ADVENTURES OF A SIXPENCE IN GUERNSEY. BY A NATIVE. SEELEY, JACKSON, AND HALLIDAY, FLEET STREET; AND B. SEELEY, HANOVER STREET. LONDON. MDCCCLVII. Printed by G. BARCLAY, Castle St. Leicester Sq. [Illustration: Frontispiece] ADVENTURES OF A SIXPENCE IN GUERNSEY. The breakfast was ready laid on the table, and a gentleman was standingby the fire waiting for the rest of the family, when the door burstopen, and two little girls ran in. "A happy new year, papa!--a happy new year!" shouted each as she wascaught up to be kissed, and found herself on the floor once more after asudden whirl to the ceiling. "Now catch, " said their father, as he started aside and flung a sixpenceto each. Of course they did not catch, for little girls have a strangepropensity for turning just the wrong way on such occasions; but thebright new sixpences were none the duller for their fall, and calledforth none the less admiration from their proud owners. Many were the calculations which passed through those curly heads duringbreakfast-time as to what a sixpence could buy; and it was with manybright visions that they darted away to be dressed to go into the townwith their mother. It was New-year's day; but there was no snow, no bitter cold wind, nobeggars shivering in their scanty clothing, none of the scenes ofpoverty which those accustomed only to an English winter might expect tocast a gloom over the enjoyment of the day. It was a bright sunnymorning, every leaf sparkling with dew-drops; groups of neatly-dressedpeople were to be seen flocking in from the country in every direction;and though the air was fresh enough to incline them to walk brisklyalong, their hands were not hidden away in muffs and coat-pockets, butwere ready for the friendly shake which, with "all the good wishes ofthe season, " awaited them at every step. Mrs. Campbell and her little girls, after many a greeting of this kind, found their way into the town at last; and the children soon forgoteverything in the twelfth-cakes which adorned the pastry-cooks' windows, till the sixpence, which was tightly clasped in each little hand, recalled them to their errand, and they joined the busy crowd in thetoy-shop. Who does not know what it is to take a child into these abodesof Noah's arks, cats, dogs, mice, and dolls, and all that is socharming? How each toy is seized on in its turn, to be relinquished in amoment for one more beautiful! It was no easy task that Mrs. Campbellhad undertaken; but at last, in a moment of ecstasy over two blue-eyeddolls, the sixpences were paid, and the young purchasers drawn away fromfurther temptation. And we, too, must wish them good-by, with the hopethat the next new year may find them bright and happy still, and thatbefore many more have passed over them they will have learnt a wiser anda better way of spending their father's gift; a way in which theirsixpence, though it be but a sixpence, will be returned in tenfoldblessings on their heads. It is with one of the little pieces of silver which have just rung inthe till that we have to do. It had lain there for about two hours, thesame scenes going on around it which we have witnessed with its owner ofthe morning, when a tall moustachioed young man entered the shop, whichwas not exclusively devoted to toys, and asked to be shown some goldpencil-cases. His choice was soon made, the money paid, and our friendthe Sixpence received in change. Ah, Sixpence! what sort of hands haveyou fallen into now? We have undertaken to follow your fortunes for atime, and therefore, uncomfortable as our quarters may be, we must takeup our abode with you in Captain Crawford's waistcoat-pocket, and gowhere he pleases to lead us. Up High Street and Smith Street to GrangeRoad, where we mount and away from houses and streets and thefashionable world; among the fields and hedges, just decking themselveswith Daisies and Celandines, and every now and then, at the top of themany little hills which the road crosses, comes a peep of the brightblue sea, from which, go where we will, we can never get very far awayin Guernsey. After a short ride, Captain Crawford pulled up his horse, and giving it into the care of a boy who answered his call, he walkeddown an avenue to a pretty rose-covered house, which he entered, andmade his way to the drawing-room. "Well, my little one, what have you been about all the morning?" was hisgreeting as he opened the door to a delicate-looking girl who lay on thesofa. "Oh, Edward!" she answered, "I was just wishing for you. I feel ratherbetter than usual to-day, and mamma says I may take a turn in thegarden. I was only waiting for your arm. Will you ring for my bonnet?" "Look, here is a New-year's gift for you, Ellen, " said her brother, taking the gold pencil-case out of his pocket and hanging it on herchain. "Oh! thanks--thanks, Edward!" she said warmly, as she pulled his headdown to her, and threw her arms round his neck; "My own