Lewie; Or, The Bended Twig

by Sarah H. Bradford

“It’s cousin Agnes makes it so pleasant,” said blue-eyed Jessie.

“It is because you spend it as God directs, that it is a pleasant day to you, dear children,” said Agnes; “and I wish you to remember that it will always be a happy day, if you spend it in His service, ‘from the beginning unto the end thereof.’”

Even if I were sufficiently acquainted with them to detail all the plans of Agnes for the education and improvement in manners and habits of her rude and ignorant little pupils, I should not do so here. They required peculiar training and an unfailing stock of patience, and it was long before any very perceptible change was wrought in their almost confirmed habits of carelessness, or any improvement in their rude and unformed manners; but at length a material change was apparent, and even the Misses Fairland could not keep their eyes closed to the visible improvement of the children. They were all much more gentle and quiet; and even poor Tiney softened much, under Agnes’ gentle influence, and the light of intelligence began to beam in her heretofore dull eye. For the first time in her life, she was gaining useful ideas; and the consciousness that she was learning something as well as her sisters, seemed to make her happier and more kindly in her feelings.

It was not long before the door would open gently, as the sound of their evening hymn was heard, and Mr. Fairland, who was extravagantly fond of sweet and simple music, would steal into the room, and seat himself in the corner. And when he heard the voices of his children singing the praises of God, and saw his poor Tiney, hitherto so neglected, joining with eager interest in the singing, the tears would glisten in his eye, and roll unbidden down his cheek. Then he began to find his way to the school-room on Sunday evenings, and Agnes always took the opportunity on such occasions, to question the children on the elements of religious truth, that their young voices might be the means of instructing their father, who was more ignorant even than they, on these all-important subjects. At these times he never said one word, but when he left the room, it was often wiping the tears first, from one cheek and then from the other, and the heavy tread of his feet could be heard far into the night, as he walked the whole length of the two large parlors, with his hands behind him, and his head bent down. Before Agnes had been six months in the family, the good people sitting in the church at Wilston, one Sunday, opened their eyes with astonishment, to see Mr. Fairland walk into church and take his seat in a pew; and still more were they amazed, to see him do the same thing in the afternoon. It was a surprise to Agnes too; for though she had not failed to notice an unusual solemnity about Mr. Fairland, yet no word on the subject of his duty in this matter had ever passed between them.

Thus in the strict and conscientious performance of her daily duties, passed the summer with Agnes, with one delightful break, of a fortnight’s vacation, spent with the dear loving friends at Brook Farm, where she saw much of her dear brother Lewie, who rode over every evening and passed the night, returning to his college duties early in the morning. The quick eye of a sister’s love soon detected that all was not right with Lewie. He was as affectionate as ever, and if possible handsomer; but the faults of his childhood had grown with his growth and strengthened with his strength; his temper seemed more hasty and impetuous than ever, and there was a dashing recklessness about him which gave his sister many a heart-ache; and she had painful, though undefined fears for the future, for her rash and hot-headed brother.

Her kind friends at Brook Farm, who fancied from some things they drew from Agnes, that her home at the Fairlands’ was not in all respects a happy one, urged her most earnestly not to return there, but without success. Agnes was convinced that there the path of duty lay, at least for the present, and nothing could make her swerve from it.

“Remember then, my sweet niece,” said her uncle, as he kissed her at parting, “this is your home, whenever, for any reason, you will make us so happy as to return to it.”

The winter passed by very quietly to Agnes, in her accustomed round of duties; indeed she was happier than she had yet found herself under Mr. Fairland’s roof, in consequence of the absence of the two young ladies, who having by some means or other succeeded in securing an invitation out of some acquaintances in the city, to make them a short visit, inflicted themselves upon them for the whole winter, and did not return to Wilston till the spring was far advanced. Their hosts, in order to rid themselves of such persevering and long-abiding guests, began to make their preparations long before the usual time for closing their house and going to the country, and the Misses Fairland, invulnerable as they proved all winter to anything like a hint, were obliged to take this intended removal of their friends as a “notice to quit,” which they accordingly did.

One bright spot to Agnes this winter, was a visit of a week from Lewie, who took his vacation at the time of the holidays to run up and see his sister.

He had his guitar with him, and his voice, which had gained much in depth and richness, was indescribably sweet. It seemed as if Mr. Fairland never would tire of hearing the brother and sister sing together. His mills and everything else were forgotten, while he sat silently in his great chair with his eyes closed, listening hour after hour to the blended harmony of their charming voices.