now 'He is our peace.' Oh, father, listen, listen to what the Bible says." ”

“ A gentle word, a look of love, a little bit of kindness, will smooth down a roughened temper or a wry face, and soften a hard piece of work, and make all go easily. And so of reproving sinners. The Psalmist says, 'Let the righteous smite me; it shall be a kindness: and let him reprove me; it shall be an excellent oil, which shall not break my head.' But, you see, the peacemaker must be righteous himself, or he hasn't the oil. Love is the oil—the 'love of Jesus.'"
"Mr. Folke," said Nettie, timidly, "wasn't Jesus a peacemaker?" ”

“ Her mother would be troubled, and her father would be angry, and the lodger would be disturbed, and there was no telling how much harm would come of it. No; the peacemaker of the family must not do that. And then the words floated into Nettie's mind again, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God." Like a strain of the sweetest music it floated in; and if an angel had come and brought the words straight to Nettie, she could not have been more comforted. She felt the rats could not hurt her while she was within hearing of that music ”

“ Nettie went on, past the little bake-woman's house, and past all the thickly built part of the village. Then came houses more scattered—large handsome houses, with beautiful gardens and grounds, and handsome palings along the road-side. Past one or two of these, and then there was a space of wild ground; and here Mr. Jackson was putting up a new house for himself, and meant to have a fine place. The wild bushes grew in a thick hedge along by the fence, but over the tops of them Nettie could see the new timbers of the frame that the carpenters had been raising that day. ”

“ He ate it with an eagerness which let Nettie know she must make another slice as fast as possible.
"Hallo! Nettie—I say, give us some of that, will you?" said Barry, finding his porridge poor in taste.
"Barry, there isn't bread enough—I can't," whispered Nettie. "We've got to keep a loaf for supper."
"Eat what you've got, or let it alone!" thundered Mr. Mathieson, in the way he had when he was out of patience, and which always tried Nettie exceedingly.
"She's got more," said Barry. "She's toasting two pieces this minute. I want one." ”

“ I cannot sell much bread the winters; I live on what cost me nothing."
While saying this, Madame Auguste had filled a little pail with the riz-au-gras, and put a couple of her rolls along with it. "It must have the French bread," she said; and she gave it to Nettie, who looked quite cheered up, and very grateful.
"You are a good little girl!" she said. "How keep you always your face looking so happy? There is always one little streak of sunshine here"—drawing her finger across above Nettie's eyebrows—"and another here,"—and her finger passed over the line of Nettie's lips. ”

“ Nettie knew what her mother's sigh meant, as they mounted the stairs. Happily, nobody was at home yet but themselves.
"Now, mother," said Nettie, when she had changed her dress and come to the common room, "what's to be for supper? I'll get it. You sit still and read, if you want to, while it's quiet. What must we have?"
"There is not a great deal to do," said Mrs. Mathieson. "I boiled the pork this morning, and that was what set your father up so; that's ready; and he says there must be cakes. ”

“ Mrs. Mathieson wearily sat down and took her Testament, as Nettie begged her; and Nettie put on the kettle and the pot of potatoes, and made the cakes ready to bake. The table was set, and the treacle and everything on it, except the hot things, when Barry burst in.
"Hallo, cakes!—hallo, treacle!" he shouted. "Pork and treacle—that's the right sort of thing. Now we're going to live something like."
"Hush, Barry, don't make such a noise," said his sister. "You know it's Sunday evening."
"Sunday! well, what about Sunday? What's Sunday good for, except to eat, I should like to know?" ”

“ The wind might blow the snuff of your candle right into something that would be all a-flame by the time you're asleep. You must manage without a light somehow."
"But I can't see to find my way," said Nettie, who was secretly trembling with fear.
"I'll light you then, for once, and you'll soon learn the way. Give me the candle."
Nettie hushed the words that came crowding into her mouth, and clambered up the steep stairs to the attic. Mrs. Mathieson followed her with the candle till she got to the top, and there she held it till Nettie had found her way to the other end where her bed was. ”

“ Mathieson spent too much of his earnings on drink to find the amount necessary to clear off the scores at the grocer's shop.
From that time, as they could run up no new account, the family were obliged to live on what they could immediately pay for. That was seldom a sufficient supply; and so, in dread of the storms that came whenever their wants touched Mr. Mathieson's own comfort, Nettie and her mother denied themselves constantly what they very much needed. The old can sometimes bear this better than the young. Nettie grew more delicate, more thin, and more feeble every day. ”

“ The whole garret was filled with the winds, Nettie thought. It was hard work managing then. Shutting the shutter would bar out the stars, but not the wind, she found; and to keep from being quite chilled through at her times of prayer, morning and evening, Nettie used to take the blanket and coverlets from the bed, and wrap herself in them. It was all she could do. Still, she forgot the inconveniences; and her little garret chamber seemed to Nettie very near heaven, as well as near the sky.
But all this way of life did not make her grow strong or rosy ”

