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Mary Erskine

Chapter 17: CHAPTER IX. GOOD MANAGEMENT.
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About This Book

A series of linked domestic episodes set in a rural village community follows young children and neighboring families as they visit one another, manage household duties, attend a small school, and respond to an unexpected misfortune. The narrative models moral formation through sympathetic example rather than direct admonition, depicting everyday kindnesses, sensible household economy, cooperative problem-solving, and the pleasures of simple rural life. Scenes include visits to an elderly neighbor's farmhouse, village gatherings, schooling, and practical lessons in housekeeping and management, all presented to entertain youthful readers while quietly encouraging benevolence, responsibility, and prudent conduct.

"Yes," said Mary Erskine. "You shall be the third scholar. I am going to teach you to draw."

"Do you know how to draw?" asked Mary Bell, surprised.

"No," said Mary Erskine, "but I can show you how to learn."

"Well," said Mary Bell, "I should like to learn to draw very much indeed. Though I don't see how any body can teach a thing unless they can do it themselves."

"Sometimes they can," said Mary Erskine. "A man may teach a horse to canter, without being able to canter himself."

Mary Bell laughed at the idea of a man attempting to canter, and said that she should be very glad to try to learn to draw. Mary Erskine then said that after they had finished their breakfast the children might go out an hour to walk and play, and that then when they should come in, they would find every thing ready for the school.

Mary Bell concluded to take a walk about the farm during the time which they were allowed to spend in play, before the school was to begin. So she and Bella put on their bonnets, and bidding Mary Erskine good morning, they sallied forth. As they came out at the great stoop door their attention was arrested by the sound of a cow-bell. The sound seemed to come from the barn-yard.

"Ah," said Mary Bell, "there is Queen Bess going to pasture this morning. How glad I was to see her yesterday in the woods! Let us go and see her now."

So saying she led the way around the corner of the house, by a pleasant path through the high grass that was growing in the yard, toward the barns. Bella followed her. They passed through a gate, then across a little lane, then through a gate on the other side of the lane, which led into the barn-yards. The barns, like the house, were built of logs, but they were very neatly made, and the yards around them were at this season of the year dry and green.

Mary and Bella walked on across the barn-yard until they got to the back side of the barn, when they found Thomas turning the cows into a little green lane which led to the pasture. It was not very far to the pasture bars, and so Mary Bell proposed that they should go and help Thomas drive the cows. They accordingly went on, but they had not gone far before they came to a brook, which here flowed across the lane. The cows walked directly through the brook, while Thomas got across it by stepping over some stones at one side. Mary Bell thought that the spaces were a little too wide for Bella to jump over, so she concluded not to go any farther in that direction.

Bella then proposed that they should go and see the new house. This Mary Bell thought would be an excellent plan if Bella's mother would give them leave. They accordingly went in to ask her. They found her in the back stoop, employed in straining the milk which Thomas had brought in. She was straining it into great pans. She said that she should like to have the children go and see the new house very much indeed, and she gave them the key, so that they might go into it. The children took the key and went across the fields by a winding path until they came out into the main road again, near the new house. The house was in a very pleasant place indeed. There was a green yard in front of it, and a place for a garden at one side. At the other side was a wide yard open to the road, so that persons could ride up to the door without the trouble of opening any gate. The children walked up this open yard.

They went to the door, intending to unlock it with their key, but they were surprised to find that there was not any key hole. Mary Bell said that she supposed the key hole was not made yet. They tried to open the door, but they could not succeed. It was obviously fastened on the inside.

"Now how can we get in?" said Bella.

"I don't see," replied Mary Bell, "and I can't think how they locked the door without any key-hole."

"Could not we climb in at one of the windows?" said Mary Bell,—"only they are so high up!"

The children looked around at the windows. They were all too high from the ground for them to reach. There was, however, a heap of short blocks and boards which the carpenters had left in the yard near the house, and Mary Bell said that perhaps they could build up a "climbing pile" with them, so as to get in at a window. She accordingly went to this heap, and by means of considerable exertion and toil she rolled two large blocks—the ends of sticks of timber which the carpenters had sawed off in framing the house—up under the nearest window. She placed these blocks, which were about two feet long, at a little distance apart under the window, with one end of each block against the house. She then, with Bella's help, got some short boards from the pile, and placed them across these blocks from one to the other, making a sort of a flooring.

"There," said Mary Bell, looking at the work with great satisfaction, "that is one story."