brother, howgood of you! this is just what I wanted. " "I never yet knew you have anything which was not _just_ what youwanted, Ellen. Is there anything in the world you wish for now?" "No, I am very happy. You none of you give me an opportunity of wishingfor anything; as soon as I wish, I have it. You all spoil me. " "I know what I wish, " said her brother; "and that is, that I had yoursecret of finding everything so very comfortable. What is it, littleone?" He had seated himself by her side, and was stroking the hair back fromher forehead, while she lay in quiet enjoyment of his gentle touch; buton hearing his last question she raised her large dark eyes, fixing themearnestly on his face for one moment, but without speaking. She was soonready for her walk, and, leaning on her brother's arm, let him halfcarry half lead her out. "Let us go to the gate, Edward, " she said, when they reached the door;"the children will be coming out of school, and I may see some of mylittle friends. " They walked very slowly, and neither spoke for a few moments, till Ellensaid, in rather a hurried tone, "I was wrong just now when I told you Inever wished for anything; there is one thing I want very much, andwhich you can never give me. " "What is it?" asked her brother. "To be able to live over again the twenty years of health which havejust passed from me, and to have again all the money I spent in thattime. " "Why, my dear Ellen, " said Captain Crawford gaily, "you are the lastperson in the world to say anything of the sort. I am sure the greatestpleasure of your days of health was to take puddings and sixpences toold women; and if that is not a satisfactory way of spending one's timeand money, I don't know what is. But really, Ellen, " he said, moreseriously, as he saw her grave face, "I do not see what reason you haveto blame yourself, after such a life as yours has been. I should havethought the recollection of it would now have been your greatestcomfort; and that, after taking care of others for so long, you mightenjoy being taken care of yourself now. But, my little one! what is thematter?" Ellen had stopped, and, with her head resting on his shoulder, wassobbing violently. "Edward, don't!" she said, as soon as she could command herself; "Ican't bear it! Think of the handsome allowance papa makes me, and howlittle of it has been well spent! And then, what was given away did notdo a quarter of the good it might have done, because I did not go andgive it myself, and kind words with it, which are far more comfortingthan food or money. And if you will believe me, Edward, extravagancehas become such a habit with me, that though I resolved last quarter tobe economical and save up something for the new church, I had hardlyanything left at the end of it. It is true I did teach at the school alittle, and visit a few people, but what is that compared to what Iought to have done?" By this time they had reached the gate, and Ellen, drying her tears, wassoon talking almost merrily with the children, who ran up eagerly at thesight of their former teacher. Edward had forgotten the little GuernseyFrench he had once known, and stood by, glad to see his favourite sisterso happy; but wondering what pleasure she could find in talking to a setof dirty little things like those. Captain Crawford called them dirty, because most officers in her Majesty's service, if they think on thesubject at all, think rags and dirtiness necessary attendants on poorchildren; but if Captain Crawford had looked, he would have seen asclean and _neat_ a flock of little ones around his sister as the UnitedKingdom could produce. Just as they were going to return to the house a man passed by, andtouched his hat to Miss Crawford in the somewhat off-hand manner which(we must confess it) our fellow-countrymen usually employ. Ellen stoppeda moment to make some inquiries of him about his wife and children, andthen turned home-wards, saying, as she took her brother's arm, -- "I dare say a good dinner would do that man's daughter a world of good;she is ill, and they are very poor: but then there is no way of sendingit. " "Where do they live?" asked Edward. "Oh, it is half-an-hour's walk: they live close to the beach. " "I'll take it, " said he; and added, by way of apology, "I should ratherlike a walk before dinner. " A happy gleam passed over Ellen's face, but she only said, -- "Thank you, Edward, " and gave him one very bright look, when he left heron her sofa and went to fetch some meat for the sick girl. It was with feelings of amusement, rather than anything else, thatEdward set out on what was probably the first errand of mercy he hadever undertaken. He had done it merely to please his sister, and couldnot help laughing at the idea of what some of his brother-officers wouldsay if they could see Crawford of the ---- Regiment carrying food to asick girl. But his conversation with Ellen soon returned to