The hidden servants and other very old stories

Front matter

Chap. Copyright No.

^helLA^/f/y^

Marianna and her Vision by the Fire From a drawing by the author

Preface

From the people of to-day ; Thankful for the memory dear Of a morning, ahvays near.

Though long vanished, and so fair I Deivy flo'wers and April air ; Thankful that the storms of noon Spent their force and died so soon ; Thankful, as their echoes cease. For this ttvilight hour of peace.

But my life, to evening groivn. Still has pleasures of its oivn. Up my stairway, long and steep, Novj and then the children creep ; Gather round me, ti>here I sit All day long, and dream, and knit ; Fill my room l:i>ith happy noise — May God bless them, girls and boys f Then siveet eyes upon me shine. Dimpled hands are laid in mine ; And I never ask them 7t>hy They have sought to climb so high ; For 'tivere useless to enquire I ' Tis a story they desire.

PREFACE

Taken from my ancient store, None the 7i?orse if heard before ; And they turn, ti>ith pleading looks. To my shelf of time-l^orn books. Bound in parchment broivn yt>ith age. Little in them to engage Children s fancy, one "would say I Yetf lPt>hen tired li>ith noisy play. Nothing pleases them so yt>ell As the stories I can tell From those pages, old and gray. With their edges "t^om a^way ; Spelling queer, and 't^oodcut quaint. Angel, demon, prince, and saint. Much alike in face and air ; Houses tipping here and there. Lion, palm-tree, hermit's cell. And much more I need not telL

Then they all attentive li>ait. While the story I relate.

And, before the half is told, I forget that I am old !

But one age there seems to be

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For the tittle ones and me.

What though all be new and strange.

Little children never change ;

All is shifting day by day, —

Worse or better, J^ho can say ?

Much Jne lose, and much iPoe learn.

But the children still return.

As the flcm)ers do, every year ;

Just as innocent and dear

As those babes %)ho first did meet

At our Heavenly Master' s feet.

In His arms He took them all :

Oh, 'tis precious to recall —

Blessed to believe it true —

That l:^hat t^e love He loved too !

Since the time ti>hen life Ji>as new. All my long, long journey through, I have story-teller been.

When a child I did begin To my playmates ; later on.

Other children, long since gone. Came to listen ; and of some. Still the children's children come I

PREFACE

Some, the dearest, took their flight. In the edrly morning light.

To the glory far a'cvay.

Made for them and such as they* I have lingered till the last; All the busy hours are past ; Now my sun is in the lt>est, Sloivly sinking down to rest Ere it ivholly fades from view. One thing only I 'would do : From my stories I 'would choose Those ' t 'would grieve me most to lose. And 'would tell them once again For the children 'who remain. And for others, yet to be.

Whom on earth I may not see* Here, 'within this volume small, I have thought to 'write them all; And to-day the 'work commence. Trusting, ere God call me hence, I may see the 'whole complete* It 'will be a labour sweet.

Calling back, in sunset glow, Happy hours of long ago*