Chapter IX. A HOME FOR THE HOMELESS.
O bright occasions of dispensing good,
How seldom used, how little understood!
Cowper.
The scene of life, not long after this, closed
on Mr. Norton, and he was respectfully committed
to the grave by those who regarded him as more
sinned against, than sinning. Perhaps he was
viewed in a different light by Mr. Barclay, whose
-- 087 --
[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]
estimate of a parent's power and responsibilities
was different from, and much higher than most
men's.
Mr. Barclay found John Norton's concerns, on
investigation, not quite so bad as he feared. After
settling the business and cancelling the endorsements
of “Norton and Co.,” the property
vested in his printing-presses and that in the farm
at Greenbrook remained. The press was a
means of future accumulation, and the farm a
polar star where he might still rest the eye of
hope. It certainly was a severe disappointment
to have the accumulations of years of vigorous
labor swept away from him by the profligacy of
others, — to have his dearest plans thwarted at the
moment of their accomplishment; but he bore
the evil patiently, as became a Christian who was
forearmed against the uncertainties of life. “We
must now,” he said at the conclusion of a long
conversation on their affairs with his wife, “we
must now show our children, what we have often
told them, that it is not the circumstances of life
that make our happiness or virtue, but the temper
in which we meet them.”
The children were made acquainted with the
unfortunate turn in their affairs, and the necessity
of the indefinite postponement of their removal
to Greenbrook. This they all took to
heart; but no event can make children long unhappy.
Some ten days after old Mr. Norton's interment,
the Barclays were assembled round a
well-lighted table. Mrs. Barclay, with a large
work-basket before her, was putting in that stich
-- 088 --
[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]
in time which absorbs so large a portion of the life of
the mother of half a dozen children. Charles and
Wallace were seated on each side of her, drawing,
acquiring at a leisure hour some knowledge of an
art for which a man in almost every pursuit has
some occasion. Alice was basting hems and ruling
copy-books for the little girls' next day's work.
Mary was dressing a doll for her youngest sister,
Grandmama knitting in the corner, and Aunt
Betsey making a very pretty dress for her pet; and
finally Mr. Barclay was reading aloud the Life of
Franklin, and making now and then such remarks
as would tend to impress its valuable instruction
on his children. He was interrupted
by an involuntary exclamation from Alice of “O
dear me!”
“What is the matter, Alice?”
“Nothing, only I can never make these red
lines straight, in my arithmetic book. I wish
Harry Norton was here, he does them so neatly.”
“I wish he was here too,” echoed Mary; “this
doll's arm torments me so, — I cannot make it
stay on.”
“I was just thinking,” said Wallace, “I would
give any thing to have him come in, to show me
how to stump this foreground.”
“O, that 's easy enough, Wallace,” said Charles;
“but I never can do these arches without his
help; I wonder he does not come.”
“He cannot come, Charles, and leave Emily
alone.”
“Why cannot Emily come too?”
“Dear me! I am sure nobody wants her,” said
Mary.
-- 089 --
[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]
“And why not? I wonder.”
“Because she is so hateful.”
“Mary, my dear child! — that's a hard word
for you. Come here, and tell me what makes
poor Emily so hateful.”
“Because, sir, she is.”
“Mary dear,” said Grandmama, “your Bible
tells you not to bring a `railing accusation.”'
Grandmama's gentle admonitions were seldom
disregarded by the children. Mary looked crest-fallen,
when Aunt Betsey came to her aid.
“Mary is quite right,” she said; “Emily Norton
is the most disagreeable little upstart that
ever I came across.”
“But how is she disagreeable? Come, Mary,
let us know. I suspect there is some prejudice
in the case. It is very important to poor little
Emily that you should have no prejudices against
her.”
“I don't think they are prejudices,” murmured
Alice in an under voice.
“I know they are!” exclaimed Wallace.
“I think they are too,” said Charles.
“O yes, boys, you think, because Miss Emily
has such beautiful hair, and eyes, and so forth,
that she must be good.”
“No, Alice,” replied Charles, “it is not that;
but I cannot believe that Harry Norton's own
sister can be such a horrid creature.”
“Dear me, Charles! I did not say she was a
horrid creature, but I do say she is as different
from Harry as night from day.”
