The home circle

Preface

COME readers of "The Home Circle " will recognize the first part, published more than thirty years ago under the title of the "Friend's Family."

Enquiries addressed to me having reference to the manner in which Rebecca Stewart spent the money, given to her by her father for the benefit of Sally Davis, I am pleased to be able to answer them, and also to give a few particulars with regard to the marriage of Mary Stewart, which occurred the next spring.

A. S. P.

The Home Circle.

Chapter I. Home Life

THE room was a large, old-fashioned looking place, with many doors opening into it. Some were closet-doors ; one led into the entry which communicated with the "best end" of the house, one opened upon the porch or piazza, one into a passage leading to the kitchen, and one to a stairway, the space under which made a snug closet for the children, where they put all the articles specially belonging to them, that were in daily use. If you opened this closet, you might at once see that it was owned by a large family ; here were slates, books, work-boxes, and blocks, neatly placed upon a low shelf, while on the floor below were ranged in a row more than half a dozen pairs of little boots and shoes, with strings or buttons in order, just ready for the wearers to put on ; and there was not a muddy pair among them.

A large old-fashioned settee occupied the west side of the room ; it was placed between two windows ; and here, when any slight ailment occurred, the children were accustomed to having a little bed, with soft pillows and a coverlet to match, brought down-stairs, so that they might lie where they could be near the mother, and see what she was doing. No music ever sounded sweeter to their ears than mother's favorite hymn — written by Dr. Watts:

"Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber, Holy angels guard thy bed; Heavenly blessings without number Gently fall upon thy head."

Is it not a sweet hymn ? Sweetly it sounded to the sick child when chanted by the soft low voice of its affectionate mother. It was almost worth while to be just a little sick that one might be coddled and made much of, particularly when one had no disagreeable medicines to take. The mother's remedies were very simple — for a feverish cold she gave the little one plenty of lemonade ; and if accompanied by sore throat, she gave little pellets of ice, just as much as they liked ; if they coughed a great deal, she gave boiled molasses with butter and vinegar in it ; and if they complained of headache, she gave them nothing to eat until they were hungry enough to relish "cambric tea" with bread, and butter. She depended a good deal upon keeping her children quiet and warm, which generally answered ; but if one was really ill, she sent for Dr. T., in whom she had confidence as a good man, and she obeyed his directions as nearly as she could. The children were all very fond of Dr. T. and welcomed his kindly face.

I must not forget to tell you of another closet, where there were always crackers or bread for the children to eat, and where sometimes, by way of a treat, they found excellent gingerbread, such as sister Mary knew how to make, so that the small people all liked it. Nor must I forget to tell you who lived in this house.

The owner was named Thomas Ellwood Stewart ; he was called Thomas Ellwood after a Friend who lived many years ago, at the same time with William Penn, from whom our State derived its name.

The people of the neighborhood generally called him " Mr. Stewart," but as I am a Friend, I must call him Ellwood Stewart ; not that I mean to be disrespectful, but " Friends " think we ought not to say "Master" to any one, because we read in the Bible that we should not call any man our Master, and as "Mr." is merely a corruption of Master, " Friends " do not feel free to use the term.

Ellwood Stewart's wife was named Mary, and his eldest daughter was called by that sweet name, which almost every one loves — partly because it is associated with the mother of Jesus, and partly because it has a pleasant sound.

At the time my story opens, Ellwood 's daughter Mary was about twenty-two years of age, and after her followed a long line of brothers and sisters, Robert, William, Sarah, Henry, Rebecca, Jane, Elizabeth, Martha, and little two-year old Ellwood.

Robert and William were away from home ; the former studying medicine in Philadelphia, and the latter a clerk in his uncle's store. Sarah and Henry were at Westtown School, and it was to the five younger children that all the slates, books, work-boxes and shoes in the closet belonged. It was a delightful Seventh-day afternoon in the ninth month, and the children had some of their cousins with them, all playing in the yard. There were a number of fine old trees on the lawn before the house, and every boy or girl stood with his or her back against one of these trees, excepting one, whom they called " Pussy/ ' This one went around begging, " Poor Pussy wants a corner," " Poor Pussy wants a corner," and always received the same answer, "Go to the next neighbor. ' ' In the meantime the children at the trees were exchanging places with each other as rapidly as possible. If " Pussy " could get to a vacant tree before the rightful owner, she was entitled to it, while the one to whom it belonged went begging in the same way, until she was dexterous enough to slip into the place of some one else. It is a very pleasant and healthful exercise when played with spirit and good humor.

