Mother.—"That I leave for your abler head and pen."
Schillie.—"Then it will never be done. I hate the place so much, I would not record a single thing about it."
Mother.—"If that is the case, leave my poor journal alone. I grant it is everything you say, dull, stupid, and monotonous, nevertheless, I have a fancy to keep it."
Schillie.—"Then, pray, indulge your fancy, and, in addition to keeping your journal, keep it locked up, for it is quite enough to endure all the children's twaddle, without writing it down."
My spinning-wheel answered remarkably well; but all my spinning was of little avail, as we had no idea of weaving. Schillie promised if she was not bothered by having to build more houses, she would try her hand at inventing a weaving machine the next rainy season. Luckily my yarn or thread was as coarse as needs be, and answered very well for crocheting and knitting. In both these arts we became wonderfully skilful; sewed crochet boots and shoes, while others knitted petticoats and jackets, so that we were in no particular fear that when our present clothes failed we should become a tribe of white savages. The children grew like the vegetation, and Gatty stalked over the ground like a young Patagonian. We had no lack of food, though we had neither beef or mutton, but poultry, birds, fish, eggs, and turtle, with innumerable vegetables and fruits, were surely enough for our simple party. In the midst of our many avocations, sighs and tears would arise for those we loved; neither could the the affection we bore each other, and the peaceful, useful, and happy lives we led, obliterate from our minds all we had lost. It was no uncommon thing, especially on Sunday, for us to collect round a favourite tree, and talk of and picture to ourselves what was passing at each home. In remembering the simple stedfast faith of my Father, the hopeful, sweet, loving nature of my Mother, I could not but think that through their virtues we might hope for a restoration to home. As the sins of the parents are visited on the children, so are their virtues means of showering blessings to the third and fourth generation. Was it possible that we were to be finally severed from the world for ever? all the comforts of civilized life fresh in our minds and thoughts. And here I sometimes paused, thinking to myself should we be restored in a few years, in what sort of state and condition should I deliver up each of my precious charges to their parents. I could not disguise from myself that their present mode of life was not suited for the highly-bred and polished youth of the nineteenth century. Madame, I must say, whatever employment they were about, from cutting down a tree to washing and peeling potatoes, never failed to inculcate a ladylike way of doing either employment, and spared no pains to make them as accomplished and graceful as our limited means afforded her.
Sybil was naturally so feminine and elegant that no rough work could spoil her. Serena had a bounding springing freedom of action that befitted a graceful young savage, and was too healthful and pretty to make any act one not suiting to her; while that dear young leviathan, Gatty, could have been graceful nowhere, though beaming with health and strength; how she did grow, and how she found out she was stronger than the little Mother, and how she teased her in consequence, enticing her upon little shelves of rock, under pretence of having discovered a new plant, and then keeping her there, though I might be calling for my lost companion until I was hoarse. Mischievous Gatty, and yet good and loving as she was mischievous. Serena managed her admirably, and could make her do whatever she liked; and it was pretty to see the sylph-like girl holding the great strong powerful Gatty in awe, lecturing her in a gentle, grave, simple way, with a sweet low voice, that murmured like a stream. Sybil might talk of duty, and "you ought" and "you ought not," until her fair face was flushed with talking, but she either found herself showered over with insects, or laid gently on the greensward, or swung up into a branch of a tree, from which she feared to jump down. No mercy had Gatty upon the gentle soft Sybil. The only one among the children who did not seem happy was Oscar. He had no boy of his own age to associate with in boyish pastimes; he was brought prematurely forward, from being the eldest male of our company; he had been passionately attached to his home, and he could bear no allusion to it, or the probability of not seeing it again, without being seriously unhappy for the day. Fond as they were of each other, his brother was too young to enter into the feelings that were unnaturally old, because forced on him.
If Schillie and Gatty devoted themselves to him for a day, he seemed more happy, but he loved to mope about by himself with his gun; and while he grew tall and strong, his face was pale, and his brow thoughtful beyond his years. Many were my anxious thoughts about him, and I lamented a thousand times having suffered Smart to leave, for he would at all events have been some sort of companion to him. Of all our party, he certainly was the only one who invariably remained grave and quiet, whatever might be the pleasantries in which we indulged.
Madame talked for an hour upon the dreadful fact of having no new music for the girls, and used the same phrases and words concerning there being no shop to buy a new cap as she did to the anxieties we had endured and the fears that others must be enduring for us.
Her horror at having no chemist near to make up her tonic mixture equalled the horror she felt at what had become of our companions, or seeing the girls do anything inconsistent to her notions as befitting young ladies caused her as dreadful a shock as the thunder. She was afflicted with fits of dying perpetually, which we remedied the best way we could, generally finding out that a long confidential talk about her sorrows, making her will, and confiding her last wishes to us, restored her as soon as any other recipe. But she was so good, and so fond of the children, that Madame had but to speak to have us all her messengers; even Schillie succumbed to her when the dying fit came on, matter of fact as she was, and scolding me as she did for giving in to it. I had exhausted all my efforts at consolation in one fit, and sent in Schillie to take my place.
"Well, Madame," began Schillie, in a great, stout, hearty, anti-invalidish voice, "better, of course, you are, I see."