Then she brought two more blocks, and laid them upon the flooring over the first two, placing the second pair of blocks, like the first, at right angles to the house, and with the ends close against it to keep them steady. On these blocks she laid a second flooring of short boards, which made the second story. She then stepped up upon the staging which she had thus built, to see if it was steady. It was very steady indeed.

"Let me get up on it," said Bella.

Bella accordingly climbed up, and she and Mary Bell danced upon it together in great glee for some time to show how steady it was.

Mary Bell then attempted to open the window. She found that she could open it a little way, but not far enough to get in. So she said that she must make one more "story." They then both went back to the pile, and got two more blocks and another board to lay across upon the top of them for a flooring, and when these were placed, Mary Bell found that she could raise the window very high. She got a long stick to put under it to hold it up, and then tried to climb in.

She found, however, that the window sill over which she was to climb was still rather too high; but, at length, after various consultations and experiments, Bella succeeded in getting up by means of the help which Mary Bell, who was large and strong, gave her, by "boosting her," as she called it, that is, pushing her up from below while she climbed by means of her arms clasped over the window sill above. Bella being thus in the house, took the key, which Mary Bell handed her for the purpose, and went along to the entry to unlock the door, while Mary Bell, stepping down from the scaffolding, went to the door on the outside, ready to enter when it should be opened. The children had no doubt that there was a key-hole in the lock on the inside, although there was none made in the door on the outside.

When, however, Bella reached the door on the inside, she called out to Mary Bell, through the door, to say that she could not find any key-hole.

"It is in the lock," said Mary Bell.

"But there is not any lock," said Bella.

"Is not there any thing?" asked Mary Bell.

"Yes," said Bella, "there is a bolt."

"Oh, very well, then, open the bolt," replied Mary Bell.

After a great deal of tugging and pushing at the bolt, Bella succeeded in getting it back, but even then the door would not come open. It was new, and it fitted very tight. Bella said that Mary Bell must push from the outside, while she held up the latch. Mary Bell accordingly pushed with all her force, and at length the door flew open, and to their great joy they found themselves both fairly admitted to the house.

They rambled about for some time, looking at the different rooms, and at the various conveniences for house-keeping which Albert had planned, and which were all just ready for use when Albert had died. There was a sink in the kitchen, with a little spout leading into it, from which the water was running in a constant stream. It came from an aqueduct of logs brought under ground. There was a tin dipper there upon the top of the post which the water-spout came out of, and Mary Bell and Bella had an excellent drink from it the first thing. The kitchen floor was covered with shavings, and the children played in them for some time, until they were tired. Then they went and got another drink.

When they at last got tired of the kitchen, they went to a window at the back side of the sitting-room, which looked out toward the garden, and commanded also a beautiful prospect beyond. They opened this window in order to see the garden better. A fresh and delightful breeze came in immediately, which the children enjoyed very much. The breeze, however, in drawing through the house, shut all the doors which the children had left open, with a loud noise, and then having no longer any egress, it ceased to come in. The air seemed suddenly to become calm; the children stood for some time at the window, looking out at the garden, and at the pond, and the mountains beyond.

At length they shut the window again, and went to the door at which they had entered, and found it shut fast. They could not open it, for there was now no one to push upon the outside. Mary Bell laughed. Bella looked very much frightened.

"What shall we do?" said she. "We can't get out."

"Oh, don't be afraid," said Mary Bell, "we will get out some way or other."

She then tried again to open the door, exerting all her strength in pulling upon the latch, but all in vain. They were finally obliged to give up the attempt as utterly hopeless.

Mary Bell then led the way to the window where Bella had got in, and looked out upon the little scaffolding. It looked as if the window was too high above the scaffolding for them to get down there safely. One of them might, perhaps, have succeeded in descending, if the other had been outside to help her down; but as it was, Mary Bell herself did not dare to make the attempt.

"I will tell you what we will do," said Mary Bell. "We will go to another window where there are no blocks below, and throw all the shavings out from the kitchen. That will make a soft bed for us to jump upon."

"Well," said Bella, "let us do that."

So they went to the kitchen, and opening one of the windows, they began to gather up the shavings in their arms from off the floor, and to throw them out. They worked very industriously at this undertaking for a long time, until the kitchen floor was entirely cleared. They picked out carefully all the sticks, and blocks, and pieces of board which were mixed with the shavings, before throwing them out, in order that there might be nothing hard in the heap which they were to jump upon. When the work was completed, and all the shavings were out, they went to the window, and leaning over the sill, they looked down.