They were in sight from the door, and the air was ringing with their merry shouts and joyous laughter, when the mother and her eldest daughter brought their work to sit an hour or two together on the open piazza.

Very precious to both of these was the time they spent together as companions, for they did not expect to be inhabitants of the same house long : the daughter was about to take new duties, new hopes, new pleasures and new cares upon herself, and though it was, of course, her choice to do so, and though she was not going far away, yet her heart clung to the tender mother under whose sheltering love her life had been so happy. She longed to do more for, and to be more to her mother in return for her lovingkindness ; and the more she loved the one to whom she w r as going, the more she loved those whom she was leaving. She looked at, and listened to the children until her eyes filled with tears, then turning to her mother, said : " Mother, I feel as if I had not been all that an elder sister ought to be, to those dear children. I have not always been patient enough with them. I do not think I have been instructive either by precept or example. Ah, mother dear, what can I do to help thee with them now?"

" Dear daughter," said the mother, "thou hast helped me, and I shall always miss thee, and thou must not suppose I shall try to do without thee, although thou art about entering a sphere of more usefulness, and I trust, of increased happiness. Yes, dear, I shall miss thee more than I can say, yet I am glad to have thee marry such an excellent man as io The Home Circle.

our friend is. It would be a short-sighted selfishness that would always keep thee by my side."

The tears would come into Mary's eyes, as her mother spake, and both were quiet for a few minutes. When the mother spake again, she said: "Thou wilt not leave us until spring, my dear child, and perhaps will find time to execute a work that I should have liked to have commenced years ago. Our neighborhood is not one of Friends, and the children see and hear much to counteract home impressions. I do not wish to isolate them, but would like to have some employment for the winter evenings, which might be combined with their religious instruction. We have a great many books ; some of the old journals are very interesting, or at least would be if they were not written in such an old-fashioned style, that few children care to read them. Besides this, there are so many cruel and hard things mentioned, that I would rather not familiarize their minds with the details of such sufferings as our early Friends endured. At their tender age, it is likely to create a hardness of heart towards the members of the other sects who persecuted ours with unrelenting bigotry. Wilt thou be willing to sketch a character occasionally from these works ? thou hast read them so frequently, that thou wilt be at no loss in finding all that relates to any one particular character, and I think thou canst make it attractive. At any rate we will present the children with truths illustrating the peculiar views of our Society. ' -

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Mary's face brightened, and grasping at once the idea, she replied : " Yes, I should like to sketch the characters, though I fancy I cannot improve much on the style of dear old Sewell, who is my favorite among them all. He is charming to me, but I knowthere is a great deal in his books that it is just as well the children should not read yet. There are many characters which they are fully capable of comprehending. Even Martha can understand that of James Parnell, that poor boy who suffered and died for his conscience' sake before he w r as as old as our William. When I read those books, and learn how Friends were beaten, imprisoned, fined and punished in the many ways invented by malice, and think how 'we sit at ease in our possessions,' I feel that we do not know or value rightly our own standing. Many of us do that which is pleasing in the eyes of the world, because we do not like to bear the cross which makes us singular.

" It is honorable now to bear the name of ' Friend,' and yet I know that we sometimes shun the cross of our profession, more than when every opprobrious epithet was cast upon us. I like to be called a 'Friend,' but I can hardly bear to be called a 'Quaker,' though I know it really makes no difference."

"Yes, dear, it does make a difference," replied her mother. "'Quaker' was originally applied as a term of disparagement, and we have never quite reconciled ourselves to it. It is just one of the little

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daily crosses, not much in itself, perhaps, but if patiently borne, helping us to other things."

" Oh," said Mary, tftf if I may call it a cross — and it certainly is a cross to my pride — I can use a little resolution and learn to bear it, and watch myself still more,, that I may not inflict crosses upon others."

Chapter II. In-door Amusement

THE fall of the year is beautiful, and one bright Seventh-day after another came and passed, until Martha became persuaded in her own mind that all Seventh-days must be glad and sunshiny. The older children went to school, but she was almost too young for the long walk to the school-house which stood on the far edge of the woods — so that Elly and she were thrown together as playmates, and he was a never-ending source of amusement. He was not quite two years old, and just learning to lisp the words his little sister was so proud to teach him.

