One day, it was hotter than usual, the sun was going down with a red glare, a low moaning wind came every now and then suddenly through the trees. As Schillie and I came down the cliffs, our knees knocked together with heat and lassitude. We had not spoken for several hours until I had said, "Come, let us go." She mutely assented, and, supporting each other, we wearily and slowly clambered down. Suddenly stopping at a a smooth place on the cliff, on which had been spread by Smart the skin of the Anaconda to dry, and which still remained as he had left it, she said to me, "Which fate do you prefer, June, would you rather now be a corpse within that skin, or yet alive with your present feelings and fears." "O, Schillie, Schillie," I exclaimed, "it is not for myself I fear, but think of all these young ones, can it really be possible or true that we are likely to spend our lives in this place."

Schillie.—"At present it seems true enough, not that you will have long to fret about it, for we shall have to bury you soon, grieving in this manner; I shall go as soon as I can after you; Madame is already gasping; and then I should like to know what will become of all the young ones."

Mother.—"I do my best, I try to think about it as little as possible. But what are your thoughts, Schillie? What do you think about them not returning for us? Is it accident, or——"

Schillie.—"Come, say no more at present, here are the girls coming to meet us. To-morrow we must settle something, it is due to them for the patience with which they have acted in the last fortnight, to take them into our councils. Give us all until to-morrow, before we finally doom ourselves to consider this island our living grave."

Mother.—"But have you no hope, Schillie, speak quickly ere they come, have you no hope?"

Schillie.—"Hope! hope for Aladdin's Lamp, Prince Hassan's Carpet, Green's Balloon, a Railway over the Sea. Hope nothing, and you won't be disappointed."

Mother.—"You are cruel, Schillie."

Schillie.—"Face the worst at once, it will save you much sorrow hereafter. Now say no more, but scrape up a smile for those poor girls if you can."

Even this uncomfortable conversation proved of so much relief to us two that we were more cheerful that evening at tea, and consequently the poor children took courage to be also a little more lively. But we were hurried to our different shelters by a clap of thunder and flash of lightning, unlike anything we had ever seen before, and the rain fell in large splashing drops. In the middle of the night, we were awakened by repeated peals of thunder crashing over our heads, while the lightning played incessantly, beautiful but most awful to behold. The rain at first came in gusts, but after a while, such a deluge poured down upon us, that in half an hour our little frail huts were beaten down over our heads. One minute's exposure to the sheets of water that were descending drenched us through. With difficulty we crawled to a little cavern, which just held us, and also permitted the servants to change the children's dripping clothes, and thus passed the whole night; but the sun arose as bright as ever, rendering the scene more brilliant and lovely, from the innumerable rain-drops bespangling everything. Not all the cold, misery, and discomfort we had undergone, besides losing our rest, prevented us exclaiming at the fresh beauty of the verdure and trees, and the sweet smell of the thirsty earth as we emerged from our cavern.

We had first to light a great fire, and then to spread all the bedding on the rocks to dry in the sun. We soon warmed some water, and drank hot tea and coffee; but Madame showed symptoms of a violent cold, and little Felix and Winny shivered and shook as if in an ague fit. The poor little huts were entirely ruined, and what was worse still, all our stores and the different things belonging to La Luna, though carefully covered with sail cloth and other things, were yet evidently much damaged by the wet; in fact, it was not this day only that we had to deplore the effect of the night storms catching us so unprepared. We suffered for it, as will be seen hereafter, the whole time we were on the island. However, we could now only think of making ourselves comfortable again. Of course the tents had been beaten down even before the huts; we could not shelter under the great chestnut tree, as the stream had swollen so as to surround it on all sides, washing away all our seats, a great many dinner things, books, and various other matters which we had left there, and which of course had been carried down into the sea, so that we never recovered them again. Fresh disasters were being discovered every minute, and so much were we taken up by them, that it was not until late in the evening, when tired and exhausted we sat down to tea, that the much greater weight and dread on our minds returned in full force.

After a silence, Schillie looked at me and nodded. I tried to speak, but the words would not come, they died away in whispers. All waited in anxious expectation, not knowing what was coming; at last, Sybil and Serena both rose, and coming to me, clasped their arms round me, and said, "Dear Sister, if the ship does not come back for us, we do not care so long as you are well and happy. Do not grieve on our account, everything will end well, you will see. Do you not always bid us trust in God. Let us pray then for his help, but do not grieve, do not weep thus."

But their sweet voices, and comforting words were lost amidst the wailing and weeping that arose on all sides, now that we had given voice to our sad fears. Words fail me when I think of describing this mournful and affecting scene, for one and all seemed equally certain that hope was gone, we had now been three months here, and the captain told us all, not once, but many times, that in six weeks for certain he should return. Something therefore must have happened. Either the vessel must have foundered, or they had failed in getting another vessel for us, or they had met with some accident, or worse than all from the instruments being destroyed on deck during the storm Captain MacNab had not been able to take any observations so as to settle whereabouts this island was, and he was perhaps now sailing about unable to find us. For it was a most singular thing which we had several times noticed, that during the whole time we had been there we had never seen a vessel on the horizon. That was a mournful evening, so sad and painful that I am sure none of those who participated in it could forget it as long as life lasted. And in the midst of the fears that assailed us regarding our future lot, many were the sorrowful thoughts we had as to what could have become of the kind good Captain, the faithful and attached Smart, and all those worthy companions, so lately forming a part of ourselves. Darkness had long wrapped the little island in her dull mantle, but sobs were heard in different parts of the little cavern in which we had all been obliged to congregate for the night, and gentle whispers of prayer to the giver of all good rose now and then in the stillness of the night, shewing that some hearts felt too deeply to sleep; the overwrought minds sought comfort from the bountiful fountain of love and compassion, that increaseth as it is poured forth. And full well can we say, our trust hath not been in vain, deeply as we suffered then and since. But on looking back to that time, and all the subsequent trials that have befallen us, I think this period was the most painful we ever endured. Not only were we in miserable uncertainty about ourselves, but we lost and bewildered ourselves in painful conjectures as as to what could have become of our companions.

To have been told that they were really destroyed, that we should never see them more, that we must depend upon ourselves for every thing, and upon chance that we might be taken from the island, would I think have been less painful to bear than the state in which we found ourselves. At any rate then we should have known what to do, and would in all probability have exerted ourselves to better our condition as best we could.

But at present we were like people suddenly left in the dark, with the additional feeling of not knowing when it would be light again, or what we could do to free ourselves. Say that we were to sit still, and wait with patience, hoping the best, believing it impossible that we could be alone and deserted, this could not last, we could not sit still for ever. Say that we immediately made up our minds to the worst; that we were alone, and to be so for an indefinite, perhaps final period; that we must shift for ourselves; that our welfare, peace, comfort, food, clothing, solely depended on our own exertions; then, perhaps, after making these exertions, after using every effort, and they would be no slight ones, but must commence immediately with great toil, and anxious thought, they would arrive, we should be saved, and thus have undergone unnecessary labour and fatigue for nothing.

Yet we were at present fitted for neither of these fates. The life of ease and enjoyment without care or thought, that we had indulged in for two months; the indolent habits we had contracted from the, to us, unusual hot climate; the strangeness and suddenness of our fate, all combined to unnerve us, and for the present overwhelm the energy and strength of character necessary for such emergency.

That was a memorable night, calm and serene, as it was after the great storm of the preceding one. Troubled and tempest-tost was each heart as it awakened scared by its own dreams, through which ran wild visions of the beloved faces, perhaps never more to be seen. Yearnings after the homes we had so thoughtlessly left, the scenes we might never more behold, the voices perchance we should never hear again. Every thing we loved and valued and had left! seemed on this memorable night to come vividly before us. Was it therefore to be wondered that with subdued and chastened feelings we all met the next day, the elder ones steeling their hearts, and recovering their minds to enter into a regular discussion and investigation of the fate destined for them; the younger ones meek and sorrowful but most loving and engaging in their simple reliance on our words, and their quiet, but watchful anticipations of our looks and wishes, and this day happened to be a Sunday.

We generally performed the church service on an elevated, but small platform above the dining place, looking down upon the great chestnut tree, and indeed upon all our possessions. Thus endeavouring to realize the scenes so often seen in England, where the pretty simple church, with its graceful spire, is seen on an elevated place, while the humble cottages, and rose-covered houses clustered round its base.

To make the resemblance more perfect, one single large cocoa-nut tree, with its tall stem and fan-like head, was the only tree growing near the spot, and the children were wont to call this tree when its solitary condition caught their eye, the church spire.

The cliff shelved over some feet, making a natural shade and cover, and here we placed the proper seats, two only being at the foot of the tree whose occupants read and responded to the church service.

Sometimes a sermon was read after the prayers, but more often it was my habit to give each of the young ones a text from the Holy Bible, and from that they made small sermons, or rather remarks of their own which were meant only for the Mother's eye, and sacredly respected by her in that particular.

On this Sunday, the prayers being over, the psalm sung, they waited a short space for me to give them their texts as usual, but seeing how sorrowful and weak I was, and so slow in finding them out, they asked to choose their own texts for this time, which I willingly granted.