"I wish we had some more shavings," said Mary Bell.

"Yes," said Bella, "that is too far to jump down. We can't get out any way at all." So saying, she began to cry.

"Don't cry, Bella," said Mary Bell, in a soothing tone. "It is no matter if we can't get out, for your mother knows that we came here, and if we don't come home in an hour, she will come for us and let us out."

"But perhaps there is a ladder somewhere," added Mary Bell, after a short pause. "Perhaps we can find a ladder that the carpenters have left somewhere about. If there is, we can put it out the window, and then climb down upon it. Let us go and look."

"Well," said Bella, "so we will."

The two children accordingly set off on an exploring tour to find a ladder. Mary Bell went toward the front part of the house, and Bella into the back kitchen. They looked not only in the rooms, but also in the passage-ways and closets, and in every corner where a ladder could possibly be hid. At length, just as Mary Bell was going up the stairs, in order to look into the little attic chambers, she heard Bella calling out from the back part of the house, in a tone of voice expressive of great exultation and joy.

"She has found the ladder," said Mary Bell, and leaving the stairs she went to meet her.

She found Bella running through the kitchen toward the entry where Mary Bell was, calling out with great appearance of delight,

"I've found the key-hole, Mary Bell! I've found the key-hole!"

This was indeed true. The lock to which the key that Mary Erskine had given the children belonged, was upon the back door, the principal door of the house being fastened by a bolt. Mary Bell went to the back door, and easily opened it by means of the key. Glad to discover this mode of escape from their thraldom, the children ran out, and capered about upon the back stoop in great glee. Presently they went in again and shut all the windows which they had opened, and then came out, locking the door after them, and set out on their return home.

When they arrived, they found that Mary Erskine had got every thing ready for the school.


CHAPTER VIII.

THE SCHOOL.

Good teachers and proper conveniences for study, tend very much, it is true, to facilitate the progress of pupils in all attempts for the acquisition of knowledge. But where these advantages cannot be enjoyed, it is astonishing how far a little ingenuity, and resolution, and earnestness, on the part of the pupil, will atone for the deficiency. No child need ever be deterred from undertaking any study adapted to his years and previous attainments, for want of the necessary implements or apparatus, or the requisite means of instruction. The means of supplying the want of these things are always at the command of those who are intelligent, resolute, and determined. It is only the irresolute, the incompetent, and the feeble-minded that are dependent for their progress on having a teacher to show them and to urge them onward, every step of the way.

When Mary Bell and Bella returned home they found that Mary Erskine had made all the preparations necessary for the commencement of the school. She had made a desk for the two children by means of the ironing-board, which was a long and wide board, made very smooth on both sides. This board Mary Erskine placed across two chairs, having previously laid two blocks of wood upon the chairs in a line with the back side of the board, in such a manner as to raise that side and to cause the board to slope forward like a desk. She had placed two stools in front of this desk for seats.

Upon this desk, at one end of it, the end, namely, at which Bella was to sit, Mary Erskine had placed a small thin board which she found in the shop, and by the side of it a piece of chalk. This small board and piece of chalk were to be used instead of a slate and pencil.

At Mary Bell's end of the desk there was a piece of paper and a pen, which Mary Erskine had taken out of her work-table. By the side of the paper and pen was Bella's picture-book. This picture-book was a small but very pretty picture-book, which Mary Bell had given to Bella for a present on her birth-day, the year before. The picture-book looked, as it lay upon the desk, as if it were perfectly new. Mary Erskine had kept it very carefully in her work-table drawer, as it was the only picture-book that Bella had. She was accustomed to take it out sometimes in the evening, and show the pictures to Bella, one by one, explaining them at the same time, so far as she could guess at the story from the picture itself, for neither she herself, nor Bella, could understand a word of the reading. On these occasions Mary Erskine never allowed Bella to touch the book, but always turned over the leaves herself, and that too in a very careful manner, so as to preserve it in its original condition, smooth, fresh, and unsullied.

Mary Bell and Bella looked at the desk which Mary Erskine had prepared for them, and liked it very much indeed.

"But where are you going to study?" asked Mary Bell.

"I shall study at my work-table, but not now. I can't study until the evening. I have my work to do, all the day, and so I shall not begin my studies until the evening when you children are all gone to bed. And besides, there is only one pen."