The grounds around the house were entirely safe, and as the children piled the fallen leaves of the maple, or drew down the long pliant branches of the willow for whips, or went down into the field to the old chestnut tree, they felt, though they could not express themselves, that existence was a great delight. They used to watch the great flocks of blackbirds which were preparing to go to another country — how they chattered and called and started off to try the wings of the young ones ; how they 2 13 circled, and wheeled around, and came back to the same tree again ; and how, making a fresh start and flying right overhead, they spread out, and on and on, until their number seemed immense. Sometimes the whole flock would settle upon the ground, hundreds upon hundreds, and before Elly and Martha got near them, they would rise with a loud whirr, and fly away, away out of sight.

And the plays near home. Elly never tired of driving a horse ; before he was a year old, he used to put out his fat dimpled hand to take the reins ; and if allowed to do so, would look as sober as a judge, and try to make a sound, clck, clck, like his father, to make Old Grey go faster. Martha used to indulge him by putting a string around her waist, and giving him the ends to hold, while she ran around the yard, pretending to be his horse. Sometimes he would insist upon driving through the house, but on his sister representing that horses did not open doors nor go into people's houses, he generally saw the reasonableness of keeping out.

One day she attempted to put an old hat, which had belonged to her brother Robert, on his head ; but it would slip down and bury his head and neck. She pulled it up and placed it farther back, to no purpose, for the least movement of the little wriggler let it down to rest on his shoulders. Elly stood patiently for a time, but finding his sister's efforts in vain, he said, "Nail, nail." The little fellow could say but one word at a time, and as he had seen that a board could be kept in its place by nailing, he thought the best plan of keeping the hat on his head would be to nail it there.

These bright days drew near their close, the dusk came sooner and sooner, until the weather was so cold that nearly all the birds flew away to a warmer climate : there was one, with bright red back and wings, that was not willing to leave his old home in a thick evergreen where the close leaves kept all ' the snow away from him. In the evening, about sunset, he would perch upon a post in front of the house, and there wait for his supper to be thrown out, then hop down, pick up the crumbs and fly off to his own snug little nest. The children never saw him in the winter-time, except about sunset, and then they watched. How pretty he was in his scarlet coat, when the snow was on the ground !

Now came a long spell of rainy weather, and after their unrestrained liberty, the little ones scarcely knew what to do with themselves. Elly tied two or three seats in front of an old arm-chair, into which he stepped by means of a stool, and drove his team for an hour or two at a time, greatly to his satisfaction ; but Martha was too big to enjoy such a vehicle: she was " six years old last birth-day, and going to be seven when the pears are ripe." Her active, energetic disposition made her very impatient of this in-door life, and she came to her mother's side to ask, "Oh ! mother, what shall I do?"

" Does not Dolly want a new apron ? ' ' said mother.

u No, indeed, mother ; she has a clean one on, and I made another this morning.' '

"What was thee doing, just now?" asked the mother.

" I was playing with Elly and Lizzy; and as fast as ever I build up a house, Elly knocks it down ; and he rubs out everything I draw on the slate ; and Lizzy won't let me touch any of her things. Oh ! mother, she is making a lovely bonnet for her Nancy; if I could make bonnets like Lizzy, Dolly should have one too, but Lizzy won't let me have a single thing. I guess she don't love me."

"Oh, yes, she does," her mother said, "but perhaps thee disturbs Lizzy's things as Elly did thine ; but I think I can find something pleasant for us all. As play does not suit, suppose we try work. Last evening, after my little girl went to bed, sister Mary prepared a pretty patch, ready for her to sew. It is made of Elly's pink dress, and that green one of thine thee likes so well : it is in the work-box, which I think thee has not opened to-day. Bring that and thy chair."

Martha obeyed ; but her countenance showed that she did not think it any great relief to be obliged to sew, though she dearly liked to sit by her mother. But when her mother said, "Go and ask father if he will read to us," she brightened up wonderfully, and going to her father's side, stood quietly by him for a minute, perhaps, before he observed her;

when, turning his kind face, he asked : " What shall I do for my little daughter ? ' '

" Mother said I might ask thee to read to us."

" Did mother send thee? Well, then, I am ready to do so ; " and putting up his paper, he came over to his wife and asked what she would like him to read. Mary, in obedience to her mother's look, had already gone for her manuscript, which she handed to him with a blush and a smile. He settled himself in his comfortable arm-chair, and read the title : "Sketch of the Life of Thomas Ellwood."