They separated to perform their own tasks until dinner time, after which Schillie and I intended between us to enter into a full discussion of our present state, and future lot, assisted by Madame, before them all. "In the multitude of councillors there is knowledge," and tho' many of our party were so young, yet I have often noticed happy thoughts, and very sage ideas rise in little heads, and amongst so many might not some brilliant conception arise, some fresh thought be promulgated which had escaped the harassed minds, and jaded spirits of the older heads. My readers shall judge of this in the next chapter.



CHAPTER XVIII.

The meal was finished, everything was cleared away, the two maids were bid come and form part of the conclave, we were all equal now, and every one was to have a voice in this council.

Madame began by saying that she thought I was unnaturally hasty in concluding that we were really left on this island for life. "So many things, dear Madam, may have occurred to prevent their coming, of which we know nothing. Besides, Captain MacNab knew that we had provisions for six months, and he might not like to trust the vessel to the hurricanes that often precede the rainy season."

Mother.—"That is very true, Madame, but I don't think the Captain would willingly put us to such anxiety; besides, he knows that we have no shelter to screen us from the violent effects of the rain."

Madame.—"But I think, Madam, we should not so immediately conclude that he is not coming at all, and that we are inevitably left alone here."

Mother.—"I do not conclude so inevitably, but it is better to come to some decision than to spend our time as we have done the last six weeks. Had we not spent our days in hoping instead of doing we should not be in such an uncomfortable situation as we are now. Two children have certainly got symptoms of ague, and you have a wretched cold and cough, half our worldly possessions are more or less damaged by the rain, and should it return, where are we to look for shelter, what can we do to preserve the goods left us?"

Madame.—"I have no doubt that the storm of the other night was only the precursor of the rainy season, which lasts from fifteen to twenty-five days in the climate to which I have been accustomed."

Mother.—"Then there is the more necessity for our exerting ourselves. Tell me, Schillie, what do you think?"

Schillie.—"I think nothing. If we are to be drowned, it's the same to me whether it is by rain or sea."

Mother.—"Nay, you are unkind. It is at moments like these when clear heads and quick wits are most invaluable. You surely don't intend to burden me with the sole arrangement of this painful and arduous undertaking."

Schillie.—"I don't see what you have got to bother yourself about. You would build a hut spite of all I could say, and the first shower drove it down on your ears."

Several voices exclaimed, "Oh, cousin Schillie, a shower! did you call that dreadful storm a shower!" while Madame lifted up her hands and eyes, and said, "it was a fearful deluge."

Schillie.—"Yes, yes, I dare say it was rather heavy; but it is nothing to what we shall have."

"Heaven forbid," again exclaimed Madame, while the little ones seemed equally aghast at the idea.

Mother.—"I grant that building more huts is out of the question, and, besides, we have not time, I suppose, but we must do something to save what we have left of our property. Come, girls, what can you suggest?"

Sybil.—"I can only think of covering everything with those great big plantain leaves."

Serena.—"And we can put stones on them to keep them down; and by putting a great many layers, I don't think it is possible the rain can get through."

Mother.—"And you, Gatty."

"Oh," said Gatty, getting very red, and twisting her pocket handkerchief into a series of knots, "I don't know much about such things, but," seeing she must speak out, "perhaps stowing them away under a big tree would do."

Zoe.—"I think the same as Gatty, Mother, for it must be impossible for the heaviest rain to get through some of the thick trees out there."

Winny.—"I am not certain which plan I think best; but I will wait and hear what Mother thinks before I quite decide."

Lilly.—"I think digging a deep hole, and burying them in the sand would be the best."

Oscar.—"Just as if the rain would not go through the sand. You always think of such out-of-the-way things, Lilly."

Mother.—"But I do not think hers's such a bad idea, I think it a very good one for such a little girl; but what do you think best yourself?"

Oscar.—"I think we had much better put them all safe in the cavern in which we sleep, especially the powder and shot, because if that gets wet it is done for, and we can dry ourselves by a fire, and yet not be hurt."

Madame.—"Oh, my dear boy, you do not know how dangerous it is to get wet in this climate, and as for sleeping out all night, you would not be alive for one week."

Oscar.—"But it is of very great consequence, Madame, that we should preserve the guns, and powder, and shot. Supposing your friends, the savages, should come, how are we to kill them if I have no powder and shot, I should like to know."

Felix warmly supported Oscar, merely saying, "If Mama's plan is a better one, I will choose that, but I suppose you won't mind, Oscar!" Oscar set him at rest on this subject.

Hargrave vehemently protested against the powder and shot being placed any where near, what she considered her property, namely all our clothes, trinkets, bonnets, and caps, and bitterly bewailed the mischief the storm had done amongst various silk dresses, and pretty smart caps. Nearly all the young ladies' bonnets were more or less hurt, and not finding her wits capable of discussing any other subject, we released her from the obligation placed on every one else, namely to give their opinion on what we should do.

Jenny sided with her dear Miss Lilly, partly because she had been snubbed by Oscar, and partly because she had a great opinion of her sense and quickness.

Having gone the round of the family, nothing remained but to sum up the whole, and make the most of it. That most was so little, we were soon all in high discussion again. Madame and Oscar being the principal talkers, and carrying on their dispute to some length, she declaring the cavern must not be given up, he vociferating that the powder and shot must be saved. They at length arrived at a pitch, so as to extract an observation from Schillie, which was one reason why I had allowed the boy to argue so much.

Schillie.—"Madame, it is too hot to get into such a stew. Do you imagine there is only one cavern in the island?"

Oscar.—"And so I wanted to tell Madame, but she would not hear me out. I did not want your old cavern, Madame, I only wanted to put all the things safe in some cavern."

Schillie.—"I think, instead of making all this noise, we had better go and search for some more caverns."

Madame.—"But it is Sunday."

Schillie.—"Necessity has no law, Madame, besides the heavens are at work, see!"

As she spoke, the lightning played before us, and the heavy thunder broke over our heads. We crouched beneath the rock, but the cloud passed away, the sun came out again, brilliantly lighting up the rain-drops which fell sharply and heavily for ten minutes.

"Now then," said Schillie, "we will all go and search for caverns. You had better lie down, as you look done up. We will be absent an hour, or you may sound the conch-shell to bring us home in time for evening church. And, Hargrave, have something ready to drink when we return. I shall be dying of thirst, I know."

Every one followed her, Madame and Hargrave only making short searchings near at hand. In the meantime, I lay down and looked at all the texts the young ones had brought to me, as was their custom before the Sunday dinner, and which on this day they had chosen for themselves. How profoundly was I affected at the selection they had made, and the simple trustful observations accompanying each, while the wish to comfort pervaded them all, mixed with hopeful anticipations that all would end well, and earnest protestations that they would be very good, and I had only to speak to be obeyed. But I think their own papers will better show the comfort and consolation they gave me than all I can say on the subject, and I will therefore give them verbatim:—

SYBIL'S SERMON.

Psalm 107, verses 4, 5, 6.—"They went astray in the wilderness out of the way, and found no city to dwell in. Their soul fainted within them. So they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered them out of their distress."

How good is our great Father in giving such consolation to us. We cannot believe He will forsake us, when in almost every page of His Holy Book we find promises of help and deliverance to those who trust in Him; and how happy should we feel in believing that the greater our sorrow and desolation the nearer we are to Him who afflicts those whom he loveth. Let us think also what comfort he has left us still—that we are not solitary in this lonely island—that our Mothers and dear companions are with us; and let us show our gratitude for such mercies left us by becoming more obedient, loving, and dutiful to those whose sorrow for our forlorn state is so deep. May we be a comfort to our Mother, and always think that in this small island, as in the great world, our thoughts and actions are known, our prayers are listened to by One who has promised never to leave or forsake us. How happy it is to think that on this Holy day numbers of our fellow creatures are in our own dear country praying "for all those in danger, necessity, and tribulation," and whose voices in earnest prayer meet ours, and join with those of the choir of angels above. We may hope that He who supports and sends us comfort in our despair may console our sorrowing ones at home, and give them hopes, as He does us, of meeting them again in this world. For our Saviour, Jesus Christ's sake, whose loving words "It is I, be not afraid," follow us and comfort us far from home. We will ask him to look down and guard our little island, which He brought from the depths of the sea, to be our refuge from storms and winds. To Him whose care is over us we commit ourselves, and those near and dear to us, and we will believe "that those who cry unto the Lord in their trouble He delivereth them from their distress."

SERENA'S SERMON.

"Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another, and the Lord hearkened."—Malachi iii. 16.

We beseech Thee, O Lord, to hear us, for we fear Thee and love Thee. We are separated from those we love; we cannot speak to them, or they to us; we have little prospect before us of ever seeing them again; but we have the gracious Lord to speak to, and we have His gracious promise that He will hear us. Through our Father in Heaven we can hold intercourse with our Father on earth. We pray for him, and we know God heareth the prayer that goeth not out of feigned lips. He prays for us, and God heareth him, as we see daily, hourly, in the lovely place allotted to us, in the fruits that rise before us, in the flowers that spring up to our hands, in the love we bear each other, and, oh, more than all, in the privilege that we may speak to each other of the Lord's mercies and loving kindnesses, and know that he heareth us, for Jesus Christ's sake. Then let us remember, should despondency overwhelm us, or sorrow cast her gloomy mantle upon us, that this land is not our "abiding place," that here we have no "continuing city," but that beyond the tomb we have an house prepared, not made with hands, where we shall not only meet those from whom we have been torn in this life, but such things "as eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive."