"Oh, but you will not want the pen," said Mary Bell. "You are going to learn to read."

"No," said Mary Erskine. "I am going to learn to write first."

"Not first," said Mary Bell. "We always learn to read, before we learn to write."

"But I am going to learn to write first," said Mary Erskine. "I have been thinking about it, and I think that will be best. I have got the plan all formed. I shall want you to set me a copy, and then this evening I shall write it."

"Well," said Mary Bell, "I will. The first copy must be straight marks."

"No," said Mary Erskine, "the first thing is to learn to write my name. I shall never have any occasion to write straight marks, but I shall want to write my name a great many times."

"Oh, but you can't begin with writing your name," said Mary Bell.

"Yes," said Mary Erskine, "I am going to begin with Mary: only Mary. I want you to write me two copies, one with the letters all separate, and the other with the letters together.

"Well," said Mary Bell, "I will." So she sat down to her desk, taking up her pen, she dipped it into the inkstand. The inkstand had been placed into the chair which Mary Bell's end of the ironing-board rested upon. It could not stand safely on the board itself as that was sloping.

Mary Bell wrote the letters M—A—R—Y, in a large plain hand upon the top of the paper, and then in a same line she wrote them again, joining them together in a word. Mary Erskine stood by while she wrote, examining very attentively her method of doing the work, and especially her way of holding the pen. When the copy was finished, Mary Erskine cut it off from the top of the paper and pinned it up against the side of the room, where she could look at it and study the names of the letters in the intervals of her work during the day.

"There," said she in a tone of satisfaction when this was done. "I have got my work before me. The next thing is to give Bella hers."

It was decided that Bella should pursue a different method from her mother. She was to learn the letters of the alphabet in regular order, taking the first two, a and b, for her first lesson. Mary Bell made copies of those two letters for her, with the chalk, upon the top of the board. She made these letters in the form of printed and not written characters, because the object was to teach Bella to read printed books.

"Now," said Mary Erskine to Bella, "you must study a and b for half an hour. I shall tell you when I think the half hour is out. If you get tired of sitting at your desk, you may take your board and your chalk out to the door and sit upon the step. You must spend all the time in making the letters on the board, and you may say a and b while you are making the letters, but besides that you must not speak a word. For every time that you speak, except to say a and b, after I tell you to begin, you will have to pick up a basket of chips."

Picking up baskets of chips was the common punishment that Bella was subjected to for her childish misdemeanors. There was a bin in the stoop, where she used to put them, and a small basket hanging up by the side of it. The chip-yard was behind the house, and there was always an abundant supply of chips in it, from Albert's cutting. The basket, it is true, was quite small, and to fill it once with chips, was but a slight punishment; but slight punishments are always sufficient for sustaining any just and equitable government, provided they are certain to follow transgression, and are strictly and faithfully enforced. Bella was a very obedient and submissive child, though she had scarcely ever been subjected to any heavier punishment than picking up chips.

"Shall I begin now?" said Bella.

"No," replied her mother, "wait, if you like, till Mary Bell has taken her lesson."

"I don't see how I am going to draw," said Mary Bell, "without any pencil."

"You will have to draw with the pen," said Mary Erskine. "I am very sorry that I have not got any pencil for you."

So saying, Mary Erskine took up the picture-book, and began turning over the leaves, to find, as she said, the picture of a house. She should think, she said, that the picture of a house would be a good thing to begin with.

She found a view of a house in the third picture in the book. There was a great deal in the picture besides the house, but Mary Erskine said that the house alone should be the lesson. There was a pond near it, with a shore, and ducks and geese swimming in the water. Then there was a fence and a gate, and a boy coming through the gate, and some trees. There was one large tree with a swing hanging from one of the branches.

"Now, Mary," said Mary Erskine, speaking to Mary Bell, "you may take the house alone. First you must look at it carefully, and examine all the little lines and marks, and see exactly how they are made. There is the chimney, for example. See first what the shape of the outline of it is, and look at all those little lines, and those, and those," continued Mary Erskine, pointing to the different parts of the chimney. "You must examine in the same way all the other lines, in all the other parts of the picture, and see exactly how fine they are, and how near together they are, so that you can imitate them exactly. Then you must make some little dots upon your paper to mark the length and breadth of the house, so as to get it of the right shape; and then draw the lines and finish it all exactly as it is in the book."