-- 090 --
[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]
“My dear Alice, you speak very confidently,
considering how little you know of Emily.”
“Ah, father, that is the very thing. Miss
Emily don't choose to know us. The first day
we went to Smith's drawing-school, Sarah Scott
asked her if she knew us. She said she knew
our names. Sarah said something about our looking
ladylike; Miss Emily drew up her little scornful
mouth, — you need not smile, father, for those
were Sarah's very words, — and said we might
look so, but we were not so, for `sister said' nobody
visited mother, — only think what a falsehood,
sir, — and she advised Sarah not to get
acquainted with us, for she said `sister did not
want her to.' Now, sir, do you think it is all
prejudice?”
“Not all, my dear; but if we examine the
matter, we may find that a part of it is. In the
first place, I suspect the scornful mouth was an
addition of Sarah Scott's; that young lady has a
very lively imagination; and a sweeter tempered
mouth than Emily's, one farther removed from an
expression of scorn, I never saw.”
“So it is, sir, commonly, but you don't know
how girls can twist and spoil their mouths when
there are no grown people by. Besides, if Sarah
did add that about the mouth, and I own she is
apt to add and alter when she tells a story, I am
sure she did not make the rest; for whenever
Emily meets Mary and me in Broadway, her eyes
are suddenly staring every way; whatever else
she sees, she never sees us.”
“And,” added Mary, “she is always dressed
-- 091 --
[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]
just like a grown up lady. — O! she does look
too proud!”
Mr. Barclay waited a moment as if expecting
something more, and then asked, “Is this all, my
children?”
“All in particular, sir,” replied Alice.
“I am sure it is quite enough!” said Aunt
Betsey.
“Alice,” said her father, “sit down on my
knee, — here is another for you, Mary. Now
let us see if we cannot find some apology for
Emily.”
“She will not care whether we do or not.”
“O! my children, poor Emily has too much
reason to care for your good opinion now.”
“Why sir, now? don't she go and live with
Mrs. John Norton?”
“No. Poor Emily has no home now.”
“No home, father!”
The thought touched all their young kind hearts,
and Emily was at once placed in a new aspect.
Mr. Barclay took advantage of the favorable moment
to proceed. “What do you suppose, Alice,
Mrs. Norton meant by telling Emily that nobody
visited your mother?”
“I suppose she meant what she said, sir.”
“Not at all, my dear. She meant that none
of her visiting acquaintance visited us. — Mrs.
Norton calls all the people out of her circle nobody.”
“What a silly woman!”
“Very silly, my dear; and I am sure if you
reflect on it, you will very soon think with me,
-- 092 --
[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]
that Emily was more to be pitied than blamed
for the notions she got from this woman, into
whose hands she fell when she was so very young.
Her father, you all know, was not the wisest man
in the world. She had no mother. Harry was
too young to guide her. Mrs. John Norton flattered
her vanity, removed her entirely from her
early associates, indulged her in every idle wish,
and would have probably ruined the poor child,
had it not pleased Providence to remove her from
her influence. Mrs. Norton has gone back to her
uncle's, to live again in idle dependence upon
him, and has shown how little real affection she
had for Emily; for she has given herself no concern
as to what is to become of her, though she
knows she has not a penny, nor a relation to take
care of her.”
The children looked sad and pitiful.
“She is young enough, I believe,” continued
Mr. Barclay, “to be admitted either into the orphan's
asylum or the alms-house.”
“Both very good places for her,” said Aunt
Betsey.
“Aunt Betsey!” exclaimed Charles; “Emily
Norton go to the alms-house!”
“Harry's sister go to the alms-house, — awful!”
cried Alice. “Do, father, let her come and live
with us.”
“Alice, are you beside yourself?” asked Aunt
Betsey. “After your father has been all but
ruined by old Norton, to think of his taking upon
himself the support of Emily!”
Mr. Barclay went on, without directly
-- 093 --
[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]
answering either Alice or her aunt. “I have seen a
great deal of little Emily since her father's death,
and do not believe it will be difficult to give her
right notions. Poor child, her heart is melted,
and takes any impression you please to put upon
it. She is any thing but proud now, Mary; and
the fine clothes that offended you so much, are
all gone.”