his mind, and the thought struck him, "If my good, unselfish little sister, thinksher time and money have been wasted, what have mine been? According toher, the sixpence which I have occasionally thrown to a beggar to quietmy conscience was only half charity, because I did not add 'kind words, 'as she would say. But I wonder what people would say if I were toinquire after the birth, parentage, and education of everystreet-sweeper I came across? No, my vocation is to defend my Queen andcountry, and not to act the charitable. " Something whispered, "Cannotyou do both?" but Edward would not listen, and soon arrived at hisdestination. The door was opened by the sick girl's mother, who, withher "_Bon jour, monsieur! Entrez, s'il vous plait_, " took Edward ratherby surprise, and would by no means hear of receiving the gift outsidethe door. This was more than he had bargained for; he had come on amessage from Ellen, not for a charitable visit on her own account: butthere was no alternative, and go in he must. The woman spoke a littleEnglish; and while she poured forth her gratitude to Miss Crawford, together with a long account of her daughter's maladies, saying so muchin one breath that it became a question whether she would ever breatheagain, Captain Crawford looked at the sick girl lying pale and thin bythe fire; and when he thought how miserable her lot was compared evenwith his sister's, whose sufferings were soothed by all that affectioncould suggest or that money could buy, his heart--for he had a heart, and a warm one too--was touched, and his hand went to the waistcoatpocket where the sixpence had been deposited in the morning. He wasdisappointed to find so little there, and wondered whether it was worthgiving her. "If Ellen were here to add some of her 'kind words, '" hethought, it might do very well; "however, I'll try. " Next time Mrs. Tourtel stopped to take breath he went and stood by thepoor girl, and said, -- "Miss Crawford is ill too and cannot come to see you, but she oftenthinks of you. Perhaps this will buy you a small loaf of white bread, asyour mother says you cannot eat brown. " She only said, "_Mercie, monsieur_;" but the bright colour, which spreaditself over her pale face at the mention of Ellen's thought of her, toldEdward that he had said the right thing; and with a gentle "Good-by, Ihope you will soon be better, " he left the cottage. He walked fast withhis head bent, as if to hide his face; but we must run after him, andhave a peep at it. He is smiling, and--can it be?--he is blushing!Captain Crawford, who never turned pale before the Russians at Alma orInkermann, is now blushing scarlet before his own approving conscienceand the gratitude of a sick girl. The smile and blush were not gone whenhe reached home, and Ellen saw both and smiled too, but wisely saidnothing. The ice on Edward's heart was broken; a few "kind words" hadflowed out and melted it. He went to sleep that night, and dreamed thatangels were saying "kind words" to him; Ellen went to sleep, too, anddreamed of her brother reading the Bible to the dying on a battle-field;and the sick girl lay awake all night, thinking how good it was of MissCrawford to think of her, and how good of the Captain to tell her so. The Sixpence had done a good day's work; had a shilling been in itsplace, it would probably have failed in accomplishing it; and CaptainCrawford, thinking money the best way to the heart of the poor, wouldnever have tasted the joy of soothing sad hearts by kindness. Alas!little Sixpence, that you who have been such a blessing to-day, shouldbecome a curse to-morrow; that you who have gone forth on errands ofmercy to-day, should dwell in scenes of drunkenness and theft to-morrow! Early next morning Mrs. Tourtel went to market, and left the Sixpenceat a baker's shop in payment for a white loaf for her daughter. There itspent the day--a quiet day--broken by few events. It might have seen thefresh bread taken out of the oven, and packed in the cart which waitedat the door to receive it; and it might have seen many people bustle inand out of the shop, from the little child to buy a penny loaf, to thegentleman's housekeeper to pay the week's bill; but it remainedundisturbed till the shutters were taken down on the following morning, when a man came to buy a small loaf for his breakfast, and received theSixpence in change. Appearances were far more against it this time thanthey had been before. John Barker had an unshaved beard, a scowling eye, and a red face; his dress consisted of a blue woollen shirt, coarse bluetrousers grimed in mud, and a low-crowned black hat; on his shoulder hecarried a spade and pickaxe. As he walked along he was joined by othersof an equally unprepossessing appearance, and found many more alreadyassembled at the scene of their labours--the new harbour. The sun was not yet risen, and a mist hung over the sea, through whichthe signal-post