Bella looked over very attentively, while her mother was explaining these things to Mary Bell, and then said that she would rather draw a house than make letters.

"No," said her mother, "you must make letters."

"But it is harder to make letters than it is to make a house," said Bella.

"Yes," said her mother, "I think it is."

"And I think," said Bella, "that the littlest scholar ought to have the easiest things to do."

Mary Erskine laughed, and said that in schools, those things were not done that seemed best to the scholars, but those that seemed best to the teachers.

"Then," said Mary Bell, "why must not you write marks."

Mary Erskine laughed still more at this, and said she acknowledged that the children had got her penned up in a corner.

"Now," said Mary Erskine, "are you ready to begin; because when you once begin, you must not speak a word till the half hour is out."

"Yes," said the children, "we are ready."

"Then begin," said Mary Erskine.

The children began with great gravity and silence, each at her separate task, while Mary Erskine went on with her own regular employment. The silence continued unbroken for about five minutes, when Bella laid down her chalk in a despairing manner, saying,

"O dear me! I can't make a a."

"There's one basket of chips," said Mary Erskine.

"Why I really can't," said Bella, "I have tried three times."

"Two baskets of chips," said her mother. "Make two marks on the corner of your board," she continued, "and every time you speak put down another, so that we can remember how many baskets of chips you have to pick up."

Bella looked rather disconsolate at receiving this direction. She knew, however, that she must obey. She was also well aware that she would certainly have to pick up as many baskets of chips as should be indicated by the line of chalk marks. She, therefore, resumed her work, inwardly resolving that she would not speak another word. All this time, Mary Bell went on with her drawing, without apparently paying any attention to the conversation between Bella and her mother.

Bella went on, too, herself after this, very attentively, making the letters which had been assigned her for her lesson, and calling the names of them as she made them, but not speaking any words.

At length Mary Erskine told the children that the half hour had expired, and that they were at liberty. Bella jumped up and ran away to play. Mary Bell wished to remain and finish her house. Mary Erskine went to look at it. She compared it very attentively with the original in the picture-book, and observed several places in which Mary Bell had deviated from her pattern. She did not, however, point out any of these faults to Mary Bell, but simply said that she had done her work very well indeed. She had made a very pretty house. Mary Bell said that it was not quite finished, and she wished to remain at her desk a little longer to complete it. Mary Erskine gave her leave to do so.

Bella, who had gone away at first, dancing to the door, pleased to be released from her confinement, came back to see Mary Bell's picture, while her mother was examining it. She seemed very much pleased with it indeed. Then she asked her mother to look at her letters upon the board. Mary Erskine and Mary Bell both looked at them, one by one, very attentively, and compared them with the letters which Mary Bell had made for patterns, and also with specimens of the letters in the books. Bella took great interest in looking for the letters in the book, much pleased to find that she knew them wherever she saw them. Her mother, too, learned a and b very effectually by this examination of Bella's work. Mary Erskine selected the two best letters which Bella had made, one of each kind, and rubbed out all the rest with a cloth. She then put up the board in a conspicuous place upon a shelf, where the two good letters could be seen by all in the room. Bella was much pleased at this, and she came in from her play several times in the course of the day, to look at her letters and to call them by name.

When Bella's board had thus been put up in its conspicuous position, Mary Bell sat down to finish her drawing, while Bella went out to pick up her two baskets of chips. Mary Bell worked upon her house for nearly the whole of another half hour. When it was finished she cut the part of the paper which it was drawn upon off from the rest, and ruled around it a neat margin of double black lines. She obtained a narrow strip of wood, from the shop which served her as a ruler. She said that she meant to have all her drawing lessons of the same size, and to put the same margin around them. She marked her house No. 1, writing the numbering in a small but plain hand on one corner. She wrote the initials of her, name, M.B., in the same small hand, on the opposite corner.

Mary Erskine did not attempt her lesson until the evening. She finished her work about the house a little after eight o'clock, and then she undressed the children and put them to bed. By this time it was nearly nine o'clock. The day had been warm and pleasant, but the nights at this season were cool, and Mary Erskine put two or three dry sticks upon the fire, before she commenced her work, partly for the warmth, and partly for the cheerfulness of the blaze.