GERTRUDE'S SERMON.

"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint."—Isaiah xl. 31.

It is a very happy thing for us that the great God has mercifully promised in such numerous places in the Bible health and strength in our hour of need, for, indeed, we require it now more than ever I remember before; for, though we have everything we could want in this wretched little island, we seem doomed to pass our days here, never more to see everything we loved at home. But there is a heaven above, where there is to be no sorrow, where "tears shall be wiped away from every eye," and to this we must raise our hearts, trusting that God will renew our strength and make us strong to fulfil our duties until the time comes for us to meet them. We must pray to Him that we be not weary or faint in doing the work He has set before us, that we may be worthy of going to that place where "the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest."

ZOE'S SERMON.

"Oh! what great troubles and adversities hast Thou showed me, and yet didst Thou turn and refresh me."—Psalm lxxi. 8.

Ever since we left our happy home we have been troubled and tossed about. Many adversities have fallen upon us that we never thought could have happened. But God has willed it so, and for wise purposes. Perhaps He thought us too happy; perhaps it was necessary to do us good that we should be thus afflicted. Let us then not grieve, but look into our hearts to see our faults, and then we shall have so much to do that time will pass quickly, and we shall have peace and comfort in our minds beyond all other pleasure, the peace that our Heavenly Father gives to those who strive to please Him. This will make our little island like a paradise, preparing us for the happy and beautiful paradise where we shall meet all those we love so much.

WINNY'S SERMON.

"But God shall deliver the island of the innocent."—Job xxii. 30.

I think this is an island in which we now live, and I think that we who are in it are innocent people; therefore God will love us, and take care of us, for He tells us so in His Holy Book. Look at my text, and study it; there is a great promise, and nobody in the world, I am sure, wants such a promise so much as we poor lonely people do. Let us then be very innocent and good, and then we shall be certain that God means that holy promise, which I have written down as my text for us, and just as much as if He spoke it to us. And, though we are all alone here, we have our Bibles to teach us to be innocent people, and that's what no savages or heathen people have, and, therefore, we should rejoice and be glad, and sing a song of thankfulness. And now I think I have explained my text, and have only to say that we must often pray to our Heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ, because without His help we cannot be innocent people.

LILLY'S SERMON.

"Comfort ye, comfort ye my people."

When we look into the Holy Book of God, at every page we read something that does us good; that is, if our hearts are rightly turned towards God, so that we wish to do His will and not our own. Lo I opened my Bible at this place, and found my text, and think it very proper for us, for we do comfort each other, and God comforts us, and we have nothing to wish for, and nothing to want, except to see our homes once more. And, if God wills that we should return home, how happy and grateful shall we be, and if He does not, we have much to do here, especially in comforting each other, and, if we work cheerfully, without sorrow and grief, great shall be our reward in heaven.

END OF THE SERMONS.



CHAPTER XIX.

While I was thus thinking my dear companions returned from their search which had been very successful. I kissed and thanked them all for their pretty thoughts and comforting words, and told them how much good they had done me, and how, for this once I must show them all to Madame and Schillie, that they might derive the same pleasure from them that I did, to which Sybil, as spokeswoman for all, gave a smiling blushing consent, and, though they did not read them just then, yet I may as well say that Madame could not sufficiently express her admiration of these innocent Sermons, and got leave from me and them to copy them into a book of her own; and, whenever she was ill or out of spirits, we always saw the little marble-covered book, containing them, brought out and regularly studied.

Schillie, in a more characteristic manner, expressed her approbation, saying that they were all good worthy children, and they wrote much better Sermons than most she had heard, for, besides being greatly to the point, they were extremely short.

And, now to return to the caverns. They had found a perfect series of comfortable places, as they called them, some being connected with others, so that we could go from one to the other without being exposed to the wet.

We had another severe storm that night, but the next day we worked and stowed everything away as well as we could. The old original cavern, being to Oscar's great delight the receptacle for the gunpowder and ammunition, more because it was the furthest from the others than from any particular wish to oblige him. Every now and then in the midst of our arrangements we had a severe storm, generally accompanied with thunder and lightning. To be exposed to one for only a few minutes wetted us quite through, therefore not wishing to lose a moment of such precious time, it was not until late in the evening that we changed or rested. At the end of three days we had done wonders, but had nearly done ourselves up also. That morning there was no sun; nothing but continual pouring down of rain all day, and so it continued for a fortnight. During this time we made ourselves more comfortable in the three caverns, which communicated with each other; one of which was very dark and close. The lighter ones we used all day, but they smelt damp and unwholesome, and the children began to grow pale, and become restless. Besides our food was but indifferent; no fruit or vegetables, or fish. Eggs we had in abundance from the chickens and ducks we had brought with us, and which had scarcely ceased laying since we arrived, so much did they thrive in this luxuriant island. The evenings were very tedious, and we had to invent all sorts of games which would at once amuse them, and yet be exercise also.

Felix and Winny were both attacked with ague, and Madame had so bad a cough no lessons could be done. I wondered at first, on hearing Gatty's eager enquiries every morning after Madame, until I accidently heard in answer by Hargrave that Madame had not slept during the night, "All right, girls, the cough is delightfully bad." This put me and Schillie upon employing our spare time in teaching them ourselves, which announcement was at first received rather coldly; but they derived such infinite amusement from our inaptness to the business that they were quite impatient if anything prevented us performing this office. With the utmost gravity and demureness Gatty would bring me the same lesson to repeat every day; and though I must, in justice to myself, allow that I thought it must be the easiest book in the world, it seemed all the same thing, I was too innocent to imagine she was amusing herself at my expense. How long I should have gone on I know not, but her exquisite delight at my simplicity was too great to be kept in, she told her own secret amidst the laughter of all, her dupe being one of the most amused. Sybil and Serena took equal liberties, all more from the love of fun than real delinquency, so that during our reign lessons were at a premium. Schillie undertook writing and summing, and as she was always mending pens and cutting pencils, holding one or other between her lips, she was often not in a condition to reprimand by words, consequently a tap on the head, a blow on the cheek, a pinch on the arm, generally expressed her disapprobation. Moreover, she was very impatient if the sums were done wrong, and exclaiming, "Good lack, what young noodles," would do the sums again herself, instead of making the delinquents correct them. This plan I pronounced with great dignity as highly improper; she, in dudgeon, said I was a noodle too, and we came to high words, much to the delight and gratification of our pupils.

But Sybil and Serena delighted in drawing her out while they were all three reading aloud to her in turns their English History. Then warmed with her subject, delighting in all the political and historical details, she would take the book from their hands, and enter into long discussions, her strong whig principles startling the two bred and born tory girls into sufficient argument and opposition to give piquancy and eloquence to her words as they flowed rapidly from her lips. During these periods, Gatty, who only cared to get done as quick as possible what she was obliged to do, and thought all these digressions a great bore, employed her idle fingers in whatever mischief lay within her reach. If she had no pocket handkerchief to twist into holes, it took her but a few minutes to dog-ear a whole book; or, probably, the energetic discussion and the attentive listeners would be interrupted by a sudden crash, proclaiming the tearing of something, and each would instinctively look round for their handkerchiefs; or she would collect little animals, like ants, spiders, or flies, and, having got a handful, would empty them over one of the three; in fact, she would do anything to put an end to the discussion, that they might finish their allotted task and get it over. Then in wrath Schillie would turn round and exclaim, "You idle young monkey, why don't you go on with your reading?"

Gatty (demurely).—"If you please, little Mother, we can't."

Schillie.—"Cannot! What stops you, I should like to know? Nothing but your own laziness, keeping me waiting here all day."

Gatty (still more meekly).—"If you please, little Mother, you have got the book."

Schillie.—"Got the book! Who wants to keep your book? I am sure I don't; I only wish to have done with you as soon as possible."

Gatty.—"If you please, little Mother, you stopped us to talk about those people."

Schillie.—"Those people indeed! You who ought to be more interested in such characters than the other girls, because your Father's name will be handed down to posterity in the same manner. I am quite done up with you being such an owlet, Gatty."

Gatty.—"If you please, little Mother, I don't care about them at all. They are all dead, and they are nothing to me, and I only wish they had not lived, and then we should not have had such a long History of England to read through."

Such speeches were too much for Schillie's fortitude, and Gatty's sparkling eyes showed how successful her man[oe]uvres were in being dismissed at once, "as too stupid to be borne with."

Sometimes I handed over the little girls to her to say their lessons, and they were invariably dismissed before they could have said half of them. And when I enquired the reason thereof, "Poor little victims," she answered, "what is the use of addling their brains with such a cart load of lessons, one more silly than another. As if they could not order a much better dinner than is mentioned in this French phrase book, and all that trumpery poetry; and their geography book is the stupidest I ever saw, as if they did not all know what an island is. It's my opinion they will know too well what an island is, without learning it in a book."