"Oh, father," said Martha, eagerly, "that is about thee, isn't it? does it tell what thee did when thee was a little boy ? Shall I tell Lizzy to come ? May I tell them all ? Father, what did thee do on rainy days, when thee couldn't go out? — "

"Stop, stop, little girl; don't ask so many questions all in a breath. No, it is not about me, but about the man after whom I was named ; that is, I was called Thomas Ellwood because he was called Thomas Ellwood."

" Oh, yes ! father, I know; for I was called Martha because dear grandmother Stewart's name was Martha ; and Jane w r as called Jane after grandmother Bruce."

"Yes, that is the way," said the father, "and now thee may call the other children and Nancy, too ; I don't know how we are to keep Elly quiet, though."

The fact was, no one liked to interfere much with

Elly's gratifications; he was such a round, rolypoly, curly-headed little fellow, and had such winning ways of his own, that it was hard to keep him under any very strict discipline. The family rules had relaxed a good deal before Elly came, and now he stood in a fair way of being spoiled ; only that as he saw the older children always obedient and loving, he naturally followed their example, and was by no means a disagreeable child. In this case, his sister Mary undertook to amuse him with slate and pencil ; and soon every one was seated with all appliances for spending an hour in work and reading. If Lizzy had been unable to find a piece of silk to match in her doll's bonnet, or Martha had forgotten her scissors, or mislaid a spool of cotton, it would have been thought a great breach of good manners to have interrupted the reader, or spoiled the enjoyment of the rest of the family, by getting up to go in search of the articles. They had learned this, long ago. And now a reading hour passed quietly and pleasantly to all,

Chapter III. The Story Of Thomas Ellwood

THOMAS ELLWOOD was the younger son of a man named Walter Ellwood. The Ellvvood family had once been rich; but, owing to many causes, had become poorer and poorer, until the grandfather of Thomas Ellwood, and the father of Walter, retrieved the fallen condition of the family by marrying the only child of Walter Gray, whose name and whose estate passed into the possession of Walter Ellwood.

Perhaps you do not know that, in England, it is the custom for the eldest son of a family to have all the money and lands left by the father when he dies. The oldest brother may spend his time in luxury and idleness, while the others are obliged to work very hard, sometimes, to procure themselves the means of living, even without much comfort. The sisters have small legacies left to them, or are dependent upon the generosity of their brothers. In many families it is not considered gentlemanly to work, and so they put the younger sons into the army, to kill or be killed \ or into the navy, where too they are expected to fight; or perhaps they oblige them to study law or physic ; or, worse' than all, to study how they may make money by preaching. Does it not seem a dreadful mockery to us, to have the words of life bought and sold ? Did not Christ say, " Freely have you received, freely give ? "

Thus it was at the time Thomas Ellwood lived, and thus it is even now in England. Ought we not to rejoice that our own lot was cast in a land so different ?

Thomas Ellwood was, as I have said, the younger son of an Englishman. He was born in the year 1639, rather more than two hundred years ago. When he was about two years old he was taken to London, where his father resided for some years. It was at the time of civil war. A civil war means a war carried on in a country between its own people, where neighbor fights against neighbor, a man against the companion whose hand he had clasped in friendship a month before — brother against brother, and father against' son. All wars are dreadful ; but these are the most dreadful.

At such a period as this Thomas Ellwood lived. The king and the parliament were opposed to each other — each with an army. The parliamentary forces overcoming those of the king, reduced him to submission. He was seized and beheaded ; his party was enraged, and the whole country bathed in blood. The priests and preachers, instead of telling the people how wicked they were, encouraged them on both sides. On both sides they prayed for vietory, and besought the Lord to look down upon their efforts, to bring ruin upon the enemy : forgetting that he is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity ; forgetting that he said, " Thou shalt not kill : " forgetting all that the meek and lowly Jesus ever taught. Alas ! it pains me to tell you of the wickedness which existed in England when the Society of Friends first arose ; but you cannot appreciate the beauty and true nobleness of their characters and actions unless you see the adverse circumstances by which they were surrounded. Walter Ellwood was not a Friend : he belonged to the parliamentary side, and took his family to London to be under their protection.