She lighted her lamp, and sat down at her work-table, with Mary Bell's copy, and her pen, ink, and paper, before her. The copy had been pinned up in sight all the day, and she had very often examined it, when passing it, in going to and fro at her work. She had thus learned the names of all the letters in the word Mary, and had made herself considerably familiar with the forms of them; so that she not only knew exactly what she had to do in writing the letters, but she felt a strong interest in doing it. She, however, made extremely awkward work in her first attempts at writing the letters. She, nevertheless, steadily persevered. She wrote the words, first in separate letters, and then afterwards in a joined hand, again and again, going down the paper. She found that she could write a little more easily, if not better, as she proceeded,—but still the work was very hard. At ten o'clock her paper was covered with what she thought were miserable scrawls, and her wrist and her fingers ached excessively. She put her work away, and prepared to go to bed.

"Perhaps I shall have to give it up after all," said she. "But I will not give up till I am beaten. I will write an hour every day for six months, and then if I can not write my name so that people can read it, I will stop."

The next day about an hour after breakfast Mary Erskine had another school for the children. Bella took the two next letters c and d for her lesson, while Mary Bell took the swing hanging from the branch of the tree in the picture-book, for the subject of her second drawing. Before beginning her work, she studied all the touches by which the drawing was made in the book, with great attention and care, in order that she might imitate them as precisely as possible. She succeeded very well indeed in this second attempt. The swing made even a prettier picture than the house. When it was finished she cut the paper out, of the same size with the other, drew a border around it, and marked it No. 2. She went on in this manner every day as long as she remained at Mary Erskine's, drawing a new picture every day. At last, when she went home, Mary Erskine put all her drawings up together, and Mary Bell carried them home to show them to her mother. This was the beginning of Mary Bell's drawing.

As for Mary Erskine, her second lesson was the word Erskine, which she found a great deal harder to write than Mary. There was one thing, however, that pleased her in it, which was that there was one letter which she knew already, having learned it in Mary: that was the r. All the rest of the letters, however, were new, and she had to practice writing the word two evenings before she could write it well, without looking at the copy. She then thought that probably by that time she had forgotten Mary; but on trying to write that word, she was very much pleased to find that she could write it much more easily than she could before. This encouraged her, and she accordingly took Forester for her third lesson without any fear of forgetting the Mary and the Erskine.

The Forester lesson proved to be a very easy one. There were only three new letters in it, and those three were very easy to write. In fine, at the end of the four days, when Mary Bell was to go home, Mary Erskine could read, write, and spell her name very respectably well.

Mrs. Bell came herself for Mary when the time of her visit expired. She was very much pleased to learn how good a girl and how useful her daughter had been. She was particularly pleased with her drawings. She said that she had been very desirous to have Mary learn to draw, but that she did not know it was possible to make so good a beginning without a teacher.

"Why I had a teacher," said Mary Bell. "I think that Mary Erskine is a teacher; and a very good one besides."

"I think so too," said Mrs. Bell.

The children went out to get some wild flowers for Mary Bell to carry home, and Mrs. Bell then asked Mary if she had begun to consider what it was best for her to do.

"Yes," said Mary Erskine. "I think it will be best for me to sell the farm, and the new house, and all the stock, and live here in this house with my children."

Mrs. Bell did not answer, but seemed to be thinking whether this would be the best plan or not.

"The children cannot go to school from here," said Mrs. Bell.

"No," said Mary Erskine, "but I can teach them myself, I think, till they are old enough to walk to the school-house. I find that I can learn the letters faster than Bella can, and that without interfering with my work; and Mary Bell will come out here now and then and tell us what we don't know."

"Yes," said Mrs. Bell, "I shall be glad to have her come as often as you wish. But it seems to me that you had better move into the village. Half the money that the farm and the stock will sell for, will buy you a very pleasant house in the village, and the interest on the other half, together with what you can earn, will support you comfortably."

"Yes," said Mary Erskine, "but then I should be growing poorer, rather than richer, all the time; and when my children grow large, and I want the money for them, I shall find that I have spent it all. Now if I stay here in this house, I shall have no rent to pay, nor shall I lose the interest of a part of my money, as I should if I were to buy a house in the village with it to live in myself. I can earn enough here too by knitting, and by spinning and weaving, for all that we shall want while the children are young. I can keep a little land with this house, and let Thomas, or some other such boy live with me, and raise such things as we want to eat; and so I think I can get along very well, and put out all the money which I get from the farm and the stock, at interest. In ten or fifteen years it will be two thousand dollars. Then I shall be rich, and can move into the village without any danger.