With the boys she got on pretty well, except hurting Felix's feelings now and then by saying, "Now learn your book, and don't eat it this time," which allusion generally caused a tear or two, he having a well very near his eyes.

None of the young ones were anxious to give up their new governesses, but they, on the contrary, hailed the return of fine weather with great joy.



CHAPTER XX.

I fancied we all looked quite mouldy, when we emerged from our dusky dark caverns. But the weather was so delicious, so cool and refreshing; everything was so green and beautiful that we soon revived. I thought it necessary to take an inventory of all our possessions, that we might husband them as much as possible. We also attended greatly to our gardens, and the few remaining potatoes that we had were planted that we might not be totally bereft of such a useful vegetable. I never saw anything like the growth of the English vegetables we had brought with us. They were almost too luxuriant, approaching to rankness.

Day after day passed by and we were still alone. No ardently-desired vessel hove in sight, nothing met our longing gaze as we daily scanned the horizon. Fearing the inevitable lowness of spirits that such constant hoping and longing, followed by as constant disappointment, must end in, I, one evening, said that I should not at all like being cooped up in those caverns again the next rainy season.

Schillie.—"Now if you mention one word about building one of your old huts, you shall be whipt."

Mother.—"Oh no, no! I have had quite enough of the huts. I have not the smallest intention of building such another flimsy affair."

Schillie.—"Then if you are going to talk common sense, I am quite willing to listen. Those caverns certainly put one rather in mind of one's grave, and I cannot get the nasty dead smell of them out of my nose. Now then, June, be speedy, and let us hear your intentions. Shall we build a boat, and betake ourselves off or shall we live al fresco, despite Madame's fears, or what? Come, speak up."

Mother.—"I don't fancy building a boat at all, much less trusting myself in it; but, agreeing with you in your horror of huts, I think we must now make a good substantial house."

"Your horror!" said Schillie. "Delightful," exclaimed all the others. "What splendid fun. How very charming. Where shall it be? Let us begin immediately."

Spite of all her opposition, Schillie knew very well we must have a house, and the more she grumbled I knew the harder she would work. So everybody was ordered to use their best wits, and give their opinions as to the kind, size, situation, and other things belonging to the intended mansion, and at tea-time the sense of the company was to be taken. In the meantime I compared our list of goods, with what the captain had made out for us, and found that we had suffered considerably by the rain. Out of seven barrels of flour four were nearly spoilt; a cask of cheese and ship's biscuit was all that remained of those commodities; not a bit of the salted beef and pork could be touched, we had to throw it all away, but some bacon and hams were quite good. We had four or five cases of preserved meats, but, as Jenny observed, we could eat those up in a week, and then what were we to do for meat. I gave her clearly to understand that we must do without meat for the future, which caused her to drop one of our saucepans in surprise and dismay, while she exclaimed, "Whatever, Ma'am, shall we do about Master Felix if he has no meat, and he growing so fast?" "Whatever, Jenny, shall we do if you knock holes in the saucepans in such a careless way?" said I. Jenny apologised as best she could, but it was evident all the saucepans in the world might get punched into holes provided her little master had meat for his dinner every day; she comforted herself very much, however, thinking of the ducks and chickens, though she bewailed over his great affection for mutton chops and beef steaks, and now for the future that weakness of his would run no chance of being gratified.

The potatoes were nearly all gone, as before mentioned, but that was to be only a temporary deprivation. We had stores sufficient to last for six months of rice, sago, tapioca, tea, coffee, sugar, raisins, and all those kind of things; but the ship's provisions, which had been mostly left behind to lighten the vessel (the Captain having only taken what was just necessary) were greatly damaged by the rain; they had not been in good tin cases like ours, and eventually were of little use. The packets of seeds became now our most valuable possessions. We had a great quantity of ropes, spars, sails, and other things belonging to the vessel, carpenters' tools, nails, screws, &c., all of which became invaluable to us, though we afterwards discovered a good substitute for nails in the thick sharp thorns of a species of Cactus. We had a great deal of furniture, sofas, bedding, hammocks, tables, chairs, bookcases, a great deal of pantry furniture, of which we were now most careful, knowing we could never replace the china or glass; also, we had a plate chest, in which we had silver to the value of L200. Of kitchen utensils we were greatly in want, almost everything having been lost in the caboose when it was washed away. We had two kettles and a small boiler. The men had constructed a sort of fire-place and oven for Jenny before they left, but it was so far from the dining place that we had everything generally cold. We had about six dozen bottles of various sorts of wine, a large cask of rum and another of brandy, which belonged to the ship's company, plenty of beer, ale, and porter, which, however, being in casks, spoilt long before we could drink it, from the heat of the climate. But such details must be tedious, as it can be easily imagined what our possessions would be out of a vessel victualled, furnished, and prepared for a twelve months' voyage. The result of the investigation, however, proved that of civilized food we had but little, and that we must soon set about preparing to live upon what the island would afford us. And when I looked round on the fertility and richness surrounding us, and the vast variety of food we could indulge in, I could not help thanking the Giver of all good for so much mercy showered upon us in the midst of such extraordinary events.

We had one cock and eleven hens and about seven ducks, all of whom seemed to provide themselves with food, without any assistance from us.

Every one knows that in preparing for a sea voyage quantities of linen are necessary; we were therefore most fortunate in that particular. I had also pieces of muslin, white and coloured, which I brought to make frocks for the young ones in the hot climates, knowing how fast they would grow. I left the arrangement of the clothes to Hargrave, who grumbled and put away, and put away and grumbled to her heart's content. She arranged all the best dresses and also the fine things, laces and trinkets, in such a manner that she could constantly look at them, as she could not have the satisfaction of seeing us wear them, and to each person was given out a certain quantity of wearing apparel that was to last a given time. But these are such dry details, that I will proceed at once to tea, at which such an important subject as building a house was to be discussed.



CHAPTER XXI.

While I and the two maids had been undergoing the dull labour mentioned in the preceding chapter, all the others had been attending to their gardens, and they all flocked to tea, laden with fruit and decorated with flowers, looking so pretty and happy that I could not but think, whatever our lot, we should retain our spirits and cheerfulness to the end. Schillie came last, dragging with her a heap of unknown lichens, creepers, and mosses, on all of which she wanted me to hold a consultation as to what they could be.

Having made some highly-satisfactory guesses, and also having discovered amongst our books one on Botany, and another on Natural History of all kinds, and also the Travels of a Gentleman in the West Indies, that gave a very accurate account of all the productions natural to the climate we were in, she was in an especial good humour.

Sybil begged earnestly that the house might be in the gothic style, which upset Schillie a little, but she pooh, poohed it off, until Serena came out with a vehement hope that it might be a Swiss cottage. "Swiss fiddlestick," retorted Schillie, "my dear girls, if you think I shall break my back and spoil my hands ornamenting a house for you, you will find yourselves wonderfully deceived." She had very pretty small white hands. Gatty thought it would be delightful to cut down a tree, and muttered something about the impossibility of learning lessons and building a house at the same time. In this she was unanimously supported by several youthful voices, and Madame was already appealing to me by looks of a most pathetic kind (she had the most extraordinary horror of a holiday that I ever saw), and Schillie, on seeing her look, exclaimed, "Well, Madame, you are certainly not of the same species as I am. I should be only too willing to give them holidays every day if I were their governess." "Yes, Madame," said Sybil, "and she acts up to it; for when you were ill, I heard her say to the little girls that she would give them a whole holiday that day because they had had only half a one the day before." Madame looked horror-stricken, and mournfully shook her head at Schillie.

Mother.—"Come, come, now, about this house. Where shall we put it up!"

Many places were suggested, and at last, partly because there were so many trees there, partly because we fancied it more sheltered, and partly because it was such a lovely spot, we fixed upon the little valley or glade which was sheltered by the cliffs on one side and by a thick wood on the other. In the centre was the great tree which had bewildered us so by its strange movements while under the influence of the great Anaconda. Inland, beyond the tree, was the pretty peaceful lake, and a sloping terrace took us down to it.

Great impatience was now manifested on all sides to begin; Madame alone was in low spirits. It had been decreed by the higher powers that, until we could see how we got on in this new and unusual work for feminine fingers, it was as well to employ the whole force of the island; besides, after being screwed up in the caverns, where lessons and Madame were met at every corner, and there was no escape, a little holiday would be a great boon. The piano had been sadly damaged by the wet, so we begged her to set it right, that it might be ready for the new drawing room.

We all drew plans of the house first, and, to the surprise of everybody, Schillie's was undoubtedly the best. So the little Mother was well bullied for being so disgusted at having to build a house, and yet taking the trouble of making such a good plan. She was made clerk of the works on the spot. Gatty's plan had consisted of merely one square. "On one side we can sleep," she said, "and on the other sit and do all we have to do." "But where are we to eat?" said Sybil. "Oh, I think nothing so stupid as having regular meals," said Gatty. "When I have a house of my own, I never intend to order anything, but I shall go to the cupboard and eat when I am hungry." "But," said Winny, "I don't see a cupboard in your plan, Gatty." "Oh, we will stick one up somewhere, little one," returned Gatty.

