"Are you sure, Jane ?" "No, I am not sure. and all." But it looks like yours; the cord, clasp, "I wish I knew whether it was mine!" "I can find out, Ella. I am going to-morrow to see her about a geranium she promised me, and I will examine it." "Oh, do, Jane; I wish you would." 'Ella," said Jane the next day, after she returned from Doty's, "that is your locket." "Is mother's likeness in it ?" "Yes." "And a lock of her hair ?" "Yes." "Oh, I am so glad I have found where it is!" "How did she say she got it?" "She said your father let Mr. Doty have it towards what he was owing him." "That is too bad!" exclaimed Ella, bursting into tears. "I am afraid I shall never see it again. How can I part”—she could say no more. Nor were her fears groundless. Doty was visited by Mrs. Selby and others, but their entreaties and tears were alike powerless to move him. Mrs. Doty and Lucy would have been glad to return it, but Doty peremptorily commanded them not. Some months after the death of Mrs. Howland, an arrangement was made that Ella should go to live with her uncle in the State of Georgia, and Ida with an aunt in Massachusetts. The day before they separated, they went alone to take their last look at the cot, and other things closely connected with their mother's sufferings and death. Hand in hand they slowly walked up the lane to the place where but a short time before they bade adieu to their dearest earthly friend. They entered, but not a word was uttered. They felt they were in the presence of their mother. The fireplace, the heavy sash and broken lights, brought to their remembrance the pale face, the emaciated form, the beaming eye, the sweet voice and wise counsel of their dying mother. Their feelings were only expressed by tears and convulsive sobs. "Dear Ella," said Ida, as they lingered in front of the door, "let us go once more up the Sugar Loaf.” "Is there time? It is nearly sunset, you see, Ida.” "Oh, do go, Ella! I want to visit it once more.” They walked'slowly up the mountain path. The familiar trees and the jutting rocks awakened painful associations in their hearts. Silently they toiled on, climbing over broken fragments of rocks, until they gained the summit. It was a beautiful day, very much such a day as the one when Mrs. Howland accompanied them to that very place to view the setting sun. Every stone, shrub, and plant seemed to speak of their mother. They came to a small, moss-covered mound, upon which Mrs. Howland had reclined from exhaustion, embraced each other, knelt down upon it, and sobbed aloud. None but He who reads the thoughts knows what passed in their minds; for not a word was uttered. They arose from their knees, each broke off a small bit of moss, wiped away their tears, took their last look at the beautiful landscape before them, and descended the mountain. There was one other place to be visited—their mother's grave. They had often repaired to it, but with very different feelings; now they were to look upon the earth which covered the remains of their dear parent, and wet it with their tears for the last time. "Farewell, dear mother!" said Ella, as they slowly turned away. "The rose and sweet-brier which we have planted upon thy grave will bloom, but thy daughters will not be here to inhale the sweet fragrance. Farewell! farewell!" The next morning the stage-coach drove up to the door of Mr. Selby's at an early hour, and bore Ella away to the sunny south. In a few days after, Ida also left for her aunt's in Massachusetts. CHAPTER VI. THE TEMPERANCE MEETING. "Ah me! The world is full of meetings such as this: LATE in the month of November, a tall man, with sharp black eyes, ruddy face, and of quick muscular motion, mounted on an old black horse, was seen just at night entering Harwood. He reined up his horse at the inn of George Parks, dismounted, put his head in at the door, and said, "Halloa, landlord, can you take me and my horse in to-night ?" "I guess so,” replied Parks, at the same time taking the horse by the bridle to lead him to the stable. The stranger walked into the bar-room, and there found three individuals, who had the appearance of being hard drinkers, seated around a cheerful fire that was burning briskly in the grate. The bar was filled with bottles containing all kinds of intoxicating liquors: the smoky walls, the fractured chairs, and dirty floor, inclined the stranger to think it was a public-house kept more for the "actual accommodation" of neighbouring guzzlers, than for travellers. The three individuals monopolised the fire so completely that they compelled the stranger, though cold and fatigued, to take a seat in a corner of the room. When the landlord came in, he said, in an angry tone, “Come, Huff, why don't you move back, and give the stranger a chance to come to the fire? Where are your manners ?" Huff had been under the training of old Parks so long, and had so often submitted to his rules, that he obeyed, and gave up his chair to the stranger. "Cold, rough weather for the time of year," said Parks, directing his conversation to the stranger. "Very trying weather to be out from home," was the reply. “Then you don't reside in these parts ?” "No, I am some distance from home." "Were you ever through here before ?" "Never." “How far are you travelling west, sir ?" inquired Parks. "Don't know exactly. I am out on a kind of exploring tour, to see how the land lies.” This stranger had for many years been employed by the Temperance Society, but wished to keep it concealed from the landlord. He was in the habit of entering public-houses incog., that he might learn the tricks and arts of the drink-traffic. From his appearance, no one would suspect him of being a temperance Much of his life had been spent in dissipation. His face still retained its fresh colour; and the general appearance of hardness, which he had acquired during his course of drinking, had not been lost, which readily initiated him into the company of the dissolute, without awakening any suspicion who he man. was. Very soon after the above conversation between the stranger and Parks, a young man entered the bar-room. "Good evening, Mr. Parks," said the young man. "Good evening, Mr. Sherman; walk up to the fire," said Parks, placing for him a broken chair. "You are not going to the temperance meeting, I hope?" "No, not I. I never go to such places, you know, Parks." "I know you haven't been in the habit of doing so; but I didn't know but you had changed your mind. They are having meetings two or three times a week, and a good many are making fools of themselves by signing the pledge; and I didn't know but you had.” "If I drink some brandy, will that convince you that I am no fool ?" "Prepare it, then, and do your best." Parks stepped into the bar to get the brandy: just then a gentleman entered the bar-room, of low stature, thick-set, with dark whiskers, and dressed in a drab overcoat with fur collar and cuffs, who said, "Good evening, Mr. Parks. You are at your old trade yet, I see. Did you ever read in the Bible, 'Woe unto them that are mighty to drink wine, and men of strength to mingle strong drink' ?" "No! You are always meddling with other men's matters, and dragging in the Bible to justify yourself." "If I do nothing worse than that, I shan't commit a very great sin." "You wouldn't if you told the truth. But more than half you pretend to quote from the Bible ain't there. I tell you, Wainwright, your head 's so full of notions about selling liquor, which you have picked up from old speeches and temperance tracts, and you have harped upon them so long, that you really think they are in the Bible," said Parks, in an angry tone. "But don't mean to say you that passage which I just now quoted is not in the Bible?" asked Wainwright, smiling. "Yes, I do. There's no such passage. And the one you quoted the other day, when you saw old Jim Nichols lying drunk on my steps, ain't in the Bible," replied Parks, with a triumphant shake of the head. "What passage do you mean? It has escaped my memory." "That one about the bottle. Cursed be thy bottle, for putting thy neighbour to thy lips,"" replied Parks, considerably confused. "Oh yes, Mr. Parks; you are right; there is no such passage |