"Not two thousand dollars!" said Mrs. Bell.

"Yes," said Mary Erskine, "if I have calculated it right."

"Why, how much do you think the farm and stock will sell for?" asked Mrs. Bell.

"About eight hundred dollars," said Mary Erskine. "That put out at interest will double in about twelve years."

"Very well," rejoined Mrs. Bell, "but that makes only sixteen hundred dollars."

"But then I think that I can lay up half a dollar a week of my own earnings, especially when Bella gets a little bigger so as to help me about the house," said Mary Erskine.

"Well;" said Mrs. Bell.

"That," continued Mary Erskine, "will be twenty-five dollars a year. Which will be at least three hundred dollars in twelve years."

"Very well," said Mrs. Bell, "that makes nineteen hundred."

"Then," continued Mary Erskine, "I thought that at the end of the twelve years I should be able to sell this house and the land around it for a hundred dollars, especially if I take good care of the buildings in the mean while."

"And that makes your two thousand dollars," said Mrs. Bell.

"Yes," replied Mary Erskine.

"But suppose you are sick."

"Oh, if I am sick, or if I die," rejoined Mary Erskine, "of course that breaks up all my plans. I know I can't plan against calamities."

"Well," said Mrs. Bell, rising from her seat with a smile of satisfaction upon her countenance, "I can't advise you. But if ever I get into any serious trouble, I shall come to you to advise me."

So bidding Mary Erskine good-bye, Mrs. Bell called her daughter, and they went together toward their home.


CHAPTER IX.

GOOD MANAGEMENT.

Whenever any person dies, leaving property to be divided among his heirs, and not leaving any valid will to determine the mode of division, the property as has already been said, must be divided on certain principles, established by the law of the land, and under the direction of the Judge of Probate, who has jurisdiction over the county in which the property is situated. The Judge of Probate appoints a person to take charge of the property and divide it among the heirs. This person is called the administrator, or, if a woman, the administratrix. The Judge gives the administrator or the administratrix a paper, which authorises him or her to take charge of the property, which paper is called, "Letters of Administration." The letters of administration are usually granted to the wife of the deceased, or to his oldest son, or, if there is no wife or son, to the nearest heir who is of proper age and discretion to manage the trust. The person who receives administration is obliged to take a solemn oath before the Judge of Probate, that he will report to the Judge a full account of all the property that belonged to the deceased which shall come to his knowledge. The Judge also appoints three persons to go and examine the property, and make an inventory of it, and appraise every article, so as to know as nearly as possible, how much and what property there is. These persons are called appraisers. The inventory which they make out is lodged in the office of the Judge of Probate, where any person who has an interest in the estate can see it at any time. The administrator usually keeps a copy of the inventory besides.

If among the property left by a person deceased, which is to go in part to children, there are any houses and lands,—a kind of property which is called in law real estate, to distinguish it from moveable property, which is called personal estate,—such real estate cannot be sold, in ordinary cases, by the administrator, without leave from the Judge of Probate. This leave the Judge of Probate will give in cases where it is clearly best for the children that the property should be so sold and the avails of it kept for them, rather than the property itself. All these things Mrs. Bell explained to Mary Erskine, having learned about them herself some years before when her own husband died.

Accordingly, a few weeks after Albert died, Mary Erskine went one day in a wagon, taking the baby with her, and Thomas to drive, to the county town, where the Probate court was held.

At the Probate court, Mary Erskine made all the arrangements necessary in respect to the estate. She had to go twice, in fact, before all these arrangements were completed. She expected to have a great deal of trouble and embarrassment in doing this business, but she did not find that there was any trouble at all. The Judge of Probate told her exactly what to do. She was required to sign her name once or twice to papers. This she did with great trepidation, and after writing her name, on the first occasion which occurred requiring her signature, she apologized for not being able to write any better. The Judge of Probate said that very few of the papers that he received were signed so well.

Mary Erskine was appointed administratrix, and the Judge gave her a paper which he said was her "Letters of Administration." What the Judge gave to her seemed to be only one paper, but she thought it probable, as the Judge said "Letters" that there was another inside. When she got home, however, and opened the paper she found that there was only one. She could not read it herself, her studies having yet extended no farther than to the writing of her name. The first time, however, that Mary Bell came to see her, after she received this document, she asked Mary Bell to read it to her. Mary Bell did so, but after she had got through, Mary Erskine said that she could not understand one word of it from beginning to end. Mary Bell said that that was not strange, for she believed that lawyers' papers were only meant for lawyers to understand.

