Hesper, the Home-Spirit

“Dear me, aunty,” exclaimed Hesper, as she rose up to depart, “I am afraid I have quite spoiled one of your beautiful herbs, for I have trampled directly over it, and should not have thought it anything more than grass, had it not been for its strong and pleasant fragrance.”

“O, there is no harm done,” said Aunt Nyna, “it is only my camomile root, which is not easily hurt, for, like a good Christian, the more it is trampled upon, the greater is the fragrance and the better it grows.”

“Why, what a good-natured thing!” said Hesper, laughing. “I must carry some of the leaves home with me to put under my pillow. Then I may dream of it, and perhaps grow just like it.”

As they passed along through the garden, aunt Nyna gathered some fine, ripe peaches, and gave them to Hesper for her mother. “How is thy mother to-night?” she asked.

“O, she doesn’t seem to get any better, and sometimes I think,” continued the girl sorrowfully, “that she never will.”

“Aye, well, it isn’t best to be discouraged,” said aunt Nyna, cheerfully, though at the same time she felt that the poor girl had great reason to be so.

The fact was, that Hesper’s mother had been ill for a long time, and during the last six months, had been confined entirely to her bed. Hesper was only fifteen years of age, and quite small at that, but being the only daughter in a large and poor family, she had been obliged to think and care for others early. Until the past year she had attended school, and learned very fast, but now, the sickness of her mother made it necessary for her to remain at home. Her loving heart and cheerful disposition made her as quick to learn in one place as another, and she soon became quite an accomplished little house-keeper. All the neighbors wondered at her readiness and ability, and her aunt Betsey, who was very particular and hard to please, declared that Hesper would make a real nice woman, if she lived long enough.

“I sometimes think,” said Hesper, “that mother might get better if she didn’t worry so much about poor little Johnny; but she lies there in bed, and watches him as he eats his bread and milk in the chimney corner, or sits with his playthings on the floor, and she sighs often, as she says – ’Poor child! what would become of you if I should be taken away!’ O, it makes my heart ache, and I feel as though I should cry.”

“It is sad, very sad,” said aunt Nyna.

“Mother says,” continued Hesper, “that for many years she kept thinking he would come out bright at last, but there’s no use hoping for that any longer. Although he is ten years old now, yet he cannot speak a single word, and is just as much pleased with his little playthings, as when he was an infant. Poor Johnny,” she added, thoughtfully, “he is a simple child, but I know he loves me, and if mother should die, I would sooner beg from door to door, than see him suffer.”

As they were talking together, they passed out through the garden gate, and continued down the lane, till they came to the bridge over the brook. Here with many a word of affection and encouragement, they parted. Aunt Nyna returned to her cottage, and Hesper scampered up the winding road by the old wind-mill, in the direction of her home.

CHAPTER III.

HESPER AND HER FATHER

Mr. Greyson, the father of Hesper, sat in his high-backed chair, looking pale and very much distressed. His foot rested upon a pillow in the chair before him, and he groaned as if in great pain. The fire had gone out on the hearth, and the only light in the room was from a tall candle which flickered and flared, making great dancing shadows on the wall, and gleaming fitfully across the face of the sick woman who lay upon the bed. Simple Johnny, the poor child of whom we have spoken, sat in the chimney corner, sobbing and crying as though his heart would break.

“Hush, hush!” said his father impatiently; but the poor child vainly strove to suppress his grief. It was but for a moment, and then it burst forth afresh. One could not wonder much, however, when the cause was known. The little porringer of bread and milk which Hesper had given him just before she went out, by an unlucky slip was overturned upon the hearth, and Fido – a little black dog, with drooping ears and white feet – was lapping it up in greedy haste. This was indeed a serious misfortune. The supper of the children usually consisted of bread and milk, and as it was portioned out in equal shares, therefore what was lost could not be easily replaced. His supper, moreover, was one of the great events in this poor child’s daily experience. His porringer of bread and milk, his wooden horse and tin soldiers, with now and then a run in the fields to gather flowers, made up his whole round of enjoyment. The loss of a richly freighted ship could not have more seriously affected a prosperous merchant, than did that overturned porringer of bread and milk to this poor, simple child.

