was angry with mother for marrying as she did, and would never see any of us.”
“And your mother?” said Martin, striving to be calm. “Is she dead?”
“Yes,” said Floy, sorrowfully. “First, my father died, and we were left very poor. Then mother was obliged to work very hard, sewing; and finally she took a fever, and died, leaving me alone in the world. For a week, I wandered about without a home; but at last you took me in. I don’t know what would have become of me if you had not,” said she, gratefully.
“Floy,” said Martin, looking at her steadfastly, “do you know my name?”
“No,” said Floy. “I have often wondered what it was, but never liked to ask you.”
“Then,” said he, in an agitated tone, “you shall know now. I am Martin Kendrick, your GRANDFATHER!”
Floy was filled with amazement, but, after a moment, threw herself into his arms. “Will you forgive mother?” she asked.
“I will! I have! But, alas! she has much more to forgive me. Would that she were still alive!”
Every day, Martin Kendrick became more alive to the claims of affection. His miserly habits gave way, and he became more considerate in his dealings with his tenants. The old house, in which he lived so many years, was torn down; and he bought a neat cottage just out of the city, where he and Floy live happily together. Floy, who has been sent to school, exhibits uncommon talent, and is fitting for the station she will soon assume as the heiress of her grandfather.
MY CASTLE.
“I have a beautiful castle,
With towers and battlements fair;
And many a banner, with gay device,
Floats in the outer air.
“The walls are of solid silver;
The towers are of massive gold;
And the lights that stream from the windows
A royal scene unfold.
“Ah! could you but enter my castle,
With its pomp of regal sheen,
You would say that it far surpasses
The Palace of Aladeen;—
“Could you but enter as I do,
And pace through the vaulted hall,
And mark the stately columns,
And the pictures on the wall;—
“With the costly gems about them,
That send their light afar,
With a chaste and softened splendor,
Like the light of a distant star!”
“And where is this wonderful castle,
With its rich emblazonings,
Whose pomp so far surpasses
The homes of the greatest kings?”
“Come out with me at morning,
And lie in the meadow-grass,
And lift your eyes to the ether blue,
And you will see it pass.
“There! can you not see the battlements;
And the turrets stately and high,
Whose lofty summits are tipped with clouds,
And lost in the arching sky?”
“Dear friend, you are only dreaming;
Your castle so stately and fair
Is only a fanciful structure—
A castle in the air.”
“Perchance you are right. I know not
If a phantom it may be;
But yet, in my inmost heart, I feel
That it lives, and lives for me;—
“For, when clouds and darkness are round me,
And my heart is heavy with care,
I steal me away from the noisy crowd,
To dwell in my castle fair.
“There are servants to do my bidding;
There are servants to heed my call;
And I, with a master’s air of pride,
May pace through the vaulted hall.
“And I envy not the monarchs
With cities under their sway;
For am I not, in my own right,
A monarch as proud as they?
“What matter, then, if to others
My castle a phantom may be,
Since I feel, in the depth of my own heart,
That it is not so to me?”
MISS HENDERSON’S
THANKSGIVING DAY.
Thanksgiving Day dawned clearly and frostily upon the little village of Castleton Hollow. The stage which connected daily with the nearest railroad station (for as yet Castleton Hollow had not arrived at the dignity of one of its own) came fully freighted, both inside and out. There were children and children’s children, who, in the pursuit of fortune, had strayed away from the homes where they first saw the light; but who were now returning, to revive, around the old familiar hearth, the associations and recollections of their early days.
Great were the preparations among the housewives of Castleton Hollow. That must indeed be a poor household which, on this occasion, could not boast its turkey and plum-pudding—those well-established dishes; not to mention its long rows of pies—apple, mince, and pumpkin—wherewith the Thanksgiving board is wont to be garnished.
But it is not of the households generally