The appraisers came about this time to make an inventory of the property. They went all over the house and barns, and took a complete account of every thing that they found. They made a list of all the oxen, sheep, cows, horses, and other animals, putting down opposite to each one, their estimate of its value. They did the same with the vehicles, and farming implements, and utensils, and also with all the household furniture, and the provisions and stores. When they had completed the appraisement they added up the amount, and found that the total was a little over four hundred dollars, Mary Erskine was very much surprised to find that there was so much.

The appraisers then told Mary Erskine that half of that property was hers, and the other half belonged to the children; and that as much of their half as was necessary for their support could be used for that purpose, and the rest must be paid over to them when they became of age. They said also that she or some one else must be appointed their guardian, to take care of their part of the property; and that the guardian could either keep the property as it was, or sell it and keep the money as she thought would be most for the interest of the children; and that she had the same power in respect to her own share.

Mary Erskine said that she thought it would be best for her to sell the stock and farming tools, because she could not take care of them nor use them, and she might put the money out at interest. The appraisers said they thought so too.

In the end, Mary Erskine was appointed guardian. The idea appeared strange to her at first of being appointed guardian to her own children, as it seemed to her that a mother naturally and necessarily held that relation to her offspring. But the meaning of the law, in making a mother the guardian of her children by appointment in such a case as this, is simply to authorize her to take care of property left to them, or descending to them. It is obvious that cases must frequently occur in which a mother, though the natural guardian of her children so far as the personal care of them is concerned, would not be properly qualified to take charge of any considerable amount of property coming to them. When the mother is qualified to take this charge, she can be duly authorized to do it; and this is the appointment to the guardianship—meaning the guardianship of the property to which the appointment refers.

Mary Erskine was accordingly appointed guardian of the children, and she obtained leave to sell the farm. She decided that it would be best to sell it as she thought, after making diligent enquiry, that she could not depend on receiving any considerable annual rent for it, if she were to attempt to let it. She accordingly sold the farm, with the new house, and all the stock,—excepting that she reserved from the farm ten acres of land around her own house, and one cow, one horse, two pigs, and all the poultry. She also reserved all the household furniture. These things she took as a part of her portion. The purchase money for all the rest amounted to nine hundred and fifty dollars. This sum was considerably more than Mary Erskine had expected to receive.

The question now was what should be done with this money. There are various modes which are adopted for investing such sums so as to get an annual income from them. The money may be lent to some person who will take it and pay interest for it. A house may be bought and let to some one who wishes to hire it; or shares in a rail-road, or a bank, or a bridge, may be taken. Such kinds of property as those are managed by directors, who take care of all the profits that are made, and twice a year divide the money among the persons that own the shares.

Mary Erskine had a great deal of time for enquiry and reflection in respect to the proper mode of investing her money, for the man who purchased the farm and the stock was not to pay the money immediately. The price agreed upon for the farm, including of course the new house, was five hundred dollars. The stock, farming utensils, &c, which he took with it, came to three hundred and sixty dollars. The purchaser was to pay, of this money, four hundred dollars in three months, and the balance in six months. Mary Erskine, therefore, had to make provision for investing the four hundred dollars first.

She determined, after a great deal of consideration and inquiry, to lay out this money in buying four shares in the Franconia bridge. These shares were originally one hundred dollars each, but the bridge had become so profitable on account of the number of persons that passed it, and the amount of money which was consequently collected for tolls, that the shares would sell for a hundred and ten dollars each. This ten dollars advance over the original price of the shares, is called premium. Upon the four shares which Mary Erskine was going to buy, the premium would be of course forty dollars. This money Mary Erskine concluded to borrow. Mr. Keep said that he would very gladly lend it to her. Her plan was to pay the borrowed money back out of the dividends which she would receive from her bridge shares. The dividend was usually five per centum, or, as they commonly called it, five per cent., that is, five dollars on every share of a hundred dollars every six months.[A] The dividend on the four shares would, of course, be twenty dollars, so that it would take two dividends to pay off the forty dollar debt to Mr. Keep, besides a little interest. When this was done, Mary Erskine would have property in the bridge worth four hundred and forty dollars, without having used any more than four hundred dollars of her farm money, and she would continue to have forty dollars a year from it, as long as she kept it in her possession.