at Castle Cornet, and the masts of the vessels in theroads, were the only objects visible; but there was a faint red streakin the sky, which grew brighter and brighter every moment, till thesunrise gun fired; and then the mist changed into a golden veil, whichfloated insensibly away, leaving every geranium-leaf outside the windowswhite with hoar-frost, just to tantalise the townsfolk more distantislands became just visible, mingling the blue of the sea and the violetof the sky so mysteriously in their delicate colouring, that they werescarcely distinguishable from either. And then the carts began to rollalong the quay, and work commenced on board the ships in the harbour, and the sailors' cry as they hoisted the sails, mingled with therattling of chains and the creaking of the cranes outside the stores. Atabout nine o'clock up ran the ball at the signal-post, which announcedthe approach of the mail-boat, and as she steamed behind the Castle, andanchored in the roads, there were hasty embraces and shakes of the handon the pier, and the passengers were rowed out to embark. A few minutes, and the tinkling of a bell was heard from the shore; another--one more;her wheels were turning, she was off for Southampton, and the passengersfrom Jersey were landing at the quay. All this, and much more, might John Barker have seen, and probably hedid see it, but found nothing beautiful or exciting in it. He did nothold his breath as that cutter approached and ran between thepier-heads, her sail dipping in the wave which bore her in. He saw it adozen times that day, and had seen it a hundred times before, but nevercared to see it again. He worked sullenly on, exchanging few words withhis fellow-labourers, till the twilight compelled them to shoulder theirtools; and they then made their way, alas! to the many public-housesnear, and one of them we must enter with John Barker, and see theSixpence, that little messenger of good--that talent committed to hiscare--far worse than wasted by its responsible owner. Happily, thepayment was not long delayed, and glad shall we be to hide our eyes andstop our ears from all that goes on without in the till with our littlefriend. It is about midnight, the noisy guests are gone, the people of the houseare in bed, and we may now venture forth from our hiding-place to lookthrough the chink in the door. It is a clear frosty night. The moon, just rising, is brightly reflected in the water. The stars are lookingsilently down on the sleeping town. Castle Cornet rises gloomily out ofthe sea. The moonlit sky, which shows us its outline only, leaves muchto the imagination. We may fancy it a frowning fortress of modern days;or we may go back two hundred years, and think we see the ruin whichtold of its nine-years' siege. But we would rather think of CastleCornet as we know it now, with its old keep standing as a monument ofbygone days; or better still, we would thank the rising moon for veilingit in such solemn mystery, and would let our fancy share the rest whichseems to pervade all around, while we enjoy the perfect stillness. Thereis not a sound, except the ripple of the water. Houses, streets, ships, men, women, and children, all seem resting peacefully in the silentnight. But, hark! there was a sound of cracking from the window! Againand again we hear it, and whispering too outside. A few moments more, and the window is opened, and two men have crept in. They are some ofthe guests of the evening come to recover thus what they and theircompanions have wasted here to-night, that they may have it to wasteonce more. The till was quickly rifled, and at a slight noise overheadthe thieves beat a precipitate retreat, and, in their haste, dropped ourSixpence in the street outside. Happy little Sixpence! to have escapedsuch hands; better to lie on the cold, hard pavement, curtained by thefreezing air, than stay to be used as the fruits of theft invariablyare. It was only just light when a little girl, whose rosy cheeks told thatthe country air had kissed them that morning, passed by with a basket onher arm nearly as big as herself. Her bright eyes soon spied the littlepiece of money, and with a dart she caught it up; but, like an honestgirl, looked round to see if any one had dropped it. There was nobodynear but a dirty, good-tempered-looking coalheaver, who, seeing herperplexity, said, "It must have been there all night, for nobody but mehas passed this morning; so you may keep it, if you like. " Quitecontent, she tripped away with her basket to join her mother in themarket, and tell of her good fortune. Being a wise little maiden, Mary Falla did not spend her money that day, but took it home all safe and sound, to gain time for consideration onso important a subject. No selfish thoughts mingled with hercalculations, and therefore she very soon came to the decision that itshould go towards a pair of stockings for her grandmother; and happy