“Do hush, Johnny dear!” said his mother in a gentle tone, when she saw how much it worried her husband. But the child could not be pacified.

“Strange!” said his father impatiently, “that he couldn’t have been taught to mind better. If he had been constantly under my eye for ten years, it would have been different.” His wife sighed heavily as she sank down again upon her pillow, but made no reply. Just then, in came Hesper, all out of breath with running.

“Well,” said her father, “I hope you have stayed long enough. I wonder if you ever think of anybody but yourself when you are away.”

Hesper did not reply. Her father did not like to be answered when he was impatient, and he was uncommonly so to-night.

“I have a nice parcel of leaves,” she said pleasantly, as she unrolled her apron and displayed them.

“Well, well,” he replied, “put them down, and stop that child’s crying as soon as possible, or send him to bed.”

To Johnny, his father’s last words, which he perfectly understood, were a most unwelcome sound, and he cried louder than ever.

“Poor fellow!” said Hesper, as she discovered the cause of his grief – “no wonder he cries. He has lost nearly all of his supper. How luckily things do happen sometimes,” she thought to herself. “Here I have been so busy that I had quite forgotten my own supper; now Johnny shall share it, and right welcome.” She poured the greater part of the milk out of her own bowl into the porringer, and as she gave it into his hand the glad smile which lit up the troubled countenance of the poor child, and shone through his tears, was worth more to her than victuals and drink. The next thing she did was to kindle a fire and prepare the salve. When it was ready she spread it upon a nice linen cloth, and laid it on the hearth, while she unbound her father’s foot, for it had been bathed and wrapped up nicely, before. Her little sympathising heart was full of compassion for him the moment she beheld it. No wonder he groaned and was so impatient!

“May be,” thought Hesper, “I should make a much more noisy complaint if it were myself.” She handled it very carefully, but her father worried and fretted so, that her hands trembled violently, and she was afraid that she was hurting far more than helping him.

“There,” said he, when she had finished, “I’m glad you are done. I don’t believe it will do one bit of good.”

Hesper was quite disheartened, but she said nothing. She moved the little pine table up to the fire, placed the candle upon it, and sat down to her work. She was making a shirt, of stout, coarse cloth, for Mose. It was the first time she had ever attempted to make one, and she was doing it now by her mother’s direction. It was nearly finished, and her fingers flew very fast, for she thought that when her aunt Betsey came in next morning – as no doubt she would – she would show it to her, and tell her she had made it all herself. She was not afraid to do so, for she knew that she had taken pains enough to please even aunt Betsey.

Mr. Greyson sat very still, with his head laid back in his chair, and his eyes almost closed. Hesper supposed he was asleep, but he was not. He was watching her and thinking very earnestly about her. So much had his mind been occupied by work and family cares of late, that he had scarce bestowed a thought upon her. Now, when he saw how small she was, and then remembered how much she did every day, he wondered that it was possible. Then, too, she looked so cheerful and good-natured, with her hair parted so smoothly on her forehead, and her face bent down to her work, all glowing with pleasant thoughts. His heart was drawn towards her, and he began to be sorry for the impatient words he had spoken. Then he observed, also, her little, short, faded frock, and he wondered how long she had worn, and where she had obtained it. Certainly he had not bought her a dress for more than a year, and where she had obtained that one was a mystery. He did not know that she had often sat up late at night to patch and mend it, and that when, at last, the waist and sleeves had given out entirely, she was obliged to put on her little brown sack and wear it constantly, to cover all deficiencies. His own trials had seemed so great that he had little sympathy to spare for his children. This poor girl, therefore, had been obliged to bear her own little cross of self-denial in silence, while the saddening influences of her father’s gloomy disposition, cast a continual shadow across her sunshine.

She had not the slightest idea at present, however, that he was observing her; for while her fingers flew so swiftly, her mind was busy with plans for the future. At precisely half-past nine the shirt was completed, and as she held it up, she viewed it with the greatest satisfaction. Had it been the most exquisite piece of embroidery, it could not have afforded her a more heartfelt pleasure. She folded it up neatly, and then turned her attention to Johnny. The happy little fellow had eaten every drop of his bread and milk, and then fallen asleep. His head rested wearily against the wall, and just then there was such a beautiful and peaceful expression to his countenance, that Hesper felt unwilling to disturb him.

