Down! down! rebellious soul, not thus must thou remembered be-- Not thus a world must ages hence be taught to think of me-- Not thus would I be carried on by Time’s resistless flood; I would not be remembered with the great, but with the good-- If in my heart one virtue live, one pure and holy thought, If in my character one high and noble trait be wrought, If in my life one act be found from earthly blemish free, If one bright impulse point to Heaven, by that remember me! C. E. T.
“Do, dear Clara, stay at home to-night; father will be so grieved.”
“He certainly has shown no great regard for my feelings, and he cannot expect me to be over-tender of his. I am sure I could not endure to stay here, and my marvel is that you can.”
Clara Gregory did not observe the tear that glistened in her sister’s eye, as she spoke these words, in a bitter tone; yet her voice was gentler when she spoke again.
“Please, Alice, just tie my tippet for me; my hands are gloved. There, thank you.”
She opened the hall-door, and stood for a moment listening to the moan the leafless trees made as they shivered in the blast.
“Well, Alice, I suppose it is of no use asking you to go with me; so, good-night!” And she slowly descended the steps, and passed down the street.
Alice stood watching her receding form until she disappeared, and then, with a shiver, she turned away.
“How cold it is!” she said to herself. “I must be sure to have it warm and pleasant for them when they come. Let me see. I will have a fire in the little back parlor; it looks so bright and cheery. I know father will like that best.”
The fire was kindled, the rooms were lighted, and the young girl wandered through them, again and again, to assure herself that nothing could make them more home-like and inviting. In the large parlors, with their rich furniture and furnace-heat, there was little for her to do.
A certain awe forbade her to interfere with “Aunt Debby’s” accustomed arrangements, but in the “dear little back parlor” she might do as she listed; and she found ample employment for her fairy fingers.
The fuchsia must be taught to droop its bright blossoms over the pale calla, the door of Canary’s cage was to be set open, the father’s slippers to be placed before his chair, the favorite books to be laid upon the table.