The high spirits with which every one began their allotted tasks rather gave way under the fatigue and hard work, so unusual to delicate fingers. Gatty had earnestly begged to cut down the tree, with Jenny, Oscar, and Schillie to help. Sybil's hands were too slight and small to hold the hatchet, so she had to collect grass and moss with the young ones. The first tree that was cut down, how often it was anathematized, it seemed determined not to come down. Hot and panting we sat down one after another to rest, and a sort of vague notion kept running in our heads, if one tree is such a trouble, what shall we do having to cut down so many. But Schillie was not to be daunted by a tree; taking a great glassful of porter, she called on us all to set to work again, partly laughing at us, partly praising us, and especially animating us by her energetic example; at length down came our first tree with a delightful crash. And happy were the boys, sitting astride on the branches, and sawing away as if they received wages for all they did. The next tree was more civil, and came down in half the time; the fact is, we grew more expert, and at last it was but one hour's task among us all to fell one. In a week we had cleared a good space, sawn and chopped a vast quantity of wood, and then the clerk of the works ordered me to get a great feast ready, as the next day she was going to lay, not the first stone, but the first tree of our house. So we went in great state to the ceremony, and we took a bottle of wine with us to drink success to the new house, and the clerk of the works made a very neat and appropriate speech, in which, however, she showed herself on rather too familiar terms with her workpeople; and I, in return, proposed, "health and long life to the clerk of the works," which was received with great cheering and applause. Madame became quite merry, and having settled the well-being of the piano, actually offered her services to assist in the building, and never mentioned lessons the whole day. We had a superb feast. A magnificent dish of fish, the last piece of beef in our possession, peas, bacon and beans, roasted yams, a glorious plum-pudding, with brandy blazing up in the middle, fruit, beautiful to behold and delicious to taste. Then, after dinner, we sang songs, and Madame told us some stories, and we went to bed extremely happy, but nearly as weary of our day's pleasure as we were of our daily work, we had laughed and talked so much. It was quite a month before the clerk of the works would allow us to consider our house fit to be looked at, and I cannot say it was ever quite finished, as we always found something to alter and arrange in it. It consisted of one hall in the middle, thirty feet long, twenty feet wide, the walls of which were composed of the trees we had cut down, a double row of them, the intermediate space being filled up with everything we could collect in the shape of grass and moss; the inside was plastered with clay, which, after a while, we painted, as we had a good store of oils and turpentine and other things, which had been designed for the ship. On both sides of the hall, we had what we called lean-tos, the roofs of which began where the roof of the hall ended, and they sloped down to within four feet of the ground. The other side, or point of the hall, was the entrance. The sheds on each side opened into the hall, but had no other outlet. There were two on each side and one at the end opposite the entrance, which was a kitchen and scullery. Of the four little side rooms, Schillie and I occupied the one on the right hand of the door, Madame and the three little girls the next one, the two maids and two boys opposite us, and the three girls opposite Madame. The little girls used our room to dress and wash in, so that Madame's was not intruded upon except at night, and she could keep it quiet for herself when she wanted to lie down and rest. The bed places were put just where the roof was lowest, so that, in fact, when lying down, our faces were within two feet of the roof, but, by this means, we had more room in which to stand upright and move about. The kitchen had an outlet at the side. The reason we made our side roofs slope down so much was to allow the rain to fall off quicker, and to let hurricanes blow over us, if possible, without finding any resisting substance the wind could blow away. Then all round our house we planted the prickly pear, which grew like a weed, so that nothing could attack our dwelling from the outside, excepting by the door, and that makes me remember to remark that we had no door at all, and we often laughed at ourselves for taking such care to guard the sides of the house when we left open the only place where there was an entrance. However, then we were under no alarm regarding thieves and robbers. But we had a sail-cloth curtain, which at night we fastened with bars of wood across, as much to prevent the wind flapping it to and fro as to hinder anything getting in; also, each bed-room had a curtain before its door or entrance. We had a great deal of trouble with the roof it must be acknowledged, even the clerk of the works stamped her foot, and went so far as to say, "Hang the roof," to which Sybil demurely replied, "That's just what we want to do."

We took three spars, one for the middle and two each side, these latter being placed two feet lower; on these we nailed a strip of sail-cloth each side, which we tarred and painted very often, especially the inside, which, at the children's request, was painted in blue, to make our roof or ceiling look pretty; above the sail-cloth outside we laid a smooth layer of leaves, and then across we nailed shingles of wood lapped one over the other, which again were seamed by cross pieces very strongly fastened. Lucky it was that the walls were so thick, otherwise such an elaborate roof could never have been supported. When finished, we all had an argument as to whether it really would resist water, and Gatty offered, with Serena to help her, to go up and empty buckets of water on it to try. This handsome offer was declined, as we thought the rain would do that soon enough, and we were at present too much in love with our work to bear the shock of finding all our labour was thrown away. I am afraid of appearing tedious in describing our many mistakes, our frequent mishaps, and the many blundering contrivances we had. Certain it is that to the clerk of the works we owed most of our neatness, to the quick wits of the girls many of our ideas, and one and all worked with a will. Nevertheless, I have no doubt that the commonest carpenter in the smallest village would have laughed at the house we built, and how we rectified gaps with grass and moss, how things warped one way and others shrunk the contrary, how nails stuck out their points and their heads were utterly lost, how screws were such a time before they would ever screw for us, how, animated by the clerk of the works, few thought of chopped fingers and hammered hands, how others ceased to shriek at the monstrous spiders, centipedes, lizards and small snakes, appearing every minute in the grass and moss; and now one and all agreed, that, in spite of every impediment, we should have the housewarming dinner and the first usage of our new mansion on the first Christmas-day we had ever spent on this unknown but lonely island.



CHAPTER XXII.

And so it was quite ready, and with what pride and satisfaction we viewed it. We took little private excursions around it; we made innumerable drives into it; we gave it affectionate little pattings, as if it was a child; we smoothed down little inequalities; we utterly denied the existence of a smell of paint, an idea hazarded by Madame. Schillie had a doubt it was rather on one side, which doubt was driven to the winds. Sybil suggested a wish that it had been made higher, for which she was scouted by the older ones, and nearly tickled to death by the younger ones. Not even the remembrance of our home put us out of conceit of our new, but certainly most clumsy mansion. Oh home! That lovely home? Are we to see it again, or is it only to be seen in a dream of the past; and our kith and kin, our kind good neighbours, all that we loved so much, were we to see them no more? But this was Christmas-day.

The young ones had swept and decorated our church, as well as they could in imitation of the churches at home. Certainly nothing could be more gorgeous than the long trailing creepers that hung suspended all round, some with scarlet flowers, some bright blue, the magnificent hibiscus, the beautiful bell-shaped datura, with innumerable others, to which we could give no names.

This was to be a complete holiday. We dressed in silks and satins, we exchanged gifts, we offered to each other the proper Christmas greeting. Can I say that no heart was sad, that no remembrance of past Christmases haunted the celebration of this day? It is but too true that sad thoughts arose, but they were not for ourselves.

I must, however, proceed with the opening of the new house, which was also to have a name given it. After church we all helped to get dinner ready. Schillie cooked with Jenny, being determined to have some superb turtle soup. I made by her orders some lime punch, Hargrave boiled vegetables of all kinds, the girls got fruit and flowers, Madame arranged them, and the boys were getting the fish. I went into the kitchen to ask Schillie some question relative to the punch, and was sent out with a word and a blow almost. Her face was blazing like a warming pan, the soup was at its most important crisis. Gatty hearing the explosion of wrath, came as was her usual custom to join in the melee, also got a shower of invectives, but, knowing the soup-pot could not be left, she stood her ground, and occupied herself in various petty acts of mischief. For instance, the new cook had a perfect series of cloths and such like articles pinned to her when she made her appearance. Hargrave found all the gourds and pipkins into which she had put the vegetables changed, and, not being naturally sweet tempered, she declared, "Miss Gertrude was the most aggravatingest creature she ever met, and she would not serve her for a pound a day." But all ended well, and the dinner was served. We had boiled chickens at the top, and roast chickens at the bottom, and we had roast ducks on both sides, and the great bowl of turtle soup was in the middle, with two jugs of lime punch each side, and we had guava jelly in two places, and a pumpkin pie, and roasted yams, and rice and fruit mixed together of all kinds. In fact, it was a perfect Lord Mayor's feast. Schillie had insisted on dining like Christians, as she called it, with dinner napkins and finger glasses. The rest of the dinner table was covered with fruits and flowers, such as I am sure no Lord Mayor ever saw at his table. Grace was said. Schillie, with the dinner napkin spread out with an air, her face still glowing, but bland in the extreme knowing that she had achieved a triumph of cookery, proceeded to serve the soup. I being the first to taste it pronounced it delicious. Madame thought it the best she had ever tasted! when we heard an exclamation from Schillie, "In the name of all that's ridiculous what's in the soup?" said she, turning wrathfully to Jenny. "Indeed, Madam, you poured it out of the pan yourself, and I only brought it in." "What can it be, here is something hard at the bottom rolling about, and I declare everything was stewed to a sponge when I last stirred it," continued she in rising choler.

