HESTER'S MOTTO.

Southland Times, Issue 690, 1 July 1867, Page 3

HESTER'S MOTTO.

In an old house beside a wood lived a motherless girl. Her father loved her dearly, but he was a grave, studious man, who sat all day in his musty library. Therefore he was not much of a companion for his little daughter; and as Hester was a good child, who could be trusted, she had much her own way in roaming about the ancient rooms or quiet woodland avenues. One day, at Christmas-time, a hard frost set in. A great fire was lit in the library, and the master sat before it with a huge book on his knees. He read a great deal about wars and famines, and sufferings caused for a time by new inventions ; he loved to think of these things, and ponder how they could be prevented. Presently Hester stole in, and crept to his side, and he put his arm round her, and thought what a comfortable little woman she looked in her bright tartan dress, with quite a fine colour in her cheeks, as if she did not feel the cold at all. " Where have you been, Hester ?" he asked. "I have been running through the wood," she answered " sprinkling crumbs for the poor little birds, who can get nothing to eat while this weather lasts." " That was a kind girl," said her father ; " but it was not much good, Hester. You may save one or two, but think how many will perish in other great forests where no one notices them." "I suppose they must," she replied, musingly , " but if every one helped those near them, they wouldn't. Let me do what I can, father. The father kissed her, and told her she was a kind child, and might go and get another lot to sprinkle about the wood. When she was gone, he sat and thought ; a little while, and then he summond his housekeeper, and bade her go to the village and enquire who was in urgent need, and provide them bread and fuel, and any little comfort which might suit particular cases. Time passed on, and Hester grew from childhood into youth, and spent more time with her father in the library, where they read and talked together for hours. Once some new books came from London, and among them was one full of sad stories of poor ignorant children, who had never heard of God, except in curses, and who did not know they had immortal souls. Hester sat and wept, as her father read the dark history; and when he had finished, she pursued her needlework for a long while, without speaking. " Father," she said, at last, in a sudden, clear voice, as if afraid her courage would fail if she hesitated a moment, "if you will let me use that great empty room beyond the dairy, I could have some of the village children here on Sundays — and perhaps once or twice in the week — and teach.them to read, and tell them the beautiful words of the Bible." " Hester, my child," he replied, "it would be hard work for you ; and yet, what are one or two poor children from a village? Think of the swarming factories ! The responsibility rests with their owners." "But I am not near a factory," said I Heater, coaxingly, " only a Tillage* But |&tbsr ? w&sa Otoiafc praise the yoism

with the ointment, he did not say that she had done all that might .-have been done, but he said, ' She hath done what she could.' " - And the father yielded, and Heßter had her school. . Years passed by, and the master of the old house was buried in the abbey church, and his daughter had to leave the quaint mansion, and the dear old woods. She" had plenty of money ; but she could not inherit her father's lands, because she was a girl. . And every one wondered very much that she chose to go to the heart of a great smoky, manufacturing town. She had not been long there when trouble came. There was war abroad, and famine and pestilence at home, Bnd starving people clamoured for bread in the streets. From her own windows Hester saw the fearful mobs, with rage and hunger written on their wild faces, and her heart ached to read the bitter scorn and cold exhortations of those who sat in high places, far from the misery and pain, In the same newspaper she read of broad lands accross the sea, where fertile acres were waiting for busy hands to plough and cultivate them. At last her mind was made. She would give up ail ncr iuh.-u.jliv,, r j. ■ .^l.^4. would suffice for her simplest maintenance, and devote it to taking some of the starving crowds to the far-off countries which wanted them. Of course she met with opposition. When she consulted with the gentleman who managed her affairs, he said, " Why give up your property now ? Let me draw up a will, directing it to be so used when you are dead, and that will make you a great benefactor." " No," she replied. " People are starving now ; and besides, I should like to see what good my money does. That will be the best investment for me." " Well," said he*, " I should not grudge such a sacrifice if it would help all these miserable people, but it will only be like taking a cup of water from the ocean." " I know it is very little;" she answered, humbly ; " but, you see,, it is ail I can do." And it was done. Hester's few friends heard only that she had "gone abroad ;" and the emigrants did -not know what they owed to the gentle, cheerful lady, who did so much to cheer their outward voyage. They settled in a beautiful region of the "New World, and she lived among them, taught the children, nursed the sick, and helped everybody. When she grew old,she spent her Christmasses in great, jovial farmhouses, almost as snug and far more merry than the old house beside the wood ; and she had many pleasant gifts from those who knew they owed her much, but never knew they owed her all. And then she died. And the pastor of the little flock, who knew nothing of her history beyond her unceasing devotion to the good of his people, wrote on her grave^ the text, which was even more appropriate than he knew — " She hath done what she could."