“ Mathieson: "they'll have a grand set-to after they get it up, and your father'll be in the first of it; and I somehow feel as if it would be the finishing of him. I wish almost he'd get ill—or anything to keep him away. They make such a time after a house-raising."
"Oh, mother, don't wish that," said Nettie; but she began to think how it would be possible to withdraw her father from the frolic with which the day's business would be ended. Mr. Mathieson was a carpenter, and a fine workman, and always had plenty of work, and was much looked up to among his fellows. ”

“ August, I am happy because I love Jesus. I know He loves me, and He will take me to be with Him."
"Not just yet," said the Frenchwoman, "I hope. Well, I wish I was so happy as you, Nettie. Good bye!"
Nettie ran home, more comforted by her good supper, and more thankful to the goodness of God in giving it, and happy in the feeling of His goodness, than can be told. And very, very glad she was of that little tin pail in her hand she knew her mother needed. Mrs. Mathieson had time to eat the rice broth before her husband came in. ”

“ If Nettie sighed as all this hurly-burly met her eye, it was only an internal sigh. She set about patiently bringing things to order. First she made the bed, which it took all her strength to do, for the coverlets were of a very heavy and coarse manufacture of cotton and woollen mixed, blue and white; and then gradually she found a way to bestow the various articles in Barry's apartment, so that things looked neat and comfortable. But perhaps it was a little bit of a sign of Nettie's feelings, that she began softly to sing to herself,—
"'There is rest for the weary.'"
"Hallo!" ”

“ You're a regular peacemaker!" exclaimed Mr. Mathieson, as he turned away and left her. Nettie stood still, the flush paling on her cheek, her hand pressed to her side.
"Am I that?" she thought. "Shall I be that? O Lord, my Saviour, my dear Redeemer, send Thy peace here!" She was still in the same place and position when Barry came in again.
"It's wretched work!" he exclaimed, under his breath, for his father was in the next room. "It's as slippery as the plague going down that path to the water: it's no use to have legs, for you can't hold up. ”

“ But it is beyond the power of any disturbance to take away the gladness of a heart where Jesus is. Nettie's bread was sweet to her, even that evening. Before she had well finished her supper, her father and his lodger came back. They sat down on either side the fire, and began to talk of politics, and of their work on which they were then engaged, with their employers and their fellow-workmen; of the state of business in the village, and profits and losses, and the success of particular men in making money. ”

“ Mathieson could not be persuaded; sometimes she would yield, in a despondent kind of way, and sit down with the Testament, and look at it as if neither there nor anywhere else in the universe could she find rest or comfort any more.
"It don't signify, child," said she, one afternoon when Nettie had been urging her to sit down and read. "I haven't the heart to do anything. We're all driving to rack and ruin just as fast as we can go."
"Oh no, mother," said Nettie, "I don't think we are."
"I am sure of it. I see it coming every day. Every day it is a little worse ”

“ He looked red with anger.
"You take the pail, and go get the water!" said he to his son; "and you hear me! Don't you let Nettie bring in another pailful when you're at home, or I'll turn you out of the house. You lazy scoundrel! You don't deserve the bread you eat. Would you let her work for you, when you are as strong as sixty?"
Barry's grumbled words in answer were so very unsatisfactory, that Mr. Mathieson in a rage advanced towards him with uplifted fist; but Nettie sprang in between, and very nearly caught the blow that was meant for her brother. ”

“ One morning Nettie went to Barry secretly in his room, and asked him to bring the pail of water from the spring for her. Barry had no mind to the job.
"Why can't mother do it," he said, "if you can't?"
"Mother is busy and hasn't a minute. I always do it for her." ”

“ Nor did Nettie. It was to no power under heaven that she trusted. But she must use her means. She easily got the iron from Mrs. Moss. Then she borrowed the eggs from Madame Auguste, who in Lent-time always had them; then she watched with grave eyes, and many a heart-prayer the while, the mixing and making of the waffles.
"How do you manage the iron, mother?"
"Why, it is made hot," said Mrs. Mathieson, "very hot, and buttered; and then, when the batter is light, you pour it in and clap it together, and put it in the stove." ”

“ Mathieson went out, and Nettie returned to her mother. She was sitting where she had left her. Barry was gone.
"Mother, won't you have something to eat?"
"I can't eat, child. Have you had anything yourself?"
Nettie had seized a remnant of her father's toast, and was munching it hastily.
"Mother, won't you put on your gown and come to church this afternoon? Do! It will rest you. Do, mother!"
"You forget I've got to get supper, child. Your father doesn't think it necessary that anybody should rest, or go to church, or do anything except work. ”