“Gone, father?”
“Yes. I told her the greatest honor that
children in their case could do to a father's memory,
was, as far as possible, to pay his debts;
and I told her what exertions and sacrifices Harry
had made. She immediately went up stairs, and
packed up all her finery, — her little trinkets,
and every ornamental thing she had in the world,
and begged me to have them sold to pay the
chambermaid, who had complained bitterly of the
loss of the wages due to her.”
“Did she, father?” said Mary; “her watch,
her gold chain, and her real enamel buckle?”
“Yes, my dear, those, and every article but
her necessary clothes.”
“I always thought,” said Wallace, “that Emily
had something noble in her.”
“I felt sure of it,” said Charles.
“Most persons, my dear boys, have something
noble in them, if you but touch the right spring
to set it in motion. I think poor little Emily has
fine qualities, but her character will depend much
on the circumstances in which she is placed, for
she is easily influenced.”
“I like persons who are easily influenced,”
said Wallace, as if thinking aloud. This was
-- 094 --
[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]
true, and a common disposition enough it is, with
those who are strong willed, and who seem born,
like our friend Wallace, to influence others.
“I called in on Harry and Emily as I came
home to tea,” continued Mr. Barclay. “Their
house is in complete order for the auction which
is to take place to-morrow. Harry has worked
like a beaver, and with the help of one man and
one woman and little Emily, who has done all
she could, every thing is ready.”
“O dear!” said Alice, heaving a deep sigh,
“how sadly they must feel.”
“No, Alice, they do not, and they ought not.
It is family love and happy domestic intercourse
that attaches us to the inanimate objects of our
home. This table around which we have so
many pleasant gatherings, — the sofa, — Grandmama's
rocking-chair, — the baby's cradle, are
all so many signs, which, as often as you look
upon them, call forth delightful feelings. No
books or maps will ever look to you like those
we have read and studied together. But suppose
our parlour emptied of all it now contains, and
costly furniture put in it, such as would make us
appear genteel in other people's eyes; suppose
we never entered it but to receive morning calls,
or evening company; our vanity might be gratified,
but do you think the furniture would excite
any sensations worthy of the name of happiness?”
“No, sir, — no,” was the general verdict.
“The case I have supposed is just that of
Harry and Emily, — the family moved into a new
house when John Norton was married, — all the
-- 095 --
[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]
old furniture was sent to auction, and new was
bought. Harry has passed most of his evenings
with us, and poor little Emily, when they had
not company at home, has been left alone with
her father, who did not know how to amuse or
instruct her, or with the servants, who were very
unfit companions, for Mrs. John Norton was
never nice in the selection of her servants, and
was continually changing them. This evening,
I found Harry and Emily in the little breakfast-room.
There was a light on the table, and a
book from which Harry had been reading to his
sister; but they had drawn near the fire. They
were sitting on the same chair. Emily's arm was
round his neck, and she was listening to what he
was saying with such a tender, confiding look —”
“I wonder what he was saying, father,” said
Alice.
“Something of their separation, I believe, my
dear.”
“But why need they be separated, father? —
why can't they both come and live with us?”
It had been a settled matter, from the moment
of Mr. Norton's death, that Harry was to come
into the family.
“Are you crazy, Alice?” asked Aunt Betsey.
“I am sure I don't think Alice crazy at all,”
said Mary. “There are two beds in our room,
and Haddy sleeps with Alice, and I should like
of all things to have Emily sleep with me.”
“And it is exceedingly important,” said Wallace,
as wise as Socrates on the occasion, “that
Emily should live in a good place, because, father
-- 096 --
[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]
says, her character depends so much on circumstances.”
“And where can she go, if she don't come
here?” asked the tender-hearted Charles.
The children had arrived at the very point
Mr. Barclay desired.
“Your right dispositions, my dear children,”
he said, “gratify me; but you must remember that
it is on your mother that the burden of an increased
family must chiefly fall. Consult her. If she is
willing to extend the blessing of a home to both
these orphan children, at the cost, as must needs
be, of much labor and self-denial to herself, she
will set us an example of disinterestedness and
benevolence that we will try to follow.”