“May be,” she thought, “he is dreaming of the angels, and what a pity it will be for me to bring him back from their blessed company.” She lightly raised the golden ringlets from his round, fair cheeks, and regarded him with a look of intense interest. To this thoughtful girl there had always been an unfathomable mystery in the silence which brooded over the soul of her unfortunate brother. She felt, without understanding, that there was something, away down in the depths of his being, quietly waiting its own due time for utterance, and until that time came, he must remain a simple, inexperienced child. At times, a strange feeling of wonder and religious awe would come over her, as she regarded him, for an almost angelic expression would sweep across his countenance, and in his large, blue eyes, there would be such a deep and tender light, that it almost made her weep. She looked upon him as something holy, and in return, the child attached himself to her with an affection which knew no change or diminution. To-night he had sat up unusually late for him, and now his slumber was so deep and quiet, that she found it very difficult to arouse him. He did not resist her, however, as she raised him up tenderly and undressed him; for he was so heavy with sleep he could scarce stand, and really did not know when Hesper tucked up his bed and gave him a good-night kiss. The poor girl herself was very tired, but she had one more duty to perform, which to her was always pleasant. She drew up the little table, and taking a book from the drawer, seated herself upon the side of her mother’s bed.

“Read quite low,” said her mother, “so as not to disturb your father.” They both thought he was asleep, but he heard every word they said. Hesper read on very slowly and thoughtfully, till she came to the words, “Charity never faileth.” Aunt Nyna had spoken to her of this particular chapter while they were together in the garden, and therefore she had selected it. “Mother,” she said, as she laid down the book, “I think love does fail, sometimes, for I have tried very hard to love and please father, but he never likes anything that I do.” Her mother sighed deeply, and the tears came into her eyes, as she looked up in the face of the good child.

“It don’t mean that, Hesper. Love often fails in what it attempts. But it does mean, that under all difficulties or discouragements, true love never fails or grows weary, but remains the same forever and ever. It is just like God himself.”

“Then,” said Hesper, as she glanced towards her father, “I will not mind it much if he doesn’t love me, for it will make me very happy if in one little thing I can be like God.”

“Your father wasn’t always so, Hesper,” said her mother, as the tears streamed down her pale cheeks. She turned her face over into her pillow, and while Hesper was finishing the chapter, she thought of the first years of their wedded life. Then her husband was strong and healthy, and they had a little cottage of their own, with holly-hocks blooming by the door, and roses at the window. Next came long years of suffering and sorrow, when both were broken down in health and spirits, and they had not bread enough to fill the little hungry mouths that cried out for it. No wonder he became gloomy and sad, and said at times that his children would be better off in their graves. It was no uncommon thing. Thousands of poor men had felt just so before him. Only the brave heart of a Christian can bear poverty cheerfully.

Hesper had finished reading some time, and sat waiting for her mother to speak, but as she did not, she supposed she was asleep. “Good night, mother,” she whispered, for it was a comfort to the tender-hearted child to speak the words, even though they were not heard. Her mother raised her head.

“Good night,” she replied, and putting her arms about Hesper’s neck, she kissed her.

Mr. Greyson turned away his face quickly, for he was heart-stricken at what he had heard, and he could not bear to see their mutual love. The next moment Hesper passed him on her way to her chamber, and he longed to call her back and speak kindly, but something, he knew not what, restrained him.

It was not till the poor girl sank down upon her pillow, that she was conscious of being very weary. Her head ached with thinking, and her limbs with long continued action; but it was a sweet consolation to know that she had done all her duty. The moon shone in at the little window near the foot of her bed, and as she looked out, she could see the top of “Cottage Hill” covered with neat white houses and finely cultivated gardens. Beyond this was the “Rolling Mill,” where her father and Mose worked. The noise of the machinery could be heard at a great distance, and day and night the red flames were pouring constantly from the tops of the tall chimnies. As Hesper was watching this, a thought came to her suddenly. “Why!” she exclaimed, as she started to her feet in an instant – “Poor Mose hasn’t had a morsel of supper!” In a few moments she was dressed and went softly down stairs. Her father still sat in his great chair with his eyes closed, but even then he was not asleep. She stole very gently into the pantry, and wrapped up some broad slices of bread and meat which were left from her father’s supper. Then she warmed some tea and poured into it the last drop of milk from her own bowl, of which, as yet, she had not tasted. When all was ready she wrapped her mother’s great shawl about her, and carefully unbolted the door.