Gatty (rising with great alacrity).—"If you please, little Mother, shall I try to fish it out?"

Schillie.—"Fish fiddlesticks out, indeed, Miss Gatty. Ah you may look as demure as you like, I'll be bound you are at the bottom of this mischief. I remember now, when I was taking off these rags you pinned on me, my back was turned. Now, tell me this instant, you young crocodile, what have you been putting in the soup?"

Gatty.—"If you please, little Mother, don't be so angry, it's only a stone, and I washed it quite clean."

Schillie.—"Then take that stone for your dinner, Miss, and nothing else shall you have."

This threat of course went for nothing, and Gatty had as much dinner as any of us, and, perhaps, rather more, considering that she was nearly the biggest of us all, and also never being still, she required more nourishment to keep up the demand upon the constitution.

We made Jenny and Hargrave dine with us. Hargrave mincing her words, looking dignified, and eating next to nothing, because she thought it more ladylike; while Jenny sat between her two dear boys, and made nearly as much noise as they did, swallowing all they made her taste out of their own plates, though she was helped out of the same dishes they were. The chattering on all sides could only equal the eating. I proposed the health of the new house with the first glass of lime punch. This was drank with great applause, and a discussion ensued as to what we should call it.

Schillie (with her mouth full of turtle).—"Pooh, pooh, use your brains for some other purpose. It's a house, is it not? Then why not call it a house!"

Sybil.—"But all houses have names to distinguish them."

Schillie.—"Alack, if you are not a young noodle. Pray, who has got a house here besides? A great boon it would be to have some neighbours to whom one could talk common sense."

Serena.—"Oh, we will talk as much common sense as you like, little Mother; and the first thing I shall say is, though there is but one house in the island, we may just as well make it as like home as we can, and call it the same name."

I nodded approvingly to the dear girl for her nice thought. Madame's pocket handkerchief was in requisition, while Schillie, who seemed to favour Serena's remarks with more attention than any of the others, said, "Call it any name you like, my dear child, if it gives you the smallest pleasure; only you will see house it is, and house it will be called, until a hurricane blows it down."

"Oh don't, my dear Madam," murmured Madame. "Hurricanes will come," repeated Schillie. "I would oblige you if I could, but in this particular I am not clerk of the works, and have no control."

"Then," said Sybil, "we will call it Maescelyn."

"No," said Oscar, "I won't have it called that. The real Maescelyn is a castle, very large, airy, and handsome to look at, and this is a dingy little house, with no windows in it."

What a start we all gave. It was too true. Even the clerk of the works looked quite silly. The house that had cost us such infinite labour, on which we looked with such pride and affection, had no windows of any kind or sort in its principal room. It is true the door was very wide, it is true that floods of light poured in through it, but, suppose we had to shut the door (that is when we had made one) what could we do then? It is true the little bed-rooms had each their little pigeon holes for light and ventilation, and that the back kitchen was very airy, but our hall, dining-room, drawing-room, school-room (the pride of our hearts and delight of our eyes) had no windows whatever. No wonder we all felt the remark was true. Felix spoke first, but only in a whisper, which whisper passed round among the young ones, and marvellously restored their equanimity. "There was no possibility of doing lessons in the dark." As Madame became aware of this telegraphic dispatch, and saw its effect, she grew quite nervous, which always caused her to lose her voice. In vain she attempted an expostulation, and, what between her efforts and the rising exultation, I began to apprehend she would have a fit, so I comforted her, and said, "Never mind, Madame, we will have a window without doubt somewhere, and at present you see we don't want one, for the door throws in so much light, that we never found out we ought to have windows." I don't think the clerk of the works spoke for the next half hour, she was so annoyed; but, what we thought a great misfortune proved afterwards a very desirable thing, for it was most refreshing in the glaring sunshine and hot baking air to come into the dark cool house, the walls of which being so thick, and filled up with clay, preventing the heat penetrating into it.

So we carried on the discussion about the name; Madame, Sybil, Serena, and Winifred all for calling it Maescelyn. Oscar, Felix, Lilly, and Jenny all against it. The little Mother, not having recovered herself gave no name, Gatty was waiting for her opinion before she gave any, for, though in constant warfare, their similarity of tastes made them in reality sworn friends. Hargrave also would give no name, principally because she said, "It was a 'orrifying place, and very outrageous," by which we suppose she meant outlandish. Though urged by the little ones, whom she suspected were laughing at her, to explain, she would not, but went off into a discussion upon dress, and, bidding the young ladies to look at her Mistress dressed in Christmas robes, with her hair so beautifully plaited in a basket plait, and her curls so smooth and bright, and her black satin gown sitting and hanging so becomingly and well. "And then to think she could like such a 'ole of an hisland, where no one could see how she 'ad hattired her Mistress, and to give such a 'eathen place a name too, was more than she could bear." So the girls who loved to tease her, declared her Mistress did not look one bit better than the rest of the party, and that Madame's neat plain white cap was the prettiest thing at the dinner table, or Jenny's smart blue one, with bows and ends all over it. As she was too-matter-of-fact to see any joke in this, and as her Mistress's hair was her weak point, she waxed wrath, and began a splendid description, misplacing all the h's, and making such a sad havoc amongst her parts of speech, that it was difficult to make out what she wished us must to admire, whether her Mistress, or diamonds, or black velvet, herself or hair. I had the casting vote in giving a name to the house, but, previously, I thought it as well that we should give a name to our island. "Certainly, certainly," was said on all sides, and also most voices decided it should be a Welsh name; therefore, in a glass of lime punch, after a long discussion, we christened our island "YR YNYS UNYG," the last word, Unyg, being pronounced as inig. This in English signified "The Lonely Island." Much as I wished all my dear companions to feel happy, and to be as much at home in our painful situation as circumstances would allow, and, much also as I liked the notion of our calling everything about us by home names, I yet shrunk from giving the name of our beloved home to the hut in which we now seemed doomed to pass our days. Several times I attempted to begin upon the subject, but it was too painful and I dared not trust my voice, lest its faltering should show my companions that this Christmas-day was not one of unmixed pleasure, and I was the more anxious to restrain my feelings as I could easily perceive that a little was only wanting to turn our day of feasting into one of mourning. It was not, therefore, until repeated entreaties had been urged, that, at last, I said somewhat shortly, and with an effort of hilarity, "I think we will call our house 'Cartref Pellenig,' or 'The Distant Home,' because—because—"

Schillie.—"Well, why, because."

"Oh hush, hush, cousin Schillie," said Lilly, who was always impetuous, and, throwing her arms round me, she continued, "Don't, dear Mama, my own Mother, don't cry, I cannot bear it. We shall see home again, we shall not always live here, we will be so good, we will do everything to please you. Oh Mother, my own darling Mother, don't cry so."

And so all my efforts were in vain, we were all upset, and the little house, so late the scene of merriment, now was filled with the voices of lamentation and woe. Each in their different way mourned and wept, but, as I said before, it was not so much for ourselves as for others.

We had been so busy, and had so much on our minds that we had thought of little else than mending our own condition, and doing all we could to make ourselves comfortable. To the olden heads it had been a time of great anxiety and trouble, while the younger ones had been forced out of their proper sphere of dependance, into that of companions, helpers, and advisers. We had, therefore, but little time to think of those who, it now struck us, on this Christmas-day, for the first time, would be suffering under fear and anxiety for our fate.

The same feelings that were so forcibly striking us of the relations, friends, and neighbours with whom we had always exchanged the happy Christmas greetings, would, we now began to feel, also strike them. In our family what gaps would be seen in the heretofore merry Christmas party. I looked round, Schillie was separated from her children, Gatty, Zoe, Winifred, Madame, even the poor servants, how many mourning households would there be? Not because we were missing from the Christmas party, as that was expected, but because they must be aware that something had occurred. They must now be suffering under that worst of all fears, doubt and apprehension. Eight months had passed since we had seen them, and six must have gone by since they had heard from us. There could be no doubt that, painful as our feelings were, they were now most to be pitied. Oh how we longed for the wings of a bird to fly over, and set them at rest. How the more we wept and talked about them, the more unbearable and painful grew this feeling. All that we had undergone; all that we seemed likely to undergo, appeared but as a drop on the ocean compared to the mourning and sorrow which we knew were filling the hearts of so many households, weeping, as they would be at the mysterious and unknown fate of those they loved so much. We were safe, we were well, we were comparatively happy, yet we could not tell this, and, perhaps at the time, the very time, we were celebrating our housewarming and Christmas dinner, they were lamenting us as dead.