inthe hope of giving pleasure, she only longed for the accumulation of alittle store sufficient to buy the necessary materials, and enable herto begin her work. But even sixpences are not to be picked up every day, and when a month had passed, only one penny had been added to the fund. Just at this time there was a sermon one Sunday morning for the same newchurch of which Miss Crawford had spoken to her brother. Mrs. Falla wasone of the few who were to be found regularly in their places inchurch; and Mary, who was always with her mother, heard the sermon. Wecannot boast of our little heroine that she always listened to thesermon; sometimes she did not understand it, sometimes she did not findit interesting; but this sermon she did find interesting, and liked verymuch, for it was about a church which she saw every day of her life; andit told how much the church was wanted by sick and old people who couldnot reach the parish church; and Mary knew she liked to go to church, and was very sorry for her old grandmother, and many others whom she hadheard regret the distance. As they walked home she seemed to havesomething very interesting to think about, for she dropped behind, andkept her eyes fixed on the ground in a manner most unusual with thismerry little maiden; at last, however, she settled the question to herown satisfaction, and ran up to her mother, -- "_Ma mère_, don't you think I had better give my sixpence to the newchurch? Grandmother would rather have a church near to go to, than apair of stockings next winter, I'm sure; and it would do good to so manyother people besides. " "As you like, _ma chère_, " answered her mother: "it is your own money. " Not many days after this, there was a knock at the door after Mary hadreturned from school, and Captain Crawford entered, now no stranger inthe cottages round, for the last few weeks had worked a wonderful changein this respect. The first time he did a kindness to the poor, it wasbecause he could not help it; the second time it was because he hadfound it pleasant; but the third time there was a shade of anothermotive mingling with it. Ellen had told him why she was always happy;she had told him where he might learn the way to be happy too betterthan she could teach him. He had taken her advice, had read the Bible, and now was humbly endeavouring to obey its commands; and in conformityto his sister's entreaty, not to misspend his days of health, scarcely aday was now permitted to pass without his doing something for the goodof his fellow-creatures. He always told the poor that he was come on amessage from his sister, lest they should be inclined to be grateful tohim, and make him blush, as the sick girl had done. Some questioned, however, whether Miss Crawford told him always to add a franc or two tothe gift which she sent; or whether Miss Crawford dictated to him allthe "kind words" which now made him so welcome a visitor; and when theold blind man complained of having no one to read to him, and CaptainCrawford took the Bible and read him "_deux superbes chapitres_, " he wasquite sure that Miss Crawford had nothing at all to do with it. His present visit to Mary's grandmother was to tell her that ten poundshad been collected the Sunday before for the new church; and that assome handsome contributions had been since received, he hoped she wouldsoon see it finished. Mary ran away as soon as she had let him in, andsoon came back with cheeks as red as fire, eyes cast down, and somethingclasped very tight in her hand, looking altogether much more like athief than the good, honest little Mary that she was. But when CaptainCrawford got up to go away, she went to him, and as he stooped to hearwhat she had to say, she repeated very quick, in a very low voice, thelittle speech she had prepared in her best English: "Please to give datto Miss Crawford, to go for the new church dat's being builded. " HappyMary! how full of love that little heart was! how it rejoiced in givingpleasure! and how she did wish that she was rich, that she might makeeverybody comfortable! "Here is a contribution to the church, my little one, " said Edward, whenhe reached home, "which I think you will agree with me is worth morethan all the five-pound notes we have received. Sixpence from MaryFalla!" "Dear little Mary! Put it into the church-bag, Edward. If our churchcould be all built with such sixpences as those--" And in the church-bag we must leave the Sixpence, resting a little whilebefore it goes forth again on its errands of joy and sorrow, of blessingand cursing. There was a little stone in the church-tower far more precious than allthe rest. It was not a cut stone; it did not sparkle in the bright sunwhich shone on the consecration-day; none of the colours of the ruby, emerald, or amethyst, beamed from it; it was a richer gem than they--thegift of a willing heart. London:--Printed by G. BARCLAY, Castle St. Leicester Sq.