Here he became acquainted with Lady Springett, the widow of Sir William Springett, who died in the service of the parliament. Lady Springett had a little daughter, named Gulielma, with whom Thomas Ellwood spent a great deal of his time. They used to play together, and ride together in a little coach, which her footman would draw about. This is particularly mentioned, because the renewal of his acquaintance with her was the means of his being led towards Friends.

While living in London, the elder brother was boarded at a private school, but afterwards, when the family went to their own home, both he and Thomas were sent to a school about three miles off. Thomas learned very fast indeed \ ' yet he was often whipped, for he was a very mischievous little boy, and it took him such a little while to get his lessons that his hands would often get him into trouble. He played tricks upon the others, so that he would be whipped two or three times in a single day. Thomas never complained of this. But there are, I think, many other better ways of teaching children to be good. Thomas learned his lessons so fast and so well, that he probably would have made a very good scholar if he had had the proper opportunity. But Walter Ellwood's family being a very expensive one he thought he could not afford Thomas the advantages of a higher school ; particularly as the older brother was removed to college, where he was entered as a fellow-commoner, and as such expected to spend a great deal of money. This was acting upon the principle already mentioned, that the younger brother should give place in every respect to the older.

After leaving school Thomas paid but little attention to his books, until after a while he was afraid to read aloud lest he should make some mistake in the pronunciation of a word. He had a great deal of wit and good sense, which enabled him to make himself agreeable to those with whom he associated, and which often drew him into company.

In this way he lived until he was about eighteen years of age, not doing anything worse than wasting his time, as other young men did. One day he was out riding with his father, and they intended going to a neighboring town; but the coachman, seeing a nearer and better way than the one generally used, turned into it. It ran through a field of grain, but was quite wide enough for the carriage to pass without injuring it. There was a man ploughing not far off ; he ran to them ; and, stopping the coach, poured forth a shower of reproaches. Walter Ellwood mildly answered, that if any one was to blame it was not him, but the driver, who turned in that way without asking anything about it : but he told the man that he might come into town and he would pay him if there was any damage done. When they arrived in town they were told it was very often used as a road, but the common road was close by, and pretty good too ; so they concluded to return by the latter. It was late in the evening when they started, and very dark. The man who had troubled them in the morning got another man to join him to waylay them, expecting they would take the same road home. When they found this was not the case they ran across, and catching hold of the horses' bridles, would not let them go forward. Walter called out to the coachman, asking him why he did not go on. He answered there were two men at the horses' heads. Walter instantly opened the coach door, and, stepping out, expostulated with the men, who were armed with cudgels, and seemed bent upon doing mischief. He told them they were in danger from the law. But finding what he said of no effect, he turned to his son, who had followed him out of the carriage, saying, " Tom, disarm theffi.*' In those days it was the fashion for all those called gentlemen to wear swords. Accordingly Thomas drew his and made a pass at the one next him ; but the bright blade frightened the cudgel-bearer, who at once slipped aside, and ran off for safety ; while his companion, too much terrified to stand his ground, fled likewise. Thomas followed them, being very much enraged at their insolence ; but he could not come up with them, and then concluded they must have taken shelter under some bush. He ran so far that in the darkness of the night he could not find his way back, except by shouting to his father, and his father shouting in return.

At the time, and for a good while after, Thomas Ellwood's only regret was, that he had not come up with these men. Eut after he became acquainted with the gospel truth, oh ! how thankful he felt that he had been preserved from shedding human blood. For though our sins may be forgiven, yet it is one of the most awful recollections that can attend a man through life, that he has robbed a fellowcreature of existence. Nothing but the utmost dependence on the power and mercy of God can reconcile a truly feeling man to himself, when he has hurried into the presence of his Creator one who is doubtless unprepared. All the battles that were ever fought, all the victories ever gained, are not worth the sacrifice of one life. Yet it is a noble deed to venture freely fortune, liberty, honor, and life, in the service of our Divine Creator. He gave them : shall they not be devoted to him ? Did not Jesus Christ bear all things for us ? He was " a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; " and when cruel men were about to take his precious life, his words, " Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do," were the fruit of the gospel spirit of peace, and are an example to all future generations. Legions of angels were at his prayer, yet he submitted to be " led as a lamb to the slaughter." If we follow him, must we not suffer patiently when evil comes upon us ? When smitten upon one cheek, must we not turn the other ? When reviled, must we not, in obedience to Christ, revile not again ?