Will it be wondered at that our Christmas-day ended in sorrow, and that we wept for those weeping for us. We talked over all they might be thinking and doing. Every speech, every sentence ending, "Oh if we could only tell them, if they could only peep into the rude hut, and see the healthy blooming faces contained therein, albeit each face was bedewed with tears, each voice was choking with sorrow." This picture would they see. The rustic rough house, with its wide open entrance, showing the table strewn with the wrecks of our feast, but brilliant with flowers and fruit. Lying on a rude grass cushion was the Mother, her hair all dishevelled with sorrow, her face lengthened with woe; close by her, with her face hidden from sight, was the little Mother; Madame leaning far back in her chair, with a handkerchief over her face, was weeping bitterly behind it; the six girls, in various groups, about the two Mothers, were each, though deeply sorrowful, trying in their own sweet ways, to speak of hope and comfort; the two boys, at a little distance, were sitting on the ground, Oscar grave and sorrowful, Felix weeping and crying while he fed his monkey to keep it quiet; the servants had retired. Beyond, through the door, was seen the deep blue quiet sea, over which we were so anxious to fly, while the rich dark foliage of the trees appeared cool and refreshing against the glowing sky. But this sadness could not last long in a party animated by christian hopes, sustained by christian faith; ere the hour for evening service arrived our sorrow grew lighter, each seemed to feel in the stored words an individual comfort, and we retired to rest committing the consolation of all near and dear to us to Him who had preserved us through so many and great dangers, for the sake of His Son Jesus Christ. Thus we sat for hours on this Christmas-day, but what was going on at home?



CHAPTER XXIII.

In a distant county, in the North of England, there was situated in a quiet country parish a rural rectory, surrounded by a garden, and adorned with the only good trees in the neighbourhood; it stood sheltered at the foot of a hill, the only rising ground to be seen amidst a flat and smoke-dried country. Within that rectory lived a venerable and venerated father, with a loving and adored mother, who had hitherto been surrounded at Christmas by the happy faces and smiling countenances of thirteen children, with their numerous offsprings.

A bright blazing fire is sending a gloomy tint all over the pretty drawing room, hung with green, and adorned with bright flowers, worked by skilful fingers. Various beautiful and rare specimens of Foreign workmanship ornament every part of the room, chairs and sofas of ease and luxury pervade the apartment, nothing seems wanting to render this room the beau ideal of an English home at Christmas time, for the bright green holly with its scarlet berries is hung in every direction. It is well inhabited too. In the high-backed old-fashioned chair sits a sweet and dignified lady, but her face had a painful expression, her eyes were fixed on nothing, her delicate white fingers were half clasped together, her thoughts seemed far away. On the opposite side of the fire sat a girl writing, whose pretty figure bent over the paper until the long chestnut curls lay resting on the table, but they quite concealed the face. A tall slim figure was busily winding silk, with her back to the fire, her dark hair, beautifully plaited in a thick Grecian plait, shewing her small head to great advantage. In full front of the fire sat another girl, whose pretty sweet face was bedewed with tears, which every now and then she wiped away. A step was heard on the stairs, the sweet Mother's eyes recovered their animation, the winder stopped from her occupation, the writer raised a pale and care-worn face, each advanced to the door as it opened to admit the grey-headed Father. He bore a packet of letters, but his face was mournful as he said, "No, none from them." "Alas, alas," said the sorrowful Mother, sinking back into her chair, "what are we to think? I see, I see, all this heap of letters, and not one contains the news we pine for. They are only repetitions of what we have already had; anxious enquiries from still more anxious parents, painful to read, still more painful to answer. I cannot read them, I cannot bear them in my sight." As they tried to comfort her, rapid wheels and fast-trotting horses' feet were heard, and the next minute a carriage with four breathless and smoking horses turned into the drive, and stood at the front door. Before they had stopped, a gentleman sprung from the carriage and bounded up stairs in a minute, his figure being concealed in a travelling cloak. As he raised his hat, he shewed the fine bald head and handsome countenance of Sir Walter Mayton. The aged father raised one hand, the sorrowful mother clasped the other, as they exclaimed, "What news, what news. Have you heard of our lost ones?" He could not bring himself to speak the negative that his sorrowful shake of the hand indicated, but another person was behind him, having come in the same carriage. Who could mistake that kind and loving face, the noble features so handsome in their regularity, so beneficent, so benign, the snow-white hair, the merry kind blue eye, the upright figure. The weeping Mother threw herself into his arms. "Don't cry, don't cry, my dear Emily," said he, the tears rolling down his rich ruddy cheek, "we shall find them again. We will go in search of them. Remember, I too am a sufferer. Have I not lost my right hand, the sunbeam of my house, my sweet, little, mischievous, pretty, fidgety Gatty," and he raised his eyes reverently to heaven, as if to invoke a blessing on his lost child; and this was Gatty's Father, who had left his court, and had come down purposely with Sir Walter Mayton to consult on the best mode of discovering the lost party, and taking the advice of all those nearly and dearly interested in them.

"Now," said Sir Walter Mayton, seeing that the painfulness of the meeting was nearly over, "now let us proceed to business. First of all, will you allow me to ring the bell for some dinner, as I can tell my story while it is getting ready, and we must leave immediately after." That matter being arranged, he proceeded, "You are aware that I, according to directions that I received from our lost party, dated Madeira, followed them to Rio Janeiro by the next packet. I had a capital voyage, and was so speedy in my movements that I was not surprised at finding La Luna not in port when I arrived. I waited patiently for a week during which time I hired a house and made preparations for their seeing all that was worth seeing in the country. At the end of that time your son's ship came into port, and she had not reported herself five minutes ere I was on board. He, with me, expressed great disappointment at the non-arrival of our party, and, from being rather fidgety before, I became doubly so at seeing his anxiety. Accordingly, we left orders and persons ready to receive them should they arrive by any means unknown to us; and I, at his request, accompanied him on his cruise up and down the coast, thinking, in my impatience, that I should hear of them sooner; and at all events, it was some employment, for, I frankly own, I could not have waited another week doing nothing, and suffering such anxiety.

"We were out a fortnight, and all we heard was that there had been a tremendous gale, for those vessels that were only in the tail of it suffered considerably. But, your son had no fear of La Luna riding it out, knowing what a good sea-boat she was; except, indeed, she had by some misfortune got into the circle of the storm, by which she would not only have the worst of it, but be violently exposed for many more days than otherwise. Our anxiety grew with the weeks, so at the end of the fortnight we put into Rio again, and consulted the best authorities. We all agreed on one subject, namely, that having good sea-room, which we calculated she must have had when the storm overtook her, she could not have foundered or been lost. We had then to think what else could have occurred, and in making up our minds to wait patiently another fortnight, we calculated that ladies do sometimes change their minds, and that they might have been seduced into landing on some of the numerous and lonely islands with which the Atlantic abounds.

"But, it was sorry work this waiting, I determined to make them pay dearly for breaking their promise, should it be the case, and for putting me into such a painful state."

"I can well believe it, Sir, I can well believe it," said the grey-headed Father. "Thank you, thank you for all your kind interest."

"Nay, Sir, thank me not. I own I have neither chick nor child, and so may not be expected to feel as much as a parent would do on such an occasion; but, Sir, I feel for my wards as tenderly as any Father can, I would rather a thousand ills occurred to me than that a hair of their heads should be injured." His strong voice faltered, "But, enough, I came here to tell my tale, and not to indulge in unavailing sorrow. Let it suffice to tell you I left not a port unexplored on the coast of America; I left not a stone unturned to learn their fate; I rested not day or night; your son had permission from the admiral to devote as much time to the same search, as his duties would permit. I mentally resolved I would not leave the spot until I heard something of them."

"How kind, how good you are," said the listeners.

"And I should have kept my promise, had it not been for a letter from Mr. M., who you know is co-trustee and joint guardian with me of your grandchildren. Of course the loss of such a party soon became known, in fact our anxiety, and all we did, and the sympathy we met with, and the help we obtained, would detain you much too long were I to tell you. But you will not be surprised to hear that the next heir to my wards' estates has intimated his knowledge that some dire misfortune has occurred to the three children on whom the property is entailed, your grandchildren. I, therefore, came home at once. I have consulted Mr. M., I have taken the ablest advice, and where could I have better than from him who is so interested in the matter, and so high in his profession?" Bowing to Gatty's Father. "Also I have seen the once-hasty heir, and settled his business, I have put everything into the hands of Mr. M. regarding the property, and in such training that nothing can be done for a year or two by the next heir, and now I am come down to see you, and take your orders and wishes, and to-morrow I sail for America to prosecute my search, and not leave it until I find them dead or alive."

"You are too kind, too good, one might expect such devotion in one of their relations, but not in one barely connected with them. We know not how to thank you."

With such speeches the whole party were proceeding, but Sir Walter interrupted them, saying, "Nay, nay, say no more, I am not acting so disinterestedly as you think, my conscience would not suffer me to rest easy did I not do my duty to the children of one of my oldest and dearest friends. At his dying request I undertook the charge, and only with life do I mean to relinquish my care over them. Besides, look round amongst all who are now mourning the loss of those I am about to seek; have they not ties of home, children, professions? I have none. I had but to guard the property of my wards, superintend their education, and prevent their mother spoiling them, and, by this sad event that business is over. It is my duty to seek for them; as a military man and acquainted with the world, I am fitted for adventure and all its consequences. I go with a cheerful heart and hopeful expectations. I have but one sorrow, and that is the mad permission I gave them to go without me." Thus saying, he arose and paced the room rapidly. Gatty's Father rose also, and, taking his hand, solemnly thanked him for what he was about to do as regarded the welfare of his lost child, continuing in this strain, "Your language and energy, Sir Walter, make me wish I could accompany you, but that you know is impossible, serving her Majesty in the capacity I do. But my heart and prayers go with you, and remember that as I cannot indulge my wish to join you in your search, you must command my purse. Ah my Gatty, my pretty darling, did your Father reckon your value by his purse, what worlds could contain the treasure I would give for thee? The merciful God preserve my dear child, and restore her to my arms." All were too much affected to speak for some little time, but the meal being announced as ready, they entered once more into conversation as they ate it.

