There were frequent friendly contentions in the family to see who would have the special care of the new comers. Little Mary insisted on having Bridget to sleep with herself instead of her sister Melinda, whom she wanted to dispossess. Wesley, Calvin, and Cassius wanted to monopolize Paul, especially on Sundays, when each of them were about to separate for their respective meetings to hear the preacher.
"Father," said Calvin, "won't Paul come with me? Our minister, Mr. Gulmore, is such a clever preacher, and our Sunday school the best and the largest."
"I say he shan't, now, Calvin," replied Wesley. "Your minister, the old feller, is nothing, compared with ours, Mr. Barker."
"Well, brothers," said Cassius, "I don't see the use of your jawing about it. But I say Paul had better come to our meeting—the very name, Universalist, signifying the same with Catholic, as I was telling Paul yesterday, while a-fishing, and as our minister said."
"Well, boys," said uncle Jacob, laughing, "my advice to you is; to see first whether Paul is willing to go with any of ye to yer meetings. I think his mind is made up to stay at home, like myself."
Amanda now stepped forward to inform this conference that Paul had been spoiled by their example; that he cried when told he must go to meeting; and that it was better now not to urge the matter further. In future, she intended to instruct Paul and Bridget herself; and she was resolved to cut off all intercourse between them and the younger members of the family.
Our readers are aware that Amanda was the Miss Prying, a child of her father by a former marriage; and besides this, she was an old maid. In addition to the foregoing circumstances, she became pious, attended camp meetings, donation parties, and quilting matches at young ministers' houses, who were just preparing to get a rib. And though she was praised as the best needle lady in the town, her epistles on love to young preachers were the most admirable mixture of classical and biblical composition that could be found. Though she had a good pair of hands at making pies, puddings, and other culinary preparations, though she was praised, flattered, and admired, yet nobody ever yet went beyond this. All was admiration, praise, flattery, no more. Again: Amanda, though a strict old school Presbyterian, in order to exhibit her liberality and prove that she had no objection to a partner from any of the other countless sects of Protestantism, be he Baptist, Methodist, or Unitarian—in order to prove her liberality, she attended the donations of the six ministers of her village, and each of the dominies received from her a neatly-worked handkerchief for pulpit use. Yet, though she was at once liberal and strict, pious and politic; though she induced one Sally Dwyer to join her church and declare she "got the change of heart;" though she was eternally working and planning to bring others to her way of thinking, and had some success in her proselyting efforts,—she never could, with all her art, biblical lore, and policy, succeed in causing any body to say, "I take thee, Amanda, to my wedded wife." This was the chief point; and here is just where she failed. What was the cause of it? She was not too old—not near so old as Miss Longface, whom the youthful parson Barker lately wedded. "And besides," said she, in a soliloquy, "when I was young, it was just the same bad luck. Is it that men are less numerous than ladies? There might be something in that, for she had seen it stated in their newspaper, 'The Home Journal,' that female births exceeded that of males by forty thousand annually in certain European kingdoms. The number of Popish priests also," she said, "who remain unmarried, adds greatly to the superfluity of the female sex. Hence there is no part of the wicked Popish system I regard so much contrary to God's holy word as celibacy. Celibacy!" she cried aloud; "one of the doctrines of devils, as any one can tell, who has been these twenty years in search of a mate, and could never yet find one! O horrid thought!" She had consulted the famous fortune teller at the state fair of Vermont, and, after having paid that "seer of future events" a fee of ten dollars, she found his prediction was false. For she was told she would be married within two years, and to a neighboring minister; but now it was twenty-six months since, and the only single minister around lately got married to Miss Longface, a very ignorant and unamiable person. But there was no taste, or judgment, or discernment nowadays in men, as this fact clearly proved. "Thunderation on them!" said she, in a rage.
Such were the ideas that were passing through the brain of Amanda one Sunday morning, as she lounged on the sofa of her sitting room, when, upon her looking out towards the lawn in front, she perceived Paul and Bridget kneeling by a seat, at the foot of a large wild plum tree that stood at the end of the green plot in front of the house, and that had its branches bent within a few feet of the ground by the embraces of a rich grape vine that for years had grown around it and impeded its development. For a few moments she watched the movements of the orphans as they smote their breasts at the "Confiteor," or bowed their heads at the "Sanctus," accompanying the priests who, they knew, in thousands of churches, were engaged in offering sacrifice to God; and reading the "Prayers at Mass" out of the Key of Heaven manual of devotion.
Instead of admiring this sincerity of devotion, or giving thanks to God for the grace of fidelity and piety that his mercy had vouchsafed to these children of grace, Amanda, as if she could not endure the sight of such happiness, or mortified at the miscarriage of her vain attempts to rob these innocent hearts of the treasure of true faith and piety which they possessed, still pale with rage in consequence of her ruminations about her own misfortune, the ill-tempered old maid there and then resolved to try another and a severer plan to effect her purpose of proselytism.
"Confound yer impudence, ye little Popish paupers!" she said to herself. "I shall soon make ye give up these superstitious practices. Paul, Paul, dear," she said, tapping at the window, "come in out of that, come in Bridget, ye little fools; the sun will spoil yer features, cover ye with tan."