The children now all clustered round their
mother. To Mrs. Barclay, sound in health,
serene in temper, and of most benignant disposition,
no exertion for others seemed difficult; and
with one of her sweetest smiles she said, that, as
far as she was concerned, she should be most
happy that Harry and Emily should not be separated.
The children clapped their hands, and
returned to their father, shouting, “It's all settled.”
“Not quite so fast; there is something yet to
be considered. You all know that we allow
ourselves a fixed sum for our annual expenses.
If we indulge in the luxury of doing this kindness
to Emily, we must all give up something. You
and Mary, Alice, must give up the dancing-school
that has been running in your heads for the last
six weeks, and Charles and Wallace cannot have
a drawing-master.”
-- 097 --
[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]
This suggestion seemed for a moment to abate
the zeal of the young folks; but Alice, who was
always the first to clear away obstructions, said,
after a little reflection, “O! well, never mind the
dancing-school. I have thought of a nice plan, —
Emily is Mr. Chanaud's best scholar, — she can
give us lessons in the garret. It is a good place
for dancing, and we shall not disturb Grandmama
there.”
“And as to the drawing, sir,” said Charles,
“with a little of Harry's help we can teach ourselves;
and when we have such a good motive for
it, we shall take twice as much pains as if we had
a master.”
“Well, my good children, we will all take it
into consideration, and if we are of the same
mind to-morrow night, Emily shall come to us
with Harry.”
This conversation, had not, as may well be
supposed, occurred without much consultation
between Mr. and Mrs. Barclay. They thought
they could not do a more certain good, than by
extending the advantages of their home to the
young Nortons. They hoped this might be an
acceptable expression of their gratitude to Providence
for their domestic blessings. They knew
their children had some prepossessions against
Emily, and Mr. Barclay had undertaken to turn
the current of their feelings in her favor. In this
he had so far succeeded, that her entrance into
the family was a favor accorded to them; and
thus, instead of coming among them an object of
their prejudice and distrust, they henceforth
-- 098 --
[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]
considered themselves as Emily's champions and protectors.
Each one was anxious to shelter her
infirmities, to set her in a favorable light, and to
make her new home as happy as possible.
When all the family had retired excepting
Mrs. Barclay and her sister, Aunt Betsey jerked
round her chair, put her feet on the fender, and
gave vent to her pent-up feelings. By the way,
it should be said in Aunt Betsey's favor, that
fretting was her safety-valve; she thus let off her
petty irritations, and in conduct she was not less
humane than most persons.
“You are the oddest people,” she began, “that
ever I came across; with seven children, and the
Lord knows how many more you may have, the
old lady and myself, and only Martha for help, to
undertake these two children that have no claim
on earth upon you. Claim! the children of your
greatest enemy, the man that has all but ruined
you, and in such an underhand way too, — a
pretty reward for knavery! I hope you mean to
put up a sign, William Barclay & Co.'s orphan
asylum, or alms-house!”
Mrs. Barclay was too much accustomed to her
sister's railing to be disturbed by it.
“If it were more the practice, Betsey,” she
mildly replied, “for those who have homes to extend
the blessing to those who have them not,
there would be little occasion for orphan asylums,
and the charity now done by the public, would
be more effectively done in private families.”
“I see no advantage whatever in turning private
houses into alms-houses and such sort of
-- 099 --
[figure description] Page 099.[end figure description]
places. I always thought home was a sacred
place, from which it was a duty to shut out every
thing disagreeable and unpleasant.”
Fortunately Aunt Betsey's self-love prevented
her perceiving how hard this rule would bear upon
herself. Her brother-in-law had given her a
home, simply because her temper was so uncomfortable,
that no other member of her family was
willing to receive her, — none other could have
borne and forborne with her, — none other would
have made allowances for the trials of her single
and solitary condition, and, by always opposing a
smooth surface to her sharp corners, have gradually
worn them down.
“It is a duty, as you say, Betsey,” replied her
sister, “to exclude every thing permanently disagreeable
from the family; for home should resemble
heaven in happiness as well as love. But
we cannot exclude from our earthly homes the
infirmities of humanity. There are few persons,
no young persons, who, if they are treated wisely
and tenderly, will not be found to have more
good than evil in them. In the Nortons, I am
sure, the good greatly preponderates. Our children,
we think, will be benefited by having new
excitements to kindness, generosity, and forbearance.”
