Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Tonya Allen, and Project
Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders
[Illustration: MARY AND THE SICK CHILD—SEE PAGE 56.]
The scenes and characters of this story are those once familiar to thewriter. The story itself is but a disconnected diary of one who, earlyrefined from earthly dross, lived only long enough to show us thatthere was both reason and divine authority in the words of an apostle,when he exhorted Christians to "Be Courteous."
Not more than a mile and a half from a pleasant village in one of oureastern States is a plain, extending many miles, and terminated on thenorth by a widespread pond. A narrow road runs across the plain; butthe line of green grass bordering the "wheel-track" upon either side,shows that though the nearest, this road is not the most frequented wayto the pond. Many reasons might be assigned for this. There is awearisome monotony in the scenery along this plain. There are no hills,and but few trees to diversify the almost interminable prospect,stretching east, west, north, and south, like a broad ocean, withoutwave or ripple. The few trees scattered here and there stand alone,casting long shadows over the plain at nightfall, and adding solemnityto the mysterious stillness of that isolated place. It is not a placefor human habitation, for the soil is sandy and sterile; neither is ita place for human hearts, so desolate in winter, and so unsheltered anddry during the long warm summer. Yet midway between the village and thepond was once a house, standing with its back turned unceremoniouslyupon the narrow road with its border of green. It was a poor thing tobe called a house. Its front door was made, as it seemed, withoutreference to anything, for it opened upon the broad ocean-like plain.No questions had been asked relative to a title-deed of the land uponwhich that house stood, or whe