“Hesper,” said her father, “where are you going?”

She was very sorry he had heard her, for she feared he would not allow her to go out so late at night.

“Only to carry Mose some supper, if you please, sir,” she said very meekly. “Poor Mose! I am afraid he will faint before morning, if he does not have some.”

“That is right; you are a good girl, Hesper,” he said in a pleasant tone.

O, how those few, gently spoken words made her heart throb, and with what joyful tears in her eyes did she spring from the door-step! Never had she known him to speak so kindly before, and her whole affectionate nature was drawn towards him in a moment.

CHAPTER IV.

MOSE

Hesper was quite at a loss what to do, when she came to the great door of the Rolling Mill. The dress of the workmen – the red light shining on their faces – the dazzling brightness from the furnaces, and the deep, gloomy blackness of the more remote parts of the building, all appeared so wild and strange, that she dared not enter. Every few moments the doors of the furnaces would be raised, and a large, glowing mass of red hot iron taken out, which was drawn quickly between rollers of various sizes. Great showers of sparks flew in all directions, and the voices of the workmen had a strange, unnatural sound as they shouted to one another amid the roar and din of the ponderous machinery. Hesper quite despaired of ever finding Mose amid all this confusion, and she longed to see some one of whom she could inquire.

“What’s that, over in the corner yonder?” said one of the workmen to another, pointing towards Hesper.

“Well,” said his companion, after a moment’s pause, “I am not quite certain, but if it wasn’t so late, I should take it to be a little girl.”

“Some stray child, I suppose,” said the first – “I’ll go speak to her.”

“Do you wish for anything, my little maid?” he asked kindly.

“Please, sir,” said Hesper, curtseying, “can you tell me where my brother, Moses Greyson is?”

“I will see,” he replied, and he went to Mr. Brown, the overseer.

“Follow me, my little lady,” said Mr. Brown, “and I will point him out to you. The poor fellow was pretty well tired, and I told him he had better rest awhile.”

They went out of the mill, and passed along the borders of the stream, by which the machinery was turned.

“There he is, yonder,” said Mr. Brown, and as Hesper looked in the direction in which he pointed, she saw Mose sitting upon a log near the mill-dam. She thanked Mr. Brown as he left her, and then stole up softly behind her brother. He had an old coat thrown over his shoulders – his elbows rested upon his knees, and his face was covered with his hands.

“Poor fellow,” thought Hesper, “how tired and hungry he must be!” She gathered up her great shawl, and then clasped her arm closely about his neck.

“What are you thinking about, Mose?” she said cheerfully, as she laid her warm cheek against his.

“Why Hesper!” he exclaimed, in perfect astonishment, “in the name of all that is wonderful how came you here.”

“To bring you some supper, Mose,” she replied, as she displayed her little tin pail, and roll of bread and meat.

“That is just like you,” said Mose. “You are the most thoughtful girl in the world.” There was such a choking sensation in his throat, he could not say another word. If he hadn’t been a great boy he would have cried outright. A few moments before, he was feeling perfectly wretched for he thought that everybody in the world had forgotten him. But even then, that dear, good girl, was trudging all alone over the hills, to bring him some supper, and now was sitting upon the log beside him, with her sweet little face close to his. “Who wouldn’t love such a sister,” he thought, and he longed to say so, but just then he dared not trust his voice to speak.

“Do eat it now,” said Hesper, “and drink the tea while it is hot, it will do you so much good.” He did not wait for a second invitation, but ate and drank with a good relish, for he was faint with hunger.

“There,” he said, as he swallowed the last morsel, “that has done my very heart good, and I cannot tell you how much better I feel than I did ten minutes ago. I am glad you came just as you did, Hesper, for I was thinking that if I should jump into the stream here, all my troubles would soon be over, and I should rest forever.”

“O Mose! Mose! what a dreadful thing!” exclaimed Hesper.