“Well, if your children must have these excitements,
as you call them, why under the sun
don't you find some folks to take in, besides the
children of the man that 's robbed you of all
you 've been toiling for and saving, for this dozen
years and more?”
-- 100 --
[figure description] Page 100.[end figure description]
“O, Betsey, it does seem to me that, seeing,
you see not. I don't mean to hurt you, — but how
can you help feeling Mr. Barclay's nobleness, his
truly Christian spirit in this matter? how he has
returned good for evil, and overcome evil with
good!” Aunt Betsey said nothing, and Mrs. Barclay
proceeded, “Our children, I am sure, cannot
but profit by such an example.”
“But they don't need it. You are both of you
always teaching them.”
“`Example is better than precept,' Betsey.”
“Well, let that rest. But I should like to
know how you can afford to set such examples?”
“As to that, the way is clear enough. Harry's
earnings will pay his board and all his other expenses.
He will only be indebted to us, for what,
he says, he esteems above all other things, a
home in our house.”
“But little Miss Emily cannot be boarded,
clothed, and schooled for nothing.”
“Certainly not; but the expense of feeding a
little girl in a family where there are three abundant
meals a day is really trifling. The cost of
Alice's clothes has never exceeded thirty dollars a
year; Emily's will not cost more.”
“No, to be sure. You will not have to buy
new for her. She is so much more slender than
Alice, that I can easily manage to make Alice's
old frocks over for her.”
“Thank you, Betsey; but I would rather Alice
should take her's. A person in the situation
Emily will hold, should never be degraded in the
eyes of others, or her own, by any such sign of
-- 101 --
[figure description] Page 101.[end figure description]
dependence or inferiority. That is a very poor
kindness done to the body, which results in injury
to the mind.”
Aunt Betsey was reduced to biting her nails,
and her sister proceeded. “Emily's schooling,
it is true, will be expensive. Pity it is, that it is
so, in a country, where, of all others, good teaching
should be cheap and easily attained; but it is
not so, at least in this city. However, Mr. Barclay
is quite willing to meet the expense, whatever
it may be.”
“Oh, I dare say, — `Education the best investment
of capital,' — you know he is always
harping on that; but when you have precious
little to invest, it is worth while to consider. —
That 's all I have to say.”
“We have considered, Betsey. Mr. Barclay,
whose noble nature it is, as you know, to impart
of his abundance to others, — freely to give what
he so freely receives, — says that his business
was never more productive than at this moment.
We cannot therefore go on fretting over our losses.
We shall continue to live frugally, and to
educate our girls and Emily to earn their own
living, should it be necessary. Harry's highest
ambition for Emily is, that she should be qualified
for a teacher. He will himself be a great
assistance to her.”
“That he will. He is not like other boys, —
Harry is not.”
“I shall endeavour,” continued Mrs. Barclay,
“in my domestic school, to qualify Emily for the
offices of wife and mother. These in all human
-- 102 --
[figure description] Page 102.[end figure description]
probability she will fill, — she may never be a
teacher. You will help us, Betsey, and we will
not give grudgingly. If her faults trouble us,
let us remember how sadly the poor child has
been neglected. All children, the best of them,
require patience.”
“Patience! — yes, the patience of Job.”
“Emily may prove better and more agreeable
than we expect, and we may be thankful to Providence
for enabling us to take the homeless
young creatures into the family.”
Aunt Betsey was softened by being put in the
light of a participator in the boon to Emily, and,
as she took up her lamp to go to bed, she said in
a tone of real kindness — “I 'll try to do my
part.”
Ah, if all the individuals of the human family
would “do their part,” there would be no wanderers,
no outcasts. The chain of mutual dependence
would be preserved unbroken, strong,
and bright. All would be linked together in the
bonds of natural affection and Christian love, —
the bonds of unity and peace.
-- 103 -- p343-115
Sedgwick, Catharine Maria, 1789-1867 [1835], Home (James Munroe and Company, Boston) [word count] [eaf343].