Emily, the active winder, asked if they had escaped the tempest, what probable fate could have detained them so long? Sir Walter looked up, quickly laid down his knife and fork, and was about to say something, when he corrected himself, and said instead, "You shall know all I can learn when I get to America."

"But," said Charlotte, looking up from between her long curls, with great anxiety, "you do know more only you are afraid to tell us. Pray be kind to us, and tell us all you know." "Why should I tell you what would add to your sorrow, when there may be nothing but conjecture in the idea?" "Oh," said the eager Mother, "tell us all, we are so bewildered and lost in conjectures, that nothing you can tell us could add to the anxiety we are in. Moreover, I think I know what you mean. I have already hinted such a thing to my husband. Are you not afraid they have been captured by the pirates, whose depredations my son has been ordered to subdue?" "Just so, my dear Madam, it was the common opinion of every one, when I left Rio, that they had fallen into the hands of the gang of pirates now infesting those seas. This knowledge has added an additional spur to your son's exertions, though he did not want it, for the Admiral had been laughing at him, and calling his ship a 'Will o' the Wisp,' she seemed to be in every port every day. I can assure you, Sir," turning to the Father, "you may, amidst all your sorrow, congratulate yourself on having for a son one of the most promising officers in Her Majesty's service, and it is well known too." The dear beloved parents needed such a balm to their harassed minds. "But, can you," said Gatty's Father, "form any conjecture as to what would be their fate, say they were in the hands of the pirates?" "I took good care, Sir, before I left Rio, to offer very tempting ransoms, and to publish them in all quarters, and it is well known they are a very needy set, and that so much money will be too difficult for them to refuse. So I have every hope, and now I must be off."

Amidst the prayers, tears, blessings, and good wishes of the whole party he departed, leaving the loving Mother comfortable, the christian Father resigned, the sweet anxious sisters hopeful. But the weary months flew by; the distant parents came to talk over the fate of the lost ones; the letters from America grew brief and desponding; hope died totally away in the breasts of some; Sir Walter again visited England, and again returned to pursue his search; H.M.S. C—— was on the eve of being ordered home; some went into deep mourning, as if their nearest and dearest were but just dead; the over-hasty heir was beginning to threaten; the letters home ceased, as if it were better not to write at all than to write disappointment.

Had years gone by since that pretty drawing room had disclosed the affectionate family mourning their lost ones on Christmas-day? Had not Christmas come and gone, and yet they were still mourning? Time will show. It takes the sick couch, the dying words, the quivering breath, the last sigh, the solemn funeral pomp, to make death seem reality, to be assured we have lost "the light of our eyes," to be certain that one from amongst us has gone, and that we shall see his face no more.

Without all this, was it possible to feel that so large a gap was made in the family circle, such a rent was torn from the flourishing tree, and yet no sign was given to show how it was done?

Weep on, beloved mourners, weep on, but not for ever. Have we not a home, where no such ties can be severed, no such grief felt? This is but a passage to a better world; why should we grieve at what occurs to us herein, when we have the home of the blessed before us, the rest of the faithful awaiting us. In such words spake the pious, humble, consistent Father to his family, and they were comforted; and as months flew by, they whispered and talked of their lost ones, as if they were already denizens of the bright world beyond the tomb, and peace was restored to the family.



CHAPTER XXIV.

It fortunately happened that we had so much to do we could not weep all day; moreover, Jenny, who was very methodical, thought if we went on crying all the evening, how was she to get the tea ready. Accordingly, with some hesitation, having shewn her face several times before, she ventured to enquire if she might take away the remains of our feast. On this we all roused up, and bestirred ourselves; the girls helped to wash up; the little ones ran out to amuse themselves; I swept the floor, while Schillie put the room tidy; Madame having gone to lay down to cure her sad headache. We then all went down to the sea to bathe and enjoy the cool breeze, and at night we went to bed sorrowful but thankful for the many mercies above, around, about us.

On the morrow, lessons were to begin seriously, and some seemed to think it almost a hanging matter, so doleful did they look. They were to have that part of the room nearest the door, as being lighter and more airy. The maids had the rest of the room for laying the meals, while Schillie and I had to dispose of ourselves any way we could, so it was out of the way.

We had a long conversation on this particular morning, which I began by saying, "We must now begin to think of making discoveries, and storing food against the rainy weather."

Schillie.—"Good woman, how fidgety you are. I do think you might allow me a little rest after building that horrid house and labouring so hard."

Mother.—"But we shall look so silly if we have nothing to eat, and it is impossible to get out during the wet weather."

Schillie.—"That's granted, I cannot abide wet weather."

Mother.—"Then making discoveries is your principal delight; and you may combine amusement and use together."

Schillie.—"A thing I abominate. I hate joining two things, and I cannot be amused when all the time I am thinking I am so useful."

Mother.—"Then sit down here, while I go and perpetrate this horrid crime!"

Schillie.—"Now, June, you are going too far, as if I would suffer you to stir a yard without me; you will be tumbling over some precipice, get eaten up by a huge turtle, or light on another great snake. Now, come along, what's the first discovery we are to make?"

Mother.—"That's more than I can settle, because I am quite in the dark at present about what we require. But, if you must have a decided answer, pray discover some shoes and boots."

Schillie.—"Now you must talk common sense if you mean me to help you. I heard that little demure Jenny, who thinks of nothing but the children, coming to you this morning with a complaint about the number of holes in her darling's only pair of shoes."

Mother.—"Oh but she brought in her apron the whole establishment of young boots and shoes, that I might see the dilapidated condition in which they were."

Schillie.—"And what did you say to that?"

Mother.—"I looked at her gravely and said, 'Then Jenny, order the carriage, and tell Goode I shall go to H—— this evening to buy boots and shoes for the young ones.' I was sorry after I had indulged in this joke, for first of all she looked perplexed, then she looked sorrowful, and finally she bundled up her miserable cargo, and fled in a burst of tears."

Schillie.—"Then she is a greater goose than I imagined. She would have been more sensible had she devised some means of repairing them, without bothering you."

Mother.—"But they are past repair."

Schillie.—"Then she might have tried to concoct new ones."

Mother.—"Perhaps she does not like combining amusement and business together."

Schillie.—"Now, June, you are too bad, and to punish you I'll not help you a bit with your boots and shoes."

Mother.—"Suppose we take to going without any."

Schillie.—"Yes, and get bitten to death with these horrid scorpions, or, look here, see how pleasant to put one's naked foot on these black ants."

Mother.—"Then it seems clear we must have boots and shoes."

Schillie.—"Of course, who doubted it?"

Mother.—"Then let us go and discover something that will somehow do for them."

Schillie.—"You always come round me in such a manner, that I begin to think if you told me to do so I should be creeping out of my skin some day."

Mother.—"Pray don't disturb yourself with that idea, as I rather want to clothe you than disrobe you. For our next discovery must be something of which to make dresses."

Schillie.—"Are you gone mad; who wants dresses, have we not enough to last us for a year at least?"

Mother.—"Yes, that I know, but I want to make the discovery, and get expert in the business before our own clothes are quite gone. It will be so awkward to have no clothes at all."

Schillie.—"Very much so."

Mother.—"Now do you know I have already had a great idea that this is the palm tree, out of which they make sago. Here you see are the young ones, small prickly shrubs, and here they are growing up into trees, and this one that I first pointed out is covered with a whitish dust, which I have read is an indication that the sago is ready to be taken."

Schillie.—"You seem very learned on the subject, but are you going to make boots and shoes out of sago?"

Mother (laughing).—"No, no, I don't want to confine my discoveries only to boots and shoes, I am for discovering everything, and I meant to have told you of this discovery before, for I conjectured it when you used to make me lie down to rest in this spot while you did my work."

Schillie.—"And very lucky it is that you have some one with an ounce of sense near you to make you rest. You don't work race horses like carters, but a Suffolk Punch is made for use, and all the better for it."

Mother.—"You don't compliment yourself, Mrs. Suffolk Punch, though I agree you do the work of the animal you liken yourself to. But I beg you won't compare me to anything so useless as a racer, who is only required for a few days hard labour, and then may die, having fulfilled the purpose of filling the owner's pockets."

Schillie.—"You know nothing about the matter. You don't suppose that horses are bred so highly merely for running races. It is to improve the breed of horses, and you may go to the moon and never——"

Mother.—"Look, look, what a lovely tree!"

Schillie.—"So it is. Let us sit down, while I fish out my book, and discover what it is. Now then for characteristics. Why here is a picture of it. What a nice book this is. It's a nutmeg tree. Then it may go to the dogs, for I hate nutmegs."

Mother.—"I don't like them either, but I have heard they are very good preserved, and, besides, some of the others may like them, so let us see if any are ripe. No! none at all, so it's lucky we are indifferent about nutmegs at present."