“Well,” he said, laughing, “I didn’t really mean to. I was only thinking about it. But I don’t feel so now. I want to talk to you, Hesper, now that I have the chance – I long to lay open my whole heart to you, but I am afraid you will think me very selfish if I do.”

“No, no Mose,” said Hesper, “I can never think that of you, for when I have seen you so good and patient, it has given me greater courage to persevere. You seem nearer to me, Mose, than any of the others, because you and I have a great many hard things to bear. But aunt Nyna tells me that if we are patient, we shall be all the stronger and better for it when we grow older, and I believe it, for she has met with a great many sorrows in life, and yet there is no one more cheerful.”

“Well,” said Mose proudly, “if a little girl like you has so much courage, I am sure I ought to, but when I see the advantages that other boys possess I can’t help longing for something better. I want to know more – I want to see more of the world, and I want to earn money enough to make us all comfortable, for it is killing me to drudge along so day after day, merely to get food and clothing, and not have one moment for thought or enjoyment. Hesper, it is too hard, though I never said so before.”

“I wish I knew what you could do,” said Hesper, sorrowfully. He drew an old book from his pocket. It looked very much worn and tumbled. The covers were loose, and the leaves soiled and torn down at the corners. It was the old Geography he had formerly studied in school. “Look here,” he continued, “every moment of my leisure time I have spent over this old book, until I can repeat almost the whole of it. Now, Hesper, if I could only go to sea, I could do all I wish. I long to be away on the broad ocean, where I can grow strong and healthy. I think of it all day and dream of it at night. Sometimes, when I have done work, I have gone away by myself far along the beach, where the waves came rolling in from the open sea. There I have seen the great merchant ships pass by with their sails all set, and their flags streaming in the breeze. I have watched them till they have been lost, quite lost in the distance, and then, as I have thought of the different ports to which they were bound, of the wonderful cities and strange people they visited, I have indulged in so many useless longings, that sometimes I have wept like a child. O, Hesper! if it were only possible!” Hesper was astonished, for she had never heard Mose say so much before. But he had quite taken her heart into his own, and now she felt there was nothing in the world so desirable as that Mose should go to sea. She did not once think of the sad loss it would be to the family, or of her own loneliness. It was enough that he wanted to go, and she felt that he must.

“I believe it is possible,” she said with the utmost confidence, though she was sure she couldn’t tell why. Mose shook his head sorrowfully – “I don’t see how, said he – father is not strong as he used to be – mother is sick, and Fred and Charlie are too young to do anything useful. I feel that I must stay at home, though I should die at my post. Besides, there is no one to help me.”

Hesper was silent, but her heart was full of sympathy. She glanced down at the foam-covered stream as it fell over the dam and dashed boldly over every obstacle. Then she raised her eyes to the cloudless heavens, where the stars were shining brightly and the full moon looked kindly down upon her.

“God will help us,” she said earnestly. Mose looked steadily in her face, and then as he, too, glanced upward, the same feeling of hopefulness and child-like confidence in the fatherly care of God came over him.

“Yes, God will help us,” he responded, “and we will trust in Him.”

That was enough – their hearts were at rest. Had they been older, the doubts and skepticism which often come with riper years, might have intervened to dim the brightness of their cheerful faith; but as it was, their child-like hearts leaned with unwavering confidence upon this great staff of hope, in the full assurance that it would not fail them.

“Good night,” whispered Hesper, as she held up her cheek for a parting kiss.

“Good night,” replied Mose, as he gave it, and the next moment she was gone.

CHAPTER V.

THE GREYSONS AND GRIMSBYS

The Greysons lived in a long, low, double house, situated near the seashore, with nothing around it to render it attractive or agreeable. The other part was occupied by a family named Grimsby. The father was in California, and the mother went out washing. She was exceedingly sensitive on this point, however, and was so much afraid the neighbors would think less of her on account of it, that she never missed an opportunity of telling them they were no better than herself – that every cent she had, she earned honestly, and that was what everybody couldn’t say. Some were foolish enough to reply, but they usually suffered for it, as Mrs. Grimsby’s tongue was the terror of the whole neighborhood. She was quite sure, she said, that the time would come when she should be able to look down on those who despised her now, and make them feel it an honor to have their children associate with hers.